#I have one final commission slot that I’ve been trying to get to for ages and the universe said Nope

[foldingfittedsheets]

Today has been a goddamn shit show and the only good thing I can say about it is that it’s almost over.

[dirtywresling102]

Overtime - Razor Ramon (18+)

Razor Ramon x Marco

Commission: @magicbaaaaaby

Summary: Nearly clocking out, a customer calls for room service and Marco delivers, getting a very big tip.

Warnings: 18+, Male x Male, Oral, Smut, Cussing, Body Worshiping. 

Word Count:  4,004 

Follow my main blog!: @dirtywrestling

Like my writing? Leave a tip!

Enjoy!

9:59 PM

Only one more minute and I got to clock out from a long shift. I thought it was a good idea to work more hours to earn more money. The holidays were over now, nobody wanted to work extra hours since they weren’t rushing to save to buy gifts for their loved ones. My tired eyes stared at the clock, this felt like the longest sixty seconds ever. 

I caught myself yawning, covering my mouth and closing my eyes. I was miles from home but I could hear my bed calling me. With my clock out card in hand I sighed out in relief as it turned 10:00 PM. Twelve long hours and I was free to go. About to slip my card in the machine to stamp me out, my manager called me. “Marco.” 

I gritted my teeth, I swear I was doing everything for him today. “Yes, Justin?” I asked in a bored tone. I didn’t even bother facing him, my eyes were still glued on the little clock in the machine. I just wanted to go home, take a shower, watch some television and fall asleep. 

“Hey, before you go, that wrestler ordered room service.” He said. 

Groaning, I gripped the clock out card in my hand, crumpling it. “Can’t you do that? I’ve been here since 10 this morning.” I nearly hissed, trying to watch my tone. Justin wasn’t even my boss, he was my boss's son. 

“Yeah, well I have other things that need to be done. You know, management things.” What he meant by that was looking at half naked women in his playboy magazine while he relaxed in the office chair.

Shutting my tired eyes, I exhaled a breath. Knowing I needed the money, it wouldn’t be so hard. Ten minutes tops and I’m out. I had to double think about my bills and remind myself that they were worth it. Putting my crumpled time card back in the slot I huffed. “Fine, I’m getting paid for it though.” Finally I faced the man. “What does he want?” I asked. 

“He wants bath towels, pillows and a pizza.” Justin read the sticky note that was next to the phone. 

“What room?” I grumbled. 

“314, he’s waiting.” 

“Did you even order the pizza?” I looked at him, hoping he did.

“Hmm, no I forgot.” Justin said, sitting down, flipping to the next page of the magazine only to wolf whislte. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the phone. “He wanted cheese.” Justin added. Glaring at Justin for not getting the pizza order in, I dialed the nearest pizza joint. 

Hanging up the phone, I huffed. “Thanks to you, the pizza is getting here late.” 

“Uh-huh.” Justin said, paying no mind to what I was saying as he flipped through the magazine, his eyes glued to the naked women. “Why don’t you relax and wait for the pizza?” Justin asked, opening the small fridge next to him and grabbing a beer. “The old man is out of town and you get to hang out with the cool boss.” Justin cracked open the can and took a sip. “Look at some women with me.” Justin flipped the magazine towards me. I glimpsed at the women on the pages, her legs spread showing their bushes and exposed breasts.

My face turned a slight pink, never seeing a woman pose like that before. I had to quickly look away. “Not my thing.” I mumbled, staring out at the door wishing this pizza delivery boy would come quicker. 

“‘Not your thing?’” Justin repeated. I swallowed thickly, hoping I didn’t blow my cover. “Oh! You must be into those VHS pornos.” Justin wiggled his eyebrows. I exhaled a breath he didn’t notice.

“Uh yeah, something like that.” I mumbled, just glad that he didn’t put two and two together. Being gay in this time and age was frowned upon. One of my friends lost his job for being homosexual, he didn’t get flat out fired because the company knew that he’d sued. So, other coworkers bullied him until he quit. He had to move out of town and start a new life so he could live his life and not get bullied constantly. 

The bell above the door rang as the delivery boy in his late teens entered with the box in his hands. “I have a pizza for Plaza Hotel?” 

“Yeah, you’re at the right place, kid.” I fished for the hotel bank bag full of cash. Opening it I furrowed my brows to see it was empty. “Uh, Justin, where's the cash at?” I asked.

“I had to pay my car payment today, don’t worry I put an IOU in there, see?” 

Just as he said it I pulled out a piece of paper with a large ‘IOU’ on it. I huffed, looking at the kid who was looking at me. “Are you going to pay mister? I have other deliveries.” The kid pointed out.

“Yes, I’m going to pay. How much is it?” I asked, tossing the hotel money bag on the desk and fished out my own wallet.

“Four ninety-nine.” The kid placed the pizza on the counter. 

“Jesus, Four ninety-nine?” I asked as I opened my wallet. “What happened to three ninety-nine?” I grabbed a five dollar bill and placed it on top of the pizza.

“We have new owners now, they went up on some of the items.” The boy grabbed the money but still had his hand out.

“What? What?” I was a bit irritated as I grabbed the box of pizza to deliver it to the waiting guest in his room. 

“My tip?” He arched an eyebrow as if I was stupid. 

This boy obviously saw me have to pay for this pizza myself and wanted more. “Uh.” I looked around the lobby, behind the desk and finally over at Justin. Justin was grabbing yet another cold beer from the fridge and about to open it. I snagged it from his grip and tossed it to the boy. “Enjoy.” I gave him a fake smile.

“Oh sweet, thanks mister!” The delivery kid seemed happier with the beer than any money I’d give him. Possibly because he was a minor and it wasn’t easy scoring alcohol. 

It’s nearly been an hour since the man ordered room service. I quickly made my way to the laundry room, grabbing three fresh towels and two pillows. I stacked them on top of the pizza. Passing by the lobby, Justin was still in his seat. “Room 420.” He reminded me. 

I stopped in my tracks. “You said 314.” I corrected him.

“Wha- Oh, oh yeah. Room 314.” Justin didn’t even tear his gaze from the nudey magazine. 

Rolling my eyes I quickly went to the elevator and pressed the third floor button. “Fucking idiot, we don’t even have a fourth floor.” I shook my head. I couldn’t believe that my boss left him in charge while he went away on vacation. 

The elevator dinged as the doors opened. Stepping out and into the hallway, I took a right. Passing the doors I grumbled the numbers to myself. “312, 313 and 314.” Standing in front of the door, I arranged the items onto one hand and knocked with my free hand. 

“About time.” I heard behind the door. Hearing the locks unclick, the door swung on the hinges making a slight creak. My eyes went to the edge of the door, making a mental note to put oil on the hinges before someone complains about the annoying sound. “You know, I ordered this an hour ago, right?” 

My eyes tore away from the hinges and onto the person. “Yes, my apology-” I was quickly cut off by this man’s looks. “Holy shit, you’re Razor Ramon.” I choked out. I knew Justin said the customer that ordered room service was a wrestler but I didn’t think it was thee Bad Guy, Razor Ramon, Scott Hall.

“Yeah, I get that alot.” Ramon chuckled, opening the door wider. “Come on in.” My legs, being like jello, slowly walked into the room. I shut the door behind me. Looking over Ramon’s boy, he’s in shorts and nothing else. His chest and stomach is slightly hairy like a dark rainforest, his long raven hair is sweaty and curly, resting over his broad shoulders. 

“Well, Mr. Ramon. I uh, have the towels, pillows and your pizza for you.” I placed everything on top of the dresser by the box television. 

“No clean sheets?” He asked, his bushy eyebrow arched.

“Clean sheet?” I repeated.

 “I told that little asshole to put clean sheets on the list.” He huffed.

“I can uh, quickly get you clean sheets.” I pipped in, I didn’t want to make Ramon’s stay terrible. He was paying a fortune for this room after all. 

“Nah, I’ll sleep in the sweet juices.” He chuckled, noticing my confused face he added on. “Fucking all of those bitches made a mess.”

My face heated up. “O- Oh!” I swallowed, my eyes darting down to his cock, its outline bulging through his shorts. So he’s the reason for all of the noise complaints. 

“You know what I’m saying, right?” He laughed, walking over towards the items I brought, he tossed the pillows onto the bed. “I used all of my towels to clean up their gushing messes.”

“I uh, I actually don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Ramon.” I spoke honestly. 

He stopped what he was doing. “Please, call me Ramon. No need to be formal. What’s your name?” He smiled down at me. “Are you saying you’ve never made a lady squirt?” He read my facial expression. 

Biting my lower lip, I couldn’t help but to trail over his muscular body. He must have just got done fucking since he was so sweaty, the room was cool enough to not make anyone sweat. In my opinion it was a little too cold. I noticed Roman’s nipples were slightly hard as I finally looked up into his hazel eyes as he waited for me to reply. “My name is Marco and no, I’ve never done that to a lady before.” 

“Because you don’t have a strong dick game, Marco?” Ramon questioned, still not understanding.

I blushed as he used the word ‘dick’. No, I wouldn’t believe that was it, I thought I had a largely impressive cock for a man my age. “N- No, no. It’s not that. I’m saying I’ve never had a woman before.” 

“You’re a virgin?”

“Well, yes. But I’m saying women don’t intrigue me.” It was quiet for a minute. I swallowed thickly, wishing I could quickly eat the words that spilled out of my mouth. I just ruined the chance to hang out with the baddest, coolest wrestler in the WWF. I was about to exit until he said something.

“Do I intrigue you?” Ramon’s voice became huskier and deeper. He took a step towards me, his pupils darker. I wanted to take a step away but my legs wouldn’t allow it. I let him tower over me, staring at me. “Come on kid, you haven’t stopped staring at my cock since you stepped in.” Ramon pointed out. 

Another tinted blush hit my cheeks. My mouth became cotton-like. “Yes, yes you do.” I exhaled softly. My body was slightly shaking. 

Ramon licked his plump lip. “I bet you listen so well, don’t you little one?” He purred, placing his hand underneath my chin and made me look into his chocolate eyes. “Say ‘yes daddy’ when I’m talking to you.” 

“Y- Yes daddy.” I panted, I wasn’t expecting this when delivering room service. I was surprise that he was still hard after fucking all those women he was talking about. 

“Good boy.” He purred.

My heart was pounding against my chest faster than ever, it felt like I just got done running a mile. My first time with a man was going to be Razor Fucking Ramon. I had no idea he swung both ways. His gimmick was being a lady’s man. 

Ramon wrapped one arm around my waist, pulling me close to his hairy and slightly sweaty skin. Ramon had a few inches on me in height. He ran his free hand through my hair, making me shiver. Leaning down, Ramon placed his soft lips against mine. We both moaned softly at the feeling of each other's lips. The kissing starts off slow, our lips molding into each other’s. Ramon’s tongue darts out and licks the bottom of my lip, asking for entrance.

I’m nervous, I’ve made out before but knowing I was under complete control by Razor Ramon had me shaking. Ramon grew impatient, the arm wrapped around my waist, his hand gripped my ass which made me gasp. Feeling Ramon smirking, his thick tongue slipped in between my gasping mouth and started to explore. His tongue swirls against mine, our tongues dance with each other, pushing and brushing up. He tasted like whiskey but it wasn’t anything too strong where I could get drunk off of.

Ramon slowly pulled away from the kiss, strings of saliva connected to our lips until it snapped away. I was slightly light headed, nearly forgetting how to breathe. “How was that?” Ramon chuckled, licking his lips.

My lips tingle with excitement. I wanted more, I needed more. How the fuck do I get more? “A- Amazing, I liked it, daddy.” 

“Good, keep being a good boy and there's more where that came from.” Ramon winked. “Now, take my shorts off, I think you’ll like what’s underneath.” He teased me.

My skin broke out in goosebumps, I was about to see another man's cock up close and personal. My fingers dipped into his waistband, slowly tugging it down his thick legs. “Don’t be shy.” He noticed how I stopped just at the peak of where his cock was about to spring out. Fully dropping his shorts down my eyes widened at his member. He wasn’t wearing any boxers so it sprang upwards in a fast manner.

My mouth watered with need. “Can I suck it?” I asked eagerly. 

Ramon was slightly surprised by me asking such a bold question, he shook his head no. “No, I think you’ll have to work your way up to that.” Ramon rolled his tongue over his lips. “But I do have an idea before you please my cock.” 

“Anything.” I breathed out.

“Worship my body.” Ramon took a few steps back and sat himself down on the cushiony love sofa, his legs spread where his large cock stood up, waiting for attention. My eyes kept staring at his large masterpiece of a body. “Marco.”

“Yes?” I snapped my attention to his face which had a big smirk on it.

“My cock can wait. Come.” He bent his two fingers in the ‘come here’ motion. Slowly making my way towards him, he leaned forward and pulled me on top of him. I straddled his lap with both legs over him. “Good boy.” He hummed. My eyes looked to his lips, leaning down I pushed mine against his. “I think my neck needs some attention.” He spoke softly in between the kisses.

Shuttering a breath as I felt his large hands on my waist, I leaned down and left open mouth kisses on his neck, collar bone and coming back up to his jaw line. He hummed lowly, eyes closed. His skin tasted slightly salty along with his natural scent. “Now the shoulders.” He exhaled.

Moving my head to his right side I placed kisses against his strong shoulders. Swirling my tongue around the soft skin. Once I was done on the right side, I pulled away and made my way onto the left, doing the same thing. “Lower.” He grunted. 

Taking myself lower, I latched my mouth onto his left nipple. I swirled my tongue around it, lightly biting. My body grew hot with anticipation knowing I soon will be swirling my tongue around his juicy cock. When I thought his left nipple had enough worshiping I switched to the right. As I suckled on the right nipple, my left hand cupped and caressed his large left bicep while my fingers kept  pinching and tweaking it. 

I felt his cock twitch aggressively between my thighs. My own cock was begging to be released from these tight uniform jeans. Pulling away, I looked down to see his cock oozing with pre-come, some of it even wiping onto my uniform, staining it. My hands were on his sweaty chest, leaning down I licked my tongue up his hairy chest. I moaned at the taste of his body sweat seeping into my tastebuds. 

“Someone is such a dirty boy.” Ramon laughed lowly in amusement. “Sluttier than the whore I fucked.”

Ignoring that comment, I made my way even more south. Getting off of his lap I wedged myself in between his thick thighs, my face leaning forward as I kissed softly around his navel area. My hands rubbing up and down his legs, I felt Ramon break out in goosebumps from my touches. 

His cock was so up and personal to my face, as I pulled away from his toned stomach I opened my mouth about to take the tip. Mere inches away from having his tasty dick in my mouth I heard him tsking from above. Closing my mouth, I pouted. Turning my head I started to pay attention to his muscular thighs. Kissing and rubbing the left, I turned my head and started to do the same to the right. “Almost there baby, just keep going.” Ramon moaned, his head tilting back against the sofa. 

Ramon scooted himself a little more over the edge of the couch. Noticing his legs spread a bit wider, I didn’t wait for permission. I gripped his thighs and placed my face in between his legs. “Fuck.” He moaned, arching his back as I kissed his ass, flicking my tongue against his entrance made the man above me shiver in delight. “Marco, yes.” He hissed as I darted my tongue in and out. He tasted even more devine. 

“S- Stop, stop or you’re going to make me come.” He grunted, pushing me away slightly with force. I didn’t want to stop, I wanted to make him come over the edge and spill his seeds all over me. “I think you deserve a reward for being so good to me.” 

My heart started to beat faster, my eyes landed on his throbbing cock and back up to him. “May I please have your cock now?” I begged.

He smirked, leaning down and brought his lips to my ear. “Eat up, Marco.” Pulling away, he slouched back into the sofa lazily and relaxed, waiting for the pleasure. 

“Finally.” I whispered to myself. I didn’t know where to start, should I start sucking his cock? Should I lube his ass and finger it while I suck him off? All of these thoughts were making me hotter. Exhaling a breath to calm my nerves I grabbed at his waist. Leaning down I started to pepper kisses all over his heavy balls. 

“Oh.” Ramon tilted his head back, enjoying the soft touches. Slowly I extend my wet tongue against his balls, giving it little kitten licks. Ramon’s hand landed on top of my head, his fingers running through my hair. “Are you teasing me?” Ramon arched an eyebrow.

“Oh never.” I couldn’t even tell if I was being sarcastic or honest. Paying a little more attention to his sac, I pulled away. Finally I get to suck him off. Gathering spit in my mouth, I spit on his cock watching my saliva drip down his veiny dick.

“Fuck, that’s such a hot sight to see.” Ramon groaned, his pre-come mixed with my saliva. I wasted no time, wrapping my lips around his cock I started to bob my head, moaning. My left hand fondled and massaged his balls while my right hand jerked off the rest of his cock that I couldn’t get. “Yes, yes, yes.” Ramon hissed, buckling his hips. His cock drove deeper down my throat. “Fucking take daddy’s dick. Hmm, good boy.” He praised me as I dropped my right hand away and forced him deeper in my hot mouth.

“Oh you really are trying to make daddy come.” Ramon noticed how badly I bobbed my head up and down on his shaft, trying to milk the come out of him. I desperately needed to taste more of him. “You want daddy’s come? Well, I’ll give you daddy’s come.” Ramon said, gritting his teeth.

His grip on my hair grew tighter and his thrust became harder. My jaw ached as I had my mouth open so wide. I nearly begged for a break. Tears collected in the corner of my eyes as his thick dick rammed in the back of my mouth, I loved the slight sting and how raw my throat is going to be afterwards. “Keep fucking going, Marco. Oh yes, almost there, almost.”

Ramon’s hot moans and groans made my cock nearly burst out of my pants. I ignored my needs and focused them onto Ramon’s. Swirling my tongue, I suckled his cock with each thrust he did. Ramon dug his heels into the carpeted floor, his thrusts were rapid as he started to fuck my face. No warning, I felt his cock twitch in my mouth and his warm come soon hitting my tongue. I moaned, shocked from the surprise orgasm. I tried to pull away but Ramon’s grip in my hair was too tight for me to break.

“Swallow it, whore.” He growled, his eyes still dark as he was coming down from his high. He bucked his hips slowly, making his cock go in and out of my fucked mouth. Trying my best I swallowed his come, slurping it around his cock and down my throat. Exhaling from my nose, he held me in that position for a few seconds longer, making sure I swallowed all of his seeds. 

Finally letting me go, I pulled off of his cock slowly. Saliva and extra come collected around my mouth. “Oh fuck, you look so hot.” Ramon growled. I was flushed, I heaved for fresh air to hit my lungs. Ramon looked at the time, it was late. “I have a flight to catch tomorrow morning.” Ramon stood up, grabbing his wallet and pulling out a few hundred bills. He helped me up and shoved the money in the back pocket of my pants, slapping my ass. “I’ll be back in a month and I’m going to make you come so fucking hard. Have you ride that tight ass on my cock.” Ramon licked his lips. 

Nodding, I raised my hand to wipe the juices off with the back of my hand. Ramon gripped my wrist, pulling it down. Leaning down, he placed his hot mouth against mine. Slowly licking my lips and cleaning me up. He hummed at the taste of himself on my lips. My cock ached at the sounds. “One month, your sweet virgin ass will be mine.” Ramon whispered in my ear. 

With that I left, leaving Ramon with his fresh towels, pillows, a cold pizza and the best oral we both ever had. Exiting out of the elevator onto the main floor my boss’s kid lifted his head up from the porno magazine he was still reading. “You’re still here- what the fuck is all over your unifrom and what’s that smell?” He questioned in slight disgust. He’s never seen those large stains before I left. Justin’s nose was scrunched up from the stench.

Looking down at myself, I saw stains from Ramon’s sweat and come soaking into my clothes. I looked like a fucked worn out whore and smelt like one. “Long story.” I smiled large. “Let’s just say I got some overtime in.” I smirked, walking to the back to clock myself out for the night.

[catalystcrisis]

Opening 2 Commission slots!

I’ve been working on a personal comm project (a fully illustrated proposal book) for a close friend during this summer, and it’s winding down! I finally have some time in the future for regular commissions, so I figured I’d start off with 2 slots. Please read below the cut for details :)

Note that I still have magazine raffles on my tumblr and twitter if you’d like to try your luck at one of those instead!

Rules

-Only 1 character portraits at this time  -Shoulders-up only -Added complexities such as intricate armor, hair styles, helmets, hands, etc. are subject to negotiation. -Simple backgrounds (examples above) are included -All payments are via PayPal and in USD -To secure a slot, please pay half of your full commission price up front. The rest will be expected after the sketch stage.

Will do

-Original Characters, canon characters -Most experienced with Dragon Age and Dead by Daylight fandoms, but open to others! -Open to interesting aspects, Ie. dark art (skeleton/bone, exposed muscle, necromancy magic, etc), anthro, plants, magic, etc. -Will try furry and mech, but I am inexperienced with these style at this time, and may add complexity (therefore fees may apply)

Won’t do

-For this round, I will not be offering NSFW options -Prejudiced symbols (eg. Nazi, anti-LGBTQIA+, racist, antisemitic, etc.)

What to Expect

Securing a slot: -If you do choose to commission me, please reach out via Tumblr/Twitter/Gmail (catalystcrisis@gmail.com). -You will secure a slot when you pay half of your full commission price up front.

Stages: -Once I receive the initial payment, I will start the commission.  -Please have references available! I work best with screenshots/face claims/art of your character in neutral lighting. Ideas for the pose/expression/lighting/symbols/clothes/hairstyles/jewelry/etc are all welcome! -I prefer to communicate as much as possible. It would be lovely to chat with you to get a better feel for your character so that we’re on the same page. -After discussion, I will send you a sketch. You may ask for a revision at this time if the sketch doesn’t match what you had in mind.  -Additional revisions are subject to fees -The rest of the commission fee is expected at this time. Continued work will progress once full payment is received.  -If you would like, I can send you progress shots as I work. I can also keep it a secret until I’m finished.

Expected turnaround -Commissions should take a week or so at most.  -I will communicate any unexpected delays asap, since life happens to all of us.

Ownership -I will send you the full resolution PNG via the method of your choice -my signature will be included discreetly, and will not have a watermark in your piece -I retain the right to post the commission for portfolio purposes  -Please let me know if you would not like to be tagged if I do post your commission on my blogs, since crediting characters and designs to their rightful creators are my default -If you do post your commissioned piece, a shoutout is welcome but not mandatory!

Please let me know if you have any other questions! I’m happy to answer any that you may have :)

[angelofthequeers]

Bullseye

Rating: T

Summary: Nino's invited his friends for a nice night of darts with him and his father. Nothing could possibly go wrong...right?

Slot: 1-2.5k fic

Written for an anonymous donator for the @mlbforblm drive as a pool request!  The donations go directly to Color of Change, an organisation for racial justice, and don’t pass through our hands at all. I’ve still got slots open, so come and commission me or another of the amazing contributors!

AO3 link

“I can’t believe you guys agreed to this,” Nino says as he follows his father Mehdi into the small building, Alya’s fingers linked with his. Marinette and Adrien trail behind, murmuring to each other about something to do with roofs and picnics, but Nino doesn’t pay them much mind because short of being secret superheroes, there’s not much they can do about a rooftop picnic. Hmm. Maybe he should ask Ladybug for their Miraculouses and take Alya on a rooftop picnic one night. Alya’s always loved leaping and sprinting through the city, with the wind streaming through her bushy brown ponytail, and his stomach flutters at the memory of Rena Rouge’s impish grin during their flirtatious banter, while Chat Noir turns his charms on Ladybug, and she facepalms –

“Like we were gonna leave you to deal with this by yourself,” Alya’s saying when Nino finally manages to drag himself back down to earth. “You’ve helped me babysit the little demons so many times. What’s one night of darts?”

“Trust me, dude, after this, you’ll be begging for a whole week with E-squared,” Nino says. Alya rolls her eyes at his nickname for her sisters, but her mouth twitches so he figures he’s not in too much trouble. “He reckons he’s the next Phil Taylor.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Adrien pipes up.

“Do you wanna know how many times he doesn’t hit the dart board? And then says that he’s just waiting for his lucky break?”

“…Oh.”

The pub is small and brightly lit without being overwhelming, giving it a nice, cosy air that always leaves Nino in a good mood even with his father acting like he’s two seconds away from representing France in the Olympics. The bartender waves at them as they head for the little party of fellow darts club members near the darts board, weaving between tables – or, in Marinette’s case, being piggybacked by Adrien as though they’re in a minefield, so that she doesn’t trip and cause a minor earthquake with her clumsiness. Though Marinette’s scowling rather grumpily, Nino’s certain that she’s not actually mad at being carried; not when it’s Adrien who’s carrying her, without treating her like a fragile porcelain doll.

“Nino!” Beefy Henri grins and holds out a fist for Nino to bump. “Brought some fresh meat, eh?”

“Yeah.” Nino laughs and scratches the back of his head with his free hand. “This is my girl, Alya. And the two behind us are Adrien and Marinette.”

“We wanted to see the next Phil Taylor for ourselves,” Alya says, nudging Nino. Henri eyes Mehdi, who’s chatting up a storm with the other club members, and snorts.

“You’ll be waiting a while then, girlie,” he says. Alya smirks.

“Good thing I plan on sticking around for a while, then.”

Oh. Nino’s stomach flutters at the implication of Alya’s words. God, how he loves this girl.

“Darts!” Mehdi holds up a dart and turns to face the teens. “How about we give the guests of honour first go?”

“Um, I think I’ll just watch,” Marinette says with a nervous laugh. Mehdi shakes his head.

“Nonsense!”

“But I’m –”

“Come on and let the master show you!”

Marinette shoots a wide-eyed look at Nino, then gulps and approaches Mehdi, while Adrien sidles over to stand with Nino, Alya, and Henri near the board. Nino instinctively takes a step away. He loves Marinette, he really does, but there’s no way he’s going to entrust her with his safety when she’s got a sharp object in her hands.

“Remember that it’s all in the movement,” Mehdi says. “Feet apart!”

Marinette visibly resigns herself to her fate and spreads her feet. Mehdi pauses with his hands just above her shoulders until she nods, then guides her so that she’s side-on from the dartboard with her right foot forward.

“Now, make sure you’re holding the barrel.”

“The what?”

In response, Mehdi positions Marinette’s fingers around the barrel of the dart, then lifts her right arm so that her forearm is at a square angle to her face.

“Don’t hold it too tight,” Mehdi says. “Just take aim…and shoot!”

Right before Marinette releases the dart, a feeling of cold foreboding washes over Nino; the kind of foreboding that one gets when their life is about to flash before their eyes. He jumps back behind Henri and pulls Alya with him, leaving poor Adrien as the unsuspecting sacrifice who’s grinning and cheering Marinette on as she squares her shoulders and then throws with determination.

THOCK.

Alya’s hands fly up to cover her mouth, muffling her choked gasp, while Nino’s eyes bulge out of his head. Every other person in the room is deathly silent. Hell, a white-faced Marinette doesn’t even look like she’s breathing.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “Oh my god!”

“What?” says Adrien, while everyone else stares at him. Nino’s about two seconds from asking if there’s a Unicorn Miraculous, because if he had to think of a piece of magic jewellery for Adrien right now, that’d be his pick.

“You’ve –” Nino numbly gestures to his own head. “You’ve got –”

Adrien just blinks and frowns. How he can’t feel the dart that’s sticking out of his forehead, Nino has no bloody clue. Alya, meanwhile, is shaking as though she can’t decide whether to laugh or freak out. Probably the latter, considering that she hasn’t even pulled out her phone to snap pictures.

“Um,” Mehdi says. “This isn’t what I –”

“Oh my god, it’s in your forehead!” Marinette shrieks. Adrien blinks again and reaches up to fumble for the dart sticking out of the skin of his brow.

“Huh,” he says. “So it is.”

That seems to be Alya’s breaking point; she bursts into hysterical laughter and doubles over, clutching at one of the tables for support. Nino’s unsure whether he’ll ever feel anything again other than the dumbstruck numbness currently settling on him, while Marinette’s face is turning a nice shade of green à la Carapace’s suit.

“Dude,” Nino says. “How the hell are you fine?”

Adrien shrugs. “I can’t even feel it, to be honest. I’ve had worse.”

“Oh, I bet you have!” Marinette shrieks at him. She storms over and jabs a finger at his chest. “I’m sure one measly dart is nothing to you!”

Adrien grins in an uncanny imitation of Chat Noir’s smirk. “Hey, if you wanted to prick me, all you had to do was –”

Marinette yanks the dart out of Adrien’s head and then tugs him clean over her shoulder. “Sorry to cut this short,” she says to Nino, suddenly dead calm except for the way her right eye is twitching. “Adrien and I have some things to discuss. I’m sorry for ruining your night, Mr Lahiffe.”

Alya collapses to the ground as her laughter redoubles.

“Ruined?” Mehdi says, grinning despite the dark skin beneath his beard still holding an ashen hue. Now that they’re sure Adrien’s okay, the atmosphere of the group is lightening to one of mirth rather than horror. “I hardly think you ruined it. That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in, well…I don’t remember.”

“Mehdi really is the next Phil Taylor compared to this young lady,” says another club member – Adeline – and then the room is full of explosive laughter. Adrien just looks back over Marinette’s shoulder and grins and salutes, and Nino almost chokes on his own saliva trying not to laugh, because Marinette will skin him alive if he encourages her boyfriend’s idiocy.

“Looks like Adrien and I are going to bounce,” Marinette says almost serenely. “Sorry to ditch you and Alya.”

“I don’t think Alya really cares at the moment, dude,” Nino says, eyeing his hysterical girlfriend. “Just, uh, make sure my bro’s still in one piece?”

Marinette smiles. “Oh, of course. Have a good night, Nino.” Then she’s deftly navigating through the maze of bar tables with Adrien still over her shoulder, smirking back at Nino, like she hadn’t been the one carried on Adrien’s back on the way in to avoid a disaster. It’s like she’s got an alter-ego who’s taken over right now, to be honest.

“Man, I need a drink,” Nino mumbles, wishing that he wasn’t still two years below the age limit. Between this and his moonlighting as a human turtle every now and then with his furry fox girlfriend, there’s probably not much more that life could throw at him from here on. But he’s got no doubt that it’ll try its best.

[coffeecomicsgalore]

A Beauty and the Chat

Summary: A young seamstress looking for adventure becomes part of a chaotic situation when her father is captured by a beast. Love and kindness give her courage and strength to free her father from captivity, only to lock herself in the castle with her hopes and dreams shattered into pieces.Friendships form, kindness blooms, a family reunited, and a rose waits for its final ending.Will she learn to love a beast? And will he learn to love again?

Ao3

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in the hidden heart of France, a handsome young prince lived in a beautiful castle. Although he could have everything his heart desired, the prince did not have the one thing he wished he could afford – a love to call his own. His mother had died shortly after his thirteenth birthday, and to protect the only heir to the throne, his father selfishly held him behind the walls of the castle, far behind where the young prince could socialize with others. The love he wished to have from his only remaining family member never reached the light of day and the prince’s broken heart shattered into a million pieces.

As the prince grew older, his loneliness and despair only grew worse.  Once his father passed away after his 17th birthday, the prince fell deeper into the abyss, not wanting to leave the castle for fear that death may soon follow him too. No one was allowed in, and the staff on hand were the only ones who could leave on their own accord. The kind-hearted staff chose to stay to be with the boy, lest he shatter away the only glimmer of hope that may still linger in his heart.

Then one night, an unexpected intruder arrived at the castle, seeking shelter from the bitter storm. As a gift, she offered the prince a single rose. Feared by the connection to the outside world and the unwavering darkness that surrounded her, the prince turned the woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by unexpected kindness, for beauty is found within those unforeseen.

When he dismissed her again, the woman's darkened appearance melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.

The prince begged for forgiveness, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love or kindness in his heart. As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.

As days bled into years, the prince and his servants were forgotten by the world. For the enchantress had erased all memory of them from the minds of the people they loved. But the rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose.

If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.

As the years passed, he fell into an unshakable despair and lost all remaining hope that had entered his heart all those years ago. For who could ever learn to love a beast?

-----

Marinette sighed wearily as she wiped the dusting of flour from her brow. The last of the early morning baking was done, ready for her father to distribute to the villagers outside the bakery doors. Slowly, she tidied up the workspace before she walked towards the stairs leading to her home. She made her way back into her room and promptly changed into a garment that would prove comforting while out in the warm June afternoon.  

She fluffed the light petticoat before placing a blush-colored skirt over it. A white wrist-length blouse was buttoned up to her neck with the tail tucked into the skirt. She slipped on a pair of ballet slippers and tied a white apron around her waist in a pretty bow to finish the outfit. She looked at herself in the mirror, swiping off any remaining evidence from her morning work in the bakery, and tied her hair back into a low pony with a thick red ribbon. Giving herself one last look in the mirror, she breathed a sigh in contentment before turning on her heel to finish her morning duties.

Marinette was radiant and lovely, or as her father always told her, she was downright beautiful. She was a petite young lady, filling nicely into her pretty features at the tender age of 16. Bluebell eyes were full of passion and wonderment, while the raven-stark hair and pink puckered lips accentuated her fair skin. Her calloused fingers were ones of a seamstress who pricked her fingers one too many times, while her strength was of a baker’s daughter who could lift a large bag of flour without succumbing to the weight.  

With the bit of her chores completed for the morning, Marinette made her way to the village of Conques to collect a few items for a dress she was in process of creating. As she moved across the common, she greeted the many shop keepers standing in the market as they called out to the villagers who had come out looking to replenish their bare cupboards. She could see florists calling out for men to bring a bushel home to their wives. A farmer calling out that he had plenty of goat’s milk and fresh laid eggs to spare. Down the way was a man with his horse and cart waiting for men that needed a barber to trim their beards. A shoe-shiner and his stand sat idly in front of the hat shop that had been popular with the ladies. Beside them was the little brick shop that held the many samples of fabric from the various countries their counterparts had traveled to.

Marinette hummed quietly to herself as she held the small wooden basket tightly in her hand dreaming of all of the possibilities she could only hope to have one day. She dreamed of a day where she would be able to design and create garments freely for other women to enjoy. With her mama gone, her father needed as much help as he could get in the bakery. It was the best in the village, and while she was biased, her father’s hard work was proven worthy as the villagers could not wait to buy fresh bread and pastries each morning.

She reached her destination with a smile. “Bonjour, Madam Chamack.”

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Marinette. Creating a new design already?”

“You know once a design crosses my mind, I have to make it come to life,” she let out a breathy laugh.  

“As I do know.” Mdm. Chamack mirrored Marinette’s laughter. “Do you need assistance or should I let you wander to your heart’s content?”

“I will come find you if my decision needs assistance.”

Marinette walked towards the many bolts of fabric waiting to be used. Beautiful bright colors and soft fabrics made her smile as she brushed her hand softly against the array of choices. None of those stood out for the design in mind, though. She continued to hum the song her mother would sing to her during her restless nights, giving her solace as she thought over the many choices. As if the world shifted into position, a pale blue fabric had come into view. Marinette sashayed her way over to the fabric to inspect it further. It was the pale blue color that her mother adored, and it had white flowers embroidered to the edge of the bolt. The softness and color were exactly what she had in mind, and the flowers only added to the uniqueness and favorability.

The young lady purchased her cut and said her goodbyes, venturing through the common back towards her home. She walked in a comfortable silence, greeting the fellow villagers as she basked in the warm sun. Her mind was already thinking of new possible ideas for aprons and she took the opportunity to sit at the fountain steps to sketch out some designs.

Marinette enjoyed moments like these. Her father understood Marinette’s passion in design and allowed her freedom to do as she wished. It was all he wanted for her until things had been difficult a few years back. But he never did waver from her desires. He only asked that she help at home before turning her attention elsewhere.

Some of her favorite areas to think and draw are the ones that were bustling with people. She enjoyed seeing the garments that the women wore in the village, some of which inspired her to create better pieces, items that could be useful in the home. One time, she noticed a woman using her apron as a basket, holding her eggs so they wouldn’t fall from her hands. It inspired her to design an apron with almost 20 slots, each slot large enough to hold one egg each. A few of the woman loved the idea so much that they commissioned an apron from her.

Humming her mother’s tune as she sketched, she didn’t notice the tall blond and his brunette friend watching her from the edge of the common.

---

“You know, Lila, she is the most beautiful girl in the village. No other can compare to her.” The tall muscular blond said as he watched her keenly.  

“You’re right. She’s simply the best.” Lila said with an eyeroll. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ve told you. I swear I wonder if you have anything working up there in your mind.” Felix glanced at his companion then sighed. “But she is simply the best. I’m going to ask her to marry me. I deserve the best to be by my side.”

Felix made his way towards the flower cart and grabbed a bushel of flowers. “I’m going to woo Marinette and then find her Father and ask for his blessing. It won’t be hard to find the old man. Best baker in town, you know! But I need to woo her first.” Felix said as he straightened his overcoat. “That girl has avoided me one too many times.”

Lila crossed her arms and watched her partner in action. She chose to stay near the cart, watching another failed attempt of Felix trying to impress the blue-eyed beauty.  

---

Marinette finished another line of her newest design when a lingering shadow crossed over her sketchpad. Looking up, Marinette noticed the specific features that she had come to learn over the last few months. Pausing her work, she placed the pencil on her book and looked up to see the blond standing confidently in front of her.

“Felix.” She said with sugar-covered annoyance. “Lovely seeing you here.”

“Not as lovely as you are, my dear Marinette.” Felix bowed and offered her the flowers. Marinette grabbed the bushel hesitantly and made her way to stand.  

“Thank you, Felix. You really didn’t have to-”

“But I do!” Felix cut in sharply. “Marinette, you are an absolute delight. Anyone would love to have you alongside them.”

Marinette gave him a lopsided smile, one that was disgusted at the words but still trying to show gratitude in the action, no matter how much it pained her to do so. “Is that so? Luckily, I have my father for that.” She smiled to him sweetly.

Felix’s bright smile dropped to a confused glare. His voice, whether it was purposeful or not, was laced with threatening sincerity. “Marinette. You shouldn’t waste time waiting for things. That includes a suitor. The last thing you want to become is a spinster in this village. People are none to kind.”

Marinette looked cautiously at Felix before looking back down to the flowers in her hand. This was not how her life would be. She knew that there was so much more out there to the world and being stranded in this quiet village seemed suffocating at times. But being with Felix? Felix, the boorish man who believed that she should be another trophy for his home? That was the last thing she wanted.

“Thank you, Felix,” she said as she handed back the bouquet, “but I have plenty of flowers in my garden and adventures in my heart that need to be lived. I must go. I know my father needs me.”

Marinette gathered her things and made a quick trot towards the bakery. Felix, stood frozen in his position and stunned at the swift interaction, watched as the blue-eyed beauty walked away. Anger started to fester in his chest.

Lila sauntered towards her friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. “And that makes rejection number 52. Ready to give up lover boy?”

“Lila,” Felix seethed as he tossed the flowers to the ground, “she will be mine. I will make sure of it.”

-----

Marinette made it to the doors of the bakery where she caught a glimpse of a large burly man with his tray of fresh breads. Marinette smiled as she reached her father, placing a quick peck to his cheek.

“Bonjour, papa.”  

“Bonjour, mon cherie. Thank you for cleaning the kitchen and completing your morning chores.”

Marinette smiled, “Of course papa. Maman taught me well.”

Sabine was a petite woman with fierceness in her belly. She took care of the family well, serving her husband and daughter with all the love and care in the world. She helped her husband in the bakery while also making time to teach Marinette how to sew. Her laugh was contagious and her passions were ever present around them. She fell ill and passed a few years ago and her lack of presence left a hole in their lives. But they trudged forward in memory of her.  

“Papa?” Marinette questioned as she picked up the last baguette on the tray and placed it on a full one. “Do you believe there is so much more out there than what our village offers?”  

Tom looked sadly at his daughter, taking in the hidden meaning behind her words. “Of course there is. The adventure is out there. You have to listen to your heart and follow it.”

Marinette looked to the tray and added a few more rolls to it. “Felix believes that I'm waiting for nothing. He implied that marrying him would be better than what my heart wants.”

“What is it that you want?”

Marinette looked to her father for a moment and then out the large window that showcased the rolling hills on the outskirts of the village. A cool breeze entered the bakery, bringing in a coolness in the otherwise warm space. She closed her eyes, allowing the air to circulate around her, filling her lungs with encouragement and strength as she listened to her heart. “A life beyond the walls of this village.” She turned back to her father. “I want to live a life where I can be at peace with myself and be loved for my kindness and warm heart. I want to face adventures with someone willing to take me along. I want to spend my days looking forward to tomorrow. I want to feel free.”

Tom walked to her and engulfed her in a hug. “You will have all that,” he assured her. “Life is an adventure all in itself. Follow your heart and it will bring you to the life you were destined to live.”

“Thanks, papa. You mean the world to me.” She pulled back and smiled. “Now let’s get your cart ready for tomorrow. You have a long night of traveling if you want to make it to Grande-Vabre by morning.”

He smiled brightly back to her. “Then let’s not waste any time.”

Characters:

Belle - Marinette Maurice (Belle's Father) - Tom Gaston - Felix LeFou - Lila Prince (Adam) - Adrien

[buttsonthebeach]

Unspoken Stories

I was so thrilled that @goblin-deity commissioned me to write about Dimitri and Bull! I love their quiet love and it was a joy to portray it here.

My Ko-Fi || My Commissions (Slots closed for now, but will reopen in June 2019)

Pairing: Dimitri Enallasani x the Iron Bull

Rating: General

**********************

The Temple of Mythal had lingered for thousands of years after the fall of Elvhenan, and so it was not a surprise to Dimitri that it lingered in his mind. He sat in his study, high in his tower in Skyhold, and he looked at the battle plans that covered all the scenarios they had dreamed up for their final confrontation with Corypheus - what to do if he attacked Skyhold directly. Possible locations where they could take the fight to him - and yet he pictured everything he had seen in the Arbor Wilds. The glowing blue paths that he had walked on with hesitant, reverent feet. Sera’s mockery and disdain, his growing unease with it. The magic that absolutely drenched everything they touched, the way tendrils of it kept hooking into his own mana and tugging, like the creeping vines that had overtaken so much of the grand stone.

Maybe that had been the Well all along. Calling to him. Inviting him. It hunkered down in the back corners of his mind now, whispering things he did not understand.

Dimitri shook his head to clear it, and tried to refocus on the plans drawn up before him. These were all best case scenarios, assuming that they had time to bring their forces back from the Arbor Wilds before he struck. He had already looked at the less optimistic ones, where their forces did not. If he was Corypheus, he too would strike now, when the Inquisition was spread thin. And after he finished familiarizing himself with the battle plans, there were reports to read from agents in the Frostback Basin and the Storm Coast…

Bull was nearly silent when he needed to be, which was a marvel considering the sheer scale of the man, but he chose not to be silent as he entered Dimitri's quarters. He was quiet, but he made his presence known. Dimitri's shoulders lifted just at the sight of him, his nearness, but he kept his eyes on the report, wanting to absorb the last details of what agents had uncovered about the Avvar of Stone Bear Hold. He knew Bull would wait, and he did, silent and calm and comfortable in the chair across from Dimitri's. It had not always been that way with them - there had been physicality before, but no intimacy, and Dimitri was rapidly learning to appreciate the intimacy in the wake of all he'd seen and learned. The Mark crackled in his hand and he flexed and closed it, willing it to remain stable.

"Okay there, kadan?" Bull asked. He was resting one arm on the table, his hand loosely curled, not quite an offering but close to it. Dimitri put down his quill and reached out to rest his hand on Bull's.

"Fine. Did the Chargers train well today?”

"Ah. They did okay. Grim and Skinner managed to bloody each other's noses over some nonsense or another but Krem got them sorted out. How much longer have you got here, do you think?"

Dimitri sighed, pulling his hand back from Bull's, immediately missing the warmth and strength of those scarred fingers.

"All night."

Bull reached out and caught his hand again. "Now, that I can't stand for. I have a reservation for us."

Dimitri could not help a sputtering laugh at the idea. "Really, now?"

"Yes. Krem is holding our usual table at the Herald's Rest. It was the fanciest I could get on short notice, you know."

Dimitri sighed, drumming his fingers against the table, his mind already wheeling back to the paperwork before him, the mountain it represented, the people who relied on him, and how he could not fail them. The Well’s whispers surged a little louder in his mind, his magic buzzed a little closer to the surface of his skin.

“Kadan,” Bull said, voice low.

“I can’t,” Dimitri said, fist closed now, no more finger drumming, because it was too much like the drumbeat of his mind. “I have so much that needs doing.”

Bull leaned back in his chair. “You know, I heard that a lot in Seheron. Shopkeeps and butchers and cobblers all claiming they had no time for a night off or a late morning. Lot of them ended up dead without ever really living, I think.”

“Were you any better?” Dimitri said, voice gentle. Seheron was a livid bruise across Bull’s heart, one that would never heal. Dimitri had his own memories of the island - the heat, the violence, the desperation, the disasters. Little Daniel.

“No. But I’m trying to be. You should too.”

Dimitri felt the possible arguments bubbling up through his chest. There really was every possibility that Corypheus might strike soon, and he needed to know what to do, needed a thorough understanding of every single option, because he would be damned if they suffered and lost the way Clan Enallasani had back in the Anderfels - over, and over, and over again, an endless retreat until their backs hit a wall - because he would be damned if Corypheus came for Skyhold, if anything happened to Daniel and Ellie, his children, more precious than anything else.

"I have to be prepared," Dimitri said. "For Daniel and Ellie's sake, if nothing else. I’ve had to talk to them about it, you know. About what to do if the castle is attacked."

“I get that,” Bull said, neutrally, evenly. Then, with more warmth. “You are a good father, kadan.”

Dimitri sat in silence a moment longer. He traced the sharp angles of Bull’s face, let his gaze linger on his sea-colored eyes.

“Very well,” Dimitri said, rising. “Let’s go.”

It was a chilly night, but Bull radiated warmth, as always, and though they did not hold hands as they walked to the Herald’s Rest there was an ease between them that had not been there previously, in their early friendship or even their early dalliance, when everything was sex and sex was nothing. Dimitri found himself wanting to lean into that warmth, to continue his study Bull’s face and the stories written there. They were neither of them young men, and they had bodies that showed it, and that was perfect. Dimitri would take the stories over untouched youth any day.

The tavern was lit with the amber glow of guttering torches and heated by all of the bodies within it, and the sweet, sticky smell of mead hit Dimitri’s nose at once, followed by the sour smell of unwashed bodies and cheap ale, and the table Krem had saved for them was terribly cramped in the corner, especially with Bull’s bulk, but Dimitri still found himself easing into the space, ignoring the glances his presence drew. It only got easier once Bull returned with their own mead, and slouched fully into his seat so their thighs touched beneath the table. It was such an easy intimacy, then, to drop his hand to Bull’s knee, and simply touch him. Bull looked at him and smiled.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.”

“Good.”

They settled into the moment. Dimitri could not help but think that the intimacy between them like the vines on the walls of the Temple of Mythal. They did not conceal the cracks, the wounds, the age of the place. But they filled in the gaps. Dimitri and Bull were men who had lived rough lives but here, in this bar, in the hazy light and surrounded by the chatter of strangers, they could find tenderness again. Dimitri centered himself in that tenderness, let his breath expand to fill every corner of his chest. He took long, slow sips of his mead and tried to push the images of the different plans for defending Skyhold from his mind.

"You're getting a pretty little flush," Bull said, his grin lopsided, and Dimitri's heart beat faster at the sight of it.

"Good mead. Good company. How could I not get a little flushed?"

Bull laughed, the sound broad and gravelly. It was quiet, though - not his big, booming laugh, which would have drawn looks from every corner of the bar. It was for Dimitri's ears alone, and he wished suddenly that he could bottle the sound, uncork it whenever he needed. Maybe he could, if they could make it through the end of this war. If the Anchor didn't kill him. If the Ben Hassrath did not send more agents after Bull. It was the first time in some months that Dimitri had really thought of an after to all this. He did not long for it, not even with his blood warm with alcohol and the smell of Bull's oiled leather harness and vitaar filling his nose. He knew he did not have space for such longing, such forlorn wistfulness. His life had taught him that long before he fell from the sky at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

But he did, perhaps, have space for hope.

Dimitri lifted Bull's hand from the table, cradling it in both of his own, smoothing his thumbs down the weathered creases of it, feeling the places where the muscles were knotted from swinging his heavy axe. Bull let out a low, rumbling sound of enjoyment. Dimitri smiled, pleased, pressed his thumbs into the calloused grey skin.

"Good?" He asked.

"You always are."

Dimitri's smile grew broader. He lifted Bull's hand and kissed the palm, and breathed in the scent that was just Bull.

"Another round?" Bull asked when Dimitri released his hand.

"I think not. One was enough."

"Agreed."

They sat in silence a while longer. Songs broke out in different corners of the tavern, coming and going like summer rainstorms. A fight threatened to start between a Warden and what appeared to be a Dalish recruit but it was quickly silenced. Bull draped one arm over Dimitri's shoulders and Dimitri sank into him, letting Bull take all his weight. He went a step further, eventually - sliding across the distance so that he was in Bull's lap at last, able to feel each full breath that swelled in his lover's chest. Bull put his arms around him, pressed a kiss to his hair, ran his hand absently up and down Dimitri’s thigh.

“You smell good,” Bull murmured after a moment.

Dimitri hummed in reply.

As the moments passed, he rested his head in the crook of Bull's neck, and he finally let the reports and battle plans slip fully from his mind. He sat in the tavern with the man he loved and he watched the world go by and left no room in his thoughts for anything other than a small, simple hope for more nights like this one in the years to come.

[therealjammy]

Flight, Merciless

This was a gift for an acquaintance of @gengarofinterest ‘s. Commission slots are still open, if you’re interested. (More on this in a minute.)

They were staying in upstate New York, very close to New Rochelle and its boarding school where Root had had her meeting with Samaritan’s Analogue Interface. The house was large and modern, with a backyard that faced a woody park. According to Root, it was one of Harold’s very first safehouses. When they’d arrived last week, it hadn’t seen occupants in years, and yet someone had kept it clean.

           John had left Root in the master bedroom in favor of going out and getting groceries and coffee. By now, he knew of Root’s affinity for Starbucks coffee, and got it for her as often as he could. Every person on Earth had a winter vice. Root’s just so happened to be that one. But coffee was what kept her going, and a decent amount of pills that she took once a day to keep herself from falling over. She slept poorly. Several times he was tempted to buy melatonin, or a stronger sleeping pill, but he figured he would have to ask before making that kind of purchase.

           Just get what you’d gotten when you were a college student, Root had told him when he was making the grocery list.

           What about when you were a college student? he’d asked.

           I was a killer-for-hire when I was college-aged. I lived off takeout and room service and the occasional beef-flavored cup noodles.

           Had it been Shaw he was staying with, he would’ve bought her her comfort foods. But this was Root, volatile and fragile, and he didn’t know what her comfort foods were. So he had to guess. He grabbed various meats and vegetables, frozen meals, bags of pasta and different sauces, and desserts. On the way back, he stopped at the nearest Starbucks. Since the month had rolled over to December, they had their Christmas flavors out. The Christmas roast was ever-popular; every customer seemed eager to get their hands on it. John scanned the menu, and realized that he didn’t know what Root’s usual coffee order was.

           Hi there, said the cashier. What can I get you?

           A grande pike in a venti cup, John said, and a grande Christmas roast.

           Is that all?

           Yes sir. He pulled out his wallet and paid with a twenty, accepting the change and stepping off to the side to wait.

 —

 There was music playing when John got back to the house. It was coming from the master bedroom upstairs. A classical piece, by the sound of it. Schubert, maybe? He wondered when Root had gotten an ear for opera.

           He put all the groceries in their proper places and went up to tell Root. He found her sitting in the middle of the king bed, laptop open and brightly lit, but not working. Just staring. He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him over the rims of her glasses.

           Bought some things, he said. He held out the cup of Christmas roast for her. Got you some coffee, too.

           Root got out of bed for the third time and accepted the coffee. She asked, What did you buy?

           A few things. I didn’t know what your comfort foods were.

           Root’s face softened slightly. Maybe the only person who’d bought her comfort foods was Shaw, after their partnership turned into a friendship.

           How’s your cooking? John asked.

           It’s decent, Root said, though it’s not Sameen’s.

           She made you food?

           Despite everything, there was a sad sort of smile in Root’s eyes. She made me food every now and then. It was a habit that started when I interrupted her private time because I needed her stitching skills. Root sipped her coffee. Are we going to make dinner?

           We can start whenever you want.

           Root went over to her laptop and the music stopped.

           I didn’t know you liked opera, John said.

           It’s growing on me.

 —

 Dinner was quiet, as they almost always were. Root played with her food more than she ate it, dragging her fork through the pork dish, or painting the other side of her plate with the sauce that was supposed to accompany it. Reminiscent of a habit of Jessica’s. She’d do this too, when something was on her mind. She would brush it off with a, It’s nothing you should worry about. John hadn’t known what Jessica was thinking. With Root, it was easier. She was thinking of Shaw, and Samaritan, and outcomes.

           Sometimes She and I are similar, Root had said, at the beginning of all this. We run through possibilities, sometimes about the future, and other times about what could’ve gone differently.

           John’s appetite was dwindling, too. And even though the food was supposed to taste good, he took no notice. Everything was tasteless. Worse than the ready-to-eat packs that his troop had used when he was in the military. But he forced the food down anyway. They wouldn’t find Shaw on empty stomachs or when they fainted from lack of substance.

           Root was still sitting at the table when John was cleaning up the dishes. Her plate was barely touched; she’d only taken a few bites of her pork and drunk only half her glass of water.

           Do you think they passed through here? John asked softly.

           Don’t know, Root replied. I don’t even know where to begin. She picked up her fork again, painted with the sauce. We’re supposed to be tracking a truck.

           There’s little sign of it.

           I’ve worked with worse. We have footage of it.

           The footage was grainy, John remembered, but it was the truck. He turned back to the dishes, plunging his hands into the hot dishwater. So far in their search, there weren’t many signs of the truck. They stopped at every gas station they could think of and asked to see their security footage, flashing their various badges to gain cooperation. They’d had almost no luck until their last stop, just before coming up here, where the grainy footage was shown to them on the gas station’s staticky TV. Root suspected they’d come through New Rochelle, though until they explored tomorrow, there was no telling.

           You should go to bed early tonight, John said. Try to get some good hours. He saw Root nodding. At last, she got up and gave her plate, fork, and glass to him.

           Thank you for cooking, she murmured. It was good.

 […]

 By now, John was used to quiet. It’d stretched from the moment his father’s casket had been lowered from the plane until now, where he was sitting in the kitchen on guard. Moments of expanded silence filled his life. He’d spent them with his mother in their Colorado house, with military buddies before missions and during them, with Kara in a lull before they went after another traitor, with Harold, when he was asked to stay for a drink and small talk until he was dismissed. He always knew when other people were awake. It produced an itch in the silence and a feeling in your ribcage and it was like you could sense the other person, almost as if you were a satellite picking up heat signatures. He could sense Root’s restlessness, almost hear her tossing and turning in that giant bed, almost hear her blinks and breathing and the twisting knot of anxiousness in her gut. He wondered if he should go into the bedroom after all, if she would feel better with him there.

           Somewhere in the living room, a clock chimed the hour. Dong, ding. 2 AM. He got up and double-checked the doors and windows, and then quietly made his way upstairs. He peeked into the master bedroom, saw the outline of Root lying on her back with her hands folded over her abdomen.

           I’ll see you in the morning, he said.

           Goodnight, Root said, rather curtly.

           The pillow in the guest bedroom was too hard, but he sank gratefully into the soft mattress. Within half an hour, he finally drifted off to sleep.

 —

 Her mother had often told her that the hours of the night were merciless in the way that they allowed you to think without interruption. Root became aware of that truth just days after her thirteenth birthday, when Hanna was officially declared missing. She’d lay awake wondering what happened to her, where she was, hoping that she was okay and warm somewhere. Yet the truth had always been there: Hanna was dead maybe mere minutes after climbing into Trent Russell’s car.

           That wasn’t the case with Shaw. A truth lied there, too: Root knew she was alive. Her thoughts lay along that path. Where was Shaw? Where was that white truck taking her? What did Samaritan want with her? And, worst of all, would she ever come back?

           It was no secret that their odds of survival increased with Shaw by their sides. They would need her when they battled against Samaritan at full force. There would be almost no other way.

           You have to be prepared to lose people, Harry, she’d told Finch before she and John left. Or even yourself.

           Death comes for us all, Root, he’d responded, and Root’s heart had almost soared at the use of her name, sometimes sooner than others. He’d spun around in his chair then, stopping both of them in their tracks. Are you sure you want to leave?

           Yes, John had said. We need Shaw. We’re not going to find her wiling away down here.

           History often likes to repeat itself, her mother had told her too. Sometimes twice, sometimes more. First it was Hanna that was taken from her, and then it was Shaw. It seemed history was always eager to take the people Root loved most just to shake her about. And in the early hours of dawn, she found herself wondering if this would always be her fate. She counted the differences between these two disappearances in her head: One, there was no resurfacing evidence with Hanna; there’s resurfacing evidence of Sameen in the form of a white truck. Two, you knew Hanna was dead; you know Sameen is alive. Three, you couldn’t save Hanna; you can save Sameen. Four, there was no hope; there is hope.

—

[velkynkarma]

Get to Know the Author

@bosstoaster has been tagging me all night :P

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

I’ve had the name ‘Karma’ for about 17 years now? I don’t even remember where it came from. The ‘Velkyn’ got added a little over 10 years ago when I decided I wanted to get back into fic writing. But I was still in that phase where you think you’re supposed to ‘grow out’ of fandoms and writing fanfiction, so I didn’t want any of my friends to know I was doing it. I was embarrassed. It was silly. I picked a different handle, VelkynKarma, which actually means ‘hidden Karma.’ Later I just liked the name and also got over my embarrassment for fic writing and just started using it everywhere.

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos).

No matter what statistic you look at, Routine Maintenance wins across the board by a large margin. Parasite Knight only has 1 less subscription, though, so I guess it’s a fair contender on subs.

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

Same as my tumblr icon, it’s one of my OC’s, Morrigu Lovel. He is a little smartass and I love him.

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

Oh for sure, there’s a few lovely readers that come back every time and always have something to say. I love you guys :) And a few others that don’t comment on every chapter or every work, but the comments they leave are always phenomenal and make my day.

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

Depends on my mood, and I don’t necessarily read the entire fic, just the paragraphs/scenes/chapters that really stick out to me. But yeah, I’ve got some favorites I return to a lot.

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

Oh geez. This one’s hard to say since I watch stuff on AO3 and FF.net. A lot? I think a lot of those fics are dead now though.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

Mmmm I don’t really have a tendency to stick to any particular series or AU for very long? I guess in terms of general themes I’ve done zombie AU’s the most, between Age of Heroes for Young Justice and Road Trip to End Times for Voltron...something about zombie apocalypse scenarios just fascinates me, especially since it can be done so many different ways.

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

252 user subs, 444 work subs, 2039 bookmarks. I didn’t even know that until now, huh

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

There’s some character interactions that are such hot-button topics in the VLD fandom I’m cautious about approaching them because I don’t want to deal with people complaining or begging for things to get escalated. Like, I love Keith and Lance’s interactions in canon, but don’t have much fic centered around them because ship lashback is real.

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

Short fic. What is brevity even? I can’t do zines or commissions because I can’t figure out how to manage a damn word count.

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

Nope! I don’t write any ships at all. I just write platonic interaction. Though I guess I wouldn’t be adverse to a platonic ‘rarepair’ as long as I liked the characters’ interaction potential.

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

So far, 25. 23 of those are Voltron, 1 is Young Justice, and 1 is Supernatural (experimenting with cross-posting on both of those last two, some fandoms are just hard to break into or not on certain sites).

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

Oh boy. In progress? I wanna say 3. Notes? A lot, lot more.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

I jot down notes! Or email myself ideas if I’m at work/out and about. Or speak them into a little portable digital tape recorder I keep next to my bed, if it’s the middle of the night and I have an idea, but lack dexterity to type.

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

Not in a long, looong time.

16. How did you discover AO3?

Through TVTropes. Every time I finished a new series I’d swing by to read tropes pages and see if there were any decent fic recs. At first they all went to Fanfiction.net or livejournal but, over time, this ‘Archive�� thing kept showing up. I made an account to lurk or subscribe to things but didn’t actually start posting to it until at least a year later.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

Moderately well known in the platonic corner of it probably assuming people know bosstoaster and I are not actually the same person lol but probably not well known outside of that. Once upon a time I was a Big Name in the One Piece fandom, but after the timeskip I fell out of the fandom and lost my pirate king throne. That’s okay, it was fun while it lasted.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

No but you all are too kind

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

In terms of ‘official’ authors, Brandon Sanderson is everything I ever aspire to be as a writer, and I take a lot of inspiration from that. For fic? My buddy BlackFriar was super helpful during the Young Justice era. More recently in the VLD fandom, @maychorian was big for just...getting me to stay in the fandom at all? One of her fics got me hooked and I stuck around, and then felt compelled to write, instead of just drifting off to the next interesting thing. And the Think Tank ( @bosstoaster @butteredonions @ashinan @mumblefox ) have all been huge for getting me to keep writing, between writing sprints and interesting discussions and a lot of encouragement, so that’s been huge for me this past year.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

At the risk of sounding like that one video...just do it. It’s scary to put yourself out there, but just do it. You learn by doing. You also learn by absorbing new things around you, so read a lot and try new stuff; you never know when something completely random or a personal experience might actually add a lot to your story. And finally, write for you, first. Write the stories you want to see. Writing for comments/bookmarks/reblogs only goes so far. It means your motivation is reliant solely on people liking your work, which means you start writing for other people and not for yourself...and if reception is lackluster, it can kill your ability to finish a project, which hurts your practice at follow-through. It’s a slippery slope and starts to make the whole thing a lot less fun and a lot more of a chore. Write things you want to read, and if you feel like sharing them after, other people might like them too, but it’s important that you like it, first.

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

Has to be plotted completely. If I try to wing it I meander or get hung up on trying to keep track of details. Turns into total garbage.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

A few times, sure. Happens to everyone. Most often, it’s people begging, demanding, or insinuating that my platonic fics should include a ship, especially if the fic focuses on the interactions of two specific characters. Those are very frustrating because I’m always upfront about the fic being friendship only, and there are usually a million other ship fics already out there. Leave my platonic fic alone! I usually ignore the comments, or just politely remind people it’s friendship only and will remain that way. In one bewildering instance in a different fandom I had somebody who had been thoroughly enjoying the fic up until the climactic battle, whereupon they were furious at how it was resolved, and took great pains to tell me just what they thought. That one stung. I had to sit on it for a few days before I worked up the nerve to respond, and chatted with a few friends over it too. In the end I realized that it was more comparable to a fan really enjoying a canon work but being mad about a sudden twist that just didn’t seem right to them. It happens. I thanked them for reading, explained that I disagreed with their comments but did hear them, and thanked them for their time. Best I could do.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

I am straight-up incapable of romance, period. Even so far as to slide into ‘fake’ romance (I once got prompted for fake marriage/dating and literally couldn’t envision how to do it? It’s just so foreign to me). Or flirting. I can’t even identify flirting IRL. Basically anything in that general area of writing is completely out of my league. I can write intense scenes that are intimate in non-romantic, non-sexual ways, but those are really difficult for me to do too and I’m constantly second-guessing myself in case it’s maybe too much.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

If I told you I’d have to kill you. But no, srsly, I don’t like to share ideas in progress until it’s almost done, just in case. Sometimes I share and then immediately lose interest, but I’ve already raised peoples’ hopes, and that’s just a dick move.

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

I’ll have outlines, or sometimes need to plan around prompts. I don’t usually do series, so I never really need to plan too far ahead though. Sometimes if I’m plotting a crossover/AU I’ll obtain the source material and read/watch/play it to start gathering notes for that fic while working on a different fic, so that by the time I’m done writing the current story, the AU’s skeleton is plotted out and I have a place to slot in all the characters.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

No. I’ve gotten better habits since working with the Think Tank but I still tend to be more of a ‘burst’ writer (no activity for days or weeks, and then suddenly word vomiting 100K in a month).

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

By a HUGE margin

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

Oooh, that’s a toss-up between Phantasmagoria and Prince of Memory. The former because I love writing horror and it’s an idea I’d wanted to tackle for a while. The latter because it was a personal writing challenge to myself that I honestly wasn’t sure was going to go over all that well, but the response was stunning, and I was quietly surprised.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

Caged Bird, from a different fandom. I make it a personal rule to never delete stories that I’ve posted, but ooh man, I wanted to get rid of this one really bad. I was happy when LJ gutted it. I actually don’t have any real dislike for any of my Voltron stuff.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

Still writing because I’d die if I stopped. Like a shark. But with writing.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

That flash of inspiration, when you get an idea and suddenly it’s building itself almost too fast for you to keep up. Dialogue. Action sequences.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

Getting started. Titles. Editing. Research. Any particularly emotional moment.

33. Why do you write?

Because fandoms are fun but I have so many questions after. “What if X happened? What if Y was a factor? Why not Z?” I try to hunt down answers to these questions in fandoms and if the fic isn’t already written, I write it. Also to challenge myself to do things that haven’t been done in the fandom yet, or to tackle things I haven’t tried yet.

I think everyone’s been tagged already so...feel free to play if you want, I guess!

[kunaigirl]

Hey guys! It’s been a long time coming, but my commissions slots are finally open again! First things first, a little bit about me! (more work examples) My name is Allison, and I’m a lesbian who, for lack of better words, is really low on money right now. I have one year left in college, and I need to save up money for food and other necessary things. I’m an animation major and I’m currently working on my senior thesis film, which is taking up a lot of my time along with helping around the house. Besides my college work, I’ve also been working on my webcomic too! Long story short, I’m super busy! Anyways, I love creating worlds and characters and sharing my work with the world. I’ve been improving A LOT over the past 2 years, so I thought it was time to open things up again! TLDR: If you want to help out a struggling gay artist who’s trying to finish college AND get a custom drawing out of it, this post is for you! Anyways, back to the details! Everything is pretty self explanatory but I’ll write things out too.  Sketches:  Busts: $10.00. Waist-up: $15.00. Full Body: $25.00. Extra characters: +$5.00  Lines: Busts: $15.00, Waist-up: $20.00, Full Body: $30.00, Extra characters +$10.00 Full Color Renders: Busts: $20.00. Waist-up: $30.00. Full Body: $40.00. Extra characters +$15.00 Black and white renders: Prices can range between $25-30.00 depending on the complexity. We’ll need to talk about details and other components before the pricing can be final.  (If you want a more complicated background for any of the options above, additional prices can be discussed accordingly!) [[[ Notes! ]]]] -Payment is accepted via PayPal up front. (send all PayPal payments to kunaigirl128@live.com) -You’ll get a 300 DPI PNG or JPG file (or whichever you’d prefer) - I can do NSFW content. Be aware however that this option is only for clients that are over 18 years of age. Keep in mind that I have the right to deny an order if I’m personally uncomfortable with the requested content. Otherwise, we can totally work something out! 

CONTACT ME! You can contact me on this blog (kunaigirl.tumblr.com) via message/ask OR email me at kunaigirl128@live.com. If you send me an ask, make sure it’s off anon! In your message, please specify: -What/who you’d like me to draw (with references, if you have them) -Bust, waist-up, or full body -If you want a Sketch, Full color, or Black and White rendered drawing. -Any specific dimensions you’d want your image to be if applicable. Thank you so much for considering! I would appreciate if you could give this post a reblog for now if you can! If you want to help me out in other ways, I also have a RedBubble store! And a Ko-Fi account! Any little bit can make a huge difference! Thank you!  Have a nice day everyone! :D  -Allison (kunaigirl.tumblr.com)

[infinitehouseofbooks]

BLOG TOUR - Sevyn

    Welcome to Shannon Muir’s Infinite House of Books!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Bewitching Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Sevyn

Renee Dyer

Genre: Thriller/ Romantic Suspense/

Dark Romance

Publisher: Forever Red Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-941853-39-9

Number of pages: 300

Cover Artist: Lee Ching from Under Cover Designs

Tagline: When life hands you impossible choices, can you become the man you want to be?

Book Description:

Born into rival drug cartels, Kevyn Zozlov and his best friend Esperanza Torres defy the odds, finding laughter in a world full of pain. Ripped away from her at a young age, Kevyn has to learn the difference between family, loyalty, and obedience. Fear keeps him focused each day. Memories fill his dreams at night.

Torn between the death he sees daily and what he believes is right, he struggles to decide the kind of man he wants to be—until a promise he makes to his mother, the person he loves more than anyone, changes everything.

“Get out of here and find Esperanza. Promise me.”

Now, Kevyn has to figure out how to make his way to the only friend he ever had—the one person who understands his damaged world. Will she welcome him back with open arms, or turn him away, leaving him more lost than he already is?

With time against him, can he find Esperanza and his happiness, or will he be another casualty of the drug war, buried in an unmarked grave with no one to mourn his loss?

Buy It Here:

U.S. Booksellers

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B072FD5W8D

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/sevyn

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1236505322

http://www.inktera.com/store/title/f61e5e13-197c-4cc9-b9e0-d5b4ad520587

https://www.books2read.com/u/mdKyrX

International Booksellers

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B072FD5W8D

https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B072FD5W8D

https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B072FD5W8D

Interview With the Author:

What initially got you interested in writing? 

I wish I could tell you some glamorous tale, but the truth is I can’t remember a time I wasn’t writing.  My mom bought me doodle pads when I was four, which  morphed into journals by the time I was seven.  I got in the habit of writing words or snippets I thought would turn into masterpieces later.  Sometimes I was able to work with them and other times, they were just jumbles on a page.  I still use that method today.

How did you decide to make the move into being a published author?

I didn’t make the decision myself, not exactly.  Waking Up was never meant to be a novel.  It started off as a short story I was writing for my friend and neighbor, Amie, but she loved it so much, I kept writing.  She was adamant someone besides her needed to read my work, so she pushed until I agreed to publish.

What do you want readers to take away from reading your works?

Enjoyment—an escape from daily life.  It’s why I read, and I hope to give that same pleasure to everyone who reads my work.

What do you find most rewarding about writing?

The connections I’ve formed with others in the book community.  It’s amazing to talk to people who love the written word like I do, who understand what it feels like to get lost in a story, and don’t think I’m crazy for it.

What do you find most challenging about writing?

Sex scenes—holy balls, they’re the worst.  Seriously.  It is so hard.  I’m constantly trying to make sure it doesn’t read like a how to manual.  I mean, who wants to read, “insert tab A into slot B”?  So boring.

What advice would you give to people want to enter the field?

Write what makes your heart sing.  Don’t write thinking you’re going to make the crowd happy, because at the end of the day, you can’t make everyone happy.  Don’t rush your story.  When you do it shows.  Write it, until it feels complete.  You can always go back and flush out what slows the story down, or doesn’t work.  But most importantly…write.  You can’t get anywhere if you don’t put any words on the page.

What ways can readers connect with you?

The best way is Facebook.  I check that page the most, but here are all my social media links.

Facebook author page

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorReneeDyer

  Twitter

https://twitter.com/ReneeDyerAuthor

  Instagram

https://www.instagram.com/reneedyer1/

  Amazon Author Page:

https://www.amazon.com/author/reneedyer

  Pinterest Page:

http://www.pinterest.com/reneedyerauthor/

  Google + Page:

https://plus.google.com/u/0/+ReneeDyerRomanceAuthor/posts

  Goodreads Page:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7529668.Renee_Dyer

Excerpt:

There is no way to explain the punch in the gut you feel seeing someone murdered.  The sound of the gun shooting.  The way their head jerks.  That moment before the body realizes that its essence is gone, eyes staring nowhere, devoid of all emotion, before finally crumbling to the ground.  Blood dribbles from their lips and pools on the floor. It’s like your soul performs one last dance before wrenching away to find out what lays beyond.  One last morbid, horrific waltz, it gripped onto me and imbedded every detail into my young mind.

I would never be the same.

He was really gone.

I never wanted to be responsible for someone’s death, but I was responsible for this.  My father was dead because of me.  As he laid there, his eyes devoid of life, no longer able to judge me—hate me, I looked up to the sky and silently thought to my mother…justice is yours.

  About the Author:

From a young Renee Dyer had a love of writing, starting with a doodle pad at age four that morphed into journals.  Poetry became short stories and short stories a novel.  Although she’s surrounded by males all day having three sons, a husband, and a hyperactive chocolate lab, she still finds time to be herself by escaping into the fantasy of reading and writing romance.  That is, until she needs a male’s perspective and garners eye rolling from her husband at all of her questions.  Renee is a true New Englander.  You can find her screaming profanity at the TV while the Pats play and cuddling under blankets during the cold seasons (which is most of them), reading a good book.  She doesn’t believe snow is a reason to shut things down, only to slow down and admire the beauty.  Ask her anything.  She’s an open book—pun fully intended.

Facebook Author Page

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorReneeDyer

Twitter

https://twitter.com/ReneeDyerAuthor

Amazon Author Page:

https://www.amazon.com/author/reneedyer

Pinterest Page:

http://www.pinterest.com/reneedyerauthor/

Google + Page:

https://plus.google.com/u/0/+ReneeDyerRomanceAuthor/posts

Goodreads Page:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7529668.Renee_Dyer

   Remember to join INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS for author interviews, guest posts, book excerpts, and more!

BLOG TOUR – Sevyn was originally published on the Wordpress version of SHANNON MUIR'S INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS.