#i could feel myself loosing all of my inspiration and decided to do something before it was too late

[smorhe]

Tried a different coloring with Foo Fighters to prevent me from getting art block

[finelinevogue]

i love you more than dino nuggets

summary - the night before the final show

pairing : fiancé!harry x reader

word count : +2.3k

a/n : originally was going to include the show but i have another idea for that so i’m off to write that now !!! the title will make sense as you read😭😭

It was the final night before the last love on tour show and you’d already cried three times.

Once on the plane over to Italy. Once on visiting the stage being set up today at the stadium. And once, now, crying because of how overwhelmed you feel.

You were busy getting ready in your shared bedroom, whilst Harry entertained the rest of your friends and family downstairs.

The house Harry owned in Italy, that was soon to become yours too in a week, was a massive Roman inspired villa. The orange stone that the building was made of created a cool villa to live in and with over 12 bedrooms it was the biggest house Harry owned.

All of Harry’s family and friends were staying over here for the duration of the last love on tour show, and then also for your wedding next week.

Whilst some wondered why Harry would end the love on tour shows in Italy, when nothing would ever beat the homeliness feeling of Wembley, it was all because you were getting married here a week Saturday.

How could you not? The perfect background for a summers wedding, in yours and Harry’s favourite country.

“Babe?” Harry knocked on the door and enters before you answer.

“Yeah?” You sniffled, wiping your fingers under your eyes to clear the mascara marks.

“Wha— What’s with the tears, baby?” He asked with a laugh.

“I don’t even know!” You laughed, starting to cry all over again.

“Is it ‘cause the the cake decorator cancelled on us again? ‘Cause, babe, I promise you that I will bake the bloody thing myself.”

Harry came and sat next to you on the bed, handing you a handkerchief he pulled out of his blazer pocket.

Tonight was a big celebration for him and so you’d decided to all get dressed up and have one final supper all together. Harry was in a gorgeous black slate suit, with a basic white t-shirt underneath. You matched him with a simple black halter-dress.

“Turns out these suit tissues are useful for something.”

“Thank you.” You said, dabbing underneath your eyes.

“You’re going to make me cry before the night is up, I just know it.” He nudged you with his shoulder, causing you to fall into him.

You rested your head on his shoulder and let your hands fall into his lap. His arm came around your body and hugged you close, kissing the side of your head as he inhaled your coconut shampoo.

You sat in silence for a few moments, Harry’s fingers coming to play with yours. Twirling around each other until they find home in an interlocking movement.

“Can’t believe this is all real.” You said first.

“Babe, you’re only saying that because we watched The Truman Show the other day.” Harry chuckled.

“Don’t say things like that.” You playfully hit him, but Harry caught your hand before you can go for a second playful punch. “Y’know that my worst fear is this all not being real.” You mumbled.

Harry nodded his head.

“Then let me show you just how real this is.”

Harry pushed you to lay your back down on the bed, your legs still touching the floor from where you sat on the edge of the bed. Harry moved to hover over you and took your intertwined hands with him, moving them to link above your head.

A loose strand of hair tickled your forehead and Harry blew it away with a soft blow, making you smile.

“You’re so pretty.” Harry stopped to pause and just take you all in.

“I thought you were supposed to be showing me how we are real.” You sarcastically told him. The glint in his eyes told you just how cheeky he thought you were.

Harry didn’t waste another moment before kissing you. Your lips met his instantly and just like you’d been doing for the past five years, you kissed and kissed and kissed. You both knew when to bite or slow down and speed up. You were so in tune with each other.

When you started to pant slightly out of breath, Harry slowed down and moved his lips away from yours just a fraction.

“Breathe, baby.” He whispered against your lips.

“Mhm.” You tried to inhale some air.

“Was that real enough for you?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe we should try a—”

Harry’s lips pressed back against yours and he let go of your hands, because he knew you were itching to touch him.

Your hands went straight to his cheeks, pulling him in to guide his lips against yours, whilst his own hands remained gripped to the bed sheets as he held his weight up. You kissed him until both your lips were red and swollen.

A knock on the door is what interrupted you both.

“Fuck.” Harry mumbled, stuffing his head into your neck to hide from everyone else. Now that he’d had a moment with you, he didn’t want anyone else.

“H? Y/N?” The sound of Anne came through the other side of the door. “I know you two love each other, but you have people downstairs waiting for you.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle that you’d been caught making out by Harry’s mum. You felt like a teenager all over again.

“It’s not funny.” Harry pinched your sides playfully.

“Did y’hear me?” Anne asked.

“Yes muumm!” Harry replied, pretending like he was annoyed when in reality he could never be anything but kind to his mum.

“Be down in five, otherwise I’m coming in next time.”

Harry grunted and dropped his head back into your neck, softly kissing and biting at the skin he could find exposed down there.

“Harry stop.” You tried to push him off, laughing, but he was too heavy and you were too weak to fight him off. “I’m not having your mum come back.”

“It’s an empty threat, babe.” Harry continued to kiss your neck and it was heading straight for a hickey.

“Umm… Do you remember Christmas of 2020?”

Harry’s head shot up at that, smirking as he looked down at you.

“Be more specific.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed because he knew exactly what you were talking about, but was just too much of a tease and wanted to hear you say it.

“Your mum thought I was in pain, but it turned out I was just receiving head from her son. So thanks for that. It’s a memory that will haunt me forever.”

“What? Me eating you out?” Harry looked even more cheeky. “Well, I guess we’ll have to fix that.”

His hands shifted underneath your body as he moved down until he was knelt on the floor in front of your legs. You kicked him with your foot before he could lift your dress though.

“Harry Styles!” You scoffed. “Your entire family is downstairs. Stop it.”

You were well aware that you sounded like a teacher, or a scolding mother, but sometimes it was the only way to get him to stop his adolescent behaviour.

“You’re no fun.” Harry groaned and laid on the floor like you’d just shot him through the heart with an arrow.

“Don’t marry me then.” You said jokingly.

You shook your head and walked towards the door, heels clicking on the marble floor as you went. You brushed your dress down from creases.

You stopped in front of a full length mirror to check yourself out before you rejoined everyone downstairs. Everything was still set in place, despite the copious amounts of crying.

Harry came up behind you, having felt him before actually seeing him through the mirror.

He wrapped his arms underneath your armpits and squeezed you in a hug from behind. You tilted your head to one side of his body so he could plant a soft kiss on the skin you’d left exposed.

“I love you. And I can’t wait to marry you.” He kissed you again. “For you to be mine. Officially.”

“And you’ll be mine.” You turned your head and looked him in his eyes. They were so full of love, sparkling from the excitement you gave him.

“I’ve always been yours.”

His lips met yours once last time before you really did have to go downstairs.

Harry held your hand as you walked down the stairs together, occasionally checking that you were alright and that your heels weren’t going to make you fall.

Once you were down them, Harry immediately brought you into his side and had his arm around your waist. You copied his motion and followed him into the outdoor seating area.

Lots of long tables had been set up on the large patio for people to sit at, with an extra long table that was arranged with food and drinks for everyone here and an extra hundred people.

There was meats, fish, pasta, pizza and even veggie dinosaur nuggets that Harry had shipped from England just for you. For drinks there was everything from water to very expensive wine. Wine that come from the vineyards Harry has invested in around this area.

Everyone cheered when Harry and you finally turned up, many people already sitting down and tucking into their food and some people nursing glasses of fizz as they chatted.

The glow of the moon and the strings of hundreds of fairy lights made the atmosphere that little bit more special. There was some light piano music playing in the background and everything felt at peace with the world.

“I’m just going to go say to hi to a couple of people. Are you okay?” Harry asked you.

“‘Course. I’m starving and starting to get hangry.”

“Well nobody wants to see a hangry Y/N. Go on!” Harry shooed you along and you stuck up your middle finger at him. He watched you with admiration as you wandered off.

You made it to the buffet selection and happily see your dinosaur nuggets waiting for you. They even have a little sign on them that says ‘property of the lead singers fiance. don’t touch’ in Harry’s handwriting. Every minute he’s got spare he’s reminding people that you are soon to be forever each others.

You sit at a table with some of Harry’s relatives, chatting with them for a bit, before moving down the table to speak to your family.

You finished off your dinosaur nuggets and excuse yourself, wandering back inside the house and towards the freezer.

Opening it, you are amazed to find another three boxes of nuggets and you instantly fall a little bit more in love with Harry because of the simple action.

Your best friend, Ruby, meets you in the kitchen, as you’re turning on the oven to make more.

“Someone has been looking beautiful tonight.” She teased you, handing you over what must be your fourth glass of prosecco of the night.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” You laughed.

“Don’t be daft. No one is glowing more than you are tonight.”

“Not even H?” You challenged.

“I mean, yeah. But he’s only happy ‘cause you are.”

You blushed at her comment and take a sip of your drink. After the nuggets are in the oven, you sit on top of the granite kitchen island. Ruby clambered on after you, falling straight onto her back with how tipsy she is.

You laughed so hard that you ended up falling back too. Luckily the kitchen island is that big that you remain on it.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married next week.” You best friend says.

“Why does everyone keep focusing on that and not the final show tomorrow?” You wondered.

“Maybe because your wedding day is slightly more important than the end of Love On Tour.”

“I don’t think I see it that way.” You hummed at your own realisation. “They’re equal in importance. Tomorrow night is the biggest night of Harry’s career and it means a lot to me, therefore meaning a lot to me.”

“Girl, don’t tell me you’ve got cold feet.”

“No!” You blurted out, more sure of that fact than anything. “Never. I love Harry and I can’t wait for married life together.”

“But…?”

“But I think tomorrow night will be as equally as important to him and so it will be to me too.” You answered truthfully.

“Ugh. When did you get so sappy?” Your best friend teased you.

“Harry brings it out of me.” You gushed over your fiancé.

“You two are so sickeningly in love.”

“Don’t worry. Harry will give me my medicine later.” You attempted a bad joke.

“Okayyy….” Brad said as entered the room with a beer in hand. He’s been following your best friend everywhere she’s gone recently and you’re wondering whether he’s harbouring a little crush.

Both you and Ruby burst out laughing, you clutching onto your stomach from laughing so hard. Everything is so much funnier laying down too.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Harry asked, smiling when he saw you laughing. He walked up Brad and slung his arm around his shoulder as they watched on.

“Mate I don’t even know. I don’t think I want to know.” Brad answered.

“Harry? Do you love Y/N?” Ruby asked.

“Yes.” Harry answered quickly.

“Y/N? Do you love Harry?”

“I doo!!” You shouted, laughing afterwards.

“They love each other! You’re now both wifed up.” Ruby announced.

“What?” You laughed. “Harry can’t be my wife.” You giggled.

“Oh yeah.” Ruby laughed and it set both of you off laughing again.

Harry shook his head at you both and nodded for Brad to handle Ruby whilst he handled you. Brad made sure Ruby didn’t fall over when he stood her up, announcing he was going to take her somewhere to lay down for a bit to calm down.

You felt Harry’s hands on yours as he pulled you to sit up.

Once you sat up you warmly smiled at him, cupping his cheek and leaning your forehead onto his.

“Hey, baby. Y’doing okay?” Harry asked and smiled at you.

“Mhm.”

“Your dino nuggets are ready if you want them.”

“Yes please.”

“Okay. Stay here for me.”

Harry arranged them on a plate and added some sweet chilli sauce on the side for you. He then came back over to you and stood between your legs.

He dipped a nugget in some sauce and held it up to your mouth. He blew on it to cool it down, only because he’d seen chefs on the TV do it, and waited for you to take a bite.

You hummed in delight as you bit into it. “Mm mm.”

“Nice?” Harry asked, wiping your mouth of crumbs with a nearby napkin.

“Thank you.” You nodded. “I’m excited for a life full of you and dino nuggets, Harry.”

“Do you love me more than dino nuggets?” He offered you another bite.

“Love you more than anyone or anything.” You finished chewing before speaking. “But veggie dino nuggets are the second love of my life.”

“As long as I’m the first.” He kissed your forehead.

Both of you were in the kitchen for another twenty minutes, talking about anything and nothing whilst Harry fed you. A few people had walked in, but had left you just as quickly to enjoy this quiet time together.

A couple of people had snapped photos of you too, which you would be thankful for later.

At the end of the night, after there was a mass of friends and family cleaning up and washing dishes, everyone retreated to bed.

Harry had been saying his rounds of good night before he had joined you in bed.

It was past midnight and you wanted time to slow down. It was unfair that the last show of love on tour has crept up so soon. How dare it.

You understood Harry needed some time to himself now though and start building more of a life outside of touring for himself. For starters, marrying you.

Harry sighed as he got into bed, peeling back the covers and immediately wiggling is way across the bed, over to your side, and spooning you from behind.

He kissed the back of your neck a couple of times, just because he could, as you wiggled in his hold to get comfortable again.

“Tonight was fun.” You said softly, speaking into the darkness and knowing it was only Harry who could hear you.

“It was. Tomorrow night will be even more fun.”

“It’ll be bittersweet.”

“Maybe.” His hands held yours. “But I’m getting tired, baby, and I just want a bit of rest now.”

“I know, bub. I’ll just miss it, is all.”

“You’ll always still have me, though. I’m not going anywhere.”

You turned around in his hold, facing him and resting your faces so close that your noses were touching.

“I’m here to stay too. Forever yours when that ring gets put on me next week, baby.” You tell him, smiling a little too much at that comment.

“I… I think I’m going to play something for you tomorrow. Something i’ve never done before.” He sounded nervous telling you.

“Just for me?”

“Everything’s always for you. This piece will especially be.”

“Can’t wait.” You leaned in and pecked his lips so he could taste your excitement. “You’re going to be amazing.”

“I’ll be sad it’s over, but more than ready to step off the stage and down the aisle instead. That’ll be the best day of my life.”

[mcnuggyy]

✨ Rainbow Factory TTRPG! ✨

HIII!!!! As promised here is my silly little reskin of KOB (kids on bikes/brooms)!!! :o] <3

EDIT: This post got a bit long eek!! sorry!! if you just wanna see the silly stuff I did then just check out the links! You can ignore all the other text on this post jajaja!

Mini Rule Book  ( for GMs & Players!)

PDF Version!  

Here is the document I gave all my players beforehand! This is a simplification of all the KOB rules, character creation process, and the worldbuilding for Unicopia! Please feel free to use as much or as little of it as you like for your game! It goes step by step through the character creation process and has a wide variety of examples and references. I try to be as thorough as possible but ofc I may have missed something! Please feel free to make up what i miss or shoot me a message if you're really curious jaja!

Here is a jpg of the Player Character Sheet of needed! :o]

RFTTRPG: NPC Stats & BG Characters! (For GMs!)

This is what I used while GMing! Feel free to use these as you like! I tried to keep it simple and loose for the big characters like Hev and Trixie! And even simpler for the background characters. I didn't give the BG chars any stats as I knew I wouldn't need them for the one-shot I was running but please feel free to make your own BG chars, and stats, and all of that good stuff!

I also have a rough RF building chart for exploration! Our campaign was set inside the Rainbow Factory so it felt like a good idea to make this for my players! However please feel free to set your one-shot anywhere else in Unicopia! I hope to make a map of  the districts one day to add to the mini rule book later on! :o] You can also set it at another Happiness Factory such as the Tear Factory or Heart Factory! You could even have your unicorns visit Earth! The world is your oysta! ♡ 

Overall I tried to keep everything super simple and clear for both myself and my friends! I imagine other Factories in smaller districts would be much smaller than this but this is a rough idea of what I think most of them would sort of be like!

RFFTTRPG: One-shot Ideas & More! (For GM's)

I love love loved using the KOB system and reskinning it for my silly little world! and I love when a TTRPG gives you nice sort of rules to follow while still being super free and open in other aspects! It made it  easy for me to just come up with a simple problem/plot for my players! However I know coming up with something from scratch is also super intimidating and overwhelming! So here is the idea I did, along with some others I've thought of for fun! (and might even do in future games jejeje)

Kid on the Run!  This is super Monsters Inc inspired. Have the party over at a Factory for any reason you choose. I chose a tour/ted talk hosted by the lovely Trixie! It can also be a company party, or breaking and entering, or they already work there, etc.! Have one of the portals go haywire allowing a child to enter Unicopia! It's now up to the party to not only capture the child but return them back home safe and sound to the human world! All while keeping the child secret from the rest of unicornkind! RF: Happiness Special Forces The Counsel has decided to create a special task team in charge of going down to earth! Go undercover and stop those who cause great risk to Unicornkind! This could be stopping a huge evil corporation that is creating an excess amount of unhappiness, reducing the magic of Unicopia. Or having to go in and save multiple children in danger such as a field trip gone wrong! Or making an adult human who remembered their childhood unicorn forget about them again before things get dicey! Your players will have to keep their existence as unicorns a secret, all while saving their world, and exploring Earth as characters who may be unfamiliar with humans and their ways! Unicorn Hunters & the End of Unicopia What if unicorns biggest threat finally found out where they had been hiding all this time? and not just knew but had access to a portal? It's up to the players to stop them at all costs and save their world.  A high stakes adventure full of lore, magic, and potential unexpected allies!  The Daily Life of a Field Op/Happy Tech This is more of a slice of life concept! This would work well for smaller parties of 1-4 Players! Have your Players form teams and deal with the daily troubles a helping a kid/teen/pre-teen  as a Field op or Happy Tech! (You could even have one of your Players play one of the kids themselves!) While still balancing their social lives, self needs, etc.! A look inside what it's like for Unicopias most essential workers, their interpersonal dramas, relationships, etc. Great for those who love character centric collaboritive storytelling!

ANYWAYS!!! Sorry for the ridiculously long post </3 I just wanted to cover all my bases in case someone decides they wanna play this reskin!! If you do end up playing pleaseee let me know eeek!! very very exciting!!! <3 regardless i hope you have fun looking at all this silly stuff I did to make my friends smile and laugh :o]

You can check out our one-shot over on my Patreon yahoo!

[whatgaviiformes]

i'm absolutely windswept

I started Thunderteers in May of 2019. I remember very distinctly being out to dinner with Hubs, coordinating the AU concept almost entirely for a long, epic first story. We were at a Chili's and I had my usual indecisive platter of appetizers as my meal. As of today there's only been 3 chapters of what mapped out that day. Some of it made it to paper. I've never been great at those long epics - I love reading them, but my writing brain is most solid with the 1K-6K word length.

So I started building the world with fic. I wrote about Virgil playing the violin, and how he made music. I explored Gordon's accident, and what it could've happened in place of a hydrofoil. I reached for Military!Bros instead of my usual FishTank, and explored the truth behind legends. I forced myself to make and break OCs, spent way too much time researching when songs were created, recipes of the time, if certain animals were classified the same way, and what name a city may have had in 1774.

Other things I decided not to research at all.

Above all that, before I posted a new story or fic, I asked myself if the imagery was there, and was it something I was proud of? Because I knew - the only way I could get others to set sail with me, was to make sure I was taking you on the journey. Not if it was historically accurate, but does this feel like our boys, and are they interacting with the environment in a way that feels like it would still be them? Is it possible to still see Gordon? Still see Scott?

That was my first AU.

Naturally, in asking myself this, I've had different images in my head all this time, and I was lucky enough this month to have the chance to ask the amazing @chenria to bring one of them to life for me. You can find the post below:

Sailor Gordon by Chenria.

Go like it, reblog it, send her support, consider joining her patreon if you can. She knocked it out of the park, and in so doing - inspired me along the way.

If you decide to read Thunderteers, just know - it's not always beautiful.

But this one - it's all love and heart. I've written the snippet for Windswept as a thank you to chenria's amazing work, to everyone who puts up with my reblogging posts for the age of sail (#ships ships ships) or who tag me in things to see, or have Wellerman living rent free in their heads and let me play along. Thanks to those that have read the story, maybe cried along, or sent me words of encouragement.

Thank you for letting me experiment with language and story, and sometimes - when I get really lucky- for the words I've written to matter to you.

*****

Windswept (~500 words)

As far as clouds go, Gordon is among the strangest. The wind tugs at his clothing, hanging loose and informally on his silhouette, and at his hair where he stands aloft amidst the sails. The seabirds close to shore weave their dance between the ropes above, circling him curiously. Even though his form is strange to them, he’s not unwelcome in their home in the air. If anything, he’s just a part of the flying clouds that make up the rigging of their ship.

The gulls’ calls sound like laughter, and he smiles with them. The birds will accompany the ship for a time, darting towards the quick meal at the bow where the front of the ship often disturbs the sea life below. If the voyage is to be a lucky one, they’ll grace the wood of the ship with a gift or two that’ll be left to wash away only with the next rain.

Gordon can feel the sway of the ship stronger from above; though with the Thunderbird still anchored close to shore, the waves are gentle as they lap against her firm hull. The movement is a tease for the voyage ahead, as Gordon has always found himself more comfortable in their journeys out to sea than he’s ever felt in his tentative steps on land. The ship has watched him grow and come of age, from awkward limbs racing up the rigging, to strong shoulders heaving her lines and helming her wheel. She’s given him the freedom to roam, to explore lands and seas unknown, and even with the thrill of adventure, Gordon feels most safe in the comfort of her embrace. If that isn’t a home, he doesn’t know what else is.

He knows her in the early morn - the way the sunrise paints cotton and how the mist tingles at the fuzz on his arms at the start of his shift. He knows the echo of their shanties within her oak beams, and the squeak of her joy when the creatures of the sea ride along with her bow waves upon them really catching the wind and when the tang of citrus remains on his tongue from breaking fast.

He knows her in the rain, the smell of wood and cotton when burdened with wet from above as well as below, the crackle of lightning in its brief and staggered illumination of her flags. He knows her in the cold, when the puff of his breath is visible and the wind cuts into his skin. Among whales, massive and elegant as they groan their song into her hull.

He knows her in the evening – Virgil and John’s cooking and their different nuances for flavor and spice, the vibrato of Virgil’s violin paired with the warm timbre of the Scott’s cello pulsing along her foundations. The way she creaks below Alan’s eager footsteps.  He knows the soft glow around flame-lit lanterns in the darkest of night and the hush of melodies uttered in multiple languages up towards twinkling stars. The way his hammock rocks him to sleep with her movement.

He knows her in both fair winds and motionless skies, in the brightest of sunlit days and the most cloud-covered of nights. Through doldrums, archipelagos, and the far reaches of the seas, and along coastlines, he knows her.  

And his soul trembles just as she does, her unfurled sails shuddering in anticipation of catching the wind.

TBC..?

[bardkin]

being a ridden dragon & not yet knowing what that entails

inspired by @who-is-page's post here! i decided fuck it !! i wanna write (more) about the draconic aspects of myself, timidness be damned.

as a quick preface, i am a psychological 'kin! i hold loose beliefs in multiverse & a form of reincarnation, but i don't know for sure if / don't think those things apply to me specifically.

o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

i've known i'm a dragon for a while, now. i go somewhat in-depth about it here in this entry about adopting/trying out the term folcintera for myself, but i didn't really touch on one of the newer revelations i had about it:

i'm the dragon in a rider-dragon pair.

as for how i know this, it just feels Correct. (far as i'm aware,) i don't have any past or concurrent life memories, or know who/what my rider is or was. this is a noema that i cannot explain further, as of yet. I Just Know this aspect is fact.

i mentioned [in my linked entry] that my first up close exposure to dragons was the Eragon series, which is what cemented my idea of what "dragon" was to me. ever since that series, i've been aggressively hyperfixated on dragon-rider stories; the kind of hyperfixation that waxes and wanes, but when it hits, it Hits like a Truck.

i don't think i'm from any one specific source, such as How to Train Your Dragon, Dragonriders of Pern, or Eragon. none of those really feel like places i've lived or belonged in. my specific brand of dragonity is wildly different from any dragons you'd see in the listed settings/stories, so i am not any dragon you'll see in those stories — but i also am.

moreso, i feel a connection to the dynamic between rider and dragon; the trappings don't truly matter, in the end. i am the archetypal dragon-with-a-rider, and see myself in almost any dragon-rider setting. i am a Ridden Dragon, and that will mean something different to everyone who interacts with dragon-rider lore — including myself. i am both folcinteric and an archetrope, in this regard.

before i awakened, and thought about dragon-rider stories, i thought i was simply wanting to live in a world where i could share a bond like that & go on adventures... and while that's still true, since i'm an escapist storyteller, there's a key difference between then and now.

i thought i had to relate to and imagine myself as the rider — and that never felt completely right.

now that i'm aware of and better exploring my draconic side, this aspect has come to light. and i have No idea what it could mean for me.

as stated, i don't know who my rider was/is or could be. i don't know what our dynamic was like, if our bond is of magical origin or through mutual trust. though, that might have something to do with me being archetypal, here. my rider could be anyone; our bond origin could be of any type, so long as it serves the purpose of the archetype.

dragon riding means different things to different people. sometimes it's about taming a wild beast, akin to horseback riding. other times it's a magical bond. and other times still, it's about trust and friendship.

i still don't know what my personal mythos is, or if i have one at all. maybe it is just that dynamic, nebulous and without a tether. or maybe it's just not uncovered quite yet.

i don't know how common being a ridden dragon is, be it in fictherian/fictionkin dragon spaces, or more general dragonkind spaces, because i haven't seen it talked about much. possibly because i'm just not looking in the right places, but, *shrug*!

i have no idea if this post will inspire any other dragons with riders (or maybe even dragon riders!) to write about their experiences. but, never know unless i post, so ;]

thanks for reading!

[storyunrelated]

Bad Dreams - Part Three

I saw a man. A man perhaps a little older than Rose and myself, and clearly not in a good way. 

A man who had, at some point, decided to have only a loose relationship with eating and with hygiene and who, as a result, had got both angular and pungent. Greasy in places, dark under the eyes and pale just about everywhere. He did not inspire confidence.

Sorry to judge by appearances, but you can tell quite a bit about someone from these things sometimes and context is important - the scrawny, pale man in the dark house with newspaper on the windows makes the mind go certain places.

All of the above was also elevated to new heights by the final detail of the man being shirtless, but being shirtless in such a fashion that suggested it was more because he’d entirely forgotten about putting shirts on, rather than by having made an active choice to be shirtless.

Top to bottom the immediate, overwhelming impression was of someone who’d become so focused on something other than themselves they’d rather let it slip from their minds that they were there in the first place.

Not a great start. Oh well.

“Evening,” I said, giving a wave with one hand and putting the other hand behind my back. The other hand was the one holding the crowbar. Best to try and make as good a first impression as possible, being an intruder in the man’s house notwithstanding. 

The man did not move a muscle. He then blinked, which counted as moving a muscle in my book.

“Who are you?” He asked. Surprisingly restrained given the circumstances.

I could have answered this, but instead I chose not to.

“Terribly sorry, we were expecting to find a witch,” I said instead.

“I am a witch,” the man said, maybe a touch testily, as though this was something that he ran up against a lot. Though maybe it was also because we were in his house. Maybe a bit of both.

I looked him over, tip to toe.

“...where’s your hat?” I asked.

“We don’t have to wear a hat,” he said and this time he was definitely testy and it was definitely about the witch thing.

I looked Rose over, tip to toe. Particularly the tip, where the hat was. Where the hat almost always was. In fact, no ‘almost’ about it - where the hat always was. Not a day had passed since she’d got the thing when she’d been without it. I thought those had been the rules.

“I like my hat…” she mumbled.

The man cleared his throat to get attention back on him.

“My next question - before I call the police - is going to be why are you in my house?” He asked. 

You’d think he’d sound less calm, being confronted by two housebreakers. I certainly wouldn’t be so cool and I was one of the housebreakers. Right then I was mostly running on nerves and gut impulse, my brain clinging on for dear life and only able to react after I’d said anything.

Maybe he got a lot of this sort of thing?

“We’re here about the dream skimmer you got sticking out the chimney,” I said, pointing upward, in case there was any confusion about where the chimney was.

He went very quiet for a moment. I think I heard him swallow.

“Ah,” he said, at length.

He looked like a man who knew he’d been caught out. Because he was a man who had been caught out. 

“Still feel like calling the police?” I asked.

“No, ideally.”

“Would that be an admission of guilt?” I asked. He looked at me like I was an idiot.

“That would suggest I have anything to be guilty of in the first place, which I reject. I’d just rather not get any more people involved and stomping about the place,” he said.

“Naturally. But since we’re already here and stomping about the place you’ll humour us?” I asked.

“If that is what it takes for you to go away,” he said through gritted teeth.

“How very obliging of you. How is the dream skimming going, just to ask? Well? Skimmer doing what it’s meant to be doing? Skimming?”

I could tell my breezy attitude towards what he plainly considered his hard work had got under his skin almost immediately, as much as he might have tried to hide it. Him and Rose too - witches were a touchy lot when it came to their witchy-business, weren’t they? Presumably it’s important to them.

Fair play, I guess. Must be galling to pour work into something and then have someone like me come in and be a smartarse about it. Would I like it if someone broke into my house and started undermining my confidence? Probably not.

“It is performing a little over what I expected,” he said, coolly.

“Delightful. Show me.”

His mouth worked a little. Whatever he’d expected it hadn’t been that.

Why else would I be here?

“I don’t think you’ll be able to appreciate the mechanism, especially given that you are not a witch and wouldn’t even be able to perceive half of the work that’s gone into it. You wouldn’t understand it. You can’t,” he said.

I didn’t think I was missing much, honestly.

“Humour me,” I said, pulling my crowbar hand from behind me and proceeding to stare him down.

Normally I’m not very good at staring anyone down and it’s not something I have a lot of call to do, but this was a special occasion and so I really poured myself into it, really meant it. I imagine that I was holding a crowbar helped a bit as he folded pretty quickly, all things considered, breaking eye contact and seeming to collapse in on himself a little bit, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Fine, fine…” He said turning around and gesturing for us to follow.

The very picture of sullen, he was.

“Come on,” I said to Rose, who squeaked.

“Really?!” She hissed.

“If all else fails I’ll crowbar our way out,” I said.

“That is not reassuring!”

She still followed, however unreassured she was, and we went up the stairs after the man. Cautiously, admittedly. I’m relaxed but I’m not an idiot. Hence the crowbar.

Downstairs had been house-like. In need of a clean, but house-like. Upstairs had been mauled. Doors were removed, plaster was exposed, holes had been knocked through walls, tubes and cables and wires ran everywhere and while I was getting nothing the wince on Rose’s face suggested a lot of magical jiggery-pokery going on.

The man, still sullen and now also mixed with open annoyance at us lollygagging, was stood waiting for us by an open doorframe.

“In here,” he said.

“After you,” I said again, giving him the nod. He glared but went in, and we followed again.

Was this going how I expected it would go? Not really. But it seems to be going well enough.

I think. I have no precedent for this sort of thing. Feels like an adventure though. I think.

We entered into what was one room that had plainly been two rooms before he’d had his way with them. He’d apparently knocked through a wall to link the two together. Not properly, I should point out. Bits of the wall remained here and there and the whole affair was held up by bits of wood the structural capacity of which I did have much confidence in. Professional it was not.

But that wasn’t the main thing, nor was that really the thing that I was paying attention to. The reason why he’d mangled the rooms together was on account of the great, sprawling, tinkling, hissing, gurgling thing that had been built and which took up most of the available space.

The dream sifter, presumably. Really didn’t look like much this close. Look like a still had had a run in with a milk churn and then left in the rain for a day or two. It was leaking in more than one place. Leaking what though was harder to say. Something.

“Very nice. Should it be leaking?” I asked, pointing to the more prominent leak. He looked, hissed, and swept up a roll of gaffer tape and quickly and liberally applied it. From the looks of the thing this was his standard response. There was a lot of tape, not to mention discarded rolls piled up in the corners.

Probably should have just made it less leaky, really. He’d save money on tape.

“Right. You’ve seen it now. Go,” he said, tossing the tape aside and glaring some more. He wasn’t getting out of this that easy.

“Hold on, hold on,” I said. “Explain this thing to me. What does it actually do?”

“You really wouldn’t understand,” the man said.

“Well, you can try. And if nothing else I’m sure Rose would appreciate hearing it. Right?” I asked, looking over to her. She was really coasting on this whole thing so far and leaving most of it to me but, in fairness, this whole thing had been my idea so I could hardly blame her.

“Um. Sure,” Rose said. She was squinting. The man was too, I noticed. Presumably the room was swimming in witchy nonsense that I was entirely unaware of, being so mundane and inert and all.

I looked back to the man and he stared at me in open, exasperated disbelief for a moment before his shoulders slumped.

“Fine. But will you then please leave me alone?”

This was another question I chose not to answer. Just gave him a winning smile instead.

He tried to explain it and I tried to follow his explanation, I really did, but I am as has been said magically inert and on top of that I’m also not that bright, so he got about three words in before I lost the thread completely.

Broadly speaking, I understood what he said something like this:

The bulk of the sifter sat in the room where we were, looking at it. It was the big ugly thing which was leaking. The delicate, sifty bits went up the chimney. Those were the bits we saw wafting about over the house, doing the sifting. 

Alright, that made sense, I could follow that.

The sifty bits sifted. Shocking, I know. They sifted dreams out of the air and snatched them before they reached their proper destination and then drew them down into the main part. He did not explain how or why or where or when or anything about why dreams were just floating about loose instead of being entirely inside people’s heads but that was fine, I was beyond that, I was comfortable knowing I’d never know.

Magic. Whatever.

And then once in the main part of the sifter the dreams were condensed and distilled and filtered and whatever whatever. Basically the thing took dreams and through a series of arcane and fiddly processes turned them into some kind of liquid. Dream liquid, liquid dreams. 

And this stuff was good stuff, he said. You could use it to do a variety of dream-related activities, apparently. Dream whatever you wanted. Live whole imaginary lives doing the impossible. Marry a cloud and have a whole family of raindrops, whatever tickled your fancy.

I thought you could just learn how to lucid dream. Couldn’t people do that already? Maybe that wasn’t good enough?

The man did mention, offhand, that a side effect of people having their dreams sifted or intercepted or whatever was that the ensuing void tended to invite bad dreams to come in and fill the space. Again, how that worked was something that was glossed over completely but here at least we finally had our explanation as to why any of this bad dream business was happening in the first place.

It was happening as a side-effect. This wasn’t the intention at all. The intention was this dream liquid the man wanted. The bad dreams were a consequence of the process. Somehow that’s even more galling than if it had been on purpose. Poor Nisien’s screaming and exhaustion and my bad nights were an afterthought. 

In fact, no, not even an afterthought, not even a thought at all. Just background noise.

Grr. 

I felt I’d heard enough.

“Why?” I asked, cutting in as the man warbled on about some point to do with the bottling process. He blinked at me.

“Why what?” He asked.

“Why did you decide to do this?”

“...I don’t understand. I did explain how it worked, didn’t I?”

“Well enough, sure. I mean why did you think this was something you had to do? Dream liquid? Why did you build this instead of just not building this? Why aren’t you playing pinball right now or literally anything else?”

Not a complicated question, I thought. He blinked at me again as he was having some difficulty working out where I was coming from. I could see him working through a slow formulation of an answer in his head, trying to hack his reasons down into something someone else might understand.

What works in our head is often difficult to put into the heads of others. Often it doesn’t survive the journey. I’m aware of this. I gave him time.

“With access to the raw, distilled essence of dreams I’m able to fully control the dreamscape. Lucid dreaming is a crock and a waste of time and beneath me, anyway. Total control is the real deal, I can do whatever I want, anything at all,” he said, eventually, slowly.

This was not a compelling answer to my not-very-complicated question. It was barely an answer at all. I pointed to the sifter again, just for emphasis.

“So this machine is sucking in the dreams of just about everyone within a however-many square mile radius, leaving a void that bad dreams rush into, and you’re basically melting all those dreams you’ve effectively stolen down into something that you fiddle about with and inject into yourself so that you can have whatever dream you want?” I asked.

“That is a ridiculously oversimplified and crude way of-” he started, but I did not let him finish.

“It’s a yes or no question and I’m holding a crowbar.”

His eyes flicked to the crowbar.

“...yes.”

The crowbar gets results. Humanity really did peak with that one.

Certainly a crowbar was infinitely superior to this dream-snaffling whatever. All these dreams all sucked in so one person can benefit? Those numbers are shocking.

“That’s spectacularly inefficient,” I said.

“Yes, but-”

I wasn’t finished though:

“Not to mention overwhelmingly selfish.”

But that should have gone without saying.

I mean honestly, I’m not even sure how anyone could get anywhere with a plan like this. How could you even start? How could you not run through it in your head, see how horrendously selfish it was and realise that, as an exercise in theory it’s diverting but in practise it would just be disgustingly self-indulgent and therefore something you shouldn’t do?

Was I missing something? Was this just me?

“Selfish?” He asked, as though the word had been a slap in the face.

“Well, yeah. If you can’t figure that out on your own I’m not sure where to start. If you eat someone else’s lunch that’s also selfish, did you know that?”

“It’s not selfish,” he said, pouting. Actually pouting.

“Feels pretty selfish from where I’m standing,” I said and he bristled a moment before replying.

“I’ll admit it’s unfortunate that some people are having bad dreams but there’s really only so much I can do about that.”

Big of him to admit that it was unfortunate.

“You could always not do it. You could do that,” I said.

He ignored this.

“It’s only in it’s prototype stage. I’ll admit it’s far from perfect now, but it’s getting better every day. Soon, pretty soon, I’ll have the ratio all the way down to one-to-one. That’ll just be one person maybe running the risk of having a bad dream - which they might not even remember anyway! - so I can dream whatever I want. Do you have any idea what I can do in those dreams?” He asked instead.

“I shudder to think.”

That took him a second.

“Not like that!”

“Hmm.”

I was thinking. I was always thinking, obviously, as are we all, but right then I was thinking about this whole thing, this whole business. Thinking about it and what I should do about it. Clearly I should do something, shouldn’t I? But what, and why?

Questions, questions.

This was a bad thing he was doing, yes? Yes, I think I can comfortably say that. Deciding that your personal enjoyment ranks above the discomfort or outright suffering of however many other people. Especially since this particular type of enjoyment is the explicit cause of that discomfort. That’s a bad thing.

I think I can follow this so far.

With that being the case what was I meant to do? Was I meant to do anything? Were any of us meant to do anything? 

Maybe I’ve got a bit beyond the scope of the issue, there. Let’s pull back in a bit.

Let us say that he is right when he says the thing can be improved. Let’s assume that for a moment. Even if he got that machine down to one-to-one efficiency that’s still ensuring someone else has bad dreams so he can have good dreams.

What if he rotated who the machine picked? Isn’t it likely someone is going to have a bad dream anyway? Where’s the harm, really? Would they even notice? In the grand scheme of things, does it even matter?

Yada yada. Questions like these serve to pluck away at your energy, slow you down and divert your attentions, make you doubt yourself. Sure, if you ignore them you might make a mistake, but if you listen to them all you might end up doing nothing, and doing nothing is usually what someone doing something they shouldn’t wants you to do.

Sometimes a Gordian knot just needs cutting. Sometimes you just have to say bollocks to compromise and go full-on hey diddle diddle, straight up the middle.

So no dice. Decision made. No dream stealing. Not on my watch.

You want to have good dreams you wait for them like anyone else. Or do it in a way that doesn’t attract my attention, and the attention of my crowbar.

“Rose, you might want to step outside,” I said, which seemed to snap Rose out of whatever quiet funk she’d slipped into. Seriously, she’d really clammed up ever since we broke into a guy’s house and been confronted by the guy whose house we’d broken into.

“Huh?” She asked.

“I’m going to draw a line under this,” I said.

“Oh, right. Okay. I’ll just - I’ll go. Meet you outside,” she said, shuffling out of the room with only one or two backwards glances. The man was suddenly just a touch nervous. I could see this.

“Where’s she going? What are you talking about? What do you mean draw a line?” He asked.

“You’re a clever fellow, I’m sure you can figure it out,” I said.

Though of course I actually started smashing his sifter before he figured it out. Ain’t I a stinker.

I’m not an expert at smashing but I like to think I did an alright job. I aimed for one of the leaking spots with the pointed end of the crowbar, wedged it in, heaved, and managed to lever off a good half of the thing away from the other half. Made an awful noise and sloshed clear liquid all over. Seemed a good start.

“What are you doing?!” The man squealed, lunging but clearly unsure what to lunge at. Did he lunge at me to stop me or lunge at his machine to try and save it? He hesitated, and while he hesitated I kept going. I pried more bits loose, I whacked the crowbar into the bits that looked like they’d crumple best, I hooked the curved part over dangling bits and yanked.

I made a frightful mess. And in a very short time, too. Maybe I have hidden talents.

In a few seconds what had been a ticking, whirring, leaking device was now several bits of wheezing, leaking, non-ticking, non-whirring junk strewn across the floor and sat in puddles of clear whatever. Presumably that stuff was dreams? Condensed, liquified dreams? Didn’t look like much.

“How selfish of me,” I said. Zing.

The man was on his knees, scrabbling. Again, he obviously didn’t know what to scrabble for first and was just halfway scrabbling at everything in his hysteria.

Sort of ineffectual for a witch, you’d have thought. Maybe if he’d had his magic rod to hand he might have had better luck in beating me off. Aha. I imagine he just found the whole thing a bit overwhelming. Everything’s easier after the fact, isn’t it?

“Do you know how much that cost?!” He wailed at me, eyes glistening. I think he was about to cry.

And I wasn’t sure what this was meant to make me feel, this line about cost. Was I meant to feel worse because he’d spent more money on the thing than I might have suspected? If he’d been frugal, should I have felt less bad? Is a questionable decision that costs more easier to defend? Hmm.

If people wanted to spend money doing something they probably shouldn’t that’s perfectly allowable. Just not clear why it has any bearing on what I do or think. Value is, after all, largely subjective, is it not?

I don’t really know.

“Lots?” I asked.

“Yes! Lots! Fucking lots! Oh God, most of those components were bespoke, too!” He shouted, holding up a handful of bits that had fallen out of loosened casing. The bits glistened. They certainly looked fragile and fiddly.

“What a shame,” I said.

The man deflated, a sob wracking him. He looked down at the puddle he was kneeling in.

“And you wasted all these dreams! Wasted! You wasted them!” He said, angry now, pointing at me.

“Yeah, sure. This was all my fault.”

Mean, this exact thing was my fault, I’ll admit. The smashing bit and the making a mess was my fault. But the greater blame really can’t be ignored or moved here, come on. This is like when the bad guy says it’s not their fault they murdered people, but the fault of the good guys for trying to stop them. 

Not quite like that, but similar. Right? I know what I mean.

“Strictly speaking you wasted them. I just made your dream-wasting machine fall over. But that’s splitting hairs. In future if you’re going to make my housemate’s life miserable so you can enjoy yourself, don’t. Pleasant dreams, now.”

If I’d had sunglasses I’d have put them on then. I don’t care if it’s nighttime, that’s a great sunglasses line. Kind of felt bad to waste it, but chances to drop lines like that don’t come around often and the real waste would have been saying nothing.

My hands were tied.

He didn’t say anything after that, which was good because if he had it would have ruined the moment. So I left him sniffling in his puddle of dreams and went back outside to try and find Rose.

I couldn’t find her out back because she’d gone out the front and was there standing under a streetlight looking like she’d prefer to be anywhere else other than on a street waiting under a lamppost.

“Well that’s sorted,” I said, cheerfully, giving her a wave as I wandered over.

“What did you do?” Rose asked.

I considered saying something else pithy and cool but I was far too tired to come up with anything else off the cuff so just stood there gormless and silent for a second before just coming out with it.

“Smashed his thingy with a crowbar,” I said, waggling said crowbar just so Rose knew which crowbar the thingy had been smashed with. Rose did not look impressed.

“How very direct,” she said.

“It did work pretty well. Last I saw he was crying on the floor so I think we can write this one up as a roaring success.”

“Your definition of success…” Rose tailed off and sucked her lip a moment. “I don’t know how to finish that sentence.”

“That’s fair. You were very quiet in there,” I said.

“You seemed to be on a roll. And I couldn’t really think of anything to say. Felt weird being inside someone’s house when we weren’t meant to be, even if he was, you know, doing something like that. It was kind of nerve-wracking.”

Now that it was done I could feel the tension that I’d been ignoring starting to get the better of me. The trembling had nothing to do with the encroaching chill of night, let me tell you.

“You’re not wrong,” I said, looking at my hand.

Oh God, what had I done? What had any of that been? What had I been thinking? Had I done the right thing? Had I done the right thing the wrong way? Had I done the wrong thing? Was I going to get into trouble? Was he going to tell anyone? Had it even worked? Had I just wasted an evening? Why did I feel so sick all of a sudden?

Eurgh. Worries. I hate those. I stuck my hand in my pocket and bit my tongue.

Ow.

“Can we go?” Rose asked.

“Probably wise.”

So off we went. We didn’t talk as we went. There wasn’t much to say that we hadn’t said before we set off home and besides it was late. Wouldn’t do to be talking in the street and waking people up. Proper sleep hygiene had been the motivating force behind this whole endeavour, after all.

Hadn’t it?

I bid Rose a good and restful night once we got to hers and then carried on back to mine on my own, thinking about the evening, about what had happened. Was that what an adventure felt like? Was this what you were supposed to do after one had concluded? Just go home? Was there something else I should have been doing? Was I going about this all wrong?

Was there a book I could read?

By the time I’d got back home and got in and put the chain on the door I’d stopped worrying about it. Or, rather, I was still worrying about it but was confident that a proper night’s sleep without any nightmares would make me feel a lot better about it. That is to say, everything would make sense in the morning and there wasn’t anything to be gained fretting about it in the dark.

Everything is always the worst it can be in the dark. This is pretty widely-known.

Nisien was still on the sofa, but had clearly rolled around enough to dislodge the blanket I’d laid over him, because that was on the floor. Despite this, he actually looked quite peaceful. Certainly looked more peaceful than he had any night that I’d seen him recently. Sleeping happily, comfortably.

That made me feel much better about the evening. That was an accomplishment. I might have done adventure wrong, sure, and maybe I’d made lots of mistakes, but I’d still fixed what I’d set out to fix. If nothing else, Nisien was going to get a proper night’s sleep. And this was good.

Objectively good. In my book.

I put the blanket over him again, obviously, because that was the nice thing to do. He stirred as I did so.

“Nngh? Wassis? Sorry, sorry...” he mumbled blearily, blinking, squinting. I patted him on the head.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” I said.

“N’okay…” and he did.

Yes, definitely an objectively good thing. Solved a problem for a friend. People might question my methods but my results are impeccable.

And so to bed. Knackered me out that adventure. Popped the crowbar back under the bed, stripped off most of my clothes at least until I ran out of energy, crawled under the covers and did my best to quiet the churning, raging thoughts rattling around inside my head. All the loose ends could be sorted out tomorrow. Didn’t have anything else that needed doing, and it was unlikely there’d be another adventure so soon.

Well that was exciting.

END

[lumienshitposting]

I am going feral

I was never allowed to decorate my room as a teen or kid, I wasn't allowed to hang up posters, I wasn't allowed to pain my walls, I wasn't allowed to have my plushies around the room, or decorate it with stuff I enjoyed.

SO when I moved out for college and had my own room, were rules were very loose and I could pretty much do what I wanted (mostly just having a rule off no wall painting and if you hang something up it has to stay there when you move). Because I finally could show of what Loved I went full out on pastel, kidcore, and j-fashion inspired. everything PASTEL. something I couldn't really explore before. And I had my pastel room up to this point.

But now I have a new special interest, I love the pastel but I want something new again. I always loved natural colors for themed room too. I AM MAKING MY ROOM SKY THEMED. At first i thought surely someone has done this already, i could probably find some rouge pictures for inspiration online. I did not, in fact, find any. SO I now have to be creative. I first made myself a pintrest boards with different sky inspirations to see what I wanted to go for and then so I knew what kind of things I would need.

I decided on a general color theme which you mostly find in Daylight Prairie, and some areas of Hidden Forest. They were my favorite realms after all. I also felt that was pretty doable, but generally I didn't want to restrict myself. I decided on the colors: greens, blues, yellows, and some general warm and cold tones because of candles and cosmetics.

Next I had to set up some rules for myself:

Nothing can go into the walls or be permanently put on the walls either (landlord rules). same goes for furniture that isn't mine.

I do not want to get rid of any of my plushies, I love my plushie collection and they are staying!

not going over my own comfort zone, if I feel something doesn't work, that is okay.

After giving myself some limitations I decided to make a list of things I will have to buy or get to make the theme work (+ general prices):

something to cover my ugly bookshelf, make it look like a rock or something (300kr)

cloud looking blanket (400kr)

green carpets (400kr)

Crab plushie (400kr)

Krill Plushie (400kr)

Lots of Sky decor (2 000 kr)

Hoodie cape (300 kr)

leaf pillow (250 kr)

Fake candles (200kr)

fitting bedcover and blanket (400 kr)

Sky cosplay to put around (1000 kr)

SO! lets get started! I am hoping I can draw up a general plan after exams. LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

[qnewslgbtiqa]

Here's to more Trans Glamoré!

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/heres-to-more-trans-glamore/

Here's to more Trans Glamoré!

There aren’t many dedicated events for the trans community in Sydney but Victoria Anthony has been working hard to change that all year round.

Trans Glamoré is well recognised within Sydney’s queer nightlife scene as one of the most joyful and positive events the city has to offer.

It’s one of the only calendar events catered towards the transgender and gender-diverse community in Sydney that has remained consistent, with weekly shows at the Newtown Hotel and monthly events at Stonewall Hotel.

Especially during Mardi Gras, Trans Glamoré acts as a testament to the undeniable and powerful presence of trans people in Sydney’s LGBTQIA+ community.

The event was founded in 2017 by Victoria Anthony, one of Sydney’s most respected names as a DJ, and a prominent figure on Oxford Street.

In an exclusive interview with QNews, Victoria speaks to the importance of trans visibility in 2024 and what the event is all about.

What was your overall aim in creating Trans Glamoré?

I wanted to give trans performers a place where they could feel like they could express themselves and get into performing.

When I first started out, I didn’t really have anywhere that I could go where you could meet other trans people, or you could perform as a trans person.

It was very much like we had to be mixed in with the drag queens, which wasn’t a problem. I mean, that’s often been the way.

If we look at the history of Sydney and trans showgirls and performers, and drag queens, I think there’s definitely been a mix between the two.

But by the time I started my time doing shows and DJing, I felt like the space for trans performers had kind of disappeared in Sydney.

And so that’s why I thought I’d start Trans Glamoré.

I wanted to create a space where people could just meet other trans people and feel celebrated.

So often what I hear is about how hard life can be as a trans person. So I wanted Trans Glamoré to be something that was a celebration of being trans and living life.

I certainly don’t see myself as a pioneer in this. I know that there are a lot of other trans people who have been doing this before me, and because of them I am grateful that it was easier for me to be myself.

Why is having a trans event focused on joy and happiness important for our community?

Having a trans event that’s focused on joy and happiness gives trans people the opportunity to see themselves through other trans people, whether they’ve decided to start on their own journey or not.

They get to see other trans people being happy. I feel a lot of people don’t really get to see that they could be happy as trans, or you don’t get that visibility factor where you get to meet trans people all the time.

So, if you really did want to meet trans people, then you could come to Trans Glamoré, and see that it’s all OK.

You’d see that we’ve got amazing allies that support us. And it’s not just going to be something where we focus on bad things that happen in our lives, or other negative parts of our community, because I feel like that’s done a lot.

Everyone has difficult days, and at the start it definitely might feel harder.

But I also think it’s very important to have a night to just let loose and relax, have a drink and meet new people. And that’s really refreshing.

Yes, there’s a lot of work that needs to be done, but we have to play and have a good time.

Work hard, play hard, and that’s what Trans Glamoré is all about! To just enjoy yourself, celebrate who you are and meet new people. With allies and friends and family by our side.

Who were some of your inspirations for this event? Were there any figures in the scene that inspired you to create Trans Glamoré?

Maxi Shield used to run the entertainment at The Colombian hotel, and when one of those events stopped being hosted there, Maxi said I should do some sort of trans event. So that’s how this all started.

I feel like she really inspires me because I love her work ethic. I love everything that she does and she works really hard and she loves to try new things. So she gave me a chance to run this event.

I was also very much inspired by this venue called the Taxi Club, which existed for many years in Sydney, and it was definitely the main venue, or the watering hole, for all of the trans or gender diverse people to come out and party and meet people who admire us.

That had just closed down a few years before I started Trans Glamoré, so I felt like there was a space that was needed for this kind of event.

I used to watch videos of Carlotta and the Les Girls from the 70s and 80s online and I felt that had such a great vibe. So I thought that would be an amazing feeling to try to recreate.

And I’ve had the support of some of the people involved with Les Girls in performing in my show.

Colleen Windsor has done the show, Katherine Wolfgramme, Suzie St James, Linda Montana, Darlene… There are a lot of girls that used to do what I’m doing and I’m just trying to carry it forward.

Can you speak to the importance of trans visibility specifically in 2024?

The reality is there’s not a lot of trans people that are being visible so I just think there’s not enough visibility for us.

That’s why there are people who get upset when they see us up on stage because they can’t really relate to our journey, but they’re not thinking about the other people who can.

If it doesn’t affect them, then why stop us from having our own space? If they’re not going to give us that space, then I’ll create one.

We need some sort of visibility or how else are we going to grow? How are we going to educate people about us, and then show trans people in a different light?

Trans Glamoré is not just for trans women. It’s also for trans men and non-binary performers as well.

I definitely welcome trans men and non-binary people and if anyone reaches out to me, I’ll include them in the show.

I’m really amazed by some trans male performers. We’ve had Pink Lemonade perform, and a lot of non-binary performers as well. A lot of girls, Lyla Joy, Blueberry Bakla… just to name a few.

I think any visibility is good. Yes, I’m out there being who I am, but I don’t think every trans person can relate to how my journey is or how I like to do my transition and how I like to live my life.

People might just see the negative, but there’s a lot of love and positivity and joy about being trans and we can offer the world a lot if we’re given the opportunity.

-Trans Glamoré is held at Stonewall Hotel on the first Thursday of every month and at the Newtown Hotel every Thursday and will be performing at Hot Trans Summer on February 22 as part of Mardi Gras.

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[enoblesarts102-03]

Project 3’s goal was to create a voting poster. We had to pick an inspiring quote from a list to base the idea of the poster on. I picked “The political core of any movement for freedom in the society has to have the political imperative to protect free speech.” —Bell Hooks.

I didn’t know where to begin for this quote, and I honestly don’t know why I picked it since I didn’t know what to do. I just felt like… it wasn’t generic? I didn’t want to pick a quote that I already had of bunch of ideas for, because the ideas were basic and related to posters I’ve seen before. So, I just went with Bell Hooks and dissected every word I could. In my original sketches, I thought “core” was an interesting word, and what has cores? Apples! And jokingly I drew an apple thinking it would never make it past the sketch stage. We later did small group critique in class and both my partners really liked the apple, and I’m glad they did. I had a lot of fun brainstorming a ton of ideas.

Surprisingly, I didn’t think about an eaten apple till the 11th sketch. My professor mentioned something about it being more melancholic, and that just stood out to me. So I kept drawing eaten apples instead of the full ones. I liked the angles, the different colors, it just pops nicely to me. But I also don’t enjoy politics myself, I think the reality we live in today is really melancholic. Sometimes as a voter, we may feel meaningless due to the small portion we contribute. Sometimes there are people in power that don’t care about the people but their own party’s agendas (both sides). So, politics to me are not something that always creates positivity, I wanted to keep the eaten apple. So, now I have my main apple (the one on the top of the line, see pictures below). I tried drawing from scratch but I couldn’t get it just right. I eventually just took a picture of a sketch I loved and traced it. I just tried stuff out and didn’t overthink this process. I knew I wanted the lines as shadows though, I just felt, it fit and I liked it. So, I ended up with a cartoonish apple in my own style.

THE BACKGROUND. Gosh, this took the most amount of time. First I wanted a sideways paint slash but the app I use on my iPad didn’t have anything tactile enough. I wanted the paint to look real, with shadows and you could tell the paint was thick on the flat paper. Then I tried Adobe illustrator, no luck. Adobe Photoshop, no luck. Nothing looked 3D! So I went to the store over the weekend, got some cheap paint, canvas and brushes… did not work. I have absolutely no experience in paint, I really should have researched before I got anything, haha! But hey, I spent an hour messing around with paint and got it all over my hands and even on my wall! I did this on my bed by the way, with the plastic bag under everything, surprisingly no paint on my sheets. After washing my hands multiple times, I noticed the soap was like the shiny-ness I wanted, so I added soap to my paint and put it on a canvas, it did change a little, but it was a fun little experiment. The paint was still too flat! I started worrying wether I would be able to think of something else before the deadline for the project. So, I slept on it…

Last class to come up with an idea, and it just popped in my brain “reflection”. Ok, what reflects? Water! I drew a line across the middle so I could make that as the top of the water. I copied my apple, flipped it and I wanted to try taking the color out of it. I started smearing the greyscale apple but it just didn’t look anything like water. I decided to move on and thought, what if I put colors over the apple? Like abstract art? And I liked it. It was really cool, abstract dots and lines over a colorless apple. In the back of my mind I wanted to see what else I could discover, so I kept going. I must have been unconsciously conscious for this part cause I just found a brush and started loosely filling the bottom apple. Now I had the finished product, but I needed contrast, so I tried black lines on a whim. Worked out pretty well, cause I love it!

For a while, I knew I wanted the text to border the outside and highlight some words in red (especially core). A project someone else had from project one (six word memoirs) had text around the border and I really wanted to try it. Plus the bordered text takes up space without taking away from the picture. I did try placing the text in the bottom apple but it was too busy (see picture below). The best part of the text I chose is the name of it, ‘apple myungjo’. It has the word ‘apple’ in it!! And I love the way it looks in my poster as well.

For the critique stage I got a lot of good feedback and it made me feel really good about my poster. I got asked the question “why do you have the line in the middle?” And I didn’t have an answer! I never thought about the significance of it. Or “did you line up the line, ‘n’ and ‘l’ (in the quote) together on purpose?”… no, I never thought of it. It’s amazing how much there is to think about, not just in the way you compose a picture, but the words that are in it. I learned a lot this project and I had a lot of fun. I would definitely do this again to see what else I could come up with.

Pictures:

1. Process sketches, get the ideas out of my mind and onto paper

2. Apple ideas

3. Apple ideas continued

4. first idea try

5. Second idea try

6. Trace of sketch I loved, tried different colors too

7. Apple, mirror, try text in apple

8. Apple, mirror, abstract

9. Finished picture

10. finished poster

[saltiestcoconut]

✨💞💝🕯️💌 for the fic writer ask!

Oooooo nonny! Thank you so much for all those questions! If you don't mind I'll just shove all the answers under a read more break to save space lol

I'll also won't be answering the heart ribbon question because I already answered that one 💖

✨️ What's a fic you've posted you wished you could breath new life into again and have people talking about it? (Or simply a fic you wish you got more credit)

Hmmm I don't care too much about the amount of attention me or my fics get (I have to not care to stop myself from getting discouraged) but I really do wish I could think up of a plot or something for Till Do Us Part I think I just might end up rewriting that or SOMETHING cause I love the fics premise so much I'm just horrible at plot lol

💞 What's the most important part of a story for you? The plot, the characters, the world building, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

I don't know how you would classify this but stories have to be engaging/interesting for sure! I'm not super hardcore picky about tension and stuff but stories have to at least pique my interest within the first chapter or so else I'm going to put it down and not pick it back up lmao that said I also can't stand when a story has good pacing but then looses it and don't pick it back up for a good amount of time so pacing is pretty important to me too while I prefer fast paced stories that throws shit at you one thing after another (which is why I adore vrains and zexal) but I also don't mind when stories slow down ya know as long as it's still interesting and there's promise of excitement soon or something idk

🕯 Was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

Omg idk if I talked about this before but writing a fic venus was kinda hard on me cause I knew what I wanted the characters to be but I didn't really know what I wanted them to do (surprise surprise I also struggle with this a lot) but after talking about it extensively with venus it kinda just spiraled out of control to this whole ass large au that kinda writes itself now and whoo boy was it unexpected but beautiful I'm still in the process of writing it lmao and am so excited to post it but hhhhh it's slow cause I'm scatterbrained and get stuck easily lol its fine I'll figure it out (in case yall haven't guessed it's my Yoshiwara au which I've talked about before)

(Oh wait I just realized that the candle emoji is associated with two questions hey nonny was this the question you wanted me to answer or did you want me to answer the other one? Feel free to send another ask if you wanted me to answer the other one I don't mind answering both)

💌 Share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Listen I could probably share something involving my Yoshiwara AU cause there's been a lot of scenes I've already written that I've really liked and I'm just soooooooooo excited about it BUT instead I'll share something else because it's something different

See there's a fic I've written a bit of that has two different endings that readers can choose for themselves because I couldn't decide which ending I wanted to write lmao

It's an aiyusa canon divergence taking place what three weeks after ai v pm final duel

(Since it was inspired by a gintama arc conclusion it does include gintama-style comedy the italicized dialogue is mental communication)

[scifriskyxy]

The tale of Darkness and Flesh || Warverse Fan short Story

Warning:Gore,death and some Angst

There have been people going missing ever since the new batch of people fell from the skies...that day...something that likely should have not fallen in had caused a total black out of all light the nature of this world often causes interference with the powers of certain people normally killing them however there are rumors of one of these people surviving

It was an uneventful evening for nightmare exept cross was dead...he had been eaten partialy and his uper half of his body taken in his own home there was no trace of struggle likely killed in his sleep...and at the same time memories of him where harder to recall aswell yet the anger was there and he wanted to atleast get the other half of his necklace back ,the clues lead to a warehouse with danger signs all over and graffiti saying death, the smell "likely the right place" he said to himself with a pissed off growl as he got over the fence and found a hole he could enter through...it...was dark...abnormally dark, and bloody...carcasses animal human and monster alike littered the entire area stripped of whatever some half eaten bones and all an entire pile it was disgusting the latest victims layed atop he saw the golden shimmer he headed closer until a voice is heard "you shouldn't be here...Tootsy...I dont wish to harm you ...more that already did...I know what you want...you aren't getting it......I won't allow it-......IT HURTS...IT HURTS...HUNGRY HUNGRY....R-Run...I beg you...he's near the area...the closer this...anomaly is...the more I loose myself..." Nightmare froze as anger filled him "WHOM ARE YOU! SHOW YOURSELF!" he yelled ...an influx of negativity "no...PLEASE I dont GAH!...." something dropped from above...a necklace no a moon medallion it quickly exerted a purple magic burst throwing him back the being dropped from above being tattered...small eyed glowing in the darkness half dead half alive "I shall not allow you......I'll take the pain away...forget...about him...FORGET about ME!....im...sorry...I'm so sorry" Nightmare tried to quickly get up but the being came however not directly with swift movement she targeted his tendrils which for most was a mistake he attemted to slam this being into a wall however he quickly lost feeling of the tendril and it went limp which made him freeze before he knew it another tendril was under commission he panicked and attacked blindly the two remaining tendrils fell and he was on his back on the floor pinned down he tried to grab her by the neck eyes thin staring face to face...freezing...faint memories...of someone a smile the tree the stars started to resurface but before he could remember this person put his hand on his forehead both in the flashback and in actuality and said In Dreamtale language "forget me forget the pain forget the love unbine and forgotten...no bonds of love or friendship, Oh guardian of mine...I hope you can forgive me...the darkness awaits for me...I cannot remain,please rest...close your eyes...let the pain go away...let the stars guide you once more" she made him forget...about him...about cross and his bonds of love friendship and more,she made the pain go away and took it in herself

Nightmare Woke up in a colds sweat breathing hevally, holding his chest...the memory hazy quickly becoming no more than a bad dream and then nothing...he had rather quickly forgotten about what had happened, cross? He was but another by stander he didnt care about at all,tho he wasn't sure what was going on exactly, he could fell something had happened, but well now,now all he knew is that he wanted his morning coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I got bored wanted some angst and I saw nightmare had been added so...I kinda decided to do a non cannon story and a concept that had been on my mind for a while of how dusk would be like if she ended up in warverse I am normally not a fan of gore but this scene is inspired by the rotten vale area specifically the area where you fight the elder dragon located over there which is literally a pile of rotten corpses from and her beast form inspired by gore magalas design from monster hunter franchise and a wendigo

Her magic isn't exactly compatible in this universe however it won't let her die either,in short the combination of these traits creates ....something horrifying, she hunts solely at night when the moon in its new moon phase if your unlucky enough to be alone at home well you are a prime prey...anyone whom goes looking for her either goes missing aswell or...mysteriously forgets about it, their bonds to that person they where searching for severed fully,becoming but an acquaintance to them or a nobody nothing more and bear no recollection of the encounter, but she is atleast nice enough to clean them up and get them back to their home atleast

She arrived by accident while investigating the disappearances and instability of the multiverse when she ended up falling in,she had managed to evade Dreams gaze...she bears a hatred for dream mainly due to disturbing the status quo in the multiverse...causing her so much physical and mental pain and unending hunger...the closer this oblivious Dream is the worse she gets...his meer precence and existence brings her agony,eventually she will find a way to kill him even if I tears her apart

Credits

Warverse belongs to warverse

Nightmare belongs to jokublog

Cross belongs to xtaleunderverse

Skeleton Frisk [Dusk] Belongs to Yours truely [me]

[twenytwenytwo]

Sept 11 2022

Filmed another wedding yesterday. To keep it brief, it was really good. The wedding itself looked great, the people looked good, and the vibe was loose and fun. The photographer I met there were fun too, two gurls named Danica and Hannah. I have another wedding with them next Saturday in Parksville.

The feeling of some momentum is nice. I feel like I’ll have enough quality footage on my portfolio to start charging next year.

Still feeling good in the head. No anxiety. If any, it manifests as grumpiness/avoidant vibes. It really seems to me (from my current perspective) the anxiety really starts with a choice of what you’re going to focus on. Emphasis there on “starts”.

Your long-term vibe, which is your habitual state, determines how you feel. You can’t choose to have a positive negative long-term vibe directly. This “long-term vibe” is an average of all your short-term vibes. These “short-term vibes” are come from what we’re thinking about.

Think about something nice/cool: you get a good feeling from that. Do that for an hour, two, four, and you get a positive short-term vibe. Short-term vibes, as the name implies, come and go. They’re as fleeting as the thoughts that inspire them.

When our long-term vibe is negative, willing forward good thoughts to inspire a good short-term vibe can be hard work because we’re working against the wind, per say. For a while, any good feeling we feel must be very deliberately created. As soon as we forget to think good things, our negative thoughts (as a result of our negative long-term vibe) return. When this happens we must find another good thought, concept, something to conjure into our mind.

We can enter into negative long-term vibes unintentionally. This makes it tricky to begin correcting it because it seems somewhat unfair that we need to so intentionally think “happy thoughts” now. It feels like we’re conning ourselves, or brainwashing ourselves back into mental health, when we should be doing it genuinely.

I was working very hard on becoming an established musical artist, the first steps toward success. I ran into a lot of bumps, made mistakes, hit dead-ends, none of which inspire good feelings. I started getting quite sick of getting things wrong, or things going totally different than I expected, even when I had such faith and positivity. I started trying to think as judgementally as I could, so as to get into the mind of a total stranger who was reasonably skeptical of up-and-coming rock bands.

I tried to think of all the things they would shrug off or just happen to not connect with, so as to avoid putting time and energy into them. Examples would be a full album release; who’s got time for that! Music video? I’ll watch 10 seconds. Stage on top of VW Bus? Okay, sorta corny.

I’d imagine all the possible ways that a good idea would fail so as to make them stronger if I decided to execute one. Which was the most impervious to the fickle and dismissive gaze of the eye of the stranger?, with his nose in the air.

I thought this was very good to do. Pressure test everything. Double, triple armour on everything. A plan B… and C, and D. This was how you survived the storm, and made excellent progress.

To cut to the chase, I was unintentionally forming a negative long-term vibe by filling my mind with all the negative possibilities that harm my productivity. I didn’t notice because I had already (weeks, months, before) formed a strong positive long-term vibe, which was making me feel otherwise happy and in control.

After many many many months of this I eventually had a systematic breakdown. I couldn’t stomach the bad vibes anymore and I became mentally sick. It was a total surprise, which made my anxiety (etc) worse because I didn’t understand why or how this came to be. I was totally ignorant to how I had accidentally done this to myself, progressively with no ill intent.

For months I wallowed and suffered through just about every powerful negative feeling. Panic, depression, sadness, paranoia, guilt, anxiety, the list goes on and on. It was relentless and only stopped when I was really sleep deprived. When my mind had energy, it started back up. I deep into a the extreme reaches of a negative long-term vibe.

Eventually time levelled things out a little. I started focusing on recording and being productive and getting back on track. These things helped the trend a little bit. Summer came around, which helped the trend a little too. Again, unintentionally I was influencing my long-term vibe.

Things eventually got decent. I was still dealing with negative feelings though, of loneliness and sadness. I wanted to hang with my friends and play music, like normal. I focused on these thoughts and let them into my frame whenever they randomly wanted.

I had another period of quite intense anxiety and panic permeating my days. This is when I remember that one night in the darkest of my being swallowed by anxiety, I conjured a memory into my mind of being at the beach with the guys and this let a flash of pleasance into my mind. It was a shallow little island in the dark sea of despair that was flooding my mind.

So I began doing the same thing. Conjuring at will any thought or thing into my mind that I liked for this reason or that. Sometimes it was that I made a new friend, who worked in a recording studio and whaf fun it was going to be to be friends with them. Or playing with Ethan again in a more simple setting again. Or thinking about having money. Or whatever. Certain thoughts would lose their appeal through a change in situation or just getting bored of them. Then I’d find other things I liked. Pictures of nice MCM houses. Videos of electric pianos. Thinking about fun in minecraft. Bushcraft videos.

This is practicing being happy. Over time I somewhat unknowing began to feel like I had a substantial influence over what was happening in my mind, and consequently how I felt. This growing sense of control eased my anxiety more and more until I no longer had anxiety.

- interupted

[seriously-really-soft]

A personal narrative essay I wrote for one of my classes that I felt pretty comfortable sharing here even if it’s not fan fiction related

word count: 646

     It was around 5 a.m when it came to an end, when I saw stars where there was only an endless ceiling and felt magic where the air was stale.

     Up until that point, life felt like a continuous regression; it had come to be a seemingly endless collection of shame and regret, of growing mistakes, the burden of which I carried painstakingly over bent shoulders and knees. I was 17 with no dreams and loosely strung up fantasies for futures. Half lived days — ones I would often urge myself to start all over again at midnight — marked both passing and incoming months like some brilliant, flaming clementine peeled by the love callused hands of friends that adore you; the color so full of life and warmth beneath the sun, left both untouched and left to lose its splendor beneath cruel air.

     In retrospect, it all happened in a tiny, cramped room. Though, for the way love found home in me again that morning I felt I could embrace the very atmosphere, that I could kiss it and share saccharine secrets as though we were Sapphos and her sweet Aphrodite. Howl’s Moving Castle was at first only a name I heard in passing. My awareness for it was limited to quotes and gifs on Tumblr, critics raving about its beauty and the delicate impression the movie left on its viewers. It was something special, both cherished and revered by what I understood to be exclusive groups of intellectuals, artists at heart who sought more from life. I longed to be a part of the group more than anything. 

     And so it had been decided, against every other misery that year, I would set to watch the movie with stars to keep me company in that lone 3 a.m room. That night showed me more love in the world than I ever knew what to do with — love for the sky that turned with me, for myself, for simultaneously everything I knew, and everything I couldn’t possibly know in one lifetime.

     It really was everything — from the opening scene to the ending. At once it was easy to understand what had so often been said before - the delicacy, the elegance, the immense love for the world it cradled into one’s heart with unmatched gentleness. Something so inexplicably beautiful was stored in, “A Walk in the Skies”, “Unspoken Love”, “In the Rain”, and in “The Flower Garden”. It was a movie so great in its presentation, and you could revel in its beauty over and over again through Howl’s mannerisms, in Sophie’s love for him, in the art style’s appreciation for everyday beauty. My heart came to understand what it meant to be so deeply enamored with the world - not with its riches, no, nor with its despair - but rather, what it meant to be a part of its vastness and its sometimes nonsensical cycles. I understood, then, that my life had been a walk so long in search of the good in it.

     “I love you back,” the world seemed to say that night, “you are not alone or unnoticed, nor will you live unloved.”

     After the movie came to an end, I laid there in bed both reborn and bleary. Life had once again become so full of hope; still I wonder if there were ever showers, meals, or days of spring as precious to me as they were after that experience. Those feelings stayed with me forever after, and from that time came an ever growing need to make spaces of beauty in the world - to be vulnerable and open, to follow what made life so worth living. It inspired a sense of purpose, the idea that it would feel so right to spend the rest of my time creating small, intimate spaces around the world for people to fall in love with.

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist | Part Two 

Summary: Reader works with Sam & Bucky and has a moment alone with Zemo upon their arrival in Riga. Loosely inspired by this song. 

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: As if you couldn’t tell already when it comes to what characters I love to write for, I love a bad boy. This was meant to be a short, sweet fic and then I had to get all existential and invent an entire storyline around these two. I think there’s definitely room here for a multiple parts, if you’re interested. Let me know what you think!

----

“I’m going for a walk.”

Y/N didn’t argue with Bucky as he walked away stiffly. With anyone else, she would’ve been suspicious, but she knew Bucky well enough to know it was in her best interest to ignore any of his cryptic behavior. At the end of the day, she knew she could trust him. 

Zemo’s flat was spacious and beautiful, and she wasn’t surprised by the ostentatious but minimalist decorating. Zemo excused himself into the bathroom to shower and freshen up. Sam eyed him wearily, but didn’t seem too concerned. Y/N sat down on a couch she guessed cost thrice as much as she paid monthly in rent.

“I’m going to grab some grub, want anything?” Sam asked after only a few moments of pacing around the apartment, seemingly checking to see if they were being set up. 

Y/N shook her head no, the constant traveling over the past few days hadn’t been great for her appetite. 

“Will you keep an eye on him?” Sam said, flicking his eyes in the direction of the bathroom, where she heard the patter of the shower running steadily.

“Of course,” she answered. Zemo had a reputation, she’d seen it herself. But she didn’t know him to the same extent that Bucky and Sam did. So far, he’d only been polite to her so she wasn’t exactly scared or intimidated about any sort of confrontation.

Plus, she was only here as a favor to her friends. She was hardly talented or important enough to be an Avenger. Bucky and Sam knew they could call her if they were in a pinch. And right now, they were definitely in a pinch. 

Picking up a book of photography from the coffee table in front of her, she flipped through it absentmindedly, admiring the photos of ornate architecture and crowded city streets before the click of a doorknob caught her attention. Zemo emerged from the bathroom with damp hair in a bathrobe, slinging a towel over his shoulder and immediately making his way towards the kitchen.

Y/N heard the clink of glasses and ice, and she returned her attention to the book. All the traveling was catching up to her, as her eyelids began to feel heavy, and the quiet in the room allowed her body to finally settle.

“Have a drink with me,” she was startled when she realized Zemo was standing over her, a cocktail extended in her direction. Not a question, a command. 

“I’m alright, thank you,” she said flatly. 

“I have to celebrate.”

Sighing, and abandoning the book altogether she closed it, sitting it on the table and crossing her arms, looking up at him.

“Come on, It’s one drink,” he winked, and pressed the cocktail into her hands. Up close, she felt like she was seeing him for the first time, rather than just another means to an end for one of Bucky’s missions. Zemo was good-looking, there was no doubt there. Tall, Dark hair, handsome enough to turn heads, but not so chiseled to be unapproachable. She guessed he was maybe ten years her senior, and while she thought being locked up for so long might’ve taken a toll on anyone, there was no trace of it in his features.

Taking it reluctantly, but still not entirely sold, she raised an eyebrow as he slowly sat down next to her. “All right, what’s the occasion?” she asked.

He lifted his drink, and she sighed, shifting her weight so she was facing him, meeting his eyes and lifting her cocktail so it was level with his. “To being a free man.”

They clinked glasses and she took a sip, the bite of the liquor concealed by a sweet and smooth aftertaste. Whatever he’d made her, it was good. 

“Temporarily,” she added after a moment, watching him take another sip of his drink.

“What?” he asked, turning to face her. 

“You’re only a free man temporarily,” she said. 

“Touche,” he answered, one arm stretching over the back of the couch, his hand nearly touching her shoulder. He gave her a devilish grin. 

A surprising warmth fluttered in her stomach, and she turned away from him to sip her cocktail. She wasn’t ignorant. After all, she was the only woman in the group, she hadn’t missed his lingering glances and once-overs while they were partying in Madripoor. It would’ve been flattering, but she was probably the first woman he’d seen in years. 

They sat in silence for a moment as Zemo leaned back to survey the room. She supposed she hadn’t done a good enough job of appreciating it the first time around, high ceilings, natural light, but just enough privacy to feel cozy and inviting. Another steely sip of liquor passed her lips. She hadn’t had a drink in god only knew how long. 

“Tell me, doesn’t this work get exhausting?” his smooth, accented voice cut through the quiet. “Traveling all the time, getting beat up, the lack of sleep, or a routine, following orders…”

She shrugged, pondering a moment. “It’s not so bad. Plus, it’s not like I know anything else.” When she glanced over at him, his eyes were fixated intently on her, but he was unreadable. “I know you think I’m a monster, but I’m just doing what’s right.”

“What you think is right,” he corrected, and before she could bite back, finished his thought. “My people, my family. All gone because of what someone with too much power thought was right.” A sadness flickered across his visage, but disappeared as soon as she could register it. 

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, earnest. 

“And I don’t think you’re a monster,” Zemo said, shifting his weight so he was facing her dead on, tilting his head to the side and studying her. Something about his gaze felt sharp, like he could see through her. “You aren’t entirely sold on all this, I can see it in your eyes.”

His words cut deep, deeper than she was willing to admit to anyone, even herself. But what was normal? And could she ever be? “What makes you think that?”

“How often do you get to be selfish?” he asked. His robe gaped open a little at the top, revealing a dainty silver chain necklace clasped around his neck with a small charm dangling from it, pale skin and a smattering of chest hair. “When was the last time you got to sit down, relax, enjoy yourself?”

Glancing down at the drink in her hand, feeling slightly vulnerable, she felt a smiling playing at the edges of her lips. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I’m enjoying myself right now,” he said, and she raised her eyebrows. “What, can you blame me? Good whiskey, a beautiful woman by my side.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, holding back a smile. Warmth crept like vines up her neck, pooling in her cheeks. “You should be careful,” she warned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He leaned closer and she could smell the scent of his aftershave, smoke and musk, heat from the shower still radiating off his body. Maybe the whiskey was getting to her. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he lifted the drink to meet his lips, pitching his head back to finish off the liquor before discarding the empty glass on the table in front of them. 

“Would it be so bad if I was?”

Outside, the sun passed behind a cloud, and the room dimmed ever so slightly, casting shadows that caught along Zemo’s cheekbones, his jawline. The waning light made her all the more aware of how the energy in the room had shifted. 

“It’d be unprofessional,” she said, voice low, and he seemed much closer than he’d been before. But he wasn’t the only one closing the gap, she realized she was definitely, inadvertently, meeting him halfway. 

“Oh well,” he said, softly. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her eyes adjusted to the light, and up close, he was mesmerizing, deep brown eyes filled with longing. His gaze made her stomach turn, and she knew she should be disgusted but she just couldn’t bring herself to feel anything other than intrigue.

Shaking her head no, she couldn’t find the words to speak. Maybe because she wouldn’t believe any last attempts at protest. Better to save her breath.

The Baron’s hand, cool from the icy glass, rose to cup her cheek, so gentle and tender, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. Frozen, all she could do was breathe slowly as her heart raced. “Zemo-” she began weakly.

“Helmut,” he corrected. “Call me Helmut.”

Y/N gave no answer, unable to remember what she had been protesting when he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. 

Goosebumps rose along her arms, ears ringing, as he kissed her. The arm he’d been resting on the couch behind her pulled her closer, and her own free hand rose to his neck, letting him take control. 

Her lips parted and his tongue traced her bottom lip, deepening the kiss. He groaned into her mouth, the vibration raising every hair on her body. Oh, she knew it was bad, but she hadn’t felt so desired, so wanted in years. Wandering hands lazily slid down his neck, to his shoulders where her fingers pushed underneath the loose neckline of his robe, palms exploring the broad expanse of his chest. 

Her skin tingled, every exposed surface aching to be touched, explored by him, and maybe he could tell as his hand left her jaw to coast down her torso, all the way to hook behind her knee and pull her leg across his lap, an invitation to straddle him that didn’t go unnoticed, but she’d need time to decide whether or not she was willing to go that far. 

As for exploring, he wasted no time bringing his hand back up her stomach, to hover lightly over the curve of her breast, squeezing gently as to gauge her reaction, a request to continue, and her breath caught in her mouth, her body instinctively pressing against him. His thumb found the peak of her nipple even through the padding of her bra and thin t-shirt. 

Her lips parted from his to let out a breathless moan, and his mouth trailed down her neck as her fingers tangled in his hair. His tongue and teeth passed over a particularly sensitive spot, which he discovered when she let out a strangled gasp, and doubled down, sucking and grazing over and over until she finally couldn’t bare it any longer and she pulled away. 

Zemo’s face hovered inches from hers, and she wanted to give him some sort of excuse. That this was wrong, they shouldn’t be doing this, but she took in his equally unfastidious appearance and decided not to waste her words on something so cliche. He looked utterly breathtaking.

He didn’t move away, just smiled gently. “How does it feel...to do the bad thing?” he teased.

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that passed her lips, feeling lightheaded and giddy. “Not so bad at all,” She should’ve been enraged, she should’ve wretched herself out of his arms, but she was engulfed in his scent and his comforting presence, unwilling to leave. It wasn’t so terrible to be selfish. It was her who closed the gap between them again.

He smiled against her lips, hand returning to hook behind her knee once more, and this time she obliged, shifting her weight so she could straddle his lap and his hands met both sides of her hips as she cupped his face, fingers in his hair on his shoulders, kissing him with unbridled passion. 

She could feel his excitement through the fabric of the robe, and knew she was getting carried away, but every nerve in her body smarted for contact. He was impossibly warm and she couldn’t get enough of it. Rolling her hips forward to tease him, he let out a groan and arched upward. “Oh, liebling, I wish we had more time.”

As if on cue, she heard the scratching of the key in the front doorway, and was immediately jolted from her reverie. Before she knew it she was off the couch and halfway across the room, just as Bucky entered, looking perturbed as always. 

“Hey,” she said, turning her back to him and pretending to look out the window, voice unsteady. She heard Helmut clear his throat and shift his weight on the couch. 

Busying herself in the kitchen, she let the curtain of her hair fall over the side of her face, hiding her clearly flustered appearance, her face was still impossibly warm, her skin sensitive, lips swollen. “How was your walk?” 

“Fine,” Bucky said, and she heard him walking towards her as she absentmindedly pretended to wipe down the countertops. When he brushed past her to use the sink she jumped, finally looking him in the eyes. Bucky frowned. “Are you all right?” he asked. 

Staring back at him for a moment she nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You just seem a little jumpy.”

“There was a spider,” the lie came out so easily, so quickly, that she was actually ashamed of it. “It was big and I….I don’t know where it went.”

Bucky snorted, and whether he believed her or not, didn’t respond. “Where’s Sam?” he asked. 

“Out getting dinner,” she said, feeling her heart rate begin to turn back to normal. Bucky washed his hands and shook the excess water off in the basin.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to lie down,” she said after a moment. “The jetlag is catching up to me.”

She turned around and left Bucky in the kitchen, returning to the lounge area where Zemo turned to look over his shoulder. “Allow me to show you to the guest bedroom,” he said, an ornery sparkle in his eyes. 

“Fine,” she said flatly, wondering what exactly he was planning and just intrigued enough to resist an argument.

The bedroom was just out of Bucky’s earshot, down a short hallway. As she stepped over the threshold to the awaiting large, inviting bed, a hand on her waist halted her in her tracks. 

“I’m not finished with you,” she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, the scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses once more. It took a great deal of control to pull herself away from him, as she turned around and grabbed the doorknob, dragging it towards her. “We’ll see about that,” she said quietly, shutting the door in his face and letting out an exhausted breath. She’d awakened a monster, and now she had no idea what to do about it.

---

PART II out now!

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please let me know!

[crybabyalexxx]

Nova

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky have a secret arrangement. Inspired by Billie Eilish’s ‘Billie Bossa Nova’

Warnings: NSFW 18+, submissive Bucky, dominant reader, BDSM involved

A/N: This was very fun to write as always. It is my first time writing anything for Bucky but this song just reminds me so much of him and I couldn’t help myself. Hope everyone enjoys it! I always get so nervous before posting a story.

Word Count: 2k

Here you were at another one of Tony’s parties. It’s not like you weren’t having any fun, it’s just that you’d rather be somewhere else. With someone else. It was rare when everyone got a moment for themselves so you all enjoyed it when everyone was together. Made you feel like a real family. But tonight, you only wanted to be with one person.

“Hey stranger, you’re quiet tonight. Everything alright?’ Natasha makes her way up to you, drink in hand. She always made sure you were treated well and felt comfortable. You were so thankful for her.

“Yeah, just a little tired.” Across the room from you was Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier. You two came face to face a few times on missions, before and after you joined the team. He hates to admit it but you were a tough one to fight. You love to remind him how easily you can kick his ass. You loved it when you got him down on his knees.

Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of you all night. From the moment you walked into the room with that silk green dress. It was causal, yet he adored you. He was quieter than usual, but everyone blew it off as ‘Bucky being Bucky’, and he didn’t mind. He just needed you. Bucky knew you thought the same thing too, it was the way you were looking at him. Like you wanted him on his knees. He wanted to obey.

Nobody knew but you and Bucky would regularly meet. When everyone was asleep, you and the Winter Soldier would sneak off and hide behind closed doors. It all started one night after training, the way he was breathing against you. Your legs wrapped around him tightly. Then it happened again after a mission, him knocking on your door and you pulling him in. It’s hard to stop it once it starts. After a while, Bucky told you about him wanting to be submissive. It threw you off at first, you figured after being mind washed for all those years that he would want to be in control for once.

“Sometimes everything becomes too much and I just want someone to take a little control every once in a while.” Bucky lied with you on one of the many hotel beds you’ve been in together.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, James. I understand, I’ll do it. I was always good at getting you on your knees for me.”

“I think I’m gonna go ahead and get to bed. Behave for me will ya?” Natasha smirks and gives you a wink.

“You know me y/n, I like to have a little fun before bed.” You wink back at her and head out to the elevator, with a Bucky Barnes hot on your heels. You didn’t even have to look at him to make him come to you. It won’t be the only time tonight either.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Doll.” It had been a while since the two of you had been in the same room together. So when you both heard you had the weekend off, you couldn’t let that opportunity pass. He’d been worked up and you didn’t want to wait any longer. You loved it when he came without a warning, sometimes waiting can get so boring. You wiped the cum off your hands with your tongue. “Don’t apologize, James, I like how worked up you get.” Bucky chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “Only you do it how I like.”

You and Bucky don’t say anything on the way up to your room. You were lucky enough to have your rooms across from each other, nobody would know that he was secretly with you. It was like a routine, a dance between the two of you. Bucky undressed and waited for your command. You walk around him in circles, like he was prey. He wanted you to devour him already.

“On the bed.” He grew an erection immediately. Just by your three simple words. He did as he was told like a good soldier. He even held his hands above his head without having to be told. You straddle his waist as you tie him up. Bucky shuts his eyes tight, he knows he won’t last long with the way you look, fully dressed and slightly grazing him where he needed you most.

You smirk and grind your hips roughly, causing Bucky to throw his head back hard into the pillow. It was as if somebody knocked the wind out of him. His eyes shot open and he swore there was nothing more beautiful than the sight above him. You smiling down at him, your hair coming down loosely. He wasn’t going to last long. You could feel him squirming slightly underneath you. “Y/n, please.”

“Name?”

“Nova.” When you and Bucky weren’t back at the compound, you were in different hotels. Using different names at hotel check-ins. It was routine. Being together for the night, just to feel something. You wanted to be in control and Bucky was more than happy to be controlled by you. You hadn’t realized how much you enjoyed it, having him this way. He could easily take control if he wanted to. But you had him at your mercy, and you were an addict for him.

You were never the sentimental type, but there was something about the way he looked right now for you tonight. Tied up and an absolute mess. You wanted to keep him like this forever. “You make me wanna take a picture of you, James.” You were completely naked for him now. His erection trapped in between your folds, you raked your nails up and down his arms and chest. You made sure to take your time with his metal arm. Made sure he knew that all of him deserved to feel good tonight. “All tied up and wrecked because of me.” Bucky rolled his hips forward to get some sort of friction from you. You held his hips down and tsked. “Be a good soldier now Barnes.” You could make a movie with him that you both would have to hide.

Bucky grunted and threw his head back in frustration. “The things you do to me, Doll.”

You kiss your way up to his neck, “Don’t get sentimental on me James.”

You’d been ignoring bucky all day. It was one of those days where everyone just kind of kept to themselves. You read a few books and paid no mind to Bucky when he walked in the room. You didn’t even look at him when you two were alone in the library. You could feel his eyes on you every second. You could feel how squirmy he was because of it. Even when he caught up with you on the elevator, you simply pulled out your phone and acted like it was the most interesting thing to you. It pained Bucky to not be able to reach out to you. It was torture not having you all over him, your hands pulling at his hair, grabbing his waist, and dragging him to your room. He almost went back to his room, but before he reached the doorknob he looked back at you one last time. He was surprised to see you staring back at him, then you entered your room without closing the door behind you. He took that as an invitation.

Once he closes the door behind him he grabs you and pins you against the door. “Look at me when we’re alone, please.” You knew it wouldn’t take much to get him going. You knew it was torture though. He kissed you like you could one day slip away. “I know, I know.”

You were glad that these walls were soundproof. The noises he was pulling out of you, the sounds he made in your ear. It was like a song you never got tired of hearing. The way he stretched you out, yet fit inside you so perfectly. This was all you needed. He was all you needed. If anybody saw you two this way, you don’t know what they would think. The Winter Soldier begging to come. Moaning out your name. You squeeze around him at the thought. “Fuck! If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last much longer.” You lean in closer to him and squeeze around him once more. “Promise?”

Bucky couldn’t get enough of you, he left hickeys anywhere his mouth could reach. “You leave a strong impression don’t you Barnes?” It might be more of an obsession.

“Anyone see you?” He layed you down softly on the bed.

“No, you?” There was a slight knot in your stomach. You didn’t understand it.

“No.” Bucky continued his assault on your breast.

They won’t see me in your arms, you thought.

You’re not sentimental but there’s something about the way he looks tonight. Desperate, aching, and all yours. You could feel bucky tense up beneath you so you decided to drag this out a little longer. You rocked your hips back and forth slowly. Taking his cock in and out of you torturously slow. “Please Doll.” You’ll never get tired of hearing him beg.

“Who do you belong to?” You started to slam into him and Bucky saw stars.

“I won’t repeat myself, James.” You squeezed his throat gently.

“You! I belong to you y/n! Fuck.” You were going to be the death of him.

“Good Soldier.”

Sometimes you thought about being with Bucky. What it would be like to not have to sneak around and just be with each other. You wondered if Bucky thought the same. You wanted everyone to know the people you two became when you’re alone together. Even make them jealous for a change.

‘What are you thinking about?” You layed in Bucky’s arms, not having the energy to go back to your room yet. If you were being honest with yourself, you enjoyed the feeling of being in Bucky’s arms. The coolness of his metal arm with the warmth of his body. You stayed silent for a while. Debating whether or not to tell him the truth.

“That I’m the only one who does it how you like.”

You climb off of him and ride his thigh instead. Bucky whimpers and stares at you. He could feel how wet you are. You lean down and leave hickeys on his hips roughly. Once you are satisfied you climb completely off him and leave him hard and bare. He takes in a deep breath and pulls against his restraints. It was torture, but you both loved it. Bucky shuts his eyes again. ‘Please.” It won’t take much to get him going. “I know, I know.”

You walk around to the foot of the bed, fully naked. You saw your masterpiece. He was a work of art to you. The way his chest rose, the redness in his cheeks. The trail of your lips splattered all across his body. You were obsessed.

Bucky can hear your soft footsteps. He doesn’t dare look, he knows he won’t last long if he does.

“Look at me a little more James.” It took everything in him not to come the moment he saw you. He could see the wetness dripping from your cunt. The small hickeys covering your body, the ones he left. You were worth waiting for. He was obsessed.

His heavy breathing could have you on the floor. You watched him look your body up and down like it was a piece of art. You didn’t have to say anything, Bucky knew what you wanted. He wanted it too.

“I’m yours.”

You weren’t sentimental, but tonight there was something about him.

“I’m yours.”

[mercy-burning]

My Forever — Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Eve reunite over dinner, and Y/N can’t help but feel like old, strangely familiar feelings are coming back. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, sexual themes, use of vibrator, exhibitionism Word Count: 3.4k

MAIN MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

NOTE: Thank you all for being so patient with me! After Thanksgiving I just got this huge surge of inspiration, and I feel like writing everything and anything all at once, so I finally got to finish this! I’ve also decided that I need to add another chapter to My Forever, so instead of 4 parts you’ll be getting 5!

———

I've been a nervous wreck all day.

Earlier in the morning I confirmed that last night hadn't actually been a dream, and Spencer verified his upcoming presence at dinner— enthusiastically, I might add...

I find it strange that I seem to be the only one who's nervous about this whole thing. I mean, I can understand why Mom and Adam are less weirded out; Mom made decent points last night, whether I want to accept them or not. To her, Spencer had only broken up with her because he wasn't in love with her anymore, and he was upfront and kind about it. To her, that was likely the best breakup she's ever had. Now she's moved on, she's been happily married for years, and if they're both willing to see each other without any hard feelings and stay friends, why the fuck not?

Only, Spencer and I both know something that she and Adam don't. And while it might be okay for all of us to remain civil, things might start to get a little weird if it comes out that I'm fucking my mom's ex-boyfriend. Or that I've fucked him before, while they were still together.

He seems to think we can pull it off, but it just feels like more of the same of what we did seven years ago. As exhilarating as being with him is, all it does is send me into high alert.

So much so that when he knocks on the door that evening, I jump— actually jump. But not in the way Mom jumps. She's actually excited, launching off the couch next to Adam where she grabs his hand and drags him to the door.

"Oh, I can't wait for you two to meet! This is exciting, isn't it?"

"I'm sure he's awesome," Adam responds, quite genuinely.

I, on the other hand, can't help but keep my hands busy at all times, pulling at a few loose threads of my sweatshirt. I'm also wearing a pair of loose jeans and praying that keeping myself quiet and unassuming will pay off. The last thing I need is Spencer getting distracted.

Speaking of, the second I hear his voice calling my mother's name in a bright, friendly and almost nostalgic way, my stomach lurches. Immediately my instincts are telling me to run and pretend that I'm sick or something— anything to keep from having to deal with this mess.

But that's the thing. It isn't a mess.

In fact, it's such a clean slate that I can practically see the glowing shine radiating from their corner of the room. Hugs and handshakes are exchanged, Names are introduced, and smiles are genuine and unwavering. I feel like if I get thrown in the mix I'll just contaminate them, quickly drowning them in my reservation, and then everything will be ruined.

Still, Mom calls me over, and my legs tread forward despite their hesitation.

When Spencer looks at me, the heat flooding to my face is instantaneous. He greets me with a, "Hey, you," friendly enough, and a smile that nearly makes it impossible to stand. "Thanks for the call."

"Well, it was Mom's idea, so... Thank her."

All three of them laughed at my words, but with them I'd hoped to convey to Spencer just how much I still don't fully approve of this idea.

Whether he gets the message or not, I'm not sure. But his lingering smile obliterates me all the same, and all I can really do now is hope for the best.

———

Turns out, I had been foolish to think anything I could do would be good enough to keep his antics to himself.

Mom and Adam are going into excruciating detail about how they first met, a story I've heard too many times I could practically recite it from memory, when Spencer's hand finds its way to my knee. I suppose it's innocent enough, so at first I don't think much of it.

Again... Foolish.

His long fingers slowly travel inwards and up, until they're drawing patterns on my thigh. Even through thick denim, it makes my skin feel hot.

I gently kick his foot under the table, hoping to get him to knock it off, but the gesture only increases his need for mischief. His hand squeezes the surface of my inner thigh and in the corner of my peripheral I can see him grin a little wider. Mom wouldn't know the difference, and Adam is too caught up looking at her like a lovesick puppy that he wouldn't have picked up on it even if he could.

Minutes go by, I sip gently on the wine in front of me, and Mom finishes her story with bright eyes and nostalgia in her smile as she addresses Spencer.

"God, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I've been talking your ear off this long and you haven't stopped me."

"Oh, it's not a problem, Eve. I'm really glad to see you so happy."

"Well, you don't look too unhappy yourself," she says with a nod. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Not at the moment," he says, squeezing my thigh again. His thumb swipes gently over a pilled knot in my jeans, and my stomach forms a knot of its own. "But I'm good. School keeps me busy, and things are better than they've been in a while."

"Oh, well that's lovely to hear."

"School, huh?" Adam says. "Eve tells me you used to teach, you still doing that?"

Spencer goes on to talk with Adam about his job and what he used to do before teaching, and all the while I can't help the heat that floods through my body when his hand shifts just a little higher, enough so that his thumb can reach the crease of my thigh.

I try to distract myself by eating as his thumb moves in closer and closer, but if he keeps this up I'm going to end up choking. So instead, I settle on biting my lip and staring down at my fork.

Unsurprisingly, one more kick under the table does nothing to stop him, and in one swift motion, his whole hand manages to cup my crotch without raising suspicion. And all the while, he's speaking easily with Adam like he's done it a million times before, not a hitch in his voice or a single breath out of place.

My breathing, however, is a struggle. I'm trying to keep it steady, but when his middle finger starts to trace the inseam of my jeans, it takes everything I have not to let out a huge whine at the shiver that runs through me.

Right now, the only thing keeping me grounded is the damn fork next to my plate.

Speaking of, Mom's voice rings through the dining room like a siren, and I nearly jump at my name blurting past her lips. "Y/N, you're spaced out and you've hardly touched your food. You feeling okay?"

Spencer's hand retreats entirely, and I feel a weight lift off my chest.

"Yeah," I say, clearing my throat. "Sorry, I'm fine. It's just a little weird seeing you two in the same room again, that's all."

"I understand, sweetheart... But hey, look on the bright side, we're all getting along, right? No hard feelings."

Everyone exchanges glances around the table, and I swear it's like God is playing a sick joke on me. Of course I'm glad Mom is confident that she and her husband can get along with her ex after all these years. But when she doesn't know that he's actually fucking her daughter on the down low, it's unsurprisingly extremely annoying trying to hide my panic the whole time while everyone is getting along swimmingly like nothing is happening behind the curtain. Not to mention exhausting.

And the worst part is, I can't find it in myself to say no. To put a stop to it.

I could very well excuse myself and pretend to be sick. It would be easy enough for me to get out of dinner tonight, or to even tell Spencer before the night is over that I genuinely don't want to keep going like this...

But damn it, I'm right back to seven summers ago, sitting at this exact table while Mom is blissfully unaware of whet me and Spencer are doing...

And it's electrifying, having his attention actually focused on me while he fools everyone into thinking he's paying attention to them. I know that I'm taking up so much space in his brain that he can't help but keep a hand on me at all times. He will do anything, find any way, to touch me and feel my body react to him. Maybe it's a possession thing or maybe he genuinely can't get enough of me, but whatever the case, it does something to the bone-deep parts of my soul l that I can't quite extinguish.

Which is why, when we finally look each other in the eye, I touch him back, hating that I can't get enough of him either. My hand brushes up against his knee and I smile.

"No hard feelings."

———

It's possibly the worst idea Mom has ever had, or possibly the best. Depending on how you look at it.

Though, I have to admit, when she and Adam offered to get the movie room downstairs set up for a spur of the moment movie night, leaving Spencer and I on popcorn duty, my heart sped up like it used to every time I'd get a moment alone with him seven years ago. And judging by the look on his face, I can tell he's feeling the same.

We're putting dishes in the dishwasher when Mom and Adam finally step downstairs, and for a moment, aside from the dishes and the faucet as we rinse them, the room is utterly silent.

It's like every movement I take is on a bed of sheer, thin ice that could give way at any moment. I keep waiting for his weight to come along and drag us under the surface.

But we finish loading the dishwasher, I hand him a towel, and surprisingly he doesn't seem like he's willing to risk exposure.

That is, until he actually takes the towel from me and pulls me into him before I can let go.

Our lips crash together seamlessly, like they already know the way. The towel drops between us and Spencer walks me backwards until my body runs into the kitchen counter. His hands are in my hair, messing up what I'd already done to make it look somewhat unappealing in hopes that he'd retreat from me tonight.

A part of me is ashamed to say it, but I'm really glad it didn't work.

I let myself submit to him once more, opening my mouth for him to kiss me however he pleases. He opts for the sweeter route, using his tongue to meet mine with a gentle, silent declaration of something stronger than just attraction. It's a feeling I haven't experienced in years, and the fact that it's happening under the same roof as before is bringing back a rush of urgency and desperate need to be all-consumed by him.

So my arms sling over his shoulders and pull him closer, willing him to be all over me for as long as he can. His response is a surge forward of the hips, their weight causing my own to buckle and my right leg to lift up. He brings an arm down and grabs my thigh, hoisting it up over his hip, and my ankle presses firmly into his ass, hoping to keep him near. The other leg follows, and soon enough Spencer is lifting me up onto the counter.

My hands find their way down to his belt without thinking, and I can feel him laugh against my lips, pulling away just far enough to take their pressure off of mine.

"What's so funny," I grumble. "If we're gonna do this now, we have to be quick, we don't have time for laughs."

"We're not going to do this now," he corrects, pecking my lips and taking my wrists gently in his hands. "I just wanted to kiss you. Greet you properly."

I don't know why, but that sentiment floods my chest with warmth. And also a bit of stupidity.

"Oh... Right. Sorry."

"Mmm, don't be," he returns with another small laugh. He kisses me again, this time more firmly, and my eyes flutter shut at the sensation. When he pulls away I all but whimper at his absence. "It's cute that you're all excited to see me."

I sigh and jump down from the counter, avoiding his eye as I push past him to grab the pot we need for popcorn. "Yeah, well... Your antics under the table weren't helping."

"Oh, speaking of... I got you something."

I pause on my way to the cupboard, not entirely sure what that has to do with presents. It's entirely possible he's just not great at segueing, but when I see the device in his hand, stretched out towards me, I stop in my tracks.

"What the hell is that?"

"Well," he says with a grin, "I was going to ask you to wear it on the date I have planned for us tomorrow, but... Your mom has impeccable timing."

After a few seconds of silence, I stomp my foot as gently as I can without alerting her. "Spencer, I am not wearing that thing downstairs! Are you kidding?"

"Oh, come on, we've been more... scandalous than this..." The amused lilt in his voice makes me want to knock out those pretty teeth. "Besides, you were just willing let me fuck you on the kitchen counter... This is more discreet."

I know he's right, but still... I'm not sure I want to let him control a vibrator in my pants for however long this movie we end up watching is...

Or do I?

The look on his face and the fire settling deep within my core are more convincing than I'd like. But they're like magnets, pulling me down the path of destruction... Beautiful, glorious destruction.

Against my better judgement, I snatch the device from his hand and sigh. "Let me get changed... You know where the popcorn is."

Before I can walk past him, he stops me and presses another kiss to my temple. "Can you get away for the whole day tomorrow?"

I can't help the smile that spreads over my face. "Depends... How easy are you gonna go on me tonight?"

"Hmmm... I'll see what I can do."

———

"I'll see what I can do," my ass...

This movie hasn't been on for more than twenty minutes, and I'm already near the point of orgasm. It doesn't help that It's incredibly hot down here, even with what little central air comes through the vents. I want to spread out in a chair or the couch to cool myself off, but with people around and this fucking vibrator up my cunt, I'm stuck cowering in the corner of the couch, pretending to cuddle up into a pillow so it just looks like I'm tired.

I suppose I could excuse myself for bed, say I'm tired, and then take the damn thing out, but knowing Spencer, he'll sweetly tell me goodnight and then continue to control the damn thing until I can get away to take it out. Or I'll get a text telling me to keep it in, or something else...

Just before I can decide what to do, I feel the coil snap and send me into a frenzy of shivers. I bite down onto my hand to keep from making any sound, and nearly yelp when the vibrations turn up a notch.

"Hon, you okay?" Mom leans in and whispers. "You look like you're freezing."

"Y—Yep, just cold... I'm alright though."

"You sure?"

"M-hm."

She pats my knee and then turns back to Adam, and I can see Spencer grinning on the other side of me. He's sitting in the lounge chair in the corner of the room, a hand in his pocket while the other props his chin up. His eyes are glued to the TV, but he glances at me for a split second before turning the vibrator off completely.

Relief washes over me, and then a quick blanket of anxiety as I wait for the inevitable moment where he turns it on again, most likely at the highest setting.

I can almost hear his voice in my head, saying, "You really think so low of me, princess?" and I almost blurt out, "Yes," in his direction.

But somehow it's like he can read my mind and he wants to prove me wrong. Or maybe I'm just an awful judge of character. Because minutes and more minutes go by, the movie is almost over, and I haven't felt anything at all except for a low vibration during a rather intense action sequence.

I glance over at him to see that he's perfectly content, watching the movie and paying me no mind. Not even a grin on his face or a hand in his pocket.

I'm out of the woods.

Well... At least I'd thought so.

Just when the movie ends and Adam says the command that turns the lights back on, the vibrator clicks on a medium setting, and I hang my head, cursing the universe for bringing Spencer back into my life.

"What'd you think?" Adam asks brightly towards his direction. "It's one of my favorites."

"You know, I can't believe I hadn't seen it before. It's good."

Mom laughs. "I can. You didn't watch any movies with me unless they were in Russian."

"Guilty... But be fair, I don't watch much of anything these days. You know me, I'm more of a reader."

The three of them continue to talk about books, all of which I couldn't tell if I'd heard of or not since I was too focused on trying not to moan out loud. The longer the conversation goes on the more I'm convinced Spencer is only dragging it farther to prolong my torture. More than likely he's trying to get me to come again, and honestly it's looking like that won't be a problem.

I just hope he can keep Mom and Adam engaged in deep enough conversation that they won't notice and say anything to me about the way I'm tensing.

I'm coming once again in no time, and this time I can't help the small whimper that comes from my mouth. So I do my best to cover it up with a stretch and a yawn, signaling my end for the night.

Spencer seems to get the hint and switches the vibrator off when I stand up.

"As... stimulating as this conversation is, I need to get to bed before I fall asleep down here," I say. Mom and Adam laugh even though they don't understand the irony of my word choice.

"Yeah, I should probably get going, too. Long day ahead of me tomorrow. Let me walk you up?"

I make my way up the stairs while the others say their goodbyes, and part of me prepares for another potential burst of vibrations between my thighs. The only pulsing I feel when I get to the kitchen however, is the loud beating of my heart when it jumps at his sudden touch on my shoulder.

"Why so jumpy, princess?" he asks amusedly.

I punch his arm. "Stop it! I'm taking this thing out and then I'm going to bed, and you can forget about your date tomorrow."

"What, this thing?"

The vibrations start again, only for a few seconds, but it's enough to make me hit him again. "I'm serious!"

"Okay, okay," he says, slinging an arm around my shoulder and kissing the top of my head. "Trust me, I could have been way harder on you in there."

I smile as we walk to the front door. "Yeah, I know... Still sucked though. I was on edge the whole time, wondering when you were gonna torture me."

He tugs me closer and spins me to meet him chest to chest. "That's kinda the whole point." And then with a love-drunk, beautiful grin, he leans in and kisses me softly. My body is aching at this point, but it still finds a way to fall into him with ease.

"So what do you say... Think you can spare some time for me tomorrow?"

"Like I could ever say no to you," I whisper against his lips, kissing him once more before making myself pull away. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, princess.”

———

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