#X-mas postcard

[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

Mistletoe Mini One Shots!

Primo: 

Primo, surprisingly, was all about kissing you under the mistletoe. He would always joke about how he was an old man now, his days of being rambunctious and partaking in such a childish activity we're far behind him. That being said, he never missed an opportunity to kiss you. He would grab you by the waist and pull you to him. "Belissima, I hope you know how much I cherish spending the holidays with you." He would always mutter something cute and meaningful to you. Yes, being his Prime Mover meant you had duties that needed to be filled, but to Primo you were so much more than that. You were this man's earth, moon, and stars and he would never let you forget that. You two would exchange hushed I love you's before Primo would capture your lips in a tender kiss, neither of you able to stop the smiles on your face.

Secundo: 

Secundo wasn't the most festive person but he was more than willing to participate in something silly if it meant making you happy. "My dove, you've kissed me a thousand times before, what about kissing under a plant makes you so giddy." He would chuckle at your excitement."

What? Do you not want to kiss me?" You would tease, grin growing as you held your hands behind your back and meandered closer to him

He clicks his tongue at you in response, "Tesoro, there is not a single second of the day that I wouldn't want to kiss you." He slides his hand gently across your cheek, thumb softly stroking your skin. "Is this what you want my dove? Would it make you happy for me to kiss you under the mistletoe?" The low, gravelly tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

"Please..." Was the only word you could mumble out. He lets out a small laugh at your doe eyed expression.

"I love you tesoro." Despite Secundo's cold exterior there was an undeniable warmth in his eyes as he looked down at you.

"I love you Papa." You return his warm gaze, both of you leaning in to share a sweet kiss.

Terzo: 

You let out an excited shriek as Terzo grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him, peppering your face with kisses. Unlike his brothers he was very enthusiastic about the holiday season. "Cara mia, don't you just love this time of year?" It has become a yearly tradition for you and your husband to get bundled up and go look at the decorations around the Abbey. Unlike his brothers, Terzo was all about celebrating the holidays. He loved cuddling with you by a warm fire, baking Christmas cookies, and going ice skating. Terzo was something straight out of a postcard this time of year, you loved getting to spend the holidays with him. "Is that mistletoe I see?" He asks with a devious smirk. You giggle, holding his face tenderly in your hands.

"Mistletoe or not, just kiss me you idiot." He happily obliges your request, lips crashing into yours in the skilled yet clumsy kiss you had fallen in love with. He holds you by the waist, lifting you from the floor and spinning you around as he kissed me.

"Ti voglio bene cara mia." He holds your chin gently between his fingers, allowing your gazes to linger on each other.

"Ti amo di più Papa." He holds you close, lips catching yours for another kiss.

Copia: 

"Amore mio, could you come here for a second?" You rose from your position on the sofa, where you were currently reading a book, to answer Copia's call from your shared bedroom. "Do you remember where we put my Santa costume? I have some gifts to bring down to the children's wing and I'd like to dress up for the occasion." He turns to you with a big smile, one of Copia's favorite traditions for the holidays was to deliver gifts to the children of the Abbey. You join him in the cramped closet to help him look.

"We definitely had a box of Christmas stuff in here somewhere from that photoshoot." You kneel next to him, digging all the way to the back until you find a box labeled X-Mas. You lugged it to the front and tore it open, Copia retrieving the Santa suit from the top. What lay underneath the red sea of fabric is what caught your eye. A single sprig of mistletoe, the same one that you held over your head last year to get him to kiss you for the first time. You lifted the plant gingerly from the box, holding it high over your head and looking up at Copia with wide, innocent eyes. He was saying something about how happy he was to find the suit, pausing halfway through when his eyes landed on you. His hand caressed the side of your face, lifting your chin so your eyes could meet his.

"You never fail to take my breath away with how beautiful you are amore Mio." The compliment came out shaky and nervous, a straight you had grown to find rather adorable from your Papa. You smiled as Copia's lips found yours, your arms wrapping around each other in a tender embrace.

Sodo: 

You couldn't stop the laughter that left you as Sodo held up what he was hiding behind his back. A plastic frog with a nerf bullet tied to its back with red ribbon. Sodo looked confused, his eyes switching between you and the frog. "What? Swiss told me to kiss you under the missile toad!"

"Mistletoe babe, the plant." You take his face in your hands, peppering his cheeks with kisses. "You're adorable, you know that?" The Ghoul blushes at your compliment. He suddenly pulls you to him, lips crashing against yours in a clumsy kiss. The missile toad later became an ornament for your Christmas tree.

Aether: 

You and Aether had been together for a couple months, your relationship still relatively new. Throughout the entire time you've been dating Aether's always been pretty shy about PDA. When you got caught under the mistletoe with him as you walked the halls of the Abbey he became incredibly flustered. "Aether, you don't have to kiss me if you don't want to." You reassure him, his cheeks burning.

"It's not that I don't want to kiss you baby, it's just… are you sure it's okay for us to kiss in front of all of these people?" He asks you nervously. You take his hand in yours.

"I'm incredibly proud to say you're my boyfriend Aeth. I'm glad all these people will see us together, that way they'll know you're all mine." You nudge him playfully, the two of you sharing a smile.

"I guess one little kiss couldn't hurt." He holds you tightly by your waist, lips joining yours for a short, sweet kiss.

Swiss: 

If there was one thing Swiss loves this time of year, it was mistletoe. He almost always had a sprig of the plant somewhere on his person. He'd walk you back to your dorm, having you flustered and giggling the entire way. "It was really nice getting to see you today." He'd grin widely at you, bending at the waist to be eye level with you.

"Careful, you'll have me thinking you have a crush on me or something." You wink at him, a teasing grin playing at your lips.

"Maybe I do have a crush on you or something." He shoots back the same smirk. Retrieving the mistletoe from his back pocket and holding it between your faces. "Wow, would you look at that mistletoe, how did that get there?" He says in a monotone voice. 'Would it be okay if I kissed you?" You nod with a giggle, the two of you slowly leaning in closer to each other. Swiss' lips ghosted over yours, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. After a few mind numbing seconds of him being just out of reach he finally deepened the kiss, gently cupping your face with one of his hands. The two of you separated with a breathless fit of giggles, both of you blushing messes. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

Rain: 

Getting caught under the mistletoe with Rain would be an absolute accident. This accident however just happened to coincide with the fact that you had a huge crush on Rain and he had an even bigger crush on you. Neither of you were aware of the other's feelings. But both of you had been dying to know what it would feel like to kiss each other. "Oh, hey, would you look at that?" Rain would clear his throat awkwardly, running the back of his neck.

"Do you want to, um…" you trail off, not brave enough to outright ask him. Rain takes a deep breath, one arm finding its way around your waist as the other slides into your hair. He crushes his lips against yours, causing you to stumble back slightly but he had a firm hold on you. You melted into him, arms sliding up his torso to wrap around his neck. 

"That was nice." He mumbles after your kiss broke. Your face was on fire, so was his from the looks of it. "Would you… would you want to go on a date with me sometime?" He asks, finding a sudden boost of confidence. You nod, smile growing on your face.

Mountain:

Your nose was cold as you wandered the garden, side by side with Mountain. You were in the midst of getting the garden set up for the Abbey's annual Yule market. "He said there was a display of kissing balls that needs to be put up."

"Kissing balls?" Mountain questions, the term obviously foreign to him.

"They're balls of mistletoe, two people are supposed to kiss when they are underneath one together." He lets out a solitary hum as the two of you continued on. It didn't take either of you long to find the display that needed to be set up. Mountain helped you hang all the kissing balls once you got to the upper rung of the rack. As you handed him the final one he looked between you and the plant. He places one finger under your chin, tilting your eyes up to meet his. He held the kissing ball in between the two of you, a smile growing on your lips. Your first kiss with Mountain was sweet and gentle, a nice contrast to his huling appearance. "You know, if you wanted to kiss me you could've just asked."

[kirathehyrulian]

🎄2022 SPN J2 XMAS GIFT EXCHANGE🎄

🎁Gift for Sammichgirl🎁

| SPN-J2-xmas | Ao3 Collection | (Please do not edit/alter. Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost. At the very least please give me credit.)

Title: 📦Doin’ Inventory📦 Gifter: @kirathehyrulian​ Giftee: @sammichgirl​ Pairing/Characters: Gencest + John Medium: Digital Art Rating: Gen Warnings: Bloody Postcards

Summary: Casing joints, whacking things, the family business

•Art notes, and WIP pics on the [AO3] post.

For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr or my AO3.

Late merry X-mas!♥ Enjoy, if you can!♥♥♥

[teyamsatan]

Midnight Rain II

Lo'ak x Omatikaya!reader

Warnings: angst

Word count: 2,2k words

Notes: i apologise for the enormous wait and thank you for being so patient with me, but i needed inspiration for this, and now I have it besties, and this will end up being three parts! enjoy x

Na'vi words used: ma 'ite - daughter; sa'nok - mother

previous part (x)

It came like a postcard, picture perfect, shiny family, holiday, peppermint candy

But for him it's every day, so I peered through a window, a deep portal, time travel

All the love we unravel, and the life I gave away

“Do you think you’ll ever want to settle down?” Lo’ak was staring far into the distance, and you ceased to follow suit at his words, your head snapping in his direction and taking in his beautiful features, his shaved head, only on one side - your doing, but he did lose a bet, so he couldn’t complain too much about it.

You looked at his eyes, that were flickering momentarily in your direction, noticing you in his periphery, trying to make it inconspicuous that he was not as nonchalant about the topic as he may appear at first glance. You looked at his ears, twitching in anticipation and his chest, that was expanding and dropping at a higher rate than what you knew it normally did, and at his skin that was glowing a little more intensely that it should as the sun hit it, probably due to the sheen layer of sweat now covering it.

You smiled a little at his nervousness, at his inability to just get it out, whatever it was that bothered him, that was on his mind - never honest, never direct, always trying to appear less interested, less invested, less caring than he actually was. In reality, Lo’ak was one of the most sensitive people you knew. Everything got to him, everything bothered him, because he cared. He cared and wanted people to care just as much as he did, deep down inside.

You turned your face to look at whatever it was he was looking at. It was beautiful, this place you found together, riding west 'til your ikran was so tired they were squeaking in pain, and you knew it was time to settle in for the night, at the edge of a cliff overlooking a long, noisy waterfall, with birds flying above the river it crashed into and hunting for some dinner. You hunted your own, which was now cooking on a fire, while you watched the sun set over the mountains. 

“Mm, I don’t know. Seems a bit boring and dooming, don’t you think?” You tried to hide the smirk in your tone. You needed to make him say what he wanted to say, and the only way to do that was to get him angry and frustrated. It was a painful method, but it always worked with Lo’ak. 

“Why would it be dooming?” His voice increased in pitch, and he coughed in an attempt to hide it. It was working. 

“I don’t know… the thought of spending your whole life with just one person, in just one place, doing the same few things everyday… that’s what being doomed looks like to me.” 

Lo’ak scoffed and turned around, fully facing you, his knee brushing up against your thigh. 

“You think finding your soulmate, finding someone to love and who would love you forever, unconditionally, regardless of how badly you fuck up, how messed up you are inside is dooming? You think the idea of belonging just to one person so fucking inconceivable?” 

You couldn’t stop the chuckle that blew past your lips and the way your body moved on its own and tackled your annoying, frustrating boyfriend, who could only be persuaded to confess through deceit and manipulation. Your body felt alive on top of his, like it belonged on him, with him, and you eyed him amusedly, watching as his frown dissipated, if only slightly. Your hand found his forehead, that it smoothed, and his eyes softened as they found yours, and knew he had been played. 

“You suck.” You laughed harder, throwing your head back, letting your braids tickle his neck and chin, and for the first time in your life, you were left breathless by a boy, by a pair of lips as they crashed into yours, by the promise of what they entailed, that you were scared of but wanted to know, wanted to experience for yourself, with him and only him.

It was fun and games - you and him. It always had been, since you were young. You were wild and he loved the thrill of being in your presence, loved being liberated. You laughed and you joked together, you found unspoken-for places in the world and untapped potentials in yourselves. Lo’ak was the outcast to everyone else, the untamed one in the eyes of the world, but to you, he was what grounded you, and you were what freed him. When you kissed him for the first time, a few months ago, you did it because you wanted to. You did because you were curious to know, you did it just to do it. Because you liked him, and you knew he loved you. But somehow, this guy you’ve known all your life managed to turn it around, managed to make you fall in love - make you into something you thought would shackle you, would ruin you, but now, as it happened, you didn’t feel any of those things. You just felt warm. 

“So, would you ever want to settle down?” 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. As long as it’s with you.” 

“Are you listening?” 

The little tap in your shoulder, combined with the words you didn’t expect to hear pulled you out of a dream, a memory, one far away now, too far to reach, evoking feelings in you never to be felt again. Because the feelings, and the memories, all had one common denominator - the boy you loved, that you gave up, whose heart you shattered, whose heart you craved more and more each day. 

"Yes. Sorry, Tarsem. Yes, we can do that tomorrow. I'll be here first thing, if that's alright with you."

"That's more than alright with me. You're my best warrior, it has to be."

You smiled gently at your new Olo'eyktan. He wasn't new, not anymore. But after 18 years of knowing just one person fulfil the role, it would take a long time for Tarsem to earn his stripes enough for Jake Sully to be replaced in your mind.

You bid him goodbye with a smile and a gestured "I see you", and left the tent without another word. You were surprised to see Mo'at at the entrance, but still, you greeted her warmly. You loved Mo'at. She was like a mother to you... or grandmother, but she hated feeling old, so you always called her sa'nok. You also called Neytiri sa'nok, so it got confusing sometimes.

"Ma' ite, are you finished with the Olo'eyktan?"

"Yes, sa'nok. He's free for you, if you wish."

"Actually, I wanted to speak to you."

You frowned a little at the confession. Mo'at never sought you out personally. She never had to. Especially since the Sullys left, she was the only family you had left... the only family she had left. You spent most of your free time with her, and so this rose suspicion in your mind and your heart rate in your chest.

"Is something wrong, ma sa'nok?"

She giggled at your troubled disposition.

"Does anything have to be wrong for me to want to talk to my erratic, harebrained... brave daughter?"

You rolled your eyes, but joined her in her laughter.

"No, but I was coming by your tent tonight anyway, so the fact that you came for me might mean there's something urgent."

"Come, help me back. I'm an old woman, you need to respect your elders, young lady."

"Yes, ma. So what is it?" It was nice and comfortable being with Mo'at. She has known you all your life, and somehow still loved you, and accepted you as one of her own after your parents both died - your dad in the war against the Sky People, your mother giving birth to you. She used to tell you were just like her, a maverick, a nightcrawler, a free spirit with little moral compass to point her North, at least until she met your father.

"Ma 'ite... are you happy?" It took a while for you to fall into step with her again after that, your body almost short-circuiting at her question. You had no problem lying, not only that - you were good at it. But not to her. You owed her too much. You frowned as you answered.

"I'm... happy to be able to help, sa'nok. Happy to fight the good fight, happy to be able to take care of you, and the clan."

"It's bad manners to lie to the people you love."

"I'm not ly-"

"You are. That much is clear. You haven't gone exploring in months. You. The most restless person I've ever had the misfortune to have under my care."

"It's been hard, sa'nok. The Sky Peo-"

"Never stopped you before."

There was a reason Mo'at was Tsa'hik. A reason she was the spiritual leader of the Omatikaya, a reason she was still here while so many others weren't.

"I'm sure he misses you too." she smiled slyly as you reached the tent and she turned around, taking your hands into hers. "No adventure is worth taking without the one that made it worthwhile to begin with, is it?"

You had no words to that, but the tears falling silently down your face were enough to say everything you couldn't, not out loud.

"I heard the weather's really nice in Awa'atlu this time of year. I don't think you've ever been, right? Maybe that should change."

Your mouth opened in shock at her words, at the blessing that you think you needed to hear, at a sign that maybe, despite all the heartbreak you left in your wake, there was still a chance for you to see him, a chance to try to see if a life with less freedom was still freeing in itself just by his presence alone, and a life with less to see was still everything because the world was in his eyes.

"Go. I'll talk to Tarsem tomorrow."

Your heart was thumping in your chest so hard, it felt like it was trying to break through your ribcage and escape, just so it could reach him faster than the rest of your body possibly ever could. But nevertheless, you got on your ikran in the dead of night and left, and you knew by the morning, everything would be different. Because it was clear now, as much as it needed to be, that just as Mo'at said, what always made your life fun wasn't the adventures, and the freedom, and the recklessness, it was who you shared them with. And you didn't know what would happen tomorrow, or what you would find, but you needed him to know, that despite how stupid you had been, that you loved him, and you wanted him to show you the life you never thought you wanted, but now couldn't fathom living without.

It was near midday when Awa'atlu came in sight, the farthest you have ever made it East. It was beautiful and lively, and despite the nerves, you couldn't help picturing your life in it. A horn made your presence known to the clan, and you saw people gathering on a wide patch of golden sand where you presumed you should be able to land. A few navy blue Na'vi brought a smile to your face and booming in your ears, and you knew you were in the right spot when you spotted Tuk jumping in the air, screaming at your sight.

Although a short reunion, it was not without its flagrant emotions and unstoppable tears. Your family was here, and although Lo'ak wasn't, it was happiness personified and you don't remember the last time you felt so much, so deeply.

"He usually takes a walk on the beach east of the village. If you just walk around, you'll definitely spot him." Kiri said, a knowing glimmer in her eye. "We all know that's what you're here. Come on, scat. He's been sulking for too long." You kissed them all on the cheek, hugging your sister and took off, excitement bubbling within you.

He was easy enough to spot, alone on the beach, his azure back to you and his hair that was now tied behind his back blowing gently with the breeze. You spotted the hair tie and realise with a pang of hurt that you didn't recognise it. You knew it was irrational. Of course he was going to get new adornments in the time you were apart. And yet still, it was just a bitter reminder of the time you lost, of the memories you could have been making together, that were now just ashes in the wind.

His name got stuck in your throat as you tried to push it out when you realised he was not alone. In front of him, hidden from your initial inspection stood a girl, turquoise-skinned, petite and gentle, with enough love and affection in her eyes to blind you, to wish it had. Because if it had, you might have missed the kiss, the laughter booming in his chest, his hands reaching to caress her cheek, your hopes shattering in a million pieces.

I guess, sometimes we all get, just what we wanted, just what we wanted

And he never thinks of me, except when I'm on tv

taglist: strawberryclouds22 @leoloeleosworld @fanboyluvr

[lemmetreatya]

@pisspope

was already writing something for him before you sent this but now everyone say: “THANK YOU CAT! for getting us double ony content out of val!!” (not like im vibrating at an extraordinary pace bc of this or anything)

Postcard for the Road — Onyankopon x fem!Reader

content: modern au, fluff, established relationships, afab reader, just really sweet idk idk

“Daddy, look! Another postcard came in the mail!”

“Whaaaat?”

Onyankopon wears an expression of false surprise as both of his daughters run up to your phone camera with small padding steps. If he was there in person, they would have easily been able to climb up into his lap — each one sat on either thigh.

Your oldest daughter — by three minutes — waves the card in front of her face.

“It says it’s addressed to us!”

“Open it then.” He says enthusiastically, his face popping in and out of the screen as he loosens his work tie and places his aviation pins onto the bedside desk.

As your daughter proceeds to twist and turn the envelope for its opening, the youngest twin says something in the back to you, complains along the lines about her sister hogging all the fun. In retaliation, you turn to your eldest.

“Baby, let your sister open it this time. You had your go with the last one.”

At your words, a stank face graces your eldest’s face.

“What?! No I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did.” Replies her sister.

“I sure didn’t!”

“Yes, you did.” Your youngest daughter snatches the postcard out of her older sister’s hand whilst her tone remains calm. “I’d remember because you opened the last one like a uneducated heathen and almost ripped it.”

The gasp of all gasps leaves your eldest’s throat. You even have to make a face to try and hide the fact that it was mildly funny.

“Ohh…” You stifled.

“No, I did not! Ma, tell her!” She now complains as she turns to you.

“Wait, heathen?” Onyankopon quickly pops into the frame. “Who taught you that?”

Momentarily ignoring her father’s question, your youngest carries on taunting her sister.

“I’m telling the truth though, you open them badly.”

In all truthfulness, your oldest wasn’t the neatest card opener, and she knew that for herself. But with no defence left she could only stamp her foot in rage and swing her arms in anger.

“That’s unfair! I want to open the postcard! I’m the one who got it through the letter box!”

A sigh leaves your throat as you continue holding your phone in your hands, your eyes glancing towards your husband who’s only mildly fading in and out of the camera.

With no one stopping her, your youngest continues to tease her older sister.

“You’re just proving my point. Only a heathen would use that excuse.” She snickers but this time you’re not laughing.

“Come on, girls. Stop that sorta talk—“ You try.

“Who taught you that word?!” Onyankopon asks more sternly from the phone again.

“Uncle Zeke taught me. Said I had to right to use it on annoying siblings.” Your youngest shrugs.

Seeing the slight gap of distraction, your oldest daughter attempts to snatch the envelope out of her sister’s hand.

“Give it to me!”

“Hey!—“

As the two girls tug the card between each other, you think to intervene. In mild annoyance, you swipe the card up from both your daughter’s hands.

“Okay, now nobodies opening shi—Jack! No bodies opening jack, give it to me.”

There’s mild bickering going on but you ignore it for the time being. Placing the phone onto your lap, you (neatly) open up the card for the girls before pushing it into their direction.

“There. Have.”

As you pick up the phone again, the girls eagerly hold the postcard between them. You switch the video call so that the camera was angled on the twins and Onyankopon was able to see their reactions.

“Who’s it from?”

He inquisitively asks and both girls shoot the camera deadpan looks.

“It’s definitely from you.” Your youngest drones. Your husband only continues to act surprised.

“What?! From me? I don’t know anything about no postcard.”

With their attention back onto the postcard, the girls inspect it from both sides. When they witness the glossy picture on the backside, squeals leave their throats.

“Oh my gosh! This is the place where you guys had your wedding and anniversary!” Your youngest exclaims.

Even you, who hadn’t much pendant for these postcards, raised your eyebrows. Quirking your head, you look below the flip side of the card and sure enough, they were right.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s the Maldives.” You say matter-of-factly.

That seems to get the girls even more excited. With frantic searching, the twins converse on how they smartly figured out that the very personalised, scribbled and doodled-on photocard was from their father.

“Dad, it’s so from you. It’s literally got your handwriting.” Says your oldest.

“How’d you know what my handwriting looks like?” Onyankopon chuckles.

“I’d know because that’s how I write my E’s! I copied it from you.”

“And you always put ‘With all my love’ in them.” Adds your youngest.

“Really?”

Onyankopon’s voice sounds more in fatherly-awe at this point than anything but your daughters are too excited about the gift to notice.

“Yeah, I’ll prove it! Lemme go get my writing book and I’ll show you.”

“I’ll go get the other postcards from the fridge.”

The two of them shoot off in different directions, determined to prove their father right. You on the other hand look down at the phone with a knowing smile.

“Didn’t know you were taking a Boeing to the Maldives?” You honey.

Onyankopon’s full attention is on the screen, his shirt removed as he pushes himself back to get comfortable on top of the hotel bed.

“Sorry. Did I not mention it?” He smoothly quips and you have to pretend that you’re not swooned.

“Boy, you know you didn’t.”

Onyankopon laughs out loud — boisterous. Caught.

“I’ll take you there again someday.” He ponders. “Maybe relive a few memories who knows.”

“Relive a few, huh?”

You have to try and deduct the man’s implications of the promise, concerning that the last time you went to the Maldives, you left as two but then came back expecting two more.

Onyankopon is quiet for awhile but nonetheless smiling. With a shrug, his eyes glance pass the screen.

“We’ll see. Never hurts to make new memories.” He muses

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Santa Carla’s Christmas in July

So this is the first of my Christmas in July week!! I meant to do one a week but the month got away from me 😂 I decided to do a lost boys one because I love them all sm and hey it takes place in the summer! so it may be a little rough around the edges but it was fun to write so I hope y’all enjoy it!

Summary: The boys all attend Santa Carla’s Christmas in July hoping to find easy prey, but they end up finding someone far more interesting instead.

Paring: The lost boys x gn reader (can be read as poly or the boys being competitive for reader. However you want to interpret it).

Warnings: fluff, bad banter I guess

David couldn’t believe the gaudy decorations that littered the beach. Poor excuses for Christmas trees propped up in the sand decorated in cheap ornaments and discarded beer bottles from drunk celebrators. They were blasting Christmas jingles from the speakers that lined the boardwalk as tourists flooded the city for the event.

It was Santa Carla’s first ever Christmas in July, no doubt a cheap trick to pull in tourists. And he would rather be anywhere else, but Paul high off who knows what had convinced him and the others to attend the event. Bringing up the point that the celebration would bring fresh prey that was easy to catch. And he couldn’t argue with that. They all looked as out of place as they always did, their leather jackets and piercings clashing with the reds and greens that everyone else adorned.

But it seemed Paul’s genius plan wasn’t as fool proof as he had promised. Despite it being well past midnight the streets were still crowded with families, something that wasn’t ideal for a feeding. There was no way they would be able to get away without an audience to watch and expose them for what they really were.

So instead they stood by their bikes bored as the waited for it to die down. As always Marko and Paul found a way to entertain themselves. He watched with a disinterested gaze as they tormented guests, jeering at them as they walked past and tripping a couple teens here and there. Paul even stole a raggedy Santa hat off a display before sauntering back over to the group. He placed it onto his head with a careless plop. “Very attractive.” Marko snickered.

“What ya think David, I make a pretty good Saint Nick don’t I?” Paul asked, checking out his reflection in his bike.

“You look stupid.” Marko answered, stealing the thoughts right out of David’s mind. Paul turned back to bark an insult and David grew bored of the interaction. He scanned the boardwalk taking in the pop up store that had set up shop. There were ones selling ornaments, another selling postcards and the biggest one was advertising photos with Santa. He snickered as he saw Micheal among the workers at Santa’s workshop, decked out in an elf outfit down to the pointy shoes.

Marko walked over to David, Santa hat now perched on his head. He followed his leaders gaze and let out a loud laugh. “Look at pretty boy!” He hollered, loud enough for Micheal to hear all the way across the boardwalk. Micheal whipped his head in their direction before flipping the group off. They all laughed as they made their way over to the display.

“That desperate for cash eh Micheal?” David teased, arm coming to wrap around the half vampire’s shoulders.

“Oh fuck off David I’m working.” Micheal grumped, shrugging off his arm and turning back to the table he was residing at. He was stacking greeting cards that were available for purchase, just as he finished placing the last one on top, Paul bumped the table causing it all to fall. “Shit.”

“Aw my bad Mikey.” Paul grinned, picking up the cards to hand them back. Micheal reached for them only for Paul to toss them all in the air. “Oops.”

“Will you guys just get out of here.” Micheal growled, picking up the cards that now littered the floor.

“Why do you want us gone so bad?” Marko asked, stepping on the card the other boy was going to pick up.

“Because you are scaring the children and you’re going to make me lose my job.” Micheal responded, stomping on Marko’s foot to make him lift off the card. Marko pushed him back, which would have lead to a fight if you hadn’t interrupted.

“Hey Micheal, Laura wanted me to come help you over here-“ You trailed off as you took in the site before you. Four guys who all looked like extras in an mtv video were huddled around Micheal, jeering at him until the picked up on your presence. Their gazes all snapped to you, they didn’t seem to blink as they all watched you round the table and settle in beside Micheal without another word.

“Or is this why you didn’t want us here?” David whispered, gloved hand coming to clap Micheal on the back. He tsked. “You were trying to hold out on us Micheal. That’s not very nice.” The two began a silent argument as you did you best to avoid the gazes of the other three men.

You kept your eyes cast downward as you restocked the cards, that was until a pair of eyes met yours. Your head snapped up as you started down at the blonde with the wild hair laying his head back on the table. He was leaning backwards against the table, head on the counter as he starred up at you. His eyes were blown wide as he gave you an open mouth smile. “You’re pretty.” He mused causing your face to warm up.

“Very Pretty.” You turned to the other blonde who spoke up. This one had curly hair and pretty eyes. He handed you a stack of cards that he had picked up from the floor, your hands brushed as he smirked.

“Thank you.” You smiled gratefully, placing the cards next to the others. “So are you.” Your compliment seemed to take the boy by surprise, his whole face turned red and he excused himself to go stand by the tall brunette, muttering to himself as he lite a cigarette. The brunette nodded at you, a soft smile on his lips. You nodded back with a smile of your own. It seemed these boys weren’t as tough as you had initially thought.

“Do you have a name princess?” You turned to face the one who you had heard Micheal address as David.

“I’m (y/n).”

“Just ignore these idiots (y/n).” Micheal mumbled, earning him a jap in the side from Paul.

“Don’t take his advise sweetheart, we’re kind of hard to ignore.” David joked, pushing Micheal to stand in between you two.

“Is that so?” You teased, tilting your head to the side as you looked at him. Noting his pale complexion and how cold his touch was when his fingers brushed over the exposed skin on your arm.

“And we don’t take kindly to it.” The twisted sister look alike added, jumping up to sit on the counter.”

“What time to you get off?” David asked, his eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t quite place.

“In about 10 minutes.” You answered.

“Well then we’ll be waiting for you and pretty boy by our bikes. Meet us when you’re done.” That was all David said before he turned and walked off, the others following close behind.

Micheal side eyed you, hands fixing his tilted elf cap. “I hope you aren’t thinking of going with them.”

You smiled, looking at him from under your lashes. “I don’t know they seem like fun.”

“They’re dangerous.” Micheal warned, hand coming to lay over yours.

“Aw, are you worried about me?” You cooed taking his hand in yours, causing him to scoff and pull away, his cheeks tinted pink.

“You wish.”

“Don’t worry Micheal I’ll be fine.” There was a feeling gnawing at you, warning you that there was something off with those men but you pushed it to the back of your mind. “After all, how dangerous can they be?”

[freuleinanna]

postcards

Characters: Travis Hackett Chosen ending: The Hacketts are all dead except Travis, Laura survives Short summary: Travis is trying to cope with the trauma of losing his family as best he can (which is not good at all). At the same time, unsigned postcards start to arrive. Words count: 2595 (trauma, healing)

Tags: @b33barlowsstuff, @imperfectjam, @sera-wonderland, @strawberryoverkill, @hrefna-the-raven (tagging my Travis squad, though it's ok if this one's not to your liking)

(I don't pretend to write master psychology or trauma, so I'm sorry if you hate it, but a Travis!meta thought wrote itself into a fic, plus I'm still on my Travis x Laura enemies-to-slightly-less-enemies-with-connection bullshit, oops)

September, 26 This feels stupid.

(no date)

fix the fence

buy coffee

start those quarterly reports !

check podcast  nothing new

(no date) No, I know, it ain't it. I'll try tomorrow. Can't think of anything worth saying.

October, 6 Here's the thing. Chris used to keep a journal. He said it helped, and I owe it to him to try. Just gotta write whatever's on my mind or stuff that happened. So. Drank a beer. Took another patrol shift. Way behind on the quarterlies, really gotta start on them now. What else?

God, what a load of crap. Chris is dead. Bobby's dead. Caleb's dead. Kaylee's dead. Dad's dead.

That's what's on my fucking mind.

October, 7 Ma is dead. There, I wrote it. Feels good. Not that she's    I don't mean fuck

October, 19 Full moon yesterday. Didn't know what else to do, so I started packing. Unpacked around dawn. I don’t need silver bullets anymore.

October, 27 A postcard came from NY. Weird. Nothing but the sender's address. Threw it out.

October, 31 Fucking habits.

I was patrolling, and drove to the camp site. Didn't mean to, just sort of ended up here. Sat in the car like an idiot looking at the windows. Usually, one would be lit. I'd get out, come in, we'd crack a couple of cold ones. I can’t bring myself to //

A bunch of kids just tried to break in on camp's grounds. I think they were looking for a place to get wasted on a Halloween night, which I completely forgot about. One of them was dressed as a werewolf and kept howling. For a moment, I thought Anyway. Scaring the shit out of them felt good. Shouting, too. Disrespectful assholes didn't have any right to be here. Not here.

PS. Almost called Chris to tell the story and have a good laugh.

November, 14 Sent in the quarterly reports last week. WAY overdue. Things kind of  lose their importance, even I know it’s not a good sign. Everything that happens swooshes right through my brain, in and out, like a bullet. Maybe a bullet is what I need

That last part came out of nowhere. I'm not really thinking it. I mean I wasn't, but now that I wrote it, I obviously am. Shit! This whole journal thing is fucking my brain up. Great advice, C. Real nice. It should be helping, not making more mess. How am I supposed to figure it out?

No, fuck that. Ma raised us better than self-pity.

But then, Ma also raised us to protect the family.

November, 19 Full moon. I still measure time by calendar marks. Three moons ago they were all alive.

December, 18 Full moon.

December, 26 Another postcard came. Obnoxious Christmassy stuff, with one snowman sneezing the carrot out and another dodging it and shouting 'I'm okay!' Nothing more, nothing less. Someone must have screwed up the address. This had better stop.

Anyway, this past month. Nothing much to say, I was clearing out the house. Couldn't be there with all of the rooms untouched, so. Yeah. That's it. Done the job.

(later) No, I shouldn't lie, should I? What's even the point.

It smells empty now, the house. Desolate. Like a place where people haven't lived for a long time, even though I've literally been there. I can't seem to fill it up on my own. I'm not enough.

Many things there. Memories. Found Bobby's old book about horses. He fucking loved horses, that kid. Couldn't remember where he put his shoes but recited dozens of breeds by heart. He dreamt we'd turn the house into a ranch. It was that one year when our folks shut the Quarry down cause Bobby was getting bigger, and more and more different, and he needed more attention instead of less. He was obsessed with the idea for months, driving Ma insane. Chris finally had to step in and say, 'Hey, I'll do you one better. We'll reopen the camp, and you'll have lots of kids to play with, how's that?' Bobby almost shat his pants with happiness. Poor lonely kid. I was too grown-up and off to college, and Chris was too… I don’t want to say normal, but maybe he was. He had his own friends. Bobby was with Ma most of the time and Ma was… well, she was Ma. Out of us three, Chris was the only one who had his special way with her. So they decided to reopen. I don't know if Bobby ever remembered the ranch idea again because I think, from then on, he slept and saw himself with a bunch of kids playing together on the camp's grounds.

Spent half an hour on the floor with that goddamn book, nearly crying. We should have got the fucking horses.

January, 17 Full moon. Don't know why I keep doing that.

January, 27 Moved into the station a couple of weeks ago. With all that space in the house, there's just too much, well, space. I'm used to having a big family, that’s the thing. Another habit. Anyone who grew up with one would know, it sinks it teeth in and doesn't let go.

Even C. and I, we went away for college only to come back home. I think, by then it had already been late. That's how Ma rasied us, always keep close to your family and care for it as best you can. We learned it with Bobby, and then with Chris's kids when they came along. We had been a wolf pack long before half of us turned into wolves. The house is cracked in the corners and crooked all over, and we were, too, with our issues and complicated relationships. It was never simple. At least, I knew who I was when I was there. A son, an elder brother, an uncle, lots and lots of strings upon strings. I don't really know who I am now. A survivor, I guess. I survived my family. Any one of us would say that's worth a gold fucking medal.

February, 3 Apparently, in order for it to help, it's supposed to hurt. Catharsis.

Don't have much time to write, but I got on one of those websites for people who lost someone. There are therapists there, too, so you can talk to them if you need to.

Long story short, after a few false-starts, I found Doc Morgan. She was okay. Talked to me for a while about loss, about myself, too. How I’m eating, how I’m sleeping, agitations, fixations. There was, surprisingly, a lot to say. That’s when the catharsis thing came up, I was talking about how Chris was writing and I was trying, too, but it wasn’t working. Then she started asking questions about my family and how I lost them, when it happened (this I could answer) and how (this I couldn't), so I had to drop it.

Before that, she also said I 'harbor a lot of guilt'. No shit, Doc. I wish there was someone to talk about it with. Someone who knew the truth.

Catharsis, huh? Shit.

March, 8 Thirty-five years on the force, and that’s the first time it happens. Got shot on the job. Nothing deadly, a bullet in the arm. Had to wear a cast for a month, so writing is more of an exercise now. Some punk was trying to rob the petrol station, things went south, and I got a bullet, that’s it. Guess hunting werewolves makes you cocky enough to underestimate an ordinary dick with a gun.

Anyway, the whole thing blew out of proportion, and I got handed an award and got my picture taken. Sweet fucking Jesus. I bet they knew there’s no other fool who’d agree to patrol this god-forsaken piece of land, so they were sucking up like hell.

Two new postcards came. This is getting annoying. Haven’t had a look yet, just noticed them in the mail box.

February 16 was the full moon. Still restless.

March, 9 ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.

The postcards. Almost forgot about them again, but went to take a look.

One looks kind of vintage, with two dogs sharing a bone and the ‘I don’t have a bone to pick with you’ phrase in a heinous font. The other is a goddamn get-well card sent by post.

I looked the address up, should have done that long ago (some cop!). It’s a dorm address, for the NYS College of Veterinary Medicine at Cornell University. A vet college.

I don’t know if I’m tired or pissed. Both. Pissed, more. Who does she think she is sending me postcards? Why? Is this a joke, does she think we’re friends? Why would I ever want to hear from her? What in hell are those writings? Got a hold of the previous card, the Christmas one. ‘I’m okay’. And now, ‘I don’t have a bone to pick with you’. God, and the get-well one, too. She must have checked the local papers to see that article. The sheer ARROGANCE. Should have left her right there in that basement with Chris.

(later) Got so wound up that I drove to the nearest post office. Picked the one white card there, the one you’re supposed to draw on to make it personal. Left it blank, wrote STOP IT on the back, and sent right away. This has got to end.

March, 18 Full moon. Up all night again. This, too, has got to end.

March, 26 Went patrolling again and drove to the Quarry by the end of the shift. There’s nothing horrifying on uneasy about it in morning light, just a bunch of wooden cabins with sun shining on the surface of the lake. Almost peaceful. Walked around for a while there, thinking. You’d never guess how close to the earth lie the dark secrets hidden all around.

I don’t know what to do with it. The main cottage is ruined, and I don’t exactly have the time or money to repair it. Even if I did, I certainly can’t run it on my own. Chris knew his way around, he loved it. Really, loved it. Spent hours designing improvement plans, or getting the best deals for food delivery, or talking with kids. He was a natural. I’m no Chris. I can’t really fill his shoes, never could.

I’ll probably have to shut it down or resell. The thought doesn’t sit right. I’m on the verge of the right, reasonable decision but can’t make it for the life of me. It’s all wrong.

April, 4 A postcard came. Of course. I guess I felt it in my guts that it would.

A profound-quote kind this time, the type that’s used for aesthetics, not for actual posting.

Stood by the mail box for a good minute. I think I understand now.

Catharsis.

April, 13 It’s time now, makes no sense to postpone it any longer. In order for it to help, it’s supposed to hurt.

I have always, all my life, tried to be a good person. Do the right thing, make the right decisions. I am a police officer, for God’s sake, have been for thirty-five years. I swore to protect people. But Ma also raised us to protect the family. What does one do when being a good person contradicts being a good brother, a good son?

I harbor a lot of guilt, Doc Morgan said. Damn right, I do. Good people, innocent people died, because I made a choice. All it takes is one broken oath, because once you break it, there’s no going back. There’s no clear path, nowhere to put your loyalty. All you can do is keep going, further and further into the woods. And along that road, there’s always a choice. People you don’t know, whom you’d sworn to protect, or your family, whom you love. Who do you protect? Whose life do you save? They don’t have answers in the police academy. It’s like that ethical problem where you’re riding a trolley without any sort of brakes, and if you keep on your track, you’ll kill a bunch of people, but if you make a choice to pull the lever and switch the trolley to another track, you’ll only kill one. They say the answer is often ‘don’t switch, don’t take that responsibility, let it ride’. Here’s where the catch comes in. What if those people are your family? One stranger seems like a reasonable enough sacrifice to save the ones you love. Here’s another catch. What if this situation comes up over, and over, and over again? And what if you pull the lever so many times that the pile of bodies grows out of control? Does a good person still do it? Does a good son?

He does, it turns out, because no one ever says: enough. Not one damn person. Dad didn’t say it, Ma certainly never did, not even Chris. The good son, the golden son. I can’t hold it against him, really, we all loved him. He was the kind of person who made everything better simply by showing up with his broad smile and stupid jokes. It just so happened, that the choice was mine, and there were always switches, and Chris was always on the tracks. His children, too. Ultimately, all of us. And once I stopped making that damn choice, the trolley rode right through.

‘Guilt is a ravenous creature,’ that’s what it said, on the postcard. It is, indeed. It’s the never-ending tear between ‘what if I never pulled the lever’ and ‘what if I pulled it just one more time’. It’s people you swore to protect but didn’t, and family you were raised to protect but didn’t. The guilt of not being a good person and not being a good son.

I’ve split myself over it so much I can hardly feel the halves, so I’m saying: enough. I’ve done enough. I’d loved them and protected them as best I could but the truth is, the most important choice is to stop sitting in a crashed trolley contemplating your choices. One person with a rope can’t pull everyone else back from the well. At some point, you’ve got to decide to cut the rope. I’m doing just that. I’ve spent enough time being a good brother and son. Maybe I can try being a good person again now.

April, 14 Went to send a postcard. I don’t know what she’s gonna make of it and if she understands at all. The whole thing is just too hard to explain. Catharsis.

For a second, I even thought of tearing out the last entry and sending it as a letter, but shit, the drama. So I went to the camp and took one of the Quarry postcards instead, from the souvenirs stand. Didn’t know what to write. Then just wrote THANK YOU. Maybe it helps her guilt, too, the one that’s been making her send those cards.

I hope so. God, I hope she understands.

April, 17 Full moon yesterday. Slept through it.

May, 1 The answer came. LIKEWISE. She did understand.

//

//

//

P.S. July, 7 I didn’t plan on writing anything else, but then another card came. A happy-birthday card, an absolutely idiotic one, with printed cake, and candles, and confetti.

I’m not even gonna ask how the hell she knew.

But then again, I could always send a postcard and find out.

[shelleytheodore]

CV

SHELLEY THEODORE Born in Brisbane, Australia Lives and works in London, Barcelona and France https://shelleytheodore.tumblr.com/ https://www.axisweb.org/p/shelleytheodore/ EDUCATION 2012 MA Visual Art (Fine Art), Camberwell College of Art, University of the Arts, London 1995 Bachelor of Fine Art (Hons), Goldsmiths College, University of London 1992 Dept of Continuing Education, Goldsmiths College, University of London, Certificate in Art 1980 Bachelor of Social Work, University of Queensland, Australia SELECTED EXHIBITIONS AND PUBLICATIONS 2022 Artist Feature Special Issue: Best Artists of 2022 Magazine 43, Hong Kong 2022 Magazine 43 Film Friday featured artist April 2022 https://magazine43.substack.com 2021 Deptford X Festival, Art in the open Supported Application Guide shapeslewisham introducing@shelley_theodore 23 March 2021 Deptford London 2021 Post Analogue Labyrinth IV, virtual exhibition, https://www.artsteps.com/view/ 6092eeaca33cc06fe89a823f 2019 Post Analogue Labyrinth Ill, as part of DEPTFORD X FRINGE, AAJA Deptford 2018 Post Analogue Labyrinth 11, Sister Midnight Records 4 Tanners Hill London Gaze, Axisweb: Contemporary Art UK Network, online exhibition Aesthetica Issue 81, p157, Artists' Directory, Published on Jan 24,2018 2017 Drawing Open, 26 -28 May, No Format Gallery, Arch 29, Rolt Street, Deptford 2016 Prison Drawing Project, Dean Road Prison, Scarborough, UK Artrooms Fair 2016, Melia Whitehouse Hotel, London 2015 Uncertain States Annual, Mile End Art Pavilion, Mile End 2014 Pala, an online digital program of artist's film and video works curated by Laura Mansfield 2013 Bloomberg New Contemporaries 2013, Spike Island, Bristol, and ICA, London 8 STUDIOS FROM HERE, Faircharm Studios, Deptford Postcard From My Studio, Acme Project Space 44 Bonner Road, Bethnal Green, London 2012 Crash OPEN, Charlie Dutton Gallery, 1a Princeton Street, London The Salon Art Prize Exhibition 2012, Matt Roberts Art, 25b Vyner Street, London Jerwood Drawing Prize Exhibition 2012, Jerwood Space, London No Now, Space Station Sixty Five, Kennington Bend over Shirley, Beaconsfield Contemporary Art 2011 CCW Artist Moving Image, HMV Curzon, Wimbledon 'Chain letter' worldwide exhibition 2011, GIBSMIR family, Zurich, Switzerland. Flash in the Pan, curated by Naomi Sidefin and David Crawford, Beaconsfield Contemporary Art The Unsung Heroes of the studio, ASYLUM, The Chapel, Caroline Gardens, Peckham 2010 Peckham Space Open, Peckham Space, Peckham Deptford X Fringe Award, Deptford X Fringe Nunhead Open Art Exhibition, The Surgery, Nunhead 2009 Creekside Open, selected by Mark Wallinger, APT Gallery, Deptford Creekside Open, selected by Jenni Lomax, APT Gallery, Deptford 2008 London Art Fair, Islington, Beverley Knowles Fine Art 2007 London Art Fair, Islington, Beverley Knowles Fine Art RESIDENCIES 2022 Studio Residency, San Quirze Safaja, Barcelona 2021 Photography Workshop with Architect Lisa Harmey and architecture students University of Cardiff, UK 2015 'Backs to the Future' Residency, FIVE YEARS 66 Richmond Studios, 8 Andrews Road, E84QN 2014 2014 LUX Critical forum, London 2012 Gasworks Curatorial Workshop, Gasworks 2011 Urban fabric 2 (UF2) Paradox Conference, Crawford College of Art and Design, Cork, Ireland 'Sculptural Drawing Collaboration', The Woodmill Project Space, Bermondsey

[elimaryholmes]

Getting to know you meme

.Thank you for tagging me @jamlavender! :) If the sloe gin recipe is not a secret of state, please tell me what amount of sugar you put in yours, I’ve meant to do some on my own in ages to the point of picking the sloes but not making the actual sloe gin in the end. Thanks by advance! E. x

Favourite time of the year: It depends but I quite love May and June, when it is getting warmer but not enough to end up half-baked like it was the case last Summer. However I’m quite partial to stargazing on Summer nights so Summer it will be.

Comfort foods: Homemade scones, roasted veggies lasagna, mashed sweet potatoes, butternut soup, gratin dauphinois, mostly food you can make with heavy cream and nutmeg. But when I don’t have time for that, I will go for a cup of strong black tea with milk and some milk chocolate digestives. 

Do you collect anything:  I collect stamps but I am yet to make albums of these, fossils and stones found during my walks and travels and yes, books, way too many books, old, new and everything in between, bought, offered, found, shared, I love books. Ultimately, I love sending and receiving postcards to enlarge my collection of these, so if anyone reading this message feels like they could use a little card for the end of year, I will be glad to send one, just message me. (EDIT: Thank you Lena for reminding me of my piles of washi tapes)

Favourite drinks: Earl Grey tea with milk, chai tea, but without sugar, but truth to be told I’m quite partial to a good gin & tonic, a shame it is difficult to get some decent tonic in the French countryside while I have a pretty decent bottle of Hendrick’s I got presented a few birthdays ago. However in winter you will see me nursing a cup of herbal tea (mostly thyme, Moroccan mint or verbena) in the evenings.

Favorite music artists: I don’t have an absolute favourite but I do quite like Poets of the Fall.

Current favourite songs:  Nights in white satin, by the Moody Blues, Ma solitude, Georges Moustaki, King, Florence + the Machine and I Lost Something in the Hills by Sibylle Baier.

Favourite fics: I adore the twisted beauty of @jamlavender ‘s fics, but admamu’s are my doudou, the fics I will read and read again, I cherish them. Both writers have a way with words that is beyond reason and the characters have a life of their own. You must read these two. I have a real fondness for Shorts84′s Far from the Tree and I might actually read it again.

Favourite video games: I’m sorry, friends, but I’m not a gamer. However, say board games, and we shall play Scrabble.

I tag: @lena221bee , @insertmeaningfulusername, @sherlock-is-no-sociopath (and whoever feels like replying but as usual, no pressure on those tagged)

[xtrablak674]

Greatest Hits

[Originally posted on my blogspot 'Iconclastic Narcissism' on the 29th of December, 2007. Posted unedited, with a few comments for more context or clarity. I was much more explicit in my journaling, even knowing it was open to the public. I am not ashamed of this candidness, but have learned more discretion with age.]

I was watching the second to last episode of LOST where one of the major characters knew he was going to die and put together a greatest hits, simply a list of five greatest moments in his life. I was thinking myself of what would my list look like and I found and interesting trend amongst my own greatest moments. First none of the moments are alone moments but moments that have to do with someone else and are related to an event or holiday. I have made my list in no particular order:

•My first Christmas with Paul

•Valentine's day surprise with Steve

•My first art exhibition that Karl attended

•Losing my virginity with Daniel

•Spending the day my nephew MJ

•Finding my mother dead

X-Mas Tears

My first Christmas with Paul was one of our happiest moments he had got me my first membership to BAM that my friend Eric had promised to get for me and didn't. I was so overwhelmed by the simple thoughtfulness of the gift I burst into tears of happiness. It was a very nice moment. I can say with all honesty that Paul was my most favorite boyfriend.

[Also my longest relationship to date at four years, but the things I learned with Steve greatly influenced this affair.]

Heart-Day Hotness

We had only met each other a week prior on February 7th,  but in that time that magic and passion I seem to create with my men was created with Steve, and he designed one of the most romantic evenings I have ever had, which appropriately was on Valentine's Day. He bought me to his apartment shared with two other roommates who he had gotten rid of for the evening. I was blindfolded and walked through the front door, where he had me disrobe and gave me a beautiful candlelit bath, where if I remember correctly he bathed me, toweled me off then slipped me into a pair of burgundy silk boxers and a matching terry cloth robe. 

He then led me past his bedroom to the living room where he had moved out all the furniture and arranged a piece of fur chocolate covered strawberries and sparking cider (he remembered I didn't drink). He then lit a fire one of those Duraflame logs, he gave me a gorgeous fossil watch and I think a leather wallet, we made love in front of the flames and fell asleep by the fire in each others arms. Steve was my first boyfriend and really set the bar for how I treated my future boyfriends and where I got the habit of spoiling my men from. One of my shortest relationships only lasting 9.5 weeks but Steve definitely hit the greatest hits in my heart.

Artistic Cherry-Busting

My first art exhibition was a great moment because it was the time I realized that people actually like my photography and thought I was an artist, it was a defining moment for me because I had always struggled with being considered an "artist". This exhibition of 19 of my pieces seven of which sold along with numerous postcards of the work was a total success, that also corresponded with my third date with Karl who attended and got along wonderfully with my friends and got treated to a very Steve-esque romantic picnic dinner in Prospect Park with me later that evening as we watched Close Encounters of the Third Kind tying into my three theme of the date. Making the entire day a wonderful moment and a greatest hit.

Statutory Rape #NotReally

[BTW the age of consent in New York State is seventeen]

Even though I had been sucking dick since I was eight years old, I didn't lose my virginity (having a man penetrate me) until I was seventeen. The funny thing is that Daniel who was 28 at the time thought I was like 25 and was a little shocked by my revelation of my age after his deflowering me and the level of experience I showed with the event (I had practiced with candles and dildos). Having a man inside of me the first time was a very overwhelming moment and I remembered crying a little when I came, I was so emotionally overwhelmed with the experience of the fullness and the pulsing of Daniel's member inside of me. It was a moment of great intimacy and a little fear but great happiness.

[I wouldn't learn until I think '04 that the sexual relations I had as a tender-aged child were in fact sexual abuse. I only became aware of this when reading a book to understand a boyfriend's sexual abuse as a child. This revelation set an upheaval in my sexual activity leading to my over a decade celibacy, while I reset myself and moved away from the toxic behavior I had been practicing for years.]

Playing Uncle

I don't think I realize how much I enjoyed being a big brother and an "uncle" until I was denied the privilege. The last time I saw my nephew MJ was also one of my happiest moments. Meeting his mother, his little sister and spending the day at Bryant Park on the merry go round then off to Toys-R-Us for a ride on the Ferris Wheel and finally dinner at Olive Garden was a very happy day for me.

I had bought gifts for both of the kids and the mother. I was so saddened that when she moved she fell out of contact and I never saw MJ again, until years later. I have several nieces and nephews, and by default MJ became the favorite because I had spent the most time with him, most of them I haven't even met and am not sure if they even know I exist its sad, but I don't hold the  children at fault  but the parents and I will make  arrangements for all of my nieces and nephews in my estate planning.

[Now some of the children have children, and I don't think I have met any of their kids yet and there are like four of the kids I haven't met. Its the saddest part of being a part of a family that has lost the matriarch, there isn't anyone to encourage the family to stay together.]

She's Dead Jim!

Finding my mother dead on the couch I have to say is one of the most life defining moments for me. I know its maybe odd to have on a greatest moments list, but I would not be the person I am today with out my mother dying when she did. I wouldn't have the strength, independence, perseverance and common sense that developed in her absence.  I happily admit I was a momma's boy and my mother spoiled her boys (as I  spoil my men), I got away with murder  in my mother's house, and  could  nearly do no wrong, and the wrong I did do, I learned to charm myself out of any significant punishment. No single moment has effected me as much as her death even though it was more then two decades ago, its still one of the most significant moments in my life.

[As of this year its been exactly forty years since she's been dead. I have been alive way longer than I ever had parents.]

[Photos by Brown Estate]

[artcalledtattoo]

Let’s Have Reality

Conversation

[skipped]

Let’s have reality

Ripped rip peaches sell out pears

Before the big Kardishians

Kart on a big conveyor

Thee ass

Peaches be for beached pears

Sand between the toes

Feeling more more

Let’s have reality

3 vs 20,000 plus

I see head lines and I see pairs

Ukrainian people

Where are they?

Parley fresh pairs

I need peaches!

Riped for eating

Now eating you

Again

Skipped the conversation

No real power to stump me into

That No T (naughty) t add rump to mid waist bust

Looking for audience

For my applause

Trump

(Not sexy shirtless riding horseback)

I brought that beat back!

Limp puttin’

Jerusalem talking

Not my fault

It just circled backed

( encircled [look up] back into my bang of head, look a picture of Hunam mountains, near a close to Zima posters propaganda $)

Let’s have reality

C.I.C.

Systematic postcard

Will it arrive be for X - MAs

Riped for eating

Now eating you

Again

In Reality

Questionable

Let’s Have

Ad Hummingbird Moth

O positive

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

BOOKENDED BY BABES -- OF THE SCI-FI/CYBERPUNK & '60s FASHION/GLAMOUR VARIETY.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on the penultimate set of Tumblr cover photos for the month of November, and featuring choice online finds such as:

Naomi Armitage, from the straight-to-video anime "Armitage III," action figure from McFarlane's 3D Animation from Japan Series 2 (by McFarlane Toys), "Overkill"-era MOTÖRHEAD, c. early 1979, photographed by Paul Slattery, Morbius the Living Vampire at his most haggard and sickly, artwork by Todd McFarlane, a film still from the 1999 sci-fi/horror/body horror film "VIRUS," Dave "Bambi" Ellesmere of DISCHARGE, during the "WHY" recording sessions, a vintage Cape Cod, MA postcard, c. early '60s, a panel of Zarda, Power Princess, engaging in her love of armed combat, and fashion models donning colorful sun visors, c. 1965, photographed by William Claxton.

Sources: My Anime Shelf, HipPostcard, The New York Times, X (formerly known as Twitter), Picuki, IMDb, Zip Comic, various, etc...

[simmerandstir]

A X-mas postcard from the Lanez Family.

[kathleencorbett]

VINTAGE Patriotic Postcard CONDITION: VG/light wear DATE/ERA: c1900s-20s. Standard Size 3.5" x 5.25" (9 x 14 cm) Rare 1915 US 1 Cent Green Perforated Stamp Five lines cancelled flag George Washington Embossed silver Patriotic P.Sander Postcard With used 1 cent Stamp Good Condition Minor Flaws Fairhaven MA Shipped with USPS First Class. (KC-34) (at Lincoln, Rhode Island) https://www.instagram.com/p/ChQnuQPsEyM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[doubtspirit]

Le Père Fouettard: The French Christmas Cannibal

Across Europe, traditions have monstrous beings accompany St. Nicholas on his rounds, like mobsters doing their boss’s dirty work. The story of Le Père Fouettard is crazy and vicious. It is probably the only seasonal tale that centres on cannibalism, infanticide and zombie children.