#breathe me: a tale of two farts

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

In honor of the coming Tinlightenment, I give you the Greatest Sketch of All Time:

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Bonding with the Enemy - Chapter 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Town Hall

Darren remembered growing up thinking that being mate bonded was some sort of arranged marriage. The way everyone had described it to him as a kid, the moment you knew who it was, you essentially were destined to be together the rest of your lives.

There were even old tales claiming that it was the Moon Goddess who was picking out your perfect mate for you and whatever the goddess said, goes. Fortunately Darren had the common sense to do his own research instead of listen to what a bunch of old farts said.

What he found was a more logical explanation.

According to this research, mate bonding is nothing more than your instincts telling you that your 'destined partner' had perfectly matching genes to yours and that you two would make great kids some day, which is why you had to be within the range of each others pheromones before the bonding even happened.

He much preferred this explanation over some supernatural mother-in-law telling people who to marry. Regardless of whether it was the Moon Goddess or genes, Darren's ultimate conclusion was that the bond was more of a suggestion, not an order like many packs treated it.

It was extremely rare but you could potentially meet another perfect match one day. The problem was that werewolves preferred to stick with the first option because to them, the bond was sacred and not to be questioned. 

Plus being mate-less was considered an absolute horrid fate. Before Sophie had a chance to grab him, Darren turned tail and booked it back down the hall.

He was sure Jasper felt the bond as well but he wouldn't know who it was without seeing him first. Annoying as it was, Darren's instincts were screaming at him to run away just as much as they were screaming for him to turn around and face the music.

"Wait," his aunt called behind him but he was outside and on his way to the parking lot already.

Pausing to take a breath, he eventually let her catch up.

"What the hell was that?"

He glowered up at her.

"Jasper was there," he explained.

"Oh..." was all she said as understanding dawned on her.

"Okay, look, I know you two have a terrible track record but we're not here for Jasper, we're here to help find the missing kids. We just need to focus on getting Alpha Liam's attention first. If we have to work with Jasper to make that happen though, then I can do the talking... But just so you know, Jasper's changed quite a lot since you left."

Darren quirked an eyebrow, disbelieving.

"I doubt that."

"Darren, please. This is serious. We need to talk to the Alpha right away and I don't think the receptionist is going to let me barrel my way to his office a second time."

He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the car to think. He couldn't go back in there.

He had no idea how Jasper would react once he found out they were bonded but knowing the pack's mentality, everyone would insist they hold the bond just as sacred as their ancestors did. It didn't matter that they were both males or that they hated each other.

He knew exactly what everyone would say. That the bond would change their hearts or some sort of Disney Fairy-tale bull crap.

Darren didn't believe any of that. He would not be forced to work for any Alpha, he would not be forced to join the pack and he absolutely refused to be bonded with Jasper.

He had to do something to hide it.

"What?"

"We need to go back to the house. I left it there," he explained.

"Can't we get it afterwards?"

Darren shook his head.

"No. I need it now. It... helps with my powers," he lied.

His aunt stared at him for another moment before sighing and getting in. They drove back to the house and he flew inside to his backpack that was still sitting near the front door.

Digging through his clothes, he found it. Clasping the band around his neck, he felt instant relief wash over him as that burning urge subsided.

What he wore was essentially a dog collar made of thin black leather with some other unknown material woven in. It had no engravings, no chain links, no hoops.

Just the metal clasp on the back. It was called a Rogues Collar and he had gotten it from his uncle Don before returning to the pack.

According to his uncle, the collar was used by rogues to help protect them against Alpha Commands. It also helped hide their presence from other werewolves.

Since it was something his uncle had given to him at the last second, he had forgotten about it until now. Mostly because it looked like something a BDSM Slave would wear and thus stuffed it in his bag as soon as his uncle was out of view.

With this, he could face Jasper and the guy would be completely unaware of who he was bonded with... hopefully.

"That's it?" Sophie asked as she entered the house.

She didn't seem phased at all, despite the collar's supposed effect on him. Perhaps it only hid certain parts of his presence? Darren turned.

"It's better if you don't ask."

The woman raised her eyebrows but didn't say a word as they returned to the car and drove back to the Town Hall where there was an obvious change in everyone's demeanor.

Walking in, the people they passed were whispering among themselves.

"I heard he circled the building three times before the Alpha retrieved him."

"I wonder what it was about?"

Darren was curious what happened after they left. Jasper didn't so much as look at Darren in the split second that he was standing in view when the bond happened but did he actually come running after him when he left? The girl behind the reception counter glared at Sophie.

"Gonna wait in line this time?" she all but growled in annoyance.

Sophie put on her most apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that. I was in a hurry."

The hall that they had barreled their way into last time was now blocked by a rather large looking Beta with a permanent scowl etched onto his face, which was probably why Sophie actually bothered to speak to the receptionist this time.

"Well I'm sorry but you're going to have to schedule a meeting like EVERYONE ELSE."

The receptionist slapped down a piece of paper. Sophie gave a quick grin and made sure to maintain eye contact as she snatched it up.

"Will do."

Then she turned and handed it to Darren.

"Fill this out," she ordered.

"Why me?"

"Because I drove."

Darren rolled his eyes and sat down in one of the waiting chairs as he filled out all the information. His aunt took out her phone and started talking with someone as he did so.

There was quite a bit of information to fill out and just when he was about done he noticed a shadow loom over him. Glancing up, he all but snorted at the sight of Jasper staring him down curiously.

"I haven't seen you around here before," the man spoke in a husky voice, deeper than Darren remembered.

It reverberated in his head, nearly striking a chord but not quite hitting. The collar seemed to be working.

It took a moment for him to calm down and realize his old bully didn't recognize him. He probably approached Darren thinking he was from another pack, which annoyed him to no ends.

How the hell do you make someone's life a living nightmare, then go and forget what they looked like?

Gritting his teeth, he glared up at him. Jasper looked surprised at the open hostility the smaller man was showing.

"Fuck off Jasper," he snarled angrily.

"I'm here to see the REAL Alpha."

It was a pathetic display of rebellion but Darren felt he was entitled to at least one outburst after all the years of bullying he had endured. Jasper didn't quite take a step back but he was clearly blown away by his audacity.

He then squinted his eyes as though to get a clearer look at the man in front of him.

"Do... I know you?"

Having his words brushed aside like that stung Darren's ego but he didn't have anything more to say. Darren huffed through his nose, then pointedly turned in his seat so his back was facing the man as he finished filling out the paperwork.

Then he felt a slap on the back of his head.

"OUCH. YOU MOTHER FUCKER..."

He swallowed his words when he realized it was his aunt who smacked him, not Jasper.

"Sophie?"

Sophie had a look on her face that said 'Stop blowing our chance' but what she said out loud was...

"I see you've bumped into Mr. Trotter."

That damn grin returned to Jasper's face as soon as he veered his attention to his aunt and he shook her hand enthusiastically.

"Sophie. I was told you came in quite a hurry earlier."

"Yes, Darren and I really need to speak to Alpha Liam today," she explained, vaguely gesturing where Darren was sitting.

"Darren?" Jasper paused once he recognized the name.

"Darren Nelson?"

Instead of replying, Darren shot up from his chair and stomped towards the receptionist where he slammed down the paperwork and began trudging out the front door. He wasn't sure if he could do this after all.

Right now, he wanted to yell nothing but obscenities at the man, which would definitely ruin their chances of being included in the investigation.

Then as he passed, Sophie grabbed his sleeve and gave him a pleading look that rooted him to the spot. Once she was sure he wouldn't try to leave again, she returned her focus to schmoozing Jasper.

"That's right. You two went to school together," Sophie chirped with fake enthusiasm.

"Anyways, is there any chance we could talk with Alpha Liam?"

"Why do you want to see Alpha Liam? You can talk to me if it's urgent," the man offered with a cool grin.

"Nothing will ever be urgent enough to make us want to talk to you," Darren muttered under his breath, then squawked in pain as Sophie jammed her heel into his foot, causing him to yelp silently as he all but doubled over.

"He means we would love to speak in private," Sophie began, then lowered her voice as she continued...

"It's about the missing children."

A few heads in the waiting room perked up and Jasper's eyes immediately widened. Glancing around, he covered his mouth nervously and leaned in.

"Let's talk in the other room."

He indicated towards the hall that they had trudged passed earlier and she nodded excitedly, then grabbed Darren by the shirt collar and dragged him behind her.

Darren's arms flew out as he fought to maintain his balance. Once they were fully in the room, Jasper closed the doors and turned his full attention on them.

"Did you see something?" Jasper asked gravely.

Sophie turned towards Darren, suddenly losing her spark in front of a pack superior. After a moment she swallowed her nerves and pushed on.

"No. I wanted to talk about helping with the investigation," she replied. "Darren here can help. I called him over specifically so he could."

The man sighed dejectedly and pinched the bridge of his nose. Apparently that wasn't what he was hoping she'd say.

"Ms. Dodson," he switched to a more formal tone.

"You're part of that volunteer group that has been searching the woods, right?"

Sophie seemed caught off guard by the question.

"Yes, that's correct."

"Look, Ms. Dodson, I know you're trying to help but right now it's been decided that it would be best to keep as few people in on this investigation as possible," he explained with an apologetic look on his face.

Sophie didn't like where this was going and puffed out her chest indignantly.

"How is that going to help? It's been half a year and not a single child has been found! If anything, we need to include MORE people."

"Please calm down," Jasper held his hands up.

"We just think that the less information that circulates, the better. For all we know, the person responsible is also following this case closely and might be using it to their advantage."

"That's absurd," she burst out, then realized what she had done and quickly stood down.

"I'm sorry."

"I understand your frustration but that's what the police have decided, as well as Alpha Liam and myself," Jasper explained.

Darren was ready to snap. For some reason he was extra wound up and needed to vent his frustration. It was irritating that the man hadn't given Sophie a chance to explain why she brought an outsider in to help.

Sure he didn't want to reveal his powers but considering what was on the line here, it was absurd that he wouldn't even ask why she though Darren could help of all people.

It was like he was automatically dismissing him as useless. Just as he opened his mouth to argue, the door burst open and in walked Alpha Liam himself.

A sudden pressure filled the room. Even with the collar, he could sense Liam's Alpha presence, which meant his aunt was probably sensing it tenfold.

The man had short grey hair slicked back on his head. He had a square jaw with salt and pepper stubble and sharp, dark eyes that appeared to stare into your very soul.

He was dressed in a dark grey suit that gave him a look of authority as he walked with purpose beside Jasper.

"Ms. Dodson, I believe my second in command has already made it clear that we no longer wish for further meddling with this case."

His voice practically boomed, causing the woman to cower. Darren didn't like seeing her like this.

"Furthermore, you yourself have no children involved in this case, so your over eager participation is all the more unnecessary."

Liam then glanced towards Darren, his eyes flitted to the collar around his neck and darkening in recognition.

"To top it off, you dare bring a rogue into the pack?"

"He's not...." Sophie began, then went quiet as she lost her voice.

Liam tilted his head as he focused on her.

"How is he not? He abandoned the pack, which makes him an outsider and a risk to the investigation. If you wish to help, then I suggest you stay home and let us handle it."

Sick of listening to this Alpha nonsense, Darren decided to speak up.

"Wait a minute..."

"This does not concern you," the Alpha snapped instantly, cutting Darren off and forcing even more supernatural pressure on him.

The power of the collar trembled as it did it's best to keep the Alpha's presence at bay. Darren's knees buckled in response and he fell silent.

Then, the two Alphas left the room without another word, though Jasper did cast one last glance at them before slipping out of view. As soon as the force was lifted, Sophie regained her posture and stormed out.

Surprised by her abrupt recovery, Darren all but ran behind her.

"Where are you going?" he called.

She just huffed angrily passed the reception desk.

"If they don't want us to help them, then we'll do this ourselves."

[butterflies-dragons]

AERION TARGARYEN & JOFFREY BARATHEON

The cruelty and madness of Aerion Targaryen is brought up to us in Jon and Sansa’s chapters:

"The next brother was Aerion."

"Aerion the Monstrous?” Jon knew that name. “The Prince Who Thought He Was a Dragon” was one of Old Nan’s more gruesome tales. His little brother Bran had loved it.

“The very one, though he named himself Aerion Brightflame. One night, in his cups, he drank a jar of wildfire, after telling his friends it would transform him into a dragon, but the gods were kind and it transformed him into a corpse.

—A Clash of Kings - Jon I

* * *

"But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart, a gentle hand? Is he chivalrous as befits a king? Will he cherish Margaery and treat her tenderly, protect her honor as he would his own?”

“He will,” Sansa lied. “He is very … very comely.”

“You said that. You know, child, some say that you are as big a fool as Butterbumps here, and I am starting to believe them. Comely? I have taught my Margaery what comely is worth, I hope. Somewhat less than a mummer’s fart. Aerion Brightfire was comely enough, but a monster all the same. The question is, what is Joffrey?” 

[…] Sansa felt as though her heart had lodged in her throat. The Queen of Thorns was so close she could smell the old woman’s sour breath. Her gaunt thin fingers were pinching her wrist. To her other side, Margaery was listening as well. A shiver went through her. “A monster,” she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. “Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher’s boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He’s evil and cruel, my lady, it’s so. And the queen as well.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

As you can see, in these two passages Aerion Targaryen is described as "monstrous" and “monster.”

Indeed, Aerion Targaryen is the main villain of the first Dunk & Egg tale, The Hedge Knight. And Aerion is also very similar to Joffrey Baratheon, both were vain, cruel and treated everyone and everything disdainfully.  

When Sansa thought herself in love with Joffrey Baratheon (Jon’s foil, switched at birth trope), she compared her love story with Florian and Jonquil: 

"I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian.”  

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

As first Sansa thought that Joffrey was very gallant and chivalrous, because he played that role very well, exactly how Aerion Targaryen did:

Aerion is all smiles and chivalry so long as his father is watching, if the tales be true, but when he's not ..."

—The Hedge Knight

But Joffrey's true nature was vain, disdainful and cruel not only with people, but also with animals. The same way Joffrey cut a pregnant cat, Aerion killed his little brother Egg's cat:

"He threw my cat in the well too. He says he didn't, but he always lies."

Prince Daeron gave a weary shrug. "Egg has the truth of it. Aerion's quite the monster."

—The Hedge Knight

Later, when Sansa saw Joffrey’s true nature, her impression of Joffrey matches Jon’s impression of the prince, the night at the feast at Winterfell:

Prince Joffrey had his sister’s hair and his mother’s deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall. —A Game of Thrones - Jon I Sansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. “I hate you,” she whispered. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

And much later, in the first Sansa chapter from The Winds of Winter, Joffrey, like Aerion, is described as “a comely monster” 

Ser Harrold Hardyng looked every inch a lord-in-waiting; clean-limbed and handsome, straight as a lance, hard with muscle. Men old enough to have known Jon Arryn in his youth said Ser Harrold had his look, she knew. He had a mop of sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, an aquiline nose. Joffrey was comely too, though, she reminded herself. A comely monster, that’s what he was. Little Lord Tyrion was kinder, twisted though he was.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

And regarding Joffrey's true nature, how to forget Jon's iconic line: "Joffrey is truly a little shit." 

So Aerion Targaryen and Joffrey Baratheon were comely monsters and little shits; but the interesting thing with these two characters is their connection with the story of Florian and Jonquil.

Aerion was the villain of The Hedge Knight, a tale where Florian and Jonquil is one of the main themes. Tanselle the Dornish puppeteer played the role of Jonquil, Aerion was the villainous dragon and Dunk was Florian the Fool.

Sansa thought Joffrey was her Florian, but he really was her Aerion "the Monstrous" Targaryen.

And Jon Snow, who is Joffrey's foil and shares a lot with Dunk, will probably play the role of Florian the Fool for Sansa in the future.

I wrote a lot more about all of this in these previous posts:

DUNK SNOW

THE BLACK PRINCE WITH THE WHITE GUARDIAN

[x-infernhoes-x]

Dangerous Game- Dominic x Reader [SMUT]

Dominic aka Hot Aswang Leader, Abswang, Zadddy Aswang x Reader

Warnings (?):  Smut, Blood, Biting, Implied Relationship, Implied Consent, Dominic being slightly possessive? M A R K I N G S, Oral (female receiving), THEY BE GOING AT IT NON-STOP

Genre: Good Ol’ Fashioned Forbidden Love (if there’s a genre like that LMAO)

Description: I wrote this at 3:40 am last night while listening to Dangerous Game from the Broadway Musical, Jeykll and Hyde and my brain immediately went, why not coconut? So have this little brain fart I just got when I’m supposed to be sleeping. Come get y’alls juice Dominic simps. Also, reader is AFAB but I’ll try my hand at a gender-neutral one if ever I get possessed by the spirits of determination, diligence and inspiration. Also included a Bridgerton reference there and maybe an Ang Darling Kong Aswang reference too kasi why the fuck not.

PS. I’ve managed to finish this up sometime around 2:45 am today and yes I did sleep last night/yesterday and no, I didn’t spend my whole weekend writing this fic. Maybe.

He knew this was all sorts of wrong from the start and yet here he was, standing within the bed chambers of the woman he burns for more than anything in this world and a strong and almost otherworldly desire that only could be satiated by being with her. Dominic knew that his kind and his lover’s kind would be at odds due to how their nature was as a creature of the night to prey on humans. Although despite this, he was feeling hopeful that his relationship with his beloved would last. As the Aswang Prince, he was well aware that was happening around the clans he ruled over and he also knew of the union of Elisa who happened to be one of his people and her now husband, Victor. He also knew about the bloodshed that had taken place during that time and how it led to the civil unrest and rebellion within the tribes of his kind that rages on up until this day.

The wind from the open window where he had come from seemed to rage on and about outside as if there was a storm brewing. There before him stood (y/n) clad in her sleepwear with her back facing him, dark eyes wide in disbelief and brows furrowed in uncertainty and the Aswang Prince could tell from the way she stood and presented herself that she was thinking about the same thing as him. Shrugging off his coat, he then took a step forward towards his beloved who seemed to be unmoving before him, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, his sharp nails gently running down the tense woman’s arms, back before halting to a stop on her neck and stomach with a gentle yet vice-like grip, his face gently nuzzling against her warm skin, breathing in her scent like a drug.

I feel your fingers- Brushing my shoulder- Your tempting touch, As it tingles my spine- Watching your eyes As they invade my soul- Forbidden pleasures I'm afraid to make mine.

“D-Dominic, what are you doing…?” His lover would ask, trying her best to pull herself away from the prince, breath hitched in her throat, soft lips trapped in between her teeth. “Hindi natin tong pwedeng ipagpatuloy….delikado na.” Tilting her head towards him, Dominic responded to her, breath ghosting over her lips, “I know…Pero wala na akong pakilam kung mahuli pa tayong dalawa.” Before he would bestow his lover a searing and passionate kiss hotter than the flames of hell and the santelmo could ever conjure, his hands relinquishing their hold upon her throat as they made their way down past her shoulders, breasts and stomach only to disappear between the valley of her thighs where his fingers would make quick work of her folds, already dripping wet with her arousal, making his lover groan out in pleasure, his hips bucking against her backside.

At the touch of your hand- At the sound of your voice- At the moment your eyes meet mine- I am out of my mind- I am out of control- Full of feelings I can't define!

With Dominic’s left hand still relentlessly working upon his lover’s heat, he could feel (Y/N)’s hands attempt to push him away once more, her chest heaving and skin flushed a deep red, letting out a fragile keen of his name escape her lips before he took a step back once he felt her tug on his jeans, a hint for him to take off what was left of his clothing, the thick plume of desire that once clouded his mind seemed to dissipate when he felt his own arousal escape the confines of his now discarded garments as he let out a moan of his own once he saw (Y/N) drop her night dress to the ground, awakening something primal within him, eyes drinking in every single curve, dip and imperfections that his lover had. To him, (Y/N) was the most beautiful woman he had set his sights on regardless of what she would say and it was pretty ironic to say that an Aswang like him was starting to believe that God was real and that God was definitely a woman that took the form of his lover who was perfect in every way.

It's a sin with no name- Like a tiger to tame And my senses proclaim It's a dangerous game!

With their lips pressed together in a heated kiss that seemed to drive them both wild, the raven haired Prince of the night drew back with a low snarl, his teeth trapping her lips between his enough to draw blood as he pulled away with a smirk, the dark red liquid staining both of their lips as he spoke, voice raspy and deep, “I’ll make sure that you’ll only feel me and only me tonight and leave marks on your skin as a symbol of my love. Sa akin ka lang at ako sayo, naiintindihan mo ba?” his words seemed to send chills down the quivering woman’s spine as he dragged his sharp nails down against her soft flesh, his lips and occasionally his tongue and fangs would trail lower and lower, his face disappearing between her legs, eating her out like a starved beast, his nose brushing against the soft bundle of nerves, hands gripping her thighs and hips tightly with his unnatural strength, his nails dug into her flesh, which left miniscule bleeding marks where Dominic held her, his eyes boring into hers, drinking in the sounds (Y/N) made like fine wine.

It's a sin with no name- Like a tiger to tame And my senses proclaim It's a dangerous game! A darker dream That has no ending Something unreal That you want to be true.

They’ve done this a million of times but Dominic would never get tired of hearing his lover’s needy pleas for him whenever they made love like this, his fingers would tease her entrance relentlessly, watching her squirm and thrash upon her mattress with an almost sadistic delight. He loved how she would beg for him, how her body reacted to his fervent touches and how breathless she would get after he would kiss her. He loved every second of it and it was safe to say that Dominic was proud of himself to be able to make his beloved to become like this and all for his eyes only. After a few more flicks of his devilishly talented tongue, Dominic then pulled away a grin plastered on his face while his partner mewled rather pathetically, almost as if to ask him why he ceased his relentless teasing just as she was this close on reaching her much needed release and was surprised to feel two of his fingers enter her, curling and twisting inside of her clenching walls that made Dominic groan the same time his love had yelped and screamed his name out like a desperate prayer and all at once his fingers came out of her with a satisfying ‘pop’, admiring how her juices coated his fingers and glistened in the dim lighting of her room like ambrosia.

A strange romance Out of a mystery tale The frightened princess Doesn't know what to do!

Does she just run away? Does she risk it and stay? Either way, there's no way to win! All I know is, I'm lost And I'm counting the cost My emotions are in a spin! And though no one's to blame...

“Here, have a taste of yourself.” Dominic stated, pressing his fingers against (Y/N)’s lips, which of course the overstimulated woman took in with such eagerness, sucking on his digits like how she would suck on a lollipop, her gaze hazy and pupils blown, almost turning themselves as dark as the night and that was enough for Dominic to enter her without warning but had enough preparation for him, her moans silenced by the fingers that were still in her mouth, her tongue now swirling around them making him growl against the junction of her shoulder and neck, his fangs piercing the skin there as well before he pulled his fingers away from her mouth, replacing it with his own, not minding the slight metallic taste from the incisions he had left a few moments ago.

It's a crime and a shame! But it's true, all the same It's a dangerous game!

No one speaks- Not one word- All the words are in our eyes Silence speaks Loud and clear- All the words we want to hear! It was an all lips, tongue and teeth type of kiss that seemed to flare both of their senses up into overdrive and making the lovers both drunk and high off of the euphoria they were sharing. Both of their bodies rocking against each other, their hands grasping whatever their fingers could touch, grab and tug at. Dominic could feel (Y/N)’s nails run down from his shoulders and down to his back, edging him to go as fast as he could on her, his hair sticking haphazardly onto his now sweaty skin, hips furiously slamming into her with no breaks at all. Dominic was living for it and this action alone made him hoist (Y/N)’s leg up to rest upon his shoulder while the other one snuck behind her, reeling the woman in closer by her haunches, both of them moaning in delight. At that moment they both couldn’t care less about the sounds they made, the important thing was that they were both here together, regardless of what the consequences that would soon bestow upon them.

What happened next between them was all a blur save for the things they’ve done in one whole night. Dominic took (Y/N) to great heights with him making love to her continuously, he had her pressed against the wall with him taking her from behind, on the floor, on her dresser, on every possible surface and position he could think of down to the point where the two of them did it in front of the mirror where he would watch his length disappear within her and the way her breasts would bounce every single time he would thrust into her, his hand would grip on her throat and would tighten slightly, lips would ghost over her ear whispering a string of curses and words that would give Satan himself a run for his money and his lover would respond to every word he would say with a moan or a mantra of his name and it was a sign that she was close, coming for whatever time that night and he was nearing his climax too from the way he was holding her against him.

I am losing my mind- I am losing control- Full of feelings I can't define! It's a sin with no name Like a tiger to tame and though no one's to blame It's a crime and a shame And the angels proclaim It's a dangerous game!

“D-dom, I-I’m close!!” (Y/N) cried out with tears in her eyes the moment Dominic had thrown her upon her bed, her toes curling and hands balled up into fists, . “Then come with me, my love. I w-want to see you break.” The prince would respond as he pulled her into a tight embrace, still rocking against her like there was no tomorrow and soon enough, they both came together leaving (Y/N) mumbling out his name like a babbling child, her insides coated with his own juices as she shakily held into her, both trembling from the extreme ecstasy they both felt.

Once they both had come down from their respective highs, the Aswang Leader could only pull his face back from its previous position from (Y/N)’s shoulder, his touch soft and light as he brushed away some strands away from her face with a soft smile as the two basked in the afterglow of their passionate love making, the two would merely hold entwine each other’s hands as a silent promise to never let go of each other before Dominic pressed a sweet kiss upon it. “Mahal kita.” He spoke firmly, eyes full of love, warmth and vulnerability that only she was allowed to see as the female responded with a kiss and a soft smile before saying, “Mahal din kita, Dominic.”  And soon the two lovers fell asleep, with their bodies pressed up against each other.

It's a dangerous game! Such a dangerous game...

[surlybobbies]

(here’s a late holiday offering for all of you)

deancas, 2.5k, AU, friends to lovers, baby jack

-----

They stopped at a park on the way back to Dean’s apartment. Baby’s trunk was full of gifts, evidence of a successful Christmas shopping trip, and so it was with satisfaction that Dean leaned against the hood of the car and pulled out his burger from the takeout bag.

Cas was similarly content, and they enjoyed each other’s company in silence for a few minutes as they began their meal. At a nearby jungle gym, children threw snowballs at each other from the little flakes of ice they’d been able to scrape together. Dean tried not to watch them too closely - you could never be too careful - but Cas observed them with a furrowed brow.

Apropos of nothing, he said, “How do parents handle the Santa situation?”

Dean wiped his mouth with a napkin. “What do you mean?”

“When would one begin telling a child about Santa? And how does one deal with the inevitable fallout when they realize he isn’t real?”

Dean’s stomach turned a little bit. “You thinkin’ about kids all of a sudden?”

“Not sure,” Cas said, examining his burger and plucking out a piece of onion with his fingers.

Another silence descended. Dean frowned at his meal, his appetite lost.

Meanwhile, Cas plucked out another onion slice. “I don’t think I believed in Santa,” he said eventually. “But I knew about him. I wish I could remember who first told me the tale.”

“I learned about him when I was in middle school,” Dean admitted. “The first time I stayed at one school for more than a few months. Pretty sure by then I was too old to believe.”

Cas lifted his eyes to the playground again. “No doubt at least a few of these children believe in Santa.” He sucked some stray ketchup off his thumb, and Dean had to look away.

“Good for them,” he said. “They should enjoy being kids.”

“In a few years, maybe even this year, their parents are going to have to admit to their lies.”

“It’s harmless,” Dean replied, waving away Cas’s curious stare. “It’s good for ‘em. Teaches ‘em to question things, question motives. Gets ‘em ready for the adult world of backstabbing and lies.”

Cas smiled at him. It was wide and affectionate. “I thought you said they should enjoy being kids?”

Dean bit down on a reflexive smile. “It’s one little thing, alright? Santa’s like - 1% of the kid experience. They’ve got the other 99% to think about - cooler, more important shit.”

“Like what?”

“Like the shit they do on the daily, y’know? If they can con their parents into letting them have candy for breakfast. Or sneaking down at midnight to have some ice cream. Or building a pillow fort. Or stickers. Or farts.”

“Farts?”

“Kids like farts.”

“No one likes farts.”

“You don’t know kids then.”

Cas conceded with a tilt of his head. “You’re right. Maybe they do enjoy farts.”

They finished their burgers and sipped at their sodas. It was when Dean was returning from the trash can that he saw the wistful look on Cas’s face as he listened to the yells and laughter of the kids. He smacked Cas on the arm. “You good?”

Up close, Dean could see the downturn of Cas’s lips. “Just thinking about the future,” Cas said eventually. When he turned to Dean, he was smiling woodenly.

Dean’s gut turned sour again, and he knew himself better than to blame it on the burger. “So you are thinkin’ about kids.”

Cas looked down at his shoes. “I think I might be.”

Dean ran a hand over his chin, then cleared his throat. “Good for you, man. I think you’d be a good dad.”

Cas looked at him. “And you too. You’d be an amazing father.”

The expression on Cas’s face - sincere, soft, affectionate - made Dean’s throat tight. He laughed too loudly. “Hey, listen, when you do have kids, you can tag me in any time, alright?”

The wistfulness had vanished from Cas’s face. He was smiling. “Agreed. I’ll let you handle the Santa situation.”

-----

Cas started fostering Jack a year later, and it was apparent very early on to Dean that fatherhood was Cas’s calling. Yes, he was always tired, and yes, he didn’t have nearly as much time for Dean as he did before, but Jack was thriving and Cas was happy - and because of that, Dean was happy, even if it meant losing Cas’s attention to fatherhood.

Dean’s disappointment was lessened by the fact that Jack quickly became just as attached to Dean as he was to his foster dad, so if Dean spent a few days a week at Cas’s place to “help out with the baby,” no one questioned his motives.

“You ever going to tell him?” Sam asked one day as he and Dean watched Cas carry Jack around Sam’s garden. Jack was a grabby kid, and Cas was constantly having to stop him from putting flowers in his mouth.

Dean didn’t bother asking what Sam was talking about. “He doesn’t need that on his plate right now.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, unconvinced. “So when? When he gives Jack up? You and I both know that’s never happening.”

“Then never,” Dean snapped, even though just the thought of holding it all in for one more day made Dean’s chest feel tight.

Sam ran a hand over his mouth like he was trying to stop himself from saying anything else, but Sam was nothing if not nosy. “We both know never’s not an option. It’s gotta be now, Dean. Or if not now, then soon. You’re already playing house with Cas. Plus there’s a kid involved now - a kid who absolutely adores you - so I hate to say it, but if things have to go south, it has to happen before Jack’s any older.”

Dean stared at Sam. “That’s fucked up, Sammy.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know this already,” Sam said, though his tone was gentle. “I’m just saying out loud what you don’t want to admit.”

Cas was approaching with Jack, so Dean didn’t respond.

“I apologize,” Cas said to Sam. “Jack might have destroyed a few blooms.” He opened his palm and offered the crushed red blooms up for inspection. It could have been Dean’s bloody heart for how much he was hurting.

It was obvious that Sam was still watching Dean out of the corner of his eye, but he spared a smile and a tummy tickle for Jack. “No harm done, little guy.”

-----

Dean knew Sam was right, knew that for Jack’s sake, his two de facto parents needed to be on the same page about what they were to each other - but there was never a good time to bring it up. Was Dean supposed to just spill his heart out onto the dining room table with Jack’s sliced fruit? He contemplated asking Sam for advice, but 1) Dean did not want nor would he accept any pity from his little brother and 2) Sam was busy getting ready for his wedding.

So Dean, Cas, and Jack went on with their lives - separate but hopelessly intertwined, and all Dean could do was lie awake at night hoping that when the time came, he’d be able to make sense of the mess of tangled knots they’d created.

-----

Jack made the cutest ring bearer. Cas was a groomsman, but he’d asked to escort Jack up the aisle, and Sam and Eileen had loved the idea. Dean had loved the idea too, mostly because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to stomach the sight of Cas walking down the aisle in his smartly-tailored suit, arm-in-arm with Eileen’s cousin Sara. In the moment, however, Dean loved the idea simply because Cas was incandescent, smiling widely down at Jack, holding Jack’s hand as the toddler took his too-big, unsteady steps down the garden path.

At the end of the walk, when Cas had deposited Jack safely with Gabriel in the front row, he took his place by Dean’s side.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at him, helpless with affection. “I’m happy for you, Cas,” he said, just as the guests stood up to welcome the bride.

Cas ducked his head bashfully, but he put a hand on Dean’s back in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

-----

Cas cornered him at the reception, where Dean was lurking at the edges of the dance floor. “Can we talk?” he said, leaning in to be heard over the music.

Dean had two servings of whiskey in him. “Always, Cas.”

Cas looked him oddly, but he said nothing. He led Dean away from the reception tent (where Gabriel and Garth were taking turns to dance with Jack in their arms) and stopped when they were far enough away to hear each other without yelling.

Cas was pink-cheeked from champagne, his hair was a mess, and Dean was so in love with him it hurt. “What do you need?” he asked, because concentrating on what Cas needed kept Dean from focusing on what Dean wanted.

“I thought I should tell you before it gets any farther in the proceedings - I’ve started the formal process of adopting Jack.”

Dean’s heart was full to bursting. He swallowed down a sudden urge to cry. “That’s great news, man,” he said, pulling Cas into a rough hug. “Congratulations!”

Cas’s arms wrapped tight around Dean, his chin hooked over Dean’s shoulder. There was a telltale sniff at his ear, so Dean just held on tighter to his best friend.

When Cas drew away a minute later, his nose was red. He kept his hands at Dean’s elbows. “I’ve asked so much of you already - “

“Stop right there,” Dean said, shaking his head, “because that’s not true. Whatever I did, I did because I wanted to. Because I’d do anything for that kid.”

Cas looked at Dean so tenderly it made Dean’s throat tight. “And I’m so grateful for that, Dean. You’ve been the best support I could have asked for.” Cas looked down, his eyebrows furrowing. The hands at Dean’s elbows tightened. “But I have to ask of you one more thing.”

There was no universe out there where Dean would have refused Cas anything. “Spit it out, Cas.”

“If something were to happen to me,” Cas said, eyes brimming, “would you take him in?”

Dean took hold of Cas’s elbows too, a reassurance that Cas was still there in front of him, still alive, still breathing. “Cas, you’re going to be kicking for a long time. Jack will have grandbabies before you check out.”

Cas smiled softly. He indulged Dean. “Still, if I should go before you - “

Helpless, absolutely wrecked, Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sammy had just gotten married to the best woman on Earth a few hours prior. A few yards away, the people Dean loved were dancing to “The Cha-Cha Slide.” And now Cas was asking Dean to take on the biggest honor of his life in the same sentence that Cas was talking about his inevitable death. Dean’s eyes welled up.

Cas touched Dean’s face for a brief moment. “I’m sorry to do this to you.”

Dean swiped at his eyes stubbornly. “Cas, I meant it when I said I’d do anything for that kid. If he ever loses you, he’s going to have me. Don’t even think about apologizing for that.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. There were tears on his cheeks too. “That makes me feel less scared of the future.”

Dean sniffed. He straightened Cas’s tie. “But hey, no takebacks, alright? Even if you go and get yourself hitched, I’m not giving Jack up.”

Cas’s mouth lifted at the corner, but Dean knew it was just for show. “I don’t think marriage is in the cards for me, Dean,” Cas admitted.

It was the way Cas looked at him that made Dean remember what Sam had said a few months before. If Dean was ever going to say something, it had to be right at this moment.

“Listen, Cas,” Dean said, clearing his throat, “now that we know Jack’s gonna be sticking around, you should know something.”

The hands at Dean’s elbows tightened again. “Tell me,” Cas said, his eyes growing worried. He stepped closer, studying Dean’s face.

Dean was crying again, and he despised it. “I’m in love with you,” he said. He was terrified, anxious, and angry with himself at the same time. “So if that changes things - if you want me to fuck off and never talk to you or Jack again - now’s the time to tell me.”

Cas took a shaky breath. He cradled Dean’s face. “My love,” he murmured, eyes warm though they were still brimming with tears. “Love of my life.”

Dean almost laughed. Incredulous, he asked, “What? Who, me?”

Cas kissed him. It tasted like salt, and Dean was still crying, and honestly he had no idea what was happening, but Cas was patient with him, kissing his cheek when Dean did nothing but stare.

He drew back after the first few seconds, smiling despite Dean’s shock. “Yes, you,” he confirmed. His hands went to Dean’s tie. His voice was thick when he spoke again. “So no, in case it isn’t obvious, I do not want you to ‘fuck off.’”

This had not been what Dean was expecting. Tentatively, he touched Cas’s face, just a brush of fingers against Cas’s cheek, not bothering to hide his amazement when Cas smiled at him.

“Kind of slow on the uptake,” Cas said. His nose was still pink. “Maybe I should be in charge of Jack’s studies.”

It hit Dean all at once. Cas was his. Jack was his. Everything he’d ever wanted in this world was his. He kissed Cas properly this time.

-----

They returned to the reception a few minutes later. Eileen, upon seeing Cas’s glossy eyes and pink nose, instinctively grabbed a butter knife to throw at Dean’s throat, but Sam tugged her arm down and pointed at Dean and Cas’s joined hands.

The pair mingled with the guests hand-in-hand for most of the night, only letting go to pick up Jack and swing him between them.

Later on, in the parking lot, with Jack asleep in his car seat and buckled safely in the back seat of the Impala, Cas turned to Dean, who had his arm around Cas’s waist.

Cas smiled at him. He said two words: “Marry me.”

Dean didn’t know how he had any tears left in him. “Jesus. Give a guy a break,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Earlier I said marriage wasn’t in the cards for me,” Cas explained, smiling widely, apparently pleased that he was making Dean cry so much. “I don’t want you to misunderstand - it’s in the cards if it’s you.”

Dean touched his forehead to Cas’s, so happy he could barely get any words out. “Cas, you know it’s a yes.”

-----

Jack was five years old and came home from kindergarten with a coloring sheet of Santa. Cas looked at Dean, mouth thin. “I’m tagging you in,” he said, then left the room.

“Can we see Santa at the mall, dad?” Jack asked, tongue between his teeth as he scribbled with his crayon.

Dean put a hand on Jack’s back. “Sure, bud,” he said. “You can tell him what you want for Christmas.”

He pulled out his phone. You’re dealing with the tooth fairy, he texted Cas.

Fine. You talk to him about the Easter Bunny then.

-----

Hope you liked it! I only ask that you do me one favor if you did - go and read my most recent fic on ao3 - I posted it at a dumb time and wish more people could see it. 

[yamithediaperdork]

Welcome to baby land (Ben 10)

it was a tale as old as time, one that had happened before, would happen this day and despite the fall out from today's events would happen again in the future.

A young boy, fueled by fetish desires and spending hour after hour, day after day bringing himself to the peak as he looked at his chosen fetish, only to pull back last second.

Because the boy knows for what he wants, for what he's going to do.. he needs that desperate pent up denial of release to shut down his common sense. to make him nice and dumb.

His name was Ben Tennyson, and up until a short while ago he had been the hero of the universe and earth. But that was before the watch had been taken, and given to his cousin Gwen who had been picked as being a most reasonable hero. with cutting remarks that he would of never gotten the watch for as long as he had had it's marker realized who was wearing it, and being called to immature.. was it any wonder a bitter and dejected Ben cut himself off from his extended family and drove into the world of porn?

never mind he had beaten off a alien invasion, a 'pants peeing doofus' couldn't be trusted with the watch.

Fine. whatever. if they wanted to look at him as a stupid big baby.. that's what he'd become.

He didn't even like diapers at first when he started, but well.. porn has a way of warping a young boy's mind. Looking at picture after picture, caption after caption and reading the stories Ben for all intents and purposes turned himself in a diaper boy, and a humiliation junkie.

Taking birthday money he even found and brought a package of punishment diapers meant for shaming (though he got it at a discount as the shop was being put out of business) that were super thick, boasted how they could hold any mess.. and also claimed they didn't keep any stink from being contained and guaranteed diaper rash if used.

For a porn addicted loser like Ben, this was pure gold and since he paid for rush devilry he got a enema bag and a small bottle of little crampers, the enema for brats.

Ben knew what he wanted, total, public humiliation but he kept ruining it for himself with self pleasure driving the need out of his mind before he could do it.

finally, Mid October the little porn fueled loser decided enough was enough, he was gonna stop wasting his time and the diapers he'd paid for and set himself up to goon. For a week strait he subjected himself to it, and by the time he was done on Sunday night, Monday morning the little loser set himself up to fail.

waking up early, Ben used the whole bottle of little crampers even though it said to just mix 1/8 with a litlre bag for a enema kit, and groaned and whimpered as he used it, hot water and a dash of castor oil in the big enema bag, only his bulky white and black t-shirt hid the preggo belly he gave himself.

getting back to his bedroom and cramping, the soon to be ruined diaper loser looked at the pack of his punishment diapers and having not worn one till today, toyed with layering at first but they just looked too thick.

Settling on one of the bulky diapers with it sobbing crybaby design, he taped it on then tried the tapes, blushing as the package lived up to it's name.

Once taped on it would take 2 hours for the tapes to come back off, he was truly trapped. again a normal boy of Ben's age would of been panicking, realizing they had gone too fair but Ben just breathed fast, and smiled as he picked his baggiest pair of pants and was delighted that they still only JUST hid the diaper, if he bent over his padded shame would be CLEAR.

Getting down stairs and getting breakfast in himself, he was already seated as his parents came down and made small talk with them even as the delightful cramps started to build. (he'd never admit it, well at least before today's events unfolded but he'd grown to like pain, it made his heart beat fast and smile)

Still he couldn't help but squirm and groan a little bit, and got looks of concern from his parents as he finished his bowl of cereal.

"Benny you feeling alright?" His mother asked, coming over and putting a hand to his forehead. "You can stay home today if your not feeling good."

"N-No I'll be alright. just worried about a math test." Ben said, mixing truth with lies,then added: "Besides, you and dad said you were BOTH gonna be out all day today. who'd stay with me?"

"Heh, He's got a point there.. and good on you Ben. I'm proud your being mature enough not to try and get out of a test." His dad said, totally misunderstanding the happy giggle Ben let out.

His father might of thought it was Ben was so happy he was proud of him, But for diaper bitch Benny, the irony of the comment almost made him ruin the fun early.

If Ben's plan had one flaw (well one he'd admit to) it was the fact that he hadn't taken into account how much slower he'd be having to waddle his massive diaper butt to school with the added fun of having to stop 3 times to force himself not to spoil the fun early.

He'd even left a little sooner then normal, his parents had been quick with their breakfast and he 'accidentally' left his house key on the desk in his room and after making sure the front door was locked, went out the back door as you could lock it from the inside while the door was open.

'No getting out of this by running home!' Ben gleefully thought.

He barley made it into homeroom before the bell rang, though since he was known to be tardy from time to time it didn't raise too much attention, get getting a snide comment from his homeroom teacher about gracing them with his presence.

Even better, home was also his math class and that was going to be first period (which was a good thing for the ever so full little perv as his 'chocolate mud baby' wasn't going to stay in him much longer.)

Mr. Fillawick wasted little time in handing out the tests and after a standard warning that he'd tolerate NO cheating and there was going to be NO bathroom breaks, he offered anyone who had to go a chance to use the potty now.

'OK..this is it..your last chance.. you could just say you need to go, and sneak out the school.fill your diapers in the woods and get out of them once the tapes give up.' Ben thought to himself, biting his lip.

it wouldn't be destroying himself in class and getting him labeled stinky baby for the rest of the year, but it would land him in hot water with the school and his parents and he'd run the risk of being seen outside right?

He almost started to raise his hand when his inner pervert took over and he just turned it into brushing his hand though his hair.

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you. you'll have a hour to do the test. good luck." Mr. Fillawick said and shrugged, going back to his desk and sitting down, doing whatever it was teachers did.

Five minutes later and Ben was in a mixture of heaven and hell. he was twitching and sweating a little bit, his pencil twitching in his hand even as he started to leak in little bursts against the front of his diapie.

the cramps were at the point of no return and even if Ben said fuck it and got up to run, he wouldn't of made it more then five steps.

all he'd managed to do so far was write his name on the test and the date, then the cramps had gone over board.

'Ok..Ok.. this was a mistake.. I've leaked enough boy milk to see that.. maybe.. maybe I can still just.. get out..of..' Ben thought, going white knuckled as he gripped the side of his desk with his left hand as a powerful cramp hit, a low rumbling fart coming out his backside though the sound was mostly muted.

the smell however was not as the diapers lived up to their claims and Kids around Ben wrinkled their noses and looked around looking for the source of the smell and eyes zeroing in on his as he was blushing.

"Mr. Fillawick? I think Ben needs to go to the bathroom." A redhead boy behind him said. "Or at Least can he be moved to the back of the classroom.

"Mr. Tennyson had his chance for that Mr. Randal. and I prefer he stay where I can keep a eye on him." Came the teachers amused answer.

even as the class giggled and laughed, two more rotten poots escaped and there was open cries of disgust.

"Gah, at least open a window!"

"What did you have to eat this morning, a skunk!?"

Ben whimpered and squirmed, he had the whole class basically looking at him now and the teasing and taunts had brought his pervert side back up to full power.

'It's now or never.' Ben thought, though he also knew wasn't really a option. it was more like Now or never if he wanted a semblance of control over the act.

it helped he was trembling lots now but Mr. Fillawick who'd never cared for Ben much since he was a rowdy student only watched with sadistic glee.

Ben's Pencil 'accidentally' shook out of his hand and rolled off the desk and onto the floor, and Ben made a show of just reaching into his desk to find anther one.

"Mr. Tennyson, whatever your habits in your own room may be, I run a clean Classroom." the smirking teacher said. "Bend down and point up that pencil."

"Uh..but..If I-" Ben started, putting the perfect crybaby whine in his voice.

"You'll what? fart? like you haven't been doing that already?" the teacher shot back.

Putting on a show of being embarrassed and scared (he was embarrassed but his heart was beating fast) Ben leaned over the right side of his desk and there was a gasp from the students behind him as one thing he hadn't planned on happened.

"BEN'S WEARING A DIAPER!" Hooted Crash.

"A BABY DIAPER!" a blond girl added.

"More like a BIG baby diaper!" Randal noted with amusement.

Somehow his pants must of lowered enough to flash off his embarrassing diaper! Oh god! for all of 2.4 seconds trued to stop what was about to happen but the act of leaning over had been the final trigger.

as the enema finally worked it's magic and the back of his diaper started to swell up Ben could only hear the roar of his mess and though tear filled eyes almost could swear he could see image of him in just diapers and a bib, tapping a shovel on a grave that had been filled in. the tombstone read:

RIP Ben's self respect.

as the force of the mess made Ben fall forward, landing face down and ass up, his pants failing down more so everyone could watch his diapers load up in the back (thankfully they wouldn't be able to tell what he was doing in the front!) The image of baby Ben came over and looked down with a grin at the real one.

"Welcome to baby land~ no going back now."

As Ben's life was ruined, and he was designed to never be able to get that 'excited' again unless he was crapping brains out(heck, he was going to be pulled from school and his parents would begin his new big baby life, treating him like the baby they thought he wanted to be, not knowing he was just a humiliation junkie) Charmcaster smirked in her jail cell.

Sure having to watch all the events unfold from sitting into of a toilet wasn't the way she'd hope to see the spell play out, not to mention it had been that bitch Gwen she had targeting, but this worked out in the end.

Gwen would suffer being the cousin of the big stinky baby and would likely end up having to change him and it wouldn't be too long now before her uncle broke her out. wincing as Ben started to baby babble though she did have one moment's regret.

'I mean, I'm evil and wanna take over the world but was making him a diaper perv too far?' She wondered, then smiled. 'Naaaah!'

The end

[jobean12-blog]

Don’t Be Knotty

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,095

Summary: Bucky tries to surprise you with something sweet but it doens’t quite work out...will you still get a treat in the end?

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club continuation of drunk drabbles and the fun prompt sent in below by @prunes-said-bucky! Thank you and hope you enjoy this! Thank you all for ready and much love always ❤❤❤

Warnings: Sweet fluff, flirting, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, smut -Bucky takes charge and you love it ;) (18 + only please)

“Hey baby! I’m homeeeee!” You hear the sudden bang of wood against tile and then lots of muffled curses and scuffing. Running into the kitchen you see Bucky standing by the table with something behind his back and a spool of yellow ribbon rolling away from his feet. “Are you ok? I heard a bunch of noise and lots of grumbles.”

You take a step forward and he takes one back. “Bucky? What do you have behind your back?” A loud farting sound resonates through your small kitchen just as a deflating balloon falls at his feet. There is no way to stop your eruption of laughter and Bucky hangs his head in defeat, picking the chair up off the floor and sitting with a loud thud.

You immediately rush over and get in his lap, circling your arms around his neck, “aw Bucky, I’m not laughing at you! You know how funny I think fart stuff is!” Brushing your thumb over the stubble on his jaw you lift his face to yours. “So, what were you doing?” His lips turn up in a small smile and he rests his head on your shoulder.

“So, remember our first date in central park when we saw the balloon guy and he made you a dragon?” You nod, smiling big at the memory. “Steve dragged me to some craft store today because he needed some new pencils and they were selling the long balloons to make the animals and I got some hoping to make you something.”

You look around the kitchen and realize you didn’t notice the various colored balloons and instructions laid out in your haste to see what happened. “Bucky, you are the best, you know that! But those are hard to make! I’m pretty sure those people have been practicing a really long time!” He takes a new balloon and easily blows it up, grabbing the end and looping it around his finger. He tries to tie it, but he can’t get his finger out of the loop.

“I haven’t been able to tie a single fucking balloon because my damn fingers are too big!” He rips it off and throws it on the ground. In an attempt to make a joke you say, “you really suck at tying. I hope you never had to tie up a condom.” The air in the room immediately shifts and you find yourself nose to nose with Bucky. “What are you saying, doll?”

Brushing your lips to his you whisper, “all I’m saying is I wouldn’t trust those fingers to get anything tied too tightly, but I sure love them.” His calloused fingertips dance over the patch of skin peaking out through the hole in your jeans. “I’ll tie you up if you make one more remark on my skills. I’d like to see you talk then.” He kisses you, swallowing any response you have and picks you up.

When you finally come up for air, he has you pinned against the closed door of your bedroom, his warm breath fanning against your neck. “I did notice you never untie your shoes. Must be easier that way, just slip them on so you don’t have to deal with tying them again.” His grip on your waist tightens. “You’re asking for it, you know that.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m doing.” He has you on the bed in seconds flat, his hands roaming over the dips and curves of your body and removing any clothing that’s in his way. You try to get his shirt off, but he grabs your wrists with his metal hand and pins your arms above your head. “Don’t move.” He gets up and grabs some of his ties from the closet.

Gently taking your arms he binds your wrists together with the silky fabric, looking to you to make sure you’re ok and comfortable. “I’m fine,” you pant, reaching your foot up to touch him. With a tsk, he takes your ankle and slowly drags your body down so he can secure your foot to the bedpost, doing the same with the other. “I’m really glad you wanted a canopy bed. I didn’t realize it would come in handy like this.” His eyes are dark as they wander over your body, your legs spread wide and your arms resting above your head.

“I bet you’re so wet for me baby girl. You like being tied up like this don’t you?” Your only response is a whine, arching your back, in need of his touch. “Bucky, please. Touch me.” He reaches around your back and deftly unhooks your bra, pulling it off slowly. He takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucks, gently flicking his tongue over and over.

Your hips buck up into his chest and he bites down making you cry out. “I’m gonna have you screaming my name in no time,” he simpers, trailing open mouthed kisses down your stomach. When he reaches the waistband of your underwear, he hooks his thumbs under it but not before kissing the insides of your thighs and your clothed pussy.

Dragging them down your legs he realizes he can’t get them off properly now that your feet are tied to the posts. “Sorry doll face. I’ll buy you a new pair.” With that he easily rips them off and let’s them drop to the floor. He kisses all the way up your leg, his lips everywhere but the spot you want him most. You try to push your hips up and into his face, but he holds you down with his flesh hand splayed over your stomach.

His metal finger lightly rubs over your clit and you feel the muscles in your stomach tighten. He does it several more times before sinking two cool fingers inside you, languidly pumping them in and out. Your breasts rise and fall with your rapid breathing and you can feel yourself nearing the edge. His lips close around your clit and you try to squeeze your knees together from the jolt of pleasure.

He removes his mouth and continues fucking you with his fingers, edging you over and over again. “I warned you not to say anything else about my skills.” He tries to sound sympathetic but from the large bulge in his jeans you know he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He sees where your eyes are settled, watching as you lick your lips. “Maybe I’ll fuck your mouth first and if you’re a good girl I’ll let you cum after I do.”

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @breezy1415 @bucky-on-my-mind @buckys-broody-muffin @buckosawrus @buckys-minty-breath @buckys-henley @chuuulip @emilylyoness @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @itsunclebucky @imgaril-lindru @ikaris-whore @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @lorilane33 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @lokilvrr @littleredstarfish @addikted-2-dopamine @tales-of-spring @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes​ @tuiccim​ @the-wayward-robot​ @yansi1923​ @hopefuldreamers-world​

[ceilingfan5]

13, 2, 2? ::3

OOPS IT GOT LONG SORRY TO STRETCH YOUR DASH

(Soulmates au, Enemies to lovers, “Fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit. Fuck”)

“Fuck. Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. Fuck-” Taako can’t breathe. He’s holed up in the university bathroom with his shirt half off, looking at the absolute very end of the world. Taako, like most people, was born with a birthmark that was supposed to show the first place his Soulmate would touch him, but there must be some mistake. Sure, the psychedelic colors are spreading, still swirling magically under his skin in a near-perfect handprint shape, just like in the movies, but Taako hasn’t met his soulmate yet. What’s worse? The only person who touched him today was his mortal enemy, That Guy From Music Theory That Never Shuts Up. 

Oh no. This absolutely won’t do. 

His slouchy top barely covers it, either. He tries covering it with the concealer he has in his bag, but just like in all those rumors from middle school, nothing works. True love shines through. But it can’t be true love! Taako remembers the absolute contempt he felt when K...Krabbins. Kravix? When that jackass squeezed his shoulder after their group presentation where Taako let him do all the work. It was absolutely an I’m-going-to-throw-you-under-the-bus-for-this-one-shitbag sort of squeeze, something Taako’s not unfamiliar with, and Taako had given him his winningest smile and pulled that offending hand right off of him. There was no love lost there. So has Cupid lost his goddamn mind, or is...is That Guy Taako’s soulmate?

Taako’s gut plummets faster than a lead fart. He’s got to find this guy and prove he isn’t actually his Soulmate. And then he can go back to living his fun and sexy and free lifestyle. 

He’s easier to find than Taako expected. He’s just sitting around in the common area, studying a thick textbook. Taako didn’t even buy any textbooks this year. Obviously they aren’t a match. It’s clear as swarovski crystal, baby. 

Taako walks right up, sweating to death in his sweater but absolutely about to let the public see his divine embarrassment, and he slams his hand down on That Guy’s table. He’s going to go full intimidation with this one. He gives That Guy a narrow look when he jumps and pitches his voice down a little to sound more serious. 

“We have to go on a date.”

The Guy stares back at him--funny, his hand is wrapped up. Maybe he punched somebody for talking shit about a dead ass wig wearing piano fucking composer. It takes him a second to find his voice, but when he does, it’s that affected accent Taako hates so much. 

“I’ll be honest, Taako, that’s...not exactly what I thought you were going to say.”

“Is that a no?” Taako squints at him.

“More of a...why, I’d wager?” The Guy- Kravitz. Kravitz is it, according to the silver sharpie on his fancy notebook. Taako knew that. 

“Does it matter? You, me, mmm...Italian food. The Phoenix. 7pm.”

“Today??” Kravitz splutters. Taako allows him no mercy. Serves him right. Especially as sweaty and nervous as he looks with Taako so close to him. Eugh. 

“Did I stutter? Now’s your chance to opt out. Three. Two.”

“I- I guess- sure. Why not.”

“Perfect.”

Taako wears a turtleneck and a short skirt, the full, easy-to-move-in kind in case he has to run away or climb out a bathroom window. In case, you know, the guy is a full-on creep and not just the kind of person who likes to lecture the teacher on why the textbook has inaccuracies that poison the study of music and ruin the experience for entry-level musicians like his compatriots. 

God. 

He shows up fashionably late to find, to his surprise, that not only has Kravitz already gotten them a table, he’s dressed up, and...unfortunately, he cleans up tasty. Maybe he’d be super fucking gorgeous hot, you know, if he could keep his mouth shut. 

Taako takes his seat and more than his fair share of breadsticks, ready for the guy to bitch and moan about it, but he just raises an eyebrow. 

“So,” Taako says. “You got any hobbies, or are you just into music?”

“I do really enjoy music, and I spend a lot of my time practicing, but I also like playing games like poker. I also spend some time at the gym, and...I’m sorry, the way you keep looking at me. Is this an interview? I feel like I missed something.”

“Maybe so,” Taako says vaguely. They order, and Taako’s slightly surprised to find that Kravitz has good taste. Hm. Interesting. 

They trade tales from other classes and parties they’ve been to, and against his will, Taako starts...enjoying the date. He finally has to steer the subject back to why he hates the guy so much. 

“So why the fuck do you take music class so seriously?”

“Why?” Kravitz thinks for a moment, itching at the bandages on his hand. Maybe it was a burn. Maybe he’s a shit terrible cook, which is another great reason to hate him. Although that hasn’t been a dealbreaker in the past. Shit cooks are always impressed when you’re a great cook, and Taako loves being the center of attention. 

“I’ll tell it to you straight, Taako. And I don’t think you understand. I’m a music major. I play fifteen instruments. I-” his accent slips, and oh, his real voice? Honey butter. Taako may or may not be blushing. “I’m going to be a conductor. It’s an embarrassment for that class-- for basic, entry-level fucking music appreciation to be one of my requirements. Taako, I could teach that class, do you understand?”

Taako understands that he likes the way his name sounds in that low voice of his. Fuck. 

“Okay, yeah, maybe that would make me an asshole too.” He hesitates, and bites his lip, and then the bullet. “What happened to your hand? It was fine this morning.”

“My hand?” Kravitz clutches it. “Nothing.” 

“Liar.” And then Taako knows. “Your soulmate mark showed up. Didn’t it.” 

Kravitz stares at him. His expression is impenetrable. 

“And why would that be?”

Taako takes a gamble. 

“Mine did too.” And he yanks his turtleneck to the side to reveal his mark, practically glowing in its respendency. It almost seems like a shame to cover it. 

Kravitz frowns. And he pokes at his ravioli with his fork. And he unwraps his hand. Glorious, swirling colors, even more passionate than Taako’s, are revealed. Taako swallows. 

“So what does this mean?” Kravitz asks. His tone is intentionally level. 

“I don’t know,” Taako admits. “I guess...I guess we could go on another date? Maybe even...see where the night takes us?” 

Kravitz hesitates, but he nods. 

“I think that’s worth a shot.”

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch25: All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go

Summary: The team work hard to put the events of Sokovia behind them, whilst Steve and Katie set a date for their wedding. But as the Avengers get to grips with their new base upstate, with Tony retired from active service, Steve finds his time stretched perilously thin between his leadership responsibilities and his soon to be wife…and tempers boil over.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark 

Warnings: Bad language, HARD Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: More super edits from @angrybirdcr​ . And this chapter was always one where I was a little bit ambivalent about the flashbacks and ending, so I kinda changed it up a bit...

Chapter 24 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

July 2015

“You’re up early.” Steve said as he dropped onto the swinging chair besides his girl. It wasn’t even 6 am yet but she was sat outside on their patio “You ok?”

“Yeah.” she smiled at him, as he pecked her cheek, looking out over the dimly lit lawn area of the Newly Opened Avengers Facility which swept down to the banks of the Hudson. The Facility had been the product of one of Tony’s crazy brain farts not long after they had come back from Sokovia and had been remodelled in record time. Whilst some areas were still undergoing renovations, over 80% of it was complete. There had also been changes to their team too. Clint had headed home, the birth of his baby son- Nathaniel Pietro- prompting him to take indefinite paternity leave, all of them fully accepting this was his way of leaving everything behind for good. Thor had left earlier that morning, promising he would return for the Wedding, whenever they finally got round to setting a date. But they still hadn’t heard a thing from Banner and the jet was proving impossible to track. On the plus side, they invited Sam and Rhodey to join the team officially and both had gleefully accepted, along with Vision and Wanda. Lawson was now their chief Technician and Evans had joined the team too, which made Katie happy as she enjoyed their company.

It was starting to grow light, the first rays of sunlight were bouncing off the water to the West. He turned to look at his girl and watched her as she surveyed the river, feet tucked underneath her on the seat.

“No regrets?” he asked, and Katie could feel him studying her face as her mind wandered back to the conversation they’d had when Tony had first mentioned moving to a new base.

Look, Cap, we’re like a trouble magnet,“ Tony explained animatedly, "Wherever the Avengers are, trouble follows.”

“So - you’re suggesting we build another building?” Steve rubbed his neck and looked up at the blueprints Tony had now blown up against the wall.

“I’m suggesting we relocate, completely, leave the Tower to Stark Industries and build our own facility and expand.” Tony said, flipping through pictures with a sweep of his finger. “We have this this old warehouse upstate, good location, middle of nowhere.”

"Less chance of civilian damage.” Steve’s hands fell to the buckle on his belt.

“Full medical wing, Living quarters, as well as a bunch of extra spare apartments, for all the strays we keep accumulating, training arena, kitchen, cafeteria- satellite links- you name it, you got it.”

"How long will it take?” Steve asked and Katie tried not to sigh at the fact that her dream of a quiet life in a nice house in Brooklyn had just blown up in front of her face.

Tony looked affronted. “I’m a billionaire cap, it’ll take however long we say.”

Steve looked at Katie who simply shrugged at him, keeping her face passive.  

“Have you two eaten?” she asked, changing the subject.

Tony shook his head as did Steve.

“I’ll fix you both something.” she turned and started moving towards the kitchen area.

“Not for me…” Tony said. “I’ve got a dinner reservation with Pepper at 8…” “Yeah, you might wanna get a move on then, seeing as its 7:30.” She shot over her shoulder as she turned and began pulling stuff out of the fridge to prepare dinner.

“What?” Tony glanced at his watch and frowned “Shit…fuck…”

“You kiss Pepper with that mouth?” Steve quipped back as Tony collected up his laptop and the blue-prints disappeared off the wall.

“FRIDAY why didn’t you remind me?” Tony groaned. “You never asked Boss…” The Irish lilt came back.

“I miss JARVIS…” Tony grumbled, the door clicking shut as he left.

Steve headed into the kitchen and stood for a moment watching his wife as she moved around, before he he headed over to her, his arms wrapping round her from behind.

“Are you okay, you know, with the idea of moving to a new facility?” Steve asked. “I know it’s not exactly the home you had in mind.”

“We’ll be together. That’s all that matters.” Katie shrugged, concentrating on her task- chopping a pepper up for the couscous salad she was making.

“I know but, I just worry sometimes. You deserve better, a quiet life.”

“Not sure we have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek. “You got out of SHIELD, you could get out of this.”

“You know for a moment in Sokovia… “Katie placed her knife down and turned to face him. “I thought… well I thought we weren’t getting out of it alive. And It frightened me, I’m not gonna lie…”

She looked up at him and met his eyes. He knew the whole thing with Ultron and the final show down in Sokovia had shaken her, more than any other mission she’d been involved in. It served as a reminder exactly what is achievable with technology, how fragile humans are, how easily life and peace could be shattered. For that split second, when on that floating city she hadn’t seen a way out, she had genuinely thought their time was up. And her life with Steve cut short before it had even started.

“We stood there, on that rock and in that split second when it seemed everything was lost you know what I felt?” she looked at him and he waited for her answer “Relief. Relief that if we both went down, we did it together and I didn’t have to spend a single day without you…”

“Sweetheart…” Steve began but she carried on.

“I can’t sit by and simply wave you off on a mission wondering to myself if it’s the last time I ever see you. I hated doing that when I left SHIELD and I can’t do it anymore. You fight, I fight.” “So what if I quit?” Steve looked at her. “What if I gave you the life you deserve?” “You can’t quit, and I wouldn’t ask you to.” Katie shook her head, smiling a little. “The world needs The Avengers, and the Avengers need their Captain…” “And their Captain needs his girl.” Steve took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with something that looked to her a lot like worry. She sighed and ran her hands up his arms, bringing them to rest on his shoulders. 

“And she’s not going anywhere…” Katie she assured him gently, standing on her toes to give him a peck

She knew the Avengers depended on Steve as their leader even more so now that Tony had said he was hanging up his Iron Man suits for good, choosing to manage and see over the running of the practical side of things instead of active combat. Ultron had really hit her brother hard, but whilst his way of dealing with it was to call it quits, Steve was the opposite. He wasn’t ready to leave this behind for a quiet suburban life. And if being with him meant Katie had to stay too, then so be it.

So, regrets?

“No” she said, taking his hand in hers as she lay her head against his shoulder. “None at all.”

He smiled to himself as her hand began to play with his, the fingers of her left hand gently tracing across his knuckles, the only evidence of her brutal beating last year was the slightly bent pinkie that no matter how much physio she had, she couldn’t extend it fully.  He still got a cold shiver when he thought about how close he had come to losing her. She sighed softly, and he looked down to see she was looking at their intertwined hands and then it struck him just how much he couldn’t wait to tie himself to her for the rest of his life.

“Let’s get married.” He whispered gently into her ear.

“I thought we already were.” She chuckled.

“No, I mean let’s do it. Let’s get a date set, the sooner the better. We were supposed to set one months ago and I don’t want to wait any longer.” “Is that what you want?” She looked up at him smiling.

He nodded “More than anything, Doll.”

“Alright. Let’s do it.” He grinned before his lips met hers, the kiss gentle and soft.

“Any ideas on where?” She asked. As a matter of fact Steve did, the idea had come to him a few days ago, but he wasn’t sure if she was going to go for it.

“Well…I errr…thought, maybe, perhaps we could look at the church my mom used to take me to when I was a kid.” He ran a hand through his hair “That is, if you wanted to.” “Steve that’s a lovely idea.” She smiled and he beamed down at her

“You think?” “Yeah. And I’ve been thinking, maybe, we could have the reception here, in the grounds.” she said, looking at him.

“Here?” Steve frowned, he’d assumed she’d want some kind of hotel booking downtown. But as she spoke, he soon realised that what she was saying made perfect sense, and was more them than any flash place they could hire.

“Think about it.” she said, “No security issues, no press, just us, our friends, family… we can get a marquee by the lake…” Katie paused. As a girl she’d always envisaged a huge, fairy tale wedding with hundreds of guests, in The Rainbow Rooms no less. But now, all she wanted was for those people who meant the world to them to be there to celebrate with them.

“Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded. “Never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“Then I’m fine with that.” He smiled, gently kissing her again.

“So you wanna go see this church?”  she asked.

“What now? It’s barely light…” “So?” she sat up “I’ll take you to IHOP on the way…” “Now you’re talking…”he grinned.

By the time they had showered, which Steve had suggested they do together, to save water and time (although by the time they had finished there was a lot more water and time used up than if they showered alone) and finally dressed it was gone eight, meaning they hit IHOP at just after half past. As they both stuffed their faces, excitedly talking about their clandestine wedding planning Katie was struck with just how young Steve looked. He was dressed casually in a Dodgers T-shirt, jeans, trainers and a baseball cap, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. He was excited.

The church was in a small neighbourhood in Brooklyn and Katie instantly fell in love with the place. St Augustine’s was an old red stone and brick built church with a tall spire. Very Gothic chic, which caught her attention instantly. As Steve climbed out of the car, a rush of memories hit him, the smells, the noises, the sights, everything. It was like he had stepped back in time as he saw his mother grasping his hand softly as she led him up the steps and through the heavy wooden doors. The last time he had set foot in this church, however, had been his mother’s funeral. But now, it was time for something happier.

Steve slipped his arm round Katie.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” Katie said.

Before Steve had chance to reply, a voice with a faint Irish lilt spoke, causing them both to stand and turn to see the Priest walking towards them.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi…” Steve smiled, shaking the priest’s hand “I’m Steve…”

“Rogers, yes I recognised you.” the Priest smiled “Pleasure to meet you Captain.”

Steve shook his hand before the Priest reached out to Katie

“So this would make you Miss Stark?”

“Hi.” she smiled, shaking his hand.

“Charmed…” The Priest smiled, his eyes twinkled as he looked at Katie and she instantly warmed to the man. He wasn’t as old as she had expected, maybe a few years older than Tony, the hair around his temples was greying and his eyes were lined but he had a kind smile.

“So what can I do for you?”

“Well, we…” Steve smiled at Katie before he looked at the Priest. “We’d like to get married here. As soon as we can.” The dark haired man smiled and beckoning for them to follow him to the back of the church “I’m sure we can manage that, let’s see what date’s we have free…”

After chatting to the priest, and settling on a date, Steve was taken by a wave of nostalgia and convinced Katie to drop into the small cemetery on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Weaving their way through the stones he finally stopped in between two well weathered ones, which contained the names of his parents. Crouching down he gently wiped away decades worth of grime and he bowed his head, his eyes wet.

“Hey ma.” He said softly, “brought someone to meet you.”

Katie felt the tears springing into her eyes as she crouched next to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“She’d be so proud of you, Stevie” She said gently, “They both would”

“I hope so.” he said softly and she reached out to turn his head so he was looking at her.

“Baby, how could they not be?”

She gently kissed him before she stood up and made her way to the car, leaving him alone with his thoughts for 10 minutes or so before he came striding out of the yard, and climbed into the driver’s side.

“Could we, maybe update the stones?” he asked after a moments pause “I mean I didn’t have much money back then and I’d like them to have something a bit more, I dunno…” “Of course we can.” she said, tangling her fingers with his, bringing his hand up to her lips so she could kiss his knuckles “Of course we can.”

******

“31st August?” Natasha frowned. She was the first person after Tony who they told they had set a date.

Katie nodded.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s like…well, it’s weeks away!”

“Look, just be grateful it wasn’t sooner. The priest originally offered us a date two weeks off which Steve was all for taking until I persuaded him to give us a bit more time.”

“You know you could have set this date months ago.” Natasha rolled her eyes “Yeah, I know. I mean it’s gonna be a bitch to organise. If only I had a really good almost sister-in-law and a best friend with amazing military like planning skills that could also double up as bridesmaids…” Katie said, eyeing her as they walked. Natasha stopped and turned to face her friend. “You mean…” Katie smiled at her and nodded “If you’re up for the job…”

“I’d be honoured…” she stuttered, before pulling her into a hug, which surprised her slightly but she returned it gladly. “I’ve never been a bridesmaid before.” “There is one condition…” Katie said looking at her “Can you get Wanda involved in the organisation too? Help her with something other than training or whatever…”

Nat smiled “Sure I can handle that.” Natasha’s response was nothing to the one she got from Tony when she asked him to give her away. 

“You know you’re my dad in every way other than actually being my dad…” she said, her fingers on one hand playing with those on the other as she felt her eyes misting “There’s no other person I’d want to walk me up the aisle…” He instantly teared over and pulled her into a hug, not finding his voice for a good 30 seconds as he silently shed his tears over her shoulder.

“I’d be honoured…”he whispered softly, kissing her cheek.

Steve, however wasn’t having as much luck. Rhody, Clint and Sam all accepted his invitations to be Groomsmen (he sent one to Thor via Jane, who also accepted gleefully with a loud, booming phone call) but he was struggling really to decide who to ask as his best man.

His initial thought had been Tony, despite the fact the two of them bitched and bickered at one another, they were close, almost brotherly close. However, given that Tony was giving Katie away in his role as Father/Brother of the Bride that was out. The next obvious choice was Sam, but it all just felt wrong. He was struggling, coming to terms with the fact that his lifelong best friend wouldn’t be the one to do the job.

“I always thought it would be Buck by my side.” he said, looking out over the lawn as he was sat on the patio one evening with Katie, the pair of them with a beer in hand. “He was, is, my oldest friend.”

“Friendship isn’t about who you’ve known for the longest Steve.” Katie said, shrugging “It’s about who came into your life and never left your side.”

Those words had resonated within him, and he realised they made perfect sense. So in the end he did ask Sam, who accepted gleefully. Although when he caught him and Natasha huddled in a corner, looking at something on his phone one afternoon, the pair of them sniggering like a couple of naughty kids he started to wonder what on Earth he had started.

***** Katie sat in front of her mirror and did her hair and make-up before she shrugged on the pale pink jumpsuit she’d bought especially for that evening, slipped her feet into her heels and headed to the living room. It was now 6:30, but knowing Steve as she did, he would no doubt barrel through the door in the next 10 minutes, swearing the way he always did when no one else but she could hear him, shower and be ready to go in 15 minutes flat.

She sighed to herself, she’d had the best day today in a long time. It was the first day in ages she’d had off work and she’d managed to buy her wedding dress. Or should that be Tony had bought her wedding dress courtesy of Pepper and a black Amex.  Wanda and Nat had cruised down to Manhatten with he in the Champagne stocked limo, stopping to pick Pepper up on the way. Once in the boutique, it had taken them a while but Katie had finally settled on one, a gorgeous, sweetheart neckline Ivory A-line with lace detailing all-over the bodice which was decorated with crystals. The skirt flared into layer upon layer of tulle decorated with the same lace detailing and beading with the skirt extending into a layered train at the back.

Steve had also had a reasonably productive day. Given that he, Sam and Rhodey were planning on wearing their Military Uniforms for the wedding and that Thor was going to be in his best Asgardian dress gear this only left Clint and Tony to organise for the suits. Katie had already picked them, simple charcoal pinstripes with ivory and gold waistcoats and light blue ties (light blue, pale red and gold were their colours, being a less gaudy variation of red, white and blue which they had agreed on) so this meant all he had to do was sort a fitting for Clint and Tony.

It had been a lot easier than he had imagined, the store already having Tony’s measurements, (because of course he got all his suits from there) and they also had a sister branch about 30 miles from where Clint lived who could sort it for him. So with that done and completed by lunch time his attention had turned to the meetings he had with General Ross and Rhodey about a potential collaboration programme with some of the Armed Forces Specialists. Now he had one final stop to see how the New Recruits for the support team were getting on.

“Hey,“ Steve said as he strode into the training facility before he smirked and nodded over Sam’s shoulder "I’m assuming you told them to take five?”

A confused frown spread over Sam’s face as he turned to look behind him. Every single one of the recruits was standing right staring wide eyed at the Captain.

“Drills!“ Sam shouted “Or you’ll get another 10 laps of the compound!”

“You’ve taken to this training role far too easily.” Steve grinned at him.

“What can I say, I’m a natural born leader.” he grinned “S’up?”

“I’ve been going through the intel on the Cambodia job.” Steve said. “I know the authorities are insisting its some low times arms dealer thinking he can muscle in on someone else’s patch but something smells off.”

“That’s because it is.” Nat said, walking into the gym, tablet in her hand.

“You got something?” Steve asked and she nodded, handing him the item.

“Cross referenced the MO. Matches an attack on an Army Munitions factory in Calcutta. And one in Tayshet, Russia” she said “And this is the culprit.” Steve looked down at the photo up of a man in what looked like a White Hockey Mask.

“He’s calling himself Crossbones.” Nat said as Sam moved to look at the photo.

“Great…another rogue arms dealer.” Steve rolled his eyes.

Sam snorted “What kind of dumbass name is Crossbones?”

Steve sighed and looked at Natasha “We got any info on who he might be?”

“I contacted a few people.” Nat said vaguely. “One of my contacts came through and says he has something but will only speak in person.”

“How soon can we go?” Steve looked at her.

“I’ll talk to them, see what they say.” She said.

Steve nodded “Ok, well I don’t think it needs the full team so me and you will go, Sam you can hold the fort here. We should only be away for a day or two.”

Sam shrugged “You’re the boss.” “I’ll make a few calls, tell them to expect us.” Nat said. Steve nodded and she straightened up. “You talked to Katie?”

“Not since this morning why?” Steve looked at Nat.

“She got a wedding dress today.”

“She did?” Steve’s face softened just the way it did anytime someone referred to their wedding. “Hang on, am I allowed to know that?” “Think it’s pretty safe to know your future wife’s bought a wedding dress, you know, on account of the fact you’ll be getting married soon.” Sam snorted “You’re just not supposed to see it before hand.”

“How long did she take to pick it?” Steve looked at Natasha, a grin on his face. Natasha smirked back at him.

“Not that long, because I’d already rung and told them the type of thing she like so nothing she tried on was hideous to her. We were in there a couple of hours, then went for some lunch and did a bit more shopping.”  

“Good.” Steve nodded. “She’s been working really hard recently so she deserved a day off. I feel like I’ve hardly seen her over the past few weeks with everything that’s been going on.”

Which reminded him, he couldn’t wait to take her out that night for a well overdue evening together. They’d both been so busy with setting up the compound, her business and he was looking forward to them both escaping the hustle and bustle. Which reminded him, he needed to go.

Nodding to the pair of them, smiling as Sam barked another order, he wandered into the corridor. It seemed a lot less busy than usual. Maybe everyone had taken an early finish for some reason, although he couldn’t think why for a Tuesday. He glanced at his watch and gave a start. “Shit…”

They weren’t taking an early dart, he was taking a late finish.

Katie was sat on the couch, shoes long since abandoned along with any hope that they were actually going anywhere, and was half way through a bottle of very expensive Pinot Grigio that she had bought for them to have once they got home by the time Steve blustered into the apartment.

“Shit, shit…baby I am so sorry!” he said, as Katie looked up, not even able to bring herself to be pissed off anymore, she’d been angry about half an hour ago. Now she was just disappointed. “The meeting with Ross and Rhodey took a bit longer and then something came up on the Cambodia thing” he continued, sighing “Time just got away from me.” he stopped as he drew level with the couch “You look gorgeous.” “Shame it was for nothing” She said, rolling her eyes, turning her attention back to the TV and the re-run of Friends she’d been watching but not paying attention to.

“We can still go…”

“There’s no way we’ll make it.” she said, pointing to the clock with her eyes “Its forty minutes into Manhatten and you need to change.” “I’ll call, push it back…” he said after a moment’s pause. “Just forget it.” she sighed “Honey…” he dropped to his knees in front of her “Don’t be like that…we can go for a drink or something.” “I’m not being like anything.” she snapped back. “You’re the one that told me to ready by seven, well I was…you on the other hand-”

“I know and I’m really sorry.” “I know.” she said, standing up “You said. Look, it doesn’t matter. Not like I had anything special to talk to you about or anything…”

“What do you mean?” He frowned, “What-“

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

“Katie…” he sighed as he rose to his feet too.

“I’m going to get changed and take a dip in the hot-tub with the rest of this bottle of wine and a manuscript, might as well make the most of my spare time” she said, grabbing the ice bucket as she headed to the hallway “Your presence is not required.”

*****

“Uh oh, what you done?” Natasha asked as she walked into Steve’s office the next morning, finding him browsing delivery sites for flowers.

“Last night was supposed to be Date night.” He muttered with a sigh “I was late, and we missed our reservation. First time I’ve ever done that. Katie was not happy.” “So I suppose now isn’t a good time to as if you’re up for a trip to Russia tomorrow.” Nat said, and he let out a groan. Katie had hardly spoken two words to him all evening and this morning before she had left for her office at the other end of the compound. Today was Wednesday, one of the 2 days out of 5 she worked on SIP stuff during the morning, then trained in the afternoon, a way for her to keep her toes in with the Avengers training.

“You’re right, it’s not.” he said, “But she’s pissed at me anyway so…”

“You sure it’s just about date night?” Nat asked, “Not like her to get so annoyed over something like that, especially if, as you say, you’ve never done it before.” “Well like I said yesterday, this place has been taking up a lot of my time” He shrugged. “She’s probably feeling a bit neglected. It’s my fault completely.” 

“Well instead of wasting money on flowers…” Nat said, nodding to his screen. “Go and find her now, take her somewhere for the afternoon. I’m supposed to be sparring with her in 15 minutes, we can reschedule.”

Steve hesitated. “What about…” “I can handle the arrangements for Russia.” Nat said, “Just go.”

Katie’s bad mood hadn’t got any better by the time she finished her work for the morning and it got even worse when she reached the door of the main gym area and paused as one of the new recruits, a girl called Jenny Allen, was midway through a full on bitch rant.  

“Who the hell does she think she is anyway? I mean…” “She’s a damned good agent.” Evan’s voice cut her off “One of the best I worked with, one of the most outstanding snipers I know so…” “Yeah well she still shouldn’t just be allowed to dip into missions as and when? I mean, we all train our asses off and she just walks around, like she’s hot shit just because she was trained by some SHIELD legend when we all know the real reason she was pulled into SHIELD and the Avengers in the first place is because of her name…” “You’re out of line…” “And let’s face it, she’s only here now because she’s engaged to Cap, and owns half the gaff…”

“I mean, they are two pretty good reasons” Katie said, pushing the doors open and walking into the gym. She had to give Allen credit, she started bit but then recovered and stood tall.

“Katie, I…” Evans started but Katie cut him off. “It’s ok…she has an opinion, she’s entitled to it. Say what’s on your mind Allen.” “I just…” she took a deep breath “I don’t like the way you seemingly get to swan into missions, with little to no training like the rest of us. It’s dangerous.” “Dangerous?” Katie folded her arms over her chest.

“Yes, dangerous. You don’t know how we operate as a team, I mean are you still versed in hand to hand?” Versed? What the fuck?

Katie raised her eyebrow and smirked at Evans who instantly spotted the look on her face. Fuck this, she’d been waiting to give Allen a smack since she had caught her batting her eyelids at Steve, practically trying to climb him when he’d been running over a report with her. What better way was there to fix a bad mood?

“I tell you what.” Katie said “why don’t we find out? I’m due to spar with Widow but you’ll do.” “I err…” Allen hesitated slightly. “Nova I don’t think that’s a good idea?” Evans cut int. “I mean…” “No.” Allen said, straightening up. “It’s fine…I’m game.” Katie turned to drop her water on a bench and started to wrap her hands in the bandages she had.

“Go easy on her…” Evans whispered in Katie’s ear. She looked at him innocently.

The pair of them started to circle and Katie waited, waited like she always did for her opponent to make the first move. She watched, quickly noting that the woman favoured her right, so she was right handed. She was also a bit taller than Katie, and stockier but that wasn’t an issue, she’d floored Sam before and Evans come to think of it.

As Allen came in with a right lead, Katie ducked and aimed a harsh left jab at her mid-section, causing the woman to let out a gasp of air. She recovered fast, coming in again and Katie moved to the right so the blow glanced off her ribs and aimed a kick to her right knee, causing her to stumble slightly. As she straightened Katie was waiting and landed a hard jab straight to her face, causing her to reel as her nose began billowing crimson. There were hisses from the watching recruits and she vaguely registered Evans to tell her to take it easy but she wasn’t listening. Allen wiped at her face and came at Katie, full on, which was what she had wanted, she’d riled her enough to make her want to fight fierce but as she came Katie threw herself to the left and swept both legs from under her. She crashed to the mat and in an instant Katie had her on her front, knee in her back as she yanked her arms back.

“You’re right…” Katie bent over, lips close to her ear as she struggled, making Katie pull even more “I do own half this gaff, and my brother owns the other half. Something you need to remember when shooting your mouth off, and trying to climb my fiancée in his office…” “I wasn’t-.” she protested and Katie cut her off with another yank.

“If you so much as utter another word commenting on my fighting skills again. I will rip your arms out of your sockets, right before I have you escorted out of my compound, you got that?” “Yeah I got it.”

Steve paused at the sight in front of him. Following Natasha’s advice he’d headed to the gym, ready to take his girl out for the afternoon, only to find her pinning Allen to the floor, the woman’s arms yanked behind her back and her nose bleeding on the mat.

“I tried to stop them…” Evans looked up at Steve who made a noise in his throat and strode towards the two women. “Katie that’s enough!” his voice rang out loud across the gym.  “What the hell is going on?” “Allen had some worries I wasn’t field ready.” Katie let go and easily got to her feet, looking at him, a flash of anger in her eyes, the fact he had used his Captain’s voice on her hadn’t gone unnoticed. “So I offered to show her, put her mind at ease.”

“Yeah well I think you’ve made your point.” he said, looking at Allen as she stood up holding tight to her nose, pressing firmly to either side to try and staunch the flow of blood from the single quick right straight Katie had hit her with before the take down.

“Do you need medical Allen?” Steve asked. She shook her head. He turned his attention to Katie, and glared at her “I don’t know what the hell is going on here…” “I just told you.” she shot back. “I was showing how field versed I was…” “By punching her in the face?” he said, his hands falling to his belt. Katie folded her arms and glared back at him.

“We were sparring.” “You were trying to rip her arms out of the sockets…”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Katie rolled her eyes earning herself a glower, a look which would quell anyone else but not her, she wasn’t scared of him. “Maybe now she’ll think twice about making shitty comments.” “If someone punched you every time you made a shitty comment you’d never get up.” he said back, no trace of humour in his voice, because he didn’t find the issue funny at all. He eyed her again before he nodded to the door “Go.” Was he serious? One look in his eyes told Katie he was. 

“Fine.” she shrugged, picking up her water bottle before she left. Natasha, who noticed the tears in her eyes went to stop her but Katie waved her away. Steve watched her back before he turned to Evans, pointing to Allen

“Patch her up and then I’ll see both of you in my office. AND GET BACK TO WORK!” he bellowed round the room.

Evans and Allen both nodded and left.

Steve noticed Natasha was looking at him from the doorway, arms folded.

“Got something to say, Romanoff?” he asked, snappily.

“What could I possibly have say when you handled that so well?” she asked sarcastically. “FYI, you might want to take your shield back home with you later, I can’t expect Nova’s gonna take to being stripped down in front of people so well…” She levelled Steve with another look before she left and he let out a groan of frustration. Could this get any worse?

By the time he got back to his office both Evans and Allen were waiting. And when Evans explained what Allen had been saying, Steve was even more frustrated as he wasn’t surprised Katie had reacted the way she did, not that it made it right, just a little more understandable. He unloaded on the woman, gave her a verbal warning and then dismissed them both. Then, deciding it was time to face the music at home he headed to their apartment.

Katie had made it back to their quarters before she had burst into tears. She knew she was being unreasonable in a lot of ways. The Compound was still finding its feet, so of course it wasn’t going to run like clockwork and obviously Steve was going to be working long hours. She was too, she wasn’t completely innocent in that respect. The issue was him missing date night was something he had never done before and it had surprised her a lot. Was she getting less important to him as the time went on? 

Angrily she stripped off, changed into her bikini top and her denim shorts before she grabbed her book intending on heading out to the patio area to top up her tan in the August sun.

She was in the kitchen, grabbing herself a beer when Steve came back.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No.” Her tone was clipped, “But thanks for asking.”

He rolled his eyes “Katie…”

“Excuse me.” She went towards the door, but he didn’t move.

“Steve, get out of my way.”

He still didn’t move. “No, you’re not going anywhere until we sort this out.”

She groaned and looked up to the ceiling.

“Wanna tell me what your problem is?” he asked

“Right now, you, not letting me out of this fucking room.” she sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“Look, I know you’re pissed at me for last night and I get that, but..”

“That is not the problem!”

“Then what is?” He shot back, somewhat exasperatedly. “Honey, I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what I’m supposed to be fixing…”

” That!” she looked at him, her voice loud “That is the problem! That you have no fucking idea what the matter is! You’re so wrapped up in running this place I hardly get a look in. You don’t ask for my input, you don’t involve me in anything…”

“Woah, now hang on.” He stepped forward. “When we moved here you said you didn’t want to run anything…”

“And then you order me out of the fucking room in front of the damned trainees!”

“Yeah well you can’t just kick the crap out of one of my team members like that”

“Yeah well your team member is an asshole.” Katie rolled her eyes. “She deserved it for being a dick…”

She took the opportunity to dodge round him and out of the doorway he had vacated when he stepped into the kitchen and made her way to the doors at the back.

“Right now you’re being a dick”

“I’m not. I just don’t want to play second fiddle to your fucking Army Camp anymore.” “Army Camp?” he let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Yes Army Camp” she said, spinning round.

“You’re being ridiculous.” he shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “Absolutely ridiculous.” “And that doesn’t help!” she glowered at him “When I’m pissed off or upset, you telling me I’m being ridiculous…” “Well you are…” A chuckle escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

“Stop fucking laughing at me!” She yelled, the heat rising up her neck and to my ears. He was really, really pissing her off, her could see it on her face he took a deep breath as she continued. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me this whole thing isn’t about reclaiming some of that time and life that was stolen from you?”

“You think…” He stopped and cocked his head to one side, trying to make sense of what she was saying “You think that this, all of this…” he waved his arms around “Is some kind of trip down memory lane?” “Well isn’t it?” He shook his head, snorting, giving her comment the contempt it deserved. “You couldn’t be further off the mark if you tried.”

“Well from what I see it looks like you’re simply trying to re-live your Howling Commando days.” She snapped back “And I have news for you Steve, I’m not Peggy, no matter how much you wish I was.”

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them and they felt like a slap to his face. But instead of it upsetting him, he found himself boiling over with anger at how fucking ridiculous she was being. They had been through this time and time again, he’d shown her and told her at Clint’s she as the most important thing in his life, hell, they were getting married in less than three weeks for fucks sake, what else did he need to do?

“That’s out of order and you know it.” His voice was low. What do I have to do to make you realise you are what I want? Not Peggy, you…”

Suddenly the shitty nature of her words began to sink in and Katie found herself unable to look at him anymore, so she turned her head to the side. So he crossed the room and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing her to look at him. As she looked back his jaw twitched slightly, a mixture of hurt and anger in his eyes, the furious energy radiating off him and then that ridiculous part of Katie’s brain that controlled her libido piped up, this was fucking hot. Her breathing hitched slightly and he felt it too.

“Fine, if that’s what you want…” he practically growled as his lips crashed onto hers and before she could even think to kiss him back, he pulled away - leaving her wanting and moving toward him to try and catch his lips again. Her hands reached for his face, desperately trying to bring him back to her. At the motion, his hands grabbed her wrists and forced them back to her sides, clearly, but wordlessly telling her who was in charge.

There was a slight pause between them, both trying to catch their breath from the row that had just occurred and from the searing kiss he had just delivered. Then their lips found one another again, his hands moving to her waist to both pull her closer and he began to tug at her clothes. Getting the hint, she acted in tandem, hands falling to the clip on his utility belt, fumbling with it for a second in her rush before successfully releasing it and then going for the flies on his uniform pants. Steve popped the button on her denim shorts and in a quick swoop shoved them and her bikini bottoms down as they both stumbled around the room.

He took hold of her hips again so to manoeuvre her wherever he wanted. They continued to stumble around the room for a moment before he took control and roughly picked her up. Her bare legs immediately wrapped around his still fully uniformed waist and her arms went around his neck as he slammed her up against the wall at the far side of the lounge and, using it as support he shifted his grip from under her ass. One hand went to her hip while the other pried her hands from the back of his neck. He was able to hold both of her wrists together with one of his hands, placing them up above her head and holding them there tightly.

This was angry sex, not make up sex, this was utter ‘I’m so fucking angry at you so I’m gonna show you.’ sex. Well, she was angry too so there was no way he was having this all his own way.

She rolled her hips, hard against him which was enough to get his attention but he simply used his free hand to shove her legs off of him. Katie managed to catch herself on her feet, only slightly bumping against the wall but before she had chance to think his lips found hers again, hungrily kissing her while his hand skated over her bare stomach. She arched into the touch, wanting him to move a bit south, but his hand stopped an inch away from where she wanted it to be.

“Say you’re sorry.” his voice was right by her ear, rougher than she could ever remember it being before. Rough enough to make a shiver go down her spine and for her to try and thrust into his hand, desperate for any sense of relief. But he pulled even further away from her, making her whine a bit. “You’re sorry and you believe me…”

“I’m sorry.” she breathed out, stumbling over her words “And I believe you…”

He surged forward, kissing her desperately and she openly moaned into his mouth as two of his fingers slipped inside of her. His motions were fast and aggressive and he brought her to the brink, and then stopped.

“Do you still believe me?” he breathed out, voice ragged. “Tell me you do and you want this.” The fucker was still making a point but by now Katie really didn’t care.

“Stevie, please.” she thrust her hips out toward him, gasping “I still believe you, I want you.”

It was want, not need. And that didn’t escape his notice. He knew which one he would prefer to hear, to be wanted over needed any day.

He couldn’t help the soft smirk on his face as he braced one hand on the wall beside her head, the other harshly yanked one of her legs up so that it wrapped around his waist. Reaching into his pants he freed his now painfully hard erection from them and didn’t even pause before slamming into her, making her cry out sharply, one hand going to grip his bicep, the other against the wall to steady herself. He slammed into her over and over with such force that she was sure she was about to go through the wall itself and into the hall.

Desperate to be both closer to him and not to actually go through the wall, because that would be awkward to explain, not mention painful, Katie tried to lean in more to him. The motion made him go deeper inside of her, which caused her to moan at the feeling. At that point Steve quickly removed his hand from the wall and lifted her off her feet. Their chests pressed together, the bare skin of her stomach rubbing against the harsh Kevlar of his uniform, both messily kissing each other as Steve stumbled around the main area of the lounge before toppling over the arm of the couch where Katie ended up on top. Even then he continued his aggressive thrusts, his hands on her hips, pulling her down as he drove upwards.

She let out a small groan, the roughness of his pants was grinding against her clit along with the fact he was bottoming out inside her, hitting her spot again and again.

“Shit, Captain…” she hissed and the noise made him slam up even harder, fuck he loved it when she said that when he was being tough. She let out a loud scream and tightened around him and at the feel of her walls clamping down, which was fucking bliss as always, his thrusts upwards became desperate as he chased his own end,  before he gave a loud “fuck…” and he came, hard as she collapsed on top of him.

The pair of them lay, utterly spent and his hands gently ran up her spine as her face pushed into his neck.

“Still pissed at me?” he murmured.

“In a fashion.” she responded as she picked her head from her shoulder and rolled to the side so she was between him and the back of the couch. He moved so they were facing each other, gently nudging her nose with his.

“Can we talk this over like adults now?” his voice was still quite stern. Katie bit her lip as she looked at him and he sighed, his voice becoming softer “I hate rowing with you. But I still don’t know what’s going on. Please talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t have ordered me out.” she said.

“You broke Allen’s nose.” Katie had to fight the smirk crossing her face. Good shot.

“it’s not funny.” “It is.” Katie said “She deserved it.”

After what Evans had told him, Steve kind of agreed to be fair and Katie saw his face soften slightly. “Evans told me what she said.” Steve brushed her hair behind her ears “For what its worth she’s had an official warning.” “Did you go all Cap on her?” Katie raised an eyebrow “Bet she loved that…” “What do you mean?” “Oh come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed…”she snorted before putting on an airy voice “oh Cap…that’s so funny. Hey Cap, can you show me how to do this take down. Oh Cap, you’re such a good teacher… she was practically trying to climb you the other day in your office.” “You’re jealous…” he smirked.

“I don’t like people touching my stuff.” she sighed “Especially not some 28 year old blond bombshell.” “Blond bombshell?” he snorted.

“What? She’s hot.” I shrugged “I’d do her.” His eyes flashed cheekily “Now there’s an image.” She narrowed her eyes at him and he laughed before sighing again.

“Listen to me…” he said, his hand then coming up to caress the side of her face as he looked at her, driving his words home. “You are the most important thing in the world to me and there’s no other girl that comes close, not matter what you think. Not Allen, not Peggy, no one. And as for playing second fiddle…” he gestured with his spare hand around the room. “Say the word and this all goes.”

“Yeah right. You’ll never give up being Captain America…”

“I would for you.” He said simply.

Katie looked at him, he’d shocked her, but he meant every word. If he had to give all this up, he would. He didn’t want to but, he would. The magnitude of what he had just admitted took a while to sink in, but when it did Katie was overcome with emotion, and the tears pricked at her eyes.

“Hey, come on.” Steve let out a soft sigh, as he held her close, rubbing his hands softly up her back. “You wanna tell me why last night was such a big deal, and yeah, I know that I messed up but, well I’m getting the feeling there’s a little more to it.”

With a deep breath she pulled back and licked her lips. “I err, I just wanted to tell you something and I wanted it to be special because I know how much it means to you, but, well, I made a decision on my name. You mean everything to me, Steve, and when we get married I wanna give everything to you, so, I wanna be Mrs Rogers.”

Her words took a moment to sink in and once they did, a huge grin spread across Steve’s face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling. “We’re tying ourselves together for life and I want everyone to know that I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“I’ll always be yours, Baby.” He whispered, as she leaned in to kiss him, as he wrapped an arm around her waist while one of her legs slithered in between his.

Soft, gentle kisses were shared as Katie gently reached for the zip of his uniform top, undoing it and then guiding his undershirt over his head as he undid his pants fully, shimmying out of them before he guided her onto her back while he shifted so he was caging her in between his legs. This time the mood passion, not anger.

“You have no idea what you do to me…” he whispered gently into her ear as he undid the strings on her bikini top leaving them both completely bare. She let out a groan as she titled her hips up. He closed his eyes as her hand came to rest on his cheek and he leaned into the touch as he shifted so her legs parted and he was inside of her again.

Tilting her head back at the feeling left her neck exposed, which Steve took advantage of in pressing soft kisses up her throat. His hand snaked up her arm so he could intertwine his fingers with hers. He slowly rolled his hips against hers, instead of the frantic rhythm he had prior. The hand that wasn’t entwined with hers went to her hip, pulling her closer as he thrust deeply, gently, slowly, each roll of his hips hitting her spot as he continued over and over again, head dropping to my neck, collar bone and breasts which he had paid no attention to before.

“Stevie, you feel so good…” Katie moaned and he let out a groan of his own at her words. When her orgasm rolled over her again, this one not as ferocious as before, but no less pleasurable she melted underneath him, breathless, her hand running through his hair as he came again, collapsing on top of her

The moments after they finished were always their favourite. The quiet bliss that surrounded them like a bubble, keeping them safe from the world.

“I love you.” Katie said softly. He picked his head up from where he had it buried in the crook of her neck so he could meet her eyes.

“I love you too.” he responded, pushing some hair out of her face, thumb circling her cheek. “I can’t wait to make you Mrs Rogers.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over hers.

**** Chapter 26

**Original Posting**

[princpiration]

Kingdom of Losers

A Creativitwins Oneshot

Word count: 2,065

Summary: Remus finds something unexpected in his side of the Imagination

Warnings: mention of injury, blood, disturbing imagery, Remus being Remus, alcohol mention, self deprecation, Roman angst, morally grey Remus (he’s not very empathetic and maybe even a little mean? But in a way that siblings tend to be imo), if there’s something you want tagged feel free to ask me 

A/N:This has been in my drafts forever, I wrote it basically as practice and it’s the first fanfic I’ve ever completed. I had fun while writing it but I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it now? I might as well publish it anyway as a rite of passage, critique is welcome? (Set after POF but doesn’t reference it directly (Please don’t tag as r//mr//m))

Remus was in the Imagination, doing cartwheels on a trail of broken glass through a dank forest when he found something he didn’t recall having made.

That in and of itself wasn’t particularly strange, as most of his creations were done spontaneously in a frenzy of inspiration and then quickly forgotten about as he inevitably got distracted by something else.

But the thing-he-didn’t-remember-making stood out enough to catch him off-guard, and he stumbled, falling face first into the broken glass and sliding a few yards, leaving a messy trail of blood and teeth behind him. He lifted his head, blinked the shards out of his eyes, and looked at the thing.

It was a castle, or the ruined remains of one at least, surrounded by thorns and brambles. There was a distinct lack of entrails and body parts skewered on the foliage, and no blood or ichor seeping from the castle walls, so it couldn’t be one of Remus’ creations.

Must be Roman’s, he thought to himself, face splitting into a manic grin. He jumped to his feet, wiped his bloody hands on his pants, and his bloody face with his sleeve as he began to look for a way in.

The two Creativities tended to keep to their own parts of the Imagination, Roman especially preferring to stay as far away as possible from his twin’s domain, so seeing him essentially trespassing like this was exceedingly intriguing.  

As well as a rare opportunity for some brotherly bonding, though the Duke’s idea of it usually included a lot more violence. Or maybe not that much more violence, sibling-relationships were weird like that.

He circled the structure twice but was unable to find an entrance, so he shrugged his shoulders and just dove straight into the thorny vines, using them as a makeshift ladder to climb the castle wall.

Prince Philip ain’t got nothing on me! he snickered to himself as he flung himself on top of the wall, perching like a gargoyle statue upon it and surveying the area.

The roof was completely gone, as were most of the inner walls. The floor was covered in fallen leaves and there was this pristine gloominess that permeated the place, like something from a gothic romance novel.

Remus scrunched his nose and stuck out his tongue at it, thinking Yeah, this place could definitely use a few mutilated corpses.

Something caught his eye then, in the middle of what seemed to have once been a throne room.

Was that … a Chaise Lounge?

It was. In the middle of the ruined throne room, standing on the leaf-covered floor, was a single maroon-colored Chaise Lounge. And lying recumbent upon it was Prince Roman, wine glass in hand and gaze pointed up at the grey skies above him.

Normally Remus would’ve launched himself from the wall by now, screeching like a demon as he descended upon his unsuspecting brother to try and claw his eyes out. You know, as one usually does when finding their sibling trespassing in their domain.

But something about the way that Roman was just lying there, still as a statue, made Remus hesitate.

He blinked once, then slithered down the wall and proceeded to sneak into the throne room, unheeded by his brother who kept his gaze locked at the cloud-covered sky. As he got closer he could see the dark crescents under the Prince’s eyes, and the dull, faraway look in them as well. The Duke contemplated the best way to get his twin’s attention, settling for the most straightforward one.

“INTRUDER!” Remus shrieked, startling Roman and making him nearly drop his wineglass. He shot up and looked around frantically before spotting his brother. He rolled his eyes, slumped back into the sofa and let out a deep sigh.

“Announcing yourself now, Remus?” he muttered, taking a minuscule sip of his beverage. “What are you even doing here?” he asked, giving his twin a tired look. Remus blinked back at him.

“What am I doing here?” he replied, pointing to himself with all fingers. “I’m the one who should be asking you that! In fact, I think I will! What are you doing here Pecorino Romano?” Remus asked, pointing at his twin. Roman stared at his brother perplexedly.

“What do you mean? This is my castle,” he said and looked around, “or what’s left of it anyway…”

“I know that, Roma-nobody-likes-you! I meant what are you and your once-cast-ler doing in my side of the Imagination?” Remus shot back, seeing Roman wince at the nickname. Remus mentally pumped his fist in victory, he had to remember that one for later.

Roman frowned and swirled his glass, watching the red liquid slosh around as he seemed to mull over the question. “I…” he started, clearing his throat, “I hadn’t realized I’d gotten this close to the border, I guess…” he finished, eyes downcast.

Remus perched himself on one of the armrests, leaning his head in one hand, and Roman silently adjusted his position to make room for him, or at least get his legs out of the way of any Duke related mischiefs.

“Border, huh?” Remus thought out loud, picking his nose and relishing in the disgusted look Roman gave him. “I guess the divide was blurrier than we thought,” he cocked his head and stared at his twin, who hummed noncommittally. 

“Guess so,” Roman replied, tracing the rim of his wineglass with his finger, producing a single note he unconsciously began to harmonize with.

Remus’s eyes started to twitch and he closed them, sliding himself down the armrest to properly slouch on the sofa, finger still buried in his nostril. “So technically we’re in neither’s domain, a no-man’s-land of the Imagination! A Kingdom of Losers!” he hollered proudly. “Guess I don’t need to kill you for trespassing then!”

He flicked his booger at his brother, who managed to dodge it despite his reclined position. It landed on the floor and bounced several feet before disappearing amongst the leaves.

Pity, Remus thought, but it was worth it for the absolute scandalized look that graced Roman’s features. The Duke leaned back in his seat, putting both of his hands behind his head as he squinted at the Prince.

“I could still do it though, for fun. Killing you, that is,” he added, looking up at the sky. “You wish,” Roman scoffed back. Remus flipped him off, not taking his eyes from the clouds, and they lapsed into silence halfway between awkward and comfortable, both brothers gazing at the grey above.

What if it started raining blood and teeth?

The Duke grinned as he saw, and felt, the tell-tale signs of blood-rain (or hemo-rain if you will) mixed with human teeth. Unfortunately, his prissy brother kept it from hitting either him or the furniture, which was pretty lame and boring if you asked him (no one ever did).

The pitter-patter of the hemo-rain faded, leaving only the sound of Roman tapping his nails against his glass.

“What’s in that glass of yours anyway?” Remus asked, spreading his arms behind the back of the sofa. “Gatorade? Soup? Blood?”

“It’s a Cabernet Sauvignon, thank you very much,” Roman replied haughtily.

“Sounds fake.”

“It is not! It’s one of the most widely used grapes for red wine!”

Remus tapped a finger against his chin. “So, it sounds super fancy and shit, but it’s actually pretty basic? Fits you perfectly then!” he cackled, casting a sidelong glance at Roman.

Said Side lifted his hand, finger pointing upwards like he was about to come up with a witty retort when he suddenly froze. The fire in his eyes died out, replaced by that same dull faraway look from before. He let his hand fall limp to his side, as he all but collapsed back into the sofa. He let out a long, beleaguered sigh, and his eyelids fell shut.

“Yeah, maybe it does…” he murmured, voice small and quiet.

Remus frowned. Well, that was no fun. He tilted his head and looked at Roman, who still held the wineglass loosely in his grip.

“Didn’t take you for a wine drinker, honestly,” he stated simply, sniffing loudly. Roman let out a breath that had the shape of a laugh but not the joy of one.

“I’m not, really, it’s just been…” he let out another sigh, “…a day,” he finished flatly.

Yeesh, Remus did not like this version of Roman, he was way too boring. He was about to tell him just that but got cut off by his brother blurting out:

“Do you ever wonder what it was like?”

The Duke blinked one eye at a time. “Like what?”

“You know, back then, before the uhm,” Roman waved his hand aimlessly, “before the… split,” he finished, curling his index- and middle-finger halfheartedly on the last word.

“You mean when Thomas had just one Creativity?” Remus questioned, and Roman nodded.

Huh. Hm. Remus scratched his head, dandruff falling from it like snow.

If he was honest, there was a lot about the whole split-thing that was a bit hazy, as it ostensibly happened before any of them had a physical form, let alone awareness of their own existence.

How had four-eyes put it? They had been like an ovum, or zygote or whatever, split in the middle, two not-so-identical halves of an alleged whole.

It was stupid. As far as Remus was concerned, he had always been Remus, and Roman had always been Roman, and that was that. He made a fart noise with his mouth.

“Nope!” he said easily, crossing one leg over the other, dangling his foot. Roman looked up at him, surprise painting his otherwise blank expression.

“Why not?” he asked, sitting up slightly. “You mean you never feel incomplete-” he started, but flinched at his choice of word. Roman looked up at his brother, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“Don’t you want to be… whole again?” he all but whispered and looked away. Remus pretended to think for a second.

“Hell no!” he exclaimed, putting his hands back behind his head. Roman whipped his head around to stare at his twin brother incredulously. Remus gave him his smuggest smile.

“Full offense, but you’re kinda lame Ro,” he said, stretching languidly on the Chaise Lounge, “and it would totally ruin my whole vibe if we became one Creativity again or whatever, so no thanks, I’m good! Or, well, you know what I mean!” He winked at Roman, who just stared back at him with a blank face.  

“There’s no going back to what was before, Bro-man, sucks for you maybe, but I happen to like being myself!” he finished, gesturing one hand over his reclined form.

He expected Roman to roll his eyes at his antics, to frown at his insults or sigh dramatically.

He did not expect the slight curl to the side of Roman’s mouth, his face lighting up in a tiny smile.

“That’s… good,” he said softly, tilting his wineglass to his lips, “that’s good to hear.”

He took a swig of his wine, the small smile still there on his face, looking happier than he’d been for a long time.

Remus gagged. “Ugh. If you’re gonna be this gross about it then I’m out!” he announced, sprang up from the sofa and began strutting out of the room with his hands in the air.

“See you around, Prince of Losers!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the throne room. 

“I sincerely hope not, Duke of Losers!” came Romans reply, sounding a bit more like his usual pompous self. 

Remus gave his brother a backward-double-bird-salute as he rounded the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight he took a running start, hurled himself onto the wall, and scrambled up it like a human-sized gecko. When he was about to leap off the top and back into the dank woods on his part of the Imagination, he hesitated again and turned back to look at his twin.

Roman was still lying in his Chaise Lounge, wineglass in his hand. But he wasn’t looking at the grey sky above him anymore, he was looking at Remus, his twin, his brother, his co-ruler of this Kingdom of Losers.

The Duke pulled a face on the Prince and blew a raspberry before he jumped off the castle walls and scurried on all fours back into the forest.

———

Thank you for reading!

[jaskiersvalley]

*soft footsteps* *throws bucketfuls of finger guns at you* *blows you a kiss* *whispers* i’m terrible with words but i really really love your writing *hugs you through the screen* *toddles away*

*reels you back in for a big hug* You! You speak my language, Nonnie! Toddle yourself back here and let me shower you with the right amount of love. You’re amazing with words and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!

As thanks, I’m now going to dump an idea I’ve been sitting on for a while. It’s soulmates, platonic Jaskier/Eskel, mistaken identities and soft desperation before that good old Geraskier hits with a bit of Eskel/Lambert for good measure.

Tattoos representing soulmates roved the skin of pretty much everyone on the continent. Jaskier had been born with a haggard looking wolf that prowled over his body, preferring to sulk on his shoulder blade. Growing up, he often wondered who could be such a grouch and a recluse. It was pure chance that he was playing at a tavern when a witcher stomped in, creature’s head in hand. The first thing that caught Jaskier’s eye about him was the scars down his face. A quick second was the medallion of a wolf on his chest. While the world didn’t tilt or realign as he’d imagined, Jaskier still launched into a song about death and foreboding - it seemed appropriate for a witcher.

Said witcher’s name was Eskel. He raised an eyebrow at Jaskier when he approached but didn’t turn him away when shown the wolf peering at the world from a pale wrist. It didn’t help that he had a black crow hopping up his neck to inspect the goings on of the world.

They agreed to see what happened. After all, Eskel did almost fit the wolf on Jaskier’s skin. While the crow seemed oddly fitting for Jaskier’s first song. So they travelled together, grew close. They never hesitated in sharing warmth, sitting shoulder to shoulder by a fire in the wilderness. It was an easy friendship, both of them just desperate enough to want to believe they’d found their other half. Even if Jaskier was too chirpy to truly be a crow and Eskel too broad to ever be a wolf.

Just once they tried to kiss. It would have been so much better if they could have blamed alcohol on their attempt. However, the only thing they’d had was the vast, open skies above them and a fire crackling to keep them warm. Neither of them knew who started it but one minute they were talking, Jaskier pulling threads of a tale from Eskel. Next, they were kissing and freezing. After an awkward second where they realised it wasn’t what either of them wanted, they broke apart and stared into the fire.

“So that happened,” Eskel observed.

“Yep.” Jaskier rubbed the back of his head. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Quite. Maybe we’re one of those rare pairs. You know, the kind that love each other but only outside of the bedroom.”

That sounded most sensible and Jaskier nodded. They never mentioned the kiss again but never tried again either. Platonic soulmates - there had to be some great irony to that, given how much Jaskier appreciated all pleasures in the world. Still, if he and his soulmate weren’t destined for the kind of relationship he’d hoped for, that was okay. At least Eskel wanted him in some capacity.

As time passed, Jaskier wrote more songs of his wolf, sang them and meant every word from the bottom of his heart. From tavern to court, they follow Eskel’s path and they’re content. There’s an understanding that blossomed between them that Jaskier wouldn’t trade for the world.

It had been years before Eskel finally asked Jaskier about Kaer Morhen and the potential of wintering there. He hadn’t wanted to go recently, trying to protect his soulmate from months on end of only witchers for company. On top of that, Eskel had been the first and only witcher to find and keep his soulmate as far as he was aware. He didn’t want to rub it in.

Still, they returned to the old keep together and they were the first back aside from Vesemir who just looked at the two of them, sent Eskel what could only be interpreted as a despairing look and wished them all the best. Jaskier got his own room next door to Eskel’s and they waited to see if any other witcher turned up.

They were all in the small hall, Vesemir telling the tale about a manticore when the doors clanged, announcing the arrival of someone. They crowded out and Jaskier forgot how to breathe. Another witcher, long white hair and a frown that seemed permanently etched on his face. Just the sight of him had Jaskier’s heart thumping painfully in his chest. It was like a veil had been torn from his very being, everything felt so much more vibrant. Things only got more confusing when a nonpareil fluttered excitedly over his lower arm. They stared at each other until Vesemir cleared his throat.

One look at Eskel and Jaskier’s heart cracked. Everyone in the room knew. The illusion they had built up over the years about being soulmates was a lie and now it was exposed.

That evening, Eskel knocked on Jaskier’s door and gave him a sad smile.

“Go to him. Go to your white wolf,” he said, lips turned up into a bittersweet smile and eyes brimming with tears. Jaskier pulled him into a hug.

“You’re still my first wolf and my best friend. Soulmate or not, I picked you first.” However, Jaskier couldn’t deny his interest in Geralt. It was his true soulmate there and he wanted.

There was a weighted sadness to Kaer Morhen over the next couple of days. Geralt and Jaskier spent time together, got to know each other. One night, Jaskier didn’t return to his own room and nobody mentioned it. Nor the bite marks on his neck the next morning.

The sound of the main doors closing echoed through the keep once again and they all crowded towards the newest arrival. Jaskier was curious about the witcher. Just a scarred as the rest, he greeted Geralt with a gruff bumping of shoulders. Vesemir got a nod but Eskel got a hug. Something almost tender and soft.

A glance at Vesemir and Jaskier got a shake of a head. He would press for information later but there was no denying that both Lambert and Eskel looked so much more mellow in each other’s company.

It was after dinner, everyone sprawled around the fire. Jaskier had taken up residence between Geralt’s legs, back to his chest. Meanwhile Lambert and Eskel were sprawled next to each other. They were shoulder to shoulder, Lambert in a sleeveless top showing off his bear tattoo which seemed to be content to curl up where Eskel’s shoulder touched. Personally, Jaskier wouldn’t have been surprised if Eskel’s crow wasn’t preening on the other side of his shirt, the two tattoos touching.

“Two witchers involved, it was so very frowned upon,” Vesemir sighed as he watched them doze. “I’m not sure if they even realise they’re destined. Their teachers instilled a lot of stupid shit in them. How witchers were never bonded to each other and if they were, the bond would fizzle out and die because....I can’t even remember why.”

All Jaskier was hearing was that he needed to get involved. It didn’t take much wheedling to get Geralt to train with Lambert while Vesemir oversaw them. Which meant that Eskel was free for Jaskier to ambush.

“So, Lambert?” He asked with a curious gaze.

“What about him? You’ve already found your wolf.” Eskel looked a little defensive and Jaskier knew he’d hit a sore spot.

“While you may not be a wolf, I think that you might be more of a bear.”

A scoff and a shake of head was his reply.

“I don’t know what you’re implying but I think you’re mistaken.”

Which just wouldn’t do. Jaskier sighed as he realised that maybe Eskel already knew. “Don’t deny yourself happiness just because some old fart told you something was impossible.” With that, Jaskier stood up and squeezed Lambert’s shoulder. “Your crow is right in front of you. Don’t let him fly away.”

Nothing seemed to change after that little chat. At least, not at first. But, as time passed, there was a softening. Lambert and Eskel moved around each other with more ease, there were lingering touches and smiles that were never directed at anyone else.

“Finally,” Vesemir sighed one morning and Geralt nodded with a grunt but not moving his head from Jaskier’s lap.

“They’ve finally confessed.”

Jaskier was both delighted and confused as to how the other two seemed to know.

“Witcher hearing.” Watching them, Jaskier saw both Geralt and Vesemir frown. Obviously they could hear more than love confessions all of a sudden and Jaskier laughed. He urged Geralt to sit up and grabbed his lute. The least he could do was give Eskel some privacy and spare the precious witcher ears in his company by drowning out whatever they could hear.

When the two finally made it downstairs, they tried to act like nothing was different. But there was no denying the almost giggling grins they shot each other, nor the fact that they were so happy. It wasn’t like anyone could begrudge them. Not when everyone seemed to have their soulmate by their side after so many years of detours and false hopes.

[deathsmallcaps]

@boopboopboopbadoop

April’s Story

Shrek premiered 20 years ago this month! So I decided to honor it with my own illustrated version of the movie for my Win A Commission Contest! If you’d like to see the illustrations in context with the text, please

Once upon a time, there was a lovely Princess

But she had an enchantment upon her of an awful sort, that could only be broken by True Love's First Kiss

She was Locked away in a tower, guarded by a terrible fire-breathing Dragon

Many brave Knights had attempted to free from this dreadful prison, but none prevailed

She waited in the Dragon's keep, in the tallest room of the tallest tower. Where she waited for her True Love and True Love's First Kiss...

A large green hand ripped a page from the Book and revealed another part involving the whole kingdom celebrating on the Princess and her True Love's wedding day, laughing heartily as he slammed it shut.

"Like that's ever gonna happen!" A Scottish voice said dismissively. "What a load of-" A flush of a Toilet drowned out the last part of the sentence.

We look and see an outhouse. It was made of white birch wood, lashed together with a rope for a handle and a black crescent moon facing the right. There was some hanging moss on the tilted roof growing and a pathway of stones, weeds crowding in between. It was set right in front of a thick wood, facing towards a house. The strange thing about all of this is that the outhouse had plumbing with a flushing toilet.

The door slammed open, revealing no Prince Charming nor a Frog, but an Unlikely Hero: an Ogre. Yawning and stretching out before fixing his wedgie, he shook off a ripped page that was sticking to his shoe and stared at his house.

He lived in a giant, white, hollowed out mangrove tree, the trunk thinning out into a perfect chimney. Moss, ivy and weeds grew all around or on top of it, and there was a crude door and some small windows set into the side.

The Ogre breathed in and left the outhouse with the door slamming behind him as he began his day.

Using a bucket and scraping up some mud, he carried it over to a branch. The ogre undressed and pulled on a rope, causing the mud to pour onto him. He made an “Oof!” sound when it first hit him, but continued scrubbing himself with the mud like it was soap. He drank the last dregs of the mud and then spat it out, ending the shower.

Then the Ogre brushed his teeth. He grabbed a red caterpillar, and squeezing it like a tube of toothpaste, pushed its innards onto a bone. He scrubbed well, getting the insides of his teeth, then the outsides. It turned his already unhealthy teeth greener, and the putrid goo shown in his hideous smile caused his mirror to shatter and fall onto the floor.

Next, he plunged himself into a lake and made a huge splash, turning himself right and getting ready; the Ogre let out a loud, horrendous and terrible gaseous fart that bubbled behind him. Feeling relieved and making an “innocent” pose with his finger to his lip, he turned to see that there was not one, not two but three red salmon floating up to the surface; murdered by the deadliness of the stench that continued to plague the rest of the underwater native wildlife. He grabbed the one next to him and proceeded to leave.

Later army crawling into a hollowed husk of a fallen tree, pointing diagonally skywards, the Ogre pushed out a ton of mud as he climbed his way forward like a commando in the trenches of a battlefield. The final mud slopped out as his stained face popped out.

He smiled as he found a green slug right outside the tree trunk. The Ogre grabbed it and the slug squirmed in alarm as it was picked up by a giant green hand, leaving the small maggots once underneath the slug exposed to the air.

Closer to sunset, near a lake with verdant hills in the distance, the Ogre began painting a new sign. Having picked out a broken off- plank of moldy wood form his outhouse, he didn’t bother with a base coat of white. He spent several hours painting. Once he finished, the Ogre placed his palette down, took a good look at his newest masterpiece, and out of sheer joy of satisfaction he kissed the ogre in the picture on the lips. It left red paint all across his lips as he posted it next to an older sign that said, "STAY OUT". It was a rather hideous portrayal of his face with red eyes and red writing that stated, “BEWARE OGRE".

After The Ogre had ate his fishy and sluggy dinner and had lit a fire with the strength of his belch, he sat back on the crocodile flesh recliner. Just as he was settling in, the Ogre's tiny trumpet ears picked up a disturbance in the Swamp.

It was the sounds of people trespassing. With a groan he lurched to his feet and glanced out his window, spotting a group of Ogre Hunters in the far distance, mostly visible due to their torches. Within moments, the Ogre snuck outside his home and was tiptoeing behind them.

The Ogre Hunters, dressed mostly in green and sporting crappy haircuts, pushed aside the tall grass and foliage as they watched the Swamp House, lit from within by The Ogre’s Belch-Fire.

"Think it's in there?" The one with a bowl cut asked

"Alright... let's get it!" The one in the a tall hat declared, holding a torch and about to make a charge forward before he was stopped short by the one with the mustache next to him.

"Hold on, you know what that thing could do to you?" the mustached one said with fear.

"Yeah, it'll grind your bones for it's bread!" The one with the bowl cut told him.

They all froze when a loud chuckle echoed behind them.

Turning around, they saw the Ogre towering over them. He spoke in an almost friendly manner, but what he said was the opposite of friendly. “Ha, yes, well actually; that would be a giant!" He exclaimed, causing the men to back off. The Ogre stepped forward each time they stepped back. "Now Ogres, oh.. they're much worse! They'll make a suit from your freshly peeled skin!"

"No!" A man was horrified

"They'll shave your livers!"

“No!”

"And squeeze the jelly from your eyes!" The Ogre Hunters were cornered as the Ogre added, thoughtfully, "Actually it's quite good on toast."

The bearded Ogre Hunter swung torch at The Ogre’s face. "Back! Back, beast! Back! I warn ya!"

The Ogre simply raised an eyebrow before calmly licking his fingers and putting out his torch with a pinch and a smile.

"Right..." the Ogre Hunter dropped the extinguished torch.

The Ogre let loose an horrible and fearsome ear bursting roar directly into the faces of the cowering Ogre Hunters. Spit flew in their faces as their hair and hats were thrown back. They screamed in response as their torches extinguished as the roar continued. After a long moment, he stopped and wiped his mouth, but the Hunters continued to scream; when they finally stopped they looked like their wits had long been scared out of them.

The Ogre leaned in and whispered to them as the crickets and other hidden wildlife in the night went on in the silence. "This is the part where you run away..."

With a yelp they immediately dropped all their pitchforks and weapons and bolted out of the swamp as the Ogre chortled to himself. The bowl cut Ogre Hunter tripped but kept running in desperation.

The Ogre laughed whole heartily and yelled after the retreating party. "And stay out!"

A piece of paper they must’ve left behind caught his attention. He picked it up, and saw that it had the face of a solemn elf with a green leaf hat and white beard. There were bags of gold drawn around it, but no explicit price was given, just the word, “Reward” written in red. Above it he read, "Wanted: Fairy Tale Creatures...".

He realized they had wanted to capture him for the reward money. He looked towards the fleeing villagers in disgust and shook his head, throwing the paper to the ground as he went back inside to spend the rest of the night in peace.

The next day, as part of his new plan to get people to leave him alone, The Ogre set up some new new signs, even farther from his home. Just as he was setting up his last one (it had a green skull with the words ‘Keep Out!’ in the pupils), something ran into his butt.

The Ogre turned around to face what appeared to be a terrified mini-donkey.

Someone yelled, "He's getting away! Get him!" and the sounds of guards in armor scared the little donkey into hiding behind The Ogre. "This way! Turn!"

The local Captain of the Guard and his men ran up, stopping when they all saw the tall Ogre who stood before them. "You there... Ogre" The Captain grabbed a scroll his waist

"Aye?" Was The Ogre’s reply, hands on his hips and now seemingly irritated that his day was once again involving contact with humans.

"By the order of Lord Farquaad... I am authorized to place you both under arrest and transport you to a designated resettlement... facility...?" The Captain's voice was shaking and nervous due to the face that the Ogre was walking towards him slowly, now standing right in front of him as a deafening silence fell.

"Oh really?" He asked, leaning down so he was face to face with the Captain. "You and what army?" He asked as his teeth glittered with a smile, glancing behind him.

The Captain turned around to see what was once left of his men as their halberds fell down and a shield spun around onto the ground like a coin. He turned back to the Ogre; the mini-donkey smiled as the Captain took his men's example and made a run for it.

Now that confrontation is over with, the Ogre shook his head and walked away; but the mini-donkey had nowhere else to go and decided to follow his accidental savior. He trotted behind him.

"Can I say something to you?" He asked with the Ogre walking on. "Listen, you were really, really, really somethin' back here. Incredible!"

Now fully irritated, The Ogre turned around. "Are you talkin' to..." The Ogre saw no one else, just the ground lit by the sunlight within the forest of the tall trees. The voice was clearly gone. "Me?" He blinked and shrugged, turning before giving out a startled yell as the Donkey now stood before him.

"Yes I was talkin' to you. Can I tell you that you was great back here? Those guards! They thought they were all of that. Then you showed up and bam!" The little donkey caught up to The Ogre before getting up onto his hoofs in front of The Ogre and made a martial arts move with his right hoof, stopping him again. "They were trippin' over themselves like babes in the wood. I loved seeing that, made me feel happy seeing that"

"Oh, that's great. Really." The Ogre sarcastically replied

"Man, it's good to be free!" The burrito declared as the Ogre turned to him.

"Now, why don't you go celebrate your freedom with own friends? Hmm?" He suggested, leaning down to the little donkey, before walking off again.

"But... I don't have any friends, and I'm NOT going out there by myself!" Exclaimed the creature. A flash of inspiration came to him. "Hey wait a minute, I got a great idea! I'll stick with you" Donkey returned happily to the Ogre, deaf to his annoyance. "You're a mean green fighting machine! With you, we'll scare the spit out of anybody who crosses us!"

The Ogre halted and regarded Donkey for a moment. Then seemingly out of the blue, he fully turned and gave off an all might roar right into the animal’s face; hoping this would scare him.

The mini-donkey just stared, now with an impressed look drawn on his face. "Oh, wow! That was really scary!"

The Ogre just frowned and stomped away.

"Now if that doesn’t work, your breath will certainly get the job done, 'cause you definitely need some Tic Tacs or something 'cause your breath STINKS!"

The Ogre continued walking, but then looked back when he didn’t hear the none-stop chatterbox for about five seconds, to his relief and hope that he lost the annoyance.

To his irritation and surprise, the donkey appeared looking down at him from above; atop of a fallen tree over The Ogre’s path.

"You almost burned the hair outta my nose, just like the time..."

The Ogre covered the donkey's mouth, muffling his little obnoxious tale. The donkey still did not shut up as he kept it held there; continuing to talk either way; The Ogre removed his hand. "Then I ate some berries, man I had some strong gasses leaking out of my butt that day!"

"WHY are you following me?!" The Ogre asked, losing patience; nothing could shut this donkey up and he just needed to get away right now.

"I'll tell you why!" The animal leaped off the tree as he followed the Ogre, before breaking out into obnoxious song. "Cause I'm all alone, there's no here beside meeeee." He stopped in front of the Ogre as he wiggled his butt, the Ogre's right eye was half closed and his left eye was twitching in madness as the mini-donkey continued. "My problems have all gone, there's no one to deride me... but you gotta have faith-"

"Stop singing!" The Ogre yelled, he grabbed the burrito by the ears and tail as he moved him out of his way. "It's no wonder you don't have any friends!"

"Wow, only a true friend would be that truly honest!" The small donkey claimed.

The Ogre only groaned "Listen, little donkey. Take a look at me: What am I?" He held out his arms and stood tall before him.

The burrito looked from the Ogre's shoes to his head, whose face looked irritated while he thought to himself. "Really tall?" was his first guess. The mini-donkey wasn’t sure what The Ogre was asking.

"No! I'm an Ogre, you know. ‘Grab your torch and Pitchforks!’ Doesn't that bother you?" He imitated an Ogre Hunter before asking.

Donkey shook his head

"Nope." came the response

"Really?" The Ogre was a bit surprised.

"Really, really" The creature happily assured.

"Oh," The Ogre was not too sure on what to say next.

"Man, I like you, what's your name?"

The Ogre looked a little surprised. For all his time living alone in the Swamp, no one had ever asked him of his name. He had always been The Ogre, not a true individual to the people around him.

"Uhh... Shrek." He replied after a moment, before continuing his walk home.

"Shrek?" Th little donkey echoed, seeing if he got it right before following the now and forever named Ogre himself. "Well, you know what I like about you Shrek? You got that kind of I-don't-care-what-nobody-thinks-of-me-thing I like that. I respect that Shrek. You all right."

He continued to follow Shrek up the hill as they came overhead across a small grassy meadow hill above that overlooked Shrek's Swamp. Donkey (for that was his name) stared looked at the scene before him.

"Whoa! Look at that. Who'd want to live in a place a like that?" He asked with a hint of disgust, mostly discomfort, in his voice.

"That... would be my home" Shrek claimed, his hands on his hips before heading down the other side of the hill.

Donkey could only blink in response, he had really put his hoof in it now. "Oh! And it is lovely! Just beautiful. You know you are quite a decorator. It's amazing what you've done with such a modest budget!"

Shrek only shook his head as he continued downwards.

"I like that boulder, that is a nice boulder." Donkey followed him down. He continued after Shrek once again and stopped in front of the three signs: "BEWARE OGRE", "STAY OUT" and "DANGER". Donkey took a look at each of them all and asked,"I guess you don't uh.. entertain that much do you?"

"I like my privacy." Shrek claimed as he kept walking to his front door, Donkey trotting after him.

"You know, I do too. That's another thing we have in common. Like I hate it when you got somebody in your face. You've trying to give them a hint and they won't leave. Then there's that big awkward silence you know?"

Shrek turned to face him, silently willing Donkey to understand that the creature had just described their exact situation.

"Can I stay with you?" Clearly Donkey did not receive the hint.

"Uh, what?"

"Can I stay with you, please?" He added in the magic word.

"Of course!" Shrek declared lightheartedly as he smiled.

"Really?" Donkey asked.

"No." Shrek bluntly denied.

"PLEASE! I don't wanna go back there! You know what it's like to be living like a freak!" Donkey reconsidered for a moment as he looked at the large green humanoid before him as he pushed Shrek onto his front door with his hooves. "Well, maybe you do. But that's why we gotta stick together! You gotta let me stay, please, please!" Donkey was getting hysterical.

"OKAY! Okay..." Donkey dropped to the floor as Shrek opened his door inwards as he gave his one little stipulation. "But one night only." He was about to enter before Donkey bolted in.

"Ah! Thank you!"

"What are you...?" Donkey leapt onto Shrek's crocodile skin recliner. "No, no!"

"This is gonna be fun! We can stay up late, swappin' manly stories and in the mornin," He trotted around on the chair before sitting down as he finished with: "I'm makin' waffles!"

"Oh!" Shrek groaned as he held his hands out, as though he was planning to strangle the noisy intruder.

Donkey looked around and asked him. "Where do, uh... I sleep?"

"Outside!" Shrek screamed irritably.

Donkey's ears drooped upon hearing that response. "Oh, well, I guess that's cool. I mean, I don't know you and you don't know me, so I guess outside is best, you know. Here I go." He sniffled as got off his recliner and walked out sadly,"Goodnight..." He told him as Shrek slammed the door on him.

The mini-donkey kept talking, of course. "You know, I do like the outdoors. I'm a Donkey. I was born outside. I'll just be sitting by myself outside, I guess, you know. By myself, outside!"

Shrek looked out before shaking his head and sighing to himself, walking away from the door to enjoy himself for the rest of the day as Donkey began singing the same annoyingsong again; although more sorrowfully.

"I'm all alone, there's no one here besides me..."

That night, as the cauldron hanging by chains over the firepit bubbled solemnly; Shrek was enjoying himself with a nice dinner while Donkey was locked outside of his home. He dropped a eye on a stick into his martini glass and slurped it down as he looked at his dinner before him. There was a slug with orange eyes, what appeared to be green grapes, a jar of eyes, spice, worm stuffed pumpkin and a nice large piece of cooked skinless meat on his plate.

These were the times he enjoyed the most out of his solitary life, he was home, nice and warm and he wasn't bothered by anyone at all. Though he had to pause and glance at his front door. Shrek had ... mixed feelings about his new acquaintance. He talked WAY too much, but he was also the first person in a very long time to actually treat Shrek like a person.

He shook his head and sighed, scooting in further to his table as he felt that there was just something missing from the layout of the table. The man he figured out what ir was. He brought his hand to his ear and started to pull hard and painfully as the earwax built up came out like a spear and placed it atop a candle platform; lighting the wick made of ear hair afterwards with a match. Now he can enjoy his meal alone.

The same could not be said for Donkey, who peeked sadly into the window before making his way back to the front door. He laid down as he smiled bittersweetly and went to sleep at his new friend's doorstep.

Shrek continued to eat and enjoy his meal until the sound of his door creaking interrupted his silence.

He put his fork and knife on the table as he got up. "I thought I told you to stay outside." He was hoping to shove Donkey back outside, if that was what had come in.

"I am outside." Donkey’s voice came from the window.

In confusion, Shrek turned and saw a shadow move across the wall. Who was now moving around near his table? He returned and observed it. Everything was normal underneath the table, but then he heard voices from above.

"Well, gents, it's a farcry from the farm, but what choice do we have?" A blind mouse asked, tripping over Shrek's fork.

"It's not home, but it'll do just fine!" The second of the blind mice knocked over the jar full of eyeballs, spilling out the contents.

"What a lovely bed" The third of the blind mice was bouncing on the Slug, Shrek immediately caught him.

"Got ya!" However it escaped his grasp.

"I found some cheese" the third mouse said, biting Shrek's left ear.

"OW!" He cried in pain, grabbing at the mouse again who was now on his other shoulder.

"Blah! Awful stuff!" The tiny rodent jumped down onto the spoon and inadvertently launched a piece of gravy towards Shrek's left eye, which he wiped away immediately.

"Is that you Gordon?" One of them asked.

"How did you know?" A different one asked back.

"Enough!" Shrek grabbed all three of them by the tail, flipping the wooden spoon off the left side of the table as he turned his back and demanded angrily.

"What are you doing in my house?" The dinner on his table was then violently shoved off and Shrek's back was hit with an gold and glass fashioned coffin, labeled, ‘Here lies Snow White, under the curse by the Poison Apple infected by the Sleeping Death curse’.

"Hey!" He turned and saw the Seven Dwarves, one of the waved at Shrek.

"Oh, no, no, no. Dead broad OFF the table!" He shoved her coffin back to the Dwarves

"Where are we supposed to put her? The Bed's taken!" They shoved the coffin back to him.

"Huh?" Shrek stopped short. He hurried to his bed and opened the curtain separating the rooms and gasped. There laid comfortably and in grandmother's clothing, was a wolf of all creatures.

"What?" The Wolf asked irritably.

Shrek was now on the verge of rage, he dragged the Wolf out of bed and held him in the air through his house as the Seven Dwarves made themselves comfortable.

"I live in a swamp, I put up signs! I'm a terrifying Ogre!" He shoved his door open outwards. "What do I have to do to get a little privacy?!" He screamed as he threw the Wolf out of his house.

Then he saw a sight that would haunt him forever. "Oh no... oh no!" Shrek bellowed.

His Swamp. His lovely, silent, peaceful Swamp was no longer the way he intended it to be. It was now swarming with many, many Fairytale Creatures; many, many beings now living in his precious Swamp. Even the old woman brought her entire shoe to his Swamp, with many children running around. Tents were set up, fairies roamed around in the air, Pinocchio and a short yellow elf with a cone shaped hat were arguing and many people were conversing with each other.

“No!" A witch flew past him. "NO!" He screamed out, three more witches came zooming past him and Shrek had to jump for cover as they came flying down with elves helping them land.

"Wha?" Shrek turned his head to the side with the old woman hanging her clothes with a child and two other children pushing each other.

"Hey, don't push!" A girl in the blue shrieked.

The Pied Piper in red was calling over rats with his flute while many other Fairytale Creatures were waiting in line towards Shrek's Outhouse.

In the meantime, Papa and Baby Bear were sitting by the fire, the latter upset and being comforted by his father; no Mama Bear in sight, as many other Fairytale Creatures warmed themselves up by the fire before them. Elves, Lepricons, Dwarves, Fairies, Witches, Pigs, Wolves, a Unicorn and any Fairytale Creature you can think of were all there in Shrek's Swamp; shattering his peace.

"What are you doing in my Swamp?!" Shrek roared out as he got up, his voice echoed all over the sound of his Swamp; everyone and everything came an abrupt half as it was followed by screams and gasps. The Dwarves who held bowls to be fed with soup from the cauldron by the witch dropped them, the three fairies of Sleeping Beauty flew in the tent to hide and two Dwarves ducked out of sight and appeared holding each other out of fear behind a branch.

Shrek wasn't going to have all this; he eyed everyone and began to walk to some Elves and Dwarves. "Alright, get out of here. All of you, move it! Come on! Let's go! Hapaya! Hapaya! Hey! Quickly, come on!" He shooed them all backwards but some of the Dwarves and fairies ran into his home as Shrek turned back. "No, no! No, no. Not there, not there!" He ran after them as they slammed the door on him and a little green fairy, the door now unable to open despite his best efforts.

He stopped and turned to face the large group before them, especially on Donkey.

"Hey don't look at me, I didn't invite them!" Donkey replied.

"Oh, gosh, no one invited us" Pinocchio confirmed.

"What?!" Shrek came over, demanding to know what happened.

"We were forced to come here" He told the Ogre.

"By who?" He was flabbergasted until one of the Three Pigs told him.

“Lord Farquaad. He huffed and he puffed and he... signed an eviction notice." His brothers nodded in agreement.

"Alright. Who knows where this Farquaad guy is?" Shrek asked.

Everyone looked around at each other with no answer, until Donkey answered. "Oh, I do. I know where he is!"

"Does anybody ELSE know where to find him? Anyone at all?" Shrek was desperate to not to go with Donkey of all people.

"Me! Me!" Donkey tried to get his attention, jumping comically into the air. Baby Bear held his paw up, but was stopped by his father.

"Anyone?" Big Bad Wolf and a Green Wizard pointed to each other while Donkey continued

"Oh! Oh, pick me! Oh, I know! I know! Me, me!"

"Okay... fine." He reigned himself to being annoyed; Shrek knew that he would either go with Donkey or risk asking a human. "Attention, all Fairytale... things. Do not get comfortable, your welcome is officially worn out. In fact, I'm going to see this guy Farquaad right now and get you all off my land and back where you came from!" He pointed to the left before the entire crowd went wild.

Shrek shook his head and groaned before walking, four birds draping him in a flower cloak. "Doh!" He swatted them away as he sharply pointed directly at Donkey. "You. You're comin' with me" He told him darkly as he shoved the cape off him and started walking, the birds returning and dropping a flower crown on his head.

"Alright, that's what I like to hear man: Shrek and Donkey, two stalwart friends, off on a whirlwind big-city adventure. I love it!" Donkey rushed after the ogre.

Shrek tried to grab torch from a Dwarf while walking. He refused to let go, so Shrek simply shook him and then dropped the dwarf into the water where the dwarf resurfaced moments later.

"On the road again, sing it with me, Shrek. I can't to get on the road again!"

“What did I say about singing?" Shrek sharply turned to Donkey and grabbed his flower crown before throwing it off of him. They crossed a log that bridged the area between Shrek’s little island and the rest of the swamp.

"Can I whistle?" Donkey asked.

"No."

"Can I hum it?"

"Alright, hum it."

Donkey continued to hum ‘On the Road Again’ while Shrek

focused on the road ahead.

The two heroes marched off into the woodlands while being waved off by all creatures.

Art Explanation

So, it’s obvious I copied the title from the movie! It sure did make my life easier!

And I used a lot of references for my pictures. I hoped to make them true to the movie as possible.

The second picture is possibly my favorite, although I didn’t enjoy drawing all the scenery. It isn’t my specialty.

The third picture was fun! I remember being very jealous of Shrek’s belch power when I was little, lol.

To be honest, the fourth picture was my least favorite. It felt too busy.

The fifth picture is my other favorite, because it has Donkey!

The last picture was hard, for sure. I wanted to ge their reflections right, and not make the background look too crappy. It’s hard to adapt things from such a dark scene. But I think it turned out alright, although the scaling is a little funny :).

So, I was hoping to not have to write out these scenes myself, because it’s ten whole minutes of a movie and let me tell you, it’s hard to do from scratch. Luckily, I found a version, which I’ve left a link for below. I just polished it a bit.

Anyways, I hope you’ve enjoyed!

SOURCE

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/450448/1/Shrek-Adaptation

[kingofthewilderwest]

One of the major flaws of HTTYD 3 in comparison to its predecessors is how childish the movie felt. The first two movies had the occasional joke but were still extremely mature in their storytelling. Have you read the article "Dreamworks execs have an incredible reason for why their films are unpopular" ? It came out a year after the second movie, and explains why they dumbed down the third.

It’s an interesting article and I’ve always thought there was some truth in the opinion: to their detriment, DreamWorks’ latest films haven’t focused on the creatively wild, often more mature spark that made things like How to Train Your Dragon, The Croods, Rise of the Guardians, Megamind, or The Prince of Egypt quality films. As the article writer notes:

Animated films, if anything, attract a much broader audience of older children, teens, and adults than they ever did in the Eighties and Nineties. Ironically, DreamWorks’s own films in the 2000s played a significant role in expanding the public’s perception about animated features. Now, DreamWorks is betting against its own history as they try to get back on track.

That said. Many of the earliest DreamWorks productions have a somewhat mature appeal to them, but I feel like DreamWorks has long played the game of wide audience appeal commercialism. For a period of time, they balanced their “artistic” or “venturesome” films against their “safer cash” films. The fluffier Turbo was released just one year before HTTYD2; Kung Fu Panda 3 and The Boss Baby were released a year apart, too. There was a sense of balance, letting the fluffier, probably more kid-appealing films earn money, while allowing them to take risks on more unique ventures. I’m not sure if that was their actual strategy, but regardless: balance of maturity. (And for the record, calling some DreamWorks movies “fluffier” is not intended to be an insult; I myself love their Mr. Peabody & Sherman).

And I think the reason I was so hardcore on board the DreamWorks train is that, whether it was an ill-conceived mistake (Shark Tale) or a big “what the fuck” (Bee Movie) or feeling somewhat adult (Antz), DreamWorks was willing to take those risks. DreamWorks was willing to be quirky. And DreamWorks was willing to put heart into everything; Mr. Peabody & Sherman definitely has heart to it, as does Home, as does Turbo from what I remember (only saw that one once).

I feel like advertisements for Trolls and The Boss Baby is where my friendship circles started to feel less enthused about DreamWorks. At that point, I saw some trust failing for DreamWorks’ creative direction - that DreamWorks was dumbing down their movies for children rather than making fluff family films with heart. The key phrase is “dumbing down.” There’s a huge difference between writing children’s stories and dumbing down for children. And that’s what this article writer was calling out, too.

Ghibli movies are written for children. Disney 2D animated films bring awe to children. How to Train Your Dragon understood that lots of its audience members would be children. But you breathe life into a quality story that children and adults can enjoy! Making a bunch of crappy jokes dumbed down to children is stuff like... at its worst... Norm of the North. When you’re making something shoddier, with half-assed fart jokes, because of an implicit idea children’s media doesn’t have to be as quality... because children allegedly aren’t going to notice quality... that’s where we run into problems.

Now, I’m not going to say whether or not I think DreamWorks has actually begun dumbing down its films. I know that’s the impression in my peer group. I know that’s an impression I’ve felt inside my heart, too. But I haven’t seen Trolls or Trolls World Tour or The Boss Baby so I can’t judge. But I think it’s safe to say there has been a gradual shift over time. And that escalated post-2014, where we got this from DreamWorks execs:

…the company's slate changes are more realistic/in-tune with the evolution in changes in the box office market as the 2012-2014 film challenges were tied to films which skewed older right as the box office began to see changes whereby animation demand was increasingly skewing younger as kids began to age out of the genre earlier. While we view the ability to reduce P&A as more difficult given the need to advertise to two distinct groups (kids and moms), the combination of both cost reductions in production and a younger skewing slate, do position the slate better in our view.

And my impression is it’s escalated lately (but I only have a small sample size of films, so I take what I say with a grain of salt). I remember during the NBCUniversal acquisition in 2016, fans feared DreamWorks would lose its sometimes mature, sometimes quirky heart. That the company would be in a downfall state for quality.

I had hoped that HTTYD3 might be a bastion against efforts to commercialize with cash-easy, not-as-heart-ful “kid” appeals. THW grossing a lot of money could help leadership remember that diverse audiences, not tiny children, can and do watch animated films - 3D animation’s just not a guaranteed success because it’s a more saturated market. It could at least let the tradition of some DreamWorks gutsier creative films perpetuate.

And I do think that THW doesn’t have as many problems as, say, The Boss Baby probably does, when it comes to “kid-specific appeal”. I feel like the tone in THW has a middle ground. THW was never going to be as dark as HTTYD2; DeBlois made that clear since the release of HTTYD2; but I do think there might have been an effort to lighten tone in places (ergo the large number of gag jokes that cluttered the film). There’s absolutely mature ideas inside THW: the concept of parting ways with someone you love because it’s better for both of you... that’s meaty... that’s something that even adults grapple with. Hiccup’s flashbacks with Stoick have the simple but in-depth storytelling mood I know of the How to Train Your Dragon brand. So I would phrase it as it’s not a case of complete dumbing down so much as it is some imperfect tonal choices and plot focuses (too much spotlighting on the Light Fury romance, for instance, and not weeding out an excessive amount of jokes... that again... cluttered the film). The first two HTTYD movies feel like carefully honed storytelling, capturing the essence of what their story needed. The third needed tonal and content reorganization. The presentation of stakes and plot progression weren’t on par with the first two films. The Hiccup-Toothless separation didn’t pack a hard punch to me because the steps we took to get to the end weren’t the tonal footsteps we needed.

There’s a reason I charged to theatres the weekend Abominable released (mind, this was before the map controversy over the film came out). I was hoping Abominable could be a DreamWorks film with art and heart. And you know? I think that Abominable was one draft short of being *INCREDIBLE*. The problem is it was one draft short. It stayed superficial instead of diving into the meat. The plot pacing was slow because we didn’t get into the meat, the characterization felt awkwardly paced and whiplashy because it didn’t get into the meat, and the humor felt childish rather than taking full advantage of things like character relations. But the inside heart - the inside potential - of Abominable is monumental. It’s still not a bad film! If they’d gotten that next draft, Pearl and DreamWorks could have had a piece on par with Megamind and The Croods. I absolutely believe that. If I had time, I would rewrite Abominable in fanfiction and show how much potential this thing had.

DreamWorks is no longer a young studio exploring whatever the crap it wants because it’s the new guy finding his voice or rebelling against the other voice. DreamWorks is an established powerhouse. And with establishment comes a certain degree of safety-playing and standardization of content. I don’t expect we’ll get as many wild tone shifts as Bee Movie (11/2007) to Kung Fu Panda (6/2008) or How to Train Your Dragon 2 (6/2014) to freaking Penguins of Madagascar (11/2014).

That’s not to say DreamWorks does or doesn’t make quality films. I admit I don’t have high hopes on some things like The Boss Baby 2. I do have my fingers crossed for The Wizards of Once; I hoooope that DreamWorks can treat TWOO as they did HTTYD... something with simple, powerful, overflowing, artistic heart.

Who knows. Guess we’ll see.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 21

The Sergeant sprays me down next and I keep my mouth shut and breathe shallowly through my nose, but the same raw chemical odor still forces its fingers down my throat and makes my guts churn. I cough and the Sergeant gives me a rough smile that says something like ‘grin and bear it, soldier,’ and then he’s done and moving on to Klaus.

Ahead of us is the gate to the copepod barrows, a vast wall of metal set directly into the flesh of the Pit, with one of the ubiquitous submarine-style doors and a host of warnings slathered over the it in bright, eye-catching shades. One warns of hostile arthropods ahead and states that the buddy system is mandatory; another warns that the barrows are not area mapped and to exercise caution; another says that free fire is authorized and encourages rangers within to double-check their ID tags and to make sure they check their targets; a third states in bold letters that it is a felony for both civilians and non-combat-trained park personnel to enter, punishable by a fine of up to $1000, imprisonment, and administrative penalty, if applicable. A fourth states that there is nothing beyond this point worth dying for and practically begs the reader not to enter. The paint on this last example is peeling and the latter half of it looks stained by some kind of ichor.

My heart, which has been residing comfortably in my throat this past hour or so, does an ugly little squeeze and for a moment I feel somewhat faint, but I close my eyes and focus on the pounding in my ears and the feeling passes after a moment. I still have the tingles of anticipation racing up and down my arms, and my hands are quivering, though I can’t tell whether it’s out of fear or out of adrenaline overload.

Elena sneezes again next to me and I look over at her, then lean in. I know I shouldn’t ask, I know it’s practically pointless because the answer is obligatory, but I ask her anyway: “Are – are we going to be okay in there?”

Elena shrugs and looks at me with bleary eyes. “We’ll be fine,” she assures me, but there is an edge of tension in her voice that tells me the real answer isn’t nearly so cut and dried. “We have an…understanding with the copepods. We don’t fuck with them and they don’t fuck with us. Plus the pheromone spray will make us smell really unappetizing.”

“Even when we march right in and bother them?”

“When there’s this many of us they’ll think twice about starting anything.”

I neglect to mention that that cuts both ways. Or any of the other dozen holes in that logic that I can see. What if a copepod isn’t as smart as we are and thinks it can just scuttle up and grab one of us? Then one of us shoots it and they all take that as the signal to go ham on us? How smart are copepods anyway?

I swallow hard and push it out of my mind. Between the pheromone spray that the Sergeant is treating all of us with, including Joker, and Elena’s assurance that they do this all the time and it’s only somewhat dangerous, I am almost able to delude myself into thinking that we’ll be okay.

No, stop that. No negative thinking. These men and women (okay, well, woman) do this for a living and they’re paid very highly for what they do. If they say it’s safe, it’s surely safe.

Alright, says the little voice, whispering from its burrow at the back of my skull, let’s just ignore the fact that everyone has gotten very tight-lipped and anxious the closer we got to this place, let’s just ignore that everyone has triple-checked their rifles while we’ve been standing here, let’s just ignore –

Yes, I think savagely to myself, let’s just ignore all that. This is what you wanted, Roan, isn’t it, exhilaration and dangerous circumstances, right? This is the logical extension of chain-smoking, just more immediate. What would be worse, a death in twenty years of lung cancer or a death right now by disembowelment and then getting eaten alive by an arthropod? If you weren’t stupid enough to believe Thor when he told you that –

Elena squeezes my hand, interrupting my internal monologue, and then the foot-thick reinforced door to the barrows is swinging open at the Sergeant’s hand, and I have no more time for thoughts.

“Stick very close to me,” Elena reminds me, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak. There is a cold sweat along the back of my neck and I ball up the loose rubberized fabric at my thighs to keep my hands from shuddering.

One by one we file into the barrows, and then the Sergeant seals the door behind us, trapping us inside. All around me I hear sounds of slug rifle actions being racked and shells being chambered. I see Euler, just a few feet away, swallowing hard, pressing rarely used buttons on the controller, and see Joker, correspondingly, flash on a pair of headlights and unsling its rifle from around its shoulders, tossing the meter-long gunmetal rod around like it were a toy.

I look around at the barrows and to my immense surprise my initial reaction is disappointment. I guess I had anticipated surroundings even stranger than the rest of the Pit, something really weird to mark that we’re in the part of the map where the optimistic medieval cartographer would draw sea serpents rather than blank space, but the flesh on the inside of the vast stainless surgical-steel retaining wall is just as rugose and squamous and eldritch as the flesh on the outside. If the wall and all of the warning signs plastered rather tackily all over it weren’t in the way you practically wouldn’t be able to tell that you’d crossed over the boundary into The Forbidden Zone.

Here be monsters and so on. None are immediately forthcoming, however, and the Sergeant resumes his spot at the head of the column and takes out the slim palm-pilot-like locator device keyed to the tracker on the crystal and points towards one of the dripping orifices leading deeper within, and where he points we follow.

There’s something meaningful there, I think to myself, as my boots squelch against the vast living floor and my eyes scrape along the edges of the vast living walls and my nose inhales the reek of the vast living space I’m crawling through like a parasite. Because truly there likely is no real meaningful boundary between the barrows and the rest of the Pit, it’s just a place the copepods like to nest. Perhaps it’s got the perfect temperature for them or it has an abundance of food or it has – some other quality that they desire more than other parts. But, I think as I crane my neck back and glare at the wall receding into the darkness behind us, that boundary there certainly wouldn’t have been one they would have picked.

Or perhaps I’m anthropomorphizing too much. Perhaps the copepods wouldn’t have picked anything, perhaps their range is the same as the range of their tinier oceangoing fellows, spreading wherever they might and if the surroundings aren’t suitable to support their life, they die.

I remember Peter’s tale of the copepod that wanted to see the sunlight and wonder, and then fifteen minutes later I see my first copepod and the sight of the massive crustacean shatters whatever pondering introspectiveness that I had summoned to, I realize now, shield me from the brutality I had been anticipating.

The copepod, at any rate, was small, at least according to Elena. I had underestimated their bulk, just based off of Peter’s story. This one was the size, perhaps, of a smallish boat, and streamlined roughly the same, a bulbous cigar-like body tapering at both ends to a tail and to a head, with a pair of reticulated arms terminating in creepy little hands with long grasping fingers. Something about their five-fingered familiarity filled me with dread, and watching the way the copepod cocked its head at us from the warty, encrusted protuberance it had partially emerged from, I thought I could have detected a canniness to it that shattered my half-conceived notion of the copepods as being simply overgrown louses or similar. It was, I realized, sizing us up.

Evidently we were present in numbers large enough to prove unpalatable, for it retreated back into its hole with a squelching noise like a fart and let us be. I breathed out a sigh of relief when it went and Elena squeezed my hand.

My initial impressions were wrong, anyway, because the deeper we go the more the flesh around us seems to crinkle and whorl and shrink down, without really losing any volume or pressing down further against us, without restricting our movement overly compared to the flesh outside. It’s as though this portion of the Pit were, for whatever reason, much older than the rest, although that doesn’t really make any sense, and what I’m seeing are all the assorted wrinkles and liver spots and jaundices that would come from that age. It sags in here, the ceiling bulges downwards and blisters occasionally, wet and fragile-looking and dripping in places. I think I can smell ballast and I discover that that night only – Christ, only a day ago, had imprinted something indelible and Pavlovian into me, for with the smell of the ballast I only felt my knees weaken slightly and my pulse quicken whenever I glanced at Elena, which was frequently.

Encounters with copepods become gradually more common the deeper we press. We see them all over the place, great overgrown louses burrowing amid the flesh, peeking out at us blearily or waving their rotund abdomens as they struggle, pale and phallic, to force themselves into reluctantly elastic orifices. Many times they look at us, eyes like faceted obsidian paperweights sunk in their broad, plated skulls, and I feel the same eerie sense of sizing up that I had noticed before, the same sense of analysis, but not a single one of them even makes a move in our direction.

Two hours in I incline my head closer to Elena and ask her how smart these things are, really, and she shrugs, her shoulder nudging at my chin. “I don’t think anyone really knows,” she says, “but the conventional wisdom is that they’re about as smart as five-year-olds.”

I think about that, really think about it, about what that implies. I remember being five; I was conscious and functional, if a little stupid and naïve. I couldn’t have fended for myself but I was also a soft, coddled human child, not an arthropod the size of a truck. I know cockatoos and dolphins are about as smart as three-year-olds, I know that some cephalopods like cuttlefish are supposed to be rather intelligent as well.

Maybe it’s too much of an abstraction. Saying something is as smart as a five-year-old implies a number of things and invites the listener to imagine various things that are true about five-year-olds that might not necessarily be true about the animal in question. Perhaps a copepod is only as smart as a five-year-old in certain areas, like in recognizing itself in a mirror or foraging for food or in performing certain types of logic puzzles. Perhaps –

“You okay?” Elena asks me, and I realize I’m doing it again, I’m retreating into myself as a sort of anticipatory cringe. The air is electric in here and though nothing has happened so far some deep-seated monkey part of my brain knows that we are in a capital-letter Bad Place with Bad Things in it that want to do Bad Acts to my poor little monkey body, and if I go analytical, if I shove all of my thought into the high-level abstract end of the spectrum maybe it won’t hurt so bad when I’m being eaten alive.

Stop. Here and now, Roan, I tell myself. Psychoanalyze yourself later.

Elena nudges me and repeats herself and I realize with a kind of aching clarity that I am very, perhaps mortally frightened, and when I look at her all that I want, all that I need, on some kind of overpowering molecular level, is for her to hold me very tightly until this is all over. I think my lip even trembles a little, and I can tell from the tiny judder in her eye when it does that she notices. I don’t even have the presence of mind to curl my lip at myself at this effervescent and overly enthusiastic gesture of weakness. I must be losing my touch.

Elena takes a hand off her rifle and knits her gloved fingers awkwardly with mine, and then she does something with her radio and then I can hear her, as close and as clear as if she were inside my helmet with me.

“Roan,” she says, adding quickly that this is one-way only, some sort of ranger trick with the equipment that would take me too long or be too technical to replicate on my end, “I know you’re scared but you’ve been so strong so far and I’m so proud of you. I – �� she says, and then she breaks off for a moment, and I recognize in the silence a kind of precipice that she is dangling off of and she doesn’t know for a moment whether or not to let go or to pull herself back up. I’m smiling, I’m staring at her and I’m smiling and willing her to just tell me, to open up and say whatever it is she wanted to say, to not think for just a moment, but when she speaks again I can see that she brought herself back from it and is taking a more measured approach, she is looking before she leaps, which although reasonable leaves me aching with the desire to hold her, to put my hand to her cheek and tell her that no matter what she wanted to say to me I would have wanted to hear it.

“I am so glad,” she says finally, “that I kissed you, I’m so glad that all of this happened between us, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you down here. I promise.”

And then I reach over and slip my arm around her hip and tug her into me and although I cannot really tell her how I feel without clunking my helmet against hers and yelling I think she gets the idea that I do feel better.

We spend the next half hour or so with her radio still linked up to mine and with her low voice like cool water whispering comforting, sensual things directly into my ears, and though more copepods – or perhaps just a rotating menagerie of the same five or so, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference – come and inspect us warily from a safe distance, clinging to the walls and prodding their heads out of vents as we pass, I manage not to feel too frightened of them.

Elena tells me about herself, about the year she spent in France after she graduated high school and her parents still thought she was going to go to college, about the time she cracked a rib from laughing too hard, about the time that she got into a car accident and it turned out to be an ex-boyfriend that she had rear-ended and they ended up getting back together and he rear-ended her, and she says this last with a lascivious little grin I can hear very clearly and it both makes me picture it and bite my lip a little and makes me snicker because it is the dumbest way to refer to sex that I’ve ever heard, and I realize that it has been far, far too long since I’ve had a friend like this, someone who’s been willing to expose at least a little of their life to me without heavy editing getting in the way. I learn that she drinks but not heavily, that she likes the taste of whiskey but doesn’t like how drunk it gets her, that she tried to smoke a cigarette once and vomited all over her shoes and has never been able to smell cigarette smoke without feeling vaguely nauseous afterwards.

I feel a little jolt of serendipity blossoming in my heart, and I think of the crumpled pack of cigarettes, still half-full, laying in the muck at the bottom of the vent to the ballast bulb.

I learn that she likes jazz music and blues music and that one of her favorite musicians is Dave van Ronk but that she also (she admits with a wry little shake of her head) likes pop music and that she also feels vaguely ashamed of it whenever she looks at the small stack of CDs she keeps with her things back in the barracks. I learn that Fall Out Boy and Green Day have made the list, along with some Coltrane and Louis Armstrong, but also Five Iron Frenzy and Cold War Kids and Florence and the Machine and Queens of the Stone Age and Pearl Jam.

She tells me about how when she was a kid she wanted to be a figure skater and trained for so long and so hard but she didn’t have enough talent to really do it at a meaningful level, and her dream was always to go to the Olympics for it but it was something that she had leave behind, and she had ended up channeling that competitiveness and drive and motivation into diving instead and found that she was good at it, that she was beyond good at it, that she found a freedom there underwater that she hadn’t expected, and she had grabbed it like a quarterback and ran with it until she had ended up here.

She tells me about high school, how she was one of the lacrosse girls, and instantly I ache for her in a way that’s almost palpable, because one of my first real crushes on a girl had been in the senior year of high school, and every day I would walk across the bridge to the cafeteria at the same time that she was coming back with a group of her friends, wearing that blazing maroon and white oversized polo shirts that I found so indelibly attractive, and it had awoke something in me that had apparently decided afterwards to fall back asleep afterwards, with mild snoring in college, until it finally burst out of bed roughly four days ago at 2 PM in the metaphorical afternoon with a panicked look at the alarm clock.

There is a lull in the one-sided conversation for a moment and I look over at her wondering if something is wrong but I catch her staring at me with an abundantly warm look of open fondness on her face that immediately pushes a rising heat into my cheeks and makes me look away quickly.

She tells me that she likes my body, that she knows I think I’m too skinny and frail and what the hell ever else I think is wrong with me but she thinks my face and my big wonky Roman nose is terrifically aesthetic. She loves the little dimples I have just above my ass, and she loves my ass and the way I make a little animal grunting noise in my throat whenever she squeezes or spanks it. She loves the way that I’m so thin that she can wrap both her arms around me and hold me very tight and feel me wriggle against her. She loves the way that I nuzzle against her in my sleep and the way that, occasionally, she’s noticed, I mumble things and give her affectionate, uncoordinated kisses without ever waking up, and then press myself back into her bosom and settle down again.

She loves the way I cry out softly when I cum and dig my nails into her without meaning to, and she loves the way that my tongue knows exactly what to do when I lap at her. She loves how I taste and how I smell and even though it’s been a couple days of hard work and neither of us are particularly fresh as daisies at the present moment she’s loved giving me impromptu baths with wet-wipes so she has another excuse to cup my small breasts and watch my cheeks color when her thumb and forefinger come together on my small, sensitive nipples. She likes the way that I’m more passive than she is, that she gets to take charge, she likes the trust I show her when I do that and she promises to never, ever abuse it. She likes the way that I look at her when her hand is squeezing gently around my throat, the way my mouth drops halfway open and I practically start to pant I want it so bad.

Halfway through this list I had begun to feel embarrassed, but I’ve wrapped all the way around and ended up feeling fuzzy and clear and incredibly, incredibly warm.

She has a whole litany of these things that she loves about me and I end up grinning so widely as she recites them to me, her tone growing slowly more and more pleased as she does so, that I flash a copepod a dazzling smile from about thirty feet away and I amuse myself by imagining that it looks confused as it turns and thrusts itself back into the flesh of the wall.

I wish I had some adequate way to tell her that nobody, not even Thor, has ever done anything like this for me. Nobody’s ever recognized that I was frightened and out of my element and distracted me so organically and effortlessly and unselfconsciously that I didn’t even realize at first, and by the time I did I was too flattered to care. I settle for just holding here there to me and listening to her voice as we pry deeper into the Pit, into the barrows.

With my hand there on the gentle swell of Elena’s hip and the crook of her elbow nestled tight against my side, the rifle clanking lightly in a rhythmic pattern as we walk, it is easy enough to forget that we are all presently in mortal danger.

 * * *

 We’ve stopped now, in the middle of a broad flat chamber that throbs like a drum to a sickly organic beat coming from somewhere below. It feels like walking on a waterbed. The Sergeant is stopped there ahead of us, staring at the locator PDA clutched in his gloved palm with a curious expression that on any lesser man I would categorize as either chagrin or hesitance, but either of those would be frightfully out of place on the Sergeant so I simply assume that it’s some trick of the light bouncing off the glass of the faceplate masking his characteristically immobile face.

I watch as he reaches down to the radio at his waist. “Veret,” he says, his voice faint and crackly in my helmet, “the Big Guy has it.”

He says this improbable phrase with such complete nonchalance that I think initially that I must have misheard him. Then the radio sparks and Makado’s voice, equally grainy, blooms in my ears. “Shit,” she says, dead serious. “Are you sure?”

“Locator’s pointing right to it.”

“I wish we had fucking known –“

“No time,” the Sergeant growls curtly. “Can we go in?”

Dead silence for a moment. It stretches like taffy. I glance over at Elena; she looks concerned, but whatever line Makado is speaking on has overridden the link that Elena had rigged between us. Her lips move softly and then she shakes her head.

“Alright,” Makado says, “go in.”

The Sergeant waits a full fifteen seconds before he acknowledges the order and then gestures to the rest of us and we trundle ahead towards the puckered vent ahead of us. It’s narrow, so narrow that we have to get out the jack again, the lower-powered spare one we had to take from the storage locker in the Listening Station after Slate had disappeared with the big fuck-off heavy-duty hydraulic one strapped to his back.

Poor Slate, I think to myself again, standing there feeling nervous and edgy here at the back of the pack, with only Elena and Joker there to protect me. What if a copepod scoots in, those manic rows of frilled rudders on its sides working overtime, and scoops me up in one of those creepy little hands, big enough to encircle my entire waist in one palm but spindly and altogether too delicate-looking to really embody the force and power I know is lurking behind them?

I consider the copepod behind us just now, thirty feet back and pale in the wan spotlight Joker is casting on it. The robot’s walking backward with inhuman surety, the slug rifle clutched in its metallic hands in a relaxed, low posture, but with the barrel still trained on the enormous arthropod back there with unerring accuracy. I look at the copepod’s massive blunt head and its dark, dark eyes, and it looks at me. It seems as though it had intended to come this way. It’s holding something in one of its hands but it’s tucked up against its body and I can’t really get a good look at it.

The copepod puts one hand out in front of it and pushes off and with a sort of bulky, lumbering grace retreats back out of sight and is gone. I let out a sigh of relief I didn’t realize I was holding.

Elena’s helmet clunks into mine. “It’ll be okay,” she says, a little brusquely, and then she’s gone, marching up to the front at some unseen signal from the Sergeant. Me and Euler are left to trade glances; he looks nervous, but he also always looks nervous.

I feel the temptation to retreat into myself again but I resist it. I grin at Euler, widely, with more carelessness than I really feel, and he frowns at me. He looks as though he’s going to be sick.

“Euler,” I say to him, leaning in a little. “I don’t know about you but this makes me feel alive.”

“Very invigorating,” he agrees after a moment, in a drab tone of voice. His accent’s slipped a little, he’s got a trace of the German coming out in the consonants now.

“You all right?” I ask him, and he shrugs.

“The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

“What, you’re not a fan of the surroundings?” I ask. I can feel a laugh at the back of my throat. I gesture around us, at the fleshy walls wreathed in shadow. “The scenic views? The locals?” I ask, eyeing the silhouette of a copepod scrambling along the ceiling far in the distance. It appears as nothing more than a great white tick rooting amid the remains of a piece of intestine someone has tossed on the ground in the middle of the night, lit briefly by our flashlights and then winking out of existence again. I experience a brief moment of nausea as the perspective seems to shift around me and I have to blink hard and stare at the floor to regain my bearings.

“We’re going in,” the Sergeant says across the radio. I stand on my tiptoes – not an easy feat in the heavy cleats – and peer ahead. The vent ahead takes a sharp curve to the left and – my breath catches – I can see an eerie, faint green glow emanating from it, the color of will-o-wisps and phosphorescence, the strength of about a hundred fireflies put together and flickering their hardest. It casts crazy shadows over the folds and flaps and moles and wrinkles of flesh on the walls, but we march around the corner just the same. I nearly plough into Fumi; I didn’t realize he’d stopped short, and he reaches back awkwardly and steadies me. Next to me I hear Euler mutter something under his breath in German and I frown and look over at him sharply but he is staring at something ahead of us.

I look ahead and see that we have fanned out into a rough semi-circle, and there in the center of the chamber, peering at us dubiously with an uncannily aggrieved expression on its flat, cracked face, is an absolutely enormous copepod. Its sides and back are scarred and pitted with age and it is missing an eye and a hand, but it has strewn across its tapered, bulldog neck a necklace made from what looks like fishing line and teeth, some of which – I blink, half-convinced I’ve gone insane and am hallucinating – look terribly human.

The copepod is curled over onto its side, and I can see beneath its bulk that it is resting on several animal pelts. Its one remaining hand strokes the fur idly as it watches us, and then it shifts a little, rolls over onto its belly. It raises its head and makes a buzzing, chittering noise that works its way into my bones and sets my teeth on edge, and a few vents on the other side of the organelle widen as two other copepods squeeze their way in. They start to approach us, mouthparts working, but the giant copepod gestures and they fall back towards the walls and simply sit still and watch us.

Behind the giant copepod – oh, of course.

Behind the Big Guy is a pile of what I initially think is trash, but as our lights play over I realize it must be more like treasure. I see more pelts, bits of clothes, disposable cameras, packs of cigarettes, jewelry, fishing rods, a set of tent stakes. I see shoes and shirts and flashlights, little bits and bobs, shiny things, precious things, all arranged in a massive pile there on the throbbing floor of the chamber. I can see a human skull, picked clean of flesh and yellowed a little, peeking out at me quite clearly.

And behind it, partially concealed by all the junk and detritus and cast-off relics that the copepods must have spent years collecting, is an enormous gnarled crystal, spiked as a sea-urchin, glowing with a pale green fire somewhere in its depths. I think for a moment, as I stare deeply into it, that I can see something moving inside of it, but it’s just my imagination. The winking red light of the radio tracker patch someone from the ill-fated science team had slapped onto it flickers wanly at us.

The Big Guy spreads its arms. Its mouthparts scuttle over each other for a moment before a hideous, strangled noise emerges from them, but as its croaks and grunts and screeches continue on some part of my brain manages to piece together a pattern out of them, and then I freeze. I can feel my pulse throbbing in my ears and I recognize distantly that my mouth has fallen open.

“What… you want?” the copepod moans at us, and as the Sergeant takes a step forward, his hands empty and outward in an almost supplicating gesture, and begins to speak to it, I feel my insides give an uncomfortable, shocked lurch, like the floor has just opened up beneath us and swallowed us whole, like the pit I’ve fallen into has come alive around me.

Continue with Part 22

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[sunsetcurveofficial]

fics by yours truly

sometimes i write. you can find me on ao3 here. this is a list of all my most relevant fics. there are some ouat/cs and doctor who/tenrose ones to be found on my ao3 as well, though. 

Merlin/Merthur:

golden as i open my eyes

The Once and Future King shall unite the lands of Albion and bring magic back to the kingdom, they'd said. But then Arthur had died before any of that could come to pass and Merlin had to make the easy choice to bring him back by giving him half of his own remaining lifespan. Well, he might have miscalculated a bit. So there they were, on the verge of a golden age, and the possibilities suddenly seemed limitless. The story they were a part of had just taken a different turn.

Words: 16,404; Rating: M

Love, Merlin

Merlin and Arthur have been best friends since they were kids, but even though they’re inseparable, life always seems to be getting in their way, separating them against their will. Timing, fate, and life itself seem to have conspired against them and when it comes to love, there always seems to be someone else. Will they ever get their timing right and both realize that they were meant to be together since the beginning of time (quite literally), and that even across time and space, the bond they share can never be severed? A tale of magic, friendship, family, and a love that outlasts centuries.

(Love Rosie AU)

Words: 66,823; Rating: M

Dreams Don’t Turn To Dust

In a world where every person starts dreaming about their soulmate on the day of their 16th birthday, Prince Arthur is expected to be the soulmate of a beautiful princess. But when the big day finally rolls around, it turns out that his true soulmate is as far from a beautiful princess as one could get… a peasant boy with magic.

Words: 4221; Rating: T

Podfic read by me: [Podfic] Dreams Don't Turn To Dust

The Frog King

Arthur gets turned into a frog when he tries to protect Merlin from Morgana, and there’s only one way to reverse the spell.

Words: 3105; Rating: T

Sleepyhead

Merlin has a habit of falling asleep after sex and Arthur loves teasing him for it. That is, until a very sleepy Merlin accidentally proposes to him one night… or does he?

Words: 1874; Rating: M

Of Bumbling Fools and Awkward Nights

At the end of the day real life just wasn’t like the movies, and it wasn’t like fancy novels loved to describe it.

In which Merlin is clumsy, Arthur farts, and their first night together just isn’t quite like either of them expected.

Words: 2245; Rating: M

Worth It

Sometimes Merlin thought about that first night in the pub, when he’d been sure that putting up with Arthur Pendragon wasn’t worth any possible benefit that might come from it at all. Looking at the wide and shining smile in front of him now, he knew it had been worth it after all; all of it.

Words: 2921; Rating: T

With All My Heart And Soul

Arthur couldn’t believe that it had taken him an awful lot of alcohol on multiple occasions to finally get to this point. Well, that, and a firm kick in the arse by Gwaine, who probably had planned it all out all along and was smirking smugly to himself now.

Words: 8112; Rating: M

Nothing but the Truth

After almost eight years of being Arthur’s manservant and friend, Merlin was pretty certain that he’d seen almost everything and that nothing could truly surprise him anymore. Goblins, trolls, love spells, donkeys - he’d seen it all. But nothing could have prepared him for this: Arthur under the influence of a truth serum that showed them all just how much the king liked to keep to himself. Usually.

Words: 7363; Rating: T

Harry Potter/Drarry:

Antidote 

Harry and Draco are ex-bandmates, formerly the two most popular members of the world's most successful boyband of their time, Diagon Alley. What nobody knows? They are also ex-lovers, who haven't seen each other in 3 years, ever since Draco left the band. Unknowingly, they've been invited to the same event, where they inevitably run into each other and both realise that they're far from over that thing they had. Turns out that you can only run for so long until you run out of breath and that every secret has a habit of coming out eventually.

Words: about 37k when it’s complete; Rating: M

High on Our History

Sometimes a single decision can change your whole history. Sometimes a simple question and a little bit of insistence can make all the difference. Sometimes all you need is someone who thinks you deserve a second chance. 

Draco nearly crumbles under the weight of the Dark Mark and the task he has been given. It’s like a constant weight on his shoulders that just would not let him breathe, would not budge, no matter how hard he tries. But there is another constant during his horrendous sixth year at Hogwarts, always around a corner, always watching: Potter. And Potter seems hellbent on saving him.

Words: 72,736; Rating: M

Gilmore Girls/Literati: 

Nice Little Place in the Stars

“Oh my god,” Lorelai announced as she put down the new chapter of Rory’s manuscript. Rory frowned at her, eyebrows raised in question. “You’re still in love with him. You realize that, don't you, honey? You’re still in love with Jess.” Rory sunk back into her chair as the realisation dawned on her that Lorelai was right. She’d known, deep down, but having her mother confront her like that with the truth… 

“Oh my god!” She jumped up, her hands nervously rubbing over her growing belly as she started pacing. “Oh my god! I’m in love with Jess! I love Jess. I’m still in love with him.”

Words: 10,579; Rating: T

more to come and be added soon <3 

[carriagelamp]

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood: The Poetry of Mister Rogers

This is an anthology collection of the various poems and songs that appeared in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, with art by Luke Flowers. It is exactly as zen as you think it will be. If you are in need of something soft, loving, and affirming right now in the terror that is 2020, go pick this book up. I read it all over the course of two days and feel like a better person for it.

Asterix in Britain

I decided to watch my french Asterix movies on a whim the other week, and that got me rereading all the old Asterix comics I grew up with (Asterix and Obelix All At Sea, Asterix the Legionary, Asterix and the Black Gold, Asterix and the Great Divide, Asterix and the Secret Weapon…) I decided to use in Britain as my representative though because to this day it’s one of my all time favourites, and it’s one of the first ones we ever owned — while the others my brother and I collected avidly over the years (any time we were allowed to pick a new comic out of the book store) I can’t remember a time when we didn’t have this volume at home. There fun, detailed illustrations, goofy puns, over the top slapstick, and endless love between the characters seriously melts my heart every time I pick them up. Though I have to admit, the Secret Weapon sure is a bigger shitshow than I realized as a kid…

The Barnabus Project

This is a new Canadian picture book I’ve been meaning to get my hands on for a few months. It is very neat. It’s a bit more of an involved adventure story than you often see in picture books, while still not entering the domain of graphic novel or chapter book. It’s about a company that genetically engineers “perfect” pets for the public to buy. But deep beneath the storefront, well under the streets, are the sinister labs where the “failed” projects are kept, waiting to be recycled back into parts. This is where Barnabus lives, and this is where Barnabus and his friends must break free from. A thrilled little book with adorable art!

Bunnicula

This is actually my first time reading this book, though I’ve meant to ever since I was a kid. For anyone that doesn’t know this classic, it’s told from the point of view of the family dog, who witnesses his owners bring home a strange new pet: a pet rabbit named Bunnicula, with black fur that looks like a cape and the strangest teeth ever seen on a rabbit… The housecat is even more alarmed, and the two of them begin to investigate the strange occurrences going on around the rabbit and protect their family from sinister forces. It’s a very cute chapter book and a nice soft intro to the “horror” genre without going quite as dark as Goosebumps.

Care Bears: Unlock The Magic

This was… hm. Something. It was cute. The art of this graphic novel has certainly modernized the care bears from their original style, but it’s not a bad thing — the simple, bold shapes are actually pretty enjoyable. You have the care bears on a mission to protect the land of these strange new creatures from dark, “heartless” forces. Overall, if you’re in the mood for something soft and nostalgic that’s been transported into 2020, it’s not a bad read... though I can’t say it wow’ed me.

Emma and the Blue Genie

Another adorable novella (chapter book? Somewhere between the two?) by Cornelia Funke who I don’t think is capable of writing a bad story. Like all her books, this one is charming and whimsical and feels strangely classic. Emma and her wiener dog Tristan sneak out of their house one night for some peace and quiet, and discover an unusual bottle that washes up on the shore. When they release it, a small blue genie is released and Emma learns of the horrible events that befell him and his master in a far off land. A horrible yellow genie stole the source of his magic, forcing him into this small, weakened form, and has besieged the land now that the blue genie is out of the way. The blue genie seems to heartbroken that Emma can’t help but promise her help, and accompanies him across the sea… A fun little story for anyone that enjoyed Aladdin.

The Erth Dragons: The Wearle

The first miserable failure of a book I read this month. I couldn’t finish it and didn’t even try. It sounded like cool scifi dragons, but what I got was a pack of sixty dragons off exploring. A team that included a grand total of three female dragons. Who are there for, it seems, breeding. One of which is fridged immediately to jump start the main character’s story. This is a book I may have read in middle school, but I was thrilled to realize I actually have choices now and don’t need to tolerate this shit. Do not fucking bother, the world building is obnoxious as well.

 Flawed Dogs

Now this one was a delight. As quirky and bizarre and charming as Berkeley Breathed’s work always is. This is a novel that starts with a prized pure-bred dachshund, Sam the Lion, one who is a once in a life time example of doggy bred perfection. However things get mixed up on his way to the snobby dog-show-loving owner who purchased him and he ends up instead in the arms of a young girl who adores him as only children can, completely indifferent to any “perfection” he may have. The happiness of girl and dog fosters resentment in the household’s other dog, a show dog who is pampered but not loved. So begins a horrible sequence of events that sees Sam cast out of the house, horribly mutilated, and left to fend for himself in a cruel world. Flawed Dogs manages to deliver both dogs with rocket-propulsive farts as well as grim questions about what the nature of life, perfection, and vengeance means to a wronged party who has had his life destroyed beyond all recognition.

This was my favourite book of the month, and I would HIGHLY recommend it, but maybe give it a miss if you’re squicked by animal brutality because this book delivers very funny moments, very heartwarming moments, and very upsetting animal abuse in fairly equal measure.

The Land of Stories: The Wishing Spell

The second disappointing book of the month. I’ve heard so many good things about this series! About how it’s gotten so many kids to fall in love with reading and series and more complex narratives! I’ve been really excited to read it, because I love me a twisted fairy-tale. Unfortunately this seems to be a very good series for kids, and a very poor story for adults who are used to the tropes of a basic fairy-tale inspired fantasy novel. The writing was unfortunately bland and it was chockablock of clichés and stereotypes that are frankly rather unappealing. Maybe things get better as it progresses, but the series didn’t hold my interest for long enough for me to find out. Honestly, it just made me want to go and reread Inkheart instead.

Little Tails in the Jungle

The Little Tails series is an adorable blend of picture book, comic, and nonfiction educational. It shows Chipper and Squizzo as they adventure around different ecosystems and interact with the wildlife there, sharing interesting facts and trying to keep out of trouble. It’s a pleasant read for an adult that likes well done wildlife art, and fantastic for kids that are craving accessible nonfiction content about animals.

When Santa Fell to Earth

My second Cornelia Funke novella of the month. This is a Christmas favourite of mine, and I reread it around December every couple years or so. In this story, Nikolas is a young Santa who is on the run. The North Pole has been taken over by a faction of Santa’s who have given up on the traditional values of Christmas and have decided instead to focus on a more sterilized, corporate type of Christmas, one with clear present transactions and a hefty bottom line. Any dissenting Santas are hunted down and dealt with. Nikolas is one of the sole surviving rebel Santas who has managed to stay ahead of the Santa hunters… or he had, until his reindeer panics in a thunderstorm and sends his caravan crashing down to earth, to broken to lift off again. Stuck at the side of a little residential street, Nikolas befriends a couple of local children who help him, his elves, and his angels try to get things sorted out and ready to go before Christmas — or the Santa hunters — arrive.

Wintersmith

More Pratchett, and in this case another seasonally appropriate read. This is the third book of the Tiffany Aching series, in which Tiffany, a young apprentice witch, joins her mentor at the secretive dark morris dance, a ritual that happens in the winter to welcome the changing of the seasons, just as the regular morris dance heralds summer. Tiffany, though, doesn’t just hear the music but feels it in bones, and before she knows it she finds herself compelled to join in, to fill in a strange empty spot she can’t look away from. She does, in fact, find herself dancing with the Wintersmith, and now there are snowflakes coming down with her face crafted into them, frost that lovingly spells out her name, and a winter that doesn’t seem inclined to leave anytime soon. Tiffany made a mistake, and now people are going to die if she doesn’t do something.