#and i’m very proud of him for that. like beyond measure
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also not to be like, needy on the internet, but i’m having a hard night and i need to laugh so send me funny things. tik toks, jokes, i don’t care please please share and laugh with me
#i’m just… so worried about my brother.#he was diagnosed with ptsd a couple years ago after being traumatized by things he saw in a courtroom as a juror#and the subject of this trial is widely publicized and is all over the news periodically and probably always will be to some extent#and i know he has so much support and i know he wants to help. but he can’t find a therapist with his insurance right now#and him and i are the only ones in my whole family who use social media. which means that i feel like i need to always be watching the news#so i can warn his wife to keep him away from his phone or at least pass on the warning so he can mentally prepare#but it just isnt fair because he put his safety on the line to be a juror at this trial and he helped bring much needed justice#and i’m very proud of him for that. like beyond measure#but also… now i’m also always going to live with this… like. worry for him. and i know you worry about the people you love but#it’s just so overwhelming sometimes. and i wish the world was a better place#because then none of this would be happening. like this all because of an evil person who was protected by an evil system#anyway if you read all of that thanks i guess lol sorry i just super needed to vent that out#i don’t talk about it often for reasons i hope you can infer#remind me to call and schedule a therapy appointment tomorrow lol
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one more fem!reader, 2.9k
“You are truly selfless, Astarion. Ilmater in the flesh.”
He rocks her slightly. Kisses her small head.
“Don’t listen to your mother, darling. If you’re alone in your perfection you’ll be fighting off every eligible hand in Faerûn when you’re bigger. Wouldn’t want that burden solely on you now, would we?”
-
Your home is quaint. Astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough.
astarion x fem!reader
word count: 2.9k
a/n: this is VERY FLUFFY and VERY SMUTTY. VERY, VERY SMUTTY. ALSO VERY FLUFFY. breedy stuff, graphic descriptions, milkers, basically filth. read parts one, two, and three respectively but can probably be read alone. afab reader.
Your home is quaint. Astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough.
Not enough chaos, he argues; sipping from a glass as a king may a chalice, ruminating, swilling; tipping his head from side to side in measured consideration, often with youngling in one arm as you talk late into the early hours. Incense clouds you in a rich haze of ashy whirls.
How perfect would it be if we could both hold one? Or even two in tandem?
“Just think. If we continue now, they’ll all have left sooner. More time for us.” He reasons with an airy gesture, a satisfied smile.
You hum
“If we’re arguing along those lines then there’s certainly a case to be made for no more now, don’t you think?” You whisper, running a finger down the infant’s cheek as he holds her.
Astarion sighs. Looks down at the small gurgling thing in the crook of his arm with a quiet grin, too lovestruck to have any real belief in your rebuttal.
You sit in a huddle on the lounger, blankets swallowing the three of you. He keeps her close while you work inroads into a book you’ve been meaning to read since before she was born. The open shutters across the room give a perfect view of the speckled night sky.
He’s genuinely proud. Smiles like an idiot. Often forgets the frightfully draining toll that your pregnancy and her subsequent birth took on you when he waxes lyrical to his patriars about his plans to expand the brood as soon as possible. The women tend to look straight your way with a relatable pity.
On occasion he even has the tendency to talk like he had a real part in any aspect of her nine month gestation beyond conception, which you’ll remind him fast with a sharp elbow that he certainly did not.
He’s an idiot. A beautiful one, but an idiot nonetheless.
“But look at her! She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. We can’t simply deny the world more of this. It’d be criminal. ’
He turns and presses a soft kiss to your cheek.
‘I’m past that now, obviously; so I do feel my bare minimum, most humble contribution to society can be in the spreading of our perfect genetics throughout the whole of Toril.”
His hand lifts as if in visualisation. You paw it back down, eyes returned to the pages.
“You are truly selfless, Astarion. Ilmater in the flesh.”
He rocks her slightly. Kisses her small head.
“Don’t listen to your mother, darling. If you’re alone in your perfection you’ll be fighting off every eligible hand in Faerûn when you’re bigger. Wouldn’t want that burden solely on you now, would we?”
You scoff with a smile.
“That’s if any of them are able to get remotely close with you lurking about, love.”
He grimaces in good humour and tilts his head once more. Clicks his tongue.
“We’ll cross that barrier when we come to it, I’m sure.’
Gently he shuffles even closer to you, leaning to smatter your candle-warm face in a surprise flutter of giddy kisses. Eyes soft, unhindered.
This may just be the most gooey you’ve ever seen him.
‘You are right, though. I am missing the gory beauty in a good pile of viscera. I don’t necessarily see that fading in the coming decades.”
“I am always right.”
Astarion brushes a wayward hair down by your ear and gives one last kiss.
“That you are, my dear. Always.”
-
His sentiment rattles in your head for a while. Sitting in the shop with babe in arm, balancing the books while he trances back home, you find yourself driven to wreck by the unholiest visions of him.
Burning heat. Underclothes missing.
Fingers ghost the burgeoning swell under your immaculate dress skirt.
Molten hot, sticky linen; keening desperately into the palm of his hand as you lean over the counter.
Fraught.
A veritable army of his children born from you.
There’s a charm in the way he pleads his case to you. You’re not one to deny him when he finds his joys - gods know he’s endured enough of that during his life - and you know all too well you bartered on the idea of three that first night.
You think long back to the night you met out in the wilderness.
How scared he must’ve been in retrospect; how haughty he came across. The rake. The rogue. How you’d slept with a knife strapped to your garter because you simply couldn’t get a grasp on his energy, what he wanted from the tadpole.
Astarion. Now every part the housecat.
You weigh the pros and cons in your mind.
Admittedly, the cons list is large.
You dislike delving into your own complications regarding the birth of the dhampling now sleeping soundly in your arms because for the most part, they feel trivial. Moot. So many beings across the realms rear young every single day.
However, you remember refusing to let yourself forget the sheer scalding pain many do.
The days of fraught groaning in that dark sweaty chamber. The awful, awful hunger. Blood.
The paranoia over any possible gaps in the heavy shutters. Asking Astarion to step in front of the window time and time over to check for the smallest of notches or splits, the hysterical fear of the sun coming into contact with the infant. Both breaking into tears from sheer exhaustion and heightened tension more times than you can recall.
The blood from your womb. Rancid. He later assured that if anything it was a genuinely indulgent smell; but to you it smelled of rot. Decay. White sheets covered in brown spidery spatters.
Then the relief. Unbridled. Wailing and wailing and wailing.
A part of you enjoys it. He knows you do. The quiet dominance carrying his child implies; the lifelong commitment it ensures.
And her.
The love of your life. Small and warm and breathing yet coloured with the pallid tones of her father. Reddened eyes, pointed ears. When she latches you now feel the sharp pins of burgeoning fangs.
He gave her to you. He gave you a life of normalcy; where the prospect of a future is real, as opposed to a far-flung hope shared over a bottle of cheap ale. Devastatingly beautiful, life-ruiningly stupid; and all yours. You had to teach him how to use a kettle, for Lathander’s sake. You still want him to fuck you, even after that.
But you love him. Ridiculous as it is, that love is more than enough. More than you ever hoped your lot in life to be.
If he wants you to give him babies, he can have babies. You want babies, but only if they are, indeed, his.
You sigh with a content resolve. Though life is long, these moments feel shorter and shorter.
Your home together will never see hazy stasis again.
-
The moment dusk begins to blossom you head home in new rain.
You whip through the door after balancing the close of your parasol with the carrier, satchel forgotten in the entryway and shoes quickly slipped under the bench. The wind outside whips furiously against the shutters and the unending downpour of rain threatens to encroach on your worn terracotta tile.
You carry the youngling carefully up the stairs as Astarion calls after you and place her in the cot, planting a firm kiss on her head and watching for a few moments until she settles.
He’s still sat whining in the den when you descend and turn the corner.
Glasses balanced on his nose, cross legged and covered in patchwork throws. Book balanced on one leg.
“What have you done to her? Why can’t I see her-’
You flit to him and close the book while he continues to protest loudly, placing it onto the carpet and sitting snugly in his lap. Legs astride his thighs, calves wrapping around his waist. Glasses placed on the sill.
‘What have you done?! Answer me woman!” He shrieks as you laugh, bringing his hands to your own waist and holding you tight. Shaking you up and down on his thighs like a bottle of Soldier’s Champagne. Eyes wide as yours in fresh glee.
“I love you. I love you.” You murmur through giggles, pressing your forehead to his. He laughs loudly.
“I love you too! But where is my daughter?!” He is taken aback in the most pleasant of ways - mouth wide in a clueless grin, brows furrowed. Puzzled.
You still in a wide smile.
“You saw me take her upstairs! She’s fine! Idiot!”
“Okay! Brilliant! Why-’
He gestures up and down at your bubbling form.
‘Why this!?”
You lean into him once more - not missing the way his eyes blow out when looking at your joyous lips - and bring him straight by the lapels before pulling him in for the deepest kiss you can give. Hungry, jubilant; life-worn and yet happy. So incredibly happy.
“What in the hells is going on?!” He laughs into your mouth between the little kisses you press to his lips in quick succession, cupping his face in your hands then wrapping your arms over his shoulders.
“Another one. Let’s do it.”
It takes him a few moments of blankly staring with the same wide smile plastering his face.
“What?”
“Another little child thing. With you. With me. Ours. Yes?”
It almost looks as if Astarion is going to crumble under the weight of your words.
The same stupid smile, unchanged. Eyes on the precipice of an incredibly serious emotion entirely dependent on your next words.
“Really?”
“No.”
“What?”
You shake your head and laugh.
“Of course really. Really really.”
Every single part of him switches alight. He bounces you in his lap once more and you see it in him. The joy. The plan coming to fruition. His stupidly reverent love for you and the dhampling asleep upstairs, the many ways in which he wants to see just how full the heart can grow with each one.
“Really really really?”
His voice drops to a low whisper. The honey tone. Dulcet and laced with ribbons of clandestine hope.
You roll your eyes fondly.
“Really really, really, really.”
-
Shirts delicately washed ruffle by intricate ruffle hanging beside the wood stove in the glass-room. Hands fresh of suds. Towel dried, oat balm. The faintest whiff of Noblestalk.
You smile knowingly.
“She’s asleep?”
You whisper a whine; crawling forward on the counter with your elbows, panting, intuitively angling at where you anticipate him once he sees you.
“Not for long, I-’
Astarion’s voice spasms on seeing the subtle shake of your hips. The reverberation of your ass.
‘I think.”
A growl.
“Quick. Now.”
He bunches your skirt at your waist by the hem and loosens the soft ties of his night trousers. Presses his newly freed cock flush against the pillow of your ass and reaches around your front to run icy fingers down the centre of your already keen wetness. A fire tool, a glacier, the hiss-relief of his incendiary touch as his hips curl up into your core.
“Bend over. Keep that skirt up.”
Your underclothes are tugged unceremoniously to the floor as he kneels, lifted leg-by-leg from you and shimmied aside. Lifts his perfect head under the front of your houseskirt and his nose unexpectedly pressures your clit, his forehead resting into the flesh of your pubic bone as he licks a wanton stripe along your sex. Affixes his lips around your sodden hole and indulges himself in tongue fucking you for a brief minute, savouring ever drop of your lust-hazed salt. Your back arches and you wish for not a single thing than to suffocate him between your burning thighs as he gives you the most immense pleasure with that infamous mouth.
Not now. He would probably cry.
Wasted opportunity.
Wasted opportunity to fuck you full of his cum.
Every chance you’re fertile is one he wants his cock filling you to the very hilt, rocking shallowly against the very barrier of your cervix just so he can be sure every last drop carries, to impregnate you once more.
His hand - pooling with your free-given spittle - strokes his aching prick with learned urgency as he takes his fill from your soak into his waiting mouth.
“Fuck me. Please, fuck me.” You stutter as you buck your hips, fucking yourself on his tongue.
He has the nerve to laugh, soundwaves resonating deep within the attraction of your heated core.
Shifts to take your clit between his lips and suckles, rolling over the bunch of engorged nerves with a thoroughly debauched tongue.
“Go on. Beg for it.” He speaks barely above a whisper, gravelly in intonation.
You can’t see his face but you just know his eyes are heavy-lidded in the anticipatory pleasure of hearing it.
Hearing that you want him to fuck you like a bitch in heat.
That you need him to pump his swollen head to white-hot relief between your spongy soaked walls; to smatter your cunt with his cum, to make you round by his doing once more.
“All the prespill you’re wasting in your hand could have had it, you know.’
You whisper quietly, knowing you don’t want the youngling asleep in her room to wake. You’re seething with pure lust.
‘Could’ve had the fertile seed. The one to give us life again.”
He growls, leaving his latch on your clit with one last long lick before standing and moving flush to your ass once more. He smacks the plump flesh as quietly as he can muster.
“Say that again and I’ll have to fuck you with my fingers first next time. Make sure we don’t miss anything.” He hisses.
You stifle a wanton laugh.
“Don’t threaten me with a- ah!”
He bobs at the entrance to your cunt, soaking his own weeping slit.
Astarion doesn’t waste time with ceremony as he takes your eager cunt in one fell swoop; cock bruising your insides in an agonisingly beautiful burn. His moans are shaky with sheer pleasure. Every one of your nerves are set alight as he stills for a moment at the hilt.
You’re almost sure if you moved even an inch now while he adjusts he’d ejaculate there and then.
“Say it.” He whispers, leaning over you as you arch over the counter. His hand moves to your belly and presses the skin over his cock hard.
The searing feeling of every single inch of him. The ghost of a whimper. Your eyes roll into your skull.
At any other time you’d joke.
But you - at the very hottest moment of your heat cycle - picture nothing aside from the leaking red slit of his cock currently rubbing in the slightest of ruts at the tip of your cervix, leaking prespill into your hungry womb like glacial water at the height of midsun.
Your walls tighten around him as he presses even harder into the spot just below your tummy.
“Take me.”
He snaps.
Pulling back to secure either side of your waist in both hands, he starts rutting furiously into you over and over, shallow wet glubs, hellbent lust evident in the cream ring crowning your waiting hole. The crease by his brow as his face crumples in desperation time and time again.
His fixation on your point of connection is unbreakable, watching the bounce of his cock as he fucks it into you; each twinge potentially giving the leakage that gives you it. The thing he desires most.
Another baby.
You’re cresting on the edge as it is. Between your duties to your young daughter, your own intellectual pursuits, and Astarion’s tailor shop; it’s been far too long since you’ve copulated as frantically, as desperately as you are now. Every pump inside you is another closer to glory and your fingers work your clit with the joyous fervour of a newly anointed priest.
He continues to fuck you against the counter.
The press of your heavy tits against the solid wood, the pebbling of milk-sodden nipples through your thin nursing blouse giving the dark oak a parallel run of glossy streaks with each of his thrusts.
Fucking hells.
Another one. Another dhampir. Mother of two, his again and again. Three become four. You will it to be as you watch the milky swirls on the counter.
You’ll be bursting with him once more. The sheer ruin.
The white hot glare of your orgasm comes thick and fast, and it takes everything in you not to shriek in sheer pleasure.
He sags.
Stutters.
Groans silently, aching cock kicking violently against your walls as he releases through the clench of your own spasms. Ropes upon ropes of cum plugged deep at the entrance to your cervix with the engorged head of his prick.
You roll your hips to aid him through his release, rocking a little back and forth to ensure the pointed tip spears every bit of his seed where necessary.
It takes a few moments for the white-blind to subside, for the beleaguered groans to give way to sloppy, soft kisses down your shoulder blades.
He stays until you hear the sound of stirring upstairs, lifting a hand to ensure you’re hearing correctly.
“I’ll go. Lie down, hips up?”
You laugh.
“Got it. Glad to see the doting in full effect so soon.”
One last kiss on the stretch of your neck. Thoughtful. Quiet. He holds you like he never wants to let go.
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
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m a y b e a bullfrog (or ray I don’t mind) with a FtM partner ? :3
Thank you for the request !
I gotta say I was a bit nervous about this one , this is the first ever FtM reader I’ve ever written … I really hope I got it right :,I
Details : use of FtM reader ( he/him pronouns are used ) ;
established relationships ;
no warnings needed
Bullfrog 💚
Okay , so three words : supportive frog boyfriend .
Bullfrog is the biggest sweetheart and he is going to support any decision you make regarding your identity .
He is going to love you no matter what , nothing is ever going to change that ❤️
If your hair ever gets too long for your comfort , Bullfrog will be more than happy to help you with it since I think he’d be pretty good at those aesthetic related things …
Plus it’s just very relaxing to feel his gentle touch on your head as he takes care of you …
< Thanks sweetie, I really appreciate it ~
I would’ve cut it myself , but you remember how it went last time , haha … >
< No need to thank me mon amour : you can always count on me . >
He definitely takes your preferences with pronouns and names very seriously , and if someone were to make you uncomfortable by not respecting them or saying something bad to you in general Bullfrog will definitely react accordingly : he may not be in favor of vengeance , but he won’t allow anyone to make his beloved upset , and he can be very …
Persuasive .
< Alright sir … I need you to listen to me , because I will not repeat myself .
Unless you start treating my y/n with the respect he deserves I’m afraid I can’t let you be near him . >
< Hah , and why would I be scared of … of …
Is that a … knife … ? >
< Oui , and I assure you it would be quite a shame to … go down this path .
I hope I’ve made myself clear . >
< Haha , yep ! Yeah , we’re clear , crystal clear !! >
Rayman 🧡
Rayman is just so proud of you for finding an identity that fits with who you want to be , and much like Bullfrog he is incredibly supportive of any choice you make .
I also believe that since he spent his whole life being cast out for who he was and what he looked like , he would definitely shower you with love and compliments to let you know that he accepts and loves the person that you’ve become .
< y/n … ? Have I told you how beautiful you are today ? >
< Hehe , you did , three times I think … but I won’t mind if you tell me again ~ >
< I just can’t help it , darling … when I look at you , I just can’t believe I got so lucky , y’know ? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me … I really mean that . >
< Aw Ray … I love you so much ~ >
If you need to use binders ? Rayman is going to make sure that you have the most comfortable ones he can find , discussing all the details with you to get something that works the best for you :
he just can’t stand the idea of his y/n hurting in any way , shape or form , and he wants to do his best to actively help you somehow .
< You okay honey ? Does it feel alright ? >
< Mhm , yeah ! Thanks again for helping me pick it Ray , this one fits so well ! >
Despite his very friendly and cheerful demeanor around other people , if somebody ever were to say something mean spirited about you …
Boy , he’s going to be pissed .
< Uh , excuse me … ? What was that about my partner ?
How about you leave him the hell alone ? >
Rayman is definitely very protective of you , and he’ll do anything to keep you safe , even if it means risking to damage his reputation as Eden’s voice …
You’re far more important to him than any of those things after all .
Ramon 🖤
Remember what I said about Rayman being protective of you ?
Well , now this man will go absolutely feral if anyone dares to even remotely touch you or say something bad to you .
You’re precious to him beyond any measure or logic , and this means that Ramon will often be quite careless about himself if it means keeping you safe …
< Ram , what was that ?? Those guys could’ve killed you ! >
< It’s fine … I’m … okay . >
< No you aren’t , you’re bleeding .
I can handle those kinds of comments , I’ve dealt with them before , you know that …
I don’t want you to throw yourself at dangerous situations for me , isn’t that what you always tell me not to do ? >
< That’s different … hiss - >
< Careful , don’t move around too much … that’s a deep cut , we need to patch it up right away . >
< … thanks y/n … sorry about that .
I just - when I heard them call you those terrible names , I couldn’t just … >
< It’s okay sweetie , just take it easy … I’ll take care of you , now and always . >
Sometimes you like to surprise Ramon by wearing his clothes ( even though they’re often a bit small ) , especially his coat , and the way he smiles while staring at you never fails to make your heart skip a beat …
You really are the only reason for happiness he has left .
< Heh … what are you doing ? >
< Well it was getting a bit cold , and your coat was right there , soo … I thought I’d try it on for a little while ~
I can take it off if you want though - >
< No no , you can keep it … looks good on you , love ~ >
Overall , Ramon will do all he can to make you see how much he cares about you and that he really can’t live without you in his life :
expect lots of physical affection , which also includes gentle caresses and kisses on your scars ( only if you’re okay with it of course ) … anything he can do to make you feel appreciated ? He’ll do it .
< God , you’re so pretty , y/n … I wish we could stay like this forever … >
#captain laserhawk#x reader#bullfrog x reader#rayman x reader#bullfrog captain laserhawk#captain laserhawk bullfrog#captain lazerhawk rayman#captain lazerhawk bullfrog#rayman#ftm reader
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Sherlock fandom. John wants to buy Mrs. Hudson a present, and Sherlock is quite willing to help.
Expedition at nighttime
“Have you ever been to a mall before, Sherlock?” John asks one evening.
Sherlock who’s been sprawled on the sofa, sits up at this unconventional question.
“A mall, John? Whatever for? And besides, I don’t care for your assault on the English language by using American substitutes,” Sherlock scoffs.
“Oh, excuse me, Your Highness, but mall is quite a bit easier to say than shopping centre. Now, will you answer my question or not?” John proceeds unperturbed.
Sherlock sighs dramatically and adds an impressive eyeroll for good measure before he answers.
“Mummy used to take us to Harrod’s to see the Christmas decorations, but it’s been decades. Why on earth do you ask? You’re not exactly a fan of shopping. Last time you went to Tesco I believe you had a row with a chip and…”
“Yes, enough of reminding me of that, thank you very much,” John states briskly and flushes adoringly.
Sherlock just cocks an eyebrow at him encouraging John to answer properly.
“Fine. It’s just…I thought we could buy Mrs. Hudson something nice for her birthday next week,” John sighs and rubs his neck.
“Ah, yes! Tesco won’t suffice, I take it,” Sherlock muses.
“Sherlock!”
“I was teasing you, John. Calm down. Well, perhaps I can be of assistance. The owner of Selfridges owes me…”
“Let me guess – a favour?” John chuckles.
Sherlock just waves a dismissive hand at him, retrieves his phone from his trouser pocket and sends a text.
***
John gets Sherlock’s text at his lunch break, and almost chokes on his BLT-sandwich.
We’re going to Selfridges tonight at 11.30. SH
They’re closed at that hour, Sherlock.
As expected, John gets no answer to his text.
Sherlock’s out when John gets home from the surgery, but there’s a note underneath the skull.
Be ready at 11 pm. SH
“So, I take it you won’t need dinner then,” John mutters under his breath.
Despite his exasperation with his best friend, he can’t help the tingling sensation in his body when he thinks about their nightly excursion.
True to his word, Sherlock arrives in a cab at 11pm, and John’s standing at the pavement in front of 221 Baker Street and waits eagerly.
When they reach the large building on Oxford Street, an impeccably dressed man greets Sherlock vigorously. John is actually quite proud of Sherlock for not insulting the man with an embarrassing deduction, but instead puts on a smile, everyone close to Sherlock would know is a fake.
“Mr. Holmes, it’s a pleasure to finally get to help you out,” the man says, still shaking Sherlock’s hand.
“Well, yes, Mr. Dougherty. I’m glad you are amenable to my peculiar request,” Sherlock replies, and succeeds to withdraw his hand from the other man’s grip.
“This is, Jo…”
“Come in, Mr. Holmes,” Mr. Dougherty says with admiration seeping out of every pore, totally ignoring John.
Sherlock stiffens immediately and a cold look in his eyes, tells John that Sherlock’s beyond annoyed. Mr. Dougherty’s clearly oblivious to the change in Sherlock’s demeanour and chats about trivialities neither John nor Sherlock comment on.
“I’ll call at your office when we’re finished,” Sherlock says and swirls around, heading to the escalators. “Come on, John.”
Mr. Dougherty gapes like a fish on land, and John can’t help but smirk. Flirting with Sherlock Holmes is one thing, disregarding John when Sherlock’s tried to introduce him, is a thing Mr. Dougherty might live to regret.
***
Being alone in this grand building with the lights dimmed, adds something mysterious to the whole experience. John feels like he’s in a movie, and he finds the shadows a bit eerie, but a glance over at Sherlock makes him grin, and he’s determined to enjoy this ridiculous ride.
Avoiding Christmas and birthdays himself, should’ve made Sherlock uninterested in buying gifts, but what John’s about to experience, is that he’s a rather skilled shopper.
Sherlock’s obviously memorised the map showing the different shops, and heads confident to the food department, scans the items for a few seconds, before he grabs a glass of vanilla honey and a gift set of different teas. He shows them to John for approval.
“What do you think, John? Will she like these?” he asks, his eyes glow in the dim light.
“You know she will,” John says and takes the offered gifts while Sherlock turns to the escalators.
“Glove department, next,” Sherlock tells John.
John shakes his head in amusement. Sherlock acts like a child being set free at Hamley’s.
***
Sherlock’s delicate fingers stroke over smooth leather, and John must swallow hard at the sight. He’s placed the other items at a nearby counter and leans closer to look at the different gloves Sherlock’s picked out. The proximity and Sherlock’s unique scent, makes John’s head dizzy. Without thinking he moves closer and steadies himself with a hand on the small of Sherlock’s back. Sherlock inhales sharply and closes his eyes briefly.
“John,” he breathes, his deep voice stirring something in John. Something that’s lingered in the bottom of his heart for what feels like decades.
“Come here,” John murmurs and lifts his other hand to Sherlock’s jaw, cupping it gently.
A moan escapes Sherlock and his eyes opens slowly to gaze into John’s. He forgets all about gloves and pulls John to him with a tenderness John didn’t think Sherlock was capable of. He licks his lips and brushes his thumb over the perfect mouth above him. Sherlock’s tongue darts out and licks quickly before retreating.
“Tease,” John whispers, before Sherlock closes the gap between them and kisses him.
I just walked by the building last week, and it seemed only natural to let the boys have an unusual excursion to the posh establishment.
@flashfictionfridayofficial @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely @blogstandbygo
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Nothing Beats That Crimson Love
People just simply don’t understand how much Ian loves Mickey. They see how much Mickey has gone through to be with Ian, but they don’t realize Ian’s journey to be with Mickey. Ian has loved Mickey from the very beginning. He loved him so much, that Mickey was actually the catalyst for Ian’s first bipolar episode. No, I’m not saying that Ian never would have been bipolar had he and Mickey’s relationship not have gone south in Season Three. What I am saying both as a therapist and someone with bipolar disorder is that there may be subtle symptoms before the first episode, but the first major bipolar episode is generally triggered by a stressful situation. That situation for Ian was Mickey marrying Svetlana.
Ian knew there were risks attached to being with Mickey. He knew Terry would not give them any peace. He wanted to be with Mickey anyway. He wanted them to be out. He was always proud of what they had. He simply wanted to love the person he loved on their own terms. Fast forward to Season 7. Ian had a stable relationship with Trevor, a good job, loving family. What does he do? He leaves it all behind to run away with Mickey. No, he ultimately didn’t go all the way to Mexico, but I think he really wanted to. Some might say his better judgment won out in the end, I think it was fear. The fact that he went with Mickey for as long as he did proved that he loved him beyond measure in my book. He and Trevor were never the same after that. The Caleb thing was D.O.A. Ian never fit with anyone the way he fit with Mickey, and he knew it.
Hell, in Season 10, Ian wants to throw his freaking parole so he can stay in prison with Mickey, but Mickey won’t let him. Ian threatened to kill his own brother if he hit Mickey again, and he totally meant that sh!t. Ian loves Mickey with his whole entire heart. And he has ever since he looked just like this.
That is why we get this face at the wedding. He can't believe that he finally gets to call Mickey his. Forever. Without all the interference. Without all the drama. Out. Proud. Forever. Ian LOVES him some Mickey. You bet your *ss he does.
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> “So I have to do everything I’m told and asked, and like, love every second of it, it’s really fucked up, and I know that, but I still really want to do it, fucking /desperately/. Worse than our angel help programming. It’s going to make me happy. I know it will. I haven’t experienced it really yet beyond a dumb mistake and a conflicting mindset too distracting to be proud of, but it’s going to, it’s the right thing to do, maybe we. Can test it. If anyone..”
Rook stares at Mads Altair incredulously, nose a little scrunched up at the angel’s weird intense energy and abnormal conviction, but raises an eyebrow at the sudden change of tune.
“I thought you wanted me to make you stop enjoying it. Is it /that/ fucked up, that you can’t even truly hate it?”
“..Yeah,” he mumbles, grinding his teeth in a strained grin, “It’s that fucked up, but maybe it really will make me as happy as a dog gets about it, which is pretty fucking happy.”
“Okay, well..” They pause, tapping their wand on their opposite tattooed palm. “Fly a loop around the outside of the house.”
Altair is out the door almost before Rook can designate the location, wings unfolding behind him and flapping a little excitedly in the open room. They watch him leap off the edge of the island like there's something to land on, but instead of hitting a ledge, his purple feathers catch him in the air, taking him with a twist of his body in a loop around the building he'd just exited. Mads lands in a rushed stumble back on floating ground, a shaky grin on his face and a light in his eyes. He rushes back inside, stopping before Rook to step from foot to foot excitedly, truly like a dog after running around the yard on command, face bright with innocent anticipation.
Rook knows what he wants out of this, most likely, or at least what his instincts want, and reaches out to pat Mads' fidgeting hand. "Good job, I think that was a new record. You really got a lot of improvement out of that aerodynamics stuff, huh, that's impressive." Their compliment is genuine, and hits home, filling the empty space that this magic had created in the angel's inner soul.
He very much feels it, a pure joy and pride that wells up into the hole in his chest and overflows, a feeling like Mads had done something incredible, that mattered, like he had earned some measure of worth. The latter thought, when caught, lingers, a deeply tempting reason to let this continue..just to feel like he's worth something, more than being useful on his own could ever let him. But lower in his soul, suppressed under the magic and its rush, the nauseating twist of knowing these actions and feelings were chosen for him taints the man's aching desire for inherent value. This isn't a favor to him. It's just another careful lesson to make him more fun to play with. He doesn't want to be fun, Altair would rather be a broken puppet left to rot than 1 in use, strung up and along and forced to smile and laugh while he appeases someone cruel. Even wanting this, Mads' fear, deep down, what it always came to in the end, intensifies beyond his ecstasy. The terror as he looks up at his own strings from their helpless grip, seeing new threads wrapped around his mind, is too much, and the angel's smile falters into shaking, his hands clenching into tense fists.
"No, this. This isn't. Right. It's- it's how it should be- I can't take it. I don't want it. I'm so fucking trapped, /please/, if you can at least. Make me stop..thinking. Like this. About it."
Madison Rook may not be Madison Altair anymore, but their deepest fears are still shared, and they understand what draws the man's doubts to the surface of his manipulated mindset. They understand, they sympathize, but that doesn't mean they won't use it to their advantage. Rook tilts their horned head, considering their twin and his active crisis.
"Apologize for what you did to me, first. And mean it. Then I'll help you."
Mads' shoulders tense, but he laughs, even more strained but giddy at the manageable command, his words dragging his thoughts along behind them as they leave his lips against his will.
"Fantastic, sure, yeah, I fucking stabbed you, multiple times, I'm so sorry, really, definitely, I-"
Rook interrupts the chipper claim and its accompanying twisted smile and says "And don't enjoy it. Just make it normal and sincere."
Pausing, Altair blinks and takes a deep breath, momentarily freed from his inescapable glee. He tries again, and somehow it hurts more.
"..yeah. I hurt you. You hurt someone I cared about, more than was necessary, you left invisible scars and made her afraid of me because of what you did. I knew that you..regretted it. When I confronted you. You apologized. You'd already punished yourself. But I needed to do it myself, to make sure it was done right." It isn't hostility, but discomfort in his thin voice through gritted teeth, explaining himself in terms that sound cruel even to him, even as justified as they felt for so long. "I thought I needed to go as far as you did. For the lesson to sink in. ..But I could've stopped 1 sword in. Or I- I could've just not done that at all, and just yelled at you," he corrects himself as Rook glares, dissatisfied with the reluctance to fully retract his intentions.
"You could've not yelled at me, either. You called me horrible things. Maybe I needed to be confronted about my actions, but considering you were trying so hard to redeem Patches, you sure didn't seem willing to give me any second chances." The tiefling speaks with bitterness in their tone, remembering all the pain they'd been dealt. "You still haven't apologized."
"You're. Right. I'm. ..Sorry. You..didn't deserve. The excess punishment. That I took upon myself to give." He stares at the floor, unable to keep hiding his shame under sharp defenses. "I've made mistakes just as bad, and. If you had done that to me, for what I did..I guess I'd be just as upset and scared as you were..and. Still are. It feels like something I would have deserved, yeah. But I still wouldn't have. Deserved it from you. You didn't, either. And you shouldn't have had to be so afraid of being around me for so long. ..I realize that was. As long-term a wound. As you gave. If not more so. I remember when you tried to. Change your face, so you wouldn't have to look at me in the mirror. And so you wouldn't make me upset by existing around me. I..I'm sorry I made you feel that way about your identity. And for hating you just for being me, for so long after that."
Rook is quiet for several seconds, considering what the man they used to be had admitted and regretted, before they respond, "Look me in the eye, and say you regret hurting me."
They make eye contact, narrowed and pained meeting narrowed and judging, and there's a longer silence than there should be for a magic as urgent as this.
"..I regret. Hurting you. You came a long way and made up for a lot, far more than what I judged you for..and I sure didn't contribute to that. In any positive way. You helped me more than I deserved for how I treated you. I'm sorry. That I took that anger out on you."
Analyzing his stare, his resigned but sincerely mournful voice, Rook decides that's real enough for them. Reaching out again, the sorcerer puts a violet hand on the sleeve of Mads Altair's suit, a blue glow surrounding their hand as the gentle sound of rushing ocean tides washes away his thick layer of enforced enthusiasm for this state, like lifting heavy mud from his thoughts, freeing dozens of panicked complaints suppressed to the point of silence, complaints that immediately give the angel plenty of new things to stress about. But those are just noise under such a relief to have his mind fully his own again, despite what the strings may make his body do in the future. A freedom he often takes for granted, so easily returned from what felt like an immovably forceful grip. It's as if he scoops up all his now-freed feelings and opinions and gives them a warm hug, but for lack of that proper expression towards his state of mind, Madison Altair hugs his duplicate instead, grateful for the results of their spell.
They go rather stiff at first, but relax, hug Mads in return, and pet his hair a bit. Rook understands his fear of control. And they understand his relief to be free of it. It's the least they could do for finally forcing a makeup conversation, to release the charm given to twist him into a better toy. He would do the same for them. He understands their fear too. It's better if they're on each others' side. Few others would be able to support each other like this. ..They've wanted his support for a long time.
"Alright. Thank you. I believe you. ..I forgive you."
Mads doesn't respond, just makes a weak crying sound from the shoulder of Rook's cloak, and hugs his recurring savior tighter.
#action#viewed ooc#No Strings (ic)#((i was gonna give it a title but then tumblr took away the option lmao#((god i hope the colors aren't unreadable i just really needed to distinguish them#((better than black font on dark themes!#seashaper#ooc save
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Hey❤
Can you do a fic for BSD characters with a pregnant s/o.The characters can be be Chuuya,Ranpo,Atsushi.
I can indeederoo you didn’t give me much detail but I’ll just go for it ~~~ I aged Atsushi up imagine he’s 25 or smth
Chuuya Nakahara
You announced the pregnancy in a pretty cute way, you bought a little suit and naw it was just adorable because your Husband had just come home from work and was feeling a little brain dead
Chuuya stared at you for a solid ten minutes after he figured out that meant your were pregnant but as soon as he processed it he pulled you in for the biggest hug ever ~ this stays a secret for as long as you both can keep it such
The first person he does tell is Koyo
Throughout the pregnancy he’s there as often as he can for the highs and lows and scares and joys even when he has to work- the baby kicked? Suddenly he’s got the day off absolutely fuck the PM
You get a food craving? He’ll get it but if it’s too weird he may make himself busy so he doesn’t have to be asked to try it lmao
He feels super proud, excited and scared to become a father. He doesn’t want his kid to have his abilities- if you have some he hopes they have yours otherwise an ability free baby sounds alright to him. He doesn’t want to feel afraid but he’s scared that somehow his time before the sheep will come and take you away - it won’t he won’t let that happen
And when the time comes for you to give birth regardless of where he is he’s there. No missions during the due month nothing at all so he can be there and hold his child with you.
He’d make a pretty good dad especially since when he held them the first time he just knew he’d do absolutely anything for them
Ranpo Edogawa
You the audience may think he already know but no… no this man is so blind to it that you have to just tell him, don’t bother with cute clues he won’t get it
He’s very cute about it though, he’s not really ready to be a dad but he’s super excited about it because he genuinely thinks he’ll be the best dad ever
The first person he tells is obviously Fukuzawa before about a month later (at your pleading) telling the others in the office who are all very excited for you and your snack loving partner
This man will eat your food cravings with you, no matter how strange it could end up being or even if it’s just some toast with butter on it he’s willing to eat them with you - and if you are a cook? Bro your dinners are gonna be the best
When it begins to really hit him that hey his partner is having an actual child he gets worried for a little while, he knows he himself can act like one at times but he’s fully prepared to be there for you
And you know that little moment parents get when they see their child for the first time? Yeah he gets that and while he might go overboard sometimes he’s a really good dad with a really sweet baby
Atsushi Nakajima
Please give him a tiger plush that just says it straight up. He may be in his 20’s now but he’s still just a big softie
Though he does panic immediately after being told. It’s not that he doesn’t want kids with you he does, he wants to be the best fiancé ever but it’s a little stunning is all. He’s over the moon, joyous beyond measure but scared because he doesn’t want to end up like the Headmaster
The first person he tells is obviously Kyoka his little sister but he also tells Yosano because hey she’s a doctor and maybe she can help with the whole morning sickness thing because he gets queasy every time you get it
He’s such an incredible partner (it’s why you agreed to marry him) he’s giving you back rubs, foot rubs, food runs everything possible because his anxiety is through the roof and he wants to be the best fiancé I’m existence to you.
He is so scared he’ll miss milestones too but slowly he gets into his own groove of it and realises he isn’t missing anything and is just over the moon every time he sees your round belly and he’s just like I have a little kitten in there (or something else sickeningly cute)
Like Ranpo though he gets that immediately click with his baby and he doesn’t want to take his eyes off them (you hope the baby has his eyes at that)
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd fluff#Bungou stray dogs fluff#chuuya nakahara#ranpo edogawa#atsushi nakajima
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Here we are! I’m proud and anxious to present to you my first published fanfic!
Sorry in advance for all the errors you could find in my writing! Do not hesitate to report them !
So…It’s about the first meeting between Karl and Buttons. I really wanted to talk about Karl who is one of my favourite ✨ please enjoy and thank you for reading me !
The human in the moonlight
“There wasn’t much to say. Days passed and looked alike. They flew along the Caribbean beaches and harbors. When they didn’t find any food, they went into the lands. Insects and filed mice, that changed a little from shellfish. Sometimes they were lucky: sailors left some crumbs of bread or dried fish on the floor. Then they would peck greedily. And when the love season sounded, they went to other lands to carry out their affairs.
As a result, gull life was something simple. The wind carried them out to sea, and when they became tired, all they had to do was land on the water before returning to the road.
As for human’s places, it was not difficult to venture there. All you had to do was to act like they never existed. Bipeds are not very hostile, and above all, they have never been very clever. In fact, their stupidity and aggressiveness varied from one individual to another. Their violence seemed mostly directed towards their fellow man and manifested itself in senseless things.
Karl had already seen men kill each other many times. With their bare hands, with their feet. Sometimes with instruments of their invention. They were controlling new objects each time more horrible than the ancient ones. They were able to pierce any piece of wood or any stone. Those things that spewed lightning, their sound always made Karl and his friends scream and ran away flapping their wings.
The horror that Karl felt when he saw this violence was extraordinary. It had nothing to do with the one he felt about other dangerous animas – he remembered when he had to save Olivia from this huge wild cat. But this fear that war roaring in her little body…This was like he felt a superior danger with humans. So, he had made the choice, since a long time already, to stay away from bipeds. Because too many of them had already tried to hurt him or his flying friends. Some of them died because of their wickedness.
Olivia, who had a more measured opinion, didn’t understand Karl’s fears. His unwillingness to come near coasts and harbors had already started a fight between them. Because Karl wasn’t spending as much time with Olivia as he used to. He always flew away from her and other seagulls, and he stayed in the trees when they had to go near a human village.
“You must go through this, she was screaming. I can’t handle it anymore, neither can the group. You’re always behind us and I’m afraid that one day, you’ll lost yourself.
- I can’t do it, Olivia. It’s beyond my capacities.
- But why do you care so much about them or what they did? You won’t change anything by avoiding them. It’s sad but it’s true. We must live with humans if we want to eat.
- But why living and feeding must be so dangerous and difficult? He was totally frightened when he said that. He wouldn’t let the world be like this. Violence, the death of his loves one… He already knew that, and he didn’t want to live it again.
- But that’s how it is! Olivia protested. To Karl, this was like Olivia accepted misery and unhappiness. Before that, things were as much dangerous as today, even there was no humans, she added. You must understand that we can’t do anything about this.
- Well, then life is unfair!”
Even when this beautiful bird made Karl’s heart beats, fear prevailed. His anxiety, his memories of the dead birds haunted him. It was already there before Olivia and him had fallen in love. He admired her courage, her calm and even her wisdom. But despite all of this, despite the love of Olivia, he was terrified of the world. He couldn’t stand against humans.
…
One night Olivia’s fears came true. The island they were leaving was lit by lanterns. Ships glittered off the coast. And more the seagulls were rising in the sky, more those lights were disappearing. Karl was upside down. He watched the biped’s ships, fearing they would fire a cannonball or something like that. But he couldn’t see, while he was flying, that his fellows and him were rising in the clouds.
There was nothing to see anymore. Clouds were so thick. The wind was blowing softly. Karl called Olivia and his friends, but nobody answered. “Olivia? Archibald? Where are you?” he kept screaming in the sky. He was flying without knowing where he should go. Little by little the panic was taking possession of his body. He was so disoriented that he was making circles in the air before flying right straight in a random direction. Now the anxiety had the control. It was like he couldn’t even see! “Olivia! Olivia where are you? Answer me, please!”
For a few minutes his wings kept flapping in panic. And then, he fell into the void. He was now too tired, too confused to keep going. He was falling in the sky just like a dead leaf. His wings were flapping weakly to struggle against gravity. He crawled from right to left and, in the end, was out of the clouds. He had gradually lost consciousness, because of the fear and the tiredness.
…
The first thing he felt when he came to his senses was the heat of the floor. It was warm wood, soaked in the sun’s ray. He opened his eyes and then he saw the deck of a ship appears. Now the moon was high in the sky and clouds had disappeared.
Quickly warned by the danger of the place where he was – a ship! A place crawling with humans! – he got up on his webbed feet and arranged his feathers. But hopefully, the place was empty. The humans were probably sleeping. But something was wrong. Despite the only sound of the wind, Karl felt seen.
When he managed to calm down, he made his wings flap to jump on a railing, to get ready to go – But where? He lost Olivia’s track. How could he find her now?
He didn’t have the time to answer this question: he just heard a noisy breathing behind him. He turned himself and saw, on the stern of the boat, a human who was staring at him. He had no clothes on his body, and his bare head was shining in the moonlight. His eyes weren’t blinking, just like bird’s eyes. Normally, Karl would have fled in such a situation, but here, he was like petrified, unable to know where he must go to find Olivia.
The man kept standing here, 10 meters away from Karl, without making any noise. Without moving. Several minutes passed. They brought Karl to his senses, little by little. Seeing that the man was still not moving, Karl opened his wings and screamed to frightened him. But the man didn’t move even a toe.
Seeing the immobilism of the biped, Karl thought that, maybe, he could go. While he was looking after the man with the corner of his eyes, he tried to figure out where Olivia could be. Suddenly, he heard:
“Buttons. ‘Name’s Buttons. Yers?” The voice startled him. Why was the biped talking to him? As if humans understood seagulls. There was no point in answer to him.
“Looking for yer friends? They went right there” Buttons said while he was pointing a direction in the sky. Karl was astounded. Why in heavens was he talking to a bird? And why was he helping?
As if he was answering to his questions, the biped said: “I look at birds. It’s useful. Passes the time. The captain doesn’t want me to eat the others.” Silence. Karl and Buttons looked at each over. After a moment, the human’s face the moon again. He opened his arms, just like to embrace the cold light of the night. Karl stayed on his feet, without knowing what to do. Now he had the way to find out Olivia, he however knew he was too much exhausted to take the road again. He needed some rest. In a safe place. Suddenly he asked himself if he might be safe here, with this human? Why didn’t he feel in danger here?
“Ye want to take a moon bath with me? It’s important for the feathers.” Said Buttons. The situation was becoming totally absurd, thought the seagull. Now a human was inviting him to take a moon bath – and how the hell did he know that it was important for feathers? Karl hesitated a moment before walking carefully, step by step, towards the biped. When he came on the stern, he hesitated a little bit more. But then he took his courage and opened his wings just like Buttons did. And here, on the railing, all tired and confused he was, he embraced the moon with a human for the first time.”
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2022 writing self-evaluation✍️
Thank you @greenblueish for tagging me 💜
1. Number of stories posted to AO3 this year: 4
2. Word count posted for the year: 189 907 (woah)
3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction
4. Pairings: Larry
5. Story with the most:
Kudos: love is a word, you gave it a name
Bookmarks: love is a word, you gave it a name
Comments: love is a word, you gave it a name
6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):
I mean it has to be love is a word you gave it a name because that was a journey and somehow I finished it😭 and obviously because I took a biiig bite with that. The whole gender aspect, internalized homophobia, mental health issues, falling in love... there was a lot going on and three chapters in I wanted to give up so bad. But I didn't !
7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):
this does in no mean I am not proud of this work, I just wish I would have been able to write more for it. so it has to be I'm insatiable it's all your fault
8. Share or describe a favourite review you received:
I love every single comment on ao3, I am beyond grateful for every single person who reached out in dms on twitter, and everyone who keeps hyping my fic up.
I can't share a favorite, I have so many.
9. A time when writing was really, really hard:
Chapter 3 in love is a word. It was constant writing, deleting, crying, writing, deleting, crying... 💀 there wasn't even anything particularly difficult to write in that chapter ! It just didn't seem to flow at all. I had never wanted to give up so bad.
10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:
Didn't really surprise me per se, but I finally dared to put cunningulus and vaginal sex in my abo 😂 I had been hesitant to be very descriptive about it before, being too worried it turns my readers off. But I loved every second of it ! Pussy, folds, lips... 🤭 and judging by the comments and kudos, people didn't hate it.
11. A favourite excerpt of your writing:
"I won’t forget you. And that you were, will always be, my first love, and my baby. My sweetest dove," Louis murmurs, fingers softly digging onto Harry's jaw. With a soft smile, he whispers, "Will always be my bumblebee."
Harry should be able to say something equally sweet, something just as beautiful, but he can’t, because his brain is short circuiting, and his throat is burning again with the sobs that will probably never end.
Much to his relief, Louis sees it all, and chooses to kiss him to spare him from having to come up with something to say.
12. How did you grow as a writer this year:
hmmm. I think my general skills as a storyteller developed a lot. I feel like on some parts IIIAYF is written way better than LIAW. And while I haven't published my wip yet, I think for the most part it's a lot better than anything I put out this year.
13. How do you hope to grow next year:
I hope, again, that I could stop being so hard on myself but that will probably never happen.
14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):
@stylesthebrave my beloved, and everyone I met on twitter this year.
15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:
hehehehe. Always. Yes. Something. One shall never know what.
16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:
Don't worry about cliches, stories that have already been written, authors that are getting more attention... The story that's planned in your head is unique, and no one else can write it the way you do. Your mind is beautiful.
And most importantly, your worth is not measured by statistics.
17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:
Finish the sequel to LIAW ! Hallelujah ! And starting my cliche fic heheh.
18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.
I feel like everyone has already done this so I don't know :(
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Hey,
Lesbian anon here.
So I finally had the talk with my fiancé and I came out to him. Told him how amazing of a human being he is but that sadly, apart from attachment and platonic friendship... I don’t feel any sexual attraction towards him or men in general. He was really shocked and speechless most of the time, kinda stoic expression and it made me super nervous. But nothing malicious. And didn’t say anything that was hurtful.
He asked me if I’m 💯 sure about it, if there’s a chance I could be bisexual... that all of this is new and maybe I could fancy him later. I told him I don’t think I am. I told him I’m still emotionally attached to him and I’ll always love him but I don’t think I can be what he wants me to be.
He said he’s okay with it as long as that’s how I really feel. And said he will be there for me if I needed him when it comes coming out to my family and would just support me through it all. Honestly it took me by surprise that he wasn’t mad and chose to make it about me and comfort me, when I was the one letting him down. I felt so bad but it had to be done.
Also he said he don’t mind pretending to being my fiancé till come out officially.
I feel blessed beyond measure to have him in my life. He’s such a sweetheart. He chose our friendship instead of being bitter about his unfulfilled relationship.
That's amazing!!! I'm so happy to hear that he took it well and that he's being so kind and understanding. I know this is probably a difficult time for both you and him, but I'm very very very happy to hear that he took it well and that you still have him as a friend. He sounds like a really wonderful friend. Oh my god I'm so happy for you. I'm so proud of you <3 I hope that things continue to go well for you. Coming out isn't easy, and I'm so happy for you that you were able to come out to him. Like genuinely that's amazing, and from the bottom of my heart I wish you absolutely nothing but the best.
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Can’t wait for baby Thornton, you know how much I just adore Topper BUT…ima be selfish and say I want another Cameron baby Mack! 😂 I think baby Thornton would put y/n and Rafe back into baby mode - like oh my god it’s so trying but so worth it - I keep remembering that chapter where y/n says that if another baby is what Rafe wants, they’d try. Baby Cameron would have to be a boy though but it’d be a similar scenario to the Connor reveal, where in the midst of trying times, this miracle is revealed. Baby Thornton, however would be spoilt and just loved beyond measure and I’m so looking forward to this! I can imagine the baby being a girl, don’t know how Topper would raise a little guy but I guess not know is part of the fun? 😂💗
As usual, Love ya Mack and you’re doing amazing with your postings and sticking to schedule and I’m proud of you. Happy 1 year on your page bestie 🥳 The way you write is just indescribable, you’re amazing and have this special way with words. You’re able to make readers feel genuine emotion whilst reading and that’s rare. Love ya loads, Your #1 Monique 🫶🏾💗
MY GIRL!
you bring up a very valid point in that you know mister rafe cameron seeing y/n with a baby again would send him RIGHT BACK into baby mode lmao. i love hearing your thoughts!!! thank you <3
thank you very much for your words of encouragement. i've been struggling to write a bit lately, so the words mean more than you could ever know! im so glad you enjoy my work. it's kept me going throughout this entire year. love you bunches, sweetness! xoxo
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Visit - An Emilia and Gustavo Drabble
A gift for @senshirei who’s overcome a very challenging time the past few months. I am blessed beyond measure to know her, happy to call her my friend, and I’m so proud of all her strength and her accomplishments on her journey. You are so loved Elle, and I’m so glad you’re in my life.
~ * ~
The autumn that year was nonexistent for Emilia, or at least one she wanted to block from memory as she laid in bed, staring out at the crisp winter scene outside her window. Pepa made it snow, and while physically she could go out and enjoy it, she still couldn’t bear to go back out and risk seeing her boys. Her friends, her neighbors. It all felt overwhelming as she stayed in bed.
As she stared out her window, a familiar ponytail crossed the windowpane, and she practically turned white as she hid under her blanket. Why would he be here? Why would he be here now?
“Emilia - you have a visitor!”
No shit, she thought.
Emilia turned her head away from the door and curled into a ball when her visitor came inside. If it wasn’t that bushy ponytail that gave it away, she could tell who he was by the smell of the paella he brought to the family. The last thing she wanted was for Gustavo to see her cry...
“Hey.” He rapped a knuckle on the doorframe and sauntered inside toward the chair by her bed. He sat down delicately, looking at the mound of blankets rolled up on the mattress. He smiled. “Hey, c’mon...I know you’re not sleeping.”
His hand gently touched a lump, and rubbed it softly. Before long, Emilia’s head poked out with messy hair from where he rubbed it against the blanket. His smile never wavered.
“I made your family your favorite,” he said. “I thought this time I could stay and enjoy it with you if you’d like to join me.”
Behind him, just out of view, were little wooden capybaras he’d sent her over the last few months with little sketches attached of houses, people, trees, and animals. All of them arranged by when they were received, or by how waterlogged with tears the art pieces seemed to be.
“I’m still not feeling well,” she told him. It wasn’t a lie, but not the whole truth either.
Gustavo leaned in again to brush the hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “That’s okay,” he told her. “Between us,” he leaned in to whisper, “it’s not my best batch anyway. I can make a better one for you when you are feeling better.”
She allowed herself to smile a little as she moved the blanket to give way for him to lie beside her. Gustavo took the invitation and laid down, holding her close to him as she rubbed her cheek to his chest.
“I miss you...” Her voice cracked against him.
“I miss you too, kid...” He pet her hair. “I’m starting to run out of drawing ideas to send you. You better get well soon fast before I start sending drawings of Bruno Madrigal or something.”
She hiccuped a bit with a laugh and brought her wrist up to wipe her eye. “...You don’t have to go yet soon do you?”
“Nope.”
“Your dad isn’t expecting you to work?”
“Emilia,” Gustavo told her, reassuringly, “Nothing - absolutely nothing - on this Earth is going to drag me out of this bed until we have some time to talk and catch up. Okay?” He pet her hair again. “I love you.”
Her face pressed harder against him, and he felt hot tears against his shirt along with her small heaving sobs. The sight brought tears to his own eyes as he held her close, his hand protective on the back of her head like the dear little sister she was to him.
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Mixed stuff :)
For @tragiclyhip to cheer her up. And ‘cause there’s TJ in there and she LOVES herself some TJ
@innerpaperexpertcloud, @secretaryunpaid
Never mind how cute my husband looks, are those mixers behind him on sale?
#theimportant things #kiddinghoney #loveyoutons and tons #ineedanewmixerforthestoretho #Iwanthtatpinkone
New baby means new ink! More initials and dates to be added :)
Hub’s is away on a boys’ trip (the three oldest and Koen and him going camping, fishing, hiking, hunting, quadding, all that good shit) and it was wacky hair day at school and you know what this one had the nerve to say after my hard work?
“Daddy would have done something a lot more wacky.”
I picked that suit out. Cleans up nice, doesn’t he?
Baby Kota. Look at those cheeks!
Like Addie is Tyler’s baby, this one is mine. My first boy. I heard a saying that a mom is a son’s first true love, and a son is his mother’s last true love. This kid is so amazing. He’s beautiful and he’s thoughtful and protective and isn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right and for those who can’t stand up for themselves. He’s energetic and playful, athletic and strong, thoughtful and brave, compassionate and sensitive. The man of the house when dad is away. He’s a talented surfer and a great football and lacrosse player and is accepting of everyone. He has a heart that’s bigger than his body and he love so completely, deeply, and profoundly. He is growing so quickly and it’s so bittersweet. My baby is becoming a man right before my very eyes and it’s a hard thing to accept. He is more like his dad which every passing day. How can I not adore him when he is so much like the man that I love more than I ever thought I could possibly love someone?
Mumma loves you TJ. With everything she is and everything she has. You’re an amazing son and protector and I simply adore you. The world may not understand you at times and people in it may be cruel to you, but I love you always. As is.
Bonus baby pic. Look at those eyes!
Brookie asked for a day off of school for a mummy and me day :) First stop, our favourite tea house. Next, we’re going shopping and then for manis and pedis :D
And it was at that moment that both my heart and my ovaries exploded.
Baby Millie loved the beach. Sometimes we would just kick back and relax (and nap apparently) on the shore while daddy surfed. It was so hard leaving here and going back to Colorado. Australia quickly and easily became my home, and while we didn’t have a lot, I had a man that loved me beyond all measure and a gorgeous baby girl and a comfy little apartment that was all ours. I used to cry to my husband at night about wanting to go back; I hated Colorado and my family and all I wanted was to return to Australia and never think of the States and my mother and brothers EVER again. I know it broke his heart too; having to leave his birth place right after creating a new life for himself. And he’d promise that one day he’d make it happen; he’d get me back there and we’d never have to leave again.
And he made good on that promise.
This guy is super stoked about a mum and dad ONLY get away. Just a few days in Tasmania. And he’s also extremely hopeful that we’ll enter the ‘mile high club’. I reminded him we’ve visited that particular club more than once; we’re card carrying members. And he reminded me we hadn’t visited in that particular plane.
He makes a good point.
I casually mentioned to my love that I’ve never had sex in a car. Ten minutes later, he texts me from outside:
“I’m ready.”
Look how proud he is of his little girl. You would have thought she just caught and reeled in Jaws.
#bestdadever
Looks like Charlie brought his whole family for peanut butter sandwiches!
#lifeinAustralia
A flashback!
Hi, I’m Amelia. Daddy and mumma call me Millie. I feed on demand. Now mummy is ALWAYS tired and daddy helps out the best he can and when mum sleeps, he’s up with me making sure I get my bottles. I don’t mind them and he’s cool to hang out with, but I prefer the boob. My parents are barely ever in bed together at the same anymore. So you know what that means? They can never have sex. I think THAT’S hilarious. Because daddy is mine now, mum. ALL MINE. It also means, I’ll have no brothers or sisters and I’ll be the Queen Bee forever. I’m very proud of myself. As you can tell.
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It’s Friday night and I’m already drunk, and so it is time, I think, to return to this sight for more Jeffers-posting. Text and commentary below the cut, a reading of the poem recorded months ago on a shitty phone mic in a cornfield above. Full credit for any virtues in my reading goes to the red-winged blackbirds in the background. The reason for the choice of this particular poem should be obvious.
Contemplation of the Sword
by Robinson Jeffers
Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol. The sword: that is: the storms
and counter-storms of general destruction; killing
of men,
Destruction of all goods and materials; massacre, more or
less intentional, of children and women;
Destruction poured down from wings, the air made accomplice,
the innocent air
Perverted into assassin and poisoner.
The sword: that is: treachery and cowardice, incredible
baseness, incredible courage, loyalties, insanities.
The sword: weeping and despair, mass-enslavement,
mass-torture, frustration of all hopes
That starred man's forehead. Tyranny for freedom, horror for
happiness, famine for bread, carrion for children.
Reason will not decide at last, the sword will decide.
Dear God, who are the whole splendor of things and the sacred
stars, but also the cruelty and greed, the treacheries
And vileness, insanities and filth and anguish: now that this
thing comes near us again I am finding it hard
To praise you with a whole heart.
I know what pain is, but pain can shine. I know what death is,
I have sometimes
Longed for it. But cruelty and slavery and degradation,
pestilence, filth, the pitifulness
Of men like hurt little birds and animals . . . if you were
only
Waves beating rock, the wind and the iron-cored earth,
With what a heart I could praise your beauty.
You will not repent, nor cancel life, nor free man from anguish
For many ages to come. You are the one that tortures himself to
discover himself: I am
One that watches you and discovers you, and praises you in little
parables, idyl or tragedy, beautiful
Intolerable God.
The sword: that is:
I have two sons whom I love. They are twins, they were born
in nineteen sixteen, which seemed to us a dark year
Of a great war, and they are now of the age
That war prefers. The first-born is like his mother, he is so
beautiful
That persons I hardly know have stopped me on the street to
speak of the grave beauty of the boy's face.
The second-born has strength for his beauty; when he strips
for swimming the hero shoulders and wrestler loins
Make him seem clothed. The sword: that is: loathsome disfigurements,
blindness, mutilation, locked lips of boys
Too proud to scream.
Reason will not decide at last: the sword will decide.
========================================================
Nietzsche was perhaps the first philosopher to realize that atheists still have to contend with the problem of theodicy. There are things that happen in the world, every day, that are horrific beyond measure, and which are never, ever, ever made right. Sometimes, human beings die humiliated, in agony, praying for release, and do not receive it, their last breaths ones of horror. How is one to accept this fact, to accept that however good the world is on balance, there remain in it people condemned to monstrous fates that will never be redeemed? And so Nietzsche began his great project of attempting to say “Yes!” to every single thing in the world, to give, as the moderns call it, “enthusiastic consent” to literally everything. This attempt, according to some commentators, was a major factor in his eventual insanity.
Jeffers is able to go very far down the road that Nietzsche laid down, much farther than most people who are able to bring themselves to even look down that road are able to. There are many varieties of agony and misery that he is able to shout out “Yes!” to. In another poem of his, he celebrates the death agonies of a deer mortally wounded, but not killed, by a hunter, attempting unsuccessfully to slake its awful thirst in a cool coastal stream. And not just the suffering of animals: I have no doubt that, when contemplating a hunter who fell off an isolated cliff, shattered his leg, and died alone in agony miles from succor, Jeffers could have shouted a resounding “Yes!”
But in this poem, written in the shadow of the opening of World War 2, he meets his match. When contemplating the horrors of total war - not a phenomenon new to the Industrial Age, as any student of history will tell you - Jeffers is given pause. More than ordinary pain and agony, total war exposes the people to deliberately cruel torture, misery, the calculated humiliation that is worse than even physical pain, and the annihilation of hope that is even worse than that. Jeffers, as usual, sees the exact reality of all this with the absolute, unenviable clarity of a Cassandra.
The poem contrasts two resolutions to this: in one, he contextualizes the horror by summoning a pantheist Nature/God who orders them, who “tortures himself to discover himself.” This gives these agonies at least a purpose and a beauty, though he still finds them “intolerable.” In the other, he imagines them happening to his two sons whom he loves.
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5/26/2023 DAB Chronological Transcription
Psalm 131, 138-139, 143-145
Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological. Today is the 26th day of May. I'm Jill and it is so good to be here with you all today as we're winding this week down together in the Word, life is busy and it's full y'all. And so I am so glad that you have set aside this time to really just make space for God to be present, be a part of your day, an intentional part of your day, and to allow his word to speak to you, wash over you, and hide it in our hearts so that we may not sin against Him. Today we're reading in the Psalm and we're going to jump around a little bit. We'll begin with Psalm 131 and then we'll jump over and read Psalm 138, 139, and then we'll jump further back to Psalm 143, 144 and 145. This week we've been reading in The Voice translation, Psalm 131.
Commentary:
Today, if you would let me expound on why. O Eternal One, my heart is not occupied with proud thoughts. My eyes do not look down on others. I don't even begin to get involved in matters too big, matters of faith, state business, or the many things that defy my ability to understand them. Here it is. Of one thing I am certain my soul has become calm, quiet and contented in you, like a weaned child resting upon his mother. I am quiet. My soul is like this weaned child. Is your soul really calm, quiet and contented in God? It's not a question filled with shame. It's just a question. For much of my life, my soul was not calm, it was not quiet, and it was not contented in God. It was chaos. My soul was chaos. My learned response to almost everything was react, chaos, spin out of control. And I'm laughing because I think back to the ridiculousness of just pure intensity. Everything was a reaction. Rather than taking a moment to consider, to pause, to gain my thoughts, to invite the Holy Spirit, and to just learn to be content. Now, not everything and everybody is quiet. The world we live in is loud and noisy. And I think sometimes we think we have to raise our voice above the noise. We've got to be louder. The church has to have a voice and make a stand that's louder. And I learned this really beautiful technique in parenting, but I learned it really late in life. The trick is if you want your child to listen to you in the chatter and the chaos and the intensity, if you lower your voice, if you lower your voice, you will actually command them to meet you where you are. If you gain control of your emotions, of your thoughts, they'll mimic that. They will model that well, that has to spill over beyond our kids. If we can learn to be calm and we have to learn it, it can't just happen. We can pray and god can supernaturally just calm us. But we also have to learn it. And we learn it by practicing. I heard this fascinating new piece of research the other day just in mental health awareness and I just want to go on the record. I am not a mental health professional, but as someone who has struggled with anxiety and depression over the years, I'm fascinated in very holistic ways to take preventative measures before we're over the edge or before I'm over the edge. And a new study showed that if we take 20 minutes a day to just sit with our thoughts, they didn't even go on the record to call it prayer and they didn't even go on the record to call it meditation. Simply sit with your thoughts for 20 minutes and they recommend you do it twice a day. But most people won't do it once because they don't know how to manage all of the thoughts that they sit with because people do not sit for 20 minutes. So the intentionality of it without ever doing it before leaves people overwhelmed and so they just stay busy and not sit with those thoughts. What if we could start practicing? Practicing intentional calm and quiet and our focus being content in God, learning to quiet our soul, learning calmness and stillness. Practicing it so that we are modeling it not to just our children, but to a world that is frantic, that is chaotic, that is spinning out of control because we are grabbing towards anything that will soothe us, anything that will calm us, anything that will comfort us instead of gravitating that gravitational pull. As a believer to the comforter, to the Holy Spirit whose characteristic is that of calming and soothing and nurturing and man isn't that just a really good place of rest to be grounded in? The one who is stable, the one who is able, the one who calmed the seas, the one who said, Peace, be still. The one who is the prince of all peace and the one whose peace passes all understanding.
Prayer:
Father, thank you for this word today that grounds me thinking that when I have begun to involve myself in matters too big the many things that defy my ability to understand them that I can come to you and you calm and quiet my soul. You are a place of contentment for every single one of us. Father, I pray that those whose life feels like it is a jumble mess of chaos would you come and be their peace? Would you come and show them what peace and stillness and calm and rest that may feel completely out of the ordinary to them? Would you come like a flood with peace and like a stillness after the storm? God, would you calm the raging storm of strife inside of them and show them your peace so that it can be felt, so that it can be attained, so that it can be practiced, it can be achieved and then we can model this to a world in need. Thank you for your Holy Spirit that comforts us, that calms us, that soothes us, that nurtures us, that mothers us and may we rise above the noise, above the chaos, above reacting and be people of great peace. Pray this now in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Announcements:
Daily Audio Bible. That's home base. Check it out, if you have not. Take a look around. That's the website and it's free. If you'd like to partner with us, thank you so much for your partnership. We could not do this without you. We're so grateful that we do not have to. If you're giving by mail DAB PO Box 1996, Spring Hill I was about to wrap but I stopped myself. PO Box 1996, Spring Hill, Tennessee 37174 or you can hit the Give icon up at the top right hand corner of your mobile device. And lastly look for the Give icon on the website. If you would like to pray for someone that's previously called in or if you yourself need prayer several different ways for you to do so 800-583-2164 or once again utilizing that mobile app, hit the red circle button up at the top right hand corner of your mobile device. You have two minutes on the prayer line. Please speak clearly and concisely into your mobile device and then at the end of your prayer hit send. Turn that little wheel over to chronological. We've got our own little place in the world and that's it. And speaking of that's it. That's it for me today. We'll turn the page together tomorrow. Oh how I love you. Until tomorrow. Love one another.
Community Prayer Line:
Hello, DABC family. This is Mary from Prairie Grove, Arkansas. I am calling to ask for prayer for my son Caleb. Caleb is 18 and he is on the autism spectrum and earlier this week he had a mental health crisis. We've been struggling he's been struggling with some mental health issues but we could not get him to go anywhere to get assessment and assistance and he wasn't on any medication but only by circumstances the Lord can bring about. We were able to get Caleb into an inpatient patient facility earlier this week and he will be there for a couple of weeks. But I have a couple of prayer requests for Caleb. First of all, Caleb prayed to receive Christ at a young age and he has walked away from that. And I pray that this time of being away from distractions, electronics and social media will be an opportunity for his mind to clear and God will speak to him through the power of the Holy Spirit. I also pray for the breaking of social media addiction in his life. Social media addiction is a real thing and he needs to be delivered from that bondage and we as his parents and we are his legal guardians, need to do better at helping him monitor that. The third thing is that he said he's bored there and there's not a lot to do. And I pray for a Christian friend, I pray for a Christian therapist, a Christian doctor, someone that would befriend Caleb even there, and share Christ with him and love on him and encourage him. And we just pray for mental healing for Caleb. Thank you so much.
Hello, DABC family. This is Diana from Florida. Oh, wow. I am so enamored by this praise report from Blessed Assurance and also by the commentary that the Burning Bush that will not be devoured shared because it's true. We take for granted these little little things. We take for granted the fact that maybe in some parts of the country of the world there's rain and other parts there's droughts. We take for granted the fact that there is even birds flying and chirping and migrating through our locations and how that's a sign of peace. And what the burning bush was saying was that during war, there are no birds, the animals flee. And that is something that really touched me, that really touched me and moved me to realize how much I take all of that for granted myself. I don't even recognize how much of a blessing that is sometimes. And so I just want to thank God for both of you. Thank God for you giving praise reports and highlighting how special and amazing of a miracle it is that I can see the birds flying around me and chirping and I can feel the rain here in Florida. It's not raining currently, but it has been yesterday it rained a whole lot, and today it's a very sunny May rain later today. But even all that, all of it is a blessing. And so praise God. Praise God. I praise the Lord with you both. And I thank God for this community that constantly is challenging me to really press deeper in my faith.
Hi, China. My name is Eva. I really like listening to the Daily Audio Bible Kids. And what I want to say is that I like it when you do the Daily Audio Bible Kids. It makes me happy and it also makes me feel like it's in my heart making that I learn about new things and how God created the world. You talk about all kinds of things. Bye.
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Eli Lambie: It’s the Smiles That Measure His Success
He was 15 years old – and looked maybe 12 – when he timidly introduced himself to live music fans throughout the Upper Ohio Valley, and that’s because he had decided he was ready to perform in from of more people than his family, friends, and his classmates at Wheeling Park High.
His name? Eli Lambie … and wow, one must ask themselves, who does the kid look like?
Since then, Lambie has performed the platinum tunes from back in the 1960s-70s, he’s composed and performed classical arrangements with the Wheeling Symphony Orchestra, and while it has always seemed he can play every existing instrument, he has fine-tuned his vocals to “Wow, who’s that?” levels.
Now, Eli is an award-winning music educator in Marshall County that parents feel lucky to have in their school district. It was his peers and administrators who voted for him to receive the 2023 Society for General Music Teacher of the Year, and he’s been the music teacher at Washington Lands Elementary for the past five years.
It did not take that long, though, for Lambie to reach a different milestone, one connected with his career as a live performer and as a band leader here in the Upper Ohio Valley and beyond. For a few years after emerging onto the live and local music scene in the Wheeling area, Eli was a piece of someone else’s orchestra, but now he’s the conductor of his very own, Eli and the Mojo Kings.
THAT’S IT! Right? You’ve got it!
That’s when it finally comes to you! The look-alike! It’s that movie actor, the one from Spider-Man and The Lighthouse, Aquaman, and Platoon … that Willem Dafoe … that’s who looks just like Eli Lambi.
Wow, lucky actor ... lucky Uncle Willem, that is.
Lambie has been the featured performer with the Wheeling Symphony Orchestra.
What do you cook really well and how do you know you do?
I wish I could say I cooked something well, but I am an awful cook. Here’s a brief anecdote to sum up my abilities as a chef; When I was a kid, I followed my mother’s cookie recipe while I was at home on a snow day. I used confectioners’ sugar instead of flour and…. well… you can imagine how that turned out. Today, I take great pride in my ability to make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich on an English muffin. I’m fortunate to have a family and friend network of fantastic cooks, and I eat very well when I’m on the road for shows.
If I’m invited to a dinner and need to bring something, I’m bringing the wine! (I’m known for always bringing great wine to dinner parties thanks to Corey at Casa di Vino in Center Market.)
What musical genre do you prefer the most, and why?
I don’t have a single genre that I prefer most. My tastes are always changing, and I go through phases of playing and listening to different types of music. One genre I always seem to come back to is classical music. I love listening to Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Liszt, and other Romantic period composers. Their music is timeless, elegant, and beautiful.
Eli and the Mojo Kings play several gigs each year in the Wheeling area, but they perform outside the area as well.
For what reasons did you form the Mojo Kings, and do you feel the band has been as successful as you thought it would be?
As a young musician, I had the honor of playing with many talented artists. I enjoyed being a part of their projects, but I was ready to start my own. Our valley is saturated with talented musicians, and I’m fortunate to have eight outstanding musicians in my group.
Success is difficult to measure, and there is always room for growth. I don’t know if I knew exactly what to expect going into the Mojo Kings, but I have really enjoyed how the journey has unfolded for us thus far. I am proud to say that we have brought happiness to a lot of people through our music.
The group gets better and better every year, and I can’t wait to see where our journey takes us next.
Why do you believe you’ve experienced so much success as a music educator?
When I was in school, I had many tremendous music educators that inspired me to pursue music. They modeled how bringing the gift of music to their students can change their lives for the better. Without their positive example, I wouldn’t be the teacher I am today. I love what I do.
Making music with my students brings me great joy. We are always singing, dancing, moving, and playing instruments. Keeping students engaged in class helps them to grow a love and passion for music. When I was in school, I was not the easiest student. I was creative, off the walls, and always thinking/acting outside of the box. These quirks have become an asset in my teaching.
My wild lessons use music to take students everywhere. When students enter my room, they never know where they’re going to end up. We could end up in a foreign country, on the face of the moon, or in the middle of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
When students leave my room, they leave with smiles on their faces, a greater sense of connection to the world and the people around them, and a love of music.
Eli enjoys collecting cool cars when he's not creating original music.
If you could play one role your uncle has played in a movie, what role would it be?
I don’t think my acting skills would ever come close to measuring up to my Uncle Willem’s. If I could do anything, I’d love to write the film score for one of his movies. I love writing for orchestra and believe that great music can make or break a movie.
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