#he makes that 1840s hair work for him

[clove-pinks]

Circa 1844 portrait of Midshipman Robert Stuart, USN. His midshipman commission, dated 19 October 1841, was signed by President Tyler.

#midshipman monday #midshipman #1840s #1844 #us navy #united states navy #us history #robert stuart #naval uniform #19th century #he makes that 1840s hair work for him #age of sail #age of steam #dressed to kill

[flawdchaos]

Pinky Promises

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1840

- this is a part 2/continuation of Spilled Drinks that was requested by anon.

Ever since the night Y/N had literally ran into Rosie at the bar she couldn’t seem to rid herself of a small smile, no matter what she did. When the girls made it back to their barracks that night, the ambushing of questions went on for well over an hour and even into the next morning.

“You have to talk to him again, Y/N. We both saw the way he looked at you when you were dancing.” Violet declared as she pinned her hair back under the white cap the Red Cross was gracious enough to bless them with. “You know Violet is right, Y/N. He’s already dreaming of a house back in the states and curly headed babies running around.”

“Hazel!” Y/N stopped midway through her dress buttons to lightly smack her friend on the arm, cheeks burning bright red. “I just met the man and for all we know, he doesn’t care and will never speak to me again.” Reaching down to grab her work satchel packed full of supplies.

“Well Y/N if that was the case I don’t believe Mr. Rosenthal would be waiting outside for you, would he?” Violet taunted, Y/N’s head snapping up to meet her friend's gaze. Violet stood peering out the window, fingers holding the blinds open enough to see outside. Hurriedly, Y/N rushed over the window trying her best to not trip over her own feet.

Sure enough there stood Robert Rosenthal - hands shoved in his pockets gaze searching the area around him.

“Go get him, tiger!” Hazel bent forward, laughing.

There truly was not much left in this world that could phase Y/N. She had seen it all in the cruel reality that was war. Men she had grown close to over the span of their visits to the nurses stations would come back battered and broken, some beyond repair - and despite all of what she saw, she was always able to ground herself. She had to. But now, she felt like a young school girl again. Her body was littered with anxiety - sweaty palms, shaking hands, and a racing heart. Why?

All because Robert Rosenthal was standing outside of the nursing barracks.

The squeaking of the barrack front door brought her back down to reality for a moment before the brightness of the sun had her quickly shielding her eyes.

“Rosie, is that you?” she more than obviously knew the answer but she still could not convince herself that it really was him.

“Uh, yeah”, he let out an awkward chuckle “I wanted to stop by this morning and see how things were going. Maybe walk you to the nurses station since I’m heading in that direction.” he was rambling. She stood, head cocked up to him, eyes squinting still from the sun. “I mean, unless, that makes you uh - uncomfortable.”

“I’d love the company. The commute can get a bit lonely.” that same small smile making its way back onto her face. Rosie extended his hand for Y/N to lead the way and with one quick glance back inside she saw her friends staring out at her, smiles plastered on each of their faces.

“What is on your itinerary, today?” Robert finally spoke up.

“The usual. Work until roughly 1900, probably later since there is a mission today and hope to make it back to the barracks in time to do some reading before I get up and do it all again tomorrow.” Y/N paused, kicking a few pebbles along the path before she continued. “How is the day looking for you?”

“Nothing too crazy but I am going up today.” he said nonchalantly, stopping Y/N in her place.

“You’re flying today?” she almost felt like throwing up. Maybe it was selfishness or chosen ignorance but Y/N had grown to hope the war wouldn’t need Robert anymore. She hoped she could protect him from it but all she could do was treat the wounds he would inevitably bring back to her.

“Yeah, debriefing starts at 0730. I’m heading over there once we get you where you need to be.” Her anxiety ridden mind could not help but imagine this was Rosie’s goodbye to her.

Y/N stepped forward to Rosie, grabbing his hands in hers as she looked up to maintain eye contact.

“I know I am just a nurse and you can’t tell me what you're doing up there or where you’re going but you have to pinky promise me you’ll be safe.” Dropping his left hand, she stuck her pinky out expectantly.

“Cross my heart.” he said, as their pinkies connected tightly.

As they continued along their walk, conversation came easily. The pair were still strangers by most accounts and each of them hated it. Y/N wanted to know everything there was to know about Robert Rosenthal and she had made it her plan to figure it out. Stopping outside the nurses station, Rosie removed his hat and began anxiously squeezing it in his hands.

“Be safe up there, fly boy.” Y/N teased, attempting to keep the mood as lightened as she could.

“As long as you do the same down here.” Y/N nodded.

“This mission will be my 20th. I’ve got a two day pass calling my name once my feet hit the ground. Let me treat you to a real introduction and dinner.” Rosie spoke quickly, nerves taking over the brunette.

“I would love that, Mr. Rosenthal.” rising on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss against his cheek. “You know where I'll be when you get back.” With that, Y/N took a step back and hurried inside to her awaiting duties.

There wasn’t any other time that Y/N had remembered the clock dragging by so slowly. The seconds ticking by was beginning to drive her up the wall and she had to busy herself with random duties. It was while she was restocking the gauze that she heard the all too familiar rumble of the engines overhead. She couldn’t make it to the window to count the returning planes but she hoped, with all her being, every single one of them returned. Hazel’s blonde curls popped around the closet corner, an all too familiar sign that the once quiet med bay was about to pure, unadulterated chaos.

“We’ve got boys already headed our way.” Hazel spoke softly, as if she tried to lessen the blow.

“How bad?” Y/N asked but was only met with a small head shake from the blonde - it was never a good sign.

When Y/N finally saw Robert Rosenthal, he appeared in the med bay doors adorning some cuts and scrapes across his face.

“I told you I would make it back, pretty lady. My leave starts at 0700 sharp. Let’s go to London.”

It was pure luck that her days off coincided with Rosie’s rendezvous and that Helen and Violet were great at covering for their friend. The train ride was where Y/N finally got to the bottom of who Robert Rosenthal truly was. Shortly after taking their seats, Y/N couldn’t help but start to prod.

“Alright, tell me everything Mr. Rosenthal. Give me all the dirty details.”, her cheeks flushed bright red ,”uh- not like that i mean tell me - uh - tell me something no one else knows about you or something.” She could have thrown herself off of the moving train at that point but Rosie just flashed her a smile and started speaking.

“Robert Rosenthal, from Brooklyn, New York. I was working in law before all this mess. I loved it. Graduated top of my class actually. But after Pearl Harbor, I couldn’t keep sitting on my ass while my country needed me so - I enlisted.”

“No secret wife or kids back at home?” Y/N poked.

“No ma’am. It’s just me. And - uh - as far as something no one on this side of the world knows about me - I was the captain for my college’s baseball team. I was trying to be the next DiMaggio.” a small chuckle escaping him as he finished his sentence. “Now what about you?” he asked, softly bumping his shoulder up against the girls.

“Nothing too crazy for me. I always loved helping folks, I was told my whole life I was meant to be a nurse. Once we started fighting this fight I knew I had to volunteer - sorta like you I guess. I’m not dropping bombs or toting a gun but knowing I patch you all up before you get back in the saddle is enough for me.” she sighed, turning up to glance at Rosie.

“And no secret husband out at war or kids back at home?” Rosie mimicked her early question. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “God no, Robert. Where I’m from I don’t turn heads.” He took a moment to look at her, maintaining eye contact before he took his large hand and grasped over hers before pulling them on to his lap.

“Well Y/N Y/L/N you turned mine - and maybe after we get all this nonsense settled with the bad guys, I can give you a tour of Brooklyn. I know just the place that I’d love to take you dancing.”

“I’m most certainly holding you to it but for now, let’s explore London.” raising her free hand to the platform approaching quickly.

“Yes ma’am. How would you feel about a picnic?”

“That sounds absolutely lovely.”

Rosie stood up as soon as the train hissed to a stop, busying himself with gathering the overnight bags each of them had packed. He stubbornly insisted on carrying both to the hotel around the corner. Y/N knew they would have to enter as colleagues and nothing more, separating as they went to their respective rooms to drop off their bags before meeting again in the hallway.

“Let’s go find sandwiches.” he spoke quietly and Y/N nodded, falling in line behind him as they walked past the lobby and out to the streets. For the first time Y/N really took in the size of the city around her and she couldn’t even help that her jaw was almost to the floor. The Germans had done their share of damage but it didn’t lessen the experience for her at all.

“What is it, Y/N?” Rosie questioned, taking a step towards her.

“I’ve never seen a city like this before. This is just - wow.” Rosie broke out into an ear-to-ear grin. “It is awesome but wait until I take you to Brooklyn. We’ll catch the train to New York City and I’ll make sure you take the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty.”

“You promise?” Y/N broke from her trance to look up as Rosie smiled and turned to her fully, sticking out her left hand.

“I pinky promise.” he said, watching as Y/N connected their hands tightly. “You better believe it. I haven’t broken a promise yet.”

AUTHORS NOTE - hi friends, i hope everyone enjoyed this little part two to spilled drinks. there may be a part 3 to this little series if it’s wanted. please feel free to give me feedback or more requests as my inbox as open. i’m still new to this so i appreciate anything :)

#masters of the air #masters of the air imagines #masters of the air x reader #john egan #gale cleven #rosie rosenthal imagines #rosie rosenthal x reader #rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #robert rosenthal imagine #bucky egan x reader #buck cleven x reader #john egan imagine #gale cleven imagine

[eneablack]

I SHIFTED TO HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA

before the shift:

i watched hotel transylvania 4 with my cousin and my mind instantly went “i love these movies i really gotta shift there, it would be so cool” and i went to sleep making scenarios of me in that reality without actually trying or putting effort (mind that i had a script for that reality made like a year ago but i forgot about that so i just went into the shift while basically being blindfolded lol) but i mean, it worked.

︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶

the shift:

i didn’t realise i shifted till like one hour later, i woke up in my supposedly room and the walls were a darker shade with bricks/stones, as i said i didn’t notice the change because it was just normal to be there so i just went to change in some clothes and get ready to go downstairs. then i went to the dining hall and had breakfast with a friend called Victor (he’s not in the movies) and my sister Mavis (she’s my twin sister actually, we look a lot like each other but the difference is that she’s a girl with black hair and i’m a boy with white hair lol). after that i went back to my room and did my daily tarot reading, and when i was reading my cards that’s when i realised i had shifted (tarot cards are not like in this reality, they tell you way more and are like magical if you’re a witch).

︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶

some facts about that reality:

my name was Aineías Dracula and i was a half vampire half witch, son of Count Dracula and Martha Dracula (she was half witch too)

it was the 18th november 1840 when i shifted there so two days before my birthday (i apparently had to become 120 years old)

for some reason the hotel was in italy (where i live in cr)

i was friends with everyone in the hotel because, contrary to cr, i made my presence very seen and had good social skills. i had a best friend called Victor and he was the son of Frankenstein, he was around my age and he was very tall.

︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶꒦꒷꒷꒦︶

the young man i met:

the night of my birthday, the 20th, i sneaked out and went to a little village some kilometres away from the hotel, and there i met a boy. i was trying to fit in with the few humans that were there, even if i was lowkey scared but mostly excited, and i stumbled across this goldsmith shop. it had such amazing pieces of jewellery so i was with my palm all over the glass trying to get a closer look at a ruby necklace. but then i heard a gentle low voice telling me to step away from the glass and when i look over the dispay window i see this young man looking at me, so i excused myself but he asked something like if i was interested in any of the pieces and stood up to come closer to me.

i was unsure whether to stay there as my dad would’ve killed me if he found out, but i felt adrenaline at that moment and tbh the boy looked nice and genuine so i just stayed still and nodded, so he started showing me different necklaces with some beautiful stones. i was really interested in the ruby one but then i remembered i didn’t have anything to pay with, so i was about to leave when he asked if i wasn’t from there, and then we just started conversating.

he was named Ilya and he was a human of course, he told me he was half russian and had to migrate because of some illness infestation and his dad was italian so they moved here. he was around 24 years old and he had jet black long hair, with very dark eyes.

after some time i had to go back and as i was going he told me he could not give me the nacklace for free even if it was my birthday lol but instead i could decide for a small stone, but i didn’t really knew which one to choose so when i just let him decide he gave me a small malachite telling me it was my birthstone and it was his favourite when he was back in russia. then we said goodbye and that was it.

#shifting realities #reality shifting #desired reality #shifting #shifted #shifting stories #success story #hotel transylvania #shifting to hotel transylvania

[vintagegeekculture]

One of the things that dignified peer reviewed medical journals have done more than once to “let their hair down,” is that around Christmastime, they often write editorials or publish journal articles explaining what they think was wrong with Tiny Tim from Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. This is the equivalent of a day where your lame office job encourages you to come to work with a crazy Mexican sombrero.

Typical of this would be the American Journal of Disabled Children, who in 1992 (December issue, obviously), argued that Tiny Tim had Renal Tubular Acidosis, which stunts growth and if left untreated, is lethal, but if caught, could be cured by 1840s medicine. Actually, it’s a pretty good case of deductive medicine.

A little more high effort was an editorial in the Journal of Infectious Diseases from December 1997, they make up a fictional story that the grave of Tiny Tim – dead at age 40 – was unearthed and that he had Potts’ Disease or Tuberculosis of the Spine, which ultimately killed him decades later. That sounds tragic, but I suppose a happy ending is only happy depending on where you choose to stop telling it. I wonder if the person who wrote this was familiar with Philip Jose Farmer’s attempted genealogies of 19th Century adventure characters, like how he argued Sir Denis Nayland Smith, enemy of Fu Manchu, was a nephew of Sherlock Holmes through his younger sister. Win Scott Eckert, the most famous fan of PJF, is a medical doctor. So, hmm…

PJF fans were really ahead of their time in that they had that urge Marvel fans do, where they were “good at cataloguing, but not at synthesis.”

#christmas carol #charles dickens #medicine #peer review

[vodika-vibes]

Hi hi ~🙋‍♀️

May I please have a scenario for female reader x Sev with Ambrosia and Yellow Orchid where she's kind of (obsessed) an admirer of his, sketches him and writes VERY STEAMY romance stories about him in a journal/sketchpad to try and "curb her cravings for him" because she's shy and worried he won't like her back or heaven forbid might think she's a creep, buuut~ he comes across it somehow x'D and yeh, please make it nsfw or at least steamy if you can, but go with wherever your inspiration leads you of course! Please and thank you either way. ;v; P.S. If this is too boring/uninspiring; I'm happy to send in a different one. No worries.🥰

The Journal

Summary: You work IT for the GAR, and through that you met Sev, the actual love of your life. Only, because he doesn't know you exist, you spend your time sketching and writing sippets about him. One night, he sees your journal.

Pairing: Clone Commando Sev x F!Reader

Word Count: 1840

Prompt: Ambrosia - love is reciprocated, Yellow Orchid - New Beginnings

Warnings: Some smut, some spice

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I hope this is close to what you wanted? I kept starting it and then having to change things to make the plot work.

You bit your lower lip as you read over the sentence you just wrote, considering your word usage critically. It’s always important to make sure that the words flow properly, even though you’re the only person who’s ever going to read it.

What you’re doing is weird.

It is. You know it, but you can’t help yourself.

After all, it’s not like Sev would ever deign to look at you…let alone do anything that you fantasize about with you.

Which means that your own release is by sketching scenes, and then writing the scenes that you sketched.

It’s awful and humiliating. But since it’s just you, and since you’re so very careful about making sure that your sketchbook is always safe, then you don’t mind half as much as you normally would.

You critically eye the words again.

Sev slides his hands down your sides, whispered praises falling from his lips as you sink down his hard length, his pupils flared with arousal-

Ugh. It’s garbage. 

Utter trash.

You erase some of the words, consider for a moment, and then write them again.

It’s still trash, but your brain doesn’t seem to have the right words at the moment. Maybe you need to take a break. You set the protector over the pencil drawing, and snap your sketchbook shut, and you slide it into your work bag absently.

Maybe you’ll have the words after a long night of night shift work.

Probably not, you have to replace and update all of the computers on base tonight.

You quickly check to make sure that your uniform is clean and neat looking, and then you grab your bag and your datapad, and you head out the apartment.

You live close enough to base that you can walk, and, honestly, you couldn’t catch a cab at this time of night anyway. Not to mention, the walk helps clear your mind and prepares you for the night you’re about to have.

As soon as you’re on base, you make your way to the office all of IT has to share, set your bag on your desk, and grab your datapad. Your office mate Holly, the other member of IT who drew the short straw for the overhaul, greets you with a tired smile.

“Are you ready?” She asks as she pulls her long blonde hair into a tail.

“Does it matter if I’m not?” You ask with an amused grin as you stick a pen in your hair.

“Not at all,” Holly replies with a laugh. “Come on, I have the key to where they’re keeping the new computers.”

“I don’t suppose the boss told you what to do with the old computers?” You ask dryly as you trail after her down the hall.

“He said, quote, “you know what to do you stupid girl” end quote.” Holly replies with a roll of her eyes, “So I’m guessing we need to stack the old computers where the new ones are.”

“Makes sense.”

Holly leads you through the winding halls, until she stops at the storage room door, and she checks her datapad. “Um…here, this is the one.” She waves the keycard over the panel and keys in the door code, and you push the door open and peer into the room.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“There are a lot of computers here.” You say with a sigh.

Holly peers over your shoulder, and she sighs as well. “We might as well start loading up carts.”

Three hours later, you’re alone in the IT office, working on disconnecting the computers and hooking up the new ones, when the door opens. “IT is closed for the night,” You say, your voice muffled since you’re under a desk. “Oh, come on, disconnect you stupid piece of-”

“I know,” The deep voice of Sev startles you enough that you pull yourself out from under your desk, “I was just coming to check on you, since Miss Holly nearly fell off her ladder.”

“Oh. Well I’m not doing any of the ladder work, I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“About heights. And falling.”

He chuckles, “Reasonable,” He looks around the room, “You need any help with anything?”

“...can you put that box on my cart for me?”

Sev chuckles again, “Yeah, I have you mesh’la.” He picks up the box, which has an old computer in it, and moves it to the cart, bumping your desk as he does so.

Just as Sev turns to leave the room, he pauses. “Huh, looks like someone lost their journal.”

“Journal?” You glance at him, and then pale when you see your sketchbook in his hands, “Ah! Wait! That’s mine…and it’s personal-” He flips open the journal and you feel a hot flush of shame.

With him wearing his helmet, you have no way to know what he’s thinking, though you’re not sure you’d be able to tell even if he wasn’t wearing his helmet. 

“I…I can explain-” You offer weakly, but you trail off, because you don’t have an explanation. Not a good one, at least. 

Sev’s shifts slightly, and you have the feeling that he’s staring at you, “Can I hold onto this?”

“I’d…rather you didn’t.”

“What if I promise that I’m the only one who will see it?”

You hesitate, “Are you confiscating it?” You ask anxiously.

“No.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, “I promise you’ll get it back in the same condition as it is now.”

“...okay.” The sketchbook vanishes into one of his many pockets, and then Sev is gone, and you are stuck trying to finish the overhaul while knowing that the man that you’ve been crushing on, and fantasizing over, now has access to all of your fantasies.

Needless to say, you’re a little anxious.

Three days later, you’re still really anxious. 100% because Sev still hasn’t returned your sketchbook to you and while you were worried before, it’s been ramped up. A lot.

So when you get a visitor when you’re working on a commission for someone, your heart drops. 

You check to see who’s there, and when you see Sev, you get even more nervous, your mind running though dozens of different scenarios, all of them worse than the one before it.

But, slowly, you open the door. 

“Um…Hi.”

He’s dressed in casual clothes today, and while normally that would be something for you to enjoy, you’re far too anxious to actually enjoy it.

He gazes at you for a moment, “Can I come in?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry,” You move to the side and he steps into your apartment. You shut the door behind him, and then nervously step around him, “Can I get you something?”

Sev is quiet for a moment, his gaze flickering around your apartment. It’s covered in various pieces of artwork that you’ve done, and then he looks at you and offers you your notebook. “Sorry it took me so long to return it.”

You take the journal back and fold your arms around it, “Um…you’re not…mad?”

“No.”

“Uh…that’s good, but why?”

He folds his arms over his chest, “Why would I be?”

You glance down at the notebook, and then back at him, slightly lost, “Uh…you did see some of the things I sketched, right?”

“I did. I looked at all of it.” Sev replies, and then a slow grin crosses his face, “Like I said, it’s in the same condition you gave it to me in. But, I did add a page, you should take a look.”

You watch him suspiciously, but open the journal, flipping until you find the loose page he’s talking about. It takes you a moment to recognize what you’re looking at, but then your face flames.

It’s you. And him. With him balls deep inside you.

You turn your wide gaze up to Sev, and he smirks, “What, you thought you were the only one with seemingly impossible fantasies?”

You glance back at the picture, “Seemingly impossible?”

“Sure, why would a pretty thing like you be interested in a mere clone?”

Your head snaps up, “I have never thought that! Ever!” 

Sev smirks and takes a step closer to you, before he carefully flips to another page, where a nearly identical picture to the one that he sketched sits on the page, “I know that now. You didn’t get my tattoos, but that’s okay, you’ve never seen me shirtless. Yet.”

“Yet?”

His gaze is very intense, “Yet.” Sev agrees, “Unless you’d rather wait before we make any of these,” He taps the journal, “Come true.”

“I think I missed a whole part of this conversation,” You finally say.

Sev chuckles and takes your journal from your hands, tossing it on the table in the middle of the room, and then he pins you against the wall with his arm folded over your head. 

He lowers his head so that you can feel his breath against your skin, “I’m saying,” Sev murmurs, “That I feel the same way about you as you feel about me.” Your lips part, “And I’m saying that I want to make all of those fantasies come true.”

He lowers his head so that his lips are right over yours, “What do you say, sarad?”

You blink at him, and then lean up to catch his lips with yours.

You feel him grin as he presses against you, and then he nips your lower lip and soothes the spot with his tongue. 

Sev kisses with the same intensity that he does everything, and you’re not really surprised when you feel his hands dipping under your clothes to caress your bare skin. 

He lifts you with ease, and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Where’s your bedroom, sarad?” Sev asks, his voice a low rumble.

“Down the hall, first door on the left.”

Sev catches your lips with his again as he walks down the hall and pushes your bedroom door open. He lays you down on your bed and follows you down, kneeling between your spread legs, before he breaks the kiss.

He pulls his shirt off, and immediately pulls your hands to his chest, and you take the opportunity to explore him with great enthusiasm. He kisses you again as you explore him with your fingers, realizing that you’re going to need to wait before you can explore him with your eyes.

“Before we go any further,” Sev murmurs against your lips, “I want to know-”

“Yes?”

“Is this going to be a one time thing, or is it going to be a relationship?”

It takes you a moment to process the question, “Why?”

“Because I’m going to fuck my girlfriend a hell of a lot differently than I’m going to fuck a one night stand.” Sev sucks a mark high on your neck, “Take your pick, sarad.”

“I’d like to be your girlfriend,” You say through a quiet moan as he sucks another mark onto your neck.

Sev grins, “A good choice.” He tugs on your shirt, “Strip, sarad. I’m going to make you feel amazing.”

#star wars #tcw #vodika vibes follower celebration #clone commando sev x reader #sev x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #18+ fic #clone thirsting #answered asks

[kristannafever]

Second Chances - 4

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: Explicit WC: 1840

Chapter Index

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

Kristoff’s mind was clouded by lust.  Three days after he’d had the absolute pleasure of making Anna come undone in his arms, their date – while fun as hell – was nothing compared to her lips on his.  He didn’t even have his front door shut and she was on him, kissing him with incredible passion and making him crazy with desire.

It still pissed him off to think of what she went through with her ex.  The guy had to be fucked in head to say those things about her.  Anna was the most sensual thing he’d ever had the pleasure of being with.  And they hadn’t even had sex yet!  He was sure that would be one for the record books.

“I… need to… touch you,” she said between kisses, pushing him down his hallway towards his bedroom.

He chuckled against her mouth.  “Only if I get to touch you first.”

She yanked her head back and looked at him.  “That wasn’t the deal.”

“What deal?” he shrugged playfully.  “To tell you the honest truth, Anna, I have to admit I am a little too selfish to let you touch me without allowing me that pleasure first.”  He leaned in, his mouth close to her ear.  “And I plan on using my tongue this time.”

He pulled his head back to look at her face and chuckled again with how her eyes were wide with anticipation.  He could tell that she wanted it and shit did that ever make him hot.  Anna pinched her bottom lip in her teeth and nodded, then turned and dragged him to the bedroom. 

They shooed Sven out and shut the door, then Kristoff wasted no time in putting his lips back on hers and reached between them to free her of her jeans.  He had them undone and was sliding his palms down her bare thighs, taking the underwear with them when she pulled away from his lips.

“I actually don’t know if I am ready for this,” she said quietly, brow furrowed slightly. 

“Can I ask why?” he prodded gently. 

“Because… no one has ever… I mean, I’ve never had anyone’s mouth…”

His eyebrows rose in disbelief.  “You haven’t?” 

She shook her head.  “No.  And I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do and-”

Kristoff let out a breathy chuckle.  “You don’t need to do anything, Anna.  You lay down and relax.  And before you tell me you’re apprehensive because I can see that you are, I need you to know that I want to do this so badly I am practically salivating.”

“You are?” she asked, tilting her head down and looking up at him rather seductively. 

He let out a slow breath.  “Yes.  And now that I know I have the honor of being your first, I have to say I want to do it even more.”

Anna swallowed visibly and then nodded.  He smirked at her and pulled her in for another passionate and lengthily kiss, then he finished what he had started and get her the rest of the way our of her jeans and laid her down on the bed. 

He looked down at her, how she was eyeing him with pure seduction.  “You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, and leaned over to slid her panties down her gorgeous legs.  Once free, he tossed them over his shoulder and ran his palms up her thighs, twisting them inward and gently pushing her legs apart. 

Kristoff took in the sight of her and it drove him wild.  He had to take a moment and pull back off the bed to free himself of his own jeans for how much his cock was straining painfully against them.  Leaving his boxers on until later, he leaned back down over Anna and took his time, gently kissing and caressing her until she was whimpering for him to begin, so he dragged his tongue up her opening and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. 

He did it twice more before he put his lips around her clit and sucked gently.  This time he got a long moan and she said, “Fuck.”  He smiled and stuck out his tongue, letting it dance around her clit before flicking the end of it against her.

Her hands wound up into his hair and tugged gently as he worked his mouth on her.  This was making him harder than he thought possible and he was a little relieved that it didn’t take too long before she was panting and telling him that she was getting close. 

Kristoff shifted and brought his hand up, pushing one and then two of his fingers into her while his tongue worked on her clit.  She swore again and moaned his name, and a moment later she was curled up, caught in an intense orgasm. 

When it was over her whole body fell slack onto the bed.  Kristoff straightened and watched her chest heaving up and down, wishing that she was completely bare so that he could see her breasts.  He had great anticipation for when he might see her fully naked but he was not going to rush anything.  He would be happy even if she wanted to stop the intimacy right now, except the way she was looking up at him made him shudder with desire. 

“Now I get to have fun,” she said as she sat up and shimmied off the bed and pointed at it.  “You, down, now.”

Kristoff chuckled and sat on the edge of the mattress.  “We can stop if you want, Anna.”  It was futile but he still had to say something.

She put her hands on her hips.  “No way, mister.  It’s my turn now.”

A thought occurred to him.  “You’re just going to stick with touching right, Anna?  I don’t want to feel you have to rush into anything.”

Her face turned into a bit of a frown.  “I wasn’t sure… I thought maybe that I would do the same to you.  I… I want to.”

He eyed her and chose his words carefully.  “I want you to do what you feel comfortable with, Anna.  Please, just promise me that you will?”

She smiled at him in a heartbreakingly sweet way and nodded.  Then she leaned over and helped him wiggle out of his boxers.

Anna let out a quick breath.  “Um, can I just say that you are bigger than I thought you were.”

He chuckled.  “Am I now?”

She licked her lips and her eyes went to him.  “Yes.  And you’re gorgeous too.  I, um, haven’t really seen one that’s… um…”

“Uncircumcised?” he asked. 

“Yeah.  If I’m not doing something right, can you-”

“Anna,” Kristoff said, feeling his face heat with anger for thinking about what that piece of shit ex had said to her.  “Promise me you will forget all that shit and just do what you feel comfortable with, okay?”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“I mean it, Anna.  You turn me on in ways that would make it impossible for me not to enjoy myself.  Fuck, if you just keep looking at me, I’ll probably pop I am so horny right now.”

Anna gave him a big smile shining with humor and he was relieved to see it.  “Alright,” she said, pushing him back onto the bed and crawling over him as he shifted backwards to make room for her.  She sat criss-cross between his spread legs and started dragging her fingertips up and down his cock with a feather light touch.

He moaned softly, and then she wrapped her hand around him and he uttered a strangled “fuck.”

He’d been watching her, making sure she was comfortable, then she started stoking him and his eyes shut on their own as he laid his head back on the bed.  He felt his body melt into the mattress for how good it gelt to have her hands on him.

“Anna… that feels so-”

He felt her tongue dance on the tip of his cock and his eyes opened and his head shot up to look at her.  She grinned at him, and then keeping eye contact, she opened her mouth and took the tip of him in slowly.

It turned his mind to mush.  He watched, feeling helplessly lost in desire as she stopped for a moment and shifted onto her knees between his legs, then went right back to where she left off.  His entire body twitched as she worked her mouth agonizingly slowly down his cock. 

She’d taken half of him in when she started to pull her mouth back, sucking in her cheeks and putting the pressure he desperately wanted on his sensitive and highly aroused appendage.  His head fell back to the bed and he let out a shuddering moan. 

“Fuck… Anna.  Holy shit…”

She started moving the grip she had on the base of his cock up and down to meet her mouth.  Before he knew what was happening, he was a whisper away from coming.

He looked up at her.  “Anna, I’m really close.”

Her eyes flicked up to his through her eyelashes and she smiled around his cock, then resumed what she’d been doing.  Kristoff was helpless to look away as his abdomen tightened and he was about to explode.  A second later he did, and his head fell back to the pillow, letting out a soft cry, drowning in pleasure with the sheets at his side gripped tightly into his fists. 

When his thoughts finally returned to him, he could not believe how good that was.  Any man would be a demented fuck to not find that the most pleasurable experience outside of actual sex.  He sat up slowly, his head swimming as he did so.

He looked at her.  She was smiling at him softly, and he realized that he was in love with her. 

“So, I take it that was good?” she asked quietly. 

Kristoff laughed.  “Anna, that was so good, I’m dizzy.  No joke.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded.  “I have never, and I promise you I mean this, I have never been given a blow job that good. Ever.”

Her smile widened.  “I just did what felt right.”

“Good.  I am glad you did that, Anna.  I always want you to do that, okay?  And please promise me you will tell me if something doesn’t feel right.”

“I will.  And I want you to know that I did what felt right because you make me feel comfortable.  I trust you, Kristoff.  I trust you completely.”

That hit him in a way he was not expecting.  He moved himself so that he was sitting beside her and pulled her into a hug with emotion pressing on his throat.  “I am glad, Anna.  I trust you too.”

She nodded and hugged him tighter.  He pulled her closer as well and thought again about how he was most definitely in love with her. 

---

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Next Chapter

#cee wrote this mess #second chances #kristoff #anna #kristanna #kristanna modern au #this one is short because the next chapter is the main event

[spidercookie18]

𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕃𝕆𝕊𝕋 𝔹𝕆𝕐𝕊 ℍ𝔼𝔸𝔻ℂ𝔸ℕ𝕆ℕ𝕊

TLB YCRYCH AU: Origins

The boys’ origin stories: how they met, where they were born, how old they are, and who they were before they died.

I am going to leave the years born a little vague, I like to imagine them a bit older than they are in the movies so there’s some discrepancies in the years.

Warnings: Death, mild gore, general violence, substance abuse, talks of suicide, loss of family, loss of children, this is seriously not for the feint of heart. MINORS DNI

David – Born 1840's, Montreal, Canada. His father and mother met while he was abroad in Canada. She got pregnant, and his father promised to return to her but never did. So, it was just her and David while he was a human. He’d watch her work odd jobs to make ends meet, and he tried to help when he could. She raised him not to be a beggar and to work for his meals. She was kind and courteous, and so was he. She got sick when he was still little, and before he was 10, she’d passed. He was the first to find her, and the only thing he can remember about her was she had curly hair. She’d arranged for him to go stay with his aunt and uncle down in the states. He left with his few possessions, and a box his mother told him not to open until he was 13. His aunt and uncle lived near modern day Amarillo, Texas. They were strict, and not nearly as kind as his mother had assured him, they’d be. They had him work as a farm hand; it was tough work. His hands became calloused, his back ached most days, and he resented his father for abandoning him. When David turned 13, he opened the box. It was a drawing of his mother and his father, a death certificate, and a medal. He realized his mother knew he was never coming back, and for a long time he couldn’t understand she did it to spare his feelings. He began to hide his feelings, and to keep his mind off his family, he took up gunslinging. His uncle taught him, and when he realized David had a talent for it, he tried to convince him to become a Texas Ranger.

David became a crazy good gunslinger and misses his time as a cowboy, which is why he still wears boots with spurs. He wanted to try and do right by his mother and father, so he wore the medal under his coat. He kept it with him always and tried to be a good man and help people. Because he was a young man at the time, he was drafted into the Civil War. You can imagine he fought for the union or the confederate, it doesn't matter, wasn't his war and he didn't want to fight. His allegiance was to his comrades and to not dying on the battlefield. David considered marrying just so he wouldn't be drafted, but he ended up on the frontline before he could weasel his way out. The other soldiers in the barracks became his brothers. He struggled being constantly surrounded by the dead and dying, and he felt sick watching the other men around him die, which is why he is so fiercely loyal to protecting his brothers now. David for sure has PTSD, and sometimes he still has nightmares about it, though one, if not all, of the other boys is always nearby and comfort him. He thought of his family during this time, how his father would have gone through the same feelings during war; he always felt like a coward for not wanting to die. During one battle he got shot in the stomach, he was brought to the medical tent and with the doctors being overwhelmed, there was little they could do but ease his pain as he died. Sweating, pale, and weak he saw a tall doctor walk in. On his deathbed is where he met Max, but he was so delirious from opium and morphine that he thought Max was his father. Max read his thoughts, and when David called out to him, calling him ‘father’, Max decided he was the one he’d turn. Max only saved David, over all the other dying men in the tent. The first few years after he was turned, David still tried to help people. He thought he could help his fellow soldiers in the barracks, or people on the streets. Sadly, wherever he tried to help, it was thrown back in his face. He soon saw the worst in people, he saw the horrors that hate could make them do, and he let that break down his spirit. Over the years, David accepted his fate, and they moved around the country as he was raised up a vampire. Max wanted to start a few businesses across the country so they would have plenty of money through the years, and that’s how David came to meet the other boys.

Marko - Born 1880's, Florence, Italy. His family immigrated to America when he was little. He was one of the younger children, and because of this he was allowed to misbehave and be mischievous. He came from a big family, many brothers and sisters and they settled around Boston, Mass. Being from a poor immigrant family he learned how to sew and do patchwork from his mother. How to fix his clothes and make them last. Marko and his Italian family were very involved in the church, and he was an altar boy when he wasn’t out causing problems. He for sure was a menace around the neighborhood and used to fight with upper-class/uppity kids who were racist or xenophobic to him, his family, and his culture. You can imagine him sitting on the kitchen table while his mother pressed frozen meat to his black eye, “sei troppo selvaggio anche per il diavolo” she would scold him, and he would laugh.

He has one of the sadder backstories, fair warning. Marko lost his family to a house fire, most of the block burned down actually and he lost all the people he knew. He was the only one to survive because he was out causing problems at the time. When he came back, he saw the fire and didn't have the strength to drag anyone out. He always blamed himself for their death, maybe if he hadn’t been out, or had he come back sooner he could have saved them, or anyone. Marko was able to find a few things from the rubble and he kept them wherever he went. Marko stopped going to church during this time. He bumbled around the streets and alleyways for some time after this and used to make money in street fights; but he always prayed for death. One cold winter night, David and Max happened upon him. When David first saw Marko, he didn't realize it was a person. He just saw the mismatched patchwork moving around and thought it was rats under newspaper or something like that. He heard Marko’s thoughts, praying to someone in a language he didn’t understand. ‘Mi dispiace mamma, ma fa così freddo. Ti prego, non vedo l'ora di vederti...’ David begged Max to save him and refused to leave his side - he actually threw a huge fit and made a spectacle in the alleyway until Max agreed to help the boy. Fun fact, Marko's jean jacket is actually David's jacket that he wrapped him in the first night they met. if you can call that fun, and can read this between your tears :)

Dwayne - Born 1900's, St. Petersburg, Russia. He was already a young man when Max, David, and Marko strolled into town. He was engaged to his childhood sweetheart, and she had a bun in the oven. Dwayne and his brother were raised by their grandmother. His parents immigrated from Russia to New York, but they got sick and did not survive the travel. Dwayne was the only one in his family that did not get sick, and he took care of his brother until he passed when he was a teen. His grandmother made sure that he remembered his culture, and where he came from. The other families in the town were not kind to Dwayne and his brother and grandmother for this reason. No matter how much they beat him, he still stood tall. There was one person who was kind to them, no matter what. A girl Dwaynes age, she came from a rich family and always told him stories of her grandfather’s travels. She used to call him ‘her Jaguar’, because when he would fight, he would send the other kids to the hospital. When his grandmother passed, his sweetheart was the last family he had. He shared his culture with her, and her family disowned her when they found out she was to be wed to him. Her and Dwayne didn’t care though, even if the whole town was against them being together, they were still gonna do it. Sure, they had to deal with mean comments, snide remarks in store and in town, or once when men tried to corner Dwayne in an alley after work, but they were set on being together. He was head over heels for her, and when she got pregnant, he spent all his money on things for her and for their future baby. She actually would have to scold him for buying her so many things, saying he was too frivolous, but he wanted to spoil her. She always told him he needed to save his money, and he would call it “their money.” She hated that he would never spend money on himself; and when she said she wanted to buy him a new jacket, or boots he would laugh, saying that he wasn’t cold, that he was actually hot. Dwayne was a carpenter, or a masoner, something where he would get to use his strength to work, and work he did. He wanted to make sure life was comfortable for his new family, so he did overtime wherever he could. She was so round, and when the doctor told them they would actually be having twins, Dwayne thought his heart would burst from his chest. One night he was coming home late, as usual, excited to press his ear to her belly and listen to the heartbeats of his unborn children. He returned home to find the door to their home not fully shut. His heart sank when he saw her on the floor, pale skin and covered in blood. A group of men in town had enough of them, they decided a simple message wasn’t enough. They were going to stop them one way or another. Dwayne didn’t care about the broken glass on the floor, or how some of their things were missing. No, they stole from him the one thing he cared about, and he cursed himself for not being there to protect her, to protect his family. He clung to her limp body and wailed into the night. Dwayne knew exactly who’d done it, and they locked him up for trying to confront them. When he got out, he tried to drink himself to death, and stumbling around in the dark of night, he happened upon a tall man with glasses. He was sure the man before him was death, come to drag him to hell. But instead, the man spoke, he asked Dwayne if he wanted revenge on the ones who took his life from him. Drunkenly, stupidly, he said yes. He got his revenge, but Dwayne hated Max for keeping him from death. Sure, his love was avenged, but he would forever be kept from her now. He kept the red flag she wore as a scarf around her hair in his back pocket. Now, whenever he saw a child, he thought of her, and the babies he would never get to hold…

Paul – Born 1930’s, Green Bay, Wisconsin. Paul loved his little sister; he did everything he could to make her feel safe and keep her happy. When she smiled, she looked just like their mother, and he missed her so. Their father was a drunk, to say the least. He was always standoffish, but when their mother died, he really fell off the deep end. His father always took it out on them because they ‘looked so much like her’ especially his sister. Paul did what he could to keep him off her back, and took the brunt of the beatings when their father couldn’t put the bottle down. Paul took to sleeping in her room with the mattress against the door, so he couldn’t get near her. His father would say horrible things to them, and when they cried, he would tell them he wished they’d killed themselves instead of her. Often times, they would go visit with their grandparents, at least that was a place they could get warm food. Paul was embarrassed for people to know what was happening in their home, so, they hid it from people. Paul took jobs where he could, raking leaves, shoveling driveways, and when he was old enough, he took a job at the movie theater to help pay for things for him and his sister. Because of this, he would let his sister sit in the theatre after school so she wouldn’t have to go home. Him and her would often sit in the lobby, behind the concession counter, or in the ticket booth so he could help her with her homework. More often than not, she ended up helping him with his homework. He always promised to take her away from there. He would read her magazines about what California was like, and she joked how he was meant to be a ‘surfboard rider’. When Paul had scraped up enough money for himself, he bought some cheap gear and tried out for hockey. He made the team, and his grandparents and his sister would cheer him on. He was damn good at it too, and it was a great way for him to get his frustrations out. He bought his sister a pair of skates for her 13th birthday, and he took her skating on the frozen lake behind their house. He’d warned her never to go on the ice without him around, but one day when he was late getting home from work she went out on her own. He told her to wait for him in the lobby, but she wanted to go skate. There weren’t any movies playing that she was interested in, so she headed home. She grabbed her skates from home and passed her dad on the way out the door. She told him Paul was out there with her and got on the ice. When Paul got home, his father asked how long he intended to keep his sister skating outside. Paul rushed to the back yard, and clung to the wire fence, the hole in the dead center of the lake let him know…

He left home soon after that. She was the last thing keeping him there, and he couldn’t take his father blaming him for her death. He tried to hitchhike to California, he took her teddy bear with him so that she could go to. They never did manage to get her body out from under the ice, at least not while Paul was there. He got caught in a blizzard in Salt Lake City, Utah around Christmas, and he snuck inside a hotel for warmth. Max had left the boys to their own devices for the night, God knows he’d grown tired of their shenanigans, and Dwayne was doing everything in his power to fuck with him. With the money they’d snagged from people on their ‘tour’ across the states, the boys were in a nice hotel lobby, causing a ruckus. Marko noticed a hand pop up from behind a counter and snatch some food. He went to investigate and found a dirty, grimy looking Paul. Marko opened his mouth to say something, but Paul begged him not to tell anyone. Marko invited him to join them for the night and Paul explained that he was trying to get to California, and why he had the bear. He thanked them when they didn’t laugh and cried when they offered to help him get there. David looked into his soul, he saw the same pain they all held, and decided then and there that he would be their brother.

The boys have been inseparable ever since.

#the lost boys #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #tlb david #tlb marko #tlb #tlb dwayne #tlb paul

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 22

1823 – The American author, abolitionist, and soldier Thomas Wentworth Higginson was born today in Cambridge, Massachusetts (d.1911). The Higginson clan was quite pedigreed. Thomas was a descendant of a Puritan minister, a member of the Continental Congress, and the founder of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. He was active in the American Abolitionism movement during the 1840s and 1850s, identifying himself with disunion and militant abolitionism. During the Civil War, he served as colonel of the 1st South Carolina Volunteers, the first federally authorized African-American regiment, from 1862-1864. Following the war, Higginson devoted much of the rest of his life to fighting for the rights of freed slaves, women and other disenfranchised peoples.

Higginson has largely been forgotten to history except in the last few years when Brenda Wineapple's book White Heat was published to great accolades. In the book Wineapple posits an intense relationship between Higginson and his penpal, the poet Emily Dickinson. They only met twice but the title of Wineapple's book suggests a more intimate relationship. Interestingly (or not) Wineapple makes no mention in her book of William Hurlbert, the handsome Southern journalist that Higginson was just crazy about. A very telling omission because Higginson's famous "Letter to a Young Contributor" (the Atlantic essay that Dickinson first responded to and started their correspondence) alluded to "Cecil Dreeme," the very queer title character in Theodore Winthrop's 1861 novel by the same name. Dreeme was based on Hurlbert, of whom Higginson once remarked: "I never loved but one male friend with passion—and for him my love had no bounds—all that my natural fastidiousness and cautious reserve kept from others I poured on him; to say that I would have died for him was nothing." Now there's some "White Heat."

In Higginson's book Army Life in a Black Regiment (1870) he exhibits an erotic fascination with black skin and bodies: "I always like to observe [black soldiers] when bathing,—such splendid muscular development, set off by that smooth coating of adipose tissue which makes them, like the South-Sea Islanders, appear even more muscular than they are. Their skins are also of finer grain than those of whites, the surgeons say, and certainly are smoother and far more free from hair."

Whitman scholars like Ken Price have noted that Higginson's later attacks on the gay aspects of Whitman's poetry may have been a case of "pot calling the kettle black" given the "tonalities" in Higginson's writing and relationships.

1899 – Gustaf Gründgens (d.1963), one of Germany's most famous and influential actors of the 20th century, intendant and artistic director of theatres in Berlin, Düsseldorf, and Hamburg. His career continued undisturbed through the years of the Nazi regime, but the extent to which this can be considered as deliberate collaboration with the Nazis was hotly disputed.

Born in Düsseldorf, Gründgens after World War I attended the drama school of the Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus and started his career at smaller theaters in Halberstadt, Kiel, and Berlin. In 1923 he went to the Kammerspiele in Hamburg, where he also appeared as a director for the first time, co-working with the author Klaus Mann, son of Thomas Mann, and his sister Erika Mann. Gründgens, who meanwhile had changed his first name to "Gustaf", married Erika in 1926. However, they divorced three years later.

In 1928 he moved back to Berlin to join the renowned ensemble of the Deutsches Theater under director Max Reinhardt. Apart from straight theatre, Gründgens also worked with Otto Klemperer at the Kroll Opera, as a Kabarett artist and also as a movie actor, most notably in Fritz Lang's 1931 film M, which decisively added to his popularity. From 1932 he was a member of the Prussian State Theatre ensemble, first scintillating as Mephistopheles.

Gründgens' career proceeded after the Nazi Machtergreifung: in 1934 he became "Intendant" of the Prussian State Theatre; though constant attacks on his homosexual orientation made him ask the Prussian Minister President Hermann Göring for his discharge after the Night of the Long Knives. Göring rejected the request and instead appointed him a member of the Prussian state council to ensure his immunity.. In 1941, Gründgens starred in the propaganda film Ohm Krüger and also in Friedemann Bach, a film he also produced. After Goebbels's total war speech on 18 February 1943, Gründgens volunteered for the Wehrmacht but was again recalled by Göring, who had his name added to the Gottbegnadeten list.

Imprisoned by the Soviet NKVD in 1945, Gründgens was released thanks to the intercession by the Communist actor Ernst Busch, whom Gründgens himself had saved from execution by the Nazis in 1943.

From 1936 till 1946, Gründgens was married to the famous German actress Marianne Hoppe. The wedlock was widely seen as a lavender marriage.

Posthumously, Gründgens was the subject of a novel entitled "Mephisto" by his former brother-in-law Klaus Mann, who had died in 1949. The film version was a huge commercial and critical success winning the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1981.

1919 – On this date G. Harrold Carswell, Richard Nixon's unsuccessful nominee for the Supreme Court, was born (d.1992). He was rejected for being a mediocre nominee and for his voiced support for racial segregation during an unsuccessful election bid in 1948. He was also against women's rights. In defense against charges that Carswell was "mediocre", U.S. Senator Roman Hruska (Republican, Nebraska) stated: "Even if he were mediocre, there are a lot of mediocre judges and people and lawyers. They are entitled to a little representation, aren't they, and a little chance? We can't have all Brandeises, Frankfurters and Cardozos." Talk about damning with faint praise!

The remark was criticized by many and is believed to have backfired and damaged Carswell's cause. Probably a good thing. It would have been very embarrassing to the Court when, several years later, he was convicted of "unnatural and lascivious advances," the result of propositioning an undercover police officer in a Florida men's room. Carswell subsequently withdrew from public life.

1959 – Norbert Bischoff, born in Meyenburg, Germany, was a German songwriter (d.1993).

Bischoff worked for the Leipzig song group and moved to Berlin in 1976.

From 1983 he performed his own songs. He was one of the first musicians in the GDR to openly address homosexual issues. In 1984 he released the song Truly a Place to be Happy about the dealings in pubs, and the program Sorry, I'm Gay. In late 1984 was hired by the Ministry of State Security, getting the job as a casual employee with with a fake resume. Bischoff quit after a short time.

In 1985, at the GDR Chansontage in Frankfurt on Oder, he received the General Director's Prize at the Committee for Entertainment Art for his program Excuse me, I'm the Gay One and since that year has been working as a freelance singer. Some of his songs were recorded on GDR radio. His song He says he is serious about a GDR neo-Nazi was banned.

In 1986 and 1990 he was a contributor to the Festival of Political Song in Berlin. In September 1989 he was one of the signatories of the resolution by rock musicians and songwriters calling for change in the GDR.

In the early 1990s he appeared with his band as Norbert Bischoff & Gesellschaft (Society). The band included Tina Tandler, Lexa Thomas, Bert Wrede, Norbert Grandl, and Juwe Andrees.

On November 9, 1993, Bischoff took his own life, frustrated by developments in reunified Germany. He left the note: "The right date to disappear for a German."

The CD: "I Don't Want to Wait any Longer - last songs by Norbert Bischoff", was released posthumously in 1994.

1960 – The American artist Jean-Michel Basquiat was born on this date (d.1988). Basquiat was born in Brooklyn, New York, to a Puerto Rican woman and a Creole man. Because of his heritage, and his visits to Puerto Rico, Basquiat was fluent in French, Spanish and English by the age of eleven, and was able to read and write in all three languages. He showed artistic abilities at an early age but struggled in school, finally dropping out of high school.

In 1974, Jean-Michel moved to Puerto Rico with his family, who lived there for two years. It was there he experienced the first of many homosexual encounters; on one occasion he was orally raped by a barber. Upon the family's return to America, Jean-Michel dropped out of school and frequently ran away from home. At the age of 15, he absconded from his father, who caught him having sex with a male cousin and tried to kill him. Basquiat was a bi-sexual. His first sexual encounters were gay, and as a teenager he ofter worked as a gay street hustler, though later in his life he had many famous and infamous relations with women, including Madonna.

In the late 1970s Basquiat began spray-painting graffiti on buildings in Lower Manhattan, working under the pseudonym SAMO. When the Village Voice published an article about the graffiti, the artist ended the project by inscribed "SAMO IS DEAD" on the walls of SoHo buildings in 1979.

He started appearing on live public-access cable show and performing with noise rock bands. Finally in 1980, Basquiat participated in his first major show and received coverage in Artforum magazine, which brought Basquiat to the attention of the art world. This led to his joining a gallery in SoHo and showing regularly and an invitation to meet Andy Warhol who became a collaborator.

By 1985 he was appearing on the cover of The New York Times Magazine in recognition of his success as a leading artist of the period. After Warhol died on February 22, 1987, Basquiat became increasingly isolated, and his heroin addiction and depression became more severe. He died of a heroin overdose in his art studio on August 12, 1988, at the age of 27.

Basquiat's work has undergone major and influential exhibitions at the Whitney Museum of American Art and the Brooklyn Museum. On May 15, 2007 an untitled Basquiat work from 1981 sold at auction in New York for US$14.6 million. In 1996, seven years after his death, a biopic titled Basquiat was released, directed by Julian Schnabel, with actor Jeffrey Wright playing Basquiat. A 2009 documentary film, Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child, directed by Tamra Davis, was first screened as part of the 2010 Sundance Film Festival.

2000 – Joshua Bassett is an American actor, singer and songwriter. He is known for his starring role as Ricky Bowen in High School Musical: The Musical: The Series.

Bassett was born and raised in Oceanside, California, and was home-schooled.

His first introduction to musical theater was at age 7, over a decade before he starred as Ricky in High School Musical: The Musical: The Series, when he was in a community theater production of High School Musical as J.V. Jock No. 2. Since then, Bassett has starred in over 30 musical productions.

He moved to Los Angeles when he was 16 years old to start acting, living in his car for some time to get by.

Bassett sings and plays piano, guitar, ukulele, bass, drums, and some saxophone. On May 10, 2021, he came out as a member of the LGBTQ+ community during an interview.

In December 2021, Bassett disclosed that he experienced sexual abuse as a child and teen.

2010 – President Obama signs the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell."

[quill-of-thoth]

Letters from Watson: The Cardboard Box

Part 1: The fun bits

Watson's yearning for a vacation somewhere cooler is both very relatable and another reason to assume this is taking place prior to meeting Mary Morstan - he doesn't have the funds to leave town.

(This may shed light on Holmes' insistence on bringing him to cases that are outside of London - the scenery is nice even when the crime is grim, and if Holmes himself is already going to lodge somewhere, or be put up by his clients overnight, it costs Watson little more than a train ticket to join him. Especially how often they share a double-bedded room, aka a room with two beds.)

Holmes' appreciation (or lack of appreciation) for nature should always be understood in relation to Watson's appreciation for Romanticism, a literary and philosophical movement that emphasized the expression of intense emotion and also glorified pastoralism and a predictably skewed 18th century idea of nature.

Yes, when Tumblr talks about romanticizing something this is in fact the origin of that phrase / idea. For once we all get an A in media literacy.

As a literary tradition Romanticism lived and died in conversation with Realism, which appears to be Holmes' favorite.

Romanticism petered out as a movement (though not necessarily as a literary style) in the 1850's, while Realism arose (in france) in the 1840's. Given that my estimation of Holmes and Watson's ages is that they were in their early 20's in 1881, they would have both grown up with literature of both styles available.

Speaking of literature, Holmes mentioning "one of Poe's sketches" is undoubtedly referring to The Murders in Rue Morgue, an 1841 short story often credited with being the first modern detective story.

Holmes following Watson's train of thought is the exact same scene as in The Resident Patient, starting with the phrase "Our blinds were half-drawn." See that post for timeline context information regarding Henry Ward Beecher.

Once again, this case is filled with mentions of Holmes or Watson reading aloud to each other, a type of companionship I can only compare to chasing your family or roommates around to show them a tumblr post.

Lestrade's here! There's a reason he's a fan favorite (other than repetition) because he's so helpful in pointing out a case.

An antimacassar is a cloth made to cover the top and back of an upholstered armchair - most of us probably think of a circular doily if we've ever thought of that kind of decoration at all, but it's really a way to keep the chair clean. Given that victorian hair products are, uh, greasy. Miss Cushing is embroidering one.

Holmes' forensic evidence is much as it always is - some doubtful inferences based on handwriting analysis, some more scientific observations regarding the materials. I can confirm that tissues cut with a scalpel, even by inexperienced hands, tend to be relatively neat: scalpels are very sharp and they basically force you to hold them like a pencil, which is good for small and precise cuts.

Also, and I know this for legitimate work purposes I promise: the skin and cartilage of an ear do not tend to match up after you cut them with a scalpel, because you usually have to make one pass through the skin and one through the harder tissue. The ear is also a convex shape with very thin skin, and skin tends to... shrink on itself, once cut. Especially if you let it dry out. And if you're bad at scalpels that can show up more obviously post skin shrinkage, depending on how the collagen retracts.

#Letters from Watson #legitimate work purposes being I used to process tissue samples #Actually going to be doing that again for next job but a greater variety #less ear based

[karnaca78]

ohhh for the wips: i would love to hear about light catcher :D

Thank you for your interest!! This story has actually been rotating in my head for a while.

Light Catcher will most likely be the next Dishonored thing I finish. It's a single-chapter story revolving around the invention of the silvergraph by none other than Kirin Jindosh around 1840. It's part of a series of writings about science in the world of Dishonored, but it can completely be read without prior knowledge of the other stories!

It stems a little from personal experience, too. Around the time I discovered Dishonored 2, I was following a class about the history of photography. Our lecturer started with the basics, so, the invention of the process itself and how it worked from a technical point of view, before considering the artistic debates it stirred. It made me think of the silvergraph and the way it inhabits various personal or official spaces in the game.

I don't think it will delve too deeply into technicalities, because it'd be a bit boring to read. Rather, I'd like to explore Jindosh's motivations and a bit of his life before DH2 through this particular topic. (I can't help it I'm a nerd for character and lore study)

And as a bonus, here's a little snippet:

"A glass of wine is suddenly pushed into his hand, and he glances up at the face of a young maid. Too white to be a local, and with a pretty crown of ginger hair; Morleyan. He traces the curve of her cheekbones with observant eyes, notices freckles and red circles under her gaze, and part of him will remember that Lady F— makes her servants cry. The rest; the majority will forget it, dismiss it as unimportant next to the march of progress and the age of enlightenment he seeks to lead.

When he turns his head away from her, it’s as if she does not exist anymore.

His peripheral vision catches Luca’s grin, and he imagines what the Duke’s son would like him to do— to become a mirror image of him, a hound without instinct, trained only to detect the scents of costly perfumes and pent-up desires. He’d want him to woo their hostess with naught but a smile and a few well-placed words, regular as the ticking of clockwork. Kirin can almost taste the sea breeze on her skin and a hint of brandy on her breath. They are sitting too far apart for this, and still; all of it and more is reflected in the upturn of the aristocrat’s lips.

Something makes his stomach lurch in disgust at the thought. His dark eyes scan her face in search for answers, and they find nothing; nothing there to indicate interest or intelligence. She’d take the scalpel in her flesh as a mercy, once freed from the constraints of a world she fails to grasp between her delicate fingers. Those, too, he’d like to see stripped. Bleached white and clicking together; he longs to hear the soothing song of skeletal remains again.

The Academicians destroyed his music machine. Perhaps, if he could recreate it — infuse it with yet more perfection and raw authenticity — then the sound of her voice would no longer screech inside his skull like nails on a chalkboard."

#ask answered #dishonored #dishonored fanfic #kirin jindosh #thanks for the ask! #i know the snippet has little to do with the actual main topic of the fic buuuut #i think it's interesting to explore the way Jindosh became an esteemed member of society after being expelled from the Academy #it was most definitely an unpleasant process made of compromises and perhaps a bit of self deprecation #he despises them more than they could ever despise him! and yet he has to bow before them as if he shouldn't consider himself superior #this kind of awakens a certain cruelty within him that's not entirely gratuitous but rather the product of a life of abuse #ANYWAY thank you again!

[dearly-somber]

I’m Serious | k.yh

-> pairing. Kang Younghyun (Brian) x f!reader

-> genre. fluff, humor

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1840

-> warnings. none!

-> a/n. English is spoken in bold!

-> collection. songfic

-> started. Sep. 3rd, 2020 @ 01:11

-> fin. Dec. 20th, 2021 @ 00:22

-> edited. Wed., Jul. 12th, 2023 @ 23:59

You bounce up and down as you see the Jeep park near the beach house where you and your friends would be staying for the weekend.

The houses lined along the beach were like something you'd find in a movie or TV show, with the brightly painted wooden walls and straw roofs and small steps leading up to the porch that gave a spectacular view of the beach. There was a hammock on the porch, along with a beach chair that looked like it would cave in under the weight of a book.

As the five of your friends started hopping out of the car, you ran to them as best you could in a pair of slops (flip-flops), hugging everyone with welcoming squeals of excitement.

You had gotten there a day earlier since you got off work sooner than they did. There would be three people in a room since the house was pretty small, each room decked with one bunk bed and a single bed with a bedside table and one shared closet. Thankfully you hadn't packed all too much, considering that you were only spending the weekend, and left plenty of space for the guys.

"Y/N! It's so good to see you!" Jae said as you leaned up to hug him, a bright smile aimed at you. You replied with a weird groan of agreement before moving to hug Dowoon and Wonpil at the same time, since they were closest to you.

"I feel like you've grown again," you said with a playful jab to Dowoon's ribs, laughing as Wonpil nodded and muttered something about sharing his height with everyone. Dowoon blushed as he whined childishly.

"Noona," he whined, making you giggle and pinch his cheek gently.

"I'm just teasing, Dowoonie, go ahead and check out the house with Jae and Wonpil." You smiled after him as he ran off with his back, waddling after his hyungs cutely. Shaking your head you turned to Sungjin who had been fondly watching you interact with the youngest, rolling his eyes and smiling stupidly.

"Hey, noona. It's been too long." He said as he leaned down to hug you, a lot more relaxed than the rest of your clique, pulling away and grabbing two bags in each hand. You ruffled his hair and watched him walk off after the others, a smile on your face. Before you could turn around to greet him, arms slipped around your waist, a gentle weight resting against your shoulder with breath fanning against your jaw.

"Jagiya..." Younghyun drawled, trying to act cute. You rolled your eyes but turned around with a smile, facing a pouty fox who looked like he was on the verge of throwing a tantrum.

"Why do you always greet everyone before me? Your boyfriend?"

"Because, dummy." You pushed your finger against his forehead harshly, giggling as you spoke, noticing him going cross-eyed. "They need reassurance of my love more than you do."

"Yah! I also need your attention!" He shouted with a large smile, picking you up at your waist and lifting you up, making you shout to put you down and hit weakly at his shoulders. When he finally set you down you giggled, leaning against him, figurative hearts in your eyes as he leant down to kiss you. You gave him a short peck before telling him to grab his things and come on inside.

"I'm the eldest, I should get a single bed to myself!"

"But I'm the youngest and therefore have maknae privileges!"

You heard a sigh as Jae and Dowoon argued loudly about the last single bed that was available (since you had already snagged the one in the room to the left, courtesy of arriving first).

You went over to the room, leaning against the door frame while overseeing the argument, finding it hilarious how Wonpil so easily ignored them while neatly unpacking his things on the lower bunk.

"Y/N! You tell him that as eldest, I should get the single bed. Right? Tell him!" Jae said over-dramatically, his hands flying all over the place. You grinned mischievously before clearing your throat.

"I'm afraid that Dowoon is right. On page 294 in the Maknae Privilege Code of Conduct, it clearly states that he gets the single bed." You said, speaking with the confidence of a lawyer defending an obviously innocent man. Dowoon walked over happily and Jae looking at you with the face you'd use as the thumbnail for a Top 10 Anime Betrayals video.

"I hate you." Jae said before sulkily throwing his things up on the top bunk, Dowoon side hugging you for a second before smugly going to his single bed.

"Aww," You back hugged Jae, standing on the very tips of your toes to rest your chin as close to his shoulder as possible before saying, "don't be like that, hm? You know I love you, and I have a compromise anyway." Jae perked up at your comment looking less sulky than before.

Dowoon looked utterly terrified, and Wonpil was (figuratively) eating popcorn at the drama playing out in the bedroom.

"Because Dowoon gets the bed, he has to pay for one thing you want."

Dowoon glared at you, appalled, while Jae triumphantly pumped his fist in the air and gave you a light kiss on the cheek. You laughed, waving at the guys still in the room and walking outside to the kitchen to see Brian and Sungjin talking idly about what they'd do for dinner (they'd apparently had lunch on the way here) and what to do to keep everyone busy. You walked over almost silently, leaning up to give Younghyun, who was sitting on one of the counters, a peck on the cheek, looking over at Sungjin with a large smile and suggestive wiggle of the eyebrows.

You reached for the hem of your shirt, beginning to pull it over your head when there was frantic, almost high pitched screaming from the man closest to you, who grabbed your wrists and jumped off the counter to hide you from any prying eyes.

"Yah! What d'you think you're doing?!" Brian shouted heatedly, still a bit shook with the stunt you’d just tried to pull.

You snorted, almost falling over, leaning your forehead against his chest as you laughed silently. "God, you're cute," you muttered, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye and regaining your composure.

Younghyun was looking at you like a lost puppy, pulling at your heart strings. Giggling still, you pulled your short forward and motioned your head downward, Brian looking down, confused. When he saw the fabric of a swim suit, he laughed in disbelief, letting his head rest against your shoulder. "Ah, I'm sorry." You said, running your hand through his hair comfortingly.

"You gave me a heart attack," he mumbled, pulling away.

"Are you two planning on keeping me as a third wheele or can I leave?" Sungjin teased playfully, making the two of you turn around.

"Right, sorry. Anyway, I was thinking we could go down to the beach and you know... Swim?" You chuckled, taking off your shirt to reveal the stretchy fabric of your all gray swimsuit before tying up your hair.

"Sounds fun," Sungjin turned to Wonpil and the others who were sitting in front of the television playing Mario Kart. "If you guys wanna join we'll be down at the beach."

"Okay, hyung. See you guys later!" Dowoon called as he shouted with Wonpil, who had just been pushed off of the track by Jae.

"Ciao!" You shouted as you ran outside, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. Having already swam a bit, you were first in the water, Sungjin eventually joining you before Brian finally got in. Once the water was about waist high you waddled over to Younghyun, who looked kind of uncomfortable.

"What's up? You okay?" You asked as you brushed some hair out of his face, putting your hand over his arm. Brian nodded with a half hearted smile.

"It's just a bit dark, is all. You can't really see anything."

"It's okay, love. You can go on back if you want. We won't be here long, anyway." Brian nodded, kissing you thankfully before he turned and walked back to solid ground. At around about the same time, the three doofuses ran down from the beach house, splashing in the salt water and lunging down as soon as it was deep enough. You laughed, shutting your eyes as water flew at you.

You only stayed in the water for about 30 minutes before you got tired of the boys' seemingly endless energy, going to lay down underneath the tree Brian had set up everyone's towels at. You went and sat next to him quietly, finding a comfortable spot where you could lay down with your face out of the sun while still being able to tan.

You layed down with your head resting more or less next to Brian's side, only your lower half exposed to the sun. You entered a peaceful state of limbo, still aware of everything around you but feeling like you were asleep. You opened an eye, however, when you felt weight being placed on your stomach, looking up to see Younghyun laying against you, eyes closed. You smiled fondly at him, playing with his hair for a second before letting your hand rest on the nape of his neck.

As night fell, everyone got all huddled up inside, dressed in their PJ's, two boxes of pepperoni and mushroom pizzas laying on the coffee table in the living room.

You laughed and shouted along with the guys as they had an intense game of Smash Bros, sitting sandwiched between Dowoon and Brian, nibbling at your pizza while the room went silent. When Wonpil won for the 3rd time this night, you screamed, Brian's soul having seemingly left his body. You were giggling, rubbing his back soothingly with your legs intertwined.

It only took a few more games and a scary movie for you to head on off to bed, yawning once every 2 minutes. Not long after Brian walked into the room, stopping midway toward his bunk bed. "Bri?" You said in a small voice, face hidden in the darkness of the room.

"What's up?" He asked, crouching down beside your bed and running a hand over your hair.

"Can you sleep with me for tonight? I can't fall asleep because of the movie..." You were nervous for his reaction but weren't entirely surprised when he mumbled for you to move up, shifting in next to you and wrapping himself around you.

"I keep telling them..." He said with a sigh, his lips brushing against your shoulder. You sighed contently, putting your hand over his.

"Today was fun though, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was. Wait until you see what I have planned for tomorrow." Brian whispered mischievously, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "Go to sleep, princess. We have a long day ahead of us."

#kang younghyun x you #kang younghyun x reader #kang younghyun #day6 x you #day6 x reader #day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 fluff #day6 romance #day6 young k #kang younghyun fluff #kang younghyun romance #young k x reader #young k x you #young k fluff #young k romance #young k humor #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #young k #day6 #day6 fanfic #day6 fanfiction #day6 fic #Spotify

[focsle]

wooey time @ near midnight

This past lifey business I’m doing in learning more about Mr. Martin can be really something because I get these little snippets of memory during sessions and then immediately start hunting to historically corroborate them because I need Validation. Sometimes there’s nothing there to match and I’m just Making Stuff Up, sometimes there is. Here was a recent weird coincidental one that I’m copy and pasting from my stream of consciousness notes cos I’m too lazy to rewrite it:

“No…it wasn’t a brother. It was a friend from back home. His name was Ben? White, lanky. Clothes ill fitting. Blue eyes. Dark brown straight limp hair. Two or three years younger? He worked at a store in town—I think a feed store or something like that. Martin befriended him because he had to go there sometimes to pick things up for the farm. Morning sunlight coming through the window, golden, dust motes. Light wood. Smells like grain in there. Can hear a train? He can hear a train from inside the store, the whistle of it. And when he hears it he tells Ben that soon he’s going to be on that train. That he’s planning on leaving for New Bedford, that he’s planning on going on a ship there. It almost feels like a very recent decision he made, but saying it aloud to someone makes it feel real, gives him the resolve to make it real. He was the only one Martin told where he was going. He doesn’t tell him exactly when, just ‘soon’.”

I start looking up dates for railroads, and see Ipswich gets its first railroad in 1839 that connects to Boston. There is another railroad from Boston that connects to New Bedford in 1840. The first impression I got of Martin was landing in New Bedford sometime in the winter, and records ultimately showed that first ship he took out was in January, early 1840s. So timing works. When I was looking at the history of Ipswich’s railroad I ran into this image.

Ooh, grain, ooh, proximity to railroad. However, this is what looks like an early 20th c. photo, the ownership attached to this building as it stands was late 19th century, and the building is still around today (and was also moved to this spot from an earlier location by the water). Top bit was added later. No idea if it was there in the 1840s, can’t find specific dates for it. Apparently grain silos weren’t a thing til after 1843 so the technology wouldn’t have been used as such in this Vision I got. Dunno if there was a feed store within hearing and feeling distance of the train in the 1840s. But still another lil weird thing to come across anyway.

WEIRD IF TRUE, WEIRD COINCIDENCE IF FALSE, like all of it. It’s an odd sensation.

#mister martin #wooey ppl hate me because I’m like ‘okay is this historically accurate though what does the record say’ #and historian people hate me because I’m like ‘source: reincarnation???’ #I don’t actually know if either of those ppl hate me BUT I feel like I fall inside some overlap of a venn diagram lol

[witchwitha-b]

So another try to get this part of the collaboration with @paigenoelchas-blog and other writers to upload 😮‍💨 Maybe this time it will work, if it worked the parts are split! I know it's annoying and I wanted to do it completely but there seems to be no other way😑 I got inspired by movies like Pride and Prejudice, little women and musicals like Hamilton and Cyrano for this part! I hope this works 🙏

I hope you like it! Have a great day<3

PS: I listened to a playlist while writing to get me in the mood 😅 I will link it for you on the other part.

PPS : if this works thanks for the help @x3kristax3

Dusty Rooms and Poetry (somewhere in America 1840)

Hospital - Jake

I'm walking through the white room, restless as I watch her still sleeping figure in the bed. She looks so small in it, as if she could shatter into a million pieces any second. My skin itches just to think about her never waking up again, my head hurts I should stop thinking altogether. My phone rings constantly, it's mostly Lilly and Hannah worrying about me and her, sometimes the other try to contact me as well but I just can't stand to text them. Not yet. Not right now. I shut off my phone and throw it back onto the small night stand beside her bed. I'm restless but tired, I'm nauseous but hungry, I'm dehydrated but I'm still crying somehow. I sit down on the chair that became like a second bed to me, like support when my legs failed to do so. Her hand is warm but it's not enough, I brush away her hair, put a little streak behind her ear and caress her soft cheek. "Hey there, my love." I say and do something that I started since we arrived here but never did before. I pray and hope to whoever might hear that she can feel and hear what I do and say. "I remembered that one movie you forced me to watch with you. And I know that I looked bored but I actually really enjoyed it and I enjoyed how much you fell in love with it. Like I fell in love with you. And I couldn't stand to see you cry because of the ending but I guess I have to get used to it, right? You are a emotional person and I love this passion about you. I remembered the movie because I was thinking too much again then I started to have this poem in my head. Maybe I write it down, read it to you. I'm sure you would love it."

I would love to hear your poem... It makes me happy... I think before I slip into another unwanted but needed sleep

Somewhere in America 1840

"MC wake up! Wake up!" I open my eyes and at that exact moment my Amme opens the heavy curtains of my room. Light floods every corner and I close my eyes once more to not become too overwhelmed. "Come on get up my lovely child. You have a big day today." I open one eye and look at her. " Big day?" She takes my arms softly and drags me into a sitting position, her brown eyes wide with shock. "Have you forgotten already? You are going to meet the bankers son!" I roll my eyes and push away the duvet. "What if I don't love him? You know what the people say...he is bizarre." My Amme pushes me off the bed and drags me over to the bathroom, sits me down onto a chair and begins to clean my face and body with a wet cloth. Her rosé dress swings carefully with her movements and the white bonnet is secure around her head. "Since when do you care about the talk of the people? And apart from that even if he is as bizarre as the people say, he can provide for you. Give you a good life, my sweet child." I close my eyes against the cold, wet cloth in my face which does not keep me from speaking. "I'm frightened, Amme. Frightened that I will not love him." She stops for a second. "My dear....children need love. Adults need a secure future and women need a safe, provided life. There is no need to fear as long as you have one of those things. Now let's get you dressed, my dear." We stand up and walk back into the bedroom. She began to dress me for the day, starting with my undergarments and the corset, then the under petticoat, the crinoline and then the over petticoat. Next came the camisole and we finished everything with the dress and the shoes. It was pale yellow with black features, I did not pick it out but I loved it immediately and was very grateful to have my Amme. " Now let's eat and then he will arrive." Amme starts to rush towards the door but I stop her halfway through. "I don't think I can swallow a thing, my dearest Amme." Her brown eyes look back at me and I know exactly what they say. "You will still try, Catalina put a lot of effort into your food as she always does." I huff quietly before I nod and join her.

#duskwood #jake x mc #jake duskwood #mc duskwood #dan duskwood #duskwood richy #jessy duskwood #lilly duskwood #thomas duskwood #cleo duskwood #hannah duskwood #collaboration #paigenoelchas-blog #duskwood fanfiction #fanfic

[akaashisbabygirl]

camboy part two

authors note: hehe i decided to leave you all on a cliffhanger once again. if you haven’t read part one i suggest you do so! i think my tags are working again so hopefully this can be seen in tags!! i’m sorry that i took forever to post this, i’ve been really busy :( now, if you would like a part three let me know!

words: 1840

pairings: camboy!akaashi x female!reader

warnings: NSFW, male vibrator use, female and male masturbation, mentions of sex toys, reader gets sad, akaashi gets sad, kinda angsty, leaves you on a cliffhanger

part one 

“so...” akaashi’s voice spoke into the microphone sitting on the desk, “thank you all for your suggestions. i’m going to be taking them into consideration for my next video.”

he quickly turned off the microphone, stopping everything he was doing to check out the list of items people had suggested for him to use in his next stream.

a harness, blindfold, handcuffs?? he didn’t know how much that would work. he’d have to find a way to restrain himself without having to call someone else to do it for him. that would be tricky. some viewers even suggested he used some sex toys such as a vibrator because they wanted to see what akaashi would look like squirming and overstimulated. or some even suggested that he were to edge himself, not letting himself cum just yet. cat ears, a harness? the things people were suggesting to him made him really interested to see just how far they wanted him to go. maid outfit? he chuckled.

it would’ve been next to impossible for akaashi to hide all the clothing items from you, his roommate, the one person he has definite feelings for. he couldn’t just keep some women outfits in his closet - you would believe he has a girlfriend who you didn’t know about. and if you felt the same way about him, you would be upset with the fact that he never told you about being in a relationship.

he shivered to these thoughts. which is why akaashi kept the idea of just getting the simple items - cat ears, harness, a skirt, sex toys etc. at least he wouldn’t need to try and hide them from you.

if you had found akaashi’s secret sex toy stash on accident - he knew you would probably just brush it off, considering you know him and his hormones, and knowing he wasn’t taken by anyone, there really wasn’t anyone to fuck.

you see, akaashi isn’t the type of person who is interested in one night stands. yes, he had lost his virginity before his ex girlfriend, which he regrets very much. but now, akaashi was a grown man. he was out there looking for a relationship that he wanted to last for a long time, a relationship where he can properly love the person for more than just the sex.

a relationship that he wanted to build with you.

he left his room quickly as he heard the door shut, signalling that you were back home. he was excited to see you, yet, he hid his excitement from you.

“can you help me?” you asked, pouting softly. akaashi chuckled, grabbing some of the heavy bags from your hands, setting them down on the kitchen bench.

a soft pink blush spread across your face. he was so big compared to you, and you liked it. you felt so small next to akaashi, so tiny and adorable. and you know he liked that too - akaashi feels that he can be able to protect you because you’re smaller than him, but that’s just how he feels.

the next day, akaashi was out early to leave for work. the apartment felt cold and empty when you had woken up to the painful sight of the sun shining too brightly into your eyes. it would be one of those days which you had gotten used to overtime, where you would spend all day at home on your own, waiting for akaashi to walk back in through those doors once more. you waited, and waited, thinking of things to do could seem to make time move faster than it had previously.

by noon, you were sitting on your bed, laptop in your lap as you scrolled through your work, submitting it to your manager before he yelled at you. you sighed softly, in desperate need for a break. that’s when the idea popped into your head, to check if he had uploaded. seeing that he had, you smiled greatly. a smile of relief had sprouted over your soft cheeks. you slipped your sweatpants down, watching how the man sat on the screen, his cock already hard and noticeable in his boxers.

you almost drooled at the sight of his cock. it was pretty. if that was even a proper way to describe it. you watched as the man took his erect cock from his boxers, thinking about how it would fit inside of you. he was bigger than what you had seen and taken before, but he was the only man who made you drool to the thought of what it would be like inside of you. how your cunt would feel sucking him in, how he’d hit those spots inside of you that you could barely reach with your own fingers. you’d let him fuck you over and over again until you’d become dumb and unable to think properly, drooling all over the white bedsheets of your bed.

soft fingers rubbed your clit, tracing around your folds before finally slipping a finger into your wet hole. a hand clamped over your mouth quickly to try and surpass your moans as your hips bucked up for more friction. you chased after that one feeling that made you lose control every time, the feeling that had your legs shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head. moans slipped forcefully from your lips, a wave of pleasure spreading quickly throughout your body from the feeling of your fingertips desperately trying to reach that one spot inside of you which always sent you over the edge. 

however, what you didn’t know was that akaashi was in the apartment. his jaw had dropped quickly while hearing a moan slip from your lips. without having to look into a mirror to see his painful expression, akaashi could tell a tear had fallen down his cheek. he felt as if he was tied down to the ground by some invisible shackles, keeping him in place, forcing him to accept the reality that he did not want to accept. he didn’t want to stand there and listen to some guy fuck you, he didn’t want to hear you moan for that man, praise them and give them all your attention. selfishly, akaashi wished it were him. 

slowly, akaashi made his way out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. he rushed to bokuto’s, planning to send you a message saying that he would be at work late. it was only because he was too scared to see you right now, akaashi was too afraid to see you. he didn’t want to see your fucked out expression. he didn’t want to see the man or whoever was making you feel this good. 

and so he left. 

when akaashi arrived home that night, he acted as if nothing had happened - and so did you. it made akaashi mad, knowing that he had clearly heard something going on in your bedroom earlier that day, but he didn’t want to sound like a jealous idiot and bring it up. which is why he chose to keep his feelings to himself as he sat beside you, watching the stupid rom com on the tv. he hated the fact that he felt as if his feelings were twisted into a tight knot that he couldn’t untie. there was so much love for you filling his heart that he could’ve sworn that at any minute his own heart would combust from the anxiety which danced around his mind. 

akaashi knew that he needed to get a new video out, his fans were growing desperate and he was needing the money. he waited patiently until you had left the house, before locking the door to his room, changing up his setting to the camboy’s room. 

time passed and quickly moans were spilling from his lips, his hips bucking up as his hands grasped desperately into the bedsheets. he chose today to incorporate a toy, a vibrator specifically, yet, he didn’t know that this much pleasure would spread through his body. he blushed from how he was moaning, he was so desperate, so subby even. he felt dirty, overstimulated from the way the toy was making him feel. his eyes rolled to the back of his head as another orgasm washed over him, his fucked out body falling to the sheets after taking the small toy away from his length. 

he waited until his body filled with some energy before he got up from his spot on the bed, moving to turn his camera off. he quickly changed his sheets, accidentally forgetting to put his skirt away, before passing out underneath the sheets of his bed.

you smiled, seeing akaashi in his bed fast asleep. you could tell he was in a deep slumber from the way he clung to his bedsheets, not even moving a muscle. you adored the sleeping boy. 

“he must’ve worked himself too hard today” you thought, knowing that akaashi never falls asleep unless he’s exhausted.

how you wished that you could go over to him and kiss his forehead, telling him to sleep well, or even that you could get into bed, wrapping your arms around him and falling asleep with his back to your chest. there’s so much you wanted to do, but akaashi wasn’t your boyfriend, so it wasn’t going to happen. 

you grabbed your washing form the bathroom, a pale blue skirt catching your eye in the process. this wasn’t your skirt. who’s was it? your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, almost swearing that tears began to bombard your eyes as your mind came to realisation.

akaashi has a girlfriend.

you left the skirt there, pretending as if you had never seen it. however, the thoughts of akaashi being with someone else made you feel sick. soon enough, you were also curled up under the sheets of your bed. 

days had passed, yet the thought of akaashi having a girlfriend didn’t leave your mind. you wondered what she was like. how pretty is she? how tall is she? what is her hair colour? what’s her style? or in general; what does she look like? you couldn’t find a part of your mind that wasn’t thinking about this as you made your way back to the apartment. you felt sick, almost anxious even being there. you felt scared, scared that you would run into the girl who had crushed your dreams of being with akaashi.

opening the front door to the apartment, you heard a loud cry coming from akaashi’s room. his door was slightly spread open, screams and moans coming from there. you didn’t care about the moans, why was akaashi screaming? rushing to his room, you shoved the door open.

but what you saw wasn’t what you expected.

“akaashi...” you noticed the familiar set up to the way the cam boy has. the bed, the walls, even the pretty skirts, some of the toys he’s brought out before sitting on the bed beside him, “what are you doing?” 

© all content belongs to akaashisbabygirl 2021, do not repost or change

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyū!! #haikyuu smut #akaashi smut #akaashi x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #nsfw—🎟

[amorgansgal]

This mostly stemmed from me getting a kitchen magazine, with an ad in it for an ice cream machine. It’s weird where inspiration may strike from. I just like the idea of getting Ice Cream with Arthur Morgan. And what do you know, Ice Cream machines were invented in 1840, by two women no less! So shout out to Agnes Marshall (in the UK) and Nancy Johnson (in the US) for coming up with a pretty great idea!

You can find it on my AO3 as well

Summary:  You manage to get some time away from the daily camp chores and have hidden yourself away from Miss Grimshaw to read a magazine, but are found by our favourite outlaw who wants to know what you’re up to!

Warnings: Hinted sexual tension, but just mostly a butt tonne of fluff.

Pairing(s): Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur Morgan x You, Arthur Morgan x Y/N

As the day cooled with the rapid approach of evening, and the sky became streaked with glorious colours of pinks, orange and gold, you had managed to sneak away from the watchful and icy eye of Miss Grimshaw.

You tucked yourself behind one of the wagons, with a magazine that Karen had “borrowed” from a hotel she had been scoping out. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a mix of fashion, gossip from Saint Denis and a few of the latest and greatest kitchen gadgets tucked away at the back. But this was the part that had caught your eye, considering you had once worked as a kitchen maid in a well-to-do house in New York. Your employers had been able to afford all the pricey knick-knacks they could dream of! You could only gaze at them, Cook was adamant you couldn’t touch them.

You occasionally glanced up to make sure Miss Grimshaw wasn’t going to badger you into doing more chores, though with the fading light usually that meant she wouldn’t insist on more sewing. But you had heard enough times about how there were a multiple of things you could be doing in the evening, rather than just reading.

‘Ices of all sorts. Chocolate, Vanilla, Raspberry, Lemon! The delicious world of Ice Cream and Iced Confectionary at your fingertips!’ The ad promised.

‘Whatcha got there?’

You jumped, pulling the magazine to your chest and then finally managed to calm yourself enough to look up at Arthur, his thumbs tucked into his belt, and his blue-green eyes watching you carefully.

‘Sorry, didn’ mean to startle ya,’ he said.

‘It’s fine, just thought you were Grimshaw.’

He chuckled at that, ‘You sure you know what Grimshaw sounds like?’

You felt a warm rush of heat on your cheeks, then turned the magazine round to show him, ‘It’s just an advert for an ice cream machine. I just… wanted a break and didn’t want Grimshaw nagging me. It’s a bucket of ice, and you put the tub into the bucket, and turn the handle and it makes ice cream real fast. We used to have one back at the house I used to work at… and I got to try the ice cream sometimes, if Cook was feeling nice,’ You gabbled.

He nodded slowly, then pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Oh God, why had you whittered on like that? Why would Arthur Morgan of all people be interested in an ice cream machine? He wasn’t interested in that and he certainly wasn’t interested in where you had worked before. And by extension he wasn’t interested in you.

You always felt flustered and overwhelmed when Arthur spoke to you, something that Karen, Mary-Beth and Tilly had teased you about on enough occasions. They had all noticed your mooning over the handsome man, though fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you saw it) the man himself seemed to be oblivious.

Arthur smiled softly, lighting the cigarette, before sitting down next to you and taking a proper look at the magazine. If your heart hadn’t been racing before it certainly was now, you wished his proximity to you wouldn’t leave you so hot and bothered.

But it felt impossible not to notice his firm jaw and the smattering of stubble that ran over his cheeks, the broadness of his shoulders and the dark blonde hair that ran down his neck. Even when he held a cigarette in between his fingers, your mind couldn’t help wondering what those fingers would feel like if they held your thighs or gripped tightly onto your hips.

‘So you plannin’ on making ice cream for everyone here?’ Arthur asked.

You laughed lightly, desperately trying to ignore the flush that crept up your neck and cheeks. ‘I’d need cream and sugar, and a lot of ice, not sure if I can get those things when visiting the Rhodes general store.’

He hummed in agreement. ‘Think you’d have a fight on your hand with Susan and Abigail too, if they got the chance to have cream in their coffee.’

‘Still, you get me all of those things and maybe some raspberries on your travels, and I’ll make you ice cream.’

‘Ice might be melted by the time I get it to yer, but I’ll do my best.’

- A few days later when he brought you a clean handkerchief filled with raspberries, a couple crushed against the white material leaving pink blotches of colour, Tilly and Karen raised their eye brows. You were too busy admiring how they had made the journey mostly intact, considering the fights and near misses Arthur got himself into! And then you also felt incredibly touched that Arthur had even remembered the conversation.

‘So, it’s getting serious then?’ Tilly joked.

You rolled your eyes and popped one in your mouth. ‘It’s just raspberries.’

‘That’s what they all say!’ Karen grinned.

#arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #drabble #feels nice to give a little something while i'm working on my longer fic #hope you all enjoy #fluff

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

Fluff alphabet with Porco

{ Porco x reader | tw:none | fluff | modern }

{ "Charlotte Wolter als Messalina" 1875 by Hans Makart 1840 - 1884 }

P is for PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Very upfront and vocal about his relationship, bringing you up in random conversations, sharing small details whenever something reminds him of you and showing you off like you're made of gold whenever the topic is brought up.

He does it unconsciously too, yet gets protective whenever someone seems too interested in you.

It's just common sense for him to be like this since he loves you so much, so why wouldn't he brag about you like you invented the sun, both in front of his friends and strangers at work. 

Doesn't allow any slander to your name, if anyone has a problem with you then they need to get through him first because he will defend you like his life depends on it, it's his own form of love to stand up for you and fight your fights.

Has a hard time understanding sometimes you need to fight alone and deal with your problems on your own, he's just really worried and would rather do it himself instead

Will try to convince you otherwise but if you insist he will reluctantly agree since in the end he respects your boundaries, although will be a bit sarcastic and passive aggressive afterwards.

It's just that secretly he's afraid of you not needing him, so he wants to prove his worth to you, even if his overprotective tendencies can get overbearing at times.

He's also on board with any form of public affection but tries to play it cool because otherwise he will get flustered in front of people. But when you're alone he's the most affectionate love struck puppy ever, constantly touching you in some way, urging you to play with his hair and kissing you in every now and then.

Will deny this each and every time you bring it up and say you're the one who's clinging to him, despite him currently cuddling you from behind, face resting on your shoulder while you scroll through your phone.

He's also the little spoon but shhh.

Yet outside the furthest he'll go is having an arm around you, doesn't try anything else on his end. 

O is for on Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He's generally more calmer and at peace when smitten, more considerate of other people and not as easily riled up. His face doesn't really show anything but the drumming of his fingers against the desk says otherwise.

Only noticeable for the people close to him, strangers can't really tell and work friends would just think he's in a slightly better mood, even if he's swimming through the clouds inside.

To you, if he's feeling more in love than usual, he wouldn't say it outright, god forbid he shows vulnerability at any time except before falling asleep.

Instead he'll stare at you more, tace his fingers over your hand more and whisper in your ear more.

Nonchalantly giving you random compliments in a passive way, for example:

"You should wear this outfit more."

"Smiling really suits your eyes"

"Your voice helps me sleep, it's soothing."

Shows his love in way like: 

"You could've told me to do it instead, you know? You should rest."

"You made this for me? Alright then I'm cooking your favourite tomorrow, no this isn't negotiable."

"Hey I'm going to the store, what snacks do you want? Yeah it's for the movie you mentioned since I'm free today."

R is for romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Doesn't know much about romance but if he ever is, it's mostly by accident since he can be smooth without trying or realising it.

He truly brought these flowers because Pieck took him with her to the store and he just happened to see them, doesn't even think much of it except that they look pretty, and you look pretty so it makes sense.

Of course he brought you food in bed, it's just to save time. You weren't getting up and he hates eating alone, why are you smiling? 

The only reason he took you to this really nice spot near the lake was because he thought your eyes looked pretty when reflecting sunlight, what's a picnic? 

Other than that he doesn't know much about romance, romantic movies never were interesting to him and lovey dovey stuff never crossed his mind. He just acts on what he feels is right and what seems to make you happy

Especially when it comes to words, his actions speak much more than his mouth ever can. He just doesn't know what to say and gets frustrated that he can't just show you how much he adores you instead of saying it.

Although to other people, and by Porco's usual skepticism and general manners, he doesn't talk to anyone else like he talks to you. Hell he even brags about you which shocked all of his friends, since the only person he spoke about this way before was Marcel.

In conclusion, pure romance isn't in his vocabulary but if you ask him he'll attempt his best, though keep your expectations low, since he's doing something out of his comfort zone, otherwise it will end up with both of you getting frustrated. 

C is for comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He'd instantly wrap you in his arms and attempt to ask what's wrong or if someone did something, till he realises you're not in a good shape to reply that he changes his approach and attempts to soothe you.

Won't let you go or leave your side, will listen to everything you say without hesitation and reminds you that he's here, you're not alone and he wouldn't let anything harm you in any way, you're safe and he will make sure it stays this way.

Isn't good with words but his actions show how much he cares, he actually panics himself when you do but is good at hiding it. Will watch over you when you fall asleep and be there when you wake up, bringing you water or something to drink.

Reminds you that you can tell him anything, he loves you and won't judge, he's on your side no matter what.

Gets emotional himself, even feels a bit of guilt at not noticing what you're going through sooner, will apologise assuming it's something he did without asking.

He'd keep this up for the rest of the week, till he's sure you're better. Paying close attention and being much nicer than usual even when you insist it's okay.

O is for on Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Porco isn't good at expressing his feelings, mostly keeping them buried inside and never letting anyone too close, even rivaling Annie in this trait.

Reading him is pretty hard too since he tends to always wear the tough stoic mask that it's hard to tell when it slips away, he's pretty good at faking his emotions for the sake of other people too and not to make them worried.

If he ever does share a moment of vulnerability with you, it's after dating for a long while that he feels safe enough around you.

He also tends to put your feelings before his, which isn't a good thing since he will underplay his frustration with something and keeps it inside till it bubbles and pops out later in a big way, arguments with him are a matter of when, they will happen eventually.

In which he pours his heart out for you, everything that upset him, his anger is just suppressed sadness who doesn't know itself anymore.

If you can see through that and comfort him instead of feeding into his argument, he will calm down and apologise.

Then have a heart to heart moment with you when he vents about the stress he's been under, how sorry he is for taking it out on you and how much you being by his side means to him.

With you he starts learning how to share vulnerability in healthy ways and how to depend on you too, that he can let his guard down and you won't hurt him.

#Porco🕯 #modern aot🕯 #fluff🕯 #fluff alphabet #porco x you #porco aot #porco galliard #porco x reader #porco imagines #porco fluff #aot #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot x you #snk #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x y/n #snk porco #aot headcanons #porco headcanons