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purple-ktj · 4 years ago

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So What

Part 2/3 of the mini celebration for EpiphanyxWinterBear's first anniversary! I dug this post out of my drafts and finally completed it.

This is just an excuse to fangirl and trend their So What moments throughout the Love Yourself Tour all over again. The moment most known to all in the fandom and also widely labeled as fanservice. We saw many heated, flirty, cute moments, that we forget it isn't consistently so at every single performance. Their interactions vary a lot, maybe depending on their mood, the conditions on that day, or if there's family in the crowd.

And before I begin, this post started months ago and I slowly compiled it together while enjoying their So What fancams, it wasn’t done in one shot. Just in case some might get the impression I’m jobless enough to be doing this lol.

Somebody call me right one Somebody call me wrong I’m not gonna care about it Why don’t you as well

25 Aug 2018 Seoul Olympic Stadium D1

For the first few dates, they're playful, innocent, going along with the flow.

26 Aug 2018 Seoul Olympic Stadium D2

05 Sep 2018 LA Staples Center D1

06 Sep 2018 LA Staples Center D2

08 Sep 2018 LA Staples Center D3

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5eDKQjrWPU)

This is their first 'solid' So What moment initiated by Jin. Tae is sort of visibly a little stunned at the boldness and the fact that he started this, also not knowing what he's intending to do exactly. And here we already have Yoongi watching them closely. In the video Namjoon is seen behind, jaw a little tensed but letting them be. He just watches them cautiously through the mini monitor and standing close by.

Also, this is the same day Jin sang "You have shown me I have reasons I should love myself" to Tae directly. Tae is caught off guard but he quickly catches up and encourages Jin to sing his verse. This is so sweet. The verses they sing to each other at the randomest/unexpected moments hold a lot of weight in the meaning of the lyrics. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLdHDWRpLfM)

09 Sep 2018 LA Staples Center D4

He's checking the monitor, sees Jin coming from behind. Jin's eyes are fixed on him while they dance off rather sexily. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMgRwB2W6ZM)

12 Sep 2018 Oakland Oracle Arena

It's Namjoon's birthday, they don't mess around on their Leader's birthday. Namjoon switched on vlive after this concert, to celebrate his birthday with Army. That night we were all blessed with Namjoon, OT7 live, one of the more subtle Taejin moments, and also the 4 o'clock joke made by Jin. Also there was a little moment of intense staring from Tae to Jin in the middle of the chaos.

"Stay here and sing 4 o'clock with Namjoon, then come to my room after that." (I don't remember the exact words said, this is entirely based off memory)

15 Sep 2018 Fort Worth

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aASOM3x-Nu8)

They're goofing around while Namjoon watches over them with his arms crossed and he doesn't move away till he's sure nothing's going to happen because he knows how unpredictable they are.

16 Sep 2018 Fort Worth D2

They do a mildly sexy dance, though nothing much happens. But I’m very amused by Jungkook who brushes past them really close. It's almost as if he’s discreetly making sure nothing happens. Recall BV1 when he tried to block the main camera from disturbing Taejin’s intimate hug? Same vibes.

20 Sep 2018 Hamilton

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WU1lVgQGH2s)

Things start getting a little spicier here. Jimin sees Jin going to Taehyung and he looks back at his best friend with a knowing look. Jin comes closer cautiously to gauge Taehyung’s reaction and the moment he removes his glasses and comes nearer the both of them sexy dance with mild tension. Playful flirting; jerking their hips towards each other and rolling their shoulders, they're so close that they're nearly grinding on stage. A good reminder here that Jin doesn't do these flirtatious/sexy gestures unless it's Tae, I very much like seeing Tae bringing this side out of him. Yoongi behind looks at the monitor and realises what’s about to happen so he just looks a little done and walks away. J-Hope is there checking the monitor and shaking his head. And, what exactly is Tae looking at? Army bomb?

22 Sep 2018 Hamilton D2

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=caSsxs7FMjM)

I am so amused by Yoongi because he's half in disbelief and half done with them. Namjoon’s looking at the huge monitor and his hand gesture tells me he’s also done with them. Their tension is thicker, Tae's flicking his hair and I don’t know why but the way Jin’s got his hair slicked off showing his forehead makes it even sexier. He’s exuding so much confidence when he walks seductively towards Tae and their tension here is incredible. While Tae is naturally sensual most of the time (when he's not being cute), Jin’s body language here is very loud. Seducing, flirting, not paying attention to anything else except Tae while jerking his hips like that. The both of them make a point staring down each other’s bodies as well. At the end it’s Taehyung who poked Jin’s chest to make him look at the camera. Yeah, again, I love it when Tae pulls out this side of Jin because it's so sexy.

I absolutely have to highlight this 'alpha'/dominative behaviour by Jin. Again, something we only got to see thanks to Tae. He's absolutely owning and feeling their moment together.

23 Sep 2018 Hamilton D3

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Md_uGYnQSoo)

A lot happens. This is the first time Taehyung initiates. I’ve seen the HD posts of this but even with this fancam and the overexposed shots, I can still see Taehyung staring at Jin’s lips and they get lost in their own world for a whole of 2 seconds before Taehyung blinks and snaps out of it. Jin has his eyes fixed on Taehyung’s eyes, he knows Taehyung was staring at his lips. What really gets me is the way they're swaying their entire bodies in tune with each other while maintaining eye contact. The. Tension. Is. Crazy.

Notable parts from this moment, Jimin seeing the huge monitor and realizing that his best friend and his hyung is flirting big scale and he can’t help but smile. Jungkook also looks at the huge monitor and he’s also laughing. He dances past the front camera and I have the suspicion he did that on purpose to disrupt the tension because it really was too obvious and a lot to take in.

28 Sep 2018 Newark

After a few days of sexy-ing up, they go for something cute. Arguably one of the cutest with a tiny little bit of tension mixed in moment. Not sexual tension but “your eyes hold the galaxy” sort of tension. The “we can’t kiss so we'll knock our foreheads together” sort of tension. This is the first time Jin comes running to him like a puppy, this moment is pretty much the highlight not just for us, but the both of them.

29 Sep 2018 Newark D2

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATl-wXRo7ds)

A lot to unpack for this one. First, Yoongi, J-Hope, Jimin and Jungkook wandering around in the back watching the screen. Yoongi looks more wary than usual. This time they don’t stare into each other’s eyes and get lost in their own world but Kim Taehyung did something completely unexpected. He taps Jin’s arm, then taps his own chin then puckers his lips. I don’t know what to think...? What were his intentions? They weren’t making bedroom eyes at each other, there wasn’t much tension, it felt playful, but he asks for a kiss? On stage? Or was he asking Jin to blow a kiss with him? Then why would he pucker his lips in Jin’s face? Jin most definitely saw it and compensates(?) by making a kissy face at the camera with Taehyung after that.

I really would have believed that Taehyung wanted Jin to blow a kiss at the camera with him but his whole body is turned to Jin and he’s only looking at Jin and he even taps his chin as if asking for a kiss on his lips. Trying his luck? What? One of So What’s biggest mysteries for me. Although in hindsight maybe I shouldn't be too surprised considering they have a fair number of moments where they intended to kiss, nearly kissed or was ready to risk it all.

02 Oct 2018 Chicago

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YnGSs4bYfI)

They toned down a little. Nothing much happened but it’s interesting to notice that as Taejin’s verse starts, the other members instinctively look at the huge monitor. Understandably, because they’re too unpredictable in their interactions which make the others wary sometimes.

03 Oct 2018 Chicago D2

For the first time, they get directly interrupted. I think this is the funniest So What moment in the whole tour. They come at each other fully intending to flirt but Jimin gets cheeky and decides to join in. He passes straight through Taejin who were sexy dancing each other and blocks the camera. Playful or intentional, I can’t tell but it’s still cute regardless.

06 Oct 2018 New York Citifield

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwIJOZichz8)

Some mild flirting, shoulder rolling, Taehyung fixes his gaze on Jin but that’s about it. But Tae's gaze? Eat!Jin.

09 Oct 2018 London

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U42CefwN80E)

Before Jin even reaches Taehyung, Yoongi is already there waiting and watching what they’re going to do. At first the other members would stand a distance away, look at the monitors and just let them be. The bolder Taejin gets the more they just stand right in their faces so Taejin can’t get lost in their world of tension. So far it's been Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon that I wonder at which point the other members decided to intervene to make sure they don't accidentally do something drastic (like kissing)?

10 Oct 2018 London D2

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xt65Yzd80EI)

Another one of their funniest and sexiest moments. I can’t see Jimin’s face but his whole being is going “Really Tae? Really? You’re going to do this to your soulmate?” But Taehyung is only focused on Jin who’s coming and he physically pulls Jimin away from him. The difference in Taehyung’s body language when he’s got Jimin and Jin in front of him is SO obvious. BFF vs BF? He steps right into Jin’s personal space biting his lips and he’s not even looking at his face. He’s so focused on Jin’s lips, chest, moving seductively. Jin’s no different, again, his hair slicked back gives him that edge and extra confidence. He's also staring down Taehyung’s body while jerking his hips. Namjoon is nearby and you can see how done he is with Taejin.

I can't not say this. Their intentions towards each other is crystal clear. He's definitely not looking at the army bomb here.

13 Oct 2018 Amsterdam

One of my personal favorites. Before this he used to give his strong piercing gaze at the front camera while Jin comes running to him. This time he gives this really raw Kim Taehyung expression; ‘just a regular guy in love’ look. “I’m just waiting for my Jinnie to come to me”. And the moment he does, BAM. They flirt like they’re teenagers in front of their crushes checking each other out.

16 Oct 2018 Berlin

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DBp5ty6i-w)

Told to toned down or they simply didn't feel like going feral at each other? I don't know. The way they switch modes every single time. Playful, intense, or just plain cute.

17 Oct 2018 Berlin D2

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbOUVIHqnp8)

Whatever it is going on with Taejin’s So What moments got at least 3 other members coming in to join them. Whatever flirting they may or may not have intended that day is thwarted off by killing the tension between them.

19 Oct 2018 Paris

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWlHou1Un9U)

Blurry but I must say I really like the way Jin is carrying himself here. He’s just confident, not holding back and he exposes his neck to Tae while mildly doing the sexy dance. I wish there was HD, but even without it, the tension is palpable enough. Taehyung’s got his Eat!Jin face on. Besides his shoulders, Tae probably has something for his neck as well, considering the number of times he's held Jin's neck, not just for massages.

20 Oct 2018 Paris D2

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_akqf3Qgy8)

The soulmate joins them again, and his body language screams “No flirting under my watch”. Taehyung has an arm around his shoulder but he shrugs it off. What stunned me most about this moment is Jin actually tried to push his arm away but he shrugs that off too, that even Tae is dumbfounded. He resolutely goes in between them and sings at the camera as if nothing happens. Which gives me the impression that he might have been told or asked to stop Taejin from flirting and begrudgingly did so. Meanwhile Jin is determined to have his moment alone with Tae, and he's pretty possessive about it.

Additionally, all of the other members are hovering around them and carefully watching the both of them. I suppose if us audience/viewers at home can feel how thick their tension is, it must be even greater on stage itself that they’re determined to cut it off by any means.

They may not have gotten their So What moment this day, but earlier on Jin did sing "because we're forever" to Tae during DNA. Paris, city of love. Remember their back hug in Bring the Soul?

13 Nov 2018 Tokyo Dome

Aggressively hyping each other up. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-oJYhw_CyQ)

On the same day we have this lovely moment of Tae dashing across the stage to hug his Jin-hyung. Tae's expression of bliss while holding on to Jin is so precious.

14 Nov 2018 Tokyo Dome D2

Another of their cutest moment but funny to look at when zoomed out because they're got Yoongi, Jimin, Namjoon and even Hobi surrounding them as they butt their heads together. Everyone's joining in the moment.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pAm0u8ATf8)

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjPxnd89oqA)

21 Nov 2018 Osaka Kyocera Dome

Adorable dorks. First they're dancing together, and then they're having a mini staring show down, joined by Jimin later on. Although I did find it interesting that Hobi was hovering around Taejin, watching them on the huge screen right when Jimin came in and headed straight for the camera. Hobi usually doesn't move a muscle to stop them, he watches over them and laughs when they're being cute together, and at most shakes his head. Or signals them to stop by giving a warning look.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hzkWznF05-U)

23 Nov 2018 Osaka Kyocera Dome D2

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIBgEiTanJA)

I would like to take a moment to appreciate this more. Jin's expression, his posture, Tae stuck to his side looking at him like that. If Jin just turned his head we would have gotten a magnificent kiss. Honestly, as baby as Jin is, I don't think he's ever displayed this level of 'baby' behaviour anywhere else. He's soaking up the attention, and happily flirting back. Their expressions? Priceless.

Taejin was a whole mood that day, because even backstage they were cuddly and soft with each other. I'm about to cry because of how soft Jin looks while Tae is smug. I would love to know what led to this moment and what happened after that.

24 Nov 2018 Osaka Kyocera Dome D3

No words needed? Okay, maybe just one. Married. They might as well have kissed, I think they'd be let off the hook.

In my head, this part where Tae drags Jin around the stage to bow to the audience together feels a little like "Everyone, look, my boyfriend!" Jin can obviously free himself and run off, but of course he goes along with Tae, clearly loving it despite kicking Tae's butt a couple of times.

08 Dec 2018 Taoyuan

Why haven't they kissed, again?

09 Dec 2018 Taoyuan D2

12 Jan 2019 Nagoya Dome

(https://twitter.com/taejin_castella/status/1084045509491273728?s=20)

A few things here that absolutely killed me, their gazes, Tae tugging on Jin's shirt (what was he trying to do?) and Jin's tippy toes. Because they're nearly the same height and Jin has to tiptoe to touch their foreheads and prevent accidental kisses.

Also the same day this heart melting hug happened. He's nuzzled into Jin's nape though Jin gets a little self conscious. But he's still holding on to Tae's hand on his stomach. This deserves a few angles.

(https://twitter.com/taejin_castella/status/1084057286526480384?s=20)

(https://twitter.com/taejin_castella/status/1084070342316814336?s=20)

(https://twitter.com/taejin_castella/status/1084046607174103042?s=20)

13 Jan 2019 Nagoya Dome D2

I will never get over Tae's shy smile when Jin ran up to him, so pure and raw.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRBHVe3hSKE)

(https://twitter.com/taejin_castella/status/1084404017344569344?s=20)

19 Jan 2019 Singapore National Stadium

One of those days they choose to go feral. Also, Tae’s hand on Jin’s waist before they grab each other’s hair.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZS5-nuPwbks)

16 Feb 2019 Fukuoka Dome

This is what risking it all looks like. Exactly IT. If it weren't for that mic and Jin's neck veins popping out- last split second restraints.

That aside, this is one pretty crazy moment. The intensity of their moods here, if they had actually thrown away their restraints and kissed I don't think it'd end with a simple peck. Also that finger under the chin, a nice little nugget of insight as to how they are in private, probably?

17 Feb 2019 Fukuoka Dome D2

They were at their peak in Japan really.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZxQNzXI1uo)

Firstly, Jin's jacket. Second the mic flipping.

Third, Tae can't keep his tongue still. There's just something to be said about the way they maintained thorough eye contact while Tae was teasing with his tongue and Namjoon took the trouble; had to, to make sure it didn't escalate.

20 Mar 2019 Hong Kong

Not sure why they had to make those expressions while pulling on each other's clothes. Right as Namjoon comes running towards them.

And I love fansites for capturing these moments. Palm on the chest.

21 Mar 2019 Hong Kong D2

Namjoon joins them again. Not sure if he's on 'guard duty' while they're in Hong Kong, but we get Kim line together and Kim line is superior.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xbo3RYsLVpQ)

23 Mar 2019 Hong Kong D3

One of their mildest So What moments where they don't do anything and just stand next to each other and it's still sweet. Taejin isn't always chaotic and unpredictable, but Namjoon is always there to watch over them. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JX7-oUtfKhQ)

24 Mar 2019 Hong Kong D4

Namjoon was close by for their So What moments after that one time in Fukuoka where they nearly risked it all. For the next few dates, they've toned it down a fair bit. Warned by staff, probably? (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ib-GA-oF-_c)

06 Apr 2019 Bangkok

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Dig8Su9BJQ)

07 Apr 2019 Bangkok D2

Bro fist day.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZFI-BVHt1Y)

04 May 2019 LA Rose Bowl

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixU_oJZqNl4)

05 May 2019 LA Rose Bowl D2

For the first time in the history of So What, they did not interact, not even standing side by side. Honestly I'm a little stunned by this. Although this does not mean they did not have any moments at all because believe they had a cute sing along together during Make It Right.

I've read tweets where Taejin did not really interact on the days they had family/management in the audience. Though I'm not sure which days.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xSTAPEhsPQ)

11 May 2019 Chicago Soldier Field

Tae gave his hat and sunglasses to Jin. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3BDRMlXTjE)

12 May 2019 Chicago Soldier Field

It was raining, and they were really cold. Jin's ears were red because of it. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OQa2rsN19U)

18 May 2019 New Jersey Metlife

Just when I thought I found another no interaction So What moment, I realised Tae's on the floor instead. And they're joined by Jikook.

19 May 2019 New Jersey Metlife D2

Taejin gave each other 'piggybacks' which don't resemble any sort of piggyback I've seen in my life ever, it was a lot to take in. This is the one I can't stomach. It's too... visually overwhelming for me. The way they were behaving was so wild I can't watch out of secondhand embarrassment. Tae had his leg tight around Jin's crotch and despite the pain that definitely caused him, he looks pretty hyper and excited. You can tell they love and trust each other so much Tae did not care if he fell off while... bouncing on Jin's back. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rnrF-xsmOw)

25 May 2019 Sao Paulo

Tae got flustered by Jin standing over him like that. And if you can't see clearly, the second photo is Taejin with Kook hugging the both of them. I know there's another similar Vmin moment when Jimin looked at Tae from behind and they were smiling happily together though I'm far too lazy to search for it. Another BFF vs BF type interaction. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hwmlcs5RqPY)

26 May 2019 Sao Paulo

Jin does it again, though Tae was already expecting it and he wasn't as surprised as the day before. They share a lovely moment laying down on the floor together. Joined by Yoongi, Namjoon and JK.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmVVS42_GWE)

01 Jun 2019 London Wembley

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fV9zVMPBQc)

02 Jun 2019 London Wembley D2

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4JynTyBqGg)

07 Jun 2019 Paris D1

One of their cutest moments, Jin resting on Tae's head.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vm3BL5Dgk8)

08 Jun 2019 Paris D2

Another one of their cutest moments. Jin could have ran earlier if he really wanted to, but he stayed and played along with Tae and let him spray water. Most importantly, they're really happy together. Those smiles are priceless.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnWp8lyde3o)

06 Jul 2019 Osaka

Can't find fancams! Unfortunate that we don't have this in HD yet, but I think this is my favourite Taejin moment in the whole of So What. I have never gotten over how happy they are together here. And that's Jin's famous 'slush' smile?

07 Jul 2019 Osaka D2

Taejinkook!

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1bo8azOY9A)

13 Jul 2019 Shizuoka/14 Jul 2019 Shizuoka D2

Can't find anything from these dates, but this happened. This is also the same day they were filmed backstage and Taejin were sitting together on the couch with Namjoon and Yoongi, and Jin rested his hand pretty high up on Tae's inner thigh but removed it the moment cameras started rolling. We also had Taejin's famous hug-for-no-reason moment on the huge screen but never had any HDs of it.

11 Oct 2019 Riyadh King Fadh

This is their first concert after their vacation ended. During their airport appearance it was the first time Tae was seen without his interlocking bracelet, marking the 2 years of dedication in wearing Jin's gift every single day. The bracelet may be gone, but it doesn't change the fact that Taejin is as close as ever, or even closer than before.

Since they're in Saudi, they couldn't really do anything except have their moment looking at each other with a respectable distance. Readily joined by Namjoon and JK. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YAK1MzjUJCQ)

Besides their eye contact above, I'd like to add one more significant moment from this concert. Back during HYYH era during their Wings concert, Tae did all sorts of things like confessing his love to Jin, fainting on stage when Jin did his love confession to Army, kissed a ball before handing it over to Jin, getting on one knee to give Jin a rose a.k.a proposed to him. 4 years later, the love confession has reached a full circle and Jin directly gave him the rose without hesitation. It breaks me to see him holding on to the rose and simply looking at it for a few moments.

He's had moments where he picks up or asks the rose for the from Jin to keep under his hat but this is the first time he's been handed the rose personally. Romantic boy much?

26 Oct 2019 Seoul Olympic Stadium

I was there, saw this on the huge screen and had a shock of my life although I did not get to think about it for long because the rest of the concert was still ongoing. So at first glance I naturally thought Tae kissed his cheek for real, also because Jin looked shocked after Tae bumped into him purposely. But alas no, it's only a chin and chest bump? I don't get it either way. But good for them.

(https://twitter.com/taejin_castella/status/1188076291125235712?s=20)

27 Oct 2019 Seoul Olympic Stadium D2

It's going to be a year soon since this moment happened, but I still cannot believe Jin actually did that. Highlight, Tae's voice stretching when Jin lifted his head. Also JK being clueless and adorable. He looked like he's been told that he'll be on 'guard duty' that day so he gotta handle whatever Taejin does on stage and make sure they don't escalate and risk it all again. Little did he know Taejin would be lying down on the floor and he can't really or doesn't really want to do anything about it.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzSwlu3a9hY)

29 Oct 2019 Seoul Olympic Stadium D3

Bang PD was in the audience for this one. I believe Tae said "Are you the Kim Seokjin?" And Jin replied something, I don't know if the translations are accurate.

(https://twitter.com/taejinpp/status/1189155088289288192)

Notice how on the final 2/3 days, Jungkook is the one standing with Taejin, though he doesn't really do anything and just lets them be? Especially on the second day where he just looked adorably lost and turned back, his eyes screaming for help from his other hyungs but no one's bothered. It feels like he was told to and reluctantly agreed to make sure they don't escalate or risk it all again.

I still vividly remember the way Taejinnies thought they could expect the long awaited kiss, only to be disappointed. I truly understand how ridiculous that sounds, because a kiss is not gonna happen anytime this decade, whether their CEO and family was in the audience or not. But a tiny part of me thinks, after making this post, Taejinnies aren't exactly at fault for maybe feeling a tiny bit hopeful that Taejin would close off this major chapter in their history with an actual kiss because of how they behaved and built up their moments.

They were most likely given a warning after their Fukuoka moment because they ceased their interactions to just standing beside each other (except for that wild piggyback), and Namjoon is pretty much watching over them. It was only after their vacation that they continued to hype up So What. I received an ask about this, but it'll be posted later on. An anon asked why so intense at this part of the song? Is it because of the lyrics? I believe so, though ironically they do have to care about what others think of them being that intimate. At the very least, they did prove some major points by nearly risking it all and showing us how much they themselves look forward to and are possessive over this moment.

Lastly, the next one will be an asks post so you can send in all you want and I'll post it before 12am tomorrow. Anything after or too complicated for me to answer immediately will be left for next time. There's been a number of really entertaining asks and I'm loving it a lot, thank you for reading and interacting with me 💜

#vjin #taejin #taehyung #seokjin #Kim taehyung #Kim seokjin #so what #epiphanyxwinterbear

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 4 years ago

Text

From the drafts...

I wrote this in the middle of the night the first time I went swimming for the year, but went to sleep without ever finishing it. Now I’m posting it just a couple of days before what will probably be my last swim for the year. (Happening early this year. The pool cools fast and night temps in the low 50F will make it too cold for me.) Funny how that worked out.

I’m posting it as it is, rather than try to finish it. If I waited any longer I’d be in my post-swimming blues and not in the mood....

It’s amazing how, despite remembering I love it, I’m always stunned by the pure joy I feel the first time I swim each year.

Actually, when I went swimming last evening it wasn’t just the first time I’d gone this year, but the first time since 2018. Skipping swimming last year was my first lost year ever. I’d never gone so long without swimming in my life, unless you count the time before I learned to swim. Since I can’t actually remember learning, and I since I can also remember an event that occured on my second birthday, I must have been very young.

To say I love swimming would be an understatement. Swimming isn’t a diversion, but a part of me. All my life I couldn’t even look at water without the desire to leap in and dive down deep to the bottom.

Any water. In fact I kind of prefer wild water. Growing up I’d swim a mile up river and a mile back every day in the summer. I’d swim around the boat, diving down to the bottom if the river and pausing on the anchor line to clear my ears. At the ocean I’d almost never be out of the water, enjoying storm tossed seas and rips, swimming out to something I think was a boiler off a sunken ship to climb about. Even the shallow streams on our mountain would have my lying in the water while I sifted through the silt for garnets or caught crayfish. I prefered the deepest of water, the coldest of temperatures, and the strongest of currents, but anything would do.

I can’t tell you when my need to go in started. Apparently as a tiny baby my father and grandfather took me on the river one winter day...and I ended up falling in. A year or so later I fell in again, but this one I remember. Not why I went over the side of the boat, but I remember the way the sunlight looked like through the brownish water and a rather startled fish I came face to face with before Pop hauled me out. On the ride home I was convinced I looked like a cartoon character frozen in a block of ice, because it was winter of course. Once at the beach while snowflakes fell I stunned my parents by running out into the surf in my snowsuit. I was alway jumping in, clothes and all, whenever I had the chance.

Now the pool was never as much fun as those other places, but I loved it too. The pool was ours, a private place right here and convient. As pools go, it has never been entirely tame. It’s tucked in the little woods, surrounded and overhung with trees. Once a grapevine hung down over the water so I could pick grapes when the ripened. Birds would take drinks and bees and dragonflies always flew about the place. There were the occasional snake that got in, despite the high sides, and always there were frogs, tadpoles, waterbugs and the like. Pop had rigged up his own filtration system that required less chlorine and aerated the water by spraying it through the air at angle creating a kind of current and waves. With me the only person swimming in it 90% of the time, we could afford to let it stay a bit wild.

Now the pool itself started out ordinary enough. For a little while it was your typical above ground pool with a plastic liner. This lasted until the summer of the collapsing pool. Or rather, the twice collaping pool.

The first time it collapsed it really was an accident. It begins with my brother’s fear of water. Now, he grew out of that fear, but where my childhood instinct called me to water his caused him recoil. As a tiny child he would “swim” with me wearing his good life jacket. And this day he was doing just that while I say on a folding ladder I’d hauled into the middle of the pool to play on...as one does.

I should confess I did torment him without meaning to back then. I’d heard adults say they learned to swim by being thrown into water. Being a little girl, I thought these grownups might know what they were talking about. I figured that my brother just needed to learn he would be alright. I honestly thought I could teach him not to fear by towing him away from where he was clinging, warn him to hold his breath, and then duck him under for a instant before his life jacket bobbed him back up.

Yes, I know this is horrible. I didn’t know it then is the trouble. It was only when I was slightly older I figured out this was absolutely the wrong thing to do. Unfortunately one summer of maybe a half dozen incidents of such stupidity caused permanent damage. I meant well, but it was the worst thing I ever did to him. Apologies I have made many times over the decades, and his own shaking off his fear of water anyway fixed nothing. He never has and never will forgive me.**

Anyway, my brother was afraid of the water, but “swimming” with me in his life jacket. He had developed a way to enjoy the water but still feel safe by crawling in between the liner and the pool wall. His arms would splash about but he’s stay dry. Until he started wanting some water on him, and took to trying to let water into his little pocket shelter...

This was a BAD idea.

Those old above ground pools were really stable because of the water pressure and the liner being against the pool wall. A few splashes of water are no big deal, but once he started holding the edge of the liner below the surface of the water so it gushed in everything changed.

So, one minute I was sitting on the ladder I’d set up in the middle of the pool, about to go back to swimming. The next, the pool was collapsing in a great sudden whoosh, the sides literally scraping down along my body. The water was gone, the pool sides folded in, and my brother was missing.

For a second it was terrible. The part of the pool my brother had been was now flattened, and the liner was still holding a couple of inches of water. I thought my brother would be trapped in the liner, pinned by the pool side, and face down in water. I was scrambling, franticly trying to get him out.

I shoved myself under the pool side, through the water, trying to get to him. At the same moment he came crawling out of the other side of where I’d gone under. He was crying but fine as Pop came running up. I just has scrapes on my sides, no big deal. But the pool was down.

I was still early enough in the summer we got the pool back up. Unfortunately for my parents, they didn’t take into acount our curiosity.

Somehow I’d figured out what had caused the collapse, that it had been my brother putting the water behind the liner. But thinking I knew wasn’t enough. I wanted to test it.

This wasn’t my first dangerous test

. Once I’d fallen out of a car my grandfather was driving. This was before seatbelt laws, so I’d not been fastened in, and I was maybe four. I’d gone to the bank with him, and was leaning on the door as he started to drive off. Out I fell, but I hung tight to the door so I guess I didn’t exactly fall. I pulled myself up even as granddaddy stopped.

It was a close call, and poor my poor grandfather must have been terrified. So what did I do once we finished the drive home? I tried to recreate the incident, and I totally suceeded! I made sure the door was latched the same way and that I did everything the same. Obviously I didn’t want my grandfather to know what I was doing, but I wasn’t afraid. I’d held myself up before, so knowing what I was doing I was confident I would have no trouble.

Well, we were now zipping along the highway, which is different than a parking lot, it was a tad more trouble. Oh, I held myself up, but I did end up with skinned knees. It’s a miracle my grandfather with his bad heart trouble didn’t have a heart attack! I was elated because I’d been right about what had happened.

What can I say? I was weird kid, fearless and bursting with curiosity back then.

With the pool collapse another mystery to solve, I decided to see if I could make it happen again. This time it would be safer. We’d know the risks. My brother wouldn’t be in danger as I put water in the liner without him there. He was in on it, but it was my idea.

Crazy isn’t it? I loved swimming but I was sacrificing my chance to swim for the rest of the summer just to see if my theory was right.

Well, I was right. And also Pop was fed up.This was when Pop decided to build our own pool with no liners.

My family had a fiberglassing business, everything designed by Pop and hand built by us, so building the sides like a giant tank wasn’t that hard. He would also include flanges at the top and bottom if the sides, just to make it more stable. This pool would not collapse. Over the years hurricanes knocked trees on it several times and we’d just repair the breaks.

TBH, I worry about that happening now with no Pop, no fiberglassig business, and no other set of hands. It was easy then, but I dunno of I could do that kind of repair myself.

Pop had one other idea. Because I was always complaining the pool wasn’t deep enough, we would also make it an underground pool!

Now with mechanical equipment this would have been easy, but we had shovels and four people, two of them children. So we dug. And dug. And dug. If you look at the pictures I posted of the pool you can see how bumpy it is. That’s because of the digging by hand, not Pop’s fiberglassing.

When we’d dug it six feet or so down, slopping from the sides, we fiberglassed directly onto the ground. The weight of the water would hold it safely down, but if it was empty or nearly so rain or pumping out for cleaning too close to the pool might float it up. If that happened it would crack any place it was unsupported when filled. So Pop came up with the “hatch” that would blow and let the water into the pool rather than floating. In all the many years the hatch has blown a couple times, but it always did it’s job.

The pool would never be as deep or as wide as I’d like, but I’m not sure any pool could.

Back then I could practically live in the pool, swimming for hours, swooping back and forth across the bottom, clinging to the “hatch” at the very bottom as I tested how long I could hold me breath.

Actually, holding my breath five minutes was ordinary and my swimming endurance was incredible. People could swim faster, but no one could swim longer than me. I wouldn’t even seem to get tired. I actually longed to swim the English Channel because it seemed suited to my talents.

How much did I love swimming? Well, when I graduated from high school we could pick from a long list of symbols representing school activities to go on the side. So what did I come very close to picking? Not the academic crap you’d expect from the top student, but the swimmer. Our school didn’t even have a pool! Swimming had NOTHING to do with school, but it have everything to do with me.

Even now I think I am happiest gliding across the bottom of the pool. I play games with it. Swim across the bottom with just your arms, or just your legs, or one leg or one arm. One of the first things I did this year was see if I could still do the undulating, no arms amd no legs just wiggle your body method. Yep, I still can be the human porpoise! LOL

So swimming always meant a lot to me. Sure, after the “Halloween Hypothermia” (not actually at Halloween or hypothermia) where I got way too cold swimming my system rebooted over night so I couldn’t take cold water, but my love of swimming was unchanged. I just got so my swimming season was shorter. The idea of not swimming for a year was unthinkable...

Until it happened.

I really feared I would never get the pool clean again, now that I have to do it alone. Getting to swim this year is beyond wonderful. At least I haven’t lost swimming like I have lost so much else lately.

**I could point out his grudge over something I did when I was just learning my multiplication table isn’t exactly fair. It’s rather less fair when you consider the things he did to me over the years that I never hated him for. He did a LOT of things as the suffering he went through in school twisted him into someone burning with rage.

I mean, when he put a loaded gun to my head and threatened to kill me, yeah, it wasn’t fun, but I also understood the context, that he was using me as a focus of other frustrations and pain. I didn’t hate him, I just wanted him never to get his hands on a gun again and for there to be some way to make things better for him.

I guess though, it all boils down to his nature. He remembers every wound and slight, sometimes imagining them even, and he never, ever forgives anything.

#swimming #swimming pool #water #me

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hergan416 · 5 years ago

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First line meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @touchmycoat and I will pass this on to anyone who wants to do it. Even if I don't follow you, or you don't think I mean you, I mean you if you think this sounds fun. Feel free to tag me so I can see what you learn!

About formatting--I am considering each chapter in the fic "Thirty One Days" a unique chapter for the purposes of this meme, as they are written to be loosely connected one shots.

I am using both of my pseuds to better get a picture of my writing history, so if you end up looking up my yugiomo pseud...know that there WILL be omorashi and consider this your warning. If you do not know what this is, and are over 18, use urban dictionary or something.

Astonishingly, all of the first lines of all of the fics are tumblr safe. Horray. Most of the fics aren't. If you look up any fics, PLEASE pay attention to the ratings on AO3, and any content warnings.

Patterns: Every. Single. One. Of my new (2019 holiday season forward) fics starts with the name of a person and a paragraph. This paragraph immediately sets up the person's thoughts. Previously, I had begun fics with much more action, often with dialog, or specific thoughts or actions. "Keijo!!!!!" was sitting in my drafts for years before it was finished and posted, so it makes sense that it followed my old format, despite falling on the newer side of the break I took writing. (It is the only thing I published besides the 2018 YGOME before the 2019 YGOME started me writing again.) The long break coincides, to my memory with the tumblr purge and me entering a long-term relationship with my current partner. I should maybe think about adding more action into my writing again.

15. "War of Love: The Game" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Draw!” Atem yelled as he pulled the card out of the deck and looked at it.

14. "Dignity Lost! The Ship Ride to Duelist Kingdom" (yugiomo pseud, and yes apparently I'm mainblogging that now). --- Anzu grit her teeth as she listened to the gentle sound of water on the hull of the giant boat, every wave torturous to her ears. Finally she stood from her position crouching next to Honda. “I’m at my breaking point,” she complained, her voice a slight whine.

13. "Paladins: Champions of the Realm" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Enemy double kill... enemy triple kill!” the automated voice announced. "Enemy killing spree.”

12. "Failure" (yugiomo pseud) --- Stupid Kaiba and his stupid rules! Jounouchi thought, desperately working at the restraints that held him him in place. Who even made desks like this anyway? It almost seemed like the chain was built in, like it was meant to be on the desk. But that couldn’t be right. Kaiba had said he’d had this desk as a kid.

11. "More Sex Play" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Want to play something other than Duel Monsters this afternoon?” Atem suggested to Kaiba as he dug through the golden box for his deck. “I live in a game shop, surely there is something else you’d like to try to beat me at.”

10. "Alone" --- All Kaiba wanted was to shrink away from the music, the noise and the crowd. He didn’t want to play this part anymore, but he had to, for Mokuba’s sake. Mokuba was all that was left.

9. "Trying (On) My Patience" -- “Look, all I’m saying is that you need to find something other than a discarded school uniform to throw over your shoulders. And maybe some better jewelry.”

8. "Keijo!!!!!" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Don’t you think we should check it out?” Atem insisted, his intense gaze meeting Kaiba’s across the desk. “It’s the latest competitive fad in Japan. According to Yugi, men are going crazy for it.”

7. "Liquid Gold" --- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XaS93WMRQQ

Atem sat at the computer, simply searching the internet while he waited for Seto to finish up with his work. While he almost exclusively had been using this specific computer in Seto’s office space since coming back from the afterlife, occasionally Seto would use it to set the ambiance while Atem was gone. What Seto didn’t know is that Atem had figured out how to search the browsing history, and that he had recently seen that there were nearly 20 plays of the same youtube video.

6. "All I Want For Christmas..." --- Yugi yawned as he watched out the window of the Kaiba jet . It was the private one, not the blue eyes white jet; Yugi had always been secretly nervous about that plane’s capability of flying, and regardless, there wouldn't have been enough room for Mokuba, Yugi, and Seto to fly in the dragon-shaped jet together. He’d been woken by the announcement of the plane’s descent, as dawn broke over the unique arrangement of city and harbor that forms Sydney, Australia.

5. "Help Me Doctor (I Have Sinned)" --- Marco always had an eye out for sails as he went about his daily tasks on Whitebeard’s peaceful home island. He’d been expecting Edward Weevil to make his way there eventually, and in the meantime needed to protect the small island from bands of low-class marauders. So, when he was walking down the beach and he recognized the telltale black flag, he immediately pulled out his spyglass. The jolly roger showed a skull surrounded by a fluffy pink scarf, with giant red lips and a brown and pink tricorne on its head, and Marco’s heart rate immediately increased.

4. "Shimmering Blush" --- Tony Tony Chopper woke up bright and early, excited to go back to see his friends. The last two years in Birdie Kingdom without seeing any of the other Straw Hats had been long, even with the new friends he’d made here. He knew he was stronger, and would do his best to support everyone now that he would finally get to see them again.

3. "House On A Hill" --- Marco wasn’t about to listen to Katakuri (of all people) lecturing him on selflessness. They both had always been the kind of people that would prioritize their families over themselves. That was why they had ended and Marco was cursing Katakuri for not leaving the island after yet another ill-advised tryst.

2. "Relief" (yugiomo pseud--you thought this died in 2017, didn't you?) --- Ryou had, for the most part, reached an understanding with the Spirit of the Ring. Unlike Yugi, Ryou was well-aware of the other person that had come attached to the Millenium Ring, the Item his father had gifted him from one of his archeological digs. Most people probably would have assumed they were cursed the first time they saw the disembodied Spirit following themselves around, and thrown the Ring away as far as they could. Ryou, in contrast, turned around, faced the Spirit, and said hello.

1. "Shared Nightmares" --- Robin has had nightmares about the Buster Call that destroyed Ohara ever since she escaped her fate. Sometimes it’s just the kids back home that picked on her and called her a devil child, all in the rescue boat and dying because she might have made it on board, sometimes it’s the burning of the Tree of Life, sometimes it’s Saul’s laughing face as Akoiji froze him solid.

0. "Seek and Ye Shall Find" (I miscounted and started a fic late and I am not spending time readjusting this nonsense) --- Atem was so happy he’d finally found a way to at least view what was happening back in Domino. Rather than getting surprised by the Gods’ future requests at world-saving, he could keep an eye on things from the afterlife. It’s not like he could transport himself to Domino without the Gods’ help, so it was more a way to keep an eye on things in the meantime. The Kaiba Dome seemed the best place for the mirror into the realm of the living; after all, Seto Kaiba now seemed the center of all the trouble.

youtube

#long post #my writing #writing meme #mobile doesnt have see more #Youtube

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avegetariancannibal · 6 years ago

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“Nor’easter”

[I've had this in my drafts since January 2018 and I just read over it and don't know why I didn't post it. So... here’s some Hannigram snowed-in trope from season 2!]

Will opened the door to let the dogs out and found, to his surprise, Hannibal standing on his porch, covered in snow. The dogs all gave him a friendly sniff before bounding over to the trees.

"I didn't hear you drive up," Will said. He peered out into the darkness. "I... don't see your car."

"Stuck in the snow about half a mile from here," Hannibal said, his voice shaking slightly from the cold. "I tried to call but the storm seems to be playing havoc with my reception."

Will's first instinct was to tell him to take a hike, but he saw a way to use the situation to his advantage. As he'd told Jack, he was a good fisherman. The fish was here, right now, on his doorstep.

"Come on in," Will said, opening the door wider.

As Hannibal hurried in, the dogs followed soon after, shaking snow off their bodies and all over their new guest just as he was taking off his coat.

"Ah---"

Will barely suppressed a laugh as he headed towards the bathroom. "I'll get you some towels."

"Perhaps I could borrow something dry to wear," Hannibal called after him. "I don't think I'll get a ride out of here tonight in this storm."

******

Will dug through the linen closet for a pair of towels, and then through a box of old clothes he'd been meaning to take to the men's shelter in town. Everything smelled a bit stale, but it was all clean. He came up with his college sweatpants and a bright purple cardigan he'd owned for years but never worn because... well, bright purple.

He wondered if he should call Jack and tell him... Tell him what? That he was having a sleepover with Hannibal Lecter? It wasn't as if he didn't trust himself to handle the situation without Jack Crawford's input. Right? He shook his head at himself and went back into the living room.

Hannibal had already stripped out of his wet clothes and looked to be about to move on to his underwear.

"Not shy, I see," Will said, holding out the clothes and towels.

"I didn't think I had reason to be," Hannibal said.

Will snorted. "Not modest, either."

Hannibal blinked at him. "I only meant that I didn't think my state of undress would matter to you one way or the other." Suddenly, his expression turned decidedly sly. "But I can dress elsewhere, if it does matter."

Will's cheeks burned, and he hoped the dimness of the room hid them. "Just... hurry up. I was about to go to sleep when you showed up at my door."

Hannibal glanced around. "Where...?"

"You can have the guest room upstairs," Will said. "I don't have an extra space heater, but you can take a couple of dogs with you. Buster's the warmest one, he's good under the covers, but he can be a bit gassy."

Hannibal's gaze fell upon the dogs, who had shuffled into their beds near the fireplace but who were all keeping a watchful eye on their guest. Buster, having heard his name, wagged his tail.

"Perhaps I'll manage on my own..."

Will rolled his eyes. "Just take a dog or two, Hannibal. You'll freeze half to death."

He clicked his tongue at the dogs and gestured for them to follow Hannibal up the stairs. At first only Buster hopped to his command, but Max grudgingly heaved himself out of bed and went.

Hannibal lingered at the bottom step, arms laden with the borrowed clothes, and appeared to want to say something.

"I'd offer you something to eat," Will said, "but I'm pretty sure all I've got is canned soup."

"Thank you," Hannibal said, tossing a weak smile over his shoulder. "I think I have everything I need."

**********

Will woke to the sound of the floorboards creaking near him. He knew instinctively that Hannibal could have moved in complete silence, so there had to be a reason for making noise.

"What is it?" he sighed.

"Your dogs took their leave of me," Hannibal whispered, the shivering audible in his voice. "I imagine they returned to their own beds as soon as I fell asleep."

Will reached over in the dark and flicked on the lamp. Hannibal stood at his bedside, hair mussed, hugging himself in the cold, and looking better than anyone had a right to in that terrible cardigan. Only one thing was missing.

"I could have sworn I gave you some sweatpants," Will said.

"They were rather snug," Hannibal said.

Will flashed on an image of himself as a 20-year-old, still built like a fawn. "Ah, yeah, I guess I was a scrawny thing when I bought them."

Hannibal reached up to undo the buttons on his borrowed cardigan.

Will sat up. "Whoa. Whoa, what are you doing?"

"Giving this back to you," Hannibal said. "I'm sure my own clothes are dry enough by now, so I can make my way back to my car. Perhaps I'll be able to drive out..."

Will glanced toward the window. The snow was still falling in frenzied swirls as the wind howled like an angry, living thing. The drifts had to be twice as deep as they were when Hannibal showed up.

"You're being ridiculous," Will told him. He held up one corner of his blanket. "Just... just get in and keep to your side, would you?"

"If you're certain---"

"Before I change my mind, you'd better."

He turned off the lamp as Hannibal slid into bed behind him. Even though there was a clear foot between them, Will could feel the weight of him on the mattress and smell the good smell of him. The mustiness of the cardigan couldn't cover it up, the mingled scent of whatever cologne he used and the ozone of the storm that still seemed to linger on him.

"Goodnight, Will," Hannibal said, already sounding drowsy.

"Yeah, ‘night," Will said, though he was sure he'd never fall back asleep now.

*******

He fell so deeply asleep that waking up just felt like moving on to another dream. In this dream, he was wrapped around Hannibal as tightly as a howler monkey clinging to a life-saving branch. His head rested on Hannibal's shoulder and his hand had snaked itself under the ugly cardigan to the warm expanse of belly beneath. Their legs were a tangled mess.

Around the same time he realized it wasn't a dream, he also realized he was jabbing Hannibal's hip with a particularly insistent morning erection. He backed away from Hannibal as quickly as he could.

"Guess I'm not used to sharing the bed with anyone," he mumbled, by way of explaining himself.

"Mm hm." Hannibal lay on his back, fingers laced over his ribs, eyes open and staring up at the ceiling. He didn't look at Will.

Will frowned at him. "Were you awake all night?"

"I thought it the best way to keep to my side," he said. "As you instructed me."

Will's face burned with shame. "I'm sorry---"

"You chose a perfect torture for me," Hannibal went on, still focused on the ceiling. "The smell of you so close, and your warmth drawing nearer and nearer to me as I lay perfectly still---and then to be subjected to the touch of your body."

Now Will was just confused. "Look, I'm sorry I rubbed against you in my sleep. I didn't mean to.”

"Don't continue the farce, Will."

Hannibal sprang up from the bed and went about putting his pants and socks back on.

"Are you leaving? Hannibal, your car is half a mile away and it's still snowing." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait---why is your car half a mile away?"

"I told you.” The hideous cardigan came off and Hannibal's own shirt and coat went back on. “I was driving and it became stuck in the snow."

"I mean why were you driving half a mile from my house," Will said.

Hannibal sniffed. "Feigned ignorance is unbecoming on you."

With that, he hurried out the front door so quickly, he left his shoes and coat behind. Will, still in nothing more than his boxers and undershirt, vaulted outside after him. He stumbled off the porch and fell face-first into soft, deep snow. The sudden cold contact knocked the breath out of him for a moment.

By the time he'd gotten his wits about him again, Hannibal had plowed ahead a good thirty or so feet.

"God dammit, Hannibal! Get back inside before we both freeze to death!"

He moved to climb out of the pit he'd made for himself, but only sank further in. The surrounding snow, disturbed by his efforts, toppled in after him. He was buried up to his shoulders as he sprawled half on his knees and elbows.

Buster was the first one to check on him, barking happily at first as if they were playing a fun game, then with increasing anxiety. Winston and Zoe and the others soon joined him, whimpering or howling their distress. One of the bigger dogs stomped on his back, no doubt in an attempt to save him, but only managed to push him further down, like a pat of butter being pressed into a heap of mashed potatoes. He thought of how the news story of his death would play. Something like "local man once thought to be a cannibalistic murderer was accidentally buried alive by his pack of dogs in what police are calling a hoarding situation gone bad" seemed about right.

He felt the load of dogs lighten and then there was a strong hand on the back of his neck. He was yanked up onto his knees by the collar of his undershirt.

"I'll go back inside," Hannibal said, his tone one of grand concession, "if only to keep you from doing something foolish."

*******

Hannibal made them both mugs of hot cocoa laced with whiskey. Will, wearing a new set of underpants and shirt, sat in the semidark, warming his lips against the hot ceramic of the mug. Hannibal was just as quiet, and seemed not to want to look directly at him.

Will thought back to the last time someone had shown up unannounced on his doorstep in the middle of the night. If he hadn't been plagued by hallucinations---and Alana so plagued by ideals of ethics---he would've gotten laid that night.

"You were on your way to visit me," Will said. "When you got stuck in the snow."

"Nothing as friendly as that," Hannibal said, still not looking at him. "I was only going to drive past to catch a glimpse of you."

"Wow."

"I loathe pity."

Will knew he should shut up He knew it. He was going to fuck up whatever lame fishing expedition he had planned with Jack Crawford because if he didn't shut up, he was going to figure out how he felt about Hannibal and that was going to make his life so much worse.

"I'm not pitying you," Will said, not shutting up. "I'm... genuinely surprised. It's not feigned ignorance, if you were thinking of accusing me of that again."

"So you're merely dense," Hannibal said.

"About this, yeah, I guess," Will laughed. He thought about putting down his mug and sliding into Hannibal's lap, but shook it off. "I don't like the idea of making a move on Alana's boyfriend---and don't protest that you're not. You know what I mean."

Hannibal winced into a smile. Only now did he glance up at Will. "So what would you have me do?"

"Get some sleep," Will said. "Finish your cocoa first or throw it out so the dogs don't get into it."

He downed the rest of his drink in one slightly too-hot gulp, then crawled into bed. He listened to Hannibal fussing about in the kitchen for a bit, the sound oddly comforting. There's a cannibal in your house, he told himself, and you're supposed to be entrapping him not having sleepovers with him. He tried to feel worked up about that, he really did. Maybe the righteous anger would come roaring back at some point, but it felt so far away. Certainly farther away than the warm, good-smelling body now sliding into bed behind him.

"Must I keep to my side this time?" Hannibal asked.

"I suppose not," Will said. "After driving all this way and trudging half a mile through the snow, a few inches doesn't seem like much."

He didn't get a response to that, so Will scooted backwards until his back touched Hannibal's chest. Eventually, he felt Hannibal shift slightly so that they fit smoothly together, like fire logs in a pile settling against one another. He watched the snow battering against the window, so thick that he couldn't see the sky beyond, and fell asleep without one drop of the cold touching him.

-end-

#my fic #hannigram

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em-dashes · 5 years ago

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11.16.2019

Hello! Interesting thing, kind of unrelated, but I had a dream someone not only plagiarized but also published my book (in 2018, no less) DESPITE the fact even I myself hadn’t finished writing it. Dream-me was contemplating reading the published book to find out how this writing thief decided to go about all my plot holes, and then the dream ended :^/

On to the update! Hello again. Here’s what I’ve done since the last update:

> Cleaned up my “doots” file so everything’s in chronological order (”doots” is my “oh I thought of a cool line to write but I haven’t gotten to that part yet” file. It’s 19 pages long right now)

> Wrote things (exact amount: unclear)

YEAH yeah I know the point of Nano is to keep track of how much you write, but I’m working in the same doc that I was already writing in before Nano started, and I’m also working on other things in two other documents, and I didn’t want to do the math every day, so I’m just going to add up the approximate word count at the end of November. (Incidentally, if you’re my buddy on the Nano website and haven’t seen my word count go up since like, day 2, this is why. Oops.)

Here are some excerpts from APHELION! Also i’m going to start using fancy paragraph dividers now because @ditzysworld ‘s updates are pretty as Heck and I want in on the aesthetics, dammit.

Chapter 8: Cay

He woke up knowing he’d had a bad dream, but remembered none of it except the feeling of dread. He took a quavering breath and sat up, letting the cool air wash away the buzzing heat on his skin.

“I’m okay,” he whispered to himself, and closed his eyes, running his hands over his forearms. His heart was beating too fast. “I’m okay.”

“Bad dream?”

He managed not to wince. He hadn’t noticed Jack sitting in the pilot seat, nursing a hot drink and watching him with furrowed brows. Cay took a moment, made sure his voice wouldn’t waver, and said, “I’m fine.”

Jack didn’t press, but he got up and said, “I’ll get you some water.”

He left the room. Cay tugged his sleeves over his hands and wiped his eyes before Jack returned with a cup in hand. Cay wrapped his fingers around the cup and clung to its heat, reminding himself that he was here, in the cockpit they called a bedroom, in the shuttle they called home, and he was far, far away from Hazeldunst Valley. He was here, and he was safe.

Jack sat beside him on the mattress, and Cay shifted so they were shoulder to shoulder. In the beginning, when Cay woke much more violently from his dreams, Jack would hold him, quietly comforting him until he stopped crying, until he stopped shaking. In the beginning, Jack would also ask what Cay dreamed about, tried to get him to talk about it, but now, all he said was, “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” said Cay. He took a small sip of hot water and rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m okay.”

Chapter 9: Shelby

(context: Shelby and her partner Jes are war zone gleaners, but in spaaace)

“Holy shit.”

Bee tilted her head toward Jesca’s voice, though of course, Jes was too far to be seen. Jes was rummaging somewhere in the front half of the ship, while Bee dug through what was once the cargo bay.

“What?” she asked.

“The entire console’s intact,” came Jes’s tinny, crackly voice through the comm. She laughed, the sound broken up by the shoddy connection. Somehow Bee found that endearing. “Oh man, you better come up here and help me.”

“On it.”

Bee grabbed the nearest railing and, with a slight push, sailed up the corridor. That was the best part about space--no gravity, no walking. Though of course, no gravity was also the worst part, especially when it came to using the washroom. Their ship was too small to install a gravity core, and Bee had been bugging Jes about getting a bigger ship, but they didn’t have enough money. Yet.

Bee caught a door frame and pulled herself through it, finally floating into the cockpit. Jes had her legs hooked around the pilot’s chair so she wouldn’t drift off while prying apart the panels of the console.

“Knock knock,” said Bee as she settled in beside Jes. She looked startling in the harsh light of space--her already deep-set eyes were made deeper, her cheekbones looked razor-sharp, and her dark brown eyes shone gold.

“Hey,” said Jes without looking away from her work. “Help me with the other side of the console.”

“Yes, sir.” Bee grabbed the power drill from her belt and got to work. She couldn’t hear the whirring of the drill, but she could feel the rumble up her arm, and the low hum of it vibrating in her hand. She got one rivet loose and let it float off while she moved on to the next.

“What’s it like down there?” Jes asked.

“Gravity core’s wrecked,” said Bee. “Most of the cargo is blown out, but I think”--the rivet caught in the panel, and Bee impatiently pried it loose with her hand-- “I saw the medical bay as I was coming up, and it looks untouched.” Untouched, except there’s a body floating in it, she thought but didn’t say. It would be a fun surprise for Jes.

Aaaaaaand that’s all the excerpts I’m sharing for now! I’m also spontaneously developing a podcast script, and I wrote a quick draft of the first episode (severely underwritten and very shallow, but SHH). I don’t know how to explain the premise except

> the main character is me (as in, not just played by me, but like, actually me)

> “If the zombie apocalypse happened while I was at school, what would I do?” (the answer is: bad decisions)

Et c’est tout pour le moment mes amis!

-Emily

#em dashes #writerblr #writers on tumblr #nanowrimo #writing update #nano 2019 #excerpts #aphelion #untitled podcast *eyes emoji*#that's a lie i have a title for it already i'm just saving that for when i actually have enough to share #i also have an update for Like The Sun! coming up uhhhh soon maybe

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warlordess · 6 years ago

Text

An Alternate Journey (Pokeshipping; part four)

Authors - @warlordess and @miyatoriaka

Notes - So here it is, the major motion-fanfic of the century! For those who don’t know, famed Pokeshipping artist Miyatoriaka drew a twelve or thirteen page comic for Pokeshipping Week 2018 based on the “role reversal” theme. After seeing a few pages, and then obsessively rereading all the pages over and over, I felt inspired to write for the first time in months, to really sit down and dedicate hours to a specific project. When I mentioned casually that I was interested in writing a fanfic version of her comic, she was immediately supportive! Since then, we’ve discussed the project over a few conversations and figured a lot of little details and kinks out and I was able to draft a few chapters while working which I finally had time to start typing up…

You can find the prologue here.

You can find chapter one here.

You can find chapter two here.

OoO

Title - “An Alternate Journey”

Summary - Eleven year old novice trainer Misty starts her Pokemon adventure, best friends Gary and Ash by her side. But will she withstand every test her travels throw at her and become the greatest master trainer of all time? Fic co-crafted with famous fan-artist, Miyatoriaka!

Ages - Misty and Leaf are eleven years old, Ash and Gary are thirteen, and the adults are adult-aged so who cares about ‘em? Lol.

Chapter Three - Brock

OoOoO

“Misty, get back here!” Ash huffed in exasperation, gasping for air to ease his burning lungs as he and Gary continued to chase after their mutual friend. “Why would she follow Leaf like that? This is too dangerous! I mean,” he paused to catch his breath again, offering the other boy a furtive glance before refocusing on the semi-dark path before them, “you know who that guy was with, right?”

“Yeah, trust me, I noticed the logo same as you,” Gary replied, gritting his teeth, face darkening in thinly veiled fury. “Team Rocket… But Misty doesn’t know anything about them since she only just left home…” Then he raised his voice loud enough for the redhead to hear despite the distance between them. “I just wish she’d wait for us to catch up!” he finished, lengthening certain syllables to better get across his point.

“Can’t!” the aforementioned female shouted, barely bothering to turn her head as she and her loyal Eevee speedily skipped and leapt over multiple fallen brambles, thick tree roots, and otherwise uneven footing. “If Leaf thinks she can do something here then I can too! Ah! I hear something up ahead!”

[read more]

The night had almost completely taken over and Misty had to strain her eyes momentarily while they adjusted to viewing her surroundings exclusively via moonlight. She crashed through a thorny patch of foliage and entered into a clearing, where she found the man in black and what seemed to be a cohort of his, who was now in possession of the entombed Pokemon fossil. Both of them were actively battling against Leaf while the three security guards from the museum were on the ground behind her, each nursing a fainted Pokemon of their own.

“Leaf!” Misty yelled, leaping into action with Eevee in tow, however she was blown back by a gust of wind that seemed intent on driving both a physical and metaphorical wedge between the two girls.

It was Hypno against Hypno and Misty, blinded by curiosity, couldn’t ignore the sudden feeling of inadequacy she felt as she watched her rival up in arms and doing serious battle with someone else, let alone a criminal.

A Hypno? Since when did she have one of those?

Ash and Gary appeared behind the redhead after clearing the obstacle course themselves but she was too enthralled by the amazing show of power before her to notice them.

“Use psychic and, when they’re down, finish this up with headbutt!” Leaf commanded, throwing out an arm to point out their target before having the gall to glance at Misty over her shoulder as if just noticing her presence. “Well, if it isn’t my precious little late bloomer. Actually you’re just in time for once. You’ll get to see my Ditty crush these two losers,” she concluded proudly with an almost affectionate wink.

“Ditty…?”

“Like we’ll let you ruin our weeks of planning with one little Pokemon! Hypno, barrier!” the same grunt Misty had seen earlier in town growled.

It was a quick draw. Leaf’s Ditty (odd sounding nickname but sure) released a blast of unnatural energy so powerful that even the surrounding atmosphere was thick with it. This energy grew, condensed into a barely visible beam that shot in the opposing psychic type’s direction, shattering the mirror of light that had been erected in front of them. Then Ditty dug their stubby claws into the ground and propelled toward their somewhat dazed and injured opponent, smashing into them and knocking them backwards into a nearby tree.

Hypno fell limply to the forest floor, clearly unconscious, the man in black clicking his tongue in frustration before returning the Pokemon to their Pokeball.

“You assured the boss that this would work!” his female partner wailed angrily, shoving him in the shoulder to soothe her own ire. “Like you said, weeks of planning, right? And then we’d definitely get away with a priceless fossil that the boss would undoubtedly promote us for!”

“Look, I promised we’d escape the museum security and the cops if we followed through with my plan! I never said nothin’ ‘bout some snot-nosed trainer and her friends!”

“Well, either way, I did my part sneaking up on the guards’ Pokemon and using mine to knock ‘em out! I’m not gettin’ pinched again this soon after the last time!” And thus, she haphazardly threw the artifact she’d been holding into his arms. “Here! You take it and figure out our backup plan!”

“We don’t have one to figure out! And I’m not risking prison just yet either!”

Scowling, he faced the group of children who’d spectacularly fowled up his last month of impressive scheming, taking in the sight of a smirking Leaf to a courageous Misty, to a stone-faced Ash and downright furious-looking Gary.

Finally deciding that the odds were stacked too high against him, the dastardly villain tossed the fossil into the bushes nearby, grabbed his partner’s hand, turned and dragged her away deeper into the woods while she screeched indignantly in protest.

“Ah! Get back here!” Misty shouted too, lunging forward as if to initiate another chase, but she was stopped just as swiftly by Ash snatching a hold of her hand and shaking his head at her. “Ash, what’re you…?”

Perhaps thankfully, she was distracted from finishing her accusatory inquiry by the sight of Hypno glowing white. It seemed blinding in the darkness, their form shifting and morphing, molding and shrinking. The light faded into an odd violet blob with a humorously minorly animated expression on its face.

“Wait, that wasn’t a…? What is that?” Misty asked, shaking Ash off of her and pulling her Pokedex from her pocket, flipping it open and pressing the analysis button.

“Ditto, the transforming Pokemon. Due to its unique organic makeup, it can rearrange its cell structure to transform itself into any other shape upon sight. It has a fault memory, however, and relying on it can cause it to inaccurately mimic its target. This Pokemon is one of a few species that has no gender.”

“Wow…” she exclaimed in awe, unable to conceal her envy. A Pokemon that could turn into anything, huh…?

“Thanks, Ditty, you were perfect as always,” Leaf told her Pokemon affectionately, bravely leaning down and further expressing her adoration with a kiss to the side of Ditto’s face before recalling it to its Pokeball. Then she turned and winked at her audience, fossil now tucked neatly under her arm, “Well, Misty dear, boys, I hope you enjoyed our show. Though I’m afraid if you’re looking for an encore worthy of me it might take a little while.

“Feel free to watch me as I walk away, okay?” Another wink and a suggestive puckering of her lips and she traipsed by, leaving the rest of them to follow after her.

By the time they’d made it back to Pewter’s Museum of Science and Natural History, Sergeant Jenny had arrived and was alternating between barking orders at her subordinates and double-checking details from the witness statements previously relayed to her, including the three security guards who’d retreated after their Pokemon had been knocked out in order to explain the situation to their superiors and the police. At the sight of Leaf leading the group of other trainers, however, ancient and priceless artifact in her grasp, everyone and everything came to a halt.

“Oh, oh my, I can’t believe it!” Penelope was the first to regain her nerve, hand over her mouth and looking downright tearful at the truly victorious outcome. “You found our project! You got it back f - from them? Oh, thank you!”

Leaf was almost instantaneously surrounded by officer and employee alike, all showering her with praise and applause, shaking her hand and calling her a hero, telling her that she would of course have unlimited free access to the Pewter museum, lifetime guarantee. And Leaf was lapping it up while Misty and her friends stood in the background.

“Yeah, I still don’t like her much…” Ash muttered, but his begrudging tone belied the newfound respect he couldn’t contain.

“She sure does make a lasting impression though,” Gary replied softly, his tone much more accepting of how impressed he was, and he purposefully avoided eye contact with his old friend, who was suddenly sporting a half-knowing, half-disbelieving expression.

Finally deciding that she’d seen enough, Misty beckoned to Eevee and her friends, turning and heading back to the PokeCenter.

While a large part of her couldn’t help but envy Leaf for becoming so unattainably strong and knowledgeable, another much smaller part of her couldn’t help her pride.

At least one of them had made large strides towards their dream…

And, while nobody else could see it, the redhead smirked to herself, the next thought running through her head both courageous and frank.

She would catch up to her old friend soon enough…

OoO

Misty spent the next two days training her Pokemon, challenging or being challenged by any local or passing trainer, especially those who’d also decided to go watch Brock battle at the gym. She still wasn’t sure of the strategy she should use to face the gym leader but she was at least able to gauge the Pokemon he had in possession and what moves they knew, how strong they were.

“My Metapod evolved into a Butterfree, so I could use sleep powder to put them out… But does putting a Pokemon to sleep actually win the round?” she mused aloud the next day after lunch. Their group was currently back at the gym for another recon mission, sitting halfway up the bleachers and watching Brock beat another young trainer.

“I think regulations say the Pokemon has to be unconscious for one full minute or else must withstand three impacts from enemy Pokemon techniques before being declared unable to battle,” Ash told her, brow creased as he did his best to remember the rules.

“Really? They want me to hit an unconscious Pokemon?” Misty yelped.

“Well, Pokemon are generally able to handle a lot, otherwise being a trainer and the existence of the league and all that wouldn’t be possible. But also, unnaturally induced methods of status effects - sleep, poison, freezing - are usually minor and only have very short-term effects unless there’s a drastic strength difference between the one inflicting and the one inflicted, which means the latter wouldn’t stand much chance against the former anyway.” Noticing this more in-depth explanation didn’t ease the redhead’s discomfort, Gary added, “But yeah, most people just wait the minute out and have the other side forcibly forfeit the round.”

“Mm hmm… I guess that makes sense.”

“So what are ya thinkin’? Is today the day? Honestly, I’m kinda impressed you’ve been able to keep yourself from running straight up to Brock and challenging him these past couple days. I dunno if I coulda withstood that kinda wait if I was in your shoes,” Ash told her with a snarky grin.

“Well, I guess that just means I have more patience than you!” Misty joked back, shuffling to her feet and sighing to calm her nerves. “But I guess I’m not gonna get much stronger or smarter than I am now, am I? So…” the redhead replied with an affirmative nod, maybe more to encourage herself as she rose to her feet rather than to further impress her decision on her friends.

Then, before anyone could continue or conclude the conversation, she was bounding over the bleachers in front of her, taking care not to knock into any of the other spectators in her excitement as she hopped from row to row in pursuit of the gym floor.

“Brock!” she shouted in between shallow grunts as she weaved and leaped her way closer, Eevee in tow. Her fists formed, shoulders tight, eyes ablaze, before pointing out the shirtless gym leader who was practically gaping at her from his earthy arena below. “I’ve come to beat you and get my first gym badge!”

“Uh…” the teenage gym trainer blinked, flustered by her manic enthusiasm.

“Well, that’s not embarrassing for anyone,” Gary commented with a hollow laugh, but Ash already had his mortified and flushed face in his hands, shaking his head halfheartedly in exasperation.

Misty vaulted over the wall dividing the seating sections and the arena floor, gasping for breath all the while. Eevee joined her moments after, looking mighty ferocious for such a small creature.

“Ah, so you’re next, huh? And what’s your name if I might ask?” the suddenly quite imposing teenager asked, teeth sparkling as he smiled at her and skin glistening with sweat after his previous workout.

“My name is Misty and this is Eevee, and we’re gonna take on the whole Pokemon League together because it’s our dream to be the best trainer in the world! You’re our first step so you better be ready to lose!”

“That’s some good energy I feel comin’ from you two! I like it when my challengers are filled with the kind of passion you have for your dream. It makes for a good match,” the teenage boy replied with what appeared to be a charming smile.

Ash, having barely recovered from his bout of secondhand embarrassment after Misty’s most recent spectacle, felt an agitated tingling flare up in the back of his mind, his eyes narrowing subconsciously at the display before him.

There was no way Brock was… was there?

“Now if we’re talking about dreams, I have one of those myself. You see, though my family maintains the Pewter City Gym, I don’t wanna stay here running it forever. No, in fact, what I really want more than anything is…” There was a drum-roll playing inside everyone’s heads as they braced themselves for his answer. After all, who’d heard of a gym leader who didn’t really want to be a gym leader before?

“What I really want is a girlfriend!”

Misty and Gary immediately facefaulted at such a proud (and wildly random) declaration but Ash’s reaction was the exact opposite.

“What are you doing?” Gary muttered in objection, looking up as the raven-haired trainer leaped to his feet with the appearance of a man whose brain had just imploded.

And internally even it felt that way to him, his nerves snapping and muscles going rigid. He had thought for sure that, despite whatever slight paranoid concern that had crossed his mind at first, he was just reading entirely wrong into the situation, but now he couldn’t help thinking it to be true…

“Well,” the lean and (still) shirtless gym trainer went on contemplatively, “I want a girlfriend, but also I wanna go on a sabbatical and learn the ins and outs of Pokemon breeding. I guess that means I have two dreams, and twice as much to accomplish once I leave this place to my family…

“So let’s start this battle, okay, Misty? And we can see if your passion for your dream is strong enough to take me down!”

“This is a Pokemon battle between gym leader Brock and challenger Misty for the Boulder Badge! The official rules of this gym state that the challenger may use any and all Pokemon on hand in order to defeat all Pokemon in Brock’s possession. There is no time limit!” Brock’s assistant explained from the sidelines, holding up both arms as he did so, then drawing them both down as if they were slicing through the air. “You may start!”

“I call Geodude!”

“Come on out, Butterfree!”

The two Pokemon appeared in a symmetrical flash of red light from across the field from each other, the bug-type floating up on their sparkling wings while the rock-type levitated in place, flexing its gravelly biceps.

“Ah, rookie mistake! Bugs have a distinctive weakness against rock-types!” Brock warned her tauntingly. “Geodude, tackle!”

“Dodge it, Butterfree! And counter with your gust!”

The rock-type Pokemon propelled itself up at its foe, who was light enough to twist himself sideways in mid-air, escaping a direct hit. Geodude was still able to clip the bug-type in one of his wings however, causing a momentary lack of control. Butterfree struggled to stay up in the sky, fluttering backwards to what seemed to be a safe distance before starting to flap his wings, the wind picking up and swirling around in response. With one final brutal thrust, Butterfree was able to push the wind tunnel at his opponent, who automatically crossed its muscular arms in front of its combined face and torso, blocking the impact from doing any significant damage.

“Butterfree, let’s try your supersonic!”

“Rollout, Geodude!”

The felled bug-type shook off his recent failure and unleashed a high-pitched yet somehow hollow wail that Misty could barely make out. Geodude, however, was already on the move, tucking itself into a mostly perfect sphere and spinning in place before shooting itself at his opponent.

The supersonic appeared to miss its mark due to the increase in the rock-type’s speed and, what’s more, Geodude continued to swing his entire mass back and forth across the battlefield, picking up momentum and coming closer to direct impact with the bug-type with every attempt.

Butterfree dodged to and fro even without Misty’s directive but he was losing ground - er, air - as Geodude continued to pick up speed, climbing drastically higher towards the ceiling until finally…

“Freeee!” the bug-type screeched out loud, falling haphazardly toward the ground after being slammed into by his opponent.

“Ah, oh no, Butterfree, quick! Use your gust to keep yourself from hitting the ground!” Misty yelped, internally admonishing herself for not thinking up a better strategy more quickly.

This battle was already reminding her of her recent discouraging loss against Leaf…

Nevertheless it worked, and the adamant wind bursting back at him helped him glide high into the sky despite his latest injuries. Unfortunately, he wasn’t out of the woods quite yet because first contact did nothing but ignite further Geodude’s thirst for victory.

“Keep it going!” Brock shouted triumphantly, throwing forward a fist to urge his Pokemon onward.

“String shot, Butterfree!”

White, sticky thread shot out from between the small fangs in Butterfree’s mouth, the bug-type going so far as to spray it in all directions.

It didn’t take long for Geodude to get caught up in the webbing, though it didn’t bring him to a complete stop.

“Gust again, Butterfree!”

“Geodude, defense curl!”

The dusty wind cycle hand next to no effect on the rock-type Pokemon, something Misty was getting both used to and frustrated by. Not to mention that Geodude adding to his already stellar defense was going to make him downright infallible. And there was still that ongoing rollout technique too…

There really was nothing else for it. She would have to use her special not-so-secret strategy after all.

“Butterfree, use your sleep powder!” Misty commanded, and her Pokemon followed suit quite dutifully.

“Nice try but you can’t stop Geodude that easily, especially not now!”

And it appeared that Brock’s latest taunt was true, for even when slowed down by Butterfree’s string shot, the previous momentum and combination of reckless power and speed it’d gained from rollout were enough to evade any targeted area of status ailing dust as it floated towards the ground from Butterfree’s wings. The rock-type was out of reach way before the sleep powder drifted toward his original position on the field.

But watching her recent maneuver fail gave Misty another idea.

“Butterfree, one last time, use your gust!”

The bug-type screeched, holding himself high above the stream of sleep powder, flapping his paperlight wings rapidly, causing the aforementioned powder to dispense suddenly over a much wider range. It sparkled in the artificial light from the rafters as it landed all over the battlefield, including…

“Ah, Geodude!” Brock gaped before a mildly impressed grin spread across his face. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded affirmatively, his Pokemon faltering mid-roll on the ground, trying to blink away the onslaught of excessive exhaustion setting in.

Misty waited the mandatory sixty seconds, not having the heart to attack a defenseless, unconscious Pokemon (no matter what mineral composite their body was made out of), before the makeshift referee raised the hand that was closest to her side of the arena.

“Geodude is unable to battle! Misty is the winner of round one!”

“Not bad at all…” the Pewter City gym trainer lamented, returning his Pokemon and repocketing the Pokeball he’d used, at the same time removing another one and holding it up.

“This next one won’t be so simple for you to beat though! Truth is, I only have two Pokemon on hand that adequately produce a challenge as rock-types but this other one is my strongest and it’s usually all I need to teach new trainers a lesson or two…”

Misty knew what was coming before the next words had even left Brock’s mouth.

“Go, Onix!”

He launched his second Pokeball into the air where it snapped open of its own accord, scarlet light shooting out of it and forming a large scale semi-opaque mass that took up a significant portion of the gym leader’s side of the field. The Pokeball flew back to Brock’s hand, a ricochet effect after the release of the Pokemon held within.

“The challenger now has an opportunity to exchange their Pokemon before the new round starts. You have thirty seconds!” the referee shouted in clarification.

Misty paused momentarily where she stood, weighing her options, looking her airborne Pokemon over and assessing his damage. True, he’d been knocked around a little by Geodude’s rollout but he’d been quick enough to dodge most everything else and tough enough to outlast the hurts he had received.

“Butterfree, are you up for another battle?” the redhead chose to finally ask, the bug-type twisting around and bobbing up and down in response, which seemed to indicate a ‘yes’. “Alright then, let’s go!”

“You got this, Misty!” Ash cheered from the bleachers, and Misty offered him a thumbs up from where she stood, only now just realizing that he and Gary had moved down to the first row of seats for a closer view.

“Round two, start!”

“Butterfree, string shot and then combine your sleep powder and gust like last time!” she ordered of her Pokemon. Why fix what wasn’t broken after all?

“I told you I wouldn’t make this one so easy for you to win! Mud sport, Onix!”

The giant rock snake gave a mighty roar and thrashed around, disrupting his opponent before the second phase of attack could be commenced, kicking up much that lay throughout the entirety of the arena with his tail. He flung it around, submerging the sticky threading meant to slow him down and negating its effects.

“Rock throw!”

“You gotta dodge it, Butterfree!”

Onix smashed his tail into the ground, unearthing a few boulders, curling his tail halfway around them one at a time and launching them in the bug-type’s direction. Butterfree weaved left and right, barely missing multiple direct hits until, finally, he couldn’t maneuver fast enough.

He careened backwards flat against the wall behind him and fell to the ground, the damage too great for him to catch himself as he went.

Misty panicked internally, running around the marked edges of the gym’s battlefield boundary to get a closer look at her hurt Pokemon but was unable to get any closer, prepared for the round to be officially called in Onix’s favor.

And perhaps she’d counted her Exeggcute before they’d evolved because, despite all odds as well as Butterfree’s major weakness to rock-type damage, he began to cautiously and feebly flap his wings again, winnying his name as he slowly rose back into the air once more.

“Great job, you got this, okay?” Misty encouraged, Eevee apparently coaching her ally with similar words of comfort from beside her trainer. “Now try using your confusion!”

“Onix, rage!”

The rock-type roared again, his eyes appearing to glow somewhat from his suddenly unbridled fury just as a wave of psychic energy blasted against him, knocking him back a foot or two. Grime and dirt that had settled in the crevices between each of his nodes instantaneously unsettled and wafted into the air. Even more enraged after this latest attack, the earthy serpent let loose a torrent of wails and slams, beating and crumbling everything in his wake. Butterfree barely rose high enough to avoid this terrifyingly aggressive outbreak, though both he and his trainer were caught off-guard by what happened next.

“Wrap him up in your bind!”

Onix lifted himself up to his full height, encircling the bug-type with his whole body and coiling tightly around and around, crushing Butterfree from without.

There was a screech as Misty’s Pokemon vanished completely from view. Seconds later, Onix unwrapped himself and dropped the nearly fainted bug to the ground.

As Butterfree landed, he automatically unleashed a toxic cloud of dust and then went completely limp.

“Oh no, Butterfree…” Misty moaned in concern, removing the aforementioned Pokemon’s ball from her belt just as the referee began to make his announcement.

“Butterfree is unable to battle. Brock is the winner of round two! The challenger may have thirty seconds to choose their next Pokemon!”

“You did really well; thanks so much for everything,” Misty whispered to the Pokeball in her hand after recalling her Pokemon to it. “I promise I’ll get you some treatment after this.”

She then took a few seconds to weigh her options. Onix’s defensive stat was so high that most of her Pokemon were going to have trouble doing any damage. It was the very same problem she’d acknowledged since the beginning but it was even more evident now as she experienced the situation firsthand. She had originally hoped that the ingenuity of her sleep powder strategy would be enough to carry her team straight through to complete victory but she knew that chances of that were rather slim…

“Fifteen seconds, challenger!” the referee warned her.

“Eevee vee eev eevee!” her starter Pokemon yelped from her wide, nudging her in the ankle to get her attention.

“It’s nice that you wanna help but I don’t know how much you’ll be able to do… And I don’t want you… getting hurt too, like Butterfree did… or like what happened to you before when you fought Squirtle, you know?” Misty reminded the fox-like Pokemon with a sigh. She was quite surprised when Eevee not only stood her ground but ended up leaping into the fray without her trainer’s say-so.

“Wah, Eevee! But…” the novice trainer called out but her Pokemon twisted her head around, offered one last confident bark of her own name in her direction before marching on. “Well then… heh, I guess I choose Eevee!”

“Round three; start!”

“Tackle, Onix!”

“Eevee, use your growl!”

Despite his size, the rock-type Pokemon seemed rather put off by the smaller one’s throaty howl. He still pursued a direct hit with his physical techniques but Eevee bounded sideways, sliding in the dirt, and the tackle missed.

“Sand attack!”

It took much effort on Eevee’s part as she rocked back and forth on all fours, kicking up at the earth with her paws until a decent dusty smog hit the air, bellowing up into Onix’s face, causing him to roar and blink his eyes rapidly in discomfort, wrenching sideways while he waited for his vision to clear.

“Now’s your chance, Eevee! Tail whip and then quick attack!”

The normal-type Pokemon hopscotched around on all fours, wagging aforementioned tail back and forth, before grinding her paws into the ground. Then, using that friction as a base, she dashed off at high speed, leaping up onto the closest boulder-fragmented portion of Onix’s body, shooting up and up until she was close enough to smash him in the face.

“Again! And again!”

Eevee bounded to and fro in less than a second per command, so instantly that Brock hadn’t even drawn his breath to utter a counter just yet.

Onix, made of rock though he was, did seem to be looking a little short of breath. Misty was just starting to think that she and Eevee would be able to win this without having to call on any other Pokemon when…

“Onix, rage!”

The rock snake’s eyes glinted red and he unleashed a full, deep cry, much the same as the first time he’d been ordered to use that technique. His sudden flailing maneuver forced Eevee to evacuate, and she dodged one last earthy jab by flipping backwards and landing on all fours without a scratch.

“Rock throw!”

Now on the defensive, Eevee dodged as one - two - three! - giant masses were thrown haphazardly her way. Soon the whole battlefield was covered in smog from the dusty ground, so thick that neither trainer could see their Pokemon.

“Eevee!” Misty shouted desperately.

“Onix!” Brock’s tone was quite similar.

“Eevee, if you can hear me, hit ‘em with your quick attack a few more times!”

“Not gonna be quick enough! Harden, Onix!”

They were finally able to make out two distinctive shadows as the dust around them really began to settle and it looked at first like Onix was starting to buckle under Eevee’s repeated full body barrages but the smaller Pokemon let out a high-pitched yelp as the rock-type noticeably upped his defenses, stature growing stiff in response to Brock’s order. The normal-type bounced off her opponent and fell backwards, rolling into the dirt.

“Rage again, Onix!”

It was over so quick, Misty felt winded by the results. Eevee fainted and she went to pick her Pokemon up, carrying her over to Ash and asking him to watch over her for the duration of the battle. Knowing that her starter had willingly made such a sacrifice for the sake of their dream unnerved her some but it mostly left her feeling resolved to not let such a thing go to waste.

Between the type advantage and the sheer massive physical and defensive power, Onix continued to successfully fell most of Misty’s other Pokemon, usually in two to three shots a piece. They did their best to each whittle away at his energy before they were knocked out until, finally, only one was left.

Her last hope…

“Go, Gastly!”

Round seven. If she didn’t win this one then she’d be defeated and have to try for her first badge again another day. After all the training she’d done, all her observations, all of her Pokemon’s efforts, after her loss to Leaf and subsequent first row seat to her rival demolishing Team Rocket’s theft at the Pewter Museum of Science and Natural History...

“Let’s start this off with your confuse ray!”

There was a flash of blinding light that left Brock’s Pokemon looking moderately dazed. Onix swayed from his massive height but didn’t buckle entirely. The gym leader, acknowledging that most of his Pokemon’s attacks would be rather useless, did what he could to strategize around it.

“Rock throw!”

Unfortunately his Pokemon didn’t seem to hear him properly, instead slithering forward before ramming himself straight into the far wall.

“Onix?! Snap out of it! I said you have to use your rock throw on Gastly!”

Knowing better than to wait for Brock’s voice to get through, Misty decided to take advantage of the situation.

“Use your lick attack!”

Gastly floated dutifully up towards his opponent’s face, a prime target for a nice sick lick, guffawing all the while. Onix seemed to stare through him as he approached, appearing both absent-minded as well as short of breath, and neither affect seemed to improve after the ghost-type made contact.

Onix, I said use your rock throw! C’mon, buddy!” Brock shouted from the ground.

Perhaps it was due to Brock’s soothing (yet uneasy) tone finally reaching him, or perhaps he was simply so grossed out by Gastly’s slimy organ streaking across his face, but his vision seemed to immediately clear and he shrieked throatily, going on the offensive and launching a few boulders at the ghost-type’s speedily retreating and gassy back as it trailed away.

Gastly evaded by altering his visibility, fading in and out of sight and appearing in multiple different areas of the gym, once or twice even sneaking up on Ash and Gary (causing the former to vacate not only his seat but that entire section of the bleachers in mere seconds).

If the ghost-type’s uproarious laughter was not indication enough, his level of distraction being so high that he couldn’t be bothered to listen to his trainer’s next directive, cost them their opportunity to maintain a purely offensive position.

“Darn it, I told you to use hypnosis, Gastly!” Misty cried out, stomping her foot into the ground. It took her three attempts just to be heard and Brock and Onix weren’t having it anymore.

“Just keep using your rock throw, okay? Gastly can’t dodge forever!”

And the gym leader was right. Despite his ability to turn invisible at will, Gastly still maintained a semi-corporeal body, and his attempts at escaping a direct his were eventually thwarted by his opponent digging up and utilizing the entire battlefield against him.

Gastly smashed into the wall behind him, pieces of it crumbling to the ground in retaliation. The ghost-type appeared to be downright winded - flattened - where he landed before popping back into full form and gravitating dazedly back towards the center of the arena.

He seemed to turn more serious after taking some decent damage, eyes glowing a smoky violet as he attempted to use his hypnosis after all, however Brock told Onix to avert his gaze, which caused it to fail.

“Don’t waste any time, Gastly; try your night shade instead!”

The gaseous smog floating around the ghost-type seemed to size and shudder, the lights all around the gym fluttering from up in the rafters. There was an eerie shift in the environment and the energy around them all before Onix seemed to be smacked by a mostly invisible wave of dark power, the impact sending him flipping backwards. Just as he was crawling back to his full height, another burst of unearthly energy careened into him, and he crashed back into the wall behind him.

“Onix, counter with your rock throw!”

The two Pokemon were both up in arms, using their natural element to try and take the other out over the next several seconds. Everytime Gastly let loose another round of night shade, it would shoot straight into the newest boulder Onix had dug up from the ground, shattering it to pieces but otherwise dissipating harmlessly. Likewise, the rock-type’s onslaught was useless in reaching the ghost-type Pokemon, though not lack of trying. Alas, any boulder that happened to successfully make it past wave upon wave of elemental power was dodged by Gastly anyway.

It was watching this transpire over the following few seconds that gave Misty an idea.

“Gastly, stop what you’re doing and just listen to my directions… Go left now!” the redhead shouted aloud, watching her Pokemon follow her latest orders to a tee. “Now go right! And… right again! Left now! Left! Right… Now use your sucker punch!”

With each specific instructive shout, her Pokemon phased forward on the battlefield a little at a time, perching in mid-air just long enough for one of Onix’s impending attacks to get within a few inches of impact before being told to move again, and each maneuver got him closer and closer to his target, hiding behind the hurled boulders to conceal his location and eventual trajectory.

The gaseous smog swirling around Gastly darkened and tightened up into what appeared to be a clenched and gnarled fist, smashing into Onix’s stony face and sending him careening to the ground. For the last time, dirt was loosened and lifted up due to the ferocity of the battle taking place before settling once more where it had come from.

Brock returned his family’s precious momento Pokemon to his ball, waving at the referee to call the final round and the victor’s name.

“Onix is unable to battle! The winner of the round, the battle, and the Boulder Badge, is the challenger Misty and her team!”

Gary rose, cheering and clapping, Ash let out a whooping holler, still carefully holding the now barely conscious and still wounded Eevee in his arms. Gastly was rolling around the arena, laughing outrageously to himself, and Misty continued to stand there in the middle of the challenger’s box, hardly daring to believe what seemed to have transpired.

“I… we… won?”

The question came out breathless, almost pained. Her last ditch strategy had somehow panned out and earned her the win? She’d gotten her first badge? She’d… finally proven herself as a professional trainer!

“We won! We won!” she screeched, hopping and dancing around, repeatedly pumping her fists into the air, Gastly swooping in and twirling joyously around her. We did it! Yay!” And she ran towards the area of the bleachers where her friends stood waiting for her, Ash squaring his shoulders and losing all functionality in his limbs as Gastly came near, relinquishing Misty’s Eevee to her so they could properly celebrate their victory together.

It was, in fact, after she’d called Gastly back to his Pokeball (causing Ash to loosen up) and while her starter Pokemon was affectionately and softly licking her cheek that Brock thought it was finally time to approach them all.

Misty nuzzled Eevee’s forehead before giving her to Gary, turning and waiting to receive her prize. But to her confusion, Brock took her by both hands and pulled her close. She felt a rippling shock course through her but it faded immediately when Brock opened his mouth to speak.

“Misty, I…” he began but was interrupted by a balking, apparently infuriated Ash.

“Excuse you!” the raven-haired trainer squawked, eyebrows twitching madly, skin and brain aflame with… with something as he quickly intervened between gym leader and challenger, pulling Misty backwards and freeing her from Brock’s dastardly grip.

“Um…” the redhead began in befuddlement.

“Ah,” the rock-type trainer responded knowledgeably, “so the headstrong, over-protective, jealous boyfriend comes to the rescue.”

The words flew from Ash’s mouth in a flighty rage before he could stifle them.

“I’m not her boyfriend!” And, to further prove such a fact, he willingly stepped away and let the two of them get on with their business.

Misty appeared to have a delayed response after the strange scenario that had just occurred between herself, the gym leader, and her old friend. Nevertheless, she shook it off after a few more moments of half-baked contemplation and resumed her conversation with Brock, clearly ignoring a still furious Ash, who was stomping around and muttering to himself in the background while Gary smirked at his odd behavior.

“You’ve got a good team with you, Misty. May you never forget that this badge,” he told her as he revealed the shimmering circular item, “was earned through the use of your combined power and not just your personal wit alone. It’s important to rely on teamwork and to honor everyone’s sacrifices. Your Eevee, your Butterfree; they knew how important this victory would be to you and fought despite their weaknesses.”

“Yeah, it was probably thanks to Butterfree that you beat Onix at all, ya know?” Gary mentioned from the background.

“Wha’d’ya mean?” she asked in confusion.

“You didn’t notice?” Ash replied, having recovered from his recent temper tantrum, or perhaps he just felt as though he needed to be included in the conversation. “When he fell to the ground and fainted, Butterfree released some of his poison powder. It drifted up and infected Onix. That’s why your Pokemon’s normal physical moves began doing more and more damage; because he was weakened by poison.”

“Wait, really?” And, to think, it had still taken the rest of her team to knock Onix out...

“Anyway, here ya go! You’ve definitely earned this,” Brock relented, handing the shimmering gray pin over to the redhead and watching her eyes slowly widen in awe, her lips starting from slack before curling upward into a relieved smile.

She accepted the token of her victory and couldn’t contain her whoop of glee, throwing up her hand holding the Boulder Badge into the air as if to show it off to the world. She then took a moment to show the badge to Eevee, who cheered her own name from the safe haven of Gary’s arms.

Her next step to becoming the world’s greatest Pokemon Master was complete. And so, her adventure would continue on.

OoOoO

Notes - And so, trainer Misty has earned her first Kanto League badge! What will be her next adventure? Will she have to battle Leaf again anytime soon? And will she learn anything about the evil Team Rocket organization that everyone else seems so wary of?

#pokeshipping #fan fiction #an alternate journey #chapter three #role reversal au #miyatoriaka #fanfic #multichaptered

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fatehbaz · 6 years ago

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In northern Nevada, the soil alternates between a dull yellow and a jaundiced gray, intercut with the washed-out color of skin-rending sagebrush, a sweet-smelling corpse of a plant that clusters in vast broken archipelagos scattered across endless seas of hyper-flammable cheatgrass. When the sun is at its highest, creatures rest in the intricate root work of the brush, bodies entwined in the shade, where undead tendrils offer respite to predator and prey alike -- small dens dug by families of wild foxes, crevices filled with shivering shrews, weaels, and mice; lightless sinkholes hiding legions of night-black beetles; roots entwined with rattlesnakes biding their time. Everything stinks of sun-heated sage, and after working a day on the range, you return to the trailer with the same smell, covered in thin layers of yellow-gray dust. That scent burns its way into your memory like a callus.

I was stationed in Winnemucca, a small mining-and-gambling town just east of the Black Rock Desert and south of the borders with Oregon and Idaho. The town is at the heart of a large swatch of arid countryside, roughly equidistant between Bunkerville, Nevada, and Burns, Oregon, the two sites of the recent Bundy family standoffs that helped to spark the nation’s resurgence of an armed and organized far right. Its economy resembles those of other rural counties in the far West, dominated by the boom and bust of global commodity markets, softened somewhat by seasonal work in tourism, wildland firefighting, and the management of federal land. (...)

In those early years in Winnemucca, (local far right) groups had only just begun to congeal. After our ten-hour shifts in the desert, my co-worker and I would relax with drinks and free games of pool at a local bar called The Mineshaft, a catchment for dead-eyed miners coming off a twelve-hour shift, Burners biding their time until this year’s brief slice of drug-addled reprieve, vaguely white supremacist bikers looking for blood, broken-bodied cowboys and old Basque men trying to wait out the sun. Sometimes train hoppers would wander in from the rail yard -- mostly crust punk traveler kids with their dogs and denim jackets. (...) If I’d paid attention I would have maybe seen in all of this the slow encroachment of the new symbols over the old standards of bike gangs and run-of-the-mill desert Libertarianism. But at the time these things were just under the surface, swells forming before the wave took shape.

Phil A. Neel. Oaths of Blood - Oaths of Water. 2018 draft.

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taetae-lyfe · 5 years ago

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The Four Kingdoms (C.1)

" Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves."

-Henry David Thoreau

Your eyes shot open, your chest heaved, and your body ached. Your mind was fuzzy as your body shook from an unknown force that was pulsing through your blood. Your head was throbbing in pain and confusion, and on reaction, your hand made its way up to rub your forehead, trying to get any relief from the terrible headache.

"What happened?" Your voice was hoarse as it scratched It's way out of your throat. Your eyes began to take in your different surroundings, widening in surprise at the change of environment.

A Forest.

You were in a Forest.

The trees were taller than any skyscraper you'd ever seen, and they all had white bark, each tree with different colored leaves. Blue, pink, purple, ect. The air was filled with the scent of honey and you brought your hand down from your head, the once powerful pounding was now a dull ache. The grass you sat upon was emerald green and soft as silk. Your fingers ran through it with ease and you almost forgot that you didn't belong here.

Almost.

How did you even get here? The last thing you remember was falling. Endless falling, and then a hard, painful landing. You weren't from this place, that much you knew for sure. You were from a small town in Wyoming, and the last time you checked the year was 2018.

Was someone playing a prank on you? Did you sleepwalk out to the middle of nowhere?

You let out a confused sigh as you pushed yourself onto your feet, and ran a hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair, dusting off dirt from your ripped skinny jeans.

"Where am I?" You wondered out loud, taking in your surroundings once again, still a little dazed.

Suddenly the peace of the forrest was interrupted by a loud rustling, coming from somewhere close to you.

Your head whipped to the side as you tried to follow the increasing noise, body now on full alert.

"Hello?" Your soft voice cried out. "Is anyone there?"

The rustling continued to grow louder, and that's when the panic set in.

You ran.

You ran as fast as your legs would carry you. You didn't know why exactly you ran, the feeling of dread that had so suddenly set upon you when you heard that noise was enough to keep your feet moving at a fast rate.

You pushed your way through the tree's colorful branches, but the noise began to grow louder with every step you took.

So many thought were running through your mind, at that moment. What was chasing you? Why was it chasing you? Where were you? How did you get here?

Your body was suddenly dragged to the ground and a scream ripped out of your throat as your ankle was dragged backwards and you lost your balance. While you fell, the thing holding you ankle, turned you. You landed on your back with a loud thud.

A groan of pain escaped your chapped lips and your head was spinning.

A loud roar echoed through your ears and your eyes shot up to the snarling creature above you.

It's body was like that of a man, except two times bigger, and it had only one eye, right in the center of it's head. A grotesque smile was rested on its face as it licked its lips. It's teeth were rotted and drool was pouring out of its mouth and dripping onto your blue tee shirt. It's brutish hands were holding onto your thighs with a crushing grip as it pulled you closer to its unhinging jaws.

Another scream sounded from you as you began kicking and punching, not looking where or what you were hitting, only knowing that you were not going to be eating without a freaking fight.

It's weight was crushing you and it's grip only grew tighter on your thighs, causing you to groan in pain while it's dirty nails dig into your skin, breaking flesh and drawing blood.

Tears began rolling down your cheeks, and you began slowing your fists and feet's motions. You were going to die. You were going to get eating by this ugly beast and die in a place you've never been before.

You squeezed your eyes shut and waited for its teeth to start tearing at your flesh.

But they never came.

The weight was suddenly lifted off of you and the sound of clinging metal, and whisking air was filling your ears.

Your eyes opened slowly.

The creature was no longer on top of you, although you could still feel where his nails had dug into you. Your vision trailed to the two men fighting the beast.

One using a sword and the other a bow and arrow.

Each of them moved with more precision and speed than you had ever seen in your life. Jumping over, sliding under an stabbing the creature. Their movements never once stopping.

They both wore armor of silver, that glistened in the sunlight, it had swirling, magical patterns with a few blue jewels embedded in the breast plate, their hair was long and more neatly styled than yours had ever been and will ever be.

They were both beautiful, almost unreal. You found your mouth hanging open in awe as you watched the two men finish off the creature by slicing its throat.

It's dead body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and both men looked directly at you.

You gulped.

You had just watched these two men kill something three times your weight and size, and now they were staring you down.

You cleared your throat nervously.

"Um- i- thank you, for ,uh, saving my life. It was trying to kill me and you-"

"Silence!" The man with the sword yelled.

Your eyes widened, you wanted to snap back with a sarcastic remark, but after seeing what you just witnessed, you figured it would be best to shut your mouth.

"State your name, rank and kingdom."

Your eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"My name is (Y/N), my rank is a student, and my kingdom is Casper Wyoming."

The two men looked at each other, clearly annoyed with your answer. The man with the bow and arrow, approached you suddenly and pulled you to your feet by your forearm. The man with the sword placed the blade at your neck.

Your frowned and tilted your head back, closing your eyes tightly, and swallowing.

"You speak nonsense, maiden. We have little time for nonsense." The pressure of the blade increase upon your neck. "Speak truth," he started. "Or die."

Your eyes shot open and you looked directly into the eyes of the male holding the sword.

Purple.

His eyes were purple. There were darker, magenta colors swimming in the pools of lavender as they stared back at you.

You were so entranced in the color of his eyes that you didn't notice the shock that covered his handsome face.

The man removed his sword from your neck and grabbed your jaw harshly, forcing you to face the other male behind you.

"Dragon fire." He spoke.

The other males eyes widened as well and he turned to his companion.

"What do we do?" He asked.

The man with the sword released your face and grabbed you by your forearm.

"We will bring her to the king."

Your eyebrows raised at that. King? Last time you checked America didn't have a king and nobody dressed like the two men before you did. Whoever was pranking you really went to full lengths.

"I actually just want to go home to-"

"Silence, maiden. You are requested and obligated to be presented before the king."

You shook your head.

"I don't want to."

The male seemed confused at your statement.

"This is not up for debate, young one, you will see the king."

You frowned.

"Why do I have to?"

The other man spoke.

"Your eyes have seen dragon fire," He paused as he looked to his companion, you could see a flash of fear cover his face for a split second. "And you're still alive."

A/N,

Whew! I have been working on this idea for a long time! I've had this story saved in my drafts for so long, I just had to work out the details! I'm super excited that I can finally post it! Please comment and tell me what you think!

-Max

#bts btsxreader xreader readerinsert kimnamjoon kimseokjin minyoongi junghoseok parkjimin kimtaehyung jeonjungkook TFK

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precuredaily · 6 years ago

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Happy Anniversary to Me

On April 10th, 2018 I published the first entry in Precure Daily. It was very simple, just a few short paragraphs about the plot, characters, themes, music, etc. Stuff I’ve tried to stick to with varying success as the project went on. It started on Facebook, and it started out of a desire to rewatch the entire Precure series. But after watching it, I wanted to talk about it. So I wrote down my thoughts, and posted it in a group, and got some responses. I kept it up, but as a bit of a digital hoarder/archivist/whatever you want to call it, I really wanted a way to keep track of my posts better. So I created this blog. The rest is history.... but keep reading anyway.

As FWPC went on, I started writing more and taking more screenshots. It definitely went overboard on several occasions. I didn’t, and still don’t, do a whole lot of editing. I spit out my thoughts onto the page and hit post. I do try to keep them structured, but the nature of this project means I don’t have a lot of time for reflection and review of my own content, if I also want to maintain a social life. As you all have seen, that can be harder than it sounds. I’ve gotten sidetracked a lot by reality. After blitzing through FWPC and writing an essay every day I was exhausted. I wanted to do a series overview, and I did start writing it, and it is still sitting in my drafts folder, incomplete. It may never be completed. A short break became a longer break while I distracted myself making the banner:

Of course depending on your page layout the banner may not be fully visible and that is incredibly frustrating to me. I am open to suggestions for improving that. But anyway the banner was made, and then finally I decided, screw it, I’ll do the overview when I have time, and dug into Max Heart. As much as I love the world of FWPC, Max Heart is a bit of a slog, and some personal turmoil didn’t help with this. It took me about six and a half months to get through all of Max Heart, and I’m still sorry for that. We’re 4 and a half months into reviewing Splash Star and I just got into the teens, so not exactly doing better, but I’ll try. I initially predicted that, with daily reviews, it would take about 2 and a half years from the start of the project to fully catch up with the weekly broadcasts. It’s going to take about 8 if I keep at my current pace, which is not ideal, but every time I try to speed up I just lose steam again. I don’t know if this project will ever be finished, but I promise to keep going for as long as I can. I want to thank each and every one of the 261 followers I have gained in this first year, but I want to highlight a few who stand out from the crowd: @yugimon135 You followed me here from Facebook and I can always count on you for a good quip.

@sailor-rurouni You’ve been one of my biggest supporters, and best confidants.

@sailorzombiestar You often chime in with some great insights. I look forward to reading your thoughts whenever I see your name in my notifications.

@hanasaki-tsubomi You are probably my number one reblogger and the source of a good number of my followers. Also you post great content on your own page and I love scrolling through it now and then.

@slightlyconfusedcinnamonbun You favorite all, or almost all of my posts, and that’s a huge confidence boost, so thank you.

And of course to every single one of you out there, whether you’ve been following me from the start or you’re a more recent join, thank you and I hope you enjoy the trip. Here’s to another year, two more, three more!

delta9uppy zealouspalacewombatoperator sadqueenfury sparklevoiceacts blacklady25101989 weavingfractals inchoate-continuity nyotalia-girls goldentiger456 pantsmcspectrum ionlycameforthepics mrico18warrior pcharizard magicalclowngirl conniee92 chxvhgvv senjuten songsofsweetsuicide96221 (are you okay?) wrinter xxxcookiedestroyerxxx iamnamitoro serrarawillowfluttershy harunojeanne caduceus-tealeaves cyborg-mommi otaku50095 elfes-new-wings priscillaklance107 radiant-sword kanineking heartflutters pinkmoneydreamerbakery icecandychantilly-bien-sure rensparkle suursuzpandaaa caroiv asweetmemorieillneverforget darlingkouki an-awkward-moron-on-the-internet tiniesttoad ozmav alexasharonrice bl-orp ghost-tricker taebstrash usaghinanami99 yanmazu this-blog-is-very-dead (that may be but you still appear in my followers so I’m gonna thank you for the time you were here) starshimmer1 5sosanimeforlife101 niceglitch spookycottoncandy alvaro1976 kanggyungpil cephaloprincess himawari-cafe ureiharuno kanatoselfshipping sreeves838 heroes-and-starlight nekonekofox spiralstarsworld ladycitrouille d1rty-kn33s kimowaii sparklyheartsdiana curemelody pharaohatemswildtwistedworld wedman cure--amour 7001800000236874 (probably a bot but I don’t discriminate) noisilyfuturisticface cureserena rockithewoman kgmediaproductions lordofsouls52 scolek powerrrings curecelestial sillyturtlepandaegg blammy904 skysilentfly dykeplants precurememes yuki-chan23 i-left-thumblr (I’m sorry to hear that) yournaana yukishiro-honoka-44 ssike-o andy-the-umbreon rebabaka skephalo erinourr mayaradivastar tearsandice delicioustoadwagonranch yummychocolatetimemachine freyachan00 ameliette coldgoldlazarus cheshicat miniaturefesttidalwave kgirl1521 reikaaokiprecure gemslashuniverse toritoz httpmbb catinthehatoncrack (so the Mike Myers version then?) dawgchop celeste-tsumiki-works moonbeam-angel3 holyfloweroperatorpanda meryizza sailorzombiestar jothebuttmunch becky6177 sailorpokemoon justselfloathingthings magicalgirlstarlight fanumi irenyan28 shameninja dbzhardcore theartistformerlyknownasdiva dwfm pastel-chan14 alexanderxpaz paisleykong456 thehotandcoldwar berfinpalta thin-hyuna alex-andersonss prettiboiace19 magicalgirllyfe dlandofdreams andrusi thezanyunicorn yukamilee agstudio9 jval4548 beevolution catsandcoachesinpastel simonsweetsays vj87g loveskpop4ver phoenixhare ppgmutual stone-mahou magicalfurroowo mbooz shirachancosplayer amegatronfan (but which Megatron?) takaharusblog snowaru zinbiotico 0961183652 dollwizard mermain123 idunnothegame yamabuki xmariatigress ashleypureheart auroroafeedelhiver saisycinnimon princess-crystal-bloom delightfulathletehandsweasel nerdomlover aiyanarcaris mirai-stilinskii yukisendai kram00 mechagoing flowerseverythings thestrongguy tired-mechanical-heart onilucitan-zephyram zzaahector eberronguy nangoat youngscissorspainterknight startwinkle-precure jinxedmyself spacescribs pinkzeo1ranger thisisprecurestuff flamingpuppeteer blogyogawp mji-tv sweetsakuraparadise crierofirony crybaby-hero kairoseaerostar fancy-creamy-mocha iamtheshadwk15 unadulteratedscissorscashkid ploomelli miponmirai02 ch-o-ke-me-daddy eerielime moth-something slightlyconfusedcinnamonbun pandahero585 rebornmeem bokurooos unbannned-rescue-cat nevasarini scarlet-paperbag meteorcollide hanami-1234 hjaaaay starfloweer floppychan96 the-shitpost-of-haruks surroundedbyperverts pcd-status (oh that’s me) vampymatsu biburii niconicousagi twinklehana awesomejuanapoop02 sadlittlecheesecake reiriniverse phcorivas-blog sparking-gay ambeer6 sakurathearmy digiroko shsl--fangirl edwinrocks0811 cureswan11 jaydenlittlecupcake cureamour edwardvonstein nagisumi mahounopurikyua go-cosmicprecure peterpenguin sailor-rurouni machiyuu-legends nylaysu bombjour pietasu59 hanamiih zetizaverick waywardtravelgamingathlete lady-gravity-129 thatonenecrobun noahs-vest logicheartsoul pixie-shmixie king-kuuga iuornu yugimon135 mylifemyworldmyuniverse

#read this #PCD anniversary

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bucklesomeswashswan · 6 years ago

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Once Upon a December (10/10)

Summary: Emma doesn’t remember much of her past, all she knows is she needs to get out of Misthaven. The mysterious group called the Industrialists continues to gain power and control since they overthrew the royal family over a decade ago. Out of options, Emma joins forces with a conman Killian and his partner Ruby in their plot to pass her off as the lost princess of Misthaven. But as they travel together and Killian and Ruby try to teach her how to be a princess, Emma begins to uncover hidden pieces of her past. When threats start closing in around them will she choose to escape to safety or risk everything to find her family and reveal a dangerous secret that could change history forever?

Rating: M

Story content warning: some descriptions of violence, slow burn Chapter content warning: smut ahead

Part of @captainswanbigbang 2018.

One last thank you to the wonderful @prongsie whose art is magnificent and perfectly captured this story! Check out her blog for all her amazing artwork! Thank you again to my beta reader @csobsessed-21!

Final Notes: Well, this is the end. It’s so surreal. But it feels right to be ending this story on the first of December!

I cannot express how much this whole experience has made me grow as a writer and as a member of the fandom. This is the longest story I have ever completely drafted and written. There were days, even months, I didn’t think this would ever make it and see the light of day. It definitely wouldn’t have without the amazing support of the other Big Bang writers, betas, artists, and admins! I want to say a huge thank you and a huge congrats to everyone who took part this year as I sign off here.

As always thank you to everyone who has read, liked, left kudos, reblogged, commented, gushed, reached out, and enjoyed this story! You have made this experience what it was!! I love you all so much! Hopefully this chapter will be a worthy thank you and a little cherry on top for everyone who stuck it out this far!!

Thank you again from the bottom of my heart! xx Corinne

Chapter 10 : Someone Holds Me Safe and Warm

Emma spurred her horse on quicker. The road was starting to slope downward along the tall cliffs of the coast. Already she could smell the brine of the sea and feel the salty spray on the air from the crashing waves below.

She had heard stories about Capetown from the grizzled and worn sailors in the fishing village she had lived in. It was a fabled pirate stronghold nestled into a rocky bay that was plagued by mermaids. It was said that the mermaids had caused such a problem for sailors that it had greatly helped speed the transition to airships. Many shipping companies realizing their cargos were safer in the skies than navigating the bay. However Glowerhaven had not taken to the new technology like Misthaven had, and Capetown still remained an important harbor for seagoing ships.

The sun was setting into the waves on the horizon painting the sky in golds and reds when Emma started to see the lights of the town up ahead. Her hand drifted to the pocket of her coat with the slip of paper from Ruby.

Capetown was a village of closely packed houses and buildings with wooden siding, white shutters, and steeply pitched roofs. Gulls cried out from where they perched on the chimneys. The town seemed to have been influenced by centuries of profitable sea trade. There were crushed shells on the roads and walkways and the stores all seemed to be selling nets and ropes and other sailing supplies. There were signs hanging above doors advertising shipping companies and whalers. Outside most of the doors and hanging along the street were lanterns lit with flickering flames. It gave a softer light than the gas lamps she was used to in Misthaven.

Emma slid down from the saddle to lead her horse down the busy streets. Even after dark there were still people milling around, moving into the taverns and haggling over prices of crates of goods outside warehouses and shops.

She stopped a young woman on her way past. “Excuse me, can you tell me where the Swan and Anchor is?”

She pointed up the street. “You’re nearly there. It’s just up the street, closer to the docks. You’ll know it by the sign and the bright blue door. Take care there, that place is famous for a slightly unsavory crowd.”

Unsavory crowds were becoming something of a specialty for her lately.

“I’ll be fine, thank you for your help,” Emma said making her way quicker up the street.

The Swan and Anchor was a sprawling building that stretched more than half a block. It was three stories high, its face dotted with many windows and even spaced dormers rising from the slanting roof. And as described it had two wide bright blue doors thrown open to the night air and there was a group of people loitering at the entrance.

Emma led her horse around to the stable behind the boarding house.

“I’ll need a stall for the night,” Emma told the stable boy. “Give him as much water and hay as he wants.”

“Room number?” the boy asked taking the lead rope from her

“I’m not sure, I’m meeting a friend,” she said. The boy didn’t seem impressed by that answer. Emma dug into her pocket and pulled out a few silver coins and passed them to him. “Will that cover it?”

The boy stared for a moment before he hurriedly stuffed the silver into his jacket. “I’ll see to him right away, Miss,” he said leading her horse back into the rows of stalls.

Emma made her way out of the stable and followed the path around to the entrance of the boarding house. She edged between the people standing there ignoring their looks and sneers. She felt a familiar unease settle in her stomach, that feeling of not belonging. These calculating glances were different from all the stares she had endured the last few days beside her parents but they still made her feel alien. She suddenly wished she had changed into less conspicuous clothes before she left.

She followed the noise to large parlor that seemed to be used as a bar of some kind. There were groups seated at tables laid heavy with mugs of drink, coin and cards, and others grouped loosely around one of the women dressed in brightly colored dresses that hang low on their frames giving wanting eyes plenty to look at.

Emma made her way to the bar and flagged over the woman serving drinks. “I’m looking for someone staying here,” she said.

The woman popped the cap on a bottle of rum before pouring a glass for one of the patrons. “You’ll have to be more specific, we have a lot of rooms, lass.”

“His name is Killian Jones.”

The woman paused looking up at her for a moment a smile tugged at her lips. “He’s got them pretty blue eyes, yeah?” she asked.

Accurate enough. Emma nodded and the woman pointed above them. “Second floor, room 204.”

Emma left a silver piece on the bar for her help and wove her way through the other patrons to the set of stairs tucked at the back of the room. The second floor was little more than a dimly lit hallway with rows of doors leading to rooms. She paused in front of the door marked 204 feeling suddenly nervous. She had raced across Glowerhaven to stop him before he left but now she found herself hesitating. What if there was a reason he never came to see her after the ball? What if he didn’t want anything to do with her now that she was a princess?

She closed her eyes and held her breath as she lifted her hand and knocked on the door. She stepped back once it was done and waited, her pulse echoing in her ears as if she were underwater.

She heard the lock unlatch and then the door opened. Killian stood there looking less put-together than she had ever seen him. His hair was disheveled and he wasn’t wearing his leather greatcoat or a waistcoat. Instead his linen shirt hung loose over his shoulders the buttons down the front open almost to his navel. Emma glanced away at the sight.

“Emma?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you,” she told him.

He frowned glancing both ways up the hallway. “You shouldn’t be wandering around here alone,” he said waving her forward. “Come inside.”

She moved past him over the threshold and a few steps into the room. Her eyes took in the bed in the corner, the small desk beneath the window, the candles on the desk and bedside table, the open book laid out beside the candles as if he had put it down to answer the door.

“Why are you here, Your Highness?” he asked her once the door was closed.

She turned to face him, his tone and use of her title surprising her. She had prepared for a few different ways he might react to her chasing him down, but this formality wasn’t one of them. For a moment they stood in silence as she scrambled for what to say. She wondered if it wouldn’t be easier if he simply read her thoughts and intentions as he had so many times in the past and saved her the trouble of the speech she had practiced over and over on the ride here.

“Ruby told me you were leaving,” she said as a start.

He nodded. “How is Ruby?”

“She’s been offered a position working with my mother. She came by this afternoon.”

Killian nodded again not quite meeting her eyes. He didn’t say anything in reply. Emma could feel her frustration rising. Why was he being so distant? So cold? Was he going to react to anything she told him? Did any of it matter to him?

“She misses you,” Emma said trying a new tactic. “You’re running away from something good. Something that made you happy.”

She wasn’t even sure she was talking about Ruby anymore. The words just rushing out of her before she could stop them.

“You need each other,” she finished.

That seemed to hit its mark. Killian rounded on her. “What do you know about what I need?”

Emma faltered at his sharp tone. “You don’t need to leave,” she told him.

“I can’t stay,” he said bitterly.

Emma shook her head taking a step closer to him, a step she saw him watch carefully. “I know it’s different here, and it’s all new, but we can find a place for you. You’ll have your cut of the reward money, you’re a rich man now. You can start a new life. You could be in charge of trade or customs or whatever you want.”

He blew out a breath, his hand running over his face. “That’s just it. I don’t want your money, and I don’t want a place in your parents’ employ. I don’t want to be a Head of State or Secretary of Trade. I don’t want that.”

His words hung in the air as the silence stretched. She watched him, trying to understand.

“What do you want?” she asked softly.

He looked up with that same unreadable expression she had seen several times in his eyes. It was only now that she recognized it as longing, desire, love. “Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked her his voice hitching on her name.

He didn’t need to say the words because she did know. She had known for longer than she had allowed herself to admit. It was what she wanted too.

“Then why?” she asked him waving a hand. “Why are you running?”

“Emma,” he said her name almost like a plea, a plea for mercy. His gaze moved over her face as if he were memorizing it and she could sense him retreating from her.

His hand reached out to touch her hair where it lay against her shoulder, a familiar gesture. But she watched his eyes as his expression became an impassive mask, armor against the injury he thought was coming. He was preparing for her to break him.

“I know how the world works,” he said. “There are things that can’t be changed.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He tossed his head letting out a sound of frustration. “Come on, I’m not-,” he sighed before continuing, “I’m a criminal, a con, a forger. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, things that shouldn’t be forgiven. I’d be thrown in jail, or worse, if I set foot back in Misthaven. We are from different worlds. You have your family now, a good family, a future, a purpose and a duty. You don’t need something weighing you down. And that is what I would be, a scar on your new life.”

She stared at him incredulously. She could tell he genuinely believed what he was saying, that he thought in some way he didn’t deserve her. As if someone who was so brave, who had risked everything to help her and others, and someone who had saved her life over and over could be below her. As if she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life trying to be as good as he had showed her she could be.

“So sailing off on some ship to who-knows-where is going to fix that?” she asked him.

When he didn’t answer she pressed on.

“You did what you had to do to survive, so did I, but we aren’t the people we used to be. That past is only a piece of who we are, and I will always choose to see the best in you. You’ve made me stronger, braver, kinder, and that is what we can be together. That is the future I want. The rest we will figure out as we go.”

He still looked a little uncertain, a part of him holding back. She decided to convince him the only way she had left. He was the one who was better with words anyway.

She closed the distance between them leaning up to capture his lips. He responded immediately, his arms folding her into him. It wasn’t like their first kiss, something quiet and almost shy, this was consuming and desperate. Both of them trying to keep hold of what they needed. She gripped the collar of his linen shirt as she pulled him even closer.

Heat coursed through her. The feeling of him against her was like a breath of fresh air after a week of drowning. She wanted to get lost in the moment, the feel of his fingers curled in her hair, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart under her hand. It was what she had been searching for so long, at last she had found her place, this… this felt like home.

She hadn’t realized they were moving until her back shored up against the wall and she broke from him with a small gasp.

“Killian,” she breathed looking up at him.

He looked wrecked as his eyes moved between hers.

“I love you,” he told her.

She smiled widely, her hand coming up to his cheek. “I love you, Killian.”

He let out a shaking breath in relief and he leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes fell closed as though he were savoring the moment and the words echoing between them. It was a perfect peaceful moment but she wanted more.

Her hand trailed down his torso taking hold of the fabric of his shirt. His eyes snapped open as she pulled it from where it was tucked into his waistband. He watched her with a glint in his gaze as she ran her fingers along the hem.

There was a question in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow, but there was no hesitation in the way he raised his arms to help her when she lifted his shirt off in answer.

She allowed herself a few seconds to take in the sight. When she had stitched him up on the train she had tried not to stare at him. But now she traced the lines of lean muscle under his skin, she trailed her fingers through the hair on his chest, the line down past his navel. He glanced away as her hands moved up over his shoulders and down to his hands. He tried to pull his mechanical hand from her but she gently took hold of it.

She hated the way he looked ashamed. Slowly, holding his gaze, she lifted it and pressed a kiss to the cool metal of his palm. This didn’t make him a monster, it was a symbol of how much he had sacrificed to help her, a connection to the worst night of their lives, a devotion she hoped to repay.

Emotion swelled in his eyes and he then he was kissing her again pressing her back into the wall as both his hands moved over her until at last they settled where her bodice was laced. His fingers moving quickly to loosen it. She shook her shoulders as it fell to the floor and she reached back to untie her skirt until it followed.

She stood there in only her shift and waited for the creeping nerves. She remembered all the times she had opened herself up and tried give a fraction of her heart to someone. All the mistakes and failures. But there no urge to run, no need to hide behind her walls. There was only Killian standing before her already holding all the damaged pieces of her heart.

She pulled the shift over her head and leaned back against the wall as his eyes moved hungrily over her devouring the sight.

“My princess,” he breathed reverently as he placed a chaste kiss to her lips and then moved to trace the edge of her jaw. She pushed him back an inch and he drew back at once looking up at her as if afraid she might reject him.

“I’m just Emma,” she told him taking his hand and placing it over her heart. “Right now, with you, I’m just Emma.”

He stared at his hand on her for a moment before leaning back into her.

“Emma,” he said, her name a whispered prayer as he placed a kiss at the hollow behind her ear and kissed down the column of her neck. She sucked in a breath in surprise as his teeth nipped at the soft skin there.

“Emma,” he repeated as he bent to kiss her collarbone, her shoulder. His lips leaving a path of fire in their wake. He kissed right over her heart where his hand had been and she wondered if he could feel it trying to pound its way out of her chest.

He kissed down the side of her breast dropping to his knees before her. “Emma,” he breathed again into the skin at the bottom of her ribs making her shiver.

He moved lower still marking a path down her stomach his hands tracing the curve of her hips. One hand warm and one hand cool against her, the contrasting feelings driving her wild. His nose pressed into the dip beside her hip bone. “Emma,” he murmured one more time as he kissed there too.

He looked up at her silently asking permission as he lifted her leg behind her knee and eased it over his shoulder. She couldn’t have managed words if her life had depended on it. Instead she gave him a small nod and closed her eyes tilting her head back against the wall as he moved closer pressing kisses to her inner thigh until at last he reached the place they were both waiting for.

Her hand flew to his hair as she scrambled to get some purchase to maintain her balance. He groaned against her and she thought she might implode. Fire pounded through her veins sparking off her like lightning. She was a shooting star burning as she climbed higher and higher. She clung to him as she rose until all at once every nerve drew tight, pulling in and at last shimmering bliss radiated out of her, starlight dancing behind her eyes, and pleasure like sparks ran down to her toes, to the tips of her fingers. She let out a strangled sound as she slumped down the wall.

“Killian,” she said his name a desperate sound. He caught her against his chest holding her close.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her in that ernest tone that made her heart clench in her chest. Naked and trembling in his arms after what they had just done, and it was his words and the truth in his eyes that made her blush.

He leaned forward nuzzling into her chest, his breath warm against her. But she needed more. She needed him.

She stood on slightly unsteady legs and pulled him up and over to the bed. He followed her willingly. She sank down on the edge of the mattress before running her fingers over the waistband of his trousers.

He was breathing heavily as she undid the laces and slid them down his legs her knuckles dragging over his skin until he kicked them off. She trailed her fingers back up tracing over him making his breath hitch. She loved the sound, the needy expression in his eyes. She held his gaze as she lay back stretching over the soft bedspread.

The mattress dipped as he joined her leaning down over her. She shifted her legs wider, her hands finding the back of his neck and his hip. He braced himself on his elbow as he looked down at her.

“Are you-” he hesitated.

“I need you,” she said because it was the truth in every way. She leaned up from under him, her chest pressing to his as she pulled him into a kiss.

It opened a floodgate and he held her closer, cradling her. She arched up with a gasp as he pushed into her and her body throbbed around him.

“Please,” she begged not even sure what she was pleading for. But as always he seemed to know her better than she knew herself and he started to move. She angled her hips meeting him over and over each motion a wave trying to drag her under.

She let out a needy whimper clawing at his shoulders as he quickened his pace. And then he shifted, pulling her over on top of him and she loved the feeling as she rocked over him. It was only another minute before she was falling again, pulling him over the edge with her, and she collapsed onto his chest both of them breathing heavily.

He held her tightly his face buried in her neck. She could hear him murmuring something against her but couldn’t make out the words with ecstasy still echoing in her ears. She rolled off him curling into his side and he wrapped an arm around her holding her close, his lips pressing a kiss into her hair.

She wanted to stay awake all night, just to savor it or even just to watch him sleep beside her, but already she could feel sleep pulling her under. Her body exhausted and her mind drowsy from pleasure.

She woke the next morning to the sound of ship bells ringing in the harbor before there was any hint of sun in the sky. She felt Killian tense and roll away from her.

She turned to see him sit up, his legs falling over the edge of the bed. He pushed a hand through his hair as if trying to rouse himself fully from sleep before he reached out to grab for his trousers beside the bed.

Fear washed over her. Was he going to leave her? The ship bells, was he still planning on sailing off with them?

“Stay,” she said her voice a little rough with sleep. “Killian, please.”

He looked over at her, brows pulled down in confusion. “Stay?” he asked her.

“I thought,” she glanced down at her hand on the sheets beside her, her mother’s ring on her finger, suddenly feeling embarrassed and vulnerable, the bitter twist of rejection knotting her stomach, “after last night…”

He moved closer to her, pulling one leg back beneath the sheets. “Emma, darling, I’m not leaving you,” he said reaching out to lift her chin and pull her gaze to his. “There isn’t a force in this world strong enough to pull me from your side now.”

She stared. “Then why are you getting up?” she asked.

A smile pulled at his lips. “Because the town is waking up. And your people are going to be getting worried about you.”

She shook her head. “They know where I am. And I don’t think I’m ready to leave this bed just yet.”

He bit down on his bottom lip, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Is that right?” he asked.

She nodded solemnly at him. “I think we could stay in this bed for several more hours.”

He lifted a hand to scratch at his chin. “Several more hours?” he repeated.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed. “At least that long.”

He gave a small bow with a sweep of his hand. “As my lady commands,” he said settling back down beside her. “Your heart’s desire, that’s all I want you to have.”

She smirked at him. “Well, actually there are a few things I desire from you.”

He clucked his tongue. “Taking advantage of your power and subjects already I see,” he said.

“I was planning on reciprocating,” she said watching as his eyes darkened with lust, “I can be a fair ruler.”

“Very magnanimous,” he complimented. “Seems you’ll be a great princess.”

She smiled sitting up and moving to straddle his hips. He looked up at her with something like wonder. His hand came to rest at her hip as she leaned down. Her hair brushed his shoulder as she paused just a breath away from his lips. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

His chuckle was cut off as she kissed him the sound turning to a growl in the back of his throat that sent a shiver through her. She didn’t resist when he rolled them, his weight settling over her and she held him close as a new day dawned around them.

#csbb #captain swan #captain swan big bang #cs ff #cs ff au #anastasia au #steampunk au #my writing #thank you for reading!#it feels weird to be ending this journey after almost a year #it has been a blast

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secret-rendezvous1d · 7 years ago

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For When You’re Missing Me.

NO REQUEST.

This is just something that the smut side of my brain decided to spring upon me, late at night, having stumbled upon a particular video that sparked the idea. My first piece of smut writing for 2018 (I know it’s almost mid-2018 but... deal with it) and, hopefully, the first of many, many more to come this year. Some WIPs that I’ve been working on and have been sitting in my drafts for some time, some new stories that conjure up in my brain, some old requests that have been sitting in my inbox for months and months, and some stories I’ve been promising for a while but haven’t quite gotten around to writing yet.

I’m trying out something new with this piece. Smut is usually a very quick scene that I write. Limited detail. Rushed in some areas. When it comes to smut, the dialogue side of things is something that I’m not so good with, so I hope this suffices and doesn’t make the story too... cringe.

WARNING: THIS IS A MATURE PIECE OF WRITING. PURE SMUT. ALL FILTH. SOME MATURE LANGUAGE USED AND MATURE SCENES. PLEASE READ IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH READING THAT KIND OF STORY.

Feedback would be insanely appreciated.

IDEA BASED ON THIS VIDEO, HERE.

Word Count; 12k+ (what the hell?)

Enjoy. xx

Harry loved his job.

He loved that he was living the dream that he had as a child. The dream he told his mother about, the dream that his father was willing to help pursue, the dream that his grandparents became the biggest supporters of, the dream that his sister never made fun of him for and the dream that his friends always spoke so positively about. When teachers at school asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, what he wanted to do when he left school, he would tell them he wanted to be a singer. A performer who was known for the good times he threw in front of thousands of fans every night, in venues that his idols performed in and in venues that held hundreds of people, working his way to the top until he was performing in front of thousands and thousands of fans. Like a future Mick Jagger. The modern day Elvis Presley. The male version of Stevie Nicks. A singer who wanted to be known for singing his favourite songs, for supporting the biggest campaigns and participating in charity events that were broadcast all over the UK, singing his own songs, putting across strong messages and creating an atmosphere that people enjoyed being in, that they felt safe in; because he’d been to concerts as he grew up and he’d been to places that had live bands and live musicians showcasing their own work and he wanted to do that, too.

He loved that his dream career had become his full-time career. In the space of 5 years, he’d gone from someone who worked in a bakery on Saturday’s and studied during weekdays to someone who was receiving number one singles and awards that he had earned with his friends and cracking every continent on the planet. No longer having to sing on a karaoke machine in the living room and no longer driving his family insane from singing the same song on repeat, no longer having to participate in school talent shows with White Eskimo, no longer having to ask people for the truth about how good they thought he was because he had the stamp of approval from one of music’s highest moguls, no longer being asked to perform at family or friend’s or family friend’s weddings and social gatherings during a twenty-minute slot assigned for entertainment, and no longer needing to work hard to be seen by a talent scout that his school had brought by or to be noticed by someone who might offer him the chance of a lifetime because it as clear that he was already there. He was at the top of the chain of musicians, in a band that was widely spoken about and had become a household name, up at the top of the list with artists he had grown to love as a young boy, during family road trips and playing on the record player on a Sunday afternoon - and he fucking loved that.

He loved that his life now consisted of singing and meeting fans who had waited ages for One Direction to step foot on their land, who had brought tickets to see them and were the real reason they were at the top of the chain of musical artists, and he loved that he was given the opportunity to travel all over the world because every day of his life was a day where he was introduced to somewhere new, introduced to someone new, introduced to a world that he was still so fresh in. Exploring the countries he’d always wanted to go to but never had the privilege as a child, taking in the sights that he’s always wanted to see but could only see them in geography books and magazines, that he’d learnt about in primary school geography and begged his mother to take him to, and being able to turn into a tourist during his days off with a camera, brought with his own income, as he documented every place he stumbled upon to keep as memories for the future. To share with his future children and his future grandchildren so he could be the grandfather who told the most wicked stories, ever. From quaint towns in the mountains that were barely populated with 100 people to sweet villages that were brimming with life and sold homemade treats and trinkets and made him feel peaceful and relaxed. Because relaxing days off weren’t so common for him anymore and he liked to the cease every chance he got to be himself. Where he didn’t have to worry about his name being whispered around.

But the one thing he hated - and it was only the one thing - was sleeping in beds and staying in places that just weren’t home.

To anyone else, they would snicker at the double entendre.

And he would simply tut and shake his head and show his unamused distaste of being someone’s act of entertainment because of what modern day society had done to people’s pure minds.

Harry Styles, the teenage boy who had grown up with all the looks and the charm, who was the womaniser of the most prestigious and popular boyband, hated hooking up with the women? Who hated taking advantage of his status and turned down all the women who fell at his feet and purely stuck his nose up at the idea of waking up in unfamiliar territory. Beds that were far too unfamiliar for him, in a part of the city that he never planned on visiting, in rooms that he’d never seen in his life and knew, from the smell and the feel of the sheets and the atmosphere of the room, that was far, far away from his hotel rooms.

But to everyone else, from his family to the woman he adored and loved to share a bed and a home with to his close best friends and commonly aquatinted mutuals, it was far from something amusing and much rather something that was completely understandable. That was met with nods, a clap on the shoulder, and Everyone knew he liked his own comfort and you, for first hand experience, knew he liked to be in places he was entirely familiar with. YN knew he found it awkward to sleep in beds that he hadn’t slept before - he struggle the first night he slept in hers - and she knew that he liked his own personal space and a room that was all him - or had aspects that were him, whether it be a deodorant bottle on the vanity or a pair of shoes tucked into the corner or a bottle of fresh cologne beside her perfume bottle. That he felt more at home when he was staying in a place that was considered as home.

The hotel in Seattle couldn’t have been further from what felt like home.

The room was small, and he didn’t need to strain his neck to look around, and it was perfectly fitting for just one person - it was a single room, to be honest - with a couple of windows that were smeared with cleaning products, having been wiped after the last person who had stayed in the room, and a view of the hotel pool rather than overlooking the skyline. Which was a view he liked to see when he woke up in the mornings and when jetlag kept him awake at nights; seeing people sunbathing just never felt right to him. It wasn’t like any other hotel he’d slept in before... not that he was materialistic and thought he was worthy of 5 star rooms that looked like apartments and was double the size of his girlfriend’s flat. He didn’t mind not having luxurious rooms fit for royalty because he was happy to have a roof over his head and bed to sleep in for the night. The bed had a squeaky mattress that was too solid for him to lay comfortably upon, it didn’t have his body imprint left behind for him to find as he rolled around and shuffled under the duvet that covered him, and it didn’t have a pillow that completely swallowed the back of his head and gave him intense comfort. It didn’t have the intoxicating smell of his girlfriend lingering in the small space around it, the room didn’t hold them fruity smell of her body spray and it didn’t emit warmth like his bed did back home. The sheets were itchy and scratchy against his bare skin, far from the soft cotton that clung to his own king-sized mattress, and the duvet cover felt like paper... and, if he was being honest, he was sure the pillow had crumpled balls of paper pushed into the pillowcase to fill it out because the pillow didn’t quite succeed its purpose. His feet hung over the end and he knew he needed to curl up to ensure his toes didn’t get cold through the night, only putting pressure on the small of his back and creating kinks that would become trouble throughout his busy days, that might potentially cause him to be winded on stage during a performance. The floor looked like something from a motel in horror movies and it was scratchy beneath the surface of his feet and the light shades were old-fashioned and shaped like overturned tulips.

He missed London and he missed his own home and he missed his own comforting environment more than he had ever done before.

Harry dropped his wallet, his key-card and his phone, encased in a pink and rubbery case, upon the small table beside the en-suite bathroom door, sighing heavily as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Wiping away the sleep that made them feel like they had slits slashed across them with the burning blade of a knife and aiding to the ache that lingered because, even though he felt tired and knew he would probably drop off as soon as his head hit the pillow, his adrenaline-fueled mind just hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of him yet. His suede boots becoming heavy upon his feet, weighing down every step he took and causing him to scuff with each footstep that took his further into the room, as he toed them off and kicked them in the direction of his suitcase.

Outside his room, and scuffing down the corridor, he could hear the rowdy chatter and the heavy footsteps and the cackling laughter belonging Louis and Niall as they made their way to their rooms - Liam having travelled back with Sophia, as soon as the after-show excitement had come to its gradual end - discussing the events of the night, reminiscing on how the show had gone for them and expressing their feelings in how they couldn’t wait to explore the city of Seattle on their day off, the next day, before a late-night flight to Vancouver. Because, as sad as it was to think about, it was the last time they would be exploring the state as a group.

Oh, and that was another thing that Harry hated about his job.

Not necessarily hating it all of the time (because he felt so privileged by it) but hating it most of the time; exploring the cities that One Direction were lucky to perform in, taking in the sights around and learning never-before-heard facts that were fascinating to have stumbled upon, without the one person he wanted to have by his side, snapping candids and capturing the moment with a camera - his girlfriend. Always promising to take her anywhere she wanted to go, anywhere she wanted to explore, to be anywhere in the world that caught her eye, so she could say she’d been there. He felt like he was cheating her, as silly as he sounded, and he was making promises that he knew would take a long while before he fulfilled them.

He crouched down beside his suitcase, toes cracking underneath his weight, and pushed open the top after having left it foolishly unzipped when he was in a haste to leave the room after giving in to Niall’s consistent bangs against the door of his room when he was in charge of making sure they were all meeting in the lobby on time, letting it fall to the floor with a rattle. Zips clinking together. His neatly packed case making him rather frustrated, because he would only need to re-pack it neatly for the journey to the next city, as he rummaged around for a clean pair of boxers and a tee shirt to sleep in; usually, and rather frequently, he would sleep in the shirt that he had performed in (because YN wasn’t there to steal it from him), but, the grey material was soaked with sweat and clung to his back in an uncomfortable manner. Like a second skin that covered his torso. And as much as it hadn’t bothered him at the time, it was beginning to make him feel gross. The shower calling his name, his hair, that was almost instantly tied up in a bun before the journey back to the hotel, begging for a wash, and his back screaming to be rid the discomfort that he chose to ignore - he could freshen up tomorrow.

As he slung a clean shirt over his shoulder, he discovered an envelope.

A white envelope, that was no bigger than the stretched out palm of his hand, tucked in between a suede boot and his gym trainers - the ones that he knew his girlfriend hated but wore them anyway because they were comfy and felt light on his feet as he jogged on a treadmill and threw a few punches at a personal trainer’s mitts - keeping it as flat as possible. Fresh boxers draped over his shoulder, brushing over his cheek, as his nimble fingers pulled the paper from the contents of his case. His name was written in a beautiful cursive script, right in the middle with a couple of ‘x’s underneath, accompanied by a lipstick kiss pressed to the corner in his favourite shade - a magenta that was bold and prominent and smeared a little at the corners.

His finger tore open the seal and he immediately hit another piece of paper that had been folded once and then once again and, knowing his girlfriend like the back of his hand, probably folded a final time to keep it as secure and as tight as she could have possibly made it. Something heavy settled in the corner and capturing his mind with curiosity; it was definitely from his girlfriend, definitely addressed to him, but what on earth could she be giving to him?

A note...

... and an SD card belonging to one of her cameras.

Harry,

 If you’re reading this then you’ve found my little surprise!

I didn’t tell you about what I had planned for you because I knew you’d go looking for it - I know you and you just can’t resist yourself - so I wanted you to find it by yourself, when you were least expecting it.

I don’t know how long it took for you to find it, I don’t know where you’re reading this, what country you’re in or what the time is, I don’t know when you’re reading this or under what circumstance, but what I do know is that you’re missing me more than you thought you would. Don’t lie to me. I’m missing you, too. So, I hope my little surprise will make you miss me a little less. Regardless of when you’re reading this, I’ll see you very, very soon and I’m really looking forward to that.

Make sure you lock whatever room door you’re behind, make sure you’re alone, make sure you’re not going to have any interruptions and make sure you have no plans that will coincide with what I have planned for the next fifteen to twenty minutes... maybe longer... depending on how things go. Enjoy yourself because this is something special, made by me, that is just for you. JUST FOR YOU. No one else. For your eyes only. (And I mean that, too).

 I adore you. Always.

 Love you. xxxx

He tipped it over and let the SD card drop into the middle of his palm. Fogged plastic landing upon his skin, blurring out the label of the black-coloured SD card, with a scribbled heart drawn in the middle with a red Sharpie. A red pen that was, without a doubt, from the collection in his office that he had hidden in his drawer that had the sole purpose on making changes in his schedules and for writing on demo CD’s to be sent off to different artists who had requested his help in songwriting or to be given to his management office across the pond so they could listen to what he’d been working on and to see and hear the well-thought out title of a single that he wanted in the charts. A pen collection that he would always find in her office but hadn’t ever gotten upset over because she always did something so wonderfully colourful with them.

And he wasted no time in rummaging around for his laptop. Whatever was on that SD card, whatever he was going to be met with upon the screen and whatever she was going to be surprising him with was something that got him excited. Tingling from the inside out. Whatever was happening on social media and whoever was tagging him in tweets and in Instagram posts, whatever was making his phone buzz and whoever was sending him messages and making his notifications go crazy, yeah... they can wait, he thought. Butterflies erupting in his gut, fluttering around and tickling all around, pulsing blood through his veins.

Perching down on the end of the neatly-made bed, which made him feel slightly guilty because he’d left the bed in a right mucky state when he’d woken up that morning, he used his teeth and one hand to open the card holder whilst balancing the base of his laptop upon his thighs, using his free hand to open the lid, to type in his password and to direct the mouse to the bottom left corner.

It was was so close to being known and he was expecting something that was from both sides of the spectrum.

On the one hand, he was expecting something sweet and adorable, something that screamed YN. Like a little montage of photos and videos that she’d taken and managed to find from their shared iCloud, putting them all together into a digital photo album, with a song that meant a lot to them (one that they sung together, that they played in the car, that they hummed during dinner, that they always turned up when it came on the radio), with a sappy message at the end that, annoyingly, made him cry. She said it would make him miss her a little less and that would definitely work... but it would also make him miss her a little more than he liked to admit to anyone. Even to her.

But, on the other hand, it could have been a cheeky montage of photos that she’d taken, without his knowledge, that ranged from nudes to lingerie shots to close-up selfies that looked incredibly realistic to her ‘Harry’s just fucked me really rough’ face. A face that had a mix of her mascara and her tears running down her cheeks, hair matted to her forehead with sweat and her lipstick smeared across her lips and the underside of her nose - his favourite look.

He squinted at the screen to see the title.

JUST WANT UR COCK BUT THIS WILL HAVE 2 DO

What will have to do? What was he about to see? To witness?

What was this surprise?

He cautiously double-clicked on the small folder that appeared once he pushed the card into the slot at the side of his laptop, his eyes darting nervously from the bright screen to the door of his hotel room, silently praying that Paul, or anyone from the crew, didn’t walk in to tell him “light’s out, big guy. Busy day tomorrow”. A paused screen going straight to full-screen mode, showing the smiling face of his girlfriend, who was half-naked and had one of his button-up shirts covering her exposed breasts. Her nipples erect and almost tearng through the material.

“’ello, my sweet peach.”

He grinned widely, on instinct, because he’d really missed her voice. Hotel rooms sounded eery when she wasn’t there to fill the silence with her cackles and her garbage talk about why pigeons looked the way they did or how planes managed to stay in the air despite being made from metal - he hated those types of conversations but had really grown to miss them when they weren’t there to drive him insane.

“Wait, no. That sounded weird. Sweet peach. Let me start this again. Sorry.”

He chuckled lightly when the screen went black, cutting off from, what he imagined was, a mistake that she had left in for humours sake that was there just to make him laugh. The seconds still ticking away at the bottom of the screen and he chose to sit and patiently wait. Her face, no longer than a couple of seconds more, soon appearing back on his screen. Closer than it was beforehand, with the buttons of his shirt, that were done up to help keep her breasts covered, now unbuttoned and allowing the flaps to open with each movement she made.

“Hi, mister. Hey. Hello... ohhh, yeah, that felt so much better. Nice and simple.”

He snorted; he wanted to say he loved her little, out-of-the-blue nickname because ‘Peaches’ was a newfound pet name she was experimenting with, just a little personal something between the two of them before she took to using it in the world outside, but, if he had to be honest, he preferred her second attempt. It was sweet and natural and very YN.

‘Mister’ was what she called him on a regular basis, had been since their first date, whether it be to sweet-talk him or when it casually slipped out during a conversation at breakfast or from beneath the shower, and it had slowly become on of his favourite nicknames for himself. A difference from the common H or Haz that his friends called him.

‘Missus’ slowly becoming part of his vocabulary just so he could match with her. So they could be that cheesy couple who had the cute nicknames and made their friends gag dramatically in their presence but fawn over them in the distance.

“I’m guessing that, since you’re watching this, you’re all alone and in an empty hotel room and feeling a little lonely and missing me, yeah? You found this in your luggage, realised you missed me, and just wanted to see what I had for you, is that right? I imagine you’re feeling a little horny, too? Since you saw the title. And you just want me there, sucking you off, making you cum, and making you feel good, right? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A long while,” he mumbled to himself, gulping thickly as he pressed pause, and released a deep sigh. The door needed to be locked and he needed to be naked, if not completely than definitely, from the waist down. This wasn’t a case of slipping his hands into his pants and trying to be discrete about the whole thing; he was on his own, and he would be till morning, and he had no need to worry about being interrupted with someone who was eager to see him. With her looking like that, dressed in his clothes, with a sultry voice being used to talk to him, he had a feeling this wasn’t something that was quiet, meant to be soft and made just to make him cry. “A really long while.”

He stood up from the mattress, discarding his laptop to the side of him, as he unbuttoned his black jeans on the way to lock the door, grabbing a ‘do not disturb’ sign on his way passed the small table that he bumped into upon both of his arrivals into the room that day, sticking his head out of the door as he hung it on the handle. Grinning to himself because if anyone noticed, he would be ridiculed and teased. He wouldn’t mind what they thought though. He didn’t think any one else, from the crew to the boys to the strangers who walked passed in the night, had a loving partner as surprising and as thoughtful as his own and, deep down, he liked how jealous he would be making them.

He shimmied out of his jeans, letting them pool at his ankles as he stepped out of them and left them in the middle of the room, his sweat-soaked t-shirt soon joining the black denim. Hobbling around on one foot as he tugged off his socks and threw them over his shoulders, not particularly fussed about where they landed, darting to the window to pull the sheer curtains to a close. Almost succumbing the room to complete darkness if it wasn’t for the yellow glow that emitted from the lamp on the bedside table - he could deal with that. Tugging off his boxers and leaving them on the floor, closer to the bed than his other garments, he situated himself against the headboard because, over the many years of having to have solo orgasms when his cock wouldn’t soften and wanking until he could no longer wank, he’d found that was the most comfortable position to be in.

Using his foot to reach for his laptop, pulling it close with the arch of his ankle and leaving it be on the empty side of the bed, stretching out his thumb to press the space-bar. Her voice, yet again, filling the quiet room.

“I thought I’d treat you to a little something special,” was the first thing she said when the video continued, “so consider this as my way of apologising for not being able to travel with you on the first few legs of your last tour with the boys. Should’ve tagged along, really. I bet you’re having a great time though. With all the lads, having lad fun and being all lad-y. Although you’ll probably tell me you aren’t because you miss me and want me with you because you always enjoy having me around. I think that might be something to do with me being your personal groupie though. Going to all the shows, squeezing in a shag in afterwards, but never saying goodbye to me because I’m your girlfriend and I’m always there in the mornings.”

He smiled a little, shyly amused, and dropped his chin to his chest; she found humour in reading about his X Factor days and how 16-year old Harry was a little bugger when it came to the ladies. Comparing him to the Harry she knew because she could see that näive teen streak, showing at times but remaining hidden, still inside him. He knew she had stumbled - well, she says stumbled but he knows there was more to it than her coming across it during her time in the toilet - upon an old story, about him and Zayn and a couple of girls who had followed them around on the duration of their very first tour. Finding it funny to use “Christabelle Riley” when she felt annoyed with him or when she wanted to be downright annoying to him or when she wanted to make him squirm because she was in one of her playful moods. The name being one that he wished she’d drop because it was something about his past he wished to forget all about - he was a serious artist. Wanted to be taken for more than just his ‘groupie’ past.

“Do you remember that gift you brought me a while back? For my birthday? The one that you had to hide away from the rest of the presents, in the corner of the garage, because our parents were there?”

Sybian - that’s what the website said it was called.

And how could he forget about it? It would be impossible to. He had never heard of one before, let alone seen one, so he almost spunked in his pants when he stumbled upon it. On the dark side of a website specifically for sex-toys, different bottles of lube and specially-made lingerie that weren’t just to look good on the body but were also made to help encourage the feeling of pleasure - pouches in the knickers, vibrating knickers, role-play outfits of all sorts and latex garments that accentuated every curve of it’s wearer. Having ordered it at a time when he couldn’t spunk in his pants; when he had a spare few minutes from doing a chunk of recording in the recording booth, when Jeff was out on a call from his father and his band were out getting a bite to eat, having promised to bring him a sandwich and a water from the shop on the corner.

“Well, I’ve only used it once, just to test it out, and I thought it would be a perfect piece of footage to give to you, whilst you’re away, so that you have a little piece of me as to not miss me so much. Something sexy so you don’t need to stare at photos or watch porn. I see your web history after you say you’re ‘going for a nap’, you dirty prick.”

He feels his cheeks heat up.

Even though she knew that he was a avid watcher of amateur porn videos and even though she knew he turned to Pornhub when he was having difficulties feeling satisfied, he still felt embarrassed when she called him out on it. Having been caught one afternoon, when she was supposed to be spending the whole day with his mother, with his hand around his cock and a body that was spread out on the bed with clothes all over the floor, as he watched an amateur teen having the time of her life with a vibrator as she spoke dirtily to the man to the side of the frame, she hadn’t let him live it down. She watched him, she watched the video, and she waited for him to finish before she made her presence known and his face was purely picture-perfect. His mouth in the shape of an O, his eyes wide and watering at the corners, his cheeks heated and flushed, his hair completely tousled after he’d tugged and pulled his strands and his thighs were still quaking. Picture. Bloody. Perfect.

“It makes a difference from all those other videos that I send to you, as well. The ten second Snapchat stories or the grainy iPhone camera videos that you get to see when you wake up. The is done on my proper camera. My blogging camera. Professional and all that. And, unless you lose this SD card, it’s just yours and no one elses. It won’t get leaked, it won’t get downloaded, and my modesty, and my dignity, will forever be in tact. My boobs are yours to see. Not the world. And, as much as I love the toys we have and the dildo’s you’ve brought me that are all shaped like you, this has to be one of my favourite things to play with. So, thank you for buying it for me. We can both have some fun with this.”

Riding a prick was something that he didn’t think about too often. Of course, he’d explored around as a teenager and he’d slipped a finger in and what have you, had the opportunity to find what really got him going, but having a cock sit heavy in a place that burned with the thickness of a finger was something that he wasn’t desperate to try. That wasn’t on the top of his fantasy list. It was something that he’d brought just for her to use when she was missing his body to straddle rather than penetrating his hole that was foreign in the act of anal and had only been visited once in the past... by her tongue and a thumb and forefinger.

The memory, on its own, was enough to make him shudder. A good shudder, of course. The kind that came from something that felt really good, really pleasurable and came from something that had good intentions behind it, and he knew that experimenting around would bring him immense pleasure.

“Tonight, from me to you, I’ll be riding this.”

He felt his cock twitch when she jazz-handed as a way to show it off, involuntarily and almost reflexive against his stomach, much like it did when she happened to be wearing something that got his motor running or did something that he found rather enticing - like it did when she hunched over in front of him and allowed him the chancing moment to peek down her top and to stare at her boobs cupped so delicately by a pale-yellow bra or when she purposefully bent over in front of him and gave her bum a wiggle because she knew he couldn’t let the moment go unseen. He let out a choked sob of relief when he gave his base a soft squeeze, dropping his head back against the headboard as he slowly pulled his fist all the way to the top of his shaft, his foreskin tickling his length underneath his heavy and rather sweaty palm.

His other hand slipped down his body, his fingers toying with the pebbled nipple to the right of his chest before he ghosted the tips down his abdomen and down passed his belly button, itching at the underside of his belly and feeling his stomach contract as he brushed over a slightly ticklish portion of skin, until he was happy on where they had settled. Course hair, thick and dark and looking a little unruly (“a trunk as thick as yours always needs a little grass around the base” is what she’d always told him when he questioned whether to shave or trim) at the touch of his fingertips, enough to grab in small clumps and long enough to not lose a grip of. A strangled moan bouncing around the insides of his mouth before it escaped the small gap made when he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

Her virtual presence, so bright and infectious upon his laptop screen, was there for his disposal and for his needs and, due to how delectable she looked, it was easy for him to let his imagination run wild inside his mind. Plain and simple for him to imagine that he was balls-deep inside of her. Sinking into the most desirable, cavernous-like space so deep and filling her up so nicely and deliciously, with her slick walls clenching and squeezing around him in the way that he just loves, in a way that could never be forgotten because it felt so pleasurable. So insanely good. How her legs would almost always spasm and how her thighs would quake and how she would shiver and pierce his back with her fingernails as he pounds into her and fucks her through her euphoric high.

His hips jut upwards impulsively and he tears his hands away from his pubis, thick with hair, and tucks them between his open thighs, his little finger resting perfectly against the crease where his thigh met the curve beneath of his pubic bone, and he begins to fondle his balls gently. Rolling them between his fingers, cupping them and almost making juggling motions (juggling - which he had become a professional at doing) and making the muscles of his stomach tighten even more.

“So good, so good... fuck.”

In his mind, she’s saying his name. Well, not exactly saying it... more like mewling it out from quivering lips. Eyes wide and staring into his, legs tight around his waist as he deeply grinds his hips into her, her orgasm being so visible through her coloured orbs as she cries and squeaks out her appreciation, as her fingers cling to his neck. The heels of her hands resting at the top of his neck, her nails scratching at his scalp as her fingers push through his hair, tugging harshly on the sweaty roots that were beginning to feel dirty and gross under her touch and the sensation, itself, was enough to make him loose his smooth rhythm...

On the screen and filtering out from the speakers, filling up the empty spaces in the air that was full of his deep panting and soft moans, she was deep in chatter - so far from where his imagination had taken him. He’s not sure what she’s talking about, really. She’s pointing at things, reaching out of the frame from things, grinning at the lens and toying with the hem of the shirt covering her body.

“... so, I guess I should explain to you how this works? It might make it a little easier for you. I’ll show you. It’s a fascinating piece of equipment,” she heightens herself on her knees and crawls forward a few centimetres, her hands coming up from her side to adjust the button-up that was flowing away from her torso. She stretches over and picks up, what seemed to be, a control box. A heavy block, that looked rather mechanical, that was coloured silver and black. “This is its remote control and it controls everything to do with this toy. The rotations. The vibrations. The speed of both. Oh, god, and I have full control so I’m like a dominant and a submissive all rolled into one,” she giggles, and it makes his heart skip a beat, with a contagious little squeak that had him letting out a chuckle - well, a loose breath of warm air pushing out from between his lips. “I can be tough on myself. Give myself a real go at it. Make myself cry and all that. Or I can be really soft and gentle. Calm it all down if it gets too much. I’m a softie so...”

She grins so widely before her shoulders slump and she drops from her height, her bum brushing over the carpet of the bedroom. And, as she stares at the camera with her hand wrapped around the fake, peach cock, he loses it. Completely and utterly loses it and gives in to the coil in his gut that was screaming out in mercy. Her eyes holding so much behind them as he squeezes his own shut, cumming hard as he continued to jerk his shaft, imagining her clamping down on him tightly as he filled her full of his thick juice. He wheezes, like he was winded and struggling to catch his breath, slumping down upon the mattress and ruffling the pillow that was trapped between his back and the base-board of the bed.

“... it’s extraordinary, Harry. I’ve never seen anything, or ridden anything, like it. This attachment is a wonder. My clit sits and rubs against here,” - she points to a small lump made in the rubber, scratching her nail over the grooves made for added pleasure - “you see the little bump? Well, I say little but it’s not. It’s like a lump. Yeah, uhm, that’s where my clit sits. The curve, it’s perfect, and the wiggly lines - I think they’re the grooves? Yeah, they make it so much better. The rest slips deep inside me,” - she strokes it like she would his cock and he glances down at his slippery, mushroom-shaped head, oozing cum and turning a deep shade of pink - “like your cock would do, but it doesn’t go as deep as you go, and it doesn’t fill me up as half as how you fill me up, but it feels so good. And it rotates and vibrates, too. Unfortunately, your cock doesn’t do that. It’d be cool, and a little weird, if it did. But I love it, nonetheless. It’s my favourite cock to ride. And these plastic ones will have to do until you get back to me.”

He wished he had something other than his hand.

He says he’s not adventurous in exploring new positions, new techniques upon one side of the relationship, but he’s all for experimenting with toys. He nicked one of her vibrators one night, for goodness sake!

She had a couple of rounded-tip vibrators in her bedside drawer, she had a wand that was his preferred vibrator to use on her (and himself), and she had a small dildo collection (that he had stumbled upon when he was being a domestic house-boyfriend and cleaned the cupboards of their walk-in wardrobe) that, after much interrogation on his part, she said she used rather frequently. A shy promise to use one when he was home and when she was next in that mood.

He had nothing but two hands and a vivid imagination.

“So, this is the rotation,” she twists the knob, with the “ROTATION” labelled beneath it, and there’s an abrupt sound that begins to crackle through his laptop speakers. His eyes completely focused on how fast it was spinning on the spot. “This is the fastest speed but that is way too fast for me. Maybe we’ll go that fast when I’m feeling a bit more courageous and feel more confident. Maybe when you’re here so I can focus on you and how you like to get off to me getting myself off. Because watching your hand around your cock, jerking yourself and cumming from your own touch, yeah, that really gets me going. Could watch you do that all day, like watching my favourite movie,” and she sports the naughtiest of smirks as she looks at the camera, sending him a cheeky wink, toying with the knob as she adjusts the speed to show him, “and, if it gets too crazy, I can just turn it down. And, if that gets too less and I need a little more, I can turn it back up and let it go crazy. Reaching inside and touching every inch of me. Not as good as you though, of course,” she slows down the rotations and adds a little force to the small switch at the bottom of the left-hand side, stopping the mechanical motion completely, “I’ll probably just go to the halfway mark. It was on a real slow rotation last time I used it and it took me forever to get to an orgasm. You’d have laughed. Called it a useless contraption and gave it a kick for not doing it’s job.”

Useless, of course, for not doing its assigned job in making her squirm and scream.

That was the reason he brought it, of course: to help fulfil the need and the desire for nothing but pure satisfaction when he wasn’t there to help her. It was junk if it didn’t serve it’s purpose.

“... the vibration though? Harry, it’s fucking crazy. You wouldn’t believe how good it feels. I had it on quite a quick vibration last time and, oh my god, you’d have to feel it yourself to understand how amazing it feels. It’s insane,” she smiles sweetly and it drives him nuts as he slumped down against the pillow, his non-existent double-chin resting against his chest as he switched his focus between his erect cock and his girlfriend, crawling backwards and setting herself up behind the mount, “are you ready? Make sure you’re on your own, yeah? Make sure there are no interruptions? Stick a sock or a tie on the door or something. Let people know you’re occupied and have no time to spare for anyone because this is for your eyes only, mister,” she points accusingly at the camera lens, at him, and he giggles tiredly, “do you understand me? If I find out that one of the boys has caught a look at me, you’re on the sofa for the next year. No sex, now blowies, no handjobs, or anything. You’ll have to resort to your hand.”

He knew she was serious because it had happened before. Not to the same extent as what she was implying, here, but... rather similarly.

They were fresh into a relationship, give or take eight months, when it happened.

Despite dropping the ‘L’ bomb just 5 months before, and with their first time being sexually intimate with one another just a short 2 months before, they were still exploring the excitement they could have with one another and they were still finding their own ways in dealing with the distance when he was country hopping for tours and promotional purposes and they were still trying to come to terms with being away from one another for so long. It’s when nudes were first introduced. When the very first video, filmed by her and sent to him, first happened. Of course, he had initiated it - she’d woken up, one morning, to a rather glorious photo that he had taken from the bathroom of whatever five star hotel room he was staying in, with everything on show and the cheekiest of grins on his face, without an inch of embarrassment written on his face. He seemed so happy. Pride was probably the correct way to describe it.

Given the time difference between London and the States, she’d sent him one back... breasts on show, laced knickers at the bottom of the frame, with her bottom lip between her teeth and a seductive wink that closed her left eye... and it couldn’t have been sent a worser time.

Because she was inundated with messages that she had a feeling weren’t sent from her boyfriend. In the 244 days of being with him, she had never once seen his use slang or the common ‘text language’ that the kids were using, back in the day. Lots of ‘u’s rather than ‘you’s, lots of ‘2’s rather than ‘to’s, plenty of ‘z’s being added to the end of plural nouns rather than the usual ‘s’s and there were no ‘xx’s at the end of the texts and Harry never skipped out on sending a couple of little kisses at the end of each message he sent... never.

She couldn’t talk to the four boys for weeks. Could barely look them in the eyes because she felt so humiliated.

“... oh! Do I look good for you, baby? I hope so. I feel good with myself. Been wearing this for the majority of the evening. I bet you look pretty amazing, too. All spread out on the bed, completely naked and just the way I like you, with a little semi going on because we haven’t reached the real action yet but you know what’s about to come and you’ve gotten all excited.”

She giggles sweetly and peels away the lapel of the white, intricately scattered with black polka-dots, button-up that draped down her torso, and she lets it fall off of her shoulder to show one of her breasts as she grabs at the soft flesh. Pinching her nipple and biting her lip as it sparked a reaction throughout her body, a cheeky wink sent to the camera before she rolled her shoulder swiftly, bringing the material back to cover her chest.

“Although, that one flash of my tit probably had you sporting a hard-on like a teenage boy seeing fanny for the first time.”

It falls silent between both ends and all he can hear is his wheezing breaths as his chest rose and fell with each deep breath her took.

“Have you just come off stage? All high on adrenaline and you’re not sure what to do with yourself, yeah? You know I live for post-concert you. Sweaty, smelling a little dirty, t-shirt clinging to you, patches under your arms and your back completely soaked. You know how that gets me riled up, Peaches. When you smell like you’re already fucked out, like you’ve already been through a few rounds with me, when you’re all hot and bothered and eager to get that cock inside me.”

There was one night that came to mind; June 3, Edinburgh, 2014.

As soon as he stepped off stage, backstage at Murrayfield Stadium, she’d been glued to his side from the moment she gave him a kiss to congratulate him on such a remarkable show. Despite the horrendous smell that wafted from under his arms and despite the sticky sensation that he could feel all over his skin, she stayed tucked under his bicep as he thanked everyone for being so helpful, grabbed himself a chilled bottle of water and let the boys know he would be missing out on their scheduled boy’s night out because he knew he wouldn’t last long in a dingy bar, drinking his weight in tequila shots and cheap lagers, and being stared at, regardless of how many times he escaped eyelines. With a promise to head out with them when they arrived in London and getting everyone together to celebrate their return, he sunk his mouth into YN’s hair and they were out of the stadium before anyone could tell them to stop with their “disgusting PDA”.

She’d practically wanked him off in the car and ruined the orgasm that was building up in his belly, she’d left hickies all over his neck in the lift going up to their room and she’d tore his shirt at the collar in a haste to take it off, she’d hid her hand in the waistband of his jeans and squeezed his bum as they scuffed down the corridor and, as soon as the door to their hotel room had closed with a click against the lock, she’d whipped his trousers down and, without any hesitation, welcomed his semi-hard cock into the warmth of her mouth before they had the chance to make it out of the entryway.

To this day, he still wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline that made his stamina break the bar on how long he could last or whether it was the excitement of sinking nice and fulfillingly into his girlfriend multiple times throughout the night... he was thankful for whatever it was though.

“Do you want to fuck me? I hope this video, me riding this, makes you want to fuck me even more. I hope it gets you excited to come home, to sink deep into me, to make me feel good. To make me feel even better than this ever could,” she scoffs to herself playfully and bangs a hand down on the arched mount, “let’s make a deal. I’ll cum for you if you cum for me.”

His eyes widened nervously as he took a glance down at his, what was once tight and almost in a death-like vice, fist. His fingers loosening from the grip he had upon his erect cock, letting it spring back against his slick stomach, splattering a few droplets of spunk that caught at his slit, the space of stretched skin between his thumb and his forefinger sporting a glow of his ejaculate; sticky against his flesh, dribbling down to his wrist and speckled upon the fuzz of his upper thigh because he was always messy when he came and, really, he wasn’t afraid to admit that.

“Bugger,” he mumbled lowly, coughing into his clean fist to clear his dry throat, “could’ve bloody said before I spunked, baby.”

“And you have to tell me how good it felt afterwards. I don’t care if I’m sleeping or if the time difference is wacko or if I’m busy and can’t get back to you right away. If I’m with your family or my family or out with friends. I want a simple text to tell me how could you feel after blowing a load over this video. To know that it’s done its purpose. Because this whole thing is to make you feel so good. Is that an okay deal? I think that’s a pretty good deal.”

He heard her cough and he watched the screen intensely as she taps her fingers against the black leather.

“Wrap your hand around your cock for me. And stroke it. Stroke it like I would for you. Up and down. A little squeezing. You know how it goes, don’t you? Keep doing that until you cum for me. Can you do that? You better be able to do that for me. I know you can and you don’t want to disappoint me now, do you?”

He shook his head, and he chuckled lightly because she couldn’t see him, and happily obliged. Tightening his hold upon his cock, for the second time, and wiping his sensitive head to evenly spread out the remnants of his orgasm. Wincing through clenched teeth as spasms of electricity shot through him, pulsing his veins more rapidly and throbbing in his hold. His mouth watering as he stared between her thighs.

“You know what my pussy looks like. But, here’s a little glance before it’s ruined by this contraption,” she says as she leans back on the mount, hands bracing her weight on the edge of the arch to stable herself as she pushes up, into an amateur crab position, to let the camera focus plainly upon the soft folds between her thighs, “remember how this looks, yeah? If you have to rewind it, rewind it. If you have to take a screenshot, take a screenshot. A photo with your phone or whatever. Because I’ll show you again, at the end, to show off how crazy this makes me feel,” she leans her weight on one hand and uses her forefinger and middle finger to spread her slick folds, letting him catch a couple of seconds of her, yet to be ruined, pussy before she settles back on her knees and lets the rounded tip brush over her clit, visibly shivering at the stretch of pleasure coursing her veins.

“I’m not going to lie. I’m a little nervous. You’re actually out with Nick right now, you know? Remember when you came home at the end of June? A couple of weeks ago? Spent a couple of days with me before you took off to America? Nick took you out for some beers and you’ve been out for a few hours now so you could be home at any minute.” - And he remembered this so vividly. How she’d given him a clean button-up and told him to not where black jeans because it was muggy out and he would have gotten hot, how she’d snuck into the shower with him when he was getting ready to leave and how she’d helped him shave because, the last time he shaved, he had missed a patch by his sideburn and looked utterly ridiculous. She’d made him a cheese and pickle sandwich with a cup of tea so he had his stomach lined before his night out and she’d ate her own dinner whilst he ate. He’d kissed her goodbye when Nick had arrived in the taxi and he’d begged her to give him a reason to stay at home because, deep down, he didn’t really want to spend the night with his friends and get pissed to the point where he would be vomiting all night and would end up with a rotten hangover by the time the morning came. He remembered how they’d teased him because he’d been glued to his phone the entire night, how he’d been texting his girlfriend because he missed her and didn’t feel right without her there, telling her how he should’ve been feasting on peanuts and drinking lagers but had chosen to stick to water and cokes, only for her to encourage him to have a good night because she could look after him in the morning, and he’d told her how it didn’t take long for Nick to start sweet-talking the bartender because he thought he was cute. How he’d walked through the door and tripped over his own feet and fallen flat on his face because YN was in stitches when she told him over breakfast the following morning, how he’d been sick in the bathtub because, apparently, the toilet was too far from the door, and how he’d been bedridden until his flight in the late hours of the evening. - “It’s exhilarating to know you could catch me but I really don’t want you to catch me. Because then this whole thing, this video and this surprise, would be ruined. It’ll be your loss. Your fault.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes - he still would’ve asked for the video to be in his possession and he knew she wouldn’t have been able to turn him down.

“Are you hard for me yet? I want you so badly, you know? Every time I want something to penetrate me, to slip between my walls, to fill me nice and deep, I’ll always think about how badly I want you. How badly I want you to penetrate me. How badly I want your cock to slip between my walls and how I want you to fill me up, nice and deep, and hitting all those delicious spots inside me. The ones that have me squirming underneath you.”

He could feel his second orgasm beginning to tip over the brink and his cock was involuntarily twitching, again, in his hand. His slit pulsating and his tip tingling and his veins making his shaft feel hot as he flicked his wrist in achingly slow jerks. He’d already had one and he was as sensitive as his teeth were to ice-cream - it was painful but it was pain that was delicious and enticing.

“If your mind wanders away from wanting to fuck me, that’s okay. You think about whatever you need to think about. If you want to think about these lips,” she points at her pink lips and using her finger to drag her bottom lip down, “wrapped around your cock, shining with your pre-cum and bright pink against your tip, then go ahead. If you want to think about this tongue,” she sticks out her tongue, flat and thick, and wags it from side to side, “licking you up and down and coating your balls with spit, then go ahead. You’ll be able to feel the real thing soon. Wrapping around the head of your cock. Sucking gently, at first, and getting harder and harder and harder. Until you can barely see straight,” she tickles her fingertip down her neck, down between her collarbones, down the middle of her torso and taps the hooded bundle of nerves at the top of her pubic bone, “and, if you need to think about this pussy, riding you, going in and out of me,” she lets the dildo sink into her, reaching up inside her and settled so perfectly that it felt like it was breaking all kinds of walls to feel so good, “like this, then think about that. Think about my tight little pussy wrapped around you because I know how much you like to think about that. Know how much you love the feeling of me being completely wrapped around you.”

“... oh, what about my bum? Know you’ve slipped in once before. Could think about that, you know? Sliding in and out of there,” - he visibly shuddered. Because, little did she know, he thought about their first anal session whenever he needed to get off and was struggling to do so. Remembering how her bum was propped up by her pillow, how his hands cupped her ample cheeks with his fingers, how his cock laid perfectly where the crevice of her bum met the small of her back and how it felt so delightful as the newfound feeling, that was foreign to the both of them, took over. - “I know you liked how that felt, Peaches. Feels good, doesn’t it? When someone loves on your bum? When someone takes you to cloud nine by inflicting pleasure around the backside? Must give your bum some more loving when you get back home.”

He was too shy to ask her about exploring the area that was his backside, up front, so he would definitely hold her to that. Would even quote her, if he had to.

“Are you ready to start? I’m ready to start,” she stretches over and grabs the square remote control box, holding it tightly in her hand as the back rested against the bare flesh of her thigh, “there is one thing I forgot to tell you though. Might make you get there a little faster. This little contraption makes me squirt, you know? Feels so good that I just can’t help it. Thinking about you, it drives me insane, and I wish you could see this in person, Harry.”

His head snapped up just as she shrugged off his button-up; squirting? That was somewhat brand-new for the both of them. Sure, they’d spoken about it and he’d always wanted to try and make her have a wet orgasm that soaked his thighs and had her completely convulsing in his arms, and he’d googled all about it and whether it was normal and easy for all women to do, but they’d never reached the perfect moment to give it a try.

“Have to be hard now, right? Been naked for a little over five minutes. Had my tits on show for that long. You’ve probably already had one orgasm, hm? Watching me fuck this, imagining it being your cock, yeah?”

He so focused on her hips that her voice was only background noise for him. His complete upper jaw gnawing down on his bottom lip as he worked on stroking his cock hard and fast, quick and tight, fingers beginning to shake as his eyes squeezed shut. Her whines and her whimpers encouraging his orgasm and enticing it to spurt up his chest, beckoning it to escape and mix with his first.

He tried to hold himself off for a little while longer; it’s his second orgasm of the night and he wanted to milk the pleasure for as long as he possibly could. Wanted to feel every inch of it coursing his body. But, with each pump of his hand going up and down his girth and with each swipe of his thumb over the, deep shade of raspberry, head of his cock, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold himself and to contain his hips from bucking up into his fist. Watching his girlfriend squirming and whining and whimpering as she ground her hips down and round on the peach-coloured dildo, that was lucky enough to be feeding her the pleasure he should have been giving to her, and whilst picturing her pretty lips, now swollen and bright red from how she’d continuously bitten and nibbled to contain her squeals, wrapped around him, it was overbearing for him. Overwhelming, if you will, as his moans caught in his throat and his grunts rumbled through his chest.

He groaned with deep guttural passion, almost like a yelp that bounced off the walls and echoed around the quiet room, his mouth dropping open as he rolled his head back against the ball of his neck. The tips of his hair tickling at the space between his shoulder-blades, the top of his head bumping against the soft headboard behind him as he tugged his cock, flicking his finger beneath the ridge at the underside of his tip, gargling out a string of profanities as he shot an almost empty load across his thigh.

Her voice so broken as she spoke through her orgasm; “fuck, m’squirtin’, Harry.”

He watched as she bobbed up and down, grasping her left breast and squeezing the soft flesh as splashes of her release escape from between her thighs, coating the base of the dildo mount with droplets he could only wish he was there to taste. To lick clean. The desire assisting his orgasm as more cream coated the fuzz of his inner thigh.

“Remember when you fucked my throat?” She says with a crack in her words, “had me gagging around you because you were so thick and heavy? Touching the back of my throat and you had my eyes watering? S’exactly what my eyes are doing right now, Harry. You remember how that looked? Remember how you had my eyes leaking? How I was close to crying with so much pleasure? I bet you do. I bet you think about that so much. Pretty sure my throat needs that again soon. I’ve been practicing.”

Deepthroating her was a spur of the moment thing.

What started off as a sweet blowjob after a warm shower, with gentle kisses being pressed against his thighs and her tongue being so soft with his flaccid cock and her hands cupping his backside so delicately, had soon turned into something much more. When he was erect and hard in the palm of her hand. When he was leaking pre-cum and she was slicking up the dry skin with the natural lube he excreted. Her nails digging into the fleshy mounds of his bum (which, he was sure would draw blood to the surface - not that anyone would see) and her teeth dragged up and down the thin flesh and bumped over the tingling veins pulsing with blood, that covered his throbbing muscle, with each rough thrust he gave her mouth. Gurgling around him as she tried to whine and whimper and moan out to tell him how she wanted him to keep going, gagging and dribbling down her chin and onto her coffee-coloured thighs from how he broke the boundaries of her throat, his fingers raking through her hair as he pulled fistfuls to guide her up and down his cock.

He remembered how she couldn’t speak for days beyond that. How she smacked his arm, kicked him up the bum and wanted to yell at him, but couldn’t. How she had meetings with important sponsors and how she had trouble with speaking in a hushed tone because people were struggling to hear her. She blamed it on the start of a cold and, despite how terrible she was as a liar, was rather pleased when they brought it.

“I wish you were here, baby. Fuck,” she whimpers, the heels of her hands resting on the front arch of the large toy, his hips stopping the motion of going up and down as she rotated them around in circles. Fighting the rotation of the toy as it sunk deep into her. “Do you wish you were here, too? Watching me squirt like this? Helping me through my orgasms? I wish you were here to fuck me, Harry. Wish you were here to finish me off with your cock.”

And, oh gosh, how he wished he was there, too.

It didn’t feel right to be so far away from her, wanking over her and thinking of her as he jerked himself off in each country they visited, and he wasn’t so sure he could last another month and a little bit longer without asking her to fly out to whatever city in America One Direction were next going to be in.

Her job was flexible and she could take her work anywhere in the world; that was one of the many perks to being a lifestyle, freelance blogger. A laptop in her bag, passport in her hand and a camera around her neck with cities all around that were full of picture-perfect moments that were momentarily opportune. So, surely, she wouldn’t mind swapping the four walls of her office back home to working from all over the world, right?

“Wish I was there, too,” he muttered, giving his cock one final tug before he let it spring back against his stomach, “so bad.”

He took his come down as a brief break. Letting his fingers relax as they had started to feel stiff, letting his cock feel a little cooler and to make sure he wasn’t overworking himself as he let it droop to one side, resting against the curve of his upper thigh and in a pool of his own spunk.

“Fuck, m’squirtin’, Harry. For you. You know what I’m thinking about?”

He smiled tiredly and watched her as she sunk down, knees pushing into the carpet as she let her orgasm loose, little splashes being heard as he watched her, cheek resting against his shoulder.

“I’m thinking about you pounding into me, baby. Spanking me and telling me how good I am and telling me how amazing I feel. Clenching around your cock, squeezing you and edging you closer, and squirting for you as you fuck me deep. All over your stomach. All over you. Feels good when I make myself squirt, you know? Want to show you so badly.”

He whimpered and it was such a cartoon whimper that rolled from his tongue that, usually wouldn’t have embarrassed him because it wasn’t forced and came from an act that enticed it from deep within him, made his cheeks heat up.

He had this habit, that he wasn’t sure how it started, of banging his hands down on the mattress when he pushed up after being stretched out down the spread of the bed. Whether it was after a full nights sleep and it was time to get up or after a nap that he’d taken with YN after a busy morning or after they’d spent a few hours on the bed being amorous with their sexual activities. Because it annoyed her and he loved to annoy her and it had simply become a habit he would do when he was on his own. Using his trembling arms to push himself up from the bed and onto his knees. The pillow that he hadn’t slept on, which still held the strong aroma of hotel washing detergent and was still crisp white and had a fresh pillowcase and was untouched and wrinkle-free, was grasped tightly in his hand. His knuckles turning white after he lunged forward and grabbed it, leaving an empty space at the headboard. His erect and tingling and leaking cock swinging as he moved, his laptop pushed to the side in a haste to find a new position, his bare heels pushed into the pillowy flesh of his bum cheeks. Green eyes staying focused on the screen as he watched her grind against the arched base of the sex-toy between her thighs. Her back arching, her nipples pebbling as a hand disappeared behind her frame, her other clinging to front to keep her as stable as she could possibly make herself.

She’d spoken about pillow humping before... and it definitely wasn’t something that would slip his mind with ease. Whether it was during their late night chats when the time ticked passed midnight and the both of them were struggling to sleep, whether it was when they were discussing ways they managed to get themselves off when they were alone, or whether it was overhead when she was talking to a female friend during a stay-at-home brunch in the kitchen. It wasn’t a foreign topic of conversation and he was all for trying new things - he’d gone as far as having his girlfriend give him a rimjob, for goodness sake, so there were no boundaries he was terrified of crossing.

He folded it over as quick as he could - well, actually, it was more wrapped around his cock than it was folded before his quivering frame - and, despite being untouched, it was warm and, if he could let his hazy imagination wander a little further than her lips wrapped around him, he could really imagine her warm cunt clenching around him. All slick and warm and deep, homing him perfectly and stretching to accommodate the thick girth he packed between his thighs, and being enough to milk his balls dry. He didn’t need a hand fondling his balls or a finger pushed into his behind. Needing the sounds and the touch and the smell to drive him over the edge. He grabbed either side of the pillow, keeping it in a tight fold, as he gave his all into thrusting between the gap, feeling his bum clench with each forward thrust, his body almost toppling to the mattress with each retracted thrust, and his eyes were watering. His bottom lip situated between his teeth, chewing hard on the flesh and nearing the point of drawing blood, making it red raw and dribbling down his chin.

Because, oh god, did it feel good.

It was better than his hand; far much better. It had the creases, it had the depth that her warm cunt had to offer every single time, it had the metaphorical entrance that he found pleasure sinking into and it had the warmth that he could imagine wasn’t just a folded pillow. Where he could imagine it was really her. It was an action that he didn’t mind drooling over and that he didn’t mind making a mess of, an action that he definitely wouldn’t rule out in the future, and an action that he would have to tell her all about, just to tell her she was right. That it felt brilliant. That it sent him spiralling towards a place where he felt he was flying. Not necessarily cloud nine but... something even better than that.

His knees were starting to ache from holding up his weight, his stomach was clenching and coiling with white-hot pleasure as he kept pushing his hips losing all rhythm but driving deeper into the groove that the pillow offered him, his head swimming, his knuckles turning white and his fingers feeling like they were stiff when he tried to give them a wiggle, and he was beginning to feel like jelly because he was on the brink of a third orgasm - the most orgasms he’d ever given himself in one night - all whilst his girlfriend was edging towards her second.

In hindsight, he felt guilty for what he was doing. This wasn’t his property, it wasn’t his room, it wasn’t his bed to get messy and the pillow wasn’t his - it all belonged to a hotel, a room, that many people would use after he signed himself out and handed over his key. It was a pillow that people would use, that they would rest their heads upon, without knowing the high levels of deep lust it had helped him feel. And, despite not wanting it to end, he threw it to the floor. The least he could do was salvage what was left of the inanimate piece of furniture.

His stomach ached as he jerked himself through his third orgasm, the third of god knows how many, just as his girlfriend announced she was cumming hard. His hand feeling clammy around his length as he tugged up and down, up and down, up and down, adding in a spark of pleasure as he squeezed his girth and stroked the sensitive, mushroom-shaped head with the pad of his thumb. Her squeals sending him over the edge as he spurted thick, white strings of release up his chest, painting his sticky and shimmering, with sweat, skin. Smearing his release over each and every section of exposed skin he could.

He fell back against the bed, his head missing his pillow by mere centimetres as he choked and swallowed saliva down his dry throat, releasing his cock and spreading out, like a starfish against a rock, upon the mattress. Feet hanging off the end of the bed as his fingers twitched. YN’s cries of relief echoing around the room as they filtered from the speakers at either side of his laptop and he wasn’t so sure he could last another go. Three orgasms was good enough for him.

“... this is driving my clit crazy, Harry. And, as much as I love it when you use your fingers and rub them against me, when you flick me with your tongue or suck on me, this feels so much better,” she hums, his eyes straining as he peered over his shoulder to watch her, “it’s up there on things that drive me crazy. Love your fingers though. Make me feel so good in so many ways. They’re so soft and gentle, delicate and feathery, touching me so lightly and it’s like they know exactly what to do. They know where to go. They know just how to make me feel nice.”

This go around, as he watched her unravel on the sybian, he skipped out on a potential fourth. He could have gone for it but a staggered orgasm, that he would class at number four, could come in the morning when he could keep his eyes open. When he wasn’t feeling sore. When his cock had had a break and had regained all feeling from tip to base. He had new material to watch, to think about and to help his imagination delve further into the darker depths of his mind now that he had stumbled upon what she had so sweetly given to him... that he was thankful she had given to him... that he would, as corny as it sounded, keep safe and look after and would only use it when he was in dire need of a little help. When amateur porn just wasn’t satisfying enough.

“... I think s’all I can take. 3 orgasms is good enough for you, right? I feel great. I’m going to go and take a warm bath, relax a little and wait for you to come home so you don’t smell sex on me,” she giggles, dismounting the sex-toy and walking over towards the camera on shaking legs. He could see her glistening thighs struggling to close from how long she’d been in her position, the upper muscles trembling under her skin, “drunk you always seems to know when I’ve been naughty with myself and I can’t be giving myself away. If you’re curious as to where I’m putting this, it’s back in the box and in the wardrobe under your shirts. Means I can grab one when I chose to have some fun,” she grins into the lens as she picks the camera up with her hands, holding it at arm’s length as she twirls on her bare feet and collapses - well, more like lets her legs give out from underneath her weight - upon their bed. Head nudging between the two plump pillows as she hid her face into his. A tired smile on her face. “That’s all I can do. My legs ache and I’ve still got to put it all away and get myself freshened up. I’ll see you really soon, mister. Really soon. Enjoy the rest of the tour. It’s your last one with the boys, for a long time, so make the most of it. I’ll see you at home in a short few weeks. 6 nights at London’s O2? That’s going to be so cool! I love you huge amounts.”

Sure, he missed home... but he was missing it a little less now.

#IT'S FINALLY HERE #harry styles imagines #harry imagines #harry blurbs #harry styles blurbs #harry styles one shots #harry one shots #harry concepts #harry styles concepts #hs #harry #harry styles #one direction preferences #one direction imagines #1d #one direction blurbs #one direction one shots

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obstinaterixatrix · 6 years ago

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2018 Fic Retrospective

it’s that time of year again! the end of it. all in all it’s been about 15 fics and about 40k, so like? that’s a pretty decent amount I think.

1/25

The Intricate Art of the Spite Selfie (or, Say What You Mean), Voltron, 3.5k words

The first selfie Lance takes with Keith, the first selfie Keith takes with Lance, and a few of Lance's many, many selfies that follow.

this was posted on my 9 year anniversary of the first time I posted fic, but it was actually written a solid while before? and scenes were drafted even longer before that? technically an old fic but w/e

3/28

Page Turner, or, Why Shoujo Manga isn't a Valid Point of Reference, Persona 5, 12k words

Yusuke comes to Makoto for love advice. Futaba intervenes.

this was technically started in 2017, but finished in 2018 so it’s for the 2018 retrospective. it’s also like. the crown jewel of fics this year In My Humble Opinion. I’m so happy with this fic, it’s pure self-indulgence. my extensive experience with shoujo manga finally came in handy. I also get like. really irked when an f/f ship is tagged and it’s like... .001% of the fic so I wanted both my Big Persona Ships but I. Needed to focus on mako/haru. they deserve it.

4/7

follow the warmth of the sun, Persona 5, 2k words

Ryuji asks Haru for advice, then offers some of his own.

companion to page turner... still feel :/ abt the title but I honestly truly couldn’t think of anything else.

writing haru’s always really hard but something that’s nice and canon is how soft everyone is around her. also liz pointed out that page turner and this one basically start out the same and I. didn’t realize. I didn’t notice at all. I was tunnel vision on characterization I didn’t think about parallels at all,

4/13

ask a question, get an answer, Persona 5, 1k words

Hindsight is 20/20, but Ryuji feels pretty effin' dense for missing this.

I love foxskull. originally this fic was planned to be like. three times longer but then I realized I could condense it into a one scene oneshot. who cares about setup... foxskull time

4/21

shoot the messenger (at your peril), Persona 5, 2k words

Yusuke refuses to let Ryuji play the martyr.

[Rewrite of Ryuji's 8th rank]

okay I said page turner was the crown jewel of fic but this is also the crown jewel of fic because it’s really good alright it’s fantastic. sister helped me make the text segment because this was when my laptop died but such a trifiling obstacle can’t hope to get in the way of my foxskull agenda (this is hubris do not take it to heart). seriously though I’m a fan of my own vibe. slow-burning fury rooted in genuine concern... thats my brand and I am catering to my own tastes

4/26

at your side, as your side, Kamen Rider W, 700 words

Philip apologizes. At least, he tries to.

you’re welcome jem

5/10

Live and Learn, Steven Universe, 700 words

A conversation about mistakes.

lapidot lol. I love writing peridot... she’s such a disaster dumbass but a genuinely good and kind character trying to learn from her past mistakes... also lapis’ song killed me... I... wamt to see how their reunion goes...

5/15

Inertia, Persona 4, 700 words

It's not an ending, just a change.

I’m adding this in the retrospective even though the majority of this was written like. four years ago. technically I also ‘finished’ vector sum and the dr fics but like. I’m not. including those. they’re so old,

6/17

it’s not nostalgia if there’s nothing to miss, Persona 5, 1.7k words

Ryuji and Yusuke talk about the kind of shenanigans they got into as kids: eating paint and flaming dodgeball.

legit the only time air was like ‘you could add conflict’ and I was like. no.

I really liked writing dumb kid shenanigans... one of my friends once said how her sister tricked her into thinking color was a recent invention and that photos were black and white because colors hadn’t been dug up yet. while drafting I kind of kept that in as a placeholder for yusuke’s dumb kid thing, but thankfully I hit on the idea of. eating watercolors for art. what a yusuke thing to do. also I’ve said this before but flaming dodge ball was literally something that a friend did when they were a kid and I’m honestly kind of sad I never got to do something so ridiculously dumb and dangerous. is it really childhood without the threat of self-inflicted immolation?

7/28

the shortest distance between two points, Voltron, 7k words

Just when Keith thought he had his relationship with Lance all figured out, finally, Lance marches in and not-so casually declares his undying love.

(Or, his extremely small barely-there crush, but knowing Lance, same difference)

despite all my various feelings about voltron the show now that it’s over. I have to say. my voltron content is good content. You Can’t Change My Mind.

keith’s always a little harder to write than lance, but I really like... writing lance from an outside perspective. ‘this makes total sense,’ lance thinks, digging his own grave. ‘what the hell is he doing,’ everyone else thinks, as they get a front row seat to lance digging his own grave. also also I really like writing miscommunications that are like. fun.

9/18

accounting for taste, or, the unfortunate specter of middle school sensibilities, Persona 5, 1.5k words

Ryuji gives Yusuke an old necklace neither of them like.

99% of the foxskull I write is directly appealing to my own sensibilities and basking in my egregious self-indulgence because otherwise I’d be dying in the desert. this fic... is good.

10/1

star-crossed ain't the right word for it, Persona 5, 1k words

A handful of texts between Ann and Shiho.

this was a little tough to figure out at first— air def helped w the trajectory of the third chapter. but... I’ve always wanted to write more fun shenanigans with these two... and I’ve had the last chapter planned since the very beginning... I love ann/shiho...

11/11

Forward Momentum, Kamen Rider Drive, 2k words

After Chase comes back, Gou takes him to an amusement park. Then a movie. Then a cafe.

while watching the series I was like... ooo chase/gou has potential but the only thing that’s really selling me is the death scene so there’s not much I can do here... then... I listened to the drama cd... yall the drama cd... I’ve Been Pandered To... I really like writing Chase’s awkward perspective, also, I really like Chase.

11/16

coda, The Adventure Zone, 700 words

Sloane and Hurley rally people for the final battle.

(epilogue for Fortune's Wheel, Reversed)

this was a draft for a pretty long while but I really did need to give them something that reflected their current canon end. I like tragic romance but I like it *more* when it actually ends happily thanks griffin.

12/27

variety, spice, and however that saying goes, Persona 5, 4k

Rewrite of 6/11-6/12; instead of staying at Leblanc, Yusuke stays at Ryuji’s place.

a while ago jack was talking abt his headcanons for ex-sukeban mom sakamoto and ever since then I’ve been like... wow I want to write that. I think this actually has some of the best yusuke I’ve ever written just because I had to spend a paragraph describing a wine glass. also I have to admit, when I thought up the symbolism thing, I was very much. Oh I Am So Genius.

#fic retrospective #my writing #long post

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buzzdixonwriter · 6 years ago

Text

Stan Lee [1922 – 2018]

Stan the Man.

. . .

I tell people that after four guys with Liverpudlian accents, the greatest influencers of pop culture in America in the 1960s were four editors.

A lot of us looked on them as uncles -- and an aunt -- who served as inspirations / role models / guideposts / influencers during our lives, especially our impressionable preteen through early adult years.

Uncle Hugh was the worldly bon vivant: Suave, sophisticated, erudite, hip. He showed us what it meant to be a grown up even if our parents disapproved of his lifestyle.

Aunt Helen was kind of Uncle Hugh’s female opposite number, trash talked a bit because she was a female and “women just shouldn’t behave that way” but y’know what, every family needs an eccentric-bordering-crazy aunt and she was America’s.

Especially for tens of millions of young women and girls to whom she demonstrated there wasn’t just one lifepath stretching before them but thousands.

Uncle Forry showed us it was okay to be obsessive and geeky about weird interests and, contrary to our parents’ advice, to seek community with others who shared those interests. Okay, so maybe there was something a little odd, a little off about him, but he showed us how the magic was made, and thus steered thousands of us into creative careers.

And Uncle Stan? Uncle Stan was the avuncular raconteur, the enthusiastic cheerleader crackling with energy, the slick yet charming salesman so good at his job it never seemed like he was selling anything even when he was most blatant about it. He got us excited about what he was selling, and unlike our other uncles and aunt, he would drop by once a week with some new adventures to share with us.

He was our storyteller, our mythmaker, and in a very real sense, our prophet.

I’ll leave it for you to decide if he was a false one or not.

. . .

Luck matters.

Talent is tremendous, perseverance a plus, and skill a must, but it’s better to be lucky than good.

Stan Lee was born Stanley Martin Lieber in 1922, the son of a working class immigrant New York couple. He grew up in a manner very typical for New Yorkers and Americans of that era, struggling through the Great Depression, catching odd jobs where he could find them, finally landing a gig as a nepotist at a company owned by the husband of a cousin.

That cousin’s husband was Martin Goodman, and the company was Marvel (nee Timely) Comics.

If it had been a dress making factory we would have never heard of him.

. . .

Decades later, The Cannon Group -- that slapdash conglomeration of ruthless ambition and genuine love of cinema held together by the thinnest threads of artistic ability -- released their version of Captain America and erroneously attributed the character as “created by Stan Lee”.

To his honor, Stan was embarrassed by this gaffe and when asked would be quick to cite Jack Kirby and Joe Simon as the actual creators.

Stan entered the then nascent Marvel Universe early in 1941 with issue three of the Captain America comic book, penning a two page text story: Captain America Foils The Traitor's Revenge

And credit where credit is due: From the very beginning of his creative association with Marvel, he was adding innovative ideas (in this case, the first instance of Cappy using his shield as a frisbee to attack bad guys).

But that was far from the most important thing young Stanley Lieber created in that story.

The bigger, more important, far more influential invention?

Stan Lee

. . .

Take a moment to understand how important writers were in American culture between the two world wars.

Hemingway kicked over the anthill.

F. Scott Fitzgerald and Sinclair Lewis probed deep down through the upper crust into the American psyche, John Steinbeck and Upton Sinclair did the same in the opposite direction with their stories of working class people.

Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler looked at the underbelly of American cities while William Faulkner dug deep in the old south.

Anita Loos and Dorothy Parker and Robert Benchley and James Thurber and even irascible Alexander Woollcott brought sunshine and laughter.

These people were not just celebrities, they were looked upon as key influencers and trend setters, seeing where the culture was going and commenting on it, illuminating the way forward for the rest of us.

And that’s not counting the hundreds of other authors who wrote popular books and magazines, who filled the best seller lists with novels that became hit movies.

The American people read and they read a lot. Every week The Saturday Evening Post would deliver a half dozen top flight stories and articles to your home. Liberty and Collier’s and McCall’s and The Ladies’ Home Journal and Redbook would also bring dozens of well written stories to you, and that’s not counting the vast pulp market or publications like Reader’s Digest and The Saturday Review and The New Yorker which offered literary criticism not for a high brow elite coastal urban audience but for Americans all across the country.

We read more, and thanks to pre-TV radio we listened more, not sitting passively as images washed over us.

Being a writer was a big deal back in those days, even if it wasn’t the most reputable of professions.

My father wanted to be a writer, but after the Korean War he put that aside and started working in a dress factory.

You’ve never heard of him.

. . .

Like many young people between the two world wars, Stanley Martin Lieber harbored literary ambitions.

He’d written for his school newspaper, did some small scale copywriting for neighborhood advertisers, and briefly worked with the W.P.A. Theater Project as well as a couple of other entry level jobs typical then and now for teens after school or on weekends.

His initial employment at Timely Comics was pure schlub work: Sharpen the pencils, refill the ink wells, erase the pencil lines once the inkers were done.

I can easily imagine him pestering Joe Simon, co-creator and editor of Captain America, until Simon finally said, “Sure, kid, write a two page story for me” just to get him out of his hair.

(Sidebar: Back in the early days of comics, there was some question whether they qualified for the cheaper second class periodical mailing rates. The formula of two text pages per comic took root as the minimum number needed for a publication to get that postal designation, so that’s why there are literally tens of thousands of crappy short-short stories in old comic books; they just had to be text, they didn’t have to be good.)

When Stanley Martin Lieber turned in Captain America Foils The Traitor's Revenge, he didn’t put his name on it.

He was saving that for his big / important / serious work.

Rather, he put his pen name on it: “Stan Lee”

. . .

In all fairness, young Stanley Martin Lieber proved a fast study.

Within a year he was writing then creating back-up features for the various comic titles Timely published.

When the powerhouse creative team of Joe Simon and Jack Kirby left Timely towards the end of 1941, Martin Goodman installed Stanley Martin Lieber as the company’s new editor.

He was 19 at the time.

Now, while that is a laudable accomplishment, it’s also not as impressive as it sounds.

Low rent entertainment companies operate like assembly line factories: The creative talent throws their work into the hopper at one end, the distributor hauls the finished product out at the other.

If the basic structure is sound, it doesn’t need a lot of attention to function smoothly.

Proof of this is that almost no sooner had Stanley Martin Lieber been promoted to editor than he was drafted, and from early 1942 to mid-1945, while he was in uniform, Timely Comics chugged along quite nicely in his absence.

At the end of the war and his military service, Stanley Martin Lieber made a fateful decision: He went back to work for his cousin’s husband.

. . .

To understand much of Stan’s career and later years, you have to look at his mid-1940s mind set.

Stan had never really worked for a living.

As noted, all his earlier jobs had been teenage entry level work.

While he was happy to have the income and helped with his family’s finances, he never had to support himself, much less a family of his own.

Compare this to Simon and Kirby, who had hit the streets and hit ‘em hard during the Depression, scrambling for every odd job they could find, building their portfolio and reputation while supporting themselves.

There sat in the hearts and minds of the freelance writers and artists he employed a certain tough confidence that Stan never enjoyed.

His freelancers and co-workers who, like Simon and Kirby, would and could take principled stands were forever citizens of another country, another land that Stan could only gaze upon wistfully but never enter himself.

Draw your own Moses parallel.

. . .

If returning to Martin Goodman’s employ was a fateful decision for Stan, it was certainly a financially sound one.

Like many vets, he married soon after the war ended, in this case to Joan Clayton Boocock, a British hat model working in New York.

Of the many improbable things in Stan’s life, few are as improbable as this odd romance. The couple enjoyed a very happy and long, long life together.

Seventy years married.

We should all be so lucky

But the blessing of this marriage was clouded by Stan’s anxiety over providing for his family.

He worked hard to support his wife and daughter.

But he never had the courage or confidence to look elsewhere.

When he married Joan, for all intents and purposes Stan married Marvel as well.

. . .

While comics publishing in general and superheroes in particular did well during World War Two, the market changed drastically afterwards.

Superheroes faded fast, replaced by true crime and horror comics.

Even super patriot Captain America went the horror root with the last two issues of his book being retitled Captain America's Weird Tales before being retired in 1949.

The true crime and horror craze was soon scuttled due to Dr. Frederic Wertham and the subsequent Comics Code.

Timely renamed itself Atlas, and for the 1950s Stan busied himself on a variety of titles: Westerns, funny animals, teen, nurse (yes, there was a market for nurse comics), romance, teen nurse romance, and monster (a highly sanitized kid friendly version of the now banned horror comics).

He also got to know and work with an astonishing array of freelance talent: Jack Kirby (now bouncing from project to project), Steve Ditko, John Romita Sr., Marie Severin, Gil Kane, and Wally Wood among others.

He enhanced his income with an odd assortment of side projects, including a comic strip based on a radio show and a pamphlet on how to write comic books.

Stan joked that he was just Goodman’s interim editor, that he would leave Timely-now-Atlas the moment a better gig showed up.

Stan didn’t look for a better gig.

The better gig came looking for him.

. . .

There are numerous versions of how Marvel Comics came about.

They all start with the Justice League over at DC.

As noted, after World War Two superhero comics faded and faded fast.

All the superhero titles vanished except for Action Comics (featuring Superman), Detective Comics (featuring Batman and Robin), and the occasional Wonder Woman cover story published by DC.

And the reason those three titles stayed in print was that if DC failed to publish them, they would either lose the license (in the case of Wonder Woman) or open themselves to the possibility of their creators reclaiming them.

And greedy scum that they are -- hey, these are comic books we’re talking about, a.k.a. the sleaziest industry on earth -- DC wasn’t about to let those properties go.

Despite efforts by other companies to relaunch superheroes (including a failed attempt by Stan and Atlas with Captain America in 1954), the kids just weren’t buying.

But in 1959 DC comics reintroduced Aquaman and Green Lantern, added their revamped but lackluster Flash, plucked the Martian Manhunter from the sci-fi bin, and added them to their big three (or 3.5 if you count Robin) as the Justice League of America in a one shot story.

To their delight, they captured lightning in a bottle (or at least on the pages of a badly printed comic).

Now, there are three primary variants in the Marvel rebirth story.

The first is that while Martin Goodman was golfing with Jack Liebowitz of DC, Liebowitz couldn’t help bragging on the Justice League’s success and Goodman went back to the office and told Stan to come up with something similar.

The second is that Stan had noticed the success of Justice League and suggested it to Goodman when they were brainstorming ideas for Atlas.

The third is that Goodman was on the verge of shutting Atlas down, the offices were already being packed up, Stan was in a dither, and Jack Kirby told him to relax, they’d figure out a way of staying in business before Goodman lowered the boom for good.

What really happened?

Who knows…

Kirby’s version certainly sounds more in character for the men involved, but the paper trail points somewhere between the Goodman and Stan versions.

Maybe (probably?) some combination of all three, with each participant remembering only the part that seemed most important to them.

Whatever the true impetus, a decade and a half writing, drawing, and editing romance / soap opera and goofy monster comics served Stan and Kirby well.

The unique gestalt of The Fantastic Four flew right in the face of DC’s “super friends” approach: This was a team of superheroes who had their own personal problems, who didn’t like each other all that much, and who had to spend as much time fighting their own personal discord as they did the supervillains that threatened them.

DC caught lightning in a bottle.

Marvel (formerly Atlas, and before that Timely) caught…a spark.

The popular history (and we’ll get into how that was shaped in a moment) is that The Fantastic Four and all the other Marvel titles were huge hits from the git-go, steam rolling over all opposition to dominate the industry.

Ehhh…not quite.

Insofar as they sold well and kept the doors open and attracted a good audience response and an appreciable amount of ancillary merchandising, yeah, that they did.

But DC outsold Marvel for most of the decade, including the roll out years when all their big characters / teams / franchises were introduced.

There’s a phrase I use: The jazz musician’s jazz musician.

I use it not to just specifically reference jazz but to point out the innovators who are doing highly influential cutting edge stuff that mainstream audiences just don’t get.

Those in the know -- other jazz musicians, or in the case of Marvel, other artists and writers and editors -- grasp what’s happening immediately, but it isn’t until they begin reinterpreting it and filtering it through more audience familiar styles that the innovators’ true impact is felt.

And then, if they’re lucky, the innovators finally come into their own much later as the mainstream catches up to where they once were decades earlier.

Marvel didn’t exactly struggle, but they had to work hard to remain competitive during the 1960s -- and there was a lot of competition out there.

But the pay off came in the mid-1970s, when the young fans (and we’ll get to them, too) grew up and started entering the business.

I state this without equivocation: All American comics from 1975 to the start of the manga boom in 2000 -- every single one of ‘em -- were direct or indirect responses to what Marvel had been doing from 1961 to 1967.

What part did Stan play in all this?

. . .

There are almost as many ways to create a comic book as there are comic book creators, but the two chief styles are DC full scripts and Marvel outlines.

At DC, writers handed in scripts broken down panel by panel, dialog included; the artist followed the script as closely as possible and made no major changes without editorial permission.

At Marvel, Stan would discuss a story idea with a writer or sometimes directly with the artist. At most this would result in a short outline (three pages max for a full length comic) that laid out the basic idea of the story, described the characters and conflict, and gave some idea how things should wrap up. The artist then broke down and laid out the story by themselves; the editor would either add dialog themselves or send a Xerox copy to the writer for them to come up with dialog.

If you have a proficient hard working art crew, the Marvel method lets you produce a lot of comics very fast, and relatively cheaper since the editor and artist can knock out a story idea over coffee, thus sidestepping the writer for at least the first half of the process.

Stan and his artists had been working this way for a decade and a half.

They knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, how to play into the former and avoid the latter.

Any competent bullpen can produce comics this way.

The Marvel bullpen had a lot of good, talented artists.

But it also had

J*A*C*K FREAKIN’ K*I*R*B*Y

The most interesting, the most innovative work in any art form gets done around the edges where the gatekeepers are loath to visit.

“Yeah, sure, whatever, knock yourself out, just have it done by Thursday…”

Low budget filmmakers, late night TV, garage bands, cruddy comedy clubs, fanzines, these are venues where the cutting edge bleeds, where most of the stuff is crap because nobody cares but because somebody cares part of it is dynamite.

Jack Kirby cared, and cared a lot about comics.

So did Steve Ditko.

So did Jim Steranko.

Stan was smart enough to see that and get out of the way.

. . .

So what part of Marvel’s success can be attributed to Stan?

Based on what I’ve seen, what I’ve heard, and what I know, I’d say anywhere from as little as 20% to as much as 33 1/3% of any specific title reflects Stan’s input.

Stan was no dummy, Stan had talent, Stan had skill, Stan had good ideas.

But Stan also had little time and even less help.

He’d throw the idea at the artists and the artists would throw their execution back.

Stan, to varying degrees, would refine the story in the dialog stage so that it fit in consistently with the rest of the titles they were publishing.

But the success of Marvel as an entity?

That’s 80% Stan’s doing.

. . .

I said Kirby and Ditko and Steranko loved comics.

Stan did, too, but he loved Stan even more.

He’d spent half his life laboring in relative anonymity.

His dreams of a serious literary career had come to naught.

His resume’ consisted solely of working for his cousin’s husband’s middling successful comic book company.

He lacked the courage and confidence that the artists in his bullpen possessed, courage and confidence they’d acquired by knocking on doors and chasing after jobs.

In 1961 he stood on the edge of middle age, with nothing significant to show for himself.

And while The Fantastic Four and Thor and The Incredible Hulk and Spider-Man may not have equaled the successes at DC, they sure were more than anything he’d experienced before.

And by promoting them, he also promoted himself.

The Marvel method made lengthy continuities and crossovers easier to execute than DC’s formally scripted method. His lack of time led to multi-part stories and to setting those stories not in mythical Metropolis or Gotham City in real life New York so he wouldn’t have to provide artists with references.

These lengthy continuities and crossovers, as opposed to DC’s standalone stories, got Marvel readers to pick up more and more titles, and to become more and more deeply involved in the Marvel Universe.

Stan interacted with these fans of Marvel comics (and they were enthusiastic, if not numerous). His column, Stan’s Bullpen, came out every week, whenever a new Marvel Comic hit the stands. He handed out No-Prizes to sharp eyed fans who spotted errors, getting those fans to read even more Marvel Comics.

“Face front, true believer! Excelsior!”

. . .

For all his delight in leading the fans in The Merry Marvel Marching Society, Stan didn’t lead his bullpen with the same enthusiasm.

Something transpired between him and Ditko. Ditko famously came in with the finished art for Spider-Man #38, dropped the pages on the desk of Stan’s secretary, said, “That’s that!” and walked out, never to darken Marvel’s doors again.

A few years later, as Marvel characters began booming in popularity and raking in licensing deals, Kirby approached Stan and suggested they present a unified front to Marvel’s owners to demand a slice of the pie they were generating for the company.

Stan asked for some time to mull the prospect over…

…and immediately raced to Martin Goodman and signed a long term contract stating that all the work and characters he and Kirby had created for Marvel were done under a work-for-hire contract, and that the company owed no shares or royalties to either of them.

Kirby left Marvel and, ever the jazz musician’s jazz musician, went over to DC and created new comic book series for them.

Marvel’s onerous work-for-hire contract (essentially by endorsing one’s paycheck one signed away all rights to work one had done) came under legal scrutiny, and when changes in US copyright law created the potential for the Kirby estate to sue to recover the copyright on the characters he had co-created, Marvel sued the estate to prevent them from going to court.

The Kirby estate was blocked again and again in their effort to regain their right to sue, but when the US Supreme Court agreed to hear the case Marvel capitulated rather than run the risk they might win the right to sue and might prevail.

When Stan would go on vacation, Marvel employees would tremble.

Stan hated personal confrontations, and rather than fire someone face-to-face, when he would go on vacation it would befall some other member of Marvel management to discharge the employee.

(Stan would feign ignorance when he came back, and would promise to “see what I can do” to help the discharged employee, but of course that never happened.)

. . .

Stan’s hard work promoting Marvel as a brand paid off, and by the mid-1970s he and the company were dominating comics sales.

Ancillary merchandising and marketing varied from year to year as audience interest ebbed and flowed, but Stan was always quick to make sure his name got mentioned in every press release, his cameo in every live action movie and TV show.

And to be truthful, it was hard not to like Stan.

He bubbled over with energy and enthusiasm, he tirelessly promoted Marvel (and himself), and constantly engaged with fans.

For me, one of the highlights of my professional career was to pass Stan in the hallway of Marvel Productions in the early 1980s and to have him recognize me and call me by name.

I felt I had arrived.

Stan’s daily involvement with Marvel diminished over the years, first because he moved to California to make deals for Marvel movies and TV shows (not that many at that time), later because he no longer connected with the story telling style Marvel evolved into.

He formally split off from Marvel in the late 1990s (though retaining a healthy retainer from them) and got involved in a number of questionable ventures.

Our orbits intersected again during the short lived existence of Stan Lee Media (SLM), ostensibly his effort to create a new brand of superheroes for a new century, in reality a stock manipulation scheme that saw people sentenced to lengthy prison terms and the mastermind behind it fleeing to Brazil.

Stan, it should be pointed out, was as much a victim as Merrill Lynch in all this, but it also reflects a key shortcoming in his character.

I had, thanks to the intercession of Mark Evanier, been briefly employed as Stan’s vice-president of creative affairs for SLM.

From the beginning of our employment, I and most of Stan’s other staff wondered how SLM was supposed to make money, and couldn’t follow the business strategy of Peter Paul, the former lawyer turned convicted drug smuggler who had insinuated himself in Stan’s life.

Something was rotten in the state of California, and the more one questioned the wisdom of Paul’s strategy, the more likely one was to be shown the door.

When it became apparent my neck was next on the chopping block, advice from Steve Gerber and several other former Marvel employees helped me secure a nice severance deal. The advice they gave was to approach Stan first before he had to bring the matter up, point out the fit didn’t seem to be working, and allow Stan to fall over himself in his eagerness to settle the matter without any negative confrontation. Which I did, and which he did, and we both came away happier for it.

Shortly after that, the company imploded as the stock manipulation became apparent, and Paul’s secondary scheme was revealed to use the same copyright provision Marvel and Stan fought against re the Kirby estate to lay claim to Marvel characters.

Stan moved on from there to POW! Entertainment, another effort to capitalize on Stan’s celebrity status, and while that company was legit, it did not generate the response they anticipated.

During that period, however, thousands of missing pages of Marvel artwork was discovered in a storage unit Stan rented.

The official story was that these pages had been accidentally scooped up when Stan left Marvel’s New York office, but that doesn’t pass the smell test. Those pages were supposed to be returned to the original artists; selling them as collectibles was an ancillary form of income and one that comics publishers allowed (the art having been transferred to either print film or digital files by that point).

Another thing that didn’t pass the smell test was the “lost” original outline for the first Fantastic Four story, a one and a half page document that had been displayed under glass at SLM office. The story of how it was “found” seems awfully suspect, and more than a few of us think it was a =ahem!= “recreation” typed up at a much later date.

POW! tried promoting him as a still viable, still vital creator, but anyone who had a meeting with him knew how much of his success rested on the talents of his co-creators. They tried promoting him as still current in pop culture, but he was too old and frail to sell that idea.

They actually tried circulating a “fake Stan Lee™”, an actor hired to go and do a Stan Lee impersonation at local conventions, but that idea quickly died an embarrassing death.

Eventually POW! and Stan dissolved their formal relationship, and POW! sold out to foreign investors, leaving Stan to his own devices.

The man who always feared not having somebody to work for was finally on his own.

In his latter years, Stan appeared in the news again and again, this time as an elderly man abused by at least some of his caregivers.

Stan sure could pick ‘em, huh?

That’s not the sort of publicity anyone deserves to have, much less endure. The abuse included dragging him around the country to conventions to promote…something.

Footage of him in a very disoriented state, being told how to sign his own name for autograph hounds who had just paid a hefty fee for same, outraged his fans, even those of us who recognized his complicity in his own misfortune.

. . .

Uncle Hugh did not age well. For a man so worldly and debonair, he never recognized when it was time for him to leave the party. After a while his hanging on became an embarrassment, like the old geezer trying to teach the young kids all the hot new dances such as the foxtrot and the twist.

Aunt Helen was more savvy in that respect, and she found that by stepping back a bit, she could wait for the occasional question to be directed at her, and for her answer to be taken seriously instead of with an eyeroll.

Uncle Forry was indeed a bit “off”, downright creepy in fact, and while much of his influence on others was for the good, a significant portion was not. We look back and say “we shoulda known, we shoulda known” but the truth was he validated our interests when no one else would, and for that we were willing to overlook a multitude of sins.

And Uncle Stan? He lived long enough to become a cautionary tale…

. . .

It’s impossible for me to dislike Stan.

Roz Kirby, Jack’s wife, hated him with an unholy passion, but she earned that right.

Steve Ditko clearly had an axe or three to grind, but he’s maintained his silence.

Steve Gerber had his friction points with Stan, but in the end bore him no animosity.

Another comics pro, when news broke of the discovery of the missing Marvel artwork, shook his head and said with a rueful smile, “Stan never fails to disappoint, doesn’t he?”

Stan the Man.

The man who was Marvel.

The mythmaker of modern superhero culture.

We want him to be as heroic, as noble as the heroes he wrote.

But he wasn’t.

He was all too typical of too many people.

Too anxious.

Too easily swayed.

Too eager to succeed.

Too quick to take short cuts.

He loved his wife.

He loved his daughter.

He was charming and gracious in person, and there are few meals I’ve shared that were more delightful than those SLM business lunches.

There was good in him, but not enough strength.

We want our heroes to be strong.

Stan the Man.

Stan the human.

R.I.P.

#Stan Lee #Stan Lee Media #comics #Marvel #obituary

14 notes · View notes