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Fandom:Slings and Arrows, Wilby Wonderful
Rating:Themes related to canon.
Warnings:Darren and Uniform Kink
Sexual tourism. Darren leaned against the ferry rail. He'd allowed himself a week this trip, that was the most clothes suitable to the purpose that he had. Geoffrey might not believe him, not that Geoffrey's belief or disbelief meant much lately.
He supposed that Geoffrey was getting better--maybe staying in Toronto for so long hadn't been a good idea. Oliver and Ellen had gotten their hooks in deep, and Darren wasn't sure which was worse, or if it was the combination that was so dangerous. Supposed they might find out, since Ellen lived and Oliver did not.
Toronto had resulted in some interesting theater. Darren attended Sans Argent productions when he could, incognito naturally. They worked different aspects, and the mass (aesthetes) were much too limited to conceive that each had their place. Authenticity was not Darren Nichols forte, and his forays there were best left unreviewed. Give him Brecht, give him farce, give him camp. Geoffrey directed like an actor, which if he wasn't a great one would be useless madness. He could know all of the characters to get each actor to tap deep.
Darren was in awe, which he did his utmost to disguise, disavow and if need be disdain. Geoffrey had sycophants aplenty. He wasn't always right. If he was he'd never have tried to strangle a swan. Over the years Darren had learned a lot about livestock--pound for pound poultry were more trouble than anything except a pissing horse.
He figured one should only count the weight of the piss, not the whole horse.
As the ferry docked, Darren grabbed his grip and thought of where to start. He went to Wilby to view a very specific officer. Anything that might happen at the Watch after dark was inconsequential. He ambled down the gangway in flannel and denim.
A due South/Slings and Arrows less than 400 words:Free It's a D/s AU.
Two "Worlds Collide" shorts at my dw.
Rating:Themes related to canon.
Warnings:Darren and Uniform Kink
Sexual tourism. Darren leaned against the ferry rail. He'd allowed himself a week this trip, that was the most clothes suitable to the purpose that he had. Geoffrey might not believe him, not that Geoffrey's belief or disbelief meant much lately.
He supposed that Geoffrey was getting better--maybe staying in Toronto for so long hadn't been a good idea. Oliver and Ellen had gotten their hooks in deep, and Darren wasn't sure which was worse, or if it was the combination that was so dangerous. Supposed they might find out, since Ellen lived and Oliver did not.
Toronto had resulted in some interesting theater. Darren attended Sans Argent productions when he could, incognito naturally. They worked different aspects, and the mass (aesthetes) were much too limited to conceive that each had their place. Authenticity was not Darren Nichols forte, and his forays there were best left unreviewed. Give him Brecht, give him farce, give him camp. Geoffrey directed like an actor, which if he wasn't a great one would be useless madness. He could know all of the characters to get each actor to tap deep.
Darren was in awe, which he did his utmost to disguise, disavow and if need be disdain. Geoffrey had sycophants aplenty. He wasn't always right. If he was he'd never have tried to strangle a swan. Over the years Darren had learned a lot about livestock--pound for pound poultry were more trouble than anything except a pissing horse.
He figured one should only count the weight of the piss, not the whole horse.
As the ferry docked, Darren grabbed his grip and thought of where to start. He went to Wilby to view a very specific officer. Anything that might happen at the Watch after dark was inconsequential. He ambled down the gangway in flannel and denim.
A due South/Slings and Arrows less than 400 words:Free It's a D/s AU.
Two "Worlds Collide" shorts at my dw.