#i think if i had faith in my ability to write it id love to do this from like. Courtney POV. i love external povs sometimes

[shesmore-shoebill]

When i say amangela pining rpf au, and SPECIFICALLY, amanda pining rpf au, know that this is what im thinking about.

Like, with Angela as A and Amanda as B. The opposite is ALSO very good and i have no objection to it but i think theres something so delicious about. Amanda as a straightforward communicator and Angela as someone who pays very close attention to her friends and Would prioritize their feelings over hers, in this scenario.

Angela in a sort of "well this wouldn't happen anyways" state who is so in love but has learned how to manage vs Amanda absolutely getting slammed with her emotions and going "oh fuck". and like. As a big believer in being open and honest with people she cares about she is Not Going To Lie About It, holy shit!! She HAS to talk to Angela about it wtf. But she is going to lose her mind for a bit first.

anyway thats my vision. 👌

[roobylavender]

what you mention about how writers should have redemmed or concluded bruces flaws esp after his post-jason depresive episode is exactly why i cannot stand how he is with cass in their beginning. nowadays i cant attest to that because i dont know what hes like (also i dont think they interact much anymore?) not to discredit bg2003 in its writing ability but the shit he does to her sometimes make me want to tear my hair out and as a bruce stannie you would think id get used to this but idk. the same goes for that tomasi run with damian like i think he redeems himself towards the end or whatever but i dont even care. because what ends up happening is i feel as though writers dont piggyback off each other and work cohesively or take notes from where their character is at by the end of the previous writers run, and instead we just get the same character “arc” over and over again like bruce has to relearn time and time again how to, at the very least, show he gives a shit about his children. its so frustrating because i feel like after the 100th time he would learn something? its no wonder the character snowballed into the (unrecognizable. to me) character he is now

interestingly that's why i really want to read her run! i'm curious to see how that transition across the 90s sets up bruce's relationship with her and whether it plays out a similar dynamic to the one he had with tim but along more intimate and protective lines because cass actually stayed in his house, whereas tim got to go home and ultimately answer to someone else. in the grant/brefoygle run you really got a sense that bruce tried to guide tim as much as he could but there was still some distance there because he knew he wasn't tim's father. he could make these grand sweeping statements in hopes that tim would heed them but he couldn't necessarily say "go to your room!" it's why bruce's decision to reveal tim's secret identity to stephanie upset tim so much, because that boundary had been drawn since the beginning and despite the vulnerable nature of their work and relationship to each other he never felt like bruce was entitled to make that decision on his behalf

i've thankfully never read the tomasi run but i've seen that panel where bruce says something like "i love you, but i don't like you" and omds it makes my blood boil.. i refuse to take anything with damian in it seriously like it's so much bad faith writing on behalf of everyone involved and it's not worth my time!

[stargaze-issei]

Stoner Hawks being on patrol with him and maybe having a fire quirk (Dabi’s sis blue flames but you know Endevor don’t know that maybe she knows Dabi is her brother and knew that he ran away and never told her dad about it and how often she sees him but n e way she’s a hero did the whole UA thing) and being on patrol on top a building Keigo rolls a joint and moves on in readers direction like “can you spark it?🥺” maybe just smoking maybe some smut

this made me sO soft, like yes stoner hawks being the cutest 🥺 i got a little carried away with it, and somehow it ended up being 2.1k long ( ´◡‿ゝ◡`) thank u sm for requesting, i loved it.

stoner!takami with a todoroki!reader.

summary; in the request.

genre; fluff, smut.

warnings; daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, oral (receiving-giving), curse words, idk fucking(? smut in general.

word count; 2.1k

author's note; don't judge me it's my first time writing smut ):

 your phone rang in the pocket of your hero costume, the id showing a smiley keigo. despite knowing what was about to happen, you couldn't avoid your own smile. as you answered, the first thing you heard was wind on his side of the line, you sighed, he was probably calling while flying, again.

"one of this days, you're going to crash against a plane" his melodic laugh reached through the speaker. damn, how could you stay mad when he's laughing like that?

"i'm going to assume you're already at our spot, gorgeous" this time you laughed, nervously, takami hated waiting more than anything, and there you were, thirty minutes away from your meeting point. "send me your location, i'm picking you up" and just as fast, he hung up. flying with him was a better idea than running through the city by yourself, therefore, you did as he said.

a giggle escaped your mouth, he had that effect on you, despite of knowing each other for that long. it didn't matter how many times he called you pretty, gorgeous, angel, your face instantly heated up. and he loved it, it gave you a fake innocence, that he sure knew was oly a facade. in less than five minutes, his mighty figure covered the sun above you, looking like that, he could easily be confused by an angel send from heaven.

"i know i'm hot, but you're drooling a bit" takami, the endless teaser.

"let's just go" he picked you up, bridal style, gaining a few curious glares.

your relationship, if you could call it that, had always been a subject of gossip. not you nor him had either confirmed it or deny the rumors about it, truth be told, not even you knew what you were. it was more than friendship, but not as committed as an actual couple. you were used to kiss him, sleep with him, get high with him, and that was enough. there were feelings between, from both parts, but this was the best way. two heroes, in the peak of their careers, had no time for anything else. the ride to your usual vigilance spot was short, hawks flying at a dangerous speed, despite your complete trust in him, you still wondered if he could drop you.

"what took you so long?" he asked, once you were sitting in the edge of the tall building. you sighed, to keep that secret from him was exhausting, at least.

"my brother called".

an awkward silence grew, takami knew you were endeavor's oldest daughter, his pride and joy, wether you liked it or not. obviously he knew your brother had to be endeavor's lost son, touya. what you had kept to yourself was he went now by the name dabi, a faithful follower of the hero killer's ideals.

"is he okay?"

"mhm, he needed money".

keigo wasn't going to tell you this, but every time you said you brother called because he needed something, his blood boiled in his veins. ignoring the fact that he had to stay hidden, for some reason you wouldn't say, to hawks it seemed like he only reached out to you out of material need, meanwhile you were always preocuppied with his well. takami's hand found its way to yours, even wtih gloves you could feel his warmness. 

"oh, right, i-i've been saving this for us" he took a small plastic bag out of his pocket, letting you see those green herbs. by the looks, it had to be more expensive than usual. you gasped, in a really cute way, hawks thought. no words were needed, he grindered the pot before rolling a joint. his tongue appeared to seal it, looking straight into your eyes while licking it. he knew exactly what he was doing. "may you do the honors, angel face" a small blue flame igniciate in the tip of your index finger, just as he inhale for the first time.

takami, covered in a cloud of smoke, holding a blunt on his hand, adding that chilled look in his face. was certainly a sight to see.

unspokenly, he handed it over to you. with a smile on you face, you hit it for the first time. for a while, non of you talked, just enjoying each other's company, in fact, those moments with keigo were you favorite, you didn't have to worry for anything besides him. and he thought the same, there, he could stop being hawks, he could be just keigo, your long term friend, leaving all the responsabilities of being a hero in the ground. with you, he felt like flying.

by pure coincidence, he caught you looking at his profile. the moonlight made you have a different kind of glow, like a fairy, he thought. almost withouth realizing, he leaned over to you, his lips seeking yours rather desperately. his hand wondered to your hair, finding its place in the back of your neck, pulling you closer and making sure you weren't escaping. his experimented tongue made its way into your mouth, going through every place he already knew like it was the first time. he tasted like smoke. once he knew you were on the same page, he pushed you back on solid ground, laying on top of you. a moan left your lips, drowned by his own mouth, when his still dressed hips impacted against you. 

every touch was being enhanced by the effect of the pot. he pulled away, breaking the moment. he needed to look at you, your lust filled eyes, your half opened mouth. it was enough to get him hard in his pants. with a quick movement, he took out his gloves, fastly moving to take off your complicated hero costume. maybe it was because he was blown out of his mind, or he was just to eager to see your naked body, but he had a serious struggle doing it, making a soft giggle leave your throat. 

"you could help me instead of laughing at me" he whined, jokingly upset.

"and miss the hawks having troubles with a bra? i don't think so" that seemed to made him even more anxious, you knew he was done when a small "finally" was whispered.

between laughs, giggles and smirks, he got back on top of yours. he liked to feel you naked underneath him, having you to his complete disposal, and not losing a single item of his clothes. you weren't letting him enjoy the moment to much, a girl has her need, and touching his work out abs was certainly a need. you removed his shirt, smiling at his messy hair. 

he started to leave a trace of kisses from your lips to you r collarbone, licking, biting, leaving small dark marks on your skin. just at that, you became a moaning mess, there was something so dirty about takami marking your body.

"babygirl, i haven't even started" with that, you closed your eyes, giving into pleasure as his kisses got lower and lower. when he got to your breast, your nipples were already hard, expecting to feel his wet mouth any moment now. but that wasn't all that happened, almost at the same time, you felt a hand opening its way to your drenched cunt. "look at that, you're already so wet from my mouth only".

his tongue circle you nip at a killing pace, while two fingers found their way inside you without any warning. so thight, he said, his mind already thinking on how well you could take his cock. with his thumb in the perfect position, he started massaging your swollen clit. all you could do was melt in his touch. his free hand reached to the last bit of the blunt, which rested at a safe distance. he got up, leaving you kneeled in front of him.

"open your mouth, princess" despite his loving tone, he wasn't asking, so you did as you were told and watched him hit the last of the joint, keeping as much smoke as he could beofre leaning towards you. with a kiss, he shared it with you, entangling your tongues. he licked your lips, getting back up, his hand resting on the waist of his pants. "you're gonna be a good girl, aren't you, princess?" he got his hips so close to your face that your mouth watered.

"yes, daddy" you knew calling him that was a trigger. he took out his fat dick outside his pants, so hard that it was starting to hurt. his hand placed on the back of your head, guiding you to your objective. 

as soon as your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, he let out a unsually deep growl. takami never lasted that long, and being under the inffluence of weed wasn't helping. he couldn't even look down at you, the sight of your angel face, looking so fucking pretty while sucking him off, he was barely controlling himself from your noises. you struggled, gagging every once in a while, but never stopped, he loved to see the tears in your eyes. when he felt close, his dick twitch in your mouth, you tasted the precum coming out of him. before doing it, he pulled your hair back, avoiding it.

"my baby, you do it so good, do you think you deserve a reward?" to those words, you couldn't help but moan. his hand held your chin, making you look straight into his eyes.  

"please, daddy, please eat me out" he felt like losing his mind hearing you begging like that, who was him to deny it. a kiss left in your lips, before kneeling down facing your wet, juicy, cunt. thanks for the meal, he thought.

his tongue worked wonders. the second he met your needy clit, you were actually watching the stars. the ability he had, going between your folds, sucking just in the right spot, fucking you with his tongue. he had you a screaming and drooling mess in a minute.

"daddy! oh god, yes! there, keep going, please! fuck me, yes!" he loved hearing you going crazy because of him, he loved being able to do as he pleased with you. he could hear your moans forever. 

he knew you too well, instantly he could tell you were close to cum, he wasn't going to let that happen, he wanted you to cum in his dick, breaking your back, leaving you so fucked up you wouldn't be able to walk afterwards. feeling him leave you on the edge was torture. 

"are you so desperate for me, little bird?" he crawled to you, placing his hips on top of yours. you weren't even thinking when he kissed you, loving the thought of you tasting yourself. you wrapped your hands around his neck, reaching his back, if there was something he liked was you scratching his back until it bleed.

with a slow, gentle hursh, he deepend inside you, admiring the image of you closing your eyes at the pain. even prepared and lubed, he was just too big for you. as he felt you adptaing, his pace got faster and harder, his hands grabbed tightly into your hips, probably leaving bruises afterwards. in less than a minute, he already had a constant pace inside you, hitting your spot with every thurst. you whimpers and his groans mixed in the air. one of his hands travelled to your neck, applying a little pressure on it while his thumb fitted in your mouth. that was the view he wanted to see for his whole life. 

"you're such a slut, baby girl, but you're my slut, right?" you sucked his thumb, your mind couldn't form coherent words and his finger didn't let you speak. "oh yes, cum with me, princess, cum for daddy" his words were like music to your ears. 

the orgasm you repressed for a while felt so close, when you finally reached it, your walls clenched around his dick even harder than before, a scream of pleasure filling the atmosphere. not long after, you felt his warm cum exploding inside you, his grab hardened and a moan left his lips. he stayed there for a while, retaking his breath.his wings served as a wall for the cold wind running. finally, he retired from you, laying at your side while hugging you with one of his arms.

you looked at him, despite not being your actuall boyfriend, he loved you as much as you loved him. though tired, the fuzzy feeling inside you didn't stop, you wondered if it was just you being still high as a rocket, or if that's what love felt like.

[lilbabycee]

bunny // steve rogers (part one) 🐰

READ PART TWO

↳ summary: the reader finds herself in a little bit of trouble... financially. enter steve rogers. 

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x brat!reader

↳ word count: 5.6k

↳ warnings: sugar baby au, eventual dark steve, daddy kink, eventual smut, mentions of substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms + relationships, the reader is rich and a little bit of a bitch

↳ author’s note: i started writing this series ages ago but i’m thinking that maybe posting it on here will give me the inspiration to continue! please enjoy! ❤️

chapter one: you expensive you know that?

—

" you expensive, you know that?

i'm high-maintenance a little but not in a, not in a negative way

i just like extremely expensive things"

- faithful, drake

—

“But Daddy-!”

“No, absolutely not,” your father shuts you down without hesitation which immediately makes your eyes water.

“Please, I promise I won’t do it again-”

“That’s what you said the last time,” he reminds you nonchalantly and you can hear the rapid clicking of a keyboard in the background of the call. He’s not even paying full attention to you, likely still working on whatever the CEO of a multi- billion dollar corporation needs to work on.

“But I’m serious this time!” you insist, cocking a hip and tapping your acrylics loudly on the top of your marble kitchen counter. “You know what I’m like - I swear I’ll do better this time-”

“Nope,” his hard tone cuts you off as you hear his office phone ring. He sighs loudly over the receiver which makes your heart fall. “Look, honey-”

You know what’s coming and you can’t even try to stop it.

“-I’ve got another call coming in. I’m not sending you another dime until you can prove to me that you have the ability to be financially independent. I didn’t pay for all of those expensive private schools so that you could sit on your ass all day and blow my money like it’s in endless supply. You have all the necessary credentials to go and get a well-paying job, so go get one, goddammit. And please call your mother - she’s been trying to call you all day. Neither of us have any time left to entertain your little addictions nor your blatant disregard for the hard work that we’ve put in to get you where you are today.

“You’ve proven to me before that you are grossly incapable of doing even the simplest of tasks, so don’t let me down with this one,” he sighs loudly. “Sometimes, I wish you were more like my colleagues’ kids - they’re doctors and lawyers but all you are is ungrateful. I’ve really gotta take this call,” he says your name sternly which makes you tap your nails even faster. “Do as you’re told for once in your damn life.”

“Daddy-!” you borderline shriek once more before the phone clicks and he’s off attending to more important business.

You don’t even realize that you’re pouting until your lips start to tremble, nor do you realize how much his words have gotten to you until you touch your cheek gently with your fingertips and they come back wet and glistening like gold in the warm light of day.

Maybe he’s right. You’ve been living in this penthouse for the past year without having to worry about anything. You loved it when you attended the first viewing, mainly because of the huge windows, three bedrooms and bathrooms (that you definitely don’t need because you live alone), the open plan, spacious kitchen and living areas, and the fact that all of your neighbors are either famous or excessively wealthy like you. You saw the acquirement of this apartment as a prime opportunity to further climb the social ladder, not that it’s really all that hard for you considering the fact that your father is one of the richest people in not only New York but the entire country. But you’d lived in Italy for a year prior to moving back to New York and upon your return to the USA, you decided that you really wanted to re-establish a name for yourself here, of course with the help of your father. He bought the penthouse almost the moment that you said you had your eye on it, and he just kind of…left you here. He’s only come to visit a handful of times since you bought it two years ago, though your mother has been over far more frequently to your utter dismay.

You inhale deeply through your nose, your eyelash extensions fluttering dramatically against your cheekbones. Grabbing your phone - the newest iPhone that you bought after you broke your other one at your friend Peter’s party - you sulk over to one of your ridiculously overpriced couches and fall dramatically - but not dramatically enough to crease the material of your latest drunk purchase, a white Gucci jumpsuit - on top of all your throw pillows, the picture of a damsel in distress. Your freshly manicured toes - painted white yesterday - curl into the softness of it as you huff, dabbing delicately at your face again to rid yourself of any traces of sadness before thinking about what the hell you’re going to do next.

Yes, you have a savings account that is far more than enough for you and your grandchildren’s grandchildren to live lavish lives and while that’s all well and good, even you know that you probably shouldn’t spend that... but it’d have to do until you found another way to get your money. With that, you shrug noncommittally and your face ID unlocks your phone so that you can start your newest endeavor - buying one of everything off of Alexander Wang.

Sure, you should be proactive and take initiative to finally take the steps to distance yourself from your parents, but you’ve only just had your twentieth birthday. After graduating from high school at fifteen - yes, fifteen: your parents really pushed you, to say the least, and it helped that you were naturally intelligent beyond the capabilities of even the nation’s best high school teachers -  you started your undergraduate at Harvard in the fall and finished at eighteen. You took what you dubbed an ‘extended summer vacation’ - hence Italy - and now you’re at an impasse.

Okay, admittedly your various interests - you refuse to call them addictions because they’re really not that serious - that may or may not include a wide array of party drugs and alcohol probably don’t make you the most trustworthy person in the eyes of your parents. But you’ve done everything that they’ve told you to do for the past twenty years of your life - can they blame a girl for wanting to have a little fun? A smile spreads across your face as, while scrolling, you spy the blue dad jeans that were completely out of stock just last week and quickly add them to your cart with a sense of self-satisfaction before continuing to add almost everything else to your bag. It’s not like you’re heavily dependent on anything - substance abuse is not a good look for you: it was definitely more early 2000s than now - and you only do them recreationally in social situations, so your parents really have nothing to worry about. They’re overly paranoid about you somehow tarnishing their image when in reality, your work in and outside of an academic setting has really bolstered their reputation more than they could have ever hoped for - not to toot your own metaphorical horn, but your endless philanthropic work coupled with your eagerness to “make a change” and your work in fashion has put you on the Forbes 30 Under 30 every year since you were fifteen.

You press the checkout button and your Apple Pay seamlessly completes the purchase for you: $29,000. Shrugging noncommittally, you lock your phone and stare pensively at the picturesque view of New York City outside of your window; that is until Alexa alerts you that Natasha is calling you.

Perfect timing.

Natasha’s voice echoes over the loudspeakers in the ceiling. “Hey, bunny,” she greets you and you groan loudly at the nickname, restlessly hopping up to grab a glass of water from your kitchen.

“Hey Nat,” you reply, more of a whine than anything else, and she laughs loudly at your tone.

“What happened to you? “

“Daddy cut me off,” you huff, walking to the couches in front of the TV and settling down with your glass of water. With a press of a few buttons on the universal remote, you FaceTime your best friend instead - a flash of red hair and then a blindingly white smile. She assesses you on your couch and laughs again, a full-bodied cackle that only intensifies your pout.

“It’s not funny,” you protest, although the corners of your lips are quirking up in amusement at her ridiculous laughter.

“What did I tell you?” Natasha struggles to get the words out in between chuckles. “I knew he was gonna do this-”

“Yeah, so did I, but I didn’t think he’d do it this soon-!”

“I’m surprised he didn’t do it sooner,” Natasha moves around a little before propping her phone up against her knees so that you can see her sitting comfortably in her bed. She starts picking at her own black acrylics, “and you can’t deny, bunny-”

“Don’t say I deserve this,” you narrow your eyes at her, and Natasha only sends you her signature smirk.

“I wouldn’t say you deserve it, per se,” Natasha begins, “but you’ve gotta admit,” she says your name, clearly on the verge of laughter again, “I like a party as much as the next girl, but you do go a little overboard-”

“I wouldn’t say overboard,” you insist, suddenly taking up a very keen interest in your cuticles. “Here’s what it is: Mother doesn’t like the fact that I don’t like her and Daddy’s just flat out disappointed in me for no reason-”

“-apart from the fact that you very nearly got caught doing lines of blow off of Senator Pierce’s son-”

“Shhhh,” you interrupt her, closing your eyes and pressing a finger to your lips while shaking your head, unable to fight the growing grin on your face. “That was one time-”

“You mean the one time you got caught-?”

“Yes, Natasha, that’s what I mean. Anyway - you never call me like this unless you need something - thought you were gonna text me instead. What’s up? Is it Bru-”

“Oh, no,” Natasha quickly cuts you off, her cheeks flushing red. “Bruce and I have been over for a while now-”

“You were just talking about him last week-”

“Yeah, yeah,” she deflects, tapping her fingers on her thigh. “I was actually calling to see if you wanted to go shopping for Parker’s party that’s tonight-?”

“Yes, absolutely yes - why would you even have to ask-?”

“Okay, cool,” she interrupts you, smiling toothily. “Get Jarvis to get you there by 2:30 - I wanna go to the Louis store: the summer collection just dropped-”

“Sounds perfect-”

“But one more thing,” she says your name again but in a more concerned tone. You finish your glass of water and set it on the coffee table before leaning forward slightly.

“What’s going on, Nat?”

“I’m worried about you, bunny,” both her eyes and her tone have softened drastically, making you purse your lips. “What’re you gonna do now that your dad’s not giving you any more money?”

You sigh loudly through your nose, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Nat,” you admit, snapping a hair tie against the skin of your wrist rapidly. “I’ll just have to find a job - or do more sponsorships and ads and get back into modeling and maybe actually try acting this time?”

Her green eyes pin you to your couch, even through the screen, and she scrutinizes your face for almost a full thirty seconds before scrunching up her nose and nodding hesitantly. “Alright. As long as you’re sure that you can make it work… because if not, I have an option that I think you may like…”

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline as you motion for her to continue.

“Y’know how Wanda got really into that thing a couple of years ago?”

Your brain works overtime, trying to remember exactly what it was that Wanda was doing - all you remember is that it was fairly secretive and she didn’t tell you a lot about why she kept sneaking around.

“She was seeing that older guy,” you snap your fingers when you remember, Natasha’s slow nod confirming it, and then promptly frown because-

“What does this have to do with me?” You stare directly into Natasha’s eyes as she falters, obviously wondering if it’s too late to just backtrack altogether - yes, it is - and then she sighs.

“She wasn’t just seeing him,” your best friend starts slowly, choosing her words with great care, “she was his sugar baby.”

Now, this is news to you.

“You’re fucking with me,” you scoff in disbelief. “Wanda?”

Natasha keeps nodding, blowing her bubblegum between her rouge-painted lips until it pops with a sharp snap. “I’m serious, you can go ask her. But believe me, I was just as surprised as you when she first told me-”

“She didn’t tell me,” you murmur, something akin to betrayal burning your tear ducts. Natasha only barks out a laugh and clucks her tongue at you in a decidedly motherly way.

“Of course she didn’t tell you,” the redhead snorts, shaking her head. “She didn’t want you getting any ideas,” she says your name through a laugh, “you were - what - like eighteen two years ago? That would’ve been questionable at best -”

“But you guys didn’t know that I was gonna do anything-”

“Come on, bunny,” Natasha pins you with a look that shuts you up almost immediately. “Give us some credit - we’re not dumb and we know you-”

“Fine,” you drag out the last syllable of the word childishly. “So why mention it to me now?”

“Because you’re old enough… and in a situation where your Daddy’s not paying for any of your stuff anymore.”

You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Yeah, okay, but I’ve got, like, a lot of other opportunities that I don’t even need to work for,” you tell her cockily, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “Why should I take this one when I could get any other real job so easily?”

Natasha’s lips curve into that same smirk. “Because you’re a whore.”

You collapse into a fit of giggles but she’s right. Really and truly, you are - what you like to call - a self-proclaimed slut. But any woman who’s free enough in her sexuality seems to be one these days, so you own the title that’s been hurled at you like an insult for so many years. You wear it with pride... for the most part, but not too much pride because you still have parents who still - somehow - think you’re a total virgin.

(you are still a virgin but your promiscuity makes people think otherwise)

“Right,” you agree easily, tapping your nails on the arm of the couch.

“Just something for you to think about,” Natasha hums, checking the time on her watch before rubbing the sleeve of her white Balenciaga hoodie over her face “Now, leave me alone. I’ve gotta go get ready; I’ll see you in a few.”

Without any further conversation, she ends the call and leaves you laughing light-heartedly although something heavy continues to weigh on your conscience. A sugar daddy. You can’t lie to yourself and say that it’s something that you’ve never thought about before - because it most definitely is - and it’s been the shameless subject of some of your filthiest dreams. Are you going to lie and say that you don’t have an… affinity for older men? No, you aren’t. Are you gonna tell yourself that the idea of a man spoiling you doesn’t make heat burn in your core? Absolutely not. However, you’ve never thought of yourself as the submissive type. Your confidence - no, cockiness has always been a real defining trait for you and that’s always worked in your favor when it comes to romance or even sex. You take what you want, rather than waiting for it to come to you. Although, you have a feeling that an attitude like that could get you in a lot of trouble in circumstances like these.

But what’s life without a little danger?

—

You’ve put on a tight, cropped black t-shirt and on top, a brown Fendi mini dress with thin spaghetti straps that clings to your body like a second skin; your feet are clad in heeled Louboutin ankle boots. Grabbing your black Prada bag and almost comically giant black, square Burberry sunglasses, you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You only put on a little bit of blush, mascara, and tinted lipgloss, accessorizing with small golden hoops, an array of rings that have been gifted to you by either your father or your ex-boyfriends and a simple gold necklace that spells out ‘bunny’ in cursive, a gift from Natasha. Satisfied, you slide your sunglasses onto your face and head to the elevator, phone in hand.

When you reach the lobby, Jarvis is waiting for you, holding the door open with a kind smile on his face.

“Miss,” he greets you, ushering you out the door. You basically jump on him, winding your arms around his neck and he chuckles as you sway back and forth in your embrace.

“Afternoon, Jarvis,” you grin at him.

The two of you walk outside to the black Range Rover with the tinted windows - black matches your outfit today - and as you climb in the back, your security detail split up into the other SUVs in front and behind you.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Jarvis asks you conversationally, stopping at a red light not even 15 seconds after you pull away from the front of your apartment. Damn New York traffic.

“Nat and I are going to Nordstrom’s,” you tell him despite the fact that he already knows, but he nods regardless. “And then Peter Parker’s hosting a party tonight.”

“And will you be needing a ride to that event?”

“No thanks, J,” you shoot him a smile before looking back down at your phone. “I’ll probably get a ride with Natasha.”

Jarvis nods and the rest of the ride passes in comfortable silence, the radio playing softly and the clicking of your nails on your phone screen the only sounds in the car.

—

“There’s absolutely no way you’re wearing that-”

“Shut up, Nat!” you squeal, grabbing the dress off the rack. “It’s kinda cute!”

Your best friend rolls her eyes at you fondly, staring at the monstrosity that you’re clutching in your hands.

“Tell me you’re kidding,” she deadpans, searching your face almost desperately for any sign of sarcasm.

You act offended: “I’m not!”

Nat just pokes you in the sides, tugs on your earlobe, and continues her hunt, which makes you burst into loud laughter and leaves the store employees looking at the two of you  in what you’ve come to recognize as contained, professional amusement.

—

It’s about an hour before the party starts when you even start thinking about getting ready. In a Versace robe with your hair wrapped up in a towel, you’re scrolling through Instagram with a mud mask on. Nat comes into the room and shrieks at the sight of your face, making you flick your eyes up and grin as wide as the mask lets you. With her hand over her heart, she stares at you dryly while silent little chuckles shake your whole body.

“You’re in a good mood,” she remarks, eyeing you with an air of suspicion.

“Of course I am, Nat,” you look at her in disbelief. “I’m about to get wasted tonight-”

She interrupts you by calling your name out in a warning tone. Your only response is a dramatic roll of your eyes.

“We’re going so that we can have fun, not so you can go on a bender-”

“I won’t!” you drop your phone and throw your hands up in exasperation. “Holy shit, Mom - do you have no confidence in me?!”

Loud silence hangs in the air for a minute while Nat just blinks at you.

“...remember when you left me alone in Manhattan because you went to go trip on acid with Senator Coulson’s son-”

“Oh my God, Nat, okay, I get it - I’m a shitty friend and a drug addict, blah blah blah, whatever-”

“You’re not an addict,” she corrects you. “You just... really like doing drugs.”

You shrug, stretching your arms over your head, bringing them back down and then slapping your hands loudly on the bare skin of your thighs. The sound makes Nat flinch which amuses you mildly before you yawn loudly.

“Need me to help you with anything before I start getting ready?” you offer, knowing that once you start getting ready, you’re going to be in your own little world for about an hour and a half.

Natasha - who is significantly less high-maintenance than you - shakes her head. You nod, standing up and heading into her bathroom to wash the mud off your face.

“Did you think about what I told you earlier?” she asks, following you into the spacious room to lay on the chaise tucked against the wall behind you. You lock eyes with her in the mirror as she stretches herself out like a feline.

“Yeah,” you say nonchalantly. “Just for a little, but I don’t know if that kinda thing is for me.”

She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, looking down at her nails. “Oh, okay. I was just wondering ‘cause Wanda said there would be some people that she knows are into that kinda thing at Parker’s tonight-”

Oh, now your interest is peaked. You whip around, towel still in hand from drying your face, and stare her dead in the eye.

“For real?”

“Yeah, but if you’re not really interested-”

“Shut up, Natasha, you know I’m interested.” Your heart beats fast in your chest and your teeth catch on your lower lip, gnawing on it gently. Your fingers come back up to your wrist and stretch the elastic so that it bounces back against your skin. “Like… a lot of them will be there?”

She nods, regarding you with cool interest. “At least that’s what Wanda said. She’s better versed in this whole thing than I am.”

You can only bob your head up and down, suddenly nervous about attending this party. Natasha can sense it, putting a comforting hand on your arm.

“Look, bunny, it’ll be fine,” she gives you a reassuring smile. “They’ll love you. And if you change your mind, you won’t even have to interact with them in the first place; you’ll just be like any other person attending this thing. But Wanda knows a lot of them - that should be reassuring enough: she knows all about these guys, so it’s not like she’s going to introduce us to any major creeps.”

“Okay.”

—

“Okay,” you breathe out. Okay, you can do this. You’ve met presidents and prime ministers, singers and actors, kings and queens, but you’ve never been this nervous in your entire life.

Granted, none of those people were asking you to exchange sex for money, so it’s not really the same thing.

You’re wearing Dolce & Gabbana tonight - because they asked you to - and the golden silk dress that hits your mid-thigh and hugs your body so tight that it looks as if you were poured into it makes it all worth it. It shows off all of the dips and curves of your body and paired with your Alexander Vauthier clear slingback heels and a gold Vanina pearl-embellished handbag, you feel like a million dollars (even though that’s definitely not what this outfit costs). Natasha is standing next to you in a black Dolce & Gabbana corset dress - because they asked her to - and black red bottoms.

Your long red nails come up to toy with your ‘bunny’ necklace while you scan the massive crowds for a friendly face. It’s true that between the two of you, it is very much likely that you know - or know of - everybody here. But you don’t spare them a second glance despite the fact that they’re ogling you. No, you don’t linger on the bulging muscles and impressive height nor the full lips and pretty hair like you usually do. Instead, you’re looking for-

“Wanda! ” you call out, eyes falling on her reddish-brown hair flowing down her back in loose waves.

She’s standing by the bar, speaking to someone that you don’t know when she turns around, blue eyes quickly landing on you as she gives you that charming smile. Grabbing Nat’s hand, you run over to her and envelop her in a warm embrace. She squeals loudly, stumbling back as you realize that she’s probably already had a few drinks by now.

“Hi, guys,” she greets the two of you, looking up and down at your outfits approvingly. “You look hot.”

You return the compliment and pressing a kiss to her cheek, you stroke her hair while she and Nat engage in conversation. You take the opportunity to stare at all of the different groups of people who have gathered on Peter’s rooftop. There must be at least 300 people here already - the night has barely started - and you can see not a single person who looks like an old man. You furrow your brow, squinting and pushing up on your toes to see if you can see anyone that you don’t vaguely recognize from somewhere or another.

“Lookin’ for someone?”

The voice is unmistakable.

“Peter!”

He says your name in what’s only a mildly offensive mockery of your tone. You abandon Wanda and throw yourself into the arms of the boy, ruffling his already unkempt hair and also smacking a loud kiss on his cheek. He chuckles, his arm winding around your waist as he says hello to both Wanda and Nat.

Apparently you’re in a hugging mood tonight.

“I’m glad you guys could all make it,” he smiles so sweetly that you kiss him again, his cheeks turning flaming red. Peter has always been like a little brother to you although he’s actually a year older. You both went to high school and college together, and it helps that your mother and his aunt are also really good friends.

Except you don’t know how anybody could want to be friends with your demon of a mother.

“We couldn’t miss this,” Wanda gestures around her, pinching Peter on the cheek like a child which makes him frown. “Where’s MJ, Petey?”

You all “ooh” like high schoolers and Peter’s face turns somehow even redder - your heart swells - and he takes this as his cue to leave, slipping away and mumbling something about having to greet guests like a good host. It makes you all giggle, watching the boy with fond eyes.

Wanda abruptly turns to you, downing the champagne that she picks up off of the tray of one of the passing waiters.

“So Nat told me that you’re looking for a sugar daddy-”

“Shhh!” you hiss at her, clamping your hands tightly over her mouth because oh my god, Wanda, please speak louder. This makes Natasha laugh into her own glass of champagne.“Oh my god, why are you yelling?”

“Okay,” she drags it out and rolls her eyes, leaning into your group of three and whispering exaggeratedly. “So I heard you’re looking for a sugar daddy.”

“Sure, okay,” you whisper back, looking around before standing up straight because it’s just occurred to you how sketchy you all must look huddled in a circle like this. “So like… how does this work? Do we just… go up to them? Is there like some kind of code-?”

Wanda snorts loudly, throwing her head back and laughing. Your face slips into a pout and you cross your arms over your chest.

“No, idiot,” Wanda replies, pulling a tube of lipstick and a mirror out of her clutch. She starts to apply it while speaking to you. “They’re here already, and we’ve just gotta go up to them,” she smacks her lips together with finality, “and tell them we’re interested. Or, more like you’re going up to them and we’re here for moral support.”

“What happened to your guy, Wanda?” Nat asks, signaling to the bartender for a refill.

“And how did you get into it?” you ask her, one eyebrow quirking.

She smiles conspiratorially and runs her hands carefully through her hair. “There’s an app. And Viz and I are still together-”

“Viz? ” you almost choke on your own spit because you laugh so hard. Natasha joins you in a far more respectful way, her shoulders shaking as she picks up her now-full glass. Getting literal daggers thrown at your face would’ve been less piercing than the look that Wanda’s giving you right now, so you decide to shut your mouth and listen.

“Yes,” she says your name condescendingly, which makes you roll your eyes. “His name is Vision - it’s a long, personal story that I won’t share with either of you because you both fucking suck,” she stares the two of you down, “but that’s his nickname and what everyone calls him. It’s kinda cool, you know: super contemporary. Like Madonna or Beyoncé or Cher-”

“Okay,” Natasha licks her lips, putting one of her hands on her hip. “We get it, Wanda, thanks. But you told us that you guys broke up-?”

“Yeah, we just took a break,” Wanda shrugs. “Now, we’re back together and better than ever.”

You and Nat share a look before blinking back at Wanda, nodding your heads compliantly.

“So,” you rock back on your heels and start snapping your hair tie again. “Are we gonna go do this, or?”

Wanda’s eyes drift down to your wrist before she places a hand on top of it, stilling your actions. Your eyes are wide and glossy, your teeth worrying your lip.

“What’re you nervous about?” Wanda begins quietly, rubbing circles into your skin with her thumb. “They’ll love you - they’re all super cool and really hot. I think that the only problem that you’ll have is that you’ll be spoilt for choice.”

Your laugh comes out watery but sincere nonetheless, so Wanda loops her arm through yours while Natasha grips your hand tightly.

“Maybe we should get you a drink-”

“No, Nat,” you inhale deeply. “I wanna be completely sober for this. After… after, yeah. I’m definitely gonna need a drink after.”

You all laugh while Wanda weaves you through swathes of socialites, stopping to say hello to some people. When you finally make your way all the way to the other end of the roof, you can see why you didn’t see them before. There is a set of stairs that lead down to what looks like a zen garden. Tall torches flame a collection of very comfortable-looking couches are placed around a stone firepit and on top of those couches are a group of some of the most handsome men that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The first one to make eye contact with you is astoundingly attractive, so much so that you almost trip over your own feet. You know- you can just tell that he smells incredible. His mahogany skin shines in the light of the fire, and his full lips curve over a gap-toothed smile that he shoots your way; it immediately makes a smile of your own spread on your face. His beard is lined up to perfection and there’s a mischievous sparkle in his whiskey brown eyes. A little bit of his chest hair pokes out from underneath the top of his almost halfway-unbuttoned dress shirt and your mouth waters. You almost feel sorry for the slacks that are hugging his thighs sinfully tight because his powerful legs look like they’re about to burst through the seams.

You decide that you’ve never wanted to be a pair of pants so badly in your life.

Jesus Christ. These men aren’t even close to what I expected.

All you can say is that you’re glad to see that the same caliber of attractiveness holds up for the rest of them.

The man next to him has longer brunette hair that hits his shoulders and you just want to run your hands through the silky strands. He has a bit more of a rugged look, his facial hair groomed purposely to give off that energy. He’s wearing a tight, long-sleeve black shirt and black slacks too, the monochrome outfit highlighting every inch of his well-toned body. When you look at him, he’s staring down into his glass, the sweetest smile on his face that makes you bite the inside of your cheek. But then he looks up at you, and you’re taken aback by the vibrance of his steel-blue eyes. It stops your breath momentarily, and you have time to regain it when he taps the man next to him on the knee and points towards the three of you.

The man in question raises his head, face shielded partially by a pair of yellow-tinted glasses. His blonde hair is slicked back away from his face, and you take a second to admire his prominent bone structure. But he’s looking right past you, eyes boring holes into Wanda which makes you stop your ogling.

You assume that this must be Vision.

There’s one of the men who isn’t facing you and doesn’t even turn around to do so, but you can make out his extremely broad shoulders clad in a white t-shirt even from where you stand a distance away. Even the back of his head is attractive, his thick neck and pushed-back blonde hair. Wanda tugs on your arm impatiently, evidently eager to reach her man.

The three of you linked together almost fall down the stairs before you regain your collective composures and strut over there with all the confidence that you don’t feel. Wanda lets you and Nat go when you draw closer, fixing her hair before the brightest grin that you’ve ever seen on her face shines at Vision. He opens his arms to greet her and you have to look away because of the very much x-rated kiss that she plants on him: you feel like you’re intruding on something.

“Jesus,” Nat snorts in your ear, her hand still resting in yours. This makes you giggle, high-pitched and nervously, so Nat squeezes your hand before she pulls you forwards.

Wanda has situated herself in the lap of her man, his hand resting gently on her hip. She clears her throat, cheeks red from her public display of affection, and begins to speak.

“Hi, guys,” she says, waving and smiling at all the men politely. They all greet her back warmly, raising their hands too. “These are my best friends. This is Nat,” she gestures to the girl next to you and Nat just nods her head in acknowledgment.

“And this is the friend I told you about,” Wanda introduces you by name to the four men who she points at in turn: “Bunny, this is Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Vision, and Steve Rogers.”

Giving a little awkward wave of your hand, you unglue your eyes from the floor and scan all of the men up close now.

They’re all so much prettier up close.

From this distance, you can now clearly see how pretty Sam’s eyes are, how bright Bucky’s smile is, how strong Vision’s jaw is, and-

Holy shit.

It’s obvious that you must’ve died and gone to heaven some time in these past few minutes because Adonis’ blue eyes are scorching holes into your face. His high-neck white long sleeve sweater is probably in his size but the way that his muscles flex under the material is telling you otherwise. The size of his biceps - probably as big as your head - briefly make you wonder what they would feel like wrapped around your neck-

If you stare hard enough at his pecs - which you are - you can see the hard peaks of his nipples; you decide that there’s something so sensual about that and if that alone didn’t just make you wet, you decide that you can’t be human. The sweater is tucked into grey checkered pants with a black Yves Saint Laurent belt wrapped around his surprisingly narrow waist. He’s leaning back in his seat with his huge hands on his thighs, his strong legs spread wide almost an invitation for you to crawl between them. Your eyes move past his clearly tailored pants to his huge feet clad in black Versace loafers and you can feel the liquid that pools in your cunt. Realizing that you’re shamelessly checking this poor man out, your eyes snap up to his face only to have the breath completely knocked out of you, not for the first time tonight.

Not only is his body complete perfection, but his face is also arguably even better. His defined jawline gives you the urge to run your tongue over it but that beard. Your squeeze your thighs together because you want to know how it feels between your thighs. His ears are perfectly proportional to his head - a characteristic that should never be underestimated, mind you - and his cheekbones are high. But you can’t ignore the fullness nor the rosy pigmentation of his lips - his lower lip is fuller than the top and you wanna bite it so bad and he’s smirking a little. When you finally lock eyes with him, you feel as if you’re drowning but admittedly even if you were, you wouldn’t mind doing so in the blue of his irises. They darken slightly when they train onto yours, and one of his perfect eyebrows lifts questioningly.

This whole interaction has only lasted about five seconds but it feels like you’re in a movie, everything moving in slow motion. He stands up abruptly and you do actually choke at his size, his sheer height and width alone soaking your panties. One hand in his pocket, he takes slow, measured steps until he stands directly in front of you, not even sparing a glance at Natasha.

“Bunny, huh?” you pray that your knees won’t give out at his deep baritone and you can’t take your eyes away from his, even when he sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Steve Rogers.”

tagged: @literaturefeen​ @donutloverxo​ @evnscvll​ @stargazingfangirl18​

[ahiddenpath]

If you could give Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori their own crests, what would they be?

This is a really tough one!  I do love that they “inherited” crests; the whole “these kids gets mentors” was so cute?  A great way to bring back the older kids in a meaningful way.  I personally think the 02 crew “had it together” in ways the original crew... kind of didn’t, lol!  But they did have a lot of benefits (ability to go home, Koushiro as an advisor, mentors, two members who already knew what was going on, etc).

I also really love the observation that Adventure emphasized individual development (finding and earning and internalizing their crest traits, evolution is triggered by understanding yourself) and 02 emphasized team development (jogress/evolution triggered by strong bonds between teammates, inheriting wisdom from the ones who came before).  So...  I guess I hate to mess with that?  But I do also see the appeal of giving them their own traits...

THIS GOT INCREDIBLY LONG, but it’s a really cool post, I think!  So please read on beneath the cut!

Daisuke

Honestly, I think miracles works pretty well?  I’ve heard people say that Daisuke just...  Does whatever he wants/follows his gut, and it tends to work out; ie he’s more “lucky” than “an effective leader.”  

Personally, I...  Truly admire Daisuke’s faith and optimism and just...  Just raw belief in everyone?  I have anxiety, so sometimes my brain loves to tell me that a thing I’ve done a million times with no problems will somehow explode in my face.  Can you imagine just...  Choosing to always believe, and acting like everything will be okay?  I don’t mean “sticking your head in the sand and going LALALA THIS IS FINE,” I mean taking action without hesitation, even when things are scary.

Like, yeah, maybe that’s not always valid IRL- you need to plan and be realistic and accept and reevaluate when your plan isn’t working- although I’d argue that Daisuke learned to do that over the course of the series (I remember him saying the team should rest at some point, and everyone was surprised that he didn’t want to press on, except Ken).

But I also maintain that Daisuke’s ability to believe in himself, his team, and just a general “things will be okay” is what creates success that almost seems... miraculous!

Also, I think he is suuuch a great meld of courage and friendship, because he pushes on when things are scary (courage) and is able to do so because he believes in everyone (friendship).

So, I’m thinking something like faith/confidence/trust.  And having listed some similar-ish words...

I’m going with trust.  

What incredible things you can do, when you believe in yourself, your team, and the future.

Miyako

I’ve seen other people assign her the crest of “passion,” which I think is great!  

I think the thing about Miyako is that she’s, like...  Always on, always 150%, so dynamic and vibrant and just... her cup overflows with energy and... Miyako-ness.  

It’s clear to see how she relates to her “purity” side.  It took me a long time to understand what I think the crest of purity means, thanks to a lot of... ickiness around the word “pure” in western tradition, which is also why I am loathe to throw the word “innocence” into my definition.  Basically, I think the crest of purity means that Mimi and Miyako don’t dissemble/hide how they really feel.  You’re always getting their raw, honest truth.  And, because Mimi in particular is spoiled, she can come off as childish- which is where people like to throw in the word “innocent.”  

[The general selfishness of children is related to them not knowing yet that they aren’t the center of the world- psychologically; Freud would call it “being ruled by the id.”  It’s just a developmental stage, and doesn’t really indicate actual selfishness.  You know how Winnie the Pooh is a sweetheart, but can make things miserable for other people by just assuming he can help himself to everything?]

But Mimi also displays a child’s heart in terms of being kind and sweet and sensitive and wanting to help... and then swinging back towards the id at the drop of a dime, lol!

Like Mimi, Miyako is very comfortable giving her opinion and drawing attention to herself, and she doesn’t seem to be holding herself back...  But we do eventually see that things can weigh on her, and that she’s sometimes putting up a front when her energy actually isn’t at 150%.

I think the “love” part is a bit harder to pin down, but then...  The word “love” is incredibly vague, and means a million different things to different people, which is why I kind of hate discussing the crest of love!  I like to think of it as “the crest of compassion” to focus discussions; sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it.  

It’s kind of funny to think of Miyako with the crest of love compared to Sora.  Sora tends to show love by watching over people, being kind and supportive and brave even when she’s struggling and hiding the signs of her struggle/dismissing her own struggles, doing things for others, often without even letting people know she did anything.

In comparison, Miyako shows compassion by being present for people she loves, telling them bluntly when they need to shape up (which, frankly, a lot of Digimon characters really need.  We need waaaaaay less staring into each other’s faces and never answering concerned questions and waaaaaaay more *slap* GET IT TOGETHER!  God, ilu Miyako), and being honest and open about how much she cares for them.

So yeah, passion!  

Iori

One of my favorite Chosen, this sweet good boy that I lovelovelovelove!

So one thing about Iori is that, while I can write big honkin’ analysis of how Daisuke and Miyako show their inherited crests...  Um, I think Iori is his own thing.  Like, I don’t... super get honesty and knowledge off of him.  I mean, the honesty thing, sure.  His Grandpa taught him not to lie, we had a whole ep based on that alone.  As for knowledge, yes, he wants to know the truth and get to the bottom of things.  

But...  Neither crest ever felt like a slam dunk for him?  Even though it’s easy to see how “honesty” and “knowledge” coalesce into “a desire for truth,” which is further illustrated in his career as a (presumably upright and truth-seeking) lawyer.  Like, it’s right there in front of your face, Hidden!

BUT LEMME PULL UP A CHAIR, CAPTAIN AMERICA STYLE, AND HASH WITH YOU.

The thing that, to me, stands out about Iori most is that he’s grounded and centered.  Have you seen that post recently that explains how Daisuke tried, just one time, to treat Iori like a little kid (he says, “shut up, little brat”)?  And Iori- who is about three years younger than Daisuke, and much more withdrawn- politely but firmly replies, “Please don’t talk to me like that.”  

AND YOU KNOW WHAT?  DAISUKE APOLOGIZES AND NEEEEVER TALKS DOWN TO IORI AGAIN.

Iori is like...  He’s like eight, my dudes!  Rolling with a bunch of eleven-ish year olds!  He’s personal friends with Miyako, a twelve year old, before Adventure 02 even opens!  And we don’t often see him being doted on and protected like Takeru and Hikari were in the same situation.

YOU WANNA KNOW WHY?  The simple answer is that he’s mature, but I wanna say that he’s grounded, the ultimate earth sign type (I think Digmon is a pretty clear metaphor).  He doesn’t get flustered or swayed.  He knows where he is, where he stands, what he must do.  On the one hand, this makes him mature beyond his years, reliable, able to stand up for himself and be an equal team mate among kids who are older than him.

The downside is that “that which cannot bend must break.”  I’m sure you’ve read a zillion metas about how Iori sees in black-and-white originally and has trouble changing his world views and learning to forgive...  But he does all of those things, maturing further into possibly just... just...  Can you even imagine him as an adult?!  HE’S TOO POWERFUL.

So, if he were an Adventure character, I’d say that his crest is integrity, and he has to go through his adventure to learn what that really means for him- to develop from stubborn, black-and-white thinking to true integrity.

THANKS FOR THE ASK!

[valkblue]

Being a Behavior technician requires a certain amount of dedication to the job — the rigorous type, bordeline rigid. That’s what is expected to be at peak efficiency regarding analysis protocols and diagnostics for host service and calibration.

For that, Vivian thinks she might be the worst tech in her department.

— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 2 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 3,340 Rating: General Warning: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ same as usual: swearing and technobabble!

Author’s notes: Bad behavior tech, bad!! 

Have a good time reading, and my askbox/messages are always open! 💙

— Chapter 2

There were some days, like this one, during which Vivian and her team were called back in the night; a group of guests went all trigger happy and their mess had to be cleaned up somewhere between the Abernathy Ranch and Las Mudas. And since the narratives and hosts had to be back in rotation asap, the techs’ nighttime was reduced without thinking twice.

Maybe it didn’t look like it, but this job was really taxing sometimes.

That being said, shortly after 6AM, Vivian went back to her room for a few extra and well deserved minutes of sleep before resuming her diagnostics routine. An hour and a big mug of coffee with cereals later, Vivian was back in the elevator which took her down to the Behavior department level.

In the soft lighted glass room, a host was sitting on a wheeled stool. The light brightened when Vivian entered.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," she said on a hushed voice as if she wanted no-one but the offline host to hear her while letting the glass panel shut down slowly behind her. "I had a rough night. Looks like you did too…"

Ironically, he hadn’t been part of this night’s massacre. No, all those involved were already back in rotation for quite some time. Her first subject of the day, however, had only been victim of his own storyline, needing only a quick check-up and Vivian’s all clear before being back on his loop.

She sat on the stool in front of the host, doing her best to ignore his nudity, and unfolded her tablet on her knees; she had to navigate through several indexes before connecting to his signal for a couple update history checkups.

"Bring yourself back online, please," she ordered, without raising her voice.

The command only seemed to take him out of his thoughts.

"Can you hear me?"

"I hear you alright."

"Off character, for now, please."

Vivian loved to talk to them in character… but, for her diagnostics, she had to ask them to reduce their emotional affect — which was more a guarantee of efficiency than an actual need, though.

"There’s been modifications in your attributes last month," she stated as she was discovering the changes. "Several characteristics got… Who the fuck did that?!"

Vivian had an answer to that already, as she was going through the log; someone from Narrative — that she would brand as asshole — had been pretty heavy handed on self-preservation and aggression, and on top of that they also nerfed curiosity, patience and courage!

There was pitiful justifications from the tech about an adjustment request from their sector after some of the host's alleged wanderings, blamed on his curiosity. But all this was more about making him keener to answer provocation while still being enough of a challenge for his opponents — hosts and guests alike. Vivian didn’t like what kind of freedom Narrative techs were taking with the hosts’ attributes, carefully calibrated by her co-workers and others before them; it wasn’t as simple as changing percentages on the fly in any way they saw fit!

It was a delicate and very important step for any host's cognition, for them to even function at all, as much as for the continuity of their fucking narratives!

Vivian took a deep breath and the time to check the quality of the host’s interactions since the modifications but the results only ended up fuelling her rage. So, she commanded:

"Archive this configuration and open the previous one. Confirmed?"

"Yes."

Vivian smiled, satisfied. On her tablet, the attribute matrix seemed now way more familiar than the last.

"We’ll leave 1.5% more in self-preservation… since they thought it best to give you a few more to endure their bullshit," she grumbled. "And then… 0.5 in aggression for them not to come back to lay it on thick! 6.5 will be more than enough. No need to go all the way up to 10!"

Vivian confirmed her modifications before looking back at the host.

"What d'you think?" she asked, without really expecting any answer from him. “No imbalance or discomfort?”

Modifications could sometimes cause hiccups in the hosts’ cognitions, close to an uneasy feeling. There were other ways to know but Vivian preferred to talk rather than relying only on the screen readings.

"No, I’m fine."

And from what Vivian could read now, he wasn’t lying. Although, browsing his history, she noticed a worrying peak of stress at the time of his "death". It would seem like a normal thing from anyone's standpoint but from which of a host and their technician's, however…

"Your last interaction recorded a peculiar rise in your stress level. What caused this?"

"A… thought."

His mumblings were recognised as improvisations by the tablet. Despite her surprise, Vivian said nothing of it.

"What thought?" she encouraged him instead.

"My family. I’m supposed to be responsible for… my wife, and my daughter."

Vivian noticed the normal occurrences of his cognition in the scrolling of his code.

"But… I can’t help it, I’m out of place, there."

He was getting out of beaten path a little with this comment.

"How are your relations with them?"

"Acceptable."

He kept a few seconds of silence before adding:

"My daughter, I think something’s wrong with her."

"Between you and her?" she asked, for clarity’s sake.

"No…"

"Analysis: what prompted this observation?"

He looked hesitant. On the tablet, still no conflict.

"Her interactions are limited," he then said. 

Vivian hesitated too; should she report this observation? Perhaps it was relevant for a potential issue somewhere else…

"It must be my fault."

The tablet, however, reported a new improvisation in that answer.

"Your fault?! Why?"

"I… I should enjoy being home."

According to the datas scrolling up, that was a scripted answer from his guilt library but despite that, what took Vivian aback was the tears running down his cheeks. On the screen — distress, confusion. That wasn't the affect class linked to it. But she didn’t suppress his emotional response…

Instead, she glanced carefully through the glass panels around them; her closest colleagues were two cubicles away, doing the same thing as her. Well, maybe not exactly; once positive that no-one would catch her, Vivian leaned forward a little to put her hand on her subject’s cheek, wiping the tears off with a gentle brush of her thumb.

She could have calmed him down with a simple word, or even with a tap on the right button on her tablet but… what would be the point? Vivian didn’t want to, not with him. And to be honest, as much as she was sincerely touched by the faithfulness of his emotion, it was also convenient for her that he would bring such a topic up.

"Children have a short memory but a quick mind…"

Victor Hugo said that first. And Vivian was quoting him today with something else than Philosophy in mind; she had just use a voice command — her voice command. A simple little script she sneaked into the host’ complex code architecture. More or less mixed with the rest of it, encrypted and virtually unnoticeable without knowing what to look for, it gave the recipient host the ability to keep in their memory, in a hidden and compressed partition, all the events happening between the activation and deactivation of said command. Conversations, feelings, impressions… Everything was there. And everything would remain, even after each reset.

The host couldn’t access it at will without hearing the command, and for what Vivian had noticed so far, it didn’t interfere with his narrative, alter his attitude, cause any glitch nor any pain.

According to her analysis, it was only perceived as a distant memory, one of those leaving an undescribable feeling or a sense of déjà-vu…

Despite the severity of her infraction, Vivian was quite proud of her small "innovation". And she had chosen this one, host ID# MG73368928764, to receive her creation among all the percentage of the park’s population her team had in charge. She had chosen him because of his responsiveness in analysis, because he hadn’t been in any big narrative for at least ten years, because she had already noticed a few oddities in his code, because there was something soft in his eyes, a little extra something…

And quite frankly? Because he was the one who inspired her to create this command, based on an idea that has been on her mind. Because she wrote it for him.

Ever since she arrived in the Behavior department, Vivian had done quite a lot of analysis, calibrations, and had many occasions to talk with plenty of hosts, in character mode or not. And the guys from the Narrative department had done such a good job in writing all these characters, their lexical bases, just like her colleagues from Behavior, in encoding and calibrating all that work into each host put in their care!

Or at least, that’s how Vivian was seeing things back then.

But this particular host caught her eye more than any other; she had quickly noticed how much he was calling upon his improvisation engine compared to others and the feeling of having an actual conversation with a well aware person was sometimes so baffling that, against all common sense, Vivian furthered it. Not to mention the frustration she felt that he could never really recall anything else than what his logs allowed him to, after each diagnostic. But since the installation of her script, the inference frequency in his dialog chains increased. And he was calling upon it with even more fluency.

To the point that their sessions became a real pleasure for Vivian!

It was selfish, she realised that… but she wanted him to keep something from it so badly, something from her, just like she could think back on their conversations with emotion. Those past ones were lost for him but, now, he could remember all those that followed the installation of her script.

Vivian smiled when he focused on her.

"Hello, Lawrence."

He looked hesitant for a second, like a man still not fully awake yet. No alert or conflict from his inference engine on her tablet.

"Hey…"

At his answer, Vivian smiled to him again, and so did Lawrence, even if he kept something a bit shy, uncertain, numbed. In that intermediate state, it wasn’t like coming back to the warmth, the liveliness and the responsiveness of the character mode but it wouldn’t be as cold as the analysis mode could be. Even though he was reverting to his usual demeanor.

Vivian didn’t program that; this semblance of a balance had set itself around the integration of the script in the depths of the core-code. But she liked the result.

"How are you, today?"

His drawl was back when he answered:

"Well enough, I’d say. Like after a real good sleep…"

Vivian grinned, amused.

"Perfect."

"And you, how are you?"

The spontaneity of Lawrence’s question took her by surprise.

"Well… um, I’m glad I can talk with you a bit," she finally answered. "Do you remember our last encounter?"

"21 days and 11 hours ago."

This time, the answer was delivered almost without accent; the question had triggered an analysis type of answer.

"And do you remember what our talks were about?"

He would have to query in his archived and encrypted memories to be able to answer this question. If he had it "right", then it would mean that everything was in order.

"Yeah, I told you about my folks, my… my drives. And that project you worked on for some time. It was a secret."

"It still is, Lawrence," she reminded him softly.

"I can keep a secret."

That wasn’t something he needed to convince her of! And she was less wary about him than about any other technician snooping in his code like the guys from Narrative did between two of her maintenance sessions. She gritted her teeth, frustrated and annoyed, by the limits of her authority on the modifications decided in high places, and on whom…

It was her fault, really; she shouldn’t have grew attached to a host like she did to Lawrence, but now things were the way they were, and it wasn’t possible for her to purge her memories and rewrite her affections as easily as a few lines of code. She was only human, after all!

Vivian brushed her boiling emotions off with a brief sigh before fully focusing back on Lawrence, asking him:

"Did this script cause you any issue since our last encounter?"

He still looked slightly numbed as he answered:

"I… I don’t understand…"

"No interference with your core-code?" she rephrased.

"No. None."

Not to brag, but she suspected that much. The only persisting worries she had were the saturation of his memory, provided that could actually be possible. Normally, the hosts’ memory was wiped between each rotation; then, there was no telling what could really happen if a unit gathered too much data. Vivian might as well be ending up editing her script to overwrite the oldest logs… She hesitated, biting her lower lip then tried a new question:

"No saturation?"

"No."

She gazed at him for a long minute before looking down on her tablet and stating, more to herself than to him:

"Maybe… maybe you’d rather be rid of all those… memories."

She held back the word "useless".

"No, not at all!"

Vivian frowned but a shy smile appeared on her lips.

"Why?"

"'Cause memories are priceless," he answered. "The good ones just like the bad… That’s what makes one remember where they’re from, and who their folks are. It’s what shape one’s life…"

And she followed the improvisation notifications on his dialog chain, but the irony in all this also made her feel somewhat bitter.

"Do… do you know where you are, now?" she asked.

"Ain’t so sure," he answered, holding her gaze, frowning. "Feels… like a dream I already had…"

That wasn’t far from the truth, indeed.

"And it’s gonna be time to wake up, now."

"Alright…"

Unfortunately, Vivian didn’t have all the time she’d love to give him. She tapped on her tablet, biting her lower lip; all of his levels were green, nothing to report — he had her all clear.

"Are we gonna see each other again soon?"

The question made her raise her head, almost stunned; Vivian wasn’t on the interface where she could follow his dialog chain anymore but didn’t need it to recognise improvisation.

"You… you’d want that? I mean…"

She cleared her throat, mouthing a silent word, before rephrasing:

"Would you like that?"

"Sure!"

That answer pleased Vivian, anyway; she felt herself blush and stumbled upon her words until something coherent came to her mind.

"Well then, I… I’ll do my best. I promise."

Lawrence nodded, apparently satisfied, and Vivian held his gaze while taking a short breath.

"They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."

This time, it was Edgar Allan Poe’s prose Vivian had chosen to end her script, and stop the recording of his memories. None of what would happen after hearing those words would remain in Lawrence’s memory, unless she or another technician botched the wipe before sending him back in his narrative loop.

Vivian stayed with him until the cleanup was complete then disconnected the signal after putting him offline; she was already late for her next session but didn’t hurry all that much to tuck her tablet and get up. It was pissing her off to let him there, like that…

She let out a brief sigh then, after a look at her watch, she finally but reluctantly left the room.

The day didn’t only seem too long to Vivian; around 10PM, it had really started to drag on and it was about time to leave her be. Especially if some other guests were planning to unload their barrels during what little time she had left to sleep!

At least, Damon Dyers kept things cool on his side. Margaret had managed to get footages of his arrival in Sweetwater and his first steps in one of the easiest narratives, according to her, but she didn’t seem disappointed when offering them to take a look at those videos she had already viewed a good dozen times since on her tablet. She had been very chatty about his clothing, narratives, adventure companions, and even taking friendly bets on what he would do next…

"Everybody’s gonna be hyped like crazy outside when his review’s gonna hit the park website!" laughed Thawal, finishing what would be his last coffee cup for today.

Charles snorted.

"As if Delos needed more of that…"

Margaret nodded in approval, all the more when Luke added:

"No joke, that’s better than any of those stupid casting headshots! It’s the best career boost he could hope for, right now!"

"Not to burst it for you but, nobody is gonna see this outside," commented Vivian. "It was hard enough for Marge to get them in-house, so I can’t even imagine getting them out!"

To what Luke shrugged.

"Do you really believe that?! There’s nothing a few bucks under the table can’t buy, and footages instead of a crappy picture in Sweetwater is no big deal, I’m sure! It’s not like it’s IP or some shit…"

Margaret scoffed.

"I didn’t pay, not even fucked anybody to get them,” she muttered, openly cynical, as if her thoughts were escaping between her gritted teeth. “I’m trash but I didn’t stooped that low yet."

With Charles laughing like a braying donkey in the background, Luke corrected:

"That’s not what I meant, Marge! But yeah, thanks to prove my point all the same…Even Marge managed to put her hands on it, without shaking down her pockets or her ass, so imagine what you can get if you’re ready to drop some cash!"

Luke’s rhetoric seemed to get the point across as it was followed by a moment of silence around the table, and the tablet in its center, on which the patched-up hour of video feeds was still going.

"Anyhow, it makes nice memories to bring back home…"

Vivian pulled her attention away from the screen to stare at the focused — mesmerised — face of Thawal. He was right, it would make nice memories…

She bit her lower lip and turned back towards the tablet; suddenly, Dyers wasn’t the center of attention anymore, not even a guest who came to show off in the park — there was nothing else than people, hosts or guests it didn’t matter, listening to a more charismatic man than the others carrying a tune next to a player piano for the pleasure of his audience. And far from being corny or just lame, the scene even had something charming.

"And you said he’s going to Pariah, after that?"

Charles’ voice cut Vivian’s thoughts short.

"Yeah," answered Margaret. "He got there yesterday, I think…"

Margaret searched her video directory and selected one that spreaded across the entire screen; they could see Dyers and his two friends, lead by Teddy, on the trail of the narrative they had picked — a bounty hunt, if Vivian understood everything.

"It’s so fucking epic, Marge!" bursted Thawal, leaning over the tablet as if he wanted to dive in it. "Looks like another remake of the Magnificent Seven…"

"Except they’re only four," Charles snarked.

Thawal and Margaret glared at him, which made him laugh even more.

"I know, right?" Marge then admitted. 

She turned towards Vivian, beaming with happiness. She smiled back but her mind was already elsewhere; somewhere around Las Mudas, she wasn’t quite sure yet…

On the screen, Dyers was continuing his adventure, like larping or a life size fanfiction. Now that Vivian was thinking about it, it had been a while since her last vacation… 

She could maybe use her special employee discount, and do so to hold her promise?

[nad-zeta]

Match up! (◠‿◠✿)

hiya!! can i pls get a matchup for ikesen, if its ok? 💞

bi girl i prefer guys! ambiverted intp, gryffindor, n true neutral. i have an older twin sis n i love/hate her sm lmao!!

i have medium-length straight-ish black hair (w/ a side bang to the right) & dark brown eyes!! im 5'5-ish, fun fact: im a filipina!

sooo im a complex daydreamer!! i NEED attention/affirmation or ill feel unwanted/sad. emotional scorpio, im quite sensitive. anxiety, i overthink too much! quiet w/ people im not close w/. easily annoyed but guilty after ‘cause im soft-hearted. im like half funny/playful/kind & half deep/mature/awkward- hopeless romantic! i have a way w/ words, sorta poetic? i wanna be the best! sorta socially anxious, i have a fear of judgement. im not innocent but ppl think i am at first. i look fine but deep down im a big mess. rlly smart & knowledgable. vv passionate, big nerd actually! im like a kid w/ my twin but w/ others im more mature. im the type to do fun stuff and loosen up but would also just cuddle and have long convos. im vv good w/ technology! very imaginative, i come up with stories a lot- around others im very quiet because i literally have no idea what to say. actually a big history fanatic, hehe. i act confident but im not rlly, actually vv insecure and i regret a lot of things.

a habit of mine is that i tend to drift away and just… think? i also tend to care a lot abt my appearance! i get competative but there are also times when im just chill. i get vv embarrassed when i lose control tho n i regret it sm :(( i have loads of trouble asking for help even if i like to help others a lot! i like being organised but i tend to be… chaotic.

hsjsh- fun fact: there are times where im just,, super hyper n say the weirdest things? im good in school but,, im lazy yknow- i love math (surprisingly, i got a natural talent?), science (esp abt stars n space), history, and english (actually my 2nd languange but im very fluent) the most. bilingual but im also learnin french! wanna learn latin too tho but id break down- i have the fear of the unknown, failure, n loneliness! im scared of the future cause its beyond human ability to know,, the only guys ive rlly talked to r family members so my awkwardness goes 100x hsjsjs

oh, i rlly love affection, but i need a lot of space too, tho! girls gotta have privacy- games r a hUge part of my life, so is technology and the modern era! i actually like sports too- not very good at em tho :((

some likes: gaming, jokes (esp corny/stupid/puns), space, stars, weapons (esp swords/guns), philosophy, psychology, testing myself, affection, animals, doing exhilirating things, music, movies, books, writing, astrology, astronomy, learning new things, & mythology.

some dislikes: too much heat, school presentations, creepy dolls, being under pressure, dirty things, blind faith, & annoying people.

tysm! omg i hope this isnt too long- i think this is too long?? yIkes i hope that this is ok!! love ur writing btw! stay safe 💞

Hi hi love! thank you so much for the request! You sound like a wonderful person and omw it soooo cool that you have a twin! I actually think she sent in a request right after you did lol! Anyways sorry for making you wait sooooo long and i hope you enjoy it! @x-joie-x

 So i match you with...................... Mitsuhide

The first time you meet this sneki boy, you were quiet and reserved. War council had just ended and you were named as a princess of the Oda forces. You were super socially awkward, and anxiety was slowly starting to creep in, as the curious warlords started to surround you. It wasn’t until Mitsuhide had pulled you away in a teasing manner to save you from the crowd that you finally started to calm down. He had noticed this new little mouse had been on edge since arriving. However, he didn’t suspect you of being an assassin or spy as, during the whole council, your hands shook, and you could barely speak up against Nobunaga’s demanding and commanding tones. 

Mitsuhide had found you incredibly amusing from the first moment you walked in, you caught this foxes eye. He didn’t know if it was the innocence or naïve purity that just seemed to radiate from you, but for some reason when he was looking at you, he found that he simply couldn’t look away.

It took all of one day for all the warlords to officially drop all suspicions of you. You were just such a sweetheart how could they not instantly love you and feel the need to protect you. You had started helping a few of the maids that first morning after you were named princess. You didn’t want to be a freeloader, so you worked hard to earn your keep and soon, the maids were fighting over who would get to work with you cause all of then just loved and adored you so much. 

You got annoyed with Hideyoshi when he first found you helping the maids, as he was 100% started micromanaging you. You lost you cool and raised your voice at him, TBH Hideyoshi didn’t think anything of it, but it wasn’t until you had pitched up at his manor an hour later to apologize for being so rude to him that he realized what a sweet and sensitive person you truly were. Of course from that moment onward you had gained yourself a big doting brother.

All the Oda forces agreed that you were too sweet and naïve for your own good, so Mitsuhude was assigned to give you princess lesson to prepare you for your new life as Oda princess. You were super excited when Mitsuhide had told you that he was going to teach you a variety topics such as economics, politics, history and self-defence. You even managed to impress the sneki boy, by getting all the questions correct on the first test he had handed you. You had found that first test incredibly easy as you were a bit of a history buff, and all the questions had been based on Nobunaga’s history. This low key shook the sliver kitsune a little bit, as this proved that not only were you pure and naive but you were also super smart. You kind of reminded him a little bit of Mitsunari, a cleaver professor with their head in the clouds. 

Mitushide praised you for your ability to pick up on concepts quickly and work diligently as a student, “I dare say little one, you are the best student a teacher could ask for.” You spend masses amount of time with sneki boi, and through that time you realized just how sweet Mitsuhide truly was, although he was a massive tease leaving you a blushy mess almost every day after lessons with his teasing comments. And naturally, the more time Mitsuhide had spent with you, the more in love he fell. It was also noted by the fellow warlords that, Mitsuhide always wore a soft gentle expression when it came to you, and in your experience he had been a kind gentle patient teacher. SO naturally you found yourself more and more drawn to this mysterious man.

Through all the time spent with the kitsune, you found yourself opening up more and more. He was one of the few people that got to see your playful side. You now would make the puniest, corniest jokes he has ever heard, leaving this kitsune in a fit of laughter mid-way through a lecture. Not only that, but he loved loved loved your competitiveness side. 

This side of you slowly started to surface after the 3rd or 4th self-defence lesson when you started challenging the kitsune to rematches whenever he would pin you down, ultimately beating you in your little makeshift sword fight. Boy oh boy, don’t even get me started on the shooting lessons, once you were able to fire the rifle, you were straight-up challenging this boy, the best marksmen around to a shoot-off. “Come on Mitsuhide, the first one to get 100 bulls-eyes in a row wins, and the loser has to buy tea.” Needless to say, you always lost and even though every day you would make that exact bet, Mitsuhide would always insist on sticking you for tea and lunch as reward for being such a good student. 

He really enjoyed spending time with you and would absolutely insist on holding your hands whenever the two of you were on your way to the tea house together after your lessons. “I can’t have my clumsy little mouse tripping and falling now can I.” Every day without fail, he would say that to you as he wraps his big hand around your small one, while leading you to your favourite tea house.

The two of you would talk about everything and anything over tea, these topics ranged from you making stupid jokes, to talking about random topics such as philosophy and psychology. Either way, Mitsuhide loved to spend time with you. He would always listen to and hang on to every word you said, storing every word in his memory. 

You were his precious little mouse, and he knew you were an extremely sensitive creature. If anyone dared say a single bad word to you or make you sad, they would face the wrath of this very protective kitsune. Like one time, one of the visiting daimyos had talked down to you for accidentally bumped into him. You were busy cleaning the windows when you accidentally lost your balance and bumped into him. He was so disgusted that a mere maid had touched him. He started yelling at you and insulting you, this escalated to such a point that he even had his hand raised ready to hit you for getting dirty window water on his shoes. That’s when sneki boi decided to intervene. Mitsuhide legit stood protectively in front of you with his rifle pointed at the man’s heart, with the full intention to shoot. “Golly me it appears like you are quite the troublesome little mouse, my dear.” He then turned his sharp gaze towards the daimyo “I do suggest you apologize to the Oda princess, lest you want to answer for your crimes directly to Nobunaga.” The man simply scoffed and walked away. Mitsuhide then turned to you and enveloped you in a warm hug while kissing the top of your head, “Are you alright, my dear little mouse?” Mitsuhide looked into your beautiful eyes and gently took your hands in his, “Come little one, I have something I wish to show you.”

The two of you walked hand in hand to Mitsuhide’s manor, Mitsuhide led you out into his garden, where you saw something so beautiful you could cry. The garden was filled with flowers and candles and in the centre was a table set up, with a feast laid out op top of it. 

Mitsihide had told you that night that he was hopelessly in love with you. He was overjoyed when he had discovered that you like him, was also a hopeless romantic and that you had an incredibly poetic, romantic way with words. You handed him a letter in which you had expressed your feelings for him in the form of a beautifully written poem. You were actually intending to leave the poem on his desk as a way of confessing your feelings. This instantly melted sneki bois heart into a giant puddle and he couldn’t help but pull you in for a sweet kiss. 

After diner Mitsuhide had led you deeper into the garden where a fluffy blankie was sprawled out on the grass, he guided you to sit down and the motioned for you to lookup. Above you, a thousand stares were shooting across the sky in a big meteor shower. Mitsuhide pulled you into his arms and kissed your cheeks as the two of you watched the sky. He always remembered every detail you had told him about yourself, so when you revealed that you loved the sky and the stars, he knew he had to incorporate this rare meteor shower in your date somehow. 

This had sparked a new tradition between the two of you, to stargaze and spend the whole night in deep conversation. These nights were full of love and affection as Mitsuhide would pull you into his lap and just hold you there for hours and hours as the two of you talked and watched the sky

Of course sneki boi also had a bit of a spontaneous side, and would take you on exhilarating trips around Nobunaga’s territories. They were mostly missions but after you had nagged Nobunaga to give you permission to go along on the missions, you and Mitsuhide would finish the official work asap so that the two of you cuties had plenty of time to enjoy yourself in the new environment.

Mitsuhide loves everything about you from your slight messiness, to your love of learning new things. He also knows that his sweet little mouse sometimes needs some space and alone time and will be sure to give you as much alone time as you need to recharge. He knows that you will seek him out when you have had enough of your own company. He will always welcome you back with outstretched arms when you have had enough alone time, and shower you with endless amounts of affection.

Whenever you are feeling insecure or worrying about the future Mitsuhide is right there by your side, whispering words of affection and reassurance in your ears. He makes sure to remind you every day just how perfect you are and just how much he loves you. 

Often you can be found in sneki boys lap with your head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck as he soothingly strokes your hair. Don’t be surprised if this sneaky kitsune drops a few kissed on your nose, cheeks or lips during these quiet and peaceful moments, just as a way to convey how much he loves and adores you.

Other potential matches……………..Masamune 

I hope you enjoyed it dear and i hope you have the best day! 

[hecohansen31]

Would you be okay doing werewolf Duncan? I’m so thirsty for him that Id throw myself into the ocean. So werewolf Duncan fluff maybe? Smut if you want. Please? Thank you I love you bye

(A/N): Hello there, lovely!

Of course, I am ok with writing about werewolf! Duncan, I love supernatural AU of any kind, so feel free to send more, also this one is the start of a series, I might writen when I have more time... but let me know if you would interested into knowing more or not...

As always... I hope you’ll enjoy it and more importantly sorry for taking so much time!

Also I am tagging @dyns33 because she has a wonderful werewolf! AU and also @coollangdon since her sugar daddy/werewolf! Duncan is my favorite thing ever!

And also @blakewaterxx because she might like this!

WARNINGS: Death of a Character, Prejudice, Past Trauma, Hateful Relationship, Supernatural AU!, WItch! Reader (Mention of Coven), Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Squirting, Scratching and Growling, Unprotected sex (WRAP IT CHILDREN!), Mention of Heat and Werewolf Issues.

You still remembered the “High Priestess” ritual.

It had been the first moment ever when you had felt like you truly fit somewhere, in the excitation and the happiness of having finished a new journey and a new one starting the following day, when you would be told where you would testify your devotion to the goddess.

You had hoped it would be California, you loved the sun and the beaches and couldn’t wait to pass your time in one of its cities, alongside the fact that the treatment of witches there wasn’t as bad as in many other places, such as DC.

Madison had taunted you, about your choice, meanwhile Zoe and Queenie had shot grapes at her and Nan had giggled at the entire scene.

You and Mallory had danced till your feet hurt and Coco had lectured you uselessly about the calories in the pieces of cakes you had eaten.

And then things had started turning for the worse.

Cordelia had pushed a crown of flowers onto your hair, each flower chosen just for you, showing all your abilities: orchids, mignonettes and laurels, meaning devotion, value and talent.

And you had bowed to her, since she was the Supreme, and your boss through every sense, but also some kind of show of respect towards the person that had brought you out of the darkest place in your life, showing that you should never ever be afraid of your true nature.

You should have guessed that this was going to end up badly when you saw some kind of sadness on Cordelia’s face, but you had thought that she was just sad that you would be going out of Robinchaux and she would miss you, as a dear student of hers.

But then she had told you had chosen to be at DC, and although you hadn’t been able to protest at the ceremony, the following day you had stormed inside her office, as a true fury:

“You can’t make me go there!” you were aware that you sounded like a little child, but you hadn’t cared.

If you had to go back to DC, you would have rather stayed back with Madison at Robinchaux, taking care of new recruits, something which you dreaded, but still liked more than having to deal with snobbish werewolves who thought that witches were the bane of their existences.

“Your father died, yesterday, (Y/N)” told you Cordelia, her lips pursed together in an extremely serious expression, meanwhile her hands were joined in front of her, making her seem older, as if the thought of delivering such a bad news to you, hurt her more than you.

You had to process the phrase for a few minutes, before it truly settled.

And even when it did, it didn’t seem believable.

You had talked with your father a few days ago and he had told you that he was fine, he might have been developing a cold, but he was fine.

And he was extremely proud of you for having succeeded in becoming an ‘High Priestess’.

“I know that you don’t like it when I mention your mother… but believe me… she would have been proud of you, little princess”.

“All that matters to me, dad, is that you are proud of me” you had replied, not wanting to talk about the witchy mother that had left you on your father’s doorstep, after she had gotten pregnant with you on a one night stand with your father.

It wasn’t a matter of love, it was simple biology, but your father hadn’t ever let it weigh on your shoulder, taking you care and loving you as if you had been truly wanted and searched.

“And I am, sweetheart!” he had chanted, his hands coming to clap and you had smirked.

“Love you dad”.

“Love you, too, girlie”.

Those couldn’t be the last words that you had uttered to your father.

This must have to be some kind of twisted joke.

“… they found him last night, he had a heart-attack” explained Cordelia as if the thought that he had died of natural causes brought you some comfort “DC doesn’t have their alpha anymore, and I know who will raise after your father, it isn’t a dynasty that loves witches…”.

And you knew it from experience.

You wouldn’t be able to take over the role of your father in the werewolf community, since you were only partially a werewolf and hadn’t showed any part of that legacy.

Only pure-blooded wolves could attend the highest roles, hence you weren’t his heir, and since your father didn’t have any other children (he had been low key faithful to your mother, something that made you feel sick to your stomach, since she could have cared less), the title of “alpha” would go the most famous family in the city, the Shepherds.

You had known them all your life, mostly Duncan.

You had both come from high-end families and growing up as such till the day you had been shunned by the community because you had started making magical tricks.

One day you were grabbing onto some kitchen tools and the following day you were magically moving around those same kitchen tools, just shaking lightly your head and hands.

Everybody would have expected your father, the alpha of the community, coming from a long dynasty of pure-blooded wolves, to throw you away in the nearest community of witches, where you would grow up on your own with your own kind.

He should have remarried and have had other children, pure-blooded ones, at least.

But your father had kept you, treating you as a beloved daughter, wanting you desperately and loving you despite your birth flaw which hadn’t ever been that for him: he was the only werewolf that you had trusted in your life.

Beside Duncan.

But that was another story.

Since you had grown with the Shepherds’ only child, and their beloved heir, it was kind of expected for you two to be interested in the other, something that only a mate bond had intensified and it was natural that as teenagers you had been a couple, although his parents didn’t approve because you were partly.

You had loved him deeply and stupidly, thinking that you had fallen in love.

But soon you had discovered that, at least, for Duncan, it wasn’t nothing more than a fling and the entire time he had faked the emotions he had showed you, in a rather ridiculing situation that had brought you on the verge of losing your last brand of hope.

It was the night after that your father had bought you a ticket for New Orleans and packed you a suitcase.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you here suffering anymore, although it saddens me because I never want you to leave my side… but I just can’t have you feeling like this… I don’t want to bind you in this shithole of a city”.

At first you had thought that it was the worst idea ever, but then as you discovered more and more about your origins as a witch, you had slowly settled and created your own group at Robinchaux, ending up with better friends than ever that you loved and who loved you, back.

You had sworn of never going back there, but apparently…

… you had to.

“I know that this is too much to ask” Cordelia started, meanwhile she fidgeted with her hands, wondering whether she should have done something for you as hugging you or holding you as you trembled, but she kept on being unable, mostly when you were frozen in front of her, your breath barely audible.

“… ‘Delia, I can’t go back” your voice trembled with a frailty you hadn’t had in so many times “… I swore it to him, I owe it to him”.

“He needs you to rein in the situation: you know how the thing will be if the Shepherds take the entirety of the power, they’ll ban witches and try to find a way to destroy us, you know that as much as I love you, my first duty is to the community”.

“I know it” although her decision didn’t hurt you any less.

For any witches the life of the coven, mattered more than the one of a single.

Which wasn’t as different from what the werewolves did.

You, witches just didn’t care about the family matters as much as they did.

For you it was a sisterhood, and for them it was family

“I am going to let you have the weekend, before you come to a decision; I won’t be able to change the location, but you are more than welcome to remain here, in case, teaching is a noble job”.

You didn’t despise teaching, although you weren’t sure if you could handle any kind of brats, but you knew you were born for being a High Priestess, the one who leads a coven.

In the end, the following day you were on a train for DC, having chosen the path that had been laid out for you, with the knowledge that you wouldn’t act like a coward, running away from the problem, instead of fighting it, as you did, as soon as you were able to settle in your new role.

The first days were the hardest, mostly because you didn’t have to simply deal with a city without a leader, but with the private loss of your father, which hurt you much more than anything, but you were forced to show a neutral face, constantly pushing the pain away.

And alongside the pain, came the fact that you were secretly suspecting that your father’s death was an actual murder, since your father had always been a man extremely healthy and even the legal doctor proved to you when she showed you the body, she had found no trace of venomous substances, in his body.

But not only you didn’t trust anyone, anymore, but you knew it all too well that there were some poisons that could evoke such an effect, simulating a heart-attack and leaving no traces in the body.

You had studied them and knew how to create them.

But you had to thread lightly on this path, since not only you had the aversion of the main werewolves family, Shepherds included, but it had also been difficult to gain the other witches’ respect, mostly due to you half-being as a werewolf.

“She is one of them, she won’t understand our troubles” you had heard them utter, meanwhile you passed them through many reunions of the Council, the reunion where all magical creatures met together to talk about important matters.

But you had managed to get their respect in the end, proving to be one of them, alongside gaining the favor of many other magical creatures, since you had started solving some of their problems, whereas werewolves, a rather closed community, didn’t care for anything other than themselves.

Who hadn’t accepted you, in fact, were the werewolves, and with the Shepherds family running them you hadn’t expected it to be easy, although Duncan had showed himself to be much more malleable than his relatives, with you, mostly about the matters that belonged to fights between magical creatures.

You acted as a moderator for the werewolves, meanwhile Duncan, who had through the time become the Sheriff of the community, was the armed arm of your intervention, and although the werewolves still ruled, you had managed to bring some changes, mostly to soften some rules against the other magical creature.

Your relationship, aside from work, with Duncan was rather cold, mostly due to your behavior, with the constant refusal to believe thoroughly to him, avoiding him whenever you could, although the mate bond between you two had intensified due to the nearness.

You were just unable to let go of the past: you and Duncan had started dating when you were sixteen, although you weren’t the most popular girl, unlike him who could have had anyone he wanted, and it had been a sweet romance, painfully awkward due to your shyness and his need to impress others.

But you had loved him, in the naivest way a sixteen-year old could.

But he hadn’t cared for feelings or interests: it had been an easy move to control you and your father, and to humiliate you one day, when he had grown tired of the game.

And although you had both grown up in adults, you weren’t able to distance him from the cruel teenager, who had told everyone all your fears and insecurities.

Duncan on his part hadn’t shown many thoughts about the past and many times he had asked you for a coffee or such thing.

‘To have a little chat on what we missed’ he had justified it, looking at you with eyes full of intensity.

‘We are not a couple, anymore, Duncan, and we are adults enough to know not to step on each other’s feet’.

Still it had happened more and more frequently that you were pushed together, both the heirs to two big empires, with enough story that it wasn’t easy to disentangle each other from the mate bond.

Like that day.

You had woken up with a strange sadness washing over you, not belonging to you, since your day was supposed to be pretty nice.

It was a day off from the entire bullshit of DC, you had enough time to make your favorite breakfast and to read a bit, meanwhile you planned your monthly report for Cordelia, and you knew she would be proud of knowing that many rules were being changed and witches were feeling more at ease in the city.

But nothing you did, helped you in some way or some kind.

Hence, since the mate bond allowed you to share your emotions with your mate, you knew it was Duncan’s.

You tried to work through it, but it became more and more painful and worst of all it made you not focus properly on anything, and when you accidentally sent Cordelia an empty email, having deleted what you had written, for four times, it became clear that you wouldn’t be very much active.

So, you thought about getting to Duncan’s house and tell him to shut his fucking emotion, before you got a headache because of it.

But as you parked in the luxurious Shepherd mansion, you found only Annette opening your door, who looked like she had gone through a hurricane, her pristine condition being horridly tainted by something that looked like regret.

“I need to have a word with your son” you mumbled, not meeting her eyes and feeling again like when you had visited Duncan at his house, for the first time: Annette had never made you feel like everything might be more simple, constantly pushing obstacles between you and Duncan.

“He isn’t home” and she almost shoved the door against your face, just for you to enchant it to stay open.

“Then where is he?” you mumbled, not one of withholding the truth, alongside the fact that you hated this entire situation of being bound to the only person you couldn’t stand.

And meanwhile you kept the door open, magically, you took a good look at Annette, seeing that not only she was extremely less cheerful than usually, but she had probably cried, and this was your obvious cue that shit was going down between her and Duncan.

“I don’t honestly know” her answer was extremely truthful although it clearly pained her to speak so you didn’t ask much more, immediately moving away from the threshold, knowing all too well how these things went.

Although you and your father loved each other deeply, you had also fought many times, mostly because of Duncan now that you thought about this.

“… I am going to look for him, call me if he comes back home” it was more a thought than an actual suggestion since you knew that you and Annette didn’t have any kind of communication outside of the Council, but some part of you couldn’t help but be worried for Duncan.

Although it might have seemed cliché-y, Duncan had an amazing respect for his mother, and he cherished her suggestions more than his own ideas, something that had bothered you and still did, but you couldn’t hear yourself over that aching feeling Duncan was sharing with you.

You had lost so many years of Duncan’s growth that you weren’t sure where to start, but you thought about what Duncan had liked back when he was a sixteen year old with you, and you were brought back to an afternoon when you had chosen to share with Duncan your favorite place on Earth.

A little garden in an abandoned area and you had remembered how much Duncan had protested about the fact that the house was probably haunted, and you were going to be arrested for trespassing.

‘Is the rebel Duncan scared’ you had cooed sarcastically, meanwhile you went through the garden to reach a pretty little wood which had reminded you of the mythical wood you read in Greek hymns and poems, where the gods met humans.

He hadn’t cared in the slightest about anything anymore, rushing to your side, and taking your hand, meanwhile you reached the point you had chosen for a romantic pic-nick setting everything down, with Duncan’s help, and although looking back at it you knew it was all fake, you felt like Duncan had been truly happy, in that moment.

And he had kept going back to ‘your place’.

So, you thought about starting your research there and were greeted with a correct suspicion since the feeling intensified as you moved through the garden to reach the wood, and when you entered, Duncan’s presence was heavy onto you, but you didn’t see him anywhere.

Then the wolf appeared from nowhere.

You knew Duncan’s wolf form, because when you were younger, him and his friend would get drunk and turn into wolves, since they didn’t have control on themselves anymore, and even if it was extremely dangerous, they wouldn’t do much more than sleep the hangover off.

And many times, you had been the one onto who Duncan had slept the hangover off.

The reason why your father didn’t like Duncan was because many times you hadn’t come home, just to help Duncan through this.

He thought at first, when you had simply shrugged it off of passing the night at Duncan’s house, that you were having sex, and with you being his only daughter, and his wolfish instincts being extremely protective, he had dreaded the thought of Duncan deflowering you.

But he understood that many girls your age went through these experiences, and that it would be extremely overbearing of him of stopping you from doing your own experiences, on your own.

And then one day, he had caught you trying to get an half-wolf Duncan to his house, and that night it was the first time you had thoroughly fought and it was the first and last time that you had felt like you were different also from him.

‘… he might hurt you! Werewolves are already difficult when they turn, fucking smashed and turned isn’t a good combo!’.

‘He loves me dad, he wouldn’t hurt me!’.

You thoroughly knew that you had sounded like a drama queen.

‘What you don’t understand is that witches will be for ever werewolves’ enemies! He might not reason and hurt you, thinking you are the fucking enemy! Why can’t you just understand it and be fucking normal!’.

You hadn’t talked with him for a month because of that.

But this was all to say that you quickly recognized Duncan’s wolf shape and weren’t afraid in the slightest till you saw him launching himself towards you, looking like he had seen a prey.

You tried to distance yourself, but the mate bond anchored you in place, alongside the confusing emotions crashing through your head, holding you in a hypnotizing grip and making you almost sick.

And definitely unable to move away, Duncan launched himself against you, pushing you to the ground.

He didn’t only weight, effectively stealing your breath, but he also started trying to scratch your neck, which you covered, raising your arms and swiftly being cut by his paws, a scream of pain exiting your mouth, meanwhile you tried to conjure any kind of strength to push him off with your legs.

With magic it would have been easy, had you been able to focus on anything else that wasn’t losing your life and for the first time in your whole life, you were afraid of Duncan: he had lost the control of himself and lost himself in the wolf.

“Duncan… shit… get over it!” you tried, hoping that your voice would have some effect on him, but he kept his attack, even growling at you and showing you his sharp teeth, meanwhile you tried to kick him back, finally understanding why your father had been so damn worried “… I am (Y/N), your mate, you stubborn asshole”.

This somehow got him to stop his actions and you landed effectively a kick that sent him away, enough to hold your breath, meanwhile you murmured and enchantment of protection, although maybe you should have tended to the gashes on your arms, blood dripping copiously from them.

You definitely felt light-headed, but had to deal with Duncan first, who was squealing on the ground, in pain, not only for your kick, but because you felt himself shifting through his wolf form, and back to his human one.

You went from a state of confusion to embarrassment as Duncan appeared on the ground, naked.

Certainly, something had grown in ten years.

Focus, (Y/N).

“… you fucking ass” you muttered under your breath, meanwhile Duncan rolled onto his side, painfully pushing his knees onto his stomach, in a fetal position.

You knew that the transformation, mostly if happening suddenly, was extremely painful and certainly took quite some time

Enough that you retreated to get a blanket for him, knowing that some senses were dulled, meanwhile others were intensified, and you wanted him to keep some semblance of modesty.

As you covered him he seemed to completely get himself back, breathing deeply, spitting out earth, probably eaten in his wolf-journey.

“… that sucked” he mumbled, gently curling around the cover, instinctively hiding himself under it, for which you were thankful.

“You have probably pissed the ghosts haunting the house” you replied, although you were sure he wouldn’t understand your humor, meanwhile he adjusted himself in a sitting position.

“I thought you said this place wasn’t haunted, when we came!” he surprised you, actually remembering the past and effectively making you blush.

“… I might have lied” no you knew that the place wasn’t haunted, because you had actually been at haunted place and this didn’t peg you as such.

He sent you a terrorized look, highly exaggerated, that made you erupt in a laughter, one that hadn’t happened in a long time, making Duncan join quickly, although he kept his gaze onto you, as if he wasn’t truly amused by your laugh, but he was enamored with it.

You managed to led him to your car, barely covered by the simple blanket.

“Can’t believe that the old man let you drive this” mumbled Duncan looking around, and probably remembering that time, during that month of not talking, when you had stolen the key of your father’s precious vintage car, just to run away with Duncan and to decide to come back by dawn.

Your father was waiting for you on the threshold and had immediately hugged you.

“… it was either me or destroying it” you mumbled, meanwhile you quickly turned the ignition on, and pushed the manual brakes, you tried not to crush because you were unfocused, due to Duncan’s presence.

“I would have gotten it destroyed…” he joked, and you jabbed him with a slight push onto his shoulder “… you do remember that time we almost crashed against a tree, because you had forgotten the brakes”.

“You were kissing me, you were the one who almost got us to crash against a tree” you replied, shooting him a meaningful look, which got a playful glint in his eyes “…where can I bring you?”.

“My apartment, the one outside the city” he explained, his gaze suddenly shifting in front of the horizon, which got you a bit sad, for him, because he clearly looked like he was going through a rough period, and you knew how much they would bring you down.

“Don’t you have some friend or ex-girlfriend who doesn’t hate you, where I could drop you off?” you asked trying to keep your tone neutral, and your gaze on the road “… you have just gone through an unscheduled transition, it isn’t good for you to be alone”.

“Well the fact is that I actually want to be alone…” his tone didn’t admit any reply, but you didn’t allow him to stay that way.

“… I am not leaving you alone, right now, Duncan, I might not like you, but you look like you went through hell and I am not leaving you alone, ok?”.

“You don’t have to worry about me” his tone was almost whine-y and you turned around just swiftly to make sure he knew that you were meaning what you said.

“I don’t worry about you, but you are a nice Sheriff and I don’t want to have to deal with Annette” at the mention of the mother, Duncan’s mouth straightened in a thin line, but he simply nodded, surrendering to your idea, meanwhile he shifted on the opposite part of his car seat.

He seemed almost sleepy and when you opened the door to help him out, he was slightly startled but didn’t accept your hand to move out, which honestly annoyed you, but you tried not to show it

You cast some more protection spells all around your house, since you thought that Duncan might not like being caught half-naked, walking in his enemy’s house.

“Sat down on the sofa, I am getting you some clothes and towels so that you can shower a bit, you smell of shit”.

“I might have stepped on some, in the forest” his tone was apologetic, and although you wanted to keep on being pissed with him, you just shook your head and moved to collect some of your father’s clothes and some towels, which you left in the bathroom.

You didn’t have to show Duncan the way, since he seemed to remember it

After your father had accepted your relationship with Duncan, he had suggested that instead of getting drunk and crashing yourself against trees, you stayed at home when he had meetings of the Council.

Once your father had gotten himself over the ‘you are deflowering my daughter’ phase, he had seemed to be finally able to accept Duncan, who he had treated as a son, and Duncan had seemed to appreciate the treatment, since he, himself, didn’t have a strong father figure.

You had lost your virginity on one of those nights, when your father was away from the Council: you still remembered Duncan having stolen a bottle of awful red wine, paired badly with pizza and fries, but you hadn’t cared, mostly because you had loved him so so much by that time (you now blamed the wine), and after the dinner had lead him to your room, gently kissing him, meanwhile he treated you like a princess.

It had been awkward and painful, you didn’t want to lie.

Although Duncan had had more experience, it hadn’t prepared you both from what had been going down, but at the end of the night, you hadn’t cared and you had simply loved him with all your heart and had told him, receiving no answer.

Again, you hadn’t cared.

Your sixteen year old-self was an idiot.

Meanwhile you were thinking this, you were startled by the low whistle of your teapot, signaling that your water for the tea was ready and Duncan appeared in a simple white shirt and blue sweatpants on the threshold, probably startled by the teapot like you.

“Can I help you?”.

A thrill due to the cold air in your house went down your spine, probably due with all the time you had spent outside of it, and since it was pretty big and you lived alone, it wasn’t the nicest and definitely not the warmest.

“... can you start a fire, in the chimney?”.

He didn’t reply, getting himself to work and quickly moving away, already onto the little wardrobe where wood for the chimney was stored, meanwhile you collected the good silverware for the tea, knowing that Duncan wasn’t used to anything else.

“Do you want something to eat?”.

“My stomach is still trouble, but thank you for your offer” he replied immediately, meanwhile you brought the tea service in the room, already warmed up by the gentle cradling of the fireplace, where Duncan was setting up the latest logs of wood, and met you halfway onto the sofa.

He assumed a relaxed position on it, meanwhile you kept onto its handle, pushing your favorite mug in your hand, after you had offered one to Duncan, who sniffled it suspiciously.

“… what is it?” he asked, meanwhile you just gazed at him wickedly.

“A potion to make you forget who you are” although you were obviously joking, Duncan gawked at you, before you slumped a big gulp of whatever was in your mug ��… it’s green tea idiot”.

Corrected with honey.

Duncan looked at you ashamed, and swiftly gulped down also a big drink, effectively burning his tongue and splutter half the tea on your floor, meanwhile you giggled.

“That is what you get for thinking that I would trick you in my home” you giggled giddy, strangely feeling like you had come back to when you and Duncan were nothing more than lovers “… that would mean too much trouble: can you imagine having to drag your body out… and again I don’t want to deal with Annette…”.

Duncan’s gaze shadowed and he quickly turned away, also pushing himself onto the handle of the sofa.

“Annette is not my real mother”.

Shock went through you, because you knew it was the truth, although Duncan hid his eyes from you.

You had never thought that whatever him and Annette had was something healthy, but you had always thought that you might not have been fair with her mostly because she had never liked you before, but it was extremely obsessive the way they looked for the other.

So, you knew perfectly how much it must have hurt Duncan.

“… I… didn’t know, Duncan” it was you who moved towards the middle, meanwhile Duncan pushed down on the table the mug, and hid his face turning it to the opposite side.

“Neither did I” his tone beheld anger and sadness and regret, all mixed together and it broke your heart, even more because you knew perfectly how he felt, because of the mate bond “… Claire, our opposition in the clan reunions brought up the fact that I needed to ask with Annette about ‘where I come from’. And I did, thinking that maybe my mother had cheated on my father… or… he had cheated on her… and… no, it turned out I am the maid’s son, she took over, because my real mother couldn’t take care of me”.

The Shepherds had never been the picture-perfect family, although they resembled it strongly, but you understood that this kind of revelation might have had a truly devastating effect on Duncan, who gently pushed himself onto his feet.

“… it was a bad idea to remain here” he mumbled, but you stopped him shooting out your hand to grab his effectively.

“She might not be your biological mother, but this doesn’t change that she brought up as her son, that is what makes family: we chosen to love another, no matter the fact that it’ll make us suffer”.

Your father had done it.

Your mother hadn’t.

So, you knew what Duncan was going through, you had been there.

“You don’t understand!” he shot back angered, his grip on your hand becoming painful and you felt that the violence had brought the cuts to open your mind, since it brought back the memories of the pain and your magic couldn’t hold it back “I am not a true Shepherd! I am just some fake nobody… now I understand why Bill said ‘I wasn’t one of them’ “.

You would have gladly punched Bill in that moment.

You would have gladly punched Billy in any moment.

“Duncan you are not being reasonable” you tried to calm him down, mostly because you didn’t want him to turn back, since it could be dangerous for his body and because the anger festering in the mate bond was making you sick and weak.

“Well… you wouldn’t be reasonable too, if you had discovered that all your life was a lie” he sputtered back, and you had enough.

“Well…. I did” you had enough “… I met my mother in a club of New Orleans, I knew it was her, because dad had a photograph of her, and one night, when I was out I found her… I thought that maybe she would have recognized me, she knew something about me… because dad kept sending her letters, but to her… I wasn’t nothing more than a stranger… did it hurt like my heart was being ripped form my heart? Fucking yes, I was the blood of her womb… and she wished I never existed. But I had my father”.

Duncan was looking at you in the eyes as if he was shocked: you had never talked about your mother, and it was as if you hadn’t ever cared about her, and Duncan had never asked: he hadn’t expected you to have such a complex relationship.

“… I never knew”.

“We weren’t on speaking terms for ten years, Duncan” you didn’t want this to weight on him “:..I know that this might be heavy on you, but you don’t have to forget about anything else, and the people around you. Annette might not be your mother, but she loves you…”.

“I just…” he huffed, lightly and you brought his hand in a gentle hold.

“You don’t have to be ok, I know it’ll take time, but you have me…” and you realized that you had let him see much more than your usual detached personality “… and others I am sure, now please let’s not talk about family anymore, ok?”

“Ok” he gently sit back in the sofa, comfortably snuggled against you, in the usual position you assumed as teenagers to cuddle, meanwhile a sudden embarrass washed over you, two, and you were almost thankful when blood appeared on your shirt and stained your sweater.

Duncan sniffled it immediately.

“Are you bleeding?” he asked, worried, before he reached for your arms, gently taking it in his hands so that he could examine it, and he raised your sweater, quickly revealing the gruesome cuts you had tried to heal with magic, although healing spells weren’t your favorite “Was I the one who did this? Shit, (N/N) I am so sorry…”.

You hadn’t heard that name in so long and that was probably why you were unable to react as Duncan quickly rushed out to get the first aid kid.

You had been the one who handled more bruises between the two, but Duncan knew where to get it, also, because mostly it held the pills you took on your period, when cramps hurt your body and you were unable to even get up to collect them.

The cut had stopped bleeding when Duncan walked in, worry shadowing his eyes, meanwhile he extremely delicately patched you up and you were only able to gawk at him, and when you shook yourself out of that, you just muttered.

“… I can heal myself, Duncan, you don’t have to….”.

“First of all… I know that I don’t have to, but I want to, and secondly, let me adjust what I broke…” his gaze became gently shy and almost sad, melancholy staring at you “… at least for what I can”.

You knew he was referring to the fact that had happened so many years ago, when he had broken your heart.

The one reason why, although your heart was shouting at you to kiss him and hug him and cuddle away his sadness, as you had always done when you were together, you just couldn’t.

You didn’t trust him.

You were definitely expecting him to break up your heart again.

“… it isn’t easy” you mumbled, as if you owed him an explanation.

“I know” he replied, looking at you in the eyes “… we were idiots”.

“You were an idiot” you retorted, kicking his shin lightly “… I was an amazing teenager”.

“You don’t obviously remember your mood swings, sweetheart” his reply got him another kick in his shins, which got him to improve his point, and giggle.

“You have lost your ‘sweetheart privileges’ a long time ago” you initiated the pillow fight, hitting him, meanwhile he put away the cotton wetted with alcohol to clean your wounds, to avoid a disaster, pushing you away, not even trying to fight to defend himself from you.

In the end Duncan stayed for the night, after you dined (and Duncan showed all his hunger basically eating up anything that you had in your fridge).

You wished each other ‘goodnight’s and moved away to your room and the guest room, respectively,, with Duncan almost joking that he was ‘in the doghouse’.

‘You are a dog, wherever you go, it’s a doghouse’ you had replied slamming the door against his face, and slowly slumping against him, as if you were Donna from “Mamma Mia” having faced your three ex-lovers.

You didn’t have three ex-lovers, but Duncan could be as complicated as three.

For the entirety of your staying in DC, you had been able to keep your distance, but right now… that you were faced with him in his most vulnerable state…

No, no you couldn’t just give up.

He had lied to you.

And what would stop him from doing that again?

Maybe the entire ‘my dearest mommy doesn’t trust me’ story was just a lie to get him to trust you…

But some part deep in you knew that you he wasn’t lying.

You got yourself ready for bed, and tried to ignore the ache in your body that the ‘fight’ with Duncan had awakened with you and wasn’t letting you sleep, no matter the fact that you pushed a pillow between your legs to sooth the ache between them.

A few minutes in it and you were rubbing yourself against the pillow, pathetically humping it.

You hadn’t been this horny since you were sixteen.

Your fight with your horny-self ended up being interrupted by a quick knocking on your door.

Was Duncan in need of you to help him settle in bed?

“(Y/N)” Duncan’s voice surprised you since it was extremely husky and hoarse and you wondered whether he had had a nightmare and had waken up from it.

“Do you need a fairytale before going to sleep” you tried to brighten up the atmosphere, getting up from the bed and readjusting your elegant vintage nightgown, a gift for your birthday from Madison.

But before you unlocked the door, you felt a light tap against it, and Duncan growled through the door, mumbling a ‘don’t open’.

“I need to leave, (Y/N)” he simply commented, surprising you.

“Duncan, you are not in a good mood…”.

“Well now I am one ever worse” he uttered annoyed “… I just entered a heat”.

Oh.

Shit.

Heats were something adult werewolves went through at least three times a year and usually they were more due to external events than truly the need to impregnant their fertile mates, mostly stress and hormones, alongside also age and their rhythm of life.

“… turning this sudden and away from the full moon might have triggered it and being this close to my mate is not a good thing, alongside you not wanting me here, in this state…”.

Which was true, because heats meant that werewolves wouldn’t stop till their females were pregnant and you barely were able to stay in the same room with Duncan without hurling sarcasm at him.

“… I still would feel better if you might stay here” because heats made your mind hazy, alongside the fact that you didn’t want him to truly leave.

Maybe it was your body simply reacting to heat, but you wanted so desperately to open the door for him, and let him in.

Even if you know this might end up with you heartbroken…

And if you did end up being heartbroken you might get some nice sex out of it.

Hadn’t Duncan lost his touch.

You slowly opened the door, revealing a rather confused Duncan looking at you behind pleasure-hooded eyes, darkened by desire and some kind of bestial ferocity that sent molten liquid down the little nest between your legs.

And with the way he sniffled the air, you knew he knew.

“Go back, inside, (Y/N)” he ordered, but you just shifted closer, meanwhile he crouched down in the ground, to set some distance between you two “… I can’t control myself, I’ll hurt you”.

“Oh, you already did” you said lowering yourself to his level and pushing your face next to his “… but what is the worst that this big bad wolf could do to a girl he has already hurt?”.

And before you could take in everything that was happening, he slammed you against the door of your room.

He looked at you as if he wanted to eat you.

You should have been afraid.

But you just felt excitement coursing through your veins.

And then Duncan kissed you.

You still remembered back in the day when you were teens and Duncan wasn’t the best kisser you had had: nothing too bad, he just rushed the entire process and didn’t let you enjoy all the sensations, but at the time you hadn’t minded, too taken in your conviction of wanting please him desperately.

But apparently Duncan had grown out of it, because he kissed you indeed with ferocity, but tasting you in the earnest pushing himself to explore you in a slow and sloppy way, as if he wanted to enjoy each and different part of your mouth, meanwhile he gently kept you against the door, his hand coming to your waist and pushing you against the door, meanwhile he rubbed himself against you.

He didn’t rut into you as he had done previously, although you didn’t hate those moments: they made you feel wanted and desired.

But this kind of growth he had had, seemed pretty promising, making you whine softly against his mouth.

He stole your breath with these kisses till his arms came around your legs, pushing them against your waist and raising slightly your nightgown, the only barrier of fabric against you, alongside your panties and his sweatpants.

“… I might be a beast, but I want to fuck you on a proper bed” he commented as soon as he realized how far the things had gone, pushing you down and gently entangling your hands together, by which you led him inside your room, almost feeling ashamed of the mess in it.

(And hoping he wouldn’t see all the clues you had collected about your father’s death).

You turned around and he was again upon you, and his hands went to your nightgown, pushing on it and you immediately got the hint, not wanting him to rip it, since it costed a small fortune and you quite liked it, throwing it onto the chair of your dressing table, moving to also retrieve his shirt.

There was a new intimacy between you, although Duncan’s gaze was purely animalistic.

As if you were rediscovering your bodies for the first time since forever.

As you brought your hands to remove Duncan’s shirt, they burned a path in his skin, caressing the soft planes of the defined skin, lightly peppered with brown and dark hair, ending in a happy trail that you followed till Duncan had enough.

He pushed you, almost shoving you in it, onto the bed, then before you knew it, he started worshipping your breasts.

Again, the comparison with your youth years was unavoidable: back in the day, Duncan had certainly liked your breasts, but he had never given them much attention, mostly tweaking them to help you reach your climax, but they had never been the main interest of Duncan, as he did right now, pushing his head between them and gently caressing them, before kneading them in his big hands.

And when he went to push a ripe nipple in his mouth, he looked at you in the eyes, as if he wanted to make sure that you watched him, completely hypnotized by the way his tongue swirled against you erect pebble, meanwhile he gently kneaded the other one.

He gave it one last tug with his teeth, making you arch in the bed, your pelvis searching his, but he pushed you down with a quick move of his hip, meanwhile the hand that wasn’t working on your nipples, went to your neck, giving it a slight pressure, so that you knew who was in charge.

He then moved his mouth on the other nipple, and you were gone, with your hands clawing the sheet, meanwhile the pleasure became too intense and you were brought back only by again a harsh bite that Duncan donned onto your hip.

It was rather harsh and you saw the mark blooming lightly in you skin, which got you to shoot him a confused and angered look, since you weren’t his mate… which you were, but you just wanted sex, not any claim.

He didn’t have any claim on you.

And he smirked at you like a little shit, before his fingers teased you over the lacey panties you had worn, deep blue and nothing special, but you hadn’t expected to be out of the house, hence…

But Duncan didn’t seem to mind.

“… shit you are fucking drenched” which you were, but you refused to look at him in the eyes, since you didn’t want to confirm or deny that, knowing that your cunt spoke louder than you did “… and I am the one in heat”.

“I am kicking you out, if you are just going to make fun of me” you mumbled, grunting lowly as he pushed a finger through the fabric, gently caressing your next, his skin against yours.

“I’ll be a gentleman” he smirked, showing you his elongated canines, and you just rolled his eyes as he pushed your body down the bed, as if you were nothing more than a motionless doll.

And he eased himself onto his elbow and before you knew it, he dipped a long lick onto your covered folds, making you buck into his face, suffocating his giggle, that send vibrations in your core.

Duncan hadn’t ever been truly attentive at your needs, and although this wasn’t the first time he had eaten you up, as with your breasts, it had been just to get ready for him, but as he dived more broad licks over your covered cunt, it seemed that he was doing it more because he liked to have you contorting against the bed than because he wanted to get you ready to take his length, with brushed against your bed, as he pounded lightly against it.

His heat getting the best of him.

He finally decided to stop the teasing and pushed your panties down your legs, and with the way he brushed against your legs, he left little thrills in their wake, which he knew, since he smirked at you as a self-assured bastard, before kissing you as he held your panties in his fingers.

This kiss was a debauchery in itself, Duncan languidly moving his mouth in an open-mouthed kiss, dipping it lightly between your lips, before he asked forgiveness, gently licking your lips, leaving you breathless and trembling, not knowing what was going on between you two.

You couldn’t help but feel cherished and loved.

Too bad it was just for a night.

And as he continued to kiss you so languidly, you were startled when he dipped his fingers in you, at first just his knuckle and you bit down on his bottom lip, enough to draw blood, more out of the surprise than because you wanted to.

But Duncan didn’t seem to mind.

He licked the blood, smirking at you, as his finger slipped even more in you, making you breath lightly, almost withholding your breath in your mouth, and then he proceeded to smear some on your cheeks, before he licked it, slipping his finger at its fullest in you.

And there, your hands immediately came onto his back and clawed onto his back, to grab onto something meanwhile pleasurable desire ran in your veins and this was enough for Duncan to lose the control, his finger curling into you, meanwhile he pushed himself away from your hold, dipping his head between your thighs.

You closed them immediately, feeling ashamed of how loose you had been: suddenly you were a sixteen-year-old again and you were letting your boyfriend see you naked for the first time.

You had never felt self-conscious since you had come back: you were one of those “puberty hit her” stories, but with Duncan in such an intimate situation, you couldn’t help but think about each thing he might notice about your body.

“It’s like you have never changed…” his nose slipping between your folds, sniffling your delicious smell, meanwhile he tried to force your legs apart, and gently you gave out under his praise “… and at the same time you are completely different”.

You turned your head to the side, ashamed, but you didn’t miss Duncan’s following words.

“I fucking want to discover you again, sweetheart”.

And then he dipped as a starved animal between your legs, his finger never retreating meanwhile his tongue teased your folds, before his mouth enveloped your clit.

Your head became dizzy by all the stimuli going through your body and you tried to breath, meanwhile Duncan made it harder and harder for you to focus, your eyes shifting closed from the heavenly vision of Duncan’s lips drenched with your juices, meanwhile your thighs became reddish, mostly in their inner’s part for his beard.

You were sure you would also have some pretty evident marks, with the way he tightened the hold onto your thighs, and although it wasn’t painful, the pressure kept you anchored to the ground.

You were thoroughly thankful for whoever had taught Duncan those techniques.

All it took for you to come was Duncan gently pushing another finger into you, scissoring them, in a delicious stretch that made you arch your body against the mattress, meanwhile you mewled heavenly and when you thought that you had reached the extreme pleasure, he curled his fingers in you and you shot up, feeling extremely sensitive, and at the same time detached from your body.

You were floating in a sea of sensation that came crashing through your body, and you fell hardly, and worst of all, feeling yourself leave some kind of moisture between your thighs, which shone brightly onto Duncan’s face.

Again, feeling sixteen and having had sex for the first time, you blushed scrunching your face away from Duncan, who just smirked, moving a hand to his face to collect your juices.

“Fucking taste like honey” he muttered, making you turn away from him, but he obliged you to face him and he kissed you, sharing some of your more intimate secrets with you, and you had to admit that you did taste like honey.

With an accent of cinnamon.

“… do you…?” usually when Duncan ate out to you, you would return the favor, but he just pushed you down the bed, making you giggle at his eagerness, definitely heightened by your taste.

“No, I need to fucking have you” and his hand stormed to your nightstand, expecting to find condoms, just to be surprised by your collection of hair ties “… shit, I don’t have any on me”.

“I am clean and on birth control” you muttered, meanwhile you guided Duncan’s hand down your body, till it met the wetness seeping again through you, making him growl “… and I know that you must be pristine clear to avoid any scandal”.

He nodded, and seemed sincere, but you also had again other protection spells for that and casted one under your breath, making Duncan roll his eyes, but he continued softly rubbing you, before he kissed you gently, laying a few good kisses between anything that stood in his path from your neck to collarbones.

“… do you need a spell to get it up?” you joked, seeing his hesitance and you weren’t ready for what would happen next.

Duncan pushed himself against you, through his sweatpants and you understood that he definitely didn’t need your help.

“Keep on teasing me, sweetheart and I’ll fuck the brat out of you” he threatened you, nipping your neck, before he pushed back just to relieve himself of his pants.

He was definitely smug that you were again surprised by his length.

“You ego isn’t the only thing that grew” you mumbled, and he gently pushed you against the bed, till you hit the headpiece with your back and he smirked, pushing you in order for you to sit on his laps, brushing your slit with his length in a teasing motion that brought you to complain with moans and beg him with your eyes.

“You must be truly desperate if you are begging me like this, begging your mortal enemy”.

“I liked you when you were less cocky” you replied, punching his chest and he caught your hand as he suddenly realized that you would be hitting again and brought you gently in a soft kiss, meanwhile he pushed you so that you were hovering over his length.

And as he connected your lips, he pushed into you.

And you moaned loudly in the kiss, making him smirk, meanwhile he gave you enough time to adjust to his length, which you did closing your eyes and trying to focus on the sensation.

The stretch in this case was definitely more painful, and you had to take a few minutes to relax around him and when you did…

… Duncan gave you all he had.

He pounded in you, making your hips buckle up and your ass bounce up, meanwhile you attempted to ride him, although you didn’t have much power over him and was just able to push your nails onto his arm, meanwhile you tried to steady your body.

He was gently stimulating your clit, with the brush of his pelvis against it, but he still wasn’t hitting your deepest point, mostly because his thrust were faster than actually shallow, enough to make you feel pleasure, but you were stuck in a limbo.

And Duncan seemed to see it.

Not even breaking a sweat, he changed the pace, and suddenly his thrust were more shallow, focusing on penetrating you further in a slower rhythm, that got you to truly see the stars, and this time you had to hug his torso to still yourself, moaning and leaving open-mouthed kiss onto his burning skin.

He pushed away the hair from your face and gently pushed further into you, pulling on your hair and before you knew it, you were shoved onto the mattress, with your stomach on it, as Duncan entered you form behind, pulling onto his hair, and making you finally remember that he was in fucking heat.

This way the angle he could hit was definitely deeper not to talk about the fact that he had lost himself in an extremely dangerous rhythm that made you feel like you were losing your own mind, hazy by pleasure and barely feeling the pain in your back for the hurtful position.

“You are eating me up perfectly” commented Duncan “… I can’t wait to fill you, fucking breed your womb”.

You were startled by his words and also Duncan seemed to understand he might have gone far, stilling in his thrusts, and this got you to breath and formulate a coherent thought.

“… I am sorry”.

“This doesn’t exit the bedroom” your tone was dead serious “… but I liked it”.

“You were always kinkier than I thought” he grinned, pushing again back into you, his hips slapping harshly your ass, as he pushed himself to kiss your shoulder, in a stranger comforting way, meanwhile you felt him twitch in you “… daddy’s little girl is a little whore, isn’t she?”.

“Shut up, little werewolf” your protest was weak, since you were nearing your own end and when you finally did, it felt even more explosive than the previous one you had had, mostly because now it was definitely much stronger.

You felt your walls clenching Duncan’s cock and he wasn’t much behind you, joining in the mind-blowing orgasm, not only his knot effectively swelling in yourself and his cum pushing itself in you, some even dripping outside your thighs.

And the sensation of it was almost too much in your ecstasy filled brain and you almost felt like blacking out a bit.

When you finally came down, you managed to collect yourself, feeling suddenly a heavy body on yours, realizing that Duncan had fallen onto your back, also a bit overtaken by the pleasure, enough to forget his surroundings, like you.

And he was only brought back by you pinching him, which got him to almost kick you for the startle and you giggled softly, your voice hoarse after sex.

He mumbled a little threat, with no bite, before he kissed and turned you around so that he could hug you, keeping himself sheathed inside him, since he had to wait for the knot to disappear.

“… you have gotten better” you mumbled softly, meanwhile you hid yourself in the crook of his night, and he laid a soft kiss on your forehead.

These weren’t the gestures two friends had for each other, only lovers acted like that.

But you knew you could never be that again.

“… and you haven’t changed deep deep down” he commented brushing your hair away in a soothing way, meanwhile you felt both your lids heavy for the tiredness, drifting into a peaceful slumber “… still the little girl who taunted and teased me”.

You thought that the words that followed were just because of your slumber.

“… the same girl… I loved”

[tessatechaitea]

Kid Eternity #2

This cover says, "Don't look at who wrote it! Just look at how interesting these visuals are! Sucker."

In my review of Kid Eternity #1, I threw out a few theories on why Ann Nocenti's writing is so weird. After reading page one of this issue, I've thrown those theories out again but in a different way. That makes complete sense if you understand English idioms and also understand that everything Ann Nocenti writes is basically pre-trash.

This is page one of Kid Eternity #2 and it will probably get this review banned on Tumblr.

I have a new theory: Ann Nocenti asked what a Vertigo comic book should be and editor Tom Peyer probably joked, "They're mostly tits and profound nonsense." So Ann Nocenti's vagina gobbed in her underwear and she squealed with glee. "That's what I do!" she chortled merrily! I probably shouldn't abuse Ann Nocenti for writing things I don't understand. I have plenty of choices of other people to abuse for it: my elementary school teachers for not calling me out on doing just enough to get by; my junior high school teachers who let me get away with not putting any effort into big year-end projects (In science, we were supposed to make a stone age tool. I rubber glued a carved-to-a-shoddy point stick to another stick (which was worse than my friend Robert who put some pine needles into a split stick, calling the weapon "Ow"); in English, we had one project based on Romeo and Juliet (because all we did that quarter was watch and read various versions of the play) and I refused to do it because the teacher was wasting my time; in Computers, I found Dan Felipe's project, a trivia program, and I just copied it and used it for my own project (changing all the questions and line numbers and other things to make it seem like it wasn't plagiarized but, I mean, come on! In fairness to me, I only did it because the stupid fucking school changed computers halfway through the semester, dropping the TRS-80s for Apples and my project was relying on the Poke images of the TRS-80 to create an animated sequence)); my high school English teacher, Mr. Borror, for reading nearly everything I wrote in front of the class so that I began to think I was the wittiest fucker in Santa Clara High; my college teachers for some reason or another that allows me to not blame my own lack of ability; and probably my parents because if they were any good at their parental jobs, I wouldn't be writing a blog about comic books. In other words, I'm sure Ann Nocenti is a philosophical genius while I'm just a guy who blames everybody else for things I don't understand. Even if I truly felt Ann Nocenti was an underrated genius whose writings I'm incapable of parsing, I would never ask her to explain what she meant by this first page of Kid Eternity #2. I just wouldn't feel comfortable putting her on the spot like that. It's not up to the artist to explain their art to the foolish audience! Only the Christian Messiah bears that responsibility (and, let's face it, he wouldn't have had to explain every fucking parable if he'd been able to convince smarter people of his bullshit). So if it's up to me to interpret this first page gibber gabber, I suppose I should get to business. Or kill myself. I mean, killing myself would be easier and less painful. And I totally would kill myself before reading more Ann Nocenti comic books except I have plans to cut my toenails in a few months. Before I begin trying to understand this hogwash, I'd like to point out that if she'd written it as a sonnet, I wouldn't have a problem with it. I'd read it, think, "Yep, that's a sonnet!", nod my head in sage understanding, and then jerk off to the titties. But this is not a sonnet so it is not allowed to be obtuse simply for obtuseness' sake. So this fucking speech. First off, who is speaking? The serpent trying to fuck the naked lady? Is this the speech the serpent used on Eve to get her to eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? Although if that's the case, how would talking about Buddha convince Eve of anything? I'll assume the serpent is omniscient (because he may or may not be Satan, depending on what holy men or con artists you believe but certainly isn't Satan if you're simply going by the Book of Genesis. I bet the serpent was God doing one of those Zeus things minus the rape. Zeus loved to trick people so he could get laid; Yahweh tricks people to test their faith). I guess since she had yet to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil (come on, God! That name is terrible), she wouldn't know what she doesn't know and can't defend against any nonsense the serpent spews at her. Let's assume the art goes with the speech and it's the serpent speaking. So why is "God in repair" and what the fuck does that mean? And why is it followed by the statement, "Why not call the wisest man a freak?" Does the snake only speak in non sequiturs? Was that a stupid question since I already know the snake's dialogue is being written by Ann Nocenti? It is kind of refreshing to see that her dialogue style never changed in thirty years. The shit the serpent says on this page could be nonsense spewed by Coil from Nocenti's New 52 Katana. You know what? I don't have to continue this because, in the end, it's just a carnival barker's pitch to get people to believe in the freaks in his freak show. He's all, "What's the difference between freaks and religion?!" That's not a riddle I have an answer for. The only religious joke I know is "What do Noah's Ark and The Bible have in common?" That might be a joke that was extant before I came up with it but I did come up with it on my own. And I think the answer is so obvious I would be insulting the intelligence of all four people reading this. Oh, and the snake trying to fuck the lady? It's a tattoo on the Tattooed Lady. The reason the comic begins in a circus freak show? Because Kid Eternity is the newest freak on display! The opening sideshow scene is just one of Kid Eternity's dreams. The demon angel babies get into Kid Eternity's dream and when he wakes up, they've tied his hair to the floor which totally has him trapped for like three panels. That was a close one! Kid Eternity decides he can't truly know what he's doing unless he utterly knows himself. So it's time to get his brain probed.

Let me guess: Carl will blather on about synchronicity and dreams while Freud tries to figure out how big Kid Eternity's penis is.

Carl doesn't initially discuss anything. He's just the straight man for Freud saying all the typical things you'd expect Freud to say: penis this, envy that, fuck your mom, kill your dad, more penises, many more penises, everything is penises. But then he comes on fast and furious with his archetypes and collective unconscious and human mythology stuff, all the biggest Carl Jung hits (aside from synchronicity but I'm sure he'll get around to that later. Ann Nocenti isn't going to miss showing the readers all the knowledge nuggets she mined to make her brain big). If only Nocenti would spend as much time writing the story as she spends making sure the readers know she knows a lot of shit then maybe I would have kept reading this comic book. Meanwhile, Zeus wanders around looking for somebody to trick fuck, Madame Blavatsky hunts down the next best burger before she slips back to the past, Beelzebub and Judas wander through Limbo, Jesus gets drunk and falls off a bar stool, and a phone yells at a woman. That all happens on one page to make sure the reader remembers other things are happening. But why does Ann Nocenti spend two panels of that dense page on Madame Blavatsky when she could have updated the reader on the non-X-File FBI agents who will probably hate fuck each other before the story ends? I also wanted an update on the Buddha Christ Trash Child. But no! Instead Nocenti just moves on to more of her proof that she's read all about Freud and Jung and totally understands the shallow top layer of their theories and philosophies. I don't mean to say I know any more than Ann Nocenti! But I understand how little I know of Freud and everything she's had him say are things everybody knows about Freud from all the dirty jokes about him: ids, supermen, parental relations, and phalli!

Oh, that's why we didn't get an update on the dense update page; Nocenti needed a full page to document the hate/fuck.

My new Ann Nocenti writing theory: Ann Nocenti has never had an original thought. She simply reads things, takes copious notes of bits and quotes she likes, and then shoves them sideways into whatever script she's currently writing. No wait. She does have original thoughts but they're almost not worth having. Like "everything in life is a prison" and then proving it by stating a few things about life that can be cell-like. It's profound in that way that things are profound when you're on acid. If you don't think about it, you can find yourself nodding along going, "Yeah! Yeah! Everything is a prison! Life is a fucking prison!" But if you do stop to think about it, it's like coming down off acid. You start to see how that thought you had about how the number three ties everything else in the universe together because of the way the corners meet didn't wasn't as mind blowing as it was six hours ago. Although the rant you went on about how pressing play on the VCR remote play the show and pressing pause pauses it but then to unpause it you have to hit pause again when you should really hit play was pretty fucking good. Speaking of acid, I'm two-thirds of the way through the acid documentary on Netflix and it's fucking fantastic. I wasn't really thinking a lot about it but I was nodding along going, "Yeah! Yeah! Everything they're saying about acid is absolutely spot on!" throughout. I actually had to take a break because it was making me too happy listening to all Sting and Carrie Fisher tell their acid stories. I don't know why I didn't just spend five paragraphs discussing why the FBI agents were playing Scrabble while they fucked. It's probably just one of Sean Phillips' kinks. Oh, maybe they were just playing Scrabble and not hate-fucking. It's hard to tell because on the next page, Jerry asks Val if they can finally fuck and Val is all, "You're a nerd!" Then she slits his throat. But then in the next panel, his throat isn't slit and he's all, "You feeling better?" And she's all, "Yeah!" So I don't know what the fuck is going on and I don't really care. I've still got like eight pages of this mess to get through and I'd rather just nod along than try to understand it. And then just like last issue, Ann Nocenti sputters out a bit of writing that I totally agree with because I've said basically the same thing before. About how every day, I fall in love with some person I see on the street because of the smallest of things. And then I love them forever.

My story isn't as good but I once fell in love walking through the airport in Minneapolis. I was passing by an attractive woman and she was gazing off somewhere as I looked at her face. She was coming up on my right and then I glanced down at her breasts and back up at her face. And that was the moment she noticed me, as I glanced from her breasts to her face. And, catching me, she smiled and laughed and kept on walking. And I still love her to this day.

And for this page alone, I forgive all of Ann Nocenti's past (future?) transgressions and find myself eager to read Kid Eternity #3. Oh wait. I still have a few pages left in this piece of crap. I read a lot of books in college that I sometimes still say are my favorite books but I should probably just say they stuck with me because I know which books are almost always in my top five and a lot of the ones in college aren't those. But Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence always stuck with me. It's possible that I completely missed the message of the novel but to me, the book was about how true love only exists when it's unrequited. Archer Day-Lewis doesn't love Ellen Pfeifer more than May Ryder for any other reason than that she was the one he didn't marry. It seemed to me that Wharton was trying to portray how hard love is and true, phenomenal love only exists in the imagination. Only a love we can imagine can remain magical. Only when we love an object, or the imaginary person we've placed on a pedestal, can we evade disappointment in the reality and flaws of another actual human being. Being in love with Ellen Pfeifer was easy because she wasn't there for all those years. There were no fights or disappointments or multiple times accidentally walking in on her taking a huge shit. She was pure and beautiful and imaginary. But then again, maybe that wasn't the point of the book at all. I was young and romantic at the time and I still absolutely loved the women I'd had unrequited crushes on in junior high and high school while my college relationship was slowly circling the drain due to personality conflicts. But not due to sex. The sex was fucking great! Anyway, Freud and Jung decide Kid Eternity is in denial and they leave. Hemlock and Dog spread some new reality across the world via a computer virus. Madame Blavatsky starts making time go backwards, probably so she can vomit up all the Twinkies she ate and eat them again with their delicious creamy filling. And the devil and Judas wind up in a bar in Limbo with Jesus to make plans for Kid Eternity. There's probably a lot more going on but there'd be too much for me to process even if it wasn't confused by Nocenti's writing style. No wonder I gave up on this book after three issues. There's no way by the third issue I could remember anything that was going on, if I even understood it the month prior. Kid Eternity #2 Rating: C-. A confusing mess that's about 90% Ann Nocenti just vomiting out things she's read. Even the things that, with the benefit of the doubt, I want to believe sprang from her own philosophical musings, I can't bring myself to absolutely believe it. I feel like every thought and piece of dialogue she's placed in this story just came from piles of notebooks filled with notes she's made while reading other people's works. It's practically a collage of philosophical ideas and moral musings pulled from myriad sources and shoved into a Kid Eternity framework "written" by Ann Nocenti. Which could explain Nocenti's penchant for stilted dialogue. If she were making up all the character's thoughts, the dialogue would flow from one character to the next. But when each character can only respond with some profound thought Nocenti read elsewhere, it comes across like a ransom note, each word cut from the mind of somebody else and pasted as a reply to another bit cut from some other thinker, no relation existing between the two thoughts except the proximity relationship Nocenti has given them.

[umisabaku]

WHERE DO I READ THE AMERICAN FOOTBALL THAT KUROKO PLAYS IM SORRY THIS IS VERY SHOUTY BUT I AM VERY NEW TO YOUR WORK AND BLOG AND I LITERALLY LOVE ALL YOUR AUS AND WORLDBUILDING AND I AM VERY EXCITED ABOUT THE CHANCE TO READ MORE OF YOUR WORK THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A COMPLIMENT BUT I AM SO EXCITED THAT I CANT STOP TYPING IN ALL CAPS WOOHOO WHAT I AM SAYING IS THAT YOURE VERY TALENTED AND ID LOVE TO READ MORE OF YOUR THINGS XOXOXO

Haha, it’s on Archive of Our Own, anon-friend! I am very happy for your enthusiasm, so thank you for asking!

It was the very first fanfic I ever wrote and posted on ao3. When I re-read it, I feel like there are some rough edges to it, but I’m still exceedingly fond of it. I was coming out of a really bad place where I had the absolute lowest faith in my ability to write anything, and it was such an amazing discovery when I realized I still had stories I wanted to tell. I thought maybe there would be at least one person out there who would want to read a random Eyeshield 21/Kuroko no Basuke fanfic, which is why I posted it. I was so happy and excited when like, 3 people left comments and I had 20 kudos on the story. I think that initial reaction is the sole reason why I started writing Designation: Miracle. Woo it’s fun for me to look back on that origin.

So I very sincerely appreciate your enthusiastic uses of all-caps, anon-friend! Thank you for reading my stories and for wanting to read this one =)

[musicainextenso]

Interview with David Pulsford - Composer Portraits

This week Musica in Extenso is hosting David Pulsford [ @lesser-known-composers ] as our invited guest-editor, english composer and musician. 

Musica in Extenso made an exclusive interview with David, focusing on some interesting questions about his connection with music and hobbies.

1. Please tell us a few things about you! 

My name is David Pulsford, I was born in London and I now live in Torquay in the SW of the UK. I have always liked music but not until recently have I been involved with music in a practical way. I never really thought that I had any ability until I took piano lessons when I was 19. They lasted for 6 months and I loved playing Bach and Chopin in particular. 40 years later, and self taught, with the constant support of my brilliant wife, I got into doing what I always knew I loved but never knew that I could do; write/construct music. I now write music that is acoustic, electronic. I have written words to 4 tunes I have made, including a silly country style thing, a hip hop/rap track and a very serious and sad piano song. I have also won awards for remixing different genres of music written by other artists. You could say I got it bad but I got it good.

2. How would you describe your compositional style?

Soon after my first attempts at composition I decided to write music with 2 different identities. I know this is not a new thing and I had toyed with the idea of having more than 2 ID’s. This was because I was so taken with the fact that I could actually make music that it was difficult to decide which style to choose. Anyway, 2 ID’s. One is for making more tuneful pieces. I love tunes; Puccini, Chopin...and one is for more beat driven, experimental works.

When I write down a chord progression or some notes, I sometimes improvise a piano on top, or a question and answer type tune, then I arrange it a little. I listen to what I have a few times, and in my mind’s ear, I hear all sorts of other tunes. It’s difficult to remember them all. This is how I make music as Phocasm. It’s hopefully melodic.

I also construct music as Liudprand. When I heard electronic music; Terry Riley, Frank Zappa, Eno, Gong... up to a particular various artists micro house album on the German Klangscheiben label called compilation 2, well, the rhythms got to me-so to speak. So my style here is all about music having the pulse of life. I try to make it irresistible, so you have to move, click your fingers, whatever. I also try to make it with depth and interest so you can just listen with headphones.

All my music is home made. From field recordings made with my phone, through adjusted pre sets and original synth sound design, and my own contorted samples, to the mix down and mastering.

3. First contact with music:

The most important contact was probably hearing classical music like Haydn and Sibelius at my primary school. I remember seeing it written on a board and being taught note values by a teacher. Then I completely forgot about that until I found an EP of Vlado Perlemuter playing Chopin. I so loved the tunes. The first record I bought was by Duane Eddy - yes, I go back a long way and the first pop music that influenced me was the Beatles, but when I heard the music of J S Bach (BWV 1052),on a Spanish radio station when I was about 12, well I could not believe my ears ! Up tempo classical music was new to me and it blew me away.

4. Tell us your proudest achievement in composition!

Really difficult to pick one thing. I think having my album Noctilucent released on the German Klangscheiben label is hard to beat. A label whose music I used to listen to before I even knew how to write music. But I did have one of my first compositions featured on the cover CD of Future Music Magazine, so I’m in 2 minds.

5. Five words that describe your character:

Animal lover, humanist, world citizen, faithful, music lover. Sorry I took more than five words, so I guess you could add rule breaker ;)

6. How do you spend your free time?

As an ex-party animal, I am a great believer in having interests and hobbies. I spend most of my time with music - it’s a sickness. But I like growing exotic succulents. I am interested in Roman and Chinese history, also particle physics and cosmology (in a laymen’s way). I like to walk with my wife around the sea coast of Devon and watch television.

7. Lifelong dreams?

To make enough from my musical explorations so my life partner may follow her own interests.


Thank you, David! - Editor-in-Chief

[kendrixtermina]

Disclaimer For Potential Partners (f/m/x)

Writing this down as much to gather my thoughts and go into this with clear priorities as for possible future reference. 

My mother always told me that if you wanted everyone to like you, you’d have to be a 50 dollar bill. I have come to accept that I’m more like licorice. Some people aren’t gonna like me but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others who would appreciate me. 

I’d rather you run away screaming NOW than in three years when we’re both invested so Let’s get all this out of the way:

I’m bisexual. Yes, I’ve dated dudes in the past. I’ve had a brief online flirt with an agender person and do think androgynous ppl are hot which I suppose would make me pan in some ppl’s books, at this point the choice in label is purely aesthetic. I’m looking for a female partner right now because I’ve always had a slight preference for girls anyways but a sufficiently compatible non-female would not be refused. 

Because ppl have gotten this wrong in the past: Preference is about how likely you are to notice that someone is hot in the first place like in the early stages. It doesn’t mean my attachment to those dudes was any less “real” (or the other way around!) I just flat out don’t care whats in your pants there are other things to be picky about

From since I was young, the message I got from music, books etc is that it’s pretty bad to say “I love you” unless you truly mean it. So I don’t say “I love you” until I’m 100% sure I can do that it good conscience. It seems that it takes me a bit longer to be sure than most people, but it’s not like I’ve conducted statistics on this

I’m not vegan/vegetarian and I’m never going to be vegan/vegetarian

I’m not a pet person 

I’m not a sporty person and I’m never going to be a sporty person

Go through my stuff, spy on me in any way or ask me to tell you where I am at all times and its over

I’m an antiprohibitionist and don’t think there’s anything morally wrong with taking recreational substances. Conversely, I’m not interested in that sort of thing as a full-on lifestyle either. 

I try to keep an open mind and try everything once but im probably not gonna reorganize my life around new age woo-woo. 

So far my folks have liked most my partners, but if our social circles don’t get along I’m comfortable with leaving them separate. 

I believe in judging people as individuals first. I don’t wanna hear no paranoid shit about “the muslims” or other stereotypical carricatures but if you’re gonna be “europeans that europeans this” as if im not in the room its not gonna work. 

Don’t be fooled by the foreign-sounding surname im a potato through and through. No exotic fanservice to be had here. 

Barring unforseen dictatorships, I don’t want to move out of Europe. I like it here. Its full of frustrating dumbasses but so is the rest of the world.  Yay for cheese and consumer protection laws! I would consider moving closer to the shore though. 

It’s fine if you don’t speak German but you should not hate or dislike it.  English is a plus because me, my friends and my family are into internet culture

I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. No, you’re not going to patch this up. You don’t have to ignore him too if you’re not comfortable but you’ll have to respect my choice instead of playing family therapist or throwing platitudes about forgiveness at me. 

Im not counting and it depends on your definition but Ive fucked at least 15-20 people, which according to statistics is above average? Always used rubber unless it was long-term and exclusive tho. That might bother some ppl. 

That said it has been my conclusion that fucking does nothing that a beer can’t do and that the real quality stuff is what you could already do as a grade schooler when you still thought of all the grownup stuff as mystical. Having ice cream together, exploring new places, having contemplative conversations in the rain, telling each other your fantasies? That’s The Stuff. 

Hence while I wouldn’t turn down some fuckage along the way what im looking for at this point is someone to share life and grow old with, like there doesn’t need to be the expectation of further strings but the end goal RN is to find One That Sparks Joy(TM) that will get precedence

I’m not big on material gifts or the ritual part of dating if thats important to you I might not be the ideal candidate, but if its not thats probably good for your wallet

I’m a strong introvert. Sometimes I go weeks without talking to anyone other than my boss or maybe texting my relatives. If you’re very introverted or work alot this might be an advantage. Of course if I love you I will try my best to match up to your attention needs but if you need your partner to text you 15 times every day to feel good I might just not be your cup of tea

That doesn’t mean im not interested in going on or doing new experiences. I very much hope to do that together with you just not 5 days a week - if you can’t give new things wholehearted tries things might get uncomfortable

I like spicy food and all sort of asian cousine, but if you can’t stand the sight of cheese, asparagus and sausage it’s not gonna work either. I can obviously put less chili in your portion. 

I tend to talk fast and I find it hard to stop it even if I try, if that bothers you look elsewhere

I cannot stand forced optimism OR over-the top misanthropy or snobbishness. I will gush about things, but I like my dark edgy content and I stand by it. It is an advantage if you like talking about art. If you don’t like morbid humor that might be a problem

No diet talk

No perfectionism

No passive aggressive ppl or ppl that are uncomfortable with direct confrontation. That won’t work, we’d just set each other off even without meaning to and it would just be sad. If Im doing something wrong don’t expect me to notice by magic, tell me to my face so I can fix it. Don’t be hostile out of nowhere and don’t beat around the bush. 

im not religious or spiritual. I don’t mind if you are but if you want to have kids and bring them up strongly-immersed in some Abrahamic faith im not sure if this is the right adress

No anti-intellectualism (no snobbery, elitism or smartassery either - as a wise pig once said, “Knowledge is a horizon to strive for, not a prize to hold in your hand” It begins with realizing what you don’t know)

Indifferent about monogamy, but I wouldn’t say that I’m the sort of person who needs non-monogamy either.  If you want to we can do it (write me out some list of where you draw the lines so there’s no misunderstandings) but if you don’t it’s no biggie. I don’t care if you fuck 10 other people - for me, respect, honor and loyalty are to do with other things, like, don’t make fun of me and don’t expect me to change because one (1) person said I’m weird or whatever.

Don’t give me diseases tho. I’ll take precautions to extend the same courtesy to you.  

Potential character flaws: I can be a tad sensitive, disorganized and defensive sometimes, not gonna sugarcoat it. I have no filter and curse like a sailor. Also I have zero social skills and sometimes I come across as either angry or unemotional when its really the opposite. I find that just as confusing and contradictory as that sounds, I have like zero sense of how I come off. I try to be aware of all of these and do right to everyone to the best of my ability but if you’re sensitive about any of these point someone else might be a better fit 

2 kids max. I’m not sure I’ll have ANY at this point, and most certainly not in the next 5 years. IF we decide to have some later I volunteer to carry them though, I probably have good genes, my mom popped out 4 babies in 6 years with nary a complication. Besides I’d rather it was me dealing with the gross pregnancy stuff than someone I love

My favorite bedroom stuff is fingers-in-front-cavity and butt stuff. Mild sleepsex fetish but nothing super pronounced. What I don’t like or just am not very good at is top/bottom play. 

So far most my partners have had somewhat stronger sex drive than me but Id argue that I very much have one and ive never refused unless I was in physical pain, severely sleep-deprived or working on some important work-related thing that was due the next day. 

It’s important - and science backs me up on this - that you can freely talk to each other in n open, natural and relaxed manner

If you think im weird just do us both the favor and stay away don’t come at me with the attitude that you’re gonna mold me to your desires - even just writing this comes off kinda touchy but im saying this because some people out there really don’t get it. Like my natural tendency is to be open, courious and realistic,  but some people see that as free real estate and then it falls to me to be the reasonable one and End The Madness and im tired of that.

Like I want to be able to give love and pour out all my inner romantic shit without having to be afraid of being fucked over I want to be able to trust you with my inner harley quinn as well as my inner phantom of the opera 

UGH that sounded a bit tryhard didn’t it? But its the best description i could come up with

Must remember to translate this into mordor speak later

[chloe-gayzer]

23 for adoress?

thank you!! I don’t write angst too terribly much but i tried

23. “Don’t cry.”

[Read on AO3]

Anger is flowing through her. It’s burning its way through her limbs and scorching away anything in its path. She keeps herself moving so it doesn’t swallow her up, but she’s angry and not thinking straight and she wants to send that damn drug-soaked bitch down to hell with an arrow to the throat.

And then Whitehorse radios her.

They’ve got Adora at the jail again. They found her, or maybe she found them, but either way, they have her. And she’s hurt.

Jess feels herself choke up a bit at the news, but then she’s already making her way to the jail. She doesn’t have time to think about anything else.

Adora looks horrible.

There’s blood in her hair, butterfly bandages holding a cut together on her forehead and sutures down the length of one forearm. Tracey is busy bandaging it when Jess appears standing there, eyes on the deputy.

“Hold on there, Jess. I’m almost done here, then you can have her to yourself.”

Something about Tracey seems different. Jess doesn’t want to ask who died because she’s not looking forward to the answer.

Adora sees her and smiles. “Jess!”

Jess wants to smile, wants to show how happy she is that Adora is alive and there before her. It's hard to do when all she can think of is losing her again.

She moves closer to Adora, tugging a chair to the edge of the bed. “How you feeling, darlin?”

Adora takes her hand and holds it tight. “I don’t think I really have an answer. But better, now that you’re here.” She tugs Jess in and presses a kiss to her lips. “A lot has happened.”

Jess kisses her back without a thought, but then her eyes flash over to Tracey.

Tracey shrugs. “You know I won’t say a word. Anyone else tries to, they’ve got me and the sheriff to go through.”

She’s talking about the fact Adora and Jess are… dating sounds like the wrong word, but it sums up what’s needed. Not everyone in the area is friendly to their type.

Tracey finishes up the bandage. “I’ll make sure no one bugs you.”

She heads off, leaving them on their own.

Adora wastes no time pulling Jess onto the cot with her.

“I missed you so much,” Adora murmurs.

Jess feels all of the emotions that anger had burned away come flooding back. She takes a deep breath and tries to control it but it’s too late.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks out.

“Wh-- Sweet, what for?”

“I didn’t even notice them take you. You were there and then you weren’t. And I lost the trail and couldn’t find you-- they just took you and--”

Adora’s hands go to Jess’s cheeks. “Shh, shh, shh, baby… Don’t cry.”

Jess hadn’t realized she was crying. But she’s angry; at the world, at herself, at every single damn peggie out there. The rest she doesn’t care to parse but she’s still sad and she can’t ignore it.

“I coulda done something. I-- I’m gonna kill that bitch. She’s never gonna touch you again, I swear, I’ll…” She lets herself be pulled against Adora.

Adora is soft. Jess doesn’t know how else to describe it. The world is hard and cold and nothing is right about it, but Adora is the opposite. She's full of things Jess hasn't experienced much in her life and for some reason she actually likes Jess. There's no real reason that Adora, a Jewish lesbian from outside of Seattle who had a healthy family life and two loving parents, should find any redeeming traits in her. Besides the ability to kill peggies.

Especially here when she can’t stop herself from fucking crying.

“Fuck. Shit.” She wipes at her face.

“Hey, hey… It’s alright. If you need to, you can.”

Jess swears again. “I don’t need to. It’s stupid.” Another swear. “I’m gonna put an arrow in her throat, I…”

“Shh, baby, she’s already gone.”

Jess looks up at that. “What?”

“She’s dead. I promise.” Adora seems to sink in on herself. “She was a bad person but… I think she was a victim first. I don’t think she was always like that.”

Jess is damn near startled to see tears forming in the woman’s eyes.

“She just-- Everything went wrong for her and so many people failed her. And that sick fuck came in and drugged her and-- Tracey said her name was Rachel. Before she was Faith.” She sinks further in, becoming impossibly small on the bed beside Jess. “I didn’t… I wasn’t always Adora. My dads changed my name when they adopted me but-- But they were good. They loved me and made sure I was okay and-- No one did that for her.”

Adora is sobbing against Jess’s chest. She clings there with tight fingers on Jess’s jacket.

Jess isn’t sure what to do. It’s been a long time since she’s been any sort of good with emotions.

“So little could have changed and-- I could’ve ended up like her. I could’ve, could’ve gotten addicted and, taken advantage of-- Or if just one person, one goddamn person had gone to her and, and actually tried to help! Things could’ve been different for her!” She takes a deep breath, pressing her forehead to Jess’s collarbone. “How is our world so fucked that she ended up like that? Who decided I got to have the happy ending and she, she ended up a body in the river? We’re practically the same damn age...”

Just then, Jess grabs her hard. She keeps her close. “Don’t you cry about that,” she growls. “These aren’t choices you got. It’s not your fault she ended that way.” She takes a deep breath. What else is she supposed to say? “She was never sweet. Not like you. She never woulda been as great as you.”

“But we don’t know that…” Adora shutters as she tries to breathe. “If someone had just helped her…”

“Wouldn’t’ve changed who she is,” Jess practically spits. “There’s parts of you that you can’t change. She was always mean. Nothing like you. Shouldn’t think about what could have been anyway. Doesn’t change anything. I know better than anyone.” She’s had plenty of her own nights, wondering how even one change might change her. Wondering what might give her a life better than what she has. The thoughts don’t happen as much with Adora nearby, though.

“I just… I wish I could’ve done something.”

“I know, darlin’. That’s just who you are.”

It’s another few minutes before Adora calms down. Idely, she takes one of Jess’s hands and bends her middle and ring finger down towards the palm, and guides the thumb, pointer, and pinky so they’re straight up. Jess is used to this sort of thing. It’s Adora teaching her signs.

Adora turns Jess’s hand towards her and copies it.

“What’s this one mean?” Jess asks.

Adora goes to answer, but stops herself. She only says two words.“... You’ll learn.”

[sawthefaeriequeen]

Top Ten Books Read In 2018

1) The Last Summer of the Death Warriors by Francisco X. Stork

I picked this up at a book fair, read the summary, and figured I'd surprise myself with this author I'd never heard of before. It's about the friendship between DQ, a guy with terminal cancer dealing with his complicated feelings for his estranged-but-conciliatory family, and Pancho, a guy who's biding his time until he can get revenge on the person who's killed one of his family members. I like that both boys are raw and real and people—Pancho obviously has messed up emotions, but DQ can be plenty bitter and angry too: he's not an Inspirational Cancer Patient stereotype.

2) The Sherwood Ring by Elizabeth Marie Pope

Girl moves into her uncle's old ancestral house sometime during the 18th century and gets immersed into the past lives and loves of the ghosts that thrived there during the days of the Revolutionary War, their paths often crossing each other's. I swear I have never seen more delightful ghost characters in my entire life.

3) The Unbound by V.E. Schwab

So by the time I'd picked this up, I was having mixed feelings about V.E. Schwab – on one hand, she'd always written worlds that engage me almost instantly with their creativity. On the other hand, I'd just recently been horribly disappointed by the ending to what's been her most popular series so far: I thought her final Shades of Magic book did a most spectacular job on dropping the balls on everything good about it. Up to reading it, I'd thought the author's hype was deserved. But after, well…

So when I picked this up, it was with much trepidation. I'd loved the previous book, The Archived: the big old house setting, the grim closed-off girl/sweet sunny boy dynamic the lonesome warrior setup, all were like catnip to my id. I didn't want it ruined by a bad sequel. Fortunately, this book took everything I loved about the book and turned it up to eleven. It upped the stakes, it intensified the relationships, and it also added a mental illness angle that I personally found very meaningful.

The author is still kiiinda on notice so I'm not sure I want a third book. If there is one, dear God, please be good. *crosses fingers*

4) Turtles All The Way Down by John Green

I remember thinking, as I was reading this: this is really, really working for me but will it work for someone neurotypical? 2018 was hell and I was just so desperate for the people in my life to get it, and so I kept hopping on trains of thought like this.

Anyway, this book was spot on in what goes on in the wirings of my anxious brain. Green's usual turns of phrase took an incredibly frenetic turn at times, which, I know, is exactly what it's like to have a mental illness. This is not a book about "this is what to do" it's about how it IS or how it can GET.

I'm still really grateful for that quote about the spiral – how it tightens, but also how it eternally widens. When I first saw the cover, I thought it was kind of blah; now I look at that spiral and see something different. I see the hope of creating a new 'normal'.

5) The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

This was so readable it surprised me. I thought I'd go slow on it because: war story where it's a foregone conclusion that it ends tragically for the leads? Yeah, I'm not in a rush to reach the end of that. But I blazed right through this book. There's something really addictive about Madeline Miller's storytelling and how she brings her characters together and follows their blossomings and downfalls through the years. And then, the course of the Iliad and the inevitable sadness for Achilles, Patroclus, and Briseis was more like the slow turning of the tide rather than getting hit with a tidal wave. Anyway, not only was it readable but I'm finding myself eager to re-read it.

6 ) The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley

Part of my Read Everything Robin McKinley Writes mission that began last year. I'd liked the sheer escapism and the desert setting in The Blue Sword, but that whole white savior thing kinda put me off from enjoying Harry and the book more fully than I would've liked.

It was not so for this book, thankfully! Who knew that reading about the nitty-gritty of slaying big scaly beasts could be so satisfying? That's classic Robin McKinley, as I'm learning – you love what the protag loves. And then I really dug how the dead dragon's ghost haunting Aerin acts as a metaphor for mental illness.

(As I continue to wrestle with my diagnosis, I continually appreciate all the depression/anxiety metaphors I encounter in media. Maybe one day I'll make a post about it) AND ALSO: a love triangle that's actually well done and that serves our heroine's identity and character rather than taking away from it? Yes. Yes, thank you.

7) A Certain Slant of Light by Laura Whitcomb

Yeah so, this book killed me. It's about two twenty-something ghosts with unfinished business who find themselves in the bodies of two teenagers whose souls appear to have completely vacated theirs. They find themselves falling for each other and trying to find out what happened to their 'hosts' and what went on in their past lives. They also find themselves battling to survive the hostile home lives that their 'hosts' left behind. It's all very beautiful and kind of twisted and also a love letter to words and probably my most unexpected book of the year. And I have NO idea to rec it to people. "Read this, it's kind of fucked up but gorgeous but also can get triggery so step warily?" Uh.

8) Deerskin by Robin McKinley

See warnings above. Oh God. But really, I totally respect Robin McKinley for going full-out faithful to how utterly fucked up fairy tales can be while still creating a survival story. I'm not just talking about Lissar surviving spoilers incestual rape and miscarriage (indeed, I'm not qualified to talk about it) but how hers is a story of healing: by surviving the elements, by nursing living things back into life, by building herself up into a legend without even knowing it.

9) Muse of Nightmares by Laini Taylor

Just an incredibly satisfying ending to a duology that at the same time echoes that quote from Michael Ende's The Neverending Story: "but that is another story and shall be told another time." I love when something ends with that sense of: "there are even more stories and adventures for our beloved characters out there than you can possibly fathom, and you are now free to make up them yourself."

10) Autoboyography by Christina Lauren

I was intrigued by the premise: a half-Jewish guy and a Mormon guy fall for each other over the course of a writing class. And upon starting it, I could tell straight (heh, straight) away that it was going to be a favorite. It's an unabashedly kilig romance about falling for the wonderfulness in each other,and both mains are fucking adorable, and made me want to give them both a ton of hugs. Oh, and this book further reinforced my belief that the key to first-person writing is having a good voice.

Another thing is, I basically never see YA books that deal with growing up in a religion and actually-loving it and having it be an inextricable part of your identity… and then having to deal with the darker, prejudiced sides that you really wish would be excised from it altogether especially if they are opposed to who you are. To deal with it sensitively and touchingly, not only in a YA book but in an m/m romance? Well done.

honorable mention!

-The Secret History by Donna Tartt

I was reading this on the bus on the way home to the province for Christmas and I could not stop laughing and I had no idea to explain to my very curious sister that it was because half the protagonists were high as a kite at the funeral of the friend that they all killed and one of them had just very noisily killed a bee in the church vestibule and it made the loudest sound on the planet and they're all gonna have to ~aesthetically grieve and pallbear now even though THEY killed their friend and w o w it's like Nuwanda from Dead Poets Society was cloned five times.

Sometimes "pretentious people murder someone and somehow it is hilarious" is just exactly my cup of tea.

and a couple of series binges!

Almost 10 years ago (god, what the hell), I had a "YA Paranormal Romances I Might Actually Like" list, and the two trilogies below were on it. There's something gratifying about finally crossing off books on your TBR that have been there for ages:

-The Shade Trilogy by Jeri Smith-Ready (Shade, Shift, Shine) This series came out on the tail of the Great YA Paranormal Romance boom and I really wish I'd picked it up then (I also really wish some of the covers it got weren't so damn off-putting. It's like Animorphs all over again) because it's such cut above so many of the books that were being churned out in those days.

The premise is: what if there was a global paranormal event that left the portion of the population born after a certain year with the ability to see ghosts? I really like that the author thought this out thoroughly – it's not just a oooh spooky ghosties gimmick. Everything is affected: the educational system, the police force, politics, technology, travel, you name it.

The heroine was smart and truth-seeking and had nuancedrelationships with lots of female characters (bff, mentor, aunt who raised her, mom who died… ), the Betty love interest was a total sweetheart who also didn't seem too good to be true and who was capable of making major teenage fuck-ups, and the Veronica love interest was a rock-and-roll ghost who had the post-life character arc that I sadly wish Maggie Stiefvater had given Noah Czerny. I kind of loved them all a lot and one of the reasons I wish I'd read these books as they came out was so I could've been un-jaded just a little bit about Those Pesky Love Triangles.

(Someday I…really ought to make an analysis about why I dislike love triangles in general and what exactly was up with the ones that DID work for me.)

-Wolves of Mercy Falls trilogy by Maggie Stiefvater

I read the whole series toward the year's end. It was precisely the cold-weather binge I was craving. I may have my quarrels with some of her writing decision, but really few people can do atmospheric, poetic writing the way Maggie Stiefvater does. The romances were a bit too YA for me in this one, but I ended up really sympathizing with every single POV character anyway. And I mean, cold and poetry and family and books and wolves-as-family*.

(*One day, I'll have the emotional armor to watch Wolf's Rain again. )

[jaimistoryteller]

OC/Author PrideFest Question Mess Part 3

Thanks for the tag @raevenlywrites​​ ! Ended up sleeping longer than expected, here’s the last part of the set of questions.

Rules I am going with: answer the questions you know or are comfortable sharing, tag others, add a question if you feel like something is missing.

Note: I will be answering in three different posts, one per section, rather than all together because of how many questions there are.

Questions for you:

Introduce yourself! Tell us a little bit about you and what you write

Why do you write LGBT+ characters?

Have you always written LGBT+ characters? If no, what inspired you to start? Is it a deliberate representational choice?

Do you use modern labels in your work? Why or why not?

World builders: do you have any neat societal twists? (unique names for IDs, different marriage practices, etc.)

Do you write outside your own experiences? (cis writing trans, wlw writing mlm, etc.) If yes, how confident do you feel about it?

Tell us about a favorite book/character someone else wrote that inspired you (or just plain gave you a warm and fuzzy)

Any advice for someone else writing LGBT+ characters?

Would you like people to ask you more questions when this is over?

Free space! Wax poetic about something near and dear to your heart.

Questions for your Ocs (in character or out, dealer’s choice):

Say hi! Let us get to know you, you big beautiful person, you!

How do you feel about the world your author has created for you?

Are you out? To whom, why or why not, etc?

Tell us a little about your journey. Have you always IDed the way you do now? Are there parts of you you’re still figuring out?

Do you feel settled in your ID, or do you think it might change as you and your author go on?

Did your author always know you were [blank], or did you have to tell them? If yes, oh please, please tell us how! :3

Is being [blank] particularly hard in your world? How does your society treat you differently than ours might?

Tell us a little about your unique experiences with your ID. Do you experience dysphoria? Is it impossible to find a date? Just want to find that special someone for snuggles but everyone expects sex? Unload for a minute, it’s okay to struggle sometimes.

What’s the best part about being [blank] in your world?

Do you like getting fan-mail? Would you like people to ask you more questions when this is over?

Grab that mic! Drop some truth on us, something you’ve just been dying to share! Shout out to your besties!

Questions for either you or your OCs:

Going to answer these like I would a Q&A post, with the first three characters that comes to mind for each question.

What’s your orientation and gender? Wave that flag!!!

Tichina - female and pan. I’m proud of both. While I have not yet met my soulmates, I have had a variety of partners over the year that covers the spectrum of genders and sexualities. 

Quin - agender and queer. I am much more comfortable with my gender then I am my orientation. 

Stepan - male, demisexual, pan or poly romantic, never quite sure which is a better fit. I’m good with my alignments and try to always be respectful of other peoples. If my patient has one I am unfamiliar with, then I make sure to do research so I can help my patient to the best of my abilities. 

When did you realize you were LGBT+?

Jon - as a preteen. The others on the gymnastics team were talking about how cute people were and I didn’t see it.

Isa - in my mid-twenties. I’m older than I look.

Nazreen - after meeting my soulmates in my mid-twenties, prior to that I just thought there was something wrong with me.

What makes your heart melt?

Nazreen - not technically related to my orientation, but seeing Akaal with the children, particularly the smaller ones. He’s so big and yet I know he’s never going to harm them. 

Sitara *chuckles* Nazreen beat me to that one, *thoughtful look* I’m going with the way acceptance is the norm and not the unusual within the Balakhnov Building.

Tichina - any time I am able to get one of my high risk kids off the street, bonus points for the ones who find themselves and do so proudly. 

Do you have a favorite LGBT+ song? Movie? Book? Artist? (comic?)

Marie - too many books to list them all, the beauty of being an editor. I’ve always enjoyed All the Things She Said by t.A.T.u

Ioanna - Father would have been horrified if still alive to know I play games like Saints Row 2. I think that Gat, Aisha, and the main character are a triad. Since the main character can be anything the player ones, I take them to be genderfluid, so no matter how the relationship unfolds it’s bi

Sparks - Wonder Woman, Superman, and Batman. You know she keeps them in line and makes Bruce stop brooding so damned much. 

Do you have a secret crush outside of your own work? Some wild crossover OTP?

Aither - I spent my teenage years shipping myself with Buffy and Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and there was that one time I wondered what it would be like to be an Aither sandwich with Squall and Seifer from FFVIII. . Of course, as an adult I have also shipped myself with Sam and Gabriel from Supernatural. 

Aaron *tries not to fidget* Q from the Craig!Bond movies is quiet adorable and I wouldn’t mind a good snuggle with him. 

Diego - I don’t know if I’d like anything more than friendship, but I’d love to get to know Stiles and Lydia from Teen Wolf. Maybe Even Scott if he could get his head out of his rump long enough to actually act like the friend he’s supposed to be. 

Tell us about your LGTB+ headcannons (I’d really love to see someone’s character answer this)

Karl - I always thought that William and Geoffrey from A Knight’s Tale were boyfriends. When Jocelyn joins them, they form a proper triad. 

Isaak - no one can convince me that Bones, Spock and Jim weren’t a space-husband triad!

Vara - I’d like to think that Nathan, Audrey, and Duke in Haven are a triad. Most of Nathan and Duke’s conflict coming from the fact neither of them wants to admit it for whatever silly reason.

What’s your favorite thing about being LGBT+?

Vasilia - I’m myself and able to accept that I am myself, rather than trying to be someone I am not because I hadn’t accepted being transgender.

Isa - there is a community of people like me.

Keywon - pride in my friends and community. 

Is there a cool place you like to hang out with your squad? Maybe an LGBT+ meet up?

Keywon - well, our team hangs out at the basketball court a lot, we also spend time in the community center where we are able to get help with any school work we need. We’re encouraged to bring others our age or orientation to hang out and what not. 

Quin - before meeting Aither, I spent a lot of my time at the queer book store, I didn’t really have a squad, but at least it was somewhere safe for me in public. Not that I like being in public too often. 

Molon - while I do spend a lot of time at the community center and at the basketball court, I also spend a lot of time at the nomyn san (Mongolian Library) where a lot of people of a similar descent hang out to share culture.

What are some things you do to keep positive?

Tichina - I help those in my community and the communities around mine. Every time I do so, I know I am helping someone else avoid the hardships that I and others before me went through. They’ll have a chance at a better life. 

Tzvia - prayer and regular worship, I am active in the both my faith and sports. 

Isaak - studying helps me keep positive because it means I can reach for the stars (literally)

Do you have any advice for young LGBT+ people?

Jon - you’re not broken, wrong, or otherwise odd. No matter what some people might claim, they’re idiots. 

Aither - own whatever space you are in, most won’t know how to take it.

Jamie - be yourself, it might require leaving what you know, but in the long run it’ll be far better for you. 

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Isaak - hopefully on the moon, it’s going to take a lot of hard work and study, but my Uncle and Aunt are making it possible so I’m not letting them or myself down.

Falco - retiring, I hope. I sometimes feel far too old for position within the Network that I hold. 

Ioanna - I happier and healthier me, preferably. 

Welp, that took way longer than planned because of a host of reasons. Still, have some more information on my massive world.

Tagging some peeps I am getting to know off the writer peeps spreadsheet so they can see my answers or do them as they feel fit.

@authordai @forlornraven @lagamerita @writing-at-dusk and @wordsbysarah

 Part 1 and  Part 2

[startledstars]

The things I write in my diary…

(uncensored observations)

…are rarely profound. I dump all my issues into the page, sometimes with tear splotches that make the ink run. It’s cathartic to see the mountains in my mind reduced to two-dimensional molehills of lines and letters.

I don’t reread most of it. Few pages are worth keeping. The rest is between me and God, even after the end of all things.

The pages of my diaries have been fed to the shredder. I kept maybe five out of more than a hundred; the ones that mention my testimony.

Over the past three weeks, the feeling that I need to get ready, to choose what will remain of me after I’m gone, has grown exponentially.

This feeling started in mid-late 2019. I tried to tell my family friends that I thought we had less than 20 years left in this world. They ignored me and I wondered if they were right to do it.

A year passed; a few months into the Covid lockdown in 2020, I told the same people it looks like there may only be 10 years to the end. They remembered the strange things I said in 2019, saw the empty streets and office buildings and reports of an invisible enemy. They had no excuse, yet they turned to scoffing and mocking and ignoring me again.

Another year later, we’re here: the tail end of September in 2021. Everyone I know, with the exception of young children, has gotten the jab. The president came on national TV and said, “this is not about freedom or personal choice.” The man supposedly tasked with serving and protecting his nation decided that his people’s freedoms are not even up for debate; they’re completely negligible. Watch this CNN clip about how the Biden administration didn’t go far enough and the government needs to restrict interstate travel. (I thought it was just a tumblr joke but apparently some people enjoy getting stepped on by big daddy government. The absolute cringe.)

The Canadian Australian government is planning to mandate booster shots for their next passports as Israel has already done. French people out in public need to show their Certification Of Vaccination ID (Acronym: Covid. Another coincidence, I guess.) Australia looks like a dystopian police state all day, every day. I watched a video of a guy harassed for sunbathing alone on the beach.

Institutionally, freedom speech is gone; if you express objections to the lies you are force fed every day, if you make a YouTube video so much as saying certain words (such vaccine, shooting, Biden) you will be censored by the AI algorithm. Right to assembly is gone. Right to earn a living- to simply go to work and do your job- is gone. The right to just… exist in a public space? Reduced to atoms. Your right to choose what goes on or inside your body without coercive corporate/political pressure is gone.

Never before in the history of humanity have people willingly surrendered their rights to a tyrannical multi-national agenda while reviling and ridiculing those who dare to speak out against such atrocities. (Sure, civilians with the ability to think freely are the real threat. Keep watching TV and don’t forget to wipe the drool off your chin, Einstein.)

We are living in unprecedented times, yet people act exactly as the Word says they would:

Knowing this first, that there shall come in the last days scoffers, walking after their own lusts,

And saying, Where is the promise of his coming? for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation.

For this they willingly are ignorant of, that by the word of God the heavens were of old, and the earth standing out of the water and in the water:

2 Peter 3:5

The end isn’t near. It already came and went. Most people haven’t lost their minds; they’ve stubbornly given their minds over to their insane overlords. This is the zombie apocalypse: a pandemic of the walking dead with no desire to think, speak, fight, love, or live.

Faith is just as much a choice as willful ignorance. Faith in God is rewarded. Faith in man, especially when it goes this far, is an abomination. No one has any excuse for choosing not to see the obvious.

But back to the point: at the beginning of 2021 I thought we’d have 5 years left in this dispensation. Now, I think it’s less than half of that. I’m not sure I’ll be here this time next year.

You know a storm is close when you see the flash of lightning. You can calculate how far away the storm is by counting until you hear the thunder.

I think the ‘pandemic,’ the impending economic collapse, the investigations into the Wuhan Lab leaks that might result in World War III, the recent outbreak of Avian flu, the red waters near in the Dead Sea, the recent drying of the Euphrates as predicted in Revelation- and countless other signs are bright and clearly perceived like lightning.

The storm is coming.

And the rapture is the thunder; the thundering of God’s voice as the Word describes it.

After the body of Christ, the restrainer, is gone, you’ll know how that the storm of God’s final judgement isn’t far off; a rain of fire followed by His reign through eternity.