#also if I could draw this would all be drawn as rock Lee writing this down as a detailed letter to Gaara

[crows-and-cookies]

New headcacnnon: Gai is actually apart of a mlm (verging on cult) and he spent all of his jonin paychecks on the green jumpsuits (first level buy-in). He’s desperate to move up to the next level and be let in the cult, but Kakashi sees through the whole thing and fights against him trying to involves the students at every turn. Kakashi has been trying to get him out of the cult for years but Gai can only think of the 120 boxes of jumpsuits that crowd his apartment. Everyone once in a while the other jonins and students all join together and try to have an intervention. ‘This is madness’ they say, gesturing to the couch made of cardboard boxes covered with jumpsuits he’s sprawled on and the green pillows he’s made of jumpsuits. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ Gai says, propping his feet up on a coffee table made of boxes full of jumpsuits. ‘Lee, don’t you agree with me?’ He asks. ‘Don’t you drag Lee any further into this!’ Sakura cries. Yamato and Sakura lead a sobbing Lee out, and Tenten stakes out his apartment and has to stop him from going back to Gai’s later. Kakashi is genuinely at his wits end until Tsuande steps in and dispatches an ANBU unit (with Kakashi pulled out of retirement, of course) to go destroy all of the jumpsuits. Yamato and Genma go and shake down the mlm contract holder, and once he agrees to let Gai free of his debt, they let Sai and Sakura run him out of town.

The mission goes perfectly and though Gai is distraught, and they can all breathe easy. Until Gai discovers essential oils 2 weeks later.

[abbysfrenchbraid]

hi! i love all of your writing, especially your abby fanfics. i know you’re in the middle of your eivor series right now, so pls disregard if you don’t feel like writing this request or don’t want to write for abby, but i was wondering if you could maybe write a hurt/comfort type imagine where abby either comforts the reader when they’re sad or after they have a nightmare. i get really frequent nightmares and love to read fanfics like this but totally understand if you’re not into the idea. all the love and i hope you’re doing well; merry christmas if you celebrate!

so this is half a year late, but I finally have a little more time to go through my requests so here it is! this is also the first time I've actively avoided gendering the reader as I've gotten a few requests for a nonbinary or genderfluid reader. This is not a cop-out on that, I definitely want to write an explicitly nb reader but I figured this would make the reading experience better for quite a few people!

Summary: The reader has recently lost a family member and stranded with the WLF. They struggle with frequent panic attacks and nightmares. Abby notices and tries to take care of them.

CW for loss of a family member (sibling), death and grief, heavy trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, and struggling to breathe. The nightmares are also fairly violent and creepy so please watch out for yourselves and only read this if you're in a good state of mind <3

I've Got You

The truck rattled as Leah drove it up the road to the WLF stadium. It had been a particularly rough day on patrol. You and the other wolf had run into a group of freshly infected that seemed to have been three families once. The children had been the worst. The youngest had probably been about ten years old before she had turned, her eyes bright blue and her blonde curls matted with dried blood. You had taken care of them all, of course you had. But it had been horrible. You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.

You had joined the WLF a few months ago after losing your team and your little sister in a clicker-infested cellar you had set up camp in. It had been so fucking stupid, so careless. But everyone had been tired, you hadn’t seen any infected in days, and so only one of you had kept watch. He barely had time to scream before the clicker had ripped out his throat. It had been chaos, madness, everyone scrambling to escape into the network of damp corridors and storage rooms, more and more clickers being drawn to you by the noise.

Leah raised her hand at the armed guards at the gate and they opened for your truck. The sun was setting behind you and most people were inside the stadium now, eating or spending time with friends. Both of you were quiet. Leah’s legs were covered in slowly darkening blood and the smell was nauseating. The tall wolf pulled the truck into its designated spot and took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” You looked up at her. The circles under her eyes could compete with yours, but her face was still as kind as ever.

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself today. Take a long shower, get something to eat. I’ll let Martha know to give you a double portion for dinner.”

You smiled faintly at her. This was how it was here. All the wolves had seen terrible things and probably done even worse. They all chose to let it out in training and then leave it behind them. No sense in holding on. You nodded.

“Thanks, Lee. See you in the gym tomorrow.”

The brunette grinned and patted your thigh.

“6 am sharp!” She jumped out of the car and gave back the keys at the checkpoint, then she vanished inside the stadium.

You stayed in your seat. Your fingers had cramped up and you were scared to unfold them, scared you would never be able to stop them from shaking again.

Sierra had held your hand all the way, not letting go as you dragged her through the darkness, fought off four infected, stumbled up stairs you had not come down on, and found yourself in a ravaged theater. You had run all night and only stopped when you were unable to go a single step further. When you had found a small pawnshop that you could lock up safely, you had made a bed of your jacket and a moth-eaten blanket from the theater. Sierra had started to cry. You would never forget the way dread had started to creep into your limbs, seeping into your skin and stretching dark tendrils toward your throat. You had rolled up Sierra’s sleeve and there it was. A relatively small mark, just the puncture wounds from two teeth turned into mean scratches as Sierra had pulled her arm from the jaws of a clicker and kept on running. But it had already begun to fester, the edges of the wound an angry red contrasting the white blisters forming around the site. It felt like the ground had been pulled from below your feet. You fell and fell, unable to speak, to do anything, just staring at the thing that meant the end of the world. The end of your baby sister.

A shout caught your attention - another car had returned to the stadium and was pulling into a spot a few paces away. It was Manny and Abby, everyone’s favorite duo. The attractive joker and the stoic warrior. They were among Leah’s best friends and she had introduced them to you a while ago, all of them welcoming you warmly. It had been strange, being part of a group again, a team. Your heart was still too sore.

So you had quietly pulled yourself out of most of the group evenings, the film nights and game nights and arm wrestling tournaments and what else there was to do. Manny had tried his luck flirting with you a few times and one time you had even joined him for a dance, but after realizing he wouldn’t land with you he had respectfully backed off and now treated you more like a little sister. Mel and Owen had been nice, too, both very secluded when they turned up together, but Owen was funny and enthusiastic and always yelled your name across the cafeteria or the training course when he saw you. He was one of the few people who could make you laugh no matter how hard you tried not to.

Nora was a whirlwind, the smartest person you had ever known and unfaltering no matter what the universe threw at her feet. She liked poetry and hard rock music, big men and even bigger women. You had often wondered whether she and Abby had ever hooked up. But you weren’t sure of anything concerning Abby. Always the stony face, the impenetrable wall, the arms-length smile and polite nod in the hallway. It could be infuriating at times. Especially because despite it all, against all your better judgment, you could feel yourself growing more and more interested in her, constantly looking for her in a crowd and sneaking side glances to see if she was listening to you or laughing at the same things.

The car doors banged and the sound echoed through the small space. Manny was laughing about something Abby had said and walked with a bounce in his step as he approached the counter to hand back his keys. Abby looked like she always did, khaki cargo pants and a black cutoff, her green backpack slung over one muscular shoulder. Some strands of hair had escaped her braid and curled up at the back of her neck, slightly damp from her sweat in the hot summer air. Trying to calm down and distract yourself, you let your gaze wander up her strong build, freckled biceps flexing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. And then she looked straight at you. You didn’t move, stayed frozen as you had for the last few minutes, wishing you were invisible.

Your face felt hot and suddenly there were tears blurring your vision - what was happening?! Your knees started shaking as well, bouncing uncontrollably as your nails dug into the backs of your hands. Your throat was closing up and your bottom lip was quivering. All you saw were specks of grey and green, all you felt was your body resisting every command and rebelling against you, trying to hold you in place and suffocate you silently.

Suddenly the door opened beside you and a soft, deep voice said your name. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision wouldn’t clear up, panic blinding you further. You began shaking your head as your chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw breath.

“Fuck, Y/N, okay.” Abby’s voice was determined and suddenly her hands were on your wrists. Her skin was warm and dry, her grip firm. She softly shook your clasped hands and somehow moved so her face was in front of yours, a mess of green and brown and there, soft pink where her lips moved, speaking quietly and telling you to breathe with her. One hand stayed on your wrist and her thumb massaged the cramped up muscle there, digging painfully into your flesh but pulling you back to her slowly. One hand came up closer and a calloused thumb brushed the tears from your cheek before her hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your upper back.

“Hey, look at me, look at me, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here. Can you try to breathe in with me on three? Just stop fighting for a moment, count with me and then we’ll breathe in together. Okay? One.”

You tried to sit up straighter and stop the erratic twitching of your chest, still choking on your breath as you waited for her commando.

“Two. Three.”

Her hand pressed between your shoulders from behind and suddenly you could breathe again, a loud gasp that turned into quiet sobs as you fought to release the air from your lungs before breathing in again.

“There we go, you’re doing so good,” Abby’s hand was on your cheek again, “so good, Y/N, breathe with me, that’s right.”

Your vision slowly returned to you now, though it was still distorted by  tears. Abby had half-climbed into the truck, one foot between yours and one dangling out of the open door, her weight held up only by her right leg as she pressed her back against the dashboard. A wet laugh escaped you. Abby shot you a confused look, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get a cramp as well,” you rasped, “if you keep that up.”

You slid further to the inside of the broad seat, making room for Abby next to you. She grinned and sat down, one hand still on your wrist. Her eyes went down to your trembling hands, your knuckles still white from your iron grip.

“Okay, let’s take care of your hands, hm?”

Her fingers wandered softly over yours, then she rested one hand over your tangled fingers and pushed her other thumb between your palms, gently loosening your hold. She pulled back each finger slowly, starting with your thumbs and stroking each one as they relaxed. Finally, your shaking hands lay freely on your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, don’t worry.” She took one of your hands in her lap and started massaging the inside of your palm. “Wanna tell me what got you there?”

You sighed, breath still shaky with tears.

“Um.. We ran into infected today. Runners. Families, it seemed.”

Abby sucked in a breath and gave you back your hand before taking the other and starting the same gentle procedure.

“Those are the hardest. Kids?”

You nodded and Abby made a soft noise. You took another rattling breath.

“I… I lost my little sister. Back when… before I came to you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at you, shock and sympathy playing over her features.

“Fuck, Y/N, you never said…”

“I know.” You lowered your head.

When you had stumbled out of the woods around the WLF stadium and begged them to let you in, they had stripped you and searched you before bringing you to their leader. After hours of questioning to make sure you weren’t a spy for any other group, he knew about your team and everything you had done in the last three years, but you hadn’t mentioned Sierra once. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. They had brought you to Nora who had patched you up, examined you, and fed you before showing you to your new room. It was a small closet on the base level of the stadium, with only a tiny window letting in some light. You were thankful for a roof over your head and the armed posts surrounding the stadium.

“I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t lie to Isaac or betray you. It wasn't anyone's business.” You gave Abby a fierce look. Nothing would change your mind about this. She just nodded, her eyes wide. You sighed, brushing your hands against each other.

“She was bitten. I see her every time I close my eyes. It wasn’t fair.” You dropped your hands into your lap. “I just don’t… I can’t -”

Abby’s hand was on yours again, her fingers sliding between yours.

“Hey. I won’t tell anyone. But I’m here, okay? If you want to talk.”

You scoffed.

“No one ever talks here. You’re all made of stone.”

Abby contemplated this for a few seconds, then she squeezed your hand.

“My dad was murdered a few years ago. Almost all of our families are dead.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. Fuck. You had been so insensitive. “By us, I mean Owen, Nora, Jordan, and me. Owen lost his parents to infected and his brothers to the scars just last year.”

Abby leaned back and stared out of the windshield, the garage now dark except for a few small lamps at the exits.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m in no place to tell you how to deal with it.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right, you know. We don’t talk about those things.” She looked at you, her gaze so intense you almost pulled back. “Would you like to?”

You forced yourself to hold her gaze.

“I think I would. Now that it’s all… further away.”

Abby nodded, squeezing your hand again.

“Then we’ll talk. You can tell me all about your sister. And… I haven’t talked about my dad in a long time. I think I’d like to tell you about him, too. He was great.”

A small smile played around her lips and you felt a rush of gratitude for this wonderful woman. You could practically see the memories playing through her head behind those green eyes. She blinked, looking back at you.

“Wanna get something to eat? You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sure.” You shared another smile and exited the car together, fingers still intertwined as you crossed the lot and Abby held the door open for you.

Dinner was already over, but Leah had kept her word and the elder woman at the counter gave you both gigantic bowls of beef stew with thick, coarse bread. You told Abby about your patrol that day and she hummed sympathetically. She knew what it felt like to deal with infected children. After a while, the door to the cafeteria flew open and Manny came in, sleek black hair still wet from a shower. He grinned brightly as he made his way over to you and sat next to you on the metal bench.

“You coming along tonight?” he asked you, drumming his fingers on the table. You raised your eyebrows.

“What’s happening tonight?”

He tutted at Abby and gave her a theatrical frown.

“You didn’t invite Y/N? It’s Mel’s birthday! Owen got his hands on some prime hooch. You celebrating with us?”

You smiled at your plate. The last thing you needed was to get wasted and completely lose any shred of sanity you had left.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I still haven’t showered and I had a terrible day. I’m just gonna read a bit and pass out, I think.” You gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Read and pass out? It’s a special occasion! You sure?”

“Yeah, but really, thank you for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

He sighed heavily, then he clapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Abby, you need to get moving, girl. We’re meeting in 20 and you stink.”

Abby just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, finishing her stew. Manny's laughter echoed through the empty room as he left.

“Do I really smell that bad?” There was a twinkle in her eye, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“Not at all. He probably smelled me.” You grabbed her empty bowl and placed it in yours. “Go have fun, I’ll clean this up. See you at training.”

Abby cocked her head to the side, seemingly not sure what to do. You gave her another encouraging smile.

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me, I owe you. Go celebrate!”

The tall blonde stood up slowly. She still seemed hesitant.

“I’ll come check on you later if that’s okay. And you can always come over and talk to me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Your chest felt tight all of a sudden, but not in the way it had earlier. It was the feeling of reaching for something knowing you’d never have it, of wanting something so bad and only being able to admire it from a distance. It felt like being homesick. You thought of Sierra again and how she had been your home, the only anchor in your life. Fuck, not now.

You shook your head as if to get rid of your thoughts and gave Abby a brave smile.

“Okay. But I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Abby gave you a last look over her shoulder before exiting the cafeteria and you made your way over to the kitchen. The cooks had already left and a lanky red-haired boy was the only one still there, washing dishes and listening to music on an mp3 player. The metallic sound in his headphones echoed through the peacefully quiet kitchen. He almost jumped two feet into the air when you approached from the side, bowls in your hand.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus Christ.” He pressed a wet hand to his chest, the suds leaving a dark print on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how not to scare you, music and all. Sorry.” Both of you had to laugh and he held his dripping hands out for your dirty bowls.

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone this late. You just come back from a mission?”

“Just a patrol run.”

You leaned against the counter and watched him clean the dishes.

“Anything exciting happen?” His eyes were bright and excited. He was even younger than he had looked at first, he couldn’t be older than 15. “My brother is on patrols too. Maybe you know him, his name is Danny.”

You crossed your arms and tried to remember the face that matched that name. Danny had been on patrol with Owen for a while when you had first arrived, but now he was stationed on some outpost and you hadn’t seen him for a long time.

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s not here at the moment, right?”

“He’s at the Serevena Hotel. I may be able to visit him there soon, depending on how my training goes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Training to be a soldier?”

“Of course.” He stood up straight. “I want to do my part, protect our people. Fight the scars.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. Even though you were thankful the WLF had taken you in and even though you had also participated in rigorous training from the first day on, soon being cleared for missions, you didn’t really have the same loyalty and faith for the organization. The seraphites were your enemies now, of course, but they were just people. You all were. Sometimes you wondered how it could have come to this - so few people left on this earth and here you were, slaughtering each other.

“I hope you can visit your brother soon.” You let your arms fall to the side and turned to leave. “Thanks for the dishes.”

“No problem,” he mumbled, putting his headphones back in.

You were in no rush to get to your room and so you took a few detours, passing the gym which was filled with quite a lot of people getting their training in after work. You looked into empty classrooms, trying to decipher what was written on the board. Would Sierra have studied here? Sat in the front, eager to learn the things you hadn’t been able to teach her? What if you had come here earlier, before it all happened? Could they have protected her better than you had? She would probably be walking next to you now, telling you about her day.

When you finally arrived at your room, you just quickly grabbed a towel, a clean shirt, and some shorts and headed for the showers. The hot water seemed to help somewhat. You wondered what Abby was up to right now. Probably getting drunk and having fun. Was she the type of person who danced? You had never seen her dance before. Maybe Nora would persuade her. There it was again, that heavy, pulling feeling. You turned the water off, got dressed, and went straight to bed. Enough heartache for one day.

-

You woke up confused, not knowing where you were at first. It was pitch black and there was some kind of noise outside. You reached around you and finally found the flashlight next to your pillow, turning it on and trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. What was going on?

It had to be after midnight. The lights in the stadium were only on from 5.30 am to 10 pm in order to save power. You untangled yourself from your sheets and got on your feet, swaying a little. There it was again, that strange scratching noise accompanied by a quiet mumbling sound. It wasn’t directly at your door but seemed to come from further down the corridor. There were a few other people living down here in storerooms and sectioned hallways.

Yawning, you walked to the door and opened it ever so slightly, pressing the flashlight to your thigh in order to keep the light down at first. You couldn’t see anything, so you waved the flashlight around the corridor. Your stomach dropped.

At the far end of the hallway, a small figure stood in front of one of the doors, trying to open it to no avail. Small hands scratched at the wood, quiet brabbling reached your ears. This was wrong. Very wrong. The figure hadn’t noticed the light yet. It went on to the next door, trying the door handle and whining in frustration when it didn’t open.

Why didn’t the people inside wake up from the noise? You stood frozen as the figure tried the next door. It was a child, dressed in dotted pyjamas. Its blonde hair was shoulder length and tangled in knots. You slowly pushed your door open wider in order to step out into the corridor. Suddenly, the hinges squeaked and the sound echoed through the hallway.

The child slowly turned toward you. Blood was dripping from its mouth, its eyes were cold. It took a step toward you. You looked down and realized you were holding a gun. Oh. Right. Infected. You were supposed to shoot them.

As the kid made another strange brabbling sound, more blood ran down the front of the cotton pyjama shirt. You raised the flashlight with shaky fingers and aimed it right at the child's face.

Your blood froze in your veins. No. This couldn’t be. You had taken care of her, you had made sure she wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into one of these… No, you had given her a peaceful ending.

“Sierra.” Your voice was raspy, quiet with terror. “Sierra, what are you doing here, baby?”

She growled. A horribly wrong sound, coming from someone so small and so lovely. Only she wasn’t lovely anymore. She was sick. Infected.

“Sierra!” You spoke louder now, your voice pleading. “Baby, please don’t do that. It’s me, see?” You raised the flashlight to light your own face for a moment. When you put it back on her, she had stopped walking. Her face was a mask of ice-cold fury. When she spoke, her voice rattled like nails in a metal box, rough like chalk on board.

“Y/N… Why?

You sank to your knees.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry Siri, I was so helpless. I didn’t know, I didn’t…”

“You… killed… me.”

She was getting dangerously close now and all of a sudden you could smell her, too. Foul, dead, vile. The smell of sickness and decay. You raised the gun, a war raging between your head and your heart.

“Sierra, stop. Stop.” Tears were streaming down your face. “Please stop, Siri. Don’t come any closer. Stop, stop! Please stop!”

Your little baby sister was so close that you could have reached out a hand and brushed through her hair. You stood up and took a step back.

“I’m gonna have to shoot you if you don’t step back. You’re infected, Siri. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t, please Sierra. Don’t, please don’t…”

She hissed at you and lurched forward. A shot rang through the air and the girl fell to the floor right before you, her tiny body at your feet, blood slowly pooling around her head. You dropped the gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. You clapped your hands to your mouth and screamed into your palms, crying out again and again, trying to gasp for air. It felt like your heart was being torn in two.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around, but there was only darkness. You let yourself fall to the floor and kept weeping into your hands. Someone gripped your wrists and shook them slightly. You opened your eyes.

Abby was sitting on the side of your bed, her face right above yours and full of worry. You shook your head, frantically looking around your room for any kind of danger. The room was almost dark, light just seeping through the crack under the door. It was still early in the night.

“Y/N? Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Abby slowly let go of your wrists. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

You were still too terrified to speak, so you just scooted further to the side and grabbed Abby’s hand, giving her a pleading look. She understood immediately, kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed next to you, holding out her arm for you to crawl into. You pressed yourself to her side and rested your head on her chest, feeling yourself tremble in her arms. She just held you for a while, letting you listen to her heartbeat until your own body began to calm down.

“Hi,” you whispered into the dim room. Abby stroked your hair while she held you tightly.

“Hey there,” she mumbled back. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You looked up at her. She smelled faintly of alcohol and something sweet. “How was your party?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“It was absolute chaos. I had to escape from there before it could consume me. And I also had someone to check on.” She squeezed your shoulder. You cringed at the thought of her finding you like this, writhing and talking in your sleep, crying out or even fighting her without knowing who was in front of you. You had always had horrible nightmares and Sierra had taken the brunt of them, waking you countless nights and trying to stay brave when you yelled at her or shoved her away in the first moments of consciousness, not yet fully back in the real world. Now that she was gone, they were a hundred times worse. You pressed your forehead to Abby’s shoulder.

“Did I scream?”

“Not really. I just knocked a few times and then I heard you talking, and you sounded so panicked that I thought I should make sure… I’m sorry I just came in like that.”

You shook your head.

“No, don’t. Thank you for waking me. It was… God, I hate this.”

Abby’s fingers combed through your hair, massaging your scalp. It was heavenly.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You snorted involuntarily.

“Every night. Several times. I never sleep through and I never sleep enough.” You wiped a hand over your face. “Sorry, I know I’m not the only one and it could be worse. It’s just… hard.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s tone made you look up at her. “You’re telling me you have several panic attacks in your sleep every night but it’s fine because others have nightmares, too?”

You frowned. Panic attacks? You’d never thought of it that way.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to complain. To me especially. Remember, we wanted to talk about our problems? Be open about all this?”

She was right. You pressed yourself closer to her.

“I guess, yeah. Thank you for… for being here.”

“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

You held onto Abby’s shirt, clenching the fabric in your fist as if she might be ripped from you at any moment.

“I don’t know… I mean, why not. Well…” How were you even supposed to explain all this? How would you ever talk about your sister without freaking out again?

Abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You took a deep breath.

“I can never tell I’m dreaming. This time I thought I heard something in the corridor and I went to see what it was. A little girl was scratching on doors, trying to get in. She looked like the… like one of the infected we ran into today. But I made a noise and when she turned around she was... She was -” You gasped for air, trying to keep your calm. Abby hummed softly, stroking your back and giving you time to think.

“She had the face of my sister. Sierra.” You hadn’t said her name out loud in so long, only in the nightmares. Maybe it was time to rid her name of that terror, that fear, and grant it the love and warmth it deserved. “Sierra was my little sister. We ran with a group the last few years, stayed with them after our mom died. But she was bitten and I had to… I had to let her go.” You swallowed hard. Abby’s thumb drew circles on your back.

“So in the dream… the girl turned around and she was her . And I didn’t know what to do. I begged her to stop, to not come any closer because she was infected, she was bleeding, and -” You drew in another breath and buried your face in Abby’s chest. “She asked me why I’d done it, why I had… and she kept coming and then she attacked me and I - I had to, I had to shoot her.”

Hot tears were burning in your eyes and your throat was impossibly tight again. Abby gently placed a hand on your cheek and turned your face up toward her.

“I’m not gonna tell you it was just a dream because I know it's more complicated than that. I get them, too, sometimes. But what I can tell you is that I’m here, that you’re safe now, that your sister is in a better place and that one day you will be able to speak about her without feeling like you’re falling apart.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. And now you're with me. We can heal together. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You raised your head from her chest and turned a little in order to get face to face with her.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? Why now? I didn’t even think you liked me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Abby’s features softened and she huffed out a silent laugh.

“I don’t know. I really… You were right when you said we keep everything to ourselves. But some of us do it more than others. And I guess I’m the worst when it comes to showing what I want.”

The sentence hung in the air for a moment. Abby took a deep breath.

“I like you, I really do. I just thought you needed more time. I know what it’s like to suffer and to feel like you can’t breathe. I wanted to give you space. But then I saw you in the car and I immediately knew what was happening. And I finally realized that I wouldn’t make things better by staying away.”

She held your gaze and you felt something shift between you. Her hand on your back came to a halt. You smiled softly.

“I always thought you didn’t find me interesting enough to talk to me. I was so jealous of the others for being this close to you and for making you laugh. I wanted that, too.”

“You’re the most interesting person that’s ever walked into this stadium,” Abby said softly. “God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel left out.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder.

“You made it up to me already. Really, you saved me today. Twice.”

Abby chuckled.

“Just wait until I have my next breakdown and then you can return the favor. Shouldn’t be long, they get to me every few days.”

You wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay close by.”

She hesitated, holding her breath for a second. You waited.

“Do you want me to stay? Tonight?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

You kept talking for a while. Abby told you about the party and about the cook Nora was currently hooking up with, and you told her about the boy in the kitchen. She recalled training with Danny when she first joined the WLF, laughing about how he had boasted that he wouldn’t lose to a girl and how she had him on the ground in a headlock in about two seconds.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were in the truck again, sitting in the passenger seat as the car flew through Seattle at top speed. You looked over and in the driver's seat there was the red-haired boy from the kitchen. His face was determined, a hard mask of concentration. He was panting hard, driving as fast as he could. Arrows were flying around you, soaring through the broken windows of the car and missing you by mere inches. A horse was whinnying. Scars. You immediately pulled out your gun and started shooting at everything that moved outside, hitting at least three people and a horse.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you reloaded. Animals weren’t fair.

You looked up and suddenly there was someone standing in the middle of the street. A small girl, brown-haired and in a red dress. Her back was to you. You screamed at the driver, but it was too late. The truck hit the child and it was thrown against the windshield, making a horrible noise as it cracked the glass and rolled over the roof to the back of the car where it fell to the ground. The truck came to a shrieking halt and you jumped out, gun drawn. The scars had vanished. You and the redhead ran back to where the girl was laying in a heap on the street, so small and fragile. Blood was running through the cracks in the pavement.

You turned the girl on her back and froze when you saw her face.

“Sierra! No, no, no, oh god no, what have we done - Sierra, Sierra, baby, look at me!”

“Y/N!” You heard your name but Sierra’s lips weren’t moving. “Y/N!” You whipped your head around and woke up.

It was dark and Abby had an arm wrapped around you, the other was holding your cheek. You swallowed and struggled for air.

“I’ve got you, hey, just breathe for me, I’ve got you.” Abby’s voice was sleepy and rough, something you'd have never thought you’d have the privilege of hearing. It calmed you down instantly. You dug your fingers into her arm, strong muscle flexing beneath your touch.

“Shhh, that’s right, just hold on. You’re okay.” You melted into her arms, hands and legs still shaking. She made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat and pressed another kiss to your scalp. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” you whispered and she hummed again in response. You rested your head against her chest and listened to her breaths as they slowly became more regular, chest steadily moving against you. Her heartbeat thumped softly in your ear. Cocooned in the wolf’s arms and serenaded by the quiet symphony of her sleeping body, you finally drifted off to sleep again.

[okaywitheverything]

hi! can i request minato fall for naruto kindergarten teacher please? thank you 😁

Ma'am: A Possible New Mom? Minato x KindergartenTeacher!Reader

My actual first request! Hope I did it justice! Thank you honey for the request. I wrote some sort of mixed AU so I hope you don't mind.

 A/N: This took a lot of time because I have a lot of tests every month. Also i threw up a week ago and was somewhat sick. Then I lost the two drafts and was so irritated with ms word but somehow I managed to write again. So a lot of blood, sweat and tears went into this. Please shower it with love if you even read this awful Author’s note.

Positive A/N: I did like how it turned out tho, the ending is too cute and you won't know what to expect as I didn't either. I genuinely hope you have fun reading this piece.

Word count: 3K

 Your POV

 “It must be fun to play with the kids all day."

People who think that are the biggest fools on the planet in the universe.

You were picking up the various toys scattered throughout the main classroom, sorting them category wise while the kids took a nap. Most of them anyways.

A few babies had insane amount of energies that they refused to sleep whatsoever. But it wasn't as big a problem as people think it is. All kids have different strengths, a variety of ways to function and unique physiology. You knew if a kid was not tired, forcing him or her to doze off isn't healthy.

Just let the kids be.

So that explains why Naruto was alongside you helping you to collect the sponge shurikens scattered around while you put away the stuffed ninkens on the high shelf. Usually Kiba and Rock Lee would be awake as well, and this trio would play in the hall until their limbs gave out but today even they slept after tiring poor Akamaru out for weird challenges.

“Ma’am, I almost forgot! I want to show you something! Come with me!” Naruto suddenly grabbed your hand leaving his task in the midst and urging you to leave yours too. You looked at him puzzled but giggled at his enthusiasm nonetheless, sometimes kids were too darn cute. You loved the ways kids’ eyes lit up, so optimistic and happy and hopeful until the world snatched it all away. You wanted to preserve this for as long as could.

He took you to the room where the kids kept their small backpacks filled with their favourite articles that they thought were absolutely necessary to take everywhere.

No Neji, you don’t need to have three combs for the care of your luscious hair every possible instant.

Naruto generally brought a lot of snacks which you had to retain sometimes so that he would eat healthy but it became even harder to do so when all he wanted was for Sasuke to taste the tomatoey flavour ‘these’ chips had and gift Rock Lee the curry flavour. That boy had a heart of gold.

 He pulled the zipper of his orange backpack open, and took out a stuffed fox.

“Ma’am meet Kurama! I told him all about you and he wanted to meet you!” He held Kurama up while you were gently petting the plushie’s head, he was so excited to see your happiness to meet his esteemed companion.

These kids and their imaginations! You loved every ounce of it!

“Hello Mr. Kurama!” You didn’t feign excitement, you actually were. You loved kids and their creativity and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“He’s my best friend! Don’t tell anyone else though! Others might get sad.”

You did an action of zipping your lips, “Your secret is safe with me, sweetie.”

“Look! I also drew something!” He hastily handed you Kurama and proceeded to take out his yellow sketchbook. He kept turning pages filled with rainbows of colours morphing into one another that made some sense in his cute, little head and finally reached his desired page. He pulled your dress with his little chubby hands, an action he often did when he wanted you to sit beside him. You kneeled down, his plushie settled in your lap now as you waited for him to go ahead.

He handed you his open sketchbook where there were three figures, two adults and one kid judging by the height, all wearing triangular outfits. One kid and an adult had striking yellow hair and blue eyes while the other adult wore an orange dress with a large circle in their hands. On closer inspection, you saw your own hair colour and eye colour being illustrated to the best of the toddler’s ability, as far as the crayons allowed him to portray it. You had a circle in your hands, almost the size of your drawn head with black spots in between while the child in the photo held an orange squishy ball. To save you from your confusion, Naruto came to the rescue and started explaining.

“That’s me and Dada over here. And I’m playing with Kurama! And that’s you Ma’am! Bringing me and dada cookies for being good boys like you do in class!”

Your heart melted right there and then. For some reason, your face heated up too.

“Oh my God, honey, that’s amazing!” You pecked his cheek as Naruto blushed slightly and rubbed his head, “You liked it?”

“I Loved it! What did Dada say about it?”

“He got so red like Sasuke’s tomatoes haha. But he put it on our fridge like my other drawings and he said it was the best one yet.”

Before you could reply, crying was heard from the nap room and you sighed. Looks like someone woke up.

“Yay, someone is up! We can now play!” Naruto began running but you stopped him.

“Let’s be sure to pack this all up before, Ma’am Anko will see to your friend okay?”

Minato was waiting alongside other parents, it was 10 minutes till the kindergarten was over. His mind wandered afar, thinking about his journey to this town.

Minato was very afraid when he moved to Konoha, about Naruto settling in and making friends. Of course, back in his previous town he had already got Naruto a place in the best Kindergarten there, pulling all the needed strings but his promotion caught him off guard. Being a single parent was hard enough as it is, and with the worry of adjusting to new surroundings for his growing son, he was almost going to decline the offer. Only after much conviction from his friends that he deserved this, he took the offer, albeit hesitantly.

He was happy with his new workspace and colleagues as well, and was over the moon when he one of his erudite associates had a son the same age as his own, and recommended the city’s best kindergarten where his son was set to go. He went blindly on his associate’s word, because he knew him to be a wise dad.

For the first two months, he had to work relentlessly to prove his position as the new leader in the branch, and so he had his assistant pick Naruto up while he prepared lunch at home for his precious boy, barely making it home fifteen minutes before they did. But when the company celebrated their first real accomplishment, only then did Minato feel he could take a step back and indulge with his son more as he used to do.

When he began picking him up himself, he realised what he had been missing on: small quirky tales, new words his toddler learned, new friends’ names, his favourite teacher’s cookies apparently. Minato quickly noticed, being the perceptive man he was, that Naruto could go hours and hours talking about his Ma’am. He would have thought of it as a crush, had Naruto been older.

But when he first saw you, he could relate to his son if Naruto did have a crush. He knew he was being superficial, being attracted to your appearance at first sight but he couldn’t help himself that you were almost ethereal, too gorgeous to be true. It seemed as if you were glowing when you laughed alongside the kids or held one of them on your shoulders while searching for the parents.

However, your personality was even more so captivating when he finally talked to you at the parents-teachers conference. You were such a quality teacher, he deduced when he noticed how apt you were at describing each kid individually and how dedicated to their growth you were. He loved the bond you had with Naruto, the boy couldn’t stop grinning upon meeting you on his day off.

The bell rung, breaking him out of his reverie, and he waited as the kids ran to the parents, waving goodbyes here and there, ready for their weekend. He could hear your faint shouting over the buzz, “Make sure you have taken all your belongings, kiddos! Have a good weekend!”    

He knew if you had a special place in his son’s heart, he could let you stay in his heart as well.

It was 8 PM, one hour past the Uzumaki kid’s bedtime, but the blatantly crying kid was nowhere near sleeping. A distressed Minato held him on his hip, as he searched the entire house for his favourite plushie, Kurama, without whom Naruto had never slept.

“We’ll find him, Naru. Do you remember where you last saw it?” Minato asked, pausing and sitting in the comfy sofa, looking at Naruto, hoping he’d have an answer.

Naruto’s wails quietened down, fortunately there were no tears, as he pondered and spoke, “I last showed it to Ma’am!”

Minato sighed, he grasped that Naruto would have left it at the playschool because no inch of his house was unsearched. He settled Naruto down on the couch as he deliberated calling you over a toy. He had your number for emergencies, but was this one? The real objection, the actual reluctance he had for calling was totally different though. He hated to admit it, but talking to Naruto’s daydream of a teacher always left him stuttering like a teenager. He could barely listen and respond when he met her at the kindergarten, but talking to that Goddess one on one was more terrifying and nerve-wracking than moving to a new town.

But he knew there was no way Naruto would sleep without Kurama and it was only Friday, nights to wait if he doesn’t ask you about the plushie today. He couldn’t imagine how disheveled will Naruto be without Kurama by then. He would surely award himself with wine if he managed to finish the call without fainting.

With clammy hands and a vigorously pounding heart, he dialed the number.

You were finishing up the last batch of forms and cleaning up, when you saw something abruptly put in the otherwise shipshape playroom. Before you could further inspect, your phone rang, Mr. Uzumaki flashing on top of the screen. Your heart hammered as you wondered what he could be calling about.

You were not going to lie, Mr. Uzumaki was easy on the eyes, always in class A condition with his well-tailored suits as he came to pick Naruto up. Even the married housewives ogled him not-so-subtly. He was such an excellent father, really devoted in his son’s life while simultaneously conquering the business world. An eye candy, with all the best qualities that existed, an immensely put together God’s creation. He was dream partner to have, yet somehow he was single.

Your phone’s ring broke you out of your musing, as your sweaty palms grabbed the phone and received the cal.

“Good Evening, Mr. Uzumaki.” You managed out, your neck suddenly heating up.

“Good Evening, Miss. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all, I was about to head home. How may I help you?”

“If you are still there at the playschool, could you please…… If you don’t mind….. I’m sorry again I called-”

“I assure you, it’s fine. You don’t need to worry about it. Although you do need to tell me the problem if you want me to help.” You giggled lightly, amused at that man stuttering.

“Thank you. Umm Naruto left his night time plushie there I suppose and he doesn’t sleep without it. Could you please, please check if it’s there?”

“Of course.” You held the phone and as you hummed and went to the Kid’s playroom you found Naruto’s sketchbook with the drawing laying on it, and the Kurama toy beside it. You swore you promised Naruto pack it earlier in the day.

“Looks like he did leave it here.”

“Can you keep the school open a bit late, I’ll come and collect it right aw-”

“Its pretty windy right now outside, and you’ll have to bring Naruto too at this hour. I’ll drop it at your home on my way back, I was planning in leaving in five anyways.” Your mouth spoke before you could process what you said, offering to go to his house? Nice going there, you desperate weirdo.

His choked out “Okay” almost surprised you as you ended the call.

This will be a nice, little detour.

About twenty minutes later, the doorbell to the Uzumaki household rang and Minato sprinted to the door, opening it immediately.

There you stood, with tousled hair from the wind, in your long red pea coat and black heels. Your cheeks lightly tinted, no doubt because of the unruly weather outside. Somehow you still looked absolutely perfect in Minato’s eyes as he traced your form, unable to initiate the conversation.

You, on the other hand, had halted completely when the door opened revealing a ripped Minato, his muscles bulging underneath his black shirt while grey sweatpants hung loosely on his hips. His biceps were so thick, you wondered how he managed to exercise on top of all the responsibilities he had.

You handed it over to Minato whose eyes widened at the piece of paper and stood there awkwardly, processing what to say.

Somehow stopping yourself from all the gawking, you cleared your throat as you dug in your black purse and took out Naruto’s best friend and his masterpiece.

“Guess he left this as well.” He gave a forced laugh, trying to make things less uncomfortable after he stood silent for two minutes.

You chuckled lightly in agreement when suddenly thunder boomed behind you, causing you to shriek and slip, only to be caught by Minato, his hands holding you around your middle tightly in a protective manner. You coughed as you stepped back again and he cleared his throat this time when suddenly it started pouring like hell’s rage on Earth.

“You should stay for a while, at least until the rain lightens.”

You were going to decline, but when you saw how bad it was raining, you knew you would have to accept. “Looks, like I’ll have to. Sorry to impose.”

“It’s no imposition at all. I’m inviting you, don’t fret.”

You stepped inside, shrugging your pea-coat off, revealing your black dress underneath. Minato reddened visibly, taking your pea-coat from you and hanging it. He cursed himself as he thought of conversation starters, wanting to say something, anything to not stand like a fool.

“Would you like wine? I have this blush flavoured bottle reading to drink.”

“I would love that, Thank you. What are you celebrating though, if I may ask?” You agreed, maybe the alcohol would calm your buzzing nerves. Besides you were a sucker for wine.

“Nothing much, a simple personal achievement of sorts.” He said with a grin as he led you inside, hopeful of where the night might lead. Maybe the liquid courage would help him finally ask you out.

Behind the wall, Naruto grinned with a pacifier in his mouth. Mission successful.

So that was that. Until next time, cookies.

[dreamieofu]

7 Minutes in Heaven

pairing; exboyfriend!haechan x reader word count; 2.1k genre; fluff, so much fluff... warnings; idk, alcohol(?) not even mentioned but it’s a party so... also reader has small confession about insomnia.  summary; your ex is back in town, and when you’re accidentally caught in seven minutes of heaven... you ask him to sing for you. 

a/n: requested! ♡ i had a lot of fun writing this, and it really warms my heart.. i guess everyone needs a little haechan to sing to them. 

He was coated in florescent lights, a sheen of sweat glistening his skin as he stood there, across the room. Eyes lowered, diverted from yours. He’s suited in a leather jacket over a white tee, ripped jeans and his favourite trainers. Even though you both were surrounded by a swarm of people, it was like a spotlight shone over him. Golden boy, Lee Donghyuck. You stay eyeing him from the distance, teeth bitten onto the rim of your plastic cup. It’s only been a few days since you’ve heard he was back in town, his name brought back memories and he seemed to be more glowing than ever. It frustrated you how your heart was still soft for him, and you confirm that in your mind because you’re still watching him. Glance unwavering as he laughs. You used to date a few years back, and broke up due to the distance. He was leaving town, and so he left you. But a lot has changed throughout the years, you’re both a lot more older. You did date a few times after he left, but you never seemed to forget the way he would make you feel. Donghyuck was your first love, and you were his. 

“He looks good doesn’t he?” Jaemin grins.

You mindlessly nod, agreeing with his words in seconds. Jaemin was your closest friend, he was the only one out of your group of friends who remembers Donghyuck. “I don’t remember him looking like that,” You tell Jaemin, tilting your head before finally tearing your eyes away from Donghyuck. You take a sip from your cup, hating how you couldn’t enjoy yourself. Your mind was constantly drifting back to Donghyuck ever since he walked into the house party. Donghyuck was close friends with the host of the party, and from what you’re aware of, he still was. “Have you spoken to him yet? Donghyuck.” Jaemin questions, head pointing towards Donghyuck’s direction across the room before taking another gulp from his cup. “No…Should I? I don’t know, what if he doesn’t remember me?” Your insecurities more vocal, as you look Jaemin in the eye for reassurance. Wanting to hear something along the lines of, “How could he forget you?” But you could only hear Jaemin’s laughter following after your words. You nudge his shoulder pushing him backwards a bit, before he pretends to be hurt. His hand following where you pushed him to smooth out his shirt. “Well, you never know,” He almost sings, eyebrows dancing as another playful smirk graces his features. 

You peer over your shoulder in attempt find Donghyuck again, quickly falling onto the spot you remembered he last was. But he wasn’t there. It made sense, he wouldn’t stand in the same spot for hours. Yet, a little sadness twinged in your heart because you lost him in the crowd. “He’s gone,” you pout to Jaemin. Hearing nothing in response, you repeat your words with a tiny whine. Looking back to face him, you connect eyes with the man himself. “Who’s gone?”. His voice was deeper than you remember, velvet. He grew taller too. You fumble with your words, upon seeing him upclose. Your lips part ready to reply, but nothing comes out. And you swear you can see Jaemin holding back the biggest smile seeing you all flustered. Mentally you want to push him again, but you’re caught. You couldn’t take your eyes away from Donghyuck. “Just some random guy she was eyeing,” Jaemin saves you, amusement in his tone as Donghyuck looks at him. Finally letting go of his gaze, you try your best to get a hold of your composure. Your hand reaches to touch your face, feeling heated. The sudden hyper awareness of the atmosphere makes you kind of light headed. “I’ll get you another drink,” Jaemin speaks louder, his hand taking your cup. He manouvers between you and Donghyuck before giving Donghyuck a cheeky smile. Jaemin left you alone with him, and you silently curse him for doing so. “Long time no see…” Donghyuck smiles, a breathtaking smile. You helplessly mirror him, feeling your cheeks raise. “Yeah, long time no see,”. 

“How’ve you been?” He feels a lot more mature, you can’t pinpoint what it is but it makes you even more attracted to him. Feeling his aura closer at you, his presence intoxicating. You nod along with his words, smile never leaving. “I’ve been good.” “I can tell,”. Not only did he have all these new attributes about him drawing you in second by second, he was also smooth with his talk. You watch him lick his lips slightly. By now you’ve lost your smile. Feeling shy under his gaze. “How long will you be staying?” You question, genuinely curious but also as a way to not think about his previous words. “A few weeks,”. You nod understanding his words, your mouth opening to ask another question but nothing comes to mind. “You look good,” You confess, slightly embarrassed and he makes sure you stay that way when he gives you a questioning look. “What did you say?” His hand cups one of his ears, as he leans a bit closer to you. The music evidently more louder than before. You attempt to raise you voice even louder, losing confidence whilst doing so, “You look good!” You repeat. He only shakes his head, boldly taking your hand to push through the crowd. Your feet move on their own as they follow him. Donghyuck looks good from the back also, and a part of you wants to run your hand through his hair. But you’re quick to physically shake that idea away from your thoughts, as he brings you into a room. You look around, a window to the right, curtains drawn open left slightly ajar. The room was dark, dimly lit with a bed in the middle and other furniture. You give him a questioning look as he shuts the door behind you both. He’s panting a small bit, as he turns around to you. A small smile on his face, “What did you say back there? I couldn’t hear you.” He sounded so innocent you didn’t really mind the way the room felt. Being alone. “I said: You look good,” Shyness creeping on you as you look away from him, to look at the posters on the wall. You get startled by the loud banging on the other side of the door. 

“You got seven minutes!”. You look back at each other with wide eyes, obviously shocked at the realisation. “I guess we’re in 7 minutes of heaven,” He laughs. You smile at him, liking the way his laugh sounds. “I guess we are,”

Even with the room being dark, away from the coloured lights outside. Donghyuck still looked amazing, and you couldn’t get over it. “So what? Are we going to kiss now?” He jokes, running a hand though his hair. “No…” You say gently. You can’t tell if it was a joke or if he was serious. Donghyuck chuckles lightheartedly anyway. It was nice, reuniting with him this way, he made you feel comfortable. Sudden warmth surrounds you as your mind starts reeling old memories. Together you spent a few short minutes laughing and reminicing about the past, really catching up on life and sharing jokes about the days when you were dating. You both were now sat at the foot of the bed, next to each other. His laughter dies down slowly after yours.

You smile at him, the silence holding both of you close. Although, the sounds from outside were muffled, it felt good to be detached from the crowd. You never expected to spend your night like this, with Donghyuck. In knowing so, you muster up courage. “To be honest… Lately I’ve been having a lot of insomnia,” Your voice quiet, but he hears you none the less. A sympathtic look falls on his face, as he kindly offers you a smile of encouragement to continue. “And I don’t know if it’s because of the room right now, or the fact that you’re actually here after all these years,” You ramble, hands clasped together nervously. Looking up at Donghyuck as he places one of his warm hand on top of yours. Your eyes connect and you swear it’s like a flashback. “But can you sing for me?” You nervously request. 

Eyes full of hope, he gives you a small smile and an innocent kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes at his gesture. Sinking into the side of his body as he places one of his arms behind you holding you close. “Okay,” He agrees in a whisper. Not a few moments later, your head is under his chin and resting at his shoulder. He sings you one of your favourite songs. You’d be lying if you were to say you weren’t touched that he still remembers. He feels familiar, and his voice is everything you needed. He sings with care laced around each word. Donghyuck makes you feel safe. You’ve not felt this relaxed in weeks, and he’s so effortlessly cleared your thoughts. Everything in your mind was about him, the way the breath of this tone kissed your ears. And how his hand was still on top of yours rubbing his thumb rhythmically as he gently rocks you. You move your hands away from his touch, and pull your head back to look at him. Your heart racing, as he stops singing. “Are you okay?” He asks, genuine concern in his tone. You almost tear up at how gentle he was with you. His eyes glistening from the moonlight. You nod bringing your head down, knocking it against his chest lightly. His hand instinctively reaches out to stroke the back of your head. You slowly lift your head from his chest and look up at him. He is so soft, and he’s understanding. Staying quiet even though you’re acting a bit odd and you appreciate it. “Donghyuck…” You whisper his name, and he hums in response. “Is it okay to kiss you right now?”. He looks a bit taken aback, but doesn’t show any discomfort. He kinda gleams at you, the left corner of his lips raises upwards as he melts at your words. If he were honest with himself this time. He did have hopes in bumping into you, his mind thought about you often thoughout the years. He was hoping to find you again in his visit back into town. And hearing you say such words, has his heart soaring with the stars. He chuckles though, at your awaiting gaze. “Sure.” His finger barely traces your jaw as he lifts your chin towards him. Bringing your lips close, just about to touch - when… 

“TIME’S UP!!!” Someone yanks the door wide, completely ruining the moment as you snap your eyes open. 

Your head falls back into his chest in embarassment. The music from the party spilling in the room, as the lights meet your vision again. You quickly shut your eyes inwardly groaning as you felt him laugh. His hand soothes your back before he quickly guides you both to your feet. You keep your head low, as he instinctively grabs hold of your hand to leave the room. “Thanks man,” Donghyuck smirks sarcastically to the person who opened the door. 

Once you both reach outside, another couple make their way into the room. You look back and watch them as they shut the door behind them. A pout plays on your lips, thinking about how close that kiss was. Donghyuck notices you sulking to yourself, and it makes him smile. “Hey,” He speaks loudly against the music gaining your attention. You’re quick to look at him because he also lets go of your hand whilst saying so. You don’t have time to complain from the loss of contact before that same hand cups the side of your face to crash his lips onto yours. It was sudden, but his eyes were already closed as he places his lips between yours. It makes you forget everything, the fact that there are people present around you. All you could think about was the way his lips were so soft. Once you relaxed into his touch, his other hand pulls you toward him, wrapping around your waist behind you. Deepening the kiss, as he starts a slow pace. Your hands creeping up, trailing against his torso, to his chest to then link around his neck. He kisses different from your memories, it was better and filled with so much more passion than you could’ve recalled. It had your mind going blank, your everything in his control. He begins to kiss you with a bit more urgency, as if almost saying “I missed this, and I’ve missed you,” He pulls away from you, lips a bit swollen as he licks them. His eyes never leaving yours, as you smile with him. “Let me take you home,” 

[thebibliomancer]

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 21

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because after that big shocking reveal last time I don’t really need another because!

Last times on book: Kylan, Naia, Amri, and Tavra are finally on their way to Ha’rar after the disappointment of finding that the firca of Gyr the Song Teller was broken. When Kylan went ahead to ask Tavra if they could take a break, he discovered she wasn’t Tavra and was colluding with the Skeksis against them! He knows but she doesn’t knows he knows! How tense!

Chapter 21

Kylan is a sweet little blue berry

When Fake-Tavra and Kylan get back to the clearing, Naia immediately insists that no matter what Tavra thinks, they need to rest.

Fake-Tavra actually draws her sword although she stops short of being actually threatening with it. Still, GEEZ FAKE TAVRA!

Its only thanks to the improbability of an imposter situation that you’ve been getting away with impostering because you are terrible at pretending to be a reasonable individual!

Kylan, who has reason to worry about whether Fake-Tavra would actually use the sword knowing that her Skeksis master is getting impatient with her, steps in.

He’s stepped between Fake Tavra and Naia so many times that he’s basically an expert at this point.

“Tavra. Listen. Amri needs shoes, or soon we’ll have to carry him, which will surely slow us down further than if we stop for just a little while.”

“It’s not my fault he decided to come. If he needs shoes so badly, he can have mine.”

Tavra reached down and tore the sandals from her feet, tossing them at the Grottan boy, who flinched at the gesture.

“That’s really not necessary,” Amri began. “Naia cut some hide from her jerkin, so...”

Geez, poor Amri. He didn’t ask to be in the middle of this drama.

Kylan deflects again because he can sense that this is argument is gonna escalate and then Fake Tavra’s gonna kick their asses.

“I got a note from Rian. It came by swoothu, early this evening. His boat was damaged by a rock in the river, and he was waylaid. He’s close by and he said he’ll wait for us if we’re near. I already told him we would meet him tomorrow evening.”

Tavra snatches the note from Kylan, looks at it, and then dunks it into the fire.

Naia looks at Kylan skeptically but he hits her with the full force of puppy dog ‘please play along’ eyes.

“Oh,” she said in a normal tone, as if she had just remembered. “So that’s what you were doing out in the wood earlier. Why didn’t you tell us right away?”

Ain’t friends who’ll back up your random lies the best?

Kylan builds up on his lie by claiming that he didn’t mention it earlier because he was worried it was secretly a secret Skeksis scheme trap.

Fake Tavra confidently says its not a trap (because she is the trap and the Skeksis wouldn’t double book).

Kylan suggests that they wait until morning and then go meet him.

Tavra stared into the fire, free hand cupping her chin in thought. He hoped she was thinking what he wanted her to think - that this opportunity was too sweet to miss. Her master wanted Rian, and this was a way she could regain favor.

He was rewarded when she sheathed her sword.

“Yes. Fit those sandals to the Shadowling. We leave first thing in the dawn.”

And then Fake Tavra sits against a tree and falls asleep. Or pretends to fall asleep?

... Huh. Y’know. With all the emphasis on the Skeksis wanting to drink Naia and Gurjin, I forgot that the inciting incident of all this was them trying to catch Rian.

With that settled, Amri turns his attention to the sandals that Tavra threw at him because he doesn’t have context for all of this and his number one priority is his aching feet.

The sandals are pretty close to his own foot size but Fake Tavra broke the cords when she ripped them off.

Kylan tells Amri he’ll fix them but first fishes the fire-resistant parchment out of the fire and hands it to Amri.

Naia comes over to talk to Kylan while he fixes the sandals, which he’s really good at because it was one of the tasks Maudra Mera taught him when he was a child.

When Kylan whispers back, he whispers loud enough for Fake Tavra to overhear. Oh, Kylan, what scheme are you up to?

“I don’t trust Tavra.” He watched the Silverling when he spoke. She did not stir. “Something about her has been all wrong since we ran into her. You remember... with the blue mouth?”

Naia frowned. “Of course I remember the blue mouth.”

Kylan chose his words as carefully as if he were telling a song. This was the most important part of all.

“Good,” he said. “Because if you remember, then you’ll understand why I want to meet with Rian in private. Tonight. I don’t want Tavra to get her hands on him... I think she’s working for the Skeksis. So, tonight, when it’s quiet, I’m going to sneak out and meet him and tell him. I’m going to tell him to go on to Ha’rar without us, and tell the All-Maudra that her daughter is a traitor.”

Kylan watches from a reaction from Fake Tavra but all he notices is that earring of hers twinkling in the fire light and he thinks it moves on its own.

HMMMMMMMM.

Naia protests Kylan having to go alone but Kylan can’t explain it without giving the game away and dreamfasting would draw Fake Tavra’s attention. Especially since she’d mentioned to her Skeksis master that she could sense it. So he has to trust Naia to trust him and figure out what his plan is. THROUGH FRIENDSHIP and shared experiences.

“Remember the blue mouth?” Kylan asked. “It was good we weren’t alone then.”

Amri had been quiet, since he likely had no idea what the blue mouth was or what it had done. In the meantime, he had uncrumpled the scrap of paper Kylan had handed him, smoothing it on his lap. Kylan focused on mending the last of the broken cord, waiting for Amri’s reaction. It came shortly: a glance of confusion, then the flicker of understanding.

Hmmm.

I have to say, I love Amri just being completely baffled at these references and deciding ‘I guess I’ll read garbage.’

I’m not sure what would be on the note that would give the game away but that also wouldn’t clue Fake Tavra in... unless Fake Tavra can’t read?

It’s been mentioned a couple times that she’s shown no interest in all the writing everywhere.

Also, I forgot what the blue mouth was supposed to be and only just vaguely remembered that its the plant that tried to eat them. I don’t think they ever call it a blue mouth? I’ve flipped back and while it had a mouth it wasn’t described as blue. But the fruit are blue. And that makes me think I know what the reference means and what Naia is supposed to take from it.

Kylan takes first watch and waits and waits and waits until he can’t waits any more.

Kylan watched the fire die in quiet, holding his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting. Though the night was the same as any other, knowing what would soon come made it seem as if he existed inside a dome of his own thoughts. His mind felt like Aughra’s observatory: constantly moving, full of things.

Stay focused, he told himself. Tell the song. It will work... it has to.

He takes off into the dark wood (not the Dark Wood although it reminds him of the night he spent then and how scared he was compared to how brave he is now and hopes if someone tells his story they remember his character development. You’re such a Song Teller, Kylan).

Since he’s listening carefully, he hears footsteps following behind him at a distance.

The follower (I mean, its Fake Tavra, there’s no ambiguity there) isn’t bothering too hard to hide.

It proved to him that she had meant it when she had called him weak, and for the first time, he smiled about it to himself.

Kylan leads Fake Tavra stalking him towards a perfect ambush zone. Just a great place with ledges and boulders and all kinds of lunging places.

And then Tavra ambushes him.

Kylan turned toward Tavra’s voice just as she shoved him against the cliffside with her forearm, pinning him with her body. In her other hand she held a short knife, but more wicked was the grin on her ghostly face. She did not look like Tavra. She did not look like a Gelfling at all.

She’s being a spooky.

She demands Kylan tell her where Rian is and when he stammers that Rian isn’t here yet, Fake Tavra declares that when Rian does arrive, he’ll find a dead Kylan.

That’s the worst welcoming gift!

ALSO yeah that little earring thing thats repeatedly had attention drawn to it in the text? Its moving? And it has eight legs?

SPIDER-TAVRA. I KNEW IT.

Oh but the real ambush is the ambush that ambushes the ambush.

Kylan ducks out of the way as a bunch of finger-vines are dumped all over Tavra. They leave Kylan alone but snare Tavra in an unbreakable grip.

Amri and Naia climb down from the ledge on the finger-vines. Ah ha! Naia’s ability to talk to plants!

“How dare you!” [Tavra] cried, but the vines near her face slithered across her mouth and silenced her. It seemed the plant did not like her, either.

Hah.

“You make quite a good little blue mouth berry,” Naia said.

Kylan chuckled.

“Sweet and small. We make the best bait.”

HAH.

Okay so the blue mouth plant with its tempting little blue fruits. And Kylan was the tempting little blue fruit in this context because he’s small and sweet. And also the one that Spider-Tavra perceived as weak and no threat.

It all comes together! Good way to draw the plot threads together, Kylan!

And good way to make that weird tree that tried to eat them woven into the narrative and not just a weird random encounter.

Much respect, J.M. Lee. You wordsmith.

The three Gelfling look on the trapped traitor.

“Now, tell us who you are and what you’ve done with Tavra,” said Naia.

YEAH.

I mean, I have a decent idea but I wouldn’t mind some exposition to fill in the gaps. We’re seventy some pages to the end and I don’t know where the rest of the plot is going! Somehow I feel that we’re not going to go to Ha’rar after all.

[theclosetpoet7]

Unintentionally Going to Second Base

Disclaimer: Naruto isn't mine.

Notes on chapter: In which Sakura and Sasuke suddenly take their relationship to the next level.

Rating: T, very slight M

It shouldn't have bothered him.

It really shouldn't have.

Come to think of it, this should've come naturally.

And it shouldn't have made him this uncomfortable.

It shouldn't.

But it did.

Uchiha Sasuke finds himself completely frozen the exact moment her soft skin makes contact with his. And it takes him a millisecond to realize what he had just done. And another for his whole body to feel overbearingly warm.

His dark locks drip lightly on her exposed sun-kissed shoulders as they rode the harsh waves that covered them just above their knees. The arm he has around her involuntary tightens as he pulls her closer to his hard form.

And she gasps, she just gasps when the reality of the situation finally dawns on them.

The fact that they were currently facing the rest of Rookie Nine, plus Sai and Team Gai.

The fact that everyone was just gaping at them.

.

.

.

And the fact that Uchiha Sasuke currently had both his hands on Haruno Sakura's breasts.

Her white bikini top floats slyly by a few meters away.

He wonders how it managed to stray so far in such a short while.

And the former wanderer berates himself inwardly for having been too stunned to think of any other way than this.

There were a lot of possibilities actually.

He could've just pushed her under the water, it might have hurt, but she was a strong kunoichi who had experienced worst.

Or he simply could've flashed in front of her, the people at the sidelines would have seen but at least... No,...no one was allowed to see.

Or maybe

He could've just burned down the volleyball net to have all of them look at something else.

But nope.

The moment his girlfriend's bikini string started unwinding as she jumped up to hit the ball with her powerful fist,

(The volleyball by the way, ended up hitting Rock Lee on the face, though the Konoha beast wasted no time in praising the cherry blossom for being blessed with the spring of youth.)

And the moment her slim form made contact with the ocean's waters as she lets out a victorious "Shannaro!",

Her pearly white, oh, and strapless bathing suit came undone.

And as those skimpy traitors began to slide an inch down, Sasuke couldn't help but let his instinct take him to his probably oblivious teammate. However, instead of pushing the garment back to her sexy physique, his hands ended up under them...

That was how it happened.

That was how his hands (He thanks his past self for finally giving in to the pinkette's request of accepting the artificial limb.) ended up in the most embarrassing position they ever found themselves in while in public.

Over Sakura's boobs.

For the first time.

With their friends' shocked faces there to witness it.

And Sasuke almost whines. He almost whines.

"Teme?!"

"What the hell Uchiha? Akamaru! Don't look!"

"Oh my beloved cherry blossom, your purity has been tainted."

"Traitor. You're a pervert."

"Sakura-san... "

"Oh my forehead! He finally made a move!"

"This is... troublesome."

"Naruto-kun, did you... see it?"

"Shut up for a minute!"

Her enraged voice shakes his whole person, and her erratic breathing prompts his heart to try to catch up to it. Sasuke couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing at all. She was gonna punch him. She was so gonna punch him. He looks up to the sky and allows his mismatched irises to relax as they focus on the seagulls floating above them.

Might as well enjoy it, his hormones tell him. She'll never let him near her again. Or she'll probably tear his limbs off. He was after all, groping her... at a beach,... with their friends around them... So... he tells himself to calm down and to wait for the impact. To allow himself to finally take a minute to assess how his koibito feels like.

Soft.

Full.

Perky.

Just the right fit in his hands.

and

Perky.

Real perky.

On the outside, he was a total mask of absolute indifference. It almost seemed like what he did had no effect on him at all.

But it did.

It really did.

For some time now, with their tongues in each other's mouths, and their hands exploring their partner's bodies but never quite reaching the next step, Sasuke had wondered how she'd feel like. How Sakura would actually respond to his forward touch... A part of him he wishes to ignore twitches at the thought.

"Sasuke-kun..."

He gulps down his nervousness.

"Sasuke you idiot! Release Sakura-chan's boobs!"

Their blonde teammate's irritating screech dispels his ears' ringing and Sasuke, by brotherly instinct, stupidly decides that it is the right moment to bicker with him.

"If I do, you'll see my girlfriend's breasts."

"Yeah, but I, you..." an uncontrollable blush graces the Jinchuuriki's cheeks.

"Idiots. If you guys don't turn around right this second, I swear that all of you, except the girls, will have broken bones by the time I'm done with you.

And that's when everybody, including the females, face the opposite way to give the couple some privacy.

For some reason, Sasuke feels completely alone now.

And though he enjoys being alone with the young pinkette, this situation actually scares him a little. So he takes a deep breath.

"Uhm. Sasuke-kun?"

Her soft voice, again, stirs his insides. He is sure that she is blushing right now.

"Sakura."

"What is your next p-plan?"

She stutters and the young Uchiha blushes with the fact that she was also unsure of what to do.

And the fact that his hands were still holding her soft... soft...

"Ne, we have to do something, the waves carried it far so quickly."

"Hn."

He tilts his head to the side and spots the offending garment floating on the other side of the net, approximately thirty-two feet away from...

Naruto.

Of all people.

"I guess we can try wading into the waist-deep part of the beach? And I can just sit and cover... uhm... myself, while you go get it for me? Onegai."

He subtly nods his head and starts taking a step to his right.

"Wait."

The confused young man stiffens again.

"Could you... let go of me?"

.

.

.

"Other people will see."

It had occurred to him that they were not the only people on the beach, inevitably, their little spectacle had attracted a few civilians.

"Right..."

He takes another step and she follows him. In truth, it only really took them about nine steps to get to where they wanted, but it seemed like an eternity. And as Sasuke checked his surroundings to make sure that the coast was clear and that his girlfriend was submerged in water for anyone else to see her state of undress, the sharingan wielder, carefully, and a bit regretfully takes his hands off her.

It wasn't how he envisioned it, going to second base with her.

But as Uchiha Sasuke bends down to get her white bikini top, his hands wouldn't stop shaking, and his pulse wouldn't stop throbbing, and the heat, the heat would not go away.

There was no turning back now.

He decides that he will definitely make things better for them.

The next time he touches her will be in the confines of their bedroom.

And it wouldn't be by accident and in mortification.

It would be special.

He would make sure of it.

He did after all book the largest suite for the both of them during this summer trip.

(Much to the other ninjas' envy.)

.

.

.

His hands continue to burn with the feel of her as Sasuke allows the young sannin some time to put the bikini top on again. But he almost looses his footing when Yamanaka Ino's voice reaches his ears as she teasingly helps Sakura adjust her swimsuit.

.

.

.

"Forehead, you do realize that you could've just replaced his hands with yours instead of walking to deeper waters with those on your boobs don't you?"

__________________________

A.N.:

Koibito - sweetheart

I will probably make a part two of this. This little thought has been typed up in my phone for quite some time now. Hee hee. I hope you guys enjoyed that!

Here's a little announcement for my plans for my future SasuSaku fics. I've already typed up most of the next chapter of "Revolution" and will hopefully be uploading it soon. I have a new story coming up too. It will be a multi-chapter fic which will have a different circumstance after the Fourth War. It will also feature one of my artworks. I'm also planning to write a one or three-chapter story about what happened between chapter 16 and 17 of Sorega ai deshou. (I wanna know if anyone is interested in reading that.) And another relating to the "White Wine, Bitter Sunlight Series" which will tie up all loose ends.

Most of these stories have been typed up or have concept outlines but i do hope I'll be able to share them soon. Again, thank you all for reading and especially for your reviews! They continue to inspire me to keep writing.

Oh, for my Love & Roll fic, I know you guys already have an idea what its basic plot is. I have a couple of ideas but would like to hear about yours too. Maybe like a prompt or something?

P.S.:

Aside from writing, I'm actually experimenting with honing my skills in sketching and painting. It's been so long since I've drawn SasuSaku and unfortunately I left all my sketchpads at home, in another country. So I bought one and have started drawing and painting. 

And my postscript is too long.

R & R!

Eat, Pray, Love, Breathe and Think SasuSaku

[keramalusundeep]

‘KABALI’ PEAKED AT THE TRAILER. HERE’S WHY

First of all, I don’t do movie reviews. I am the guy who just watches a movie and then maybe talks about it during lunch at work to avoid awkward silences. So, why am I writing this review about a movie I watched a half hour ago? Because you know, how sometimes when you have a near death experience, your perspectives change and suddenly you want to do all this good in life, save lives, be a better person? Yeah, I am in that zone right now. I have been hit by something powerful. And it’s time to share it with the rest of my species.

Two months before today, I accidentally came across the trailer of Kabali on YouTube. I was immediately arrested by the killer original soundtrack for the movie. That’s where it had begun, for me.

Every time I watched the trailer at home, I’d go on and on to my wife about how I would not miss this movie. I don’t know why I had suddenly become such an aggressive fan of Rajinikanth. My mom was always a diehard fan, though. Two decades ago, I stumbled upon a large biology drawing book that had cut-out pictures and childlike hand-drawn sketches of him at my house in Bangalore. The book belonged to my mother. When I confronted her, she said that she was supposed to get rid of that book after marriage, but somehow it had come along with her. Super jealous of the superstar, my father would often mock Rajinikanth. I don’t blame him. He was just an ordinary South Indian man born in a conservative family. He is well educated and open-minded, yes, but he is still a man. I mean, when my wife used to look at Jason Momoa’s buttocks in Game of Thrones, I would run to the bedroom and do 50 squats and come out like I was all chill.

When you watch a Rajinikanth film, you better go to a local theatre. Not the multiplex ones where one is too shy to even release a silent fart. No, go to a local theatre. The kind where women best not venture. That’s the kind of place where you will know what it is like to be a Rajini fan.

In these theatres, as the lights dim, a new wave of energy crackles to life. Whistles, throat-burning screaming, firecrackers, shirtless dancing on seats. The entire room becomes a five-dimensional stimulation ride. Your seats rock. The walls vibrate. You smell smoke. It’s exhilarating to witness the madness, but deafening and annoying beyond a point as you can’t hear shit. Because from the time Rajini’s name pops up in the opening credits till the interval (where the fans begin to get a little tired), it’s a war zone. You would be lucky if you came out of the theatre entirely unbroken.

When you are watching a Rajinikanth movie, there is a 3000% chance that you will see something superhuman. Death-defying. Nonconforming to every law of nature. But you tell your mind to hush. During a Rajinikanth movie, only his fans can make a sound. If you are a non-fan and say something mocking, well, leave the address to your coffin.

Well, this time, I watched the film in a multiplex. Families and kids. So even if I had said something, I probably wouldn’t have got my ass whooped. Still, I watched quietly and saved everything for my keyboard. So now I’m going to spill my shit out. Here, I am Spartacus. Unyielding. Veracious.

Being 2016, being Kabali, being Rajini, you’d think, mafia being the spine of the story, it’d have all the beef in the universe to make Martin Scorsese take note. The opening scene, is the ending scene. When will writers learn that when you are showing Rajinikanth to be the gangster (especially when he is being released from jail), you know for sure that all his enemy gangsters will be dead, no matter what! Keep a little surprise, man! Henceforth, I want Santa Claus to write all the scripts for Rajini movies.

The story takes place in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. It’s a beautiful city. But they decided to show only the dark world. The Tamils. Their dark skin. Their dark labour problems. Their dark mafia. In all of this darkness, the only contrast in the colour palette was the ostentatious bling that these gangstas flaunted from start to finish.

After all these great movies in the West about drugs and gangsters, you’d go on to have this divine hope that the Tamil industry would go easy on making every hero a superhero. But nope. First of all, what kind of a gangster is comfortable with only a handful of business associates who also moonlight as security? I comprehend the fact that it is Rajinikanth and he can take care of himself, but he is old now. Besides, he carries only one gun. Not even an extra magazine!

When you are out of commission for 25 years, don’t you need money when you come back? Don’t you still need to be in business? Apparently, when Rajini is a gangster you don’t need to do gangster business to earn money. You just have it all sorted. Somehow he is able to run a free school for drop outs, drug addicts and ex-gangster kids. The funny part is, he himself is a gangster and hires kids on his team. So the point is that when you are in Kabali’s gangster squad, you don’t need to be rehabilitated, life’s all good.

P.A. Ranjith, before I forget, take this — you suck. You suck big time. Basha, for that time, had so much more swag than you have managed to squeeze out of Kabali. To a gangster, his family is very important. I mean to all of us, families are important. But to a gangster, it’s more of a prestige issue. If a gangster has let his enemy harm his family, it would convey that he is weak, incapable of protecting his own family . . . how then will he protect his business and other people who are dependent on him? But you could have involved his family saga in the movie in such a better way. There was no need for all the flashbacks. You have permanently ruined “once upon a time” for me.

I still cannot digest the fact that the director completely omitted to show us or explain Kabali’s business model. Maybe every time Kabali and his men whimsically went after the villains and delivered some soggy dialogues the producers would give them some candy money? Also, I think Indian movies should stop making the villains troll the hero and his affiliated people with dummy guns. Can’t take that shit anymore. If you want to shoot, just pull that plastic trigger and be done with it. Why do you have so many extras pointing all those useless toy guns at one old guy and still end up getting laid low by his stunt double?

Radhika Apte, who plays Rajini’s wife in the movie is a good actor. However, in this movie, she is a bad actor. When you have a bad script and a dumbass director, even a lion becomes a pig. I was happy to know that she was killed by the villains. Good riddance, I thought that’s what she must have thought. But no, she was brought back from the dead 25 years later and made to run for her life again. What torture, marrying Kabali!

Dhansika has tried to play a version of Rooney Mara in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, but the result is extremely unpleasing. The director concluded, perhaps, that if she is a girl and an assassin, she’s got to sport a punk bob cut and a lot of badly done temporary tattoos (which keep drastically changing and moving places). By the way, she is Kabali’s daughter, who he reunites with. Sadly.

What’s with the suit? I thought when you wore a suit, you had the license to kill. Oh, wait a minute! That was 007. In Kabali, if you wore a suit, well, you have the license to get killed.

The villain gangsters are real pussies, I tell you. I can’t fathom why they are so scared of Kabali. He is just a vintage chap with a few old friends who masturbate on the rusted bullets in their guns. Then again, it is Rajini. He can get bin Laden to marry Gandhi if he wanted to.

Movies in the south always thrive on comedy. In Kabali, there is nothing to laugh about. Nothing to cry for. Absolutely nothing to rejoice about. The soundtrack was the only saving grace. The movie was a drab, unsexy 150-minute quest for finding his family, which he could very well have done without us having to sit and watch. I liked the free trailer on YouTube. Not the full movie I spent 200 bucks for. Kabali, no magizhchi for you.

Reminds me of the famous Bruce Lee quote: “I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.” With all due reverence and respect for you as a great human being, I am afraid, Rajinikanth Sir, we are no longer afraid of your 10,000th kick. You have overdone it. It’s the same kick and it doesn’t give us any kick anymore. I know it’s the directors asking you to do lame stuff, not you per se. However, you could say no to them, yes? Maybe make meaningful cinema? You have earned that. But not the right to disappoint us, after all that hype.

P.S. Watch out for Tony Stark. He makes a sensational cameo.

Photo by Soloman Soh

[davidmann95]

What creative teams could do the various possible dc All-Star books and what format they would be. My idea is Noelle Stevens doing a fun Aquaman graphic novel with the same tone as Nimona, Tom King and Mitch Gerards doing a 12 issue Green Lantern story (picture something like a combination of Sheriff of Babylon and Omega Men where two green lantern partners find the body of Hal Jordan on their beat in the first issue) and Tula Lotay doing the art for Wonder Woman. Do you have any possible ideas?

I’d definitely be up for some more All-Star, so long as it was treated as the prestige product it deserves to be. That’s my biggest issue with the current All-Star Batman, the name itself: it’s a great book, but as an in-continuity ongoing with a changing roster of artists, it’s hard to read the name as much other than a cash-in (though at least it means DC’s pulling from Superman to try and make Batman look cooler for a change, rather than the other way around). I actually thought The Legend of Wonder Woman was continuing admirably in the tradition of the All-Star titles, but that project’s been scrapped - a damn shame, especially given the creators talked about pitches for follow-ups with other characters; I’d of course have particularly loved to see their The Legend of Superman.

In any case, I thought about whether or not to ‘recast’ Superman and Batman for this as well - the original plan after all was that both would be ongoings, starting with a completely fresh slate with each new creative teams, until Superman became an untouchable classic, and Batman became radioactive for awhile (though I still wanna see Dark Knight, Boy Wonder), ruining the idea. In the end, I’m leaving Superman alone; any impetus to do more All-Star books in the first place would surely be to follow in the footsteps of that book, so there’s no reason to mess with it.* Batman on the other hand, I could see DC deciding to revise a bit.

I suggested before I’d be interested in seeing Tom King’s version of All-Star Batman and Robin the Boy Wonder, probably with either Jim Lee or Mikel Janin again. But here’s an alternative proposal: Al Ewing and Chris Samnee. Samnee is I think an obvious choice; Ewing has mentioned his love for The Brave and the Bold and Morrison’s Batman, and while I don’t know that he’d have a full run in him for the character the way I expect he would for a lot of DC’s other heavy-hitters, I bet he could put out a really spectacular 12-issue story of the origin of the greatest crime-fighting team of all time.

For All-Star Wonder Woman I’d go with Fiona Staples as the artist, on the basis that she rocks and would be perfect for Diana’s world. I thought about Marguerite Bennett writing it, but while I think she’d fit excellently for the main book, I ultimately decided on Holly Black. I’ve only read the first trade of her work on Lucifer (I want to catch up on the original series before going further), but she did some really strong, atmospheric high-concept stories in there, an approach I think would translate very well.

With All-Star Flash, I’d be really curious to see what Warren Ellis would do. It’d be a big hit or a big miss - when he gives a shit with his corporate work he does some all-time-best material (no joke, he’s easily in the top ten Batman writers on the strength of a short story with Jim Lee and the crossover issue in Planetary), but when he doesn’t you can tell. I’d be willing to bank on him doing something really special with this one though: personally, I’d frame it as Barry and Wally’s first excursion into the Multiverse and meeting with Jay Garrick, building into a bigger adventure that would be their first encounter with the Speed Force. I don’t know that he’d be onboard for the fanboy joy aspect of the story that’s so part and parcel of the Flash, but I think his wit, his weird ideas and his storytelling sensibilities could knock it out of the park here under the right circumstances. I’d have Ron Salas on art; his Flash art is exceptional, and I think his style would mesh well with Ellis.

All-Star Green Lantern is a Jonathan Hickman joint, both written and drawn by him. Let him do whatever weird cosmic stuff he wants.

I decided on Tom King and Tula Lotay for All-Star Aquaman. King I think could really nail the more wistful, quiet tone I imagine would work for Arthur, mixed with the politics that inevitably spring up in stories about royalty, while still bringing the action when necessary and keeping it all fun to read. Tula Lotay is I think a plain-as-day fit for an auteur underwater sci-fi magical superhero book that’d also probably have a lot of talking.

There’d almost certainly be an All-Star Justice League book to pull all these together, and my first instinct was to go back to Morrison. But he’s already written All-Star Superman, a massive JLA run and a JLA OGN, so while I’d hardly complain if we really got this by him, for the purposes of this proposal I think it’d be perfectly fair to hand this to someone else. I’d have that someone else be Steve Orlando, who I’d trust as much as anyone alive to do the ultimate iconic high-action Justice League epic, and I think he’d follow up on the ideas presented by the other books without missing a beat. Doc Shaner draws it: his work comes closest to the collective eyes-tilted-towards-the-stars tone I imagine these books striking. And also he’s real good at drawing, especially DC characters.

* Not that I could never imagine any kind of Superman follow-up at all; I still think it’s likely DC will get Morrison to do something related to it next year. I even came up with a little list of how I’d do some spin-offs one time. But a straight-up new story titled All-Star Superman isn’t happening anymore than DC would put out a Sandman book completely unrelated to Neil Gaiman’s stuff.

[biofunmy]

Retracing Truman Capote’s Moment in the Mediterranean Sun

Long before the alcohol and depression, the drug-fueled nights at New York’s Studio 54 and the promise of a Proustian novel that would never fully materialize, Truman Capote was heralded as one of the country’s most promising young writers. It was this Capote who met fellow writer Jack Dunphy in 1948. The two would end up devoted companions for 35 years. But first, Capote needed to win him over. So he hatched a plan: they would head to Italy.

After brief stopovers in Venice, Florence, Rome and Naples, the couple headed to Ischia, a volcanic island off the coast of Naples. They trekked by horse-drawn buggy, with children clinging to their carriage, and bleating goats scurrying past, to Forio, then a small fishing village, where they stayed for nearly three months.

That time would reverberate: It cemented the still fragile legs of the new relationship, and it established for Capote a routine that would serve him well — escaping to the Mediterranean to write.

“Jack was very much part of the equation. He wanted to travel, and Truman wanted to please him,” said Gerald Clarke, author of the authoritative “Capote: A Biography.”

“But Truman was also pleasing himself. Though he came from a small town in Alabama, he loved New York, loved it so much that he found it hard to write when it was so tempting to go out on the town,” Mr. Clarke told me. “New York was a kind of addiction. He realized that if he wanted to write — and that’s all he wanted to do — he would have to do it elsewhere.”

While Capote would rise to become arguably New York’s greatest literary and social lion of the ’60s, whose iconic Black and White Ball at the Plaza hotel in Manhattan in 1966 would be called the “party of the century,” with boldfaced names from Frank Sinatra to the Maharani of Jaipur mingling behind costume masks, the Capote who bunked in Forio knew his best work could only be done in self-imposed exile.

His time living in the small coastal towns and villages of southern Italy and Spain allowed him to produce a remarkable output that matched his outsized ambition. Last spring and summer, I went in search of these seaside idylls, hoping to retrace a long ago golden boy’s moment in the sun.

On a cool, crisp morning last May, I boarded a ferry from Naples, watching the city’s pastel-colored buildings give way to the blur of glamorous Capri in the distance. An hour and a half later, I pulled into Forio, on Ischia’s western coast, and spotted the Pensione Di Lustro, the couple’s former residence, just opposite the small, palm-tree lined harbor.

“It is the pleasantest pensione in Forio, an interesting bargain, too,” wrote Capote in his 1949 essay “Ischia.” For about $200 a month, they had “two huge rooms with great expanses of tiled floor” overlooking the sea, along with two five-course meals a day.

Ischia’s fortunes have risen markedly over the years, with a thriving tourism scene built on its natural thermal springs. Yet little has changed at the Pensione Di Lustro, where Capote and Dunphy were only the ninth and 10th American guests since the pensione was established, and where the playwright Tennessee Williams also joined them briefly.

No. 3, Capote’s, still looked much as he had described it, a large room with a high, vaulted ceiling, where I could imagine him toiling away on “Summer Crossing,” a previously tossed aside novel that he had once again picked up and was published posthumously in 2005.

In the small blue-and-white tiled kitchen of the 10-room pensione, I found Gioconda Di Lustro, who at 19 at the time of the couple’s stay was their cook and maid, and figured prominently in Capote’s “Ischia” essay. “Gioconda speaks no English, and my Italian is — well, never mind. Nevertheless, we are confidantes,” Capote wrote.

“He was very spirited and always animated,” Ms. Di Lustro told me in Italian, recalling how they would bake together in that very kitchen.

Gray-haired yet still quite sturdy at 88, Ms. Di Lustro now owns the hotel with two daughters, Maria Teresa and Giuseppina Di Lustro. The five-course lunches have been done away with, but that evening, I sat down to a lengthy meal similar to what Capote and Dunphy would have enjoyed — starting with a delicious tomato-and-eggplant risotto and ending with a traditional pastiera cake — all cooked and served by Ms. Di Lustro and her middle-aged daughters. (The cost? Still, as Capote had remarked, “an interesting bargain” at 70 euros, or $79, for dinner and a room that night.)

But Capote did more than just work and eat well in Ischia. He was also mesmerized by the island’s primitive beauty, whose appeal, he wrote in his essay, was in its “straight-dropping volcanic cliffs,” with rocks below like “sleeping dinosaurs.”

Armed with a map dotted with markings made by Ms. Di Lustro and her two daughters of where they thought Capote and Dunphy might have gone, I headed off to see how much of it remained.

On a sloping path toward the sea, where spotted green lizards darted by my feet, I found that I had Cava dell’Isola, a small beach that’s often crowded in summer, all to myself.

But my favorite spot was further south, past small citrus groves heaving with lemons, near the pretty, car-free village of Sant’Angelo. While a number of sprawling thermal parks have sprung up along the island, the hot springs of Sorgeto, frequented since Roman times for its naturally heated waters, remains its most dramatic.

Situated at the bottom of a vertigo-inducing set of steps, its splendor comes all in a rush, with the crashing of the waves amplified by immense cliffs that enclose the bay on three sides. My timing turned out to be off, though — the high tide rendered the waters stone-cold — but wading knee deep into a nearby grotto, I found small pools of steaming hot water, an inkling of Sorgeto’s famed lures.

Capote’s time in Ischia established a productive routine, one that his Random House editor, Robert Linscott, recognized. A year later, Capote and Dunphy headed back to Italy in April, this time to Taormina on Sicily’s eastern coast. But when the editor got wind that Capote wanted to leave the island, Linscott practically forbade him from doing so without a completed book manuscript.

That manuscript about an unlikely group of outcasts hiding out in a treehouse in the Deep South, which Capote wrote in its entirety in the hilltop town of Taormina, would be published as “The Grass Harp” in 1951. Looking closely, glimpses of Capote’s Taormina come through in the book.

These days, the Italian resort town draws both the international jet set and flag-carrying tour guides. But the seaside town to which Capote and Dunphy arrived was far quieter, still recovering from the aftermath of World War II.

On a visit last June, I found Taormina’s small center teeming with crowds, but their numbers dissipated as soon as I walked out of the Porta Messina, the town’s historic northern gateway. Past two more stone arches, I found Villa Britannia, whose young owner, Louisa Vittorio, has a unique claim to Capote’s literary heritage here: Various family members including her father, Nino Vittorio, are among the colorful characters in Capote’s 1951 essay “Fontana Vecchia,” and still live on the same narrow street.

That essay takes its name from Capote and Dunphy’s residence in Taormina, a rose-colored house situated diagonally above Villa Britannia. While Fontana Vecchia is a private residence, long owned by Ms. Vittorio’s cousin, Salvatore Galeano, and not normally open to the public, they gave me a special tour.

And when I stepped out onto its terrace, clung precipitously off the hillside, it struck me: While Capote, as a young boy in Alabama, often escaped with his childhood friend, the writer Harper Lee, to a backyard treehouse — the obvious model for the treehouse in “The Grass Harp” — here, too, perhaps, was another inspiration, a soaring sanctuary far removed from the social demands of his Manhattan life.

At Villa Britannia, I tried to slip into Capote’s writing-and-sea routine, working in the morning on the private terrace of my “Truman Capote” suite, surrounded by cypress trees and their cones, with a view of the Calabrian shores in the distance.

It was hard to peel myself from the exquisite villa and its tiny garden of jacaranda and oleander blooms to go to the sea. But I was rewarded for making the trek downhill — made infinitely easier by cable car, installed in 1992 — with the stunning Isola Bella, Capote’s favorite beach, a curving slip of pebbly shoreline that overlooks a beautiful nature preserve of the same name.

Seven years later and back in New York, Capote stumbled across a headline in this paper — “Wealthy Farmer, 3 of Family Slain” — in November 1959. With the help of his childhood friend, Lee, Capote spent roughly three months in the high plains of western Kansas to research what was originally conceived as a relatively short article for The New Yorker. When that limited scope soon gave way to what would run as four installments in the magazine and become “In Cold Blood,” his “nonfiction novel” much praised for its atmospheric, filmic detail, Capote once again headed across the Atlantic.

With Dunphy by his side and suitcases of typed notes, Capote in April 1960 arrived in Palamós, a vibrant seaside town north of Barcelona long considered a retreat for city dwellers.

On a searingly hot sunny morning in early August, I met Maria Àngels Solé, a tour guide at the Fishing Museum, which offers a “Palamós of Truman Capote” tour most summers.

We walked up the pedestrian-only Carrer Major, the town’s bustling main street, where she pointed out the locations of the shops Capote frequented. Near the port, we found the plaque that marked the location of Capote’s first villa, a five-story apartment complex in its place.

Two of Capote’s other homes are similarly long gone, said Josep Colomer, the longstanding owner of one of Palamós’s most storied and oldest hotels, Hotel Trias. I had arranged to meet him and his wife, Anna Maria Kammüller, in the lobby, where they said Capote often came in the mornings to read his newspapers over a gin martini.

While the town of Palamós is much changed, Castell-Cap Roig, a protected area spread over 2,700 acres of red granite cliffs, towering pine trees and secluded coves, remains much the same. Among its smattering of houses is a large villa, above the cove of Sanià, which Mr. Colomer said he had arranged for Capote to rent during his last spring and summer in Palamós.

The next day, that’s where I headed, hearing only my own footfall on dried pine needles, and the incessant siren song of humming cicadas along a forest path.

Then after about a 20-minute trek, with pine trees giving way to a field of wispy yellow and pink wildflowers, I saw it, Capote’s last — and grandest — home on the Mediterranean, a whitewashed villa with a dark green gate. Here he had toiled on the third, and longest, portion of “In Cold Blood,” and entertained the occasional famous friend, including Gloria Vanderbilt, whose yacht was anchored in the cove.

The novel would be far lengthier and more complex than anything Capote had ever attempted before. Researching such a gruesome subject, getting so emotionally close to the murderers — and watching their executions — would take a psychological toll.

Sanià cove isn’t accessible to the public by foot, so I headed down a steep, stone path to Canyers, a cove adjacent to Capote’s private sanctuary. There, I found water so crystal clear I could see straight through to the seashells on the rocks as I waded in. Gazing out at the endless blue-green of the sea, I felt an utter stillness and calm that I imagined Capote, too, must have felt looking out onto the water.

Capote considered purchasing either the Spanish villa or another house nearby but acquiesced to Dunphy, who loved to ski and was eager to return to Verbier, Switzerland where they had previously spent several winters. After they left the Spanish coast in the fall of 1962, they never lived together along the Mediterranean again. In 1966, “In Cold Blood” became a best-selling book, marking both the height of Capote’s fame and achievement, but also the beginning of his eventual downfall.

Before all that, though, he had his craggy cliffs, his secluded beaches, the exquisite sensation of cool seawater on sun-warmed skin — but above all, his great love — the charmed contours of the private life of a public writer still in his prime.

Ratha Tep, based in Dublin, is a frequent contributor to the Travel section.

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[williamsefton]

Which Podcasts Should Web Designers And Developers Be Listening To?

Which Podcasts Should Web Designers And Developers Be Listening To?

Ricky Onsman

2018-04-18T13:45:00+02:002018-04-18T11:56:08+00:00

We asked the Smashing community what podcasts they listened to, aiming to compile a shortlist of current podcasts for web designers and developers. We had what can only be called a very strong response — both in number and in passion.

First, we winnowed out the podcasts that were on a broader theme (e.g. creativity, mentoring, leadership), on a narrower theme (e.g. on one specific WordPress theme) or on a completely different theme (e.g. car maintenance — I’m sure it was well-intentioned).

When we filtered out those that had produced no new content in the last three months or more (although then we did have to make some exceptions, as you’ll see), and ordered the rest according to how many times they were nominated, we had a graded shortlist of 55.

Agreed, that’s not a very short shortlist.

So, we broke it down into five more reasonably sized shortlists:

Podcasts for web developers

Podcasts for web designers

Podcasts on the web, the Internet and technology

Business podcasts for web professionals

Podcasts that don’t have recent episodes (but do have great archives)

Obviously, it’s highly unlikely anyone could — or would want to — listen to every episode of every one of these podcasts. Still, we’re pretty sure that any web designer or developer will find a few podcasts in this lot that will suit their particular listening tastes.

Getting workflow just right ain't an easy task. So are proper estimates. Or alignment among different departments. That's why we've set up 'this-is-how-I-work'-sessions — with smart cookies sharing what works well for them. A part of the Smashing Membership, of course.

Explore features →

A couple of caveats before we begin:

We don’t claim to be comprehensive. These lists are drawn from suggestions from readers (not all of which were included) plus our own recommendations.

The descriptions are drawn from reader comments, summaries provided by the podcast provider and our own comments. Podcast running times and frequency are, by and large, approximate. The reality is podcasts tend to vary in length, and rarely stick to their stated schedule.

We’ve listed each podcast once only, even though several could qualify for more than one list.

We’ve excluded most videocasts. This is just for listening (videos probably deserve their own article).

Podcasts For Web Developers

Syntax

Wes Bos and Scott Tolinski dive deep into web development topics, explaining how they work and talking about their own experiences. They cover from JavaScript frameworks like React, to the latest advancements in CSS to simplifying web tooling. 30-70 minutes. Weekly.

Developer Tea

A podcast for developers designed to fit inside your tea break, a highly-concentrated, short, frequent podcast specifically for developers who like to learn on their tea (and coffee) break. The Spec Network also produces Design Details. 10-30 minutes. Every two days.

Web Platform Podcast

Covers the latest in browser features, standards, and the tools developers use to build for the web of today and beyond. Founded in 2014 by Erik Isaksen. Hosts Danny, Amal, Leon, and Justin are joined by a special guest to discuss the latest developments. 60 minutes. Weekly.

Devchat Podcasts

Fourteen podcasts with a range of hosts that each explore developments in a specific aspect of development or programming including Ruby, iOS, Angular, JavaScript, React, Rails, security, conference talks, and freelancing. 30-60 minutes. Weekly.

The Bike Shed

Hosts Derek Prior, Sean Griffin, Amanda Hill and guests discuss their development experience and challenges with Ruby, Rails, JavaScript, and whatever else is drawing their attention, admiration, or ire at any particular moment. 30-45 minutes. Weekly.

NodeUp

Hosted by Rod Vagg and a series of occasional co-hosts, this podcast features lengthy discussions with guests and panels about Node.js and Node-related topics. 30-90 minutes. Weekly / Monthly.

.NET Rocks

Carl Franklin and Richard Campbell host an internet audio talk show for anyone interested in programming on the Microsoft .NET platform, including basic information, tutorials, product developments, guests, tips and tricks. 60 minutes. Twice a week.

Three Devs and a Maybe

Join Michael Budd, Fraser Hart, Lewis Cains, and Edd Mann as they discuss software development, frequently joined by a guest on the show’s topic, ranging from daily developer life, PHP, frameworks, testing, good software design and programming languages. 45-60 minutes. Weekly.

Weekly Dev Tips

Hosted by experienced software architect, trainer, and entrepreneur Steve Smith, Weekly Dev Tips offers a variety of technical and career tips for software developers. Each tip is quick and to the point, describing a problem and one or more ways to solve that problem. 5-10 minutes. Weekly.

devMode.fm

Dedicated to the tools, techniques, and technologies used in modern web development. Each episode, Andrew Welch and Patrick Harrington lead a cadre of hosts discussing the latest hotness, pet peeves, and the frontend development technologies we use. 60-90 minutes. Twice a week.

CodeNewbie

Stories from people on their coding journey. New episodes published every Monday. The most supportive community of programmers and people learning to code. Founded by Saron Yitbarek. 30-60 minutes. Weekly.

Front End Happy Hour

A podcast featuring panels of engineers from @Netflix, @Evernote, @Atlassian and @LinkedIn talking over drinks about all things Front End development. 45-60 minutes. Every two weeks.

Under the Radar

From development and design to marketing and support, Under the Radar is all about independent app development. Hosted by David Smith and Marco Arment. 30 minutes. Weekly.

Hanselminutes

Scott Hanselman interviews movers and shakers in technology in this commute-time show. From Michio Kaku to Paul Lutus, Ward Cunningham to Kimberly Bryant, Hanselminutes is talk radio guaranteed not to waste your time. 30 minutes. Weekly.

Fixate on Code

Since October 2017, Larry Botha from South African design agency Fixate has been interviewing well known achievers in web design and development on how to help front end developers write better code. 30 minutes. Weekly.

Podcasts For Web Designers

99% Invisible

Design is everywhere in our lives, perhaps most importantly in the places where we’ve just stopped noticing. 99% Invisible is a weekly exploration of the process and power of design and architecture, from award winning producer Roman Mars. 20-45 minutes. Weekly.

Design Details

A show about the people who design our favorite products, hosted by Bryn Jackson and Brian Lovin. The Spec Network also produces Developer Tea. 60-90 minutes. Weekly.

Presentable

Host Jeffrey Veen brings over two decades of experience as a designer, developer, entrepreneur, and investor as he chats with guests about how we design and build the products that are shaping our digital future and how design is changing the world. 45-60 minutes. Weekly.

Responsive Web Design

In each episode, Karen McGrane and Ethan Marcotte (who coined the term “responsive web design”) interview the people who make responsive redesigns happen. 15-30 minutes. Weekly. (STOP PRESS: Karen and Ethan issued their final episode of this podcast on 26 March 2018.)

RWD Podcast

Host Justin Avery explores new and emerging web technologies, chats with web industry leaders and digs into all aspects of responsive web design. 10-60 minutes. Weekly / Monthly.

UXPodcast

Business, technology and people in digital media. Moving the conversation beyond the traditional realm of User Experience. Hosted by Per Axbom and James Royal-Lawson from Sweden. 30-45 minutes. Every two weeks.

UXpod

A free-ranging set of discussions on matters of interest to people involved in user experience design, website design, and usability in general. Gerry Gaffney set this up to provide a platform for discussing topics of interest to UX practitioners. 30-45 minutes. Weekly / Monthly.

UX-radio

A podcast about IA, UX and Design that features collaborative discussions with industry experts to inspire, educate and share resources with the community. Created by Lara Fedoroff and co-hosted with Chris Chandler. 30-45 minutes. Weekly / Monthly.

User Defenders

Host Jason Ogle aims to highlight inspirational UX Designers leading the way in their craft, by diving deeper into who they are, and what makes them tick/successful, in order to inspire and equip those aspiring to do the same. 30-90 minutes. Weekly.

The Drunken UX Podcast

Our hosts Michael Fienen and Aaron Hill look at issues facing websites and developers that impact the way we all use the web. “In the process, we’ll drink drinks, share thoughts, and hopefully make you laugh a little.” 60 minutes. Twice a week.

UI Breakfast Podcast

Join Jane Portman for conversations about UI/UX design, products, marketing, and so much more, with awesome guests who are industry experts ready to share actionable knowledge. 30-60 minutes. Weekly.

Efficiently Effective

Saskia Videler keeps us up to date with what’s happening in the field of UX and content strategy, aiming to help content experts, UX professionals and others create better digital experiences. 25-40 minutes. Monthly.

The Honest Designers Show

Hosts Tom Ross, Ian Barnard, Dustin Lee and Lisa Glanz have each found success in their creative fields and are here to give struggling designers a completely honest, under the hood look at what it takes to flourish in the modern world. 30-60 minutes. Weekly.

Design Life

A podcast about design and side projects for motivated creators. Femke von Schoonhoven and Charli Prangley (serial side project addicts) saw a gap in the market for a conversational show hosted by two females about design and issues young creatives face. 30-45 minutes. Weekly.

Layout FM

A weekly podcast about design, technology, programming and everything else hosted by Kevin Clark and Rafael Conde. 60-90 minutes. Weekly.

Bread Time

Gabriel Valdivia and Charlie Deets host this micro-podcast about design and technology, the impact of each on the other, and the impact of them both on all of us. 10-30 minutes. Weekly.

The Deeply Graphic DesignCast

Every episode covers a new graphic design-related topic, and a few relevant tangents along the way. Wes McDowell and his co-hosts also answer listener-submitted questions in every episode. 60 minutes. Every two weeks.

Podcasts On The Web, The Internet, And Technology

The Big Web Show

Veteran web designer and industry standards champion Jeffrey Zeldman is joined by special guests to address topics like web publishing, art direction, content strategy, typography, web technology, and more. 60 minutes. Weekly.

ShopTalk

A podcast about front end web design, development and UX. Each week Chris Coyier and Dave Rupert are joined by a special guest to talk shop and answer listener submitted questions. 60 minutes. Weekly.

Boagworld

Paul Boag and Marcus Lillington are joined by a variety of guests to discuss a range of web design related topics. Fun, informative and quintessentially British, with content for designers, developers and website owners, something for everybody. 60 minutes. Weekly.

The Changelog

Conversations with the hackers, leaders, and innovators of open source. Hosts Adam Stacoviak and Jerod Santo do in-depth interviews with the best and brightest software engineers, hackers, leaders, and innovators. 60-90 minutes. Weekly.

Back to Front Show

Topics under discussion hosted by Keir Whitaker and Kieran Masterton include remote working, working in the web industry, productivity, hipster beards and much more. Released irregularly but always produced with passion. 30-60 minutes. Weekly / Monthly.

The Next Billion Seconds

The coming “next billion seconds” are the most important in human history, as technology transforms the way we live and work. Mark Pesce talks to some of the brightest minds shaping our world. 30-60 minutes. Every two weeks.

Toolsday

Hosted by Una Kravets and Chris Dhanaraj, Toolsday is about the latest in tech tools, tips, and tricks. 30 minutes. Weekly.

Reply All

A podcast about the internet, often delving deeper into modern life. Hosted by PJ Vogt and Alex Goldman from US narrative podcasting company Gimlet Media. 30-60 minutes. Weekly.

CTRL+CLICK CAST

Diverse voices from industry leaders and innovators, who tackle everything from design, code and CMS, to culture and business challenges. Focused, topical discussions hosted by Lea Alcantara and Emily Lewis. 60 minutes. Every two weeks.

Modern Web

Explores next generation frameworks, standards, and techniques. Hosted by Tracy Lee. Topics include EmberJS, ReactJS, AngularJS, ES2015, RxJS, functional reactive programming. 60 minutes. Weekly.

Relative Paths

A UK based podcast on “web development and stuff like that” for web industry types. Hosted by Mark Phoenix and Ben Hutchings. 60 minutes. Every two weeks.

Business Podcasts For Web Professionals

The Businessology Show

The Businessology Show is a podcast about the business of design and the design of business, hosted by CPA/coach Jason Blumer. 30 minutes. Monthly.

CodePen Radio

Chris Coyier, Alex Vazquez, and Tim Sabat, the co-founders of CodePen, talk about the ins and outs of running a small web software business. The good, the bad, and the ugly. 30 minutes. Weekly.

BizCraft

Podcast about the business side of web design, recorded live almost every two weeks. Your hosts are Carl Smith of nGen Works and Gene Crawford of UnmatchedStyle. 45-60 minutes. Every two weeks.

Podcasts That Don’t Have Recent Episodes (But Do Have Great Archives)

Design Review Podcast

No chit-chat, just focused in-depth discussions about design topics that matter. Jonathan Shariat and Chris Liu are your hosts and bring to the table passion and years of experience. 30-60 minutes. Every two weeks. Last episode 26 November 2017.

Style Guide Podcast

A small batch series of interviews (20 in total) on Style Guides, hosted by Anna Debenham and Brad Frost, with high profile designer guests. 45 minutes. Weekly. Last episode 19 November 2017.

True North

Looks to uncover the stories of everyday people creating and designing, and highlight the research and testing that drives innovation. Produced by Loop11. 15-60 minutes. Every two weeks. Last episode 18 October 2017

UIE.fm Master Feed

Get all episodes from every show on the UIE network in this master feed: UIE Book Corner (with Adam Churchill) and The UIE Podcast (with Jared Spool) plus some archived older shows. 15-60 minutes. Weekly. Last episode 4 October 2017.

Let’s Make Mistakes

A podcast about design with your hosts, Mike Monteiro, Liam Campbell, Steph Monette, and Seven Morris, plus a range of guests who discuss good design, business and ethics. 45-60 minutes. Weekly / Monthly. Last episode 3 August 2017.

Motion and Meaning

A podcast about motion for digital designers brought to you by Val Head and Cennydd Bowles, covering everything from the basic principles of animation through to advanced tools and techniques. 30 minutes. Monthly. Last episode 13 December 2016.

The Web Ahead

Conversations with world experts on changing technologies and future of the web. The Web Ahead is your shortcut to keeping up. Hosted by Jen Simmons. 60-100 minutes. Monthly. Last episode 30 June 2016.

Unfinished Business

UK designer Andy Clarke and guests have plenty to talk about, mostly on and around web design, creative work and modern life. 60-90 minutes. Monthly. Last episode 28 June 2016. (STOP PRESS: A new episode was issued on 20 March 2018. Looks like it’s back in action.)

Dollars to Donuts

A podcast where Steve Portigal talks with the people who lead user research in their organizations. 50-75 minutes. Irregular. Last episode 10 May 2016.

Any Other Good Ones Missing?

As we noted, there are probably many other good podcasts out there for web designers and developers. If we’ve missed your favorite, let us know about it in the comments, or in the original threads on Twitter or Facebook.

(vf, ra, il)

[thenthdimension]

My Top Ten Comics of the Year List because the one from Vice Sucked

So vice has released a list of its top ten comics of the year that was only eight entries long because apparently comics were so bad this year that eight was as many as they could manage. This really frustrated me, mainly because their problem was with the quality of comics (which I thought was great) and not the behaviour of individuals and organisations within the industry (a lot of which was very bad). I am not going to link to the article because if you want to find it you can but I am not going to help you. I am however going to give my top ten list which I realise a lot of other people have done in reaction to the article but I’m just too annoyed to do nothing.

Some caveats before I start, firstly I am just someone who likes comics and I have not read 90% of the stuff that has come out because I am not a) rich or b) someone who receives comics to review. Secondly I am a white/cis/het man and my comics reading is not as diverse as I would like but I do want to work on that this year. Thirdly some of these will be graphic novels, some individual issues and some on-goings. Finally this is in no particular order, feel free to skip past entries you have not interest in and please check to the end of the list to see if something catches your interest. If one person reads one comic because I did this that is a huge win.

Aliens Dead Orbit by James Stokoe

James Stokoe is one of the best cartoonists working in comics today. Most of the books he works on are top to bottom his work, writing, pencils, inks, colouring, lettering the whole bag and that is the case here. The details in his panels is incredible as you can see here but only when it needs to be. When he needs the readers eye to move quickly across a page to show speed or to make show a lot happening in a short space of time the detail drops without losing any of the skill. Also I just love his colouring the warm lighting contrasting with the cold metal of the ship and dark blacks of space and the aliens themselves. This is not a complicated or deep story that going to tell anything new about this universe its just excellently told and looks fab.

Kaijumax: Season 3 by Zander Cannon with colour assists by Jason Fischer

This is a prison comic where the prisoners are giant monsters, I really don��t know what else you want me to say about this. At its best it can be disturbing, funny, exciting and you will never know how much you could care about a giant satanic Goat. That goat is the Creature from Devils Creek and his is the best story line this season, I was honestly upset and some of the things he had to go through. I obviously recommend going back and reading the previous two seasons but this is the best Kaijumax has been and I cannot wait for season 4.

Doom Patrol Written by Gerard Way, Pencils by Nick Derington, Inks by Tom Fowler, Colours by Tamara Bonvillian and Letters by Todd Klien

The lead singer of My Chemical Romance writes one of my favourite comics. That’s a weird thing to say but then comics are weird and this comic if full bore weird. Coming from DC’s Young Animal line which is basically Way’s baby this is technically a book about a team of superheros but really its well developed characters dealing with whatever mad thing happens that month. But as much as I enjoy the madness and Ways writing Nick Derington is the best thing about this book. There was an issue that had guest art by Mike Allred, who I love, and all I wanted was for Derington to come back. Plus that madcap writing means he gets to draw some incredible looking stuff. Also one of the main characters has sex with their anthropomorphised cat.

The Wicked + The Divine Written by Kieron Gillen, Art by Jamie McKelvie, Colours by Matthew Wilson and Letters by Clayton Cowles

It was never going to be ok. That’s basically the motto of this book and this year has shown you how true that is. Every 90 years the cycle repeats normal people become gods and will not live past 2 years, this time they also became pop stars. Wic Div has been going for a couple of years now and it just keeps getting better, the characters are so real and who they are is brilliantly reflected in the art. It will break your heart but it will also have dying to read the next issue. Plus they have started doing specials which show glimpses of the past pantheons. Its currently on issue 34 so its something of a commitment but it rewards that commitments and the collections come out with a decent regularity. Oh if you are a tumblr person do not look at the Wic Div tag unless you want SPOILERS.

Copra #31 by Michel Fiffe

Fiffe is another top to bottom cartoonist and he also self publishes Copra, so this is proper indie comics. Copra is a Suicide Squad fan comic that’s almost consistently better than the actual Suicide Squad comic. A team of mercenaries and criminals do the jobs no one can admit to and treated as expendable by those who put them in harms way. Its art and action comics all at once. This issue focuses on Castillo who as you may be able to tell is somewhat like the Punisher and its just a great example of what makes Copra great. I could see Fiffes art not being for everybody but its 100% for me.

Southern Cross written by Becky Cloonan, Art by Andy Belanger, Colours by Lee Loughride and Letters by Serge LaPointe

Southern Cross is like an Aliens movie directed by John Carpenter filtered through H.P. Lovecreaft. Put on some synth-wave, prog rock or cosmic metal and enjoy a horror comic that’s also a huge amount of fun. The first arc was Alex Braith booking passage aboard the Southern Cross to find out what happened to her sister. This years second arc takes us to the rigs on Titan where the mystery of whats going on deepens and we find out more about the life in this universe. Can’t recommend it highly enough, plus some of the space suits have Jason masks, which makes me very happy.

The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl # 26 The Zine Issue by Ryan North, Erica Henderson, Rico Renzi and many, many more

I cannot list all the creators please go look them up. Squirrel Girl (she has the powers of both Squirrel and Girl) is a comic that is always a huge amount of fun and this issue is the zine that Squirrel Girl has put together with her friends to raise money for all the public buildings superheroes destroy. It features a feel good inspiration comic written by a nihilistic brain in a jar, Cat Loki, a quite touching story about Wolverine and a sentinel and a Galactus comic written and drawn by Jim Davis the creator of Garfield. You can read this all by itself and still enjoy it so its a great place to find out if Squirrel Girl is for you which it probably is because Squirrel Girl rules. Eat nuts, kick butts. 

Mister Miracle #4 Written by Tom King, Art by Mitch Gerads and letters by Clayton Cowles

Mister Miracle is one of the New Gods. Mister Miracle can escape any trap. Mister Miracle is depressed and recently tried to kill himself. This twelve issue mini series is going to show up on a lot of best of lists this year and that’s totally justified. But of the five issues released so far I believe this, The Trial of Mister Miracle, is the best. Every great about this series is crystallised here, the 9 panel grids, the quite unflinching look at depression, the art that expertly mixes the fantastic and the mundane and the incredibly sharp writing. I haven’t seen a better example of a character who is entirely correct but also completely wrong.

Savage Town written by Declan Shalvey, Art by Philip Barrett, Colours by Jordie Bellaire and Letters by Clayton Cowles

Cartoonists get a lot of props for being able to handle every aspect of creating a comic book and there are some great examples on this list. This comic I believe is the best example of how a great team on a book can be just as effective as a great cartoonist. Its Limerick near the turn of 2000, Jimmy Savage is the leader of a small gang and trouble is heading his way. I love that one of the best crime comics this year is about an Irish city and comes from a majority Irish team. Its also great to see a comics writer writing Irish accented dialogue that doesn’t read like its out of Darby O’Gil and the Little people. And its a great story too, I really hope there is some kind of follow up as I’d really love to come back to this town and these characters again.

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi

This year I decided to start reading more manga (Japanese comics) and I decided to start with this which was a bit of an odd choice but one I do not regret. This true story can be difficult to read because it is true. Nagata was this lonely, this isolated, this depressed and the really had this struggle with their sexuality. The depression they felt was crippling and while a lot of things I could relate to, especially berating yourself which I used to do a lot, I really had no idea. I have always considered myself as decent person who understood that depression was something that could paralyse a person but until I read this I don’t think I truly considered what that meant. The sense of isolation and loneliness is so strong I honestly don’t know how they got through it. And then they recounted it with such a great sense of humour and didn’t shy away at all. I feel like I am not explaining this well, I don’t read lot of things like this and maybe I don’t have quite the right vocabulary. Just know that this is the most affecting piece of media I came across this year. If I know you IRL please ask to borrow it because I would love to hear what other people think of it.

And that’s it, those are the ten best comics I read this year. You can find all of these on comixology, amazon and good comic book stores. If there is something you’d be interesting in reading and you don’t know how to get a hold of it ask me and I’ll see if I can help you find it. Comics a great and anyone who kind find ten great ones in a year is not looking hard enough or is a pretentious prick. I know for a fact there is stacks of great stuff I didn’t get to read this year. Its all out there, you just have to look.

[tessatechaitea]

Dark Nights: Metal #3

I'm trying to be more positive so I'd like to praise John Romita Jr. for how well he draws monster teeth. If he drew them, that is!

How come heroes always say shit like this? Have they never been around their friends when their friends are drunk? "Good" goes out the window pretty fucking easily.

The Flash races out of a giant ankh to rescue Superman from the Bat-inspired evil Justice League. He takes him to The Oblivion Bar where Detective Chimp reminds everybody that the DC Universe heartily sucked for a long while because Dan DiDio believed it wasn't a place for fun and whimsy. Of course, that's all being taken care of now with this Rebirth and Watchmen shit. Now all the idiots who thought Comics Shouldn't Be Fun Again are backpedaling and pretending it was the fault of everybody but the editors in charge. "It was the Watchmen! They changed it all for the worse!" "It was the fans! This is what they said they wanted!" "It wasn't Jim Lee, Geoff Johns, or Dan DiDio at all! Stop looking at us! I mean them!" Oh! Tomorrow is Friday the 13th! I have to remember to play the Friday the 13th video game tomorrow because they have to do something special, right? Like maybe log the IP of everybody who plays and send Jason around to murder us all? How fun would that be! Seriously! Please somebody kill me. This country has gotten so terrible.

Racist! Or anti-golem? Whatever it is, it's probably gross, right? Am I doing youth correctly?

Other people hiding out in the Oblivion Bar are Steel, Mister Terrific, the Justice League, Green Arrow, Damian Wayne, and Plastic Man stuck in the form of a giant egg. But even as an egg, he's able to vibrate out a message. Wonder Woman translates it as "Oh. OH! OoOoOoHhHhHh! OH ZEUS YES!" Mister Terrific translates it as coordinates to deep space, beneath Atlantis, and the center of the multiverse. What kind of chart can graph those coordinates? An XYZZZZZZZZZZZ chart? I buy that Mister Terrific can figure them out but how the fuck did Plastic Man do the math on them? He's just a petty, clumsy crook turned accidental superhero! I don't remember him being a maths genius! Plastic Egg also gives some negative coordinates and Mister Terrific is all, "These don't make sense! I may be a genius but I don't understand how coordinates work!" Luckily Superman is there to be all, "Nobody pay attention to this whole thing about negative numbers not being valid coordinates! He probably means the Dark Multiverse!" And everybody is all, "Whew! Good save, Superman! That certainly was a job for you!" Deathstork arrives to help out because he has a Promethium sword. It's not Nth metal but it'll do the trick when it comes to hurting the Batjerks. Now everybody can split up and go explore all the coordinates Plastic Egg vibrated into Mister Terrific's ear. Ear? Yeah, it was probably his ear. Steel, Flash, and Superman team up to rescue Batman from the Dark Multiverse. Mister Terrific, Green Lantern, and Plastic Egg team up to head into deep space. Doctor Fate, Green Arrow, and Wonder Woman head to the Rock of Eternity. And Aquaman and Deathstork head to the place beneath Atlantis. Most of the teams have an easy job, following the coordinates. But Superman's team has to rely on Superman making up a theory as to how they can get to the Dark Multiverse. Luckily, it's a comic book so science that is pure speculation is usually good enough to get the job done. Superman makes it to the Dark Multiverse but finds that it's a trap! Surprise! Batman was trying to warn Superman not to save him but Superman was too dumb to figure out Batman's genius code. So typical of Superman. He never does the smart thing. He should have listened to Nightwing. Everybody should listen to Nightwing! He's the only one that ever knows what's going on. Not only is it a trap but it's part of Barbatos's plan. He needs Superman's body to be the battery for his gadget to turn Earth-Main-Earth into a hell dimension. It's too bad that all of the ancient texts Hawkman and Hawkwoman read didn't say something about Superman being the key to the rise of Barbatos. All the clues pointed to Batman! So once again, Hawkman fucked up. What an idiot. Dark Nights: Metal #3 Rating: Not too bad. I mean, Mister Terrific, the world's third smartest man, made a stupid mistake. But that's to be expected when Not the World's Third Smartest Man is writing the comic book. It's hard to write a genius when you have to know things. Which sucks because writers are writers so they don't have to know stuff! You get to just make shit up! I mean, sure, you can do research. But what if you don't know you need to do research when you're writing about something like, say, coordinates?! Obviously all coordinates must be positive, right? How can negative coordinates exist in the world?! That doesn't make any sense! Which is why latitude and longitude are totally fake news. Those places in negative latitudes and longitudes either don't exist or are composed of pure evil. Mainly I'm excited for the Aquaman/Deathstork team-up. I hope that becomes a forty-five issue maxi-series.