#also this part runs really long (12 pages) and so it gets to be its own post.

[painted-bees]

>>part i and ii<<

>>part iii, iv, and v<<

vi)

  Rafael was running on fumes.

  In retrospect, driving to and from Vancouver Island on only two distant hours of sleep was probably not the wisest choice he had ever made. But it had been the only choice. At least, that’s what he had felt. When he found her, Magritte was not herself. Her stare was vacant, and her words were vague and distant…he wasn’t even sure that she had recognized him.

  That scared him the most.

  It had taken him every ounce of self restraint not to smother her in a crushing, unending hug, not to kiss every inch of her face until she finally said his name–either in bemusement or irritation, he wouldn’t have cared which. The impulse to overwhelm her back to her senses almost robbed him of his own. But, he had managed. He had gotten her warm, dry, and hydrated and he kept his own shit together all the while. The euphoric relief of finding her–clashed with the disheartening terror of finding her unwell. He couldn’t, for the life of him, find any assurance that she was going to be alright.

  Until, finally, she mentioned something about orcas.

  Raf had been attempting to steal a wink of sleep in the cardeck of the Heriot Bay ferry when Magritte’s voice chimed energetically about having seen orcas. It was hoarse and raspy, yes, but it was her. The broad, open mouthed smile he saw on her face when he opened his eyes–it was her. And then, they had a conversation. A proper conversation. As they did, all the adrenaline that had been keeping him alert and awake slowly evaporated out of his body.

  Margie was okay.

  And he–

  He was so, so…so fucking tired.

  The car ride across Quadra Island had been alright. He kept Magritte awake by telling her about the flooding he saw, how it had even waterlogged the campsite. He told her about calling in the missing person report, and about sheepishly calling again while waiting for the ferry–to inform that he had found her. He told her about the weird, disjointed conversations they had, before she had fully come-to…how it was a lot like the funny little conversations he’d sometimes have with her while she was fast, fast asleep in the middle of the night. 

  In turn, Magritte told him about more of her memories as they came to her. She asked if he knew anything about a kind of orange starfish with thirteen legs. She told him what it felt like to be suddenly whisked away by the tide, and boasted to him about how nonchalanty she had managed to compose herself afterward.

  “I thanked the orcas for showing up, and then I was like ‘please don’t flay me, l-m-a-o’.”

  Apparently, that was the last thing she remembered. 

  The lack of closure provided by the gaps in her recollection didn’t seem to bother Margie much–but it gnawed at Raf. Even if the tide had somehow pushed her back onto shore, Magritte should have been hypothermic. She had been shivering from the cold when he found her, but her body was hot–feverish. Raf couldn’t conjure an explanation in his mind for how she had survived, or how he had found her walking back home. He hoped to get some answers at the hospital.

  When he and Magritte both cited the tidal swell as the cause of Magritte's injuries, the doctor cleaning her wounds seemed dismissive. The same way the lady who had received Raf’s missing person report seemed dismissive. Upon meeting the doctor’s subtle incredulity, both Raf and Margie dropped mention of the tidal event in favour of simply agreeing that she had been swimming irresponsibly and was dragged out by a riptide in the middle of the night. It wasn’t a detail they had planned to abandon together, but operating on the same exhausted wavelength, they simultaneously agreed that vying for the doctor’s belief wasn’t worth the energy. 

  Raf might have been a lot more bothered by the doctor’s impersonal aloofness–if he wasn’t so damn tired. Whether the doctor genuinely cared about Margie’s wellbeing or not didn’t terribly matter. Raf oversaw the man as he worked, confident that the doctor would be less likely to disregard Magritte’s comfort while he was being watched.

  Despite receiving a local anaesthetic that numbed her hands, Magritte kept her head turned away–her eyes wrenched shut–as the doctor flushed saline solution through the gashes carved into her palms and fingers. Raf, on the other hand, took the opportunity to observe the full extent of damage that had been done. The deeper lacerations appeared to have been filled with some manner of black, tarry silt. The saline that went into those wounds came out faintly red at first, and then ran suddenly black and thick with mud. Once the tarry mud had been flushed, the solution flowed deep crimson with blood for a brief while, until it cleared up again–but never as faintly as it had begun. The mud had been…almost scab-like in how it suppressed the bleeding.

  The doctor muttered; more to himself than to his deliberately inattentive patient. “How’d you pack so much dirt into these..? Must have been one hell of a current.”

  Within at least one of the freshly cleaned wounds on her palms, Raf caught a glimpse of white beneath the thick layer of pink and bleeding flesh–bone or cartilage, he couldn’t tell. It bothered him enough, though, that he felt compelled to ask something on Magritte’s behalf. But…

  Raf cleared his throat. “"Pardon, pouvez-vous parler français?"

  Whether it was because he was focused on his task, or because the question struck him as strange, the doctor was slow to answer. “Je peux, pourquoi?” 

  “Au cas où la réponse est mauvaise, je ne veux pas la contrarier.” Raf said, plainly, with an alleviating smile to avoid piquing Magritte’s concern.

  “Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?”

  Performing a lighthearted shrug and a sheepish grin, Raf replied, “Elle est musicienne–pianiste. Est-ce que ses blessures vont affecter son jeu au piano?”

  Raf watched the doctor hesitate before sighing through his nose. Unfortunately, he wasn’t interested in playing along with Raf’s diversionary nonchalantness. “C'est dur à dire. Des dommages aux nerfs sont bien possibles. Ce genre d'abrasions ont tendance à s'infecter.” The doctor then looked at Magritte rather sternly. “You’re going to need to keep your hands clean and–importantly–keep them dry. If you want them to make a full recovery, don’t use them until the stitches come out.” He nodded to Raf. “Make him do everything around the house, doctor’s orders.”

  Raf set his jaw in annoyance.

  Magritte, apparently surprised at being addressed, turned to the doctor with wide eyes. “He already does!”

  Her candid defence disarmed Raf completely, and won a genuine smirk from him. He straightened his back with a small surge of pride.

  “Good, that means you’ll have no excuse the next time I see you.” The doctor stepped back from her, having completed the task of cleaning her abrasions. “Let’s get you stitched up, then.”

  Magritte’s complexion was naturally very pale, and the chill she had caught made her paler yet. Raf hadn’t thought it possible for living flesh to be wholly devoid of colour–but any hue left on Magritte’s face ghosted away as she watched the doctor ready his suturing instruments. Raf could scarcely provide more than a pitying smile. He moved in closer to her, and caressed her hair as a way of distraction. Unfortunately, the tried and true ‘hold my hand and squeeze as hard as you need’ was, well…Her hands wouldn’t be holding anything anytime soon.

  Thankfully, the doctor worked quickly, and Raf had kept Magritte’s mind occupied by talking about ice cream, pretending to forget what her favourite flavours were so that she’d tell him about all of them. Mint chip, cookie dough, and around-the-world chocolate, all absolute bangers, by Magritte’s tastes. 

  “Also,” Raf reminded her, “strawberry rhubarb, no? The homemade stuff sold out the back of that one house on the bay, specifically.”

  “Yeah, but that one’s obscene! It’s so good, it’s not even fair to count it as ice cream!”

  When all was said and done, the hospital sent Magritte home with sutures in both hands, as well as her left elbow, knee, shin, and the underside of her right forearm. Each area was lightly dressed and well wrapped. Raf had received a sizable little goodie bag of gauze, bandages, polysporin, and naproxen, as well as antibiotics for her sore throat and fever. The dazed state he had found Magritte in was, apparently, the symptom of a concussion. Aside from instructing Raf to wake her up every few hours and assess her condition, the doctor seemed to have no real concern about her head. Raf just had to trust him on that.

  Magritte was alive and well…ish. She wasn’t in any danger. Her health had been seen to and confirmed by a medical professional–he had no choice but to trust that she was going to be just fine. Finally liberated from panicked urgency, Raf was left vulnerable to a nearly debilitating fatigue, and it settled upon him like a stone. 

  The same oppressive exhaustion seemed to have burdened Margie, as well. Soon after they had turned out of the hospital parking lot, she fell fast asleep in the passenger seat next to him. He let her. Though he would have appreciated a conversation to keep his own consciousness from drifting, she needed the rest more badly than he did, and a sleepy Magritte never made for very rousing conversation anyways. As a little treat to himself, he picked up a coffee from a drive-through, on the way out of Campbell River. It was a poor replacement for Margie’s adorable chatter but it was certainly better than nothing.  

 The final ferry off of Quadra was, by far, the greatest test of his resolve, and he finally forfeited to sleep during the forty-five minute ride. The PA system had failed to wake him, but the loud diesel engine of the truck parked next to him did the job just fine when it roared to life in preparation of departing. 

  Thankfully, the road from there was as empty and uneventful as the island’s roads always were. At 4:12pm, Raf’s little sedan finally rolled down the long, uneven driveway to the cottage. Parking his car and turning off the engine, he dropped his head back against his seat and let out a long, alleviated sigh.

  Without lifting his head, Raf cast his gaze towards the prodigal goblin passed out beside him. She’d be the ruin of his life; all because she was what made it worth living. Eventually, he’d find his own legs to stand on in that regard. But the events of the past twenty-four hours laid bare to him just how much work yet needed to be done towards that end.

  Be patient with yourself. It’s been…a rough fucking year.

  A rough year, but things were okay. Margie was okay. He was okay.

  “Margie, hun.” Raf reached over to smooth back her hair and gave her neck a gentle rub. “We’re home.”

  “...Already?” Slowly, Magritte sat up and pried her eyes open. Her brow furrowed deeply over a squinted gaze and she looked so…pained.

  “Yeah.” Raf unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door. “Hang on.” He grabbed the bag of medical goodies from the back seat before coming around to Magritte’s side of the car and opening the door for her. 

  All he had to contend with was the fatigue of a sleepless, stressful night–and it had hit him hard on the ride home. Magritte had the night’s fatigue as well, no doubt, but she also had the additional delight of physical trauma. Much like the exhaustion, the pain of being pummelled by Poseidon’s angry fists undoubtedly made itself fully apparent to her as the adrenaline, local anaesthetic, and pain medication waned. It showed in the wary stiffness of her slow, careful movements.

  One of her flip-flop adorned feet emerged from the car, and then another. Raf helped her up, careful to grab hold of her right elbow and not graze the minefield of fresh sutures hidden beneath the loose sleeves of her sweater. She crawled up the porch stairs with little more than a limp, and patiently waited as Raf unlocked the front door. 

  She was sluggish getting up the narrow, steep flight of stairs to the second floor, but otherwise had no trouble making the climb. Somewhat reluctantly, Raf had to stop her from b-lining to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

  “Hold up, hang on. Over here, first.” Hands on her waist, he gently–somewhat playfully–pulled her back and steered her towards the bathroom. She immediately knew what it was about.

  “Y-yeah…okay. S’fair. I gotta destink.”

  “That, and if we want any hope of combing these tangles out, it’s gonna require an entire bottle of conditioner.” As Magritte was in the careful process of removing her sweater, Raf managed to excavate a piece of foliage out of her matted curls before helping her pull the garment over her head. “You’ve got like…a whole cluster of burs stuck in there somehow.”

  For the first time since leaving the hospital, Raf realised the extent of the work ahead of him. Literally everything about preparing for–and taking–a shower required the use of hands. And, unfortunately, Magritte wasn’t the sort to wait on him for something as simple as turning on the faucet. She jumped ahead to carry out the task, and winced through the pain of it.

  “Margie…”

  “Wait, no…what? No…” Her words were drawn out in a whine as she came to Raf’s same realisation. “I don’t want to be treated like a decrepit old lady until my hands are better. It’s probably okay to do like…little stuff, right?”

  “Little stuff, very infrequently, I'm sure is fine” Raf relented. “But you heard the doctor as well as I did.” He removed the shower head from its bracket. “Anyways, let’s try to keep soap and water away from your stitches for now. Sit on the side of the tub, and I’ll wash your hair.”  

  Magritte did as he asked, sitting down and holding her bandaged hands limply between her knees. Raf had to bring the heat of the water up to near scalding before the shuddering from her feverish chills relented. Once the water ran nice and hot, however, she closed her eyes and melted beneath his fingertips as he massaged shampoo into her scalp.

  Getting all the detritus out of her hair was a task and a half. The leaves, twigs, and grass came out easily enough, but the burs required copious amounts of conditioner and patience. Until then, her hair had felt brittle and harsh, like dry hay. Thankfully, the conditioner pulled through in rehydrating her thick, curly locks, imparting it with a tropical coconut scent that was far more pleasant than ‘shoreline rot’. Employing the help of a comb, Raf was able to brush out the burs and tangles with a very gentle hand. 

  It took Raf the better part of an hour to scrub the reek of sea decay off Margie and clear her hair of knots and debris. She seemed even more relieved than he was when he reached for the towel after one last rinse. Equal parts boredom, ache, and sleepiness likely contributed to that. He threw the towel over her soggy nest of hair and tousled it vigorously, knowing he had no more than ten seconds to get her dried off before she felt compelled to get up and leave.

  Sure enough, he’d only just started to pat the towel down her back before she picked herself restlessly up off the side of the tub and began limping eagerly out the bathroom door.

  “You’re not dry yet,” he called fruitlessly after her.

  “I’ll put a towel under my head, don’t worry.” Her answer arrived after she had disappeared into the hall, but Magritte poked her head back into the bathroom again to make a plain request. “Come nap with me.”

  With a sigh, Raf pulled himself to his feet, and grabbed a dry towel off the rack before joining her in the hall. She scurried into the bedroom with haste motivated by feverish chill and, as he watched her, Raf took inventory of the scrapes and bruises he could see discolouring her skin. The ocean had thoroughly battered her…but it returned her to him, alive.

  A burning ember or resentment seared his mood for a brief moment before being smothered by thankfulness–with a conscious and very deliberate effort.

  In the bedroom, Magritte had already begun shimmying under the blankets before Raf reached over to lay the fresh towel neatly over her pillow. At least this way, once her hair was properly dry, she could just shove the towel off the bed and not have to suffer a damp cushion under her head.

  Even with the exciting prospect of comfortable sleep motivating her, Magritte's movements were as restrained as she was capable of making them; cautious not to aggravate her sore muscles, tender bruises, or painful stitches. Still, she winced and let out a whine that dissolved into a self-depreciative little chuckle as she failed to navigate her injuries carefully.

  Raf was too tired to oblige the impulse of asking her to slow down. She wouldn’t have listened to him anyway. Magritte was very intent on nestling into bed, wearing only the bandaged dressings that covered the worst of her lacerations. He couldn’t blame her. As he tucked her underneath the thick, heavy duvet in an automatic gesture of habit, his entire body begged him to join her. He removed his sweater jacket and shirt–and intended to leave his jeans on until he considered what the coarse denim would do if it managed to graze any one of the raw, red scrapes on Magritte’s legs. There were still a number of things he needed to take care of around the house before he passed out for the evening, and so he didn’t plan on napping for very long–but regardless of that, the jeans came off before he crawled into bed.

  He sank into the mattress, beneath the large duvet and next to Magritte. Laying with her back to him, she favoured the left side of her body and rested all her weight onto the right side. Raf reached over to caress her damp, clean locks of hair before leaning over to plant a small kiss just above her ear.

  “You can cuddle me, if you’re brave.” Her eyes were already closed, but a coy smile warmed her face. “I know I’m literally being held together by threads, but I promise I won’t fall apart if you hug me.”

  Raf hesitated for a moment as he considered the logistics, and then answered Magritte by gently, carefully snaking an arm around her waist. As he closed the space between them, he gingerly tucked his knees between hers, mindful of the bandaging on her left leg. Suddenly, he was happy to have shed most of his clothes. Magritte’s body temperature was running so hot, it threatened to cook him.

  She provided a little wiggle as she nestled comfortably into his arms. A content little hum escaped her. “Are you in your own head right now?”

  “Not really. Trying not to be,” Raf replied honestly.

  “Okay. You’re just kinda quiet.”

  “Tired.”

  She turned her head towards him, but couldn’t move enough to meet his gaze. “Are you gonna be alright?”

  “Yeah.” He had already determined that much for himself.

  He buried his nose into her coconut-scented curls and lightly squeezed his arms around her in an appreciatively reassuring gesture. She was the one who had spent the past twenty four hours being violently tossed around by the sea, freezing, narrowly avoiding death, and getting stitched back together again–but naturally, she was concerned to know if he was alright. Because he was being quiet.

  “You know…” He recalled something she had said to him one evening.

  It had been after one of the more difficult days the year had doled out to him and it made him especially despondent and not at all pleasant to sit with. He had received an email from his mother. In it, she had outlined her disappointment for the way he handled the matter of his uncle’s body and funeral. Her wording was–as always–carefully crafted to wring as much guilt and anger out of him as humanly possible. Apparently, choosing to honour his uncle’s wishes–by following the clear instructions written in his will–had done a great deal of emotional harm to his father and his grandmother, both who’d have loved the closure of seeing him one last time. It was, in her words, a betrayal of love and trust that she never imagined him capable of. This, despite the fact that he couldn’t have stopped them from attending the funeral if they had actually cared enough to show up for it. That shitty email had coloured his mood for the rest of the week, but the way his misery affected Margie had been especially clear to him that evening. She had remained quiet in his company, and made herself as small as she could–as though she were being punished by him just feeling his own damn feelings. It had bothered him to the point of asking why she wouldn’t go somewhere else for a while. If shit was so difficult for her, why didn’t she just leave?

 She had looked him squarely in the eyes, with an expression of frustrated conviction so intensely uncharacteristic of her–it seared into his brain.

  Raf sighed into her hair. “When you told me that you’d stick with me ‘through hell or high water’, I thought you were being hyperbolic.”

  “Hah-!” Magritte’s weak, but triumphant laugh was accompanied by a little wiggle. “Joke’s on you, nerd. You’re stuck with me. Absolutely poached.” There was a long pause before her hoarse, groggy voice added one last, conclusive, “...Sucker.” 

  “Mmh.” It was yet another little piece of proof he could add to his growing arsenal of defence against the inevitable cycle of paranoid musings. “You know what’s kinda neat?”

  “...Hm?”

  “I love you a whole heck of a lot.” He replied.

  Or, rather–he thought he replied. In truth, he barely managed to mutter the first three words before sleep took him.

  –

  Raf’s eyes snapped open at the sudden sound of…something very near to his ear; some manner of organic clicking. An owl just outside the window? Or–

  A snore rose up from the source of heat between his arms, followed by the sound of lips smacking quietly. 

  Ah.

  Magritte was not usually a loud sleeper. Unless she was sick, her breath usually emerged as little sighs that purred very lightly in her throat; audible, but by no means disruptive. Her illness, however, was apparent in more than just her snores. The heat that radiated off her body had roasted him while he napped. The stubborn euphoria of being able to hold her close after fearing he’d never have the chance to do so again–struggled to compete with the humid discomfort of sweating flesh and damp bed sheets.

  Still, he hesitated to move. Margie, who had the compulsive tendency to fidget, wiggle, and shift restlessly, had apparently remained perfectly still in his arms. She laid with her back flush against him, her knees and elbows exactly where they had been before he had fallen asleep. Raf figured that once she settled into a position that wasn’t painful, she simply refused to comprise it by moving even an inch. 

  Reluctantly, slowly, he withdrew his legs from between hers, uncoiled his arm from around her waist, and sat up. The chilly air outside of the blankets met him as a relief. The sun had fully set, and the cold glow of the moon outside blended with the warm light from the downstairs kitchen window, dimly lighting his bedroom. He turned his gaze to the digital clock on his nightstand.

  7:08pm.

  He rubbed his face, feeling more awake than he ought to after less than two hours of sleep. Remembering the doctor’s instruction, Raf performed the unconscionable task of waking Magritte up. First, he ran fingers through her hair and, when that failed to stir her, he leaned over to kiss the exposed side of her face.

  Finally, he gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “Margie.”

  She inhaled sharply, curling into herself. As the deep breath turned into a yawn, she began unfurling into a stretch. A quiet whimper of pain escaped her as she abruptly halted the gesture, and Raf winced for her. Curling back into her original position, Margie let out a disgruntled hum. She had no intention of pandering to consciousness.

  “Margie.” Raf’s voice took on an apologetic tone. He got to his feet, sliding off his side of the bed, and rounded to her side. Crouching to be at eye level with her, he smoothed back her hair in gentle but deliberately rousing strokes. “How are you feeling? How’s your head?” 

  “...S’fine.” She didn’t open her eyes.

  “Yeah? Can you look at me?”

  Reluctantly, she obliged him, forcing her eyes open. “No concussion stuff happening.”

  Raf rewarded her with a smile. “How about everything else? How’s the naproxen holding up?” 

  “Oh,” Magritte closed her eyes again and swallowed, “yeah–no, I could use more of that.”

  “Alright.” Raf stood up and looked for his pants. “Are you hungry?”

  “No, no…” 

  “Can I make you some tea?”

  “Okay.”

  “Will you drink it?”

  Magritte lifted her head just enough to look at him as he buttoned his jeans. “What kind of tea?”

  Raf provided a sheepish grin that she couldn’t see as he turned to pick his t-shirt up off the floor. “Neocitran.” 

  As he expected, Margie dropped her head back onto her pillow with a dissatisfied groan. “I guess.” 

  “You’re sweating buckets and you haven’t eaten anything all day.”

  “It tastes like stomach acid.”

  “Yeah, well…electrolytes.” He pulled his shirt on, over his head, and smoothed it down. “Try not to crash too hard, I’ll be back in a few.”

 “...Okay.” But sleep had clearly already won her.

  Standing in the open bedroom doorway, Raf hesitated for a moment before deciding not to pester her further. He exited into the hall and quietly closed the door behind him.

  Downstairs, the little black wood stove–who’s chimney pipe ran through the very centre of the cottage–had burned its wood down to embers. Raf’s first order of business was to stoke it back up into a fire that’d last the night. He opened the front of the stove slowly, careful to avoid receiving a face full of smoke. Using a fire poker, he smoothed out the coals before layering blocks of firewood atop them, as far back as he could manage. He let it burn, leaving the stove door slightly ajar while he turned his attention towards preparing Magritte’s tea.

  In the kitchen, Raf filled an electric kettle with water and plugged it in before rummaging the cupboards for a coffee mug and the box of Neocitran. As he emptied a packet of the medicinal tea powder into the cup, he heard Magritte near him.

  “...Raf.”

  Her voice had been hoarse and raspy since he found her, but just then–the way it seemed to waver, tremble, and barely find purchase in her throat–she sounded like hell.

  “Hun,” Raf furrowed his brow in concern as he turned to look at her, “you should be in–”

  He paused, staring across the empty room behind him. “...Bed.”

  Curiously, he doubled back to look into the living room and towards the stairs. Margie wasn’t there.

  Chalking it up to his imagination, Raf took the opportunity to fully close the front of the wood stove before stepping back into the kitchen. It’d be a while before the water in the kettle started boiling.

  “...Raf.” Her voice, again.

  He paused again, trying to discern where it was coming from.

  “...Raf.”

  His gaze followed the sound of Magritte’s voice, to the left and…out the kitchen window.

  “I’m sorry…Raf.”

  Across the small grassy clearing in front of the porch, at the shadowy edge of the treeline, two large pupils reflected moonlight towards him. The eyes could have belonged to a deer, except the silhouette that broke through the boughs of spruce and cedar trees was distinctly un-deerlike in shape. It stared at him, unblinking, one dark, impossibly long and slender arm lifting a bough over its head, the other arm hanging past its knee. Impossibly long and slender; the entire shape of it.

  “...Raf.” It had Margie’s voice.

  Raf watched it for a moment longer, his expression no different than if he were observing some manner of common wildlife. As the sound of boiling water met his ear, he returned his attention to the task at hand with a long sigh.

  This better not be how I discover I’m schizophrenic. He unplugged the kettle and poured hot water into the mug.

  “...it was….supposed to be…” Margie’s awful sounding voice trailed off before returning to its favourite word again, “...Raf.”

  Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, Raf began to stir the contents of the medicinal drink, watching the powder dissolve. Ages ago, a psychiatrist had once cautioned him to the non-zero chance that he could, eventually, find himself experiencing hallucinations; a lovely piece of genetic inheritance from the grandfather on his mother’s side–a man who had thrown himself into traffic decades before Raf was ever born.  

  With half-lidded disinterest, he watched the last of the powder dissolve away before pulling a second mug out of the overhead cabinet. He poured hot water into this one, too, but elected to forgo the Neocitran in favour of a chamomile tea bag. As he added a small splash of milk and a spoon of honey, the ghostly ill sound of Magritte’s voice continued to beckon him from the yard. The flash of moonlight reflecting off the two large, unblinking eyes still glinted at him in the periphery of his vision. 

  He had to admit, if he did carry a genetic predisposition for something like schizophrenia, the environment was exceptionally ripe for it to finally rear its head. He had just lived through the most stressful twenty-four hours of his life–at the tail end of the most stressful year of his life.

  He measured that thought for a second. Was it as stressful as Juilliard? As stressful as the year prior to Juilliard?

  Perhaps not…but as hellish as those years had been, they didn’t carry nearly as much heartache. Juilliard and the three ring circus shit-show his mother had put him through were stresses that he could wish and plan to escape from. The untimely death of his loved ones, on the other hand–the two unconditional beacons of trust, warmth, and guidance he had grown to depend on–wasn’t something he could claw himself away from. The scars of their absence would be a permanent wound he simply had to live though. His uncle was a permanent wound.

  But Magritte–

  “...Raf.”

  Raf groaned, a touch irritated at having his thoughts interrupted by the not-Margie thing goading him from the side yard.

  Having stirred milk and honey into the chamomile tea, he took the mug up in his hands and carried it out the side door, onto the porch. He walked up to the railing, overlooking the small clearing.

  “Well, if you want your tea, you’re gonna have to come out from under the trees.” His voice was as plain as though he were addressing a neighbour. 

  The long, slender silhouette stood unmoving, its moony gaze unblinking. It said nothing in response.

  “Yeah, alright.” He placed the mug of tea down on the lowest porch step leading into the side yard. “Well, I’m not going out there, so… It’s here if you want it. I’d have appreciated…you know…some confirmation that you’re real. But sure, whatever. This is chill too, I guess.”

  Raf turned back into the cottage, closing and locking the door behind him. If this was a hallucination, then he’d deal with it later. It could wait until Margie got better, until he had gotten a proper time away from the city…until he was good and ready to return. Until then, he’d manage it on his own terms, the way that felt right.

 With chamomile, milk, and honey. >>part vii and viii<<

#Hi-Note #Cortes finally shows up in this one!! #also this part runs really long (12 pages) and so it gets to be its own post. #parts vii and viii will be the final post of this little story tidbid <3 so stay tuned. #I hope you enjoy :D #rafael #magritte #cortes

[tillthelandslide]

Same For You (13) : Take Me Higher

A/n: hi!!! i'm so sorry it took me so long to post this, to those tha saw the unfinished version i accidentally posted, sorry haha. Once again I need to thank @procrastinatinglikeapro for listening to my ideas on this one and helping me always :). I miss you all and hopefully soon can get to a more regular posting schedule. For now, I hope you enjoy (p.s i love this series hehe)

Series Masterlist

(12) June

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Smut. p.s its a long one but trust me its worth it

She's stressed when she arrives at the studio, hands shaking with everything she does. The writing on the page is unsteady, fingers trembling against the strings of the guitar, making the music sound wobbly and flat. She doesn't have the band to fall back on, she can't ask Abbie to record her parts and she most definitely cannot escape the worried looks from the four men. Oh yeah, Jamie was sitting in on the session too. She wanted to impress him, but instead she feels like a mess. It's a nightmare.

George sits at the soundboard, thumb resting under his chin, fingers playing with his lip. He wants to ask if she's okay, but he also doesn't want to put more pressure on her. She sighs deeply, running a hand through her hair before throwing it up into a messy bun.

"Sorry one more time" she says, rolling back her shoulders and adjusting her grip on the guitar when it inevitably slips. Ross’ hand clamps around the arm of the chair, watching her, knowing how she was feeling, wanting to envelope her in his arms and take her worry away. 

It was hard seeing her like this, from the moment they met her there was an indescribable ease that radiated from her, like meeting someone who was already exactly who they were supposed to be. Music came naturally to her and seeing her like this was… unsettling. They all felt sympathy for her, knowing (without her having to mention) that something was seriously wrong. 

"We can take a break Y/n/n" George says, eyes finding hers through the glass as his fingertips press the button that allows her to hear him. Her eyes flick to Jamie's who smiles and nods, agreeing with George.

"No I'm good G, once more I swear" she says and he nods.

Matty’s hand hovers over George’s fingers, they don’t touch but when George sees his eyes flick to his, one look in his eyes and his finger stays put on the button for a moment, broadcasting Matty’s next words into the other room.

“This is it Y/n/n okay? You’ve got this” his words have her easing slightly, shoulders rolling back before she breathes in deeply, eyes shutting before they open again and she smiles, nodding at Matty.

She sees the red button light up, indicating that recording is in progress and her fingers move against the guitar again. She plays the guitar solo flawlessly, but all of the guys notice how her fingers buzz slightly. She finishes and sighs deeply, she still thinks she can do better.

"That was really good Y/n" Jamie says, smiling widely at her, putting his thumbs up, normally she’d tease him for it, call him an old man just to make him laugh, but she doesn’t… even he knows something is up then.

"Perfect" George says, and her eyes find him through the glass again, he knows she's going to ask to record it once more before she does and he speaks before she gets the chance.

"Don't ask to do it again Y/n/n, it was perfect... get outta that head of yours okay?" he asks and she nods with a sigh. George looks at the guys, leaving the microphone on so she can hear him.

"Going to go for a fag okay" he says and she nods mumbling a "be there in a minute, don't wait up" she says, nodding to both Ross and Matty. Jamie follows the man, phoning someone on his way.

Matty thinks about hanging back, but since his conversation with Ross he's apprehensive. It seems that ever since Ross told him to act the same, he’s been doing the opposite, he didn’t know why, but he felt a level of pressure now, although he knows that wasn’t the man's intention. But when Ross' hand finds his shoulder and he smiles, he knows it's okay.

"Hang back okay?" he says and Matty nods. When he enters the room, she's unplugging her guitar, placing it into its case. It's then that he realises she's using the light blue guitar, the first of two her brother had bought for her. 

"You alright love?" he asks, she doesn't speak but nods and he knows she's lying. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at her, she stands from her spot, standing opposite him. She lasts three seconds before she sighs deeply, rolling her eyes and chuckling at him.

"That's not fair" she says, pointing at him. He shrugs and mumbles a "don't know what you're talking about darling" she sighs again. Her hands find her hair, letting it fall down her back from its place in a bun.

She finds it funny how quickly she breaks around him, walls falling down and colliding with his own, destroying them in the process.

"Liv called me this morning, apparently something happened at June's school, some bully pushed him over in the playground and he busted his lip... just shook me up a bit" she explains, hands resting against her forearms, almost to protect herself. She finds it a little ridiculous that she's shaking so much, but she wanted nothing more than to be there with June.

"Hey it's okay" Matty says, stepping forward, hands finding hers against her arms, running along them to calm her. She looks up at him with soft eyes, he smiles softly down at her and some of the tension eases from her.

"Is that what's gotten you so shaken up?" he asks and she nods, he pulls her in then, hugging her tightly.

"And why I'm messing up" she says, he pulls back slightly, shaking his head down at her.

"Don't do that... you're fine, we all get off days" he explains and she sighs.

"Mine had to be on a day when Jamie's here... wanted to impress him" she admits, despite thinking it sounded a little silly.

"He's impressed, trust me" he says, pulling her to his chest again.

"Do you know what's happening with him?" Matty asks and she nods again, mumbling her next words into his chest.

"He's in the emergency room at the moment, waiting to be seen" she explains and he nods.

"Want me to drive you there?" he asks and she shakes her head.

"No it's okay... He'd hate that" she says, laughing at the thought of an angry June. He hated fuss.

"Okay, but he'd forgive you... do you want to be with him?" Matty asks and she nods.

"I do... but it's fine... I'll wait until Liv calls me again" Matty nods and hugs her again. There’s a moment of silence before Matty speaks again. 

"Any reason you're using that guitar" he points to the open case and her eyes fall to it.

"Didn't feel right using the green one today... don't know why, just a feeling" she says and he nods, placing a haste kiss to her forehead before pulling away.

The pair leave the room after that, joining the other men downstairs, both who have finished their cigarettes now, Jamie still on the phone. She smiles at Ross who wraps an arm loosely around her shoulders. George begins talking to Matty but he doesn't really listen, too busy eavesdropping on what Ross says to her.

"Heard anything from Olivia yet?" he asks. Of course he already knew. Matty still appreciates the fact he encouraged him to talk to her. 

"Not yet..." she says. After Matty and her share a fag (mainly to save time) they return to the studio. She records some more for the track, less shaky this time. Half way through her recording some vocals, her phone rings by the sound desk. George pauses the track and speaks through the microphone again.

"Phone's ringing Y/n" he says, she rushes into the connecting room, taking the phone from the drummer's hand. "Girls" is the ringtone and they all smile.

"Sorry... Liv's favourite song" she says making them all chuckle before she's picking up.

"Hi" she answers, before her face is covered with panic. They can hear someone talking quickly on the other side of the phone.

"Okay, okay, okay" she says quickly "Liv! Breathe!" she says and they hear the phone go quiet. Her eyes flick between the guys and she speaks again "I've got an idea but just bare with me okay?". Liv mumbles a "okay" before Y/n removes the phone from her ear to speak to the guys.

"Okay... June's had stitches, but Liv's boss is being a dick and demanding she goes back to work but it's too short notice to get a babysitter and he can't go back to school" she explains and all the guys nod. George is slightly confused, but Jamie the most confused out of all of them for he didn't know who Liv or June was. Y/n and George had briefly spoken about the passing of her brother but hadn't spoken about his son or his girlfriend.

George shares a look with Ross, one in which reads "I'll catch you up later".

"I know it's a right pain in the arse and I understand you saying no... but could he come here for a few hours? Just until Liv can pick him up?" she asks.

"Of course love" Matty says and Ross smiles whilst Jamie nods, he doesn’t know who she’s talking about but he didn’t mind if it helped her out.

"Yeah... no problem at all" Ross says and then George nods too. She brings the phone to her ear again and continues talking to her sister in law.

"Bring him here okay? - Yeah the guys said it's fine... Yeah? I'll send you the address" they hear her say.

"Love, I can take you to pick him up," Matty says, drawing her attention to him. She shakes her head but smiles at him, mouthing a "thank you" as Olivia speaks.

"Okay... see you soon. Love you too" she says. She hangs up then sighs deeply.

"Sorry about that" she says, eyes finding George's then.

"You must be so confused" she says to George and Jamie, both who nod. She proceeds to tell him about June and Olivia whilst Matty and Ross clear up a little, having heard from her that her nephew was a bit of a menace and had already sustained an injury today and didn't need anymore.

20 minutes passes by and her phone buzzes with a text from Olivia, explaining that they were here. She leaves the guy's in the room, each working on something and not wanting to disturb them. She walks down the stairs, leading to outside. She finds them outside, June smiling widely at her and running and jumping into her eyes. He lands with an "omph" from her and it makes him giggle. 

"Careful Junebug, don't get any more injuries whilst I'm gone" Olivia says.

"Mum!" he complains "don't call me that" it makes Y/n laugh, pulling him gently back by his chin to look at his lip. He has a few stitches on his bottom lip and it's a little jutted out, making him look poutier than usual. He also has a small cut on his chin that’s clearly been cleaned but didn’t need stitches. 

"Ooo, look at you" she says and he laughs, pulling back and straightening up as if proud.

“Look cool huh?” he asks and it makes her laugh, eyes flicking to his mum who rolls his eyes.

“It was that Rory kid again” Olivia says, clearly angry at the fact. Rory was a child in June’s class who was a huge dick, he often made stupid jokes about how June didn’t have a dad and truly deserved to be shoved himself. She puts June down, placing a hand on the top of his head to keep his attention on her.

“Better have pushed him back June” she says and Olivia laughs when June’s eyes flash with mischief.

“Oh he did a bit more than that, didn’t you June?” Olivia says, the child's eyes flick up to Y/n and he nods proudly. 

“Punched him” June says matter-of-factly, the tone making her laugh.

“Good on you bud” she says, turning to her sister-in-law. She doesn't doubt that Olivia had to have the mandatory "we don't condone violence but well done for sticking up for yourself" talk which gave her plenty of space to be the proud auntie, congratulating him for giving a mean kid what he deserved. Problematic or not, she didn't care. 

"Thank you so much for this Y/n" Olivia says, pulling her into a brief hug and accepting the bag of his things.

"Happy to help... tell the boss to" she leans forward slightly so only Olivia can hear "fuck off" it makes her laugh. The door opens behind her and she turns, seeing Ross. She smiles at him and he smiles back. She's kind of happy that he'd be the first to meet her nephew.

"Sorry, was just checking you were okay" he says, stepping onto the street. It's very kind, a fact not going unnoticed by Olivia. 

"Ross this is Olivia... Oliva, this is Ross" she says and Ross smiles at her, offering her his hand to shake.

"Lovely to meet you" he says "Nice to meet you, heard a lot about you" Olivia says, making the man raise his eyebrows at Y/n who rolls her eyes at her sister in law. 

Ross' eyes then land on June and Y/n watches as he kneels down to greet the little man.

"You must be June" Ross says, each of the women chuckle when June grips onto Y/n's calf and hides from the man.

"The bassist" his words have the boy coming out from his hiding place, smiling widely at the bearded man.

"Nice to meet you, how about we go upstairs and you can have a go on my bass huh?" he asks and June nods happily, grabbing his hand in that completely uncaring way children did. Y/n stands mouth slightly agape at the sight, heart beating rapidly in her chest. Just when she thought she couldn't find him any more attractive.

"Thank you again" Olivia says, pulling her into a hug again, murmuring a "he's hot" before pulling away.

"I'll call you when I finish work" she says as she opens her car door.

"Junior" she says, drawing the child's attention from the man who he was talking excitedly too.

"Be good for auntie Y/n okay?" he nods before his mum shuts the door and carefully drives off.

"Ready for this bud?" she asks as June takes her hand again, one holding hers, the other holding Ross', he nods and the three of them walk him upstairs to the studio. Jamie meets them at the top of the stairs, introducing himself to the child. Maybe it's because Jamie is a father himself but June isn't shy around him, immediately talking his ear off and allowing him to take him into the studio.

The boy's eyes fill with childlike wonder when he enters the room, clinging to Y/n when he sees two tall men sitting in the room. One with curly hair like his, a guitar resting in his lap and the other tall man sitting behind a drum kit.

"Don't be shy June, they won't hurt you" she says with a laugh, one hand finding the back of his head and giving him a gentle nudge forward. Suddenly, the June she knows springs to life, straightening his shoulders and moving forward confidently.

"I’m Junior, but you can call me June" he announces and it makes her laugh loudly, her head thrown back. Ross smiles at the sight, his heart doing a harsh pitter-patter in his chest and skipping a beat. Matty puts his guitar down and walks up to the boy, leaning down and offering a hand to him.

"Hey mate, I'm Matthew, but you can call me Matty" he says and June accepts his hand, shaking it harshly.

"Matty" he repeats and the man smiles and nods. 

"Some grip you've got there mate" he says, eyes flicking up to her, the both of them smiling widely at each other.

"You've got hair like me" June says happily, flashing a toothy smile at the man, his dimples showing on his cheeks. Matty nods at the boy before he loses interest and walks over to George, staring up at him with his mouth open. Y/n watches with her finger in-between her lips, trying to hold in her laughter.

"I'm June!" he announces again.

"Hey mate, I'm George" he says, shaking his hand too.

"Just George?" June says, cocking his head to the side.

"George Daniel, but you can call me George or G" the man says and everyone begins to smile.

"George Daniel? Aren't they both first names? That's weird" they all laugh loudly at that, George cackling, eyebrows raised at her.

"He's got a point mate" Matty says and she laughs.

"He's cheeky" Ross says and Y/n nods "little Dylan" she says with a smile, June then runs up to them, clinging to her leg again.

"He sounds like Dad" the kid mumbles to her. The guys fall silent then, waiting to see what she says.

"Dylan had a really deep voice just like you G" Y/n says to the guys before she looks at June again. When she met June, Olivia asked for videos of Dylan so June could get to know his dad despite him not being able to meet him. She doesn't quite know what to say.

She's grateful when she feels a large hand rest against her back, before the man is speaking.

"Your dad used to play bass too, right?" Ross says and June nods.

"How about I show you some stuff?" Ross asks and June jumps excitedly, taking Ross' hand and dragging him towards his bass which rests in a stand. She finds Ross' eyes and mouths a "thank you" he just smiles at her. She watches as Ross takes the bass in his hands, playing the bassline to one of their songs, it makes June smile widely, raising his eyebrows at the man.

"Wanna try?" Ross says and the boy nods excitedly. He hadn't been learning for too long (a fact he tells Ross) as the bass was a big guitar and even now looked a little funny resting in the small boy's hands. Despite this Ross teaches him something simple, smiling impressively when he plays it easily.

"He's good, '' he says to Y/n who smiles and nods. Ross tries to teach him something a little more advanced, an original baseline he had written for the song they were recording today and she smiles when June gets frustrated because he can't quite reach the right strings.

It's like watching a splitting image of her brother, when he'd get frustrated at her for not getting things quite right. She walks over to the pair, sitting down opposite June, next to Ross.

"Try this" Ross says, adjusting the boy's hand slightly, this time when he tries his fingers reach the right strings and he cheers happily.

"Hey mate" George says as he joins the group, "that sounds good" June smiles up at him at that.

"Ross taught me it!" That makes her smile widely and she can't help but reach for her phone, snapping a quick picture of the child.

"Wanna record it? Be on your first record?" George suggests and June nods excitedly.

"Alright with you, auntie Y/n?" George says, his tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth, making her laugh and roll her eyes at the man.

"Of course... going to be on your first record at the age of 6 bud" she says. Ross takes the bass from the child and he hugs Y/n tightly. Matty and Y/n set up everything ready for him, plugging in the bass.

"Okay mate, so this is how it works, see this" Matty says, pointing to a little red button to the left of where they stand, the boy nods.

"That will turn red when George clicks record" June nods again.

"And then you'll hear these little clicks in your ear phones" Matty says, nodding to George who clicks play briefly so June can hear what he's talking about. He then pauses the track to allow Matty to continue to explain.

"The metronome" everyone smiles at the boy's words, it also raises a few eyebrows, each of the guys impressed.

"That's right" Matty nods.

"Then you'll hear Y/n's beautiful voice okay?" June nods again and smiles at her. She rolls her eyes at the compliment but smiles at Matty.

"We can count you in and then you can play yeah?" June nods.

"What if I mess up?" June says.

"Don't worry about that mate, auntie Y/n messes up all the time" Matty says making her laugh loudly.

"Unfair" she says, eyes finding him, he sticks his tongue at her and it makes the child smile and laugh.

"Ready bud?" she asks and he nods. She shuffles back, allowing Matty to take over, the man counting the child in when needed. She watches proudly as he smashes it, getting the short baseline right on the first go. Ross steps in to take the bass from him and watches as the child pounces on Y/n excitedly, knocking her from her crouched position.

She cushions the child's fall with two hands on his back as he hugs her tightly. She laughs loudly and everyone smiles fondly at the sight.

"Smashed it kid!" she says, nuzzling her face into his neck and embarrassing him.

George does a quick edit of the new recording and then plays the track out loud. June sits up suddenly, clutching her hand tightly.

"You did that bud" George says through the microphone.

"Rockstar" Matty says, making him smile widely again.

By the end of the day, June is well and truly tired: having had a go on the drum kit (accompanied by George and making a load of racket), taught a simple guitar riff by Matty (after they spoke about their curly hair together, something y/n found ridiculously adorable) and having played Ross' bass again (crawling into the man's lap and working with him to reach the right strings, something yn snapped a few pictures of, immediately sending them to Olivia).

Now he's asleep in Y/n's arms on a sofa in the studio, with an inflated ego (having received a multitude of compliments by the bandmates), indented fingers and a happy smile resting on his busted lips.

"You're really good with him" Jamie says, sitting opposite her. The guys are working on this and that whilst laughing together.

"Thanks" she says, smiling down at the child as she smooths a hand through his curls.

"How old is he?"

"6"

"Ooo rough age that" Jamie says, making her laugh.

"Matty told me about your brother... Sorry to hear it" Jamie says.

"It's okay... been a while"

"6 years I'm guessing" Jamie says and she nods with a smile, eyes back on her nephew.

"You're really close with him huh?"

"Only known him for 4 years... but he's the most important person in my life" she says, eyes moving upwards and finding the boys. They were all sat at the sound desk, Matty's legs resting below the various buttons, arms hooked over his knees as he laughed with his head thrown back. George had a hand hooked behind his shoulders, laughing that bizarre cackling laugh he did that instantly made her smile. And Ross, sat next to Matty, eyes crinkled as he smiled widely, dimples showing and eyes sparkling, Ross’ chesty chuckle ringing around the room.

"One of the most important people" she corrects and Jamie looks behind them, where she's looking and smiles widely.

"They really care about you, you know" Jamie says and she nods.

"I know..."

"Think they would've been heartbroken if you guys hadn't signed the contract" he admits and she chuckles.

"Was always going to sign the contract Jamie" she admits and he nods.

"I know..." he pauses but she knows he has more to say, he hesitates but then speaks again "just want to make sure you're doing it for the right reasons" she knows what he's suggesting. That she was doing it because of them. She couldn't deny they nudged her in the right direction, made the decision an easier one, but it was always going to be the right thing to do. The offer was too good to refuse.

"I've wanted this since I was 6 Jamie... And we had plenty of opportunities but they were never... right? This feels right" she explains and he nods slowly.

"But does it feel right because of them?" he asks; it was a fair question. But she knew the answer. Her eyes find them again anyway and she smiles.

"It feels right because this is the first time we have worked with people who haven't shut down our ideas the first chance they get. It feels right because Abbie and Matty work well together, because Clara and Ross come up with dope basslines and because for the first time ever Jay doesn't fight against others' ideas, he rolls with them. It feels right because we've met people who are just like us, with a creative vision that they nourish instead of stomping out and a label who supports that. So yes it feels right because of them, but not just because of them" she explains and Jamie nods and smiles.

"Good" he says, reaching for her hand and squeezing gently before leaving her. Her phone begins to ring and the boy in her lap stirs gently, but not enough to wake up. She answers quietly.

"Hi" she says in a hushed voice.

"I'm downstairs"

"Okay... June's asleep..." she says.

"You got him?"

"yeah I've got him, be down in a second" she hangs up, hand drifting through the child's hair again.

"June my love... gotta wake up bud, Mum's here" she says and the child groans, stirring in her lap and nuzzling his head into her hand.

"Everything okay?" she hears, her eyes snap up and she sees Ross smiling down at her.

"Yeah just a stubborn child" she says, chuckling and attempting to wake the child again. When he doesn't wake she stands unsteadily, the child heavy in her arms. She begins walking with him but struggles.

"Can I?" Ross asks, gesturing to the child in her arms. She trusts him with her life and the offer is so sweet it has her stomach dipping and soaring. She nods with a smile and allows the man to carry the child, the two of them walking down the stairs. Matty watches him and smiles when their eyes meet.

"Hi!" Olivia says when she sees the pair, practically fawning over the man that's carrying her child.

"Thank you Ross, that's really sweet" she says, opening the back door of her car and allowing the man to slide him into the back seat carefully.

"No trouble" he says, smiling down at her.

"How was he?" Olivia directs her question to Y/n who smiles widely.

"He was an angel" Olivia raises her eyebrows at that.

"He played the bass with Ross and even recorded a bit for a track" she says, Olivia smiling at that.

"Oh that's amazing, thank you squish" Ross smirks at the name, reminding himself to ask about it later. "Forever going to be the best auntie, he's never going to shut up about his rock star aunt at school now. Thank you again... all of you" she says, directing the last of her words to Ross.

"Our pleasure truly... He's welcome anytime" it makes Y/n smile widely and Ross smile back at her. She knows Olivia is going to ask something a bit personal before she does but she doesn't have the chance to intercept it before it happens.

"Do you have kids Ross?" she knows he doesn't, Y/n had told her basically everything there was to know about the man. In fact, she was one of the only people that knew how confusing her thoughts about him and his friend were.

"No" he chuckles "my brother has a son... he means the world to me to be honest" he admits and it makes Y/n smile again.

"That's really sweet" Olivia says, eyes landing on Y/n and she smirks and raises her eyebrows again.

"Anyway... we should be going" Olivia says "thanks again", she steps forward, wrapping her sister-in-law in a tight hug.

"If you don't fuck that man I will kill you" she murmurs into her ear. Ross catches the gist of the words and it makes him smirk, turning his head so as to not look like he heard on purpose.

"You're so annoying" she murmurs back before pulling away, Y/n hands her June's bag and she then enters the car, stopping once she's nearly inside.

"Seriously do it, it will be good for you" Olivia says.

"Goodbye Olivia!" she says, rolling her eyes and shutting the woman's door. Y/n then turns to Ross, as Olivia begins driving off.

"Sorry about that" she says, awkwardly running a hand through her hair, hoping he didn't hear her words.

"Thank you for today... you were really good with him" she says, stepping forward slightly so they were closer.

"You're welcome... he's a good kid" Ross says, pulling her closer, hands closing around her waist. Someone drives past and beeps at them, Ross pulls away and takes her hand, taking them round the corner of the building for some more privacy. He pulls her towards him then, his back finding the wall of the building as he holds her flush to him.

"Care to explain what squish is?" he asks, one hand hooking under her chin, gently holding her face in his soft grasp.

"You caught that huh?" she chuckles and he nods. She laughs and rolls her eyes at the thought of having to explain this just because of Olivia.

"Promise not to take the piss out of me?" she asks, hands finding his chest, flattening against the covered flesh, smoothing against it and smiling at the sight.

"Me? Never" he says and it makes her laugh again.

"When I was younger... whenever people said things I didn't like, didn't agree with or things that made me uncomfortable, I would try to hide my opinion but without knowing it I would squish my face up... I showed videos of Dyl and I to June so he'd know his dad a little more y’know… Olivia has been calling me that ever since" she explains and Ross smiles.

"Well now I've just got to see that" he says, pushing forward slightly, nudging her body with his a little.

"Never" she says.

"Please" he begs, she shakes her head. He pulls her tighter towards him, nuzzling into her neck and mumbling another "please", drawing a "no" from her.

"I can be really persuasive" he mumbles into her ear before his lips find her neck, lightly moving against the skin. Her eyes flutter shut at the feeling and she sighs.

"Please" he mumbles against the skin, leaving a simple peck there before pulling back. She supposes it's because she knows he may reward her if she does it so her nose scrunches up, her eyes squint and her lips purse.

"That's simply adorable" he says, a jokey tone to his voice before he places a peck to her scrunched up nose. Her face falls back to normal and she shoves him lightly. He copies her previous face, scrunching his nose, lightly mocking her.

"You're mean" she says, hands pressing against his chest, sending him backwards against the wall again.

"And you're adorable" he says, leaning forward before he dips to the left, nuzzling back into her neck making her giggle, hands finding the back of his head, attempting to pull him away from her. Her hands grasp his bun, lightly tugging at it, he moves with it, pulling back from her neck, smiling down at her.

"Careful squish... might have to listen to Olivia if you do that again" he jokes but his words let her know that he did indeed hear her sister-in-law’s words earlier.

"Don't get cocky now MacDonald '' she raises with a huge smile. They fall silent for a second before her eyes flick to his mouth. It's a comfortable silence, undeniably sweet.

"You made his day today... thank you again" she says and he smiles down at her again, hands finding her chin again.

"It was nice... made me miss the little man though" he admits, referring to his own nephew.

"When do you get to see him again?" she asks.

"I'll arrange to visit them soon" she nods at that.

"Could come with me if you'd like... if you're not busy of course" he suggests and she nods.

"I'd love that" she doesn't think that it's perhaps too early for them, that it would be hard to explain to his brother what they were when they were asked, she didn't even think that she'd likely have to come up with an excuse as to why she wasn't available. She just agreed.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah" he smiles down at her, liking her answer.

"Besides" she says, tugging him forward slightly until their lips graze "you with kids? Hot." she admits making him smirk.

"Oh really?" he says with a raised eyebrow.

"Very" she says before pulling him the rest of the way, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. 

Meanwhile in the studio, Matty is tidying up the space, putting things back into their original places. But when he goes to walk across the room, his foot hits something, kicking it slightly further across the floor. His eyes flick down, spotting the black notebook in which he's seen her scribble in a fair amount now. He leans down, grabbing the book and raising it up, but something slips from between the pages, landing folded at the tip of his boots.

He should've picked it up carefully, and gently placed it back in-between the pages. But Matty was just a man, a curious one who often did things against his better judgement. Things he knew would likely cause him more trouble than they’re worth.

But not this, not when he unfolds the paper, and reads the first line and knows this is definitely worth it. It’s a song scribbled out onto the page, the ink spills across the paper, the words almost completely linked, as if it was pouring out from her and she couldn't stop it. The title is directly in the middle, written untidily at the top of the page.

“Take Me Higher” it reads. A complete contrast to all the other writing of hers he’d ever seen. 

Let our passions ignite, bodies tangled in the night

Don't lie, don't deny, I set your souls alight

"Souls" he murmurs to himself, hearing George mutter a "hmm?" To which he quickly rushes out a "nothing don't worry" before he continues reading.

You're the fire, dark desire, come on now, feed the fire

Heat rising, bodies colliding, dripping sweat, tastes like sex

Rhythm pounding, hearts racing, together we're finding what's next

Matty feels his heartrate pick up, his chest constricts just slightly, the air expelled from his lungs in a sharp exhale, one which comes out shaky and broken. He reads over the last two lines of the verse “heat rising, bodies colliding, dripping sweat tastes like sex”. Images flash through his brain, all of her in compromising positions, her beautiful body lathered in sweat, glistening under the dark light of his room. He feels his body heat, cheeks flushing as his eyes darken. “Rhythm pounding, hearts racing, together we’re finding what’s next” he reads the line again, mind plagued with thoughts he shouldn’t be having. Like her lips wrapped around him, or pressed against his own, or him, in between her thighs, driving into her until all he knew was her name and all she knew was his. 

Her back is the one pressed against the concrete now, thighs spread, one leg hitched up, resting against his hip as his lips move quickly against hers, tongues fighting, saliva mixing until they don't know where one begins and where the other ends. She feels slightly exposed, the skirt she’s wearing hitching upwards the longer she holds her thigh up over his hip. The cool air meets her clothed core, her panties visibly soaked. Resisting him this long had been a difficult feat, but this, right now, was harder than any of those days combined. This is reckless though, she had been trying her hardest to hide this, but all it would take is for one of the others to come out and they'd be caught. Maybe it added to the thrill of it? Maybe it would be easier if they were caught?

Her back arches as he pushes forward more, she feels him against her core, hard and desperate. He pulls away when he realises what he’s done, not wanting to push her too far. But with a sigh she grabs his shoulder, hand drifting down his chest, down across his stomach, beginning to dip down until he’s breathless, curving back up at the last minute, landing on his hip.

“Tease” he mumbles against her lips making her chuckle against his mouth. 

“I'll show you a tease” she murmurs, teeth closing around his bottom lip and taking it with her as she pulls away a little, the hand against his hip pulls slightly, until his clothed member collides with her clothed core. She releases his lip from the attack of her teeth, letting it snap back to place before he pushes them back to hers, tongue pressing eagerly against hers. He grunts into her mouth, one large hand finding her thigh, his palm squeezes the flesh and her skirt slips slightly, revealing more skin to him. He rolls his hips forward experimentally.

“Fuck” they say in unison. This was the furthest they had gone, it wasn't much, but my oh my it was euphoric. 

Matty reads the words “touches” what seems like a thousand times, plural. His mind spirals at that, what was this about? Who was this about? He looks around the room, George sat with a pair of headphones on and of course Jamie is nowhere to be seen. Surprise surprise he thinks. He slides from the room then, escaping to the bathroom. He perches on the lid of the toilet, hand placed on his thigh, nails digging in when he reads the next words.

Now we're touching the sky

We are ready to fly

Take me higher, we'll soar and defy

I got the feeling that we're gonna -

He feels his blood rush south, imagining the way she’d sing this, voice breathy and high pitched, hitched in her throat as if she was about to… he imagines her again, sweaty body sprawled out on his bed, thrashing about amongst his bed sheets, back arching off his bed. She’d moan, a breathless sound, something akin to his name. His cock twitches under his jeans and his hand finds his hair, tugging harshly, other hand gripping the piece of paper so harshly it crinkles. He tries his hardest to resist the urge to please himself… tries. 

“Fuck” he says, what would it feel like if she tugged his hair? That image of her arching her back flashes through his mind again. Only this time he’s hovering above her. His hand moves back down from his hair, he shouldn’t - he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help himself. His palm finds his aching member, pressing flat against the hardness, eyes fluttering shut as he imagines driving into her. The way she’d sigh, the way she’d moan his name, begging for more. 

Hit that level, strum that bass, flick that switch

Let's get sinful, baby, let me be your demon's itch

Craving your touches until we unleash hot rock and roll

“Ross” she says, hands moving from his back to his bun, tugging at the hair until he growls into her mouth. Well he definitely liked that, she thinks. His hips move against hers, rolling forward, hitting her clit with every rotation. 

He pulls back for a breather, eyes snapping south, accompanied by hers. He watches as he rolls his hips forward again. He sees his member bulging and straining against his jeans. Her eyes snap to the same thing he’s looking at, although it affects her much more. She caused that. Her, the one who had been shaky all day, messing up things that were supposed to be second nature to her. She did that to him, the man she had idolised since a teenager, loving the way his quiet nature fascinated her, the way his passion for music shone without him having to thrust it into people’s faces.

The man who belonged to her favourite band, the man who she had grown close to, the man she had begun to picture a life with, before hers had really begun.

She also can't help but notice how well endowed he was. She’s not surprised, the sight only confirming her suspicions, but it has one too many dirty thoughts bedevilling her mind, like how he’d feel inside her, how he’d likely reach places inside her that no one had ventured to before. She knew then, that she'd let him, and only him, paint those places with his cum.

He hears her moan his name again and his eyes snap to find hers again. Mouth falling open as he grunts, seeing her like this - back arching, chest pushed against his and she moans, eyes dark like the night - made him crazy.

He leans forward, lips finding her neck, kissing up to her ear, sucking the flesh behind her lobe. 

“Let me please you” he demands into her ear.

“You are” she says, pulling him back from her neck, not wanting him to leave a mark. He shakes his head as he looks at her. 

“That's not what I mean,” he says, lips pressed against the skin that's exposed at her chest, wandering downwards, over her covered skin, drifting south. 

“Oh fuck” she says, realising what he means. He's on his knees then, lips pressing against her skin, moving to the left until they’re grazing her inner thigh. Her head falls back against the wall as her hands weave their way through his hair, goosebumps rising across her flesh. 

We'll ride on passion's wave and lose all control

In your eyes, I discover lust burning inside

Matty’s hand dips below the waistband of his jeans and underwear, rolling his palm against his cock. 

“Fuck” he grunts, he hunches slightly, slipping down the toilet a little. When his head snaps backwards it lands against the china, it digs into his head but he truly doesn't care. Nothing could get her off his mind, the lyrics she had written plaguing his mind with dirty, filthy, devilish thoughts. He imagines the way her small hand would wrap around his cock, he copies the movements, hand finding himself aching and hard, his fist encloses around himself. Her hand would be softer. He'd still be warm in her hand just like he is his own, but he knows it would be better, because it was her. He gives himself an experimental stroke as his eyes snap open, finding her words and reading them again.

“Fucking hell” he says as his eyes scan over the page, his hand moves slowly, up and down, up and down. His eyes mirror the movement of his hand, but quicker, trying to decide which line to reread, which line is his favourite, which line would make him…

He moans, thumb running over the head of his cock, spreading the precum that's seeping from him down his shaft. His eyes land on a particular line again, and he mumbles it out loud, wanting to hear how it would sound, not in his head. 

"In your eyes, I discover lust burning inside" he reads out loud, doing his best to keep quiet. But then a moan is tearing from his throat and his hips are snapping up, thrusting into his own hand.

Explode like dynamite, carnal desire can't be denied

In this darkness, we'll do what we want, our secrets we won't hide

"Ross wait" she says, fingers finding his chin, tugging lightly at him sending him backwards, feeling the way his hair scratched her fingertips, making her think of heavenly it would feel in-between her thighs.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks with a rogue kiss to her inner thigh, tongue peeking out just so before he pulls away with a smirk. Her dark orbs find his: reflections of each other. She shakes her head with her mouth agape, the way he smirks has her core fluttering and her pulling her lip between her teeth.

He stands, fingertips pulling back her lip "don't bite that lip" he warns.

"Why? Wanna do it for me?" He grunts, pushing his mouth to hers, nibbling her lips before his tongue finds hers, fighting with each other, his winning in the end. 

"Do you want this?" He asks against her mouth, his voice is soft, letting her know that it truly was okay to stop, if she wanted. His hand finds her core as he poses the question, stroking against the wet fabric of her underwear, making her sigh against his mouth.

"I want this… just not here"   she allows him to weave his hand through hers, dragging her body with his willingly, giggles and laughter falling from them easily as they practically run back up the stairs. Her palm finds his mouth when they are near the top, silencing the laughter coming from him. His hand finds her waist, tugging her towards him, spinning them at the last instant until he's pressing her against the wall, trapping her against it with his lips. She moans into his mouth, her body working on its own accord, arching her back until her chest is flush against his. It was reckless, all it took for them to get caught was Jamie to come back from wherever he had disappeared to or for Matty or George to round the corner and see them in their current position. Which was getting more compromising with every second, because now, Ross is pushing his leg forward, her thighs separating and making way for the limb. She holds back the moan that attempts to tear from her throat when she feels the muscular flesh press against her in a way so heavenly her eyes flutter and the moan slips from her mouth into his.

“As much as I love those pretty little noises, you've got to be quiet” he says against her mouth. She gently shoves his shoulder, intertwining their hands again and pulling him further along the studio corridor, opening the first door she finds. The room is small, cold and dark, various cables and different pieces of equipment are placed on shelves which line the walls. She tugs him in the dark room and he quietly closes the door behind them, spinning them again until her back is pressed against the dark wood. 

His lips bruise themselves against her neck as her hands weave into his hair again, and she doesn’t stop herself from tugging at his hair time, she wants to know his reaction. And she's so glad she does, because when she tugs the strands, it sends him a little further away from her neck, he growls as he pushes forward again. That singular noise accompanied by a subtle bite of her neck has her raising her leg again, hooking it over his hip and behind him, her heel landing on his behind and pushing against it, loving the way he grunts again, one hand sprawling out to catch himself against the door. It forces his clothed member to rub against hers again and she loves how he isn't hesitant when he rolls his hips forward once more. The seam of his jeans rubs against her clit over her panties and she can't help but moan into his mouth, a little bit louder than before. 

His hand finds her thigh, pushing against the fabric that sits bunched there, pushing it further up until it rests against her hips, revealing herself to him. And what a sight, it has him salivating, panting, needing her - desperately needing her. But this wasn't about him, no this was about her. And god when he sees that little wet patch seeping through the fabric of her panties he so desperately wants to taste her. 

His lips find her ear at the same time his hand moves down to her centre, pausing at her inner thigh until he speaks “let me please you love, will you let me do that?” he murmurs into her ear, taking it into his mouth after he utters the sentence. She nods vigorously, his hand begins moving and she wishes he’d stop staring at her like that for she knew if he continued she wouldn't last long.

Her eyes fall down to his hand as it moves again, he watches too, slowly inching closer to where she needs him. She didn't want to miss a single second of this. His hand drifts across her thighs, upwards grazing against her core before he jumps over it with a smirk. Purposefully missing it and landing on her lower stomach. His large hand lays flat against her abdomen, practically covering the whole of it, slipping under the hem of her top. Two fingers find the little piece of jewellery attached to her belly button, ghosting over the metal before it disappears again, inching south, back to where she needs him. 

"You're such a tease" she says, making him look at her once more. He watches the way she bites her lip again and the way her eyes have darkened with lust for him.

"You're so beautiful" he says as his hand moves down again, fingers hooking under the top of her underwear and her breath hitches again. Two fingers toy with her folds making her sigh, pulling him forward until their mouths graze again. They don't kiss though, she simply pants into his open mouth as his fingers tease her, playing with her, searching her face, watching the pleasure appear.

"So wet for me" she swallows his words with her lips as he easily finds her clit, beginning to rub slow torturous circles against the bundle of nerves. Her back arches, her tits smearing against his chest. 

"Fuck Ross" he pulls away after she says it, mouth hanging open as his fingers still.

"Why'd you stop?" She says but then he's slowly inching a finger inside her, making her sigh, the loud moans she's been trying to suppress getting harder and harder to do so.

"I've been waiting to hear you like this for so long" he groans as he kisses her again. His moans fall into her mouth and she moans back, knowing he'd swallow it. His finger slips from inside with a whiny protest from her, but she immediately shuts up when he begins tugging the lace down. She watches the way he pockets the fabric with a smirk, she mirrors his expression, her tongue peeking out of her mouth and swiping against his bottom lip. 

He looks down at her again, without the barrier and he moans her name, pulling back completely away from her, her thigh nearly falling from his hip. His hands weave into his hair as he stares at her, eyes raking down her form, not knowing what to land on. 

“I knew you’d be perfect but jesus christ Y/n…” his words trail off but they're everything, the best collection of words she thinks she’s ever heard. Suddenly the words, I and knew and you and be and perfect and especially Y/n are her favourite sounds. And the way they fall effortlessly from his lips: they’re perfection. He is perfection. 

“Don’t make me wait any longer” he’s back in between her legs in a split second then, holding her thigh against his hip harshly. 

He mumbles a “keep that there, pretty girl” before he lets go of the flesh. Pretty girl. They were her favourite words now, definitely. 

His finger moves back down, faster than ever before, he slides one in, just one, feeling the way she convulses around it. He swears at the feeling, eyes trained on the way she takes it, so perfectly. She sighs and it's his favourite sound. He thinks he should record the noise, hide it in tracks for the world to hear, without the slightest inclination of how lucky they are. He pulls back his finger before pushing back in and curving and oh my it's heavenly.

"Ross" she moans again, gripping his shoulder harshly "more" her eyes find his and his hips move forward on their own. His body fails with a singular sigh of his name, the man never hearing it sound so perfect. Another finger joins the other, working in tandem.

His eyes fall down to see his fingers working inside her, curving slightly and snapping up to see her reaction. Nothing could've prepared him for it, a clench of her hand on his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut before immediately snapping open, eyes bearing into his, glassy and glistening. Her back arches again and a pretty sigh of his name falls from her lips again. 

But what really gets him, what causes him to twitch in his jeans, his eyes to darken impossibly more and him feeling the hardest he had ever been in his life, was the way she clenches around his fingers. 

"Look at you…" he murmurs, eyes unwavering from her cunt now. "So fucking pretty, clenching around my fingers like that" her eyes fall to see what he's talking about, and she can't deny… it's hot. The way his thick fingers move in and out of her, the way her cunt looks wrapped around them and the sounds… the sounds might just be his favourite, that and the way she moans his name.

“Is this good for you?” he asks with a smirk, knowing the answer anyway. It's cocky, but it's hot. Really fucking hot. All she can manage is a quick nod, her mouth falling open and a moan beginning to slip. He quickly catches it with his mouth, not wanting to be heard by anyone else. 

“Rhythm pounding, hearts racing, together we're finding what's next” Matty reads those words again, and he’s unsure whether it is his imagination or whether he actually hears her moans, but he swears he hears them. His hand halts on his cock, and he steadies his breathing, focusing his attention on listening. It rings out again, barely there and oh so quiet but it’s something. His hips fail him again, rising on their own accord until his thrusting into his hand, once and then once more before he wills himself to stop again. 

And to focus… to listen.

Ross’s fingers curve again as his thumb finds her clit, applying euphoric figures of eight against the bundle of nerves. His pace accelerates and she really tries to hide the moans, hide her pleasure, but she fails… Miserably. Her back arches again and he fails to cover her mouth with his this time. He thinks the noise she lets out is beautiful, his new-found favourite melody, but he knew if they got caught they’d be screwed. And so his unoccupied hand snaps to her mouth. She giggles against it, a moan tearing from her half way through, muffled by his mouth.

“Shhhh” he says, laughing because she laughs. “You’ve got to be quiet love… we don't want to get caught” despite his words his movements don't falter. His hand loosens from her mouth, allowing her to reply. But it comes out high pitched, a mumble through her teeth, trying her hardest to remain quiet. 

“Stop being so good at this and maybe I’ll be able to” she says, eyes fluttering as her voice hitches again. Her words inflate his ego and he smears his mouth to hers, meeting her tongue with such an unfathomable force that her head clatters against the wood. He mumbles a “sorry” into her mouth but she doesn’t seem to care, clenching around his fingers again as her tongue fights against him.

Matty sits in the bathroom next to them, hearing little noises here and there, not able to stop his imagination from running wild, allowing his hand to set an unforgiving pace against his cock. He muffles his own moans with his fist, biting into the knuckles to silence himself. He knew this was wrong, getting off to her noises well aware that it was his best friend drawing those pretty noises from her. He feels conflicted when he doesn't feel jealous… it just turns him on further. Making his hips stutter upwards, pistoning up into his hand.

“Fuck” he moans. He wonders what it would be like to be there with them, he swears he'd deal with just being able to watch, if they’d let him. He wonders if Ross would let him touch her too, if he’d allow him to join in. He thinks… he would. If it's what she wanted. 

His pace quickens, the sound of skin colliding against his hardness filling the room. The paper has been discarded to the side, still in his line of vision and when he manages to keep his eyes open, they never leave it. He lowers his fist away from his hand for a second, opening his mouth and letting his spit fall, coating his cock just like he'd imagine she would. The sounds are wetter now and it feels better, so much better. 

It feels like she'd feel, wet around him, clenching him, ready to milk him for all his worth. He tightens his grip, hoping she'd be just as tight.  

“I want to taste you” Ross murmurs into her mouth, catching the oncoming moans with his own again. He wants to taste her, she loves that. “I need to taste you” he repeats. She loves that even more. She pulls away, lip tucked in between her teeth as she stares at him.

“Want that?” she nods, vigorously.

“You’ve got to stay quiet darling” he says and she nods again.

“I will” she won't. 

Her head falls slack against the door with a thump as he drifts down to his knees, he looks up at her through his eyelashes and if that didn’t do it for her there would be something seriously wrong with her.

“Careful sweetheart” sweetheart, she sighs. She giggles a school girlish noise that slips from her lips before she has the chance to stop it when she sees him smirk again. She was never one for pet names, but when they came from his mouth, she loved them. She was obsessed with them, never wanting him to say her name again, only sweetheart and darling and pretty girl.

He fucks up into his hand, continuing to bite into the flesh, although it doesn't silence his grunts as much as he wants it too. He grunts when hears a thud against the wall next to him. What were they up to? He didn't know. But he could imagine. And by god did he imagine.

He settles himself in between her thighs, one hand gripping the back of her calf, drifting up and down once as his eyes land on hers again, wanting to check once more that this was what she wanted. With a singular nod his tongue meets her skin, separating her folds, causing her back to arch again. Her hand snaps to her mouth, covering it completely, the moans falling freely into her palm, dulled out as she bites into the flesh. 

Her other hand falls into his hair and she smiles against her palm as his hand finds hers, manoeuvring it until his hair band is out and she can tug against the free strands. His fingers cover hers and he tenses them together, silently letting her know she could do what she wants.

So she does, tugging harshly and likely hurting him when his tongue swipes through her folds again. He moans into her and she moans into her hand. His beard scratches against her skin, a new feeling to her, but she likes it. The dull pain mixed with intense pleasure is a blissfully heady mixture that she’d never experienced before, her previous partners being subpar in comparison to him. 

He pulls back briefly to mutter a “taste so good love” before he dives back in, swiping through her folds and collecting her juices just to quench his thirst before he focuses on really giving her the pleasure she deserves.

He finds her clit again, sucking the bud and making her clench around his head. He couldn’t wait to do this without her hand swallowing her moans, to really hear her, hear the noises he was easily pulling from her. 

“Oh fuck that’s good” she says, hand slipping from her mouth momentarily before its back there again. He can do better, he knows it and she does too when he smirks up at her, fingers finding her puckered hole again. Two easily thrust in and he loves the way she instantly flutters around them, the pace he sets is unforgiving and it's not long until she’s on the edge. 

She pulls away slightly when he sucks at her clit again, tongue swiping through her folds in the next moment. His fingers leave her to grip her hips, holding him to his mouth but she doesn't care, because it's not long until they’re pushing back in. He has her reaching a high she knows she's never reached before. Safe to say he’s ruined her for anyone else, not that was even an option now. She had him now and was never, ever letting him go. 

His fingers curve, finding her g-spot and the way he caresses it, it has her shaking beneath him. The way his tongue moves against her is possessive and when she feels his tongue moving, in a very particular way that sure feels like his name, her eyes fall to him.

He's already looking up at her, and her hand falls from her mouth but it still hangs open. She’s his, he’s marking her from within, she’d feel him for days, she was convinced of it and the thought was a welcomed one.

Her mouth falls open and no noise comes from her but she spasms and shakes as his fingers pull from her before pushing back in and curving and hitting her g spot again and again, over and over.

“Fuck ross” she says, although her words are barely formed and end up sounding much more like nonsense.  Her fingertips envelope his chin, thumb smoothing over his beard, coated in her wetness. It's a sinful sight, one which a cold shower or two would definitely not fix. Her mouth falls open further and her back arches again. His fingers hook one last time, mouth completely closing round her clit and she breaks. She shakes and he sees her through it, fingers held inside her, caressing the bundle of nerves within her, as he kitten licks at her clit, finally pushing fully against the whole of her as she cums. 

“Ross” she moans, a quiet murmur of his name that might be his favourite yet. Accompanied by a shake of her body and the closing of her thighs. 

Her hand is still holding his chin gently and when the sensation becomes too much she lightly tugs against it. He obeys, pulling from her and licking his lips clean. She watches as he brings his fingers to his mouth too, cleaning them off with a smirk. Her hand grips his chin. It's her new favourite site.

“You’re good at that” her head falls against the door and she sighs, smiling to herself “really fucking good” her hand slips from his chin. He chuckles at her, standing from her thighs, hand enclosing around her waist. He wanted to kiss her but wasn’t sure she’d like that. But then she's pulling him to her, lips finding his, tongue finding his. He tastes like her and she moans, it's erotic but he loves it.

Her fingertips find his chin again as she pulls back, looking at his beard which was still slightly glistening with her, she chuckles at the site. 

“Made a bit of a mess” she laughs and he smiles. 

“Good” he murmurs, pressing his lips to hers again, a brief kiss. 

“Never gotten head from a guy with a beard before” she admits and he raises his eyebrows.

“Don't want to hear about your ex-boyfriends after I just made you come” he says and it has her raising her eyebrows too.

“Guess I won't tell you how shockingly bad they were in comparison then” she says, turning her head slightly, his lips find her jaw, pressing against it as he mumbles a “oh no… that I want to hear… tell me more” 

His hips thrust into his hand once, twice more, before they're sputtering upwards. His cock twitches in his hand, ropes of cum hitting his stomach, he groans a loud, drawn out noise into his bawled up fist. 

"Oh fuck…." He can't help but think how she'd take it if she was here, would she let him coat her chest? Would she beg for him to cum down her throat? He shakes the thoughts away, guilty grabbing handfuls of tissue and wiping himself clean.

"For God sake' he says, hastily removing the obscene amount of come from his stomach. He tucks himself back into his trousers, zipping them up, lifting the lid if the toilet and flushing the tissues. He washes his hands and takes in his reflection.

He shakes his head at himself "fuck off" he murmurs, talking to himself.

He shakes a hand through his hair, and splashes his face with water before he leaves the room, taking the paper, folding it up and placing it in his pocket. He sends a text to George explaining that he wasn't feeling too well and heads home.

Her hand drifts down his chest, but he encloses it before she gets the chance to touch him. Her eyes find his and she furrows her eyebrows.

"Your turn" she says and he smiles but shakes his head, placing a simple peck to her lips.

"That's not why I did that love… I wanted to please you" he explains.

"And you did, you really did" she smirks "now I want to return the favour" he pecks her mouth again after that.

"Another time I promise… we should get back" he says and she frowns. Did he not want her?

"Trust me love… I want to, I want you so badly, but if we're gone another minute I fear our little secret won't be so secretive anymore" he says, silencing her mind as if he could read it.

"Okay" she says and smiles at him. His fingertips envelope her chin lightly, bringing her lips to his for a sweet kiss, one which disabled her momentarily.

"Trust me love… I promise we will have another chance… I'd quite like to get between those pretty little thighs of yours again" he says, his voice dropping an octave. It makes her blush deeply.

"Okay" she says coyly, smiling a dopey smile up at him. 

"Let's get back, yeah?" She nods at his words leaning up to press another kiss to his lips. He smiles into it and suddenly everything feels different between them but at the same time it's as if nothing has changed at all.

George is somehow none the wiser when they return to the studio, too buried in work to realise how much time had passed. She asks where Matty is and George shrugs explaining that he left a while ago but he wasn't sure where he went. George lifts his phone and sees the message his curly haired friend sent reading it aloud to the pair. 

"Hope he's okay" Ross says and George nods, placing his phone down again.

"It's getting late, you should probably head home soon too" George says and both Ross and y/n nod.

"And you?" Yn asks and George smiles.

"I just want to finish this up and then I'll head… you guys go" George says with a smile. Yn smiles back and leans down to hug him and Ross' hand clasps around his before they're leaving.

It's dark outside the dark and a chill runs through her body but it's not long before Ross is wrapping an arm around her frame, warming her instantly.

"I'll walk you home if you like" the air around them feels different now, it's somehow both more comfortable and more exciting. She wants nothing more than to let him walk her home, invite him up to her room and let the night unfold. But Matty is on the forefront of her mind now and she's worried.

"I'd love that…" she hesitates and Ross frowns slightly at her, reading her facial expressions and somehow decoding what she's thinking. She half expects him to sigh, for him to step away from her frame, but her heart swells when he pulls her in tighter. She’s surprised once more at how he seemed to be able to read her mind. 

"You want to check on Matty…" his voice trails off and she nods, unsure on what his reaction would be.

"Is that okay?" She asks, one hand gently holding his face. She feels the way his cheeks shift, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips until the crinkles that she loves form. He nods at her. He knows now that on some level, she was his, and he'd do anything to keep her.

"Yeah love, text me when you're home though yeah?" She nods. She watches as an idea seems to pop into his mind, his face lighting up and his smile spreading.

"We have a day off tomorrow…." we have the day off tomorrow, she liked the sound of that. In fact she loved it. They were a we now, or at least in some way. 

"We do…." She smiles and he smiles back, just as wide.

"Let me take you on a date" he says.

"Hmm… what's in it for me?" She jokes.

"Oh absolutely nothing… I'm not worth the trouble really" he jokes back, stepping away from her briefly, as if to walk away. She’s quick to grab his arb and pull him back.

"Hey hey hey, where do you think you're going?" She asks, making him chuckle a short laugh.

"Yes I'd love to go on a date with you" she says through a giggle.

"We'll go on a date then…" he says.

"Good"

"Good" he confirms it with a brief kiss before pulling away, she watches as he scrunches his nose up, eyes crinkling at the edges as he does and his lips pursing.

"It's a date then squish" he says and she lightly shoves him, but before he goes too far both hands wrap around her small wrists and he tugs gently. She crashes into his hard chest with a little "oomph" and he looks down at her with a smirk and all thoughts and ideas of scolding him for it disappear.

"I'll make it worth your while" he says, his voice low, it makes her shiver. She blushes, her mouth opens and closes, at a loss for words. He chuckles, the kind of one that's just an exhale through his nostrils and his grip loosens around her wrists.

"Go check on Matthew, text me when you get home and I'll see you tomorrow, 10 work for you?" He asks and she nods. 

"Sounds perfect" she watches as he looks both ways down the street and then back over his shoulder and up to the studio, before he turns back to her. No one was around, the street dark and empty. So he leans down and captures her lips in his, in a kiss that completely blows her mind. His soft ones against hers, tongue folding over hers, blissful sighs falling from her and soft groans from him. In those few moments, all that exists is him and them, the world slowing around them like something out of a romance novel. 

He pulls back and all she can do is nod and she chases his lips with hers. It makes him laugh and she slowly opens her eyes to see him again.

"Wow… that was some kiss" 

"You should go… see if Healy is okay" Ross says and she nods, leaning up for one last kiss.

'Dream about me' he says against her mouth, their lips momentarily separated and she nods before his move against hers again.

"As long as you dream about me…" she says, pulling back until their lips just graze.

"I have every day since I met you" 

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @promocodesorry75 @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx @k4tie75 @insidemymind19 @zzzhealy @maybeiwouldlikeyou @at-her-very-foreign @not-alien-girl-v @sinarainbows @friedlandblog @momentum2023 @youlooklikeshitandyousmellabit @Inhalerbea (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊, those with a line through are the ones i couldn’t tag)

#ross macdonald #ross macdonald smut #matty healy #matty healy smut #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald one shot #same for you the 1975 series #ross macdonald x oc #matty healy x oc #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy imagine #matty healy x reader #adam hann #george daniel #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross mcdonald fanfic

[erisenyo]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @ofherlionheart, thank you!!

1. how many works do you have on Ao3? 36?! When did that happen...

2. what's your total Ao3 word count? 1,612,719, and now I'm eyeing the shibari fic and my written WIP where chapter 4 of 6 is going to be 60+ word document pages all on its own...

3. what fandoms do you write for? ATLA! Though I'm starting to eye The Radian Emperor too, if I can figure out the writing style

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Love is in the Hair 2. These Things Written 3. These Things Known 4. These Things Unsaid (lol the middle of the series having the least kudos of the three, middle book syndrome strikes) 5. Lessons in Proper Asset Management

5. do you respond to comments? I do! I do my best to reply to all of them, I love hearing people's thoughts and chatting about the fic or the characters or canon. Though I am currently egregious behind after the holidays, doing my best to catch up...

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't know that I do angsty *endings* versus just highly emotional situations that end in (hopefully) satisfying ways? To Cleave These Roots We've Made is probably my angstiest run into an ending, and Of Tea and Turtle Ducks (and the Turtle Duck Guy) just had a very high-emotion end. I don't know, what do you guys think? I don't always have a good read on the tone of my own fics lol

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Ohhh this is tough, maybe To Be Named, To Be Known (To Be Loved) or (With Wonder and Care) Reach for Far-flung Dreams, in part because the endings are just a culmination of a lot of like warm feelings? Or Didn't Know What I Was Missing (But I Guess I Found It) because we were all so happy the three of them finally talked lol?

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really, though Katara in Burning Bright has been fairly polarizing. It's not hate but it's also like...not happy haha

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh, do I ever! And...all the kinds (m/m, f/m/ poly, f/f incoming)? Full on, graphic, self-recognition-through-the-boner character-developing smut.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I don't!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? oh man I hope not. I don't even know how I'd find out, unless someone told me

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! Into Russian!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, though I got close with certain installments in the Zukki series with the way Ash helped me outline haha. I wouldn't be opposed to it, but it feels more like long-form roleplay when I imagine it.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? This is a hard question! Because there's stuff I read fic for and stuff I write and then stuff I've like, read and gently rotated in my head for the rest of my life. But to make it easy--Zukka haha

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I tend not to let myself have too many simultaneous WIPs, and I don't really break my rule about finishing a work before starting to post, so no, looking at the current set. There's ideas I'd like to write that I'm not sure I will, but nothing started.

16. What are your writing strengths? I'd say dialogue, characterization, and building narrative tension and momentum

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Fight scenes lol. I don't know why they're so much harder than smut scenes, they should be the same, except smut is like intensely close and intimate and full of sensation and emotions and fight scenes have to be go-go-go but still full of sensation and emotions just different ones haha

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I've never tried! It seems like it would be difficult, me knowing only the one (and Latin, that doesn't count haha) and so much of the fun of language being in the wordplay and clever turns of phrase and the world of difference between someone saying "father" or "dad"

19. First fandom you wrote for? ATLA! I wrote some original fiction back in the day, but fandom-wise ATLA is my first go

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? So cruel to make me choose! I am a little bit in love with everything I post. And I will cheat by saying either To Open Every Door to Night, To Meet Each Rising Sun or Just Let My Love Adorn You (You Gotta Know that I Adore You) right now, I'm so pleased with how they both came out, and they were so much fun to write. Both really came together so well from what I initially imagined.

tagging @queendollophead-ao3 @lizardlicks @ranilla-bean and anyone else who wants to play! I'd love to see your answers

#tag games #fic writing #if we take Burning Bright as one fic for Q4 then Part-Time Plumber and Oh the way your makeup stains are the next highest by kudos #Also asking me to pick a favorite is so cruel I love all my creations so much and for such different reasons

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 32

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 - Part 26 - Part 27 - Part 28 - Part 29 - Part 30 - Part 31

Warning: angst, emotional abuse, loneliness, despair - as a writer I would say here is the big plot twist and after that everything will get better (hopefully)... :)

That night you had the worst nightmares you have had in a while. After crying yourself to sleep you saw Buggy in your dreams, the small Buggy as you had first met him, sitting together with Gaimon, holding a glass, smiling at you, his face friendly and full of innocence. You wanted to go over to him, you wanted to sit with your friends and laugh and drink and enjoy the good times you always had together. While you trying to reach him, stretching out your hand, his body turned into wax, his face a sad grimace. He tried to move his lips, but everything was inaudible. You called out for him, wanting to run towards him, but something is holding you back. As you looked down to your feet you can see quick sand, slowly swallowing your feet, reaching now all the way up to your knees. The sand is hot, you cannot move, you start to lose sight of Buggy. Feeling desperate, knowing if you could have told him only one thing, this one thing - you could have escaped the quicksand and also rescued your captain from the wax. 

Panting and gasping for air you wake up, immediately sitting up, pressing your palm to your anxious heart, trying to calm it down. You should have told Buggy that you love him. You had so many chances. The first time he forcefully shut you up, being afraid of hearing these words from you. The second time you had no courage. There was no third time. And now it was too late. You tried to slow down your breath and think of what to do next. You had spent the last days in self pity and despair. You did not believe that Buggy had really abandoned you and sold you to a mighty warlord for a handful of berries. There was something else about this story which was fishy. If this was his plan all along why did he not give you to the marines in the first place? They probably would have even paid a better bounty than a criminal like Crocodile. And why would he think you would just stay here in this desert city and live with a chain-smoking devil fruit eater? 

You looked around in your room, not seeing any chance to escape. The windows were sealed with iron bars, the door always locked. You laid back in your pillows and sighed loudly. You knew what to do - you would have to use your charisma and charm once more to finally play along and get out of this palace. And then you would have a chance to meet your former captain again. Would you tear him to pieces for past grievances, or would you be overwhelmed by an intense desire to kiss him passionately? In this moment, you found yourself unsure of which path to take, uncertain of what would be the most appropriate response.

Until the morning you were laying awake in your bed, your mind full of thoughts of revenge and determination. Before dawn, you got up, went into the bathroom and take a long and soothing bath. You decided to use the finest shampoos Crocodile has provided you with and you even found some makeup to enhance your natural beauty. For someone who had been abducted and hadn't slept much you actually looked great. As you came out of the bathroom you went to the closet, taking out one of the most beautiful dancer costumes embroidered with pearls and stones. As you gazed into the mirror, a bittersweet nostalgia washed over you. Reflected back was an image of a lady, no longer adorned with the trappings of a pirate's life - maybe this was the life you had actually longed for?

Seizing a book from the nearby shelf, you swiftly tore out a piece of paper from its first page. With a sense of urgency, you etched a message onto the paper before carefully tucking it into the pocket of your skirt, ensuring its safekeeping. As if he would have predicted your timing, the door opened and Crocodile entered your room carefully, unsure in which state he would find you in. You sat on the chair next to the window, holding the book you just had grabbed, pretending you were reading and awaiting his arrival. It was the first time he saw you in the clothes he had chosen for you and on top of that you were not in your bed, but bathed and dressed sitting on a chair.

 “Good morning!”, you greeted him with a smile. You were determined to make you both feel better by showing kindness.  “Good morning…”, he hesitated, hearing you saying this for the first time as well.  Slowly walking towards you, his face was blurred in confusion.  “Feeling better, eh?”, he asks, putting the tray in front of you on the little table next to your chair.  “Much better. Thank you for breakfast.”, you put the book down, making sure he won't see the first page being ripped out. 

Not knowing how to handle your kindness, just like Buggy, Crocodile turned around on his heel. 

“Wait, don't you want to eat with me? I am tired of eating alone..”, you asked him carefully, making sure your voice doesn't sound too demanding. 

“I already ate. Maybe later..”, his short answer left you a bit disappointed and without further ado he left the room and you alone again. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, carrying with it a mix of frustration and resignation. You had made an effort to accommodate his desires, to align your actions with his expectations. Yet, it seemed that your attempt had backfired, leaving you questioning the complexities of your relationship.

You spent the day reading, trying to distract yourself. Every time the sadness seemed to overwhelm you, you took a pen and started writing on some pages of the book letters to Buggy. But as time passed, frustration welled up within you. The letters, filled with raw vulnerability and unspoken yearning, felt somehow inadequate. They failed to capture the depth of your emotions or bridge the gap between you and Buggy. You also felt just mad at him. In a surge of exasperation, you tore the pages apart, crumpling them into a ball before casting them beneath your pillow.

Crocodile came back around lunch time, bringing you another meal at midday for the first time since he had captured you. This time he carried two trays, both full of fruit, meat, rice, even a bottle of wine and two beautifully crafted crystal glasses. “Lets have lunch together!”, he proposed and you were relieved he seemed to have understood your good intentions. Without taking his coat off, he sat down next to you on a chair, facing the window, the trays placed in front of you. He offered you wine without saying a word and you happily nodded, knowing this would take the edge and your nervousness off. As you both started drinking and eating in silence, the sun of Alabasta shone through the window, lightening up your meal and his face. He was still looking at you with suspicion, his forehead slightly wrinkled. You knew you would need to talk to him to make him trust you more. 

“Thank you for giving me the chance to talk to Buggy last night. I have to admit I was sad at first…” 

Crocodile paused mid-meal, his gaze fixed upon you, intrigue etched across his features. He appeared genuinely interested in what you had to say, inviting you to continue sharing your thoughts.

“But I understand now that he was after my bounty all along. He just saw me as something easy he could use and get rid off again..” 

The warlord fell silent, giving you the chance to share your feelings with him. You could see his face was more at ease now, the presence of wine had also contributed to his eased demeanor.

“I just thought… that I would be more for Captain Buggy than just a simple crew member..”

“Is that so?”, Crocodile took another sip of wine before he lit his cigar. You can feel his eyes now wandering all over your body. You are taking another sip of the wine, trying your best to stay in the role. 

"Yes, I thought... I mean, after we shared some nights together," you began, your voice trailing off slightly as you broached the sensitive topic.

Crocodile's voice rose a notch as he interjected, his curiosity piqued by your statement. The subtle shift in his tone did not escape your notice, and it brought a smile to your lips. His eyes betrayed a mixture of confusion and something deeper—an unmistakable desire.

You met his gaze with an air of candor, fully aware of the effect your words were having on him. The room seemed to crackle with anticipation as you continued. “So, he didn't treat you right?” “No, he did not offer me a beautiful room with so many books like you do now. A private bath. A spacious bed with luxurious sheets. And all these beautiful clothes…!”, you let your hands gently slide down over your clothed shoulders and your slightly exposed décolte. You can hear him clearing his throat and taking another bigger sip of wine. He has almost finished his whole glass in one gulp. 

You think of the beautiful green dress Buggy had bought you. The dress you haven't worn yet, the dress you loved so much, which was so much more elegant and sophisticated than the cheap dancers clothes hanging in this closet of yours in your little prison cell. You decided at that moment to not only tear Buggy to pieces but also steal your dress back. 

“Well, this is all yours and you can have even more. If you join forces with me, I can buy you whatever your heart desires.”, Crocodiles voice called you back into your grim reality.

“Anything I want?”

“Anything.”, he repeats and empties the wine bottle into his glass without offering you more. 

You sit back and smile at him. 

“Can you take me for a walk? I am dying in here out of boredom. I want to see the town of Alabasta!”

He suddenly gets up, the cigar gleaming angrily in his mouth. 

“You can go out later. It is still too early for you.” 

“But…!”

"Let's discuss this later!" he repeated firmly, seizing both trays and hastening towards the door.

Caught off guard, you found yourself unable to react as he swiftly exited the room, leaving you behind. Your voice, a mere whisper, escaped silently, "Shit!"

Crocodile never returned, not even for dinner, leaving you with yet another day of receiving only two meals. Surprisingly, this arrangement suited your current state of mind. Frustration simmered within you, fueled by the frustration he presented and the exhausting effort required to maintain the facade. In truth, you were looking forward to an evening spent in solitude, allowing your thoughts to wander freely, particularly towards Buggy.

Caught in a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions, you found yourself trapped between disbelief and the painful realization that he had indeed betrayed you—a despicable pirate who had forsaken you for the allure of some cheap berries. The few moments when you had called him out on his behavior and he had defended himself as “I am a pirate, you cannot think highly of me..” was something you remembered now as you were sitting on your bed.

In a fit of frustration, you tore at the fabric of your skirt, rending it into tattered pieces. The desire for him still burned within you, despite the pain he had caused. Closing your eyes, you envisioned his handsome face, his defined cheekbones, his penetrating gaze, the red nose, and the smudged clown makeup. Vivid memories of his intense presence flooded your senses—the way his eyes glinted with desire, the sound of his voice as he moaned softly. The overwhelming rush of emotions threatened to engulf you entirely.

Overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions, you rose abruptly, a scream tearing from your throat. The torn fabric of the skirt scattered on the floor as you unleashed your agony, your voice reverberating against the walls. Frustration turned into fury as you struck the bookshelf, causing books to tumble to the ground, their pages rustling in protest.

Exhausted from the cathartic release of your screams, you sank to your knees, cradling yourself in your own arms. Rocking back and forth, tears streamed down your face, you were exhausted. In that moment, you allowed yourself to surrender to the overwhelming vulnerability that had been building within you.

You were so strong all day, it was okay to be weak now and give in to your feelings. Tomorrow was another day… 

#one piece #buggytheclown #one piece buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #long fanfic #nanowrimo 2023 #long reads #sir crocodile

[luvring]

BRUH I REALLY WISH I DIDNT ASK FOR MICAH YUJIN IN ANON FKDNXKDNXK Okay anyways HIII I USED TO BE AN ANON HERE BUT NOW I HAVE AN ACC HAHA FEAR ME /j...unLESS-- OK ANYWAYS pls share that discord u talked abt!!! i wanna joinnnnn AND ALSO A PART 2 FOR MICAH OUR KING????? YES P L E A S E

— micah yujin boyfriend hcs 2

don't worry guys this one was not as long. (part 1 here !) also wow. a past anon..wow. heyy 😍 and the discord link is on the official itch.io page i think but !!

https://discord.gg/Smhppc7J :]

always sends you funny posts/videos he finds and makes sure to react to each one you send Him

^ has and will continue to send you videos where the 12 year old kid is matching initials as soulmates and you show up.

sends you pics of skrunkly (and him) basically on a daily basis. always captions it something stupid (/affectionate)

^ combining these two to discuss cat trends that you keep sending him so he goes OH THAT'S A GOOD IDEA

micah loves doing chores with you!! grocery shopping, Laundry And Taxes, etc etc. #QUALITYTIME i get it. you might not be Quick with him around but it's fun so i consider it a win

^ wants to try cooking new meals with you, especially any of your own cultural food ! if you can't cook then he Will offer to teach you

if you give him any jewelry he won't take it off (said by girl who does the same thing)

do(n't) play co-op horror games with him. will go in guns blazing then start yelling and running to you when he inevitably gets in trouble. actually pretty good when he tries but he doesn't try so what do we do now🤨

^ if you're playing a competitive team game and he's on your team,, there's a good chance micah will Sacrifice Himself very dramatically. if you sacrifice yourself he swears on your life to avenge you

would be very much (sends random text at 3am) (you respond) (wow i cant believe you're Awake?)

you must have a build-a-bear date. it is Necessary. personally i'd get sonic and tails together but you guys do you?

trying to get up in the morning w this guy...one of you is definitely not letting go and repeatedly asking for 5 more minutes until you're inevitably in bed for another hour

there's multiple times where you come home and find him hugging something of yours fast asleep. sorry. i am so sad

shakes you violently. do his makeup. sit on his lap and do his makeup. make him sit somewhere and stand in between his legs and do his makeup. do it . do i

micah is very good at knowing when he should be serious . if he knows you've had a bad day he does everything he can to make you comfortable and remind you he loves you — snacks, cuddles, watching the show you guys always watch, rambling so you can just listen, bringing skrunkly over, etc etc o(-(

currently imagining someone performing on the street, micah bowing and offering a hand, and saying "would you offer me this dance, your highness?" like i will burst into tears rn

i think when he hears an animal he repeats the sound. sorry this isn't boyfriend specific but like a bird cawing and him cawing back. meows at stray cats. you stopped walking 3 minutes ago and micah is still crouching on the ground trying to get its attention

he was not kidding about the maid dress thing. the Real trick is to show up in a matching maid dress/butler outfit. is micah frozen in place staring at you,, maybe

you know those stuffy riders. the mall animal rides. i'm not even going to finish this thought you know what you need to do.

grabs your shoulders and says smth like you're my ride or die before going on big carnival rides. like..thank you. makes some kind of competition out of it (who screams the most/least, etc etc)

^ makes little jokes about those couples in lines but would be that couple with you. "we're the exception, obviously."

have you seen that guy's abs. anyways. micah doing the push up kiss thing. you cheering him on because he "gets way stronger" when he knows his angel is there

if you dye your hair to match his/skrunkly he will explode. might cry a little idk

doesn't realize it sometimes but he stands in front of you to block the sun when it's super sunny

if you hurt yourself he kisses wherever it is. goodnight

bites u /affectionate

not to act like some old married couple or anything but he Will ask if you want to watch like, home renovation shows together. which i love btw. he gets very opinionated

uses the reversible octopus plushies

if you're sitting next to each other and micah notices you're tired he'll wordlessly pull your head to lay against his shoulder

would use one of those apps where you can send each other notes/drawings as a widget. will he write a cheesy pun or draw a penis That Is Not Up To Me

#error143 #micah yujin #micah yujin x reader

[iraprince]

If you're sorta making this into a vtuber account i might as well ask you, with those pngtuber models, do you have a guide on how to get started with them? Also, do characters need to have humanlike face proportions to be able to like, work correctly? What if you wanted to make a bird, where the mouth is like really long and beak shaped? Would that be a problem for the honk stuff?

God this looks incomprehensible, sorry

not incomprehensible at all! whenever i get a chance i would definitely love to put together tutorials, both quick step-by-step guides and longer videos (bc idk about you but for me, the ideal is when BOTH types of tutorial exist lmao!!!)

in the meantime, there are tons of tutorials that already exist on youtube for pngtubing, and a few for setting up in honk specifically, but i'm not sure how many exist for best ways to actually draw the model and organize parts (layer organization etc) and stuff like that bc i didn't look for those when i was getting started. when i get around to it any guides i make will probably be more about that than the tech stuff, bc other people already have the tech covered!

honk has documentation/guides of its own, and the community page on itch.io can be really good for troubleshooting specific issues. honk is my primary recommendation if you want to get into pngtubing -- the program is paid ($12 USD) and model setup is a bit more laborious, but only in the beginning, and i think the liveliness of the lip sync and the eye tracking is well worth it! a downside is that honk doesn't currently have gif support, which a lot of other pngtubing programs do have, but there are plans to add it in the future.

this is the method i've used for setting up a discord reactive pngtuber (the second method on the page, "stream kit reactive images" - i know it may seem like a lot of steps, but if you take your time and follow the instructions closely it's not so bad! i am NOT tech savvy and still figured it out, so anyone can.) you only need discord and OBS to run this setup, and you can fiddle with it to do collabs (multiple people's pngtubers all on screen at the same time, lighting up and talking while you're in a discord call! fun for multiplayer games), but of course it can also be your main setup with just you alone in a private voice channel as your mic input.

and a good middle ground between honk and the discord reactive setup would be a program like veadotube mini! it does the same thing as the discord reactive setup (display a talk sprite when you're talking and a silent one when you're not), but in a self-contained program on your computer just like honk. i haven't used veadotube myself, but i see other pngtubers mention it as their program of choice.

i do have one video up of myself rigging my model in honk -- i wouldn't call it a guide or a tutorial though, because it's very informal and we also ran into a pretty annoying bug that made the process go less smoothly than i would have hoped :') (also the first few mins of video are muted bc my music got dmca flagged lmfao but the important stuff is all there!) but anyway if you just want a quick look at how a model looks getting put together in the program you might find that interesting.

you could ABSOLUTELY do something like the bird u described in honk, it's really really flexible. the way honk works is u just have to have different images drawn for different lip synch mouth shapes (try googling "animation lip sync mouth shapes" and check out the image results for an idea of what i mean), assign them to different consonant/vowel sounds in the program, and it automatically matches it up for you with voice recognition. so imo the challenge in that case would be an art challenge (figure out how you want to draw lip sync shapes with a beak), not a technical/program-specific challenge. but if you didn't feel like fucking with all that, you could just repeatedly use the same open beak image for all the sounds, and it would just make the beak open and close when you talk!

i haven't tried making a honk model where the mouth breaks the silhouette, which might be the case with a bird character like that depending on how you have the head angled, but theoretically i don't see why it would be an issue. a regular pngtuber would be really straightforward as well!

#vtuber #pngtuber #i wanna tag this something memorable so i can find it again if someone asks lol #idk uhhhh. #save #ALSO forgot to mention this but i don't want to actually do tutorials until my own workflow is uh. more optimized #because right now it's really hacky and stupid sometimes lmao!!! it works but i dont want to like. kind of Teach ppl to do stuff in a way- #-that's unnecessarily complicated or obtuse just bc i happen to be plowing my way through without a care #vtubing help

[jmrothwell]

holding onto a stuffed animal/pillow, imagining that it's their lover in their embrace instead for Carrie/Reggie?

Carrie was ready to pull her hair out. Not that this particular assignment was all that hard, just tedious as hell. Whose idea was it to require all senior’s to write a 12 page research paper in order to graduate anyway? 

On top of all the other courses and music program requirements Carrie barely had the time for it. Effectively losing some of her precious weekend time in order to get it done. 

She was staring at the document on her laptop frustrated that certain words were no longer looking like words. Was monotonous always spelled that way? And was the spell check absolutely certain complete wasn’t misspelled? Her thoughts were interrupted by a rhythmic knocking on her bedroom door. 

Which could only really be one person. 

Her dad would typically knock just the once before trying to talk to her through the door. Julie and Flynn would have texted, and wouldn’t just be showing up at her bedroom without some sort of ruckus at the front door first. 

“I don’t have time right now, Reggie.” She called out, holding back a groan at finding a sentence that made absolutely no sense.

“Oh, but I miss you.” Reggie said, poking his head and shoulders through her door. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks.” 

“You saw me last weekend.”

“Yeah, at Eats and Beats for another open mic night.” His voice moved to behind her where the bed was. She glanced up to her mirror in time to see him dive onto her bed, face torn between a smile and a pout. “And we didn’t exactly get to hang out before you had to run off again.”

“I’ve had a lot of homework.” She said returning her focus to her paper, even if she struggled with writing and talking at the same time. “Speaking of, I really need to focus on this.”

“Want some help?” He cheerily asked and she bit back her smile. She’s not sure she’s ever going to get used to how much he wanted to just spend time with her. Especially now that she was also in on the ghost secret and they weren’t restricted to the studio anymore. 

“If this was physics or Calculus I would take you up on that offer in a heartbeat.” She said, almost wishing she still had homework in either of those subjects so could switch over to it. 

“Maybe I can just hang out until you're done?”

Carrie sent a glare his way through the mirror. Or attempted to anyway, the look lost some of its edge when she was met by his hopeful smile. “Fine. But don’t distract me and stay out of my stuff.”

He was quick to promise her with a bright smile and a giddy little bounce on her bed. She returned to her work with a small eye roll, and a small smile she couldn’t hide. 

True to his word he kept to himself, though he wasn’t entirely quiet. Quietly muttering and making small noises. Carrie was able to ignore them for the most part, figuring he must be reading or something.

After an hour or so Carrie stretched her arms up over her head, finally content with what she had for her paper. As she did so her eyes drifted back to the mirror and spotted Reggie still on her bed. On her bed and using one of her teddy bears as if it was a puppet, reenacting some sort of fight scene. 

“I thought I said not to go through my stuff.” She said, spinning around in her seat to fully face him.

“I didn’t.” Reggie’s smile faltered slightly.  “This little guy was sitting with your pillows.”

She scowled, not so much at him but at the fact she forgot she’d left the teddy bear out. Though she struggled to stay upset for very long especially with how Reggie was now making the bear in question do a little happy dance. 

“You done with homework?”

“For now.” She said as she joined him on the bed, barely remembering to not try to take hold of his hand. The fact she still couldn’t touch him was still a bit of a struggle. 

Both of their smiles faltered slightly when Carrie’s phone chimed. She groaned seeing the message from Julie, asking if Reggie was with her. Apparently Luke had some breakthrough and absolutely needed the band back this instant. She was half tempted to not even let Reggie know since they barely spent any actual time together. 

“Guess I gotta go.” He said after she let him know. A bizarre bittersweet flutter took over her heart seeing how hesitant he was to return to his band.  Quickly he tapped the teddy bear’s muzzle to her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

He vanished away with her gasp of breath, leaving her to wonder if the gesture was intentional. She pulled the teddy bear into a tight hug, burying her face in the top of its fuzzy head, sort of hoping he had meant it to be a surrogate kiss. Feeling that sting of jealousy as she wished she could hug him as easily as Julie could.

#jatp sweet tarts #carrie x reggie #canon compliant?

[alovelyburn]

Rambles about the Conviction Arc Part 12

So we’ve arrived at last at the end of the Conviction Arc, and thus the return of Griffith.

...yep nothing else to say, getting right to it.

Rambles about the Conviction Arc Part 12

1. I like the way Miura set up the reveal as we basically follow Guts’ experience with it, watching Griffith’s reappearance in this kind of overwhelming way. You’re also seeing him a bit through Guts’ eyes, which makes what he says about Griffith later (in V22) pretty interesting, too. Because however you slice it....

This really isn’t Griffith appearing as he did in the past. I mean not to say he doesn’t look like the same person but people even remark that he’s dialed up from before. He’s an idealized version of his original appearance. It’s telling that, to Guts, there is no difference.

As a sidenote, I realize that he’s twisted that way largely to keep the D out of the camera’s eye but it sure is a choice, it just ends up looking like he wants to show off his butt. Anyway!

I feel like I’m not showing this moment the proper reverence. But most of what I have  to say about Guts’ first sighting of Griffith is really more appropriate for the leadin to the Hill of Swords.

The funny thing is, this isn’t any different than the way Guts always reacted to him. From the first time Griffith grabbed his face to here - its the same expression every time. The way he automatically and instinctively loses his drive to attack is... telling?

“All who were there forgot to breathe and were enthralled. And they sensed intuitively that the one they desired had come.”

I’m very curious about Griffith’s... otherworldly charisma? The way the Apostles automatically capitulate to him is one thing, but some people also feel that intense pull, like say Mule. At the same time, it’s obvious that he isn’t constantly exuding mind-control pheromones or anything because he does get into arguments with nobles and the people with him when he confronted Ganishka were still terrified of the Apostles. Even here we’re about two pages from the Kushans deciding to attack and capture him, for all the good it did them, so I guess I’m wondering what makes it turn on and off – does he do it purposefully? Is it a call to those who will ultimately be fated to play an important role in his life/mission? Does he aim it? Inquiring minds want to know.

And what is it that is making them intuit that he is their chosen one?

2. There’s been some discussion of this bit on my blog in... I don’t know the past few months? I know it is often read as Guts being angered and then called back to himself by Casca reigniting his humanity or something... but I’ll be honest, I’m pretty sure it’s Casca reacting to Griffith because she recognizes the infant in him, and Guts being pulled back by the pain of having her reach for Griffith.

Because okay I say this kind of offhand sometimes but one day I’ll actually have to write about why I say it... IMO Guts has long been afraid that Casca and Griffith were really the “meant to be” and he’s just in the way. I believe that this is some of the reason for that whole side plot with Guts trying to get Casca and Griffith together, but it’s also the reason for things like Casca accidentally slipping to Guts that she’s still into Griffith during the rescue – things like that. I mean, from a character perspective it’s done because its how she’s feeling but narratively the purpose it serves is to ignite that doubt in him. I think for him to feel like Casca is still trying to run to Griffith, especially after the Eclipse and the rape, is extremely difficult for him – and it informs a lot of his reaction to her reaction to Griffith for example during the Hill of Swords scene as well.

And if you look at his expression, it’s not... well. In my opinionation, that is the face of a man being punched in the gut by unpleasant emotions, not the face of a man being saved from himself.

Just like its reflected in his reaction here – her reaction is the same here as in the above page – she’s not calling to Guts at all,  she’s reaching for Griffith, trying to go to him, just like she is in the following pages where Guts has to hold her back and looks... pained about it. But his reaction is in itself quite nuanced because

Despite the rage he’s trying to hold onto, and despite the need to uh, save Casca from herself I guess...

when he looks at Griffith, his reaction remains the same. He’s still enthralled, still dazzled.

And one thing that’s worth mentioning about Griffith is that thus far his eyes have remained closed, which aids in the illusion that he remains the same as he was before, both to Guts and to the reader... right up until the final page of the chapter...

When we are immediately reminded that he is no longer human by those inhuman eyes. Of course it also serves as the moment when Griffith stares back at Guts, thus setting the stage for his decision to drop in on Guts in a few chapters because it was too crowded for them to chat here (O_o).

...as a sort of side note, I don’t really love this picture of Griffith – he doesn’t really look... like Griffith so much as he resembles a deer... actually I think it’s mostly that his jaw is so pointy because Griffith always had a kind of wider, cherubic face. But I do think it is very effective and kicking the reader in the gut (lol) and being like, this isn’t the Griffith you knew. Because he doesn’t look “normal” or even human.

Obviously, the other major thing happening here, aside from Griffith’s return, is...

The march of the Kushans that will define Griffith’s part of the story for the next 14ish volumes.

3. Also Farnese’s reaction to this is pretty interesting as well. Griffith is her religion’s messiah or whatever, so it’s kind of... INTERESTING? That she never seems to react to that – although in fairness I’m not quite sure offhand whether she knows that for certain.

It’s also kind of funny how everyone’s worried about Guts and Casca and then just...

Miura didn’t even feel the need to really show you how he escapes, it’s just like... it’s Guts, of course he’s fine.

The way Casca clings to him is a bit sad considering how their relationship falls apart later. It never really does recover until she gets her mind back (well, not even then).

4. This is the kind of thing that makes me suspect that Guts will truly manage to break free of fate at some point. It’s hard to say really, but I do think it at least reiterates that idea – good and bad both come to people regardless of their actions or their morality. Still, it’s their choice to fight on, or to give up and die.

In a kind of sense that’s the difference between Guts and Griffith, but in the latter case Griffith wasn’t really given the option to keep fighting, due to the way fate wrapped itself around his throat.

I love the recurring motif of the flowers being released to indicate, I guess, resignation and grief – Griffith releasing the flowers from the wagon during the rescue, Guts and Chichi’s flower and of course this, which I think.... is significant both for the acknowledgement of the behelit apostle’s pain and as an expression of Luca’s basic character.

...you can be, come back to us Luca. Uh.

5. This little bit is important because it does raise the question that is... batted around for the next 20 volumes. Guts is more than capable of protecting anyone (at least until he has to fight Griffith to do it, but that’s not his fault), but his ability to involve himself with people personally is by no means developed, especially since he regressed after the Eclipse. So I appreciate Luca coming into drop an incoming Important Question, but at the same time...

I just can’t get over how weird it is for people to consider Guts and Casca to be potential lovers given how Casca’s mind is. It’s so weird, I don’t get it? You could say she means be with in a supportive sense or just in the sense of not abandoning her, but she obviously considers Guts and Casca to be a couple, you know? I ... ???

6. I do try not to dig too hard into Miura’s actual real life situation but given that he did talk about how much his problematic childhood affected the story and his father’s conversion from an abuser into a religious extremist, I think it’s interesting the way he kind of......

...portrays Farnese’s faith as something she clung to in order to fight back the darkness. And the way those demons still squirmed around inside of her even though she used her “faith,” or rather her clinging to that thing, to hold back the darkness both inside and outside and within herself. I feel like her motivations get retconned slightly when we meet her family, although we’ll see if I still think that when I get to that story.

And here it is again – the way people who live in fear cling to others, and the light that Guts carries with him even when he doesn’t see it himself, which is much of the time. I was thinking about why it is that Farnese decides to follow Guts – I think her leaving the Holy See is almost inevitable at this point – she has discovered that her belief was never really belief, it was a coping mechanism. But what makes her decide to follow Guts instead?

I think she is trying to face her fears. Because she equates the darkness in the night that she was so terrified of to the things she’s seen in these past weeks – the monsters, the demons, the jelly spirits. She’s perceiving them as being made, literally or figuratively, of the same thing as the darkness that she cowered away from as a little girl.

So now, forced to look at her own fear,  she wants to walk through it. To face it. And to do that it makes sense, doesn’t it, to follow Guts... the man who walks into that darkness, never flinching, and holds the light.

And her feelings for Guts begin to parallel Casca’s feelings for Griffith – starting from being saved, having her life and the rules she knows upended, and then envisioning him as her miracle.

And isn’t it interesting how even the smallest characters have their own struggles, their own problems and pain.

Now, it’s time to finish off Nina’s story before we go off for the evening...

7. I mean, it goes without saying I think that I don’t think Joachim has anything to apologize for. I’m not saying I’m in favor of persecuting pagans at all, but those particular pagans just... I can’t get past the cannibalism, lmao. Who wouldn’t freak out?

That said, since I’ve gotten into the habit of drawing parallels and trying to explain how I see those things... fitting together and the implications in those parallels, let’s talk about Nina and Guts. I said a few rambles ago that Guts left the Hawks so that he wouldn’t become a Nina – someone who clings to Griffith and feeds off his light without being able to sustain himself. In Guts’ case, it wasn’t really something he had to do, because he already had a light of his own – he never really disappeared into the Hawks or depended on Griffith the way the others did. In fact you could suggest that in a lot of ways Griffith depended on him instead. That said...

I think this is a pretty decent sum of one reason Guts didn’t say goodbye.

I mean there are other things involved, right. Like I’m sure he didn’t think anyone would care that much since he didn’t understand his own value – not as a soldier (which wasn’t as necessary anymore) but as a person. But... I do think if he had gone to Griffith and tried to explain himself or tell him that he was going, he wouldn’t have been able to actually leave. More pointedly, though...

That’s really the Nina version of Guts’ reasoning isn’t it? Guts decides to leave so that he doesn’t keep staring up at Griffith from this subordinate and dependent position (that he perceives himself to be in) not because he wants to escape Griffith or whatever but because he has the hope that one day they’ll meet again and he’ll be able to look Griffith in the eye instead of staring up at him.

Nina isn’t actually like Guts at all obviously, like she’s a big coward and passive and obsessed with survival. ...well, Guts is a little obsessed with survival too, but anyway...  much like Luca and Griffith aren’t generally similar but you still have an overlap in the relationship she has with say Nina and the relationship Grififth has with the Hawks... there is this overlap. This repeating idea that even if you love someone, as long as you’re depending on them in some way you can’t really come to your full “strength” so to speak. In Nina’s case I do think she needed to get away if she wanted to find her own strength... because otherwise she would have kept hiding behind Luca and resenting her for it. I think it is, for Nina, a beautiful ending and despite my general dislike for her character, it does make me want to see her turn up in Falconia so we can see how she is and whether she’s survived until now... given that she’s... dying.

And this does come up a few times either in direct character-to-character relationships, as with Nina and Guts, or with say a more abstract dependency as with say Farnese and the Holy See. In all cases, the character who pulls away is strengthened by that decision.

This is one of the reasons I always balk at the idea that Guts leaving the Hawks was necessarily a bad thing for him. Obviously it had catastrophic consequences for Griffith, but I will maintain to my dying day that the Guts who returns is meant to be perceived as stronger, more at peace with himself, and more confident. And I don’t think something harming Griffith while empowering Guts is a contradiction or at odds with their portrayal in the story – if anything I’d say that it suits their yin-yang/two sides of the same soul thing, because when one is on top the other generally isn’t - Griffith rises as a mercenary while Guts wanders miserable and aimless, then rises through society while Guts spirals because of the Promrose speech. Guts goes off on his own and gathers physical and mental strength while Griffith falls from grace and is destroyed in the dungeon. Griffith ascends as Femto while Guts is dragged into metaphorical hell. It’s part of the dance they have within the narrative that they’re rarely in the same place at the same time.

...but I do think abandoning someone you love without notice is a dick move and I think that whether you’re talking about Nina and Luca or Guts and Griffith. I mean honestly leave a note. Send Joachim back to tell her if you cant face it yourself. Don’t put Luca, who marched into hostile territory and risked her life for you, Nina, in a position where she might feel like she has to spend the next several days scouring the countryside for you while you’re off having dinner with your new bf, it’s a dick move gdi, a dick move.

...so....

I like the Conviction Arc a lot, though it isn’t my favorite.

...that comment sent me on a death spiral of trying to decide in what order I like the arcs, but anyway, Conviction has a lot to say about fear and coping mechanisms and the way leadership works, and how it feels to be the leader, or the one being led. I always love the way Berserk handles the sheer humanity of people – their weaknesses and their strengths. And it draws these parallels and comparisons between characters who don’t have much in common besides a certain thing – the experience of being surrounded by people who look to you for salvation as seen in Luca, Mozgus and Griffith, or the experience of clinging to something to hold back your fear as with Farnese and Nina. The drive to leave behind something you don’t really want to lose in the hopes that when you find it again, it will be better than when you left it... even though you know it’ll hurt the person you care about most, as with Guts and Nina.

I don’t know. It’s a lot of human commonality and it reminds you that everyone has the same problems and pains regardless of their circumstances or how strong or weak or cool or uncool they might be.  And that’s something worth saying.

Of course, now we move to the next phase...

Millennium Falcon incoming soon.

But not next time. Next time there’s a mini-sidetrip. The time after next, though. Yes.

#berserk #berserk meta #rambles about berserk #ariel talks about berserk

[janetbrown711]

Wakko's Wish

Wakko makes a wish upon a star

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Ao3 Link

Wakko wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this.

He was barely holding on as it was, always trying to keep a happy face for his sibs, make them believe everything was okay. Dot was a lot easier to trick than Yakko, but even he could be swayed eventually.

It had been almost a year. Wakko still missed his parents every day. He missed their protection… Yakko was trying, that was true, but even he could get distracted. Sometimes he’d be studying off in the library when Wakko needed food, so he’d have to figure it out on his own because God knows he couldn’t ask his grandmother for anything. Wakko figured it out for the most part, but it was easy to say he missed quite a few meals over the year for fear of disturbing Her.

Wakko knew she placed his room by hers for the specific purpose of making his life a living hell without his sibs. The only reason she’d want to be near is if she wanted to keep an eye out, or if she wanted to hurt him somehow. Well- she succeeded on that end anyway, though perhaps the better word was torture.

Sure, sometimes Wakko could manage to sneak past if he crawled on his hands and knees and put socks on his feet and hands, but he was filled with anxiety that made his heart pound and breathing heavy which made him just want to run back to his room and never go out ever again. He was terrified of getting his sibs in danger- a trait he knew he shared with both of them.

Maybe they were all putting on a happy face.

He couldn’t say it was all bad… he was getting better at reading. Dot read easy stuff which helped him boost his confidence, while Yakko read more difficult stuff to make sure he was actually learning, which- while Wakko kinda hated it- he couldn’t deny it worked. He was getting better- he was actually learning things, which felt nice.

Though they had had a few close calls here and there…

Wakko wasn’t sure what would happen if they got caught, but he was pretty sure they’d get into serious trouble. Angelina really hated the fact Wakko was stupid but hated him trying to better himself even more. It was like she wanted a bug under her shoe to squish just for fun… the thought made Wakko shudder.

So… the year had its good moments, but… a year had really taken its toll. The only major good part was that Angelina stopped wearing that stupid veil and pretended to be grieving. Now you knew what she was thinking and saying, which… well… good and bad.

Good and bad.

“What’s this word, Wakko?” Yakko asked, pointing to a particularly long one on the page in front of Wakko. He frowned at it.

“I dunno,” he shrugged.

“You’re a smart kid, sound it out,” Yakko said. Wakko winced a little and looked at the page.

Frankly he often debated with himself whether it was better to be stupid or to be smart. He wanted to know things, but at the same time knowledge seemed like a burden more than anything. At least- that’s what he got from observing Yakko. Yakko always had something on his mind, something big, while Wakko hardly ever thought about things other than food or some imaginary story he likes playing on repeat to keep himself busy while his sibs were gone. It was a simple life, though he supposed he was also still miserable and Yakko was too so who knows.

“in… for…ma…ti..own?” He looked at his elder brother.

“Close. Information. Tion sounds like shun,” Yakko pointed out.

“Right, that’s information,” he nodded. He knew the words, he was nine after all, but reading was different.

Yakko was then going to make him read the full sentence again, but a familiar shout was heard right outside, and the boys froze as the door swung open.

“Yakko- calm this child down,” Angelina shoved Dot, who was crying, towards Yakko, when her eyes fell upon them.

“What on earth is going on here?” She glared at Wakko, and he felt his heart beat faster.

“W-well I-i was just-” Yakko tried to think of what to say as Dot went to him, but Angelina yanked Dot back, before angrily taking off her gloves and going to Yakko herself, slapping him across the face and he slammed into a bookshelf, books spilling out onto him.

“What did I tell you?! You are not to educate that bastard creature, lest you and him face serious consequences,” She fumed.

“No!!! Don’t hurt him!!!” Dot continued to cry. Wakko growled and just about leaped out of the chair, but Angelina grabbed him by the ears.

“This is on you,” She spat, and began to drag Wakko out of the room.

“No! It’s my fault! I forgot the dress type! Please! Punish me instead!” Dot insisted, stepping out in front of Angelina.

“Oh Dottie,” The queen shook her head, placing a soft hand against Dot’s face. Dot froze.

“If you get in my way again I assure you his punishment will be increased tenfold.” She whispered harshly.

“Now be a good girl, and run along now. You have much to study,” She smiled sweetly.

“You don’t get to call me Dottie,” She growled, baring her teeth.

“Dot, no,” Wakko pleaded with her. Angelina tightened her pull on his ears.

“It’d be wise for you to listen to him for once,” She smiled more. Dot growled again, but stepped backward, and looked back at Wakko.

“Angelina. Move,” She ordered. Dot looked at the arm holding Wakko, a very obvious thought popping into her head. Angelina sighed.

“I expected more from you,” She said, before kicking Dot to the ground and moving on, giving Wakko’s ears a massive tug before continuing on.

Wakko heard Dot get up from behind, trying to keep her distance, but her tears made her noticeable.

Quickly and painfully, they turned around the halls and owners of the castle, before Wakko realized she wasn’t going to be putting him in his room, and he was filled with dread and terror.

“Wh-where are you taking him?!” Dot shouted at her, once she had the same thought.

“That is none of your concern, Dot.” She said coldly. “I’m teaching you three a lesson.”

“Let go of him!” Dot shouted again as Angelina started to go up the enormous stairwell. The queen ignored her, climbing higher and higher.

“I said let him go!” Dot shouted, pulling on her dress as she had a year ago. Angelina froze, before turning around, dangling Wakko off of the stairs above the at least 20 foot drop below, only holding him by his neck.

“Shout at me again young lady, and I will,” She threatened. Dot gasped, covering her mouth.

“Wait- No-! please! Don’t hurt him-!” She begged, and Wakko did his best not to be terrified for his life.

“Go back downstairs, Angelina. You’ve done enough today,” She spat in her face. Dot wanted to protest, but the queen lifted Wakko higher and Dot backed down, lowering her head in shame as more tears streamed down.

“Good girl,” The queen smiled, and patted her head, before turning around and continuing to drag Wakko up, Dot’s sobs echoing as they went all the way to the top. At this point, Wakko was pounding and kicking against her best he could, but she proved herself to have gotten wiser about that, as her long silk gloves prevented scratches or bites to her skin, and her pure gold bracelets also didn’t help.

Eventually, she reached the top of the familiar tower, and she tossed him in like an animal. She closed and locked the heavy iron door and the sound made Wakko’s head hurt.

“How long do you plan to leave me here, huh?!” He demanded, running to the door. However, to his horror, she left without a word to him. He listened closely to the door, still hearing Dot’s cries when he heard her yelp in pain. Wakko pounded on the door, but since it was no longer wood, all that ended up doing was hurting his hand. Wakko cringed in the pain, but knew there was nothing he could do.

He was locked in here… for who knows how long. Could be days, weeks… months…

If she even bothered to keep him alive, which was something she was clearly starting to debate more and more as time passed. Wakko didn’t want to die-

At least… not yet.

Perhaps it was foolish, but he did still have a shred of hope for his future, though it only got cloudier and cloudier as days passed. He tried to remember the advice and optimism of his dad, but that only brought up the painful feeling of him being gone. The same thing happened when he tried to imagine his mom comforting him too.

After a while of him just sitting on the cold and filthy floor in shock and pain, he heard pounding on the door.

“Wakko? Wakko? Are you in there?” Yakko called from outside.

“Y-yeah!” he replied, wiping his eyes.

“We-we’re gonna get you out Wakko. I promise,” he declared.

“Yakko, you can’t promise that,” Wakko frowned.

“Yes, I can Wakko. We’re going to get you out,” He asserted.

“She’ll kill you- she’ll kill me if you try,” Wakko pleaded.

“I know… but… w-we’ll escape. Run away to a far-off town where no one will find you two. We’ll be safe,” Yakko said, becoming more and more desperate.

“You’ve said it yourself: a place like that doesn’t exist,” Wakko crossed his arms, leaning against the cold door. He heard Yakko do the same.

“We… we could…” Yakko tried to think.

“Yakko… you should just forget about me. You and Dot would be fine without me, I hold you two down. I should just- stay up here and- and die,” Wakko pulled his knees to his chest.

“Wakko!” he gasped. “Don’t say that!” he said, much softer.

“Grandma will never care about me, a-and mum and d-daddoo are gone s-so… it would just be easier for me to stay here… away from you two… just like she wants,” He suppressed tears as best he could, but choked on the lump in his throat.

“Wakko, no.” Wakko heard him turn around to face the door again.

“No matter what happens, we are not going to give up on you. I’m here- I’m always gonna be here, Wak,” He spoke softly.

“Mum and Dad said they’d be here too…”

A painful silence hummed through the air. It hurt to even breathe after he spoke. Wakko gave in and cried.

“Wak… I-i… I don’t know what to say…” Yakko said.

“Just go away- before you get locked away too,” He sobbed.

Yakko didn’t respond, staying there for a long, long time.

Wakko didn’t say anything either.

“We will rescue you Wak… I promise,” Yakko repeated, before standing up and going.

Wakko stayed on the floor the rest of the day.

.o0o.

Angelina hadn’t been sending servants to give him food, only water.

Wakko had been up there for three days and it was easily the most miserable he had ever been in his life.

He knew his mother had been sent up there at least once. He could see her carvings in the wall, and scratches on the floor, which he traced over his finger and slowly read.

“Yakko? Slacky? Wacky?” and “Harold the 9th” was written beside the bed. There was a tally for what he assumed were days next to the broken mirror. Other random words he couldn’t quite read were sprawled all around.

Yakko came up to talk every now and then, but he never could stay long. Wakko kept meaning to ask him for food, but he knew Angelina was strict on eating hours, so it was unlikely he could sneak into the kitchen to grab anything anymore.

He also promised he was thinking of an escape. Wakko thanked him for the effort, but his hope wasn’t high. Crazy how three days of starvation can do that to you.

Dot came at one point too. She cried and apologized and explained how it was her fault their grandmother got mad, saying how she hadn’t read the page she was supposed to the night before and didn’t know the types of dresses and she got mad, which made her cry, which made her take her to Yakko, which caused everything else. Wakko told her not to blame herself, but he knew that wasn’t going to resonate. Just another way their grandmother tightened her grip around them.

But for the most part, he was alone. Utterly and perfectly alone…

He had his little imaginary games in his mind, but even those ran out eventually, mostly due to the cold. Stupid early winters…

One particularly cold night, Wakko said “screw it” and went to the window and looked out at the stars.

They shined a lot better all the way up here, at least that was nice…

As he looked up, a chill ran through him and he was reminded of just how hungry he was. He cringed in the pain, and looked up at the stars, having run out of tears days ago.

“I… I wish mum and dad were still here… If they were alive everything would go back to being okay…” he whispered weakly to the brightest star he could see. The stars twinkled back.

Wakko sighed, lowering his head, continuing to look when he noticed that the star appeared to be growing larger- that wasn’t normal, right? And if it’s not, was it actually happening, or was he just seeing things because he was hungry?

It also appeared to be growing closer- that wasn’t good.akko scrambled back from the window and pounded on the door for help, but nobody heard or came. Wakko braced himself as the light got brighter and brighter and eventually filled the dark tower.

However, nothing crashed or burned or turned him into goop, so Wakko slowly turned around and opened his eyes, and he saw a glowing figure in a really poor looking rope, cheap wand, and wings.

Well- that was interesting.

“Uh- who are you?” Wakko asked, really uncomfortable with the idea of a stranger popping into his prison out of nowhere.

“I’m your desire fulfillment facilitator, Pip,” the desire fulfillment facilitator said dryly. Wakko blinked.

“Uh- hi, Pip,” he said.

“Congratulations Wakko, you did it. Out of all of the stars in the night sky, you made your wish up the wishing star,” He said, so monotone Wakko wanted to tear his ears off despite the fact that he was saying good news.

“The Wishing Star? I’ve never heard of a Wishing Star,” He frowned.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stories?” He asked. Wakko shook his head.

“Hm… doesn’t matter. You did it anyway. It was your request for a wish that brought me here,” he said.

“Wait- so- you can bring my parents back?” Wakko realized. He nodded, and Wakko almost passed out.

“You’ve decided on your wish?” He asked.

“I just said-”

“Right, right. Welp- here it goes,” Pip snapped his fingers, and a ball of green light shot across the sky, and crashed far, far away- behind the mountains in the horizon. Wakko frowned.

“Hey, what gives? It couldn’t be any closer than that?” He frowned.

“Oh whoops, too late to fix now,” Pip scratched the back of his neck. Wakko gave him a look. “Looks like you have quite the trek ahead of you.”

“Yeah… I guess so,” Wakko couldn’t be sour for long, now entranced by the bright light.

“And you better be going if you don’t want competition to build up,” Pip added.

“What?! How am I supposed to reach it if I’m stuck in this tower! These rules are completely unfair,” Wakko crossed his arms.

“Don’t worry Wakko, your siblings will be coming to get you soon, you’ll just have to tell them where to go,” Pip explained.

“Huh?” He tilted his head when he heard footsteps not far away from the door.

“I must go now- just remember this: the one who touches the fallen star first gets their wish. If you're not first, you don’t get it,” He said.

“What’s the point of me wishing on the star then, if it’s just up for grabs?! You’ve got to be the lamest ‘wish fulfillment facilitator’ ever!” He crossed his arms.

“Whoops- I gotta go, bye,” He waved and turned to star dust before disappearing completely, right before he heard a knock at the door.

So much for that guys help.

“Wakko?” It was Yakko.

“Yakko? What’re you doing here?” Wakko asked.

“We’ve come to break you out,” Dot chimed in, and a very, very, very long rope made of several sheets was pushed through his “meal slot”.

Wakko didn’t know what to say.

“Tie one end to the hook by the window and climb down- my advice is to not look down and pretend like it’s just training with Dad. Plus, me and Dot will be waiting for you at the bottom,” Yakko explained.

“Wait- I have to tell you something,” Wakko interrupted.

“What?��� Yakko asked, surprised Wakko wasn’t protesting.

“I-i made a wish at a star tonight and– well– apparently it was the wishing star so now we have to go- like… really actually go so I can make my wish and then everything will be okay and happy just like it used to be,” Wakko said.

“The… wishing star? I thought that was just some kiddy bedtime story…” Yakko said, mostly to himself.

“Well- apparently not,” Wakko said, taking one end and tying it to the hook-like Yakko said. Yakko sighed.

“We’ll talk about this once you’re down. Me and Dot are gonna wait at the bottom,” He said.

“Okay… see you on the other side,” Wakko said, making the mistake of looking at how far down it was, but was surprised the rope actually went all the way down.

There were a lot of sheets.

“You got this Wakko!” Dot encouraged before he heard the two of them go.

Right. He had this.

He may not have been very smart, but he was a good climber. He could do this…

At least, he hoped anyway.

He promised right then and there that if he was going to make it out of this alive, he was definitely going to go to the Wishing Star- it couldn’t be more dangerous than climbing down a 50-foot rope made of tied sheets,

…Could it?

.o0o.

Lena despised being in recovery more than anything. She had been rendered practically immobile because of her broken leg, and her weakened muscles took months of physical therapy to rest and recover.

Every day she thought of her children, and missed them dearly. She knew when all of their birthdays were and was overcome with grief as each passed.

She was supposed to be there, with them. Celebrating, laughing, protecting.

Instead?

Now she was in William’s hometown, mooching off of their generosity because of her title, feeling utterly and totally useless.

After months and months of healing and resting and physical therapy she was finally back to semi-functionality. Sure, she could now go for strolls at night with William, but she knew she still couldn’t actually do anything- she still couldn’t go back to the castle and put an end to her mother’s reign. They’d be caught- called imposters and possibly be killed.

Lena couldn’t imagine making her children go through them dying twice.

“Lena..? What are you thinking about tonight?” William asked softly, and Lena remembered where she was.

“It’s been a year William… My mother must’ve done numerous unspeakable things to them by now…” She looked away at the plaza. He squeezed her hand.

“I was thinking of the same thing…” he said. Lena put her head on his shoulder.

“I miss Wakko’s jokes… I miss Yakko’s wit… I miss Dot’s smile,” Lena said, smiling a little at the memory.

“We’ll figure it out soon, I promise,” he kissed her head and closed his eyes as they sat on a bench outside the hospital.

“Soon…” she echoed.

Soon her ass.

Soon was a ridiculous unit of time. No matter how much time had passed, everything seemed to be “soon”. The word drove her mad.

She was going to say something about this, when suddenly a bright green shooting star suddenly soared through the sky, grabbing her attention as it went all the way down before suddenly crashing down behind the Acme Mountains.

“William- did you see that?” Lena tugged on his arm.

“See what?” He tilted his head.

“That star- it crashed just behind the Acme Mountains,” She shook him so he opened his eyes and he quickly saw it.

“That’s- no… that couldn’t be..? Could it?” He squinted at it.

“I think it is…” Lena said.

“You think the Wishing Star could actually be real?” He asked.

“My father taught me about it when I was a little girl, the books are still in the library. My mother never really approved of fictional books- it has to be true,” Lena quickly stood up.

“Careful Lena, you’re still-”

“Oh hush William. Don’t you know what this means?” She asked. “This is our chance- we reach the wishing star we can reunite with the kids- and take down my mother for good.”

“And everything would be perfect again,” William couldn’t help but smile. He stood and kissed her.

“C’mon- we haven’t a moment to waste,” Lena said.

“Woah, woah, woah. Lena, it’s very late. We need to go to sleep,” He said.

“But- William- it’s right there,” She frowned.

“Yes, but we’ll have to get a horse or two to share and it’ll be a long and treacherous journey- those mountains aren’t exactly easy to get through,” William warned. Lena sighed.

“But… it’s right there… Our kids…” She looked at it.

“I know… but I promise Lena, it’ll still be there in the morning. Wishing Stars aren’t common knowledge, and we’ll have the distance advantage,” William said. “So please… let’s get some rest before we go out, alright?”

Lena sighed. “I hate when you’re right.”

“You love me,” He teased.

“I know,” She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. “But.. tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow. We’ll head out first thing in the morning.”

“To the Wishing Star…” She smiled.

They were going to see their kids again after all.

#wakkos wish #animaniacs #my fics #angelina1 lives au #wakko warner #tw abuse #yakko warner #dot warner #angst #lena warner #sir william the good

[mapsofnonexistentplacesremade]

my brain is particularly gripped by somsak IDK why but i love him so much and his keytar we need to bring those back. but if you have any brainthoughts about him i'd love to hear them!! also ik the relationship section on his toyhouse page is a wip and idk if that's for like any reason but if you have anything to say about that it'd be cool. smash mouth

SOMSIIIIII honestly he exists in such a weird state because i built him up to be a pretty important character really early on and then my brain got distracted by all the other guys i made up.... i need to think about him more and maybe actually working on his page would help LOL

right now he's kind of just sitting in the story as a weird 'absence' character which i do find fun but yknow it means he doesnt really do much. in my minds eye hes just like cool skater kid from a prog ska band who says swear words all the time. theres more to him but i havent been able to put it into words yet....

rest got long so

honestly the relationships part is probably the most interesting. at least so far. the person he's technically closest to is ulises because she's the one who basically revived him and yknow. she feels this kind of responsibility for him and checks in with him to make sure he's ok. somsak thinks he's too cool to ever confront his emotions and likes to stay aloof but deep down he REALLY appreciates ulises' concern.... i think soms is kind of aware that nobody on the train really likes or respects him and though he knows he kind of does it to himself hes at least glad Someone cares about his existence at all. also thinking about it theyd both bond over music they like the same kind of tunes :+) ulises is like his cool prog rock uncle

he also has this with beatrix. having been the person to save him from falling into fornax. but its to a lesser extent just because beatrix is way sharper and untrusting themself so their relationship basically amounts to like. theyre both walking around the train and see one another. silently walk up to one another maintaining full eye contact. beatrix asks in a jovial yet stilted tone "have you fallen into any more dimensional holes as of late" as like the worlds funniest joke. somsak answers "at least 12" plays a haunting riff on his keytar and runs away. they dont talk for another month

uhhhh next thing doesnt really count as a 'relationship' i just think its an interesting character thing i wanna bring up real quick. demeter doesnt like him because he stirs up memories of míra most unpleasantly. obviously they dont say it aloud and its less of a "why do you get to live when she didnt" thing and more of a "wow every time i look at this guy i wonder how my whole life would've changed if míra had survived too" so its just like. wah. they're cold to him :+(

notably hes friends with freya kind of. they both like to cause mischief and will like. very quickly catch on and support one anothers jokes its like epitome of doing a bit with some stranger and just getting the yes/and in sync completely somehow. sometimes freya finds him very annoying and gets kind of rude but that shit flies over soms head completely and he doesnt care

i think his connection with dalisay also works in a similar manner but unlike freya dalisay speaks far more earnestly and its more of like. bouncing off of a straight man sort of improv between them. somsak just finds hir monotony brilliant honestly

somsak kind of admires olzhas and isel and like. has a weird respect for the both of them LOL he tones himself down around them which baffles olja especially. hes just like hey these guys came to the train and found a better life aboard just like i did!!!! fuck yes!!!!!!! theyre cool im also cool!!!!!! he also thinks theyre both just cool looking. transmasc swag forever

what else. have some quotes about him from like typed up relationship charts i made a few months back. theyre the funniest ones

#my ocs #ccs.text #ccsimulacrum

[nomorejust1ce]

I literally have no clue how tarot stuff works sorry about that haha

Uhhh I guess 12 49 8 and 64? My name is Joe, and hmmm advice on romance I mean why not

joe

7/13/22

romance reading

ace of pentacles reversed (12), page of cups (49), five of wands reversed (8), ace of swords reversed (64). + two of swords (card that jumped out of my hand while i was shuffling)

general breakdowns

first and foremost, i want to address that the majority of your cards are reversed. this usually means that your situation is still developing, and unclear. it’s in your control to see where this goes.

ace of pentacles reversed: aces are a lot like… um… “seeds”. they represent the best part of a certain suite- in this case, pentacles. possibilities for growth, trust, and stability are abound! the ace of pentacles nudges you to think practically, and do things you know will produce tangible results. now is also the time to put your faith in others.

because this card is reversed, its energy may be blocked, repressed, or ignored. are you caught up in fantasies? are you overly suspicious of those around you? try to be more down to earth.

page of cups: wonderful card!!! pages indicate an opportunity of some sort, and, when dealing with cups, might have to do with your ~relationships~. the page of cups gives you this sage advice moving forwards: be open and receptive of your feelings, let your intuition lead the way, and, more than anything, proceed with love. if you’re dealing with an obstacle of some kind, see how far a loving, soft approach can get you. also, don’t be afraid to be intimate and open! now’s your chance!!

five of wands reversed: five of wands is not the easiest card to pull. it can indicate being plagued by endless little barriers that are not as difficult as they are tedious. it can also mean- especially when i’m reading for myself…- that you or someone else is picking fights, or nitpicking. all in all, your situation is likely full of a lot of disagreements. if competition is something that is working for you, then hey, by all means, let it flourish- but generally, it’s better to try to resolve these things.

when i get the five of wands in the reversed position, it usually means that it’s inappropriate. i’ve usually been too nitpicky, or quarrelsome, and i need to work more towards cooperation. are you like me? or could some healthy competition improve your situation?

ace of swords reversed: another ace! when ace-ace pairs appear in a reading, it means both the powers of the aces are entering your life. so, not only is there opportunity for security, trust, and growth, but also for justice, mental strength and clarity, and fortitude. (also, double opportunities for trust!) now you have the power to analyze your problems and find the answers you’re looking for. it may not be easy, but don’t give up! pursue justice, and remain honest with those around you.

in the reversed position, this energy is likely blocked or repressed. perhaps you need to be more open? are you thinking about and approaching your problems logically?

two of swords: maybe you’ve been hurt in the past, and it seems impossible to be open with someone else- maybe even yourself. the two of swords implies you’re at a standstill. because of your inability to be honest with your feelings, you cannot move on. this card can also mean that you’re refusing to see the truth. you may feel one way, but act another. allow yourself to feel how you really feel. beneath the veneer, what do you actually think? 

what i think

as implied by the two aces, i think there’s significant opportunities abound! although these cards are reversed, their energies still remain present in your life. open yourself up to trusting others. it may be easier to remain defensive, but opening up again will likely help you in the long run. proceed with love! be kind to others and generous with your feelings and time. remember to reflect that loving energy back at yourself, too, and have faith in your own abilities! you are more than capable of getting everything you want!!!

#fireside chats #ask #roastedbeefed #tarot

[swimfaye]

2023 Wallet

so in January this year that I got into a LinkedIn conversation. There was going to be a recession. Period full stop. The problem is that the US was already in a recession. This was the first full year where Covid was actually "normal" people traveled and went out and spent money on events. I called it in January ..

The Pineapple

In March the US and EU got a first hand slap in the face at what Higher interest rates yielded ...bank failures. The high interest meant that banks that had 60% of their backstop in bonds actually lost money when a run on the banks happened. The one silent page of that story is if that run was caused by international entities. The other silent page was how much digitalmonetary was being used to back up a bank? No one has really answered that question. Unfortunately or fortunately JP Morgan was there for the US but once again I am reminded by how the US Government asked Warren Buffet in 2007 if he would loan or back up US banks and he said No. then in 2011 the US Congress failed to adhere locks and balance to the US banking industry and now we have a Fed Chair that is worth over $55 Million dollars and should have retired per se.

Micro Economy Bounces

Tom Cruise movie Maverick put people back in the movie theater seats. At $12 -$18 a seat the movie goer spent easily $100 just for the ticket to see a film. There was lots of films to see. After Maverick the Memorial Day weekend launched Barbie and Oppenheimer the year would end with Godzilla Minus One and more films that lured people back to the Theaters.

The fall saw both Taylor Swift and Beyonce also shoot people into the theater at $25 people flocked to the theaters to see a show they already saw in person or didn't get to see. This was one thing that could be stated the movie going experience was back.

The other micro economy ? Podcasts This year saw a huge jump in the production o them from literally EVERYWHERE. I still abhor the podcast because I think its noise pollution but it is. The secondary economy? Food as prices jumped serendipitously on certain food items you saw show after show farm after farm either thrive or highlight throughout the news cycle.

Poison

A train derailment, A bridge collapse, A tornado hit a manufacturing plant, A literal barn full of cows exploded. The economy exposed the fragile state of infrastructure throughout the world. The US insurance companies left states refusing policies on homes, cars, and people. This along with diseases like Norovirus to now RSV attaching itself to the societal means and ways. Health was the second biggest expendenture nearly $1500 for every doctor visit.

I guesstimated that the Recession would come in October. I had spent 8 months looking for a new job and not finding one I made the decision to return to a former job. It would be less money but, I can manage better anyway. As it sits today I will end up having made $70K this year a full 10% more than last year.

Speaking of earning more that $1500 per doctor visit was because of the retail of medicine. Diabetic Medicine is now being utilized by the populace as a whole to lose weight, combat obesity and be healthier to a point. The flip side is how long can people afford a $1000 a month bill and the side effects if you don't take the medication which you have to take to maintain the weight loss.

Colon Cancer, Pancreatitus and Kidney disease are killing people in part because they are taking cosmetic drugs.

The Recession

Soft Landing, Hard? No Show Recession? Its coming. As I stated in January office buildings leases are down significantly. Real Estate brokers got tagged recently in fees. The Election is near. Even if the $55Million dollar retiree does lower interest rates in March or June the World Economy demands a recession. There are nation after nation with empty coffers, Artificial Intelligence is not the answer for generating economy and People still have to work at something.

Death

The planet is literally dying. The Earth's center slowed down or completely stopped. Heat waves and volcano's have intensified and the Winter is here. There are less butterflies, a group of Orcas have developed a peculiar specialized appetite that is unbalancing the pecking order of the ocean - Great White sharks livers. The deforestation is causing literal death to millions of animals and plants-Brazil, Colorado, Russia.

The regional wars are tempting the worst war. the war that is at the doorstep and the US is tenious to not answer it.

Yet, there is hope, rebirth, and faith.

2024 will be another opportunity to strengthen the infrastructure both financially and physically.

But 2023 is not done yet. I know because its got a vlog to do:)

#2023 Movies #economy #Death #Poision

[lynniceberg]

I love Marvel’s Micronauts! I’m talking about the comic written by Bill Mantlo with art by Michael Golden that started in 1979. I had one of the toys (Pharoid) and I followed the comic for all of its original run, but it’s really issues 1-12, drawn by Golden, that remain dear to my nostalgic heart. I recently picked up a few of those old issues – some of the last of Golden’s run on the series - and a couple after he left. I was reminded how much I love his artwork. And how disappointed I was with the artwork on the series after he left.

I’m one of those comic collectors who lost his old presumably now valuable comic collection under unfortunate/careless circumstances. Every once in a while I find a random old issue of Micronauts at a comic shop for a reasonable price and pick it up hoping to relive the excitement of my first collection. I recently bought issues 10, 12, 13, and 14 - specifically because they all feature Michael Golden covers.

Golden co-created the Micronauts world with writer Bill Mantlo, who came up with many of the ideas when his son got some of the Mego Micronauts toys as Christmas presents. I think Mantlo’s writing on Micronauts is top-notch for its time in comic history. Mantlo was always creative and weird in a particularly Mavel way and I was an appreciator of some of his other oddball creations and writing while ignorant they were created by the same guy. I’m talking about Rom: Space Knight which I also collected in its entirety, and Rocket Raccoon, who eventually became part of that little movie series Guardians of the Galaxy.

It was the art of Micronauts that excited me the most, though, and after picking up this series I would always remember Golden’s style and name. I’d seek him out believing his work always elevated the stories. He designed the Micronauts world with Mantlo and while it’s clearly influenced by Star Wars, as are the toys, Golden’s art is so gorgeous, detailed, and dynamic that it really pulls one into the story. And so when I saw these Golden covers a couple of weeks ago I held them fondly in my hands excited to relive the thrill of Golden’s art.

I share these covers and some of the pages to show that the art really holds up! Issue 10 is part one of the climax of the big conflict between the Micronauts and the evil Baron Karza. Golden and Mantlo pack the issue with several plot threads that tie the main story together. Look at how Mantlo and Golden switch threads sometimes from one panel to the next (pages 22-23), building the tension to its bloody conclusion. The action is relentless and they don’t romanticize or shy away from the brutality of revolution and war (pages 11 and 22 -27). An exciting precursor to Golden’s work on The Nam, a great war comic.

The issues I picked up were in sealed bags so I didn’t know they included issues Golden didn’t draw. When I opened issue 13 I was reminded of my long ago aesthetic disappointment discovering it wasn’t Golden’s art inside. Golden drew many of the covers even after he stopped being the artist for the series. I include the first pages of issues 13 and 14 to show the contrast with Golden’s artwork. The art becomes simple, cursory, and, frankly, unexciting. It’s surprising to me that the lay outs are actually done by Howard Chaykin who is still another of my favorite comic artists. The art became so stylistically bland after Golden left and Chaykin’s lay-outs don’t hint at his own greatness.

If you enjoy looking at this art as much as me you will be happy to know Marvel is putting out a reprint collection of the series in 2024. You may also be interested in the Comic Kayfabe podcast about the Micronauts issue #1 and Micronauts Artist Edition. Ed Piskor and Jim Rugg and guest Tom Scioli really appreciate the Golden’s art but Piskor and Rugg often scoff at the Micronauts concept and story. Scioli defends the story as well as I could, though.

A story about the upcoming reprint is at this link:

The ComicsKayfabe Micronauts #1 episode is at this link:

And the Comics Kayfabe of the Micronauts Artist Edition at this link:

#micronauts #michael golden #bill mantlo #howard chaykin #marvel comics #tom scioli #ed piskor #jim rugg #rom spaceknight #rocket raccoon #Youtube #the nam

[ibtk]

Book Review: Stephen McCranie's Space Boy Omnibus, Volume 4 (2023)

(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through Edelweiss.)

The fourth volume of the SPACE BOY omnibus collects volumes ten through twelve, or episodes 144-195, the main plot line of which concerns what REALLY happened to the Arno - how a very young Oliver came to be alone, wandering Earth in a robotic body while barreling towards the Artifact in space.

As always, SPACE BOY is a sweet and wholly original science fiction comics, perfect for tween readers and up. As horrifying as this particular plot line is, McCranie balances the more tragic elements with moments of levity.

Volume 10 - 4/5 stars

Told entirely in flashbacks, Volume 10 picks up the teaser from Volume 9 and runs with it. It's six years ago, and the Arno is just days from entering the Aquarii Beta system. Oliver's dad Wyatt, an engineer, is clued in to an anomaly in the ship's readings, thanks to the family heirloom - a compass - that he gave his son. Despite a heroic effort to power down the ship so that they can run full diagnostics - a move that cost Wyatt his job - the crew can't find anything wrong with the ship. That is, until a fateful placement on the maintenance crew leads Wyatt to a long-forgotten part of the ship. But has the discovery come too late? (We already know the answer to that, sadly.)

There's also a super-cute subplot about a high stakes dodgeball game at Arno Elementary, in which Oliver channels Space Boy to bring his ragtag team to a near victory.

Volume 11 - 4/5 stars

As rolling blackouts rip through the Arno, Wyatt hides Oliver in the meridium core - the heart of the ship - for safekeeping. A blast knocks him out and, when Oliver awakens, it's to a ship that's curiously devoid of people.

Back on earth, the First Contact Project - helmed by Langley - crafts its response to the tragedy. When Oliver makes contact with them, the group of scientists and engineers begins to fissure, with concern for Oliver's well-being pitted against literal world peace.

Meanwhile, the mysterious, one-eyed alien (which Oliver christens a "warble") tries - and fails - to assume control of Oliver's body, and so goes in search of a new host on Earth. A visit with Langley in the book's final pages makes clear who's really calling the shots here. Though Langley is as nefarious as ever, we get a glimpse of a much softer and more compassionate Saito, as well as a ten-year-old Qiana and a promising scientist named Dr. Kim.

Volume 12 - 4/5 stars

With a newly orphaned Oliver committed to the mission, the FCP helps him ready one of the smaller ships to get him to the artifact, some five to six years in the future.

After his takeoff, we zip forward in time, to the day after the prom. The media is abuzz with news of Amy's kidnapping, while Tammie remains missing, Cassie is in the hospital with a head injury, and the Kokomo PD is in possession of one of the robots that chased down Amy and her classmates. Cut to the FCP, where Langley persuades Amy to join the team, at least for the next six weeks - which is how far out Oliver is from the artifact.

Amy knows not to trust Langley; not just because he's a government spook, but because he has the same copper and iodine taste that's seemed to have infected so many of the agents at the FCP. A smell that reminds Amy of ... her nightmares?

#books #reviews #book reviews #comics #graphic novels #Stephen McCranie's Space Boy #dark horse

[lesfeldickbiblestudy]

  Through the Bible with Les Fedick LESSON 3 * PART 1 * BOOK 81 DANIEL’S PRAYER AND PROPHECY - 1 Daniel 9:3–24 Okay, it’s good to have everyone in today as we begin the third part of Book 81. For those of you out in television, again we just want to welcome you to our Bible study.  And I have to take the time to thank you out there for your letters.  My, how we enjoy mail time, don’t we, Honey?  We still manage to read them all.  We may not all get them the same day they come, but sooner or later we get every letter read.  So don’t ever hold back from dropping us a note.  And again, I have to emphasize: please don’t write two, three, or four pages; because then we can’t get every letter read. But we do appreciate your letters, your gifts, and your prayers—everything that has made this such a blessing to so many.  For those of you here in the studio—we appreciate your coming in.  Many of you have traveled a good distance here today, and we realize that. Before we begin the lesson, I want to again let our audience know we still have this question and answer book available. We just got a whole semi-load again the other day.   It’s the one and only book we’ve ever had, and they are still going out by the hundreds.  They are available, and if you’d like a copy just call the office and we’ll get them out to you.  Probably the best $11 you’ll ever spend.  They also make wonderful gifts. Okay, now we’re going to get right into the Book, and we’re going to pick up where we left off after our last taping.  For those here in the studio, that’s over a month ago.  For those of you out in television, it was yesterday or last week, whatever the case may be. We’re going to come back to where we left off in Daniel chapter 9. We made rather a hurried commentary on the first two verses.  I didn’t really get to finish it like I’d like to, so I’m going to go back and touch on those for just a moment before we drop into verse 3.  So, let’s start at verse 1. All right, in chapter 9 verse 1, remember now that poor old Daniel is about 87 or 88 years of age, having been kidnapped out of Jerusalem when he was probably 12 or 14, which tells you how long he has now been out there in the area of Babylon and Shushan.  Well over the 70 years that he knew the captivity was to be.  So what’s in the old fellow’s mind?  Well, we should be getting back to Jerusalem one of these days. The seventy years of captivity has run its course.  It’s over.  And I think that’s why back even in a previous verse in chapter 8—if you want to look at it a minute, in verse 27—I think the old fellow was getting so anxious for the opportunity to go back home to Jerusalem; which, as far as we know, he never did.   But look what he says in verse 27. Daniel 8:27A “And I Daniel fainted, and was sick certain days; afterward I rose up, and did the king’s business; and I was astonished at the vision,…”  Well, I think what he was really sick at was that he had spent all these years throughout that seventy years that was promised in prophecy and there was still no sign of going back to Jerusalem.  Anyway, in chapter 9 verse 1: Daniel 9:1 “In the first year of Darius the son of Ahasuerus, of the seed of the Medes,…” Now you remember I pointed out in the last taping that we are already past the Babylonian K ingdom. And by the miracle-working power of God old Daniel moves from Baghdad, or Babylon, up to Shushan which is the capital of the Medes and Persians.  Unbelievable that here this Jew survives the whole Babylonian time and now moves up into the Mede and Syrian Empire and is still in a place of authority.  It’s just unbelievable, except that God is in it.  Now verse 2: Daniel 9:2 “In the first year of his reign (That is of Darius the son of Ahasuerus.) I Daniel understood by books the number of the years, (Well, what number of years is he talking about?  The seventy.  The seventy years should be fulfilled by now and we should be ready to go back home.  All right, we’re looking at it in just a moment, but let’s finish the verse.

) whereof the word of the LORD came to Jeremiah the prophet, that he would accomplish (or fulfill) seventy years in the desolations of Jerusalem.” Now Jeremiah prophesied it—but you’ve got to know your history, and you’ve got to know your time.  Jeremiah was writing about the time that Daniel was the little lad being carried out to Babylon.  So Daniel knew Jeremiah at least by name if not personally, and he’s referring to his prophecy. But before we look at Jeremiah’s prophecy, let’s go all the way back—and I love to do this to show the scornful world that this Book is like no other book.  Nothing compares to this Book.  Because here Moses is writing in Leviticus chapter 26—way back at the very beginning of the Nation of Israel you might say—and he’s already predicting this seventy years of captivity which won’t happen for years and years.  Leviticus chapter 26, drop in at verse 32, and God says through the prophet Moses, who we know wrote Leviticus. Leviticus 26:32a “And I will bring the land (At this point they weren’t even there yet, but they will be.)  And I will bring the land into desolation:…” Now, I’ve made the point on this program over and over down through the years:  anytime the Jew was uprooted from the land—which we normally call the Promised Land, or that part of Palestine that was Israel—anytime the Jew was absent from the land, it went into desolation.  No one else could come in and cultivate it and take advantage of it.  God made sure it went into desolation. See, that’s what ol’ Arafat never agreed to.  That’s why when he was holding forth and he would say over and over that it was the Arab’s land; it’s always been their land; it has always been a verdant land, which meant green.  It has always been a green land.  No, it hasn’t.  When Israel is out of the land, it becomes a total desolation.  And I’ll comment on that a little further on.    All right, but here it is.  God says: Leviticus 26:32-33 “And I will bring the land into desolation: and your enemies who dwell therein shall be astonished at it.  (The desolation) 33. And I will scatter you among the heathen, and will draw out a sword after you: (In other words, they would be invaded by these enemy nations.) I will draw out a sword after you: and your land shall be desolate, and your cities waste.”  Now verse 34, so we know that Moses was talking about the seventy-year captivity. Leviticus 26:34a “Then shall the land enjoy her sabbaths,…” Now for most people that needs some defining, doesn’t it?  When Israel went into the Promised Land, as part of the Law what were they to do with the productive end of the land every seventh year?  Let it lay fallow.  They were not to farm the orchards or the grain fields.  The seventh year was to be a land sabbatical.  But did the Jews do it?  No!  They never did.  For 490 years they never gave the seventh year sabbatical.  All right, now look what the rest of the verse says. Leviticus 26:34 “Then shall the land enjoy her sabbaths, as long as it lieth desolate, and ye be in your enemies’ land; even then shall the land rest, and enjoy her sabbaths.”  And how many would there be in 490 years?  Seventy.  So, there’s the promise of the coming seventy years of captivity down in Babylon while the land of Israel would lie fallow. Okay, now let’s jump up to what Daniel is referring to—to one of his earlier contemporaries—Jeremiah chapter 25.  This is the beauty of Scripture.  These aren’t just fables conned up before the campfire.  This is the immaculate, intrinsically prophetic Word of God.  Here we have Jeremiah writing shortly before the Babylonian invasion and before the Temple is destroyed.  Verse 11: Jeremiah 25:11 “And this whole land (See?) this whole land shall be a desolation, (The same word that Moses used.  Nothing is going to grow or survive.) And this whole land shall be a desolation, and an astonishment; and these nations shall serve the king of Babylon (How long?) seventy years.”    All in line with prophecy. Now

then, let’s come back to Daniel and carry on with what he’s talking about—that all these years of the seventy years out of the land are done, and it should be time for them to be going back and re-occupying the land and rebuilding the Temple and so forth.  Which of course is going to happen as we’re going to see before the afternoon is over.  All right, verse 2 again. Daniel 9:2 “In the first year of his reign (Ahasuerus or Darius) I Daniel understood by books the number of the years, whereof the word of the LORD came to Jeremiah the prophet, (And I’m going to add—as well as Moses.) that he would accomplish seventy years in the desolations of Jerusalem.” Now again, just to rise above all of the statements from the Arab world—they like to make it sound like (I’ve already alluded to it with Arafat) it has always been green, it has always been productive, it had always been Arab lands.  Well, now let’s just show you what a lie that is. Come back with me.  Now, I didn’t intend to do this.  That’s what I told Iris coming up, “You know, Honey, I never know where I’m going to stop at thirty minutes.”  I have no way of knowing it.  I don’t come up here with a set format or anything like that.  I didn’t intend to do this.  Let’s go back to Nehemiah. The unbelieving world knows nothing of this, yet we have to be aware of what the Word of God says.  Go back to Nehemiah, and we’re going to be doing this again later this afternoon, hopefully. Nehemiah chapter 2 just to show you that when Israel was gone those seventy years, nothing, nothing was done to embellish it; to bring it back into production; to get it ready for occupancy by whatever people might do it.  No, it stayed desolate for the whole seventy years.  Nothing was done to bring it back into production.  Nehemiah chapter 2. He’s sent by the king to go back and get ready to rebuild the city walls of Jerusalem.    Now Ezra, of course, was sent to rebuild the Temple.  But Nehemiah was sent back a good long while later to rebuild the city walls and make it preparatory for occupancy by the Jewish people. Nehemiah 2:17 “Then I said unto them, (those who were examining this with him) Ye see the distress that we are in, how Jerusalem (Is…teaming with Arabs?  Is that what your Bible says?  That’s what the ridiculous would try to tell us.  After seventy years there’s nothing in Jerusalem.  It’s what?) lieth waste,…”   It’s desolate, see? Now that’s the point I’m trying to make. Don’t believe all this garbage.  Don’t believe it.  It’s not true.  When Israel is out of the land, it becomes a total desolation.  God won’t let anybody make anything of it, and—well, I might as well comment on it now.  I was going to later. Even after A.D. 70 when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and the Temple and drove the Jews out to go wherever they wanted, and they literally became the wandering Jews of the dispersion; again, did the Arab world come in and occupy Israel and Jerusalem and put it into production?  Never happened!  For nineteen hundred and some years Palestine—now I use the word Palestine as the big area in which we have the land of Israel.  So don’t get on my case for calling Israel Palestine.  Palestine is that geographical area. All right, from the destruction in A.D. 70 until around the turn of the century of 1900, so that’s about eighteen hundred and thirty years, it was a total desolation.  Oh, there were a few little isolated pockets of people, of course.  But by-and-large the land was in total desolation. You know, I’ve always over the years referred to Samuel Clemens, the author of Huckleberry Finn. We know him better as Mark Twain.  And you’ve heard me refer to it more than once on the program. He traveled in the ancient land of Israel in the middle 1800’s.  I think it was around the time of our Civil War, around 1865.  And he wrote a book called Innocence Abroad. And he was merely speaking of being abroad as an innocent traveler.  In that book he gave this graphic description of the land of Israel in 1865.

  He said, “The land is a total desolation.  Not even the weeds of the desert will grow here.  We traveled mile after mile and never saw another human being.  The further we went toward Jerusalem the hotter the sun got.  By the time we got to Jerusalem,...” he said again, “...I would not want to live here.”  Well you see, that was all during that period of time when Israel was out in the dispersion, and the land of Israel was a desolation. Now then, before I’d even seen this book by Mark Twain, I knew a gentleman who had been in World War II, detached from the American army and was attached to something in the land of Israel.  So, he served a couple of years at the very height of World War II in Jerusalem.  Well, he was in one of my home Bible studies in Iowa after I began teaching up there.  And that was when we first became aware of this very fact.  He was telling us that it was such a—and it was a term he used—Godforsaken.  He said, “Why in the world anybody would want the Promised Land?  What was God thinking when He gave such a worthless piece of real estate to Israel.”  Well, that’s the way it was even yet in the 1940’s.  It was still a total desolation. Well, the first time Iris and I got there in 1975 it wasn’t much more than that.  Because I still remember as we were coming down the Jordan Valley, I said to her, “Honey, how in the world could God ever call this the land of milk and honey.”  It was still for the most part just barren desert.  Now, of course, every time we go back there’s more cultivated area.  My, remember last fall in the area of the Sermon on the Mount?  My goodness, what used to be just brush and sand dunes is now banana groves.  See, everything is just constantly increasing.  But the point I’m trying to make is that when the Jew is out of the Promised Land, it is desolation.  And don’t ever believe the propaganda of anything other than that.  All right, now reading on in Nehemiah verse 17 again: Nehemiah 2:17b “…Ye see the distress that we are in, how Jerusalem lieth waste, (Now remember, this is at the end of those 70 years, even quite a few over, and Jerusalem is lying waste.) and the gates thereof are burned with fire:…”  Has anybody fixed them?  No.  They’re still laying there charred just like they were when the Babylonians destroyed it.  Nobody lifted a finger.  And, oh, our people are being fed all this garbage.  When Israel is out of the land, beloved, it’s desolate; and God sees to it that it stays that way. Now even after modern days, when people would try to go and build up some of the cities—the Romans, of course, tried it, and every time they’d get started rebuilding a city, what would God destroy it with?  Earthquakes.  In fact, those are a lot of the places that we visit when we’re over there.  Bet She’an is a good example right down there south of the Sea of Galilee.  It was evidently a beautiful Roman Colony.  But before they finished building the city, what happened?  Earthquake.  Totally destroyed it!  It all lays there in rubble. And then malaria came in when the Hula Valley was swamped.  It was just totally infested with malaria. Malaria was so prevalent in the land of what we call Israel, that no more than two generations could survive it and they’d die off from malaria.  Then the drought came in.  The rain stopped.  So, God used those three areas to keep it desolate:  Earthquakes, Malaria, and Drought.  And that’s all it took, and for the most part it stayed desolate.  All right, just a couple more verses here in Nehemiah and we’ll get back to Daniel. Nehemiah 2:17b-19a “…the gates thereof are burned with fire: come, and let us build up the wall of Jerusalem, that we be no more a reproach. (Because you want to remember, that in antiquity the wall was the first line of defense.) 18. Then I told them of the hand of my God which was good upon me; as also the king’s words that he had spoken unto me.  And they said, Let us rise up and build.  So they strengthened their hands for this good work.

 19. But (Now watch this.) when Sanballat the Horonite, and Tobiah the servant, the Ammonite,…” Now stop a minute.  What kind of people are Ammonites?  Huh?  Arabs.  So just as soon as the Arabs got wind that these Jews were thinking about fixing the place up, they opposed them.  Then, already! And it’s no different than it is today.   All right, reading on, verse 19: Nehemiah 2:19 “But when Sanballat the Horonite, and Tobiah the servant, the Ammonite, and Geshem the Arabian, (See, now that makes it plain enough.) heard it, (that they were going rebuild the city) they laughed us to scorn, and despised us, and said, What is this thing that ye do?  will ye rebel against the king?”  Well, the poor idiots, you know what they didn’t know?  Nehemiah had the contract in his hand from the king to get whatever he needed from the forest of Lebanon or from the quarries.  He had it all okayed by the king and these Arabs didn’t know that. Nehemiah 2:20 “Then answered I them, and said unto them, The God of heaven, (See, that’s always what makes the difference.) The God of heaven, he will prosper us; therefore we His servants will arise and build: but ye (to the Arabs) ye have no portion; nor right, nor memorial, in Jerusalem!”  And, beloved, it’s just as valid today as it was back here in 606 B.C.  Don’t ever lose sight of the fact that it’s still the Promised Land and God is in control. All right, now time’s just about gone.  I didn’t intend to do any of that, but maybe there’s a reason for it.  Daniel chapter 9 again and we’ll move on.  Verse 3, that’s what’s on the board. Daniel 9:3-4a “And I set my face unto the Lord God, to seek by prayer and supplications, with fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes: 4. And I prayed unto the Lord my God, and made my confession, and said, O Lord, the great and dreadful God,…” Now if anybody knew how great and dreadful, by now Daniel with all of his visions was totally aware, wasn’t he?  So he knows what he’s talking about.  He has seen God evidenced in more ways than one over these previous 70 years. Daniel 9:4b “…keeping the covenant and mercy to them that love him, and to them that keep his commandments;” Now, what is that telling you?  Who is Daniel primarily writing to?  Well, his fellow Jews.  That’s what this is all for.  Even though we have a lot of Gentile prophecy in here, yet it is still Jewish ground. So the objects of his prayer are the people of Israel who are out there still in captivity and haven’t as yet made their way back to Jerusalem, although that’s certainly now in the immediate future.  So, we’re dealing primarily with the Jews under the Law, even though they’d been away from any Temple worship. Yet this is all Jewish language, “to them that love him and keep his commandments.”  That’s exactly what Jesus instructed the people of His day—keep the Commandments. I might be biting off more than I can chew.  I think I can bring you back.  I hope I can find it back in Matthew, where he told the rich young ruler—my goodness, I hope I can find it.  I think it is 19, but I’m not sure.  Well, I’m in Mark, no wonder I can’t find it!  Come back with me to Matthew chapter 19 verse 16.  Because I want you to see how identical the language is. Now, I don’t know how many of you got to see the program this morning?  I was getting ready, and I just got little bits and pieces of it.  Did you?  Did you see what I was driving at?  Oh, when you compare the language of James, it’s word-for-word what Moses said back there in Exodus.  Not even close to what Paul said.  But it all fits if you leave it where it belongs.  All right, now here’s another one.  Exact words that Daniel is using.  Oh, wow, down to two minutes. Matthew 19:16 “And, behold, one came and said unto him, Good Master, what good thing shall I do, (I think I emphasized that this morning, didn’t I.  Yeah.  Matthew 19 verse 16.) Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life?”  Now look at His answer. Matthew 19:17 “And Jesus

said unto him, Why callest thou me good?  there is none good but one, that is, God: but if thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments.”  Now that’s plain, isn’t it?  Why?  Because they were under Law.  They knew nothing of Grace.  And that was exactly the situation that Daniel is speaking of. Now flip back there for the minute that we have left.  Back to Daniel chapter 9, his praying is based on his love for God as a good law-keeping Jew, and he is keeping His commandments.  But the Nation?  Huh!  Anything but.  The Nation has just almost become degraded.  And we’ll take the next verse until the half hour is up.  Verse 5 and now he’s praying on behalf of his people—We—the Nation, Israel.  Now this doesn’t affect us Gentiles.  Don’t ever try to come back here and pray like this for us today.  We have Paul’s prayers to copy.  This is Daniel praying on behalf of his people Israel. Daniel 9:5 “We have sinned, and have committed iniquity, and have done wickedly, and have rebelled, even by departing from thy precepts and from thy judgments:” In other words, what’s he referring too?  All the facets of the Law which the Jewish people should have known, if they didn’t, even though they were in captivity. They still had the Law and Temple worship in their memory, if nothing else, because it had been drilled into them.  Just like cults do today.  They were taught those commandments and those rules and regulations from infancy on.  So it became second nature for them to keep all these things. Well, we’ll pick up here in the next half hour.

[sheepisreading]

Books I finished in Febuary 2023

The first three I grabbed at the same time at the boostore because I was bored and needed cheering up!

Naked, David Sedaris, 1997

This is an essay collection! I’d previously read Calypso by the same author and loved it. It’s a fun read, not hard to read or get into and doesn’t require too much concentration to read while still being very entertaining. I chose it as my next book for that reason, because I’ve been pretty fucking stressed recently and thought I could read it without spiralling. It worked! I loved it, it was funny and earnest, recounting amusing anecdotes and real learning moments. I love these kinds of essay collections heartfelt but self aware and comedic.

(Also, because I’ll probably never review it since I read it like six years ago: in the same vein I can only recommend Watsky’s essay collection “How to ruin everything”, probably even more than Naked! It’s I think less emotional or about emotions but I honestly loved it, it made me very happy, Watsky is awesome.)

Assembly, Natasha Brown, 2020

Fully picked this one up in the bookshop because the cover is pretty but after reading the blurb I immediately bought it. It’s fiction but clearly inspired by the authors life. The main character muses on her life so far and the decisions she’s made. It says clearly some shit that’s obvious but for some reason still an issue! The author clearly writes about the differences in class and upbringing between rich old money white people (her colleages) and hardworking new money black people (her). It’s about stuff we take for granted and casual racism. Very good ! It packs a punch in only a hundred pages.

Bluets, Maggie Nelson, 2009

Maggie Nelson writes “propositions” meaning short prose-poetry rambling-things about blue. I’m very into blue and gave a school presentation two years ago on the history of blue in art inspired by the vsauce video about it (which is amazing by the way, I rewatch it often), so I’ve been wanting to read it for a while. It’s good! Maggie Nelson writes beautifully about artists who have used the colour in the past (which is good inspiration) and her own relationship with blue, as well as with two people she cares about at the moment of writing. Her writing is absolutely beautiful! There is a lot of mention of romantic and physical longing which I cannot relate to, but that’s an issue I run into often and her way of discussing it remains interesting. It’s a beautiful book and its atmosphere stays with you.

The Nice House on the Lake vol. 1, James Tynion IV, 2021

Okay apparently the author is well known but I’ve never heard of him as I don’t really read comics and read like one graphic novel a year. As I understand it what I read (volume 1) spans the first six issues of the comic (out of 12). I grabbed it while browsing and loved the colours and was intrigued by the premise (having watched and thoroughly enjoyed Glass Onion not long before, I kinda thought it was a hardcore version of that, turns out: way more sci-fi shit in Nice House). I got home after my first day of internship, spent an hour doing jack shit and then picked this book up and read the whole thing straight. It’s amazing, there are fleshed out characters (some of them are queer yay), suspense, tension, emotion, it’s just really good! I will warn for like apocalypse, discussions of suicide and body horror though if that’s a thing you can’t go near! But if you can and are into weird sci-fi horror I recommend it! (I actually kind of like Walter I have to say, he just loves his friends !)

Steppenwolf, Hermann Hesse, 1927

!!! My mum is a big Hermann Hesse fan and always advocated for me reading one of his books. I happened upon this one at the used book market and immediately bought it because I noticed someone had anotated parts of it which. Yeah. Anyways, a bit of a slow start with the introduction written from an outside perspective from the narrator of the remainder of the book but absolutely hang in there! It's absolutely amazing; reflections on selfhood and the way we choose to live or not live our lives, connections with others, finding joy and excitement. It really did exceed my expectations. I thought there would be too much romance talk for my taste but it's so beautifully written that it's not an issue at all. It left a mark on me, that's for sure, it's a really powerful book.

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