#honey bee james au
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Lead us not into temptation
Kokushibo x Nun!reader
I NSFW I 18+ I MDNI I
A/N: Another highly anticipated request from Anon: Link here.
Plot: A young nun struggles with her carnal desires and in the midst of that gets corrupted by a hot demon. To us, who indulge in sin, let us hope we will all need an exorcist by the end of this smut : ) : )
Warnings: SMUT. Oral. Masturbation. Vaginal penetration. Dirty talk. Creampie. Fingering. Wet dreams. Mild Dom!Kokushibo. Dirty thoughts. AU. Slightly sacrilegious-but hey, this is only fiction.
Word count: 3502
Masterlist
…And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and, the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen. (Matthew 6:11-13; King James Version (KJV) of the Bible).
This was the fifth consecutive night that you were kneeling alone at night in the convent’s empty chapel, saying the Lord’s Prayer repeatedly. Your thoughts were, to say the least, impure, and this was the penance that the friendly old priest administered you in the daily confession. With autumn at the threshold and the harvest over and done with, there was much less physical work for the nuns. Autumn and winter were the time for prayer and withdrawal. A time to give the tired physical body rest after the intense labour of spring and summer. The convent’s gardens and orchard were breaming with fruit and vegetables, the bee hives full of honey and the poultry barns overrun with chickens, geese, and ducks. Everything was now harvested, prepared, and stored for winter. Enough food to provide for both the convent’s needs as well as to help the impoverished families in the nearby settlement.
But your body was as fertile and ripe as the gardens in summer and rest was not what it seemed to crave… You often wondered what would it be like to belong to a man. Your family could not afford the dowry and there were only two choices for you: the brothel or the convent. When the latter was chosen, you knew you would never experience a man’s love. The former option, however, would have only given you a corrupted and twisted mockery of such love.
When you first stepped over the worn-out stone threshold of the large, grey medieval building, you felt apprehensive, to say the least. One look at the large crucifix, the only thing adorning the spacious vestibule, and the worry of a lonely and cold life were gripping you as tight as a vice. With time, you learned how wrong you were about life here. The nuns were warm and kind and since this was not one of the strictest orders, you were allowed to venture out to the village bringing food and medical aid to the inhabitants, who in turn treated you all as if you were angels. This was not a bad life. You enjoyed the gardens and your favourite chore was tending to the animals.
At last, you finished your fiftieth Lord’s Prayer and slowly stood up, straightening your black nun’s habit, and readied yourself to walk back to your cell. The shortest way was to walk through the glorious sacred garden in the courtyard adjacent to the chapel. The cells were situated in the cloister, the open gallery walk that wrapped around the courtyard. The garden was magnificent in autumn, with leaves turning all shades of fire and sun.
As you stepped on the gravel pathway, you stopped in your tracks. There, in the corner near the large acacia was a tall figure, judging by the broad shoulders, a male. You realised this could have not been any of the priests as they did not stay at the convent at night, but also, none of them was this tall… Apprehensive at first, you cautiously decided to approach him, your natural curiosity was always stronger than fear. As you were getting close, suddenly three pairs of eyes stared at you. They were red with golden pupils. Was this a dream? Who was this?
‘Who are yo…?’ you spoke with a slightly hitched voice, but before you managed to finish your sentence, he was gone.
You stood for a while as petrified but then hurried to your cell. It was a sparse room, big enough for a simple bed, a closet for your habits, and any other garments you needed. There was also a desk, a chair, and several candlelights, which you requested especially since you were an avid reader and writer and the convent’s library had a wealth of approved literature.
After finishing your bedtime routine and saying your prayers, you crawled into bed, the last thought occupying your mind being the strange sight you encountered in the garden.
Without the candles being lit, your room was pitch black. You could barely make out the contours of your furniture. Suddenly, you heard a quiet rustle next to the foot of your bed…and then six burning eyes appeared out of the dark. A large hand started caressing your thigh and moving up toward your groin, a sudden light kiss on your lips, and a hand stroking your cheek and neck. You almost flew up, but the same strong, large hand pinned you down in place.
‘Shhhh, someone will hear you.’
A deep, masculine voice came from the direction of the eyes. You were speechless, this was surely a dream and well…you were curious as to what would happen next… A hand was now massaging you between your legs, not moving in under the cloth of your undergarment yet, but this was enough for your juices to slowly overflow. You moaned quietly and this was encouragement enough for the male to slide his fingers under the cloth. As he was spreading your slick-covered folds, your pleasure was slowly taking over you. He was rubbing you up and down between your labia, not even yet touching your clitoris, a long finger slowly tracing circles around your opening and another prying its way inside you…
You touched yourself so many times before, but this was so entirely different. The anticipation of where his touch was to land next was the difference between a deliberate move of your own fingers. This was indescribable. You were trying not to moan too loud, but staying quiet was not an easy feat. When his touch finally reached your erect little bud, you were close to bursting. It did not take him long to push you to your orgasm and as you climaxed you released your juices all over his hand. The next moment you woke up, still riding out your orgasm. You were completely soaked between your legs from all the cum you squirted out. Sunlight was peering into the room through the narrow window, it was most obviously morning. You were in bliss, but also shaking your head at the dream that left you in this state. Because… this surely must have been a dream… This would be an interesting confession…
‘Father, forgive me for I have sinned.’
The old, kind priest sighed as you uttered the routine phrase.
‘Is it the same… as usual, dear child?’
‘Yes, father, but this time it felt like someone … did things to me. I was not touching myself at all. Well, it was a dream, actually. But it evoked an indecent response from me… The thing that did trouble me, was that even though that someone was human, at the same time, he did not seem to be. He had six eyes and had a demonic aura about him.’
The priest sighed again and shook his head.
‘Look, dear child, what you are experiencing is normal for someone young. Believe me, we all had such thoughts in our youth. Just try and work on changing the focus of them. As for the form of your assailant, well, do not dwell on that too much. I am sure it is not possession or anything unholy like that. The human brain is blessed with the capacity to imagine, so do not dwell.’
He paused and smiled a little to himself.
‘You know, you are a good kid, the villagers adore you for your kindness and help. I am sure the Lord will overlook your recent troubles with yourself.’
With that, he drew the sign of the cross in the air in front of him and said the prayer of absolution:
‘(…) I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’
The week that followed was a blur. For every day that went, your focus on daily chores and routines was diminishing as the wet dreams were increasing in length and intensity. Your thoughts were preoccupied with…him. The six eyes were etched in your mind like an unholy vision. Every night spent in the chapel on your penance prayers was wearing you out and making you more and more susceptible to daydreaming of being ravaged by the male. You were imagining what he looked like, what his manhood would feel inside you…Every time you were dismissing these thoughts in a futile attempt to regain some sanity, they were hitting you twice as hard as soon as you lost your slightest focus. It was all a dream you were telling yourself…
It was a particularly dark night when you ventured back into the empty chapel after the Sunday evening mass. A part of the penance was to tidy up and blow out the candles, leaving you with only a couple lit at the altar near the main nave, where you usually knelt to say your prayers. At this point, you started to feel like maybe an exorcist would be your best option.
Your obsession with carnal pleasure and that demon or whoever that was that invaded your thoughts, was becoming unbearable. No matter how many wet dreams, how much you touched yourself, and how much you repented and tried to push these thoughts away, your senses seemed to not even come close to being satiated. You knelt in resignation, the burning sensation between your thighs as intense as ever, wetness pooling between your legs at the only thought that was occupying your mind.
‘… and lead us not into temptation…’
but the temptation was only getting stronger. At that moment, you sensed a presence behind you. The already dark, somber space suddenly grew darker. You turned around only to see the six ferocious eyes staring down at you. But this time you finally got a chance to see their owner. You gasped at the sight. The demonic eyes and strange red marks on his face and neck aside, he had a fully human form. A tall, solid-built male with a huge mane of thick red-black hair. He wore an outfit whose origin you did not recognise, but it did do his figure justice. Apparently, he was a warrior of some kind as there was a foreign-looking sword at his side.
‘Greetings, holy woman’ his polite words were laced with scorn.
‘Greetings’ you managed to stammer in reply.
He was foreign-looking, how could he speak your language? He could apparently read your thoughts as he indulged your curiosity:
‘I am an ancient demon and human language is a mere trifle to me.’
A demon, so your fears were confirmed… How did this happen? Did you somehow manage to summon him?
‘You did not summon me, you foolish girl. I roam this earth and when I stumble upon something that appeals to me, I merely claim it as mine.’
His self-indulgent speech was making you nervous, but also weak at the knees from anticipation.
‘The dreams when I touched you were not dreams at all, I was there with you, and I already savoured your sweet juices. I could have ravaged you many times over, but you humans are a special kind. Playing hard-to-get and pretending to be pious and oh so holy. But deep inside of you all dwells a beast so ferocious that it makes us demons seem like angels at times. But now, it is time you give in to me and to the beast inside you. I will fuck you right here, for your Lord to see. And he will watch while you begin to serve a new Master.’
His deep, melodic voice was sending shivers down your spine. It resounded perfectly in the solemn space of the empty chapel. His lewd words gave this medieval temple more justice than any sermon you ever heard…
You stood up in the last and futile act of defiance, but in that instant, you were pushed by the large male toward the nearest wall. His large frame dominated you and pressed you into the hard stone of the wall behind you, making you almost breathless.
‘Look at you, so beautiful and innocent. A flower ready for picking’ he was talking in a hushed, slow tone.
‘I bet you will not be as innocent once I show you what real pleasure feels like.’
His handsome face was now adorned by a smile, a vicious one at that, as the thought of corrupting this holy servant of a God so many worshipped, was making him crazy with lust. It was his work as a demon, to kill, enslave, turn people into demons, and corrupt women into the deepest abyss of carnal yearning. He enjoyed this, the power of it, as centuries went by and his strength grew, so did his desire for more conquers.
His hands were slowly starting to take possession of your body, gently, but deliberately caressing your face, neck, bottom, and breasts. He lowered his head and kissed your lips with the lightness of a falling rose petal. He kept on kissing like this down your neck and then back up to your lips again. This time the kiss claimed more of your lips and his tongue slowly snaked its way into your mouth.
Your mouth welcomed him greedily and soon you were intertwined in a passionate kiss. He held your head in his large hands while kissing you and when he let go, he helped you remove your clothes and went down on his knees before you. He cupped one of your breasts with one large hand and started spreading your swollen, slick-covered folds with the long, calloused fingers of the other. You were now so familiar with this from all the wet dreams, that were not dreams at all. The coil in your belly was tightening slowly and you were starting to edge when he moved to rubbing circles around and on your blood-filled clitoris.
He then leaned into your sex, blowing soft kisses on the outside of your pussy. His tongue started darting over your clit, flicking it lightly, eliciting even more moans from you. The warmth in your belly was turning into burning heat. You felt like soon you would be losing all control over yourself but before that happened, there was something you wanted to know. Without asking him directly about his identity you posed a more indirect question.
‘Don’t you want to know my name?’ you moaned.
‘I already do, y/n. And my name is Kokushibo, remember it well, because after tonight it will be the only name you will need to repeat in your prayers.’
With that, he stood up again and you automatically wrapped your legs around his strong hips. He was now carrying you in the direction of the altar and soon enough, you were shamelessly splayed on top of it. Not lifting his burning gaze from your naked form, he started removing his own clothes, leaving you to admire what was slowly being unveiled to your vision.
If it wasn’t for the scars that covered his entire torso and arms, he might just as well have been a statue that came to life. His body was as if carved of stone, with skin deliciously stretched over the defined muscles. As he removed the last clothes covering his body, a black, skirt-like garment tied with ridiculously long belts, you could now admire his manhood in its full glory. It was already erect, huge, straight, and veiny with a bright red tip.
At this point there was not a clear thought in your head, your lust fogging up whatever reason and decency that was left. All you wanted was him inside you. The tingling in your belly was increasing as if a swarm of butterflies was attempting to find a way out of your insides. Your craving was that of a beast, your inner muscles spasming and clenching on air, slick pooling out of your cunt, all in expectation of him finally granting you the fullness you so much lusted for.
And you did not have to wait very long because as if in response to your body’s call, he grabbed you by the hips and slid you closer to his rough ones. His cock was now perfectly aligned with your entrance and he slowly started pushing into your clenching walls. The sensation of being filled up like this was making you delirious with pleasure. Every inch he gained was adding more and more to your already peaking arousal. At last, he bottomed out, but before starting to move, he stretched out his arm and grabbed your chin with his large hand, tilting your head so that you could look at the crucifix above the altar. His lips were contorted in a frown, he was baring his fangs.
‘He is looking at you. And now, I want you to tell him who is your new Master. Say it.’
With that, he started slowly thrusting into you. You were moaning, but his grip on your chin did not lessen.
‘Say it!’
‘Lord Kokushibo is my new Master, my only Lord.’
You moaned out, your breath getting heavy. Satisfied, he let go and increased the force and pace of his thrusts. It was as if time has stopped and there was only now, you and him, in this sacred space, performing this unholy sacrament. Your juices mixed, your bodies intertwined. Every spot inside you was stimulated, you could feel the veiny texture of his dick rubbing back and forth on your plush and swollen walls. If this was a sin then you for sure belonged in hell. Because this was something you no longer could live without. And when your body finally reached the limits of what it could take before being plunged over the edge and into the eruption of your orgasm, you knew that this demon would be your bane. You were indeed possessed.
As you were riding out your climax, he kept on pumping into you with unchanged force. It was now his turn to grant himself a release. He pulled you closer to him, changing the angle slightly, so that his rough hips were even closer to you. The sound of flesh smacking flesh, the wet squelching of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy, and your lewd moans echoed through the sacred building. His eyes were closed and his head thrown back, a glorious fallen angel with a halo of black hair with red tips that in the dim light of candles made it look as if he was emerging out of the fires of hell. His thrusts were not losing any of their strength or speed as you started to feel another orgasm approaching.
‘Kokushibo, my Lord, I am…. going… to come again’ you managed to moan out in your hazy state.
He opened his eyes and looked straight at you with a dark, lust-filled gaze.
‘Then I want you to say my name when you do and tell your old God who your new one is.’
He said with a vicious smirk while increasing the pace and strength of his actions. Every thrust was sending you closer to your climax and when it was time for you to come again, you moaned out loudly
‘My Lord Kokushibo… you are… the only God… for me now’
And with that you climaxed and your consciousness started to blur.
He leaned over you now, small droplets of sweat running down his chest, making his skin glisten in the dull, warm light. His breath was very heavy and his thrusts were getting sloppy. ‘I am close now’ he hissed through gritted teeth ‘I will fill you up with my demon seed and from now on you will forever be parched for it.’ With a final powerful thrust, he climaxed and emptied himself inside you, riding out his high with a few slower thrusts at the end. You were so overfilled, that his semen was pouring out of you around his cock and onto the altar. This was sacrilege, a sin beyond repentance. Yet, you knew, that this was just the beginning of your journey to hell and that you would not allow anyone to exorcise this demon out of your life.
You were still lying flat on top of the altar, breathless and blissed out, looking up at the crucifix and then at your demon lover’s face, when he finally pulled out, resulting in the remaining semen flowing out of you shamelessly onto the sacred stone. He smiled at the sight and lifted you up toward his chest, landing one last deep, hard kiss on your lips. He moved the hair out of your face and caressed your back, you reciprocating the action, barely able to reach around his large torso.
‘Will you be back?’ you asked in a weak voice.
‘If you pray to me, I will.’
Image downloaded from Pxfuel.com
Banner by @cafekitsune
Divider by @saradika
Tags 💕: @muzanswaifu @muzansfangs @doumadono @paintoreos @fuckkyourlife @abandonedhhearts @tired-writer04 @koku-shibou and @kokusfluffyhair @koyuki-the-flower
#demon slayer#smut#demon slayer smut#demon slayer x reader#kny smut#kny x reader#kokushibo#kimetsu no yaiba x you#kny fanfic#kimetsu no yaiba#kokushibo smut#demon slayer kokushibo#kokushibo x reader#kny kokushibo#kokushibou#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer x you#demon slayer x female reader#kny x you#kny au#kny x y/n#kimetsu no yaiba kokushibo#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#kimetsu no yaiba smut#kny imagines#demon slayer imagine#kny fandom#demon slayer fanfic#anime fanfic#michikatsu tsugikuni
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avenger/agent reader fic recs
bucky barnes x reader
❤️ = fluff
😔 = angst
🔥 = smut
📱 = social media au
multiparts/series:
single bed - @sebbymylove16
Part 2 & Part 3
You and Bucky have to share a single bed on a mission and it prompts him to say what’s been on his mind for a while ❤️
sly as a fox - @sunmoonandeddie
Part 1 (master list links are broken)
After the blip, the Avengers continue on with business as usual. But they soon find out that while they were away, someone took it upon themselves to do the job they left behind. ❤️📱
catch me - @buckyywiththegoodhair
In which a bet leads Bucky to have to catch you every day for a week, no matter what. ❤️😔
honey and the bee - @chrevastan
One sleepless night brings you to the large communal kitchen at the Avengers Compound. Fully furnished and equipped but barely used, you decide to give the room a little culinary love. Little did you know, your new hobby would bring you some special moments with your friends and opportunities to get to know the newest addition to your team—Bucky Barnes. [chef!reader, baker!reader, avenger!reader, t: enemies-to-lovers] ❤️😔
10 signs an introvert likes you - @andyl394
Bucky wasn’t the type of guy to show his feelings and neither were you the one to notice subtle things, until you come across this video; A guidance that may help you discover rather The Winter Soldier likes you or not. ❤️
mirror for the sun - @imhereforbvcky
Nat tricks you into leading a road trip with Bucky, Sam and Steve. Her plot is partly to get the boys to travel for fun for once but mostly to get you and Bucky together. You and Bucky, who seemingly despise each other. ❤️😔
guiding light - @wkemeup
It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can. 😔
deadcrush - @heli0s-writes
Part 2 & Part 3
Deadcrush, a game played based on the question “what historical figure would I want to take on a date if they were alive today?” ❤️
best boyfriend you never had - @language-rxgers
When you find out your sister is getting married and expects you to bring a date to her wedding in two months, you panic, having not gone on so much as a coffee date with a guy in far too long. After all, being an Avenger doesn’t leave too much time for a life outside of work. So, when your best friend, none other than the James Buchanan Barnes himself, offers to pretend to be your boyfriend and plus one, how can you refuse? It seems like something that would come out of a movie. However, real life is never like the movies, and stories like this never go as planned. ❤️😔
the coupon book - @tuiccim
12 part series each part a sexy coupon being used 🔥
play pretend - @wkemeup
part 2
When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help. But once that line is crossed, Bucky’s not sure he can ever go back. (sex pollen) 🔥
almost had me believing it - @tuiccim
An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes’ wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise. ❤️😔🔥
#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut
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Obligatory 2023 Round Up.
https://karenjcarlisle.com/2023/12/29/obligatory-2023-round-up/
It’s that time of the year. Time for year round ups and formulating new year’s resolutions. I thought I’d share a quick look back at 2023.
Books
This year was busy with writing, revisiting works-in-progress, releasing three more books, and all the events that go with them.
The following is the number of book-related things for 2023:
local events attended: 5
This year I attended Oz Comic Con, Comic & Toy Fair, Supanova, and two new events: Mayhem Collectors Fair and Author Night Market. I trialled new tables displays and book merch at the last two events.
interstate events attended: 1
author talks: 1
This was the first year for the Wimmera Steampunk Festival (to be held bi-annually). I was fortunate to be invited to do an author talk (and steampunk 101 for those new to steampunk). The talk co-incided with my character – Viola Stewart’s – birthday and the 30th anniverary of (the coining of the name:) steampunk, so bonus!
books published: 3 paperbacks (includes republished Department of Curiosities) and 3 eBooks
online book launches: 3
This year, I re-published The Department of Curiosities with a new cover and new internal art. Two new books included the steampunk short story collection Cogs and Conspiracies and Blood Ties, the first book in the mini adventure series the James Findlay Journals.
Both new books had an online launch party with giveaways, and there was another (delayed) launch for the re-release of The Adventures of Viola Stewart eBooks, combining the previous stories, with new covers, to match the paperbacks.
You can rewatch them here:
Blood Ties – book launch
Cogs and Conspiracies – Online Launch
eBook Series Launch – The Adventures of Viola Stewart
words written on current WIP: 45,824 / total November NaNoWriMo: 17,227
I’ve made headway on book 2 (The Department of Curiosities series) during the two dedicated NaNoWriMo events this year. Not as many as I’d have liked, but it is moving forward. Real life has been an issue.
new story ideas added to my list: 8
I can’t elaborate too much on this, as… well, spoilers. (Patrons get early sneak peeks… just saying)
number of book covers created:5
Two were: Cogs and Conspiracies and Blood Ties. One was for a fellow author (and I can’t show it until she’s ready to publish), and two are related to the new story ideas. (See above comment re spoilers). I tend to create the cover while the story is bubbling away in my head.
number of writing/research courses attended: 5 (online)… actually six!
These included research for future book projects, an ASA (Australian Society of Authors) course on public speaking (in hope it may help some pre-event panics), one on using a writing resource, and writing courses dedicated to specific genres.
Shorter Stories
short stories written for Patreon supporters: 10 (+2 excerpts from WIP)
short stories submitted to anthologies: 1
Top tier supportes get a short story reward each month. Many are exclusive. Some have been printed in the recent Cogs and Conspiracies or other short story collections. This year, I also added two excerpts from the first chapter of my current work-in-progress (book 2 of The Department of Curiosities series)
Art, Design & Book Merch
bees crocheted: 49
I started crocheting bees as book-related merch for The Aunt Enid Mysteries (the bees communicate between the many worlds in my stories), with AU$1 from each bee sale going towards helping bees on Kangaroo Island. I’ve sold 31 so far.
I love bees. They are crucial to our lives and pollate various foods, especially stone fruits. They also provide us with honey. Though I’m allergic, we plant bee-friendly plants at home, and don’t use sprays.
new t-shirt designs: 8
new mug designs: 2
When I can’t write, I crochet. When I’m not crocheting, I draw. I NEED to create. This year I did (half) of Inktober. Some of the images were digitalised, coloured, and uploaded to my RedBubble store as t-shirts (and mugs)
new badge designs: 5
I loved the cat and books design (from my original art in Aunt Enid: Protector Extraordinaire), so I made a new badge… then I designed and made some more. The new badges debuted at the Author Night Market this month. I’ll have to load them onto my webshop some time…
On a more personal note:
tiktok posts: over 365
This is both book-related and personal. Someone told me I was too old for Tiktok. Ha! There are many on #over40tiktok and #over50tiktok, especially authors and readers.
Books do well on Tiktok. While I’m not in the popular genres of romance, romance fantasy, or spicey romance fantasy, there are many who read my genres. I talk about my books, as well as tea, D&D, and mental health. I’ve found creating short posts has helped with desensitising myself to appearing in public… (even if it takes several ‘takes’ to get in the right headspace.)
number of mid-night hospital trips: 1 (only one is a record!)
I’m still working on minimising my panic attacks before events. I continued to talk about mental health (and my experience with anxiety and PTSD). Talking about mental health is important.
I usually end up at hospital (via ambulance) 3-5 times a year (my extreme panic attacks mimic heart attacks). So far, I’ve only had one this year! I’m extremely happy about that.
Health Scares and dodging bullets: 1
2023 started in the worst possible way. I faced January 1st with a diagnosis of breast cancer, prepping myself, then surgery and my family for ongoing treatment.
One week after surgery, I returned to the oncologist. I was confused. Why was he grinning like a Cheshire cat? Turns out I had a very, very rare (<0.1% in women 25-45 years had this option, and I was over that age group) fibromatosis – a benign tumour that mimicks breast cancer in every way. The only way to differentiate is with extensive pathological testing once the tumour was removed.
So, a worst-case scenario became one of relief. Weirdly, I found a sense of calm from the whole situation. It’s helped my mental health, and I’ve actually had more moments of bliss than I’ve experienced in over a decade.
Please don’t forget to do your checks!
And that’s the short version…. (I know)
Thank you all for following my adventures this year, and I hope you have peaceful and safe holidays. See you next year!
#2023 round up#Aunt Enid Mysteries#book events#books#conventions#Events#fun#launches#memories#new year#steampunk#The Adventures of Viola Stewart#The Department of Curiosities#writing
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Pourquoi les nids des abeilles et des guêpes se ressemblent-ils autant ?
Les nids d’abeilles et de guêpes sont tous deux constitués de petites cellules hexagonales et adaptées à la taille des individus que la cellule héberge. Alors que guêpes et abeilles ont évolué de manière indépendante pendant 179 millions d’années, des chercheurs se sont interrogés sur les raisons de cette convergence et la manière dont elles harmonisent le nid.
Par Marie Parra le 27.07.2023
Honey bees and social wasps reach convergent architectural solutions to nest-building problems | PLOS Biology, 27.07.2023 https://journals.plos.org/plosbiology/article?id=10.1371/journal.pbio.3002211
[Image] Dans le sens des aiguilles d'une montre à partir du haut au centre, les nids des espèces : Apis mellifera, Vespula flavopilosa, Apis andreniformis, Vespula shidai, Metapolybia mesoamerica et Apis florea.
Michael L. Smith, Kevin J. Loope, James C. Makinson, Tatsuya Saga, Kevin J. Loope, Bajaree Chuttong (CC-BY 4.0, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/)
Bernadette Cassel's insight:
"L’architecture des nids d’abeilles et de guêpes est très similaire. Elle implique notamment l’utilisation de cellules hexagonales. Pourtant, aucun de leurs ancêtres communs n’est un constructeur d’hexagones !"
Marie Parra
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Love & Anarchy: Chapter 23
hey, merry xmas!! i hope you are having a pleasant morning/evening as i am <3 i decided to post this chapter as i have nothing else to do but finish this harmful au (and im not ready ofc). consider this a small present, as its not violent nor painful, just a bunch of prodigies gathering and organizating a ‘small’ revolt. merry xmas again! hope you enjoy this little chapter <3
REMEMBER THIS AU HAPPENS IN THE SAME UNIVERSE THAT THIS ONE
Find out what this AU is about here
Masterlist
Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @honey-hippie-harper @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare @magykaldealings @nobellrenaissance @cerenoya @cassin-the-assasin @cindersnightmare
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Part 2: A teen named Ace Artino
17 years old Alec
“Here we are.”
Each and every one of the recruits was present, present where they had been called to meet. Leroy Flinn, wearing a pair of faded jeans here and there, a T-shirt from an old band, and his greasy hair. Henry Bleach, in his baggy hoodie, his paint-stained high-end sneakers, and his hair on fire. Bruce Chapman, in a worn out wool sweater, round glasses, and the strange ashen guidy jaff of him. Margot Climat, her hair in a very long braid, a glossy black leather jacket and boots, and a shiny white shirt that boasted the word ‘purchasing power’ in Alec’s eyes. Carrie Harper, in a jean jacket and pants, an old worn out short-sleeved T-shirt, and her hair in a bun. Honey Harper, in a soft yellow dress, a pair of old leather sandals, and her hair like a curly blonde cloud.
And Alec, in the blackish blue sweater that had been Alexandra’s, the coat James had given him for his last birthday, stolen leather boots, and his hair combed to the side. He had decided to be relaxed, to give an impression of respect but also of confidence; that was also the reason why he had called them to that specific place.
A twenty-four-hour pizzeria in the middle of the western suburbs.
So there they were, at three in the morning, eating the cold pizza that was left over from the kitchen of the place.
Alec inhaled subtly.
“Before I start telling you the ideas I had for our project,” they had decided to call their revolution a ‘project’, so as not to take any risks; although it was most likely that only they were listening, “we should introduce ourselves, as I am (and not even completely), the only one that knows you all. You already know who I am, so please, Leroy, could you start?”
The aforementioned looked at Alec with wide eyes; he had cut him off in the middle of putting a slice of pizza in his mouth. Leroy cleared his throat.
“Well mmm... I'm Leroy Flinn, I'm nineteen years old…”
That was when Honey cut him off with a sarcastic laugh.
“What is this? Alcoholic Anonymous?”
Leroy blushed, Alec took a breath, Carrie gave her sister a reproachful look.
“No, Miss Harper, we are planning a project, a big one; it will take our lives forever.” Alec paused and looked at everyone. The next thing he said to everyone was, in a stern voice to make them feel what he was saying. “Maybe you’re thinking ‘It's just a project’ but no, my dears, it’s a pledge. This is a choice you make now and that will change your lives completely. If any of you just don't feel like liberating the most oppressed group of society, fine then, you can leave and miss the glory of doing this. It is your choice and your choice only.”
Nobody said anything. Everyone except Margot looked at the ground.
His and James’ voice complimented him on being so persuasive.
I’m so proud, my dear Ace.
He cleared his throat and motioned for Leroy to continue, with a nod of his head.
“As I was saying, I'm nineteen years old and I have the ability of generating acids that ooze on my skin,” Leroy said, his voice a little shaky. To demonstrate, he took a napkin from the table, placed it on his hand, and without applying pressure, burned it only with his powers. Honey arched an eyebrow, not being dismissive or shocked.
“Thank you, Leroy. May you continue, Henry?”
He smiled friendly and settled into his seat.
“Hey everyone, my name is Henry Bleach, but please just call me Henry. I'm eighteen and I can melt into magma anytime,” he introduced himself, his smile still on his lips.
“Wouldn't you mind doing a demonstration?” Honey asked, in a clearly sarcastic voice. Alec resisted the urge to ask Honey to be quiet until it was her turn, but he had a better idea.
“Miss Harper, wouldn't you mind introducing yourself? I can see you can’t resist talking so…”
She blushed but nodded.
“My name is Honey Harper, I'm twenty years old and I can control any kind of bee. Watch,” she requested and a bee crawled out of her fluffy hair, landing on one of her knuckles like a ring. Margot was looking at her mesmerized, Carrie was looking at her with wide eyes, as if she was still shocked by such ability.
“Bruce, can you continue?”
He nodded enthusiastically.
“Hi folks! I'm Bruce Chapman, twenty-three years old, psychics student. My power is to manipulate atoms, break them and put them together,” he introduced himself radiantly, and to exemplify his complicated power, he took up another napkin; he turned it to dust in one blink and a paper cup in another. Everyone except Alec, who could do the exact same thing but with another concept, was surprised and cheered softly. Bruce blushed.
“Margot…” Alec said, when Margot herself began to introduce herself.
“I am Margot Climat, fifteen years old, and my ability is complicated. I'm able not only to control the weather but also change with it. The color of my eyes is defined by the color of the sky and my hairstyle, by the wind and humidity. It’s insane, I know.”
“It is fantastic,” Alec expressed, and the others agreed with a nod. Margot smiled with her teeth, which were as radiant as her clothes.
“Who's next? Carrie?” Alec inquired and granted the word to the quiet Carrie Harper.
“Good night everyone, I’m named Carrie Harper, I’m seventeen years old and as you must have noticed, I’m Honey’s little sister. My power isn’t as cool as hers but here’s what I can do.”
She closed her eyes and the plant that was on the table behind her began to grow and grow and spread until it curled up on Carrie's forearm, which was a couple of meters away until that moment. The plant had grown so much that it began to wither and return to its original place, intact though it had just died. Carrie opened her eyes and breathed out, at the same time that she reached for a slice of pizza and brought it to her mouth, as if recharging energy. Honey snickered and gave her sister a friendly nudge.
“Well done, Flower Power,” she crooned.
Carrie didn't reply.
Alec rubbed his palms together and cleared her throat.
“Now that we know each other's names and ages, we can proceed to the plan. Let’s not ever forget what we are here for, what’s our goal. It isn’t getting power, nor fame, nor destroying this society just because. It is freeing our people, once and for all. It is making a change, an unforgettable one. No matter what it takes, no matter how many sacrifices we have to make, we will change this world.”
At all costs, whispered the voice in his mind.
“At all costs,” Alec repeated.
They all nodded.
“To make a change, we have to destroy this empire. Turning down an empire has three parts: infrastructure, government and society. First, we're going to knock down bridges. Shatter roads. Tear down buildings. Smash everything we can. To the sake of this, under the cause of freeing prodigies, freeing ourselves from the chains we have around our necks. We’re going to warn them, and when they don’t listen (because they won’t, they don’t even try to), we’re going to keep breaking down every significant construction in Gatlon.”
Those present gulped. Honey's eyes were shining.
“Are you willing to do this?”
They nodded again. A fire flared in Alec's chest.
“Now, the next part of this project is the hardest. Being the Saviors of our kind means sacrificing many things but above all of them, means sacrificing innocence. We’ll have to wash our hands with blood, when we erase the government, and do what has to be done. These people we’re going to punish, aren’t innocent at all. These people deserve the worst punishment they can receive, and that’s what we’re going to give them.”
He looked each of them in the eye, one at a time. There was fear, anxiety, courage, but above all, a will stronger than a diamond.
“Are you willing to do this?”
This time, they responded with their voices.
“Yes, I am.”
Alec grinned with his teeth, trying not to look like a maniac.
“The last part of this plan is society. Once their leaders are gone, we’ll proclaim ourselves the ones that made that possible. We’re going to demand rights for prodigies, and encourage prodigies to be themselves, to break everything, to do what has to be done, to be anarchic.”
From Leroy to Carrie, they watched him, spellbound by his speech, by his promise of freedom. Seeing everyone so trusting in him gave Alec his identity.
“Because that's what we are: Anarchists.”
It was with that that he ended his speech. They applauded him silently, so as not to attract attention (although they had the place to themselves), but the true compliment was the euphoria on their faces, the hope, the strength.
They were unstoppable under his leadership.
They drank their soda cans.
They ate the remaining slices of pizza.
They laughed, chatted and got to know each other more thoroughly. They told where they came from, how they came, why they came. They mourned their losses, and fell silent to remember the lost. They remembered why they were planning what they were planning. They discussed more details of the plan, until they reached one of vital importance.
“Wait! What about the costumes, and the aliases and the…?” vomited Honey, waving her hands hysterically, shaking her slice of pizza.
Alec raised his index finger and placed it on Honey's lips, brushing them more than touching them.
“Say that again, but slowly and justified,” he asked, and let her speak.
She took a breath.
“I mean, we will just go dressed in normal clothes, using our names? We must have the attention of every citizen in Gatlon, and dressing this kind of clothes,” she pointed out to herself and her sister, “and using such a boring name like 'Honey Harper', we won't be disguised. We must be unique, have names that are unforgettable, be… heroes.”
Carrie sighed and was about to say something when Alec nodded.
“I find your idea, Miss Harper, very practical. Let's do it.”
She blushed.
“Choose your alias, please. One by one; Leroy, you start,” Alec indicated and granted the word to the first recruit.
Leroy stuttered and proclaimed himself as:
“Cyanide? I guess it's okay.”
Alec nodded.
“It’s perfect. Henry, please continue.”
Henry grinned with his teeth.
“Magma.”
Alec smiled in amusement, perhaps because it was a very specific alias.
“Bruce, your turn.”
He laughed as a child.
“Atomic Brain. It’s ingenious, I believe.”
Alec smiled subtly and looked at Margot, asking her to name herself
“Tempest,” she announced, sure of herself and her new identity.
She gave Alec a smile.
He just looked at her, and he requested:
“Carrie?”
She gulped.
“Flower Power.”
Honey laughed.
“You got attached to it, didn’t you?”
Alec cleared his throat.
“Miss Harper, please.”
Honey sighed, dramatic.
“Queen Bee, of course.”
Alec sighed, and uttered his alias.
“I am Ace Anarchy.”
Honey smiled, and commented:
“Of course you are.”
#love & anarchy#love & anarchy au#ace anarchy's backstory#a teen named ace artino#ace anarchy#ace artino#alec artino#alec james artino#honey harper#queen bee#leroy flinn#cyanide#bruce chapman#atomic brain#margot climat#tempest#carrie harper#flower power#henry bleach#magma#anarchists#renegades#before renegades#my au#renegades au#renegades fandom#marissa meyer#au#fic#my fic
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thirteen years in liquid gold kisses, they are still together in the woods
In an au where James was in a coma rather like Frank and Alice for a few years rather than dead, jegulus and wolfstar vibe. Rest in peace Lily, don’t worry Harry grows up knowing you were the best damn mother.
tw: panic attacks, mentions of death
He remembers the dusting of freckles and the pause of her hands, soft, smooth, a haze grazing the edges of his memory – and it scares him, (that haze, the idea he would someday forget all together) so he tries not to remember too often.
But she always knew ‘mother intuition’ they’d called it, his nose bumping against her neck, a thumb dipping below the waistline, and she laughed, tugging away like a ghost. She always knew, just before the cry, even under the glow of the light and the scent of flour in the air where their bodies lingered for a moment, encompassed in time.
Except James realises pretty quickly it was not mothers institution, that creeping feeling welling in his chest as the clock ticked and the kettle boiled, like a well opening up in his chest. That unease – he’s not wrong , as the floo flares to life and a bedraggled shape forms, stumbling over the soot. It’s not mothers intuition it’s just , his son , he would stop the world for.
Soft curls like a veil across his face, fingers grappling with the edge of the kitchen table to avoid falling and James almost smiles. Except it’s term time and Harry knows he’s only supposed to use the mirror. Except there’s a soft sniffle, and when those eyes rise to meet him they’re red, sparkling with a glimpse of tears that send his heart pounding through his head.
“What's - Roe , love what's wrong?”
James lurches to his feet, as if the entire world was thrown against his axis and his head swims faintly. Harry’s bottom lips trembles, and he’s half curled in, like the crumpled wad of paper clenched in his hand, shoulders hunched, but he shifts on the balls of his feet and does not move any closer.
“I- I- ,” a shaky inhale, torn up between ragged breathing, and a hand running through his hair but Harry tries to compose himself, and James hates that.
“I messed up . I didn’t mean - but he , he was s-saying and i -”
“Hey, hey now, breathe baby,” And James is banging his hip on the back of the chair as he passes, but even that feels numb, like a buzz on his hip or a bee sting. He drops, knee’s protesting faintly and he knows Regulus will laugh later, under the covers as they whisper, but for now, his fingers graze the shake of his son’s shoulders as he crouches. Not quite touching.
Harry does as asked, still gripping the edge of the table, a deep, shuddering breath and he holds, eyes squeezing shut, a sob dripping on the exhale that folds like a shutter in the wind, the break of glass beneath a storm.
“That’s it, you’re doing great buddy,” James fights the urge to bundle him up like a toddler and never let him go, and a whisper that sounds suspiciously like Regulus wanders into his ears, (‘you can do it on his birthday instead, when all his friends are watching’ a soft chuckle and hands on his waist ‘you’re a cruel, cruel man, black’).
He waits instead, watching each rise and fall of his chest, until it’s steady, and unwinding free from the binds of tightness.
“Can I touch you, honey?”
On another day, at another time, when Sirius is sat on the counter swinging his legs against the cupboard he would scowl behind a glass of tea-and-something-stronger and mutter ‘that’s my name’, because they remember when Harry was rolling around, just starting to crawl. They remember the look on Lily’s face, as Sirius blew raspberries on to his belly, ‘honey, ‘honey-bug, oh do you like that? bug, bug, bug!’, the glisten in her eyes that surpassed the fear shrouding their lives. Some melancholy painting of wonder and a tight knit, stitched family. James remembers how they disappeared a little later, and Sirius was the one red eyed when they returned, but this gentle, awed smile wavering on his face, as if there was something in the world he could hardly believe and it had been put at his feet.
Unconditional love, James understood later.
A responsive noise in the back of his throat and Harry’s hands wind into the cuffs of his sleeves, another deep, shuddering breath and they silently count four seconds together.
“It was Malfoy,” a lick of his lips and a breathless trace to his voice, James gently rubs the hands gripping his sleeves with his thumb,
“That’s okay, take your time. We don’t have to do this right now.”
But Harry shakes his head, and his eyes flutter open, still swimming with tears and James wants to reach out, to smooth away the creases of pain drawn along his face.
“It was .. he was talking about .. calling her- people that word and I just ..”
“You hit him” James finished softly, swallowing the lump in his throat as Harry flinched, a jerking, full-body movement and a tremor runs through his shoulders.
“I just hate that he thinks he’s better than everyone else, and gets away with it. That- that he can say mudblood” he heaves in a sharp breath and James bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own venom seeping in, a few choice words clinging to the tip of his tongue.
“But I get detention as if it doesn't matter. And I’m not saying I don’t deserve it, except Snape does think that, he always thinks that, why am I not allowed to defend my - I mean she’s fucking dead, no one else can do it !”
His voice rises, stumbling forwards, their limbs bumping awkwardly until his face buries in the soft cotton of his fathers shirt and the tears spill over his eyelids with a shuddering sob. He wasn’t scared his father would yell (except he was, he was always scared, or guilty, when their faces fall as he flinches please don’t move too fast I’m sorry ), but he didn’t want more than anything, to disappoint them. Snape’s face, those burning eyes, where coal pitches in the flames and bares down on his soul, the low hissing voice in his ear as hands drag him up, daring him to put up a fight.
But most of all, as the anger drains from his shaking fists, the blood running down malfoys pasty white face, like china splintered down the middle, like the broken vase on the Dursley’s mantle and Dudley’s own fist -
What if his mum would hate him for it?
“Oh Roe, Bambi, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Soft coo’s, and their bodies rock in a gentle motion, like the sea lapping at his heels but warm, kisses pressed against his head trailing liquid gold down his back. Hands, safe, kind, rubbing circles against his back, a single motion he could follow. The faintest scent of cinnamon lingering in the cotton, her cinnamon, under the burnt candles and motor oil, wood and earth and grass and he presses closer, he has too, his dad; the one who understands.
James would willingly crouch there for days on end, even as his legs protest, but Harry is pulling back, tears tracking down in lines like forgotten paint strokes, sniffing and staring down at the floor.
“Hey, look at me,” his voice scarcely above a whisper, and it takes a moment, but Harry does, bright green eyes billowing with pain that the likes of draco malfoy couldn’t even comprehend.
He catches the next tears with his thumb, rubbing them away as if they are dust on the wind, featherlight and meaningless.
“What he’s saying, what he’s doing, that’s not okay. That’s bullying, and that's racism, okay? And look at you, look at you, you know what's right and wrong - violence isn't the answer - but you’re allowed to defend yourself and I will be damned if that kid gets away with nothing more than a broken nose.”
A choked noise, half relieved, and Harry dives forwards, back into his arms.
‘I am sorry,”
“Stop that, let's let Malfoy do the apologising.”
James would welcome these hugs with gusto if his son, his baby, was not crying into his shoulder everytime. And he would be more than happy to give Snape a huge fucking peice of his mind, when Regulus was back and could take his place.
Then he’d go and yell some more at Dumbledore because who the fuck leaves his child with magic hating muggles, yes, he will have that argument a hundred times over.
But first
“I think this calls for some hot chocolate,” He murmurs, against the soft curls and quiet hum followed, as Harry shifted in his grasp.
“I- you think so?”
Gentle, muffled, and his fingers tighten automatically.
“I know so, love.”
A light kiss against the top of his head, and slowly Harry relinquished his hold.
“And you know what? I bet Malfoy doesn't get hot chocolate like this.”
There - a small, genuine smile cracking on his lips, and James winds an arm around his shoulders. He’d happily make sure Malfoy never had a nice tasting drink again, but Regulus would call that harassment or something.
Lily would agree though. Lily would whisper in his ear, later that night when the whole world was quiet and Harry was snoring softly, tucked down in the sheets beside him, before Regulus made it home, she would be there; reminding him of all the ways to get revenge, probably how to get away with murder, that spark, that fire, a blazing emotion Snape would only see half of.
Because that was what they were, a couple, a coin, this was their child and by damn nooby would ever forget it.
Guilt finds him, nestling into his heart, but never further, as Regulus answers some expression in the dark with a kind, understanding smile. An echo of ‘you did good’ and the ghost of fingers drifting over his hair. Lily would be happy he moved on, Regulus is happy to let him remember. Really, they are the coin, two sides flipped between his fingers and he can't let go, he can never let them go.
#harry growing up with james#james potter#regulus black#jegulus#past-jily#lily evans#memory icon#mentions of#sirius black#draco malfoy#severus snape#canon divergent au#harry potter#anti jkr#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fic#james potter is the best dad your honour#harry is thirteen hence the title#i couldn’t think of anything better
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What was family reaction (Especially ran & Kitten) when the devil himself known as Lucy Drysdale got married and pregnant ??
Kitten was very excited about the marriage, she thinks Chris is the perfect fit for her Little Lucifer, and even her siblings, they LOVE Chris, and even how much he calms Lucy. She still has that devious quality. Now the kids was a bit of surprise. Not that none of them think Lucy can't be a good parent, but because she was very adamant about not having children. She was just okay with her and Chris shacking up at the estate. Chris changed her mind about a lot of things. First marriage, and then kids.
🖤🖤🖤🖤
Everybody’s Business
Summary: Lucy and Chris are having a baby
Pairings: Lucy X Chris
Rating: sweetness
Warnings: mild language, Lucy tears, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 1.2K
Desperate Lives AU Masterlist
Lucy Drysdale Masterlist
Lucy leaves the restaurant her eyes constantly glancing down at her finger. The ring is perfect; an almost classic look, but a deep dark diamond. Glancing up at Chris she gives him a smile. “Is this real life?”
“Yeah, it’s real life, Honey Bee,” pulling up her hand he gives a kiss to the ring. “How are we going to tell your family?”
“How about, you’re finally making an honest woman out of me? You won’t just be fucking me, I’ll be your wife, and it’s my duty to fuck you,” she laughs, but gets all serious. “I think it’s just best to say, we’re getting married all excitedly. You think they’ll believe it?”
“I think deep down, they know that they’re stuck with me. They gotta admit. I’m good for you.”
“You are Pooh Bear. You’re pretty good at jumping on the bed too.”
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Lucy rests her chin on her left hand at family dinner. Her fingers tapping along her cheek, just waiting for someone to make a comment about the new piece of jewelry on her finger. Chris’ arm resting comfortably on the back of her chair, Zephyr in his lap, and no one says anything. She knows she caught Aster and Story looking at it, but they didn’t say anything.
Even Ransom, but he completely ignores her, and that’s when she knows something was up. Even the children. The only one even remotely paying attention to her finger was Brooks, but he’s too young to train. “You guys are a bunch asses.”
“Lucy, there’s children, present,” Story tells her trying not to laugh. “What’s got you so worked up.”
Lucy squints her eyes, looking at every member of her family. “A bunch of assholes.”
“Wucy dat is a bad wowd,” Otto gives her a little giggle, and Ellie throws her head back fully laughing. Even Chris joins in on laughing. “Why awe you so upset?”
She holds up her hand pointing to her perfect ring. “Say something.”
“I’m just glad somebody was willing to put up with you, Little Lucifer,” James answers scratching his head.
“Yeah, you’ve been a pain in our a,” Carter looks over at Story and decides it’s best to change his wording, “butts for nearly twenty-two years. Torturing us, getting us into deals where we had to pay you off or you would run your mouth. And you did anyways.”
“You better be glad I never said anything about you sneaking in the princesses tower all those nights.”
“You knew about that?” Ransom asks, his eyes narrowing over at Carter.
“I let it go, because the Princess finally got her Sir Lancelot. Plus there was a lot of jumping on the...”
“Okay, Lucy. You’re ring is beautiful. I can’t believe Chris got such a perfect ring for you,” Story adds in quickly. “Alright boys, Beck I need the Brookie. Carter let’s go home.”
“Story, sit down.”
“Lucy is engaged, yay! Archie come on baby. Otto, Z, Daddy let’s go,” Carter doesn’t question it, he sees Ransom’s angry face. “Lucy, today is supposed to be your moment, and you’re ratting me out now?”
“You’re thirty years old with four kids, and working on the fifth, why are you so scared of daddy?” Lucy can only smile evilly at her goody two shoes sister.
“Did you just call Carter daddy?” Ransom asks, and Carter shakes his head no. “You did. I’m...oh my god...Story Rose Drysdale.”
“Baizen.”
“Well him is our daddy,” Zephyr responds holding onto Carter’s hand looking up at him. “Don’t be mad at daddy, Papa.”
“Back to this...Lucy, you knew she was jumping on the bed with Carter?”
“Okay, we’ve established this. Carter and I dated in high school, he snuck in my bedroom, and spent the night. We were sleeping. Anyways, Chris, you have fun with you Morningstar.”
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Chris cannot stay off of Lucy’s belly. His hand is always resting on it. There’s not even the tiniest bump yet, but he wants to feel every stretch of her belly. He’d spent all these years with her nieces and nephews and now he’s about to be getting his own.
In the mornings Chris’ head is always laying on her belly, just so he can turn his head and give his baby’s home a little kiss. Her own hands card through his hair once he starts singing ‘Baby Mine’. Lucy softly closes her eyes listening to his soft voice, and then Chris kisses all over her belly.
“Today’s the day,” she reminds him, petting along his face. “We gotta let my family know.”
“Your mom knows. She knows everything. She made a comment to me the other day, telling me it was about time. She knows. Freak of nature. You think Rai man is gonna be jealous of the baby?”
“He’ll be okay. Come on, let’s get this day started. Don’t be shy about holding my belly.”
Chris wasn’t shy, his hand was always on her belly. The softest touch on her tummy, even giving her some belly rubs. “What cha doing?” Beck asks sitting down next to the two of them, holding a sleeping baby. His eyes go down to where Chris’ hand rests. And he just stares at them with the biggest smile. “Is this like the engagement, and you want people to say something? Or are you about to let it out?”
“What?” Lucy asks him with a laugh.
“You’re pregnant. You gonna announce it, or am I going to do it for you?” Lucy has a tender moment leaning up against Chris. “You’ll be good. You’re a good aunt, Luce. I know it’s different with your own, but you two will be fine. Good, one of the best.”
“You mean it?” her honey eyes look up at her brother-in-law. She hates herself for how emotional she’s been since getting pregnant, but she had been having her doubts. Always questioning if she’s going to be good enough. She’s been surrounded by amazing mothers, and she had been feeling insecure.
“Even if doesn’t, I do. These babies love you, Bee. You know that our baby is going to adore you.”
“Did you just say our baby?” Blade asks looking between Chris and Lucy. The rest of the sisters turning to look at them, Iris almost in tears looking at her baby sister, Story just stands with both her hands over her mouth, and Aster let’s out a ‘no more babies!’
“Well, they’re kinda stuck in there. Won’t be long until we’re gonna see what we’re having.”
“Oh baby Lucifer,” Ransom stands up and walks closer to his baby girl.
“Don’t cry, daddy. Because you’re gonna make me...you’re crying. Stop it,” she stands up to give her dad a big hug, and he pushes her back to look at his last baby. The daughter he begged for. “Quit,” she whispers on his shoulder.
“You’ve finally grown up.”
“No. Not yet. We gotta see how having a kid is. And if I don’t like it, I can just give it to Story.”
“You stop,” Ransom leans back to look over Lucy’s little face. “You are going to be an amazing mother, and I know this. I think Chris is going to be a pretty good dad, too. And, your child is never going to be able to get away with anything. Because you sneak around and know everybody’s business.”
Masterlist
#desperate lives#desperate lives au#desperate verse#da au#da au ask#dau#lucy drysdale#destroyer!chris#lucy drysdale x chris drysdale#foxley drysdale#stella elara beck
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Your blog's *chef's kiss* and I wish to ask do you have any quotes or what comes to mind when it comes to love mingled with grief/pain? Like losing someone at the stinging cost of the other? Or looking at a completed wonderful thing but knowing the pain and blood it stands on to be that way? Or when you look at someone realizing you now share hearts whether youd like it or not, that no bond in both your lives will ever come close to what both of you have(1)
how the love stiches both of you up, how achingly tender & vulnerable & warming it is and almost crying looking at where it is, how it is, what it became and what it grew from. Would love to hear if you got any that pops to your mind❤(2)
you are so kind! thank you, angel ♡ here and here are posts that reflect love mingled w grief/pain and tender/sweet love. here are a few more quotes that sort of encompass both for me:
“Not a day passes that I do not see ourselves, you and me, as we were when we met first. Every day of my life I see that.”
James Joyce, Exiles: A Play In Three Acts
“We can never go back. I know that now. We can go forward. We can find the love our hearts long for, but not until we let go grief about the love we lost long ago, when we were little and had no voice to speak the heart’s longing. All the years of my life I thought I was searching for love I found, retrospectively, to be years where I was simply trying to recover what had been lost, to return to the first home, to get back the rapture of first love. I was not really ready to love or be loved in the present. I was still mourning — clinging to the broken heart of girlhood, to broken connections. When that mourning ceased I was able to love again. I awakened from my trance state and was stunned to find the world I was living in, the world of the present, was no longer a world open to love. And I noticed that all around me I heard testimony that lovelessness had become the order of the day. I feel our nation’s turning away from love as intensely as I felt love’s abandonment in my girlhood. Turning away we risk moving into a wilderness of spirit so intense we may never find our way home again. I write of love to bear witness both to the danger in this movement, and to call for a return to love. Redeemed and restored, love returns us to the promise of everlasting life. When we love we can let our hearts speak.”
Bell Hooks, All About Love
“My heart is full not of guilt, or shame, or remorse, but of grief… Everything has become too terribly mixed up.”
Boris Pasternak, in a letter to Leonid Pasternak, from Letters Summer 1926: Pasternak, Tsvetaeva, Rilke
Jamie Anderson // Art piece by Ikenaga Yasunari (x)
“But if it’s love, by God, what is this thing?
If good, why then the bitter mortal sting?”
Petrarch, from the ‘Canzoniere’ (tr. Mark Musa)
“bittersweet, undefeated creature –
against you there is no defence”
Sappho, from Poems and Fragments (tr. Josephine Palmer)
“And if I should pick out the good in you –
each shard of broken light, like glass
from the wreck of such beauty, and look at that –
or one golden afternoon when you hovered above me
in rapture, oh half god –
how would I bear to lift my hands,
how would I bear to close my eyes
and let you fall, and love be damned?”
Cecilia Woloch, “Lucifer, Full of Light,” Carpathia
Ada Limón, Bright Dead Things; “The Good Fight”
“...and if I cut myself, it was you I bled.”
Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping
“I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals.”
Salvador Plascencia, The People of Paper
Henry Dumas, Knees of a Natural Man; “Valentines”
“No te nombro; pero estás en mí como la música en la garganta del ruiseñor aunque no esté cantando.
I never call your name, but you are in me like the song in the nightingale’s throat even when it’s not singing.”
Dulce María Loynaz, Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems; “Poema LVII” (tr. James O’Connor)
Marguerite Duras - India Song (1975)
“I am sad because I love you, because I love you so much, and because I am not a bee to buzz with you lightly. I am not a flower, not a tree, not a rain-hewn stone. I am not a storm or a cresting wave, not a thorn or a vine. I am not the sun stinging the water, not the moon on the snow. I am not a star in the dark. I am not the dew-wet wind, not the cloud-stained dawn. I am only a girl, a small, plain girl, a girl who must smear her lips in honey to be found sweet.”
Amal El-Mohtar, The Honey Month
“Whether it was the quality of light or the clarity of my feelings for you, I don’t know, but there was softness and no blurring. ‘This is not a lie,’ I said to myself. ‘It may not hold, but it is true.’”
Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping
“He takes her in his arms.
He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you
but he thinks
this is a lie, so he says in the end
you're dead, nothing can hurt you
which seems to him
a more promising beginning, more true.”
Louise Glück, from Averno; "A Myth of Devotion"
Anna Akhmatova, Final Meeting: Selected Poetry (tr. Andrey Kneller)
“Your dying is my dying. / In you I exist—to live or not.”
Euripedes, from Alkestis (tr. Anne Carson)
Richard Siken, “Scheherazade”
“First love tempts / then puts out our eyes.”
Salma al-Khadra al-Jayyusi, from ‘Dearest love - III’ (ed. Charles Doria), Women of the Fertile Crescent: An Anthology of Modern Poetry by Arab Women (ed. Kamal Boullata)
Interactive :: House Saints by Hala Alyan
“We were the heartbreak of truth. / We were willing to break even more.”
Andrea Gibson, from The Madness Vase; “Close For Comfort”
“God, what are you doing to me? / What am I doing to myself?”
Adonis, from ‘Concerto for the Veiled Christ’, Selected Poems (tr. Khaled Mattawa)
“No. I was not afraid of him; but of myself. I seemed reborn in his unreflective eyes, reborn in unfamiliar shapes. I hardly recognized myself from his descriptions of me and yet, and yet – might there not be a grain of beastly truth in them?”
Angela Carter, from “The Bloody Chamber”
“It is true we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.”
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus
Keaton Henson, “Alright”
Velimir Khlebnikov, The Collected Poems & Writings of V. K. “My Darling,”
“But love is impossible and it goes on / despite the impossible. You’re the muscle / I cut from the bone and still the bone / remembers, still it wants (so much, it wants) / the flesh back, the real thing, / if only to rail against it, if only / to argue and fight, if only to miss / a solve-able absence.”
Ada Limón, Bright Dead Things; “In A Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me”
The Letters of Frida Kahlo: Cartas Apasionadas, tr. by Martha Zamora
Letter to Diego Rivera, July 23rd, 1935
“I want to give you everything. This is called a sickness.”
Camille Rankine, from Possession
Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours: Love Poems to God; ‘Lösch mir die Augen aus: ich kann dich sehen’, tr. Anita Barrows & Joanna Macy
“Love that incorporates, that devours the other person, that cuts the tendons of the will. Love as immolation of the self.”
Susan Sontag, from Reborn: “July, 1958”
#ask#anon#compilation#quote compilation#the dark's his bone#love as a force of nature#long post#i am. so tired#i hope these make sense#i've got several more asks that i promise i am getting around to --
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hi steph! do you have any recs where john and/or sherlock work in a farm? thanks so much for your help! <3
Hi Lovely!!
Ah, I don't have personal recs, but here's what I tagged on my MFL list:
FARM / RANCH AU (MFL's)
Gone and Changed by cwb (E, 4,617 w., 1 Ch. || Farm/Ranch American AU || Teenlock, Friends to Lovers, Angst, High School, Summer Vacation, Swimming, Hot Weather, Oral Sex, Car Sex, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Falling in Love, Mutual Pining) – John and Sherlock are best friends, until John goes and changes. Part 1 of the Just Like That series
At All Material Time by dizzylittlesunflowers (T, 7,029 w., 1 Ch. || 1930′s Farm/Ranch AU || One Shot) – When John Watson first met Sherlock Holmes, the dark-haired stranger had told him he'd never make the mistake of falling in love. Set in 1930's Southern America, the mysterious Holmes family move into the deserted house opposite John Watson's farm. Intrigued with the strange newcomers, the young farmer lets his priorities slip. But not without consequence.
bread and honey by weneedtotalkaboutsherlock (M, 8,814 w., 8 Ch. || Farming AU || Second Person POV Sherlock, Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Therapy, Alcohol Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Abuse, Early Retirement, Seizures, Service Dogs, First Kiss/Time, Happy Ending) – The next thing you are sure and aware of is the mix of mud and water seeping through your shoes as the cabbie drops you in front of the old farmhouse. You do not know this, but today marks the first day of spring.
above the gloomy copse by HOverSeas (M, 9,849 w., 1 Ch. || Vet / Farmer AU || Farmer Boy Sherlock, Veterinarian John, Friends with Benefits, Insecure Sherlock, Horny John, Sheep and Goats) – John and Sherlock have a good agreement, no strings attached. Of course John’s feelings for James Sholto won’t interfere with it, John thinks, like a fool.
Wild Skies by darkestbliss (E, 13,339+ w., 9/? Ch. || WiP || American Farm/Ranch AU || Age Difference, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Bottom Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Teen Sherlock, Summer Camp, Older John) – Sherlock Holmes, show jumping champion turned druggie, is sent to a small, remote ranch in Wyoming for the summer as part of his rehabilitation process. There, he meets John Watson, a beautiful and good-natured ranch hand who was raised by the West.
lean into a loved body by simplyclockwork (E, 60,199 w., 8 Ch. || Farm / Ranch AU || PTSD John, Post-Divorce John, Trauma, Flashbacks, Beekeeping, Farms, Panic Attacks, John’s a Mess, Soft Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Fluff and Angst, Mystrade, Self-Esteem Issues, Mild Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Discovery, Idiots to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Happy Ending) – Still reeling from Afghanistan, John Watson moves to farm country after inheriting his late grandfather’s property. There, he tries to come to terms with his new reality, the work cut out for him, and the failure of his marriage. To top it all off, his awkward, bee-loving neighbour is kind of a madman.
This Land We Have Chosen by redscudery (E, 86,309+ w., 16/19 Ch. || WiP || Victorian Canadian Farm AU || Farmer John, Prostate Milking/Massage, Mutual Pining, Colonialism, Demisexual Sherlock, Complicated Relationships, Slow Burns, UST, Awkwardness, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Virgin Sherlock, Canadian Politics, Angst with Happy Ending) – It’s 1866. John Watson is a former army doctor who served in India. He left the service after a mysterious traumatic incident and has been farming in the backwoods of Canada. Sherlock Holmes is an avid botanist and possible hysteric who is a very loud thorn in his brother Mycroft’s side. Since Mycroft wishes to run for Parliament during the first Canadian election, he knows he needs his troublesome younger brother out of their hometown of Carleton before he can precipitate any scandal—and what better place for a botanist than a backwoods farm? Especially when it’s run by someone who just might be able to treat Sherlock’s hysteria? Part 2 of the The Backwoods of Canada series
Suddenly All the Songs Were About You by Anna521614 (E, 167,685+ w., 34/? Ch. || WiP || Teenager / High School AU || Friends to Lovers, Gay Sherlock, Confused John, Slow Burn, Anal, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Fluff, Humour, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Banter, Mutual Pining, Top John, Bottom Sherlock, Farmer John, First Love, Angst) – When Sherlock's mom is sent to work at a research campus in the southern United States, he is less than thrilled about having to pack their family up. But once his eyes fall on straight football player and high school senior John Watson- he starts to think it might not be so bad.
Just Like That Series by cwb (E, 201,462 w. across 4 stories || Farm / Ranch AU, Growing Up/School!lock, Sex, Falling in Love, Mutual Pining, Developing Relationship, Falling in Love) – John and Sherlock are best friends, until John goes and changes.
----
Feel free to add more, friends!!
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Okay but for every AU Steve there’s an AU Buck! What’s Buck’s equivalent to Rancher Steve? 🧐
Excellent question, I thought about my answer in the shower.
Little (but actually beefy) Cottage Gardner Bucky.
He wakes up with the sunrise, has two cats, chickens, ducks, two dairy cows, not to mention all the bees, bugs, and birds that call his property home. He has the best garden in the area, his precious little cottage tucked away on the outskirts of town. He sells out of all of his produce and goods that he brings to the farmer’s market each Saturday morning, green beans and peaches and honey always the first to go.
He sends his neighbors bread, milk, and eggs, “oh there’s just far too much for lil’ ‘ol me, ma’am. I insist...”. He has fresh flowers on his kitchen counter each day, cross-stitches in his free time, and almost always refuses to wear the glasses he needs to read. He likes warm tea before bed, walks his property at night, thinks nothing is better than a roaring fire on a snowy day. He looks like he could lift his own house right off the ground but is as gentle as a mouse.
If you ask Steve Rogers about Bucky Barnes, his eyes go dopey around the corners, a special smile gracing his mouth as he tells you that James makes the finest apple pie in the entire state, that his shepherds pie is the best the best thing for your belly on a chilly night, that his strawberry shortcake is the reason for Steve’s extra seven pounds he can never seem to get rid of.
“James is real special to us. The town wouldn’t be the same without him. You tell ‘im I said hi, you hear?”
#yep that’s...#that’s stuck in my head now coolcoolcool#askK#rancher steve#cottage bucky#my HEART is alive
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For @musette22 and the anon asking about Evanstan whump fics (& from the ask sounded like they were interested in Seb!whump?)...
...I knew I had some things in my bookmarks, so I went and looked! I do like comfort along with hurt, so none of these are dark!fics in the sense of lacking comfort, but perhaps one of these will fit what you’re looking for? There might be more in my AO3 bookmarks somewhere, too, but these seemed like maybe good fits?
(side note: some part of me has persistently on and off for years wanted to write an Evanstan version of my old McFassy fic with the “oh god I thought you were dead” trope - like, Chris would be on the way home from filming or an interview or something, and would get home only to discover the aftermath of the fire or the building collapse or the train wreck or something, and oh god Sebastian was there, Sebastian’s not answering his phone now, Sebastian’s - oh god no - but then suddenly Sebastian is there, alive and fine and running over to find Chris, because he’s fine and he missed the train or had gone out for coffee and forgotten his phone or something...) (but I also feel like it might end up being repetitive, since I did do that exact fic, pretty much, with Michael and James...and anyway there’s already a glorious Evanstan version of this trope, in my first rec below!)
Anyway! Fics that might work:
At the Bottom of Everything, Anon, 12k, T. Angst with a happy ending, fake character death, Chris thinking Seb was on the plane that crashed (but he wasn’t), SO MANY FEELS.
when the words hit (my heart stopped), Anon, 3k, T. Sort of similar tropes to the above but with a funnier slant, in the end - Chris gets a horribly garbled message and can just make out “Sebastian, car accident, hospital,” and he’s utterly terrified, but - without real spoilers - it turns out to be not that bad. :-)
the falling into motion series by @boopifer, currently 2 stories, 7k and 4k, M. AU with mob boss Chris and escort Seb, more Seb!whump in story two, when one of Seb’s assignations goes badly and he comes to Chris for protection after. Inspired by, er, my and Reg’s Amateur Cartography, which I’ll mention next, I suppose?
Amateur Cartography by me & MonstrousRegiment, 97k, E. I never know how to describe this one! Um...AU with...art teacher Chris, mob boss’s son / sort of escort Seb (his father lends out him to important people to flatter them and keep them happy), slow burn until it’s not, kidnapping, hurt/comfort all over the place, and I apologize for how many times Seb gets impaled / shot / injured in this fic, but I swear it’s a happy ending!
the we walk the sun series by me & @thebestpersonherelovesbucky, currently 5 stories (it reads as complete; we might still do a sixth one, set a few months later, but you can read it all as is and it’ll be fine), stories range from 9k to 3k, overall E rating. Sci-fi AU with kidnapped & forcibly genetically modified (no non-con, just experimentation) cat!Seb, lots of trauma and recovery and healing, exploring those changes, dealing with Seb in heat, gentle Dom/sub themes because Seb still belongs to Chris in every way.
...let’s see, what else...
...probably a couple of the Extra Sugar bonus chapters would fit here? Like chapter 6 or chapter 28, both of which have hurt!Seb? (chapter 6 is worse in terms of sexual assault, though we mostly see the aftermath, with Chris rushing to find his submissive in the hospital, so the non-con’s not really on-screen, as it were; chapter 28 is Seb in a car accident and in the hospital)
...and maybe a couple of my very early fics with hurt!Seb? Just Like Honey to the Bee and Stars Out Of The Blue both have Seb with minor on-set injuries (not major whump, but...) and protective Chris and love confessions; All That You’re Making Of Me has the chapter with Seb’s date (well, random hookup at a club) escalating into non-con oral sex and then Seb calling Chris and Chris taking care of him and lots of comfort. <3
That’s what I can think of at the moment that might work! :-)
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Love & Anarchy: Chapter 27
heyy, how you doin? i’m going through a rough writer's block, so i'm pretty dismotivated :') anyways, i have nothing to say about this chapter as it just is xd. have a nice week and enjoy this chapter <3
REMEMBER THIS AU HAPPENS IN THE SAME UNIVERSE THAT THIS ONE
Find out what this AU is about here
Masterlist
Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @honey-hippie-harper @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare @redassassin @magykaldealings @cerenoya @cassin-the-assasin @cindersnightmare
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Words
23,222
Part 3: A man named Ace Anarchy
17 years old Ace - Age of Anarchy Year 0
“I can’t believe we’ve done this.”
“Well, I do.”
Margot hit Henry.
“When will Leroy and Honey come back?” Carrie asked, as she made tea and coffee with Bruce in the kitchen.
“I have not even the slightest idea,” replied Ace, who was reading the book James had lent him, on the couch. He didn't have much to do but wait, so he had sat down to read. However, he could tell when someone requested his attention, so he put the book aside and took the cups that Carrie and Bruce had, with his invisible hands. He distributed them throughout the room, although now they were all in the living room. Coffee for everyone except Carrie and Ace, who were drinking tea this time. He didn’t need more stimulus, but to calm down.
They were at James Roselo's apartment, waiting for Honey and Leroy to arrive with news from the city. Gatlon was a mess, succumbed to an impressive social earthquake and the biggest crisis it had ever experienced. The news channels were all cut off, given that, after the Anarchists had taken the most watched channel to announce they mayor’s assasination, other people had taken their example and started looting the buildings to the fullest extent (in addition, the regular civilians were very scared to go out, practically nobody went out to work). Every day more sirens and more police and even military were heard, but the rebels were too many and, also, they were prodigies.
They had no chance against them and their abilities.
Ace knew that.
He had always known.
That's why he was so calm, so relaxed, sitting cross-legged in the leather chair, his helmet hugged by his right arm, and his mental hands holding his cup of tea, waiting for Honey and Leroy to return from their search for news (it was the only way to know what was happening: go to the place of the possible events or where there were informants and/or witnesses of the event of interest to the Anarchists).
All but Margot and Ace (who were the only ones staying far from the riots, since powers of such magnitude were not required), were looking like a mess or with traces of foreign blood on their skins. Carrie's hair was disheveled, outside of her ponytail, and her boots were stained with brown scabs (Ace preferred not to know if it was blood or mud; his senses said it was blood but to his eyes it looked like dry mud). Henry and Bruce, meanwhile, were full of white powder that seemed to be indelible; they were tangible and living ghosts. They hadn't had a minute to shower or to clean themselves, nor did they want to, so there they were, sipping hot drinks and waiting for their Anarchists brothers to arrive.
Suddenly, the door to the apartment was thrown open, giving way to two even more tatty beings.
“Oh God,” Carrie sighed and she instantly went into the hallway looking for something.
Honey Harper and Leroy Flinn looked like soldiers who had been through the worst battles and lost them all. Honey's dress was ripped, her leg was bleeding, her hair was disheveled in a blonde aura; a hive full of buzzing bees. She was hanging on to Leroy, who didn't have much to brag about either: one of his teeth were missing (Ace could see the gap between his gasps), and his robe had been snipped to death. They were falling apart like ancient buildings under the advance of modern society.
Ace jumped up to help them and closed the door with his powers; no one could see them, otherwise they would report them and they would come looking for them (an ambush was always a disadvantage, no matter how powerful those surprised were). Henry and Margot ran from the blow of the armchairs and went in search of what Carrie had already gone looking for.
“Oh no, what happened?” Henry asked, kneeling to look at Honey.
She shot him an angry look, despite her collapse.
“Guess.”
Leroy gasped and fell to his knees to the ground, rendered like a soldier who knew he had lost the war. Ace rearranged the individual chairs to return a stretcher for the boy. He grabbed him below the knees and under the armpits (with the help of his powers, which were pulling at his clothes), and laid him on the makeshift stretcher. Leroy was breathing through his mouth, and his eyes were closed, as if reality were too much agony for him.
“They recognized us,” he replied to Henry's question. Margot groaned.
“Of course they did.”
Carrie, who had returned from looking for a first aid kit, grabbed Margot’s hands and put a bottle of ethyl alcohol between them.
“Collaborate,” she commanded, in her soft voice.
Margot grunted again and went to assist Honey, even though she was already being assisted by Bruce, who had cleaned his dusty hands to do that.
Ace leaned in to clearly see what was going on. He lifted the couch with his powers and placed it at the level of his hips, for comfort. He had no idea about laughter or medicine, but neither could they call a doctor (a civilian who was not a prodigy would want to help someone who was destroying a society that favored them, for sure) so it would be necessary to improvise.
“What shall we do?” Ace asked Bruce, who seemed to be the one who knew the most.
Bruce looked at him, depressed.
“Well… ummm… let's cut Honey’s dress in order to be able to clean and sew the wound properly.”
Ace nodded and used his imaginary hands as scissors. With an acceptable precision, he cut a rectangle of cloth that used to be yellow (now it was red and black) that covered Honey's wound on her thigh. Wasting no more time and without disgust, he used his real hands to put pressure on the wound and prevent her from bleeding even more.
That was the only thing he knew about medicine and he already had his hands stained with blood from before.
Bruce took the ethyl alcohol from Margot's hands and the cotton that Carrie had in the first aid kit. He moistened the cotton with a little bit and began to clean the wound after he asked Ace to stop putting pressure there, very careful not to hurt Honey, though it was useless, as she cursed under her breath anyway. All of them but Henry, who was assisting Leroy, gazed at the wound, only to become pale when it was partially cleared and showed all its deadly potential.
Ace might not know anything about medicine, but he knew that this wound was serious.
Bruce bit his lip.
“Sister, what happened?” Carrie asked and took her sister's hand. Honey didn't reject her (there was no point in expending effort rejecting affection while you were bleeding to death).
“I… I don't know. It happened so fast… we were going back to Leroy’s lab to pick up some stuff he needed and then we would search for some news but… they found us. They were waiting for us, they tried to arrest us, it went wrong. There weren’t only cops but also prodigies and citizens that hated us… everyone started shooting and the last thing I knew is that I had been hurt.”
Margot, who had moved away from her as soon as she saw Honey's wound and was handing Leroy an ice pack to ease her bruising, commented:
“If they know who we are, then they know where we live.”
Ace nodded.
“We’ll have to find somewhere to live.”
Henry frowned.
“Weren’t we living here?”
Ace denied, though what Henry had just said was true (they were living there, but the apartment was quite uncomfortable for seven people that were the most wanted by the goverment). He moved away from Honey since Bruce seemed to have everything under control and approached the table, to clear it in a blink of an eye; all the weapons, food dishes and other garbage went to its place. Once the table was cleared, he took a map out of his pocket. He spread it on the table; he took up all of his space. Margot left Leroy to see what the table was.
“Nice, are we renting a property? I'm sure anyone would be pleased to sell us an apartment,” she joked sarcastically. Honey laughed from her gurney, though it cost her a groan of pain.
Ace looked at Margot with a raised eyebrow.
“Now that we are an organization, we must have a place where to live and organize everything we will do, as this isn’t over. I’ve exhaustively analyzed all of Gatlon’s tall buildings and got to the conclusion that the best place for us to have our headquarters, is here.”
He pointed a finger at the point marked on the map, and showed it to the others.
Margot didn't loosen her brow.
“Gatlon City’s Cathedral? What are we, Anarchists In the Name of God?”
Henry bit back a laugh. Ace smirked.
“No, Margot my dear, we are the gods, and we deserve our own cathedral,” he replied and earned a smile from Margot. He continued presenting the arguments, “Gatlon's Cathedral is the perfect place for us to be safe: it has a bell tower higher than the buildings around, it's in downtown’s limits and the beginning of the suburbs. It’s also next to the highway that limits Gatlon. We’ll see every enemy coming and leaving, every prodigy that wants to help, and it's big enough for us to do anything we please without bothering each other.”
Henry took a notebook out of his pocket.
“You should be a real-stater, not a revolutionary.”
Laugh, Ace; showing humanity to your mates will make you earn their affection and loyalty.
He allowed himself to laugh. It sounded strange in his mouth, after having spent so much time without laughing like that.
For the others too, because they looked at him in surprise (except Margot, who was looking at him with a subtle smile).
“Do you agree?” requested Ace, seeking the approval of his peers. Henry shrugged.
“I guess. Sounds cool.”
Carrie and Bruce nodded in agreement. Margot rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her lips.
“Let's do it,” she exclaimed.
Honey groaned when Bruce touched her wound.
“Same,” she replied. Ace approached them again.
Bruce was preparing the needle and the thread, but Ace came up with a better idea.
“Your power is to unite and separate atoms, isn't it? Of any kind?” he questioned. Bruce smiled and replied:
“Exactly.”
Ace smiled, enigmatic.
“Why don't you suture the wound with your abilities? You’d just have to unite the atoms of skin on top of the wound.”
Bruce gulped.
“I-I could try.”
Ace nodded and looked at Honey, who had her eyes closed in pain.
Bruce took a deep breath and put his hands a few inches over the wound, which was still bleeding. He closed his eyes and breathed in, trying not to spread germs. Suddenly, Honey's skin began to expand and form bridges to reach the other side of the wound. The atoms, which formed cells, united and reproduced in seconds, pulling the skin further away. The exposed flesh also began to grow, approaching the top layer of skin. Little by little, the wound was covered until only new skin remained and it seemed that nothing had happened.
Honey moaned.
“Thanks, Bruce,” she thanked him and she took Ace's hand to stand up. Carrie went to her rescue instantly, and escorted her to the bathroom to clean herself.
Ace knelt next to Leroy, who stared blankly at the ceiling.
“What did they do to you?”
Leroy looked away from his eyes.
“Not much. I was lucky in comparison to Honey.”
Ace nodded and felt Leroy's bones. They were intact, though he, too, felt his bruises throbbing, sharp and heavy.
“How do you feel about moving to the cathedral?” Ace asked him, as he handed him a glass of water and arranged the chairs so that he could sit and recline comfortably. Leroy accepted the glass and sipped from the water. The glass was left with a blood stain.
“As long as we stick together, it is as comfortable as any other place.”
Ace gave a proud, compassionate smile and gestured for Margot to hand him some cotton. Margot snorted, and threw it at him. Ace caught him with his mental hands and shot a smug expression at her.
“Cheater,” she replied and a memory was unearthed in Ace's mind. One night, a coast, a beach, three people, a soul, a jar of chips, a dispute, three skills, a complaint, a word, a being...
Ace's throat tied like a rope around his neck.
Alexandra.
She had already been dead for two years.
Seven hundred and twenty days without her laugh.
Cheater.
ALESSANDRA!
Ace blinked and slapped the memories away.
They were his fuel but he shouldn't waste it on knotted throats and burning eyes.
No.
He had to invest everything in destroying buildings, collapsing bridges, blowing up highways. All his power was made to be anarchic, to be free, to be destructive.
He was Ace Anarchy, after all.
Not Alec Artino.
Not Ace Artino.
Ace Anarchy.
The Revolutionary.
The Savior.
That he had chosen to be.
That he must be.
There was no going back.
He stood up and laced his fingers together. He walked away from Leroy's couch and walked over to the piano to sit on its stool and begin to play, as James had taught him so long ago. His lessons had been short but fruitful, as Ace remembered every note, every word, every lesson. His fingers flowed like water in a stream and the melody too, only it was a blizzard seeping into the Anarchists eardrums. Margot came closer to listen better and Ace hoped that Alexandra's spirit possessed her and claimed that this music was depressing, but the girl just closed her eyes, feeling the music throb inside her.
Ace felt it too.
And he played until the sun went down and the citizens hid in their apartments (if they had even come out).
He relaxed his hands and turned, after releasing a breath of air.
All the Anarchists were looking at him; Honey and Margot were even drinking wine from a bottle, sitting in the wooden and leather chairs. Bruce's mouth was gawking, Henry was looking at him with arched eyebrows, and Leroy and Carrie were smiling calmly. They were impressed.
Ace smiled and tried not to blush, though he never did.
Honey clapped her hands enthusiastically and tossed him the bottle of wine, knowing he would cut her off.
Sure enough, Ace cut her off and took a sip from the spout as gracefully as possible. The wine was delicious; you could taste the presence of red fruits and the years of a good vintage in its flavor. Margot arched an eyebrow, pleased.
“Cheers.”
Ace raised the bottle, as if thanking her, as if thanking them for everything.
“Cheers.”
-
The night had died.
And only the vestiges of it remained in the sky, a couple of stars stronger than the others.
The Anarchists were in front of Gatlon’s Cathedral, which looked like a castle with its three floors, its Gothic towers and its bell tower (the tallest). They all were wearing their Anarchist uniforms, hidden in the wreckage of the night, waiting for the first ray of light to signal to take the cathedral and make it their own. Ace and Margot were the only ones who weren't relaxed and were staring at the sky in a position that would later cause torticollis. They were impatient.
Ace lowered his head and looked at his brothers. Honey looked like nothing had happened to her and Leroy only had a couple of bruises and a missing tooth as evidence of their ambush. Bruce was a second away from falling asleep, and Ace didn't blame him, since they had been planning all night how to take the cathedral without intermediaries. Henry and Carrie were playing with the flowers that grew on the asphalt; the girl made the flowers grow and the boy melted his hand over them, causing them to burn and turn to ashes. Ace heard the contact of the lava with the plants, like a ssssss.
Margot nudged him, subtly, compared to her usual brusqueness and pointed her index finger at the sky, which bathed in light. Ace nodded and gestured for the others to follow him to the entrance to the main nave. He used his mental hands to open the huge wooden doors without smashing them, and the others went through them. Once they were all inside, he closed the gates so that only he could open it.
When he turned his gaze to his Anarchists, they all stared at the ceiling, mesmerized.
It was completely normal, of course. The ceiling was lined with Gothic arches, painted with curved and detailed patterns, generating a feeling of love and at the same time, insignificance. The ceiling was eighty feet above the ground, and it was visible from the upper corridors if you poked your head out. There were many pillars, which supported the ceiling and clung to it in such a fluid way that it seemed impossible it could have been made by a mere human.
Everything in the cathedral was superior to the usual Gatlon City architecture.
Ace continued moving forward through the main nave, while the others admired the architecture that he already knew so well, despite the years. As he toured the space surrounding him, he remembered how he felt the first time he was there, with his brother’s company. That one time, it was his brother who had guided him through the nave, who had taken his hand and led him to their front seats. That time was the first time Ace went to mass without his sister and how awe inspiring the cathedral was compared to the church in his town, he was overwhelmed.
Yet there he was, walking confidently to the chancel, as he hadn't walked since he was twelve, the last time he had gone to mass.
We weren't a super religious influence, were we?
He shook himself with a sad smile and reached the chancel, which had Mary with a colorful and impressive stained glass window behind her. Although at some point in his life (most of it, in fact) that image had given him peace and comfort, today it only rubbed him in the face as if everything had been a delusion, as he had hoped that a non-existent being would save him from dying in the streets, as it had made him naive, stupid, dependent.
However, thanks to Julieta’s stories, he had realized that he had to be the Savior.
And he would be.
He turned to look at his Anarchists, who were still in trance by the inhuman architecture of the building. Margot was the only one who had reached the chancel with him and was waiting for his instructions. Honey was praying under her breath, and Carrie was not looking at the ceiling but ahead. For their part, Henry, Bruce and Leroy looked like three children seeing art for the first time. Ace sighed and snapped his fingers a few times. They all turned their attention to him.
“Tempest, Atomic Brain, come with me. Queen Bee, Cyanide, Flower Power and Magma, please confirm that we are the only people here,” he commanded and turned right, towards the stairs by the corner of the side aisle. Bruce and Margot followed him, and Ace noticed how the others split up to inspect the cathedral.
The stairs were made out of rock, with wide and straight staircases. Ace, Margot, and Bruce ascended two at a time, as they had to be in the bell tower by the time the sun touched most of Gatlon's buildings. While Bruce stumbled a couple of times, Ace and Margot were impervious throughout the ascent, until they reached the top floor and the stairs became narrower and made of wood.
Ace was the one who reached the highest point of the cathedral first. Margot and Bruce followed.
“Wow,” Bruce exclaimed, surprised at how high they had come here in such a short time.
Ace smirked and pulled a flag out of his pocket. Bruce took it between his fingers, pressed one end against the wooden pillars of that part of the tower and closed his eyes. In a second, part of the flag was one with the pillar, and it was fluttering in the wind, black, free and with a yellow ‘A’ painted in the center. Margot smiled through her teeth and the sky thundered loudly, suddenly filled with dark clouds. Ace rang the bells, one, two, ten times, until he could see how the cathedral’s neighbors were gathering below, at his feet.
Bruce started laughing, proud and happy of their achievement, and Ace's and Margot's laughter joined his uncontrollable laughter. They had the cathedral, they had their fortress, they had their place, they were free, they were doing what no one had ever done. Everything was worth it, after all the pain and effort.
And it would be.
-
Number by number, Ace dialed the one for his old apartment. His finger came and went, since it was an old phone, the kind that had no buttons but a wheel with the numbers inside. He couldn't expect less from the old priests who lived there (until the Anarchists came, of course).
He finished dialing the number and waited. With his ear uncovered, he heard war cries in the distance and a thud against the wall. He didn't even flinch, since, in fact, he had had to ask his brothers to cover up for him in that fight, just for that one time. In the next one, he would take care of everything so they could rest.
If that could be called resting.
A long, prolonged (and frankly annoying) tuuuuuu was heard on the telephone line. Ace matted his helmet on the phone table with the tips of his unoccupied fingers and waited. His knuckles were turning white from squeezing the oil-black phone.
The only purpose of that call was to verify that his brother was still alive, and safe, if possible. Ace hadn't spoken to him in weeks, as between recruiting prodigies, planning destruction, and destruction itself, his everyday life had slipped through his fingers. Ace didn't remember the last time he had eaten, that he had slept, or even the last time that he had worn anything other than his black and gold uniform and his helmet. He lived by and for revolution and liberation of prodigies, nothing more, nothing less.
The tuuuuuu stopped and only silence was heard.
“Who is this?” David said, his voice shaking and visibly exhausted.
Ace sighed, mildly relieved. It was fair to say he didn’t have the best relationship with his brother, but he was still his brother, and it took a load off him to know that he was okay.
“Brother,” he murmured, against the tube.
David sighed on the other end of the line too, exasperated and tired at the same time.
“Oh Alec, was that you?” David asked him, deep disappointment in his voice. Ace's fingers tightened on the tube. He knew perfectly well what he was referring to.
“Yes, it was me, in fact,” he said, proud of himself, not intimidated by the disappointment that his brother exuded. He didn't need his approval, or anyone else's.
David sighed once more.
“Oh brother…”
Ace grunted to himself.
“Don’t be condescending on me, David. I did what I had to do,” he explained, trying to sound cold and distant. He searched for James' voice in his mind, but it was muted, so he had to cope with his own coldness. He took a deep breath and waited for his brother's response.
David also took a deep breath, before replying:
“Did you?”
#love & anarchy#love & anarchy au#ace anarchy's backstory#a man named ace anarchy#ace anarchy#alec artino#alec james artino#honey harper#queen bee#carrie harper#flower power#margot climat#tempest#bruce chapman#atomic brain#henry bleach#magma#leroy flinn#cyanide#my au#au#my fic#fic#marissa meyer#renegades#anarchists#renegades au#renegades fandom#before renegades
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[ID: A drawing of Sasha James and Martin Blackwood as corruption avatars, both sitting on the concrete floor back by back. Sasha is a black woman with short dark hair, orange mushrooms growing from her neck and arm, and light mycelium branching from her hand toward the rest of her body, while Martin is a white man with ginger hair and freckles, honeycobs growing on one of his eyes, his chest and arm, dripping honey. He has his remaining eye closed, leaning on Sasha’s back with a relaxed position as he licks a bit of the honey dripping from his eye, a bit of her mycelium branching on his skin, while she’s sitting leg crossed with her face away from the viewer. There are bees flying around them, some entering Martin’s combs and other hiding in between Sasha’s mushrooms. In the background there is grass growing and some mushrooms growing on Sasha’s side, and behind them there is a double pattern; of white mycelium and geometric honeycombs behind Sasha and Martin respectively. //End ID]
originally sketched this for the tma countdown day 2: Corruption but i haven’t had time to digitalize it til now :) my idea was to draw each day with an au of my faves as avatars from different entities bc i love those aus
[commision post]
#tmas5countdown#the magnus archives#sasha james#martin blackwood#martinsasha#eeeh sure#corruption!sasha#corruption!martin
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frerard aus where one or both of them are parents or highschool frerard aus with bullying?
Hi Nonny!
I've made a list for you where Frank and/or Gerard are parents.Check back for your other request in a day or two!
Frank And/Or Gerard Are Parents
F is for Frank by silver_etoile, 23k, Mature. Frank can't even cook mac and cheese. How can he possibly live up to being a father? Maybe the new preschool teacher can help.
How did I survive without you? by Frnk, 9k, Not Rated. Frank thought he knew everything, he had a job and an apartment, he was studying in school and working his ass off to pass his English exams. Then his entire world got turned upside down by a little boy left on his door step.
i will do my best to be... by picht, 4k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. It’s Friday evening, 6 PM, and Frank is fucking nervous. Griffon’s first meeting with this new troop begins in fifteen minutes, and they’ve been sitting in the church parking lot for the past five. There’s a lot of things that could go wrong here, is the thing. Hopefully, Frank thinks, third time’s the charm.
Sometimes the world gets so damn lonely, ya'know? by Frnk, 7k, Not Rated. "Like sometimes its not about getting drunk or talking or whatever. Sometimes you only need someones company to feel less alone in the world."
Wicked Little Town. by xofunghoul, 26k [WIP], General Audiences. In a small town in New Jersey where nothing much happens, Gerard Way runs his family's diner with his best firend Ray and he thinks his life is going nowhere special and is fine with it until Frank Iero, a young single dad of twin babies moves into town and shakes things up a little with his witts and big green eyes.
Ice Creams and Bloody Knees by charmlesstrans, 3k, General Audiences. "Good morning, girls! Time to get up!" Frank knocked and cheerily called into Lily and Cherry's room bright and early at 8 AM. "Noooo," protested Lily from behind the door. "Too tired.." Cherry explained with a sleep-muffled voice.
Four Killjoys and a Baby by forgoo, 19k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. "We are not keeping a baby!" "How hard can it be?" The story of how four teenage outlaws became the guardians of a tiny helpless baby and then raised that baby to be the tiniest Killjoy, messiah of the Zones.
Can we keep it? by NatMadness, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Chris always came home with a different animal in his hands. Gerard always said no, they already had three dogs and they were a lot of work, but the kid kept bringing them with him every day after school. Of course, he was a 6 year old little boy with a deep pasion for animals and Gerard loved that, because it reminded him so much of Frank.
Taste by A_A_Dolan, 11k, Mature. The most forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest. When married man, father, and successful artist, Gerard Way, meets an Italian, attractive, hazel eyed musician/singer at a local café...an instant attraction occurs and when things between them get hot and heavy...sudden consequences come with the price of being unfaithful.
B.F.F. by iamcatastrophicc, 36k [WIP], Mature. Gerard Way has wanted to be a dad ever since he was a kid but as he gets older he fears he might not be able to and tries to adopt. Unfortunately, they won't let him because he's a single dad so instead him and his best friend devise a scheme to get Gerard a child.
How I Met Your Father by Monroeville, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. “Dad, are you gonna tell us how you and dad met again?”
The Sad Dad Club by mousefrnk, 85k, Explicit. Ex-frontman Frank Iero is a single dad in New Jersey doing his best to raise his three girls. He meets Ray and Gerard, two dads with sons in the same class as one of his girls. Along with Gerard’s brother Mikey (who is soon to be a dad himself), they make plans to hang out every Friday, asking each other for advice and getting some much-needed adult social interaction. Thus, the Sad Dad Club is born.
Arrange The Sorrows And Joys by flax_wench, 26k [WIP], Explicit. Frank is a young, unemployed former musician in desperate need of a job; Gerard is a wealthy, single father searching for a nanny for his beloved baby girl, and hires Frank to be her nanny against Mikey's advice. Much to everyone's surprise, he turns out to be a perfect fit, and to no one's surprise, the two men slowly begin to fall for one another. Love, angst, a whole lotta smut, and an adorable baby named Lola.
I Hate my Weaknesses But they Make Me Who I Am by Frnk, rockforfrnk, 15k, Mature. Frank is a stay at home dad and suddenly his stomach issues cause him problems. All he wants is to be better and focus on his family.
Sonna Kimi ga Suki! (That Was Good!) by momiji_neyuki, RedRomRomance, Trixgrl, 13k, Mature. You meet all kinds of interesting people when you go to the park for lunch.
(We're Going) To Space by Andromedas_Void, 2k, General Audiences. “Yes?” Gerard asked, a soft smile on his (extremely cute) face, along with a dozen star, moon, and planet stickers. “Oh, ah,” Frank started, holding back a laugh. “Your, uh, the mail man delivered this to my house by mistake,” he said, biting his lip and holding out the package.
Songs For The Weak by Wearenotalright, 11k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. Frank is a history teacher at his old high school and he has a rather interesting new student. Bandit Way. She was tall and lanky and the other students shunned her for being the "weird kid". Frank has no other choice but to call her father in for a meeting to tell him the horrible news that his little girl is getting bullied.
In A Pretty How Town by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone, 23k, Explicit. Single dad Frank Iero moves with his son to a new town. Everyone is nice, but the mayor, Gerard Way, is positively too good to be true.
The Bench by phrankiero (orphan_account), 3k, General Audiences. Frank takes his son James to soccer practice every week. There he meets Gerard, the parent and single father of James's best friend.
I Know What It Means to Me by mistresscurvy, 9k, Explicit. Gerard didn't go to his single parents support group expecting to find love, but it found him there when Frank showed up one week. A single dads AU.
Crazy for You by sockpuppeteer, 2k, General Audiences. Frank's relief is almost palpable when there is someone home in apartment opposite, and, although mussed and a little bleary, he looks relatively friendly. And gorgeous, but Frank is definitely not focusing on that right now.
Online fantasies. by jessislame, 13k [WIP], Not Rated. It has been a long time since Gerard has reconnected with his family and friends due to being at college most of the time. So when he gets an invitation for coffee from an old friend he can't really refuse...can he?
The Secret Life of Bees by eudaimon, 12k [WIP], Explicit. Summer. Frank and his daughter have nothing left in New York, so they hit the road and end up in the tiny town of Orpheus Falls, NY. Frank meets Gerard at a farmer's market, selling artisan honey. They start to figure things out.
It Was All An Accident by MissPamelaD, PhantomSwelling, 59k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard and Frank had it all. A perfect friendship, perfect families with their wives. They're missing nothing. That is until both of their wives die in a tragic accident. They both feel at loss, not being totally able to function without their loves. But, when they decide to move together with their kids, their world changes again. Will it be for the better or for the worse?
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