#Lost Woods (Trap Remix)

[maxxmmorg]

Legend of zelda lost woods dubstep remix 10 hours

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Hurry up! No time to chat Cause I got a deadline to find my way back. Basically, follow the sound of the music. Dubstep - Zelda - Lost woods remix by LegatusRj.

#Legend of zelda lost woods dubstep remix 10 hours full

There are multiple pathways and going the wrong way transports you straight back to the entrance. Create a free account to unlock the full magic and wonder of Newgrounds Zelda - Lost woods remix 2017 Share Download this song. Tip: Even thought the whole song is about 12 seconds long, and I think 8 beats long, the secret is reversing the main chords. The Lost Woods is called such for a reason. Zombies in the Hyrule field without a shield Now to deal my hookshot! Din’s fire looking hot!įairies what I should’ve got Man, these hearts are not enough Make it rain with stormy songs Owl is talking way too long The tune of the remix comes from a game called Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and it's a really great game. Ganondorf ain’t got this swag Light arrows go in his ass Watch me pass On my ride Got my Epona tonight Look at all my clothes, you say I’m flossing Red, Blue, Green to slay the bosses Dubstep Zelda lost woods Remix by legatusrj. Always straight to the point - no blind walkthrough.

#Legend of zelda lost woods dubstep remix 10 hours for free

Play over 265 million tracks for free on SoundCloud. We will defeat all bosses and collect all heart pieces, poe souls, golden bugs, hidden skills, also the new stamps and other stuff. Stream The Legend Of Zelda - Ocarina Of Time Lost Woods Song Remix by DiegoGabrielMR on desktop and mobile.

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Song of time? That’s my jam Make it rain Rupees cause I can The Legend of Zelda Twilight Princess HD (Wii U) 100 percent Walkthrough with 1080p 60fps & No Commentary Gameplay. Complete with vinyl static, this mix is essentially bass, drums, and a warm electric piano, though some pads and most notably a great trumpet that's panned hard right (doubled lower hard left) are thrown is as well, and there's some tres tasty hip-hop FX in effect to. Got my sword and ocarina To fend off hordes of awful demons If you gonna think you can get through me Then you can get on my deku seedsĪnd deku stick, I beat you with Ya’ll are fake, I see you in my Lens of truth Then I grew Into a man With the song of time Listen to Zelda - Ocarina of Time - Lost Woods Theme.mid, a free MIDI file on BitMidi. Zelda 3 Lost Woods ReMix with South Central style, hence an appropriate name. mp3, minecraft legend of zelda sound pack 1. Hero of Time is unprecedented in many ways, setting out to arrange and record with a full 64-piece orchestra the most poignant moments from the game. Any questions on using these files contact the. Ephixa - Lost Woods (Dubstep Remix) If you played Legend Of Zelda as a kid and you like Dubstep, then this should be a blast of nostalgia and sick beats in your speakers. 6 hours ago &0183 &32 FREE Bonus Lost Woods Dubstep Rap Remix by NoneLikeJoshua email protected File Name Legend of Zelda, The - Phantom Hourglass (USA) (En,Fr,Es). Got my sword and ocarina To fend off hordes of awful demons If you gonna think you can get through me Then you can get on my deku seeds. Running through the woods And without a map Listen to the sounds I found a trap. Zelda - Lost Woods (Ephixa Dubstep Remix) None Like Joshua. Read the loops section of the help area and our terms and conditions for more information on how you can use the loops. Zelda - Lost Woods (Ephixa Dubstep Remix) exibições 1.997. If you use any of these legend of zelda loops please leave your comments. Below is a full listing of Midi songs for Ocarina of Time for the Nintendo 64.Running through the woods And without a map Listen to the sounds I found a trap The free legend of zelda loops, samples and sounds listed here have been kindly uploaded by other users.

[rayveewrites]

Ray Hijacks the Team ZIT Ghostbuster AU Again

So @shadeswift99 made a few posts a while ago about a Team ZIT(S) ghostbuster AU, And then I may or may not have hijacked the post to add in ideas for most of the other hermits because why not.

Now, back then I was spitballing ideas and making them up on the spot, which is admittedly my usual writing process, but hey.

That said, I've had more time to think about it, and then last night I blacked out for a few hours and came to with a Google Doc filled with short bios for all of the hermits and a handful of hermit-adjacents. Now, this rapidly turned into an urban fantasy AU in my hands, but hey. It's fun.

This is in alphabetical order, with alternate personas (EX, Helsknight, Beetlejhost) beneath their original counterparts when applicable:

Bdubs

Lives in an old mansion in the woods alongside Doc for reasons known only to them. Bdubs works as an interior designer, with a side gig as a freelance hairdresser. His eyes are unnaturally large, similar to Keralis’, and he is at least partially a plant. Completely feral and frequently gets in trouble for having knives on him at all times. He and Cleo have a thing called Knife Club which makes everyone else nervous. Nobody messes with Knife Club. It’s not worth it. Sunbathes frequently.

Beef

Is a perfectly normal human being. He works as a butcher with a side gig as a graphic designer specializing in album covers and spends his free time playing pokemon and dragging Etho along to social events. He was the first person to spot the cryptid, and the first person who Etho approached of his own accord.

Biffa

Is a ghost possessing a robotic shell. Biffa is from the future. While initially his main goal was to get back home to his own time, Biffa has since made friends and settled down into a new life running a cafe specializing in a wide range of teas. He’s quite content with this, and has actually found himself far happier than he was in his own time. While his nature means he can see, hear and touch ghosts, his body was built specifically for a disembodied soul to be in the driver’s seat, and he doesn’t want to risk another taking control. Also, he has more important things to do than have fistfights with ghosts.

Cleo

Is a ghost possessing her own dead corpse. Her nature allows her to see, hear and touch ghosts. Can and will fistfight spirits. She works as a teacher, so she’s usually busy, but occasionally in really nasty situations the Beetlejhost will drag her in to break a ghost’s legs. Does sculpture in her free time, and is actually really good. The only one who can wrangle Beetle to any real capacity, and she’s learned to keep him on a fairly short leash. Housemates with Joe, and Keralis also pops in pretty frequently. Has Knife Club with Bdubs. Has an enchanted flower crown that prevents her from decaying further; a gift from Beetle. Recently started learning magic in the form of necromancy and illusions. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Zloy, in which she temporarily traps his soul in random inanimate objects every now and then.

Cub

A bit of a ‘mad scientist’ archetype, Cub’s experiments are not exactly the most ethical, though they’re at least more professional than Doc’s. Responsible for the creation of Jevin. Cub gets possessed stupidly easily- sometimes willingly- and can usually handle it himself but sometimes has to call for help. Has a magical method of communication with Scar for exactly this reason. Has a day job as co-owner of a business called ConCorp, which he started with Scar. Has probably broken the Geneva Convention.

Doc

Was presumably human at one point. Now an abomination. Repeated experiments on himself have resulted in a massively changed facial and foot structure, a body covered in mottled green scales, claws, and goat horns. He lost half his face in one of his experiments, and constructed a new cybernetic one. He lost his right arm fighting God. Killed said god and would do it again. Lives in a mansion in the woods with Bdubs, though nobody’s really sure why. Owns a casino because of course he does. Also a living crime against fashion, because the man refuses to wear anything other than his tattered lab coat, torn jeans, and crocs.

Ely

Runs the local radio station. Nobody’s ever seen him in person, and nobody knows where he gets people’s voice clips for his remixes. Probably a cryptid. Maybe a ghost. Seems pretty chill, despite the blatant invasions of privacy.

Etho

Is a cryptid. Lives out in the woods in an abomination that can barely be called a house. Has never been seen in anything other than full Kakashi cosplay. Tends to keep to himself, but occasionally lets Beef drag him along to social events, often with Doc and Bdubs. Nobody really knows what his deal is. Probably not human. Probably.

False

Used to be part of an illegal underground cage fighting ring, until she earned enough to buy her way out. Having grown up in said ring, she struggles to adjust to normal life, but living in a town where the barista is a robot and the local tailor has wings makes it easier. She now has a job as security at Doc’s casino, alongside Iskall.

Grian

Is either an angel or a demigod, but nobody knows which. Has wings. Is both a tailor and an architect. A complete gremlin who has elaborate masks of various birds and will wear them to commit crimes. Eats seeds. Messes with everyone else’s plants. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats. Volunteers at the local theatre.

Hypno

Has three eyes, but hides the third one under a bandanna at all times. Can see ghosts with it. Had problems with sections of plumbing randomly getting clogged and also making very weird noises, and eventually called Team ZIT when the plumbers couldn’t find the source. Was prepared for ghosts, but wound up with a slime creature instead. Works in a $2 store for some reason.

Impulse

Is fully human. The most sensible member of Team ZIT (which admittedly isn’t saying much), Impulse has a day job as a freelancer building custom PCs and fixing broken tech. Agreed to the whole ghostbusting deal because he was bored, mostly. Was the first one to meet Skizz face-to-face, and is the one to own that particular place outright. Gets possessed every now and then, usually by larger spirits. Used to run solely on caffeine and chronic anxiety until Zedaph started getting on his case about his sleep schedule. Now he runs on less caffeine, more sleep, and the same amount of chronic anxiety.

Iskall

Was part of a cloning experiment to create the ultimate hitman, and was the only known one to both survive and escape before the whole thing was shut down by the authorities. Their eye and arm were replaced with cybernetics in order to increase their already enhanced abilities, and they were chased by said authorities, eventually winding up on Mumbo’s doorstep and becoming Mumbo’s problem. Now works as security at Doc’s casino, alongside False. Lives at Jungle Wood flats. Occasionally volunteers at the local theatre. Does bonsai as a hobby.

Jevin

Is the slime creature in the pipes. Hypno lets him live with him under the condition he stops blocking the plumbing and making weird noises at 3 AM (Jevin still blocks the plumbing and makes weird noises at 3 AM, just not as much as he was). Has taught himself to take a humanoid shape, and likes having fingers. Sleeps in the bathtub because he can. Was created from a vat of chemicals in a secret lab underneath the house, which used to be owned by Cub. Doesn’t really talk to the man in question that much, but will occasionally refer to Cub as his father for the sole reason of watching him go through eight existential crises in three minutes. Has a glock.

Joe

Head librarian at the local public library, and has read a lot of books on Supernatural Things. Is a veritable fountain of exposition if you can figure out what he’s saying or have Cleo along with you to threaten the integrity of his shins. Has never been seen in the same place as the Beetlejhost. Are they the same person? Are they entirely separate beings? Is there a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde-type situation going on? Who knows!

Beetlejhost

Literally nobody really knows what his deal is. Nobody. Team ZIT ran into him on a call that they expected to be a false alarm and then he decided to follow them home. Spends most of his time being a minor nuisance in the most bizarre ways possible. Is implied to be responsible for the Ever Given getting lodged in the Suez Canal, but never confirmed. When he’s not bothering Team ZIT or getting them out of tight spots, he’s usually pestering Cleo, the only one who can keep him in line. It’s not really known if he and Cleo have a history or if they’re just Like That.

Keralis

Is a ghost haunting an architecture firm, and is mostly bound to the building, though he can travel to other buildings the firm has built, which is, uh, most of them. Initially only able to do small things- mostly writing notes or drawing diagrams- he eventually meets the Beetlejhost when the latter follows Mumbo to work one day for shits and giggles (he wanted to see how long he could mess with Mumbo before the man noticed. As it turned out, about a week, and by the end it was Iskall who noticed). After a couple of days in which Beetle teaches Keralis Ghost Things™, he scares half the office when he finally manifests for the first time. Has unnaturally large eyes and nicknames for most of the workers. Has no idea how he died or what his unfinished business might be. Very knowledgeable about architecture, and his input is usually very much appreciated.

Mumbo

Is a perfectly normal human being who does IT at Keralis’ architecture firm. Lives at Jungle Wood flats and spends most of his free time tinkering with tech and trying to keep Grian and Iskall out of trouble, which is a losing battle. Has a large, beating golden heart in his flat. He’s not really sure what its deal is, but if he feeds it apples it produces enough power for the entire building. Oh, and if he forgets to feed it for an extended period of time it starts draining his bank account. It’s really weird.

Pixlriffs

Was a perfectly normal human being until he died protecting a certain Russian zombie and became a perfectly normal ghost. Was a reporter in life and is a reporter in death. Runs a blog alongside Zloy about the local goings-on, supernatural or not. The blog’s the type where unless you live in/near the town you most likely won’t stumble across it, but they do have a small following of outsiders who assume the blog’s just a work of fiction. His unfinished business is to prevent Zloy from doing anything particularly stupid, a constant battle. Is able to go more places than Zloy due to being incorporeal, but respects people’s privacy. He’s bound to Zloy to a certain degree, not being able to go beyond a certain range of his friend. The range is pretty big, though, and he has plenty freedom of movement.

Python

Had a run-in with the fae as a kid, in which he accidentally pissed one off. In retribution, the faerie challenged him to answer a riddle or he’d be turned into a snake. Python’s answer was partially correct, so the faerie only transformed him partially. Python is fairly chill, though he strongly dislikes the cold and starts hissing if anyone disturbs him during Sun Time™. Sometimes Bdubs, being partially flora, joins Python for Sun Time™. He’s not venomous, because, you know...python. Also, he has a mildly disturbing habit of strangling rats and mice and then eating them whole, but he can’t help it and just tries not to do so when he has company.

Ren

Is a werewolf. He’s pretty chill regardless of form, though it’s only been recently he’s been comfortable enough leaving his ears and tail visible. He works as a lumberjack. One time Pixl introduced him to Monty Python’s Lumberjack Song and it quickly became his favourite thing. He spends most of his free time volunteering at the local theatre because Ren is absolutely a theatre kid and nobody can convince me otherwise. Gets possessed every now and then. Lives in Jungle Wood flats.

Scar

Works as a landscape developer. Gets possessed absurdly easily, though not quite as frequently as Cub. Has a magical method of communication with him. Technically co-owns ConCorp, but isn’t as involved. His cat, Jellie, is very obviously an eldritch abomination in feline form and he is comedically unaware of this. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats with Grian, Iskall, Mumbo, Stress, and Ren.

Skizz

Is the ghost haunting Team ZIT’s office. He was murdered by someone he’d thought was a friend who was trying to use his place to hide from the cops, and he’s stuck around, haunting the building. His unfinished business is to make sure nobody else uses the building for anyone shady, but the ghost rumours tended to chase most people off. Eventually he gets used to having Team ZIT around, and when Tango admits he doesn’t really have anywhere to go one day, Skizz eventually makes the decision to finally unlock the still-furnished upper floor for him. He’s bound to the building, but Impulse learns that carrying Skizz’s old vest with them allows him to leave. After that, Skizz sometimes accompanies them on missions and occasionally just hanging out. He’s usually more helpful than the Beetlejhost is.

Stress

Is a witch. Stress lives in Jungle Wood Flats and works as a doctor who specializes in supernaturally caused injuries- Team ZIT are some of her best customers. She also sells magic potions of various kinds, and has a side gig as a florist. She’s 90% of the Jungle inhabitants’ impulse control. Also has cryokinesis.

Tango

The Team ZIT member with a car. He gets possessed with frankly ridiculous frequency, but claims not to believe in ghosts for a long time (and keeps up the bit for even longer). Has developed various signals to indicate when he’s being possessed again. The strongest one, a rather nasty demon Cleo and the Beetlejhost had to team up on, left him with his glowing red eyes. He didn’t really have anywhere to go before Impulse bought the office, and tended to sleep on the couch or in his car until Skizz decided to let him into the upper floor, where he now lives alongside Zedaph and Impulse.

TFC

A now-retired ghostbuster, TFC calls in Team ZIT one night when he finds himself in over his head against a ghost with a grudge. He winds up becoming a bit of a mentor figure to the trio, usually coaching them over the phone if they’re not sure how to deal with one of the stranger spirits. Lost his leg years ago in a fight with a poltergeist that could have gone better, and now has a robotic prosthetic made by Doc.

Wels

While Team ZIT was out investigating some rumour or another in the woods, they came across a large stone box. Following video game logic, I guess, they then decided opening this large stone box sounded like a fun idea. Well, Tango and Zedaph did. Impulse was a bit more hesitant. The box actually held a medieval knight who’d been put in an enchanted sleep for centuries by his demonic doppelgänger, and was very much not prepared for modern life. Team ZIT took him to Xisuma, who happened to live closest, and Wels is currently helping out on the farm and trying to adjust to life in the 21st century. He can understand and speak modern English just fine because magic. Volunteers at the local theatre quite a lot.

Hels

Is Wels’ doppelgänger. Technically a minor demon. Won a fight with Wels and sealed him away for centuries as a result. A recurring problem. His real motivation is that he really desperately doesn’t want to go back to Hell, but he’s too proud to admit it. Lives in the woods with EX, who’s basically his only friend, though the weirdo with the brown cardigan keeps pestering him about his backstory and feelings for some reason. Has minor pyrokinesis.

XB

Like Biffa, XB is also a ghost from the future, though it seems to be a different timeline than Biffa’s. His unfinished business is preventing the apocalypse, but he has no idea how to do that, no idea if he’s in the right timeline, and is pretty sure he’s gone back a lot farther than he probably should’ve. Also, there’s the whole paradox issue, where if he prevents the apocalypse he never has a reason to go back and prevent the apocalypse, so he doesn’t prevent the apocalypse, so he has to go back and- he tries not to think about it too much. He mostly just hangs out in an abandoned house on the edge of town and vibes.

Xisuma

Is a beekeeper. Nobody’s ever seen his face; when he’s not in his beekeeping outfit, he’s either wearing a helmet, or (more recently) an extremely lifelike and detailed animal mask (is it a mask?). Actually a shapeshifting alien, he crashed down to Earth after a scuffle with his evil clone and was stranded because Earth doesn’t have the right tools or resources to repair a spaceship. These days he’s actually found he’s happier tending to his bees, selling honey, and helping his friends out, and probably wouldn’t leave Earth even if he could. It’s a simpler life, but a pleasant one. He bonds with Biffa over a shared love of tea and being stranded in a technologically inferior world and finding a home.

Evil Xisuma

Is Xisuma’s clone. Feels that if everyone’s going to call him ‘Evil’ he may as well own it. Shot his original’s spaceship down in a scuffle but wound up being brought down with him. Currently hides in the woods. Generally more of a minor nuisance than an actual danger. Used to spend his free time bothering X but has gotten put off by Wels, who has a problem when it comes to evil clones. His friends consist of Hels, who is a terrible role model, and Zedaph, who’s trying to help him work through his problems behind everyone’s backs. Can summon lightning because he deserves it.

Zedaph

Is the reason Team ZIT is ghostbusting in the first place. He’s a sheep shearer by trade, but that’s a fairly seasonal thing and ghostbusting is more fun anyway. Has somehow never been possessed, and claims it’s because he’s always standing next to Tango. He makes sure the other two gets enough sleep Because we all know they can’t be trusted to do it. Probably has some sort of really bizarre and situational magical powers he is thoroughly unaware of. Qualified to be a licensed therapist. Made friends with Evil X at one point, somehow.

Zloy

Like Cleo, he’s a ghost possessing a corpse. Unlike Cleo, there’s a good chance it’s not his corpse. Eh, it’s not like anyone else was using it. Runs a blog with Pixl, because why not. Was already a zombie when he met Pixl, who was still alive at the time. His body is a bit more decayed than Cleo’s, but it’s fine. His goggles are enchanted with the same preservation spell; it’s not really ever explained where he got them from. Has no regard for privacy but is fortunately unable to turn invisible or phase through walls due to inhabiting a physical body. Both can theoretically physically fight ghosts and has enough time to physically fight ghosts, meaning he would be a valuable ally if he could be bothered. Lives in a graveyard. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Cleo, in which he puts jabs at her on the blog. Once spent a week as a (very sarcastic) floating potato.

Hermiton

Is the name of the place they all live in/near. Located in an ambiguous location in an ambiguous country, Hermiton is technically large enough to be considered a city but has Town VibesTM. Supernatural going-ons are a fairly normal part of life, and a good number of inhabitants aren’t humans. Despite this, the wider world seems mostly ignorant of the existence of ghosts, magic, etc. I’m not too sure about geography, but it’s surrounded by forest in most directions and in a warm enough climate to not have snow in the winter (so Python doesn’t, you know, freeze to death). Most people don’t tend to bat an eyelid at strange-looking people walking down the street or serving them at the store; they’re used to it by now. There are several theories as to why Hermiton specifically has so much going on when it comes to the supernatural- ley lines, secretly the resting place of some long-forgotten god, et cetera- but it’s actually more of a case of ‘people who have supernatural traits hear rumours of a place where a lot of people have supernatural traits and go there in search of answers/a place to belong’. This doesn’t exactly explain where all the ghosts came from, but hey. Nothing’s perfect.

[flowerflamestars]

Okay okay I just read your jaw dropping post about how acotar would be with Nesta Under the Mountain and now I’m curious: does Rhys meets Feyre? Cassian and Nesta’s first encounter, how does it goes like? LUCIEN AND AZRIEL SLOW BURN “STRANGERS” TO LOVERS? Nesta wouldn’t be stupid to let her sisters be kidnapped by Hybern, so how do they get changed into Fae? And DO they get changed? I’ve got a thousands questions now

OKAY YES- Nesta Under the Mountain, acomaf remix:

First, I just want to pause to highlight the chaos factor here. What happens after Amarantha and Tamlin die? Rhysand, bound by magical contract and also Dramatique, nopes out, bringing Lucien and Nesta.

And he’s a mess. It’s relief, it’s half a century of unimaginable torture. He needs a bath. He needs to lay in bed for a week before he speaks to another living person. Instead, he takes them to his moonstone palace.

Does he rest? Plan? Go find his friends who are screaming at his mental shields?

No. He gives Nesta and Lucien rooms, and proceeds to have breakfast with them while flirting with Nesta, so he can pretend everything is fine.

To say Nesta is feeling A Lot is an understatement. She has zero Tamlin murder regrets- and many, many, I came back to life and got kidnapped again regrets. She does take a bath. Washes off the blood, braids her hair, tries not to look at her freaky faery face, looks for clothes. Is unimpressed beyond measure at crop top sheer ensembles, and goes looking for Lucien.

Swathed in turquoise silks, doing that thing where he’s grinning but his eyes are flinty and just waiting for the next attack, he’s no better off. The robe in Nesta’s bathroom was a lace confection- the one in Lucien’s in quilted green silk. Nesta wears that.

Is still wearing it, when they show up to breakfast, Rhysand flirts- and because Nesta is an Archeron, she throws a teacup at his head.

(Lucien, beside her, buttering toast: yeah, that doesn’t work on her)

What really happens in acomaf? Love, trauma journey, betrayal. But Tamlin’s dead- and guess what family promptly sails back across the sea to seize power of Spring? Guess. No one is out here calling Nesta the Savior of Prythian. She’s not the mother, she’s the crone. Women love her, men fear her. She’s not the blessing, she’s the punishment.

Morrigan tracks down Rhys, and this is what she finds: 1 autumn prince, wearing a crop top and acidly explaining that he doesn’t give a single fuck if Spring burns. 1 devastating faery lady wearing nothing but a robe. Rhysand, with tea dripping from his hair.

Tears! Reunion! Nes & Luc, exit stage left faced with Emotions.

Nesta doesn’t need to learn to read- and she doesn’t need Rhysand’s fucking help, as she keeps saying, as he keeps doing nice things for her. Fuck off, she says, fixing her hair with the diamond pins that have mysteriously appeared on top of her book. Do not look at me like that, she threatens, catching him grinning at some insanely offensive thing she’s said about Beron.

Rhys likes Nesta. It’s not willing. Nesta...kind of hates Rhys still. Rhys is also still, A Mess- and Nesta just happens to be the sexy project in front of him. 

You didn’t make a deal for me to be a permanent house guest, she tells him.

Morrigan, to herself, a respectable wlw who, you know, met Nesta in a robe and learned ten seconds later she killed a High Lord as a human: PLEASE STAY FOREVER

Rhysand takes them to Velaris.

Lucien is devastated by the prosperity- Nesta goes straight for Rhysand’s throat- you protected one city? Rhysand says, one city, and four people. It’s the closest Nesta ever comes to respecting him, lasts three seconds. 

It takes one night for Nesta and Lucien to vanish. Dangerous and disconcerting for a few reasons- Prythian is singing songs of Nesta, and they’re songs of destruction. Lucien has a price on his head. 

But they’re not courting danger- they’re over the wall. Nesta knows a war is coming, knows she’s painted a target sky high on her back. She leaves letters for her sisters- she’s alive, she can’t come home, she’s sorry, she loves them, please please please be careful- and they spend ten hours straight setting wards around the slumbering Archeron manner.

With his usual sense of good timing, the next morning is when Rhysand trots out his work for me plan.

Hybern wants a war, and Nesta is a weapon. Lucien, who has been a rapid fire, info dump strength been trying to tell Nesta all the shit she needs to know now that she’s a faery, tells him to go to hell. 

Rhys feigns very much like that was uncalled for, unravels a few more layers of the I’m only bad as a ruse lifestyle before their eyes. 

Nesta more or less ignores him, but explains Lucien’s comment for them both: no fealty. No oaths. No games. No more fucking tattoos.

Rhys, eventually, repeats himself: work for me, I’ll pay you, you don’t need to belong.

Nesta demands a contract. Exact terms. Proof of salary. Tells Rhys, casually, that she killed one High Lord human and she’s perfectly willing to try for a second with immortality on her side.

Nesta and Lucien, private contractors. Nesta and Lucien, who also don’t really believe a word Rhysand says.

But then it’s time for dinner. To meet the Court- Nesta repeats Court of Dreams to Lucien with such lofty disbelief he’s still giggling to himself every few minutes when they get to the House of Wind.

A pause, a step back: Cassian. Cas lost his shit when Nesta died- Cassian felt her come back to life- Cassian, who has never met her, has no idea what that means. He’s been rattled around, feeling more than a little crazy- tense, unfocused, walking the streets of Velaris like he forgot something that can never be found- he also didn’t tell anyone.

Nesta Archeron walks into the House of Wind beside Lucien Vanserra, and everything stops.

It’s Rhysand’s stumbling, lightening struck, immediate oh-shit reaction, just on a very different balcony, with circumstance more different that Cassian allows himself to believe.

There she was. There was what he’d been looking for- there she was, taking a glass of wine out of Lucien’s hand.

There’s no personal story time at this dinner. There’s Cassian, dumbstruck, silent, staring. Azriel, whose good manners kick in and make him speak. Lucien, drinking. Nesta treating it like a business meeting and directly trying to establish what everyone’s jobs are.

(Also Nesta, meeting Amren, recognizing her name from fairytales she read trapped in Tamlin’s house: Do you really drink the blood of men?

Amren: Only very, very bad men who ask nicely.

Nesta’s nod in response took years off Cassian’s life.)

Nesta, child of every court. Nesta, who Rhysand keeps comparing to the Courts universal holy objects while she bites her tongue bloody. Locate, read, utilize, steal- Nesta wants it done now, wants to hamstring Hybern before he can set foot on their island.

But research takes time. So Nesta’s learning to be a faery- and breaking a ridiculous amount of things along the way- Lucien is hanging out in her shadow, free as he’s ever been in his entire adult like but also just waiting, waiting, for the axe to fall.

Everyone thinks they’re sleeping together- more importantly, even if they’re not, they’re In Love.

There’s no weaver in the wood moment- because frankly, Rhysand doesn’t want to risk that Nesta will somehow befriend her. Less Rhys in general, because Nesta doesn’t want to spend all that much time with him. 

Nesta is just in Velaris, waiting for the damn job to start. With Lucien. Sometimes Amren, or Morrigan. Often, extremely often, Cassian.

In canon, when they meet, Cassian is all set up to hate her- she didn’t protect her sister, she’s disloyal she’s- all of these terrible things that have to be proven untrue. That clash, that fighting shapes...basically everything.

This Nesta, he has every reason to admire, and it’s killing him. She saved Prythian- she killed a High Lord with her bare hands and knife Cassian wouldn’t want to use to cut an apple. She’s incredible.

She’s also the unfortunate, perfect receptacle for all of Cassian’s self worth issues. He can’t look away, which means she’s not looking. Of course she loves the son of a High Lord, who fought by her side- they survived together, they’re the same species.

So. He’s just going to quietly, miserably, love her forever. But he doesn’t actually talk to her- this is the only Cassian who has ever been quieter than Az- he just can’t. But he’s always there- passing messages from Rhys. Flying her to the House of Wind. Present. 

So he also ends up around when Lucien and Nesta decide to move on from magic training to physical training. 

And Cassian absolutely falls over himself asking to help. To train her. To make her stronger. To maybe, you know, punch him in the face.

The offering goes as badly as can be imagined, all the wrong words and blushing fury. Insulting. A mess.

Nesta does what Nesta does best. Asks him, you’ve trained how much of your own army? Cassians answer is halting but true- yes, yes the Legion’s are his lifes work.

And look, Nesta is mad at the implied insults to her and Lucien both. She’s also mad this asshole who clearly doesn’t want her here, doing the job she was hired to do and has made that clear with the silent treatment, is now intruding on her personal business.

She gets in his face. I’m not an Illyrian. I’m not a man. I will never be a soldier under your command and I don’t need your help.

(the vicious cultural sexism has, in fact, trickled down to Nesta’s knowledge quite easily. She doesn’t know Cassian’s back story.)

The knife sinks oh, so, fucking deep. Cassian who also, has never learned to back down, doesn’t fuck off. So he’s around, brooding and training himself, while Lucien teaches Nesta evil little tricks and how to move like lightening, to use weapons and magic as one.

Nessian keep fighting. Cassian also keeps finding every even slightly plausible excuse to be in her company-because now she’s looking at him.

So what, if she’ll never love him back? So what, if fucking Lucien Vanserra who flirts with everything that moves somehow earned her loyalty? Cassian is never-will never- judge or undermine her choices. Never.

He just wants to be around. To speak to her every day. So what, if the angst is burning him alive?

Interlude: the Summer Court. Rhys and Nesta go alone. 

Nesta likes Tarquin. Tarquin...is kind of more afraid of Nesta than Rhys. There’s no flirty montage, Nesta goes to hang out with Cresseida. Knows her for about a day, comes to understanding that Cresseida was the one who held Summer together under Amarantha.

Nesta tells Cresseida everything. Hybern’s coming back, they’re already making plays. They want the Cauldron, but control can be stolen with the Book. Rhysand thinks I can read it- all I want is Hybern dead.

It is, in the end, compelling. Helped along by the fact Nesta peppers in that Rhys isn’t going to ask.

There’s a fight, a battle, conditions: in the end Tarquin gives the book to Nesta. Only Nesta. For Rhys, this still works- for the Summer Court, the distinction is important. Nesta Archeron, Cauldron-blessed, the Sword of Prythian, will wield the book.

Not the blessing, the punishment.

Rhys says something very Rhys, and Nesta leaves. They’re winnowing to the same place, she can now, it doesn’t matter- but what matters is this: Nesta goes back to the House of Wind, and runs into Cassian.

She’s just carrying half the book- like that isn’t an insane, miraculous thing, and Cassian congratulates her, without saying anything stupid. 

But then Nesta sprawls down in a window seat, and starts looking at the book.

(Cassian is GOING THROUGH IT. he thought being around her was bad? Knowing she’s in another court where he can’t make sure she’s safe or okay or not having a bad day made him LOSE HIS MIND)

Which is fully what he blames for the fact that Cassian also, does not leave. Crosses his arms. Leans in the doorway like it doesn’t matter. Asks, like a moron, why Nesta isn’t looking for Lucien.

(Cassian to Cassian: SHE WAS GONE DAYS- SHE COULD HAVE BEEN HURT? WHERE IS THE CARE? THE CONCERN? THE- LUCIEN WAS AT A BAR WITH AZRIEL LAST NIGHT)

Nesta: No, I’ll see him later.

Cassian: Reunions...are important. The war is going to come faster than any of us think.

Nesta: I know?? that’s why I just spent a week in fucking sand- I’m doing my job-

Cassian: We all have so little time-

Nesta: You think I don’t know that??

Cassian: I just. I don’t understand- you have options. You have the entire world. You are the entire world, and you deserve-

Nesta: What. Exactly. Do you think I deserve?

Cassian, miserably ferocious: someone waiting when you come home. from battle. from stupid shit Rhys makes you do. You deserve everything.

Nesta, rising from the window seat, walking across the room: You’re here.

Cassian:

Nesta, rolling her eyes as she sweeps past and away: You. Were here. When I got back.

I’m going to cut this here and then post a part two! Thank you so much for asking, stay tuned :)

[theparanormalperiodical]

The True Story Behind The Blair Witch Project (1999), And The 13 Real Urban Legends About Witches That Will Make You Lie Down And Cry

It’s been mocked, and it’s been made a cultural icon.

It kick-started a horror trend, and it kicked itself down to the dregs of the film industry.

The Blair Witch Project (1999) is a point of contention among horror fans - you know, a bit like bringing up trans-rights at dinner with your UKIP Aunt sitting two seats down. But, just like trans-rights, we have to talk about it. 

(Fuck you, Jane.)

The Blair Witch Project - and her 2 sequels - was the first film to turn on the camcorder and document the search for something supernatural. 

This was the OG clickbait, this was the beginning of horror films claiming to document true events (ahem Paranormal Activity ahem), and this was the end of horror films being taken seriously.

But it was also these three things that grabbed everyone’s attention.

The original film was based on the claim that in 1994, 3 students went missing whilst exploring the supposedly haunted woods of Burkittsville Maryland. 5 years later, the footage they captured was found and put on the big screen.

Were these real events being documented?

Did these kids actually go missing?

And was the Blair Witch real?

Spoiler alert: no, nope, and not at all.

But even if this specific case wasn’t true, the film itself is unnervingly accurate. Like, literally last night I was researching all the different urban legends relating to witches in the US and I was convinced I had awoken the spirit of the Bell Witch. 

So, considering the solidarity I have with the followers of this blog, I’ve decided to traumatise you, too.

This article is going to provide the summary to the three forgotten ‘n’ fucked-up films that make up the series, tell you why the Blair Witch is an uncomfortably accurate portrayal of witches historically, and finish up with a stroll through the 13 urban legends that are just like the one featured in the film.

Pull on your hiking boots, and hand me the map.

Let’s get spooky.

Here’s A Quick Summary Of The Blair Witch Film Series

Ahh, the 90s. 

Will Smith was gettin’ jiggy with it, and Trump wasn’t President. Times were so much easier back then!

Well, not for budding film students Heather, Mike and Josh, who packed up their filming equipment in a car and headed to Burkittsville, Maryland to make a documentary about the urban legend of the Blair Witch. (The Blair Witch Project (1999))

They start off by interviewing locals, and capture a few key details that set up the rest of the film and its sequels. It is claimed that Rustin Parr was a bloke who lived in the woods and kidnapped several children in the 1940s. 

Why? Because the Blair Witch told him to do so. Two fishermen confirm the legends of the woods being haunted, and mention some lass called Robin Weaver.

Kidnapped in 1888, she returned 3 days later, claiming the witch was “an old woman whose feet never touched the ground."

Having heard the tales and waited out the warnings, they begin their journey and head to their first stop, Coffin Rock. Supposedly, 5 men were murdered in a ritualistic fashion here in the 19th century, and their bodies disappeared without a trace.

The next day, they continue their travels, and their ordeal begins. They arrive at an old cemetery which is made up of cairns (piles of rocks which turn out to have ritualistic meaning) and camp nearby. Noises are heard round the tent all night, like twigs snapping, but they reduce this to woodland creatures. 

The following day, they realise they are lost and cannot find the car. The activity escalates, but is found to be unexplainable. 

They then begin to fight between each other, and encounter a section of humanoid stick figures hanging from the trees. Their evening entertainment of weird noises around the tent resumes, but this time the laughter of children is added to the remix. Something then attacks their tent, sending them fleeing from their campsite. 

Some people will just never like dubstep.

They return to their tent, and discover that their possessions have been rifled through, and slime covers Josh’s stuff. The fighting ensues, and Josh straight-up fucks-off.

His screams are then heard one night, and Heather and Mike deduce it to be the witch’s fabrication to draw them out of their tent and into her grasp. 

Her trap is confirmed when Heather finds a bundle of sticks the next morning containing a ritualistic goody-bag containing what appears to be left of Josh. 

That same night, she records her infamous apology video in a style not dissimilar to most YouTubers who have been caught being racist/homophobic/[insert any terrible thing]. 

Once again, Josh’s screams are heard and they follow them to a house bearing demonic symbols and the bloody handprints of children. Not the aesthetic I myself would go for, but it worked for the Blair Witch...

Mike and Heather stumble into the basement, and we witness our favourite vloggers being killed in the manner described earlier in the film:

One child would face the corner of the basement while the other was being slaughtered. The last shot of the film is of Mike standing in the corner of the basement, suggesting that Heather is the first to die at the hands of the witch.

The second film (Book Of Shadows: Blair Witch 2 (2000)) follows up on these events a year after the footage was found. A gaggle of fans of the original film troop to Burkittsville to explore the legend and the circumstances of the kidnapping of Heather, Mike and Josh.

This film is messy and complicated, and it’s for that reason that I don’t want to waste 8,000 words on a film that is actually ignored by the film series. So, I’m going to give you a tl;dr, instead:

Basics, this film documents the group of fans and tourists being turned against each other by the witch. They go to the house where shit reportedly went down, and set up surveillance cameras to document potential activity.

It’s the first film, but with hell of a lot more activity. And it culminates with the symbolic hanging of someone who appears to be inciting the demonic rituals scattered across the film as they are reportedly possessed by the Blair Witch.

Unfortunately, we don’t learn anything new in this film - we simply see the greater extent of her powers.

Tired, yet? 

(Bored, perhaps?)

Our journey is almost over, and it ends with Blair Witch (2016). 

This film ignores the events of the second film, and follows a group of documentary makers as they explore the legend of the Blair Witch - but this time it's not about capturing paranormal activity. They go to investigate a peculiar video on YouTube that proves that Heather - the woman from the OG cult classic - might just be alive.

The brother of Heather leads this group, and focuses this documentary on the desire for closure.

Despite skipping out the Book of Shadows, it basically sticks to that exact premise. Surveillance cameras are set up, and showcases the witch’s methods of turning the crew on each other, but on an even greater level. We even see the witch, alongside a couple other creatures in tow...

It finally gives us behind the scenes insight into the paranormal activity, and ends with everyone dying!

Sigh. 

The Blair Witch Is Based Off Of Urban Legends - And Is Uncomfortably Similar To The Stories

Despite its many flaws, The Blair Witch Project does one thing right: we never see the witch.

But it’s the way that her control of the woods and those within it is portrayed that points to the terrifyingly accurate nature of the witch when compared to other urban legends. 

The film’s fictional legend gives up minimal information regarding the Blair Witch:

We know she was responsible for residents - especially children - going missing throughout the 18th and 20th century, and we know that the locals of Burkittsville claimed that the Blair Witch was the ghost of Elly Kedward, a woman who reportedly practiced witchcraft and was sentenced to death in 1785. 

This salem-witch-what-died-but-didnt-really-die-no-one-really-knows is a common basis of the urban legends that will be explored later in this post, but it's the other attributes of the witch that draw her even closer to the claims made around these cases.

The focus of this is that the Blair Witch represents the crone, one of the core concepts of paganism and many other ancient religions. Of the few glimpses we see of a creature that could be the witch and the descriptions of her made by the locals of Burkittsville, we piece together the image of an elderly, monstrous being.

Take this clip from the final film in the saga:

This unnatural-looking humanoid bears a resemblance to the claims of witches in folklore, such as breasts sagging below waistlines, or bones jutting out of their flesh. Add on top of this the animalistic claims from the original movie - like that one woman claiming she saw her arm which was coated with dark hair - and we arrive at a rather monstrous being.

But this animalistic account does not merely echo her ugliness; it forges the link between the witch and her powers over the woods she resides in.

As the maiden becomes the mother, and the mother becomes the crone, her connection with nature grows. It reaches the extent from which her connection with nature is greater than that of her male counterparts, threatening almighty patriarchy and cursing her as the evil witch she is!!1!

Furthermore, it's not difficult to see the links between the woods she controls, and the imagery of life and fertility. Add a smattering of rumours about kidnapped children, and the house of Rustin Parr becomes a womb. 

(Less PMS, more blood.)

More so, by harnessing the powers of nature, she blurs the boundaries between the genders. Heck, she even goes as far as to blur the boundaries between reality and the reality she creates for her victims! 

She tricks them into falling out with each other, she confuses them by creating this unnavigable wood, and she ensnares them into her invisible trap.

Or, translated into simple terms, the Blair Witch fulfills the concept of the Monstrous-Feminine, a theory conjured up by Barbara Creed. On one hand it suggests women are either portrayed as the victim within horror films, and on the other it suggests that when the woman becomes monstrous, she takes on extreme attributes regarding the female reproductive body.

Guess which one the Blair Witch is. 

But this theory didn’t start with Babs sitting in a room and getting her feminist on - Creed deconstructs notions that can be traced back to the era of the Salem witch trials. Each and every urban legend starts here, when it was #on-trend to burn your local witch. 

The Blair Witch is the puppet master in these films.

And she is not the only one that is pulling the strings.

The Real Urban Legends About Witches That You Need To Know About 

“So, the Blair Witch is some chick who hasn’t shaved in 3 months and has a metaphorical vagina?”

Ok, fair enough. 

The Blair Witch isn’t directly based on a specific urban legend, so yes, delete the sage from your Amazon basket and buy those limited edition poptarts, instead.

…

Oh, you thought this post was over?

My little ghoul - this is The Paranormal Periodical. You didn’t think I’d let you leave without informing you of that witch roaming around your local area, would you?

‘Course not. Here are the 13 real urban legends of witches that’ll scare the shizz outta you. 

#1 - Naale Baa

We trade in deep woodland in Maryland for Karntaka, India for this local legend. And within minutes of arriving, you’ll spot the word ‘naale baa’ on the walls - a decoration not dissimilar to that seen in Rustin Parr’s crib.

It is claimed that by writing these words on their walls they can deter the witch that wanders from house to house in search of her husband.

Glammed up in full bridal wear, Nale Ba (as she is also known) supposedly attempts to entice the man of the house, and then curse the family with bad luck.

In the 1990s, this urban legend faced a particular resurgence, and even evolved to claim that she would imitate the voices of victim’s family members to encourage them to open the door. But when the door is opened, you die!

How? No idea.

Am I still scared? Hell yeah.

But I’m not the only one concerned about this witch - claims that multiple men in Thailand just disappeared from their beds in the middle of the night were pinned onto this urban legend.

#2 - The Bell Witch

This is probably the most famous legend regarding a witch puppeteering an innocent family’s life.

The story starts in 1817. A family begin to witness signs of paranormal activity on their farm that targets the man of the house and his daughter, Betsy. A variety of large animals are seen across their farm and follow the family and their slaves. Strange noises then begin to fill the house, like invisible chains being dragged on the floor, or dogs fighting. Betsy repeatedly claims that she can see a little girl playing on the swings.

But this friendly ghost then begins to attack the child, slapping her and scarring her with pins.

The man of the house then begins to demand answers about these spooky shenanigans, and straight up asks the spirit what the shit is going on.

The spirit gives ‘em a lowdown of her backstory - a bit like those clips from the X Factor where they use Katy Perry’s Firework over the top of this 16 year old girl’s turmoil regarding GCSE maths - and claims that she is "Old Kate Batts' witch". 

‘Couple of convos later and they deduce that the farm rests on a Native American burial ground, and the spirit has been disturbed. 

Yet despite the specificity of this legend, the haunting sticks to familial lines we see with Naale Baa and the Blair Witch:

The witch claims she will leave - but she will return in 7 years. She kept her promise, and haunted Betsy when she achieved her womanly purpose of shitting out a baby and having a family of her own.

#3 - The Perron Family Farmhouse

This case was the inspiration behind the original Conjuring movie, founding one of the most iconic horror film series to date - and it’s clear to see why.

I’ve already done a fully-fledged post on this classic tale, but here’s a tl;dr for people hoping not to delve too deep into the haunting…

The Perron family made the mistake of moving onto the land once owned and now haunted by Bathsheba Sherman, a witch from the 19th century.

With increasingly violent activity beginning to haunt the family - which culminated in the possession of the mother of the house - this has earned its place as one of the scariest tales of terror to feature on this blog.

#4 - Mary Evelyn Ford

She was burned at the stake for her witchcraft. 

She was buried in a steel lined grave, and her casket was covered with concrete to keep her trapped in. 

Oh, and she was 5 years old. 

It is claimed that Mary will wander ‘round the cemetery or stand trapped within the protective fencing around her graveside, making faces at mourners and enticing them towards her final resting place. From there she will suck you into the depths where her body now lies, and use your vitality for strength!

#5 - The Three Legged Lady of Mississippi

The American road trip. 

A classic coming-of-adventure filled with freedom, spotify playlists you accidentally stream via your data, and running over people that are already dead.

No? Just me?

The story goes that there’s one road in Mississippi which is haunted by The Three Legged Lady. If you honk your horn three times, she will knock on the roof of the car, and race your car to the end of the road, hitting it with her body throughout the short journey.

Why?

Her origins, like most urban legends, have been subject to a lot of dispute, but there are 2 claims which follow this tale:

One side to the story claims she was the innocent victim of a sacrifice by a satanic cult, whilst the other side claims she doesn’t actually have three legs. 

She’s holding her daughter’s leg, which was severed off when she was run over by a car. It is said that she is still looking for the rest of her daughter.

#6 - The Skinwalkers of Arizona

Our road trip doesn’t stop there, however - this time we are heading for the Navajo region of Arizona. 

Supposedly, when you’re sailing down the highway, something will tap on your window, and you’ll catch a glance of a skinwalker. These humanoid, mutated beings were shapeshifters that were the witch doctors representing the evil within Navajo society.

This urban legend even featured in a court case when a woman was found brutally murdered!

Heck, there is actually a specific region of Arizona - Skinwalker Ranch - from which you are sure to these mystical beings.

#7 - Goody Cole, The Witch of Hampton

This urban legend sticks to the minimalist aesthetic, but nevertheless has earned its reputation in Hampton.

The story goes that a woman accused of being a witch was found dead in her house, and thus, to ensure this bitch stays dead, they bury her with a stake and horseshoe. She says six feet under, but her powers prevail; she curses those that happen to go past her grave.

Her curses stick to those sailing on the river by her burial site, including that one time she reportedly brewed a storm for an innocent girl enjoying a summer’s day on a sailboat who just so happened to be mocking her past.

Not a good day for yachting with father, then?

#8 - The Curse of Jonathon Buck’s Tomb

Okay, this one’s fucking creepy. 

And I love it.

Jonathon Buck was one of the main lads in charge of the Salem witch trials, and condemned many a woman to death by burning. Unfortunately, his attempts to rid one woman of her alleged powers failed, and she scarred his tombstone with a burn mark in the shape of a leg.

No, seriously. 

Whenever the tomb is moved, the mark reappears. 

#9 - Mary Nohl’s Witch House

This origins of this tale can be traced to much more recent events, but carries the essence of an urban legend that rumoured witches cannot escape from. 

Mary Nohl was a sculptor famed for her wacky art and weird displays that decorated her house and gardens. The local residents petitioned for it to be demolished, but it was placed on the National Register, instead.

It is here that the rumours began to swell:

The legend claims that her husband and son drowned in a nearby lake, so, she created these sculptures to watch out for them and await their return to their home. But it was discovered that she never had any children, voiding the rumours conjured up by teenagers after late night visits to this spectacular house.

#10 - The Pendle Witches

I’ve already covered this gaggle of witches and the legends they’ve left on Pendle Hill, but here’s a quick recap for those that haven’t already checked out that post:

The Pendle witches were a group of peasants who practiced dark and mysterious magic. From neighbours getting ill, to strange effigies being found containing hair and teeth, there was more than enough evidence to send them to trial.

It was on this hill that they were sentenced to death, and it was on this hill that they were hung for their crimes. But their witchy behaviour didn’t stop with their deaths.

Peculiar happenings still haunt Pendle hill…

#11 - The Surrey Witch

Our next urban legend is also resident to the UK, and even takes its form in the same era. 

In the 17th century, a white witch lived in a cave in Surrey, and was known for lending things to her neighbours. All you had to do was stand on the boulder outside her cave and ask!

But one day, some bloke tried his luck, and asked for her cauldron. She was chill with it, but said he must return it by a deadline. He missed the due date, and lost 5% off his final mark he fled to escape her potential wrath. 

He fled to Frensham church, from which the cauldron has been utilised for centuries. I wonder if the witch is still out there looking for it?

#12 - Tituba, The Voodoo Queen

Okay, so this witch might not have an urban legend tied to her memory, but her past mirrors the Blair Witch’s own story so it’s freakalicious, regardless...

Tituba was actually the first woman accused of practicing witchcraft in 1692. She even confessed to her crimes, and threw two other witches under the bus!

(So much for solidarity, guys.)

But her story follows a unique twist, as she was believed to have come to the colony she later resided in to encourage local children to take up Voodoo. Her focus on children and thus her maternal portrayal is a simplified reflection of the Blair Witches own metaphorical genitalia. 

#13 - The Witch House, aka The Jonathon Corwin House

Our final urban legend belongs to one of the most historical buildings in Salem:

No, really, it’s the only structure in Salem still standing that had a hand in the witch trials. Not only has it witnessed dark and twisted histories of innocent people, it’s still home to some of them.

Jonathon Corwin - the former owner of the house - was a judge in the trials, and thus carried the memories of the trials with him back to his home, but with reports of torture in the basement and even his own burial down there after his murder, I think we can safely that many myths and legends will circle this house.

Add in a visit from the Ghost Adventures crew, and we can stamp on the Zak Bagan’s seal of approval.

No wonder it’s considered the most haunted house in Salem!

Now It’s Time To Hear What You Think:

Which urban legend is the winner of tonight’s fuck-off-i-cant-handle-the-spooks-man award?

And will you ever watch The Blair Witch Project again?

😍Up for more spooky stuff? Follow this blog and hear a new real ghost story everyday!😍

(Also this is me now.)

[neoneko1985]

Lost wood trap remix / Saria's song

#trapmusic #zelda #saria #lostwoods

[avengerscompound]

The Future Mrs. Stark

The Future Mrs. Stark:  A Iron Man Fanfic

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count: 4693

Pairing:  Tony Stark x F!Reader, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts

Warnings:  Angst, Smut (vaginal sex, talk of oral sex)

Synopsis:  You and Tony find yourself in a place where time doesn’t work properly with no hope of escape.

A/N:  @iron-man-bingo fill - Remix of a fave fic  This is a remix of a fic I wrote (I don’t feel comfortable doing remixes of other people’s writing) called The Future Mrs. Barnes.  So if you have read that one, you will know the twist in this.  However, it’s different in the fact that where Bucky was quite happy to be trapped in a place alone with someone he likes, Tony has a life he wants to return to.

I feel I need to warn people that this is a Tony x Reader fic.  Not a Tony x Pepper fic.  However, he never cheats on her and he is definitely in love with her.  If people want more (like they did with Mrs. Barnes), I am willing to write it, but there is the risk that cheating may be involved and someone and/or everyone could get very badly hurt, especially the reader.

The Future Mrs. Stark

You stood blinking at Tony Stark as the nanites from his Iron Suit seemed to just die at once and poured off his body in a pile of what looked like dust around his feet, leaving him in just the tracksuit he wore under it.  The housing he had built in his chest flickered for a moment and then gave out.  It was such a shock that it took a moment to realize that you were just moments ago fighting a battle in a warehouse and now you were in an open wooded area.   You looked around you confused.

“What the hell just happened?”  Stark said, vocalizing the only thought that was going through your head right now.

“I don’t - we must have been teleported right?”  It then occurred to you how bad it was that his arc had just stopped working.  You rushed over to him.  “Mr. Stark, the arc?  What should I do?”

“Fuck! No, don’t step in… the nanites…”  Stark cursed dropping to his knees and trying to scoop them up in his hands.

“But… doesn’t that keep you alive?”  You asked pointing at his chest, nanite dust now coating your shoes.

Stark shook his head and looked up at you, a slightly helpless look on his face as he held his hands cupped and full of the microscopic robots.  “No.  It’s just a housing and power source for these.  Where the fuck are we?”

You shook your head and pulled out a notepad and pen from your utility belt.  “I don’t know.  It looks wrong.  Maybe …”

Stark furrowed his brow.  “I remember we were fighting that Haberdash guy.  Wanda did her thing.  Then… there was a flash.  Then here.  Maybe he had some kind of teleportation powers we didn’t know about.  Maybe it had an electromagnetic pulse.”  He looked around.  “Hey, newbie.  There’s a shed over there, can you go see if there is anything I can use to try and salvage as many of these as I can.  If it was just a pulse they may not all be fried and I might be able to fix them.”

You turned and saw the shed, sure that it hadn’t been there a moment ago.  The concern of that thought was less than the relief you felt that you didn’t need to reveal your powers to him yet though and you tucked the paper and pen back away and dashed into the shed.

You almost stumbled back in shock when you looked inside.  This was not an old abandoned and unused shed.  This was clean and organized.  It had both steel and wood bench tops.  The equipment in here all looked taken care of or new.  It was strange though because while it looked like you could even do some fine electronics work in here, everything mechanical was of the old motor driven kind, rather than circuit boards.

You grabbed a large plastic tub and a dustpan and broom and carried it out to Stark.  

“Someone lives here, Mr. Stark.”  You said, as you kneeled down and started to help him gather up as many of the nanites as possible.

“You can call me Tony, you know?”  He said as he craned his neck, trying to see through the trees.  “We should take a look around then.  I think I can see a place through there.  Maybe they’ll have a phone or a computer.”

The two of you hid the tub in the shed for safekeeping and then went looking around.  There was indeed a house in the woods.  It was in a bigger clearing with a river running along the front of it.  The inside had a less used feel.  Everything seemed to be a little, packed up for the summer.  Thought the pantry was stocked and there was a huge pile of firewood out the front.  There were no electronics in the building at all.  In fact, there didn’t even seem to be electricity.  Nor was there a road or driveway in that someone could have used to bring the food in.  Though what was there included eggs and bread that still seemed fresh.

You both explored the woods until the light rather dramatically just went out and regrouped in the home.  While you stared out the window, Stark went around lighting candles in the living room.  There was no light outside at all.  It was spooky.  Normally there was something.  Even when you were somewhere remote there was the moon, the stars, the ambient glow of a nearby town.  Here there was nothing.  It was just pitch black.

“I was thinking I might take off my clothes and use the heat from the candles to keep warm.  If I lit them all at once that would work, right?”   Stark said.

“Yeah, sure.”  You agreed, not even listening to him.

He started to laugh and you turned around.  “Oh, now she listens.”

“Are we sure we are actually somewhere, Mr. Stark?”

“Tony,”  He corrected coming up behind you and looking out the window.  “I’m not sure of anything except that Pepper will be freaking out.  I can’t fucking believe I’m doing this to her again.”

“Where are the stars?”  You asked.

“I don’t know.  But we have to be somewhere.”  He put his hand on your shoulder.  “It’s too dark to do anything now.  Let’s eat.  Get some sleep.  Tomorrow I’ll try and rig something up.  Make a beacon or get this working again.”  He tapped his chest.  “We’re not going to freak out until we absolutely have to okay?”

You turned to look at him.  “How are you keeping it together?”

He shrugged.  “I’m not.  I just,”  He tapped his chest.  “They’ll look for us.  I know they will.”  You nodded your head and he gave you a pat on the shoulder.  “Start a fire, I’ll get something to eat.”

The fire was roaring when Stark came back out.  He had a couple of pots in his hands balanced precariously on plates.  You removed one and he gestured to the fire.  You put the pot onto the coals and he did the same with the other one and disappeared into the kitchen again.  When he returned it was carrying a dusty wine bottle and two glasses.  “Look what I found.”

You shook your head.  “I think we should stay alert, sir.”

He shrugged and opened the bottle.  “Suit yourself.”  He said taking a swig directly from the bottle.  “And it’s Tony.”

You both sat up for a little while, him trying to engage you and get you to relax.  You resisting.  You must have fallen asleep.  You felt like you did, but you couldn’t remember it happening.  You were just talking and then suddenly the sun was up.  

The two of you explored around outside.  You wouldn’t relax despite how hard Stark tried to get you to.  Nothing about this felt right.  There was no sound outside.  No birds, no animals, no cars off in the distance.  You couldn’t see the sun either.  It was light, and the sky was blue and free from clouds, but there was no sun.  It made you uneasy.  You felt like you must be being watched.

When you gave up trying to find someone, Stark went into the shed and tired to work on the nanites and his chest piece.  Only returning to the house when the light just dropped out again.  He cooked again and brought out wine again.   You refused again.

“How come you never socialize with the rest of us?  You’ve been on the team a little while now.”  Stark asked.

You shrugged.  “This is my job.”

“Work colleagues can’t be friends too?”  He asked.

“If you work at Target, sure.  Not when you risk your life the way we do.”

“Oh,”  He said with a nod.  “You lost someone.  Who was it?”

“Just a friend.  I don’t really want to talk about it, sir.”

“It’s Tony,”  He said.  “You shouldn’t just shut yourself off like that.  I did it once.  Thought I was dying.  Pushed everyone away.  It’s not sustainable though.  Even when you do get hurt.”

“I’m sure your wife is thinking the same thing right now, sir.”   You snapped.  You knew it was a low blow but you had your walls up for a reason.  You weren’t planning on letting someone in just because you were trapped in an episode of the twilight zone.

“Wow, really?  Ouch.”  Tony said putting his hands up.  “Look, whatever you’ve got going on that that was about, is all yours.  But we’re stuck together.  We need to try and get along.”

“Sorry.  Yeah.  Just… I’ll follow your orders.”  You said.

“I don’t want that either.  Just…”  He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.  “Let’s change the subject.”

You started talking about lighter things and you must have fallen asleep because the next thing you’re aware of is waking up pressed against Stark’s chest.

“Morning, sleepy head.”  He teased.  “I’m married you know?”

You wiped your mouth and blinked around you.  “Do you remember falling asleep?”

He furrowed his brow.  “Yes.”  He paused.  “Uh, no.  Maybe.  Shit.  That’s weird.”

The two of you decided to go walk for as long as you could while still allowing for time to get back before the lights switched off.  By midday, you saw a house in the distance.  You decided to head to that instead of back.  The light was fading by the time you reached it.

It was your house.  The one you left this morning.

“We must have got turned around,”  Stark said, looking around him.

“You know we didn’t.”  You muttered.  

“We must have.  We’ll try again.  I’ll make a compass or something.”

That night you joined him drinking.  The level of fear you feel was too much to deal with.  You got very drunk and the sudden wake up happened a lot sooner than on previous nights.  However, you woke with no hangover.  Just suddenly you were aware of the light.

Days passed.  Weeks even.  Your fear ramped up and then dialed back.  No one had attacked you.  You must have been forced into some weird other plane of existence.  It was unlikely you would be found, but at least you were safe.  The food appeared to be limitless.  You would just have to get used to it being you and Stark.

He seemed to be having more trouble with that than you.  While you had no one in the real world, he had been married.  Trying for a kid even.  He spent days in the shed trying to get the nanites to work again and building other things he thought he could use to get out.  The last time you had gone out there the starts of a new iron suit seemed to be in the works.  You wondered if he really thought he could fly out of here or not.

“Do you think they’ve had a funeral for us, sir?”

It had been another day of Tony building and you trying to find a way out.  Any hope you had of getting out was long gone.  Even if you used your powers, you didn’t think there was anything you could do to get out of whatever pocket universe you were trapped in.

Stark’s face fell.  “I don’t know.  Not yet.  I know Rhodey and Pepper.  Unless they find a body they won’t give up hope.”

“I wonder if anyone would come to mine if they did.”  You mused.

“I would have,”  Stark said.

You laughed and took a drink.  “That’s comforting.”

Tony leaned back on the couch looking at the ceiling.  “Maybe we should try and make this place homier.  I’m trying to get us out of here, but it’s been months and it’s like we’re just camping here.”

You nodded.  “I think that might be a good idea.”

“I’m gonna get us out of here.”  He said firmly.

You nodded again.  “I know.”  Though you didn’t believe him.

You woke again, pressed against Stark’s chest.  This time he had his arms wrapped around you. You both pulled away suddenly.  You embarrassed by the over-familiarity of the touch, while he seemed ashamed of it.  Guilty about being so intimate with someone other than his wife.

“Why do we never sleep in a bed?”  You asked.  

“I don’t know.  It’s like we just both pass out every night.”

You chewed your bottom lip and got up, not so sure he is right but unable to come up with a better explanation.  “Yeah, maybe that’s what happens.”

You both spend the day cleaning the cabin.  Making everything clean and tidy and more comfortable.  After cleaning the bathroom you headed to the master bedroom, thinking maybe tonight you could try and sleep in an actual bed.  You opened the door and you were greeted by what might be the most terrifying thing that has happened so far.

The bedroom was spotless.  Not only was it spotless the bed itself looked like it had just been made up with new sheets and comforters.  The absolute worst bit is there were candles lit and rose petals scattered over the floor and bed.

“Mister Stark.”  You called, your voice cracked and shaking.

He appeared at the other end of the hall wearing large rubber gloves and an apron.  “Can you please call me Tony?”

You shook your head and pointed to the bedroom.  He walked up behind you and looked in the room.  His brows knitted together and his head snapped toward you.  “What part of I’m married and I love my wife don’t you understand?”  He yelled.

“I didn’t do this.  I thought you did this!”  You yelped, shoving him.

“Why would I do this?  I am not a cheater!  I’m not just going to fuck some random agent because I got stuck on a mission with her!”

“Oh, so I’m just some random agent now!”

“You won’t even call me by my first name!”  He yelled.

You backed away from him.  Afraid that you might actually slap him.  His stance changed, his shoulders sagging.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have… This place is fucking with my head.”

“We have got to get out of here.”  You whispered.  

Time passed in a way where you know you experienced it, but then you weren’t sure either.  You have memories of things that happened but not the memory of the small connector things that make someone’s life real.  You and Stark become more comfortable with each other.  You began to share more about yourselves.  Your childhood and the things that led you each to be the way you were.  You finally told him about your friend dying and how you blamed yourself.  About how badly it made you need to keep your distance.  He told you about the time in the cave and how he thought that he was just destined to lose everyone either because he drives them away or because they would be killed. That being trapped here seemed to be proof of that being true.

“I have a question that’s been bothering me,”  Stark said one night.  You think you must have been here for around six months now, but it was hard to tell.  The fragmented nature of time made it hard to keep track.

“Best just say it, sir.”

“Why were you on our team?”

You raised an eyebrow at him.  “You don’t think I belonged?”  

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It’s just everyone on the team.  We, well…”

“What about Agent Barton?”  You said, knowing exactly how that sentence ends.  He raised his eyebrow at you.    “I’m enhanced.  But I don’t like showing people.  Captain Rogers knows what I can do.”  You said. “When I do it, it makes people question reality.  Then they get scared.”

Stark laughed.  It sounded hollow.  “I’m already questioning reality, dear.  Why not show me?”

You sighed and went to find your things.  You had a notepad and pen in your utility belt.  Those were important for your powers to work.  You sat down next to him.  “Let’s say I gave you a gift right now.  It was wrapped and in a box.  What would you like to be in that box?”

“Scotch.  A Macallan.  Damn, I could kill for a nice single malt right now.”  He answered quickly.

You nodded grim faced and started drawing a box.  It was simple but you drew a bow on it.  You pinched the paper and pulled.  The box emerged from the paper.  It was lopsided and exactly like it looked when it was just a drawing.  Lined paper and everything.  Only now it’s three dimensional and large enough to hold a bottle of Scotch.

“Here you go,”  You said handing it to him.  He looked at you his eyes wide.  You knew there was nothing you could do to prepare him for what just happened.  “Tony.  It’s fine.”

“You called me, Tony.”  He said.  

“Mm-hmm.”  You hummed, pushing the box into his hands.  He unwrapped it and pulled the bottle of 69-year-aged McKellen.

He looked from the bottle to you to the bottle again completely dumbstruck.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I need to draw a box.  Like I just made that out of nothing.  Why can’t I just go ‘Scotch please’ and there be Scotch?  If I draw the Scotch it works, but it’s off.  Because it’s a drawing of Scotch.  But if draw a box just about anything can be in it.”  You explained.

“Anything can be in the box?”  He asked, but there was something to his voice.  Something other than the shock and disbelief and fear you normally hear when you do that trick.  There’s anger there too.

“Yeah.  I mean.  I can’t draw your childhood dog and that be in there.  But a dog could be in there.”  You replied.  “Please don’t look at me like that.  I told you I hate showing people.”  

“You mean to tell me, for the past six months we’ve been trapped here you could have summoned the things I need to get us the fuck out of here?”  He asked pulling away from you and standing up.  “What the fuck kind of game do you think you’re playing?  Was that you that set up the bedroom like that?  Is this some kind of game to wear me down so you can seduce me?”

You shook your head and for the first time since you saw Callie die, you felt like you were going to cry.  “No.  I swear.  I have no idea how that happened.  I would have told you about my powers if I thought they would help.  I don’t know how they could possibly help.   Nothing works here like it should.  Time doesn’t even work here properly?  Have you even noticed that?”

Tony shook his head.  “I remember things.”

“I don’t like this place, Tony,”  You said, pleading with him to understand.  “I feel like people are messing with us.  Do you think HYDRA put us here to see what we did?”

“My tech out does anything HYDRA has.  Not even I have this kind of technology.”   He said.  “I don’t even think Wakanda has this kind of tech.”

You woke again resting against Tony’s chest.  This time he didn’t have his shirt on.  He leaned down and kissed you and for a second you forgot that you’d been doing that for weeks now.  Then you remember how after you started calling him Tony, you started to not see him as your superior officer anymore.  When that had happened you had softened the way you interacted with him, which made him become more comfortable around you.  How you’d been working together, summoning the things he wanted until your fingers were calloused from drawing and nothing was working.  How he had broken down and cried and cried about losing Pepper.  How you’d held him and listened to the hopes he had that she had moved on. That he didn’t want to hurt her anymore and that if she could just move on she could have the life he had wanted to share with her.  You remembered how when he had cried himself out he hand leaned in and kissed you.

It had taken a while to get from that guilt ridden kiss that came out of despair to here now, comfortable in bed together, but you were taking it slow.  There had been no sex yet.  He wasn’t ready and if Tony Stark of all people wasn’t ready to have sex, you needed to keep the brakes on.  He needed time to grieve the wife he had lost. The best friend.  The family he had built and the one he was getting ready to start.  You had all the time in the world.

“Morning, honey.”  He said.

“Morning, babe.”  You replied smiling lazily.

He rolled over so he was pressed down on you, looking into your eyes.  His thumb ran over your lip and he pushed it just into your mouth.  You sucked on it for a moment and when he took it away you let out a sigh.

“What are you doing, Tony?”

He brought his lips to yours, licking along to top of your mouth.  You hummed and sucked his bottom lip as you pulled away from him.  “I love you, Tony.  But I cannot start the day with another cold shower.”

Wait, when did you start saying the L word?  You shook your head and the memory of you telling him you loved him two months ago filled your head.  Then of how he returned it a month later, hesitant and slightly confused about his feelings.

“What’s wrong?”  He asked, stroking his hand along your jaw.

“That time thing again.”  You said with a shake of your head.  “It feels like things didn’t happen until I focused on them.”

“What did you forget?”  He asked, pulling back and looking down at you with concern.

“I felt like I forgot everything then. That we were way back at the start when I’d just started using your name.”  Your voice shook a little as you spoke.  You hated this and the fact Tony didn't seem to notice as much as you made you wonder if it was just you.

“You forgot that I was in love with you?”  He asked.

You nodded.  “God, Tony. That was scary.   I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

His lips brushed over yours.  “I’m right here.  You’re safe.”

You leaned your head against his cheek and he ran his fingers through your hair.  “Honey?”  

“Mm?”

“I’m ready.”  He said.  

The bedroom was decorated again.  The candles and the rose petals returning like they appeared out of nowhere.  For a second you forgot how they got there, then you didn't even care because Tony was kissing a trail down your naked body.  His tongue went between your folds and you moaned.  Every touch he made sent jolts through you.  It was like he couldn't do anything wrong.  He pushed three of his fingers into your cunt and your vaguely aware that is too many, it should hurt going from nothing to that so quickly but instead, it’s nothing but good.  

You came apart under his touches, and when your orgasm hit, your you chanted his name. He crawled back up your body and while you kissed he entered you.  You groaned loudly.  For a second you tried to think about a time that sex had ever felt this good.  Had there ever been an encounter where your partner could do no wrong?   You clung to him as he kissed you, thrusting harder and harder into you.  You came again and again until finally he spilled into you too and you both collapsed on the bed side by side, panting.  

“That felt like how people pretend sex is.”  You panted.

“It was pretty amazing.  Where did you learn to do that thing with your tongue?  I've had a lot of sex and no one has ever done that before.”  He asked.

“What?”  You asked not sure what thing he was referring to.

“When you were …”  He gestured to his crotch.  “You know? Sucking my dick and you curled your tongue and…You know?”

You were confused for a second and then remembered how you had sucked his cock too.  How did you forget that?

You got up and ran to the bathroom, throwing up into the toilet.

Tony appeared behind you.  He was dressed again.  How did he dress so fast?  “I’m telling you.  It’s morning sickness.”

You looked up at him in a mixture of nausea and confusion.  “What?”

“It’s been going on for weeks now.  We haven’t been careful enough.  How am I gonna deliver a baby on my own?”  

“Right.  For weeks.”  You said. “I forgot.”

He helped you to your feet.   You were dressed too.  These blackouts were just becoming annoying now.  “At least you asked me to marry you before this happened.”

Tony frowned.  “I hate that we can’t do all of this properly.  Have out life with other people.  But then… I guess we wouldn't have either way.  I had Pepper.”

You could see the guilt in his eyes.  The part of him that felt bad that he had fallen in love again.  The part that wanted what he had but wanted this too and wasn't sure how to process it.

“It's okay to miss her.”  You assured him.

You were lying on the couch with Tony and he was running his hand over your baby bump before you have time to wonder what happened during this blackout you were pushing, and there was so much pain and you could hear Tony soothing you and telling you, you’re doing a great job.  Then you were outside under the non-existent sun and your son and daughter were playing together.

You looked at Tony and he seemed so happy and all you were is confused.  “Tony?”

“What’s wrong, honey?”  He asked, turning from the kids and looking at you, a broad grin on his face.

“I love you.”  You said not wanting to bother him and instead attempted to fill in the holes yourself.  

“You blacked out again, didn’t you?  How much time?”  He asked.

“We were having sex for the first time.”  You said.  

“Honey.  Are you okay?  That was 12 years ago.”  He said.  He cupped your face in his hands and looked into your eyes.  It's strange because he didn’t look any older.  “What are our kids' names?”

“James and Virginia.”  You answered.  

He smiled and kissed you softly.  “That’s right.  God, you worried me.”  

The sun went out and Tony gripped your shoulder.  “Do you smell that?”  He asked.

“Smell what?”  You asked.

“It’s like ammonia.”

“I don’t smell anything.”  You said.  The world did seem to be going fuzzy though.  

Tony opened his eyes and blinked up at the faces hovering over him.  “Platypus?”

“Hey Tones, you alright?  You’ve been out for about an hour.”   Rhodey said.  

Tony sat up and his head spun.  He looked around for you and called out your name.  “What?  But I was gone?  Where is she?”  

“Who?”  Steve asked.  “Maybe you should lie down, Tony.”

“We were gone. Where is she?  She’s an agent but new.”  Tony said trying to get to his feet.  Frantic to find the woman he loved and the children he had with her.

Rhodey put a hand on his shoulder.  “There’s no one by that name, Tones.  I think you’ve been dreaming.”

Tony clutched at his chest.  “We were gonna get married.  I had kids, Rhodey.”  

Rhodey ran his fingers through Tony’s hair.  “Lie down.  You’re safe.  It was just a dream.  We’ll get you home to Pepper and you can sleep it off, or whatever it is the two of you do.

Pepper!  He'd lived a life.  One without her.  He has fallen in love and had kids and she was still here.  How could he live with himself?  He stumbled backward and Rhodey caught him.  “Hey, Tony.  Calm down.  Sit. You’re gonna be alright.  You just need to clear your head.”

[barid-bel-medar]

Let’s Chat AUs and Possible AUs

Ongoing

Crimson and Emerald

Let’s be real, you all know what this is

Legacies and Curses

Fun fact Hinata started as an almost character for ‘Favored by Fire’

Hero Shigaraki, bonus Todochild, and all the possible havoc you could think of happening with those two as Izuku’s older siblings.

Witch of the Woods

Fantasy AU

Inko’s Era

Izuku’s Ear

Haven’t I Seen You Before?

In which everyone, hero and villain, noticed Izuku before UA

Disappeared

Oh where or where did All For One go? Apparently to get married and raise a family. And accidentally succeed in breaking hero society without even trying.

Reset the Clock

Team Seven and Sai are sent back in time, deaged back to being little kids. As a result of Hashirama discovering random lost children, including a mini Uzumaki with cuddling a kitsume, a pink haired girl with Mokuton, and what seem to be two tiny Uchiha, said children are all adopted into the Senju main family (aka Hashirama and Mito adopt Sakura and Naruto, and Sasuke and Sai latch onto a very confused Tobirama)

Madara may or may not survive seething hatred from toddlers

Izuna may be constantly blamed for Sasuke’s existence.  

Future/Possible

This Time We’re Ready

Inko goes back in time to just a few hours before All For One (her husband Hisashi) ‘finds’ Tenko Shimura and turns him into Shigaraki Tomura. Instead, she finds and rescues him, and then goes on the run with him, eight months pregnant with Izuku

Along the way she fixes things, including making Enji get his head out of his ass, scaring the shit out of Gran Torino by mistake, confusing All Might and terrifying her husband (who has no clue who ‘kidnapped’ his civilian wife)

Oh, and rescues a few other children along the way, including the still alive older sister of Tenko’s

Copy Cat

Remix of CWEL

Aoi returns to Japan while Neito is only six, and rekindles at least her friendship with Inko 

Unintended rivalry sparks between Neito and Katsuki for Izuku’s attention (even if Katsuki will never admit it)

Aoi unintentionally breaks a part of the government and then gets stuck being in charge of fixing it

Kiyome and Hawks get back to their family much faster

Inko is much less willing to put up with her husband’s secrets.

Meet Sooner than Later

Where at age eight Neito meets a Quirkless Izuku, and at age ten they meet Hitoshi and Mei. They proceed to prove they are a terrible foursome for anyone’s sanity, no one should trust their survival instinct, and their parents have a geniune concern that once they reach UA they may break the school

This is a valid concern

The early meeting and absorption of one Todoroki Shouto into the gravity of one Midoriya Izuku

Some Say in Ice

A universe in which Rei refuses to let Enji break their children (or her). She succeeds in making people know what Enji was doing to her, shakes the bedrock of hero society, and finds a way so there’s never a Dabi, only a Yuki Touya

Everything she does though starts to draw attention from what aren’t necessarily the sorts of people she wants it from.

On the Prowl

Aaron Davis is supposed to die from a bullet to the back after refusing to kill his nephew Miles. Instead he survives, having put on the ‘heavy duty’ version of his costume, the one intended for dealing with heroes like Punisher who actually use guns. As a result he lives, and Miles has a former villain-uncle to mentor and back him up. 

Jefferson would on the other hand like to know when his family’s life became a comic book.

A Sea as Red as Sunset

Shanks is the younger brother of Kushina, and ended up in West Blue by chance after Uzushio’s fall. After meeting Luffy the Red Haired Pirates end up trapped in a storm that guides them Uzushio’s ruins. Where Shanks manages to accidentally trigger a ward letting all the other Uzumaki and related Uzushio citizens know ‘come back home we’ve got safety again’. Shanks ends up an Emperor and Kage, in charge of more things than he’d like, and steals all the Uchiha, the remnants of the Senju, and Naruto. Oh, and eventually Kakashi and Tenzo

Rather obviously, this changes a lot of things, including a very unexpected alliance between villages, Orochimaru’s plans getting fucked over six different ways, and Zetsu wanting to throttle a lot of people

Mihawk unintentionally saves the Seven Swordsmen via wanting to fight good swordsmen

Several Outrigger stories

Uchiha Izumi and Uchiha Ayame traveling the seas, trying to figure out what is going on, including the mystery of a woman called Viper

During the fall of Uzushio, some Uzumaki didn’t end up dying or getting scatter through out the shinobi continent. Some (and by some I mean one) ended up in Tortall during Thom and Alanna’s era

Foxes, Hawks and Ravens

The first ripple is Berelaine deciding to try for Mat, and Mat finding he’s more than willing to go along with her. A few answers are different from the Finn, and they’re going to have a very interesting time of things. 

Oh, and Asmodean doesn’t die because I fucking refuse

Replace and Take

Yeah, we’re going to leave this as All For One is a massive and creepy bastard, Inko does not have a good time of things, and it’s going to be the Halloween fic for a reason, since horror is the right time of year for this.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 20 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: MILESTONEEEEE I’ve made it to Part 20! Loved writing Kenzie finally dreaming about the interrogation between Michael and Mallory at Outpost 3 (imo the best AHS scene of all time--I studied it carefully to write that part and WHEW do I love that scene, the birth of Millory!!!). I mentioned this in an ask recently, but I see Duncan as the Michael who chose the path of light, and Michael as the Duncan that chose darkness--I believe the duality of human nature is all about autonomous choice, and thus the Outpost Michael Kenzie sees has lost his nature of goodness, therefore has lost his “Duncanness” to her. She forgets that he called her “Mallory” upon waking, but she’ll hear the name again and be puzzled by it. The way Duncan helps Kenzie breathe is the real breathing technique to help comedown from hyperventilation--breathe in slowly through your nose, count to three, breathe out from pursed lips, repeat. The pomegranate smoothie is something like this recipe. Y’all know I had to reference this at some point. Lindy and Gabby are the ones who started DUCKENZIEFANS.com--they’re both high schoolers (they’re 16), and they--and their fan club/website--will show up again. I based Kenzie’s cool demeanor with them on the many videos people have taken of Keanu Reeves being lovely and polite to fans (I’m a huge Keanu fan)--the paps are going to start to notice how lovely Kenzie is to people, start picking up on her aura, so to speak, and it will have an effect on how they behave around her. Ben is my Billy Porter/Behold AU, as I’ve mentioned, and irl he is a married gay man and an outspoken advocate for LGBTQ+ rights--he’s done a lot of work with GLAAD, so it seemed fitting to make that his charity of choice. A reminder that the black tulle geometric lingerie looks like this. Ben’s glasses. His wine-colored blazer. His rose pin. Kenzie’s blouse. Kenzie’s skirt. Kenzie’s shoes. Duncan’s shirt. I listened to this remix of Lana del Rey’s BLUE JEANS a lot while I edited this part, it has a Duckenzie cosmic vibe. @neonlacrima made the most beautiful aesthetic moodboard for my fic and posted it today, please go give her love for it, I’m DYING over it. @deanfinite made one too, here, that I’ve been losing my mind over for days. The Duckenzie love is real, y’all, and I FUCKING FEEL IT.

Kenzie was dreaming again.

Duncan was kneeling before her. Duncan, but...not Duncan. The man kneeling in front of her had Duncan’s face--his blue eyes, though these were strangely dark and she could not see his soul behind them--his beautiful mouth and straight nose and chiseled jaw, but he had long, flowing golden hair--Duncan’s hair is coppery brown, like autumn leaves, waving down around his ears, falling back from his face, Kenzie thought in the dream--not knowing she was dreaming, but knowing that it was him, and also not him. And this man, who was Duncan, her beloved, and also not her Duncan, not her beloved: darkness coiled around him, thick like smoke--redness hovered around his eyes and he was dressed all in black, and this other Duncan, this dark Duncan, frightened her to the pit of her being. She smelled burnt ash and sharp, sickly sweetness, like the center of an overripe fruit. He smelled like destruction to her--like the end of something, like the end of everything. My Duncan doesn’t smell like that, she thought, a terrible chill in her mind. He smells like the woods in the rain and the sweetness of jasmine and summer grasses coming down as the light fades. You are not my Duncan. You are a shade of him, another side of him, one that does not exist in this world, and she still did not know she was dreaming, but she did know that, knew it, and knew she was inside the self that sat in front of his man, but was also outside of that self, as if she were looking over her own shoulder. The man was reaching out for her face, his other hand hovering on her knee, and the pressure of his hands filled her with sickly fear--you aren’t my Duncan, you really aren’t my Duncan, because his touch is healing to me, in his touch I can feel the fibers of his soul and it’s like sweet kisses on my skin, kisses full of tenderness, full of his love for me and your touch is not his, your touch is like death, your touch chills my soul to the core.

“You’re afraid,” this other Duncan was saying, “aren’t you? Of accepting who you are.”

“I don’t know who I am,” she heard herself say.

“What do you mean?” She felt caught in his gaze; as cold as ice, as harsh as a terrible blaze, a gaze that she could see none of her Duncan’s love inside--a gaze that wanted to consume only, devour only, rend, ravage. She heard herself speak again--as if she was only able to listen to herself--as if this other Kenzie was from the past, or the future, or some other Kenzie altogether, her doppleganger with a different mind entirely. “Sometimes, I feel like there’s someone buried inside me, trying to claw their way out.”

“Who?” The man’s hand was hovering at her chin now--not my Duncan, no, not him, this man is dark, he is Darkness Itself, he is the Beast, and she heard her other self say “I don’t know, I just wanna go--” and felt herself--her other self--stand and try to run away from the man--the man came after her and Kenzie’s heart went into her throat (no not him not him YOU ARE NOT HIM) and that other man with Duncan’s face grasped her arm and she heard herself say let me go and he said “Don’t be afraid, Mallory, I’m offering you a chance to live--”

And then she felt hot fire, heat so bright and so golden and so vast like the entirety of the sun and she thought YOU ARE NOT HIM DON’T TOUCH ME TAKE HIS FACE OFF IT’S NOT YOURS YOU TOOK HIM WHERE IS HE WHERE DID YOU TAKE HIM and Kenzie heard her other self scream this time, scream “I SAID LET ME GO--” and the fire, the sun of the feeling surged out of her, like the way she pushed her love and her feelings and thoughts into Duncan but this time it was charged, a thousand times stronger, a feeling so vast it felt as though it would rend her mind in two and something exploded, a fire burning behind them burst and extended and licked around the man and he staggered back from her, his face a mask of utter shock.

The room went dark, the fire snuffed--then the man with Duncan’s face rose from where he’d been knocked back, his golden hair tossed around his face, his expression full of wondrous awe, anger, and incredulence, his eyes inside hers. He advanced on her; his face became a terrible white mask, monstrous, distorted--and Kenzie felt herself, that other self that was her and not her, pull the golden sunlight, the energy made of wild, powerful brilliance, out towards him again, her fear floating away from her for a moment that felt like an eternity, and the fire flared up and was rekindled, swelling around him, forcing him to retreat once more, and Kenzie knew she was doing it, that it was her power that forced him back.

He lifted his face to her again, the veneration in it even more pronounced, the white monstrous pallor having disappeared from it, and Kenzie thought she saw a flash of Duncan finally in his eyes--a flicker of light, a spasm of his loveliness, his love, then it was gone. “Who are you?” His voice had lowered from its haughty cruelty, and was now tinged with astonishment. More like Duncan’s voice.

“I don’t know. Who are you?” Kenzie looked into the other Duncan’s eyes--I saw you for a moment there, my love, I saw you trapped inside him as though buried beneath the terrible weight of the crushing earth. Then the cold hand of fear gripped her heart again, and Kenzie felt herself, that other self, run from him as though there were ravenous wolves on her heels--

-------

She was coming back, resurfacing from a pool of dark water, and felt someone shaking her, shaking her arms and touching her face with a sweet, warm hand, a hand that she knew was Duncan’s before she even opened her eyes because she could feel the calm and the relief and the love in it, flowing into her, even while she was still drifting up from that dream, from the dark pool, from the other self she had been inside--and then her eyes snapped open and she was staring into his face, worry-creased, his blue eyes so earnest, Duncan was saying something but she couldn’t hear him at first then her hearing came back in a rush and she watched his lips (my Duncan, his eyes, his mouth, his warm and soothing hands, oh god, he took you away from me, he had destroyed you, my beloved, he had taken you away from me) and he said again “Kenzie, baby, Kenzie, wake up, you’re dreaming, you’re dreaming, it’s not real--”

Then she was jerking up and her breath shuddered out, and she gasped, harshly, and she felt the hot tears on her face, and Duncan’s hands were on her cheek and at her waist and the fear in his eyes shook her, shook her into intense relief, so intense she thought she might faint with it--”Oh god, baby, he didn’t take you, he didn’t take you away from me--you’re here, you’re okay, you’re here--your eyes, your soul--” and she burst into a sob that made her shoulders wrack forward into him and Duncan’s hands were in her hair as she cried, her face pressed into that space under his arm, her space, where she fit, where she’d been cut away from him, long ago at the beginning.

“Kenzie, Kenzie, baby love, everything’s okay, everything’s alright, you’re at home in our bed and I’m here, whatever was in your dream--it was just a dream baby, it’s not real--I love you, it’s okay, you’re okay--” she closed her eyes against him, hot tears coursing down her cheeks, lost in the soft whisper of his mouth at her ear, the feeling of his hands in her hair, his large body cradling her into his lap, and she breathed in--not the ash and rotten fruit of her dream, oh thank you, gods, Fates, thank you, he smelled like sandalwood and his jasmine soap and the musky earth-smell of him and Kenzie sobbed again, lost in his consolation, lost in the reality of him, the dream fading, that man made of Darkness Itself fading from her mind, bleeding out into the edges of her consciousness, mercifully. After awhile, she quieted, breathing him into her, breathing in the love she could feel coming off him in waves into her, and her heartbeat slowed, and Duncan was shushing into her hair, and saying “baby, it’s okay, baby, you’re okay, angel, Kenzie, shhhh, it’s okay,” and his hand was brushing the tears from her cheeks, the warmth of it, the shape of it soothing the harshness, the redness, the salty sting.

“Dunny--that dream--you were someone else, you were--a man with your face--”

“It wasn’t me, Kenzie, it wasn’t me. I’m here. It was a dream. I’m here. Your Duncan. I’m right here. I love you. I love you and you’re safe, you’re at home, you’re with me.”

“That man, he was so dark--he was evil--he was like a black hole in the void that sucked everything into it and howled in the face of the deep, serpent, the destroyer--” for a moment, it was as if someone else was speaking through Kenzie’s voice and she lost herself in the flow of her fearful words, then crashed back into herself, still babbling--”he scared me so much, it was like he had eaten you and was wearing your face, like you were screaming inside him--fuck, Duncan, oh fuck--he grabbed me and his hands were like a burning brand and I made the fire explode, I was so afraid and angry and confused--I don’t--” her breathing had risen back to a frenzied panting, and Kenzie gasped, hyperventilating, darkness at the edges of her vision.

“Shhhh, baby, shhhh, breathe, okay? Breathe slow, just breathe, in and out, watch me.” Duncan closed his mouth and breathed in through only his nose--he nodded at her slowly, holding onto her waist carefully and very tenderly, and Kenzie closed her mouth, watching him, mimicking the rise of his body, breathing in--she held her breath as he did, and he nodded to her again, holding up a finger--then one more--and a third, then they breathed out at the same time, Kenzie mimicking the way he pursed his lips as they did, and his hands rubbed gently at her waist, against her little pink satin pyjamas, the ones he got for me, soothing. “Good, baby, that was perfect, one more time--” and Kenzie and Duncan both breathed in carefully once more, and Kenzie felt the low, drifting calm of her mind float down against him, pushing the fear and the anxiety away--she could feel the golden bursts of his love flowing over her, waves of his affection in the sunlight over the bed, feel the warm convergence of his thoughts, tinged with fear for her, swirling around the corners of her mind. Kenzie, I love you. Kenzie, I’m here, no one will take me away from you, I won’t let anyone take me away from you. Feel me and look into my eyes. I’m here.

“Mom taught me to breathe like that, a long time ago,” Duncan’s voice was very quiet, soothing into her ear, his hands trailing up and down her body, around her arms and back and forth, feeling at the rise and fall of her, his head dipped down against her, the smell of him almost medicinal to her now--soothingly shielding her from the dream, pulling her away from it, and Kenzie was happy to leave it, happy to let it slip away, anxious to forget it. “I used to have panic attacks when I was little, over the paps following us around and taking pictures of me, I used to burst into tears and scream at them, and she taught me to breathe carefully like that--taught me to come down from my anger and just breathe.”

“Momby always told me to breathe, too…” Kenzie’s voice was a tiny whisper now, and she felt another wave of golden love fall over her like rain from Duncan’s tall, large body holding her against him, enveloping her, holding her at the side of the big dark-sheeted bed. My beloved, my One, my Duncan, oh god, I thought you were gone. “I can’t--that dream, baby--that nightmare--”

“It wasn’t real, Kenz. It wasn’t. Nobody will take me away from you. I won’t let them.”

Kenzie couldn’t keep a little whimpering sigh from escaping her lips--she let her eyes fall up the sunbeam that fell over the bed--daylight, not firelight, no fire--and lifted out of his arms now. He was gazing down at her, that terrible tenderness in his eyes, my Duncan, here he is, right here, right here with me, and he’s gonna go to work with me today, Ben’s gonna interview him, and more relief washed over her and she sniffed hard, willing her hidden tears back. The memory of last night was coming back to her now, too--making dinner together, strapping her body with nervous, shaking fingers into the tulle lingerie, his passionate kisses all over her body, buckling the choker around her neck and twisting her wrists into the velvet trappings, fucking her so achingly hard, their passion so needy, staring into each other with soul-shattering lust in their beautiful mirror--and the way he’d brought her a little bowl of green tea ice cream after because she’d asked for it, and they’d spooned it into each other’s mouths, kissing each other slowly and carefully between, their lust hazy and low by then, and she’d savored the way he’d looked at her as she licked the silver spoon in his hand, and they’d laid here in bed for a little while after, just holding each other quietly, until she’d begun to drift off into sleep--and Duncan had woken her softly to lead her to the bathroom where she washed her face and brushed her teeth and hair and soothed a damp wipe between her legs from a drawer under the long, spotless counter of the sink--she’d watched him do the same around his cock, wiping the residue of their combined rapture away, and had shivered, hands reaching out to him, and he’d pressed his lips against her forehead.

Kenzie could feel the soreness in her body now that she was coming back from the nightmare, coming back from the dulling of her senses inside that other place; her ass ached where he’d penetrated her and come deep inside her, and ached where he’d left redness smattered across her buttocks, and she could feel the raw wetness inside her cunt where the memory of his needy cock still lingered, the ache at her clit from his fingers and the egg and the incessant pressing there. But she didn’t mind--the soreness reminded her she was back here, in reality, in his arms, reminded her of the ardor between them last night and her ecstasy inside it, and that the dream hadn’t been real after all; that her fear inside it was unfounded.

“Do you want some water, baby?” Duncan spoke down into her softly, again, as she drifted in his arms, lost in her thoughts.

“Uh huh, please, baby. Can I have a coffee too, please? I’m okay now. I promise, I’m okay.”

Duncan stared at her for a little longer, as if to be sure, and then nodded at her. “I’ll be right back, okay? Just breathe like I told you if you feel upset again.” He kissed her, hand in her hair, then eased out of her arms--he was in just his briefs, the way he seemed most comfortable in sleep, and Kenzie couldn’t help but stare at his back as he walked away--the fall of his wavy hair on the back of his neck, the outline of his shoulder blades, the ripple of muscle in his arms, and the rise of his ass under the briefs, the thickness of his thighs, the fine hair on his legs. He is so beautiful. He really is. He’s like a statue come to life--almost too beautiful to be real, but he is. Kenzie sat there on the bed, feeling dazed, the dream still drifting at the edges of her psyche--but the sick, icy-hot feeling the man had given her, the fierce burning of the fire she’d kindled in her mind, and the panic at not being able to find Duncan--not being able to see him in the man with his face--were melting away. But these fucking dreams, Kenzie thought, troubled, remembering the ones she’d had over the past few days--Claire choking, the one where she was in the bathtub, the one where she brought a dead deer back to life--and Duncan’s dreams too, the one where she was dying, or the one where he was dying as she hovered over him (your hair was dark, you called me Michael, he’d said, she’d looked different--the way the dark man had had his face), or seeing her as an angel, with actual wings, comforting him--I was dark, he had said, your touch was healing.

We started having them after we met each other. Maybe we’re just really stressed by everything and our nerves are heightened lately...or...maybe it’s something else…

Kenzie got up from the bed, her tiredness eking away with the details of the dream--I don’t know who I am, she remembered herself (or that other self who was her but not her) saying, and then she thought of the way she and Duncan could hear each other’s thoughts sometimes--she stared at herself in the long mirror and was struck again with the feeling that it had always belonged to her, and she thought of Duncan dreaming that she was an angel. Maybe all of it does mean something. If the universe can help me find my Soulmate--and I’m really starting to believe it did--maybe it’s trying to tell us something else. Or show us something. Or...something. Maybe I don’t know who I am. Maybe there’s a whole other part of me I don’t know about.

Kenzie went to the closet--the silky black kimono Duncan had gotten her with the other things from Agent Provocateur was hanging near the front of her side. She’d put it there yesterday when she’d had the penthouse to herself--and had carefully hung the black lingerie beside it, to wear at a later date. Her tulle white lingerie from last night was on hangers lined up in the laundry room off the side of the living room, and she’d left a note on them for the housekeepers--I’ll wash these by hand myself, thank you. Kenzie was trying to get used to the idea of other people cleaning her living space for her, but there were some things she simply wouldn’t allow. Someone else washing my sex-stained lingerie by hand is one of them. Kenzie pulled the kimono down, sliding it over her shoulders and wrapping it around her waist; the lace fell beautifully around her thighs, and Kenzie looked down at herself with delight, pushing her hair behind her ears from where it had fallen into her eyes. My baby got this for me, and it’s so beautiful. I’ve always wanted something like this. Kenzie moved out of the closet and into the living room, where her eyes immediately fell on the coffee table with her roses and peonies--the roses were drooping quite noticeably now beside the other fresh flowers, and Kenzie lifted the Waterford vase up to bring it into the kitchen. Duncan was standing by his Keurig, waiting for a second cup of coffee to filter into it as he threw fruit into his Vitamix--hers was on the obsidian island, a tall glass of filtered water beside it.

“I was making you a smoothie,” he said as she came up behind him, and he turned to her, smiling. “Anything in particular you want in it?”

“I trust you, baby.”

Kenzie went up on her tip-toes and kissed him (he tastes like berries, she thought, noticing the open carton of blackberries on the counter beside him), admiring the way his hair fell down over his forehead as he leaned down to her; admiring his wide bare shoulders, the stubble ever-present on his chiseled jaw. “You’re wearing it,” he said, his smile widening, eyes flashing over her (burst of blue sky). “God, you look beautiful. I have to get you more pieces from them. One for every day at least. Do you feel any better, baby?” His hand came down the silkiness at her arm; trailed to her hand and grasped it, bringing her palm up to his mouth and kissing it, slowly, his eyes still in hers, sending a shiver down Kenzie’s spine. Last night was like a dream, but it was real, wasn’t it, baby, he thought into her, the wave strong as they touched. I worshiped you with abandon, your sweetness folding into me, your body trembling under my touch, the way you told me what to do to you, that choker around your neck, how hard I fucked you. Angel. Baby.

“Mhmm,” Kenzie breathed, bringing the hand he held up against his cheek, her thumb trailing over his lip. Duncan kissed her fingers--turned his head, closing his eyes. No, he thought into her, I’ll never get tired of kissing you, and she pushed it back towards him, I’ll never be tired of your kisses. “I feel okay now. Thanks for breathing with me, baby. That helped a lot. It was just...the way I felt in the dream, you know? Like you’d disappeared and someone else had taken over your body and that person was evil. And I was full of fear--there was another version of me there too, almost, one that didn’t know you--but I was there too, and I was full of despair.” She felt the tears in her eyes at that--wiped her cheek with a hasty hand. Duncan pulled her closer--she gripped onto his ass, only the smooth fabric of his briefs covering his sex between them--then tickled her hands up his torso and he barked with laughter, and the fear eked out of her again. How can I be sad with this beautiful boy here with me, kissing his devotions into my skin, smelling of the wild wood and the sweetness of berries.

“You better stop fucking tickling me or I’m gonna tie you up again,” he laughed down to her mouth. “I’m gonna spank you again, Princess.”

“Nuh uh, it’s my turn to spank you.” And Kenzie brought her little hand down and smacked Duncan’s ass as hard as she could, laughing and flinching away as he tried to grab her wrist. He was about to come after her around the island when his phone, sitting on the table, chimed out a text message. Kenzie ran to where her coffee sat, gripping the handle of the mug and bringing it up to her lips, sipping carefully as he picked the smooth iPhone up, grinning at him as he glared facetiously at her. “Gonna get you back for that later, baby. I’m gonna throw you over my knee for that.”

“Big talk, Mr. Shepherd,” she stuck her tongue out at him and wiggled her hips.

“Wait till later, Princess Kenzie. Still need to see you in that black set I got for you.”

He looked down at the text, then frowned. Kenzie had a good idea who it was from without needing to see it--Annette. Duncan put his phone down and turned it over.

“Your mom?”

He nodded, turning away from her back to the Vitamix, his good mood seeming to dissolve. He went to the fridge and pulled out a jug of pomegranate juice, pouring it carefully into the blender, snapping the lid and pressing the highest setting--a few seconds later the ingredients were blended perfectly, and he poured the rich magenta contents of the Vitamix into a tall tumbler, bringing it over to her, his eyes clouded.

“Is everything okay?” She leaned up to kiss him and he put the smoothie down, his hands suddenly coming up to her cheeks and pulling her into him, needy. Kenzie pressed her fingers through his, loving the richness of his smell as his tongue came against hers--she could feel a strange sadness from him now, and longed to brush it away.

“She’s angry about you moving in here, of fucking course--” he scoffed a little, then his face went soft again, soft to look at her, wistful and anxious--”I just wish she could see how extraordinary you are,” he whispered into her. “It’s so obvious. I don’t know how she can be so blindly stubborn. It hurts me to see her treat you unkindly. I hate it. I really fucking hate it.”

“Baby, it’s okay. I love you. You love me. That’s what matters.”

“Kenzie. I think you’re my Soulmate. I think you really, truly are. I think we were written in the stars. I think you’re the only person I was ever meant to be with. I do, baby. I really do. I have to tell you that,” and he looked into her eyes and Kenzie’s heart was full of him, full of the depth of everything he said, she could feel him there, pressing the invisible mouth of his soul, his blue fire, onto the invisible mouth of hers, made of golden moonshine, “It’s eating away at my heart and I have to say it. Doubtless you’ve heard me think it--and we can fucking hear each other’s thoughts, Kenz. That defies all description. That’s impossible, and yet we can. I don’t want anyone else to know about that, I want that to be our secret always--like, that’s too fucking intimate for other people, they won’t believe us and I don’t want them to ever know, I want that to be ours because I am yours entirely, Kenzie, my thoughts belong to you and so do I and nobody else can come close to you, for me, there’s only you now--and this sounds crazy to a part of me, to the Duncan I was last month--but I think we should go see a psychic, or a medium, or something like that, because I don’t understand what’s going on, but you and me and these dreams we’re having, and hearing each other’s thoughts, the Mirror, fucking everything--”

“Dunny. I can feel that you’re my Soulmate, too. I feel that too. I know that too. And when I see your thoughts I can see you beautiful soul, like the sound of rain falling at night, like sweet fire that warms me in the center of my heart and I’ll never tell anyone else about that, baby, it will always be only for me and you. I promise, baby, Duncan, I love you so--” Kenzie was speaking breathlessly into him, quietly leaning into his mouth and then he was kissing her achingly, their thoughts crashing together, strong and sweet. I love you, I love you, I love only you.

“You taste like blackberries,” she whispered, and pressed her tongue against his again, and Duncan’s hands came into her hair and buried themselves there, tangling into it deeper, pulling her head back so her chin rose and he could taste her better, could press her body into him, and Kenzie’s nerves were all on fire, the adrenaline from her dream surging back into the embrace of her lover, his grip both intensely possessive and wildly soft, my Prince who is the most beautiful of all Princes, the most divine of all the Gods, the most beloved of all Angels, Chosen and mine, mine alone.

---------

Duncan was still in the closet getting dressed as Kenzie retrieved the roses from the counter where she’d left them, lifting them out of the vase which she placed in the sink and drying the ends with a paper towel--she’d gotten a length of string from her sewing kit, now to be stowed in a cupboard towards her end of the walk-in closet, which she tied tightly around the bottom of the roses’ stems. She brought them back into the bedroom, past where she could see Duncan finishing the buttons on a textured black cotton shirt, and sliding his arms into a black blazer that was tailored almost alarmingly well--she marveled at his beauty, because it was impossible not to, no matter how often she gazed on him, feeling lost inside it, then turning away, shaking her head, dizzy with him. Kenzie had retrieved several aluminum thumbtacks from one of her various boxes of trinkets--Momby called them doodad boxes--and pressed them into the wall over the bed, wrapping the other end of the string she’s tied the roses together with around the tacks, so they hung with the petals facing earthwards, the better to dry. There. Now I won’t have to throw away any of the flowers Duncan gets for me. And our bedroom will always smell beautiful. And I’ll have my little garden, even if it’s a dead one.

Today she wore a sleeveless blouse in the palest shade of pink, with a peter pan collar and a thin black tying bow at the bosom, and a woven rust-brown skirt that fell just past her knees, which she had hitched up as she jumped on the bed, the better to reach the wall behind it. She’d put on the twisting gold bracelet she’d worn that night she and Duncan met on the balcony, fondly--but no other jewelry today. Kenzie felt nervous at the prospect of Ben interviewing Duncan--wondered if he’d be reasonable with Duncan’s request to postpone publishing it until he was officially in charge of the majority share for Shepherd Unlimited. I don’t know if I’d call Ben a reasonable person persay, she worried. He can be ruthless when he wants something, a great quality in a journalist, a not-so-great quality in someone who could potentially derail our hopes for the future. Duncan came out of the closet, adjusting his black Movado watch as he did, pushing a hand up through his wavy hair as his eyes fell on the roses, now drying upside-down.

“Now our bedroom will always smell like flowers, baby,” Kenzie murmured to him over her shoulder, her bare feet pressing into the bed, still mussed from their sleep. “I can’t bear to throw them away. They are the first flowers you ever got for me--well, besides the ones in the bathtub--and I will always love them.”

Duncan came up behind her, arms snaking around her waist, his face pressing into the side of her stomach as her arm came down around him, falling through his hair, smiling down at him from where she stood on their bed. She could see the happiness shining out of his blue (ocean on a clouded day) eyes as he turned his gaze between the hanging roses and her face--I mean it baby, she thought to him, I’ll love them forever. I’ll love you forever.

“I’ll buy you so many we’ll fill the entire wall. It’ll smell like a flower shop in here.”

“A wall of your love for me to look at every day. That sounds like heaven, baby.”

“You’re fucking heaven.” He pulled her down to him; Kenzie looked up into his face now, that glorious face (someone should paint him, the artists of the ages would claw each other in the face to paint his), then over his shoulder to the mirror that stretched and showed them in the morning light--Kenzie’s tawny hair falling down her back, Duncan’s fingers twisted in it, his face turned down to her in adoration as she looked at their reflection. For a moment, Kenzie allowed herself to imagine them as the royalty Pilar had likened them to--Hades and Persephone, Kenzie thought--a crown made of delicate gold leaves and moonstones on her head, one made of the bones of birds and dark obsidian stones around his, her blouse and skirt turning to a gown of spidery golden gossamer around her body, his dark shirt and blazer becoming a flowing cloak made of dark velvet around his shoulders. King and Queen of the Underworld, he judges the dead, I bring the breath of life. I hang the dry flowers of the land above in our bedroom, for nothing will grow in the Underworld--and though he can never be part of the common world, I can bring it to him, I can breathe life into his lungs, breathe flowers back around his heart. And so I have.

So you have, my love. She heard his thought and turned her face to him--he nodded, his eyes shining down at her, his tall frame towering over her. I heard everything. That was beautiful. My sweet Persephone, I love you more than every blossom of the spring, every growing thing that drops its heady perfume on a summer evening, more than the breath of my own body. Kiss me.

And so she did--as you have given me flowers, my love, so I will give them to you--all the flowers of my body and my soul.

------

Kenzie was delighted to see Harris again--he had rung Duncan’s bell a moment before, and as Duncan opened the long black penthouse door to receive him, Kenzie rushed up and threw her arms around the big man’s broad shoulders, dangling off him in the air suddenly like a kite flying in a gust of wind. Harris let out a little laugh, and Kenzie marveled at the way he held her up like she weighed no more than doll. He set her gently back to the earth, and Kenzie could feel Duncan’s smile on them, feel the blue flames of his mind lick against hers, his warm affection.

“I missed you,” she said up to her bodyguard, and Harris’ sepia-colored eyes were full of emotion.

“Miss Stone, I’ve agonized over what happened on Friday. In this line of work, we know things can sometimes go terribly wrong in a moment despite the most careful planning, but those scenarios are an escort’s worst nightmare. I have to apologize to you again--”

“No, Harris, you really don’t. You’re the reason I’m okay. You very well may have saved my life. I can’t thank you enough.” Kenzie grasped Harris’ huge hand, looking up into his face, her tone serious, affection and gratitude surging through her. “It’s my privilege to have you protecting me.”

“Harris, you did exactly what we hired you to do,” Duncan added. “You put your life in front of hers. You’re priceless to us and I meant what I said before, I intend to triple your salary. I can’t thank you enough.”

Harris was silent; Kenzie could see the overcome expression in his eyes--the burning tremor inside the friendliness. He only nodded a little, mouth closed, looking away from them,--Kenzie’s heart clenched, somehow knowing how close the big man with the wonderfully friendly smile was to tears, and she clutched his hand still, her fingers absolutely tiny, like a child’s, inside his--Harris’ hand was shivering in her grasp--then he said, very gently: “Miss Mackenzie, Mr. Shepherd. I’ll be waiting for you in the foyer,” and Kenzie let go of him, smiling up to him and nodding. “We’ll be there in just a minute, Harris.” She beckoned to him with her hands--Harris leaned down to her, as if she were about to whisper a secret into his ear--he had to bend quite far--and she pressed her lips to his cheek, and Kenzie thought--Harris, thank you, you are as noble as a knight protecting his queen to me, and I cherish you--and she pushed the thought into him, carefully, wondering if she could do it to anyone else, wondering if anyone else could feel something she wanted to give them the way Duncan could feel those things from her, and Kenzie watched Harris visibly shiver, his head still dipped down to her, then he straightened and his eyes were cloudy, confused, but full of warmth to her. He smiled, then--handsome, long, and then he left, and Kenzie could see that he was still shaking: this hugely tall, strong man, shaking because of her, and she knew it.

Duncan came up behind her, his arms coming around her with soft, wonderful warmth. “Baby, what did you do? What did you do to Harris? His face--he was shocked. Did you...did you think something into him?” Duncan’s mouth was at her ear, kissing with aching sensitivity, his breath sweet and the edges of his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. Kenzie sighed and leaned into him--”I tried--” he bit down on her skin, needily, his hands dipping around her breasts, and she moaned a little, arching up into the feeling of his mouth--”oh, baby, don’t leave marks on my neck--” “Too late for that, baby, you already have some from last night--some from me, some from your little rose choker, my little rose--” Duncan whispered into her, biting again, sucking--then Kenzie said “I tried--uhh, Duncan--I tried to tell him how much I cherish him, how he’s like a knight--p-protecting me, and I think he heard me, baby, I think he could hear me at least a little, I think I can push things into people--good things, lovely things, kindness, thanks, my...uhhh, baby--” and Duncan was turning her into his mouth, tasting her deeply, lifting her up into him, and Kenzie thought oh fuck work, fuck the world, I wanna just dissolve back into bed with you, fuck--and she heard him whisper back into her mind me too, Kenzie, me too, I wanna worship my goddess all day, I want to lay down my soul for you, make myself an offering to you as I worship your mouth and your body and the space between your thighs and she pushed down and away from him, their breathing heavy and harsh and drifting between them, and she laughed, “You have to stop, Dunny, we have to go to your interview now, baby, Samuel and Harris are waiting for us--” and Duncan’s hands clutched for her again, and she couldn’t bring herself to push him away again, such was the sweetness of his touch, the rightness of his hands on her body, drifting down to her thighs and the top of her ass, couldn’t deny him the golden melding of their minds as he gazed down at her, his eyes penetrating the center of her soul with their divine esteem for her.

“Fucking goddess,” he breathed. “My Persephone. My moon princess.”

“Baby, fuck--stop saying those beautiful things, we have to go--”

“I won’t, I won’t stop, I want to say every beautiful thing ever said or thought into your ears and into your mind and into the secret spaces of your soul, baby, my angel--” His mouth was dipping down the incline of Kenzie’s chin, to the soft, sensitive, delicate incline of her neck, into the dip of her collarbone (Kenzie’s breath sucked into her lungs, and she felt her heart racing terribly), down to the fabric that covered the space between her breasts, lifting her up into him effortlessly. “Baby,” she said, “god, that feels so good--I think I can make people feel happy if I try to, I can--uhh, baby--I can heal them, inside, I can give them a little part of me, a tiny bit of gold, a sliver of sunlight, and warm them, not their body, but give them peace in their--Dunny, fuck--in their--”

“You can heal people’s hearts,” he whispered, his mouth coming back up into hers, nibbling at her bottom lip, and Kenzie thought oh my fucking god, fuck me, my sweet Prince, turning me into dripping honey in your hands--”you can reach into them and heal the part of their soul that is hurting, my darling, my beloved. It’s extraordinary. You’ve healed me, and you can heal others, and I’m in awe of you.”

“I still don’t know how to do it, though--not really--how to control it--”

“You just did it, baby. You did it for Harris. If you intend to heal, if you’re trying to, I think you can do it better, stronger, but I think you can already do it without trying, without even needing to think about it,” he said, hands in her hair, and Kenzie knew he was right. I’ve healed you without thinking about it. “Dunny--I think you’ve done that for me too, though--I think you’ve healed me just by touching me, just by being near me, over and over--”

“I think I can do it too--not as well as you can, but a little, I can do it if I really try, if I really love the person--as I love you. But I think I’ve never known about it until now--I never knew, because it was hidden inside me before.” His mouth was kissing along her jaw now, his words between, his hands falling through her tawny hair over and over, sending bursts of warmth through her skin. “But I think you brought it out of me, like you opened a secret box inside me, one that was locked with a hundred impossible locks,” Duncan kissed her nose, the delicate space under her eyes, one, then the other, and the radiant happiness on his face made Kenzie want to cry, “and when you first touched me, Kenz--when you did, all of the locks immediately unwound, and my soul, my real soul--the sun that was hiding--it broke out, and you’ve brought me to life for real, Kenzie. You’ve kindled my spirit.”

“And we’ll do wonders, won’t we, Duncan. Now we will. Together, we’ll do wonders, my love.” She could feel her gold dust and his blue fire twisting around each other, could almost see them touching, the essences of both of them, imperceptible to her eyes but visible to her mind, in the early morning light, in the bright kitchen, sunlight falling across her succulents that lined the window, sunlight kissing their skin as they touched and felt each other, their bodies, their souls--

“Yes, baby. Yes, we fucking will.”

-------

Sweet, wonderful you, you make me happy with the things you do, oh, can it be so, this feeling follows me wherever I go...

Fleetwood Mac was on the BMW’s stereo again as Samuel pulled away from the curb; the back of the car was deeply cool despite the crushing heat outside today and he and Harris were chatting quietly in the front seat as the partition floated up. Kenzie was gazing at Duncan (he was wearing his Givenchy sunglasses today, the perfect wave of his hair mesmerizing her), his hand on her thigh, his gaze angled down at his phone (Instagram, and Kenzie smiled, seeing that he had her profile open, admiring the photo she’d taken last night of the dinner they’d made together--typing something, smiling--Kenzie tried to lean over his shoulder to read it, but at that moment she heard her phone trumpet a text from the inside of her Margaux satchel on the seat beside her. She pulled it out, the fingers of her other hand around his where it rested on her over her skirt, warm and sweetly heavy, and stared at the screen--Clairebear.

Clairebear: Kenzie Lou, Morgan is hard at work on your dress, it’ll be finished by Wednesday or Thursday--I’ll send you some photos soon, but make sure Duncan isn’t around when you look at them, we have to keep it a surprise!!! He’s going to lose his MIND. Morgan wanted to know if he’d be open to looking at some sketches she made for a look for him, also, can you ask him? She could work on something quickly if he could come by for measurements today or tomorrow. I think it would be amazing if you could coordinate your looks--America’s new favorite It couple DUCKENZIE have you been reading the stuff people have been posting? Everyone is OBSESSED with you two. It’s insane. Your Instagrams are the top two in trending since you posted those beach pictures over the weekend.

Kenzie saw the text bubbles that indicated Claire was writing again.

Clairebear: Here’s the article that went up this morning on BPF by the way. Then there was a link with a headline: DUNCAN SHEPHERD’S NEW BOO MACKENZIE STONE MOVES INTO HIS PENTHOUSE AFTER ONLY WEEKS OF DATING (yeah, because you found my apartment and swarmed it, Kenzie thought, with a jab of annoyance). The photo in the link was one of Kenzie’s Instagram photos--the one she’d posted of her sun and moon chimes with the long living room picture window in the background. She felt Duncan’s eyes looking at her phone over her shoulder; his large frame pressing against her back, his cheek hovering near her hair.

“Is that Claire,” he said, his lips kissing her temple. “Does she always send you the articles?”

“Not always, I don’t think. But sometimes. I’d rather hear about them from her than someone random person. And it’s not like we didn’t expect this one.”

“Better that everyone knows, they’re less likely to bother you if they know the Shepherd name is protecting you, honestly, baby. I threatened to yank their press credentials from the Gala if they didn’t stop coming around the high-rise, and that seems to have done the trick.” Duncan’s finger trailed down Kenzie’s leg, back and forth.

“Morgan wanted to know if you’d look at some sketches she drew for the Gala for you, by the way,” Kenzie said, looking up at him; he was peering at her over the top of his sunglasses, hair on his forehead, his long elegant hand clutching her leg, his clothing perfectly tailored and dark as evening. So handsome. So fucking handsome. He’s obscenely beautiful and it’s like he’s from another world. Duncan reached for her other hand and Kenzie set her phone in her lap, threading her fingers into his. He’s so warm, so lovely, he smells so good. My beloved.

“Of course I will, Kenz. I’d love for our looks to coordinate, baby. I guess I somehow knew I should put off finding my look until the last minute,” he grinned at her. His teeth are so perfect. His smile is like the clouds breaking on a rosy sunset. Ridiculous, baby. You’re ridiculous. How can anyone be so beautiful? Kenzie could feel the blush on her cheeks--she looked away from him, feeling shy suddenly.

“Stop thinking that stuff about me.” He pulled her into him; his body, so much larger than hers, enveloped her in the cocoon of his affection, and Kenzie felt faint inside it, felt herself go limp with the ardency of his touch. “You’re the one who’s ridiculously beautiful. You’re my moonlight.” Kenzie blushed more deeply into him as he took his sunglasses off, carelessly discarding them on the seat beside them, his hand coming back up to clutch her at the spot under her ear.

“Maybe we could go over there after we’re done with Ben’s interview?”

“Uh huh, Miss Stone. Whatever you want, Miss Stone. May I kiss you, Miss Stone?” His face hovered near her cheek, his breath sweet on her, his smell intoxicating, washing over her in waves, reminding her of his needy sex buried in her, his body pressed against her in the dark as they felt each other a few nights ago, immersed in their other senses, his mouth between her legs, his hands on her neck against the leather choker, all the nights that had passed with them locked in each other’s embrace, and it never felt like enough, it never felt long enough--

“You may.”

Duncan’s lips came against hers with aching velvet-softness; he hovered there for a long moment, his mouth open to her, and Kenzie became acutely aware of the feeling of him, the shivering tenderness of his touch--he lifted his head a little, and the bottom of his lip touched against the upper part of her mouth--he let it hover there for another achingly long moment, and Kenzie felt a deep shudder course through her body, down into her sex. It’s like he’s tasting my heart. She turned her head, lost in the feeling of him--her eyes had fluttered closed, and she felt drunk on him, drunk with his beauty and his attention on her this way; this concentration of his touch, so focused on her, the whisper of his mouth, like the soft flesh of a swollen fruit. The BMW was gliding through traffic with its careful ease, and Kenzie forgot where they were for a moment--she forgot everything except for the way Duncan was hovering against her, teasing her with his mouth. His thumb came up to press against her bottom lip, running along its edge and pressing it down, his lips still hanging on the top of her mouth, clutching her jaw gently but insistently. Duncan moved his mouth down again, his lips closing over just her bottom lip now, just a little, just enough to suck there lightly--Kenzie moaned against him in frustration, and she felt his smile.

“Stop teasing me, baby,” she said.

“Make me.”

Kenzie’s eyes snapped open; he was still nibbling at her bottom lip, his expression both stunningly beautiful and vexing to her, and she grasped his wrists--one at her cheek, the other on her thigh--and pushed his arms back into the BMW’s leather seat, her phone falling off her lap to the car’s floor as she climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Fine, baby, I fucking will. Kenzie knew she wasn’t strong enough to really control him this way--that he was letting her hold his arms down. You want me to do this, she thought, and his eyes opened, wildly bright (the blue of a field of cornflowers blooming in the sun) desirous and hungry. She could hear Stevie’s voice echoing through the stereo, coaxing her on--rock on ancient queen, follow those who pale in your shadow--and Kenzie let go of his wrists and clutched Duncan’s face in her little hands, demandingly, running her nails up his jaw with just enough pressure to force his head up to her, along the stubble there that she loved so, and he moaned against her fingers, and she kissed him, then, roughly, possessively, still clutching his face harshly against her, and Kenzie could feel him leaning into her, greedy and desperate, relieved at her want, starving for it. I want you to tell me what you want, what to do, command me, make me worship you, he was thinking into her, and Kenzie’s nerves were thrilling, singing, her body stoking itself into high flames of powerful desire. You are the light of my life and I long to fulfill your needs, long to fulfill every desire you dream of. I’m your faithful lover, most devoted, most ardent. I’m yours to do with what you will. You are beloved to me--more than anything. Above all things.

Kenzie pulled back and her hand fell down to his throat--she could feel the power of him under her hand, the strength coiled there, strength enough to whip her hand away from him if he desired to--but he leaned into her grasp, eagerly, anticipant. Choke me, baby.

Kenzie squeezed, and she heard Duncan gasp quietly, the air constricted from his lungs. His hands were on the incline between her back and the rise of her ass, clutching her flush against him, grinding his crotch up into the space between her legs. Kenzie lowered her mouth down, near to his, but didn’t let it touch him, not yet--God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby, and I’ll think it as much as I want, she pressed into him, her thought dusted in gold. I could eat you like cake, Dunny. Lemme eat you, baby. You smell like fucking sex. She saw Duncan’s eyes go wide as he heard her thoughts, saw his tongue come out to his top lip, licking along the edge--go ahead and eat me, Princess, I’m yours to devour, Kenzie, baby, please fucking kiss me.

As Kenzie went to kiss him, though, her hand still on his neck, his grip pressing her into him, his eyes falling closed, she saw, with a jolt of painful disappointment, that Samuel was pulling up to One Franklin Square. “Fuuuuck,” she whined, pressing her mouth onto his in frustrated defiance--Duncan’s eyes were closed and he leaned into her with abandon, his tongue twining against hers, not having realized they had arrived yet--”Dunny, baby, ugh, we have to go,” she murmured into him, loosening her grip on his neck. Duncan groaned into her, his eyes opening, disappointment and longing in his (sky, storm, thunder-heavy clouds) eyes. “Ughhh, fuck, baby…”

“Rain check, baby. I promise. You like me choking you, huh?”

“Yes,” he whispered into her, into the space between her breasts, his mouth moving down there, up again, more hasty kisses pressed to her open mouth. “Yes, baby, I love it.”

“I’ll do it to you later, baby. I’ll tie you up later and let you watch me put on that black lingerie, how about that?”

Duncan’s eyes lifted up to hers and then rolled back a little, his mouth opening as she pressed down onto his crotch, still straddling him, gripping his jaw hard once more, quickly--the car was coming to a stop and soon Harris would be pulling the door open--”I’ll tie you up and choke you and suck your big cock later, baby,” Kenzie whispered into his mouth, and Duncan’s lips trembled under her, and she felt coiled gold power pilling in the pit of her stomach, drunk with the sensation of speaking these fantasies into her lover, so wildly beautiful as he was, so much larger than her, so much stronger, and yet so abject in her hands, so prostrate to her touch. So in love with me. So devoted to me. My Prince. My Hades. His power bows to mine.

“Yes, please, Kenzie, baby--” then she was climbing off him, and she could see the flush in his cheeks, the almost painful look in his eyes at the loss of her touch--they hastily pressed together one more time and kissed achingly as Harris opened the front passenger door, and then broke apart just as hastily as he opened Kenzie’s door, his neck turning away from them to peer at the paps who had begun to notice the telltale BMW.

“Baby, you have lipstick on your face,” Kenzie whispered to Duncan, bringing her thumb up to the side of his mouth, where her pink lipstain had smeared on his cheek. “There.” Duncan quickly gripped her hand, his eyes boring into her (I can’t wait to be alone with you at home, our sanctuary, our secret place where no one else can follow us, where we can worship each other with no distractions), then let go of her as she turned to get out of the car, clutching her satchel. He followed her out and Kenzie watched the tide of paps swarm towards them. Her mind was hot and frustrated from the interruption of their passionate moment--oh, fuck this, she thought. 

Then, Kenzie noticed something--two girls who clearly were not paps standing closeby on the sidewalk, excited expressions on their faces. One of them (short and boxy, in tennis shoes and jeans and a lavender-colored t-shirt with a graphic Kenzie couldn’t make out, a sandy-brown bob haircut and glasses, a pink backpack, and a bouquet of a dozen red roses wrapped in white, crinkly plastic clutched in her hand) was pointing at Kenzie and Duncan, the other girl (tall and thin with freckles and curly auburn hair, wearing a similar t-shirt in pink and a short denim skirt and ballet flats) was whispering to her excitedly, a newspaper clutched in her hand carefully--not just any newspaper, Kenzie thought, the Post. They noticed Kenzie looking at them and waved a little. “Mackenzie, we love you!” the curly-haired one shouted out. Oh my god, Kenzie thought. I have fucking fans. Duncan was looking over at the girls with an amused, indulgent expression on his face. Kenzie could see the tide of paps fast approaching--Harris was reaching for her arm, murmuring “Miss Stone, it’s time for us to go,” to her in a clipped voice. But Kenzie glanced back at the girls who waved to her with excited smiles on their faces again--the curly-haired girl bounced on her feet, and the girl with the bob haircut stepped forward a few paces, hesitant but determined.

Fuck you, paps, Kenzie thought suddenly, defiant. I’m gonna be such an angel you’re going to fall over yourselves. Watch this. She immediately stepped towards the girls, reaching out behind her and grabbing Duncan’s hand, pulling him insistently along as she trotted over to them in the black-tie wedge sandals she’d chosen to wear today. The girls gave her wild-eyed stares as she approached, and Kenzie smiled brilliantly at them.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” the shorter girl with the bob breathed--her cheeks were deeply red. “Oh my god, these are for you, Mackenzie--” she held the roses in the plastic sheet out to Kenzie and Kenzie looked in her face, steadily, keeping the smile in her gaze.

“Oh, wow, thank you, they’re so beautiful! Hi, what’s your name?”

Harris was coming up behind Duncan, a dark look of concern in his eyes. “Miss Mackenzie, we really should go inside,” he murmured down to her as the paps swarmed up, a pudgy-faced man in a leather jacket and his cameraman at his shoulder at the forefront--I think Duncan called him Gary, Kenzie thought vaguely, he’s from BPF. Kenzie ignored Harris carefully, still smiling at the girl. She noticed with a shock of surprise that the girls’ shirts were screen-printed with one of the photos of her and Duncan from their night at Le Diplomate--the first photos the paps had gotten of them and put up on the gossip website--the first one she’s seen on her phone after Claire had sent the link to her, where Kenzie was shyly staring up at Duncan and he was glancing across at her, wildly handsome, holding her hand. DUCKENZIEFANS.COM was printed along the bottom of the shirts, in swirling gold script. Oh my god, what.

“Lindy,” the girl said (at least that’s what it sounded like, Kenzie thought), and Kenzie could see that she was on the verge of tears. “Oh my god, hi Duncan, oh my god, wow--” Duncan was smiling at her indulgently over the rim of his sunglasses, and he reached out for the flowers. “Here, I’ll hold them for her, okay?” The girl passed the roses off to Duncan, her blush deepening to a color almost close to purple, and Kenzie could see the way her hands were shaking. Kenzie reached out to her, grasping her hand--”Wow, did you make your shirts yourselves? They’re so lovely!” The girl nodded and Kenzie saw the first tear spill down her cheek. Kenzie leaned over to the girl and gave her a little squeeze--she felt the tension in the girl’s shoulders soothe as she did. “It’s so nice to meet you, Lindy, it’s okay.”

The curly-haired girl was bouncing on her feet behind her friend, making strangled sounds of excitement. “Kenzie, could you please sign your article for me? Ohmygodohmygodohmygod you’re both sooooo beautiful together,” and she held out the copy of the Post and a blue sharpie to Kenzie as the paps began to swarm around them in a thick cloud--Kenzie grinned widely at her, batting her eyelashes showily as the cameras began to click around them in a cacophony, and Duncan’s hand pressed protectively into Kenzie’s lower back--Harris was giving Gary’s cameraman a dark look as he tried to press closer to Kenzie’s face, angling his camera down on her, and the man skittered back, still clicking. “Back up,” Harris said in a low voice, and the paps closest to him moved back, obediently, at least for the moment. “Miss Mackenzie, we need to go.” His tone was dark. “I agree, Kenz, this is too close,” Duncan said into her ear, but Kenzie didn’t let her expression falter--she gripped the sharpie, still smiling warmly between Lindy and her curly-haired friend. “And what’s your name, sweetie? So I can write it out.”

“Gabby, my name’s Gabby, with a y at the end, we have a fan club for you, if you could write that too, it’s DUCKENZIEFANS.com, thank you Kenzie, thank you so much--” Gabby tossed her hair a little, another little squeal coming out of her at the end of her words. “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Mackenzie, we love you so much, we love you both so much, you’re like angels!” Kenzie tried to block out the sound of the cameras with a determined stubbornness--she could hear questions beginning to rise over the crowd of paps (“MACKENZIE DUNCAN ARE YOU LIVING TOGETHER NOW WHO ARE YOU WEARING TO THE GALA THIS WEEKEND OVER HERE MACKENZIE DUNCAN OVER HERE OVER HERE”), and she fought to focus on the two girls, leaning over the square of her editorial on the bottom of the front page, writing out To Gabby and Lindy and everyone at DUCKENZIEFANS.COM you’re the best xoxo Kenzie Stone. “It’s wonderful to meet both of you, too,” she said to them, carefully, still smiling, tucking her hair behind her ear, glancing up into their faces--she heard another cascade of clicks as the cameras caught the moment. Duncan was gripping her arm now, his fingers going tight, and she knew he was worried, glancing up at his face quickly--his lips were pressed in a thin line and he was looking at her over his sunglasses, his eyes stormy with urgency. Baby, we gotta go, this is dangerous. “I’ll be sure to look at the website, I’m sure you’ve worked so hard on it,” she said, and Kenzie felt the tingly burst of warm energy from Duncan course through her arm. Angel. My love. You’re so kind to everyone.

“We have, oh my god, we’ve been working on it every day, thank you Kenzie!” Gabby said with another long squeal, and Kenzie handed her the newspaper and the sharpie--she was surprised at how steady her own hand was, as if it belonged to someone else. Lindy had her phone out--the back had a sticker, another printed photo of Kenzie and Duncan, this one of the shot Kenzie had posted on Instagram of them in the back of the BMW with the neon shadows over their faces. Jesus christ, this is surreal, Kenzie thought.

“Can we take a picture with you really quickly?” Lindy pleaded. Kenzie nodded and pulled Duncan against her (you too baby), beckoning to Gabby. “Real quick, first Gabby then Lindy, okay?” She tucked her arm around Gabby’s curly hair and Lindy held her phone up, hands still shaking--Kenzie smiled widely as the short girl pressed the button on her phone a few times in succession, then Gabby reached out to her and they switched--Gabby mimicked her friend’s actions, still letting out little squeals of wild excitement, then Kenzie let go of the short girl and let Duncan begin to pull her away with an iron grip--Harris moved around her back, his arms extended a little as a perimeter around the paps. Duncan pushed past Gary, who was trying to tuck a microphone under his mouth again. Kenzie waved back at the girls (they waved back, more tears falling down Lindy’s cheek, Gabby still bouncing up and down), then turned her body into Duncan’s as they quickly stepped through the loud crowd of paps, which parted for them reluctantly, following behind them closely.

“Mackenzie, are you living with Duncan now?” someone said. Kenzie glanced up, feeling Duncan’s hand tighten on her--they were still a few yards away from the entrance of One Franklin Square. It had been Gary, who had switched his microphone from Duncan’s cheek to hers--Harris was moving around to where the pudgy man was shuffling beside her, and Gary’s watery eyes were dodging between her and the big man advancing on him.

“I am, yeah. It’s Gary, right?” She gave him a little smile, still letting Duncan drag her along--they’d almost made it to the door now..

Gary looked a little surprised, his eyebrows raising, mouth popping open. “Yep--yeah, uh, Gary Spencer for buzzpopfeed. Uhh, can I say, you look lovely today, Mackenzie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, thank you,” Kenzie smiled again, this time with her teeth. Not really, but yanno. Gotta start somewhere. I’m not going to hide from you guys anymore. If this is my life now, so be it. I can do this. “I’ll make sure you get some good shots of us the Gala this weekend, how’s that sound?”

“That would be great, Miss Stone, that would be stellar, thank you--”

“You can call me Mackenzie, that’s okay, that’s fine, Gary.” She nodded at him a little, eyes skirting over to Duncan--he was coming up to the door, his expression unreadable but his grip on her having lessened a little, as though her words to the pudgy man were soothing him, too. “I have to go to work now, but yes, Duncan and I are living together now, and everything is wonderful. Thanks, Gary.” Gary stared at her, a dumbfounded look in his eyes--the other paps around him were still shouting at her and Duncan, trying to get her attention, but Harris was gently pushing her from behind as Duncan pulled her through the doorway of the building--Duncan still wasn’t speaking or showing any sign of how he was feeling, clutching the roses the girl had given her in his long hand. The paps lingered outside, the wave of them coming to an abrupt halt, aware of the building’s recently heightened security as the door snapped shut, cutting off the sound. Duncan continued to pull Kenzie through the downstairs foyer, towards the elevators--Kenzie saw Erin, the receptionist, glance up at them (she had purple eyeshadow today, her shorn bob perfectly styled) and Kenzie nodded to her, smiling. Erin nodded a little back at her, eyes skirting between Duncan and Harris on either side of her. Kenzie shrugged. My knights in shining armor. Erin gave her a nervous smile.

Once they were in the elevator, Kenzie spoke. “Harris, I’m sorry, I needed to do that. I needed to give them...something. I couldn’t just ignore those girls. Thank you for bearing with me.” Harris nodded at her, clearing his throat a little as his huge form stood beside her, Duncan on her left, taking his sunglasses off, staring down at her--his eyes were bright. He’s amazed at what I just did out there, she knew, suddenly shy of him.

“Miss Stone, that could have gone very badly,” Harris replied. “The danger outweighed the benefits, in my view. Excuse my bluntness, but if we’re going to avoid more situations like the one from last week, we have to be more careful.”

“I understand that. But I needed to do that. I needed to show them. And I needed to be kind to those girls.”

“I see, Miss Stone.” Harris’ body had relaxed slightly; his hands were carefully clasped together over his stomach, and his expression was lowering, back to one of neutral friendliness.

“Kenzie,” Duncan said, and his hand came out of hers, pressing against her shoulder. “That was wonderful. You were perfect. I know exactly what you were doing. You were placing the foundations for a rapport. And the way you were with those girls--that was absolutely adept, baby.”

She grinned at him. Yes, baby, yes. I knew you’d understand. “Did you see their shirts? Did you see the sticker on her phone? Like oh my god. Did you know about the fan club thing?”

“I saw a post online about it--I haven’t looked at the site yet,” Duncan laughed, his hand coming up to his jaw, rubbing along his bottom lip. “You were so good with them, baby. You’re such a doll to everyone.” Despite Harris being there, Duncan pulled her against him anyway, pressing a quick kiss into her mouth, the crinkly paper of the roses in her ears.

“Are you ready for the formidable force of Ben Wilder?” Kenzie grinned into his kiss.

“Probably not?” He laughed again, nervously.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. You’re look so good today, he’s going to be distracted.” Kenzie hooked her fingers around the lapels of his blazer, her mouth pressing down onto his chin.

“Every little bit helps to convince him to hold the article until everything’s finalized,” Duncan replied, eyes falling on the elevator doors as they slid open on the 10th floor. Zadie happened to be walking past, her arms full of copies, wearing a long dark pantsuit and block-heeled black boots today, her extremely long, straight, shiny hair swaying down her back. She glanced up and lifted a hand to Kenzie, smiling, eyes skittering over the two men with her--she waved a little at Harris too. They’d met on Friday, before the incident, and Harris gave her a warm smile and a nod. “Miss Zadie,” he said, his voice pleasant and low.

“Zadie, this is Duncan,” Kenzie stepped out of the elevator. Duncan gave the tall girl a brilliant smile, reaching out his hand. Zadie took it, carefully clutching the copies to her chest. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself on Friday,” Duncan said, still clutching the roses in one hand--Harris inclined a hand to them, and Duncan handed them off to the taller man, nodding at him gratefully. “I was so concerned about Kenzie, it was all such a blur.”

“Oh, it’s fine, geez,” Zadie said in her low voice, letting go of Duncan’s hand and tossing her hair off her shoulder, “we were all worried. I’m so glad she’s okay. I guess they’re keeping the guy for a mental health evaluation and a combined trespassing and assault charge. Speaking of which--Kenz, I think there’s a court order on your desk. They probably want you to testify.”

“Oh, great,” Kenzie said, biting into her lip. “Can’t wait.”

Zadie winced at her. “Sorry, babe. Really glad you’re alright. I gotta go--lots of copy to do today. It was nice to officially meet you, Duncan--and nice to see you again, Harris. Thank you for what you did for Kenzie.” Zadie smiled at them, her gaze lingering on Kenzie for the longest, her eyes warm. She’d been Copy Editor at the Post for as long as Kenzie had been working there as a staff journalist, and she’d always been extremely kind and professional to Kenzie. Kenzie could feel that the other girl really was relieved for her. Zadie is a peach.

“Miss Mackenzie, Mr. Shepherd, I’ll be here if you need me,” Harris indicated a row of chairs near the elevators, setting the roses down in one of them. “It’s easier to see everyone coming in and out of the room if I’m near the doors.”

“Thank you, Harris,” Duncan said. Kenzie gripped his hand again and pulled him to where Candice and Ben’s office doors were, across from each other. She could see Candice’s golden head bent over her desk through the clear window into her side, the blinds open--Candice glanced over and saw them, giving them a little smile, nodding at Kenzie. Duncan noticed this exchange and leaned down to Kenzie’s ear. “Should I tell Candice about the plan today?”

“Let’s wait a little longer, baby,” Kenzie replied, pulling him towards Ben’s office door. There was a placard: BEN WILDER, EXECUTIVE FEATURES, ASSOCIATE EDITOR. His outward-facing blinds were closed. “There’s so much going on this week already. Let’s tell her after our trip, our getaway--” Kenzie felt his hands come around her, passionately, at the mention of their trip, and Kenzie felt weak in the intensity of his arms. “Fuck, baby, I can’t wait, I can’t wait to be alone with you for days, away from everyone, our secret place--” he whispered down into her ear, and she leaned her face into him as Duncan kissed under her ear. “Duty calls first, baby,” she breathed. “We have responsibilities, Mr. Shepherd.”

“Fuck responsibilities,” Duncan whispered into her ear, and Kenzie felt her knees buckle a little inside his embrace, the feeling of his mouth (god he’s so tall and so warm and fuck he feels so soft and smells so good)--she twisted out of his hold, catching Candice’s eye through her office window--Candice was glancing at them with a smile around her mouth, pressing her lips together, smirking with interest. Kenzie blushed, pressing an accusatory finger into Duncan’s chest. He was grinning at her with a perverse beauty, and she felt a flash of annoyance at the depth of his charm, his ability to disarm her entirely with a few short movements of his hands and his body against her. “Stoppit, Mr. Shepherd. I demand that you control yourself.”

“Yes, Miss Stone. I apologize, Miss Stone.” She could feel his thoughts drifting against her. Can’t wait for you to choke me with your tight little fingers and tie me to that hook and make me watch you dress in that tight little beautiful black lingerie, baby, can’t wait for you to tease my cock with your little hands and your beautiful little mouth, baby, my Kenzie--”please forgive me, Miss Stone.”

Kenzie let her breath shudder out and stared into his blue (ocean depths, sucking me down) eyes, shaking her head at him. Then she leaned over and knocked on Ben’s door sharply, three taps.

“Come innnn,” she heard Ben’s voice, drawn out. She glanced at Duncan again--his face had lost the mischievous glint he’d been giving her a moment before, and was now a mask of professionalism. A real pro, stony Duncan Shepherd, she thought towards him. But I can see your thoughts still, my naughty baby, I know what you want, my desirous Prince. She could see how badly he wanted to touch her again, see the shape of his need to feel her, and Kenzie opened Ben’s door and turned away from him, teasingly. Be patient. You have to wait.

-------

“So, Mr. Duncan Shepherd, here in my office,” Ben rolled his eyes theatrically, pursing his lips, but Kenzie could see the delight on his face, the satisfied smile hovering just under his dark, flawless skin. He pressed his fingers down into the edges of his long desk, peering at Duncan, who was sitting in one of the seats across from him, Kenzie in the other--Duncan seemed relaxed, his legs crossed, his hands in his lap, but Kenzie could feel the nervous energy of his thoughts beneath his convincing composure. Everything is gonna be fine, baby, she thought into him, and he glanced at her, then back to Ben, not saying anything. Kenzie could already see the mesmerizing effect he was having on Ben, though; the older man was staring at Duncan openly now

Today Ben was wearing a wine-colored velvet jacket with blue lapels, a navy cashmere turtleneck underneath. His glasses were rectangular with tortoiseshell frames along only the top rim, and there was long, beautiful gold-and-black rose lapel pin against his blazer. He looked extravagant and handsome, but all beauties paled next to Duncan, and Kenzie felt sure Ben was aware of that. Duncan’s sublimely handsome face seemed to be shaking Ben’s normally impregnable composure--Kenzie watched his eyes fall down Duncan’s waving hair, pushed back effortlessly from his forehead, into his piercingly blue flame eyes, his straight nose and full lips, the carefully-maintained stubble along his chiseled jaw, the raw masculinity of his throat, to his tailored black blazer and textured button-up, the incline of his long legs and flawless boots, the round, silent face of his black watch--Kenzie noticed Ben’s eyes lingering on Duncan’s beautifully long hands. Aren’t they, she thought. Aren’t they the most beautiful hands you’ve ever seen. She watched Ben’s lips part slightly, his breathing hitch. Yes, they can. Everything you’re imagining, they can do. They’ve made me writhe with pleasure every night. Kenzie blushed down at her phone in her hands, blushed at the wantonness of her own thoughts, sitting here in her editor’s office. She absently opened Instagram as she heard Duncan reply--”I was told you were most insistent with Mackenzie that I see you,” he said, a teasing edge in his voice. “She communicated to me that it was of the utmost importance.” Kenzie blanched at her follower count--1.7k million. She absently went to the photo she’d taken last night of their dinner, curious at whatever he’d left as a comment on it--she scrolled down and saw it immediately. @duncanshepherd: dessert was even better, followed by the heart with an arrow through it. Oh my fucking god, baby, she thought. The comment had thousands of likes already, despite him only having posted it less than an hour before. Kenzie came to another dawning realization at the tone Duncan was using with Ben--Oh my god, Duncan is going to flirt with him. He’s going to make sure Ben agrees to postpone publishing the interview by giving him eyes. Oh my god, baby. You’re fucking sly.

“Well,” Ben said, fingers pressing up against his chest, languidly, drifting along his lapel around the rose pin--god, it’s really working already, Ben’s absolutely flustered, I’ve never seen him this way--”I do tend to be direct, but I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by. You are a deeply interesting character, Mr. Shepherd.”

“I suppose I should say thank you for that,” Duncan replied, and then he smiled at Ben--Kenzie watched her editor’s eyelids flutter at the loveliness of her boyfriend’s smile, his white teeth cocked towards the other man, his eyes dancing. You are laying it on thick, Kenzie thought, fighting a wild urge to smack him. “I’m at your disposal, Mr. Wilder. But I have one stipulation, and I do require your discretion.”

Ben leaned forward in his seat--Kenzie could see the interest and arousal in him at Duncan’s careful, suggestive speech. “I’m listening.” His hand was on his chin, his eyes not wavering from Duncan’s (erotically, angelically) handsome face.

Duncan’s tone shifted suddenly--from casual eroticism to one of serious sincerity. “My uncle is fatally ill with prostate cancer. He will likely not live to see August. At that time, I will gain the majority share in the organization heretofore known as Shepherd Unlimited--a 3.5 billion dollar enterprise. When that happens, I will be shifting the prerogatives of the company towards philanthropy, and away from corporate interest. I would like to elucidate on that in this interview--but I cannot do that if you’re planning on making it public before the transfer of majority share happens in real time. I can certainly make it worth your while to wait, professionally-speaking--and if you can confirm your discretion is assured, we can discuss the particulars of that today.”

Ben’s mouth popped open a little. I guess that’s not what you expected to hear, Kenzie thought, still sitting quietly. “What kind of worthwhile are we talking here.”

“Financial or professional worth, it’s up to you. I’m not against one last bribe to help shift the company towards a better and more fulfilling future. Kenzie and I are committed to our goals and I will do whatever it takes to make them a reality.”

“You’re going to make Shepherd Unlimited a vehicle for philanthropy.” Ben’s tone was incredulous. And the Foundation?”

“Agree to the terms, please, Mr. Wilder.”

Ben’s face broke out into a smile that surprised Kenzie utterly--he’s happy. What?

“Mr. Shepherd, my word. Is this her doing?” Ben crooked a finger at Kenzie. “Little Miss Stone convinced you to literally move one of the most successful and powerful companies on earth towards a progressive agenda in the span of a week? I am absolutely speechless.”

“Mackenzie is extremely special. She’s a singular person who defies ordinary parameters of speech. She’s much more than she appears to be at first glance.” Duncan looked over at Kenzie, and Kenzie felt the wave of his affection cascade over her--felt the depth of feeling behind his eyes. Beloved. Exalted to me, most precious among all. “Yes, Mr. Wilder. Miss Stone was the catalyst of all this.”

Kenzie watched, still quiet, now full to the brim with emotion, watching as Ben stood, breathing in deeply, his eyes glittering. “I’m going to accept your terms, Mr. Shepherd--I won’t accept a bribe, at least, not a personal one--but I do want one thing.”

“And what’s that, Ben Wilder?”

“A generous donation to GLAAD, whence you gain majority share. It’s an organization that is very dear to me. With your financial support, it could become an even greater voice in the nation. With the financial momentum of Shepherd Unlimited behind it, we could do work that is truly transcendent for the inclusive goals of the LGBTQ community.”

Duncan replied almost immediately. “Yes. Absolutely. You have my word. As soon as I have financial control, it’s done.” He stood too, reaching his hand out to Ben, and the took men shook warmly. Kenzie felt suddenly overwhelmed with emotion--this is not how I expected this conversation to go at all, she thought, her breath hitching. This is wonderful.

“Then we most certainly have a deal. Duncan Shepherd, he of the piercing blue eyes, and Mackenzie Stone, his redemptive, intrepid love, about to be the most beloved public figures in America--” Ben sat down behind his desk again, a thoughtful expression on his face (I know that look, Kenzie thought: editorial in progress) and pressed the button on the recorder in front of him, picking a fountain pen from a copper holder beside the nameplate that faced outward toward Duncan and Kenzie. He leaned over the notepad in front of him, writing furiously for a moment as Duncan sat once more also, and both of the men were smiling--Kenzie felt the sun come out from behind a cloud, its warmth falling down through the window on them, bursting around her hair like an omen of good will as Ben began the interview. “So, tell me about your hopes for the future, Duncan…”

-----

They were back in the BMW a few hours later, on their way to Dupont Circle and Morgan’s studio. The interview with Ben had been a resounding success--Ben laughed no less than six times by Kenzie’s count, and by the end Ben was shyly touching his face and the rose at his lapel again, long since fallen prey to Duncan’s charm and aching loveliness. Being around Duncan is like a drug, Kenzie thought, like being around a Prince, a circlet of gold around his forehead, draped in dark velvets, smoldering blue fire burning in his gaze. He says I’m divine to him, and that shakes my bones--to be loved so much by someone so beautiful, to be the one he says brought his true beauty out from his soul. It makes me faint with the loveliness of it all. Kenzie had retrieved the roses the girl Lindy had given her from Harris after the interview and put them in a plastic vase from the staff kitchen, placing them on her desk before they left for the studio--they were simple, the kind one got from a grocery store--not the achingly fresh variety Duncan had bought for her. Still, she thought. Not everyone gets flowers from multiple admirers. Those girls were so sweet. It’s so strange to think I have a fan club now. She’d also opened the long manila envelope she found on her desk--the court summons Zadie had mentioned. The court date was two weeks away. Great, plenty of time to gt really nervous about it, Kenzie thought. She was lost in thoughts of the frightening encounter with the strange man when she felt Duncan’s warm, comforting touch on her leg.

“Kenz,” and Duncan was pressing his face down to her cheek, breathing in her smell, and she lifted her head so it was against his mouth. The day was still heavy with heat, the sun too bright and the clouds having disappeared; Duncan had been looking at his phone while Kenzie was drifting in her thoughts, but he had put it away, pressing against her, needy. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Why should you,” and she looked up at him, grinning. “You and all 2 million of my Instagram followers. Baby, that interview went so well, I can’t believe it. And Ben was so nice to you? He loved you. I’m just amazed. And we can do something good connected with it.”

“The interviews tomorrow are going to be hell. Mom already has forbidden us from talking very much, so we’ll likely end up just sitting around while they take photos. I’m sorry. It’s going to be a fucking drag.”

“I’m gonna wear that red dress, I think.” Kenzie looked up into his eyes, her hand coming around suggestively to his thigh. Duncan groaned softly, pressing the pads of his fingers into the soft side of her waist. “Oh my god, baby, yes please. I love that dress. I won’t be able to take my eyes off you.” “You’ll still be thinking about what I did to you when we got home--” and Kenzie pressed her fingers into the mound of his crotch, feeling gently, making his breath fall out in a harsh gasp. “What I’m gonna do to you soon--”

Samuel had pulled the BMW up to the sidewalk and Harris was coming out to Kenzie’s side of the car again, and Duncan groaned into her with frustration. “God, baby, fuck, I just wanna be alone with you, fuck everything else--” “As soon as we’re done here, baby--” and his mouth was crashing against hers again, impatient, devouring, and they pulled apart again as Harris snapped the door open. Kenzie tucked her disheveled hair behind her ears and slid out of the backseat, his scent all over her, like a tattoo that she couldn’t rub off.

Morgan’s studio in a squarish modern apartment building that held several other studios, all for various artists--one was a painter, another a sculptor, and there was a modest dance studio downstairs--Kenzie and Duncan went through the austere front lobby (it had what seemed like a hundred varieties of potted palms), Harris following at a close distance, eyes scanning carefully, and Kenzie led them through a doorway to a stairwell--”We’ll just avoid the elevator, it gets stuck sometimes,” she said to them over her shoulder, Duncan’s thumb trailing over her palm. Kenzie led them to the third floor, through a metal door back into a hallway with a row of studio doors--three in all. She went to the one furthest from the stairwell and pressed a buzzer to the side of it. A moment later Claire appeared, her face alight with happiness--”My babies!” she said gleefully, giving Kenzie a two-armed bear hug, then pressing an arm gently around Duncan’s shoulders for a moment, then, gave Harris an intrigued once-over.

“Clairebear, this is Harris, my bodyguard. He’s an absolute dream,” Kenzie smiled up at him, affectionately. Harris laughed at this, his sepia eyes dancing over Claire. “And who is this delightful creature?” He leaned down and kissed Claire’s hand--Claire’s eyes flashed and her cheeks reddened. “Oh my god, back at you, sir.” Claire waved a hand a few times over her face, as if to feign being overheated. “I’m Claire Anne Augustine, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” She dipped in a little curtsy and Harris laughed again. “Enchanting.”

“Come in, come in,” Claire beckoned to everyone, ushering them inside--Morgan’s studio was as brightly open as ever, the starkness of the black and white stripes immediate. Morgan was coming toward them, her wild orange hair striking against the walls. She leaned to Duncan, her hands in their customary long black gloves, and smiled magnanimously. “What a delight to finally meet the Shepherd heir apparent,” she cooed in her small voice. “And you’re more beautiful than even your celebrity would suggest, I see. I’m Morgan, my dear. Please call me such.”

Duncan dipped his head, shyly. “And please call me Duncan, Morgan. A pleasure.”

“Claire and dear Mackenzie have told me they wish her dress to remain a secret until the night of the Gala, so we’ve hidden our progress--but I think Mackenzie should also approve of my sketches regarding your own accoutrements for the night,” Morgan drolled. “A woman’s eye is everything in these matters, wouldn’t you agree.” She peered at Duncan over her huge, black triangular spectacles, as if to appraise his reaction. “I certainly do,” Duncan said, glancing over at Kenzie. “Kenzie has to love it or I certainly won’t wear it, no offense to you, Morgan.”

“None taken, my dear, in matters of the heart, true understanding is everything, isn’t it.” Morgan moved past everyone, not waiting for an answer--Claire beckoned to them as she followed behind Morgan’s huge orange wig, moving to a oblong, low white table where several sketchbooks were scattered. Morgan opened one with a dark leather cover to a spot she seemed to have marked with a long strip of shiny gold material--Kenzie’s heart thumped wildly at the sight of it, remembering the sketches Morgan had shown her for her dress. Morgan brought the open page over to Duncan, who gazed down at it--Kenzie saw his eyes widen and his head start to nod in approval, a satisfied smile on his mouth.

“Kenz, look,” he murmured to her, gently lifting the sketchbook toward her. On the page Morgan had drawn a dark blazer with wide lapels--down the shoulders dripped cascades of gold, like stars melting out of the sky, like some colossal god had been painting with them and smeared them earthwards with a careless hand. This is how it feels when you touch me, his mind brushed against hers as his hand touched hers under the sketchbook. Like your gold is melting down onto me.

“Duncan, it’s perfect,” Kenzie said, looking up at him and then at Morgan. Harris was standing quietly, surveying the expanse of Morgan’s studio--Claire was watching her and Duncan standing side by side, a look of deep affection in her eyes. In the drawing Morgan had given the model a black high-collared shirt with gold tips, and no tie. Very Duncan. She must have carefully considered his style.

“I agree,” Duncan said, and she could see how pleased he was, how delighted. “Morgan, I love it.”

Morgan breathed an overwrought sigh of relief; “Well, what cause for celebration,” she trilled. “Claire, get the champagne.”

“Whoo!” Claire whooped, running over to where a mini fridge (also painted black and white) was hiding in a curve against a tall fabric dresser. She pulled out a bottle of Moet and glanced up at Kenzie. “Kenzie, you’re only allowed to have one glass after the other night.”

“Oh fuck off, Claire,” but Kenzie was smiling at her best friend. Harris had gone over to Claire and was helping her hold several plastic coupes she was retrieving from a cupboard along the wall further down, a sink adjoining. “This isn’t the first time Morgan and I have had champagne in the early afternoon, so I probably should fuck off,” Claire replied. Harris took the bottle from her carefully, and Claire smiled up at him, coyly. “Why, thank you, Harris. What a gentleman.” Claire fucking loves Harris, wow. I mean--he is extremely handsome for an older man. And he’s...really strong. Kenzie snorted at her own thoughts. Maybe I could play matchmaker for my best friend and my bodyguard. Harris popped the cork of the bottle and poured it carefully into the coupes, and Kenzie watched his eyes follow Claire’s back as she came to where Duncan and Kenzie stood, passing two of the coupes to them as Duncan carefully set the sketchbook out of reach.

“To being on every best-dressed list and the front page of Vogue the morning after!” Morgan said to the ceiling as they all bumped the glasses together a moment later; Claire laughed into her hand as Duncan and Kenzie gazed at each other--this is how it feels when you touch me--his thought was still drifting between them, his eyes falling over her, and Kenzie was longing to be alone with him. I’ll touch you as much as you want, baby, she thought into him, pressing gold dust around his waving hair. I’ll drip my gold into your mouth and down your skin, draw sigils into your body with my gold, mark you as mine, beloved. We’re going to be so beautiful together at the Gala, no one will be able to look away from our radiance, the blinding golden sunlight of our love. Not even your mother.

------

Samuel had driven them home after that--it was early afternoon, just after 5, and the heat was pressing all around them, the champagne they’d had buzzing under Kenzie’s skin--she’d had just enough to kindle the desirous need in the pit of her belly, just enough to feel drunk. Morgan and Claire had had a tray of charcuterie for everyone as well, but Kenzie’s belly was rumbling with hunger--she’d only had a few pieces of the cheese and crackers, and remembered she’d only had the smoothie Duncan made her for breakfast. But I’m hungrier for you, she thought, feeling Duncan’s eyes on her as she stared out the window of the BMW on the National Mall, feeling the tips of his long fingers falling down her hand between them.

I’m starving for you, angel. I don’t wanna wait until tonight. I want you to do all those things to me as soon as we get home, while the sunset kisses us through the window, while I can see it fall over your skin. Then we can order so much take out. So fucking much. How does that sound?

“Dunny, baby, kiss me,” Kenzie turned her head and lifted her mouth to him, and Duncan was pulling her into his lap insistently, pulling her throat into his lips, whispering into her skin. “Kenzie, I can’t wait to see your dress, god, you’re going to look so beautiful, I can’t wait for us to change everything--it’s like everything is holding its breath--” Duncan kissed her mouth and his was so warm and tasted so sweet and Billie Holiday was on the stereo--all of me, why not take all of me, can’t you see I’m no good without you, take my lips, I want to lose them--and then he was speaking into her mind again, the softest, sweetest, most aching thoughts: I can’t wait for us to go to the cabin all alone for days and days and look at the stars while I fuck you in the long grass and by the fire and in the sweet darkness--you’ll see, it’s so quiet out there, no traffic, no shouting people, nothing but the crickets and the frogs at night and the wind and the sound of your sweet little cries against me, oh, baby, you smell so good, my angel, baby love--

Kenzie let out a little whine of frustration as they came up to the high-rise; the partition floated down but Kenzie was already sliding off Duncan and throwing the door open--a burst of warm summer air penetrated the cool cocoon of the backseat--”good night, Samuel and Harris!” Kenzie called behind her, and Harris, who had been about to open his door, stopped and looked after them grinning, turning to say something to Samuel that she couldn’t hear-- Kenzie had already yanked Duncan’s hand behind her, pulling him out of the car, snatching up her satchel. On the sidewalk he grasped her against him, lifting her up into his mouth again; she gasped into him and pushed herself down from him gently, “Come on, baby,” she demanded, her nerves buzzing with champagne and impatience. “I wanna be alone with you, really alone.”

“Race you,” Duncan said, a sudden, dastardly smile falling over his loveliness, and took off ahead of her towards the front door--Jerry swung it open, blinking at Duncan running past him, and Kenzie cried out in frustration, chasing after him. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen Mr. Shepherd run quite that fast--” she heard Jerry say as she skirted around him, her satchel smacking against her hip. Anchaly was staring at Duncan flying past him with raised eyebrows--Duncan slipped into the elevator and Kenzie let out another cry. “Duncan Shepherd, don’t you dare--” but by the time she reached it the doors were sliding closed and she caught the end of his vexing laugh, his blue eyes (the knowing burst of a summer sky) pushing arch desires into her. Come fuck me baby.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking get you for that, baby,” Kenzie murmured under her breath, the wind snatched out of her. She pressed the elevator button in quick succession, a frustrated whine leaking out of her. Anchaly was peering around the corner at her, a look of great amusement on his face. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” he called out to her across the marble foyer. Kenzie gave him a frustrated glance. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate,” she replied. “My minor was in English. Though he can’t have been speaking for my temper.”

“Ah, but for your loveliness, I think so.” Anchaly laughed as the second elevator slid open and Kenzie hopped inside, giving him the finger, playfully. He laughed harder at that. Kenzie’s buzz from the champagne was still riding high--adrenaline was now pumping through her body, desirous exasperation humming under her skin. Baby, I can’t believe you did that. I’m really going to tie you up now. Kenzie stared at her own reflection in the elevator’s mirror--her chestnutty hair in waves around her shoulders, her little mouth, pressed to roses by his kisses, the blush in her cheeks from running, the wideness and shine of her eyes, anticipating the moment she’d touch him again--aching for even the momentary loss of Duncan’s fingers, his burning mouth. How dare you frustrate me so, beloved. She thought of the laugh in his eyes--come to me, Persephone, come into my arms, in the shadow of evening. She watched the elevator climb (19, 20, 21) and thought of the blazer with dripping gold that Morgan was going to make him--thought of them all in gold at the Gala in a few days, cameras flashing, and them together, as it was always meant to be. With a strange wave of deja vu, Kenzie recalled a flash of the dream she’d had that morning--her aching despair to look into the eyes of her beloved, but to not see him there, to see someone else, a person she did not know, a creature of darkness. My darling, even in that world, I’d find a way to save you. I’d find a way to pull you back out of the darkness. I swear I would.

The elevator finally dinged to the 30th floor. Kenzie breathed a deep sigh of relief as the doors slid open--she jumped out--the hall was empty. Kenzie walked swiftly to the penthouse door, fumbling for her keycard, jamming it into the door, her heart racing--where are you, baby, where are you--she pulled the door open with impatience, tossing her head from side to side. “Duncan?” She called. No answer. Oh, you’ve really done it now. “Baby, this isn’t funny.” She dropped her satchel on the spotless stone tile of the kitchen floor--and as Kenzie moved into the living room, the sunset cascading down through the picture window, a sudden, terrible burst of fear flitted through her heart. What if, like in my dream this morning, he’s gone. What if he disappeared, into nothingness, lost in the void, and I can’t find him? It didn’t matter that the thought was wild and unbidden--if I live in a world now where the paparazzi follow me everywhere I go, if I live in a world where I can read my lover’s thoughts, I could also live in a world where people disappear without warning, vanish in a puff of smoke, couldn’t I.

The fear really clenched around her heart then, and Kenzie clutched her arms around her belly, tears immediately coming into her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “No. That can’t--” and then she cried out as she suddenly felt his arms come down around her, his large body envelop hers as he came up behind her--”Gotcha” he sung into her ear, and then Duncan seemed to realize, his face pressed into her and his arms around her, that she was distraught--seemed to feel the fear and the despair that had come over her a moment before through her skin, and his breath caught as he held her.

“Kenzie, baby, what is it?” His eyes came into hers, the playful teasing eking out of them, replaced with confusion and distress for her.

“I thought--I thought you’d--I thought you’d disappeared,” Kenzie felt the horrible despair dissipate, and in its place came a heady relief that brought more tears instantly into her eyes and suddenly she was crying, really crying, her face crumpling in the warmth of his embrace. “I thought of my dream, where there was that person with your face but you weren’t inside him, and then I thought, what if you had vanished, what if you’d vanished like that--” Kenzie’s face was now wet with the cascade of her tears, her lip trembling and her voice strangled with a sob. Duncan’s hands immediately grasped her more tightly, his beautiful face now aching with torment, and he pressed her against him, and his mouth was coming down to kiss hers and his hands coming up to wipe at her cheeks, running his damp hands along his shirt, uncaring.

“No, baby, no, I’m sorry--I was just teasing you--I was behind the door when you came in, oh Kenzie, please don’t cry, fuck--”

“I’m sorry,” Kenzie’s voice was tinged with her tears still, and she felt ridiculous, felt foolish, felt despondent that she’d overreacted this way--she tried to turn away from him but Duncan said “no, baby, it’s okay, let me hold you,” and Kenzie softened in his arms and felt the cool, loving blue flames of him licking into the lining of her and immediately felt herself calming, felt her tears begin to go cool and dry from the edges of her vision.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kenzie. Listen to me. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, I love you so fucking much, I’m sorry I scared you, baby, angel--”  Duncan spoke into the side of her hair, down to her ear, his arms tight around her, and then he turned her face up into him again and kissed her, and Kenzie gripped at his blazer desperately, pulling him down into her. “No, you fucking aren’t,” she whispered into his mouth, and felt him shudder under her, saw the spark that lit itself behind his gaze at the command in her voice. She pushed him back as he went to kiss her again, her fingers gripping onto his jaw then falling to clutch his neck, forcing him to stare into her eyes.

”Go in the bedroom and take your clothes off.”

“Fuck. Yes, Kenzie.” He stepped backwards, eyes still in hers, tugging his blazer off and discarding it to the floor, long hands coming up to his throat to start at the buttons there, turning away from her reluctantly--Kenzie followed behind him, her arms crossed, watching him. He reached the edge of the bed, now remade perfectly by the unseen hands of the housekeepers, dark and silent, the late afternoon sun not reaching this part of the penthouse--the room was bathed in shadow, and Duncan went to turn on one of the lamps, but Kenzie said “No, don’t. I’ll do it. Keep taking your clothes off, baby. Do as I told you.”

“Mhmm, baby.” Duncan turned away from the lamp and kicked his boots off, his tall form facing her now, still working at the buttons of his dark tailored shirt. Kenzie walked past him, and she saw the longing in his eyes, the longing to reach out and touch her, but he continued to unbutton the shirt obediently as she leaned down to the lamp, turning it to the lowest setting so the room was still waves of shadows. She straightened, her eyes moving from his hair to his face, his naked torso emerging from underneath his shirt, his crotch, which she could see growing hard under the fabric of his tailored pants, his long legs and dark socks. She reached forward--she saw his mouth hover open, saw his eyes go dark with need for her. Kenzie’s hands fell on the metal buckle of his belt--looking up at him, letting her eyes fall open and closed slowly, letting her mouth dip open and her tongue slide along her bottom lip, she undid the buckle and eased the belt out from his waist as he pulled the shirt off, discarding it too on the floor, his eyes unmoving from her face--they watched her tongue and a tiny, almost imperceptible moan fell from his lips, and Kenzie drifted her fingers up to his bare skin as his hands came down to grasp hers for a moment, his fingers hot and flushed, then they moved under her to work at his pants, pushing them down, easing himself onto the bed which was now behind them to work them off. Kenzie was still full clothed--she thrilled at this, her nerves burning at his vulnerability to her in this moment--Duncan’s pants came off finally, and he eased his socks off too, then he grasped at the waistband of his briefs for a moment, staring into her face again.

“Take those off,” Kenzie said. She couldn’t stop the smile that played around her mouth--Duncan saw it and he nodded, laying back and pushing them down his thighs. His cock fell out, hard, jumping against his leg. Duncan leaned up now, underwear discarded--he sat at the edge of the bed, his hand hovering near his erection, and his eyes burning on her. Kenzie stood in front of him, her arms coming down to her sides, heart hammering, appraising him. Duncan moved to grip himself, neediness in his eyes, but Kenzie shook her head and he stopped.

“Stop, Dunny. Not yet, baby.”

“Mm, Kenzie. Baby. I’m hard for you.”

“Uh huh. I can see that. Don’t move. Don’t you dare.”

“Yes, Kenzie.” Duncan’s hands gripped the edge of the bed; he bit his lip, his eyes falling closed, achingly. Kenzie stepped into the walk-in closet, untying her wedge sandals, stepping out of them, going to the drawer with the thick velvet ribbon, reaching up to where the black geometric lingerie hung. Her nerves thrilled when she reemerged--Duncan stared at her, his face flushed, his cock still very hard and pressing against his stomach, his hands unmoved from where they still rested on either side of his thighs.

“I wanna touch you so fucking bad, baby,” he murmured. The neediness in his voice made warmth pool between Kenzie’s legs, and she fought to clear her head of the haze that wanted to hang down low in her mind at the sight of him this way.

“Be patient. You need to wait.”

“Uhh huh, angel.”

Kenzie set the ribbon and the hangers with the black lingerie on them beside him on the dark coverlet, then she said “Duncan, stand up,” in a firm voice. Duncan immediately stood, stepping closer to her--Kenzie moved back as he tried to touch her, and he whined quietly. “Go over to the hook and hold onto the chain, baby. Like I did last night. Do it.”

Duncan’s eyes fluttered closed and he bit into his lip--Kenzie could see the coiling pleasure in his face, the fervor building there. He stepped back from her to the chain where it hung down in the mirror--she watched his eyes look up at himself in its surface, at his nakedness and his hardness, his hand coming up through his hair, then over his shoulder into her eyes where she watched him. I need you so much, Kenzie, his thought drifted into her. I need you to touch me so much. Fuck, baby, I’m weak for you, fuck, this is torture, but fuck, I love it, I love your commands, keep going, please, I want you to tie me up so much--

Duncan’s (long, beautiful, graceful) hands gripped the chain, his back facing her, his eyes staring at her in the glass. “Good, baby, perfect, now, don’t move,” Kenzie said, and left the room again. I’m too short to reach him, she realized, I’m gonna need some help. She grasped one of the tall chairs from the kitchen island and carefully carried it back into the bedroom--Duncan noticed what she was doing and a grin broke over his loveliness.

“My Kenzie’s too little to tie me up,” he whispered down to her as she put the chair in front of him. Kenzie climbed into it and reached out--she immediately gripped his throat harshly, and Duncan’s words cut off, a sharp gasp falling out of his mouth. She crushed her lips into his, slipping her tongue against his, and Duncan moaned, the feeling reverberating against her hand. He went to lift his hands down from the chain to touch her, but Kenzie moved her head back with a snap and said “No, Duncan, do not let go of that chain,” and gripped his neck more tightly, making him gasp again. Duncan’s fingers twined back inside the links--he pouted a little. “Sorry baby.”

She climbed down to retrieve the black ribbon; climbed back up onto the chair, Duncan’s eyes watching her every movement. Kenzie moved the ribbon through the links and then around each of Duncan’s wrists three times--her heart ached as she did this, beating wildly, and Kenzie could feel the flush on her skin, the nervousness. I’ve never tied anyone up before, she thought into him. You’re my first, baby.

It’s making me so fucking hard, baby, he thought back into her. I’m fucking aching for you. Please touch me soon.

I will. But not yet.

Kenzie yanked the two ends of the velvet ribbon together--Duncan’s wrists came together with a soft slap of flesh against flesh, and she heard the sharp intake of his breath--then Ken tied the knots tight, and climbed down.

“Move your wrists, baby,” she said, moving the chair to the side.

Duncan struggled for a moment against the velvet.

“You tied me good, baby.”

Kenzie grinned at him; she felt the aching affection in his eyes as she did. My angel, when you smile that way, you set my heart on fire.

“Watch me change, baby.”

Duncan nodded; his eyes drifted closed for another moment, then opened on her again, and his cock jumped against his stomach.

Kenzie undid the button at the back of her blouse and pulled it out of her skirt, lifting it over her head. Now, let’s talk, she thought, only this way, not out loud. I want to see if we can hear everything. Kenzie undid the hook of her bra as he nodded to her.

Okay, baby. You look so beautiful. The light’s so soft on you. Your hair is like gold. I want you so fucking bad.

Prince Duncan, she thought, letting the bra fall to the floor, her little breasts free to his gaze now. Soon to be the King, soon to rule an empire. And how do you feel, my Prince? She moved her hands to the back of her skirt, pulling the zipper down, stepping out of it; she pushed her panties off her hips, turning her back to him, watching his eyes fall down her shoulders and her ass, the backs of her thighs.

Like the happiest and most fortunate man on Earth. For my beloved is most fair, most exalted among all earthly creatures, and she can see into my soul, and she’s the piece of me that was torn away, and is now found again. She’s like the moon rising over the sea, the stars in their endless turning. She is everything to me. Without her, I’m in darkness.

Kenzie shivered at his thoughts--she reached for the delicate black tulle panties first, slipping them slowly up her hips, feeling the gathering wetness between her legs push into the soft crotch of them. She reached for the sheer stockings next, sitting primly on the edge of the bed as she eased them up to her thighs, glancing up to where Duncan was tied every now and then, his back and ass to her from this angle, illuminated in soft light and shadow, his eyes piercing into her through the mirror.

Tell me how much you love me, baby, Kenzie thought. Speak it into my secret soul, press your lips there like you do sometimes. I know you can.

Oh, Kenzie. I love you like the first sweet dawn of spring after the longest, coldest winter.

Kenzie slipped the beautifully geometric bra around her torso, locking the clasps together, then gently pulling the cups around to her breasts, pulling the straps onto her shoulders--she looked up into Duncan’s wildly blue eyes, hands falling through her hair, tossing it back.

More baby, more.

I love you like the coolness of autumn after the harshest heat of crushing summer.

Kenzie slipped the suspender around her waist, the straps hanging down at her thighs; she gently leaned down to the edge of the stockings and clipped the straps into them, first the two in the front, then the ones behind, over the rise at the side of her ass and thighs, and she heard him sigh--sigh with longing.

I love you more than sunlight, more than moonlight, more than I love every star, you’re the rain in the desert, the sweet tide, the wind in the trees in the evening, the haze of sunset colors, you are more beautiful than any art I’ve ever beheld, more delicate than any shivering flower, softer than the sweetness of any fruit, Kenzie, my Kenzie...every moment I’m away from you you intoxicate my thoughts, you fill every corner of my mind--

Kenzie moved towards him now, her hands on her hips, stepping around to where he faced the mirror, his wrists bound together.

“Baby, that’s fucking beautiful,” she breathed up to him, and she trailed her hand down from his chest to the dip between his ribs, and Duncan shivered terribly under her touch. “Keep going.”

Duncan’s eyes fell closed as her hands continued to fall--to his bellybutton, then to where his cock was jumping, achingly hard, against his abdomen, red and shivering with strain. Kenzie leaned her head down and hesitated--then his thoughts began to bleed into her again, and she spit a gush of saliva down onto the head of his cock, her hand coming up to ease the wetness down. You’re like an angel--uhh, angel--you’re like a real angel, sometimes I can see the halo around you, a gold ring more beautiful than anything on earth, and it’s like a secret aura around you, like a secret part of you that only I can see, proof of your divinity--oh, fuck, baby--

Kenzie had knelt on the floor before him, hand still gripping his cock, her mouth hovering just at the head of him, her legs parted so her sex stretched in the tulle panties, her tongue snaking out to probe into the hole at the tip of his length--she lifted a hand up to grip her breast through the delicate black tulle, looking into his (sapphire, lapis, turquoise) eyes, and she said “keep going, baby,” and lowered her mouth onto him, her tongue pressing against the underside of him, and she saw his hands strain against the velvet, straining with his need to touch her. The thoughts from him seemed to muddle into colors for a moment--indigo, midnight blue, plum-wine--then they surged back into her, stronger than ever, and terrible with need.

You’re my Persephone, I snatched you from the world in the great moment of Fortune that fell on me and I brought you here to be with me, to my realm where nothing grew, and you scattered your light all over every part of me and now everything I touch here my hand comes away covered in gold that you left on it--uhh, Kenzie, fuck, your mouth is so small and so wet and so fucking warm around me--and--and all I ever want to do is fuck you into ecstatic euphoria and make you come over and over and--over--fuck--until we forget everything but each other, Kenzie, fuuuck, I wanted you to tie me up because I want you to know that I fucking belong to you, baby, I’m yours, my body is for you and you can do whatever you want to me because I will love you no matter what, I’ll love your sadness and your anger and your frustration, your need and your annoyance, your doubt, your exhaustion, your hidden dark places, your secret self, your shadow--your luxuriant, lovely shadow, I love her too, I love you, fucking fuck me baby, fuck me with your mouth, I love you forever, until the end of time and even when there is nothing but darkness, the memory of my love for you will still echo in the emptiness--

Kenzie sucked at him, eagerly, overcome, a pilling need building in her stomach, but she also felt the tears that were gathering in her eyes again--god, when I write my book, baby, I’ll make it speak like you do into my mind and my heart, baby, I’ll make it sound like you do with your lips pressed against my soul this way. Because I know you mean every word with every part of yourself, because I can FEEL you. I can feel all of you, the beautiful sincerity of you, the light that’s shining out of you every day now--you said I kindled your soul, your real soul, and I fucking see you, baby, I can see it. Kenzie could feel the head of his cock thrusting into the deepness of her throat, feel the delicate veins of his length under her tongue, against the roof of her mouth, and her eyes rolled back. Fuck my mouth, baby, beloved, fuck my little mouth, it’s for you, for your kisses, for your thick cock, for your pleasure, my beautiful Prince.

“Kenzie, can I--can I please come, baby?” Duncan’s voice was weak, pleading, raw with the edge of his release. “Please let me come.”

Kenzie came up for air, her lips slipping down the end of his wet shaft, hovering on his head. “Tell me I’m your princess first, baby, tell me I’m your angel.”

“Fuck, Kenzie, you are my fucking princess, you are my only angel, the only one--”

“Okay, baby, come now, fucking come for me.”

Kenzie dipped his cock down into her throat one last time, then leaned back as she felt him release into her mouth, hot and slick, the taste of him salt and sweet--Duncan shuddered and moaned, his eyes heavy-lidded but not quite shut, staring down at where she kneeled on the floor, letting her mouth dip open so his come fell down her chin and dripped between her breasts and slid in rivulets down her stomach, marking her as his. “Good, baby,” Kenzie licked her lips, swallowing the half of his come that had spurted into her mouth, bringing her fingers down to the white liquid on her skin, scooping it up and pressing it between her lips, swallowing that too. “Fucking good, baby. You sounded so beautiful in my mind. Like velvet. Like your hands were touching me everywhere. Absolutely everywhere.”

“I wanna make you come now, baby.” Kenzie stood as Duncan said it. She looked up at him, still licking her lips.

“I wanna order dinner, Dunny. I’m starving. Then I want us to go to bed. Then, in the middle of the night, I want you to wake me up with kisses and fuck me in the dark with your lips pressed into my shadows. Like you were thinking into me. I want you to kiss my shadows, I want you to kiss them and touch them with aching hands. Will you do that for me, Prince Duncan?” Kenzie pulled the chair over to him, climbing up and reaching to his wrists in the velvet trappings as he leaned into her, his lips kissing everywhere he could reach, her arms and the crook of her elbow and the dip of her shoulders--she worked him free and his hands came down immediately, his desperation snatching her breath away, and he gripped her with hands that she knew could rend her if he wanted it, but they wanted to hold her, and she knew that too, wanted nothing but to hold her and press her into him, which he did now with a softness that made her gasp.

“Yes. I will, I will. Will you kiss mine, too, baby? My shadows?”

Kenzie raised her head and pulled his jaw down to her--Duncan was lifting her, throwing her down into their bed, her hair tossing behind her in a gold wave, his tongue licking her bottom lip where his come had coated her a moment before, his hands pressing at the tulle she was wrapped in. Kenzie’s hands came up to his throat and pulled him into her mouth, roughly--and she thought into him as she gripped him there, tightly, the jut of his adam’s apple pressing into her palm, and he gasped into her kiss.

Yes, yes, baby, yes I fucking will. I will love your shadows as I love your light. I will press myself to them and call them fair and beautiful. For I love you. All of you. 

[cgainsbourgs]

mafe ¿como has estado? espero que bien. Quería ver si puedes hacer una lista con canciones que has estado escuchando recientemente o simplemente te gusten

que bueno que respondí esta pregunta hoy! hace mucho (en realidad no recuerdo exactamente cuándo) hice una lista en spotify y ayer la descubrí de nuevo y estoy muy satisfecha con ella. contiene estas canciones:

demons - fatboy slim / 10am gare du nord - keaton henson / lying to you - keaton henson / waiting for love - avicii / what's up - 4 non blondes / queen of peace - florence and the machine / caught - florence and the machine / mother - florence and the machine / which witch - florence and the machine / elastic heart - sia / eye of the needle - sia / thinking out loud - ed sheeran / one - ed sheeran / this summer - maroon 5 / the nights - avicii / outside - calvin harris & ellie goulding / summer - calvin harris / pray to god - calvin harris & haim / addicted to you - avicii / geronimo - sheppard / hold my hand - jess glynne / emergency - icona pop / bills - lunchmoney lewis / worth it - fifth harmony / sledgehammer - fifth harmony / bo$$ - fifth harmony / girls in luv - dj housekat / offer - together pangea / river - together pangea / badillac - together pangea / sun is shining - axwell ingrosso / are you with me - lost frequencies / the party line - belle & sebastian / the cat with the cream - belle & sebastian / enter sylvia plath - belle & sebastian / the everlasting muse - belle & sebastian / standing in the way of control - gossip / heavy cross - gossip / cookie thumper! - die antwoord / baby's on fire - die antwoord / girl i want 2 eat u - die antwoord / sex - die antwoord / enter the ninja - die antwoord / girls like girls - hayley kiyoko / gravel to tempo - hayley kiyoko / paris is burning - st. vincent / cruel - st. vincent / black hole sun - soundgarden / self control - laura branigan / plush - stone temple pilots / sparks - jesse woods / vampire smile - kyla la grange / bop bop - inna & eric turner / baby one more time - tove styrke / sparks - hilary duff / celeste - ezra vine / drag me down - one direction / hey angel - one direction / no control - one direction / girl almighty - one direction / never enough - one direction / closer - tegan and sara / want u back - cher lloyd / lakehouse - of monsters and men / little talks - of monsters and men / empire - of monsters and men / you know you like it - dj snake / stole the show - kygo & parson james / home - edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros / sweet disposition - the temper trap / marry you - bruno mars / read all about it pt.iii - emeli sandé / teenage dream - katy perry / it's oh so quiet - björk / i gotta feeling - the black eyed peas / the time - the black eyed peas / bitch better have my money - rihanna / your woman - white town / multiply - jamie lidell / preacherman - melody gardot / stop! in the name of love - the supremes / che voule questa musica stasera - armando trovajoli / to a poet - first aid kit / cedar lane - first aid kit / master pretender - first aid kit / the state of dreaming - marina and the diamonds / hermit the frog - marina and the diamonds / power and control - marina and the diamonds / in the room where you sleep - dead man's bones / queen of denmark - john grant / my body's a zombie for you - dead man's bones / pa pa power - dead man's bones / ugly heart - g.r.l  / end of the day - one direction / be like you - evergreen / genghis khan - miike snow / pillow talk - zayn / it's you - zayn / all those friendly people - the young professionals / reality - lost frequencies / like a would - zayn / fool for you - zayn / what is love - exo m / need to feel needed / freal luv - far east movement / rich white girls - mansionz  / crown of love - arcade fire / neighborhood #1 - arcade fire / wake up - arcade fire / rebellion- arcade fire / something just like this - the chainsmokers & coldplay / big jet plane - angus & julia stone

es una lista un poco rara jaja pero las que escucho ahora mismo son muy pocas, estas son: BABY - CLEAN BANDIT & MARINA / SOLO - CLEAN BANDIT & DEMI LOVATO / CON CALMA - DADDY YANKEE & SNOW / UNFORGETTABLE - FRENCH MONTANA / LET’S SHUT UP & DANCE - JASON DERULO & LAY & NCT 127

y este hermoso remix de esta canción que no conocía. esta literal es obsesión total desde septiembre del año pasado:

[somewhereapart]

Erosion

True Love can break any curse—but can it survive the breaking? An addendum to Parks and Wreck, for OQ Happy Ending Week, Day 5 (Friday)

Read/review on Ao3 or FFnet.

This place is not designed for Happy Endings, and she has always known that. She had made it so.

She had hoped, once, dangerously, that she might be able to slip free of the curse’s clutches. That as the architect she might be immune from it’s wrath—it’s what she’d told herself when she woke up on a chilly New Year’s Day under the warm cocoon of covers with Rob Locksley curled against her back.

She’d convinced herself that they’d be safe from all this, even though she knew, deep down, that they’d been undoing it bit by bit since that first kiss.

The problem is simply that she likes him so much.

No. She doesn’t like him. She loves him, and that was her mistake.

True Love is strong enough to break any curse, even her own, and as the months moved on and on, she’d turned a blind eye to the danger in front of her. The Blue Knight had been joined in the sky by the Queen’s Scepter, and the Celestial Galleon, and she had caught him once standing on his porch, at that cabin tucked back in the woods, staring up at towering oak and poplar. He’d been frowning, deeply, and as Henry had chased Landon around the side of the house, she’d asked Rob what had him so lost in thought.

“These trees are all wrong,” he’d muttered. “There should be a grove of Witches’ Pine here; it’s always grown outside my home.”

Witches’ Pine doesn’t grow in Storybrooke, or anywhere in this realm. It does grow rampant all through Sherwood Forest, and the Dark Woods of the Enchanted Forest.

The words had made her stomach go sour, just like every other little remembrance he’s had. But he’d turned his head and seen her, and then blinked, and then smiled. And forgotten.

Just like the Blue Knight and the Queen’s Scepter, the Witches’ Pine had notched away inside his head and found a home there among the curse’s many lies.

She’d thought perhaps it would go on that way forever, little bits of the-life-that-was spilling over into the-life-that-is in drips and trickles. A tree here, a constellation there, but nothing so much that it would move the sun or sink the moon.

She’d forgotten that a drip here, a drop there, again and again is all that it takes to carve canyons into mountains. To bore holes through the rock solid foundation of her curse.

Six months go by and he stares longer at trees, at people, at her. He looks sometimes like he’s trying to work out the answer to a particularly vexing problem, and she loves him, so she ignores it. She tells herself it’s nothing, that she’s imagining it, that she’s paranoid—until one night he wakes in a cold sweat, panting, the force of his nightmare rousing her from otherwise pleasant dreams.

When she reaches to soothe him, he recoils, barks, “Don’t touch me, you wicked woman!” and for a moment he looks at her like he doesn’t know her.

Or worse, like he does.

She’s stunned, rooted; tears well in her eyes even though she knows she should be strong, she should not cry. She had to know that someday this would happen, that it was inevitable.

This land was not built for Happy Endings—not even, it seems, her own.

And then just like that, he crumples, reaching for her with apologies on his lips, drawing her close and whispering into her hair that he didn’t mean it, not one bit. He tells her that she’s lovely, and that he adores her, that she’s precious to him. Swears he’d been caught between sleep and waking, a nightmare fresh in his mind. He begs forgiveness, and she gives it.

It tastes like ash on her tongue.

He is not the one who needs forgiveness.

.::.

She doesn’t sleep. Lies awake until the dawn touches the windowsill and creeps across the floor, and then she slips from the bed and makes coffee, thick and dark the way he likes it. She grimaces with every sip as she curls her knees to her chest on the old swing on his front porch and stares at where Witches’ Pine should (never) grow.

She has a choice to make. Love him or leave him. Either way, she’s destined to lose him.

He finds her there, sitting on the porch, the dregs of her coffee gone cold. Her bones feel cold, too.

She knows what she needs to do. Even as he sits beside her, the bench creaking under the shift in weight, she prepares herself for his impending distance.

She loves him. He will hate her.

The way she always knew he would.

“Did you get any sleep at all after I woke you?” he wonders, guilt heavy on his tongue.

She frowns and asks, “What was the dream?”

Rob looks away and mutters, “Doesn’t matter now. The mind plays tricks; it wasn’t real.”

She swallows heavily, heart beating hard in her throat and asks, “What if it was?”

Rob squints at her for a moment, then shakes his head, dismisses, “No. Don’t be silly, love. That woman I dreamt of, she wore your face, but she wasn’t you. She was… evil. You’re not that.” His shoulder bumps hers, teasing, playful; it hurts to smile back. “Bold and audacious, perhaps. A bit stubborn, and I wouldn’t want to come between you and your morning coffee. But you’re no Evil Queen. I know you.”

Her eyes squeeze shut; those fault lines he’d put in her heart months ago start to spread and tremble. She will break open and shatter into shards at his rejection, but she cannot go another day lying to him.

Secrets always bear harsher punishments than confessions.

“You do,” she gasps, forcing her eyes open, forcing them to meet his own confused blues. “You’re the only one in all these years who ever has. It’s why I love you… Robin Hood.”

It hits him like a bolt; she can see the recognition dawn on him. His hand releases hers like a trap springing open (so why does it feel like she’s ensared herself?). He shifts, moves away one inch, maybe two. His head turns toward those missing pines, then back at her.

“What have you done?”

.::.

She thought he would be murderous.

He is not.

Strong men can be gentle, and he’s gentle even in this. She can see the betrayal, can watch it percolate and rise as he realizes the woman whose bed he’s been sharing is the very same evil monster who’d haunted his dreams. His land.

“I cast a curse,” she whispers. “I made this place; I changed everything. But you… you’ve been waking up.”

“Why?” he asks, harshly.

She doesn’t know if he means why she cast the curse or why he’s broken free, but the answer to the second question comes more easily, so that’s the one she chooses to answer. She tells him what she’d told Snow White all those years ago (who knew the innocence of Regina’s youth could destroy her so many times over?): “True Love is magic. It’s strong enough to break any curse. And I do love you, Rob. I really, truly do. This land may be woven from magic, but what we have is real. I meant every word of it. Every kiss. Every touch.”

She cries as she says it. He looks at her like she’s grown a second head. Or like she’s a murderous despot who shed the blood of scores of his countrymen in a quest for vengeance.

For a long while, there’s only the birdsong of early morning and the hammering of her terrified heart, and then he tells her, “I think you should go.”

.::.

It’s three days before she sees him again.

Three days where she jumps at every knock on her door. Three days of expecting an angry mob brandishing pitchforks to stalk up her drive. Three days where her heart feels hollowed-out and empty, and three days where Henry asks why his playdate with Landon has been put off again, and again.

She didn’t expect his apparent mercy, but she’s grateful for it. She doesn’t deserve it.

When he comes to her, it’s nearly midnight; she’s already dressed for bed.

He stands on the porch and looks her up and down, that same seeking, searching look he’d given poplars and the stars. “I want to know who you are.”

She thinks maybe he’s forgotten yet again, maybe the curse has remixed his brain once more. So it’s entirely masochistic to tell him, “You do.”

“No.” He’s like steel over candy floss—so firm in his convictions but she can see the tender sweetness of him beneath. The candy-coated comfort of familiarity, of twenty-odd years of nostalgic affection. For the first time, she begins to hope he might be capable of loving her despite the horrors. “I want to know the parts you kept hidden. I want to know how you came to be her. I want the truth.”

She has known of him, always. Since the beginning. He is her head of Parks, he is the thorn in her side, he is her soulmate.

She doesn’t like him. She loves him, down to her marrow.

He knows her better than anyone living, but he doesn’t really know her at all.

So she invites him in. She pours them each a whiskey. And she tells him her story.

He does not seek vengeance upon her many sins. He does not spit venom at her feet. He does not threaten to steal her son, or raze her town, or oust her from the Mayor’s office.

He listens.

And then he makes her an offer: “Regina, would you like to start again?”

.::.

They have no secrets and no lies. Happy Endings have no room for such things.

They still fight, they still bicker. He is still a thorn in her side at every Town Hall meeting, and he still protests vehemently when she proposes a soccer field take the place of that ever-contested plot of land.

He never tells a soul who she really is.

In the evenings, they sit on her deck and map the stars, and compare stories of gods and legends—the ones here and the ones there. One night, after sharing what she knows to be a very dubious retelling of the story of Sylar the Sphynx (he’s stuck in the sky until his riddle is solved, not, as Robin tells it, because a nearby constellation has caught his tail and won’t let go), he asks her, “Do you regret it? Casting the curse? All that you did?”

She ought to. Her story is a tragic one, worthy of constellations. She ought to be Regina the Mad Queen, a cluster of red fire burning in the sky, but she is not.

“No,” she tells him. “It brought me my son. And it brought me you. I could never regret that.”

Robin tilts his head against hers, points to the sky, and never asks again.

[darklink10000]

Song-lost woods trap remix

[livesets-dj-mixes-edm-podcasts]

Download Illenium - Phoenix Radio 084 for free now!

Artist: Illenium Show: Illenium – Phoenix Radio 084 Quality: 320 Kbps 48000 Khz Genre: Dubstep, Trap Source: RSS

Discover more Illenium live sets & radioshows HERE | Listen or download more Phoenix Radio episodes HERE

Illenium – Phoenix Radio 084 Tracklist

[1:37] Illenium & Nurko ft. Valerie Broussard – Sideways (Laidback Luke Remix) [12TONE] [5:17] Dabin & Nurko ft. Donovan Woods – When This Is Over [SEEKING BLUE] [8:02] ARMNHMR & Maazel ft. Zack Gray – Everybody Feels [DIM MAK] [10:44] William Black ft. HALIENE & Thomas Laurent – Only One I Need [LOWLY] [13:49] Jason Ross & Nevve – Wild Ones [OPHELIA] [17:04] CloudNone ft. Micah Martin – Flashlight [MONSTERCAT] [19:38] MitiS ft. Danni Carra – Without Me [OPHELIA] [23:36] Seven Lions & Trivecta & Blanke ft. RBBTS – Wild And Broken [OPHELIA] [27:09] Said The Sky & Olivver The Kid – We Know Who We Are [12TONE] [31:20] Fairlane & Grant – Hypnotize [PROXIMITY] [34:00] Skrillex & Noisia & Josh Pan & Dylan Brady – Supersonic (My Existence) [OWSLA/ATLANTIC] [36:16] Taylor Kade – Lonely [SELF RELEASED] [39:42] Taska Black & Violet Skies – When I Come Home [HEROIC] [42:35] Crystal Skies & Danny Olson ft. Jadelyn – Like Water [LOST IN DREAMS] [46:29] Tisoki ft. Charity Vance – Sensitive [MONSTERCAT/FUTURE CLASSIC] [49:30] Blanke & Dia Frampton – Spark [OPHELIA] [52:23] Ray Volpe – Feeling This Way [SUBSIDIA] [55:30] NGHTMRE ft. Alexandar Smash & Ghostlo – Speak Easy [ULTRA]

The podcast Illenium – Phoenix Radio is embedded on this page from an open RSS feed, audio is streamed/downloads are directly from the podcast owner server. All files, descriptions, artwork and other metadata from the RSS-feed is the property of the podcast owner and not affiliated with or endorsed by EDMliveset.com.

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[edmlivesets4u-blog]

Listen or download Illenium - Phoenix Radio 084 for free now!

Artist: Illenium Show: Illenium – Phoenix Radio 084 Quality: 320 Kbps 48000 Khz Genre: Dubstep, Trap Source: RSS

Discover more Illenium live sets & radioshows HERE | Listen or download more Phoenix Radio episodes HERE

Illenium – Phoenix Radio 084 Tracklist

[1:37] Illenium & Nurko ft. Valerie Broussard – Sideways (Laidback Luke Remix) [12TONE] [5:17] Dabin & Nurko ft. Donovan Woods – When This Is Over [SEEKING BLUE] [8:02] ARMNHMR & Maazel ft. Zack Gray – Everybody Feels [DIM MAK] [10:44] William Black ft. HALIENE & Thomas Laurent – Only One I Need [LOWLY] [13:49] Jason Ross & Nevve – Wild Ones [OPHELIA] [17:04] CloudNone ft. Micah Martin – Flashlight [MONSTERCAT] [19:38] MitiS ft. Danni Carra – Without Me [OPHELIA] [23:36] Seven Lions & Trivecta & Blanke ft. RBBTS – Wild And Broken [OPHELIA] [27:09] Said The Sky & Olivver The Kid – We Know Who We Are [12TONE] [31:20] Fairlane & Grant – Hypnotize [PROXIMITY] [34:00] Skrillex & Noisia & Josh Pan & Dylan Brady – Supersonic (My Existence) [OWSLA/ATLANTIC] [36:16] Taylor Kade – Lonely [SELF RELEASED] [39:42] Taska Black & Violet Skies – When I Come Home [HEROIC] [42:35] Crystal Skies & Danny Olson ft. Jadelyn – Like Water [LOST IN DREAMS] [46:29] Tisoki ft. Charity Vance – Sensitive [MONSTERCAT/FUTURE CLASSIC] [49:30] Blanke & Dia Frampton – Spark [OPHELIA] [52:23] Ray Volpe – Feeling This Way [SUBSIDIA] [55:30] NGHTMRE ft. Alexandar Smash & Ghostlo – Speak Easy [ULTRA]

The podcast Illenium – Phoenix Radio is embedded on this page from an open RSS feed, audio is streamed/downloads are directly from the podcast owner server. All files, descriptions, artwork and other metadata from the RSS-feed is the property of the podcast owner and not affiliated with or endorsed by EDMliveset.com.

Follow us on: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Reddit & VK

[gaymusicchart]

GAY MUSIC CHART – 2018 week 12

 Welcome to the Gay Music Chart, the LGBTQA related music videos TOP 50 actuality and most request.

Vote for your favourite LGBTQA related music videos by leaving a comment for this post on :

YOUTUBE (in the comment section of the video of the week) : https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCz7yfp-xq-b08tD6mAWwclA

BLOGGER : http://gaymusicchart.blogspot.fr

FACEBOOK : https://www.facebook.com/GayMusicChart/

TWITTER : https://twitter.com/GayMusicChart with #GayMusicChart  

TUMBLR : http://gaymusicchart.tumblr.com  

 Here is the recap for this week :

 OUT : Michele Bravi - Diamanti (LW: 14 / WO: 24 / PEAK: 04)

OUT : Leon Else - What I Won't Do (Lyric Video) (LW: 22 / WO: 38 / PEAK: 02)

OUT : VINCINT - Marrow (LW: 24 / WO: 3 / PEAK: 16)

OUT : Catarina Miranda - Para Sorrir Eu Não Preciso De Nada (live @ Festival da Canção 2018) (LW: 29 / WO: 1 / PEAK: 29)

OUT : P!nk - Whatever You Want (LW: 32 / WO: 1 / PEAK: 32)

OUT : Alfie Arcuri - If They Only Knew (LW: 34 / WO: 36 / PEAK: 01 (x7))

OUT : Baiana System e Titica feat Margareth Menezes - Capim Guiné (LW: 38 / WO: 1 / PEAK: 38)

OUT : Sameera Janakantha - Oba Mage Mathakaya Wela (ඔබ මගේ මතකය වෙලා) (LW: 41 / WO: 3 / PEAK: 41)

OUT : Hyphen Hyphen - Like Boys (LW: 42 / WO: 1 / PEAK: 42)

OUT : Marija Serifovic - Nije ljubav to (LW: 44 / WO: 1 / PEAK: 44)

OUT : Bronski Beat - Smalltown Boy (Arnaud Rebotini Remix) (LW: 45 / WO: 7 / PEAK: 15)

OUT : Teo Entertainment - Голоса в моей голове / Voices In My Head (audio) (LW: 46 / WO: 1 / PEAK: 46)

OUT : Matthew Wood - Out (LW: 48 / WO: 1 / PEAK: 48)

OUT : Jão - Imaturo (LW: 49 / WO: 2 / PEAK: 29)

OUT : serpentwithfeet - Bless ur Heart (LW: 50 / WO: 1 / PEAK: 50)

  01 (+ 25) : Years & Years - Sanctify (LW: 26 / WO: 2 / PEAK: 01)

UK - 2018

Years & Years singer Olly Alexander says the band’s new single Sanctify is about straight men who experiment with gay sex.

 02 (+ 1) : Janelle Monáe - Make Me Feel (LW: 03 / WO: 4 / PEAK: 02)

USA - 2018 / from the album "Dirty Computer"

 03 (- 1) : Troye Sivan - My My My! (LW: 02 / WO: 10 / PEAK: 01 (x3))

Australia - 2018

The first track of his upcoming album has topped at #3 at the Worldwide iTunes Song Chart. It's the eighth single of the Australian singer in a row to be #1 in our chart.

 04 (+ 6) : Francisco Victoria - Marinos (LW: 10 / WO: 12 / PEAK: 03)

Chile - 2017

This is the first single of the Chilean singer, produced by Alex Anwandter. A revelation.

 05 (- 4) : Kylie Minogue - Dancing (LW: 01 / WO: 8 / PEAK: 01 (x3))

Australia - 2018 / from the album "Golden"

 06 (+ 6) : Saara Aalto - Monsters (LW: 12 / WO: 6 / PEAK: 06)

Finland - 2018

This song will represent Finland at the Eurovision Song Contest 2018.

 07 (=) : Sufjan Stevens - Mystery of Love ("Call Me By Your Name" OST) (LW: 07 / WO: 19 / PEAK: 01 (x1))

USA - 2017 / from the album ("Call Me By Your Name" OST)

The song was nominated for the Oscar of Best Original Song at the Academy Awards 2018.

 08 (- 2) : Calum Scott - You Are The Reason (LW: 06 / WO: 17 / PEAK: 04)

UK - 2017

 09 (=) : Allie X feat. VÉRITÉ - Casanova (LW: 09 / WO: 12 / PEAK: 03)

Canada - 2017 / from the album "CollXtion II"

 10 (+ 5) : Eli Lieb - Next To You (LW: 15 / WO: 14 / PEAK: 02)

USA - 2017

 11 (- 03) : Holland (홀랜드) - Neverland (네버랜드) (LW: 08 / WO: 8 / PEAK: 08)

South Korea - 2018

This is the first South Korean music video showing a gay couple kissing in a romantic way.

 12 (- 7) : Trevor Moran - Sinner (LW: 04 / WO: 15 / PEAK: 01 (x2))

USA - 2017

 13 (- 8) : Virgin Suicide - Evil Eyes (LW: 05 / WO: 15 / PEAK: 05)

Denmark - 2017

This Danish music video is like a short movie, telling the struggles of a closeted gay teen taken by his father to a fathers-sons's camp.

 14 (NEW) : Nakhane - Interloper (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 14)

South Africa - 2018 / from the album "You Will Not Die"

We supports the South African singer and actor, who is threatened to death for portraying a gay character in the movie "Inxeba / The Wound", which has been banned for a while in South Africa.

 15 (+ 2) : Matt Palmer - Inevitably (LW: 17 / WO: 6 / PEAK: 15)

USA - 2018 / from the EP "Get Lost"

 16 (+ 2) : Kevin Chomat - Petite Fée (LW: 18 / WO: 2 / PEAK: 16)

France - 2018

The French singer has made a song to support Lana, a young girl who has a rare genetic disease called neurofibromatosis.

 17 (- 6) : La Prohibida - Baloncesto (LW: 11 / WO: 34 / PEAK: 03)

Spain / from the album "100K años de luz"

The drag queen joined Madrid’s Three Kings float, but traditionalists didn't like it.

 18 (+ 3) : morgxn - Translucent (LW: 21 / WO: 2 / PEAK: 18)

USA - 2018

 19 (NEW) : Courtney Barnett - Need A Little Time (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 19)

Australia - 2018 / from the album "Tell Me How You Really Feel"

 20 (NEW) : Les Funambules (Maximilien Philippe) - Pardon (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 20)

France - 2018 - from the album "Les Funambules"

This song is the confession of a man who's quitting his wife because he realised he was gay.

 21 (- 8) : Troye Sivan - The Good Side (Live on SNL) (LW: 13 / WO: 8 / PEAK: 13)

Australia - 2018

 22 (+ 3) : MNEK - Tongue (LW: 25 / WO: 3 / PEAK: 22)

UK - 2018

 23 (NEW) : Lauren Ruth Ward - Sideways (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 23)

USA - 2018 / from the album "Well, Hell"

 24 (NEW) : Bilal Hassani - Shadows (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 24)

France - 2018

 25 (NEW) : Bella Ćwir - Drogie Ciuchy (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 25)

Poland - 2018

 26 (- 10) : Ryan O'Shaughnessy - Together (LW: 16 / WO: 2 / PEAK: 16)

Ireland - 2018

This sweet ballad will represent Ireland at the Eurovision Song Contest 2018. The music video is so cute.

 27 (NEW) : Jinkx Monsoon - Just Me (The Gender Binary Blues) (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 27)

USA - 2018 / from the album "The Ginger Snapped"

 28 (- 1) : Patrick Wolf - The Days (fan video) (LW: 27 / WO: 8 / PEAK: 07)

UK - 2017 / from the album "God’s Own Country OST"

The multi-awarded movie was nominated in 2 categories at the BAFTA Awards 2017, including Best Outstanding British Film.

 29 (+ 14) : Chase Sansing - Begins With You (LW: 43 / WO: 3 / PEAK: 22)

USA - 2018

The country singer comes out with this pride anthem.

 30 (NEW) : VELO feat. Luisifer - Dancer (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 30)

USA - 2018 / from the album "Cruzin"

 31 (+ 4) : CRIMER - Cards (LW: 35 / WO: 2 / PEAK: 31)

Switzerland - 2018 / from the album "Leave Me Baby"

 32 (- 13) : djfriz feat. 마샬 (MRSHLL), 메건리 (Megan Lee) - Dive (English Version) (LW: 19 / WO: 2 / PEAK: 19)

South Korea - 2018

There is also a korean version of the song.

 33 (- 5) : Namuel - Poder (LW: 28 / WO: 4 / PEAK: 25)

Chile - 2018

 34 (- 14) : Brandi Carlile - The Joke (LW: 20 / WO: 4 / PEAK: 20)

USA - 2018 / from the album "By The Way, I Forgive You"

 35 (NEW) : Pussy Riot & Dave Sitek - Bad Apples (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 35)

Russia - 2018

 36 (- 13) : Michael Blume - Blunder (LW: 23 / WO: 2 / PEAK: 23)

USA - 2018

 37 (NEW) : Aluta Humbane - Nami Ngithanda Indoda (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 37)

South Africa - 2018

The title of this South African song means "I also love a man".

 38 (+ 1) : Bagarre - Danser seul (ne suffit pas) (LW: 39 / WO: 10 / PEAK: 10)

France - 2018 / from the album "Club 12345"

Several drag queens are featuring in the music video of this French Touch house music.

 39 (NEW) : Trixie Mattel - Break Your Heart (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 39)

USA - 2018 / from the album "One Stone"

 40 (NEW) : Troye Sivan - Strawberries & Cigarettes ("Love, Simon" OST) (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 40)

Australia - 2018 / from the album "Love, Simon" OST

 41 (NEW) : Boris Jelic - Freedom (Lyric Video) (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 41)

Sweden - 2018

 42 (+ 5) : Eddy de Pretto - Normal (LW: 47 / WO: 3 / PEAK: 19)

France - 2018 / from the album "CURE"

The French singer shows here how to respond to an homophobe.

 43 (NEW) : Samir & Viktor - Shuffla (live @ Melodifestivalen Finale 2018) (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 43)

Sweden - 2018

The song came fourth in the finale of Melodifestivalen, the Swedish national selection for the Eurovision Song Contest.

 44 (- 11) : Ricky Martin feat. Wisin, Yandel - Fiebre (LW: 33 / WO: 3 / PEAK: 32)

Puerto Rico (USA) / Spain - 2018

Ricky Martin was with Katy Perry one of the most successful LGBT artist on YouTube in 2017 due to the success of his singles "Vente Pa' Ca" and "La Mordidita" with 1,4 billion views on YouTube. Will he have the same success with his new single ?

 45 (- 14) : Calum Scott - What I Miss Most (1 Mic 1 Take/Live From Abbey Road Studios) (LW: 31 / WO: 2 / PEAK: 31)

UK - 2018 / from the album "Only Human"

 46 (NEW) : Todrick Hall - Ordinary Day (LW: - / WO: 1 / PEAK: 46)

USA - 2018

This music video takes place in a alternative world where the the population's majority is black, and where a white man walking in a neighborhood can be shoot just because he's white. An alternative way to talk about the Black Lives Matter movement.

 47 (- 10) : SAKIMA - Daddy (LW: 37 / WO: 14 / PEAK: 14)

UK - 2017

 48 (- 18) : Hayley Kiyoko - Curious (LW: 30 / WO: 10 / PEAK: 08)

USA - 2018 / from the album "Expectations"

In her new song, Hayley is wondering why the girl she's dating is dating also another guy in the same time. "Expectations" will be released on March 30, 2018.

 49 (- 9) : Peppermint and Cazwell - Blend (LW: 40 / WO: 3 / PEAK: 23)

USA - 2018 / from the EP "Blend"

The purpose of this song is to make a positive trans anthem.

 50 (- 14) : Openside - I Feel Nothing (LW: 36 / WO: 6 / PEAK: 11)

New Zealand - 2017  

Lead singer Possum Plows, who is gender non-binary, raises the transgender flag in this music video. In her new song, Hayley is wondering why the girl she's dating is dating also another guy in the same time. "Expectations" will be released on March 30, 2018.

   ALSO NEW THIS WEEK

 Taylor Swift - Delicate

USA - 2018 / from the album "Reputation"

The music video faetures gay porn performaer Kevin Falk.

 Jiggly Caliente feat. Sharon Needles - I Don't Give A Fuck

USA - 2018 / from the album "T.H.O.T. Process"

 Mc Júnyork - Ta Ta Ta

Brazil - 2018

 Candy Ken - Funeral

Austria - 2018 / from the EP "Candy Trap"

 Pete Parkkonen - Myyty (Lyric video)

Finland - 2018

 Hayley Kiyoko - Let It Be [Official Audio]

USA - 2018 / from the album "Expectations"

 Lycinaïs Jean - Parfait Tourment (Version radio Edit)

France - 2018 / from the album "Lycinaïs Jean"

 Fletcher - I Believe You (Audio)

USA - 2018

Portion of proceeds donated to Time's Up for Women's History Month

 Troye Sivan "My My My!" | GIRL VERSION with Milk

USA - 2018

 REIKA by Daniel Robinson / Björk - Jóga (Howie B Main Mix)

USA - 2018

  See you next week and don’t forget to vote for your best LGBTQA music videos ! Here are the rules :

1 ) You can vote for many videos as you want under the videos on YouTube in the comment section. It could be recent or past music videos, which must provide at least one among the following conditions:

- the music video has LGBTQA related content, in the lyrics or the music video

- the artist is LGBTQA, an LGBTQA icon or eventually ally

- LGBTQA medias talked about it.

2 ) You can’t vote more than 3 songs of a same artist per week.

3 ) In case of an artist who receive votes mostly by a fan base, we will count only one song, in a limited time of 10 weeks of presence in the top.

4 ) You can vote with only one account.

5 ) If you make 5 votes or less, your first vote will represent 5 points, your second vote 4 points, etc… until your last vote and following 1 point. If you make 6 to 10 votes, your first vote will represent 10 points, your second vote 9 points, etc… If you make more than 10 votes, your first vote will represent 20 points, your second vote 19 points, etc…

6 ) People who make 1 to 5 votes form the amateur ranking, those who make 6 to 10 votes form the fan ranking, those who make more than 10 votes form the expert ranking. We form the jury ranking. And we count now the ranking of minutes of views of our weekly playlist of the previous week. The Gay Music Chart is the addition of the five charts. In case of equality, the number of votes and the dates of votes will count.

7 ) The votes will close on Thursday, 8 PM, European time.