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feverinfeveroutfic · 12 days ago

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Tijuana sunrise | kinktober 2024 | day xxv.: “lady godiva’s house”

pairing: joey belladonna x oc

prompt: boot worship

word count: 4470

song: “crazy love” by chelsea wolfe

“He wants to meet me again, but this time, down by the Golden Nugget.”

It had been over a month since I had seen Joey, and it wasn’t until I actually received a letter from him when I began to think about him again. I had a feeling that he would want to see me again, but he never explicitly said it aloud through those written words. I was back at my place on the northern edge of Carson City, and I sat out on the small front porch with my cup of coffee and Joey’s letter out before me under the flat surface of the paper weight.

He had written the letter on fine butter yellow parchment and wrote his words in smooth black ink, at least at first glimpse: I took a better look to find that the ink was actually a rich dark red. He had tucked it into a little dark red envelope, and when I took it out of the mailbox, I noticed the little kiss mark on the back. The sight of it made my heart skip a few beats, especially when I never really saw myself with Joey, and I never really had anything that romantic before in my life. I was never really a fan of romance, but I could tell that he had put a great deal of thought into it.

“Portia—

The last date with you was complete and utter bliss. I look forward to the next time that you can make me orgasm in the way that you did. In fact, while on tour, I find myself thinking about you on a regular basis. I think about seeing you again in the heart of downtown Carson City, down by the Nugget, in my finest boots.

In fact, I must confess that I think about you so much that I can’t help but put my hand down my shorts whenever the guys aren’t around. I must meet you again, and when the tour is finally finished, too.

I am going to scrape up what I can just so I can fly out there again. I shall call you if and when the time comes.

Love, Joey”

I needed to read it a few times in order for it to all register. Before he had gone off to the next stop on his tour, I had given him and his crew my number if they needed anything else, and I was beside myself when I realized that he hadn’t lost it all throughout the tour: a setting like that would be so easy to lose things.

Maybe he was in fact suggesting it. Down by the Golden Nugget once the touring festivities had calmed down a great deal.

I sipped on my coffee, and I peered out to the street before me. That late summer in the high desert feeling with the slightest chill in the air around me, and yet the cottonwoods down below the rim of Lake Tahoe all had yet to change color. I thought about Joey and everything that he and I had done before, and in fact, the more that I thought about him, the more I wanted him to call me.

I finished my coffee and doubled back into my house. It was like clockwork when the phone rang. I kept the screen door closed behind me as I vouched for the cordless phone. I pushed the button and brought it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” he greeted me.

“Oh, hey, you. I just got your letter. Um… do you wanna meet again down by the Nugget? Is that what you were asking me?”

“I was more suggesting it—you know, I was kinda thinking out loud when I wrote that. But I would love to do that, though. I would love to spend more time with you and in a place that’s more Vegas than Vegas.”

I smiled at that. “More Vegas than Vegas, that’s a new one,” I said with a chuckle.

“It really is,” he insisted. “I remember going through there—like within hours of meeting you—and thinking that I had landed in a miniature version of Vegas instead. Then I met you and I wanted to be in that dirty, sexy part of the country that no one really talks about or wants to completely admit to liking at all.”

I smiled again, and that time I followed it up with another chuckle.

“So what time do you want to meet?” I asked him, and I pressed a hand to my hip.

“Well, I got home yesterday and I slept in today because of it,” he replied. “How does Saturday sound?”

“This Saturday or the one after?”

“This Saturday, yeah. Today’s Sunday, which means I can rest for the week and sort through my mail and whatnot. I’m thinking of taking the earliest flight out there so we can have a whole day and then some together. I also gotta dig my boots out of the closet, too.”

“What kind of boots are they?” I asked him. “Or do you wanna save it for when we see each other again?”

“I’ll just say that they’re leather and they have a bit of a raised heel,” he replied, and all the while, he lowered his voice to a gentle husky tone, as if he and I were in bed together and talking over the surface of our pillows. “Not quite cowboy boots, but they’re getting along those lines.”

“I think I should wear mine,” I suggested to him.

“You definitely should,” he answered. “Anyways, I gotta bounce. Next to touring, I also got a job waitin’ tables. So, I have to get ready.”

“Yeah, don’t be late,” I assured him with another chuckle.

“I’ll see you Saturday, Portia babe.”

“Earliest flight out,” I echoed. “I’ll see you then.” I puckered my lips for a kissing notion, and then we hung up at the same time. Indeed, I kept on walking to my bedroom closet to fetch my own boots out of hiding. They were these black leather boots that rose all the way up to my knees, as if I was about to walk the streets in search of my own heart. Though they slipped on over my feet, they had these fine silvery buckles on the sides facing out: in the center of the actual buckles was a small cluster of rhinestones in the shape of a small flower. They were like little forget-me-nots, small insignias that coaxed everyone into remembering me always.

I was going to wear these boots as well as my best black jeans and my white leather jacket, especially since it had a pair of bright red cherries embroidered over the left side.

My hair nicely combed and slicked back with a bit of rose water, and I was ready to face him again, that time down in the heart of town.

There was a grassy spot right behind the Golden Nugget, tucked back in the darkness and with a view of Cactus Jack’s right across the street: it was a place where I could hang out and wait for him without anyone getting the wrong idea about me. I planned on being Joey’s whore that night, and I wasn’t going to ask him to pay me, either.

He had told me that he was going to be flying into Reno and then he was going to take the bus down from there with all the smoking seniors and chicks with bad attitudes who had come there instead of Vegas for a good time. Luckily for the two of us, I had gotten there rather early, which meant that the sun was going to remain out for the time being.

I lingered by the brick pillar with one foot up on the sides of the bricks and my hands tucked into my pockets. I let my hair cascade over my shoulder, and I was going to let my skin drink down the warm sunshine as it filtered in from behind the roof and face of Cactus Jack’s. It helped that I wore mirrored sunglasses slightly tinted pink, and it helped that the twinkling lights on the outside of the Golden Nugget appeared much more golden than during the middle of the day.

I was about to be Joey’s whore for the night, and that feeling confirmed itself over once the bus lumbered up to the stop in front of me.

I nudged my glasses down for a better look at the passengers padding off in single file, and I laughed to myself when I realized he was one of two men who stepped off there and into the shadows. His long black curls seemed to drift behind him and his black leather-clad body like ribbons; indeed, he had on these big black leather boots with a slightly raised heel. He had crossed a boundary of sorts being dressed like that, and he seemed to enjoy every part of it as he padded off the bus and came on closer to me.

“Hey, stranger,” I greeted him with my arms open and my chest ready for him.

“There’s my little desert rose,” he returned the favor in that upstate accent, and we embraced one another. He pressed his smooth dark lips to the side of my neck, which in turn sent chills down my spine. I let my sunglasses slide down the bridge of my nose, and he held back and gazed into my eyes, those big brown eyes as tender and smooth as molten chocolate.

I held back and showed him my feet, to which he raised his eyebrows.

“Ooh, hot,” he remarked.

“We’re gonna have fun tonight,” I promised him, and I took my sunglasses off all the way so he could have a better view into my eyes. “Do we want to get something to eat first or shall we go into this headfirst? The restaurant in here is wonderful.” I gestured back to the big casino behind me.

“I’m kinda hungry,” he confessed as he adjusted the strap of his travel bag over his shoulder. “I could definitely go for something to eat right now. Something to eat and then we can have a moment alone after that.”

I put my arm around the small of his back, and we walked side by side along the outside of the Golden Nugget towards the front door with the warm late afternoon sun at our left side. Cars shot past us along the main drag, but I felt safe next to him, especially when he remained along the curb and with his arm around the lower part of my back.

“I’m in love with those boots,” he told me.

“Yeah, well, I like these boots you’re wearing,” I retorted to him.

“Hey, now… I said I’m in love with the boots,” he corrected himself with a wag of his finger at me.

We rounded the corner, and he reached for the glass front door before us. He held the door for me, to which I thanked him. We were met with a cool blast of air over our heads as well as the faint smell of cigarettes off to the side, but we took the clear side of the restaurant, there at the bar.

Though he didn’t have much money on his person, he was more than happy to spend it on me, with a cup of coffee, dinner, and a slice of pie à la mode afterwards.

Once we were done, we returned to the street, and at that point, the sun had gone down behind the mountains, and the sky had painted itself royal violet with nightfall, while the summits of the mountains themselves glowed with rich scarlet and gold with the twilight. Joey adjusted the zipper of his jacket as well as the strap of his bag, and I was relieved that I had driven down there beforehand.

“Would you like to put your bag in my backseat?” I offered him. “I’m parked right down the street here.”

“Yeah, unless we’re going somewhere else,” he replied.

“I’d like to take a walk and show you around the place,” I suggested to him. “A nice little evening walk when the evening itself is quite nice.”

“Oh, I’d love to!” he declared, and we walked on back toward my car. A quick packing of his things in the trunk, and we doubled on back up to the crosswalk right outside of the front doors of the Golden Nugget.

The traffic had thinned out as rush hour came and went, but there were still quite a few cars on the street even after the sun went down. This was the state that never slept, even while tucked right under the veins of silver and the pockets of sandstone.

I pressed the button for the crosswalk, and we lingered by the corner. Two men down the side of the casino had lit up their cigarettes, and even though they didn’t seem intent on walking our way, Joey still lingered close to me.

“Such a gentleman,” I remarked to him over the noise of the traffic. He showed me a smile and shrugged his shoulders a bit.

“Just doing my job,” he assured me.

The light turned red, and we walked ahead to the other side of the street. The lamps along the inside of the sidewalks had lit up with orange light in junction with the twilight. We strode along the parking lot out before Cactus Jack’s, which was then lined with long low hedges and trees. We crossed the next side street up, and we soon found ourselves in a quieter neighborhood and one that I was only vaguely familiar with,

“These houses are all from the turn of the century,” I explained to him. “In fact, rumor has it that some of these are haunted.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he retorted to me.

“The one on the corner up here is haunted,” I told him with a gesture up the street; there stood a house on the corner, all by its lonesome surrounded by a series of towering cottonwood trees that were beginning to shed their plumes of cotton into the gutter below. “I know for a fact that it is.”

He squinted his eyes at me. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” I replied. “I’ve actually been in there, too. I can confirm that it is in fact haunted.”

We walked on up to the house and the wrought iron fence that lined the property. The trees covered the entire front yard, which was nothing more than soil and stones to resemble a forest floor, completely in shadow. There was a walkway that led up from the sidewalk and the front gate to the shabby stained front door; the house itself meanwhile was small and of pale brick, and lined with faded white wooden trimming. The chimney had come apart with time, and something told me something bad had happened here. I could not explain the feeling that the house bestowed onto me, but it was an obvious feeling.

There looked to be a memorial next to the front gate, with long thin glass candles and a few little skulls the size of tennis balls decorated around the base. Before us stood a wooden cross.

“So there’s this effigy here,” Joey remarked, and he hovered over the little wooden statue with his hands pressed to his hips. I joined in next to him for a look myself, at the nails that jutted out from its eyes and the noose wrapped around its neck. A feeling of dread swept over me at the sight of it, especially at the sight of its rust-colored hair; indeed, he rested a hand on his slim svelte stomach and gave himself a little massage.

“Everything okay?” I asked him, slightly concerned.

“Yeah, this… weird feeling just came up in my stomach,” he replied. “A girl whom I used to know some years ago. We had this thing together—”

“Your ex-girlfriend?” I interjected.

“Different girl. Before her and well before you. We had this thing together. It was pretty intense. Well…” He shrugged his shoulders a bit. “It was intense in a sense that I had never really imagined myself in that sort of situation before. And then I met you.” He showed me a little smile, albeit one that didn’t last very long. He returned his gaze to the effigy on the bottom of the memorial.

Something about it seemed to haunt him, as if there were some kind of demons that he didn’t want to tell me about, even if we were getting to know one another. He crouched down to touch it, but then he held his hand back from it as if it was hot.

“What’s the matter?” I asked him, slightly concerned.

Joey stood up and he nearly lost his balance from the slightly raised heels of his boots. He caught himself on the iron rungs of the fence. I turned towards him, away from the statue, from the Crone.

“This thing—” he said. “It’s doing something to me.”

A chill swept over me right then, and even though there was not a single gust of wind or a breeze around us, I swore that I could hear it. We were being surrounded by something, by the ghosts of his past.

Voices filled our ears right then. I glanced up to the trees before us, and it took me a second to realize that the trees were in fact speaking to us. The voices of his past loves.

I lowered my gaze to the house before us. Not a thing stirred about. Not a single light shone from the windows.

Mere silence.

The trees were making the noise.

And then Joey hopped over the iron fence into the front yard.

“Joey!” I called after him, and I hopped the fence as well. I followed him around the trees to the side of the house. I caught up with him right as he turned the corner into the backyard. There was another effigy back there, but something I couldn’t exactly see from the shadows all around us.

Joey crouched down before it. Excited whispers surrounded us, and they grew increasingly louder as he reached for the face of the effigy.

“She keeps calling me,” he muttered. “She’s haunting me. They’re all haunting me.”

In the dim light, I could see him closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, and he held it. His back shuddered and shook as he breathed out. I sank down next to him, and I put my arms around him.

His heart pounded in his chest.

A part of me felt like it wasn’t the best place for it, but I felt closer to him just by cradling him in my arms.

“Joey… stay with me,” I begged to him in a soft breathy whisper. He shivered and huddled closer to me; all the while, he dropped his hands down to the fronts of my knees. His long fingers spread over the fronts of the boots, across the black leather that bound me away from the cold of the house. “Stay with me. Please stay with me.”

He closed his eyes. I wanted to hold him and take care of him right there in the backyard of the haunted house. I could hear a woman’s voice breathing down from the trees. Something told me it was the voice of his ex-girlfriend, the last girl before me, the last girl to break him.

The voice disappeared, and the cold remained around us. But once the noises died away, Joey lifted his head and turned to me. His brown eyes were big and I could tell that his lips were dry and parched.

“Let me help you—”

I held onto his hand, and he lifted himself up to his feet. His knees quivered like a newborn horse, but he managed to stand up and walk with me to the side of the house. I glanced back at the effigy, only to find that it had disappeared into the shadows.

We walked along back to the front yard and the memorial right outside of the front gate.

“That statue is giving me a weird feeling again,” he confessed as we reached the fence again. I climbed over first, and I managed to do it one leg after another, even with those boots on. Indeed, it felt as though I had jumped into a swimming pool filled with icy cold water, and I was surrounded by all the bubbles.

In the dim light, I could make out the shape of the nail heads against the cold ground. It struck me as one of those things that needed to be destroyed. We had found it, and thus, we had to take it out ourselves.

Joey hobbled over the fence. We had our boots, and we could demonstrate them to one another.

“Destroy it with me,” I suggested to him, and I extended a hand to him. He swallowed, but we locked our fingers together.

“I’ll stand on it,” he told me.

“I’ll take the nails out,” I followed along with him, and I knelt down to the sidewalk. Joey stamped on the statue, and he kept it locked underneath the crest of his heel.

With my free hand, I picked the nails out of the eyes, one by one. I was surprised by how easily the first came out, but once I took the second out of there, a loud, ear-splitting shriek filled the street. I peered behind us to see the lights of the Golden Nugget and the cowboy outside of Cactus Jack’s flickering before they died out all the way.

I swallowed, and my heart pounded in my chest, but I kept picking out the nails, one by one.

The third one came out and another shriek emerged from the block before us. The houses on that block were haunted, but especially the one next to us. Joey kept his boot heel firmly planted on the wooden effigy.

The fourth and the fifth nails. The next shrieks came about in a backwards echo, and they sent shivers across my back.

“Portia!” Joey exclaimed.

The sixth nail out, and the voices in the trees returned, followed by another disembodied shriek. I picked up the crone and chucked it into the storm drain next to me. Though I couldn’t see it, I could hear it falling down into the gutter, down into the sewer.

The voices and the shrieks vanished with the rest of nightfall’s arrival. Joey breathed out, and I turned my head for a look back at the Golden Nugget and Cactus Jack’s, both of which lit back up and shone bright against the cold desert sky.

I stood up, and I never let go of his hand.

“Let’s get back to the car,” I suggested to him. He nodded his head, and we returned down the street, back to the corner. No one traversed about the street, but at least the lights came back on.

We returned up the street to the car, but I was in no mood for driving.

“You wanna sleep in the car?” I suggested to him.

“Can we do that here?” he asked me.

“Yeah. Just so long as we don’t make it obvious. I have a blanket back here so we can cozy up for the night.”

He nodded his head, and he climbed into the backseat first. Once I took the blanket out of the way back part of the car, I climbed in over him. It wasn’t easy, especially with our boots on, but I closed the door with ease, and he reached around the driver’s seat for the lock button. The doors clicked shut, and we lay down in unison in the back seat under the blanket. His little body still trembled with fear, so I held him in my arms. I held him so close to me, because we both needed to be held after all of that.

“I never thought I would be staying the night right up the block from a haunted house but here we are,” he confessed to me. I ran my fingers through his inky black curls. I kissed him on his soft silken dark lips, as if I was kissing the finest chocolate in all the land. I put my arms around his slender waist and tugged him in closer to my body. His long black curls swept over my body like a protective blanket, even if the actual blanket itself was covering our bodies. The heels of our boots jutted out from underneath the other end and against the inside of the car door.

I could scarcely shake those ghostly shrieks from my mind. In fact, every time I played them over in my mind, I squeezed the seat of his pants, and I ran my hand up onto the small of his back. All the while, I lifted up his shirt, and I exposed his smooth skin to my fingers.

He buried his face into my chest. The crown of curls at the top of his head smelled of cloves and black pepper. I could feel his lips against my chest, and I wished that I was wearing my lace camisole just to further entice him.

“We’re okay,” I assured him, and I could feel his hands on the crest of my hips. His long fingers slithered onto the small of my back at first, and then he let his hands glide up the center of my back towards my shoulder blades. “We’re going to be okay.”

“That was nuts,” he whispered to me in a soft voice, and then he brushed his foot against my own.

That effigy may have been possessed by something, but that something had made him kiss my boots. I had made a deal with the devil to help give this man a little bit of piece of mind.

Even with the ghostly sounds firmly implanted in my mind, I could feel safe there next to him. I could feel safe with my hands on the small of Joey’s back, with my feet brushed up against his own. His boots against my own. The fact that my long pointed heels faced away from him, while he kept his pointed away from me as well. We lay there in the backseat of my car as if we were about to create an effigy for ourselves.

But if an effigy was about to come forth based on the two of us, we could have it with our boots on rather than be blinded by the shutters of the house.

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nuagederose · 2 years ago

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a tale of two joeys 🌙🩸

(now it’s dark/sci-fi joey + like blood from a stone/rags to riches joey)

#joey belladonna #anthrax #anthrax band #drawings #watercolor art #watercolor and ink #ink drawing #like blood from a stone #now it’s dark #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic art #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart

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belladonnaandulriched · 4 years ago

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amped and wired, part one

chapter eight // magnolia blvd.

pages 96, 97, and 98

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templeoftheslavegarden · 4 years ago

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haha he totally would!

#joey belladonna #lizzy graves #persistent euphoria #state of euphoria fanfic #persistence of time fanfic #crawl fanfic #joey belladonna fanfic #anthrax #anthrax fanfic #headcanon

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nowitsdarkfic · 5 years ago

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joey and lars and their mona lisa smiles

#book covers #wattpadbooks #joey belladonna #lars ulrich #anthrax #metallica #anthrax fanfics #metallica fanfiction #edits #blue #indigo #turquoise #black and white #now it's dark #who cares wins #be all end all #fanfic #fanfic trilogy

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christinescupofcoffee · 6 days ago

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dead man walking

Chapter Two: turn a blind eye

Krista waited for Alex there at the kitchen table with a cup of freshly brewed iced coffee in hand. She knew that she wouldn't be drinking coffee or having any sort of sugar for the next nine months, and even then she would have to stay away from it all. She couldn't help but think of Joey all the while. He would have made things better for himself and for her as well. He would have turned things around: she saw that side to him like no one else did before. The side that assured her that he was willing.

She gazed up at the lilies on the table before her and their narrow pointed petals, kissed with a light pink right in the middle there. Even from right across the table, she could smell them. Those flowers needed to be protected at all costs, much like how the glimmer of essence within her needed to be protected as well as Alex.

She hoped that he would be back soon enough, but she also hoped that he would take his sweet time with it all.

A slight wave of nausea swept over her but it was too late in the day for that, and Krista realized that a little bit of moving around would perhaps help her out with the feeling. She sauntered into the next room with one hand on the lower part of her belly and she swore that it had become ever so slightly rounder than she remembered. She shook her bright blonde head about to rid of the feeling within her, but they persisted regardless of what she did. She wanted to tell someone that she didn't feel good but no one else stayed with her in there in the house for the time being.

Krista rounded the short main support wall there to her right: to her left stood the small but cozy couch as well as a small window which peered out to the front yard and in turn the street: to think that that was to be a family room at one point. She kept on going until she reached the door to the hallway, which led back to her bedroom and the cozy main bathroom.

She spotted Joey's urn perched upon the shelf in the room, of which she took back to the kitchen table, and she set the urn down next to the vase. She returned to her seat there at the table and she gazed on at both. The late afternoon sun shone upon those white petals and the rim of silver on the top of the lid. The sole sound came from the wall clock in the next room.

She leaned back in the chair with her hands flat on the table in front of her: her engagement ring shone under the rays of autumnal daylight through the window before her. This big translucent gem nestled in between two black stones, now had to be put to bed along with Joey in the urn before her. Or perhaps she could save it for her child when they were born and took on a life all of their own. She adjusted it on her finger when she caught the sound of a knock on the front door, which in turn caught her off guard.

Krista scrambled back to her feet and hurried back into the next room, and she opened the door.

She was an older woman of middle stature, of which she stood below Krista's shoulders, complete with a full head of dark hair which carried a copper sheen within the afternoon sun and a face of milky smooth skin. Her pitch dark lenses indicated total blindness but she was as sharp as the emergency blade tucked inside of the tip of her walking cane: Krista had always wondered why she had a blade inside of the cane because she never saw her brandish it or use it against someone else for any reason whatsoever. Indeed, Joey had wondered about this himself right before things went downhill for him; she shivered and adjusted the edges of her knit white shawl.

“Mrs. Jones!” Krista declared.

“'Ello, Krista—Miss Belladonna, I should say,” Mrs. Jones greeted her with that thick distinctive New Zealander accent.

“I was wondering when you'd come back,” Krista confessed as she set a hand on her shoulder and guided her into the house. Mrs. Jones tapped her cane on the hardwood floor before her.

“Krista—” She stopped in her tracks and sniffled the air. “A man's cologne. Was there someone else here?”

“Um—yes. A boy named Alex. Well, he's not a boy anymore—he's twenty five years old as of this past September.”

“He's a boy to me, mind,” Mrs. Jones promised her as she led her to the kitchen table where she took the same exact spot as Alex prior to then, to the right of her. She cleared her throat and leaned her cane against the edge of the table. She then bowed her head a bit so Krista could see those tired, quiet eyes from right behind the pitch dark lenses. Without a word spoken from those lips, she lifted her head a bit and even though she had lacked that sight for years on end, it still felt as though she could see right through those walls of the house.

“I should tell you, Krista, that Peter will want to know how you're finding your money to pay the rent,” she started.

“I'll figure something out,” Krista vowed, though she knew in her heart that she had no quick fix to her money. Joey had what he had left in the bank following his dismissal and they had lived on that plus the small dues she was making from her act as a model. She knew that she would figure out something but what that something remained beyond her grasp for the time being.

Mrs. Jones turned her attention to her: the afternoon sunlight shone into the window just enough to cast a glow on those blinded eyes behind those dark lenses.

“You're pregnant,” she noted, to which Krista gasped.

“How did you know?”

“You sound a lot more—stressed than normal. Like something else has cropped up and now you're having to worry more about something other than the death of your fiance.”

Even though Krista knew she couldn't see her, she still stared into those lenses as if she had just been probed.

“When'd you find out?” Mrs. Jones asked her.

“Just a couple of days ago,” she replied in a small voice, and she bowed her head towards the surface of the table.

“So you must have conceived right before the poor boy took the lethal injection.” The wound was still raw for her, but Krista knew she had to keep on a brave face in the eyes of a blind woman.

“Yeah, Joey and I—we talked about it, but we never really settled on it much before now.” Her eyes wandered over to the urn right next to them. His remains, safely locked away, and yet his spirit stayed with her at an all too much rate. Mrs. Jones sniffled the air again.

“Flowers,” she noted.

“Lilies,” Krista corrected her. “Joey's former band mates—” She cleared her throat. “—brought them over here just today as a moment of peace.”

Mrs. Jones raised her hand and reached out for the flowers. With a restrained touch of care, her hand caressed over the smooth white petals, and she nodded her head in response to the feeling.

“Such an act of kindness,” she remarked as she moved her hand back from the vase and rubbed her fingers together, “and it makes me have hope for America as well.” She sniffled again. “There's his cologne again. What'd you say the boy's name was?”

“Alex,” Krista told her.

“Alex—” Another sniffle. “Very soft and soapy, as if he had just climbed out of the shower. A signature aroma of musicians for some peculiar reason.”

“He's a guitar player.”

“Ah! There's something sweet, too. Sweet with a slight bite to it.”

“He had a glass of root beer when he was sitting here next to me.”

“Right here?” Mrs. Jones raised her eyebrows and gestured down to the chair.

“Right where you're sitting, yeah.”

She moved her hips a bit in the seat.

“Nice in the bum,” she noted in a low voice. “A little too nice, I should say.”

The warmth hit Krista's face like a hard slap.

“A very soft, very gentle boy,” Mrs. Jones continued, to which she raised her head but she didn't look right at Krista, rather into the kitchen itself. “Keep him around, dear.”

“He's supposed to be back like—any second with his things,” Krista explained. “He was staying at a crappy hotel near here and I told him I didn't like the idea of him staying the night there.”

“So you offered him to stay with you for the night?” Mrs. Jones raised her eyebrows.

“For the time being. If—that's okay. He's fallen on hard times a bit, too. Left his old band about a year ago and broke up with his girlfriend recently to top it all off, too.”

“Love does rather strange things to a person,” she remarked in a low voice and with her eyebrows knitted together. “Some descend, some ascend, some act with such brass and power. I'll have to meet him straight away, deary. I can't really do it now, though.”

“Why not?” Krista frowned at that.

“My driver is awaiting me—and I have affairs to tend to in the meantime.” Mrs. Jones stood to her feet again and Krista walked right next to her all the way back to the front door. Though the cane did enough of a job for her, Krista still wanted to see her off in one piece.

Though autumn had fully enveloped upstate New York, the afternoon sun provided them a rich blanket of warmth all the way back to the sidewalk, where she spotted the low faded pale green car parked at the opposite end of the curb, and Krista wondered how exactly Mrs. Jones found the house when she was parked so far down the street.

“Are you gonna be alright?” she asked her.

“Of course, dear. When you lose one of your senses, the others make up for what lacks behind. Just pray that your child is born with them all intact.” Without another word and a tap on the sidewalk, Mrs. Jones walked on up the sidewalk back to the car. Krista watched her until she reached the passenger door and groped around for the handle. She climbed into the seat and then Krista doubled back to the house, and she wondered why Mrs. Jones even showed up there in the first place.

Perhaps it was to check on her in Joey's wake, albeit the same reason Alex visited her in the first place. But it was such a peculiar blind spot that she didn't bother to ask her of it at any given point. Before she could close the door, she recognized Alex's big voice from the sidewalk. She wheeled around and there he came towards her with a black canvas guitar case on his back and a courier bag slung down next to his hip. He had a look on his face as if he had just seen a ghost.

“What's going on?” she asked him.

“I just saw this guy on the sidewalk over here and he said he's your landlord,” he told her.

Krista stopped right in her tracks. If Peter had already showed up to the house, and yet he hadn't come inside at any given time when Mrs. Jones was there, and yet therein answered her question. She peered down the block to find that Mrs. Jones had already gone. One thing remained for certain and that was to keep the debt collectors at bay for the next nine months: once the baby was born, all bets were off after that.

“He's huge!” Alex continued with a look of awe riddled upon his face. “He was bigger than me!”

“Yeah, he really is...” Krista halfheartedly replied, and she set a single hand on her hip. The tingling in her stomach came from the nerves that time around and she seriously had no idea as to how to break it to Peter that the contract between them would have to change up if Alex and a newborn were to live with her. No way she would leave the house with a new life in the world, not without the risk of having that life out in the gutter.

#fanfic #fanfiction #dead man walking #krista belladonna #joey belladonna #alex skolnick #anthrax #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #my writing #writers community #writers of tumblr #chapter 2 #text #Spotify

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christinescupofcoffee · 8 days ago

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a completed work — the original now it’s dark trilogy (now it’s dark, who cares wins, and be all end all)

started — September 2019 | completed: January 2020 | genre — science fiction, noir, cyberpunk posing as fanfiction | pov — 1st person perspective | status — third draft | currently — completed! | themes — poverty, death, mind control, manipulation, mad science, family dysfunction, the rise of ai/terminator-bladerunner type stuff, ecoterrorism

blurb | Joey hasn't always had it easy. Fresh off the boat from his singing duties in Anthrax, he finds a battered young woman in a storm drain. After taking her to shelter, he runs into a gentleman named Lars Ulrich, whom, as he finds out knows a thing or two about the woman in question. Thus ensues two fellows' journey through hell and back again.

excerpt | "Kill me now," is what I say as I stare out the window. The rain is my one true friend now. It's been a while since I've been able to make a good friend on top of this--I'm sure everyone knows about it, the whole thing where if someone, and by someone I mean myself, wasn't en route to a college or a university, or working a job already, they were kind of left out in the cold. Sure, there have been plenty of acquaintances, but as far as someone I could sit with and feel myself to be true with them, it's been a while. The whole twisted thing about everything that happened was that it happened so quick. It was four years ago Scott and Frank told me I could hold the microphone in my hand. Four years ago, and last year we may as well have hiked up to the North Pole and stood up a big black flag with the word "NOT!" emblazoned on it, beholding the fact we had conquered the world in the wake of Cliff's ashes. We rose up like the phoenix, and I was the man on fire.

There is absolutely nothing like standing out in the rain with all of your things taken out from the studio, slung over your shoulder, and your old band mates were the ones throwing you out there into the darkness while the gutters overflow over your head. There isn't a feeling like it.

And if anyone believes that I had had enough, know for a fact I was asked to leave. I had vowed to rid of the problem, to replace all of the booze with black coffee. I mean, Jesus, I like to have fun with this sort of thing. What's the point of doing it if I'm not going to have a little fun with it all every now and then? And it's not like I was drinking a ton so to speak--at least I wasn't doing those drug loaded pirate raids the four of them would do with Skid Row and Ratt. But I specifically recall telling Scott, verbatim, after he threatened to leave if I did nothing, that I would not have a sip of alcohol as long as I was a member of the band. And yet, for whatever reason, that promise did not suffice or click with any of them.

I think the sound of my phone ringing this morning and waking me up will haunt me for as long as I live. I still hear Charlie's voice on the other end, telling me it was official. They had made the decision behind closed doors and I had been thrown out on my ass as of that morning, but he never elaborated why.

The next thing I remember was asking him why and the sound of the other end hanging up.

note: this is the one. This is the fic I come back to quite often, mainly because it was such a watershed moment for me. It made me realize that I have the weirdest ability to tell a story from a guy’s point of view (which in turn made me realize that my concept of gender is way more permeable and fluid than I had realized before). It was the last thing I wrote before the pandemic hit. I made inktober art for it, which Joey himself noticed on instagram and then talked about it on Jamey Jasta’s podcast on my birthday.

When I go back and read it, it’s astounding how important it is for me, personally and as a writer. It’s arguably my magnum opus.

And you’re not misreading that, either, I literally wrote the whole three books in four months.

#fanfic #fanfiction #now it’s dark #anthrax #joey belladonna #lars ulrich #science fiction #scifi #noir #cyberpunk #steampunk #mine #writers of tumblr #my writing #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers community

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christinescupofcoffee · 8 days ago

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dead man walking

it was three years ago when I wrote this fic. time to bring it out into the open 🔥

Chapter One: the needle and the damage done

It had been two weeks since he had collapsed from the dirty needle, and she still reeled from the news of it. Those words had crept over her like the icy cold fingers of death herself right across her skin. The man of her dreams and the one whom she believed to be the one for her, gone forever, all by the swipe of something that she didn't understand. What made no sense to her was the fact that she did everything she could to keep him away from the black rain.

Krista had met Joey in Kansas City when they came through on their tour for that bright and sunny yellow album with the red spiral on the cover: she had run into him during breakfast there in the hotel lobby. One thing led to another, and the next thing she knew, the man had given her his phone number to back home in upstate New York. All the date nights and the days she sneaked out of the house or after a display of fashion over the course of two years, and it all had come down to that moment where he took her by the hand and then slid down on one knee before her. He showed her the ring and she was overwhelmed with love for him.

A brand new cute little house near the shores of the lake, taken care of by a New Zealander who only went by Mrs. Jones and a mysterious man from New York City.

Everything seemed to fall in place for the two of them, until he got the tearful phone call from Charlie.

He was out. Gone. They had made the unanimous decision to rid of him, and they had their eyes set on either Mark of Death Angel or John of Armored Saint, and they had their eyes on those two men for some time at that point of the phone ringing, but Krista took him by the hand and she held him close to her.

They were to do more than merely pitch a tent. A house. A roost and a place to call their own after such a time of turmoil.

She knew it would be far more difficult given a fashion model could only do so much for herself, and on top of that, she had a wedding to plan out for them. Guests to invite. A dress to try on. So much to do with the clock over their heads and yet every day, when she woke up, she gave Joey a kiss to reassure of him of their future together.

They were bound to be husband and wife, like something she had sworn to be real and right out of the movies: she wanted to have it all planned out, all the way down to what cufflings he would wear on that big day. Because of the sudden cut to their income, they had to push back the wedding to the following summer, but Krista assured him that things would look up at that point. A lot could in fact happen within a year, as they so realized.

Even while she nestled down next to him, right by his side every single night, she still kept her eye on those brown eyes, once sparkling and bright with life and love, now as cold as the earth which comprised the shores of Lake Ontario. His thin body seemed far thinner than she had remembered, the same body she had fallen in love with over and over again when they lay down together.

Every caress of his skin and he seemed less present each and every time. His sun kissed skin dried out and turned as cold as ice some nights, even when he cuddled underneath the blankets to keep warm. That first winter right after the news was the hardest. Each lake effect blizzard seemed worse than the last: the house seemed colder and colder every single night the snows fell over them.

But Krista kept her head up. She knew that love would keep them together. She knew that there was no way she could glue his broken heart together unless he found the courage within him, and thus she kept her patience with him. Before either of them knew it, the snows melted away and the first colorful blooms of springtime emerged from the cold earth.

On the summer nights before the wedding, she stroked his back and his shoulder when he lay on his side and shivered from the feeling within him.

His brown eyes washed out with the red of blood and his body barely stood up on his own two feet. His coarse dark hair wilted and withered despite the blooms all around them and within the yard, and the nourishing warmth of the daylight. She still kissed him and touched him, however.

She was going to love him no matter what happened to either of them.

She was going to love him all over no matter what happened. Her vow rang true against all odds, until the odds finally caught up with his emeciated body and his flagging energy. He withered with the impending autumn and the transformation of colors out in the yard and around the shores of the lake.

All summer long, she advised him to sit out on the porch within the sunshine, at least to feel some genuine warmth because if her body couldn't do it, then the caress of the sun held the power for him. He did and he coughed and choked on the otherwise humid air from the lake, as if he had been cut and dried out like a thin strip of meat.

The last thing she heard from him before she called up the medics was the sound of his own voice.

“Krista! Krista, I'm dying!”

His lips as blue as the sky overhead and his skin as cold as the depths of the lake.

The medics came within a bright flash and a glimpse. She pressed her lips to his own before they swept him away to his fate.

She may as well have been caked in his own blood. The blood of the love of her life. The blood of the Iroquois nation on her hands. Anthrax needed to know about it and perhaps they could have the fear of god themself put into their hearts.

At that point, they had released their first album with John, the royally violet tinged Sound of White Noise, back in the middle of May. How appropriately named, she figured, given the sheer amount of impenetrable white noise that surrounded their ears as if to bestow them oblivion to what had happened to their former brother.

One night. One night was all it took for everything to shut down.

When the head nurse called her, she told Krista that the cause was obstruction of the lungs as well of the kidneys. What brought it all on was unknown at the moment. But nothing could keep the tears at bay for her.

The tears and the intense wave of emotion deep within her. He was so close to her not long before then. She swore she had seen a glimmer of life within those tired eyes the night before. A glimmer of life and rapture, the Joey she had fallen in love with a few years before.

The money she had put up for the wedding returned to her and in turn, she gave it to the mortuary for his cremation. The beautiful royal blue urn filled with his ashes, and with a lid which sealed shut. Though she wished she could scatter him over the shores of the lake and he would nourish the earth with his love, she needed his spirit around for when the time came.

One afternoon, two weeks following the cremation ceremony, Krista was met with a bouquet of pearly pink and white lilies on her front step, courtesy of Frankie. Next to the flowers came a hand written note in black ink:

Krista—

The five of us are stunned, shocked, and beyond words for the loss. I am, especially. I hope you can forgive us: we didn't want to be that hard on him, and now we wish we never were.

I should probably also tell you that Charlie was wiping away tears when he first called Joey and told him he was out. Charlie and I especially didn't want him to leave, and I can tell you right now that Scott regretted it almost immediately, even before Joey passed, but we're in business. We had to get serious, and we had to make a decision. If it's any comfort to you at all, new presses of White Noise will be dedicated in his memory.

We love you to the moon and back, and we hope to see you soon,

Frank, Charlie, Scott, Dan, and John

She nodded her head and smiled at that.

No way she could hold it against them, especially after all of that. She took a whiff of the lilies and closed her eyes to better take in the aroma.

“Krista?” A big voice behind her caught her attention. She turned her attention to the sidewalk behind her: there stood a tall slender boy wrapped in all black, his jet black hair pinned back over the crown of his head to stay out of his handsome face and his deep set steely eyes. If she had no idea about him, she swore he was a vampire who walked amongst the daylight. He struck her as familiar, but she never knew where she had seen him before.

He showed her a little smile and those deep eyes sparkled with life.

“Alex?” he said as he pressed a hand to his chest. “Alex Skolnick?”

She gasped.

“Ohhhh, the kid from—” She paused for a second. “Testament, is it?”

“Yes'm!”

“I thought you looked familiar,” she greeted him as she descended the steps: even though she was rather tall herself, he stood before her akin to a radio tower. “How are you?”

“Eh,” he shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand over the right side of his forehead, “today's been better than most, I'd say. How are you, though?”

“I just got some flowers from Frank—Frank Bello,” she said as she showed him the bouquet.

“Ooh, yes, lovely! That was sweet of him, too.”

“You want to come inside for something to drink?” she offered him. “You look rather road weary.”

“I came up here just to see how you were doing because I just got news of it myself,” he explained, “I was down in the city yesterday when I caught wind of it. And so—yes, I'd love to!”

Krista led him into the little house there on the side of the street, surrounded by tall oak trees which were in the process of shedding their lush orange leaves. As she held the door for him and then walked into the house after him, a strange sensation crept up inside of her. It had been there for some time at that point, and a feeling which she knew and remained in the dark about, and a feeling she had no idea she would feel before. She set the flowers down on the coffee table and she thought about a brand new ceramic vase just for them as she made her way into the kitchen.

Alex took his seat at the kitchen table and his long narrow legs spread out before him. Just like how Joey used to sit there: he ran his fingers through his black hair, as black as Joey's ringlets. For a young man, he seemed so serious, especially when she poured him a glass of root beer straight out of the fridge. She set it down before him and he glanced up at her with bit of a grimace on his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked him as she took her seat next to him. “You look like something is—upsetting you. Like, you're distracted by something.”

Alex paused, and he held his glass of root beer close to his chest. Even with the jet black hair, she could see it over the right of his brow: the glimmer of gray upon his head which appeared more prominent than the last time she had seen him live with Testament. The last time she had seen him, he also had more pep in his step. He had traveled there to upstate New York for a reason, and not because he wanted to see her. He nibbled on his bottom lip and he flexed those lanky fingers on the glass' side.

“Well, it's two things,” he began in a low voice, “the first thing is I left Testament.”

“Really?” She was stunned, and he slowly nodded, albeit with a frown on his face.

“It was my doing, though,” he explained. “I had been wanting to leave for about a year so I finally did last Halloween. I just want to do something other than metal, you know? There's a lot I like and there's a lot I feel like I can do with my fingers and the strings of a guitar. So—I left.”

“Oh, absolutely. And, what's the other thing?”

“My girlfriend and I broke up. About a week ago.”

“Aww, I'm so sorry,” she declared as she set a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, and she was the first person I told about my decision to leave.” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “The first person I told about it and—she didn't even stick around long enough to back me up.” He took a sip of his root beer with a pensive look on his face. “I was in a jazz band called The Urge, but they broke up recently. Where I go from here is—anyone's guess.”

His arrival there at the house felt like a godsend of sorts: a woman who had just lost her groom to be and the love of her life crossed paths with a young man who had found himself in a realm of turmoil. Love from the outside could not save either of them, and she knew this to be true when she glanced down at her body. He turned his attention to her and frowned.

“You okay?” he asked her. Krista pursed her lips at the question. She had no one else to tell it to, but here she was given this gift of another boy.

“Don't tell Mrs. Jones, please,” she whispered to him.

“Of course I won't,” he assured her with a shake of his head.

“Mrs. Jones, by the way, is my caretaker—the owner of this house is a man named Peter.”

“Peter?”

“Peter Steele. He lives down in New York City. If he finds out about this, too, he'll get all over my ass about it. I have to find a way to tell him about it at some point, so don't worry about me.”

“What is it?” he kindly asked her. She shifted her weight and glanced down at the waist band of her denim jeans, still snug against her waist.

“I'm pregnant,” she confessed.

“Seriously?” Alex raised his dark eyebrows and gaped at her, to which she nodded. “When'd you find out?”

“Two days ago,” she continued, “I was feeling a little—sick to my stomach when I woke up that morning, and I just—had the feeling within me.”

“So Joey went two weeks ago...” His voice trailed off, and she nodded her head.

“Yup. I took a test two days ago and it came up positive.”

Alex shrugged his narrow shoulders and took another sip from his glass. “Well, at least you have—something—to remember him by,” he pointed out.

“Oh, absolutely. And I know that Joey would've wanted me to do something for us, even before we got the phone call. We had talked about it—you know, raising children, but nothing had ever stuck in place, though.” She squinted her eyes at him. “How 'bout you? Have you ever thought of having kids yourself?”

“I have somewhat,” he confessed, “like it crossed my mind a little bit when I turned eighteen and again when I was in a relationship, but—I don't really see myself in that position. Never really have, either. I'd rather expand my mind and my playing abilities than build a house. Raising kids is hard, too, like even I can tell you that. Lot of money and patience—you know, things I don't have readily at my disposal. I knew when I left Testament that my income was going to be at zero for a while, completely screwing my chances of procreating, too. Not that I had much of a chance to begin with. Jazz is in a weird spot right now, and has been for some time now.”

“Do whatever your heart tells you,” she advised him. “Play to your heart's desire.”

“Just some sick—la di da di da di da.” He rolled his eyes up into his head and she giggled at him for it.

“Well, what kind of music do you want to play?” she asked him.

“I don't really know. I just want to find myself and be as good as I possibly can be.” She chuckled at that.

“That should be everyone's goal,” she stated.

“Right? I don't want to limit myself—and I know that sort of thing can make it seem like I'm stepping on people's toes, too. When I told Eric I was leaving, he was like 'what? No! You can't go!' and I was like, 'it's my decision, dude. Take it or leave it.'” He took another sip and then his expression turned serious. “I'm a little afraid to ask if it was hard on Joey. I mean, I know it was but I never really knew the full extent of it, though.”

“You have no idea,” Krista said, and the tears welled up again. “I tried to help him. I tried to get him to clean himself up and—he just—” She closed her eyes and bowed her head, and Alex reached out for a comforting touch on her part.

“Clean himself up?”

She raised her head with tears brimmed in her eyes.

“He wasn't hooked to anything when I came into the picture about four years ago,” she assured him. “So I don’t know how he got a hold of it. I don’t know, Alex. I just don’t know.” He knitted his eyebrows together and then he turned to the window before them, to the view of the street and the trees and shrubs right across the way.

“Speaking of weird spots, metal is in such a—strange spot right now,” he noted. And he turned his attention back to her. “Yeah, says the guy who bailed from a metal band.”

She chuckled at that.

“You ought to go to Seattle,” she advised him. “I'm sure the people there will welcome you.”

“Nah—I like New York. My parents both hail from Sheep's Head—down in Brooklyn.” He took another sip of root beer and that time, he closed his eyes. A stray tendril of hair dangled down over his left temple; she eyed the prominent tip of his nose as well as the delicate skin underneath his chin and the rather full shape of his Adam's apple.

“You're a very beautiful boy,” she confessed with a shake of her head. “A very beautiful Libra boy. Joey was a Libra, too.” He set down the glass before him and turned to her again.

“His birthday's two weeks after me,” he noted. “Right? I was born on September twenty ninth and he was born—” He hesitated.

“October thirteenth,” she filled in.

“Gotcha—so, yeah, two weeks apart! I turned twenty five.”

“He had just turned thirty three before he went.”

“God...” He shook his head at that. “It almost feels like losing your big brother. This older entity who just stood over you and you had no choice but to look up to him.”

He downed the rest of his drink and then he ran his fingers through his hair.

“I should probably get going,” he told her in a soft voice, “it's going to be dark soon and I don't really like being in a wide open space like upstate when it's nightfall. It's what I get for growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area where the fog comes in and just settles over everything and makes it all spooky.”

Krista chuckled again and she set a hand on his shoulder. “Well, thank you, Alex. This was very kind of you to come here.”

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“When I heard the news, I just—” He shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to do something. Just knowing how close Testament is to Anthrax and everything. Things are up in the air for me—and how, that's an understatement—so it just makes sense. I want to find a kindred spirit, if you will.”

She showed him a little smile and cocked her head to the side. “Where you are staying tonight?” she asked him.

“Just a little hotel not too far from here—I walked here so it's—” He gestured behind him. “—within walking distance.”

“You should stay here,” she told him. “I don't really like the idea of you staying in a crappy hotel, especially after everything you've been through lately.”

He flashed her a thoughtful look, but he never said anything.

“Besides I'm—” She set her hands on her stomach.

“Just barely,” Alex said with a little crooked smile.

“But it's my instinct talking, though,” Krista insisted with a serious look on her face. “I'm serious, Alex. I don't want you staying in a place that's less than comforting.”

He paused again, and he gazed down at the rim of his glass. “I'll get my things and I'll be right back,” he told her.

“I'll be here when you get back, too,” she told him.

“I have a feeling you and I will be grinding this axe a long time,” he admitted to her, and she rested her hand on her stomach again, which once more, barely showed any sign that was with child. “'Scuse me—you and—the one to be—will grind the axe for a long time.”

“I'm sure you will, too,” she assured him with a wink.

#fanfic #fanfiction #testament #testament band #alex skolnick #anthrax #krista belladonna #joey belladonna #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #chapter 1 #text #dead man walking

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feverinfeveroutfic · 17 days ago

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Tijuana sunrise | kinktober 2024 | day xx.: “pulmonaria”

pairing: chuck schuldiner x oc | joey belladonna x oc

prompt: voyeurism

word count: 3336

song: “beauty” by mötley crüe

Something about the mere suggestion of Joey supposedly walking in on Eric and me having a moment gave me all manner of thoughts running through my mind. It also helped matters that we were not fully in private, either. There was a big part of me that feared this, that made me reconsider everything that was going on here with me. I had my doubts, especially when I thought about the first seeds of a relationship with Chuck down at the Mongolian barbecue, and I knew that it would have to take a good, long explanation for me to convince him of what I had done with Joey, and almost with Eric as well.

But it would have to wait until he had more time to spare, time to spend with me than with his work at the restaurant. There was no way I could tell him about it when the place was packed full of people and he was up to his elbows in cooking oil, slices of beef, and thick, pillowy noodles ready to be made on the hot flat metal grill.

But then Joey left for his next tour stop, and Eric had gone back to the Bay Area. All my friends had returned on home. I was alone in Carson City once again. I also had the realization that I needed to go and talk to Chuck, tell him the truth when I had the chance. But if there was any sliver of light in all of this, it was the fact that the two of them had given me their phone numbers and I had a date with Eric at the Reno Arch.

I finally gathered the chance to go and talk to Chuck come a Tuesday morning, a few days after my encounter with Eric and a few days before I was supposed to see him again up at the Reno Arch. It was a cool day, cool enough for me to put on a hooded sweater. I had washed my hair and let it fly back over my shoulders so as to air dry. A shiver ran down my spine and I hurried across the asphalt parking lot towards the bistro from before.

I recognized Chuck next to the railing on the other side of the building, where he faced a grassy area and a small picnic table. Behind him was a line which meandered inside: even with the impending morning rain, there was still a long line for coffee. When I strode on up to him, he turned his head and showed me that dimpled little smile.

“Hey,” I greeted him, and he opened his arms for me.

“I was hoping to see you again,” he confessed to me in a low voice.

“I was, too, especially when it felt like I had stood you up the last time,” I said, and he gently patted me on the shoulder.

“You didn’t stand me up,” he assured me. “Things just fell sideways and then I realized I hadn’t even seen you yet. But let’s do something together this time. You and me.”

I showed him a smile and nestled up next to him there on the bench. A chill perforated the air around us, and I could feel the first rain of the season upon us.

“Do you have today off?” I asked him, and I rested a hand on his knee. He showed me a dimpled smile, and then he lifted his gaze up to my face. Those eyes twinkled under the gray sunlight like a pair of raw gems, and those lips curled up so tightly into a pleasant little smile.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he replied in a low voice. “You wanna go and hang out together at—the—the place?”

“Let’s go there first, and then… I’m thinking of another place, too,” I confessed to him, and I brought my gaze to the hill on the northern edge of town, the hill that looked like a big chocolate kiss with a radio tower on the very top of the crest.

“The hill?” he asked me. “And I believe that’s where the shooting range is, too?”

“Past that,” I told him. “I’m thinking… up by Washoe Lake or the forests at the bottom of Mount Rose. There’s a couple of country clubs up there as well as some places where… we can be alone together.”

“As long as we can get up there before it snows,” he said, and that dimpled smile was still very much in place on his squarish, cute face. “The day is still young so we can go on up there and then come back again.”

“Come back again to the place,” I followed along, and I leaned in for a kiss on the side of his face. “We can come back to the place and have the smell of ginger carry us forth like our very own incense.”

He bowed his head, whereby I caught the warm blush blooming up in his skin. I kissed him again on the face, that time a firmer, longer kiss on his skin. He lifted his head, whereby he looked on at me right in the face with a slight hooding to his eyes. I couldn’t help but smile at him.

I put my hands on either side of his face, and he returned the favor. I treated him to a soft, tender one right on the lips, and he pushed back against me to gel into the feeling. Never before had I kissed someone while we were both holding each other’s faces, but there we were doing just that with one another.

Chuck lowered his hands down to my shoulders while I kept my hands up on his face. The cool, crisp wind blew all around us, and there were people congregated behind us in a dense cluster for their late morning cups of coffee, but we were out there in the open, making out with one another. Something about the thrill of having a moment like that in front of a bunch of people, and it wasn’t going to be simple little public displays of affection: I wanted this to be a full on session between us with all eyes on us like they were looking on at an exhibit.

But Chuck pulled his tongue out from my mouth. He licked his lips, let out a low whistle, and ran his fingers through his hair, albeit at a slow pace as if to further entice me.

“Come,” he coaxed me. “Let’s go ahead and have some fun together up the hill.” He flashed me a wink, and then he took me by the hand. I slung my purse over my shoulder, and we headed on out of that grassy area, past the bistro and the Mongolian barbecue to the parking lot. He brought me to his little black car with the Metallica sticker in the back window and the white walled tires.

“Had no idea a line cook at a Mongolian barbecue could find some white walls,” I remarked as he unlocked the doors for us, and I climbed into the front seat first, complete with my purse down on the floor under the dashboard.

“I actually got lucky getting those,” he confessed to me. “I was buying some new tires for this thing, and the mechanic brought out the white walls on accident, like he didn’t even realize it when he rolled them out and put them onto my car.”

“And you never said a word to him?” I raised my eyebrows at him, and I chuckled at that. He shook his head, and that dimpled smile returned with a vengeance. He started up the car, and even though the thin veil of clouds graced the sky over our heads, I contemplated on putting on my sunglasses. I was in a car with my boy, a car fitted with white walled tires, and we were on our way up to the country clubs right near the shores of Washoe Lake and under the cold weight of Mount Rose.

We drove along Carson Street towards the hillside, and we wound up along the crest. I peered out the driver’s side window, just to behold Carson Valley one last time for a little while. Chuck then caught my eye and showed me a lopsided little smile once again, and then I hunkered down in the seat right next to him. He drummed his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel in response.

Every so often, I caught him licking his lips and shifting his weight in the seat. He was hungry, and if I was honest, I was feeling that way myself.

We rounded the bend, whereby we beheld the view of Washoe Valley nestled in the hills and down below the slopes of Mount Rose as well as the mountains that lined Lake Tahoe off to the left. Joey flashed through my mind right then, but I couldn’t say anything to Chuck about it, however. No way that I could, and the thought of it never came once when I found it to be right.

The winds gusted hard on the side of his car as we rolled along the side of the lake and towards the one winding road which took us to the trees and the country club. I had only been up there once or twice, but I remembered it once we left the main highway and looped down to the underpass.

He hung a left, and we headed under the highway and towards the trees. It almost felt as though we were headed up to a haunted castle in the trees, a place where we could find some treasure or Excalibur once again trapped in the stone. Chuck hummed to himself as we wound along the base of Mount Rose; I huddled even closer to him at the sight of the cold mountain tops over our heads, and he treated me to a light little kiss on the side of my face.

“Not here,” he told me. “Not while I’m driving, anyway.” I showed him my tongue, followed by a puckering of my lips at him.

We rounded another bend, and we found ourselves in the realm of the country club in the trees. From a distance, I could see a series of hot tubs and a spa in the very front part of the complex, tucked back behind some glass.

“I hope they can let us in,” he confessed to me with a little tone of excitement to his voice.

“If I remember correctly, they let outsiders in just so long as we can pay a fee,” I told him with a drumming of my fingers on the top of the door’s interior.

“And I am more than willing to do just that,” he assured me, and the smile returned to his face once more.

We descended the side of the ridge to the parking lot, whereby we took a spot about three rows back from the big glass front double doors. Chuck and I climbed out of the car, and he locked it up; we met up at the front grill, right behind the planter next to the car as well as the big red Alfa Romeo parked in front of us. I spotted the trail next to the parking lot, the one lined with the low pinion pines, tall cottonwoods which had begun to shed their leaves, and scraggly sagebrush still standing despite the cooler weather around us.

Once we were at the mouth of the trail, he raised his elbow up to me.

“Shall we?” he offered me.

“We shall,” I declared, and we hooked arms, and we walked on up the pathway towards the country club nestled back in the trees. The wind was cold on our faces, and I knew that if it was going to rain down in Carson City, Mount Rose was going to get pelted with snow: I could feel it in the air. We walked along the bases of the trees, whereby I spotted thick bushes of leaves that resembled to bouquets on the desert floor. Little bright purple and pink flowers bloomed up from the thick streaky triangular leaves, whereby they were protected by the trees right next to us. With the cold wind and the feeling rain and snow in the air, they seemed almost out of place, as if the country club had planted them there at some point during the hot days of summer.

“What are these?” Chuck asked aloud.

“No idea, but…” I crouched down before them for a better look at the filmy little petals shooting up from the plant. “I like them, though. I like them a lot.”

I stood up again, and he put his arm around me. The two of us walked along the trail, all along the tall cottonwood trees as they extended up to the graying sky. When we reached the doors, he held the one on the left for me, to which I thanked him with a smile. We were greeted by the smell of soap and steam to the left, and the entrance to what appeared to be the front lobby on the right.

Chuck once again took me by the hand and led me over to the left side of the room: though we hadn’t paid a fee, I had not a care in the world, and neither did he. After all, we were alone in there, alone with nothing more than our own clothes.

Once we were in the vast room, I shut the door behind me. The windows extended from floor to ceiling, and a fine layer of condensation had formed along the pane, which gave it a frosted look and thus sent a shiver down my spine. The ceiling was comprised of swirled peacock blue tiles, while glittering pearlescent white hexagons covered the floor. Hot tubs decorated the floor before us; Chuck turned his head towards me, and he showed me a dimpled little smile.

“Shall we?” he offered me in a soft voice, which then echoed around the room.

“Please.” I set my purse down on the shelf next to me. I held onto the bottom hem of my sweater, and I peeled it up off my body. I placed it on the shelf by my purse, and then he took off his sweater in the same fashion. I was wearing a little plain white shirt underneath my sweater, but he rested his hand on his bare chest, and very slowly, he ran it down onto his slim, svelte belly.

It was right then when I felt the moisture and the heat from the hot tubs around us. I ran my fingers through my hair, and I tossed my head back a bit as if I was modeling for his attention and his attention only. I looked on at him with the tip of my tongue poked out from my lips by a small bit.

He had kicked off his shoes, and at that point, he was letting his pants fall down his legs to his ankles, and he showed me his crotch as well as the bare, toned tops of his thighs.

I stripped off my shirt, followed by my pants.

“We’re looking at hot tubs here, Portia, my dear,” he declared, and he turned to the one off to my left. I watched him step over to the edge of the tub, which looked to about as big as an actual bathtub, and big enough for the two of us no less. He let his underwear fall down his legs and down to his ankles. He stepped out of them, and he held onto the metal bar that descended down into the warm waters. He then reached down and pushed a button, and the tub whirred to life before us.

I stood there in my underwear as he stepped, one foot after the other, down into the hot tub.

“How is it?” I asked him over the hum of the tub.

“Water’s perfect,” he replied, and he took his seat by the steps. He gestured for me to join him.

Gingerly, and since I was facing a big floor-to-ceiling window with nothing more than a layer of moisture on the inside to protect me from wandering eyes outside, I decided to take off my underwear and duck into the water in one fell swoop. I stood at the edge of the tub, and I dropped my panties around my ankles. One foot in first, followed by the other. I sank down onto the step so the water covered my thighs. I slid down onto the next one: when the water touched the bottoms of my breasts, I took off my bra. I ducked into the water and set it down next to my panties. I paddled over to him there on the other side of the steps, where I saw he was leaned up against one of the jets.

I caught a whiff of something herbal and peppery around us, and he did as well.

“Incense,” he remarked, and we sank down together into the hot tub. The bubbles whirred all around the seats and our bare asses in a dense whirlpool. I leaned in over to give him another kiss on the lips; he then lifted a hand and ran his fingers through my hair. A few drops of water trickled down the side of my face and onto my neck.

I couldn’t resist myself. I lunged for him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pressed my hands against his chest. The water protected us. The warmth engulfed us.

His one hand rested on the small of my back, while his other hand pressed against my ass. His fingers curled around me: the bubbles swirled around his fingers which felt as though I was being tickled.

Chuck held onto me as he pushed me into the water: it felt as if he was about to give me a baptism. When I lay flat on my back, he brought his head down onto my belly for some kisses. Kisses all the way down to my crotch, and all while he had a hold on me. I gasped from the feeling. It was a feeling that I simply could not get in icy cold glacial water.

“Holy shit.” I knew that upstate accent anywhere. I lifted my head for a better look to find Joey standing there at the doorway with one hand on the door panel itself. He stood there with his mouth agape and one hand clutched at his chest.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Chuck told him, and then he slipped his tongue into my exposed hood. My back arched against the water, and the top of my head dipped down into it. Though my hair was cleaned, I could use another washing. He was eating me out as I lay on my back in the warm bubbling water and with Joey standing there in the doorway. And we were in a place that we had no business being in, either.

I came hard as a result. Three times. And each time, I wanted Joey to see with his very eyes.

Chuck took his tongue out from my hood, and I gasped for air as I lay on my back before him. I raised my gaze up to Joey there behind us: he had closed the door behind like a good boy, but nothing could deny the fact that he had watched this whole time. But no way I was going to explain this whole thing, though, especially not to Chuck. No way I could explain to Chuck and the big grin on his face why Joey had such a twinkle in his eye, even when I looked on at him upside down and with my eyes filled with water.

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josiebelladonna · 3 months ago

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and the actual banners themselves:

paradise is the one for my one and only, alex skolnick, on his birthday. tijuana sunrise is the main bunch. hungry lion revolves around a kink closest to me, the kink surrounding all things human belly. i am nearly done with paradise and approaching halfway with the other two!

Masks (“Treacle”)

Deep Throating / Public Sex (“And You Will Know Me”)

Temperature Play (“Cactus Jack’s”)

Aphrodisiacs (“Cardamom Kisses”)

Sadism/Masochism (“Bluebonnets”)

Lace/Leather (“Wandering and Wandering”)

Blood Kink (“Hai-Bar”)

Stripping (“Espresso”)

Knife Play (“Songkran Drought”)

Aquaphilia (“Tierra Del Fuego”)

Cross-dressing + Sex Toys (“Jack of Hearts”)

Pyrophilia (“Areias do Tempo”)

Accidental Stimulation (“Red”)

Prostitution (“Lily Munster Ain’t Got Nothin’ On You”)

Orgasm Denial (“Ugly Truth”)

Nipple Play (“‘Til Tel Aviv”)

Masturbation (“Sandstone”)

Body Worship (“Playa La Ropa”)

Seduction (“Bastards and Boozehounds”)

Voyeurism (“Pulmonaria”)

Branding (“Prayer Hands”)

Hand-jobs (“Spiderwebs on the Heart”)

Scars (“Olives”)

Late Night (“Don the Beachcomber”)

Boot Worship (“Lady Godiva’s House”)

Threesome (“Devil’s Tea Time”)

Erotic Photos (“Ten Miles High”)

Intimate Artistry (“Amorsolo”)

Graveyard Sex (“Lilac Treehouse”)

Erotic Asphyxiation (“Painted Roses”)

Olfactophilia (Scent) (“Lunatic Kibbitz”)

🌻 tijuana sunrise bestows us with its warmth september 30, 9pm pacific time

Roleplay (“Clouds of Violet”)

Corsets (“Bridgeport”)

Hair Kink (“Ivy”)

Formal wear (“Blood Garnets”)

Gun Play (“Sugar Kane”)

Strip Poker (“Neon and Argon”)

Shibari (“Hey, Jim”)

Lingerie (“Broomsticks”)

Bathtub (“Richer, Richest”)

One Night Stand (“Burning Desire”)

Phone Sex (“The Dream Catcher”)

Halloween (“The Cannibal”)

Day of the Dead (“Black Pudding of Bones”)

Rosh Hashanah (“Gold Rush”)

Spanking (“Rhubarb Pie”)

Voice Kink (“The Faceless One”)

❤️‍🔥 paradise sets sail from tierra del fuego september 29, midnight, atlantic time

Warm food on a cold day (“smoky”)

Pillow (“black satin”)

Ate too fast (“Imodium”)

Illness (“rafa”)

First date (“Jesus H.ad a Stroke”)

Kink (“infernal bloodlust”)

Stuffing (“what’s with the shirt?”)

Vacation (“cruzin’”)

Eating contest (“rich tea”)

Bakery (“with a schmear”)

Trying something new (“rumor has it”)

Rumbles and growls (“are you afraid?”)

Surprise (“february ghosts”)

Button popping (“peek a boo!”)

Stomachache (“hide me?”)

Hand feeding (“white velvet cake”)

Belly rubs (“rabbit’s foot”)

Weight gain (“needles”)

Indulgence (“cut your crooked teeth”)

Drink (“bleedforme”)

Emeto (“don’t look so shocked”)

Cooking (“just eat fast food”)

Hunger (“ginger snaps”)

Content creator (“have a biscuit”)

In public (“walk in the woods”)

Drama king/queen (“black cat”)

Party (“SHake Up wiTh gaUges of Perfect MAlt or DiamonDs or whiskeY”)

Sleepy (“crimson silk”)

Spicy food (“small dogs or worms”)

Kisses (“devil’s elevenses”)

Sweets (“white russian”)

🍩 the hungry lion throws itself on the antelope begins its prowl september 30, 9:30pm pacific time

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feverinfeveroutfic · 24 days ago

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Tijuana sunrise | kinktober 2024 | day xiii.: “red”

pairing: eric peterson x oc + joey belladonna x oc

prompt: accidental stimulation

word count: 3155

song: “feel like making love” by bad company

happy birthday joey!! 💜

Though I had a relationship of sorts with Chuck, I had quite the inkling for Joey. Straight out of New York and out of the job, just trying to make his way through life. He was also quite the interesting character, too, given his love of things like comfortable clothing regardless of whether or not they were made for him.

I knew that I would have to see him again before he left for his next show, and I knew that he wanted to see me again as well. No way I could tell Chuck about it, either: I had the first seedlings of my relationship with him but I also had Joey on the side. Something about it felt right by me, and I wondered if I could run it by Chuck when I saw him again.

I knew that he liked me, and yet I had my doubts with it all. Maybe I should’ve done it sooner, and maybe I should’ve run it by him when Joey had first entered the picture back at the restaurant, but it was rather late at that point. I had to clear the air with him at some point, however. I loved the boy, and I knew that he loved me, especially given how much he was more than willing to be comfortable with me and give me things to eat, and out in the open no less.

To keep it up with Joey and be a love to him, but also keep everything together with Chuck.

After our initial encounter, Joey told me to meet him for lunch at the cafe next door to the restaurant, and I hoped that I wouldn’t be able to see Chuck there at the outside patio because I was unwilling to give him an explanation as of yet. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to explain to him that I loved going into so many directions with who I loved.

I looked on at the possibility of having to explain that to him and he would look on at me with a glaze over his eyes.

It was a cool morning when I brought my car to the cafe in question, one where I contemplated huddling inside of there with a cup of coffee cradled in hand, and one where I wondered if Joey was going to take me up to Reno afterwards. I had promised Chuck to spend the morning with him the next day, and I hoped that Joey would be more than willing to take me back home before it grew to be too late in the night.

I knew that he was facing a late night himself, and all I could do was think about as to how all of this was going to go between us. As far as I knew, it wasn’t. But I was going to have fun with this regardless of anything that happened.

I opened the door of the cafe and padded inside. The place was packed to the gills with people for the lunch rush, but I wove my way through the small congregations of people towards the bar to nick a cup of coffee for myself. I rubbed shoulders with a guy already there at the counter who seemed to be awaiting a cup of espresso for himself.

He was a short stubby little guy with long inky black hair down to his waist, and he was wrapped in a little black jacket with a sliver of red upon his chest; before him was a black Stetson hat with a band of rhinestoned black lace around the base of the crown. He turned his attention to me and showed me a quaint little smile.

“It’s awfully cozy in here,” he stated, and he folded his hands before him on the bar’s surface.

“It really is,” I told him. “I hope that we have a chance at some hot dogs and a beer.”

“Yeah, I didn’t go all this way for a beer just to be turned away,” he told me as he leaned in closer to me. “You know?”

“I definitely know,” I assured him with a nod. “I actually drove over to Fallon just for a steak once.”

And he showed me a grin at that. “Did you, really?”

“Yeah! It was a few years ago, actually. I didn’t feel like eating anywhere else so I decided to go all the way out to Fallon for a New York steak with some French fries. And let me tell you, it was well worth the drive. I got home at almost midnight.”

“Did you have dessert, too?”

“Of course. A nice big slice of tiramisu, which was also incredible.”

“I’d love to try tiramisu at some point,” he confessed, and then he flashed a knowing glance at me. “Surely, at some point I can find a place for the good stuff.”

“Oh, you will,” I assured him, and he extended his hand out to me.

“I’m Eric,” he introduced himself to me.

“Portia,” I replied, and his long thick fingers curled around the back of my hand; his palm was cool to the touch, which told me he had a warm heart within him. “Are you new here?”

“Visiting,” he replied with a quick toss of his smooth black hair. “I’m going to see some friends at a show up in Reno tonight.” And my mind jumped to Joey’s band almost immediately.

“Joey Belladonna?” I asked him.

“As a matter of fact, yeah,” he said with a nod of his head, and then he showed me a playful little grin. “Why, you seeing him, too?”

“I am! I’m invited backstage.”

“Oh, wow.” He raised his eyebrows at that. “I think I just might run into you there.”

“Run into you and throw my arms around you,” I teased him. “Then take you to go and find some tiramisu.”

The barista strode up before him with a cup of espresso in hand, and then she turned to me to ask me what I wanted.

“Double shot espresso with some vanilla cream,” I told her, to which she nodded her head at me. Eric then turned to me with his eyebrows raised up.

“Double shot espresso,” he remarked. “That’ll put some hair on your chest.”

I peeked down inside of my shirt, and he burst out laughing at that. I flashed him a grin, and then I watched the barista make up my cup of coffee. Two hearty shots of that warm tender espresso complete with a caress of vanilla, and she slid it back across the bar over to me in exchange for the five dollar bill from me.

I turned to Eric, who still stood there next to me with his cup of coffee in hand.

“Aw, you waited for me,” I remarked.

“In a crowded place like this, yeah, you definitely should have someone wait for you,” he vowed to me. We retreated back towards the front door, where Joey emerged from outside, black curls disheveled and his sunglasses and shirt crooked.

“There you are!” I declared, and he showed me a toothy grin at that.

“Here I am!” he echoed me, out of breath, and he gestured to Eric on the left of me. “And I see you met the dynamic Eric Peterson, too.”

“Met and bought coffee with, no less,” Eric said with a raise of his cup towards him before he took a sip. He licked his lips and cleared his throat. “Wow, that’s a good cup of Joey.”

Joey himself smiled at that, and then he patted both of us on the shoulders before he headed into the crowded cafe for something for himself. Eric and I congregated outside under the sun for a few moments, and he turned to me with a slight squint to his eyes.

“So when are you going backstage?” he asked me.

“I’m thinking… before the show,” I replied. “I’ll have to wait until Joey comes on back out to tell me. Or us, rather.”

He flashed me a wink when Joey himself returned outside with a receipt in one hand.

“Hey, you,” I greeted him once he came back within earshot of us.

“Hey! I got a number.”

Eric and I gaped at one another, much to Joey’s confusion.

“What?”

“I didn’t take a number,” I said.

“Yeah, you didn’t!” Eric declared. “The girl in there must have thought you were with me.” He chuckled at that as he took a sip, and Joey raised his eyebrows at me.

“Well! After all that fun we had at the lake yesterday, and yet you look like you belong to another dude.”

“What fun?” Eric then asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Joey promised him.

Indeed, Eric and I were both hanging out with Joey up in Reno, at the long low building on the outside of the Silver Legacy. We had taken our lunch there with him, and yet he wasn’t at all done with the coffee and refreshments, especially when the crew came into question.

I was more than willing to have a second cup of coffee, even if it meant that I was going to stay up all night. I hoped that Chuck would understand when I saw him again the next day.

Joey had gone off into another room to fetch the coffee and what he described as “finger sandwiches”, even though they sounded like chocolate and coconut Twinkies sliced in half, and thus, I was alone in the main room with the band and their techs. And then I realized that I probably shouldn’t have had that second cup of coffee as I moseyed on up to one of the techs in question.

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?”

He pointed behind him to the short hallway off to the side of the room. I thanked him and made my way down the corridor, and I extended my hand out to the door, which hung slightly ajar. I pushed open the door only to find Eric in there, right before the toilet. I yelped out at the sight of him.

“Oh, shit—” he sputtered, and he leapt back a bit, but enough to show me what he had.

“Oh my god,” I stammered, and I turned away a little bit but I was also captivated by what I was looking at there before me. “I’m really sorry, I thought this was empty.”

I backed away from there and clasped my hands to my head. My face grew warm from the feeling, and my heart sank. I probably should’ve knocked beforehand, but then again, he left the door slightly ajar. I thought for sure there was no one in there.

I bowed away from there before I could hear the toilet flush, and I re-emerged into the backstage area, where Joey was bringing out the coffee and the finger sandwiches for everyone. But I was too embarrassed to even so much as think about eating something. I barely knew Eric and yet I had caught him in the act in the bathroom.

I needed to be alone for a while just to regather myself, even if it meant Joey had to save some things for me after the fact.

“You okay, Portia?” he called after me, but I wasn’t going to answer him, though. No way I could tell him about that.

I bowed around the corner and leaned back against the wall. I closed my eyes, but I kept picturing it over and over again in my mind. Eric there with his pants down and the fact that he was right there with his back to me.

I didn’t want to think about it, and yet I did, anyway.

“Portia?”

I lifted my head for a look up at Eric himself there at the corner: he gazed on at me with a look of concern on his round face.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in there,” I confessed to him, slightly out of breath.

“No, no, it’s my fault,” he assured me, and he moved on closer to me. “That door’s funky so I thought for sure that it was closed.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. His clothes rustled as he sat down next to me.

I had to pick my words with care, and I also worried about the secret leaking out to either Joey or, god forbid Chuck.

“It was a simple mistake,” he assured me, that time in a lower tone of voice. “I wish there was a way to fix this.”

“Tiramisu?” was all I could think of, and that brought a chuckle out of him.

“I don’t really know if Joey has any of that on hand,” he confessed to me, still in a low voice.

“I wish he would, though,” I said. “I would like for you to taste some tiramisu.”

“I’m eager to try it,” he said. “I’m eager to try a bunch of things, actually. In case you couldn’t tell.” He patted his slight little belly, which brought a smile out of me. He inched closer to me so the side of his hip was right up close to my own.

I couldn’t hold it against him, especially when the fault was on neither of us.

“We should taste the feeling of life itself,” he suggested. “Life itself with the kiss of death. Find a way to beckon flavor from the scrolls of the earth, and carry them on our shoulders… like the mighty arms of Atlas.”

“That’s beautiful,” I remarked.

“I pulled that out of my butt,” he quipped with a shrug of his shoulders. “In fact, that’s not the first thing I pulled out of my butt, either.”

I wrinkled my nose at that, but I couldn’t help but giggle as well.

“Have you ever pulled something out of your butt and put it back in?” I asked him, and he gaped at me.

“I didn’t even know something like that was possible,” he confessed with a hearty laugh. “Pull something out and then put it back.”

“Beads?” I asked, and he giggled at that like a schoolgirl.

“Imagine if I had some beads stuffed up my ass,” he laughed, and then he gave his hair another toss with the flick of his head, and then he turned to me with a smirk firmly plastered on his face. I nibbled on my bottom lip, and I did in fact imagine it.

“Beads up your ass and you tug them out for a good time,” I said, and he laughed at that.

“You liked what you saw, didn’t you,” he teased me. “Me standing there with my pants down a little bit and my dick out in the open. I was in a tender spot and that’s why you hung there with your eye on me.”

“I guess I did,” I replied in a small voice and a little shrug of my shoulders.

“You guess?” He was taken aback by that.

“I did,” I assured him with a gentle tap of my fingers on his arm, and he smirked at me. “Although, I didn’t really like… see you, see you. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do. You didn’t see—” He gestured to the crotch of his pants. “—me.”

“I saw a tiny sliver of skin but that was about it, though,” I recalled. “I mean, tiny. Not big enough to make out the shape of anything.”

“Make out…” he repeated in a low snicker. I squinted my eyes at him. Yet another person whom I needed to figure out before Joey had to pick up and leave for Sacramento. I had no idea if I was going to see Eric again as he never gave me anything about himself in the meantime.

He eyed my lips, and I could feel a bit of warmth radiating from within him. I had stimulated him by mere chance, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, either. I figured that I wasn’t going to tell him that I was meeting Chuck for breakfast the next morning, and I knew that if something was going to manifest into something else I wasn’t going to tell him of anything that was going on between us.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Portia…” Eric shifted his weight and glanced off to the side for a brief moment; Joey, his band, and their crew paid. “…you seeing me like that… it kind of made me a little bit warm.”

“Warm, like… water?”

“Warm like… the way you feel if you’ve met a girl and she gives you a rush of blood right to your head.” He ran his thick fingers through his black hair, and it seemed to fall down the side of his head just like streams of water.

“You walked in on me taking a leak and now I can’t stop thinking about it,” he continued. Those thick fingers crawled towards me, right onto my thigh. He never came closer to me, but he did give me the feeling of his fingers, and he did lock eyes with me if but for a moment.

“Eric… Eric, what’re you doing,” I asked him in a low voice, and I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. I had completely forgotten about the fact that I had needed to use the bathroom before, and I hoped that he would understand as well.

He then leaned in closer to me, and his lips hovered closer to mine as if he was about to give me a kiss. Instead, he ran his hand up the top of my thigh towards the waist of my jeans.

For a second, I believed that he was going to unbutton my pants for me, but he instead kept his hand right over my crotch.

“You’re very cute,” I told him in a soft voice, and I ran my fingers through his rich dark hair, to which I nudged a stray lock out from his face and neck. Those big brown eyes swept over me, these tender bits of chocolate that comforted me and yet tempted me.

“Portia?” Joey’s voice floated in from around the corner. “Eric?”

“Damn it,” I muttered, and Eric bowed his head as if he was ashamed.

“Let’s put a pin in that and pick up again at some point later on,” he suggested to me in a low voice.

“Where do you wanna meet?” I asked him.

“The Reno Arch. Next Saturday at six. You and me.” He flashed me a wink.

“Can do,” I assured him, and I reached over to feel his crotch. He gasped from the caress of my fingers, as there was no way I was going to let him off easy. That was no accident, and not when Joey walked in right then.

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feverinfeveroutfic · 26 days ago

Text

Tijuana sunrise | kinktober 2024 | day xi.: “jack of hearts”

pairing: chuck schuldiner x oc + joey belladonna x oc

prompt: crossdressing + sex toys

word count: 4000

song: “girl is a gun” by halsey

“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true." -nathaniel hawthorne, “the scarlet letter”

He was one of those guys who looked as though he could pass off as a woman, and those soft inky black curls cascaded around his shoulders like the waves of water. But at the same time, I couldn’t stop looking at him from clear across the room. He had the look on his face as if he needed to be held, as if he was in need of tender love and power. He sat there on the other side of the room wrapped in a thin black leather jacket and snug black denim jeans, complete with a glass of what looked to be cola in one hand, and his face propped up in the other.

He was also one of those guys whom I had never seen before. Even there in Carson City, he seemed out of place, as if he had just wandered off from the sands of time up by nearby Pyramid Lake.

I had my mitts on Chuck, the chef at the Mongolian restaurant, but this fellow caught my attention, and more so when Elena pointed him out to me on her next visit, too.

The three of us were in our usual spot around that big shiny metal table with Chuck at the helm, and he was more than eager to serve us our usual food. He kept showing me that little dimpled smile on his squarish face complete with a little twinkle in his eye. I was thinking about having another moment with him in the back room of the kitchen again, especially when Elena and Adrianna had their backs turned to us once again. At the same time, I had this impulse to dodge out right in front of their faces, and I had a feeling that Chuck would want that as well. He and I could play our cards right, and we could bow out to have a moment back there.

But I also had my worries with this, however. He could get fired from misusing the back room in question, and I would be engraved with a deep letter on my forehead and my chest: the worst that could happen, besides Chuck losing his job was I would be banned from one of my favorite places to eat with my friends when they came to Carson City to visit me. I would never live it down no matter what happened between me and him. We had to be in private, and we had to do it again when Elena and Adrianna turned away from us for just long enough.

Chuck stirred the noodles for me, to which he picked them up with his tongs and placed them into a clean white china bowl. He followed it up with some fresh meat and veggies for me, as well as a drizzle of soy sauce on top. He served to me with that quaint little dimpled smile, and I didn’t even have to look off to my left to know that Elena and Adrianna were gazing on at him all the while.

I needed to explore. I needed to be alone and away from what I knew to be true.

Chuck served the two of them their bowls of food in a quick flick of the hand, and then he turned back towards me with a thoughtful look on his face.

“I have to stay late tonight and close,” he told me in a hushed voice. “You wanna have some time alone tomorrow?”

“Do you really?” I asked him, taken aback, and he nodded his head, and his curls fluttered about around the sides of his head. I sighed through my nose and I nodded at him. “Okay. I guess.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised me. “I’ll make sure you and I have as much fun as we possibly can together tomorrow night.” He flashed me a wink, followed by that little smile again. I leaned in closer so the two of them or the people coming in behind us wouldn’t have to hear us.

“Could we go up on the roof?” I suggested to him in a small voice.

“Up on the roof, really?” He chuckled at that.

“Yeah. You know. Just so we’re out of the way and away from any prying eyes that might be curious about what we’re doing. I worry about us running into problems.”

“Of course! I’ll clock out before you know it and we can have some fun.” He winked at me again, and then he turned to the next round of people who had come in right then. The three of us were left there on the edge of the table with our dinner, but I looked on at that long-haired boy on the other side of the room and the distant look upon his face. There was just something about him that stood out to me like a sore thumb, something that needed protecting and nourishment, even if I had my hands and my eyes on the chef off to the side of me.

At least go over there and talk to him, welcome him to the area if he was new there.

I finished my food before the two of them did, and I stood to my feet and walked on over to him. I had a feeling that I would have a letter carved on me anyway, especially after Elena and Adrianna’s knowing glances at me back there at the table.

I ran my fingers through my hair, and then I strode on over to him.

I had on a low-cut top lined with white lace and low-hanging jeans, but I wasn’t too fixated on that, however.

He turned his head to me, to which he showed me a little smile and a slight crinkling to the corners of his brown eyes.

“Hi,” I greeted him.

“Hi,” he returned the favor to me, and he gazed up at me with a sweet slightly crooked smile filled with slightly buck teeth. “How’re you doin’?”

“I’m well, thank you. I just came over here to greet you and also check on you, mainly because you’re sitting over here by yourself.”

“I’m just thinking about what I wanna eat,” he explained; he spoke with this odd drawl to his voice, almost a whine, and I could tell right away that he wasn’t from anywhere near Carson City.

“They’ve got so many good things here,” I assured him. “Trust me, I know the struggle.”

“At least I know I’m not alone in it,” he replied with a drumming of his fingers on the table. “I just got here on a whim and I’m wondering where do I go from here.”

“And where are you from?”

“Upstate New York. Syracuse area.”

“Wow!” I gaped at him. “Long way from home.”

“It really is!”

“And how do you like it so far?”

“It’s been interesting,” he replied with a slow nod of his head, and a few stray tendrils of curled hair dangled down over the crest of his shoulder. He showed me his palms and his long spidery fingers. “My hands and lips are bone-dry, and I’m dying of thirst.”

“Welcome to the desert,” I quipped to him with a nod and a pressing of my hands on my hips.

“I think your party’s callin’ you,” he informed me with a gesture to the table behind me, and sure enough, Adrianna was gesturing for me to come on back to them. I waved at her and showed her an unsure little smile, and then I returned to him right as he looked as though he was about to stand to his feet.

“I didn’t get your name, by the way,” he said.

“Portia.”

“Portia. I’m Joey. You wanna go and talk more at some point later on?”

“Yeah, I’d love to. I have to talk my friends to the airport early tomorrow, but I’d like to meet up again. Are you staying at a hotel somewhere or should I come and find you out in the woods?”

He chuckled at that. “I’m actually staying at the hotel just up the street,” he told me, and he stood up next to me. He was barely taller than me, but very wiry and thin. This thin little shadowy guy with long curly black hair down to his waist.

“Oh! My friends are staying there. When I go and take them to the airport, I’ll come back and visit you. What room are you in?”

“Um… Fifteen, I think? It’s upstairs and lookin’ out to the street and the hills, I know that much.”

“I’ll be there, though,” I promised him, and he gently patted me on the shoulder and took a step forward to another one of the long metallic tables about the floor. I returned to my table where Elena and Adrianna had questions for me.

All I could tell them was I had met a new friend and he needed one of his own.

********

“So, what brings you to Carson? You said it was on a whim but you never really elaborated on it, though.”

It was eight-thirty the next morning, about an hour after I had taken Elena back to the airport for the early morning flight out of Reno, and I had swung by the little donut shop on the south end of Reno itself to treat Joey to a little dozen and a warm cup of espresso once I saw him again. He greeted me with an odd smile and little blue and white board shorts like he was about to go swimming in the pool downstairs; there was something going on there with him, and I didn’t know if he was harboring some sort of secret that he didn’t want to share to anyone. As far as I knew, he suffered something awful and ran off as far away from New York as he could possibly go.

But he left the window and the shades open and he made his bed as well. Whatever haunted him must have left him with mixed emotions.

“I was let go from my old band and I’ve just been trying to work out on my own,” he explained as he took his espresso. “I got lucky and managed to cobble together my own gigs, but it’s still a long road to hoe.”

“Wow.” I set the box down on the table next to the television and picked out my cup as well. “You got fired?”

“Totally. And for something I had no control over, either. I was basically pushed away by my old band mates.” He bowed his head a bit and looked down to the floor, and I took my seat on the edge of the bed next to him. The wound was still raw, and I knew that I had some work to do here.

“I had a little drug problem when I first started with them, but then I sobered up right away once their guitarist told me I had to otherwise I was going to be let go.”

“And they still dumped you,” I followed along.

“They still threw me out. Things were getting better for me, too. I had just bought a new apartment and a new car, I had a girlfriend… it all went away once I got that phone call a few months ago.”

“And then you came out here,” I said, completely beside myself at the sound of that, and I took my seat next to him on the foot of the bed.

“With my own band, yeah. I have to do my own thing just to keep my head above water. That was what my parents told me after I sold my place and my car. I took what money I made there and put it to touring.”

“I’ll say this,” I began. “You sound very resourceful.”

“I’m Iroquois, doll. We’re like the Jews: being tough and resilient is in our blood.”

“I like that. I’m Portuguese, so I know dirty laundry when I sense it.”

“Dirty laundry and what ails a person, too!” he declared with a smile. “And you find work where you can get it,” he further explained with a sip of espresso. “I’m a drummer and a singer, so… I have to be my best self out here in the wild.”

He sipped on the espresso again, that time with his eyes closed.

“Thank you for this, by the way,” he told me. “I’ve been wanting coffee since I left Syracuse.”

“Would you like a donut?” I offered him.

“I would love a donut,” he proclaimed. “One of those cream-filled ones, if you got one.”

“I did, yes! A Boston cream one.” I stood up and opened the box for the cream-filled donut with a chocolate glaze on top, to which I picked up a small brown napkin to accompany it.

“I love how you just walked up to me last night,” he remarked as I handed it over to him. “Don’t you know that you’re not supposed to talk to strangers, especially when they have foreign accents?”

“Your accent isn’t that foreign,” I assured him. “Just… foreign to this area. I never meet people from New York, let alone upstate.”

“My old band would tour out here every so often and we would meet all kinds’a people,” he explained. “Never anyone like you, though. Plenty of girls with dyed hair and stuff, but they didn’t give me this feeling that they would be my favorite Martian, though.”

“Favorite Martian?” I grinned at that.

“You pretty much are the more I talk to you and the more I sip on this coffee,” he added; his smile was infectious, and it was bringing out the sense of adventure from me.

“Let’s go up to Washoe Lake,” I suggested. “Get you away from civilization and into a more remote area without hauling our butts all the up to Tahoe.”

“I gotta be down at the old Ormsby House by at least six o’clock,” he pointed out.

“It’s alright, I got a date tonight,” I assured him, and he raised his eyebrows at that.

“You have a date, really?”

“Did I say that out loud?” I quipped right then, and he chuckled at that.

“It’s alright. I still think about my girlfriend every now and again. I think back to the fact that I wanted to propose to her, such that I actually had the whole thing planned out and everything.” I placed the donut next to me on the bed, and I rested a hand on his shoulder.

“We could heal each other,” I suggested. “Go up to the lake and heal with nature. In fact, a part of me wishes that we had more time together, because we could go all the up to Pyramid Lake. Talk about healing, especially if we’re talking about it from a Native American perspective.”

“Maybe another time,” Joey replied with a small but definite smile. “Let me eat the donut and then I’ll change my clothes.”

“Gladly!” We indulged in our donuts together, and then I knew for a fact that he was not going to put down that cup of coffee when he changed out of his board shorts and into slightly baggy jeans. He finally did when he changed shirts into something else from his suitcase: something that looked to be a woman’s blouse made of leopard print.

“I pulled this from my aunt’s closet,” he explained. “I wore this for my audition with my old band, and I completely forgot it was in here until I started unpacking.” He put it on over his head, and then he fixed his hair with one hand, and he reached for his cup of coffee with the other hand. Indeed, I noticed that his pants had the button fly on the right side.

“So, you’re wearing women’s clothing, basically,” I said with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I like to wear anything that looks and feels comfortable, no matter what it looks like or feels like.”

We took our cups of coffee back out to my car, and we drove up the hill on the northern side of town into Washoe Valley. We took the little back road which wound around the perimeter of the lake and a small notch in the trees for some privacy.

We were right near the water’s edge when Joey pointed out the rickety wooden picnic table right under the trees.

I climbed out first and he followed suit. The two of us stood by the water’s edge with our hands in our pockets, and we watched the waves lap against the shore as it gently sloped down into the lake bed.

He glanced about the waters and out to the highway and the faces of the mountains beyond that, and I wished I knew what he was thinking. Silence surrounded us for what felt like an eternity, that is until he spoke again.

“I know you have a date, but I have an idea.”

I turned my attention to him.

“You’re not saying,” I began, and he looked on at me, those big brown eyes as serious as the earth but with a twinkle embedded within. I chuckled at that, and then I realized it was my own fault.

“I am not laying on the ground, though,” I pointed out. “I do have one of those thick, heavy Indian blankets in the backseat, but I am not laying on the ground.”

“Doubt that’ll be much of a problem,” he assured me, and he turned back towards the picnic table. I chuckled at that, but I had a feeling, however. A feeling that this could in fact help the two of us.

We were in nature, after all.

I fetched the blanket in question and spread it over the top of the table. I dropped my pants and climbed upon the blanket: it was a bit awkward given I hung out in the open and I knew that someone from the highway could readily see me, and the breeze lapped at my bare ass and up my coochie, but I lay down on my back for him. Joey stood before my legs once I bent them at the knee, and he eyed me in all my glory.

“Now, tell me,” he began. “Where do I start?”

“Kiss my belly—a line of kisses—and then on the inside of my thighs, and then I want you to finger me.”

He lifted my top and lightly kissed me on my belly, exactly how I wanted it. His lips were tender and soft, and more so on the insides of my thighs.

But then he came to my hood and my lips.

I lifted my head to find him taking something out of his pocket: a small elongated black thing that sparkled in the late morning sun.

“Is that a dildo?” I asked him, and I could feel my heart racing at the sight of it.

“You know it. That is, if you would like to try it.”

“Have at it, big boy—” And I spread my arms across the table top and clutched onto the edges. It was new to me but I was willing, especially when I was new to him on principle. He held onto my ankle with one hand.

The trees rustled in the wind around us. We were away from the road, but there was the possibility that someone from the pavement could see me there atop the picnic table. There was the possibility that Joey could drop the dildo in the dirt below the table: there was a slope there underneath his feet, and thus, I had a thought that it could fall into the dirt and slide down into the waters.

“Okay. Hold still.”

I relaxed every inch of my hips and thighs so he could slip it in. I could barely feel anything inside of my lips, that is until he began to move it around the rim.

“Move it up,” I advised him. “To my hood and my clit. Go slowly in tight circles.”

He moved the tip of the dildo up under my hood. That time, I could feel him. Those long fingers against my hood. He peeled the skin back a bit so he could slip it in all the way.

The feel of the dildo against the head of my clit was sending my hips into a tight bucking. He rested his free hand on my belly to steady me. He kept on touching me with it, in tight circles just like I had said like a good boy.

It felt so wrong but it also felt incredibly right at the same time. I had my legs wide open with a dildo in between them driven in by a guy who was wearing a woman’s shirt and jeans.

He then held the dildo still against my clit, and I lifted my head to see him undoing his fly.

“What’s going on?” I asked him as I drooled a little on myself.

“The zipper’s stuck,” he told me. “I thought of doing a double penetration with both this and myself, but the zipper’s stuck.” In a huff, he picked up the dildo again and brought it up back onto my clit again, and I lay my head back down atop the table with my mouth agape. I could feel my back arching from the feeling again. But that time, he didn’t hold me down with his free hand.

I bucked harder and harder as he drove it in deeper on me, and then he pushed a button.

The tip vibrated, and I was going to come so hard for him.

And then I could feel something warm. Warm and firm.

I lifted my head for a better look down at him.

He was pushing himself in alongside the dildo. He had undone the zipper and did double duties. I clutched at the edges of the picnic table as if I was about to fly right off. I hoped that no one would see us as he gave it to me slow and steady, just how I wanted it, but from two holes instead of one.

My hips bucked hard on the hard picnic table, and I breathed hard. I closed my eyes and let my mouth hang wide open. Not a sound emerged from my mouth, and in fact, a part of me thought that the sound of my own voice floated in on the breeze. I shuddered and shook as I reached the top of my own, and I rolled my head over the table surface to the other side. He kept on going, however: he moved and swayed about, and I wondered when he would reach his apex as I gasped and rose up to it again. Two holes in one, and I had come twice already. He then gasped and softly groaned himself, and I could feel the dildo still vibrating against my clit.

Joey climbed in between my knees and loomed over my face and body: his long curly black hair dangled down over my neck and shoulders, and he pressed his lips onto my own. His skin was soft and tasted of caffeine and the sweet breeze from the shores of Lake Ontario. He locked eyes with me as my chest rose and fell in steady succession.

“That was everything,” I told him in a broken voice. “That was everything I could ever imagine.” I spat out a piece of hair from my mouth, and he brushed it out of the way for me. He showed me a smile and kissed me on the lips again, and he took the dildo out from under my hood. The sun shone down on us, and more so when he lay down next to me upon the Indian blanket.

All I knew was my night with Chuck would be interesting.

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josiebelladonna · 2 months ago

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I pushed open the door only to find Eric in there, right before the toilet. I yelped out at the sight of him.

“Oh, shit—” he sputtered, and he leapt back a bit, but not enough to show me what he had.

“Oh my god,” I stammered, and I turned away a little bit but I was also captivated by what I was looking at there before me. “I’m really sorry, I thought this was empty.”

I needed to be alone for a while just to regather myself, even if it meant Joey had to save some things for me after the fact.

“You okay, Portia?” he called after me, but I wasn’t going to answer him, though. No way I could tell him about that.

I didn’t want to think about it, and yet I did, anyway.

“Portia?”

I lifted my head for a look up at Eric himself there at the corner: he gazed on at me with a look of concern on his round face.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in there,” I confessed to him, slightly out of breath.

“No, no, it’s my fault,” he assured me, and he moved on closer to me. “That door’s funky so I thought for sure that it was closed.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. His clothes rustled as he sat down next to me.

I had to pick my words with care, and I also worried about the secret leaking out to either Joey or, god forbid Chuck.

#BASED ON A TRUE STORY #snippet #snippet saturday #eric peterson #testament #testament band #dragonlord #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompts #kinktober list #kinktober masterlist #smut writing #text #joey belladonna #anthrax #fanfic #promisqueueous

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josiebelladonna · 2 years ago

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1. for reading: i like real fantastical alternate universes, like all your sci-fi, or your fantasies, or even less-than-common aus like royalty or soulmates. probably because i like writing them.

2. no such thing

3. "alternate universe” or “nsfw”

4. i... don’t think i have one?

5. angsty smut mainly because it’s interesting in concept: you’re messing around with someone while they’re upset or down in the dumps, or it’s the other way around

6. one of those things that might seem like it’s easy to do but believe me when i say that it isn’t

7. multi-chapter. i’ve read one shots that were fantastic and neatly encapsulated in their word counts. i’ve also read one shots that were godawful, or they were missing something.

8. if you’re doing multi-chapter, i say 40 - 100k, because that’s like curling up to read a novel. if it’s something complex (like with dead man walking), go bigger and i’ll thank you for it. you better have a damn good reason to go upwards of 300k, though - like i did with fever!

9. oh, yeah. very rarely do i get someone asking me what i’m writing, and when i do, i just tell them that i’m writing a story.

10. absolute mess, because there’s so much i like

For the writers:

11. that are online right now? 124 (125, if you count the one shot i posted last night)

12. now it’s dark, fever in fever out, dead man walking, and painted in a corner. now it’s dark was my pre-pandemic adventure and my first foray into sci-fi (plus joey belladonna himself talked about the accompanying drawings on the jasta show!). fever in, fever out is the longest thing i’ve written and my way of telling alex skolnick i love him. dead man walking is my redemption arc, and it’s also kind of like... one of those stories i’ve always wanted to write. and painted in a corner was another pre-pandemic relic but it was also my most interesting thing because i wrote it in reverse and on my ipad, too.

13. all of them, lol

14. as far as genres go, i’m willing to try out anything (like a part of me wants to write a romance story, mainly because i’ve never really written a romance before and i want to prove myself wrong). as for fandoms, i’m staying away from halestorm.

15. no beta, we die like titans of creation

16. fever, mainly because it’s so long and thus, filled to the brim with imagery. the overreaching dreamy, fairytale vibe throughout adds to it, imo

17. i like writing about dudes who make music, but i’ve also done fic/fanart for f1, figure skating, cartoons, sherlock, dog day afternoon (one of my favorite pacino movies), and i did originals for years before i turned to fanfic

18. 6 (fever, dead man walking, blood & chocolate, love is not enough, xenon dreams, and eerie inhabitants). fever, i think i might finish by the end of summer - will try to anyways, you never know how these things will play out. both it and dead man walking have 60 chapters left, but lately i’ve been volleying their updates. xenon dreams, i might just get the rest of it over the course of a couple of days - i’ve done it a few times before, it’s definitely doable especially given how short the chapters are. and the other three i’m taking my time on.

19. a romance story: my other reason is that i feel like i’m just not cut out to write one.

20. poison plants. explanation: it’s a running theme in fever, started by the fact that joey’s last name is one of the deadliest plants on planet earth right now. sam and louie spark the “poison garden” joke after talking about it on their road trip together, and they find out sometime later there actually is a poison garden in northumberland, england. there are the oleanders that sprouted up in the area where james and lars spread cliff’s ashes, sort of as a play on “where the red fern grows.” it’s also bit of a plot device in dead man walking with the anthurium in krista’s house and alex reading about virginia creeper. i won’t spoil anything but... yeah. shhhh.

Fanfic Ask Game

I’m trying to be as original as possible.

1. What’s your favorite genre to read/write?

2. What’s a guilty pleasure you read/write?

3. What are your most used/most popular additional tags on Ao3? (You can find them under the filters on your works/bookmarks.)

4. What is your comfort trope?

5. Do you prefer reading/writing angsty smut or fluffy smut or just smut?

6. Opinions on the 5 + 1 theme?

7. Do you prefer reading/writing multi-chapter works or one-shots?

8. What is a good word count for a fic in general?

9. Are you comfortable reading/writing fic in public?

10. Do you have carefully curated bookmarks, or are they a mess? (No judgement, I promise.)

For the writers:

11. How many fics have you written?

12. Which fic are you the most proud of and why?

13. Which fic of yours do you think deserves more recognition?

14. What is something that you refuse to write? (No need to elaborate.)

15. Do you go unbeta-ed, or do you have to have someone read over your stuff because you’re too scared to?

16. Is there a fic of yours you would absolutely love to see fanart of?

17. Which fandom(s) do you write for?

18. Be honest. How many WIPs do you have at the moment?

19. What’s something you so desperately want to write, but you haven’t gotten around to it yet?

20. What is something that you know more than you will ever need to because you’ve done copious amounts of research about it for a fic?

#fanfic #text

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