#I'm truly fascinated by their sex life

[sukugo]

Do you think gojo makes those freaky ass feral expressions while getting dicked down?

YES YES YESSSSSSSSSSS RAAAAAAAAAHHHH THIS IS SOMETHIGN IM PASSIONATE ABOUT OKAY!!!!!!! YES HE DOES

like, pleasure looks such a specific way on satoru. we can see it in the tojigo fight, the hanami/jogo fight and the sukugo fight. they're the only moments where we truly get to see raw pleasure on him and it's that. eyes popping out and manic grin and laughter bubbling in his torso and body charged, and mannerisms especially crude.

there's something so animalistic about it, his "human" mask slipping from him and showing him in all his monstrous glory, unfiltered and raw and like the freak of nature he truly is

and it's exactly the same thing when it comes to sex. it's all pleasure after all.

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

THE RESIGNATION

Summary: You can quit. It doesn't mean Rafe will let you.

Paring: CEO!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Oral (w receiving) Masturbation (w), Rough Sex, PIV, Creampie, Fluff, Romance with a dash of Angst. AgedUp!Rafe. Not Proof-Read. Enjoy.

Word Count: 2k words

Author's Note: Something a little shorter, lighter and sweet. Happy reading and much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

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*Buzzzzzzzzz*

“Yes.”

“Y/N is here to see you.”

“Send her in.”

Rafe watches in fascination as you shuffle in, your face taut and serious. Your eyes cast downward, clutching a file. As you tuck an unruly strand of hair behind your ear, he realizes you're nervous. The tension, his silence, makes you even more anxious.

“Sit,” he instructs, motioning to the chair across his desk. Meanwhile, he keeps his gaze on his papers. He continues to read and leisurely sign forms. Yet, he can distinctly feel your eyes on him, both of you fully aware of the meeting's purpose.

For Rafe, the dynamics at play are exhilarating. After finishing his tasks, he lifts his eyes to find you focused on your file, seemingly avoiding his gaze.

He unbuttons his suit jacket and leans back, his fingers drum lightly on the fine-crafted letter in front of him. The paper carries a soft hint of perfume. It smells like you.

There's a part of him that wishes to be cruel, to use biting words he's often used with others in his employ. Yet something about you prevents him. The game of power was always in his favor, but with you, the boundaries become ambiguous, shifting in unexpected ways. With you, it's always been personal.

“Why didn't you tell me you were unhappy?” he asks. His tone is calm, yet probing. You seem taken aback, eyes widening as they search his face.

He decides to try another approach. “It's clear to me now,” he points to your letter of resignation. “You were unhappy at Cameron Enterprises. How long have you felt this way?”

Your surprise is palpable, and he watches you closely, enjoying the tapestry of emotions that flash across your face, each one more captivating than the last.

“Well?” he prods.

You shift, straightening your back. “I am grateful for my time at Cameron Enterprises. Truly I am. The team has been so kind to me, and I'll honestly cherish the friends I've made—”

“But?” he asks, cutting you off, eager to understand.

“But, I believe it's time for me to pursue other opportunities,” you admit, measuring your words. You slowly nod your head, as though you have thought this whole thing out, and now you are not only resolved with the thought but you truly believe it. It’s this sureness, this resolution, that truly makes Rafe react.

“I see,” Rafe says as he presses a button, making the office walls turn opaque. "So, you think you've outgrown us."

“No—”

"No?" he interrupts, rising from behind his desk and walking slowly toward you.

"No. I just- I feel it's time for me to try something... new.”

"Something new," he repeats, his gaze lowers to meet yours while you look up at him. His eyes scrutinize you carefully. “I respect that,” he nods, and as you avert your gaze, he gently hooks your chin with his fingers, prompting you to look him in the eye.

“No, really. I do. What's the point of life if not to grow, right? But let me be crystal clear: leaving here is not an option. So, here's what I'm willing to offer," his voice is as smooth as honey as his thumb strokes your jaw. "First, a five percent raise. But seeing as you’re already on one of the highest salaries here, I suspect that won't really sway you. You’ll also be given a new title.”

"Raf—"

"And to sweeten the deal," Rafe interrupts, "a vacation to any destination you want. You'll be whisked away on the company jet, stay at a five-star, luxury hotel—every need pampered and taken care of. I'll see to that, and we'll get to that, but here's the thing—" he whispers, his voice low and seductive.

"You embarrassed me today—ah, ah, I'm talking," he asserts, his eyes commanding yours into silence. "If it were anyone else, anyone else, no one would have noticed or given a flying fuck. But since it’s you, your little resignation created a lot of gossip. It made us look weak, hinted at instability, and in a Fortune 500 company, that's not going to work. Do you think the board cares about your need to ‘try something new'? Hm," his gaze is drawn to your mouth as you clamp it shut.

"So for those reasons, I'm going to punish you,”he says, while his thumb gently taps your chin. "But how to punish you...” he muses. “That’s the real question.”

Pulling away, he slides his hands into his pockets and, after taking a few steps back, leans against his desk.

"Rafe, you know I was just— I mean I wasn’t trying to—”

"Spare me, all right? I'm not interested in hearing what you have to say. Not right now. What I want..." he said slowly as he tapped a finger to his chest "What I want, is for you to open your legs, yeah? That's what I want."

You're shocked — he gathers as much from the way you gulp, and Rafe can't help but let a smirk of self-satisfaction curl his lips.

"Don't look so surprised. You knew what working for me entailed when you agreed to it. Now, spread your legs. Let me see what I'm shelling out nearly half a mil for."

"Rafe, I… I" you murmur.

Crossing his arms, his gaze locks onto yours signalling the end of the discussion. Hesitantly, and with much caution, you eventually slide your legs apart, your skirt riding up ever so slightly.

"Wider," Rafe commands, "Lean back and open them wider."

Breathing heavily, you do as he asks. Leaning back against the chair, you spread your legs open fully, causing your skirt to ride up to your waist, revealing your panty-covered sex. The damp patch, dark against the bright red fabric teases him.

"Pull your panties to the side. Let me see how wet you are.” he whispers silkily.

You turn your head away shyly but eventually you hook a finger into the fabric and pull it aside, exposing your slick wet folds to his ravenous gaze.

Rafe smiles in approval.

"That's good." he purrs, "Now, touch yourself. That pussy looks like it needs a good fingering " his voice rumbles with authority as his gaze flickers from your face to your exposed weeping slit. You hesitate, breathing heavily while trying to form a protest.

"I… I'm not—"

"Do it," he interrupts firmly.

You hesitate for a few moments, but eventually obey by pushing a finger into your dripping sex. A moan escapes your lips when Rafe lets out a deep groan as encouragement. Your hesitation seems to disappear and you push another finger in.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Add another. I know you can handle it."

You nod slowly and introduce a third, while the middle finger of your other hand gently rub your clit. Sinking into the sensation you open your legs wider for more access, your fingers moving hard and fast.

Rafe groans in protest. “Go slow...This isn’t for you. It’s about what I want, and what I want is for you to tease yourself. You're not allowed to cum. Not yet. Not until I say.”

You whimper but follow his command. You slow your speed til it's teasing almost leisurely and Rafe soaks it all in. The jolts of pleasure that have you mewling, the way your chest rises and fall, breathless, desperate. The way you curl your fingers just enough to make you gasp. It's incredible to watch and as your hips begin to buck against your massaging fingers, Rafe finds himself looming over you, taking in the sight of your ecstasy-filled face and finger-stuffed pussy.

He leans in and kisses you. His tongue lashes yours, tasting your moans and desperation. He pulls away, eyes back on your wet centre, focused on your fingers moving in and out, accompanied by the sweet wet sounds it makes and your hips rising from the chair.

"Go on, make that pussy cum." he orders. In no time, your orgasm washes over you. He can see it build from your core as you shudder and your thighs shake, your breath hitches fighting to stave it off and then it radiates out from the depths of your soul in a moan of pure ecstasy.

Before you can catch your breath, Rafe pushes your hand away and laps at your essence with his tongue. His hands on the back of your knees, push your legs right to your chest, keeping it wide open as he tongue fucks you.

Eating you out was always an appetizer he savored, making sure you had cum at least twice from his efforts, but right now, with his blood boiling with anger and frustration, he's famished and desperate for the main course.

Urgently, he undoes his slacks and lifts your legs even higher, pinning your ankles above your head with one hand. Without giving you time to adjust, he smears his cock with your slick and plunges deep into your tight heat, pressing you into the chair with his body weight as he begins to pound you.

It's a painful position, and he's acutely aware of that. It's deep and aggressively forceful, the type of position that should be approached with care, or ease you gently into it. But right now, it's not about you. Right now he's too riled up to care and so he fucks you without remorse or restraint, reducing you to nothing more than a fuck toy- his fuck toy spurred on by the delicious moans that escape your parted lips.

Your hands cling to the armrests for dear life as you desperately try to maintain your balance. Rafe continues to slam his hips against the back of your thighs, taking pleasure in your inability to move while he plows you deep. You whimper, desperate to escape his grip, but it does nothing to deter him. Instead, he revels in your struggle, knowing that your lack of control will only intensify his orgasm and your own.

"You want to quit..." Rafe sneers. He watches you whimper and feels your pussy tighten like a vice, while simultaneously soaking the front of his slacks. It makes him feral and he redoubles his efforts, fucking you into the chair until it starts to scrape against the cherry-oak floor.

"You want to quit on me?" he strains, while he observes ecstasy wash over your face, your eyes roll back in a pleasure-filled awe. With one hand, he gently taps your cheek to keep you focused.

"You wanna quit on me? Huh?” And he leans in further, his cock repeatedly hits a spot so deep you’re shaking, babbling and barely coherent.

“You're not going anywhere. Not now, not ever," he grunts, "Now fucking cum. Fucking cum.” His ruthless demand pushes you higher until all inhibitions are obliterated. You scream out in surrender, bucking up onto his plundering cock while Rafe releases a guttural moan, filling you with ribbon after ribbon of thick cum.

Several minutes have passed when his movements gradually stops, signaling the ebbing of his energy. He's exhausted, his fervor having reached its climatic end. He pulls out, his balance wavering slightly until his back meets the glass desk behind him. A contented exhale escapes his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

There you are, looking thoroughly fucked out. Your legs are splayed open, a sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, reflecting the aftermath of passion. His cum slowly leaks out of you and you wear it like a carnal badge of honor. Observing your state, he’s acutely aware that his own appearance mirrors yours—fucked out and messy. His clothes is in disarray, his cock is hanging out and physical exhaustion makes his body seek support against the table.

Despite the disheveled scene, a wave of affection swells within him, washing over any remnants of his earlier anger. His chest heaves as he gulps in air, attempting to control his breathing.

"You're lucky I love you," he manages to say, each word punctuated by his effort to recover. His gaze locks onto yours, intense yet softened by the rush of emotions. "No one else has this infuriating, intoxicating effect on me. You drive me to the brink and back," he adds, a playful seriousness lacing his tone as he licks his lips. "For that little stunt, I should fire you," he teases.

Your fingers glide through the cum dripping from your sex, and Rafe can't suppress a sense of pride. He always takes pride in the chaos he creates, especially when you revel in it.

"I've been trying to talk to you, but you've been so distracted lately, you haven't been listening" you sigh, as you try to catch your breath. "What else was I supposed to do to get your attention? Hand me some tissues, will you?"

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he digests your words, then reaches with a trembling hand for the tissue box on his desk. "When? When did you try to talk to me and I wasn't listening?" he asks. He takes a clump of tissues and hands them to you.

"This morning at breakfast, and last night during dinner. I barely started speaking before you turned the conversation back to contractors and deadlines and even when I gave you a solution, not just one Rafe but two- two concrete solutions you ignored me. It was like I wasn't even there. It's not the first time." you explain, accepting the tissues from him.

"I didn't realize—"

"You did," you interrupt, ensuring your eyes stay fixed on his to underline your statement. "Why do you think I kept singing the song about wanting to make some changes, wanting to try something new. I've been saying it for weeks on and off because this is clearly not working."

“I thought you were talking about remodeling the offices, not resigning from the company. It's a family business—how would it look if my wife quits?" His voice carries a hint of concern, not just for the optics but for the unspoken bond that this business represents between the two of you.

A soft sigh escapes you as you lock eyes with him, a delicate blend of frustration and affection. "Rafe, I don't want to walk away from this," you admit "But I need more than just a title and a desk. I need to feel heard, to be part of this with you, not just in name because I'm married to a Cameron. I want to be a part of the decisions and changes we dare to dream up together."

Rafe's eyes hold yours, a moment of realization dawning upon him. "I see you," he says quietly, the weight of his oversight apparent in his tone. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening. Do you really want to leave? Is that what you truly want?"

His question, earnest and laced with vulnerability, hangs between you, but you shake your head gently. "No, I don't want to leave, Rafe. I just want... more. More involvement, more acknowledgment, and yes, maybe even a little more attention. But leaving? No. This place, with all its madness, is where I belong."

He exhales, the relief evident in the way his shoulders drop slightly, the rigid line of worry softening around his eyes. "Thank fuck for that," he says with a hushed intensity. "Because I can't imagine doing any of this without you. But let's agree on no more 'resignation stunts' in the future, yeah? It's bad press and only makes for bad business—besides, I doubt my heart can take it."

You nod, agreeing, a mischievous glint in your eye as if to say you’ll find another effective way to get right under his skin, because in the end you always do. “Fine. But for the record, I do have some ideas for my office too."

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and he pulled you into a messy, loving kiss. "We'll discuss it at home, Mrs. Cameron. For now, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"Speak for yourself. You're the one with your dick hanging out."

With a shared laugh and a sweaty kiss, you both begin the task of putting the office—and yourselves—back together, the line between professional and personal wonderfully blurred.

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A/N - See guys I can do sweet 😈 I tried to keep the reveal until the end shhhh 🤭 Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please reblog as it supports writers. Until next time ❤️

[calisources]

𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this memes are taken from different sources of literature, television and media about enemies to lovers trope and enemies and lovers trope with some angst thrown into the mix. Change pronouns, names and locations as you see fit.

Does it hurt? Loving someone who can’t love you back?

Break his crown, break his throne, rip his monarchy apart.

What are we doing?

You are capable of making my blood boil like no one else, and yet I feel a magnetic pull I cannot explain.

It’s not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand

Like whether you should kiss me or punch me.

Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.

You make me feel things that shouldn’t exist. 

Whatever this is, we should stop. I have been. . .compromised.

There’s a fine line between love and hate, and maybe we crossed it a long time ago.

I never thought I could detest someone so much, until the day I realized I was falling in love with you.

We may fight like enemies, but deep down, we both know that our hearts beat for each other.

You infuriate me, challenge me, drive me crazy, but damn it, at the end of the day, I can’t resist you.

It’s that tension that makes this so irresistible.

You’re like an addiction I can’t break free from, even if I wanted to.

You’re the thorn in my side, the fire in my veins, and I can’t help but crave your presence in my life.

Loving you feels like a dangerous game.

You infuriate me, yet you’re the only one who truly understands me.

You scare me to my core.

There’s no denying the fire that burns between us.

If any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies.

I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other.

Tell me you don’t feel this between us. Look at me and don’t look away while saying it.

You claim me your enemy and yet, let me crawl into your bed every night.

You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires.

Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you.

I did not asked for this. To be plagued by these feelings.

I tried to deny it for so long, but I don’t want to anymore.

Follow me around. Look at me as if you find me fascinating. Touch me, and say nice things to me. And then, you pull away as if you did nothing at all.

There’s no need for these games.

Well, you know that old saying, “Keep your friends close and make out with your enemies.

You read me wrong.  I wasn't trying to lead you on.

Is that all I am to you? A resource to be used in your scheme?

Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything more than you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time. But I just- I can't do it tonight, okay?

 You'll lay a man out for implying I'm a whore, but you keep calling me one to my face.

So, the only man that can have you is one who's already tried to kill you. That's logic.

It's like a little death. Several, in fact.

Oh Max, if you really hated Kyle you couldn't have slept with him.

So go on... kiss me... kill me... Do something.

I've often wondered what this moment would be like. Me... you tied up. 

Once this is over, we should really have angry sex.

Hate and love are not so very different things. Both are focused upon another. Both are intense. Both are passionate.

It just means you'd rather be with someone you hate... than be with me.

She's difficult and irritating, and she tries to hit me all the time.

We have a deal, what are you so afraid of?

Only I can hurt you this way. Only I can kiss you like this. 

You dragged me down and now I can’t quit you. 

This is the last time we do this.

Last night was also the last time. And yet, you keep coming back.

Better my mouth than my knife, right?

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

*clears throat.* Good evening, and thank you for your time. So the idea is along the lines of this. In this world, nothing is truly what it seems. Marcus finds himself in The Library of Alexandria (My HC is Marcus also likes to read to relax.) where our reader is a scholar from Greece. The two of them start to talk philosophy (Or anything you'd like to come up with.) and whatnot. Marcus is turned on by this, he values intelligence. They have sex and well, reader isn't who we think! Reader is actually the Greek Goddess, Chaos; and basically says something along the lines of "I think I'm going to stick around for a while, so in exchange for us doing this again; and worshiping me. I will do whatever I can to allow you to win your battles, even if it seems all is lost." (My apologies if this makes no sense!)

My God

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x Greek Godess!F!reader | WC : 4.1k | Proof read : YES | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN |

Summary: see ask above

Warnings: Exhibitionism , oral F, p in v, breeding kink, worshiping, marking (scratching), kinda sub Marcus

A/n: I'm very very proud of this fic i really like it

Life in Rome was never easy—a place where survival often meant aligning with power, brute force, or sheer luck. But Marcus was different. He never let the harsh realities of Roman life define him. Instead, he focused on the pursuits of the mind—education, knowledge, and the arts held a deeper allure for him than the roar of the Colosseum or the blood-soaked sands of the battlefield. It was this quality, among others, that drew you to him. You admired his intellect more than any gladiator's victory or war hero's tale.

You found yourself drawn to Marcus not just because of his intelligence, but because of the way he made you feel—respected, seen, and, dare you think it, understood. There was a quiet strength in him, a confidence that didn’t need to assert itself through violence or intimidation. He was different from the others, and you couldn’t help but feel that he saw something different in you too.

That evening in the Library of Alexandria, the air was thick with the scent of parchment and the faint aroma of the sea beyond the walls. The library was a sanctuary, a place where the chaos of the outside world faded away, leaving only the soft rustle of scrolls and the whispered voices of scholars deep in thought. You had been there for hours, lost in a text that demanded every ounce of your focus. But as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light through the high windows, you noticed something peculiar.

One by one, the other patrons began to leave, their departure almost synchronized, as if they were being summoned elsewhere. A soft murmur of voices drifted away, and soon, the library was nearly empty, save for you and a few lingering souls. You couldn’t help but whisper to yourself, “Aphrodite must have sent Cupid, because this feels like a sign.” The idea that the goddess of love might have a hand in this sudden solitude made your heart flutter.

And then, as if on cue, Marcus entered the room.

He moved with the same quiet grace that you had come to associate with him, his presence immediately commanding the space without a word. His eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on you, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You could feel your pulse quicken as he approached, his footsteps barely audible on the marble floor.

“Good evening,” he greeted you, his voice soft but warm, like a familiar melody.

“Good evening, Marcus,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips as you tried to keep your voice steady despite the nervous excitement thrumming through you.

He settled into a seat across from you, a scroll in hand, but it was clear his attention was more on you than the text. “I’ve been thinking about our last conversation,” he began, his tone casual but thoughtful. “About how philosophy shapes our understanding of the world. It’s fascinating, don’t you think?”

You nodded, eager to engage with him on a topic that was close to both of your hearts. “It is. The way ideas can influence how we see everything around us—it’s like unlocking a new way of thinking. I’ve always loved how philosophy challenges the status quo.”

Marcus’s smile deepened a glint of admiration in his eyes. “That’s what I appreciate about you,” he said, his voice lowering slightly. “You don’t just accept things as they are. You question them, you seek to understand them. It’s refreshing, especially in a world that so often values power over thought.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, the sincerity of his words making your heart skip a beat. “I’ve learned a lot from you, Marcus. You’ve opened my eyes to so many new ideas, and I’m grateful for that.”

He tilted his head, his expression softening. “And you’ve done the same for me. It’s rare to find someone who not only values knowledge but also understands its importance in shaping the world. You have a gift, and it’s something that should be nurtured.”

His words made your heart swell, a mix of pride and something deeper stirring within you. The way he spoke to you, with such respect and admiration—it was something you hadn’t experienced before. “You’ve always treated me with kindness, Marcus. More than anyone else,” you confessed, your voice soft but sincere.

“I’ve only ever treated you as you deserve,” Marcus replied, his tone firm but gentle. “You’re intelligent, capable, and deserving of every opportunity that any man would have. It’s a shame society doesn’t always see it that way, but that doesn’t mean we can’t change things, one step at a time.”

His words resonated with you, a reminder of why you had been drawn to him in the first place. He wasn’t just a man of knowledge—he was a man of principle, someone who believed in equality and justice. It was a rare quality in a world dominated by power and greed. “I wish more people thought like you,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

“Perhaps one day they will,” Marcus said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “But until then, we’ll keep learning, keep questioning, and maybe, just maybe, we can inspire others to do the same.”

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you at his words. “There’s a book I’ve been meaning to read,” you said, your voice a little lighter now, as if the conversation had shifted to something more personal. “It’s the sequel to the one I suggested to you last time we spoke. I’ve been eager to see how the ideas develop, how the story progresses.”

Marcus’s eyes lit up with interest. “Ah, yes, I remember. The way you described it made me curious. I’ve been looking forward to seeing where the author takes the arguments in the sequel.”

You nodded, excited to share this with him. “It’s on the top shelf,” you said, gesturing toward the tall bookcase that loomed over you. “I’ve been meaning to grab it, but…”

Marcus didn’t wait for you to finish. He was already moving toward the shelf, his long stride carrying him effortlessly across the room. “Allow me,” he said with a soft smile, reaching up to retrieve the book. As he stretched, his body leaned closer to yours, his presence warm and comforting.

Your breath caught as he handed the book to you, your fingers brushing his as you took it. The air between you felt charged as if something more than just a book exchange was happening. Marcus didn’t move away, didn’t break the connection. Instead, he leaned in closer, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the realization of how close you were, of how much you wanted this moment, making your thoughts spin. You had admired Marcus for so long, not just for his intelligence but for his kindness, his respect, the way he made you feel seen. There had been so many moments, so many little things that had led to this—his smile when he caught you lost in thought, the way he listened to you as if every word you said mattered, the quiet conversations you shared in the library when no one else was around.

And now, here you were, standing so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, his presence enveloping you like a gentle embrace. Your mind raced with memories, with all the times you had felt this pull toward him, this undeniable connection that you had tried to ignore but could no longer deny.

As Marcus leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, you knew this was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment you had imagined so many times but had never dared to hope would actually happen. His lips hovered just a breath away from yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

But there was none. You wanted this, wanted him, more than you had ever wanted anything. And as his lips finally met yours in a soft, tender kiss, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you—a mix of relief, joy, and something deeper, something that made your heart feel full and complete in a way you had never known before.

I owe Aphrodite big time, you thought, a fleeting smile curving your lips against his. Little did Marcus know, the goddess of love wasn’t the only divine force at play. Chaos, the very essence of unpredictability and passion, lurked beneath your skin, a secret you hadn’t even discovered yet. But that would come later—right now, all that mattered was the way Marcus was kissing you, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as you had.

The kiss deepened, turning feverish as months of unspoken tension finally spilled over. You clawed at each other’s clothing with an urgency that surprised you, your fingers trembling as you fumbled with the ties of his tunic. His hands were no gentler, grasping at the fabric of your dress, tugging it down your shoulders as his mouth moved hungrily over yours. The world around you seemed to blur, the lines between thought and sensation fading until there was nothing left but the press of his body against yours, the heat of his touch.

Marcus’s hands found your waist, and with a low growl of need, he pushed you back against the nearest bookshelf. The impact sent a few books toppling to the floor, their thuds barely registering in the haze of your shared desire. Neither of you cared about the mess, too consumed by the fire that had ignited between you. His lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made you gasp, your back arching instinctively into him.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he continued his assault on your senses. The scent of old parchment and sea air mingled with the heady musk of passion, creating a dizzying blend that only heightened the intensity of the moment. Your breaths came in short, ragged bursts, the sound filling the otherwise silent library.

Marcus’s hands roamed your body with a desperation that matched your own, his fingers brushing over every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His touch sent sparks of electricity dancing along your nerves, each caress stoking the fire that burned between you. And when he finally claimed your lips again, the kiss was no longer tender but fierce, demanding, as if he needed you as much as you needed him.

You could give a fuck about who might see you, or what they might think. The world beyond these walls ceased to exist the moment you started unraveling under Marcus's touch. His tunic was already halfway off, hanging loosely around his shoulders, but you were far beyond caring. Your own dress was falling away, your breasts now on full display for him, and the hunger in his eyes made you feel like the most powerful woman alive.

Marcus’s lips traveled down your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He continued his descent, kissing down to your stomach, his breath warm and teasing against your skin. His hands were already at your waist, gathering the fabric of your dress into a bundle. He paused only to give you a slick grin before ducking his head beneath the fabric. The anticipation alone was enough to make your knees weak.

Then you felt it—the hot, intoxicating breath of his mouth, so close to where you needed him most. Your breath hitched as his lips found your clit with a precision that made you moan in surprise. You had to commend him for finding it so easily, his tongue darting out to taste you. His hands moved slowly, deliberately up your thighs, as if savoring every inch of you.

With a sudden motion, Marcus shifted your hips, lifting your legs to rest them over his broad, bare shoulders. The position left you completely exposed to him, vulnerable and aching for more. His mouth worked against your sensitive clit, licking and sucking with a skill that had you gripping the shelf behind you for support. The pleasure was overwhelming, making you a moaning mess as more books tumbled from the shelves, though neither of you cared.

His tongue was relentless, teasing you mercilessly. He started by focusing on your clit, making you shiver with each flick, but soon his motions became wider, exploring more of you. Before long, he was licking up and down the entirety of your pussy, his movements growing bolder, more insistent. You could feel him getting closer to where you needed him, his tongue dipping into you, desperate to go deeper.

The fever of his actions made you grind against his face, your orgasm building fast and hard. "Good gods above, Marcus," you gasped, your voice trembling with the intensity of your pleasure. He hadn't taken a breath, his mouth still worshiping your pussy as if he could die right there and be satisfied. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, but Marcus kept his hands on your knees, holding you open as he moved faster, his tongue diving in and out of you with a frenzy that had you seeing stars.

When your orgasm hit, it was like a wave crashing over you. You could feel it building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped, sending you over the edge. You rode his face, every muscle in your body tightening as the pleasure ripped through you. Marcus didn’t let up, his mouth sloppily lapping up your juices as your body trembled, struggling to stay quiet as your arousal overwhelmed you. He knew it, and the wicked gleam in his eyes told you he wasn’t making it any easier.

Finally, he emerged from beneath the fabric of your dress, pulling it down roughly, leaving you naked before him. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, and you could see the glistening of your juices on his lips, chin, and cheeks. The sight of him, his rugged face wet with your arousal, only made you want him more. Without a word, you grabbed the fabric still hanging around his waist and yanked him in for a kiss, loving the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Your hands roamed his body, guiding him backward until you found a random chair in the room. With a firm push, you made him sit, his muscles tensing under your touch. At first, he leaned back, expecting you to straddle him, but you had other plans. Instead, you knelt before him, your hands moving to lift the fabric at his waist before pulling it down. He lifted his hips to help you, but when his hand reached for your breast, you pulled away, fixing him with a smirk.

“Let’s get this straight…” you murmured, straddling his lap but keeping your hips closer to his knees than to his cock. You began to palm him, feeling the heat and hardness of him beneath your fingers. He let out a low groan, his eyes darkening with lust. “You may be the one with the dick…” you leaned down, spitting on his cock, watching it glisten in the low light. “But I’m the one in power.”

You didn’t give him time to respond, your hand guiding his cock to the wetness between your legs. You ran the tip of his cock down your pussy lips, teasing him, teasing yourself, before slowly lowering yourself onto him. The stretch was glorious, filling you up in a way that made your breath catch. “This dick…” you moaned as you took him deeper, your body trembling with the effort to take all of him. “Is for me… only me.”

You began to grind your hips, feeling him press deeper inside you with each movement. His hands were on you again, roaming your body, before one found your breast. He brought his mouth to your nipple, sucking it softly, and you arched your back, pressing yourself against him. The pleasure was intense, his mouth hot and wet against your sensitive skin, his other hand steadying you as you rode him.

“My true god,” Marcus murmured against your skin, his voice thick with reverence. The words sent a thrill through you, knowing how true they were, even if he didn’t. You were Chaos, the embodiment of primal power, and he worshiped you without even knowing it.

You pushed his chest back, starting to build momentum, bouncing onto him with increasing speed. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your breasts, your body moving in time with his. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, before they drifted higher, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts. “So beautiful,” he whispered, more to himself than to you, his voice full of awe.

Your body was beginning to tire, the exertion of riding him making your muscles burn, but you didn’t care. “Marcus…” you moaned, catching his full attention. “Fuck into me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Repositioning himself, he began to thrust up into you, meeting your hips as they bounced. The movement was rough, desperate, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts. You clawed at his chest, your nails leaving red marks as you leaned over him, your eyes locked with his.

You could tell he was holding something back, the tension in his body, the way his jaw clenched. “Are you going to cum?” you asked, your voice breathy and full of need. He nodded, his breath coming in ragged pants.

“Cum…” you lifted your body slightly, before slamming down onto him again. “Cum with me, Marcus.” You bounced faster, matching his pace, feeling him hit that perfect spot deep inside you with every thrust. “Marcus, I need you to make me cum.”

His hands tightened on your hips, holding you steady as he pounded into you, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your orgasm building again, higher and higher. His cock was hitting all the right places, sending shocks of pleasure through you, until you were on the edge, ready to fall.

With a cry, you brought your hand to your clit, rubbing it in fast, tight circles as you rode out your orgasm. The pleasure was almost too much, your body convulsing, trembling as you came, the feeling overwhelming. You heard Marcus groan deeply, his own orgasm hitting him as your walls clenched around his cock. You felt the warmth of his cum flood into you, filling you to the brim, the sensation making you shudder with aftershocks of pleasure.

He kept thrusting, riding out his orgasm with you, until finally, he stilled, his hands loosening on your hips. You were both panting, your bodies slick with sweat and trembling from the intensity of what you had just shared. Without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, breathing in his scent, grounding yourself in the warmth of his body.

Marcus’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as if afraid you might disappear. His breath was still heavy, his chest rising and falling against yours as you both came down from the intense high of your shared pleasure. For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply exist in that space, feeling his warmth, his steady heartbeat against your own. But the weight of your true identity, the secret you had been holding back, pressed at the edges of your mind, refusing to be ignored.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes were half-lidded, softened by the afterglow, and when he caught your gaze, a small, contented smile curved his lips. He looked at you like a man who had found something precious, something worth holding on to. The thought made your heart ache with a strange mixture of guilt and affection.

“If you continue to worship me like this, Marcus,” you whispered, your voice still tinged with the breathlessness of your climax, “you will have many great wins in the future.”

He chuckled softly, a light laugh that vibrated through his chest. “Worship you?” he teased, his tone playful as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “I think you have that the other way around. I’m the one who’s been utterly undone by you.”

You smiled at his words, but there was something deeper in your eyes, something ancient and powerful that flickered beneath the surface. “Oh, Marcus,” you murmured, brushing a hand through his hair, “you don’t even know the half of it.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone turning more serious as he searched your eyes for answers.

You pulled back a little, just enough to look at him fully. The room seemed to grow still around you, the air thick with an unspoken tension. For a moment, you considered holding back, keeping your secret buried for a little longer. But then you remembered who you were, what you were, and the time for hiding was over.

“I’m not just a girl from Greece,” you began slowly, watching his expression carefully as the words left your lips. “I’m not just a student, studying philosophy and the stars.”

Marcus’s confusion deepened, his grip on you tightening slightly as if trying to anchor himself in this sudden shift in the atmosphere. “What are you saying?” he asked, his voice a whisper now, tinged with the first hints of unease.

You took a deep breath, feeling the power within you surge, the ancient energy of Chaos that had been dormant for so long. The room seemed to darken around you, shadows stretching and shifting as if responding to the force of your true nature. “I’m from Olympus, Marcus,” you said, your voice steady, resonating with a power that was impossible to ignore. “I am not just a mortal woman. I am Chaos, the primordial force that existed before all things. The void from which the universe was born.”

The color drained from Marcus’s face, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief. He pulled back, but not out of fear. His hands trembled slightly as they remained on your hips as if he couldn’t quite reconcile the woman he had just been inside with the god you claimed to be. “Chaos?” he repeated, the word almost foreign on his tongue. “You… you’re a goddess?”

You nodded slowly, the truth of your identity settling in the air between you. “I am,” you confirmed, your tone gentle, trying to ease him into this new reality. “I have walked this earth in many forms, but this—this is the form I chose to meet you, Marcus.”

He stared at you, his mind racing to catch up with the revelation. The weight of your words, of what they meant, seemed to press down on him, and for a moment, he looked lost. “But… why? Why me?” he finally managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached out, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Because you are more than just a man, Marcus. You have a strength in you, a light that draws even the gods. And in you, I saw something… someone worth revealing myself to.”

His breath caught, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deceit, but all he found was truth. “This is why you’re so different,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Why I’ve been so drawn to you…”

You nodded again, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yes. And if you continue to worship me as you have, if you continue to show me the devotion you’ve shown tonight, I will see to it that you have many victories, Marcus. In battle, in life… and in love.”

He was silent for a long moment, absorbing your words, the enormity of what you were offering. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with a reverence that hadn’t been there before. “I don’t know what to say… What can a mortal offer a goddess like you?”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, tender and sweet, before pulling back to look him in the eyes. “Just be you, Marcus. Be the man I’ve come to admire. That’s all I ask.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you close once more. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he murmured against your hair, “but I’ll do everything I can to prove myself worthy of you.”

You smiled, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the coldness of your true nature, if only for a moment. “You already have,” you whispered, allowing yourself to sink into the comfort of his arms. For now, you were content to let him hold you, mortal and god, two beings intertwined in a world that suddenly seemed much smaller.

[meanbossart]

Okay, one more question on the Bhaalist Drow au, if you'll indulge. What happens in Astarion's mindthe immediate aftermath of the ascension failing (as in, right then but also up until the game's end). Do they bother showing up to Withers' party? How does Astarion go slip sliding down into a cowed version of himself over time? And, what I am most fascinated by in something like this, how do the other cultists, especially direct reporters to DU Drow, or like deputies, treat him? Does Astarion find he's confined certain places?

Sorry, thank you!

No apologies needed! This is a very fun scenario to play around in.

So, I'm not sure if Astarion would immediately realize that DU drow purposefully ruined the ritual, but regardless he would have realized that this is the outcome he truly wanted.

I imagine that after Du drow embraced Bhaal, Astarion would have gotten it into his head that he now must ascend so they will be on leveled ground, and fully capable of pursuing their plans of taking control over the sword coast together as equally powerful individuals. DU drow would have sold himself as completely behind this plan and supportive of the idea, eager for them to exert total control as the most dashingly evil couple in all of Faerun. And perhaps this was genuine for a day, before the fear of losing his grasp over Astarion began to settle in. He didn't voice this as all, of course, but as an avid manipulator himself Astarion would be able to tell post-failure that his support wasn't earnest.

And I think Astarion just panicked; going back and forth between convincing himself that he should be thankful to have someone powerful by his side, and just feeling like has no other option but to go along with it. Whether or not he thinks he can abandon DU drow successfully, the world has just become a much scarier place than before, and at least here he knows he has someone to take care of him - someone he should be fond of, even if time eventually proves him wrong.

For a while (weeks, if not months) Astarion would have appeared nothing if not pleased with his predicament. He has a man who is head-over-heels for him who also happens to be the head-honcho of a powerful cult, he has access to as much blood and violence as he pleases and the ability to entertain his fantasies of power and cruelty to their fullest. If there is anyone left who cares for him, he paints elaborate pictures of their routine together - of their outings, of their riches, of his exquisite quarters and their intense sex. He tells them that DU drow might be Bhaal's chosen, but he has him wrapped tight around his finger day and night and pretty much runs the show behind the scenes.

These are fantasies that he wants to others to believe in as much as he wants to convince himself of them, and a narrative that DU drow might even humor - he likes the illusion of Astarion being in control, but it can't ever be like that in practice - but reality is a lot more hollow. They have gold, and they have the expensive garments, and the sex is intense, but life has become a performance from morning until night and Astarion has completely lost the element of tenderness that he had grown to enjoy. DU drow loves him like a prized possession, like a novelty - a fragile ornament that only he knows how to handle, and no one else is allowed near.

Whenever there is push back, whenever Astarion wants to branch out, he is reminded of how vulnerable and small he is. How every day occurrences and objects can harm him, and that while DU drow may appreciate him for the man he is, others will take him for a simple monster. That It is much easier to stick by his side, sacrifice some of his freedom but be cared for than to risk exposing himself to harm. DU drow also constantly reminds him of the pain he would be in if anything were to ever draw them apart, and guilts him about what may happen if he was to die.

And as rebellious towards Cazador as he might have been, total servitude is a default he learned to fall back into in search of safety. It is easier to turn to old habits and simply accept his circumstances, surrender to them. At least here, he is never tortured, he is never physically hurt, and he is only sometimes verbally berated. He can deal with it as long as it is an improvement upon his previous situation. Slowly, he'd just become DU drow's yes-man, he'd concern himself constantly with pleasing him, looking desirable, acting desirable, fulfilling his fantasies and acting the part that's expected of him. From the outside it may even seen like he enjoys the life.

He is basically seen but not heard by DU drow's consorts. It's less about the respect that they may or may not have for him and more about the respect (or should I say fear) that they have for their leader. DU Drow would make it clear again and again that no one is allowed to touch him, he would be weary of anybody trying get too close, of being too friendly, even of staring a little too hard - he would kill and torture men over the most mundane of comments whether they be positive or negative until everyone is just too fearful of interacting with Astarion at all. As for people outside of the temple, he basically never has a chance to mingle without DU drow's watchful gaze over him (all for the sake of protecting him, of course).

I think Sceleritas would be the only person who can consistently interact with alone, since DU drow trusts him completely. The little goblin himself no longer sees Astarion as so much of a person, more so a possession; one that keeps his master happy and productive. So he extends the same amount of respect to him as he does to DU drow himself, and functions as a butler to both.

He also reports back to DU drow about Astarion's every request, every diversion from habit, every misplaced sigh and fluctuation in mood, every eye-roll. He knows the questions to ask to get the answers he wants, to interrogate him with poise on behalf of his master so he can make sure that his beau is always happy and content. Astarion realizes this learns to watch himself around Sceleritas over time too.

[mswyrr]

They spent the entire season showing the collapse of everything Alicent had invested meaning in and earning her final choice.

Things that came apart over the season:

-her father's role in all this; his approval (and fear of his disapproval) has driven her for her entire life! (bad move on multiple fronts, Aegon)

-her belief that she could do what this patriarchy promises and "influence" her sons toward a good direction (Aegon dismisses her but Aemond really drove the nail in with flagrantly slaughtering smallfolk and making his intent to force his sister to do it too clear)

-her belief that she had any allies and her skills in leadership and her track record of hard work actually meant anything to *anyone* (this was a cooperative effort by Aemond, Larys, and Criston - good work, fellas!)

-her belief that she could, if nothing else, at least protect her daughter (huge emotional pillar for her)

And if we look at her prior actions putting Aegon on the throne and protecting him with her life - both fit within those structures she had mentally and emotionally which this season ripped down.

I think the final one was the thing that took it over the edge, though -- the prospect of Helaena being used and hurt and destroyed as a person -- kind of like how degrading Aemond and his connection to his long-term sex worker was his final straw that made him want to kill and supplant his brother Aegon.

People keep pushing each other too far this season. Taking out the last thing that stands between them and a radical change. Pushing people until they're willing to lose things just to break the current dynamic.

Dae/mon pushes Rhaenyra too far, then the entire war does and she "breaks bad" in 2x07 (see my meta linked below for more on my pov on that); Aegon pushes Aemond too far; and the entire group of "green men" systematically pushes Alicent too far.

All the while, she had that offer from earlier in the season, when Rhaenyra risked everything to come speak to Alicent in her mind. She was mulling over it and thinking of what she could have said, should have said. At the same time, however, Rhaenyra was moving away from being that person [my meta argument on that here]. So the person she finally comes to make peace with isn't the same as she was in the Sept. And once again they tragically can't get on the same page. It does all fit together, even with issues in the writing.

And writing on Alicent's arc simply isn't as uneven as people are saying - the theme of people pushing each other too far and how they showed the pillars of Alicent's support crumbling were both clearly done.

And, yes - Alicent still has feelings for Rhaenyra and as all of this has been happening she's been having a midlife crisis and wishing she had just run away with her first love when they were girls. But that isn't her sole motivation!! It's just what comes spilling out of her because of the state she's in. It creates an appealing alternative to the hell she's living in at the Red Keep. But it wasn't THE single motivating factor.

On a show where fathers have behaved truly monstrously--up to and including their selfishness setting this civil war in motion to begin with--it's fascinating that people refuse to believe a mother can be pushed too far. That kinslaying and slaughtering whole cities and rejecting and humiliating her and threatening to mentally torture her daughter until she breaks wouldn't change her mind about her priorities.

The "green" side becomes owned by Aemond, a wilful (as far as she knows; I'm speaking of her pov here) kinslayer moral reprobate who is violent to his sister and wants to force her to do things that will break her mind. Alicent cannot expect that Aegon will be able to stop him. That's what the side is now, as far as she knows. And she thinks he's a monster who must be stopped, at any cost. That's why she told Rhaenyra "we both know what he is" about Aemond in the Sept. WHAT not who. Things like kinslaying and slaughtering smallfolk mean something to her. And her daughter is everything to her.

Team Green overall took her for granted and thought she'd always be their doormat, and Helaena too. And Alicent finally had enough. Again, given how monstrously the fathers on this show behave, I think they "showed their work" on her radical change of heart well. It's just some people believe nothing can ever justify a mother betraying her sons and I think that makes total sense, given everything.

Honestly, once Helaena was on the chopping block, it would have been out of character for Alicent *not* to do everything--destroy anything--to protect her daughter. She feels like protecting Helaena is the only good thing she's ever done in her life.

People can dislike the ending. It's always valid to dislike something in a story, it's fine. But disliking it doesn't mean it wasn't built up solidly, narratively speaking. The writers put a lot of work and narrative space into it, actually--this was one of the most developed parts of s2!--and weaving it into the season's larger theme of characters pushing each other to the breaking point.

[1d1195]

Sun-Kissed I

Here is a fluffy/smutty little piece of love on the beach. It’s ~9k words. It’s a love at first sight kind of thing I know it’s kind of ridiculous for them to be falling in love so fast but it’s my story and I’m sticking with it. Also, sorry that I’m really into sunflowers right now. Sunflower Vol. 6 has been on my mind lately so that’s gonna make an appearance for the third time as of late. I don’t know if anyone else cares about all my little easter eggs regarding real life Harry in my writing but I’m really pretty proud of the news one I put in here. I'm sorry they're both teachers again I needed them to have summer's off to make this work. Their careers are not a major part of the story.

Warnings: There’s some pretty 18+ things happening here. Masturbating, public sex (kinda), thigh riding, etc. If you’re not into this, I wouldn’t read it. It's all fluff otherwise. There won't be a bit of angst.

I've been trying to write this for over a year and finally came pouring out. Unfortunately, there will be a second part next Thursday only because I thought it was getting too long. So it does end a little abruptly. Hope you enjoy anyway :)

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

Harry didn’t grow up near a beach so he thought this would be great way to cash in on his vacation time over the summer. Sitting at the beach, reading a book, and dipping his toes in the water when it got too hot. His mum knew someone who knew someone who gave him a great deal on the summer rental, and he was beyond excited to sit and relax for the first time in years.

Being an earlier riser had its advantages. For one, he got the pick of where to set up his summer getaway on the beach. He brought a cooler, a chair, and a few towels along with a book or two to spend the day. Through his sunglasses, he faced the direction of the sunshine. He hadn’t had a proper summer holiday since he was young and now that he was busy teaching and had summer’s off, he was elated to have some time to himself.

Once he settled his belongings, he turned on a summer playlist he’d been working on for a while. He didn’t turn it up loud—he would never want to bother anyone that may join him on the beach—but it was loud enough to hear and not interrupt his imagination while reading.

It was utterly peaceful.

Apparently, Harry was unaware of just how truly peaceful the beach could be.

“Hey,” a voice said softly, it was sweet. A gentle shake on the arm, her skin was cool to the touch. His eyes blinked open unsurely. He realized he fell asleep and didn’t even get through the first page of his book. “Hi,” she whispered with a gentle smile. “You’re going to start burning,” she explained handing over a bottle of sunscreen to his hands while Harry tried to wake himself up. “And your book is in the sand,” she said grabbing it before the spine broke from all the grains of the beach ruining the binding.

“Oh,” he shook his head desperate for his brain to catch up to his surroundings. “Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“No problem!” She chirped heading back to the chair that was a few meters in front of him. “I already burned once this summer and it was miserable. Just don’t want you to suffer the same fate.”

He pushed open the bottle and started rubbing on the sunscreen. It felt like he was going to have a slight burn already. The relief of the lotion on his skin made him wary. “Ah, guess...I should probably leave,” he chuckled. “Try again tomorrow.”

“Oh...if you want to stay, I have an umbrella,” she said cheerfully. “S’a nice day, just give me a minute to set up,” she smiled and gave her name to Harry.

Harry had hardly gotten a good look at her with a sleepy set of eyes a bit wiped by the sun. His brain was foggy with the impromptu nap. This small little town he was staying in had the vibe that someone like her would help a stranger. Everyone had been so nice in the grocery store and when Harry went for his run yesterday, people said hello and commented on how nice the evening was. It was an adorable little town and Harry was already dreading having to leave in two weeks’ time.

“Well, thank you. M’Harry,” he said quietly while he finished rubbing the lotion over his body. He watched her work, his mind less foggy. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was a little over two hours since he arrived. It wasn’t too hot outside still, so his burn would be minor if he got one at all. With the addition of a blanket and the umbrella, it was almost a mirror image of Harry’s little set up. A chair, a cooler, and a couple towels.

She had a ponytail pulled through a baseball cap and she wore a button down, rolled to the elbows. The top few buttons were open revealing a deep blue bathing suit top, that scooped low enough to show off...

Harry had to be careful, or he was going to be sporting a prominent erection on a beach with a ton of families. He moved his gaze down past where he really wanted to look. The shirt came down to just above her knee and he saw a pair of flip flops discarded to the side of the blanket she had laid out in front of her stuff. “Nice day, huh?” She smiled as she twirled the umbrella stand into the sand.

“Tits—it’s really nice,” Harry said quickly stammering through his recovery.

Smooth.

She either didn’t notice his faux pas or didn’t care because she continued about her business. “Have you been here long?” She asked.

“Just arrived yesterday. Did some grocery shopping. Went for a jog.”

“Oh, how nice,” she had this infectious smile. Harry felt so happy just being around her. Or maybe it was the beautiful weather and the prettiest beach he had seen in years.

Or maybe it was her curvy figure that was making him lightheaded with happiness.

She pulled the shirt off finally, and Harry thought he might seriously need to leave. Head back for his little beach cottage to take care of blood rushing to his groin. She’s gorgeous. He thought to himself. “How ‘bout you?” He cleared his throat.

“I grew up here...and live here in the summer.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Here?” He asked.

She smiled and nodded. “It’s my favorite place on earth,” she explained.

“I can see why,” he nodded in appreciation. “Do you have any suggestions for while m’here?”

She nodded. “Plenty—how long are you here for?”

“Two weeks.”

“How lovely...let’s see...you’re at the beach—that’s most important in my opinion. I think if you stay here most of the time, you’ll have a successful vacation. There’s a place about twenty minutes from here where you can go clam digging if you like clams—I don’t really like them, but it’s fun to go. Paddleboarding on the river is also a really big thing. There’s this restaurant that everyone talks about. If you want, I know someone who works there, I could get you in. You’ll need a sweatshirt from the most touristy of tourist shops, but don’t go on a rainy day—everyone will be there. You’ll have to see the sunrise and the sunset. I think there’s a full moon too, so you’ll definitely want to see that over the ocean. I personally recommend ice cream and mini golf too. If you have time, you should also check out the nearby island. Even though this place is beautiful the island is like being in another country. It’s stunningly beautiful,” throughout her speech she continued working on the umbrella stand, putting the actual umbrella into place and tilting it back to create more shade.

Harry thought it would be really forward of him to invite her on all those adventures. Especially when someone as beautiful as she was surely had a significant other. Add in the fact he met her less than ten minutes ago; he would have seemed insane. “Wow, sounds like a packed schedule.”

She laughed and Harry swore he had never heard a sound as beautiful. She was still organizing her items and she gestured under the umbrella for Harry to move his stuff. “I’m really passionate about this place I forget people want to relax.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “You’re right t’be passionate. M’sure you’re right; I’ll make every effort t’do it all,” he promised and began moving his stuff below her umbrella. “Everyone is so nice here,” he told her. “Yourself included.”

“Why thank you,” she smiled sweetly and settled into her beach chair finally, facing the sun. He swore that someone this stunning couldn’t be real. She looked like a beach goddess—sun-kissed hair and skin. “What are you reading?” She asked, turning her head toward him covering the side of her face to keep the sun out of her eyes even though she wore sunglasses too.

He couldn’t even remember why he picked the book up. “Er...I fell asleep before finishing the first page,” he admitted shyly. She giggled.

“The beach does that, I swear. Something about total relaxation and the warm sun. I’m like a cat. Once I lay on my stomach, I’m out like a light.”

“Do you read?”

She nodded. “Have to; I’m a middle school teacher.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled. “I teach secondary.”

“No way!”

So, for the whole morning, Harry forgot about his book. Forgot about his playlist that was still going—except for anytime she asked what song was playing. They talked for literally three hours straight never once a lull in the conversation. Work, books, the beach, music, and anything they thought of. He told her about his family coming to visit for the weekend and she told him about her family who didn’t love this place as much as she did who would probably not visit—even if they missed her and loved her with everything in them.

At lunch they finally quieted their conversation to eat and watch the water. “I don’t see a burn,” she told him glancing over his face and skin as she finished her sandwich. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I’d be a proper crisp by now.”

She held the sunscreen out to him again. “I know this is a little weird, would you mind getting my upper back?” She asked.

Touch her? Harry didn’t have to be asked twice. Harry made sure to spray every bit of her skin. He didn’t want to be the reason she burned. As soft and beautiful as her skin was, Harry was glad she only asked to rub her back and shoulders. If he had to do her legs or any other part of her body, he definitely would have passed out.

She spread herself out on her blanket. Book near her face. “I’m so going to fall asleep,” she yawned. “Will you wake me if I start to burn?” She asked.

Harry nodded wordlessly and brought his book up toward his face. “Sure, love,” he murmured. Hopefully not showing how smitten he was with her already.

*

Harry might have wormed his way into her heart as her favorite person ever. It was so unlike her to wake a total stranger from a nap. But he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. She couldn’t imagine letting him roast in the sun all morning and ruining his vacation. It was even more unlike her to invite him to sit with her.

She liked to believe she was a kind soul—most everyone told her that she was, so it wasn’t unnatural for her to invite him to hang out with her. But if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry was a teacher, it could have been a lot more dicey.

It was so easy to talk to Harry. The entire morning was so much better than she ever expected just by being in his presence or chatting with him. Other than her reading-nap—where Harry woke her up after an hour so she could reapply another layer of sunscreen—they talked literally the whole day. Harry didn’t mind putting sunscreen on her and she returned the favor when they switched positions so Harry could get some on his back.

Touching him might be her new favorite pastime.

She left a bit before Harry wanting to go for a walk and shower before eating dinner and reading a bit on her porch. Plus, she had to pace herself if she was going to last at the beach all summer. After her shower, she put on an oversized shirt like she wore to the beach and a pair of shorts. It looked like she wasn’t wearing pants but didn’t mind. The sun finally crested the top of her cottage, so she was no longer baking in the sun and made the porch the loveliest little place to read and enjoy the evening. She had a bowl of watermelon chunks beside her, and sunglasses perched on her nose.

Growing up she never loved summer all that much. Of course, she loved the beach and the time off from school, but she started working part time when she was fourteen and summer never had the same feeling as it did when she was young until she started teaching. Now she would tutor virtually some nights throughout the summer—especially for college students taking summer courses. But mostly she spent her time here in the little beach cottage her grandma had specifically named to her in her will after she saw how much she cared for it—especially since she was the only one in her family who had summers off and still cared about this little town. Once her grandma passed away, no one really felt the need to stay—her parents sold the home she grew up in. It wasn’t brokenly tragic that her grandma died—she was old, and these things happened. Besides, she felt by being in the little town she grew up in and living in the cottage left to her was enough to live her summers in honor of her grandmother.

Her mother technically owned the other cottage her grandmother had and while her mom really wanted to sell it, she insisted she would take care of it while she was here and tend to any renters.

Which is why her mother texted her at least once a week about the renter at the cottage just three houses down the road. Our renter said there’s only one towel. Any ideas?

She gasped wondering how it slipped her mind to take the towels out of the dryer and fold them neatly into the bathroom linen closet. On it. She responded and practically ran down the road. She knocked on the door to her second home away from home and waited for the person on the other side to answer. While waiting she noticed the little sign below the main window was crooked—fell off the hook again in the ocean wind. She needed to remember to bring a pair of pliers back to close the loop the next time she came over.

The two cottages were almost identical. Except this door was a sea blue and hers was a sea green. They were little wooden cottages, shingled top to bottom. Just two windows at the front of the house, two on the back, and one on each side. There were two skylights in the roof allowing for lots of natural light. Each home had two small bedrooms, a bathroom, a spacious sitting area and full kitchen. They were wall to wall hardwood floors even though her Grandma in the 70s tried very hard to convince everyone it needed carpeting. But try vacuuming sand out of a beach cottage all the time. Due to space behind the home, hers had a little patio but this one was fitted with a little patio and an outdoor shower.

The blue door opened while she was still putting the wood block that read Sea View back in it’s place. “Uh...hello?” He asked. She turned to find Harry, surprise all across his face, to see the girl he met earlier outside his rental.

Of course it was Harry. “Oh, how funny!” She chirped excited to see the gorgeous man from the beach once more—her plan right now was to not-so-casually run into him at the beach again the next day. “I should have asked where you were renting!”

He smirked. “Hi love,” he said sweetly, confused that she was here. “Uh...what are you doing here?”

“My family owns this cottage,” she explained. “Mom texted me that you don’t have towels? That’s my fault. Left them in the dryer when I was cleaning on turnover day. I’ll fold them now,” she said and marched herself inside and maneuvered through the familiar room with ease.

“Oh,” Harry said. “S’okay, love. I didn’t mean t’bother you—I would have found them eventually—”

“Absolutely not, it’s your vacation! You deserve clean towels and not have to worry about looking for things,” she was already piling the fluffy array of sea blue and green towels out of the dryer and began folding them expertly. “I’m going to leave you my number so if you need anything you can just ask me. I always tell her to just give them my number, but she worries about weirdos taking advantage of me,” she rolled her eyes.

What would possess me to say that to Harry?

He smiled as he watched her flurry of activity. Her rambling little monologue. She was definitely scaring him. It occurred to her at that moment she didn’t even wait to be invited into his space. Just strode right in. “Glad m’not a weirdo. I agree with y’mum. Think I would like her,” he nodded firmly.

She felt her face warm, and she hoped the tan hid the blush as much as possible. Harry’s nose and cheeks looked a bit red—like he caught a bit of a cold. The rest of his body was covered by a simple pair of jogging shorts and a simple t-shirt so she couldn’t see if he burned and also didn’t want to be caught staring at him—especially thinking about the abs he had on display under the litany of tattoos she saw earlier at the beach. “Well, I will fold these and get out of your hair,” she said focusing on the towels. But her brain glitched out once more. “Oh, do you like surfing?” She asked.

He chuckled leaning against the frame of the door leading to this utility room. “Only been once with a group of m’friends. S’not m’cup of tea. M’not very good.”

“Oh, okay. I just want to make sure I recommend everything you might like.”

He was smirking at her like she was a bit crazy—and she was—but Harry wasn’t helping. Without sunglasses she saw he had green eyes. Green. She was done before this even started. Once all the towels were folded, she made herself at home once more, hurrying to the bathroom to put all the towels in place. The bathroom smelled like men’s cologne: sandalwood and sage. Jesus Christ it’s like he was built in a lab for me.

Harry followed her as she put the towels away in an alternating pattern. “Thank you,” he said. “Y’really didn’t need t’do all that.”

“You’re the guest. You paid to get this kind of service,” she reminded him. “I’m also...only three houses down if you need something as well. It’s got a sign like yours below the window Sun-Kissed Cabana. My grandma named them.”

He nodded and stared at her for a few moments. She had only known Harry for all of five hours, but she could swear she knew his thoughts. He probably did think she was a bit crazy. “Do...do y’have plans for dinner?”

She felt her heart flutter. She was going to order her favorite pesto pasta dish from a local place that practically recognized her voice when she called. “Uh...no.”

“Would y’like t’go out with me in ‘bout an hour?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”

*

She was finishing up her makeup when her phone vibrated with a second message from Harry. The first one was to alert her who was messaging Hiii, it’s Harry Xx. Followed by: Does this place have a fancy dress code?

No, no. Nothing fancy at all! They’ve def got a beach bar vibe.

Cool :) I’m ready when you are.

Shit. She wanted to curl her hair a bit and look extra nice but maybe that would have looked like she was trying too hard after she just got through telling him it wasn’t a fancy place. She had on a maxi dress. Black top nothing revealing and then the skirt pattern had sunflowers all over it. She would have to forgo the curls and instead pushed the front of her hair back with a headband. Just need like five more minutes.

I’m in no rush, love. Please take your time Xx.

She thought she was going to melt. Fortunately, her tanned skin hid most of the imperfections of her face. She also preferred maxi dresses because it hid the thickness of her thighs and more imperfections like bumps from shaving and bruises from whacking herself on her beach chair. She thought the style she chose also perfectly accentuated the curve of her waist. While it didn’t show off her cleavage—it was her personal belief her boobs were one of her better assets—she thought after a day at the beach with them on full display due to her bathing suit, dinner might be a little gentler without them in Harry’s face the whole time.

With a spritz of her perfume and gathering all her necessary belongings into her purse, slid on her favorite pair of sandals with gold brushed embellishments, and headed outside. There wasn’t really a discussion of how they would get there, but she decided to walk down the road back to Sea View. Harry was crouched by the sign, pliers in hand closing the very loop she said she would. “Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said hurriedly feeling like a terrible hostess.

He turned and smiled at her. “No worries, love. S’easy. Jus’ found some pliers in the utility closet.”

“Well, thank you,” she murmured gratefully. Harry stood, putting the pliers just inside the doorway before locking it with the passcode. He turned to her.

“Is this place walking distance, or should I drive us?” He asked. His hair was fluffed in these beautiful chocolate waves that of course reminded her of the beach but made her want to bury her hands in it and kiss his perfect face until she was out of breath.

“Uh,” she didn’t think she wanted to walk in a dress, but maybe that was the experience of this vacation for him. Harry looked utterly comfortable but perfect (naturally) in a pair of navy-blue khaki shorts and grey short sleeve button down. The lack of sleeves showed off those tattoos that she was continuously falling for. On his feet he wore a pair of light grey sneakers. “We can walk, but it might take me a while in a dress and sandals.”

“Oh shit, of course. What m’I saying? Y’can’t walk in a pretty dress like that,” he said hurrying to the car and opening the passenger side. “After you, love. Jus’ need t’tell me the directions,” he smiled at her.

All the books she had brought to her summer vacation had a romantic flare to them. Her only thought was there should be a book written about this very day—meeting Harry at the beach and going on a date with him. It was impractical and a bit flighty of her to be so taken with him already.

But there was no way she could help it when he got in the driver’s seat, smiled at her with those dreamy dimples and his eyes twinkled at her behind those pretty lashes of his. “Y’look gorgeous, love.”

*

It was effortless how much he enjoyed her company. The idea that it was only his first full day and he had already had a good beach day and another good jog under his belt. The post-beach-and-jog shower was cold-watered but steamy as he thought of the pretty girl in her pretty bathing suit. He imagined her smile, the gentle curve of her lips as he wrapped his hand around his cock as the water cooled off his sweaty and warm skin for several minutes until he was finally relieved of seeing her...assets at the beach.

Seeing her immediately after he inquired about the lack of towels as soon as he had shorts on was like a dream. Her agreeing to dinner with a beautiful girl was not what he expected when he booked this trip six months ago. Only one day in and this was the best vacation he had ever been on.

They arrived at the restaurant and after searching through the menu in silence, they placed drinks and an appetizer to share.

Did he mention how effortless this all was? The conversation was once more not a moment of dullness. She was funny, beautiful, kind, and it seemed that everyone at the restaurant knew her at least a little bit. “Our sun-kissed angel is here!” A man shouted from across the patio where they were seated. Everyone turned to follow the gaze of the man and Harry smirked instead of being jealous because he was right. She was an angel. A tanned, lovely, gorgeous angel.

She rolled her eyes. “Harry, this is my friend Louis. I used to work here in the summer.”

“Before she went off an got a real job, like a traitor.”

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

*

“Okay, well...we can’t not get ice cream,” she said knowingly.

“You just told the waiter you were too full for dessert,” he chuckled at her.

“You don’t get dessert at a restaurant when there are literally seven different ice cream shops within spitting distance,” she rolled her eyes. “Summer is for ice cream. If we hurry, we can see a sunset too.”

“Y’sure know how t’get the most out of a summer day.”

She frowned. “Oh...I’m sorry. I forget that you only have two weeks. We don’t have to. We can head back,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, not at all, love. S’a great idea,” he reached out across the console and rested his hand on her thigh near her knee. With the long dress covering her legs, it wasn’t terribly inappropriate, but it was so instinctive to reach out and touch her he felt he made a mistake when she was suddenly speechless. Unable to tell Harry where to go to get her precious ice cream. “Er...sorry,” he said pulling his hand back to rest on the gearshift between them. “Should have asked,” he felt his face warm in embarrassment.

“N-no, it’s okay,” she nodded quickly. Her voice was breathy as she stammered. “I was...” She shook her head. “You can touch me—I mean,” she put a hand over her face in embarrassment at the encouragement she just gave him. Harry decided to quickly put her out of her misery—he did say tits after looking at her for thirty seconds this morning, even if she didn’t hear it. He gave her leg a gentle squeeze as he moved his hand back to where it was. She was silent again once more and she rested one hand over his. Letting a few of her fingers fill the space between his but not twining them fully together. “Is this okay?” She asked softly.

Harry melted over her sweetness. “Perfect.”

*

They ate their ice cream on the beach sitting on the tall, white lifeguard stand since it was late. There was a smattering of running kids, a few dogs, and families littered closer to the water on the tidal flats. But no one was over where they were. Up on the soft sand encroaching on the dunes. They chatted in between licks and bites of ice cream and Harry was certain he was falling deeper and deeper in love with her by the millisecond. It was ridiculous. Love at first sight couldn’t possibly be real. He had three or four serious girlfriends (four if you counted his junior high love affair, three if you didn’t) all of whom he did fall in love with but over the course of weeks and months. Not minutes and hours. Maybe it was the salt air playing with his brain chemistry.

Certainly, it had something to do with the beautiful girl sitting so close to him he could feel her sun-kissed skin warming him from the gentle breeze floating off the water as the sun started its descent over the horizon. She took her phone from her purse and snapped a picture quickly. Hardly looked at it, barely centered it, yet it was the most beautiful sunset picture he’d ever seen.

“Are y’a photographer in y’free time?” He asked.

She snorted. “No, I do like taking pictures. But I have hundreds of these,” she said showing him the photo album of various sunset pictures she had taken over the years. Harry could see why she was so good at them. No two pictures looked alike which had to be a poem somewhere out there. Harry always considered himself a winter—growing up in cold England would do that to a person—and no two snowflakes were alike. Snowflakes had nothing on her sunsets.

“D’you want t’take a picture together?” He asked quietly.

She smirked. “Do I have chocolate on my face?” She wrinkled her nose at him.

Chuckling, he shook his head. “No,” he promised. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her snuggly against him. “S’this okay?” he asked almost directly into her ear. She nodded and smiled as she flipped her camera around to selfie mode. Harry had one arm around her waist, the other holding his ice cream cone. She reached her arm out to take the picture while she held her cup of ice cream in her lap with the other. Gazing at her screen, Harry couldn’t believe how effortless it felt to touch her. It was so easy to talk to her. And they looked like the perfect beach couple. “Can y’send that to me?” He murmured in her ear once more. She nodded mutely. Harry didn’t remove his arm from around her waist and he continued eating his ice cream.

Once finished with their treat, they continued chatting and watching the sunset listening to the laughter of families on the beach. The sky was so pretty Harry thought that she was right. This was the best place on earth.

*

They walked back to their cottages hand in hand, Harry stopping outside the door for the place labeled Sun-Kissed Cabana. “S’that why Louis calls you a sun-kissed angel?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s something else.”

Harry chuckled. Leaned forward and swept his lips on the apple of her cheek. “I had the perfect first day with you, love,” he said softly. “Sleep well,” he hummed and turned to walk three houses down. She pressed a hand on her cheek like a lovesick idiot. She nearly forgot the code to get into her own house and felt like floating all the way to her room where she giggled and kicked across her bed as she smiled into her pillow.

*

The next three days were spent almost the same as the first. The beach: complete with reading, naps, and lots of talking to the pretty girl he liked so much already. Followed by a run, a shower, and then dinner. Harry tried really hard not to touch her without asking. The only allowance he gave himself to touch her without asking was when he truly felt like her back was getting a little singed. On the second day she made the grilled chicken salad she told Harry she was going to make before he invited her to dinner, but once he informed her he was a pescetarian she hurried to the store to get him some fish to grill instead. It was totally unnecessary, and Harry felt guilty she spent money on him like that for dinner (even though he was insistent he pay for dinner and ice cream the first night). Regardless, it was a delicious salad paired with zucchini noodles that truly tasted just like pasta. Harry made her write the recipe down for him.

“I can’t run at all,” she wrinkled her nose when Harry offered to join her on her evening walk the following day.

“I’d rather walk with y’then, love,” he said softly with a smile. “If y’want company, that is.”

She wanted to say she wanted Harry’s company. But thought that was a bit too much. But they walked side by side, Harry gently ushering her to the inside of the road without making any fuss about it. They continued their comfortable chattering. Talking of anything and everything. That night they ordered pizza that was delivered to Sea View and watched a movie in his living room, her feet in his lap where he rubbed the soles of her aching feet without prompting or full acknowledgement.

By the end of the third day, she thought Harry might be her best friend. He made crispy cauliflower tacos. He spent the evening simply reading on her back porch with her in comfortable, perfect silence.

*

The fourth day, they were sitting on her back porch again, sipping bubbly wine spritzers that she put in glasses of ice and combined with a popsicle to match the flavors. Harry thought it was sinful the way she licked the pop. Harry wanted to jump her bones so very badly.

“How do you like the outdoor shower?” She asked looking up at the sky full of stars. There was a citronella candle between them to keep the bugs away and she had a solar set of lights strung about her little patio. She was in a soft warm glow from the lights. Once more, looking sun kissed. She was wearing a shorter dress than the other day, shorts beneath it. She informed him about the shorts because she said it was an athletic-type dress and she may have sat weird and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Harry thought there wasn’t anything she could do to make him uncomfortable.

“I haven’t used it, actually. M’not sure I—”

She made an almost inhuman noise, a cross between a growl and gasp. It was quite adorable even if she seemed miffed and Harry wished he could have recorded the sound because he thought he would listen to it on loop for the rest of forever. “Harry!” She almost shouted. “The sole reason I took Sun-Kissed Cabana over Sea View was because I knew the outdoor shower would be a huge selling point for renters. You haven’t used it?” She looked nearly betrayed.

He chuckled, sipping his drink. “M’sorry, love. I didn’t realize—”

“Harry, I’m not kidding. You have to go use it. Like right now.”

He laughed loudly. If there could possibly be a downside of this little beach-cottage neighborhood, it would be that the houses were quite close, and Harry’s loud laughter could probably be heard back at his own place. But she was staring at him seriously. He thought she really expected him to get up and leave at this moment so he could get this experience.

“Y’serious?” He asked smirking at her.

“I don’t joke about the outdoor shower,” she promised him.

Finishing his popsicle and taking the last sips of his drink he stood from her little patio table and shook his head with a chuckle at her. “I guess m’going.”

He wanted to invite her. Especially if she didn’t have one here at Cabana. It sounded like she would like it more. “You better,” she continued licking the pop and Harry was grateful he would at least have a new image to think about in the outdoor shower when he imagined his hand around his dick was her mouth instead.

*

The air was cool but somehow warm. Sort of like the water on his skin. He could see the draw and actually surprised himself that he hadn’t used the shower yet. He imagined in the morning it would be heaven—most of his showers had been in the afternoon or evening since he was running at that time. But maybe he could take two showers a day—who cared? He was on vacation.

Was it heavenly? Her message read.

Harry thought about how much how active his imagination got picturing her in that shower with him, his hand fisting over himself until he imagined her pretty cleavage covered in him instead of flowing with the water down the drain. Extremely. But of course, he left out why it was so heavenly. You should write a book of recommendations for your guests.

:) You can come back over if you want. I know I kind of kicked you out, but like I said. I’m very serious about outdoor showers.

Chuckling to himself, he hurried to get dressed again and meet her back there.

*

She knew Harry’s family was coming today so she told him that she would give him all kinds of space but if he needed anything, he was not to hesitate to ask her. “M’mum and sister would love t’meet you, kitten,” he promised. He didn’t mean to call her kitten. But it rolled off the tongue so effortlessly and she was the one who said she felt like a cat in the sun. But he didn’t spend long thinking about it and continued his little speech. “Y’don’t have t’evade us.”

“I’m sure you want family time,” she promised. “Really, it’s fine. Plus, we’ll have a whole other week to do our little routine,” she felt her face warm as she spoke realizing she just told Harry she wanted to spend the remainder of his vacation together. She opened her mouth to backtrack almost instantly, but Harry beat her to the punch before she could speak again.

Given that Harry was this close to telling her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, another full week spent together seemed like a great idea. “I can’t wait,” he promised.

They decided to do a sunrise that morning. She brought a blanket and was wrapped up in a long sleeve shirt along with a pair of sweatpants. She advised Harry to do the same. “The air is still cool from the night when you get to the beach early,” she explained the night before they parted to go to bed.

They were laying on the blanket angled by the natural slope of the dunes so they could see the view of the sun cresting on the ocean horizon. “Do y’have as many sunrise pictures?” He asked tiredly. With the sun rising at just after five-thirty she was courteous and kind in asking that they get there at five so they could see the dawn and array of beautiful colors painting the sky before the sun got there.

She giggled. “No way. Too early to see it that many times. I do like sunrises more, though,” she said. “It’s so much quieter. It’s not as hot. I don’t know. I think sunrises are just so beautiful.”

He immediately, silently agreed with her that they were. No matter how much he was enjoying sunsets with her. He would wake up at 4:45 every day if it meant watching something she found beautiful, and it made her happy. Harry had her pulled to his side again, his arm looped beneath the back of her neck. His eyes were closed as he fiddled with a strand of her hair running his fingers through the soft tendrils. “Harry,” she whispered after a few minutes. Harry felt the edges of sleep and the dreamworld starting to meld together on his brain. “You’re gonna miss it,” her voice was so gentle. Perfect for morning. She was the most beautiful thing he had laid eyes on but he couldn't bring himself to open them right now.

“Hmm,” he hummed. Refusing to open his eyes. “S’okay. We can see it another day,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “Harry,” she whispered so gently. It felt like magic. Warmth spread through his whole body. “We woke up so early,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “M’sorry,” he sighed. “It’s so peaceful,” he muttered. “You’re warm,” he turned his face to bury his nose in her hair and he nuzzled closer to her. Harry being a cuddler didn’t surprise her. He was quite touchy. But this sent her heart into a frenzy, and she forgot why they were there.

“Harry,” she whispered again feeling brave. Maybe because it was too early, and her brain wasn’t functioning.

“Jus’ lemme sleep, kitten. Please?” He muttered into her hair. “Wake me in twenty-nine minutes.”

She swallowed. “But...I want to kiss you,” she sounded so shy.

Harry’s eyes sprung open, and he pulled back from her quickly to look at her beautiful, perfect face. “M’awake,” he promised and gently cupped her cheeks, his fingers slipping through her hair, and he brought her face closer to his. Kissing her like he had been dreaming about over the last five days was the only thing on his mind.

She moaned against his mouth and Harry was really looking forward to that outdoor shower now. She pressed against him, keening as she licked into his mouth, sucking on his lower lip. Driving him absolutely mad as she nipped at his lip gently with her teeth. She could feel herself squeezing her thighs together for relief because she was finally kissing Harry the way she wished she did at sunset on his first night here.

Harry’s hands were cool against her flushed cheeks. “Kitten,” he hummed against her mouth, pecking at her like he would die without her kisses. “Y’taste so good,” he sighed dreamily.

She rolled to her side to face him squarely while he returned to his side too, instead of hovering over her. He wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her against him. Over the past four days at the beach, she had tried really hard not to stare at whatever was going on in Harry’s swimsuit, so she didn’t look like a sex-maniac. But there was no way she could ignore the hard dick she felt against her thigh as she pressed against the full length of his body. She imagined Harry fucking her so hard in that outdoor shower that the neighbors would have no way of ignoring what was happening. She moaned at the idea once more against his lips, thighs pressing together.

“Oh no,” he hummed. If she wasn’t already so drunk in love with Harry after one date and four days together, she might have thought his voice sounded a bit mocking. Slowly, he rolled onto his back holding onto her and perching her body on top of him as he did. One of his legs separated her thighs apart. “Do y’need something from me, love?” He cooed almost lovingly at the idea she was aching between her legs. He kept her pulled down toward him so he could continue kissing her, effectively melting all coherent thought.

Holy shit, his voice. Oh my God.

Without meaning to, she clenched her legs once more, this time, wrapped around Harry’s thigh causing friction, despite two layers of sweatpants and her underwear (at least those were thin). “N-no,” she almost whimpered trying to get away from his leg. Harry put his hands on her hips and gently pressed her back down toward him while bending his knee a bit. His thigh came closer in contact with her so if she wanted to, she could rub right against him.

“Y’sure, love? You look like y’might need something,” his voice was so sultry. It was too early for this. His eyes were somehow a deeper green. His lips were too pink after kissing her.

“N-no,” she shook her head despite wanting nothing more than to grind her pelvis against his thigh. She knew what it looked like beneath the sweatpants. She knew the tattoos that dotted his skin. Fuck, she wanted to get herself off so bad. But she was acutely aware of her position and tried to lift herself off his leg. “I-I think m’too heavy,” she stammered again.

He groaned and pulled her tighter against his leg. “No way, angel,” he promised. “Go ahead, know y’want to. I want y’to,” his voice was a bit husky. Like he was a bit confused. She groaned softly. God she wanted to. “That’s it,” he encouraged as she ground herself against him.

She felt flush, wishing she wasn’t wearing sweatpants. They were getting in the way. The long sleeve shirt was making her warmer. Or maybe it was Harry that was making her warm. Harry helped shift her hips back and forth against his leg as she moaned and whimpered as she rutted against his thigh. “Y’look so pretty, kitten,” he cooed. “Getting off on m’thigh like that. S’making me so hard, love. Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re s’pretty.”

She continued creating friction on between the two of them worried she would give herself a burn from all the fabric rubbing together but she was so fucking wet she was certain she would slide easily against him if she could take her pants off in public. The sun was still rising, not quite up over the horizon yet, but the sky was brighter, creating a gorgeous image of her beautiful body silhouetted from the light. “S’good, so good, baby,” he groaned. She whined and continued rutting herself against him.

“Harry,” she croaked.

“Yeah, love? Y’gonna come for me? Gonna come from jus’ m’thigh?”

Jesus Christ, she felt like she was a virgin. She was almost certain she was. Had she ever even had an orgasm before Harry? When was the last time she had sex? When was the last time she masturbated? Holy shit. This was bad. He was all consuming and he was fully clothed, and it was just his thigh.

She nodded at his words. Even though she felt a bit silly and stupid for doing this, with two layers of sweatpants between them. “Yeah? Good, want y’to. Y’look so pretty all—”

“Fucking hell,” she whimpered and dropped her face to his chest as she twitched against him. Harry flexed his muscle, gripping her hips and rubbing her against him so he could help her ride out the waves of her orgasm for a few moments. After that, Harry dropped his knee once more, letting her flatten against him. He kissed her forehead as she breathed heavily against him, shaky and sighing as she let the euphoria course through her. He rubbed up and down her back as she did, and he breathed deeply into her hair. She smelled like sunscreen and coconut.

“I really like sunrises,” he murmured. She smirked. Her face against his chest. “Y’sleepy, now, kitten?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” her voice was a bit quiet. Almost unsure. “Sorry,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his shirt.

He shook his head, kissing the top of her hair once more. “Don’t be sorry. Been thinking ‘bout y’coming all over me since I met you.”

She giggled. “Yeah?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t very...flattering on his part. It also made it sound like he only liked her for the idea of sex. Which wasn’t the case. He liked her so much simply because she was the sweetest, nicest person he had had the pleasure of meeting for a really long time.

She rolled off him. He kind of hated it because even though it wasn’t freezing cold, it felt like it now that she wasn’t laying on his body. She looked at the outline of the bulge stretching against his gray sweatpants. It was still ten minutes until the sun would be touching the horizon. “Fair’s fair, yeah?” She wondered, looking up at him and then back down at the somehow growing outline. She would be lucky if he fit in her mouth.

“Angel, y’don’t have to jus’ because—”

She frowned. “Do...you not want me to?” She wondered, confused and worried that he was rejecting her. She didn’t know why if he had just used her thigh to get him off.

“No, no,” he said quickly wanting to ease the worry he saw fill her beautiful face. God he would rather die than reject her. “I mean...y’can do whatever y’want to m’body,” he nodded eagerly. “Jus’ don’t want you t’think you have to. Been thinking ‘bout—” his voice choked off as she outlined the bulge. “Oh...s’nice,” he moaned forgetting everything he was saying about what she could do to him. Her fingertip simply ran along absent-minded paths along his length. He struggled to remember the last time he had sex because he could only imagine the episode in the outdoor shower as the last time he orgasmed.

She giggled. “Nice?” She questioned; Harry was so polite. The way he walked with her on the inside of the road, the way he held her door open no matter if they were going in the house or the car, or if he simply carried her heavy cooler off the beach even though he was carrying his own belongings. For him to say it was nice the way she was touching his dick was simply...something else.

He nodded breathlessly. “Yeah,” he was already too far gone with just her goddamn finger touching him. He couldn’t have made any comment further if he wanted to. He moaned as she squeezed gently along the length of him. Five minutes till sunrise and the beach would be covered in light. She glanced around quickly, seeing they were still alone. She had never done this in the five years she had been staying the summer back in town keeping an eye on Sea View while living in Sun-Kissed Cabana.

“Do you think I could make you come in five minutes?” She whispered.

He groaned almost animalistically. “Love, I think y’could make me come in forty-five seconds,” he promised. And with that, she dipped her head toward his waist just until the sun was ready to cross over the horizon.

*

It was quite difficult not to text Harry all day long while his family visited. It was entirely due to having an orgasm at his hand (thigh); the creeping need to bond to the person who just made her entire world flip upside down was a prominent feeling throughout her body the whole day. The words of her book didn’t make any sense, so she opted for cleaning her bathroom. But that proved to be difficult too, and she spilled most of the mop water back onto the floor. After another fit of cleaning that up, she decided to spend her time at the grocery store since she was getting dangerously low on her much-needed items. She nearly forgot to go to the checkout line. After putting everything away she thought about just going to bed at three in the afternoon just to rid her mind of how crazy she was being and how awkwardly she missed her summer guy.

Fortunately, Harry broke first, before she fell asleep.

I know it’s silly, but I miss you terribly.

She felt so much relief reading his message. Oh, thank God. Me too.

You really should just come over. Mum and Gemma want to meet you. I won’t shut up about you. It’s...a bit pathetic how obsessed I sound actually. Mum’s in the outdoor shower while Gemma is taking pictures of the beach. We’re going to have dinner in a bit—you should join us. He put this shy little emoji after his message.

She was currently dressed in a pair of bike shorts and t-shirt that fell past her hips, barely a strip of the shorts showed. She had her hair pulled back by a claw clip. She wanted to go over there immediately. However, her outfit and hair did not look ready to meet Harry’s family. Plus, she was worried she would do something stupid like sit in Harry’s lap in front of his mother and sister and then she would have to jump out a window to hide her infatuation.

I would love to, but really...I’m sure they want to see you.

They want to ‘meet the girl that’s got me all flustered’ that I nearly dropped all our snack bar food in the sand today :)

She giggled. Glad he was also affected by their sunrise romp in the sand. Maybe tomorrow? She hedged instead. She really didn’t want to intrude.

Please, love. That would be wonderful.

*

She must have fallen asleep anyway. But she woke up to a knock at her door. She felt the claw clip sliding out of the back of her hair and she rubbed her eye as she made her way over. There stood Harry and two women outside the screen door. Each of them was holding a dish of (presumably) food. Immediately, she felt underdressed and stupid looking. “Uh, hey beautiful,” he smiled gently. “Sorry t’bother you. But seems the barbeque back there is out of gas,” he explained. “I sent y’a text—”

“Harry, the poor girl was sleeping,” his mother admonished. “I told you we could just go out to eat. Love, m’so sorry. I swear some days he was raised in a barn!” She shook her head. “We’ll leave you be.”

“No, no,” she shook her head quickly, the clip clattering from the ends of her hair to the floor. She felt her face warm, once more grateful for the tan skin to hide most of the blush rushing to her cheeks. She opened the door for them to enter and quickly swept the clip into her hands. “Make yourselves at home,” she said, and Harry ushered his mother toward the kitchen and out the back door toward the patio and grill. Gemma walked slower behind her family to give some reassurance to the girl who was struggling to fix her hair in the little entry way mirror.

“M’sorry about both of them in advance,” Gemma whispered. “Harry hasn’t been able to function normally all day and Mum is already in love with you. When you didn’t answer, it was the first coherent thought Mum had about not begging to see you and thus began Harry pacing waiting all of four minutes for your response before he said we could just come over like absolute lunatics.”

Oh God she liked Gemma. “Thank you. I’m so sorry I look like this,” she winced at the image of her reflection. She was all frizz and pillow lines from the couch where she fell asleep.

She snorted. “Please, we interrupted your evening. Your quiet time and relaxation. Don’t worry about it. You look beautiful,” she promised pressing a hand on her arm and headed after her brother and mother.

If she wasn't already--which she was pretty sure she was--Harry’s lovely little family was going to ensure she fell so hopelessly and terribly in love with Harry.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin

Please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[stationintern]

Hello my friends! I am late, but we won't mention it. April was a very busy month, but I managed to read way more than I've been able to the last few months, so I have a good selection for you. There's a couple rereads, a couple fics I put off reading for far too long, and a few that I found at the perfect time and devoured on sight.

Let's go!

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites for H/D Bodice Ripper Fest 2022 M, 14.8k

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

I read this fic about a year ago, and I am so glad that I chose to revisit it this month. It is just so, so good. Endlessly hilarious, with a solid plot that is resolved neatly in 14 thousand words. I really love Harry here. His letters are so adorable. This aspect comes in later in this list as well, but I love when Draco is kind of a mysterious figure for a good chunk of a fic. The wondering, the anticipation. What kind of Draco will we meet this time? It's all very delicious.

Seeker's High by @corvuscrowned M, 40k

Harry Potter doesn’t expect to take up running years after the war ends; it just sort of happens. He also doesn’t expect that — as he fights tooth and nail to climb out of a post-war depression he didn’t realize he’d fallen into — he’ll end up running right into the arms of Draco Malfoy. A half angsty drama, half romcom of Harry working on himself, learning how to accept help from his friends, and falling in love with his childhood nemesis.

Another reread. This is one of those fics I've found myself periodically thinking about, mostly because it just feels so right. Harry's characterization in this is fascinating, and I really enjoyed watching his slow evolution as his relationships grow, both with running and with Draco. A unique premise that I really enjoyed and know I will revisit again.

Turn by Saras_Girl E, 306k

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Okay, so, I'm not even gonna say anything. I put off reading this for way too long, and not knowing a single thing about this fic was probably the reason I devoured every chapter the way I did. Just know I was clawing at the walls.

Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu E, 75.3k

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

Oh my fucking god. I have never in my life laughed out loud this many times while reading a fic. Truly, two dumb, horny assholes just trying to crack the case. But, behind all the side-splitting humor (and searingly hot sex) is a deep understanding of both characters that shines through and makes every moment hit so much harder. As in, they would fucking say that. Every single follow-up in the series is a banger, too. Thanks to @tackytigerfic for pointing those out to me!

Make This Leap by @oflights M, 118k

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

I relived four years of my life reading this fic. Both the good and the bad. Truly, a wonderful portrayal of the epic highs and lows of restaurant work. From personal drama to work-related catastrophes, this fic has it all. Like I said before, I love having to wait a bit to see Draco. I love hearing about him through the grapevine. I had so much fun reading this, and it was a treat to see these characters in an environment that I hadn't really envisioned them in before. Lovable (and punchable) side characters, a very stressed out Harry Potter, and a solid amount of health code infractions. Amazing.

See you at the end of May! xx, Moon.

[notcaycepollard]

okay but something I think is so fascinating about goncharov that I haven't seen anyone else talk about is the way food (and consumption) is emblematic of one of the absolute core themes of the film: the way goncharov is so conflicted with his desire for freedom and non-conventional relationships and how that's fundamentally inconsistent with (both externally socially imposed and his own internal) expectations of what is acceptable. and you see that play out in a way that has to be deliberate because to me it's just too explicit to be accidental. when you go back and watch in detail it's obvious that goncharov is always eating, always consuming, when he's interacting with andrey compared to his denial of hunger in almost every interaction with katya. and then on top of that the casual and (what some might argue) inappropriate nature of the food goncharov chooses when it's andrey offering, compared to the rigid enforcement of domesticity as represented by the meals goncharov conspicuously fails to eat with katya, G O D. the way it's filmed? the precise and artificial symmetry of those tables and how she's framed by the candles, the silverware? and like, I know we're all obsessed with the anchovy scene and I get it, it makes me just as feral as everyone else and also we all get it, anchovy as stand in for going down on someone, it's not SUBTLE, but to me the fruit stall scene is just as important. it's the first time goncharov is offered something and takes it!! and I don't think it's coincidence either that what goncharov chooses - what andrey offers - is representative of naples, as opposed to the traditional russian food katya is always serving.

and like honestly, I know some people interpret the dinner scenes with katya as misogynistic, I'm not saying it's not a valid take, but again to me I think it speaks just as much about how trapped katya is by social expectations too. she tries so hard to perform the role of the good wife, polishing the fucking silverware and making blini when she deserves so much more than that, and then there's the parallel of sofia offering her a lick of her gelato and honestly can you really tell me the anchovy scene is still your favourite, katya/sofia is so fucking slept on, the tension!!!! L I K E come on how is everything in this film about fucking oral sex I mean

anyway the way that by the end of the film these conflicts are resolved with goncharov and katya at the table on the street, finally eating together but in a way that's not constrained by the trappings of domesticity or the expectation of remaining true to your roots, katya is finally seen by goncharov as a whole person with her own internal life and he's able to break bread with her, that final shot of them drinking wine with the church behind them, it's just, the catholicism in this film is a lot okay

and like I truly think that the way rusty in ocean's eleven is always eating is a deliberate homage to this film, we know soderbergh is influenced by avant-garde cinema and I don't think that's coincidence, and now I'm going to go write the katya-centric fic I want to see in the world with the title 'lay the table (with the fancy shit)' because I am inveterate taylor swift trash

[eevees-hobbies]

I’ve made my triumphant return from trying to get ready for university in the fall to bring you ✨this✨

Endo likes jerking off in front of you, but only if you’re playing with your pretty pussy while you watch him. He gets so caught up in watching the way your little hole clenches and drools for him. He can’t help turning it into a competition. His tattooed fist dragging up and down his cock faster and faster, while he leers down at you with a fucked out grin. It’s the one occasion he WANTS to finish you before you. And when he finally does cum, making a mess all over his own hand, he barely relishes in the high. Instead, he’s too busy racing to his place between your spread legs and swatting your hand away from your cunt so that he can slip his nut covered fingers inside. His lips mockingly form an “O” and he’s nodding condescendingly, “there ya go, sweetheart. Just what you needed, huh.” He can’t help trying to humiliate you as if he isn’t the one bordering on desperate for it as he briefly pulls his hand away to scoop up the left over cum from his spent cock- rambling about how you always take his cum so well as his soaked fingers return to your gummy insides and reach for the little spot only he can reach. It’s never long before you’re cumming with his help. Some days you go to bed, satiated and content with that load warming your pussy, but most of the time seeing you dozing off with your legs still spread and his seed slowly beginning to trickle out of your spent pussy has Endo’s dick twitching and he doesn’t let you off the hook until your cunt is swollen and he’s dumped at least two more loads into you.

ALTERNATIVELY could get a similar situation but in a different font with Togame (I’m biased. Everything I say could be about him), Kaji, Ume, KIRYUUUUUU and prolly sweet lil Sakura who’s fascinated and hooked after the first time you let him NUT inside of you (don’t ever say I did nothing for you after I used your cursed word twice)

Baaaaaaaaaby!

I finally crawled out of my hole in the ground last night and came across this in my inbox! How the FUCK did I miss this?! First of all, I'm happy to see you embracing the nut. Nut supremacy should be spread!

Secondly, I hope Uni is treating you well! I don't miss that life at all so I'm sending you FULL solidarity.

Also? This thirst?! I'm not an Endo girlie but I'm not too proud to admit that lines like, "His lips mockingly form an “O” and he’s nodding condescendingly, “there ya go, sweetheart. Just what you needed, huh.” fucking RUIN me.

Content Warning: NSFW below the cut! Written with Togame, Endo (oh god) or Sakura in mind. Somnophilia, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk. use of Daddy in a sexual way. Grammarly was not consulted, so I apologize if there are any errors. Minors Do Not Interact.

My brain turns off a little bit at the idea of Endo, Togame or Sakura finger fucking their nut back into you. Truly, it's an obsession watching the way it builds up around their knuckles as they push it in deeper into your already spent and quivering sex. Their brows furrow because fuck the sight is hot, and they just need to get a better angle so they can...push...just a little...more in.

They'd pull back to admire their handiwork, and then they'd get the best fucking idea; their cock could be way more efficient.

Sure, you passed out from creampie-induced exhaustion long ago, but this is something that you'd want, right? They'd settle between your thighs, their eyes flicking up to look at your adorable, unassuming sleeping self, and slowly drag the bulging, precum-dripping cock head against your sloppy cunt, already smearing the remnants of the previous session against your clit and labia.

They'd let out a shaky breath as they pushed inside of you. Their eyes rolling all the way fucking back into their skull.

Fuck, this is better, much better, he thinks as his balls already ache for release. His grip on your hips tightens to keep him from losing control too early (Togame would be fine, my jury is still out on Endo, I think he can bust quick but has the libido to be ready again if you spread those legs juuuust right for him, but sometimes Sakura gets so lost in the feeling that he's bursting too early for his liking).

Whatever dream you were having is cut far too short as you feel your body being manipulated in an unnatural way. Your chest feels heavy as you open your eyes and realize that lust-clouded eyes are looking down at you, your legs are pressed against your chest and crushing your tits against the top of your thighs in the process. His mouth is open in an o-shape as he takes in any bit of air to sustain his breathing to keep fucking his cute little incubator.

He's fucking you with so much force that your body is moving up the bed, your head hitting the headboard, and you can't help but wonder how long this has been going on because it feels way too good for it to have just started.

"Fuck, you're awake. Working on giving you another load, princess. Now look up at Daddy and smile while I give you what you deserve."

Any other person might be upset that their partner took to using them in their sleep, but not you, not his perverse, beautiful cumslut of a girl, and he adores that about you. His strong hand reaches down and grips your jaw as his mouth curls into a smirk.

"Look at me when I fill your needy cunt."

And the way you're clenching around him tells him that you're ready to receive more of him. His other hand finds the lower plush of your abdomen, and he pushes down so he can physically feel his cock twitch as he spurts his hot, potent seed into you. He gives you some more final thrusts for good fucking measure, making sure it's nice and deep for your aching, hungry, and fertile womb, and he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Such a good girl, princess. Again?"

[poomphuripan]

Director Pepzi Banchorn Vorasataree - iQIYI Exclusive Interview Transcript

[What makes 'My Stand-In' special?]

Pepzi: The uniqueness of this series lies in my perspective of it being a youth drama. However, it's the kind of youth drama that's like... So typically youth dramas should be bright, simple and straightforward right? But this youth series has real drama and delves into the intricacies of life and emotions. It has these life stories that makes me feel like... Like about a painful youth which makes me think that having a series like this would be very interesting. Because the series not only portrays the mundane aspects of life but also adds a touch of fantasy, not in the sense of envisioning a futuristic fantasy, but rather, revolving around life's themes. I find these elements fascinating.

[What are some challenges you face as Thailand's first female Y Series (LGBTQIA+ series) director?]

Pepzi: Some refer to me as the "mother of LGBTQIA+ dramas," but not for any specific reason though but it's because I'm the only few [female directors]. Everyone else is typically called something like "father of...". With a BL series foundation, people often express delight in the fact that I make Y series, that I understand the NC scenes, and grasp the dynamics and critical scenes between same-sex characters. However, I'd like to emphasize that, my starting point/intention is that I always love to direct a love story, whether it involves same-sex or other relationships, the base of it has to be a love story. I believe that, once we have understood love, whether it's BL with men loving men or women loving women or men loving women, ultimately, they all share the same foundation being love stories [regardless of gender]. As long as we understand love enough, and perhaps it's also because of my age [re: personal experiences], I have seen been able to see various forms of love, which have evolved over different stages of my life. Therefore, to me, directing LGBTQ+ dramas is just like directing another form of love story. Each of my works revolves around love. Thus, I don't differentiate between whether it's a Y series or not.

[Why did you decide to direct "Stand-in"?]

Pepzi: The opportunity to direct "My Stand-In" arose when I met Ms. Yuan, (the CEO) of YYDS. YYDS wanted me... so they initially reached out to me, however, at that time, I was quite exhausted and looking forward to taking a break. Cause like your body/health after working on four, five series... Actually during the pandemic, I had been involved in numerous projects without any rest or travel. Until one day, I decided to take a break. I rested for several months without working, without taking on any new works. Then when Yuan contacted me again, I even told her I would only consider it after hearing the plot. I was planning to decline if it didn't pique my interest. Because I'm at that age where I should just rest. Later, I told her I wanted to meet and see the content. Ultimately, when we met and Yuan showed me the Chinese script translated in Thai, I realized it was a really interesting/fun story. The storyline was so compelling that it drew me, someone who was on a break, back to work. At that point, I had only read the plot. It wasn't until later that I found out it was based on a popular Chinese novel with millions of views. Honestly, while reading the novel, I found the storyline truly remarkable and felt compelled to direct it. It was only later that I learned about its background story and the powerful narrative it held.

[What gives you confidence in this series?]

Pepzi: First, upon receiving the plot, I thought the original Chinese version was so good. But I knew we would have to adapt storyline to make a Thai version (re:suit the Thai audience), and we had a conversation with the Chinese scriptwriters right at the beginning to ask for permission in order to make adjustments if they wanted me to make this. If they wanted me to direct, they had to trust my abilities, choices, and decisions. We had to localize the storyline to fit the Thai context. Eventually, after discussions with the original Chinese author (Shui Qian Cheng), who agreed to the adaptation adjustments, we moved forward. Every time we make a change, we would thoroughly discussed between both parties. I felt that the fact that everything proceeded smoothly from the outset was an excellent sign. Plus, being given the freedom to select the cast based on my aesthetic preferences or the vibes of the series was empowering. However, every decision I made was preceded by discussions with the team so it felt like this drama is good in all aspects. I believe that this is a BL or Y series where we really chose the main characters based on the storyline. Meaning, we looked for actors suitable for the roles according to the plot, and the result turned out great, just like it is now.

[What are the differences between the TV series and the novel?]

Pepzi: The structure is similar, but we made some changes to the context to make it more suitable for a Thai audience. It's not just about incorporating into Thai culture, but including the lifestyle or the way Thai people think and live. Because ultimately, this is a Thai series with the kind of plot geared towards a Thai audience so we believe that most of the viewers will be Thai. But we also trust that the Thai people perspectives can resonate globally. Changes can be made, but we aim to preserve the fundamental cultural aspects of Thailand.

[How is the director's job, and what's special about it?]

Pepzi: One aspect we paid particular attention to is the action scenes. While I can direct action scenes, some crucial segments required additional assistance to help me make those scenes look cool/badass. And the person who can make [those action scenes] look cool/badass is THE Kongkiat Komesiri, or P'Khom. I've known Kongkiat for a long time, over ten years. Kongkiat offered to help designing some action scenes or pivotal moments in the series. In this series, there's also a crew that many others may not know much about but it's the stunt crew team. For the stunt team of this series, Ja is responsible for/lead of the crew. P'Ja is Jeeja Yanin, I don't know if we're born in the same year (re: if we're the same age) or not. P'Ja came to help oversee our stunt, action and fight sequences and even the training of the actors. Since this series is related to stunt doubles, we aimed to gather the most talented individuals in every aspect within our capabilities. So I feel like everyone involved that we've been able to gather are people who are skilled in their respective fields. From my perspective, I've already done my best and everyone else also brings their best. So I feel like the entire team is... If it's someone in the production industry, they'd know that to be able to do that is pretty amazing.

[Why must it be Up and Poom?]

Pepzi: Why Up and Poom? Initially, we were looking for Ming and Joe. We had to find Ming and Joe. After an analysis, we found it quite challenging. So, we started with Joe. Joe's character is a stunt double, the top one in Thai martial arts dramas. He had to be handsome because he would be doubling for the hottest stars, and his acting skills needed to be top-notch. He also had to convey emotions well and be disciplined. We were searching very hard. In the end, nearly 400 actors wanted to play Joe. And I was the person who watched everyone who auditioned. We auditioned everyone, then matched and paired them up until we finally found that... we chose Up and we chose Poom. And I dare say here that on the day we made our decision, Poom wasn't necessarily the actor with best acting skill among the 400. But for me, Poom is the person who resembled Joe the most. After selecting Poom, I told him to put in more effort. I felt like I really hoped the audience would give him a chance. He wasn't someone with prior fame or popularity, but Poom is a talented actor. Because Poom had really stepped into the role/embodied his role as Joe and that Joe is the most perfect version of Joe for me.

As for Up, once we found our Joe... Actually we found our Ming first but Ming was even harder to find than Joe because he had to be born into wealth, things which we couldn't fabricate. Right? Moreover, he had to be a skilled actor because he needed to portray depth. As a top executive of a company, who had to be secretly in love with someone, someone his sister loves, and he had to back off. Then, he accidentally falls for someone else. That accidental entanglement turns out to the biggest true love of his life. We auditioned numerous people, including celebrities. Many, many people. Ultimately, it was a gut feeling, perhaps intuition? I really saw shades of Ming in Up. They resembled each other. And then Up actually came to audition. But I'm very grateful to Yuan because one day Yuan went to talk to Up saying that Pepzi's simple request was for Up to come for an audition because I wanted to see if Up was really (suitable for) that character. So Up really came to the audition. It was the first tape audition, then finally, we started looking for someone who could pair well with Up. And it took many steps before Up and Poom became our Ming and Joe.

[What do actors need to prepare to become their characters?]

Pepzi: Mostly, it was a LOT workshops but there's also many types of workshops and we have to differentiate between them. So especially for Poom, there were many workshops. We'd have a regular acting workshop, like an acting workshop between Up and Poom for them to work on their emotional scenes together. But Poom also has a separate workshop to handle stunt sequences due to his character's profession as a stunt double. Poom really had a lot of these action workshops and he worked diligently in all of them. His positions/stunt sequences he showed were really good. Shoutout to the instructors and the crew of P'Jeeja for this. Additionally, there's one last workshop and it's the intemacy workshop for the intimate scenes. Ultimately, despite containing mature content, the foundation of these scenes is love. Both actors trusted us, and we conducted rehearsals for intimate scenes beforehand. We're thankful for their cooperation and trust, and their compatibility was evident from the first shoot. This series is filled with love, not lust, but love. That's why there were those scenes. Yea, so much thanks to them.

[From day one to today, what have you seen in the actors?]

Pepzi: I've been able to witness their development as actors when they're playing these characters. Like I've said previously, we chose them because we saw Ming and Joe in them. But as they continued to portray the roles, I dare say that they are truly the actual Ming and Joe. They are the reason why I need to thank God even more for validating our decision that day. Because from what they've shown us, our decision that day was correct and it's becoming more apparent. And one more thing, I want to thank these two people for really embodying their characters and putting in immense effort to get into these roles. This is the transformation we've seen. They not only improved as actors but also became the characters themselves, like embodying their essence.

[Are you satisfied with the work after months of filming?]

Pepzi: To be honest, just like the audience, I'm eager to see it. However, we know the storyline because we're the ones arranging the plot's sequence, and I'm also responsible for editing in the post-production phase. Honestly, if I may say so without sounding conceited, I believe I gave it my all. Everyone worked diligently, and while it may not be 100% perfect for others, for us, bringing together everyone's strengths, we're not ashamed to say and we're always ready for others to see and critique.

[What were the difficulties in making this series?]

Pepzi: The difficulty was the action scenes and the drama. But both boys performed exceptionally well. I'm really thankful to them, especially with the blocking of scenes.

[What were the challenges of this script/story?]

Pepzi: The challenge of this series is making viewers believe in our protagonist's guiding storyline. This story with a male lead who I dare say that it's a character who the audience must curse at while watching. I believe some viewers will be upset, and there are certain plot points that some may not like. But like I've said, Ming is just human; he also has unlikable aspects (t/n: the exact term Pepzi used is that Ming has a few 'not so cute' aspect). However, Up's portrayal of Ming convinces us. When it airs, some people may criticize him because his character truly destestable and deserves all these the curses, but it's also important to emphasize that Up fearlessly played this role without fear of losing his image. And so I'm genuinely grateful and thankful if Up['s character] receives criticism afterward, because it's also a recognition that he plays Ming so accurately and well. Everyone please save Up.

[Most difficult and favorite scenes]

Pepzi: The NC scene when they first met. For me, it was difficult because of the blocking for that scene and I'm the person who did the blocking myself. Feeling of enjoyment from my own work. Because the starting point is this initial spark of love from the staircase, then to the room, and then we also incorporated the raining effect while the actors have to perform the NC scenes with multiple blockings. In order for an NC scene to be beautiful, not only does it require the actors' emotions but also the right blockings and the right camera work. It's a challenge for the actors and everyone involved, but I believe the results will be great, and indeed, they've been showcased exceptionally well. There may also be complaints. For my favorite scene... Actually my favorite scene is also an NC scene. However, it's an NC near the end of the series... Because as I've said before, and I have emphasized this repeatedly to the actors that these [NC] scenes aren't just for shock value (t/n: exact term Pepzi used is that these NC scenes do not exist "simply for the viewers to drive their ships"); the specific reason is to depict the love between the characters over time. The plot spans two lifetimes, from the previous one to the current, and it's necessary to complete this love story. For the last NC scene, since I'm the person who designed every action for it, I felt like there were lots of moments that make go... [squeals] There were some shy moments, but in the end, everything stems from love. The two actors also have great chemistry, and for me, and for me, it all turned into beautiful scenes. I thank them very much.

[Explain the name of title "My Stand-in"]

Pepzi: A stand-in is like a substitute. We used a particular person as a substitute for someone else. In the storyline, Joe substitutes for everything three times. The first time, he's a stunt double, a profession on its own. But being a stuntman means it's the profession where Joe willing becomes another star's stand-in. What does this mean? Even there's fame, it belongs to the star, not the substitute. That's the first time being a stand-in. Later on, the second stand-in occurs when he suddenly has a lover who only likes him from behind because his back looks like that of the star. So, Joe is a stand-in, a stand-in again for love. The third time, Joe himself dies and is reborn. Not reborn as a new person, but being transformed into someone else's body. Finally, he circles around until he returns back again to his old life. I think this kind of substitute is his own substitute. It's the third time being a stand-in. So, this series represents Joe being substituting for many aspects.

[Expectations for this drama]

Pepzi: I only hope the viewers watching the series will see the dedication of all the actors as well as the staff. Regarding ratings and... what do they call it?... ahh Twitter trends and things like that, honestly, as a person who works on the series, I can say it without being embarassment that we want it to be high too since it's normal that everyone hopes for that as it's one metric to gauge the quality of this series. But actually more importantly for me, the buzz on Twitter should come from a genuine liking of the series from the viewers' hearts. After watching it, if everyone genuinely falls in love with this series, as creators, we naturally anticipate feedback from the audience. Whether it's praise or criticism, we're happy. But as I've said, I've given my all to showcase our best work for everyone to see.

[Recommend "My Stand-In" to everyone]

Pepzi: Thank you all. Both the actors and the staff have put their best talents into this series. I want the audience to see this as well. I want the audience to see this as well. Please pay more attention to My Stand-In. You can watch it on IQIYI Original. I really hope everyone, as I said, to see that all the staff have put their best talents into this series. We're really eager for everyone to watch it. Whether you like it or not, everyone can comment. We're very proud to introduce this series as really good. You must watch it!

You can watch the original interview here with iQIYI VIP.

[vixeneptune]

2024 : MANIFESTED ALL MY DESIRES IN ONE YEAR

Part 2

Love life :

I'm having the best relationship this year! It's literally the healthiest relationship I've ever been in, its even beyond what I imagined! I literally met my perfect match our compatibility is off the chartsss we're so perfect together. He's def my soulmate we get eachother so well without even speaking. It's amazing how much fun we have together , it's so lighthearted yet deep , it's transparent and beautiful and pure. Ugh our love is so powerful! He treats me so well he spoils me all the time like I'm his princess all I do is just exist and he's like "omg goddess I'm obsessed with you". Not to mention he's so loyal, honest, generous, kind, masculine, secure, handsome, rich, he provides for me endlessly, he makes me laugh, I feel so comfortable and safe, our dynamic is the best I feel so grateful and he feels the same. This is literally one of the biggest highlights for me this year 😍 a love so powerful, passionate yet peaceful and uplifting. Marriage is def around the corner!

Social Life :

My popularity increased so much this year! Everyone seems to wanna be either my lover or my friend! Ig bc I've been focusing on myself and my life everyone is so magnetically attracted to me! I made some really amazing solid friendships this year ♡ I feel so blessed to have such good genuine friends who share my interests! It's amazing how much my social circle expanded this year I've def been getting out of my comfort zone and feeling much more extroverted, outgoing and confident socialising and connecting easily with others! I'm so charming and pretty and smart that people fall in love with me easily, I'm so easy to love, I lost count of how many love confessions I got this year! So many men interested in me and pursuing me, I'm literally everyone crush this year! I'm such a people magnet, my aura is so attractive and magnetic people find me so interesting and fascinating! Im not only pretty but i have a great personality, the best energy, and a beautiful rich mind and soul, that's why everyone is so drawn to me. I'm so good at relationships , I'm consistent, secure, open to give and receive. It's easy for me to maintain relationships and allow them to grow and flourish naturally and beautifully! I feel so blessed to be surrounded by supportive loving trustworthy people who understand me and want the best for me, they truly care about me. I love how comfortable I am meeting new people and forming genuine deep connections, it's so natural for me. Everyone is so sweet and kind to me, they treat me so well, they buy me gifts ,they constantly spoil me with love and attention ,they see my worth and value.

Extras :

I'm such a money magnet! I'm making sooo much money this year it's crazy it's like money is obsessed with me lol. A high value expensive woman like me deserves the best and attracts the best always ♡ I'm treated like VIP everywhere I go. My energy is so powerful it shakes every room I enter, I'm easily the center of attention cuz w my charismatic presence, everyone's eyes are hooked on me they're so infatuated w my beauty. My aura radiates abundance , security and confidence, I'm so calm and secure which makes me naturally the most confident girl in the room. My confidence, my charm, my popularity and my charisma increased dramatically this year! I'm fully tapped in my inner siren inner goddess energy this year and it SHOWS. My sex appeal and my beauty is beyond compare. I'm known as the it girl and everyone is inspired by me and thinks of me constantly, they're waiting on my every move bc im so iconic and such a trendsetter. I put myself out there and I succeed everytime without a doubt. I'm born to be seen I'm such a star girl ☆

For my 2024 subliminal visit my YouTube channel kali777

[nonranghaes]

heads up! not very inclusive because (fem!)reader is written to have slightly wavy/veryyyy loosely curly hair in this fic :( sorry!! also vague references to sex but 0 depictions of any sort, joshy is just touchy lol

"joshua, oh my god."

ever since you came home from your hair appointment, joshua hasn't stopped touching you. it isn't in any sort of teasing way, trying to goad you into something you definitely do not have time for (you have places to go! things to do! maybe later), but this cute fascination with seeing you with short hair in-person for the first time. you've always been terrible at keeping up with haircuts and whatnot, plus you learned how to take care of the ends a little. for the past almost-year, joshua has seen you with your hair in a ponytail once it grew out enough. and now...

now he won't leave you alone, fingers running through your hair as he giggles to himself. you found a new hairdresser after the miserable last appointment you had (truly, you hate people who are gross about not giving women the short haircut they ask for), and you've finally restored yourself back to the shorter cut you had during undergrad. thank you, people who listen. you owe them your life.

"i can't help it! i've only seen this in pictures," he giggles again, eyes twinkling. "i always wanted to see how it felt. it's cute. you look happier, too."

because you are happier. some people would cry if forced to cut their hair short, and they're fair for that--but you? you've never liked having your hair too long. anytime it started getting past your shoulders was a sign that you were long overdue for a haircut. the ponytail you'd been sporting was just the result of you putting off finding someone new after the last shitty haircut.

"you remind me of jeonghan," he hums. "remember the time he decided to cut his hair?"

you did. joshua went with him because jeonghan wanted someone to record the process, and you saw how giddy jeonghan looked when he was allowed to chop off some of the longer locks. he looked ethereal with longer hair, but you understood that endless glee: sometimes a haircut could be so freeing in a way you couldn't describe. that's what it was like today for you: the moment the lady had started cutting, you felt healed in this way you couldn't fully put into words. like you were yourself again. goodbye, ponytails.

"why don't you go play with his hair, then?"

"maybe i will," joshua chuckles, planting a kiss against your lips. he leans back for a moment, only to reach into his pocket and snap a picture of you, messy-haired due to his endless fiddling. "alright... now i'll fix it for you."

"oh, thank you," you roll your eyes, "i'm so grateful, my handsome hero--"

and so he dives forward instead, pulling you in to kiss you quick.

[nitrateglow]

Spooky Season 2024: 12-22

Phantom of the Mall: Eric's Revenge (dir. Richard Friedman, 1989)

The opening of the new mall is hampered by one thing: a Phantom hiding in the air vents, and committing robbery and murder. It turns out this Phantom is really a teenager named Eric (Derek Rydall) disfigured in a fire set by the mall's developers to clear out any remaining houses impeding their dreams of commercial development. Now, Eric plans on having his revenge and watching over his girlfriend Melody (Kari Whitman), now an employee of the mall. But what will he make of her burgeoning romance with a journalist?

Talk about pure '80s cheese. This film feels like it was made to capitalize on the slasher cycle and the popularity of the Andrew Lloyd Weber Phantom of the Opera megamusical. It's not a particularly good movie, but it is dumb fun. I love how this Phantom makes free use of the goods available in the stores and how he spams his spin kick attack like he's in a video game.

Also, Pauly Shore is in this. He has a great scene talking about subliminal messaging in department stores, but is otherwise the usual Pauly Shore.

Hangover Square (dir. John Brahm, 1945)

Musician George Harvey Bone (Laird Cregar) is disturbed by long sessions in which he blacks out. He fears he may be committing murder, but is reassured by the police when he goes to them that isn't likely. Detective Dr. Allen Middleton (George Saunders) advises the overworked George take a break from composing. George does so by going to a pub where he meets the lovely Netta Longdon (Linda Darnell), a music hall entertainer who dreams of fame. George and Netta enter into a toxic relationship in which she uses him to advance her career while seeing other men on the side. When George discovers her treachery, his blackouts return-- this time in a far more violent form.

I'm starting to become fascinated by John Brahm, a director best remembered for his moody, macabre dramas in the 1940s. Hangover Square was his second and final collaboration with the talented but doomed Laird Cregar, who died two months before the film was released. It's as much a noir as a horror picture, drenched in that chiaroscuro lighting and urban dread so common to the classic cycle.

Cregar is astonishing in the lead role. Though handsome, he was a bigger man, so Hollywood refused to allow him to transition into leading man parts. He is marvelous here, passionate and sensitive, yet also sinister once his jealous rage takes over. I've seen Cregar in multiple films and he was truly fantastic, able to be comic as well as dramatic. Hollywood didn't deserve him.

Lastly, Linda Darnell's character sings this really catchy song when Cregar first sees her. I saw this film weeks ago but it is STILL STUCK IN MY HEAD.

The Sealed Room (dir. DW Griffith, 1909)

In some nondescript time period (everyone's dressed like it's either the early 18th century or the middle ages), a king (Arthur V. Johnson) learns his mistress (Marion Leonard) is smooching with a musician (Henry B. Walthall). Jealous to the point of rage, he has the couple sealed in a small room where they suffocate to death.

The Sealed Room is a gem from the nickelodeon era, though I admit my liking for it comes from how extra all the performances are, even by the standards of the early silent period.

It also has one of my favorite instances of what I like to call "silent film logic"-- that is, scenes featuring action that would be very loud in real life, but in a silent film, you may not think about it as much. Here, the king has the lovers walled up alive in a small room, where they lounge unaware. And yet, there's workers slapping up a brick wall not ten feet away from them! It's very amusing.

Frankenhooker (dir. Frank Henenlotter, 1990)

When his girlfriend Elizabeth (Patty Mullen) gets hacked to death by an automatic lawnmower he built, medical student Jeffrey (James Lorinz) decides to resurrect her by killing sex workers for their shapely body parts then sewing Elizabeth's severed head on top. He does this by having his victims smoke explosive crack.

No, I'm not making this up.

I first heard about Frankenhooker from James Rolfe of Angry Video Game Nerd fame. It sounded so insane that I knew I had to watch it. It's-- well, it's definitely a bizarre movie with lots of crude humor and pitch black jokes.

Would you believe me if I said it was kind of an unsung feminist work? I definitely did not expect THAT angle coming in, but that messaging is definitely there. Jeffrey is a villain-protagonist through and through, even before he starts committing murder. We learn he was already demanding Elizabeth modify her appearance to suit his tastes before she got killed. He views women as more a collection of body parts than proper people. However, his misogyny does catch up with him in the end and his fate at the resurrected Elizabeth's hands is the very definition of irony. I don't want to spoil it.

It's definitely not for everyone, but if you have a sick sense of humor and some friends that share that humor, you'll have a good time.

Friday the 13th: Part 2 (dir. Steve Miner, 1981)

A summer camp close to the infamous Camp Crystal Lake is about to open. Little do the young, horny counselors know, Jason (Warrington Gillette and Steve Daskewicz)-- the boy that allegedly drowned long ago-- is still alive and he's mad his mama got decapitated in the previous film. Lots of people die.

I confess I have a hard time getting into these Friday the 13th films. I've read it took a few entries for the series to find its footing as gloriously dumb schlock, but the first one and this sequel were mostly boring for me. About all I liked was the last twenty minutes, when the heroine's background in child psychology comes into play. Otherwise, this gets a big meh from me. Not horrible, but nothing I can imagine I'll ever rewatch.

Corridor of Mirrors (dir. Terence Young, 1948)

A party girl (Edana Romney) becomes involved with a Renaissance era-obessed artist (Eric Portman). Their fetishistic relationship leads to heartbreak and murder.

Already discussed this one is great detail at my Wordpress blog. It's a great romantic thriller in the vein of Vertigo and Rebecca.

The Old Dark House (dir. James Whale, 1932)

During a thunderstorm, a group of unwary British travelers are marooned at the crumbling mansion of the Femm family, a collection of eccentrics who may be insane. Everything goes wrong: the hulking butler gets drunk and preys on the women visitors, the area may flood, the lights go out, and there may be a homicidal maniac imprisoned in one of the rooms upstairs. Will anyone survive the night?

I have raved about this film for a long time now. It's truly a favorite of mine in general, not just for the Halloween season. Both witty and chilling, it's an atmospheric masterpiece. The damp and mold are palpable.

What fascinates me most is the Femm family itself and the gaps in their backstory. This is one movie where I feel like there's a Tolstoyan novel's worth of drama with the Femms. It's hinted that the 102-year-old patriarch of the house (played in drag by actress Elspeth Dudgeon) used to host orgies there. The death of the seductive sister Rebecca at the age of 21 may or may not have been due to inter-family foul play. Morgan the butler has a close, even weirdly tender relationship with the homicidally insane brother Saul, suggesting a myriad of possible connections between them. It's very interesting-- I like that the movie doesn't fill in all the blanks.

A Game of Death (dir. Robert Wise, 1945)

Don Rainsford (John Loder), big game hunter extraordinaire, finds himself shipwrecked on a mysterious island. The owner is Erich Kriegler (Edgar Barrier), an urbane German who also enjoys hunting, though with a slight difference-- he likes hunting humans. Teaming up with other shipwreck survivors Ellen (Audrey Long) and Robert (Russell Wade), Don tries finding a way to escape before they become Kriegler's next wall trophies.

This movie is a pallid, watered down, shot-for-shot remake of The Most Dangerous Game, one of the crown jewels of 1930s horror, so of course, I am not fond of it. And yet, I rewatch it every few years, so it must have something going for it. So instead of tearing into it as I normally do, I'll list a few things I think are actually good about it:

I like that the main character initially tries tricking Kriegler into thinking he will hunt people with him. Very pro-active.

I think Kriegler is a good villain. Not as memorably deranged and campy as Leslie Banks' Zaroff in the original film, but chilling in a more low-key way. His "the strong deserve to prey upon the weak" philosophy fits in nicely with Nazi ideologies-- no doubt what this wartime horror flick intended.

Um... I think Audrey Long is really pretty. I like her flow-y outfits.

... Yeah, that's it.

The Most Dangerous Game (dir. Ernest B. Schoedsack and Irving Pichel, 1932)

All-American big game hunter Bob Rainsford (Joel McCrea) is shipwrecked on the unlisted island of Count Zaroff (Leslie Banks), a Russian aristocrat and master sportsman who claims he now hunts "the most dangerous game" of all. Being a himbo, it takes Bob a while before he realizes that game is human beings. Unwilling to hunt alongside Zaroff when given the offer, Rainsford and fellow prisoner Eve Trowbridge (Fay Wray) wage a game with Zaroff: let loose into the island's thick jungle, if they survive the night without Zaroff or the terrain killing them, they'll go free. If not, Rainsford dies and Eve will become a rather different kind of quarry for the evil count.

Now, here's my favorite "hunter hunts people" movie! While "The Most Dangerous Game" has been adapted and ripped off multiple times for a century, the original is still hard to beat. The castle set drips with gothic grandeur. The jungle soundstage is thick and suffocating, and once the chase intensifies, it becomes like something out of a nightmare.

I actually think the climactic hunt is among the greatest sequences in all cinema. The editing is so dynamic and the images are brilliant. And when you consider this is still an early talkie, when films were still trying to rediscover their footing after silent cinema came to an end, it becomes even more remarkable.

Going on Letterboxd, I was shocked to find a lot of people on there have mixed to negative opinions about this movie, largely because they think it's too over the top and that it's messaging is too on the nose.

I mean-- yes, these things are true, but I don't see them as flaws. It probably helps that I love camp and melodrama, and am not ashamed to admit it. And regardless of the fervent camp on display, I still think the trophy room scene is creepy and the chase is super intense. I have probably seen this movie close to a hundred times and yet, the chase still has me shouting at the TV, willing the characters to run faster. That's damn fine filmmaking.

The Haunting (dir. Robert Wise, 1963)

A researcher of the paranormal brings a motley crew of ordinary people into the allegedly haunted Hill House. Both potential ghosts and the neuroses of the visitors bring on sinister events and ultimately tragedy.

I love this movie more and more. I already wrote a bit about my reaction this time around, though since then, I started rereading the source novel, Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House. Obviously, the book delves more deeply into Eleanor's psyche, but the film does a fantastic job of this as well. Given film is a visual medium, it can be a challenge to depict a character's interior state without delving into expressionism and this film does that well.

The Phantom of the Opera (dir. Terence Fisher, 1962)

Aspiring songstress Christine Charles (Heather Sears) and producer Harry Hunter (Edward de Souza) are drawn into a mystery at the London Opera House. A phantom is sabotaging any attempt to produce Joan of Arc: A Tragedy, a show allegedly written by the cold, snobby, rapey Lord Ambrose (Michael Gough). After some investigating, it turns out the Phantom (Herbert Lom) was once the meek-mannered Professor Petrie, whose music was stolen by Ambrose. Now, he wants only to see his opera done justice and only Christine's voice can make that happen.

I am very fond of this version of The Phantom of the Opera even though I think it has a myriad of dramatic flaws. Let's get the flaws out the way first. I think the film is a bit repetitive in retelling us Petrie's story over and over, at first through onscreen description and then through filmed depiction. I also think the ending is anti-climactic, like the writers didn't want to go the usual route of making the Phantom a homicidal maniac but they weren't sure how to make a properly dramatic finish without that characterization.

That out the way, this is a unique, even refreshing retelling in many ways. The Phantom/Christine relationship is no longer one of unrequited love-- in fact, Petrie seems wholly uninterested in romance or sex at all. He views Christine and himself as victims of the truly despicable Lord Ambrose: Petrie had his music stolen and Christine was sexually harrassed. Therefore, it is up to the two of them to wrest the opera back from Amrbose's influence and make it the production Petrie wanted. Petrie is one hard taskmaster. He is relentless in training Christine and at one point throws filthy sewer-water in her face when she faints.

But the Phantom is hardly an out and out villain here. He doesn't even kill people-- he has a convenient hunchbacked assistant to do that. No, the real baddie is Ambrose, among the nastiest villains in the Hammer canon. Ambrose never even kills anyone, yet he makes the blood boil with his wanton cruelty. Michael Gough (who I always remember best as Alfred in the Tim Burton Batman movies, as well as Batman Forever and Batman and Robin) is so good at being bad.

This version of POTO also has my favorite version of the Phantom's compositions. Usually, he writes a "burning" piece called Don Juan Triumphant, fitting his romantic obsession with Christine. Here, Petrie writes an opera about Joan of Arc, a virginal saint persecuted by powerful men-- a fitting subject for Petrie given his own persecution by an aristocrat. Joan's aria "I Hear Your Voice" is gorgeous and always brings me to tears, it's that beautiful.

Not a perfect film, but still a very good one.

[aihoshiino]

Hi there! This is from an ask from quite a while ago. I sent it before but I think Tumblr ate it once again.

"Honestly Ai's relationship with like, sex and intimacy and sex in the context of a loving relationship being healing and reclaiming for her is one of those things I have so much fun writing in the context of RP and stuff but if I continued rambling about it here I would go on all day lol and this post is already so long. IN ANOTHER ASK, PERHAPS ……."

I would like to hear your thoughts and ramblings about this please 人´∀｀)

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE ANON… I've been sitting on this ask for so long and I've had so many half finished responses to it written up kgjhhsfkg This is just one of those topics where I have so much to say every time I tried to start I got overwhelmed and didn't know where to start… BUT WE'RE SO BACK…!!!

(Also, this is basically part 2/a follow up to this post if anyone wants/needs some extra context)

Honestly Ai's relationship to sex and the role it plays in her character arc is one of the most fascinating parts of Oshi no Ko to me and I'm always really surprised that it basically never comes up in fandom discussions surrounding her? Part of that is just folks wanting to talk about/speculate more on the characters who are alive and present in the series (or have ship wars about them) but even when people DO go back and talk about her it tends to be kind of surface level or just, the worst takes you've ever seen in your life (if I never have to see another Secretly Evil Ai theory it will be too soon) but like… the sex stuff is also pretty surface level! That friction between Ai of B-Komachi's assumed obligate virginal purity and the reality of Ai Hoshino as a person who has had and desires sex basically IS the entire premise of the series. It's the core conflict around which so much of everything else revolves - it's the reason the twins have to keep quiet on their connection to her and moreover, it's the reason she dies. But honestly given how this fandom gets about sex sometimes maybe that's a blessing in disguise lol

It is SO refreshing to have a lead heroine like Ai, though - like I said, the reality of her as a person who has had Probably A Lot Of Sex is pretty much the premise of the series and at no point does the narrative ever take on a shaming tone towards her. Hell, the explicitly stated thesis of the story is that it's everyone who has a problem with this who should be ashamed. Gotanda literally says it himself - Ai's tragedy is the fault of the people who refused to accept her as the hurting, broken, dirty and impure person that the real her was.

In fact, the series is shockingly respectful of Ai and her body in general. This is very much a "the bar is in hell" moment but I'm so used to anime taking every opportunity it can get for lowbrow cumbrained fanservice that the series just being, like, normal about Ai was a breath of fresh fucking air. It's so easy to imagine an infinitely worse version of the series that uses Aqua's access to her body (as both Gorou and Aqua) to frame and leer at her in some really repulsive ways, but it literally never happens. It's one of those things the first chapter/episode does that earns it a lot of goodwill in the long run which it does honestly need lol. The initial premise of the series asks a lot of the viewer, especially given that Mushoku Tensei exists and very much does use the protagonist's plausibly deniable access to the bodies of women and girls around him for some truly putrid and degrading shit. BUT BACK TO MY ACTUAL POINT…

That pointed absence of shaming in the narrative is why it stands out to me so strongly when Ai does direct this kind of shaming language towards herself. Ai engages in a lot of negative self-talk in general because of how utterly pants her self-esteem is, but it's never quite as pointed as in these circumstances. Her death scene is honestly the best and most heartbreaking example of it - the anime trims a few slivers from it to the benefit of the scene as a whole imo, but it does retain the most important line:

But there's another part from slightly earlier on that didn't make it into the anime that equally breaks my heart:

All that Ai refutes of Ryosuke's words is his conclusion that she never cared about her fans. In other words, when Ryosuke slings slutshaming misogyny at her, Ai agrees with him.

And like… why wouldn't she? Society at large already has very strong opinions about women who have and enjoy sex and Ai is an idol - that's purity culture on Berserk Eclipse Difficulty. To make matters worse, Ai's entire life has been defined by her being denied the right to control her own body or being blamed for the way other people respond to it. Not only was Ayumi physically and emotionally abusive towards her for basically her whole life, but she also victim blamed her when her stepfather turned out to have a inappropriate interest in her. Even when she was literally a child, she was not allowed to simply exist without being subjected to other people's gaze and objectification.

It's also worth noting that the abuse Ai grew up experiencing - Ayumi's violence and neglect and living with the possibility of sexual assault at her stepfather's hands - are all things that can contribute to hypersexuality in puberty or at the very least, being prematurely sexually active and/or partaking in risky sexual behaviour and I think all of these are true for Ai as well, to varying degrees. My read has always been that the twins' father was not her first or only sexual partner (though he was her last) and I think this is something the work itself supports as well - Akane identifies Ai as having behavioral issues typical of someone who began having sex during puberty (and she does specifically say 'puberty' in Japanese, not just 'as a teen') but that this behaviour mostly tapered off by the time she was 15 and credits it by inference to Kamiki. So obviously, if the 'unbalanced behaviour' as the result of sex predates her meeting Kamiki… you know?

I also just personally find that a more compelling read of Ai for a variety of reasons - and it just sort of makes sense to me, to imagine her as this girl desperately trying to figure out how to love people, wanting to connect with people but not knowing how to do it, someone defined by the ways she contorts herself to respond to the dirty desires of the people around her… idk, it just feels Correct to me in light of everything to assume that she went through a few boyfriends before Kamiki, all relationships that went very fast, escalated to intimacy at light speed then just sort of fell apart after. And we know from what Ayumi admitted - and from some of the things Ai has said - that Ayumi absolutely was slutshaming and victim blaming Ai when she was in her care. So much of what Ayumi did to her forms the foundation of the present day Ai's self-loathing and self-image issues, so I imagine she felt a lot of prebaked guilt and shame when she did actually start having sex, especially at a young age and outside the bounds of a what society regards as an acceptable circumstance for a girl to be having sex. So add idol culture on top of all that, and…

I don't think Ai's relationship with sex is necessarily the main issue she struggles with but it does feed off and into a lot of the other things that cause her pain and being able to untangle that would represent an earthshattering breakthrough for her. This is why it's so important that Oshi no Ko never ones tries to debunk or disprove Ai's assertion that she is 'impure' or 'dirty' and why I do not think a positive character arc for her could never come from someone trying to convince her that she isn't. Because that doesn't actually disprove anything - it still frames purity and virginity as a state of grace that can be fallen from and reinforces Ai's view of herself that she only has value, that she only deserves to be treated with respect so long as she's still 'pure'. Even if you could convince her that she's 'pure', she would inevitably be stained again and hate herself all the more for it. The only way out is to break out of this method of thinking altogether, to realize that 'purity' and 'impurity' don't mean anything - and more importantly, that even though she is dirty, impure and all the rest of it, she is still capable and deserving of loving others and being loved in return.

To quote something I've said before on this topic: "Love, for Ai, is a person seeing her most wretched and unacceptable self, her self hate and avoidance and everything about her she thinks is filthy and wrong, and actively choosing to accept her as she is, warts and all. […] There's this very strong underlying current in Ai's arc of self-directed shame and self-hate in relation to her sexuality that fuels perception of herself as 'dirty' and 'impure' - all because she is a person who wants and enjoys sex. I really enjoy getting to have Ai work through that specific hangup with a partner who loves her - not from the angle of 'of course you're not dirty' but 'even if you are, I want you anyway'."

So much of what hurts Ai is other people refusing to accept 'Ai Hoshino' and even being actively repelled and repulsed by her, choosing instead to believe so fervently in the inhumanly perfect 'Ai of B-Komachi' that they convince themselves the real Ai is just a trick of the light. Sex is basically the ultimate refutation to that - it's someone saying they actively choose the dirty, broken real thing which is what Ai has desperately been searching for her entire life. It's also the inverse of the plastic. sanitized intimacy Ai sells as an idol - rather that pretty lies of love, it's dirty, physical intimacy, something she can do as much for herself as the person with her, something that can only ever be hers as Ai Hoshino because it's antithetical to everything Ai of B-Komachi is.

what i'm saying is: can this girl PLEASE get some good dick. i don't know how much of anything it would fix but it would make her calm down at least a little.

ALL JOKING ASIDE……. thank you again for your patience anon and i'm sorry this was so rambly lKNDKSCXSNDS. like i said up top, this is a topic i have a lot of thoughts on and i wanted to get them all out into this post. i hope this was interesting to read…!

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

medialog july 2k24

watched

the seven samurai - classic that holds up IMO!! like lawrence of arabia, one where you can see why basically every person to make a movie since cites it as a formative influence. lots of really beautiful shots but what really stood out to me was how human it felt - small scale but not in a way that means "minor," in a way that emphasizes that even the smallest of scales is everything to the people living it. every character feels so real and carries such a sense of a life lived, thanks to both the writing and the absolutely wonderful performances. it feels so empathetic and compassionate and warm even though it's ultimately a war movie - one of those movies where you get the sense a fundamental love for humanity is one of the animating creative impulses. also toshiro mifune, one of the hottest people ever to live, spends the back half of this movie, to quote nick, dressed like hercules with his ass hanging out and it's incredible.

tank girl - every single Look and Aesthetic in this movie is an absolute 100/10 and lori petty is a foul-mouthed delight, but wow was I not prepared for how much of this movie is about the discovery of a secret underground society of kangaroo people

read

megan whalen turner, the thief - a pair of friends of mine basically shoved this into my hands when i was at their apartment with the promise of great craft & an ending that goes crazy. the first in the series of six, this one is more or less a sturdy and fairly straightforward middle-grade adventure story, and while it was at times a little heavy on descriptions of the characters making their way across various types of terrain, overall my interest was sustained by a few things: a clean, deliberate writing style that washed me in nostalgia for the middle-grade classics of my own youth (which this could have been - it came out in 1996 - but somehow i never came across it); a setting deliberately out of any real historical time but clearly influenced in Vibes by (among other places) ancient greece, which contributed to the nostalgia; glimpses of a convincingly rendered mythology (and the fascinating choice, which continues throughout the series, to render the characters' occasional glimpses of the actual divine as more unsettling than anything else); and a wonderfully compelling set of characters, above all gen, the book's narrator and the series' central character (although not most of the books'), who as i said a while ago is a classic blend of clever, brave, and incredibly annoying to everyone he meets.

monique wittig, the straight mind - collection of essays by a french lesbian feminist/theorist i first heard of, to be very honest, because adele haenel was one of the panelists at an event at the local french bookstore and i wanted to see her in person, lmao. the first essay in the collection opens with a call to abolish the concept of sex, which is one of those claims i'm not sure i actually endorse or even fully understand but find really invigorating to read, all of which more or less applies to my experience of the collection as a whole (including the part where i was not sure i was always following it). i did particularly appreciate her interest as a writer (she was a novelist as well as a theorist) in language and the role it plays in upholding gender/the work of imagining a way to play a role in dismantling it. and i found her general rejection of "the myth of woman" quite bracing.

rick emerson, unmask alice: LSD, satanic panic, and the imposter behind the world's most notorious diaries - i heard about this book on an episode of you're wrong about before i stopped listening and it was in fact an incredibly entertaining and fascinating bit of light nonfiction about a truly bonkers episode in american publishing history. go ask alice is the obvious draw here, but a large chunk of the book is devoted to "editor" and professional liar beatrice sparks's follow-up, jay's journal, which emerson reveals to have, in fact, started as the actual diary of a suicidal teenager whose family entrusted it to her in the hopes that their dead son's pain might somehow be able to help other families prevent similarly tragic outcomes... only to have sparks expand his few dozen entries into a story of the absolute most insane satanic panic ground zero nonsense (this book predates michelle remembers!), but somehow leave in enough identifying details that everyone in the family's small mormon town knew exactly who it was about. truly truly monstrous and if emerson sometimes veers a little close painting sparks as a cartoon villain, it's honestly hard to blame him given how much time he spent contemplating this unbelievably heinous act.

courtney summers, i'm the girl - the simplest way to describe this book is to paraphrase the author in some interview i can't remember as a story about a girl who confuses beauty for power because that's what the world has told her is true; it's emotionally rough but highly readable, and as always i just so admire summers' lack of interest in morality tales or lessons learned, her keen understanding that having a sixteen-year-old being groomed come suddenly and fully into a perfect feminist analysis of what's happened to her would make the book more palatable to some but ultimately be a betrayal of the character she'd created. summers has alluded in her newsletter to this book, loosely based on research about the epstein/maxwell case & the testimony of their victims, closing the chapter on the first arc of her career as a writer - eight thorny, painful novels about interior lives of teenage girls struggling with themselves and the world they live in - and it feels like a fitting capstone, one that both calls on the skills she's developed over the years and feels like it digs even more deeply than the project into an area of interest that feels fitting for an author who started writing YA in her early 20s and is now in her late 30s, namely, how to write a book that makes space for real empathy with a young person naive enough - some might say, and indeed some have said, stupid enough - to be well and truly taken in? (and i think one of the smartest things the book does is foreground early on how badly its protagonist doesn't want to be thought of as stupid, which is part of what makes her vulnerable and part of what makes processing the reality of what's happening to her so difficult.) also, despite the fact that romance has never been a huge or simple part of summers's novels, she's always had a knack for crafting a YA dreamboat love interest, and as someone who it turns out was figuring out her sexuality in her 30s around the same time summers was - it was great to see her do it again but this time with a girl :)

ted chiang, exhalation - my friend recommended me this because i was looking to read more sci-fi short stories but running into my perennial problem with sci-fi which is that frequently the writing is bad. ted chiang is pretty good! i liked how much he clearly conceives of or intuits that form & story are one and the same - almost all the stories in this collection take the form of a document that has some in-world reason to exist, which keeps the style feeling fresh and which he often uses to merge character work & sci-fi concepts in a cool way (as in a story with the fascinating premise that creationism is real but earth is not god's favored planet). it was unfortunate that the longest story in the collection was by far my least favorite, being both the most subject to sci-fi bland prose disease and focused on a concept it is impossible for me to muster interest in (the ethics of digital sentience... they're pictures on a screen...). the last story, the only other one written in the third person, suffered a little stylistically as well, but made up for it with an INSANELY good premise, which is that it's a multiverse story focused on a variety of psychological challenges people might have in response to learning for sure parallel universes are real - there's a support group for people addicted to checking in on their parallel selves! that's the most awesome multiverse concept i have ever come across.

evelline adams, astrology for everyone - astrology got less fun when the ratio started shifting of people viewing it as A Fun Pretend Thing to people taking it very seriously, but i do retain the same aesthetic appreciation for the particular kitsch of vintage astrology writing that i did when i borrowed this from my friend several years ago.

patrick radden keefe, rogues: true stories of grifters, killers, rebels and crooks - a collection of 12 of keefe's new yorker #longreads that i read because (a) i liked empire of pain, his book on the sackler family, a lot (b) i'm trying to get back into my library ebook habit to keep me away from Scrolling and hopefully learn some things and substantive-but-still-easy-to-read journalistic nonfiction is my favorite genre for this purpose because i don't feel i lose anything by reading it in 5 minute snatches while waiting for the train, and (c) his other books had all the licenses checked out. anyway this gave me what i wanted! i think my favorite was the one about wine fraud just because i think wine fraud is funny because anyone shelling out crazy money on wine deserves to be scammed so it's basically a victimless crime. the book closes with his profile of anthony bourdain, which is a really lovely read although incredibly sad in retrospect because bourdain comes across as so full of life and would die the year after it was published.

megan whalen turner, the queen of attolia - book two in the series, and everything is growing up a bit, as we shift from an adventure story to a war story, from gen's narration to an expertly deployed omniscient/shifting third, and from an irrepressible protagonist to one Truly Going Through It. this book kicks off strong by opening with a set of circumstances that permanently and painfully changes gen's circumstances, and the question of how he's going to process this and move forward drives a lot of the emotional suspense of the book. it also upends our understanding of a character introduced in the first book en route to an absolutely insane romance that shouldn't work but in its quasi-mythical context absolutely does. i tend to prefer hard copies for fiction, but starting here and for every book after i got to the end and went straight to the library app so i could keep going.

megan whalen turner, the king of attolia - THIS BOOK SLAPS SO HARD IT'S UNBELIEVABLE!!!! at first you're like, WHY is the narration primarily focused on some random no-name member of the royal guard we have never met before? but then you realize it's so that the entire book can be propelled by the dramatic irony wherein we, readers of the series, know gen well at this point and also know exactly how and why things went down the way they did at the end of the last book, but almost no one else does and (partly because of the ways he is annoying) many assumptions are being made... so a lot of the "suspense" in this book comes from, like, when is this new guy's understanding of gen going to start aligning with ours? it's soooo cool and something i don't remember reading in a series before (although i don't read a ton of series), and this book is, like, relentlessly entertaining on its way to its insanely satisfying conclusion, and also contains two of the most romantic paragraphs i have read in my LIFE despite the fact that the couple they center on barely appears together in the book.

megan whalen turner, conspiracy of kings - we catch up with a character from the first book who's been having a rough go of it and now needs to toughen up a bit in response to his circumstances. i think as a novel this is maybe the weakest of the set but as a character i love my sweet baby sophos so much i would have read 500 more pages. also contains one of the DUDES ROCK scenes of all time.

megan whalen turner, thick as thieves - this one picks up with a minor character from book two that i was happy to see again, because he really punched above his weight in terms of interest. it kind of combines the adventure-story of the first book with the dramatic irony as suspense of the third, and both the narrator and the central dynamic between the two main characters are delightful. this book has the least gen of all the books and i did miss him but it was funny how intensely his whole Deal hung over the circumstances regardless, and also despite the fact that the ending of literally all of these books so far has involved the reveal of some five-dimensional chess magic trick, so to speak, and thus i knew logically it was coming, i once again found myself so swept up that i was fully :O when it all went down.

megan whalen turner, return of the thief - an incredibly satisfying ending to the series, even if it left me sad that it was over! as was often the case with these books, it was, like, so satisfying that part of me almost felt like it should feel like cheating... but it didn't and i was just so happy to be there rooting for all my close personal friends. also the narrator of this one is a new character who is both physically disabled and nonverbal, and a) i thought that was generally pretty cool and the way the text engaged with people underestimating him was interesting and b) the descriptions of him as a kid being fascinated by triangles & numerical patterns was THEE most endearing thing i have read in my life.

listened

willow, empathogen - i don't know why willow decided to put out the best tori amos record since scarlet's walk? but i'm glad she did, because this album rocks! (and, like, seriously, if you're a tori person, you owe it to yourself to check this out - the influence is strong and undeniable, IMO, and on its own merits the album sounds gorgeous and takes you on a rich and textured sonic journey, even if you do maybe get the sense that being the very rich daughter of two incredibly famous millionaires in the entertainment industry is an impediment towards having all that much to say as a lyricist.)

other

anna di resburgo - my friend had an extra ticket to a short-lived production of this, the only surviving bel canto opera by a woman (recently assembled for performance from its discovery in some archive). it was only her second aria and as per the program notes kind of flopped, possibly partly due to its thematic similarity with another opera first produced around the same time by donizetti, by then an acknowledged master of the form while di resburgo was a novice (she had previously composed one opera, which has since been lost, and none after, although iirc she did some other composition) (also disclaimer that i know very little about opera, like just barely enough for all that to kind of make sense to me lol). anyway the work is uneven and (as my friend pointed out) oftentimes the music, while pretty and sometimes interesting, is at odds tonally with the plot - the plot is in theory quite dramatic with life-or-death stakes but for much of the runtime the music feels more suited to a farce - and the libretto is... not a piece of well constructed drama overall or scene to scene or line by line (there are some, like, accidentally comical exposition dumps along the lines of "father, do you remember that mysterious orphan that showed up on our doorstep all those years ago?"). but it was not without its highlights, and we agreed that as a second outing it showed promise we wish the composer had received support for the way men with similarly Just Alright second operas did.

inwood shorts - we went with some friends (actually the same friend as above) to see some shorts by local filmmakers at a place in inwood with an incredible view of the river featuring on that day an unbelievably gorgeous sunset and while nothing really wowed me a nice time was had by all & there was a big laugh in the crowd when the guy in a short giving a little "tour of my neighborhood" schtick said "for a while i lived in this place upstate called yonkers." :)