#DOG COMPARISONS WITH CURT

[johnslittlespoon]

I took my concerta way too late in the day (3pm,,, I am on the second highest dose,,,) and I am up curtbuckbuckying SO FUCKN HARD SAM

Curt getting dpd??? his tummy bulging out a little???? I’m climbing the fucking WALLS

When he grabs John’s hand and lays it flat on his stomach and tells him to feel he watches the way John’s eyes widen and grow darker, letting out a little growl (dogdogdogdog-) from the back of his throat as he picks up his pace. Gale growing curious and gasping as John speeds up, sliding his hand around Curt’s hip to rest on his stomach where he’s laid on Gale’s chest. It’s then that he finds out what got John going so hard, a low groan escaping Gale’s throat and rumbling through Curt’s back. Murmuring all sorts of dirty praises and sweet words in Curt’s ear and then making the ultimate decision to firmly yet gently press down on Curt’s belly and Curt fucking SOBSSSS bc everything is suddenly 10 times more intense than it already was but he’s actually in heaven. Gale’s letting out a never ending stream of soft words in his ear, John’s rutting into him like a feral dog (I’m never letting go of Him<3) and he genuinely thinks he could die happy in that moment

Sorry wow I’m actually fucking insane I’m so high but I had THOUGHTS

-@mangokittokatsu

OHH I FEEL ILL I'M SICK UR SICK /SHAKES PHONE/

the pretty little punched out whimpers and whines curt would let out with each thrust when john picks up his pace (the soft whiny puppy vibes in comparison to john's growly aggressive dog vibes??)

curt leaking a mess all over the back of gale's hand just from the sound of him groaning beneath him?? curt's hands flying out to grab at john's arms, gale's wrists, hips or blankets or hair, whatever he can reach when gale presses down on his stomach because it's so intense he's short circuiting, just needs to grab onto something??

the juxtaposition of gale's hot breath and soft words against his ear versus john's bruising grip on his hips as he ruts into him hard enough to nearly push the three of them up the bed?? the way curt's mouth would hang open as the breath is fucked out of him, back arched, so full it's like he can feel it all the way in his throat??

(gale remembers the pressure trick next time he's getting curt off with just his fingers and curt immediately shoots over his tummy untouched teehee)

@125hr ur post is altering psyches as we speak this is ur fault <3

[3-2-whump]

The New Intern

<prev next>

A shorter chapter, set three months after Escape Attempt Last

Heckin' big shoutout to @whumped-by-glitter for helping me talk out some plot points and develop my OCs' struggles a little better, you're awesome for that!

TW/CW: minor whump, pet whump, physical abuse towards a minor (mentioned)

“So, I come home today,” Thomas began, drinking and playing pool with his underboss, consigliere, and capos late at night. “Exhausted from negotiating with that upstart gang on the East Side, stressing about our loss of gambling revenue from our partners, and generally just on edge, and what do I come home to find?” The billiard balls clattered discordantly across the table, rolling around on their haphazard trajectories. “Khaled, that little shit, had left all the taps on! Every last one! My apartment, flooded!” He threw back another shot as he let Luca have a turn at the pool table. “And after I finished beating him black and blue, the only excuse the boy could give was ‘I was bored!’ Can you believe that? Bored?!” he complained.

The rest of the guys exchanged terse glances between themselves.

“Well,” the Boss snapped, “I know you want to say something, so say it! We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

“Fine then, friend,” Consigliere Michael answered, “You’re an idiot if you didn’t see this coming!”

“I agree,” Jaime chimed as he threw back his shot. “The poor kid has been cooped up in your home, by himself, all day, for the past fifteen months; we’re all honestly surprised something like this hasn’t happen sooner!”

“Nobody would keep a dog in a cage all day,” Michael added, striking the cue ball into his intended targets. Thomas winced at the blunt comparison. He’s not wrong, though, he realized.

“Tom, buddy, we’ve known you your whole life, practically,” Luca appealed. “Some of us even knew you in those years, and we still stuck by you. We know you got him as a sort of penitence exercise, but we think you’re smart enough to know it is not enough for you to just keep him alive.” Meanwhile, Jaime chalked up the tip of his cue, then leaned over to make his shot. “The boy needs to see other people, to have structure, to be surrounded by English-speakers if his language proficiency is ever going to improve!”

Jaime sent the billiard balls clacking across the table. Thomas sighed, realizing (a little too late) that they were completely right. “Well, what do you suppose I do? It’s not like I can just bring him to work with me, right?”

-

“Gentlemen, this is Khal, my new intern. He is going to be working closely with me for the foreseeable future.”

Khaled bristled beside him, feeling uncomfortable in the stiffly pressed black dress shirt and black slacks. Every eye in his master’s conference room was on him. Those that knew who he was arched their brows as they gave their Boss sly smiles of approval. Those that did not know who he was pared him down with their scrutinizing glares. He gave a curt nod, acknowledging the crowd of high-ranking members of the Organization. He replayed the Rules in his head as he tuned out the rest of the meeting. Lucky for me, Master only has a few: one, when invited to sit, sit on the floor, preferably at Master’s feet. He briefly paused his recitation to wonder just how much Rule One would be enforced while at work, with other people watching. Two, speak only when spoken to, especially at work. Three, speak English only. And the new Rules, he remembered, made specifically for their new circumstances: only refer to Master as ‘Boss’ or ‘Sir’ while I’m at work with him, and tell no one what I truly am. As far as they know, I am his intern, I was hired through a temp agency, and that is all they need to know.

“Khal…Khaled!”

He snapped back into the present, only to see Master –Boss, he meant –staring at him expectantly. His heartbeat quickened as he realized he zoned out longer than he intended to. Of course, there was the ever-present unspoken Rule, the Rule above all other Rules:

‘Don’t embarrass me.’

He gulped down the dryness in his throat. “S-sir?”

“Come on, I need to show you the rest of the office,” Boss said. Khaled looked around the conference room; nearly everyone had filed out at this point, leaving him dumbly standing on the far end of the room as the Boss gestured impatiently out the door. Wordlessly, he offered a quick nod and hung his head as he followed him.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

10 for the OC Codex for an oc of choice!

10. a description of your OC by someone who hates them (OC Codex here)

“V? Ah. The thief. The criminal. He slithers, he sneaks. I think, in those ways, you will find him favorable, Yorinobu-san.” Goro says evenly, “You share much in common.”

The plainly-spoken insults are vicious for someone such as Goro. Yorinobu does not flinch when he hears them, similar to how Goro had kept his back straight and face passive when he idly stood by his father berating him in similar tones throughout his life.

“You would do well not to underestimate him. I believe he dresses and acts the way he does purposefully. He may be uneducated and childish, but is quick to anger. I have never seen him wield a gun,” He pauses, thoughtful, “but I have seen him kill many, many men.

“He has no love for any corporation or higher power, but if it will help him, he will aid you. He will go to great lengths to continue living, the way an animal caught in a trap always does. It leads him to viciousness; he does not believe in loose ends.” Goro’s voice twinges bitter. Yorinobu had heard about Oda. Another serendipitous, accidental favor the merc had done for him. It made it that much easier to keep control over Hanako.

The death of Smasher, well. He had no fondness in his heart for the ‘borg. And Yorinobu is no idiot; he knows, in time, that Smasher’s allegiances would waver. If bigger bloodshed was offered elsewhere, if Michiko finally gave up her girlish games and truly made a play for the empire. It came sooner than he had wanted or anticipated, but what is done is done.

“Will you keep me here?” Goro finally asks.

“No,” He says simply, “I am not my father.”

Goro’s frown twinges to something of a snarl before it settles. Here, not being behind the plexiglass he is standing, his holographic form silent, but here, as in the backup Mikoshi kept underneath the Arasaka estate.

Goro is a brainwashed dog of his own. He balks at such a comparison, even if Yorinobu had been more like his father, he would have kept Goro in Mikoshi for eternity. He could have ripped him out, placed him into another, new body, with all of the hatred for Yorinobu’s patricide and ability for his loyalty to waver removed from him. He could have twisted him beyond recognition; he could have stripped him of everything. He supposes this does not truly scare a dog like Goro Takemura. He has already been stripped of everything a long, long time ago.

Yorinobu considers the Soul Killer process a necessary, but very temporary evil. They had found Goro dead in the basement bunker, his belly cut open. The blood had pooled on the floor, the strands of his intestines dark, pink ropes beneath his still hands stained with rust There had been no other way to get information out of him but to upload what was remaining of his consciousness. But Yorinobu had never entertained keeping him past the interrogation, not even for a moment.

Afterall, he had been in his shoes before. He knows what Mikoshi feels like; he knows what it’s like to be rendered into code.

This mercenary, V, is one of the few to understand. By Yorinobu’s estimate, it is only himself and the thief in this entire world that have ever been able to come back from the clutches of Soul Killer to once more occupy their bodies.

Goro bows his head. Short, curt.

“Goodbye, then.” He does not smile so much as bare his teeth, “Avici awaits you.”

Yorinobu says nothing. Before him, he flicks a switch on a sprawling control panel. Goro disappears; the lights cut. In the morning, he will take a trip down North Oak’s winding roads, and stop for a visit at a certain rockerboy’s villa. He has a mercenary he needs to finally, formally meet.

(Thank you SO MUCH ANON! this was a really fun prompt )

[scentedchildnacho]

Final Days of Dian Fossey

The poachers....the gorillas were vaccinated and illegal animals in that forest.....the poachers had to protect the paradise and remove passified predators...

Im from Wisconsin and I recommend that people notice social views of how to make small cow land...as well as treat cows like an agricultural animal so Texas especially if Hindus aren't allowed very large plantations with huge bull edifices stalks me like no other

They have iron deficiencies and their Asian parents just drop them off around me to fix so it's you have to feed her beef

She got called a mental her mother found incest so taboo she probably was over bearing rude lazy and an awful lady to her because of gay phobia

The schizophrenogenic mother appears to be dian fosseys emblem of achievement rude in speech inhospitable short curt won't talk much

Tries to speak beautifully in situations requiring humour and competence awful lady

So Aggie hurst she appears to have murdered the adherents the native peoples told her she could work with.....

Like trungpa rinpoche

Carissa accidentally killed a dog.....so she had to start looking very English....I have severe allergies to dog and I don't view them as native here in bad ways....instead of new and modern....

Racoons....rakunks you don't really have to do anything and there is not poop piles around

And dog like gorilla is something the most raped problems often confess having to playmate with and Carissa had a tribal complex to save the women

She wanted to be queer that way sad to see it gone

Its probably important because the pygmies were so offended by her assumption they let other enemies of her work kill homosexuals of aids....they gave digit to tourists

Uhm constructivism to create the American strength all sorts of appendages can be enlarged and african American women were thought to be the most raped so

She had sex with the gorillas.....took a long time to execute her for hating people

Billy the kidd killed.....pat Garrett finally killed Billy the kidd and his hiding house 100 miles away from anything

Americans though do have really advanced educations and most animal rights activists are noticed having too many problems with disorganized thinking....its that the states knew she couldn't function normally before she went and wouldn't prevent it

They could better fund mental health care and instead inspire programs to run away from little brother don't put that there

Rise of communist China they could get rid of private mentalism for allied triage spaces so people better learn employment in an immersive environ and instead it's torture or torture so

Chicago culture....the Irish figured out underground and how missing bereaved people could understand job instead of their missing culture so it's that simple she could have at any time been deflated as some bartender gang

That's me about pb the peace program there claimed it was our migrant leaders instead of Gwen Moore.....so it's im sorry but these first 20th century environmental emancipations like coka cola still provide better breeding for women because it treats bug bites not these creepy buy his farm.now oat programs

Its Gwen Moore that actually protects his forest

They weren't expediting the homelesses social security issues and getting especially the old into a boarding house that's not how those types of you were bad situations go

I would i would feed all the hungry starving students and not care if land wasn't ranch anymore

Ruth mas with people like Carissa....Carissa digit....

It took like full opening and removal of all 1970s history then a Russian like Carissa could finally go to Ruth mas

Vaccine students you don't like or identify with your teachers though in comparison to indigenous women...

You wanted to drink cheap beer with me and Lauren didn't you

[sweetiesshortstories]

Amor Ardentis the Beginning

*author note at the end*

After two years you've been promoted to field work as a detective unexpectedly, and you happily accept the position. On your first day you wait to receive your dog near your first crime scene. Every detective gets one, or sometimes several to make a team. Your boss, Sergeant Alicia Pete stands to the side with her arms crossed, her high and tight ponytail dangling down her back. The silver strands in her hair catch the streetlights and you can't help but to think how they contrast with her youthful face. She's wearing thick combat pants and a fitted under armor shirt, a far cry from the office attire you currently wear. The chill of the night brushes against your exposed legs and you fight the urge to shiver.

Down the street you spot a large van turning your direction and you straighten your posture while pulling your shirt taut, smoothing any wrinkles. A nervous habit you hope to shed now that you have such a high ranking role. Every coworker would be a trained observer, not quite as skilled a profiler but skilled enough to read you and your nervous "ticks".

The van's windows are tinted almost black and large white letters on the sides of the vehicle and the hood read " POLICE DEPT". It slows to a stop on the shiny wet road and a stocky man steps out, giving you and your boss a polite greeting.

"Got the dogs all ready, told'em they were getting a new handler." The comment strikes you as odd, but you don't remark. Plenty of people talk to their pets and other animals, you aren't one to judge them.

"Let's get the introductions over with. We have killers to sniff out and the rain is on its way." Sergeant Pete says as she walks to the back of the van, mist dances in the air like smoke and as if to prove her point, begins resting on the van and forming larging beads. The driver nods, whistling, and unlocks the backdoor. You move to stand by your boss and impatiently lean to peak inside. You're excited. You haven't had time for a pet in ages, and the thought of bonding with a work dog and becoming partners makes you giddy. What breed will you get? Will it be a boy or a girl? You hope they like you and take to you well, regardless of the breed. But when the door is fully opened you're left speechless.

You stare into midnight black eyes that are cold, distant, and they're on a human. A man. You can hardly contain your shock as you take a step back and inhale sharply. Sergeant Pete laughs, but it's not a laugh of humor.

"Didn't I say in my request that my recruit is new? She's never had a dog before. She can't have Leo assigned to her. He's been dropped by his last four handlers. For fucks sake..."

You don't hear the driver respond, you pay no mind to their bickering at your side. You're staring at the man in the back of the van, dressed in dark clothing, with a thick metal collar around his neck keeping him chained to the wall of the van. Your mouth dries and you move your tongue to combat the discomfort but your tongue is a shriveled sponge. He has circles under his eyes, light smudges of grey giving him a tired appearance, his skin is pale and almost looks like it will start glowing. He looks away from you and you notice there are other people in the van with collars on their necks. Two men and a woman, though they look curious and somewhat excited in comparison.

The woman lifts her chin slightly and you see her nostrils flare. Before you can think more on the strange behavior Sergeant Peter storms to your side with a huff, one hand on her temple.

"We don't have time for this! Leo, any games tonight and you're done. You hear me? I'll have you retired." Sergeant motions to you. "This is your handler for tonight. You'll be with her and if she even hints at you giving her trouble, the paperwork for your retirement will be filed so fast your head will spin." The man she calls Leo doesn't look at her, but he gives a curt nod as the driver steps into the van with keys in his plump fist.

He unlocks Leo, the collar opens and you watch as he unlocks the others one after the other. Chains slide and metal clanks on the floor of the van as the occupants stand and stretch their necks.

"Sergeant," you whisper. She side eyes you, still facing the open van. "I thought I was getting a dog."

"You are. You're a Level S Detective, we're not going after humans. Our dogs are demons, the desmodus sapiens, so that we survive to work another day." You don't have time to press her for more information, Leo is towering at your side and another demon stands at your Sergeants back. His hair is a striking blond and his body looks athletic, lithe. He catches your gaze and flashes you a charming smile, making you look away quickly.

"Hazel," Sergeant hands the blond demon her secondary gun from her left hip. "Leo, no gun for you tonight, your handler is keeping them both. We're hunting three ghouls, ladies!" She says the last part to the entire team and turns away.

"Tsk, tsk, Leo, guess you're hands-on only." Hazel purrs as he spins the gun in his hand and drops it in the holder on his hip. He turns and walks towards the Sergeant who's calling out the next set of instructions.

Each handler is to go off with their..."dog" in search for the ghouls that are killing young women. You and Leo are assigned the east side of the town and before the sergeant dismisses the team, he walks off, heading east.

You cast one last look at the lifeless body covered in a white sheet, and turn away, quickly following Leo. He's tall and his strides are large, carrying him away faster than you can comfortably walk.

You quicken your pace, the sounds of the crime scene fade behind you and the tap of your footsteps echo off the sides of businesses that have closed for the day. You can't help but to eye Leo closely.

You'd never been around a demon before, you knew what came on the news and what was written in papers. Neither source ever made them sound human yet every one of them in the van looked...normal. You're at his side and glance over to him, tracing his strong profile and shaggy black hair. His features are strong, well sculpted, and despite his hard expression you take note of his thick eyelashes and the gentle curve of his cheekbones.

"Is there a reason you're staring at me?" It's the first time he's spoken and the softness of his tone startles you. He speaks just loud enough for you to hear his question, but not loud enough where you can get a grasp on the sound of his voice.

"S-sorry." You say quickly, looking ahead. You want to act like you belong, fit in, but you're ogling a demon and can't help but to scold yourself.

"Huh, you really are new." You resist the urge to look over at him again, instead you scan the quiet road ahead, lingering on the shadows and straining your ears, but the only thing you can hear are your own shoes clicking on the pavement.

You were supposed to be doing orientation in office, so you dressed business professional. A fitted skirt, blazer, a white blouse and heels. You were shocked when you were instead greeted with a double holster and the news of a dead body.

"Sorry, we don't have time for coddling in this department. Set your things at your desk and meet me in the garage." Sergeant had said to you. You barely had anytime to take in the drab office.

You're suddenly stopped, Leo's arm is crossed over your abdomen. You look to him in question but you pause your curiosity as you take in his dark expression and narrow eyes. Holding your breath you slowly look around, squinting into the distant tree line. Nothing looks amiss, nothing sounds strange. In fact there's no sound. At all.

Leo balls his hand into a fist and grips your shirt firmly, with a yank you fly forward. You throw your hands out but your knees scrape on the sidewalk and a burning sensation floods through your legs. You want to cry out at the pain, the shock of being thrown to the ground, but you hear snarling at your back that makes the pain on your knees seem like a distant memory.

Looking over your shoulder and see Leo's back to you and his arms in the air, holding back a creature with an elongated jaw and bright red eyes. A ghoul; a demon that had fed on it's own kind. Their skin is a sickly gray and the hair that hangs from their head is thin, stringy. Leo has the creature by the throat, his other hand holds the creatures talon-like claws, and you can hear him grunting a command at you.

"Move...back!"

You listen, scrambling to the grass while your hand fumbles with one of your hip holsters. You hear the screeching ring louder and it's followed by a series of thuds. With your gun in hand you stand up and press your back against a tree, watching Leo and the ghoul attack each other. Their moves are too fast for you to follow.

You bounce your head rapidly, attempting to keep track of what was happening but they're nothing more than a blur. From across the street you make out another blur, the faint flicker of movement in the shadows.

The movement heads in your direction and once it enters the milky moonlight you see the telltale sickly, clammy, gray skin. It's eyes are set on you, it twists it head to the side and it's jaw cracks as it unlocks and widens to unnatural lengths. You grip the butt of your weapon and aim as the creature runs towards you on all fours.

You fire. It dodges your first shot. You fire again, and make contact with it's leg. It screeches, its jaw swings and dark saliva drips from the mangled teeth.

You fire again and miss.

It's only mere feet from you now, and you fire again. The bullet rips through its throat, blood sprays down the front of the ghoul and sputters choke from its mouth.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not on your first day. There's a sour taste prickling your tongue but you swallow and take a step back, flattening yourself against your support tree, then sliding into the small patch of mulch at the base.

Blood leaks from the ghoul, a putrid black liquid that slowly spreads over the pale pavement. You watch until the fingers stop twitching and the sputtering silences. For a moment you forget you aren't alone, you forget there was another ghoul. The silence is back in place and your ears are ringing with the screeches from the dead ghoul and the wet gurgles from its lips. And its eyes...they looked shocked. The human expression takes you by surprise, but before you can get too lost, Leo bends down at your side.

He doesn't speak, he balances on his haunches and you two sit in silence. Your heart is racing but gradually it settles as does your breathing. Eventually you're able to tear your eyes from the ghoul on the pavement and you look at the motionless form in the road, its abdomen and chest ripped open. You take a deep inhale, the smell of the mulch fills your nostrils.

"I did that to you?" Leo's voice is hushed, almost a whisper. You look over to him and see his eyes fixated on your leg. You lift your chin to inspect and see trails of blood from your knee snaking down your calf. You hardly feel it at all.

You sit yourself up straight and move your leg, a small wince dances on your face. At your side, Leo lets his knees sink into the ground and his palms flatten on the grass. His eyes are wide and glassy, reflecting the moonlight, and he lowers his face towards your leg, slowly. Inching in a painful pace.

You're unable to move.

You stare and feel his breath brush over your leg and the warm blood drops that stretch down towards your ankle. His breath is hot, almost scorching, like the air from a winter fire. The chill of the night is gone and the warmth you feel from him on the outside seeps inside of you. Your chest is enflamed and your cheeks are burning. His breathing is ragged, he closes his eyes and you watch his tongue drop from his mouth and slide over a pearly trail of crimson.

Your eyes widen and your lips part. He flattens his tongue against you and drags it further up your leg, slowly, a low groan rumbling in his chest and vibrates through to you. You feel it in your flesh, your muscle, and bones. In the milky moonlight you catch a gleam in his mouth and notice pointed teeth. Your gaze follows his mouth as he moves over to another thin line of blood and you watch his fangs lengthen before your eyes. The sight takes your breath away and your chest deflates audibly.

It catches Leo's attention, the sound of you being breathless and his eyes flick to you with the speed only a predator can manage. His eyes aren't as dark as they were previously, his irises look a faint red and black pin drop pupils were visible, giving him the savage appearance of an untamed animal.

He eyes you like he's ravenous and he moves up the length of your body with his mouth opened slightly, taking in your scent. Your heart is racing, it's thudding in your ears as he trails his nose lightly up your chest, his breath fanning over your neck. Unfamiliar sounds are coming from him, something close to a click like purr, and then, he abruptly pulls back. The sudden loss of his presence is startling and your shoulders drop as the chill of the night returns.

Leo has a tight fist over his mouth, he turns away sharply.

"Go back to the van and call the sergeant." He hisses.

"What? What about you?" You do your best to steady your voice but there's a hint of faintness.

"You need to go. I can't...be around blood. I'll watch your back but you need to go. Now."

What he says does something to you, it has an effect that's almost ailing and you don't know why. There's a pang in your chest and slowly you stand to your feet with your eyes downcast, then walk away without another word.

You don't bother looking back or checking to see if he's really behind you, you feel almost too embarrassed to. Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you say anything? And why did you care so much when he deduced his actions to a weakness for blood?

The van comes into view and as you approach you see the sergeant standing with Hazel and the driver. When the sergeant spots you she walks away from the two men and flicks her chin towards you in question as she looks behind you.

"He's coming. We encountered two ghouls." You say in a controlled tone.

"No shit! Two? That should be all of them, right boss?" Hazel remarks as he walks over to join you two. When you look closer at the sergeant and Hazel, you notice blood splatter on their clothes and a few specks on their faces.

With one last look around you holster your gun and cross your arms across your stomach. Hazel pulls out his phone but pauses his gesture midair as his pupils contract. His distant gaze shifts to you and drops down your form until he sees your bloody knee, and he turns abruptly.

"I-I'm gonna call Leo and see if he's good." He mumbles, but Leo appears, like magic. He drops down from the sky and it catches you off guard, making you jump back and stare questioningly up to the roof of the theater. How did he get up there without anyone hearing anything? Or seeing anything?

He has the ghouls in tow, one on each shoulder. He lets the bodies fall to the ground and tilts his head, cracking his neck.

"No need. I'm here." He looks collected, nothing like he did moments before when you two were alone.

"Wow, look at that." Sergeant Pete scoffs lightly. "I guess I stand corrected on you two working together. Unless something happened I don't know about." She's eyeing you both, but you especially. Her brow raises, as if she's daring you to lie to her.

"Nothing at all." You say. "He got the first one, I wasted a few bullets but took the second one down." Her gaze lingers on you, her icy blue eyes intently peer into your brown ones, then they slide over to Leo.

"Aright then," Sergeant says slowly. "Then perhaps this team up works after all." She turns away and Leo steps forward.

"Sergeant," she looks over her shoulder and with wide eyes you stare at Leo. "That's not entirely what happened." The sergeant turns back around with one slender brow raised.

"Oh?" She pushes, crossing her arms. But something inside is telling you to stop what's about to happen.

"He's being dramatic," you say, stepping just ahead of Leo into your Sergeants line of sight. You gesture to your leg which Sergeant Pete acknowledges with a tight forehead.

"Did he touch you?" She demands.

"No!" You answer quickly. Your voice echoes in the night and catches the attention of Hazel and the driver. "I mean, he pushed me out of the way because a ghoul was approaching at my rear. I banged my knee. That's it. He feels guilty for pushing me is all."

You had never lied to a superior before. Ever. The urge to do so in that moment was confusing, but inescapable. You didn't even question it. You feel Leo's stare but keep your focus on Sergeant Pete with your face relaxed. She slides her eyes over to Leo and gives him once over.

"Is she telling the truth, Leo?"

"Yes." He doesn't hesitate and you're grateful. Your shoulders relax slightly just as your sergeant turns her attention back to you.

"I want the reports on my desk by tomorrow morning." She turns away and walks towards her car to call off the search, leaving you and Leo by the deceased ghouls.

"Well, now we've both lied to the sergeant." He says in his soft tone. You glance over to Leo and the sensation of his tongue caressing your skin invades your senses when you make eye contact. Afraid he could see your thoughts in your eyes you look away and cross your arms over your stomach.

"I'd rather not be known as the detective that was licked by her partner on her first day, thank you." You reply haughtily.

"I'm not your partner; I'm your dog. Don't let the other detectives hear you refer to me any other way." He walks towards the van before you can respond and you drop eyes to the pile of ghouls growing cold at your feet.

Author: Thank you to everyone that reads, reblogs, comments, messages, it's so appreciated. This is one of my vampire concepts that's been in my written drafts for a long time. I've always wanted to explore it and since it was so well received and I am STILL (❤️) receiving DM's requesting more, I decided to add additional context. How I envision them meeting. I don't experiment often with second person but I'm thrilled changing my first person perspective paid off so well. If anyone's interested in exploring these characters and their world more, don't hesitate to let me know!

Hugs and kisses to you all

[shesawriter39049]

|PRIVATE SHOW|M|

Pairing: Taehyung X Reader

SMUT/LIGHT ANGST

About-Just a casual lunch outing where Tae’s trying to do his job and your trying to get him off under the table with your shoe...nothing new!

OR- Tae and yourself are grabbing lunch at 71 Above, after checking out the last couple of venues for the company's end of the year Holiday party. While at said restaurant, it becomes a humbling reminder that the most important people in your life are essentially a secret...cute!

WC:5k

WARNINGS: Public sex -ish( A foot-job under the table) dirty talk, teasing, light edging, frontage (kinda), overstimulation, Tae comes in his YSL leather pants, mentions of Oral (Male receiving), Tae is somewhat submissive, whilst also being a little shit. “Baby boy/Good boy” Kink

DNA Era Tae meets 2020 Tae

Tae is her baby and also her Executive Assistant

He just wants to hold her hand tbh

NOTE: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with! P.S. If you’re new here Kookie joins the party a little later….

_________________________________________________________

“So” Musing over your cocktail glass “Thoughts on the last place?”

Eyeing the man sitting across from you intently who’s clearly in the holiday spirit. Dressed in a deep red silk button-down, apparently, he’s taken a page out of Jimin’s book considering it’s barely buttoned, to begin with! Honestly, he’d be better off not even wearing one at all at this rate.

Smoky silver locks messily styled out of his face showcasing those bushy yet sculpted brows of his. One of your favorite past times has become watching Tae become more confident as he grows into himself. No longer finding the need to hide behind his long shaggy bangs, though you can’t; lie, you do kinda miss him looking like the puppy he truly is deep down. However this, version of Tae just hits different, your baby boy looks like a whole ass man and you’ll never get over it!

God the things you endlessly wanna do to him…..even after all these years....

You watch Tae sigh almost miserably over a mouthful of lobster mac which seems completely out of place considering the way the dish in question smells…“Honestly?”

Offering a curt nod, encouraging him to continue as you welcome yourself to his plate! The amount of cheese that’s trickling from your fork is actually disrespectful!

“It was cute, I liked how big the lot is, and more importantly how spaced out the spots are! You know how rich people get about people being too close to the damn cars!” Rolling his eyes as if he in he’s excluded from that category and you can’t help but scoff.

“Tae you technically are one of those people at this point. Just like...yesterday actually, you almost ripped Jackson’s balls off for bumping into your rearview mirror but carry on.” Flicking your fork in his direction, ignoring the sharp glare he sent your way in the process.

This time around I think both of his eyes managed to roll in different directions, again, Jimin’s wearing off on him! “Anyway, yeah, I don’t know, I liked the space, the exposed brick beams in the ceiling was cool. Kinda gave it a homey vibe which is fitting….”

You could hear it hanging off his tongue, he sounds very, “meh” about it, so you opt fil in the blank. “Butttt??”

“Butttt, I -It felt like...like I was forcing myself to like it…” Slouching down into his seat, features a little uneasy, as if him not liking the venue was a direct insult to the owner personally! You on the other hand you let out a bated breath that you weren’t even aware was being held, eyes wide shining with relief.

“Oh thank fuck” Hand slamming down absently along the table, “I thought it was just me, and I felt like such an ass too because-”

“They were so sweet” Came in unison, both of you almost cooing as you said it! Hands placed dramatically over your heart as you reclined against your chair.

“So sweet,” Tae parroted in a light pout,”I mean they were literally wearing matching loafers Y/n. Matching” Idly jading a fork into his side salad in a way that’s borderline concerning actually, a tad bit aggressive over there!

” But it just-I don’t know, I guess will always think like those broke college kids at heart” Flashing you a brief glowing smile that you can’t help but return, humming in agreeance.

“Which isn’t a bad thing, per say, the mentality definitely keeps us humbled! But there’s time and place for that attitude and honestly I just wasn’t feelin it! At least not in comparison to the others we’ve seen, it wasn’t fighting the vibe were going for. Regardless of how good the offer is” Shrugging over another mouth full of food and you there’s not much else for you to say because that was your consensus exactly.

Basically, once the two of you showed up, the cute little husband and wife duo offered you a deal which would essentially consist of them renting you the space for next to nothing. In exchange, they’d want you to post a couple of ads via your company and personal social media accounts as promo. Your initial thought outside of just thinking they were utterly adorable was how much money you’d save...but as Tae said, thankfully that’s not really a concern anymore, if you wanted you can get it!

Easily…discounts and barters aside, just a flick of the wrist and it’s yours!

“True, also can we just take a moment to talk about how aesthetically pleasing the Valentine was though?” Tossing your head back with a dramatic groan “I mean fuck you already know the way I feel about industrial spaces, the high, glass ceiling, all the greenery..” Eyes rolling to the back of your head with a slight moan…as you envision the space. Especially how moody and sexy the overall venue would look with thousands of lights cascading from the glass ceilings.

Clearly the venue was doing ....a lot for you right now!

Brow cocked at the blatant...enthusiasm surrounding the location in question “Mmm, well that’s something...interesting to add to the kink list, just when I thought I’d explored every avenue, but apparently not.” Voice low, teasing, head cocked to the side, a shit eating grin plastered along his lips, as he swirls his tongue along the tip of his straw in a way that’s……

“ I guess we’re adding “industrial spaces” to the list. Noted.” Smirking around his drink like the little shit he is!

Right, you may or may not have crossed your legs at the sudden drawl laced within his delivery but not before, kicking his shin with the tip of your heel, “You little shit” Rolling your eyes at the way he dramatically rubs the side of his leg, hitting you with straight puppy dog eyes as he pouts over at you as if you actually caused serious damage!.

Leaning forward a little so you don't have to try as hard to whisper, the notion has your breast essentially sitting on top of the table. Not that they weren’t already on full display in your dress or anything. Hand slipping beneath the table, landing on his kneecap. “What? Suddenly you don’t like a little pain?” Tone blatantly teasing whilst ghosting your nails agonizingly slow up his inner thigh, and his entire body goes rigid at the sensation. Tae’s always been extremely...

“God, your still so sensetive....” You weren’t intending for that to come out in the form of a moan but considering the one that fell from his lips in return...you ain’t mad about it! 100% dialed in to the way his eyes are fluttering, jaw tight, trying his damndest to play it cool, especially once the waitress makes eye contact silently asking if the two of you need anything. “Takes so little Hmm?”’

Flashing him a quick smile, waving her off for the time being, far too focused on another task to entertain anyone else right now!  Only stopping your ministrations once your fingers land right beneath his balls.

“This place is very well lit, I like the hue, it’s casting a good soft-light, especially the way it’s bouncing off your complexion...” Eyes cascading against the ceiling, tone casual, until your eyes drop....

“You’d look so fuckin good, coming for me right now...” The words purr off your tongue, flashing him a cheeky little wink, and poor Taehyung chokes on his martini!

“You know how much you love being watched...I could have you making a mess all over yourself and no one would even know. ” Not even trying to hide the smirk playing on your lips when you can already feel the tension in the room rise. “My own little private show...” Eyes wicked as your fingers wander a little higher, gently pressing your palm down around his dick. Rubbing tauntingly, the touch isn't enough through the thick leather, however it does instantly make his length swell in the confines of his pants! We all know this….underwear is nonexistent in Tae’s world! “Kinda brings me back to our college days...” Teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the mere memory...you getting Tae off whilst in the lecture hall full of 300 plus students. 

Regardless of the deer in headlights look flashing across his face his legs still spread apart, hips bucking forward because well as we just said...baby boy loves being watched. This however, prompts you to once again change positions, now digging your nails into the back of his thighs before letting the tips of your fingers tickle free. Coly bringing them back above surface to take another languid  sip of your drink, tossing a strand of hair over your shoulder.

Ya know, I can’t say you’re surprised by his reaction, baby boy can dish it but sure can’t take it, neck and chest flushing to rival his shirt! Banging on his sternum in an attempt to reroute the liquor burning his lungs.

“Jesus-fuc-Y/n!” You have the nerve to hum inquisitively, only this time for his sanity he humors you! “Can you like not go from asulting me to-” Looking over his shoulder before dropping his voice down to a whisper “Stroking my dick, and offering to get me off under the table, all in the span of a nanosecond!?” The plea hissed through clenched teeth but the complaint was half hearted at most! Well aware his dicks already throbbing in his pants at the thought alone! “Fuck me” Sucking in a harsh breath, as he raked his fingers through his scalp.

“Well…” Tonguing at your inner cheek, eyes fluttering away as if you were in deep thought… “In my defense you kinda started it, bringing up my kink list like I don’t own a whole ass porn company!” Propping your chin on your palm, gaze locked and loaded “Like I wasn’t thinking about tainting that sweet innocent couple by letting them watch as I dropped to my knees, letting you fuc-”

“Y/n!” He actually attempts to sound almost applauded, like he doesn’t love how absolutely filthy your mouth is. However there’s a silent little “please” playing on his tongue, no matter how threatening he tried to sound.

You giggled, straight up giggled, reclining in your seat, amused, and somewhat satisfied so you let him be, for the time being anyway. Though you may have eaten your angel hair pasta in a very obscene manner, every now and then you’d sinfully suck the noodles through your overly glossed lips! However, if he dared to clock you on it you’d just simply note that it was your way of not messing up your makeup….

The two of you finish your lunch in comfortable silence, making small talk here and there, a mixture of work and bullshit until Tae’s phone goes off with a couple text notifications.

A low hum rattling in the back of his throat as he eyes the message from Hoseok. Subconsciously Tae reaches across the table, intertwining your fingers before bringing your knuckles up to his lips. Grazing them with his lips casually as he scrolls through his phone.

“Alright  baby, so, I have a list ready, we have a couple brands that wanna work with us for the party. Seoks already narrowed it down to the ones that are actually worth discussing however-“

Honestly, it took both of you a minute to even realize what was going on, the skinship was second nature at this point. It wasn’t until his thumb grazed over your wedding band that the notion even resonated! Tae and yourself were a good two drinks in, feelin all warm and fuzzy and got caught up in the moment! Temporarily forgetting that you were in the middle of a restaurant in Downtown LA! Forgetting that the Kim currently caressing your knuckles and calling you baby is not the one you're technically married to! It may seem minor in retrospect, but you’ve always tried to stop yourselves from getting comfortable, with being comfortable in certain locations if that makes sense! You slip up one to many times and the next thing you know it happening in the office or on the red carpet!

Taehyung’s eyes grow almost comically wide, straight panic flashes over those big brown orbs of his and your heart sinks as you watch his head whip around, checking to make sure no one caught the interaction. It was almost painful how quickly he disconnected from you as his entire face dropped and no, just no!

“Hey...hey no it’s fine, it’s like 2 in the afternoon on a Tuesday! Not to mention we’re tucked in a booth in the corner ,we’re good, nobody heard or saw you…” Voice calm and quiet, trying to come off comforting, flashing him a weary smile. Reaching across the table to thumb at his palm, and it would be a lie to say you didn't also check over your shoulder before hand as well’

A dry almost bitter chuckle leaves his throat as he flinches away, tossing the fork down on his plate sliding it halfway across the table indicating he is more than done eating. Flicking the bridge of his nose with his index finger, jaw twitching, “Yeah, lucky me huh? I actually got to hold your hand for all of two seconds before we realized I’m techionally not allowed to do that unless were in fuckin I don’t know Alaska!” 

He’s agitated, and with every right to be, even if he is being a little dramatic. Thankfully he’s keeping his voice low, but you can feel how tight his throat is, the amount of grit laced within his tenor has your eyes bugging out of there socket.

“Bab- “ It was a reflex, whenever he’s upset it’s just what falls from your lips, and he gives you a look, almost as if to say “How fucking dare you” ! The level of hurt the pet name just rendered within his eyes is- 

Eyes sharp, brows furrowed “Noo, nooo, we literally just went through this. That’s not the way it works for us in this kinda setting” Flailing his arms around to reference the restaurant. “Wrong Kim” Well damn. “So it's Tae in public remember!?” Brow quirked accusingly, he’s abating this entire situation, almost like he wants you to snap, a second away from whisper yelling! “ Or maybe I should say Taehyung, hell  just use my full government while your at it. Let’s make it real impersonal, Mr. Kim maybe?” Head cocked to the side as if he’s being genuine and not a total smartass right now. 

You-he’s ...hurt, and you get that, hell you respect that, but Lunch at 71 Above is not the time or place for this conversation. You’re trying to approach this on a more rational level, however the condescending delivery is making it hard, and your only human. Eyes rolling to the back of your head before you can even catch yourself and that little gesture seems to be what officially set him off!

You can physically see the tension within his face... “I’m gonna go get some air, I might actually call a Uber or somethin,.” The words trailed off his lips low in mumbled but clear enough to be heard because that’s ultimately what he wanted to begin with. 

There was something in his eyes you couldn’t read, a combination of anger/hurt mixed another emotion you can’t quite pinpoint! But whatever it is, you fuckin hated it! Throat running painfully dry as watch him slide his chair out and even though realistically you know at max he’s headed home...Still the gesture alone is gut wrenching because you know this runs deeper than just this situation!

“Tae” His name leaves your throat as more of a warning, reaching up to take an almost possessive grip on his wrist. Fingertips landing on the edge of his Cartier bracelet, the one you're both wearing actually, same arm and all!

A deep labored breath shutters from his chest at the contact, thighs feelin like a newborn fawn, gaze hesitantly meeting yours. “Tae, baby” Daring to use the endearment again regardless of your current surroundings “Sit back down so I can order us dessert and we can discuss whatever you want...just-please” The ending whisked off your tongue so faint your almost wondering if he even heard you!

Taehyung narrows his eyes, teeth clenched, tongue nudging his inner cheek! “I’m not really in the mood for cake right now Y/n. To be honest I just wanna leave” You know he’s aiming for dry but instead he lands somewhere around defeated , which makes it even worse. You’re both well aware this is not truly about cake, it’s about his constant need to run away from shit!

Sliding your fingers down his wrist, interlocking your fingers, giving them a firm squeeze. Eyes locked with his “Then you can get whatever you want, but I need you to just be here right now, I really, really need you to sit here, and just breathe through this with me.”

He’s know what your really asking is for him not to run away for once!

A faint little “Whatever” Leaves his lips and then he’s dead silent, silent as he slides his chair out, remaining as such for what feels like hours, and it has your heart beating painfully hard against your ribcage. It’s almost like he’s not even here, eyes fixated on some random painting on the opposite side of the restaurant, chewing at his inner cheek until....

“I’m sorry…” He admits after a baited breath, stroking your palm with his thumb gently, you can see him working over his thought’s in his head before speaking. ”I can’t - fuck I never know when I’m going to get all in my feels with shit like this, sometimes it just sucks harder than others I guess” The curt little shrug that leaves his shoulders let’s you know how uncomfortable he is, Tae’s overall persona suddenly seems mounds smaller in this moment. Anxiously stroking the back of his own neck “But....I shouldn't have come at you like that! That was fucked on my behalf and for that I’m truly am sorry ! This isn't all on you, or Joon we all-”Gazing over his shoulder before continuing “There’s just- there’s a lot, we have families and it’s just, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, ...”

Dropping his voice a little lower “I just fuckin love you” There’s a timid smile playing on his lips “and if the offer still stands I would really fuckin like chocolate cake…”

You actually snort, that’s your first instinct because only Tae, but the plus is it lightens the mood  immensely! The sudden outburst triggers that full boxy grin to come into play and god your so damn  enamored by this man it’s actually sad. Bringing his knuckles up to your mouth, grazing them past your lips like he did yours moments prior. “I love you too, and chocolate cake sounds fuckin amazing, and liquor, we need new drinks, actually we need an entire bottle! ” You laugh and then so does Tae, suddenly your holding hands and laughing together and everything else just seems so miniscule in the moment.

~~~~~

So, here’s the thing...being a CEO of one of the top Adult film entertainment companies is not on the same level as like..I don’t know….

Owning a high-end clothing company, or being a reality star or something. Your field is praised just as highly as it is tabooed, so with that being said, it’s not like your the top topic on E-news, or on Business Digest. You still have a strong sense of normality, point blank you’re not that important. It’s not as common for outsiders to know the high rollers within the porn industry the way it is in other fields!

However there's another avenue to factor in where the 7 of you are concerned, and that’s the world of social media, and that’s a completely different world entirely! One that’s heavily intertwined in your state in particular, living playing, and working in LA….I mean let’s get real, shit not normal here, by any means!

You’re a 26-year-old wealthy CEO, that goes to work in a Ferrari, cute little bodycons, Louboutin's, and Chanel bags! Your executive assistant is Tae for fucks sake, he looks like a model his damn self , on the surface your life is an aesthetically pleasing wet dream. An influencer without even trying for the title, if your 2.7 million followers are at all telling! So in the public eye, especially when out in Downtown LA..you try to be discreet.

Just last week Jimin was hanging all over you while walking through Saks and one of your mutual followers stopped to ask for a picture. Again this isn’t a daily occurrence, you’re not comparing yourself to Rhianna, but it’s why you do move with a slight air of caution when in your city! You literally live in a place where people become famous for running into walls, nevertheless owning their own business!

The world knows you’re married to Namjoon, and to be honest there’s numerous reasons the other aspect of your dynamic stays hidden! More than just the obvious….

However there’s been rumors circulating over the years, or at least now that Hollywood’s decided you hold some relevance! Ones pertaining your your sexuality, typically the tabloids assuming it, insulating your swingers, or that Namjoon’s bi.  A Lot of these narratives circle back from your college days though, old classmates trying to slip tea to the media. Stories of when you could go to a party and it didn’t matter if you were sandwiched between Namjoon and Yoongi at the same damn time! Not to mention the dark side of social media where nothing ever truly dies, so yeah there are some questionable photos floating around. Luckily nothing recent enough to truly add fuel to the fire but you know deep down it’s only a matter of time!

One could argue it adds allure to the overall dynamic, especially considering your line of work, and maybe it wouldn’t matter if the boys were just casual thirds...but they’re not! They’re so much more than that and that’s what makes this hard, because well in laymen’s terms...people just fucking suck! So as heartbreaking as it is, where your other boys are concerned, in the public eye at least your “relationship” holds a strong air of mystery!

It’s the little things ya know? Like now for example, the fact that he could've easily gotten a foot job under the table but has to walk on eggshells about holding your hand at times! Shit just sucks sometimes, there’s no other way around it!

~~~~~~~

The two of you don’t really talk much until the dessert comes, more drinks and a bottle is in fact ordered as well! The silence felt a little more bearable this time around, busying yourselves on your phones. A very minor but significant change, is the fact that you still haven’t let go of his hand, even once the waitress returns. The simple notion has his entire dementor shifting! Fingers still tightly bound together and your chest flutters seeing the way he flushes almost bashfully at such minor PDA! Like the two of you didn’t hook up in the back of a club in London two months ago! Like you literally weren’t palming him under the table! Yet here he is blushing at openly holding your hand!

So fuckin cute!

Eventually two pieces of molten chocolate crepe cake gets brought over and holy fuck! Both moaning in unison as the pastry hits the table...

“Oh my goddd, we have to take a piece home for Jin, the like...convince him to learn how to make it!” You watch Tae’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he laces his lips around the fork! Groaning out in agreeance once the mixtures of pure sin hit his tongue.

“K...now back to , these sponsors...” Prompting over a mouth full of cake, not that you wouldn’t love to sit here and chill all day but you do have a 4pm conference call!

You watch as Tae glances down at your intertwined fingers, and his fork....realizing ones gotta go so he can pick up his phone and you physically coo back at him, melting into your set once he opts to drop the fork instead of your hand. Purposely avoiding your glance once he noticed the look on your face, nose scrunched and all!

“Right, so Uber reached out, more specifically Uber Luxxe, looking to send us 4 cars of our choice in exchange for a couple post. Spread out between IG, Twitter and Snap, I’m personally all for this one. The contract doesn’t seem excessive and I like that the post won’t feel forced! I mean realistically we were going to hire a driving service regardless! However something to also consider is our lack of filter when drinking! I mean...”Flailing his phone between the two of you as if to give an example, obviously referencing the little slip up moments prior. At least he can joke about it a little “So realistically, would we feel more comfortable with a private car service where there’s a contract involved as opposed to just some random?”

Tae just went full EA, out of nowhere and honestly ...

You blinked at him, almost dazed, fork halfway to his mouth because, what?! . “You sound so professional right now, it’s so fuckin hot.”

Tae choked on nothing but straight air before blushing profusely. “Baby-I mean-Y-“

You didn’t even flinch, continuing, unperturbed. “Nah, actually I think I’m in the mood to be baby right now!” Eying him wickedly “Your jaw just gets really tight, and your voice gets all low and raspy! It happens during meetings too, it’s really fuckin sexy! Reminds me of the way you sound when your lips are pressed into the side of my neck when we fuck.” It's just the casualness of it all, you sound like your ordering another appetizer and Tae’s about to choke on his dessert. 

The grip he has on your hand is almost painful right now, “But don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here writing out my next script in my head, carry on. What rental service did you have in mind? Or did someone already reach out as well?”

It’s the way you just went from talking about Tae, being balls deep to sponsorships all in the span of a comma! In the words of your best friend you are pure chaos.....

Tae groans  head hanging in defeat and your lips curl into a smirk, brow quirked in his direction.

“It’s the way I hate it here sometimes...” Snatching his hand away to jab his fork into the neglected pastry.

“Ah huh” You roll your eyes crossing your arms over your chest before leaning back. “Right, again let’s not act like you didin’t start this, both here and at the venue.” Leaning over the table again licking your lips “Don’t act like you weren’t eye fucking me the entire time, or the way you’d accidentally brush against me as we walked through the building. You’ve been practically begging for it all day.”

Tae just stares back at you, mind momentarily blank, stomach shifting into knots, letting the fork drop from those delicate fingers of his! Mouth opening and closing like a fish straight outta water...

“Did you think about it too? The acoustics in that place were fuckin insane, the way it would just echo through as you made me cum would just- fuck”  You continued adding that lethal little purr back into your voice! “Or even better the way you’d sound, you don’t even know how bad I wanted to drop-“

“Y/n”

“Baby.” Phrasing the word borderline as a threat “Would you have liked that baby boy?” Cocking your head to the side, tongue teasing your bottom lip “Me on my knees for you looking up at you all pretty, letting you hold my hair and fuck my throat until you came straight into my mouth?”

Speaking of mouths' your just straight fuckin-mayhem ...and it’s making Taehyung’s brain feel like it’s melting through his ears! But god should we be surprised though?

It’s never taken much with you....

You’ve always been just what he needs and a little bit more than he can take all in one! You haven’t even touched him yet and he feels a moan creeping up his throat! Especially as he watches you swirl the tip of your tongue over the whipped cream on the edge of your fork, sucking it between your overly glossed lips in the most obscene manner.

Eyes locked and loaded, a second away from drooling, “Fuck, yeah,” He stutters breath hitching on his lungs, heat coursing through his skin. Tae’s veins literally feel like they’re on fire, subtly trying to shift in his seat to readjust himself! Glancing subconsciously out of his peripheral, the restaurant still chill and half empty. The waitress on the opposite end of the room attending to another couple!

“You always look so damn good with my cock down your throat, and my cum on your tounge. God, especially when I wrap my hand around your throat and I can feel you swallowing down around my-” Your tongue’s swirling all over this damn fork, and he can feel every flick your tongue against his dick, and it’s just...fuck!  Not to mention once you accidently spilled some whipped cream on your lips, which you took your time licking off as well.  “Jesus-Fuck, Y/n!!” Taehyung’s voice is dripping with arousal, and you already know he’s leaking all over the place.

“Yeah?” Humming around the form before setting it to the side “ You like the way I look when I’m chocking on your cock?” These questions are all rhetorical, your an ass “Or how about when I get a little messy because I can’t fit it all in my mouth?” Your eyes darken, words coming out over low gasps of air, almost as if your just as aroused as he is and that’s because you are!

“Your always such a good boy for me, so helpful too holding my hair back, guiding my mouth until you hit the back of my throat...holding me in place until I gag. You know how much I love when you get rough with me ..” Tae feels the sole of your red buttons tease up his thigh, shifting between his legs. The transition was so damn smooth it catches him off guard, instinctively wanting to push away but instead...

“You’d be loud for me too wouldn’t you? Show them how good you look falling apart for me, how good you look when you come down my throat....The way your eyes roll-”

“Holy-fuck Baby” Aggressively running his palms over his face until it’s matching his shirt “Please don’t do this to me right, now, if your gonna give it to me then fuckin let me have it but I cant-.”

You can’t help but smile back at him, so fond it almost seems out of place in the moment. “I’ll give you whatever you want Tae...you know this. You just gotta promise you’ll be good for me, we can’t draw-”

“I’m always good” He damn near growled at you, eyes daring you to say otherwise and well, who were you to deny Tae of what he wants!?Gently pressing your foot at the base of his cock, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips upon feeling that your boys already fully hard.

It’s the way the two of you are just casually in one of LA’s boujeiest restaurants and your deadass about to give him a foot job in Louboutin’s! Yup, your life had turned into a porno,  you’ve officially made it!

“Kay, so back to that list of sponsors, first off I completely agree, as much as I love our contact at Uber I’d prefer an actual car service for something like that.” Here you go again the queen of the switch up, you’re back to discussing work yet there’s still a slight moan in your tenor. Breathy and light and Tae feels like all the airs being sucked from his lungs.

Tae shifts, spreading his thighs even further, shuddering out a bated breath as you point your toe, dragging it up and down! It’s a peep-toe so that alone allows you a little more flexibility! Pressure intentionally light so it’s just enough to have him on the brink of begging! But instead of doing so, he picks up his phone, hands shaky and all and continue doing his job as requested!

“Right..” Clearing his throat not sure why he currently sounds like he’s going through puberty again but K...  “I’ll let Hobi know, maybe we can do something we’re we use them while planning this party or something! Since you vetoed a party planner will have a lot more running around to do! Realistically outside of Joon and Jin we all have coupes anyway...so it’s not like we can carry much!”

Mmm, always the innovator, even when all the blood and airs being rushed to his dick! You feel him try and slide forward, chasing after the stimulation.

“Ohhh, I really like that, and like you said it still feels somewhat organic because realistically our cars aren’t efficient for something like that”  You press down harder against his cock almost as a reward “Good boy, what’s next?” Nodding towards his phone and it takes every ounce of self control he had to swallow down the moan laying on his tongue.

Eyes struggling to stay ajar as you continuously rub your foot up and down his length. Now applying more prominent pressure with the ball of your feet! Movement stealth from the waist up so you don’t draw attraction to yourself.

“Tae Tae” The nickname falls from your lips singsong like, and far too innocent for the demon seed you are. “Next?”

He doesn't even know what to really do except follow instructions, so he just nods, scrolling through his phone. “There was also a couple brands wanted to oh fuck-“ Gasping as you pick up your pace, damn near dropping his phone into the plate beneath him.

Face splitting into an amused grin, a hint of something wicked playing on your lips. Eyes gleaming with mischief, you watch those long, delicate fingers flex, clearly struggling this time around to bite back the moan like he needs to! Hands shaking as your continue working him at a merciless pace. Rubbing faster, harder, utilizing the rounded point on the head of your heel to press right against what your assuming is Tae’s tip by the way he shudders. Thighs shaking as he grips the edge of the table for dear life!

“Oh my godddd” Tae manages to just mouth the words as opposed to screaming them the way he desperately wants too. Tugging on his own scalp, trying to just do something to get himself busy!

“You fuckin love this....” It’s not even a question, more of a consensus!

Your eyes haven’t left his once, watching intently as you swirl your tongue around the straw before taking a sip. Moaning around it because well ya know, the drinks just that damn good apparently.

God his skin feels like it’s on fire, every stroke of your foot has him feeling like he’s coming undone!

He’s trying to focus, on his surroundings, this damn list everything but he can’t he just fucking can’t! Thankfully it’s you, and he trust you with everything he has, so his subconscious is somewhat at ease with all of this because he knows you got him!

“Yeah,fuck yeah you already know you can do anything to me” He states plainly, the most stable his voice has sounded in god knows when “Whatever you want” Gaze heavy through hooded lashes, looking straight at you with steady sinful eyes.

“Mmm, and always want it don’t you baby? Always...:”

He bites back a moan nodding, and then his phone rings, of course his phone fucking rings and it’s coming from the office because why the fuck not?!

“Answer” The command was simple, clearly no room for debate and hs eyes go wide,

“Baby” Complaining with a hint of a whine in his voice and when you don’t seem to give a damn....

“Yeah?”Jaw tight, nostrils flared as he picks up the phone. Adrenaline flies through his veins, pressure building in his gut as you relentlessly keep your pace intact! Pressing harder and deeper into all the right places until he’s coughing around Moans to try and cover it up!

Dropping his head slightly, propping it on his elbow as he squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “ Welp, That's where it would be so if you don’t see any were out, email me a list and I’ll make a Amazon-“

Taehyung’s chest heaves painfully tight, breathing becoming more erratic with every stroke and yes clearly there’s a strong voyeurism kink within this man! So as crazy as it may sound , the combination of the restaurant, and this phone call ?!

Yeah, he’s not gonna last!

Slouching down completely against the back of the booth, thighs spreading to full capacity. Fingers tangled in his Smokey locks holding his bangs out of his face. Eyes shut , jaw tight, neck slightly reclined, though to the naked eye he’d just appear to be on a very unpleasant phone call! When in all actually he’s finally just letting himself fall apart beneath your touch!

Eyes fluttering open just enough to glance down at you in a way that had you feeling like you could come right with him. Your gaze is Just as heavy as his, lips darting out to wet your lips though your throats suddenly what’s running dry!

Tae’s lips part slightly, though he’s falling apart he’s giving it right back to you. Hitting you with those sinfully needy fuck me eyes! The same ones you see when your riding and edging him until he’s coming tenfold! His breathing comes stagnate every time your foot moves and Tae finds himself gnawing down on his bottom lip to stifle the moans sliding up his chest! You can tell who's on the other end now, it’s the new secretary Alanna, and she legitimately is still getting her footing! Which is the only reason Tae is even entertaining the call, well one of the reasons!

You notice Tae’s breathing is starting to even out a little almost as if he’s gained some of his self control back and we don’t support that in this household.  So you proceed to dig your foot right into the head of his cock and he straight wheezes! Body jerking off the wall and all ...

“No, I’m, fuck-“ There’s a moan that finally falls freely off his tongue that only barley seems acceptable because he in fact just choked! Voice coming out what feels like a octave lower and huskier , poor Alanna! “Yeah i'm good sorry , food just went down the wrong pipe.” He can barely think straight but he knows he needs to close this up “Hey look will be back within the hour and will sort it out then alright?”

I don’t even think he even waited for her to respond before hanging up and literally throwing his phone across the table! Gucci case and all.

“Everything okay? ?” Voice low and teasing, he knows you're technically asking about the office but your timing sucks ass!

“Fuck you” Falls off his lips in a barley audible moan, so consumed as his orgasm builds in the pit of his stomach! Eyes still struggling to stay open mouth, mouth falling slack, if your were in your right mind you’d tell him to pull it together alittle! Now that he’s off the phone, he either looks like he’s getting a foot job, or like he’s high on meth! Neither are appealing to the GP! God, he must look utterly ridiculous right now, thankfully he’s shifted against the booth so he’s facing a wall as opposed to other guest!

“Mm, my pretty baby’s close yeah?” Watching how heavily his throat bobs as he swallows, Tae’s leaking precum all over the damn place, so, close hips gently rocking into your foot as discreetly as possible, growing more desperate by the second. Fuck he needs to come, he needs to!

“Yeah baby please don’t- fuck” God he sounds so good, so needy and pliant and fuck!  

“I got you...” At that you actually kick your shoe off, moving back to press down even harder, rubbing and rubbing forcing Tae to attempt to grab his drink in attempts to muzzle himself. However his hands are shaking too hard and  he almost knocks it over!

“God baby I’m-“

“Be a good boy for me”

And he is, coming with a shuddering breath, under the steady pressure of your foot as his release tears through his veins. Dropping his to the table as subtly as possible(Hell maybe people will think he’s tipsy or not feeling well), thighs shaking, chest heaving painfully hard. He’s not completely silently but he does a lot better than expected, a low groan manages to slip past his lips.

“Good boy” The praise rolls off your tongue and goes straight to his dick, as if he needed anymore stimulation there. Another faint whimper falls off his lips until he’s drooling all over the table. Not even realizing initially, that his hips were still grinding into you until he’s hissing from oversensitivity! The force of his orgasm has Taehyung drawing straight blanks, hearing nothing but white nose rustling in the background!

Also, I don’t know what that says about Tae as a person but he’s not even remotely humiliated! The only thing that he’s about to regret once his mind's less foggy is how absolutely drenched his YSL leather pants are!

So busy trying to get his breathing back in check as he comes down from his high, he completely missed the way you’d signaled to the server. Calmly asking for her  to add 8 more slices of cake to go, and bring the bill over!

His face is flushed, his pants feel gross as hell but above everything else he feels so damn good! Reaching down to still your foot, gently massaging the top as his eyes finally flutter open! Vision still a little hazy as he looks back at you with a dazed smile, and your gazing back at him with so much fondness that the first thing that slurs off his lips in a whisper is....

“I fuckin love you!”

Flashing him a wink in return as you make eye contact with your servers whose letting you know she’ll be over in a moment. Keeping your foot stationary for a moment, enjoying the well deserved foot massage. Occasionally flexing your toes to “accidentally brush against his dick. Giggling around your drink every time he'd hiss and jerk away!

This entire lunch situation was a damn mess, and high key reckless but, the blissed out smile written all over his face is more than worth it. Where just ugh...not gonna tell the boys about this!

“Love you too Tae”

~~~~~~~~~

Everything from that moment on kind of feels like a blur honestly, up until the two of you sliding into your car and before you can even get yourself settled he’s on you! Yanking you out of your seat and into his lap before you can even put your seatbelt on which obviously is not ideal this is a sports car after all but you don’t dare complain! Taehyung’s far from shy with his wants, griping the back of your neck, sliding his fingers through your hair as he presses your lips together! He doesn’t try to ease you into it either It’s hard, hungry, desperate and overtly needy! Forcing both of you to huff out a staggered breath through your nose to even keep up! You breathe him in, and he breathes you out, it’s all open mouthed, and heady, an obscene amount of moans rolling off your tongues. Reclining your jaw, giving him free reign to explore your mouth. Tongue rolling against your slick and languid with years of finesse between the two of you. No matter how hard he’s kissing you it still doesn’t feel rushed, its deep, borderline sensual actually!

Tae pulls back just enough to nip at your bottom lip, dragging his across your jaw and down the side of your neck! Licking sucking and biting, along your skin, moaning at the way you arch and grind your hips into every touch! The two of you carry on like that until there’s suddenly something thumbing in the back of your throat!

“Hey..” There's a slight sternness within your voice that has him instantly trying to snap out of his postcoital haze. Stroking the hinge of his jaw “You know, how much I love you right? And if, we need to all sit down a re-”

Cutting you off with the smooth glide of his lips pulling you into a kiss that’s a slower, less needy, there’s no ulterior motive, Tae just wants to feel you “Nah, I don't wanna change anything sometimes- I just want-”

“I know...” Because you do, pressing your forehead to his, not even kissing just letting your breaths melt as one. Massaging his scalp gently, he already looks like he’s a second away from passing out! Pondering if maybe the two of you should switch places...

“Promise you’ll let me take care of you later” Tae nuzzles against the side of your face like a puppy wanting his ears scratched! Believe it or not he wasn’t always such a selfless lover, not until he found you guys! Now it’s almost like his orgasms feel incomplete if he’s the only one coming once it’s all said and done!

“You can do whatever you want to me Tae, you know this.” Placing a couple lingering kisses on those pouty lips of his before hesitantly shuffling into the passengers seat. Transfixed on the way he slips back into his lane, fixing his hair, pulling out his oversized cat eye frames to rest on the bridge of his nose. One hand on the wheel the other finding there home on your thigh. Noting the slight discomfort as he shifts in his seat, no doubt due to the fact that well, he just came in his pants.

“How about..” Leaning over to place a open mouth kiss right beneath is ear, digging your nails into his thigh until he moans.  “ I clean you up a little on the drive, and we pit stop at mine, and we drop you off first so you can shower and chill. Then me and Joon will come back and crawl into bed with you after were done for the day..”

“Am I being given the rest of the day off Mrs. Kim?” You can already hear the smirk in his voice without even looking...

“Yes Mr. Kim that would be correct....” Already working the zipper before he can even respond because you already know how this is about to pan out...

___________________

Hi my babies, first off IDK where this came from, I also wouldn’t consider it my best, but it was the first thing I’ve written in like 6 months which felt good. This was supposed to be up back in December I had a couple holiday prompts for the series that I never got around to completing ! But If you enjoyed show this some love and come talk to me!

Love always,

Rocki

[fairy-marshmallow]

Fairy Ring (Arthur x MC)

Fairy Ring

Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle x female character

Genre: Fluff

Original Post date: 3/8/2020

Arthur looked down at his manuscript and the large paragraphs of crossed-out text. The words just would not flow today. Writer's block hung over him like a storm cloud and the pages on his desk tormented him.

“I need a break.” He groaned, slumping down in his chair.

A bark from the direction of the writer’s bed seemed to acknowledge this.

“You think so too, Vic?” he turned to look at his furry companion who was staring at him, tail wagging.

“I can see someone is eager for attention,” Arthur chuckled at Vic bounding over to nuzzle against his outstretched hand.

Two knocks sounded against the door before it opened and in walked an amused art dealer.

“Still alive in here, you old hermit?” asked Theo.

“Just barely,” Arthur replied with a tired smile.

“I’m taking King for a walk; do you and Vic want to come? Who knows, some fresh air might get your two brain cells to actually work.”

“Ah yes, going on a walk is just the kind of break I need.” Arthur yawned, pulling off his glasses.

“Meet you by the front door in about 10 minutes.” With that Theo left the room as swiftly as he entered.

Trench coat swishing behind him, and humming quietly, Theo made his way down the hall with King. Hearing the sound of light footsteps behind him, he turned around to face the mansions’ newest resident. An idea formed in his head.

“You done with work yet?”

“Yeah I’m pretty much free, I just need to help Sebastian serve dinner later.”

“What do you say to going for a walk then? A small Hondje like you needs a change of pace from time to time.” He ruffled her hair.

“Depends on where you’re going and will you please stop messing my hair up!” she sighed, tilting her head away from Theo.

“We’re going out into the forest. Vincent wanted to paint some autumn landscapes for his next piece. I’m going to look at some nice spots for him to paint while taking King for a walk. Arthur is bringing Vic, so you might as well come for your walk too Hondje.” A smug smile spread across Theo’s face.

“Ok, I haven’t been out into the forest yet anyway,” she nodded in agreement. She’d stopped bothering to correct him when he called her Knabbeltje or Hondje weeks ago because he’d say it even more than before, if that was even possible. It honestly just wasn’t worth the effort of arguing with him.

“I’ll just go let Sebastian know I’m going out,” she said.

“Alright, hurry up. Oh and bring your coat, the weather’s been cold lately. A sick pup is the last thing we need to worry about around here,” he said gruffly but failing to mask his concern.

For all his rude quips, curt attitude, nicknames and dog jokes, it was painfully clear to anyone who actually spent time with the man that Theodorus van Gogh had a heart of gold.

The trees were crowned with all the brilliant colours of autumn, their fiery hues contrasting against the clear blue afternoon sky. Leaves crunched underfoot as the group made their way through the forest discussing Theo’s latest art show plans.

The dogs played around happily. Sniffing everything that caught their interest, they enjoyed the company of the new resident who repeatedly cooed at them and stroked their heads. King dashed off at lightning speed to chase a squirrel that scuttled across the forest floor the second he was let off-leash. In comparison, Vic was relatively calm walking ahead of Arthur at a relaxed pace.

The forest soon gave way to a steep hill leading down into a clearing in the trees. Something in the clearing caught Vic’s attention and the little dog ran energetically down the slope.

“I wonder what’s got him so excited.” Arthur laughed.

Narrowing her eyes to see through the tree gaps she realised what it was.

“Oh look! It’s a fairy ring!” the girl exclaimed. She gripped her long skirt and ran down the hill to join Vic.

“Be careful of the tree roots, little dove!” called out Arthur, with Theo shouting “Hey, don’t trip Hondje!” at the same time. Both friends sprinted to catch up to her and King zoomed past them all to keep up with Vic.

“I’ve never seen such a large fairy ring before,” she marvelled once she reached the foot of the hill, eyes glittering with excitement.

The clearing looked ethereal. The tree leaves danced in the gentle breeze, glowing in the bright stream of sunlight. Moss-covered stones and sprigs of wildflowers scattered across the forest floor and a large circle of white mushrooms stood proudly in the centre.

King padded off to examine some trees while Vic sniffed at the mushrooms, barking happily.

“Ah, don’t step into the circle Vic! The fairies could spirit you away and we won’t see you until next year!” she joked, picking Vic up and putting him on the ground further away from the circle.

“Not another fairy obsessed fool. I have enough of that listening to this one when he’s drunk too much,” Theo groaned, pointing his thumb at the author.

“Really now Theo, have you no sense of wonder? Who’s to say fairies, goblins and ghosts aren’t real if we vampires exist?” Arthur teased, kneeling down to pet Vic.

Ignoring Arthur’s flight of fancy, Theo mumbled “Spirited away by fairies, huh?”

He slowly crept up behind the girl. She was still looking at the mushrooms and didn’t even notice him behind her. In one smooth movement, he picked her up and placed her down inside the fairy circle.

“What are you doing?!” she squeaked as Theo grabbed her shoulders. His grip was firm enough to prevent her from moving while remaining gentle so it didn’t hurt her in any way.

“You’re as short as a fairy, Hondje, so I thought I’d help you get back home to your fairy family,” he cackled.

“Come on Theo, let go!” she said, smacking at his arms to get him off. A futile action because of his vampire strength.

“Who knows, maybe by the time the fairies let you go, you’ll have grown taller?” he said with a mocking grin.

“You’re a right terror, Theo,” Arthur chuckled, making his way to Theo’s side. “Want me to save you, pretty little fairy?” he asked, instantly playing along with Theo’s teasing.

“Just get him off me,” she sighed. Of course, Arthur wouldn’t miss an opportunity to throw out a flirtatious comment.

“Who am I to deny a lady’s request?” Arthur said. Slapping Theo’s hands away, he reached into the circle and scooped her up into his arms.

“What is with you vampires and picking people up? Put me down right now!” she said, wriggling to get out of this bridal carry pose.

A blush spread across her cheeks as Arthur cradled her against his chest. The scent of his cologne was so much stronger now that she felt giddy and her heart raced a mile a minute.

“And what if the evil troll Theodorus traps you again, hm? No, no I think you’re much safer in this brave Knight’s arms, my sweet fairy maiden!” A joyous smile spread across Arthur's face as he looked into her eyes, his cheeks dusted with a rosy tint that mirrored hers.

“Why am I a troll and by what stretch of the imagination are you a brave knight?” Theo scoffed.

“Ah, let me list your troll-like qualities for you, old chap! You’re always so harsh around women; you do know that calling a girl ‘dog’ isn’t the best compliment, right? You have a terribly grumpy countenance, you also held her captive like a cruel troll from a fairy tale. As for me, I actually am a knight so I’m just using my correct title,” Arthur countered smugly.

“You only use your title when it suits you.” Theo rolled his eyes.

“What use is a title if I can’t use it when it’s most impressive?” he laughed.

Silly love sick thoughts took control of her mind. Why was his laughter so appealing? His hair looked so soft, how he would react if she started playing with it? What expression would he make if she suddenly pressed a kiss against his cheek?

Similar thoughts invaded Arthur’s mind. Admiring how beautiful she looked in this light, he pushed away the urge to plant a kiss against her forehead . Casting a glance upwards he noticed the sky started to display the first tell-tale shades of evening.

“Now, while I could contentedly hold you in my arms forever, my sweet fairy, I best let you go. It’s going to get dark soon and we should start heading home,” Arthur said as he put the girl down and secured the leash to Vic’s collar.

“Thank god!” She thought, trying to calm down while she smoothed her coat and dress out “I thought my heart would beat out of my chest.”

Theo whistled for King “Come on boy, time to go!”

“Hey Theo, isn’t this a nice area to suggest to Vincent?” she asked as Theo attached King’s leash.

“You’ve got a good eye, Hondje. I was thinking the same thing,” he nodded in agreement.

The cogs in Arthurs head began turning as the other two chatted away. Inspiration had finally struck! Perhaps he should have the body of a missing man suddenly turning up inside a fairy ring? Or maybe he could… countless ideas rattled in his mind, eager for him to unleash them onto the pages of his manuscript.

Arthur clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Thank you Theo, this little ramble in the woods was just what I needed! I think I have the perfect set up for my story now.” A carefree laugh escaped from his lips.

“I only suggested it because I felt sorry for Vic, he's cooped up inside with such an inattentive owner,” Theo quipped.

He was actually relieved that Arthur had found inspiration so quickly. Arthur’s destructive, self-loathing cycles started whenever he experienced writer's block for long periods. They were a real cause for concern, not that Theo would openly admit it to his face. Arthur always clammed up whenever Theo tried to get him to open up to him. Instead, he'd nudge Arthur in the right direction by making sure he didn't drink too much or by checking in on him.

Thinking back on it, Theo had realised that Arthur was much better since the new resident had walked through that strange door and into their lives. Everyone in the mansion could see how she and Arthur felt about each other, yet the two of them continued to dance around each other, not fully admitting their (blatantly obvious) feelings.

If left to his own devices, Arthur would probably let this rare chance of happiness slip through his fingers, continuing to punish himself for his past. Hence Theo inviting her to come on this walk with them to give Arthur even more chances to interact with her.

“Don’t lag behind, Hondje,” he said, turning back to check on her. She was further down the hill than he expected.

“I’d like to see you hike up this steep hill in such long skirts so easily, do you have any idea how heavy all these layers are?” she grumbled.

Arthur turned back, he quickly approached the girl and placed his leash-free hand in hers.

“My, my, how careless of me to rush off ahead of you, little dove,” Arthur grinned down at her.

“Forgive my inattentiveness and allow me to escort you properly.” His gloved hand squeezed her hand affectionately and hesitantly she squeezed his back. Arthur’s heart filled with warmth as he matched his pace to hers as they continued up the hill.

“He’s definitely changed.” Theo thought as he watched them walking together, hand in hand through the corner of his eye. “I hope the idiots admit their feelings for each other soon.” A small smile lit up Theo’s face.

This is my first fic so I apologise if I’m a bit off with how I portray the characters. 

Can I just say how much I adore Theo? He’s such a supportive and thoughtful character behind his harsh façade and he just makes me soft, I swear. I contemplated writing that he also has a crush on the girl but that just made my heart hurt so this is just Theo with platonic affection instead.

Thanks for reading!

[obliviouskind]

Largesse

---

---

Father’s office carried a presence of its own. Perhaps it was why his mother rarely visited its quiet quarters, and the door seldom stood ajar. (Only when one was invited did it unhinge its jaws…) At the far back wall, rows upon rows of shelving housed books that, undoubtedly, were thoroughly dog eared and read through. At the center of the world, were the patriarch’s seat. Leathery and aged like fine wine and, as it were… occupied. His palms sat weakly clasped within his lap. A shake overtaking them, a reaction that never had quite left him as he'd grown. Though his fear, his dread, over his fathers prolonged presence long since had simmered out of his system; his nerves still behaved as though it hadn't. It was muscle memory, at this point, or perhaps it was simply something entirely psychological… No matter the reason; he shakes, shakes, shakes… Thinly draped curtains trailed crisscrossed patterns of light over his skin and across from him, it shrouded his father’s features into something less than a collection of shadowy contours.

Between them, upon the fine, Oakwood bureau… It had been laid. As though an offering, a present, one that Cyrus hadn't registered as such until he was outright told it was so. --Once his father decided he had tortured his child with silence long enough, that was.

“Don’t feign hesitancy with me, son.” Noboru’s worn hand had gestured towards the offering as though it was Eve’s cursed apple. “… It doesn’t suit you.”

The gift had been taken shortly thereafter, quietly and tentatively – and its weight had sat heavy within Cyrus’s palms until he realized that that was to be the extent of their exchange for that evening. He had risen from his seat and, with a bow and expressed, expected pleasantries (‘Good evening to you, father… and, I thank you for your generosity’), he had left his father’s den and was barely able to stop himself from curiously fingering at the soft, silky fabric once he set foot outside.

As though it had been a sensation foreign to his senses. The very first time he had felt something like it.

He had hid it behind his back as he passed his mother at the staircase landing; sidestepped her, and slid into his bedroom with a simple and curt ‘goodnight’. She had not said it back.

Alone in his boy room, he had lingered, before the gift was left wrapped and unchanged upon his desk until the very last of his studies were through. And, even beyond their demand he wallowed in the anticipation of what, exactly, it was that he had been given. Another hour, he patiently waited – seated upon his knees by the long side of his bed until they positively ached. Praying. One of praise, then a moment of contemplation. A confession shared, a psalm, a request – as well as, regrettably, a plea.

The silence that he received eventually drove him to his feet.

(How rotten.)

With forced down emotions and a sense of insignificance, Cyrus finally sought the proof that he – if not by God, then his kin – had been seen. Had at least been considered, in one way or another. After retrieving his reward, he took a seat upon his bed and the weight of his growing frame suffocated the feathers of angel wings (what a silly way to describe such things…) as the mystery of the evening unraveled itself before him.

One edge at a time.

---

On his eighteenth birthday, Cyrus had been given a watch by his father.

---

“A stupid watch?”

Despite the warmth of the bed that they shared, her fingers felt cold where they danced over his wrist. She took hold of his arm and twisted it and Cyrus, quietly, took note of the fact that she was rougher than normal in her puppeteering of his movement. Peevish, almost. Her nose scrunched up against the lump in his throat. “Hold on, let me see… Yeah.” She spat. “Some dad you’ve got, giving you secondhand garbage like this.”

The fact that she sounded angry caused him pause… if only for the fact that it wasn’t directed at him. --The watch itself, wrapped around his wrist by the use of a dense, ornate leather that still carried the remnants of a musky scent, had a slightly curved, mineral class covering that was framed by a ring of stainless steel. A beige dial laid hidden within, one that featured both a Tele- and Tachymeter scale alongside the equally pale hands of the main watch itself. For all intents and purposes, it was… Just a watch. A simple, if not gently used, wristwatch.

One that he quite enjoyed the look of, and felt a sense of pride over having gotten.

He had paraded it to her for that exact reason. Now, amidst her mockery… he felt nausea building out of regret.

His fingers sprawled against her exposed, jutted hipbone. 

When he didn’t answer her contempt, didn’t retort her claims, Cynthia devilishly shifted where she laid against his side. Until her chest settled flush upon his own, and her hips inelegantly straddled his. He grew acutely aware of the subtle sounds of her surrogate grandparents that came from downstairs, and the fact that they had left her bedroom door wide open.

Her eyes danced with something unknown.

“… Why do you say that?” he eventually asked, and if Cynthia could be stated as mature for her age then he, in comparison, sounded far too young. There was this tremor to his voice which bordered on pubescent fragility, despite the fact that he now, legally, could be considered an adult. Shark’s row of teeth greeted him moments after, followed by a peck upon his mouth that he did not return. Her lips prettily pouted. Even through their sneer.

“Why?” She wickedly mimicked. “Why don’t you tell me how it’s not?”

This, he knew, was a trap. A snare marked out in the open that you were hounded into stepping within, should you not comply on your own. … How did one prove that something subjective wasn’t so?

His brows furrowed, and his snow pale lashes settled against his cheeks.

“It’s… a watch. It tells time.”

“Forever lasts longer than you can count with that flimsy thing.” She interrupted. 

He chose to ignore it. “... And, my father gave it to me. He usually doesn't do such things.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of your family’s wicked ways, Cyrus.” Her voice cooed against his cheek and he pinched his eyes closed tighter. One of her elbows propped upon his chest, denting the bone around his heart while her fingers, one my one, marched over his sternum. “You dance around each other like you’re strangers within your own home, and you play house when guests arrive to pretend that there’s something that’s normal about you.”

… Father’s office carried a presence of its own. Perhaps it was why his mother rarely visited its quiet quarters, and the door seldom stood ajar… As Cyrus had been about to close his bedroom door behind him, he had caught sight of his mother in the gap of its frame. He had heard fairytales of mothers who cried that their children had been taken by fairies and replaced with someone else - and he had always thought it to have been insanity that had driven their deluded claims. Yet, the softness to his mother’s features as she lingered by the separator between herself and her husband had felt… Foreign. Her usual demeanor… Simply gone. As though she had become an entirely different soul.

She had thought herself to have been alone.

After minutes, the soft patter of her feet was to be the only indication that she ever had been there at all.

Cyrus knew, even though he didn’t speak it aloud, that the way his family functioned bordered into that of the unusual. After all, at six he had realized what adults meant when they said that even the smallest of pots had ears. At seven, he had learnt that his mother still could smile – just never at him. At eight he had learned that no matter how much you love someone, they won’t adore you back and at nine, ten and eleven, he had carried a knot within his stomach that had made him sick to the point of suffocation; for the knowledge that those who sinned, those who were wrong, would rot in hell never left his mind.

And his parents would certainly not be spared such a fate.

However… Just because he knew, just because he could tell there was something erroneous did not mean that others should. The fact that Cynthia could see it, too, caused a simmer without a name to storm within his breast.

“Am I wrong?”

Liquor dribbled from her tongue as she shifted and spoke through a smile. Wicked, she was, and he hated her when she decided to behave in this way. When she stopped playing pretty and just let herself do as she pleased - without a care to save face or if the things that she said hurt.

Her tone was flippant. “Just because your father decided you were human enough to tell time doesn’t mean that he suddenly thinks of you as anything special.”

Her features were distorted as he finally dared to peek at her through shards of silver. Cast in daylight and honey glow, with her shoulders sun kissed and bare - she stood as the perfect contrast to the image he had held of his father just yesterday. Soft and supple, girlish and gleaming with jester mirth - Cynthia was the light contrasting the darkness.

Yet they both carried the same, rotten stench. And he felt sick.

Her hips shifted to where they met his, and a wanting pulse surged. “You know,” she began, through poison and mist. He held his breath. “If it was desired that you wanted to be, then you should’ve left your fucked up daddy's house and let out your frustration in me-” 

His hands planted themselves firmly upon her exposed collarbones and in one motion, Cyrus pushed her backwards until she was the one locked beneath him. Awkwardly their limbs shifted around one another, eventually settling so that her legs pushed backwards towards her flimsy, dark tank top and apart while his hands, wrapped around her wrists, locked her arms above her head.

His chest heaved with deep breaths and his flesh flustered with frustration.

With Anger.

“Shut up.” He hissed through clenched teeth, barely loud enough to be heard. The fact that her eyes widened gave away the fact that he had. “... Shut up, shut up shut up shut up-”

They both bounced as he pushed more of his weight down upon her with every word that was uttered. Thorns blossomed within his throat and the resentment he carried within him over her presence within his life peeked into the back of his throat. If she dared look within him, it would be there - covered by tar and spoilt. --Cyrus had flaunted his gift from his father to her. Not because he wished for her jealousy, not because he wished for her praise.

But because he wanted her to know that she wasn’t the only one in this world who saw him. 

Her wrists reddened where his dull nails dug into her flesh - and though it most likely was painful, though it surely harmed her; she behaved as though it didn’t. “Where did you suddenly get air from, Cy-cy?” Her shrill voice made it sound as though laughter soon would follow. “Are you feeling like a tough, big man now that your daddy has given you some acknowledgement?” Her cherry painted lips pursed and seconds later, she spat into his face. It hit him clean in his left eye, mingling into his socket and covering the while of his iris and, as Cyrus recoiled and let go of her wrists for just a moment to rid himself of the slaver, he instead found himself pushed back against the bed.

It was to be the conclusion to a cat and mouse game that he never, ever, had been able to win. She didn’t play by any rules of fairness.

Her hands bunched into the collar of his shirt and a button broke due to its force. If he had compared her to the sun before, then now - as her hair laid in disarray and curtained her features from the rays of daylight; she looked like someone entirely new. Perhaps she always had looked so deranged, and he just hadn’t noticed. 

“You think you’re something special, now that you’ve got what any other family would consider to be the bare minimum?” She shook him, rattled him like a broken toy. “How dare you tell me to shut up?” 

Retorts strained his closed throat and the words that he had been about to share - how he had every right to shut her up, that she was just a stupid child and that he would do it again no matter what she said - died within him as she did something… Unthinkable. Feverishly and without care, she sought to devour him whole in a kiss that tasted less of love, and more like infatuation.

“Say it again.” She eventually breathed - flustered and warm and with her shoulders shaking from unsung delight. “Tell me to shut up, call me a dirty-”

A rapt knuckle upon wood rattled the two youths back into reality, and fear stricken eyes shot towards the open bedroom door. There, clad in robes and a disgruntled expression, stood Cynthia's surrogate grandfather. A man past his prime, and from an entirely different time.

He spoke through gravel as he addressed the young man, and the young man only.

“It is time for you to leave.” 

They were left alone shortly thereafter, aggrieved mumblings lingering thickly within the air and Cynthia - as though unmounting a horse - slung her leg out and over him to instead fall onto her side next to her lover. Just as they had been, when this all first began.

Cyrus, however, would not allow it. He shook her off of him and moved to sit upright on the side of the bed, rubbing at his socket for the sensation of her spit still irritated his eye. Mechanical movements pulled his hair away from his brow and back against his skull, only just then realizing the disarray it had fallen into from their war for power. Perhaps it wasn’t just she whom had looked different…

His shirt sat looser, and he would have to replace it.

“... I hate you.”

He confessed in a whisper, and clear ringing laughter came after. Girlish, sweet and kind. 

Pretty.

“You don’t make me feel hated.” She said, and then turned so that it now was her back that faced him. If she had allowed for him to, then he would’ve learned that her knuckles had been white from how tightly she held on to those pale, gingham covers of her bed. ”I believe you as little as I believe that that watch of yours is worth anything other than dirt.” 

Before they parted ways for yet another time, before he walked from her room and out into the hall - he heard a soft, quiet whisper of her own.

“I love you.”

… He had not said it back.

[1-0-1-9archived]

@softmalldrifting​ responded to this post with:

🎁!

85. Finesse - Bruno Mars

Lucas hasn’t been... quite as stiff, these days, when he’s dropped by the old guest house.

At first, due to ease of familiarity. Poppin’ on by to ask a question or bring something over for the old man (still fuck that guy) or playing Nice Little Errand Boy for Mama no longer saw him inexplicably kicked outta his own zone in favor of checkin’ in on a stranger on the land he’s spent nearly all his goddamn time on since he was an ankle-biter. ‘Stead... Jennifer had become more like the particularly nearby neighbor that somehow, the house hadn’t ever actually had before. ‘Visiting’ when she weren’t the one hangin’ around in the main house instead of her own accord had become... pretty authentic routine. Something he’d still puff and roll his eyes up into nothing at when shipped out - but painless, apart from the obligation and the feelin’ stiffly puppeted along with like by machines. Nothin’ to bristle at.

...Yeah, that was at first, though. Nowadays...?

Well.

...You know, he started gettin’ curious as to whether or not he’d... need to be sent over, each day! When Old Fucker Jack or Mama ever called him over, he’d felt a pull-taut-and-tense in his shoulders as he looked up or crossed over where normally he’d outright have desperately fuckin’ swallowed a seething growl - straight-up, like a mean dog, to get the bitterness (no you don’t GET my time it’s MY time do your OWN shit -- !) steamed outta his system. If he did need to go check in on Jennifer, wherever she mighta been at the moment... the tension held and did one a’ those funny things where it cooled and warmed, at the same time. With a blink and a look over his shoulder, he’d just... step on off - steps automatic and just-too-tappin’, but not forced by levers. At first, he hadn’t quite been able to tell that the thing pulling him along was... well, shoot, still something that was basically curiosity.

Again, that was another at first.

‘Cause now?

...Well, it’s hard for him to fuckin’ ignore that there’s something that makes him curious. About what exactly, he ain’t too sure, but it’s that kind of thing that makes him... not like to go find Jennifer - whatever he feels about it, it’s more tentative than that - but damn if he doesn’t get drawn into doing it...!

When she is in the guest house... she’s been gettin’ more and more knocks that see him standing there, glancing off to some window or another unfocusedly, hoarsely mumblin’ something that don’t include a preface of ‘Dad said’ or ‘Mama had me come by’. ‘Stead, it’s been... maybe with a swallow here or there, ‘ -- Think I mighta left some old Halloween stuff in here. Need it for something’ or ‘my sister put twenty bucks on which one a’ us can find this old box first. Mighta stashed it in the attic’.

None a’ those have been true. ...Very true, anyhow, ‘cause, like -- he certainly has still searched old storage shelves and cabinets that’ve seen better days, knowin’ a lot of stuff may well have old crap in it that he might want. If she’s been nearby, huh -- he’s here and now... managed to shove a laugh out of himself, knowin’ where she was without lookin’, murmuring husky about ‘ -- this old... fuckin’ picture -- church. Betcha Mom and Dad won’t mind by now if I burn the thing,’ or letting his face... mime lighting up while wantin’ to do it for real before a sound like a far-distant blackbird gave way to ‘ -- hot damn, some a’ these trinkets gonna be good for some arts ‘n crafts...!’ Pretendin’ to talk to himself while knowing he weren’t, ‘least on his own end.

...Sneakin’ in excuses to find things to say on... his own level, by the by, weren’t the only benefit of his... fudgin’ excuses to drop by. Poke around.

The other was... hell, again, it was curiosity. And it wasn’t ‘his own’ stuff he... had an excuse to scope out when he hung around. Not only familiar stuff.

It was... hers.

And he didn’t fuckin’ know why he was so curious about any of it; it was just stuff. Still, he’d pop by and she’d be wearin’ another sleek gown that wrapped around her in a way more tricky and clever than a lady’s friggin’ Sunday dress or fresh-outta-school girl’s date-night dress, lookin’ at least a foot taller than she always ever did in a way he couldn’t even chalk up to heels, and like he’d already slipped into the habit of doing, he’d stare and try to size up what the fuck it was that even when she was in motion...

...she looked that kinda way. The way she did when he first popped by to ‘greet’ her solo. Like she was posed for a magazine cover. ‘Glamorous’ wasn’t really a word he’d ever had enough excuse to use to summon it easily to mind. He might walk around and hear music, even, that seemed grander than it should - shaped and colored in a way that fit odd in the setting, meant for low-fi ol’ acoustic boozy country intonation and guitar or fuzzy ragtime that felt 'elevator-y’ to Lucas or hollow-jug and brown-glass-tinted jazz from the folks’ records.

It all kinda fit the way she did - and now, he wonders if that mighta what put him off before. That too-big-for-here-ness; that too-shiny-for-here-ness. He still don’t get it, but ‘least he’s taken it as... what it is, now. Ruled out that it’s meant to impose.

As for what ‘what it is’ even means, though, well...!

He’s alluded to how he feels about the point of comparison. Seems an easy and sensible spot to... bring it into play, now - use it as the first card he can grab

Especially ‘cause he’s feeling a little extra... inspirited today!

He’s chucklin’, lightly, as he ambles up in slow, turning steps - cowboy-like - outta the entry hall and into the kitchen area, eyes trained on the beetle on his hand he ever-so-casually waltzed on inside with, turnin’ his wrist to keep it in sight with its course.

-- Cuts himself off and clears a place in that chuckling with a sharp ‘n rough clear of a quick-sealed throat. Croaks:

“ -- So, uh -- ...what -- ! ”

-- A cough, this time, still short and curt - the beetle-arm moves to guard his face in a jerk shit don’t launch the li’l guy off...!

...One. Two. Beats of settling...!

...Draw of a lazy smile - theeere we go... - as he lowers his arm. Lowers his eyes, too, in turn, back to the beetle again, which has, for the moment, stopped.

“ ...Hsssso how did it first feel, anyway, ” he says - still in a croak, at first, if prolonged. Airin’ out more and more, ‘til he follows up with clarification just about trailed half along breath along, full a’ sand and sawdust. “ -- Stayin’ -- with a bunch a’ hicks -- ...! ”

He’s long since dropped the blocker filterin’ his language, and pff, hell, he ain’t even noticed it.

He still grins, easy, with a small lift in his brow of approval as the beetle starts to stick-flail its li’l legs into movin’ it again. Begins another turrrrrn of his hand...!

[five-wow]

i watched 8.23 as broadcast on dutch tv recently, and everything in the netherlands always gets subtitled, which offers unique opportunities to go “???” over the differences between what the characters are saying and the translations. small things that amused me:

while he’s at the vet with eddie, the vet says eddie is essentially the same age as steve if viewed in dog years, and steve says “hey, eddie, you’re officially over the hill, buddy!” except that last bit is translated as “je stevent op het einde af” which literally means “you’re nearing the end” which is SO MUCH MORE OMINOUS and also not something i could see steve tell his poor dog when a comparison between eddie and steve’s own life is made, omfg, oh no. especially because the way steve says this is so cheerful, which basically turns it into “yay, eddie, we’re both dying!”, which, sdjfkd, why. just why.

when steve says his customary “my name is steve mcgarrett. this is my partner, detective danny williams”, the dutch subtitles for some reason decide titles and first names are not important and shorten it to, literally translated back to english, “i’m mcgarrett, this is williams” which sounds so incredibly different and weirdly brusque

the second time steve says that exact sentence in english, it gets translated slightly differently, as “we’re mcgarrett and williams”, which is still weird and curt but also sounds like they’re either a standup comedy duo or a law firm

when the triad leader asks “italian?” about steve and danny’s planned restaurant in chinatown, steve’s reply of “we want to give people options” gets translated as “we willen de diversiteit wat vergroten”, which means “we want to increase diversity”, which isn’t inaccurate so much as it just kind of makes me laugh because it doesn’t really mention anything about what type of diversity, so if we want, we could interpret this as “yes, mr. triad leader, my husband and i want to be the first gay couple to open up a restaurant in chinatown! yay diversity”

[aspected-benefic]

Prompt #2: Bargain

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Many knew that the head of the Lawrence Clan, Solomon Lawrence, perished in battle - a clash of clan factions, or a heated family feud, as word of mouth murmured. Had more people known the truth surrounding his death, would my father's grave be as flooded with gifts as it was now? Bouquets of Nymeian lilies, books, framed photographs, candles unlit due to the wax melted to the very bottom. Trinkets and jewelry bearing both the sign of Halone and the Lawrence family crest made the tombstone shine above all the others. By comparison, my 'gift' of nothing but my own presence suddenly felt self-centered... ungrateful and unforgiving in comparison. Yet, here I was, by his grave like a lost pup waiting for a master that would never return.

A gentle brush of my hand moved away some of the collected snow. My eyes gazed upon the name upon the grave marker.

Solomon Lawrence. Clan Leader. Father. Uncle. Archbishop. A friend and leader to us all. May he rest in peace in Halone's hallowed halls.

Father.

Father indeed.

Father to everyone else, perhaps, but no father to me. Perhaps if I knelt by his tombstone a little longer, it would glare at me, just like father would?

Sigh. I shook my head. I didn't come here to berate him. By that same token, surely the tombstone wouldn't berate me for wasting its time? Even now, I could hear my father's voice - a particular growl he reserved just for me. A curt snap that asked what I wanted. After all, the faster I stated my business, the faster he could leave.

I closed my eyes. No, I had to be honest with myself. I came here to look for answers... and from a deceased man no less. Answers as to why my heart felt heavy after that fated day. To why I had lost the will to fight after that battle against you. And why my spear felt so heavy, as though lodged in stone?

The more I looked at your gravestone, the easier I could envision your face. Your scowl. Your clenched teeth from your particular scowl. If you were here now in person, what would I say to you? What would I ask of you?

"Ahem."

A lovely start.

A beginning seemed like a sufficient start. But where would I begin? 'Good evening, father? Do you remember the Executioner? The one you believed would change the clan for the better? She has perished now, and along with her, her ideals to turn Hydaelyn into fodder for her destruction. Do you still believe in her? In my opinion, the citizens of Ishgard still await the day for our stone walls to turn to gold.'

Unlike my father, the tombstone remained in place just as still as it had ever been. Yet, it gave just as much of an answer as my father would had he been alive.

Could I mention the way of the spear? How I trained like a dog in order to master it, only to have our first and only taste of combat together with you walking away as I was a complete stranger? Pfft. A stranger. Was that all I was to you? I barely ever saw you. You spent more time with everyone else than me. You loved others. Praised others. Exalted others. Yet, your only son may as well have been dirt on your shoe - something to snarl at when you realized it existed, then wipe it off like it was never there. No, dirt would have been closer to you, wouldn't it? It would have stuck around longer than you would have been around me!

I slammed my spear into the ground. The sudden shhf of metal slicing through snow and dirt filled my ears. A burning sensation filled me on the inside. Anger. Rage. All those emotions I attempted to bury within.

That day... that very battle... I knew what the Executioner had planned was wrong. Yet, you and the rest of the clan believed she was right, that she would usher the Lawrence Clan to the dawning of a new era. To that end, you became what she wanted you to become. A memory as fresh as though I stand in battle now. Your fangs bared, your scales gleaming, your claws bared and ready to strike. I'm sorry, father. I had no other choice. It was either kill or be killed.

I tried to pull my spear from the ground, but it may as well have been lodged in stone. The more I tried to pull on the spear, the more I saw the voidsent you became. The more I felt that surge of power within me and the roar of a dragon as this very same spear embedded in you. And the more I saw that image, the heavier my spear became.

My fingers slipped away from said spear. No use. I may as well have more success to lift a stone pillar.

The tombstone said nothing.

I was wasting my time, just like my father would always say. I was here to attempt closure, wasn't I? Considering a lack of response I would get, I may as well say whatever was on my mind. Taking one final deep breath, I opened my mouth to speak.

"Father," I said in a whisper, my voice trembling slightly, "of what means should I have taken for you to be proud of me?"

As expected, the tombstone had nothing to say. What was I thinking? Leaving my spear behind, I walked away.

((I did angsty this time since I did silly last time. My first thought was the bargaining stage of the five stages of grief and loss. I also debated real hard about putting in flashbacks to exactly explain all the context, but in the end, I thought to leave this as-is and just leave Ash to drop some hints. Thanks to @abeat for helping me out!))

[oddyssea]

            〔   HYPERION CLASSIC: FILE I :// ONE CONDITION  〕

❝ You’re late. ❞ 

The grousing voice of Jane comes almost RIGID donning her perfect posture and PRISTINE outfit ( a perfectly ironed dress with some Christian Louboutin heels ). She’s the epitome of a woman in charge. She’s an intense ironic comparison to him. 

THE TASMANIAN DEVIL. 

A mess of a man. A flannel plaid shirt, SLEEVES rolled up and covering his tank top, SMALL CHEST FUZZ peaking from the neck line. WORN WASHED jeans crinkled at the BOOT, muddied & aged with years of good use. His hair disheveled, BEARD relatively unkempt. Jane always WHINED about HATING it. He gives her a SNIDE look. One that’s playful, his dry cruel brand of playful as he makes himself comfortable in her MODERN PORCELAIN office.

❝ No m’not. Yer meetin’ was scheduled fer three thirty an’ y’told me two so I WOULDN’ be late. I asked yer damn receptionist. ❞

HER furrowed brow and the clack of her heel against the beautiful stone flooring suggests she’s in a sheer state of disdain before she finally GRUNTS, taking her seat, one leg crossing over the other as he DARK hair is pushed from her face, THICK & SHINY like her mother’s. Or at least as Karter recalled her mentioning before.

❝ Moving on. I have a job for you. A big client asking about you. YOU specifically. Apparently they have a very niche job they’d like accomplished and they claimed that only YOUR specific set of skills would be able to completely the job. ❞ 

Karter furrows his brow, LEANING back, his legs kicked up as he hits his BOOTS on her desk, her jaw tightening at the sight of it before she CAREFULLY moves them off and shakes her head.

❝ Oh? Lil ol’ me makin’ waves? Why’re y’surprised? M’pretty sure I toldja we’d be doin’ great things... ❞ 

HE PAUSES glancing down, INDEX finger raised for a second before he puffs softly and shakes his head, air blown out from puffed out cheeks for a second as she follows his finger, her brow furrowed even FURTHER. She can ALREADY tell she’s not going to like what she’s about to hear. And after some more of his prolonged silence she draws in an IRRITATED breath.

❝ What is it? ❞ 

He purses his lips, HEAD cocking to the side.

❝ One condition. ❞ 

And there it was. She KNEW it.

❝ Karter––– ❞ 

HE LOOKS her dead in the eye, not letting her finish her statement before he continues. She was CURT with tier 1 clients. HIGH PRICE TAG jobs meant they had to give a bit of wiggle room, but there were PERKS to working as the TOP DOG in the community.

❝ One condition. ❞ 

She sighs, PINCHING the bridge of her nose, LEANED over as she shakes her head her hands smoothing out her dress for a moment before she folds her hands together.

❝ And what is that? ❞

 He leans back, BROWS raised and lips pressed together into a OVERDRAWN frown, nodding a little as if she ALREADY knows what he’s going to say and when she eyes him she knows FULL WELL she’s going to regret it.

❝ Bloodhound. ❞ 

A pause.

❝ You can’t be serious. ❞ 

He raises brows, expression unchanging as he continues to nods AS IF astonished at her ability to overlook the obvious nature of his work before he finally speaks again.

❝ As a heart attack. ❞ 

She continues, her frown down-turned softly. She KNOWS he’s not going to let up, but she’s going to REGRET it if she tries to FIGHT him on it, but there’s no getting around it. He’ll get his way, it’s a matter of her doing DAMAGE control for him all things considered.

❝ They want you. ❞ 

He laughs INCREDULOUS at the notion and with a coy grin he shrugs his shoulders softly nodding to himself for a second before continuing.

❝ We’re a package deal Janie. I NEED him. An’ he’s damn good. I ain’t doin’ th’job without’im. ❞ 

❝ Why? You don’t like ANYONE. What exactly makes him so special? ❞ 

She’s unsure. She can’t wrap her head around how a man like KARTER KANE. The Tasmanian Devil. A man who LOATHED everyone, and somehow he’d latched onto this man. A MAN she had no knowledge of who one day MANIFESTED out of nowhere. She’d heard he was a friend from the military but Karter seemed far for CHUMMY than just FRIENDSHIP. They’d worked several jobs together from what SHE’D understood. 

❝ He’s DAMN GOOD Janie. He ain’t helpless, ‘ve already started teachin’ ‘im––––an’–– ❞

HER BROW QUIRKS. She focuses on him, intently focused on his face. She’s not STUPID. She’d seen Karter with his former flame and there was ONLY one reason she could think of that Karter would NOT ONLY induct someone into the community ( especially given his track record & VIEWS on the community ) but ADVOCATE to bring them along on a hunt.

❝ And? ❞  

THE EXPRESSION on his face is ONE that’s beyond telling, HIS FEATURES hidden as he turns his head, flicking his thumb across his nose. THERE’S something about him. HE DOESN’T need to say it, she already knows why he’s doing it, but she knows he’s not going to say it. And after a moment she SIGHS heavily RUBBING her temples softly.

❝ Fine. I’ll see what I can do–––but KARTER. Don’t make me regret this. ❞ 

She’s happy for him truthfully. Karter was a STONY LONESOME man. He didn’t do well alone for long periods of time. The more he was alone the more CLOSED OFF HE WAS. His eyes were warmer these days. THIS BLOODHOUND did something. MADE HIM HAPPY. And he deserved it, SHE JUST hoped he’d be careful.

[imababblekat]

SG Decepticon HC’s

(A/N: Gonna be honest with you, I know very little to at all of anything with this AU. From what I’ve gathered from other people is it’s basically different color schemes, good guys are bad and vise versa, and different character personalities. There’s not too much canonically on it either(that i could find anyways), but from what I’ve observed is that everyone seems to have their own little interpretations of this AU anyways, so I’m not too worried about what I’ve written. Basically, I had fun doing this request lol)

~

-In this AU, Megatron's very much into the arts

-that not only includes poetry, but things like painting as well

-he also loves music, but prefers to listen rather than play; it's his way of being able to be fully immersed

-his team is very precious to him, and even though they butt helms every now and then, he wouldn't want to be the leader of any other group

-Starscream is a precious babe

-other than an interesting frame, he's also got an interesting personality

-he's super kind, and down to earth, even if every once in a while he can be a little rambunctious(but that's due in part to his young age)

-his favorite activity is to race through the skies and perform the most daring stunts; often nearly giving Meg's a spark attack but that’s only because he's a caring dad

-Blackarachnia love, love, loves organic life

-she finds their biology very interesting in comparison to theirs(well part of her at least)

-speaking of which, she also likes studying organic's to better understand her other half

-her biggest dream is to meet a human who doesn't want to burn her or her teams sparks out, but for now she'll just happily stick to animals and give them sweet scritches or pets

-totally a dog gal

-Lugnut's very quiet and likes keeping to himself

-while it's not often, he's the one who butts helms with Megatron the most

-he's incredibly smart; his berth room is stacked to the brim with books

-don't let his giant, clawed servos fool you; they're very fluid when at work, like fixing abandoned/damaged books he saves from dumpsters

-Blitzwing is so unified it doesn't even seem like he's got three persona's within him; each acting accordingly to the situation at hand

-often times a persona will show up when a certain power is needed, or one can handle a situation better then the other

-Icy's very happy and usually the personality that pops up when one of his friends need some cheering up

-Hot Head's pretty shy and reserved, but if someone needs somebody to listen to them as they rant they'll go to him, which he honestly doesn't mind since it's hard for him to make initial contact

-Random is inquisitive, smart, and a bit straightforward

-if someone needs help with something they'll go to him as he's a very good problem solver

-Random's the best to talk to if you're looking for advice, just be aware that he can be a bit curt at times 

~xXx~

[thirsty-cable-posts]

I want to read a cable x reader where Cable is super down about leaving his family in the past and he’s only got the reader to lean on. He opens up to them and it leads to angsty sexy time.

First of all, I just wanna say that I’m really grateful for the prompts that have been submitted so far. I wasn’t sure how well this blog would do in the shadow of its big brother @thirsty-venom-posts, but y’all have demonstrated that the Cable Thirst Club is STRONG. Now, on with the show.

—-

It’s 3am and you’re sitting at the kitchen table with a scotch and Perrier. You’re sticky. There’s blood on your dress, in your hair, under your fingernails. The dress is likely ruined. That’s fine. You’ll buy a new one. Nothing really matters right now. You’re exhausted beyond care. You may even crawl into bed without taking a shower. But for now, you have the kitchen to yourself in this big, quiet house. And an empty, quiet kitchen is a rare thing at the X-Mansion.

—-

Your date went poorly that night, as they often do, so you jumped at the chance to ditch your would-be suitor to drive about 20 minutes outside of the city to a small cattle farm owned by an elderly gentleman and his wife. You walked into the barn, still in your dress and heels, and a camel pea coat that you never intended to wear in a barn. It was cold. It’s always cold during calving season. You could see your breath, and you could see the breath of the laboring black cow laying on her side in a bed of straw.

Small scale cattle farming is an ailing industry and the cost of a farm call on a Saturday is in the triple digits. Your reputation as a cheaper alternative to a veterinarian means that occasionally you get a phone call from someone who got your name from so-and-so, and they need someone to come out and look at a sheep who got mauled by a dog or a calf that isn’t nursing or a goat that got his horns stuck in a fence. This was one of those nights.

Later on, the regret over your decisions to pull the calf instead of attempting a C-section would tug at you in a painful way. Contrary to popular belief, ranching and cattle farming is not an occupation devoid of sympathy and devotion to the animals. But hind sight is 20/20 and you’d decided to grab a set of chains and pull the calf. The process was slow and labor intensive. The resulting hemorrhage coated you in blood. You tried desperately to stop the bleeding, and the pained look on the cow’s face made you want to crawl under a rock when she finally died. But the little calf lived. It was kismet that another cow had lost her baby that night. You skinned the dead calf, which is a grotesque process in itself. Then you tied the skin to the living, breathing newborn calf with some hay rope. The mama, still distraught and baying mournfully, recognized the scent of her dead baby and allowed the orphaned calf to nurse.

—-

You’re well on your way to a fine, numbing buzz as you stare straight ahead, replaying the events of the evening over and over behind your eyes. Cable’s Voice startles you out of your daze.

“Well look who the cat dragged in.”

You do not particularly like Cable, and you are not in the mood to explain yourself to him. A wellspring of compassion and sympathy, Cable is not. You do not trust yourself not to let a few tears leak out in the recounting of the night’s adventure in animal husbandry. You do not trust Cable not to dismiss your feelings of shame and guilt over the decision that led to that poor pregnant cow’s bloody end.

You sigh. “Listen, I’ve had a rough night. If I woke you up when I came in, you have my sincere apologies. I’m going to bed soon.”

You’re trying to head off any unpleasant interactions with Cable, who is notoriously curt and has been nothing but short with you since moving in to the mansion.

Cable walks into the kitchen and grabs a glass from the cabinet. He pours himself three fingers of scotch, neat and tidy, and passes a disapproving look over your Perrier. “You drink like a toddler.”

That’s quite enough. You run a hand through your hair and close your eyes. The tears feel hotter than hot.

“Can you just not? Can you just not for, like, 5 minutes?”

You feel a large hand on your back, rubbing gently between your shoulder blades.

“Hey doll. Hey.”

You lay your head in your hands and sob. Cable places his hand on the back of your head and makes circles in your hair with his thumb.

“Grab a shower and get some sleep, kid. You need it.”

—-

You’re not sad. You’re just tired. You’re tired and you don’t have any great need for company at the moment. The laundry room is a perfectly decent place to be alone. You’d slept until noon and then decided to try and salvage your bloody dress. The rhythm of the washing machine is soothing and listening to it with your back to the wall and your head between your knees makes it sound like you’re near the ocean.

“Ah, this is the second time I’ve been able to sneak up on you in 24 hours. You’re off your game, princess.”

Cable offers you his human hand, lifting you up to your feet.

“Go change out of your jammies, sleeping beauty. We’re going out for pizza and beer. My treat.”

—-

The pizza and beer was just small talk and swapping stories. It wasn’t until the ice cream that things got heavy. Cable opened up to you in a way that was startling at first. It truth, the loss of his family made your failure to save a cow seem like an emotional pinprick by comparison. Hearing Cable’s voice crack ever so slightly, watching him squint and cough in the retelling of it, the experience made you regret your shortness with him the previous night.

Cable is less of a bully to you now, and more of a tragic hero. Imagining him with a wife, with a daughter - you’d never pictured him as a lover, a father, as someone capable of affection. The idea of Cable The Devoted Husband and Nurturing Father would make you chuckle were it not so profoundly sad that he lost the two loves of his life.

Now, sitting together on the couch in the den shotgunning American Dad on Netflix, he still strikes an imposing figure, but you don’t dislike him. And when he puts an arm over you, your stomach clenches out of a strange sense of excitement.

—-

Okay, so there absolutely will be a Part II and it will absolutely be NSFW. It’s a start, right?

I hope this is (at least in part) a decent interpretation of the prompt. And again, there will be a smutty Part II, so fear not, gentle readers!

[insane-control-room]

brash

He really should have counted those pills before shoving them in his mouth.

[WARNING: OVERDOSE]

Willy groaned and put the pillow against his head harder, trying to sooth the pain, succeeding in only making it spread. His cell buzzed again, making him wince and curl up tighter. His head pounded. Not in a dull, deal with it headache kind of way, but the sharp, don't move or it'll break you kind of way. He hated it. It made him feel different to his normal preferences and values. For instance, normally he loved spending time with his brother and Shawn and Eska, and all the wonderful people at the studio, but when a migraine hit him, he honestly could tell them to go fuck themselves. Usually, he tried to be as courteous as possible, but today, he was snappish and lashing out. Airgead, the puppy Eska had given him out of the blue the day before, whimpered empathetically, curling up by his chest. He pressed his face to Airgead's chest. Like owner, the dog had already infused with a smell, however, unlike Willy's ever present lavender, Airgead smelled of mint. Willy's head continued to throb. All he wanted to do was sleep. Even, excuse his curtness, death seemed unappealing in comparison to just closing his eyes and falling asleep. He forced himself up, feeling the blood rush in his skull. He gripped some of his hair as he stumbled to the bathroom, pulling open the medicine cabinet, squinting through his pain to find the sleeping pills, grabbing the canister and bringing it to his bedside. He hadn't had any since before his basic training days, and he really should have thought of the consequences of taking them now. He poured some into his hand, putting the bottle on his bedside, it rolling off and clattering to the floor. He closed his eyes as another wave of nausea crossed over him from the slight noise. He was breathing hard when he opened his eyes. He saw three pills in his hand (weren't there more before?) and popped them in his mouth. He felt the drowsiness kick in instantly through his pain, and his lips twitched into a smile as he flopped back onto the bed, not bothering to cover himself with the sheets, legs hanging off the side, he was too damn exhausted. Airgead curled up beside him. And he fell asleep, and at the last moment panicked even as he lost consciousness. There were three major problems:

There had been seventeen pills.

He put back none.

He was a narcoleptic with memory lapses.

All of those added up to the fact he overdosed and could do nothing about it.

The worst part was that they were all going to think he did it on purpose.

*****

Wally came back with a bundle of groceries. Shawn helped him carry some in, followed by Sammy and Thomas. Sammy was gushing over a performance he had seen the day before, Thomas gladly listening. Airgead rushed into the room, instantly jumping on Wally, nipping the bottom of his jeans, whining and trying to drag him to another room.

"Hey, hey," Wally chuckled, patting the pup's head. "Just a sec, air head."

"Airgead!" Shawn indignantly corrected. "Say it right, you air head!"

"Aw, shush, you lace curtain!" Wally insulted in Boston. Shawn looked confused, as did the other's. Airgead howled, headbumping Wally's ankle. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. Sheesh. Demanding, aren't ya?"

Airgead lead him to Willy's room, jumping on the bed and nudging his master's face with a whine. Wally sighed.

"He's just takin' a nap, is all," he reasoned, reaching for Airgead. The puppy yipped, leaping away and running under the bed. Wally made an agitated noise, getting down to get him out from there. "C'mon, Airy, you can't stay down he..." his hand brushed the pill bottle. Pills were scattered all over the floor. He looked closer at his brother. His chest was rising and falling irregularly. He grabbed his brother's hand. Inflamed and hot, pulsing way too fast for someone to be just sleeping. Wally's eyes widened; "holy shit... dammit! Wake up, Wilbur, you dunce! Someone, quick! Call an ambulance!"

"What happened?" Shawn demanded, running in, cell phone out, emergency number punched in already. His jaw dropped, and he turned to speak into the receiver. "Overdose! Uh, he's twenty two... what type of pills are those? Benzedrine Sulfate... for narcolepsy and depression... I don't know! I wasn't at home, or this wouldn't have happened!"

He was yelling now, on the verge of breaking down. Thomas snatched the phone away.

"Excuse me, but we need an ambulance," he rumbled authoritatively. "We do not know when the overdose occurred, and we don't want this to turn fatal. No, he's his..." he looked to Shawn for permission. Shawn nodded. "boyfriend. Yes, he has a brother, and yes, he's here, but he's panicking over his twin! Now, can you please send someone? Thank you."

"He'll be fine," Sammy assured Wally, who appeared to be in a shock. "At least, I'm pretty sure he'll be fine."

"I know," he replied sullenly, gripping the orange bottle. "I'm... kind of... mad, y-ya know? Heh, he promised he'd talk about doin' stuff like this if he wanted to... and he said he wouldn't just jump on it... ya get me?"

"Yeah," Shawn breathed, gazing out the window. He stirred out of his thoughts, pulling out his phone to contact Eska. As much as he wasn't the most comfortable around the guy, he still was Willy's best friend. "But we don't know the whole story. He is a narcoleptic, after all. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt and say this was an accident."

"I agree with Shawn," Thomas muttered. He wrapped an arm around Wally. "Also, Willy is scarily more... planning. If this was on purpose, he never would have left the pills out. He wouldn't have been sloppy about it."

The ambulance arrived. Willy was taken on, Wally going with him and without any objections. Wally held his brother's hand. Willy's fingers tightened around his. He prayed it was an accident.

*****

The room was bright and unnatural, and made Eska recall bad times. Willy looked defiant and soft compared to the hard synthetic around him. Eska calmed when he saw his friend, going over to his bedside to loom over him. Wally dozed in the chair. Willy flinched, as though trying to wake up. A smile touched Eska's non-visible lips. He nuzzled Willy's head, inhaling lavender. His heart twinged, scars crisscrossed on his best friend's arms coming into view as he shifted. Shawn quietly entered, acknowledging Eska with a nod and sitting on the edge of the bed. Silence for a few minutes, until a gasp, Willy shooting up, waking Wally with a jerk.

"I didn't mean to, I swear!" he shouted, the first thing that came out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, I just wanted three! I didn't mean to take seventeen!"

"Well, there's that answered," a young doctor joked, coming in with a clipboard. "I'm Dr. Gratuity Shannor, trauma specialist. And, Mr. Wilbur Franks, since you're up, I'm pleased to tell you that you can go out of here tomorrow. Not today, since it's too late for us to let you out. Also, visiting hours are over, sorry. Only one can stay overnight."

"Um..." Wally hesitated. "Shawn or Eska can. As long as you promise to talk to me tomorrow, 'kay bro? You gave me a scare."

"Sorry," he mumbled, leaning back onto the bed. "Yeah. I'll try."

Eska pointed frantically at Shawn. There was no way he was spending another night in a hospital. He waved to the two as he left. A small hand touched him.

"Eska, right?" the doctor gently asked. He stared. "Um, in case some of the freaks in the mental ward lock you up again, you can count on me to get you out of there. I hate them too."

Eska blinked, then nodded. And then he was gone.

Shawn got up, briskly walked to the door, exchanged a quick few words with Gratuity, then closed the door, locking it behind himself. He got onto the bed, crawling over to Willy with a glint in his eye. He leaned down to hiss into Willy's ear, sending chills up his spine.

"Never do that again," he growled. Willy held his breath as Shawn nipped his ear. Shawn wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close to spoon him. Willy pressed his back against his chest. Shawn smelled lavender, hugging Willy tighter. "I love you, but you did scare me, too."

"Sorry," Willy whispered, dozing off again. "I love you."

*****

Willy woke up to Shawn pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck. He pushed back a smile, amused... until Shawn licked him. He let out an indignant squeak.

"Shawn!" he hissed, blush creeping onto his face. "We are in a hospital!"

"So?" he spitefully asked, hand sliding forward to fondle Willy's hip. "It's one AM and there are no cameras. I asked."

"What the hell Shawn?!" Willy asked, unsure if he should be bemused or appalled. Shawn only replied by slipping his hand onto Willy's stomach, feather light touches before dragging his nails down. Shawn gagged him by covering his mouth with his free hand. He growled into his hand, before Shawn's hand moved to explore (and exploit) his chest. His back arched, Shawn pulling his hips back. "Mmm! Swnn! Mfph!"

"Moanin' my name already?" Shawn chuckled, groping at Willy's hip, feeling down his leg. The dark skinned man groaned at his touch, but pulled away from him anyways. Shawn pouted. "Aw, c'mon."

"Uh uh," Willy pushed away. "What's gotten into you? Are you alright, Shawn?"

"I'm fine," he replied, but his voice wavered. "Just... fine."

"Love, please tell me what's wrong," Willy cupped his cheek. "I'm so sorry... about earlier. Is there anything else eatin' at ya?"

"No..." he answered, looking away. He moved closer to Willy, hoping to get a kiss. Willy ran his hands through chocolate hair, one stopping at the back of his neck to tug him close, lips meeting. "I just love you so much... you're so beautiful and I don't want to loose you."

"You won't," Willy murmured, pulling him closer. "I'll be right here."

*****

Willy and Shawn returned home together the next day, both of them quiet and gentle. Shawn's arm was slung around Willy's waist. Wally greeted them, before going on a tangent rant to Willy about communication. Willy wholeheartedly agreed. Eska appeared at some point, scooping Willy up, hugging him tightly and not letting him go, growling when Shawn came near. Willy laughed at Shawn's bewildered expression.

Willy set up a mental sleep schedule. At least, he planned to. Right after this doze. He'll get to it, eventually, probably. Then again, napping with Eska and/or Shawn always sounded like a nice idea. Who needs healthy sleep patterns, anyways? His eyes slid over the room. They rested on Wally. Yeah. His brother would benefit from not having to worry about him more than he does. A sleep schedule. Right. He'll make one. His eyes drifted shut. He was exhausted. At least his head didn't hurt. That was one minor plus.

*****

Jericho helped. A lot. The bar tender actually had a multitude of tips for sleeping right. He helped him set up an actual sleep schedule, and some hours for sleeping weren't at night, and Jericho explained "t'at way, ya narcalapsy ain't ganna bather ya so mach." It was a solid plan. Willy thanked his half brother profusely. Jericho laughed it off, telling him to thank him by actually using the schedule.

*****

Petunia really tried her best to help, but seemed to have more trouble with sleeping than Willy. He directed her to Jericho.

*****

Wally helped the most, just by being around. Willy wanted to keep his brother happy, and if this would help, so be it.

Also, he did enjoy waking up and not wanting to go right back to bed.

[m58]

A review of Peter Dent’s ‘Yarn’

Copy No-One

Peter Dent Yarn (Leafe 2021), citation p36; as nettles and ivy permit (Kaleidikon 2020) edition of 50

An alternative rendering of the title might be to copy only oneself, although as Dent elaborated ‘Copy no-one was my mantra until I’d tasted the best of what is and discovered ‘provenance’’ (p36). Dent that is is highly original but his inspiration neither is entirely without precedence. He has been writing inventive poetry for a long time now, since Proxima Centauri (1972) from Agenda, very often in short run limited editions. Dent has thus far resisted any compelling impetus to compile a Selected. Actually the copying motif is no doubt highly pertinent now given the essential status of appropriation among the avant-garde Conceptualists. Dent was also editor and publisher of Interim Press from 1975 to ’87.

It is worth recalling again that I first came across Dent’s writing in the Stride/Shearsman anthology A State of Independence (1998) for the spare and stirring sequence ‘Naming Nothing’, which I still regard highly, and is probably a good place to start for making sense of this poetry. Another highpoint is likely a trilogy of books from Shearsman;- Handmade Equations (2005), Tripping Daylight (2012), and A Wind-Up Collider (2019), by way of retrospect.

Working in favour of this writing is its originality and lack of pretension; it comes without inordinate claims and has a way of affecting or settling into the mind. That said I’d say Peter Dent clearly enjoys writing and is unequivocal about playing the authorial part. Like a number of others he is not averse on occasion to ephemeral private publication, though these works are generally in short runs, as we find for instance with as nettles and ivy permit.

I suspect then there is a sense in which Dent’s writing is not imposing; no grand claims; no reaching out or pushing for authority. And of course this is a little deceptive, like an underdog peculiarly fit for rigours of comparison.

We are here however certainly encountering a late phase in Peter Dent’s (b.1938) poetic trail. I don’t doubt one really has not, if anything else, the energy for it. That said, for mature work I’d say it is very accomplished, the mind in so many ways as perceptual and delineatory, discriminatory as ever.

Yarn naturally takes on both meanings of the word, but this is a collection of some 61 prose poetry pieces rather than any larger narrative. The self deprecatory note is apparent right off from the first poem, ‘At Least One Yarn’s Died the Death’. The homemade white yarn glove on the cover is also short of a couple of fingers. This piece does actually have a self-contained argument winding its way through;- ‘The school closed long ago’, ‘the 20th Century’s lost its way here’, recuperative action may be required but ‘it will mean more than walking the dog’ in that ‘Students are now topographically challenged’ where ‘Playgrounds fly only branded kites’. (p7) It’s a bit of a melancholy observation, Dent himself was a school teacher, but it can hardly be denied the acute and penetrating perception of these linked up observances. There seems to be some sort of recognition that students lack the capability of mobility that once promised and motivated challenges of moving higher or on.

This sense of perhaps opportunities curbed or lost continues in the second poem, ‘A Yarn Found Wanting’ which begins ‘The carnival was only too obviously over’ (p.8). Although this rather elegiac note seems to approach a kind of resolving cast in the third ‘One Yarn to Another’,- ‘I don’t mind what you do: being words only you can always listen to their song.’ (end p.9) There is a muted social commentary here that is perhaps for others to more fully if not prosaically work out.

‘Yarn with Black and Maroon’ that closes the collection returns to this quality of perceptiveness. It consists of three ‘deliberations’, which it is tempting to ascribe as students’ guides. These are,- ‘My shadow makes to light everything I owe’ (somewhat paraphrasing); ‘A road of the circumstances of my understanding’; and ‘Sometimes necessary to close down words too manic to fit’. This verges on a highly truncated ars poetica, while also nothing so obviously grand.

That first deliberation discusses a bringing to light but also a no doubt ethical question of what is ‘owed’. And this plainly also reverts back to the writing, as, say, ‘what is owed in writing’. This suggests to me the way so many of us are caught up as a ‘community’, albeit a highly dispersed one, of writers. We very likely often take on writing not for the obvious lure of fame, fortune and bestselling, but out of an effort of communication with and between those who matter to us, a certain quality of care, attention, craft and the workmanlike.

Dent’s gripping and multi-varied renderings of language are highlighted at many instances through the book. There is for instance a very charming observation on page 49,- ‘Only love and art have the faintest who I am’ which is succinct as well as unexpected. Another memorable rendering occurs just before this,-

            ‘half out the door I’m seeking alliance with simply what              at any given time and in any place actually IS.’   (p.45)

‘Yarn Warp’ (p.21) has some highly adventurous phrasing to encounter,-

            ‘I’m a latch-key liberal independent and a pro-future sky-              diver with an early-onset appetite for even slower slow-              cooking. I’m a multi-bit fact-fake deviant after my tea.’ (end p.21)

which is refreshing and provocative, for instance in matching ‘fact’ to ‘fake’ and contrasting ‘early-onset’ with ‘slowing’ down, not to mention concluding with questions of when to take tea.

nettles and ivy is also dispositionally quite complex. Ways of apprising this, say, might be the artwork and title, neither could be called ‘easy’ or ‘pitched to sell’, say. This intimates perhaps that much of which it speaks pertains to the inner life, including its complexities; but if probed it does yield.

I could pick out a few among numerous distinctive phrasings;-

          ‘If only I hadn’t put myself at the centre of the mystery; if           candy floss hadn’t tempted – and you not around to see.’ (‘Frailties’)

And the conclusion of ‘Palm Trees and Sandy Assignments’;-

                  ‘She thinks irresolutely about me. I

     can account for just about everything that doesn’t matter.      I can’t what does. Her whisper. Barely a breath of air.’ (‘Palm Trees’, end)

Then the penultimate ‘Imagine You Don’t’;-

     ‘She can wear her clothes out; I like her as much as she is as      she isn’t. I always stump up the necessary.’     (‘Imagine You Don’t’, end)

There is also the ‘last rehearsal’ and ‘waving goodbye’ of the final poem, ‘Ill-Informed Choices’, which I suspect many readers may pick up on. Personal pronouns don’t appear too frequently; the ‘Red Book of Refractions’ has much of the male third person.

So the pamphlet I would say is highly articulate and nuanced. There is a thread which I might describe as an awareness of seeking out or recognising in an insightful way matters of truth and deception. In all then, acutely thoughtful and unexpected. My impression is that this will hold up well to rereading; plenty going on there, as with Yarn.

Dent I can only conclude has a pretty decent grasp of philosophy and of ethics. As we find for instance in ‘Unspecified Yarns of the Moment’ he maintains that there is not the inclination to ‘put my mind between warring parties’ (p.62). And nearer the conclusion in this prose poem we arrive at ‘Thinking a letter will put things straight or fix a wise-woman’s potion is curious? If only there were different words and happier meanings.’ There are limits to what words can do. There is naturally what might be termed an interface between action and behaviour and the use of language. An accurate and incisive use of speech is no guarantor of happy episodes or endings.

Poetry can be showy or adept without necessarily offering up much in the way of novel insight or understanding. At the end of the day we are surely returned to how literature and words connect with our behaviour, thoughts and perceptions. Language might be conceded as something of a means to an end. But of course we are embroiled in it and lengthy passages of time can go by in which the use of words is not seen as particularly critical. I suspect Dent’s writing probes or at times irritates with these pertinent connections. There is and has been the effort to move forward with the language, to enjoy and explore its capacities. Albeit that these are very late entries into the game these two publications have a remarkable solidity and a kind of essentialism, whereof the expressiveness is very adequate, guided and appropriate to intent. Whence at last to reside,- ‘This is after all a road and being on it keeps me free’ (p67). Dent keeps this curt and suggestive rather than fully spelling it out, though others have well worked the road motif, as if we were not always gathered into that process of getting from A to B.

Clark Allison