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sparktober · 3 years ago

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Sparktober Bingo 2021!

Back for a new generation: Sparktober Bingo!

Instead of coming up with an Atlantis-specific list of prompts, I compiled a bunch of 2021 -tober prompt lists into one google doc here. (Links to original prompt lists are on the google doc.) Add in a list of Atlantis episodes and...

How to play:

Choose a “flavor” from the prompt sets below the cut, then paste it into this fandom bingo card generator.

Adjust your browser size til it looks right and take a screenshot, or use the html script if you’re familiar with using html on tumblr. Tag @sparktober if you want us to reblog it so everyone knows you’re playing!

Sparktober Bingo Rules:

Complete a row/column, corners, or a blackout of your card by November 1, or not! Update as you go.

All fan-works are allowed: art, edits, fic, meta... bonus points to anyone who picks the “sprinkles” flavor and goes full mid-aughts by filling their bingo cards with 100x100 pixel icons.

You are allowed to pull multiple cards until you get one that inspires you, and you can also go through the prompt list of your choice in advance to pull out squicks or things you absolutely won’t write. I recommend not googling unfamiliar words from your work computer.

Use the prompts liberally! Episode titles can be treated as the episode or as generic prompts (e.g. “Epiphany” can be for an episode-related fic or a prompt for an epiphany of your choice).

Flavor descriptions:

VANILLA: Gen prompt lists from Fictober, Inktober, Trektober Gen, and Trektober Trek.

CHOCOLATE: Zesty prompt lists from Trektober NSFW, Kinktober, and Whumptober. The multiple-prompts-per-day from Kinktober and Whumptober have been broken into individual prompts.

CANDY CORN: Fall / holiday themed prompts from TUA-tober.

SPRINKLES: Atlantis episode list (in order, in case you only want to copy certain seasons), along with characters and a few Atlantis-specific prompts.

TWIST: All of the above! (You can also manually mix and match different flavors, of course.)

Text blocks to copy into the bingo card generator are below the cut. Enjoy!!

VANILLA

CHOCOLATE

A/B/O; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; Hide & Seek; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Pressure; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Nightmares; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex

CANDY CORN

Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Ghosts; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Halloween

SPRINKLES

Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Adrift; Lifeline; Reunion; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

TWIST

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; A/B/O; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex; Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Lifeline; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

#sparktober is coming #sparktober #sparktober bingo

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bakubabes-tatakae · 5 years ago

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First One To Make A Noise Losses || {NSFW} Ban x fem!Reader

AO3 Link

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, 18+ content, teasing, oral sex, dirty talk, language

Word Count: 789

Ban’s tall, slender figure loomed over you as you stood with your back pinned against the door. The Sin of greed had one hand set above your head, another was wandering your body, exciting every single inch of it. His cunning smile was visible through the darkness. “Let’s make a game of this, shall we?”

You watched him as the smile grew larger, he had noticed the curiosity in your eyes. You didn’t have to say anything for him to tell you the rules. “First things first, there is only one rule, the first one to make a noise losses. If you lose, you don’t get to cum baby girl.”

The wheels in his head were turning, he knew exactly what to do to make you crazy, but in all honesty, you knew what made him crazy as well. This should be interesting.

Ban put his hands on your waist and pushed you further into the door, putting his lips to yours. You smiled against his lips, hopping off the ground, knowing he would never let you fall.

Ban placed his hands on your ass and carried you to the bed behind him. As he laid you down and hovered over you, you could feel his erection fighting against the front of his pants.

Ban tugged at your leggings, pulling them down slowly, kissing every inch of your chest as he did so, making a trail to your waist, stopping just before he got to your sex.

In what seemed like one swift motion Ban had your leggings on the ground. Ban kissed your inner thighs and pushed them apart, exposing your throbbing cunt. His tongue made small circles around your clit, teasing you. You had to place a hand over your own mouth, biting the back of it some, keeping yourself silent.

Since you couldn’t speak you grabbed some of Ban’s hair and tugged some. He stopped and looked up at you. You held up a finger and motioned it toward you. He slowly climbed back over you and when he was level with you, you wrapped your legs around his waist and used all your strength to flip him.

You had finally gained control and his eyes showed nothing but lust in them. You straddled him, helping him take his arms from his jacket. You trailed a finger down his chest followed by planting small kisses down his chest. You unzipped his pants and pulled them and his underwear down, his erection sprang out, precum glistening on the tip.

You placed your hand on his shaft, slowly moving it up and down. Using your thumb you spread his precum over the tip, causing him to buck his hip into you, holding back a moan. Before he could try to stop you to try to win the game you took his whole girth into his mouth, bobbing your head up and down. Ban moved his hips, trying to match your movements. As you felt his length throb against the roof of your mouth you stopped, leaving him yearning for more.

You straddled him again, your folds rubbing against his length, causing it to jump against you. You lined up his erection with your entrance and slowly lowered yourself onto him. With every move of your hips he gritted his teeth, biting his tongue. Ban had always been a vocal person during your escapades, this was going to be the hardest on him. Ban grabbed onto your hips, stopping you from moving, bucking himself into you. You placed your hands on his chest and threw your head back, biting your lip to keep from making a noise.

You could tell your walls were tightening around him, not only by the knot in your stomach but by the speed he was thrusting. When you reached your climax you couldn’t help but finally let his name come off your lips. His eyes lit up as he heard you speaking, but instead of stopping, he pounded harder.

When he reached his own climax you could feel the warmth from his seed enter your body. You collapsed on his chest as his thrusts grew fewer and slower. He moved your hair out of your face, wiping the few pieces that stuck to your forehead to the side. He kissed your temple and smiled. “You lost that game... but I couldn’t let my little freak go without an orgasm, now could I?”

You trailed your finger down his chest. “Well I appreciate that, I probably would have gone crazy if you had stopped.” You looked up at him and smiled. “But we can always play best two out of three.”

Ban put his lips to yours again, flipping you onto your back.

Revamped: 4/20/2021

©bakubabes-hatake's original content, please do not repost/modify without my permission

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evak-fic-rec-turtleanon · 4 years ago

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Evak Fics - Mpreg

For anon who asked for mpreg recs ages ago. Here’s the kid fic list.

* Other languages at the end (Español, Norsk)

I'll be there by Wolle19 (SERIES) - Part 1: All Isak want is for his husband to be home for the holidays. Even works making documentaries, so being home for the important dates is not a easy task.

What to (not) expect when you're expecting. by AnonymousPoet (1k words) - “Listen” Isak starts, suppressing a groan when a fresh wave of cramps from hell decides to make his life even more miserable. “Satan’s fucking cha cha-ing inside my intestines.” Just then, the face of his smiling boyfriend appears from the kitchen, when he moves towards Isak holding a cup of what smells like tea –even from two solid feet away. He looks smug, the bastard.

give it all by Skamtrash (2k words) - Isak gets pregnant and doesn't want the baby but Even does

love under the waves by reasoniwantyoutostay (2k words) - Merman Isak goes out to collect food for his husband and their coming bundle of joy. Unfortunately he gets stuck in a bad storm and has to wait it out overnight. Throughout the night his thoughts return to the day they met and all the adventures they've had since then.

A Thousand Isaks by TheFilthWithin (Flatfootmonster) (2k words) - "I'm just so fucking gross.” There was no other word to describe it, Isak had whined. “What?” Even snorted the word, disbelieving to what he was hearing. It was either a well-rehearsed act or it was genuine, either way, Isak was grateful.

see it showing by verlore_poplap (orphan_account) (2.6k words) - Three times Isak doesn't know; and one time he does.

Shattered Glass by Hibiskisss (3.2k words) - When I was a child I used to think that love could be stronger than all the problems that life confronted me with. I had been convinced of its power, extent and consistency. But love was not infinite. And time could not heal wounds. Angst.

Don't leave your pregnant omega home alone! by cloudowl (3.3k words) - Isak is left home alone for too long. Even comes back and makes it all better again, even if it was his fault to begin with.

Chapter 1 of Parallel Universes by Eccentricstate (3.6k words) - This chapter is Omegaverse and it sort of follows the original story until about a fourth of the way (plus some extra stuff, obviously). The rest is basically heat sex, so....

(WIP) Mathias Bech Næsheim (English) by JesseLBlack (6.5k words) - After two weeks of an intense relationship, Even disappears from Isak's life. The youngest is distraught and feels that he will not recover but he does so, for his son Mathias (Valtersen). The baby is product of the relationship between them. Four years later they meet but the situation is different. Is Isak able to face his son's illness and the pain of seeing his child's father again?

(WIP) Make You Feel My Love by shk_1991 (7.6k words) - Being a 19 year old prince isn’t fun when you’re Even… His parents are desperately trying to find him a mate but it isn’t easy when your son is an omega and has to be wed before his 20 birthday. One night Even sneaks out of the castle with the help of his best friend and servant Mikael…Here he meets a certain green eyed boy who takes his breath away… Could this be love at first sight?

(WIP) love is what it takes to live by sargentblue (14k words) - "Well, shit." Well, shit, was right. It was an accident, obviously, and the little stick that Isak holds in his hand is the certificate that confirms their mistake. "I took my birth control," Isak says straight away. Even is still looking at the two little red lines in shock.

you told me we were forever by Skamtrash (18k words) - Post Mpreg. Isak finds out he's having a baby soon after Even breaks up with him so he makes the decision not to tell him. Except Even finds out on his own 3 years later.

we're growing together, throwing the seeds byorphan_account (27k words) - He tilts his head up and smiles. “I think… I want to have a baby.” Even lets a blinding smile slowly spread over his face. “Yeah?” Isak and Even take on pregnancy.

(WIP) Medically Speaking by Ms_Tassimo (46k words) - Working as a hospital porter was not how Even Bech Næsheim saw his life ending up. But here he was; mopping up sick after a stupid mistake. However, the hot doctor with the nice smell? That just about makes up for it. Too bad Dr Valtersen seems like a bit of an asshole with a hell of a chip on his shoulder.

I Wasn't Expecting That by RobronSugdenDingle (54k words) - Isak's always said that life is now. But after a drunken one night stand, Isak quickly learns that one small child can change his life. Life is no longer now, life is stressful, complicated and in desperate need of a clean up. And whatever you do..... Don't fall in love with your best friend…

I think I might be pregnant by orphan_account (79k words) - sak is nineteen, Even is twenty-one, and they had a plan. A plan that they've very, very carefully stuck to. Until, that is, Isak gets sick and can't seem to figure out what's wrong with him. Spoiler: he's not sick.

I think I'm pregnant. Again. by orphan_account (71k words) - A part 2. Isak is twenty-three. Even is twenty-six. They had a plan once, but plans are overrated anyway.

You Are Everything I Have Never Been by staylucky (78k words) - Isak Valtersen is an unpresented, soon-to-present omega who is convinced his best friend Jonas Vasquez is his alpha mate until he meets a very charming and persuasive new alpha, Tall Stranger aka Even Bech Naesheim, making him question everything.

(WIP) You, Me, and Jellybean Makes Three by wordsarelifealways (94k words) - Part 3 of The Magical Universe of Isak and Even. The much awaited sequel to A Universe of Our Own! This picks up immediately after the epilogue of AUO3; the boys find out that Isak is pregnant.

(WIP) A Different Breed by wordsarelifealways (114k words) - The Næsheim family: cold, distant, and socially elite. When Even has his worst episode yet it's the final straw. His parents want him on a new drug to finally straighten him out; the only problem? It's been known to leave patients infertile. Solution? Hire an omega to have Even's child before he's no longer capable of having one.

***** OTHER LANGUAGES *****

(Español) Hijos de Isak y Even by JesseLBlack (SERIES) - Par1: Isak tiene 17 años cuando se entera que está esperando un hijo de su reciente novio Even. Al parecer Even está feliz con la noticia, pero mientras pasa el tiempo minuto a minuto las cosas se complican entre Even e Isak, sobre todo cuando Even pierde su empleo e Isak queda embarazado de nuevo. Mpreg. Sin Omegaverse.

(Español) Padres por elección by JesseLBlack (3k words) - Even quiere ser padre y contrata a una empresa que es un centro de reproducción saludable, donde tiene un hijo con Isak Valtersen, un chico que necesita el dinero. La historia de amor vivida por Even. Es corto y no tiene mucha descripción, pero soy una perra cuando se trata de Even siendo papá.

(Español) Cuando encuentras la felicidad. by JesseLBlack (4.2k words) - Even es un rom��ntico y cree en las almas gemelas, todos tienen una ¿no? Y él trata de buscara desde que tiene tres años. Pero nadie contesta, ha tenido decepciones de posibles almas y sigue sin responder. Hasta que un día responde y deciden encontrarse. Pero probablemente no es lo que espera Even.

(Español) No mires hacia atrás by JesseLBlack (4.7k words) - Isak es hijo de dos personas extremadamente religiosas, con mucha homofobia internalizada. Y él es gay, que ha entregado su cuerpo a alguien que no lo merece.

(Norsk) Historia om oss by duerikkjealeina (4.8k words) - ”Fyrste gong eg såg pappaen din var eg 17 år gamal. Han var 19 år og gjekk øve skulegarden som om han eigde den"

(Norsk) Er vi lykkelige no? by Frieda Echte (Plommesill) (53k words) - There is one mention of mpreg in the notes of this fic. If this doesn’t have mpreg, let me know! Jeg får tak i Evens blikk, blunker til ham. «Har du det bra?» han former ordene lydløst. Jeg har det dritbra, dette er den beste bursdagen, de feteste vennene, den deiligste typen. Jeg har en øl i hånden, livet er bra. Jeg smiler, ser sikkert ut som en tulling. Vi følger Isak og Even videre fra Isaks 18-årsdag. Dette er deres første sommer sammen, og de vet det ikke ennå, men den kommer til å gi dem både gode og dårlige dager. Heldigvis er alt love <3

#evak fic rec #skam fic rec #mpreg

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ladyloptr · 4 years ago

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•That Dimly Lit Dream•

Request: twt@DORKYLOKI/ @inananaii “how about the continuation of my dream the other day 😼😈. dark cave, bound in the dark, naked loki, him calling me pet, then lady loki. hehe.”

Fandom: Thor 1

Pairing: Loki x Reader, Lady Loki x Reader.

Warnings: Smut, Bondage.

(I’ve written smut before, but this is the first time I’ve done a requested smut on Tumblr, so here we go.)

{————}

A thunderstorm.

Great.

It couldn’t have come at a worse possible time.

You and Loki were sent by Odin to quell a clan of thieves, whom had been terrorizing the villages outside of the City of Asgard.

When you both had embarked, the skies were blue and not a single cloud was in sight.

And now, you and Loki were stuck seeking refuge in a dark cave, waiting for the storm to pass by.

It didn’t bother you too much at first. You and Loki were friends, going back as far as childhood, so it’s not like he made you uncomfortable or anything. However, as the storm dragged on, the darker it became outside, until it was soon nightfall.

It’s so dark that you can’t even see your own hands in front of you. Even if the storm suddenly stops now, it’s too dark for either of you to be venturing out. It’s safer to just go to sleep here, and then continue on with your journey in the morning.

Just as you begin to succumb to the pull of sleep, a noise from behind you startles you awake. You would’ve thrown a fit, had you not reminded yourself that Loki is also here in this cave with you.

You allow yourself to relax again, and rest your eyes.

Big mistake.

A hand clasps itself around your upper arm, dragging you up and away from the spot you had been sitting. You try to twist around and claw at your attacker, but there’s no use. You can’t see anything.

“Loki! Loki?!”

“Be silent, you silly girl!”

You cease your struggling. “Loki? What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, merely lowering you to lean back against what feels like a large boulder, which worries you. You can hear him chuckle to himself before something cold and hard is clasped around both of your wrists, keeping them bound together, and magically rendering you unable to move them from above your head.

You start struggling again. “Loki, what’s happening? What are you doing? Say something.”

“Silence, pet.” A now female Loki, hisses. You are used to Loki’s genderfluidity, so you don’t react when she switches gender. “I am growing bored of our current situation, so I am entertaining myself.”

“Entertaining yourself by traumatizing me?” You frown to yourself, now confused. “Hold on, how can you see in the dark?”

“I just can.” She drones. You can hear her shuffling and you are unsure of what’s going on.

“Err... Loki?”

“Did I not just tell you to be silent? Do not make me gag you.”

If you weren’t incredibly confused and blinded by the dark, you might’ve been turned on by that statement. Being Bisexual has its perks, meaning you find both Lord and Lady Loki to be quite attractive, which right now, might end up being your downfall.

You start struggling when she starts undoing the laces on your clothing.

“Cease your squirming, pet. We both know you want this, and quite frankly, I do as well.” She says, successfully managing to remove the top part of your tunic, leaving your chest bare. You wonder how much detail she can see in the dark.

You gasp as rolls your nipple between her fingers gradually hardening it. She soon switches to the other nipple and gives it the same treatment.

“Are... are we truly about to do this in a cave?”

“I do what I want.”

She removes your boots, practically throwing them to the other side of the cave. The sturdy leggings you wear underneath your skirt is the next to go, leaving you only in your skirt and underwear.

Loki pulls your skirt down next, slowly and sensually. You shudder, and she chuckles darkly.

“Ah, pet, you look so delicious like this.”

You can feel her fingers running up your thighs, until they stop at your panties. She runs her fingers over the cloth and hums in delight.

“Soaked. You are quite the naughty thing, aren’t you?”

She removes the last remaining piece of cloth covering you. She does nothing for a few seconds, undoubtedly taking in your beauty for a moment.

“A-ahhh!” You suddenly feel her fingers inside of you, pumping at a steady pace. “Oh, fuuuck.” She curls them tightly against your g-spot, causing you to let out a mewl.

“My my my, you are much more responsive than I originally anticipated.” She says, withdrawing her fingers. You are surprised when she presses her nude body up against you.

Apparently she had already removed her clothes.

She grinds her pelvis against yours, moaning obscenely loud. Lewd sounds fill the cave as you grind back against her, your swollen clits feverishly rubbing together in an attempt to find release.

If this is a dream, it’s a pretty damn good one.

You just wish she’d undo the charmed metal forcefully holding your arms above your head. You want to touch the goddess, and run your hands all over her masterpiece of a body, even if you can’t see her.

The moaning mixing with the lewd wet noises only serve to push you closer to orgasm. Loki leans close to your ear and says “You’re so beautiful, pet. So wet and so slick for me. You are sin.”

Your back is slightly aching now from laying against a rough boulder, but being absolutely fucked by Lady Loki in a dark cave makes it totally worth it.

Loki bucks against you harder and more forcefully, her moans becoming more like angry growls, as if she were a wolf in heat.

You feel it coming, the familiar pooling of hot pleasure telling you that you are about to fall off the edge. “Oh my, oh my, oh my stars!” At this point you’re practically screaming. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-!”

Feeling as if a rope snapped inside of you, a wave of immense pleasure washes over you. You can vaguely hear Loki riding through her own orgasm. She leans down and kisses you, running her tongue through your mouth, thoroughly tasting you. You both swallow each other’s moans and cries, your fluids mixing together on each other’s thighs.

The cave becomes silent again, but only for a moment, before Loki shifts back into a male. He releases your bound wrists, allowing your arms free movement again.

Though, he doesn’t let you go quite yet.

Your legs are pulled up onto his shoulders and you feel his long and hard length press up against your cunt. You grip his hair (nearly poking his eye out because it’s dark) and moan loudly as he practically impales you on his cock. He rocks back and forth at an easy pace, allowing you to adjust to his size.

You can hear his balls slapping against your ass as he picks up the pace. He leans down, taking a nipple in his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.

“Ohhhh. You’re so deep.” You sob.

You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you are to your next climax, considering how recently you just came.

“I do apologize.” Loki grunts, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He’s fast approaching his own release. “I usually... have much more control... over myself.”

“I-It’s alright.” You throw your head back and let out another mewl, as his head brushes against your g-spot. “I’ve always... wanted to fuck you anyways... both of you.”

“Well, I-I-“ Loki falters, cut off by his own orgasm. You let out a sharp cry of his name, as the intense throbbing of his cock and the feeling of his seed being pumped into you sends you toppling right after him.

You both cling to each other as he gradually pulls you both through the euphoria, slowly fucking you back down from Valhalla.

He lets out a shaky breath before telling you “Well, I’ve always wanted to fuck you too,(Y/N).”

He pulls his now softened length out of you. It’s still dark outside, so he gently lowers you to the ground to get some rest. You can feel him using seidr to heal your scraped up back.

“Loki... would it be alright if we did this again... but on an actual bed, perhaps?

You can hear him chuckle beside you.

“Anytime, pet.”

#loki smut #loki x female reader #loki (marvel)#loki odinson #loki odinsdottir #lady loki

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blaster-aichi · 4 years ago

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Cardfight!! Vanguard Extra Story IF 16 things

forgot to post this, heck

Fanguard’s dream of actual hobo Kai-kun sleeping on Bench-chan is finally realized

There’s a lot of Kamui and Shin instinctively having feelings true to the true reality and mismatched to IF’s world. There’s two possibilities for this: a) Aichi did a really shitty job nailing down everything due to his concentration being focused primarily on Kai-kun b) the rupture from the illusion around Kai-kun unravelling tore into the IF world as a whole and it’s unable to entirely maintain its story, allowing for instances like Morikawa recalling Kai-kun’s line from Reboot’s first episode or Kamui and Shin recognizing Kagero as a clan expected of him.

The Kamui/Morikawa interactions were really cute, it’s nice to see them butting heads and just being rambunctious kids

Izaki sank the Miyaji Kai-kun theory, curious what he’s like at school in this form.

The ferocity of his original memories invading and scaring him having a lasting impact and making him afraid to play again even a couple/few days later is both fascinating and gutwrenching.

Honestly very surprised that Shin would reprimand anyone for being loud, particularly when that’s Misaki’s thing and where are you hiding her?

The softer he is, the more heartbreaking his situation is in the grand scheme of things, even if he’s come to terms with it. How dare you, Bushi.

IF 15: [roasts himself]. IF 16: [literally roasts a nerd]

Love and hate how the opportunity to elaborate and delve into Kai-kun’s relationship with Dragonic Overlord is taken advantage of because why not just stab me instead? It’s a nice insight into a facet of his time away from Hitsue that was never truly touched on in either version prior.

Emi and Shingo become Fanguard.

Right eye sighted. But being it’s Shingo's recollection of Aichi, not yet willing to buy that it’s completely normal with the fact that, beyond this and his encountering Shuka, it’s remained hidden — the purpose of the shot itself was to establish Shingo isn’t remembering things correctly, so there’s no reason to believe that he’s aware of anything that might be different about it. — This could be reflected in how Aichi keeps his distance from the others, holed up in his private quarters and suffering with only Kourin seeming to be anywhere near him during such times. It’s reminiscent of Legion Mate, both in his trying to shoulder everything alone/hide the agony he’s going through and Kourin’s close proximity, standing as his right hand in a manner that no-one else fills. — Also to go with the Legion Mate topic, in this moment, IF Aichi gives off VoidAichi vibes. Despite how broken up it’s apparent he would and should be to exile himself (see V epi 21 and the flashback to him watching the others in Card Capital from Legion Mate), he shows no emotion, but rather seems completely numbed. Also probably looking waaaay too far into it, but 2/2 times when his face has been completely obscured, there’s been a stylistic choice beneath his eyes that is typical of exhaustion/strain/fatigue and it keeps worrying me.

IF 17

The preview gives the impression that this episode is about to be a turning point; that with Naoki and Shingo both having some understanding that things aren’t quite right, their loyalty to Aichi might start to wane.

Naoki’s going out in his Miyaji school uniform has alarm bells ringing, personally, for reasons elaborated below.

Never knew that needed Kai-kun working a part-time job in my life but boy is it a need now.

Here for Mamoru reigniting his fandom for Kai-kun. Very here for it.

IF vs. V 21

As a first note, Kai-kun being the one to separation between Aichi and his deck against their IF selves has a nice touch of irony to it. Calling back to it would be a powerful way of drawing on their positions in relation to the scene.

Considering just how badly Aichi freaked out over the idea of giving up his Royal Paladin deck and what it would force unto him, there’s little reason to suspect anything that’s happening in IF is really of his own free will. — It’s been brought up that, without the two meeting as kids, Aichi shouldn’t really have much knowhow about Vanguard, much less a relationship to it. Considering Kai-kun remained a Hitsue student, it’s an easy assumption to make that Aichi’s education followed the same pattern (though his reasoning for returning to Miyaji remains a mystery, with his lacking the confidence that his original reality/Outside World self had); his exposure to the game might come through his time in Middle School, but it’s a loose and distant connection at best. IF World Aichi, without knowledge of Outside World (if they are two separate versions), would have no reason to target Vanguard over anything else.

As Void and Star-Vaders aren’t a facet of the Reboot continuity, a theory that had in mind for a while is that a remnant of Brandt may have seized the moment when Aichi was Deleted and been festering away in the same manner as the Link Joker Seed. A previous post detailed the mindfuckery involved to break Aichi enough that he would turn on the game, particularly given how fearful he was of relinquishing it and the isolation it would return him to — the very circumstances he’s imposed upon himself (but far worse, in exiling himself from the real world). Though he’s a selfless boy and Kai-kun means an enormous amount to him, it simply doesn’t make sense that he would willingly go down this road.

Rather he’s mind has been twisted so much to believe in what he’s now doing or he’s being controlled by something of Brandt (as we’d never confirmation it was no longer a threat), if not some other force (though to introduce a new one at this stage in both the franchise and the reboot continuity with OverDress around the corner would be a peculiar choice).

Couple of theory things, feat. one really out there idea:

Naoki:

Naoki’s actions in the preview might be glimpses of him starting to break away from Aichi’s will; not with malicious intent, but rather the opposite.

The line of thinking goes as so: as he and Shingo come to realize their memories have been tampered with, Naoki seeks out Emi and Shuka, obtaining Blaster Blade with the intent of returning to the point in time where Aichi should have received it. Among the screencaps Bushiroad has released, one shows a young Naoki and Aichi, who’s holding a card — rather than allowing the event to play out as it should have, Naoki intends to give Aichi the card himself.

In doing so, Aichi can begin down his path that liberates him from the crushing loneliness that he endured prior to actively playing the game, or in the case of IF, running away from home. Simultaneously, Naoki himself is freed from the guilt that’s shackled him in both continuities about not doing anything to help Aichi, as the Reboot has demonstrated how he yearned to at the time but was too late to make any move. This is his means of doing so and atoning for a reality when he failed.

When Emi, Shuka and Kai-kun would recognize him as the one who threatened the latter’s parents plus Suiko (and Ibuki) would be familiar with him as normal, there’s not a clear reason why he would forgo his Sanctuary Knight uniform for a civilian look other than to avoid attracting the attention of bystanders.;(It might be overthinking it to speculate there being anything more to it than this, but when has that ever worked?) — Granted this is under the assumption that he would be able to leap through the timeline though Jammers of earlier episodes were capable of doing so, none of the enemy’s core have made any such move yet. And the consequences of doing so; if Aichi’s suffering is the result of IF World unravelling, then Naoki venturing to alter the timeline further may, in fact, cause him more harm than any good he may intend.

2.5 hours later edit: Courtney just shared the epi synposis and FUCK

Alternatively, Naoki might regain glimpses of the Psyqualia Zombie arc and see himself beating Aichi, leading to Destiny Conductor being able to control him and his eventual Deletion by Ibuki’s hand.

On the one side, it reinforces Aichi’s feelings that Vanguard is something they shouldn’t come into contact with, but Naoki could see it otherwise. He harbours guilt over being the catalyst for those instances, piling on top of his failure to reach out when they were in elementary school, spurning him to go back and redo everything so that he can always protect Aichi, not to embody anguish that the other goes through.

It would also strengthen a hostile opposition towards Ibuki, whose past sin comes back into play. He might throw the event in his face as a means of trying to dredge up his old feelings towards Vanguard and sway him to resist setting things right, whenever/however it is he’s released from wherever Aichi sent him and depending on what he experiences there.

Kourin:

Where we are currently feels very much like the “Sera’s betrayal leading to the Quatre Knights’ dissolution” point. Sera and Rati clashed with one another personally, Gaillard joined with Kai-kun and Naoki, Neve opposed VoidAichi directly — Naoki’s actions in the preview might be glimpses of him starting to break away from Aichi’s will. Though Naoki’s intentions are ultimately to save Aichi from the position he’s stuck in, it’s ultimately defying him — a far cry from what has been shown of the Knights, thus far, who have been fiercely loyal to him, which makes this sort of movement striking.

Miwa also doesn’t appear best pleased in the preview. As someone whose best friend was nearly killed as a result of Aichi’s orders — a friend at risk now that he’s taking a stance against the group’s status quo — there’s every reason for him to defect for the sake of preventing another (and possibly actually fatal) incident. It’s very possible that It’s entirely possible that, in similar vein to Legion Mate, the collapse of the Knights will leave only Kourin by Aichi’s side, who’ll serve as the last line of defence.

Mamoru & Tokoha / Aichi & Emi:

It wasn’t touched on during Nagisa and Gouki’s episode, but the dynamic of older brother and younger sister has the potential to crop up here, as well as the chance to contrast the Sendous’ current selves with the Anjou siblings (and the former’s past).

— Not to mention how Mamoru and Aichi are polar opposites, at the moment in regards to their sisters in danger. Mamoru gambled with his life to keep Tokoha safe in the Dragon Empire attack of the original continuity, and anyone could see Aichi would do the same, but IF Aichi is the one who would inflict harm upon Emi, made clear by his soldiers’ attack on her and Shuka when they attempted to enter the past. Maybe, inadvertently, Tokoha might be put in jeopardy and Mamoru propelled to protect her in the same way, bringing about the behaviour of the two versions of her brother that Emi knows in the same situation.

Give me 11-year old Tokoha to mirror 11-year old Emi at the start of each continuity and drive this home.

And most importantly:

DRAGONIC OVERLORD ARMOUR

#Cardfight!! Vanguard #Cardfight!! Vanguard IF #cfv spoilers #give me Alfred Aichi vs DO Kai kun sword fight #better yet give me Alfred Aichi vs BB Emi AND DO Kai kun fight #also free Misaki 2k20 #long post

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emospritelet · 5 years ago

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Indulgence

Third part of my Original Sin verse, in which demon!Gold goes to seduce human!Belle with his balls full of demonic seed…

This was supposed to be ready for Halloween, and has been in the works since early September, but I was sick, so it was late. I tagged it mildly dubious consent on AO3, mainly because she doesn’t realise he’s serious when he tells her he’s a demon. Not sure that would make a difference to our girl, but I tagged it for safety.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [AO3]

Gold made his way slowly down the side street, the brass-handled cane he used tapping out a steady rhythm on the cracked stones. It was a dull, grey day, approaching dusk, but he still wore sunglasses with brown-tinted lenses, keeping what glare there was from his sensitive eyes. He much preferred to do business after dark, but humans were predictably reluctant in these matters. A cyclist passed at speed, spinning wheels throwing dead leaves and dirt into the air, and he stepped back calmly on one foot, the movement showing his lack of true need for the cane he carried. It was an affectation, a tool to make him seem smaller, less threatening. He wasn’t sure if it worked all that well, as the humans were still wary of him, but he had used the thing for years, and so he stuck with it. Besides, it looked good.

He paused outside an old three-storey building, looking it up and down as he gathered his thoughts. The place had been built in the 1920s, and held its own against its taller, more modern neighbours. A painted sign hung above the door, the curling letters black on a white background: Avonlea Books. A stone step marked the entrance, windows framed in pale blue displaying a collection of children’s books with shining covers, all concerning witches, vampires or ghosts. There was a display of paper leaves in red and gold, a carved pumpkin, and a stuffed black cat with green glass eyes curled beside an iron cauldron. Silver-grey strands of fake spider web stretched across the window, and Gold smiled to himself. Miss French was ready for Halloween, it seemed.

He had met the young bookstore owner quite by chance, when she had ordered a rare copy of Persuasion from him for her personal collection. Her initial email querying its provenance had been detailed and thorough, displaying a deep knowledge of the author and a true passion for reading. They had corresponded a few times before she had agreed to purchase the item, and she had displayed a wit and intelligence that had made him want to continue their interactions. She had intrigued him, had pricked at the depths of his dark soul in ways that he had rarely experienced, and he had found himself thinking of her at the strangest times. He had been due to travel to New York on other business, and so he had decided to deliver the book personally.

Miss French, when they met, had almost stolen his breath. She was delightful: a tiny ball of sunshine with the sort of pale beauty and inner fire that he found most alluring in humans, and could rarely find. She had made him tea, drunk as they sat in her tiny shop and discussed books, her scent making his mouth water and his skin burn with desire. The brief touch of her hand on his arm had sent shivers through him, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to use his magic to sneak his way into her dreams and let her feel the pleasure he could give her. She was breathtaking.

He decided then and there that he would see her again, and so he had sought books that he knew she would like, taking the liberty of emailing her with news of his latest acquisitions in the hope of securing another meeting. He had travelled to New York on four separate occasions for the purpose, and Miss French greeted him with warm tones and a slight blush in her cheeks every time. Her scent had changed from that first meeting, becoming rounder, more musky, drifting into his nose and making his heart thud in his chest with the urge to taste her. She wanted him, he could tell. Perhaps as much as he wanted her.

He had already left his mark on her, a warning to others who might desire her that she was already claimed, that she was under his protection as long as the mark lasted. It was done by a press of his lips, a damp circle on the back of her hand as he took his leave when they last met. It amused him no end that the gesture was seen as old-fashioned and gentlemanly. Certainly Miss French had blushed adorably when he had done it, and stammered out her own goodbye. To others of his kind, though, it was a warning. One with serious consequences, if ignored.

Putting his mark on her also had the effect of opening up her mind. It wouldn’t create desire, and he would never have bothered if he thought she found him repulsive. But she was attracted to him, he knew that very well. His mark would let her desire take form, would let her darkest fantasies come to life in her mind. She would dream of him, although not the true dreams in which he could touch her, in which he could taste her. Denying himself that pleasure was exquisite agony.

He thought of her waking in the night, gasping and reaching between her legs to give herself the pleasure that the dreams promised. It was enough to make him swell and harden in his pants, and he licked his lips at the images his mind conjured. He wanted to touch her himself, to make her scream with pleasure. He wanted to taste her. The encounter with Lacey only hardened his resolve. She was the one, and he would have her.

In the end, it was she that called him. She was looking to buy additional stock for her little shop, and wanted to sell an early edition of Middlemarch. He was more than happy to take it off her hands. In the circumstances.

It had been two days before Lacey had visited him for their coupling, and knowing that he would have another purpose to his trip, Gold had delayed giving Belle a date for his arrival in New York. He left Storybrooke not long after Lacey had wandered out of his life, driving south in his Cadillac, travelling through the night and checking into his favourite hotel. He called Miss French that morning, informing her that he would be visiting the shop at five that evening to view the book.

She greeted him with a wide smile and a deep blush that made her blue eyes shine. A white shirt clung to her curves, cap sleeves baring her arms beneath a little red cardigan and the top three buttons undone to reveal the hollow between her breasts. Her legs were bare beneath the flared black skirt she wore, high heeled shoes giving her a few extra inches. He was surprised to see it in the winter weather, but the sight of her naked skin made his mouth water as he imagined running his tongue up her inner thigh, tugging her underwear aside to taste her. He licked his lips, and wondered if she could sense the desire he felt for her, burning deep in his belly. Her hand shook a little as he took it, and he bent to kiss her knuckles, breathing in her scent. There was an edge to it, a need, and he felt himself smile before he straightened up. Perhaps this would be easier than he had thought.

He pretended to study the book she handed him, making a show of bargaining over the price, although he had never intended to give her anything less than what she asked, and when the deal was done, he turned his attention to the true purpose of his visit.

“Well, Miss French,” he said, setting the book carefully in his briefcase. “It appears our business is concluded. A pity. I’ve enjoyed our conversation.”

“So have I,” she said. “How long are you in the city?”

Gold showed his teeth.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said, closing his briefcase with a click. “The shop won’t run itself, alas.”

“That’s a shame,” she murmured, and he tilted his head.

“Well, if you should ever wish to dispose of other rare editions, I’d be obliged if you could give me first refusal. I’d offer you a very fair price.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” she said hastily, blushing a little. “It’s just - well, if this is your last night in the city, perhaps - perhaps we could have a drink?”

“A drink?” he said, allowing himself a tiny smile. “That sounds perfect.”

“Actually, I’m - I’m closing up now,” she said. “If you’re free.”

Gold straightened up, fingers flexing on the cane handle.

“I’m all yours.”

Belle had never met anyone quite like Mr Gold, and her instant and unexpected attraction to him had caused her some initial concern. She tried to make dating decisions based on personality traits and common interests rather than looks, but told herself firmly that this hadn’t changed with the arrival of the mysterious antique dealer. Mr Gold was, after all, intelligent, well-read, and with an appreciation for the rare and beautiful. Not that he wasn’t handsome; he had deep brown eyes and soft hair that hung around a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. But there was something else that drew her to him, her thoughts straying to him at the strangest times. There was an air about him, a heavy energy that made her skin tingle, that had made her breath catch at the first touch of his hand. Yes, she had to admit that she found him very attractive indeed.

She had wanted to ask him out the first time they had met, but had held off, thinking that impulsiveness wasn’t always one of her more admirable traits. He was much older than her, and she had told herself that he was probably married, although he wore no wedding ring. Still, it had always felt as though there was something between them. A weight to the atmosphere whenever he entered the shop, a spark of electricity in the air around them. The strength of her attraction was a little alarming, and so she had waited, all the while keeping an ear out for any mention of a wife or partner, anything that might suggest he was already taken. He wasn’t all that forthcoming with personal information, something she hoped to remedy.

The last time he had left the shop, he had kissed her hand with a slow press of soft lips. It was a gesture she would ordinarily have wrinkled her nose at, but which had made her heart thump and a heavy, insistent throb of desire start between her thighs. She had dreamed of him that night, a gloriously vivid dream in which he peeled off every stitch she wore and made her scream with pleasure. It made her blush to think of it, and his tiny, knowing grin when he had arrived that evening had almost made her suspect that he knew the erotic paths her mind had taken. It made negotiating the price for the book somewhat longer than it needed to be, but she couldn’t help thinking that he had gone easy on her, nonetheless. She told herself that asking someone for a drink was a normal, healthy part of adult life, and there was no need to turn it into a big deal. She also told herself that she had no intention of sleeping with him, even as she knew it was a blatant lie.

Once they left the shop, she took him to a bar around the corner, a small, humid place with good wine and terrible restrooms. Roni, the black-haired bartender, flashed Belle her usual wide smile, but eyed Gold with a suspicious, narrow-eyed stare as she set a bottle of wine and two glasses in front of them. She frowned at him as she turned away, and Belle was puzzled by her sudden hostility. Gold seemed unfazed, carrying the bottle to a nearby table as Belle brought the glasses. He pulled out her chair, waiting for her to sit before pushing it back, and then took his own seat. Roni passed again, still shooting him disapproving looks, and there was a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t think much of the service in this place,” he said lightly.

“I don’t get it, she’s usually so friendly,” mused Belle. “Do you know her?”

“No,” he said, pouring them each a glass of wine. “I shouldn’t worry about it. She’s probably worked out that I’m not really human.”

Belle giggled, raising a brow.

“Oh really?” she drawled. “Well, I suppose it is almost Halloween.”

“Here’s my costume,” he quipped, running a hand up and down his slim form.

“Terrifying.”

“I thought so.”

She grinned, reaching for her drink, and shook back her hair as red wine swirled in her glass, dark as blood. Gold reached for his own glass, taking a sip and setting it down.

“So what are you?” she asked. “Vampire? Werewolf?”

“Certainly not,” he said seriously. “I’m an ancient demon, proficient in the dark arts.”

“With a weakness for old books and antiques?” she teased, and he shrugged.

“We all have our hobbies.”

“I suppose even ancient demons have to pass the time between sacrifices,” she added, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Well, it’s been some time since I attended a thoroughly debauched ritual,” he admitted. “Getting a little old for that sort of thing.”

Belle giggled.

“Do demons ever get tired of doing demonic things?”

“Not really.” He took a sip of his wine, grinning at her. “It’s more a shift in priorities. I believe you humans are the same. As we get older, we start to focus on the more important things in life.”

“Defiling virgins out, family time in?”

Gold set down his glass with a smile.

“In order to do that, one must first have a family.”

“And you think having a drink with me is gonna fix that?” she asked. He returned her grin, spreading his fingers in a fan.

“Clearly it’s all part of my evil demonic plan.”

“Strange that I asked you out, then.”

“Perhaps you’re drawn to the darkness.”

It was said in a low voice, a throaty rumble in his throat that made her heart thump. Belle chuckled a little nervously, taking a sip of wine. It was good, warming her throat, and she took another, larger sip, sneaking a look at him over the rim of her glass. Something was pulling her to him, an alluring sense of mystery, of hunger. Perhaps it was darkness, after all. Odd, then, that she trusted him. Foolish, perhaps, given that she barely knew the man, but then she had always had a sense about people. His eyes caught hers, a sudden gleam of gold within their dark brown depths, and she shook her head, dropping her gaze.

“Where were we before we entered this bar and went down this very bizarre path?” she said. “Oh yes, you were telling me what a terrible recluse you are.”

He looked amused at that.

“Ask any of my neighbours.”

Belle pursed her lips.

“Maybe I will,” she said coyly. “What’s your home town like?”

Gold sucked his teeth, setting down his glass and sitting back.

“Small enough that everyone wants to know your business,” he said. “Large enough that they never quite manage it.”

Belle giggled at that, taking another sip of her wine.

“Even after two years, I feel like I don’t really know anyone here,” she confessed. “Big cities are kind of impersonal, aren’t they? I have a few regulars, of course, but it’s not the same as friends. I mean, I love running the shop, don’t get me wrong, but it’s kind of lonely at times.”

“I see.” He continued to watch her, fingers stroking the stem of his glass. “And what did you hope for, when you came to this city?”

Belle could feel that her smile was somewhat rueful.

“I was hoping that the bookstore would be an amazing success and in five years’ time I’d have a chain of them and a beautiful loft apartment,” she said. “Now I’m mostly hoping that I can pay next month’s bills on time and have a little left over for a new pair of shoes.”

“A simple enough dream,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “What about the rest? Friends? Family?”

Belle wrinkled her nose.

“My parents are both dead,” she said. “That’s how I got the shop. Dad left me a little money, so I figured I’d make a new start, in a new city.”

She chewed her lip, feeling sad, and took a drink to try to distract from her melancholy.

“What about you?” she asked, her voice cracking a little. “Do you live alone?”

“Yes.” He reached for his drink again. “You?”

“Oh, ever since I came here,” she said. “The apartment only has one bedroom.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to live alone.”

“True,” she agreed. “But I don’t seem to have much luck with relationships, to be honest.”

“I find that hard to imagine,” he said softly, and she shrugged awkwardly.

“Some people say I’m - odd,” she ventured. “That I’ll end up alone with my books and a dozen cats. I don’t know, maybe they’re right.”

Gold smirked, and raised his glass.

“Sounds like something to celebrate,” he suggested. “Fuck the lot of them.”

She giggled at that, and clinked her glass against his. He took a sip, setting down his glass.

“So,” he said. “No enormous hulking boyfriend waiting outside to attack me for having a drink with you?”

“God, no!” she said fervently. “I mean, I’ve dated, but it never usually gets past the second night. Maybe I’m too picky. Or too weird.”

“You think you’re weird?”

“You heard the crazy cat lady thing, right?” She raised her glass. “Scared yet?”

“Certainly not.”

Gold took a sip of his wine, the tip of his tongue sweeping across his lips to catch a stray droplet, dark as blood. His eyes met hers, and she felt her breath catch in her throat a little.

“And what about children?” he asked softly. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. “I guess I want it all. A job I love, a happy marriage and a couple of kids, and - and it occurs to me that this really isn’t a first date topic of conversation…”

Her voice trailed off lamely, but he smiled, settling back in his chair and spreading his legs a little wider.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said easily. “I find it’s better to be open about these things. Cuts down on the time-wasters.”

Belle laughed a little nervously, reaching for her wine.

“Careful,” she warned. “I’ll be telling you all my secrets soon.”

“Well, you already know mine,” he said, and she sent him an amused look.

“Of course,” she said earnestly. “How could I forget the professional defiler of virgins?”

“Retired,” he corrected, raising his glass, and she giggled.

“At least you haven’t run for the hills,” she noted, and his mouth twitched.

“I have no intention of running anywhere.”

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence, and she took another drink to cover it. Gold was watching her, fingers absently caressing the rim of his wine glass. The fingers were long and slender, his touch delicate, and she wondered if he was as careful with everything he handled. A heat was building in her, the throb of her pulse beating low down in her groin, and she squeezed her thighs together. One corner of his mouth pulled upwards, as though he could read her mind, and she tried to keep her thoughts out of the gutter. Gold put his head to the side.

“You said you didn’t date,” he said, and Belle pulled a face.

“Not really,” she said. “Nothing that counts as a - as a relationship.”

“And is a relationship what you want?” he asked. His voice was low and lilting. Soothing. A velvet tongue caressing her skin and making her shiver.

“I - it might - it might be nice,” she stammered, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks. “To have someone, I mean. Everyone needs someone, right?”

He smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming.

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

“Because the mysterious Mr Gold spends all his time alone, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then why are you here?” she countered, and his smile widened.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

He took a slow sip of his wine, his eyes catching and holding hers, making the blush in her cheeks deepen and an ache start low in her belly. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her skin prickling, as though it was too tight, and she sucked in a breath as he took another drink. He licked his lips again, and set down his glass.

“Do you live nearby, Miss French?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I live above the shop. Why?”

Gold shook back his hair, the tip of his tongue running over his lower lip as his eyes locked onto hers.

“I’d like to take you to bed,” he said quietly. “If you’re willing.”

“Yes! I mean—” She closed her eyes. “I mean - wow, that’s - that’s very - uh - direct.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and she caught a gleam of gold as his teeth showed.

“You said yes.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

She was blushing hard now, and she grabbed at her wine to hide it, almost choking as she took a large swallow.

“I - I don’t usually do this after I make a sale, you know,” she said, and he smiled.

“Nor do I.”

“So…” She gave him a rueful grin. “Are the two of us just a couple of book sluts, or what?”

Gold burst out laughing at that, his eyes gleaming.

“Imagine what could happen if I showed you my library,” he said, his voice a low, pleasant growl, and she pursed her lips.

“Telling me you have a library is serious foreplay, you know.”

He laughed again, a deep, rich sound that made her belly clench, and he reached for his glass, still smiling. She watched as he drank the last of the wine in it and set it down. A droplet ran down the side, a bead of deep red tracking across the base to spread around its edge. Gold licked his lips, raising his chin a little.

“Ready when you are.”

Belle blinked.

“What, you want to go now?”

He shrugged lazily.

“Why wait?”

Why indeed?

“Okay,” she said, and drank the last of her own wine, setting the glass down with a clink. “Let’s go.”

It was cold outside, and Belle shivered, leaning against him as she took his arm and they made their way back towards the shop. That atmosphere was still between them, heavy and electric, and her hands shook as she turned the key in the lock to let them into her apartment. It was as though she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, the brush of his fingers on her skin.

The apartment was dark, and she dropped her keys into the little pot she kept on the table by the door and went to flick on the lamp that stood by the couch. She shrugged out of her coat, sucking in a breath as she felt Gold take it from her and draw it down her arms. Her skin was tingling, her heart thumping, and she felt his cool breath by her ear, the closeness of him making her belly pull and tighten. There was a soft thump from the couch as he draped the coat over its arm, and she gasped as she felt his hands at her waist.

“Bedroom?” he murmured, his lips brushing the nape of her neck, and Belle shivered.

“Yeah - uh - just give me a minute,” she said, and pulled out of his grip.

She trotted to the bedroom, rushing to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, hurriedly snatching up the few clothes scattered on the floor and stuffing them in the drawers. Her heart was thumping hard in anticipation, and she kicked off her shoes and stacked them next to the dresser, out of the way. She shrugged out of the cardigan, tossing it aside, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright, her chest heaving. Excitement, and a touch of nervousness. It was exhilarating. She tugged the sheets straight, smoothing a hand over the midnight blue coverlet.

“Come in!” she called.

When Gold entered the room, he had taken off his overcoat and suit jacket, a waistcoat over the shirt of dark red silk. His shoes and socks were gone, leaving bare toes that sank into the thick pile of the rug by the end of the bed. A heavy, throbbing darkness seemed to swell and grow around him, blooming outward to wrap around her and pull her to him, and she stepped forward to run her hands up his chest, rising up on her toes as he bent his head to kiss her.

Gold parted her lips with his, tongue snaking into her mouth as a low moan came from her. The taste of her was sweet and heady. Ripe. He ran his hands down her back and over her hips, cupping her rear and pulling her tight against him, and Belle moaned again, fingers stroking through his hair. It felt good to kiss her, better than he had expected, and he had thought about it a lot over the past few weeks. He tugged her against him, knowing she would feel the hardness of him against her, and she moaned again and moved her hips a little, rubbing against him and sending jolts of sensation through him. He groaned, low in his throat, hands gripping her buttocks, and her fingers twisted in his hair.

She had risen up on her toes, and he slid his hands up to her waist, finding the zipper of her skirt and pulling it down before pushing the skirt over her hips to fall around her ankles. Belle kicked it away from her, and he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers as his hands moved around her body to pluck at the buttons of her shirt. Their lips were wet, her nose brushing his and her breath cool against his mouth, and her fingers stroked against his scalp as he unfastened the buttons one by one, down to her navel, letting the shirt gape open to expose her pale skin and the lace cups of her bra. She wore tiny high-leg panties in black mesh, and he could smell her arousal, a heady, musky scent that made him want to drop to his knees and taste her.

Her fingers had left his hair and were fumbling with the knot of his tie, and he helped her undo it, pulling the length of silk from around his throat and tossing it aside. Belle’s hands were shaking a little as she opened up his waistcoat, and he shrugged out of it, sending it to join his tie. He pressed his brow to hers again, tilting his head a little to capture her mouth with his, and she moaned as he kissed her, as his tongue gently stroked against hers. He let his hands fall to her waist, stroking upwards over soft skin to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over the taut peaks of her nipples where they pushed against the lace of her bra.

His hands slid upwards, pushing the shirt from her shoulders, and she dropped her arms and let it fall to the floor behind her. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, and he slipped his thumbs under the straps of her bra, drawing them down her arms as he turned his head and pressed his mouth to her neck. Belle rose up on her toes with a tiny cry, and he groaned as he sucked on her soft skin, tasting her. He reached around to find the clasp of the bra, unhooking it with a flick of his fingers and a tiny curl of magic, and she shook it from her, baring the pale mounds of her breasts with their hardened nipples.

He kissed lower, inhaling her scent, the delicate perfume of arousal that was surrounding her, and his mouth trailed over her breast to fasten over her nipple, sucking it in between his lips. Belle moaned, running her hands through his hair, and he growled as his hands cupped her, his tongue swirling over the taut peak. He kissed across to the left breast, tongue circling the nipple with a glistening trail of saliva before he sucked it into his mouth, and she let her head roll back with a gasp, her fingers tugging at his hair. Gold let the nipple slip from his mouth, straightening up as he kissed his way back up to nuzzle along her jaw to her ear, feeling a shiver go through her.

“Get on the bed,” he growled. “I want to taste you.”

She pulled back from him, her eyes flicking to his, her lips full and moist from his kisses. He watched as she climbed onto the bed in her underwear, lying back against the pillows with her knees up, her toes clutching at the dark blue blanket. He unbuttoned his shirt, watching her, one hand on her belly as it rose and fell with her breath. Her dark hair was spread out on the pillows, her eyes closed and lips parted. So beautiful.

He shrugged out of the shirt, tossing it aside before taking off his pants and underwear. His cock was hard, his balls full and heavy, and he knelt on the end of the bed, watching Belle’s eyelids flutter as he put his hands on her knees and slowly pushed them apart. She opened her legs a little, letting him slide his hands up her inner thighs, and he inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of her into his lungs. It made his mouth water, and he bent to kiss her, the skin of her thighs soft as silk against his lips. Belle moaned as he kissed higher, his fingers stalking upwards to grasp the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips a little, allowing him to draw them down, and he shifted backwards off the bed to pull them off at her feet and toss them away.

Belle had been beautiful fully-clothed, but naked she was perfection. His eyes roamed over her curves, the peaks of her breasts and the hollow of her navel, drawn downwards to the glistening pink folds of her sex. He licked his lips as he knelt between her legs, her scent pulling him to her, filling him with an urge to thrust his cock deep inside her and give her all that he had. He ran his hands up her thighs, pushing them apart, and bent to trail his nose up from her knee, following her delicious scent. She let out a tiny moan as his lips brushed her skin, as his hair stroked against her, and he pressed his lips to the glistening cleft between her legs, letting out a low, guttural growl at the first taste of her arousal.

He could feel his true form trying to assert itself, his long tongue coiling in his mouth, eager to be inside her, his tail itching at the base of his spine, wanting to lash out and bind her to him. It had been a long time since he had forgotten himself enough to lose control, but it was surprisingly difficult to suppress the demon part of himself in the presence of all her beauty. His hands slipped beneath her buttocks, lifting her closer to his mouth as he got himself under control. Perhaps just a little of his true form. Perhaps just the tongue.

He let it curl from between his lips, long and tapered, flickering over her wet flesh. Belle gave a cry of pleasure, arching her back, and he groaned in response, her flavour bursting over his tongue. She tasted of salt and musk and the ripe sweetness that meant he had timed his seduction to perfection, and his balls ached with desire, heavy with the seed he carried. His tongue pushed inside her, tasting her, stroking against slick walls and pushing through soft flesh. His cock twitched, eager to get inside her, to push deep and squirt the seed into her.

Drawing out the tongue, he gently slid a finger inside her, and she moaned, pushing her hips upwards. His tongue caressed her, delicately stroking against her clit as his finger thrust in and out, and Belle gasped, her fingers dragging through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. She was whimpering, her body stiffening as her climax neared, and his tongue flickered rapidly until she let out a loud cry of pleasure, wet flesh clamping around his finger. He drew it out with a low groan, whitish fluid leaking from her, and his tongue slithered back inside to taste her bliss. His groan rumbled lower, a deep, bass growl as her flavour sent pulses of desire through his body to his groin. She was jerking and moaning, her fingers tugging at his hair, and he groaned again as he sucked the cum from her. She was ready.

He pressed kisses to her mound and down her inner thighs as he pulled back, and rose up on his knees, hands sliding up her thighs as he shifted forward to lean over her. Belle had closed her eyes, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving. He leaned on the palms of his hands, shifting his body weight until he was pressed up against her, his cock achingly close to the wet flesh he longed to sink into. Belle’s eyes fluttered open, a slow smile spreading across her face, and she reached up to stroke his hair. Strands of it had were caught on his cheeks, sticky from her juices, and she brushed them back.

“That was amazing,” she murmured. “I hope you still have the energy for the rest of it.”

Gold showed his teeth.

“Oh, I won’t lack for energy, I assure you,” he said softly. “Although you might, by the time we’re done.”

“Confident, hmm?” Her eyes gleamed with amusement. “I like it.”

She slid a hand down between them, reaching between her legs to take him in hand, her warm palm curling around his cock and squeezing. It made him growl in pleasure, and Belle made a sound of approval. The hand moved, sliding lower, stroking against his balls, and her mouth opened as she sucked in a breath.

“Oh!” she whispered.

Her fingers stroked delicately, cupping his balls, tracing their shape, and he gritted his teeth, the pleasure of her touch exquisite. She grasped his cock again, lining them up, and her eyes flicked upwards to meet his. He could feel the heat of her against the head of his cock, soft, wet flesh cushioning it, waiting for him to open her up and thrust inside.

“Do you want this?” he asked softly. “Do you want what I can give you?”

“Yes!” she breathed.

He eased into her, letting out a low groan as he slid deep, as he pushed all the way into her. She was slick and hot and perfect, opening up to receive and hold him tightly, and he let his cock grow a little longer, the head pushing up against the firm wall of flesh that his tongue had explored. Belle had arched up into him, drawing up her knees to let him fill her completely, and he slid one hand beneath her lower back, tugging her close as he began to move his hips in long, slow circles, grinding against her, his cock sliding in and out of her slippery heat.

Belle moaned, letting her head roll back, eyes closed as she felt him move inside her. It felt incredible, every thrust of his hips sending a pulse of pleasure through her, making her cheeks flush and her skin hum. He seemed to be able to reach every part that drove her wild, and she enjoyed the warm solid feel of his body rubbing against her clit, his cock hard and thick inside her, a rigid shaft with its head stroking her in just the right spot. She let out a tiny cry, drawing her knees higher, letting him sink deeper, and he growled in response, his thrusts quickening a little.

She reached up to brush the hair from his eyes, sweat making his skin tacky against her fingertips. For a moment it was as though his eyes flashed gold, his gaze intense, but then he bent his head to kiss her, lips pulling at hers, his tongue snaking into her mouth to taste her. She clung to him, legs wrapping around his back, and he groaned into her mouth, his hips jerking as he thrust into her. She could feel pleasure rising up through her body again, a tide of bliss waiting to sweep over her, and she kissed him hungrily, chasing her climax, wanting to let it take them both.

Gold was lost in her, buried in her velvet heat with his tongue in her mouth and her legs wrapped around him, holding him tight. He wanted to let his human mask slip, to be his true self with her. He wanted to let his tail spring out and curl around them both, to let his wings fold a tent of warm leather around them, trapping their moist warmth and their mingled scents and the rhythmic sounds of their pleasure. It was impossible, of course, and so he concentrated on how she good she felt, on how sweet she tasted, on the slippery layer of sweat between their bodies and the sounds she made as he fucked her.

He pulled his mouth from hers with a wet, sucking noise, his breath coming hard as he felt his cock harden further, his climax nearing. There was the tingle of magic deep in his groin, spreading up from his balls, waiting to flow into her. He ran his hands up her body, cupping her breasts before sliding up her arms, his fingers threading through hers as he pushed her hands down into the pillows, and Belle moaned and arched up into him, squeezing his cock and sending a jolt of pleasure through him that made him gasp out an expletive.

“Fuck!”

A smile curled the edges of her beautiful mouth, and he quickened his pace, the magic rising up, spreading through his groin, pulling the seed from his balls. A wave of pleasure rushed over him, and he came with a long, groaning cry, his cock pulsing, seed pouring into her in a burst of heat. Belle let out a loud cry, her flesh squeezing him, her body writhing against his as she came. Her flesh tugged at him, pulling the seed from him, drawing it deep, and he pumped his hips, letting her take as much as she could, letting it fill her. Her nails raked his back, a delicious pain mixed with his pleasure, and she jerked and moaned, her pale skin turned pink in her chest and cheeks, her dark curls awry.

His cock was still pulsing faintly, and he let his head hang low as he tried to catch his breath. She reached up to push lazy fingers through his hair, a slow, rhythmic stroking as he inhaled the scent of her, the heady perfume of her pleasure that had wound its way into his brain. The combination of her touch and her scent was almost soporific, making him want to purr contently, and he tried to shake it off, raising his head to grin down at her.

“Well well,” he said softly. “That was - unexpected.”

Belle giggled a little, her eyes sparkling, fingers still dancing over his scalp and making him shiver deliciously.

“You could say that,” she agreed. “You could also say it was amazing.”

“Oh, it was certainly that.”

He kissed her, feeling her legs loosen their grip around his waist and fall to the sides, smooth thighs rubbing against his hips. He was still hard inside her, and he let his lips pull at hers, wanting to stay there for a moment longer, buried within her. Belle stretched a little, pointing her toes. The movement made her squeeze his cock, and he let out a contented, rumbling growl. She reached up to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing over his lower lip.

“So,” she said. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“I am,” he confirmed. “As I said, the store won’t run itself.”

“Hmm.” Her fingers slid around to the nape of his neck, plucking at the soft strands of hair. “I guess that means you could stay here a little longer. If you wanted.”

Gold’s smile widened.

“I’d like that very much.”

He bent to kiss her, and she twined her arms around his neck, her tongue stroking against his as he rolled them onto their sides to pull her close. It wasn’t as though he needed to sleep, after all.

As the clock approached four, Gold tugged the knot of his tie tight around his throat, eyeing his reflection in the dresser’s mirror, his features shaded blue in the dim moonlight. In the bed behind him, Belle twitched and sighed in her sleep, rolling onto her back, and he turned slowly on the toes of his shoes to face her. The sheets had been pushed down to her waist, baring her breasts and belly, and he laid his palm on the flat of her stomach, smirking as he felt the spark of life inside her. He bent to kiss her, a brief press of his lips against her skin, giving her his protection once more. Her and the child.

Silently, he slipped from the bedroom, closing the door behind him and searching for his shoes and socks. Drawing on his coat, he fished in his wallet for a business card, a rectangle of thick cream card with his name and Maine address on. Hesitating only slightly, he wrote on the back in neat, slanting letters: Until we meet again x.

He set the card on the hall table, where she would easily see it, and after a moment’s hesitation, swirled his fingers with a muttered incantation, conjuring a rose to lay beside it, its red petals studded with dew. He shook his head ruefully at the gesture, but he suspected Miss French would appreciate it. If not his leaving in the middle of the night.

He tugged the coat around himself. The mirror near the front door threw his reflection back at him, and he smirked to himself as he straightened his collar. Time to leave the all-too-intriguing human with her books and her tea and her dazzling smile and her gentle touch. Time to return to the relative sanity of his solitary life, free of the distractions she offered. For now, at least. It was not the end.

He slipped out of the apartment, heading down to the street below, the cold air sharp in his lungs as he set off back to his hotel. Ducking into the alleyway that led to the bar where they had met, he felt a prickle between his shoulder blades, and paused, his fingers tightening on the cane he held.

“Well, you may as well come out and stop lurking,” he said, and a figure appeared, sliding from the shadows as it took form. The dark-haired bartender. Roni. She smirked at him, one eyebrow quirking in amusement.

“So,” she said. “You fucked her, then.”

Gold smiled as he settled the cane between his legs, fingers flexing on the handle.

“A gentleman never tells.”

“Gentleman, my ass!” she said flatly. “You tell her who you really are?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“And she believed you?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmm.”

She curled her lip, and he raised a brow.

“Are you gonna tell her?”

“What, you think I’m a traitor to my own kind?” she said levelly. “Your business is your own, just don’t do it in my neighbourhood again. I don’t have the energy to settle territorial disputes. Might blast your nuts off without thinking it through.”

“Well, thank you for the warning,” he said dryly. “I’ll be out of your hair in a few hours.”

“Good.”

“I imagine when I see her again, it’ll be on my territory,” he added.

“When you see her again?” She folded her arms, red lips curving in a grin. “You like her!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said stiffly. “It’s for the continuation of our kind, nothing more.”

“She’ll be disappointed.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“You clearly don’t know her too well.”

“Are you telling me you do?”

She shrugged, grinning at him, and he could feel his irritation rise.

“You know, you could easily contribute to our dwindling numbers yourself, instead of giving me a hard time about it,” he snapped, and Roni snorted softly.

“I don’t think so,” she said, with feeling. “Can’t really get past the whole ‘having sex with men’ part.”

“What?” he said, bewildered.

“Oh, I like girls,” she explained.

Gold stepped forward, feeling an unexpected surge of possessiveness.

“Miss French is under my protection,” he growled, and she rolled her eyes.

“I know that, I can smell you all over her,” she snapped. “Besides, she’s not my type. I like blondes.”

He grunted, satisfied.

“Well, good luck with that.”

“Good luck to you too.”

He nodded cautiously, stepping around her and heading off.

“Be careful,” she called after him. “Humans can be unpredictable. You may find yourself making a deal you don’t understand.”

“Never happened before.”

“First time for everything,” she said. “I hear things in that bar. Get a lot of visitors from our world, and there’s always one of our kind who manages to lose out to the humans.”

“Well, it’s not gonna be me,” he said coldly.

“If you say so.”

His jaw tightened, but he walked on, feeling her eyes on his back. There was a low-level feeling of unease creeping through him, a sense that perhaps he had underestimated the balance of power, that he had made a fundamental error in his grand plan. He shook his head, dispelling the unwelcome doubts. Belle would do as he predicted, which meant that sooner or later, she would come to find him. If only for the briefest of moments, he would see her again.

#fic: original sin verse #fic: indulgence #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic #lemon fic #rather large estate #rumbelle monster's ball

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thewinterstoner · 7 years ago

Text

❈Smoldering Ashes❈

Joseph Seed x Female!Deputy

Word Count: 1,366

AN|| For the lovely @azm0n who’s drawing my OC with Joseph!! Bare with me guys, this is the first time I’ve ever posted my writing on here I normally post it onto Wattpad. Also this is post-game, so there will be end-game spoilers. The song is called “Through The Valley” by Shawn James, and I suggest listening to that while reading this. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!! If anyone else wants to request something my inbox is open because I really enjoy writing.

(My Wattpad | My Other Works)

It had been an entire four months stuck in this bunker with her ‘enemy’ if she could even call him that anymore. He was right, about the collapse, about her being the undoing of it all. Whether he really talked to God or not, he knew what was coming and that in itself changed her entire perspective on him.

Along with the fact that he carried her all the way back to the bunker, saving her life before nursing her back to health from the injuries she received in the crash. He was always so polite to her, and let her out of her handcuffs once he knew she wouldn’t kill him, even after she took his family away from him. Thinking back on it she can’t help but sigh audibly.

Being in this bunker for so long with practically nothing to do was starting to drive her crazy. Especially after running all around Hope County for the many months before the world ended non-stop and always having something she needed to do. So with that thought, she stood from her spot on the bed in the room she was originally handcuffed to and wandered around the bunker.

For the past couple of days August had a song stuck in her head, and she felt like singing since it had been so long since she last sang anything. Luckily enough for her, Dutch had an acoustic guitar in his bunker which made her smile ever so slightly because she loved playing.

Grabbing the guitar from its spot propped against the wall she makes her way back to the room and sat on the bed. August hopes that she won’t disturb whatever Joseph is doing in one of the other rooms of the bunker, but she just had to play something. She needed to get her mind off of all her friends she let down in the end.

With a deep breath she plucks at the strings of the guitar, making sure that it’s tuned properly before starting the song. Once she’s sure it sounds the way it’s supposed to she starts strumming the melody of the song.

“I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And I’ll fear no evil because I’m blind to it all, and my mind and my gun they comfort me. Because I know I’ll kill my enemies when they come. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell on this earth forevermore. Still I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul, but I can’t walk on the path of the right because I’m wrong.” August sings as she continues playing the cords, knowing Joseph probably can hear her but she doesn’t mind.

From the other room the sound of her singing and playing guitar makes Joseph’s head perk up from the bible he was reading while sitting on the couch in the room next to August’s. Her voice intrigued him, making him want to get closer to the sound. So he closes his bible and exits the room, sitting against the wall next to her doors opening.

“Well I came upon a man at the top of a hill, called himself the savior of the human race. Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said how can you save the world from itself?” August whistles the tune that she knows comes in between the lyrics before continuing to sing them.

“Cause I walk through the valley of the shadow of death and I’ll fear no evil cause I’m blind. And I walk beside the still waters and restore my soul, but I know when I die my soul is damned.” She shakily finishes the lyrics, her voice quavering as tears start to form as she’s strumming the last few cords.

Joseph can hear the small quaver in her voice as she finishes the song, and soon after the last cords are played he can hear a quiet sniffle. Assuming she’s crying he stands from his spot on the floor and walks into her view standing in the doorway.

“What’s the matter August?” Joseph questions as he leans against the door frame seeing the tear tracks on her cheeks confirming his theory.

“N-Nothing, I’m fine...” August blurts out as she tries to quickly wipe her tears from her face once he made his presence known to her.

“Now August, I know that’s not true. You’re crying.” He states as he walks nearer to her, crouching down in front of her sitting form, “Yell, scream, cry, please just say something, anything. I want to help.

Knowing he was caring about her wellbeing and why she was crying, she can’t help but feel her heart flutter slightly in her chest. And the tears start pouring freely again when her eyes lock with his, seeing his own pain deep within them, and his words opening the floodgates for the second time.

With a sniffle and a deep breath she looks away from him as she says, “Everyone I love is dead, and it’s my fault. Your family is dead, and it’s my fault. Countless innocent people are dead, and it’s my fault. I failed everyone, I failed my friends, I failed everyone I love. The world is on fire because of me. You tried to warn me time and time again but my Pride had to get the better of me. I couldn’t just leave well enough alone, I couldn’t just walk away from the start. This isn’t what I wanted to happen.”

“We all make mistakes, my dear August. But all we can do is learn from them and move past them. Dwelling on the past and the people we lost will only make us miserable, our friends, our family, wouldn’t want to know we were miserable because we lost them. They would want us to remember them and all the good times we had with them. Our sins tempt us to do things we shouldn’t, but we have to fight them. You do know I forgive you, right?” Joseph tells her as he gently places one hand on her shoulder, not knowing how she would react to him doing so.

“You... you what?” She asks in disbelief as she stares into his eyes, tears still freely falling from her now bright red eyes.

“I forgive you. For everything. You knew not what you were doing, you don’t deserve to continue punishing yourself day after day for the things that you’ve done.” Joseph says, speaking softly to her as he uses his free hand to gently brush away the tears falling from her eyes, “People change, and people grow, and I have Faith that this time you will do what’s right. And when it’s time, we will rebuild our family and march through Eden’s Gate together.”

“Wow... Joseph, thank you.” August replies breathlessly, a few more stray tears running down her face as she takes in his words completely.

“You’re more than welcome. Now you look like you could use a hug, may I?” Joseph asks as he finally sits next to her on the bed, his legs growing tired from the crouching position he was previously in.

All she could do was nod her head and mumble a barely audible, “Yes.”

Once he got her permission he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, hugging her tightly against him but not quite tight enough to hurt her. Just tight enough that she can tell he’s grown to care about her over the months together in this bunker, and that was just what she needed in this moment.

After a few minutes Joseph goes to pull away from the hug, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by holding her longer than she wanted him to. But when he goes to pull away she reluctantly pulls him back, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Please stay just a little bit longer.” August mumbles quietly to him, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” Joseph replies before placing a feather-like kiss on the top of her head.

#InsideJosephsGateWrites #I’m so nervous posting my writing on here for the first time #But I hope you all enjoy it!!#My Writing #My Post #Writing #Writeblr #Fanfiction #One Shot #Far Cry 5 Fanfiction #Far Cry 5 #Joseph Seed #Female Deputy #Joseph Seed x Deputy #Joseph Seed x F!Deputy

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tisfan · 7 years ago

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And Tell Me Did Venus Blow Your Mind

(Was it everything you wanted to find)

[Part One: Lift Your Eyes and Let Me In (’Cause Baby I’m an Alien Like You)]

So, space was terrifying.

Not that Tony didn’t know that. Not that he didn’t realize that before he said goodbye to everything that he knew to venture out into the unknown.

Well, unknown to him. Peter and the rest of the Milano’s crew were pretty familiar with space. Although any of them (including Peter, who was actually a Terran and it might have been nice if he remembered that sometimes before commenting on how backwater Terra was) would have said that Terra was alien and unfamiliar. Not a part of the larger galaxy. Just a tiny little planet that really, no one noticed or cared much about.

That was both humbling and weirdly soothing at the same time. Tony Stark on Terra: Big Deal. Tony Stark in the wider galaxy: Non-entity.

“I’ve never been a nobody before,” Tony commented. He was sitting in what Peter called the copilot’s chair, but his hands were well away from the controls. A copilot was seldom necessary and Gamora had already told him that she’d bodily rip him from the chair and throw him across the ship if a copilot was required. Drax had laughed at that, Rocket had made some disparaging comments about humies and their inability to function like normal people, and did he know what a pencil was, which was just rude, and pretty much par for the course as far as Rocket was concerned. Groot announced that, once again, he was Groot.

“You’re not nobody,” Peter insisted. “You’re Star Lord’s consort. That makes you somebody. Just somebody to a very small, select group of highly unstable people.”

“Well, that sounds about like home, yeah,” Tony said. He couldn’t help but smile at that. Boyfriend. It was a nice word. And Peter, unlike everyone else Tony had ever been claimed by, didn’t care about all the rest of the baggage that went with dating Tony Stark. Playboy, billionaire, philanthropist, genius, superhero, merchant of death. None of that was important to someone who was, as Rocket said, a two-time galaxy savior.

Tony was keeping his eyes on Peter’s hands as he moved the various knobs and levers, punched buttons and flipped switches. There were four screens, solid-light or some similar tech. For a spaceship, the Milano was a little retro. The stick was like sticks for ships and planes everywhere that Tony had ever seen. Roll, pitch, yaw, and go.

“Does it take long to learn to pilot?” Tony asked. He still hadn’t looked out the front window, keeping his gaze firm fixed below the ship’s dash.

(read more, or the whole thing on A03 [x])

“Yondu taught me to fly when I was ten,” Peter said. “I was piloting the Milano on solo missions at thirteen. Now, most of that was because I had the patience of a Nartilibian, and about as much sense, so I kept stealin’ M ships and running off with ‘em. Might also had somethin’ to do with how Yondu kept threatening to let the crew eat me, if I kept misbehaving. I’m almost positive that was a joke. But the almost is still a bit worrisome.”

Tony blinked. “Is that a thing that happens?”

Peter shrugged, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. “Hasn’t happened to me, but there aren’t so many Terrans in the galaxy that we exactly have equal representation at a council hearing or anything. Who’s gonna argue?”

“There aren’t laws against that sort of thing?”

“Well, that depends on whether or not you consider humies to be intelligent life forms or not,” Rocket said, coming up behind them. “Some of us do not.”

Tony hid a smile behind his hand, scratching at his beard. Rocket did not like it when he thought Tony wasn’t taking him seriously enough, and Rocket was also pretty damned disgusted by Terra’s lack of scientific advancement. Even the Iron Man suit -- which Tony had upgraded to be space-worthy before they’d left -- was bulky and pointless, as far as the raccoon was concerned. Of course, calling Rocket a raccoon was asking for more trouble, but since it was trouble that Peter appeared to delight in anyway, Tony allowed himself to slip up. From time to time.

“So, Quill, we’re uh, within a few jumps of landing on Archeopia, right?” Drax asked. He was hanging in the pilot’s bay, one hand on the main support-strut.

“Yes, Drax,” Peter said, carefully. “That was, indeed, on the list. Delivery of four hundred barrels of sunflower seeds, Terran-grown. As requested, and I might add, prepaid for delivery, so please tell me that you did not come up here to tell me that, I don’t know, Groot’s decided they’re long-lost kin or something?”

“I did not come up here to tell you that Groot’s adopted the seedlings,” Drax said, dutifully. “I am here to tell you that sunflower seeds are delicious. And also, if you spin the barrel around really really fast in the gravity room, it makes a wonderful pasty substance that can be eaten between slices of bread.”

Peter groaned. “How many?”

“Two.”

“Not slices of bread, you hulking portable stomach. How many barrels did you eat?”

Drax belched, loudly. “Six.”

“Well, I suppose that’s an improvement,” Peter said, tipping his head back and forth. “Don’t eat any more of it, though.” He sighed as Drax wandered off. “One day, just one trip, one job, one… hour.”

“I’ll pencil you in for an hour, after dinner,” Tony suggested, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Peter grinned. “I actually do have you pencilled in for dinner, and after dinner. Archeopia’s a nice planet, very scenic. I thought… we might have a picnic.”

That was going hand in hand with some of Tony’s earlier dates with Quill, all simple stuff that he could manage without having access to the Stark Fortune in space. Hard to wine and dine a guy when he was your meal ticket, Tony thought, trying to avoid squirming in the co-pilot’s chair, feeling just a little guilty about it.

“Tell me about the planet,” Tony suggested.

Quill waxed poetic for a while; Archeopia’s main population were aviary folk; they’d been through some pretty terrible things, including being tracked down and slaughtered by Peter’s father, which was how Peter ended up discovering them in the first place. Tony knew a little bit about trying to make up for a father’s sins.

“Technically, this isn’t their original planet, the original one was destroyed centuries ago, but some of them were out wandering -- that’s what the space-faring group of them calls themselves, the Wanderers. Kinda like Ronin or something, that’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, Angry Birds in Space,” Tony agreed. “It’s cool. Totally a thing.”

“But they picked this one because it’s just… wild and overgrown, and there’s lots of trees. I thought it’d be a good place for a picnic,” Peter went on. He touched Tony’s wrist, rubbed his thumb gently over the pulse point. “Want to show you the galaxy, sunshine.”

Tony couldn’t help but hum into Peter’s touch; there was something about that thumb on his wrist that felt intimate, a private caress that Peter did, no matter where they were. No matter who they were standing in front of. Tony had to admit, he liked it.

There were things Tony knew about space and extraterrestrial planets and then there were things that he’d been told. And then there were things he had to learn about the hard way.

Gravity.

That was a thing.

Now, Tony was perfectly aware that different planetary densities and size would make for different gravities; what he hadn’t accounted for was that there were personal graviton devices. Peter had given him one, the first time they’d docked the Milano. The disc stuck to the back of Tony’s neck, interacted with the gravity on whatever planet they were on, and adjusted it for earth-norm, so he could walk, breathe, and generally be able to operate as normal -- some species who were more space-faring than his own had used the various gravities to their advantage; heavy gravity planet aliens were stronger and denser than Terrans.

And while Tony’s gravity wasn’t the lightest out there, earth-normal was less than the average. Earth was a tiny, backwater planet…

And he’d adjusted; not worried about it too much.

Right up until he was on Archeopia, which had a very light gravity. With a population that flew, so they hadn’t bothered to develop or install the graviton fields that allowed Tony’s disc to work.

When Tony stumbled under the light gravity, he’d launched himself off the side of the flet where they’d docked. Which was supremely bad, since the flet was a good eighty stories up, at least, and while the gravity was light, he would still fall eventually. And he’d already been warned that the jungle under the canopy was a dangerous place, filled with wild and poisonous beasts.

Peter’d been forced to rescue him; diving after Tony with those rocket boots on, red leather coat flapping in the breeze. He’d looked like a space angel to Tony as he dropped into position and caught Tony up in a princess carry.

“My hero,” Tony said, with a nervous burst of laughter.

“Hey, sunshine,” Peter said. “You want me to carry you over the threshold, all you gotta do is ask.”

Tony was going to very carefully not think about that for a while; he was still enjoying the novelty of having a boyfriend that actually seemed to like him. Pepper had been great, but she was always exasperated with him and his antics. Steve… well, the less he thought about that, the happier Tony was going to be. Peter was different. He didn’t seem to mind anything, found Tony endlessly fascinating and amusing, and what was even weirder, he didn’t laugh at Tony when Tony wasn’t trying to be funny, which was a real switch up.

“I feel like Wendy in Peter Pan,” Tony complained, changing the subject.

Peter smirked. “I’ll never grow up.” And then he kissed Tony while they were flying, spinning them around in dizzying circles until Tony was clinging to him and panting for breath, legs wrapped around Peter’s hips.

The second thing he learned the hard way was that all alien food was not created equal.

Tony wasn’t sure how he could have forgotten to worry about that; Pepper, for instance, was allergic to strawberries, which was an earth person, unable to eat a food from earth. How messed up was that? He’d passed on some of the more exotic fare that Peter had tried to interest him in; anything that moved, wriggled, or was in some still alive while it was being eaten. (Drax in particular had a fondness for flarn, a writhing mass of something green and chewy and the less Tony thought about that, the better able he was to keep from heaving into the nearest trash receptacle.)

But plants, and the meats of some of the various planetary life-forms had been acceptable. He never ate anything that Peter didn’t also eat, which seemed safe. Mostly.

Except that it wasn’t, and apparently Tony was somewhat allergic to a meat-product called spoo, a pale blueish meat that had roughly the same consistency of tofu and was insanely delicious. And made Tony break out into unattractive patches of greenish rash across his throat and torso. He also started gasping for air and they had to cut their picnic short for a trip to the somewhat dubious comfort of the local hospital.

Or, whatever passed for it, thereabouts.

The medic; a brawny canary-yellow bird man, complete with feathers, beak and clawed feet, supposedly had studied some xeno-biology, but the first few treatment options actually made things worse, until Tony was covered in boils and vomiting every other hour. Gamora had rolled her eyes a few times and placed a call to the Nova medics on Xander. She and Rocket mixed a few things up, injected Tony in the ass with a needle the size of a screwdriver, which seemed really unnecessary, and given that Rocket was involved, Tony wasn’t quite sure it was accidental, but at least it cleared everything up in about an hour.

And the day might not have been a complete wash, except that apparently rumor had spread that Starlord was in port.

They were just headed back to the Milano, Tony leaning heavily on his boyfriend’s arm, when Peter brightened. “Delara?”

A blue-skinned woman with leathery scalp-tendrils was waiting for them, leaning on the wall outside the ship’s port. “Peter!” She strode over and hauled back, slapping Peter across the face, hard enough that Tony staggered and nearly fell over.

“Nice to see you, too,” Peter snapped, adjusting his jaw.

“Asshole,” she spat, and flounced away.

Peter watched her go, then shrugged, not even embarrassed. “Pretty sure I deserved that.”

A moment later, another -- woman? Person? Tony wasn’t sure, he’d never quite seen an alien like that, all tentacley and green and -- yelled at them. Peter groaned. “Lorrrrr’sa, darlin’,” he started, and the alien backhanded (back tentacled?) him with several limbs.

“Mighta deserved that, too,” Peter said. He shook his head, a series of little red welts popping up on his cheek where the suckers had gotten him.

“You’re very… popular,” Tony commented, dryly.

“Yeah, well,” Peter said -- was he blushing? “What can I say? I was waiting for you, but I wasn’t doing it alone.”

Tony laughed. “You don’t have to apologize to me for having your wild oats. I’m the very last person to complain about a thing like that.”

“At least you never banged an A’askvarian,” Peter said, gesturing back toward the octopoid. “You would not believe the places they have teeth.”

“Quill!” Another angry, female voice, and Peter turned, catching someone’s arm before they slapped him.

“No, Nebula,” Peter said. He shook her arm a few times and threw her backward. “Not from you. Go bother your sister. What are you even doing here?”

The woman, a blue-skinned cyborg with no hair, scowled at him, all teeth and anger. “I need a ride.”

“Oh, well, fuck, of course you can come on board, you psycho hose beast.”

“Thank you.” She stalked off toward the Milano.

“I didn’t mean it!” Peter cried after her, but she was already onboard.

“Gamora’s sister?” Tony guessed. He hadn’t met Nebula, but he’d certainly heard about her before, adopted daughter of Thanos, trauma for days, and a streak of I want to hurt Someone and I don’t Particularly Care Who It Is a mile wide.

“Yeah, she’s… a real sweetheart,” Peter said, in a voice that meant anything but. “You’ll like her.”

“I’m sure,” Tony said. They boarded the ship and Peter helped Tony back into their bunk, pulling the blankets down and all but tucking him in like a toddler.

“Sunshine,” Peter started, brushing a tangle of his brown curls out of his face, “look, I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Worst. Date. Ever.”

Tony laughed. “Oh, honey, you don’t even come close,” he said. “It’s been a rough day, I’ll give you that, but… in the end, I’m still in space. And I’m still with you. And you, honey, you rock my world.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s a good thing?”

“That’s a good thing,” Tony said. “Now kiss me goodnight and we’ll try to make tomorrow better.”

Peter kissed him, tentative at first, as if he was still somehow afraid that Tony was going to reject him. God knew, it had been a bad day, a bad date, but that didn’t make Peter a bad boyfriend. Tony knew the difference. Peter was still there, still wanting to make things better, still wanting to be with Tony, no matter how high maintenance Tony was. He kissed like Tony was some fragile, dissolvable thing that might vanish at any moment.

Passion swirled to life in the few inches between their bodies and Tony pulled Peter closer, relishing the feel of Peter’s heat, the solid chest, strong arms, smooth skin. He let his hands wander, touching Peter’s back, his throat, the side of his face. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough. Peter was all masculine energy, human enthusiasm, and alien novelty all at once. Something Tony would never want to be without.

“Starlord,” he murmured, tempting Peter’s mouth into falling open, letting his tongue slip between Peter’s lips. “My starlord.” His fingers ached for the feel of Peter’s bare skin under him, over him, any way he could get it.

Peter was like the very best sort of temptation. Tony hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in the last three years, at least, but he was drunk on Peter’s taste. It was love; it had to be.

“You gonna blow my mind, sunshine?” Peter drew back a little, grinning.

“Among other things, yes.”

#spaceboyfriends #tony x peter #tony stark #peter quill #dating in space #worst date ever

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dustybunny · 7 years ago

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NSFW ABCs - Jacob Frye p.1

ohhhh boy have i sinned

after lurking around long enough ive kinda decided to step up my game here!! kinda !!

tried to keep it gender neutral! so everyone can enjoy the Rook<33

please enjoy and please dont tell my mother

ALSO PLEASE NOTE THESE ARE JUST MY HEADCANONS!!

its perfectly fine agree to disagree <33

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

There’s a reason I joke that this scruffy Rook is like a puppy. Overly active and very high energy, but the moment he’s spent hes out like a light. He’ll pull you close, something of a sweet nothing mumbled into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped loosely but close. Next thing you know, you’re trapped against a fool of a gangster, gentle snores eventually lulling you to sleep.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s more then a little proud of his chest and arms. Why else would he go into those fights shirtless, taking more then a few moments to wink at you before delivering some poor sod a sucker punch? He’s all glistening and flexed, not to mention all riled up from the adrenaline. As for you, he’s totally an ass man, but also loves your neck. It’s where most of his kisses find home on you, neighbors with the hickeys and love bites on your collarbone.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

OH BOY. This darling is more then sheepishly proud of the mess he can make, either by his own hand (hah) or with the help of his lovely assistant. Expect whines and groans when he can’t really savor the sight of his seed on you, rolling down the delicious curves of your body, or dripping smooth and sweet from your pleasure.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

During the early days of learning how to free-run, Jacob often practiced alone at night, in an attempt to try and one-up his twin to show off to their father. Not long after nightfall, Jacob snuck out, heading down a few roads before climbing up the side of a villagers home to make it to the roof. However, upon reaching the second story window, curious hazel eyes peered in, right as a silk nightgown hit the floor. He stayed for a bit, unsure of how to continue with a straining new friend in his trousers, and the woman before him doing things he wasn’t sure were possible without proper stretching. He ran straight home, not caring if Evie heard him stumbling back inside, to quietly ease his “burden to bare.”

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

While he’d love to say hes quite the ladies man, he simply cannot. Any of his past girlfriends were only momentary, since training, lessons and his own dangerous lifestyle exploring stole away most of his attention and time. By the time he reached London, he’d maybe only spent a couple of nights in different beds. He knows what to do, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing, in a mildly sexually frustrating manner.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary, without a doubt. Having a front row seat to his lover’s moans and mewls to his touch, gasps and breaths against his skin when he holds them close, the pure sight of their pleasure so clear and beautiful on their face. He can’t pass that up, not for anything.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Please, this is Jacob. Moments of silly are instantaneous, it just comes with loving the poor sod. Lost in warmth and bliss, feeling so whole, so filled and so-- Scratchy. A lovable fool’s grin wide and buried in your neck, short coarse stubble ticking at the tender spot above your collarbone, laughter bringing nearly tears. Never fear, a few half-hearted thumps to his back, and he’ll stop. Maybe.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

You’ve seen him in the fights underground, sort of. You try so hard to pay attention, cheering and trying to find his opponents weaknesses and help point out openings, but your eye keeps catching glimpses of his chest. Broad and strong, thick tufts of hair across and down, just down to the hem of his trousers before out of sight, and enough to make your mind wander and a heat already on your cheeks. As for the hair hidden under the top hat, its wonderful to the touch, all volume and perfect for encouraging tugs, and arguably looks the best all tussled from rolling in the bed sheets.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Oh dear. “Always expect the unexpected,” a simple bit of advice given by his twin, echoed by her own partner, originally meant as in general and once again when the younger twin asked you to drinks. Jacob will do his best to show you his love for you, how much you mean. But good god does his reckless abandon get him trouble. Sudden kisses from him maybe have caused a bloody nose from him whipping around the corner to, in his panicked words, “give a special surprise.” Spontaneous dancing to your favorite pub song ended in a twirl gone awry and his clunky boot meeting your toes. He gets himself caught up in it, starts thinking with his heart. And bless the poor boy, his heart is yours.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Typically, its his favored way to handle the morning wood. Its only when he gets an image stuck in his head will he do it on his own. His imagination is wonderfully vivid; watching you fix your stockings in the morning suddenly becomes the image of your thighs in his hands, thrusts powerful and filling, the sounds of skin and sweat and your sweet little cries of his name, bringing him closer and closer before he just can’t take it anymore.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

At first, Jacob is pretty vanilla. It goes with the “knows what to do, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing” thing. But maybe one night, offer to blindfold him. It’ll take some convincing, but once you do, he will do more then show his appreciation after. Not being able to see you, only hear you, feel you, it does things to him. His already vivid imagination going wild, wanting to feel the soft skin of your legs in his hands, the soft buds of your nipples just gracing his chest and wanting nothing more then them in his mouth and fingers teasing your entrance. After that, Jacob will start suggesting things, like presenting a maybe borrowed pair of handcuffs from Abberline. The only rule is that what he does to you, you get to do to him.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere to love you is normally the best, but he loves being with you on the train. It doesn’t even have to be the Rooks train either. Hands on your hips, leg between yours, his more then apparent cock hard against your lower back. However, on the hideout train is that cute little bed. And the bar, and the booth, and several desks and tables…

Come to think of it, there may have been more then a couple nights of christening that damn train.

#assassins creed #asscreed #jacob frye #do u hear that #its me trying not to die from being so flustered after writing all this orz #and theres more coming!!#hah #part 2 will be later promise<33 #also have already started on connor and arno if youd like to see more!!#also just hella embarrassed bc first time posting my writings aHHHH

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beyondthetemples-ooc · 5 years ago

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Fanfic Asks

Found here: https://itsreallylaterightnow.tumblr.com/post/615345458657771520/

1. who is the hardest character for you to write? Oh gods, it's gotta be Gar. I don't do the Spontaneous Goofy Silly thing. I just have absolutely no idea how to write a goofball because I really don't connect to Being a goofball whatsoever, especially one who's So Totally Opposite of myself. Although, if OCs count, it might also be Kary, because she's also spontaneous, but she's pretty rage-y about it and has a VERY sour attitude towards strangers, she's totally silly and teasing around friends, flirty around cute people-- she just takes a lot of energy to keep up with.

2. who is the easiest character for you to write? Dove? Does Dove count? Because she's my OC baby and I've written more for her than any other character in any universe. But if OCs don't count, it's gotta be Raven. I can write for HOURS about things like empathy, meditation, reading, the ins and outs of what emotional control does to your mind and relationships, and having A Dark Side that you're too compassionate to ever give in to. I've spent more than 15 years of my life obsessed with her, analyzing her, noticing her traits and extrapolating as much as I can based on a wealth of canon glimpses into her deeper layers. She's the character I "get" more than any other character aside from the ones that spawned from my own head.

3. How do you know if your writing is “in character”? If I can read the dialogue and hear it in their voice, I've got 'em down. c: I overanalayze a LOT about the characters: their phrasing and linguistic quirks especially, but also their actions, their motivations, their personality-- though, to be fair, Marv Wolfman did a lot of Deep Dives into what makes each character tick, which makes writing fanfic for the Titans a bit of a cakewalk. It's still tricky, especially given that I write in a sort of amalgam universe stuck between the comics and cartoon, so characterization is always a bit of a gray area. But I can generally tell if Something Is Off about a line or action. Don't always know how to fix it, though...

With only such very, very RARE exception. Some scenes are inspired by my own experience, some are inspired by other media (even if I didn't really enjoy it, if I liked a particular line of thought, a scene might sprout from that planted seed). The Final Journey was heavily inspired by a book called Toes by Tor Seidler, at least the very last part of the book.

I have no fucking idea where DDD came from though, that one honestly just spiraled way out of Dove's control, and then out of MY control, and the entire writing process was just a desperate scramble to capture her breakdown and PRAY she'd get out of all this madness alive. Yes, my own experience informed HOW to write about it, what it might feel like, but the idea for "Dove slips up So Fucking Badly she kills people"? What the HELL.

5. Do you tell the people in your life that you write fics? Everyone who's REALLY close to me knows about Dove. Some of them know about Srentha and Kary, I think few of them know about Leyla... I tell everyone I'm a writer though. And if they ask, I will proudly proclaim that I write fanfics about my original characters.

6. What has been the hardest fit for you to write? "Fic", I think that's supposed to say? But uhhhh, probably DDD. Watching Dove go through that has been... really rough. Really, really REALLY rough. (To put it into perspective, I used to write for 3-7 stories every single week. But once DDD started going downhill hard, about the time Dove's first victim happened, I became absolutely OBSESSED with figuring out how she gets out of it.

7. What fic of yours makes you the most emotional? Honestly, that depends entirely on my mood. Lovey-dovey mood? Probably either all the fluff of secretshipping, or the tragedy in Spellbound pt. II. Self-doubt and PTSD? Raven's counsel at the end of DDD. Mystical or spiritual mood? The Final Journey because of Dove being guided by Azar.

8. What is a scene you wrote that you are most proud of? Holy hells bells, the climax scene in DDD! The battle! Between a really powerful empath and a totally unhindered telepath! In a mindscape! I haven't managed to make myself really proud of the ~style~, but the CREATIVITY. The "weapons" they used! The scenery! The escalation, the drama, the consummation of everything Dove had been fighting and Raven had been fighting with her over, and then the ENDING? Gods. Writing such an abstract battle scene was a HUGE challenge, because I've never seen any precedents for it. But I really, really love the way it came out.

9. Is there one character that you refuse to write? why? ...Rrrronaldo? Not that I've done much of anything with my SU ideas, but his arrogance and Totally Missing the Real Actual Meaning of things would probably just make me angry. Come to think of it, that's also the reason I refuse to put Terra in my stories. (Aside from the fact that I would go fucking insane from trying to figure out what the HELL her mindset is alone, what's her plan, what the hell did "Things Change" mean, etc. I just can't do it for her. And I don't forgive her.)

10. When you write fics, how much of canon are you willing to ignore/skip over? Veeeery, very little. I only have Three Anti-Canon Rules in my fanfics: 1.) The Brotherhood of Evil wasn't able to break an ancient and powerful curse that took Raven A FUCKING WEEK to LEARN how to break! So Malchior can't have been released by them. 2.) Sons of Trigon was a bad fanfic and doesn't exist in canon. I absolutely 10000% refuse to acknowledge anything in that story. And 3.) We don't talk about Things Change.

11. Do you prefer to be cold or hot when you write? Oh, cold, absolutely. I've written in an 85F room with two cups of ice water and three fans before, so it's not like I can't write in the heat when I'm really inspired, but I'm so sensitive to heat that I have passed out while sitting when it was just 75F outside. But cold... Cold I can THRIVE in.

12. What is your ideal writing area? My room. Somewhere quiet, peaceful, calm, separated, and where I know I won't have people trying to read over my shoulders.

13. How do you come up with your titles? I try very, very hard and hope I've come up with something that Sounds Nice AND Makes Sense. (I'm still debating the title of "Fire and Flight: The Keys to Igniting a Pacifist Heart". 'Flight' because that's what Srentha's name means, and it's his debut story, but like.... Fire only means Devastating Things to Dove, so I'm reeeeally fighting myself on that. I love the poetry in the title! But like.... couldn't the poetry be a little less devastating? But my brain refuses to spit anything else out. And also, that Day of Fire was a pretty important plotpoint, since it's the whole reason they were separated...)

14. How do you come up with chapter titles? Usually picking something that Sounds Cool and Has Relevance to the most important aspects of the chapter. I'm still really proud of calling a chapter of DDD "Sins of the Father" BEFORE Marv Wolfman used that phrase for Raven!

15. At what point in writing a fic, do you decide to quit? Who says I quit? The only way I'll quit a fic entirely is if I don't want to write it anymore. But because of the aforementioned Curiosity and Drive to Learn about what the heck is happening in these scenes in my head, that rarely ever happens. There have been exactly Three (3) fics that I quit writing. ~ 1.) The Titans/Pokemon crossover, because I realized I had no idea what to do with a Misdreavus in Titans Tower. (That one actually got published, but then deleted in a fit of Self-Consciousness because I was convinced people would find it cringey. I really wish I'd kept it because it was a cute idea, at least... and nowadays I can think of so MANY things! I never even wrote her meeting Silkie!) ~ 2.) The shameless self-insert where comic!Raven showed up in my room one day because I realized I had no plot ideas whatsoever, I really just wanted to write about meeting Raven in an actual physical sense. ~ 3.) Misery's Company, my Ruby Gloom fanfic, because frankly that was another shameless self-insert fic, and I realized I had no idea what to do once we got Misery back to Gloomsville. And then I realized I didn't have any particular motivation to even write it THAT far. I just totally lost interest. I didn't want to write about the rest of the Gloom crew. And I utterly lost touch with the magic in the show. I couldn't write in the style that meshed so WELL with that fic anymore. It's actually still up for adoption, I just have to find someone willing to actually adopt it.

16. How much of your personal life do you put into fics? Mhhhh, only as much as is relevant. Mostly writing from experience With Situations and Feelings, though I don't insert my reactions into how others would handle their experiences. DDD probably got the most so far. Although I can't lie, I've also found myself consulting some of my own experiences when writing for Raven as well. Like what empathy feels like... but it's mainly for things like Deciding Which Descriptive Words to Use.

17. What is the most supportive comment you have gotten? Ooh, that's hard! I've gotten several good reviews that really motivated me-- they were all on fanfic.net, but maybe the one that was like "The originality is too great to be lost" on DDD? Or the review I got for the Unforeseen revamp that was like "It flows like silk" and talking about how much better it was than the original!

18. What is the most negative comment you have gotten? All the accusations of Dove being a Mary Sue? Yeah. She never WAS, but I didn't know how to write a bio about her without comparing her to Raven, so nowadays I can see why they went there.

19. How do you handle negative comments? Back then, I sent a pm and asked them to clarify. Nobody ever did... 8F But nowadays I mostly just ignore it.

20. What story that you have written makes you the happiest to re-read? Either really triumphant or really soft moments. I love the gentle moments between Dove, Srentha, and Leyla. I love the plot progression in Something Special. I love the revamp of Mystery Sickness, seeing how far my writing has come. I love reading any tender scene between Srentha and Dove. Dove's memories with her mother are so formative and important and sweet and special. I love how peacefully Dove and Srentha's marriage scene came out. There are just so many that make me happy...

I also wrote a really cute scene between Steven, Lapis, and Amethyst where they made a sort of roller coaster for him because he was banned from FunLand and that's just an adorable sweet idea, but I never fully wrote it, whoops.

#rhs writing #rhs fanfics

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bi-apps · 5 years ago

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Accepted - Rabastan Lestrange

lyinginthemeadowes

submitted:Application for Rabastan Lestrange

OOC Information:

Name/Age/Timezone- Ashley, 25, PST

Activity Level- I’m sorry - I know I sucked this week, but on average my activity is about a 6 out of 10.

Ships/Anti-Ships- Angst and chemistry.

Did you read the rules? Yes, I did! :)

IC Information:

Character Name- Rabastan Amir Lestrange

Age/Birthdate- 24; June 30, 1954.

Faceclaim-

1. Gaspard Ulliel 2. Chris Wood 3. Tom Sturridge 4. Theo James

Occupation- He claims he is “self-employed,” but in actuality he is more of a socialite.

Blood Status- Pureblooded, Sacred 28.

Traits-

(+) Resourceful (+) Ambitious (+) Dynamic

(-) Resentful (-) Calculating (-) Vindictive

Patronus- Rabastan’s patronus is a hawk primarily due to his attention to detail and strive to achieve perfectionism in all of his crafts. Also very much like the hawk, he shows keen intelligence and does not like to be trapped or limited by any barriers.

Boggart- His brother’s dead and mangled body. After all, Rodolphus is the one person on this planet he truly loves and would be beside himself without despite all other grievances.

Key Points-

One constant in Rabastan’s life is his relentless desire to please those closest to him. He often wondered how different his life would have looked if he had been the firstborn child. Instead, Rabastan Amir Lestrange grew up and discovered quite bitterly that he was a few years too late to being the coveted child and rightful heir. It wasn’t as if Rabastan was ever neglected. The Lestrange Family was well off—they always took care of their own. There was, however, an emotional element missing. It was hard watching his brother receive praise after praise from his parents as children while Rabastan rotated through new nannies at alarming rates. The boy stirred up trouble at every viable opportunity, scheming for familial attention and then breaking down when the result was anything but expected. Rabastan watched from afar as his parents groomed Rodolphus with certain assurances and promises about the greatness he was destined for and what he stood to inherit. It triggered Rabastan to feel so much contempt for an individual he relied on with his utmost being and yet he continually wanted to find new ways to impress Rodolphus. He could not resist somehow being in his orbit, which made it difficult the first few years they were apart.

Being at home without his brother proved to be both mundane and meaningless. While he didn’t have anyone to bump heads with, he also didn’t have the same competition that drove him forward. Rabastan felt stagnant until finally starting Hogwarts. The young wizard approached the new experience with an open mindset. He knew the world was full of possibilities for him and he was looking forward to getting a fresh start away from the prying eyes of relatives. However after being sorted into Slytherin, Rabastan learned this new segment of his life wouldn’t be all he amped it up to be in his mind. Rodolphus was already well-known; not just amongst members of their shared house, but the entire school. Rabastan felt much smaller than he was during those initial years. He feared he might be stuck living in his brother’s shadow for the rest of his life if he couldn’t find a way to break through the barrier.

Upon graduating from Hogwarts, Rabastan immediately knew he didn’t want to work a standard job or live a mundane life. At the expense of his family, he had more than enough means to figure things out on his own—so that’s exactly what he did. At eighteen years old, Rabastan briefly explored various portions of the world including Venice, Italy and continental portions of Europe where the art of gambling was originally founded. He was no stranger to the craft, but decided to take the time to expand his knowledge base on the subject which he would later use to his advantage. The wizard knew he had a special talent when it came to arithmancy, which he twisted to his advantage. He learned to count cards when it was applicable, and even discovered sequences that proved useful when placing bets on sporting events such as quidditch.

Gambling became one of Rabastan’s prime interests—he centered his entire life around it. He typically garnered success executing his carefully laid out tactics and strange methodologies, but not always. The wizard was known for going off on the occasional binder. At twenty-one, his family briefly cut him off from his trust fund in order to do damage control. He had gone nearly seven days without sleeping—fueled by a mixture of alcohol and questionable potions, it was apparent he wasn’t in his right mind. He gambled away more than a quarter of his inheritance over that time period—it was a hefty sum of money and, though he later made it back by completing an astute collection of ambiguous and borderline illegal tasks, it wasn’t his proudest moment. The wizard then went on to turn his momentary lapse of judgment into a sleazy, yet wildly successful and ingenious part-time business. For the right price he would be willing to commit certain crimes like arson or larceny, always laced with his own creative twist.

Ensuring his identity is well-guarded, the wizard wears a dark cloak and hides his face beneath shadows and concealment charms. Though Rabastan doesn’t remember the exact moment everything spiraled out of control, this alter ego has provided him with the exact sense of individuality he has been searching for all his life. For once, he feels he has stepped out of his brother’s shadow and achieved something entirely on his own—only the painstaking irony is everything he does is still done in the shadows. When the notorious ( and completely self-dubbed ) pyromaniac Napalm isn’t slumming the streets of Knockturn Alley looking for new business, the socialite Rabastan Lestrange is usually busy keeping up appearances within the community. The Lestrange Family plays a prominent role in the financial backbone of the wizarding community by often donating large sums of money to those they support and, though he isn’t the first-born son he wishes he was, Rabastan has learned the hard way that it is best if he doesn’t dishonor the Lestrange Family name again.

Changes/Extra Info- N/A

Para Sample- I just want to apologize in advance for this. Rabastan is A LOT to deal with sometimes.

(tw: death, tw: murder, tw: abuse)

Golden embers whipped and whistled in the taunting summer breeze as Rabastan admired the blue-eyed girl running across the hillside. The girl, though no older than twelve or thirteen, was an exquisite work of art etched onto a living canvas of flesh with an apprehensive and narrowed bone structure. Nearing fourteen at the time, Rabastan reckoned it was the closest he ever felt to love, as he had a chance encounter with what life might have looked like had a different path divulged. However he would never confess to these sinful desires in early adolescence. The muggle was an abomination to his livelihood and he had been groomed of such assurances upon every available opportunity, until one day he snapped altogether, damning the reflection of an angel to wither and derail her days away in hell right beside him.

The sun beat down, scorching against the nape of his neck as he sauntered out from the canopy of oversized trees. Like an enemy on the prowl, Rabastan lurked in the shadows while watching the girl play with restless and hungry eyes. Her freckle-covered legs were lost beneath tall and wispy blades of grass, which he noted was long overdue for a trim. The wizard assumed that’s why she entertained herself there day after day, basking in the comfort the cool grass provided during these blistering hot summer days. Minutes passed until the fair angel took notice of him. She bore an innocent, yet totally despicable look in her crystal skeleton eyes, which made him eager to sink his teeth into her flesh as he glided his tongue across the surface of smooth lips. Seeded by his family’s blatant hatred, Rabastan perceived the sole way to silence his arbitrary desire would be something concrete; something both finite and fatal. The angel welcomed him with opened arms; it was the first and only time a slaughter would come to pass so easily.

As he meandered over, Rabastan’s growing-silhouette darkened the rays of sunlight that danced through her bouncing head of curls. The angel—laughing and smiling without a care in the world— continued to wave up at him, shielding a single eye from the stray sunshine that reflected in her oceanic eyes. She called his name and he cringed; he was lost in thought—maybe even perplexed—wondering if he could go through with the daunting task plaguing his doubtful mind. He knew how easy he could coax himself into action when equipped with his wand, but using magic outside of school was strictly forbidden. “Besides,” a little voice echoed off in his head, “your first kill should be done with your hands. You need to remember the first time living flesh stops pulsating in your bare hands.”

“Do you want to play a game?” Rabastan asked the younger girl who quickly dropped her doll and rose to her feet. “What game?” She nodded vigorously as her mute blue eyes widened with intensity. “Hide-and-Seek,” he breathed, exhaling raspy breath as he shoveled his hands into his pockets. The girl boiled with excitement at the thought—a cute older boy was inviting her to play a game, what could possibly go wrong? It was evident she hadn’t the faintest idea what was in store for her as they traversed across the weed-choked terrain and back toward the trees where he first emerged. “How about you count and I will hide first?” The smirk on his face was perceived as nothing more than a harmless smile and the angel quickly agreed without protest. She adjusted herself at the trunk of a large oak tree, which she used to blacken out her eyes as she recited a string of muffled numbers out loud.

“Ready or not, here I come!” She called out and Rabastan noted her voice was more celestial sounding than ever. It would be the last time he ever heard it. She turned around and quickly became disorientated when she discovered he was already towering above her. She didn’t have time to react because he didn’t hesitate. He forced her to the ground and, though she struggled, he successfully pinned her down with the full weight of his body. Rabastan was weaker then, however compared to the sheltered and fucking pitiful muggle seizing in his grip, he was a lethal weapon wired to kill by nature. She struggled beneath him, flailing various body parts in an attempt to free herself from the chains of his fatal touch. With adrenaline pumping and instincts thriving like never before, he balled his hand into a fist and fired his best weapon at her.

Blood instantly trickled from her nose and stained Rabastan’s hands before conjoining them around her neck. It was a seemingly perfect fit and he quickly became high off the idealism that this very moment—his desire leading to indispensable action—was somehow part of a greater destiny. He tightened his restraint around her, slowly sending her deeper into the fate which he controlled. Rabastan’s subconscious desire was to revert his gaze anywhere but her own, however he would not let himself forget this special day. As she heeded consciousness for the last time in her short and disgusting life, he stared down into her blinding crystal blue spheres. They were more reprimanding now than ever, however as she lost the final stages of alertness, Rabastan too lost something; his perception transpired and whatever feeling he had disintegrated. As he choked the last breath from her body, she suddenly became the dirt she was always intended to. A fallen angel who went to sleep on earth woke up in hell because on that day Rabastan Lestrange chose to make earth his own hell.

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casaabyayala · 6 years ago

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¡Sí, seguimos aquí!/Yes we’re still here!

Cuatro meses después, hemos completado ese hilo de limoncillos conectando las dos parcelas, y hemos hecho muchísimo más también. Estos cuatro meses han sido full de transiciones, de misiones cumplidas y mil más planificadas e iniciadas – de verdad demasiado para intentar describir aquí. Como siempre pasa, uno se abruma por lo tanto que hay que escribir y se paraliza, y al final no escribe nada. Mejor, digo yo, es simplemente escribir desde ahora sin preocuparse por lo que puede faltar. Mejor escribir algo que nada – ¿cierto?

La meta prioritaria ha sido producción de comida. El plan es combinar la cría de gallinas ponedoras alimentadas por compost (o, mejor dicho, por el proceso de hacer compost) con la siembra de hortalizas, usando el trabajo de las gallinas preparando y abonando el suelo más el compost para poder sembrar sin arar el suelo (excepto para arrancar plantas voluntarias especialmente porfiadas). El problema es que aún no hemos podido implementar el sistema de cría de gallinas, de hecho no hemos podido conseguir ni siquiera unas pocas gallinas para empezar, así que estamos sembrando sin su trabajo, sin su abono y sin el compost! He pasado bastante tiempo preparando suelo para sembrar, poco a poco, y al sembrar cada planta le echo un puñado del poco compost de bosta que nos queda de lo que compramos hace un par de años y cruzo los dedos.

Claro, echo mulch – una palabra que falta en castellano, material orgánico que cubre el suelo para evitar erosión y evaporación, protegerlo de temperaturas extremas (en nuestro caso calor) y viento, y eventualmente descomponer y aumentar la capa vegetal. He agregado mulch a nuestra lengua aquí en la Casa Abya Yala, además del verbo mulchar, la acción de echar mulch, como “ayer mulché el árbol de aguacate”, “siempre se mulcha una nueva siembra” y “mañana mulcharemos las batatas”. Pero el mulch no es abono y su acción de alimentar el suelo es lento, no inmediato. Nuestro suelo es pesado y arcilloso, en algunos sitios muy pedregoso, con la tendencia de compactar. Voy a estar muy feliz cuando tengamos una fuente constante de compost y gallinas para hacer el trabajo que hasta ahora hago yo.

Lo bueno es que, a pesar de las demoras y los obstáculos, hemos sembrado flores e hierbas, tomate, calabacín, ají, maní, vainita, zanahoria, remolacha, pak choi, repollo chino, yuca, broccoli, cebolla y cebollín, berenjena, y pimentón, con frijoles, auyama, maíz, jícama, quimbombó, melón, patilla (sandía), acelgas y más por venir. Justo hemos empezado a cosechar los primeritos tomates, el primer calabacín, algo de cilantro y mucha albahaca morada. Hemos estado cosechando aguacates de los árboles que vinieron con la casa. En la parcela original, nos hemos parado enfrente de arbustos de pitanga negra y roja y comido fruta una tras otra (de verdad hay poco en este mundo que da más satisfacción que comer de una planta que sembraste de semilla). Poco a poco, vamos a comer de aquí mismo.

También hemos sembrado varios árboles y otros perennes ambos aquí en la nueva parcela y en la original. Hasta ahora son 5 aguacates (Pollack, Choquette, Oro Negro, Catalina y Kampong), una chirimoya, 2 pitangas negras, un semeruco, 2 parchitas, varias piñas, 2 mangos (Irwin y Venus, más variedades por venir), un cítrico oro blanco, y una macadamia.

En la casa, seguimos tipo camping en el segundo piso ya que no hemos hecho lo necesario para hacer habitable el primero: construir una escalera dentro de la casa (no la hay!), reparar las paredes dañadas por humedad, y remodelar la cocina. Todo eso lo vamos a hacer, pero por ahora vivimos bastante bien arriba. Por primera vez en mi vida venezolana, no tengo que compartir la ducha con un pipote de agua porque hay un tanque de agua full y contamos con agua constante. Y pudimos invitar a amigos a almorzar ya que hay un espacio placentero para compartir en el balcón!

Los proyectos en camino son el de las gallinas ponedoras y compost, el de hongos comestible y el de aceite de sacha inchi. Todo tiene su ritmo, a veces mucho más lento que lo quiero. Pero luego recuerdo que hace poco estábamos en Caracas con poca posibilidad de construir una casa en nuestro terreno, y me digo sé feliz idiota!

Four months later, we’ve completed the line of limoncillos connecting the two properties, and we’ve done a whole lot more than that too. These four months have been full of transitions, tasks completed and oh so many more started and planned – really way too much to write about here. So as always, one paralyzed by all there is to write and ends up writing nothing, and of course then time passes and stuff happens and there’s even more to write, etc. So I decided to just jump in and start writing again, and not worry about what gets left out, cuz it’s better to write something than nothing, right?

The primary goal has been food production. The plan was (in addition to the food forests and many individual fruit tree guilds) to combine a chickens on compost system (see the master of this plan in action in this inspiring (and amusing) video with Karl Hammer of Vermont Compost) with no-till veggie gardens (for what I think is the last word on no-till check out Elizabeth and Paul Kaiser of Singing Frogs Farm in Sebastopol, CA – all of their videos on youtube are fantastic). The problem is we haven’t been able to implement the chickens on compost system. In fact we haven’t even been able to get our hands on even a few chickens just to get started. So in desperation I just started planting stuff, and I’ve had to dig and prepare the soil (which on top of being a lot of tedious sweaty work is also painfully un-eco, which one is reminded of with every impact of the hoe as the newly exposed worms recoil miserably from the hot sun) and plant using just a bucket and a half of composted manure we had left over from buying several sacks a couple of years ago. Of course, I mulch like crazy, which at least helps keep the soil cooler and moister when we go a few days without rain. But it’s not the same. It’s a skin of our teeth garden, and I can’t wait to have the chickens and their poop and their scratching and the compost that comes from the system.

BUT, we have managed, despite the delays and obstacles, to plant flowers and herbs, tomatoes, ají dulce, peanuts, purple green beans, carrots, golden beets, baby bok choi, chinese cabbage, yucca, non-heading broccoli, scallions and onions, eggplant and orange bell pepper, with beans, winter squash, okra, sunflower, corn, jicama, sweet potatoes, melon, watermelon, chard and much more on the come. We’ve just barely harvested a couple of tomatoes (Box Car Willie variety – their shoulders had split after a heavy rain so they were subpar, I’ll see if I like them when the next few on the vine ripen but frankly it hasn’t been super productive for me so I don’t think I’ll keep planting this one), a few summer squash (Early Prolific Straightneck – good texture and the expected mild summer squash flavor, but it hasn’t been particularly prolific thus far), peanuts (hey they need space to spread out and peg!), purple beans (Royalty Purple – so pretty I have them planted in the front patio flower garden), plus cilantro and tons of purple basil (Genovese Red Freddy – two plants have both turned into bushes!), but it will be a few months before we really start reaping what we’ve sown. We’ve been harvesting avocados and oranges from the trees that came with the house. And on the original property we’ve stood in front of Surinam cherry bushes and eaten to our hearts content – there’s seriously very little in life as satisfying as eating fruit from a tree that was once just a seed in your hand. The orange and lime trees we planted over there are setting a bunch of fruit now, too, along with the strawberry guava. Little by little, we’re going to eat what we grow.

In addition to the annual veggie garden and the living fence limoncillos, we've been busy planting several perennials (trees and etc), both on the original property and the new one. So far we've put in 5 avocados (Pollack, Choquette, Oro Negro, Kampong and Catalina), an Oro Blanco citrus, a cherimoya, two black Surinam cherries, a lime (large fruit, a gift from a nursery man), an Ortanique tangor, two mangos (Venus and Irwin, more new varieties on the way), an acerola cherry (not a huge fan of the fruit out of hand based on the one we have on the original property - most of them taste exactly like a not particularly sweet red apple, but the tree is very pretty and the fruit is so high in vitamin C it's worth eating. Plus they say you can make wine from it and the wine retains the vitamin C! Vitamin wine!), two passion fruit vines, several pineapples, and a macadamia nut tree.

In the house, we’re still more or less camping on the second floor because we haven’t taken the necessary steps to make the first floor habitable: construct an indoor staircase (there isn’t one!), repair walls with moisture damage, and remodel the kitchen. We’ll get to all of this sooner or later (I’m hoping for sooner), but for now we’re living pretty damn well upstairs. For the first time in my Venezuelan life, I don’t have to share my shower with a plastic garbage can full of water for when we don’t have water in the pipes, since we have a huge concrete tank, full. And we were able to host lunch for a few friends because the balcony is a very pleasant place to hang out in the shade of the avocado trees. Good times.:)

The projects currently on the drawing board are the chickens on compost, oyster mushroom production (already in progress, more in other posts), and the production of sacha inchi oil. Everything takes time, and sometimes my impatience gets the better of me and I get frustrated. But then I remember that it was not at all long ago that we were stuck in a two room cave in Caracas with no foreseeable chance of being able to move to our land, and I say to myself, clap your hands, stupid.

Vainitas Royalty Purple Royalty Purple beans

Repollo chino Hilton, cilantro, y br��coli Piracicada Chinese cabbage Hiolton, cilantro, and Piracicada broccoli

Arbusto de albahaca morada Genovese Red Freddy Genovese Red Freddy purple basil bush

Pimentón Orange Bell con flores Orange Bell pepper flowering

Maní Peanuts

Zanahoria Cosmic Purple, tomate Box Car Willie detrás. Cosmic Purple carrots with Box Car Willie tomato just behind.

Berenjena Aswad, ají dulce criollo, un cebollín invisible y detrás 2 tomates Black Krim . Aswad eggplant, local ají dulce, an invisible bunching onion and two Black Krim tomatoes from rooted suckers in the back there.

Tomate Black Krim repleto de fruta verde. Si su sabor se acerca su producción esta variedad es un ganador. Black Krim tomato loaded with green fruit. If its flavor is half as good as its production this variety is a keeper.

Comfrey con un tomate híbrido Amelia acostado encima. Hago trizas de una hoja de comfrey y entierro los pedacitos alrededor de plantas hambrientas cuando las siembro, para alimentar a las plantas y atraer lombrices. Tengo unas semillas de tomates híbridos que iba a usar como patr’ones para injertar variedades vulnerables a enfermedades que pasan por las raices. Pero encontré un patrón del cual se pueden guardar las semillas - más sobre eso en otro post - así que estoy sembrando los híbridos para no derrochar las semillas. Comfrey with a hybrid tomato Amelia sprawled out over it. I tear up a comfrey leaf and bury the pieces around particlularly needy plants when I set them out, to feed the plant and atract worms to the vicinity. I have some hybrid tomato seeds I was going to use as rootstock for grafting varieties vulnerable to soil borne diseases but I found a rootstock you can save seeds from so you don’t have to keep buying them - more on that in another post - so I’m planting the hybrids so as not to waste the seeds.

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nailtravels · 7 years ago

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Wow.

So that just happened. Maybe the mostmilk fun ever. With zero bugs and perfect weather, how can the same festival keep getting better? Sure, the music is great, but it’s about so much more than that. Can it ever reach some kind of ceiling? Maybe not, Grasshopper. Sure, there were Chris Robinson fans, but there were also Umphries fans who drove right past Atlanta, en route to The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park, because that’s just where they had to be. There’s no place better.

Rednecks, hillbillies and hipsters. They came from all over to attend the 2018 Wanee Festival and this year’s mammoth-sized hot air balloon of a party certainly did not fail to impress. After being invited, Corporal Turner politely replied, “That festival is a little fast”, and he was probably spot on. Even without the likes of Luke Sidewalker, the Captain and Clayopheus III, the glorious festavarians found themselves lurking all the way down into the darkest halls of the slickest funk.

All the way down to Chinatown. Welcome to Wanee ’18: It’s time to panic.

Saturday afternoon Peach Stage Wanee Festival 2018

At some point, many people feel the weight of age and responsibility and find it necessary to put down childish things. There are others however, who’ve decided to verge from that path and decorate themselves with glitter and feathers.

They are the Wontons. The Watusi of the First Order. They have no trouble playing with childish things.

When in doubt….twirl.

Even with the bogus paperwork, it’s getting harder to smuggle Lucienda into The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park. They call it progress but it’s looking more like Colorado or Oregon. In those places, hushed voices still decry her an outcast, forever exiled from their private parties. Especially Longmont and it’s unusual brand of stickiness. Usually it wouldn’t be a problem, but after the Luke Sidewalker “incident” at Spring Reunion, a modicum of adult caution can surely be afforded. Between smashed guitars and bail money, these trips are beginning to cost a pretty penny.

It was Melissa’s turn to have some fun. She never claimed to be a prophet, but she knew what kind of party awaited her at Wanee and Live Oak. It was always the most ridiculous and hilarious gathering of fruitcakes ever. Their utterly ludicrice behavior was matched only by their ability to uncontrollably love everyone around them.

She’d predicted that the festival love-meter would be set at 11. No festival can boast more good vibes. Along with a generous helping of Allman brothers originals, Wanee takes great pride in its vibe. The love-meter was definitely pushing into the red and it appeared as though the governor had been removed.

Listen for the crack of the whip. Look under the Thunder Chicken and the Mullet.

Wanee 2018 Highlights:

WSMFP: Friday and Saturday night the Peach Stage turned into a bubbling froth of rock-n-roll stupafunk, as Widespread Panic brought their pounding slather to Live Oak. Double IPAs and good scotch were replaced by Natty Lights and Evan Williams as the Spreadnecks, Spreadheads and even Spreadnexicans took over the camp grounds and danced until their eyes hurt. Listen for the fireworks because it’s only rock music and this place just turned into Fort Sumter. One thing is for certain, Widespread Panic makes girls bounce, grunt and pop. They turn into howler monkeys that bounce around making clicks and funky humming sounds.

Jimmy Herring and John Bell of Widespread Panic. Wanee ’18: photo by J.Nail

J.Nail, Scott and George

Duder and El Dudarino

George and Cassie

A.J. and Karisa

As The Crow Flies

Boone Hillbillies: Jessica said she would never camp next door to hillbillies again after the “trouble” with the Roanoke mafioso a only a few years ago. It had been either Clayopheus III or Darth Waffle who initially planted the dark seed of sin but harsh memories still lingered. Once you’ve picked up with serious mountain people, there’s no telling when things may turn south, but dear Prudence, you can bet your bottom shilling that it’s going to happen. Run off from her own spot at the Poncho Tree by Sabrina and Steve at the Camp Happiness field site, she was poking around the Farm Field, haggard and worn, run off like a red-headed stepchild and looking for a new place to set up camp. Her rainbow would finally curl to the ground at the Farm Field, right in the middle of a group of derelict Boone, North Carolina hillbillies.

Huckleberry wore tie-dyed green overalls as he took a snort from the jug. When it was warm, he donned the shorts overalls and likely had several more in reserve. He and his woman Dewdrop, who was also known to pull a cork, had some kind of matching flower tattoos that made a picture when they pushed their necks together. They were definitely from North Carolina. You could smell the moonshine and see the gummies stuck in their tooth when they spoke up close. Their posse brought cute girls with them from App. State, but the only skin anyone would see would be A.J.’s butt cheeks as he used the area next to our camp for his water closet. He relieved himself just outside of his tent in what would be called a side yard, or at the very least, a commons, and we subsequently used the area for the same end. The only casualty was poor Smitty, whose tent was pitched in the depressed ravine between the two camps.

He woke up screaming profanities as warm urine trickled through his thinning hair. The altercation that ensued left one hillbilly with a barbecue skewer sticking out of his quadricep and another peeling melted plastic from his skin after his camping chair was knocked into the fire. The moonshine ignited into billowing black smoke that got the attention of a lady policeman who broke up the fight. She had worked security with Hambone at Telluride and stayed around for some boiled peanuts and PBRs. Before it was over she’d traded her handcuffs and a confiscated five strip to Lefty for an angry hand job. Things were f’sho getting ridiculous and that was before the homeless girl showed up.

Baitbucket had always been attracted to homeless girls, ever since Denver and the one who lived in tunnels. This girl didn’t live in tunnels and she wasn’t even homeless, but she did work in a homeless shelter and that was good enough for union work. Sometimes you can just tell that a girl used to have dreadlocks.

Jessica used to think she was making friends at festivals, but these people were never going to amount to friends. They don’t call it the “Wanee Family” for nothing.

So this just happened. Wanee 2018: photo by George Rodgers

The Gay Dolphin: Much Wanee love goes out to the proprietors of the best bar in the Hidden Woods. Serving oysters and gumbo during the day, ginaritas in the afternoon and gin and tonics in the early, early morning. It’s quite a hike toward the river but this out of the way nook has a 2-6 am happy hour can’t be beat. Find Beth the bartender for late night cordials.

Their late-night fire circle music was one of the tastiest scenes around. Thanks to Ed on vocals, Mike on slashing lead guitar and CJ on drum bucket. We’re proud to announce that the talented Maren is the newest nailtravels intern. Look for her stellar photography in upcoming articles. Check out Mike’s shop at Dixie Workshop Inc. for all your custom kitchen needs. Whether it’s computerized design, woodworking, molding or furniture, let them be your first stop for high end custom cabinetry. It’s pretty fancy stuff, but you’re worth it.

Thug Life: Jessica had been doing so well. Although a complete chemical toilet, she’d managed to hold it together from Wednesday until Saturday. Things began going south as she teamed up with Charlotte County crackers long enough to take several snorts from their jug of crotch whiskey. Just before the Carl Benson set, she began complaining of hot flashes and broke into a foamy sweat. Melissa tried to drag her away from the coach and out into the dirt road so she wouldn’t get her sick anywhere important, but after all attempts failed, Jessica dropped her head into her lap and vomited out her crotch whiskey and purple ringers.

Thanks to the common Gainesville street criminals for contributing the breakfast espressos and caramels. Saturday dn Sunday breakfast also contributed greatly to the overall continued success of the entire group. Y’all are definitely what’s referred to as “upper stock”.

Thanks to nailtravels contributing photographer, George Rodgers for lending his eye to the project. It was a pleasure to finally see our credentials being used to take quality concert photographs. You are the wind beneath my wings.

Remember, if he’s carrying a new bag and wearing clean New Balance shoes, then he’s a cop dressed as a hippy. We’re not trying to be rude, but you gosta go.

E A Sy Thug Life: Wanee 18: photo by George Rodgers

In between flasks of crotch whiskey and Pigeons Playing Ping Pong, there must be time for an gyro. Nutrients are a real thing and if you don’t take care of yourself, you’re going to be useless to the rest of us. Think about it.

Wanee Restroom Guidelines:

Put your bracelet on the opposite hand from which you wipe.

Bring baby wipes for ultimate freshness and hippy baths.

The adult diaper section of the store also has extra large wipes.

Your best chance for warm water is either four in the morning or four in the afternoon.

The showers toward the river and in the loop are lovely and offer more hot water.

Take a hippy bath in the Suwannee River.

Vaping is Science.

Darkstar Orchestra on the Peach Stage. Wanee ’18: photo by J.Nail

“Mushroom Madness”

Marcus King. Wanee 18: photo by J.Nail

Tips to Making Friends with Your Neighbors:

Introduce Yourself: Before you try to sell anyone a poster, visit and have a little fellowship.

Contribute: Chicken thighs, burnt pig bone, guitar music or firewood. It takes a village to raise a party. Everyone had something to offer. Maybe your job is just to lend a little harmony. Thanks for showing up.

Be Courteous: Everyone understands that the rules that apply to family camping are different when piling together into the forest. That being said, there is a limit to how much late-night Club Boca anyone wants. Go ahead and let your freak flag fly, but know that if you get too amplified in the wee hours of the night, you may get a visit from a Florida Moose. This doesn’t end well for you, my precious.

Share: The last thing you want is to leave a pile of warm chicken for the Chihuahuas. It’s worse than finding beer and food coupons in your pocket once you get home. Break everything out and use it with the people around you. Likely, they will do the same thing and you’ll put together a stone soup. And why can’t a Bloody Mary have a cheese puff? Maybe you need to check it out.

Phil Lesh on the Peach Stage. @Wanee ’18: photo by J.Nail

Phil Lesh and the Terrapin Family Band: The Grateful Dead bassist continues to stomp the living hell out of jam band rock tunes. Dropping bombs hither and yon, his Terrapin Family Band came through with a severe layer of pump and bump and a tasty West LA Fade Away and the Rippin’ Ripple, which was a severely sassy way to end the show. Find ol’ boy Steve and Mr. Larose next time you’re listening to Phil drop bombs everywhere and looking for someone with which to frolick.

Gary and Shannon

Dumpsta Sugar Phunk Magic

Smitty, Ted and Moose

Nice lids yo.

Dimples Dyes. Wanee ’18: photo by J.Nail

As The Crow Flies

Melissa and Jessica

Wanee ’18: photo by George Rodgers

Darkstar Orchestra at Wanee 18: photo by J.Nail

Thomas and Moose in their pajamas,

Chris Robinson Brotherhood

Friends and Family: Thanks to all the folks who spent the festival working while the rest of us trickled lazily through the meadows and forests trails. The first stop we always make is to Jade at her traveling wearable art boutique. A Bazaar Universe is the perfect stop for some soft wrist warmers and droopy hats. Check out her Facebook page and take a look at her wares. She is so awesome. When you’re done there, also visit Dimple’s Dyes and check out her beautiful creations on her website and Facebook. Remember, cowboys are fascinated by hippy girls.

Be sure to visit the The Allman Brothers Band Museum at the Big House. It’s where the Allman Brothers Band, their roadies, friends and families lived from 1970 to 1973. Visit their website or ramble down highway 41 and walk the hallowed grounds of the band that shaped the music industry and are credited with being the forefathers of “Southern Rock”.

Chris Robinson Brotherhood. Wanee 2018: photo by J.Nail

Chris Robinson Brotherhood/As the Crow Flies: Blessed be to Scott for dragging everyone away from the fire and reminding us that Chris Robinson was playing on the Peach Stage. Sometimes the fire breathes you. Welcome to the world of the prolapsed sand dollar. The Chris Robinson Brotherhood on Friday and As The Crow Flies on Saturday was a combined treat for the masses. The hippy funk of Friday’s show was a super pleasure, especially with keyboardist Adam MacDougall with his touches on everything from Dylan and Parliament Funkadelic to psych rock and Chicago rhythm & blues. Soooo Good.

Typical Wanee Directions:

I’ll be the first one here. Look for me.

We’re in the back of the loop.

We’re by the lake, next to David.

We’re in the bat field.

Look for the tapestries.

Look for the blinking lights.

We’re right behind the Grateful Dead flag.

Look under the Thunder Chicken.

Look for me lying unconscious next to my van.

Look for me sleeping under a tarp.

Look for me peeing in a hammock

I’ll be the last one here. Look for me.

As we move ever close to the environmental consciousness of festivals like Telluride and Rockygrass, we’re starting to see more advocacy groups devoting their time to Wanee. WWALS is a nonprofit educational corporation advocating for watershed conservation and stewardship of the Withlacoochee, Willacoochee, Alapaha, Little and Suwannee Rivers. Mad props to WWALS Watershed Coalition, Inc. for their work with the Alapaha River Water Trail and the First Annual Suwannee Riverkeeper Songwriting Contest. These are perfect reasons to get involved. Visit their website for upcoming outings and events or email them at [email protected] and [email protected].

Darkstar Orchestra. Wanee 18

“Help or get some.”

Cameron was plum tuckered out when he dropped into his love-wagon and headed toward Gainesville. His wrists were draped with bracelets and the dusty windshield was cracked and covered with parking stickers from this and other festivals. A hot shower was in his future where he would give a serious scrubbing to his feet and nails. It would take more than a few days to get those Wanee feet clean. He had, after all, slept under his car for no apparent reason.

Good job Wanee for picking up all your festavarian gear once again. The Culture of Wanee lives! Except for a delicous gross of Mardi Gras beads, there were few ground scores to be had, as usual. Park employees such as Matt (i.e. Toe-mas, Glimmer Man) were quick to applaud the efforts of the attendees again this year. It’s so nice to play with professionals.

Thanks to Wanee Festival for inviting nailtravels to be part of the action. It’s still the best party around. Thanks to The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park for providing a sense of place that transcends everything else. With Suwannee River Jam and Purple Hatters Ball on the horizon, it doesn’t have to be so long between trips.

Remove your love governor.

Wanee Festival ’18: It’s Time To Panic Wow. So that just happened. Maybe the mostmilk fun ever. With zero bugs and perfect weather, how can the same festival keep getting better?

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