#preview to my debut hoping to get this fic out this week or so

[lucidpantone]

So a couple years back I wrote this fanfic that was sorta of hit for another fandom(wtfock or belgium skam). I’ve been wanting to write something for young royals for awhile but I knew I wanted to do it in that similar style of that past fic because people seemed to LOVE that parallel puzzle piece timeline style. Anyways so surprise surprise gonna be dropping chapter 1 soon but here is a preview. Oh, and one last thing:

Fic Rules

If its in italics its the past

If its not in Italics its the present (particular scenes from the last year)

Into The Blues

We’re all just journeymen in catacombs of the earth’s womb.

Riding life like a log down a stream burrowing through artificial portholes that men sowed into the roots of the city as an act of defiance; when travel above the waterline did not suffice.So instead we defiled her core from the inside out.

Yet, here we find him.The interloper standing shoulder to shoulder in a cigar shaped transport vessel amongst the everyman attempting to blend into a world he no longer belongs too. Sporting garments perfectly hand crafted by french artisans for his physique and leather bound shoes of italian origin.

The commuter populace sways as the ocean does in twilight. Mellow and familiar. Unobstructed and in uniformity.

The conductor breaks his mental surface.

“Mind the gap between the train and the platform. This is Green Park.”

He navigates the route towards an exit. He is late but he insisted on venturing into the world as the common folks do.

This isn’t his side of town and if given a choice he wouldn’t have hosted the Royals Arts Gala here but the honorees were swedish alums of The Royal Academy Art who were funded by the Swedish Royals Arts Foundation so a marriage of both Swedish and British houses had to be decided and London seemed to appeal to a wider audience.

He scurries out of underground to street level when the harsh cold air hits him. A loving reminder he thinks to himself.

Reality gnaws at him when he sees it. The Ritz Hotel signage glowing back at him.

A wave of guilt washes over him from sins past and yet here he finds himself once again running towards his mistakes atop a pair of italian soles that would entice even the top ranks of the Bourgeoisie.

He picks up pace and jettisons towards the Grand Ballroom as tear drops begin to fall from the heavens.

You’d think after years of exposure to all this pomp and circumstance he’d be used to the classic french rococo style but it still feels so grandiose at times.  Banquet rooms adorned with gold leaf walls, gilded oak paneling richly embellished with C-scrolls and S-scrolls, sprigs of flowers, rocaille motifs and hand painted frescos. 18th century crystal chandeliers prevailing in their usage to light an avarice crowd of thespians devouring the fruits of France's champagne region like it was manna from heaven.

But he needn’t worry tonight because these throngs of acolytes were here to bear witness to his recital of one sacrosanct individual.

However, before he stood atop a podium for his song and dance routine he kept his interactions with the crowd wrapped up in an air of breviloquence and wit.

He’d be expected to frolic amongst the flock and express his gratuity for the copious amounts of flowers, gift baskets and condolences sent his way. Though arduous work, he had an inert sensibility when it came to working a room of uppercrust socialites after years of conditioning.

“Hello sir, this way please” a gala usher quickly takes his coat and escorts him to his table for the evening when an unfamiliar sensation reemerges from eons past. A fibrillation in his heart, one mimicking that of a  hummingbird in fast pursuit. He hadn’t had much time to ponder this strange occurrence when he noticed the guest at his table standing up to greet him.

Anders Olsson was the first to lock gaze with him. He greeted him with an overworked smile and spread out arms welcoming him into a fast embrace.

“Am so happy you came” Anders whispered in his ear softly as he pushed off from their hug.

Then Anders immediately went around the table introducing him to the director of the Royal Academy who gave him an assertive handshake, the other honorees who’s displays of dominance were absent and meekly greeted him,the gala’s main sponsors two Americans one of which was sat next to him and felt the need to remind him that she was a hugger and gave him a good squeeze before he could even object, and lastly the person sitting directly to his left the head of the Swedish Royals Arts Foundation.

“Prince Wilhelm, this is Simon Bancroft-Erikksen, Tomas’s husband” Anders confirms.

“Hey”, Wilhelm states softly as he embraces Simon’s handshake with a dual hand handshake creating an over-under type of shelter for Simon’s touch.

Simon’s notices Wilhelm linger and slides his hand back slowly.

“Hi” Simon says softly as he musters his best subdued smile for his highness.

As Simon takes a seat he notices a few patrons looking directly at him as they cover their mouths and about his recent life updates. Forgetting for a moment that he is “that” guy now.

Simon Bancroft-Erikksen, a swedish born singer/composer, recent widower to the late Tomas Åström Bancroft and now sole heir to the Bancroft banking fortune. A fortune worth more than some countries GDP.

It was like looking through a lens but fish eyed, distorted and misshapen.

Lacking distinction, and depth, an exam based on muscle memory and repetition. A performance of sorts.

“Simon, how are you?”, They asked with a worry in their voice that had become oh so familiar.

“Am good”

“Simon, are you getting enough sleep?” This was definitely somewhere in the top 3 questions as of late.

*Shrugs*

“Are you eating?” and this question? This one usually led to a non sequitur from him.

“Oh pardon me. I see a colleague, I must run to say hello too.” This was Simon’s cue to beeline it back to his table and avoid the thickets of bullshit he had to spatter.

Simon plopped himself back down on his seat and took a deep exhale.

“I brought reinforcements,” Simon heard him say.

Wilhelm shot him a sweet smile as he picked out a small plastic bag from his blazer.

Simon’s eyes widened and for the first time tonight and he genuinely smiled.

Simon couldn’t decide which one to choose from so he went for his usual sweet and salty licorice. Swedish candy had become Simon’s main food source throughout this period in his life. It was one of the only things he could stomach to keep down. That and mandarins.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”

“I had an inclination that you may need backup.”

Simon shook his head in agreement.

“You’re doing great,by the way” Wilhelm encouraged Simon somewhat gingerly.

The ballroom lights dimmed and the ceremony got underway.

Notable honorees received their totems of recognition from high society.

And then a darkness befell them and he felt the room surround him and suddenly there he was in full technicolor. Tomas and Anders discussing the inspiration for what would become Tomas’s final commissioned symphony.

It was a strange sensation for Simon. In many ways he thought he had become infallible to public displays of sorrow. He’d numbed himself to a point of no return, gone full scorched earth, become some sort of cultural philistine with a match in his hand walking on gas ready to ignite the pain away.

Pay no credence to his grief.

Yet, The chinks in his armor began to chime through the air like a siren’s song.

Without notice Simon’s body began to react badly. His hands began to shake as Tomas’s voice filled the room. He hid his hands underneath the table but the shaking only worsened and as Simon was about to deploy his metaphorical airbag and abort this mission. Wilhelm tethered him back down to earth. Threw him a safety line and kept him at bay and from floating away. Wilhelm took a hold of Simon’s hand and interlaced his fingers into Simons.

Simon was fully prepared to shoot Wilhelm a rather terse glance when suddenly the lights went up and the crowd stood up for a standing ovation. Wilhelm pulled Simon up with the crowd and let go of his hand to indulge in the clapping.

Ander’s walked over to him and before he knew it they were walking in the direction of the podium. Simon wasn’t taken aback by this gesture if anything he expected. He had written a speech and all but it was all happening so fast. The spotlight flashed atop of him and he stood there looking out at a sea of onlookers.

He pulled the mic towards him and reached into his blazer pocket to read from a cue card.

“Firstly, I would like to say thank you for the beautiful in memoriam segment and to everyone who has sent their condolences to my family throughout the last year.

My husband Tomas was a kind and thoughtful soul who truly inspired me and many others. When he began this consortium project he felt a great responsibility to represent the cultural richness of the great landmarks of Sweden. His music was merely a vehicle to explore what he felt in his heart was an undeniably beautiful landscape filled with everlasting summers and a wonderful winter wonderland. Except for those 4 months in the dead of winter which we don’t talk about.”

The crowd broke out in laughter. 

“Thank you for honoring Tomas’s legacy and to the Swedish Royals Arts Foundation for recognizing his accomplishments, To the Royal Academy for their constant support and to the Bancroft foundation for their relentless advocacy in forestry conservation.”

Applause raptured around the ballroom.

As Simon stepped back from the mic his heart rate adjusted and he looked out into the crowd for a tether back into the normal world. The one where he once felt he belonged to, had a home in, fell in love in and felt like he could operate within without fear or reservations.

As Simon walked off stage he felt a tug, a reel, a life line leading him to a sanctuary where he could be caught and released out of these predatory waters. This wildlife was foreign to him now. He needed to live in a habitat where the aquamarine life was curated and made out of plastic.

He needed everything to be fake, to go to a place where he could be inoculated from his reality. Where none of the people were real and just made out of metal.

There was only one exception to this rule.

As he took his seat again and looked to his left; it was all gut, an unfathomable feeling, a pavlovian response as he reached out underneath the table and took hold of Wilhelm’s hand and thought to himself.

This, and only this, he needed to be real.

[lomlhwa]

vocal training (k.th)

paring: vocal coach!taehyun x idol!reader

preview: you've been working with taehyun for the past year and a half to improve your voice for your debut. after so much time building tension, taehyun finds that he has a... different sound that he wants to hear come out of you. maybe even help you relieve some stress about your upcoming debut.

tags/warnings: fem reader, reader is so oblivious to taehyun's crush on her, so much kissing, taehyun consent king, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, fingering, auralism, hair pulling, praise, degrading, pet names (baby, doll, babe, my love, good girl, slut), unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), orgasm denial, reader just getting bent over taehyun's mixing desk, creampie

trigger warnings: kinda unconsensual audio recording but it's literally only mentioned right at the end.

wc: 1.5k

song recs for this fic: perfume by dojaejung, la girls by charlie puth, my house by 2pm, deja vu by ateez, they wanna fuck by kim petras, dangerous woman by ariana grande

a/n: if you want your pussy domestically abused, hit my line. with that, nevvie out 🫡

you try again to hit the falsetto taehyun’s been trying to get out of you. yet again, your voice breaks right before you hit the right note. you rip the headphones off and groan in frustration. 

you've been trying to hit this note for weeks. the one time you managed to hit it, you weren't even recording. you'd come into the studio early to practice, in hopes you'd be able to impress your coach by hitting the note first try when he gets here. he always made you feel special when you managed to hit a difficult note. hugs, kisses on the cheek, anything to be mildly touchy. 

you almost thought he might have a crush on you. but why would your vocal coach like you as anything more than his student or his friend? you had started to like taehyun because of his touchy-ness but you would never tell him. there’s no way he would see you the same way.

he arrives at the studio to see you sitting on the floor beyond frustrated with yourself. you bang your head against the sound proofed wall behind you, trying to figure out what you’re doing wrong. he giggles to himself before opening the door to the recording room. 

“you’re belting. you’re supposed to just let it flow, baby,” taehyun says as he opens the door to the recording room where you currently reside. you sigh and throw your lyric sheets in his general direction. “i don’t know how to not belt it,” you groan and shove your face in your hands. 

he gets behind you as best he can and hooks his arms under your armpits, lifting you up off the floor. “a falsetto is a head voice tone and you, doll, are using your chest voice. you just gotta shift where you’re singing from and you’ll hit it,” he puts the headphones back on your head, readjusting the mic to your level. he demonstrates the note with his own head voice, impressing you in the process. the fact that your male vocal coach can hit female falsettos never fails to amaze you. 

he walks back out of the recording room, settling into his chair in front of the mixing board. “i don’t think i’m physically capable of doing that,” you say into the mic, your voice booming into the other room. he laughs before pressing the intercom button and saying, “babe, i know you’re capable. you’re just pushing yourself too hard.” you whine, not wanting to keep trying.

“alright, come on, head voice,” he reminds you, “i know you’ve got that note somewhere in that beautiful voice of yours.” you do a couple vocal warm ups to prepare to try and get yourself into your head voice. he cues the backtrack and you wait a moment for your cue to sing. you sing the first couple of verses with no mistakes. a small musical bridge hits and you prepare yourself to sing your high note. but, much to your dismay, your voice cracks again, ruining this part of the recording. 

you throw the headphones off and yell, which takes over the other room’s sounds. you throw your pages around again, losing your cool. “y/n, come out here please,” taehyun says over the intercom. you trudge out of the studio and out to face your vocal coach. “you’re still belting,” you open your mouth to retort with some smartass comment but he pulls you onto his lap, wrapping arm around your waist to caress your back. 

“if you keep forcing the note, you’re going to ruin your vocal chords. we don’t want that right before your debut, do we, doll?” he sounds so condescending that it sends chills down your spine. he wraps both arms around you, pulling you down to rest your full body weight on his hardened member. you look at him, your mouth slightly agape and your eyes wide. 

“taehyun what are you-” he shakes his head, shushing you. he grips your hips with his hands, rocking you back and forth in his lap. your hands find purchase on his shoulders to keep yourself grounded. his hands fall away and your hips continue on their own. taehyun holds your jaw with one of his hands, forcing you to look at him. a small groan falls from your lips at the contact. 

“do you want some… extra voice training?” he asks. you know what he really means and your mind is so foggy that all you can do is not and make a small noise of agreement. “i need words, baby,” he says, tracing your throat and jawline with his pointer finger. he shifts you over to his thigh before flexing it, sending a spike of pleasure through you. “yes! yes please,” you cry out. 

he breathes out a few curses before connecting your lips. his lips are plump and soft. he licks over your bottom lip, relishing in the taste of your cherry chapstick. you catch the tip of his tongue between your lips, giving it a harsh suck before welcoming it into your mouth fully. 

his hand travels down to the small of your back to encourage you to rock your hips on his thigh. you let out a shaky breath as taehyun helps you set a steady pace. you hold his face in your hands as he kisses down your neck, licking over the spots where dark marks are sure to appear. “that’s it, baby. use me to get off,” he says, his voice low and raspy. his words send a new jolt of pleasure through you, your hips picking up their pace. 

“that’s a good girl. good fucking girl,” his groans against your ear. your hands move from his face to the back of his neck, tugging on his hair. “go on, doll, cum for me.” your hips stutter as your high crashes over you. taehyun talks you through it, whispering small praises about how good you are for him. 

“i would love to taste you, but i think i might explode if i’m not inside you in the next 30 seconds.” that’s the only warning he gives you before getting you off his lap and bent over his mixing desk. he reaches over to turn off the mixer, not wanting your bodyweight to accidentally mess with something. he tugs your pants down to your ankles, not even bothering to take them off you fully. 

his finger traces the wet patch on your panties before tugging your panties off too. he grabs your hair, tugging your head back before saying; “i’m going to fuck you until you can hit the fucking high note.” your eyes roll into the back of your head as he shoves into you. he sheathes himself fully, but doesn’t move. you wiggle around, trying to get something out of him.

“sing the note,” he emphasizes his words with a thrust accompanying each word. you clear your throat, preparing your voice box to try and hit the note he wants. when your voice cracks again, he lets out a sinister laugh. “aww, you stupid slut. guess you don’t get to cum,” he tugs your hair again before setting a borderline abusive pace. the sounds of skin slapping and your high pitched moans fill the room.

“oh so you can moan at the right pitch but you can’t fucking sing at the right pitch? absolutely pathetic,” his words have an extremely mean tone and it makes you clench around him. he makes a ‘tsk’ sound when you clench. he jerks your head back again, leaning down to kiss you. your ass jiggles when he thrusts harder into you. you groan against his mouth, your high creeping up on you.

“gonna-mmf cum,” you manage to say. he shakes his head, pulling away from your lips. “ah, ah, ah, i don’t think so,” he stops all his movements, causing your high to begin to fall away. you make a crying sound, whining at him denying you your second orgasm. 

“hit. the. fucking. note,” he growls. you look into his eyes; his pupils are blown and his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead. he has his bottom lip caught between his teeth, admiring your half naked body underneath him. you open your mouth to sing and you finally get the note. 

"i'm so fucking proud of you, my love," his hips pick up their aggressive page again. "i knew you could do it." you squeal, kicking your feet at your sensitivity. you know your high is gonna hit sooner rather than later. you're barely gasping out breaths as he abuses your hole with his throbbing cock. 

you can tell his own orgasm is building at the way his grunts have become louder. "where do you want it, baby?" he asks, basically edging himself to wait for your answer. "i-inside p-please taehyun," you mutter, your orgasm crashing into you like a tsunami. 

he hits you with one last thrust before filling you up to the brim with his seed. he admires the way your wet, hot sex keeps him swallowed in, sucking him dry. you finally collapse on the mixing board, your arms too worn out to keep holding your torso up.

"hey, let's get you home," taehyun says while pulling your pants and underwear back up your legs. "but don't i have to hit the note on recording?" you ask, confused while he helps you stumble to the door.

"you already did. i was recording the whole time."

© lomlhwa 2023

[shadowsong26fic]

Coming Attractions!

I haven’t gone to bed yet so it still counts as Monday, lol. XD

Plug for my writing discord--it’s pretty quiet, but mostly intended to be a slightly more interactive version of this blog.

Also, open question night, though I can’t promise I’ll get to it before tomorrow ((I also still owe at least one prompt fill from a meme I reblogged like...a week ago...))

Anyway.

This is going to be short because I got very little done last month, whoops.

Star Wars:

- Not really much has changed from last month; still poking at Precipice!verse and possible ideas for next year’s SWBB. Pretty much everything else is on the back burner.

BSG:

- Didn’t get as much writing done as I’d hoped over the last month. But in order to Motivate myself, I’m going to shoot for a Halloween debut for The Other Battlestar, which means I need to finish. Like. Naming people. And come up with a title I actually like, lol...

- Maybe I’ll do some preview/etc. posts here as bonus content; giving some details about the fourish OCs who will end up playing major roles? To both keep me on task/motivated and hopefully pique some interest...we’ll see.

Castlevania:

- If I could just get this next chapter to cooperate, lol. There are so many things I want to get to! I just have to get past that...

Original Fic:

- I don’t think I wrote anything original this month, alas. Other than poking at things in my head, as one does. I did go to a library booksale, which reminded me that I have at least three half-planned projects that I need to finish researching (an alternate history where Henry VIII dies in 1536; a novel about Judas Iscariot; a novel about What If Mordred Was A Girl) so maybe I’ll see some movement on that front. For the stuff I already post on an origfic community on Dreamwidth, I really should. like. post something plot-advancing, shouldn’t I...

NaNo Plans:

I’m still figuring out exactly how I want to play it this year. And I think a lot of it depends on what I get done re: TOB and Incinctus and Protectors/Preludes over this month, because I might decide to just narrow my focus onto one of them. But most likely I’ll do what I’ve been doing the past few years, which is set myself a wordcount goal (which may or may not be greater than the 50k standard) but I can fill it with Any (fulltext) fiction writing (I think I decided outline/bullet-point form fics counted for 2/3 the wordcount when I did one during NaNo a couple years back? We’ll see if it’s relevant).

...and, yeah, I think that’s about it. Like I said, a short update...hopefully the next time I do this I’ll have more to report!

What are you guys working on?

[shiningloki]

Trials Of Pleasure - NEW FIC COMING SOON!

Trials Of Pleasure - New Fic Preview

(LOKI X READER / PRINCE HAL X READER / SIR THOMAS SHARPE X READER / CAPTAIN JAMES CONRAD X READER / DOCTOR ROBERT LAING X READER / ADAM X READER / JONATHAN PINE X READER)

You want Loki. You always have. You admire his magic. You crave the power he can give you. But most of all, you want to be his pleasure slave. You want to be the one he fucks every day.

After years of unsuccessfully trying to summon Loki, you turn to dark magic. It works and you manage to forcefully bring Loki to you. He’s impressed by your dedication and talent but angered at the way you summoned him. For that reason, Loki is going to make you prove that you are worth all of this trouble. He’s going to see just how willing you are to submit to him and his sexual desires. To do that, he’s going to put you through a series of trials to see if you have what it takes to be his student and his toy.

Your mission is to deliver pleasure to Loki’s “friends” throughout history. You’ll have to find them, please them, fuck them. 

Who are they? The Prince. The Baronet. The Soldier. The Doctor. The Musician. The Spy. 

Loki will send you to the time periods, you’ll just need to find them. Will you be able to survive the peril that comes with searching down these men? Can you give them enough pleasure to prove to Loki that you are worthy of being the woman who warms his bed? Or will you get lost in the timelines without your magic and without a way back home?

Master List

~ ~ ~

My newest chaptered fic is here! Starting one week from now, “Trials Of Pleasure” will premiere on AO3! It’s full of smut, smut, and, well, more smut!! 

Below is a snippet from chapter 1! If you’re interested in being added to the tag list for this fic, just let me know!! Enjoy this little preview and I can’t wait to share this wonderfully smutty adventure with you all!

A preview from Chapter 1: The Spell:

“You, my naughty witch, have severely messed up. You went against the laws of magic in order to bring me here. You must pay for it,” Loki said, stepping back into your personal space. You stepped backwards but he continued to tower over you. “You brought me here so you could learn magic from me, and goodness, be a little sex slave to me. Fine, you can have that, but you have to earn it.”

“Earn it? How?” you asked with wide eyes.

“Easy. I will not just accept any whore to enter into my bed, especially for an extended period of time as you are hoping for. You have to prove that you are capable of delivering pleasure,” Loki explained with a wave of his hand, still wet from your juices. “I have...friends scattered throughout history, men who are good comrades of mine who will determine whether or not you are good enough to be my toy. I can determine your strength as a student, and considering you’ve mastered dark magic enough to force me, the Master Sorcerer into your room, you are extremely talented. But they can help me figure out if your body will be just as valuable as your brains to me. Please them, and I will accept you as mine.”

“Friends? Men throughout history? What does that even mean? How -”

Loki grabbed your face with one large hand. “Do you want this? A life under my wing? A life in my bed? A life with me?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, completely sure of your answer.

“Good. Then this challenge will certainly be exciting. Now, in order to stop you from trying to escape my trials…” Loki moved his hand to your chest and made a grasping motion with his fist. He pulled his fist back and you felt something leave your body. In his fist was a trail of green light. 

“What did you do?” you gasped.

“I took your magic,” Loki said with a shrug. He made a complex movement with his hands and the green light he had stolen from you disappeared. “Pleasure my men and you will get it back. Fail and you will never see me nor your magic ever again.”

You stiffened, terrified of what was about to happen. What would Loki do to you? He was right. You had definitely messed up. The Master of Magic knew you used forbidden magic and now he was punishing you for it through a test of pleasure. But you knew you had to prove him wrong. You had to show him that you wanted him enough to endure his trials and come out victorious. You wanted him. You would have him. You wanted to be his student, his slave, his. You lifted your head and gave him a determined look.

“What do I have to do?” you asked.

“Find my men. Fuck them. Please them. Make me see that it’s worth it to take you in,” Loki explained. He grabbed your arm and pressed two fingers to the inside of your forearm. There was a glimmer and a golden tattoo etched its way onto your skin. You quickly recognized it as Loki’s insignia. He hummed and stroked his thumb over the tattoo. “There. That will help you find them, or rather, help them find you.”

~ ~ ~

“Trials Of Pleasure” will debut on AO3 on December 19th. To be added to the tag list, send me a message, an ask, a comment, or state your interest in a reblog.

[ladyartemesia]

Hi this is anon Min. I was the one who requested you for the jungkook as a boyfriend thingy. I havent been on tumblr recently and for reason i couldnt keep track of your blog. Have you already posted it? I get it if you havent.. its okay take your time. Tysm for acceptin the request btw. I love you and your works.. so yea.. if you have already published it would you mind puttin in the link here. If you havent... im lookin forward omg ik its gonna be awesome. ily. staysafe

HELLO ANON MIN!

I have not posted it yet BUT I WILL. I am working on it currently. I was so happy to accept the request and so flattered you sent it to me 🙈🤗! And oh my gosh THANK YOU for loving me and my work. I love you back 🙈 seriously. Compliments like that just ruin me. I’m so soft! I hope you are safe and well also!

I am afraid that the end of the semester has slowed EVERYTHING down radically cause I have a METRIC TON of grading to finish 🤦🏻‍♀️ and a bunch of end of the year close-outs so I am behind on a lot of things 😭😭 I would like to thank you and everyone else who has been so lovely and patient with me.

Maybe this will help...Here is a (rough/subject to change)-

WIP schedule...

1. In the next couple days (maybe tomorrow) I am posting a ABO(ish)/Hybrid Daechwita Yoongi oneshot set in the Joseon Era.

2. Near the end of the week I am posting my Daechwita Fic Reviews and Recommendations list.

3. I hope to post the JK Boyfriend Headcannon this weekend! (I will tag it as min anon so you can find it easily!)

4. I accepted a commission as part of Changes With Luv to write Football Player Kim Taehyung Makes a Bet With a Rival Team’s Cheerleader that he gets to do whatever he wants to her if his team wins (and vice versa) and I hope to have that out next week.

5. The Mentor (preview available now) should be out that weekend(ish) 6/27

depending on both my mood and muse, the release date for the Tae fic and the Mentor might be swapped... this is actually pretty likely... maybe...

6. The Chance, the Jin-centric sequel to The Choice set in the same universe (different OC) should be posted the week of the 28th. I also hope to debut the entire Cardinal Kingdoms masterlist at that point as well.

7. Then second chapter of Heat Run should be out by the weekend (or close to it) of July 4th. Updates to Heat Run will be much more regular starting then.

8. The Chase, the Jimin centric sequel to The Choice and The Chance (same universe, different OC again) will come out in the middle of July.

9. A Jin Rec List and a Yoongi Rec List were requested awhile ago. They will come out in July.

10. Strawberry Fields Forever - a Tae soulmate/ghost story/past lives AU written for Solaris’s summer fic collab will be written in July for an early August debut.

11. Love in Handcuffs with Cheerios - a Joon Friends-to-Lovers fic is coming out in July.

12. A (potentially NSFW) sequel to PARK JIMIN HAS SEEN MY GRANNY PANTIES should be out in July.

13. At least 2-3 more chapters of Heat Run (potentially all chapters) will be posted in July/early August.

14. There is a JK reality dating show request that I have a couple good ideas for, but until I am truly inspired, it’s on the back burner.

This is a TENTATIVE schedule. And I hope to keep it, barring any unforeseen circumstances...

also...

My Requests Are Open... as is Ask My Muse if you would like to learn more about upcoming sequels or current works 😘

[jyushimatsu-falls-in-love]

s2ep8: I become Iruka?

[SPOILERS - AND, AMONG OTHER THINGS, A VERY SPECIAL GUEST - UNDER THE CUT!]

Before we start, I would like to report that thankfully, there wasn’t a single hint of dolphin bestiality in Jyushi’s skit as I feared! :’D But I’ll get to that skit later.

The first skit came as a surprise - “Synthesis”. And it handles the concept of fusions! Yeah, kinda like the Steven Universe ones except not really. Dekapan creates a machine capable of fusing two things together into one thing. But then it falls into Dayon’s hands... and things go crazy from there :P

The best - and also most horrifying - part of this skit is just how bizarre and creative the fusions are. Sure, we start with a simple curry rice... but then we get to the Dekapan+fly fusion, then the Oso+Iyami fusion (which was oddly adorable btw), then the Chibi+Hata fusion, then the Suiriku fusion, then the Otoutomatsu fusion, then the Nyaa+Shonosuke Hijirisawa fusion (EEYUP), then the Totoko+baseball alien fusion... it just goes on and on and holy crap these fusions have to be seen to be believed, they’re the weirdest things but as terrifying as they were they were also a delight to behold :’) Or maybe I’m just weird haha

The skit’s end is taken to it’s most logical conclusion when Dayon, having become a power-hungry megalomaniac, decides to fuse the entirety of Akatsuka Ward together... and the end result is merely a single piece of pink poop. Well then.

(It’s the same case as in S2Ep6, wasn’t it? Iyami shouted “Evil should die!” and his words ended up leveling the entirety of Akatsuka Ward. That and this is continuing proof that Akatsuka Ward is a shithole full of shit people. How unfortunate :P)

Then comes the second skit, the one we’ve all been waiting for! “Jyushimatsu and a Dolphin”. In this one, Jyushi tries to sign up to work with dolphins in the local aquarium/marine show. However, he’s not interested in being a dolphin trainer like the Girlymatsus are - he wants to be a dolphin. As in, an actual dolphin that performs in these shows. The Girlymatsus of course are having none of that.

(And yes, the Girlymatsus are indeed here as dolphin trainers! Everyone except Jyushiko has been accounted for. It was good seeing the girls again, and even as dolphin trainers nothing has changed much in their interactions with each other. It was pretty funny seeing them basically being the tsukkomi to Jyushi’s antics haha)

But just then, someone steps in to help Jyushi out! She offers to train Jyushi to achieve his dream of becoming a real dolphin. And guess who it is--!!

YES IT’S HER!!!!! IT’S HER!!!!!! HOMERUN GIRL IS BACK!!!!! MY DARLING GIRL IS BACK AND OH IT WAS SUCH A SURPRISE SEEING HER AGAIN AND SHE’S BEAUTIFUL AND AS WONDERFUL AS EVER AND ASAFKFGO;JCKL;AJ;LCQ WHEEZES

Although I must point out, in this skit she seems to be acting as if she and Jyushi never met, or at least that the way that they met was different? It’s almost as if she's a completely different character in this skit. Actually considering the lack of other Matsus and the lack of Jyushiko, some have speculated that this skit is actually an AU skit of sorts, with the other Matsus playing the roles of the Girlymatsus instead of their regular selves; and I’m kinda sorta inclined to agree with it. I feel like, if this were a true continuation of the timeline where “Jyushimatsu Falls in Love” happened, they would’ve at least acknowledged it (and the other brothers would’ve showed up). But they didn’t (and they didn’t), so. Hmm. She didn’t even laugh her famous laugh here :(

Anyway! Homura offers to train Jyushi to become a dolphin. And her training is absolutely brutal. Jyushi drowns several times and pukes out raw fish several times. It was very weird watching this bit at first without subs, mostly because HOLY CRAP HOMURA’S SO DIFFERENT HERE. It created such a disconnect between how I’ve been writing her and how she was portrayed in this episode, and I felt super confused orz But watching it with subs, I found that she still sounded like herself and I could still incorporate this side of her with how I’ve been writing her in my fics, so XD

Sadly, no matter how hard Jyushi and Homura worked, Jyushi still can’t act like a dolphin. So the two are rejected and fired from the marine show. Even Homura admits that Jyushi can’t be a dolphin, no matter how hard he tries. But Jyushi stubbornly won’t give up. So they have a brief fall-out here and I got sad :( (Though it was much more worrying watching them argue without subs, geez orz I’m glad their argument wasn’t actually as bad and ship-sinking as I feared it would be)

But then, with a little help and night-training from the dolphins themselves, Jyushi learns how to be a dolphin - and so, at the show the next day, he makes his debut!! Everyone from the Girlymatsus to Iyami and Dekapan to Homura is shocked at the development! But it was a glorious moment, and Homura felt so proud of Jyushi that she cried happy tears!!! Aaaaah the JyushiHomu is still very strong in this AU skit and I’m glad ♥♥♥♥♥

The skit not only ended with Jyushi’s dolphin victory, but it also had a song to go along with it! “Jyushiruka”!!! Unfortunately, I ended up missing the subbed lyrics for reasons, so I wasn’t able to see the song translated... I’ll have to rewatch it soon :’)

And finally, we have the post-credits skit, all about Totoko and Nyaa-chan! Except, well, not much can be said about it really, other than that Totoko and Nyaa really don’t like each other, and Chibita really needs a vacation :’P It was still pretty silly watching the girls fight, though. (This is the ideal BGM for it IMO ;P) 

Oh, and at the end it said “To be continued”, so I guess there’s more to Totoko and Nyaa’s shenanigans next week! I hope Chibita is saved by then :P

All in all, this was a solid episode! I loved both “Synthesis” and “Jyushi and a Dolphin” - and of course, most of all I love Jyushi and love love LOVE Homura-chan!!! My love for her increased a hundredfold watching this ep ;v; ♥♥♥♥♥ I wonder, since this skit felt more AU-y, if later down the line we’ll actually see her again - as in, with the events of “Jyushi Falls in Love” properly acknowledged, therefore making it a true reunion. I kinda really hope we do!!! There’s still a lot that could be done, I feel ;v; I’ll also be looking forward to the fish vs cat rivalry continuation! I wonder if Totoko and Nyaa could ever be friends haha

And next week’s preview... Something about Oso and hedges keeping friendships green... And the futon... And poor Ichi looks like he’s gonna have a hard time sleeping. Oh dear ;;

[celebratorypenguin]

Fic: This Too, Too Solid Flesh

This Too, Too Solid Flesh

Rating: NC-17 for sexytimes

Summary: The Beatles watch the final cut of "A Hard Day's Night" and discover that Paul's solo scene ended up on the cutting room floor. Paul feels like a failure; the others want to help. But mostly John.

NOTE: There's no evidence that any of this happened. The only kernel of historical accuracy is that Paul did film a scene with actress Isla Blair that was cut from the film. The scene can be read here: http://www.beatlesinterviews.org/dbhdnscene.html

And obviously, the sex is just a product of my pathetic brain.

THIS TOO, TOO SOLID FLESH

"O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!" --Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 2

***

Smoke and dust motes danced in the brilliant light as the film began to run. John settled in his seat, smiling fondly as Ringo grinned and jammed his elbow into John's ribs. "Our big-screen debut, eh?" Ringo stage-whispered.

John adjusted his glasses and gave Ringo an answering poke. "Shush, or we'll be kicked out of our own preview," he said, but he heard the excitement and mirth in his own voice.

They'd worked so hard on their movie on top of everything else they were doing - the tours, the press conferences, writing dozens of songs, putting together a pair of albums. And here they were, part of a handful of people invited to see the final cut of "A Hard Day's Night" before the official premiere.

Paul was sitting on John's left. Paul had been the most anxious throughout the entire process, largely because he couldn't control what he didn't understand, and partly because his girlfriend was an experienced actress. None of the "Beatle Birds" was at this screening, for which John was grateful for Paul's sake rather than his own. After all, Cynthia would be proud of him no matter what he sounded like or looked like.

Jane, on the other hand...

John sighed. He wanted to like the girl, he really did, but her posh accent and dainty ways were a bit much for him to handle. Cynthia said she felt like a clumsy cow next to Jane. For once, John was in complete sympathy and agreement with his wife.

Wonders would never cease.

The film countdown had begun, taking his mind off of everything except how this movie was going to turn out.

It was a pleasant surprise. The movie was charming and funny, with enough absurdly impossible situations to make John happy, enough sardonic wit to please George, and enough music to gratify Paul. The bonus, as far as John was concerned, was how marvelous Ringo was in his role as beleaguered underdog.

Dark as the screening room was, John could swear that Ringo was blushing.

Spontaneous, happy applause greeted the closing credits. John beamed as the house lights came up and Richard Lester went to the small stage. "So, gentlemen, what do we think?" he asked.

It was then that John realized that Paul, and George sitting to Paul's left, were stock-still. Hadn't they enjoyed their movie? What was the matter with them?

George's voice broke the sudden, uncomfortable silence. "Is this the finished thing?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Yes, it's the final cut," Lester replied. He seemed nervous, as if he were waiting for a bomb to go off.

And it did, because George asked, "What happened to Paul's scene, then?"

John's heart sank. Of course, that was what was missing - Paul's solo turn with the young actress. He'd run lines with Paul for days, and he knew that Jane had coached him to within an inch of his life. But the scene wasn't there.

Lester ran a finger between his collar and this throat. "Yes. Well. I'm so sorry, Paul, but that...slowed the film down...and I'm afraid we had to cut it out."

"Well, put it BACK," Ringo bellowed. "Take a minute or two off my bit and give it to Paul."

Good lad, John thought. He glanced over at Paul, who was the picture of outward composure, as long as you didn't see how tightly he was folding his hands together. John listened to Lester babbling about Paul's "extra closeups" and "dramatic lighting" he had used to "even out the screen time," but John could see that his heart wasn't really in it.

"Doesn't matter," Paul said evenly. "It's a great film, Dick. Thanks for the preview." He stood up and motioned for the rest of the group to do likewise. "We have an early press conference tomorrow, and we're going to need our beauty sleep. So if you'll excuse us...?"

George's face was a thundercloud. He ushered the stiff Paul and bewildered Ringo out of the room with John on his heels. Brian tried to waylay them, but one look at the determined set of George's mouth and the dark flash of his eyes was enough to make him stand aside and let the four men go on their way.

They took a wrong turn and had to double back to find the exit. Lester was talking to Brian, explaining his decision. John strained to hear his words.

He wished he hadn't.

"I like the lad, Brian, I truly do. He's a charming fellow, but as an actor...he's a bit rubbish."

Thank Christ Paul was out of earshot, John thought. His blood was boiling and he wanted nothing more than to punch the guy's lights out. He turned back to fix Lester with a glare, then found himself colliding with Paul's back.

The group had stopped.

They had heard.

Paul had heard.

To his credit, Paul's only reaction was to set his shoulders even straighter and keep walking forward. The loud slap of his hand on the door handle was the only sign of how hurt and angry he must have been. He held the door for the other three, each of whom gave him a sympathetic glance as they passed.

They were in the alley now, where two unremarkable cars waited to take them home without crowds of shrieking teenagers. The four Beatles stood in a tight circle. Ringo slipped an arm around Paul's waist and hugged him. "The guy's dead wrong," he declared. "You look amazing up there. You were born to have that big baby face glowing twenty feet high as you sing your heart out."

Paul nodded his thanks, his eyes downcast.

"I won't go to that sodding premiere, that's for sure," George snarled.

Sometimes, John forgot that Paul had more history with George than himself. Sure, George and Paul could - and did - snipe at each other like brothers, but there was a bond between them that John envied.

"Yeah, we can strike or something, make them put Paul's scene back in." Ringo tightened his grip on Paul. "They're not going to fuck you over, not on our watch, are they? Maybe we can go to the press, even!"

John had never been prouder of his bandmates than he was in that moment. "Fellas, I think this is Paul's decision to make." He ducked his head so that he was in Paul's field of vision. "We're behind you all the way, you know."

Paul blinked, as if finally coming to grips with the fact that any of this had happened. He ran his hand through his hair. "I appreciate it, guys, I really do. But I think I'd better sleep on it. I'm too..." he made a vague, discontented face, then started over. "I'm surprised, is all. But thanks."

"Want to spend the night at ours, then?" George asked Paul, who shook his head.

"Thanks, but I wouldn't be much company. I'm better off at home." He started for one of the cars, leaving George and RIngo to get into the other one.

John would normally have gotten in with Paul, but he jerked his head in the direction of the back door. "Can you wait for me a minute, Paul? Need to spend a penny."

Paul sat back and waved John away. They both watched as Ringo and George were driven off, both men looking back through the window at Paul. Ringo looked sorrowful. George looked dangerous.

John sauntered back into the building. He didn't want the loo, he wanted justice, and he was going to get it if he to beat the shit out of someone. His hands itched to go around Lester's throat, or Walter Shenson's, or someone's.

He shoved past Brian and stood next to the director and producer. "Ah. John," Lester said. "I'm glad you stopped. I hope there aren't any hard feelings."

He had to be kidding, right?

"I mean, Paul didn't seem to mind. He didn't look upset..."

"You're wrong!" John shouted in the man's face. "When you see Paul looking like he's just eaten a cucumber, he looks so cool, that's when he's hurting the most!"

"John," Shenson began, but John cut him off with a wave.

"The only thing keeping my fist out of your faces is that Paul needs me not to be in jail."

Brian rushed up and started to say something soothing, but John turned on his heel and went to join Paul in the car.

Paul was staring ahead. Dry-eyed and still, it was no wonder that people thought he wasn't churned up inside. John would have thrown things at the screen, would have yelled and kicked up a fuss, but that just wasn't how Paul went through life.

John wondered why Paul didn't have an ulcer.

The car left them off at Wimpole Street, where the Ashers and Paul were living. Paul didn't seem to think anything of John's presence at his side; they had ended more than a few evenings here, after all. When he put the key in the lock, Paul said, "They've all gone to Scotland for the week."

Good, John thought, because one thing he didn't think he could bear was the sight of Jane telling Paul all about her day as a successful actress.

Paul went straight to the bar, dispensing scotch with a liberal hand and barely pouring any soda in it. He handed a glass to John and took one of his own, then seated himself on the couch with an exhausted sigh.

John sipped his liquid courage, then sat beside Paul, so close that their legs touched from hip to knee. Once again he peered into Paul's lowered eyes. "You're not rubbish, you know," he murmured.

Paul gave a slight nod and set his lips in a tighter line.

"You're not," John continued. His heart ached; he would do anything, anything, to make Paul smile. "You're an annoying perfectionist, you're a bit of a showoff, and frankly any bloke who spends that much money on clothes is a bit suspect."

There, the mouth turned up just a bit at the corners.

"But one thing you're not is rubbish. At anything." John grabbed Paul's hand and held it fast. Paul's fingers were cold, so John put his other hand on top. "Paul, look at me."

Paul's eyes were dark.

"I'm only going to say this once, so fucking enjoy it while it's happening." John took a deep breath. "You are the best musician - hell, the best ARTIST - I've ever known. And I love you for it, you daft git."

Paul said nothing, only wrapped his arms around John's shoulders and buried his face in John's hair.

"You're not going to cry, are you?" John asked, worried. Paul's tears were rare, which was fortunate because they always burned John like acid.

Shaking his head against John's, Paul held on tighter, his breathing deepening as he clearly struggled for control. John patted his back and smoothed his rumpled hair. Paul said something that got muffled in John's jacket. "What was that, Paulie?"

Paul pulled back, his posture defeated, his face ashen. "I'm a failure," he mumbled. "How many people does it take to make Paul McCartney an actor? None, because it can't be done." He chuckled dryly at his own weak joke.

"Paul," John started, but Paul waved him off.

"What'll I tell Jane? Or Dad, or Mike? God, they'll be so disappointed in me."

"They'll be furious, just like Ringo and George were. You heard them, they were ready to take these guys apart." Privately, John wasn't sure what Jane would do, but he knew the McCartneys better than his own family, and he wouldn't want to be whoever stood between Jim and his son's dreams.

Paul put his elbows on his knees and let his head drop into his hands. "Face it, would you? I'm a fucking loser. I'm not even entirely rubbish, for fuck's sake. Just 'a bit' rubbish. Can't even manage THAT."

John had never, ever, seen Paul so unhappy. It occurred to him that Paul had never failed at anything before.

"Christ, I need a fag," Paul gasped, patting his pockets and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He dug out two of them and put them both in his mouth. John produced a lighter and Paul steadied John's hand with his own as he leaned forward. They had done this dance so many times, but the touch of Paul's hand on John's wrist was always a shockingly intimate gesture.

Paul sucked in the smoke, then took one cigarette out and passed it to John. "Ta," John said as he took a long drag. "Are you ready to listen to reason?" he asked.

"Maybe." Paul leaned against the sofa cushions. A veil of smoke obscured his face momentarily, then evaporated.

"You're a fast learner," John said between puffs on his cigarette. "You're always the first one with a rhyme, the first one to understand all the bits and bobs in the studio. You taught yourself the guitar, right side up AND upside down. So what if acting isn't something you pick up quickly? It's not who you are."

"Ah." Paul flicked a long cylinder of ash into a marble ashtray. "So tell me, who am I? Not just Paul McCartney of the Beatles. Who am I...to you?"

Was he really that insecure?

John started to make a wisecrack, but then he looked carefully at Paul's anguished face and saw that his composure was dangerously thin. He reformulated his answer and took a deep breath.

"You're part of me," was all he could say before he began to choke up. Paul's gaze snapped up to John's face at those words.

"Which part?"

Dangerous question, that.

John leaned forward, regarding Paul over the rims of his glasses. "The only part worth a damn," he whispered.

Paul's jaw finally relaxed and his eyes widened. "That's the nicest thing you've said about me in years," he said after a long, silent moment.

"Yeah, well, I mean it. I meant it that night in Paris when we were drunk off our asses, and I mean it now."

Oh, shit, he brought up Paris.

Paul's eyebrows shot up, two perfect arcs. "We weren't all THAT drunk, Johnny," he said, his voice low.

No, they couldn't have been, or else they wouldn't have been able to...to do what they had done.

John tilted his head to the side, asking Paul a silent question. Paul stubbed out his cigarette, sat up, and leaned over to John until they were forehead to forehead. John's breathing quickened and he let his eyes close.

"John," Paul breathed against him. "John, look at me."

When John opened his eyes, he saw so many things in Paul's expression: disappointment and embarrassment in his eyes, depression in the downward turn of the expressive mouth, a flash of longing in the blush that rose above his five o'clock shadow. John had to swallow hard and take a steadying breath to keep still and let Paul talk.

Paul brushed John's cheek with the back of one hand. "I do need something," he said, so softly that John almost couldn't hear him. "But what I don't need," Paul continued, his voice growing firmer, "is a goddamn pity fuck."

John leaned away from him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Isn't that what you ARE doing?" Paul demanded.

"I'm - Jesus, no, that's not it, that's not it at all! I'm just saying that among the things you are not 'a bit rubbish' at doing, sex is right up there!"

They sat facing each other, staring each other down, neither one willing to be the first to speak. John noticed that Paul's fingers were twitching, playing an unheard melody the way he always did when he was deep in thought. From the rhythm, John realized that Paul was playing the bass line of "If I Fell."

"I'm not trying to hurt your pride," John said softly.

Paul started, thinking hard, then gave John a rueful smile and stilled his traitorous hand. "Oh, please," he said, but his voice wasn't as steady as it had been.

The ludicrousness of the situation seemed to hit both men at the same time, because they burst into a simultaneous fit of laughter. "What the bloody hell are we doing?" Paul gasped between chuckles.

"I was hoping you knew," John replied. He loved seeing Paul like this, loved the sparkle in his eyes and the way he wrinkled his nose when he was so amused. Eventually the laughter subsided and they were left staring at one another again. Paul was looking at John's face as if the answer to some eternal secret was just between his eyes.

"Johnny." The way Paul's voice said that one word nearly rocked John off the sofa. It reminded him of a musty hotel room in Paris, of rain on his tongue and the mingled flavors of two-year-old French wine and Paul's nineteen-year-old lips. He remembered the smell of ozone and Paul's sweat, could almost hear the rumble of traffic on cobblestones mixed with the sound of Paul crying out as he climaxed.

After their trip, like a fool, John had insisted they put away their childish things and behave like real men - in his case, by impregnating his girlfriend and almost destroying his career in the process. Paul had thrown himself into his music, forging a trajectory that seemed to be ever-rising.

"I still..." John began, then lost his train of thought. "There isn't...I mean..." Suddenly, John became aware that his cigarette was down to a nub and was burning his fingers. "Ouch! Shit!" he cursed, dropping the butt into the remnants of his drink.

Paul smiled indulgently at him. "You're such a poet, Johnny," he said, leaning forward and resting his palms on John's thighs.

Throwing caution to the wind, John cupped Paul's face in his hands and kissed him. They stayed like that for several long, lovely moments, re-learning the feel of each other after years of pointedly not-doing-this. Paul tasted like scotch and smelled like smoke and vetiver, and John couldn't get enough of him.

"I don't want to do this on the sofa," Paul murmured against John's lower lip.

"I don't want to do this in Jane's bed," John countered.

Paul pulled back, scowling, then he tangled his fingers in John's hair and started to laugh. "Thank you for that reminder. We'll go to my room, up in the attic. Jane hates it up there." Paul stood up, groaning a little at the way his pants hugged him in all the wrong places, and offered his hand to John.

John took Paul's hand and was, as always, surprised by Paul's strength. Paul was solid where John was wiry, steady where John was flexible.

Face it, John told himself as he followed Paul up the wide staircase, Paul was perfect.

He felt another surge of anger. How could someone as allegedly smart as Dick Lester not see, not intuitively KNOW--

Paul's mouth was on his, silencing that part of John's brain. The anger swirled away, replaced by a longing so powerful that John's whole body trembled at the sudden wave of it. Paul put his fingers in the loops of John's belt, holding him close. "I've got you," Paul soothed.

They stood eye to eye, appraising one another. Paul was breathing hard, face flushed, lips darkened from kissing. His eyes were dilated but still so, so sad, and John wanted to erase that sorrow more than he wanted his next breath. He stood on tiptoe and kissed the corners of Paul's eyes, then lightly bit the tip of his nose, making Paul hiss in an attempt not to laugh.

"Johnny."

"Call me that again," John gasped, "and I'll come in my trousers."

Paul arched his back, pressing his groin against John's. "Well now, we can't have that, can we?"

John gave him a warning growl that only made Paul grin cheekily and do it again. "Sodding sadist," John mumbled as he stumbled backwards and began unbuttoning his shirt.

That made Paul laugh. He was taking off his own clothes, somehow still looking graceful even with his trousers down around his ankles. John tripped over himself trying to get his pants off over his shoes, almost landing on the floor except for Paul's steadying hands at his waist.

"Let me," Paul cooed, pushing John to the bed and kneeling at his feet. He took off John's shoes and socks - John had never thought anything so mundane could be that erotic - and slid John's pants the rest of the way off, lifting first one leg and then the other until John was naked.

I am physically and metaphorically naked, John told himself, trying to keep calm while Paul kissed his way up John's right thigh. He wanted to touch Paul anywhere he could, his hair, his shoulder, the strong muscles in his back, as Paul slid up his body until they were lying side by side on the narrow bed. John tried to turn onto his back and nearly fell off. Laughing, Paul tugged his wrists and got him back into his arms.

"Bit virginal, this cot," John complained. He got a sudden mental image of Jane on this bed, titian hair running down her back as she rode Paul.

"Stay with me, Lennon." Paul snapped his fingers in front of John's nose. He traced the line of John's jaw with a callused finger. "It's been a long time," he whispered. "I've...I've missed this."

"God, me too." John turned his head and kissed the inside of Paul's wrist, touching it lightly with his tongue. Delighted with Paul's shuddering gasp, John took his hand and brought it downwards, brushing his chest before finally wrapping Paul's fingers around his cock.

Smiling, Paul took the very broad hint and turned his strong, sure hand to pleasuring his friend. Long hours of playing bass had strengthened his muscles and left the very fingertips just rough enough to feel extraordinary against the velvety head of John's penis.

"You're still so good at this," John said, tearing his gaze from Paul's hand to his face. Paul was biting his lip, deep in concentration. "Christ, Macca, do you have any idea what this does to me?"

"I would," Paul said conversationally, as if he weren't in the midst of trying to coax another man to orgasm, "if SOMEONE were doing the same thing to me."

Oh.

With a wicked smile, John returned the favor, enjoying the way Paul arched into his hand. Paul's familiar-but-different body was straining, the musculature more defined than it had been in those heady Paris days. He'd almost been a boy then, in John's thrall, but now they were equals.

John nudged Paul's knees and put his legs between them, changing the angle of his hand. Paul let out a little cry of pleasure that almost made John lose control. He leaned over Paul, stroking faster, urging Paul with quick thrusts of his hips.

Paul reached for John's face and removed his glasses, which had slipped almost to the end of his nose. His hand shook as he scrabbled around on the nightstand for a bare space.

"Now I can hardly see you," John whined.

"Should've worn your contacts."

It figured that they'd be having one of their half-assed arguments when John was a hair's breadth away from climax. He shifted again, and again, trying to gain more pressure because Paul's hands were shaking so hard that he could scarcely keep a grip on John's cock. Finally John got so desperate that he pulled Paul on top of him, letting Paul's weight add to the friction he needed. Paul's eyes lit up and he gave John a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Somewhere in the depths of his brain stem, John knew he was moaning. If he had known how much the sound of his voice affected Paul, he would have sung an operatic aria on just the word, "Please," because that was the one driving Paul wild.

"Please, Paulie, please, please, I need it, oh God, please..." John's vision swam in a sea of blinding white light. He clutched Paul's bicep and threw his head back. "Paul!" he shouted, flailing in Paul's arms as he came, shuddering at the raw force of it.

Paul followed John's rhythm just as precisely as he did when they were in the studio together, timing his strokes with John's aftershocks, gentling him, then finally wiping the sticky mess from them both.

John opened his mouth to say something, failed utterly, and fell back on the bed as if he'd been punched in the gut. He was still shaking a little, which Paul misinterpreted as being cold. "C'mere," he murmured, holding John close and rubbing his hands up and down John's arms. Despite the cool breeze coming through the open window, Paul's body was warm and his eyes were fever-bright.

It was an effort to pull away from that delightful embrace, but John slid his mostly-boneless body out of Paul's arms and turned him over on his back. Never breaking eye contact, John pulled himself up on his haunches until he was just over the taut skin of Paul's cock.

"If you're tired," Paul began, but John silenced him by curling up at Paul's hip and taking him into his mouth. "Fuck!" Paul cried. "Warn a bloke before you do that!"

John snickered, noting that the vibrations made Paul buck into his mouth. As he decided to file that away for later use, he swirled his tongue around the shaft, then the head, surprised that Paul's bitter-salt taste hadn't changed in the last three years. Paul's hands were caressing his hair, bolder than the way he'd done it in Paris. Back then they'd both fumbled around, blindly guessing, but now they simply fit together in this as in everything else they did.

When he looked up, John saw Paul gazing at him with unabashed longing. "What're you staring at?" John asked after letting Paul's erection slip out of his mouth for a moment.

"Myself. Disappearing into you," Paul breathed.

John didn't say anything, just let his mouth go back to what it was doing before, but Paul's words burned themselves into his brain. He'd deal with them later, much much later. Afterwards. He concentrated on the head, where even the lightest touch of his tongue made Paul shudder, and on the pulsing vein on the underside. His jaw started to ache but he didn't care because hearing Paul calling his name was worth a few minutes of discomfort.

"John...John...I'm close," Paul moaned.

John knew, could tell from the thrumming pulse and the way Paul's cock stiffened and thickened against his tongue. He was beginning to wonder what that gorgeous organ would feel like in his ass when suddenly Paul cried out and started spilling into his mouth.

Paul's voice cracked as he babbled nonsense syllables and obsceneties. It was the most beautiful sound John had ever, ever heard, and he couldn't help joining in, almost harmonizing with the descending pitches of Paul's breath.

"I've got you, Paulie, you're okay, you're amazing, it's okay," John said in a quiet sing-song voice, pressing his aching mouth against Paul's hip. Paul tugged at John's shoulder, pulling him so that their heads were right next to one another on the pillow.

"Sorry about that," Paul panted. "Meant to warn you better." He rubbed a shaking hand along John's jawline, massaging the stiff muscles.

John, who hadn't minded a bit, arched into Paul's caress, greedy as a cat wanting attention. "Try again next time," he said, waggling his eyebrows at Paul.

Paul's eyes widened. "Next time? In another three years, or..."

"'Or.' Definitely 'or,' I should think." He reached for the sheets and pulled them up over both their bodies. He didn't ask if he could stay, partly because he could tell Paul wanted him to, but mostly because he didn't think his legs would support him. He snuggled closer to Paul, not minding the thin sheen of sweat or the musky odor of sex, and Paul held tightly to him in return.

"It melted," Paul said around a huge yawn.

John blinked short-sightedly at him. "What?"

With an impish grin, Paul pointed vaguely at the direction of their groins. "Our too-too solid flesh."

Pulling himself up on one elbow, John stared at Paul in disbelief. "We're lying here naked, practically glued together with my spunk - sorry about that, by the way - and you're quoting 'Hamlet' at me?"

Paul gave him a sleepy, shy smile. "Don't disparage my Shakespeare. It made the cut, didn't it?"

Even with his brain still reeling with everything he had just felt, John knew that Paul was really asking if he had 'made the cut,' if John found him worthwhile. If John loved him.

"It's our next A-side," he declared, tucking Paul's head under his chin and kissing the sex-mussed hair. "Double fucking platinum," he added, but Paul's deep breathing told him that he had fallen asleep.

John knew he'd be awake for hours to come. It would give him time to think of what he'd say to mollify Cynthia for staying out all night and not calling. Then there was the fact that he and Paul would have to get their stories straight for Ringo and George, who were sure to be over at the dawn's early light to check on Paul.

Perhaps it was best that he hadn't heard Ringo's car drive up earlier, didn't know that he and George had gotten out and had begun to ring the bell when the sounds of sex came floating through Paul's open bedroom window, hadn't seen the knowing smirk that passed between the two of them when they snuck quietly back and drove off into the cool evening.

*** END ***

[renaroo]

Wednesday Roundup 30/5/17

What’s that? Is it Wonder Woman Week? It’s definitely ladies week... plus some lovable turtles all the same and you know what? This particular comic reader and reviewer could not be happier for it. So let’s see how things pan out...

Image’s Saga, IDW’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, IDW’s Transformers: Till All Are One, DC’s Wonder Woman (2017- ): Wonder Woman Day Special

Image’s Saga (2012-present) #43 Brian K. Vaughn, Fiona Staples

Now that I’ve almost completely caught up on Saga in digital, I thought why the heck not go ahead and subscribe to the series rather than wait for the trade collection. ... Also I’ll admit that them selling this issue at $0.99 to attract new readers got me since in the long run I’d be saving by buying monthly rather than waiting for the trade. You got me, Image. You finally got me. Damn. 

In any case, Saga continues to be just completely unparalleled in its relevance and heart. It conquers issues of the day -- including transgenderism, abortion rights, mixed race family dynamics, and raising children in unconventional environments -- while also being wholly set in its own universe with its own rules and settings. It mixes Sci-Fi and Fantasy flawlessly while addressing the notes of incompatibility between them.

And then sometimes you have to fight shit monsters. 

Obviously I adore this comic and as long as it’s been running, I actually can’t think of a better hopping on spot for new readers than this issue, as it comes to address so much of what’s happened in the past of these characters, bringing things back around circle, and also brings us a new shock with the last page revelation. 

A true “wait what” if I’ve ever seen one. 

Great comic, great issue, and a must read for anyone interested in truly defining change in the industry. 

Also as a complete side note, I wonder how many of my fellow 90s kids saw that zebra throughout the issue and had a craving for fruit stripe gum. Like it was intense. And I’m not a sugar person. 

IDW’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2011-present): Free Comic Book Day 2017 Kevin Eastman, Tom Waltz, Cory Smith, Ronda Pattison

I’m always a supporter of Free Comic Book Day, but another thing I find interesting about it is how companies attempt to use it to bring new readers up to date on current storylines or preview for upcoming big events. A lot of times, though, that unfortunately leads to things being a tad lazy with their freebies, reprinting already run issues or making a hodge podge of comics to sort of tease newbies. 

IDW, as always, refuses to be so insular or simple.

Not only was FCBD a new issue for the series, but it provided the characters’ perspectives on the past two years of storylines together and brings about a compelling and complete story within the issue itself -- having a villain to be defeated, a puzzle to figure out, and in general giving a satisfactory issue on its own while still hinting toward the upcoming return of the Dimension X plot of the ongoing series. 

I love these characters, I love how well handled they are, and I love how IDW’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles continues to use ingenuity in bringing together the entirety of the TMNT franchise. It’s fantastic. 

IDW’s Transformers: Till All Are One (2016-present) #10 Mairghread Scott, Sara Pitre-Durocher, Joana Lafuente

The depths of Starscream’s depravity continues and I kind of adore watching the descent? I was actually curious if mneumosurgery was going to receive more development in non-Lost Light/MTMTE titles and considering my fascination with it in my own fic, I’m obviously very pleased to see it brought into Scott’s work now. I love that his arrogance and manipulation seemingly knows no bounds and yet we can’t help but feel like his work actually is in the best interests of Cybertron as he sees it. Or is it?

I love that the universe also keeps expanding -- Chromia hunting Legio, Arachnid being a mneumosurgeon that has been working with Starscream since the very first storyline’s mysteries (and being a different character from Black Arachnia which makes me excited because yassss have my cake and eat it toooooo), Elita One’s work counteracting Starscream. 

I love it all so very much. And Blast Off and Onslaught are now officially a #poblematic fav couple, dammit. I already have 30 of those for Transformers. 

DC’s Wonder Woman (Rebirth) (2017-present): Annual #1 Greg Rucka, Nicola Scott, Romulo Fajardo Jr., and MANY MORE!

Four-stories-in one and Wonder Woman once more delivers on the sort of quality that has been expected of the title for the last year. We completely retcon the origins of how the Trinity originally met and their interactions with each other is just top tier fun both from Rucka’s writing and love for all three (and Lois!!!) as well as Scott’s never failing to amaze art. And I can’t help but feel like this was the definite highlight of the whole annual, which explains this being the cover story. 

The others are... decent to okay. With the Japanese setting story kind of obviously misunderstanding the emphasis Rucka’s past year of worldbuilding has put into Diana using her lasso rather than using her sword but still it got us some peace there.

All the stories are fairly good for pumping one up for all aspects of Wonder Woman and the excitement that will come from her film debut this weekend, but I also feel like there’s some missed opportunities here.

I was really hoping for a preview of the next creative team’s work, and especially at least getting a sense of Shea Fontana’s characterization for Diana, which we didn’t really get. And even more importantly, for a Wonder Woman spectacular celebrating all there is to love about Wonder Woman and what she means as an icon... I’m not really pleased with the idea that her first annual of this series has so few women working on it. 

Diana’s consistently muscular, beautiful, kind, and resourceful throughout the story but it’d have been doubly as awesome if DC had used this opportunity to promote more of their female creative talent. 

DC’s Wonder Woman (2017-present): Wonder Woman Day Special #1 Greg Rucka, Liam Sharp, Laura Martin

It’s a reprinting of the first issue of Wonder Woman Rebirth. 

That’s not entirely a bad thing, and it gave me the chance to reread the first issue like I talked about doing in last week’s Wondy installment, to see if the racial cringing was any less cringing (it’s not), but it’s a reprint promoting the current book just in time for new readers excited by the Wonder Woman (2017) film out this Friday to pick up a free comic digitally, or go to their local stores and pick up the first two volumes of Rucka’s run which includes Wonder Woman: Year One and Wonder Woman: The Lies. 

It’s good marketing, even if I’m still really displeased with the handling of race issues in the beginning of Wonder Woman’s Rebirth return. 

There’s not much more to say to it than that. 

Overall this was a good week and it was especially great on the front of being full of comic ladies, but even though I’m as happy as anyone to celebrate a good Wonder Woman Day, my absolute biggest emotions for this week’s comics definitely came from Saga, which is one of the greatest comics of this generation and a pleasure to read, but especially on the ball this week.

But that’s just my opinion! I’d love to hear from all of you. Agree? Disagree? Think I missed a good comic to pick up? I’d love to hear from you!