#I’ve literally been losing my mind since Wednesday because I got a full ride too!!!

[lil-miss]

PURE CHANCE ON MY DASH THIS EVENING I GOT IN FOR FILM OMG!!

SOMETHING LGBT JUST HAPPENED TO ME ( <- got into the overwhelmingly queer arts school for writing)

[bella-spil]

The Enlightenment

Final part of It began with a Question series.

Fem reader.  

Warnings: SMUT(18 or older please!), fluff, cursing.

Word count: 3.5k

Taglist: @sea040561​ @wednesday-add-em​ @angrythingstarlight​ (lmk if you want to join)

A/N: This is my first, and maybe last SMUT story.  Also this is the last part of the series and I'm so thankful for all the support I have gotten from the series.  Also, enjoy!!!  

You and Bucky headed back to his room.  Tension filled your mind as your nerves got the better of you.  You were about to give your body away to your boyfriend.  Not that you had any complaints about it, you knew you would love it.  But you were just nervous if it might hurt or anything like that.

Bucky plopped down on the bed, with you sitting on his chest.  Before you did anything together, you wanted to get something on your mind out.

“Now I can call you ‘doll’ without getting picked on,“ Bucky chuckled.  You laughed at his joke.

"Yeah.  Thanks for everything." you smiled, drawing tiny circles around his clothed chest.

"For what, doll?" Bucky asked, looking down at you.

"Well, for agreeing to Peter's plan," you said.  "Playing the game with me and one other thing."

"And what might that be?" Bucky grinned.

You smiled and blushed at what was going to come out of your mouth next.  You knew it was going to be cheesy, but you didn't give two shits.  

"For being mine," you blushed.  

Bucky smiled back at you.  He knew he would be yours at some point, or at least he hoped.  But hearing you say he was yours, ooo that did something to him.  

You looked into Bucky's eyes and saw stars from the reflection of the light hitting his eyes just right.  His eyes were dark blue on the rings, but as they went to his pupils, they turned into a light, icy blue.  It was a beautiful ombre, one that was unrivaled by anyone.  As your hand was on Bucky's chest, you could feel the rise and fall of his breathing and how strong his muscles were, since they were peaking through the shirt so much.  

He growls like a lion and bites his lip.  He closed his eyes and tilted his head back into the pillow even further.  You had no clue how much you were turning him on, but the sight of Bucky being turned on was so captivating that you had no idea where to look.

"You have no idea what you do to me, doll," Bucky said, his voice gravels and is deeper than normal.  He sat up and so did you.  Bucky took in your appearance, and it was such a sight to behold.  You looked like something from a movie, but better.  It was a beautiful sight, but also a sinful one.  Your H/C hair was sprawled out, tiny pieces in your face.  It spread along your shoulders and back.  Your hands were on Bucky's shoulders, and you straddled onto his lap.  Your smile brightened up his room, and Bucky couldn't help but smile at you.  Your eyes were full of love and passion, while his were clouded with lust.  He loved how your hands felt one him.  He loved how messy yet perfect your hair was.  He loved how your eyes always felt like home to him.  He loved you.

"No James.  Care to enlighten me?" you mocked.  You said your boyfriend's real name, which earned a little growl out of him.  You moved your left hand into Bucky's hair, and earned a small moan from him, which sounded like heaven to you.  You were learning so much about what Bucky liked before you even did anything.  And you were going to take little mental notes for future reference.

Then, in a fraction of a second, you were suddenly underneath the Winter Soldier.  He pinned you down so that you could feel his lips grazing yours.  His dog tags were dangling in front of your face, reflecting the light.  His hair was falling in front of his face, which you moved and placed behind his ear.  He looked so angelic, with the way his hair fell into his face, the way his burning eyes looked at you, the way his dog tags were dangling off his neck.  Everything about him seemed to be good to be true.  He placed his metal arm next to your head, so he could support himself.  His right arm was moving down your body, to your inner thigh as he knew it was your weakness from multiple makeout sessions.  You whimpered at his touch, and his drive to touch every inch of you heightened.

"Doll," Bucky began.  His Brooklyn accent was coming through and oh boy, you felt so good only from a voice.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hold you like this.  I’ve wanted this for so long and it’s been so hard to not just grab you, drag you to my room, and fuck the living daylight outta you.  I wanna make you feel so good, doll.  I wanna make you scream my name over and over again until you forget your own name.  I wanna ravage your body and touch every inch of your soft skin.  I want you to cum so much, your cunt will be numb when I’m finished with you.  I wanna make you only where I can see.  I wanna make you never forget how I make you feel.  I wanna make love to ya, baby.  I want you to be mine." Bucky said, his voice full of lust. 

As he was saying all his dirty thoughts to you, you wanted nothing more than to make them come true.  Bucky never broke his gaze from you.  You could feel yourself getting wet, only from his words.  He was slowly moving his right arm closer and closer to your wetness, and the only thing preventing him from putting his fingers inside you was your pair of PJ shorts.  

True to his word, he locked his lips with you.  He wanted to touch every inch of you.  His hands moved from your hair, to your waist to your breasts and everywhere else he could touch.  He slipped his metal arm past your shorts, past your thong and into you.  You close your eyes and your back arched off the bed and you adjusted to his finger.  You were a virgin, so this was a completely new feeling for you, an incredibly good feeling.

"Buck-" your voice breaks off into a heavenly moan.  Bucky freezes, not believing he heard his name leave your mouth.  He knew when you would moan his name, it would sound amazing, but actually hearing you do it was out of this world to him.  Bucky couldn't wait to hear it over and over again as the night carried on.

"Bucky?" you asked, Bucky still as still as a statue on top of you.  You got concerned you did something wrong, so you tried moving.  But that was the wrong idea, and Bucky came back out of his thoughts.  His grip tightened on you, his metal fingers still inside you.

"Say it again," Bucky commanded.

"Say what?" you asked, getting more and more confused.

"My name," Bucky said, staring right at you.

"Bucky?" you asked more than said.  But then the Winter Soldiers movements inside you increased in speed.  Suddenly, it hit on you what Bucky was saying for you to do.  And you wanted to make him believe he was dreaming.

"Again," Bucky commanded.

"Bucky.." you moaned, louder and it sounded like music to Bucky's ears, as he let out a satisfied moan.  His pace got even faster, and you had no clue how it was possible since he was already going very quick.  You felt a coil about to spring in your stomach.  You bucked your hips, chasing after your orgasm like it was a game of tag.  You were going to say his name again, but your very first orgasm had washed over you like a hurricane.  You saw stars as you closed your eyes.  When you opened your eyes, you saw Bucky smirking at you, looking very pleased.  

As Bucky watched you ride out your orgasm, he was in a trance.  He couldn't take his eyes off you.  He wanted to relive this moment forever, and if he could, he would die a happy man.  

"Ya like that?" you asked, playfully to get Bucky to refocus again.  He was unable to form words so he nodded at you.

"You have no clue what I want to do to you," you smirked.  You got up from underneath Bucky, and flipped him under you.  You sat up on the bed, and like a magnet, Bucky sat up with you on his lap.

"Oh yeah?  Care to enlighten me?" Bucky mocked, having his signature smirk on.  You smiled back at him, ready to explain yourself to him.

"Buck, you look like a fucking greek god, and I want you to fuck me like on too," you began, and already Bucky was mesmerized.  You continued to your starstruck boyfriend.  "You fill my mind with the dirtiest things, how you will destroy me in bed, how you will make me feel and everything else.  I wanna make you feel so good that you will only feel this way with me.  I wanna feel every muscle, every hair, everything you have.  I wanna drag my fingers through your hair and hear you moan, because it turns me on.  I don't want you to just fuck me.  I want you to fuck my brains out till I can't think straight.  I wanna have a hard time getting out of bed tomorrow.  I want you to make love to me."

Bucky took in every word and made a mental list for all the things he was going to do tonight, and he couldn't wait to get started.  Then, you suddenly got off his lap and in front of the bed.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Bucky asked.  He got his answer once your hands slipped underneath your shirt.  You got rid of the shirt and your PJ shorts, leaving you in a matching black, lacy bra and thong.  You purposely wore it because you were going to have sex with Bucky, win or lose, and you knew he loved you in black.  Bucky forgot how to breathe for a moment because you literally took his breath away.  

Bucky got up from the bed to remove his clothing as well.  He took off his shirt and his pants, and he was standing there only in his boxers.  You stared at him, taking in his appearance.  His muscles looked like they were carved by hand, chiseled to perfection.  Your eyes moved down his body, to his boxers.  Even though he wasn't naked, you could tell he was packing.  Bucky sat back down on the bed again and you straddled back onto his lap.

"Babygirl?" he asked.

"Buck," you said.

"Are we gonna do this?" Bucky asked, his confidence leaving his body.  He wanted to give you one last chance to say no, but seeing that you nodded, his confidence returned just as quickly as it left.  He pushed his lips into yours, but had one question on his mind that needed answering.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked.  You thought it over for a moment, and before he fucked you to the stars, you had two requests.  

The first was to ride his thigh.  Now that they were right in front of you, they looked so heavenly that not riding them would be a waste of time.  You also had a dream, one where you did ride his thigh, and it was euphoric, and you knew in real life that it would be even better.

The second one was for him to eat you out.  You knew he would probably already do that, since he looked starved and wanted to taste you.  But you had your doubts and wanted it so badly.

You got comfortable on his left thigh, and you started to move your hips back and forth.  You moaned at the new feeling and bit your lip so you wouldn't be too loud.  Bucky smirked back at you and kissed you again.

"You like the Thighs of betrayal?" he teased, only to get a nod from you.  You leaned back to kiss him again.  You only broke the kiss to get air, but resumed as soon as you caught your breath.  The only thing on your mind right now was how good his thigh was.  Bucky flexed his thigh muscles, adding a new sensation to your cunt.  He flexed them whenever you were about to move up again, and it made everything even better.  You felt the spring in your stomach about to explode again, so you speed your hips up.  Bucky took note and grabbed your hips to help you go faster.  

"Bucky, I’m gonna-" you moaned and weren't even able to finish again.  The orgasm hit you like a meteor.  You buried your head into Bucky's left shoulder, trying to control your panting.  

"How was that, doll?" Bucky smiled at you.  You fell back on to the bed again, leaving Bucky  on top of you again.  

"Great, now please just eat me," you begged, whimpering.  Bucky let out a satisfied laugh and processed to move down your body.  He finally made it to your core and froze again.  He stared at your core, unsure if you were ready.  You felt him breathing against your thighs and saw an unsure Bucky looking back at you.  You nodded back at him and he ripped off your black thong like a candy wrapper.

"Bucky!" you shrieked.  "Those were new!"

"I'll get you new ones." Bucky said, not even bothered.  He stared at your core again.  He knew he was going to have a feast, but eating you was only the appetizer.  The main course would come later.  But Bucky knew you were a virgin, so he had to take it slow at first, to get you used to the feeling.  He took one, big, slow lick of your core, and he was in love already.  You squirmed at the new feeling, but it wasn't uncomfortable in any way.  It felt so angelic.  

Bucky was licking you, eating you up like he was dying of thirst.  His body was parched and hungry for more.  Once he realized how good you tasted, he licked you faster, and applied more pressure with his tongue.  He flicked his tongue around your clit, making you moan even louder.  Bucky's beard was pricking your inner thighs, adding to the already amazing feeling.  To him, you tasted like holy water, and you were cleansing him of his many, many sins.  He dug his tongue into the lips of your clit, and you didn't realize how touch starved down there.  

You felt the pressure building in your hips for the third time already.  Bucky didn't stop, he kept going, faster and harder, and the fact that you were rolling your hips in response to chase your orgasm and the moans leaving you fueled his body to not stop even more.  Then Bucky took his left hand and placed inside you once again.  First it was one finger, and then two.  You gripped Bucky's hair even harder, earning a growl out of him.  His voice vibrated against your core, making you arch your back for more as Bucky took a breath.  Then, everything crashed on your.  Hard.  You came screaming Bucky's name like a chant.  

As your high calmed down, you opened your eyes.  Bucky's beard was glistening like a river with your juices.  He took his metal fingers out of you, which still had your wetness on them.  He took them in his mouth and closed his eyes.  He hummed in satisfaction and when he took them out of his mouth, he made a pop sound.  

"God, you taste amazing," Bucky sighed.  Those words alone could have made you cum again, but you were going to save it for when Bucky was inside you.  

"What's next doll?" Bucky asked, with a glint of interest in his eyes. 

"Fuck me," you sighed, wanting to feel Bucky, from the inside and out.  You barely finished speaking and Bucky pounced on you, waiting for this moment to come.  Bucky had a light ablaze in his eyes, full of lust and desire.  He pulled down his boxers to reveal your favorite body part of him, whether you will admit it or not.  You knew it was big, but holy shit, this was something from a whole other world.  

"Like what ya see, babygirl?" Bucky asked, seeing you gawk at his cock. 

"Yes, Sergeant" you smirked, biting your lip, just wanted him to be inside you.  Bucky didn't say a word as he put it in you.  He almosted pounded it inside, but at the last second, he remembered you were a virgin, so he put it in nice and slow, letting you get adjusted.  You gasped at how big he was inside you.  You could feel everything, every pulsing vein, every inch of skin.  You coated him like a glaze on a donut.  Bucky moaned when he felt how your walls squeezed around him.  

"Fuck, you feel so good James," you said, using his real name.  Bucky was going slow with you, until now.  Now, he pounded it into you like there was no tomorrow.  Like this was the only time he would fuck you.  You moaned his name, either James or Bucky, or Sergeant as he liked to be called, over and over again.  You pulled his hair, weaving your hands through it.  His hair felt like silk, and you wanted to feel every strand.  

Bucky was kissing your neck, shoulder, cheeks and everywhere else he could.  He moaned and said the nastiest things you've ever heard into your ear as he fucked you into oblivion.  Bucky kissed your next, leaving little hickeys you would be regretting tomorrow, even though Bucky would love them.  He kissed your plump lips repeatedly, only letting you breathe to moan his name, or whenever he needed to breathe himself.  

Bucky kept going faster and faster until he could feel something about to snap inside him.  You could feel the exact same thing happening inside you.  Bucky wanted to pull out, but the way your walls were clenching and milking around his cock told him to stay.

"Doll, i'm gonna pull out," Bucky said.

"Bucky… you don't have to," you admitted.  "I'm on the pill.  I was going to have sex with you if we won or lost, but I just wanted to mess with you."  Bucky smirked at the revelation.  He didn't care that you messed with him, he just cared about feeling you right now.

"You're such a tease, babygirl," Bucky groaned.  

You moaned again as the waves of your final orgasm of the night washed over you.  You moaned over and over again, arching your back into Bucky, to only fall on the bed to calm your nerves down.  

Bucky followed you soon after.  His normal rhythm was getting messy, and soon he cummed inside you.  He moaned your name and collapsed into your shoulder, biting it so he wouldn't be so loud.  He didn't fall on you like a rock, he lightly rested on you as his orgasm finished its course.  You both panted on each other for a couple of minutes before Bucky rolled next to you.  You faced each other, and you both laughed, realizing what you just did.

"Wow, that was-" you started,

"Amazing." Bucky finished.  You both chuckle again.  You moved your hand to Bucky's cheek, and you lightly caressed it.  Bucky moved his right hand to your cheek and up to your hair, letting his fingers get tangled in it.  

"I know I will never forget that," you smiled.

"I never will as well," Bucky grinned.  "Next time, I get to choose what we do."

"Wow," you chuckled.  "Why did you let me choose?"

"Well, tonight was your night.  Your first time and I wanted it to be special for you.  I wanted you to never forget it.  When you think of it, I want you to be happy.  I wanted to let you choose because I love you.  I'm with you till the end of the line, Y/N."

You blushed and smiled at the Winter Soldier.  You knew he only said, "I'm with you till the end of the line" to Steve, so for him to say it to you meant everything.  

"Of course I would remember this," you said.  "This was my first time!  And it was perfect because of you!  I will always be happy whenever this pops into my head.  And I love you to the moon and back.  I'm with you till the end of the line, James Barnes."  

Bucky smiled back at you and you leaned into him for a kiss.  You guys didn't make out again.  You just poured all of your emotions into it, and so did Bucky.  You and Bucky knew you would be with each till the end of the line, and you guys rested into each other's arms, getting some well deserved sleep.         

[ring-anon]

Princess: Albert Kleinman x Diana Murphy

A Dear Evan Hansen Parent AU fic

Warnings: Drunk girl tries to seduce a character, brief mention of a car accident, questionable treat of a person with a disability- not slurs or abuse, just kind of falling into the whole pity mentality if you know what I mean

A/N: My first fic ever! For those that are new to my blog, Diana is Connor’s daughter, Albert/ Al is Jared’s kid. I want to make this a short series, but don’t expect anything soon!

W/C: 2,075

When Diana was 12, she told Al she wanted to be a princess. Al raised an eyebrow at the idea. “Diana, you know this isn’t Disney, right?” Al argued.

“No no no, not like a magic princess. I mean I want to marry into royalty, like the British Monarchy or something.” She explained “If I marry into a family like that, I wouldn’t have political responsibilities or anything, but I could use my influence to change the world for the better, y’know?”

Al shook his head and exhaled deeply. “Okay, like what?”

“I dunno. Maybe start a few charities. Abolish shoulder-based dress code rules. Y’know, small stuff like that” she replied nonchalantly.

Diana was full of spontaneous ideas like that. But the thing is, Diana was the kind of person that could make those ideas come to life.

That’s why Albert Kleinman was severely in love with Diana Murphy.

“Al, I swear you are the only person that would skip a high school football game to read The Hobbit.”

Al groaned. “Dad, I’m really close to the end. I really REALLY would appreciate it very much if you left me alone right now.”

“…Scratch that. I know one other person. That person would be ME my senior year of high school” he remarked. Al planted his face into his book. “Hey bud, I wouldn’t care if you didn’t say last Wednesday that you were going with Diana Murphy. Did you cancel or-?”

“No, but she’ll understand if I can’t go” Al snapped.

Jared sighed. “Al… is this for the reason I think it is-“

“No! …Somewhat? Maybe?” Al closed the book and turned to look at Jared leaning against his door frame.

“Albert Kleinman, you are not going to keep pining and doing nothing about how you feel. It has been since the summer before junior year-“ he lectured.

“End of sophomore year, if you wanna be technical-“ Al added, sliding his hands through his hazelnut locks.

“That’s not better! It drives me and this whole family nuts. If Wiley wasn’t in college he’d be pulling his hair out. And frankly-“ Jared moved to sit on Al’s bed “It kills me to see you so-so- I don’t know, insecure about this? Because I know this seems like a huge conflict, but I promise you, it’s not” he assured. Al looked up at the ceiling, as if he was searching for a reply up there.

“Al- you’re a smart kid. And you two are best friends. Even if she says no, you two have a strong enough bond to make things work out okay in the end. Just- don’t let one challenge stand in the way of you being happy. I’ve let that happen before- believe me, it’s not a good idea.” Al breathed. His dad could be an asshole, but the worst part was that he was usually a correct asshole.

“Well…alright, I’ll go. I’ll text you when I’m there and leaving and such. Also-uh...thanks” Jared smiled and patted Al on the back.

As Jared left he shouted from the hall: “Remember, no matter what happens between you two don’t piss off Mr. Murphy! I learned MANY times firsthand that’s not a good idea!”

The marching band played the fight song. Some trombone was blasting much louder than they needed to be.

“Okay, Al, you’re the one with the musical brother, so… technically how good is our band?” Diana asked. Al shrugged, straining to avoid eye contact with her.

“They’re okay, but Wiley would probably say they were better when he was there. I’d say they look less crowded without his ego on the field.”

Diana scoffed. “You’re not wrong there…” she tapped him on the shoulder “…Hey, you ‘ight?” Al was first to turn his head towards her. Her honey-colored eyes shined under the lights, and her coffee brown locks framed her round face like a painting. Even worse: when Al realized how cold it was outside, he offered her an extra sweatshirt in his car. It was a little big, so Diana hid her hands in the sleeves. Fuck… she’s fucking adorable fuck, Al thought to himself. Diana waved her hands in front of his face. “Earth to Al, we have lost the signal, I repeat, earth to Al!” she teased.

“Huh-uh sorry Di” Al murmured.

Diana crossed her arms. “Al, what’s up? You’ve been off all week. Not coming to my house at all, paying zero attention in English- I repeat, ENGLISH, you damn bookworm- nearly blowing through an intersection, and you always keep your eyes on the road-“

Diana was prepared to keep going but Al interjected: “Okay, okay…you got me. I’m- well…” he figured it was time to be honest “it’s- uh- you.”

She tilted her head. “Me? I don’t understand.”

Al’s stomach turned. “Well, you know, its- I just- you know… it’s your ex.” He was kicking himself in his head at this point.

Diana tilted her head at an even stronger angle. “Um…what? I broke up with Layla months ago, and on good terms. She was going out of state and wanted to start fresh. How is that something to be worried about?”

“Nonono! I mean… do you think you’re gonna start dating again?” Al asked, immediately regretting his decision “Waitno that sounds bad sorry Imean um-“ he stammered.

Diana laughed dryly “Oooh I see. You think I need someone to be a knight in shining armor? Come on Al, you know better than that.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Al sighed. “I mean, I dunno, you seem like you’re interested in someone… maybe?” You are a garbage liar he criticized. He began to glare at his shoes, not wanting to say much.

“Is it that obvious?” Diana asked. Al immediately perked up his head. Diana sighed. “Well… you know Brenda Nox? She gestured to a brunette cheerleader waving her pom-poms. “She..she does things to me.” Diana crooned, followed by burying her face in her hands.

Al smiled softly and patted her on the back. “It’s okay. Unrequited love sucks…” Al swallowed harshly “…but you’ll make it work.”

“Thanks Al…but that’s not all. See, there’s another person I like too” She mumbled.

“Who?” Al questioned.

“I-I can’t even say. It’s really embarrassing, because I like them a lot, and I know they do too-” she confessed.  “-But I want to wait for them. Because I know they can say it. And frankly, I think they should, because they need to know that if they want something…well, they should go for it.”

“Couldn’t agree more. And I hope this person gets their act together.” Al declared, even though her words made his heart sink. Yet, even so, something about her words made Albert have a small, hopeful voice say two words in his head: It’s you.

Al went into concessions to go to the bathroom. He thought he knew the terrain, it was his own high school, but that damn step down before he got to the bleachers always tripped him up- literally. He fell on his knee, catching the attention of a few girls from the visiting school.

“Ohhh wowww are you okaaay?” one of them slurred. When they offered their hand to help him up, he could smell the beer from the ground. He decided to pass and get up himself. “Are you okaaay? You gotta be bllleediiing or somethiiin’” she supposed.

Al took a couple of in-place steps. He knew such a small fall couldn’t affect his legs, but he had a habit of checking. The one girl that offered to pick him up still looked concerned and invested in Al for reasons he didn’t understand. “Oh! I’m fine! I have prosthetics, see?” he lifted his pant leg, then turned to the bleachers.

“Woooah wait. How’d-how’d that happeeen?” she asked, taking a wobbly step closer to him.

Great, he thought. Just try and make this quick. He inhaled and began. “I was in a car accident when I was 5. I was sitting behind the shotgun seat, and the crash impacted there the most. No one was sitting in front of me but the chair was thrown back and crushed my legs. Now if you’ll excuse me I-“

“O-M-G that must have been aawfuuullll!” she squealed a little too loudly, making Al wince. “You poooor thing…well I gotta say-“ she purred, taking a step towards Al. “-you still look preeetty tough to me.” The girl placed an arm on his bicep, causing him to freeze. She was obviously too intoxicated to put together a coherent thought, but he needed to get back to Diana. “Saaay if you feel like it, you aaand your prrreeetty blue eyes could maaaybe drivvve meee hooome, aaand-“

“You know, you’re not supposed to have alcohol on school grounds. There are teachers swarming the place, so I’d suggest you leave.” Al had never been more relieved. Diana was standing behind the girl, arms crossed.

The girl looked at Diana, then back to Al. She scoffed. “Guess I’ll leave you with your giiirlfriiiend.” she sang as she walked away. Al beamed at Diana. He saw her cheeks were pink, probably from the cold.

“Cocoa?” Diana asked. Al gave her a cup. Her smile returned.

“Come on, we’re at 3rd quarter already. We’re losing, but there might be a turn-around, you never know!”

The car ride home was silent, but Al’s mind was screaming. The incident with the girl left Al with a lot of questions. Was she jealous? Or was she just helping you as a friend? Or…both? Frankly, Al didn’t care anymore. At this point he didn’t think he would get any answers to his questions.

“Woah…Al, roll down the windows!” Diana commanded.

Her words got him out of his own question-spiral, but they led to yet another question. “Why the flying fuck would I do that?” he lashed out.

“…to look at the stars. Sorry, Al I didn’t mean to annoy you. Gotta love a short attention span…” her voice trailed off.

Al felt his stomach drop to the lowest it had this evening. He was practically sinking in his seat. “No…Diana you’re good. That one was on me.” He admitted.

Then, he got inspired.

“You don’t have to be home for another hour right?” Al asked.

“Hour AND a half! I made a case to my dad and he caved” she beamed.

“Okay, we’re gonna make a detour then” he declared.

After fifteen minutes of Diana’s nagging, they finally got there: the field where Al’s dad took him and his siblings as a kid to go stargazing. The best part is that he didn’t even have to take the time to get out of the car. He let the sun roof down, and Diana’s mouth immediately went agape. The black sky was littered with stars.

“…Al, you are really something, you know?”

“I mean...I guess I try.” Al took a deep breath. “Diana, there’s- there’s something I wanted to talk to you about” he stammered. Somehow, in exhaustion and hope, he thought this was a good idea.

“Oh jeez, did I do something? Look Al I know I’m blunt but if you ever get offended by something I say you know you can always tell-”

Al’s face turned red “Nononono you didn’t do anything wrong, I just-”

“Al if it’s about the girl earlier, you looked like you needed help.” he was now highly confused. “…It wasn’t me trying to be a knight in shining armor or pity you, I was just acting like I do- y’know, trying to help others when actually-“

“You’re really something else.” Al whispered, his face becoming much closer to hers than it was before.”

“What…what are you…” Diana tried to speak, but she was soon interrupted by Al’s lips slamming fiercely into hers. Al thought Diana tasted vaguely like cherry chapstick, but mostly hot chocolate, and he figured she thought the same. That was the last thought he had before succumbing to full bliss. Al’s hands were shaky, but they eventually found their way to Diana’s waist. Diana ruffled her fingertips through Al’s messy locks. He didn’t even feel this. He also didn’t feel his face burning up at her touch, or any other sensation. All Al felt in that moment was Diana’s lips pressing into his.

 Al had never kissed a princess before. But once Diana left his car that night, after a silent-but-content drive home, he never wanted to stop.

[plotbunnyshipper]

Fundamental Cracks - Chapter 32

Fundamental Cracks: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325564

(Not sure why the word Chapter managed to make it’s way into my link - that’s the only change to this post since last night) Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325564/chapters/32569071

If you read the partial draft I posted this has that, plus more...total of just over 12k words because I was trying to cram too much in a chapter and even then ended up splitting it in two. So, this one is still in the past, skipping around right up to Ivy Town which will be the next chapter, then I’m back to storyline ‘present.’

Because it’s so long I’m not posting all of it on here - it’s on Ao3, link is above.

Thank you wonderful people who keep reading, it’s very appreciated.

A sudden wrenching movement tears me from sleep into the dark grogginess of way too early to be awake. “Wh-? What? What’s wrong..happ’nin’..Up, I’m up!”

There is more noise from the person and the bed as the jerky motion stills. A hard breath is followed by a rough, uncertain, “F-Felicity?”

Right. Oliver, not ‘the person.’ “Yeah.” I try blinking but it is still too dark to see where he went. Last night starts flickering into thought and I shake my head to try clearing the remaining fog from my mind. “What’s wrong?”

“I…Nothing, I just didn’t remember…”

Searching my hand over the sheet, even as I stretch I can’t feel him. Did he literally jump out of bed? “’S fine…” I rub my face into the pillow with a yawn, “It’s the first time we’ve slept together, you can freak out a little.”

His voice is immediate, defensive, and the bed shifts as he sits back down. “We’ve slept together and slept together before, it isn’t a first.”

Another large yawn steals my voice when I start to try and argue that last part. Oliver’s fingers lace with mine and I tug him back towards the center of the bed. “We’ve been asleep together when I sleep and you succumb to exhaustion, the closest we got was huddled up in the van or around the table. And after we slept together I dosed you wi-,“ Catching myself both in the fact that I’m still not exactly sure what I put in the wine that night, and the fact that if he’s startled by someone asleep with him in bed that maybe he woke unpleasantly like that a few times during his stretch with the League. That first time together for us was a serious, desperate last chance at a memory before what could have been the loss of each other, forever. Oliver is still learning how to let his guard back down, to relax and be happy, that place is a train of thought I don’t want to remind him of. “You were under the influence of…uh…something, and I was wide awake. So this definitely is another in our soon to be long list of firsts.”

Arms wrap around me, pulling me to rest on him, and I hear his heartbeat under my ear.

What I mean to say is something like, “We’re safe, you can relax…in a week it’ll feel weird to sleep alone.” What I actually say is muffled by his chest and yawns, but Oliver must get the gist, because I feel his breathing slowing to pace mine.

The next time I wake it is to the slow exploration of caressing hands. Oliver Queen, as it turns out, is quite the cuddler.

…

As we drink bitter coffee from the small machine on the bathroom counter, he asks, “You want to do anything today?”

“You,” I say with a terribly exaggerated wink.

He gives a startled laugh at my bluntness. “I think that can be easily arranged, but is there anything other than that?”

“Hmm…Take a bunch of naps unlike any weekday I remember. Let’s relax. Maybe play spin the bottle…box.” I point at the empty wine container.

“With just the two of us?”

“Guarantees I get to kiss the person I want to. Want to give it a whirl? We can order delivery for breakfast later.”

He does.

…

Between lazy touches, showers, and more amorous activities, we don’t get around to eating food until after noon when rumbling tummies demand use of those takeout menus, and the room phone…because I can go a damn week…another six days….five days ten hours without my phone.

…

It takes two full days into the trip, or more accurately two full days and one more blissful night after checking in, to finally decide to leave the room.

Glorious hours of exploring, learning, each other’s bodies, of making vague wish lists of plans that kept getting interrupted by smiles that in turn lead to lengthy, handsy, make-out sessions, which of course leads to taking turns seeing who can make the other forget what we were talking about.

Now, as I lay here I can honestly say that this is the most carefree I can remember being. “The black, green, and red sand beaches…and the lava at that volcano park…maybe splurge on a coffee farm tour…” Talking to myself to help remember, I nudge the wide sleeve of the robe out of the way and scribble down a couple more options for when we leave on the red-eye to Hawaii at the end of the week. Or is it still a red eye when you’re leaving at two in the morning? Those tickets were too awesome a price not to snag before leaving Starling. Either way we still have to get up to Seattle by Wednesday.

I scissor my calves back and forth, pumping them together once more before stretching my toes into the rumpled pile of blankets at the end of the bed. It’s only as his hands slide along my ribs, pushing the robe high to place a kiss over the center of my spine that I realize the shower is no longer going.

He’s trying to get another point in the tally of lost focus, but I’m still ahead by two…must hold my lead.

Trying to focus on a mental globe, avoiding teeny tiny islands, and mountains, and the entirety of China…and Russia, I keep thinking West. “After Hawaii, where do you want to go? Japan, Thailand…?” With loving caresses my hips are lifted and tugged back, inching my upper body along the bed until I’m in a kneeling bow instead of lazily sprawled on my belly. My face heats as a very intimate breath is huffed against my skin.

Focus! My voice hitchs but I press on, quickly writing in precise letters, ”Spain? France? Irelan-nnh!” The pen gouges the small notepad, “Oliver! That’s cheating!”

There is a throaty noise, like a hidden laugh before he shifts to lightly nip the back of my thigh, “Says the gorgeous distraction stretched across the bed.”

“I was trying to write a list of the places we both wanted to visit…there’s also plenty of cool stuff to see here in the States.”

“C’mere.” The pen and paper fall away as he lifts me, then rolls us so that I straddle him, leaving his hands spread across my hips and thighs. “Mmm, I think this is quickly becoming my favorite view of you.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I retort, grinning with a lean forward to brush our lips together, “but you need to focus if we’re going to make plans.”

“Let’s be spontaneous, pick and go on the same day when we’re ready to leave. This is about you and me, wherever we go that’s the only thing that matters.”

“Having the time for a plan and not forming one? Who are you and what have you done with my…” Oh. What do I call him? Boyfriend? That doesn’t sound quite right. Partner? Not right either. “-my Oliver?” It’s a lame finish, but he doesn’t call me out on it.

“New start. Just us, nothing we need to do except make that flight, nowhere we need to be, though I will say I’m hoping you won’t decide to wander away for a few more minutes.”

I sway my hips in a relaxed motion, it has an immediate effect. A few more minutes of wriggling and kisses until I can reach between us, shift and settle myself down oh-so-slowly as his hips push up into me. Both our breaths catch, Oliver stares like he’s memorizing every slowly scanned inch from my face down to where we’re joined. “Yeah,” it’s soft, and full of emotion, “definitely top of the list.”

His hand slides down, thumb making small circles in ways we’ve spent this stay perfecting, and it is so perfect that it makes me gasp, “Fuck!”

Oliver’s voice is teasing, “I am…unless you want me to stop.”

I laugh, “You just try to stop, I’ll…” the words morph into a gasped moan as he flexes particular muscle sets underneath me with a rather delightful result.

There are a few things that I’ve learned Oliver Queen loves in the hours that we’ve secluded ourselves in this quaint little room. One – he doesn’t mind eating takeout for every meal. Two – I knew the man was always up for a challenge, but the lengths he’ll go to excel rather than just succeed, that was a very pleasant education. And three – the he has a weakness for the sounds of sex. All the other senses involved work their magic, but when he closes his eyes and just loses himself in the actions…if I can work things so the bed squeaks a little louder, focus hard on verbalizing actual words rather than just sounds as I praise and beg and play, unless of course my mouth is occupied with other things…Oh how it works on him. One time, only one time so far, as I held his head in place so I could pant and moan directly into his ear what every thrust and motion he made felt like, goading and begging him on, drawing his attention to the wet rhythm of our bodies joining as it filled the room, being what should have been embarrassingly vocal as he managed to get me off just barely before he lost that carefully held control – I made this beautiful, amazingly strong man come so hard he blacked out for a few seconds. It. Was. Awesome!

There is deep heat to his voice, “You’ll what?”

With his hand playing like that as he helps me ride him I can’t keep focus on my train of thought, “What?”

His thumb moves only in the pauses between his words, “I just try to stop and you’ll…”

“I’ll tackle you and…and…God! Don’t stop or I’ll be very upset with you!”

Whatever he imagines my being very upset with him will or will not entail works, because he doesn’t stop, and keeps not stopping until we’re both exhausted again.

}]}———}>

No plans were made, and we drove until ending up in some small, touristy Pacific Northwestern fishing town, just in time for some seasonal festival, or celebration, or something. Oliver’s right, the only important thing is it’s us. Again we pick a place to stay at random, some motel that’s just a fifteen minute walk from what passes for downtown. The man at the desk recommended a local restaurant, and even was so kind as to make a reservation for us while we checked in.

…

I am quite sure we have thoroughly broken in the room. However if Oliver doesn't finish his shower we're going to miss our reservation and not make it out of here before the rest of the tourists flood the main stretch. As 'It's not authentic but these are some awesome  dumplings' as the delivery food was, we both need something a lot less fried and salty after five straight meals of the takeout that quickly arrived at our door. Besides my sensitive parts are getting a bit tender from this amount of action, no matter how wonderful, so a couple hours break is absolutely necessary.

“Hurry up!” I call towards the bathroom, “We’re going to be late!”

My dress is flirty, not that he doesn't seem to appreciate everything I have and haven't worn since we made the decision to go. But as I’m pulling clothes out for him that compliment the hints of lace peeking out near my knees, and fishing for a pair of socks at the bottom of the luggage, a familiar color flashes in the shuffle. What the...? 

I’m still standing there when he emerges, towel wrapped around his waist. Smile dropping to a look of confusion at my expression, “What’s wrong?”

I lift a fistful of dark fabric. “Are you planning on needing this for something?”

His words fumble, and his eyes dart down at the offending object then back up. “I- That- It’s a great jacket.”

“You already brought three jackets for any weather – hoodie, rain, and cold, why did you bring this one? Is Kevlar in your itinerary of escape?” The reinforced chest and back of this old prototype that was not flexible enough for easily using his arrows with is heavy enough to make my arm ache at this angle. Letting it drop to the floor with a faint thud I just give him a pointed stare.

His hands keep moving, rubbing nervously at his jaw, the back of his neck, the closely cropped hair that is still dark with water. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t notice packing it.”

“Is that your thing?” I ask point blank, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of my belly.

He blinks, eyes meeting mine, confusion clear, “My thing?”

A step away from the dark pile and my arms wrapping around myself provides no comfort. “The danger, the life and death, do you have to have the adrenaline rush to be truly satisfied?”

“Felicity, I packed it by mistake.” He takes slow steps forward, like I'm dangerous. I'm not dangerous, I'm worried, and the distraction of just a towel blocking him from being nude is not scattering those thoughts as it would have even a day ago, not over something like this.

“That’s not a ‘No,’ Oliver. Is it your addiction, a not-so-secret kink?”

His arms wrap loosely around me, following as I try to turn my head away, “My ‘addiction,' my 'kink,’“ his forehead nudges mine, “is sharing time and experiences with the woman I love.” Eyes stare into mine as his lips hover, just shy of kissing me. “Promise…Pinkie promise.”

I can't help but give a concerned laugh at that, pecking at his lips before pushing him away with a pointed look at the clothes. “A real sicko at heart.”

It takes him mere seconds to pull on each piece, “How about we grab dinner, since you’re worried about that too, then discuss this?”

A glance at the clock that says we have ten minutes to make the long walk, “I’m not going to drop it.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

We arrive ten minutes late, and I’m a bit breathless from jogging close-ish to his slowed pace on the well worn path in these sandals, but they held the table even with the line out the door because the motel owner is a friend of the owner.

…

I present a reasonable case, a set of logical points. The jacket is one not so baby-step back into that. The same thing that left so many marks on the skin I had myself all over for the past few days.

Only distracted by the thoughts of that skin on skin for a moment, Oliver counters with it being an accident; it’s obviously one of the older prototypes, it must have been nestled into a different jacket or sweater.

Accident. Coincidence. Part of the perfection of our escape from reality cracks, splinters off. I don’t know if I can believe him on this.

He must someone see that in my face, he apologizes, and apologizes again. Our fingers lace together. “I promise you, I have no plans to take up my old job in a new location. If you want me to throw it away I’ll trash it as soon as we get back to the room.”

I sigh, “That jacket is the most expensive one you own now.” All the ways this could play out try to make a traffic jam in my brain, “Don’t trash it, that’s just wasteful. But promise me you won’t go searching for Kevlar situations to put yourself in.”

“I promise.” He raises my hand and kisses my knuckles, “Cross my heart.”

A small tug and I pull it out of his grip, dragging it over his shirt, making a wide X over that spot before letting my palm rest. His heartbeat’s soft rhythm feels right. “Keep that promise. I love that heart.”

Our drinks arrive before Oliver can say anything, but he nods as I retreat back to my side of the table. We lightly toast on it. The wine is good, the food, in its low oil, low salt, and bright flavors is better.

…

“Mmm.” My tongue darts out to catch the crumbs that broke apart on my lips. It is only then that I notice Oliver’s intense stare. Following up with my fingers to make sure I didn't miss any since my napkin disappeared, I see him lick his lips at the motion eyes never leaving my mouth. "Oliver...?"

"Mmmhmm?" He blinks, and reflexively takes a large swallow of wine.

“We have made up for lost time and more since we left, you can’t still be that distracted by the newness. If anything you should be dehydrated.” It’s only been a couple hours, even for the honeymoon style start of dating, skipping most of the awkward getting-to-know-you’s, this is a lot of sex. And for me to think it’s a lot of sex, it takes a LOT of sex.

“Felicity, I finally get a chance to show you how much I love you, all of you. My brain hasn’t quite got the memo that it’s not going to disappear in a blink like when we tried dating last time.”

His words send warm tingles through my blood.  Running my fingertip along the rim of my empty water and then half full wine glass, I bite on my lip to dim my smile just a bit, "How about we just finish the wine, skip dessert, and take a walk?"

"A walk?"

Mirroring a stare at his lips, reaching across the table to lace my fingers with his, I nod.

"Let me pay and we can just take the bottle with us." He glances around for the waiter, reaching for his wallet.

Since they still have to print out the bill, instead my hand tips the rest of the wine into our glasses, taking them both back to full. I take the time to savor mine, then a few sips of his, giving extra attention to any traces on my lips, trying to give just a little payback for the many those times he did all that shirtless training. When the total finally arrives Oliver barely glances at it while watching me steal another taste from his glass. Grabbing a few bills before shoving his wallet back in his pocket he covers our meal plus a tip.

It was an unexpected surprise that he mentioned during our drive, extra money for the trip, cash from his account tied the sale of a few of his remaining shares of Queen Consolidated to Ray in his takeover.

The wineglass is gently pried from my hands and raised to his lips. Draining, too controlled to be gulping but at the same speed, his drink down as he stands. Our hands join, within a few steps he’s gently pulling me along. We weave through dark buildings, laughing, making playful little comments. Oliver spins around when I can’t keep up through a tight alleyway, crushing his lips to mine desperately, grabbing my hips and hoisting me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. Rubbing myself against him like an animal in heat gives me a deliciously buffered friction, I lean in for another kiss at the same time he does and our noses bump hard enough to have me drawing back with a near yelp.

“You ok?” A hand immediately caresses the side of my face.

Rubbing my cheek into that touch, nipping at the thumb that grazes the corner of my lips I give a small nod. “Just startled me more than anything. You?” The look he gives me is full of sarcasm and incredulity that he’d notice something so small as a bumped nose. The buzz is making a wonderful looseness to my muscles. “Fine, macho man, why don't you kiss it and make it better?”

He gives the ghost of a low laugh, rocking himself against me, “I’d rather kiss something else to make you feel better.”

Oh...well..."That sounds delightful."

His hips move and he groans, “It's gonna be a long walk back to the hotel.”

I mock whisper, “Who said anything about the hotel?” I may not be an exhibitionist but there’s plenty of hidden places that I remember from our dash here, and it’s only gotten darker since then. “It’s just us out here, everyone else is waiting for the fireworks to start. I’m not doing anything exposed, but if you find us a bit of privacy…”

We twist through another couple alleys, then end up in an expanse of coastline. We have to slow when I yank on his arm to catch myself from another rock my toes trip over. Oliver’s arm moves under my shoulders and he lifts so it feels like I’m floating. Just another reminder of how strong he is. It earns him another emphatic kiss. When my lips leave his, he opens his eyes, sweeping them over the stretch around us as the first of the night’s fireworks sizzles up and bursts a rainbow of burning chemicals into the sky. “That gazebo over there… looks like there’s sunken seating. Nobody is around, no one will see a thing?”

Looking at the option one minute away instead of at least half an hour from us with the darkness, and stumbling, and touches…probably even longer, another check for anyone else comes up empty and I nod.

He takes the lead, stepping down and helping keep me steady as I follow. Another set of fireworks illuminates the simple seating, a concrete circle with a fire pit in the center, but it’s private and right here, which makes it better than the distant bed. I stay standing, since it leaves me at the perfect height. Oliver drags his hands up my thighs, my fingers over his to guide him to my hips. His thumbs loop in the fabric, slowly inching down my panties as he settles to kneel.

The discarded barrier gets shoved into my purse and I plant my feet in a comfortable stance. Oliver stares up at me, eyes not leaving mine as I hitch my dress up to my hips. His head dips. “I used to fantasize about doing this, tasting you, and now that I’ve had you���those fantasies didn’t come anywhere close to how good reality is.” He kisses the inside of my leg, then the other. “I can’t remember how long it’s been since reality was so much better than a dream.”

My core clenches at the words and the breeze that tickles my exposed skin. "Well you'll almost never find me turning that down...,” I let the smile sound in my voice, “for future reference and everything."

"Good to know," is breathed against my skin, and without another word he leans forward, watching me watch him. A slow, firm, lick parts me open. Shoulders push my legs wider, he goes for another long lick, without breaking eye contact. It lets me see his pupils blow wide, hiding the bright blue with darkness. The hot lingering kiss over my clit that follows makes me gasp.

Finally he looks away, down, stares intensely enough at those intimate parts of me that I flush, and start trying to squirm my legs closed. Oliver doesn't let me, diving into his oral exploration without further hesitation. I cry out a moan, dragging my fingertips against his scalp.

He rumbles a noise of approval, the actual words lost against my flesh. I give half formed requests – “Over...Right th-there!”

He is good, really really good, as proven over the past few days, but not a mind reader. So it is an even better experience for all involved if I continue help teaching him what I like best, knowing he'll reciprocate the knowledge share. Just like we agreed. My mouth waters at the thought of our positions reversed, him standing above me, biting his lip with a moan, hips twitching in an effort not to move, gripping my hair as I...

He calls me out on my distraction, “Come back here.” The fantasy breaks apart as his head dips and he pulls my leg so it is over his shoulder and my weight sinks forward against his face. I only keep from falling by that gorgeous face and my other shaky leg. He doesn't falter, tongue plunging in that tiny bit further as he nuzzles his nose against the most sensitive part of me. He is not quiet and takes my guidance without hesitation, leaving me wanton in my tremulous ride of his face.

Staring straight into the sky, fireworks paint the night with the same intensity as the jolts of pleasure Oliver is coaxing from my body. I'm on the cusp of bliss when loud barking invades our privacy. Instinct has me straightening, shoving his head away as he makes a startled sound. The front of my dress is down before I can even figure out where the noise is coming from.

There is a whine of disappointment from him that goes silent as I hiss, “Someone’s walking their dog nearby!” Oliver’s fingers slide from my knee up near the bare skin his mouth was just buried against as he looks around. I can see the shine of me spread across his face and swipe it away with my palm.

With regret visible he grabs that hand, voice suggestive, “We could wait until they move on?”

“No.” The sounds of people talking and more excited dog noises are getting closer and a large set of fireworks burst, brightening the sky and the no longer secluded seating.

He kisses the center of my palm, licking where his lips part, murmuring, “You were close, I could feel you shaking.”

I hiss, closing my fist so he can’t lick again, “Shut it!”

One lumbering furry bundle of energy comes charging over, barking. I let out a startled shriek, legs squeezing tightly together and my hands block the second overly enthusiastic face from it’s interest in getting up in my business; my missing-a-layer-of-clothing business. The other interested party, Oliver, puts himself between me and the dog before it can touch me, just as a second and third hound come loping over to join in with excited barks, all three animals sniffing and bumping up against him.

Are there no leash laws here? I’m embarrassed by my overreaction, making shooing sounds and motions to try and keep us free of puppy kisses and sneezes when a voice, the owner, calls from maybe a hundred yards away. The tenseness that filled Oliver’s frame at my shriek does not leave him, even as it’s obvious the animals aren’t a danger. A sharp whistle and a command have the dogs sprinting back.

“Sorry, didn’t expect anyone out in these parts,” the man shouts, “They wouldn’t hurt a fly, just forgetting the rules. They get a mite spooked with the fireworks going on so I let them run, they know better than to bother strangers.”

Oliver makes some sort of dismissive response that it’s fine, his face contradicts the words but it’s not like the stranger can see. Our walk back is slow and quiet, and we make it back to the hotel after the fireworks taper off.

A quick rinse off and he tries to go back down on me but it’s not quite the same. The desire is there but he’s not relaxed and we end up settling down into soft touches when our enthusiasm fades. It’s barely past nine when we decide to call it an early night so we’ll be ready for the early flight.

I try to sneak a quick glance at my phone, email withdrawal hitting hard but it’s powered itself off. The battery must have died somewhere on our trip up the coast and because it was in silent mode there was no buzz or chime to warn me. “Hey, toss me your phone, I’ll plug them both in so they’re ready before we leave tomorrow.” Oliver gives me a look that lets me know I’m not fooling him. “I’ll leave them off, just charging!” Mildly chagrined, I do, and get one last kiss before he pulls the blanket up and cradles us together.

The circumstances that shaped this unbreakable fragile man are things I had no control over. I know that I don't know everything. It’s obvious that he shared some, not all, like anyone would do to protect themselves but damned if I'm not going to show him he is safe and wanted with me. Even after these past few years of working together, he’s still so set on being this fortress with all the emotion trapped away inside, but I’ve seen the shift from stoic to that almost startled confusion as I hugged him or John had offered reassurance. The hint of a smile quickly hidden away again that shows the real pleasure in the connection, before he reminds himself that he thinks he isn’t worth it, can’t have it, or whatever other nonsense goes through his brain and steals his happiness.

He has this fortress of protection in his mind, steel gates, stone blocks, moats, mazes, distractions and I'm going to get him to lower the drawbridge and let me in if I have to tiptoe through hell to get there. So I don’t point out that he still doesn’t fully let his guard down. That since that first night he’s made a blanket barrier between us when he thinks I’ve drifted off, or that he doesn’t fall asleep before I do to try and make sure it stays in place.

…

Plane! We’re going to miss the plane!

The thought has my eyes flying open, only to be met with the glow of 10:24 on the clock. Not going to miss the plane…Can’t miss the plane…If I just use my phone as a clock it won’t count, and I can add like five alarms so we are up in time. Stretching my fingers over to the nightstand I snag it, covering the speaker while powering it on.

The thought spills out of me as a yelp, “What the-?!”

Oliver jerks upwards from where he’s snuggled into the pillow-blanket barrier beside me, words slurred as he fights the thick comforter off for his freedom, “Wha’s wrr’gg?” His eyes are fighting to widen while blinking against the glaring brightness of my phone.

“37 messages!”

His eyes flit from me to the phone in my hand, as if trying to figure out how the messages could pose a danger to me. Another look around the room and me again before apparently deciding it’s safe, he wraps an arm around my waist, scoots closer, and spoons against my back, “Too early.”

“I need to set some-“

He nudges the small rectangle back over onto the nightstand and out of my hand. “Not been a week. You set up the wakeup call with the reservation.”

“No, I set the ‘quit molesting your gorgeous self because we need to get out the door’ call. It’s not a private jet, we need to be there early for check in, security, boarding-“

Oliver’s hips press forward as his hand snakes down, “Molesting me? Why wouldn’t I be the one molesting you?” A low whisper, “Was having a very good dream about molesting you.”

“Because you do a better job at distracting me from staying on task...” My words turn into a moan as his fingers nudge along then, just barely, inside me.

“Mmm…you’re still slick.” I press on his hand and that pair of fingertips move deeper. A much more awake part of his body presses against my backside, his hips rocking to settle us flush as he teases his lips against my ear. “You take me off plan all the time.”

Rolling his body over mine, it is fast, messy, still half asleep he continues to do a good job at distracting me, and my phone remains a forgotten task.

[nieuwsuitdejungle]

Blog Post Three

Sunday 26th of November

Statistics:

Number of layers of upper body clothing I wear on average: 6

Number of hot soy chocolate milks made for me this week: 4

Number of times I had to show my passport to cross the channel: 5

Number of things that passed the MOT but really shouldn’t have: countless

Number of nights that it hasn’t rained in the past week: 0

Now that we’ve got that first on the ground blog post over, I’ve settled down a bit more.

Let’s start with some domestic updates. A very generous and kind lady did a fundraiser for us last week to buy the team some treats. This means that we now have our cabin cupboards filled with pasta, biscuits, plant based milk and hazelnut flavoured instant coffee. On top of that we all got our own mugs! Which means we don’t have to share the two chipped ones we had left among the six of us anymore and we can all have hot soy chocolate milks at the same time instead of taking turns. Besides that update, my range of tasks and responsibilities has been expanded: I am now the car(s) and warehouse key keeper, and the official tea/sugar ziplocked-bag-maker. Lastly, I have adopted some steel-toed orphan hiking boots from the warehouse that we are unable to distribute since they are far too heavy. This means I won’t be needing a gym membership. It’s leg day every day for the upcoming weeks.

Over the past two weeks I’ve caught myself saying rather strange things. That would, in any other setting not make sense. For example, here it’s really normal to say “I just had the best shower, it was candle lit because the light didn’t work but the lock on the door actually did work and there was warm water!”. Or “Sure kitten, just come into the toilet with me, no problem, who needs personal space anyway”. Or “Let’s take part in this competition at the supermarket where you can win 100 Euros so we can buy more baby wipes”.

Back to the actual work though. This week I was part of team administration. We made schedules for food distribution, clothing distribution, and when and where the different medical organisations are on the ground. We made loads of phone calls to establish the current situation and arranged a meeting to discuss a new project we will be starting, about which I will tell you next time.

Monday I had a rough distribution day. It was my first time doing distribution in the jungle in Calais. This jungle is much bigger than the one in Grande-Synthe. Usually we distribute for the women in Calais two times a week, but now we are in a trial phase where we go three times a week. With the changing conditions in the camp (this week it has rained every single night and the temperatures have dropped even more) we want to check up on our women more often.

However, this meant that we were there on a day people were not expecting us plus we had to park in a different spot than usual. This meant that we weren’t fully able to create a safe and quiet space for our ladies in the jungle since a couple of men came over to our van to see what was going on and then shouted to the others that were standing in line for food that there was a clothing distribution going on. In no time our van was surrounded by men who were cold, wet and frustrated.

Usually when men come up to our van we kindly ask them to leave the safe space we try to create for women. Almost always this works perfectly fine and is respected. This time, however, the situation felt more grim, to the point where we decided to close our van and felt forced stop the distribution.

It is at times like this when I feel most helpless, unable to provide this vulnerable group of women who are living outside under harsh conditions a few moments in a safe space, a sliver of humanity. In the end we did manage to spend some time with the women whilst they were eating food, something they always insist on sharing with us, they literally feed us by spooning food into our mouths.

My days here are filled with extreme lows and extreme highs, something we often share in the evenings as I’ve previously mentioned. It’s a way of rewinding and making sure everyone is getting things off their chest. Since I’ve now heard more of them, I’m starting to see a pattern.

The lows usually have one thing in common: we all feel as if we are powerless and helpless.  As a member of the team said this morning, you actually feel more helpless being here then when you were back at home. With the weather worsening every day, the camp conditions become more unbearable for the refugees. There is only so much we can do and we have to say no to so many people on a daily basis. There is increased pressure from the police as well as a lack of resources with numerous new refugees arriving in the jungle every day. The people we are trying to help are so vulnerable and we often feel as if we can’t do enough. I woke up last night because the wind was howling and rain was pouring down heavily. I quickly closed my window to prevent my sleeping bag from getting wet. It’s small things like this that make you realize that the refugees have no windows to close, no protection from the rain or the cold.

The highs on the other end also have something in common. They usually consist of unexpected moments of humanity or normality. Whether it is playing Kurdish music from our car and dancing together with the women or someone asking after getting inside the cabin from a long day on the ground “would any of you ladies like to have a hot beverage”, it’s the people around me who create the highs. It is this sense of community that keeps us going amongst all the despair and uncertainty. Every day I meet new heroes without capes. A Belgian women who drives up to the jungle every five days to hand out clean socks to the refugees and takes the dirty ones home to wash so that they can be reused. The numerous citizens of Calais who host one or two young refugees in their own homes to provide a sense of home. Amazing youngsters that work so hard at the warehouses every day to make the work on the ground possible. It is this sense of solidarity that touches everyone here and softens us.

After rough days like this Monday, it is so nice to go home, talk about it and munch on delicious food together. This day especially: we had delicious homemade falafel! Everyone helped making it by chopping onions, crushing the chickpeas by hand, making salad and other tasty toppings.

On Wednesday I went on a little one day across-the-border-adventure. Our trusty Henrietta needed to be MOT-ed. Yes that’s right, we are the proud owners of a fourth hand 1993 Honda Civic EJ1, a car  featured in Fast and the Furious, a pretty badass ride. We had to go to Dover to get it checked since she is a British lady, and she did so well! The day started off a bit unlucky since we missed the boat and Henrietta was slightly suicidal at first with driving on the left hand side of the road (we nearly took her the wrong way round the roundabout).  But from there everything went really smoothly. We left our baby at the garage and did some on-the-road administration. We carry around all your office essentials, including stamps, folders, laptops, a full size printer and most important: sweet potato crisps. When we returned at the garage it turned out there were only a few things that needed to be fixed, which could be done right on the spot. We were over the moon that they didn’t say anything about the wing mirror we carefully taped back into place that very morning, the fact that the tyres are worn or the rear spoiler that literally fell off five minutes after receiving the MOT certificate (don’t worry, I’ll super glue it back on, we clearly don’t want that to lose any of those aerodynamics).

We returned late in the evening at the cabin with sticky toffee pudding for the girls that had been on the ground all day. And let me tell you, surprising people with sticky toffee pudding is always a good idea. Especially when you heat it up in the microwave, simply hand everyone a spoon and eat it straight out of the tin.

Unlike Monday, the Friday distribution in Calais went really well. The atmosphere was really relaxed. This was partially because a group of Italian musicians came to the Jungle to play music for the refugees. Everyone gathered in a circle around the band and joined in with the music by singing, clapping and dancing. It is astonishing to see how music can bring people together, how it can lift the mood and take peoples' minds off of the misery they are in, if only for a moment. In this way we managed to keep the area around our van free from men (which is always a plus), drink tea and share meals.

On Saturday we all had a day off. Me and two other girls of the team went on a little sightseeing trip to Boulogne sur Mer. Which indeed does feel a bit odd, to spend a day being a tourist whilst you know there are people who need your help. But it is something that we consider as necessary to keep on doing this. In order to take care of other people, it is important to take care of yourself. So we drove up there, walked on the beach, ate crepes and of course the topic of all our chats was still the refugees. We drove back in the evening and I was once again reminded of the horrors of the situation here. As you drive down the highway in Northern France, you are very likely to come across a sign saying: ‘slow down; risk of pedestrians or obstacles on the road’. The more desperate people get, the bigger risks they will take, and this involves crossing the highway by foot. It scares me a bit how I am now at a point where I don’t find this an odd sign at all anymore. How this has become part of my reality now.

On Sunday we had four families returning from accommodation centres to the Jungle in Grande Synthe. They said that they had been told that their month in the accommodation centre was up and that they would have to apply for asylum in France if they wished to stay longer. Because applying for asylum in France was not an option for them, they returned to the Jungle where we tried to provide them with blankets, sleeping bags and tents to get through the night. In the afternoon we did some arts and crafts with their kids. Whilst we sat on cushions in one of the parking lots in the Jungle we made animals on paper plates out of glitter, feathers and stickers, whilst eating biscuits, drinking tea and giggling. Some of the moms joined us for some colouring, probably in an attempt to get their minds off of the situation their families are in.

At the end of the day one of the men helped us gather all our stuff and put it back in the car. In somewhat broken English he told us about his life back in Kurdistan, where he was a carpenter building houses and how in his free time he did gymnastics. He showed me videos of him doing backflips and challenged us to do push-ups with him. I managed to improve my Kurdish language skills by learning the words for ‘tall’ and ‘short’ (something he has quizzed me on every day ever since).

Getting to know people on a personal level and creating trust is a vital aspect of being in the Jungle every day; it is the least we can do. Not seeing the situation through the news that tells you about numbers and facts, but through the eyes of actual people, with their own personal stories; that is what this is about. It feels intimate and I feel honoured to be let in like that by the people here, by people who want to share their stories, that want to be heard, and trust me enough to do that.

You can’t ask me what it is like to volunteer here, what the situation is like, it’s too much to explain. Just as it is impossible for me to understand what it is like to actually live in the Jungle. But you can ask me to share my stories, their stories, to share moments and experiences.

My next post will be on men, treasure hunting in the warehouse, horrible evictions in the Jungle and a random stranger paying for my drink.

[kipaia]

Long Post Full of Suck and Also Awesomeness

So I’ve been a bit overwhelmed the last few weeks because of Life and also The Suck and things have been incredibly Not Great. I’ve had like a solid week of level 9 on my scale for mental health (where 10 is that someone needs to call 911 for me) so it’s been pretty scary.

When I get this bad, I struggle a lot with feeling like the feelings I have are all in my head, are all my own fault, that I’m a burden on literally anyone and that no one in their right mind (platonically or otherwise) could possibly care about me in any real way. Rationally, I know that’s not true, but it’s really hard to fight constantly against your own brain when physically you’re exhausted and mentally you’re exhausted and you’re constantly in contact with the thing that started your Suck in the first place. So I have been losing my internal battle against The Suck.

Here’s where things stood as of last week; I was waking up at 3:15am and getting ready for work so that I could be out the door by 3:45am so I’d be on time to work, since work is a 45 minute drive from my house. My road kills my bike’s tires, so no bike, and I haven’t had a car since November. It’s cold. Right now, it’s also very wet and often below freezing and I’ve been doing this for four months, ever since my mother took back the car I’ve been driving for five years to give it to my sister for her 16th birthday. I would work from 4:30 to noon-ish, walk an hour to school, have my classes, walk an hour to an hour-fifteen to the high school to coach swim practice, and then usually I’d be able to get a ride home from there. It has been Exhausting.

Over winter break, I also experienced a mental health crash. This is not unusual for me at this time of year, since I have prolonged forced exposure to my abuser and this year was especially bad since I was a fucking idiot who decided I wanted to try to repair things with them. Thought it was going ok until Christmas; turns out they were playing hook/line/sinker, and I sunk like a rock. Self-loathing for putting myself in that position on top of anger that they are still shitty on top of much general brokenness because they went full-tilt back into mental/emotional abuse once I was beginning to feel safe again. 

It’s been almost two months since then, and I still haven’t been able to climb out of this stupid hole I ended up in and it’s really frustrating on so many levels to want to be happy and to want to be ok and to want to be a functional person and to just . . . not be any of those things. And knowing all the ways I suck at being a person makes me feel like less of a person and it’s just not a very good cycle to be stuck in, especially when you know you’re in the cycle, you can see it, you just can’t seem to get out of it. 

So I don’t feel like much of a person, and I don’t feel like anyone can possibly care for me.

Fast forward to this week; one of my best friends in the world is getting ready to move to LA for a two year school program. As weird as this might sound, I’m not really bothered that he’s left because he’s one of those friends where we’ve known each other for twelve years, and he knows me probably better than almost anyone on this planet, and we’ve gone years without really seeing each other before and when we do finally see each other again we’re still just there and we get each other and it’s just amazing and I love him dearly.

Anyway. So Monday night we got the chance to hang out for the first time in a few years, and up until this time I hadn’t really had the chance to tell him all of the stuff that went on with my abuser or what’s going on in my head, but because he knows me so well he pried and managed to get me to basically word vomit everything that’s gone on and the whole time I’m terrified that him finally knowing what a train wreck I am will make him never talk to me again, that he’ll go to LA and think “wow glad I’m away from that Mess,” so I’m scared shitless while having this conversation and I end up telling him about my name change which not a lot of people around here know about still and he just-

First off, he listened to absolutely everything I said and (me being me) I cried, and while I cried he didn’t try to touch me or hold me cause that makes me overwhelmed and I tend to shut down when that happens so I was able to calm myself down so I could keep talking and he just sat and listened patiently until I was done. Once I was done, he asked if he could hug me and since I was done I was ok with it, and so he held me and I cried like a baby and he just held me and it was So Nice and then he asked if I wanted him to call me Alyx instead of my other name, and I said he didn’t have to since he knew me by my other name and it was ok if using that name was easier but he just gave me A Look and asked again if I wanted him to call me Alyx and I started crying again and was like “I’d actually really love it if you called me Alyx” and he was like “Ok Alyx!” and was like totally cool with it and also didn’t let me get away with hiding behind what he wanted or what someone else would prefer cause that’s literally always been a problem of mine, I don’t know how to and am not generally comfortable with telling people what I want because I feel that that’s really selfish but he was having none of my shit and it was Amazing.

So after I calmed down he drove me home and then Wednesday is the day he leaves. Now, I work for his mother who runs a daycare and since the whole family was going with him to drop him off in LA, I’m taking over the daycare for the afternoon so they can fly out. So I get there, he’s there, he comes over and we have our whole goodbye hug and I’m just like “don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry” cause there’s kids everywhere and they’ll all wanna know what’s wrong and I don’t want to deal with that and so I somehow manage to keep it together when all the sudden he’s like “Crap I forgot something!” and goes running back to his room while I’m laughing cause they’re supposed to leave in like ten minutes and he was supposed to have all his stuff packed like three days ago when he comes back and he looks at me very serious and I’m like “Shit somethings wrong what’s happening” and he just stops.

Keep in mind this is someone who can basically be qualified to say he knows me better than I know me sometimes, and he just looks at me super serious and holds out a fucking set of car keys.

So I’m floored, because he can’t actually be doing what I think he’s doing, and he’s like “So this is for you to borrow for the weekend -” and I’m like ok that makes way more sense until he finishes and is all “-and then when mom and dad get back on Monday they’ll talk to you about the title transfer and everything.” 

Cue complete bawling. Complete, can’t-hold-it-in-because-shit-like-this-doesn’t-happen-to-people-like-me bawling. And so he’s hugging me again, I’m crying so hard I can’t breathe, the kids are all asking why I’m crying which kinda makes me cry more until I���m like “Cause my friend’s an idiot” which his mom hears and so she cracks up and meanwhile I’m holding the car keys and shaking and crying and my friend is holding me and he’s telling me how he just wanted me to know how loved I am and that there’s people in the world who cherish me and that he knows I haven’t really felt that way and so he’s basically not giving me the option to let my head get in the way of what is fact. And I’m like he just gave me his car and people don’t fucking do that for other people, like maybe for family but I’m not family and he knows exactly how much of a Mess I am and he still did it????? 

I can’t even handle this. It’s been like four days and I’m still completely overwhelmed. I keep feeling like people as amazing as him don’t just do stuff like that for people as shitty as me, but then I look outside and there sits the damn car and I’ve got the keys on my lanyard and then I start crying again and so like, physically, I won’t be as tired, because not only will I not be walking everywhere, but swim season also ended yesterday, and mentally I’m short-circuiting a bit because there is Evidence that for some reason there are people who must still like me even though I’m A Mess, and not even just “like” me cause this is not just a “like” kind of thing, this is like a “love” kinda thing and me and him are and always have been and most likely always will be a completely platonic love, but this is totally still a “love” thing cause HE JUST GAVE ME HIS CAR. THE FUCKING SHIT, BRO.

I don’t even know how this is going to affect my current mental health things because my brain still hasn’t figured out how to function since this bombshell happened, but I have actually laughed out loud to things I’ve seen online the last day or so, which I haven’t done in months. I have a car. Now that I have a car, I can move out of the house I’ve been living in which has not been helping my mental state at all. I can get a new job if I want, I can go to fucking Chipotle if I want (cause it’s in the next town over T.T ) and I don’t have to worry about rain of freezing temperatures or the fact that I rolled my ankle like three weeks ago and it wasn’t getting better cause I was walking so much.

I don’t want to get too excited past how overwhelmed I already am, but I’m pretty certain this is one of those things that that literally changed my life in such a way that I will probably tell this story to anyone who’ll listen for the rest of my life as a time where things got Better. And, it’ll be super funny if my friend gets famous someday (his thing in LA? Crazy big acting/singing/dancing thing that feeds Juilliard and spits out famous peeps all the damn time and he’s ridiculously talented and works hard and has a heart of literal gold) cause then I can point at super famous person and tell this story and people might think I’m Cool ^.^

[dominavontana]

Wed Aug 15 #sexed @sugartheshop Sensual Bondage with Pervertibles

Perveritble: any common often domestic item that can be used for a different purpose other than that originally intended by the manufacturer in a style that is part of a BDSM or kinky play scene

Below are three separate blog posts because ain't no body got time for that...separate posting bullshit.

I just want to go play in the woods.

1. Sugar classes, when sex workers lose clients to death, and the amazing Domme I met

2. The post I promised you yesterday

3. Summary of the successful summer tour (and whatever shit I decide to write about along the way)

First up...SUGAR

Below is the post I promised you yesterday.

 But before we get to that...please check out this  bondageworkshop I’m teaching on August 15 in Baltimore at www.sugartheshop.com. Tickets are $25 and the classis 90 minutes, from 630 to 8. I always hang around til close because it’s fun and the teaching space is super gorgeous. The stores great too :) and they share the same space…

 On a more personal/professional note, I’ve read about the grieving process particular to sex workers who loose long term clients. And now I am both proud and saddened to say I find myself for the first time at this place in my peculiar career. Both clients are regulars and souls that I genuinely enjoy, cleints who respect me and men I believe are a blessing to those who know and work with them, and especially those that may love them or call them family. Good people. I’m not sure what this chapter of my journey is going to have in store but I’m prepared to face it without fear or reservation, because as I see it? My job is to make every moment feel like life its self until the last moment the slave can retire to the great Master of us all, that quaking moment between here and forever.  

 Last Wednesday after my class at Sugar I attended the wake for the untimely end of the Baltimore Eagle and bumped into an amazing Domme with the verbal gymnastics of the best stand up can offer and she was dressed like a pin up doll, veil and all. And I wondered, why can’t we all be like that? When I discussed my style with her, professionally speaking, her replay was,

 “Oh honey, you work so hard, that’s why they have to pay you for it.”

 Such a siren with the sweet tongue was she that still I do not know if I am flattered, or being scolded.

 I liked her. It’s a lonely sport, topping the top 1%.

 One. More, Eclipse. This week. Then you can all breath but my ruler is gonna play hopscotch across my sky for the NEXT two months so I’m just gonna keep riding this ride and asking for patience because GD if I couldn’t slap a bitch on a day like today #PMSRealness B r e e e a t h e

 See you on the 15th.

2. Yesterday's blog post is about domestic violence, the kind I have lived with most of my life until now, so I'm finally ready. Let's all take a deep breath.

DV stands for a lot for a lot of things. Not just my initials, Domina (D) Vontana (V), but also...domestic violence. This post is a coming out story. This is my emotional psychological and mental #metoo moment. I’ll never be capable of sharing the stories of my multiple sexual assaults. I’m too much of a scorpio for that shit. Last week I picked up a new pickup truck and it’s been glorious. I’ve started rapidly checking things off my to do list at the farm that have lingered for months, years even. And then finally today the clouds part, the sky clears and FOR FUCKING ONCE there is sun in the sky on a Saturday. If you live in the Mid Atlantic you appreciate what I know. For those of you who don’t let me say this - I arrived back from Asia the last week of April. I arrived at the farm the first week of May. It has rained. Every. God. Damn. Day. Since minus maaaybe...a total of 2 weeks. Today is one of those days that makes up those two weeks and so I took a nice long drive through the country in my new truck. And that’s when I realized...I haven't been yelled at by a man in a year and a half. That is a record in my recent history. And by recent I mean the past decade, at least. Because strong women get abused too. Honestly, I’ve often wondered if my abusers didn’t take more pleasure in hurting me BECAUSE I was a dominatrix. My father was a Pisces and a preacher. My mother was a Sagittarius and a musician. If you know your astrology your cringing right now, and probably laughing. Both my parents were trauma survivors. Especially my father. He was as queer as his daughter here and just as charismatic and beautiful. My mother was the codependent to his addict and as the eldest child and a daughter I was expected to perform the role of caretaker to both. And it sucked. It sucked every single day. There wasn’t a god damn day that went by that there wasn’t some potentially humiliating and or completely unjust situation to deal with while the world outside the window carried on like inside everything in my life wasn’t completely absurd, completely violent and completely religious, all at the same time. Mind fuck is not even the word. Oh and the cherry on this shit cake is that the context for all of this is rural, white America where everyone knows your name and your business. The only place to hide is literally, the corn fields. My parents did their best. I know this now. And it was not that great. I accept this now. And that is why for most of my adult life I have loved men who returned my love with vicious emotional and often violent attacks. Some of these men I am still friends with and they may read this and be upset at me and that’s a price I’m willing to pay because the very reason I haven't been screamed at in the past year and a half is because finally, finally...I am putting myself first everywhere in my life, not just in the dungeon. It is a choice who’s time had come and a choice that has made me more available to the people in my life, not less. If I hadn’t had the figurative and literal space of the dungeon to practice speaking up for myself and EXPECTING to be heard I would most certainly be less fulfilled than I am today. And today I am filled with all the things that make life worth living - love, friendship, passion, creativity, community and family. And I’m almost positive that the only reasons I’m coming up with this blog post now, at this moment, rather than any other I’ve contemplated revealing the truth of my struggle is probably the intense PMS I’ve experienced during the full lunar eclipse on my moon. So bare with me, babes. And what the actual fuck is my part in all of this? I stayed. I believed the lie that obligated me to fix these men. I honestly thought I could heal someone, all I lacked was resources. Then I found myself in a situation with limitless resources and it didn’t make a damn bit of difference - the addict stayed sick for a very long time. Long enough for me to finally skip country and fulfill my expat fantasies and also to finally quit my codependent habit. Now I am in control of my life in and out of the dungeon and no longer suffer fools in any area of my life. And for that every broken bone, every stint in the ER, every bruise and every scar is worth it because I am free at last. Psst. Come closer. I have another secret to tell you. The final reveal. Remember when they said it was scary out there in the real world and so maybe we closed our heart chakras to feel safe? Turns out that is a red flag for predators that sends them knocking at our doors. It was only after I took the chance and did the work that I found myself starting to attract the kind of people and experiences I had always longed for that’s why recently when I felt my heart trying to close again I reminded myself that THAT was NOT the path to security. My brother (biological): “Once a woman realizes she doesn’t need you? It’s over.” 3. Summer Tour Summary

This note is to tell you Mistress had a wonderful summer tour and will be taking the next week off to do even more fun stuff, the old fashion way - without social media.

 Three a.m. and the gypsy finally rests, alone, on her bed. It’s been ten days and four states. At least 1,000 miles.

 I.am. so. Blessed.

 Several years ago I was up for a full ride to UNC so I moved to Chapel Hill. Thus began a period of restoration. My work is very demanding and there are few opportunities for training or mentorship. I left my vanilla life behind when I went pro out of necessity, not choice. This past week I visited the very people who gave me back my vanilla life.

 It wasn’t until this week when I stepped back into the wooded paradise I called home for two years that I felt like I was finally back from Asia. That yard is where the Japanese Ume plum blossom first appeared in January and I didn’t even know what I was smelling, but it was fantastic. Fast forward four months it’s April and I was stepping off a plane in Tokyo with just a backpack. My dream to change my life yet again started in that yard, and it ended there. Last week.

 Some people know what they want. I know what I don’t want. The path to perfection for me is a process of elimination, not acquisition. Turns out, I want less of myself and more of others. I want more experiences and less things. I want love. And beauty. And art. And laughter. And dialogue. And play. And I’m an introvert. So quality not quantity.

 I’ve spent much of my life alone, in one form or another, often literally alone. I admit that part of this lifestyle is self sustaining for me, if not self serving. But all good things must come to an end. Now that I’m back my gypsy spirit has managed to work out a reasonable circuit: Baltimore, DC, rest at the farm, repeat.

 So I’ll see you there (www.sugartheshop.com)

[therosewoods]

you've been pretty quiet about the whole ptv thing and the drama with mike. what are your thoughts about it? you used to be a big ptv blog, right?

lol yes is definitely used to be a ptv blog!! 

ok so i’ve been pretty vocal about this on my twitter and my private instagram account (as well as in my real life lol) but you’re right i haven’t really said anything here. i don’t really have a reason for that, i just haven’t had the motivation to write out a big post since my opinion is very much out there on other platforms. that being said, i will throw in my thoughts now that i’ve been asked about them:

okay, so like you mentioned, i was a HUGE ptv fan. i still very much am, but it used to be my entire life. these guys are the reason i’m in the scene at all and they were my first ever concert. i’ve been listening to them for nearly five years (seventh grade to junior in high school). i’ve seen them live ten times and i’ve saved every piece of confetti and every ticket i’ve ever gotten from going to their shows. i even have tony’s pick (which i picked up from the ground and stuck IN MY MOUTH so i wouldn’t lose it until i got to my hotel room) so, huge fan right? right. 

just before all of this happened, i saw them at the same place, same festival i saw them at for the first time, over four years ago. i was on top of the world bc this show reminded me again how much of a ride or die i am for these guys. with all of the shit about gross band guys coming out, i though about how lucky i was that this would never happen to my band (lol). like, i’ve always thought that i was lucky this way, bc when all of that shit with front porch step back in the day, ptv were my guys and they’d never done anything wrong up to that point so i was okay. 

then this stuff with mike happened. i saw someone vague tweet about it, so i was confused and i had to dig through twitter to find the original post. when i read it, i felt sick. at first i completely doubted it, but as i kept re-reading it and going through the thread, the more i started to believe it. i didn’t want to think that someone i loved for so long could be so irresponsible, but it kind of added up to me. 

my school has late starts on wednesday, so instead of going in at 8 like i usually do, i went in at like 9:30. and i was so sick and upset that i ended up going home early bc i just… couldn’t handle it. like… one of my favorite people was now completely different to me and i couldn’t deal. 

now, one thing that really bothered me about this whole thing was how long it took them (or anyone else!*) to make a statement. I completely understand that it does take time for people to release statements, but in my opinion this took too long. i mean i can somewhat understand because it was around thanksgiving but it REALLY rubbed me the wrong way when they were posting about their black friday sales while keeping the whole situation hush, hush. it may have been their team doing that for them, but it looked really shady and like they were brushing this under the rug so as not to interfere with the most profitable time of the year.

*and what i mean by “or anyone else!” is that Alternative Press, Kerrang!, and Rock Sound did not say ANYTHING about this situation until AFTER the statement came out. with other bands in the scene, they write articles almost immediately and update their readers as more information comes out, and then once a band finally releases a statement, they end with that. but they didn’t do anything with pierce the veil. the only websites i found talking about this was tiny underground music blogs that gain no traction and that i had to DIG to find. again, this makes it look shady and like they’re deliberately sweeping things under the rug. i don’t want to outright accuse them of doing that or anything, but it definitely looked bad.

anyway, i worried myself sick waiting for their statement. i checked literally every day and it was the biggest thing on my mind. i found out that they released a statement when someone on twitter posted about it. now, (and again this is gonna be over thinking things, blah, blah) but it does bother me a LITTLE that they only posted this on their facebook (and have since deleted the post), as a lot of people don’t use facebook. it would have reached more people if they had posted a link to the statement on their twitter and released the statement in full on their tumblr page (also pls feel free to correct me if they did post it on their tumblr and have since deleted it! i just can’t find it rn so maybe they did? idk.) because again, it makes it look like they are hiding this and deliberately making sure that it reaches less people. the only way i found the post was going to the Alt. Press twitter and scrolling down to find the like they posted. (which i have now noticed seems to be missing from their website…)

now, i don’t really have many issues with the statement, other than the fact that the way they worded it makes it sound like mike could be allowed back in the band. “So, I have decided to take a break and step away from my position in the band..,” and, “While away from the band…” these two phrases make it sound like he will come back, which, in my opinion, is a horrible move and could seriously jeopardize their careers. 

i mean, honestly, how many parents are going to allow their kids to go to these shows now that they know the drummer has been accused of sleeping with a minor? there is seriously no fucking way my parents are letting me go to their shows, and these are two people who have loved ptv along with me for years. it just doesn’t seem appropriate to have him back when the majority of their fanbase is the age the girl he “dated” was, or younger. also, doing so would completely change the dynamic of their tours. if he’s let back in, you can kiss meet and greets and fans pulled up on stage for Bulletproof, goodbye. those things won’t happen or be acceptable anymore. 

mike is one person of a four-piece band, and he is not the lead singer. yes, it is difficult because he is vic’s brother, and he is and incredible drummer, but he is replaceable. it would be ridiculous to allow him to ruin their careers, and if he truly cares about the other three in the band, he will permanently step away from the band so as not to tarnish their reputations as well. i sincerely doubt that at this point in time he needs the money he would get from being an active member in the band, and i’m sure that they would be more than capable of working out some sort of deal where he can still make a living off of his contributions to the band.

now, for all of the shitty comments that people give in order to justify his actions:

1) i do not care if the age of consent in [INSERT RANDOM COUNTRY/STATE NAME HERE] is lower than 18. in california, where this situation took place, the legal age of consent IS 18. Maybe you disagree with that, but the law in this state clearly states that it is illegal for an adult to be engaged in sexual acts with a minor. also, the way people are raised in different countries can be completely different to how they’re raised in a place like california. not to mention that even if this is the case, it still doesn’t automatically make it right for an adult to date a teenager.

2) stop bringing up the fact that vic and danielle have a ten year age difference. yes, they met when she was 18, but she was of age, and they weren’t in a committed relationship until she was twenty. this argument is void. next,

3) why would this girl be bringing this to light solely because she was jealous of him and was upset that their relationship had ended? wouldn’t she have done that as soon as they had ended things? also, how would she have known that they’d be at the height of their career right now? did you truly believe that 10 years ago, she thought to herself, “in 10 years i’ll get back at him for breaking my heart because that’s when they’re be really big” ??? like, they would have broken up around the time that their second album was coming out, and they were nowhere near the level of fame they are now. how was she to know that they’d be bigger than just some little local band who were barely making a name for themselves? come on.

4) you can support the band without supporting mike. they are not less of a band without him and they should not be reduced to having to live with his actions haunting them. supporting the other members of the band doesn’t automatically mean that you condone Mike’s actions. but it also doesn’t make you less any of a fan to not want him back. 

5) i dont care if you were 14 when you started dating your 20 year old boyfriend or whatever and so you think this was okay. it’s not and i’m sorry that your adult partner thinks it’s cool to date kids.

6) no, i do not believe that he is some evil, horrible, monster of a person. but i still don’t want him back in the band. he did something incredibly irresponsible and damaging some time ago, and these are his consequences. i believe that what he did was wrong, and i do not want him back. there is not changing my mind on this and if he is allowed back, i can no longer support the band. it breaks my heart to even think about that, but that is the way it has to be for me. here’s to hoping that it doesn’t have to come to that, but only time will tell. 

[sugarfreeplz]

Epic Progress Update

Hi, blog thing, it’s been a minute.

I don’t feel bad for my (uh, has it been a year already?) inconsistent posting, I’m pretty sure I write this blog just for me, but I want to start using it in a slightly different way so it’s imperative that I create a new baseline post.

Since the last few posts, I’ve made some massive progress resulting from massive shifts in my life. I’m 135.6lbs (which kind of blows my mind just writing that), I’ve lost 32.4lbs since i started this journey in August 2015.  Despite the immensely slow progress, I’m thrilled. I can’t wait to see what I look like in another 10lbs... which may not be something I get to see until November, at this rate, but whatever. ;)

I want to start posting my recipes and ideas and stuff that I’ve been doing so that I don’t forget how much work it took to get here... so I never let myself lose control again. After the jump is a summary of my journey over the last year. tldr: I full on embraced keto (seems inevitable when I think on it, considering the title of this blog) and I’m doing Olympic weight lifting 3-4x weekly plus 30 min cardio every morning. I’m not a morning person but now I’m in love with morning workouts. Seriously, I don’t think I could have predicted this. WTF, fam. 

Weight chart, July to December 2016 - feat. slowest moving weight-loss on planet earth

July 2016: Went to Paris for 10 days, ate whatever I wanted and walked everywhere. Felt no guilt around food, didn’t binge eat, just paid attention to my body and got tons of exercise. All the chocolate croissants were mine and I loved every second. Weight at end of July: 153.4lbs / 69.6kg

August 2016: Went home to Utah for two weeks, chaotic road trip and visiting of family. Drove back to LA and my grandmother died the same week. Flew back to Utah. Grief eating, that’s a thing. Kept it in check and resolved I was going to take care of myself so that complications from back surgery never had to be something I’d worry about dying from. Motivation that had been slacking for a few months got restored. Weight at end of August: 151.4lbs / 68.7kg

September 2016: Things were OK, weight loss was still in this slow downward trend. Desperate to mix it up, I start researching different ways of eating. Two-thirds of the way through the month I decided to try keto. (Check out r/keto if you want more info.) Easing into it was a good idea, starting with Low Carb High Fat and then slowly radically changing my eating. I loved keto because I was already about the sugar-free life, but I had some habits and food I had trouble transitioning away from. I probably could have lost weight faster initially had I fully embraced keto but I am just too stubborn. I started tracking on these spreadsheets: TDEE Calculator (found on Reddit), Weight Loss Tracker (made this one myself). Weight at end of September: 150lbs / 68kg

October 2016: Started going harder towards a lower-carb lifestyle. Weight loss stalled out again. Frustration, despite having broken into the upper 140s for the first time in 3 years. At this point I had pretty much stopped lifting 3x weekly. I just went to the gym for cardio and an occasional dumbbell workout. This is probably what contributed to the plateau. Weight at end of October: 149.4 lbs / 67.8kg

November 2016: Went to Utah again. Broke through another plateau to a new low weight of 148lbs, tried Crossfit mostly for Olympic lifts and got addicted. Found the top box in Los Angeles and joined after I returned to LA / after an epic Thanksgiving where I baked the most delicious keto-ish cheesecake on earth. The scale still wasn’t moving like I wanted it to... I’d say a rate of the slowest molasses in the universe. Got another dexascan: 34% Bodyfat is a win, but lost bone density. Resolved to lift more. Weight at end of November: 148lbs / 67.1kg

December 2016: Decided Crossfit is second fiddle to weightlifting. Resigned myself to the fact that I really should only expect to lose 1-1.5lb per month according to the scale. At this point I was starting to believe that I was some freak of nature who can’t abide by the laws of thermodynamics. Maybe I was really probably just holding onto a lot of water weight, but I still kind of think I might be a freak. I was weighing and tracking all my food obsessively. I was back in the gym 3-4x week. Scale still in the parallel molasses universe. Just can’t win with it.

Then the holidays happened, I traveled to Utah again, and I just kind of let myself live. I stayed pretty keto, all things considered. I know that if I am overly restrictive when it looks like other people are enjoying themselves I will only fail in the long run, so I went over my calories, drank the champagne, and didn’t feel bad at all. Despite the dgaf attitude in the last two weeks of the month, I saw the same amount of loss relative to other months and still hitting new lows (in the middle of many fluctuations). Weight at end of December: 146.2lbs / 66.3kg

End of 2016 Progress: 21.8lbs lost since August 2015

Weight chart, January to Present 2017 - finally picking up speed

January 2017: I started the year with a new, clear goal in mind: workout 5x week, no matter what. This was an awesome way to start the year after returning to LA and has really set me up for the success I’m seeing now. It was nice to have a goal not centered around weightloss. I wanted to hit 145lbs by my birthday but it just didn’t happen. I got really close, though. I also decided to move away from the beach and into a more positive environment. Did a lot of skiing, visited Mammoth, almost met Alfie Allen (Theon Greyjoy), got snowed in. Weight at end of January: 145.6lbs / 66kg

February 2017: Month of moving and shaking and shifting of things. More skiing. Fell off the workout bandwagon because of all the moving; pretty sure I only averaged 4 workouts per week, but was moving my body a lot almost every day. Went to a black tie industry awards for World of Dance. Felt super gorgeous and sexy. Indulged mindfully and dropped 2lbs, biggest amount lost in one month since May 2016. Weight at end of February: 143.6lbs / 65.1kg

March 2017: Fully moved into my new place and really happy about it. Dexascan is showing progress at 32% Bodyfat and improved bone density. Boyfriend’s cat died, which was incredibly sad. Some grief eating, but under control. Two ski trips: one to Utah, another to Mammoth. Definitely starting to look different and clothes aren’t fitting the same anymore, Boyfriend is even noticing (and enjoying ;) ) the changes. End of March I decide to go for broke and start doing Cardio in the mornings (every day, no excuses) and Weightlifting at night (min 3-4x weekly), to be carried into April. Weight at end of March: 142lbs / 64.2kg

April 2017: I order new clothes to the tune of low low prices from my best friend, Amazon. These are huge hit with the boyfriend. It’s a rush. I’m feeling more comfortable in my skin for the first time in 10 years. I ate at maintenance for the whole month because I was mentally exhausted caring about staying around 1200-1300 calories. Despite knowing I was eating maintenance, I was still frustrated with the slow weightloss. Roommate declares I’ve lost “like 20lbs” since I moved in whenever I complain about the weight coming off slowly.  Before the end of the month, I begin taking on intermittent fasting. I can’t make it through a month without traveling so, Boyfriend and I go north to his family’s hometown for Easter. I work out every single day in April (morning cardio, at least) and then drive to Utah (again) at the end of the month.  Weight at end of April: 141.2lbs / 64kg

May 2017: The month starts me off with a really wonderful surprise whoosh down to my new low, 137lbs. I haven’t broke through the 130s since high school (10 years ago). Such a rush and I literally feel on top of the world, even though it’s really just weightloss and I should calm the fuck down, I feel like I’m finally conquering my demons of binge eating by embracing intermittent fasting and paying closer attention to self-care on a daily basis. I’m getting noticed, flirted with, and complimented on the street. I love (but also don’t know what to do with) the attention. I get some inappropriate attention, too, which definitely boggles my mind. Boyfriend and I drive back to LA after the first week of May. I broke my workout streak of 49 days when my best friend came into town the next week and was kind of OK about it. Back on track by the end of the month but no more lovely whoosh... more riding the frustration train to weight fluctuation land. At least I look pretty good. Weight at end of May: 137lbs / 62.1kg

June 2017 (so far): I decided to take weightlifting to the next level and get into the gym 4x week minimum alongside cardio 5-7x week. Time to add some weight to the key weightlifting movements and stop relying on Squats and Deadlifts to get me heavy PRs. I’m still perfecting technique because my upper body is atrociously inferior in strength to my lower body, but there’s slow (as usual) progress. I tried the egg fast plateau killer last week and it did break through my plateau to a new low of 135.6 (!!!). Huge win for me. I haven’t weighed this since I was 17. Going to do a 3 day egg fast at least 2x monthly to keep the water weight down, since that seems to be the evil behind all the weight-fluctuation. Starting second round tomorrow and have another Dexascan on Wednesday. Excited to see the results!

2017 Progress: 32.4 lbs since August 2015

The next post I want to make is going to be about what the round trip journey back to feeling like myself has been about, why it happened, and what I might have done differently (thought the journey I took was perfect for me, there’s always ways to improve). I’m going to post some recipes and pictures and bullshit like that in the mean time, but might as well put all this stuff banging around in my head somewhere.