#edit: i tried adding a link to the fic before i posted but apparently it didn't work?

[romirola]

One Last Pre-Post Teaser Sunday

Chances are, sometime between February 2023 and now, you heard me blabbing that I am working on a Redactedverse Power Swap fic. Maybe you’ve even checked out one or more about the snippets I posted. (Find those here, here, here, here, here, here, and here, if you are interested!) I’m so excited to say that I have the full, 70K+ word draft finished! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! There is still a lot of work to do before I’ll begin posting it to AO3, such as revising to ensure the prose is tight, purposeful, and connected; editing for clarity and typos; adding chapter breaks; writing the summary, tags, and pairings; gathering together links to give people credit for the ideas/headcanons/OCs they generously donated; etc. I’m aiming to have the first chapter of this fic posted to AO3 by the first week of August at the latest.

To celebrate, I’m going to post one last excerpt of the story while it is still a W.I.P. Please consider this an open tag to share whatever kind of work you’d like to share. No pressure to participate, but I’ll tag the wonderful people who have asked to be tagged at each update of the story: @thegoldenlittlerose, @shellssstuff, @starlitangels, and the wonderful people who have contributed something to the story: @claracatlady, @pinksparkl, @floofdeloop, @frenchiefitzhere, @gwenifred, @palilious, and @itsdaifuku. 

Speaking of a tag list, would you like to be tagged when this fic is posted and updated? Please let me know, and I’ll be happy to add you to the list! 

I truly cannot wait to share this story with you all. Until then, find a snippet featuring Angel, David, and drama below. 

Angel cowered into David, lifting their front paws up, one and then the other, like they couldn’t quite process the fact that those paws belonged to them. 

“I’m going to shift, too,” David announced. “It might be easier for us to communicate, and then we can figure this out together.”

Angel blinked deliberately, trusting their mate to help. 

David closed his eyes to carve out a bit of calm that would allow him to enact the complicated, though comforting, process of shifting, even as this perplexing storm of chaos raged around him. He could freak out about this later. Right now, his Angel needed him. 

As he had done so many times before, David reached for his core so that he could initiate the shift. Normally, at the sight of his mate in distress, his wolf would’ve been anxious and eager to come into being, ready to rid the world of any threat towards the ones he loved. Strangely enough, David’s wolf hadn’t stirred all through Angel’s shifting incident. 

With a sinking heart, David realized that he couldn't reach his wolf. He couldn’t even feel his core. Again and again, he tried, but it was like there was nothing there inside to feel. Nothing at all. 

“I… I can’t!” David exclaimed, one hand grabbing a fistful of his shift and the other a fistful of Angel’s soft fur. 

No, not their fur. 

Even as he felt like the world was breaking around him, David’s mind was putting together the jagged pieces together into the seemingly illogical, but apparently accurate, puzzle they formed. 

“I can’t shift. I can’t feel my core at all. My magic!” David brushed his palm across Angel’s neck before he let it settle onto their chest. He spoke haltingly, like the words were foreign sounds on his tongue. “I think my magic might somehow be inside you, Angel.”

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fanfiction #redacted david #redacted davey #david shaw #redacted angel #redacted shaw pack #redacted power swap

[dramamelon]

Constructicon Week is here! @constructiconweek

I'll be posting them here as well as reblogging with an AO3 link because they're all short pieces. :)

What Once Was

Day 6: Mixmaster | Welding Rating: T Tags: Minimal Editing, Canon Blender of IDW1 & IDW2, Snippets of Larger Story, Abandoned & Destroyed City, Haunted Houses, Whump, Blood and Injury, updated as necessary Fic Summary: In a moment of peace that was either the End of the War or a Temporary Truce (no one was quite sure where they stood yet), the Constructicons claimed the shattered remains of Crystal City as their own. So far, no one else had raised a fuss, leaving them free to rebuild as they wished. Chapter Summary: When things got ignored, someone was going to bear the brunt when it escalated. Poor Mixmaster had never even noticed anything unusual. Note: Tags have been updated!

He was sure it hadn't been his fault. There was no way Mixmaster tripped over his own pedes and fell down a flight of sharp-edged stairs to land at the bottom, dented everywhere, cracked open in several places, and laying in a growing pool of energon. A large spike of a shattered support truss hit on the way down left him with a large puncture in one side, the source of most of his vital fluid loss. An attempt to cycle the irises of his optics resulted in a disturbing grinding sound that had Mixmaster pausing the attempt mere moments after beginning. Instead, he slowly blinked his optical shutters, holding them closed long enough to let the flowing stream of cleansing fluid give the cracked lenses a good wash. Hook would appreciate him doing at least that much.

This was very not good.

His armor creaked as he tried to roll into a position he could more easily stand from, pain flaring from the wounds stressed by the action. He pushed a bit harder, hoping he might be able to get himself to help under his own power, but it quickly became apparent that wasn't going to happen. Giving up with a sigh, Mixmaster eased his frame back down against the ground and opened the team bond. The likelihood of the others laughing at his predicament was incredibly high, simply because all of them were Like That, but he knew they'd come around to help him before he completely bled out.

::If there's a chance someone's not busy right now, I would appreciate if I could get a little help?::

As the bond crackled with a swirl of curiosity, annoyance, and long-suffering knowing, Mixmaster could only cringe and hope he hadn't misjudged them. Really, of all the ways to go, deactivating in a broken heap at the bottom of a grand staircase in a ruined city had never crossed his mind. And oh, how very big the puddle of his living energon was becoming, stretching across at least half the length of the lobby. He touched his flagging consciousness against the bond again. With luck, he didn't sound like too much of a loser as he added a little extra plea to his request.

::Please?::

It all turned into a bit of a blur after that point. He didn't feel quite so bad about it, though, when what little his optics could decipher through the static haze was familiar green and purple. Might have been nice to be able to hear whatever Bones was saying, but Mixmaster knew one couldn't have everything.

He felt the rumble of the rest of his team as they rushed into the lobby of the medical facility they were searching, felt the heady and worried crush of their erupting EM fields. Maybe a snicker slipped from his intake when one of them slipped in the slick spill of his energon on the old and cracked tiles of the floor. He couldn't have said who it was. Or if it actually happened.

Then, hands were on him, pulling and shoving him onto his back—or as well as could be obtained with his barrel in the way. Whatever sound might have escaped him, Mixmaster kind of found himself grateful he was blissfully unaware of it over the raging agony that swept over his frame from the top of his helm to the tips of his pedes. When the severed lines were tied off he wept. When a piece of scrap metal was slapped against the gaping hole in his side and the heat of Hook's torch touched the edge, welding the panel to his torn plating, Mixmaster remembered no more.

#maccadam #constructicon week #day 6: mixmaster | welding #mixmaster #constructicons #💜🚧💚 #mixmaster whump

[dairy-farmer]

I'd like the idea of ​​an AU in the time where jason die and tim becomes Robin. Bruce he vents his anger on the, and the treats badly, doesn't care. He decides to compromise with himself by pretending not to care while slowly installing cameras and bugs in tims househouse. And hacking and displaying feeds from places tim frequents and it gets so bad he bugs tims phone and even inserts a microchip tracker into tim one time when he was unconscious when tim got badly injured. Inevitably bruce It be

EDIT: hello, two people have let me know this prompt is apparently from someone named mantamobu's thread on twitter the original i've linked here and i would love it if many of checked them out!! i'd like to believe that the original anon meant no harm and was likely just enthusiastic about an idea they liked and wished to see more of but I also bear a bit of responsibility since I recently started following mantamobu and had actually seen those tweets before and thought I recognized the idea but then assumed i was wrong since no reference to it was made.

i really do appreciate every prompt send to me! but i do have a concession and if you want to send in prompts from a tweet or post made by someone i'd love to be able to link them and show them what I made with their idea.

but also in all fairness i never made that known before so I do think it was just honest mistake from someone!

still there's great news attatched to this edit!!! mantamobu added more to their original thread about 5 hours ago from the time I'm writing this!!! so you can see how they take their original idea further❤️❤️❤️.

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I cannot stress how much i LOVE fics where tim gets the short end of the stick while training as robin!! because canonically he does get treated differently from dick or jason or damian from how they were trained and treated, it makes sense why bruce acts like that. jason's death is a fresh wound, still bleeding and pulsing pain and tim is, in many ways, vinegar, lemon juice, and salt sprayed onto it.

i think bruce tried to do his best but ultimately had to push tim's training onto others because he couldn't handle being tim's primary trainer but also because he wanted tim to get a varied education, because he blamed himself for jason's death, and he'd been the one responsible for teaching jason everything. so he'd failed and jason's death was on his hands because he hadn't taught him enough and he didn't want that for tim.

bruce is just SO CLOSE to tipping over the edge and i think if tim had gotten to him just a few months even a few weeks later he'd have developed into a very distrustful and aggressive person because you could see how he was rolling down that path when tim came into his life.

he doesn't like tim. doesn't appreciate his interference in his life and he most certainly doesn't trust him despite alfred and dick both insisting he five tim a chance.

he's short with tim. gives growled orders and he expects perfection on the first attempt. bruce knows he's being harsh on him, alfred hads tried pleading him to not be so callous, to have a gentler touch like he did with his other boys. timothy wants to help him. can't he see that?

or is he far too stubborn to acknowledge the sacrifices this boy is going to make for his sake?

alfred must tell dick his worries because dick calls him, spitting threats and saying he better not be treating tim badly because he'll come over there and kick his ass if that's the case.

bruce tries to ignore the hurt that bubbles in him when he realizes that his family thinks he's...he's hurting tim on purpose just for the sake of it.

tim doesn't hold it against him. his eyes are sympathetic and understanding even while cradling a heavily bruised limb because bruce threw him down on the mat too harshly.

he asks bruce how his day is going, if he's eaten anything and before bruce can even respond tim will be offering him packets of crackers, chips, or nuts. they're printed with his school logo and bruce knows tim must've gotten them from the vending machines in his cafeteria.

tim is sweet, in the way that boys raised to be gentle are. he's earnest and eager to please bruce. but he also pities bruce.

he sees the cracks in him and tries his best to help him along even if it means receiving a several minute long verbal lashing for a small mistake.

bruce knows he is harsh (he wishes he could be kinder). he knows he has a short temper (he wishes he could be more patient). he knows he's not doing right by tim (he wishes he could be better).

he cannot caress tim. cannot tell him when he impresses him or how much he's improved. alfred is disapproving of that, he makes that very clear.

bruce tries to ignore the feelings. this overwhelming irrational fear and worry over tim when he can't see him. bruce knows tim's schedule, tim surrendered it quite easily.

from five days a week, from seven-thirty to three he's at school.

on mondays and wednesdays he has gymnastics which he's been attending since he was in second grade.

tuesdays and thursdays from four to six he has tutoring with an older boy from his school to help him with a few classes he's fallen behind in.

fridays, saturday, and sunday tim signs himself out for the weekend and makes his way to the manor for training. three days a week is a severe limit but tim is working on convincing his parents to let him quit gymnastics despite the fact that he's won a handful of trophies from local competitions.

tim is also looking into maybe paying off his tutor to say they met and instead freeing up all five days for bruce.

the point is, bruce knows, roughly, where tim is at any given hour of the day.

but bruce can't ignore the creeping feeling. like nails digging under the skin of his scalp. he knows where tim is.

he knows that he knows where he is. but he keeps checking that small post-it note with tim's handwriting outlining his weekly schedule.

he smoothes the creases and reads each line before setting it down. two seconds later and he's picking it back up again and re-reading the lines, just making sure his brain isn't playing tricks on him and he didn't skip any line.

down. pick up again because what if he just imagined that he picked it up and read it the first two times?

bruce's compulsory behavior and natural paranoia stress him out the more he becomes interested in tim. in where he is, what he's doing. is he talking to anyone? is anyone giving him a hard time? what if one of bruce's enemies found out about tim (it hasn't even been 3 months, how could they possibly find out about him) and are hurting him right this second.

it's wasier to manage in the manor. just additional security cameras are added to the driveway and on the forested property line that stretch down the main road.

bruce has an exact ETA and visual on tim as he rides his bike up the road on friday afternoon.

he installs cameras and microphones into the guestroom that tim occupies every weekend. he does it while alfred is out running errands and keeps the feed on a device separate from the bat computer. just in case.

alfred would be fiercely disapproving about this blatent invasion of 'master tim's' privacy. he'd call dick and then his son would have another reason to hate him.

so bruce keeps it to himself. he only pulls it out when he's alone. late at night, when alfred has already retreated and tim is dead asleep after icing all his bruises.

he's a small little thing, curled up on his side as he sleeps. he's brought his own blanket that he cuddles up with on top of the sheets. it's cheetah patterned and bruce recognizes it from the flea markets in gotham's west side that he investigated as batman once.

there's a microphone in the headboard and bruce hears the soft breaths of tim as he sleeps. an occasional whistle sound also leaks through during an especially deep breath, likely the result of a slightly deviated septum.

tim drools, bruce can see it when he zooms in close to his face.

bruce is crossing a boundary. he's invading tim's privacy on a level he never did to jason or dick or even alfred.

he knows that anyone would be furious with him if they knew. they'd call him a 'bigger creep' than usual. but they wouldn't understand.

they wouldn't understand how bruce needed to do it. how close he'd been to calling clark and asking him to check up on what would essentially be, a random civilian.

bruce had to do it. he had to.

they wouldn't understand. but tim would.

if tim knew it brought him peace of mind, he'd let bruce do it.

maybe that's why bruce gets bolder. why he goes out one night while tim stays in and rather than go into gotham proper where he always starts his patrol, he instead makes a turn in teh direction of tim's boarding school where it was located just on the outskirts of the city.

bruce knows tim's dorm is empty. he knows his roommate returns home for the weekend as well.

so it's a matter of just going into the right building and tracking down the door with two star-shaped stickers wearing sunglasses that have the names 'T. Drake' and 'M. To' written on them.

bruce finds the bed with tim's possessions and presses bugs and cameras around his side of the room. he debates planting any in the bathroom but decides that infringing on the privacy of a random 13-year-old boy is just too far.

bruce gets back door access to all the hall way and campus cameras as he leaves.

when tim returns on monday bruce is able to watch him leave until he's out of range of the manor cameras and instead switches to a red, blinking dot on another monitor.

subdermal tracker. experimental. bruce told tim some lie about it being a vaccine for a potential exposure to ivy's pollen. bruce is still working on that and eventually tim will get the real vaccine.

trackers are placed outside of things because if ingested they'll eventually run out of battery and just be hunks of metal floating in someone's body.

tim's should last for a few years before it would have to have its battery replaced. but that's a decade away.

bruce watches as tim's bike rolls into the parking for students and he jogs up to the main office where bruce swtiches to yet another camera.

the quality of the camera is grainy but its good enough quality that bruce can identify it's tim who offers the secretary a friendly smile and quickly signs back in before darting out to make it to his first class of the day.

bruce spends the day alternating between working on his cases and pulling out his phone to check on tim in the security cameras.

bruce feels...better. less weighed down with the knowledge that he knows exactly where tim is and what he's doing.

bruce does realize he's behaving more neurotic than usual. he knows that maybe this should be his wakeup call for professional help but he doesn't get it.

he watches. he listens as tim settles back into his life on monday.

he listens as tim and his roommate complain about their homework and teachers they don't like. they ask about each other's weekend and mutual friends they share. they talk about what's being served for dinner. occasionally other boys from their floor will wander in wanting to chat, borrow or return cds, or to invite them for a movie on the main floor that bruce has also bugged.

bruce listens to tim laugh and nearly bust a gut at a raunchy joke made by one of the older boys. bruce tapes that laugh and keeps it on file.

he doesn't know why.

on tuesday things settle down more. on tuesday, tim's roomate has swim practice from four to seven and tim has tutoring.

bruce expects tim to make his way to the library, bruce already has his fingers ready to switch but instead he watches as tim greets a scruffy, broad-shouldered boy at the door.

tim's tutor. presumably.

sixteen, turning seventeen in three months. he's helping tim with algebra and pre-chemistry.

and apparently, also fucking him.

bruce doesn't tear his eyes away from the sight of the tutor's pants unbuckled and lowered to just below his ass as he roughly fucks tim on his bed. tim's hands are wrapped and scrambling for his sweater vest coated back.

bruce can hear through the microphone grunts and moans and whines. he hears the rocking of the bed and creaking of the springs.

he doesn't know why he doesn't look away.

tuedays and thursdays from four to six is when they meet. bruce checked the post-it.

was this what they did in that time?

yes.

for a full two hours, tim didn't study a lick of algebra or chemistry. instead, every bit of his thirteen-year-old self climbed onto the older boy's lap and rode him, throwing his head back as he moaned with delight of being filled.

bruce watches for the full two hours. he doesn't look away once.

once finished they both clean up and the boy departs with hardly another word spoken.

tim straightens his bed in time for his roomate to return and ask if tim had a productive session.

'oh, very' tim nodded seriously.

bruce checked tim's phone. he'd installed a secondary screen to be able to go through it but he hadn't had reason to until tim's little affair came to light.

they exchanged pictures with each other. they sent risque texts and flirted as much as two teenagers could.

there didn't seem to be much of an emotional connection between them. it wasn't serious. bruce couldn't explain why that filled him with so much relief.

on friday when tim arrived for training he was amazed at how much more calm bruce was. how was soothed with just a few words from tim. how he wasn't as harsh even though alfred's expression was no less disapproving when tim picked himself up from the mats.

bruce's grip wasn't as iron clenched, bruce knew tim could tell. bruce's brows were still furrowed but they didn't carry as much tension. bruce knew tim could tell.

bruce knew tim could feel bruce's eyes on him as they stopped for a water break.

but tim didn't flinch, didn't stumble or hesitate. he absorbed bruce's observation like he didn't feel it at all. he wasn't disturbed or unnerved by bruce's shift in behavior or his scrutiny.

he took it in stride.

and as bruce sat down beside tim, reaching for his own drink. he watched out of the corner of his eye as tim rubbed at his shoulder, right on the spot where bruce had injected the tracker.

bruce didn't know what to call the feeling that bubbled up in his chest. so instead, he swallowed it down alongside the water that filled his mouth.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

[evanjinx]

alternative universe buddie fics recs :)

note: the links weren't working the first time i wrote the post but i edited and they're okay now!! if it still isn't working for you is probably because you're trying to open from a reblog from before i edit it, so try open directly from the original post on my profile.

Blind Date by @sassypopstar [complete | teen and up audiences | 3.8k words]

Buck feels a little ridiculous dressed in a jacket and a shirt. But Maddie had insisted on him dressing up for the occasion and even Chimney had quipped that it’s the right thing to do. So Buck, who never went on a blind date before in his life, listened to his big sister and her boyfriend because apparently that’s who he is now. Or the one where Buck goes on a blind date with someone called Eddie.

Buckley's Bouquets by awashleyno [complete | teen and up audiences | 23.4k words]

A world where Buck owns a flower shop and manages to develop a huge, massive, ridiculous crush on a handsome firefighter that comes in for a visit one day. Or, 5 times Eddie gives flowers to other people and the 1 time he gives them to Buck.

Call It What You Will - Fate? Destiny? (A Tsunami) by @abow123456 [complete | mature | 20k words]

Evan Buckley's day of relaxation is cut short when a tsunami hits the beach he was relaxing at. He has to fight to keep himself and a lost little boy safe from the water, as well as anyone else he finds. After, he meets the boys father and family, and it causes a snowball effect of good things for him, for once.

Capuccino with extra, extra sugar by buckbng [complete | teen and up audiences | 2.7k words]

Buck is the cute barista and Eddie is the grinch that hates coffee. Until, he doesn't. Because if Buck says he looks like the kind of person that would love a cappuccino, who's Eddie to disagree with him? OR Eddie really doesn't like coffee but pretends he does just so he has an excuse to see the cute barista at the coffee shop.

Confirmation Bias by strifechaos [complete | mature | 31k words]

After the fallout with his ex-wife, Eddie believed he could only trust his family with his son. He hadn’t imagined falling for his son’s sweet-hearted nanny, Buck. With his own family so distant, Buck never considered that he’d be lucky enough to find a home for himself, let alone people he could count on. Not until he meets the Diaz boys. AU: Buck was never a firefighter, and becomes Christopher's sitter when Shannon's job takes her away from Eddie and Chris for the summer. Eddie tries to not fall for his son's nanny, he's not very successful.

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings [complete | mature | 7.3k words]

Evan Buckley is lost. It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door. Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name. Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Frequent Flyer by red_to_black [complete | mature | 13.4k words]

In his entire time being a firefighter, Eddie has never met anyone as accident-prone as Evan Buckley. And Buck - well, he's quickly becoming the 118's best customer. (Or - the one where Eddie is a firefighter, Buck isn't, and Eddie finds himself rescuing Buck from increasingly sticky situations. Sometimes literally.)

Gave me no messages, gave me no signs... by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 7.4k words]

"Buck is beyond nervous, and he’s really trying to convince himself that the familiarity of the situation is not some sort of bad omen. Just because there are parallels of the start of his relationship with Eddie to that of his relationship with Abby doesn’t mean that this new adventure is destined to end in the same miserable fashion. He hopes it won’t, has to believe it won’t. Because even with Abby, he hadn’t fallen this hard for her before their first official date. With Eddie, everything is already intensified by a thousand." Or, Buck covers a shift for a firefighter at the 136 and it leads to a budding relationship through text messages.

Gotta Find My Corner (Of the Sky) by doctornineandthreequarters [complete | general audiences | 31.3k words]

It was the last day of 2016 and two lost souls found themselves in a quiet dive bar, as the loud noises of the city celebrating New Year’s Eve buzzed around them. Most people chose loud, flashy bars with DJs and entrance fees and promises of champagne for New Year’s Eve. But both occupants of the dive bar preferred the quiet. They both didn’t need the added chaos when everything around them already felt chaotic. --- Or, Buck and Eddie meet on New Year's Eve, 2016, a meeting that sets of a series of events that changes the trajectory of both of their lives.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Till I Saw Your Face by @hmslusitania [complete | general audiences | 10.4k words]

After the ladder truck and the blood clot and the tsunami, Bobby makes Buck go to therapy before he does something stupid (like sue the city). Buck's not totally comfortable being alone with a therapist, but fortunately he makes a friend and ally who's willing to help him out - Eddie Diaz from the 136 who's just been caught in an illegal fight club. OR Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

i want your midnights by allyasavedtheday [complete | teen and up audiences | 36.3k words]

In which Eddie decides to rent out his spare room to help with mortgage repayments right around the time Buck decides to move out of Abby's place after some not so gentle prodding from Maddie. It's a coincidence. Or serendipity. Or maybe just really good timing.

i wanna be know (by you) by @starlightbuck [complete | general audiences | 12.5k words]

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Hen glances down at Eddie’s phone then back up at him in disbelief.

“How do you ‘not mean’ to download a bunch of dating apps but still have them on your phone?”

Or  In which Eddie delves into the intimidating world of online dating.

if i got locked away (would you still love me the same?) by @firefighterhan [complete | general audiences | 3.7k words]

Buck gets accidentally thrown in jail after meddling in a fight outside of a grocery store. There, he meets an unexpected guest, famous music artist Eddie Diaz, who is being suspiciously quiet about how he ended up here in the first place.

if only in my dreams by @buttercupbuck [complete | general audiences | 5.4k words]

Years before Eddie joins the 118, Buck meets him at an airport bar on Christmas day.

in a week by @buttercupbuck [complete | explicit | 78.9k]

in which Eddie joins the U.S. Forest Service and in the meadows of California, finds the things he thought he lost and the things he thought he'd never have.

It Started With A Bang And A Hostage Situation by JayJay__884 [complete | general audiences | 6.6k words]

Buck goes to the store one late night to buy food because of Maddie's pregnancy cravings. Whilst at the store, Buck accidentally gets caught in the middle of a robbery and gets knocked out. After waking up in the backroom, Buck finds himself as a hostage with a handsome and caring stranger.

Leading with the Left by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [complete | explicit | 84.7k]

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico." And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

Lift me up by @captain--sif [complete | teen and up audiences | 5.5k words]

Buck gets stuck in his apartment building's broken elevator with his good-looking neighbor from the sixth floor.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [complete | explicit | 11.2k words]

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

*stupidly handsome and annoyingly talented rival spy

Mr. Buckley's After Hours Detention by aresaphrodites [complete | mature | 11.4k words]

It’s not like Eddie Diaz planned on this. Really, there was no scenario in his mind where he would ever be bringing his son’s teacher a freaking goody basket to class; a homemade goody basket, no less. Then again, Christopher has never had a teacher quite like Evan Buckley.

MukbangsWithBuck by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 19.3k words]

After growing tired of eating alone in his loft, Buck decides to start a YouTube channel where he records himself eating dinner and telling stories about crazy things his team has encountered on calls. He eventually gains a substantial fanbase, and he is led to the channel of another LA firefighter who uploads informational videos and also casual vlogs with his ten-year-old son. It isn't long before the two start a friendship through messages, both of them secretly hoping it will turn into something more. Or, Eddie and Buck are both firefighters/YouTubers and they end up falling in love.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates [complete | explicit | 139.1k words]

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.  But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie. Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back. He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head. 

Passive Aggressive Flirting by @starlingbite [complete | general audiences | 4.5k words]

Buck and Eddie have never met. They both work at the 118 but just on different shifts. That's all about to change when Buck finds a sticky note message, signed E.

String of hearts... by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 11.1k words]

“Now. Eddie is this incredible presence. He’s funny and smoking hot, and he has a son who sounds wonderful. And he’s serious and vulnerable at times. But so enjoyable to be around, every single second that he’s there. And how can I put myself out there when the expectation is so high? When the thing I might lose is so beautiful?”

In which Buck owns a plant shop in LA, and Eddie becomes his new favorite customer. Pining ensues.

check out my post of buddie fics with dad!buck

#i will probably do a part two of this because i have more but this post its already way too big #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #fic rec #911 #911 fox #911 on fox #buck x eddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #otp: you act like you're expendable but you're wrong #tv: 9-1-1 #*

[kittybellestark]

Oops I think I’m late to the ask thing... but what’s your favorite marvel fics that you have read?? You can also add yours btw

It’s never too late, I love answering these questions honestly the more the merrier

EDIT: Link to some other fave’s I recc’d back in November that I also love vvvvv much 

I most definitely will not be adding my own to this list I like my stuff full like a full two minutes and only actually like only one fic that I’ve posted long term so oops but lemme go thru my history and stuff and I’ll get some of my faves lined up

also this took me hours and i wanted to put more but when i was going thru my history you could always tell when i was about to get my monthly visit which is kinda really funny but also made this much harder than it needed to be 

some recent faves of mine is under the cut

Your Heart Changed (Mine Stayed the Same) by  loisselina (LoisSelina)

Peter Parker is back but 5 years into the future and the world has changed. Peter goes home with May only to find she had moved on, with a husband and two kids. Peter struggles to find his place in this new family with a strict step uncle, the longer he's there the harder he finds it to stay on his good side, uncertain if May will believe him.

Contains physical abuse, emotional/verbal abuse, and May Parker being neglectful at the very least.

Notes: I still haven’t read the last two chapter bc I’m not ready for it to be over, it’s really good and I am a sucker for Peter coming back post snap and is put into a bad situation bc no one handled their grief well

You Better Let Somebody Love You (Before It’s Too Late) by ambivilantangst

Tony finds Spider-Man on the roof of his favorite coffee shop.

A few days after Siberia, it hurts to move—to reply to Spider-Man, even, when he tries to talk—but Tony, while irritated, assumes it’s a one-off incident.

It’s not.

Tony keeps leaving the too-quiet Tower for his caffeine fix, Spider-Man keeps popping up against the shop’s heater vent, and as weeks turn into months, Tony finds himself with a new friend. And if Spider-Man is a little dodgy here and there, well, Tony figures everyone’s entitled to their secrets.

//

Or, Tony doesn’t recruit Spider-Man for the Avengers’ Civil War. Maybe if he had, he would’ve caught that something was up with the guy before things went to shit.

Notes: this one is really good. Tony tries to keep Spider-Man at arms length and while having some suspicions about him he respects the secret identity and the friendship they’ve built together. Everyone is hurt and then everyone is healing and i just ugh I love these sort of things

It’s a Secret to Everybody by StarPrince_Punk

“I have kids," Clint said. "I know dad behavior when I see it.” Tony blinked multiple consecutive times, processing the statement. “Excuse me?” “Tony,” Steve said now, “how long have you had a son? And how come we’ve never known about him?” “Yeah,” Clint spoke again, “I thought I was the only one with a secret family. Turns out you’ve had one longer than me!” ------- Peter gets to spend all summer living in Avengers Tower with Tony. When the Rogue Avengers get pardoned and come back to live at the Tower too, they're confused as to who Peter is. However, once they see how Tony acts around Peter, that confusion goes away, as they know for certain who Peter must be - Tony's secret son. Tony and Peter decide to make the most of the situation, and play along. They hope they can keep up the act all summer. But they soon learn that they barely have to act at all.

Notes: This is one of the first multi-chap irondad fics that I read, I had read  one shots before hand, and I mostly read Avengers Found Family and Tony/literally anyone in the avengers pairings before getting into irondad. So it holds a small place in my heart being one of the first multi-chap fics. I love the confusion, the shenanigans the way how everyone is in on the joke except for the avengers and how this made Tony and Peter bond into a father-son relationship. idk im sentimental ig

Body Pillow by The_Winter_Writer

It wasn't a surprise that everyone in the Tower seemed a bit cautious and wary around him. Bucky completely understood. That's why it was a surprise when someone, a very breakable someone, decided the Winter Soldier was an acceptable choice for sleepy cuddling.

Notes: Surprise Shawty it’s Winteriron and not irondad. This is just so cute and I really enjoy the way Bucky doesn’t trust himself and is being ostracized by others and he just is so insecure and accepts that ??? and Tony just rolls in and is like ‘ah yes optimal place to sleep is ontop of you’  like yes tony i too would love to sleep ontop of bucky u right anyways i love my insecure boys they so soft

Chances Missed, Chances Taken by winterbitch (WinterLadyy)

Steve, with Peggy's help, realizes that he's in fact, in love with his best friend who he left back in the present. He decides to go back to him. Only, something went wrong and 3 weeks for him had been 3 years in his present and there's an unhappy surprise waiting for him. Apparently, Bucky is capable of finding new friends himself, and even finding a family... A happiness of his own.

Notes: Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve. His assumptions really come back to bite him in the butt and I don’t really feel as bad for him as I should. I don’t know, maybe I’m cold but he is much more reliant on Bucky then Bucky is on Steve and just, I like that Bucky built a whole life for himself and idk I guess there’s a little part of me that feels satisfaction in the fact that Steve doesn’t get the happy ending he wanted. idk makes me feel like im a lil cold sometimes but i have a love/hate relationship with steve mcu!steve is just so blah yknow 

#rec list #iron dad #irondad #peter parker #marvel #tony stark #spiderman #spiderson #avengers #bi peter parker #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #steve rogers #buckybarnes #some faves

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 23)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Janus, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Janus, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Meanwhile, everyone else is trying to find a missing 15 year old, all with different pieces of the puzzle about where he is. It really is too bad that no one is answering their phones.

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 My Master Post

“Would anyone care to explain themselves?” Logan asked the room filled with the most frustrating human being he’d ever met. He must have infused his voice with the desired amount of ire, because everyone in the room seemed to wince simultaneously except…

“No thanks!” Remus chirped. Logan shot him a tired look and stepped forward. “Wait! Dad! No!” In a move he’d been using since Remus was a rambunctious child, Logan swiftly put him in a headlock.

“We’re going downstairs,” he told the others. His son was a bit wiggly when Logan started to pull him towards the elevator in the other room, but he didn’t actually put up a fight. In fact, the wiggling usually meant he was pleased with the attention.

He let Remus go when they got to their destination. The elevator was small enough that they ended up taking it in two groups. Logan ended up in an elevator with Lena, his sons, and his brother.

There were a couple of moments of awkward elevator music. “I am very displeased with everyone in this elevator,” Logan informed them all.

No one responded but Patton who patted him on the shoulder. Logan turned on him. “You are at the pinnacle of my ire.”

There were a few seconds of drawn out silence, and then Patton removed his hand. “Wow,” he said after a moment. “You could hear a pen-acle drop.”

“Kids, you no longer have an uncle,” Logan said coolly.

“That’s right,” Patton said with a smile despite the glare Logan was sending him. “You only have a puncle now.”

Roman snorted out a laugh but looked quickly away when Logan glared at him.

The elevator came to a stop and they climbed out of it. “You all go to the conference room while I wait for the rest. Except you,” he pointed at Lena and her bloody nose. “Fred can debrief me. You go get that checked out.” She shot him a thumbs up (because apparently the lack of disrespect for his authority had rubbed off on her) and wandered off towards medical.

“Um,” Roman said tentatively.

“Yes?” Logan asked, already even more tired.

“Also, Janus may or may not have a broken rib. At least he said he might have.”

“Why on Earth is he walking around, then?” Roman just shrugged in response to Logan’s question.

“And send someone down to look at his Janus apparently,” he called after Lena right before she turned the corner. “Anything else pressing?” he asked the three still with him. “No? Then I’ll see you all in the conference room in a few minutes.”

“Conference room 16 or 17?” Remus asked.

“Remus, everyone here is aware that room 17 is a broom closet,” Logan said. “No one is falling for that again.”

Remus sent him finger guns. “Conference room 17 it is,” he said turning to strut off down the hall. Roman shot Logan an awkward half smile before following after his brother, and Logan’s own brother jerked forward to smack his lips against Logan’s forehead before waltzing off after them.

Why was his family like this?

He turned to wait for the elevator to go back up to the factory and down again. He crossed his arms as it arrived. “You’re injured?” Logan asked as the doors opened.

Most of the occupants looked confused, but Janus looked slightly annoyed. “Remus,” he muttered.

“Roman actually,” Logan corrected. “I’m having someone sent down to look at you.”

“I’m f-”

“Don’t even try to argue right now; your second on my list today.”

“Remus is first?” Janus asked.

“Of course, Remus is first.”

“Where am I on the shit list?” Remy asked with interest.

“Somehow, only 5th.”

“Score!”

“But you’re inexorably moving up.”

“But I’m not in the top three.”

“No, my children and brother fill up the spots above you.”

“You said I was second,” Janus said with a frown.

“Yes,” Logan said. “Also, you’re grounded.” Then, he turned to walk towards the conference room.

“Wait, Logan, what does that mean?!” Janus asked his back.

“It means, Logan owes me a buttload of child support,” said Remy.

“I am not your kid. You are not my dad.”

“Sure, son.”

When Logan made it to the correct room, his family was already hard at work making his life a series of aggravations. Patton and Roman were already bent over some sort of project that involved markers, but Remus was missing. Before even stepping into the room, he turned to the opposite side of the hallway and opened the door to the supply closet.

“Get in the correct room before I make you get into the correct room,” Logan said.

“Come on dad, you know it’s not nice to force someone out of the closet.” On most days, Logan would not have found that at all funny, but today for some reason, it elicited a snort of surprised laughter. Remus smiled up at him from his seat on the floor like he always did when he’d done (or thought he’d done) something clever.

“Don’t,” Logan warned, wagging a finger at him, and trying to smooth the smile off his face. It was difficult since his chest was light with the relief of everyone he cared for being relatively unharmed. “Don’t. That doesn’t mean your forgiven. I am very, very unhappy with you.”

Remus just kept grinning.

“I’m relieved that you are safe and happy to have you back with me,” Logan said, “but I am also very angry.”

“Eh, that’s fair.”

“Now get out of the closet.”

Remus found it fit to obey him for the moment, and stood, following him to the conference room where the others had gathered. Patton had somehow found a stack of name tags somewhere and had managed to convince Roman to help him draw little pictures on them along with the names. Patton stuck one with a broom drawn on it onto Remus when he came in. He noticed Virgil’s had a knife drawn on it and Remy’s a cup of coffee. Logan’s own was, aggravatingly, a mobile phone.

Remy and Fredrick were currently forcing Janus into a chair while Roman avoided the glare the injured man was sending at him, and Emile was talking quietly to Virgil.

“Okay,” Logan said. “Let’s start with the ones who haven’t started to explain yet. Roman?”

“My phone got broken probably somewhere between Janus tackling me and hitting me in the face.”

“Oh, is that why Dad texted me about where you were a thousand times?” Remus asked

“Yes,” Logan said, “and you said you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t say that actually.”

“Remus.”

“I was in the middle of something! …And then I forgot.”

“And then it ended up in the bottom of a lake,” Roman said.

“And then it ended up in the bottom of a lake!” Remus agreed. “Along with Roman’s car and us for a minute.”

“You drove your car into a lake?” Logan asked Roman. He felt like his eyes was going to start twitching. “Is that why you are all wet?!”

“Yes, he did!” Remus said.

“Hey! No!” Roman said. “I managed to stop the car before it went into the lake. It’s not my fault the guys behind us aren’t as good drivers as me and slammed into us!”

“Roman destroyed another car!” Remus crooned, and there was the eye twitch. “What’s that? Three? And you say Janus is cursed!”

“I take so responsibility for the Taurus or for this one!”

“Two’s a coincidence; three’s a pattern!” Remus sang joyfully.

Logan shook his head at them and chose to look over at Janus instead. “And you?” he asked. “You looked at your mission details and never responded.”

“You were trying to send me on a wild goose chase when my brother was missing!” He tried to stand up and Remy pushed him back down again.

“I was trying to get you in a controlled environment before telling you of the issues for fear you would overreact and do something careless if you found out on your own.”

“I already knew,” Janus growled, “and that is not your call to make.”

Logan considered that. “Perhaps it wasn’t,” he agreed, “but you still should have attempted to communicate with me, at the very least so I would have known you were okay. For all I knew, Nelson had caught you in a lie and your cover had been blown.”

“It is blown,” Janus muttered. “I smashed her phone, blew up her car, and disobeyed her. She sent men to kill me.”

That information was honestly a relief in a way. Janus had been in danger constantly while being a double agent and Logan had grown more than fond of the man in the last few years. Not having to play nice with Barbara all the time would do him some good.

“We’ll have to reassign you,” Logan said. “As well as Remus, and you’ll both need new permanent residences.”

“We already decided we’re getting an apartment together,” Remus said.

“You decided,” Janus said weakly, clearly not actually interested in protesting, but needing to keep up appearances.

“And we’re going to get a kitty.”

“Ah,” Logan said. “Well, in that case, I would highly suggest you verify it is in fact a ‘kitty’ before you allow it on the premises. I have made that mistake before.”

“You love Raphael,” Remus claimed.

“Possum,” Roman explained at Janus’s questioning look.

“In fact,” Logan said. “It may be advisable that Remington consider moving as well. Nelson very much knows where you live and will likely be unhappy with your continued existence. At least, you should consider taking up residence somewhere else temporarily. For tonight, I’ll get everyone set up in some of the rooms in the base, but that will come later. For now, we need to get everything sorted out. I have a good overall idea about what happened at this point, is there any other important information I need to deal with immediately?”

Most everyone shook their heads and Logan was about to move on to getting more detailed reports when Remus raised his hand.

“Yes?” Logan asked.

“There are two of Barbara Nelson’s men tied up in the trunk of Lena’s car,” he offered.

“What?” Logan asked.

“They were the guys shooting at us that caused Roman to drive into the pond.”

“I did not drive into the pond.” Roman said.

“You were shot at?!”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 24

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #janus sanders #virgil sanders #platonic moxiety #emile picani #remy sanders #kidnapping #murder mentioned #guns #car crash #nose injury #adriana writes #road trips and missing persons #road trips and everything in between

[ymbly]

Sanders Sides Fan Fic: Switched

Chapter 1/?

AN: This chapter follows quite close to the first episode of the show, but as the fic goes on it will go a bit more out on its own

-

Three.

There were three. 

Apathy, Pride, Judgment.

Logan, Roman, Patton.

Dark, evil, ‘Dark Sides’.

-

Three.

There were three.

Caution, passion, self preservation.

Virgil, Remus, Janus.

Light, good, ‘Light Sides’.

-

One.

Thomas.

Thomas Sanders.

His role in this was more confusing than the world itself. 

-

Sides.

Strange beings with much of them unknown. 

All of which wore the same face.

Each with their own color the rainbow.

The one thing that made each unique.

-

Things had been unchanged for decades. Everybody had their roles. Their part to play. Their domain of Thomas’ psyche. 

They each had something to do. A job that never changed. Perhaps that’s why several were growing bored of their current lives.

-

--

---

----

---

--

-

A web series wasn’t exactly Janus’ favorite idea of Thomas. In fact, he heavily disliked the idea of Thomas creating one. Not to mention the fact that the web series was supposed to include the sides in it. Now that, he despised even more. He’d much prefer Thomas to be out pursuing a more traditional path to fame, but what could he do? It’s not like he was the one driving Thomas’ passion.

Virgil wasn’t against the idea by any means, more just the fact that he had to be in it. Being the literal embodiment of caution didn’t exactly help with this by any means. The camera hadn’t even started yet and he already felt like his heart was going to burst out of his ribcage. However, nobody else seemed to notice this since over the years he’d gotten quite good at disguising his fear. 

Remus was always excited to do something new, so this was no different. He felt as if there was electricity running through his veins. The kind of excitement mixed with slight anxiety that leaves you feeling drained later but pumped up in the moment.

Thomas had nearly finished the intro, and while there was little script for the sides, they all knew soon would be the time for them all to join in on the conversation.

“I need to have a sit down with myself, figure myself out, and maybe come to a better understanding that we all could learn from. Let’s do this!”

Virgil was the first pop up, oh god why did he have to be first?

“Hey,” Virgil greeted simply as he appeared on screen.

“This is my cautious side,” Thomas began, “My fears, fight or flight, all of that is in his domain. He’s also a constant reminder of my emo phase.”

“Hey-!” 

“Hey did you know that one fourth of the bones in your whole body are in your feet?” Remus quickly interrupted as he rose up. Virgil let out a quiet sigh at Remus’ introduction. Could’ve been worse though, so there was that. 

Thomas paused for a second before speaking, “This is my passionate side...somehow. Everything that keeps going, and random facts too apparently.”

“Gotta spice things up sometimes, Thomathy,” Remus replied.

“How is a random fact about bones ‘spicing things up’?”

“I’m surprised things aren’t more derailed,” Janus stated as he finally appeared in the room.

“We’re close,” Virgil answered as he eyed Remus. The chaoticness could be annoying, but he didn’t mind it too much usually. 

“And finally this is my self preservation,” Thomas started as he went back to his cheerful attitude from before, “Well, not as much in the physical sense, but trying to make sure I get by okay in life…I think,” Thomas attempted to explain.

“He also looks like he stepped right out of Spirit Halloween,” Virgil quietly said under his breath while looking at Janus.

“Says the one who looks like he hasn’t seen a mirror in weeks,” Janus replied. 

“Now enough of that, you two can fight when we’re not recording,” Thomas quickly added, breaking off the short argument.

“So what are we doing here anyways?” Virgil questioned.

“Well, people know me from all the Vines I make, but I don’t feel like people really know me know me.”

“Well perhaps they would if you posted YouTube videos more often,” Janus replied.

With a slightly annoyed look on his face, Thomas responded, “Okay, all right, that’s fair,” Thomas quickly started, “But I don’t know if I know me! There’s some things even I need to figure out about my own identity. Like, okay, relationships.”

“A one way ticket to-,” Remus began.

“Let’s not go through that door,” Janus cut in.

“Just gotta find somebody that will accept you for your flaws, I guess,” Virgil adds.

“Everybody does have their own flaws, and you could say that love is about accepting those,” Janus tried to explain. 

“Yes, that is definitely important. Flaws and all. Speaking of which-.”

“Are we bringing up flaws now? ‘Cause you have more than -” Remus quickly began.

“Passion, sto-,” Virgil started before being interrupted.

“I believe this would be of interesting conversation,” Janus once again cut in.

“You’re so fucking boring!” Remus said to Thomas.

“You’re often too selfless,” Janus added in.

“You keep changing your path in life, like all the time, way too often,” Virgil finally gets out.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Thomas quickly said after. 

“Well, remember everybody does have flaws,” Janus reassured.

“You’ve got good parts about you too, like uh, like you’re alive,” Virgil replied since he couldn’t think of a compliment.

“You aren’t a murderer,” Remus started, “Yet!” 

“Excellent compliments, guys,” Janus remarked as he rolled his eyes, “You try your best to get your work done and it shows. There, not that hard.”

“Well, thanks I guess, guys,” Thomas responded.

“It’s hard to think of stuff on the spot, okay?” Virgil attempted to reassure him as he messed with the strings of his hoodie. 

“Okay then, what else do I need to figure out?”

“Biggest fear?” Virgil quickly replied without thinking.

“Being boring!” Remus quickly answered.

“What happens after death,” Janus followed.

“What if you were stuck in a state of limbo for the rest of your life-,” Virgil began to reply to his own question as his eyeshadow slightly darkened.

“No, no, we are not talking about fears! I am well aware of those! I am talking about what I need to figure out about myself,” Thomas anxiously interjected. 

“Would you eat a clone of yourself if you had no other source of food?” Remus spontaneously questioned.

“Not...not those kinds of questions, Remus,” Thomas replied with a sigh.

“What kind of an impact do you wish to leave on the world?” Janus added, replacing Remus’ question with his own.

With that began the end of the video and Thomas’ speech to the viewer. Virgil felt less anxious than he thought he’d be, Remus felt, well, like Remus, and Janus felt a bit drained but other than that quite good. One by one, they sank out. Virgil, however, couldn’t stop a thought from rattling around the back of his head. What if this series provoked the dark sides?

-

I don’t write much so it might not be the best but hey I tried

Ao3 link

Edit: Formatting is a little weird because tumblr doesn’t let me do it the way I like

#sanders sides #ts janus #Janus sanders #ts remus #Remus sanders #ts virgil #Virgil sanders #sanders sides au #c!thomas #character thomas #character thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #I write stuff #switched au #tw swearing

[ghostmartyr]

So if you, like me, have nothing to do but wonder about the state of my inbox, you might rightfully be wondering how I plan to deal with the obscene backlog I have spent so many years failing to deal with.

If you have never wondered that, fear not, that doesn’t exclude you from finding out.

Today we’re just going to go through my entire slew of unanswered asks, and instead of answering them, I am going to provide excuses for why I didn’t do anything with them.

For added fun, several of the asks were in my Drafts.

I will not be cutting out the comments I started to make.

I will no doubt regret this.

Let’s have a time, shall we?

I don’t even know what year this is from. If I remember correctly, I didn’t get back to you because I thought about trying to reason out who would legitimately win, and there were too many points for both sides. I kept intending to come up with a proper answer, then time went by and this got buried.

Though the actual answer is probably “it depends on who gets the main character sticker at the time.”

...

..

.

Well.

I can tell you this is multiple years old.

We, as humans, aren’t equipped for time travel.

I didn’t answer this one because I didn’t feel like it was asking for one, and I’m only reproducing it here because it is really, really funny now.

Two years old. Plus change.

I think the entire reason I never replied to this one is that it cheered me up whenever I scrolled down enough to see it, so thank you.

You know, I entered the link at the time. Really, I did. But then came trying to come up with a comment and what can you really follow that with?

(Click the link.)

Okay then.

I still feel no need to respond to this, so that’s probably why I didn’t to start with.

Historia and literally anyone.

I don’t remember why I didn’t answer this, which usually means some combination of feeling tired and not being in the mood to scroll down to where it was.

Oops.

The thing is, this crosses dangerously close to being a fic idea. Fic ideas take time and effort. You can imagine the absolute dread I felt at having to engage with either concept.

It would have been a lot of fun to do, though. Hats off.

See, again. This is a very interesting concept that requires thought. I can tell you when I received it I was in no mood for anything that required anything of the sort.

I wrote a fic that is possibly never going to see the light of day now where they hang out in a kitchen with hot chocolate together and bond through unstated trauma and Frieda attempting to make things better.

That probably contributed to interfering with imagining how they would actually get along.

Anyway, I ship them slightly in that fic AU. Don’t @ me.

Oh dang. I remember this.

I actually really wanted to answer it, but the problem is that I wanted to come up with a good answer. Every character, tiered by their chances. A full Hunger Games edition of what went down and who killed who.

Then I didn’t.

Anyway, turns out the answer is that no one feels the need to chop of rocking chairs in a hurry, so she’d last a long time!

I didn’t answer this because I try to avoid responding with, “I don’t know.” My secondary answer would probably have been, “By being killed.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with those answers, but unless there’s been a tonal trend in asks, I assume that pithy answers that don’t actually have any meat behind them would not be appreciated.

I would stick to him probably being killed, though. But some signs do point to him being relatively immortal.

Hm.

Hmm.

I don’t know why I didn’t answer this, but I would guess it had something to do with me caring very little about Ymir’s thoughts on anything outside of her little clutch of people. And ongoing trauma of repeated dead/alive Ymir commentary killing off my desire to come up with a good answer.

Sorry?

I... have no idea why I didn’t answer this? Maybe I didn’t see it?

Anyway, yes.

There’s a longer version behind that yes, and I’m sure that might have contributed to never getting around to answering this. ...Assuming a past where I did actually see this one.

I have a confession.

I don’t really like crossovers.

There’s a sliding scale of degree, but that’s basically why this didn’t get a response.

Ah, we’ve landed on a recurring theme.

Sometimes, answers involve me thinking about the entire cast.

The usual consequence of that is I don’t have the energy for that, so nothing ever happens with these.

Oh, this one’s easy.

I had no fucking clue.

No ideas, head empty.

That didn’t seem like a good answer, so here we are, probably around a year later. I still have no clue. If I were forced to write a singing duo AU, I would probably just put some adjectives and nouns into a blender and flip a coin.

Names are hard.

I think I didn’t answer this one because I felt like I’d answered similar asks before. And I’m not really sure when this is from, but it’s possible canon complicated coming up with an answer that wasn’t distressed screeching.

Something something give Connie and Mikasa hugs, not partial about where they get them from.

Apparently not. Oops.

I can’t remember why I didn’t respond to this one. It’s possible the oodles of bad parenting proved too distracting to formulate such a post.

Sometimes I get an ask, and my immediate, gut reaction is, how the fuck should I know?

If I can move past that, the ask is answered.

If I can’t, the ask continues its descent through scroll hell.

I am sorry. There are no answers here.

Yeah, this is just the same as the above, just with I have no idea.

It’d probably be a Madoka Magic deal.

Huh. I don’t remember passing this one over. If I were to guess a timeline, I was probably too bitter over potential post-timeskip looks that I never got to be interested in focusing on the characters lucky enough to get good ones.

Go Connie for being less short, I suppose.

This clearly belonged to something that I was doing, but time has eroded the context, so I am simply left with failure and disappointment on all sides. Sorry.

Aw, we’re getting into the boring part of the inbox now, I think. Not because of the questions; you guys are always great. But I can’t think of a reason why I wouldn’t have answered this, which leads me to think that the reason was I was too tired to put words together.

That’s a boring reason, so maybe I should go into Drafts for the next few...

Yeah, still unfairly prejudiced against crossovers. I am no fun, etc. etc.

I have no memory of it, but I feel like I didn’t answer this because there was no way I could match this kindly anon’s enthusiasm.

You go, random internet person.

You have good ideas.

Oh no.

Uh.

See.

I know exactly why I didn’t answer this one.

I am so sorry, Anon.

I really didn’t care.

I am filled with affection for you because you clearly do, but uh.

...I basically put this on Read.

This has a very simple, ie boring, explanation. Any time someone asks about the cast as a whole, I want to think about the cast as a whole, and that takes a lot more thought than most of the asks I get. Cue putting it off. Cue it getting lost in scroll hell. On and on we go until we end up here.

Anything that opens with kilometers is something that requires more brain power than I have had in the past year.

Also I think I got this during a spoiler week, so I saw it, but I was trying not to look at it, and then it got lost in the post-chapter asks.

That happens a lot.

We might see it more soon.

If I can’t come up with words more than “-shrug-” I try not to answer.

...Good news, though!

The manga did my job for me!

I feel like I answered some variation of this. That might be why I didn’t answer this specific one.

The wiki does a better job keeping track of the timeline than I ever have. I probably didn’t answer this because it would involve trying to remember which volume actually name-dropped a number of weeks or months. Searching for lines I know a character said is pretty easy, but searching out lines I have a vague feeling of someone providing? That tends to hit the frustration button with the force of a truck.

But yeah, if you ever want to know how long something took, the wiki is absolutely your friend. They do good work.

Consider: “What if” questions are hard, and I am lazy.

This is actually one I really did mean to get to, sorry. It’s an interesting thought, and I miss Sasha.

...I clearly did a magnificent job answering your asks, friend.

Prediction asks are hard for me; I feel like I’m throwing darts randomly into the air and the dartboard is still deciding if it’s going to show up. So uh. I guess I just kept putting this off until it didn’t get answered.

This post is going to have so many apologies. Implied and otherwise.

I continue to be the No Fun Police who accidentally-on-purpose avoids crossover commentary.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one entirely because seeing it in my inbox gave me far too much joy to have it lost in a sea of posts.

This is what my inbox was made for.

I have no idea when this was from, but I see your emotions and appreciate them, Anon.

...Did I not see this one?

Hey, Anon who probably doesn’t remember sending this: This is a good ask and deserved some good attention, and I’m sorry I missed my shot at it. Good thoughts.

I didn’t answer this one entirely because I knew I couldn’t match the energy of it, and responding with anything less felt heretical.

That is one hell of a mood, Anon.

This is definitely from the era of, “Can’t think, brain empty.” Sorry about not getting back to you, I just really couldn’t organize my thoughts well enough to come up with an answer.

I feel like I didn’t know what this was continuing from and was too exhausted to ask.

LOOK YOU CAN SEE I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS BECAUSE IT’S A DRAFT.

Too many things, Anon.

I liked so many things about all of that. Trying to turn that enthusiasm into words wasn’t agreeing with me, so I put it in Drafts and told myself one day I’d do the most awesome post detailing everything.

Intentions, huh?

Every time I tried to take a normal screenshot with formatting Tumblr just laughed at me, so that might have been a contributing factor.

Dang, I’m really sorry. This is another one of those cases where I wanted to take my time with a response, and I took too long.

I, uh.

Am guilty of not being too interested in pondering Ymir’s thoughts on Levi or Erwin.

That’s it, that’s the explanation.

Yeah, I just couldn’t come up with an answer here? Or someone else asked? Or several of my friends decided to be annoying about lists on Discord? I don’t even know.

Presumably there could be a list.

There is not.

Honestly, I just couldn’t figure out how to follow that starting sentence up. A thought exercise on Armin, Historia, gender, and themes sounded really interesting, and I put it in Drafts so as not to forget it being interesting.

Then, you know. This post sort of paints the picture.

Ah.

Man, I really was looking forward to putting some proper thought into this. That’s the problem with having so many things I love in one place, I guess. Symbolism? Historia and Ymir? Mikasa? So many good things! Where do I start!

With paralyzing indecision that results in not a lot. Sorry, Anon. This really did light up my day when I got it.

Here’s the thing about me and writing:

I often fail to.

(I love both these ideas, though.)

Yes.

Do I know why I didn’t get around to answering this?

Absolutely not.

But yes, I’d agree with that.

GOOD NEWS!

The manga actually gave us some of them together in the future.

I occasionally giggled over their shared distaste.

It was a good time.

And this is another one I just do not know why I didn’t answer, whoops.

This never got answered because I couldn’t come up with an answer.

Broad questions are scary because they can go just about anywhere and I didn’t know how to handle that level of commitment.

I think I didn’t answer this one, A), because words are hard, and B), because mostly I just wanted to listen to more of your wondering and less of mine.

I probably could have answered this by saying I don’t have any, but that seemed rude, so I didn’t respond to it at all.

Yep.

Frieda is worthy of my time and effort.

Landing this in Drafts instead of my inbox.

Where the lighting makes it more obvious that hope has gone there to die.

I think about it so much too.

I find the answers fundamentally upsetting.

That is probably why I did not provide an answer here.

That is a lot of kids to make up headcanons for.

So I didn’t.

She’s eaten by dogs before she develops a personality.

Since that seemed like the wrong thing to say, I said nothing, and into Drafts this went.

‘I have no earthly clue’ seemed similarly unhelpful.

At this point, we understand that there is no mystery to my backlog.

This one hurts.

-sees the 112 reference-

Wow does it hurt.

As I hope is obvious, I really, really loved this question, and kept meaning to carve out time to work on it specifically. What went sideways was trying to put words to how EMA functions. I knew the feel of what I wanted to express, but every time I tried to write it, it came out wonky.

I’m very sorry I couldn’t do anything for this, because I was thrilled to spend time with it.

I didn’t answer this because Fuck Marley.

It’s nothing against you. At the time, I simply wasn’t in any mood to consider any version of Marley. Even the canon version was too much for me, so giving it my time in a roleswap AU had me hissing.

Roleswaps in general are amazing, and I love them a lot. A dedicated person could make a fantastic one based around Marley and Paradis. I think it would probably be cool af.

But I was so tired of Marley when I got this, I just couldn’t make myself think about it. Sorry. It’s a fun idea.

I didn’t answer this one because I kept trying to extend my response past, “I think he just really likes baseball.”

I think he just really likes baseball.

My feelings on that as a quality answer are derogatory.

Mm. The ones where I actually tried to get something started hurts.

Ultimately, this ask was a larger demand than I could make my brain work through at the time. I made sure to write down the tl;dr version of Sasha’s, because I found that desperately important, and not something that people talk about much, but the additional weight of trying to think of themes for multiple characters made it hard to progress.

Me, looking at the prompts: Hi my brain left me.

Sorry, Anon. Too many gears were moving for me to get a proper feel for what I wanted to do with this one, so I ended up ditching it. ...I was planning to finish it, though. Eventually. See, I even put the quote in the Draft version as a reminder of what I was doing, so I could get back to it right away.

Yeeeeah, this is just one more to the “I will give this wonderful thing all the time it deserves!” pile.

The pile is stored in the Failure Corner.

Perfectionism is the enemy of progress.

You guys really like crossovers.

I love that for you.

-spends two years ignoring you-

I mean, I just didn’t know what to do with the rainbows.

They sure are there.

They sure are pretty.

I sure couldn’t come up with a comment to add.

...I don’t know why I didn’t answer this. Possibly because I think it’s fine? I’m not too attached to it, and spent the whole manga period wanting to watch an anime version instead, then we got an anime version.

I’d guess that my general “meh” feelings interfered with responding here.

No idea why I didn’t answer this.

Yes, and good for you.

I support all thoughts on giving the Reiss kiddos personalities.

I think I didn’t get back to you on this because I wasn’t sure how to encourage you to keep going so I just sat awkwardly on my hands and felt weird about not saying anything.

...Thanks for sharing!

I love how it’s the little things that date these.

Unfortunately, we’re now at the point where 90% of the reason I didn’t answer was because I was too sick to muster up anything approaching enthusiasm.

Or because I’d just finished answering a bunch of chapter-specific things and was burnt out.

This felt pretty self-explanatory to me, so I felt like that gave me permission to ignore it.

Also, it mentions Marley.

I might be slightly petty.

Really though, I think what stopped me from giving a proper answer is that the question of what an author is trying to say throws me off a little. I work better thinking of it in terms of what the story is saying, with the author just happening to be the hands that wrote it all down.

I don’t know. This was probably another case of feeling like I should give this more of my time than I was able.

I couldn’t decide.

That’s it.

That’s the reason.

Everyone needs to give Mikasa a hug.

My blog title for a hug.

-the crossover snake hisses and consumes another-

I am so sorry.

This is fun.

I probably should have just gone with posting and saying so, because I am genuinely charmed by this. I tend to feel like I have to add something to asks to justify the post. That policy maybe didn’t need to be a thing.

I love my anons.

I want that to be clear.

Really, I do.

I especially love their willingness to embrace my crackpot logic.

Still.

Sometimes, the only response one can have to Schrodinger’s Ymir is to ignore its existence, find a pillow, and scream into it for the rest of time.

This replaces typing.

-looks at Armin-

-looks at Eren-

Yeah, don’t know why I didn’t answer this one, either. I blame tiredness? Sorry about that.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one because it felt like work.

This is where I start considering that making this post was a mistake.

I could have just agreed with you and gone about my day.

Probably should have.

Did not.

Another one for that, “had nothing to add so I just left it in a corner, abandoned and unloved,” pile.

There is an apology section at the end, but we’re not there yet.

This one I don’t think I noticed.

Alternatively, I did notice, and wasn’t sure “Yes,” would pass as a good enough answer.

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

Okay, time to really just get into it: I think for the remainder of my inbox, I didn’t answer because physically, I was just too damn exhausted, and I kept waiting for a point in time where I’d feel better. Sorry to put a limit on the personalization, but in the end, that’s all there was to it, and rephrasing it a dozen times will make me crazy.

And here we are.

Well.

Good grief, do you guys even have any clue how much I like all of you?

Obviously there’s a lot of guilt in the above, because I can’t tell you how much I wanted, each time, to give a great answer that would make you thrilled you messaged me. I am so sorry to all of these I didn’t get to. There were days when the alerts in my inbox were the best thing to happen to me, and I never wanted to let any of them go without acknowledgment.

I try to say thank you as often as I can in my responses, because that’s as close as I can get to reminding you all, constantly, that I am grateful for your participation. The only times I don’t say it is when I worry that it’ll look like it’s being done out of habit, not genuine gratitude. Or when I think you might take it the wrong way if I say thanks for a basic conversation. Because you provide me content and make me interested in things I might not normally look twice at.

There are so many instances of people saying hi, and thank you, and wishing everyone well here.

I haven’t been active in the larger fandom in two years, but I have always been so happy that you guys kept dropping by my space anyway.

You are a pleasure and light in my life, no matter how much snark I might throw about.

Thank you all.

#attack on asks #tl;dr #long post

[snarkwrites]

summer sizzle | selfish - sweet pea | mature.

PROMPTS USED:

To the music + dirty dancing + “I like you this close to me. You’re warm.” + “You are so fucking beautiful.” + Kiss on the neck +“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” + comfort sex + needy/clingy + touching / kissing heavy + “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” + afterglow; talking and cuddling -

AUTHORS NOTES:

Look at me, being all productive and shit, posting content not once but twice in a week. Ya’ll, it’s been a while. I’m rusty as fuuuuck I won’t lie, but.. This was fun to write, even if it was a complicated little bitch in the beginning. If enough people want it, I might actually develop an actual fic for this Andrews!Oc and Pea, because I think it could be very interesting. In the meantime, unless you’re not 18+, enjoy the smut?

PAIRING:

Sweet Pea x Andrews!Ofc. [ RIVERDALE FANDOM ]

WARNINGS:

I am baaadly out of practice writing smut, first of all. Slightly jerky behavior to start with on Pea’s part, biting, s*x, swearing, overuse of petnames, angst to start with. Porn, but heavy af on the plot because apparently, I cannot write it any other way. BUT HAHAHA! THIS BITCH REMEMBERED TO HAVE THEM WRAP IT UP. I REMEMBERED THE GODDAMN CONDOM.

No children allowed,m’kay? This is smut. Not the filthiest, probably not even the best, but it’s out there.

TAGGING:

uhh.. given that this is smut, I’m gonna tag @rampagewriting​. If anyone else wants to be tagged in my stuff, follow the link below to my google doc and add yourself, yeah?

Life edit, I also tag @xxghostnappaxx​ to this. 

[ four seasons masterlist ] | [ tag list google doc ] | [ faq ]

  ----> SELFISH, a sweet pea x ofc oneshot.

“If you want to go to the dance, Alyssa.. I’m

not

stopping you.” Sweet Pea spoke calmly, giving a shrug as if he didn’t care either way. As he gazed down at me, I sighed and shook my head sadly. I tried stepping a little closer but he backed away like usual.

At this point, I find myself seriously wondering what exactly keeps me coming back.

,, oh, that’s right you stupid, stupid girl, you’re in love with the jerk.” - the thought came, taunting me in it’s brutal and raw truth.

But a girl can only be pushed out so far and honestly?

I was sick of paying for the pain Josie McCoy caused him. I was sick of having to prove myself over and over, I was beyond tired of being tested and questioned. I was tired of hoping against hope that one day, he’d finally get it. He’d realize that unlike pretty much everyone else in his life to this point, I wasn’t going anywhere.

A talk I had with Betty came back and I turned back to look at Sweet Pea, shaking my head. Something in me snapped and before I could stop myself, I was saying something I knew full well I’d come to regret.

“You’re dense. All this time and you don’t get it. You can’t see what’s right here in front of you, begging to be taken. I loved you, okay? Nothing would’ve changed that. But you… You had to keep pushing me away, you had to keep questioning my motives. I’m going to the dance, Sweet Pea. And I think,” I paused, taking a few deep breaths to keep myself calm. 

If I didn’t do it, I was most definitely going to break down sobbing. I wouldn’t ever go through with this because the last thing I want to do right now is turn my back. I mean, I love the guy. I don’t want to give up like pretty much everyone else in his life has. After I’d taken a few seconds to get myself calm again, I kept going, “ I think that I’m also going to leave you alone from now on since that’s obviously what you want.”

I grabbed my backpack and before he could say anything, I walked out of the empty classroom we’d been sitting in. Almost the second I was out in the hallway and standing by my locker, what I’d just done hit me and I wound up sitting on the hallway floor, my head resting against my knees.

“Alyssa?”

I looked up to find Reggie Mantle standing there, staring down at me in concern. “Are you crying?”

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes. I could’ve easily told Reggie Mantle exactly why I was sitting in the floor of the hallway crying, but in the end, I still cared entirely too much for Sweet Pea and the last thing I wanted was for him to get into another fight.

,, don’t flatter yourself. Did you not see just how little he cares when he didn’t try to stop you? When he didn’t wake up at the last second and at least try to fight for you?” the thought sat in my mind, taunting me bitterly. And I still kept the reason I was crying to myself.

Reggie flopped down next to me and kind of awkwardly slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Hey, c’mon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that… Please?” I glanced up at him, wincing a little at the use of the pet-name. Given that pretty much all of Archie’s friends called me that, I realized suddenly that when Sweet Pea called me that, it had taken on a whole new meaning for me. It changed from just a dumb nickname given to me by my older brother and all of his friends to something… Special. Intimate.

And now, I was going to hear it all the time and yeah, it was probably going to hurt like hell.

Reggie eyed me and I gave him a pleading look. “There has to be a million other things you can call me. I’m not a little girl anymore, Reg.” I said it quickly, hoping it wouldn’t raise suspicion or anything.

I didn’t want any of this getting back to Pea, putting him into a situation with my brother or any of his friends. I let out a deep breath that I didn’t even realize I held when Reggie smiled and nodded, seeming to accept my hasty explanation.

“There’s a lot of things I could call you, angel.” he said it so smoothly that I had not a single doubt in my mind that yet again, he was hitting on me.

But I was hurting so much at the moment, I didn’t immediately put him off. I looked up at him and gave a weak sort of smile, shrugging. “Whatever you wanna call me… Just not princess, okay?”

Reggie flashed a grin and gave me the thumbs up, springing up off the hallway floor. He held out his hand and warily, I eyed it a few seconds before finally allowing him to pull me off the floor. He walked me to class and just before I disappeared in the door, he stopped me, dragging his fingers through his hair as he eyed me up. “You gonna be alright, angel?”

“Yeah, it just hasn’t been a good day.”

“If you wanna talk.. You’ve got your old buddy Reggie.”

Somehow, when he said it, I got the distinct feeling that he meant something more by it, but I shoved the thought down. 

--

I could feel his eyes burning a hole through me and several times, I almost turned around. I almost said something. But I remembered what I was trying to do, and I remembered the way he didn’t say anything to stop me when I did it and the hurt came back all over again.

Sweet Pea hissed my name from behind and I stared straight ahead, blatantly ignoring him. The teacher gave him a dirty look and he went quiet after that. Despite my resolve not to, I found myself turning around now and then, watching him when he wasn’t looking.

But I can’t keep letting myself be a doormat. I have to stand my ground. Even if this is killing me. Even if it’s the last thing I want to do. 

Bearing that in mind, for the rest of the week, I went above and beyond to either avoid Sweet Pea or make sure I was never alone in the hallway or after class so he couldn’t find me or talk to me. I made myself scarce. I bottled everything up and I shoved it all down. And I thought I was doing a pretty damn good job at it too...

--

“You! Explain yourself right now.” Cheryl and Toni stormed into Pop’s and glared at Sweet Pea angrily as they stood by the booth he sat in by himself.

“Hey to you too, Blossom.” Sweet Pea grumbled, not even bothering to look up from the barely touched plate of food sitting on the booth in front of him. He growled quietly when Cheryl and Toni took it upon themselves to sit down in the other side of the booth without bothering to ask.

“Obviously, you two are gonna say something, so just say it and go. Kind of not in the mood.” Sweet Pea spoke up as he stared out the window, into the parking lot. 

“What kind of idiot are you?” Toni asked, shaking her head as she reached across the table, taking some of Sweet Pea’s french fries and eating them herself. He gave her a dirty look but she shrugged, wiping away ketchup from the corners of her mouth before repeating herself. “I repeat, Pea… what kind of an idiot are you?”

“A pretty big one, if you want my opinion, lover.” Cheryl answered Toni’s question before Sweet Pea could say anything.

“Can you two stop dancing around whatever this is and say it?”

“We heard about what happened with you and Alyssa. Are you seriously going to sit here and do nothing? She said she loved you, Pea. What? That’s just not good enough?”

“I know what she said.” Sweet Pea barked the statement, making both girls share a look. After quiet whispering, the two looked at him again, determined. “It was, okay? I just..” he trailed off, swearing under his breath and shaking his head as the two of them shared a look and then directed their gaze to him in unison.

 “What?” Sweet Pea grumbled, taking a sip of the soda on the table beside him.

“You’re going to fix this, you giant idiot. You have to fix it. I can’t have one of my Vixens going around all mopey or even worse, missing Homecoming festivities entirely. Need I remind you, we Vixens have a strong reputation in this school? And if one of us is lacking spirit, it makes us all look bad.”

Sweet Pea laughed. The laughter died away when he realized that they were being serious. “That’s what this is about? Your stupid cheerleading shit? You do realize I can’t fix it, right? Do you not think I’ve tried, Blossom?”

“Try harder, you big oaf.” Cheryl leaned in slightly, glaring at Sweet Pea in frustration. She added as an afterthought, “ I hate seeing her like this, okay? She’s a sweet girl and honestly, it kills me. I need her happy and bubbly. You broke my Vixen, you fix her now.” 

“Don’t hold your breath, Blossom.” Sweet Pea shrugged, his shoulders sagging as he went back to staring down at mostly untouched food. Toni eyed him and spoke up.

“Wow. I have never seen you just sit and pick at your food, Pea. This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Gee… whatever gave you that idea, Topaz?” Sweet Pea snorted sarcastically, giving an eye roll as he shifted around in his seat, eyeing the door. All he wanted to do was escape right now. Because the more they said, the more it made him replay that day over and over again.

And it hurt like hell. It only made him angry at himself all over again.

“You know, you’re a stubborn ass, right? You could fix this if you really wanted to. But I guess you don’t. So I guess she’ll just wind up moving on and you’ll go back to being the miserable man-bitch we all know and love yet want to strangle.”

Toni smirked as her words hit their mark and the two of them stood, walking out of Pops, leaving Sweet Pea to stew in Toni’s parting remark. And it took hold, rooting itself in his mind.

That’s the one thing about friends who are like family. They always know where to hit at to illicit an actual reaction.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Sweet Pea stood, tossing his half eaten food and the empty soda into a bin and he strode out the door into the parking lot.

He happened to look across the parking lot, spot her getting out of the truck with her father, Fred.

He called her name and for once, she looked back. The hurt look in her eyes and the sad shake of her head was what really got him. He couldn’t have felt worse if he tried. He stood there, watching her walk into Pop’s with her father and in that moment, he made up his mind.

One way or another, even if it took a long time, he was going to fight. He couldn’t just give up. He couldn’t let her slip through his fingers.

--

My father cleared his throat from the seat across the booth. “Everything okay, shortcake?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s all good.”

“Well then what was all that outside?”

“What?” I asked the question, tensing a little. Sometimes, having such a perceptive father isn’t really a great thing. Especially when I don’t really… like acknowledging pain. Or dealing with it. I mean, my whole idea of dealing with the situation with Sweet Pea has been to just pretend I’m okay, but to go above and beyond to avoid him. 

“You know what I’m talkin about. The kid called your name and you gave him that look. The one you always gave Archie when you were little and Archie wouldn’t let you tag along to play.”

I plastered on my best convincing face and shook my head, taking a noisy sip of my chocolate milkshake. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, dad. He’s in my class. He was just saying hey.”

“It sounded like he was trying to talk to you.” my father pointed out and I bit my lip, glancing over at him. “Yeah, well.. If he wanted to talk, he should’ve done it earlier. At school. I’m starving. Can we order now?”

My father chuckled and for a few seconds, he eyed me as if he wanted to ask more questions. Thankfully, he let it go. “Yeah. What do you want? I think I’m gonna get my usual.”

“I think I’m going to try your usual, actually.”

“That’s a lot of burger, kid.” my father laughed.

I shrugged and did my best to laugh. As I happened to look over at the window, I did so just in time to see Sweet Pea’s truck pulling out of the parking lot. For a second or two, I wondered what he might have said if I’d walked over.

But I quickly shoved that out of my head.

-- LE TIME SKIPPE.

Cheryl spotted me making my way into the gym. “You came!” she pulled me into a hug and I nodded, shrugging. My eyes roamed around the gym and I swallowed hard, stomach sinking just a little when I saw no sign of Sweet Pea anywhere.

,, did you really think he’d show, Alyssa?” - the thought had me frowning a little, but I quickly plastered on my best attempt at a bright smile when we pulled back from the little hug. Cheryl smiled. “I love the dress. Let’s see if we can’t get you circulating…”

“Actually, I’m just gonna go get some punch? Maybe observe until they play a song worth dancing to?” I bit my lip as I said it and Cheryl eyed me a second or two, before finally giving a nod under Toni’s gaze.

If not for Toni, I have no idea Cheryl would’ve ignored me and gone ahead, doing what she wanted. It used to annoy the hell out of me when we were all kids, but now, I kind of see it as her, trying to show that she really does care.

And she’s been a lot more help than she realizes since things with Sweet Pea crashed and burned so badly. She hasn’t really… let me mope a lot. I’ve wanted to, but she and Toni always find a way to manage keeping me from it.

I made my way over to the punch bowl and the refreshments table and I turned around, my back to the crowd as I scooped punch into my cup, grumbling to myself as soon as I felt the burn of alcohol as it crawled down my throat and into my stomach. “Figures. Somebody would have to spike the punch.” I mused to myself as I sipped from the cup and momentarily toyed with the idea of just grabbing the entire chocolate cake on the table and a plastic fork, disappearing for the alcove beneath the stairs on the freshman wing.

But I told myself that I was coming tonight. I’m trying to get over him. And damn it, I’m determined to fake it til I make it.

“Wanna dance, angel?” Reggie leaned against me from behind, muttering the words quietly against my ear. I bit my lip, trying to brainstorm the best way to politely turn him down.

There’s only one guy I want to dance with, but apparently, I’m not and will never be good enough.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, frustrated with myself.

I was about to turn around and accept Reggie’s offer  when I heard Sweet Pea speaking up from behind Reggie. “Beat it, Dog.”

“How about you fuck outta here, Serpent?” Reggie gave Sweet Pea a dirty look. 

I stood there, eyes darting from one to the other, both of them tensed and squared up, ready to go in the snap of a finger.

“Guys, no.” I spoke up, warning tone as my hand rested against my hip. “You’re not about to start this shit.”

“He started it.” both responded, glaring at the other. I rolled my eyes and tried to make  it a point to avoid Sweet Pea’s intent gaze. The way deep brown eyes roamed over every single inch of my body, lingering just enough to make my breath catch in my throat. In the end, I just couldn’t though, and I found myself getting sucked into his gaze.

I sighed quietly and managed to tear my eyes off the way he looked in a borrowed suit, the tie undone at his neck, even though the sight of him had my knees utterly weak. I focused on Reggie instead and plastered on a smile, nodding to the dance floor.

“Didn’t you ask me to dance, Reg?” I asked, stepping away from Sweet Pea and a little closer to Reggie. He held out his arm and I looped mine through, letting him lead me out onto the dance floor.

I didn’t dare look back at Sweet Pea. I didn’t have to. I could feel his eyes penetrating me, I could feel his gaze shift to Reggie and I, despite Reggie moving us towards other parts of the gym floor several times during the dance we shared. At one point, he chuckled against my ear as I grinded against him, hips swaying in time to the song playing, “If looks could kill right now, huh?”

I swallowed hard, catching eyes with Sweet Pea. He was leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. If he glared any harder at Reggie, Reggie would drop dead on the spot. I did my best to look like I was having the time of my life and finally, the song came to an end. Reggie chuckled and dragged his fingers through his hair as he winked at me and told me he’d find me later on tonight, maybe we’d dance again.

I nodded, even though I had every intention of disappearing long before that happened. I was heading back towards the punch bowl for another cup of punch when I felt arms wrap around my waist and I found myself body to body with Sweet Pea.

“That fuckin guy?” Sweet Pea nodded to Reggie, who was already dancing with another girl. I bit my lip and stepped back a little when Sweet Pea moved closer, towering over me.

“He asked me to dance. Seeing as how I’m here alone tonight, all dressed up, I didn’t see the harm.”

“You didn’t see the harm.” Sweet Pea was doing his best at keeping a calm tone, but I could see the exact second his fists clenched at his sides and I could hear it in the way he exhaled. What I didn’t understand was why exactly he was so jealous.

“No. I didn’t.” I swallowed hard as he stepped closer. His hand ghosted my side, fingertips digging in ever so slightly when they stilled on my hip. He leaned down just a little and muttered quietly, calmly, “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you, princess.” using my moment of confusion to pull me closer, pressing me against him. The way he said it had my heart fluttering a little and I barely managed not whimpering at the look in his eyes when mine met his after a few seconds.

I tried to keep some distance between us, attempting to pull back a little even though that was the absolute last thing I wanted to do. I was trying to keep my defenses up. However, he seemed to pick right up on it and something softened in his eyes as he tried again, pulling me close all over again, arms around my waist. 

I couldn’t formulate words or string a single coherent thought together and it was a damn shame because there was so much I wanted to say to him. To yell at him. He’d hurt me and honestly, I just wanted to let him have it.

Instead, I sighed and melted into his arms a little, my hand raising and catching in the collar of his borrowed suit. His mouth grazed right against the shell of my ear and he muttered huskily against, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” before tilting my chin so that I had to look up at him. I gulped, taking a deep breath.

“You really hurt me. I mean, you really, really hurt me.” I pouted a little, at least making a valiant effort to stand my ground and make him own up to his part in the way things played out almost two weeks ago. He flinched, his hand leaving my hip and raising to rake hair back out of my eyes as he continued to stare down at me intently, lost in thought. I took a deep breath and continued, “I should just walk away. Right now.”

“Princess, don’t.” Sweet Pea spoke up quietly with his tone torn between firmness and fear, leaning his forehead down, resting it against mine. Somebody got the DJ to play Love Me Like You Do and for a second, I heavily considered it, just walking off the dance floor and maybe even leaving the dance altogether.

Instead, I took a deep breath and met his gaze, eyeing him expectantly. “Do you have nothing at all to say for yourself, Sweet Pea?”

“Oh, I got plenty to say, princess. I’m just not saying it here, in front of everyone.” Sweet Pea muttered the words quietly, his lips brushing right up against mine as he spoke. I sucked in a sharp breath but I also pouted again, tensing against him a little, because obviously, that was the entirety of our problem to start with. I knew how he felt, hypothetically, I never really doubted it until that last day I talked to him, when he didn’t try to stop me, when he didn’t come after me and trust me enough not to hurt him like he’d already been hurt to let it all go. I did manage to step back just a little, putting space between us and I shook my head. “Wrong answer, Sweet Pea.”

He swallowed hard, looking around.

I bit my lip, shuffling my feet against the gym floor. I didn’t want to do this, but I also didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to risk anything until I knew that this time, things were going to be a little different.

If not, I couldn’t just stick around and keep waiting, no matter how much I wanted to. What if he was never ready to let me in?

“What do you want me to say? I love you? Fine. I love you.” Sweet Pea was stepping closer all over again, hands firmly planted on my hips this time to hold me in place. At first, I thought about bolting because I wasn’t entirely sure whether he was just saying it now to get me to stay or whether he meant it, but then I looked up and my eyes actually met his.

“I love you and this whole thing is driving me fucking insane, princess.” he pulled me completely against him this time, staring down at me almost hungrily. He grumbled and rolled his shoulders making muscular arms strain against the ill fitting suit and I found my eyes fixated on that, distracted. 

“I see you checking me out, princess. Is there something you want? Just tell me and it’s yours, I promise.” the question was posed with that trademark cocky smirk and I gulped, locking eyes with him. Seconds felt stretched into hours and neither of us said anything, we just stared. At least until I felt his hands wandering all over me as we danced. He leaned in closer, a hand leaving where it rested against my ass to raise to my cheek, gripping, guiding my mouth straight to his own. 

My back hit one of the gym walls softly and I found myself pressed right up against it, his hand lowering from where it rested on my cheek to roam all over my body as his mouth devoured mine hungrily. I could feel my lips starting to bruise and swell and when his teeth sank into my bottom one, tugging at it, I whimpered and raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck, only after I dragged my fingers over his scalp. His other hand tangled in my hair, using his grip to pull my lips into the kiss even deeper still. By this point, we were both gasping for breath, panting heavily and a whimper bubbled out of my throat when he bucked himself against me and growled into the kiss quietly just before it broke, both of us pulling away, wide-eye and trying desperately to catch our breath.

“I asked you a question. Is there anything you want right now, princess?” his voice was a low rumble when he spoke and the way he towered over me, staring down, with an arm raised and his palm flat against the wall I was pressed up against had me leaning against him heavily, all the bones pretty much leaving my legs and reducing them to gelatin just a little more with each little touch, with each on purpose graze of his mouth against my ear or my neck, even the front of my throat. I finally managed to rub against him a little and he growled quietly, biting his bottom lip as he looked down at me, the lust burning bright in his eyes. 

The music changed to a slower song and I shivered at the way he rubbed himself against me, the way he strained against the suit pants making me bite my lip and cling to him, rubbing against him right back. I was grateful for the fact that we were in the back of the gym and nobody was really paying us any attention, because I’d never really danced this dirty with anyone before.

The next thing I knew, I was being scooped up into his arms and carried out of the gym. I clung to him, my lips grazing up and down the side of his neck, little whimpers as he whispered things to me while carrying me out of the dance.

He unlocked his truck, opening the passenger door and sitting me in the seat, stepping between my legs as his hands wandered up and down my sides, then over my thighs. My head fell back and I licked my lips, earning me a growl and him leaning in against me heavily to whisper against the shell of my ear, “You know what that does to me, princess.”

“No, I actually don’t. I didn’t, I mean.” I managed to gasp out in a shaky breath against his ear as my hands wandered down the front of the button up top, unable to still, touching him in any way I could. My legs wrapped around his hips and squeezed against, my heels digging into his ass to pull him against me even more. It ended up leaning me back against the seat a little and Sweet Pea followed me down, his lips ghosting down the front of my throat, littering soft skin with bites and marks.

“We’re leaving, princess… If that’s okay with you.” he managed to gasp out the question when he pulled himself away from my neck and throat, catching his breath as he stared down at me, almost anxiously. It was a switch from the way he usually carried himself, so cocky and self-assured at all times. It let me know just how much I’d truly gotten to him.

“Mhm.” I purred against his neck after I’d melted into him again, muttering a few seconds later, “I like you this close to me. You’re warm.” and batting my lashes, making him growl quietly when the movement tickled his skin. His fingers dug into my body even more, squeezing as if he were trying desperately to hang onto any shred of self-control he might have left. 

“This isn’t getting us outta here, princess.” he gave a low and dark chuckle against my mouth as he zeroed in on it again, another bruising and deep kiss that left my lips swollen and achy. I whimpered, almost needy as he stepped away, tucked my legs into his truck and shut the passenger door firmly. He jogged around to the driver seat and got in, wasting no time in cranking the truck and spinning out of the parking lot and onto the street that ran right past it.

His hand left the steering wheel, moving slowly up and down my thigh, making me whimper and squirm as he nodded to the space next to him in the middle of the bench seat. “C’mon, princess. Get closer.”

I moved closer, leaning against his side and my breath caught in my throat when I felt his hand venture up my dress, rubbing me through the pink satin beneath it. He leaned in a little at the one redlight in town and muttered almost cocky against my ear, “Princess, you’re dripping.” and bit his lip as he pulled away, turning his attention back to the road in front of us as the light went green. The more he rubbed, the more I rocked myself against his hand, making him chuckle quietly. “Good girl. Such a good girl. Just a few more minutes, okay? And then, if you let me, I’m gonna take real good care of you. I mean that, princess.” 

My head fell back against the seat with a soft thud and I whimpered as I rocked myself against his hand even more after he started to rub harder, faster. “Sweet Pea.” I choked out, panting heavily, “Don’t stop. Feels so good.”

The truck pulled to a stop and he killed the engine, wrangling me into his lap, making me pout because he’d taken his hand away. His lips were all over my face and neck until I couldn’t take it anymore and I was literally dying to be kissed again, my hands resting against his cheeks and pulling his mouth against mine greedily.

He bucked himself into me from below and as I rocked myself back and forth in his lap, his fingers dug into my sides, pressing me down harder. “Fuck. I can feel you dripping, princess. This feel good?”

“Yes. So good.” I gasped as I buried my lips in his neck, leaving a mark of my own behind, making him groan and buck into me harder, holding my hips still so that he had control over the friction as he looked me up and down, almost as if he were sizing up mentally just how long it would take to strip me down.

He stepped out of his truck, not bothering to put me down, carrying me up the steps and into his trailer, the door shut and locked behind us. My back pressed into it as his hand made it’s way back up my dress and he bucked against me, rubbing his hand harder against soaked pink satin. 

“Sweet Pea.” I moaned out, shattering the silence in the trailer. “Yeah, baby girl?” he breathed against my ear, his fingers trailing a line straight up my slit after slipping into my panties. “Now. Need you now.” I nipped at his neck as I raised one of my legs to his waist, trying to keep myself steady.

“Now, hmm? If that’s what you want, princess.” he broke the kiss and pulled back, searching my eyes, almost as if he were making sure that I wanted to go this far. I licked my lips and whimpered, rocking myself against his hand all over again, begging for it breathlessly until he pulled me up his body and carried me over to the mattresses he slept on, my back hitting them softly as he sank down, sitting next to me. I climbed into his lap, my fingers pulling at the buttons on his shirt after I’d managed to tug down the jacket of the suit, letting it fall to the bed. His hands disappeared up my dress, fingers catching in the waistband of my panties, tearing them away with a quiet rip and tossing them onto the floor by the bed. He laid me back, positioning himself over me, pressing himself down into me and his mouth rolled over my neck, leaving more bitemarks and little nips behind, smirking against my skin as he did so.

“Everybody’s gonna know you’re mine, princess. You sure you’re okay with that?” his voice was husky, laced with sex and want, almost raw and primal as his lips brushed against my ear and he rocked himself against me. I got my hands free from where they’d been caught and immediately, I went for the button and zipper on his pants, tugging pants and boxers down at the same time. They pooled at his feet as he stood up and he kicked them free, sending them skidding quietly out into the middle of the floor before turning his attention to the little tray table at the head of the bed, digging around on top of it, coming up with a condom in his grip. 

He pulled himself away from me, because he’d been pressed against me again, tearing the wrapper with his teeth and spitting the foil onto the floor after he’d torn the packaging.As he prepared to put it on, I gently pushed his hand away, gazing up at him as my hand circled his cock, working the rubber sheath down in place over it. He growled, bucking himself into my hand and almost the second it was fully on, he had me on my back again, lowering himself down over me.

My legs wrapped around him and he rose up, his hand circling his thick member, guiding it right over my slit, making me gasp as he stared down at me and bit his lip, leaning down just a little to murmur against my ear, “Don’t let me hurt you, princess.”

I hissed as I felt the tip slowly slip in and my nails dug into his shoulders as I tensed all over. He went still, staring down at me, kissing me all over my face before zeroing into my mouth again, but not until I begged for it first.

He started to fuck into me slowly as I began to relax, and I rocked my hips up to meet each thrust, the tips of my fingers gripping at his shoulders a little harder with each one. “You feel so so good, princess. So good. You’re okay, right?”

“Feels good.” I gasped, my eyes fluttering open and shut as I started to feel myself tensing, this slow and lazy heat settling in my core. I could feel myself dripping, and the soft smack of our bodies with every single thrust echoed off the walls of the trailer. He slowed to a stop again, muttering against my lips in a daze, “Gotta slow down, princess. I wanna take my time with you.” and I nodded. I wasn’t really in a hurry to get home, my father told Archie and I we could be out late tonight because of the dance.

Honestly, I’d told him I’d probably just stay over at Cheryl’s or something and he’d been okay with it.

The prospect of having a whole night alone with Sweet Pea was exciting. 

His thrusts sped up a little and when I raised my arms to wrap them around his neck again, he chuckled, smiling down at me, a softer version of his usual cocky smirk. “You feel so good, princess. You’re takin me so well. C’mon, move your hips, baby girl. That’s it.” he groaned out against my ear as he started to slam into me harder, more erratically. 

By now, that slow and lazy heat in my core had turned into a dull throb and I moaned out, rocking my hips to meet his thrusts with more urgency because I could feel myself getting closer and closer with each stroke. He growled and gripped at my hips, trying to hold me still and stay in control, chuckling against my ear almost teasingly, “You gonna come for me?”

“So.. so close.. Don’t stop.” I begged over and over as his thrusts got deeper, rougher, and his fingers dug into my hips, the smack of his body against mine almost in competition to overcome the sound of our combined moans and groans and the soft sucks and slurps every single time his mouth conquered mine. He licked his lips and his jaw clenched, I got the feeling he was holding back and holding off and I dug my heels into his ass, driving him even deeper inside. He groaned against my skin, “Fuck. C’mon, princess. Let go.” as my orgasm shattered through and it pushed him over the edge too, his cock pulsing, my walls vising tight around it as we clung to each other and tried to catch our breath.

After peppering my face and neck and collarbone with kisses, he flopped onto the mattress next to me, rolling onto his side, trailing those thick fingertips slowly over my bare skin as he stared down at me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We’re okay.” I yawned out, rolling onto my side to face him, slipping my leg over his hip. He raised his hand, gliding it slowly over my thigh, gingerly trailing his fingertips over a few light bruises his hands and fingers left behind on my body. 

“You sleepy, baby girl?” he laughed, teasing me a little as my eyes started to get heavy... 

#sweet pea fanfic #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea fic #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea smut #sweet pea oneshot #// four seasons of sm*t self challenge #//fourseasonsofsm*tselfchallenge #// forgive the overkill of plot and the fact that yes.. a bitch is indeed rusty at smut writing. #// i am lowkey happy with this.

[freevoidman]

Okay I’m reading through Porg’s update so some of y’all can save your braincells and here are some great highlights (under a readmore bc i couldn’t help but tear into a few things she suggested):

Flat out ignoring that Vergil had changed by the end of the game as a result of V and Urizen’s separate experiences.

In trying to make V and Urizen their own character, she throws out the idea of Vergil being manipulated by the Qliphoth/Urizen (??? somehow??? even though the tree is implied to be non-sentient i believe???), with V being a Devil hunter looking through the remains of Mallet Island (which was completely blown up, turned to rubble, and then swallowed by the sea, so... that can’t happen), finding the cane which makes him youthful and not sick but... having the cane makes it so he can only kill demons through the cane??? for some reason??? And he needs the Qliphoth fruit to heal himself and free him from the curse???

How did she make V’s backstory even more confusing and complicated how the fuck did she do that

Almost immediately after bringing up the cane, she instead changes it to be one of the rings he’s wearing because she wants her “precious V” to use weapons other than the cane, which makes all the prior paragraphs about the cane’s curse and only using it pointless. She’s the one writing this fic, why can’t she edit her own work so it’s more cohesive?

Despite saying that V should be a Devil Hunter, she doesn’t explain why someone who is supposed to be killing demons would form a pact with at least three to fight demons. Her rewrite dismisses Visions of V, and she even states later that the manga is a waste of time as it won’t ever be translated into English (which 1) is not a limiting factor to reading it as many people have translated it already and 2) doesn’t dismiss it’s value at building up V’s character, who she supposedly likes the best).

Also, for someone who complains about DMC5 being a rehash of DMC3, she’s sure doing her best to change it to a rehash of DMC1 (Vergil being controlled by an outside force, bringing back Mallet Island, bringing back Mundus [the cane is supposed to be tied to Mundus]).

V apparently can’t be human because she wants to give him a devil trigger, despite having 3 familiars and his own strength. Okay I guess?

Also it’s really fucking sick how she describes V changing, because it’s apparently V fusing with Nightmare? Devil May Cry has never been one for body horror but she straight up says she was inspired by “The Thing (1982), The Fly (1986), Bloodborne, and Resident Evil 7″ for the transformation imagery and I wanted to nope the fuck out of there real quick.

Her segments of actual fiction writing and dialogue are really bad it’s almost like a parody Youtube skit.

She switches between prose and script writing randomly, it’s really odd. She does it primarily with Dante i’ve noticed? Here’s an example I wrote of what she does:

“Hey, don’t stress out about it will you?” Says John following a few steps behind VINCENT: Don’t get your panties in a twist

And that just happens... randomly? Like, there’s no indication why she’s doing that it just happens.

She straight up writes notes in her fic about the controls for character actions in-game what the hell--

She also shamelessly puts in a link to artwork that clearly isn’t her’s (and I highly doubt she got permission to post about) to try and show what V’s Devil Trigger would look like. I couldn’t find it because I don’t know how pixiv works, but that’s just a shitty move, especially with how she treats artists on tumblr when they draw art of Vergil.

EDIT: Porg has now straight up copy-pasted the art into her fic without the artist’s permission which is, we all know, fucking theft. While it is good artistry, is just a weird mashup of Vergil’s and Dante’s. It’s not all that unique and I don’t understand why she had to reference a bunch of body horror shit when all the Devil Triggers in game are essentially just a large flash of light and a seamless transition between forms??? It’s good art, I’m not trying to bash the artist, but... Porg, you could’ve been a little more original here rather than just ripping off another artist’s designs...

Everyone in her fic acts super casually to seeing Vergil alive in the Qliphoth and it’s like... honey, no.

Vergil acts WILDLY out of character holy fuck. Like, I know I should have expected that but this is NOT how Vergil would act in the slightest. She’s pretty much writing an OC.

Building off of this: EVERYONE acts OOC and... it’s not exactly cringey, but it is perfect proof that Porg doesn’t know what she’s doing and hasn’t properly analyzed the characters.

Dante acts weirdly... detached? There’s no sign of him acting like his normal goofball-y self, and he’s much more serious than normal. He actually acts more like cannon Vergil than himself, actually. (He also knows CPR apparently? Which... is a skill he would really never bother learning, so...)

Nero doesn’t act nearly as emotional, and acts calmly for some reason. You can’t feel any of his emotions behind his dialogue, only through the adverbs added to the tags)

V is too informative. He knows way too much about random shit that... no one should rightfully know. I’ll mention it more later, but... V doesn’t act like himself and I don’t really know how to explain it.

Vergil is essentially her OC. Seriously--he’s not as brooding or snarky, he’s far too open and apologetic, there’s practically no sense of rivalry between him and Dante. Weirdly, he acts more like canon V than fic!V does, despite the fact that Porg wants to establish V and Vergil and separate characters. His actions also make no sense when put alongside his canon personality. We aren’t reading anything about Vergil, we’re reading about Porg’s weirdly idealized version of him.

I’m going to make a break in the post here because I feel like this is the part that needs the most attention:

Porg goes OUT OF HER WAY to dedicate a GIANT portion of this chapter to her own OC: Nero’s mom. There are several long paragraphs of establishing the relationship between her OC and Vergil, talking about leaving Fortuna, how they were ‘happy’ and then saying that after a hurricane (inspired by hurricane hugo, you’ll see later) she got separated from Vergil, never reconnected with him, GAVE BIRTH, died from a demon attack with Nero staying near her corpse, and then Nero was found by humans and taken off the mainland to be taken to an orphanage on Fortuna. She wanted a massive amount of time to be taken out of the fun parts of playing Devil May Cry to establish a relationship that would never come back and essentially turn into a 15 minute soap opera inserted into a game about having fun killing demons.

Alright back to the noted highlights.

Porg confirms in her fic that the universe of Devil May Cry happens in the US, and that Fortuna is an island along the southeast coast and I want to fucking rip my eyeballs out at this point.

The ONLY REASON why she is doing this is because she lives in Florida. I know she does, and she just wants to imply that this is all happening near her home turf. How anyone who lives in Florida thinks an island like Fortuna can exist is beyond me though, because playing through 4, most of the buildings are inspired by Italian designs, and no one in the states would build an entire island with italian designs. I’ve been to Florida multiple times--there’s no buildings there even REMOTELY designed to match Fortuna.

EDIT: I have been informed that Porg actually lives in Pennsylvania, not Florida, which makes both more and less sense. Why Florida? Why not a hidden island up on the east coast? Why does this have to be taking place in the states at all Porg???

Yeah, let’s take Nero off the MAINLAND OF FLORIDA after a DEVASTATING HURRICANE and send him to an orphanage on an ISLAND which would’ve been hit the hardest by ANY hurricane. TOTAL SENSE. 

She tries to make her own timeline for the series using actual real world dates and events and it’s terrible (she references Hurricane Hugo in 1989, and confidently states that 3 took place in 1990, despite all evidence for the actual dates of events being fan theory established through circumstantial evidence).

There’s so much horror movie inspiration here--not cheap horror, but really twisted shit that... doesn’t fit with Devil May Cry’s tone at all? In the slightest? She references Jacob’s Ladder, plus all the other body horror media I wrote above.

Straight up just tears Vergil’s arm off which sure, I guess we gotta make THAT a parallel between Nero and Vergil. They can have a father son moment over being physically maimed.

In the scene immediately before this, Urizen picks up Vergil by the head and roots around Vergil’s memories (somehow???) to show him all the ‘bad moments’ in his life to traumatize him. She describes it as the audience getting flashes of him falling to hell, charging Mundus, being Nelo Angelo, etc. 

This causes Vergil to cry and beg for Urizen to stop. Then Urizen rips off his arm. So. Yeah. Another point for the OOC!Vergil/OC-taking-Vergil’s-place board.

Also this point ALONE made me realize that Porg does not know how much time, effort, and money needs to be put into making assets. Like, the entire fic she was stressing that everything be done in 5′s HD Graphics--including the ruins of Mallet Island, so I have to assume she’d want these little snippets in HD too, which would be a massive money hole creating these assets for one scene that lasts maybe ten seconds total.

I know I stated it in one of my earlier posts, but most of what she’s writing would fit better with a sequel for the reboot series, not DMC5. It would make her OOC writing of Vergil make sense, all the horror movie inspiration and body horror shit would fit better there, especially all the crappy dialogue too.

She somehow made Griffon even MORE annoying than in cannon.

BTW if I had to listen to poetry while fighting the final boss of a video game, I’d sooner turn my PS4 off. Not that poetry isn’t cool and all, but it cheapens the final fight and distracts you. It wouldn’t work.

EDIT: I realized this point made no sense without context, sorry. Porg made the Book of Urizen (the poetry book by William Blake referenced multiple times by V) either weirdly prophetic or made it out like Blake had inner knowledge of demon powers or... something along those lines, and V magically has the knowledge that reciting poetry from the book about Urizen will... harm him? Weaken him? Open a gate to hell (she mentions a portal appearing near him)? It’s very unclear, but she essentially rewrites Urizen as the final boss, and makes it three stages (V [Griffon recites some verses, which is what the first point was about], Vergil and Dante [this is where Vergil gets his arm ripped off btw], and then Nero) with all three of them reading poetry from the book to deal the “final blow” to Urizen. I’d much rather have Vergil be the final boss than have to go through a three-stage boss fight while every character I play as recites poetry to kill the boss.

She mentions Dante using Sin DT against Urizen but I’m pretty sure with her fuckery of the game’s events Dante can’t GET Sin DT? Because there’s no fight between Nero and Urizen where he’d intervene?

COMPLETELY IGNORES VERGIL’S DEVELOPMENT OF WANTING TO TRAVEL WITH HIS BROTHER THROUGH HELL TO ELIMINATE THE QLIPHOTH FUCK OFF.

Also she changed the lore of the Qliphoth so that it sprouts semi-naturally around every 500 or so years? So... shouldn’t leaving the Qliphoth roots be fine now? Since it’s natural?

Nico acts like growing back arms is totally normal

Wrote an INCREDIBLY shoe-horned in moment in the van with Dante filling Trish and Lady in about finding Vergil and everything that happened where, once again, Trish and Lady act almost completely nonplussed that Vergil is alive after 20+ years in hell, with about 9 of those ten years being trapped under Mundus’ control and corrupted by the Demon King

Seriously why is no one surprised in this fic that Vergil survived? Dante has a brief moment before finding him, but everyone finds out and accepts it like flipping a switch (once again--ESPECIALLY DANTE, which is NOT how the grieving process works)

Porg states that the ending is trash because the twins are fighting in hell, but completely ignores that most of Dante and Vergil’s lives have been built on conflict and they like fighting demons, especially Dante. Both of them were happy and doing what they love.

She also completely ignores through this entire thing that Dante was really fucking depressed in the novels leading up to 5 but hey I don’t even know if she can read.

I can vaguely agree that Trish and Lady were sidelined and they should’ve had a bigger role. However, I can’t fault the directors for not doing this, because they were already developing three playable characters with their own unique fighting styles. She writes all this shit about the story, writes notes about controls and mission layouts, but forgets that it takes a lot more than pressing a single button to code a game.

She just doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Seriously, none of these things are cohesive or edited properly, and despite her saying she wanted better for Vergil, or Nero, or Dante, or V, she writes all of them incredibly out of character and doing illogical actions. I just... I don’t get it.

The best part is--I can’t even tell her about these things, or give constructive criticism. She moderates the comments on her fic and isn’t afraid to delete anything she doesn’t agree with or can’t make a ‘passionate rant’ about.

#devil may cry #derelict-stranger #thephantomporg84 #i'm doing y'all a favor here

[elenatria]

How to turn a London Con trip into a “Chernobyl” trip.

I’m home so I can finally make this post.

Where to start.

Okay-

Let’s start with “Chernobyl”. It happened a few months ago, fell on our heads like a nuclear bomb. We all loved the protagonists but Viktor Charkov, the KGB chairman, is also a memorable, creepy, hateful character who got under our skin with the cold truth of his words, the harsh reality of his behaviour. He was too real, too pragmatic to be ignored. From stories I’ve been told in person, he’s no different than the executive arms of tyrants we had here not more than forty years ago. He exists. People like him live among us.

As for the actor himself, so strange. See, there is no mention of Alan Williams’ age on IMDB or Wikipedia and that’s enough to show that, apart from his theatre, TV and film work, little is known about him. Where to find him, contact him, he’s too old to care about social media and apparently he never was too sought out, not with a “face like a bagful of donuts” as he jokes.

But I was thrilled. I wrote the first chapter of “A single bullet” after watching “Chernobyl” and I just had to show it to this elusive low-profile thespian who inspired me. Because... I don’t know, because. Just to say “Thanks for doing a magnificent job. Thanks for helping me understand evil.”

So I tried contacting his agent. I gave her my name and nationality. I thought I’d just send her the link and forget about it.

Apparently, she forgot about it too because I never heard from her.

After a month London Con was upon us, but what to do in the evenings? Plays of course. I booked a ticket for “The woman in black” and “The Hunt” with Tobias Menzies. Then I searched and searched for Alan Williams plays but, to my dismay, he had finished playing Ivan Romanovich Chebutykin in “Three sisters” at the beginning of June and his new play, “Faith, hope and charity”, wouldn’t premiere before September. Just my luck to be in London in between the two plays. No stage door queue, no autographs.

After spending a full Saturday at London Con and Sunday at the British Museum, Monday had to be a day of leisure. A free concert at St Martin-in-the-Fields before lunch was all I was capable of attending, drag my steps towards the closest bus stop that would drop me off… wherever. I didn’t care.

But then I decided to read my post from the previous day about managing to buy a ticket for “The girl on the train” at the very last minute and meeting Alex Ferns, the naked miner. The unexpected ticket, the unexpected hug.

Now how difficult would it be to meet an actor who is NOT doing a play at the moment?

Very very difficult, confirmed one voice.

He’s rehearsing for ‘Faith, hope and charity’, isn’t he? disagreed another. He must be. It’s almost August and the play opens in September. He’s at work right now. He must be!!!

I googled and googled for almost an hour. I found that “Faith, hope and charity” would be staged at the Dorfman theatre near Waterloo station so I called the stage door. I explained to the receptionist that I did not know Mr Williams in person but I was visiting London for only a few days, was a big fan of his work in “Chernobyl” and I would really love to greet him. The man on the phone was very helpful revealing that this was their first day of rehearsing (the incredible coincidence!) and they had started only… an hour ago. He asked my name and I said “Well… you can say Eleni”, I mean, who needs my complicated surname, right? The guy said he’d save my number and let Mr Williams know.

Oh god.

But I couldn’t just sit there waiting for a call, I’d never get that call, come on.

So I rushed to the Dorfman Theatre. I was breaking my brain trying to figure out how I could get the Charkov chapter of “A single bullet” printed in a district with no stationary shops whatsoever. I was hoping I could… shove it into his face I don’t know, and later imagine he’d be reading it. He didn’t really have to read it, just nod condescendingly and lie that he would, and that would be enough to put a smile on my face. Just like all those toys and drawings people give to celebs at cons that end up in the hands of volunteers, assistants or charities, if not in the trash.

When I got there I talked to a different receptionist, a very professional, very unhelpful young man. For safety reasons he wasn’t supposed to disclose neither the time they’d finish nor the time of recess. For safety reasons I had to go through Mr Williams’ agent to get to him. Outrageous, the woman didn’t even forward my story to him, let alone give me permission to meet him. I was hopeless, I was being turned down. I was being an idiot.

“But they must have a lunch break, right??” I insisted. “Can’t I just wait outside?”

That guy was a goddamn sphinx, and the helpful guy was still talking on the phone or to some lady there, I don’t remember, so I couldn’t reach out to him. Suddenly I felt unnecessarily needy as if I was sitting on the subway floor, shaking my hat to passers-by, clinging my few coins. How humiliating.

With heavy steps I exited the theatre. Why is it so complicated, why do I need someone else’s “permission”? I’m not a child. I looked around, it was a sunny day, people were sitting in coffee tables out in the patio. Some tables were empty but I didn’t care, I just sat on a column by the entrance, far enough to not be seen by the receptionists and feel like shit for lingering, close enough to catch anyone exiting.

For an hour and a half I crouched over my phone trying to figure out how to contact the agent without sounding too stalkery. I called the agency but the girl on the phone gave me the same email address where I had sent my fic. Fine. I changed the wording of my message again and again so as not to sound too needy or creepy even if I knew it wouldn’t work.

I knew I had missed my concert for no reason and I would soon have to leave because who doesn’t like giving up? It’s better to give up than stress over something that’s never gonna happen. It always is.

I was seconds away from clicking “send” and making a fool of myself to the agent for a second time when I thought I saw someone, a towering presence stopping a few meters away, looking over, hesitating, waiting.

I raised my head.

There he was, three-dimensional, bathed in sunlight. Not an image in my head anymore.

Believe me when I say that I was staring at Gandalf, Santa Claus, the Grail Knight from “Indiana Jones”, the Big Bad Wolf.

I honestly don’t know what I was staring at.

But there he was, in all his elderly silver-bearded glory. A myth in my mind, in the flesh. How did he know I was there? I didn’t tell anyone. I was supposed to be hiding.

After nanoseconds of deer-like stun I did the polite thing and jumped on my feet, ready for a handshake. I mean, I had to stand up, right? He had come out just for me.

Shit. What had I done? The nerve.

The first thing I remember noticing when I got closer were his faded blue eyes with a distinguishable light-shaded rim circling the iris. The rest was just word vomit, how we all love him on tumblr, write fics, make memes etc.

Memes?

I described to him the “Try me, bitch” edit we all love, courtesy of @two-screaming-rats.

He didn’t get it at first, then he laughed so HARD, so damn hard. You guys have to see Charkov laughing his heart out.

He said he only had a few minutes before he had to go back to the rehearsal so I decided to start the conversation with the Charkov fanfics. He was quick to apologize for not answering my email. “I’m sorry but… but I honestly don’t know what to say when someone sends me a story,” he admitted humbly. “I read all of them but… I mean I’ve been sent stories based on my characters before but I really wouldn’t know what to say.”

Okay first of all, he read my story. I don’t know if he read it a month ago when I sent it or minutes before he exited the theatre to greet me but he did.

Secondly, there are more stories about his characters? WHERE.

“I’m not a writer anyway,” I said apologetically.

The unexpected reassurance. “But you are.”

I guess one doesn’t have to be The Writer™, they just have to write. What a way to be courteous to a fan though.

Then I mentioned how we love Charkov’s trademark, his glasses, how we’re frantically looking for ‘80s-looking glasses, how we obsess over specific frames and brands.

“They’re not a brand,” he clarified, “they were specifically made for me, they’re an exact replica of Viktor Chebrikov’s glasses. Just like our clothes that were made by seamstresses who worked during that era.”

Naturally I praised the production’s attention to detail that has us ranting, how beautiful and “European” it all looked, how true the script was to Lyudmila’s story as it was described in Svetlana Alexievich’ “Chernobyl prayer”. I talked about my thoughts when I first heard there would be a “Chernobyl” TV series: the Americans made a TV show based on events that affected Europe, now that’s a new one. He mentioned Russian media admitting that they should have made that show, not the Americans. I agreed but also added “That’s the thing, it may be beautifully made, it may be the truth, but it’s still propaganda. Just because it’s true, just because the Soviet government did all those horrible things, that doesn’t mean that the show is not serving someone’s agenda.” He disagreed saying that the Soviet people were shown in a good light for their bravery and sacrifice. Well, we knew that, didn’t we.

I said how impressed I was by his portrayal of Charkov because we were told about people like him by dictatorship victims at school. People who had been tortured in the ‘70s came to us, talking about their time in underground cells, in the hands of sadists like Charkov. I told him about my uncle who was arrested and executed by the Nazis for distributing left-wing leaflets, about my grandmother who had to escape to the mountains during the civil war that followed the German occupation because she was a communist. I explained how real it felt to me, his last scene with Legasov in the kitchen. How bleak and horribly accurate.

He mentioned “You’re one of us, Legasov”. To him Charkov was just doing his job, working for the greater good and he agreed with the quote in my fic, that Charkov “couldn’t wait to retire”.

He then joked about Charkov being blasé after the committee meeting, “Meh, I’m done with arresting people, I let others do it for me”.

I assure you all those questions were answered in a couple of minutes, and I was certain our meeting was about to come to an end.

But then… he gestured toward an empty table.

Don’t let an aged man standing, was my spontaneous thought. I was reminded of my father.

Then I realized. He gestured toward an empty table.

Table. The two of us. On a sunny day.

Time, he was offering me his time.

And… oh my god, this was practically an interview, why was I not recording this, he was answering my questions so effortlessly.

No. That would be rude, that would be greedy.

Just relax and enjoy the moment and try to remember fucking everything.

I asked him what his inspiration for Charkov was, if he based his portrayal on other actors or historical figures. He paused to think and explained that the script was very strict anyway, very defined. However he did mention  Charkov’s line, “I know you’ve heard the stories about us. When I hear them, even I am shocked” and how that reflected Stalin’s hypocritical quote, “What do I know, I’m just a peasant”.

His favourite line was “Trust but verify, and the Americans think that Ronald Reagan thought that up”.

“Is that really an old Russian proverb…?” I wondered.

“I… don’t know!” he laughed.

During the rest of the conversation he mentioned his friend whose job was to translate the Pravda, and his years in Canada where he met Czech-Greeks, namely Greek communists who were driven away by our right-wing government after the Second World War. Even the Soviets didn’t want them so they were sent to the Czech Republic and ended up in Canada. These people belonged nowhere.

I didn’t know that, and he didn’t know about Vladimir Gubarev, the writer of the play “Sarcophagus” and science editor of the Pravda who was the recipient of Legasov’s tapes. I quoted him saying “Why call the protagonist Legasov since that’s not how Legasov was, they could have used a character who’s a scientist and give him any other name.” Like Ulana, I added, who’s a composite character, or Chebrikov/Charkov, mostly fictional.

Our conversation was coming to an end; he asked me what plays I saw in London and he smiled when I mentioned Alex Ferns in “The girl on the train”.

It was truly overwhelming; I was torn between being swept away by the moment, focusing on nothing but the faded blue of his eyes, bathing in the calm rhythm of his voice, and actually paying attention to what he was saying. Only once did my eyes dart at his left hand spotting the unusually thick golden ring on his finger. When one’s mind plays tricks the best way to discipline is a glimpse at The Ring because if he didn’t have nearly my father’s years I’d probably be having a horribly inappropriate crush.

“Time to go,” he apologized.

We took a couple of photos and I pulled out Svetlana Alexievich’ book, asking for an autograph.

“Where should I sign?” he asked.

“Wherever you want.”

He flipped through the pages noticing my page markers, notes and underlinings. “What are these for?”

“Just… just notes. Do you want my—” I suggested grabbing my big-ass permanent marker.

Without a word he gave a knowing smile and, like an experienced conjurer, he pulled out of his jacket an elegant little sharpie. Delicate pens for delicate words.

I didn’t dare read what he wrote to me then, I could only make out his name through that intelligible doctor-like writing. Surely my name wasn’t there because I hadn’t introduced myself. Still, I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

Time to go.

We shook hands and I said how honoured I was that he had spent time with me. I tried not to stare as he disappeared into the theatre but before I left I ran into the foyer, quickly thanked the receptionist to whom I had talked on the phone and stormed out of the building with that huge wave of adrenaline pumping violently in my ears.

As I crossed the street I was grinning like an idiot. I knew I had to stop right there and write down everything before I forgot - but it was pointless. I’m not a recorder to have to write down everything the minute it happens. It’s enough to remember the pale rimming of his eyes.

Now, two days after meeting him, I’m still torn between pride and embarrassment. What the hell was I thinking? Doesn’t a man deserve to work in peace?

But as I’m writing this and attaching his signature on the first page of “Chernobyl prayer” I dare for the first time read what he wrote to me.

Pleasure to meet you.

People say they have religious moments when meeting their favourite celebs.

Mine was poetic.

What a darling, darling man.

#chernobyl #alan williams #viktor charkov #vikor chebrikov #fan encounter #dorfman theatre #alex ferns #the girl on the train #london #kgb

[bookishnerdhero]

ROTBTD - OUAT AU Episode 2 (Part 5)

If you came here not having read the first Episode then you might want to check that one out first. Here’s the LINK to the very first post for this Fic. Otherwise this part is pretty confusing.

ROTBTD - The Big Four – OUAT AU

Present 

It was near the end of the lunch period when Principal Pitchiner asked to have a chat with Jack in his office. For a moment he’d grudgingly thought he was in trouble. Something to do with hanging out with Jamie despite his earlier threats, maybe. But what kind of bad influence could Jack have given him in a library? So it was a surprise to Jack when the first thing to come out of Pitchiner’s mouth was—

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Pitchiner’s expression seemed sincere and his hand was gesturing for Jack to take a seat. He even slid across a small bowl with mints in it to him.

Jack sat reluctantly.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did before, Mr. St. North. I hope you could forgive me.” The man massaged his temples as if he’d actually been plagued by some guilt. The way he spoke, as if he had a silver-tongue, it seemed hard not to see his words as reason. “It comes from a place of protectiveness for my son, you see. I misjudged you.”

“Hey, er, no harm done?”

He tried to offer the bowl of candy again and Jack took one just to be polite.

“You see, I’m afraid Jamie has this tendency to lie to people about his father as a form of rebellious phase.” As he spoke Pitchiner took a piece of candy as well and unwrapped it, fumbling with the wrapper as if bothered.

“The man abandoned Jamie at an orphanage when he was 6 years old and never came back. I’ve been taking him to see Doctor Way and he thinks he uses lying as a coping mechanism.”

Jack didn’t really know what to say, he suspected it was a mess based on what Jamie’s been telling him but he didn’t expect it to be this, well, sad. He didn’t expect he’d end up knowing more than he should either.  

“The way you look right now I take it you had no idea?”

“No. No, sir.”

“Funny, I thought the whole town knew. You know, the rumors here spread like wildfire. Especially since I’m the Principal. I’m always just doing everything I can to protect him.”

“I get it.” Jack nodded, hoping Pitchiner could detect his sincerity. “But I really had no idea.”

“I suspect he remembers only the good things. I was worried that being with you, and how you seem to indulge his childish fantasies might encourage him further,” the Principal replied, but his face no longer held the same judgmental look he had before. He even gave him the benefit of a small smile. “He seems affected because he claims you look like his father, did he mention something to you about that?”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up and he moved back in his seat. He didn’t know whether to be insulted or embarrassed by this.

“Well, it’s kind of how we met in the first place. But I didn’t actually think I did look like the guy. I thought we just had the same name, maybe, but he just kept saying I looked like Jack Frost. Or did he mean both? Come to think of it, it’s very confusing.”

“Jack Frost?”

“From…from the book? He has it with him all the time. That book of weird alternate fairytales.”

“Ah. I see,” Pitchiner said, but it wasn’t apparent whether he did know of it. It looked like he didn’t know much about it. “Again, I must apologize. Abandonment was hard on him.”

“You don’t mean to say his old man actually does look like those pictures of Jack Frost?

“I wouldn’t know. I never met him.”

The bell rang. Lunch period was over. Pitchiner took out a small pad of paper to write a quick excuse note.

“Hang on, he also said something about him ‘just finding out about him’ and that he’s supposed to be in town,” Jack added, “How could he know that?”

Pitchiner looks serious.

“He…must’ve heard a rumor. I’m going to have to look into it. My agreements with the orphanage is to never have them meet.”

He handed Jack the note.

“But, ah, thank you for letting me know.”

Jack lingered by the door. “I'm…really sorry, Mr. Pitchiner. For Jamie. He seems like a really good kid.”

“No. I should be the one saying sorry here. I shouldn’t have been so rude the other day. You couldn’t have known. I just…I thought everyone in this small town knew.”

“I’d be the last to know.”

“Yes. Well. If he ever comes to you about it again—“

“I won’t encourage it.”

And…I hope I never see the guy, Jack thought. He knew what it was like to feel like to feel like a part of your past is lost.

“Get back to class.”

***

 Hugo and Jack met in the hallway that afternoon.

“Surprised to find you’re still here,” Hugo greeted from his locker.

“Aster gave me detention.” Jack did a salute in the direction of the retreating figure of his History teacher. Few other kids exited detention with him.

“Here’s Jamie’s book, by the way. I don’t know where he lives.”

“Me neither, he just keeps popping up like the Easter Bunny wherever I look.”

“Easter Bunny?”

“Long story.”

“You’re referencing the book, I see.” Hugo fell into step with him and they made their way down the hall. “Speaking of long stories, I kind of get what he meant about the Jack Frost bit. He does kind of look like you.”

“You actually read the whole thing?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, it can be done.” Hugo grabbed the book from beneath Jack’s arm and skimmed quickly through the pages, slapping his hand on a particular illustration once he found it.

“White hair. Now I’m beginning to think dying my hair that color won’t be such a bad idea. Go Gerard Way in Black Parade?”

“The personality’s totally you too. All Mr. Fun times and no work and schedules.”

“You know your sarcasm really packs a punch.”

The illustration Hugo paused at happened to be a fairytale wedding scene and his gaze drifted from Jack Frost to the bride.

“Hey, who’s this?”

“It’s the Snow Queen. She marries Jack Frost. In this version of the fairytale, I mean. Coincidentally, they have a child named Jamie.”

“Hm.”

They were standing at the top of the staircase. Hugo looked sorry for the discovery.

“Maybe he is just looking for his real folks.”

Jack shrugged then nodded, patting Hugo at the back before heading down the stairs before him.

“It’s funny that he’d find out my name was Jack,” he called back, thoughtfully. “Didn’t think I was known.”

“It’s a small town. You may feel you’re invisible but people do know you.”

He waited for Hugo at the foot of the stairs. The other boy, one he was also beginning to think was a genuine friend, held up the book to him once again. Jack took it with a big grin on his face.

“I get what that’s like, but there are good days,” Hugo said.

Jack thought about Eva and the fact that she hinted noticing him and he didn’t even know it.

“Hey, Hugo, do you think there’s a possibility that my memories might still come back?” he said as Hugo walked on ahead to the double doors, boots making squeaky noises on unpolished floor.

“It’s not uncommon. So, yeah, of course.”

“What if…now I’m just throwing ideas out there.” Jack caught up to him by the door and they both pushed. “Jamie turns out to be an actual relative? Maybe I do look like his dad and that’s why he thought he was me.”

“I don’t know. The town would have to be smaller than I thought for that to happen.”

“Yeah, then again it couldn’t be. I was told the only family I had was the one I lost.”

Hugo patted his back.

 ***

 In a beautiful room filled with flowery paintings on the walls, a young girl was humming. She had short brown hair that seemed to have been cropped in a hasty decision. As she hummed she admired a particular lovely—and real—yellow flower sitting on a table by her window. The plant was lucky to her, for some reason, and she considered it her muse. She was opened up the window and carefully tossed her backpack onto the bushes, as quietly as she could make it.

“…and I’ll keep wondering. Wondering. Wondering. When will my life begin?” she sang softly, glancing at her closed bedroom door. The coast was clear.

“Rhiannon? I hope you did your homework!”

“I’m homeschooled, mother. It’s not like have anything else better to do,” she mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I mean, I’m currently doing it now! Please don’t disturb me! Thank you! Love you!”

She placed one leg out on the window ledge. “And not like I’d have a life if I stayed inside all the time.”

She snuck out and when she did the flower glowed brightly and then dimmed.

(END OF EPISODE)

Note: The next chapters will most likely be uploaded in excerpts here on Tumblr but linking to the AO3 fic! Please consider subscribing or leaving a comment! EDIT: I decided I will still continue to upload each episode in parts here. Since it honestly hasn’t been working very well for this fic in Wattpad, but it has readers here.

Episode 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Episode 2

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Tag List: @clubsodaandredtubes@rose-sparks13 @beautifulslimezonkpaper @rosesnvines@jewishicequeen @hiddenwriterspirit @shiroi-majo

Just let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged!

Thanks for reading!

#the big four ouat au #the big four #ouat au #mericcup #jelsa #jackunzel #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #fanfiction #fanfics

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 26 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So I was almost done editing this part in Tumblr earlier today and then my laptop, for some reason, decided to close the window, and of course I hadn’t saved it as a draft, so I lost everything I’d formatted! Including my many meticulous links for this chapter that has about 235453636 details! So, that was great!!! I had to start from scratch and find everything again (thank goddess for Google search history for once), and it took a really fucking long time--your encouraging comments for this part in particular would mean a lot because knowing anyone is actually reading will soften my deep frustration at spending literally my entire day on posting this chapter. I’ve said this before but this fic is primarily about two things: 1) big cosmic fucking love (emphasis on the FUCKING) and 2) CLOTHES, hence me elaborating on their outfits constantly ad nauseam, so if you’re ever wondering why I talk about their clothes so goddamn much, it’s because clothes are very erotic/important to me and they are a big part of the way I tell a story, especially this one. Kenzie manifests Telekinesis in this part. Oberon and Titania are the fabled King and Queen of the Fae, and the lines Duncan and Kenzie speak to each other are from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. Kenzie sings CRYSTAL to Duncan before they sleep--that song is very important to Duckenzie, and it will probably show up again before the end. Kenzie’s outfit in this part/part of the next: her wrap crop top, her cut-off shorts, her black bikini, her Vans. Other stuff she packs: the rust-colored mini dress, the pink rose mini-dress, the white mini-dress, the white crop top, the denim shortalls, her Timberland boots, her boot sandals, the black dress with the buckle, the gray cardigan, the gray long-sleeved top, the long linen dress with roses. I can’t find the original sunflower-colored maxi dress I based hers on now; it was sort of like this but with short sleeves. Duncan’s outfit in this part: his button-down, his jersey shorts, his Suede Pumas. Other stuff he packs: the navy flannel, the other button-down, the Nike club hoodie, the zip-up hoodie, chino shorts, tee shirts, relaxed chinos, Nike hiking boots, fitted chinos, the feather shirt Kenzie likes, his black swim trunks. My Duncan doesn’t wear jeans, and Kenzie rarely wears pants; that’s just their stylistic preferences. His suitcase, her suitcase, her moon and sun tote. The Yeti coolers look like this and apparently keep stuff cold, like, FOREVER. Here’s the stargazing book, which I have. Duncan’s gold weed pipe looks like this and was inspired by these pictures of Cody smoking a weird vape, and also was inspired by the fact that he’s apparently (sources tell me) a big stoner irl, which I love. Pullman’s The Golden Compass/Northern Lights is indeed about parallel universes, among other things. I had to make them listen to Kiiara’s Gloe, a song that definitely sounds like it’s about Duckenzie, as I mentioned before. The Blue Skies remix is this one by Maya Jane Coles. I’m the bitch who has loved WUTHERING HEIGHTS fiercely since middle school, hence me giving Kenzie that love/a good recollection of it. I love writing their little conversations so fucking much--just my moon babies, in love. The route to Deep Creek Lake really is via a road called Lakeside Trail. The luxury cabin was inspired by two different models, this one for the front, this one for the back. The gazebo looks like this, more or less. The front room looks sort of like this, but with darker wood, no TV, a bigger fireplace (something like this, with dark stone around instead of the white wood), and not as much taxidermy. The Swarovski chandelier is like this. The bed is like this, the headboard like this, the gold laurels, and Annie Swynnerton’s Cupid and Psyche, which, fuck it, I’m saying is the real thing that Annette bought at an auction at some point (now I want a print of that one too, I love it so much, especially the flower crown in Cupid’s hair). The copper bathtub will feature again soon. I looked at this photo of Billie and this one of Cody a lot while I wrote this chapter; that’s my Kenzie and my Duncan. I said this to Luna ( @misslunarayne ) yesterday--but sometimes I get so overwhelmed by how much I love what I’m creating that I legitimately feel like I’m going to pass the fuck out. ART AND LOVE ARE THE DRUG, LADIES/GENTS/NONBINARY FOLKS. As ever, your likes, reblogs, asks, comments and edits mean the world to me. Get ready for ~a lot~ of fucking in the next chapter.

And here at the end of the evening, watching the night lights of the District of Columbia scatter and disperse as Duncan drove them back to the penthouse, Kenzie was full of contentment.

It washed over her like water, like a tide; to be inside this moment with you, Duncan, is like the purest solitude. To be inside your mind as I know you’re in mine, and to feel so much peace inside that certainty. Despite the pressing chaos of the Gala, a chaos that had tried unsuccessfully to disturb them, Kenzie knew that in the future, she’d only retain the joy from this night in her memories: Lindy and Gabby in their floral dresses, tears in Lindy’s eyes, the purity of the happiness Kenzie had felt in Duncan’s arms as the photographers snapped their cameras wildly, the way Duncan had fucked her so passionately, so utterly, his voice dipping into her ear (you are the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt, will ever feel, you’re mine and I’m infinitely blessed) his lips open on her neck, the press of the plug still inside her now, holding him inside her, the look of him leaning next to Day, his face serene, happy, and oh-so-deeply beautiful, the nostalgic joy in his gaze as he had flipped through the mythology book now safely resting on her lap. The dark beauty of him now, the dark shadow shrouding his blue gaze, glancing at her singing, the adoration in his eyes so strong it made her shiver.

“I love you so much,” he said, his tone resolute and aching, then with his mind, I love you so much, I love you, love you, love you forever angel, my angel, divine goddess his thoughts echoed against her, devolving down into blue warmth like a fading fire. “Baby, we finally get to be alone. Really alone. Oh god, I can’t wait. I might never want to come back. Would you come live in the woods with me, wild and free, Princess Kenzie?” Duncan’s gold Cartier bracelet glinted on his elegant wrist as he deftly jerked the steering wheel, his eyes glancing between her and the road, that angelic smile playing at his mouth, dizzying her. As it always will.

“I would, Fae Prince,” Kenzie drifted her fingers along the frayed edges of the mythology book, gazing up at him from the halo of her eyelashes. She felt the waves of his delight at that--the shy approval of his acceptance. The romance of this evening is ours. It exists because it exists between us. That’s all there is--this. Us. And you truly are my Prince.  “Oberon of the fairies.”

“Am I not thy lord, Titania?” Duncan grinned at her, and the blue depth of his eyes flashed darkly, and Kenzie’s breath caught. Oh sweet Goddess, you are. My body is yours and you know it is. My soul clings to yours as though it’s the lifeblood of me. Your soul is mine and the knowledge of you encircles my heart and I’m overcome in its beauty. You are my lord. You are my Hades in your shadowed majesty, my Dionysus in your wanton desire for me, if I am Titania, you are Oberon most assuredly, the moon to my sun, the sun to my moon, the sky that holds the stars of me, and my lord. Always.

“Then I must be thy lady,” Kenzie replied, reaching for his hand--Duncan grasped it with fingers hot and insistent, his thoughts bursting with warmth at her words, pulling them away a moment later as he turned the steering wheel again, onto the side-street where the high-rise was tucked off the main road, in its serene stretch of manicured lawn. The moon was silhouetted in almost the very center of the sky, not quite descending west yet. The G-Class shut off with almost no sound at all--its sleek, streamlined affect seemed almost intelligent, knowing. Kenzie looked up into the sky, gentle moonlight kissing her cheeks as she slid out of the passenger seat, brushing her hair from her shoulders--waves of it had freed themselves from Hannah’s ordered mess of roses and Kenzie watched several petals scatter on the sidewalk around her as her hand fell. She turned to Duncan, who had exited the car, coming up behind her, his hand drifting across the back of her head, down the cascade of her rosy hair. His eyes were on the petals that had fallen to the ground, then he looked at her as she turned to him, her hair still sliding through his fingers, and she could feel the ache of his mind, knew what he was thinking, saw his earnest vulnerability, felt the pounding of his heart, heard the rapid beating of her own.

I want to ask you to marry me, he was thinking. I want to ask you, Kenzie. I want to so much...

Kenzie shook her head a little, her mouth dipping open, her hand coming up to his stubbled cheek--in that hazy ring of moonlight, the stars shrouded by city lights but still almost visible above them, in that cocoon of night, and the rest of the world seemed to be utterly still but for the distant sounds of traffic far off in the distance, the slightness of the summer wind.

Not yet, Duncan. Not yet. Wait until we find out--find out whatever it is. The thing that’s coming. You feel it too. I know you do, as certainly as the dawn, as the moon in the sky right now. It’s almost here. The knowledge--the secret thing.

“Wait,” Kenzie whispered, and Duncan’s hands came down to her cheeks, and he held her there with such a delicate sweetness Kenzie felt herself immediately begin to cry. A tear drifted down from her eye to his thumb, and Duncan brushed it away, his mouth falling open in dismay. She smiled--it’s okay, baby, my sweet Prince, it’s okay. My tears are a relief to me inside your love. It moves me so much, I have to cry. “Just wait a little bit longer. Just a little longer, okay?”

Duncan was nodding, and Kenzie could see the threat of tears on him, too--he drifted his fingers against her for another moment, his face, shrouded in shadow and angelic as a painting on the roof of some holy chapel, leaning down to her, his height enveloping her, filling her with solace. The wind was drifting into his curls, and Kenzie felt utterly moved by what seemed to be on the horizon--she felt lost inside its rising call, the feeling of it suddenly swirling around them like a whirling sphere of gold, the sidewalk deserted, the night so quiet. It was as if they’d suddenly been transported to another universe, imperceptibly, in the hair’s-breadth span of a moment. Everything looked the same, but the air was different, charged with a potency that seemed alien. Because that other universe is always so close, Kenzie thought, her mind hazy with Duncan’s eyes. Isn’t it? That’s true, isn’t it, baby? That other universe, and all of them, hovering nearby.

Then the thought, imperceptible, obtuse--and the feeling--drifted away. Duncan still seemed to be lost inside her mind, in her gaze--she could feel him, rosy and desirous, falling down the curves of her body, the invisible touch of him along the golden gown she still wore, the fingers of his soul at her throat, imagining her in the throes of his passionate attentions. Kenzie shivered, then gently pulled his hand down from her cheek; Duncan dutifully gathered her train over his arm, and they walked down the pathway to the high-rise’s entrance with the moon shining on them, watchful, and its face seemed familiar again, no longer the hidden moon from a moment ago, Kenzie thought, but our moon again, though I know the other moon--those other moons--are always behind this one, aren’t they? Those other moons live beside our moon, and together they echo through time. Tonight there’s a thinness--and in that thinness, there are visible things that will vanish when daylight comes again.

It was well past midnight now, and neither Anchaly or Jerry were anywhere to be seen--a security guard sat in Anchaly’s usual seat at the front desk, and he glanced up at Duncan and Kenzie, then did a nervous double-take. Kenzie smiled at him, yep it’s us, those Instagram stars, then Duncan was pulling her with him into the elevator out of the guard’s eyesight, and she was falling against him, the book and her clutch in her arms pressing into his belly; she could see that Duncan had closed his eyes in the mirror in front of them, and his face was lined with tiredness now, the makeup there no longer able to conceal it. Lost in the feeling of you, my constant comfort, my Kenzie, and Kenzie closed her eyes too, turning her nose into his shirt and breathing deeply, her hands coming up to clutch at the lapels of his jacket, the golden tips of his collar.

“I can’t believe we can finally be alone together, baby,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it. Really alone. I’ve missed the woods so much--and we’ll be together--”

“Wait until you see it, baby,” Duncan said as they walked to the penthouse door. He was tiredly reaching for his wallet, but his hand slipped and he dropped it--Kenzie smiled, dipping down to pick it up, holding her clutch and the mythology book against her chest with her elbows, opening it, loving the feeling of the leather in her fingers (because it’s his, because it belongs to him) as she pulled his keycard out (there were at least ten other cards in it, and at least ten or twelve hundred dollar bills alongside two dozen crisp twenty dollars bills--Kenzie recognized his Black AmEx immediately amid several other American Express cards, scrunched her nose up at his license for a moment, SHEPHERD, DUNCAN MALCOLM, then the penthouse address, SEX M, HGT 5’11”, WGT 160, EYES BLU, DOB 07/06/1988, his solemn expression in it crushing her heart with affection), swiping it through the keypad beside the door. She tucked the keycard back inside the wallet and then, in a moment of abandon, lifted it to her mouth and kissed it. Duncan gave her a look of deep longing, lifting his chin back, eyes closing, biting his lip--then Kenzie reached behind her head, grasping the softness of one of the rose buds there, gently pulled at the petals--two in dark, aching red came out in her fingers, and she opened the side-nook of the wallet, slipping the petals inside.

“Just a memory of tonight,” she murmured, and slid the wallet back into his back pocket, her fingers lingering along the rise of his ass. Duncan dipped and caught her mouth inside his--he pulled the penthouse door open absently as they clung together, refusing to break apart as they stumbled inside, his hand coming down to press at the aching plug (still there, still pressing into me, aching with you now, aching with the length of my supplication to you, holding your release deep inside me). The tiredness in her seemed to dissipate now; she felt his lifting too, lifting in the cadence of his desire rising again. Kenzie noticed several shipping boxes piled by the kitchen island from the haze of his embrace, throwing the book and her clutch down on the obsidian surface, remembering the things she’d ordered for the trip a few days before, then returned to his touch, the feeling of his fingers.

“Bed. Come, baby.” Kenzie broke away from him, not even bothering to unwrap her shoes--you can do it in our bed, beloved. You will undress me. She ran to the bedroom, her train slipping from his fingers, away from him because she knew he’d follow, suddenly intoxicated with their bed’s serene black surface as it came into view--threw herself on it, watching with delight as the golden train of her dress floated out behind her, stretching off the bed in gathers that pilled along the dark wood. She turned from the position on her belly, crooking her knees as Duncan followed her into the room--he was suddenly on top of her, his much larger form enveloping her, pushing her gently down so her back was facing him, his legs on either side of her hips, his crotch pressing gently into her ass--his long fingers were instantly at the concealed zipper along her spine, pressing it down insistently. As he went lower he slid off the bed, hands coming up to begin to ease the sleeves from her arms, pulling her toward him with ease, and Kenzie turned to face him, laying on her back now as Duncan peeled the dress off her breasts. His mouth came down to one of her nipples as it came free, and Kenzie shuddered against him, against his lips, his hands working the dress down now, lips reluctantly pulling away so he could ease the dress from her hips, exposing the delicate panties he’d carefully helped her into again in that quiet powder room. Duncan had the exquisite dress Morgan had created for Kenzie in his hands now--Kenzie went to get up, but Duncan shook his head.

“Don’t, baby. Stay here.” Kenzie lay back, still wearing her golden heels and panties, her eyelids shivering, her breath gasping now in anticipation, rose petals scattered on the sheet behind her head. Duncan disappeared into the walk-in closet for a moment, then reappeared a moment later without her dress. Too beautiful a thing to discard on the floor this time, she knew, and nodded to him, loving his thoughtfulness, his mindfulness. Duncan came up to the edge of the bed, his dark and gold jacket shimmering down at her, his darkly-shadowed eyes roving from her hair scattered on the bed around her to her breasts, her nipples shivering with hardness, then he dipped his (beautiful) hands to the waistband of her panties, pulling them down as he kneeled before her, kneeled before their bed. Your altar, she heard him, and she trembled, her body feeling too hot and too cold at once inside his blue eyes. Duncan.worked at the ties at her ankles with his graceful long hands, kissing the inclines of her feet as he pulled the shoes off, carefully setting them aside. Kenzie glanced over his shoulder, watching the shape of his back, the velvety gold of his blazer, the soft fall of his hair, kneeling before her in the Mirror. My Prince kneels before me, oh, fuck, Goddess--

“Do you want me to undress?” He asked her; and his thoughts were intensely earnest, his mind interested only in her needs, making her think of evening clouds drifting in an indigo sunset. Oh Duncan, you are so beautiful inside. So fucking lovely. I feel selfish to behold this part of you, this hidden wondrous beauty of you, but I can’t help it, I want it all to myself. Beloved, exalted in my eyes. You’re so beautiful to look at, but oh, Goddess, your real beauty is the one the world cannot see, and I am moved by him, that hidden self, body and soul.

“No--” Kenzie gasped as the cool air of the room drifted against the sensitivity of the plug, the hardness of her nipples, and her arms broke out in goosebumps. She moved her thighs apart as his hands pressed insistently up the incline of her legs, felt the lips of her sex spread open for him, the stretch of her asshole around the plug, wet with the residue of his come. “I want you to suck on me, Prince, give your mouth to me with your come held inside my naked body, worship my body that belongs to you--”

“Kenzie, fuck,” he whispered, then Duncan brought his face down close to the open lips of her, laving out his tongue, wet with spit that dripped from his aching mouth, to press insistently to her clit, lingering there as she writhed inside his grasp for a moment, lifting her chin to the ceiling and moaning in a soft, prolonged stream that she knew would drive him insane with longing--then one of his hands was drifting from her thigh to her belly, from her belly to pinch insistently at her breast, twisting her nipple in a hard grip that made her gasp, then drifting up further to her neck, to where she still wore Adelaide’s braided golden ruby, and Duncan pressed his elegant, achingly lovely hand into her there, and gripped her tightly as he sucked, hard and unrelenting, at her clit. Kenzie’s hips bucked up in a keening roll that bled into a steady rhythm, the whining cries from her sent out like entreating prayers to him, and she was murmuring his name, her hands thrown back, palms open at either side of her head, knowing he wanted her to stay still, knowing he wanted to hold her under his mercy in this moment, murmuring to him to try to keep herself from coming already, fuck, not yet, I want you to give me everything, my Prince, I dream of your mouth on me always, your devotions. The pressure of the plug in her ass was sending shocks up her spine with every convulsion of her cunt under his lips and tongue, and his hand at her throat was sweet with constriction.

“Choke me, baby,” she heard herself, whimpering, “Ch-choke me and suck my clit, I’m your angel baby and I n-need you--need you--fuck me with your mouth--”

“Mmmhm,” Duncan’s mouth was buried flush against her, but Kenzie could feel the rolling vibrations of his lips humming against her, and his hand was pressing with measured strength, harder, into her neck, the feeling of his fingers so intense they seemed to burn against her. Kenzie let out a little gasp, and Duncan moved his hand up to the dip of where her jaw began at the top of her throat; with careful insistence he pressed her chin back so her eyes couldn’t see him, were forced to look towards the wall behind them, the empty wall that she’d said they should put something on--for a brief second, Kenzie contemplated this again, wildly--we really should put something on that wall, something beautiful--and then Duncan was raising his head to rest his chin for a moment on her abdomen, still forcing her head back, his other hand coming down to rub at her clit so she’d have no reprieve from his attentions.

“Kenzie, you taste like fucking heaven, baby, like the fucking nectar of heaven, like ambrosia, you taste like wine made from the apples of trees that grow in paradise, I dream about the sweet scent of your cunt now and I wake up in hunger for you, all I want is you, you bless me to let me worship you this way, princess of heaven, my flower of the universe--”

Kenzie was shivering under his hand, her hips trembling, and she tried to move back from his fingers, loathe to come yet, loathe to miss his fingers touching her with such terrible sweetness, and she was murmuring between her gasping, heard herself say “put your fingers in my mouth, baby, make me suck on you too,” and he was nodding, bringing his index and middle fingers up to her wet, shuddering bottom lip, pulling her head back down to look at him, dipping them inside her to press on her tongue for a moment before drifting up so she could close her mouth on him, his other fingers still holding her head back, still keeping her steady, prostrate, and Kenzie sucked desperately at his (those hands, for me alone, let me worship you too, baby) fingers, whimpered into the feeling of his skin, and Duncan was burying his mouth against her again, his tongue gentle now, but no less insistent, dipping against her until she keened once more, keened against his arm pressed along her body between her breasts, holding her down for him, you like keeping me here, don’t you, baby, she drifted against him, you like holding me down, making me writhe for you, my angelic love--

“Fuck, yes,” Duncan’s reply was spoken aloud, and Kenzie knew he wanted to speak his longing into her, not just press his love to her sex, but speak it into the room, fill every corner with it. “I do, baby, I fucking do, I love you all to myself this way,” and he was licking along the curve of the lips of her sex, down to the dip of skin before the plug pushed snugly inside her, “Unng, baby, fuck, you taste so good--wait till we’re in the woods, I’m gonna fuck you every hour, fuck you until we’re so exhausted we have to sleep all day, and then we’ll wake up and fuck again, I’ll worship you again and again, into the night, under the stars, all through the day until the sun is dipping low in the sky--” he was dipping his fingers in and out of the wetness of her mouth now, making her moan with the sensation of being filled so with his lips and his fingers and the plug, still sending its shockwaves through her back every time Duncan made her cunt twinge; the space between her convulsions was becoming smaller and smaller, and she was beginning to see golden bursts of need in the corners of her vision, bearing down on her--Duncan seemed to sense how close she was treading to her orgasm, and he continued to speak against her between his admonitions, dipping his tongue into the shuddering twinge of her vulva, then long and languid at her clit, then speaking the sweet, ardent poem into her, his breath so shivering-soft, brushing down onto the wetness gathering strongly between her legs, her arousal and his saliva mingling irrevocably--Duncan brought his hand away from her mouth to grasp her under both thighs, hitching her knees over his shoulders so she was lifted up utterly, into his face, his eyes closing in the throes of his ardency, shrouding them in the dark eyeshadow still on him, reminding her of some holy fresco painted dark, a pious congregant in ecstatic worship, an achingly lovely visage of a damned soul finally redeemed. I love your eyelashes, your sweet eyelids, the incline of your cheeks, your mouth, fu-fuck, your beautiful fucking mouth, Duncan, how--how are you mine--

“You’re my angel, you’re fucking heaven to me--you’re a fucking goddess, even now you’re dipped in gold, the gold is you, it’s you, only you, exalted, beloved, entire, my only--” Duncan brought his fingers down, pressing them into the plug, pulling gently at it so she cried out at the smooth pressure of the bulb against the opening of her there as he flushed his mouth onto the bud of her again, “--So fucking beautiful I never want to look away from you, Kenzie--so fucking beautiful you fill all of my senses and time means nothing against you--nothing, uhhh, fuck, Kenzie--my fucking beautiful angel, god, I fucking love your body, I want to hold it forever--my Princess, sweetest golden honey, my moonlight, come for me, come for me, come against my lips, come into me--” and he was lifting his mouth away, bringing the hand that had toyed with the plug up, raising a flat palm to give her a little testing slap along the spread lips of her sex--Kenzie whined and bucked up into the air, her knees over his shoulders, his mouth hovering near her, smiling that smile beyond the beauty of her imagining, and she was whimpering again, and now she was begging, “Fuck, baby, please, do it again, I’m so close,” and Duncan’s face went slack with adoration, a little moan escaping him too to see her beg, to hear the sweetness of it, she knew--

Then he brought his palm down more harshly, the sound of it snapping into the wetness between her legs as he slapped her clit with a concentrated, sharp pressure, and Kenzie cried out, her eyes closing with an involuntary, ragged intake of breath--the coil of her orgasm was making her thighs begin to shake uncontrollably now, and she knew Duncan could see it in her eyes, see that she was about to let go for him, and he yanked her across the black sheet to the edge of the bed, so she was intently against him, as close as he could possibly clutch her to his open mouth, bringing both hands down to her face, one grasping at her neck again, against the cool gold of the necklace, oh god, Adelaide, if you could see where your necklace is now, Kenzie thought wildly, under the hot fingers of your grandson fucking the life out of me with his tongue, his other hand dipping around the space under her ear, his thumb probing into her mouth again, dipping harshly into the crook of it, forcing her lips open to him, wanting my mouth open to him, she knew, could feel his desire like an intense bluish flood, felt his thumb move down to her bottom lip and press it open, could feel the satisfaction in him when her moan needled up.

He leaned back from her cunt just long enough to spit a rivulet of saliva down onto her clit, then he pressed his tongue there again and she was dazzled with bursts of glittering anticipation, down from her mind into her body to her thighs, and Kenzie whimpered into his fingers, a whimper that became a wailing convulsion--Duncan did not ease his mouth, rather rebounded onto her as the plug tormented at her, pressing into her as her thighs shook, the shiver moving down her legs and down through the center of her abdomen, coursing out in tendrils of white-hot pleasure from his mouth’s avid attention.

Kenzie’s chin lifted back as she came now, her voice pressing out an sobbing cry that rattled every corner of her mind--she felt Duncan’s hands press more harshly into her mouth, harder into her neck, bringing dips of darkness into her vision, could feel the shuddering of her cunt under his mouth, the reverberations of the plug, and tears were coursing down her cheeks in an instant--she was crying in earnest now, but unlike the tears from earlier tonight, prompted by the terrible hate in Bill Shepherd’s agonized eyes and her own rebounded sadness toward the people who had surrounded Duncan for so much of his life, these tears were ecstatic, astounded at the fullness she felt inside this moment with him, utterly shaken by the feeling drifting out of him in surges that felt like a kiss on every inch of her.

Duncan heard her sobs now, she knew, because he’d lifted his eyes up to her from his pressing diligence between her legs--he lifted his mouth away as she came down from the edge, and his arms were lifting her limp, spent body into him now, sliding up onto the bed as he held her so his knees were against the black sheet, sliding her naked body up to the pillow to set her head gently against it, scattering rose petals as he did from her hair now coming undone, his mouth, wet with her sex, coming to kiss along her cheek and jaw. His arms were caressing at her, up and down her waist, along the dips of her breasts and against her neck, but with aching gentleness now, and Kenzie felt like she was on fire with his touch, could barely catch her breath with her tears. She grasped at his velvet jacket, her hands trailing at the gold collar, lifting up to his hair, to his cheek with its sweet stubble, and her tears were terribly hot and their salt fell between her lips, a relief inside the depth of her love for him in that moment.

“Shhhh, baby, shhhhh--” and Duncan was hovering over her, hands coming up to her hair and her cheek, soothing over her there, his elbows crooked on either side of her body, his much larger one enveloping her with his dark velvets and silky shirt, the heavy heat of him, the overwhelming musky-sandalwood-woods scent of him, his desire and his love, the scent of her sex lingering near her cheek now from his mouth as he kissed along her skin, making her sigh and shake, drying her tears. “I love you, Kenzie, baby, I love you--” and she could feel his thoughts, knew that he could sense her relief, the depth of the calmness settling into her now, sense how good (so fucking good baby fucking fuck I love you too Duncan I love you) he had made her feel, and she could feel him smiling into her cheek, feel his joy at her joy and her peace, and she wished this moment could extend, on and on, its perfection shaking her heart.

“It is perfect, isn’t it,” he whispered against her, and she could feel the tininess of his eyelashes as his eyes closed against her, and she felt close to her tears again, had to scrunch her face so they wouldn’t begin anew, and Duncan was saying “oh, Kenzie, oh, baby, if you want to cry, it’s okay--” and she was pressing her arms around the back of his hair, pulling him down against her so she fell into the space of his arms with his head beside her on the pillow, pressed her wet cheek against his heart, tucking her arms down between them against her mouth, bringing her legs together, shivering at the sensitivity of her sex, the deep moisture there from her release and his mouth. His cheek pressed into the crown of her hair, his fingers tangling in the roses that were drifting apart in the chestnut waves scattered behind her. Kenzie sighed again--a deep, shuddering sigh, a sigh that she knew was pushing away everything from the past two days, pushing it away from him too, insisting that now, beginning now, starting now, under this moon, like the all-knowing eye of some resplendent white goddess, and away from the other, prying eyes of everyone and everything, they’d worship each other in earnest, get lost--it’s time to get lost in each other, my dearest love. The days to come belong to us and us alone.

“Wait till you see it,” he was whispering into her hair. “Fuck, baby, I’m never going to want to leave, I know it already--even imagining being with you there feels like--like a beautiful dream. We’ll light a bonfire, we’ll bring the big blanket out under the summer sky, there’s this patch a quarter of a mile from the cabin, the trees part and the sky is totally spread out, and you can see everything at night--” Kenzie felt herself calming, let herself float inside the sound of his voice--the penthouse was blessedly quiet, any sounds from the world outside hushed, 30 stories down, far away. This is the only thing I want in the world right now, she knew, just to be here with you, the memory of your mouth still lingering on me, your hands in my hair, the jasmine-cedar scent of you, the beating of your heart against me.

“There are so many goldenrods in the summer, too, and last time there were all these wild orchids--Annette and Bill had this weekend retreat with all these Congress members, god, it was awful--but--one evening I escaped from everyone and went off in the woods alone and the light was falling so sweetly on them, everything was bathed in soft gold and deep blue, and I think I hoped for you that night, Kenzie, I think I longed for you, even though I didn’t know it was you I was thinking of, I didn’t know it was you I was missing so terribly, but it was, wasn’t it? It was you all along...it’s always been you. I know that now.”

Kenzie lifted her chin up from where it had been pressed against him, and Duncan brought his mouth down onto her, and their kiss was dream-soft and so earnest from him it almost pained her, his mind aching against her--she could feel the slight weight of his cock on her leg through where the pants still constricted him, knowing he was hovering around his arousal again, but also feeling the depth of his tiredness, the sincerity of his emotion inside the memory of his loneliness. He leaned away, the blue of his eyes so bright they didn’t seem real, then he pushed himself up, hand drifting down to her hip, looking down at her, his elbow crooked so his face hovered over her.

“I’m starving, baby,” Kenzie murmured up to him, sleepiness tinging her voice, her hands drifting at his velvet arms. The pillow was so soft under her head, his fingers so soothing on her skin--her eyes closed for a moment as Kenzie surrendered to the wave of tiredness that washed over her. Your touch is home. It’s the highest of all pleasures, the most soothing thing I’ve ever felt. Your touch.

“Okay, baby, hang on--don’t fall asleep yet,” and she felt Duncan kiss her cheek, his lips drifting down to press more along her skin, two kisses, three, four--then he lifted away from her and she opened her eyes, turning to watch his velvet back retreat, his hand drifting through the back of his hair--he glanced back at her, eyes adoring, and she smiled, bringing her hands down to drift between her legs, I can still feel your mouth there, and he grinned shyly (still shy of me, I can’t believe it), disappearing through the doorway.

A moment later she heard him call to her from the kitchen, his voice amused and curious. “Baby, what’s in all these boxes?” She could hear the small sounds of him moving around there, but not their precision--she waited for a moment, still floating inside her post-orgasm, not answering. Duncan reappeared after a few more beats, having removed his shoes and blazer now, a black bowl in one hand and a Waterford glass in the other. He slid onto the bed again, holding the glass down to her. Kenzie propped herself up against the headboard, clutching it in two hands and drinking greedily. The water was wonderfully cold and clear, and it brushed some of the sleepiness from her mind. She sat up more, feeling the plug pressing into her as her ass brushed along the sheets; she shivered out a little moan, and could see the desire flit across Duncan’s gaze again. She smiled at him and leaned over to set the glass on his nightstand; he passed her the bowl now, hand dipping down to her thigh. It had another bunch of the crimson grapes they’d been eating earlier (The Youth of Bacchus, Kenzie thought, fighting the urge to run to the study to look at it right now, thrilled with knowledge that she could if she wanted to, for it hung there), a handful of raw almonds, and a long bar of very dark chocolate in six segments that looked almost black in the low bedroom light.

“Ooo, baby,” and she was squealing with delight at the chocolate, reaching for it with insistent fingers, crossing her legs under her against the sheet. She broke a piece off and lifted it up to his mouth--Duncan’s teeth snatched it out of her fingers and Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh--being with you. She leaned up to kiss him, the sweet, dark taste of the chocolate mingling in their mouths. Being with you is heaven.

“What’s in all those boxes?” Duncan asked again, reaching for some of the grapes, popping them in his mouth, then reaching up to his collar and beginning to unbutton it. He pulled the hem of the shirt out of his belt, easing it off his arms, then worked at the buckle as his eyes drifted over her nakedness--Kenzie felt shy under his gaze, wondering again if that feeling would ever fade. Caught in the eyes of this beautiful boy--truly beautiful, a face that a sculptor would die to render, Michael the Archangel, David trapped in stone, fairest Adonis. And he kneels to me. Kneels and worships ME.

“Stuff I ordered for our trip,” she replied, breaking off more chocolate, twining golden strands of hair around her finger, recalling. “Ghost stories--” she wiggled her fingers at him and he laughed, “--and some quilts and blankets for our bed--I want it to be extra cozy--and for stargazing, a fireside cooking kit--we can make tinfoil dinners, those are so fun--and, well, a bunch of clothes--” and she grinned at him, loving the way his face immediately went soft with the prospect, enthralled with the mere mention of such a thing. Baby, she thought, you get to watch me get dressed every day now, every fucking day, you care stare as much as you want.

“--including these tiny little cutoff shorts, and a little black bikini,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper as she spoke, letting her mouth hang open at the end, her eyes teasing him.

“Fuck,” Duncan leaned in to kiss her, and as he did he bit gently at her bottom lip, sucking for a moment and then releasing her--and then he was dropping his belt on the floor to the side of the bed, bringing his legs over it to ease the pants off, then his socks, then his briefs, discarding them all in a heap, freeing his partially-hard cock. He looked over at her, reached for the chocolate in her hand, fingers drifting down her skin, then breaking another piece off and dipping it into his mouth (your lips, baby). Then he rose with a teasing glance of his own to her, and went into the bathroom--Kenzie admired his ass as he did, blushing a little into her chocolate. Round and smooth. I wanna bite it. She heard the water running, and set the remainder of the chocolate in the bowl, sliding off the bed, wincing a little at the soreness of the plug still inside her.

Kenzie stepped into the bathroom; Duncan was washing his face, and she glanced down, watching the dark makeup swirl down the drain. The Gala really is finally over. I’m so relieved, honestly. Now it feels like I can breathe again. Like we can breathe. This revelation from Annette may have actually been a blessing in disguise. Time to run away with you for awhile, my love. Duncan was patting his face dry with a towel, then he turned to her as she came up beside him, leaning on the sink. She knew he could hear her. Can you take my plug out now, please, Prince?

“I’ll take it out now. Lean down a little, baby.”

Kenzie nodded, and leaned over the basin, moving her feet apart so her thighs were spread slightly. Duncan unscrewed the top of the coconut oil on the counter and dipped his fingers into it--then he stepped behind her and eased the fingers around the jewel at her backside. Kenzie breathed in, slowly.

“Press out, baby.” Kenzie did as he said, and winced a little again, but only a little--the oil had soothed the sting of the chafing there, and the plug popped out of her a moment later. Duncan brought it over the sink and turned the hot water on over it again--Kenzie watched him rinse it with soapy, gentle hands as she pulled the pack of wet wipes from one of the drawers under the sink, easing one of them along the dip between her ass. It came away with a little blood again, but just a little--it’s worth it, honestly, because fuck, you fucked me so fucking good, baby, fucked me hard and ate me out so fucking good, fuck. He glanced over at her as he turned the faucet off, having finished washing her plug--she saw the glint in his eyes, the indication that he’d heard her thoughts, the knowledge of her lust. Duncan set the plug on the counter, and then he pulled her achingly against him, pressing his nakedness into her, lifting her up into an open-mouthed kiss. The roses were still falling from her hair around their feet--Duncan set her back down to earth and turned her gently, and then his beautiful fingers began to work the roses out of her hair, setting them gently one by one on the bathroom counter. Kenzie glanced over to the mirror to watch him as she reached for her toothbrush; my Prince, your gentleness amazes me still. She knew she would remember this moment, crystallized, in the future. Your hands in my hair, the roses falling through your fingers, the blue of your eyes, the drift of your thoughts to me, so soft, so devoted.

Kenzie, he was thinking, I’ll put flowers in your hair in the forest, scatter flowers on our bed, flowers in your arms, we’ll lay in them and forget the world, they’ll weave flowers in your hair on our wedding day, I know it already as if I can see through a window, I can see the halo of your head and a crown of dark roses there, my Persephone, a dream of the future yet I know it’s real, how I long to ask you, to speak it into existence…

Duncan untwined the last of the rosebuds and Kenzie turned to him, lifting her chin to his face, but not kissing him, not quite--she hovered her lips achingly near to his, and heard the quiet, longing sound that drifted out of him against her, his face now free of the dark makeup he’d worn all night, and still so stunningly, completely beautiful, and yet you long for me, she thought, her skin wildly sensitive under his touch, you worship me, little old Mackenzie Stone.

“You aren’t little, Kenzie. I mean...you are little. I love how little you are, I love how close I can hold you--” and here his hands drifted down to Kenzie’s ass, cupping her there, pressing her sensitive sex up into him, his mouth hovering at her chin, “but baby, you aren’t little. You’re so bright--like the sun. Your vastness...it fucking staggers me. It’s like you have a universe inside you, and it’s beautiful beyond all description.You’re so divine--so strong, so brave, so kindhearted and so bright, like golden starlight--”

“Fuck, Duncan, the way you talk to me--”

“Just my entreating prayers to a goddess,” he whispered, lips finally falling under her ear. “Just my endless hope for her blessing.”

“Come to bed with me, hold me, sleep with me, fair Oberon, and in the morning, let’s fuck off into the forest and never come back,” and Kenzie was smiling against the overwhelmingly sweet sensation of his lips, and she felt him smile too and then laugh against her, a laugh that was so desperately joyful that she felt lost inside it for a moment, as though he were Eros and the sound of his laughter was the sound of desire itself. Purest joy. My love, that I can bring you this, that you have given yourself to me this way--it moves my soul utterly, it is the highest of all things, to be loved, to love you. She laughed too, a heartfelt laugh that threatened to dissolve into tears in her throat, and Duncan was kissing her mouth with soft, sweet pecking kisses, and she knew he felt the mingling fall of her emotion, the deluge in her. His hands came around her neck, unclasping Adelaide’s golden necklace, setting it on the sink beside her roses, and Kenzie was moved by the sight, by its shivering, quiet beauty--one is the city, the other the forest, and tomorrow we’ll retreat into nature and find its secrets, she thought. She shivered, and then Duncan was pulling her to the bed, shutting the lights off as he did, easing her down against into the sheets with his (clouded sky) eyes full of tenderness, setting the bowl with the chocolate and grapes aside (later my love, all things later, now, only you, only me, only sleep and our dreams of those other places, only the moon and us) and she was gathered inside his arms, her cheek at his heart again, his sex pressed into her belly, their legs irrevocably twined.

“Kenzie,” he murmured, and she was moved to be in the sudden darkness, in the feeling of him, “Will you sing to me? I love your voice so much.  Just a little, baby, please?”

Kenzie sighed against him. “Oh, baby. Of course I will.” She heard the thought he didn’t say aloud, the shyness in it: a lullaby. My sweet Duncan. My beloved. I will soothe you as you know only I can. She was quiet for a moment, in the stillness, in the shadows, in his arms. Then she knew what she wanted to sing to him; knew it as certainly as her love for him.

“Do you always trust your first initial feeling, special knowledge...holds true…bears believing…” And Kenzie felt him bury his face against the softness of her hair, his deep sigh of contentment, his love bursting into her, “I turned around, and the water...was closing...all around, like a glove, like the love, that had finally, finally found me...and I knew...in the crystalline knowledge of you…”

And then they were dreaming, untethered from earth, together; under the face of another moon, this one much larger than the one they’d left, and lit with a glow that was utterly not of their world.

--------

The light was sweet and low as Kenzie drifted up, back to reality. It’s very early, she knew. She let her eyes linger closed for a moment, trying to recall the dream she’d surfaced from this time; it certainly wasn’t a bad dream, not like our nightmares, she knew. In this one she’d been wearing a very long black velvet gown with a very tight bodice that had exposed her throat to the dip of her breasts--it had pilled around her in huge folds, had drifted behind her as she walked--she remembered with a rush that the Mirror was in the dream, its embellished gold frame distinct, its vastness obvious. I saw myself in it, and I looked beautiful, but I looked--I looked like myself but not like myself. I wore dark jewels on my throat, and...there was this power in my eyes, I could see it reflected in the Mirror. Duncan was with me, but he was wearing something...something from another time period. He wore...breeches, I think that’s what they’re called, and long boots. His hair was longer--it fell to his shoulders in beautiful waves, but it was the same color it is now, like russet autumn leaves, not like the terrible, dark man I dreamt with his face, and not like that other Duncan, the one who had nebulas for eyes, with wings I didn’t understand the shape of. He was kissing my neck--he was wearing a flowing white shirt and he was taking it off, we were in a room with a huge four-poster bed, an opulent room, like we were in Versailles or something, the fireplace was lit and the light was low and we were full of nervous excitement, full of desire…

Here her recollection of the dream ended and she opened her eyes, sighing a little. The Mirror. The Mirror was there. Our Mirror. My Mirror...the one I know belongs to me somehow. It had something to do with that...with me knowing that. Duncan stirred a little against her--his arms had moved in sleep and one of them, she realized, was clutched at the dip of her ass--the other was against her hand between their pillows, his pinky and ring finger hooked around hers, their Cartier bracelets hovering near each other--the diamonds of Kenzie’s caught the early light, glinting into her sleep-touched eyes. Duncan’s stubbled jaw turned up in his sleep, his mouth opening a little, then closing, the small movement of his throat sending a shiver up her bare spine. My beautiful baby. His hand at her ass moved up to the small of her back--drew her in closer in his sleep, her hip bone pressing against his, his hardness (always), sending a little gasp of sensation out from her as it lifted into the space between her legs.

Kenzie hesitated for a moment, longing for his eyes to open, longing for his mouth to fall on hers, longing for the feeling of him probing into her mind--I feel lonely without him there now, I can’t help it--longing for the feeling of his beautifully thick, hard cock to be inside her, but she knew they had a long drive today--the sooner they left the penthouse and got on the road, the sooner they could be in the wonderful solitude of the woods, be at the lake. Alone together. Not like our day at the beach--which was so wonderful, but so brief--really alone together, for days, and free to explore the secrets of each other and the joy of nature. Fuck, I can’t wait.

It had been almost a year since the last time Kenzie was in the woods--she and Claire had gone with some of her old Georgetown friends to a nearby campgrounds and stayed for two nights during the muggiest stretch of August. It had been terribly hot, but the evenings had been so tranquil and lovely and the sunsets so beautiful, and she’d been so happy to be with Claire, and the memory was a good one--they’d shared a tent and eaten burnt hot dogs and canned baked beans and s’mores, got eaten alive by mosquitoes, and laughed with each other a lot, over everything, as they always did. My Clairebear. I wonder how your date with Harris went, and Kenzie smiled, thoughts drifting from Claire back to Duncan, her gaze roving over the man (almost more than a man sometimes, to me, like an angel, his soul having opened to me this way) she loved more than she ever thought possible--more than she would have thought herself, or anyone, capable of. She pushed back the feeling of tears, which always seemed to be hovering near now, and eased herself out of his embrace. Duncan stirred again, dipping his head down, his hand coming under his cheek--and he sighed in his sleep, then descended back into silent, slow breaths. Just sleep a little longer, my loveliest love, she sent out to him, her thoughts lined in gold. Sleep until your tiredness melts away--then we’ll leave.

Kenzie eased off the bed, glancing at the roses she’d tied above it, her eyes sliding to the Mirror (you were in my dream, beautiful thing--maybe our dream, if he dreamed too), examining her nakedness, moving to the bathroom. She gazed affectionately at her Golden Pothos on the back of the toilet as she sat to pee, wincing as she wiped herself--my poor asshole, she thought with an inner laugh, sorry sweetie, you’re gonna need to suck it up and get used to a big cock inside you. She snorted, giggling at her own thoughts, reaching for her hairbrush, coaxing the tangles out of her hair as she looked at the necklace and roses scattered on the sink affectionately. Kenzie set the brush down, grasping the necklace and moving to the closet, eyes watching Duncan in his quiet repose, hair tossed over his forehead; Eros sleeps. It was barely past 7, but she felt wide awake now, the stresses of the Gala--the chaotic energy of the press and photographers towards them, Marissa Montague’s tantrum, Bill Shepherd hissing into her face, his skin gray, his breath sour with sickness, the overwhelming sadness that had driven her to run blindly through a back hallway until she had reached that room that she knew had once belonged to Duncan--seeming far away already. She neatly set the necklace along the stretch of dark wood shelf where she now kept her jewelry in the huge closet--she admired it for a moment, the sheen of its gold and diamonds, fingers drifting over it, the perfect roundness of the ruby--then Kenzie reached for the Tiffany moon and clasped it around her neck. The first thing he ever brought me as a gift--like he was bringing me an offering on an altar. And my offering to him was the meal that I made for us--and he was so happy to receive it. I knew he was. I know he’s happy, truly happy, to receive whatever I give him. Because he loves me. Fuck, he truly does.

Kenzie turned, noticing Duncan had hung her golden gown from last night on a long wood hanger in the corner, so it faced the doorway. Its train drifted in a gathered pile on the floor, and Kenzie was struck by its loveliness again--a dress for a goddess. I wonder how all those pictures turned out, she wondered. I felt so lost in that happiness with him in those moments, it’s like for a little while I lost track of everything that was going on around us. But no. I’m not going to look. In fact, I’d like to not look at my phone at all while we’re away. I’ll bring it with me, but I think I’m going to just turn it off. Kenzie went out through the living room, still naked but for the moon necklace and the Cartier bracelet (which I’ll never take off, only he can take it off me) now; the penthouse was cool and she liked the chilliness on her skin, knowing it would be another hot June day. She moved to the obsidian island--it was clean of all residue of the food that had been spread there the evening before by Erik, Hannah and Georgio, the hands of the still-unseen-to-her housekeepers having whisked it away. I need to meet them and thank them for all the work they do to clean this penthouse, Kenzie thought, feeling guilty. They clean this space so beautifully. They deserve my thanks at the very least. I know Duncan is used to living this way, but I’m not--I’m used to cleaning up after myself. This world is still so strange to me.

She slid her golden clutch from last night off the island, snapping it open, glancing for a moment at her phone--a text from Mom, confirming Samuel had dropped her off safely, wishing them a wonderful time at the cabin, and an alert for an email from Candice, who’d confirmed Kenzie’s requests for PTO while they were away. Kenzie felt strange again, drifting in the knowledge that she’d never really need to worry about money again--god, since when? She wondered. She remembered living on ramen and oranges while she was at Georgetown, loathe to ask Momby for money; thought affectionately, nostalgically, of her tiny apartment, now empty of her things, empty of her life, which was here now, with Duncan. And now I’m wearing diamonds, and ordering hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothes with my boyfriend’s card like it’s nothing. She tucked her left foot behind her right heel, absently toeing a fourth position, the old habit of her ballet classes hovering in her subconscious as she wallowed in the feeling. Then, she remembered the longing look of happiness in his eyes when she had mentioned it last night--he loves to buy me things, he loves my clothes. He gave me that card because he loves to give me things. He loves me. He loves me so much. How does he love me so much. I’m the luckiest girl in the world. I’m going to just be happy--just be happy and enjoy this right now. 

Kenzie shut her phone off, then knelt down to where the boxes were piled, sifting through them until she found the ones with Free People shipping labels. Glee fell down through her as she opened them--every day since they met, the way Duncan would stare at her getting dressed sent wild, nervous, anticipatory energy through her body. She thought of him looking at her in these lovely things, these lovely pieces of clothing she’d so carefully chosen to make herself feel beautiful, to make herself feel like the best version of herself she could be, the happiest, the kindest, the most open--the self she knew she had in her, had sometimes been before she met him and was still, the self she would always be, but now even greater than before. If anything, he makes me more myself, she knew. He makes me braver, fills my heart with courage. With him I feel like I can do anything. I feel like I can be the person I’ve always known I could be, deep down. Now, I can be her, that best self, because he’s here, and I was waiting for him. I was waiting for my partner, the person I could share everything with--all of me. I was waiting for my love, for the love that would kindle my heart to the highest emotions, and bring me to life. When Duncan said he longed for me that evening in the woods when he was alone, I knew he meant it. And now I know I longed for him too--in the dark of my quiet bed alone at night, those nights after Tyler and I broke up and I was so fucking lonely sometimes I’d cry myself to sleep in the shadows, it was Duncan I ached for, and now I know that. It was him, and now I feel like sometimes I almost perceived the shape of him inside that loneliness, saw the outline of his face, his hair, his hands. Knew that he was out there somewhere, in the world, looking for me too. And I found him, oh, Goddess. I found him. Thank you, Fates. Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. You weaved us together, tied us with a golden string that cannot be broken. You brought us together again. The wheel turned for us. I’m grateful.

Kenzie pulled a pair of classic black Vans with white laces from one of the boxes, alongside the aforementioned tiny cut off shorts and little black bikini--she also pulled out a golden-yellow lacy cropped top with long blouse sleeves and a v-neck that plunged low, a tie at the front. Kenzie gathered her outfit choices and moved to the bathroom again, slipping into the shower and turning the knob--she used a tie she’d left on the toiletry rack at some point to hold her tawny hair back, and lathered Duncan’s jasmine soap over her body, over the sensitivity between her ass cheeks, along the lips of her cunt, thinking of his mouth there. The way you eat me out, fuck, baby, it’s like--fucking nirvana. I feel your worship in every bit of my body when you do that. Then Kenzie stepped out of the shower, letting her hair fall down again, slipping into the little bikini, which hugged her small breasts flatteringly, then wrapped the gold-sunflower crop top around her body, the cut-offs over her thighs. She glanced at herself in the bathroom’s oval mirror, the wide glow of her eyes, the fall of her hair, brushed to soft waves, the moon at her neck, the incline of her thighs below the little shorts and the dip of her bare waist between--go wake your baby up with your cute ass, girl.

Kenzie went to the bed softly, smiling against her fist--Duncan hadn’t moved from the same position, his head dipping down into his hand on the pillow, his expression achingly angelic. She slid down to him, lifting her leg around him so she was straddling him across his torso, pushing him gently so he was on his back--Duncan stirred, moaning a little, reaching for her, and then his hands fell on the softness of her blouse then to the smoothness of her stomach, the dip of her ass in the little shorts, and his eyes drifted open, their depth instantly intrigued.

“Good morning, Prince Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, shaking her hair around her shoulders, fingers coming up to brush along the Tiffany moon, so he would see she was wearing it. “Are you ready to fuck off into the woods with your baby?”

“Mmmh, Kenzie, angel--” Duncan was blinking the sleep away from his eyes now, gripping her tighter, sliding himself up so he was against the headboard, pulling her against his naked lap, his hard cock coming up between them, pressing inside her spread thighs, against the crotch of the denim cut offs, his lips falling to the space beside her mouth and drifting back to her ear. Kenzie couldn’t stop the tiny moan that fell out of her at the insistence of his mouth and his arms, suddenly--god, you smell so good, baby, you smell like desire.

“Unng, you look so fucking cute,” he was murmuring against her, lifting away from his hot kisses on her skin, his (finally open, oh fuck, goddess, open and full of so much need like a blue sky over an ocean of impossible depth) eyes roving over her, the shape of her in the crop top and the tiny shorts, the moon at her throat, the fall of her hair. “You’re my Princess, Kenzie, aren’t you? Fuck, kiss me, Princess--” Kenzie grinned at him and gripped his stubbled jaw, nipping hot kisses along his bottom lip, one of his hands burying itself inside her hair at the back of her skull, holding her steady to him, the other drifting into the back of her shorts against her ass, his Cartier bracelet cool on her skin--his hands felt the smooth fabric of her bikini bottoms and he let out another low moan into her mouth.

“I’m wearing my new little black bikini under this,” Kenzie smiled into him.

“Mmh, Kenzie, fuck, baby--babylove--” Kenzie could feel the straining in his mind, drifting against her, the thought he was hesitating to speak out loud. I need your mouth on my cock, baby, my poor cock is so fucking hard for you, hard like last night, it hurts, it needs you, I fucking need you--

“You want me to suck your big cock, huh, Prince Duncan?” Kenzie moved her hips as she spoke into his mouth, lifted herself so she ground against him, the denim shifting against his length. Duncan let out a pitiful moan, his eyes wincing closed in an achingly lovely supplication to her.

“Please,” he whispered into her “Please, Princess Kenzie. I’ll do anything. I--I’ll--”

“Shhhhh, shhhh, baby,” and Kenzie brought her hand up to her mouth between them, willing spit from the back of her throat for a moment, then licking down the inside of her fingers wetly, shushing his begging, pressing her lips against the bridge of his nose, leaning away, smiling, teasing. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering just beside his hardness, not letting herself touch him, a line of spit falling down from her fingers onto the head of his erection, and he let out another piteous little moan, his fingers drifting at her thighs, staring into her. Then, Duncan rolled his hips into her, and his stiff, thick cock fell against her hand and she closed her fingers around it with terrible gentleness, and he was crying piteously against her, “uhh, Kenzie, Kenzie angel, fucking please--”

Kenzie gripped him tighter, eased her little fingers up to the head of his cock, her index finger drifting over the sensitive hole at the tip, and she felt the shiver fall through him, watched the ecstatic drift of his eyes. I’m never gonna get over how fucking gorgeous you are, Duncan Shepherd, and she jerked her hand along his length again, squeezing it a little at the base, palm brushing over his balls with a weighted insistence.

“This big cock belongs to me, doesn’t it, baby?” Kenzie pressed her mouth against the stubble on his jaw as she jerked harshly at his thick length, letting her whispers drift against him, letting her eyelashes flutter at his cheek, letting her hair fall against his nose where she knew it would fill his senses. The sounds he was making--keening, needy cries, sighing moans of abject craving for her--were kindling low heat in her belly, between her spread thighs, the lips of her cunt in the tiny bikini pressing harshly into the denim, rubbing into her clit, stoking her arousal. Gonna make you come, rich boy. Gonna make you come hard for me. You’re mine, aren’t you? You’re my beautiful baby, aren’t you, Dunny? Your come is for me, your beauty all for me, your moans for me, your big hard cock is for me--

“Yes, fuck, yes, fucking yes, Kenzie, I’m yours, my cock is yours, every part of me is yours, uhmm, please, fucking please, fuck--you’re so lovely, I can’t stand it, you smell so fucking lovely, uhh, unnnh--”

Kenzie spread her legs out further, easing herself backwards off Duncan’s lap as she continued to flit her hand up and down his hard cock--he let go of her reluctantly, his face raw with yearning, and she slid down onto her knees between his legs stretched out on the bed, bringing them together tightly so the denim rode up into the lips of her cunt, the pressure of the soft bikini fabric against her clit, her head dipped down in front of him. She willed more spit from the back of her throat and let it drip in a long slaver from her lips onto the head of his cock, her fingers dipping up to the head of him again to ease it insistently down. She could see his thighs shuddering, his hands reaching into her hair again, tangling there, pulling, burying themselves as if he never wanted to let go again. Then, finally, Kenzie dipped her mouth onto him, swirling her tongue around the hole at the tip of his cock, and her eyes came up to watch his head tilt back, watch his aching loveliness inside her ministrations. She dipped further down, remembering to open her throat to him, taking him entirely into her as she had when they went to the beach house--she didn’t gag this time, but her eyes immediately began to water, and she tried to breathe in but realized he blocked her airway entirely this way. Drool dripped down from her stretched lips, pooling into his balls, and Duncan’s hands were pressing her head down onto him, his cries lifting--his hips bucked so Kenzie’s lips fell to the shaft of him, and tears drifted down her cheeks. Kenzie thought of the way he’d fucked her ass last night, his thickness filling her to the point where her mind seemed to untether, and she imagined him inside her ass now, wishing he could fill both ends of her at once.

“Fuck, me too, baby, me too, fucking fuck Kenzie, baby, you feel so amazing, I love your little throat so much--” and his hand drifted down to grip her neck. “I love holding you in this spot, love choking you into white-gold thoughts--” and Kenzie knew he meant the way her mind looked to him when he pressed his fingers there, the color of her thoughts under the ecstasy of his hands. His eyes seemed to go darker as she glanced into them, and she pressed an insistent hand into his thigh, easing herself back--Duncan let go of her throat and she lifted up, gasping air through her nose as his length slid out of her throat, the head of him still resting against her tongue. She nodded into him now, sucking greedily at him, her fingers coming down to grip along the bottom of his balls. Come in my mouth, Prince. Give me your sweet come. I know how much you want me, I can feel every fiber of it. Your thick cock is mine, my little mouth is yours. Come for me, let me swallow all your desire into me.

Duncan bit down into his lip as Kenzie watched, and for a moment it seemed as though he was on the edge of tears, his face crumpling into a wince that shook her with its loveliness, and then she felt the warm thickness of his come flooding her mouth, felt the intensity of his shuddering into the cavity of her mouth, coating her tongue, splashing down her throat. It was sweet this time--fruits and chocolate, she thought. Beloved Dionysus. Dunny, baby, oh, baby. She let her mouth dip down one more time, let some of his come slide down the side of his shaft before lowering herself to suck it clean--and then Duncan was pulling her up, pulling her head away from his cock insistently, hungrily claiming her lips with his open mouth, sucking at them, tasting, nibbling at her. The sun was finally rising in earnest now--one of its beams scattered along the bed as they tasted at each other, and Kenzie’s heart was hammering rapidly, the sweet taste of his come still on her tongue, the woodsy-musk of his scent filling her head.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispered into her, and they were both smiling--smiling with earnest contentment, Kenzie sending drifts of her golden affection against him, feeling the cool blue of him swirl back into her. Her heart felt suddenly too full, the tears not yet dried on her cheeks; Duncan was kissing her again, gathering her against him in his lap again, whispering “I love you, good morning, I love you angel--” until she couldn’t help but laugh, giggling against him as his breath tickled on her neck, dipping her arms around his neck. To be with you, just to be with you, my heart’s going to just burst, I never knew anything could be so perfect, so right.

“I wanna go swim in the lake and eat blackberries in the shade, baby,” she said into his ear. “Let’s go fuck under the trees, in the flowers. I’m gonna make some coffee.” She tried to lift away from him but Duncan grasped her at the dip under her shoulder blades, mouth clashing into her, still hungry. “Dunny, I mean it, you need to get ready, you’re being fucking naughty--” “Yes, yes I am--” and he was biting along her neck, moving his hand down to press into the dip of her ass, a reminder of yesterday, and Kenzie yelped against him, struggling, jabbing her fingers into his torso and making him twist in tickling surprise as she tumbled out of his lap, laughing again.

“You did it to yourself! You tempted the tickler!” she called back as she rolled off the bed, running away from him, and Kenzie could hear his frustrated laugh as she escaped on bare feet. She went to the cupboard and brought down two of the glass mugs, starting the Keurig under one, then going to the fridge and pulling out a mango and a grapefruit, using one of Duncan’s bamboo cutting boards and kanso knives to slice them open, getting down two plates and putting half on each, getting two of Adelaide’s little silver spoons for the grapefruit, cutting the mango halves into checkered squares, discarding the hard center. Kenzie blew on the coffee, setting the other mug under the Keurig for Duncan, taking a careful sip. Perfect. Today will be perfect because I will it. I’m going to push my love out of me and let it fall over everything. I’m going to manifest my love into the world and mold my surroundings into loveliness.

She set her mug down on the island, lifting the sweetness of the mango to her lips, relishing its succulent taste--then she went to the cupboard and brought down a Waterford glass, dipping it under the faucet and pouring a splash into each of her succulents along the window, making a mental note to ask Anchaly to have the housekeepers check on them in a few days. Kenzie looked out the kitchen’s sunny, wide window to the clusters of trees and streets and the outline of the historic Colonial houses of Georgetown stretching far away and far below, sunlight spilling into the long steel sink, the sky almost impossibly blue with only the tiniest hint of cloud wisps scattered in it. I think when we come back, I’ll be different somehow. I have this feeling like--like I’ll know something important about myself that I didn’t know before.

Kenzie looked down into her hands at the mango--then she turned with a strange feeling, setting the mango down on the counter, and glanced back at the grapefruit half she’d left on her plate on the island. She hesitated, dipping a hand over the wave of her hair and tucking it behind her ear--then she sent the gold tendrils of her--of my spirit, my will, she knew--out to it. Come here. Into my hand.

Kenzie blinked, once, twice; then she felt a surge, as though she’d sent out a hook into the air, and then there was a heavy feeling, of the hook burying itself into the soft flesh of the grapefruit skin--and then she was blinking down in her hands as the dimpled weight of the fruit’s cool surface pressed there. Somehow. Impossibly. I made it move into my hand. And I KNEW I could do that. I knew that somehow. It’s impossible--but no less impossible than anything else that’s been happening to us lately. Hearing each other’s thoughts. Duncan finding me just by feeling for me. Duncan moving himself across a room with his mind. Me pressing my gold into people, healing them, pushing Marissa away with my mind. No less impossible. And yet.

Kenzie looked up from the fruit clutched in her palms--Duncan was coming into the kitchen, moving around the island to press a soft kiss against her hair, reaching for his coffee. He was wearing a slim-fit, short sleeve button-down in very dark navy, the top button undone, giving him a much more relaxed look than his usual fully-buttoned seriousness, and slim-cut, tight-fitting jersey shorts that came only to his upper thigh with a tying waist in washed, neutral black. His hair was now damp and towel-mussed from the shower, but to an unaccustomed eye (my eye is becoming accustomed, Kenzie couldn’t help but note with vague satisfaction), it seemed deliberately styled. He looks, Kenzie thought, so fucking perfect. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d be so fucking annoyed with him for looking so fucking good so early in the morning.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmured to her softly, taking a sip, then looked at her with some concern as he noticed her eyes, the dumbfounded expression on her face. “What? What is it?”

“I--Duncan. I just moved this grapefruit--” she held the half up to him, its pink interior dipping in her palm, “from the island, into my hand. From across the room.”

“Huh.” Duncan looked down at it, frowning, then moved to the island, brushing her arm a little with his fingers as he stepped away from her, the Cartier bracelet sliding down his wrist. He looked down at the plate she’d made for him, then back up at her, setting his coffee cup down.

“Try to move the other one, baby.”

Kenzie put the half of the grapefruit in her hand down on the counter beside her mango, then stared, concentrating, at the half on Duncan’s plate. Come to me. Into my hand. She dipped her palm down, fingers crooked--then sent the tendrils of gold out of her again, as she knew she could. There was a pause, then the hooking sensation again; and then Duncan was whispering “oh, fuck,” as Kenzie blinked down at her hand again in surprise. The dimpled weight of the grapefruit was now pressing there. She’d done it again.

“What the fuck,” she said, staring up at him. “How the fuck did I do that?”

“Fuck, Kenz, I don’t know, but for a second it sort of wobbled, then it zipped through the air into your hand like a shot. It was so quick. You blinked and you missed it. But it did.”

Kenzie felt dizzy for a moment, and she suddenly dropped the grapefruit half to the floor--Duncan hurried over to her, reaching out to grip her under her arms. “Kenzie, baby, are you okay? Do you feel dizzy again, like you did last night--after you sent Marissa went away?”

“A little,” she whispered, and Duncan was pressing her back against the counter, reaching behind her for a glass (this one had sunflowers on it, from the set the peony glass belonged to) and filling it from the filtered tap, holding it up to her. Kenzie clutched it with a hand she noticed was now shaking, taking a long drink as Duncan leaned down to pick up the grapefruit.

“You can do extraordinary things, Kenzie,” he murmured to her softly. His eyes were so blue--she felt dizzy again just looking up at him, dizzy with how lovely he was in the sunlight. “I have this feeling, baby. This feeling like--like when we come back--”

“Yes,” she was whispering against him, his hands coming around to her elbows, thumbs caressing the sleeves of her golden-yellow shirt. “We’ll be different. We’ll know things about each other--we’ll know.”

They both fell silent--it was all Kenzie could do to look into his face, so radiant with beauty, so full of love for her, tinged with hope and vague apprehension. The worries from the last few days were fading from his mind, she could feel it; pushed away by the more pressing knowledge that was the thing approaching them swiftly on the horizon, whatever it is. It has to do with me being able to move things. It has to do with us hearing each other’s thoughts, baby. It has to do with you finding me last night. Whatever we find out, it’s going to explain this. It’s going to show us what all of this means.

Duncan was nodding, his blue eyes burning like flame on her. “I’m not afraid, Kenzie. Not with you by my side.”

Kenzie felt her lip trembling. No, baby. I’m not afraid either. Just moved beyond words inside the vastness of everything I can feel is on its way. Thank the goddess--I have you. Inside your love, I fear nothing.

----------

An hour later, they were almost ready to leave for the cabin. Kenzie had begun to feel effervescently happy as they packed the picnic basket and two sleek white Yeti coolers with a vast array of fresh fruits (grapes, pears, honeycrisp apples, a huge pineapple, more mangos and grapefruits, little clementines, raspberries, blackberries and cherries) and vegetables (tomatoes, spring lettuce, avocados, celery sticks, mini sweet peppers, baby carrots, little cucumbers), sandwich fixings (turkey, cold chicken, tempeh, sliced swiss and provolone), a carton of organic eggs and a butcher’s wrap of turkey bacon, several hunks of artisan cheese (gouda, brie, havarti), jars of olives, tiny gherkin pickles, round rice and wheat crackers, sprouted bread, cream cheese, hummus, tortilla chips, pico de gallo, and an assortment of nuts and trail mix, granola bars, greek yogurt, almond milk, orange juice, lots of coffee k-cups and a bag of ground espresso beans; Duncan assured her there was a Keurig and an espresso machine at the cabin. Something tells me this cabin isn’t quite a cabin, Kenzie thought. The picnic basket had four bottles of red wine, the cooler had three each of rose and white, a bottle of Stoli, a bottle of bourbon, Pellegrinos, lime La Croix, organic ginger ale, and fresh limes and lemons. Duncan had also packed a half ounce of blue-strain weed and a gold-leaf weed pipe that Kenzie had demanded to admire for a moment before she’d give it back to him. Still discovering each other’s little secrets, she’d thought.

“There’s this little general store pretty close to the cabin, too, so we don’t need to pack enough for the entire time--we can go there during the day if we need anything,” he told her, setting the striped buckling blanket--the one they’d taken to the Cape Cod house--the lovely quilts, and the box that held the fireside cooking kit Kenzie had ordered beside the cooler and the picnic basket in front of the penthouse door. Kenzie had hauled her rolling red Kenneth Cole suitcase out of the side-closet in the walk-in where she’d placed it, after moving all her things to the penthouse--she’d had it since Georgetown, a gift from her Abadaba before she passed away, but it was holding up nicely. Inside it she carefully organized enough clothing for a week, almost all of it new (two cardigans: Duncan’s black Brooks Brothers’, and a new long gray one with large buttons and slits at the sides, a long button-down short-sleeved dress the color of sunflower petals, a short pink babydoll dress with long sleeves and roses prints along its hem, a tiny white cotton summer mini dress with a plunging neckline, a black flowing v-neck wrap dress with a buckle at the waist, a rust-colored, strapped mini dress with the sides cut-out, a pair of short-coveralls in light blue denim, a crop top with banded straps and white embroidery, a gray top with extra long sleeves, an ankle-length flowing linen dress with roses printed all over it), several pairs of sandals (her strappy beige, a new pair of black boot sandals) and her brown Timberland hiking boots (she’d only worn them once--on the trip with Claire last August). Kenzie tucked the velvet ribbon, her egg and plug, the rose choker, and Duncan’s cock ring into the suitcase as well, alongside both pairs of her Agent Provocateur lingerie, her little black kimono, her satin pyjamas, the oversized Led Zeppelin tee and lots of clean underwear. She only packed one bra--and I don’t plan on wearing it at all, she thought defiantly. Wild and free with my lover in the woods, and I can’t fucking wait. Fuck bras.

As she packed Duncan did the same alongside her--his suitcase was Prada (and decidedly more expensive than my banged-up one from Bed, Bath and Beyond, Kenzie thought), made of some kind of tech fabric with leather trim, and black, of course. She stole glances at him, eyes lovingly falling down his form, his eyes meeting hers every now and then when they caught each other staring--Kenzie watched the concentrated squint of his face, his hand drifting thoughtfully to his bottom lip, the fitted perfection of his clothing, the coiled strength in his arms, the fine hair on his legs to his large feet, now in black ankle socks, the soft dip of his hair on his forehead as he leaned into his drawers, pulling out several pairs of fitted and relaxed black chinos, black leather Nike hiking boots, the Armani sandals he’d worn to Yarmouth, black swim trunks, another short-sleeved button-down Oxford like the one he was wearing right now, a Nike club hoodie, another hoodie that zipped, more pairs of black jersey shorts, two jersey tee shirts--black, all black, and a single long-sleeved navy cotton flannel, along with at least ten pairs of the black briefs he always wore, and a dozen pairs of black moisture-wicking socks. He pushed through his hangers and Kenzie’s eyes fell on a black short-sleeved Oxford with earth-tone feathers printed all over it--”Bring that one, baby,” she said. “I like that one.”

He turned to her, smiling. “Whatever you want, Princess Kenzie.”

Kenzie was putting some of her jewelry (her rose quartz, the tiny rose-gold moon, her triple-moon pendant with the black obsidian) in a little travel pouch she usually used for it, and smiled with satisfaction at his answer. “Yep, that’s right.” She pulled the new black Vans onto her feet, skipping away from him to the bathroom, feeling his eyes following her all the way, the drift of his thoughts: Kenzie, my sweet Kenzie, my little shooting star, my firefly, I want to kiss your hair, your cheeks, your feet, the sweet space between your legs...she gripped toiletries in her fingers, calling out to him: “What do you need from in here, baby? I can bring it to you.” But she realized he was coming up behind her then, his long hands drifting around her under her breasts, his mouth coming to her neck.

“We need to get going, baby,” she laughed, twisting out of his arms, her toothbrush, mascara, eyeliner and tube of deodorant slipping out of her hands at his insistent touch; they scattered against the sink. She gave him a facetious look of annoyance and he grinned at her. “Later, okay? Stop being so naughty. We have a three hour drive ahead of us.”

Duncan groaned at the ceiling. “Don’t remind me, Kenz. I haven’t driven a car for that long in...probably at least two years.”

“We can take turns. I still drive Momby around in her old Jeep sometimes, so honestly I’m more used to a stickshift at this point. But I have a quick memory.”

“My little Kenzie driving a stickshift. That’s just sexy.”

Kenzie snorted. “Not if you saw it. There’s nothing sexy about that car. It’s like the old donkey of cars. That G-Class is sexy, though.” He bit his lip at that. You’re fucking sexy, baby. Nothing else is compared to you. He tried to grab her again and she skittered away, laughing nervously.

“Did Madeline get home okay last night?” Duncan was pulling several black Prada toiletry bags out of a bottom drawer under the sink, holding one open to Kenzie to put her things into--she smiled up at him and saw the melting expression in his eyes as he hovered over her. She took the bag from him and his hand immediately drifted into her hair.

“Yeah, she was fine. She told me to tell you she hopes we have a good time. I was thinking, baby--I think I’m going to turn my phone off during the trip. I’ll bring it, but I might not turn it back on until we get back. Unless there’s an emergency.”

“You know what, babe--that’s a great idea. I’m gonna do that too.” Duncan pulled his black iPhone out of his back pocket, holding down the side button, swiping the power off. He slid it back into his pocket, palm falling against her cheek.

“I can’t wait to be there alone with you. Kenzie. I can’t wait to show you everything.You’re going to love it so much.”

“I love you so much,” and she grinned up at him, hand coming against his on her face, cherishing the warmth of it. He leaned to kiss her but she slipped away, her mind humming with mischief towards him.

“No more kisses till we get to the cabin, baby. That’s the new rule.”

“Ugh, Kenzie, that’s hours from now--” and his expression was enough to drive her to the edge of immediately recanting, but Kenzie crossed her arms, turning her chin up in mock severity.

“Then you better hurry up, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie gave him a prim look and slipped away from him to the closet, retrieving a tote bag from her drawers--it was midnight blue and had a pattern of white celestial suns and moons, tiny stars glowing in the background. Kenzie went back to the kitchen and put the ghost story books and Duncan’s childhood mythology book in it, then she stepped into the study, moving to Duncan’s bookcases--she couldn’t resist looking back at The Youth of Bacchus for a long moment, lost in its ethereal beauty. I could kiss it, I love it so. She turned back to the bookcase, searching through his meticulously organized library--organized first by subject, then by author, alphabetically. Astronomy/astrology, she found near the top of the first shelf, and hummed with frustration--I’m too short to reach.

“Dunny! Come help me! And bring me the books on the nightstand, please?” She cupped a hand around her mouth and shouted through to the bedroom. Duncan appeared a moment later, Jane Eyre and The Golden Compass under his arm. “What’s this one about?” He asked, holding the second aloft.

“I haven’t started it yet, but I think it’s about parallel universes or something? I think that’s what the synopsis said.” He passed them to her, fingers clutching at her as she put them in the tote, trying to kiss her again. She deftly avoided him, loving the tiny frustrated sounds he made, the pained longing in his sky-colored eyes. “Baby, help me reach a stargazing book. That one up there, Backyard Guide to the Night Sky.” Duncan went to reach for it, then stopped, smiling at her vexingly. His hair looks so perfect. His skin is so beautiful. He is so fucking beautiful.

“Kiss me first.”

“Hey, I thought I said--”

“Please, baby. Please? Just one...little...kiss. Please, Miss Stone. I beg you.” Duncan was dipping his face (fuck he’s so beautiful, fuck, I can’t get past it, I can’t stop admiring him, he just doesn’t seem real sometimes, it’s like I made him up in my head, how can I resist him) down to her, his fingers drifting down the sides of her waist, and she tried for another long moment, tried to fight it, but then his hands were cupping along the bottom of her ass, dragging her against him, and her mouth was opening to him, and she thought fuck it, I love you so much--and his tongue was teasing into hers and she sighed and thought fuck we’re never gonna get to that cabin at this rate and he pushed her against the bookcase, fingers coming up to her hair and under her ear, pulling her insistently into him, and he tasted like the mango and bitter coffee and smelled like rain on cedar wood--

“Okay, baby--” she tried to pull away and he captured her lips again, moaning into her softly, “Dunny--you got your kiss, get that book for me--”

“I love you.”

“I know you do.”

“I love you, Kenzie.”

“I know, you dipshit, I fucking love you too.” She stuck her tongue out at him, but Duncan wasn’t deterred--he pressed his nose against hers, drifting it from side to side, then leaned back to stare at her. His eyes were like clouds reflecting a blue sea; he could see into her mind, she knew, feel the rosy adoration there for him. Just for you, Duncan Shepherd, and only for you, and you fucking know it. You know you’re the One, the only One, exalted in my eyes, beloved. He stared at her for another long moment (divine goddess, she heard, princess of heaven)--then, not without a marked disappointment, reached his long arm up to the shelf and brought the book down for her.

“It’s time to go, baby,” she whispered. “You can kiss me a million times when we get there.”

“Promise?”

“I fucking promise, Prince Duncan. In the long grass. Under the stars.”

-------

It was past 9 when they were finally on the road--Duncan wore his round Yves sunglasses, the smooth glide of the G-Class’ steering wheel drifting under his elegant hand; he was pressing one of his black Puma suede sneakers (Kenzie was amused to note it was the first time she’d ever seen him wear sneakers of any kind, but these were undoubtedly Duncan-style) on and off the gas pedal impatiently, starting and stopping in the Arlington traffic on the way to the Maryland highway.

They’d packed everything neatly in the trunk and along the backseat; Kenzie’s eyes gazed over her dark red roses affectionately, the gold vase carefully tucked into a basket that rested in the middle of the backseat, held steady between the two coolers and the picnic basket. A bellhop had appeared upstairs to help with a cart after Duncan had called downstairs on the intercom, so it hadn’t taken long. It was everything else that took awhile, Kenzie thought, thinking of Duncan’s hot, insistent kisses--she glanced over at him, saw him glancing between her and the road, looked away, smiling into her hand, her own round sunglasses shielding her eyes from him. She took another bite of a half-eaten chocolate-peanut butter Luna bar in her other hand, and flipped the Sirius XM on as Duncan merged onto I-270, heading north--Kenzie had waved as they’d driven past Madeline’s neighborhood a few minutes before, murmuring “hi Momby, bye Momby,” under her breath. Duncan had glanced at her, and she saw his endeared smile. Kenzie found the electronic station from last night, rolling the window down--the day wasn’t quite as hot as it would be later, yet, and there was a delicious summer wind. A sultry feminine voice drifted through the speakers as Duncan hit the highway, pressing his foot fully down on the gas now--Kenzie’s heart drifted up, and she sighed deeply, relief flowing through her. She reached for Duncan’s hand and he grasped her fingers, eye on the road. I can feel your heart lift too, baby. We’re escaping.

I’mma swallow all these diamonds, I’mma make you proud--you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest...chain me up, trap me in gold, you’re my king, I gotta have you close--

God, this sounds like it’s about us, Kenzie thought shyly into him, and she could see him biting into his lip, his thumb drifting across to her knee. It does, doesn’t it. She twined her fingers into his there, loving the weight of him, the warm halo of his touch, the smooth drift of the car, the cool smell of new leather in its interior. The wind was whipping her hair against her neck, the sun hovering a quarter of the way into the sky, the temperature still in the merciful upper 70’s, and according to the GPS, traffic was minimal all the way to the lake. Kenzie laid her head back into the seat, sighing contentedly.

Pick me up and go, no I don’t wait don’t wait for no one, you gotta pick me up and go, no I don’t wait don’t wait don’t wait no, I’mma glow with or without you, two mil’ in my system I’mma swallow all these diamonds never spit ‘em out…

“I’m gonna jump head-first into the lake as soon as we get there,” Kenzie was murmuring to Duncan, her eyes drifting closed behind her sunglasses in the comfort of this moment. “Let’s go swimming, then eat lunch, then fuck all afternoon--”

“Holy fuck, Kenz--that sounds perfect. Wait till you see the water, today is exactly the kind of day I was talking about, where the sky reflects on it and everything is so clear and blue--”

“Like your eyes, baby,” Kenzie felt sleepy suddenly, sleepy with the depth of the peace she felt, the half-eaten granola bar falling down into her lap from her fingers, her other hand soothed by the slow caress of Duncan’s thumb over her skin. She heard his little scoff, but felt the glowing warmth of his affection, his quiet acknowledgement that she was right. Yeah. Yes, baby. Like my eyes when I stare at you, and you alone.

“What’s the bedroom like, baby?” She murmured to him, her eyes still closed. The wind felt so miraculously good; she smiled in the cocoon of all of it, the feeling of the sun on her cheek, the pressure of his hand, the electronic pulse of the music from the speakers, only a couple of hours and we’ll be in our own secret paradise.

“I’m assuming you mean the master bedroom, which is where we’ll be sleeping,” she heard Duncan say, his thumb still drifting against her, and Kenzie puzzled at that--what kind of cabin has a master bedroom? Her curiosity burned for a moment at Duncan’s quietness after his statement, then the soothing sensations of the drive were drifting against her again. Might as well just enjoy the ride and see it when we get there. You’re being coy on purpose, baby. Kenzie opened her eyes for a moment, glancing at him. Duncan’s face was placidly beautiful, his sharp jaw striking as he looked toward the road--a remix of Ella Fitzgerald’s Blue Skies now pumped from the speakers--blue skies smiling at me, nothing but blue skies do I see, nothing but blue--and Kenzie thought this is how it feels to be with you.  

Kenzie closed her eyes again, leaning her head back into the seat this time--when she opened them again, she realized she’d fallen asleep. The light had changed, was brighter and coming from directly overhead, the sun no longer streaming into the car from the side. Her neck was aching from the odd position she’d slipped into, her head crooked down onto her shoulder. Duncan looked at her sideways, grinning at her. The road was mostly deserted now but for a Prius driving a yard ahead of them and a slow-moving red Corolla that Duncan passed easily--they were surrounded by trees on either side of the asphalt, and it felt like they were climbing to a slightly higher altitude, the G-Class on the drift of an incline.

“Hi, baby. We’re about half an hour away now.”

“You’re kidding.” Kenzie lifted her arms out, stretching, the sound of her voice decidedly sleep-tinged in her ears. “I slept for two hours?” She glanced up at the dashboard; the digital clock read 11:37.

“It’s okay, baby. Yesterday was a long day--the last few days have been long. It’s all been--you know. Overwhelming. You were tired.”

“I said I was gonna help drive.”

“Kenzie, angel, it doesn’t matter. It went by so fast--it was peaceful. To watch over you. It was soothing, to have some time to think about everything. About...my mother. About Annette, I mean, but about my mother too. My real mother. Whoever she is. Wherever she is.”

“I’m sure Annette knows.” Kenzie reached for Duncan’s hand again and he drifted it out to her, grasping her. He looks so lovely in the memory of his solitude, she thought. I can see how his face must have looked at me as I slept. Oh, baby. How I love you.

“Yeah, I--I’m going to talk to her when we get back. I decided I will. There are things I know she knows that she needs to tell me. But for now I think it was enough to just contemplate it. Accept it. That there’s this whole part of me I haven’t known about until now. And it was calming to--to think about you...” Duncan’s head dipped here, his expression shy. To think about how much I love you, about how much I want to marry you, how much I want to know about the thing that’s coming, the hidden thing that’s right on the horizon, the secret thing, the thing that will tell us about each other, why it feels like we’ve always been together, always will be, about the dreams. “And the things that have been happening.”

“I wonder if there are other things we can do. You moved through a room just by thinking about it. I moved objects--I moved a person. I wonder if there are other things. We should try things, I mean--being in the woods alone is the perfect place for us to do weird shit without anyone bothering us,” and he snorted at her, laughing. Kenzie grinned at him, then she was serious again, straightening the smile. “Let’s see if we can figure it out.”

“Okay, baby. Let’s do weird shit.” Duncan was taking his sunglasses off, smiling at her with bemused mischief in his gaze--the oaks and pines gathering overhead and rising along the road were shielding them from the sunlight, and it was shady inside the car now, sunbeams dipping in and out, dancing over his cheeks. But within the playful expression in his face, the trust in his eyes shook her heart; I’d follow you anywhere, to the ends of the earth, to the edge of the universe, Mackenzie Stone. I’d follow you into the darkest abyss. Even that would be heaven, as long as you’re there. A line from Wuthering Heights, a book she’d loved fiercely since high school, drifted into her mind, clashing against his thoughts--if all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger…

“We’re getting really close now,” Duncan said, glancing away from her at the GPS. “Kenzie. I have a confession. I may have been misleading when I called it a cabin. It’s more of a--uhmm. A very large cabin.”

“Duncan.”

He bit into his lip. Turn left here, the GPS chirped, a feminine voice with a British accent. In .2 miles, turn left onto Lakeside Trail. Duncan spun the steering wheel under his long hands, and Kenzie’s eyes drifted to the Cartier bracelet locked to his left wrist, its gold flashing.  It’s me. That bracelet is me, my gold, the chain of us together, the golden thread of us.

“You’ll see. I think it’s..probably...bigger than you might be expecting.”

“Fuck. I forgot. You’re Duncan Shepherd. Playboy billionaire, soon to be CEO and majority shareholder of Shepherd Unlimited. Hot shit.”

“If I’m a playboy, you’re a playgirl. My little playgirl bunny. God, now I’m imagining your centerfold, fuuuuck--”

“Ugh, shut up, god, you’re being naughty today.” Kenzie reached out and pinched his side, hard, and he laughed in surprised pain, shying away from her. “Oww, baby, that fucking hurt.”

“Keep it up and I’m going to fucking spank you next,” Kenzie threatened.

“What if I like it?” He laughed as she jabbed her fingers out again, dancing them along his torso.

“We might just need to test that theory, then, huh baby?”

Duncan didn’t say anything, just continued to smile at her, amused and shy. He turned the SUV down a very long gravel path now, up to a long steel-bar gate with round golden lamps on either side of its entrance. Duncan pulled the car up to a keypad that dipped from an awning at the side, punching a code into it: 070688. His birthday, she thought. His mother’s doing, no doubt. Kenzie continued to drift inside his thoughts--the gates floated open and Duncan reached for her hand again as he put his foot on the gas. I was so used to being dominant with partners before you, baby, she heard him thinking. But I love it when you tell me what to do, and I love to tie you up and worship you, how you let me lead when my desire to is strong, and I loved it when you tied me up too, when you tell me I can’t touch my cock until you say I can, when you told me I couldn’t take my cock ring off, that only you could do it--with us, both are right, both feel right. Giving to you, taking from you, and around and around, like some holy circle we make together. I love it so much. I’d try anything with you. It’s always safe in the drift of your love. I love the way we give to each other endlessly. Nothing in the world could possibly feel more right to me.

Yes, baby, yes, Duncan. Then Kenzie lifted her eyes past the two rows of trimmed crabapple trees that lined the gravel drive--they were covered in red clusters, their very young fruit visible in the dappled sunlight of the late morning. She stifled the gasp that wanted to escape immediately; Duncan clearly heard her sharp intake, however, and glanced at her, his blue gaze hovering between apprehension at any hint of discontent, and an obvious hope for her approval.

This is not a fucking cabin, Duncan Shepherd. This is a fucking lakeside mansion. Kenzie pulled her sunglasses off, squinting at the huge structure that rose before them through the window of the SUV, aware her mouth was hanging open.

“Holy fuck, Duncan,” she whispered.

The cabin, as Duncan had called it, was a two-story sprawling structure, easily beyond 5,000 square feet, made of elegant stacked stone and dark walnut wood, with long, latticed dusky-red windows stretching along every wall of the lower level, giving it a regal romanticism that Kenzie immediately loved. The edges of the roof were slanted, made in dark black oak slatting. There were round string lights hung over every awning, but they were unlit at this hour of the day; Kenzie could only imagine how beautiful they looked at night. The structure’s lower level clearly encompassed more than half a dozen rooms, judging from its length--and a glass-enclosed structure with long wood tables, clearly for group events, was built off the side to Kenzie’s right, a spacious garage next to that. The entirety of the cabin-mansion’s length was enclosed by smooth, decorative white stones, and flowers were planted along the bottom of every window--Kenzie could make out geraniums, marigold, peonies and gardenia. There was a path to the left, surrounded by pines, and down it Kenzie could see a triangular-shaped, elegant white-wood gazebo built in the center of blooming hydrangeas. Inside the gazebo was a long wicker outdoor couch surrounded by flower pots with dozens of pillows, more of the round string lights hung about the eaves, and a long, low drink table with a decorative lantern. A long wooden swing hung nearby from a huge, sturdy oak that looked like it was at least a hundred years old. Beyond that, Kenzie could make out the long stretch of luscious water, indeed reflecting the blue of the summer sky with striking clarity--just as Duncan had promised. The lake. There was a long deck that extended from the shore, and a canoe tied to it with a length of rope, bobbing in the small tide. And I haven’t even seen the backyard yet.

Duncan had brought the SUV to a stop, pressing the smart key; the engine faded into silence. He reached a hand out to her, and she looked at him; is it okay, baby? His eyes searched her face, his mouth opening slightly towards her.

“Okay? Baby. This is like...oh my god. This is fucking paradise.” Kenzie felt tears begin to prick at her eyelids--she fought to keep them back, but it was all so wonderful, so much bigger than her, the vastness of the loveliness of him, of this, washing over her in a suffocating crash. Could this all be a dream, she thought once more. All of it, the last few weeks, my life utterly changed by you forever, my love, the magick inside us now, the magick that kisses every corner of my mind, every corner of our lives, tied together now, the beauty of everything, and you--you, so wildly beautiful, so tender to me in every instance, you, impossibly wonderful, impossibly perfect for me, and yet somewhere defiantly possible--please tell me, if it is a dream, that I’ll never wake up, that I’ll sleep for all of time inside this extraordinary, resplendent dream of you, my dearest love, Duncan--

“Kenzie. Angel. Don’t cry. You’re gonna make me--cry--” Duncan’s voice broke, and she saw the tiniest tremble in his lips, watched the clouded sky of his eyes flicker, resonate with the emotion she could feel from him like a swirling gust of wind; Kenzie, in an instant, threw her arms around him over the middle of the car seats, burying her face in his neck, the tears coming now, no way she could stop them, a little shuddering sob escaping from her. Duncan was pulling her easily into his lap, tucking her short legs over to his thighs so they fell down between the space between his bare knees, the smoothness of her skin brushing his prickly calves, her body pressing flush against his, the denim of her tiny shorts against the soft jersey of his crotch. The warmth and the scent of him--wood, jasmine--overwhelmed her more; you are no dream, my love, you never were and I know it, the time before you was a dream, the time without you when I’m away from you is a dream, and you are the only real thing in all the world. The love I feel in your arms is the only reality.

“I just--getting to be here with you, alone--fuck, baby, I’m just--”

“I know, Kenz, I know, baby. I can’t stand it either. God, I love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking happy, Kenzie. I feel like my heart’s just going to fucking stop--”

“No fucking way. If it does, I’ll bring you back to life.” She was pulling her face away from his neck, the tears stinging her cheeks; she saw the glitter of the tears in his too before she opened her mouth against his; he cradled her low, dipping his head over her, his arm clutching at the band of her top under her breast, along the rise of her ribs, his Cartier bracelet burying into her hair, gold on tawny gold. She felt one of his tears fall down onto her cheek, sliding to pool at her throat, and Kenzie brought her fingers to his face, wiping them away as he tasted her lips with aching slowness.

Duncan, I love you. With...with every part of myself. With everything I have. He was nodding into her, his soft, entreating sounds making her feel as though she were vibrating, enveloped by him. They clutched each other for awhile; the peaceful sounds of the birds, the wind, the lake splashing far off, the rustling of the trees--that was their music. It held them, drifting into the car windows, surrounded them, made them a bed for a long moment, let them lay together inside it as they tasted each other, as their tears calmed, as Kenzie wandered away from the feeling of tears, into a heady desire for him, an abundant joy. She pulled back, her hand on his bristly jaw.

“I wanna go inside, baby. I wanna see everything and then I wanna go fucking swimming and eat lunch with you and fuck you in every fucking room and out in the grass, under the trees--”

“Kenzie, fuck, baby, we get to be here for days--fuck, I can’t believe it, I’m so fucking happy--”

Kenzie grinned and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his mouth--Duncan’s words bled away as he kissed her there, lips open, his thoughts rosy with her, her mind brimming over with the gold she felt for him; for the gold is my love, and it always has been. It’s me giving the best of myself to him, because I love him. I love you, Duncan. I always will. The gold is the everlasting promise of my love.

“Baby, let’s go. Show me everything.” Kenzie leaned over and pulled the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open with one Vans-clad foot. Duncan helped her to the ground as she slid out of his lap, his grip steady, but very tender. He slid out after her, his chest pressing into the back of her hair for a moment, his mouth kissing down on the crown of her head. Kenzie went into the backseat, grasping the golden vase that held her roses with careful fingers--this will be the first thing to go inside, the token of his love for me. Duncan grasped one of the coolers and easily hoisted it in his arms, crooking his head towards the big front double-doors made of more sturdy dark walnut. He nodded to his thigh, eyes lifting to her.

“Kenz, get the keys out of my pocket, will you?”

Kenzie gently reached into the jersey shorts, staring into his face as she did, being sure to let her fingers brush against the length of his cock as she dipped her fingers into the pocket; he shivered, biting into his lip, sending a wanton promise into her. You’re gonna get fucked, baby. I’m gonna fuck you in the wild woods under the stars, in the big fuck off bed, in the bath, fuck, everywhere. I’m gonna rip those little shorts off you and make you fucking scream as loud as you can until you lose your voice and I’m fucking deaf, angel, babylove, Princess.

Kenzie giggled nervously, her face pressing down against her roses, watching his expression morph into one of romantic longing. My queen of roses. Persephone of spring. Kenzie stepped away from him to the doorway, her Vans crunching over the gravel, and unlocked the door with a rustically-styled key--as she stepped inside she groaned, overcome with the loveliness of everything again, Duncan coming up behind her, setting the cooler just inside the door. The interior of the front room was huge, a spacious expanse she could dance across if she wanted to--there were two long couches in the center of the glossy hardwood, a huge, probably priceless dark Persian rug under them. The roof was a wildly erotic charred black--a huge pair of moose antlers were attached to one wall, the Shepherd crest on another with distinct fleur de lis. A huge, life-sized statue of Hermes in a breastplate, smiling good-naturedly, his winged feet obvious, stood in one corner; a naked Aphrodite in another, her long hair fanning out in an invisible wind behind her, her face turned up ecstatically to some unseen delight, her breasts bare. A huge stone-lined fireplace was against the center wall that adjoined with a middle hallway, an opulent black grate across it. Along the wall that faced the backyard there was a huge glass window, looking out on a long deck with a sheltered deck table and a fence, beyond it, covered in more of the round lights, with a locking gate.

“We’re turning all the fairy lights on tonight,” Kenzie said, turning to Duncan. He nodded with a smile; such a beautiful, earnest smile it was. Anything you want, Princess Kenzie. Kenzie could see the fire pit beyond the deck, its huge, coppery circular indentation distinct on an inlay of deep-set brick in the daylight, low wicker lounge chairs in tawny colors surrounding it. Beyond that was woods--dense from the look of them, though there seemed to be a marked path from what she could see from her far position, the lake stretching to the far left, blue-reflecting and wildly inviting. Plenty of time to explore, Kenzie thought. She could feel Duncan’s eyes watching her again and looked up at him, smiling. She set the roses down on a table near the entrance, bringing her hands against the fabric of his button-down, feeling his body beneath it, the coiled strength in him, the desirous tightness that was lingering there. His hands came around to the small of her back, to the bare skin there above the tiny little denim shorts she wore.

“Dunny. I love it so much.”

“Come look at the bedroom. We’ll get the other stuff in a minute.” He clutched her hand, leading her to the hall, then up a huge staircase with a black banister, a chandelier of Swarovski crystals and gold embellishments hanging at the second-floor landing. He pulled her down the wide, darkwood-paneled hall, past several empty guest rooms, one with matte black decor, one with silver, to the end, where a set of double-doors painted with gold leaf around the edges seemed to promise her something exceptional--he pushed them open and Kenzie oooohhhh’d, immediately letting go of him to run to the bed and throw herself onto it--it was so wide she felt immediately lost in the center of it, sinking down into its luxe, gold-embellished feathery spread, laughing in delight, her hair tossing into her eyes, her heart fluttering against the Tiffany moon. There was an opulent, upholstered gold panel at the head of it, and what seemed like a dozen duck feather pillows piled high against it. Silky, sheer white curtains with gold edges hung across huge bay windows along the wall--through them she could glimpse the lake, its serene surface impossibly lovely in the early afternoon streaming in. 

This room was fitted with golden decor at every turn, gold-leaf along the wide dresser and the decorative tables, each with a breathtakingly lovely decorative gold leaf laurel wreath. On one wall hung a painting in an embellished gold frame: Cupid and Psyche, Kenzie knew immediately, her breath catching. In it, Cupid pressed his lips to Psyche’s cheek, her eyes closed in ecstatic repose, his wings, here portrayed as deep purple, the color of ripe grapes, dipping around her naked form, a crown of violets in his curls, curls like Duncan’s. It was wildly lovely, and looking at it made her long for him, as though it were them painted there, not the god of passionate attachment and his lover. She glimpsed a gold-embellished bathroom through a side-door, and what looked like the side of a polished coppery-gold bathtub. She glanced up to Duncan from her prostrate position.

“This is a bed fit for a queen,” Kenzie murmured.

Fuck. I didn’t realize we’d be sleeping in a bed like this. The mere feeling of the silky spread under her bare legs was kindling desirous heat between her legs.This bed is for fucking. This bed is for getting fucked hard by your Prince’s big cock. This golden, feather-soft bed is an altar for his beautiful mouth to worship the space between your legs. This bed is for you to kneel on while you suck him dry, for you to be tied to while he works you out into wordless cries of euphoria. This bed is for you to slave over each other’s bodies, sleep until noon, and then wake up wrapped to each other’s lips, impossibly entwined, sheets tangled in intricate longings, smelling of your need for one another. Duncan was staring, listening to these thoughts from her, his gaze becoming hot and flushed, the blush of his desire spreading over his statuesque beauty.

“Good thing it finally has one in it,” he replied. Duncan had leaned on the door in his familiar tick--his eyes had darkened deeply to storms, his thoughts dipping low into heady lust, the taste of her cunt, the softness of her skin, the nectar she knew he regarded as her mouth, and Kenzie bit her lip, propping herself on her elbows. Come the fuck here and get me, then, King. Come and get your Queen.

Then Duncan was advancing on her, his arms reaching down for her with a determined look in his divinely blue eyes that made her blood freeze, and she was writhing in his strong grip, with his sudden, immediate ardency, the aching softness of the down at her back stirring warmth through her body, in dazzling streaks of sensitivity. Duncan lowered his lips to the moon at her throat, making her gasp (my moon, my moonlight, moon flower, he was thinking) and then he was drifting down to kiss between her ribs at the deep V of her wrapped, sunlight-colored top, down further to kiss her belly button, open-mouthed, his tongue licking out.

“I think,” he whispered, his large, insistent hands at the waistband of her shorts, his mouth drifting to her hipbone over the denim, “That you need to get fucked hard before we do anything else today, Princess Kenzie. I think we need to christen this bed as ours. What do you think?” His hands were pressing into her now, holding her down, drifting up to her throat, holding her against the silky, aching softness of the bed, sensing how it was stirring her, thrilling her, kindling her desire up to a high agitation.

“Uhhhuh,” Kenzie felt absolutely weak to him, lost in his adamant stare, lost in the press of the tips of his fingers, sensing that they were barely containing their powerful grip on her. The bed, the huge house, the lake, the woods--we’re finally here, she thought. And it kindles a wild lust in me, the whisper of Dionysus, urging us to abandon our senses, and fuck each other until we can’t breathe in the middle of the day on this wildly easeful bed that feels like a cloud from heaven. We don’t have anywhere to be. We don’t have to meet with anyone, we don’t have to go to work, to interviews, to see our mothers, to find bodyguards, to go to stupid Galas, to fight off paps, nothing, nowhere. Our phones are off, we’ve disappeared from the world, we’re alone, we’re together, we have days. DAYS. Holy fuck, baby. Holy fucking fuck.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, and she whimpered, long and low, and his mouth was pressing, hot, aching, at her throat, and his devotion was like a knife, and she wanted it plunged deep into her body.

“Oh my fucking goddess, baby--fucking fuck me.”

#body and soul #duckenzie #millory #body and soul au #ahs apocalypse au #house of cards au #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd au #millory au #body and soul fic #body and soul fanfic #duncan shepherd x mackenzie stone #duncan shepherd x mallory #michael x mallory #mackenzie stone #mackenzie shepherd #misslunarayne #duncan x mackenzie #millory fic #duncan shepherd fic #cody x billie au #cody x billie #collie au #cody fern fic #billie lourd fic #cody x billie fic #icouldrun #officialcodysfallenangels #michael langdon x mallory au #house of cards fanfic

[batgirl-87]

Summary: Some members of the Cursed Vaults Gang discuss relationships and dating in lieu of studying. Charlie provides a surprisingly insightful view on the topic that stuns the others and leads Charlie to his own realization and to take a courageous leap of fate.

Word Count: 2,789

Genre: Deleted Scene? Fluff?

Warnings: Lack of Slytherins =(

Playlist: Your Eyes – Rent, They Were You – The Fantasticks, Black Butterflies and Déjà Vu – The Maine, Symphony – Clean Bandit feat. Zara Larsson, Dakota – The Rocket To The Moon

Note: Takes place during January of Sixth Year, an excerpt from my series of Charlie and Keira figuring out their relationship, done before Charlie confesses his feelings. (I will link that fic once it’s posted).

* Written, honestly, to ease my own insecurities on the pace in which I am writing Charlie and my MC’s relationship. After reading so many great fics by others about their MCs reuniting with Charlie after graduation, I couldn’t help but worry I was progressing things too quickly. I also enjoy a slowburn (who doesn’t?!) and want to make sure I build up their connection and relationship enough that their relationship progression is appropriate and realistic – like, it’s about time! And I started this at their first kiss and have started going back writing moments between them before that to hopefully set the relationship more between them but I still have insecurities about it, like maybe I should have more pining even after the Ball and not have them get together until Seventh Year… Anyway, so that’s really the reason for this piece, to sort of help me feel better about what I’m doing. (Idk if it’s working =p) *

I sat down and wrote this out in a couple hours in one sitting and did a quick edit but please excuse any errors (I was excited to have that motivation to just sit and write something out nonstop!) – there’s going to be a lot of the same words repeated/used and probably shifts in tenses, sorry.

“There you guys are!” Penny set her book bag down on the floor before swinging her leg over the bench to join her friends at their study table in the Great Hall. “I thought when you suggested a study sessions you meant in the library,” she explained as she began taking out her books and notes from her bag and placed them on the table in front of her. “I’ve been searching the entire library for you guys, walking up and down all the rows, looking everywhere you.” She even sounded a little out of breath.

“Well the original plan was the library,” Andre began before looking up from his textbook and giving a pointed look to the pink haired Hufflepuff on the other side of the table, “But someone got us kicked out by Madam Pince.”

“Is it my fault she can’t take a joke,” Tonks asked innocently with a shrug.

“You can only push someone so far,” Charlie lightly lectured his prankster friend since First Year who sat next to him.

“Well at least here we can talk without someone constantly hushing us,” Tonks pointed out. “If I have a question about Potions I would like to be able to ask the Potions Master herself,” she said, motioning to Penny across from her.

“Where’s Keira, Rowan, and Barnaby,” Penny asked as she glanced along the table, possibly in an attempt to change the subject so they wouldn’t keep arguing about getting kicked out of the library.

“Quidditch practice,” Charlie answered, possibly sounding a little bit disappointed.

If there was any hint of disappointment in his voice, Andre picked up on it. “Yes, we didn’t think Charlie would join us after finding that out,” he teased with a smirk.

“We just got back to talking and hanging out again, I just want to get things back to normal,” Charlie tried to explain. After not speaking or being around Keira for about two months and finally getting over that incident didn’t it make sense for him to be eager to get their friendship back to where it was before?

“What does that mean, exactly,” Andre asked curiously, watching his fellow Quidditch aficionado closely.

“What do you mean ‘what does that mean’,” Charlie asked quizzically, staring back at the Ravenclaw across the table from him.

“I mean, what is normal for you guys now?” Andre clearly found this conversation much more interesting than studying.

Charlie shrugged. “You know, like we were before. Where we could all study together, go to Hogsmeade, and hang out without any awkwardness or having to strategically dodge each other, I can help again with the Cursed Vaults – you know, back to being friends again.”

“Friends, huh,” Andre repeated with a slightly devious grin.

“Andre,” Penny said in a small warning tone.

“What? They’ve been dancing around this for long enough, don’t you think? Speaking of dance,” Andre started before quickly turning his attention back to the Gryffindor, “Didn’t you guys kiss at the ball last year?”

“Andre!” Penny couldn’t believe he brought that up so candidly but guess that was Andre. “That’s a personal, private matter between them.” The Hufflepuff was doing her best to help Charlie out who seemed completely in shock by Andre bringing that memory up – he didn’t even know they all knew that! And he doubted Keira told them so how did they know? Were they spying on them?

“I’m just trying to help them figure out their feelings for each other and their relationship,” Andre defended. “Aren’t you tired of them always making eyes at each other? They clearly fancy each other, just snog already and get it over with.”

“What makes you think they’ll stop making eyes at each other if they start dating,” Penny retaliated with a smirk.

“Plus it could make studying together really awkward if they’re snogging,” Tonks chimed in.

Charlie could feel his whole face heating up as they continued.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to snog her anyway, maybe he’s just admiring her beauty, like a piece of art. You don’t want to snog a painting,” Penny pointed out.

“No, he definitely wants to,” Andre stated. “Why would they kiss at all if they didn’t want to?”

“To determine if they want to do it more or not,” Penny reasoned.

They were talking about him like he wasn’t even there. Maybe he could sneak away….

“Well, do you want to do it again,” Andre suddenly asked him bluntly.

“Andre,” Penny cried again before smacking him in the arm with some of her notes.

“What? If you want to know the answer to something, ask. And he’s right here,” Andre told her, motioning to the tomato red Gryffindor across from him.

“Their relationship is between them,” Penny scolded.

“Penny, we’re friends. We’re going to be in each other’s business and relationships. Who are you going to turn to when the person you’re dating upsets you? Or if you need help getting them a gift for their birthday or planning something for you anniversary? You’re going to talk to your friends about your relationship,” Andre informed her. “And we’re here to help,” he added, turning his attention again to Charlie.

“Well then maybe we should be discussing someone else’s relationship then,” Penny reasoned, throwing a glance at the poor Gryffindor boy who looked completely humiliated and was hoping if he wished hard enough he would magically teleport himself anywhere else but there – too bad they hadn’t learn to apparate yet.

“Like yours? What happened between you and your date to the ball last year,” Andre asked, Charlie breathing out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in, relieved the attention was off of him, if even for a moment.

“We had a lovely time, thank you,” Penny informed him as she straightened out her notes.

“And… that’s it? Nothing grew from it,” Andre prodded.

“If you’re asking me if I’m dating anyone the answer is no, I’m not. Not everyone dates around a lot like you,” the Hufflepuff added with a smirk. “When was your first date? Third Year?”

Penny’s teasing didn’t seem to faze Andre in the least. “It’s true, not everyone can be as alluring as me.”

Penny rolled her eyes but smiled slightly as Andre complimented and flattered himself. She flipped open one of her textbooks, assuming they could get to studying for their O.W.L.s now.

“Do you think dating a lot of people is a bad thing,” Andre suddenly asked her, causing Penny to pause a moment and think.

“No, I don’t think it’s a bad thing, But you might need to ask yourself why you date so many people and go through these relationships so quickly. Like, do you even like these people? Maybe you have commitment issues –“

“Maybe I’m just enjoying being young and having fun and taking in all my options. I mean, I don’t want to be one of those people who only dates one person and marries their high school sweetheart or something,” Andre explained, making a somewhat disgusted face.

“What’s wrong with that? I think it’s sweet,” Penny said with a slight sparkle in her eye.

Andre couldn’t help but scoff slightly. “I think we’re too young to be settling down with one person for the rest of our lives.”

“I don’t think you agree to go out with someone planning on being with them the rest of your lives. But if that happens, that’s great,” Penny said with a shrug. “Don’t know if they’re someone you want to be with until you get to know them better and you do that by going out with them. Not by hooking up with them like some people do,” she explained, giving Andre another look who just smirked devilishly.

“Wouldn’t you feel cheated though? Like you missed out on life experiences, dating other people, if you only dated one person,” Andre asked.

“Yes, what a tragedy to miss out on bad dates with jerks or getting cheated on and your heart broken,” Tonks muttered as she stared down at the textbook in front of her but it was hard to concentrate on studying with those two going at it. Penny held out her hand towards her fellow Hufflepuff as she looked pointedly at Andre – see!?  Good point, Tonks!

“But aren’t those also life experiences a lot of people go through that you learn from and can relate to others through? If your friends are all talking about their dating past and lives and you can’t relate, can’t that create a distance between you? If a friend comes to you crying over their most recent break-up or horrible date and you try to comfort them, they’re just going be like ‘you don’t understand how I feel or what I’m going through.’ And then why would they come to you again. See? Distance.”

Penny frowned as Andre made his next argument. “I understand what you’re saying about it being difficult to relate to others but I think if you’re really friends something like that wouldn’t ruin a friendship. I mean, there’s other types of heartbreak and bad experiences one could have and sometimes all a friend needs to do is listen and validate –“

“And give ice cream,” Tonks chimed in.

“I just think you’d be missing out on experiences you’re supposed to be having while we’re young. Also, imagine only kissing or having sex with one person your whole life!” That thought horrified the Ravenclaw!

“Guess we know what Andre’s Boggart is,” Tonks teased. Her joked earned a small chuckle from the table, even Andre had to agree that was funny – and accurate!

“I just don’t think you can find ‘the one’ unless you date around a bit. Just because you two have some things in common and get along pretty well and you might find them cute doesn’t make them ‘the one.’ How do you know someone is ‘the one’ you really want to be with, are supposed to be with, if you don’t test the water and see what else is out there to confirm,” Andre asked.

“What if they are the one?”

The table went silent as they all looked over at the last person who they thought would say anything. He said it so softly they almost missed it. Honestly, they all expected him to sneak off when the focus shifted away from him. Why he would speak up during this topic and risk bringing the focus back to him and his ‘relationship’ with Keira was a mystery to them. Clearly he wasn’t really listening to them anymore, however, and was lost in his own thoughts, thinking out loud, possibly unintentionally.

He had to admit, part of him found this whole topic of discussion interesting, which was probably why he stayed instead of making his escape. As someone who never had any interest in dating or snogging, as Andre brought up, or anything of the sort, there was part of him that was intrigued how others viewed and felt about romantic and sexual relationships. And now that he had met someone who had sparked these new feelings within him that he never felt before, never thought he would ever feel, and still didn’t feel for anyone else, his curiosity on the subject had grown.

“If you meet someone who makes you feel like you’ve never felt before, like no one else had ever made you feel, aren’t they the one? And if they are, wouldn’t you want to spend as much time with them as possible? Making as many memories together as you can? Having as many experiences together as you can? And wouldn’t those experiences only be made better when you’re experiencing them together with someone you care about? Wouldn’t you want your firsts and only to be with them because you already know with anyone else it won’t feel the same? Greatly pale in comparison, probably won’t feel anything at all… And why, if you have these feelings for them, try to push them away and deny them to waste time with playing games and dating around to make sure or be like everyone else when your unique feelings solely for them should be enough? Sure, for most people they have to date around to find someone they feel this way about, but we’re not like most people. And if you’re fortunate enough to avoid all that shouldn’t you act on that because you’re privileged to find what everyone else is searching for without going through all the obstacles and hurdles and pain? Even if you were never searching for it, never wanted it before, but found someone who made you want it, doesn’t that make it even more rare and special and, therefore, more meaningful and significant – doesn’t that mean you should do whatever in your power to keep them in your life because their presence in it has made it better, happier?”

The trio of friends sat in a stunned silence as the Gryffindor appeared to be working out his feelings before their eyes – was he even aware he was saying this all out loud in front of them? Were others in the Great Hall listening in as well? It was definitely a sight to behold. No one would have ever expected the Seeker to suddenly spill out such an emotional string of consciousness, especially out loud to an audience.

“And, yes, there is the possibility they don’t feel the same way. But should that fear of a possibility without solid evidence dictate your life with this person and control you? Should you allow that fear to keep you from potential happiness and creating those memories and having those experiences together? If they don’t feel the same way, sure, it’ll hurt, but at least you won’t have that uncertainty haunting you and that fear controlling you anymore. And after some time couldn’t you heal and get back to at least being friends so you can still have them in your life? I’ve seen people date and break up and remain friends so why should this be any different? It’s not really fair to allow your own fear of what they might be feeling, how they might react, deny them with the opportunity to decide for themselves what they want. You can’t let your own fear decide for them. Soon we’ll be graduating and going on with our lives, and who knows how these Cursed Vaults and this R person, organization, whatever, will end – do you really want to waste this short time we may have together denying your feelings or allowing your fear of rejection to rob you of possibly some of the greatest memories and experiences you can have? What if something, Merlin forbid, does happen with the last Vault or with R? What if we graduate and get jobs on opposite ends of the globe? Won’t you regret never admitting your feelings for them? Never giving yourself, or them, the chance at sharing those incredible memories and experiences together? Don’t they deserve to know, even if they don’t feel the same way? Don’t they deserve to know how cared for they are? Don’t they deserve to know? Don’t they?”

The trio glanced between themselves awkwardly. Was he… was he asking them? Were they supposed to answer or was this a rhetorical question? Unsure, Tonks nervously started to raise her hand but quickly dropped it when he started up again, his speech growing more passionate the longer it went on. Who knew Charlie was so insightful on matters besides dragons?

“Don’t you both deserve a chance at happiness? Don’t you both deserve to see what these new feelings are for each other with each other? If I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before, I doubt I’ll ever feel this way about anyone else in the future, but I feel this way about them because… maybe they are the one. Maybe we’re meant to be. And if they are, if we are, why are we wasting all this time?” Charlie let out a small chuckle at his epiphany before grabbing his bag and quickly heading out of the Great Hall, leaving his friends to stare after him, still stunned and completely shocked.

Andre slowly reached over to slide the textbook that was just moments ago in front of Charlie over to himself, marking the page before closing it to return to the Gryffindor later. “Huh. He left his Dragon-Keeper’s Guide book behind,” he stated as he read the cover before looking up at the two Hufflepuffs.

“Whoa… this is serious,” Tonks murmured before the three looked back towards the doors of the Great Hall where the dragon obsessed Weasley just sprinted out of, leaving his dragon text behind.

“How'd I Let You Slip Away When I'm Longing So To Hold You Now I'd Die For One More Day 'Cause There's Something I Should Have Told You

When I looked into your eyes (And I find I can't hide from your eyes The ones that took me by surprise) You were the song all along And before the song dies I should tell you, I should tell you” 

Tag List: @sungoddessra @sly-vixen-up2nogood @urban-eagle / @scribbleries @bexeris @cinnamoncam @tatlikar 

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list! =) )

#charlie weasley #charlie x mc #charlie x oc #my mc #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #my fic #hp oc #I wrote a thing #andre egwu #penny haywood #nymphadora tonks #tonks #actually kind of proud of this one #even if only because I wrote it all in one sitting because inspiration suddenly hit

[aphelyons]

My Creative Year in Review 2018

stolen from but also requested by inspired by @drstrangewillseeyounow​

Preface: This will be a bit of a mashup of two things; art and writing. But I’ll be clear. This is also a long post, I’m very sorry. Apparently I don’t shut up.

Total number of creations? (Or a rough guess!)

Art - Finished; 221 (not all published) Art - WIPS; 25 Writing - Published; 4 Writing - WIPS; 9 ?

Was there a project that you didn’t get around to?

In terms of starting or finishing? Lol. I didn’t get around to publishing the first chapter of the MU fic, which I desperately still want to before S2 starts. Because I keep writing all the middle bits instead. Nor did I get around to start writing the “winter fic” beyond plot points and a few little scenes.

There’s a looooooooooooooot of art I didn’t get around to either starting properly or finishing. Lol. I have a L’Rell piece I really want to do, as  well as [another] mirror Stamets piece I want to do.

What was the creation you had the most fun making?

Art: Oh that’s hard. A lot of things for a lot of different reasons. I enjoyed the Holiday artworks because they were….really out of my depth and fun. Mostly I loved sending them out on cards to friends.

More recently I had a lot of fun doing the Patroclus and Achilles piece. Loved using golden hues.

Also have a lot of fun with Not Safe for Work-Viewing pieces, but those will never be published here. :D Sorry.

Writing: I had a surprising amount of fun writing the Vampire AU fic [Just a Taste] for Halloween. Which I never expected to write anything vampiric, ever, and also it came together really quickly. Building the world in that short fic was a lot of fun.

Any surprises? (E.g. a character or ship you never thought you’d create for or a project that came out of nowhere?)

Well honestly this whole revival to art and writing came as a surprise, I hadn’t done either in many years. I was also never a Star Trek fan prior to Disco, nor have I ever been a part of a fandom before. This is my first! So that was surprising, also surprising was how massively obsessed I became and how important it became to me. But the best surprise out of all of that is the connections to people I’ve made and the friendships that have come from that. ily. <3 Also not going to lie, pretty surprised that suddenly my art has become mega-fuckin-colourful. Where did this love of neon come from??? Wtf

What was the hardest creation to make?

Writing; MU fic - hands down. I have pages and pages and pages of resources. Not only is it going to be a long story (I endeavour and hope) but also from the amount of which I am pulling from and want to align to canon as as best I can as well. Being a new fan to Trek also... it’s been pretty overwhelming to get these details right. But at the same time, really trying to flesh out a character we never met or saw in the show, and have them interact with the established canon and have that all make sense… That and have the science in it make as much sense as possible, I’ve based a few new things on scientific principles and things that exist and just trying to elevate them to a cosmic scale… and hope I can pull that off too. It’s pretty intimidating. Not going into it, but the way the story weaves and intersects with a few different genres.. I just want to have it make sense in it’s self contained body of work.

Yeah it’s hard. Lol. Biggest thing I’ve ever tried to do. But, I love it, truly. I think about this whole project an inhumane amount of times every day, and I love that. 

It’s also hard because I’d love to be a linear writer, but I am not. At all. I’m constantly writing ahead, well and truly ahead, but then coming back, adding to and editing earlier bits and rewriting and rewriting….rewriting… ugh

The subjects and themes are also a little heavy, and it’s cathartic to write about, sure, but also wanting to do those moments justice and with respect and integrity - because that’s important to me too.

The whole thing is just a lot of fuckin work, lol. But I really love it. Already - and it’s nowhere near done.

Art; Probably the one where Paul is laying down [crying] in the spore chamber. It was my first return to trying to paint semi-realism, and... it didn’t work out. I’m not happy with it anymore, but also proud that I pulled it off. That pose? Hair? HAND? UGH those took me too long to get right. But, overall it certainly taught me a lot to use on future more realism-ish pieces such as the Cosmic/Celestial pics of Hugh and Paul [which I love.]

What inspired you the most this year?

Oh, easy. Discovery. Hugh and Paul, hands down both of those things. But also to the endlessly talented people who I’ve come to know and also enjoy the works of - be it written, art, or otherwise. Creativity inspires creativity. 

What are you most proud of? (A creation, something you learned, etc)

Art: The Cosmic/Celestial pieces. Very proud of those. (So much so I made metal prints of them and they sit on my bookshelf between a salt lamp.) I really love how they came out, and really the original (Cosmic Paul) was kind of an accident, a happy accident if you will.  

Also the piece of Anthony I did for Anthony’s birthday. That was a lot of fun constructing something visually representative of a person.

Any goals/plans/ideas for next year?

Fucking get some headway on my MU fic so I can stop being so annoying by just talking about it, and fucking start publishing it already -  for then it then it would EXIST in the word. LOL. Ugh. That’s the only big plan, that’s all I want to do. Whatever art I will do - I will just find inspiration in the moment to do. No plans, other than the L’Rell piece and a couple other WIPs - maybe.  

Honestly just that and trying to keep improving, both in writing and in drawing. I feel like I’ve improved over this past year, so would love to just continue on that trajectory.

Pick your favourite creations! (Post links and tell us why you love them!)

The Cosmic and Celestial Series I just love how these turned out, especially because it was such a surprise how it turned out originally. But being able portray this cosmic divinity of which I uphold them both to be in my mind was really awesome to pull off. The colours, and dramatic light, this whole thing was so fucking fun. The whole painting with colours as highlights / shadows / dual light source was a huge experiment for me and it taught me a huge amount, so I really love it for many reasons.

The Song of Achilles  I started sketching this while I was listening to the audio book and while I fell in love with these two. Please, again, do go read this book. But the detailing on the spear, the auras and Achilles hair were my favourite bits. Oh and the gold blood. Of course, lol. Loved doing the symbolic imagery 

Anthony Rapp’s Birthday Portrait  Because this man means a whole lot to me, and it was nice really nice for a change of pace to try and depict him and things that are important to him. Also really proud of that shoe, ngl. & And MU Stamets and his Mycelium Sun

Huge experiment in terms of colour and lighting for me, and I love love love how it turned out. Even if it’s a little rough. This one was so much fun, and I also printed this out on metal actually lol. Looks pretty cool.  & First MU Culmets Work Still in my heart, even though it’s a earlier work, because it was the first exploitation of this duo for me, and how they might be together. Also where I came up with the HC for his facial scar, which I always will include in any MU Hugh depiction of mine. But I still really like how their characterisation translates in this one.

Writing

Nomenclature.  

The archaeology AU story I wrote for 30MinuteLoop. Also well, this is the only one that’s safe for viewing that’s published, lol, but I am genuinely really proud of this and seeing it through to completion. 

But also the MU story is a fave, but this is the only published section so far:

MU Snippet (These next couple of questions are directly from @drstrangewillseeyounow​ sorry I’ll be so literal in their structure, lmao)

How you decide on which style to use for individual pieces?

Unless it’s something very specific in mind (like the holiday pieces) I just kind of let it take a life of its own. See what it evolves into. I might have one idea to where I want it to go before I export it to PS, but once in PS it might take a whole new life (prime example if the original Cosmic/Celestial Paul. The original was very flat, and pretty boring lol but really became something else in PS. Actually it was supposed to be originally a visual piece to accompany my Vampire fic - and Vampire Hugh picture. But that changed entirely once I got it into PS.)

(It’s hard to see but there’s a bite mark on the original side.)

I'd also know more about your literal process, as in: what's your hardware set-up, what software do you use?

I have a weird all over the place set up. Lol.

So I do the majority of the work on my iPad, up until a stage where I don’t think I can go any further with it (or need more than 6 layers at my disposal) and then export it to my PC (either work or home) and then work on it further in Photoshop. Of which it then gains infinite amount of layers, lmao. Oh god.

As for the file on the iPad, when I’m working on that I can only have 6 layers. So usually will do sketch/line-work on one (or two, if I have to work a problematic bit but then merge it with the rest) and same with the colour/painting. That’s always on one layer, which I’ve grown to really like working like that. I might do skin on one, then clothes on another, but eventually will merge them.  If it’s a full paint (or even half paint maybe), the colour and line layer will eventually be merged as I erase the lines I no longer need as I go and blend that layer more seamlessly into the painted layer. It just ending up a purely painted file without the original lines. Another layer may be added for more delicate details such as eyelashes and eyebrows, things like that.

Everything I do once exported to Photoshop is just with a mouse, I have a Wacom tablet… But I don’t use it, because I haven’t been bothered calibrating it with my dual monitor setup, and am happy doing most of the work on the iPad anyway as it kinda acts like a Cintiq in that regard. But localised. (Plus I can take it anywhere with me, interstate, overseas, to work, to the park, etc. I love that mobility.) Depending if I need a certain element that’s vector based, I’ll make it in Corel Draw or Illustrator, too. I also have Corel painter....buuuuuuuuut still haven’t used it. That’s a goal for 2019 for sure, lmao. Very occasionally I will physically sketch out the idea (like the holiday pieces) scan, and rework, redraw, line it, or whatever in the iPad then go forth with all of the above processes. 

How long does it usually take you from start to finish?

Art: How long a piece takes really varies lol. Sketches can be between 1 - 4 hours on average, sometimes more. Flat colours will be a couple hours more. Half paints usually 4-8 more hours. Full paints and more realism stuff like the Cosmic/Celestial is total of 18hours+ but those times are just a rough idea, sometimes something just works out a lot quicker. Sometimes longer. 

Writing: FOR FUYCKING EVER. I’m the slowest writer ever.

Do you have art WIPs and what do you think keeps you from finishing them?

I have a lot of art WIPs lol I think just losing drive or inspiration to finish them is what mainly kills them, or me getting frustrated that it isn’t working out like I wanted. Sometimes I just forget they exist.

Probably same goes for writing, too. Lol. Also it could be that I’ll dream up the entire (or mostly) of the story, but then getting it onto the page is hard. I want to work at getting better at that.

Do you do any non-fanart, too?

Sure. Although not often anymore, I’m honestly just inhumanly obsessed with Hugh and Paul.. Even when I start a project that isn’t centric to either or both of them… Often it will kind of morph into them. oops. 

I want to say yes to fic too...but That’s a project I haven’t worked on in fucking years and years, so I doubt that really counts anymore.

//end

Wow I am so sorry that was me just rambling on. Anyway, cool. Hi to anyone who made it this far.   I’ll also parrot the line of: Everyone who created/posted art, fic, gif-sets, vids, cosplay, etc., consider yourself tagged if you’d like to be. I’m curious! (I’m fucking serious, P L E A S E   D O.) 

#long post #Asks #Q&A #my art #my writing #about me

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 24)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Janus, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Janus, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Meanwhile, everyone else is trying to find a missing 15 year old, all with different pieces of the puzzle about where he is. It really is too bad that no one is answering their phones.

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

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

Logan had kept them in the meeting room for literal hours, pausing only to feed everyone except Patton and Virgil (who had actually eaten dinner). Eventually, he decided that he was satisfied with the explanations (Well, no, perhaps not satisfied, he was still very displeased with everyone except Virgil and maybe Emile, though Emile had not helped himself when he’d realized that he’d spoken both to Patton and Remus in the grocery store near Remy’s house early and he and Patton had proceeded to go off on a tangent about pasta.) and had taken them all to some of the hotel style rooms in the base.

The room Remy, Emile, Janus, and Virgil were in had two double beds. Virgil and Janus had claimed one of the beds already and were currently curled up together on it both asleep. Janus had apparently picked up Virgil’s stuffed spider from home and stuck it in his pocket. He had ordered Remy to dry the slightly damp toy with a hair dryer before consenting to laying down. The two of them had fallen asleep easily after their long days, the stuffed spider laying on the top of Janus’s chest and Virgil’s arm thrown around him loosely.

Emile had stayed up longer and taken a shower before emailing his receptionist asking her to cancel all of his appointments for tomorrow (or today as it was by now). He’d climbed into bed a couple of minutes ago, leaving Remy the only conscious one in the room.

Virgil stirred awake as Remy stood up from the chair he’d been sitting on and stepped towards the door. “Dad?” he asked.

Remy took a detour to stand by his bedside and stroke a few of the curls that were still damp from his shower away from his face. “Go back to sleep, kid.”

“Where’re you going?” he asked.

“Just gonna go grab some coffee,” he said.

“It’s night,” he pointed out.

Remy cracked a grin. “Yeah, well, you know me.” He tapped him on the nose. “I’ll be right in the mini kitchen outside.”

“Kay,” Virgil agreed, laying his head back on Janus’s chest. Janus never stirred, dead to the world in the way he only ever was when Virgil was snuggled up against him.

Remy closed the door quietly behind himself and wandered over towards the kitchen.

“Can’t sleep?” Patton asked when he stepped into the little area. The man was sitting at the small two-person table with a mug of what looked like tea and a box of Oreos.

“Having trouble chilling out,” Remy replied. “You know how it is.” Patton hummed in acknowledgement as Remy investigated the coffee maker.

“You know,” Patton said amused. “If your trying to calm down and sleep, coffee may not be the best solution.”

“Babe, do you know me at all?” Remy asked. Patton just shook his head.

“Besides,” Remy continued. “Who said I was planning on sleeping any time soon?”

“You should try to sleep,” Patton said, frown clear in his tone even though Remy was turned away, putting coffee grounds into the machine.

“Says the man already out here eating cookies at half past 1.”

“Touché.”

They were silent until Remy’s coffee was finished. Remy poured himself a cup and went to sit across from him. “Thanks for not shanking the little bastard on sight.”

Patton’s nose scrunched. “I should have known he was yours with that mouth of his,” Patton said, then he shook his head. “He’s a cute kid.”

“He held a knife to your neck.”

Patton shrugged. “It’s not the first time I befriended someone with a deadly weapon on me,” he said. He pushed the packet of Oreos over to him. “I hope you realize I’m filing for joint custody.”

Remy laughed. “I figured after I heard you spent over 3 hours in a car with him.”

“I’m going to teach him how not to curse and why falling asleep during a kidnapping is not ideal.”

“Well, Emile’s already tried his hardest on the first front, so good luck, and the boy likes to nap at inopportune times, what can I say?”

“Takes after his dad.”

“I am both insulted and flattered simultaneously.”

Patton giggled softly.

“But, seriously,” Remy said. “I do owe you for making sure Virgil was okay even if you didn’t know he was my spawn.”

Patton shrugged. “You don’t owe me anything.” He paused. “Well, you could buy me some cheese since I’d just bought a bunch to make mac and cheese, and it all went bad during the long car ride.”

Remy snorted. “Why do the lactose intolerant fear no god?” he asked. “But, sure, I’ll be happy to reimburse you and endorse your hedonistic ways.”

Patton smiled at him and finished off his tea.

 Despite his suggestion that Remy head to bed a few minutes before, he did not put his mug in the sink, but filled it back up with water and popped it into the microwave. Remy turned back to his coffee for a moment and immediately felt arms come around him. “Thanks for not being dead,” Patton said into his ear.

Remy chuckled and patted his arm. “You’re welcome Patty, but really what did everyone expect? I’ve got a couple of kids to raise still.”

Patton just hummed and kept hugging him until the microwave beeped. He grabbed his mug then and plopped another tea bag into it.

“So, not what you planned for your weekend, huh?” Remy asked.

Patton shook his head sitting back down. “I was going to make the mac and cheese and watch reruns of Parks and Rec,” he said wistfully. Then he grinned. “I probably would have still been awake at this hour anyway.”

“Oh, Pat. How many times have you watched that show?”

Patton just smiled at him, eyes sparkling. “We really should try to get some sleep,” Patton said.

“Yeah, well, Emmy snores.”

“And Lo kicks,” Patton said, “when he’s not trying to crush me. Not that trying to sleep in the same bed as one of the twins is any better.”

Remy snorted. “Didn’t take Logan for a cuddling type.”

“Oh, he always tries to deny it, but he’s a big softie.”

“Explains why I’m not dead all over again.”

“Hmmm,” Patton agreed. Then he grinned. “I have the Netflix app on my phone,” he divulged.

“…We’re starting with season 3.”

“Of course,” Patton agreed, pulling out his phone.

They got yelled at in the morning by Logan for falling asleep at the table.

The end! Except for the epilogue.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #remy sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #emile piccani #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #road trips and missing persons #road trips and everything in between #adriana writes