#something tangible i can complain about is the classes. i understand classes and abilities needed to be streamlined

[jubilost]

well so far i hate avowed. but that's okay, i love the first two games and they're still there. i'm kind of a haradass about things i love anyway, i'm still annoyed that deadfire decided meadow orlans have short hair all over their bodies instead of the original mottled gray skin they had. changes that seem unnecessary on their face bother me more than they probably should, i have a habit of taking things too seriously.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

And the Sunshine Shinin’

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Warnings: stripper!Tony, smut Notes: I used @modest-demon‘s artwork as inspiration for this one. If you want the full effect, take a peak at it here before you read through this :D Summary:

Tony Stark is a notorious stripper going by the name Iron Man. The further he gets into his career, the more behind the scenes he becomes until he's only working private jobs. Peter Parker hires Iron Man for MJ's bachelorette party and sexy stripper Tony Stark dances his little heart out. Little does Peter know that Tony Stark is Morgan Barnes-Rogers's Uncle Tony. Things get interesting when he walks with her into Peter's kindergarten class the morning after their strip club experience.

You can read it on AO3 here

Tony never thought he’d make stripping a career. In fact, he’d never stepped foot into a strip club until the first day of what would become a pretty damn good job for a long time. He’d been struggling since graduating from MIT – the prospect of joining good ole’ daddy dearest in his suits and executive bull shit made Tony’s stomach curl every single time he thought about it. Not only did he have a pretty subpar relationship with his father, he also wasn’t known for being able to sit still for long periods of time – and the executive side of Stark Industries did not include regular recess – he checked. Jumping from department to department wasn’t helping anyone. Tony regularly complained about how bored and restricted he felt, and his father was always going on about the lack of effort coming from his son. The prospect of turning 18 brought a lot of things with it, one of them being a complete sense of freedom.

When Steve, one of his buddies he’d met in college and then again through the Stark Industries internship program, mentioned what he did on the side for “fun” money, Tony was instantly intrigued. There weren’t a lot of people privy to the information, but he’d been taking formal dance lessons since his mom mistakenly put him in a ballet class at the ripe again of 6. The glaringly obvious opportunity in front of Tony’s face came with added benefit of pissing his father off if the man ever decided to track him down or find out what he did with his time. Who would have thought that a teenage act of rebellion could be something that was just so – right? That first night walking into the club, Tony felt more nervous than he ever did during a test at MIT or a presentation at his father’s company. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was the thing missing and he knew it right away. He’d been pretty sure of it putting his routine together earlier that afternoon – his feelings in that instant sealed the deal.

The guys are the door were thorough in their inquisition about his age and a couple different forms of ID had him in the door – the look shared between the man and Steve probably working in his favor, too. In all honesty, he probably only had one shot to make an impression at a place like the one they were in – the club obviously more upscale than some of the others out there. He followed Steve closely, the narrow hallway like something Tony never experienced before. It funneled down into what he quickly found to be a dressing room with men and women alike in various degrees of undress. It was an instant sensory overload – and he wondered how people ever got used to it. Though, thinking about it, he’d need to get over it pretty quickly. There were bound to be a pretty decent collection of humans on the other side of the door. Sucking in a breath, Tony squared his shoulders up and walked over to the empty space next to Steve.

“I didn’t work out a costume. You think there’d be something I could put on for tonight?” Tony asked Steve under his breath, his friend chuckling – a long finger pointing to a big closet in the corner. “You take it, you wash it. Just make sure you can move in it and get it off,” Steve replied steadily, his own pilot costume laid out on the bench in front of them. Tony nodded and made a straight beeline to the closet – there was a wide selection of the customary clichés, all things Tony figured he’d never be able to pull off. Digging into the stuff a little bit more, he found a black vest that was thick leather halfway until what he assumed would be mid-chest and the rest was solid strips of that same leather, like the billowing plastic pieces at the end of bike handles. He smirked and pulled the vest against his chest – the piece of music he’d dance to finally clicking into his head. The black leather chaps he found at the beginning of his search would go perfectly with the piece of main inspiration for the personality he planned to portray.

Getting the pants on, he felt confused by the suspenders attached to them, but went with it – they looked good down off of his shoulders and would create movement throughout his routine rather nicely. He slipped back into the shoes he decided to wear and took a look in the full-length mirror on the wall – his eyes bulging for a second at the sexy stranger he saw looking back at him. The outfit enhanced all the things Tony was looking to put on display and it gave him more of a darker vibe – something he wanted to make sure he projected, too. The air of mystery seemed to be half the fun of something like this – if he could keep people on their toes, how could they not come back for more? Running both hands through his hair, Tony ruffled the locks giving himself the fresh out of bed look. Hopefully his choices would have the desired effect and capture the audience’s attention. Though he’d never used a pole or danced in front of a crowd in a way meant to be titillating, Tony knew what it was like to desire attention and found many ways to acquire it over the years.

What more was taking your clothes off for someone other than the explicit and sometimes forceful demand for attention?

The steady thrum of nervousness stuck around and kept Tony in front of the mirror, the younger man watching himself move through the motions he’d been practicing – his natural ability to understand the beat of music would help him, but he wanted to be prepared. The last thing he wanted was to go out there and make a total ass of himself. He raptly watched the suspenders down by his hips fly through the air out of a turn and smiled – his outfit choice really was exactly what he was looking for.

He took a break from worrying to watch a bit of Steve’s dance from the side of the stage – the guy couldn’t really dance, but the firmness of his body and the boyish charm he used seemed to have the same effect. Watching an older lady put a five-dollar bill in the small waistband hiding under the plain black pants he started the routine in was one of the best experiences Tony could remember having and immediately eased all the lingering feelings of self-doubt. If dopey ass Steve Rogers could win over the old bitties – Tony would be way more than okay.

He watched with fascination as Steve came back into the locker room covered in sweat and fisting several bills in his hands – a black trash bag slung over his shoulder. Tony yearned to feel the tangibility of cash he got to shake his ass for and gladly gave up his music request to the sound guy a few minutes before stepping on stage himself. There was just enough time to give Rogers some shit before going out and doing the same damn thing.

“I thought that old lady was going to go for the whole package, Stevie – you got lucky,” Tony smirked, the shit talk falling seamlessly from his lips. Steve colored and smacked him on the bare shoulder, “It’s your turn next, Tony. They’re going to love you,” he felt the other man’s eyes trail over him for a second and then the glance was gone – the idea of it enough to add to the little bit of confidence he’d managed to acquire throughout the night waiting to perform.

Tony ran through the routine he’d put together in his mind a couple more times on his way up to the stage – he practiced a couple shimmies and then straightened himself up. With all of his costume in place, Tony waited impatiently for his time on the stage. Before stepping up, a guy with a microphone in his hand stopped him – his hand flat on the naked flesh of Tony’s stomach. He looked up surprised, the idea of being touched so candidly still something that was settling into the depths of his mind.

To make this work, he’d quickly need to get over it and as the fingers lingered for an extra second, Tony took a deep breath and pushed the gross feeling that threatened to overtake him away. “What’s your name, kid?” The guy asked now that he’d successfully gotten Tony’s attention. “Tony,” he said back to him quickly. The man smirked and shook his head. “What’s your stage name?” Tony felt a flush of embarrassment run through him, but quickly got his shit together – the perfect name coming to the forefront of his mind almost instantly.

“I’m Iron Man,” Tony said with confidence, his eyes wide with excitement.

The announcer made up some bull shit about Tony’s backstory while he got himself set up on the middle of the stage – the lights still low. He gave the opening music a couple seconds to play before he stepped forward and started to roll his hips – the sweet beats of Ginuwine the soundtrack to a life changing experience.

Needless to say, Tony truly found himself on the stage that night – his black trash bag full of money a true motivator. The subtle fuck you he said to all the people who didn’t give a shit about him a fabulous consolation prize.

----

The brilliance of that night was almost twenty years ago. Just like Tony figured, the costume idea and stage name went off like a rocket – his career bloomed so quickly that he didn’t have a chance to think about his father’s disappointment or the untimely death of his mother only a couple weeks after that first dance. The more time he spent on the stage, the more people seemed to like him. With his structured dance background and ability to be shameless, Tony easily understood just how right the business was for him. After that initial time up on the stage, Tony got his feet under him and started to dance more and more throughout the night. Instead of going once an hour, he went twice – and when someone was missing for the night, or not getting as much in the way of tips like the rest of them, Tony filled in there, too. It was easy to see that his mysterious persona and crazy moves on the pole were crowd favorites. Who would have thought being able to move his hips and look good almost naked would make a name for him?

Things stayed that way for a while, too. Tony left his engineering background behind and focused completely on dancing. And since he had such a following, the club he danced in let him use the poles and dance floor space whenever he wanted. The routines and moves changed, but Tony kept with his signature style. The main addition that stuck with the rest of his get up was a felt cowboy hat. He used it often to keep the brim low over his eyes – the inability to see his stare always seemed to do the trick. When he’d slide down onto his knees and pull the hat off of his head, the crowd went crazy. For most of his performances, Tony kept that air of mystery about him and only let the crowd get a glimpse of anything other than his swaying hips and tight ass once or twice per dance. On top of that, he spent a good amount of time on the pole throughout his dances – the only thing a spectator could really see was the way he spun, or the tightness of his legs when he’d slide down with no hands and only the muscles in his thighs to stop him.

About ten years into his career, Tony got offered an opportunity to move to a new club with a few of the guys he’d been dancing with for a while. Between him and Steve – Fury’s did really well, and though they made the club more money than it ever made before, their cuts of the take were not going up in the same way. It never bothered Tony much, he took in enough on his own to make at least a thousand dollars any of the nights he danced. Yet, he couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to take a place from the ground floor up. He owed Nick Fury a whole lot for initially taking a chance on young Tony Stark – however, he owed himself a lot more and the move to Marvel’s Finest was the easiest decision Tony could remember making since stepping on the stage for the first time. Aside from dancing, Tony and Steve spent a good bit of time recruiting other dancers and after a couple years of making the club a success – Tony started to take his turn behind the microphone as an MC.

For about thirteen years, Tony appreciated the stripping life for all that it was. The parties, the ability to make a whole month’s worth of money in one night, even the drugs every now and again. It was easy to let the years pass by in a haze of dance routines and pot-induced binges. He liked the notoriety of being Iron Man and for a long while, that was enough. Things started to change when Steve met Bucky and all of the people around him were suddenly starting to settle down. His friend still danced of course – one couldn’t give up primetime floor spots on Friday and Saturday nights, but he was also starting to move his work life away from the club. Though he’d never admit it, Tony felt a little jealous anytime he saw the two of them together and felt like an old fuck when he was around some of the younger dancers that were getting the easy attention of the crowd like he used to. People came specifically to see Tony these days – he wasn’t pulling the wild and spontaneous crowds the way the younger guys were. And all of the sudden, dancing wasn’t enough.

Of course, he’d been a college graduate since the prime age of 15 – he had a mechanical engineering degree under his belt, one from MIT of all places. If he wanted, he could walk back into Stark Industries, which was still being run by his stingy, asshole of a father, and get his job back. The idea of it popped into his head a few times but then he always remembered how miserable he’d been there, how boring the humdrum of day to day shit was in a stuffy situation like cooperate America. The entire reason he’d escaped to dancing in the first place was to get away from that situation – no, that wouldn’t work. No, instead of heading back into the fire of being a businessperson, Tony wanted something with creative freedom, something that would allow him to do what he wanted when he wanted.

The perfect opportunity fell into his hands when he spent a random afternoon with Bucky, the man a perfect mixture of old fashioned and hippy. His creative spirit always had Steve out at art shows or taking in theater – in all the time Tony knew the guy, he never thought to picture Steve Rogers in an opera house. He seemed smitten, though, so Tony went out of his way to get to know the guy – to create a relationship with him that could withstand Steve keeping Bucky in his life. The first few times were a little weird, kind of awkward – Tony wasn’t the easiest to get along with and Bucky’s personality threw the man for a loop. The more time Tony spent with him though, the more Tony understood why he was perfect for Steve and the more he realized just how cool the guy actually was.

They were out hiking at one of the remote locations the group found earlier that summer, enjoying the bright sunshine and absence of other humans. Tony watched with curious eyes as Bucky pulled a camera from his bag and started to take pictures of everything around him. He’d seen the man’s disposables before, but this thing was nice – a fully functional film camera with a wide digital display. He looked over the man’s shoulder while he showed him a couple of the functions. “Do you want to try it?” Bucky asked, his hand already in the process of handing the thing over to Tony before he could even respond. He nodded anyway and eagerly accepted the camera, the tech part of his brain already trying to categorize all the different parts and pieces. He didn’t take a picture for a while and simply studied the tech in his hands. Knowing how it worked always helped Tony make the most of those functions. Fiddling with it, he happened to glance up and see Bucky staring out into the distance. Without much thought, Tony brought the camera up and glanced down the viewfinder – he fiddled with the focus slightly and pressed his finger against the button, the snap of the shudder oddly satisfying.

A couple of weeks later, Tony was practicing a new routine in the gym and dance space he converted the garage of the house into. The garage door was wide open, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when he finally noticed the presence of another human. He’d been balls deep in step counts and music timing to even notice Steve – his friend was leaned against the open wall watching him when Tony came to. “What the fuck, Rogers?” Tony asked, the man grabbing the towel he’d thrown against the chair he kept around to toss himself into when he needed a break and wiping his brow. The taller man smiled and pointed at the open door. “If you didn’t want someone to come in, you shouldn’t keep the door wide open. Besides, I needed to show you this,” Steve unfolded his arms and revealed the brown envelope he’d been holding in his hand. “Bucky was showing me the prints from your hike a few weeks ago and when he showed me this one, I had to catch my breath.” Finally, he let the envelope out of his hand, Tony’s sweaty fingers fumbling with it. He pulled the photo of Bucky he sneakily snapped out and glanced at it – he looked lost in thought, a soft smile on his lips pulling the whole thing together.

“This is the best picture I’ve ever seen, Tony,” Steve said after a couple minutes of silence. Tony blinked back from his observation and tilted his head. “Thanks, Cap. Now tell me why you needed to interrupt rehearsal to tell me that,” Tony snapped back, his eyes still focused on the really good picture in his grasp. He knew exactly what the other man was alluding to. The idea of crafting his own camera and getting really good behind it had passed through his mind multiple times since he realized how cool the science behind photography really was. Maybe a push in that direction would be enough to motivate him – to convince him of the worth of the knowledge in his head. He got his wish – Stevie boy never missing the opportunity to impart wisdom upon him.

“You’ve been looking for something to do. I think you found it. The dance company Bucky’s niece dances at is looking for an in-house photographer. Do your smart kid thing, practice a little, and see if maybe you like seeing dance from a different perspective. It might keep you busy,” Steve motioned for the picture back as he spoke, his hands a little reverent as he put it back into the envelope for safe keeping. “Think about it,” he spoke again, Steve’s free hand patting Tony’s shoulder lightly. Watching him wipe his hand off against his jeans was the right amount of satisfaction – the man’s words fresh in Tony’s ears when he turned back to the open floor and started going through the motions of the routine again.

The start of that new adventure was slow going. Tony decided that if he was going to get into the business, he wanted to have a piece of technology that he knew would do the work he wanted it to do. He got the same model as Bucky’s and made a bunch of custom adjustments to it – both in its programming and the structure. The camera body’s ability to have several different lenses attached to it brought even more ideas for adjustments to be made. By the time he felt satisfied he’d spent more time screwing around with the camera than actually using the damn thing. Tony spent an annoying amount of time snapping away during rehearsals and whatever photos he could get of Steve working or him and Bucky interacting together. Tony knew the easiest way to get good at something was to practice, so he did. Little by little, he felt himself find a level of comfort behind the camera – to the point where he wanted to be there more often times than not.

The job with the dance academy opened a ton of doorways for Tony and after a couple years, he felt good enough about the steadiness of work that he could deem the business he put together successful. T. Stark Photography – the business cards he passed out were sleek and mysterious, just how Tony liked it. It felt good to be known by others in a way that didn’t include him taking off his clothes and dancing to rocky-stripper beats. The more he got into the photography world, including modifying cameras and mastering all of the Adobe Photo products, the further he allowed himself to stray from the stripping world. He started to do more MC work and when he did dance, it was for private parties and small groups at Marvel’s Finest. With all of the changes, Tony could finally say he felt pretty good about his life and himself. There was enough money coming in to keep him in the nice house he’d built from the ground up and freedom to do what he wanted, when he wanted.

Which is why Tony found himself taking a stripping job for the first time in a while – the guy on the phone sounding very enthusiastic and eager, the combination of which was very hard for Tony to turn down. He made the appointment and scheduled his remaining photo gigs for the month around the private dance at Marvel’s Finest for a Michelle Jones’s bachelorette party. The thing that really made him smile was the fact that the person on the other side of the phone was looking for Iron Man specifically – not just the dancer Tony Stark. He’d been much more open about who he was the more time he spent behind the microphone instead of on the stage. Only some of the older people who saw Tony dance in his younger years still knew him as Iron Man. Well, he’d also done a magazine spread in Play Girl once – but that was years ago, too.

The night of the party ended up on a Thursday, which worked out perfectly for Tony. Steve and Bucky tied the knot about a year after Tony’s photography journey started. It was the very first wedding Tony shot and still his very favorite. There are still several of the prints from it littered around his in-home studio. A year after that, they adopted a baby girl named Morgan – and Tony immediately fell in love with her. They gave him the privilege of being Uncle Tony and ever since she was big enough, he took care of her on Friday’s. The girl was now 5 years old and one of the coolest people he’d ever known. He got to take her to school for the first time, too – so Tony found himself excited most of the day Thursday. For the first time in a while, he was ready to dance and have fun with people that were obvious fans of his “work”. Then, he’d start the weekend off with one of his favorite humans on the planet. The chocolate chips for their traditional Friday night pancakes were on his counter, waiting eagerly to be consumed.

A few minutes before he was set to perform, Tony found himself with his phone in his hand, the song selections for the night still in limbo. He could do any of his performances to most of the songs he had in mind – he’d been dancing long enough to piece together when a hip roll would look good where. Yet, he himself found going back towards some of his old stuff, Kid Rock’s Cowboy popping up way too often to be ignored. The song entitled lots of work on the bar and lots of time with only his vest and the small black pair of briefs on – but he figured that’d be perfect for a bunch of women (and a couple of guys) eager to have a little time with Iron Man. With that settled, Tony went back into the locker room to grab his purple felt hat – tonight he was rocking dark tear-away jeans that fit all of his contours in all of the right ways. His black vest was reminiscent of the one he wore that first night and thick black boots finished the look, the laces tied just enough to give him support and the ability to move.

A spark of excitement went through him when he settled into the open space of the dance floor, the music starting to loud applause of the people at the end of the stage. He tipped the hat over his eyes and started to move, his hips swinging, his steps long filled with a couple of spins and full body rolls – his eyes intent on the pole right around the time the song got close to the first chorus.

Buy an old drop-top find a spot to pimp And I'mma Kid Rock it up and down ya' block With a bottle of scotch and watch lots a crotch Buy a yacht with a flag sayin' "Chillin' the Most"

His back hit the pole at the end of the beat, and he climbed his way up it – the man glad that he still had his jeans on for this move. Tony let his hands drop and he spun down to the space right before the floor, the clench of his thighs stopping him. He used the strength in his back to flip him over and back onto his feet – the last couple of beats hitting with the sway of his lips before the dance really started.

Cowboy, baby! With the top let back and the sunshine shinin' Cowboy, baby!

Tony pushed himself to his knees and felt himself sliding towards the crowd, one hand bringing the hat from his head and the other slipping down by his boot, his abs and crotch on display with the thrust of his hips when the friction inevitably slowed him down. There were bills thrown on the dance floor around him, but Tony didn’t pay any attention – his eyes suddenly drawn to a younger man with bright eyes that were peeled on him, his hair long and a little curly, a few of the locks at the side of his neck curling against the skin there.

He flawlessly brought himself back to his feet and used the next few hard hits of the bass to get himself into a position to tear his pants off – the black briefs he chose having the desired effect he predicted, the applause for once actually driving him on. Tony made is his way across the stage to all the different groups of women, his back to them, wiggling his ass, or his chest and abs on display for the hands that were grabbier than he usually allowed. The man was standing in the cluster of people gathered around the bride – so he saved them for last. His closeout moves were some of his best and by the end of the song, he was freely shaking his ass in their direction – the smallest amount of hope that those doe eyes were still so transfixed upon him making the moves a little extra.  

The end of the song came before anyone was ready for it and Tony was quickly gathering the vest that was within reach to get off the stage. Whoever was prepping the stage for the next dance would get the remainder of his stuff and collect whatever tips that came from the dance not currently tucked into the waistband of his underpants. Tony felt a faint smile on his lips from the amount of fun that’d been and finally understood what balance actually was. Shaking his head, he went through the process of getting dressed – which included pulling bills from his underwear and trying to get the little bit of glitter he put on his body earlier off. His skin was still slick from sweating for 5 minutes straight, so a shower was the only way to really clean himself up and that would have to wait until later. Now that his job was done and his money was collected, Tony snuck out of the back door of the club – the call of his pillow louder than any thought of staying out and enjoying a night with a partying crowd.

Morning came fast and not for the first time, Tony felt grateful for the little bit of responsibility he learned over the years. There were so many nights when sleep would claim him not long before he needed to be up for something or another. It only took slowing down a bit to realize how nice it was to actually get a good night’s sleep. He got himself up and through the few things he needed to do in the morning, the excitement of seeing his little punk picking the pace of the activities up a little bit.

With little effort, Tony got himself into his car and headed towards Steve and Bucky’s place. It seemed like they liked Tony Friday’s just as much as Morgan did – they greeted him very cheerfully and told him of their plans to simply enjoy the evening at home together. Everyone got a hug before Tony was buckling the little girl into the booster he kept in his backseat for this very occasion. She’d been babbling about something or another since he got there, and he felt content to let her talk while he got her to school on time. Before he left, Bucky insisted on him going in and meeting the teacher – he wanted to make sure the guy knew who it was picking Morgan up later.

It was pretty funny how things worked out. Tony couldn’t help the laugh that left his lips when he recognized those doe eyes from the club the night before – the pink blush the exact same, too. The sputtering was cute – he couldn’t deny that. Morgan looked at him curiously for a second before she was distracted by another kid running by her. The girl gave his leg a hug and ran off – leaving the two adults to their own devices.

Not wanting to make the moment awkward, Tony stuck out a hand between them. “I’m Tony. Or Uncle Tony, if you listen to Morgan. Nice to meet you,” Tony spoke confidently, his words trying to say all the things he couldn’t in the current situation – ‘don’t freak out’, ‘I’m just an average guy’,’ you’re so fucking cute’ – all of those things. The man thankfully extended his own hand and grabbed Tony’s, the touch of their palms like an electric shock.

----

Peter couldn’t explain the amount of excitement he was still feeling after MJ’s bachelorette party. When she asked him to plan it, he knew Marvel’s Finest was the best place to take them. Even if MJ decided to take it as a joke, Peter felt obligated to make sure all of the people he invited to join them would enjoy the show, nonetheless. If he decided to book Iron Man for his own pleasure, no one really needed to know that. He could still remember the way that Play Girl opened up to the Iron Man spread – the pages so well used. By the time Peter was old enough to actually enjoy anything like a strip club, the notorious Iron Man wasn’t dancing nearly as much, usually only for private type events.

When the opportunity presented itself, Peter decided to take advantage of it. And boy was it the best abuse of friend power he’d ever experienced. The whole look immediately made Peter hot, his skin on fire. The music selection was perfect for the performance the man decided to put on, and oh – those black briefs. It shouldn’t be legal for people to look that good. The physical manifestation of his attraction was within his grin and if he thought too hard about it – he might have thought the man was looking right back at him.

It shocked the absolute hell out of him when the very star of his fantasy later that evening walked through the doors of his classroom – Morgan Barnes-Rogers in tow. His jaw fell from its tucked position, the muscles surrounding it the only thing keeping it from hitting the ground. In this setting, he could see the man’s salt and pepper hair, his brows arched in recognition. Peter collected himself in time to smile at Morgan before she ran past him and into the writhing mass of kids collected on the play mat.

He was a little surprised when the man stuck a hand out between them an introduced himself. Peter took another second to collect himself before reaching out and grabbing onto it, their palms flashing warm on contact. His fingers gripped the others, the touch probably going on for just a little bit too long. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker. I can’t um – it’s nice to meet you, too,” his words felt a little choked, like he couldn’t quite get them out – but the man’s returning smile gave him courage.

“Bucky said to come in and introduce myself, so here I am. I’ll be picking Morgan up later today, too.” Tony kept the smile on his lips and Peter felt his stomach clench at the sight – the other man’s hand was in his hair and the stretch of his t-shirt revealed the slightest hint of that torso that’d been on display less than twelve hours earlier. His cheeks felt so hot and he forced himself to grin – the idiocy of it probably radiating from his expression. “Sounds good, I’ll be sure to look for you, then. Nice performance by the way,” Peter got the words out quickly, the mortifying feeling of wanting to die fleeting once they were off his tongue. The other’s eyes flashed with something akin to amusement and he saw the man’s grin broaden – the crinkle of his eyes so fucking charming. “Thanks, Peter Parker. See you later,” Tony replied, the man giving him a wink before casually strolling out of the classroom.

The rest of the day, Peter tried his hardest to focus on the young children looking to him to teach them things – he truly did. Luckily, they were slowly working their way through the vowels and were focusing on the letter ‘e’ today – so there were many worksheets that required lots of coloring and minimal teaching on Peter’s part. He kept a close eye on Morgan and wondered just what the back story there was. They weren’t too far into the school year yet, but he knew both her parents from the parent-teacher meet and greet earlier in the year. Until this point, he’d never seen the illustrious Uncle Tony, though the girl did talk about him often. What were the chances that Peter’s walking wet dream was also a tender-hearted man attached to one of the most spirited children he’d ever encountered? Life was weird in the way it threw people into other’s paths. Shaking the thoughts from his head, Peter managed to make it to lunch without thinking about it again.

Sitting down, Peter immediately felt relief when he saw MJ in her usual spot across the table. “Iron Man is Morgan Barnes-Rogers’s Uncle. He’s just as handsome in person, and he’s coming back later on to pick her up. I might have alluded to making sure I kept a lookout for him, I’ll probably see him again. What the hell, MJ?” Peter blabbed all of this at once, his hands successfully pulling apart the brown paper bag his sandwich was currently in. Her soft hands grabbed his, his fingers coming easily off with the slightest of pressure.

“That’s the stripper from last night, right? The one who made me go home and download a Kid Rock song?” MJ questioned, her fingers loosening to have her hands back to pick at the food in her own lunch. “That very one. Is it cliché to want to spend time with the man who I paid to take off his clothes for us? Or am I overthinking this?” Peter’s question seemed valid, but the laugh MJ couldn’t keep in made his face color. “Pete, you’re an idiot. If you hit it off with the guy, does it really matter?”

Peter thought about that question for the last couple of hours of the school day – his mind never moving away from the fact that no, it didn’t matter. He himself had lots of hidden parts to himself – people would never believe the guy that taught their children graduated with a degree in biochemical engineering before thinking about elementary education. Every person was composed of parts and pieces. Though, some parts were a little bit nicer than others. Biting the edge of his thumb, Peter toiled with the idea until there was no time left and he was ushering all the kids to the drop off/pick up point. Like he said, Tony was there waiting, his eyes lighting up when the little girl came into view. He watched Morgan launch herself into his arms and knew in that instant that he was going to let whatever happened – happen.

Tony approached him a minute or so later, Morgan tucked carefully in his arms. “Thanks for taking care of her. She said you guys did ‘e’ for elephant today,” Tony started, a soft smile on his face. The little girl kept herself tucked against the older man, so Peter didn’t mind talking back and forth. “We did. We also learned that elephants are gray. I’m not sure if you knew that, or not.” Peter bit into his lip and felt blush overtake his cheeks.

“How do you feel about coffee?” Peter asked next, the words tumbling from his lips in a fashion that spoke of reckless abandon – like if he didn’t get them out that instant, he never would. The other’s brown eyes caught his and they exchanged a look – the same connection rushing through him like when their palms touched earlier. He watched Tony nod and reach into his pocket. “I like it. Shoot me a text sometime, let’s go for a cup.” His smile was wide and genuine – the card he took from him still warm from the man’s touch.

The card felt heavy in his pocket, the burn of it like a constant reminder of something Peter couldn’t quite name yet. He forced himself to keep it there until he got the classroom put back together and himself home – there were social standards that needed to be kept, after all. They didn’t do too much moving around in class, so the clean-up wasn’t too complicated. There just wasn’t anything to keep his mind away from the thought of what Tony Stark accepting his invitation for coffee actually meant. Whatever it was, Peter planned to make the most of the encounter – simply because he felt determined to understand the man, not just the nude skin he could still remember very, very, very vividly. He quickly shook his head and got his things together – the faster he got home, the faster he’d be able to give into his impulses. There was only so much self-control a guy can have. It didn’t hurt, either, that he only lived a few minutes from the school. Nope, it didn’t hurt one bit.

The first thing he usually did when he got home was change out of his work clothes – the stuffy shirts were nice and all, but there was nothing better than a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. This time, however, he pulled the card from his pocket and took a good look at it. Though he didn’t expect to see the man advertising his stripping career on business cards, Peter was surprised to find that Tony Stark owned a photography business. After a quick check on Instagram, he found out that said photography business was very successful. He spent a bit of time looking at all the different shots, his idea of the man already changing.

There was so much detail in every single picture the man posted – each photo contained so much soul. One of the most recent posts was of the little girl in his class – clicking on it, he noticed the crown on her head and a big five on the cake. She was smiling and looking directly at the camera, a small bit of frosting in the corner of her mouth. It made him feel a little funny, how much of her personality Tony managed to capture in one snapshot of time. More determined than ever, he typed the number on the card into his phone and sent off a couple of messages.

Peter Parker [7:01PM]: Hey, this is Peter Parker. Peter Parker [7:02PM]: Your snazzy business card told me you’re a photographer, so I stalked your insta – you’re really talented, Tony.

Satisfied, Peter put the phone down and went about changing – finally content a few minutes later when he settled onto the couch with his phone in his hand and Stranger Things on the tv. Soon, there was Thai food on the way – the true beginnings of a great night. And it got a little better when he felt his phone buzz a little while later. Looking at the messages, he felt himself smile.

Tony Stark [8:05PM]: Hi, Peter Parker. Tony Stark [8:06PM]: Such praise, many thanks. I enjoy being behind the camera very much. Tony Stark [8:07PM]: Is teaching your one true love, or do you have something else up your sleeve?

Sucking in a breath, he felt something shift inside him. Of course, that would be the first question this mysterious man fired off – the one thing Peter kept close to himself. For whatever reason, he couldn’t get his foot in the door with any of the tech businesses after graduation – so his retreat was very quick, and he changed gears to satisfy the need to have a job and take care of himself. Elementary education fell into his lap when MJ suggested it during one of their many get togethers. He flew through the master’s program and came out on the other side a certified teacher. It didn’t fuel his fire or get him excited – but it paid the bills and kept a roof over his head. All things that were essential after losing the last piece of his family halfway through his freshman year of college. The fact that Tony hit the nail on the head with the first question made his heart race.

Peter Parker [8:10PM]: You can tell. Your stuff really is amazing. Peter Parker [8:11PM]: I actually have a degree in Biochemical Engineering. At one point in time, I wanted to work on tech. Peter Parker [8:13PM]: What are you two up to this evening?

Tony Stark [8:20PM]: Biochemical Engineering, huh? We’ll have to nerd out during this coffee date we’re having. I graduated from MIT with a degree in Mechanical Engineering. Tony Stark [8:22PM]: We made chocolate chip pancakes and now I’m hoping she slips into a food coma so I can get some editing done. What about you? What does Mr. Parker do on a Friday night?

Peter Parker [8:35PM]: It sounds like you have an interesting past, Tony. What was MIT like? Peter Parker [8:36PM]: Chocolate chip pancakes? Color me jealous. Mr. Parker watches Stranger Things and eats too much Thai food. Interesting stuff, I know. Peter Parker [8:38PM]: Will you have Morgan tomorrow? Or can I interest you in brunch with your coffee?

Tony Stark [8:55PM]: I do – it’s very colorful. Maybe I’ll tell you about it someday. It was full of too many classes every semester and lots of burns from the welding torch. I graduated really young and very fast – so I didn’t do much MIT living. Tony Stark [8:56PM]: There are many interesting things about that. Such as: what did you order? And – what season are you watching? Tony Stark [8:59PM]: Little Squirt returns to her parents bright and early. They get to deal with her grumpiness after the sugar crash. I’d love to do brunch.

Things continued in that easy manner between the two of them well into the night. He got a video of Morgan saying goodnight with the low pitch of Tony’s voice in the background instructing her on what to say. Then when she went to bed, they got into a more in-depth conversation about some of the cool theories the Duffy Brothers used to write the show and a few of the cooler projects Tony worked on throughout college. Peter didn’t even think to broach the topic of stripping and thoroughly enjoyed the entire exchange. When he looked up at saw that it was well past 1AM, Peter shook his head and pulled himself off the couch. He’d gotten through most of the second season and couldn’t remember much of it at all. That was a satisfying feeling – being so wrapped up in another person like that. They exchanged another couple of texts before Peter got himself into bed and snuggled under the covers.

Peter Parker [1:21AM]: I’m going to sack out. It was nice talking to you, Tony. Have a good rest of the night!

Tony Stark [1:30PM]: The pleasure was mine, Peter Parker. Sleep well.

It didn’t take long for sleep to pull Peter under and when it did, he felt a little floaty right before losing consciousness. His last conscious thought was how nice it was to really smile for the first time in a long time.

----  

There weren’t a lot of things more intimidating than going out with a human that spent years making a living from how attractive they were. Peter understood that it didn’t define who Tony was – but that didn’t change the fact that the older man had a confidence that Peter couldn’t even think about touching. A little bit of the morning was spent dwelling over how out of his league Tony was and the rest of it, Peter spent in his closet trying to decide what to wear. There was an immediate relief felt in getting out the door.

He assumed most of his nerves were coming from the fact that he’d thoroughly enjoyed their conversation last night and he could easily see himself getting in way too deep way too fast. The survival mechanism of trying to talk himself out of things was a little absurd – but he managed to overcome it and dress relatively well. He glanced down at the blue baseball shirt and dark jean combination he inevitably ended up in. The idea to feel comfortable settled in when he saw the shirt and no matter what else he found that he knew he looked good in – Peter went back to the same shirt every time.

The café he told Tony to meet him at was within walking distance, so he took the opportunity to work off a little of the excess nerves on the walk over. In all of his twenty-five years, Peter never imagined he’d be so hyped up for a date. He’d never felt this way before – like he couldn’t control himself, like things were out of his hands and he was running totally on instinct. Peter felt a little more like himself by the time he got to the café, a smile on his lips at the thought that though he was nervous, he’d get to spend some time with the person he was quickly becoming very interested in. His eyes scanned all around the shop until they settled on the recognizable disarray of hair – Tony’s bedhead one of the things that caught Peter’s eye right away both on the stage and in the classroom. Quickening his pace, Peter made it to the table in a couple of strides, the smile on his face growing a little wider. “Howdy, Cowboy,” Peter said, the tone of his voice laced with sarcasm and joking – he hoped the words were welcoming and just on the right side of teasing.

Tony’s smile just about blew him backwards, the words’ effect a lot better than he could have hoped for. There was the slightest bit of blush on the older man’s cheeks – the color not nearly as beet red as what Peter knew took over his own face. Sitting down across from him, Peter relaxed into the chair and put all his focus on the man before him.. “Hey, Teach. You look bright and bubbly this morning,” Tony remarked, his body turning more towards Peter, too – their eyes locking for a minute. There was heat and curiosity in the shared gaze. There were a lot of things between them – that much was obvious. Most people didn’t engage in several hours’ worth of conversation if they were repulsed by the other person. Peter knew there was attraction, especially on his part. There were too many times of getting himself off to the photos of Tony and more recently, the vision of the other man up on the stage doing what he was obviously so good at. The probing nature of the other’s glance spoke of lust, but Peter wasn’t quite sure and hoped to find out throughout the rest of the conversation.

“Just wait until I have my coffee,” he said jokingly, his hands fiddling with the wrapped-up package of silverware on the table. “Did you and Morgan have a good time together last night? I have to admit, your chocolate chip pancakes served as motivation for brunch today. Rosetta’s has the best overstuffed pancakes,” Peter didn’t try to filter himself – their conversation last night consisted of anything and everything. It didn’t make any sense to not continue that trend now that they were together in person. He watched Tony’s face break into an even bigger smile and tried in vain to remember the sound of the older man’s chuckle. Oh, how he wished to hear that sound all the time.

“Time with Morgan is always the best. We watched The Princess and The Frog, and the rest was history. I think I told you about everything else last night. I honestly can’t remember the last time I spent that much time texting someone else. Steve still has to call every time he wants to say anything – I’ve gotten used to his old guy tendencies,” Tony remarked, his hands thumbing with the menu on the table – though he didn’t open it.

Things stayed pretty light and easy between them, they ordered the promised coffee with an omelet for Tony and bananas fosters pancakes for Peter. They chatted a bit more about Tony’s first robot creation Dum-E and Peter’s foray into teaching. Tony was easy to talk to and Peter absolutely acknowledged that him being easy on the eyes contributed to how much he felt himself paying attention to the man across from him.

He wouldn’t change that for a second, though – all the things he was learning about Tony made him want to keep on listening. Of course, there were parts of him that just wanted to jump across the table and forcefully take Tony’s lips in a kiss, but those urges were a little easier to control. What he couldn’t seem to get a grip on was the brightness of his smile and the blush that would not stop traveling further and further down his chest.

Somewhere in there many topics, Tony’s stripping finally came up. “How did you end up becoming Uncle Tony, anyway? It’s obvious that Morgan adores you – you must have known her most of her life,” Peter said absentmindedly, his mind putting together all of the pieces he currently held in his hand. “I’ve known Steve and Bucky the entire time they’ve been together. I was one of the first people they told when they found out they got cleared to adopt Morgan. Steve was my college roommate. He got an internship at my father’s company, Stark Industries – though he lasted about as long as I did there. He got me my first stripping gig. It made total sense to make me Uncle Tony when the little one came. They need at least one bad influence that isn’t a direct parent,” Tony replied softly, a laugh stuck in the tangle of his words. The thing that got Peter the most wasn’t the casual way he talked about his stripping, but the starry-eyed look he got in his eye talking about Morgan and her family. They were obviously special people to the older man across from him. Peter shook his head and focused on the things he’d just been told. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I never knew I needed to thank Mr. Rogers for the special gift that Iron Man brought to the world.”

The purely genuine laugh that surrounded Peter in response made his heart clench, the feelings he’d been trying to hold back all evening finally overwhelming him. Peter joined in and felt the oxygen quickly leave his lungs in the flurry of it all. “So you were the one that booked that dance. When I left, I spent a lot of time wondering who in the crowd could have known me – you’re all a little young to have been around during the busy time of my career. The peak of Iron Man’s,” Tony mumbled with a shake of his head.

“I am and I will gladly own up to being the person interested in seeing you dance. I’ve wanted to ever since I saw your spread in Play Girl – but I was never old enough. MJ gave me the reins of her bachelorette party and well, you know the rest.” Peter thought he’d feel embarrassed admitting something so honest like that – but he felt a sense of power overcome him. Maybe now wasn’t too bad of a time to start going after the things he wanted. If all the things the older man taught him in their brief exchanges, it was that being confident and going after things was the only way to get shit done.

Tony didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, the older man busying himself with finishing off the espresso in his cup and resettling into the back of the chair. His mouth felt a little dry watching Tony stretch the time out, the man obvious in his actions. When their eyes eventually caught – Peter felt a hitch in his breath. The slight heat he’d noticed earlier was now scorching, overtaking Tony’s pupil without leaving much of the beautiful, chocolate brown iris behind. “I think that’s one of the most flattering compliments I’ve ever gotten. I don’t think I’ve ever had a fan that hadn’t seen me dance before. I know for a fact that it wasn’t the dance you were looking for, though, was it? The real strip club experience is a little different than the private shindig you got. There are usually dancers out on the floor willing and eager to give lap dances. I used to be one of those guys, but seniority and all that,” Tony shrugged, and slung his arm carelessly over the back of his chair. “If you’re interested, I could be talked into a private show that’s just for you.” Tony looked up at him then, the connection Peter felt there earlier suddenly scorching hot – a total contrast to the softness of their conversation the night before.

It would be silly, he figured, not to take the man up on the generous offer, so he nodded eagerly. “I am very interested. I can’t promise to keep my hands to myself, though – I’m a kinesthetic learner, hands-on is the only way I know,” Peter’s voice sounded a little scratchy in his own ears and he noticed the words licking across the older man’s skin were affecting him. “Sounds good. One condition, though – we go to my place,” Tony’s voice was low and deep, too – the rumble of it doing things to the tightness of his pants. Gulping in air, Peter nodded – he figured he’d probably agree to just about anything in that moment. They continued to stare at each other, intensifying the heat of moment until the server came to deposit the check on the table – the magic broken for the time being. Peter grabbed the bill before Tony could get his hands on it, a little triumphant gasp slipping from his lips. “You can get the next one,” Peter said, his hand brushing against Tony’s shoulder as he walked past him to pay at the register.

The warmth of Tony’s hand in his own was not nearly as surprising as the way it made him feel – why did the guy have to be so fitting, their palms were staticky, the heat of the combined touched scorching, the burn of it just barely on the right side of tantalizing. Despite the brief interruption of getting into the car, Tony’s grip was sound the entire way to the older man’s house. Instead of teasing like he figured, Tony kept his fingers laced tightly with Peter’s, the gentle sweeping of the thumb on the back of Peter’s hand in tune with the Zeppelin on the radio. The ride was surprisingly peaceful – a huge contrast to the roaring heat of the moment back in the café, but just as nice, just as characteristic to the man he was finding himself enjoying getting to know. In all the ways he assumed he was going to get to know him, too.

They weren’t in the car for very long, the housing division they turned into was a little upscale, yet understated, too. There weren’t a lot of houses jammed into the lot like some of the new subdivisions, so Peter figured the house wasn’t amongst the brand spanking new ones that were constantly being slapped together. The house they pulled up to was one story with a lot of yard surrounding it. There were a couple of trees in the lawn and a really cool screened in porch attached to the front of the house. Other than the one pulling into the driveway, there weren’t any other cars. The house looked immaculately kept and a little bit different than all of the others surrounding it. “I love your porch,” Peter mumbled, his brain mostly still preoccupied checking out all of the things about the place. “Thanks, I built it myself. Other than the guys that came and laid the foundation – most of the house was done by me, now that I’m thinking about it,” Tony replied, his eyes lighting up with pride and excitement.

There were so many things to learn about the man, Peter was quickly finding out. He couldn’t’ decide what he was most excited about, but the hand on his arm and the long finger pointing toward the door reminded him that one of the things he was going to learn very soon was how Tony Stark looked giving a lap dance.

The hand on his arm didn’t stop pulling him until they were in the house and down the hall, in the obvious comfort of the older man’s bedroom. Tony directed Peter to sit on the edge of the bed and he went willingly, his hands sliding under his thighs to quiet the already eager fingers. There wasn’t anything happening yet, and he could already imagine his greedy fingers roaming all over that smooth skin. He’d been unable to get it out of his head since the initial glance of paleness and muscles rippling under the surface. They exchanged a look and Peter couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips at the shit eating grin on Tony’s face. Wide eyes watched the older man place a black version of the purple felt hat he wore in the club and start up some music – the round globes of his ass in the painted-on jeans already starting to move to the beat. He’d never see MGMT’s Electric Feel the same ever again.

Tony started to play with the buttons on his shirt, his shoulders and hips moving with the beat. Each time the drumbeat would hit, he’d snap his hips forward – the move hooking Peter’s attention, keeping it on the fluidity of those hips. The distraction of Tony’s hips made the bareness of his chest in the next moment a surprise – a soft gasp left Peter’s lips before he could reign it in. The small noise brought a smile to Tony’s face, the man’s eyes watching him despite the rest of his body moving fluidly. He stopped listening to the music and let his entire focus stay on every single one of Tony’s movements.

By then, the man was close enough to touch if Peter were to reach out – the body rolls he was doing absolutely fucking sinful. He about shouted for mercy when Tony settled onto his lap – his ass grinding down onto the bulge Peter was having a hard time hiding – the friction light. That friction didn’t last long and Tony was stepping back, his hands moving to undo the button and zipper on his pants – the jeans tumbled down his legs shamelessly a second later. The briefs Tony was wearing weren’t much different than the ones he’d been moving around on-stage in. Where the others were black, these were maroon and highlighted Tony’s cock perfectly.

The microscopic attention to detail Peter paid to Tony’s dance at MJ’s party told him that this bulge was sizably different than what he’d seen before. Peter’s eyes were drawn to it, the press of Tony’s cock against the fabric now obvious the closer the man got to him. Strong hands were grabbing at his arms, Tony placing them on his own hips – he was thrusting his hips within inches of Peter’s face. Peter’s fingers squeezed the bare skin tightly, his arms wanting nothing more than to pull him in, pull him to his mouth or at least close enough to press his nose to the bulge there and take a long, deep breath. Tony didn’t stick around long enough for him to do any of those things, though – the nimble limbs were turning and suddenly Peter had a close-up view of the perfect bubble of Tony’s ass. The briefs barely covered the edges of the man’s cheeks and every swing of his hips made the muscle clench and sway ever so slightly. Without much thought, Peter let his hands grab at the globes, the warmth of the skin there another catalyst to the tight press of his cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans.

As quickly as the view was there, Tony was pulling away. The song was over, and the music changed to something Peter didn’t recognize. There wasn’t much blood anywhere near his brain, anyway. He did register demanding fingers pulling at the bottom of his shirt, his hands flew up and made the drag of it off his body a little easier for the man. When there was nothing left to block the sweet press of skin on skin, Peter pushed himself off the bed and captured Tony’s lips in a kiss. His hands settled low on the man’s hips, his greedy fingers moving to the firm groove of Tony’s ass cheeks – the fabric of the briefs much softer than he figured it would be. Tony’s hands were demanding on his face, the man tilted his head until the kiss was perfect – Peter felt himself get lost in the sensation of smooth firmness under his hands and warm wet pressed against his lips. The press of Tony’s erection against his own brought him back to the surface, his need for oxygen suddenly forcing him to break the kiss.

“You are the sexiest person I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m glad that was my first ever lap dance. Nothing will ever compare. I think you should fuck me. Does that sound okay?” Peter found himself feeling bold – the charge of arousal in the room something that was easy to be brought under by, something that he willingly let take ahold of him.

----

‘Does that sound okay?’ That simple phrase shouldn’t have sounded so good to Tony, but he couldn’t deny how fast the rush of heat traveled over him. His back broke out into a sweat, his skin suddenly tender from the sensitivity of arousal. “Better than,” Tony finally managed to get out, his hands moving down the length of Peter’s chest – his pecks defined, yet slim, the nipples there insanely responsive to the touch. He spent a little bit of time getting acquainted with the side of Peter’s neck and the sweeping sensation of goose flesh breaking out over the other man’s skin. It felt like it was moving across his own skin, though when he checked – there was only sweat and smoothness.

His cock gave a reminding pulse and he forced himself to get back on task. Greedy fingers played with the button and zipper of Peter’s pants, the short, impatient thrusts against his hand too good to just give into the want they were both feeling. He could feel Peter’s impatience – the feeling tangible in both the way he pulled him in for a messy kiss and the subtle pulse of the cock he’d been palming. His own impatience gave way, his fingers deftly getting the button done and the zipper down – Tony’s hand shamelessly slipping under the waistband of Peter’s underwear and gripping the man’s hardness without warning.

“Shit,” Peter gasped, the word hot against Tony’s lips. His lungs were grateful for the break in the kiss and for a couple moments, Tony let himself trace and touch all Peter had to offer. The younger man was long, the length probably an inch longer than Tony himself. The girth was a little on the thin side – but the head made up for it. It was thick and dribbled precum beautifully – his fingers swirling in it every couple of strokes. “You need to get my pants off, please. I want you to touch me – fucking everywhere,” Peter gasped, the man so suddenly mobile – it scared the shit out of Tony.

He pulled his hand free of the other’s pants and watched with fascination as he stepped out of them – both boxer briefs and jeans were kicked aside in one movement. Tony took a second to enjoy the look of Peter completely naked. He was on the slim side everywhere on his body, though there was great muscle definition there, too. There was so much youth still clinging to the man, yet there were so many reminders that the person in front of him was all man – all man and about to be all his.

Tony followed suit and joined the other man in nudity. He let Peter looked his fill in the time it took to close the space between them (which, admittedly wasn’t very long.) Their lips met in a fierce kiss before Tony was pushing Peter onto the mattress. Brown eyes watched the younger man scoot up the sheets until his head was in the nest of pillows at the head of the bed. His legs were slung open wide and a hand was already around his length – those long, pale fingers wrapped around Peter’s hard-on lightly. Licking his lips, Tony mimicked that action, his hand following the pace the young man set. He stood at the end of the bed and let Peter watch him, his moans and sighs in conjunction with the speed up and slowdown of Tony’s hand over his cock. The sweat on his back was starting to bead and trail down the dimple of his spine – his forehead joining the club, the collection of it there making his hair wet and sticky to his forehead. When temptation became too much, Tony got onto the bed and slapped Peter’s hand away – his mouth replacing the fingers without a second thought.

He hollowed his cheeks and started a pretty ruthless pace right from the get-go – he wanted to see what Peter Parker looked like on the edge – and then he wanted to take him there with his fingers and cock all over again. One of his hands ran up the middle of Peter’s stomach, his fingers playing over the slight ripple of abs with every aborted thrust the other man tried not to make. The other hand moved under the heaviness of Peter’s length and tangled in the light dusting of hair just behind his ball sac. Deep throating him, Tony wasn’t surprised when fingers were tangled in his hair, the pressure of them on the pleasurable side of pain. Tony eased up and let the cum spill down his throat – the high pitched “Tony!” coming from the other sending another jolt of uncontrollable heat to the tip of his cock.

There wasn’t much protest when Tony finally settled the entirety of his weight against Peter’s chest – his cock settling against the man’s stomach. And though he’d just found release, Tony could feel Peter’s cock throb when he brushed against it. Peter’s thighs settled around his hips, keeping him in one spot for the time being. Tony leaned forward and pressed his lips against Peter’s – his tongue diving in without much preamble, the man eager to share the taste of release fresh on his tongue. The moan he heard was sinful, the echo of it forever engrained in the front of Tony’s memory.

There were things one just couldn’t unhear.

Peter sucked desperately on his tongue and tightened his leg against Tony’s hips – the man quickly regaining his interest in the proceedings. His thrust up against Tony was signal enough – the desperation in Tony’s body finally starting to win out. “Want you on my lap,” he mumbled, his lips pressing first against Peter’s, then against the soft skin of his chin, and finally against his neck – the length of flesh quickly one of Tony’s favorites.

It took a second or two to rearrange and grab the needed supplies, the men both laughing with the ecstasy of the moment as they moved about. With Peter across his hips, he could feel the man’s hard cock against him – his lubed-up fingers were eager to press against what he figured would be a tightly furled muscle just waiting to be relaxed. Tony didn’t waste any time teasing and pressed the tip of one of his fingers lightly against Peter’s rim. The body above him relaxed, more of his finger slipping in with every breath Peter took to calm himself down. The angle was perfect to find Peter’s prostate early on and he very quickly had a lapful of eager and moaning Peter Parker. The second finger he pressed inside did so easily, Peter’s body so on edge and welcoming of whatever Tony had to give. The scissoring motion of his finger had the man clutching at his neck, the fingers in his hair pulling at the length. “Come on. You’re just being a gratuitous shit now, Tony,” Peter murmured, his eyes so glazed over Tony wondered how much of what was coming out of his mouth he would actually remember.

There wasn’t any reason not to follow Peter’s order, though. And to be honest, he was being a little gratuitous in his pleasure. He’d been thrusting up against Peter’s left butt check while his fingers worked him open – and when he was able to focus enough, Tony let his fingers of the other hand run over the hard cock pressing against their stomachs. Slipping his fingers out, Tony rolled the condom on and poured a generous amount of lube into his hand – grasping himself just long enough to spread it around his length.

If he fucked around too much with himself, there’d be no going back. It seemed like Peter was just as eager, his big brown eyes were watching every one of Tony’s moves – his hands gripping his shoulders tightly. It didn’t take but a small little nudge and he was sliding into the tightest heat he’d ever felt. Peter’s coordinated move down onto him made his entry quick and clean – the press of his pelvis against pert ass cheeks almost as delicious as the tightness around him.

Tony kept a tight grip on Peter’s hips, the other man already starting to rise and fall on his pulsing length. He could feel Peter’s thighs flex against his own, the reminder of pure strength a straight shot to the core. A chorus of moans and loud slaps of skin were the only noises in the room for a long time – Tony letting Peter control the pace until he felt the other tightening around him. He’d increase the grip on Peter’s hips and pull him hard into his lap – Tony’s thrusts short and teasing but not enough to get there, not yet. Tony couldn’t get enough of the needy huffs Peter would pant against his lips, or the ridiculous drool of precum that seemed to leak more and more each time he brought the other so very close to the edge. The smear of it against his stomach too good to give up just yet. “You’re fucking driving me nuts, Tony. If you touch me, I’ll come apart,” Peter whispered against the skin of Tony’s chin after a particularly hard thrust against his prostate.

Moving quickly, Tony grabbed the back of Peter’s thighs and flipped their position. Tony pressed Peter into the mattress and let the last little bit of control he was clinging to snap. He lost track of everything other than hot velvet and sticky slick against his stomach. In the end, Peter dug his fingernails down the length of Tony’s back and let out a loud ‘fuck’ – his cum splashing hot and wet between their bellies. Tony turned his head and bit down into the side of Peter’s neck, his own orgasm rushing through him with a force that was so close to being way too much. He let his hips thrust through the entirety of it, Tony only stopping when the sensitivity was too much.

They maneuvered a little so Tony could pull out and dispose of the condom, the man returning to collect Peter in his arms in no time. He pressed a kiss to Peter’s neck and held him close. Soon, they’d need to roll out of bed and wipe off the sticky goodness of their coupling, but for now – both men seemed pretty content. Peter’s fingers ran along the length of Tony’s forearm, the touch bringing gooseflesh to the surface of his skin. “How do you feel about pizza?” Tony murmured after a while, his stomach grumbling, remind him of how much energy it took to strip and fuck the shit out of someone. He felt the rumble of Peter’s chest as the man chuckled, his soft lips pressing against whatever parts of Tony’s skin he could reach. “I could kill a pizza right now.”

It wasn’t conventional – how quickly they fell into bed, or how easily they seemed to fit together, but there wasn’t much about Tony that could be said to be conventional, anyway. They spent the rest of the day eating pizza out of the box, Peter sometimes getting away with stealing the pepperonis from Tony’s slices and sometimes getting caught in the act – and ending up with the pepperonis anyway. It was easy, being with Peter, and at that point in his life, Tony was looking for easy. Snuggling into the comfort of the couch, Tony let Peter lean into the circle of his arms. The older man pressed a kiss to shower wet hair and pulled him close.

“Steve and Buck are having a BBQ tomorrow. Want to come?” Tony asked softly, his nose sliding across Pete’s soft skin. “Yeah, I do.” Peter replied instantly, his body relaxing further into the warmth of Tony’s chest.

“Good – Morgan’s expecting you, anyway.”

[slut-for-fandoms]

Paint me yours (kth x reader) PART 1

Pairings: Artist!Taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst (in the following chapters) 

Summary:  You are an art college student who struggles with finances. Until one day, on an exhibition of the arising artist Kim Taehyung, when the same boy offers you a job as his model. Would it be just a simple job or would it complicate your life in ways you have never thought it would?

Warnings: none in this one (perhaps my bad writing and lots of mistakes?) 

A/N: So here is the first chapter. I really don’t know what to think about it as i haven’t written anything in more than a year (so sorry guys but now I am back, yey) I really do hope you like it and please let me know what you think and whether you would like to be tagged in the series ♥ Enjoy 

Euphoria. Excitement. Happiness. Exaltation. A complete symphony of colors and emotions. Blue, purple, violet, azure - blended in such a way that glues you to the masterpiece. At places it seems unfinished, raw, as though the creator has been in a hurry. But at the same time it is so detailed that you wonder how long it took him to create it. It represents a woman, or to be more precise, a young girl. Long hair composed with ochre, amber, honey and a hint of gold, covers half of her pale face. Her lips are the perfect combination of red, cheery, wine and auburn. An orderly chaos of colors.

While everything seems just as raw painting, the most capturing features are the eyes. They are so detailed and express the condition of the girl. The sparks that make her look tangible grabs you on a roller coaster of thoughts and feelings and somehow makes you even experience the same state.  I move to the next painting.

Sadness. Affliction. Pain. Torment. The contrast between the used shades is much deeper. Pale yet dark. The more I look at it, the more it captivates me. All of the creations I saw were beyond amazing, complete masterpieces but this one… This one is different. One look and I got this strange feeling in my guts when we anticipate something bad, something that might hurt us.

The background is composed of dark shades, while the girl is sculpted of the pale range of colors. Again, the most detailed parts are the eyes. You get the feeling as if a soul was trapped inside the drawn girl that shows how much she suffers. The more you contemplate, the more you assume that the darkness around her represents the cruel world, while the bright yet shaded colors shows how fragile and broken she is. Is it from the world? What destroyed her? Who made her look like a shattered vase which parts are no longer going to form its beautiful shape?

Holding my glass of champagne I took some steps back and sat on the settee opposite the painting. Thanks god it wasn’t that low as they use to be in other galleries. I crossed my legs which caused the hem of my black dress to roll up slightly. As an art student, I tend to visit many exhibitions in order to get inspiration, gain knowledge of the new and unorthodox styles and improve mine. I can’t say I am complaining as we are given free access to any kind of such events. This is beyond amazing as now I am contemplating the art of one of the rising artists – Kim Taehyung. Honestly, I have never seen him but the critics consider him the new Van Gogh and now I understand why.

When I came I was so uneven about it, all the people here were rich and classy and I, a broken student with a cheap dress borrowed from her friend, had no place here. Everything was out of my league and I felt like garbage disfiguring this place.

“You seem really immersed into the picture.”, someone chucked, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw man in golden suit and two glasses of champagne in his hands. His smile was so bright, genuine, that it made me blush slightly, “May I?”, he titled his head towards the settee as if asking if it was free.

“Ye- yeah, of course”, I stuttered and put a lock of fallen hair behind my ear.

His smile grew bigger and he took the free seat next to me.

“Here.”, he gave me one of the glasses. I looked up at him confused, “I saw that you have already finished yours so…”, I looked at my glass which was empty. I might have stayed there for a way longer time that I have thought. I left the glass on the floor next to the settee.

“Thank you.”, I gave him a smile, although inside I was feeling embarrassed, “Very fond of you.”, I said after taking the offered glass.

“Well, I just wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I have left such a beautiful lady sitting here by her side. The champagne was just an excuse to approach you.”, I bit my lip and tried to hide myself due to the blush that crept on my face.

“You are even more appealing when blushing.”, okay, I have never believed I could become so red but here I am.

“Please, stop.”, I stuttered through the smile that just grew bigger on my face.

“Why?”, he tilted his head and asked me with that sweet smirk still placed on his face, his eyes never leaving my figure, “you don’t like honest people?”, as a response I chuckled and tried to gain my dignity and look at him. Why was I such a blushing mess around this… stranger…a handsome stranger?

“It is just that you are the first one to approach me this evening.”, a slight feeling of sadness made my stomach turn as I recall the events, pardon, the lack of them from this night. I started playing with my hands as something as pity overwhelmed me.

“Well-”, his deep baritone voice made me look at him. This time he was facing the painting in front of us which gave me the opportunity to survey him. Soft pink lips, sweet roundy nose, medium long light eyelashes. Skin in the color of bronze and a golden suit that make him look like a god. Aristocratic hands with long fingers, adorned with rings. The way he is holding the glass gives you the thoughts that a prince is sitting oppose you, “It is their lose.”, he states after locking his eyes with mine. And then I’m completely lost. They are just like the sad girls’ in the paintings – full of emotions. I see the same spark that leads directly to his soul. It captivates you. There is love, care, tenderness that make my heart skips a beat. But also you can spot something wild and intriguing. An abyss of feelings kept locked deep inside.

He took a sip of his champagne which caught my attention and made me break the eye contact. How could such a simple action as drinking makes me wanna grab the brushes and paint this gorgeous creature on the canvas?

“I can’t say I am complaining of that.”, I followed his movements and took a taste of my drink, “They seem like they are here only for talking. All of them are just chit-chatting and just at times spare a glance at the paintings. It – It just looks like a gathering of the rich and bitchy class.”, suddenly he burst into laughing. Oh that sound… It was like a soft melody for my years I could listen to all day. It was so infectious and addicting.

“What?”, I asked confused but with a smile plastered on my face.

“I couldn’t have said it more correctly. I’ve met everybody in the gallery and yet you are the only one contemplating the works.”

“Isn’t that what we are supposed to do on an exhibition? But apart from that, these paintings, these masterpieces…”, I took a breath like looking at the sad girl opposite me, “they are captivating. There is life in them, there is soul. Undoubtedly the artist is one of the best I’ve ever come across. Many have the ability to draw, few have the talent to create a masterpiece, something that makes you stop and think. And these here, they indeed convey more than a hundred words.”

“And where do you think that comes from?”, he asks me in that deep voice of his. I turn my attention back on him to see the man already looking at me with a stern expression showing nothing.

“The ability to make a painting live?”, he nodded his head in agreement, “Pain.”

“Pain?”

“Pain. It is always the pain. Why do you think the greatest artists are those who have suffered the most?  Sadness, sorrow, ache, agony… they are different than the other feelings. When something good happens to you, you are happy for a short moment. Usually those moments tends to be forgotten way easier than the moments that our soul was in pain. It is just that the affliction we bottle inside us ruins us in the end. The knots in our stomach, the suffocating feeling in our chest… they are tormenting us and we all need a way to express them somehow, to try to get them out of us. And the answer is always the art. It doesn’t matter whether it would be with a brush or a pen in our hands, if we are going to compose a poem, song or just draw something.  We just want the pain away. For its tight fist around our hearts to weaken, for its dark thoughts to leave us at peace at night, for the tears to stop rolling down and choke us.”, I paused in order to take a sip of my champagne, feeling his eyes following my movements, “That is one of the reasons why I like this one so much.”, I continued pointing at the work before us, “It look as if not only the model had been sad, but also the artist.”, when I turned around he had a sad smile on his face. For a moment I saw the abyss – full of sorrow and regret, pain and affliction.

“You can’t be more right.”, and once again, as he looked up, the door to his soul closed with that stern expression, “That is why I don’t know whether I like this work or not.”

“It recalls a bad event?”

“It recalls the day I painted her.”

My eyes were so wide that surely they were going to pop out of my head. I opened my mouth, then close it, then opened it again. I was so shocked that I could say nothing.

“I still remember how heartbroken she was.”

“You- you are the artist?”, my voice raised an octave higher and I cursed myself.

“Surprised?”, he asked smiling at my shocked expression.

“You just caught me off guard.”

And then the rest of the night kind of slips my mind. I don’t really know how long we’d been talking through various topics. Whatever felt like hours had only been half an hour once I saw the watch on my hand.

“Unfortunately, as a host, I need to make a speech. It was nice to meet you -”

“(Y/N)!”, answering I took his hand as he helped me get up from the settee.

“(Y/N).”, he said tasting my name and I could not miss the way his tongue rolled and the deep voice that sent shivers down my spine, “A beautiful name for a way more gorgeous girl.”

“Why are you trying to make my blush so hard?”, I asked trying to hide my face.

“I don’t know. I just like it.”, he shrugged with a smile, “Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”, is it just me or he just lowered his voice on purpose while saying my name.

“O-Of course.”, out of nervousness I started playing with my own hands which only made his smirk grow bigger.

“Would you like to be my model, darling?”

[heyheyitsstillgay]

Escaping the Eyes

Phandom Phic Phight Entry #1 based on a prompt from @gottacatchghosts

#TeamGhosts team leader: @ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

Also available on FFN ; Next Entry

Words: 2,411; Status: Complete

Preparing himself as he clicked open the lock, he walked out of the cubicle and over to the sinks.

There it was again. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Adamant to ignore it, he kept his eyes straight, washed and dried his hands and left the room.

It got worse. Contorting his face into a casual bored smirk, he waved to the friends waiting for him. Waved as though his skin wasn't currently trying to crawl away from him.

"Come on man, are you tryin' to make us late?" Called the tall blond, turning away and leading the group down the corridor.

"I'm sorry," Danny retorted, "did you want to arrive at English early? Personally I don't want to be sat at a desk listening to that voice drone on for a single second more than necessary." He snickered.

A sigh escaped the purple lips of the dark haired girl next to him.

"And you wonder why you're failing English."

"Hey! Don't act like you find it remotely interesting. You were complaining about the poetry he's assigned us for the whole of lunch break."

"That's because it's a billion years old written by fancy white guys who weren't even trying to include any of the symbolism we're supposed to be able to see."

"Maybe you're just not looking for their visions hard enough?" Her girlfriend teased.

Despite their apparent running late for class, Dash felt the need to break apart from the front of the group. Of all the gazes on them currently, it was Nathan's he took issue with specifically. How many times did the girl he was unashamedly drooling over have to say no before the geek got the message? Sooner or later the kid was going to get his glasses broken from being stuffed into his locker at the wrong angle. Serves him right. Two less eyes on them. Two out of hundreds.

Needless to say, Danny didn't focus in class. He took his seat, at the far back right, like always. To get as far away from the teachers scrutinising gaze as possible. To get as far away from everyone's dissecting glare as possible. Of course, that feeling was still there. Something still studied him. It was almost tangible, wind clawing through and ruffling his hair. Externally, boredom seemed to weigh him down, slumping backwards in his chair. In reality he was clenching his jaw and leaning away from the stress biting at his neck. Oh my god, can he spend one second not being torn apart, please?

He can't help that he's 'special' or 'better' or 'skilled'. He was born to successful parents, very well off inventors. They have an… interesting hobby. They just had to rope him and his sister into it. He's a Fenton, that comes with intelligence and precision. His dad's gene pool perfect for muscle development, his mom's skills perfect for fighting. Fentons were supposed to be ghost hunters, he'd been raised to defend, protect and fight from a young age. He enjoyed it, learning 'ghost hunting skills' was about the only time he actually saw his parents because they were so busy with the family business.

The school bell was like a starting horn. Sure he'd been roped into being on the football team, how couldn't he with his athleticism? But track had always been one of his favourites. Over the sound of chairs scraping against the floor, he yelled a "Laters!" to his friends as he threw his bag over his shoulder. He bolted out of the door.

Too many, too many, too many. He weaved through the groups of people beginning to form in the hallways. No way was he spending one more moment than necessary here. Sure he loves the friends he's made but, there's always just, so many eyes. So many people. Looking up to him? Watching him? Another one of the cool teens who could have no imperfections. Having to exist around the sheep who ate at his soul with just their stares, day in, day out. A nightmare. It drains him, makes him feel dead on his feet. Slamming out of the doors, smirking in anticipation, he darts behind a shed.

Why? This wasn't right. It was supposed to go away. If he was truly alone then how can he still feel it? His senses are heightened now, he knows that that's why his school life is so much more difficult than it used to be, ever since the accident. His body can't be lying to him about feeling something nearby, if it is then he may go insane.

"Hey Phantom." He scowls as he finally notices the techno-geek crouched in the dirt.

"I told you not to call me that, especially when I look like this. The hell are you doing here Foley?" Calm washes over Danny as Tucker looks back to his PDA.

"Waiting for you. You realise it's painfully obvious that you always hide behind here-"

"I do not hide."

"-after school at every opportunity and that you're never seen leaving this spot either. Sure morons go to this school but I didn't take you for one of them."

Danny knows Tucker doesn't understand him. Sure, the teen was there when it happened but that was all, he was still a nerd. Tucker wants attention from other people, Danny wants to be left to his friends and hobbies without everyone else's judging looks. Thoughts running through their heads, about him, as though they knew anything about him. He used to want to trade places with Tucker, he came across as kind of a loner but he has the ability to blend into the background, to do what he wants without scrutiny from everyone. When people look at Danny, they could be thinking anything about him; jealousy, loathing, admiration, hatred. When people look at Tucker, their eyes gloss over him, no second thoughts needed. When Danny glares at the people who look at him, it's out of envy that they don't know what it's like to live in a constant spotlight. Being in the A-list is so much, too much, it burns, his skin bubbling and melting under the pressure.

"Then what do you suggest?" Danny folds his arms and stands with his shoulders back.

"Dude, mix it up a bit, there are other places to hide in this school. Or just like, walk off school grounds like a normal person and duck into an alleyway on your way home."

"Yeah? Because normal people duck into alleyways?"

Eyes still locked on his PDA, the boy sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

"You're not normal anymore, man. If you're so insistent on hiding yourself then you should make it so no one will guess where to find you." Tucker stood from his spot on the floor and hoisted his backpack on.

"Tsk, whatever." Danny mumbles as he turns away.

No one is looking at him anymore. Otherworldly energy thrummed from within, Danny grasps at it, pacing forward slowly and increasing his speed, light surrounds him as he envelopes himself in the instinct he'd been suppressing all day. Mid-jump, he vanishes.

It's like surfacing from water. He inhales deeply and soars. His hair pushed back by the breeze, body spinning occasionally from the thrill of it all. He doesn't have to look down to know that the earth is moving away from him, or rather, he is pushing free of it. He reaches out his hand above him as the clouds near his fingertips. They don't feel like anything but they were still magnificent. The world morphed to pinks and blues and yellows as he moves through them and drops the invisibility. He doesn't need it anymore. No one could see him up here, he may as well not exist. It's bliss.

The stark green glow of his eyes reflect onto the clouds as he races above them. He can't stop the laugh that escapes his throat, so he doesn't, he doesn't need to.

Time passing is shown by the oranges swarming in the sky. If he pictures the clouds as a couch then he can just lounge among them. It's still too bright out to see the stars but that doesn't bother him much. There's always later, if he awakes at night from the cold again, he can come see the stars then. Some day he's gonna decide to be stupid enough to go further and see how close he can get to touching them without killing himself again like a total imbecile. Is it supposed to be worrying that he looks forward to it? He doesn't think he's meant to. Death has had a strange beauty and grace ever since he became part ghost about four months ago. It's so much happier than he expected it to be when he was human. Times like these, getting away from it all, makes him want to go through another tomorrow, to do it again. He has so much hope, he wants to stay here forever.

He doesn't, obviously. He has to eat at some point. Remind his parents, hilariously, that he's not dead.

He doesn't change back to his other form when he reaches the ground. Just casually strolls around as if the fact that he's glowing shouldn't be a big deal. He curls into himself to keep from being too recognisable as his human counterpart. No one gives him a second glance. It's like he's still invisible. He didn't try this for the first two months after the accident but since the beginning, other ghosts have been popping up everywhere. His parents have been overjoyed with the hunt, regular people give them a wide berth and try to pretend like the dead aren't floating among them.

He loves that. Doesn't even have to be invisible for people to look through him now. A blanket of calm envelops him for the whole walk. Arms hanging loose at his side, he takes in the beauty of the sky and trees from the ground and grins to himself. He doesn't notice any other ghosts on his way back, which is kind of a shame. Danny loves hanging out with the spirits, no one around even stops to wonder what they're doing, too busy backing away attempting to give them as much space as possible. It was Saturday tomorrow, he'd normally meet up with Ember and her friends and mess around on the high-street. He'll have to find something else to do this weekend though, she's been super busy working on an upcoming album for the human world. Danny had promised he'd tell his human friends about it, spread the hype around Casper High. She'd jumped at the idea, offering backstage passes for himself and his friends. He'd had to turn her down of course, there's no way he's being spotted with VIP passes to a concert as Fenton when he could hang from the rafters and prat around as a Phantom instead.

It's odd how he can sense that more people look at him as Fenton than they do when he's Phantom. He could float into Nasty Burger via the wall and the people inside would actually try to avoid his gaze. Thrilling.

His stroll home is quiet, even the voices in his head are calm. There are never more than two pairs of eyes on him at a time. Even then they always look away quickly. Transforming back in the alleyway by the side of his house, he scales the drain pipe to get into his room.

It's funny how much he enjoys being at his house too. There's a basement full of devices being designed to hunt things like him. It doesn't bother him, it's the portal in that room that makes it all worth it.

He's been there before, the first time was about a month after the accident. Spirits live there, they're actual people, a whole manner of shapes, but they all glow, like him. They glance at him with only mild curiosity and then they move on with their afterlives. Understanding is beginning to form for his parents obsession. It's like a whole other world. Green as far as you can see but there's more to it than that. So many greens, so many shapes and textures and things with purposes he can't even begin to comprehend. He really wants to though.

The beings there speak in a strange language too, he's heard them, is somehow able to understand them. Crowded around the portal, he's overheard rumours. Someone said they saw a being that was half ghost half human. It took a moment to think, maybe that's what he was? Everyone around the ghost who spoke about it laughed though.

"A creature of both worlds, you say?" They had been shaking their head in disbelief, "don't be ridiculous, something like that couldn't truly exist."

In a moment of courage and curiosity, Danny had nudged a child at the edge of the group, the boy was dressed like a wizard, a skeletal owl perched upon his shoulder.

"Y'know," Danny whispered, "I'm a human who can make myself look like a ghost, what does that make me?"

The kid who was already holding back giggles about the current topic burst into all out laughter. He curled his knees up into his chest as tears formed in his eyes.

"Stop it! That's so silly!" the boy exclaimed.

"No, I'm serious, I can." Danny smiled.

"Yeah?" said the boy, his eyes shone "Wanna play a game with it?"

The boy, Youngblood he called himself, ended up dressed like an Olympic racer. They spent an hour or so running back and forth across a long floating rock. "Running on our feet of all things!" Youngblood had laughed, both moving as though gravity affected them. Danny even let him win a few times. He made a new friend. The best bit? Anyone who noticed, didn't care. This was his life now, no one back home would figure any of it out just by looking at him.

Ghosts didn't think he was anything special. He could be invisible just like the rest of them. He could be himself and he knew none of them even cared. Didn't even believe he was human, Youngblood had decided he could shape-shift, Danny had shrugged his shoulders and went along with it when the kid told anyone.

His human friends were fun. His ghost friends made him feel free.

Based on GottaCatchGhosts' Prompt - A-lister Danny Fenton likes to relax on his days off by hanging out around town as his nobody counterpart, Danny Phantom. (basically, an AU where fenton is popular and phantom isn't.)

I accidentally glazed over the "on his days off" parts and only dedicated two paragraphs to "hanging out" whoops, hope it's okay

[reverse-winx]

Stella’s Ring

Hello everyone, sorry it’s been so long since the last chapter went up.  I can’t make any promises about when the next one will go up, but I’ll do my best for you.

Obligatory disclaimer: I don’t work for Rainbow and I don’t make money off this.

Last time:

Bloom enrolled at Cloud Tower School for Witches with Stella as her sponsor.  She met three other girls in her suite, Flora, Tecna, and Musa, as well as three powerful fairies, Icy, Darcy, and Stormy.  Bloom and her new friends discovered that all is not as it seems when it comes to Magix’s three most famous fairies, and they may have made some enemies...

The next morning, Bloom headed down for breakfast with her suitemates. “I never got a chance to thank you all for last night,” she said as they descended the many staircases. “How did you figure out where I was?”

“Well, you said you had just wanted a quick call, so I gave you change for a ten-minute-max call. But then ten minutes passed and you didn’t come back,” said Stella.

Tecna continued. “I looked up the location of the nearest phone booth, which wasn’t very far.”

Flora said, “We investigated, and you weren’t there. Musa heard a commotion, though, so we followed her ears to where you were.”

“What I can’t believe is that they were associating in the open with an ogre,” Stella said. “Ogres are creatures of dark magic. The Trio hasn’t gotten where they are by being careless.”

“It would have had to be something really important,” Musa said, thinking.

“They said they really want Stella’s scepter,” Bloom said. Turning to her friend, she asked, “Do you have any idea why?”

Stella shook her head. “It’s an heirloom that’s been in my family for millennia,” she answered. “Other than its ability to channel and amplify magic, there’s nothing too special about it.”

The newly-named Winx girls let the subject drop over breakfast before they headed to their first class, Mayhem, taught by Professor Zarathustra. The tall woman stalked purposefully before the lecture hall, looking them over critically. “Witches thrive off the energy of chaos,” she said as she walked back and forth. “In this world where people constantly seek some semblance of order, we witches must know how to draw on the chaotic nature of the universe and harness it. We can feed off the emotional turmoil of other beings just as well as we can use the energy of a thundering waterfall. With this knowledge alone as your tool, we will commence our first exercise in magic. Draw on some source of chaos, either from within yourself or from your surroundings, and focus it between your hands. Begin.”

“That’s not a lot of instruction,” Bloom whispered to Stella.

Stella shrugged and held out her hands. A ball of silvery light appeared above them. “It’s not too bad,” she said. “But then again, I’ve been doing this for years.”

Musa also easily focused a ball of fuchsia light in her hands. “I can hear the soundwaves bouncing all over this room, and they’re in no way orderly,” she explained to Bloom.

“You’re making a rather good source of inner turmoil,” Tecna commented as an electric green glow appeared in her hands.

“Glad to be of assistance,” Bloom said as she held out her hands and focused. “This was so much easier when I was being attacked by an ogre.”

“That’s because you were scared,” Stella said as she juggled several silver balls of light around idly. “Fear and battle are great for mayhem.”

Bloom peeked over at Flora and saw that her eyes were closed, and that she was whispering to herself. “The wind whistles freely outside – there is both order and chaos in nature. Let me embrace the beautiful chaos.” A weak, golden glow bubbled over Flora’s hands, leaving Bloom feeling rather inadequate.

“Most of you seem to be making progress,” Professor Zarathustra said as she peered over their group. She turned her attention to Bloom. “Hm. You’re the last-minute enrolment. An uncharted dimension, if I recall. No exposure to magic. You’re going to have a lot of catching up to do.”

Bloom chewed her lip as the professor walked away. “I’m doomed,” she groaned. “Come on, work!” Something faint and orange flickered between her fingertips and died.

“It’s a step in the right direction,” Flora said encouragingly. “We can work on it together later if you’d like.”

Later found Bloom in Flora’s room, practicing the exercise. “I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong,” Bloom said with a sigh. “How am I supposed to focus chaos between my hands?”

“It’s difficult,” Flora said as she practiced alongside Bloom. “I’m more of a potion’s person myself. I like working with controlled, predictable chaos, which sounds rather contradictory, I know, but it’s different.”

“No, I get it,” Bloom said. “It’s like chemistry, but with magic. Stuff doesn’t obey the laws of physics, but it does it consistently.”

Flora nodded. “This whole energy thing is just a little difficult to grasp.”

“Tecna and Musa were able to get it right away,” Bloom said with a sigh. “Stella doesn’t count since she’s been learning magic since she was little. Maybe we could go ask those two for help?”

So, they did. Musa lazed on her bed as she described her process. “Soundwaves are all around us, and I just happen to be able to detect them,” she said. “They bounce all over the place, and my power allows me to tap into it. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“It’s similar for me,” Tecna said. “I’m the Witch of Technology, and so, naturally, I’m in tune with all sorts of waves and electric signals that most other beings aren’t. Some of them are orderly, but many aren’t. I’m also more observant that most people, so I can easily identify sources of chaos.”

“Theoretically, it all makes sense,” Flora said as she continued trying. “Nature is all around me. It’s just a matter of focusing properly.”

“At least you know what to look for,” Bloom said glumly.

“You still practicing?” Stella asked, poking her head into room 14J. “You worry too much.”

“If I can’t get at least decent fast, I risk being kicked out,” Bloom said.

Stella strode over to her side and squeezed her shoulder gently. “Don’t worry about it. We’re not fairies. We don’t get a new transformation and suddenly have all this magic available to us. We earn our powers through hard work.”

“Their way must be nice,” Bloom muttered.

“Come on, what happened to the girl who was so confidently talking about taking a stand for witches?” Stella asked. “You’ve held off an ogre with a stick! You can do this!”

“Yeah,” said Flora. “We’ll be all the stronger because of all the work we give.”

“All this talk about work is gonna make me sick,” Musa complained.

“Why is that?” asked Tecna. “You’re in a school environment, where such talk is generally unavoidable. Also, it’s just words. They shouldn’t have any impact on your physical wellbeing or the pathogens that make their way into your body.”

“She does have a point,” Stella said. “It’s just the first day. Sometimes the simpler things are harder anyway. You just need to relax a little.”

“The suggestion to remove the chaotic energy from your person does not sound unreasonable,” Tecna remarked. “Perhaps being surrounded by external yet tangible chaotic energy will be more basic for a complete novice.”

“You speak so pretentiously,” Musa remarked.

“And you complain too much,” Stella said, voicing what Bloom had been thinking.

“About the ‘surrounding ourselves with tangible chaotic energy’,” Flora said hesitantly, “how should we do that?”

“Simple exposure to multiple living beings would suffice,” Tecna said.

Musa rolled over onto her side. “I know some spots in Magix,” she offered. “Sure, they’re not where the most upstanding members of society hang out, but they’re bustling with energy all the same.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Stella said. “I just happen to know that there’s a party in Alfea this weekend. It’s some formality between Alfea and Red Fountain, and naturally, Cloud Tower isn’t invited.”

“How do you know about it, then?” Bloom asked.

“Oh, I’ve got contacts,” Stella said flippantly. “Anyhow, the energy there will be alive with magic, which could be the perfect place for you and Flora to get a sense for lively chaos.”

“And Magix City doesn’t have enough?” Musa asked. “Look, a party is cool, but I’m not about to go within thirty measures of a bunch of preppy girls who would love an excuse to put me away. Plus, there are clubs out in the city that serve some pretty sweet drinks.”

“There’s no drinking age in Magix?” Bloom asked.

“Not in Magix, no,” said Stella. “People around here realize that making a big deal over restricting something is a surefire way to make sure people use back roads to get it. But, anyway, I still say we should head to Alfea’s party.”

Flora looked uncertain. “I don’t know. I think Musa has a point.”

“But Stella’s right about the energy,” said Tecna. “The power of uncontrolled, teenage magic is far greater than the rage of a slightly-intoxicated club.”

“We’ll stand out immediately,” Musa argued. “Everyone knows you, Stella, and the rest of us can’t exactly pass for fairies.”

“That’s where the glamor comes in!” Stella said excitedly. “At Alfea, one of the first things they teach is metamorphosis. Last year, all the girls used it to hide their blemishes, make-up their faces, and fix up their clothes.”

“Metamorphosis is a fairy power,” Tecna said. “It’s constructive and builds up an illusion. It’s totally incompatible with witch power, which, you should know, is destructive.”

“That’s why I said ‘glamor’,” Stella explained. “I’m the Witch of the Sun, Moon, and Stars. My power comes from light! I can just change what’s reflected off us, and no one will know the difference.”

“That sounds both complicated and exhausting,” Flora said.

“Yeah,” Bloom agreed. “There’s got to be a better option.”

“Yeah, like going to a club,” Musa pointed out.

Stella pursed her lips. “Flora!”

“Yes?” The girl looked up at her with surprised, innocent eyes.

“Do you know any morphing potions?” Stella asked.

“Well, yes, but…” the girl trailed off.

“But what?” Stella asked.

“Morphing potions require something off which to base their model,” Flora said.

“Meaning?” Bloom asked.

“I’d need some biological artifact from a person we want to emulate,” she answered.

“Even if we’re just going for body type?” Stella asked.

“The best thing that I can brew in time for the weekend would be an imitation potion,” Flora explained. “More specific ones, like for body type, would take longer, and could possibly have some adverse effects. An imitation, however, will fade after a few hours or so.”

“We’re really going to this fairy party?” Musa complained.

“Hey, if we don’t start breaking down barriers, no one will,” Bloom said.

“Barriers?” Musa scoffed.

“They discriminate against us,” Bloom said. “You know it’s wrong. And we have to do something about it.”

“By trying to fit right in with them?” asked Musa.

“To be fair, the Trio did get a pretty clear look at our faces yesterday,” Stella said.

“Bloom is right,” Tecna said decisively. “All these other dimensions are so behind the times. On Zenith, anti-discrimination laws have been in place for hundreds of years. It’s about time that someone decided to push things along.”

“Once again, by trying to look like them and go to their parties?” Musa asked. “Sorry, but that’s not for me.”

“We’re not trying to play their game here,” said Bloom, feeling herself getting more confident. “We’re trying to learn how they play their game so that we can get familiar with it and then tear it apart before the public.”

“That’s optimistic,” said Musa. “But it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to convince you guys otherwise, huh?”

“You’re in, then?” Stella asked.

“If we witches can’t stick together, who else do we have?” Musa reluctantly pointed out. “Plus, there may be a day when I want you guys to have my back. Something for something, you know?”

“That’s the spirit!” Stella exclaimed.

“You haven’t said anything, Flora,” Bloom noted. “This whole thing relies heavily on your potion-making. Are you okay with this?”

Flora shrugged. “I’ve done worse things than sneak into a fairy party.”

“Really? Like what?” asked Musa. “Squish a bug?”

“Well, that too,” Flora admitted. “My little sister is slightly allergic to hornets, so there was no question in my mind. Anyhow, like I said, I’ll need biological material of someone whose form we want to emulate.”

“I’d offer mine, but I don’t know if the potion takes into account my physical maintenance,” Stella said.

“Oh, it should,” said Flora.

“Then here.” Stella plucked a long, blonde strand and handed it to the smaller girl.

“So, we’ll all end up looking like you,” Tecna stated.

“That’s right,” said Flora.

“We’ll remedy that by using makeup, hair dye, contacts, and different shoes,” Stella said. “It’ll be the mother of all makeovers – making one person look five unique types of different!”

“Shoes?” asked Tecna.

“To throw off the heights,” said Stella. “We’ll all be the same, and it’s unlikely for five friends to be that way, even if we’ve all got the same body type.”

“I’ll get started right away,” Flora said.

“Tell me your style preferences, and I’ll whip something sweet up for all of us!” Stella exclaimed.

*~*~*

The weekend came more quickly than Bloom realized, though she supposed it was understandable, with all the extra work she was putting in alongside the required homework. She had finally started getting a feel for the chaos energy that Stella, Musa, and Tecna could feel so easily, but was still nowhere near consistent when it came to being able to do the simple energy concentration that Professor Zarathustra had assigned on the first day.

It was Friday afternoon after classes had ended when Stella called them all into her and Bloom’s room. “I’ve taken all of your requests into account, and this is what I’ve got. Come see the drawings!”

Stella was a talented artist, Bloom discovered, and she knew fashion inside and out. She admired the simple, royal blue dress that her roommate had designed for her before noticing the alternative hair color on the model. “Auburn?” she asked Stella.

“It’s just a suggestion,” Stella said as she inspected her large and well-organized box of makeup. “We’re all going to start off as clones, and we can’t just go in there looking like- like- what’s the name for six kids all at once? Six-tuplets or something like that?”

“Sextuplets,” Tecna said. “You think that my hair should be white?”

“Silver,” Stella corrected. “You said you wanted to keep a strong Zenith style, and, according to my research, silver hair is very in right now. Combine that with a slightly metallic lavender and a dash of white and dark gray, and you’ll be the model of Zenith fairy fashion.”

“On Zenith, we don’t make that distinction,” Tecna commented.

Stella waved her off. “You know what I mean.”

“Blonde?” Musa asked as she looked at Stella’s designs for her. “Blonde is overrated.”

“Darker or lighter?” Stella asked as she waltzed over.

“Edgier,” Musa said. “If I’m changing my look, I wanna go hard.”

“The outfit is okay, though?” Stella asked as she looked it over.

“Definitely,” Musa said. “The knee-high boots are perfect.”

“The skirt isn’t too short?” Tecna asked, peering over. “My analysis of your style says that you’re very practical and prefer pants.”

“We’re trying to blend in with a bunch of impractical fairies,” Musa said. “Say, how about colored highlights? Is that fairy-fashion-acceptable?”

Stella thought a moment. “As long as they aren’t black,” she answered. “Pastels are most common, but I think light metallic may be what you’re looking for.”

“Are these makeup notes?” Flora asked.

“Yup,” Stella confirmed. “I’ve gotta find a way to make sure our faces don’t all look the same since I’ve got pretty big, recognizable eyes, you know? Oh, and while I’m thinking about it, does anyone want to add a little color to their skin or go super pale?”

A good portion of the rest of the day was spent finalizing details. By the time evening came, Bloom was fashioned out. Tecna knocked on the door after dinner and dropped off Bloom’s newly-updated cell phone, so she decided to call her parents before getting some much-needed rest.

“Bloom? Bloom!” her father’s voice came through as if he was sitting next to her. “Wow, your reception is great over there. I’ve never been able to hear so clearly through this thing!”

“Yeah, one of my suite mates is a tech genius,” Bloom said. “She fixed up my phone for me.”

“Sounds like you’re meeting some pretty cool people,” her father said, and Bloom could hear the relief in his voice. “So, how’s the magic?”

“It’s…” Bloom tried to think of a good analogy. “It’s like trying to learn a sport,” she said finally. “It’s not formulaic, like learning history or science. The only way I can get better is by practicing. It’s like when you were trying to teach me to kick a soccer ball into the net. You could explain to me all the physical mechanics, but when it came to me actually doing it, I tripped over my own feet.”

“It’s harder than you thought,” he summarized.

“Yeah, kind of,” Bloom admitted.

“You know, you can always come back home,” he said. “Your mom and I miss you.”

Bloom laughed. “I can’t just give up,” she said. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m learning magic. It doesn’t matter how good or bad I am at it; that I’m able to do it at all is amazing in itself.”

“That’s my passionate little girl,” her father said, and Bloom could hear his smile.

“How’s Mom?” she asked.

“Oh, busy, busy,” he said. “She’s out getting flower food right now, or something like that. She’ll be sad she missed you.”

“It’s okay, I’ll call you guys tomorrow- wait, not tomorrow. I’m going out. I’ll probably call you guys the day after tomorrow or something like that,” Bloom said.

“You’re going out?” her father asked. “There better not be any boys involved.”

“Oh, come on, Dad,” Bloom said. “I’m sixteen! I’m going out with my suite mates to a party near the city, and there will be boys, but they’re not the main object of the night.”

“Be careful all the same,” her father advised. “I don’t care if they’re aliens from other dimensions; they’re still teenage boys who are probably full of hormones and bad judgement.”

“Okay, I promise,” Bloom said. “I’ll watch my friends’ backs, and they’ll watch mine.”

The two of them talked for a little while longer before Bloom very noticeably could not stop yawning. After she hung up, she rolled over in her bed and was asleep in what felt like seconds. When she woke, she saw Stella sweeping around their spacious room, surrounded by beautiful clothes.

“Good morning, sleepy!” Stella sang. “Somewhere, the sun’s shining bright, I can feel it!”

“Good morning,” Bloom said blearily. “Are these tonight’s outfits?”

“Of course!” Stella chirped. “Here, this one’s yours.” She snapped her finger, and in her place stood the auburn-haired, very naturally made-up version of herself that Bloom would be that night. “It really is a great color, hm? And are you still alright with your hair in a braid? If you do, I think a ribbon added in could be a great contrast.”

“Whatever you think is best,” Bloom said. “I’m not great at the whole fashion thing.”

“Then a ribbon it is,” Stella said as she changed back into herself. “You’re gonna look sweet tonight!”

“How are we getting there?” Bloom asked as she sat up.

“Oh, you know those boys I called before when we were fighting the ogre?” Stella asked. “Well, they’re going to the party, and I’m going to have them let us in.”

“Can they do that?” Bloom asked.

“Of course,” Stella said. “Prince Sky is, well, a prince. He can do almost anything and it’ll be fine.”

The day passed slowly. Bloom did her written homework before meeting Musa and Tecna in their room to work on flying, a skill that was basically essential for life in a tower-filled school. “No Flora?” Musa asked.

“She’ll be working on the potion,” Tecna said.

“Right. Well, let’s get back to work. Can you still float?” Musa asked.

It was another grueling practice, and Bloom ended up with more than a few small bruises from managing to get herself briefly a little off the floor before tumbling down. “My analysis says that your focus has certainly improved,” Tecna remarked as Bloom rubbed her sore bottom. “You’re able to hover for nearly ten seconds uninterrupted.”

“How did you guys learn?” Bloom asked as she lay back on the floor, tired.

“Yeah,” said Musa, looking at Tecna. “How in the worlds did you learn? You’re one of the most unfocused people I’ve ever met. I swear, you declare you’re bored every other second.”

Tecna shrugged. “I got bored and realized that I could float. That was exciting, so I figured out how to do it at will.”

“Aw man, I can see it before my very eyes!” Musa exclaimed. “Baby Tecna, bored out of her mind, so she stares at the ground, trying to make something happen, and then boom! She’s floating!”

“How did you do it?” Bloom asked, looking at Musa.

“Eh, I was running away,” Musa said. “I was just learning to pick pockets, and I messed up. I took a wrong turn and was at a dead end. I really needed to get out, and force of will helped me out.”

“How did you replicate it?” Tecna asked.

“Tenacity,” Musa answered. “It wasn’t hard to realize that flying is really useful and had the potential to help me out of many a sticky situation, so I forced myself to figure it out. Once, I ran into a known witch and I begged her for help, and she gave me a few pointers. She told me what I’ve been telling you, Bloom. In the beginning, you can’t think of anything other than the flight – not your position in the air, not the excitement of your new position. You’ve gotta build up the magical memory before you can even think about multitasking.”

“But getting to the multitasking point is rewarding,” Tecna said. “Now I can fly and think about my projects simultaneously. My next goal is to be able to use other magic while flying.”

Flora’s voice suddenly drifted through the air. “Potion’s done! Come and get it!”

The four other girls rushed into room 14K. Bloom was first surprised by how much light there was, and then by how many plants filled space. She thought she could even hear running water.

“How did you smuggle all of this into the school?” Musa asked, impressed.

“I didn’t,” Flora answered. “I got full permission to set up a potion garden in here, so long as I contributed to the school’s supply. I’m a certified brewer, you see.”

Stella peered into the happily bubbling cauldron. “How long did you say this will last?” she asked.

“Four hours,” Flora answered. “There’s enough so that we each can have two doses, if needed. Anything cosmetics or spells applied while under the potion will disappear when it wears off. According to the instructions, this includes, but is not limited to, tanning oil, hair dye, nail polish, and glamor.”

“Alright, then,” Stella said. “Let’s all take a picture now so we can do a before and after comparison, and I can show it to the boys so they know who we are.”

“The boys?” Musa asked suspiciously.

“I know some guys from Red Fountain,” Stella said. “They’ll escort us in. If you want, I can even arrange for us to have dinner with them!”

“Why?” asked Tecna.

“Oh, to be friendly. I haven’t chatted with the guys in a while, and while I can’t monopolize them anymore, I’m more than happy to share,” Stella said.

Musa scowled. “Years of living like I did taught me to be slow to trust boys.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry too much about these guys,” Stella said. “They’re real sweethearts.”

“Even that Riven guy?” Bloom challenged playfully.

Stella hesitated. “He does need a little work,” she admitted. “But even if he’s got a bad attitude, he’s definitely hot.”

“That adjective does not compute,” Tecna said, confused.

“It means that his body is attractive,” Musa explained.

Tecna looked blank. “I cannot claim to be an expert in that area.”

“Don’t worry,” Bloom told her as they lined up and Stella floated her phone an appropriate distance away. “Looks aren’t the defining aspect in a guy. Personality is much more important.”

“Alright, everybody, cheers!” Stella said, raising the small cup of steaming potion that Flora had just poured for her. “Here’s to a fun night of dancing and friendship!”

“Cheesy, but let’s roll with it,” said Musa.

They drank their potions in a gulp, hardly tasting it. As soon as Bloom put down her cup, a tingling feeling began in her stomach and quickly spread out through her body. She felt like she was stretching slightly, and her very blood bubbled. A rush flew up through her scalp and her eyes itched. “Is anyone else feeling really weird?” she asked in a voice that was not quite her own.

“Yeah, my entire body’s cramping,” a voice that was not really Musa’s said.

“This must be what it feels like to be toothpaste being squeezed out of a tube,” Tecna commented.

“I did just watch you grow six inches, Musa,” Stella said. “Of course you’re cramping! Now, who’s up first for makeovers?”

It took hours, of course. First, Stella cut Tecna, Musa, and Bloom’s hair, and then everyone had their hair dyed. After the initial cut and color, Flora and Tecna applied a magical tan to darken Stella’s bronze skin while Musa and Bloom went for skin lightening. Only then did Stella start on the styling and makeup.

“How does one put these flimsy pieces of plastic in their eyes?” Tecna asked, suspiciously examining the pink contact lenses before her.

“I can help you,” Flora said as she slipped her own brown lenses in.

“Stop fidgeting, Bloom, or I’m gonna mess up your eye makeup!” Stella exclaimed as she held her still.

“Sorry, I’m just not too used to this sort of thing,” Bloom said as she forced herself to freeze. “I’m sure you can see that I’m not a makeup type of girl.”

“Good thing I am, then!” Stella chirped as she did something fancy with one of her brushes.

“It’s strange being four inches taller,” Flora commented as she pulled on the gloves that went with her dress.

“Try being six inches tall plus four-inch heels,” Musa said. “It’s great!”

Bloom twirled around in her dress, feeling like she was five as she watched the skirt flare out. “I love this!” she exclaimed. “It’s so simple and classy and- and beautiful!”

“I told you to trust me,” Stella said cheerfully sprayed hairspray over her own do. “Tecna, how’s yours?”

“Quite appropriate,” Tecna said as she inspected herself in the mirror.

When everyone was finally finished, Stella lined them all up for a picture. “Say cheese!” she said as she snapped her fingers, setting off her phone’s flash. “Now, the boys say they can’t do dinner since they’ve got to deliver some things to Alfea before the party, but we’re to meet them downtown, where they’ll pick us up after we’ve eaten.”

No one had time to argue, as Stella swept them away with her ring’s teleportation powers, insisting on treating everyone to an expensive restaurant as compensation for coercing them into going to the fairy party. When they had eaten their fill and left the restaurant, they found a bright red ship waiting for them. “That’ll be our ride,” Stella said with a grin. “Hello, boys, it’s us!”

“Ah, Princess Stella!” Bloom recognized Prince Sky stepping out of the ship to greet them. “Well met, your highness.” He gave a dramatic bow, and his brown bangs fluffed with his exaggerated movement. She stifled a giggle.

“You’re so dramatic, your highness,” blonde-haired Brandon said as he knocked his prince lightly on the back. “Hello, ladies.”

“Let’s see if I’ve got this right,” Timmy said from the pilot’s seat. “Princess Stella’s got the headband, Flora’s got the curls, Musa has the ponytail, Bloom’s got the braid, and Tecna’s got the short cut?”

“You’ve got it,” Stella said. “Now, you’ve all met Bloom before, but these are my other suitemates, Flora, Tecna, and Musa. Girls, these are some friends of mine from last year. They’re from Red Fountain. The gentleman is Prince Sky, the blonde is Brandon, the pilot is Timmy, and the grouchy one is Riven.”

“Nice to meet you,” Flora said with a polite bob of her head, and Tecna mimicked her. Musa gave a curt nod as well, but said nothing.

“Well, off we go to the party,” Timmy said. “Take a seat, everyone!”

“So, princess,” Sky said as they took off, “How do you want this whole escort to work? You mentioned in your message that you wanted to keep this discreet.”

“Yes, well, it wouldn’t do if the Alfeans discovered that my friends and I crashed their party,” Stella said. “So, if you all could pretend to have brought outside companions, that’d be excellent.”

“Now, you ladies have one on us,” Brandon said. “How do you want that to work?”

“I’ve made myself up to mimic Prince Sky here,” Stella said, flipping her long, brown hair. “I’ll pretend to be a relative who insisted on coming, so he can escort another girl.”

“So how are we splitting off?” Bloom asked.

Stella shrugged. Brandon said, “Prince gets first call?”

“And I’m guessing no one really gets a say at all?” Riven asked crossly from the copilot’s seat.

Musa looked at him sharply. “Where’re you from?” she asked.

“Magix,” Riven answered. “You?”

“Originally from Melody,” she answered. “But I know your accent. South side?”

“How’s a Mel like you distinguish the South side accent?” Riven asked, sounding less aggressive than usual.

“Lived there since I was twelve,” Musa said.

Riven was quiet for a moment. Finally, sounding less crass than Bloom had ever heard him, he said, “We should talk some time.”

“Perfect, then you two are a pair,” Sky said. “Now, I’m already responsible for Princess Stella, but which other lady should I take under my wing?”

“Tecna,” Stella said immediately. “She’s unfamiliar with party culture and could use my expertise.”

“Your proposition has merit,” Tecna agreed.

Bloom realized that left her and Flora. She would have loved to spend the night with Mr. Swedish-Model-Brandon to see if there was a personality behind those good looks, but she had a sneaking suspicion that shy Flora and slightly nervous-looking Timmy might not make the most natural pair. “I’ll go with Timmy,” she said.

Brandon nodded. “Then I’ll escort Miss Flora.”

The ride was short and sweet. Timmy let them all off at the door before taking off to park the ship. Bloom walked with Stella, admiring the openness of Alfea College. Tall, slender girls, well made-up and dressed to the nines, mingled with young men in the military unitards of Red Fountain. Her patron had not been joking – the stones of Alfea really were pink. “I’m not quite sure what I was expecting,” she whispered to Stella, “but I don’t think it was this.”

“It is quite different from our current accommodations,” Stella agreed. “But let’s avoid talking about that for now, hm?”

Bloom nodded. “Got it.”

“Now, tell me,” Stella said as she glided elegantly through the throngs of people, “why did you choose Timmy? I know you had your eye on Brandon from the moment you met him.”

“It was for Flora’s sake,” Bloom said. “I have a feeling that Brandon will take very good care of her.”

“I see you’re point,” Stella said. “Now, you just enjoy the party and feel the energy, okay? It’ll be a good time!”

It was, at best, a decent time. Bloom was a book person, not a party person, and Timmy shared her sentiment. After Timmy presented her with a golden egg that melted into a flurry of butterflies, she attempted to make small talk with the boy who had managed to put an electric collar on a troll, but it seemed that social interaction was all together a different type of monster to him. Finally, Bloom gave up and was content to sit at a table with Timmy while his fiddled with his high-tech, probably magical phone-like device. She closed her eyes and tried to feel the energy of chaos around her. To her surprise, she could hear the air buzzing with warmth, like a happy, crackling fire, dancing about with the chaos that accompanied excitement. It really was different than practicing in a room with a cynic, a shy potioneer, and a genius.

As Bloom felt her senses stretching out across the party venue, she became aware of the burning presence of her friends, to which she had become attuned during her days with them in the suite, that stood out in the bubbly yet muted magic of the fairies. There was Musa’s sharp, crackling fire, Flora’s warm, smoldering coals, and Tecna’s flickering candle-like flame that danced with her attention. Stella’s open flow was also there, but it felt strange and dull. Bloom knew that Stella had been accustomed to hiding herself among fairies, but to feel that she had gone so far as to alter her magical presence blew her mind. What stood out, however, was the ring on her patron’s finger, the Solarian heirloom that the ogre had been trying to steal when they had first met. It pulsed with energy and light, and even a novice like herself could sense its power.

Then Bloom became aware of three other distinctive presences. They were strong, as strong as her friends’, if not stronger. One felt clean and cold, like a glistening glacier, one felt soothing and hypnotic, like a lullaby, and one felt strong and lively, like a happy dance. Somehow, Bloom instinctively knew that they were fairy presences, and she knew just whose they were. It was no surprise that the Three Fairies would be here, on their home turf.

Suddenly, the calm energy that must have been Darcy’s spiked, and Bloom’s eyes snapped open. She saw the beautiful Fairy of Night scanning the crowds, her hazel eyes narrowed. Bloom felt a chill in her stomach. Could she see through her and her friends’ disguises?

When Bloom stood up, Timmy noticed. “Uh, you can just sit,” he offered awkwardly. “I can get you whatever you want.”

Bloom smiled. As bad as he was at holding a conversation, he was definitely a sweet and considerate guy. Maybe he and Flora would not have been as bad off as she had thought. “Don’t worry about it, Timmy,” she said gently. “I just want to stretch my legs and show off this fabulous dress. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

Timmy nodded and turned back to his phone, and Bloom slipped into the crowd. She was not sure if she was fleeing or investigating, but so far, her instincts had yet to lead her wrong in the magical world. She found herself drawn near but out of the eyeshot of the Trio. From her spot, she could hear the three older girls clearly.

“Are you sure it’s the ring?” Stormy was asking. “Everyone’s wearing their finest jewelry and magic items tonight.”

“I’m positive,” Darcy whispered. “It’s distinctly Solarian. Plus, as hard as Stella tries to hide her witchy presence, I can sense it. Her new, witchy friends are also here in disguise. They’re not bothering to hide themselves at all. I’m surprised you can’t tell, they’re so loud.”

“We’re not all natural sensors in our civilian forms,” Stormy said.

“Peace, sister,” Icy said. “Darcy is rarely wrong, and we do know that the Solarian princess can’t resist a party. I’m not surprised at all that she’s here.”

“Are we gonna do anything about it?” Stormy asked. “She knows too much.”

“We’ll need to take it outside,” Icy murmured. “Once we’re there, cover is no issue, yes, Darcy?”

“Of course not,” Darcy said. “But there are more subtle ways to deal with this.”

Bloom watched the fairy look in Stella’s direction, and she followed her gaze. Something on Stella’s hand flickered, and her ring slipped off and floated away. Yet when Bloom looked again, the ring was still there. Stella, who appeared to be deep in conversation with Brandon, spared her hand a glance, as if someone had brushed it with their clothes, but noticed nothing. Meanwhile, the ring wove its way through the party, toward Darcy.

Now, Bloom disliked thievery. Maybe she had read too many stories with codes of chivalry, or maybe she was just a decent human being who respected others’ belongings. She also disliked people who stood by, watching something that they knew was wrong occur. So, naturally, Bloom had to take a stand against the Trio’s blatant theft. She slipped between partiers, following the ring as best she could, trying to catch up. She reached out, trying to snag it before it could fall into the fairies’ hands. Was it the best idea she had ever had? Absolutely not, but what else could she do as a witch on fairy territory who did not know magic?

A warm hand closed around her wrist. “Let’s take a walk,” the deceptively sweet voice of Darcy murmured in her ear. Bloom tensed up as she realized that she could not run. Darcy led her through the crowd and out the door to where Icy and Stormy stood waiting.

Something shiny glinted in Icy’s hand, and Bloom realized that she had Stella’s ring. Against her better judgement, she muttered, “Thieves.”

“Oh, sweetie, I don’t think you’re in any position to be saying such nasty things,” Stormy said, crossing her arms. “A witch shouldn’t harbor such a powerful magical object in the first place. This is hardly stealing; it’s keeping Magix City safe.”

Bloom’s blood boiled. She suddenly personally understood the fire that had fueled the Civil Right’s movement in her country, and why so many oppressed peoples had been ready to resort to violence. If they had been exposed to this kind of hatefulness for hundreds of years, it was no wonder that peaceful talking had not seemed like enough. And to think, she had only been living in the Magical Dimensions for less than a week!

“This is the second time this week that you’ve stuck your nose into our business, little girl,” Icy said coldly. “You got away last time because of your little coven, but you’re all alone this time.”

“I speak for myself when I say it’s nothing personal,” Darcy said with a shrug as she released Bloom, nudging her in the center of the triangle that the three of them had formed. “It’s just, you’re too curious and have seen a little too much. That’s all. You’re new here and haven’t formed strong bonds yet. No one will miss you for long, if that makes you feel better.”

Icy stepped forward. “I have to say, it would give me great personal satisfaction to be the one to eliminate this slippery little thing.”

“Be my guest, sister,” Stormy said. “I’ll be happy with a good show.”

“I’ll cover,” Darcy said. “Are you ready, sisters?”

Together, the three chanted, “By the power invested in me, by the sign of three, give me the power of a fairy!”

Bloom watched in awe as the three were engulfed by colored light. She felt the energy around them surge, and realized that the powerful presences that she could feel when they were in civilian form were a mere fraction of their power transformed. She gulped. This was not going to end well. “Don’t panic, don’t panic,” she whispered frantically to herself. “They have aerial advantage, they’ve got firepower advantage, they’ve got home turf advantage…”

Bloom quickly realized that her pep talk was having the opposite of the intended effect. “Okay, Bloom, think,” she thought to herself. “You can’t fight them, so you have to flee. If they feel threatened, they’ll expose everyone, so you need to escape the premises. But how?” Shaking herself from the splendid light which drew her attention, she turned on her heel and darted back into the party.

Inside, Timmy was looking for her. “Oh, hey there,” he said, waving awkwardly. “I was starting to get worried when I didn’t see you.”

“Sorry, Timmy, but I’ve gotta go,” Bloom said. “Do you know where my friends are?”

“Yeah.” Timmy pointed to Musa and Tecna, who both looked to be on high alert.

“Thanks, Timmy, catch you later,” Bloom called as she rushed over to them.

Musa heard her coming and headed toward her. “What was that out there?” she hissed. “I heard everything. Are you crazy?”

“They stole Stella’s ring!” Bloom whispered back.

“So what?” Musa asked. “It’s just an heirloom, and we’re in the middle of enemy territory! We need to get out of here. Where’s Flora?”

“Got her,” Stella said as she swept up to them, looking alert. “I told Sky to tell the others not to worry about us. We need to leave!”

“All the exits are monitored,” Tecna observed. “Teleporting will be flashy.”

“The ground is hollow beneath our feet,” Flora said.

“Because of the basement?” Tecna asked.

Musa pulled them toward an exit. “No, it’s deeper than that,” she said. “There’s something else. I can feel the echoes.”

“Echoes?” Stella asked. “Whatever, let’s get out of here!”

“What about your ring?” Bloom asked.

“What about it?” Stella asked.

“Darcy stole it,” Bloom answered.

“She thinks she did,” Stella corrected. “I wouldn’t bring my distinctive scepter into this place. Faragonda and Griselda would sense it immediately.”

“But she said…” Bloom was confused.

“A trick,” Tecna said. “To what end?”

“They’re after my scepter, and I wanted to know how desperately,” Stella said with a shrug. “I knew we’d never make it by Darcy’s sensor abilities.”

Musa looked sharply at her as she led them down some stairs. “What?”

“Don’t be mad,” Stella said. “Chaos is what we wanted, right? Well, chaos is what we’re going to get!”

“You’re insane,” Musa muttered. “They’ll wipe us out.”

“The earth is strange here,” Flora said as they descended. “It’s saturated with magic.”

Tecna touched the walls as they hurried along. “It’s ancient,” she said. “An old defense mechanism?”

“Great,” Stella said.

“This was your idea,” Musa reminded her.

“No, this is good,” Bloom said. “Our magic might be masked by this power, making it hard for them to find us.”

“Something’s not right,” Flora warned. “We’ve got to be careful. Tecna, do you have something we can use to look ahead?”

Tecna pulled out her phone. “Yes,” she said. “Scanning… Hm, it seems as if there’s a sort of tunnel system down her.”

Bloom felt a chill tickle her spine. “An ancient, magical tunnel system? This sounds dangerous.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s a labyrinth,” Tecna reported. “Meaning it’ll be easy to lose the fairies, but also easy to lose ourselves.”

“Well, it’s fight the fairies on their turf, or risk the labyrinth,” Bloom said.

“I’ll take a labyrinth any day,” Musa said. “I’ve got some echolocation skills that we can pair with Tecna’s scanner.”

“We’re in my element now,” Flora said. “The earth is my friend, so I can help us navigate as well.”

“We’re definitely out of my element, but I can light the way all the same,” Stella offered.

“I- I think I’m a sort of sensor,” Bloom said. “I could feel the three fairies up there, just like I feel all of you around me. I don’t know if that’s useful, but it’s all I’ve got for you now.”

Musa looked behind them. “They’ve entered the labyrinth,” she said. “Let’s move.”

Tecna typed on her phone as they hurried along.  “I’m connected to my computer in my dorm,” she reported.  “We have a solid location to keep us oriented.”

Flora gestured.  “I think can feel the forest thinning this way,” she said.

“Lead on,” Stella said, and they followed her.

As they crept through the labyrinth, Stella’s dull glow lighting their way, Bloom could feel the presence of the three fairies mixing into the magic of the maze.  Occasionally, a flare of frustration would burst up into her awareness, but it quickly faded.  With Tecna acting as a sort of anchor to their goal, and Flora and Musa as their immediate navigators, Bloom steadily grew more and more confident that they would come out alright.

“There,” Tecna declared, pointing at an empty spot in the wall.  “That’s our way out.”

Stella frowned.  “There’s nothing there,” she said.

“As if Cloud Tower wouldn’t have defenses against intruders,” Musa said.  “No, she’s right.  There’s an empty space behind this spot that’s not like the rest of this place.”

Bloom hesitantly felt around the wall with her hands.  “What are you doing?” asked Tecna.

“I’m looking for a secret handle of some sort,” she said.  “I imagine this place is immune to magic, so maybe there’s a physical trigger.”

“Here,” Flora said as the wall opened.

The other side was a hall in Cloud Tower.  Tecna marked the location on her map of the castle.  “You never know when something like this might come in handy,” was her rationale.

The potion which changed their appearances had been cancelled in the labyrinth, so the girls stumbled along to their tower in their now ill-fitting dresses. “It’s too bad the night was cut off short,” Stella said when they were safely upstairs.

“I think I’ve had my fair share of chaos for at least a week,” Bloom groaned as she kicked off her shoes.

“But hey, at least we got to hang with the boys,” Stella said cheerfully. “We should do it again sometime!”

To Bloom’s surprise, it was Musa who agreed.  “Yeah,” she said.  “That Riven guy, I wouldn’t mind talking with him again.”

“Then it’s a date!” Stella chirped.  “Good night, ladies!”

[allonsysilvertongue]

Gifted Beings

X-Men AU! - Katniss Everdeen had no control over her powers. Haymitch Abernathy faced unspoken horrors in his youth because of it and wanted nothing more than to dull his abilities. When they met Effie Trinket, she might just be able to help them by showing Katniss, with the help of other gifted beings, what she is capable of.

Hi! So, um, I watched Legion this afternoon which is a new tv show about Charles Xavier's mutant son and that gave me a burst of inspiration to go back to Gifted Beings so here I am.

Gifted Beings: Chapter 14

Outdoor privileges were revoked and suspended indefinitely following the attack. Haymitch watched children shuffled down the corridors sullenly, their joy and spirit wrenched from them. There was something heavy in the air and classes were more subdued than ever.

He could count on his finger the number of times he saw Effie. She was one of the school’s counsellors and the surviving students needed her to deal with the death of their friends. They sought her out at all hours, frightened from nightmares and traumatised from their experience.

He tried where he could but he was not good at comforting children as Effie was. Annie, Finnick and Peeta did their best too. Katniss spend her time brooding, staring quietly at anyone who approached her. There were times he wondered if she could comprehend what was happening around her. Johanna was amongst the few who stood her ground and remained by her side, although Haymitch thought it was an excuse not to spend her time comforting the other children.

“Your girl’s broken,” Johanna told him bluntly.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m trying but there’s nothing I can do right now to fix her, short of bringing Prim back to her.”

He had woken Katniss up countless of time from her own nightmares. Once, when he couldn’t sleep, he had walked past the infirmary to see Peeta on the chair next to her, speaking quietly in her ear and gently brushing her hair back. It had calmed her and Haymitch left those two alone.

Haymitch waited for weeks to see if the Capitol would stake a claim on the attack but there was nothing. It only served to increase his suspicion that the attack was not all that it was made out to be.

Every other night, President Coin would make a passionate speech about standing together and being united as one, and reminded the children of the enemy that was the Capitol. It was mandatory to attend these speeches unless one was indisposed in the hospital which meant Katniss was often absent. She watched it through screens in the infirmary.

“It’s propaganda,” he muttered. “You know that, right?”

“It is working well,” Effie replied. “It is stirring discontent and a need for revenge amongst the different squads. Lyme has been training her students harder than ever.”

Three weeks after the attack, with Effie and two other school counsellors swarmed and ill-equipped to deal with all the children, Plutarch brought in help in the form of Dr. Aurelius. Haymitch watched with his arms crossed in front of his chest, as Katniss had her first session.

“He’s nice,” Peeta said, standing next to him. “I had my first session with him this morning, too.”

Haymitch spared the boy a glance. “He’s one of us? Mutant?”

“I – I don’t think so. I don’t know for certain.”

“You like him?”

Peeta seemed amused by that question but he shrugged. “He suggested something to me, something I haven’t thought of in a long while.”

“What’s that?”

“My parents used to own a bakery,” he explained. “He said I shouldn’t … He said it is important now more than ever to remember who I was before… before Snow. It will help to ground me. I – uh,” he shifted on his feet. “My fears… They’re a lot to do with being lost… to my visions. I’m afraid one day that I wouldn’t be able to separate my visions from reality.”

Haymitch could understand that. How many times had been afraid of losing himself to the voices he heard and not being able to differentiate if someone was speaking to him or if he was hearing it? He had needed a tangible object to ground him and that was his knife.

“Dr. Aurelius suggested that I write down my family’s recipe.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I hope so. Recently my fears changed to …” his gaze darted to Haymitch and maybe because he saw Haymitch as Katniss’ father figure, Peeta hesitated briefly, “… to include Katniss.”

Haymitch didn’t press him for an explanation. It took a lot of courage to admit one’s fear, he knew that. So he clapped Peeta on his shoulder before walking away, leaving him to watch Katniss through the small glass on the door.

Where are you?

In Weaponary with Beetee and Boggs, she answered.

He let out a breath and trudged to his compartment. Haymitch pulled his shirt over his head, peeled his undershirt and let it fall carelessly to the floor. He took off his pants and stepped into the shower. The water was icy cold before painfully slowly, it started to turn lukewarm. Standing under the shower, he thought of Katniss and how easily she could heat up the water. She had done it before during winter months for her family’s benefit and for his. Haymitch had not seen her used her power since the attack, had not seen even the smallest flicker of flames sparked from her fingertips.

Haymitch ran a hand over his face, wiping the water away and opened his eyes. He sensed her before he saw her.

“You like watching me shower?” he asked.

When he turned his head to the side, there she was leaning against the doorway. A smile bloomed across her face.

“If I’m not invited then I shall just watch,” Effie teased.

He had of course locked the door to this compartment but like she said the first night they met, locked doors had never stopped her before.

“Come here,” Haymitch beckoned.

Effie Trinket didn’t need to be asked twice. She made a show of undressing in front of him while he was naked under the shower.

“You could just phase through your clothes, right?”

“Patience, Haymitch,” she clicked her tongue as she let her blouse fall from her shoulder to reveal her breasts. “There is no fun in that.”

He remained standing, watching her hungrily. His gaze tracked her every move, every trace of her finger. Her bra followed suit and then the rest of her clothes.

You’re fucking hot.

This wasn’t the first time he had seen her naked but he wasn’t seeing as often as he would like it with their time stretched thin between them. Haymitch licked his lips and raised his hand. She took it and stepped into the shower, smiling widely at him.

Haymitch was vaguely aware of her back hitting the shower wall with a soft thud. He mumbled a quiet apology before the rest of their movement became a frantic and hurried of desperate need. She came apart in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist and her breath hot against his neck.

I miss this. I miss the feeling of you inside of me. I miss you.

He grunted in agreement.

“It’s a miracle we didn’t slip and fall,” Effie said it out loud.

Gently, he let her down and eventually, they cleaned up. He had to admit that it was nice to have her work the shampoo into his hair even if she spent half the time complaining of its plain and boring smell. He took his time lathering her back with soap and punctuating it with kisses on her neck.

Haymitch had not felt this way in a long time; relaxed and easy in someone’s company, despite everything that was happening around them. That thought made him wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him possessively. Happiness was a fleeting concept to him and he was afraid – petrified – that it would be wrestled from him. That she would be wrestled from him.

She tilted her head to look at him, puzzled by his behaviour. She was still encased in his arms, her back against his chest.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, running a finger through his stubble.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on her shoulder. “Haven’t had a woman in my shower in a long time.”

She turned in his arms and kissed him. When she pulled away, Effie tucked a lock of wet hair behind his ear.

“Coin approved The Whip.”

“The what?” his brows furrowed.

“Johanna’s whip,” she said and explained Johanna’s long history of pleading a case for her own personalised weapon. “Katniss has her bow, Finnick has his trident and now, Johanna will have her whip.”

“I thought she has an axe,” Haymitch said, wrapping her in a towel.

“She does, the only thing left from home. This whip will be different. Boggs will bring it up from Weaponary to show her tomorrow. You should be there with the rest of the team.”

“Okay,” he said simply.

“There is something else,” she said and bit her bottom lip, hesitating for a split second. “I have been tasked to establish contact with Seneca Crane once again.”

He released her so quickly as if she had a plague and stepped back, staring at her.

Thoughts? :)

[iges]

2017 Journal Wrap Up

Decided to compile some of the most prominent thoughts of the year into one place to get a full look at how my thoughts evolved over time, while also pushing myself to continue this. it’s dope being able to see your own growth so tangibly. 

January

·        How are you doing?

Where are you going?

When are you growing?

What are you saying?

Who are you being?

Why are you creating?

·        I did not come to teach you / I came to love you / love will teach you

·        It’s easier to raise great children than it is to repair broken parents. But both are hard as hell.

·        Now can we fall in love with southernplayalistic bangin through the night? At least we fell in love with something greater than debating suicide

·        Family has taught and continues to teach me so much in the love and light of their company. I have learned most of all the power of peace. The power in community, how it builds for calm unity

·        “they won’t love you in boston like we do”

·        What we need are two lists. On the left side: This Is What Matters To Me. On the right side: This Is How I Spend My Time. In the middle, one resolution: to make the right side align with the left.

·        Peacock told me he loved me

·        "the difference between the successful man and the mediocre one is as simple as golf. If a mediocre man goes golfing and hits the ball into the pond, he immediately picks up his club and starts yelling blaming it. If a successful man does the same thing, he simply grabs another ball and tries again. Its that ability to bounce back" – Benoit

·        Talking about our parents and their lack of ability to understand a lot of mental and emotional health issues they've caused. "because they live on survival mode, and react by reflex. Like if someone punches towards you, you flinch. That’s how they live their lives. If someone punches towards me, I don’t flinch because experience in karate has taught me that you're too far to do anything to me." our reflexes evolve with our experiences.

·        And just like that I left for boston, he left for Hong Kong, and we’d see when the world brought us together again. Although we are both travelling, flying, free souls, we are never fleeting.

·        “At some point, you gotta decide for yourself who you gonn be”

 February

·        Bonds are elastic, allowing for molecules to vibrate with each other

·        It's like everyone's driving in one direction on the street and there's another road on the ceiling. And you're hanging from the car on the ceiling touching the people below you and there's the pressure of falling down into the bustle of the crowd below. So you've gotta figure out how to flip yourself upside down so you're in the driver's seat and driving in your own direction without the fear of falling. Until you flip your perception on its head you'll be stuck in the same position.

·        People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own soul at the end of the day. Remember that.

·        I continuously find myself surrounded by great people that push me and help me grow. Challenge me and believe in me in the same breath. It’s beautiful but it also comes with a certain pressure. Pressure to not let them down, while also uplifting yourself.

·        Work on this book, Gesi.

·        I’d rather die of passion than boredom

·        I don’t want to be famous, I just want my work to be.

·        Thank god, thank self for growth. For finally loving who I’m becoming, finally becoming who I’ve always wanted to be.

·        Art and love are the same things. Both grant us the potential to conceive monsters, or to breathe tranquility. It's all there. 

When they don't love you the way     you want to, you mourn that for however long you need to. But then you get     back up and you remind yourself: you are not a reflection of the people     who can't love you.

·        I have come to know far too well the tug-of-war that exists between what is important to me and what is important to the rest of the world, and the friction that may cause.

·        Which do you want: the pain of staying where you are, or the pain of growth?

·        I have to fight for this. Art is the weapon

·        “I’m tryna get like you” “I’m tryna get back like me too”

·        I read something about how raids are going on in Brooklyn for immigrants. I started crying.

·        Curated and ran A Day Without Immigrants. In a matter of 5 hours I was able to mobilize a campus wide event. In the midst of classes and meetings all day. This is what activism, passion, and sacrifice looks like. I am so very proud of you, Gesi. And I love you always for being able to channel your energy in the way that you do. Keep grinding. Keep pushing. Keep creating. You are powerful.

·        Vision keeps growing clearer but I keep losing focus. Gotta change my lens maybe.

·        “I see you changing your M.O. – Mode of Operation”

·        Clear vision. Positive thoughts. Positive actions.

·        Don’t let your hometown limit you.

 March

·        Sometimes you realize things about the people you love that you wish you hadn't. you realize that they're not as strong as or as caring as you think they are. They're not as innocent as your love for them makes them seem. They're glamorous and complicated and cold. Sometimes the people you love don't love you back, or they don't know how to tell you they do. Love feels so young, so reckless and so blinding. Yet it can be so futile, so restless, and so binding. I wonder if it will ever stop feeling this way.

·        Don’t have other people believe in your journey more than you do.

·        This above all else: to thine own self be true.

·        I really don’t care about most things or people but I’m also not inconsiderate

·        Tumbled out of space / crawled out the sea / it’s just love / boundlessly

·        I kick it with my soulmates. All my homies reflect my soul in different forms

·        Mind processes through entrance, experience, evaluation

·        “On the NYC boardwalk” piece, later named The Roughest Kind of Gentle

·        Doesn’t complain so she must not feel pain. Lol

·        “jealous of your confidence”

·        Do something once a day to remind this city why the hell you’re here

·        “never fuck someone you wouldn’t wanna be tho”

·        2 of my friends dropped clothing lines this month, 1 dropped a book and a clothing line, and anotha one is launching next month! Support your friends in their endeavors!! Support them the way you support big name brands that don’t even know ya name. be their biggest fans first! The people I surround myself with motivate me daily to keep pushing and growing. Peace & love.

·        I’m here physically. But my heart and soul are restlessly elsewhere.

·        Need to be stronger. Somefuckinghow.

·        Energy circulates. Tap into your network  

 She said I seek true intimacy in      my relationships, to have someone want to know and understand me while      wanting to know and understand them. As well as being intellectually      challenged

 Traced back my pattern in      relationships with men and people in my life to how I used to do so much      for my parents. How I've always bore so much responsibility and so little      choices. And how they've relied on me for so much growing up that it's      become habitual to help people almost instinctively.

·        Went to ahzeme’s the other night. So as it turns out, he’s been in a relationship this whole time and has been cheating with me. Why would you ever put me in a position like this without my consent.

o   One thing I will not have is you having me out here looking stupid. “who’d I make you look stupid in front of?” “myself. And that’s all that matters.”

o   “because I feel like I can rely on you for anything. I know you’ll always be there and try to understand and help.”

·        “thank you for growing and still tryna be a good person regardless of how people treat you”

·        Isn’t it funny how people always love a free spirit until that spirit actually seeks to be free?

·        She has her mother’s quiet

·        Don’t hang out with people who make you justify your vibe. Black holes don’t give light back.

·        You don't want people to understand it you want them to wonder how the fuck you're making it work. And you carry on. And you fucking be great – Skepta

·        Trippy. Intimate. Beautiful.

·        I want me first and foremost, and nobody else.

And sometimes I keep my feelings     to myself because I can find no language to express them in.

Because no matter where you run,     you end up running into yourself. Remember that

Keep my best work on top of me at     all times to remind myself what I'm capable of

 April

·        Guys kept following me and pri. Guy tried to put a curse on me at pizzeria. Guy threw a sandwich at me mike and alozie lmaoooooo

·        Impact investment

·        Stop going through the motions and start moving.

·        Don’t nobody ask me for no more parts of me.

·        Another kid on campus committed suicide today. It's crazy the dark spaces this school and its environment can drive people into.

My     daddy taught me how to drink my pain away. My daddy taught me how to leave     somebody. My daddy taught me you don't need nobody

And     I aint never felt no way bout this life shit do or die

Lost     my god tonight?

·        All people are looking for is a trip in me

·        Life feels like a constant state of sobering up for other people. You're always on this higher journey. And others are disruptions that you get carried away in

·        The world operates on energy. You attract

·        I have always been too intense for others.

·        Rumeer trusts me enough to rest. And because he trusts me I feel like I have to look after him

·        I wanted to write but I just felt so much. That’s why you write. Because we’ve all got stories to tell, but how many of us will write the book?

·        I’m not angry because I take the time to understand things and people.

·        My mind is a web.

·        The situation with tommy reminded me of _______

·        It’s my job to create spaces where people can trip out in each other and their own creativity

·        "if there's ever a problem and I film it, it's no longer a problem. It's a film" - andy Warhol

·        i am of those women who keeps the shame our mothers braided into our hair

proudly wears the guilt they have sewn into the very fiber of our being

 i mean i get it,

the culture should have overpowered any foolish desire i may have had

even if this foolish desire is love.

i get it,

ignorance should have desiccated any feeling out of my blood and turned my body to salt

to by washed away by these other men

these more acceptable men

i get it,

my heartstrings are healing and you wanted to ask the doctor to take reign of them once again,

because some self proclaimed doctor told you this intermingling of races is an illness

so you can't believe the miracle happening in front of you,

proclaim it a chronic illness,

wonder how long it'll last before it kills you

i mean me.

 she asks me where this fear stems from.

where this guilt grows from.

you see, when every part of your identity is not represented in your culture

you become a latchkey child of the cosmos

when everything you do is a disappointment to those that created you

you run for cover,

hide every piece of you they wouldn't want to discover

let fear and guilt grow inwardly and hover

let that become your lover.

because you never know what the last string may be.

and you know all too well

how disappointment can sometimes smother love

 so i am of those women that hides behind love like fake innocence.

approach every situation with ambivalence

but it's hard when you see this fighting for love as militant

don't you know you raised a soldier?

don't you know she's only grown bolder?

don't you know as much as this love is militant, it is just as much imminent?

just as much limitless, just as much divine.

and so,

if all you see is race

Then I guess we'll see you at the finish line.

 May

·        3:03 am just watched Mustang. Very emotional. Hit even closer to home than I expected. Need to watch with significant other one day to show them the things I can’t explain about my upbringing

·        I’ve been thinking of Albania a lot lately

·        I think of home and my tongue tangos with exhaustion.

·        He is truly one of the most beautiful pure souls I have ever come across.

there you are. moonbeams and     madness. sunshine and chaos. how did they ever let you not love yourself?     i remember the hidden logs, hushed and griping beneath your energetic body     as you squirmed and squealed your way atop mountains, atop sins, atop     convictions. the rocks barely able to hold onto your soul, so they kept a     piece of your skin to remember you by each time you passed them. the way     water wanted every part of you so badly it clung onto you hoping to fill     your lungs with its presence each time you stepped in it. nature wanted to     be a part of you as much as you wanted to be a part of it. just before you     fell and drank all of the water from the Red Sea. Red from your skinned     knees. i saw you drown and come back baptized. Young girl full of sassy     sanctification, the water cycle churns inside your body since the moment     you entered it, since the moment it entered you; do you weep still because     no one seas you? there you are. i sea you, my dear gesea. waterfalls and     wings. do you sea you yet? how did they ever let you not love yourself? do     you finally?

·        Everyday above ground is a good day

·        We come from men who do not know when they were born

We come from women who do not know when they came alive

If they ever even did

They came together and had daughters full of all the misguided language.

·        I know what it is like to not be from here, to not be from anywhere

So I make myself a home for these boys to grow into men here

·        My blue passport makes me american but most days I don't feel it / in new york I am more ambiguous than I am american / in boston they think I am hispanic because of my accent and attitude

·        I have enough pages to stitch them into wings

·        "as an artist you have to keep reinventing yourself," he said. "in a marriage, you have to be consistent. It's difficult"

·        We got that….silent and confused kinda love

·        “when your boo is an artist, the visuals they can paint is insane”

·        A genuine beautiful soul. A connection far beyond what I have experienced before. He brings out the childlike curiosity in me again. I want to learn everything about him and indulge in his interests while showing him my own. I want us to be our own people while understanding and loving each other's person.

·        I have never believed in time, but I have always believed in your enabling of it / I have never believed in time but it tugs at my flesh, as I am reminded of how to love you from afar.

9:22 pm spines leaning into one     another, skin symphonies, soft percussion sounds seem like silk as it cups     us, encircles us, we will write love all over each other, how often will     we write? In a circumference of pain, I think there is nothing else worth     writing, worth loving.

·        I don’t do this just because it’s fun. I do it because I can’t shake the feeling

 And I think of how they think.      How they want the earth to swallow them because they couldn't swallow the      woman they wanted whole.

 Te      kendosh edhe te creosh

 Ne      qofte se nuk eshte cultura, nuk eshte kenga, nuk ke se ta shikosh dot veten

 If there is no culture, no songs,      you haven't got anything to look at yourself in

·        And what is a black boy / but a spectacle / a shimmy and a shake / a shuck and a jive / a shackle and a cry / a black thing only alive to entertain  

And what is a spectacle / but a lens / a glass to look both at and through / a perspective offered through transparency / a mirror that often wants to see other people / a lack of recognition of a reflection / a disheveled tornado dissipating right before your very eyes / an eye of a storm / an empty space filled with destroyed things  

And what is a woman / but a bolt of lightning / a brilliant streak of light in the midst of a storm / a rippling silent strength / one just as powerful as thunder, without all the noise

And what is a man / but a striking of thunder / a booming voice in the sky / an accumulation of noise / always trying to be the most powerful one in the room / one that cuts silence like a knife

And what is a language / but a knife / a collection of different sizes, shards, and blades / a dual blade with a hardwood handle / its power coming from the tongue that it weighed / used to cut, create, destroy, build, spread, hunt, attack, collapse / a manifestation of thoughts made blade

And what is a thought but a string / a connection / a concoction of ideas held together by the balance of belief and knowledge / a steady stringing, building of connection

And what is a connection / but mist / intangibility felt / a fluidity that melts at hearts / at hands / an energy that demands

And what is love / but an energy / chaos turned benevolence / suns devouring forests / in growth and flourishment / one that starts at the self and spreads in nourishment

           And what is energy / but the universe

And what are we / but the universe

  June

·        Making poetry people can forgive themselves to

·        At what point do you realize your influence? Impact? How is this different from your worth?

·        What is your soul food?

·        I run my fingers through my hair, looking for the splitting end of a poem

·        We clutch each other moreso out of the necessity for warmth than ever the desire for romance.

·        This time bomb of youth

·        Maybe there is no such thing as a country. Maybe there is just gutted land and sharp teeth that have torn at my flesh for so long I’m not exactly sure which wound is the one I belong to

·        “no one ever taught us how to introduce ourselves…our parents accidentally made us emotionally impoverished. I think that’s the true lesson behind materialism: that you lose sight of emotional wealth in a very serious way that goes unnoticed.”

o   And so we ain’t all grow up the same kinda poor.

·        Anything you do, could fail. Everything you don’t, will.

·        Consciousness is an unreliable narrator. It speaks endlessly. It comes with many voices. Not all are to be trusted. Consciousness comes with a person. or several. They all call themselves “self”. Not all are to be trusted.

·        Be careful what you say in that it tells you what you think (of yourself).

·        A lesson on empathy on the 2 train

·        I’m strong. But I’m also more than strong. At times, I am weak and lonely and afraid and anxious and angry and silly and happy and defiant and bored. Sometimes, I don’t even know what I am, and sometimes I don’t know what I am in English – I can only explain it in a different language.

·        Think I caught a vibe

·        Poetet dhe vajzat e bukura, shpesh jane njerzit me t’vetmuar ne bote.

·        “you will always be my beautiful blessing from the east. And you are still one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

·        This book is really coming together.

·        I wrote my heart in a poem. It made a home of itself there. It doesn't pay rent. It invites everyone over but takes up the whole room. There are bodies piled in here now, expecting, demanding a space in a heart that never belonged to them. This heart is a tricky thing. It gives and gives itself to everyone but still stands alone. And all these bodies lay there, pounding to its very rhythm in hopes of catching it when it falls. But there is no room for falling. We are standing in the love we grant and give others everyday. It takes up the whole room. It grows too big for itself. It makes its way onto the pavement, breathes its fire into the city and wraps itself around it, taking everyone it once loved with it and made a home of itself there

  July

·        Did u get my vibes man? I’m thinking we are all going to be alright.

·        I am my motherland free from bondage

·        This is one of the hardest summers to date

·        I know some things are better left unsaid and some people better left alone.

But I still pick up the phone.

·        There’s a future version of me who’s proud I was strong enough

·        All around there’s silence. Everyone decides for themselves whether that’s loneliness or freedom.

·        Distance, too, is good.

Because you are far away

I feel you are very close to me.

Yes—

But what of proximity? Of union?

When you come near, then, my love, you are far away. – truth

·        talking with mike about the concept of love. Love is an energy in that it can never be created or destroyed merely transformed into different forms for different people and things. Love is chaos turned benevolence. asked me to clarify. love, as an energy, when left untampered with exists in its purest form. but you take an energy and put it between two parties who each come with their own set of experiences, people, upbringings, pasts, etc. this turns it chaotic. but the benevolence comes in when we finally see this chaos as something beautiful.

so what is love in its purest form what does that look like?

honestly, self-love is i think the purest form of love.

so the goal of any love exchange or experience is to love the other person how you would love yourself; in this exchange you are treating someone as you would want to be treated and thus are showing them how you want to be loved and they in turn should do the same. this is the most ideal situation.

·        And I think that's the really peculiar part about being in your own company is the urge to both stay and go.

The only thing separating me from becoming who I know I can and need to be is the hard work and dedication. When you really get that, I mean when you really see that Beyonce isn't unique, she just works hard; Steve Jobs isn't really unique, he just works hard, perhaps that is what makes them unique. What sets people apart is their hard work. Once you see that, you can be exactly who you want to be. I don't want people to be offended by my need for solitude. I just feel like I have to become what I am. And ever since I realized I can be exactly what I want to be, it has really shaken me. And I just can't go back to a time where I thought about anything but writing, anything but making myself to be human. And it's scary because once you know that you have to become this thing, it means that you're plagued with the voice of possible failure, but that voice is pushing you so loud that you can't betray your future self.

·        I don't think I've ever felt more alone than I have these days. But I've also never loved it more, loved me more. I can't run away from this. I think oftentimes, that's what we do in times of loneliness, we automatically run from it and in an inability to escape, fill it. I plan on staying in this space for a while. I implore to explore it. But I think that's easy for me to say as someone who's never felt at home amongst other people. But it's still for everyone, this exploration of the self. Maybe I miss myself. Maybe I've missed myself this entire time. Truth is, I don't think I've ever truly met her before--myself. We've flirted a few times but I haven't taken her out to get to know her more until recently. I think I am trying to tell myself something even I don't know yet. But it sounds beautiful so far, from here. I plan on staying here for a while. Damn it feels good to bask in the glory of your own solitude. Kendrick had it right, this what god feel like. I think it is in these waking moments of solitude and silence that the self is born, discovered, and furthered. She is trying to push me deeper so I can be fully, wholeheartedly myself. And fall into the person I have always wanted to be. Thank God, thank Self for growth.

I     guess I just never thought, believed, was never taught to believe I could     be the one to do it. I guess it's because I could be the one to do it. I     guess it's because I come from spaces that do not teach us we can be what     we are meant to, want to, be. Only what they need us to be. I never     believed in all my years and love of reading, that I could be the one to     use language to craft pieces and experiences that evoke and provoke. I     mean, it all started somewhere, right? People created languages out of     nothing and gave them meaning. Shakespeare created his own language     because the preexisting one wasn't fitting enough to convey what he wanted     to express. And some call that ignorant and some call it creative, but     regardless it worked for him. He did it because he felt he had to, to be     able to go on. He created something out of a preexisting thing and gave it     meaning. This is what it's all about, I think. It all boils down to     creating your own rules. I come from such opposite cultures with different     languages that my tongue needs new rules to express because these exist on     opposite ends of a spectrum. The space in between all these differences is     comprised of nothing. We must make something out of it and give it     meaning.

·        What motivates the artist?

What gives the artist her voice?

What gives the artist her courage?

Who/what gives the artist the will to create?

·        But greatness, innovation, I do not believe these entities are entirely inspiration as they are digging-- digging both into one's craft and into one's self.

·        Bless the child that can hold his own, flesh and bone

And no matter where I roam, I feel right at home, and that's the real shit

-xzibit

·        Sins of a father make your life ten times harder

·        Be the person you needed when you were younger

o   When I was younger, I needed writers—authors, poets, artists, creatives—so I became just that.

·        How can they crave the fire but fear the flame?

·        You never know how many lives you impact by simply just being there.

 Lesson: thoughts and feelings      aren't everlasting but everchanging. Remember this next time you're      beating yourself up over something.

I say “sometimes to drown is the water entering your body looking for a home”

And I notice so many men in my life washed ashore at my temples

If the body is a temple, why do they come here drowning in sin?

If the body is an ocean, why do they never learn how to swim?

·        I put in my 10,000 hours and then some. I lived under a roof that didn’t support my craft for almost two decades. I wrote, at bare minimum, 200 words every day for the past three years. I still do. I featured in shows I didn’t pay a dime for and others that I invested a few dollars in. I put my money where my mouth is and supported nothing but artistry for years in college. I heard no and all of its echoes hundreds of times. I earned my yes’s. I sacrificed eating and sleeping for creating. I gave up just about every casual friendship because I didn’t have time to bullshit. I couldn’t cheat myself out of any possible opportunity. I’ve been to hell for this, and I’m almost back. If you overlook me now, you’re going to look foolish. I’m building something that will be here after I leave this place, and there’s space in it for all of you.

I love you.

-Ges

·        1st trip: discovery & purpose (DAMN.)

2nd trip: closure & arrival

·        Today traveling is home base. But we knew this already.

·        Fuck the lines. FUCK THE RULES.

·        I haven’t slept all summer long.

·        What is your vibe? What do you dedicate your vibe to?

·        I am Durim. But in the best way possible. In all the ways you couldn’t be.

·        And fuck fame that killed all my favorite artists. All my favorite artists (today) keep themselves out of the spotlight but make sure they’re not in the shadows.

·        “you are just enough”

·        Book is published. (07.27.17)

 August

·        Sitting in the airport with James Baldwin in my ears and in my bag, and my own book in my lap.

Being able to truly disconnect     from a world I've known for so long is exciting me so much.  I wanna disappear for a while, and need     it now more than ever. I do what I need to do quietly and then make noise     and dip. And I love living life this way; having no one know what I'm up     to until I announce and release. It's great having people think you're up to     nothing and then surprise them. Now for the next few weeks it's like I     have to learn how to do things without thinking about social media.     Without having my phone on me all the time, without all the constant     pressure to post everything I'm doing and perform for an audience that's     always watching your next move, I get to fully enjoy my time back home.     get to fell the authenticity of all these moments of intimacy between     myself and my motherland. It's been so long. We have so much to learn     about each other still to this day. We have both changed so much. Even the     journey here is the transition into the change in pace and lifestyle.     While most flights are riddled and filled with reading and writing and     constant productivity of sorts; the energy on this one is different.     Watched the first season of Atlanta, let jazz sounds play in my ears as I     drifted off into the sleep I haven't been able to get all summer, and     rested for the first time in a while. Thought about how talented Donald     Glover is, how he is an artist to the core of the word, to the core of his     person. Always creating something new. And you don't always have to be     doing the same thing forever. It's all about what we dedicate our vibe to.     That was the lesson I took from my last trip as I embark upon this one.     It's all about what we dedicate our vibe to. And that can be anything you     put your mind to, you've just got to make the choice.

Albums that have defined my year:     DAMN, At.Long.Last.A$AP, Blond

·        For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m ready to go back home.

·        This is to say, there are parts of you even in the places you no longer consider home.

How do you know somethings before     you really even know them or are ready to? This kept tripping me out     during my last trip. I would think I was realizing something new     about myself or the world and then a random line of my poetry would pop in     my head and I would understand my words, myself a bit better each time.     And surprise myself.

And so I am awoken by a     breathtaking view of stars covering the sky, blanketing over the     mountains. A few hours later, the stars have faded, the sky lightened from     its former pitch black, but still not light out, and I am awoken by the     sounds of the rooster nearby. A call to the town to wake up and begin the     simple life they have always known as theirs.

This     is a beautiful place to grow up. But once you're grown, where do you go? (conversations with nuse lida)

And I wonder if there are any     other artists here awake at this time. Up creating to their souls content     at 5am. In the dark of course, hiding in the shadows under the stars. But     they don't have time for creativity here, they need to survive. Sometimes     it feels like that’s the only reason I'm still here.

I don't just do this because it's     fun, I do it because I can't shake the feeling.

·        A R T – Arrive Receive Transform

·        I was going to write down all the realizations I had this summer as I had them and got worried due to lack of time. But then I realized, once you realize something, it’s yours and stays with you forever.

·        I understand my gravitational energy better after watching my parents from afar.

·        I listen so much more than I speak here

·        This has been the most emotional trip of my life, for everyone.

 September

Do you remember the last time you     felt something for the last time?

Back on my "oh word that's ya     energy?" shit again

I am tired of raising men and them     then disrespecting me or acting like they don't wanna know me anymore.

Coming in with peaceful energy     this year. It's interesting to see how we've all grown and how sometimes     that makes people grow apart. I'm glad the people I keep close to me are     always looking to grow and prosper and find inner peace. It's interesting     how others switch up as soon as they've milked as much as they can/want     out of you. I am currently on the journey of learning to not be salty and     hold any hard feelings. He who acts, also bears the reaction they receive.     I gotta continue to focus and grow while they continue sleepin on me. I     promise you'll know about me one day and be mad you didn't earlier when     you had the chance.

I no longer struggle with my     mortality. It's like the homeless poet said to me "you can die     tomorrow and be fine because you put something of yours into the earth.     That's forever. You live forever in your creations" and I can't help     but feel so much thinking about that. About how big that is. And I get so     emotional. I've been thinking about death a lot lately. But I could really     die anytime and be okay with that because I created and concreted my mark.     And it's scary. And it's surreal. And it's beautiful.

And once again, I can't believe     this is my life. Whenever I used to think of death before, I always wanted     to be my own cause but was also too scared of myself and my potential to     ever do something like that. Now, I know that my life is in my hands but I     no longer want my death to be in my hands. And I'm no longer scared.

No     fear, what's stopping me?

·        Remember when you wanted what you currently have

·        The rage you feel? Listen to me carefully. It’s a gift. Use it, but don’t let anyone see it.

·        Support feels so beautiful. Wish I could feel it more often. Shit is breathtaking.

·        What is a win? A small quiet life? How do you measure that? What does freedom look like?

·        So yes…I’m really trying to write myself free.

·        “I asked God for it. and I got back ‘are you sure? Ok. Just know everyone can’t go’”

·        God willing. Your willing

I think this is what happened to     me this summer. For the first time in my life, I was forced to face my     pain in that I was finally processing and letting it go through the     process of writing and knowing I was going to share with others, that I     was going to articulate a pain that belonged to me and me only for so     long, but that I knew also belonged to others, and that in releasing it     out into the world I was freeing myself from it, and so many others. And     so I felt it more than ever in such a short amount of time, even more than     when it first pained me. And I think that is our jobs as artists, to mirror     Toni Morrison's shared notion, to free ourselves through expression and in     that process, free others. And this is the first time you truly see     yourself. It's such a trippy, crazy feeling, really. After all these years     of self-reflection, expression, feeling like you know yourself, growth,     after all this time- to not have known yourself at all, to not have faced     yourself once, to not have healed or freed yourself from all that weighs     down on you, this is perhaps the hardest realization to swallow and address     with yourself. To always wonder what it is to make yourself human, to     think you are in the process of doing so your whole life, only to realize     two decades later, you have just started.

·        These people really think I give a fuck about the shit they give a fuck about. Just need a moment of silence. Just close ya fuckin mouth

"It's just that every time I     hang out with you and I mean really spend time with you outside of just     tryna get in your pants. When I really spend time with you, you fuck with     me mentally. And idk no one else really does that to me.”

Rape is the reason I look at all     men as sexual opportunities. My father is the reason I’m numb to it all.     How the fuck do I combine the two in healing?

How do I disrupt an entire     culture?

Growth     doesn’t come in peace but for peace.

A     lot of people hate me because I love them more than they love themselves.

I’m     only out here just tryna impress myself now

 October

·        “life is a summary of your actions”

·        It’s all about what you dedicate your vibe to

·        “people are changing their perception of you quicker than you can process any of it” catch up and move accordingly

·        People are really trying to fuck with my energy lately

·        Art’repreneurship. I’m going to do this, with or without babson.

·        Self-investment is the best investment

·        I am an equation seeking its language, searching for its variables. I am steadily subtracting myself from situations, making alterations, building models, adding together messages I find at the bottom of empty bottles, dividing the self from multiplicitous absolutes, all while tracing my linear roots.

·        Short films as a trend in music is something I’m really interested in exploring and studying more of.

 I am grieving missing fatherhood      for both myself and my father. And his father. Ain't that some shit. How      does that not weigh down on you?

 The way my parents view my      creative career affects the way I live it in silence. I come from a      family of silence, I was raised by it, and that's how I try to raise      myself to the places I want to be. That's why I can't handle making too      much noise at once- I have to disappear immediately. But this is where      things conflict. I need to be heard, want to be heard, need to use my      voice for the power it is, but every once in a while am reminded of how I      never knew how to, forget how to.

 How far can I go if every few      months I have to act like it doesn't even exist? Like I don't even exist?      What does that do to one's confidence? To one's faith? To one's drive? To      one's dreams?

·        The place in which I’ll fit will not exist unless I make it.

·        “hopefully you can free me from this shit too”

·        “you’re in charge of keeping me in control”

·        “you might be just the right break I need to be quite honest”

·        “do you think drugs is a party of every creative?” “I think creativity is drugs”

It's been two years without you     gramps.

I can't believe I forgot your birthday. I can't believe I almost forgot about today. I can't believe I let myself get this wrapped up in this shit. Gotten so distracted from the real. Thank you for grounding me a bit more. For existing as you did. I'm gonna talk to dad today about you. I know he's still grieving every day. I know he's been crying today, in random spurs of moments. Like picking up a screwdriver at work and remembering your hunger for work, always finding something to do, to keep yourself occupied, to have something  to work towards, something to look forward to. He's been crying for you all summer. He made you and grandma a beautiful grave, lemme tell you. Everyone is so proud of him. Hopefully, you are too. Have you ever been proud of him? I made that presentation of your life, and showed everyone. We had a big lunch for you. Everyone was so proud of me. For the first time. Your own daughters never knew you sang. Ain't that some shit? How we manage to live these secret parts of our lives. And how sometimes, those parts are our entire life's purpose. I don't know how much longer I can live in secrecy gramps. I also realize we come from a lineage of abandoned parenthood and missing fathers. I am grieving for myself, for my father, and for you too. And for who knows how many years. I wonder how much generational trauma you have passed down to me. This was such an emotional trip. The other day, we went apple picking and orjada asked "did we bring one for grandpa?" and we laughed but I'm not sure it was funny. More like, one of those uncomfortable wow laughs. Like a that’s so silly but goddamn. You're really gone. But always here. Always with us. I've never seen dad love someone as much as he loved you. It's touching to know he's capable of such. It's beautiful and hurtful to witness. It is so many things gramps. This was such an emotional trip. I don't think one day passed without seeing mom or dad cry. Yet, we still live such separate lives. And now, you're no longer living in this life at all. Is there another one after this? I don't know how many more I can handle. I can't believe there is ever a point of just resting and peace. I'm striving for peace more than happiness these days, I think it's a nice adjustment. I think it's a growth adjustment. You're in my book, gramps. I wrote a book, gramps. I published it. mom and dad don't know. And if you were here, you wouldn't either. But I'm just saying it out into the world hoping someone will be proud of me, even if it isn't in this life. How do I make them proud gramps? How do I not let it kill my spirit? Is this all even worth it? People ask me what's going on lately and I pretend to complain about all this shit that isn't even real, pretend to care about these mediocre people. But what's really killing me is this secret life gramps. And the fear of them ever finding out. The fear of losing another piece of family, even tho it wasn't quite there before. There's not a day that goes by without me thinking about it. I went home recently and realized I'm so far detached from that place. There's almost nothing that draws me back besides devin and orjada. Mom is begging us to get married, gramps. I don't know how to tell her no, I don't know, how marriage ain't for everybody, how I don't know if I'll ever be capable of loving someone like that, how I don't know if someone will ever be able to love me in my wholesomeness. She doesn't care. Said we need to celebrate the new house. The one you built with your bare hands. You were so smart. You were so wise. You were so hard-working. You were so respected. You were so loved. All of the above still stands true, years later. You made your mark on that village, in cities, in another country even. I can only hope to continue to draw it out. I'm so glad you finally got a chance to rest. I hope you're resting easy, gramps, still restless as always but more peaceful. Rest in full peace. I love you.

"There's something about     making you smile and blush that gives me purpose. I definitely want to     feel that for the rest of my life"

·        How many soul do you touch a day?

·        I wear my vibe on my sleeve

·        F R E Q U E N C Y

·        Free cash flow

Free bands flow

Free man know

Ain’t nothing free no mo’

·        “I love you”

o   Something beyond language but not beyond notice

 November

·        Energy doesn’t lie

·        “you’ve got really great energy, you know that?” –from across the room

·        You know who a man truly is once he doesn’t get what he wants

·        Shared vibration / reincarnates conversations, maybe not had in this lifetime, but perhaps in another. Catch that feeling of familiar and let it uncover.

·        It’s 4 am and I’m tired of men making me feel guilty for the shit they do. Or the way I choose to live my life.

·        What’s a love poem but a pair of wings?

·        Break often-- not like porcelain, but like waves. So when you think everything is crashing down, remember that a wave must crash before a new one develops and rises.

·        Spirits doing this dance with one another and it feels like freedom

·        Every day I eclipse the me of yesterday. We come to what seems like toward each other, only to realize one of us is further ahead than we may have realized and ultimately comes to the forefront of character until it outshines the other, completely.

Writing always works for me, even lifts me out of     depressions. Because it is in writing that I (most) experience my     autonomy, my strength, my not needing other people.

Lots of people will tell you how     difficult it is to be an artist, but not many people will tell you how     difficult it is to not be an artist.

·        The men worry about her but she doesn’t stress any of them

·        Never has a show exposed me as much as She’s Gotta Have It has. Came for my whole neck and then some.

·        Content curation

  When someone shows you who they       are, believe them

   December

·        Fuller than the moon

·        Been doing a journal exercise where I go back into older months and look at the questions I was asking myself. Rewriting them and answering them in separate entries. It’s been a really interesting way of measuring growth and how I now have answers to questions I was once asking, wondering when I’d have them.

·        dancing vertigo around the centerline

i in my heart pour

too many people in line for the good life

too much aggression

40 degrees celsius (thats fuckin hot america)

my love for you is relative

i disappear and heal myself

i distance friends

i am a system to myself waking over gravity

i have loved and kept moving being a creature of the universe

whether that love loved me back or not

please expect nothing more

·        i mount the dissonance and dissassociation of this reclining northern hemisphere

certain of pole position and retro slack

certain of a silk view off curled road

the sterilization of isms and academic smirks

the mocking pop of business suits on a tuesday

i am not seeking a theme

i am not a font

these lines are not abstractions but concrete bombardments you are passing to fast over

hold a minute and watch this slow smooth walking

perhaps you oughta learn something

hold a minute and feel this gushing miracle existing for itself alone

i am in a good mood among meaninglessness

what does that do for you?

·        salvage my golden self and remind him hunting a vibe is something you can't discuss but if they cum while reading you, then fuck baby.

·        “Ms. Universe Juice”

·        “you’re a trippy person and people need something to trip out in”

·        You’ve gotta be careful who you pretend to be before it becomes who you are.

·        He tells me I remind him of his mother

Tells me he's never loved a woman like this since his mother

Tells me I remind him of her

Back home

Nothing but a trip away

It's not love that you're feeling darling,

it's a trip,

not a stay.

·        He buries his face in my neck and tells me I smell like his mother

Like memories from his childhood

Like times where he used to be held

Like a time travel to simpler times

Asks me to take him there

Wonders if he could trip out on the trip there.

·        You’ve got to be careful of the energy you carry with you. People always ask me why im so happy and shining and it's because the energy I carry with me everywhere I go affects everything and everyone around me; it affects the person who makes my coffee in the morning, it affects the person I walk by on my way to class, it affects my professor, it affects my friends and even strangers that watch from afar.

·        I need someone to stick around past the initial excitement. To not get blinded, shocked by it and assume it’s only temporary. I am always true to myself. Just because it shocks you, just because you’re not used to it doesn’t stop me in the slightest.

·        I need to be and feel like more than just a trip. Maybe this is the curse of being “too” independent. Whatever the fuck that is. No one ever sticks around for long/ long enough.

o   “you’re like the freeist bird flying out here. I thought I could never get a hold of you”

·        I don’t know what love is baby

So please don’t ask me now.

Love was a country he knew nothing about.

I don’t have the answers baby.

What you know about love? What love know about you?

Love knows me far better than I know it. perhaps because I haven’t taken the time and effort to get to know it really until recently. Much like myself. Perhaps that’s where all the answers lie—in myself. And we know this already. But how to dig deeply for answers within you, which you are too scared to face the questions of yet? But how else to go on? But what else is life, if not a constant state of searching, digging, discovering, only to question and dig deeper, in waves? If not a constant dissatisfaction with what already exists, a constant “but what else?” And what is the life of an artist but the constant reconfiguration of a frequency which seeks to create for the world, that which doesn’t already exist within it?

And so, what is the love of an artist but a constant rebirth of itself, the constant edits of a creation until it becomes an energy which satisfies both the artist and the world?

But isn’t energy always a changing force in our universe?

And so this, my dear, is why people are afraid to love artists. And though in denial, are even more terrified of an artist loving them with a never-ending, ever-lasting energy.

And yet, this is what makes my self-love so beautiful, so breathtaking, so exciting. I never know where this love will take me next. I am learning something new about myself every day. I learn by doing what I want and need to do to go on. And this going-on is what makes this love ongoing.

·        I think there is no better timing in how I’ve read through Another Country.

[colorfultriumphtragedy-blog]

modalert

Cleansing chakras

Chakras are very receptive, they know how to absorb negative energy. This energy changes the color of the chakras (they become dark) and their size. Chakras of a healthy person are the same in size (balanced) and clean (they do not have negative energy). The source of the negative can be an unpleasant situation or a negative person in the company of which you are, as well as your own thoughts. Another chakra can shrivel. This happens when a person is afraid of something related to what this chakra knows. If there is some obsession in the head, then the corresponding chakra swells. One of the simplest ways to develop spiritual abilities is to keep your chakras clean and balanced. Yoga and meditation are two powerful ways to cleanse and balance the chakras; I have an audiocassette (and a CD) "Purifying the Chakras"; This is a very effective tool for those who prefer to hear the tutor's voice during meditation. In the third part of this book, the reader will find a description of several techniques for cleaning doctor chakras and eliminating imbalances.

Etheric chains

If fear is intertwined in human relationships, painful attachments arise between people. You seem to put on a leash on a man who constantly says: "Do not change!", "Do not leave me!", "Do not hurt me!" These attachments are quite visible and tangible - you just have to notice them. I call them "ether chains", and most of all they remind me of surgical hoses stretched from one person to another (sometimes such a hose is stretched from a person to some thing that he is afraid of losing). Ethereal chains indicate serious violations of normal human activity. Listen to your inner sensations - and it will be easier for you to notice them. The ether chains create an energy corridor between the two people. A person on the other side of the chain will pump out energy from you, and it will not come to your mind. And maybe, along the corridor you will be sent negative energy, which will cause you severe pain - for no apparent reason. Those who often help other people are usually connected with them by a large number of ethereal chains. And it does not matter if he gets money for his help or not. Chains appear when the one who receives, falls into dependence on who gives this help. So if your best friend constantly turns to you for advice, you may be already connected to her by the etheric chain. Etheric chains often prove to be the real cause of chronic pain in the shoulders, neck and back - these are the parts of the body that are attached to those who suffer from frequent pain. The longer the relationship lasts, the more massive the chain. And massive chains spend a lot of energy. I often had to see thick chains stretching to the relatives of a person suffering from chronic pain. One day a woman named Samantha, a student of my courses in Melbourne, asked me to break the massive chains that, as I saw, were attached to her back. I asked Samantha if she had a backache, and she answered: "Constantly. Because of these pains, I even have insomnia. " I guessed that Samantha's chains lead to her ex-husband. They have uneasy relations, both have equal rights to raise children. Samantha immediately recognized that the former husband is her "sore spot". I called the archangel Michael and asked him to break the chains. But the chains resisted! This is a sure sign that a person is angry, does not want to forgive the offender or even dreams of revenge. I asked modalert Samantha to take more air into her lungs. Then I asked a question; "Do you want to finally get rid of the pain that is associated with your back and ex-husband? Do you want to find peace instead of pain? " She exhaled and said "Yes, I want to." After that, it was not difficult for me and Mikhail to cut her chains. The next day, during classes, Samantha told the students and me that on the previous night she had slept as hard as she had never before, and she had no backache. For the first time after the divorce, the thought of her husband was not overwhelmed by a wave of rage. In addition to physical pain, etheric chains sometimes cause chronic fatigue syndrome with the exhaustion of physical and spiritual forces. This happens when too many chains are attached to a person, through which people needing help pump out energy. If this has happened to you, you may have been frightened by the thought that all these poor people really depend on you completely and completely. Whatever it was, if their needs deprive you of the ability to act freely, then you yourself have fallen to the level of these people. They undermined your strength, which is always bad. To do away with this, mentally refer to these unhappy people: "The Lord will always listen carefully to you - as I am. You are strong, full of energy and health - and so do I. " Then ask the angels to give you the strength to say "no" and sufficient self-esteem to take breaks from work from time to time. Regularly cleanse your throat chakra - then you will have the courage to speak frankly with those who draw energy out of you. In the third part of the book you will read about some specific ways that help to break off the ethereal threads and "throw out" the accumulated debris accumulated in the chakras. Trying to break the etheric chains of Jennine Prolux forced despair; the woman was in a very unpleasant situation. Her fiance, a former drug addict, sat on the needle again. Doctors ordered him inpatient treatment in a special dispensary. This greatly shaken the financial situation of the young couple, and Jennine had to move to the groom's parents. When the young man returned home, his mother took up arms against Jennine: it was supposedly her fault that his son was addicted to drugs and that he had a relapse. The groom's mother was so furious that the girl had no choice but to move to her brother's house for a few days. Just at that time, Jennine was reading my book, "The Lightworker's Way" ("The Way of Ministers of Light"). On the way to her brother, she thought about the way she described the rupture of the ethereal chains, and Jennine really wanted to look at what connected her with her mother-in-law. Before the eyes of the girl there was a picture: a thick, slimey rope comes out of Jennine's abdomen and goes somewhere in the sky, then descends to the ground and connects with the mother of the groom. The vision was so naturalistic that Jennyn was frightened: before she did not notice the gift of clairvoyance. She imagined how she cut this rope ... The ether saw is easily cut with fringe of mucus, but under the rags a twisted steel cable was hidden, and to destroy it, Jennine visualized the chain saw. The fibers of the cable fell with a characteristic steel clank! Jennine was scary, but she believed that this was the path to freedom. She stopped when the last harness fell on the ground - it was the thickest and resisted the saw longer than anyone else. Then Jennyn pulled the steel scraps sticking out of her stomach and felt a strong pain: there was a hole in her stomach. Then the girl filled the hole with love and light, and the pain subsided. Here's what Jenna said: "The day I got rid of the chains that connected me to the mother of my fiancé and her fears, I gained true freedom. This improbably strengthened my ability to self-heal (I never dreamed of such), helped to detach myself from other people's fears and to establish myself in my own strength. Now that Jennaine and her mother-in-law are free from steel chains, respectful relationships have been established between them. Emancipation from the etheric chains and cleansing of the chakras are so effective that their beneficial effects reach past lives. Discussions around reincarnation still continue, however the fact that memories of a past life help to heal seem convincing enough. It is worthwhile modafinil for a person to understand the reasons for his fears, anxieties and bad habits (often most of them come from past lives), as all this baggage of negativity disappears. It does not matter whether you believe in a past life, whether it is someone's personal spiritual experience or just a metaphor - the therapeutic effect of such memories is still amazing. Cordelia Brabbs attended my one-day seminar on healing with the help of angels, in Edinburgh (Scotland). It was a deep intensive course of lectures on how to cut the chains and clean the chakras, calling to help the archangels Raphael and Michael. "From my chakras, it seemed as if they were drawing out a whole sea of ​​muck," recalls Cordelia. - Emotions just go off scale - in the end I burst into tears. After five days, she suddenly felt ill - the symptoms were like with food poisoning. But Cordelia is a vegetarian, she does not drink alcohol, never complained about her health. Therefore, she realized that this disease is not of physical origin: after the cleansing session, the stage of energy detoxification has come. Gradually, she felt better, and Cordelia was able to fall asleep. The next morning it seemed to her that with a soul like a stone fell. It was easy and joyful, although it is unclear what actually happened. Burning with curiosity, Cordelia turned to her friend-medium.