#the last one took me 22 hours but this one took me about 17

[laylaylamode]

🎤🎶 Karaoke Night! 🎶🎤 What better way to unwind than to belt out your feelings with some friends?

Another big art piece that I've been wanting to do for a long time! I slowly chipped away at this over some weeks and did a proper background for once. Surprisingly it was harder to do the lighting than the background, but I'm pretty happy with the soft glow I managed to do. That and the little props on the table. Enjoy! 💕

Angela Crust and Eiffel belong to @princesscallyie !

Olevia Masters belongs to @thereallordgrape !

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2023

Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!

COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

And this years playlist can be found here.

There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!

We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”

Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Alternatives List:

Betrayal

Aftermath of Failure

Brass Knuckles

Decoy

Body Modification

Playing Cards

Examination

Hunting

Drugging

Shaking

Panic

Broken

Miscommunication

Lab Rat

Reluctant Whumper

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.

The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)

#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?

You can create something based on:

The overall theme/lyric of the day

Prompt 1, 2 or 3

One or several of the alternative prompts

A combination of the above

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.

Q. Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?

No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?

Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want. 

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box.

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

[ugotcooneycrossed]

you belong with me (i belong with you)

alessia russo x reader

w/c: ~700

moments of lessi and her girl (you) through the years

a/n: ive been lurking in the woso tags and thought id get back into writing😗 also, please bare with me- i have not written in a long time 😭 and im used to writing chapter fics, not one shots, but i hope i did this justice!

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

17.

Alessia is 17 when she realises she’s in love.

She can tell because no one’s ever made her feel the way that you do.

Ella’s the first to know- because she’s Ella.

“Tooney you don’t understand-like I’m actually in love.”

A voice cuts in and Alessia is momentarily taken away from her phone- not hearing Tooney’s reply.

“Oooh with who?”

You grin at her cheekily, cheeks still flushed from practice- Alessia admires the way your eyes sparkle softly- she takes the time, eyes tracing every inch of your face.

“Less?”

You look even cuter now- eyes scrunched, looking at her like she just grew another head.

“Uh- no one! Don’t worry about it!”

“Okay weirdo… wanna go get ice cream with me?”

You grip her arms suddenly, squeezing softly, eyes pleading.

“Please Lessi?”

All Alessia can manage is a nod, before you shoot off again- linking your arms together and Alessia thinks she can die right now.

“So what flavour were you thinking, I’m think-“

“I think I’m in love with you!”

“Oh- I don’t think I’ve tried that before.”

Alessia punches you in the arm and you pout at her rubbing your arm softly.

“Less, I’ve been waiting for you to say that for years now."

-

18.

“GO LESSI!”

Alessia looks to the side where you sit, decked out in all the UNC gear you’ve stolen from her, every time you visit.

“THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!”

Her teammates send her teasing smiles, and make fun of her lovesick face but all she can focus on is the way, you almost fall off the bench you decided to stand on to get a better view.

“IM OKAY!”

-

19.

It’s the last night of the U-20s world cup.

You’re asleep in Lessi’s arms, and she watches your chest rise and fall softly.

It’s a soft and tender moment that is interrupted by fake gagging.

“You don’t have to stare that hard Less, I’m sure she’s not going to disappear.”

“Shut it Tooney.”

“Seriously Less, it’s sickening to watch- oh I love you- no I love you more- no I love you more- no-“

Alessia is fairly certain she’s never thrown a pillow so hard before.

“Whatever Tooney, I swear I’m going to marry her one day and it’s just going to be worse for you.”

Tooney lets out a loud groan, that earns her another pillow to the face. “Shhhh, you’ll wake her.”

-

20.

It’s Alessia’s 20th birthday. 

There’s a warmth in your chest as you look at your Less, though it might just be the shots you took with her earlier.

She’s stunning- she always is.

It’s much later in the night when you get a moment alone- you brush her hair that sticks to her forehead from sweat back, no doubt from when Tooney dragged her onto the dance floor hours ago.

She smiles a little dopey at you, her natural clumsiness combined with the alcohol have her falling into you every three seconds.

“I loooovee you! I love you sooo much!”

You smile at her as you catch her once again.

“I love you too Lessi.”

-

21.

It’s late in the night.

You sit with Alessia cuddled protectively into your side- a movie plays in the background, long forgotten as you stare at each other.

“Marry me?”

“Okay.”

With that you go back to the movie- fingers intertwined.

-

22.

It’s a quiet wedding- you both didn’t want anything too crazy. 

It’s hours after the ceremony has ended, after saying farewell to family and friends, loading a very drunk Ella off on Mary, do you finally get a moment alone with your wife.

“I’m so grateful you’re mine. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

-

23.

“You still like me right?”

Alessia pouts at you- bundle under an endless amount of blankets, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold she’s still fighting, she coughs again, this time right in your face, and you fight the urge to say no.

“Of course, I do pretty girl- in sickness and health, right?”

-

24.

“Happy anniversary baby! I’ve loved you since I was 15- we’ve been married for only two years, and have known each other for 10, but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life- it feels like I’ve loved you for just as long too. So, I can safely say; you belong with me, and I belong with you.”

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of drug use

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 11

Matt Sturniolo created his own world; only in his own environment did he feel secure, comfortable, and protected. A genuine camaraderie was created at Graceland. We lived as one big family, eating, talking, arguing, joking, playing, and traveling together.

Although I became friends with the guys in Matt’s retinue, he never let me, or anyone else, forget that I was his girl. I was never to get too close or become too familiar with any of the regulars.

One evening, after we came home from a movie, we said good night to everyone and went upstairs. Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later to get something to eat, I found Jerry Schilling, who’d just started working for Matt, making himself a snack. We started talking. A few minutes later, Matt appeared.

“What the hell are you two doing down here?” he shouted at us.

Intimidated, Jerry said, “Well, Matt, we were just talking. I was asking her how she felt, because she didn’t feel well this afternoon.”

“I came down to get something to eat,” I explained.

“y/nn, you don’t need to be roaming around here late at night,” he said, angrily ordering me upstairs.

Behind me, I could hear him lashing out at Jerry. “If you want to keep this job, son, you mind your own business. If there’s anyone who’s going to ask her how she feels, it’ll be me. You better mind your own goddamn business.”

I liked Jerry. He was warm, sincere, and very personable; just a couple of years older than I, he was one of the few people who I could relate to. But from that time on, it was a dodging match every time we’d run into each other. Now Jerry and I laugh about the “good old days” when we reminisce.

Most of the boys who worked for Matt had been around from the beginning and they knew all about him—his sense of humor, his sensitivity, and his temper. He stripped himself bare in front of them, and they accepted him for what he was.

Yet working for Matt was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, and the boys were at his beck and call constantly. They played when he played and slept when he slept. It took a certain kind of personality to put up with his demands, whether they made sense or not.

“Come on, y/nn, let’s go to Los Angeles. I’ll show you where I film movies.,” he said one afternoon when we’d only been up for a few hours. He called downstairs and told Alan to alert everyone that he wanted to leave within the hour.

Alan said, “Okay, Boss. I think Richard and Gene are still sleeping. I’ll give ’em a call and tell ’em to come right over.”

“Their lazy asses are still sleeping?” Matt asked. “I’ve been up for two goddamn hours. They should have been over here by now. Alan, from now on, when I call down for my breakfast, call the boys and tell them I’m up and to be ready for anything, and that may include me not even coming downstairs. I just want them here.”

Demanding? Yes, but Matt could be just as generous. By today’s standards the boys’ salaries were not high—the average paycheck was $250 a week—but if the boys ever felt the pinch by the end of the month, they would go to Matt. They’d ask him if he could help them out with a down payment on a house or the first and last months’ payments on an apartment. Matt always came through for them, lending them the one thousand or five thousand or ten thousand dollars they asked for. He was rarely if ever paid back.

There also was no limit to the expensive gifts he gave them—television consoles for Christmas, bonus checks, Cadillac convertibles, Mercedes-Benzes. If he heard someone was sad or depressed, he loved to surprise them with a gift, usually a brand-new car. When he gave to one, he would usually end up giving to all.

James didn’t have much respect for the guys. He said Matt just gave and gave and gave, and they took and took and took. He’d say, “Son, we have to save.” Matt would answer, “It’s only money, Dad. I just have to go out and make more.”

James resented the regulars acting as if Graceland was their personal club. They’d go into the kitchen at any hour and order anything they wanted. Naturally, everyone ordered something different. The cooks worked night and day keeping them happy. James felt, “To hell with the boys. Their main concern should be Matt.”

What was really outrageous was that the regulars were ordering sirloin steaks or prime ribs while Matt usually ate hamburgers or peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

I wasn’t too popular around Graceland when I started reorganizing the kitchen. I set down a policy of having one menu per meal, and anyone who didn’t like what was on it could go to a local restaurant. This new edict resulted in much grumbling from the guys, but the cooks were relieved, and James sanctioned my decision, announcing, “It’s about time someone organized the meals. It was beginning to look like we were feeding half of Boston.”

Matt was the boss, the provider, and the power. Both the boys and I had to protect him from people who annoyed or irritated him and were no longer in his favor. Before coming down for the evening, he’d have me call downstairs to check who was there. I’d run down the guests, aware that certain names would strike him wrong.

“Shit,” he’d say, his mood destroyed. “What’s he want? Bring me some more bad news?” He’d stay up in his room rather than spend an evening with someone he didn’t like. There was one particular regular who had incurred his disfavor, and Matt told everyone he didn’t want him around. “Don’t let him through those goddamn gates!” Matt ordered. “All I have to do is look at his face and I get depressed.” Matt barred him from Graceland for a number of years, saying, “If he changes his morbid attitude, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His perceptions were correct, as these “friends” eventually betrayed him.

Matt and James kept some of their relatives at a distance because, as Matt explained to me, they’d shunned him when he was growing up, ridiculing him as a sissy, a mama’s boy. Mary Lou stood up for Matt and told his tormentors to go their own way. Angrily, she had said, “Don’t bother us with these accusations.”

Then fame and fortune hit, and suddenly all the kinfolk came around, begging for jobs or crying that they needed help. Sometimes Matt got upset, charging, “The only time they visit is with their hand out. It’d be nice if they’d come around just to see how I was doing. But hell no, it’s always, ‘Ah, Matt, I could use a little extra cash. Could you help me out?’ Hell, I’ll bet when I’m dead and gone, they’ll still be taking advantage.” But Matt ended up slipping each of them a hundred dollars or more every time they came around. If it had been up to James, he would have gotten rid of every one of them. But Matt kept saying, “No, Dad, they don’t have any place to go. They couldn’t work anywhere. Keep them here.”

From the beginning of his success, Matt put many family members on salary, and all had titles. James was his business manager; Patsy, his personal secretary; uncles Vester Sturniolo and Johnny and Travis Smith, and cousin Harold Lloyd, gate guards; cousins Billy, Bobby, and Gene, personal aides; and then there was Tracy Smith, who seemed to go from brother to brother for support. Matt took care of everyone.

I remember one night at Graceland when Matt came back to the kitchen and saw Tracy pacing the floor. “Hey, Tracy,” he said, “How ya doing, man?” Tracy, his hands in his pockets, could hardly look Matt in the eye. “I don’t know, Matt,” he sighed. “What do ya mean, you don’t know? Everyone knows how they’re doin’, man.”

Tracy, shifting back and forth, mumbled, “I got my nerves in the dirt, Matt.” Matt staggered back, laughing. “Nerves in the dirt! Hell, I never heard it expressed like that before. You need some money, Tracy?”

Again, Tracy just shifted back and forth, as Matt called Nate over and told him to give Tracy a bill. A big smile covered Tracy’s lined face as he happily took his hundred dollars and walked out the door.

Matt knew that having his nerves in the dirt was Tracy’s way of saying he was down and out—and worried sick about it. He never forgot that phrase. “Poor ol’ Matt,” he’d say. “I’ll never forget the look on his face that night, poor ol’ guy.”

That was Matt—always caring, always sensitive to everyone’s needs, even while presenting a macho image to his fans and friends.

Anything I could think of doing for him, I did. I made sure Graceland was always warm and inviting, with the lights turned low, as he preferred them, the temperature in his bedroom set to his exact desire (freezing), and the kitchen filled with the aroma of his favorite meals.

Every night before dinner was served, I came downstairs first, checked with the maids to see that his food was just the way he liked it—his mashed potatoes creamily whipped, plenty of cornbread, and his meat burnt to perfection. I always had candles on the dining room table to create a romantic atmosphere despite the fact that we always ate with several of the regulars.

I loved babying Matt. He had a little-boy quality that could bring out the mother instinct in any woman, a beguiling way of seeming utterly dependent. It was this aspect of his charm that made me want to hold him, shower him with affection, protect him, fight for him, and yes, even die for him. I went to extremes in taking care of him, from cutting his steak at dinner to making sure his water glass was always filled. I enjoyed pampering and spoiling him and found myself jealous of others vying for his attention and approval.

But I didn’t always receive his approval. If something went wrong with his dinner, Matt blew up. “Why isn’t this steak done? Why didn’t you make sure the maids cooked it right? If you’d have done your job, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Obviously something else was wrong, and I didn’t recognize it at the time. Because of the continuous pressures and problems in Matt’s life, all magnified by taking prescribed drugs, little things would set him off. I took responsibility for everything in his life and always took it all too personally.

I wanted to be with Matt as much as I could, but while going to the movies or the fairgrounds every night might have been a wonderful way for him to relax, it posed an enormous problem for me. Often I wouldn’t get home until 5 or 6 a.m., and I’d have to be at school two hours later. Sometimes I never went to sleep. When I did, I could barely make it out of bed. I would lie there trying to drum up the strength to face the day, Matt making it even harder by suggesting that I sleep in and cut classes. It would have been so easy to go along with his suggestion, but hanging over me was the agreement I’d made with my parents. They trusted me and even though I was letting them down, I still had to keep up the facade.

Day after day I drove to school, attended classes till noon, then returned to Graceland to slip back into bed and cuddle next to Matt, who was still sound asleep. When he awoke at 3 or 4 p.m., I might never have left his side for all he knew. I was there to give him his usual order of orange juice, a Spanish omelet, home-fried potatoes, a mere two pounds of bacon, and—first and foremost—his black coffee.

Everyone who knew Matt was aware that it took him at least two to three hours to wake up fully. Asking him to make a decision, even a simple one such as what movie he wanted to see that night, was ill-advised. He was just too groggy and irritable from the sleeping pills, which were causing him to sleep as many as fourteen hours a day. It seemed only natural for him to take some Dexedrine to wake up.

I was always concerned about his intake of sleeping pills. His horror of insomnia, compounded with a family history of compulsive worrying, caused him to down three or four Placidyls, Seconals, Quaaludes, or Tuinals almost every night—and often it was a combination of all four. When I expressed my concern, he just picked up the medical dictionary, always near at hand on his night table.

“In here is the explanation for every type of pill on the market, their ingredients, side effects, cures, everything about them,” he assured me. “There isn’t anything I can’t find out.”

It was true. He was always reading up on pills, always checking to see what was on the market, and which ones had received FDA approval. He referred to them by their medical names and knew all their ingredients. Like everyone else around him, I was impressed with his knowledge and certain that he was an expert. One would think he had a degree in pharmacology. He always assured me that he didn’t need pills, that he could never become dependent on them. This difference in opinion resulted in many serious confrontations; I always compromised my integrity and ended up taking his viewpoint.

I began taking sleeping pills and diet pills too. Two Placidyls for him and one for me. A Dexedrine for him and one for me. Eventually Matt’s consumption of pills seemed as normal to me as watching him eat a pound of bacon with his Spanish omelet. I routinely took “helpers” in order to get to sleep after wild rides at the fairgrounds or early-morning jam sessions. And I routinely took more “helpers” when I woke up in order to maintain the fast pace and, more importantly, to study for my final exams.

During the last month before finals, I started popping more dexies than before. They seemed to give me the energy I needed to get through classes and homework. Every free moment was devoted to cramming a whole semester’s work into a few weeks. But my concentration was scattered; the strain of life at Graceland had finally caught up with me.

I had already been warned by Sister Adrian that in order for me to graduate, I had to pass all my subjects. During a talk in her office, I wanted desperately to confide in her and explained how hard it was to maintain my grade level with the late hours I kept: But how could I tell that to a nun?

I had no real goals after graduation, but I did sometimes dream of becoming a dancer or possibly enrolling in an art academy. Now I realize that I was deeply influenced by Matt’s casual attitude toward continued schooling. He figured I didn’t need it and I agreed. Just being with him most of the time would provide an education—not to mention experience—that no school could give me. He wanted me to be his totally, free to go to him in an instant if he needed me.

That sounded great to me. I’d never planned on a future without Matt. Therefore, while my classmates were deciding which colleges to apply to, I was deciding which gun to wear with what sequined dress. I was tempted to say to Sister Adrian, “Oh, by the way, Sister, does gunmetal gray go with royal blue sequins?” With that attitude it was no surprise that I was still woefully unprepared for my most hated subject, algebra, the week before finals.

On the day of the test, I sat in the crowded classroom, hyper from downing a dexy, trying to work out the problems. Despite my effort, I knew there was no way I was going to pass. I started to panic. I had to graduate. I had an obligation to Matt and to my parents, who I knew would yank me out of Graceland the minute I failed this test. I glanced at the girl next to me—and at her completed test paper. It’s my last resort, I thought. I’m going for it. I was not willing to face the consequences of being sent home for failing this test.

Her name was Janet and she was a straight A student. I tapped her on the shoulder and flashed my brightest smile, whispering, “Are you a Matt fan?” Taken aback by my question, Janet nodded yes. “How would you like to come to one of his parties?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I’d love to.”

“Well, I know a way that it can be arranged.”

I eyed her test paper and explained. Janet instantly grasped my dilemma and, without a word, slid her paper to the edge of her desk. Now I had a full view of her answers. I spent the rest of the hour furiously copying them down and I not only passed, but I got an A on that test.

I hadn’t expected Matt to make much of my graduation. His attitude was, “A diploma’s not that important; life’s experiences are.” But to my surprise, he really looked forward to it and arranged to have a big party for our friends after the ceremony. There he presented a beautiful red Corvair, my first car.

On the big night he was like a proud parent. Nervous about what he should wear to the ceremony, he finally settled on a dark blue suit, and I put on my navy blue gown. I couldn’t possibly keep the cap on over that mass of teased hair.

Matt had a limo waiting for us out front. But there was one problem: I did not want him to come to the actual ceremony. It would attract a lot of attention, and all eyes would be focused on him instead of the graduating seniors.

Finally I worked up enough courage to ask him to wait outside, and explained why. Smiling his funny little grin, the one that came to his lips when he was hurt or upset, he agreed without hesitation. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. “I won’t come in. I’ll just be outside in the car waiting for you. That way I’ll kinda be there.”

And that was what he did. I accepted my diploma with mixed emotions. I would have loved for him to have been watching, but only I knew what a physical, emotional, and mental strain it had been to get that piece of paper. To me, it represented freedom, freedom to stay out until dawn if I wanted and sleep all day if I wanted. It represented freedom from my school uniform and from the teasing the entourage subjected me to every time they caught me in it trying to sneak past them at Graceland. I was a big girl playing in the big leagues.

As soon as I could get away, I ran outside. In front of the church, Matt and the boys were standing by the long black limo, looking like the Chicago Mafia in their dark glasses and suits, each concealing a.38. Around them a group of nuns were clamoring for Matt’s autograph.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - so cute🎀

[satureja13]

The TukTuk with Jack and Kiyoshi on board was still flying through the rain - following the train Sai, Jeb and Vlad rode in. It's been hours already - and Jack was just marveling again over how cool Demon/Diety Kiyoshi was. And how happy he is that they sorted it out somehow, and that they are able to be friends/mates after all that had happened between them - when lightning struck the TukTuk! It crashed in a weird kind of swamp - and Jack felt a searing pain in his chest. The TukTuk was slowly sinking...

Luckily not Jack and Kiyoshi. Kiyoshi dragged Jack over on solid ground. Jack: "Are you ok? Where are we?" Kiyoshi: "Uh - Jack? I... I'm fine..." The strike from the lightning ignited a strange super awareness in Kiyoshi. He hadn't felt so woke since before he left the Temple - and Jack - and went to Kojin's realm, to become one with the tree. Decades ago.

They were soaked wet. Jack: "What now? We lost the TukTuk..." Kiyoshi was just about to try to get the TukTuk out of that swamp in the cool Yoda manner, to impress Jack (where Yoda lifted the X-Wing out of the swamp at Dagobah)...

...when they heard Saiwa yell. Oh, the others are here! So they hadn't been far from their final destination as it seems. And there is also Ms Coombes! (She'd been the Boys' teacher at Belgraves Institute. And Choongang Highschool.) Apparently the swamp was just sitting next to a little village ^^'

Sai: "Omg Jack! I'm so sorry I forgot you!" Jack: "Awww, don't worry. My good mate Kiyoshi and I had an amazing flight!" Luckily it had stopped to rain.

Jack took a look around: "Wow! Where are we?" Saiwa: "Verdantis. It even lies beyond the Otherworld. No one will get a grip on us here." This is the place where Ms Coombes, Francine (Jeb's grandmother) and Dtui (Kiyoshi's mentor) went to school back in their days! And where Jeb found his horse, Valerian. (TMI: and we also had a short gameplay 'story' here with adult Vlad and a few others. A little lot tour is -> here)

They went over to the 'Screaming Mandrake'.

Ms Coombes: "First of all: Ji Ho is here. We brought him to the Hospital Wing and put him to sleep. All his memories and feelings hit him at once. So he needs some time to process and to adjust. We also needed to silence your bond, to not overload him further. I know this must be hard for you, Vlad. Endure it for Ji Ho, won't you."

Vlad was near to tears again, but he drew in a shaky breath and said : "I will." He would endure everything for Ji Ho.

Ms Coombes: "You might know that this place here is our magical school and grounds. Me and some other professors are going to teach you how to protect and defend yourselves against the Siren's Songs and other spells. You also have a lot of other subjects to keep up with, since you never finished highschool... It will take your professors a lot of their power to reside here. It's already hard enough to stay in the Otherworld for longer - and this realm is much further beyond the Veil. So don't pester them, be grateful and study hard. Understood?" Saiwa: "Understood." Ms Coombes: "It should not be that draining for you, though. You already lived in the Otherworld for so many months now. And you have Vlad and Kiyoshi with you - hopefully Ji Ho will assist them soon to keep you here."

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

Outtakes We were lucky with the lightnings again! So cool 🌩

Sai when it finally stopped to rain 🌦

[legendaryblueoranges]

Confrontation

This took so long... Both 2 pages of drawing and nearly full color... But it's finished and I'm so happy that it turned out this way.

I hope you enjoyed, only 3 comics left... Glad to be fully back.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 (THE END)

Transcript:

A Few Hours Before Purgatory...

Tuburucho: We need to talk.

Tuburucho: Please just follow me quickly.

Tuburucho: Look, I don't have a lot of time so let me talk and- and save your questions till the end. First off, the FEDs communication is down so they can't hear me. Second, that train- where it's taking you is an island controlled by an enemy that even the FEDs don't know.

Tuburucho: Third, your eggs are okay, as of now, but this unknown enemy is looking for them. The Federation doesn't know about this enemy yet, nor your eggs. When they find out in a few days I will be part of the rescue.

Tuburucho: Fourth, and final, there is a traitor going with you. He might cause trouble while your- in whatever h*ll your stepping into.

Tuburucho: Before you ask, it's Quackity.

Fit: It's nice to hear all this but... how do you know all this if even the FEDs don't?

Tuburucho: I- I had a few hours with an... an informant... who I... 'asked' about many things...

Philza: And this informant is what...? From the enemy or-?

Tuburucho: ... It was Quackity.

Fit: Was?

Tuburucho: He hurt Fred so I got rid of him.

Philza + Fit + Pac: You killed him.

Pac: So El Quackity is the traitor then?

Tuburucho: Yes... Quackity deserved it. He hurt Fred. He kidnapped Fred. HE DESERVED IT.

Pac: What is it with the kidnapping on this server... Me, Cellbit, Mike... T- Tubbo... and now BAGI.

Pac: BAGI- BAGI Wasn't she... with Fred last? You DIDN'T-

Pac: You were the one who-

Pac: WHO-

Tuburucho: Freedom?

Philza: Tubbo can you hear me? Move or make a noise if you can?

Fit: We need to see the wound, we're going to have to take the mask off.

Philza: I can't- ...

Pac: He's not dead yet, we can still help him.

Pac: I may hate him for messing with Bagi but, it's still Tubbo. We have to help him.

Pac: Don't we have like healing pots, or gapples, or anything?

[Message]

Train will arrive in 6 minutes.

You will be teleported to the station immediately. Teleport in- 6

[]

Philza: Pac, we don't have time. We just have to hope that the FEDs find him.

Pac: There has to be something! What about the apples? Can they not help?

Philza: They only alter the mental state... They don't heal.

Philza: But I'll leave him the apples...

Fit: We're out of time.

Philza: Goodbye, Tubbo.

Pac: I'm sorry Tubbo, I'll come back, I promise.

[reigningqueenofwords]

First

Pairing: Sam x Reader Word count: 1,196

Read on AO3

You didn’t have many friends. It wasn’t that you weren’t sociable. You were just shy, anxious, and kept to yourself. It was far safer than putting yourself out there! That also left you with the constant worry that your few friends simply pitied you. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked as he walked into the living room to tell you that dinner was done, and he would go get the kids from their rooms. 

You sighed. “Why do I bother having a cell phone?” You asked, glancing at him. 

He raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m not sure if you want me to answer that or if that’s a rhetorical question.” He admitted. 

Getting up, you shrugged. “We have a house phone, so it’s not like I need it to call anyone. We have a stereo, and a computer, so I don’t need it for music. I read actual books, and Dean got me that Kindle for my birthday, so I don’t need it for reading.” You pointed out. “Anything I can do on here?” You held up your phone. “I can do with other things.” 

Blinking, he nodded. “I have a feeling this is a conversation that will be long, so how about after dinner I go to the store, get you a bottle of your favorite wine, a bag of Doritos, and some shredded cheese… and we can sit and talk. As long as you want. I’m off tomorrow.” He said gently, pulling you into his arms. “And then whatever’s frustrating you can be taken out on me after they’re in bed.” He winked, making you chuckle. 

You wrapped your arms around his waist. “I think I can agree to that. I’ll go start getting drinks for dinner.” You pecked his lips. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He let you go and patted your backside as he went up the stairs to get your 7 and 8 year olds. “Guys, food!” He called out as he reached the top. You chuckled as you could hear each kid come running out of their rooms. 

Even after 12 years together, it still felt fresh. You’d met Sam when you were 17, and literally ran into him in art class. He was the new kid and you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking with your palette. His shirt was very colorful for the rest of the day, but he didn’t seem to mind. You’d had a date two days later, and you’d been together since. The pair of you got engaged at 19, married at 20, and had your son at 21, and your daughter at 22. You’d never wanted anything else in life, although…you had been toying with the idea of having one more little one. You were a sucker for Sam Winchester and babies. 

Heading into the kitchen, you got each of you a drink and brought them to the table. 

After dinner, Sam took your daughter with him to the store while your son “helped” do dishes. Halfway through he’d start to play, making a bigger mess. But you didn’t mind, he had fun. 

Once both kids were in their rooms playing for the last couple hours before bedtime, Sam worked on making you your “naked nachos” as you sipped your wine, watching him. “So, what were you ranting about  earlier? About not needing a cell phone?” He asked, sprinkling the cheese over your Doritos. 

“I just don’t see the point of having one, babe.” You sighed. “Aside from you, Dean, your parents, and one friend? I hear from no one. And your parents and Dean are like once a week.” You added. “If I don’t text people first, I just don’t hear from them at all.” You shook your head, slightly swirling the wine in your glass. “The same people that are like ‘omg, I love you!’ or ‘always got your back’ or ‘love you and the kids!’ can’t ever be bothered to text me first. How can you say you care about someone, but never ever text them? I’ve tested that theory, too. I’ve texted, chatted with them a bit, and then just waited. Just kept seeing that it was longer and longer since they stopped replying to me.” 

Sam shook his head as he put the tray of ‘nachos’ in the oven. “Are you sure they’re actually your friend?” He asked, moving to sit with you while the cheese melted. “Because that doesn’t sound right. I get us all having lives, but to never be the one to just text to check in? Have they ever texted first?” 

Finishing the wine in your glass, you sighed. “Not that I can ever recall. Even last year when you were in that car accident.” You scoffed, moving to refill your glass. “Not once did she text me to check on you. But when she was having issues the year before? I was checking in with her. Wanting to see how she was doing, how she was healing.” Your voice was sad. “I love her, and her kids, but I think I’m really starting to see how one sided things are.” 

He hated this for you. You loved with all your heart, and no matter how many times you’d been hurt…you still tried. Getting up, he moved over to hold you to his chest. Your back was to his front as he held you, kissing the top of your head. “She doesn’t deserve you.” He said softly. “Maybe take a step back and only text about silly stuff. Shows you like, actors. Things like that.” He suggested, knowing you wouldn’t give up your friendship. That wasn’t you. 

You nodded. “I might.” You agreed. “It just sucks.” You huffed, making him chuckle lightly. 

When the timer went off, he went to get your snack out of the oven. “I’ll get this on a plate, go pick out a movie.” He kissed your cheek, hoping that getting this off your chest helped. He’d get the kids ready for bed once you were comfy in the living room.

Ater the movie, your wine and nachos were gone, and you were in a much better mood. Shifting so you were sitting sideways on Sam’s lap, you trailed your fingers over his jaw. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better now.” He said, rubbing your thigh. “I hate when you’re upset.” 

“I know.” You smiled. “Thank you for always helping me through what I’m feeling.” You truly were grateful for him. “There’s one more thing I think I need your help with, though.” 

Sam beamed. “Anything.” He promised. 

“I want to have another baby.” You breathed, nervous. That would be a bit of a gap between your oldest and this baby if he agreed. 

“Stand up.” He told you, making you raise an eyebrow. Was he that upset? You squealed with he lifted you over his shoulder, dishes left on the coffee table. 

You gripped the back of his shirt. “Sam?!” You could tell he was carrying you towards the stairs. 

When he nipped your hip, you were surprised. “We’re going to make that baby, sweetheart.” He told you. “God, I can’t wait.” He groaned. 

[thatsrightice]

Aug 16, 1943 - Most of the day filled with alarms and excursions regarding the mission projected for tomorrow - general impression is both Zebra and Sunflower will be attacked tomorrow. Base on full alert, late in the day. Crew warned to prepare canteens, extra rations, arms, shelter halves, iron rations and other ominous articles. Afraid it is real.

Aug 17, 1943 (Regensburg) - Hunch was correct. The Group took off, maximum strength at 0730 hours on the long awaited shuttle trip to North Africa. Twenty-one (21) aircraft took off - Major Kidd leading, Major Egan second in command, Major Cleven and Major Veal led their Squadrons. A good many eggs in one basket. The Bombardier and Navigator had been studying the target for week, but did not know its name or location until the briefing. Objective was characterized in the annex to the Field Order as "The most important ever bombed anywhere." Entire station is sweating this one out - Doris Flesson back on the field with Walter Logan of UP to interview the crews when they return - expected in three days.

Aug 18, 1943 - No new directly from our Combat Crews. Bomber Command has word from Colonel Curtis LeMay, who led mission, that the target was destroyed - we know that the boys got to the target and LeMay's plane at least reached North Africa. Rumor that about 115 Fortresses were safely on the ground, seven in the Mediterranean Sea and two on Switzerland. Today our seven remaining crews took off to raid Dutch airports. Interrogation was interrupted to show crews photos, just received, of what the boys did at Regensburg - it was blasted to Hell and Gone. ME assembly plant in shambles - about a square mile of ruins. Photos show the Red Cross Hospital on the edge of the target area untouched - testifying to the accuracy of our bombing. The 100th MPI (Mean Point of Impact) obliterated. If our crews return safely it will have been a great mission for us any case will go down as one of the great air exploits of the war.

Aug 20, 1943 - Still sweating out our Combat Crews - no hint as to when they will return. Operations hasn't heard a word, although higher headquarters may have. Not a hint as to individual Group losses.

Aug 21, 1943 - Terrific rainstorm during the night - a regular Texas dew. Still overcast and raining this morning, so boys will probably won't get home today. Note: Officers mess profited indirectly by this mission. Combat Crew mess was unable to refrigerate their consignment of eggs - lowly Paddlefeet at eggs like gentlemen.

Aug 22, 1943 - Today is black, though memorable day for the 100th. Colonel Harding flew to Prestwick, where Major Egan and crew of Scott’s and Wolff’s planes were flown by ATC from North Africa. The 100th Bomb Group lost nine (9) planes in what may turn out to be the greatest aerial battle of the war. We lost Hollenbeck, Claytor, Hummel, Braley all of the 350th: Van Noy and Shotland of the 349th, Oakes of the 351st and Knox and Biddick of the 418th. Fighting lasted from Antwerp to the target – 2 hours and 10 minutes – with every type of fighter the Jerries could get up…

— entry’s from the diary of Marvin “Red” Bowman, Group Intelligence Officer of the 100th BG

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x5 Good Form

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 745

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian touched his lips softly, almost reverently, as he sat alone in the forest. She’d kissed him.  She’d actually kissed him.  Killian reached for his flask, needing the familiar burn of the rum on his tongue to prove to himself that he was awake and was not, in fact, in the throws of a delicious dream.

He’d flirted with her, smiling his teasing smile and playfully touching his lips as he suggested a way she might thank him for his service toward her father, but he’d never expected her to take him up on his suggestion.

Not that he was complaining.  That kiss had been…. He blew out a long sigh.  Even for a man so normally silver tongued as he was, there were no words.

It was more than the kiss itself–that had been steamy, passionate, blissful, of course–but it was more than that. It was….it was what the kiss revealed.

He loved her.  He was in love with her.  She’d snuck under his defenses as stealthily as any pirate could have, and without his knowledge, she’d taken possession of his heart.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, if he were being honest.  He’d never been one to bestow his love lightly, but when he did, there was no going back.  He’d spent two-hundred bloody (often literally) years in Neverland because of love for Milah, for heaven’s sake.  The thought of moving on from her, of bestowing his heart on another and giving her the power to crush it as thoroughly as Milah’s death had done…

He took another long swallow.

Well, there was nothing for it now.  It had happened.  He’d fallen in love again.

As he continued to sit and ruminate on the events of the day, it occurred to him that while the revelation of his love was momentous, it was by no means the only noteworthy thing that had happened that day.

This place, Neverland, had a truly ghastly effect on its inhabitants.  It had a way of bringing one's worst fears, one's greatest insecurities, one's biggest regrets to mind.  This place was depression in physical form.  He’d survived his last stint here with the aid of one thing and one thing only–his revenge.  That goal, that singular purpose had allowed him to keep his wits about him.

This time around….well, the fact that he’d allowed the Crocodile on his ship, formed a tentative truce with him, proved that he had given up on that revenge.  Without that singular focus to ruminate upon, he’d spent the hours on this island this go around reminded of his sins, his faults, the fact that he was a villain whom the heroes tolerated only.

Hadn’t David said it himself this morning? “Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook. She’s never gonna like you.  How could she?  You’re nothing but a pirate.”

Though he’d tried to keep the mocking grin on his face, it had stung, and for the first time, Killian realized how very much he wanted to change his life, become the kind of man Emma’s father–a man who was so much like his own hero, Liam–would approved of.

But at that moment, the gloom of Neverland had descended, and he’d come to realize he’d never be that man; he’d never overcome his past.  He’d never reach a higher status than “the pirate with which we’ve formed a temporary but begrudging alliance”.

And so it had continued throughout the day.  David had taken pains to make his disdain and dislike known and felt, taking small verbal digs at him, even as he attempted to save his life.

So it was that the second most astounding event of the day–second only to the kiss–had happened.  When they’d returned to camp after achieving their ends at the top of Dead Man’s Peak, David had not only given him credit, but had toasted him, had bestowed on him the look of approval and gratitude Killian had never dared hope to receive from him.

It had embarrassed him a bit, having the entire company of heroes and Regina (he still wasn’t sure where upon the hero-villain spectrum she truly belonged) raise a flask to him, but the warmth it engendered had been as potent as his rum.

For the first time, he could see a way forward.  Maybe he didn’t have to be forever defined by his past villainous deeds.  Perhaps….perhaps there was a path to redemption available for him after all.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[bloodgulchblog]

Alright fuck it, s2e1 liveblog.

I'm watching this with people later so the goal is just to get through it enough to sate my impatience, so I'm back to ye olde standby of watching it at high speed with subtitles on. (...Only I guess I'm gonna be slowed down by making comments, huh?)

Spoilers and uncharitable opinions and unfunny jokes will follow.

Not going to talk about stuff in the episode opener until it comes back bc there's not enough to say anything about.

5 minutes in and we're already doing whatever this is huh?

6:30 - Alright okay, fuck, Vannak took his spine pellet out and gets to have one (1) personality trait and it's animal facts and I kind of don't hate that. TV Chief is very unlikable but characters like Kai and Vannak playing the angle of having very youthful quirks bc having emotions is new is cute.

~10:00 - I have nothing to say yet about spooky shapes in the fog but I think this shot of Chief back to back with a marine is fun. Also I wonder if Corporal Perez (this character) will still matter 5 minutes from now.

Also looks like the foggy sword fight from the trailer is here, too difficult to get any kind of cap that doesn't suck out loud. I'm thinking about how I heard someone making a big deal about how Season 2 feels "less like a video game" (whatever that means), meanwhile "fog full of stealth sword guys trying to kill you" feels very very video game level.

~13:00 - Man, and I really thought that sword fighting stuff in the trailer was a solid indicator they were dragging Thel 'Vadamee into this mess. Hey guys look, Arbiter's in this season. 4,000 of him!

Additionally, if a bunch of people decide this is a ship the fandom owes me twenty dollars.

~15:00 - Congrats to Perez for surviving five minutes. Also, we're still doing whatever this is:

16 minutes in we finally get the show's opener. (It has the Halo in it now, I don't think it was there before but let's be perfectly honest it's not like I cared a lot.)

~17:30 or something, reminded once again that a lot of people are attracted to this actor

Also guess what, Keyes is an Admiral now I guess????

Do we think he still gets to get eaten by the Flood eventually? Do we think the Flood will even be in here? Place ur bets at the counter.

Anyway, they're basically diving into a big timeskip here where a bunch of planets have been glassed since last season (including Madrigal). This whole AU is weird to the bone in terms of how its timeline is shaking out.

Anyway anyway, aww here we go

"I'm not here to replace Dr Halsey, I'm here because I believe in you!"

Ohhhhh he knows all the Spartans' names already, ohhhhh they want the audience to like this mf so bad, they want it to be such a tweest that he sucks shit-

Moving right along, at 22:30 we have the Rubble having a crowd decide whether various refugees should be spaced or taken into indentured servitude, because of course we do.

tl;dw the nebbish redhead knows where Catherine Halsey is and there's a big bounty out for her and he's trying to use it as a bargaining chip to not die and everyone thinks that's very funny, also Soren is here. I guarantee he decides to go after her, but first we have to have a scene cut back to whatever TV Chief is doing.

Man I'm really noticing they haven't shown the weird ridged rubber tech suit yet this episode, I wonder if they decided to replace it.

Anyway here's Perez, I still think they want people to start shipping:

Then Jimmy Rings has a meeting with tv show's new guy they want you to like so bad.

Also he says "The O-N-I" like a complete tool. (This is how you know he sucks.)

And while I'm talking trash about him: Ackerson stop flirting, didn't they tell you nobody's allowed to be gay in Halo? Get your shit together.

Thus ends the dream of the funniest possible universe where we just had Cortana: The Show forever. Someone get the penny whistle. My heart will not go on. 😢

Fuck, I was doing timestamps, right? I'm like half an hour in.

THEY STILL WANT YOU TO THINK ACKERSON CARES, BY THE WAY, IN CASE YOU DID NOT NOTICE

They're laying this on so thick so fast there's no way he's not a shitweasel in this AU, but also that would be the funniest possible thing to me.

(If anyone ships this, the fandom owes me forty dollars and therapy.)

ANYWAY... Action figure time. (Remember to boycott Jazwares!)

Soren's kid is playing with a MASTER CHIEF ACTION FIGURE and being weird, meanwhile Soren's wife is calling him out on shit and reminding him that refugees being turned away is, you know, bad.

Congrats to Soren's wife for continuing to be the most unexpectedly sympathetic supporting character I guess, but they made Soren so unlikable off the 1st season it's hard for me to feel investment of any kind here.

35 minutes in: the Spartans are watching a space TV broadcast. They have Ca-ADMIRAL. Admiral. Admiral Keyes presenting the Colonial Cross to Corporal Perez for blah blah blah you saw the start of the episode. The shape of the ceremony and the hovering tv drone thing are obvious H2 references.

(Does this mean Perez is our Sergeant Johnson now? Vote with your phones.)

Get your face out of here, Ackerson, I know what you are.

Oh god there's another team of Spartans (Cobalt) and having adult Spartan-IIs call each other names like children is fucking weird.

Aaaaand tumblr is capping the number of images I can post here and I'm still only about half way done. Fuck. I am not doing this this way for Episode 2 I can promise you that.

(Also hey look the tech suit is back, I guess Silver Team doesn't use it so much anymore to show you they're more human now or whatever?)

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 26

Do you ever write a chapter and just...hate it?

That was this chapter and I've been working and reworking it over and over again and this morning it finally clicked what I was missing and so I hope you enjoy this chapter more than I do, because I have beef with this chapter.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 Content Warnings: unhealthy parent dynamics All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

“So,” I began, trying my best not to fidget, “How do you find Berdusk?” 

The Lady Allara seemed to be a timid creature, we had been walking along the grounds for at least an hour and conversation was dreadfully, painfully slow. Some might be surprised to know that her conversation skills were inferior to that of orcs. 

“Oh, it’s quite nice.” She replied, blinking her wide eyes at me. She had an uncanny gaze that never strayed from my face. I could never tell if she was pleased when she looked at me, or simply frightened out of her mind, either way her wide, globulous eyes and her open mouth smile never was not on me.

There truly was no time to be amused by anything, but I couldn’t help but think that Drun would find her just as unsettling as I, and there was some warm comfort in that. Despite the distance and not knowing his condition, I still felt him near me. He was in my every waking thought and motivated every breath I took. He would return to me, that I was determined, and in the meantime I forced myself to believe that all was well and that what I was doing was enough.

I looked behind me and bit back the sigh I wanted to release when I locked eyes with the guards who followed us close behind. 

Earlier that day, Commander Gideon had only just left before those same guards  had returned with the servants to prepare me for the day. Since then, they had not left my sight, even within the privacy of my own room. It took much wailing and gnashing of teeth to convince them to let me bathe without one of them watching me. The absolute perverts.

“Do you miss Triel?” I asked Allara. “You’ve been gone almost a fortnight, is that correct?”

She shrugged, “I’m content to go where father takes me.”

Odd answer. I looked over at her again. Her expression was vacant of most any emotion. She didn’t look anywhere but me, in fact I don’t think she had looked out at the gardens once.

“My mother started this garden, you know.” I changed the subject. “She brought seeds from her homeland, isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes, quite.” She neither blinked nor looked away from me, not even once. 

I swallowed thickly. “My lady, is everything alright?”

“Perfectly.” She said, “And you?”

I narrowed my eyes while I looked back at the guards, “The same, I suppose.” I said vacantly. They wouldn’t give away anything. Even if they knew, they’re helmets concealed too much of their face to even help.

“How about some tea?” I asked. I needed to distract myself from her and a drink and something sweet to eat from the kitchen seemed like a good idea.

“Whatever you wish, my lord.” She said, “That sounds perfectly splendid.”

“Do you like tea?”

“Oh yes.” She bowed her head.

“Hmmm.” I nodded softly. I clasped my hands behind my back as I led her and the two guards behind us back into the interior of the Great Hall. I glanced back one last time to the gardens, appreciating the work that had been done to keep my mother’s plants alive. Someday, Drun would see it, I vowed.

The kitchens were pleasantly warm and quite busy when we entered. The head cook glanced up and nodded sagely when I walked in. They were used to my brothers and I coming in after our studies to enjoy a sweet treat with some tea. It was a safe space amongst so few of them and the cook was always kind even though I had never seen them speak a word in all my time knowing them.

They moved quickly to set two seats for myself and Allara to rest and then placed a setting for each of us to receive tea. A kettle was already beginning to boil.

“My lord, what a surprise!” I turned and gasped when I saw in the corner the large shadowy shape of a Dragonborn. How had I not seen them there? Doxxah was carrying a tray of baked goods, steam still rising from them.

“Doxxah! Wonderful to see you.” I said. I gestured for Lady Allara to take a seat, which she obliged with no objection. I stepped away, closer to my old friend.

“Likewise my lord, though a bit unexpected.” Doxxah gave a knowing stare. “Would you care to help me?”

I glanced at my fiance, who sat contentedly on her chair, her feet swinging slightly back and forth. From my distance it even seemed she had more of a natural smile on her face as she held her cup of tea. I turned back to Doxxah and nodded, “I would be honoured to help.”

 “How is the Lady Allara?” Doxxah’s voice was soft, not carrying above the sounds of the kitchen in use. We both glanced over at her, but the girl did not seem to notice the conversation being about her.

“Odd.” I said. “But not unkind.”

They nodded in acknowledgement. “And how is your paramour?”

“I do not know.” I answered. I glanced at the guards standing at the door. “I am…a bit stuck.”

They nodded. “Take heart, my lord, things will work out.” They placed a clawed hand upon my shoulder and winked. “You have many who are eager to see you happy.”

I bowed my head, “I know that, I am grateful.”

“There’s a but in there.” They said.

“But what if even after everything, my happiness can never be mine?”

“Hmmm, an honest question.” They reached for the last tray they had that had rows of steaming cinnamon rolls. I reached and pulled them from the tray and onto the serving plates on the table next to us. “Truly I am not the right person for this question, for I am ever the optimist. If you are not happy, my lord, then that is not your ending. Do not settle until then.”

“But what if he’s gone?” I breathed. I wasn’t certain if they could even hear me. To utter my greatest fear aloud, that Drunrag might be dead without my knowing, haunted me. I was suddenly shivering where I stood.

“Oh my young lord.” Doxxah lifted a plate with a roll on it and placed it into my hand. “Do not dwell on what we do not know. Take heart and in the meantime, warm your stomach with what is good. I have to be going, but I am always nearby.” They bared their teeth in a friendly, but also quite ferocious grin directed at the guards. They lifted their stack of trays and waved to the cook who was already working on a different dish before they made their way out of the kitchen.

I sighed. I supposed Doxxah was right. I had no way of knowing and thinking about it so obsessively made no difference. I needed to follow through on my plan. 

If I’m not happy, then it’s not the end. Not yet.

Lady Allara didn’t react as if I had even stepped away when I sidled into the seat next to her and placed a plate with her own cinnamon roll in front of her. “For you.” I said. 

Her eyes locked onto me, a sudden passing expression of fear on her gaze. “You are very kind.” She said, her voice was lower than normal, more mellow and somber. “I’m sorry.” she whispered.

“Sorry?” I asked. “Whatever for?”

She looked down into the bottom of her cup. “Our parents aren’t very honest people, are they?”

I drew my hands back from the table and onto my lap. “Allara, is there something you know that I don’t?”

Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t meet my eyes. 

“Whatever you can do, don’t play their game.” She finally met my gaze. There was hate and rage in those eyes, her demure appearance shed away to reveal a creature filled with spite and revenge.  “My father and your father…they each hold each other in a chokehold of secrets. There would be no reason for a wedding if those secrets were conveniently revealed.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How might one go about that?” 

The doors suddenly burst open and I jumped, I spun in my seat and looked down at my uneaten pastry.

“There you are!” The Duke of Triel exclaimed, my father just at his heels. “We thought you two would be in the garden. We had to search all over to find you.” His voice was jovial, but when I spared a stare I caught a sharpness in his stare as he closed the distance between himself and his daughter.

“I should have known you’d show her your favourite haunts, son.” My father smirked, but it was not a kind one. “But at this hour? It is only an hour before suppertime.”

“My daughter tends to have an upset stomach if she’s consumed too many sweets before a meal. She’s probably got some shaking in her. Ah yes, there it is. Come my love.” The Duke of Triel spoke quickly as he ushered towards the young woman and pulled her away from her seat. I watched as her eyes met mine. There was nothing vacant or uncanny in them. They were alert and locked onto me and then, the duke’s hands were on her and she was dragged away and soon out of my sight.

Did they truly think I was an idiot to not see what was happening here? I looked over to my father, glaring.

“Any particular reason you’re so displeased with me today, son?” He asked dryly, “Or is it the same as usual?”

“What are you doing to her?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” My father asked. All innocence in his tone. 

I rose to my feet. “You’re both up to something, and we’re being used as your pawns. I won’t accept such dishonesty, especially from you. It’s time we stop following in the steps of our forefathers. Look where it got you. Where it got our whole family. If I am to take your place as Duke, I will set the precedent now that this will not continue.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure what you’re seeing that’s making you so upset, son. I expect a bit more congenial attitude at supper. And you better be dressed.” Was my father’s only response before he turned and walked out.

I slumped back into my chair and looked down at my tea and cinnamon roll, both still warm. I took a bite and felt the hot buttery bread soften and melt in my mouth, cinnamon pervading any other flavor. I suddenly felt hot tears on my face. 

“Drun.” I said under my breath, burying my face into my hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing without you.”

I should have hurried back to my quarters to dress for supper, but I held back for as long as I could. I savored each bite of the pastry, and then slowly sucking the icing and cinnamon off of my fingers. I imagined another world where Drunrag was sitting next to me, sitting on his hands as he expectantly watched me try something Doxxah taught him how to bake. I showered him with praises and let him lick the sugar on my lips before kissing me deeply. 

My stomach twisted at the sight of it all. If only it could be so blissful. More tears spilled over.

“Brother.” 

I raised my head and Selhar had taken Allara’s empty seat. His eyes were wide with concern. 

“I’m fine.” I said, “Just thinking too much.” I sat up straight and wiped my hands clean. “Will you be at supper?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just for you and Allara and the Duke. Father insisted on privacy.” He dropped his bottom lip. “Whose pastry is this?” He suddenly asked, a touch of his young childhood whine snuck into his voice as he looked down at the roll before him.

“Yours, if you want it.” I sniffed and wiped my nose. “Lady Allara was meant to eat it, but she had somewhere else to be.”

“But I think this might be yours.” He said, sliding out a small slip of paper from beneath the plate. In small, loopy script was written, “Altan.”

Selhar kept an eye on me as I unfolded the slip, but his mouth was already full of the warm roll. 

Altan,

I don’t know if I will ever have the presence of mind to give this to you, but you must know the truth from my side. You and I are victims of dishonorable men who happen to be our fathers. Neither of us want this marriage, I’m aware. So let us help one another. 

My father, the Duke of Triel, is the father of at least five illegitimate children. There may be more. I have in here included the names of those I was able to track down. Since my father discovered my knowledge of them, he has kept me drugged so that I will not reveal his secret. But you may be able to do something with this information.

Lastly, even when I am under the influence of the herbs my father forces on me, I am still aware of many things. I’ve heard our fathers speak about the underground guild known as the Red Hunters. I have always understood them to be a neutral force that is swayed by whatever is the stronger power. At this time, the Red Hunters and your father’s partnership is built upon a common enemy: the orcs that reside in the Fields of the Dead. The Red Hunters are promised a share of those lands after the orcs have been cleansed and your father intends to use the rest to expand the Trade routes that exist beyond Triel and Berdusk. Perhaps a bargain can be struck if you can offer something greater.

Should we both remain in the chains our fathers built for us, please know that I will not hold any ill will towards you.

Yours, 

Allara

I passed the note to Selhar and rose to my feet. “See if you can get this to who it needs to. I have to go.” I reached for his head and tussled it lightly. I didn’t dare say anything else with the present company, but I met his stare and we each shared a nervous smile. “And take a sweet to Robin. He’d like that.”

Things would be alright, I thought to myself, I still had my brothers to look after. Drunrag haunted my every thought, but I had to be realistic. My brothers were just as important and I would not abandon them.

The dining hall was vacant of any guests except for myself, Allara, The Duke of Triel and my own father, the Duke of Berdusk. It was a small, intimate dinner arrangement that only took up one end of a very elongated table. I wished that Selhar and Robin could be there, if only to distract me from the uncomfortable stare I would get from the three other guests.

Allara’s expression had returned to its vacant, empty stare and she answered everything with the same politeness and poise that I was familiar with. I searched for some sign of that trembling, human girl beneath, but whatever the Duke had done to her had suppressed her completely. I eyed the Duke cautiously as he sat across and to the right of me.

In a rare act of humbleness, my father had left the head of the table vacant to sit next to me on my right and across from the Duke of Triel. It certainly gave the appearance of two happy families preparing for a joyous wedding amongst friends.

It was just so far from that when we all knew that Allara and I were being used as toys in a game that we never were explained the rules to. And one of us wasn’t even given the presence of mind to fight back.

The food in front of me was decadent and elaborate, I envisioned the cook when I had seen them earlier that day, bustling from one end of the kitchen to the other. It was a wonder they managed to make it all on their own. But the passing thought that I kept coming to was fear that maybe if I took a bite, I too, would end up just like Allara, caught in a web that put me exactly where my father wanted me to be. Compliant, pleasant, obedient to his every desire.

“Something the matter?” My father asked under his breath. 

I looked over to him, blinking.

“You haven’t taken a single bite.”

Certainly words like that ease one’s worries when they believe they’re about to be poisoned. I felt my stomach as it twisted and I took a spoonful up to my lips and prayed silently to the gods that I would somehow be spared. Oh gods, spare me.

I waited for the inevitable to happen as I slowly chewed and swallowed the warm food. My father didn’t glance over in my direction as I held my breath and waited.

Nothing happened, thank gods.

“So, Altan.” The Duke Triel asked. “Your father and I took some time to discuss wedding dates. We believe sooner is better than later. What with kidnappings and other dangers about, we believe it’s best to heighten security and quicken the pace.”

“Is this something that can be negotiated?” I asked.

I felt a harsh boot jam into my foot below the table. I didn’t flinch or look away from the Duke of Triel.

“Well…is there a reason you would like to wait?” He asked.

“Oh yes, you see. I don’t think marrying so quickly is a competent choice on either of your parts. If such dangers are causing risk to myself and my betrothed, then such dangers also exist for our people. Until we can assure competent security and my kidnapper is brought before me, the wedding will not happen.”

“Son.” My father’s voice was tightlipped and forced. “This is not the time nor place.”

“Is it not?” I asked. “I was under the impression that you expected me to become the next Duke, what with all of those council meetings I was forced to attend. Should I not be thinking about the greater good for our people, and yours?” I nodded to the Triels. “I doubt a single council member would disagree that safety is our upmost priority, not secrecy. The people will want to celebrate this wedding, and I will have that for them, especially after so many years they’ve spent grieving the loss of our Duchess. But if you had wished me to be submissive as before, perhaps you should have expressed your intentions differently.”

Neither Duke spoke, which let me continue, “And seeing how between myself and Alarra, I seem to be the only cognizant one present in a conversation, I suppose the decision is left up to me, isn’t it my betrothed?” I asked sweetly. 

“Whatever you wish, my lord.” She responded with her saccharine tongue. “I am happy to be by your side.”

I grinned. “See?”

“She has not been well, my lord.” Her father replied.

“That’s apparent.” I sniffed with contempt. “I promise the both of you, that whatever secrets you have hidden so deep beneath your fine coats and thick necks, I will expose the both of you, unless you promise me my kidnapper returned to me alive.”

“An empty threat son.” My father said, “End the theatrics now.”

I turned sharply to face him. “Is it? You don’t know what I know. Two can play this game father, and you were such a good teacher.” I said, my grin widening. I rose to my feet. “But the game will end and when it does, I hope your names are sent straight to the nine hells.”

I didn’t wait to be excused, nor did I look back to see their faces.  Half of the battle was convincing them that I was worth being feared, intimidated by and carrying the confidence to not care what they thought. 

I stepped out into the hall and let out a deep breath. I predicted that things would likely get worse before they got better, but I was determined to see this through.

I was followed back to my chambers with an extra guard in tow. I glanced back at them and winked before stepping into my room and hearing one of them following in behind me. 

I was surprised to find Robin asleep on my bed. His face had sticky bits of frosting on his cheek. He looked peaceful. I let out a sigh. There would be no rest for me, not yet.

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[scotianostra]

James Allan Mollison was born on April 19th 1905 in Glasgow.

Graeme Obree, Chris Hoy and a certain steam train have all bee called The Flying Scotsman in their time, but the original title goes to a man who actually did fly, Jim Mollison.

Jim would go on to become a pioneering aviator, breaking records for long distance flights. His marriage to fellow aviator Amy Johnson also saw them lauded as the golden couple during their time together.

Born the only child of Hector Alexander Mollison, a consultant engineer, and Thomasina Macnee Addie. He was educated at The Glasgow Academy and Edinburgh Academy and took an early interest in flying and obtaining his Royal Air Force (RAF) Short Service Commission at 18, he was the youngest officer in the service, and upon completion of training was posted to India, flying on active service in Waziristan.

At the age of 22, Mollison became a flying instructor at Central Flying School (CFS), again setting the record for being the youngest in this role. Shortly after, he transferred to the RAF Reserve and devoted his time to civil aviation. In 1928-29, he served as an instructor with the South Australian Aero Club in Adelaide, leaving that position to become a pilot with Eyre Peninsular Airways and Australian National Airways.

In July-August 1931, Mollison set a record time of eight days, 19 hours for a flight from Australia to England, and in March 1932, a record for flying from England to South Africa in 4 days, 17 hours flying a de Havilland Puss Moth.

Mollison eventually served in the ATA Air Transport Auxiliary in the Second World War. In June 1941 Mollison and an ATA crew delivered Cunliffe-Owen OA-1 G-AFMB to Fort Lamy, Chad. The aircraft was fitted out as a personal transport for General De Gaulle.

Mollison was feted in London and New York, and could lead the life he had always wanted. “I am a night bird,” he once said. “Life and enjoyment begin when daylight fades. Cocktail bars and clubs, music, beautiful women— that’s living. Daylight comes to me as an interval for sleeping until an afternoon drink helps to bring on another evening.” His autobiography was called “Playboy of the Air”.

When Mollison and Amy Jonson married in 1932 the press were delighted, they were dubbed The Flying Sweethearts by the press and public. . The match was was perfect for the publicity machine, and the two of them set about devising new aviation records: in 1933 they flew together from Wales to New York and had a ticker-tape reception in Wall Street. But marriage did not last long or end well. It has sometimes been assumed that the match was a simple career move on Mollison's part: certainly he did not halt his relationships with other women. Nor did it limit his drinking. As I said earlier, he got the tag “ the Flying Scotsman” but those close to him called him “Brandy Jim”.

As well as his Playboy lifestyle and heavy drinking Jim Mollison was also quick with his fists, and a manager from the Grosvenor House Hotel was reported as saying ” We've had the most awful night here. Jim Mollison and Amy Johnson had a fearful row and he's beaten her up. The bathroom looks like a slaughterhouse.” The marriage officially ended in 1938.

Mollison kept flying, and – like Johnson – flew in a non-combat role in WWII. Both of them flew in the Air Transport Auxiliary. Johnson died in 1941 after baling out of aircraft. Mollison had at least one close escape, when his plane was shot up, but survived the war.

Mollison later settled in London and ran a public house. He married Maria Clasina E. Kamphuis in 1949 at the Maidenhead Register Office. Mollison continued to abused alcohol and in 1953, the Civil Aviation Authority Medical Board revoked his pilot's licence. The couple separated but Maria bought the Carisbrooke Hotel in Surbiton for him – a temperance hotel.

Suffering from acute alcoholism, he was admitted to The Priory, Roehampton, southwest London, where he died on 30 October 1959, the official cause of death was pneumonia, but unofficially it was thought to be alcoholic epilepsy.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

The Workers in the Vineyard

1 “The kingdom from heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. 2 After agreeing to pay the workers one denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard. 3 When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing in the marketplace without work. 4 He told them, ‘You go into the vineyard, too, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ 5 So off they went. He went out again about noon and about three o’clocke and did the same thing. 6 About five o’clock he went out and found some others standing around. He asked them, ‘Why are you standing here all day long without work?’ 7 They told him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He told them, ‘You go into the vineyard as well.’

8 “When evening came, the owner of the vineyard told his manager, ‘Call the workers and give them their wages, beginning with the last and ending with the first.’ 9 Those who were hired at five o’clock came, and each received a denarius.

10 “When the first came, they thought they would receive more, but each received a denarius as well. 11 When they received it, they began to complain to the landowner, 12 ‘These last fellows worked only one hour, but you paid them the same as us, and we’ve been working all day, enduring the scorching heat!’

13 “But he told one of them, ‘Friend, I’m not treating you unfairly. You did agree with me for a denarius, didn’t you? 14 Take what is yours and go. I want to give this last man as much as I gave you. 15 I am allowed to do what I want with my own money, am I not? Or are you envious because I’m generous?’

16 “In the same way, the last will be first, and the first will be last, because many are called, but few are chosen.”

Jesus Predicts His Death and Resurrection a Third Time (Mark 10:32-34; Luke 18:31-34)

17 When Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the twelve disciples aside and told them as they were walking along, 18 “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the high priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death. 19 Then they will hand him over to unbelievers to be mocked, whipped, and crucified, but on the third day he will be raised.”

The Request of James and John (Mark 10:35-45)

20 Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons. She bowed down in front of him to ask him for a favor. 21 He asked her, “What do you want?”

She told him, “Promise that in your kingdom these two sons of mine will sit on your right and on your left.”

22 Jesus replied, “You don’t realize what you’re asking. Can you drink from the cup that I’m going to drink from?”

They told him, “We can.”

23 He told them, “You will indeed drink from my cup. But it’s not up to me to grant you a seat at my right hand or at my left. These positions have already been prepared for others by my Father.”

24 When the ten heard this, they became furious with the two brothers. 25 But Jesus called the discipless and said, “You know that the rulers of the unbelievers lord it over them and their superiors act like tyrants over them. 26 That’s not the way it should be among you. Instead, whoever wants to be great among you must be your servant, 27 and whoever wants to be first among you must be your slave. 28 That’s the way it is with the Son of Man. He did not come to be served, but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many people.”

Jesus Heals Two Blind Men (Mark 10:46-52; Luke 18:35-43)

29 As they were leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed Jesus. 30 When two blind men who were sitting by the roadside heard that Jesus was passing by, they shouted, “Have mercy on us, Lord, Son of David!” 31 When the crowd told them harshly to be silent, they shouted even louder, “Have mercy on us, Lord, Son of David!”

32 Jesus stopped and called them, saying, “What do you want me to do for you?”

33 They told him, “Lord, we want to be able to see!” 34 Then Jesus, deeply moved with compassion, touched their eyes, and at once they could see again. So they followed him. — Matthew 20 | International Standard Version (ISV) The International Standard Version of the Holy Bible Copyright © 1995-2014 by ISV Foundation. All Rights Reserved internationally. Cross References: Leviticus 19:13; Deuteronomy 15:9; Deuteronomy 24:15; Job 30:8; Isaiah 51:17; Isaiah 51:22; Jeremiah 18:6; Jonah 4:8; Matthew 4:21; Matthew 8:20; Matthew 9:27; Matthew 9:37; Matthew 10:4; Matthew 13:4; Matthew 13:24; Matthew 21:1; Matthew 22:12; Matthew 23:11; Matthew 26:50; Mark 9:35; Mark 10:31; Mark 12:15; Mark 14:15; Mark 15:33; Luke 13:30; Luke 20:24; Luke 23:44; John 6:41; Acts 16:19; Acts 17:17; James 1:11

[doctorstethoscope]

Fluffy February Day 15 || Quality Time

pairing: hotch x reader

wordcount: 722

contains: food consumption, mentions of alcohol

Aaron’s morning routine was 73 minutes long. He woke up, took an 8 minute shower, then spent 11 minutes getting dressed and waking Jack up. While Jack dressed himself, Aaron would make breakfast for all three of you (17 minutes), and you’d eat as a family at the table (22 minutes, but sometimes longer if you or Jack was having a particularly sluggish morning). The three of you would pile into the SUV (6 minutes, or longer if Jack wants to tie his own shoes), drive Jack 9 minutes to his school, and then head into the office. 

Aaron was regimented with his time, yes. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t also generous with it. 

“What do you mean we’re going away for the weekend?” You asked Aaron that night when he produced a mystery go-bag he’d packed for you without your knowledge.

“I mean that the soccer season is over, which means no more 7am Saturday wakeups, and I wanted to commemorate the occasion by being lazy in bed with you all weekend with no distractions. Jack’s spending the weekend with his cousins. We all technically exceeded the FBI’s maximum working hours on the last case, so no one is calling us in. It’s you and me and a big comfy bed above a vineyard,” he insists as he shuts his computer down. 

“When did you have the time to plan this?” You ask, the grin on your face assuring him that you’re not upset. 

“I made the time. You and I need this— some time just us,” he reminds you, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Do you want to see pictures, or do you want to be surprised?” 

The pictures, as it turned out, didn’t do the place justice. It was a small little bed and breakfast, set right up on a vineyard, as Aaron had said. There was a wine bar nestled into the small library off of the library, and your room had a spacious sitting area and a jacuzzi tub that you couldn’t wait to take advantage of. It had taken you a couple of hours to get there, so by the time you arrived all you had the energy for was room service and re-runs. You were determined to make the most of it on the second day.

When you wake up, Aaron’s already awake, his cheek propped up on his elbow as he gazes down at you. 

“Morning,” you mutter. “What time is it?” 

“Quarter past ten,” Aaron whispers back, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Why’d you let me sleep?” you ask, rousing awake at that. “We missed the vineyard tour.” 

“There’s another one in an hour, hon,” he reminds you. “There’s no rush.”

You’re perplexed by his statement, and get up regardless, changing out of your pajamas and into the casual outfit Aaron’s packed for you. “Do you want to go downstairs, grab a coffee and check out the library?” You ask. 

“Sounds perfect,” he agrees, changing quickly and following you down.

The inn seems to be empty except for you both  and the two owners, so Aaron pulls you into his lap on one of the vintage loveseats in the library after you’ve pulled a copy of Pride and Prejudice off the shelf. Aaron plucks the books from your hands gently, opening it up and reading it softly to you. You can feel the rumble of the words in his chest as he does so, and it’s enough to practically soothe you to sleep. 

“You are too generous to trifle with me,” Aaron reads aloud. “If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged—” 

“Oh, Aaron,” you interrupt. “We should probably get going if we want to make that vineyard tour. I’m so comfortable here though,” you lament. 

“So, let’s skip it. We can get a tour later tonight or tomorrow before we have to leave,” he assures you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

“Who are you and what have you done with my perfectly scheduled husband?” You tease. 

He chuckles down at you, shaking his head. “There’s no schedule. Just you and me, that’s what this weekend’s about,” he insists.  “As long as you and I are spending time together, I got what I came for.” 

tagging: @spacecowboyhotch @honeybrowne @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @infinite-tides @gspenc @anlin2058 @zetasaturno99 @realdirectionx @witheldclouds @sbeno22 @el-vs94 @hausofwhores

[dollystuartwrites]

Stray Gods - Chapter 32

Pairing: Gods!OT8 x !F!Reader

Genre: romance, friends to lovers, polyamory, mystery, supernatural, angst, fluff, smut

Wordcount: 3814

Chapters:  [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] [11] - [12] - [13] - [14] - [15] - [16] - [17] - [18] - [19] - [20] [21] - [22] - [23] - [24] - [25] - [26] - [27] - [28] - [29] - [30]   [31] - [32] - [33] - [34] - [35] - [36] - [37] - [38] - [39] - [?] MASTERLIST

Summary: With no memory of who you  were, you wake up in the woods, only to be found by eight unusually handsome men. With no information of the past, the guys decide to take you in and take care of you for the time being. But that time becomes  years, and as time passes, you start to notice that there is something  different about them... and something different about you...

Warnings: angst, praise, thigh riding, kissing, fingering, overstimulation, lovebites, bad/miscommunication, low self-esteem, swearing, name-calling, dry humping, college, degradation, gods, special powers, vaginal sex, oral sex (f&m), mentions of contraception (condoms&thepill), injuries, mentions of death (but no character deaths), virgin!reader, teasing, orgasms, poly relationship, semi-public sex, daddy kink, strength kink. I've probably forgotten some so let me know if I did and I will add more as the story progresses.

Taglist: @eastleighsblog @tangerminie​@speedybagelmongerpasta​ @swittyregan​ @septicrebel​ @jiimout​

Special thanks to my beta and cheerleader Millie.

Waking up in Changbin’s arms was utter bliss. His sweet pouty lips were slightly parted, and once again, you couldn’t help but be in awe of his beauty. You couldn’t believe how lucky you had been with him, with all the boys, with life, or this existence or whatever it was. You would’ve counted yourself lucky if you had simply been able to live in the same timeline as them, but having them as your friends and lovers was more than you could’ve ever wished for. Even though you knew you had been destined to be with them. Even though you knew you were a Goddess, and they were Gods, and you had picked them beforehand, it still felt like a blessing that you were forever thankful for.

You put your hand on his cheek, your thumb caressing his soft skin, and Changbin stirred. He opened his eyes, revealing their magical brownish-red colour. A soft smile appeared on his lips as he noticed you were awake’ too and stroking his face.

‘Good morning, my love,’ he whispered softly. You smiled at his words.

‘Good morning,’ you responded. Changbin moved his hand to cup yours for a moment, closing his eyes and savouring the feeling of you touching him. Softly he took hold of your hand and moved it from his skin, guiding it towards his lips to kiss the back of your hand.  

‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked you as he moved your hand to place it back on his cheek again.

‘Very,’ you answered, ‘You?’

‘Better than ever before,’ he said, grinning peacefully. He pulled you in close for a moment, and you nestled your face into his chest, taking in the warm, homey smell of him.

‘You were amazing last night,’ he said after a moment of silence, holding you close. You could feel yourself blush but knew he couldn’t see.

‘You were amazing,’ you said shyly, prodding his chest with your finger, and he chuckled. You could hear the rumbling in his chest.

You stayed nestled in his arms for a little longer. Besides sex and kissing, having the guys hold you closely was the best feeling in the world. You felt safe and relaxed like you belonged there. Which, in a way, however crazy the thought, you apparently did.  

‘Binnie?’ You said after what could’ve been a few minutes or hours. Changbin grumbled in response to let you know he had heard you. ‘What time is it?’ you asked.

‘Hmm,’ Changbin sounded. Without letting go of you, he scooted over to the side of the bed, where both of your phones sat on the nightstand. You could feel him reaching over you to pick one of the phones up and check for the time.

‘Time for breakfast,’ Changbin groaned. You could feel him putting the phone back on the nightstand before he let go of you to stretch himself with a yawn. ‘Sorry babydoll, can’t skip the most important meal of the day,’ he said, finding your eyes and giving your cheek a playful pinch, which made you giggle.

‘Actually, I’m pretty hungry too,’ you admitted. Changbin arched a brow playfully.

‘Really? Are you saying you’re dumping me for food? Don’t you wanna cuddle some more?’ he said with a pouty face and an aegyo voice. You gave him a playful indignant look.

‘But you just said-,’ you sputtered indignantly. Before you could finish your sentence, he rolled you over, pushing you softly on your back as he hovered over you.

‘I’m kidding,’ he chuckled, placing a soft peck on your forehead. You giggled once more, and Changbin rolled over to sit up at the edge of the bed. You got up to sit next to him.

‘Want me to get some clothes from your room?’ Changbin offered as he started putting his socks on. You shook your head quickly.

‘You know I much rather steal your clothes,’ you said playfully, but you meant it. Changbin grinned widely. Now and then, the boys would complain about how much you always stole their favourite clothing items, but you knew secretly they all loved it. Even Hyunjin, who often nagged you about it, somehow seemed to place his (and your) favourite shirt always at the top of the pile of clean clothes, making it oh so easy for you to find. However, you had seen the looks on their faces whenever you wore something of theirs. A mixture of pride and amusement would cross their faces before they would quickly roll their eyes and complain about how they had wanted to wear that specific item today, and they had been looking for it for ages.

Changbin rummaged through his closet and handed you a pair of clean joggers and a sweater. He already provided you with a clean pair of boxers yesterday after showering, and although big, they fit you comfortably enough not to have to get new ones from your own room. Changbin got dressed as well, and even though you had seen a lot of him last night already, you could still not keep your eyes off him.

‘Like what you see?’ he said boldly, but the light pink shade on his cheeks didn’t escape your notice.

‘Always,’ you said, getting up and walking over to him. You grabbed his upper arm, and he flexed his muscle. Even with two hands, you probably wouldn’t be able to fit around it. You looked at him in awe.

‘So strong,’ you muttered, more to yourself than to him, as you used your other hand to gently squeeze his other upper arm. Changbin’s cheek flushed even darker, but he looked incredibly proud and pleased with himself. As he should, in your humble opinion.

Changbin was holding your hand when the two of you arrived downstairs. You walked into the breakfast lounge to find all the others already sitting at the table. And with all the others, you did mean all the others. It was almost as if yesterday night’s (or more like this morning’s) get-together had never finished, and the boys simply had moved location. The two groups were scattered around the table, the members mixed up and talking with each other. The only reason you were sure they had stopped and gone back for at least a few hours of sleep was that they were all wearing something different. Hyunjin looked like he was still half asleep, and Jungkook’s hair was such a mess it was obvious he hadn’t bothered to brush it yet.

‘Good morning,’ Changbin said cheerfully as the two of you met the group. The both of you were met with kind greetings.

‘Hey! No hogging!’ Minho said teasingly when he noticed the two of you holding hands.

‘Yeah, dude, no hogging,’ Han went along playfully.

Changbin pulled a face but let go of your hand.

‘Do I get a say in this?’ you asked with a chuckle.

‘Definitely not,’ Han said, shaking his head and pulling out the empty chair beside him. You tutted at him but still went to sit next to him.

You looked around the table. Everyone was already eating and talking. Changbin went to sit next to Chan, who, to your happy surprise, was talking with Namjoon. The fact that you had come in holding Changbin’s hand seemed to surprise no one. Not even the other group had batted an eye at it. Not even when Minho had said something about it. Did they know?

For a moment, you felt slightly awkward about it, the idea of the other group knowing the relationship you had with your boys. But you decided to shake it off. There was no use in lingering on it; besides, they either did not care or did not mind - or both.

‘Slept well?’ Lady asked you. She was seated opposite you and, unlike most of the others, was already neatly dressed.

‘Erm, yeah, I did,’ you said, blushing slightly. ‘You?’

‘Bit short, but I’ll survive,’ Lady chuckled. Seeing her here suddenly made you remember a question you had had since earlier, which you had forgotten to ask her before.

‘Lady, I have another question,’ you began. She smiled at you and nodded.

‘Shoot away,’ she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

‘Well, when I, erm, arrived here on earth, I couldn’t remember anything about, you know, before. Is it always like that?’ you said, feeling a bit stupid for some reason. Lady nodded as she drank her coffee, and her answer made you feel slightly less stupid instantly. ‘Oh, okay. But why do we forget? Why don’t we remember who or what we are? I mean, the guys do know when they arrive, why not us?’ you said, feeling almost like it was unfair. Lady put her cup down.

‘That is a great question,’ she said, smiling. ‘And it’s also one I do not have an answer to.’

Her response made you feel slightly stunned.

‘I might know a lot, but I certainly don’t know everything either,’ Lady chuckled, seeing your stunned face. ‘I mean, I have theories, but I don’t know whether any of them are true, of course,’

‘What are your theories then?’ you said eagerly.

‘Well, one of them is that we kinda need to figure it out for ourselves,’ Lady said thoughtfully. ‘Like, our jobs as Goddesses are pretty intense,’

Minho made a sniffing sound, and you looked at him. He quickly straightened his face and looked away from you, but you had seen it. You kicked him under the table, and when he looked at you, annoyed, you returned his gaze with the same look.

‘Anyway,’ Lady said, clearly not missing the situation and the other side of the table, but there was still a small smile around the corners of her lips, ‘I think it’s necessary for us to do some self-discovery before we can guide them properly. Like getting some experience and understanding what it’s like to be human and how the world works before we take care of others,’

You nodded slowly, thinking about it.

‘However,’ she followed up, ‘Your story kind of debunks that theory, I think,’ she admitted.

‘Why?’ you said with a frown.

‘Well, all the other Goddesses I’ve met took quite a while before they remembered, and then it took them another while to find their Gods. But you, you found them instantly, and they immediately took you in, even though they didn’t know you or what you were,’ Lady said, frowning slightly. ‘It’s the first time I’ve heard about it. And the fact that it took you about what? Three, four years to figure everything out? That’s the fastest anyone’s ever done it, as far as I know,’ Lady said.

‘She’s a smarty pants,’ Han said, putting his hand around your shoulder and smiling proudly.

‘But I didn’t figure it out,’ you said, now also frowning. ‘I mean, I kinda figured out they were Gods by accident, but I never really understood what I was until I met you,’ you said.

‘True, and another hole in my theory,’ Lady admitted. ‘As I said before, all other Goddesses I’ve ever met figured out they were a Goddess before they recognised their Gods,’

You felt slightly uncomfortable, knowing that your journey hadn’t been the way it should have supposed to be.

‘It does, however, make sense with my other theory,’ Lady said suddenly. You looked up at her.

‘You might remember how painful it was to cross over,’ Lady spoke. A sudden memory crashed through your brain and made you cringe slightly. Minho and Han instantly looked at you, not missing your discomfort. You nodded, unable to stop your grimace. ‘Well, it could be something like a trauma response made by our human bodies,’ she suggested. ‘Our human bodies can’t take such a force, and the trauma of it might cause us to forget for a while, like some sort of protection maybe.’

‘That could make sense,’ you said thoughtfully.

‘Either way, I’m not sure if we’ll ever know the answer. There are still questions I’ve never found the answers to. We might be Goddesses, but we can’t know everything,’ she spoke wisely as she shrugged.  

You smiled.

A phone rang and Lady pulled hers out of her pocket.

‘Oh, my taxi is here,’ she said when she looked at the message.

‘Taxi?’ you said, surprised. Lady looked at you with a sad smile, getting up.

‘I’m leaving today,’ she said, her tone of voice apologetic.

‘Wait, what?’ you said, surprised, getting up as well.

‘Yeah,’ she sighed sadly, ‘There are some things I need to do.’ She pressed her lips together and looked at you.

‘Go time?’ Namjoon asked from further down the table. Lady nodded at him. Instantly all the other guys stopped their conversations and got up.

‘We’ll see you off then,’ Hoseok said with a soft face.

‘Will you be coming back?’ you asked quickly, as all the other Gods gathered around her. Lady shook her head apologetically.

‘But you have my number? You can always call and text me. I might not always reply instantly since I’m always busy, but I’ll always be there for you, sister,’ she said with a wink.

Even though you felt sad that she had to leave, you understood. You nodded, smiled and waved at her as she and the guys left the room to wave her goodbye.

The following days you spend mostly with the guys. Now and then, the other Gods joined your group for activities like dinners, hikes or sports. Changbin, Chan, Namjoon and Jungkook trained together every morning.

On Thursday afternoon, the boys decided to hold a baseball match on the pitch nearby. As usual, you went along to referee. After three matches, unsurprisingly all won by Seungmin’s team, the guys decided to call it a day regarding baseball. After dinner, since it was still light and warm outside, most guys decided to stay in and lounge at the poolside for a bit.

‘You guys go behave like children; I’m going out,’ Seungmin said when the nine of you arrived back at the hotel.

‘Where are you going?’ you asked curiously.

‘I wanna go take some pictures. There are a lot of really nice spots here,’ Seungmin said.

‘Can I join you?’ you asked. Seungmin looked slightly surprised by your request but then shrugged and nodded.

It was nice to spend some time with Seungmin. Although he wasn't very talkative because he was focused on taking pictures, you still enjoyed your time with him. It was quiet and calm for once.

‘I would think you’d prefer to take pictures of the sky or something instead,’ you told Seungmin when he took a closeup picture of a bush with small white flowers. Seungmin looked up and blinked.

‘Just because it’s my speciality doesn’t mean I don’t get to have other hobbies,’ he said savagely. ‘Quite narrow-minded of you to think like that.’

You pouted at him, but you weren’t offended at all. You knew Seungmin too well for that.

‘Besides, you’ve seen me take pictures before; you didn’t tell me I should’ve been taking pictures of the sky instead back then,’ he added.

‘But that’s because I didn’t know or realise what,’ you said, quickly looking around and slightly lowering your voice when you continued, ‘what you were back then.’

‘And because you do know now, you expect that it has changed?’ he teased. You shrugged. He did have a point. You knew about his interest in photography. You had seen him take pictures of the other guys, of you, of plants and flowers and of pretty views and urban sights. You even had a few of his photos hanging on your wall back in your room. None of them were of the sky nor had anything to do with the weather.

‘Why do you like it?’ you asked curiously.

This time it was Seungmin’s turn to shrug. ‘It’s calm, easy. Doesn’t cost much effort, and it’s not too loud,’ he said. You chuckled. Although he was one of the younger ones, he did look down on the other’s behaviour now and then. Not that he didn’t have his own moments of craziness. But in general, he could be more composed than the others.

You leaned back against a tree as you watched him take another photo. Seungmin turned around, checking the screen of his device for the result before he noticed you. He tilted his head slightly like a puppy trying to understand something as he stared at you.

‘What?’ you giggled.

‘You look pretty like that. Can I take your picture?’ he asked. Feeling slightly taken aback but flattered, you nodded. You didn’t take pictures often, especially not of yourself, but whenever someone else took your photo, it always made you feel extra awkward. You did your best to look natural and keep the pose and facial expression you had had when Seungmin had turned around, but it was hard. However, after trying a few different angles, Seungmin seemed satisfied and came over to show you.

‘Here,’ he said as he came to stand next to you and showed you the end result. The angle did indeed make you look good, and you couldn’t help but smile at the picture.

‘It’s nice,’ you nodded, feeling your cheeks slightly redden.

‘Shall we take one together?’ he suddenly asked fearlessly. Even though it wasn’t a big deal, it did make your heart bounce a little faster. You nodded, and Seungmin came to stand next to you, putting his arm around you. He pulled you in against him and leaned his head on top of yours. Before you could even realise what was happening, you had already heard a click. Seungmin checked the screen.

‘Oh, your eyes are closed,’ he noted. He brought the camera in front of the two of you again, and you quickly looked at the lens, trying your best at a “normal” smile. There was another click, and Seungmin checked his screen again. ‘This one is nice,’ he said, sounding satisfied. You looked at it as well but noticed there was a strand of hair that looked kind of weird.

‘No, wait, let’s retake it, my hair-’ you began, quickly trying to fix it.

‘It’s fine,’ Seungmin said, and out of nowhere, he planted a soft kiss on your cheek. ‘I’mma use it as my wallpaper,’ he said cheerfully, as he was already walking away, looking for a new spot to photograph. The butterflies in your stomach made you unable to protest any more, and you simply followed him.

After a few pictures of views and a wild squirrel, Seungmin returned to plants and flowers. He was just about to take a picture of a small blue flower when you tried to lean over to see it better. Something sharp and painful brushed your arm, and you hissed. Instantly Seungmin jumped up and turned around, noticing your arm. He put his phone away and grabbed your arm softly, inspecting it closely.

‘It’s just a scratch,’ you said, checking it for yourself, but noticing it wasn’t much, ‘It’s nothing.’

Seungmin shook his head. ‘You’re so clumsy,’ he said, clicking his tongue. He let go of your arm. ‘Gotta get it disinfected to be sure,’ he stated.

‘No, Seungmin, it’s fine, really,’ you huffed. It had barely scratched the surface of your skin, and although the lines were slightly red, there was no blood. But Seungmin didn’t take no for an answer. He grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the thornbush that had scratched you, walking in the direction of the hotel, not letting go of your hand. Even though you thought it ridiculous to go back or disinfect for such a small scratch, you still didn’t protest. You knew it would be of no use anyway. Instead, you entangled your fingers with Seungmin’s and let him drag you back.

Silently and carefully, Seungmin applied the cotton bud with the cream on your scratches. You looked around Seungmin’s hotel room. As usual, it was immaculate, compared to both your and Changbin’s room. You felt warm air brush your skin and looked back at your arm. Seungmin was blowing on the ointment he had applied. It didn’t sting at all.

Unlike his savage words sometimes, he often had times like these as well, where he was simply soft and sweet. He put down the cotton bud and grabbed the plaster he had prepared for you, unwrapping and meticulously putting it on you, oh so carefully.

When he was done, he looked up and smiled at you.

‘Thanks,’ you said, your voice coming out unexpectedly soft. Possibly because of how light you felt with all that fluttering in your stomach and head. Seungmin gave a curt nod and got up to throw the remnants of the products away.

‘Where do you wanna take pictures next?’ you asked, feeling slightly guilty you had cut his hobby session short.

‘It’s already getting dark outside; the lighting won’t be good anymore,’ Seungmin noted, pointing at the darkening sky that was visible through his curtains.

‘Oh,’ you breathed, feeling even more guilty.

‘Besides, I got all the shots I wanted to,’ he said carelessly. You weren’t sure if he was just saying that because he noticed your guilt or because he meant it, but you were still thankful he said it.

‘Oh. Right then,’ you said, slightly unsure what to do and got up as well.

‘Wanna watch a movie?’ Seungmin offered as he took his phone out of his pocket and connected it to the charger. You were happy to take any reason not to go back to your own room but stay with him instead, so you agreed immediately.

To your surprise, Seungmin propped up the pillows against the back of the bed and laid down on it, petting the spot next to you as a way of telling you to come to sit with him. Having already walked over to the couch, you quickly walked back, smiling at him sheepishly. Your heart had been pounding slightly, but as soon as Seungmin wrapped his arm around you again and you scooted close to him, it calmed down slightly, in a good way. It felt safe with him. Warm and at home, at ease. Being at his side felt good.

Without having to use the remote control, Seungmin switched on the tv.

‘You really have gotten the hang of that electricity thing, haven’t you?’ you giggled as you saw him flick through the channels with ease without having to lift a finger.

‘It’s rather convenient,’ he nodded with a smile. You put your head on his shoulder and your arm around his chest, feeling comfortable and happy with him while he flicked through the channels, looking for something for the two of you to watch. 

WRITERS NOTE:

Thank you for reading so far :)

My apologies for the inconsistent uploading. Besides writing I still work four days a week and have college one day a week. Most of my spare time is spent studying so I don't have a lot of time to write. After finishing a chapter, it also has to go through a wonderful and lovely beta LittleMissMillie2003 with whom without, this story definitely wouldn't be as good as it is today. Obviously, this precious beta writer also has a life, which means the chapters also sometimes take slightly longer before they can be posted.

I expect that I won't be able to upload as regularly or systematically as I used to. Sometimes you might get three chapters in three days, and sometimes you might have to wait for a week. I wish it could be different but I hope, despite the irregular uploads, you will still be able to enjoy this book.

I still have quite a few things planned, so it will definitely go on for a while longer.

Please enjoy :)

Lots of Love,

Dolly

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio’s 50 Years Of Hip-Hop. When the ‘Brentwood Era’ started, I had the dial on WBLS, one of New York City’s hip-hop / rap stations. It not only signified the first-ever genre I’d pay close attention to, but also signified the beginning of personal cassette dubbing.

For a few years, I’d record as much as possible off to the right of the dial, then later on Hot 97 and Kiss FM. I’d capture Kid Capri, Kool DJ Red Alert, Funkmaster Flex, and Ed Lover, Dr. Dre, and T-Money of Yo! MTV Raps. Running concurrently was In Living Color, a rap-centric die-laughing comedy show that introduced us to the Wayans Brothers, Homey The Clown, Fire Marshall Bill, The Homeboy Shopping Network, and more. My formative years listening to hip-hop / rap lasted as long from middle school to graduating senior year. There’s no shortage of mostly positive memories in Brentwood, in thanks to all of my cassette dubs from that era.

I returned to hip-hop / rap when I discovered WUSB a few years later and stumbled upon one of their shows, Ghetto Radio, who showed me a more underground side of things. Street FM, Eminent Audio, and The Basement practically changed my life because they introduced me to sampling culture, forever opening up a new world in getting to know more about myself. As soon as I became a Stony Brook student, I inquired about joining the station. Now, I became a dee-jay and gave back to our listeners the same way WUSB gave to me. It wasn’t until my second run at the station (Winter 2013) when I started Omega Radio and took my show more seriously.

For 11 years, we’ve taken every chance we get to play hip-hop / rap. Our shows started when we did a five-hour bonus broadcast to usher in a new year: classic Seventies’ vinyl classics on New Year’s Eve, then three hours of the rough stuff on New Year’s. Since then, we paid it forward by delivering all-time legends (The Notorious B.I.G., 2Pac), more golden-era cuts (EPMD, A Tribe Called Quest, Monie Love), the Eighties (Kool Moe D, MC Shan, Eric B & Rakim, classic old-school moments (Whodini, Sugar Hill Records, Afrika Bambaata), and even white-label underground releases (Lo-Down Click, Erule, Brother Arthur). Let’s not forget the ladies of the game, either (Queen Latifah, Monie Love, MC Lyte, and Yo-Yo to name a few).

Later on, we introduced deluxe editions of our shows consisting of golden-era legends still doing their thing (KRS-One, Onyx, Dres of Black Sheep), backpack artists (Jedi Mind Tricks, R.A. The Rugged Man, the Griselda camp), beat tapes (Fuzzoscope, All These Fingers), and newer artists (clipping., Danny Brown, Obnox, Dabrye). We also made some legend specific tributes for Public Enemy, N.W.A. (edited for FCC quality-control), and The Wu-Tang Clan, which happened to be Omega’s most popular show to date. As long as it isn’t Kanye West or TekashiSixNine, we’re good.

The good news? There’s no sign of up stopping. We’ll continuously re-visit our golden-era finds until they’re depleted, and may even consider re-introducing our white-label bonus shows. And we’ll still play our new, current, and relevant hip-hop, rap, and backpacker finds on our deluxe shows.

Found below is each and every hip-hop / rap broadcast Omega WUSB has broadcast up until this point. We urge you to check them all out. Want to re-visit an era with the most creative freedom? Any artists you missed out on? Trying to find a one-hit wonder you want to make a legend out of? No worries. We have you covered.

Here’s to fifty more years of hip-hop - and you can all thank DJ Kool Herc for that.

December 31, 2012-January 1, 2013; #5. (Double bonus.)

February 25, 2013; #10.

June 30, 2014; #55.

July 19, 2014-July 20, 2014; #56.

August 17, 2014; #59.

November 22, 2014; #68.

July 13, 2015; #87.

August 24, 2015; #91.

June 27, 2016; #114.

August 15, 2016; #120.

February 11, 2017; #132.

July 29, 2017; #142. (Partial.)

July 28, 2018; #168.

September 3, 2018; #173.

October 15, 2018; #177.

December 10, 2018; #183. (Wu-Tang Clan.)

May 4, 2019; #194.

June 29, 2019; #199.

July 20, 2019; #201. (Public Enemy.)

August 19, 2019; #205. (N.W.A.)

August 24, 2019; #206. (Partial.)

March 16, 2020; #223.

August 3, 2020; #236.

August 15, 2020; #237.

October 26, 2020; #245.

January 30, 2021; #254.

April 21, 2021; #260.

May 19, 2021; #264.

June 16, 2021; #268.

July 3, 2021; #271. (Double deluxe.)

August 11, 2021; #278. (Hip-Hop’s 48th.)

January 3, 2022; #294.

January 12, 2022; #295.

April 25, 2022; #305.

May 21, 2022; #307.

June 20, 2022; #312.

August 22, 2022; #325. (Delayed.)

August 27, 2022; #326.

October 24, 2022; #333.

(Originally published on August 11, 2023.)