the dragon will do for you

Bidding open

lettered — Tue, 26 Feb 2019 16:10:48 GMT

Bidding is open for the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. Basically, you bid on me to write a fic for you; the money goes to charity and the fic goes on AO3. If you take a look at my sign up, you’ll see me saying I’m not super good at writing to exact specifications, but if you have broad ideas or things you like, I would try really hard to make something you appreciate. I offered for three different fandoms--HP, MCU, and TWD, so if you want specific fandom fic from me, you should definitely bid!

My signup is here, and bidding ends March 1. You can contact me here with any questions.

eta: Apparently they don't actually open until 8pm EST today! So check it out tonight.

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Fandom Trumps Hate auction

lettered — Wed, 20 Feb 2019 00:48:13 GMT

I put myself up for the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. Basically, you bid on me to write a fic for you; the money goes to charity and the fic goes on AO3. If you take a look at my sign up, you’ll see me saying I’m not super good at writing to exact specifications, but if you have broad ideas or things you like, I would try really hard to make something you appreciate. I offered for three different fandoms--HP, MCU, and TWD, so if you want specific fandom fic from me, you should definitely bid!

My signup is here, and bidding starts Feb 26, so start thinking about whether you want to make a bid. Take a look at the other offerings as well! I’ll post a reminder when bidding starts. You can contact me here with any questions.

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Runaways Vol 1 Pride and Joy, by Brian K Vaughan

lettered — Mon, 11 Feb 2019 00:02:28 GMT

I’m a fan of Rainbow Rowell, and a friend of mine sent me the first two volumes of Marvel’s Runaways by her. I started reading them without knowing anything about Runaways, but I liked them well enough that now I’m starting at the beginning. Therefore, I read Vol 1 with some preconceptions, which made it very interesting.

Premise. A group of kids find out their parents are a supervillain organization when the kids witness their parents murder a girl. All the relevant issues are addressed:
- Lies. If my parents have lied about this all my life, what else have they been lying about?
- Loyalty. They’re my parents, so even if they’re bad, I don’t want to hurt them.
- Evil. How far will my parents go? Ie, would they kill me, even though I’m their kid?
- Identity. If our parents are evil, what does that make me—or you?
I was really happy when each of these issues came up, but overall, I don’t think any of them was dealt with nearly enough! Maybe they’ll be dealt with more in future issues, but I feel like the “evil” and “identity” concepts combine into an essential issue of trust/morality that I think should’ve been dealt with right away. That is, their parents are evil but also extremely powerful, what is to say that one or more of these kids wouldn’t decide to join them? Instead, they instantly all agree the murder they witnessed was wrong and furthermore that something should be done about it.

One of the last pages featured a note from one of the kids saying they were still loyal to their parents, but it was very much framed as “because I love you,” and not a little bit more morally interesting (to me) “maybe you have great reasons to be evil.” But if there is a mole among the runaways, I do assume that will be addressed. I think there was a mention or two in Rowell’s run that suggests to me that Alex Wilder is the mole, which seems so wrong, since I feel like he is the main instigator/leader who wants to see this evil addressed. But maybe we’ll get back story.

Setting. This was written in 2003 and seems to be set contemporaneously, which is neat because they’re teenagers who make pop culture references, and even though my pop culture was super shaky in 2003 I went into a pop culture vacuum for like, maybe all of 2005-2014, so really miss a lot of references then. I mean, I miss a lot of references now, but I actually feel like tumblr made me savvier, which is kinda sad.

How many Marvel comics are set in LA? It’s nice to have one elsewhere instead of everyone jam-packed into NYC. I liked the Hostel and Chase’s eagerness to go there.

Alex. I think he might’ve been my favorite! I love that he’s a gamer; there’s a suggestion he plays D&D. His relationship with his parents was the one I felt the most about, possibly because there was just a little bit more of it than the others. His dad saying, “I worked to build all this for you so now you gotta be what I want you to be” is something I identify with very deeply. I also felt like Alex was so earnest! Which would make me sad if he betrays them. I also just found his character design really compelling.

I didn’t really care about his relationship with Nico and wished it hadn’t jumped to kissing so fast, but I really DID like that he called her a nerd and loaned her The Prisoner, and she brought it back and told him her thoughts on it. Sharing media is always a beautiful start to a relationship, imo.

Gert. I think she might’ve been my second favorite. I liked her in what I’ve read of Rowell’s run but I didn’t really get her; I feel like this provided the necessary context/explanation of her archetype. She’s like, the cynical outcast obsessed with old films nerd who’s judgy about pop culture and politics; I identify with that type. The character design isn’t as cute as Kris Anka’s in the current run.

On the one hand, it makes sense that there’s someone who never did trust her parents, because some teens don’t. OTOH, her reason for not trusting them didn’t really do it for me. I guess part of my problem is that lots of kids have legit reasons to hate their parents, but the kids I happened to know in middle school and high school who hated their parents seemed to use it as a sort of social cachet, and something I had trouble believing that they actually felt. I witnessed not only how their parents treated them but also how they treated their parents, and I had trouble believing there was true hate there and not teenage rebellion that seemed cool.

Then again, the main girl I am remembering who felt this way I deemed probably wasn’t serious partly because her parents never hit her. Since my parents hit me all the time (spanking and slapping, not like . . . fists and belts and baseball bats) and I still loved them, I sorta thought she had to be faking it. Since that was the stick by which I judged these things I was obviously missing some pieces, so who knows.

Chase. Man, what a douche!!! This was particularly interesting in light of the Rowell comic, though, in which he is still a hot jock piece of beef but dresses semi-hipster in an outdoorsy Seattle kind of way. He has a man bun. And sometimes Rey hair. He is SUPER hot, y’all. And is also the most earnest, sweet-hearted, Tries His Best kinda guy I have ever read.

But that makes me kinda like his dudebro heritage? The suggestion is that either in this run, OR in the time between this run and Rowell’s, he learns and changes and grows into himself. And yup, I totally know the world has enough entitled hot white guys who later learn their lesson and/or become sympathetic, but. I am a sucker for someone who grows and changes. It means a lot to me, so I kinda love him.

Also, his dad beating him also provides some sympathy, though I have also seen enough of that story in the context of entitled hot white bullies that I don’t need to see more of it. That said, of them all, he kinda seems the most reluctant to turn against his parents? And at the same time, the most eager to show all the runaways his secret hideaway where he goes to be alone? Like, he secretly wants them to be a team. He really just wants a family to love him!!! Idk, there are some super interesting issues there that I hope get explored.
Nico. I really didn’t think there was as much of her character here as there were with the others. They’re definitely portraying her as goth, except Gert got all the cynical hate-the-worldness, so Nico mostly . . . paints her nails black? But I did really like the origin of how she got her staff, and I am very interested to have a bit more explanation of why she absorbed it and how it works.

There was one pretty nice Nico/Karolina moment, if I am remembering correctly, where Karolina agreed with Nico. No idea if there are ever gonna be Nico/Karolina hints in Vaughan’s run, but I love it in Rowell’s so it was nice.

Karolina. She’s set up to be very California Girl with her Hollywood parents, veganism, and assurances that her parents are Not Involved. I think her character evolution makes sense, because your whole world view is destroyed when you learn you’re secretly an alien (presumably, I mean, I don’t know this from personal experience). I want to see her dealing with that some more. I love how excited she was when she found out she could fly, and I love her rainbow light character design. I also loved how she punched her mother! I did not love how the art kept showing the bracelet that makes her not glow breaking, but then she was wearing it again.

Molly. I do find mutant power associated with puberty very interesting, but I didn’t quite like how it was handled here. Every time someone ALMOST said the word “period” or “menstruation” they trailed off or got cut off, which seemed a too-cute way to handle it. Honestly, the main thing I wonder about re: Molly is whether she DID get her period. There’s this subplot in the Rowell run where a 13yo friend of Molly’s, who is 13 forever, goes on about how it’s great being 13 forever because you don’t have to deal with a period. And I kept thinking, “Wow, wouldn’t it be nice not to get your period AT ELEVEN YEARS OLD.” So it was nice to see an 11yo dealing with it, even if she didn’t get it.

In other news, Rowell was right that Molly's parents’ fishnet masks are really weird.

So overall, I really liked it. I’m not as sold on the characters as I am in the Rowell run, but the premise is interesting, and there is the promise of more issues I’m interested in being addressed, so I am very eager to read more!

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Into the Spider-verse

lettered — Fri, 08 Feb 2019 00:15:51 GMT

I liked this movie so much I have difficulty distilling my feelings into points, but I want to, so here you go.

I really mean the art of the movie itself with this bullet, but I really appreciated the tagging. There were points being made about street art, art by people of color, and styles that subvert traditional/mainstream/critically accepted art, but nothing was hit over the head imo, and I loved that Miles’s art was actually paralleled by the movie. (Side-note, this was one of THREE movies I watched in a TWO-DAY period that referenced Banksy. The others were Aquaman and Ocean’s 8.)

This is what CGI should be. I don’t understand why CGI keeps going for realism when it’s not there yet, or why if it’s not realism it goes for the weirdly blocky Toy Story 3d style. Just do this.

I understand that sudden jolts with several frames overlaid made this movie difficult to watch for some, and I personally think it was overused. However, it worked on three major levels for me: a) it fit the theme of multiple universes and was a great visual cue to let us know when universe-crossovers were happening, 2) it used colors reminiscent of 3d, which I feel fit with the comics theme, 3) if you combine my points 1) and 2) as well as my point about CGI and tagging there is a theme I can’t quite even articulate about how the other universes in this movie are art universes, and laying them all on top of each other creates a multi-dimensional world in both senses of the word “dimension.” Like I am aware I am talking out of my ass here, but this movie blew my mind.

Love the homage to comics.

The dots!

Ang Lee’s Hulk was the first movie I ever saw that tried to panel scenes in a movie like a comic. There are some things you can do in comic panels that you just can’t in a movie: the simultaneity, but also the still-frame jump to another still-frame that suggests a sudden burst of movement. But imo Lee failed grossly, as has every other movie until this one. This one is perfect and the standard by which every other comics movie that wants to be a Comics Movie should work toward.

Pacing/Rhythm/Music

When I got out of this movie, my mom said, “That reminded me of listening to Hamilton!” This is because Hamilton is basically my mom’s only exposure to hip-hop and various art forms associated with hip-hop. Like I said above, I feel like this movie had a lot to say about art by people of color, and I think that was also present in the rhythm of the dialogue as well as the soundtrack, which featured hip-hop and hip-hop influences.

It’s an excellent soundtrack, btw (both songs and score).

I heard that the voice-actor for old!Pete actually did do a Christmas album.

I loved the Prowler theme so much I got a physical thrill every damn time I heard it. Possibly because paired with that character design idk, I think I got turned on. It does make me laugh a little, because I also loved Bucky’s theme in TWS, and it really is just a bunch of scratching/stabby sounds. I think this theme had a similar vibe but was even better.

What made the pacing especially unique were the parts where Miles’s life was being echoed by literal comic panels. This worked on three levels: 1) His spidey-senses causing him to hear/experience things created an extra layer of perception, which confused/disoriented him and the viewer. That would have been enough! Except also, 2) We’re dealing with multiple universes, and bringing in the comics to parallel/echo his disorientation reminds us that every spider-hero has had a similar orienting-to-spider-sense experience, 3) Meta. In each of these universes, the spider-hero is an actual super-hero who has a mythos created by the people of this universe. They have actual in-universe comic books of themselves.

On that note: meta. I just don’t think I can possibly even begin to explain how hard this hit my kinks. I mean, multiple universes with different versions is already meta. Then adding the layer that several of them, at least, are celebrities in their universes, which creates the potential for several versions of their own lives to exist in each universe, due to biographies/fan merchandise/celebrity gossip etc. Take all that, then treat this actual story you are telling as its own comic creating its own celebrity mythos (in a way), and damn, what is the equivalent of a trope orgasm; I just don’t know.

Side-note: I appreciated the shout-outs to the other Spiderman movies, too. I have never been a fan of the Maguire movies but this movie made me want to watch them just so I could get every single detail.

Omg the tag with Earth-67. I can’t.

Characters/Story – can I just say that all these other elements would have been enough, but this story is goddamn awesome?

Miles. I just loved him and his relationship to his dad and uncle so goddamn much. Everything else was good too, but his vulnerability with them really got to me. Voice actor was fantastic at making me feel for him. Also loved Miles’s relationship with Peter B and his black suit.

Miles’s dad. The relationship with the dad was particularly striking, because the dad was so openly loving from the beginning, while still managing to be somewhat repressive. Usually these stories are about Dad being repressed but really loving you, and in the climax/denouement Dad finally learns to state his feelings. Miles’s dad had no problem expressing his feeling, but he still had trouble connecting with and understanding his son—for really understandable reasons, btw, considering his brother! Like damn.

Miles’s uncle. This was a little bit more expected in terms of how it was handled, but combined with the dad story, it created a pitch-perfect family story that pulled at your heartstrings. And goddamn, I know everyone always talks about how fucking talented Mahershala Ali is, but he really, really is, and his voice was really fucking hot.

Peter B Parker. I am not a Peter Parker fan; he’s just the opposite of one I’m into—young! Glib! Dorky! I like em older, bitter, and broody, so it’s obvious why this Peter is the first one I have ever liked, and boy howdy did I like him. I mean, my favorite thing with older+bitter+broody is the fresh-eyed innocent youth who still has hope, which is why Wolverine+the young-girls-he-has-to-protect-for-some-reason are always fun. It’s just my thing, okay? I would read endless, endless fic about him mentoring Miles. I am embarrassed by how hot I found Peter B. Also, I’ve never seen his voice actor in anything, but I cannot get over how into him I was.

Other spider-heroes. I don’t know anything about other spider-heroes, so I went in without opinions. I wanted to care about Gwen but didn’t particularly, though her hair was super hot. I loved Noir Spiderman for the hilarity (and again, art universe). Spider-Ham was predictably too silly for me. Peni was interesting, and I enjoyed the anime/manga shout-outs.

Villains. I have never cared about Doc Ock; I was even a huge fan of Alfred Molina and Spider-Man 2 did nothing for me, but oh man was I in love with this one. She was perfect in every way. I usually don’t even care about villains who don’t get redemption arcs; I’m just not really into gleeful, cackling evil, but I would read tons of fic in which she gets super invested in dissecting people. She had a sort of Entrapta from She-ra vibe, and I also loved Entrapta, so there you go. Meanwhile Kingpin was Kingpin, less interesting than Daredevil S3, but he held the plot down well enough, and the character design was delightfully silly, as Kingpin so often is. I think I just enjoy Kingpin as a villain generally, so he doesn’t even have to be that interesting for me to be on board.

Tl;dr: best Spiderman movie. Among the best of any superhero movies. Might be the best movie I’ve seen in years, idk. One of the best animated movies I’ve ever seen.

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Recognizing things

lettered — Thu, 07 Feb 2019 04:58:48 GMT

What defines an object for you? And is there a word for the traits you define it by, which might be different than the traits other people use?

My mom says my purse is just like my old purse. I think they are completely different, because of the shape, strap, and hardware. She doesn’t think the shape and strap are that different. I realized the things that matter to me about the shape and strap are different, thus making it feel like a completely different object. The reason it matters has to do with how I use the purse, but I feel this isn’t an issue of me comparing function while she’s comparing form—I’m sure she’s considering function too, but because she uses it differently, she doesn’t see the same things I do (and I don’t see the things she does).

This made me think about casting in movies, when a child and a blood-parent have to be cast, or a young-version and an old-version have to be cast. You can usually see which features were selected by the casting director to “carry” over into the descendent/parent or younger/older!versions—but it’s not always what you personally think makes someone look like them.

For my work I had to do some research on how the brain recognizes objects. When you encounter an object, you notice various aspects—it’s shape, color, size, texture, etc. When you encounter like objects (called the same thing) several more times, your brain creates a category that links these things. When you see a new object and enough criteria are met, you recognize the object—therefore, you can look at a car you have never seen before and recognize it is a car. But if you encountered a banana that was blue and a pyramid shape, you would probably not recognize it as a banana, even if it tasted, felt, and smelled the same.

Think about this enough, and you’re back at Plato’s forms, in which there is a form that is Cat. You define cats as furry animals with four legs and pointy ears, but a hairless cat is still a cat, and a 3-legged cat is still a cat, and in fact a hairless, legless, earless cat is still a cat. They have in common their catness, because they reflect some essential Cat form.

And after thinking about that you arrive at the Ship of Thesus, in which a famous ship sits in a museum, but over time pieces of it rot or break and are therefore replace. Over centuries every single part of the ship is replaced; is it still the Ship of Thesus?

Tl;dr, my mom and I are never going to agree about this purse.

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Freelance editing

lettered — Tue, 05 Feb 2019 22:02:37 GMT

First of all, apologies to those of you who follow me on various platforms, since I am basically putting this everywhere. I just finished writing my novel (yay!), and while I work on editing and eventually querying some agents, I'm hoping to do some freelance editing work. This makes me an independent contractor (right?), and I'm confused about some of the legal aspects. Does anyone who feels like they understand tax-speak want to talk to me about it for a bit? I've found a bunch of relevant legal info for my state and city, but it'd be nice to talk to someone about some of the terms/issues.

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the typical fic

lettered — Sun, 16 Dec 2018 02:23:36 GMT

There is a Typical Fic in the 2K - 8K range, and approximately 1/3 of this Typical Fic is the Advertised Porn. Sometimes it's closer to 40%, sometimes closer to 25%, but 30% is the most common ratio.

The remaining fic is usually something like 50-69% Getting There, 1-10% Sex is Next, with 1-10% Aftermath. "Getting There" most typically includes groundwork for the trope (we are best friends realizing our feelings; we're enemies but we're in prison together; aliens are going to make us do it! etc). Groundwork for the trope can be laid by talking about the trope (which was set into motion pre-fic, e.g. the enemies start in prison) or plot to make the trope happen (e.g. the enemies team up against a Bigger Enemy and get caught and thrown in prison).

"Sex Is Next" refers to the denouement of "Getting There." The best friends confess they love each other, the enemies get bored and one mentions there's nothing to do but The Do, the aliens who are making them do said do are herding them toward the arena. In other words, the plot is either resolved or stops; the other characters go away; there is a moment of They're Going To Do It before they, you know, Do It.

The Advertised Porn is whatever kink or tropes are referenced in the title, tags, and/or summary (usually all three).

Aftermath length can vary wildly depending on whether Getting There involved Plot (the enemies have to get out of prison) or Talking About It. The aftermath for the latter is usually How They Feel about each other, usually with a little nod to how they Got There ("Why did it take us so long?" "See you next time you're in prison!" "Let us never speak of that planet again.")

I don't have any particular value judgments about the Typical Fic as I've laid it out. I have come across examples both terrible and amazing. I was just wondering if you have thoughts about it, including but not limited to: how did we arrive at these ratios, is this a pwp, what are your thoughts on yaoi

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Away Childish Things fanart

lettered — Wed, 12 Dec 2018 19:30:17 GMT

Just wanted to share this amazing fanart for my fic, Away Childish Things. The fanart is of de-aged!Harry and adult!Draco, who is reading to Harry, and they are surrounded by a swirl of magic. The way they are surrounded by beautiful color is exactly how I imagined that scene, and the wonder in tiny!Harry's eyes is ADORABLE; I love it.

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Fandom migration stuff

lettered — Wed, 05 Dec 2018 03:28:58 GMT

This post by greywash is the best post I've seen that discusses a lot of the ideas going around about fandom spaces, ideal fandom spaces, etc. In particular, I found the part about an ideal fannish platform addressed all the needs I'm seeing people discussed elsewhere, while the part about problems they foresee with such a space seemed more thoughtful and better articulated than most. Highlights include:

Mention of a "whisper space," which is (imo) a neat term for how people used tags on tumblr as a way to comment on something and have conversations without that part being reblogged. In discussions about reblogs on DW and elsewhere some of the discussion is centered around things you might not want to get reblogged, or tags you might want for you but not for universal purposes, and the complications in coding that causes.

Discussion of the OTW, how useful it would be for them to be involved and the difficulties in that. They point out that the OTW has done a whole lot to secure a legal standing for fanfic, which is great. But when you are talking a social network platform you are talking images, and images open up a much bigger can of worms. It would be nice to work with the OTW, but it remains unclear whether there are really enough resources to commit to that when they are already working on something else (namely, defense of fanfic).

Discussion of actual child porn, which frustratingly gets left out of a lot of these conversations. Basically, any time you make it easy and free to host lots of images, lots of people want to host images there, including pornographers. If you want to allow the fandom content we want but prevent actual exploitation of children, then you've got to have a way to monitor and sort, which requires time and resources.

Anyway, check it out, it's good.

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don't mind me

lettered — Mon, 12 Nov 2018 07:25:49 GMT

Just posting Harry/Draco smut.

warnings: dirty talk, stuff with come, naked people

*

“Harry. Yes.” Draco kissed him again.

Draco kissed him again, but this time he put his tongue in Harry’s mouth and Harry didn’t have to chase it. He didn’t have to do anything, though he wanted to, because Draco held him pinned against the wall, Draco’s tongue hot and insistent in Harry’s mouth. Harry tried to kiss him back; he tried, but Draco made him feel like he was incompetent at kissing, like he might as well put his head against the wall and be devoured because it was the best thing that ever happened to him, and Harry thought it might be. It really might be.

Harry concentrated on his hands instead—getting to touch Draco’s strong, lean back, his narrow waist, lean hips, his arse—

“Harry.” Draco ripped his lips away, panting heavily. His brow pressed into Harry’s, mouth still close enough for Harry to taste Draco’s breath.

Harry brushed his hand over Draco’s arse again and Draco made a soft, needy little sound, hot lips catching against Harry’s again in an almost clumsy way, as though Draco couldn’t help himself. When Harry stroked him again, Draco shivered, trembling against him. “Harry,” Draco whispered into his mouth. “Harry.”

Harry’s hands moved to Draco’s hips, moving a little closer to line them up with his own. “Do you want to?” he asked. He’d leaned in to Draco’s ear to whisper, but Draco’s pale skin was there, the elegant line of his neck under his jaw. Harry put his mouth there, beneath Draco’s ear, and Draco made another sound. “Can I?” Harry asked, his hands moving to the fastening of Draco’s trousers.

Draco sucked in a breath. “Not here.”

Harry straightened, taking his hands from Draco’s trousers.

Draco’s grey eyes were big, his mouth red from kissing. “I want . . .” His hands were on Harry’s dressing gown. Then his lips were again on Harry’s, closing on Harry’s bottom lip, sucking, warm and soft and so fucking sweet as he opened the dressing gown, pushing it off Harry’s shoulders. Draco spoke between kisses, pulling off the dressing gown as Harry helped. “Can we—I want to—I want—Harry.” Draco kissed him, then spoke in a rush. “I want to shag in your bed. Please?”

“Draco.” Harry kissed him, then placed his lips on Draco’s ear. “I’ll make love to you anywhere you goddamn please.”

Draco shuddered, and Harry wrapped his arms around him, Apparating him upstairs.

In Harry’s room, he let Draco go, then pulled out his wand to Banish Draco’s waistcoat. He was going to do it with Draco’s shirt as well, but Draco’s fingers wrapped around Harry’s wand, and Harry paused. “Can I—I want.” Draco licked his lips. “Take it off me the Muggle way.”

Harry tossed his wand aside. His hands immediately went to the buttons on Draco’s dress shirt.

“It’s hotter,” Draco said, lips catching on Harry’s as Harry concentrated on the buttons. “You have to go slower.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Fuck. Yeah.” Then he pushed Draco back until the backs of Draco’s legs were against the bed. Harry gave him a little push, and getting the picture, Draco got on the bed, shirt still half undone.

“I didn’t make the bed,” Harry said, getting on it. “I didn’t know you would—sorry.”

“Harry.” Draco’s voice was softly chiding as he reached for him. “I’ve dreamed of doing this with you in your bed for more than half my life. Do you think I care if it’s made?” Then Draco was kissing him again—one of those deep, clever kisses that made Harry feel like he wasn’t getting enough, like he was gasping along the surface when all he wanted to do was drown.

“Fuck,” Harry said, pulling away. His voice was ragged. “I like you. I like you so much.”

“I’m glad you figured it out,” Draco said, arching a little under his gaze.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered, making himself go back to Draco’s buttons. He had to get his shirt open. He had to see him, because Draco was so beautiful and Harry wanted to touch him; he wanted to touch him all over.

Draco’s hands were in his hair, drawing him back for teasing little kisses, petting him gently then scratching nails across Harry’s scalp so that he could feel it; he could really feel it. “Fuck,” Harry said again, and Draco murmured, “Shh. I’m here. I’m here for you, Harry. Undress me.”

Draco arched at his own words under Harry’s hands, and Harry heard himself say, “Oh fuck.” He wanted to touch the skin underneath; he wanted him, but he wanted to get all the buttons, to get to touch it all at once, see it all at once—Draco’s chest, his beautiful body, all of that skin. Draco’s skin. Draco’s skin under his hands, Draco arching under Harry’s touch, Draco’s chest against his—

“There’s no need to hurry, Harry.” Draco’s hand lazily stroked Harry’s hair. “You can undress me slowly.”

Harry didn’t even know whether Draco was teasing him; he didn’t care. He got the final button open and at last, at last, he could open Draco’s shirt, look at him, his chest—his scars.

The world stopped for a moment.

“They’re nothing.” Draco surged up, warm hand on Harry’s face, hot mouth covering Harry’s own, gentle and wet. “They’re nothing, Harry.” Draco kissed Harry’s cheek, his jaw, the spot beneath his ear. “Don’t look at them.” Then his mouth was back on Harry’s, teeth lightly closing on Harry’s lower lip and tugging.

Draco was trying to distract him.

“Draco.” Harry put his hands on Draco’s shoulders, pulling him away, pushing him back on the bed. “Draco.” Harry moved down the bed, opening Draco’s shirt again. He put his mouth on one of the scars.

“Oh,” Draco said, lurching under him.

Harry put his hands on Draco’s hips. “Hold still.”

“Fuck,” Draco said, as Harry’s mouth followed the long thin line of a scar.

Harry put his tongue out to taste it, and Draco squirmed again under him.

“Fuck,” Draco said again. “Harry, fuck.” Then his hands were in Harry’s hair, pulling, tugging. “Fuck,” Draco said, squirming under him. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Harry put his chin on Draco’s sternum, looking up at him. “I thought they were nothing.”

“Don’t be a git,” Draco said, yanking on his hair. “What am I talking about? You were born a git.” Then Draco sat up—fuck, his abdominal muscles—then hauled Harry up, pushing him down, twisting until Draco was on top and Harry was under him.

Harry lay there for a moment a little bit stunned, because people didn’t do that to him—drag him around and climb on top of him. He was the Chosen One; his magic was powerful. He was over six feet tall and his shoulders had got broad; they couldn’t. But Draco was lithe and wiry and strong and here he was manhandling Harry, climbing on top of him and having his way with him, and Harry couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to be fucked this badly. Maybe he never had.

Swallowing, Harry touched Draco’s shirt, sort of thinking how hot it would be to have Draco completely shirtless on top of him, but unable to get it off of him. Harry was too turned on. As if reading Harry’s thoughts, Draco pulled his wand from his sleeve, Banished his shirt, then tossed the wand aside.

“I thought you didn’t want to use magic,” Harry said.

“We did the sexy part.” Draco leaned in and kissed him again, and after a moment Harry realized that from this position he could touch Draco easily.

He could touch Draco’s thighs—Draco’s lean, hard long thighs—so Harry did it, settling his hands on Draco’s trousers and stroking up to Draco’s arse, then again. Harry tried to remember the last time someone had straddled him like this; he couldn’t. He tried to remember the last time someone’s thighs had made him feel this way—Ginny. He wanted to do things to them. He wanted to fuck them.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, his arse against Harry’s dick, his lips at Harry’s throat, Harry’s hands on Draco’s thighs. Harry kind of wanted to come, just from this. “Harry,” Draco said again, then slid down Harry’s body, tugging up Harry’s t-shirt.

Draco’s clever hands skated over Harry’s abdominal muscles, the scars there from Auror work, and then Draco’s mouth was there and he was talking again. Harry heard the words “darling” and “my beautiful boy” and shuddered. Fuck. Fuck, he really did want to come. He wanted to flip Draco over and rut on top of him until he was done, and he wanted this to never end. He wanted Draco’s feather-light touches and warm lips to stroke him until he died. He could die like this, with Draco saying those things.

Draco pushed Harry’s shirt farther up, revealing his chest. Sucking in a breath, Draco just looked at it for a moment—Harry’s lightly muscled chest, the dusting of black hair. “What’s this, then?” Draco asked, his finger gently tracing the scar from the locket.

“Voldemort.”

Draco looked at him quickly, then back at the scar. “He didn’t hurt you enough? He had to go and do this as well?”

“He wasn’t a very moderate guy.”

Leaning down, Draco put his lips on it, mouth tracing the edges of the scar. Then his tongue was there, tracing the same path his lips had taken, and his hands were pushing Harry’s shirt up into his armpits. When his tongue was done with the scar, Draco picked up his wand again, Banishing Harry’s shirt. He leaned down to kiss Harry again. “What do you like?”

Draco was still sitting astride him, his mouth hovering by the corner of Harry’s lips. Harry shifted under him. “You.”

Draco’s soft laugh puffed hot air against Harry’s face; Harry’s cheek could feel Draco’s mouth curve into a smile. “Yes, Harry. What do you want me to do?”

“Anything.” Harry shifted under him again. He wasn’t even sure whether he was trying to get Draco’s arse off his cock or bring it closer. “You can do anything you want to me.”

“Harry,” Draco said, then stopped. Then he was kissing Harry in that way he had that made Harry want to arch for more, that made him feel like he had to chase Draco’s lips to get enough, and then it still wasn’t enough. He wanted more, and Draco pulled away, lips moving to Harry’s ear. “I’ll do you scientifically,” he whispered. “I’ll do everything to you, one little bit at a time, and I’ll find out what you like. Would you like that Harry?” Draco’s teeth closed over Harry’s ear lobe, then gave a sharp little tug.

“Yes,” Harry gasped. “Yes, I’d—I’d like it.”

“Has anyone ever done that for you, Harry?” Draco’s voice was so low and soft, words whispered like a secret in Harry’s ear. “Studied you? Made a project of you? Taken you apart piece by piece so they know how your body works, every detail of you, every little breath you take?” Draco bit him again, almost too sharply.

Harry heard himself make a sound.

“Have they?” Draco whispered, his breath moving hair by Harry’s ear. His tongue touched the place he’d bitten.

“No,” Harry gasped out. “No. Draco.”

“Darling.” Draco’s lips moved back to Harry’s, so warm and soft and pliant that it didn’t even feel like the same mouth.

“I like that,” Harry breathed, when Draco pulled back for air. “What you—what you said.”

“I’m going to make a project of you?” Draco kissed him again.

“No. Yes. I meant—the other thing. You called me—” Harry broke off, swallowing.

Draco’s eyes widened, soft surprise colouring his features, but then it was tucked away swiftly. “Of course,” he said, leaning in to kiss Harry’s again. “Of course, you like it. You’ve never been anyone else’s darling before, only mine. You’re only mine. I’m going to make you feel so good. You’re going to feel so good, Harry.”

Then Draco was sliding off of him, and Harry wanted to protest, only Draco’s hands were going for the button on Harry’s jeans. Harry let him, and Draco got it undone, moving next to the zipper. And then they were both lying there, Draco’s body curved against Harry’s, and they were both just watching it—Draco’s hand slowly drawing down the zipper. Their shallow breathing made harsh sounds in the room, the only other sound that zipper. They couldn’t take their eyes off of Draco’s hand drawing it down. They watched its slow descent, the metal teeth parting, Draco’s pale hand guiding it with the metal tag.

Finally it was down. “Harry,” Draco breathed. Then he reached inside, and Harry could feel the brush of Draco’s fingers—his beautiful fingers, brushing over Harry’s cock through the material of his briefs. Harry jerked a little against his hand. “Harry,” Draco said again, like a prayer. “Sweetheart.”

Harry jerked again, made a sound. Draco must have known Harry would, because Draco used it like a distraction, hooking his finger under the waistband of the briefs and pulling them down, freeing Harry’s erection.

Draco made a little noise then, muted and soft, presumably at the sight of Harry’s cock.

Harry was aching, his cock hard enough to hurt, leaking at the tip, and he was with Draco—Draco with his teasing little smiles and his insanely good looks, Draco who was so fiercely protective and so hopelessly loving, who was so smart, so clever, who hadn’t been able to stop fucking boys even though he’d tried, who’d had a Muggle boyfriend named Rohit.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this?” Draco whispered.

“Please,” Harry said. “Please.” He felt like all of him was straining for Draco’s touch—for Draco to do something, anything, say his name again.

“Yes,” Draco breathed. His hand came up and they both watched it, holding their breaths now as the both of them watched Draco’s long fingers almost hesitantly approach Harry’s cock. When the fingers were close enough to touch, Draco only used his thumb, a brush against the wet tip, and Harry wanted to complain but for the fact that Draco made a sound, a soft little broken needy sound, just from touching it.

Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this, he’d said, and when Harry shifted a bit to see the look on Draco’s face he saw that Draco’s eyes were full of wonder. He looked as though he could barely believe it was happening, like it was magical, unreal, his hand on Harry’s cock—the back of one finger stroking along the side now, Draco’s breath hitching as he did it, his eyes glued to it.

“Fuck.” Harry had to close his eyes at the expression on Draco’s face. Fuck. It was too much. It was too much. “Touch me,” he heard himself beg, his voice ragged. “Draco.”

“Yes,” Draco said again, his fingers slowly circling Harry’s cock. “Yes. Harry, yes,” and his fingers were a fist around it, slowly dragging up.

Harry’s eyes came open to watch it; he had to see it, Draco’s hand on his cock, Draco slowly jacking him—so slowly. Agonizingly slow. “Fuck.” Swallowing, Harry had to close his eyes again. His voice was strangled when he said, “Don’t tease me.”

The hand paused, then started stroking again, even slower, thumb swirling the liquid at the tip ever so slowly. “I think you like it,” Draco said, partially curling over Harry so Draco’s lips were closer. “I think you like it when I tease you. Don’t you, Harry.” His warm breath caressed Harry’s face, his soft voice making Harry’s toes curl. “You don’t have enough people to tease you,” Draco went on. “Everybody wants to give you what you want, but they don’t know you like I know you. I know you, Harry. You need someone to be gentle with you. You need someone to go slow with you, show you how precious you are. Harry.” Fingers dragged slowly up Harry’s cock.

“Draco.” Harry’s breath was guttering.

“Shh,” Draco murmured, his lips on Harry’s now. “I know what you need. I’ll be everything you need; I’ll be so good for you.”

Then Draco was kissing him, and Harry finally found the strength to bring his hands up, pull Draco’s head away, ripping away the kiss. “You already are good,” Harry told him, pushing him off.

Harry rolled over, putting himself over Draco now, Draco on the bed beneath him, eyes wide with surprise, cheeks pink. Pulling Draco’s hand away from his dick, Harry pinned it on the bed. “What else did you imagine?”

Draco bit his lip, still seeming surprised he was in this position.

“What did you imagine when you imagined you were in my bed with me?” Harry kissed Draco in his clumsy way—hard and probably too forcefully; he didn’t care.

“Oh,” Draco said.

“Tell me,” Harry said, kissing him again.

“Well, I—” Draco stopped, swallowed. His gaze swept down. “I probably just imagined you’d—you’d pin me down and have your Auror way with me.”

“You wanted me to fuck you?”

Draco’s breath caught. “Yes.”

“Did you ever imagine fucking me?”

Draco’s breath caught again, this time with a little noise at the back of his throat. “I—yes,” he said, breathlessly. “Yes. Harry.”

“Tell me something else you imagined.”

“I,” Draco began, but he stopped, his eyes still wide. He trembled a little.

“Tell me something,” Harry said again. “I’ll give it to you.”

Draco swallowed hard. “I,” he said, then hesitated again. “I imagined you’d call me—you would call me Draco.”

“You already have that.” Harry kissed him again. “Tell me something you haven’t got yet, so I can give it to you.”

Draco swallowed again.

When he didn’t say anything, Harry loosened up a little. He’d been pressing Draco down into the bed. “It’s not meant to be a test, Draco.”

Draco blurted, “There’s so much I want, I can’t—” He cut himself off as abruptly as he’d started.

“Choose something,” Harry said.

“Finish undressing me.”

“Like that,” Harry said, hands going to the fastening of Draco’s trousers. “That was good.” Draco’s hips gave a little jerk, Harry guessed because he was getting Draco’s trousers off. They were old-fashioned, buttons all the way down. Harry was beginning to hate buttons, particularly without his glasses, except that Draco was strangely still under Harry’s hands, as though he was afraid that if he moved, Harry would stop. Harry sort of wanted to tell Draco that nothing other than the word, “Stop,” would stop him right now, but he didn’t. Instead Harry worked on getting the final button, and then Draco’s trousers were open, and Harry tugged on them a bit to slide them farther down Draco’s hips. Then Harry’s hand was on Draco’s underwear, pulling it down, freeing Draco’s cock.

“Oh, fuck.” Draco threw his arm over his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear to watch.

Meanwhile, Harry couldn’t take his eyes away. He’d dreamed of Draco often since that incident with the siren tongue powder. He’d dreamed of Draco kissing him, touching him, even fucking him—and yet with all of that, he hadn’t thought too much about Draco’s cock, not explicitly. He hadn’t pictured what it would look like; he’d just pictured Draco using it on him, making Harry come, using his clever mouth, his clever hands.

But now Draco’s cock was in Harry’s hand and it was still somehow unexpected—its length. Harry hadn’t expected it to be long. He hadn’t expected that thatch of curls at the base, how much darker it was than Draco’s blond head. How red the cock was against Draco’s otherwise pale skin, how smooth, the curve to it, everything—the way Harry’s mouth watered as he looked at it. He wanted to taste it; he wanted to fill himself up with it; he wanted to touch it more than he was already touching it; he wanted to wank it.

He wanted to wank it even more than he even wanted to have his own cock be wanked. The urge to make Draco feel good was so strong that Harry hardly realized he could put the drool in his mouth to good use before he was taking his hand off Draco’s cock.

Draco took his arm away from his eyes in time to see Harry spit on his own hand then bring it back down. “Oh my fuck,” Draco breathed, when Harry’s hand wrapped around it again. As if unable to help it, he arched into Harry’s hand. “Merlin. Fuck. Fuck.”

Harry’s fist moved up and down Draco’s shaft. He wanted to kiss Draco while doing it, feel that warm soft reassurance of Draco’s lips, his clever tongue, but when Harry leaned down Draco’s mouth was already open, connecting with Harry’s inside a little moan. Harry swirled his thumb around the tip of Draco’s cock to spread the wetness around, and Draco moaned again, arching, his tongue swiping between Harry’s lips to lick Harry’s tongue and then slipping back out again, so that Harry was swallowing Draco’s little cry.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered, pressing up against Draco’s side. Harry’s own cock brushed up against Draco’s hip. “Goddamn,” Harry said.

“Harry.” Draco jerked under Harry’s hand. “Slow down.” Then Draco’s hand was there, his fingernails digging hard into the back of Harry’s hand, the one still wrapped around Draco’s cock. “Slow down,” Draco repeated, arching under him. “I can’t—I need—” Then his hand was guiding Harry’s, sliding it down, moving Harry’s fingers to wrap tightly around the base—too tightly. Draco gasped. “Hold it like that.”

“All right,” Harry said, even though it seemed kind of early for Draco to have to stop himself from coming.

“I can’t,” Draco began again. “I get—sometimes—usually I can control it.” His voice came rapidly all of the sudden. “I’m not a teenager; I know how to pace myself, but sometimes I’m—I get—it’s because it’s you.” The words were almost tumbling over each other in Draco’s rushed explanation. “It’s you, and I’ve wanted you so long, and I’m just—I can’t—but it won’t be like this all the time. I promise I’m not like this all the time.”

“I’ll go as slow as you want me to,” Harry said, keeping his voice slow just for good measure. Then he put his lips by Draco’s ear. “But if you want to come fast that just means I’ll get to make you come more. Over and over.”

“Oh.” Draco’s hips jerked, and his hand shot down to cover Harry’s, still wrapped around his dick. “Hold it tight, Harry,” he whispered.

Harry’s hand squeezed. He bit Draco’s ear, like Draco had done to him. “Do you want me to get you a cock ring?”

“Oh my days,” Draco breathed. “Do you have one here? In your bedroom?”

“No. I don’t—I never really used them.” Harry tried nibbling along the shell of Draco’s ear. “But I bet I can enchant something for you.”

“No.” Draco tugged a bit on Harry’s hand. “It’s fine now. I’m fine. I was just . . . I got a little . . . worked up.”

Harry moved behind Draco’s ear now, along his hairline, down below his ear and against his throat. “I like it when you’re worked up,” he murmured. Hand looser now around Draco’s dick, Harry stroked it slowly—an agonizing speed he would never have wanted for himself.

Draco sucked in a breath. “I—you talking. Like that. That was—it was something else I imagined.”

For a moment, Harry couldn’t even remember what he’d said. He’d thought he’d just agreed with Draco, but then he realized what it was. I grow quite weak for praise, Draco had said, just a few days ago. He’d been two years younger, then. “Do you want me to praise you, Draco?” Harry said, his lips moving against Draco’s neck.

Draco’s breath caught again, and Harry didn’t know what to say. He’d never really done this before, but he thought that he could manage.

“Do you want me to tell you how hot you are? How much I want you?”

“Yes,” Draco said breathlessly. “Yes.”

“You’re so hot,” Harry said immediately. “Sometimes all I have to do is think of you and my dick gets hard.”

“Harry.” Draco breath was almost a whine, his body moving restlessly.

“You get me so hard Draco.” Harry pushed against him, his dick sliding along Draco’s hips again. “You feel that? How hard you get me? I want you so much. I like you so much. Draco.” Harry kissed him again, but it was like Draco could barely register it, like he couldn’t even close his mouth, his jaw hanging as he gasped for air.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Harry said again. “You’re beautiful, Draco; I want you; I love doing this to you. I love touching you. Do you want me to talk about that, how good your dick feels in my hand?”

Draco shuddered violently, making this horrified little noise. His eyes filling with something almost like panic, he bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and looked away, flinging his hand down between his legs to squeeze his dick at the base so he couldn’t come. Fuck. Draco wanted to come just from that; Harry could feel it in the tremor that had gone through Draco’s body. Harry could see it, the violent flush coursing over Draco’s naked chest.

“You like me talking about your dick,” Harry breathed into his ear, and Draco made that horrified little noise again. His eyes were squinched shut tightly, his face turned away from Harry’s at an almost desperate angle. “Let me hold it,” Harry said, keeping his voice soft in Draco’s ear as he covered Draco’s hand with his own. “I promise I won’t let you come.”

Draco took a deep gasping breath. Then another one. On the third one, he finally let go, letting Harry’s hand squeeze his cock instead.

Harry waited, hand holding Draco’s cock while Draco took long, steady breaths. Close up against him like this, Harry could smell him—some product Draco used in his hair that smelled clean, a trace of lemon, layered under the heavier scent of sweat and the mounting smell of sex. Harry could hear Draco’s heartbeat, and Harry thought he’d never done anything so intimate, holding Draco’s dick for him while Draco calmed himself so he wouldn’t come too fast.

“Can I touch you now?” Harry whispered.

“I think—” Draco gulped, took another breath. His head jerked in another nod, but he still wouldn’t look at Harry. His cheeks were still pink, and he must be so embarrassed. Harry wanted to tell him how much he loved it, how good this felt, but he couldn’t think how, then Draco went on. “Yes, you can—you can.”

Harry took his hand away. If he went as slow and took as long as Draco seemed to want, Draco was going to end up chafed. “Accio lube,” Harry said, throwing his other hand out to catch the tube.

Harry rubbed his hands together to get the lube warm, make sure he had enough. Then he set the lube aside, spelled his left hand clean and wrapped his right around Draco’s cock again. Draco arched into Harry’s touch.

“Do you want to know how good it feels in my hand?” Harry said, stroking it.

“Harry,” Draco said, arching hotly under him.

“So good.” Harry kissed him. “It’s so good; you have such a good cock, Draco.”

“Yes. Please—yes.”

“I’m imagining it inside me,” Harry whispered. “I’m imagining how deep you’ll get, how amazing it’s going to feel to have this beautiful dick in me, fucking me, filling me with your hot come—”

“Harry.” Draco writhed.

“You like that, the though of your dick in me, fucking me, your gorgeous dick; I want to suck it.”

“Please,” Draco gasped. “Please—”

“Yeah, get my lips around it, get in in my mouth, this gorgeous dick.” Harry kissed him again. “I want to feel it in my throat. I want to have no choice but to swallow all that hot come. I want it; I want to be close to you; I want all of you; I love you.”

“Harry!” Draco’s hand shot down, squeezing the base of his own dick, stopping himself from coming.

“Let me,” Harry said, moving his wet hand up to circle the base of Draco’s cock. After a moment, Draco’s hand loosened, and Harry circled his fingers around it tightly, squeezing. He put his lips by Draco’s ear again. “I’m happy to hold your cock for you while I tell you how fucking beautiful it is.”

“Oh!” Draco jerked, his spine coming almost entirely off the bed but for his head.

“Shh,” Harry said, hand still tight around Draco’s cock. “Shh. You’re so responsive, Draco. It’s so fucking hot.”

“It’s you,” Draco panted, turning his red face toward Harry. His blond hair stood out against his deep flush; sweat was beginning at his temples. “It’s because it’s you; I’m not normally . . .”

“I like it,” Harry said. He didn’t even want to kiss Draco at this point; he just wanted to be close. His nose was behind Draco’s ear, and Harry pressed inward, as though he could burrow farther against Draco’s neck. “I like it so much. Draco, you have no idea how much I want to make you come for me.”

Draco shuddered. “Not yet. I didn’t want to—yet.”

“Yes.” Harry tried scraping his teeth a bit along Draco’s throat. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want me to.”

“Quit saying that,” Draco said, still seeming like he was vying for control even though Harry’s fingers were still tight around his dick. “You’re making it worse.”

Harry held him for a minute, smelling Draco’s hair again, his sweat, listening to his heartbeat. Opening his mouth, Harry set his teeth on the curve of Draco’s shoulder.

Draco shuddered in a response. “This is stupid.”

Harry took his teeth away.

“It’s not what I meant to do.” Tugging Harry’s hand away, Draco put a bit of distance between them, then rolled over, facing Harry finally, putting his hand flat over the scar at the center of Harry’s chest. “I was going to make you feel good,” Draco went on. “I wanted to make you feel so good.”

“You were making me feel good,” Harry said.

“By having to hold my dick every other second because I want to come from your touch, just like a teenager?” Draco was facing him, but he still wouldn’t lift his eyes. His body was still flushed pink.

Harry looked down at him, and he loved this too. He didn’t know why. Something about seeing Draco this mortified made him feel like he was falling in love all over again. “I think I’ve made it clear how much I like holding your dick,” Harry said finally.

Even though Draco was already pink, he still flushed again. His body was radiating heat like a furnace; Harry was beginning to sweat even though he hadn’t done anything. “It’s just—not what I had in mind,” Draco said, sounding so unhappy. “I don’t even like the word dick.”

Harry couldn’t help his smile. “You prefer the word cock?”

Draco nodded miserably, his face still half hidden in the pillow.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Stay there.” Pressing down on Harry’s chest, Draco used it to leverage himself into a sitting position. Then he got off the bed, picked up his wand. Standing up, he pointed it at himself, made his trousers, underpants, shoes, and socks disappear. Then he cast something else on himself that made him look suddenly somehow pristine—the splotches of pink and red under his skin all gone, the sweat disappeared. Harry’s heart tightened, because he missed it, but the view as Draco walked across the room was not bad. Draco was a really beautiful person, and Harry couldn’t even tell whether he thought so because Draco really was just that good-looking, or because Harry wanted him so badly.

Draco went to Harry’s chest of drawers, rifling around on the top of it, taking something off of it. Then Draco turned, frowning, his hand going down to his dick and—fiddling with it. He was—he’d taken one of Harry’s hair bands, Harry’s saw, swallowing hard. Draco was putting one of Harry’s hairbands around the base of his dick, then tightening it with his wand.

Harry’s mouth was dry. He wanted to say something, anything, but he felt paralyzed with desire.

“All right, Harry,” Draco said, coming back to the bed, sliding in beside him. “I’m ready now.”

Harry’s voice was strangled; he couldn’t get enough air. “You’re so fucking hot,” he managed to say.

“Yes.” Draco’s teeth found the corner of Harry’s jaw. “I was supposed to be.” His warm hand slid around Harry’s dick.

“Well,” Harry said, struggling for air. “You succeeded.”

“Good.” Draco’s voice was low and hot, a vibration against Harry’s throat, his hand slowly stroking up Harry’s cock, then back down.

Draco kept stroking it, and everything about it was wrong. It was too gentle, too slow, not enough; ordinarily Harry would have been bored by it, except that it was Draco. It was Draco and he kept kissing Harry, those teasing kisses, but every few moments it was as if he could not help himself—he’d look down at his own hand on Harry’s cock, as if he couldn’t believe it was still there. The look of wonder would fill his features, only to be tucked away as swiftly as it had struck him.

Harry looked at it as well—Draco’s white hand on Harry’s red cock, the black hair at the base. It was a striking picture, but not quite striking enough for Harry to be as awed by it as Draco was, especially since Draco’s hand was so gentle and slow. “Draco,” Harry said, because Draco had been staring at it a while.

Draco glanced up hastily, momentary guilt painting his features. “Harry,” he said, kissing Harry in a rush, as if he knew he was meant to be kissing him and had forgot for a moment.

“Can you . . .” Harry shifted under him, seeking a different touch—anything, and Draco immediately changed the angle of his hand, scraping his fingernail along the length of Harry’s cock.

Harry hissed in a breath.

“Oh,” Draco said breathlessly. “You like that. What about this?” His hand went lower to tug on Harry’s bollocks—rather sharply.

Harry shuddered in surprise.

“Yes,” Draco breathed against Harry’s lips. “You like it.” His fingernails scraped over the soft skin of Harry’s bollocks, and—as if unable to resist—Draco looked down to watch, seeming to hold his breath as he watched himself tug and scrape and play with Harry’s balls.

“Draco,” Harry said again, his voice strained.

“Yes, Harry.” Draco let go of Harry’s bollocks immediately, warm hand once more wrapping around Harry’s cock, but the fingernail was back, scraping directly over his slit.

Harry heard himself cry out, his hips twitching on the bed.

“Yes,” Draco said again. “Yes, Harry. I know what you like now. I know what you want.”

I want you, Harry wanted to protest, but Draco’s mouth was covering his, warm and inviting while Draco’s hand did things to his cock, things no one had ever done before because it was a cock. It wasn’t a plaything to be poked and tested and explored. Everyone who’d got their hands on it before knew what to do with it, how to make it feel good, how to get it off, except for maybe Ginny in the beginning, but they’d learned quickly and together. Draco didn’t seem at all interested in that. Instead he was interested in torture, touching it softly and warmly with firm strokes—the way it should be touched—then suddenly changing, scraping his nail along it, tugging it too roughly.

“Accio lube,” Draco said, taking his hand off for a moment.

“Oh God.” Harry gulped, relieved Draco had let him go because he was overwhelmed; it was overwhelming; no one had ever done this to him before. He didn’t even know whether he liked it, except that he did—he did like it; the way Draco was touching him made him want more and more and more of him, the way his kisses did, the way everything about Draco made him want more.

“Harry,” Draco said, low and eager and affectionate in Harry’s ear, and then his hand was wrapping around Harry’s cock again, this time slick with lube.

“I need more,” Harry heard himself say, his voice cracking.

Draco’s slick warm hand slid up Harry’s cock. “Of course you do, darling,” Draco murmured. Just that made Harry arch; he wanted to come, and he wondered whether this was what Draco had felt, why he had to have that cock ring—every little thing was too much. “I know what you need. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Harry slid his hand down Draco’s naked back, over his arse. He guessed if Draco was just going to keep teasing, he could tease back. Maybe it would incite Draco to more. Harry’s fingers stroked Draco’s arse—it was such a good arse, that round curve of muscle. Harry’s fingers skated across it to Draco’s crack, touching it lightly, then pressing in, between the glut muscles—not even finding Draco’s hole, just resting his fingers in that hidden place.

Draco had been kissing him, but now he came up for air, his hand faltering a little on Harry’s cock.

“How long are you going to tease me?” Harry asked, teeth nipping the part of Draco that was closest, which was his chin.

“I . . .” Draco arched into Harry’s hand, his face pink and surprised. “Forever, Harry,” he said in that breathless, excited voice. “I’m going to tease you until you break.”

“You’re getting close.” Harry bit his chin again.

“Harry.” Draco kissed him—not a teasing kiss; it was a kiss that felt like Draco needed it. “Harry,” he said again, sounding almost desperate. “You’re perfect.”

Harry squeezed Daco’s arse. “You said I wasn’t.”

“I meant for me,” Draco said, his hand moving on Harry’s cock, not so methodically now. “You’re perfect for me. You’re mine. You were made for me.”

No one had ever said anything like that to Harry before, perhaps because it was a nonsensical thing to say. Harry had been made for a goddamn prophecy, or because his parents loved each other, or some kind of accident; Harry didn’t know, maybe all three. He certainly hadn’t been made for this breathless, excitable person above him, most of whose life had been one huge fucking mistake after another, this goddamn mess of a man who never seemed able to express himself in a semi-normal way.

Harry wished he’d been made for him. He wanted to be nothing other than this moment, this moment in which he was loved and adored with this warm person on top of him who liked him well enough to say such a thing. Squeezing Draco’s arse again, Harry said hoarsely, “Say it again.”

“You were made for me,” Draco said breathlessly, kissing him. “You’re mine. You’re mine. You belong to me. You’re perfect for me, Harry; you were meant for me. You’re meant for me.” Each of these things was said between kisses—not Draco’s teasing kisses; these were kisses dropped all over Harry’s face. They seemed to unlike Draco, messy and unplanned, as though Draco couldn’t help himself, and Harry couldn’t stand it.

He felt as though his insides were too big to contain the things he felt; he couldn’t bear this any longer. Pushing Draco off of him, Harry held him down, got on top. “I need to fuck you,” Harry said, hating how his voice sounded rough when he’d meant to say I love you. “I need to fuck you right now.”

“Yes,” Draco said, arching under him. “Yes, do it, Harry. Use me.”

“Christ.” Harry’s cock was out and he was ready; he was so ready, but at those words he held himself over Draco and let his head drop down, brow pressing against Draco’s. “Christ,” Harry said again. “I don’t want to use you, Draco. I want to make love to you.”

Draco took a big deep shuddering breath. His swallow made an audible gulp. “Yes,” Draco said, after a moment. “Yes, all right. You can—you can do that.”

Draco was scared, Harry realized. All that teasing and playing, all of that about knowing exactly what to do—he was scared, and Harry didn’t know what to do about it. “Put your arms around me,” Harry told him.

“Yes.” Draco immediately complied.

Lifting himself up, Harry moved above Draco so that his cock slid along Draco’s milky white hip bone—again, and again.

“You don’t want to . . .” Draco’s breath caught. “Inside me?”

“I want to every way possible,” Harry said. “We have time.”

Draco’s breath stuttered again. “Oh.”

Harry moved so that his dick could slide against Draco’s, still hard and angry red with Harry’s hairband around its base. At the first stinging touch of them together, Draco jerked wildly; then he pushed at Harry’s shoulders.

“Can you,” he said. “I need to—” Draco didn’t finish, but with the way he was twisting his head, Harry knew what Draco needed; he wanted to see. He wanted to look at their cocks together, touching, the way he’d been unable to take his eyes off of his hand on Harry’s cock for more than a few seconds.

Harry rolled to the side a bit, trying to give Draco an angle to see their cocks touching.

Draco looked down at them, Harry’s thick dark cock against Draco’s. Draco’s eyes were huge, his hand moving in their direction almost as though unconsciously, as though helplessly drawn to them.

“Yeah,” Harry heard himself say, almost as helplessly. His mouth was filling with saliva, and he was looking down at their cocks almost as avidly as Draco, at Draco’s hand beginning to touch them. “Yeah, Draco, come on, get us—get us off together, touch me, fuck. Please touch me.”

“Harry,” Draco breathed, wrapping his hand around them both.

Draco’s hand was warm and still slick with lubrication, and Harry could feel it close around him, pressing Draco’s hot cock against his own, the line of Draco’s body warm against him too. “More,” Harry heard himself gasp. “Please, more, touch me—I need you to touch me; please don’t tease me.”

“Yes,” Draco said, stroking them together, squeezing. “Harry.”

Harry was getting closer, but that meant Draco was that much more likely to pull back again, to tease him again. “Don’t tease me, please. Please.”

“Harry,” Draco breathed.

“Please,” Harry begged. “Touch me. Touch me."

“Harry. Harry.” Then he was pushing Harry away with his other hand—doing it again, teasing him, and Harry just wanted to be close together; he wanted them to be close—Harry didn’t know what he said, but Draco said, “Shh. Harry. Let me get on top of you. I promise I won’t stop touching you; I promise. I’ll touch you forever.”

Harry at last lay back where Draco was pushing, and Draco did it—he got on top, but his hand was still between them, still holding them together, and Draco was right. This was better, Draco warm and solid on top of him, more of them touching, and Harry got to put his arms around all that bare skin again. “Darling,” Draco said, then kissed him. This kiss was warm and wet, full and not teasing at all, slow, Draco’s tongue inside, like Draco had just opened up completely for it, and Harry heard himself moan.

“It’s okay,” Draco said. “I’m here; you’re mine. You’ll always be mine, Harry; I’ll always touch you; I’ll touch you all the time, because you’re mine. You belong to me.”

“Yes.” Harry panted. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

“Shh,” Draco said again. “I won’t stop touching you, Harry. I’m going to—just for a moment, darling; it will be good for you; I’ll make it so good for you; I won’t stop touching you—” But then he did stop, taking his hand away from between them to use his wand for something.

“Draco,” Harry said, shifting under him, Draco sitting up on him a bit to have the leverage to use his wand.

“Sweetheart, just a second; let me—” Draco cast a spell that removed Harry’s jeans and underwear, then another that lubricated both Draco’s hands. Tossing his wand aside, he lay down on top of Harry, all of his weight on Harry, his chin pressed against Harry’s shoulder and then—then Draco was lifting his hips so both hands could get between them—both hands warm and slick, one wrapping around their cocks again, but the other slipping down to hold Harry’s balls, squeezing gently, then tugging.

“Oh,” Harry said, jerking under him. It was a lot of touching, both of Draco’s hands on him, his upper body strewn against Harry’s chest, extra weight pressing down to hold himself up so his hands could get between them. “Fuck.” Harry arched.

Draco turned his head so that the weight of it rested on the side of his face, his hands still moving warmly on their cocks, Harry’s balls. “I wish I had another hand,” Draco said, “so I could touch you more.”

Harry jerked under him. “Please,” he begged. “Please.”

“I love you,” Draco breathed. “I love touching you. You’re mine. You’re mine.”

Harry could feel himself getting close now, those two warm wet hands working him, the friction of Draco’s cock against his own, Draco’s body against his, his breath. “Yes,” Harry breathed. “Yours, yes, yes—Draco—”

“Sweetheart.” Draco adjusted the weight of his upper body so that he could kiss him. “My darling.” He kissed him again. “My beloved.” Again. “My precious boy.” Again. “My sweet, beautiful boy, mine, I’ll take care of you; I’ll take care of you.”

“Fuck.” Harry arched again.

“Go on, sweetheart,” Draco said, his hands moving harder. “Come for me while I touch you, while I take care of you; I’m never going to stop; I love you; I love you.”

“Draco,” Harry said, then thrashed wildly and came, hips pumping erratically under Draco, coming out in spurts between them—into Draco’s hand at first, between them, but then on Draco’s belly, his chest. Draco arched, just as though he wanted it all over him, and Harry groaned, unable to watch. Draco was too gorgeous to watch.

“Good boy,” Draco said, and Harry shuddered.

“Oh, God.”

“Good,” Draco said again. “So good, so beautiful, my good boy, my precious baby, yes, yes, so good for me—” Draco was dropping kisses on him as he babbled—helpless kisses, everywhere, all over Harry’s face, just like he couldn’t control it—again—

But his hands weren’t on them any more; his upper body wasn’t on him, and Draco was rubbing Harry’s come on his own body, and the kisses were almost like—a distraction, as if Harry wouldn’t see that Draco was doing it. Pushing Draco off of him, Harry got Draco down on the mattress again, Draco blinking at him in startlement. “I’m going to lick it off you,” Harry said, then proceeded to do it.

“Oh, my days,” Draco said, throwing his head back.

“Let me take the hairband off,” Harry said, licking Draco’s chest, his stomach, his own come all over Draco. “I want to watch you come.”

“Harry.” Draco buried one of his hands in Harry’s hair as Harry licked off more of the come.

Harry moved up so his eyes could meet Draco’s, Harry’s hand settling around Draco’s cock, the hairband tight at the base. “Let me take it off.”

Eye wide, Draco swallowed. “Give me another minute.”

“Why?” Harry leaned closer, until his mouth was just over Draco’s. “Do you want me to suck it?”

“Oh, Harry.” Draco jerked into his hand.

“What if I put my mouth on it right now?” Harry said, then licked Draco’s lips. “What if I put it in my mouth, took the hairband off, and you just—came inside? Right inside my mouth.”

“Harry, please,” Draco said, jerking again.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, moving over him a bit, kissing his jaw, his temple, his brow. “We’ll fuck again. I’ll make love to you again. I promise.”

“Harry.” Draco gulped. “It’s the first time; I wanted to—I wanted it to be—”

“You wanted to please me. Didn’t you?” Harry rubbed his soft cock against Draco’s hip. “Please me again, Draco. Let me undo it. Let me watch you come.”

“Yes.” Draco’s hips moved up a bit, this time on purpose. “Yes, yes, I want to please you. I want—”

“Then let me take it off you.”

“Harry,” Draco said, twisting against him. He stared into Harry’s eyes, lips parted, breathing hard. “I love you. I love you, Harry.”

“I know, Draco.” With a wandless, wordless spell, Harry undid the hair tie.

“Oh,” Draco said, hips jerking, but he didn’t come.

Then Harry touched him at the tip and it happened almost instantly, as if by command, Draco’s eyes going wide and almost pained, then squinching shut tightly, his hips bucking as the come came out rather more wildly than Harry had expected, load after load. Draco punctuated each spurt of it with a tight little, “ah;” going, “ah, ah, ah,” as he came, almost as though each release of it pained him, and Harry realized why it was so, so odd. He’d seen Draco in so many ways, but he’d never seen him at this age, like this, so completely lost for control, so completely open. When Harry considered that maybe this was why Draco hadn’t wanted to come, Harry wrapped his arms around him and held him tight through the last shuddering pulses of it, another “ah” filling Harry’s ear, then a softer, final groan.

“Good,” Harry said, remembering what Draco had said to him. He rubbed Draco’s back. “Good, you looked so beautiful. You’re so beautiful. I love you.”

“Harry.” Draco shuddered in his arms.

“Let me lick you.”

“Heavens.” Draco shuddered again.

Harry licked the come off of him, but he couldn’t find much of it—Draco had done it everywhere; it could be on the walls, the ceiling, with the way Draco had shot off, and Draco kept carding his hands through Harry’s hair saying, “Harry. Harry.” At last Draco tugged and Harry went, Draco manhandling him again, arranging him into a position—Harry on his side, Draco behind him curled against him, Draco’s leg over both of Harry’s, tugging them against Draco’s other leg possessively, Draco’s arm over Harry’s waist, hand on Harry’s chest. No one had ever spooned Harry like this before; he was fairly large. He’d always done it the other way; it had just seemed natural.

“Is this all right, Harry?” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear. “Is this enough touching?”

Harry’s breath caught. “Yes. It—yes.”

“I have more.” Draco bit Harry’s ear. “I have so many more ways to touch you. Do you like that, darling?”

Harry’s breath guttered. “Yes.”

“I’ll hold you—all the time. I’ll spoil you. I’ll tie you up. What do you think of that, Harry?”

“I—don’t know.”

Draco’s nose pushed under Harry’s ear, Draco’s breath hot on Harry’s throat. “Has no one ever done that to you before?”

“No.”

“I’ll do it,” Draco breathed. “I think you need it. I think you get too distracted—you want to touch, when I think maybe you should just take a moment to lie back and be touched, let me do things to you. What do you think, Harry? Would you like that?”

“I—as long as—as you were touching me.” Harry took a breath. “As long as you didn’t leave me there.”

“Oh, no. Darling. Darling.” Draco’s lips pressed against Harry’s skin. “I’m never going to leave you. I’ll never stop touching you. Baby. Precious.” Draco kissed him again, and again. “I love you. I love you.”

“Then I think . . .” Harry swallowed hard. “I think anything would be okay.”

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lettered — Mon, 19 Jan 2015 01:11:02 GMT

I'm low and sick and depressed and I've failed at everything else, so I started posting fanfic. Here you go:

Sincerely, Your Pal

It's Steve/Bucky epistolary fic. It's a work in progress with extremely short chapters as they're delineated by the letters. I've written about 13,000 words, which will probably split to a little over 20 chapters, but there will probably be 30-40 chapters at least. I can't decide whether the second part, which is current day Steve/Bucky emailing, is the same fic or a sequel, so that's a whole other kettle of fish. I guess I didn't want to have to decide so I just posted.

Anyway epistolary fiction is like crack to me, but I can't tell if I just gravitate towards things that are difficult and obscure. Oh well!

I'm sorry to everybody I haven't replied to lately. I will; I'm just slow at everything.

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Thank you!

lettered — Sat, 10 Jan 2015 23:48:36 GMT

I wrote a Harry/Draco fic for hd_erised. The mods were nice and everyone who responded was nice, and it was nice writing for my requester and my gift was extra nice! So thanks, everyone.

I wanted to thank icmezzo. She beta'ed my 120,000 words of fic in about four days. And probably she only took that long because I sent it to her in pieces out of order, not all at once. But that's not even what makes me so particularly grateful. It's the fact that like a day before my absolutely final extension due date, I freaked out and she held my hand and encouraged me and went over the entire piece again with a beautiful, beautiful highlighter of excess wordage. Those who know me know that I have a terrible problem with excessive verbosity and it was wonderful to have someone help me. I actually ended up fairly happy with the fic which tends to be rare with my H/D fic. So yay!

In other news, hi!

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apparently i just wrote gotham fic...

lettered — Wed, 01 Oct 2014 07:31:17 GMT

Title: They Grew Up Young
Fandom: Gotham (TV)
Rating: PG-13
Length: around 5,000 words
Characters: Bruce Wayne and Gordon, a little Alfred, Cat on the periphery
Warnings/additional tags: this is gen, but there are sexual overtones that involve an underaged person. There is nothing explicit, and I assume you could read it and not see any of that, but I put it there purposely, so there you go.
Summary: Snapshots of Jim Gordon and Bruce Wayne as they get older. Bruce fucks up a lot and Gordon wonders what the hell to do about it.

Link: They Grew Up Young

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Days of Future Past

lettered — Mon, 25 Aug 2014 02:42:31 GMT

I actually really enjoyed X-men: Days of Future Past, which is interesting to me because I really disliked First Class. But it should be stated for the record that Erik/Charles was basically my first ever slash pairing, maybe after Emerson/Thoreau RPS and Sirius/Remus. But in spoilery news:

The one thing I wish was different in Days of Future Past is the scene where young!Charles goes into Logan's mind and talks to old!Charles. This was such a missed opportunity. For one thing, old!Charles's speech is cliche and non-specific, and Stewart's delivery is surprisingly rushed and lacking in emotional weight.

For another thing, though, get Erik in there. Get Erik all up in there. Either make old!Charles reach out for old!Erik's mind to show young!Charles what is possible, or at least make old!Charles think at young!Charles about who Erik has become.

I mean, this is a movie whose whole theory and climax hinges on belief in other people, faith in the compassion of man, hope in our ability to understand and forgive each other, our ability to embrace our differences instead of lashing out in fear. Thank you, Powers That Be, for giving us a movie whose heroes succeed because they choose peace instead of violence, because they choose not to fight, because they decide war isn't the answer, and that it is better to believe in the possibility of peace and human dignity, compassion and understanding than it is to act out of fear. I feel like so much media just wants to tell us that such beliefs are all hopeless, innocent and ignorant idealism, that you can't rely on them, and this movie turned that on its head. Thanks, movie, good on you!

But if you want us to believe it give us an example; give young!Charles an example. And I could see how you could think that the fact that old!Erik is working with old!Charles isn't such an example; old!Erik is proof that young!Erik was right; old!Erik is only working with old!Charles because young!Erik was right. But it doesn't have to be read that way--old!Erik doesn't have to be that way. If humanity can grow and change, learn to understand each other, learn compassion, then Erik can do it too.

Make old!Erik tell young!Charles that he's changed. That he believes there can be peace, that he believes young!Charles was right all along; have old!Erik tell young!Charles that it's partly because of Magneto that their future is post-apocalyptic. When old!Charles tells young!Charles that people occasionally lose their path, don't be talking about Charles--be speaking of Erik, whose path was lost for so so long, who rejected human compassion in favor of war, and only too late in life realized that love could have been the answer.

Just, I'm not asking for this just because I ship it and it would basically be the hottest thing mine eyes have ever seen. Even if you don't ship it, Charles loves Erik, in whatever way you want to see it, and some part of Erik loves Charles. If only young!Charles got to see that love, got to see that one day Erik could face that love and embrace that love and believe, with all his being, that that love is the answer--then young!Charles could really believe in a new future, and believe that any amount of effort and striving and sacrifice is worth it.

And then Charles would always know it; he'd always see it in Erik even when Erik was fighting them and at his worst; Charles would always know that in the end, Erik can learn to accept humanity, and if Erik can do that, then humanity can accept them. And Erik would look back at Charles and know that Charles sees something in him that isn't there, can't be there, because it isn't there yet, and Erik would try to convince Charles that it can never be there; he can never be that person. But Charles will know. He'll know that one day Erik will take his hand, and that will make everything worth it.

I just. I want that.

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Twitter again

lettered — Thu, 21 Aug 2014 05:21:36 GMT

So I'm a lying liar who lies. I found myself not able to talk about porn on my personal Twitter, so I made a fandom Twitter account. If you want fannish stuff and you followed my personal account, you can unfollow the personal one and follow ilettered, and I'll follow you back. Sorry, I thought I could make all my lives one but it just proved too difficult.

<3

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fic

lettered — Wed, 20 Aug 2014 05:23:00 GMT

I've had this sitting on my computer for months. I realized I was never going to finish it and that it works as a stand alone, so I posted it: Five Times Steve Rogers Almost Got Beat Up, about the first five times Steve and Bucky met.

I wish there was somewhere I could post all my unfinished fic where I wouldn't feel like I was being, idk, rude for posting unfinished fic. People get so het up about reading unfinished fic and I don't want people to feel like they got short-changed. I just want to get it off my chest. Idk maybe I could post it here, since fewer people read fic on journaling sites these days.

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Outdoor Star Trek

lettered — Sat, 19 Jul 2014 07:09:59 GMT

Hello Earth Productions is proud to announce its fourth episode, "Mirror, Mirror," in its Outdoor Trek performance series. Performances will be Saturdays at 7pm and Sundays at 2pm in Dr. Blanche Lavizzo Park’s amphitheater (in the Central District, Seattle) on the weekends of July 19-20, July 26-27, and August 2-3. The classic episode has the crew of the Enterprise transporting to a mirror universe in which their counterparts are brutal and savage. The show is free and open to the public.

Outdoor Trek is a community project which celebrates the diversity of the original series, while at the same time adapting it to the 21st century, outdoor theater, and community. The inspiration is half sci-fi, half Shakespeare. Shakespeare in the park is a well-loved tradition, offering free theater, a social gathering in the sunshine, and a familiar, classic story. Hello Earth presents a new classic, just as beloved, only this time in outer space.

Hello Earth Productions produced the Star Trek episode “The Naked Time” in 2010, “This Side of Paradise” in 2011, and "The Devil In The Dark," in 2013. The company happily accepts donations during the performances, but there is no charge. It is recommended for spectators to bring cushions, as the amphitheater seating is concrete. You can learn more at www.helloearthproductions.org or on Twitter at @hello_earth.

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email hack

lettered — Mon, 28 Apr 2014 04:58:31 GMT

I don't know what to do. People keep getting spam emails from me. I changed my password, which didn't help. Advice?

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best vid ever*

lettered — Thu, 17 Apr 2014 06:25:10 GMT

Hey so did you guys ever notice that in the Captain America vid The War Was In Color, on the line, "let's start at the end", on the word "start" it shows them stamping 4F on Steve's form and then on the word "end" it shows 1A

and the 1A is the A on Stark Tower?

Yeah I never noticed that either.

*okay after the Doctor Who No Handlebars but srsly guys. This vid.

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Okay, Captain America, but Peggy.

lettered — Tue, 15 Apr 2014 06:05:46 GMT

No seriously guys, Peggy.

I really loved Cap 2! Some day I will write my thoughts on it. But tonight my_daroga and I were wanting more Avengers-related things, so we finally watched some of the extras on IM3. I didn't know there was a short. About Peggy. A short about Peggy.

I wanted to like Peggy. And I did! I thought she was cool. But basically before this short there just wasn't quite enough for me to be interested in. I mean, I like that she was tough and I liked that she liked Steve, but that was basically all I got from Cap 1? And then Cap 2 spoilers spoilers spoilers. But anyway, I wanted to like her, but mostly felt kind of indifferent.

Now, however, I am in love with Peggy Carter, and

-I just want Peggy and Howard starting SHIELD. I want them to recruit awesome and amazing people, and yet none of these awesome and amazing people are quite as awesome and amazing as themselves. So sometimes these awesome and amazing people are doing their awesome amazing jobs, but just not quite . . . good enough fast enough unf enough and Peggy and Howard just sort of swoop in and take care of all the shit, all of it. And the best thing about that is Peggy's the one on the ground kicking faces and Howard's just in a room somewhere like pressing buttons, because she's totally the brawn (in a brainy way) and he's the brains (but in a mechanized!brawn way).

And they are so so so quick and clever and they sparkle; when you put Peggy and Howard in a room no one can understand what they're saying because they don't even bother to finish each other's sentences. They build and build and build on top of each other; their ideas are so far ahead of what anyone else's are that they just make no sense. And they're just so blindingly competent that they're kind of hard to be around.

And everyone just assumes they're a couple but they aren't at all. They have absolutely zero interest. And when Howard first meets Maria, Peggy just sort of rolls her eyes, because she thinks Maria is shy and demur and afraid of her, and will be jealous of her. And then Maria's just super sassy and becomes bff with Peggy, except no one will ever be bff with Peggy the way Howard is bff with Peggy, and no one will ever be bff with Howard the way Peggy is with Howard. And Howard and Maria get married and have baby Tony and Howard starts cooing and Peggy flaps her hands at him because she doesn't know what to do with babies.

Guys, this is like Sherlock/John/Mary, except, you know, cool.

-Okay, so the other thing I want even more is the AU where the super soldier serum does not last and Steve slowly shrinks back to his regular size and strength and constitution before the end of Cap 1, so taking out Red Skull becomes this combined effort of Peggy and Howard and the rest of the Commandos and the army and Steve.

And then Peggy and Steve get married, and Peggy and Howard start SHIELD. And Steve can do code breaking and data analysis and is really good at planning missions and also keeping everything respectable, and he finds out about HYDRA and HYDRA never becomes a part of SHIELD--but he really sucks at field work. So . . . he just can't do that. And meanwhile Peggy is just this total badass; she goes and does all these missions with Howard and takes down all the bad guys and comes back dirty and sweaty and bruised, sometimes with broken limbs.

And of course Steve worries about her, but he supports her fully and helps her all the ways he can. And sometimes he still rushes into action because he still thinks he can, but slowly Peggy convinces him that this does a lot more harm than good, because then she's trying to protect him as well as complete the mission, and he reluctantly agrees to stay out of it. He helps her as much as he can, but in the end, it's Peggy and Howard who are able to run and operate SHIELD.

What I really want is just like, a tiny Steve who is desperately in love with Peggy, desperately desperately, who supports her with love and paperwork and bravely staying home, because that's what he can do, and a Peggy who is desperately, desperately in love with him back. She's over half a foot taller than him in heels, and it's awkward when they dance and should be awkward when he holds her and yet is never ever awkward when they make love, because they love each other so much, and she still thinks he is the perfect man. The absolute perfect man, and the hottest and the sexiest one; and she loves his stupidly thin chest and his stupidly big hands and girly wrists, and she hates how often he gets sick, but loves that he never complains.

Sometimes Steve doesn't really get what she likes about him, but he's really glad that she does.

And she knows that he still sometimes wishes he was Captain America, and he doesn't quite understand that he is still Captain America to her.

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FIC: Fall of the Veils, fandom: Harry/Draco

lettered — Mon, 07 Apr 2014 01:23:57 GMT

Okay so I wrote this fic. It was really hard, because it was more plotty than most things I write. I'm pretty happy with the result, but I kind of wonder whether it was off-putting to some. Lots of people hate my summaries, so I tried a different kind of summary with this one. I feel like it just made the story look boring, so I have now changed it to a summary that makes me want to click on the fic, instead of trying to write the summary I thought other people wanted. I never really know what to do with summaries, so I figure I should have just tried to make myself happy!

Anyway, this story was stressful but I'm really happy with it, and thanks to kedavranox for her original story and icmezzo for all her help!

Author/Artist: lettered
Title: The Fall of the Veils
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warnings/Content: Draco is asexual. Harry has a noncanonical power. A lot of minor character deaths occur in the backstory. There are OCs.
Summary: Muggles find out about wizards. This makes Harry feel bad. Draco doesn't love Harry back. This makes Harry feel sad. Then there's conspiracy and intrigue and working together and Legilimency and murder and adventure and suspicion and magical things, and all of this makes Harry feel mad. So this fic is about Harry feeling all the feelings, and then everyone else feels feelings too. Even Draco. (Remix of “Ellhorn,” by kedavranox.)
Word Count: ~62,000
Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. An important part of this story is based on “Ellhorn,” by kedavranox. In some ways this story is also a remix of Mercedes Lackey’s novel, Arrow’s Flight.
Author's notes: kedavranox, I don’t think this is what you meant by a remix of what happens before your fic! But as I thought about your wonderful story “Ellhorn” more and more, I focused on the line about Harry’s mind and who his captors were. The story spun out (of control!) from there, managing to pull together several ideas I’d always wanted to write. I’m sorry that the background for your short story turned into such a long piece, but thank you for letting me imagine a world behind your fic.

An impossible amount of gratitude to icmezzo for listening to my idea, encouraging me, and beta’ing. And inspiring a scene and giving me ideas! I’m really glad I met you. I can’t even begin to describe what all your help means to me.

The Fall of the Veils

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Cap 2

lettered — Fri, 04 Apr 2014 08:52:48 GMT

I can't even deal with this movie. Seriously I can't even. I can nothing. I have no can.

Please tell me all your thoughts. Spoilers in the comments (hopefully!). Please come talk to meeeeeeeeeeeeee.

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The Winter Soldier.

lettered — Fri, 21 Mar 2014 04:50:15 GMT

Guys so I have this problem. I'm super excited about The Winter Soldier. And the problem is that my hopes are so high by my expectations are quite low. I really just want Steve and Natasha to be forever-bros; is it too much to ask; I guess it is, but it's all I want. And he tries to be all nice to her but she just looks at him a lot and tightens her mouth and doesn't say anything. And he guesses it's because she's Russian or something but he does stuff like invite her out for coffee and the thing is she says yes. He tries to make conversation but she doesn't say much, but she does drink all of her coffee, and kind of licks the rim a bit. And then he just wants to feed her and give her warm places to sleep, but he knew if he said that to her she'd look at him like he was crazy and he guesses he's just old-fashioned. And then the coffee shop is attacked and she knocks over the table to get behind it as a shield, but then when she sees her opening she steps on the edge of the table and then onto Steve's back because he's already bending over so she can use him as a stepping stool to jump on these guys and she tackles them. And when Steve and Natasha are done Steve gives her a hand up and then he says, "You have some . . ." and points at the corner of his mouth and she wipes the blood away with the back of her hand.

And then Steve pays for the coffee.

That's really all I want; is it too much to ask?

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My mom is the coolest!

lettered — Mon, 17 Mar 2014 22:44:21 GMT

A while ago I decided we should do something with our bar. Like maybe mod podge it with a bunch of comics. And then my_daroga said that it should be the Avengers room. So we decided the dining tables should have four different chairs, and that each chair should represent an Avenger. Then my_daroga pointed out we have two bar stools who could be Hawkeye and Black Widow. Then I pointed out that the dining table should obviously have the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. This story might only be based on a true story. It could be that all the things I said I thought up were thought up by my_daroga and all the things I said my_daroga thought up were thought up by me. Who actually knows at this point.

So we went to Good Will and bought four distinct chairs that we felt represented Avengers. They needed some work, which we thought would be a fun, cool project. Periodically we looked at them and talked about what we should do with them. And then we'd look at them some more and talk about it some more. Every once in a while my_daroga would say, "So . . . when do you wanna work on those chairs?" And I'd say, ". . . Some other time."

Meet my mom, the craziest mom on the planet. Guys, my mom is a famous artist whose ceramics show at a bunch of fancy galliers and the Houston Intercontinental Airport and win thousands of dollars all the time and stuff. But the thing about my mom is that everything she makes could win awards. She's a fabulous painter, cook, seamstress, carpenter, handyman, and . . . everything. I mean, she'll do things like decide the island in the kitchen needs a new top. So she'll make the tiles. Then she'll tile it. Then she'll soak the wood to bend it around the rim and affix the wood and finish the wood. She'll take about three days, but only because it took three days with the wood tied to the dock to get it bendy enough. So anyway she's kind of nuts.

Mom gets here for her 10 day visit (she lives in Houston so I only see her a couple times a year) and says, "Well, this Avenger chair project is going nowhere fast. Let's see if I can help." So she helps my_daroga and I with the Avengers chairs. We're still not done with the table, bar, and stools, but we did do this:

If you notice the Captain America papasan in the background, that was made by i_id. The other side is Iron Man's arc reactor. IT'S AMAZING. I know the coolest people.

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Support live fan theater!

lettered — Sun, 16 Mar 2014 19:03:44 GMT

I am the co-creator, co-producer, and director for Hello Earth, a theater company which has produced Outdoor Trek three years running. Outdoor Trek is a live theatrical adaptation of an Original Series episode of Star Trek performed in Seattle's Blanche Lavizzo Park, and auditions for the episode "Mirror, Mirror" are tonight and Tuesday. Please help me by spreading the word to anyone in the Seattle area who likes Star Trek, theater, or having fun. Even if you aren't in Seattle, if you have friends on Facebook or other social media outlets, you can help by spreading the word. Below is further information if you want to get involved in this fan-run project:

Auditions tonight (Sunday, March 16, 2014) and Tuesday (March 18, 2014) from 6:00pm to 9:00pm, at Theatre Puget Sound, in the Armory/Center House on the 4th floor in Seattle Center, Studio C (Sunday, March 16th) and Studio I (Tuesday, March 18th).

Needed: Actors to fill all roles (except Kirk, Spock and McCoy), which will be cast without regard to the gender or race (or ability, size, age, etc) of the original series characters. We are not looking for impersonation. We are looking for creative people who want to be part of the process both on and off stage.

Auditions will consist of cold readings. Please be prepared to stay for the entire time; we may not need you for that long but we will be holding callbacks after hearing everyone.

Performances will take place at the end of July and beginning of August outside at Blanche Lavizzo Park.

Kirk and Spock

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