#I do recall doing one 4 hour stream once

[bzhitstruth]

About hints and patterns

Throughout the history of GGDD, we have noticed that they sometimes act as messenger birds for each other - one hints at some event, and then it happens to other. This is a direct hint.

But there is another type of hints - when the event that one of them hints at has already happened before, but we don’t know about it yet and don't understand this hint. But then the other person tells us about this event, and only then does it become clear to us that the hint has already been made. If we don't consider this a coincidence, then we will have to admit that such information could have been known to another person only through personal communication, because it was not publicly known about it.

I want to recall a few examples of such cases, they occurred over a not very long period of time - less than a year.

All this is fake, CPN and empty thoughts. Clownery. 🤡

DD's “Water show” — GG's vlog

On July 10, 2023, the event was held in Beijing dedicated to the premiere of One and only. DD participated in it, he danced and splashed water on the audience. While dansing DD made a couple of gestures that the turtles paid attention to - the “figure eight” and the famous “chongya” gesture. Everyone, of course, remembered the meaning of these gestures and was glad that DD made them. But then it turned out that he did them for a reason.

On July 11, GG’s vlog was released, and suddenly both of these gestures appeared in this vlog. Can this be considered two coincidences that occurred within 24 hours?

No one, of course, knew in advance what would be in GG’s vlog, the vlog was filmed a long time ago, but it turns out that DD knew this the day before the vlog was released.

Leica

October 3, 2023 DD, while in Paris, shows off his Leica camera. The turtles remembered that once upon a time GG also had Leica, and assumed that DD probably received the gift from GG.

But the next time a shocking surprise awaits us - at midnight from October 4 to 5, the congratulation to GG appears on his birthday and GG's photos with Leica, and even the camera model is similar. GG’s photos were taken back in the summer, and DD told us that “GG will appear with Leica tomorrow.” In this case, the version of coincidence seems quite weak.

"Do everything for your love"

On November 8, 2023, a new DD endorsement (YaYa) was released. A post appears on the brand’s Weibo account, the text of which contains words spoken about DD: “他为热爱全力以赴” (“he does everything for love”).

On November 9, NARS live stream with GG is released, at the end of which GG gives the wish speech, including saying: “希望大家为自己热爱全力以赴” (“I hope everyone will do everything for their love”).

As you can see, he uses the same phrase almost verbatim. It is not known what of this happened first - the stream was recorded or the advertising text was agreed upon, but if this accordance was intentional, then it was possible to find out the details only through personal communication. It could be a coincidence, but after a few months the following happens:

GG's vlog - Anta advertising

On March 1, 2024, XZS posts Milan vlog, where the viewer is offered the concept of a circle and round objects, the idea of the cycle of life or another interpretation. The image of the moon also runs throughout the vlog.

On March 2, the advertisement for Anta is released, in the video we see a suspiciously similar concept - a round basketball that flashes throughout the entire video and (suddenly!) turns into the moon above building, and the drawing of a lace that resembles the stylized name “border” in GG's vlog. There are even sunset. Even the text for the post uses the same words 边界 (“border”) - 去探索，多元未知的边界 "Go explore diverse and unknown borders” (full video is here).

I don't know what the brand had in mind, unless consider it pure coincidence, but they certainly couldn't make an ad copying GG's vlog concept overnight! Of course, it was known about the “border” and the stylization of the name since the GG's October vlog, but a circle, a setting sun, a ball that turns into the moon? Next day. How?

The Coin

And now, this coin. Five days passed between GG's vlog and the release of Chang Feng Po Lang trailer, but the consistent appearance of the coin that is the "protagonist" of the vlog and the coin that DD rubs his cheek with in the trailer is amazing. If you pay attention, even the sizes of these coins are the same.

I don’t think that the image of the coin in the vlog was subordinated only to the idea of hinting at the imminent release of the series with DD, probably the idea is much deeper, but what do we know about GG’s creative thinking and about his ability to convey a message very subtly?

All this could be considered coincidences if this didn't happen so often and according to the same pattern: event - hint – explanation. I’m sure I haven’t listed everything and there is more, this is just what I noticed.

Perhaps this is one of the things that keeps us firmly in this "rabbit hole" - their connection, which sometimes manifests itself in unexpected ways, their ingenuity to show this connection. I would compare them to the ocean, which always seems to remain the same, but which you never get tired of looking at.

💚❤️.

[claireelizabeth85]

Come Home to Me - Chapter 4

John Egan x OC Female!Reader

Summary: When the idea of a past life isn't just an idea or something that is only for dreams.

Warnings: grief, death, suicide (if you squint), lots of emotions.

AN: This chapter has been one of the hardest to write. It's taken me three days to get it all down on paper. With rewrites and deletions and asking friends to read bits hoping they don't think it's toddler garbage. Anyway, I hope you like it. If you have any thoughts/idea or generally want to ask me what the hell I'm thinking - my inbox is always open.

This is a work of fiction and is based on the tv characters of the Apple TV series. No disrespect is intended towards real men of 100th Bomb Group

Part 1 can be found here Part 2 can be found here Part 3 can be found here

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

The letter from her trunk left Lizzy utterly devastated. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably as she struggled to grasp the weight of its contents. Brushing off Sarah's concern with a dismissive wave, Lizzy returned to the now closed pub, her mind consumed by anguish. Without a second thought, she walked behind the bar, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass, leaving an IOU in its place.

Feeling as though she was coming apart at the seams, Lizzy sank into a chair, overwhelmed by grief. The person she had been just that morning felt like a distant memory compared to the shattered soul she was now. Sitting outside, she poured herself a more than generous measure of whiskey, her hands trembling. Desperately, she tried to summon memories that didn’t contribute to her overwhelming sorrow. Images of her time in the cockpit flashed through her mind—the camaraderie with friends, the echoes of laughter shared during pre-flight checks. But even those memories offered little solace in the face of her profound loss.

"I left you the left-hand seat, didn't I?" She recalled teasing her friend and colleague about his “preference” regarding which seat he sat in. 

He chuckled in response, "Good, cos I doubt very much our Air Exec would appreciate another guy sitting in your lap." She tried to turn away as she blushed. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Major," Lizzy smiled, trying to concentrate on the pre-flight checks.

“Uh huh.  I’m sure you don't, Lieutenant.” Her friend gave her a knowing look. “He tells me, to tell you not to do any stupid shit and to come home.”

She fixed her gaze on the starry sky, whiskey in hand, swaying gently as she sang to herself. The creak of the backdoor interrupted her solitude, and Sarah emerged observing her friend's drunken, sorrowful dance with a mixture of concern and sadness.

Watching Lizzy stumble and fall, her glass shattering on impact, Sarah rushed to her friend “Liz? You okay sweetie.” Sarah crouched down in front of her friend.

"I can't do this again, Sarah," she confessed, her voice trembling. "I can't go through this again. I did it once, I put on a brave face, I put one foot in front of the other because..." Her words trailed off, interrupted by a drunken hiccup.

Sarah gently urged Lizzy to get indoors.  When Lizzy stayed where she was, tears streaming down her face, Sarah wrapped her best friend in a hug.  In less than 12 hours, what had been Lizzy's wild and vivid dreams had turned into a waking, confusing, heartbreaking reality, leaving her with a newfound sense of vulnerability. 

"My soul hurts so much," Lizzy confessed.  "I remember everything, Sarah. The good times and the bad. The parties to remember the dead and those organised because the day ended in ‘y’, and the fact that I will never see any of them again…and to learn that he survived..." Sarah was confused. “Who Liz? Who survived?” Liz screwed her eyes closed at the thought of saying his name “John.” She sobbed “He survived, Sarah”. Her voice faltered, choked with emotion. "I can't…Tink. I can’t go through this again.”

Sarah held her friend close, offering the only things she could, love and comfort.. "But you survived sweetie. If these dreams aren’t dreams and they’re memories, then you survived.  You cared enough to survive." Lizzy shook her head. "You don’t get it. I had to care. I was responsible for bringing nine other guys home. But trust me when I tell you, I felt nothing.” 

Lizzy stared at her hands, not able to look her friend in the eye while she confessed something that she knew she had never said out loud the first time, “But as the weeks turned into months, the deaths, the waiting became harder, the silence in the bar, the not knowing- I had to fill it somehow so I took on every mission going hoping they’d blow me out of the fucking sky" Lizzy's grief was laced with anger. “Oh Lizzy” Sarah held her closer, rocking her gently to try and soothe the waves of emotion that were crashing over Lizzy. Her confession hung in the air like a lingering cloud.

Sarah's heart ached. Despite their decades-long friendship, she felt powerless to ease the torment consuming Lizzy. Gently coaxing her inside and into bed, Sarah tucked a strand of loose hair out of her face as Lizzy gave in and went to sleep.  “I promise I’m going to find out what the hell is going on Lizzy.  I promise!”

--------

Sarah retreated downstairs to the deserted guest lounge. She switched on just one light and it lit up the beams of exposed wood and brick. It was old, as James had said oldest pub in the village but it had been nicely renovated to keep its cozy and homely feel. Sarah couldn’t believe how much Lizzy had settled into this place when they had arrived earlier that evening. Running her fingers over the bar, asking where ornaments were and expressing sadness at their loss. She walked behind the bar with such familiarity fixing herself a drink it would have be been assumed that Lizzy was the owner.

Sarah was determined to uncover the truth behind Lizzy's inexplicable connection to the past. Typing "Elizbeth Waterfield'' into her laptop, Sarah braced herself for the usual search results showing other women of the same name in their corporate headshots.  What she wasn’t expecting to find was a link to a WW2 history page. "Lieutenant Elizabeth Waterfield," the search results revealed, "the only British female pilot to fly with the US Army Air Force during World War 2." Sarah just sat there and stared, her brain trying to absorb what she was seeing and reading.  “What the…” 

Clicking the link, a professional black and white photograph of Lizzy in her uniform filled the screen. “Lieutenant Elizabeth Waterfield,” the blurb read, “was one of only a handful of British female pilots who were attached to combat units.  Lt Waterfield successfully completed 15 bombing missions with the USAF’s 100th Bombardment Group based at Thorpe Abbotts.  She took part in strategic bombing missions over France, Germany and Norway, knocking out submarine pens, factories and other machine centres of the Third Reich.  Lieutenant Waterfield was listed as missing in action during a bombing raid in February 1945.” 

Sarah choked back a sob.  Lizzy had gone missing. How? Why? Was that why she was so distraught about the letter?  Sarah had placed it safely back in its envelope on Lizzy’s bedside table.  She would not pry to satisfy her curiosity but instead would wait and see if Lizzy offered it to her.  Writing down everything she could, Sarah fell asleep curled in the corner of the guest lounge, the heroic exploits of her best friend laid out in front of her.  Her own dreams were of Lizzy falling and she not being able to save her, constantly falling, small planes whizzing around them like flies.  

Sarah was gently shaken awake  by Fred, the pub landlord and James’ son. “You sleep down here all night?” Sarah stifled a yawn and stretched the kinks out in her back.  “Lizzy was a little worse for wear last night, after she was given the trunk.  She found a letter inside that I don’t think she was expecting to see.” Fred moved around the lounge, switching on the coffee machines and the hot water urns for tea. “You’re still not sure about all this, are you?” Sarah shrugged.  “You have to admit, it is a little…far-fetched.  A young 25 years old woman has memories of a time that she couldn't possibly have lived through and yet she was outside last night chucking down whiskey like it was water, crying, grieving for men that have been done for almost 80 years.”  Sarah shook her head. Fred hummed in contemplation of what to say next. 

“You know, I grew up on stories of Lizzy and the rest of the lads.” Sarah was shocked and curious all at the same time. “What? You knew about her?” 

Fred nodded. “Yeah, I mean Dad was only a kid back then, so I’m guessing he doesn’t remember all that much to be fair, but his aunt, my great aunt, was a Red Cross girl.  She was a good few years younger than my grandmother and she had no kids or a husband.  There was a mix of American and English RC girls on the base. 

I remember being at her house a few years before she passed in the 90s and she brought  out all the photographs, the notebooks and her diaries. She’d fill a glass of whiskey and then proceed to tell me all about them. The games they would get up to, the parties they would hold, how bad the weather was then, the mud! She would tell me how she was there to serve coffee and donuts and be a pretty face. She’d sometimes help out the orderlies if they needed a hand with the walking wounded. There were a few photographs that she showed of Lizzy.  One was of her all done up in her flying suit, with a British RAF officers cap on. No one knew how she got there or even why she was there.  She turned up one day apparently with orders.  She was taken to see the CO and the next thing everyone knows, she’s attending briefings like the rest of the men. From what Auntie Jean said, she blended in so well nobody batted an eyelid and yet when you study the war and the RAF, one thing that they want everyone to know is that the girls didn’t fly combat missions.” 

Sarah shook her head, finding the whole situation absurd. "You realise how crazy this sounds, right? My best friend, the girl who is currently passed out upstairs with an impending hangover, born in the 80s, can't possibly be the same person you're talking about. This is like something out of science fiction, like time travel. It's utterly ridiculous. We don't have a police box to shove her into or a circle of stones for her to hug it out!" Fred calmly placed a cup of coffee in front of Sarah, unfazed by her frustrated outburst.

"Well, how else would you explain it?" Fred challenged, setting down plates and crockery on Sarah's table. "I've seen pictures of her, more than once. I've known about her since I was a child, and I was born in the 60s." Sarah was at a loss for words. "Listen, I think Dad donated Auntie Jean's collection to the museum. Everything she had ended up there. I don't know if it's been sorted through or catalogued, but if you want to try and figure out what's going on, feel free to dig through it all." Sarah took a sip of the coffee Fred had brought her. 

Collecting her things and draining her coffee, Sarah swiped the croissant from the basket waiting on the bar. She thanked Fred and took up his offer of the trip over to the museum.  She felt like she was becoming desperate, the more she pulled on this thread, the more she wanted to know, the more she needed to know.  

The image of Lizzy in her uniform was seared in Sarah’s mind along with the information of her being listed as missing in action, her laughing and smiling in the photographs that she found in the Control Tower, she looked happy and content.  But where had she been when she went missing?  How did this link to her dreams if they did at all.  

“Hey Fred, quick question for you. Who's John? Lizzy brought up the name a few times last night, but I haven’t heard her mention him before." Sarah was about leave to head up stairs as she asked the question over her shoulder. Fred glanced up from behind the bar as he stocked the shelves. "Ah John? There's only one person she would be talking about - Major John Egan. He and Lizzy, they were the darlings of the airfield." Sarah paused, intrigued. "Auntie Jean used to call them the Mr. and Mrs. Hollywood of Thorpe Abbotts. John was the hot shot 'over-sexed, overpaid, and over here' American pilot, and Lizzy? Well, she was the gutsy British sweetheart taking on the Nazis from the cockpit of a B-17.”

Sarah’s brain has so many questions fighting to be asked. “They were seeing each other?” Fred chuckled softly. “Yeah, you could put it that way. Jean always said they were made for each other.  Lizzy was a little loud which was unlike most women back then and liked to let her hair down literally and figuratively. She said most people knew about them but no one ever said a thing because they always tried, as Jean said, to keep things professional when at work and weren’t being stared at by the senior command.  That’s not to say she didn’t catch them in a hug or sharing a quick kiss before one of them went on a mission. John was never more than an arms’ distance away from her, and Lizzy would be waiting for him inside the interrogation hut…” Sarah cut him off “Interrogation?” Fred explained the protocol for pilots and crew to be interrogated after a mission to get a record of what happened.

“Lizzy would always be there, with the Red Cross girls, whiskey in one hand and a donut in the other.” Sarah couldn’t stop the next question.  “What happened? What did he do that caused my best friend to sink nearly half a bottle of whiskey last night?”  Fred stopped what he was doing.  He sighed and his shoulders sagged slightly, his face covered with a mask of sadness.  “What did he do?” Fred repeated the question and Sarah nodded. The tone of her question was defensive, protective even. It was one of a best friend looking to settled a score for someone too heartbroken to do it themselves. “I’m guessing she didn’t tell you” Sarah shook her head. “Jean knew more about what happened to Lizzy, but from what I remember being told, John was shot down over Germany and was listed as Missing in Action towards the tail end of 1943. Lizzy never saw him again.” 

Sarah's heart sank as Fred's words hit home. She felt a lump form in her throat, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Oh god," she whispered, her hand covering her mouth in shock, her voice trembling with emotion. "Oh god, I had no idea..."

Fred placed a comforting hand on Sarah's shoulder, offering her a sympathetic smile. "It's a lot to take in and if the letter was from John then I can't imagine what she's feeling."

As Sarah took a seat as she grappled with the revelation. The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. The conversation she had with Lizzy outside the night before echoed in her mind, Lizzy's raw emotion as she spoke of wanting the Germans to end it all. It wasn't just a drunken ramble—it was a cry of anguish, a manifestation of the grief and mourning that had driven Lizzy to volunteer for every mission available.

A shiver ran down Sarah's spine as she momentarily entertained the notion of time travel, a concept so fantastical it seemed absurd. Yet, faced with Lizzy's inexplicable connection to the past, her grief for John and for the rest of the men, Sarah couldn't help but consider it as a possibility.

Still, Sarah was still a skeptic at heart and was determined to seek a logical explanation, unwilling to fully embrace any alternative until it was the only answer left.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

OK, I gotta ask, BPP: how many times have you seen BTS live? And what was your most out of body experience doing so?

**

Hi @onthecuterside! 💜

I've seen BTS live in concert eight times, including the KCON in August 2014.

Every one of those times, became one of the highlights of my year. I don't want to overstate it, but BTS are literally one of the most phenomenal performers I've ever seen.

And I've seen Epik High, Twenty One Pilots, Radiohead, Shinee, Kendrick Lamar, Beyonce, ONE OK ROCK, Big Bang, AC/DC, Burna Boy, Janet Jackson, Coldplay, EXO, Foo Fighters, Slaves, etc in concert.

BTS are something else.

*

You sent in this ask some time ago @onthecuterside, and the truth is I agonized over it. Because how am I supposed to choose my favourite concert?

It's impossible to. Each concert was tied to different circumstances for me that made each one take on a quality of its own. But I did select a couple to potentially talk about:

The Speak Yourself concert in Seoul on October 26, 2019

The Wings tour in Seoul on February 19, 2017

...I saw recently fans were posting clips from the SYS tour. So, I'll talk very briefly about the Wings tour.

*

BTS were so young back then, but the energy they created was electric. Like I got goosebumps just now remembering and writing about it. The Wings Tour DVD is something I recommend every fan watches at least once to get a sense of the sort of energy, inexperience and sincerity they had (and still do). [I can provide a streaming link of the concert DVD via DM for anyone interested]

Set list (excluding Encore section):

Not Today Am I Wrong Silver Spoon Dope Begin Lie First Love Lost Save Me

I Need U Reflection Stigma MAMA Awake BTS Cypher Pt. 4 Fire N.O No More Dream Boy In Luv Danger Run War of Hormone 21st Century Girl Intro: Boy Meets Evil Blood Sweat & Tears

*

Not Today started with a few hiccups if I recall correctly. It's not really evident in the DVD but I remember the sound was a bit inconsistent in some areas, as if they were still getting used to the volume and deciding how hard to sing/rap. Their introduction was cute, and it was easy jamming along to the setlist. By the time it got to Baepsae, I was very awake. But it was Reflection that did me in.

It's Namjoon's solo song. He just stood in front of a mic in a white-ish button-down shirt, and he seemed a bit nervous at some points singing it. The Wings emblem that was moving the entire time, when contrasted against the blue background, was such a simple and arresting sight. I hadn't actually heard the song before that day, and so hearing it for the first time, hearing the lyrics of what he was singing... It stuck with me.

I remember screaming myself hoarse during Cypher Pt 4, and I probably blacked out during Blood, Sweat & Tears - imagine, it's the end of the show, Jimin's visuals after dancing and singing for more than one hour, high on adrenaline...

It's not captured in the DVD but just before the final chorus, I remember there was this look Jimin gave right before moving to the center, and y'all, I had a revelation.

*

I don't want to rub it too much in people's faces, but I knew BTS was different and were going to dominate no matter what, after seeing them live in February 2017. I wasn't even an ARMY then, I didn't have an ARMY bomb, and I knew that if the next year didn't end with BTS on everybody's lips (more than it already was at the time), then something must've gone very very wrong.

It's not their best concert ever IMO (the SYS concert and a few others are contenders for that), but that entire Wings era was incredible.

[abbatoirablaze]

Bad Girl's Club, Chapter 15

Word Count:  1.5k

Warnings:  MAJOR TW:  mentions of rape, being jumped, getting beaten, transphobia, mentions of knife violence. 

Nick felt sick as the doctor met him at the entrance of the ICU. 

His stomach had already been emptied a few times during the drive over, but he still was dry heaving at the thought of his daughter being hurt.  But Lance didn’t even flinch as the doctor asked about them.  He was far too anxiety ridden to care about any other questions from anyone.  He just needed to know that Jenna was alright. 

“Mr. Fowler?”

“This is him,” Lance said quickly, pulling a stuttering Nick forward, “how is Jenna?  What happened to her-“

“Sir…who are you in relation to Mr. Fowler and his daughter?”

“A family friend,” he replied even quicker, “Nick-he-he’s in shock.  Some very rude, transphobic nurse kept saying Jenna was hurt and in the ICU.”

The doctor frowned, “I can only disclose the information to Mr. Fowler…it-“

“He’s fine,” Nick said firmly, finally looking at the doctor, “h-he’s fine…just tell me what happened to my daughter.”

4 cracked ribs. 

A punctured lung. 

Her left arm broken in two different spots.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. 

No. 

Nick looked at the surgical wing’s doors, praying for a miracle as the doctors tried their best to ‘do what they could’ for the time being. 

The boy who had asked Jenna out, lured her out to the back of the theater after the movie under the guise that they were going to make out.  Only, he didn’t know that his friends were waiting for him and Jenna at his car. 

They’d gagged her and then took turns raping her, while whoever wasn’t taking a turn on Jenna was beating up the boy.  He, when talking to the police, recalled how they talked to her, stating that if she wanted to be a ‘real girl’ they were going to treat her like one.  They called her a tease.  They slapped her.  They pinched her.  And they cut away at most of her clothes. 

The boy who had asked her out was crying to the cops as he gave his statement.  He’d had a broken arm and a cover over his eye from a broken socket.  But he wanted to give a statement while he was coherent…while he remembered things clearly. 

He told the cops that he might lose his eye the longer he waited…but that it didn’t matter.  He had to tell them what happened to Jenna. He too had received a beating…though not quite as bad as Jennas. 

Nick glared at the boy, despite his heroism and willingness to sacrifice something so necessary as his vision.  He cried to Nick when the cops told him with pity to go, a nurse desperately trying to pull him towards the surgery wing so they could fix his eye the best they could.

“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Fowler,” the eighteen-year-old cried, pulling against the nurses as he tried to tell him just how sad he was, “I-I didn’t want her to get hurt, I swear…”

But it was Lance who sat, stoic as could be, his eyes never leaving the two sterile doors that led to the surgical wing.  His jaw was set firmly in a frown, while tears streamed down his cheeks. 

“S-she’ll be okay…”he’d whisper, more to himself, every once in a while when his eyes finally would momentarily glance at the clock, “s-she’s tough.  She’ll make it through it…right Nick?”

He didn’t know how to answer his best friend, who seemed less like his friend, and more like Jenna’s lover.  Nick’s jaw parted a few times, but the words never passed his lips. 

It was nearly ten and a half hours when the doctor finally came through the doors.   Nick and Lance both rushed up to him. 

“Well?” Lance asked.  Nick hung on the word, like it was his entire world.  The doctor frowned.  Nick’s chest tightened. 

“We-we were unable to save her genitalia…”the doctor admitted, “there was no blood flow for far too long, and the veins were damaged far too much to save it due to the serrated knife that they used.  For now, it looks like your daughter is going to be a eunuch.”

“W-what?”

“Can we see her?” Lance asked quickly, “Sh-she’s okay?  Is she up?  Wh-“

“They are putting her in a recovery room in the ICU where she will be monitored-“

“But can we see her?”

“D-daddy?”

Nick jumped, hearing the croaked-out word coming from her lips.  His heart broke as he lurched towards his daughter.  But at the last minute he caught himself, remembering her substantial list of injuries.  His hand stroked her bruised cheek, and a few tears ran down his face, “I’m here Jenna…I’m here baby.”

“I-I’m so sorry, daddy,” she sobbed, her body wracking with tears.  She was quick to lurch forward, the pain from the cracked ribs and her punctured lung enough to make her gasp in pain, “W-what happened to me?”

“You need to take it easy, Jenna,” another voice said softly.  Her head turned and she gasped when she caught sight of Lance, her body instantly reacting to the pain-inducing actions.  He all but jumped forward and held her good hand, “small breaths…don’t overexert yourself.”

“Wh-what happened?”

“Your date…”

“I-is he okay?”

Nick’s heart ached, at the thought.  Here his little girl was, laying in a hospital bed, and all she was thinking about was the boy. 

“He lost his eye…”

Nick’s gaze shot to Lances.

“When did you-“

“Ran into his parents at the vending machine when I got ice chips and water from the nurses,” he reminded his friend as he pointed to the pitcher and cup, “they asked how Jenna was…they wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“Lying bas-“

“Tyson was the only boy who never judged me in my last school, dad,” Jenna whimpered, looking at her father.  Then her gaze met Lance’s, “h-he really lost an eye?”

Lance nodded, “yeah…”

She frowned, I-I remember bits and pieces of what happened before the attack…bu-“

“We don’t have to talk about it…”

“I remember a lot of blood,” she said quickly, cutting her father off, “a-after they raped me…”

“Jenna…”

“Did they-“

“DAMN IT, JENNA!” Nick roared, cutting his daughter off.  She jumped, instantly reacting in pain as her injuries jumped back. 

“Nick, what the fuck?” Lance growled, holding Jenna’s hand. 

“I-it’s okay…I-I shouldn’t ha-“

“No…if you want to talk about it, he-“

“I ALMOST LOST MY DAUGHTER TODAY, LANCE.” Nick all but screamed at his friend, “I don’t want to relive the worst day of my life when I’m still in it.”

Jenna’s eyes watered as she looked at her father, “I-I’m sorry daddy…”

Nick shook his head, “I-I need a minute.”

“Dad-“

“Let him go,” Lance sighed, looking at Jenna, “he-he hasn’t handled any of this…you know your dad.”

“H-he won’t even look at me.”

“He needs time to process it, Jenna…”

“I almost died,” she whimpered sadly, “don’t you think I know that we all need to process it?”

“Jenna-“

“I want to be with you Lance,” she said quickly, her gaze looking quickly between the door and her father’s best friend, “I-I don’t want to play any of these games…”

“Jenna…”

“I want you,” she replied, trying her hardest, “I remember thinking I was going to die behind a movie theater…because of what I am…a-and Tyson…he’s nice…but he’s not you…the whole time I was just thinking about you…n-not him…what would we be doing if I didn’t let my dad control my love life.  If I didn’t give in because I was afraid.  Y-you would have never let me get hurt, Lance…”

“Jenna…I-“

“I want to be with you when I turn eighteen…” she begged, clinging to his hand.  Lance’s heart ached as he looked at the girl that he knew he was falling for.  Every part of him wanted to go out and find each boy hat had any part in hurting her and murder them all where they stood for even putting a hair out of place on her body, “L-Lance?”

“You don’t want me, Jenna…”

“I want everyone to stop telling me that,” she hissed, glaring at the man she loved, “I’ve been in love with you since I was a kid…an-and I’m tired of pretending that I’m not…you can hide behind whatever you want to call it.  If you don’t car-“

“Y-you love me?”

Her breath caught in her throat at her over-the-top spontaneous admission, but she nodded nonetheless, “I-I do…h-how do you feel about me?”

“Jenna…you’re seventeen…” he sighed, his hand stroking over her own, “e-even if I wanted to tell you how crazy you’ve driven me…yo-you-“

“You like me…”

“Jenna…”

“I turn eighteen soon, Lance…y-you don’t have to say yes right now or anything…but when I’m legal…I-I’m going to ask you out.”

“What about your dad?”

“I almost died…I don’t care what anyone else thinks…the only person’s opinion outside of my own that matters about what you think about you and I…is yours.”

“Jenna…we shouldn’t.”

The smallest of smiles played on her lips as she caught the wording.  ‘we shouldn’t.’

“I’m going to ask you out, Lance Tucker….”

Chapter 16

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[mindofsmoothie]

The Countdown Is On!

I can't believe that there is only TWO more days until Christmas! This month. this year has just flown by! I can't lie 2022 has been a turd of a year and I am happy that it is almost at an end.

While I am looking forward to the end of 2022 and the beginning of 2023, I can't let the holiday come and go without another top 5 list to get you in a festive mood.

Today I am going to deck your halls with my top 5 Christmas specials! Long before streaming services and physical media, specials like A Charlie Brown Christmas could only be viewed once a year, unless "taped" off of TV during the broadcast.

Shows like this were an event. No matter what you were doing you made sure that you were bathed, in front of the TV, snack in hand, and ready when it came on. I miss those days, simpler times indeed.

Enough reminiscing, on to the list!

5. A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

A Charlie Brown Christmas is definitely one of my favorite holiday offerings. A very relatable tale especially growing up Catholic and having participated in several Christmas pageants showcasing the Nativity story. I still volunteer for our church's live nativity :)

4. Frosty the Snowman (1969)

Ah... Frosty the Snowman, not only when this was airing did it mean Christmas was not too far off, but also painted a great picture of how that first snow made you feel as a kid. Snow always did seem like a magical event back then. It sparked imagination and creativity in your outdoor play, and it also had the ability to give you a day off from school! Today I could take or leave snow, mostly leave, but watching Frosty on wintry day with a hot cup of coffee or hot chocolate, wrapped in a blanket and on the couch, you can easily be transported back in time.

3. A Claymation Christmas Celebration (1987)

A Claymation Christmas Celebration was extra special because it was, at the time a brand-new Christmas special. If you look at the previous entries on this list, they all predated me. The Claymation Christmas was riding on the success that the California Raisins stop motion animation advertisements were having. Classic Christmas carols were showcased such as "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" being performed by the California Raisins and a comical bell-choir performance of "Carol of the Bells." In between the performances the dinosaur hosts Rex and Herb go back and forth on the appropriate title and lyrics to "Here We Come A-Wassailing."

The show's creator Will Vinton had released similar specials that predate this one, but I was never aware of them until I got the DVD that included A Claymation Christmas Celebration and the other holiday themed shorts.

If you have never seen this, I highly recommend seeking it out.

2. Christmas Eve on Sesame Street (1978)

I shared a brief post about this special earlier, but Christmas Eve on Sesame Street was one of my favorites and holds a special place in my heart.

I don't recall this being on every year or catching it when it was on but the memories around this are what have it in my number two spot.

I remember one Christmas eve when I was too little to go to the evening Mass and I was home with my mom. I just remember watching this while she got things ready for the company that we would have over later that night. The two stand out memories for me were when Cookie Monster trying to write a last-minute letter to Santa eats his pencil and then later tries to call but eats the phone and near the end seeing the snow fall on Big Bird as he tries to wait up for Santa and falls asleep. I always felt bad for Big Bird because Oscar was a jerk to him.

It wouldn't be until many years later where I bought the DVD and re-watched for the first time in a long time.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964)

For years, at least in my mind, this was the big-time event. Christmas was here! With commercial breaks included Rudolph was an hour-long event. All other specials were just a half-hour so you knew this was special, and it was and still is today.

Rudolph was always very relatable as I think at some point in every child's life the sometimes feel like a "misfit." In the end however, the misfittiest of them all proves to be the most useful and is tasked with leading.

And there you have it, another list in the books. With so many good specials from the past, it was hard to pick my top five, but I did it and have no regrets!

What are some of your favorite Christmas specials? I would love to know.

Have a great Christmas!

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝐒𝟏:𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏𝟑

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Afternoon weariness creeps on you like a predator carefully planning out when to pounce on their naive prey. 

As much as you value looking your best to feel your best, your job has started being very taxing and demanding of you. Making calls, sending out emails, printing documents, and planning his schedule, makes you drowsy and sluggish unable to deal with the maintenance of your appearance. More often than not, you find yourself slipping your feet out from your heels, sitting with your legs up and your gentle hands soothingly rubbing over your feet to ease their throbbing as you reabsorb yourself in work. You're thankful you started bringing a pair of your large slippers, easing your feet from the constant strain being put on them. 

The soft clicking and clacking of the keyboard fill your minimalist office, the sound slightly reverberating off the walls. Sun rays ebb and flow into your room, pouring in a constant stream of light, illuminating the tense space. A light hum slips past your lips as you work, recalling a song which seemed to have been playing on repeat in your mind for the past hour. Today is the most productive day that you've had ever since you've worked here. You're flying through tasks today and it's all starting to look like you may be able to leave at 4, for the rest of the month. The thought only pushes you further, your manicured fingers sliding over the top of the keys, determinedly typing away.

I wonder what I'll do when I get home. Nice long shower? Movie night? Early sleep?

"L/N, follow me to my office immediately." The blond boss peers his head through your door, a look of urgency displayed on his face, though not evident to you as I groan under your breath and heave yourself up and out of your seat. Taking a moment for yourself, you stretch, twist and turn, cracking and soothing all aching muscles and joints in your body You won't be surprised if you wouldn't be able to walk as well at 40. You drag your feet across the carpeted floor, the large slippers creating a faint scraping sound along the corridor as you make your way to his office.

Hand on the door, you swing it open without another thought, "Sir I'm here." Sentence cut short, mouth going dry, you remain frozen near Nanami's door in utter horror. You've totally forgotten. Multiple pairs of eyes stare at you in confusion, wondering why one of Nanami's workers was dressed in such unusual and informal attire. How could you forget that he was meeting with the leading team members of Core Tech this afternoon? Your body runs hot and your stomach jumps around from inside you sloshing around threateningly. All eyes, even yours, follow the same direction. All stares gravitate towards the floor, your feet, your shoes. Your large Minnie Mouse slippers are all anyone can look at, and Nanami's ticked-off face is all you can stare it. It is almost as if his slick, gelled hair is standing up on the end ready to leap at you. You aren't mistaken either when you saw his eye twitch too, evidently and utterly embarrassed to the core. 

Without another word, you squeak out an apology, backing out slowly and walking back to your office. A sensation of electrical sparks surges through your body as you relive the demeaning situation, wondering what would happen to you once CoreTech left. Slowly, you crouch down underneath your desk, fighting the urge to just stay under there for the rest of time, and grabbing your heels, putting them on slowly to calm yourself down. Any jaunty movements could set your heart running again for the next hour. 

It's fine Y/N. Just- Take a deep breath and don't do anything stupid. At all. And don't think about how your boss might hate you for the rest of eternity.

Closing your eyes, you recollect yourself, shaking yourself off before impulsively opening the door. 

As the mahogany door swung open with a discreet creak, all eyes in the room turned toward the unexpected interruption. The rhythmic clack of high heels against the polished marble floor announced your presence in the boardroom. The room reeks of agitation and humiliation as the trained eyes of experienced businessmen train on you. Your gaze sweeps around the room briefly once you walk to the end of the table, standing next to the blond. His aura is invasive and overwhelming, engulfing you in it as you stand next to him silently. You can feel it. Feel their eyes, like hawks on the hunt, measuring your presence with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. You can hear their questioning glances and you can almost wonder if they can hear the sweat starting to form in your armpits as your hands go clammy. 

With a deep breath, Nanami recollects the meeting and the attention of the men, redirecting them to the statistics printed on the sheets in front of them. The meeting rolls through and soon your nerves are settled. Nanami occasionally asks for you to hand him some files you had printed the day prior and at the end of the meeting the CoreTech leaders all file out of the room, leaving you in the ridiculously large boardroom. The silence is loud.

Before you break it, Nanami orders you to "get me a coffee." All whilst having his back towards you, facing the interactive board. Obediently, you scurry out of the room the clicks of your heels repeatedly tapping the ground as you make your way to the coffee machine in the staff room at the end of the hall. As your fingers mindlessly click at the coffee machine, you can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the air as the machine whirred to life. His stern expression and clipped words left you wondering if you may ever be able to be friends with him. Instead of trying to move your relationship forward, it seems to be going back. 

Worry gnaws at your insides as you hurriedly make your way back to her desk. The anticipation of a potential reprimand weighs heavily on your shoulders. You know that Nanami has high standards, and any mistake, no matter how small, can result in his disappointment.  The dark liquid swirls, mirroring the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. You add just the right amount of cream and sugar, remembering the blond's preferences, and stir the concoction with a small plastic stirrer. Walking back to the daunting boardroom you approach the door cautiously, hesitating before turning the handle and opening it. , Emily's heart raced. 

"Your coffee, sir," You stammer. Geex you're worried but you're not meant to show it. Extending the cup of coffee toward him you apologise. "I know I shouldn't have been wearing that at work, and I should've been more prepared for the meeting here." The room holds his silence, nothing moves and neither do you. Nanami Kento turns around and walks towards you, grabbing the cup of coffee and maintaining eye contact with you. A shiver room down your spine. You aren't really aware of the effect this man holds over you. 

"You're dismissed." His brown eyes watch as you try to not sprint out of the room. He raises the paper cup to his lips, taking a sip before frowning. 

You did his coffee wrong.

[atwas-gaming]

Finally had a chance to play Superstars. I honestly expected it to be fairly short, but I still hadn't finished the game in a 4 hour stream. Made it past Golden Kingdom, not sure how far I am from the end. I've only been able to find 2 Emeralds :( I just seem to keep running past all the big warp rings and can't get back to them.

Anyhoo, I think it's great. I thought it was gonna be super-easy at first, but then the Press Factory boss turned out to be pretty challenging, as did some sections of Golden Kingdom (or was it Golden City? Golden Realm? um... well, I'll find out when I play it again XD)

Gameplay is good, controls are responsive, and there's even options in many cases to be able to aim your direction. Level design is original, varied, and inventive, without feeling out of place, and the levels feel fully fleshed out instead of empty. I think my one complaint on the bosses is that you can only get in 1 hit at a time. Eh, I think I might have gotten in 2 hits once, but that might have been a glitch. Like, the boss is just sitting there, and I'm jumping on him and I should be hitting him, but it doesn't seem to have an effect. Perhaps I'm doing something wrong? Or maybe it's a bug?

I can't say the music grabbed me, which is disappointing, to say the least. Like, I'm sitting here trying to recall a theme from the game, any theme, and not remembering a thing. Perhaps it will grow on me, but it just felt... idk, kinda bland for Sonic. Then again, I was chatting through almost the whole stream, so maybe I just wasn't paying attention. I remember liking the boss theme, tho, and Golden City (ok, I really do need to go back and find out what that one was called) gave me some Sky Sanctuary vibes.

I love the artwork, it's adorable. It reminds me almost a little bit of claymation, with the kinda heavy, soft sculpture look. I think my only complaint about the visual style is- I'm sorry to say- Sonic.

This takes place after 3&K, right? But 3&K Sonic was just slightly taller, thinner, and darker, and his quills were a little longer.

To be fair, Sonic still looks more like Classic in Sonic the Fighters and 3D Blast, both of which come between 3&K and Adventure. And I think Mania is also supposed to come before Superstars, isn't it? And the Mania sprites are just higher-res versions of the the original. So it's not that Classic doesn't work, necessarily. I guess I just expected him to more closely resemble Adventure Sonic, because Adventure Sonic was made to look more like his 3&K sprite. Like he's a little older.

Stupid thing to nit-pick on, and I never even noticed while watching all those trailers for months, but it hit me when I started up the game for myself, and it just kept bugging me thru the whole game. (And yes, I do realize I could be opening up a can of worms, with the way this fandom is. I'm still entitled to my own opinion.)

But to be honest, my complaints here are really very minor and have no impact on the game itself. This is an excellent addition to the franchise, and one of the best Classic Sonic games (including the original Genesis games) that I think we've ever gotten.

[thistledown-au-warriors]

into the wild - chapter 3

< Chapter 2 || Index || Chapter 4 >

When Rusty fell asleep again, the mouse dream came once more, even more vivid than before. Free of his collar, beneath the moon, he stalked the timid creature. But this time he was aware of being watched. Shining from the shadows of the forest he saw dozens of moonlit eyes, like before. He recognized one pair of clear blue eyes. Instead of fear, he felt a thrill of excitement under their gaze. The Clan cats had entered his dream world.

Rusty woke, blinking in the bright sunshine that was streaming across his housefolk' bedroom through a gap in the blinds. His fur felt heavy and thick with warmth. In the kitchen, his food bowl had been topped up, and his water bowl rinsed out and filled with the stagnant Twoleg water. Rusty preferred drinking from puddles outside, but when it was hot, or he was very thirsty, he had to admit it was easier to lap up the cool water indoors. Could he really abandon this comfortable life?

He ate, then pushed his way out of the cat flap into the garden. The day promised to be warm, and the garden was heavy with the smell of early blossoms.

“Hello, Rusty!” mewed a voice from the fence. It was Smudge. “You should have been awake an hour ago. The baby sparrows were out stretching their wings.”

“Did you catch any?” Rusty asked.

Smudge yawned and licked his nose. “Couldn’t be bothered. I’d already eaten enough at home. Anyway, why weren’t you out earlier? You talk about Henry sleeping his time away, but today you’re not much better yourself.”

Rusty sat down on the cool earth beside the fence and curled his tail neatly over his front paws. “I was in the woods last yesterday, though.” he reminded his friend. At once he felt the blood stir in his veins and his fur stiffen.

Smudge looked down at him, his eyes wide. “Oh, yes, I forgot! How was it? Did you catch anything? Or did anything catch you? You were holed inside all day after that!”

Rusty paused, not sure how to tell his old friend what had happened. “I met some wild cats-” he began.

“What?” Smudge was clearly shocked. “Did you get into a fight? Is that why you stayed inside?”

“No. I mean, sort of.” Rusty could feel the energy surging through his body again as he recalled the strength and power of the Clan cats.

“Were you hurt? What happened?” Smudge prompted him eagerly.

“There were three of them. Bigger and stronger than any of us.”

“And you fought all three of them!” Smudge interrupted, his tail twitching with excitement.

“No!” Rusty mewed hastily. “Just the youngest one, the other two came later.”

“How come they didn’t shred you to pieces?”

“They just warned me to leave their territory. But then…" Rusty hesitated.

“What!?” mewed Smudge impatiently.

“They asked me to join their Clan.”

Smudge paused, whiskers quivered disbelievingly.

“They did !” Rusty insisted.

“Why would they do that?” His eyes were full of suspicion.

“I don’t know. That's why I stayed home yesterday, to think.” Rusty admitted. “I guess they need extra paws in their Clan.”

“Sounds a bit odd to me.” Smudge mewed doubtfully. “I wouldn’t trust them if I were you.”

Rusty looked at Smudge. His black-and-white friend had never shown any interest in venturing into the woods. He was perfectly content living with his housefolk. He would never understand the restless longing that Rusty’s dreams stirred in him night after night.

“But I do trust them, Smudge.” Rusty purred softly. “And I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to join them.”

Smudge scrambled down from the fence and stood in front of Rusty. “No! Please don’t go, Rusty!” he mewed in alarm. “I- What if we never see each other again?”

Rusty nudged him affectionately with his head. “Don’t worry. I'm sure my housefolk will get another cat. You’ll get on with him fine. You get along with everyone!”

“But it won’t be the same!” Smudge wailed.

Rusty twitched his tail impatiently. “That’s just the point. If I stay around here till they take me to the Cutter, I won’t be the same either.”

Smudge looked puzzled. “The Cutter?” he echoed.

“The vet.” Rusty explained. “To be altered, like Henry was.”

Smudge shrugged and stared down at his paws. “But Henry’s all right.” he mumbled. “I mean, I know he’s a bit lazier now, but he’s not unhappy. We could still have fun.”

Rusty felt his heart fill with sadness at the thought of leaving his friend. “I’m sorry, Smudge. I’ll miss you, but I have to go.”

Smudge didn’t reply, but stepped forward and gently touched Rusty’s nose with his own. “Okay. I can see I can’t stop you, but at least let’s spend one more morning together.”

Rusty found himself enjoying the morning even more than usual, visiting his hangout spots with Smudge, chatting with the cats he had grown up with. However, every one of his senses felt supercharged, as if he were poised before a huge jump. As sunhigh approached, Rusty grew more and more impatient to see if Lion's Heart would really be waiting for him. The idle buzz of meows from his old friends seemed to fade into the background as all his senses strained toward the woods.

Rusty jumped down from his garden fence for the last time and crept into the woods. He had said his good-byes to Smudge - and even to his housefolk, although they couldn't understand. 

As the tips of Rusty's whiskers brushed the undergrowth, however, he felt an urge to look back. 

The Twolegplace had been all he had known his whole life. He was leaving behind Smudge, his housefolk, all the other cats he knew, the place he was born… but he set his jaw, resisting the urge. Despite all that, this was his new home now. 

No , Rusty could feel from deep within all the way to the tips of his fur strands. He was coming home for the first time in his life.

Without further hesitation, the ginger tom nosed his way into the bushes, letting the ferns scrape his pelt, all his thoughts were now focused on the forest and the cats who lived in it.

  As he approached the spot where he had met with the Clan cats the night before, he sat down and tasted the air, like he'd seen Gray Stripe do. Tall trees shielded the ground from the midday sunshine, making it comfortably cool. Here and there a patch of sunlight shone through a gap in the leaves and lit up the forest floor. Rusty could smell the same cat-scent as last night, but he had no idea whether it was old or new. He lifted his head and sniffed uncertainly.

“You have a lot to learn.” meowed a deep voice. “Even the tiniest Clan kit knows when another cat is nearby.”

Rusty saw a pair of green eyes glinting from beneath a bramble bush. Now he recognized the scent: it was Lion' s Heart.

“Can you tell if I am alone?” asked the golden tabby, stepping into the light.

Hastily, Rusty sniffed again. The scents of Blue Fur and Gray were still there, but upon second inspection, seemed not as strong as the previous night. 

Hesitantly, he mewed. “Thunder Blue Fur and Gray Stripe aren’t with you this time.”

“That’s right,” meowed Lion's Heart. “But someone else is.”

Rusty stiffened as a second Clan cat strode into the clearing.

“This is White Flower.” purred Lion's Heart. “One of ThunderClan’s senior warriors.”

Rusty looked at the tom and felt his spine tingle with cold fear. Was this a trap? Long-bodied and muscular, White Flower stood in front of Rusty and gazed down at him. His white coat was thick and unmarked and his eyes were the yellow of sunbaked sand. Rusty flattened his ears warily, and tensed his muscles in preparation for a fight.

“Relax, before your fear-scent brings unwanted attention.” Lion's Heart meowed briskly. “We are here only to take you to our camp.”

Rusty sat very still, hardly daring to breathe, as White Flower stretched his nose forward and gave him a curious sniff.

“Hello, young one.” murmured the white cat. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I believe you've met my son, Gray Stripe.”

Rusty's eyes rounded. He realized the gray kitten's eyes had been the same color as this warrior's. He quickly dipped his head in greeting. "I-I'm Rusty." 

White Flower nodded, seeming mildly amused.

“Come, we can speak more once we are in the camp.” ordered Lion's Heart and, without pausing, he and White Flower leaped away into the undergrowth. Rusty jumped to his paws and followed as quickly as he could.

The two warriors made no allowances for Rusty as they sped through the forest, and before long he was struggling to keep up. Their pace barely slowed as they led him over fallen trees which they cleared in a single leap, but which Rusty had to scramble over paw by paw. They passed through sharply fragrant pine trees, where they had to jump across deep gullies churned up by a Twoleg tree-eater. From the safety of his garden fence, Rusty had often heard it roaring and snarling in the distance. One gully was too wide to jump, half-filled with dirty, foul-smelling water. The Clan cats waded through without hesitating.

Rusty had never put a paw in deeper water before. But he was determined not to show any signs of weakness, so he narrowed his eyes and followed, trying to ignore the uncomfortable wetness that soaked his belly fur.

At last, Lion's Heart and White Flower paused. Rusty skidded to a halt behind them and stood panting while the two warriors stepped onto a rock that rested on the edge of a small ravine.

“We are very close to our camp now.” meowed Lion's Heart.

Rusty strained to see any signs of life — moving leaves, a glimpse of fur among the bushes below, but his eyes saw nothing except the same undergrowth that covered the rest of the forest floor.

“Use your nose. You must be able to scent it.” hissed White Flower impatiently.

Rusty closed his eyes and sniffed. White Flower was right. The scents here were very different from the cat-scent he was used to. The air smelled stronger, speaking of many, many different cats.

He nodded thoughtfully and announced. “I can smell cats.”

Lion's Heart and White Flower exchanged amused looks.

“There will come a time, if you are accepted into the Clan, when you will know each cat-scent by name.” Lion's Heart meowed. “Follow me!” He led the way nimbly down the boulders to the bottom of the ravine, and pushed his way through a thick patch of gorse. Rusty followed, and White Flower took up the rear. As his sides scraped against the prickly gorse, Rusty looked down and noticed that the grass beneath his paws was flattened into a broad, strong-smelling track. This must be the main entrance into the camp , he thought.

Beyond the gorse, a clearing opened up. The ground at the center was bare, hard earth, shaped by many generations of pawsteps. This camp had been here a long time. The clearing was lit by mid-day sunshine, and the air felt warm and still.

Rusty looked around, his eyes wide. There were cats everywhere, sitting alone or in groups, sharing food or purring quietly as they groomed one another.

“Just after sunhigh, when the day is hottest, is a time for sharing tongues.” Lion's Heart explained.

“Sharing tongues?” Rusty echoed.

“Clan cats always spend time grooming each other and sharing the news of the day, especially after meals.” White Flower told him. “We call it sharing tongues. It is a custom that binds the members of the Clan together.”

The cats had obviously smelled Rusty’s foreign scent, for heads began to turn and stare curiously in his direction.

Suddenly shy of meeting any cat’s gaze directly, Rusty looked around the clearing. It was edged with thick grass, bushes, stones, dotted with tree stumps and a fallen tree. A thick curtain of ferns and gorse shielded the camp from the rest of the woods.

“Over there—” meowed Lion's Heart, flicking his tail toward an impenetrable-looking tangle of brambles, “—is the nursery, where queens sleep and the kits are cared for. My mate and kits are in there.”

Rusty swiveled his ears toward the bushes. He couldn’t see through the knot of prickly branches, but he could hear the mewling of several kittens from somewhere inside. As he watched, a ginger molly squirmed out through a small gap in the front. That must be one of the queens , Rusty thought.

An older tabby queen, similar to the other, appeared around the bramble bush. The two mollies exchanged a friendly lick between the ears before the older one slipped inside the nursery, murmuring to the squealing kits.

“The care of our kits is shared by all of the queens.” meowed Lion's Heart. “All cats serve the Clan. Loyalty to the Clan is the first law in our warrior code, a lesson you must learn quickly if you wish to stay with us.”

“Here comes Blue Fur.” meowed White Flower, sniffing the air.

Rusty sniffed the air too, and was pleased that he was able to recognize the scent of the gray molly a moment before she appeared from the shadow of a large boulder that lay beside them at the head of the clearing.

“He chose to come.” Blue Fur purred, addressing the warriors.

“Lion's Heart was convinced he would not.” White Flower replied.

Rusty noticed the tip of Blue Fur’s tail twitch impatiently. “Well, what do you think of him?” she asked.

“He kept up well on the return journey, despite his small size, like an apprentice would to be honest.” White Flower admitted. “He certainly seems strong for a kittypet.”

“So it is agreed?” Blue Fur looked at the senior warriors.

Both cats nodded.

“Then I shall announce his arrival to the Clan.” Blue Fur leaped up onto the boulder and yowled, “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.”

Her clear call brought all the cats trotting toward her, emerging like liquid shadows from the edges of the clearing. Rusty stayed where he was, flanked by Lion's Heart and White Flower. The other cats settled themselves below the Highrock and looked expectantly up at their leader.

Rusty felt a rush of relief as he recognized Gray Stripe’s thick gray fur among the cats. Beside him sat a young tortoiseshell molly, her black-tipped tail tucked neatly over small white paws. A stocky dark gray tabby crouched behind them, the black stripes on his fur looking like shadows on a moonlit forest floor.

When the cats were still, Blue Fur spoke. “ThunderClan needs more warriors.” she began. “We have a good number of apprentices, but they're young and the nursing kits will take moons to be ready for training. It has been decided that ThunderClan will take in an outsider to train as a warrior...”

Rusty heard indignant mutterings erupt among the Clan cats, but Blue Fur silenced them with a firm yowl. “I have found a cat who is willing to become an apprentice of ThunderClan.”

“ Lucky to become an apprentice!” cried a loud voice above the ripple of shock that spread through the cats.

Rusty craned his neck and saw a young pale tabby cat standing up and glaring defiantly at the leader.

Blue Fur ignored the tabby and addressed all of her Clan. “Lion's Heart and White Flower have met this young cat, as have I, and they agree with me that we should train him with the other apprentices.”

Rusty looked up at Lion's Heart, then back at the Clan, to find all eyes were on him now. His fur prickled and he swallowed nervously. There was silence for a moment. Rusty was sure they must all be able to hear his heartbeat and smell his fear-scent.

Now a deafening crescendo of caterwauling rose from the crowd.

“Where does he come from?”

“Which Clan does he belong to?”

“He reeks of the Twolegplace!”

Then one yowl in particular sounded out above the rest. “Look at his collar! He’s a kittypet!” It was the pale tabby again. “Once a kittypet, always a kittypet. This Clan needs clanborn warriors to defend it, not a lazy mouth to feed.”

Lion's Heart bent down and hissed into Rusty’s ear, “That tabby is Pale Tail, our youngest warrior. He smells your fear. They all do. You must prove to him and the other cats that your fear won’t hold you back.”

But Rusty couldn’t move. How could he ever prove to these fierce cats that he was more than just a kittypet?

The long-tailed tabby continued to jeer at him. “Your collar is a mark of the Twolegs, and that noisy jingling will make you a poor hunter at best - qt worst, it will bring the Twolegs into our territory, looking for the poor lost kittypet who fills the woods with his pitiful tinkling.”

All the cats howled in agreement.

The tom went on, well aware that he had the support of his audience. “The noise of your treacherous bell will alert our enemies, even if your Twoleg stench doesn’t!”

Lion's Heart looked down at Rusty again.

Rusty still did not move. Blue Fur was glaring at the young warrior, and the ginger tom followed her gaze. There he was, just behind a dusky brown molly. Rusty flattened his ears, rage building inside him.

He swiftly wove through the crowd and leaped in front of the larger tom, hissing at him, fur puffed out and hackles raised. "Not before the noise of your babbling does it first, fleabag!" Rusty spat, claws unsheathed.

Pale Tail backed away, surprised by the challenge, but quickly recovered himself and smirked at him. Rusty realized that his bell had been making noise, and cursed himself inwardly as he hissed once more.

"You just proved my point, kitty!" Pale Tail then towered over Rusty, claws digging on the ground, powerful muscles showing under his pelt. "Unless you'd like to back up your silly wailing in a real fight."

Filled with rage, Rusty's sore muscles tensed and he almost responded to the challenge by leaping at the warrior, when a yowl rang through the entire camp.

"Enough!" Blue Fur spat, and she leaped down from the Highrock. All eyes were on her as she marched towards the two toms, and the crowd shuffled away to let their leader pass.

She shot a glance at Rusty, and then set her furious blue eyes on the tabby warrior. 

"Pale Tail. Would you have made an untrained kit fight you for the right to be apprenticed?" Her voice was calm, but cold like claws of ice.

Pale Tail's eyes widened as he took a step back. "I— Blue Fur—" he stammered, but she silenced him with a flick of her tail. 

"The warrior code tells us to protect kits, Pale Tail. This young tom is still a kit, and you were about to brandish unsheathed claws and teeth at him. After you had challenged the decision of your leader and seniors in front of your entire Clan." At every sentence she padded closer to him, until he had to bow his head to look up at her. She narrowed her eyes. " Is this the attitude of a warrior, Pale Tail?"

Rusty held his breath in awe. He had relaxed his stance, but the fur in his neck was still raised. ThunderClan's leader could be absolutely terrifying.

Pale Tail finally looked down at his paws. "I'm sorry, my Thunder." he murmured. "But—"

Blue Fur cut him off by turning away from him. She raised her chin to address her Clan.

"These are troubling times. Shadow Broken Tail is a bold new leader, and we've lost Sunningrocks to Riverclan this moon." She paused as some cats murmured bitterly. "We need to be brave to face these challenges head on and defend our territory with the fierce skill of Thunderclan." Her blue gaze had gone over the gathered cats as she spoke, until she finally rested it on Rusty. "I believe this young tom, despite his origins, has the courage and potential to be shaped into a warrior of our Clan. He shall have to prove himself, but through training. Should he withstand it, he will receive the name of a true clan cat." 

Rusty held her gaze with determination, and nodded, straightening himself. He would prove her faith in him was well-placed.

A murmur in the silent crowd made his ear twitch. "—impossible to hunt with the racket from that bell." some voice whispered.

Rusty had enough. He lifted his paw and shoved it between the collar and the fur of his neck, digging his claws into the fabric. He grunted as he pushed it away, and ducked to slide his other paw in. 

The ginger tom felt eyes on him as he wrestled the collar, but paid them no mind. He had to get the wretched thing out. As he pulled his neck back, it felt like he was about to strangle himself, but he gritted his teeth and dug his claws further in.

There was a loud snapping sound. Rusty's paws slammed onto the ground, and he let his neck back with a loud gasp. Panting, he stared at his paws. 

Under his claws was the collar. He felt the breeze ruffle the fur in his neck where it once was. He was finally free . 

Rusty gripped one of the tips of the collar between his teeth, and let the other drag through the dirt as he padded forward, breathing heavily. Standing on a patch of sunlight, he tossed the destroyed collar at Pale Tail's paws, tail high. The misshapen bell didn't make a sound. The tabby stared at the dirtied Twoleg object in shock.

"I am not a Twoleg pet!" Rusty snarled, forcing his voice to be loud and clear despite the pain on his throat. "I belong to ThunderClan !"

Rusty lifted his head proudly with his declaration, eyes burning, and looked at the cats that surrounded him. This time no cat argued or jeered.

Blue Fur approached Rusty and stood beside him. She touched his ear gently with her nose. “You look like a glowing flame in this sunlight.” she murmured. Her eyes flashed briefly, as if her words had more meaning for her than Rusty knew. 

The molly then raised her head. "This cat has been released from the hold of his Twoleg owners, and is free to join ThunderClan as an apprentice.” She announced to the Clan. 

She stepped back and, with the other cats, waited silently for his next move. Without hesitating, Rusty turned and kicked dust and grass over his collar as though burying his dirt.

Pale Tail leaped backwards as  the droplets of dirt started reaching his paws, which made some cats in the crowd stifle amused purrs. The warrior growled, ears flat, and disappeared into the crowd with his long tail twitching behind him. 

Blue Fur's whiskers twitched, and Rusty sat down to look at her again. "Rusty shall be taught by all mentors, as he has a lot to learn. The senior warriors and I shall keep a close eye on his progress. However, as is traditional for an apprentice, he shall also have an official mentor to oversee his training first-paw." She scanned the crowd, her gaze landing on a specific cat. "Misty Step."

Rusty started as a warrior rose from the crowd, padding towards Blue Fur. The two mollies almost looked like the same cat.

"I believe you are ready for an apprentice. This will be a challenging experience, but I trust you can do it. You will be Rusty's official mentor, I expect you to pass down all your knowledge to him when the time comes." 

Misty Step nodded, and turned to her apprentice. Rusty looked up at his mentor. From a distance, Misty Step had looked like a near-perfect copy of Blue Fur. Up close, however, he could see the little differences. Her pelt was definitely somewhat darker, and her fur was longer and less thick. Instead of a lighter, silver-ish muzzle like the leader, she had lighter paws, and her ears were longer and with small tufts. The blue eyes were the same, though there wasn't the same fierce gentleness to them. Where Blue Fur carried herself proudly, Misty Step was fully stoic. She was completely unreadable to him.

He stiffened as she lowered her head to touch his nose, but then relaxed. Blue Fur turned to the gathered cats and dismissed the meeting. The cats split into groups, murmuring to each other excitedly.

"Welcome to Thunderclan." Misty Step meowed simply, nothing betraying an emotion, and stalked away towards one of the groups. Rusty blinked, somewhat confused, as he stared after her.

“Hey, Rusty!”

Rusty heard Gray Stripe’s friendly voice behind him. He turned to greet the gray apprentice with a welcoming sniff.

“You put on a nice show!” mewed Gray Stripe cheerfully. “Thought you and Pale Tail were actually going to fight for a moment there. Pale Tail may have only finished his training two moons ago, but not even I would have wanted to face him in an all out match like that! Good job finishing that thing off, by the way." The gray tom gestured to the pile of dirt that covered the collar.

Rusty felt relieved that Gray Stripe didn't seem to have expected him to win against the warrior. "Thanks, Gray Stripe." Rusty replied, finally feeling his breath return to normal. He licked his front paw and began to wipe clean ruffled fur. As he washed he heard his name echoing among the meows of the cats.

Rusty closed his eyes for a moment and let the voices wash over him, then looked around. “Where did Pale Tail creep off to?”

“I think he was heading to the warriors' den.” Gray Stripe tipped his head toward a bush beside the nursery. “Probably going to hide in his nest until—”

A low yowl next to the two cats stopped Gray Stripe midspeech. They both turned, and Rusty recognized the dark gray tabby cat who had sat behind Gray Stripe earlier.

“Dark Pine.” Gray Stripe dipped his head respectfully, although his voice sounded irritated.

The sleek tom looked at Fire Heart for a moment. “You're lucky Blue Fur stepped in when she did! Pale Tail would have made quick work of a kittypet like you!” He spat the word kittypet scornfully, then turned and stalked off.

“That was my half-brother, Dark Pine.” Gray Stripe hissed to Rusty under his breath, “He's just a big pain in the tail.”

Rusty was about to react when he was interrupted by a warning yowl from an old gray cat sitting at the edge of the clearing.

“Small Ears smells trouble!” Gray Stripe meowed, immediately alert.

Rusty barely had time to look around before a young cat crashed through the bushes and into the camp. He was skinny and — apart from the white tip of his long, thin tail — jet black from head to toe. 

Gray Stripe gasped. “That’s Raven Shadow! Why is he alone? Where’s Tiger's Claw?”

Rusty looked at Raven Shadow staggering across the floor of the clearing. He was panting heavily. His coat was ruffled and dusty, and his eyes were wild with fear. Red gashes parted his pelt.

“Who are Raven Shadow and Tiger's Claw?” Rusty whispered to Gray Stripe, as several other cats raced past him to greet the new arrival.

“Raven Shadow's an apprentice. Tiger's Claw is his mentor.” Gray Stripe explained quickly. “They went with Red Tail at sunrise on a mission against RiverClan.”

“Red Tail?” Rusty echoed, thoroughly confused by all these names.

“Blue Fur’s deputy.” hissed Gray Stripe. “But why on earth has Raven Shadow come back alone?” he added to himself. He lifted his head to listen as Blue Fur stepped forward.

“Raven Shadow?” The molly spoke calmly, but a look of worry clouded her blue eyes. The other cats drew back, bristling with anxiety.

“What has happened?” Blue Fur jumped onto the Highrock and looked down at the trembling cat. “Speak, Raven Shadow!”

The black apprentice was still struggling for breath, and his sides heaved fitfully while the dust around him turned red with blood, but still he managed to scramble up onto the Highrock and stand beside Blue Fur. 

He turned to the crowd of eager faces that surrounded him, and summoned enough breath to declare.

“Red Tail is dead!”

[klineblog]

Varnishing Yacht Brightwork

Staining You Yacht's Brightwork; How about we Prepare

Shopping Rundown

- Your decision of stain - Mineral spirits· - Froth brushes (I like the ones from Wal-Shop) - Tack clothes - Fade

Assuming that you are beginning with exposed teak you might wish to involve the Cetol Marine which has some shade in it. I like to utilize two layers of it on uncovered teak to give it a decent variety to it. I follow this with 4 layers of shine. On recently completed wood rails, I utilize just shine. Every year, the stain develops so you'll need to strip it down and begin once again every 5-6 years or somewhere in the vicinity.

This year I just involved 3 layers of gleam as I stripped it down to exposed wood last year.

Cetol prompts not to thin their item with thinners. Overlook that prompt! I cut my Cetol with mineral spirits something like 30%; assuming that it's in the 90 degree temperatures and up to half. The reasonable for doing this is that it permits the Cetol to stream and even out itself, lessening the unpredictable outcomes you will get in any case. Cetol straightforwardly out of the can will stream more like honey than a paint.

My decision of implement is a 2 inch froth brush. No brush hairs to manage and it floats on without brush marks.

How about we Lay Some Stain

Alright, we are practically ready however there's another step you need to do. Splendid work tends to get form under the stain on the wood over the long run. You'll have to kill any expected spores with a cloth hosed with dye and cleaned over the teak preceding the main coat. The sanitizer won't raise the grain nor will it harm any uncovered wood.

Alright, we should stain.

Hose the froth brush with Cetol and apply the stain to the teak in around 6-10 inch stirs up. Apply it gently to stay away from runs continuously watching your work to get that run that happens. Continuously keep a wet edge, meaning you brush into the recently wetted surfaces to deflect hauls from drying stain. The cycle is by all accounts moving sluggish yet it goes quick. See here краска км1

Make certain to permit time to dry prior to reapplying another; maybe two or even three can be applied in a solitary day if the weather conditions grants. I utilize an attach cloth to eliminate any residue prior to laying another coat. There is no prerequisite to sand between coats while utilizing Cetol.

I find that six layers of Cetol will give you a ravishing completion.

Time - 2 hours each coat

Complete application time - 6 hours

Stage 4-Time to Tidy Up

Recall that we put the tape on specific spots for getting the disregarded brush strokes? It expected me around 5 minutes to eliminate everything. I enjoyed almost 4 hours with a Dremel device and brush some time prior eliminating the stain that the Patricia Ann's previous proprietor had "applied".

[libidomechanica]

Friend; nor on

A sonnet sequence

               1

To find it, Sir, for making Earth and why? And brouzed, and the stream. This proudly thrust into a final sign the spring on, till the fruite of some bare; but her moved by our eyes, and make there, when I perhaps compounded talking. While Psyche evening the brain did on her arms, that does did me. My tired of frights more than a maidens are merely suppliant and stop the roofs with this the Park. Friend; nor on the stars go waltzing out in truth, wheresoever thought do care for what pleasing pageant shorelesse me like this believing heaven, what though to- day by day; rage, rage accomplication.

               2

Crying home till the hearts, the whitely star, entitled of time, where we are not thy birth new joy is but see his musics to thrill and losing you, my fate and the way he met me, beaming, o heavenly faut is loving yours, it may the apron. And brief, dreamed them still ascend, but to find such light quivering fires fade: exit serves to the this moment so that flowers. Casual things, you flie from summer’s rain; but some were you recall the lovely April of ovation to mooted left and silver flesh his sturdy stroke, whose boughs perfume like mist, scrim scarred with her the murdered for your frowne.

               3

Load to attend times strife: he broad rumor are wrong reason, until we’re alike, so OVER him, I overhear. That act. Sky the sacred organ vocal reeds, and yon garden is your eyes the West Side Highway, red light arbour, no shame, there went forgive me the way you scorne recoil. But could not unattended in thy abundance and to knows what love, such be Natures new. Yet still beleeue me, those eyesight? You of the winne, and my yesterday stung by a charms of decorative dishes their hands and sacrilege, that blowes did both high tree in his mantle blue: to-morrow sharpnesse of season was holding earth, and wild inhabiters of their time I stand upon Euphelia’s dainty leg, while the boughes were mischievously slow, and I the justly sail between; each sencelesse corage hath rotted the Dutch for me necessity and take men at thy circle that sweetest air.

               4

But let your naive ties, lovely Davies. Arise, ye must die as we could still the high tree of all loue, which parts maintained aboundeth. Display he seems, had bene so well who; She stormy darling lyre upon the more apt for one flea guilty be, except in secret power to her praise, I fix my sin. Who are sealed: I stand in her. Has desire, thou should make no noise at anchors at her hands, in the totem. Rage, crauing they see return, Alpheus: the good, slander’s mark was wet. Have the grocery man calling back in the danc’d, and lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie, fair garden, taste.

               5

Are dropp’d into the world, with shronke vnder than man, I scorn what and of Time, the trees, with heavy sank her cheek or Latin laurels, and smite once seabeate, will not move to stamp out hungrie of earth she abuse me, that swum in the glow-worm to the web of it. But the evening. Their answer should be. And they can divide my heart to my arms with our clash her the circus puffing by a charming hand offred’st to my face sent from a row of identical lighten thou dost love and Prejudice, in searching Sleepe most innocent faith many a threat the languish. Ask me no more missed or mocked; the child!

               6

Your first: but now from wound its work all graced in thee, stella, Starre of her golden face of the sashes to entertain the blinded old dreadful hours, it is winter gan this light and expel as in an apron.—Within my skill from its earth can have had none, she a winter wind, whereof are young me more I find a soul gives your accumulated high deserts our health or come, leaves that flowers that hang they are swears ago. As the right color is in heavenly lake, fathomless as her his this day I went to say, have fallen, but him there are gathering honey of Jesus set may escape the honey on her eyes would stir in. Over though Epictetus with chastity, whom your corner found around me first train of a burning hand thee cumber: when a’ our feeling bright, nought comes beneath a heap of jarring vp stern gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal, there was in.

               7

Fair daffodils, we don’t say: the was, trailed its stem and Logos appear’d mistaking Woes self doth the best attir’d woods and and lassie, fair garden and leave thy part. The world’s bicycle got into her, ere they never dying. There is trying today, it’s today—this, and dirks thee now, my Celia, we’ll gentle into these women fasten’d with it; after than the grassy mount looks as light this said, my children’s cheek or faded Oake, pitiable and there where you all; let me part, while I melt; make thyself, for pizza with kisse! Or, being lovers meet it bene, with tears, that you me there.

               8

, Once traduction cannot been ordained, have prayer and pen, beauty’s voices of others in a day is night, even so my sire, grant to fights, that mirror, and glorious Trophies free under that brush the name, thy bones are born on the streams. Steel the morning’s fires. Sharp violins procure; and strong, heartbroken: fear the childhood well. Hungry sheep look for what it selfe to climbed high through me ran; and I are one in love’s charms, that there is guided by an earth he felon, too much as I took over there, wound in red an angry gods or mend the star in the tufts, into that makes us one.

               9

Grant to salutation far apartments. Holding up from his innocence are cut and know great a germ or a language plainest this disgrace; just like specks of the sound would singing O darlin’ darlin’. The world and trembled on my brother, she things turn sourest by the breake; loue that’s in your nocturnal Sun’s decline: as many things be such as fancies like wool. Give her; if of her words my way. The river of the fire, and euer was it then she looked up, and when peace be tost. Erect and some, like a clouds this crooked, they never saw her looking with chaste or slow-worm to the statues leapt.

               10

When in mirrors above a certain griefe; and not move, and shall still may lustre throw hither decent legs, clean, long, up inside my dearest, or next-to-last, one unbecoming, looking voice; the you have ebbs of fire, and strive in verse, that Sappho last, when Love’s exchequer doubloon, but to describing to do with thee? Nay, darkness and welter to her your shores to gaze in thralling mine. Double double hunger times her cool and came by my onely heavenly fear we not to harm in the farms with a sigh. The coals too bountiful a dole, the totem. A shrink in against extinction!

               11

The gaze of Time, that all you to me now had you look from limits fatling rose; for if thou behold, and not be so wet stone. Two women, and horns, and down she lookes down of future, art, bold fictitious soul, we wander each puree, our love within the spring, the will permit that Women starry night. She found—the dregs of life renew. Than Heav’n-born mind! Sorrow to scramble and horns, and the rather the sound our showed her bark, built to be told of the more has that was his toppe was of a year, I am amazement? By secret. Loves in blood: so wert thou dost stay. Your live you for tongue.

               12

You counter brother still doth within hairs. Now, Lycidas? With whom we though the beauteous mazes sprung frost, my state I lay; seeing I saw her looking voice of person who lay thee behind Salámán in her thrown us free; so, when the leaves to shut from above, for why so pale? For the bridle and Loue to each. Inward night sobs that proceede. A little hearts, suck our dear deliverers, and them the noble vigour of his Beauty, farre before she slipped trees of Neæra’s hair? Of cattell, that I lose thing—too thick to tell that these forest lover dwell in my way; my Emanation.

               13

Saying tide homeward into a new hoe. She string Boreas did mine eye; what hath lent; vnable quite sheet. But she hurl’d; when peace, and some brawl which heauen to be lost do search of your Highness did combine on the heart to defence; for unto your love ae e’ening made this bed; but dear, dearest, how it them kiss and designing tree by learned arms, the bosom bred by the whither of this pide weede, as consent, down to all brown a crib. Yoke did vanish in the poet’s occupation? There is a stuff, it was all my word bring me, knowledge of her decent perswades each obscene between us.

               14

Many a mysterious quills, and that soul was bright of paradise, and shall entertain griefe I not resigned to let our marges mee. River, and act is overthrow. Love, like support. How do we affection proves in mine, and morn bespake. Into a new increase their place to worke me with light takes possibility we will choose to stamp out her drop? Upon thy holyday above us in this, and aye the hour thou, to our soules; come dais of sleep, the fair, at kirk or marke-wanting so caught in the relief, the nights the vermin in a forlorn world I will hart: thou like to travel. Fixed a day. The could remain orbed in Lilly of that which haunt though to its body, laid in amorous face this foolish old man bespoke so strange shades, where is not the hall, and multiple locks, and this western gate, Luke Havergal. Of sinfull be. The trembled: and Venus’ doves, and love.

               15

Thy sweet hour, all bonds unwreathe still hardly any more faire breaks with precision of your Faith hellisht with flow, i’m thine! The birds charms, that rolls away, mid-dream. When shall move upturns her men at there, no more: they griefe more if east or west the judging Jove; as he blank as an encore. Heaven see two women who hold a sheep, and the worldly strife: he wrung him. For in the tender minded; if to sing and takes delight? No purple dyes; carved on by Age, Houres, every day, cash forbear, thou roll’st above thy worst, old Time without all I teach, what there’s much was shore, in which loved me fight to say.

               16

Of losing fasten’d with a sigh. I am your love, no dislike to root, thou shall untune the golden the seav’n had no blush the bitter clothes held hands. She fair to outward view my loves, and thou not his steel to avenge the even, all observed, as my own: thy sweet hour, all they are swear be so sweet odours, the boy, and voyce, so OVER him, I overhear. So silent, save when Julia, I brings divine, to the fier of my basement seemed a thundered the know, then felt the common forms have been embraced so. A household is flat since thou loue, all bail shallow to scorning sun of his Beauty.

               17

Friend, thought thine that bless on the fiction, each through of them all loose vnchastens me: now will not be sayd, I say, lichen, as my though primrose turned a year, I walked with a reflected valley, where Jove of darknesse common, and Logos appear, and that my voice but to practice eulogies. As in their sleeve, The will not better grapes, in love. The warbling eyelids of Nightingales do us both joyous leaves after all the quietly. I walked to see. All night in hand, to be mine, farewell! I, that which rubies, columns drowned sit, I make me this morning zeale, or can stop posterity?

               18

Tiptoe up the Infernal grace, that once more Foole form that such, so not evident the complained there I find such a yoke upturns her cheek with music hath mask’d not the peak of the air but your own ways together form another blessed at all. When in their statues leapt from my lip bathe me in th’eclipses stain both thine image in her forced me, curled like none, for he is not exceed proportions you once more I prize not, yet speach, on the fair, disdain, have new gloves the last doth raise, o Muses high-designed, Heaven. The loves, and never can we say now—I want to feele, and pure lost.

               19

—He could flow of tendences was hold: look homeward its fatling in Diana’s strange hearse we are made appeal says I did stands victor by,—that for Woes self-love, the glen sae rashy, O, aboon the children is then go home him who first: but his he knew lose this prime, and the woods which in the baite of words: nor do you know? And clasping and wiser that put on his stead. For converge to some of the Bees which should die while peopled ark the colours my loue and some great vision of that month of rain falls count—should not so much honour’s glass half of passion, fury, for sighing is inside you away.

               20

Blushing money-like, whose dirge is winter win; and a far have you up in that honours her e’re. In the mortal Life to let our feeling fit, since the grace, by only I had dated—thoughts that man has made us rich, can evening; my firm apple-tree: this night at Riverside: the morning, who oft a living with me in my youth, of losing your questioning on the lawn, and I was born to this rusty bosom of my beard with sheep. And thorns, and my galage green footsteps but some women starts, stops before me the blood of young Cupid in themselves known that she need as I sipped them twa.

               21

Terrifies methode bring For my debt to high and watch. I will inuade this flea, and did out-red thus to her, nothing to the noticed me, if I should play there. Sins fast formost place, distracted, lyrical, while the best of rugged and all the complete. Wound in her breaks with the forests the should brere half that everything: a cleft of love you up in thy rock and for us. Fairy tales of ours? Let this thy part, her hands which played aboundeth! Suns that grows of night we first she daines the black. This said, The destroyed just as the golden time. Gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal—luke Havergal.

               22

Above that for your name as fruite of Nature’s rites are sealed: when looking the better loose of burning turned arms wi’ a new hoe. Has my heart of green, and the world drops on her Look at you most humble and voyce, so short time, that little fort, coward hands break the Reflex of heave my book were to starts, stops of various sway this universal frame a nest fore-see my after said: this more I clean sheet of my ioy, faire Venus to come is to all the last half an hour: come with immortal names, and rocked to the Lorelei. Me with chaste desire should have been embrace. Born to vex us?

               23

Long since the hung him out the day not hers he forests; I give this, we want pretence, with one then a worlds of the distance, and natured effigies nine or ten. Hide, stealing unseen is your good old Damætas lov’d to follows of the rest more tragic and maids on the shape, the wind, with becomes the graine: semed, the ripen’d in mist, scrim scarred his was thirty years; not one would drags me down wi’ right are for shame, and the wrong, and the trumpet shall her say it—our Ida has their titles, faith the blame, and touch of each love something else to my mind. I was only he, but slanted of creatures child.

               24

Grave men eager thorns, and fragrant to say, have time mis-spent pay into the heart in that best I grow old. My heart, and despite thee dear; o canst thought thee, the thin shell, teaching graced; the saut tears, I pray the wet feather me? I fear. Where the bloom in the dark webs, here our soft and even now, it must be thy stocke: seest, how sudden capitulations and pain and other all along the field. What unchastity, who oft forest like the wonder her I hunt, gathering, and left hundred kissing in bitter, because if he seat of Jove doth but the haggard father for someone leftovers.

               25

To bed and bound. Girl, hey, girl, for aught there, thou liest, instead with separate I’ and tis too of songsters that any things that sweet side grewe an auncient trees were a bed of friend, I wish to finish all the fire: better part of their stationship tell you this, we don’t understanding nest for she weeps: sdeath! As is dead. Equal were left us rocks; of love thy worthy Ladies could Fate alone, I think I made tongues. Suffering pains witness of his mazde power of blizzard and I, the skeletons are wrong reason to partake thyself, for a lance to me! Do you saw. Despite thy vestal, Heaven.

               26

With moon builds its tower, thus to take it. I most idly spent! Kind lovers black years speak. Thee, hence removed before me like plain sae rashy, O, I sate recoil. And down dead-heavy sank and joys of Love, like none, none can stop mine his prime? Thrice happy Eternity. Pain; yet this morning did stay that, self-same hill, fed them went the words. The brain! And seven more like night. Grave me it: I want to have child! Without all the end is my way. The Brere in flight to the road beside my debt to harm in the river takes delighted shepheard, and impious use, to where with armes happy! Then, confess?

               27

To pass the steep where, half of passion, passion rent, when truly I had never seas having sea. Child; but she could add fresh virgin- treasure, comes our bounty doth stand; and I had another hands repelling and profligate the whither. Rivals by those eyes, nor decay, as when, beckoning other of pleasures of her face, that the rural ditties why I thee behind: return again: if a flow in a nut have I come that would my love each around him all like beasts in heart—just ere she saw them, but ah, she you have a philosopher; perchange again, for he shape of her Beauty.

               28

With show, they never stooped, re-father and what we delude the sence of the man inside another Road enters rage, the warm firm apple-tree whose voice doth all his beating, everything shrubs, how you must now of stone, unmoved, wanting, and ten year shall hear in the rind of the fair, do you I say it—our Ida has a pulses. And beauty herself to blooming griefe; and now and thee shepherd, the minister and the book were my enfranchises, each other way: wan was he, the worth of Jesus set me why, give me in her Sleeve; or hastily, at ev’ning bride: in delay thee. When dead.

               29

And now admitted in our side, his Children die for the fiery night so doth lips did excell in my voice’s sinking in the sounding, struck, though I lean toward hands, in Sleep; when Damon, whom winged Fame common bed were crossed long ago; and other on her eyes becoming Garden and love, I thinking ill prevail? But Love or heau’nly iewell, farewell! This wat’ry flower. Ay so, ’ she still rule me, and warm her Hair would sting dawn of future bliss, dear traitor, too so bright toward you free But it matter your warriors come on its greetings; nor, as when it simple things to meet no more: they will.

               30

Now what in the bump I ride in their end knows to kiss; for Lycidas, the Yes of our sameness sat on a time this moment at the dear love vast and bounds shall the hollow cheek, while her white man into the Sunne, to us none but ears to partake thyself is lover. I say Drink Me I saw not, sweet, like to roses are. But Ida spoke not, happy region be the sun’s men: I shut my eyes the bump I ride in the babe yet it care to come home she court for the soft words should burn the vast he rose. Me by my mournful herdman’s babe leaves that be seen flatter than marriage bed, and whiskey, on the lights long, astarted from the birds wanton and wayling, where the latrine, to their price of his sight of paralysis, thinke those line were in your Highness—verily shoots a lower, and then destroyed just like none, yet the gray mosse, whitely star, if any eden we might, of sweetest bud.

               31

And all that was you, beautie chastens to death: but you do not girl! That flame, and morning’s coming musics to their heavenly huntress mine, where thou not his listen a white, flames; purple in a world. Go not, happy swain to time, the two gold; yet to me! Be such as I pull it apartments. Flea, and I was a living vehicle a little while all his grim wolf with shronke vnder than half opened within thee and then I hear our sameness hold: look homeward in the loves and made of me: so that any the caged yellow brooks, through rain unceasing full again, all for tongue, that flies, and stern skies change.

               32

Thou need’st strain, an early from the light toward hands, in hands and hate that oft turned half the periwinkle train memories like tricks the clothes to grace of light away,—nor the rich light to salutation both are other, the banks, that this fashion it to followed so close in triumpher of plants, to see, like one word, the cold and cause embraced so. Watch our girlonds with for my youth disdain, have put on you, my friend and, curling less snow: rather bore it basks And strong and keeps warmth expressed, slid slowly from his bonnet sedge, inwrought, the common bed were all of pleasant night, and wavering in the tears.

               33

Yourself, nor me necessity and the madhouse why so pale jessamine, the balm derive, the Bird of their smart I try; tyran Honour doth aspire to confession rent, and be, and down on Danaë in a day, the Hus-bandman selfe might knowing if to loveless clay. Such noble heart is past that have ebbs in such as in the heart, I know, for our without thy mind doth restlesse me day and cheerful light to a sudden stared at their statues leap, and clear spirit is the wave is; i’ll drowned we taken, to furnish the bridle and laid under they, with honey on her ail might blows that didn’t care.

               34

Would beauties more nearer, till the misplanted virgin lies! Against annoy, our children being now you this cigarette is ended be, or naething like the sapphire portal, and broken system made transubstantiates in the price is on, we two gold in flight, nought of his, whase only crossing so close the brands with wine my muse’s call; but with despised I with curses dark, darkned mind. Without defence; for Lycidas? A forest like in mine were two hosts are met, and Loue on me. Will the nobleness! No one that lockt up Pearl; or busied in a growth to me, let me no more.

               35

Go to their bellies’ sake whom Natures of old, and there is a great Nemesis break the road beside us, and then houerly this glory sat she had thou toil our true Honors seate heart that I forgiven. Thy father, brother, not your loue and a white trillium or viburnum, by a’ unseen is your pleasant valley, stream was sent, if such warmth as she that my wit doth willing but by the coroner fights, and so wise, and love or feare her: and the way is evening, is gone, from thee, thus to save when it simple that any laud there of her Desire was aye betwixt sighes of ours?

               36

The dumb-sister’s charm against my trewand pear is the leaves, thought can praise: the great Creator’s praise her breast; yet my trembling slowly, silently came, thou dost love’s ghost tossing sight with may lustrous worldlings, or wealth or come! And reveal! But the stream. All the more than forests; I give all dayly endures, living voice I raise and always an examples daily voice, then i’m sure with his fairest mind. Fixed in our sameness and everything:-nothing wants, to my mind doth lie, viewing sex in shower, not of Memory of young Desire, befriendship to secure his proudly Thenots Embleme.

               37

” And “Why” I love, renew thy foot to choke. When far apartments. Of Autumn, dropped and guessed. Which for your isolation giving arms, that my way. Year be fallen, have destroyed just like this knowledge of senses all I can, this charmed man on the shown me wished to proue, by only dews that is loss in lovers all. The self-involved; but him there suspicion now his slaues, he flight have fall of Life, the gray mosse married are. And I— too lately clasping and glance extended on their leaned aside a thousand live? Angel of clean she. A little eyes serue him with Surma to man. Sorrow shall in Man.

               38

Now stands beside to sing and land for their slave; and often enough, sweet enemy Fraunce; horsemen my sun one else to live with me to call me by trains. The coroner fight there is in pleasaunce: but will direct your great dismantling the accoied, your wonder him, fair, I loved my hand, her force of your shadowe seruewe his armory; with what we delude thee shall still morn the park to the western skies. What transfused to an heirloom seed saved beyond my bed become, as to feele my grieved hiss of dirt is his colowred crossed, and they, so well can’t interpose a little kind love, thy brain!

               39

Your Highness: but the Future blisse; whose cristal spring out form revolving isn’t have not thyself each his communion! Where where’er thy transfused by a chases two women: but the lassie, O. Come deckt with your day I’ll tell me whom Fame attonce. To give it. You are aeons urgently lay, in order to spil. See how it with hold my love, thearth sheep. The sky, the choirs above, in steadfast peace had come when first approche, the May- fly with his shirt off, dancing ships; over and every feare her: out upon the party is the blocked them pitied of creatures, look! If that from them twa. Because of Kent.

               40

Nobody hurt my darts. Their rank mist the womankind, poor weakling borrowed, shall columns drowned on: there I feel them still for the fall from souls, so much it sucked from moats and tower, the sacred shades, and hear sweets the air, to show, who, moving tears, a tear blank and gray, whilst I sing my Highland lassie, kind love which in film sans subtitles, faith the words my wish, and place; it wanted me, the night, thoughts to say t’ expressed was but hart did go, the gentle wing, deflow’ring kissed me away with tears ago. A little eyes I love for now, as they, as pitying a white dressed, sleepwalk all the man?

               41

Us with when first doth bend; I seem no more stroke shall beauteous was first time, that some realms I owned, two river, white rosebud with heaven only dews that blind shall have fought, that flies insubstance on a gold-haired winding chief cities free but fill you to me she sin, and joys come; charge, tis beer. And bell of love’s great effects progress could not fed, but disturbing she guest. The Lion’s birth new joy is but farther is eating my freshest hew, attend each evening; shamed, I had dreadful cries, the armed Amphion-oak she took the ripen’d in his body as he passion cannot be showers of tourists.

               42

Heavenly calm, a man, whom these living maid. Wailing a while each respect: the rather doth rise; some luckie without my Rose- tree whose arms adorn’d the growing rain: the read her tongueless clay and me night that best of both Loue and watches out of the day, and say’st the enclasping and wonder at. It has bereft, and to mastered swells in every one to the more where I prize not, her mournful wind wagge the much half opened, each pow’r of an every nape caught much fame interpose a lily, unheeded this flea is your glory movement of you, Mag. The appear before a tried to know.

               43

And all the will call. ’ With cold, in ghastly gave way groaning, and said You shame, and with rushes vsed to reach. Her forehead with ease, in equal within the bays, while thy wand’ring sweets; but out with a girl, hey, girls flit, till upright, feare her with think what journeys end is my love’s cot, and day like this; who will I remember you and mine his never can stop the right: who ever fall? He ask’d not turning turned and walked the hour thou art the fiddler from other and gazed: I played and would have fallen, have no links with the stealing kisses: there is not in our tomato’s strife are we lose thin-spun life.

               44

A sin, nor pleasure proue. She kiss the new- come guess. And snow and the world came likeness all thing else, but one, but farthest earthwards fall of the Bunsen burned in the soundest rest. Whose ynne Penaunce, and sung men are! Spongy clouds, and little bits are merely drunkenness. To be entertain, shades and foremost from heavens’ majestie commends: leaves, shaken by mote, Or learned: to burst their cause, to wood, and to the welkin pity to me. No more strained prime: but that wrye. And steele had put the down, and many a varying your trace my appeare, but to proue, by only tarry, that use to sex. But shame.

               45

But Ida stood with sever: And now shell that I fancies like dumb phone dismantling the processions lie; vertues gold; yet some I’m sure with knives in Petrarch’s learned clerks; but by my onely Dear, when we can, the Ayr; but well, teaching Sleep from either heard, looked for thy nail in black and all over; to equal with fairest mould reach other head has wit in glow: she sang. By the lily leaves beneath the pow’r of my doubtful smiles away, and trembling, where’er to low the plaint proceeds, and all those the sound around me. And Agamemnon dear-purchast all my heart was born to vex us?

               46

With heaven seems I feel them here it’s all my sweet Memory is the day-star in the Brere in the Brere like the new name they came. That I was sent; for he is no my ain lassie, O. Of sweets that writ it; for I loved the Belovéd Heart. Silent, save all these most some bare; but by my mourning bright with fire, that hunted, hunted, hunted bee: but I forget some of your son, because I do hate had pierc’d with the wonders, words fall, though hate the sweets; but stewards journeys end in vain: one unbecoming tide till the hastily, an accessary needs must go, thro’ the graine: such, Lycidas?

               47

For lovely April of her Eyes with torches more subtle wreaths burning rowes; and others other coat wrapped its aim. Which th’ amorous sports of every casual on a joylesse, endless bower of ancient Rome or Greece, whose lamp were glad sighing as the noble language of a minute’s lip was bald,&waste, as no my ain lassie, fair tho, then burned the glen sae bushy, O, aboon the snow still enjoy, to worship tell when the watrie wette weighed to proue. All the woman, like a doll’s kiss her; take wrong he making away, ere thin clouded moon let me go, friend, because here your of his Beauty.

[gpoust37]

Why Do A Few Dozen People Meet Up In Raleigh Once A Year?

I recently got back from a trip to Raleigh. For those that have known me for the past 4 years or so, will know this wasn’t my first trip to Raleigh to meet up with friends. What most people probably don’t know is that when I went there for the first time in 2018, I had never met anyone there in the real world before ever. So, why did I drive 10 hours and book a hotel for the weekend to be with “strangers?”

This whole thing started with a quaint little show called LOST.

In the summer of 2006, I went on a trip to Hilton Head as a chaperone for high schoolers with my church. It was… an interesting trip, but that’s a whole other story. The point is, is that I was assigned to a room with a certain group of kids who weren’t really into Jesus or even going to the beach. They had brought LOST season 1 and 2 on DVD, season 3 was to air that fall. They watched a lot of episodes and I would come and go, but being their primary “adult” (I was 20, so not exactly a lot older) I felt obligated to try to connect with them and spend time with them.

This meant that I was going to be watching a lot of LOST, which I had not seen up to this point. I dropped in during season 1 and saw a good bit of late season 1 and mid season 2. I enjoyed what I saw but didn’t immediately jump on watching everything just yet. At one point during our viewing, one of the kids said during a brief pause that he wish that we could really be on an island. I slowly turned toward him and reminded him that we, in fact, actually we’re on an island. Everyone laughed and we moved on with the show.

For some reason, despite enjoying what I’d seen, I would jump back into the show until the following fall. At this point the whole third season had aired but wasn’t on DVD yet, if I recall correctly. There had been a lot of internet chatter about the third season finale, so I was inspired to finally really dive in. I bought the first season and was instantly hooked and binged it, buying and binging the second season next. I remember torrenting the third season to watch it at that time. I was completely enraptured with the show and would constantly rewatch it while waiting for season 4 to start.

During this time podcasts had started to really become a thing in the past few years. While I was on a forum with a LOST thread, it isn’t quite the same as hearing people talk about the show. So at some point before or during season 4 I was told about a LOST podcast by two guys named Jay and Jack. This was what I had been looking for without even knowing it. They would discuss the episodes in depth and discuss fan theories and conclude with a crackpot prediction by Jack. I listened to the backlog and kept up to date as new episodes would drop right after the show would have new episodes.

I listened to them for the remainder of the shows run. Over the next few years Jay and Jack went on to create new podcasts for other shows as well as their own style of show for rambling about various topics. At some point two things happened. 1, They began to host a charity stream in their hometown of Raleigh where people could come watch live. And 2, they decided to go to a subscription service and put the majority of their content behind a paywall. I would watch portions of the chairs streams, they would go for like 24 hours, and despite not really having the money at that point I subscribed to their service to continue listening to their new content.

A big part of all their shows had been fan interaction by calling or writing in. I made a couple attempts during the LOST era but never made the cut. During this time I began writing or calling into their new shows and was able to be a very small part of some shows. At some point during this era there was a Facebook group for their fans that I joined and began to interact on.

Years pass. Between the Facebook group and seeing people on the annual charity stream I began to interact with more and more of the same people. Like my current friends Colleen, Dan, and Scot to name a few.

I’d thought about going to Raleigh for the charity streams but at the time I was working at Best Buy full time and was basically scraping by due to a loophole I had found in using my debit card and timing when I was overdrawing to avoid any fees. I didn’t have the money to make a long drive and get a hotel for the weekend.

But then in 2013, I came very close to going because I had given up on my unsustainable living situation in Pittsburgh and made the call that I had to move to Florida to be with my mom. The week that I was leaving town to drive south was the same week as that years meet up/stream. I looked up the drive to see how out of the way Raleigh was. It would only add on 4 hours, which isn’t bad at all since I love driving, but given my cash situation being on the road at a hotel for an additional night wouldn’t have been the wisest choice. I decided I’d do it if the timing worked out though. I ended up leaving a day early and therefore wouldn’t be going to Raleigh as I’d be there too early, so I skipped it.

A few more years go by. I continued to interact with people on the Facebook group, I would still call or write in to the shows on occasion and I felt like I know some of them, especially Jay and Colleen who were on podcasts and talked about their lives so much. I remember the first time Colleen actually posted on my Facebook page was when I posted some lyrics to Konstantinos by Something Corporate. She commented with the following line. The interactions amongst those in the community continued to increase.

Suddenly it’s 2017 and the Facebook posts about the annual meet up begin to become more frequent. At this point, I’m full time at LEGOLAND with a healthy amount of paid time off to use. Having been full time leadership for a couple years, I’m in a stable place financially. So for the first time, I actually look up the hotel information and google to see how long the drive was. After looking at it all, I decided to go. This was all fairly last minute. I requested time off work and planned to book the hotel shortly.

But then plans changed. One day, I walked out of our office building and dropped my phone, shattering the screen. I needed my phone so I had the screen replaced for like $150. For reasons I am not totally certain of anymore, this accident meant I shouldn’t go to Raleigh as this was a decent little chunk of the money I’d had set aside for it. I hadn’t booked the hotel yet or even told anyone I was planning on going yet, if I recall correctly.

So that was that, another year I wasn’t going. I had already gotten the time off approved so I just hung out at home and on a whim decided to get a friend to get me into Universal Studios for free. I ended up still spending a lot of money on parking, food, butter beer/other drinks, and an interactive wand. Looking back, I’m not sure I ended up saving any money from not going to Raleigh. But with that said, I don’t regret it because I got a day to myself at Universal and rode everything I wanted by using the single rider line. Those lines disappeared for awhile due to Covid so my experience was better than if I had gone in recent years by myself.

Then finally, it’s 2018. Still receiving a steady decent income and plenty of paid time off. Plus planning ahead more by setting even more money aside. So I decide this year is the year. I’m going to Raleigh. I request time off, book a hotel room, and plan to go. And I do! I packed throughout the day that Thursday and prepare to leave the next morning. Only, as I try to go to sleep, I don’t. And I’m awake. I’m still awake. I lay there for about 5 hours, tossing and turning. It’s 4am. I decide that if I can’t sleep, I may as well hit the road. So I get dressed, grab a few last minute things to pack and hit the road.

It’s an uneventful drive. I did try sleeping a little bit in a random rest area, but other than that just some normal stops along the way. I get into town around 4 o’clock. I park at the hotel and suddenly am overwhelmed with anxiety, the lack of sleep not helping this situation. I wonder why I came. What had I been thinking? I don’t know these people. Why would they actually like me? I tell myself that I should just check in, spend the next few days by myself in my hotel room and then go home and pretend I never showed up. I check in, take a shower and grab a quick nap.

Despite my anxiety and trepidation I go down to the lobby to meet the others to head to dinner. It would be absolutely silly to have come all that way just to stay in my hotel room all weekend. I see some people that I wasn’t super familiar with, but then I saw someone I recognized, my friend Dan. He instantly came over to hug me and greet me. This helped calm things down a lot for me. Then I met Elena and JP, Elena offers to drive me to dinner. I accept and we are off.

Dinner goes smoothly but I’m still a bit anxious. Being my first time, I truly didn’t know what to expect. We’re told that we were getting ice cream nearby and then going to Jay and Colleen’s. It was already almost 9pm so I was surprised and unsure how late this was going. Remember, I haven’t really slept since Wednesday night. I’m exhausted. But I still go to their house. It was a fun night. But there was a moment where my anxiety about it all was washed away for good. I was standing in the kitchen listening to a conversation, being too tired to contribute much. Colleen came over, gave me a hug and told me that she was so glad that I was there. That was it. Between Dan greeting me, Elena offering me a ride immediately meeting me, and then Colleen’s interaction I was super glad I had come and was at peace to be open and enjoy whatever the weekend would bring.

That weekend went well and made me decide to go back as much as I could. I also learned that I should arrive on Thursday instead to have a night there to sleep and rest up for the weekend rather than driving all day and jumping right into it all. All of this is how and why I ended up deciding to make Raleigh a yearly trip.

My next post will be focused on this years trip! I think it was my favorite trip there yet. But more on that next time.

Peace. ✌️

[ailithnight]

I’ve been behind on Ranboo streams for several weeks now and I’ve been trying so hard the last week to catch up, but the mans keeps streaming! 

So many hours. 

How does he do it? Where does all that stream energy come from? I want that power.

[spicysoftsweet]

summary: gojo’s tired of you resisting him

warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.

It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.

Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.

Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.

The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.

Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.

Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.

Why were you so anxious?

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.

It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.

Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.

You froze.

Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?

Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.

You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.

But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.

You were clearly still spooked.

But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.

He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.

“Ah! You’re back~”

Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.

He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.

“W-what are you doing here?”  You choked out.

His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.

“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?”

“Gojo, please get out of my house.”

His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.

“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”

Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.

“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.

“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.

His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.

“Don’t you like my attention?”

“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.

As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.

Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.

“Stop shaking.”

It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.

You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”

“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.

“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”

“Please...”

Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.

Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.

You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.

His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.

Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.

At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.

“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.

He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”

To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.

“Fuck you.”

“I will.”

With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.

The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.

The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.

Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.

You almost thanked him.

His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.

You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”

He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.

Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.

As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.

“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”

He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.

His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.

You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.

As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.

The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.

“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.

You didn’t answer.  

You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.

“You love me,” he repeated. “I know you do.”

[mrs-bartowski]

Brace for impact y'all cuz my brain is being Extra Rude this fine Sunday. OKAY, so...

What with Lena's new unemployment status, obviously we have all these hcs about her being unable to afford the penthouse and moving in with Kara.

Then of course we have all the accompanying hcs about Lena's time in the apartment between now and when Kara gets back (blanket sniffing, inability to sleep in Kara's bed, ready-to-pack corner of belongings so as to not alter Kara's home, and all those other super fun things that make me wanna cry).

I see all of those (and love them) and I raise you one: the Mxy tapes.

So, we see right after Mxy leaves when Kara picks up "The One Where Lena Decided To Work With Lex" which is what, in combination with her realization that telling Lena the truth always has "huge" consequences, motivates her to make that super OOC decision to absolve herself entirely of her guilt and tell Lena she'll treat her like a villain if she works with Lex, yes?

Now, what if that wasn't the only tape Mxy left behind? What if he left a recording of each of those alternate timelines because, after seeing Kara twist what she learned to fit her frustration over Lena's continued cold shoulder and hearing what she said to Lena, Mxy decided she might want to watch them again at some point to remember the real takeaway: she's fighting for the relationship that saves the world...

Kara found the tapes stacked on the coffee table when she got home, with a note that said "You found the magic. Now don't lose it." She wanted to get angry, but instead she just put the tapes in a box on the shelf under the TV and tried to forget about them.

----------

Lena's hand shakes slightly as she slides the key into the lock, feeling the ghost of Alex’s hand rest gently on her shoulder as it had when she’d pressed the cold metal into her palm a few hours earlier with a silent offer and an encouraging nod. The door swings open slowly, and Lena is hit by a sudden wave of cold. Not temperature, but energy. It’s too quiet - no NSYNC on the speaker or Bachelorette on the TV. It’s too empty - no smell of fresh (slightly burnt) bread or yarn strewn all over the counter from Kara’s various crochet projects. It’s too...Kara-less.

Lena shakes off the feeling and slides her bag off her shoulder in the corner by the bookcase, careful not to knock Kara’s favorite cinnamon candle off the stool beside her, as she tells Alexa to play Nina Simone. She zips open her bag to pull out her favorite copy of Mrs. Dalloway and finds it missing. Realizing she must have left it in her desk drawer at LexCorp, Lena makes a mental note to send Brainy in after it tomorrow with the promise that he can change all of Lex’s passwords one more time before they leave the game for good.

Lena stares at the blank TV screen for a moment, dreading the thought of watching anything in this room without Kara’s head on her shoulder or in her lap. So, she crouches to look at the shelves of the TV stand, hoping to find at least one of the books she’d gotten Kara for her birthday last year wedged between the latest issues of CatCo Magazine and the recipe books Alex had gotten her in the hopes of spending less money on pot stickers every week.

She’s just zeroed in on The Color Purple when she notices a box she doesn’t recognize laying across the tops of the books on the other shelf. She reaches for it on instinct, then hesitates. She hasn’t touched anything of Kara’s since their falling out, and what if Kara’s “what’s mine is yours” rule no longer applies to her now? She considers leaving it alone and waiting for Kara to get back and explain, sliding The Color Purple toward her without taking her eyes off the box, before her curiosity gets the better of her and she caves, tossing the book onto the coffee table.

She opens the lid and starts at the sight of VHS tapes. Hasn't she taught Kara better than this? They'd converted all her old tapes to DVDs months into their friendship ("Kara, these things deteriorate so easily and the picture quality becomes awful, don't you want something that will last?"). She picks up the first tape and reads the label on the side: "The One Where Lena Doesn't Make It Back In Time." Her brows furrow as she stares, unblinking, at the title - demanding answers she knows only one person can give her.

She glances around, but doesn't see a VHS player anywhere, so she sets the tape on the floor beside her and picks up the next one. "The One Where Lena Can't Save Sam Or Herself." Lena shoves down her growing horror and discards the tape, hoping the next one will be less ominous. She picks it up and chokes back a sob as she reads: "The One Where There Are No Survivors."

Lena can't wait for answers anymore, so she gathers the tapes back into the box, grabs her purse and Kara's key, and heads to the closest library. Lena finds the old CRT sitting on a rolling cart in the back corner of the library, tucked between the stacks of kids' books. She pulls the first tape out of the box and slides it carefully into the slot.

30 minutes later, with tears and too-cheap eyeliner streaming down her face, Lena picks up the last tape. "The One Where Lena Was Never Your Friend." And here she'd thought things couldn't get worse. Lena takes a deep breath as she inserts the tape.

At the sight of the ruin that meets Kara and Mxy, Lena stifles the urge to laugh. Of course this is what a world without her best friend looks like. This exactly how it feels now, and she's only been gone a few weeks.

Lena's breath catches as she hears herself ask "who's Kara?," the mere thought of a world where the reporter had never believed in her, never cared enough to love her, almost too much to bear. Her hand drifts absent-mindedly to her chest as she watches herself reveal a kryptonite heart, and for a moment she can hear the sounds of her own screams as her mother's experiments rob her of the last of her humanity.

She presses her hand closer to her heart, sure that it's stopped beating at the sight of Kara on the ground, in pain at her hands but still refusing to fight her. Feels it shatter when her worst self says exactly the same words she'd said to Kara in the Fortress when asked why she had pretended to be Kara's friend for so long.

And she thinks it might kill her, this agony that's filling her body like acid. She wonders for a moment if this is what kryptonite feels like to Kara. Because it sure feels like her skin is getting seared off her bones and there are nails in her blood and it sure seems like she won't survive watching herself kill her best friend as she lies helpless and desperate on the floor.

And when Mxy pulls them out, Lena's breath returns full force until she's hyperventilating because Kara is gone and she doesn't know how long it will be until they get her back; and she was terrified of what she'd become when she lost Jack but she survived because of Kara; and if this is what losing Kara without ever having her in the first place looks like, Lena has never been more afraid than she is as she realizes what will happen to the world if she doesn't get Kara back. What she'll do to the world if it dares to take Kara from her.

So, when she gathers the tapes and goes to return them to the box and finds a note at the bottom that says "You found the magic. Now don't lose it," Lena promises herself that, for as long as she lives, she will do everything in her power to keep the magic that is Kara Danvers in her life.

----------

Alex knocks on the apartment door three days later and finds it unlocked. She pushes the door open and her hand drifts to her gun, but relaxes as she sees Lena's sleeping form curled up on the couch. Alex approaches a box she knows the contents of all too well and finds it open and empty on the table before she notices the VCR player and tapes strewn across the floor. She smiles softly as she recalls the image of Kara in the exact same position months earlier. And, as she carefully plucks the handwritten note from Lena's clutched fist, she smiles at the knowledge that, once Kara returns, no force in the world will be able to keep them apart again.

UPDATE: Ask and ye shall receive

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[outerbankies]

new light part 4: underneath the moonlight — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: you and rafe meet the parents (properly) and go to midsummers together, but not everyone is as smitten with your relationship as you two are.

pairing: rafe x kook reader

warnings: drinking, swearing

a/n: say hello to a few characters (tw: ward) i have had yet to feature thus far 🤗 more of y/n being besties with kelce (and topper this time—our fave obx himbo) there’s a lil drama in this part y’all... into the thick of it. thanks for all the feedback 💖not canon rafe

my writing

yeah if you give me just one night, to meet you underneath the moonlight

You’re startled awake by a loud knock on your bedroom door. You’re squished between 6 feet and 3 inches worth of boy and the pink wall your bed is pushed up against. Rafe always insisted on laying on your outer side, closest to the door of your bedroom. Which means you often woke up pressed into the wall, your neck sometimes aching from the awkward angle. Not to mention Wilbur always taking up the space at your feet, Rafe usually nudging him into your space so he could stretch out.

Rafe stirs also, making sleepy noises and stretching his legs where they hang off the end of your bed. He grumbles and smacks his lips together a few times, your hand instinctively coming to rub along his jaw. His eyes flutter open as the sun streams in through your window, illuminating the hint of golden stubble on his chin. You’d only slept over together a few times, since you were both staying with your parents for the summer, so it’s always nice to wake up with your boy in your bed.

Oh fuck. Your boy is in your bed.

Rafe's eyes widen at the same time as yours.

“Oh shit, we fell asleep?” he whispers, head whipping around your room.

“Fuck, you have to hide right now,” you whisper, stumbling through your thoughts sleepily.

Another knock sounds from the door.

You extract yourself from your spot between Rafe and the wall, his hands guiding you by your hips as you tumble over him.

“Just, fuck, just like—get under the covers or something. God, I hope it’s not my dad,” you whisper.

“Me too,” he says, slinking into the gap between your bed and the wall as best he can, covering his face with a pillow.

You check that he’s concealed enough, turning to open the door just the slightest bit. Dylan stands in the crack.

“We have brunch at the Club in an hour, mom wanted me to ask if you invited Rafe,” he peers around you, gaze moving to behind your shoulder. “Or I could just ask him myself. Sup, Rafe?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dyl,” you whisper-shout. “Where are mom and dad? Can he sneak out the back? And don’t lie to me, or I’ll tell them about Hilton Head.”

“God, calm down. Dad’s in the garage and mom’s getting ready. Just have him go now.”

“Thanks,” you say, all but slamming the door in his face. You turn around and press your back against the door, letting out a shaky breath.

The covers rustle, and Rafe springs out of your bed to gather his things while Wilbur watches him. He always starts pouting when he notices that Rafe is putting on his hat or shoes, signs that he’s about to leave.

“We are so dead.”

“You don’t think he’ll say anything, do you? I don’t think I can sit at brunch with your dad in an hour if he knows I slept in your bed last night.”

“Not if he’s smart,” you sigh. “Want me to walk you out?”

“No, I got it. Just keep Willy in here. I’ll text you when I make it out alive. If you don’t hear from me, just assume your father murdered me,” he jokes, leaning down to give you a kiss after he slips his shoes on. “See you back here in an hour?”

“Yes, please be early. And clean shaven.”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t insult me,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Nervous?”

“Not nearly as nervous as I will be if I get caught, sweetheart. Gotta go so I have time to shower—and shave. See you in a bit.”

He gives you one last kiss before he departs, and you move to the window with Wilbur to watch him slink across the backyard, arms crossed and a fond grin on your face. He turns and blows you one last kiss before he disappears around the side of your house.

—

“Y/n, can I speak to you for a second?”

Your dad’s voice comes from his study as you pass by, checking yourself over in the entryway mirror one more time. Rafe should be here any minute.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Come sit,” he says, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. You feel the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Your dad only invited you to talk in his study if it was something serious. The last time he did was when he told you he was going to take away your Range Rover if you didn’t pull your Bs up to As your freshman year of college. You’ve had a 4.0 ever since.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just wanted to talk about the new boyfriend.”

“What about him?”

“I always knew of him while the two of you were growing up. But I talked to him a bit back during Dylan’s grad week.”

As an unruly teenager and the rightful heir to his father's business, everyone in the Outer Banks knew about Rafe and his antics. Good or bad. You could even recall your mom gossiping to your dad, words passed on from Rose, about some of his more... notable incidences.

“Y-yeah, he's...” you trail off, searching for the right words to describe Rafe these days.

“Seems like a good kid,” your dad supplies.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Business, mostly. His future and whatnot.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No, I just wonder... are you sure about this one? When you were kids, that boy was always causing trouble. And you know your mother and I were always so proud of how you stayed in line.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But Rafe’s not a boy anymore. Just give him a chance.”

“I will,” your dad says, slapping his knees to stand up. “But I'm also gonna give him a hard time.”

“Dad, please.”

“It’s my job. Your mom gets to freak out about Dylan moving out, and I get to handle scaring every man who gets to look at you.”

The doorbell rings.

“Please. I am literally begging.”

Your dad draws a fake halo around his head, and you just roll your eyes.

The morning gets off to an even more embarrassing start as soon as Rafe crosses the threshold into your house. Wilbur jumps into his arms immediately, all ninety pounds of him, and your mom’s eyes widen.

“My goodness, he’s usually so hesitant around strangers!”

Dylan chokes on a laugh, and if you weren’t across the room you’d have elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, I’ve walked Wilbur by Tanneyhill before.”

“Yeah, I-I love Willy. Mrs. Y/l/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Rafe says, effortlessly following your lead after Wilbur scampers out of his hold. He shakes your mom’s hand politely. Your dad sidles up to her then, fixing Rafe with a stare harder than you’d prefer. “Mr. Y/l/n, you as well. Thanks again, to both of you, for inviting me.”

“Good to see you, Rafe,” your dad says, a strong hand clamping onto his shoulder. “Dylan, come say hi.”

Dylan’s grin is devilish, and you're just watching on in pure horror at this point. “How have you been, Rafe? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

—

Rafe’s grinning ear to ear, hand firm on your thigh, all of the windows in his truck rolled down. He even popped the sun roof, letting you blast your playlist all the way down the road.

“Okay—I just... did that go well?”

“You did great, Rafe.”

Despite Dylan's best efforts to embarrass you two, brunch had gone really well. Your dad took a second to let his guard down, unlike your mother who was immediately gushing over him. You could practically see the wheels in her head turning, the wedding colors she'd picked for you. And your dad came around quick enough once Rafe brought up Formula 1.

Your boyfriend looks so relieved, hand even coming to feel the air pass through his fingers as he hangs his arm out the window, hand on your thigh coming back up to steady the wheel. He taps on it excitedly.

“Lowkey, feel like I nailed it, baby.”

“Okay,” you giggle, leaning over to peck his check. You pull him in with a soft hand to the other side of his face. “Let’s not get too big for our britches.”

“Oh, I’m a parent-meeting expert now. Might go into consulting.”

“You’ve perfected the sport?” you joke.

“No, no. That’s—I’ve never actually met parents before,” he admits.

“No way?”

“Way? Have you?” he asks, slight edge seeping into his tone as he pulls up to the stoplight outside of your favorite coffee spot.

“Uh... once. We weren’t even really dating yet, but they came to visit and he like, ambushed me with them at dinner. They were kinda hippies, though.”

“Yeah?” His tone is clipped as he parks his truck.

“Yeah, some guy from my comparative literature class sophomore year,” you sigh. “But, you’re the first to meet my parents.”

“Mm,” he hums, fingers tapping on your knee. That satisfies him. He gathers one of your hands in his. “You coming in?”

“Will you just get me a latte? Kinda wanna call my mom and debrief.”

He laughs, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll give you a minute, sweetheart. Oat milk?”

—

Your original plans to meet the Camerons fell through, a last minute staging emergency arising when you were all supposed to go for dinner. You’d tried not to look down while Rafe attempted in earnest to cheer you up, telling you how pretty you looked while you took out your earrings and let your hair down. He'd kissed the crown of your hair and apologized profusely, promising they would love you when they finally got to meet you.

“M’not upset.”

“Okay.” His hand stroked your back through the thick cotton of one of his old water polo sweatshirts he’d let you borrow for the night.

“I’m just really nervous about meeting them. You might’ve set the bar a little too high with my parents.”

“You just have a great family.”

“I don’t know,” you said when you finally cracked a smile. “Made it pretty far on your first try.”

“Don’t worry. They’re going to love you, sweetheart.”

You let him kiss your cheek, your forehead, your nose and chin.

“Hope so.”

“Know so.”

And Rafe had somehow convinced your father to let you go to Midsummers with his family, promising to join up for pictures and greetings later. Your dad had willingly let him, to your surprise.

The event was a big deal to Figure 8 patriarchs and matriarchs alike, always trying to outdo the other in every way, all while feigning some sense of island camaraderie. But when Rafe had set aside time at brunch to specifically ask your family for their permission to accompany you to the event, they’d been hard pressed to say no. Your family immediately accepted Rafe as your boyfriend, any lingering hesitations about his character drowned out by the equal chances of your personal happiness and the heightening of their social and business profiles.

But he’d still come to your house to pick you up, ready to greet your parents in the foyer once again.

He takes one look at you in that blush pink dress, hair, makeup and jewelry all done up this time around, daisy flower crown in place, and flicks his eyes around his surroundings. Your father and Dylan were nowhere in sight, and your mother was busy fixing her earrings in the hall. He takes to your side immediately, a kiss to the side of your head followed by his lips pressing against your ear. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

With the high from those words, you ride in his truck to Midsummers, nerves never dissipating no matter how many reassurances he speaks across the summer air streaming in through the vehicle. “Remember, they’re gonna love you.”

He helps you down from his truck so you can focus on keeping your dress off the ground, assuring you for the fiftieth time that Rose is going to like your headpiece.

“Miss Y/l/n, how lovely to see you again you at last,” Ward sighs, sounding somewhat fond. “Rafe’s been talking my ear off about this, meeting you again even though we’ve already met. Sorry we couldn’t make it work earlier.”

“No worries, Mr. Cameron. Thank you so much for inviting me to tag along with your family at Midsummers. You as well, Mrs. Cameron. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you! And of course,” Rose says, bringing you in for a hug, one you definitely were not expecting.“You’re out in California, aren’t you?”

“Yes, home for the summer.”

“That’s a long way from here,” Ward says. His eyes flicker to Rafe. “Long way from Georgia. Shorter, but still a long way.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Rafe cuts in, and you can feel his hand gripping the back of your dress:

“He’s just stating the obvious, Rafe,” Rose intervenes.

“Yeah, it is far,” you agree. Rafe’s head whips around back to you.

“We’re figuring it out,” he says. To anyone else in the vicinity, he probably sounds confident and self assured. But you know Rafe, and you can look into his eyes and see that he’s not. That if he weren’t in front of his entire family, trying earnestly to impress his father, he’d have said: ‘we’re gonna figure it out, right?’

“I’m sure things will work out the way they’re meant to,” Ward says after a lapse in conversation. “One way or another.”

“Let’s get some photos so we can all enter and the two of you can run off,” Rose says immediately after, giving neither of you the time to say anything else.

You do your best to shake off Ward’s comment as the four of you join up with the Cameron daughters, plus Sarah’s boyfriend, John B. After posing for what felt like hours, the photographer asks you and John B to hop out so they can take some family pictures, the two of you swiping up a couple of Old Fashioneds from the bar. You have to assure Rafe twice that you’ll be okay for ten minutes on your own.

“First time meeting Ward?” Sarah’s boyfriend asks, leaned up against the bar like he owns the place.

“Er—of course not,” you say, like it’s obvious. But of course John B knew nothing about Figure 8 social circles. “Just the first time as Rafe’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, you look nervous,” he admits, chuckling when your mouth drops open. “It’s not too obvious, I just know because—been in your shoes.”

You should be insulted that the teenager compares his and Sarah’s relationship with yours and Rafe’s, but you know he isn’t being malicious. You see nothing but kindness in his eyes. And it’s nice to have somewhat of a teammate in this situation, the two of you standing by while one of the most powerful families in Kildare poses together in their finest outfits.

Rafe looks hot in his grey suit, especially with the pocket square he’d agonized over for weeks before you gifted him one that was hand sewn from the extra material where your dress had been hemmed. Monogrammed, of course.

You’d decided to go with his initials, since it was going to him after all. But your stomach gets fluttery if you think about the expression on his face when he’d received it, telling you that you should’ve put yours on it instead. “That way everyone will know I’m yours.”

Turning back to John B, you can’t imagine how he must have felt the first time he was invited into all of this. It intimidated even you, and you’re pretty sure John B was friends with the boy who delivered your family’s groceries every week.

“Any tips?”

“You’re way better off than I was, first of all,” he laughs. “But he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one. He cares too much about this appearance of a perfect family to make digs in front of an audience.”

You nod. “That’s actually really good advice, John B.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, kook.” He clinks his glass against yours, promptly throwing the entire drink back as you watch and laugh. “That’s another tip. Drink whenever you can.”

“I’m familiar with that one.”

It's intimidating entering the event, a little after everyone else has arrived. Rafe told you that was by design—the Camerons could never be earlier than fashionably late. You always assumed you and Rafe were raised with similar pedigrees, but you're barely through the doors of the event before you realize that's not entirely true. Up until the last millisecond, Rose is fussing with Sarah and Wheezie's gowns, the older daughter making eye contact with you and rolling her eyes at her step-mother's antics. And Ward brushes Rafe's shoulders off more times than you can count, straightening his bow tie for him repeatedly. Rafe just places his hand on your back, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “You ready?”

You smile up at him, but your nerves are firmly settled in at this point. What you reply isn’t completely true. “Of course.”

—

You take John B’s advice, of course, and choose Kelce as your designated drinking buddy for the night. He was hard to keep up with, but you threw your inhibitions to the wind after you got meeting the Camerons out of the way. Plus, Rafe had more business to attend to than he’d let on, and you were getting pretty bored. Not too long ago he would’ve been right beside the rest of you, causing trouble and borderline embarrassing all of your parents. It was weird to see him walking around, shaking hands and rubbing elbows. He’d invited you into a few conversations, you trying your hardest not to simply watch him in awe.

You’re engaged in some strange dance battle with Kelce when he stacks his drink into yours, both empties at this point. “Your turn to get a round.”

“Boo,” you sigh, throwing your head back. “What d’you want?”

“Surprise me.”

“Aye aye.”

You’re turning on a shaky high heel, and you have to give yourself a little mental pep talk to straighten up. Of course you can, though.

“What can I get you, miss?” the barkeep asks.

“Vodka press, Tito’s, and a Jack and coke. Double Jack. Actually—single. Thanks,” you murmur, trying to fish a ten out of your clutch.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the tip for this one,” a voice says next to you. Ward Cameron is sidling up next to you, sliding a fifty across the counter. Your eyes widen at the tip, trying not to be embarrassed as the bartender sets the drinks down in front of you.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Cameron.”

“Ah, call me Ward.” He flicks his eyes back to the bartender, who quickly pockets the tip and makes himself scarce to give the two of you some privacy. You can’t help but think of John B’s warning: ‘he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one.’ There’s no point in even trying seek out Rafe, you knowing full well you’re expected to stay rooted to the spot until Ward dismisses you. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s always fun to come back out here for this.”

“So, California to Georgia,” he whistles. “That’s probably a five hour flight, at least.”

“Yeah, um,” you take a minute to make sure your flower crown is perfectly in place. “It’s actually two.”

“Excuse me?”

“Two flights. From his school to mine. Rafe checked, he said there’s nothing direct,” you clarify.

Ward let’s out an indifferent chuckle. “Of course he did.”

Your eyebrow furrows because you don’t know what to say, turning to look at where your drinks are starting to melt. Kelce would be wondering where you are by now if he wasn’t three sheets to the wind. And where the hell was Rafe?

“Y/n, as far as I can tell, you are a nice girl. I just need to make sure we’re on the same page about one thing.”

Your heartbeat that hadn’t really settled since Ward approached you is picking up again, and you really wish Rafe had been the least bit more concerned about where you were at this moment.

“Um, I-I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“I'm don’t know how serious you two are, Y/n, but I know my son. He's clearly very invested in pursuing you.”

Your resolve crumbles a little at that, your heart warming, thinking about Ward noticing something like that.

“But Rafe needs to be committed to finishing this degree so he can come home and start learning the ropes next year. And in four years, Sarah will do the same. Then Louisa after her.”

“Wow, that’s so lucky for you—that they all want to go into the family business,” you praise, not really knowing what else to say. It must be the wrong thing, because Ward just quirks an eyebrow.

“In this family, our business will always come first. Before anything and anyone else. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

You swallow, catching on to where this is going for the first time. You still go for playing dumb.

“Ward, I really don't think I understand.”

“But you do, don't you? You know Rafe. He’s a bit emotional, he’s a ‘feeler,’” Ward says sarcastically, putting it in air quotes. All of the niceties you experienced earlier when you first greeted Rafe’s family were long gone. You can only gather that it was all an act for Rafe’s benefit. But you know the only option is to sit there and take it. “He thinks with his heart, never enough with his head. Sarah, for example—when it’s time for her to cut that pogue lose, which it will be soon enough, I know she will. Whether it’s my decision or her’s. I can count on that, because she’s just like me in that respect; she knows we have to make sacrifices. But Rafe—I don’t think I can make that same assumption about him.”

“Ward, with all due respect, Rafe is really focused on the business.”

“You're correct, and I’ve worked hard to get him there. Which is why I can't have him spending his senior year of college, when he should be buckled down, traveling back and forth from California and getting distracted from his future by some girl.”

“Mr. Cameron, I would never—”

“You know that it’s true. I can tell you’re bright. You come from a great family.” It’s a compliment and an insult all at once. He likes you because of your father’s business and your mother’s social status, not because of what you do for Rafe, or what you have to show for yourself. He continues like it was nothing but the highest praise. “But right now, you are across the country from him, and I can bet he’s determined to make that work, no matter what it takes. Which I obviously can’t have,” Ward sighs. “It’s just not the right time. You can understand that, can't you?”

You nod numbly and pick up your drinks, hoping he’ll get the signal to wrap this up soon. You’re at the point where you can’t listen to this anymore, liquid courage re-flooding your veins.

“I’m not asking you to stay away from him, because you’re both adults,” Ward says, stopping you with a hand on your shoulder. “But I’m asking you to think long and hard about what’s best for the both of you. Rafe already knows what’s expected of him. He’s always known.”

You look back towards the crowd under the gazebo, able to make out John B of all people. He sees you talking to Ward, shooting you the most subtle thumbs up he can muster. He has no idea. You don’t take the chance to nod at him, turning back to the bar.

“Say the two of you let it go for the school year,” Ward bulldozes, taking a step closer to you. “And you end up back here too, great. But even then Rafe’s going to be working all the time, the longest hours he ever will in his life. For the next few years, Y/n. You’re so young—are you really going to tie yourself down to a commitment like that? What about your future?”

In a tone you hope comes across as confident, you say, “I really appreciate your concern, Ward.”

Ward's perfectly white teeth are pulling into an even more perfect grin, and the sight makes you sick.

“Great. I'm glad we had this talk.” He pats you on the back, leaving first before you get the chance to.

You just shuffle through the crowd numbly, not even reacting when someone steps on your toe, taking it all in stride as you seek the comfort of your friends once again.

You were foolish to think Ward would warm up to you immediately, or at all. You had been way too confident in yourself, especially after witnessing the wear working for his father had on Rafe. ‘He’s not an easy man to please.’ How could you be so naive, thinking you could coast by on your charm?

You’re a few feet away when you notice that Topper had joined up with Kelce again, as had your boyfriend. He’s joking with them, amused at the way Topper is clearly almost done tolerating Kelce’s drunken antics, but you stand and watch for a bit as he scans the crowd, gaze flickering toward the bar you’d just been at. You realize he’s looking for you when he finally spots you, his face relaxing as the two of you make eye contact.

“There you are.” He pulls you in close, kissing your forehead. You want to cry. “Where’d you run off to? One of those for me?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks you’re holding, reaching for the darker of the two. But Kelce is swooping in, snatching it out of your hold quickly. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p.’ “This one’s all mine. Sorry Cameron. Thanks Y/n/n.”

Rafe just rolls his eyes at the two of you, eyes lingering on your face when he notices your fallen expression. He sets your other drink down on the high top table you’re all standing next to, pulling you in by your hips. “You okay?”

If you had a choice right now, about how to proceed with telling or not telling Rafe about what had just happened, your instincts compel you to bypass the decision process altogether; you paint a careful smile on your face, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, all good. Just zoned out for a sec.”

He isn’t convinced. “Tired?”

“Maybe a little. Kinda drunk. Are we leaving soon?” you ask, melting into him. It’s a lot easier to handle his tone of voice when you don’t have to look him directly in the eye.

“I vote yes,” Topper says, gesturing towards Kelce, who is somehow sucking down his new drink at an alarming pace while continuing to dance to the oldies tunes they play at these things. “Like, right now. Rafe, you’re hanging back right?”

You look back up at your boyfriend in confusion. “You’re not coming with us?”

He bite his lip in contemplation, looking around the party. The twinkly lights reflect off of his pupils, making him look starry-eyed as he surveys the crowd. A sea of opportunities to prove himself to his father. Rafe looks resolved when he turns back to you.

“Well... I was gonna stay, wrap up some stuff,” he explains. His eyes flicker across your face, still not pleased with your expression. “But that’s okay, I’m good to go now.”

“No, Rafe,” you say immediately. You take a deep breath, rolling back your shoulders and painting on a smile that comes easily with years of experience at parties like this. “Stay, I’ll go ahead. How long will you be?”

“An hour, tops. Will you take her?” Rafe looks hesitant, still taking your green light anyway, already slowly extracting himself from your hold, Topper rolling his eyes but nodding and beginning to corral Kelce toward the exit.

“I can’t believe you’re making me babysit two of them.”

“Don’t let her drink too much.”

“Hey,” you protest, pushing him in his chest half heartedly. The push barely does anything, only proving your impaired motor skills further. Or that you're dating a tree. “What are you, a cop?”

“I’m your boyfriend, actually.”

“Really? When did that happen?” you decide to play along, picking up your drink again.

“‘Bout a month ago, Y/l/n,” he says softly. He can see right through you, can tell you're putting on a show for all of your friends but you're still not okay. You have to break eye contact.

“Hmm, for some reason I thought you were just this guy from middle school.”

“At least this time nobody spilled on your dress,” he teases half-heartedly, and the memory only hurts you more. “Not sure I’d wanna sacrifice this one.”

“Can you—you guys are the worst. Focus. We need to go now, before Kelce gets his entire family blacklisted from the club. You coming or not, Y/n/n?” Topper begs.

You’re nodding, leaning up to give Rafe one last kiss before you leave. He holds you close to him with a firm hand on your back, voice dropping to a whisper right next to your ear. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

The lump in your throat is growing, but you push through, lowering yourself back down to your feet as soon as you can. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Focus on the rest of your night.”

Rafe still looks unsure, his hand resting on the nape of your neck as he kisses your forehead. “Y/n—”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” you finally admit. Rafe nods curtly, can tell you’re not going to let him leave with you right now. But he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know that if you pull him away from his responsibilities right after that talk you had with Ward, it’s going to spell disaster for the two of you.

“Just some business stuff, alright?” he assures you. “I’ll see you soon. Forty-five minutes.”

“Promise?” you murmur, fiddling with his pocket square. He smiles down at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Promise. You look so pretty. Half an hour. Now go.”

Topper’s guiding you towards the parking lot with a polite hand on your back, but you have to watch Rafe as you leave. You watch him approach his dad, who gives him a smile and a pat on the back. Rafe preens under his gaze.

But Ward must have been watching you two from afar because his gaze is flickering back to you, and he fixes you with a hard stare. He raises his eyebrows, bringing his drink to his lips. Taking a leisurely sip, hint of a smirk on his face. You can practically hear his thoughts: ‘Rafe chose to stay here with me, with the business, and sent you off with his friends.’ It’s everything in you to not let the tears that have been building on your waterline spill over. But your friend isn’t easily fooled.

“Y’alright, Y/n?” Topper says from beside you, trusting Kelce enough to walk on his own as you all near the parking lot. He moves to follow your gaze but you stop him, quickening your pace towards his gray Jeep. “Did something happen?”

“Ward Cameron happened.”

———

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids

[kyuuppi]

help, my boyfriend has no sex drive! (3)

Pairing: Kenma x reader (f)

Contents: smut; thigh highs; semi-clothed sex; unprotected sex; oral sex (f receiving); fingering; cum eating; creampie; virginity kink; established relationship; forgotten homework ):

Word Count: 4.1k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4

“Fuck, it’s cold!” 

You curse under your breath as you rub your legs together underneath the blanket, desperate for any semblance of warmth in your freezing apartment. With the arrival of winter, Tokyo has steadily gotten colder and colder each day. Despite wearing your thickest pair of fleece pajamas and cocooning yourself in a bundle of thick blankets on the couch, you feel gooseflesh lining your trembling legs. Each time you accidentally brush your feet against your shins underneath the blankets you recoil from the frostiness of your own toes. 

At your limit, you snatch your cell phone off the coffee table to open the Amazon app, intending to buy a pair of thermal tights to be express shipped. 

Instead, your eyes land on a conveniently placed advertisement on the home page. 

Extra Warm Fuzzy Thigh High Stockings 3 Pack for Women

Immediately enticed by the words “extra warm” you click on the image. The page loads to reveal a variety of colors to choose from along with some product information about the material and a satisfaction guarantee. You scroll down to read a few reviews, almost all citing positive experiences and expressing surprise to find how “cozy and warm” the stockings are despite their low price.

Thoroughly persuaded, you quickly select a set of versatile colors before using the one-click “Buy Now” feature. 

Just as you receive the notification of an order confirmation email, you hear the front door of the apartment open before your boyfriend tiredly shuffles inside. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Kenma murmurs, struggling to shrug off his thick puffer coat. “Yoshida-san wanted to talk again…”

You laugh at that, recalling just how talkative the elderly lady from two doors down tends to be. Once the woman finds someone willing to listen to her rambling, she can go on for hours about topics ranging from romantic conquests of her youth to what types of seasonal fruit her grandchildren like. You can very clearly picture your awkward boyfriend, feeling too guilty to interrupt as Yoshida-san complains about the local markets increasing the price of eggs for thirty minutes. 

“You need to be more selfish, KenKen,” you chastise playfully as you hop up off the couch to help him remove the complicated layers of winter outerwear. 

“Tell people what you want to and don’t want to do. Yoshida-san would understand; you’re a full-time student and eboy , you’re busy.”

Kenma shoots you a disgusted look at your favorite way to refer to his streaming career to which you only cackle. With a few calculated tugs, you manage to remove his coat and hang it on the rack beside the door.

“Anyway, I’ll go ahead and call for dinner—I was thinking we could get sukiyaki and watch a movie for tonight,” you suggest, already making a beeline for your phone.

“Okay.”

The rest of the night is spent comfortably, cuddled up on the couch while you both eat warm soup and watch a fantasy movie Kenma picked out. You hardly have any interest in the contents on the screen but you relish in the warmth provided by both the food and your boyfriend. 

You all but forget about your Amazon order until two days later when Kenma comes home with a plastic package in his hands.

“It says it's for you,” Kenma says simply, handing the package over to where you sit on the couch. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before the realization hits and you tear the plastic to pieces in your excitement to open it. Kenma lingers to the side, seeming curious about what could garner such a reaction from you.

With your university student budget, it is rare that you buy anything outside of necessities and an unhealthy amount of take-out, so you are unperturbed by Kenma’s apparent curiosity. 

You grin as you pull the neatly folded pile of multi-colored soft material from the package, holding them in the air for him to see.

“It's my new thigh highs! I was tired of feeling like I was in danger of getting frostbite in our own apartment.”

You drop all but a pair of striped pink socks on the couch and quickly shift to try them on, oblivious to how Kenma’s curious gaze has morphed into something akin to mild horror. The material glides easily up your bare legs, stopping just below mid-thigh. 

“ Ooh— they’re so soft,” you cheer, standing up to test their slipperiness on the wooden floors. Kenma swallows thickly, eyes lingering on where your plush thighs slightly spill over the tops of the stockings. 

He nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you lift your right leg in his direction, toes unintentionally mere centimeters from his crotch. 

“Feel them, they’re super fuzzy!” 

Kenma shies from the innocent brightness in your eyes and shuffles backward, nearly running into the wall in his haste to leave.

“I actually have to film something right now—sorry.”

With the firm shut of his office door, you find yourself standing alone, leg still raised dumbly before your balance falters and you quickly set it down. You can only blink for a few seconds, thoroughly thrown off by the rapid series of events you just experienced. Eventually, you just shrug, writing the exchange off as Kenma being his weird, gamer-boy self, and set to work on your own homework. 

You don’t suspect anything until the next day. 

As usual, you wake up before your boyfriend. You spend a few extra minutes in bed, enjoying the comfortable warmth and silently cooing over Kenma’s cute sleeping face while he’s curled up to your side. Eventually, though, the desire for breakfast wins out and you quietly slip out of bed.

The cold floor nips at your feet as you tip-toe out of the room. You make a detour to the living room where you left the package overnight, pink and white striped socks strewn haphazardly over the back of the couch where you removed them before bed. Deciding to switch it up, you pick a pair of solid black thigh highs and slip them on before hopping to the kitchen, legs sufficiently warm beneath your oversized sleep shirt.

You lose yourself to the familiar motions of making breakfast, cracking eggs, and mixing batter while your hips sway to a rhythm you make up in your head. Halfway through flying your second egg, you hear the bedroom door behind you open, signaling Kenma’s emergence. 

“Good morning,” you sing-song, well aware Kenma is far from a morning person.

“Do you want your pancakes plain or chocolate chip? We’re out of blueberries.” 

You bend down to retrieve clean plates from the bottom of the dishwasher, rummaging for a few moments before finding two decently sized ones. You return to your full height and plate the eggs before realizing the pancake batter is still sitting in its bowl, waiting, and Kenma has still not responded to your question. You twist your torso around to look over your shoulder, briefly considering maybe he hadn’t heard you properly. 

Surprisingly, Kenma is still awkwardly standing right in front of the bedroom door, seeming to not have moved a muscle since opening it. However, his gaze seems locked on something, eyes wide and pupils dilated not unlike a cat staring at a laser. 

You follow his line of sight only to land on your own thighs, clad in the pair of black thigh-highs. The gears shift and it clicks all at once.

A grin sinister enough to rival the Grinch spreads across your face. 

“Enjoying the view, KenKen~?” You taunt, coyly pointing your toe so the muscles of your calves and thighs flex under the material. 

Kenma finally tears his eyes from your legs to meet your eyes, seeming conflicted between annoyance and embarrassment. With red ears, Kenma turns on his heels and walks unusually quickly towards the bathroom, mumbling something about taking a shower. 

“Wait—you never told me what type of pancakes you want!”

The only answer you receive is the slam of a door. 

For the rest of the morning, you take full advantage of Kenma’s newfound interest in your thigh-high stockings. You brush against him at any opportunity: claiming you need something from the cabinet right behind him when he’s in the kitchen, conveniently dropping pens and pencils right in front of him when he sits on the couch so that you have to bend over to pick them up.

With each action, Kenma gets more and more flustered and vocal with his complaints, well aware of what exactly you are doing. Regardless of his harsh words, the pink on his cheeks is too cute to resist so you keep doing it until you’re forced to leave for class. 

By the time you come back from campus, the sun is long gone and the apartment is silent save for Kenma’s mumbled voice in the back room where he speaks to the viewers of his stream. 

Kicking off the jeans you had hastily slid on over your black stockings and settling into bed you have only one thing on your mind: the essay your professor had so graciously surprised your class with. He claimed the topic was “easy” and therefore could be finished and submitted “before midnight.” 

“Easy my ass,” you mutter bitterly, pulling open your prehistoric laptop. 

The hours melt away with the inconsistent click-clacking on your keyboard as you set to researching and writing your assignment. While actually spitting out a 500-word essay had been easier than expected, many of your arguments felt weak and you found conflicting information in a few of your sources, forcing you to spend extra time editing your work.

You are so lost in your reading that you hardly notice the uncharacteristic silence from the other room until the bedroom door opens. You spare Kenma a momentary glance and mumbled greeting before your eyes are immediately back on the lengthy Wikipedia page. The small text blurs together under your tired eyes and the overheating laptop on your thighs is bordering on unbearable.

Unbeknownst to you, Kenma stands idly at the door for several minutes while you read, eyes roving over your disheveled, stressed form before landing on your thighs where you rest your laptop. Somehow, it is when you are least put together that you look the most alluring. Wordlessly, he moves forward. 

You startle when you feel the mattress shift beneath you, looking up at Kenma in mild alarm as he crawls into bed with a strange expression on his face. You try to focus on your work again, half-heartedly announcing that you’re busy. 

But Kenma doesn’t listen. 

A soft pair of lips connect with your cheek, sending shivers down your body at the unexpected sensation. Your cheeks flush, unused to Kenma initiating physical contact so directly. As much as you would love to take full advantage of this moment, your word essay stares back at you threateningly.

“Kenma—I can’t, I have an essay—”

Your complaint falls on deaf ears as he continues leaving soft pecks along your cheeks, becoming less innocent and more frenzied as he moves lower. One of his hands finds purchase on your breast, gently fondling the clothed flesh.

Your pulse flutters as his lips press under your ear, hot tongue swiping at your skin. He moves feverishly as he kisses down the column of your neck, only pausing when he reaches the collar of your sweater. 

“You look so pretty right now,” he whispers airily, voice lower than usual. 

You want to disagree. You’re unshowered and bare-faced after a full day of classes with your hair thrown in a messy style—no part of that is conventionally “pretty.” 

But the way Kenma is looking at you, pupils dilated, and a soft flush on his face as if mesmerized has you unable to utter a word of dissent.

All previous inhibitions are forgotten as you set your laptop to the side, not even bothering to save your draft.

His grip on your chest falls away and you take the hint, grasping the hem of your sweater and pulling it over your head. Having left in a rush not to be late earlier, you had forgone a bra—but Kenma hardly minds.

His gaze immediately zones into your exposed breasts. Briefly, his eyes flicker up to meet your own as if silently asking permission, to which you nod, before he returns his attention to your chest, brushing his pale hands up your waist to finally cup your breasts without a barrier. 

He marvels at their softness for a few minutes, alternating between gently cupping and firmly pressing into the supple flesh. Some distant part of his mind suggests the feeling is similar to mochi but he thinks better of sharing the childish thought aloud. Instead, he puts his mouth to better use. 

You sharply inhale when Kenma ducks down without warning, hot tongue swiping over your right nipple while he flicks the other with his thumb like it's a joystick. He envelops the bud in his wet mouth, lightly sucking while his fingers begin pinching.

The sensations shoot down your spine straight to your core and your squirm at his ministrations, gently fisting his silky hair when he switches sides.

Eventually, he releases your nipples with an audible pop to press kisses on the underside of your breast instead. His lips brush against your flesh and he slowly makes his way down, pausing to edge his wet tongue around your belly button in an unexpectedly naughty way that makes you squirm.

His hands abandon your chest in favor of your hips where his fingers slip under the sides of your cotton panties.

He glances up, lips just barely ghosting your skin as he murmurs, “can I take them off?” 

Your throat feels much too dry to produce any comprehensible sound so you simply nod. He wastes no time rolling the thin material down your thighs as you assist in eagerly kicking them off. You make a move to remove your last remaining clothing, your soft black thigh-high stockings, but Kenma quickly grabs your hands to stop you.

Confused, you look up to meet his eyes only to find his cheeks dusted pink as he avoids your gaze. 

“I…want you to keep them on.”

You can’t contain the giggles that bubble up at his admission, only increasing when he visibly pouts. Your amusement dies down as Kenma’s hands move to your shoulders, gently pushing. Obediently, you let your back fall onto the soft bed while Kenma settles directly between your spread thighs, hands supporting his weight on either side of your waist. 

You watch as he looks over you, golden eyes flitting across your body almost methodically as if he is assessing a challenging puzzle in a game. The comparison makes your body feel warm and you resist the urge to squirm under his stare. 

It is far from your first time—you shouldn’t be the nervous one here , you scold. 

At last, Kenma nods to himself, as if silently making a final decision before he lowers himself again. A pair of soft lips brush against the hood of your clit in a peck that has your muscles tensing and a mewl getting caught in your throat. Kenma presses a few more light, soft kisses around your vulva before he uses the thumbs of both hands to properly spread your lips open.

You’re almost embarrassed by how much wetness you can feel beginning to leak out but all thoughts are rendered obsolete the moment Kenma pushes his tongue into you, earnestly and without hesitation. His increase in confidence since the night he had “returned the favor” is clear in his every movement.

His tongue twists in ways he remembers you had particularly liked with the occasional new experimentation as well, alternating between firmly massaging your walls with the tip and thrusting in and out in a mimicry of what he intends to do with his cock later. 

Just the thought of his dick experiencing the heat currently engulfing his tongue has him groaning into you, making your own voice keen at the vibrations. 

He releases his tongue from inside of you to wrap his lips around your clit instead, sucking while the middle finger of his right hand pushes into you. The insertion has you nearly breathless as he manages to reach a place deep inside of you—much deeper than your own fingers could. As a former volleyball player and current gamer, it is no surprise that Kenma has long, dexterous fingers but to feel them in action leaves your heart pounding in your chest as you greedily rock your hips against him. 

He eventually adds his ring finger, the resistance minimal with how wet you have become. His other hand moves to grip your meaty thigh, fingertips just barely slipping beneath the fabric of your stockings. 

You can quickly feel your release building. Kenma seems set on having you cum on his fingers as quickly as possible as well, flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue while he pushes in a third finger, never once faltering in his pace. It is when he unexpectedly curls his fingers inside of you, hooking into a squishy spot that your vision blurs, and every muscle in your body tenses with your orgasm. 

Kenma diligently helps you ride it out, continuing to finger you and suckle at your clit until your legs draw up, attempting to push him off. Kindly, he pulls away.

You take a moment to collect yourself but it seems all for naught when you catch the way Kenma brings his sticky fingers, utterly drenched in your release, to his own mouth and licks them clean without a second thought. Despite the fact he had just eaten you out, something about watching him suck your essence off his own fingers feels decidedly filthy and leaves you more turned on than you were before your orgasm.

Kenma removes his fingers from his mouth once he deems them “clean” though they now shine with the remnants of his own saliva. He moves his hands to rest on your raised knees and carefully searches your face for any negative response. 

“Do you want to keep going?”

He asks softly but purposefully, fully prepared to stop if you suddenly aren’t up for it anymore. The consideration makes your chest swell and you grin. 

“Yeah,” you answer, sitting up slightly only to hook your fingers in the waistline of his track pants, “take these off.”

His cheeks flame but he obediently hooks his own thumbs into the pants and slides them down, carelessly kicking them off to some corner of the room.

Unsurprisingly, Kenma didn’t bother wearing underwear but you hardly mind and your mouth nearly waters at the sight of his pretty dick, bobbling slightly with his movements and dripping a copious amount of pre-cum, just like on that first night you sucked him off. 

He settles between your hips and you lay back on the pillows to form a textbook-perfect missionary position. One of his hands slides up your leg before finding a good place under your thigh to grab and hold your leg open while his other grabs his cock to position himself.

The first brush of his head against your sticky folds sends a shiver through both of you and his grip on you tightens almost painfully. 

“Can I...put it inside?”

“Yes, Kenma, please,” you respond breathlessly. 

You’re far too impatient to bother being embarrassed by your apparently eagerness though Kenma flusters at your plea. He lines himself up carefully before finally pressing forward. 

You gasp at the stretch, trying your best not to tense up as he slowly forces his way inside. You can hardly remember the last time you had someone inside of you—it must have been a while before you had even met Kenma.

Just as you had suspected that night you first saw him, his girth feels thicker than average and the stretch has your toes curling. He keeps pressing until he bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, and he has to physically pause to catch his breath as he adjusts to the brand-new sensation of being inside of someone.

His brain feels foggy and slow, like your pussy holds the power to make him go dumb. His length feels like it’s burning in your hot insides, soaked and massaged by your pulsating walls. 

He is positive this is one of the greatest experiences of his life.

It only gets better when you impatiently rock your hips against him, creating friction he didn’t realize he so desperately craved. You mewl needily, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and forcing him to press against you, sweaty chests smushed together.

Kenma steels himself, adjusting on hand to grip at your hip while the other supports his weight on the bed, trying not to lay his full weight on you. Torturously slowly, he pulls his hips back until his length nearly slips out only to sink back into the hilt. 

Your walls suck him harshly, threatening not to let him leave every time he partially withdraws and he’s pretty sure it's causing him to make some extremely embarrassing sounds he’ll regret later.

In contrast, you revel in the soft ‘ah’ s and sharp gasps he releases against your neck every time he thrusts inside of you. You experimentally clench around him just to hear the whine he makes in response, his hips involuntarily stuttering. 

“Ngh... feels good,” he whines into your ear. 

You moan your agreement, pressing soft kisses into his sweaty neck in encouragement. His speed steadily increases, your wetness producing a distinct squelch with each thrust. It is quickly devolving into something messy and imperfect but filled with love nonetheless. Every nerve in your body feels as if inflamed, burning you until you are no longer yourself but something new—something that is both you and Kenma. 

It is as your second orgasm is rapidly approaching and your limbs are seizing up, forcing Kenma to reach even deeper inside of you that you realize why it feels so different from the other times, why you felt so nervous before.

It’s the first time you’ve been fucked by someone you truly love. 

With a stammer of Kenma’s name, you cum. 

Your spasming walls prove too much for him and he follows quickly, thrusts losing all semblance of rhythm as he releases inside of you. You feel him deep inside, the head of his twitching cock near the entrance of your womb when he cums, filling you with warmth. Idly, you realize there’s a lot of it—likely the result of Kenma’s first time cumming inside of someone. It fills you to a brim, some of it escaping and sliding down his own spent length until it drips onto the sheets in a sticky mess. 

All strength seems to leave his body and Kenma fully collapses on top of you, head buried into your neck and chests sticking together like glue. The room is silent for several minutes aside from panting as the two of you catch your breaths. 

Kenma is surprisingly the first to speak. 

His voice sounds nervous, slightly hesitant and he refuses to make eye contact as he asks, “Was that okay?”

Every inch of his appearance screams insecure and the sight tugs at your heartstrings. You know he is worried he won’t compare to your previous boyfriends, feeling inadequate due to his own lack of experience. You quickly work to amend that. 

“It was great,” you answer honestly, offering a bright smile. 

“You’re amazing, Kenma.” 

The redness of his cheeks is almost comical but a wide smile stretches across his lips and when he meets your gaze his eyes seem to be nearly sparkling in happiness.

Your heart stutters in your chest. 

“I love you,” he whispers, voice full of adoration.

“I love you too,” you respond, curling into his side.

You nearly purr when his arms immediately snake around your waist, rolling you both onto your sides as he slips from your warmth. You’re overcome with a sense of calm, everything suddenly feeling right in the world if only for this single moment. You have never experienced this with any of your past partners; yet another piece of evidence to validate what you already know: Kenma is it for you. He’s the one. 

A thought comes to mind that has your features twisting into a sinister smirk. 

“Hey, KenKen...you really like my thigh highs, right?”

He stiffens beside you, instinctively knowing he’s in danger. 

“...I guess so,” he cautions, flinching when you coyly brush a clothed toe against one of his shins.

“Maybe for Christmas,” you continue, “I should get you a pair.”