#I’m just delaying having to finish my thesis

[mycological-mariner]

Wow I’m three chapters into H.M.S Surprise and I am already Stressed Out

#The Left Hand of Darkness traumatised me so badly when I first read it and this book is giving me flashbacks #jokingly but is it?? is it really? #the problem is is that it’s so much smaller than the prev book so I can finish it faster #I think I’ll go read Left Hand of Darkness again and cry #I’ve set it down for now but. #not made of iron here #I can’t believe this has happened #it’s so goddamn distressing #but it’s also 3am so #I’m just delaying having to finish my thesis #holy christ #and I doubt this book will let up #in other words please read The Left Hand of Darkness #it is also stressful and well written #hms surprise #aubrey maturin #aubreyad #3 chapters in and I’m catatonic

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Five

A/N: I'd like to apologize for the delay in updates, but not only has the semester started up again, but I am also knee-deep in writing my thesis in the hopes of being able to graduate this spring. So, until that's done, updates are probably going to be a bit on the sporadic side. Thank you so much for your patience! 💜

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.1k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @lathalea @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

After they finished eating, Thorin looked over at Dwalin. “A word, if you don’t mind?”

Dwalin looked as if he very much minded, but still followed Thorin to the far side of the room, where they would be out of earshot of Elrond, Lindir, and Nina. “What is it?”

“I might ask you the same thing,” Thorin replied, folding his arms as he leveled a long look at Dwalin. He'd served as Thorin’s right hand for as long as Thorin could remember, and he held Dwalin’s opinion in high regard. So, if something troubled him where Nina was concerned, he wanted to know it and why. “You’d rather she not accompany us?”

Dwalin glanced over his shoulder at the table, where the three were deep in conversation, then looked back. “I would rather that, yes,” he said with a nod. “I don’t trust her.”

“Nor do I, simply because we know nothing about her. But, there are two of us and one of her and I think the numbers are in our favor.”

“They are, or they should be,” Dwalin replied, his voice lower than usual and a nod accompanied his words, “but she is no typical girl. We saw that for ourselves last eve, didn’t we?”

“We did. And she came to our aid.”

“Thorin, just because she fought off Orcs doesn’t make her automatically trustworthy or on our side. Ye know this.”

“I do. And I’m not suggesting she is. But, she had no cause to step between that arrow and me, so that weighs in her favor.” Thorin glanced over at Nina. In the light of dawn, it was a wonder he hadn’t noticed she was a girl instead of a boy. She was small, and compact, but her hair alone should’ve given her away, as it was a bushy mess of coppery curls that spilled halfway down her back. 

“Just take care. Ye don’t know her, don’t know why she stepped in the path of that arrow.”

He nodded. He understood that, of course. And he was just as curious as Dwalin as to why she’d done as she had.

“You’re right, I don’t know. Nor am I foolish enough to think if I ask, she will tell me the truth. But, she is only a girl. She would be no match for you and I together.”

Dwalin didn’t look all too convinced even as he nodded. “I suppose.”

“She won’t be. So, worry not. We will keep a close eye on her, and make certain she does not put a foot wrong.” He slapped a hand against Dwalin’s back. “So, let’s gather up what we need to take back to Erebor with us and think about being on our way. We have a bit of a journey ahead of us.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “Just a bit. Remember how long it took the last time we left here to go to to Erebor?”

“Ah, but this time around, we will not be being pursued by anyone—hopefully—and if Thranduíl is alerted ahead of time that we will be arriving, we shouldn’t have the same trouble we did the last time.”

“No, instead he’s dealing with the fact that yer nephew wishes to marry the captain of his guard.”

Thorin grinned at that. “Well, we will cross that bridge when we reach it. As of right now, Kíli remains in Erebor, Tauriel in Mirkwood and Thrandy isn’t at all aware of their plans.”

Dwalin chuckled. “How are those plans coming?”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Make no mention of it, please. Dís was driving me mad with trying to come up with a way to convince Kíli he really should marry someone a bit less elvish and a lot more dwarvish. But to do so in such a way as to keep him from figuring out she’s doing so.”

“And how is that going?”

They took their leave of the Great Hall before he answered with a soft sigh. “About as well as you’d imagine. Kíli feels he owes his life to Tauriel and I find it difficult to argue with him. She did save his life with her quick thinking. She’s done so twice. So, Dís is angry with me as well.”

“For you won’t step in and convince him?”

“Exactly. I see no need to convince him of anything. I think he knows his own mind better than any one of us does.”

Dwalin whistled softly as they strolled along the promenade. It was a glorious day in Rivendell, with plenty of sunshine and soft breezes, and it radiated peace and serenity. Thorin remembered it being the same the previous time the Company was in residence, but he couldn’t really appreciate it then, he’d had far too much on his mind with the quest of Erebor underway and the need to be there prior to the last light of Durin’s Day.

And now? Now he was under no time constraints at all. He could linger at Rivendell if he so chose and Elrond had no objections. But at the same time, he just wanted to return to Erebor as quickly as possible. There was so much work to be done, and he wasn’t thrilled with being away for any longer than absolutely necessary.

He sighed softly. “I told Kíli I would have a word with Thranduíl about Tauriel, so I have an ulterior motive for venturing there as well. That Elrond offered us use of the Southeast Passage is merely a happy coincidence.”

Dwalin narrowed his eyes. “I thought you didn't believe in happy coincidences?”

“No, it’s luck I don’t believe in.” Thorin managed a grin. “Now, if you will excuse me, there are few things I need take care of before we go.”

They parted ways then and Thorin sighed as he stepped into his own chambers. They were small, but like most of Rivendell, open air so it gave the illusion of being larger. He leaned back against the door, the slight twinge in his lower stomach stronger than it had been earlier. 

He didn't have to lift his tunic to know what it was. All he had to do was close his eyes and he was transported back to the very moment when Azog the Defiler ran him through with the blade that took the place of his left forearm. 

There were two scars, one above the other, with the top one paining him far more greatly than the other at the moment. Although the wounds had healed several months earlier, the scars still pained him from time to time. More often than not, he’d lurch awake in the middle of the night, sweat pouring from him, his gut burning and cramping, the same cry of pain on his lips that lingered on since the day it happened. 

He tried not to think about that day at Ravenhill, tried not to think about how he’d watched Azog so very calmly run Fíli through, how his son, Bolg, did the same to Kíli. But when he slept, he had no control over what his mind conjured. He could still hear his now gasp of disbelief as he watched, helpless to prevent any of it simply because he was too far away and he’d sent his nephews to their fates.

It was nothing short of a miracle that both boys survived. Nothing short of a miracle that he himself survived. Had it not been for Amara and her expertise and Narnerra’s gifts as well, none of the Durin boys would have lived to tell the tale.

He lifted the bottom of his rough-hewn gray henley and ran a hand over the scars. They were still raised, and mostly pink, and he flinched as his fingertips brushed them. Still sensitive. Amara had told him they might be for some time to come, but he tried not think about it. He tried not to think about that day at all, if he could help it. Why linger in the past? It did no good to look anywhere but forward and now, he just wanted to return home, hopefully with good news for Kíli, and try to put all of it behind him. 

He crossed the room to his rucksack. They both traveled light, borne of a lifetime of moving from place to place and never really having a home. After Smaug sacked Erebor, they’d made something of a home in Ered Luin, but it still wasn’t their true home, and their return to Erebor meant a return to what actually was their true home. Over the last nearly two years, Thorin and his company had been on the move— from the Iron Hills, to the Shire, to Rivendell, to Mirkwood, to Esgaroth and Dale, and finally, to Erebor.

“And when I return, I will not leave again,” he said softly, letting his henley fall back into placed before he pulled the leather ties on the sack to tighten it. “And if Dís wishes to find a way to keep Kíli and Tauriel apart, she is welcome to do it herself.”

He would not try to interfere other than to get Thranduíl to offer his blessing. All he wanted was to see Kíli happy and he knew Tauriel would make his nephew happy. 

And perhaps once that was done, he’d see about finding a wife as well. He’d considered the idea before leaving Erebor, and thought perhaps the time had finally come. He’d long fought the idea of marrying and having a family of his own, but now, he’d begun to wonder if it was time. 

But that would wait until he returned to Erebor and that was still quite the ways off. The journey would take nearly five weeks, and that only if they ran into no trouble. 

Trouble in the form of, say, an orc pack.

Why were they near Rivendell, though? That made no sense to him. The Gundabad orcs were  now leaderless, rudderless, scattered about Middle Earth the way the dwarves had been so many years earlier when Smaug the Terrible sacked Erebor. Their leader, Azog and his heir, Bolg were gone. The filth wiped clean by his blade, and by the blade belonging to a Wood-Elf called Legolas, the son of the Woodland King. 

He sank onto the edge of his bed, the sack forgotten. He owed his life to that same elf and the captain of the Mirkwood guard, for Legolas’ arrival along with Tauriel’s quick thinking and elf magic, saved his life, saved the lives of his nephews. He might not get on with Thranduíl at all, but he owed so much to the other two.

Just as he owed Nina. 

He wondered where she’d come from, where she called home, and most importantly, why had she been where she was. It made no sense, as she was neither elf nor orc, obviously, but of Man. He’d known it the moment he saw her in the Healing Room. She did not bear the pointed ears or height of an elf, although she was every bit as pretty as one. That much, he had noticed. He had little trust in Man, but he certainly could appreciate a pretty woman when he saw her. 

But why was she on the Great East Road? It was widely traveled, but rarely by lone women. It simply wasn’t safe, as the road wound through the Wilderlands and Dunland and Bree—all towns that were home to ruffians, thugs, and all other unseemly walks of life. And Nina did not strike him as the least bit unseemly. 

A gentle knock came at the door and he rose to cross, calling, “Who goes?”

“It’s Kenia, Your Highness.”

He tugged open the door and looked up at the elf. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” she gestured to the room, “may I?”

“Of course.” He stepped back to allow her room to pass, but made certain to keep the door open. Just in case. “What can I do for you?”

“I understand Miss Nina will be accompanying you to Mirkwood.”

He nodded. “It would appear that way, yes. Why?”

“I know I said she would be all right to travel, but I’d be lying if I didn’t add I was a bit concerned. I don’t think the shaft that struck her was morgul, but at the same time, it can sometimes be difficult to tell at first.”

“So, do you think she should remain here?”

“I would love her to do just that.” Kenia offered up a slight smile. “But, I have the feeling she will fight me on it and will bolt as soon as she gets the chance. I obviously cannot force her to remain here, but I am worried.”

“And you think I might be of help?”

“In a way, yes. I think that, should the symptoms strike while you are somewhere between here and Mirkwood, you would need to treat her.”

He shook his head. “I am no healer, Miss Kenia. That would be Óin and he is back in Erebor, working alongside Narnerra.”

“I understand, but you would be able to offer basic aid. If nothing else, it would give you the time you’d need to reach Mirkwood, where Thranduíl’s healers would be able to take over.”

“And how would I do this?”

“I will give you an emergency kit—kingsfoil, water charged by the light of a full moon, valerian root, lavender, and chamomile.”

“And I am to do what with them?”

“I’ve written out instructions, in the Common Speech, so anyone might be able to help. Valerian and chamomile have calming properties, the kingsfoil is an antiseptic, and I’ll include linen bandages for binding as well.”

As she spoke, she held out a small, black velvet bag. “Everything you would need, including the instructions, are in this. Keep it with you at all times. The kingsfoil alone is almost priceless. It is very near a miracle cure for most ailments, including morgul poisoning.”

He nodded. “My nephew spoke of being treated with it when he was struck by an orc’s morgul arrow the last time we ventured to Mirkwood.” 

Kenia’s hazel eyes widened. “Which nephew?”

“Kíli.”

“Oh, the dark-haired one. We all were convinced he was your son.”

Thorin chuckled. “I have heard that many times over the year. He is my sister-son and Dís and I strongly resemble one another.”

She smiled. “I must confess, the others were a bit disappointed he was not in your company this time.”

“I’ll be certain to let Kíli know he’s been missed.” Thorin cleared his throat. “So, is there anything else I need keep in mind where Miss Carren is concerned?”

“Do you know the symptoms of morgul poisoning?”

“No, but I assume it would be obvious something was wrong. Kíli went gray when he’d been struck with a morgul shaft.”

Kenia nodded slowly. “Gray is definitely one of the signs. But, before that, Miss Carren would complain of fever and muscle fatigue and overall pain, so should she mention any of those, you would need to treat the wounds immediately or as soon as you possibly could.”

“I will keep an eye on her if her health appears to be deteriorating.”

“Perhaps I might speak to His Lordship about accompanying you, just in case.”

He smiled. Elves and dwarves might not have always had the best of relationships, but since the Battle of the Five Armies, the elves of Rivendell had proven to be rather stalwart allies. “I appreciate the thought, Kenia. But, I think we will be fine. Should we run into trouble, we hopefully will be close enough to Mirkwood and their healers.”

“Well, they would be competent enough,” Kenia hedged, looking from him to his rucksack and back, “but…”

“I know. And I will not make you say it aloud,” he told her as he reached for his leather and fur great coat to shrug into. “And I agree, their healers are only competent, but several of the Guard’s captains would fit in here beautifully.”

“Captains of the Guard?” Kenia’s forehead wrinkled along with her nose to let him know what she thought of that notion.

“Trust me.”

“Well, I cannot speak to that, as I’ve no experience working with them. But, if you trust them…”

“It’s not so much I trust any wood elf,” he hedged, shaking his head, “but that I’ve seen for myself what this one particular elf can do.”

“Then if you’d rather I not ask my Lord Elrond, I won’t.”

“I don't think it necessary.”

She smiled. “Very well.”

As she turned to leave, Thorin said, “Kenia?”

She paused. “Aye?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

She gazed at him over her shoulder. “Of course. I’m rather fond of you, you know. I look forward to your visits.”

He bobbed his head. “As do I. But now, it’s time for me to head back to where I belong.”

“Well, safe travels and hopefully we will meet again. Under happy circumstances.”

“You’ll get no argument from me on that.”

She swept from his chambers and with a soft sigh, he moved out to the wide terrace off the back of the room. Rivendell was so very peaceful and he knew that, if he wished, Kenia would be more than happy to have him settle there with her. Theirs was a special relationship, born of a trust he did not share with many. She’d seen him at his worst, had seen him through his worst, and in some ways, he wished he felt for her the way she seemed to feel for him.

But, it hardly mattered one way or another, for she was unwilling to leave Rivendell and he was equally unwilling to leave Erebor now that it was finally theirs once again. Which left them at an impasse of sorts even if theirs had been a passionate, fiery love for one another instead of a deep and treasured friendship. 

He gazed out across the rolling lush lawns of Rivendell, at the waterfall in the distance, the one that spilled into an elegant gold and marble fountain that the Company had played about in during their previous visit. A smile tugged at his lips as he wondered how Elrond felt about having thirteen naked dwarves splashing about in that fountain. 

There was no more time to dwell. Despite Dwalin’s misgivings, Thorin felt no such hesitation at having Nina accompany them. He would, of course, keep a watchful eye upon her as they made their way toward Mirkwood, but until she actually gave them reason to doubt her, he would be grateful for the extra eyes and extra blade. So, with that in mind, he hefted his pack from the floor, slung it over his shoulder, and left his chambers to meet Dwalin and Nina and begin the trek home. 

#Richard Armitage #AU #The Hobbit #Thorin Fic #Thorin Oakenshield #Is it hot in here? #Hobbit Fic #Romance #Hobbit Fanfic #Thorin x OC #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction

[literary-illuminati]

Books I Read In July

31. India In The Persianate Age by Richard M. Eaton

So this has been on my list for, like, 2 years(?),since I asked for recs on Indian history after finishing After Tamerlane and someone mentioned it. Having finished it - good recommendation! Shockingly readable, and if absolutely nothing else has given me a basic understanding of the broad strokes of medieval Indian history. (Now just to read up on the Congo basin and points south, and South-East Asia, and I’ll have something like an extraordinarily cursory understanding of the political history of the entire world).

But no it really was interesting. Beaton’s central thesis - that it’s more useful to think of medieval India as a period of conflict and syncretization between Persianiate and Sanskrit cultural spheres, not a period of holy war and strict us-them divides - seems a bit overstated, but it’s definitely worth taking seriously (and certainly a useful corrective to the political narratives that have dominated since). The Mughal’s in particular seemed to have been a really syncretic empire, legitimized by islamic clergy but with Rajputs and other hindu aristocrats playing keys roles in just about all realms of the state, and the symbolism  and rhetoric of the state definitely seemed to be pretty thoroughly syncretized by the eighteenth century. 

Also, like, to the extent there even is a popular memory of the Mughals in the west, it’s definitely of the ‘ancient, decadent empire’ sort, so useful to remember that they’re almost quintessentially early modern. 

It’s mostly an aside in the book, but one thing that really did strike me (largely because it agreed with what I remember of  Darwin’s take in After Tamerlane) is that the colonization of India was in large part only possible because India was so much like Europe - The collapse of the Mughals sort of rhymes with general anarchy of the Early Modern in terms of giving opportunities for state formation, and more specifically there had been something like an Indian Military Revolution leaving large populations of trained professional mercenaries very skilled at their craft and without much loyalty beyond their next paychecks, and (probably more importantly, especially in Bengal) fairly sophisticated credit markets that could be tapped to provide capital for military adventures. If the Brits hadn’t been able to tap into both the military and credit markets and exploit them to the hilt, there’s simply no way they would have been able to exploit the opportunities they did and dominate the subcontinent. 

Which definitely does lead one to wonder how much of a delay you’d need to allow proper Indian fiscal-military states to consolidate on their own and resist complete European domination/jump into the empire-building game themselves, and what that would have looked like. From my (again, very vague) understanding of it, the Sikh Empire and Sultanate of Mysore managed to get pretty close to fighting the Brits on even ground even historically. 

32. The Galaxy and the Ground Within by Becky Chambers

Hugo novel nominee 6 out of 6! We did it! Confetti and sparklers! 

Okay it’s not really hate-reading but I’ve literally read all but one thing Chambers has ever published at this point, I think. Please don’t let the sequel to Hymn to the Wild Build get nominated for a Hugo next year. 

But no honestly I didn’t even hate this one. Extremely readable - would have been great for a train ride or day stuck in an airport - and it even has a bit of interpersonal conflict! Little, little bit, argument lasts for three pages before they agree to disagree, and I get the feeling I’m supposed to find one side much more obviously correct than I do, but still! 

I’ve said it before, but I really do want to like the Wayfarers universe. And, well, in large part that assuredly just because I can’t think of any other proper space opera settings that have even slightly taken off that are newer than Mass Effect, and also it’s the blessedly rare setting where the entire universe isn’t warped around the sheer magnetic Specialness of humanity, but still, it’s a fun, well-thought out setting! Would love to read a story with a plot set in it some day! 

Though the whole Aeluon demographics thing is still bothering me - a population can’t recover from a bottleneck when the average number of kids per potential mother is less than two! Especially when they’ve got the whole galactic military superpower thing going on. They should still be slowly limping to extinction! (and really, if you actually want to dig into the drama of a huge cultural expectation to have kids, that seems like a way richer vein to tap anyway.)

33. Six-Gun Snow White Catherynne Valente 

So on account of really loving The Past Is Red, and still having lines from The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland stuck in my head on occasion, and having gone feral over L’Esprit de L’Escalier when it came out last year, I just kind of decided to put holds on every Valente book my library had (there were a lot). Of the three I’ve read so far, this was easily the weakest 

I mean the conceit is good - I still adore retelling fairytales and classics in new settings (fuck you I will defend 10 Things I Hate About You and She’s The Man to my dying breath), I love mixing up any post-medieval time period with mythic/fantasy elements, and the prose and imagery is still mostly very good. 

But after the first act the whole thing just felt very confused and meandering and not sure what to do with itself, honestly. And maybe I’m just not cultured enough to get it, but the ending really fell a bit flat imo. 

34. Crashed: How a Decade of Financial Crises Changed The World by Adam Tooze

Since he’s the public intellectual of the moment, and also because my god I knew less about the history of the Great Finacial Crisis than I thought I did. 

So beyond an understanding of just how long the crsis lasted and how comparatively hypercompetent the Chinese government was compared to anyone else, I have mostly been left with an incredible disdain for the European elite in general and Germany’s political class in particular. Just, totally fucked everything up and made everything worse for everyone, for almost no reason whatsoever. France comes out smelling of roses and seeming well-governed, by comparison. France!

Beyond that, it really just was a decade where the West’s most salient political divide was between well-heeled technocrats trying to keep global capitalism running relatively smoothly and the inarticulate nationalist screaming, huh? Truly depressing era for the left. (tbf so are most of them).

Relatedly but wow has spending the last section on Ukraine made this book age amazingly. More topical now than four years ago, somehow.

35. Comfort Me With Apples by Catherynne Valente

So this one I liked a fair bit better than Snow White, though honestly it really could have been a short story instead of a novella. The bits of the HOA agreement for the magical-realist-suburb the story takes place in before each chapter were clever and nicely dystopian/faerie-ish. 

The whole conceit of the Garden of Eden as this stifling hyper-manicured stepford wives gated community was generally really well done, but as previously mentioned I’m an extremely easy sell for that sortof thing. It really did take me altogether too long to realize that all the other people had animal names, so it seemed clever to me when that was pointed out anyway.

Beyond that it was all a bit confused, really. Blasphemous in a 1990s feminist fantasy sort of way? Adam is also Bluebeard, a giant and a brute who murders his wives when they realize what he is after finding the mementos he keeps, or otherwise displease him and then demanding his Father make him a new one, Eve eventually convincing him to eat the Apple is something like an analogy to poisoning an abusive husband. That sort of thing. 

36. Deathless by Catherynne Valente

Now this one, this one was good, IMO. But then like I said, I’m an easy sell for twentieth century fairy tales, and even moreso Soviet ones. And Valente really leaned into the fairy tale-ness with this one, all the rich description and obscure metaphors and triptychs upon trptychs upon triptychs. Also the little domestic/family spirits who’d gotten cooped together in communal housing like everyone else and formed a housing committee to start making the place bigger on the inside (and realized that they can cause far more trouble for people by being informants than just spoiling milk) and the kazakh dragon whose horde is oil and wheat were both great. 

The plot was, honestly, still rather meandering. But hey, when it’s a novel length fairy tale that kind of comes with the territory. And being in Marya’s head was always enjoyable. 

…really don’t have too much to say about this one except that it was good, honestly. 

37. A Spindle Splintered by Alix E. Harrow

And Hugo Novella Nominee number five!

So I absolutely adored Ten Thousand Doors of January, which was also the only thing by Harrow I’d previously read. So it’s possible I went in with overinflated expectations. But still, this was honestly a pretty big dissapointment. 

And okay, part of it is, just like songs about how sexy being a musician is or dense essays about how criticism and Studying Theory are moral imperatives, stories about how ~important~ stories are have to be really good to not leave me rolling my eyes. And that goes double and triple for stuff that just leans into many worlds theory to justify itself about why there are all these convenient parallel worlds where fairy tales are real exactly as you imagine them, and triple for stuff that tries to get all cute and meta about all the cliches but then still expect you to take it seriously. 

So I mean, even going in, this probably wasn’t the book for me. But still, it was just so…impressed with itself? Or no, that’s unfair, more that the reviews and marketing copy on the book jacket were impressed with it. And I just..didn’t see it? If it wasn’t gay the entire plot seems like it could have been a made-for-tv movie I watched as a kid. Certainly not exactly ‘subversive’ or ‘groundbreaking’ or whatever. 

Also I was kind of surprised how how fucked up the original Sleeping Beauty story was (Princeess didn’t wake up with true love’s kiss, she woke up when the prince rapes her while she sleeps, she gets pregnant, and her newborn baby suckles the splinter out of her finger) was treated as this, like, shocking revelation. I mean I was absolutely a miserable child who sought these things out but still, pretty sure I’d heard that by the time I was 14. Like Cinderella’s stepsisters slicing chunks of their feet off to fit in the slipper, y’know?

#monthly tally #analysis/review #a spindle splintered #alix e. harrow #deathless #Six Gun Snow White #comfort me with apples #Catherynne Valente #crashed #Adam Tooze #the galaxy and the ground within #becky chambers #India in the Persianate Age #Richard M. Eaton

[colleencrossingg]

So this happened.

I apologize for my inactivity, school and work has been absolutely insane. I have been playing New Leaf every day though to get as much as I can before the servers shut down. Yes, this includes exchanging 100 visits with randos on Reddit for unlimited hacked Sanrio items. I decorated the bottom floor of my house, so I’ll post that later. I also started the Beautiful Town ordinance, because I am SICK of watering flowers.

I finished funding for both the Roost and the Dream Suite (with the help of friendly Redditors), so my main focus has been trying to visit others and get to 500 dreams. If you want me to visit, leave your Dream Address!

Things in my personal life are not going as well. My dog passed away yesterday at 6 years old. We have no idea what happened, but it seems as if he had severe organ failure. He was always very sick, even as a puppy, but this was very unusual and he declined very quickly. I don’t want to get into it, but this was the third major health scare in less than 9 months where we thought we’d have to put him down.

I am struggling to get things done because I am having POTS flare ups and I have been dealing with depression-related fatigue. I am trying to keep going, but it is hard. I am also dealing with a lot of stress because of my fiancée, because we might have to move in June so he can start grad school. He is stressing me out with financial talk and trying to convince me to enter a mortgage on a property I’ve never even seen in a city we’ve never been to. The FAFSA delay is screwing us because we don’t know how much in loans we’ll have to take out, so this affects which school he chooses to attend. I also don’t know what I’ll be doing until I can start my MA program. I may try to take Chinese or Vietnamese courses as a nonmetriculated student at the university my fiancée is going to, or I may be ambitious and try to do it at the Ivy League school nearby…

I recently won two awards for my thesis as well as my service to the department I belong to. I am dealing with major impostor syndrome because of this. I don’t feel like I deserve to win, and I even consulted my favorite professor to make sure that he didn’t influence the decision in any way because he is the department chair. I’m not sure if I want to even attend the ceremony because I am dealing with intense body image issues and if anybody tries to take a picture of me, I’ll go insane.

I will try to post occasional updates if I can. Animal Crossing is my main coping mechanism through everything going on. I have so many other games I want to play, but so little time.

I want to try the new Stardew Update, but I have such minimal progress in my main save file. I’m horrible with getting through the Skull Cavern mines, and it’s really holding me back. I haven’t played Stardew in a very long time, so I may just play from a completely different save file and start over.

Another game I’ve been playing more lately is Minecraft. I wouldn’t say it’s been a full-on intense Minecraft phase, but I started a new "Survival" world (I play on Peaceful until it’s not convenient for me - I have been playing for 12 years and beaten the game numerous times, I know what I’m doing!) and I’m trying to exit my comfort zone by building in biomes I would usually skip over.

Sorry for my inactivity, shit is rough right now. I don’t know what else to say. I deal with grief really weird for someone who is extremely mentally ill and emotionally unstable. I’m oddly fine. He died in such a traumatic state, so maybe it’s me knowing that he’s at peace now. I don’t know.

Also this has been me every morning sitting in my office at school high as FUCK listening to Strawberry Switchblade/Rose McDowall and getting absolutely nothing done. I have absolutely cooked my Spotify Wrapped and it’s not even April.

Ok I’ll update you in another month. 🫡

#animal crossing #personal #animal crossing new leaf #acnl #new leaf

[khaire-traveler]

Hi Beloved✨🌸🩷💚💜💙💜

I’m not sure if I’m the anon you meant to resend the ask, but first of all, please let me sincerely apologize for sending it while you were on a break.🙏💛🥺 I completely missed your pinned post and for that I am sorry!! It was very kind of you to take time away to try to draft a response to me (if I’m the anon), and I really do appreciate this from the bottom of my heart!🩷🥹✨

Perhaps the draft was deleted to allow me to resend my ask with more details so you can see exactly what’s happening.

Hermès has worked with me for a while in many ways and he always comes through for me! He has shown up “romantically” in relation to my FS (Future spouse/soulmate) because I believe in the signs he has given me in relation to showing me who my FS is and their characteristics, personality and overall being.

Hermès is kind (to me), funny, athletic, generous, handsome and represents Gemini amongst other things, which I think my FS is/will embody character-wise.

This has strengthened my bond with him as well as him just coming through for me when I need something done fast or just help. He shows up, whether I ask or not. He helped me finish my over 50 page thesis paper which I was struggling and procrastinated to write, literally two weeks before the deadline. He helped my Mom along with Arch Angel Rafael to get better quickly. That is how good and powerful he is to me!

Usually, he shows up in tarot readings, in passing or dreams but the connection is always spiritual, mental and emotional. It is never physical in that sense of being in his presence or seeing him.

Recently, I asked him to help me complete one of my goals, which was to meet my FS sooner and for us to come together quicker, because there have been delays in this connection and I do get sad and frustrated over it even though I understand Divine timing and the delays.

I told him that even though I understand that the delays are most likely necessary and for a good reason, I would like them to come to an end because I want to meet my FS and I’m finally ready to reach this desire now, because it feels like right now is the time and if he could help me out with this, and finally how grateful I am for all that he does for me and I know I can trust him with this next part of my life.

I have a drying mat that I usually hang up over the dish rack in the kitchen to air it out so it dries better/faster. Usually if it falls, (which isn’t very often) it falls over the dish rack. While I was talking/praying to him, it literally just fell, hit me on the head with a plop. This has never happened before and it was a very light, funny, mischievous moment. I did not feel any malice, but of course I was shocked and felt it was him, just being playful.

This is the first physical encounter I believe I have had with him (outside of the dreams and tarot) and I’m not sure how to interpret it. I don’t know if it means, I may need to take a moment to consider the request because you do have to be careful what you ask for or more of a, don’t be silly I’ll help you do it kind of thing (I feel it’s the later, but I’m uncertain )… I don’t want to bother him to ask for anything else, but this is the one goal I really want to reach before the year ends. It was just such a powerful moment for me and I’m still shaken.

I don’t have anyone else I can ask to help me make sense of this and I know you’re very gifted, which is why I came to you🩷✨

I would really appreciate any insight and guidance you can give me, if possible. I’m so sorry that this is long and again for disturbing you on your break. I hope all is well with you and it's going well!

Thank you so so so much for everything!

🩷💚💙🤍🌸🙏

Hello, Nonny, thank you for resending this! I appreciate the added detail, and I am so sorry about the delayed response; life has been actually insane for me offline. ☠️

So firstly, I'm going to direct you to this link here which will take you to one of the sections listed on my pinned post. I believe there is some helpful information you might find there, specifically concerning interpreting signs from deities.

With that out of the way, I want to say that, honestly speaking, no one can interpret a deity sign for you. All deity signs are meant to be personalized - things that are meant to be interpreted by that specific worshipper - so what makes sense to one person might not make sense to another regarding signs. For example, Hermes tends to send me birds as signs, but for a friend of mine, who lives in the middle of a massive city, the only birds they see are pigeons, so birds aren't much help as signs. Instead, Hermes chooses to a specific mail company's trucks to them.

I say this mostly to let you know that other worshippers can't interpret - specifically such important-sounding - signs for you. I personally encourage you to rely on your own intuition here. Did it feel like a sign to you? Did it come at a strangely opportune moment? Did the sign answer a question or provide a response to something? These are just some good questions I think about when interpreting signs in my own practice.

Along with that, I'll tell you a trick I used to use at the beginning of my practice that helped a lot with interpreting signs. I personally call it The Rule of Three because I think it sounds cool. Here's how it goes: once is a coincidence, twice is a curiosity, and thrice is intentional. This helped me a lot when I struggled with over-rationalizing things and being a bit too skeptical within my practice. I'm not sure if it'd be helpful for you, and it's important to note that not every sign can be easily applied to this rule, but I hope it can help in some way.

If you want my personal opinion, though, I'd say it could be a sign of something. I don't really know what it could mean; it's possible he was just being playful with you. I encourage you to communicate with him directly through divination or other means to get a more concrete answer. If you don't know how to do divination, I have a section for it on my pinned post that may help. You could also try asking, through prayer or otherwise, for another sign from Hermes or maybe for him to send you a dream. That's typically what I do if I'm unable to do divination.

It's very nice that you had a fun little interaction with Hermes, and I hope that my answer helps you in some way, although I couldn't really give you a direct answer. No one can really speak for the gods, so it's difficult for me to say what his intentions were. :/ Regardless, though, I wish you the best of luck in finding your future partner and in continuing down your spiritual journey. Take care, and have a good day/night. 🧡

#anon asks #answered asks

[thedetectiveofinaba]

Alright, for a some sort of update on my situation: if things go as planned my Thesis Hell should be mostly over and I should graduate from Uni by this Summer. The text got approved by my supervisors, yeeted to the plagiarism system & is now looked over by the higher up folks at the system.

This doesn’t mean that I’m still 100 % active here since Hyrule Warriors for Switch and/or Limbus Company have taken over my life (and Love Live shut down its services when I was in a Thesis crunch mood and devoted my life to Project Moon’s gacha game, so RIP to that I guess) BUT I’ll strive now on emptying my Drafts and askbox & finishing that SL page I said I’d do last month.

Whoops, burnout and/or delayed effects from overdue Thesis sure affected me and I’m not going to lie on their existence but that shouldn’t affect me too much. I’m just going to take it slow and re-establish what I’m going for in this hobby.

TLDR: Reply frequency via Queue will stay as same aka 1 post per day, but Draft emptying efficiency and actual lurking will happen more often. I’m taking my time and getting the groundwork for stable boundaries in writing & balancing out online presence and RL focus.

#mun's posts #status update #do not reblog #/guess who's back (back again). that's right me #mun's musings #/it took about forever but my god it was a bs ordeal what caused a burnout

[princepestilence]

NYR: March in review

Post-March horoscope: ‘Amateur’ comes from the Latin word ‘amare’, which means to love. To do things for the love of it.

Ended up not starting on my thesis again as I’ve only just got my feedback from my supervisor due to a delay (not my fault, for a change)! So that’s the focus going forward. Instead, I did a lot of reading, and playing games, and seeing theatre, and lots of necessary and important little errands. It’s been a good month, even though I’ve been sick for the last week.

In March:

did some art. Not a lot, but a little!

read a lot -- for fun! It was really nice to give myself permission to just read whatever I wanted, without feeling like I was “wasting” valuable thesis-working time, or whatever. I’ll finally update the NYReading list.

had so much fun playing games. It’s been so good for the soul to joyfully while away my hours so guiltlessly. Can’t wait until the thesis is truly done with and then I can do this pretty much whenever I want. 

volunteered to be acting chair for the board. It was a silly silly thing to do but I am weak in any scenario where a group of people are looking around at each other waiting for someone to step up and do the necessary thing that needs to be done. The current acting chair has been begging for a replacement for about a year at this point and literally no-one else has budged so I caved under the awkward silence of everyone pretending not to hear. It’s not even a “if you want something done right” situation, it’s a “if you want a thing to exist, you’re going to have to do it yourself because no-one else is putting their hand up, good luck” situation. (I haven’t told my girlfriend yet because she’s going to do a yell at me for overworking. Don’t tell her.)

In April, I will:

read at our friends’ wedding. I’m so touched that they asked for me to read at the ceremony.

do a lot of annoying but important errands. Immovable object vs. unstoppable force: my ever-growing list of obligations versus my dedicated work ethic + stubborn optimism borne from daily medication -- FIGHT.

draft short story. There’s a neat short story + poetry anthology that’s extremely my vibe currently calling for submissions, so I want to send something in. If I can come up with and write a decent enough draft this month, I can edit it and submit before the deadline on May 31.

thesis plan + begin rework. It’s intimidating to think about this next round of writing, reading, editing, and generally making things good, but also I am very motivated to get the dissertation finished, which I hope will carry me through for the most part. I want it gone before my birthday. 

#2023 resolutions

[helassault]

Feathers | Chapter Nine: The Pocket Watch

I swiped my finger to the left on my phone, marking as 'seen' the last email from work, my eyes feel tired by looking and reading at the screen for almost the whole day, I finally turn my phone off and place it on my chest, then closing my eyes shut for a while.

The sun was not longer in the highest point in the sky, rather just about to hide, but no one have shown up yet, Celinne and I have been awaiting their arrival in the living room, me, dressed in a sweater since the weather forecast said that it´ll be quite cool today. And for Celinne, who is sitted on the couch infront of me, is dressed casual, but with her hair down, and with a concentrated look on her face, she keeps her eyes on the laptop on her lap, some time ago she told me that she has been working on her thesis before graduating, to not rush things in the last minute, but the thing is that she has been in that since the Doctor and Aida left, which is now, quite an amount of time.

Now that I’m finally done with my duties and have nothing to do for the rest of the day, I can't help but wonder where our hosts head to by night, The wom- ahem. Aida, she usually leaves the house around the afternoon, I know that because recently I have found her in the kitchen when the sun rises, I have gotten so used to the coffee when I used to work that now I can’t properly function when there isn’t any in my system, and for she, Aida arrives and heads directly to the elevator, but no glance nor word comes out of our mouths, not even a 'good morning'. Perhaps I should change that, but I'm not sure if she will even reply. She seems more like a reserved type of person.

And as for the doctor, even though he is more talkative and cheery than Aida, I can't help but feel like he is hiding something from us. And considering what we've already talked about, like the feathers and all that stuff I'm not even sure if I want to know more anymore. However we must pay attention to these little details in the way he talks since now Celinne and I must get through their secrets to know if we should trust them with the feather, I mean, what would they even wish for? They doesn’t seem to lack in any need like money nor health, maybe perhaps they’re more ambitious and want something in specific.

But to achieve that we need them to put their trust on us first.

The grand clock on the wall hits 9:30 pm. The main door creaks and surprisingly the woman enters along with a storm of wind following behind her, usually, it's always the other way around, first comes the doctor and then Aida, far much later than him. But today something feels off, perhaps the Doctor has some delay and is catching on his way back…?

Hopefully nothing bad happened.

Aida takes off her hat, then sluggished and exhaustively places it on the tall coat rack beside the door, her coat swaying along with the wind, her other hand at the handle of the door, slowly closing it. Her face looks tired, pale even, with eyelids and face down; and just for some reason, her hair seems a little wet. Just where has she been? It hasn't rained since the thunderstorm. Her figure seems awfuly familiar to me, like I have seen this before.

She reminds me of how I physically looked a few years ago, back in the days when dad was still... when he was still with us, I clearly crystal remember that when I started working in the company I was trying so hard to become like him, a hard-working man that always seemed proud and confident with the amount of piles of work he had, but he somehow always managed to finish it perfectly and due in time, It seemed like a second nature to him from others perspective. I guess it does really pays off working around the field for quite the years. And I followed his steps, followed the tips he gave me and as the years had gone long passed, thankfully I got used to working the whole day, no longer being tired because of my aggravating sleep schedule, since the motivation of his wish becoming true is the thing that keeps me going.

For that same reason is why the company is so important to me, If "Atelier" ever goes down, it will be like my dad's downfall, along with mine, and my mother, and coworkers. A long time ago, my father’s dream was to turn the company into a globally recognized brand, so that wherever he went he would see a car he designed, and be proud because of it, the thing is that he never wanted the attention on himself, but the recognition of his designs by his parents. From what I have heard from them is that they were harsh on him since he was a little artist kid, that luckily got the knowledge to how create vehicles. But my grandparents weren’t happy with his decision to follow his dream, so their relationship wasn’t the best of them all. Quite far from different to how he acted with me, always supporting me, cheering me up and congratulating me for every little thing I achieved since I remember. And for this reason, I decided to continue his legacy, to take his role, and to prove my grandparents wrong… but to how things have been lately, the falldown of Atelier is now a possibility, and I must do anything and everything to avoid this situation completely.

Blinking out of my daydream, I stand up alongside Celinne at the same time, and the cushion makes a sound that grabs Aida’s attention, she quickly turns at us alarmed, her right hand instinctively reaching behind her coat around her hip for something our eyes couldn´t reach, her analyzing eyes opened up wide.

When she noticed it was just us her eyes slowly closed as she let a long sigh while looking down. "Ah, cierto" she muttered... in Spanish? Is she not from here? before my thought wanders too long she speaks. "My apologies, time slipped by me" Then she takes a look at our clothes "I assume you are ready" Celinne replies with a nod as Aida hums in agreement "follow me then" is all she says before grabbing her hat again and... closing the main door? I thought we were going out?

With no word she walks to the kitchen, all the place iluminated by the window. Celinne's look questions me as she hesitantly closes her laptop, I mindlessly reply with a shrug while placing my phone on my pants pocket, both of us utterly confused.

We followed her into the dining room before she stopped at the kitchen counter and began to look for something in the inner pockets of her coat, While she searches Celinne began to tie her hair back in a bun, and once Aida eyes perked up up she took her right hand out of her pocket and quietly handed us an old golden pocket watch.

Celinne hesitantly took it and both of us began to examine it from up close. The lid seemed quite rusty and had exquisite carvings that draw what it seemed like some kind of bird, a long golden chain hanging from one of its ends. Aida slowly takes a step towards us and presses the crown on the bottom side of the pocket, the lid quickly opened from the inside by the time she retreated. It showed us a white clock that read 3:20, it didn't tick like my own black watch resting on my left wrist, both quite far from the actual hour.

It seemed perfectly clean from the inside like it has never opened before, and instead of the classical numbers we see every day there were roman numerals, it looked like from centuries ago, but it was well preserved.

"May I?" the woman said, We took our eyes from the pocket watch and handed it back to her once again.

She started to clear her throat as she speaked these words "Please do not alarm yourselves for what you are about to see." She says and begins to take off her right glove with her mouth, doubt places on my face, or is it concern?, what does she means by alarm? Once her hand is naked we noticed that her hand had also some bandages wrapped around her palm and some fingers, we hold not much thought to that, because when her thumb softly touches the crown of the pocket watch once again, I feel my eyes opening up wide when the carvings if the bird began to glow purple, forcing the lid to pop up, and the smaller of the hands of the clock quickly heading in regression to the "XII" ,once it reached the number it began to tick normally.

Suddenly I feel a light on the right side of my face growing beside us, When we both slowly turned to look at it there was a small purple circle growing bigger by the second, as it spiraled, it emitted brighter and brighter light along length, and when it was a little larger than me it stopped growing but it kept spiraling.

…

We both stayed stone in astonishment, words left me as I keep turning my sight from the pocket watch to this purple thing spiraling, “What in the f-“ Celinne rubbed her eyes with her hands before opening them once again "Am I dreaming?" She whispered to herself. "Miles are you seeing this?" Celinne rapidly shaked my shoulder but I couldn’t really give her an answer, catching our attention again by clearing her throat, Aida placed herself beside that thing. "This is your new reality now, So I am asking you to keep this a secret between us." She said dead serious a frown evident on her face.

"What the hell" finally escaped me, then Celinne followed with "Miles are you seeing what I AM seeing?" Viontly shaking my shoulder once again. I nod at her but keeping my eyes glued to the light. Aida interfered “The pocket watch opens a portal for us to go into a specific place from our memories" Aida positioned herself again but now in front of the portal and turning her head at us "Now with that information being said, follow me."

And with that she passed casually through the portal, disappearing into that purple spiral, me along Celine kept frozen in place, not moving an inch, "Are we supposed to just to walk into that just like that?" Celinne said to herself more than to me. After a few seconds of none of us moving Aida's gloved hand came out of the portal suggesting we take it. Celine gulped, then she looked at me slowly releasing my shoulder, taking a deep breath she began to lightly hit herself in the cheeks, hesitantly walking to the portal with her hand reaching up to Aida's, "Just close your eyes and everything will be fine" she muttered getting closer to the portal, and when she finally grabbed Aida's hand, Celinne was pulled into the portal in a quick motion as a squeak escaped her.

I started to panic at the realization and almost ran straight to the portal as if I could have reached her arm, and then I slowly took a few steps back without taking my eyes off of it. "Celinne?" I ask in the now empty kitchen, not sure if she can even hear me, then Aida's hand comes once again, I take a look at it for a few seconds, doubting if I should follow her, then unconsciously my right hand slowly gets closer to hers, but I quickly take it back in a quick motion, and as if sensing this, her fingers stretched out to me, as if telling me to trust her or just to grab her bloody hand. I slowly took a deep breath and brought my hand close once again, when my palm touches her own I feel her fingers wrapping around my wrist in a firm grip, then she quickly pulls me in, barely bearing time to close my eyes shut.

It felt like being pulled into the water, but I don't feel any wetness in my body nor clothes, and I can no longer feel the hand that was wrapped around my wrist, when I open my eyes, the strong wind blows directly on my face, bashing all my hair and clothing back, the scenery that greets me is truly one of a kind.

The last yellow, orange, and red sun rays in the horizon illuminate the whole city from where I am standing, clouds of different shades and shapes envelope us in a fantastic panoramic, The sun meeting the sea gives the water a shining golden color, some birds flow from behind us towards the sun, giving the final touch to this experience, the weather alongside the wind it's quite chilly up here but I feel no coldness, too astounded by the sky in front of me. A long sigh lowly escaping me.

I turn to look at my sides, on the right is Celine, her eyes glued to the sun setting in the distance as the ocean turns into a warm pink, admiring the horizon too, I hear steps behind me and when I turn the woman is walking to the railings on my left, she is getting way too close to the end of the floor "Watch your step" That escapes me in a reflex. She turns her eyes at me and then at my feet.

"I´m not the one who should watch my step" I look down and indeed, I am way too close to the railings, I take some careful steps back and Celinne continues "Where are we?" She begins to look around her for any clue. "On the top of the Empire State Building." Aida calmly says.

“Wait WHAT?!” Celinne finally reacts, she grabs her head as she starts a ramble “How is it even POSSIBLE?! One second ago we were in the kitchen!” Then my brain poorly processes again WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL!? She is right! How did we ended up in THE TOP of the Empire State Building?! I turn to look behind me to see that the purple thing is no longer there, replaced by the rest of the city covered in an sky blue hue where the sun rays can’t reach.

I grabbed at my hair that the wind tickled in my face with my right hand, and pushed it backwards, even if the wind ruffled it again. “How..?”

Millions of questions flood into my mind deep in thought ‘How did that purple thing bringed us here?’ ‘Can it take us anywhere we want?’ ‘Do portals REALLY exist?!’ Aren’t they a thing from magical books and fantastical novels? As I’m staring at the horizon I can’t help but feeling eyes staring at me. From my left.

I blink twice before slowly turning my head in direction of the woman, and indeed, she is staring directly at me, at my face, but I can’t describe her expression, surely she doesn’t look mad, the usual aloof look in the face replaced by something else, something that I can’t put my finger on it, instead I decide to focus on other things about her, like some strands of her hair flowing on her face, her hat is resting firm on her left hand preventing the wind from blowing it away, when I realize that she is still looking at me I break the silence “Is ev-“ “I don’t understand” I turn me head at Celinne who is wearing a troubled expression.

“Why on earth is the police looking for you? You and the doctor have shown us nothing but kindess! that you are normal citizen people! You have treated us right, and put your trust on us with something spectacular such as this!” Celinne moves her arms as if showing us the horizon. “This information could be a revolution and an eye-opening truth that could change the whole world!” Then she remained quiet for a couple of seconds reflecting on what she is just about to say.

“You are not a criminals… are you?”

And then the sky darkened, the sun rays dying behind the horizon as it’s warmth that was in our faces abandon us, as along with her eyes, her expression turning one of a cold as ice. She turned her head at the now dark horizon, the hand that is holding her hat was now clenching the fabric of it, the wind became stronger as it flew her coat around her legs.

“The doctor is not a criminal” she piercily says without turning to look at us in the eye. “He just chose the wrong ally” And with that no more words came from her.

We remain quiet as New York City welcomes the night, in some buildings the lights are becoming more and more noticeable, the sound of car horns and police sirens can still be heard even with all of this difference of height, but can only hear very faintly. However we do not take our time to appreciate this, as we stay deep in thought, replaying her words on our heads.

After a while when the cold is starting to creep up on our skin Aida talks once again after a while. “We should head back”

We nod in silence as she takes out the pocket watch again and repeats the process, once the portal is big enough that we can pass, Celinne crosses it first, no longer afraid of it, then I close my eyes to walk into the portal, and when I feel the sensation of water on my body, I open my eyes to see myself on the kitchen again, but with the lights on.

The doctor is singing a tune while he washes some dishes and flashes us an expectant smile.

“How did it went?” He cheerfully asked, I turn to the portal again waiting for Aida to return, but suddenly the spiral becomes smaller and the color fades before dissappearing completely.

[oldsyphiliticseadog]

Pretty sure I’m gonna have to delay graduation by another semester so I can finish up thesis work. Won’t be taking any actual classes, just wrapping up the work for the two incomplete theses. Got the geology one for my major and astronomy one for my second minor.

I was so sure I’d finally get to graduate, but no. I went into college with 36 credits, so I should have been finished in less than three years. But here we are, eight fucking years later, and I’m still going at it.

To be fair, one and a half of those years I wasn’t in school. I had been, then I had a mental breakdown and had to go to a treatment center in another state due to insurance. Then I realized that actually, I really love not living in the same state as my mother. So then I had to wait a year to become a resident of the new state so I wasn’t paying out-of-state tuition.

I switched majors quite a few times, so that hasn’t helped. I have 186 credits, not counting the ones currently in progress, and a degree is 120. But I also have two minors, so like. It’s slightly less bad. But it’s still bad.

But the factor that has truly stretched the whole thing out is the goddamn fucking fatigue. Hard to get shit done when I’ve got barely any energy and end up bedridden anytime I push too hard. And the biggest obstacle is the thesis work. I need to be at peak energy in order to properly read and synthesize scientific articles, or else the brain fog makes it so nothing actually sinks in. Can’t write a thesis when thinking is like wading through mud.

#i am so frustrated with the situation #and it's not as if the fatigue is getting better #it has in fact gotten worse #not even sure what i'm gonna do when i graduate #i honestly don't think i can hold down a job #or even get one #not sure who'd actually want to hire me #i have excellent grades despite everything #but that's not going to matter to an employer #what matters is how much hours i can put in #and uh. it's not much

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Devout Worshipper: Dark! Peter Parker x Professor!Reader

A/N: So this girl here tried something else. I’ve been wanting to upload since long but this got delayed a lot and now I have several WIPs but finished this first. Sorry not proofread. I’m still discovering my writing style and my forte and thank you for staying and witnessing my experiments! Wear safety goggles please.

Summary: The best of all the educators yet, both smart and stunning, became Peter’s mentor in university. Peter grew too much of a liking for her, from a clingy scholar to her devout worshipper.

WARNING: STORY AHEAD HAS NON-CON, KIDNAPPING, POSSIBLE DRUGGING, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOUR, OBSESSION. DNI IF TRIGGERED.

You sat on the teacher’s desk, going through the latest thesis published by Dr. Banner last week. He had given you one of the several copies and asked you to go through it and your judgement on it. The classroom was slowly filling in as the scholars stacked in, their buzzes growing loud with each passing trice.

You were on the last paragraph of your current page when a slight thump made you break out of your stupor, you tilted your head up to find a brawny youngster leaning in front of you, with his hand planted beside your ass on the ebony desk. He had blonde locks with grey eyes and was definitely a sports’ team captain, basketball you believed, who had his own posse of wannabes behind him.

You kept the paper down in your lap and met his eyes again with an inquiring look. “Yes?”

“You seem new. Me and my guys will save you a seat at the back, so come there when your little reading session is over, babe.” He said smugly, his eyes brimming with mischievousness as they dipped to your cleavage not-so-subtly and stood there gawking while he awaited your response.

You paused to see the whole class had gone quiet watching your encounter with the jock. You gave him a sickly-sweet smile as you nodded shyly for show and he tapped your knee with his other hand before leaving. As soon as his back faced you, you rolled your eyes so hard at his antics you heard the first-benchers gasp. You could still hear him talking to his ‘friends’, “I love myself a badass girl like her.”

You returned to your thesis but before you could finish the last few sentences, the bell rung and you had to stop. Thanks blondie.

You got down from the desk, jumping on your black heels as you made your way over to the door, closing it as lock clicked into place.

The entire class was watching you with quizzical glances as you stood in front of your desk this time and wrung your hands together, “Good morning class and congratulation on making it to your second year in college, I will be your mentor and also your lecturer for biology for this semester and for those who pass, also their next one.” The entire class’ jaw slackened and you giggled lightly as waited for them to digest the news, and then told them your name.

“I know a lot of you see science itself as a chore but since you’ve already taken it, I suggest you try to pay attention as you will have to study it anyways. However, because I can relate to your struggles, I will try my best to be a companion or advisor, whichever way you prefer it, and help you get through the class with flying colours hopefully. So, ask me anything, no matter how stupid or absurd you believe your doubt or query is. I’ll answer as many times as you ask and trust me when I say that I am a woman of my word. You have any questions for the semester?” You finished with a bright smile on your face as you saw the students in the front relax slightly. At least you had their approval.

“Ma’am” The blonde kid started without raising his hand, stressing the word unnecessarily as he and his horde sniggered at some stupid inside joke, and continued, “Can I have your number?”

Some of the students gulped while the others leaned forward interested in your response. That kid thought he could fluster you by putting you in a weird spot. He smirked arrogantly, leaning back in his chair as you raised your eyebrows.

“That, Mr.?” You paused as you lingered for his answer, which came almost immediately.

“Flash Thompson, but you can call me whatever you want baby.”

His friends hooted at his pickup line, some praising his smoothness while some high-fived him.

“That, Mr. Thompson, is an excellent example of the stupid questions I mentioned formerly. Thank you for helping me make it clearer to the rest of the class, an extra point for you in the first grading assignment.”

His face fell as his jaw ticked and you turned to face the rest of the class again, “Though I suppose I will give you my number but for emergency purposes only, you can contact me on my e-mail though which I will be using most frequently. You are supposed to mail me majority of your papers this semester and the grading pattern is expected to change this time around but I will inform you of that when the time for the first assignment comes around. Any other questions, and if possible, a bit wiser ones?”

Peter knew he liked you that day. You were attractive and stunning, yes, that too in the natural way, without make-up and tight clothes. But of course, there was more to you than that, you were smart and witty, hence a young lecturer in this esteemed college and you being a science enthusiast as well was like chocolate chips on top of a well baked dessert. You were spirited and jaunty and your sardonic and sassy replies were never degrading or humiliating. The five-year difference between you and the class made you their elder sibling rather than professor.

The first benchers worshipped your intellect while the last benchers adored your sarcasm. Everyone could see how you gave your all to teach, every trick for learning, showing real skeletons and organs in formalin, easily becoming the favourite mentor ever. You could easily be labelled as the university’s crush of the year.

But Peter soon began to despise that. The perverted comments by the students and jealous, snarky remarks by the plastics irked him. He was enraged by the geeks admiring you but baffled all the more by the strange palette of emotions he had never suffered before.

The sheer envy he was sinking in had never even surfaced while he dated Liz or MJ. For him you were a Goddess, tons divine than his exes or any other female for that matter, who should be properly worshipped and treasured.

He knew these sentiments weren’t right, but in this twisted world where he had combatted with unnatural beings and seen unimaginable horrors, he began to believe morality is just fiction used by the herd of inferior men to hold back the few superior men.

It was the last day before spring break and no matter how much your pupils loved you, it wasn’t enough for them to not get distracted and murmur around. Only half of your entire class’s strength came and that half somehow managed to create more ruckus than usual. Even you were minutes late, not in the mood to teach this aloof and uninterested batch of youngsters.

You sat on the table and crossed your legs, which was somewhat your habit that you weren’t really proud of but continued to indulge in nonetheless, and cleared your throat times to catch the attention of the unmindfully fantasizing students.

The baritone of the males and shrieky pitches of the females made you clutch your head. You were sure going to end with disprin at the end of day. You clapped loudly and effectively so, gathered the class’s attention, but by the roll of their eyes and glares on their faces, you deduced they weren’t happy. Who would have thought?

“Okay, before you all slaughter me to the netherworld with your lethal gazes, let me make it clear that no teaching will commence today.” The class hollered appreciatively and whistled, while you paused to let them do so. Teaching on the last day before a vacation was like speaking to yourself only but with the consequence of your name being added to several hitlists.

“I’ll distribute the graded assignments submitted last Thursday and then, since I’m required to clock thirty minutes of educating at the bare minimum, we can play something, maybe you have some talents to show, principles to mock or some gossip to attend to.” The college kids laughed at your poor joke, perhaps too thrilled for their break that nothing could make their mood sour. “We’ll see accordingly, but first, raise your hand when I say your name, I want to learn at least the names of the students who bothered to come to uni on the concluding day.”

You distributed the papers back, making sure to associate each name with a face and the students took them stuffing it straight inside, not bothering to check their scoring and possibly wreck their mood.

“Peter Parker?” A hand raised in the second last row shyly, a flustered boy with glasses on his nose and a hoodie covering his head. He barely made eye contact and you smiled at his nervy, edgy form hoping to ease him a bit. Your heels sounded heavy against the few stairs as you made your way to the back, the class buzzing with laughs as students barely paid you any heed.

The draught of epinephrine Peter felt was unlike anything he had ever felt before, nothing like the anxiety on the battlefield or the excessive sweating while impressing Mr. Stark. The apprehension he felt was decuple that.

It’s not like he had never talked to you afore, he constantly asked clever doubts, which he knew the answer to already, of course, to make an impression on you, but that was with a two feet and 7.5 inches of teacher’s desk in between. Yes, he measured. He had even made sure a couple times, let’s be honest, more than several times that his Goddess had arrived her fascinating abode safely.

But this time, they’d be hardly half a foot apart and the anticipation was tearing him apart. He did want her close, in all ways possible, but was he ready enough to not make a fool of himself? All his previous conversations were thought out meticulously and beforehand but was ready for a spontaneous interaction?

“Good job, Smart Cookie.” You mused at Peter with a wink and dropped the paper on his desk as he looked at you with those innocent, doe-eyes of his, his cheeks and nose a tad bit rouge.

Peter’s hearing ability got lost as the sound of his heart pumping blood filled his tympanum. He could only watch you retreat back to the front of the class, your hips swaying invitingly in that damned black pencil skirt as you called another person’s name.

Smart Cookie was his favourite nickname now.

It was pretty late when you left the university premises, finishing up all you had to and even preparing for your first week of teaching after vacation because you knew how procrastinating errands went.

You couldn’t almost believe how you were on the adult end of things, making sure and guiding other people. With the job, came a lot of obligations that you had to fulfil and being responsible was hard, really demanding. You suddenly had a lot of reverence for all the teachers in your life, from kindergarten to your degrees.

You were on a sabbatical from research temporarily, signing a teaching contract for three years minimum and you were satisfies with the refreshment. Interacting young, curious minds was almost like a recreational activity you indulged in free time and the various angles they approached science at even taught you something. The scholars found it in themselves to even question well-established biology.

Slightly humming, you made a mental checklist of what all was left to do for your solo, self-discovering trip the next week. All that you should pack, clothes according to the weather in the hills and enough emergency eatables. Maybe you could revisit the work-in-progress papers of yours or maybe it would be a leisure excursion only.

Only you never made it to your flight.

 The pounding of your head made a thrumming noise in your head, increasing its tempo and volume with each passing instant. Your eyelids felt heavy and opening them felt like a chore, which even more difficult considering the light that flooded your vision with every bit they opened. Your senses felt overwhelmed being burdened and strained with their everyday tasks after what you assumed to be at least hours of inactivity.

The sudden spike of pain shooting in your head made you jerk your hand to clutch your throbbing forehead, only to fail and find your hands bounded to something. They weren’t cuffed or shackled, nothing dug in your wrist either. Maybe a rope but the texture wasn’t rough enough. After what felt like minutes, you opened your eyes and sat up, as straight as your confined self could, and looked around.

The room was shades of grey and blue, a giant bed was where you were sitting. The giant ceiling to floor windows beside you, cast enough moonlight in the bedroom for you to see the entire bedroom. The view outside was so picturesque, that you had been gawking were you not afraid of your surroundings. You could discern you were high up, with how small the vehicles looked and another wave terror ran through you.

A white desk with a blue chair had a laptop atop it, also sitting beside several books. You would have noticed them being your subject and recommendation but you were scanning your brain as to how you landed here. With your vision now clearer, you saw your restraints to be like silk but no matter how hard you pulled, they didn’t snap.

You were full on panicking and staring wide eyed when the laptop entered your vision again. There was no other electronic except it and you calmed yourself to think rationally. Deep breaths, in and out. Your best bet right now was to hope that the laptop was connected to someone’s wifi.

You slid off the edge of the bed and tried to cut the weird silk ropes with bedside table’s corner. It took some time but you succeeded, your hands freed from the poster of the bed as you made your way towards the laptop, after checking the locked door of course.

Another wave of panic ran through you when the laptop wasn’t connected to anything and all available connections were password protected. You noticed the laptop to be brand new, and of a very expensive company that was out of your budget. You also noticed the OS was very different, not the usual Windows you ran. Your AI Cortana in this overpriced gadget, was named Karen.

You still refused to wait for your captor to show up and snooped to find something on the laptop, anything. There was no profile of the owner but you did manage to find at least three GB of videos and images.

Your hands froze and eyes widened when you saw the security footage of your building’s outside, the little bakery’s neon sign confirming the location. The videos were the same, of you entering and exiting every day, just the dates on the videos varied.

Another folder had clips with the same dates, but they were in the lobby of your apartment, your potted plants outside your door the affirmation again. It showed you getting milks and newspaper every morning, ordering take out several days and placing the garbage bags outside.

The earliest date in each folder was after your first month of moving here, second week of teaching probably.

When you opened the third folder, as the video started your hands covered your mouth as you tried your best to hold back the sob and making a noise. The screen showed two camera screens, both inside your apartment. The first showed the living room clearly and your kitchen and you concluded it to be behind some article on the bookshelf.

The other screen showed your bedroom.

You could still see the floral bedsheet with the white quilt atop it. Your red suitcase that you took out from the storage for your trip this morning, resting beside the wall. Your lamp switched on from when you mayhap left it on, already late for the last day of work. As the time hit 12 AM at the bottom of the screen, the video ended and played again. There were even more folders and you wondered how far would the surveillance go, till your bathroom?

Your abductor had live footage of your house being sent to his laptop and that scared you shitless. This was not a random crime, that ransom could end. You were here for something, some sick purpose you didn’t even know. Was this a hate crime? Would you even make it-

“I really wish you hadn’t looked there.”

The deep, familiar voice amplified your fear and you turned your head slowly, almost comically to look at him. Another gasp escaped your lips as you found warm eyes of your student and brows furrowed in confusion and fear when you saw the deranged lust in his eyes. Was this some sick prank?

“What am I doing here and what is this?” You gestured to the screen playing footages of the inside of your house. Seeing someone familiar and the probability of this being a prank should have calmed you somewhat but the revolting trick and the strange darkness in the boy’s eyes made you even more wary.

As he took a step closer, you hastily climbed out of the chair and backed away, nearing the bed again as he locked the door and closed in on you. He made a move to snatch you and you jumped to the other side of the bed barely missing him by an inch. You reached for the door hoping to find it unlocked but it didn’t even budge.

You pulled even harder while being painfully aware of how that kid from your class just sat on the bed and observed, having the utmost confidence in the door. Your frenzied state got a jump-scare when a female voice broke the silence, “Authorization to access locked doors is granted to Mr. Parker only, please refrain from damaging the property, Mam.”

So some tech-boy with a rich background is set on you?

“Please sit on the bed and I’ll explain, please.”

His doe eyes would have fooled you were you not extremely aware of your environment due to the adrenaline coursing through your arteries. He was an exceptionally good actor, you had to give him that. You prided yourself to be an excellent judge of character and here this guy had deceived you for three months.

The AI called him Parker, what was his name again?

Patrick? Peyton? Peter? Yes, Peter Parker.

“Peter?” You softly called out and his eyes widened as a blush crept up to his cheeks as he relished the fact that you remembered his name. You sighed internally, praying that this was a case of a harmless crush gone wrong and he was just innocently hopeful. The image of his dark, lust covered eyes crossed your mind to make an argument but you pushed it aside to calm your nerves and stay as relaxed as you possibly could with all that was happening.

“I know that this is all a big misunderstanding but you are really scaring me here. Can you please at least let me out of this room to somewhere open?” You looked at him, hoping to talk him down and get out. You didn’t think he would hurt you but you weren’t willing to take any chances with this maniacal youngster either.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that, you’ll run.”

Of course, you’ll run, who wouldn’t?

“Peter, boy, listen to me-”

“No, you listen to me! I admit the situation isn’t ideal and you’re probably terrified because of your meddling but this is all for you! I’m here to protect you! The world out there isn’t safe and your heavenly self needs to be resuscitated.”

“Peter, you’re not making any sense. I’m an adult, older than you and you need to understand boundaries-”

“I’ve seen the way of the world, trust me, in fact, far more than you have! Did you know that raping and murdering women on Asgard is considered a common crime? How Hydra is kidnapping young, bright women to exploit them for breeding projects? How the Red Skull resurfaced and his ideals now include eradicating women from Earth as well?”

“Pete-”

“No, you don’t know! You are just blissfully unaware of this world, so oblivious you don’t even how know the perverted and debauched comments your own class makes?”

His outburst frightened you as you felt yourself losing control of the situation, maybe you never were in control. But now the unleashed fury on Peter’s face told you that had triggered an irrevocable topic.

“Calm down, it’s alright.” You said quietly, hoping to ease him again but his steps towards made you back up yourself to the other side of the bed.

“You, You are still scared of me, aren’t you? You still don’t understand, do you? I’ll show you, show you how much I worship you, the true extent of my devotion.” Every ludicrous declaration of his bit away your hope of getting out.

As he approached you again from the foot of the bed, you jumped across the bed again, hoping to reprise your stunt from before. However, your jumping halted midway as something glued your right wrist to the headboard and you jerked due to inertia of movement. As your eyes looked to your hand, the same silky rope met your vision.

You did not have the time or the wits to ponder over the fluid, about how your abductor shot it or how it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard you pulled. A hand on your ankle prompted you to try one last time as you screamed as loud as you could, for as long as your lungs allowed.

“It won’t work, Mr. Stark got me a soundproofed apartment. Pretty cool, right?”

A sob wracked through your entire frame as the tears descended, the frustration and hopelessness and dread, all attacking you at once. Your legs kicked and flexed and when your left fist swung, he restrained all your limbs after dodging, of course.

“I just want to love you, is it too much too ask?” He asked in a quiet whisper, his hands undressing you cloth by cloth; first unzipping the side of your pencil skirt and unwrapping it, then unbuttoning your blouse. When he brought out a pocket knife, your eyes instinctively closed, a “Please don’t hurt me” falling from your lips.

“Never.” He replied with absolute assurance.

The blade cut through your blouse first, leaving you in your garments while Peter sat back on his knees to admire you. You’ve been flattered with the adoration in his eyes had you not gone through the mayhem that you had.

His hand caressed your curves, feeling the soft skin underneath as he took his time admiring you, committing each feature to memory while your tears poured, your eyes never leaving the knife he held.

The blade invaded your privacy once again as it took away your last pieces of defense, leaving you utterly nude and your cries wreaked havoc in the otherwise quiet room. Your eyes found Peter face and you noticed his eyes twinkling in admiration trailing up and down your body several times. His disciple complex was scaring you, you almost bordered considering his Goddess belief.

“So stunning.” He whispered as he came down to kiss you, his lips meeting yours in this bruising embrace of both your mouths and as he began to undress himself simultaneously, his dramatics became the least of your concerns. The thought of the inevitable future made home in your mind and gave you one last bout of courage to try and fight.

The restraints on your limbs didn’t even budge and every fleck of hope deserted your body when you saw the chiseled abs on his scarred torso, his biceps bulging and silently warning you into staying put. He made quick work of his remaining outfit and his hard, angry member was bigger than you had anticipated.

You had not expected a stereotypical nerd to be packing, with muscles and brawns, hardly to even expect him to be the largest among the ones you had ever experienced.

“Please don’t.” You mumbled, defeated, knowing he would not listen. You closed your eyes expecting the intrusion to get it over with. You were caught off handed when you felt him shift and devour into your pussy. He feasted like a man famished, his tongue leaving no area unlapped. The sparks in your abdomen made you queasy and giddy at the same time, you could barely open your eyes due to the intensity of his actions and when he added two of his shockingly calloused fingers, you let go of the coil in mere seconds.

Your limbs sat limp while your vision whitened, your mind foggy and hazy, deprived of all sensibility. When his thick thighs rested on top of yours, your gaze ascended to meet his already staring pupils, the warm, honey brown orbs now a black abyss. You couldn’t even protest in your blissful state as lined himself and entered your cavern, which was lubricated enough courtesy of him.

The stretch burned but as he rocked himself and thrusted with a rhythm, the pleasure started building from scratch. Each push was sturdier than the last and every spot he hit managed to make your breath hitch. Your hands and legs freed as the fluid perhaps melted but the last of your energy was being used by you to stay conscious. When he descended to kiss you once again and trailed kisses to your collarbone, your hands held onto him for support, his biceps providing anchor to you, made of pure muscle.

His teeth bruised your skin as he lightly bit your neck, reaching his end and releasing his load. The warmth that filled you made you let go, his orgasm encouraging another one from you.

Your eyes drooped, your body filled with exhaustion due to all the struggling as you curled in to your side and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to forget your abductor and the forceful, mind shattering ecstasy you felt. Your refused to think about the guilt and the uncertainty of your impending doom in the hands of this maniacal student of yours. You just wished for sleep, for some peace alone.

The wish of yours was not granted when you felt Peter slide behind you, his hand wrapping around your middle as if you were lover. You still gave into slumber, but not before feeling him peck your shoulder with a promise.

“This devotee of yours will worship you forever and always, Goddess.”

#peter parker #peter #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #Dark Fic #dark mcu #dark!peter parker #dark!mcu #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!tom holland #tom holland #tom holland fic #dark!marvel #dark!spiderman #spiderman #teacher reader #mcudarklibrary #ray writes

[quirkysubject]

This is a German music journalist's recollection of meeting Queen in March 1973.

It offers an interesting glimpse into how Queen’s PR worked in the very early days, before the first album was even out.

~~~

From Underground to Mainstream

A cloudy day in London, 1973. It’s March, and the weather can’t decide between spring and winter, and of course it’s raining. I have an appointment with Paul McCartney at the office of his publicist, Tony Brainsby. He also looks after Cat Stevens, and he’s promised me a photo session afterwards. 

Ten o’clock on the dot I’m at the office - you don’t let Paul McCartney wait. Unfortunately, the same doesn’t apply the other way round… His publicist apologises profusely: “He’s still in Scotland, the plane from Edinburgh hasn’t landed yet. No reason to worry… he’ll be here eventually. In the meantime, why don’t we listen to the tapes of a new group. They have been finished just tonight. If you like it, you can interview them until Paul comes in.”

Tired, pale and a little narrow-faced*, the four gentlemen Freddie Mercury, Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor were sitting on a sofa in the office. More than six months of hard work in the studio lay behind them. For April 9th, they’ve a gig planned at the legendary Marquee Club - home and birthplace of many stars - where they intend to present their album to the English music press. And now I was going to be the first journalist who had the honour to listen to those songs? Brainsby had no only piqued my interest, but also my vanity. Soon, Keep Yourself Alive was hammering from the speakers. Pure, hard, driven rock. Brainsby didn’t have to say anything else. It shreds - and Paul McCartney is almost forgotten. 

I wanted the interview and explained to the guys that we always need photographs for BRAVO. Brian immediately agreed to take me and the photographer to his home - to Feltham**, where he had a basement room. He lived there with his cat, showed us the table where he had built his own guitars, and a desk full of books. May studied astrophysics and was preparing his PhD thesis, which he would, with some years’ delay, eventually hand in. We then drove to the noble borough of Kensington with John*** and Freddie. They rented a shop with another friend, and sold Indian garments, incense sticks, silver jewellery, and other arts and crafts. They only gave up the shop completely in 1975. With Freddie, John, and Brian, we had a unique photo session, which wouldn’t have been possible in this way a only couple of months later. 

By the way: I did meet Paul McCartney eventually, in the afternoon. There had never been a ten o’clock appointment, he said. It seems like the clever Brainsby had tricked me with an ancient PR ploy to get publicity for a band that was still at the beginning of its career, and which would only take off as Queen about a year later. I wasn’t upset about it. Not even when the editorial office wasn’t interested in my newcomer story and didn’t want to print it, or when those brilliant photos disappeared into the archives****. 

My gut feeling was: Those guys will make it. Be patient, Siggi. Patience was what distinguished BRAVO in general, and the editorial office in particular in the seventies. In addition to that, there was a good intuition for up-and-coming groups and trends, like green fingers for talents, and a very keen eye for the English and American market. But in contrast to today, we had one significant advantage: BRAVO set the trends. If you didn’t make it onto our pages, you didn’t stand a chance. 

This predominant position offered room for experimentation. Apart from the obligation to write about the groups that topped the BRAVO charts and were the most popular among our readers, there was also the little extra on top: We were free to find out what the kids out there wanted and what not. And this principle worked with Queen as well. A couple of small reports first as a trial run, then a page in early 1974, when interest had been stoked by the first hit Seven Seas of Rhye, and later colourful spreads, home stories, posters, Queen had to be featured almost every week - success bred its own success. BRAVO got all the stories it wanted, was allowed backstage during tours, into the dressing rooms  - privileges that many colleagues could only dream of. Because those four never forgot our meeting in Tony Brainsby’s office.

~~~

* ”schmalgesichtig” - I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean. Perhaps something like sour-faced.

** He either misremembers the place, or Brian had taken him to his parents house.  

*** It’s more likely that’s Roger, given the fact that they drive to the market.

**** as far as I know, those photos haven’t appeared in the meantime. So a trip to the BRAVO archives might be worthwhile...

~~~

Siggi Niedergesäß in: Teddy Hoersch, BRAVO 1956 - 2006, pp 378-381.

My translation.

#bravo #early queen #my stuff

[phynali]

so not to ruminate on things that vex me, but the past 2 or so months have been kinda shit, and i’m trucking along and there absolutely are high points and good things and joys that balance some of this out, but i need to vent out some of the negative emotions somewhere to get ‘em out. so i guess i’m doing that here because - 

we’re in lockdown#6 where i live (state of victoria) and it’s hard, this yo-yo of restrictions and swinging in and out of one lockdown after another. 

for those who understandably won’t know, what we call lockdown here means not just restaurant and commercial closures and mandatory working from home unless you’re in an industry where that’s impossible -- it also means no guests (0) inside you’re home unless you’re both living alone and single or else romantic partners, it means not leaving your home at all except for one of 4-5 necessary reasons, not being outside for more than 2hrs per day even to exercise, and not going more than 5km from your home unless required for work/medical/etc required reasons.

it’s intense. we spent (i think) 128 days in this degree of lockdown in 2020, never mind how many we spent in other forms of restrictions and working from home. and we’ve been back in it four (4) times in 2021 already. in-out-in-out-in-out - 

it’s taking a toll on the mental health of every person i know. we get weekly emails with wellbeing and resilience tips from my job -- not just “be productive or else” capitalism but heartfelt ones from wellbeing officers with copies of articles like this one on languishing from the NYT, acknowledging we’re all struggling and directing us to the plethora of wellbeing resources our workplace is trying to provide, not only to us but reminding us they offer it to our families too.

i’m one of the lucky ones. i’m really not trying to wallow here or to pretend otherwise. i appreciate that i can work from home, even though i can’t focus when i do and it this interacts with my adhd to fuck my productivity. even if i’m so behind and delayed it feels like i’ve lost 12-18 months worth of work and it will have long-term ramifications on my career -- even so, i still i have a job. i still get paid. and i even kept my job, a bit by the skin of my teeth but i did, when my sector downsized last year. yes, the way my employer went about lay offs left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth (my own included), but i made it through. 

and my sector, while affected, is by no means the worst of the collateral damage.

the yo-yo of lockdowns is taking a very very real toll on industries like hospitality, tourism, commerce. and the economy does have indirect effects on health and mental health as well. my friend, a waitress, was on her way to work the evening shift at a restaurant when she got the call about the latest lockdown. she had to turn around and go home because the announcement came just hours before the lockdown was imposed, and every place suddenly had to close by 8pm. bye bye evening shift. so much of the government support for these industries has dried up, has been inadequate. 

lockdowns save lives. i don’t begrudge my state for imposing one except that yes -- i’m resentful we’re here again with only six cases. i can be both accepting and grateful and also pissed and tired and more all at once. 

even more than the latest lockdown, i’m pissed about the yo-yo. that we went into lockdown in june, came out in july, went back in in july, came back out in july, are going back in now, in the first week of august. three lockdown/re-openings in 10 weeks, as if this rollercoaster doesn’t completely incapacitate our ability to plan or prepare for anything more than a week out, more than a day out -- in this case, more than a few hours out. 4pm the lockdown was announced, with an 8pm start time. as if that doesn’t have more insidious consequences on individuals and industries than a more clearly articulated and consistent approach. as if all the restaurants that got to open up this week didn’t purchase large food orders for this weekend that will spoil because they were given 4 hours notice to close their doors.

that’s the part i hate, right now more than the lockdowns themselves. consumer sentiment was at a high in april, optimism was everywhere. people felt good, and like we had a plan forward. now -- well, now my job is sending me emails about how normal and okay it is that i might be ‘languishing’ because aren’t we all?

and i absolutely do begrudge my federal government, and i’m angry with them, and this is part of why:

but i also accept, to some extent, that these decisions have all been made in difficult circumstances, and i’m not really about to pretend i could do any better. 

at the same time, australia’s vaccine rollout is among the slowest and lowest at least within OECD countries. i know that’s partly because we’ve managed the keep cases low and therefore we are prioritized less when it comes to who needs the vaccines most (and thus who is earlier in line to be able to purchase) among other geo-political reasons i won’t get into, but it still very much sucks. our timeline and ability to move forward and ability to stop having lockdowns requires a mostly-vaccinated population, and that’s not something we’ll have anytime soon.

and i am a visa-holder here and my family is back in canada and with our current border restrictions leaving to visit is honestly is not an option because i wouldn’t be able to return, to work. i’m managing that distance okay most of the time despite my homesickness and frustration but my partner’s parents are older and his mother’s health just isn’t amazing and it’s weighing on him a lot. 

a phd student i work with just had a parent die in another country while stuck here, had to drop everything to return, is devastated by not being by their parent’s side when it happened because it came on sudden, and now won’t be able to come back into australia after, will have to finish their thesis remotely from abroad. stories like that are becoming commonplace in certain circles, here. this student is not the first or only person i know who has been in that exact situation in the past year.

it’s enraging, and upsetting, and instills a sense of helplessness because -- there’s nothing that can really be done about it. there’s no good answer, but it’s scary to think of what could happen. i know it scares my husband. if his mother’s health suddenly dips -- does he drop everything and leave? how can he not? would i go with him or hold the fort here? what ramifications does that have either way?

right now, we’re in the first stages of getting permanent residency, my job is putting in the nomination, and this is one of those awesome high-points i mentioned. it’s a very much needed sense of security in my career and my future in this country. but while a PR application is pending and under review, you can’t leave the country, even in pre-covid times. it takes months to get the application fully nominated, accepted, then submitted, and months on months to process.

in january 2020 we had agreed that for xmas 2020 we’d return home to canada. obviously the world changed and we quickly determined that wouldn’t be the case. we pushed that plan back to july-aug 2021, then to october 2021, xmas 2021. my partner’s sister asked him last week if we started making plans, booking things for xmas, was calling to check that we’d had our second jabs. he had to explain the situation to her, that we aren’t even eligible for our first vaccine yet, that we aren’t holding out any real hope of visiting, not this year, not until mid-next.

anyway - i’m just. languishing, i guess, if that’s the word for it after all. i know it’s not the same as depression -- i’ve had episodes of that, been treated for it in different ways. this is and feels different, even if there are obvious similarities. whatever to call it, it sucks, and i hate it. and i hate the other lows and anxieties and crap i’ve been dealing with in the past few months as well that didn’t make it into this post about covid. crap with work, with friends, with goddamn car rentals of all stupid things. crap that’s making me anxious and crap that just needs processing. crap that is, ultimately, massively exacerbated because lockdowns turn us into little rats gnawing on the bars of our cages.

and i guess i just needed to talk about it somewhere, to organize my thoughts and free up some headspace (emotion space?) currently being used to hold these thoughts and feelings in place. i kind of hate posting personal crap like this and always get the urge to delete but i also have a hard time organising my thoughts if i don’t write them out with this intent to post. sort of want to go outside and scream at god, sort of want to phone up a friend and yell at him for an hour for being an exhausting ass, sort of want to be alone for a day to curl up under a blanket with a movie that’ll make me cry because raging at the universe is always so much easier when i’m alone and unobserved. but i guess since those aren’t especially kind or feasible i’ll post this instead.

anyway - if you read to the end of this for any reason, i’m not trying to be maudlin, and there’s really no need to respond. it’s just a feelings dump, sucking some of the poison out, not really much different than journalling but i’ve always been better at that online than on paper. 

#ugh #personal post #just organising thoughts and bitching about present circumstances #because i'm tired of 2021's bullshit and needed to vent a bit #gpoy

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Idle Chat with Shaw

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a feature which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The CN server was recently graced with a new feature called 随便聊聊 (“Idle Chat”), where you can select a mood and talk to the love interests about work, life, and studies :>

Idle Chat with: Gavin / Kiro / Lucien / Victor

[ WORK - Topic 1: Overtime ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I don’t have to work overtime today! No overtime! I really don’t-- have-- overtime!

Shaw: I can sense your noisiness from your words.

Shaw: Since you want to kick up a racket

Shaw: Come watch our performance. You can scream and shout all you want.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I read a news article today which said that the more one does overtime work, the more efficiency goes down. I think what it says makes sense...

Shaw: It’s supposed to

Shaw: You’re not a robot

Shaw: Why are you always making yourself live like clockwork?

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I have to work overtime again and again. Why are there so many things to do every day? My life has already taken the shape of overtime!!

Shaw: Mm, this is your ninth day of overtime this month

Shaw: It’s really quite a lot

Shaw: What time are you busy until? I’ll see if I’d be near your office at that time.

-

[ WORK - Topic 2: Income ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I finally got my pay! My shopping cart can finally be tidied up. I plan to get ALL colours of the spray paint you mentioned the last time.

Shaw: ...are you usually such a squanderer? 

Shaw: I think you should get two basic colours to practise your skills

Shaw: When it comes to graffiti, it’s not as if the more gaudy the colours are, the better it looks.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: The case I’ve been handling recently started off with an interesting concept. After changing it, it seems to have sunk into mediocrity. I feel perplexed.

Shaw: What’s there to feel perplexed about

Shaw: Haven’t you already found the answer

Shaw: Since you know it’s mediocre, don’t be satisfied with mediocrity. 

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: There was something I really wanted to buy, so I waited till my payday to reserve it. In the end, it has a higher price now!!

Shaw: If it’s something I really want

Shaw: I’ll buy it directly

Shaw: The more you delay, the further it’d go from you.

-

[ WORK - Topic 3: Program Progress ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: My colleagues and I completed an incredibly perfect proposal! Everything will be fine once it gets approved!

Shaw: No wonder you’ve been telling me that you’re busy these days when I ask you out to have fun

Shaw: I’ll let you rest at home these two days

Shaw: Your time after that has been reserved by me.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: Every time it’s the end of the month, I’d start counting down to payday. Or else I’ll have no motivation to work at all...

Shaw: It’s so boring to countdown to payday,

Shaw: Countdown to something else

Shaw: For example, that there are only three more hours till you get to see me. 

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I suspect the other party is doing this on purpose. The program is almost about to be approved and now it got delayed by half a month! I’m never working with that company again!

Shaw: Since there’s still half a month

Shaw: Why spend half a month angry

Shaw: Let’s go, I’ll take you to do something that’d not make you angry.

-

[ WORK - Topic 4: Program Results ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: Didn’t expect that this program would be so uncomplicated! I even thought I’d have to work overtime over the weekend, but I no longer have to. I’ll come find you at Live House over the weekend!

Shaw: Not bad, your other party is finally behaving.

Shaw: But I won’t be around this weekend

Shaw: Find me in the library

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: This program is finally over. I don’t have much of a desire to participate in the celebratory feast. I just feel that I’m finally free!

Shaw: Don’t celebrate that program

Shaw: Come join my band’s celebratory feast.

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I took out a 50 cent coin to “assassinate” the other party. The other party is not only fussy, but also dares to lag behind in payment!

Shaw: He’s already behind in payment

Shaw: And you’re still hounding him for 50 cents?

Shaw: biu--

Shaw: All right, I’ve “assassinated” him already.

[Note] “biu” is meant to represent the sound of a bullet flying by!

🦈

[ LIFE - Topic 1: Losing Weight ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: The weight loss methods I collected were actually really useful. I’ve finally slimmed down by quite a lot! I can wear new clothes to the music festival now!

Shaw: You haven’t been drinking cola or milk tea recently

Shaw: Because of this?

Shaw: That outfit you prepared - even without losing weight, you’d still look pretty good in it.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: Why haven’t I slimmed down even after trying so many methods...

Shaw: Watching you change methods to lose weight is pretty interesting

Shaw: Feels like I can write a thesis based on Pi Li Pa La

[Note] “Pi Li Pa La” (噼里啪啦) is one of Shaw’s nicknames for MC

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I. Put. On. Weight. Again.

Shaw: All

Shaw: The

Shaw: Best

Shaw: In

Shaw: Losing

Shaw: Weight

-

[ LIFE - Topic 2: Meals ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: Today, I discovered a small stall along the street! It’s very delicious!! I think you’ll also like the taste

Shaw: I haven’t even eaten it

Shaw: How do you know that it’s a taste I like?

Shaw: Arrange a timing, we’ll go together.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I visited a hotpot stall which is famous on the internet. It ended up being pretty much the same as the stall I usually go to...

Shaw: These stalls are all the same

Shaw: Focused on sales, and don’t create new flavours

Shaw: Next time, I’ll take to a hotpot place - that one can be called delicious.

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I went for hotpot today. In the end, the chilli oil splattered onto my clothes... It was a new outfit I just bought - I’m so mad!

Shaw: ...

Shaw: Are you stupid? Next time, wear an apron when you eat.

Shaw: So how did the hotpot taste?

-

[ LIFE - Topic 3: Reading ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: Yesterday, I chanced upon an especially good fiction book. I ended up being too engrossed in it, so it was daytime by the time I lifted my head...

Shaw: Sure.

Shaw: The “staying up late” champion goes to you

Shaw: I’ll be forced to take second place for a day.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I recently read a fiction book. The author kept writing about eating, sleeping, and building a garden... And she could actually write over 2000 pages worth of such day-to-day accounts??

Shaw: ...

Shaw: I have a new understanding of how bored you can be.

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I just finished a book and am so angry that I’m turning uneasily on the bed!! The protagonist was in a piteous state from beginning to the end. In the end, the antagonist got away scot-free!

Shaw: Ah, I’ve read that book

Shaw: In the second book, the protagonist counterattacks

Shaw: ...does this count as spoiling the plot?

-

[ LIFE - Topic 4: Games ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: Hahahaha! I defeated the boss in that wrestling game you mentioned. You won’t dare to look down on me now, right?

Shaw: ...

Shaw: You’ve already showed off on SNS, and now you’re specially sending me the news to show off again

Shaw: Looks like you really feel a sense of accomplishment.

Shaw: Fine, I’ll commend you.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I haven’t been able to find any fun games recently... Feels like they keep following the same pattern. It makes me want to start playing old games that I’ve already completed...

Shaw: Since you can’t find any fun electronic games

Shaw: Why not come out and have fun with me? You can even train your body.

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: When I played games today, I bumped into an annoying teammate. His standard was obviously average, but he kept blaming others for mistakes!

Shaw: Do you remember his ID?

Shaw: Send it over

Shaw: I’ll go meet him.

🦈

[ SCHOOL - Topic 1: Progress ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: This time, I’ve given myself sufficient time to prepare! My study plan is also set. From this weekend onwards, I’ll be in the library with you.

Shaw: You really want to come with me?

Shaw: Would you be sleeping in the library like the last time?

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: It’s not that I don’t want to study, but many things keep disrupting my studies. Actually, I really want to study...

Shaw: Just admit it

Shaw: You’re just not in the mood to study

Shaw: Want me to come over to help you change your mood into a studying one?

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: Even after reading the analysis, I can’t understand what it’s saying at all. I can’t study any more. I really want to become a salted fish swimming around in the ocean...

Shaw: A friendly hint

Shaw: Salted fish are dried fish, so they can’t swim

Shaw: If you want things to turn for the better, you could ask me for help.

[Note] Shaw’s uses an idiom in the final line, “咸鱼翻身” ( “xian you fan shen”), which directly translates to “salted fish turning over”. It’s a metaphor for a person who experiences a reversal of fortunes!

-

[ SCHOOL - Topic 2: Homework ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I breezed past the questions today! And I kept an hour free to practice the skateboard. Didn’t you say you wanted to teach me a new move?

Shaw: One hour isn’t enough to teach a new move

Shaw: It’s easy to fall if you practice it too quickly

Shaw: First, go to the location and let me see the results of your previous practice

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I keep thinking that I’ve turned into an emotionless robot that goes through questions. I can’t find even a bit of passion in studying. Anyway, does studying even require passion...

Shaw: You’re asking me such questions? Seriously?

Shaw: My response is

Shaw: You don’t need it in studying, but you need it if you’re seeking knowledge.

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I can’t finish it... I already have many things to do in the morning, and still have to rush my homework at night. It’s not like I possess three heads and six arms!

Shaw: Even though you don’t possess three head and six arms

Shaw: If you add the both of us together, there’ll be two heads and four arms

Shaw: I won’t do your homework, but call me if you need anything else.

[Note] “Three has and six arms” is a direct translation from an idiom, 三头六臂 (“san you liu bi”). It refers to someone who possess superhuman abilities

-

[ SCHOOL - Topic 3: Pre-exam Revision ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I just did a self-test and feel like the examination questions aren’t that difficult. Didn’t expect that the method you taught me on how to have a productive revision would be so effective!

Shaw: Of course my method is useful

Shaw: How else could I make it into Loveland University?

Shaw: After your exam tomorrow, remember to call me.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: Does re-doing questions again count as revision... But no one can guarantee that these questions wouldn’t appear in the exam...

Shaw: It’s always better to do it than not to

Shaw: As the old saying goes, “Review the old and know the new”

Shaw: Start with the “review”.

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I think the teacher has something against me. He said he wouldn’t test the parts that I already revised! How could he do this!

Shaw: It means you don’t know how to identify the essentials. Learn this from me.

Shaw: I can always guess the examinable areas

Shaw: The Old Man even asked if I secretly peeked at his teaching materials.

-

[ SCHOOL - Topic 4: Post-exam celebration ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I’ve reached Live House. Where are you? Aren’t we celebrating how I’m finally free from the abyss of exams?

Shaw: Five minutes.

Shaw: I brought a cake

Shaw: Since it’s a celebration, it should be more official.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: The exam is over. I’m free. As for the results, I’m not going to think about it. I actually feel a little empty...

Shaw: ...who was the one who wanted my help in comparing answers before the exam?

Shaw: You dared to waste my time, so wait for my punishment. 

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I compared answers with someone. I felt a chill. The important thing is that I wrote the correct answer for that final question. But my fingers itched and I changed it to the wrong answer ahhh!

Shaw: Since you’re wrong, why continue thinking about it?

Shaw: Let’s go

Shaw: I’ll take you to a place where you can let off steam.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc shaw

[firebrands]

finally, then once more; steve/tony

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Explicit, 6.1k of a college au and the four times tony asks steve to fuck him, and the one time steve finally does | Stony Bingo Prompt: loss of virginity | on ao3

Maybe Tony’s lack of sleep is to blame for how he doesn’t check to see who’s taken the seat on the bar beside him. He’s too busy typing, cigarette hanging loose from his lips, trying to make the most of his waking hours before his vision gets blurry. Based on experience, that happens when he hits the 28-hour mark.

Whoever’s sitting beside him has their knee pressing against Tony’s. Tony can feel the warmth through his tattered jeans, worn down at the knee.

The man beside him clears his throat, and Tony looks up.

It’s a good thing the cigarette is almost done, because it falls out of Tony’s lips. He stares, slack-jawed, at the absolute specimen in front of him.

“Uh,” Tony says, very eloquently.

The man smirks, and Tony has to suppress a shiver.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, all buff and blonde and blue-eyed and perfect.

Tony tilts his head, mirroring the man’s smirk. “If you wanna get arrested, be my guest.”

The man groans. “What the hell are you doing at a bar, then?”

“Smoking and working,” Tony says, laughing a little. “The cafe I was at closed.”

“And what, you don’t have a place to stay?”

The question hits too close to the mark.

“No smoking in the building,” Tony says.

The man nods. “And how old are you, exactly?”

“Old enough,” Tony says, shifting so he’s fully facing the man.

The man snorts. “You one of them geniuses who got accelerated through school and went to MIT early, then?”

“Maybe,” Tony sniffs, takes in the gray henley, sleeves smeared with a bit of paint. “And you must be, what, a liberal arts major at BU?”

The man arches his eyebrow. “Steve Rogers,” he says, extending a hand. Tony grins and takes it.

“So what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” Tony asks, resting his elbow on the bar and lighting a cigarette.

Steve shrugs and takes a sip from his beer. “Well I was gonna buy someone a drink, but it seems like a glass of milk is more appropriate.”

“Are you calling me young?” Tony gasps, affronted.

Steve raises his eyebrows, biting back a smile. “Not calling you old enough, either.”

“I’m eighteen!” Tony says, furiously tapping his cigarette on the ashtray.

Steve laughs. “And easy to rile up, too,” he says.

Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m not taking this,” he says, putting out his cigarette with a huff. “I’m going to find somewhere else to work where beautiful blondes won’t be distracting me.”

“Oh, believe me. I think I can take your full attention,” Steve says, leaning back on the chair.

Tony stops packing his bag and stares. It’s a bit unfair, how gorgeous he looks even in the awful lighting of the dive bar.

“That’s not fair,” Tony says, brain to mouth filter completely shot as he teeters dangerously close to exhaustion.

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair,” Steve says, straightening up a little. “Is how you manage to look absolutely gorgeous even if I can tell you haven’t had any sleep.”

Tony groans and rolls his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are,” Steve says, raking his eyes up and down Tony’s body.

Tony bites his lip, excitement thrumming in his gut.

“And you have a bit of ash—” Steve murmurs, leaning close and thumbing at Tony’s cheek. “There you go. Perfect.”

He’s close enough that Tony can feel Steve’s breath on his cheek, and Tony turns his head a little, jaw still cupped in Steve’s hand, to brush his lips against Steve’s wrist.

He’s close enough that Tony can hear Steve suck in a breath.

Steve looks at Tony, and Tony meets his gaze, challenging. Steve smirks, biting his lip before leaning close and kissing Tony. It’s mind-numbingly sweet—Steve’s lips are soft, and he uses his hand on Tony’s jaw to angle the kiss so they slot perfectly together. Tony parts his lips almost immediately and swallows down a moan when he feels Steve’s tongue in his mouth.

They pull away slowly, and Tony’s happy to see he’s not the only one who’s breathless.

“I’d ask if you wanted to get out of here,” Steve says, smiling at Tony. “But I figure you have a deadline coming up, right?”

“Who cares,” Tony says emphatically. He wants to keep kissing, wants to feel Steve’s skin, wants to maybe, finally—

“I care,” Steve says, eyebrow cocked. “Give me your number, and call me when you’ve turned that in.”

“You are unbelievable!” Tony hisses, but types his number into Steve’s phone anyway.

Steve laughs, and sends Tony a text. “Come on, let me walk you home or something,” he says, taking Tony’s bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“First of all,” Tony splutters, following Steve out of the bar, “I can carry my own bag. Second of all, can we focus on ‘or something’?” Even though Tony suggests it, he’s already wincing at the idea of Steve in his room, especially given the state he’d left it in, all those hours ago.

Steve takes Tony’s hand in his. “Where to?”

Tony makes more disgruntled noises as a blush heats his cheeks. “You’re the worst,” he says, as he leads them to his apartment, which is thankfully, barely a block away.

“Do you wanna come in?” Tony asks hopefully, standing outside his door.

Steve grins and leans down to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “Next time, maybe.”

Tony pulls Steve in to kiss him properly, filthily, hoping that it gets the message across.

Steve squeezes Tony’s hand. “Come on, you’re a genius, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ve heard about delayed gratification,” he teases, right before raising Tony’s hand to his lips.

“Oh,” Tony says, all rebuttals whiting out of his brain at the tenderness of Steve’s lips on his knuckles.

Steve smirks up at him. “Yeah, oh. Go finish that paper, then we can talk.”

Tony makes a disbelieving noise, not knowing what words to say first, and Steve presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Good night, Tony.”

He disentangles their fingers and gently pushes Tony towards his door. Tony keeps shaking his head, unable to wrap his mind around everything that’s happened.

“Good night, Steve,” he mumbles, finally turning around to open the door. He throws a glance over his shoulder and sees Steve walking backwards onto the sidewalk. He meets Tony’s gaze and waves.

  ***

 Three days later Tony meets Steve for dinner in a small Chinese restaurant.

“Hi,” Tony says tentatively. He’s dated, of course, back in high school, all those girls and boys that Howard would turn his nose up to. And in college, too, starting out with drunken kisses that turned to coffee dates, soured only when faced with Tony’s schedule and sleeping habits.

This feels—it feels new. Possible. Tony’s wrapping up his last semester and he only has his thesis to finish, and after that… Well, he’ll worry about after when he has to.

“Hey,” Steve says, grinning at Tony like he hung the sun. “Eaten here before?”

“Can’t say I have,” Tony says, eyeing the menu. “You order.”

Dinner is pleasant, Steve talks about his thesis project, and listens intently when Tony talks about his. He asks a lot of questions, and Tony can’t help but smile when Steve’s face looks so pensive, as if he’s trying to puzzle it out on his own.

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Tony says, as a waitress clears the table.

“I want to, if you want to,” Steve says earnestly. “It’s just so different, I can barely wrap my head around it.”

“Yeah,” Tony laughs. “Science, huh.”

Steve snorts, pays for dinner, and offers to walk Tony home.

“You wanna—” Tony starts, chewing on his lip.

“Yeah, for a bit,” Steve says. “Can’t stay up too late or I’ll be useless in class tomorrow.”

Tony laughs, leading Steve inside. “Can’t relate.”

“Yeah, what’s a proper sleeping schedule, right?” Steve teases.

They sit down on Tony’s couch and Tony clears his throat.

Steve huffs out a laugh, leans close to rest his hand on the back of Tony’s neck. “Been wanting to kiss you all night,” he murmurs.

“Good,” Tony says, before leaning up to press his lips against Steve’s.

The night devolves from there, Tony’s hand sliding up Steve’s shirt, Steve’s fingers carding through his hair. Tony’s about to reach down and undo Steve’s pants, Steve’s lips on his neck, sucking and biting, and through the haze of Tony’s groans, Steve pulls away with a start.

On the table, his phone is buzzing.

“Ah, fuck,” Steve says, picking up his phone.

“What is it?” Tony asks, a little annoyed at the disruption.

“I set an alarm for midnight,” Steve says sheepishly

“Why the fuck—”

 “Because we both have class tomorrow and—”

 “Just stay,” Tony says, pressing up closer to Steve. He kisses his neck and murmurs, “Stay and fuck me.”

Steve chokes, sputters, then clears his throat. “Next time,” he says, laughing a little, before kissing Tony on the lips and bidding him good night.

 ***

 There are a few more next times that culminate in heavy petting and Tony having to jack off on his bed when Steve leaves, but it all comes to a head one Saturday night when Steve invites him to a party at one of his friends’ houses.

“His name is Bucky,” Tony says, for the second time that night.

“Yes,” Steve answers with a sigh. “Yes, his name is Bucky, Tony. Jesus.”

Tony laughs. “What the fuck! That’s so weird. Like he never tried to change his nickname when he moved to college?”

“I may have had a hand in none of them ever sticking,” he says, laughing a little as he opens the door for Tony. Steve holds his hand as he guides them through the throng of people already inside, drinking and dancing and laughing. He finds his friends in the kitchen.

Tony stands to the side as Steve goes around hugging everyone in greeting, then Steve turns to him, beckons him closer and says, “This is Tony.”

Tony’s greeted by a chorus of “Hi, Tony!” and Steve introduces them all in turn; Natasha is leaning on the counter, smoking a cigarette. Sam is beside her, pouring shots. Bucky has his hand in a jar full of salsa, and declines to shake Tony’s hand.

They offer Tony a shot, and then a bottle of beer to chase it down.

 Tony’s drunk. He looks at the bottle of vodka in his hands, and sees how he has a few gulps left, so that explains why. Tony looks around the living room, still full of people, and oh, there’s a couple making out against the wall, that’s gross—

By the kitchen, Steve does a keg stand (he’s helped up by Bucky and Sam) and Tony is both horrified by the display, and turned on by the muscular lines of Steve’s stomach that had made an appearance when his shirt followed the force of gravity. The crowd cheers, and people pat Steve on the back as he makes his way toward Tony, a silly grin on his face. He collapses beside Tony on the couch, laughing and a little pink.

“Art major by day, frat boy by night,” Tony slurs, taking a swig before passing the bottle of Steve. Everything’s moving slowly.

“Even drunk, you’re still a smartass.” Steve laughs and wraps an arm around Tony’s waist. “C’mere,” he says, and pulls Tony into a searing kiss.

Tony follows easily, parts his lips open and paws at Steve’s chest. He’s wanted to kiss Steve all night, maybe has, once or twice, but not like this—wanton and reckless.

Tony shuffles to sit on Steve’s lap, and Steve lifts him almost effortlessly when he realizes what Tony wants to do. From this position it’s much nicer to kiss Steve, it lets him press up nice and close so they’re chest to chest. He runs his hands through Steve’s hair, then his shoulders, then his arms. Tony wants. He wants more. He wants it all.

“Fuck me,” Tony whispers, before making his point even clearer by nipping at Steve’s ear.

A laugh rumbles out of Steve as he takes Tony’s face in his hands. “Baby, you’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk,” Tony grumbles, grinding down hard on Steve’s lap.

Steve kisses him, but with less heat. “Still drunk,” he says.

Tony reaches over to take another swig of vodka, annoyed, and wakes up in his apartment, fully clothed.

“God damn it!” he yells, which only makes the pounding in his head worse.

 ***

  They’ve been dating for almost three months, now. “I can’t believe you picked me up in a bar,” Tony says, leaning his hip on the kitchen counter, watching as Steve makes them dinner.

“Well, imagine my shock when, after hyping myself up for thirty minutes, I found out that I couldn’t even buy you a drink.”

Tony laughs, taking a sip of Steve’s wine. “You were pretty slick,” he says fondly.

“Glad you think so,” Steve says, pulling out a spoon from the drawer and dips it into the sauce. He holds it out to Tony.

Tony opens his mouth and brightens immediately. “That’s good.”

“Good,” Steve says, turning off the burner. They’re silent as the pasta cooks in a different pot.

Tony takes a deep breath. He’s been thinking about how Steve has never—how they’ve never done anything below the belt, but have fallen asleep beside each other, or how Steve never really listens when Tony asks him to. He’s fretted about it more than once. And it’s not like they don’t have enough time alone, or that Steve doesn’t want Tony to see his place. He just doesn’t seem to want… that. Tony’s been trying to build up the courage to bring it up, but he’s worried that it might just drive Steve away, or make him think that that’s all Tony wants, which isn’t true, because Tony only has visual and literary references for what that could be like, so.

Steve hums to himself as he mixes the pasta in with the sauce and Tony hands him the plates.

“Steve,” Tony says, eyes on the pasta.

“Hm?” Steve replies, bringing the plates to the table. “Oh, bring the wine, please.”

Tony sits down across Steve and takes another deep breath.

“Tony,” Steve says, looking concerned. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Tony says immediately. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know?”

Steve nods and waits.

Tony shoves a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “This is delicious,” he says.

Steve nods, beginning to eat as well, but he looks at Tony occasionally, worry clear in his face.

“I can do the dishes!” Tony volunteers when they’re both done, because he’s a coward and can’t imagine how to even begin the conversation.

“It’s fine,” Steve says, taking the plates from Tony and dumping them into the sink. “Let’s talk.”

Tony slips out onto Steve’s balcony and lights a cigarette.

Steve leans against the wall.

When Tony turns to look at him, Steve is smiling at Tony in what Tony’s sure Steve thinks looks encouraging. But Tony can see the anxiety in Steve’s eyes.

“SO!” Tony says, clapping his hands together. “Dinner was great.”

“Thank you,” Steve says graciously.

“What do you want to talk about?” Tony asks.

“What do you want to talk about?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs. “Well.”

Steve motions for Tony to continue.

“Thoughts on sex!” Tony says.

Steve coughs out a small cloud of smoke, and it takes him a moment to catch his breath. “What?”

“With me!” Tony adds, uselessly. It’s like something inside him has unhinged his jaw and now he can’t stop. “What are you thoughts on having sex with me!”

“I—” Steve sputters. “What?”

“Because we’ve never, and that’s weird, right? We should. Maybe. If you want! I’m down.”

Steve cradles his head in his hands. “What is happening?”

“Do you not want to? Because that’s cool too!” Tony says, pacing around. He takes a long drag off his cigarette.

“Of course I want to!” Steve says, exasperated.

Tony stops, turns to Steve, and stares.

“Then why—”

 “Because you’ve never done it before, Tony, and I don’t want to rush into things, and I don’t know if you’re the kind of person who cares about who they do it with for the first time, but I’m that kind of person, and I want you to be sure—to be sure, about me, I mean.”

Tony stares some more.

Steve raises a shaky hand and takes a drag. “I didn’t want you to feel that we had to have sex for this to work out.”

An emotion Tony can’t name rises up from his belly, fills his throat, and comes tumbling out of his mouth. “I fucking love you, you dumb log of a man,” Tony hisses.

Steve drops his cigarette at the same moment that Tony slaps his hand over his mouth.

A small laugh is beginning to bubble out of Steve, and he crosses the space between them in two large steps. He cups Tony’s jaw in his hand and uses the other to pry Tony’s hand off his mouth.

Steve is grinning ear to ear, and he laughs a little before he says, “I love you too, you gremlin masquerading as a human.” He kisses Tony, gentle and sweet and loving, and Tony melts into him, pulls him as close as he can, because wow, wow.

Steve leads them back into Tony’s apartment, bumping into his bookshelf as they wind their way to Tony’s room. “Not tonight,” Steve says, and Tony nods, dazed and more than happy to fall asleep in Steve’s arms.

  ***

 One of the nice things about Tony’s apartment is the way it catches the sun. When he wakes up, it’s to the sight of Steve leaning against his headboard, bathed in sunlight as he reads a magazine.

Tony sighs, content.

“Good morning,” Steve says, setting the magazine aside. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Tony admits, shuffling close and tilting his head up.

Steve huffs out a laugh and grants Tony’s unspoken request for a good morning kiss.

“Are we going to fuck now?” Tony asks, shifting to rest on his elbow.

“Are we?” Steve teases.

Tony pouces on top of Steve, pinning his hips down with his own. “Yes, please.”

Steve laughs, resting his hands on Tony’s waist. “Who am I to deny you?”

Tony kisses him, then makes his way down Steve’s neck. He’s seen videos, he knows what to do, or at least, sort of. “I want to…” Tony starts. “Could you just. Lie down?” Tony asks.

Steve nods.

“Tell me what feels good,” Tony says, and Steve nods again, understands that for now, Tony needs to be in control.

Steve is content to lie back and watch Tony, a faint blush dusting his cheeks and neck. He lets out a soft moan when Tony licks his collarbone, and Tony watches as Steve fists the sheets when he takes a tentative lick of Steve’s nipple.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” Steve grinds out.

“Okay,” Tony breathes out, and Steve shifts again. Tony bites his lip and blows at the stiff peak of Steve’s nipple.

“Jesus christ,” Steve curses.

Tony laughs a little to himself, then continues down Steve’s torso, licking at the muscles of Steve’s abs, until finally, he is stopped by Steve’s boxers.

Steve chews on his bottom lip.

Tony looks up at Steve. “Please?”

Steve continues to bite his lip as he raises his hips, hooks his fingers under the band, and slips off his shorts.

Tony stares. He’s never actually seen Steve’s cock until this moment, only felt it once or twice, and always through layers of Steve’s jeans. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment.

“I—hng,” Tony says, staring. He licks his lips. “You’re—” Tony sucks on his lower lip. “Wow.”

“We don’t have to—” Steve starts, looking worried.

“Oh, no, we do,” Tony says, “we absolutely must.”

Steve blushes. “Okay.”

“Please do not tell me that you’ve been putting off fucking me because you apparently have the biggest fucking dick in the world,” Tony says, crawling up to gaze down at Steve.

“No,” Steve lies.

Tony laughs and kisses him, swinging his leg over Steve’s hips and pressing his ass against Steve’s cock as he does.

“Can I fuck you,” Steve gasps out. He pushes Tony back so that Tony feels the entire length of Steve pressed against his ass, feels the way that his cheeks are pushed apart by the sheer girth of him.

“I don’t know,” Tony says, a panic seeping into his voice. “Can you??”

“Yeah,” Steve grins, sitting up. “But let me open you up real good first.”

“Holy. Fucking. God,” Tony says emphatically. “You have never sounded more hot than in that moment.”

Steve laughs, pulling Tony close to kiss him. “Looks like I have the rest of the morning to keep impressing you,” he murmurs.

Tony groans.

“I—I want,” Tony says. He reaches out and wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock tentatively. It’s so thick his fingers don’t meet as he encircles his girth. “Can I—?” he asks haltingly, moving back down to look at Steve’s cock, to really appreciate it.

Steve leans back. “I don’t know, can you?” He repeats, a lazy smirk on his lips.

Tony swallows. “Tell me if it’s good,” he says, lowering himself down. He takes a deep breath, and licks the head of Steve’s cock.

Steve groans. “That’s good,” he says, fingers winding around the sheets.

Tony parts his lips and takes it into his mouth. It’s intoxicating, to be this close to Steve, his cock heavy on Tony’s tongue, Steve’s musk permeating everything. Tony has to work to relax his jaw to take more of it in.

Above him, Steve is breathing unsteadily.

Tony breathes in through his nose and tries to go deeper, hyper aware of his teeth.

“That’s good, that’s so good,” Steve says, voice shaking a little. “If you want, with your tongue—“

Tony presses his tongue flat against the underside of Steve’s cock, making Steve groan. “Fuck, yes, Tony, that’s so good,” he babbles, clenching and unclenching his fist on the blanket.

Tony closes his eyes, tries to move his tongue around the silken heat. “Yes, yes, yes—oh,” Steve chants.

Tony lowers his mouth further, slowly, working to accommodate Steve’s cock, then it hits the back of his throat and Tony pulls up immediately.

“It’s too big,” Tony says. He’s surprised by how rough his voice sounds.

“You don’t need to put it all in your mouth,” Steve says, somehow still coherent, but his voice is a bit thready. He focuses his gaze on Tony. “You can use your hand, to help.”

Tony nods like a man on a mission, and takes Steve’s cock back into his mouth. He can feel Steve straining to stay still, and it sends a thrill down his spine.

He begins to pull up just as Steve’s cock hits the back of his throat again, but remembers what Steve said, and uses his hand to follow the motion.

“Oh fuck,” Steve moans. His eyes are trained on Tony’s lips. Tony notices and winks, making Steve groan and look away.

“You’re doing so well,” he breathes out. He threads his fingers through Tony’s hair, and Tony moans at the touch—Steve tightens his grip, and Tony moans some more.

Tony settles into a rhythm as he bobs up and down Steve’s cock; he squeezes his eyes shut as he focuses on Steve’s pleasure. Then he notices that Steve is canting his hips up, following Tony’s movements. Tony groans, wrapping his fingers tighter around Steve’s cock.

Steve makes a broken noise above him and pulls Tony away. “Stop,” he says, just as Tony makes a small noise of disapproval.

“But—“ Tony starts. Steve leans over to kiss him, which, hot, given where Tony’s mouth just was.

“My turn,” Steve says, flipping Tony easily on to his back.

“Hey!” Tony says, but quiets when Steve slides his hands down Tony’s sides and kisses him again. Tony’s so lost in how good it feels to kiss Steve that he barely notices that Steve has lifted his hips up and slid his shorts off him.

“You were so good,” Steve says, before kissing him again, and Tony’s overwhelmed by everything happening seemingly all at once: he’s overwhelmed by how good it feels to be naked around Steve, how it feels to have Steve’s bare skin pressed against his, how it feels to have Steve’s cock thick against his thigh, how it feels to have Steve’s mouth on him.

Steve’s hand is warm on his chest, and Tony nearly jolts out of the bed when Steve tweaks his nipple. “Fuck,” Tony breathes out, because holy fuck, Steve’s kissed his neck before, but this feels too much. He surprises himself with the whimper that comes out of his mouth when Steve licks down his chest and sucks on his nipple.

“Like that?” Steve asks, and Tony can’t find the words, can’t find any words at all to express how he fucking loves it.

Steve grins up at him, kisses and nips down Tony’s chest.

“I’m going to suck your cock now,” Steve says, looking up at Tony.

“Okay,” Tony says, because what else could anyone say to that?

Steve smiles, presses a kiss to Tony’s hip, and without any warning, slides Tony’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh my fucking—oh, ah, fucking fuck,” Tony groans, hands flying to find purchase. He mirrors Steve’s actions and threads his fingers through Steve’s hair. It’s wildly erotic, feeling Steve’s head bob up and down his cock, and all Tony can do is watch, transfixed, as Steve sucks him down to the base, and pulls up to suckle at the tip.

Tony doesn’t even know what he’s saying, or if he’s saying anything at all, moaning and groaning at the sheer pleasure of it all.

Steve pulls away with a lewd sounding pop and he looks up at Tony.

Tony stares down at him, dumbstruck.

“All right?” Steve asks.

“Fuck,” Tony breathes out.

Steve laughs, the bastard, and licks a bead of precum off of Tony’s cock. Tony groans.

“Lube?” Steve asks.

Tony swallows and tries to get control of himself. His legs feel like jelly and he wants Steve’s mouth on him again, so he says so.

“Soon, baby,” Steve coos. “Lube first.”

Tony digs around his drawer and feels the bed dip. He turns over his shoulder to check and Steve holds up a pack of condoms in response.

Tony nods, and goes back to searching, stopping only when Steve moves up to kiss his shoulder, his back. “You having fun?”

“Yes,” Tony says shakily. He holds up the tube in triumph, then hands it to Steve.

“More fun in a bit,” Steve says, taking it from him.

Tony huffs out a laugh, and Steve pulls him in for a kiss. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, looking at Tony right in the eye.

“I won’t want you to stop,” Tony says, suddenly embarrassed by how earnest Steve’s tone was. Besides, he’d been looking forward to this for literally months.

“Promise that you’ll tell me,” Steve says, taking Tony’s chin in his hand, making Tony meet his gaze.

“Okay, I will,” Tony says, biting his lip.

“Good boy,” Steve smiles, and presses a quick kiss to Tony’s lips before settling back on the bed. “Lie down.”

“Oh my god,” Tony murmurs, but does so anyway. “Should I…?” Tony trails off, not really knowing what to say. The sudden break to search for lube has given his brain enough time to boot up and thus, freak out a little.

“Just relax and let me take care of you,” Steve says, smiling up at Tony.

“You sure?” Tony asks.

Steve’s smile widens. “Yes, Tony. Let me.” He presses a kiss to Tony’s knee, then moves up so he’s hovering just above Tony. He crooks a finger at Tony, beckoning him closer.

Tony leans up, and Steve kisses him, soft and gentle at first, then more passionately when Tony reaches up and touches him.

“It’s easier if you’re on your knees,” Steve says. “That okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, mirroring Steve’s smile.

Steve leans back and Tony gets on all fours. Steve takes a pillow and places it under Tony’s hips.

“You can rest on your elbows, if it gets too much,” Steve says gently.

“It won’t,” Tony says, sounding much more self-assured than he feels.

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Okay, I’m going to slide a finger in, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony says, looking over his shoulder. He watches with baited breath as Steve slicks up a finger.

“Try and relax for me, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony says, breathing out slowly.

Steve presses a kiss on the apple of Tony’s ass and presses at Tony’s hole.

Tony holds back a gasp as Steve inches it in slowly. It doesn’t feel particularly bad, but it doesn’t feel particularly good, either.

“You’re doing great,” Steve says, moving in and out, and Tony breathes, all anxious anticipation. “I’m going to open you up some more with a second finger, okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Tony says. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on the feeling of Steve’s hands. He has his other resting on Tony’s hip, holding him in place. The second finger proves to have the same effect, and Tony tries not to feel weird about it, and he’s about to ask Steve, should this be feeling good or…?

Except Steve chooses that moment to crook his fingers, hitting that one spot in Tony that makes him see stars. Tony lets out a strangled yelp, and his elbows buckle beneath him.

“There it is,” Steve says, sounding very smug. Tony’s too blissed out to snark back, because Steve keeps rubbing his finger over the spot. All Tony can do is groan.

“Third finger,” Steve says gently, and this—this makes Tony moan, loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the stretch felt.

“Oh god, Steve,” Tony breathes out, rocking his hips back.”That’s—” Tony lets out a strangled groan when Steve spreads his fingers inside him, stretching him even further.

“Good?” Steve asks, pressing a soft kiss on Tony’s lower back.

“Yes,” Tony moans out. “Yes!” he cries, when he feels all three of Steve’s fingers press against that one special spot. Steve keeps fucking his fingers into Tony until Tony’s dissolved into a writhing, moaning mess beneath him.

“Fuck me,” Tony breathes out, “please, please, please fuck me already.”

“You sure?” Steve asks.

“Yes,” Tony hisses.

Steve huffs out a laugh, and his fingers make a lewd sound as he slips them out of Tony. It makes Tony shiver.

Tony feels boneless already, but musters enough strength to look back at Steve, who is rolling a condom on.

“Surprised it fits,” Tony mumbles.

Steve looks up at him, startled, and then blushes furiously.

Tony grins and shakes his hips. “I’m ready,” he says.

Steve chuckles a little, then rests his hand back on Tony’s thigh. “Tell me, okay?”

“I will,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “Come on.”

“You are so impatient,” Steve says, sounding both annoyed and impressed.

Tony’s about to make another quip but sucks in a breath when he feels the thick head of Steve’s cock press against his hole.

“Oh,” Tony says. He breathes out, trying to relax. Then he feels the ridge of Steve’s cock finally broach the entrance of his hole and Tony nearly screams.

“Holy, fucking—oh my god, oh god, Steve—” Tony groans, turning to press his face into the matress to try and muffle the sounds he’s making.

“I got you,” Steve says, voice tight. “You’re doing so well for me, Tony, you’re doing so good, god, you feel so good already,” Steve says, gripping Tony’s hip.

Tony lets out a long, shaky breath as he feels Steve continue to slide slowly inside him. He bites his lip, and whimpers. “Steve, oh my god, you’re going to break me in half,” he says, breaths coming out short. It’s deliciously excruciating, it feels so good that it almost hurts with how good it feels.

“Halfway there, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, now rubbing circles on Tony’s hip.

“H-halfway?” Tony chokes out. He can’t tell how much more he can take. Then he feels Steve’s cock press against that same place as earlier and it pushes a moan out of Tony, and now he’s fully lost control of himself, he’s drooling on the sheets, it feels so good, it feels unreal, Tony is going to die on Steve’s cock and that’s okay—

“You’re not going to die,” Steve says, halting Tony’s thoughts. “But keep talking.”

Tony huffs in response, because honestly words are impossible right now, and Steve still hasn’t bottomed out, Steve is still fully stuffing his ass with his big fucking cock and—

“You have the filthiest mouth,” Steve groans. “Are you sure you’ve never been fucked before?”

“Oh I am sure,” Tony manages, before he groans again. His breaths are shaky, short, and his eyes keep falling shut on their own volition; all his focus is spent on the feeling of Steve spreading him open.

Steve groans when his hips finally hit Tony’s ass.

Tony’s too dazed to say anything; he’s breathing through his mouth, and nothing else matters.

Steve rocks against him gently, and Tony nearly cries out. He’s so full, stretched so wide open, it feels amazing.

“Hn—fuck,” Tony breathes out, once he’s finally centered himself.

“I’m going to start fucking you now,” Steve grinds out. “You’re so fucking tight, Tony.”

Tony moans. “I’m going to die because of your cock.”

“Not yet you won’t,” Steve says, and Tony bites back a whine when Steve begins to pull out. “So fucking good,” Tony groans, “your cock feels so fucking good.”

Tony loses himself to the sound of Steve’s skin slapping against his—erotic and physical and wild; Tony feels unhinged, and when Steve adjusts his angle and begins to pound into his prostate, Tony feels his soul ripped out of his body. He’s sure that he’s crying, whimpering, clutching at the sheets, and it doesn’t help that every time Steve fucks him, his own cock gets some relief, pressed against the pillow Steve had put under Tony’s hips in what feels like years ago.

“Oh, god, yes, yes, there,” Tony chants, before biting down on the bed to muffle his screams. It feels like Steve’s hands are everywhere, sliding up and down his sides, tweaking his nipples, and then Tony screams when Steve pushes his cheeks apart, holds his ass open with his thumbs.

“Fucking gorgeous, you’re taking my cock so fucking well,” Steve says, “god you’re so fucking tight, Tony, it’s like your ass was made for my cock,” and holy christ who taught Steve to talk like that.

Tony groans, shifting back a little so he can fuck himself onto Steve’s cock. It seems to punch a groan out of Steve, and Tony feels a little better about being a drooling, quivering mess for however long Steve’s been destroying his ass.

Steve lifts up Tony’s hips a little, his grip tight, and Tony only has a moment to realize the shift in position before Steve’s hand is on his cock and that is it, it’s over, Tony has officially died and gone to heaven, because this is for sure what heaven is: Steve’s cock buried to the hilt in his ass, Steve’s hand squeezing and pumping his cock, and Tony’s moans reverberating in his ears as he finally, finally comes.

It only takes what Tony assumes to be a moment—because what is time, after such a religious experience—before Steve comes with broken sound. It’s wild that Tony can feel Steve’s cock twitching inside him, and Steve stays for a moment until it gets truly, finally, too much.

Steve collapses on the bed beside Tony, and Tony rolls onto his back.

“You okay?” Steve asks, turning to look at Tony. He brushes Tony’s hair away from his forehead and leans close to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek.

“Holy god damn shit,” Tony breathes out, finally getting his bearings.

“Enjoyed it, then?” Steve asks, grinning.

Tony turns to Steve and smiles, exhausted. “I need to take a nap. And then I need you to fuck me again.”

Steve laughs and pulls Tony into a kiss. “Yes, sir.”

#stevetony #stony #steve x tony #steve rogers #tony stark #things i write #i hate this god damn website and its flimsy html posting shit

[cupstealer]

Re: your last ask.

I am also no longer into the fandom side of hockey anymore and hardly ever read fan fic anymore. (A senior thesis will do that to a person 😔) Buut I want you to know that I think about contact high on a regular basis. Once a week maybe type of regular, when I’m wishing I was reading something fun and not a science journal. Is that weird?! I mean I know that sounds a little crazy- but it might be the greatest fic I’ve ever read. While I was reading it I got the sense that it would be one of my favorites, but I had no idea how much it would still ruminate with me a year and a half later. I don’t think I can recall a single other rpf work like I can that one. You are such an amazing writer! And I hope you continue to write- whatever it may be that your writing about! 💕

(Sorry to keep putting these on y’all’s dash, but it’s the only way I can THANK these anons and they definitely need thanking.)

Your timing OP ;.; I really got this ask when I needed it most. 💕 Thank you thank you thank you! Sorry for the delayed response—it’s so hard to figure out how to thank somebody and explain how much words like this mean while not sounding like a flu patient or something.

To answer your question, it’s not weird! There are absolutely fics that live rent-free in my head to the degree that I’m basically sponsoring them on a permanent residency program [cut to footage of bring it if you really want it by staraflur]. And god, what an honor that Contact High is like that for you 🙏 Contact High is my favorite thing that I’ve written. A lot (pfff, all) of the content was so self-indulgent for me, just utter wish-fulfillment, which I usually try to dial back, but I wanted to see what might happen if I really leaned in instead. (The thing with toothpaste/walking in on someone actually happened to me when I was staying over at a friend’s house in high school... Sorry again to her brother, I promise I barely saw anything.) There isn’t a single element of that fic that I wasn’t excited about while I was writing it. And it’s that much more touching when the work that feels the most ‘me’ is someone’s favorite.

Anon, I hope you get some free time to read fun stuff soon! You deserve it. And good luck on your thesis! Defend that sumbitch like you’re Connor Murphy (no idea if it’s the kind of thesis you defend, but you get my meaning). Thank you again 💕

I am still writing, by the way! Just as slow as ever though, and for a very mixed bag of subjects! No hockey lately, though I have a few unpublished 1988 WIPs that I haven’t touched in a long stretch yet haven’t let go of either. Every fall, I pump myself up to roll up my sleeves and edit/finish this genre-confused frankenstein of a haunted house-type fic, and I haven’t given up hope yet! (Plus if I finish it, I can finally read jezziejay’s witch Jonny fic—which got posted while I was writing mine, and I made myself bookmark it for later so I wouldn’t be influenced or in my head about any overlap even though they’re almost certainly totally different in every way. I’m dying to read hers ;.;)

Hmm I hesitate to say this, but... If anyone is really interested regardless of fandom, there’s also an unorthodox fic I wrote as a Christmas present for my sister back in 2017 that she keeps telling me to post. (I know, and it gets weirder from there.) I think I want to but I’ve hesitated for several reasons. First: I need to re-do the ending now that I’m not scrambling to finish it on Christmas Eve. Second: It is a pairing that does not exist and kind of bananas. More info under the cut if you’re interested.

Basically, years ago, one of my sisters and I had a looong conversation about who was worthy of being shipped with Stacker Pentecost from Pacific Rim, and when none of the characters from the movie satisfied us, we reached out into the vast universe of basically anyone from any media to find him love, guess-and-check style. After literal hours, I brought up one of my favorite under-appreciated characters, Linus Caldwell from Ocean’s Eleven (Matt Damon). Which makes no sense, but doesn’t it a little? It became a running joke, and then a running a joke that I was gonna write it, and then not a joke. Ain’t that the way?

So yeah—Third: I’m hesitant to get somebody excited about a new hockey fic only to open the email and see it’s a batshit crossover that literally no one (except my sisters) is asking for. That being said, I started it as a joke/challenge, but ended up making something that I find quite a fun little ride because I was so loose with it (because, like, who’s ever gonna see this, right? Some real dance like nobody’s watching shit). I’ve written a bunch of stuff never meant to see daylight, but this fic in particular feels complete. It just has a lot going on (Hidden identities! Never Been Kissed-style fake student/professor tension! Chase scenes! Cameos! Close-up magic! Heist crew banter! Idris Elba’s North London accent! My total lack of military knowledge!). Also it’s over 30k words. (Yeah.)

Is there any interest in me posting this?? To be clear, I’m definitely not expecting it to be popular or anything, but taking the time to fix it up only makes sense if I know at least two people will lay eyes one it, lol. You don’t have to know both films really well for it to make sense, but familiarity with the Ocean’s trilogy and characters probably helps a lot for context since it takes place in between those movies. Goes without saying that no offense will be taken if there isn’t clamoring demand amongst hockey rpfers for 30k of Pacific Rim crossed over with a George Clooney movie franchise in a fic that has neither giant robots nor giant monsters (nor George Clooney, in any appreciable quantity)... Think I’m capable of taking that sentiment on the chin. 🤙

#replies #lOng replies damn #fic stuff

[youngster-monster]

how do you manage to update your AO3 fics so frequently when you're in UNI, im a freshman this year and i barely have time to brush my hair before lectures lmao. anyway how's the WoW fic going, are you still updating that? :) No pressures if you aren't, just wanted you to know you're awesome. (ps: it's @.ityezyji on ao3)

the answer is that i write in class instead of working 😭

but yeah, it’s a struggle. honestly i forgot how to sleep and eat real meals as a freshman. it gets easier as it goes though, so hang in there!! and for the love of god, don’t do it like me, sleep at least 7h a night. life is so much less miserable when you’re getting enough sleep

as for the wow fic, which i assume you meant monachopsis, it IS still getting updated! (and i’m also very glad to know you want to read more 🥺)

i’m working on the last instalment right now (it’s 69k words long so far! and it only took me FOREVER), it just got a bit delayed by working on my thesis project + starting a second degree in remote + working on christmas fics for all my writing buddies + whumptober (what, me, biting off more than i can chew? i would never) (help). 

i’m planning on getting back to it in january! on god i’m gonna finish this before june.

#asks #houshoucoco #thank you for this kind ask 🥺 #if you want to keep writing while busy as hell with uni #i recommend finding a routine/method that words WITH your schedule #like writing on your phone during your commute #or writing while your pasta is cooking #once you get used to writing a little bit every day it gets easier #and it's pretty relaxing to do something creative after uni classes! #but do NOT stress yourself #uni is hell