#marie's writing workshop

[nikkeora]

High Enough (Without the Mary Jane)

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. you don't want to be a mary jane anymore.

or, in which you were the mindy s. mcpherson to miles's prowler

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x fem!reader, e-42! Miles Morales x fem!reader (r is referred to with she/her pronouns, no physical description.)

warning(s); fem spanish terms are used ('hermosa' etc.), reader’s hand is smaller than Miles’. author can’t write action sequences for shit.

may be ooc but we haven't seen a whole lot of p!miles yet so there isn’t really much to go off of

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

a/n; according to google the sinister 6 of e42 are doc oc, vulture, electro, rhino, sandman and scorpion, although i've seen some other ppl say that the eastereggs are vulture, rhino, scorpion, sandman, shocker, kraven and electro. i'm going w the google one, maybe kraven and shocker are their own thing. also they're prolly rich aholes since their signs are on buildings n stuff, so that's what i went with.

also reader was sent to earth 42, but like, a few days before 1610 miles arrives, kind of like how gwen was sent to 1610 a week before she found miles

Miles — or, who you assumed was Miles, anyway — took you back to his place, going out of his way to avoid alleys where there weren't many people around and sticking to the bigger streets. You found it kind of weird. Back home, you and Miles used to cut through backstreets and even some sketchy buildings all the time to make it home before curfew.

You felt him steal glances at you the whole walk, and you’d be lying if you didn’t do the same.

This version of him just felt so.. different.

Once the two of you reached your destination, he let you up the stairs first before quietly calling for you to stop once you reached his floor. You hesitated for a moment on the steps. It was a higher level than Miles’s flat back home, and the building had looked a lot different from what you’d seen just half an hour ago, even if it still felt familiar. You’d chalked it up to the multiverse doing multiverse things at first, but he was starting to act a little off.

Having been around your Miles for years, you knew all his tells. You could see how his weight shifted on his feet as he unlocked the door. You could see he was overall standing straighter and more tense. You could see the hesitation before he turned the key.

Miles was lying to you. And he felt guilty.

But what were you going to do?

This universe was new to you. Sure, everything seemed just about the same, but it was all so foreign at the same time. There where skyscrapers you’d never seen before, new graffiti on the streets of the same couple people over and over again - all of whom you were sure you’d seen somewhere before but couldn’t quite grasp where. The sight of buildings blocked by yellow tape and more in the process of repair after seemingly being burned down or blown up were common in this world, like it was an active war zone or something.

You really didn’t have a choice but to follow along.

He opened the door and waved you in, closing the door rather hastily after the both of you.

You took a glance around the room. There were metal bars on the windows, to keep people out or trap them in you couldn't quite figure. There was a DJ setup near them that looked awfully familiar. Hooks hung down from the unfinished ceiling, some holding chains and others oddly shaped items haphazardly wrapped with what looked like brown lunchbag paper. Wires and ventilation just about everywhere, most of the wires leading to either monitors or gadgets you assumed were in the progress of being built. An old, beat up couch and some gym gear by the wall, an open kitchen-slash-workshop area straight ahead.

The only source of light was the neon red from the signs outside the window, and even then the farther bits of the apartment remained a dark purple hue.

Then someone came out of the other room.

“What's this?”

The hell—?

From the shadows, Aaron Davis emerged.

His beard was more grown out then you'd ever seen, and his features looked sharper, almost rougher. His shoulders seemed more broad, though maybe that was the heavy jacket he wore making him look bigger than he actually was.

“¿Tío?”

Miles had taken you around to his uncle's a couple of times, which you now realized was why you recognized this place. Aaron raised an eyebrow at you, surprise flashing across his face before it was quickly wiped out. He looked over you, taling in your appearance.

“Miles.” He asked again.

“I dunno,” the boy replied, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and avoiding his uncle's gaze. “Just found her on the way home.”

“Found her?”

Aaron glanced at you, then back to Miles, then back to you, his eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration. He finally looked back at his nephew, the two of them having a silent conversation you couldn’t read.

“…Fine.” Aaron sighed, turning around—

You felt like you were dying, or being born, or possibly both at the same time. For a split second, you were nothing but particles, your skin and bones and just about everything being ripped apart then sewn back together. Your vision was a mix between TV static and rapid fire neon colors, and it was about the same deal with your hearing (which was concerning, since you couldn't usually hear colors).

Miles had taken a step forward, letting you grab his arms to keep you from falling over as he said something you couldn’t quite hear. Aaron had whipped around so fast you wondered how it didn’t give him whiplash, fists at the ready in case he needed them.

“What was that?” Miles’s voice finally got through to you, the high-pitched screaming in your ears dying down. You blinked at him as your mind went blank.

“I don’t—” You cut yourself off. Wait, was it..? Had you just..?

“Complete cellular decay.” You recalled Miles’s countless retellings of the multiversal mess that had happened just about two years ago. “I’m glitching, aren’t I?”

“Right, and you know this because..?” Aaron asked, his hands now at his sides but not eased yet. He eyed your face as if he was expecting you to grow a third eye or something. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, this might sound crazy,” You started, “but I’m from another dimension.

“We had something like this happen back home a while back — except, y’know, people came into our dimension rather than people from ours going somewhere else.

“The people that came, they were glitching, too. Their atoms were displaced and decaying.”

“So you’re saying,” Miles spoke up, his grip tightening around your forearms just slightly. “If you stay here too long—”

“I’ll die, yeah.” You said, the reality of the situation hitting you like a KTX. “Disintegrate, to be more accurate.”

Silence filled the flat as all three of you processed the information. Miles was frozen, his gaze fixated on the spot where your hands grabbed onto him as if he was scared you’d disappear if he looked away. Aaron crossed his arms, his eyes darting from left to right like he was reading some invisible text.

As for you, you felt unreal. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore, your vision more like looking at the screen of a first-person shooter. Were you going to die here? You didn’t want to die yet. What would your dad think? Would he file a police report? Would Miles’s dad send out a search party to look for you? And Miles—

You hadn’t even said goodbye to him at the party.

You hadn’t said goodbye to anyone.

I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t—

“Hey,” Miles says, his voice softer than earlier, snapping you out of your spiral. His hands slide down your forearms and slip into your own, giving them a firm squeeze. “No vas a morir.”

You’re not gonna die.

“Te llevaré a casa.” The boy said, his deep brown eyes bore into yours, slowly bringing you back from feeling like you’re looking at a video game to feeling more like you’re lucid dreaming. It wasn’t a total fix, but it’s a start. “I’ll get you home, I promise.”

You took a deep breath, trying and failing to ground yourself more.

“What’s five things you hear?” Miles asked gently, tilting his head and leaning ever so slightly closer to you. You just blinked, overwhelmed with everything.

“Mi vida,” he said again. “Five things.”

You paused for a moment.

Sirens outside.

Yelling from the streets.

Chains clinking in the breeze from the open window.

Aaron shuffling around in the other room. When had he left?

The buzzing of the lights overhead.

“Good.” Miles said encouragingly. “Now, four things you see.”

Miles.

A pan on the kitchen stove.

The DJ table by the windows.

Tio Aaron pulling out the couch to make a sofa bed.

“Three things you can touch here.”

Miles.

The ground if you bent down, you guessed.

Some trinkets on the table just over there, but you’re not gonna touch that.

“Two you can smell?”

Rusted metal. There’s tons of it around; on the walls, the ceiling, tables, even on the shelves. What was that chest plate doing back there, anyway?

That pool smell, which is kinda gross since it came from the chlorine in pool water mixed with all the gross stuff that came from human bodies.

Miles smiled as you said that. “Vuelves a mí, mi sol.” He squeezed your hands again. “One thing you can taste.”

“I dunno, soda? We had a ton of it at the party.” You wiggled your fingers. It was like you were stepping into your body for the first time — nothing was a perfect fit just yet, like a pair of knitted gloves with too much room at the ends of the fingers. You’d have to get used to it again.

It’s then that Aaron called Miles over, the boy reluctantly leaving your side and following his uncle to the other room. He told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch before he went, though, so that’s exactly what you did. The spring cushions feel oddly comforting under you, the familiarity of home twisted just slightly out of proportion.

There’s really nothing to do alone here. You tapped your fingers on your leg. Thankfully, Miles and Aaron came back after just a few minutes.

The first thing the boy said to you, “I’m gonna get you home.” A firmer, more certain repetition of his promise from a minute ago, albeit there’s a bit of a strain in his voice as if it physically hurt him to say it. In a clumsy yet swift motion, he quickly leaned down and kissed your cheek before making his exit rather hurriedly.

You felt the heat rush to your face, your hand coming up almost immediately to touch the spot.

Aaron chuckled and shook his head.

“So,” he said. “You as smart as she was, too?”

-

You tinkered with the gauntlet of a prototype suit that Aaron had dug out of storage somewhere, the man himself working on the main body. The helmet — or was it more of a mask? It was a bit bulkier than Miles's Spider-Man mask, a bit more tech-y. Probably more similar to an Iron Man helmet, now that you think about it, albeit lower in its level of advancement — was plugged into one of the many monitors strewn about the flat.

You'd managed to pry a couple bits of information out of him for the past few hours (during which you hadn't glitched again, thankfully) in exchange for some of your own. So far you knew that this universe’s Jefferson Morales had passed away a few years ago, prompting Miles to take on the mantle of the Prowler to avenge his father’s death — the details of which he stayed frustratingly vague on — and, later on, to keep the city as safe as he could.

“Wait, wait, who’s your Spider-Man, then?”

“Who’s Spider-Man?”

You blinked in confusion. “What? You don’t have a Spider-Person?”

“What, like, a part-spider guy? Nah. Scorpion’s mostly bug though, that count?”

This dimension didn’t have a Spider-Man. That was why the city was so overrun with bad guys.

You gave him a general rundown of the whole ‘radioactive spider’ thing and moved on.

Your own variant, who was Miles’s best friend and had helped make a lot of his gear, had disappeared a while after the Prowler started taking out some bad guys that were a step above villain-of-the-week, the ones who had all sorts of shady connections. Hearing about your presumed death was a strange experience.

“We know they took her,” The older man had said, jamming his screwdriver into a faulty part of the suit. “But the cops are all in on it ever since the Cartel bought ‘em out. Declared her dead after less than 24 hours.”

Oh, speaking of, apparently there was a team of villains bringing Gotham to life in New York, Brooklyn being the heart of it all. How fun.

The Sinister Six Cartel, as the Bugel had dubbed them, was the one Aaron and Miles believed to be behind your variant’s disappearance. The two were certain that the Cartel had worked out a connection between you and the Prowler. The nail on the coffin was when they sent a body double of you in the Prowler’s direction to mess with his head just a couple months ago, complete with some sort of Face Off style mask that made it possible for the fake to look exactly like you. It was only a day or two before Miles figured out it was a setup, but it had shaken him up pretty bad.

“I thought you were another one.” He’d admitted. “But then you did the whole glitchy thing. Looked horrible, by the way, real nasty. It hurt much?”

“You have no idea.”

In return, you told him about home. You told him how Miles’s dad was up for a promotion, practically Captain already. You told him about your Miles’s art and how he made a mural of him after his death. You didn’t go into too much detail about the ‘death’ part, focusing more on the peaceful aspects since it was so clearly missing from his every day life. You couldn’t really read this Aaron Davis that well since he was more guarded than he had been back home, but you could tell he appreciated it; especially the parts about his brother.

You also told him how Miles and the other Spider-People who were sent to your dimension had worked out a solution to fix their situation, and gave him a brief summary of the whole ordeal, the details of which he texted Miles since he hadn’t given you a chance to tell him about it when he left so hastily. He said something you couldn’t quite make out as he did — you caught the words ‘lab’ and ‘property’, but that was pretty much it. He only waved it off as nothing when you asked him about it.

“How’s my dad?” You asked, pushing your hand into the gauntlet to test if it worked right. It was a near perfect fit, which made you wonder who exactly it was for, since Miles’s hand was bigger than yours. “Is he doing okay? After the whole ‘declared dead’ thing?”

“He’s holding up, just like the rest of us,” Aaron replied, checking on the monitor. “Your mom — her mom’s been sticking around. Grief brings people together and all that. They’re trying therapy.”

A weird feeling bubbled up inside. While it was good to know at least one version of your parents were trying to reconcile, it bothered you that your absence had prompted it. Was that what was happening right now back home? Had your disappearance magically brought your parents back together? Had it even been long enough for that to happen, or did time flow equally throughout the multiverse?

…

Would it be better for them if you just didn’t go back at all?

“Oh.” You said, nodding slightly as you flexed and wiggled your fingers in the gauntlet, watching the way it moved. It was a lot thinner than the claws that adorned the Prowler’s hands from what you’d spotted here and there in the flat, built to be stealthier in the way it functioned. There were no clunks or clinks, just soft whirring noises that sounded almost like a cat’s purr. “That’s good, I guess.”

It was worse this time around, which you didn’t even know was possible. You felt yourself being split in a billion different directions, parts of you re-atomizing not quite in the right places. You’d never known the feeling of having space between where all your joints were supposed to connect, but now you did, and it honestly made you want to die. Not really. Well…

-

Miles came back sometime before dawn. You heard the door opening slowly, almost like he was trying not to wake his parents up as he was sneaking in past curfew. Not that he used the door ever since he could climb walls, but still.

He crept into his uncle’s flat, even leaving his shoes at the door so he wouldn’t make too much noise. He was making his way to the other room when he looked at you on the couch, only to flinch in surprise when he saw your eyes were open.

“¿Qué haces despierto?” He whispered, his shoulders tenser than earlier from the split second of adrenaline. “It’s late.”

“What are you doing that you have to sneak in?” You whispered back. The boy just shrugged.

“Oh, you know…” He trailed off, looking around to avoid your questioning gaze. “…Stuff.”

You rolled your eyes. “That has gotta be the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Miles huffed, shuffling over to you and sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, facing you. “Yeah, well, I asked you first. Why’re you up, hermosa?”

You sighed. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the thought of my impending doom, maybe.”

A couple beats passed by without a word from either of you, a bit of awkwardness hanging in the air, though it was accompanied by a familiar sense of comfort.

“Do you trust me?” Miles asked, his hand reaching out to gently grab a corner of the blanket draped over you.

“Probably.” You replied. You hadn’t known him long enough to trust him just yet, as much as you wanted to. The corners of his lips tilted up just a bit in an almost smile.

“Then trust that I’ll do whatever it takes to get you home.” He said. “I already lost you once, I’m not letting that happen again.”

-

The next day was pretty uneventful. For the most part, anyway, if you don’t count the random glitching throughout. You were advised heavily against going outside since the Cartel had eyes everywhere, so your area of activity was limited to the flat. Miles had evidently snuck back out after your little talk the night before, which made you feel a tinge disappointed since you wanted to get to know him better. Fortunately, Aaron said you could help with the suit again.

The TV played in the background as you tapped on the keyboard, giving the helmet a few final touch-ups as the sun set outside the window. J. Jonah Jameson jabbered on about this week’s biggest disasters and lamented about how ‘if only there was a hero to save this city’, which made you snort.

“He’s gonna switch up real quick if a hero does show up,” You remarked to Aaron, who looked at you questioningly. “The guy hates Spider-Man back home.”

“What, Jameson?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, he’s the biggest Captain America fanboy out there. Loves heroes an’ all that.”

He thought for a moment. “Pretty sure Miles saw him at Comicon that one time too.”

“What’s a Comicon?”

Unfortunately, you never got the answer as you heard the lock on the door slide open. You spun around in your chair to greet Miles as you knew he was supposed to be coming by sometime in the evening, but your friendly smile quickly faded as his expression turned to one of shock, catching a glimpse of what the two of you were working on.

The boy froze as he stared, wide-eyed, at the suit. “Tio,” He said, looking at Aaron as he clenched his jaw. “What’s that doing out?”

“She needs a suit.” The older man answered simply.

“What?” Both you and Miles asked, though you could tell it was for vastly different reasons.

“We need to get into Alchemax to get her home, and we can’t do that unless she has protection.”

“Which is why I came here to make a plan!” Miles shouted, his hands moving animatedly, the way your Miles's always did when he got upset. “Eso, eso no le pertenece. ¡No es para ella!”

They had a back and forth as the pieces came together as to why Miles was so upset.

The suit was supposed to be for you.

His you.

You were, essentially, fixing up a dead girl's clothes to wear.

“The Cartel isn't stupid, Miles,” Aaron tried to make the boy see his point. “Even if we somehow made a distraction big enough for the big ones to leave base, there's still gonna be someone left to guard it. Would you be able to live with yourself if she got hurt? Or worse—”

“Don't.” Miles's nails dug into his palms, leaving dark cresent moons in their wake. Aaron sighed.

“If she got hurt, you'd feel like that's on you. If you got hurt protecting her 'cause she doesn't have anything to protect herelf with, then I'd feel like that's on me.” He said, his features softening as he reasoned with his nephew. “This is the best bet.”

“We could build her a new suit—”

“And take what? Couple days? A week? Two weeks?”

He glanced at you, Miles following his gaze towards you as well. You knew what was implied. The only people you knew this happened to had gone maybe over a week before the glitching became a real problem, and they were superhuman. Who knew how long you had?

“She can wear mine. We have a ton of old ones, I'll just take one of those—”

“I'm not gonna let you get hurt for her, kid.”

“Don't call me that.”

They went back and forth for a while, and eventually Miles went to the other room to cool off and think things through. Aaron sighed, wiping a hand across his face.

“No offense.” He said to you.

“None taken.” You replied, not really knowing what to do. It felt wrong for you to be tinkering with something that was so clearly not meant for you, even if it was for a variant of yourself.

You could hear Miles pacing the other room, muttering to himself.

“Maybe I could...” You trailed off.

“You could try talking him into it,” He suggested. “He'll listen to you more than me right now.”

“...Should I, though?” You couldn't even begin to imagine what Miles was feeling. All this multiverse shit was too damn complicated.

“Look, kid, I know it's weird.” Aaron said, shoulders sagging just a bit. “But this—” he pointed to the suit— “is the best way to make sure no one gets hurt. Trust me.”

There was something he wasn't telling you, but he didn't have to for you to know what it was. Miles thought you were alive, somewhere out there. You knew it was entirely possible that he blamed himself for your disappearance, as it was your own version of him's go-to for anything and everything that went wrong. The shadows under his eyes, that look whenever he saw you... you wondered how many nights he'd spent outside, looking for some trace of you, a new lead to follow. Especially since your arrival.

Aaron thought this was the best chance Miles would ever get to let go of you. To get some sort of closure by sending you home.

“…I'll try.” You finally agreed, getting up from your seat and shuffling to the other room. You hesitated before going in, but the lack of a door made it awkward to linger, so you just bit the bullet and walked inside.

The room in question was more of a faux-veranda (which explained the no-door thing); a long, narrow space separated from the main living area by a sheet of drywall, with one of the wider walls filled with shelves of CDs and albums and the other decorated sparingly with old band and movie posters along with Miles-brand stickers.

“So...” You said, fiddling with your hands as you took a look around the area. You gestured at one of the stickers on the wall. “Did you make that?”

Slowing to a stop to face you, Miles nodded, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Cool.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, you working out what to say and Miles trying to come up with some other solution to the problem. The boy had an unhealthy obsession, that much he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to let go of it. Not when you could be out there, just waiting for him to find you.

“I don't want to push you,” You started hesitantly. “But.. I think your tìo may be right.”

“I know that.” He looked at his feet as if the dirt on his shoes was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, the sight of him reminisent of a little kid getting scolded by his mother. “I know that.”

“I can't say I understand.. whatever's going through your head right now,” You said, taking a step towards him. “But he just wants what's best for you.”

“What's best for me is finding—” He cut himself off when his eyes met yours, frustration and confusion and stubbornness and sadness and who knows what else all mixing into a big mish-mash of conflicting thoughts inside of him. He clenched his fists, tilting his head up as he tried to think clearly. To his dismay, his throat closed up, the familiar sting of tears pricking at his eyes.

“I need to find her.” He muttered, putting a hand over his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears from falling. It didn't work. “I need to find you.”

“And you will.” You were sure of it. Aaron and Miles were both so sure that their you was alive... she had to be. “But right now? Right now, I need you to help me out.”

He looked at you, his gaze almost spaced out for a moment. You wondered if he saw her in you — if she had the same haircut, the same eyes, the same accent...

You could tell he was frustrated by the way that the scrunch above his nose wouldn’t go away. Hesitantly, you reached out, wiping away the tracks stray tears had left on his cheeks. He stiffened for a moment.

“...Fine.” He finally muttered, a hand coming up to grab your arm, though he seemed unsure if he wanted to push it away or pull it closer. So he just held it in place, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist, the edge of your palm. His posture relaxed, just a bit. “Okay.”

-

Two days later, it wasn't too dark when the plan set into action.

Security at Alchemax — once belonging to Kingpin, now in posession of the Sinister Six Cartel — was thinnest sometime around six to seven pm, when dinner breaks, shift changes and the checkout of regular scientists were prominent.

Miles and Aaron had each set up time bombs at multiple smaller warehouses the Cartel used for storage, each coordinated to go off within minutes of each other. With little to no heroes or police in the way, the Cartel had no reason to keep their lesser important stocks well-guarded, which made it easy to sneak explosives into some of the shipments, support beams and pipes.

Once the explosions were set off, Aaron would use some rip-off Mysterio tech to make projections of some new vigilante gang, with each fake member leading the forces of the Cartel away from Alchemax. During this went on, Miles would sneak you in and to the Super Collider (which, surprisingly, had not been scrapped since its change of ownership) through the vents—

“Wait, wait, isn’t there like, a tunnel that can get us directly to the Collider?” You’d asked, remembering what Miles had told you when he first told you how he became Spider-Man.

“It got sealed off.” Aaron had said. “Some sort of supercharged electromagnetic thing. They did that with all the major underground entry points. Can’t shut it off without blacking out half of Brooklyn.”

“Or getting fried.” Miles had said. “The generators powering each point are all hooked up together a single system, como una mente colmena. You attack one of ‘em directly, all the others shoot a billion bolts of energy into you. And we don’t have time to hack into and get past the firewall to shut the thing down.”

—which you would navigate by memorizing a blueprint of Alchemax that had been conveniently leaked in a mass Cartel server leak a couple months ago. Miles would then plug in the goober he, Aaron and you had made using information gathered via Aaron's 'friends', and send you home.

It was a simple mission. Maybe a bit too simple, but you didn't really have much a choice when you were on a time crunch with limited information. Besides, Occam's razor.

“Copy?” Aaron's voice asked from your earpiece.

“Copy.” You answered, followed by Miles from his own communicator.

“A-6 is a go in 3.. 2...”

Boom.

A couple blocks away, a cloud of dust shot into the air. The building you and Miles were on the roof of shivered slightly as storage unit A-6 blew up.

“A-27.”

Boom.

“C-15.”

Boom.

From your vantage point, you had a clear view of what was going on at Alchemax without the risk of anyone down there catching a glimpse of you. You could see the non-combat scientists scrambling to get to their cars and the armed guards being led by weirdly dressed villains in the direction of the explosions. Although you supposed you weren't quite qualified to comment on the 'weirdly dressed' part at the moment, since you and Miles weren't much better in your respective suits.

Speaking of, Miles hadn't talked much ever since he first saw you wearing the suit. His responses were short if he even gave one, although you could feel him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Miles fixed the gauntlet on his hand one last time before shuffling closer to you. “Ready?”

His voice sounded strange to you, his actual voice coming through your earpiece overlapping with the voice coming through his modulator.

“Mhm.”

“Going in.”

You hooked your arms around his shoulders and his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as a grapple shot out of his gauntlet. He used it almost exactly like how Miles used his webshooters, although his actions were a bit more... forceful? Rougher around the edges, if that made sense.

As your feet left solid concrete, the city sped by underneath the both of you, a pretty blend of neon and gray. Your suit prevented you from actually feeling the air whipping by, but a fraction of the wind managed to seep through the cracks, sending a chill down your spine as your stomach dropped at the sudden decline.

For a moment, gravity seemed to disappear. The laws of physics no longer felt like they effected you in any meaningful way. Anything and everything that had been weighing down on you — this whole situation, Miles, demanding schoolwork at Visions, your parents and their myriad of problems — no longer held you down.

It was exhilarating.

Your 'flight', so to speak, was over almost as soon as it started. You tucked your legs as you reached the roof of the Alchemax building, separating from Miles and rolling to lessen the impact. Surprisingly, the move came quite naturally to you, even without practice. You chalked it off as something you'd learned when you were a toddler, when your mom used to sign you up for all sorts of extracurriculars. You were pretty sure martial arts or something had been one of them; maybe you'd learned it there.

Your heart pounded as the sudden rush of adrenaline faded away, and you found yourself wishing it didn't. The thrill was addicting, as was the freedom that came with it. It was like a rollercoaster, or watching How to Train Your Dragon in 4D for the first time, only a hundred times better.

Miles had never taken you swinging. He'd never exactly told you why, always brushing off your request with something like a 'maybe later' or 'I can't right now', but you knew why.

Swinging together was a him and Gwen thing.

And you were fine with that.

What, like you were gonna be jealous about something as small as that? Pfft. No way. Nope. Nada.

“¿Estás bien?” Miles asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded in confirmation.

The two of you pried open a vent using the gloves of your suit, which was easier than you’d expected it to be. To your surprise, the claws that extended from them were very useful.

“We’re in.” You muttered as you crawled into the duct, hoping Aaron wasn’t having any trouble on his end. He’d been awful quiet… Then again, no news is good news on a mission, right?

Miles crawled in after you. “You remember the way?”

“Yeah.”

Together you made your way to the underground levels of the building, miraculously avoiding any possible dead ends or mouse traps. That musty smell of mold and concrete reached your senses as you reached the deeper parts.

There weren’t many people at the Super Collider, thanks to the diversion and timing. Miles gestured for you to stay put as he swiftly dropped out of the vents, knocking out the few guards there one by one with relative ease. It was strange seeing him fight; so similar to yet completely different from him. You were doing as told and observing from the vents until you saw one of the last three people — a scientist, by the looks of it — sneaking up on Miles from behind while he was preoccupied with the two other guards.

You quickly dropped down from your spot, landing behind the guard and catching him by surprise as he whirled around with his weird-techy-science gun. Dropping to the ground, you swept your leg under his, toppling him over and knocking the weapon out of his hands. You were about to knock him out when—

“Peter Parker?”

Are you kidding me?

You were certain it was him. This Peter was scrawnier, his hair more sandy blond than Peter Parker’s back home (before he passed, anyway), and he wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that perched awkwardly on his slightly crooked nose. But the ID that read ‘Peter Parker’ in big bold letters around his neck was a pretty solid indicator.

“…Yes?” He almost squeaked out.

Meanwhile, Miles had dealt with the two guards, stepping over them to get to the console. “Sácalo y entra ahí.” He called, fumbling a little as he tried to figure out which buttons to push to fire up the Collider.

“We have a bit of a situation..” You said, pulling Peter up by his arm and dragging him to the console as well.

You gave him a hushed explanation of your unwillingness to hurt the guy, and how you believed he was genuinely a good person. After all, this universe was almost the same as yours, right? Peter Parker couldn’t be that different here…

“And besides, he probably knows how to work this thing. It’d be helpful.”

Miles sighed. “…Fine, I won’t knock him out,” He agreed. Turning to Peter, he asked, “How do you start the Collider?”

Peter gulped, everything in his body language screaming ‘I want to run away’. “You- you need codes,” He stammered out. “Approval codes, from—”

“Don’t care.” Miles cut him off, giving him a brief glance at the goober. “Just start it. ¿Lo pilla?”

Peter nodded hastily and got to work, pressing buttons and switching levers as you made your way down to the Super Collider. There was a catwalk that ran from one side of the machine to the other, connecting the two mechanisms. If you got to the middle of it, you could jump off and into the portal once the Collider was at full output. Sure enough, its huge metal plates clinked and clattered as they slowly sprung to life.

This was it. You were finally going home.

Just then, you heard a thunk along with some choice words in Spanish, and looked over to the source to see Peter out cold on the ground.

“He got to the panic button!” Miles said, scowling to himself as he plugged in the goober, praying that this plan would work out in the next minute or so. Bubble-like particles appeared at the two points of the machine that faced each other, the noise it emitted now making it so that you could only properly make out what Miles was saying through your earpiece.

The Collider whirred and sputtered as the bubbles grew bigger and brighter, eventually bursting into two beams of light that met each other in the middle, creating one big sphere with a bunch of little bubbles going in and out of it and surrounding it. The sphere grew larger and larger until it collapsed in on itself, sprouting thin, curvy lines.

The thing grew bigger and bigger until it was about the size of a person, you could feel it starting to pull you in. You just had to wait for Miles’s go ahead—

Ow.

What the hell?

You were suddenly sprawled on the ground, something having tackled you at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. That something — or rather, someone — skid to a halt just a few feet away from you, dragging a hand across the tiled floor and leaving… scratch marks?

Scrambling to your feet, you crouched in a defensive stance as you looked over the newcomer.

There wasn’t a single inch of skin showing, their suit covering the whole of their person. The suit in question was mostly white, with some gray sprinkled in here and there. It reminded you of Eve from Wall-E or a Stormtrooper, maybe a mix of both. Strangely enough, the mask was just a blank slate; a sleek, white panel with no features or details, kind of like one of those LED face masks.

Overall it was kind of… boring? It didn’t inspire fear nor did it seem very imposing or something of the sort, which you’d think would be a priority for a villain organization. If anything it was bland, the only thing that stood out from the suit being its hands which donned gauntlets that looked similar to yours, but slimmer and more polished, more accurately described as gloves rather than gauntlets. They had claws just like yours, albeit they looked sharper, a bit more gnarled.

“Miles?” You called, your heartbeat quickening. “What’s going on?”

You heard a grunt from his end. You didn’t look to see what was happening, not daring to take your eyes off of your attacker, but you guessed that backup from Peter’s panic signal had arrived.

“What’s going on?” Aaron echoed, his voice slightly fuzzy. Before you could answer, your attacker lunged. You managed to doge a full on body slam, but they grabbed your arm instead, using it to flip you over their body and knocking the wind out of you.

You writhed as you hit the ground, managing to rip your arm out of their grasp and landing a kick on their ankle, causing them to stumble. You took the opportunity to get up and put some distance between the two of you, though you didn’t get far before the lunatic started chasing you. They jumped at you again but you turned around at the last second, and as you were pushed back with their claws digging into your shoulders you kicked both of your legs out into their stomach just as your back hit the ground, sending them straight over your head.

“Tìo, get your nephew, now!” You shouted, rolling away just in time to avoid a punch that landed on the floor where your head had been just a second ago. “It all went to shit, get him out!”

The pull from the Collider was getting stronger, tiny scraps like bolts and papers flying through the air and towards the beam of light. You raced back to the catwalk but were once again stopped by the 29th century Stormtrooper. You yelped as you felt something grab the back of your neck, sharp claws piercing through your suit and digging into your skin as your head was thrown harshly against a metal beam.

And just like that, you were on the ground. Again. What was this, like, the third time? Fourth? Great. Just fantastic.

I’m not even supposed to be here, you thought, grabbing at your opponent’s wrists as their hands wrapped around your neck, slowly choking you. They were stronger than you were, faster, clearly more skilled. What were you thinking? You’re not a fighter — you couldn’t beat them, not like this.

Why was the universe so intent on making you miserable? You were just trying to get home, maybe not die. Not dying would be nice. But no. You couldn’t have nice things, could you? Not your own life, not Miles, your own damn parents were happier in a reality where you weren’t in the picture—

A sudden surge of anger made you lash out. The universe could go fuck itself. You weren’t dying like this. Not when your ticket home was right in front of you.

Your gauntlet caught your attacker’s mask, knocking it off.

You knew that face.

It was the same face that looked back at you every time you looked at a mirror.

Well, not exactly, you supposed. There was a certain roughness in her features, the same as how Miles looked different from Miles. But you’d know those eyes anywhere. But they were… what’s the word, fuzzy? Unfocused? It was like her body was on autopilot while her brain was off in Hawaii or something.

The thing you did next could’ve won you the prize for ‘smartest dumb decision of the year’.

In all your oxygen-deprivated brilliance, you retracted your mask.

It might shake her, was your reasoning. It would confuse anyone to see a doppelgänger in a fight.

Or, you know, it could go totally wrong and she could punch your face in. But you were already getting choked, so, what was there to lose?

And it worked.

Her eyes shifted back into focus as her grip slackened, and you quickly shoved her — or is it you? yourself? — off, gasping for air. You could vaguely make out the outline of a giant scorpion-guy going one-on-one with Miles, who seemed to be holding out pretty well. He was favoring his left hand though, when usually he used his right.

“I— wha—? Where—” You heard from your left. Your alternate universe counterpart looked around the lab, her eyes wide and movements jerky like a wild animal on drugs.

You were about to say something when a loud buzzing came through your comm, which had evidently been damaged in the whole head-beam connection thing. Miles’s voice came through in broken pieces.

“Col— get..t— ov-rload—”

The Collider. The goober could only force an incomplete system to run for so long. Your time was up.

Wonderful.

A flash of blinding light came from the machine as it malfunctioned. The goober could only make an incomplete system work for so long. You were just able to get your helmet back on before everyone in the vicinity was pushed back in an explosion. Was that Aaron—?

After your temporary blindness wore off, you made out the aftermath, a high-pitched ringing in your ear as you dazedly looked around. The glass that separated the control area from the Collider had been shattered, the Scorpion twitching as he tried to get to his feet — did he have feet? Now’s really not the time — There was no sign of Miles or Aaron anywhere, which was either very good or very bad. You decided to believe it was the former for your own sake. A short distance away from you was another you, that one unconscious but still breathing, from the looks of it.

Grabbing your variant, you ripped open a vent on the wall before the Scorpion could take notice of either of you, shoving her in before following suit and placing the vent cover back on. You had to get out of here. Fast.

[beanghostprincess]

Silly vampire buggy being so very normal about it while the rest are absolutely FERAL is so funny.

Buggy, before Roger passed, still on the Oro: hmm, I'm kinda thirsty-

Shanks, ripping his already open shirt further off: Oh Dear, Oh My Look At ALL THIS So Very BITEABLE SKIN, Sure Hope There's No VAMPIRES Thirsting Near Me, Wink Wink!!!!

Buggy: I bet Gabban still has some juice boxes. I hope he has that guava one. I'll be right back!

Shanks, half naked and drooping: 🥺😟😥😫

<><><><><><><><><>

Mihawk: I read this interesting novel yesterday which gave me much to ponder.

Buggy: oh? Awesome! Which was it?

Mihawk, side-eying Buggy pointedly: it was a supernatural romance between a human and vampire. It was rather explicit and had many scenes which piqued my interest.

Buggy, absolutely Not Getting It: oh man. I usually hate those. It's a toss up between bad writing or the vampire is always a top. Like? Give me gay bottom vampires too, we deserve to be recognized!! Oh, Hawky, can you hand me my sunscreen?

Mihawk: ........... here.

Buggy: thanks, love!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Crocodile: hey you drink blood.

Buggy, sipping A+ out of a care bear cup: yeah?

Croc: does it work on Logia users? Or would your fangs need Haki to pierce us?

Buggy: hm. Good question? I dunno, actually!

Crocodile: seems this could be a learning experience. Would be a shame to not experiment. I know how much you like your science.

Buggy: I do like science. Yeah. Yeah. You're right! I SHOULD experiment on that!!

Croc, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging down his cravat: uh huh, well, I suppose we ought to get to it- where are you going

Buggy: to my workshop! Science waits for no man!!! Nor clown, in my case. Man clown? Vampire? Who knows. Wait. Am I a man...? Hm, what is the gender today... wait, have I eaten at all? I don't remember. Anyway, I need to grab my suit, I'm low on sunscreen again. Oh, remind me to add that to the next shipment request. Oh, I should also grab a bloody mary!! That sounds great! Okay. Bye bye!!

Croc, halfway undressed, watching Buggy run outside, start swearing bc he didn't pull up his hood and is cursing the light, before tripping flat onto his face: ............. shit.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy rarely pushes the limits of his abilities BECAUSE of the vampirism. If he uses his DF more than usual, it makes him hungrier. And once he hits a certain point, he begins to lose his already loosey-goosey sense of humanity. It scares him to be so cold and uninterested, especially since he always feels things turned up to eleven. When his hits that point, EVERYTHING turns off. At best, he'll be mildly annoyed, angry, amused - but it's like being in a glass bowl, watching things happen from the outside. It terrifies him.

His partners...? Well. It does things to them too, but terror isn't exactly the dominating feeling... 👀

((Also, the romanticism of blood. Of life energy. Of an exchange of that out of love. Of giving parts of yourself to sustain and satiate another. Carrying pieces of someone else in your body to propagate your own life. Of giving and taking consensually the liquid which carries your time. The inherent provocative nature of taking someone else's essence into yourself with full permission and full understanding because they receive so much from you in turn that it is simple, easy, logical to consent to this.))

Vampires 🥰

THE FIRST ONE IS SO REAL EFJKBWEJKBWJEKBF Shanks does that constantly he's DYING for Buggy to bite him and the clown won't even notice he's trying so much. It's ridiculous. Shanks and his failguy moment simping for a vampire that doesn't want his blood.

Mihawk and Crocodile trying to flirt and failing miserably because Buggy is always oblivious to what they do is amazing and no matter the AU it's always like this. I adore. They just want their vampire boyfriend to bite them :(( Failguys.

The last thing you said is so real. Vampires can be something so romantic and I think usually books/TV shows/Media in general don't focus on the important stuff. I want to see teen!Shuggy with Buggy and Shanks traveling together right after the crew disbands (before Roger's death) and Buggy not having access to other types of blood. So Shanks offers him his blood and they have like-- This moment of realization of how intimate it is. And Buggy will forever remember what it felt like to feel Shanks' embrace while sucking his blood without any complaints. And!! Both Mihawk and Crocodile wanting to do the same but it's definitely just for the horny, they don't expect it to be so passionate and intimate, and romantic.

Also, I agree with Buggy, the vampire should be the bottom. Really necessary for this situation.

[blackdollette]

I know you’re not really writing for Rory characters right now but if I could request a Clyde smut where he says “swallow, swallow” with the pill, but instead.. it’s his girlfriend or OOO maybe someone who buys stuff off him like weed, and she’s giving him head as payment but she’s got a textural problem so like, weird textures are icky, and he holds his hand over her mouth and says swallow? That may be weird, I dunno— if it is I’m so sorry 😭😭

anon you don't understand how much i've been thinking abt this ever since you sent this. i just 😩

"hand at the back of my neck." | clyde

national anthem. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999@livingdead-materialgirl @romanroyapoligist@auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @vanlisbon @lankysimp @livingdead-reilly@imoonkiss @lankysimp@nom-nommmm1@xxbl00d-cl0txx@k1ll3rh0rr0r@wildathevrt@mommymilkers0526@greenxgloss

⊹₊⋆ pairing: dealer!clyde x female!reader

⊹₊⋆ word count: 1.4k

⊹₊⋆ contents: drugs, blowjob, cum-eating, slight aftercare, fluffy if you squint

when it came to describing you, impulsive only covered the tip of the iceburg. the lines defining the story between you and clyde had gone blurry over the years but as far as you knew, he was basically the best thing that had ever happened to you. 

and both of you were fully aware of that.

your faintly shivering fist sheepishly knocked that familiar pattern on the door of his apartment room. the hallway outside of his room always smelled faintly of green and stale fast food. before you could bring your hand back to your side, the doorknob turned allowing the stained wooden door to creak open, bringing his warm, sleepy eyes and that smile into view.

“well, if it isn’t my favourite customer…” clyde flipped his hair out of his face, allowing his gaze to run up and down you shamelessly. “...you look good. as usual.”

he was shirtless, only clad in a pair of gray sweatpants that rode dangerously low on his hips. all need for formality had vanished the day you had experienced your first high right there in his “workshop”.

you smiled shyly, already feeling slightly light on your feet as the psychedelic aromas from inside wafted toward you. “hi clyde. sorry for showing up unannounced…” 

considering how quickly he opened the door and the lack of that lust-filled flush that covered his cheeks whenever he was getting some action, you could safely conclude that he was alone at the moment. but you felt the need to ask anyway.

“is now a good time? i can come back later if you’re busy…”

he let out a little breathless laugh, shaking his head and dislodging a few locks from behind his ear. “there’s no better time than now. c’mon in. i just got some new stuff shipped in that you’ll love.”

he snaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his cozy apartment room and shutting the door behind you.

“you got your mind on anything specific today?” he asked as he ushered you to his overstuffed couch. you sat down, scanning the various piles of boxes with long medical names and numbers on them. 

you weren’t really the adventurous type when it came to drugs. you saw how badly it could screw someone’s life over, and you didn’t know if you had the willpower to “stop whenever you wanted to”. so a little marijuana had always seemed like the safest choice.

“just the usual please.” you watched as he playfully rolled his eyes at the predictability of your request.

“that’s my girl. i don’t even know why i wonder differently…” 

he dug through a large cardboard box, retrieving two dainty bags of weed and a pack of rolling paper. he wrapped them up nicely for you, knowing that the presentation meant everything to you. 

“alright, a bag of mary jane for the pretty lady.” he handed the goods to you, the smile on your face tugging at his heartstrings. “that’ll be $50.”

you hissed, the mention of the price nearly killing the mood.

“you know i’ve never had that kind of money on me, clyde. i’m barely making it by at the restaurant. i’m out looking for my third job this month.”

clyde tossed his hair out of his face, crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh. “don’t think i don’t know that times are getting hard around these parts. you know people have hardly been buying from me these days…”

you nodded, a guilt-ridden expression on your face as you cleared your throat to propose a suggestion.

“i doubt all those used-up strippers that come around here have the money. how do they pay you? blood money?”

clyde laughs heartily. “the night usually ends in some cheap sex that i regret in the morning. but a deal is a deal. you thinking of spending the night with me to cover the fee?”

you shake your head. “it’s that time of the month. i know how you are around blood.”

clyde grimaces, nodding with a chuckle. “no kidding. but you might be onto something…”

you looked up at him from your position on the couch debating whether or not to make your proposal.

“...want a blowjob..?” 

clyde’s gaze snapped to your face, looking for any hint or humour or sarcasm in your question. but you were dead serious. he looked down, a grin playing at his lips. 

“well that sure would be one hell of a payment…”

you fidgeted with your thumbs. “so… do we have a deal..?”

he smiles, extending a hand to you. “indeed we do.”

he gave you a firm handshake, spinning you around and sitting down on the couch as you stood in front of him.

you slowly sank down to your knees, resting comfortably in between his partly spread legs. your gazes met briefly, yours eager and his desperate. his imprint pressed against the soft wool of his sweatpants, betraying how much he was trying to keep his composure.

you place your hands on his thighs, trailing them up until you reach the waistband. your fingers pried underneath the elastic, the feeling of your cold fingers against his skin making him shiver. it took a moment for you to navigate your way under you felt him against your palm. you pulled out his needy erection, the tip already red and angry with desire.

clyde let out a shaky exhale, tipping his head back as your soft hands massaged his girth and teased the tip. his hips rutted up into your grip, desperate for more contact.

 you swallowed hard, getting rid of the abundance of moisture in your mouth before slowly opening your jaw, your hot breath hitting the tip and you licked a long stripe up his cock. clyde groaned deeply, his hand finding the back of your head as the other went down to cup your cheek.

you began to take him in, inch by inch as you salivated around him. you went down until your chin touched his balls and your nose tapped at the base of his length. you held back a gag as the tip hit the back of your throat. once you were secure, you bobbed your head up and down, creating suction in your cheeks to maximize his pleasure.

clyde’s breathing grew laboured, a huge grin plastered on his face. “...oh man… you’re a natural, aren’t ya..?” your heart fluttered at his praise, urging you to go a little quicker.

your tongue flicked against his tip with practiced precision. 

clyde whimpered as his hips bucked upward, forcing his length into you and out just as quickly. “i-i don’t think i’m gonna last much longer…” he swallows hard, his voice coming out strained and breathy. “...hope you’re ready for a load…”

you fondled his balls with your hand, massaging hypontic patterns onto the soft flesh. the heat of your mouth, the feeling of your perfect touch, it was all doing things to his head. better than any drug around.

as his leg began to twitch and his breathing grew weary, he vigorously thrusted into your mouth as moans and dirty phrases spilled from his lips.

“...that’s it… i’m cummin’...”

before he could fully get his warning out, his seed spilled into your mouth. everytime you thought he was running empty, another load busted onto your tongue. you gagged, your eyes welling with tears as he panted heavily, pulling your mouth off his rod as he recollected himself.

his vision went hazy. “that… that was amazing…” he looked down as you, watching you struggle to swallow his excessive load.

he waited for you to get yourself steady, but it was almost as if your body was physically rejecting his cum. you gagged, a few drops spilling out of your mouth until he quickly held the bottom of your jaw. 

“hey, hey..! easy there… what’s wrong..?” he asked frantically. you couldn’t speak, but he got the message quickly. 

he tilted your head back gently. “there you go, sweetie… swallow, swallow. just like that…” he whispered, wiping away the stray drops as you finally managed to get the thick, salty solution down.

you panted heavily, gripping onto his thighs for support. “i did it…” you managed to gasp out as he gently held your face. 

clyde pushed his hair out of his face, helping you get back to your feet. he stood up as well, still reeling over the aftershocks of his orgasm. “well, a deal is a deal.” he picked up your bagged goods from the couch, tossing them to you. 

you murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ as he walked you to the door, opening it for you like the gentleman he was.

“it was a real pleasure doing business with you.”

author's note: this request took me wayyy too long :(( and how haven't I written for clyde since April?!

[newtonsheffield]

take me home country roads was probably the softest thing I’ve ever read I’m so obsessed with it that i read all the snippets you wrote in the hashtag for this story here! do you think you will ever write something in this universe again so we can have a little update for them? thank you for this one💚

Oh Muffin and Bear.

I miss those two softies. They were so sweet. They really helped one another heal and I think because of that their relationship is really strong. And their children would be so loved.

Imagine the very first time Neddy whittled something for Kate. Imagine how Neddy’s always sat with Anthony in his workshop, sat on the bench watching his Dad work, fascinated as he watches the shapes appear.

“Can I make something, Papa?”

Anthony knelt in front of his son, five years old and Anthony still can hardly believe Kate found him. Let alone the two beautiful children they have and a third on the way. His chest feels tight every time he watches Kate with their sons, the swell of her stomach just visible when they pile onto the sofa around her, desperate to be as close as possible to her while she reads to them with her chin resting on the tops of their heads. His wife and their children.

“Do you want to?”

“Yeah!” Neddy grinned at him with his curly hair falling in his eyes, his feet swinging over the edge of the table. “I wanna be like you!”

It had brought tears to his eyes the first time they had let Neddy pick out his own clothes and he’d ended up with a pile that looked just like Anthony’s half of the wardrobe and he’d let them fall with his head against Kate’s chest and he fingers in his hair.

“Of course he wants to be like you. You’re a great father, Bear.”

Anthony kissed his son’s forehead, ruffling his hair. “Let’s make something for Amma then.”

It takes weeks. Weeks and weeks of Neddy’s hard work. His determined frown and his frustrated pout before finally it’s done and he takes them inside, wrapped in brown paper and twine.

“Mummy!” Neddy rushed forward, the parcel big in his hands as he races towards Kate sat at her easel with Miles on her lap as she works, Newton dozing at her feet. “Amma I made something!”

Kate smiled at their son and Anthony’s chest felt tight when she kissed his cheek, wrapping him in her arms tightly for a moment. “Did you? That’s so amazing little cub. Did Daddy help you?”

Her eyes met Anthony’s sparkling at him in the fading light of the day. And Anthony shifted slightly, still lost for words when he looked at her sometimes. “Just a little. It’s mostly his work.”

“Well, let’s see then.” Kate hummed, tugging carefully at the twine while Neddy practically vibrated with excitement as the paper slipped away.

Four bears on a log. That’s what Neddy had wanted to make. They were a little lumpy and imperfect but he’d made them with love and Anthony could see the way Kate swallowed thickly as she ran her fingers over the roughly oiled carvings.

“Neddy, it’s beautiful.”

“It’ll hold your brushes.” He said proudly. Leaning in to the touch of Anthony’s hand on his shoulder. “Daddy made the holes. That’s Papa, and Me, and Miles and the new baby.” He pointed to the Bear and his three cubs.

“You did such an amazing job, baby.” Kate’s voice shook as she kissed his face again, “I am so proud of you.”

Neddy took a deep breath, his chest puffing out, “Can we call gramma Mary and Violet so I can show them?”

“Absolutely, go and grab my phone.”

Neddy raced inside and Miles took off after him, desperate to catch up to his brother.

Kate stood slowly, wrapping her arms around Anthony’s waist and pressing her face against his chest. She breathed deeply, “You’ve been keeping secrets.”

Anthony huffed, holding his wife tighter, “It was hard. He was so cute about it but I took lots of videos.”

Kate sighed, leaning back in his arms, “Ugh who would’ve thought the grumpy bear I stayed next to one Autumn would make such sweet babies?”

“You did.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s so incredible to be right about everything.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.”

[forthegothicheroine]

A while ago I took a 'rewriting fairy tales' workshop, and we did some writing exercises. Here's what I wrote for the prompt, what happens after the end of a classic fairy tale.

***

"The foundling girl threw herself into the sea on the eve of my wedding," Princess Christina said. "That was the start of things. My beloved husband, of course, was sent into mourning. I hardly knew the poor girl, but I was naturally saddened and shocked. A poor start to marriage."

"Was she your husband's mistress?" asked the Abbess, the only one in the kingdom who would have dared ask it.

"I don't believe so. Rumors abounded afterwards, but Peter said she was only a shipwrecked mute to whom he gave charity, and I know of no reason to doubt him. She must have loved him, though. We prayed for her soul, although she was a suicide, that god might forgive her. We never spoke of her to little Marie, though."

The princess consort reached out to the Abbess like a child seeking help.

"Mother, my daughter plays with a ghost. I hear her laughter in the air."

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

🌸 Sapphicnatural Statistics Spreadsheet 🌸

link for the spreadsheet here!

hello hello! in may 2024 i completed a university essay studying the subversive shipping conventions of sapphicnatural fanfic in the Sapphicnatural Collection over on AO3, with the thesis that sapphicnatural ships are often rarepairs with little-to-no grounds in canon (e.g: a guest character/one-off character who have never met on screen), conversely to standard fanfic practice. as part of this, i gathered some statistics about the fics in the collection, got slightly carried away with the scope, and made a giant spreadsheet with 6 sheets of various data. with the project over, i thought it would be nice to share it with tumblr in case anyone else finds it helpful or just interesting!! i'm likely going to post the essay that i wrote alongside this in the next few weeks, so give me a shout too if that's something you'd like to see

to pique your interest, the spreadsheet includes:

Notes on methodology and the vocabulary used

Statistics on the popularity of each sapphicnatural ship in the collection and the frequency of characters featured

Analysis on some significiant ship factors: whether the characters have met in canon and how frequently characters re-occured in the show

'Ship potency', a new framework i'm workshopping to quantify how 'viable/strong' a ship is, specifically when measuring the makeup of femslash ships against mlm ships

i've written up some of the key points i found and some extra analysis about them under the cut, so read more if you're interested! <3

Contextual note: there are 129 fanfics in the Sapphicnatural collection.

Top 5 most popular Sapphicnatural ships:

donna/jody (10 fics)

anna/mary (7 fics)

jo/cassie (6 fics)

anna/ruby (5 fics)

kaia/claire (4 fics)

21 unique ships have 3 fics per ship. 24 unique ships have 2 fics per ship, and 52 unique ships have 1 fic per ship. So, only a quarter (25.3% of ships) have more than 3 fics written about them.

Rarepairs (and thus multishipping) are much more frequent in Sapphicnatural fanfiction than across most fandom fanfic collections which often centre around a specific ship

Have the characters met in canon?

Only 34.2% of ships involve two or more characters who have met on-screen in the show, with 59.6% of ships featuring two or more characters who have never met

4 out of the 5 top ships are between characters who met in the show's canon

BUT the most common dynamic is between two characters who could potentially meet in canon (are alive through the same seasons/at the same location (hell/heaven) at the same time) but who never meet in the show

This idea of 'canon potential' is the most exciting space for a lot of sapphicnatural writers, where finding gaps in the existing narrative and placing two similar women together to explore what their relationship could look often seems to be more inviting than those established on-screen

What is the spread of side/guest/one-off characters in ships?

A third (32.9%) of ships are made-up side/guest character

None of the characters featured are main characters (as none of the women spn characters can be realistically classed as 'main characters' lolol)

17 ships feature at least one one-off character, with 3 being one-off/one-off

Sapphicnatural fanfiction has a unique appreciation for reinforcing attention to minor characters, often as part of a feminist agenda to restore their agency

How frequently are individual characters featured?

Jo Harvelle is the most popular character in the sapphicnatural collection, involved in 15 unique ships across 34 fics. So, over a quarter (26.4%) of the fanfics in the collection feature Jo

Author's note: honestly this could be my individual impact on the collection as a jogirl oops

Mary Winchester is involved in 14 unique ships across 25 ships, so both Jo and Mary are significantly multi-shipped. Mary features twice across the top 5 ships

Sapphicnatural writers often write in service of a particular character rather than a ship - ie. exploring Jo's sapphic identity is more important than who her relationship is with

Charlie, Anna, Ruby, Claire, and Bela are the other characters involved in more than 10 fics each across the collection

Ship potency:

I explain this concept more on the sheet itself, but I essentially assign numerical values to whether a ship is (possible in) canon or not, how frequently characters re-occur in the show, and how popular a ship is respective to the fandom (as sapphicnatural is small, donna/jody is popular with 10 fics, for example)

This is to gain a measure of how 'strong' a ship is, assuming that a standard mlm ship will rank highly in most of these criteria (control variable of destiel ranks 29.5/30, whereas the average potency sum for a sapphicnatural ship is 11.8)

Across the top 5 ships, the average potency sum is 20.9

4/5 of the most popular sapphicnatural ships are in the top 5 for ship potency, with donna/jody, anna/mary, kaia/claire and anna/ruby having strong canon foundations and so high potency ratings.

jo/cassie is irregular as the third most popular ship because they only rank 14th for ship potency, as the pairing have not met on-screen in canon, and features a one-off character

Ships with higher potency sums do tend to be slightly more popular, but there isn't a clear pattern among any of the ships. I'd like to do some more work with this to fine-tune the system

Wordcount, kudos, and hits:

Average wordcount of a fic is 3,511 words. This fits with my other working theory (links to my post about my history essay on women's fiction through the feminist waves) that sapphicnatural writers utilise short stories and one-shots to most succesfully explore sapphic identities

Average kudos is 48, with a median of 13

Average hits is 353, with a median of 122

So: sapphicnatural fanfics receive a fairly low level of interaction, especially when compared to the mlm ships in the Supernatural fandom (destiel, etc). This is in-line with most fandoms and femslash as a whole - a small, dedicated community are reading and writing sapphicnatural

I didn't explore much here, but it would be interesting to go into further depth anout how many fics in the collection are written by different authors, etc

and that's it from me! if you've made it down here, you're an absolute gem and thank you for sticking with me! hope you foundd it as interesting to read through as i did to write up - and that you give the spreadsheet a nosey too if you fancy <3

[turbulentscrawl]

Who Smokes?

Did you know the manor has a dedicated smoke room? decisions made in collab with @athanasius-symposium-of-writings

Smokes Often

Joseph- Has at least one cigarette a day, but he only smokes outside and in a dedicated smoke room, to prevent other spaces from smelling or staining. Will give you a smoke kiss.

Mary- Also smokes at least one cigarette a day, and she uses those special holders. She and Joseph socialize while smoking a lot. Will give you a smoke kiss.

Freddy- He smokes socially, a habit he picked up from events with work colleagues, and also tends to have a smoke after dinner.

Kevin- Smokes cigarettes socially and to relax. Has also been known to dabble in other smokables. Will give you a smoke kiss.

Jose- Smokes in social settings, after dinner, and after sex. Will give you a smoke kiss.

Andrew- Won’t spend the money to buy his own cigarettes but will take any he is offered.

Fan Wujiu- Smokes cigarettes often, and always while drinking. He has and will inhale other substances. Will give you a smoke kiss.

Fools Gold- Gives no fucks—he’ll eat the whole pack in front of you.

Smokes Sometimes

Orpheus- May take a cigarette if offered one, but he prefers pipes and expensive cigars. He doesn’t necessarily smoke everyday, but he smokes after a stressful day, when he’s thinking hard, or in certain company. Will give you a smoke kiss.

Luchino- he’ll smoke cigarettes socially, but never in his office or bedroom.

Geisha- She’ll smoke a pipe to relax at the end of a long week, or after a match. Almost always in company, though. Will give you a smoke kiss.

Antonio- smokes when he drinks. Both of which he did a lot more before the manor, but it still happens a few times a week now. Will give you a smoke kiss.

Emily- Stress-smokes. She has other, better coping mechanisms, however, so this is rare.

Naib- Smokes when he’s hungry, as a distraction.

Martha- Picked it up from some coworkers, but only does it in specific social situations.

Ada- Will accept offered cigarettes out of politeness but barely uses them. She does not let Emil around others who are actively smoking because he’s got enough health issues.

Demi- Rarely keeps her own cigarettes on hand, but running a bar she was around smoke a lot and doesn’t have an issue partaking herself occasionally. Will give you a smoke kiss.

Edgar- Will smoke socially, occasionally, and with throttle anyone who smokes near his painting room.

Melly- Similar to Ada, will accept a cigarette offered to he but hardly touches it.

Alice- Will smoke socially, for the sake of blending in with the crowd.

Qi- Has a smoking pipe, and will smoke a few times a week. But only alone.

Charles- His coworkers did, so he got used to joining sometimes.

Xie Bian- Will smoke occasionally in social settings.

Galatea- Smokes with a cigarette holder because she wants to feel more like a “fancy” lady.

Never Smokes

Norton- Tried it a few times, but didn’t like it. His lungs are bad enough, thanks.

Vera- Does not smoke, and hates being around smoke. She doesn’t want to mess up her sense of smell.

Emma- She’s not interested, and doesn’t love the smell. Gets mad at people if they dump ashes in her gardens.

Lucky Guy- Tried it once, was not impressed.

William- Not willing to risk his health.

Ganji- Same as William.

Helena- Doesn’t see the appeal.

Fiona- She’s tried it a few times, but wasn’t impressed.

Eli- He tried it before and didn’t get hooked. Won’t pick it up again because Brooke Rose dislikes smoke.

Aesop- Can’t stand the smell or the residue.

Mike- Will hang around people are actively smoking, but doesn’t smoke himself.

Victor- Nervous about the health costs.

Luca- Doesn’t like smoking, and doesn’t want people doing it near his workshop.

Anne- Not interested.

Emil- Doesn’t get the appeal.

Matthias- Brings back bad memories.

Frederick- Felt forced to do it socially a few times, hates it.

Joker- Will hang around people are actively smoking, but doesn’t smoke himself.

Philippe- His sister didn’t like smoke so he never partook and doesn’t care for the residue.

Ithaqua- Has some knowledge of other consumable and smokeable substances…but doesn’t partake in tobacco.

Sangria- She needs her lungs, thank you.

Alva- Similar to Luca, he does not smoke and does not want it around his workshop.

[smilingformoney]

An Unlikely Reunion | Elliott Marston/OC

Summary: When a visitor to the station sets his eye on Elliott Marston's wife, Elliott must remind her who she belongs to.

AN: Guys, I have a confession to make.

When I started writing Sins of the Flesh, I only expected to write a one shot, so I made the main character our beloved Y/n. But as it snowballed into the story it is today, she became a character of her own, with backstory and personality, and quite frankly I think she's my favourite character I've ever written.

So from now on when I write her, she'll be Mary Taylor, the OC she was always meant to be. I hope you love her as much as I do <3

Also, you'll note this takes place in the timeline where Mary and Elliott end up together. I still consider the ending where he dies to be canon but Mary and Elliott are too cute not to play with!

Tags: fluff, smut, jealousy, outdoor sex

Word Count: 6.6k

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

When Mary had first arrived at Marston Waters with Elliott, one of the first things he did was to build an extra room to his house for her to use as a workshop. She appreciated having the space, although she preferred if she could to be in the lounge to be closer to Elliott while he worked at his desk.

She was in her workshop, putting the finishing touches on a new jacket she was making for Elliott, when the door opened, and she had to quickly shield the unfinished jacket from view to prevent him seeing it before it was done. She giggled when she saw that Elliott was holding his hand over his eyes.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m not peeking,” he said. “We’ll be having a guest for dinner tonight. Be ready for six o’clock, won’t you?”

“Of course, my love.”

Mary scurried over to him to plant a kiss to his lips, and he smiled.

“I’ll leave you to your work, darling.”

Elliott left, and Mary returned to her work, wondering just who the guest might be.

At half past five, Mary put down her fabrics and needle to get ready for dinner. She made sure to choose her nicest dress, though not too extravagant - while she didn’t know who the guest was, she knew Elliott would be wanting to impress them, so she chose a dress one might believe was a day-to-day dress while also thinking it very nice indeed.

When she came into the dining room at five minutes to six, she found Elliott and his guest already seated, both smoking cigars as Elliott told the other man about his interest in the American West.

“Ah, and here’s my darling wife,” Elliott interrupted himself with a grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her dressed so nicely for him. “Mary, this is Mr Samuel Bloome. Bloome, this is my wife, Mary.”

“How do you do, sir,” Mary said with a polite curtsy.

Bloome smiled, stood up and kissed Mary’s hand.

“A pleasure to meet such a stunning young lady out here,” he said.

Mary blushed, and was too busy taking her seat next to Elliott to notice the way her husband’s eyes narrowed at the young man.

“What grants us the honour of your company, Mr Bloome? It’s not often my husband invites a guest to join us for dinner.”

“You may have heard of my father, Marcus Bloome; he owns the land to the west of Mr Marston’s land. Or he did, until he passed away a few weeks ago; now the land falls to me. I wrote to Mr Marston to introduce myself and he invited me to visit to discuss business.”

Mary had heard Elliott speak about a landowner to the west named Bloome, but truthfully he never had anything positive to say about the man. She thought it best not to mention that for the moment.

“Oh, dear, I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr Bloome. I do hope he didn’t suffer.”

“Oh, he was old; while I mourn his passing, it wasn’t unexpected. Still, I thank you for your kind words, Mary.”

Elliott’s jaw twitched.

“I don’t know how you treat women to the west, Bloome, but while you’re on my land you’ll show my wife respect and address her as Mrs Marston.”

“Oh, Elliott, don’t be silly,” Mary said with a wave of her hand. “Just Mary is fine with me.”

“Well, it’s not fine with me,” Elliott said firmly.

Mary ducked her head slightly. “Of course, darling.”

Noticing her sudden tension, Elliott placed his hand over hers gently, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t angry at her.

The clock chimed six o’clock, and on cue the butler entered from the kitchen with a tray, carrying three plates of delicious-smelling steak. He served Mary first, as Elliott had instructed him to always do, then Elliott, and finally Bloome.

“So Mrs Marston, I notice you have a London accent,” Bloome said conversationally as they all began to eat. “Are you from there?”

“Yes, I arrived in Australia four months ago,” Mary replied. “I met Elliott when he visited London, we fell in love and were married there before he returned here with me.”

Elliott smiled at her. “Yes, I went to London to execute my cousin’s estate and came back with the sweetest lady in London as my wife. I count myself lucky every day.”

Mary blushed. “Oh, Elliott, hush. Are you married, Mr Bloome?”

“Not yet. I’ve had various gentlemen offer me their daughters, especially when it became apparent that I was shortly to inherit my father’s land, but never a woman who’s piqued my interest. Charming girls, of course, but clearly more interested in my father’s land than myself. Call me a romantic fool, but I’d rather marry for love than a transaction. The problem is, of course, that any woman worthy of loving is snatched up quickly.” He raised his glass of wine to Mary. “A clear example. I’m not surprised Mr Marston married a woman as beautiful as yourself so promptly. If I’d met you and learned you were available, I’d have dropped to one knee there and then.”

“Do you encounter many deserters to the west, Bloome?” Elliott said quickly. “I usually send those I find on my land to Major Ashley-Pitt, although sometimes I have to administer justice myself.”

He withdrew his revolver from his belt and placed it on the table with a smug smile. “This is my administrator of choice. The colt revolver, created by Samuel Colt himself and imported from America. Some people say I’m the fastest draw in Australia.”

“And are you one of those people, Mr Marston?”

Mary had to disguise her laugh as a cough. Elliott glanced at Mary, then back at Bloome. He placed his revolver back in his belt, then said, “I’m not one to toot my own horn, but I’m yet to be bested. Unless you’d care to challenge me? A friendly competition between neighbours, of course.”

Bloome held his hands up. “I’m not a gunman myself. More of a man of letters - my younger brother was always the brawn, and I was the brains.”

“And who’s the beauty?” Mary asked.

“Oh, my sister, naturally. She had suitors from every direction until she married a man from Canada and moved there with him.”

The conversation continued as they ate, and Mary found Mr Bloome more and more interesting as he told more stories about his life. Although they hadn’t discussed it, Mary felt that Elliott didn’t want it mentioned that she had previously been married to his cousin, and so she skirted around the topic when it almost came up.

After dinner, Elliott and Mr Bloome were to discuss business, so with a curtsy to Mr Bloome and a kiss to Elliott’s cheek, she left them to it and took herself on a stroll around the station. She ended up, as she usually did, in the stable, keeping company with the horses. She found it soothing to brush their manes, and when Elliott found her there, the sun had long since set in the sky.

“There’s my little kola bear,” he said endearingly as he approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s not safe for you out here after dark, darling, you know that.”

“Nonsense, El, I’m perfectly safe. Chestnut will look after me, won’t you, girl?”

She stroked the horse she’d been grooming, and Chestnut whinnied in response.

“Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? The natives wouldn’t dare approach the station, and your men know better than to harm me.”

“Mmm, maybe, but I’m not so sure about that Bloome fellow,” Elliott replied as he nuzzled his nose against his wife’s hair, as if he were sniffing her to pick up her scent. “I don’t like the way he was looking at you - or talking to you. He said himself that if we weren’t married he’d have proposed to you himself.”

“Are you jealous, Elliott?” Mary giggled. She turned in his arms so that they were facing one another, and she leant up on her toes to kiss him.

“Silly man. You know you’re the only one for me. What would I possibly see in Bloome?”

“He’s younger than me, for a start. Much closer to your age. A more appropriate match, some would say.”

“I don’t care about that, El. I like that you’re older than me. It means you have more experience, in life and in… other matters.”

“He’s handsome.”

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed. Not as handsome as you, that’s for certain.”

“His lands are bigger.”

“Now I know you’re being silly. There’s only one matter in which I care about size, darling, and I suspect you’re leagues ahead of him in that department.”

Elliott raised an eyebrow, a flirtatious smirk forming on his face.

“Oh, really? And what matter is that, exactly?”

Mary smiled coyly.

“Well… your hat, of course.”

Elliott blinked. “My what?”

“I saw his hat hanging by the door during dinner. Have you seen the brim on it? It’s abysmal. Yours is much more practical, darling, especially since you started wearing the one I made you, if I do say so myself. And you look so very handsome in it.”

Elliott laughed and kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you, darling. So I have nothing to worry about from Bloome then?”

“Hmm, well… now you mention it, he does have a lot of land…”

“Right, that’s it.”

Elliott lifted her up with ease, and her squeal of surprise startled Chestnut slightly, although when she saw that the apparent assailant was only Elliott, the horse seemed to let it slide. Elliott threw Mary over his shoulder and carried her out of the stable, only to take her around the back to where the hay was stored and throw her onto a bale.

“What are you doing?” Mary asked playfully.

“I’m going to remind you who you belong to,” Elliott said darkly, his hand already unbuckling his belt as he loomed over her. “I can’t have my wife admiring another man’s land, can I?”

“I admire all of Australia, Elliott, not just your part of it. Perhaps you could take Bloome’s land and have it all to yourself.”

“Maybe I will. I’ll have the land and the most beautiful wife in Australia, and he’ll have nothing.”

“Not even a good hat.”

Elliott grinned. He pulled his cock out of his trousers and began fondling it, watching Mary hungrily as she lay against the hay bale, her legs spread and her skirt riding up her legs to reveal her shins.

“Pull your skirt up, darling. Let me see what’s mine.”

She obeyed like the good wife she was, allowing Elliott to pull her bloomers off and toss them aside, and even in the moonlight Elliott could see her cunt glistening with her desire.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Elliott groaned as he tugged languidly on his cock, encouraging it to life as he stared hungrily at his wife. “And so wet already. Is that all for me, darling, or did Bloome turn you on at the dinner table?”

“It’s all for you, my love,” Mary panted, her breaths getting heavier as her arousal took over. “You’re the only one my cunt obeys.”

“Mmm, we know that’s not true, don’t we? It obeys you too. Go on - show me. Use your fingers. I want to watch you pleasure yourself.”

Mary obeyed, one hand sliding between her legs to circle her lips before she dipped a finger into her entrance, just deep enough to gather up her arousal, then withdrew and circled her sweet spot just right, in the way she’d learnt to give herself pleasure far too recently.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers,” Elliott growled, his wrist pumping a little faster now. “Tell me how wet you are in there.”

Mary let out a gasp as she slid two fingers inside her, and she could feel just how wet she was getting for him.

“I’m so - so wet for you, El,” she moaned. “I want you inside me.”

He grinned hungrily. “Oh you do, do you? You want my cock to fill you up, is that it?”

“Yes - yes, please, Elliott. I need you… need you to take me hard, claim me as yours…”

“Oh, with pleasure, darling.”

Elliott leant her over, positioning himself between her legs. He rubbed his cock up her slit, coating it with her desire, before pressing his cockhead against her entrance.

“Who do you belong to?” Elliott demanded between gritted teeth, clearly resisting thrusting straight into her.

“I’m - I’m yours,” Mary gasped. “I’m all yours, Elliott. My body is yours… my heart is yours… I am yours…”

Elliott thrust forwards, sliding easily inside her, and Mary groaned with relief to feel her husband filling her up. It had been a few days since they’d last made love, and she hadn’t realised until now just how much she craved him.

“Mmm… my wife,” Elliott sighed as he filled her up completely, his cock hilted inside her with a firm, possessive stretch. “My good little slut, opening her legs for me behind the stable. No one around but God to witness, and even if someone were to see, what would it matter, hm? I have every right to fuck my wife on my land. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Elliott, yes… take me here, please, fill me up…”

“As my wife commands.”

She cried out with pleasure as he pounded into her, both of them still fully clothed but for the bare essentials. Mary grabbed at Elliott’s waistcoat, unbuttoning it desperately as she sought to uncover her husband’s bare chest. Thanks to her nimble tailor’s fingers, Mary was able to unbutton the waistcoat without Elliott needing to slow his thrusts, and she slid her hands hungrily under his shirt to slip her arms around his shoulders and hold him close to her.

“I’m going to make you cum under the stars,” Elliott growled. “And I want you to cum loud . Let everyone know the pleasure only I can give you.”

“By everyone, do you really mean Bloome?”

Elliott snarled at the mention of the other man’s name. “If he wants to covet my wife, let him. I’d covet you too if you were another man’s wife. But you’re mine, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“Of course, El, I - I only want you,” Mary gasped, her grip on his shoulders tightening as she came closer and closer to her peak. “I’m yours - all yours - never - never want anyone else, Elliott, only you…”

“Mmm, I’m going to fill you up with my seed, give you a baby, then nobody will ever doubt that you’re mine,” Elliott panted. “I can’t wait to see your belly grow big with child… you’ll be even more beautiful than you are now…”

“Oh, yes, El, give it to me. I want your seed, want your baby… please… oh God, Elliott, please, fuck me harder…”

He obeyed, and when Mary came with a loud cry of his name, Elliott’s pleasure came shortly after, his seed shooting inside her just as he promised, filling her up with a relaxing warmth. His moan of pleasure was the most beautiful sound in the world, and Mary felt a peculiar kind of comfort in taking her husband’s seed under the stars. It felt so good, so right, as if making love in the open air was the only thing that she needed in the world.

“I love you, Elliott,” Mary mumbled as she came down from her high, both of them breathing heavily as they basked in the moment. “Thank you for… well, for everything.”

Elliott chuckled and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you for choosing to marry me, darling. Now how about we get ourselves inside, hm? It’s getting cold and I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

He pulled out of her and stood up to tuck himself away before putting his hand out to help Mary to her feet.

“I don’t believe there’s such a thing as cold in Australia,” Mary said as she straightened down her dress. Elliott plucked a stray piece of hay from her hair. “Even the nights are warmer than the days in London. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”

“Hm, I suppose it would be warm to you, wouldn’t it?” Elliott mused as he put an arm around her waist to escort her back around the stable towards their home. “Just as a warm day in London to you would be cold to me.”

“It’s a good thing you came during summer; if you’d come during winter, you might have frozen to death.” She gasped as she came to a sudden realisation. “If it’s never cold here, does that mean you’ve never seen snow?”

“I’ve not seen it myself, though I believe it snows in the mountains to the east.”

“Can we visit next winter? Oh, please let’s, El, I love snow. Tommy and I used to build snowmen every Christmas, and all the children would have snowball fights in Hyde Park! It was so wonderful, because it really was all the children - even those from the manor houses would play in the snow with us street urchins. There was no class or status in a snowball fight - only who had the better aim!”

“And did you have the better aim?” Elliott asked.

“Well, of course. We were quite a formidable duo, Tommy and I - he’d make the snowballs, I’d throw them. I particularly enjoyed throwing them at the boys, because they daren’t hit a girl, even with a snowball!”

They were approaching the house now, and Mary was still buzzing with excitement as she reminisced about the happier moments of her childhood with her brother. She continued chattering away as they entered the house, Elliott listening with close attention and complete adoration.

They were both unaware that Bloome and some of the men were still awake, smoking and playing cards on the porch of the men’s cabin. They’d heard every word of Mary and Elliott’s conversation - as well as the unmistakable moans from behind the stable.

Bloome placed a card down and said casually, “Such childlike wonder. Is that really the same woman we heard moaning like a whore just now?”

“She practically is a child,” Kelly snorted. “She must be, what, eighteen? He’s forty-four, I know that. Could be her father.”

“Ah, you’re just jealous ‘cause your wife’s an old hag,” Dogen said, and the others laughed.

“Eighteen, you say?” Bloom said thoughtfully, taking a puff from his cigar. “Interesting…”

Meanwhile, inside the house, Mary had exhausted herself of stories about playing in the snow and was now telling Elliott about Christmas in London as they readied themselves for bed.

“Oh, and Mrs Harris - that’s the seamstress I used to work for - she always made the most delicious plum pudding at Christmas, and she always saved me a slice after her family had devoured most of it. I’d share half with Tommy, of course, and so I only ever had a mouthful or two, but oh, it was the most delicious mouthful I’d have all year!” Mary gasped. “Do you have plum pudding here, Elliott? I’d love to have a whole slice to myself this year — if that’s not too much to ask, of course.”

Elliott chuckled and placed his hands on Mary’s shoulders.

“Mary, your excitement is endearing as always, but you’re getting yourself all worked up before bed. You’ll be up all night if you keep getting yourself excited.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, I do get carried away sometimes —”

“Don’t apologise, my love. Your excitement at life’s pleasures is one of my favourite things about you. But I don’t want you bouncing off the walls when you should be bouncing on my lap.”

Mary blushed.

“Elliott! We just made love not five minutes ago! Are you truly that insatiable?”

He smiled and reached around to squeeze her bum.

“You make me insatiable, darling. I simply can’t get enough of you. Come, let’s get into bed. Would you like me to read to you tonight?”

Mary’s eyes lit up. She loved the sound of her husband’s voice, so deep and smooth, and it did always soothe her to listen to him reading aloud, even if she didn’t understand the books he read.

“Yes, please, darling. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. You know I love to read to you. But I’ll warn you, I’m reading a book on the American Constitution, you might find it boring.”

“Oh, good, I’m more likely to fall asleep,” Mary teased. She kissed him on the nose, then climbed into bed and patted the space beside her. “Come on, El, bore me to sleep with talk of constitutions.”

Elliott shook his head and laughed, wondering for what must have been the thousandth time how he’d been so fortunate to find himself such an endearing wife.

He climbed into bed with her, picking up his book from his nightstand as he did so, and waited until she was comfortably curled up against his chest before he began to read.

“Assuming it therefore as an established truth that the several States, in case of disunion, or such combinations of them as might happen to be formed out of the wreck of the general Confederacy…”

---

To her surprise, Mary woke the next day before Elliott did.

He was often up much earlier than her, and either he’d get up to start working, or he’d stay in bed and coax her awake for some early morning lovemaking.

She stayed in bed a little while, watching him sleep. He looked so peaceful, and when she grazed his lips with a light kiss, he smiled and held her tighter to his chest.

Eventually, Mary had to wriggle out of her husband’s grasp, because she needed the toilet. When she was finished, she peered out the window, and noticed that the sun was only just beginning to rise. Why she was awake so early, she had no idea, but she was wide awake now and thought she might as well make use of her time.

After dressing herself, she made her way into the kitchen, which usually the butler used, but even he was asleep. She explored the cupboards, found some ingredients along with some pots and pans, and set to work making breakfast for Elliott.

“I hope you don’t mind me using your space, Kunkurra,” Mary called out when she heard the back door opening and closing behind her. “I woke early for some reason, and I thought Elliott might like it if I brought him breakfast. You can go back to bed for a little while, if you’d like.”

She turned around to gauge the servant’s reaction, since she knew he wouldn’t vocalise a response, and to her surprise she realised that it wasn’t Kunkurra at all, but Samuel Bloome.

“Oh, Mr Bloome! I apologise, I thought you were the butler. What are you doing up so early? And - in my kitchen?”

“I’ve always been an early riser,” Bloome replied casually, his hands behind his back as he looked around the kitchen. “As for my coming here, I saw you through the windowpane and was curious why a lady such as yourself would be at work in the kitchen.”

“Well, as I said, I thought I’d make Elliott some breakfast. I don’t often wake before him, so it’s a nice treat.”

“And what are you making?” Bloome asked, stepping closer to her to peer at her worktop.

“Nothing much. Some eggs, bacon, sausage - oh, I should get some bread out! He likes toasted bread with his breakfast. Coffee, too, but I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to make it. I may wait for the butler to make that.”

“Your devotion to your husband is incredible.”

“Don’t tell him I told you, but the tough gunslinger act is just a façade. He’s really the sweetest man in the world. He does so much for me… I like to do what I can in return.”

“You say you met in London - how did you meet, exactly?”

Mary glanced nervously at Bloome, who had lifted himself to sit on an empty countertop as if he were as comfortable here as in his own home.

“Oh, um… I suppose it’s not uncommon knowledge, as the whole station knows, but Elliott’s not my first husband. My late husband was Elliott’s cousin — the one whose estate Elliott came to London to execute. He came to my house to introduce himself, I offered him a place to stay… we ended up spending a lot of time together, and we fell in love, so we married, sold my late husband’s estate, and I came back to Australia with him.”

“You left London behind for him?”

“Well, I had nothing left, you see,” Mary explained as she carefully lifted the cooked eggs onto a plate. “My family are gone, then I lost my husband too… all I had was the estate, and I knew if I stayed there alone I’d be hounded with suitors itching for my late husband’s estate. There - I think I’ve done a rather good job, if I say so myself!”

Mary looked proudly at the plate, and she thought honestly that each piece of food was cooked just to Elliott’s liking.

“Such a good wife you are,” said Bloome.

There was something strange in the way he spoke that gave Mary pause, as if there were some veiled threat behind it. She glanced at him and was discomforted by the way he was looking at her, as if one wrong move from her might cause him to do something rash.

“Yes, well, I - I’ll be taking this to Elliott now before it gets cold. A pleasure to talk to you, Mr Bloome - do make sure to say goodbye before you leave this morning.”

With a quick curtsy, Mary left the kitchen with the plate of food, some cutlery and a glass of orange juice on a tray.

She entered the bedroom to find Elliott was half awake, stirring in bed, perhaps just realising she wasn’t there.

“Good morning, my love. I thought you might like some breakfast in bed today.”

Elliott sat up groggily and looked over at her, smiling when he saw her and his eyes widening when he spotted the tray of food.

“For me, darling?”

“Of course, who else? I woke before you and thought I might make you some breakfast as a treat.”

Elliott sat himself up in bed, and Mary thought it incredibly endearing the way his hair stood up from the night’s sleep. She placed the tray over his lap, and Elliott stared at it in wonder.

“Mary, this is so thoughtful. Thank you. Did you make this all yourself?”

“Yes, so if anything’s wrong the blame’s all mine; I don’t believe Kunkurra is even awake yet. Although I think I managed to match the way you like it.”

Elliott cut a piece of bacon, dipped it in the egg yolk, and tasted it. He closed his eyes and sighed a mmph of approval.

“It’s perfect, darling. A perfect breakfast from a perfect wife. What more could I ask for?”

“A napkin to wipe the egg from your face?” Mary giggled when she saw that some of the yolk had clung to her husband’s moustache. She took a napkin from the tray and gently dabbed at his face.

“You couldn’t kiss it off?” he suggested with a smile.

“I don’t want to kiss you with egg on your face! I like to taste you, not some egg yolk, no matter how perfectly I cooked it. There. Only one mouthful, and you’re already getting it caught in your moustache! You need a trim, El.”

“Hm, yes, I suppose,” Elliott said thoughtfully, stroking his face to feel the length of the hair. “I’ll have a shave later. First, I need to eat this delicious breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Alright. I’ll leave you to it, darling.”

Mary kissed him on the cheek, then left to seek out her own breakfast.

She had the butler bring her some fresh fruits and instructed him not to bother himself with Elliott’s breakfast, only to bring him some coffee. She sat on the porch in the morning sun, picking through her plate of fruit as she watched the rest of the station gradually wake up and start working.

Near the gates, Samuel Bloome’s horse was tied up, waiting for its owner to saddle up to ride back to his own land. A boy was loading the horse with supplies, and Mary wondered to herself if Elliott ought to hire a boy for running messages and helping out with the animals.

Her mind wandered to her brother Tommy, who was also in Australia somewhere, working away the sentence her first husband had imposed. She had wondered if she might see him in Australia, but when she expressed this to Elliott on their departure from London, he told her in the kindest words he had that London could fit into Australia over four thousand times and the likelihood of bumping into her brother was slim.

Elliott’s porch purposely had a vantage point over the entire station, and so Mary had a clear view of Bloome as he came striding out of the lodge, dressed ready for travel.

“Taylor! Are those horses ready yet?”

Mary’s heart jumped in surprise. At first she thought he had been addressing her, but then she realised that was silly, not least because there was no way Bloome would even know her maiden name, let alone use it. He was clearly talking to the boy, who by coincidence shared her last name - or perhaps it was his first name.

The boy spoke quieter than Bloome and he was too far for Mary to hear, but she surmised from the way he moved towards the stables that he was going to ready his own horse.

Mary smiled to herself as she remembered her escapades with Elliott in the stables last night — then, with a spike of fear to her heart, she realised she remembered Elliott taking her bloomers off and throwing them to the side… but she didn’t recall putting them back on.

She jumped up quickly and walked quickly to catch up with the boy, hoping she could find a way to locate and hide her discarded bloomers without him noticing — that was, if none of the men had found them already. How embarrassing if they were to be found by anyone other than her husband!

Fortunately, when Mary entered the stable, she saw that the boy was attending to a horse near the entrance, the opposite end to where she and Elliott had snuck off to last night.

“Do you need some help with your horse? I’m quite good with them, you know,” Mary said to the boy, hoping that if she assisted him he’d leave sooner and give her a chance to search for her bloomers.

The boy turned around, and his eyes widened.

“Mary?”

She almost admonished him for calling her by her first name, but then she really looked at him, and she let out a shocked squeak.

“Tommy?”

Could it really be him? He was taller, his strong frame almost indistinguishable from the skinny boy she’d last seen in the back of a prison carriage. She’d not recognised him from behind - but now, seeing his face up close, Mary knew her baby brother even after two years of labour in the Australian desert.

She rushed forward and took him in her arms, both of them laughing at the incredulity of the situation, neither having expected to see the other so far from home — Tommy, particularly, had no reason to believe his sister was even on the same continent.

“Oh, Tom, you’re so tall!” Mary gushed, finally releasing him from their tight embrace to look at him properly. “And so strong - you almost winded me! And brown too - have you been protecting yourself from the sun properly? Sun sickness can kill, you know.”

“Yes, mum,” Tommy said with a roll of his eyes. He couldn’t believe that his sister had appeared suddenly out here - and was immediately nagging him! “But I don’t understand - what are you doing in Australia, and here of all places?”

“Well, in fact I —”

“There you are!” Elliott’s voice interrupted her as he entered the stable, apparently looking for one or both of them. He glanced between the two of them, frowning when he saw Mary was holding Tommy’s hands in hers. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, sir,” Tommy said quickly, dropping his hands and ducking his head.

“Oh, Tommy, don’t be silly. Elliott, you won’t believe it — you’ll remember I told you about my brother?”

“The one my cousin transported? Yes, I remember.”

He glanced at Tommy with a frown.

“Do you mean to say this is him?”

“Yes!” Mary beamed, putting a hand around Tommy’s shoulder proudly. “He must be working his sentence with Mr Bloome!”

Elliott looked at Tommy questioningly. “Is that right, boy?”

“Y - yes, sir,” Tommy mumbled, his eyes nervously fixed on the floor. “I’ve worked for the Bloome family since I arrived, sir.”

Elliott folded his arms and looked at Tommy appraisingly.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Tommy raised his chin to look at Elliott, albeit with great reluctance. Elliott looked at him thoughtfully, then seemed to decide something with himself because he nodded and looked back at Mary.

“Darling, we should say goodbye to Bloome.”

“Yes, of course. Tommy, do you need a hand with your horse?”

“No need,” Elliott said dismissively. “Leave the horse for now. Both of you, come with me.”

Curious, Mary and Tommy followed Elliott back outside to where Bloome was waiting with his horse, leaning against a fence post and smoking a cigarette.

“Where’s your horse, Taylor?” Bloome asked, but Elliott held up a hand.

“I’ll keep the horse. And I’ll keep the boy.”

Mary had to stop herself from gaping at Elliott. Bloome scoffed incredulously.

“Oh, you will, will you? He’s a good lad, and the horse too. Why would I give them to you?”

Elliott put his hands in his pockets casually.

“Oh, you won’t. You’ll sell them to me.”

Bloome narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“And how much am I selling them for?”

“Name your price. I’ve got gold.”

“So do I, plenty of it. Strong, hardworking boys like Taylor here are few and far between. I’m afraid I’ll need something a bit more valuable than some gold.”

Mary didn’t like the way Bloome was looking at her.

“I’ve got plenty of good men here,” Elliott replied. “Take your pick. Except Dobkin, I like him.”

“Oh, it’s not a man I want,” Bloome said with a hungry look in his eye. He stepped towards Mary predatorially, his eyes fixed on her. “I want your wife.”

Mary took a step back instinctively; both Elliott and Tommy took a step towards her protectively.

“Absolutely not,” Elliott snarled.

Bloome shrugged. “You’re the one desperate to buy, Marston. Why you want my boy and his horse so bad, I don’t know, but you said to name my price and I’ve named it. I want her.”

Elliott’s hand twitched near his gun.

“Mary is not chattel to be bartered with, Bloome. She’s the one who wants the boy, not me - trading them would defeat the point.”

“Not a trade, then. A… loan, let’s call it. An hour would do.”

Bloome didn’t specify exactly what he meant to do with this hour, but he didn’t need to. Mary knew. They all did.

“You really think I would whore my wife out to you, Bloome?” Elliott growled.

“Those are my terms,” Bloome said smugly, clearly revelling in the fact that he held all the cards. “Take it or leave it.”

Mary grabbed Elliott’s hand before it could twitch any closer to his gun.

“It’s okay, El,” she said quietly. “It… it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve exchanged my body for Tommy’s safety.”

Elliott turned to face her, his eyes dark with anger.

“And I swore you’d never have to do something like that again,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You also swore you’d let me make my own choices.”

“And you’d choose this? To - to whore yourself out to this bastard? No. I won’t allow it, Mary.”

“But Tommy —”

“Will stay with us. But I will pay the price, not you.”

Bloome scoffed. “Respectfully, Marston, you’re not my type.”

In a split second, Elliott had pulled his hand from Mary’s grip, and his revolver was out, the trigger pulled, and Bloome cried out in pain and shock as a bullet lodged itself in his knee. He fell to the floor, clutching the bleeding limb, and Elliott just laughed.

“Go and get the butler,” Mary said to Tommy urgently. “Tell him a man’s been shot. He’ll know what to do.”

Tommy nodded, then set off running to Elliott’s house. Mary turned back to her husband, who was now standing over Bloome, his gun still in his hand as he watched the other man writhing in pain.

“Stop crying, you’ll be fine,” Elliott taunted him. “I could have killed you, but then I’d have to dispose of the body, and I can’t be bothered with the effort for a pathetic worm like you.”

Mary knew she should be frightened, and perhaps in some way she was, but she also found it extremely arousing to see Elliott so strong, so powerful, so clever — and all to protect her honour.

Kunkurra came hurrying over with his usual kit to patch up gunshot wounds. Without questioning what had happened, the servant knelt down by Bloome and began working on patching up the leg. Bloome wailed as the bullet was fished out of his flesh, and Elliott just rolled his eyes.

He turned back to Mary and Tommy, and his expression softened.

“Tommy, get your belongings and head to the men’s quarters. There’ll be a spare bed for you in there. Mary - come with me, let’s get you inside. We’ve had enough excitement for one morning, don’t you think?”

Tommy obeyed, and Elliott put a hand on Mary’s back to escort her back to the house.

“Do you think that was a good idea?” Mary asked, her voice low so as not to be overheard. “You might have just made a powerful enemy, Elliott.”

Elliott scoffed. “He said it himself, Mary, he’s a man of letters, not a fighter. We’ve nothing to fear from him.”

“Bulwer-Lytton said the pen is mightier than the sword.”

“And Marston said the gun can shoot the pen and the sword out of a man’s hands before he has a chance to lift them.”

Mary laughed. Only Elliott would refer to himself as if he were some great poet.

“I’m serious, El. Don’t let your confidence be your downfall. I - I don’t want to lose you.”

Elliott paused as they entered the house. He turned to Mary and took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips to kiss them gently.

“I promise, you’re not losing me.”

“Swear it?”

“On my mother’s grave.”

Mary smiled, and Elliott’s heart softened just to see that sweet smile he loved so much.

“Now, let’s give Bloome some gold for Tommy and send him on his way. I’m sure you and Tommy have plenty of catching up to do, hm?”

Mary beamed.

“You’ll really keep him?”

Elliott kissed the top of her head gently, and she practically melted into his gentle touch. How could a man so fierce and terrifying be so kind and gentle?

“Of course I will, darling. I know how much you love him. And I hope you know how much I love you.”

Mary looked up at him, her eyes wide and adoring.

“I love you too, Elliott. With all my heart.”

[jgroffdaily]

Excerpts from the article (which appeared online as cast and crew were traveling to their first rehearsal today):

On a chilly day in early February, Jonathan Groff, Daniel Radcliffe, and Lindsay Mendez are huddled on a couch in a photo studio in Queens. Not three weeks after Merrily We Roll Along ended its off-Broadway run at the New York Theatre Workshop, gathering again for a photo shoot has made all of the actors cry. (An amused publicist thinks it was the sight of their old costumes, by Soutra Gilmour, that set everyone off.) “It’s just really settling in that we’re taking this to Broadway,” offers Mendez, a Tony winner for Jack O’Brien’s 2018 revival of Carousel. “It’s a big dream for us to get to shepherd this piece, which means so much to so many people, and yet has never gotten its proper due.”

“To hear the overture on Broadway…?” Groff adds. “I’m gonna die.”

In the Broadway production, which begins previews this September at the Hudson Theatre, Groff stars as Frank, ​in turns slickly handsome, roiled with conflict, and sparky as a golden retriever; Radcliffe as an endearingly neurotic Charley; and Mendez as Mary, whose wide smile conceals great depths of longing (namely, for Frank).

For Groff, doing Merrily felt fated. “I had just reached this point in my life where I was really looking back and reflecting on relationships that I suddenly realized were almost two decades old,” he explains. He later learned that Radcliffe and Mendez had done their own “first big New York shows” (revivals of Equus and Grease, respectively) at around the same time. This was no small thing, as they approached a story as concerned with the vicissitudes of a career in the performing arts as anything else.

“The people that start young and then stay in it well into adulthood tend to love it,” Radcliffe says. “They tend to be doing it because there is something in their bones that makes them want to do this. And I think we all have that.” Adds Mendez, “There’s an unspoken-ness between us. There’s a lot of trust, and a lot of teamwork.” (When I ask Friedman about her stars’ touching natural chemistry, she tells me that in Merrily, Sondheim has “written love songs. He’s written about losing love, wanting love, missing love, despair, all the things, but it’s all around love.” So, in the year that she spent building her New York cast, “I looked for loving people.”)

For all intents and purposes, the Broadway revival is the same show that ran at the New York Theatre Workshop. Not only do both productions share the same actors—including Katie Rose Clarke as Frank’s estranged first wife, Beth; Hamilton alumna Krystal Joy Brown as his glamorous second wife, Gussie; and Reg Rogers as Joe, the producer behind the first hit show that Frank and Charley write together—but the same creative and production team, too. “We had a big break between the New York Theatre Workshop and going to Broadway, and every single person has come with it. They all took other jobs in order to be able to do this job,” Friedman says. “It just cast a spell over us all.”

As they move into the Hudson—which Friedman selected for its intimate-feeling scale (of Broadway’s 41 active theaters, it’s one of only nine that seats under 1,000 people)—she is keen to protect that enchantment. “I am absolutely determined not to do anything different,” Friedman says. “The piece is the piece; it speaks for itself. And as long as we keep the integrity of that and the joy and the warmth and the love and the storytelling—it should sing.” This has more or less been her line from the beginning. “One of the things that Maria has said from day one is, ‘I have not changed a lyric of this show or a word of the script. I am doing this show as written,’ ” Groff says. “It’s not like she’s doing a take on Merrily. She really believes in the piece itself without adding any sort of flashy concept.”

Then as now, her deepest regret is that Sondheim is not alive to see the production, but she knows that he would have delighted in Merrily’s return to Broadway. Her only hope is that after all these years, audiences are ready to receive it. “It’s a profound piece,” Friedman says. “If it gets you, it stays with you and makes you ask questions. And if it doesn’t get you, it’s got some great tunes.”

PIANO MAN

Groff wears a Gucci jacket. Pants from The Row. Grooming, Amy Komorowski.

In this story: hair, Ilker Akyol; makeup, Francelle Daly for Love+Craft+Beauty. Produced by The Canvas Agency. Set Design: Viki Rutsch.

[ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnosblog]

This is the drawing of a horse from a manuscript from the 13th century. (Wien, Österr. Nationalbibl., Cod. 2742*)

It's from a copy of Priest Wernher's driu liet von der maget ("Drei Lieder über die Jungfrau"), a three part vernacular retelling of the life of Mary. The horse is just some sketch in the front, in between unrelated little tidbits. Right beneath it it says "Wer daz pferd hat geschriben der ist ein guter gesell" – which roughly translates to "the one who drew this horse is a cool guy". (The rest of the sentence is really hard to read, my colleagues and I (one being an expert on medieval handwriting) tried to decipher it, but couldn't make out the whole sentence.)

I used this image in a workshop I held about the use of AI in Higher Education. I had it as the intro image and waited till the end to explain. Because the point I was trying to make: The ultimate reason why we write is to connect as humans. And it doesn't matter if it's a silly little horse badly drawn in the manuscript of a religious text. You cannot imagine the joy my colleagues and I had when I stumbled on this image purely by chance, I immediately ran across the whole institute to show it to everyone. They printed this horse on the Goodbye card when I left and I keep it in my new office.

It's not about how beautiful something is, how well crafted, how perfect. Ultimately, it is about sharing the human experience, to connect to people, even if it's centuries into the future. People will be people, and I will always think of that looking at that horse.

[ncityprincess]

one last present 🎁 ♥️

pairing: yuta x y/n

plot: this is extremely corny and stereotypical but i wanted to write it anyway 😁 y/n has a sexy little christmas surprise for her boyfriend yuta. also this is very loosely based off of @neoculturecollectives Yuta role play fic series. it wasn't supposed to be a role play thing but the pieces just kinda fell into place lmaoo 😭. songs I listened to while writing this (no correlation to the story but I just wanted to add these in lol): drunk on you by jus2, square biz by Teena Marie, you calling my name by got7, blue orangeade by txt, 2 on by tinashe

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!

“i actually have a few more presents for you. wait for me out here, i’ll be right back” you said with a sweet smile. you and yuta had gotten a little too intoxicated last night at your family’s annual christmas eve party. needless to say you two spent christmas morning and christmas afternoon knocked out cold with the curtains closed.

“more?? you already went overboard with the gifts this year, sweet pea” yuta said as he took a look at the mess of gift boxes and wrapping paper that littered the living room. it was your guys’ first christmas together in your new house. you wanted to make it extra special and memorable. “yeah yeah, mr. modest. just get nice and comfy and i’ll be back in a few.” before yuta could protest you sprang up and skipped to the bedroom. yuta shook his head, but did exactly as you asked and got to work cleaning up in the meantime.

you grabbed the hidden shopping bag from the back of your closet and pulled out the red, lacy number. you had seen this sexy lingerie set at victoria’s secret while you were out shopping one day and you just had to have it. yuta was like a starved man when it came to seeing you in lingerie. it didn’t matter much, or how little you left to the imagination. he loved seeing you dressed up in dainty little garments. you felt hot in them, he loved fucking you them. a win for all parties involved.

you stepped into the red negligée and admired the red bows on the straps. the crimson color complimented your skin nicely. you slipped on a pair of stilettos and finished off the look with some red lipstick. you took one last look at yourself in the mirror before fluffing up your hair. let the games begin, you thought to yourself.

when you opened the door you saw yuta in the kitchen throwing away the last of the wrapping paper. he had no idea what he was in for. “excuse me, can you please help me find santa’s workshop? i’m a little lost” you said in a soft, seductive voice. yuta whipped his head around and his eyes immediately went dark. you had him right where you wanted him.

“holy shit babe, what are you doing to me?” he growled. “don’t you like it? i’m like a little present you can unwrap.” you did a slow spin for him so that he could get the full essence of the outfit. yuta stalked over to you slowly, taking in your delicious curves and beauty. “of course i do, sweet pea. but why are you looking for santa when i’m right here?” yuta indulged in your little fantasy you created.

“well, i’m supposed to be with all the other presents in santa’s workshop, but i think he forgot about me” you said with faux sadness. “well shit, i’m not santa, but i can definitely use another present. you gonna let me open you up and play with you baby?” yuta ran his hands up and down your sides and stared down at you like you were his prey.

“uh huh” you bit your lip and looked up at him with the cutest doe eyes you could muster. yuta grabbed your hand and led you to the living room. “why don’t you go lay under the christmas tree for me, sweet pea? show me how pretty my little present is." you walked over toward the christmas tree with an extra sway of your hips and slowly kneeled onto the ground. yuta looked down at you and watched as you arched your back, ass high in the sky on full display. you maneuvered onto your side, resting your head on your hand and posed perfectly for your man.

“do i look pretty for you, sir?” yuta’s dick twitched in his christmas pajamas. you were being so obedient and submissive, it drove him insane. “fuckin' gorgeous, baby. but i’m not really sure how i should use you. why don’t you touch yourself for me, huh? show me how you want me to play with you.”

you wasted no time and stuck two of your fingers into your mouth, getting them nice and slick. your panties were already soaked. you needed something, anything, to relieve the pressure between your thighs. yuta watched closely as your hand slid lower and lower, before they finally landed inside your panties.

you let out a soft moan when your fingers made contact with your sensitive clit. once you felt warmed up you slid one finger inside of you, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy. “fuck, that's it. make yourself feel real good for me.

you slid a second finger inside of you and spread your legs even wider. you wanted nothing more than to put on the best show possible for Yuta, making sure he saw everything. "can–can you play with me now? please sir?" you whined. Yuta stalked over to you and grabbed your chin firmly.

"since you're my little toy that means I own you, isn't that right baby?" you nodded your head frantically, loving how small he made you feel. "that's what I thought. now, you're gonna keep fucking yourself until I tell you to stop, got it?" Yuta's dark eyes never left yours as he let go of your chin. you sped up your movements as you watched Yuta strip himself of his clothes.

soon after, Yuta pulled your hand from your panties and examined your wet fingers. your chest was heaving due to how worked up you were. he shoved your fingers in your mouth and you moaned at the earthy taste of your arousal. "hands and knees. now." you wasted no time and flipped over. Yuta ran his hands over your plush ass, and landed a harsh smack on it, causing the sound to echo in the living room. you lurched forward at the impact, and Yuta grabbed your hips back into place.

"you're running already? this isn't even the fun part yet, baby." Yuta stroked himself to full hardness, and pulled your red panties over to the side, granting him full access to your dripping hole. Yuta leaned down right next to your ear. "ready, sweet pea?" you pushed your hips back into his, hoping the action would make him enter you already. "mmm yes please sir, I need you." Yuta grazed your earlobe with his teeth and gave you another smack on your ass, chuckling at the yelp you let out.

he slowly sank his member into you, letting out a deep, guttural groan. you arched your back even deeper, bracing yourself for the fucking Yuta was about to give you. he snapped his hips forward harshly, each trust earning a throaty moan from you. "goddamn baby, are all the little fucktoys in the north pole as good as you? this pussy is so fuckin' tight" Yuta gritted out. you smiled through his rough movements. you had almost forgotten about the little scenario you guys were participating in. his dick was hitting all the right spots, it was hard for you to even formulate thoughts.

"yeah? you like playing with me, sir?" you moaned out. Yuta's grip on your hips plus the deep angle he was hitting inside of you made you see stars. "fuck yeah, you're fucking dripping baby." Yuta abruptly halted his movements, causing you to whine out. he flipped you back over onto your back. the dimness of the room and the moody lighting of the christmas tree aided in the sexy ambience of the situation. Yuta put one of your legs onto his shoulder. he felt a cold piece of metal and he looked down at your ankle. it was adorned in a silver chain anklet with a 'Y' charm dangling from it. for Yuta.

you noticed him staring at the piece of jewelry. "do you like your other present, honey?" you asked with a sly smirk. Yuta mirrored your smirk and nibbled at your calf. you felt a shock of electricity run through your body. Yuta slid right back in and wasted no time pounding you roughly. "babyyyyy fuck" you moaned out, grabbing onto your bouncing breasts that spilled out of your bra. Yuta's athleticism never ceased to amaze you. he loved nothing more than to fuck you silly while you laid back and took it.

Yuta put his thumb to your bottom lip and smudged out your red lipstick. you sucked his thumb into your mouth and stared up into his eyes. "fuck baby, you're so fuckin' sexy. can't believe you're all mine." Yuta pulled his thumb from your warm mouth and grabbed your other leg, throwing it over his shoulder. you let out a loud, high pitched moan as he folded your body in half. he put his full weight into each thrust, amplifying the sound of your bodies colliding.

you were so close you could taste it. "sir? I'm–I'm gonna cum. can I please?" you whined out desperately. "go on baby, you've been such a good girl for me. go ahead, cum. now." that's all you needed to hear. your orgasm took over your entire body, causing you to throw your head back. you let out the sexiest moan Yuta ever heard come out of your mouth, and soon after, he came with a loud groan. he buried his face in your neck as he milked out the last few drops of cum.

Yuta finally stilled his hips. you both were panting, trying to catch your breaths after that steamy session. Yuta pulled out of you slowly, and you moaned softly, still sensitive from your high. you felt his warm cum drip out of you, but Yuta used two of his fingers to push it back into you. you jerked your hips at the unexpected action. yuta slapped your pussy playfully, "have I ever told you I love you?" you let out a belly laugh, sitting up to attack him with a big hug. "did you like my present baby?" you asked sincerely. Yuta pulled away from the hug and cupped your face gently with his hands. "like?? I'm pretty sure I just emptied like 7 generations worth of kids into you." your eyes widened and you felt a rush of heat fill your face. "you're a sicko!"

the end 🎁

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[sophsicle]

hello! hi! okay, so, i'd really like to have Mary's pov in the next chapter of kyd and i was wondering if perhaps there's anyone on here who is muslim and/or Lebanese and/or who wears a hijab who might be interested in being a sensitivity reader for me? obviously (or maybe not obviously?) Mary isn't exactly orthodox in her approach to her culture or religion and that's important to me but also for that reason i think i need to be especially careful to not have that come across as disrespectful. so i would love to have someone to workshop this pov with if anyone is willing? i've done some research and talked to some friends but writing is always a bit different so it would make me feel much better to have someone actually reading this and making sure that i'm going about this the right way? OKAY im gonna stop rambling now but feel free to shoot me a DM if you are interested!

[s-wave-entertainment]

Also, fuck it, a vague mention isn't enough (I will talk about Murder Drones: Eps. 5 and 7 here so just in case I have any new fans!):

For my main audience, I have an AU for you too! It is also still being workshopped, but it has a lot more structure than the TADC one does. Basically, I built a "What If?" scenario in which The Solver had kept its promise (ACTUALLY, DON'T GET INTO TECHNICALITIES WITH ME I KNOW THE LOOPHOLE I KNOW) and not discarded her. If she had survived the massacre and been left to fend for herself, until The Solver needed her again.

Tessa walked away from the massacre that night. Not okay in the slightest, but physically unharmed. She had no known relatives or family friends (that would be willing to take in a child, that is), so for a while JCJ housed her themselves in a cleared-out office room. This is when the researcher who rescued her that night, Dr. Lisa E Merit, decided "this is bullshit and this child needs Actual Help," and decided to adopt her herself - and actually pay for the counseling Tessa needed.

There was a drone involved eventually - who was originally Lisa's work assistant - named Mary. Lisa realized after a few days that Tessa didn't exactly do great all by herself in a house all day, so she eventually asked her to come home and assist her adopted daughter instead of assist her at work. Mary agreed (initially reluctantly as she had no idea how in the hell to interact with a kid), and her and Tessa became pretty fast friends.

I actually gave her a pretty good family, so you're welcome for not torturing her any more! ...That is until a few years down the line (Tessa is maybe 23, 24 when this happens) when the Solver appears In Her Apartment and basically tells her "Hey I'm gonna fuck this bitch up in three days, and you have those three days to decide if you wanna help me (and live) or not (and die). I've got a peace offering for you in case you're still mad about the whole 'killing your entire family' thing." And that peace offering is Serial Designation J, in her disassembly drone form.

Obviously, beyond J being her friend, I should explain a little more. Tessa, after she concluded her education, was easily recruited into JCJ. She didn't want to do this, but if she had any hope of finding the truth about what happened to her friends that night, she needed the company to help her do it. So basically Tessa is running her own operation under the JCJ name behind everyone's backs (except for Lisa, who knows about it and actively helps her). So there's that.

Anyway, this is why she took J as a peace offering but had her help hijack a ship and escape Earth before shit got fucked. The whereabouts of Lisa and Mary are unknown to me currently - I may have Tessa have taken them as well since in CANON she arrived with three ships, but at the moment they did not make it off the planet. I have a little content, mostly writing, but what do y'all want - should I drop it?

[socialoutsider1a]

Hugh Laurie’s 10 Best Movies & TV Shows, Ranked

By Ben Protheroe

Published Feb 15, 2024

Summary

Hugh Laurie's comedic sensibilities shine through in his deadpan expressions and impeccable timing, making him a comedic powerhouse.

Laurie's natural charisma allows him to play affable characters or charming rogues in dramatic roles, showcasing his versatility as an actor.

Laurie's most impressive skill is his ability to completely transform himself, abandoning his famous traits and disappearing into unexpected roles.

Hugh Laurie first established himself as a comedy actor, but he has also shown that he is a powerhouse performer in dramatic movies and TV shows. Laurie first rose to prominence alongside Stephen Fry, the other half of his popular double act. The duo starred in TV shows and movies together before developing successful careers on their own. Fry has become an author and a TV presenter as well as an actor, while Laurie has added more dramatic roles to his repertoire. Laurie is mostly known for his TV shows, but he has made some brilliant movies as well.

Hugh Laurie has acute comedic sensibilities, especially when playing the straight man. His deadpan expressions and trademark comic incredulity are among his best assets. However, he is also articulate and intelligent enough to make unusually verbose punch lines land without missing a beat. Laurie uses his natural charisma in dramatic roles to play a number of affable characters or charming rogues. What's perhaps most impressive about Laurie's acting skills is that he can abandon all of his most famous traits and disappear into unexpected roles.

10Peter's Friends (1992)

Roger Anderson

Peter's Friends is a somewhat forgotten comedy directed by Kenneth Branagh. Stephen Fry is the titular Peter, a man drifting through life who inherits a luxurious countryside manor and invites all of his old college friends back together for a New Year's Eve celebration. The old friends assemble from all over the globe, and their bright and shiny facades begin to crumble. Hugh Laurie plays Roger, a once-promising musician who sold out a long time ago to write advertising jingles. He's just one in a cast full of eccentrics, all of whom have a tenuous grip on reality.

9All The Light We Cannot See (2023)

Etienne LeBlanc

Based on the novel by Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See follows the lives of two teenagers caught on opposite sides of the Second World War. Marie-Laure is a blind French who uses her radio to broadcast messages of hope and resistance, and Werner Pfennig is a German soldier sympathetic to her cause but tasked with tracking her down. Hugh Laurie shines as Marie-Laure's great-uncle, a man with PTSD from the First World War who fights to overcome his condition to protect his family. All the Light We Cannot See delivers a powerful, uplifting message.

8Arthur Christmas (2011)

Steven Claus

Arthur Christmas is a festive adventure with a lot of heart and a lot of humor. Arthur is the son of Santa Claus, but he is forced to take on a delivery of his own after he discovers that one child didn't get their Christmas present. Hugh Laurie plays Steven, Arthur's business-minded older brother who wants to run Santa's workshop like a delivery warehouse or a military base. Arthur Christmas has all the charm usually associated with Aardman Animations, the studio most famous for claymation projects like Chicken Run and Wallace and Gromit.

7Jeeves & Wooster (1990-1993)

Bertie Wooster

Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie's TV adaptation crystallized two classic comic characters for an entire generation.

P.G. Wodehouse's "Jeeves" stories have been extremely popular in Britain for decades, and Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie's TV adaptation crystallized two classic comic characters for an entire generation. Hugh Laurie plays Bertie Wooster, a wealthy young man who is affable and optimistic but somewhat thick. Stephen Fry plays Jeeves, his intelligent valet with a sardonic wit. As Bertie tangles himself up in problem after problem, it's often down to Jeeves to extricate him from his troubles as painlessly as possible. Jeeves aims a couple of barbs at his employer, but he makes sure they sail over Bertie's head.

6The Night Manager (2016)

Richard Roper

The Night Manager pairs Hugh Laurie with Tom Hiddleston and Olivia Colman, and all three actors deliver brilliant performances. Laurie plays Richard Roper, an amoral, psychopathic arms dealer who is under investigation by the British Foreign Office. Hiddleston plays a hotelier in Cairo who is enlisted to infiltrate his inner circle. Based on the novel of the same name by John le Carré, The Night Manager is a suspenseful thrill ride with an ordinary man placed in extremely deadly situations. Hugh Laurie's performance as the villainous Roper is a great showcase for his talents as a dramatic actor.

5A Bit Of Fry & Laurie (1989-1995)

Various characters

Hugh Laurie's first TV show alongside his comedy partner Stephen Fry was the BBC sketch show A Bit of Fry and Laurie. Their deadpan British wit combines with absurdist Pythonesque sketches where Laurie typically plays the sarcastic straight man. Fry and Laurie's sketches often poke fun at the rigidity of British society by introducing elements of the surreal, and they frequently use innuendo and puns to spin ordinary situations into farce. A Bit of Fry and Laurie also gave Hugh Laurie a platform to demonstrate his talents as a musician with plenty of comedy songs on guitar or piano.

4Sense & Sensibility (1995)

Mr. Palmer

Sense and Sensibility is one of the best Jane Austen movie adaptations, starring and adapted by Emma Thompson. She plays Elinor Dashwood, one of three sisters who find themselves in dire financial straits and plot to find wealthy men to marry. Despite the jeopardy of this premise, Thompson's script captures Austen's dry wit and upbeat tone. Hugh Laurie plays a supporting role as Mr. Palmer, a comfortable member of high society whose privilege allows him to freely dispense erudite one-liners without needing to fear the repercussions. Laurie helps revitalize Austen's humor for the modern era.

3Veep (2012-2019)

Tom James

Laurie is one of very few actors in the show who can go toe-to-toe with Louis-Dreyfus in full comedic flow.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus is the star of Veep as the cynically ambitious career politician Selina Meyer, but she has an outstanding supporting cast to back her up. Veep's best seasons come after the show takes some time to assemble its funniest characters. Hugh Laurie plays Tom James, the charismatic senator who sucks all the attention away from Selina on the campaign trial, even though he is brought in as her running mate. Laurie is one of very few actors in the show who can go toe-to-toe with Louis-Dreyfus in full comedic flow.

2Blackadder (1983-1989)

Prince Ludwig the Indestructible, Prince George, Lt. The Hon. George Colthurst St. Barleigh, other minor characters

The BBC historical sitcom Blackadder hops to a new time period each season, starting in the Middle Ages and ending in the trenches of the First World War. Hugh Laurie plays a different character in each season, starting with one of the show's most cunning villains, Prince Ludwig the Indestructible, in season 2. His most memorable performances come after he joins the main cast as the upper-class twit, George. Prince George and Lieutenant George are both stupid but boundlessly optimistic, and they consistently rub Rowan Atkinson's Blackadder the wrong way.

1House (2004-2012)

Dr. Gregory House

House gave Hugh Laurie his most famous role, and he took it with both hands. The character of Gregory House is based on Sherlock Holmes. He has a genius-level intellect and remarkable powers of deduction, but he's misanthropic and he struggles with substance abuse. House's best episodes delve into obscure medical mysteries, as House and his team work around the clock to diagnose their patient. House's methods are unethical, and he often treats patients like puzzles rather than human beings, but his results speak for themselves. 20 years on, House is still an unbeatable medical drama.

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Hello stranger, I saw you asking about gen v supe names so I come bearing offerings:

For Marie, the best I've heard so far is Heartstring (which I think would work especially well if we're imagining vought's influence, and trying to push Marie as the new Starlight) I also like Heartstopper and Queen of Hearts, but I think those lean more towards villain names

For Emma, she could keep Cricket, but I like the idea of her picking something to do with her giant form, so: Giantess, or Colossa, or Titania

For Jordan, (now realistically vought would chew them up and give them the most cliche, cringy name possible, but ignoring that) my personal favorite is Pulse or Pulsar.

For Cate, I've seen Push as a good option, but I also like Siren, Whisper, or Piper (as in like the pied piper)

For Andre, I hate to say it but I think he'd just take up Polaris. Though I also think Magneta, (I know it sounds like magneto but TB universe doesn't know that) or Steel would work, I could also see Vulcan (the Roman god of metal) being cool but that might be too niche. (Metallo would be my first choice but it's been used sadly)

For Sam, tbh Sam's powers are pretty stock, so he could probably pick anything he wants. I could see him taking up something that follows the same format as his brother, so: _____ boy (ironically the first choice that I think would come to Sam's mind is superboy, but that is of course off limits, though personally, I'd find it hilarious) maybe Ultra Boy or Power Boy, or the Strong Man (who am I kidding these are all terrible, I've got nothing for Sam... Super Sam?)

Really though when you look at naming conventions (both in the boys and in superhero tradition overall) a lot of heroes' names don't have a ton to do with their powers and are either: highly generic (Superman, Mr. Fantastic, Captain Marvel, Wondee Woman etc) or have to do with a gimic that isn't necessarily related to their powers, so there's actually quite a bit of wiggle room, to just pick whatever sounds good.

Omggg these are great, I wanted to write an au set in the near future, where the cast had their superhero names so thank you for this if you would kindly allow me to steal these names for that purpose 👀👀

Heartstring is so good, it fits Marie so perfectly I gasped because yes exactly. I was thinking Emma should have a name change to kind of symbolise her regaining her autonomy from her mother with how she was forced to portray herself, I'm feeling Titania tbh. I really really like Pulse for Jordan simple effective love love love. Siren for Cate is insane cause not only does it encompass the nature of her powers but it also speaks to how she's used them, how she's lulled her friends into a false sense of security then caused them harm (wiped their memories) like yesssssssss. Ugh this is such a good listttt. Andre I think would change his name from the one he'd inherit from his dad, I was workshopping something like Silver Bandit, Heavy Metal or Ironclad (already in marvel lmao fml) or Steel Knight to pay homage to his rebel without a cause energy. I wanted just Steele but that's already a version of superman I think, John Irons I believe holds that mantle. I think even just Ultra would work as a name for Sam. Or maybe just The Boy like how Kimiko's The Female idk.

Thank you this is so helpful!!!!!

[thommy-events]

Something smutty this way comes...

It's the Autumn Thommy Smut Fest!

Before you is a list of kinks and a list of Downton Abbey series locations. Use these (or think of your own!) to write delicious smut as perfectly vanilla or as fabulously freaky as you wish!

Fancy an extra challenge?

Let your smutty creations take place in the most difficult place possible! Will they get caught?

The Rules:

You must be over 18 to take part in this event. Please no minors, and we will check!

We want works within the Thommy ship

You can write fanfic, draw, paint, create playlists, collages - any form of art that follows our autumnal, smutty theme!

If you post your work on Tumblr, tag your post with #AutumnThommySmutFest2023. If you write fic on AO3, add it to the AutumnThommySmutFest2023 Collection!

Creations must be posted on your chosen platform(s) between the 26th November and 2nd December!

If you would like to get ideas, chat about fic, and have Thommy-centric time, also feel free to join our server, Thommy Events Workshop!

Go wild, go forth, go smutty! We already can't wait to see what everyone gets up to 👀

(Below are the kink prompts and locations should the graphic above be unclear!)

KINKS:

Wrists tied

Begging

Gentle sex

Biting

Blindfolded

Praise

Discipline

Rough sex

Nipple play

Stuffing

Edging

Worship

Slapping / spanking

Butt plug

Voyeurism

Rimming

Public sex

Orgasm Denial

Cream pie

Fire / Ice play

Hair pulling

Whipping

LOCATIONS:

Servant's Hall

Carson's Chair

Corridor

Gallery

Servant's Bedroom

Wall in the servants' yard

Front Door

Boot Room

Library desk

Lady Mary's vanity

Kitchen

Bench under the tree

Single bed at the pub

Folly

Grand staircase

Tom Branson's car

Library bookshelves

Doctor Clarkson's surgery

The Lake

Servant yard crates

Farmer's field

Lord Grantham's dressing room

The piano