#the way i barely remember the plot of this book outside the ending and the sebastian stuff

[mistninja]

Reading city of glass is so so scary I don't want to get to the second brother bit

[ghostedgwen]

I really like how you wring angst and I know you like jegulus so what if james x reader who are married but the war is going on and they just had Harry but reader could tell that James' heart wasn't with her and they're contemplating a divorce (because James is still inlove with Reggie)

thank you so much ily

the final blow | j.potter

note : wow this hurt like absolute hell to write but the juicy juicyyy angstttt was so delicious i also enjoyed every bit of it! I love jegulus and i also love angst and james x reader so this was just a perfect request thank you so so muchhh! <3

warnings : SO MUCH ANGST, like not a single happiness in this one folks, read only if you want pain, hurt no comfort - nonexistent nope nada, jegulus in the plot, regulus is still very much dead rip, warning you might hate james and the other marauders but that's up to how you feel by the end of this, enjoy 3.8k of pain

The war is on and yet you felt too caught up in your failing marriage. James was different and somehow, it had everything to do with a boy who died a year ago who you never even knew at all.

└——————— - [ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 - 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚎]. +

The nursery is still, save for the soft rustling of pages and the barely-there coos of a infant being lulled to a peaceful sleep. Harry’s breathing has evened out into a slow, steady rhythm, one tiny fist curled near his cheek. You smile, lips ghosting against the words as you finish the last line of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, your voice just above a whisper.

“...and so the three brothers parted ways, each with something far greater than what they had bargained for.” You shut the book softly. “Goodnight, my love.”

You lean in and kiss him on his head, right where his black hair meets his forehead, you sit up straight and brush back a lock of his impossibly dark hair - his father’s hair. He smells like clean laundry and something sweet, perhaps chocolate.

The door creaks faintly, and you freeze.

You don’t look right away. You already know who it is, the silence that follows is familiar. Weighted and waiting, and careful with each step, you listened to the creaks on the floor next. 

You place the book down on the shelf with slow, deliberate care and finally turn around. James is leaning against the doorframe.

He doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes are on Harry. Not you. You watched as he trailed his hazel eyes over the crib where the sleeping infant was resting, and you watched as he failed to regard you.

Something in your chest pulls tight.

You offer him a tired look, but he doesn’t meet it. He only watches his son like he’s not sure how to enter the room he was supposed to live in.

After a pregnant pause, he pushes off the frame and disappears back down the hallway. No words offered for you at all. Not even a glance was spared, it stung like a stinging jinx.

You stay there, frozen in place, heart thudding in the quiet.

The room feels colder once he’s gone. Which is weird because it was unbelievably warm before he had been in it.

It wasn’t always like this. You remember when James used to come home and find you first - fingers tangling in your hair before you even had the chance to take off your coat, lips at your temple, laughter against your skin.

You used to fall asleep in his arms. You used to wake up to the weight of his hand around yours like gravity couldn’t separate you, even in sleep.

Now he sleeps too far on his side of the bed, the distance between you two more evident as the days go by.

Now you kiss your son alone goodnight while he pretends you weren’t even there.

You try not to think about what you found last week, the letter in his drawer, unsigned, unsent, a name you don’t speak aloud sealed behind the shaky handwriting.

“Don’t forget me.”

You try not to think about the way he said I love you this morning, like a reflex, like a password. Not a vow.

There’s a war brewing outside. One that kills and takes and tears. Your family was far from safe, your little Harry being the one most at risk and yet, it feels like your home had a war of its own brewing right below you.

But the worst part, you could feel it stir right below you as if reeling you in with every motion round and round and round - and the war didn’t do this to you.

He did.

And he’s still doing it. Bit by bit, if he meant it then you just had to question why. What did you do to him that was so wrong to be punished this cruelly?

You reach for the crib railing, holding onto it like it might anchor you, and allowed a single tear to roll down your tired cheek. The war was stirring right under you and every day the stir is stronger, some of it spilling and you wonder how much you could take before you fall right in.

The tea’s gone cold. You honestly don’t even remember making it. The warmth had all but left the mug as you cradled it in both hands like it could ground you to reality.

And reality is that your marriage was falling apart, horrendously, like the foundations were never that strong to begin with.

The morning light cuts through the kitchen blinds in pale slats, painting stripes on the floor like prison bars. You’re seated at the table, hands cupped around your mug like it still offers warmth. Across the room, James fumbles with the frying pan, back to you, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, wand lazily flipping bacon.

The air smells like eggs and burning toast.

It smelled like home and it was somewhat warm, like how a home should be but it felt far from it. Your husband’s broad back was no longer a comforting sight to see, it was all you’ve been seeing. His back, turned on you. Metaphorically and quite literally.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he offers, voice light, like he’s commenting on the weather. It surprised you that he even bothered to talk.

You don’t lift your head. “So have you.”

There’s a moment of silence, like even that clipped answer bruises something. You watch him from beneath your lashes - how he pretends to focus on the pan, how his shoulders twitch when you speak. He doesn’t look at you. He hasn’t looked at you in weeks.

Like your gaze might sear through to something he doesn’t want you to see. But the thing is, you have already seen through it all despite his pathetic attempts.

You take a long breath, careful not to let your voice crack. “Where have you been, James?”

His hand stills, you see the tense warp all over him. He doesn’t turn. “Order stuff.”

You snort, it was out of you before you could stop it. “Right. Of course. Order stuff.” You set the mug down harder than intended. It clinks. “What’s her name?”

That gets him. He flinches like you slapped him with your words,a nd perhaps you had wanted that effect.

He turns, slowly. “What are you on about?”

You laugh but it’s empty. There’s no joy in it. No amusement. Only the acidic tang of disbelief and hurt simmering just beneath your skin. He dares to still pull this shit despite you being very blunt and outright with him, after almost a month of dancing with him in this fucked up waltz.

“I’m not stupid.” Your voice is shaking now, with quietly simmering fury. “Or perhaps I am, for even asking the obvious. But I’m not that stupid, James. So at least tell me her name.”

His jaw tightens. You can see the muscle tick in his cheek. His facial hair has surely grown, it suits him and for a moment, all you see is the man. Gone was the bit of youth you saw still residing in him, the James you had back in school - he’s just a man now.

A man in your house that you weren’t sure you wanted in it.

“There’s no other woman,” he says finally, quietly, and it’s not a lie - you could tell that much, but it’s not comfort either.

Because there’s truth in the omission. Because Regulus Black doesn’t count as a woman. That’s when it hits you - it wasn’t a woman, but there is someone.

Your breath leaves you in a scoff, barely contained. “You’re unbelievable.”

James runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long, tired sigh, like he’s the one fraying. But you know better. You feel it, the threads snapping loose inside you. Little by little, you were the one dying and he was watching it happen like he wasn’t the one doing the stabbing.

“James, you - ”

You were cut off by a sharp piercing sound of your infant crying, Harry was crying all the way from the nursery and he had saved James right on cue. You could almost laugh, seems your baby was too convenient, it breaks the moment clean in half.

You shoot James a look - a bitter, burning glare that says this isn’t over - and shove your chair back with a scrape.

The tea sloshes over the rim of the mug as you stand. You don’t wait for him to speak. You don’t want to hear his excuses, not now, not in this quiet war zone of a kitchen that still smells like family and love and something that once resembled home.

You walk out, shoulders trembling, heart bruised and bracing.

Behind you, James doesn’t follow. He never does. He watched you leave like it was so easy for him, like he couldn’t be bothered if you didn’t come back.

He wasn’t home for three days after that. He left you a letter on the counter saying he’ll be with Sirius for more Order Stuff, you had burned that letter after reading it. You supposed the distance could be good to let your anger die down.

Despite everything, James knew you the best. He knew to keep his distance and to give you time as you were too angry to think rationally, you always lost it when you were angry - it’s almost funny how you barely know him anymore but he clearly still knows you.

He returned exactly after three days, like he said. You had acted like a ghost then, going about as if you were floating when he came back, serving him food and ate lunch with him like normal.

It’s now afternoon and raining.

You sit on the edge of the bed, still in yesterday’s jumper, fingers twisting in your lap like you’re bracing for impact. The storm outside taps against the windowpane in slow, uneven rhythm - like a heartbeat on its last set of beats.

James stands by the dresser, shirt half-buttoned, hair still damp from the shower. He hasn’t looked at you since he walked in from the bathroom - you could only wonder what goes on in that head of his.

You used to know.

You speak before you lose your nerve. “Do you still think about him?”

Silence. Not the kind that leaves room for answers - the kind that is the answer. Your lip twitches at that.

He doesn’t move, but it’s not like you could see as you have turned your back on him, you continue to watch the rain while he had been shuffling behind you. The tension in his shoulders spikes like he’s just taken a hit to the gut.

You keep your voice steady. “You’ve been somewhere else for weeks, James.”

He still says nothing.

You rise and turn to him. You walk past him slowly, like the air itself might snap underfoot. You open the drawer beneath his sweaters, the one he never uses.

And you find it, having seen it before and knowing exactly where it was hidden between his hold Quidditch jumper and a pair of trousers. 

It wasn’t a picture of all four of them, that one had been hung proudly on the painted wall in your living room. It’s not his parents either, their photos were framed and moving on top the kitchen counter top. It was definitely not either of you or Harry - those littered the walls of the staircase.

It was a picture of a boy, all alone looking into the camera like his eyes could pour out the love it had for the person taking the picture. Just Regulus. All alone, blinking slowly with a reserved smile playing on his lips, but even an idiot could tell such a small smile held a lot.

You hold it up without a word.

James turns, sees it, and his breath falters. A thousand cracks spiderweb across his face in one slow second.

“He’s dead,” he says, voice ever so hollow.

You nod once, tightly. “You don’t act like it.”

His jaw clenches. “I said he’s dead.”

The thunder rolls.

You look down at the photo, thumb brushing the edge. Regulus’ expression doesn’t change - just a flicker of haunted softness, caught forever. You swallow the scream building in your throat and smile, small and weary.

“Love doesn’t die with people, James,” you whisper. “Don’t be daft now.”

You look him in the eye again, tearing your gaze away from the photo. No flinching this time.

“We both know the truth. Stop dancing around it and just be honest with me. I have your name, your ring. I gave you a child.” Your voice breaks there, but you push through it. “I deserve that much.”

He runs a hand through his hair, looks like he might cry or yell or disappear. But instead, he says it. A quiet, breathless confession.  “...Yes. I - I still think of Reggie.”

Reggie.

Not Regulus. Not Black. 

Your chest goes tight, heat rising fast in your throat.

You want to slap him. Want to scream until the walls shatter but instead, you sit. Slow and controlled, but it did nothing but gave away the fact you had lost strength in your knees. They had buckled under the weight of that confession.

You let out a soft, bitter laugh, more air than sound.

“Thank you for your honesty.”

And this time, it’s you who won’t look at him.

The room is warm with firelight and shallow laughter. Someone cracks a joke - Sirius, maybe, and everyone laughs like they mean it. You force your lips to move into something resembling a smile, eyes trained on the rim of your glass, fingers curled too tightly around the stem.

James is across the room, drink in hand, his laugh a little too loud, his grin a little too sharp at the edges. You know it by heart, the performance. That peculiar brand of forced brightness that he only pulls out when he’s trying to hide something behind his teeth.

Sirius is watching him. It’s obvious he knew of James’ troubles in paradise, those two were soulmates, the very definition, of the word. He was watching James like he would implode any minute, and maybe he will.

Maybe you will.

The fireplace crackles behind you, casting the room in soft gold and cruel shadows. Your throat is dry, your wine untouched. You don’t remember what the meeting was even about.

Just that it’s over now, and you're all pretending life is something you still have time for.

You excuse yourself to find a quiet corridor. Exiting the festivities (if you could even call it that), you breathe.

But you're not alone for long.

Lily corners you by the coat rack, hair slipping loose from its clip, eyes glassy from drink or knowing, maybe both. Most likely both, she was always smart like that. She had figured out the furry problem at first year, first month in.

“It’s very obvious, you know,” she says gently, trying to remain kind in her tone. “Maybe not to the others, but… as your best friend - I can tell. What’s wrong?”

You freeze, throat thick. She reaches for your hand, soft and warm and familiar, and instead of being comforting, it hurts.

You look her dead in the eye. “Did you know?”

She blinks. “Know what?”

You swallow, breath shaky. “About him, and R - Regulus.”

The pause is short, too short in fact, as you watch her face fall.

You feel it like a knife to the ribs, lodged in your heart after it had stabbed past the now broken rib. She knew.

“You knew,” you whisper, horror building, “You didn’t tell me.”

Lily’s voice is small. “It wasn’t my secret to tell. I’m sorry.”

You're shaking now. You force your voice steady.

“Who else knew?”

Lily looks down at her shoes. Her silence answers you before her words do.

“Everyone.”

You almost shatter the glass in your hand. The stem creaks under your grip. “Everyone knew but me. And how long did they - how long?”

She doesn’t meet your eyes.

“End of fifth,” she says, like it might be softer that way. “Till sixth. A whole year. I found out because… I caught them. They didn’t plan on telling anyone.”

You feel something rupture inside your chest. A small, silent explosion no one else will ever hear. You look around the room, through the crack in the door - at Sirius, at Remus, at Marlene and Peter. At James.

You’d thought they were your family.

Lily tries again. “I couldn’t tell you. It wasn’t my business. And besides - he… he died. That secret had died with him.”

Your laugh is dry. Empty. It slips out without your permission.

“He died,” you echo, “but he took James with him.”

Lily's eyes snap up to yours. Your voice doesn’t rise, nor does it crack.

You say it like a confession. A final nail in that coffin that had long been dropped six feet under.

“My husband isn’t mine. He’s just a man living in my house, eating my food, loving my son - but he doesn’t love me.”

Lily looks like she wants to say something, but her mouth just opens and closes around the weight of it all. She can’t fix it, she knows that.

You take a breath, glass trembling in your hand, and finish the thought: “I don’t even know if I can say I lost him… when he wasn’t really mine at all.”

And that’s the truth of it. Not that he loved someone else, but that he never loved you enough.

The storm hits the windows in rhythmic bursts, water streaming like tears down the glass. Wind howled outside and it was almost mocking how the weather reflected the emotions stirring inside you.

You’re pacing. The clock ticks too loudly, the silence of the house even louder.

He’s late. Again.

You hear the door creak open. Hear his boots on the floorboards. Wet cloak, shaking hair, the sharp smell of rain and danger and someone who doesn’t belong here any more.

James doesn’t even flinch when he sees you standing there, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

“If you don’t want this,” you start - voice already raw, “then just tell me.”

He shuts the door behind him. But he doesn’t take a step closer or even shed off his wet cloak that weighed his shoulders down along with the look on your face.

“It’s just the war,” he says. He almost sounded convincing but you’re not that easy any more.

“No,” you snap. “The war is outside, James.”

You take a step forward. Point to the floor beneath your feet, to the table where he hasn't joined you in days, to the light that's dimmed from your eyes.

“This? This is you. This is him. This is me - dying in a house we built together.”

His shoulders drop. He breathes your name like a prayer, like a curse. But you didn’t allow it to get to you, not again, it just slid off like some curse thrown towards a protective shield.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t have to,” you whisper, voice hollow. “You just stopped choosing me.”

Your fingers press lightly to your chest, where your wedding ring sits heavy on its chain.

“Or was I ever the choice?”

The words bleed out of you before you can stop them.

You think back to seventh year. The way he held your hand at graduation. How you both clung to each other after his parents died - cold hands, dragon pox, the funeral so quiet and cruel.

You were eighteen and in love and hopeful. You got married within months of graduation. It felt like survival. It felt like forever was promised then.

Harry came before you could blink. Twenty years old and calling yourself Mum.

And now you’re twenty-one, with a baby asleep upstairs and a husband who can’t look you in the eye - mourning a boy he was never allowed to love out loud.

“I don’t want to give Harry a home that has nothing but quiet resentment,” you murmur, fighting back the tremble. “He deserves better.”

“I don’t want him to have a broken family,” James fires back.

Your head snaps toward him. “You don’t think we’re already broken?”

The kitchen cracks open with the weight of it.

“Do what’s best for our son,” you say slowly, deliberately. “Let’s just end this here, before we hurt each other further.”

James steps forward now, frantic. Desperate. “Please. Don’t - don’t say that. Don’t give up on us, Harry - “

You shake your head, breath catching.

“James,” you say, voice thick. “Please. Be honest. With me. With yourself.”

You can barely breathe as the storm raged on outside, it was so fitting with the rage that stirred in you. You couldn’t let it all out, afraid you’d hurt him if you allowed the anger to ooze out of you so you stood there, allowing your anger and pain to rattle you to the core.

Stood there, calm in your stance and your wand nowhere in sight as you confronted your fears. You could almost explode from the feelings overtaking you but you are a woman, a mother. You had it in you to still stood with clothes not wrinkled, hair pinned properly as your heart slowly broke to a million pieces.

You had grown up with society’s fucking expectations of women, so you managed to keep it all in as you were tearing at the seams. Your voice was steady when it spoke despite how much your hands were trembling and how bad you wanted to yell.

It was all inside you as you slowly filtered them out.

“Regulus was just a year, but he clearly meant so much more. Choose him and mean it - or choose me and promise to forget he ever existed.”

You blink back the sting in your eyes.

“We both know you can’t erase him. Not really. So let’s stop pretending. Let’s stop hurting.”

Silence stretches between you, sharp and sacred. His eyes are glassy now, wide and wet and full of all the things he never said aloud.

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

Then finally: “I want you to know that it was love. It really was.” you allowed those words to stab you all over, you could almost guess those words would come back to haunt you every night. He wasn’t done. “There was love somewhere in between, please believe me.”

And that is what sucked. “I do.”

How funny. The last time you said those words, it meant something sweeter. Like a promise of forever that you thought rightfully belonged to you. The ring hung heavier on your neck now, like a weight that was pulling you down and you wonder if you went underwater, if you’d ever come back up for air with how it dragged you so.

The storm outside roars, but you can’t hear it over the sound of your heart finally breaking.

end. masterlist

[marthawrites]

A Not So Hidden Secret

Modern Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 2.6k+

About: Rhaenyra discovers something in the bedroom that you, admittedly, forgot about, but didn't want her to know about!

Includes: This is mostly porn with some general plot to set things up. So, SMUT. Featuring established relationship, soft dom Rhae vibes, praise, sex toys (nipple clamps and vibrators) pushing reader out of her comfort zone, minor pain play, reader receiving oral sex, overstimulation, after care, fluff

Note: Hello lovely reader! Rhaenyra's age isn't specified in this fic, so you can read it with either "younger" (milly alcock) or "older" (emma d'arcy) Rhaenyra. I wrote it with older Rhae in mind, but how you read it is up to you! Reader is non-descript. As always, please enjoy!

-

“When were you going to tell me about these, sweetling?” Rhaenyra asked as she came out of your shared bedroom and sat on the couch with you. Casually, she pulled your foot into her lap so she could idly trace over the lower portion of your leg. She held something in her hand and if you could see her you’d see a sly little grin on her face. 

Her soft voice–filled with amusement–barely registered as you read your book. Turning the page, you didn’t bother to stop as you asked, “hm?”

She’d sat down on the opposite end of the couch where you laid to read, and you felt the cushions dip as she shifted over you. Straddling your hips, she pushed the book down so your attention was on her and not whatever silly who-done-it you were currently reading. “I said, when were you going to tell me about these?” She held up a small clear plastic bag and realization hit you.

Oh hell–the nipple clamps!

“Where did you find those!?” You half-squeaked, face hot with embarrassment–and maybe a teeny bit of guilt for not telling her.

Rhaenyra’s eyes danced with curious humor. “They weren't hidden. I went to wear some of your fluffy socks I like and they were right on top of your dresser.”

It's true. They weren't hidden. 

Yours and Rhaenyra’s relationship had been going strong for nearly two years now, and when she invited you to move in you practically screamed with joy. She was an absolute delight and treated you so well–and you, her! She lived in a beautiful townhouse in upscale King’s Landing that Viserys likely pulled a couple stings to make happen. But, Rhaenyra had always been his favorite child and there wasn't anything he'd skimp on for her. You’d been living together for almost six months. You didn’t hide anything from her–you had no reason to–and she didn’t hide anything from you. But these damn nipple clamps?

You looked between her eyes as tension coiled in your belly. Heat still lingered in your cheeks and you hoped she couldn’t see it. Biting your lip sheepishly, you said, “I can explain!”

She smirked. She had a dimple in her cheek and it was on full display. “Something I’m quite eager to hear about.”

You ran a hand down your face covering the giggle her words elicited from you. “Okay okay, so…,” you started, looking up at her as demurely as you could. “Remember when I bought that toy a month or so back?”

“Mm-hm,” she answered, dimple deepening.

“Well when I checked out apparently I spent enough to earn a ‘free gift’ if I wanted. So, I thought, what the heck! and clicked yes. I was hoping for maybe a tiny vibe or something, ya know? One of those cute ones that looks like lipstick or something,” you giggled again, blushing deeper. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed talking to your girlfriend about this sort of thing–you both loved toys!–but sometimes you did feel a wave of embarrassment talking about them outside of the bedroom.

Rhaenyra hummed in acknowledgment. “I see,” she said. “And when you opened your box and saw these… did you try them on?” Her voice was lower, now, a feminine husk that tickled along your senses in the most wicked ways. Amusement still glinted in her eyes, too, and made them all the more lovely. 

You shook your head, exclaiming, “no! They freaked me out a little, honestly!” You wish you would have thrown the stupid things away. Or at least hid them! Tension shuddered up and down your spine. Warmth began to slowly spread outward from your center, and you were glad you weren’t straddling her. If you were, she'd know exactly what she was doing to you. Being beneath her gaze like this shouldn't affect you in such a way, but… it did. “I haven’t even opened them!”

She laughed. Lowering, she kissed you and purred, “and here I thought I ruined a surprise you had for me.”

With her lips on yours any teasing retort you might have said flew out the window. The initial playfulness of her kiss shifted to something deeper, hungrier. Breaking away from it, you pouted, “sorry for disappointing you,” with a tiny grin of your own.

One of her hands pushed up beneath the front of your shirt, causing the material to bunch the higher she went. She felt your ribs hitch and she hummed against your mouth, delighted. Going higher still, she palmed over the swell of your sports bra covered breast and that hum turned into an appreciative moan. “I know a way to make it up to me,” she suggested, fingers splaying wide as she brushed over the fullness of your breasts.

Your breath started to come quicker and the liquid warmth between your thighs grew needier. “Oh yeah?” You asked, spine arching up into her touch. Your own hands pushed up the tops of her thighs until your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her biker shorts and snapped it teasingly against her waist.

“Yeah. You can try them on now. For me. You’ll let me clamp those pretty nipples, won’t you?” Her voice might have tilted slightly with the question, but there was no question about it.

Yes, yes, yes.

Biting your lip, you nodded as you looked up at her. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”

The expression she gave you was purely feline. Rolling off you, she offered you her hand. “In our room,” she said, tilting her head in its direction.

A trail of strewn clothes littered the space between the living room and bedroom, and Rhaenyra didn’t even bother to close the curtains as she stepped right between your legs when you sat on the edge of the bed. The townhouse was two-stories high and with the position of the window, as well as the arrangement of your room, there was an extremely low chance of anyone seeing anything. She looked down at you and traced the back of her hand over your jaw before sliding her thumb over your mouth. “Those eyes are so pretty looking up at me like this,” she cooed. “My perfect girl.”

Shivers filled your body at her praise. “Nyra…,” you whined, blushing yet again, doing your best to not turn your face away from her in flustered embarrassment.

“My sweet girl still feeling shy about her little secret?” Rhaenyra asked as she opened the plastic bag, pulling the chained clamps out. It clanked softly in the quiet room. “Ooh, these can get really tight,” she said as she showed you the pinch of the clamp. “Let’s loosen those a bit, yeah?” She asked amusedly as she twisted the screw looser on each. 

The tips were covered in a brightly colored smooth rubber, and you assumed it was for the comfort of the wearer. Anticipation fizzed in your belly as you watched Rhae. She only wore her underwear, as did you, and it somehow made the setting all the more intimate.

“There,” she breathed, testing the tightness on the tip of her pinky. “Ready?

Gulping–and unintentionally squirming–you nodded. “I am.” Still sitting, you leaned back on your hands and the position allowed you to easily arch your spine as you offered your breasts to her. You watched as she clipped one on. You gasped. Once she clipped the second on you gasped sharper. 

Leaning down, Rhaenyra kissed you softly. “Good girl,” she whispered against your lips. “How do they feel?”

You looked down the front of your chest, and Rhaenyra took the moment to inspect her work, too; electricity charged the bedroom’s air. Your nipples were pinched tight and the very tips of them buzzed. “Feels weird,” you giggled, still trying to wrap your head around the strange sensation. “It doesn’t hurt-hurt but it sort of hurts.” You realized how silly it sounded as soon as you said it. “Think they’ll fall off?” You asked, shimmying your shoulders in a way that sent your tits swaying just slightly. The little chain rattled and somehow that made you feel all the more dirty about it.

“Fuck,” she hissed beneath her breath, watching. “God, you have the sexiest tits. Can’t believe you let me clamp them. You are the loveliest gem,” she said before she was on your mouth again. The kiss was immediately hot and heavy, desperate in a way that made you sink your fingers into her half-messy updo, stray little curls framing her face. With a soft moan she pushed you back, careful to not disturb the clamps or chain too much. 

Laying on your back, you wrapped your legs around Rhaenyra’s waist and kissed her with fervor. “Think I want them off now,” you admitted, really starting to feel the pain of them.

She hushed you. “Shh, no, not yet, sweetling. You’re doing very well. They hurt?” 

You nodded, looking up into her desire glazed eyes with your softened doe eyes.

“Let me show you how sweet the pain can make the pleasure,” she said, expression turning sweetly wicked. Without giving you any time to ask questions or protest, she slid down the front of your body until she laid between your thighs. In a single sweeping movement she tugged your panties off; those things didn’t stand a chance. She groaned as she saw how wet you were, how ready your body was, how responsive you’ve been to this new experiment. “Fucking hell, love,” she rasped. “You could take my strap right now without any prep. You are so fucking wet.”

A hazy fog already began to settle in your brain. Anticipation, emotions, and sensations sent your hips squirming in need. You made a little sound in response to her words, but no actual words came out of your mouth. She hadn’t even started on you yet and already she rendered you to an unintelligible mess. 

Her arms wrapped around your thighs and positioned you just how she wanted, and she instantly dragged her tongue up the fullness of your center. She lapped full lazy licks up your slit, catching and kissing your clit at the top of each stroke, before doing it all over again.

And again.

Your hands flew down to her hands squeezing into your thighs, and you squeezed atop them as she devoured your pussy. Too much. It was already too much. How was it already too much? “Oh my god..!” You breathed, gasping, a tight coil of pleasure already threatening to snap in those low muscles of your belly. “H-holy fucking shit…!”

Rhaenerya planned to murder you. Truly.

She moaned into you and didn’t stop. She gently drew your swollen clit into her mouth and slid her tongue over it, feeling your thighs begin to shudder around her. She alternated between licking and sucking–even kissing the bud when she thought you needed to catch a full breath–until your hands were in her hair.

“God! N-Nyra..! I’m gonna co-,” and before you could finish whimpering out those final words, she shattered you. Orgasm rolled over you in warm waves of bliss. Still, she never stopped, and you rode it out until it threatened to crest into a second peak and become painful. 

It was then, and only then, that she stopped and looked up at you, panting almost as much as you were. “You taste so fucking good. Stay right here, I’m not done with you yet.” She slipped off the bed and walked over to your dresser, going right for the drawer you kept all your toys. Picking out a vibrator she knew you loved–its width and shape always making quick work of you–she smiled like a succubus. Crawling back between your legs, she once again didn’t give you time to protest before turning it on. “Don’t even think about taking those clamps off.”

You opened your mouth to say something in retort but the second you did you felt–and saw–Rhaenrya begin to push that big vibrator into your clenching, soaked, needy fucking pussy. Your eyes rolled closed when she seated it fully inside you. Tension instantly returned to your core and you barely covered your mouth in time to muffle an overstimulated cry. The muscles of your abdomen flexed and tightened, hips stuttering, as bliss threatened to push you over the edge. 

God you fucking loved this thing. 

“If only you could see yourself right now,” Rhaenrya cooed as she watched you from below, able to see not only your saturated cunt as she pumped the toy in and out of you, but also see up your belly to your breasts, and your blissed out face above those. “You are so lovely. So perfect. So fucking sexy and dirty.”

“P-please! Too much. Too much,” you gasped, still shuddering and clenching on your vibrator.

She smirked like the devil himself as she leaned forward and began to lavish your clit with her tongue and lips once again. She held the vibrator inside you, keeping it in place and not letting it squeeze out from your clenching depths. Nor did she pump it in and out of you. She simply kept it there. Deep. Buzzing away inside your perfect walls on one of its highest settings. She let all those inner muscles do the work as she ate your clit.

If you thought the first (or was it two?) orgasm was too much, this one really was. A strangled cry left your throat as blinding pleasure pulsed through every single nerve-ending in your body. Molten lava consumed you. You were weightless. Formless. Your hips spasmed beneath her and you thought you might actually pass out.

Carefully, with one final kiss to your clit, she pulled the toy out from your overstimulated center. She turned it off and dropped it on the bed. She moved to lay beside you, kissing your cheek. With a much softer expression, she asked, “you okay?”

You hadn’t realized the intensity of your last orgasm caused more than physical release to flood you. Tears had gathered in your eyes and slid down your temples. It’s not that you were sad–not at all–but the sensation had been that intense. You couldn’t remember the last time this happened! The tears were short lived and as soon as you wiped them away, no more came. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered softly, voice thicker and more horse than you expected. “Holy shit. I’m more than okay,” you laughed, honestly dumbfounded at how your body could still be weightless and tingling. “I’m honestly fucking amazing right now.”

“Good,” she answered with a little giggle of her own. “I’m going to take the clamps off now, okay?”

You nodded, slowly coming back into yourself.

Once your nipples were free of the clamps, she tenderly kissed each one. “You did so, so very well. I’m beyond proud of you my sweet, perfect, lovely girl,” she said as she nuzzled soft kisses at the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your neck.

You tickled her face with kisses too, soaking in all of her sweet lovey words. “Pretty sure my soul is still coming back to my body, but, once it does I am so tackling the fuck outta you,” you proclaimed fiercely, wanting to give her even a fraction of what she had given you.

That got a laugh out of her. “Take your time, sweetling,” she winked. “I’m half starved. I’ll go order us dinner and be back in for said tackling. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed as you watched her walk out of the bedroom in only her panties, searching for her phone to call something in from one of your favorite restaurants.

By the time you were done giving thanks to your girlfriend for all the pleasure she gave you, dinner was cold on the front porch. But, even with that, it was still one of the best damn meals you'd had lately.

After dinner, you found your book on the couch again, and Rhaenyra flicked on the latest show she'd been binging–both of you sharing one really big, really soft, blanket.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 7

On a personal level this week has been a very mixed bag but I know that if nothing else got me, this show got me. It's gonna come in clutch for me every time, spider bites and potential hauntings be damned.

I. Love. It. Here.

Will I ever not take psychic damage from the expression Tongrak makes when Mahasamut tells him that he cares about him? The answer is no. It's wonderful and devastating every time.

"How would you rate me out of 10?" Mahasamut asks while Tongrak's face plots teasing and mischief.

Opening a safe shouldn't look so much like staring down the gallows but here we are. Not being able to see how Tongrak's hands were shaking in a screenshot is a blessing.

The panic and terror on this man's face when he saw the read receipt on his phone is something I never want to see again. My hatred for Rak's piece of shit sperm donor is murderous and profound. How actually fucking dare he put this look on his child's face I'm going to kill him with my bare hands.

Peat's acting is so genuinely good that it hurts me. Tongrak was trembling so much that he was struggling to put the phone away and when he gets back to his room, he practically tries to crawl into Mahasamut's skin to hide and feel safe. Look at him, he looks so tiny and scared and I want to cry.

Let us take a break from the sad with this supremely horny shot of Mook unzipping Vivi's dress. Everyone say thank you.

And pour one out for our girl, as is now a weekly custom. Vivi my girly is dying CONFESS TO HER AND MAKE OUT ABOUT IT.

"I'm not going to the event! >:(" Yes you are, mi alma, look at your face when Mook threatens to quit.

Not pictured: One (1) resigned sigh

The grumpiest kitten in the whole venue.

Tongrak: *complaining* Mahasamut: *heart eyes*

My favorite moment of the face journey Tongrak goes on when he realizes just how good Mahasamut looks and that he will be Perceived and decides to mess up his hair about it. The grumpy kitten is a jealous jellyfish.

It's the fact that Tongrak looks surprised that his fans like his books and have consumed his entire body of work. I'M GOING TO SOB.

The smile is polite and professional but the eyes are sparkly. He genuinely enjoys interacting with his fans.

The proud husband smile means everything to me.

THE LOOK OF ABSOLUTE LOATHING AND DISGUST! INCREDIBLE PHENOMENAL OUTSTANDING.

IF YA'LL THINK I'M NOT GONNA MAKE A SEPARATE POST ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS MAN YOU'RE SO FUCKING WRONG

If I have to have this demonic nasty hell witch on my screen, at least I get to watch her face make this expression after Tongrak calls her out for imitating him because he got it right on the money and she knows it.

Tongrak and the visceral hatred in his eyes said play me another waltz I'm tired of dancing to this one.

God love you, but you look so tired.

This entire scene was more brutal to watch than the fight outside of Tongrak's house. It was obvious that something more was going on from how calmly he was speaking and how non-responsive he became toward the end of it, but look at his hands. Look at how tightly they're clenched. Maintaining his composure while Prin stuck that knife in his wounds and twisted it as viciously as she could cost him, and it would be obvious even if we hadn't already seen them fight.

Tongrak, you're my fighter. He still looks tired because he is, but he also looks like the imperious ice prince he's had to be to survive. Then the utterly dismissive way he turns and walks out and cuts eye contact?

We can barely see Nouel's smile but it's so clearly saying "bruh that's cringe".

He's not just my fighter. He's Mahasamut's fighter, too.

Do ya'll remember how Tongrak was acting when he first brought Mahasamut to live with him and Vivi was teasing him?

Look how far they've come.

I can't quite articulate how, but the way they look at each other has changed, and I don't just mean because they're being lovey in front of Vivi and Mook. There's this undercurrent of sweetness that wasn't there before, even in private. That scene way back in episode 3 where Tongrak told Mahasamut to ask him to stay on the island which had so much softness and fondness to it did not have that same something that's now present.

I'm gonna leave ya'll with that and then go take more screenshots so I can properly scream about Mahasamut. And let me know if you wanna be tagged in these weekly writeups!

[railleriee]

Biker! Gojo

October 1st: Biker! Gojo has been on my mind for awhile and I decided to make him come to life. I'm still getting used to writing smut, so please bare with me! Reader has no set pronouns, but is referred to have a vagina. Warnings: Reader's privates are referred to as "cunt", begging, slight sub gojo if you squint, semi-public? sex, p in v, vehicle sex, etc.

word count: 1,480 NSFW below the cut:

Biker! Gojo who treats his bike as if it’s his child. 

Biker! Gojo who doesn’t let anyone ride on the back of his bike, let alone drive it. 

Biker! Gojo whose attention is caught by the pretty thing he spotted outside the local bookstore. 

Biker! Gojo who usually has no issue picking up “hoes”, but he’s caught off guard by your refusal to go on a date with him. 

Biker! Gojo who finds out the bookstore you frequent is actually your workplace.

Biker! Gojo who shows up during your shift to bug you, asking random questions about books he’s never heard of. 

Biker! Gojo, who notices your cheeks turn flush when asked about the kind of books you read. 

Biker! Gojo who manages to pick up a book you recommended, it just so happens to be one of your favorites.

Biker! Gojo who is taken aback by the content of your recommendation, it’s kinda graphic for someone like you isn’t it? 

Biker! Gojo who sees a whole new side of you while “reading” the book. (He doesn’t even remember the plot.) 

Biker! Gojo who picks up on your love for smutty fantasy books as you giddily talk to him about the new release coming from your favorite author. 

Biker! Gojo who starts showing up to your work daily, walking in with his bright blue helmet on, the perfect shade to match his eyes. 

Biker! Gojo who insists he takes you on a ride, for the hundredth time. 

Biker! Gojo who shows up the next day with the newest release from your favorite author, wrapped in a pink ribbon. 

Biker! Gojo who watches in admiration as you gasp and question how he got the book, it hasn’t even been released in stores yet! 

Biker! Gojo who’s over the moon when you agree to let him take you on a date. 

Biker! Gojo who goes home, driving well over the speed limit, he has to prepare for tomorrow! 

Biker! Gojo who polishes his bike, making her nice and pretty for the first (and only) person to ever ride on his bike with him. 

Biker! Gojo who takes three hours to get ready, choosing the best outfit and making sure his hair is styled well. 

Biker! Gojo who shows up at your work before you close, ready to take you out. 

Biker! Gojo who puts his helmet on your head for you, helping you sit on the back of his bike. He has to protect that pretty face! 

Biker! Gojo, who drives way safer than usual, he doesn’t want to scare you off! 

Biker! Gojo, who takes you out to dinner, the fanciest restaurant he could find, he has to impress his future partner of course. 

Nsfw: 

Biker! Gojo who bought you a few drinks, not enough for you to be drunk, but enough to get you feeling a bit more bold. 

Biker! Gojo who blushes slightly when he feels you getting more handsy with him. 

Biker! Gojo who removes your hands from his lower region, he doesn’t want to fuck on the first date! 

Biker! Gojo who almost wrecks the bike when you place your hands on the growing bulge in his pants. 

Biker! Gojo who ends up pulling into his garage…wasn't he taking you home? 

Biker! Gojo who lifts the helmet off your head, staring at your eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. 

Biker! Gojo who blushes as you ruffle his already messy hair. 

Biker! Gojo who leans down to kiss you, a simple peck would’ve been enough for him, but he’s not gonna deny your advances as you deepen the kiss.

Biker! Gojo who removes his gloves and throws the helmet to the side, his bike isn’t the most important thing anymore. 

Biker! Gojo who gets handsy, up your shirt, near the hem of your pants. 

Biker! Gojo who’s out of breath by the time you pull apart, both staring at each other intensely.

Biker! Gojo who picks you up and places you on the side of his bike, deepening the kiss even more, your head thrown back with a slight whine. 

Biker! Gojo, who wants more, needs more. 

His hands are cupping your face, leg pressed up between your core to keep you in place. He feels like a crazed man. How long has he been craving this? Years? Months? It’s only been barely a month but he can’t get enough. You taste like cherry and the continuous whines that make their way out of your mouth are driving him crazy.  The condition of his bike, and what is soon going to happen upon it are long out of his mind. His hands travel down your thighs back up to your shirt. Quickly discarding the fabric onto the floor. A chill runs down your spine upon feeling his cold hands on your skin. Kissing from neck to bottom. Not leaving one spot forgotten. Sucking on your nipple while pinching the other between his massive fingers.

If his hands are this big, how big is his dick? 

He makes his way lower, hands slipping under the hem of your skirt, slowly pulling it up, teasing as he gets to his knees. “Toru no teasing,” a small whine leaves your lips. He glances up with that dumb smile of his, he’s having the time of his life. Slowly letting a puff of air out of his mouth, blowing the cool air right on your aching center. “Hurry up! I need you.” He’s totally getting off on it. Your slight begging. He takes it even slower. Panties dragged down your leg by his teeth, discarded along somewhere with your top. Another puff of cool air hits your core. A loud whine making its way out as you decide you’ve had enough. Your hands are lost within his white locks, pushing his head closer to where he continues to tease. Looking down at him with an intense look. His eyes widen at your impression, oddly turned on even more as he dips his warm tongue into you, savoring the flavor of your fluids. He never took himself as one to take orders from someone else, but when you’re telling him to go harder, faster, deeper. He obliges without hesitation. What is this new feeling and why does it feel so good? He eats like a starved man. As if he didn’t just eat a 3 course meal an hour ago.

Desert.

He’s groaning into your cunt, unsheathing himself from his pants. Dick hard in his hands as he gets himself off while eating out his desert. He comes undone not too long later. A slight giggle leaving your mouth at his face pressed up against your thigh, panting, looking up at you with love struck eyes. He’s far from done, he needs to have you, now. He wants to make you feel good, spoil you, for the rest of forever. He makes his way back up, now hovering over you. Completely forgetting how tall the man was when he was on his knees before you. Letting off a whine as you kiss his neck, taking his still hard on in your hand, slowly stroking him up and now. He looks down with need in his eyes. He wants to be in you, feel you.

He begs.

A soft, “please, please, please.” leave his swollen lips. His eyes light up upon the giggle and nod you give him. He’s quick to ease himself into you, gasps leaving both mouths. He almost comes on the spot. The warm gummy walls that surround him are almost too much. He begins slow thrusts, however eager he may be, he doesn’t want to hurt the pretty being in front of him. It takes a lot for him to pick up the pace, but upon hearing the sternness of your beg for him to go faster. He’s instantly ramming his hips into you. Soft kisses and pleas of coming together leave his lips. He seems in love. He is in love. From the first time he saw you walk into the bookstore, he knew he had to have you. A little while later he has you hiked up higher on his bike. The damn thing ready to fall over. Legs spread wider than you knew could. He could care less. You feel too good around him. His whimpers and whines getting louder and louder the closer he gets. He’s begging again. Begging to come together. He wants to see and feel you when coming undone. Slight tears prick your eyes at the new position, how can something hurt so bad, yet feel so good? You were addicted. His dick, his eyes, his mouth…his filthy, filthy mouth muttering the craziest shit you’ve ever heard. Was that a love confession just now? Who knows, too cock drunk to fully process anything he says. 

What happened to not fucking on the first date? 

[tastywormfood]

Ive tried to get my feelings about Moominvalley s4 into words, but im having a really hard time even accepting them. But ill try!

So here's my thoughts in Moominvalley s4.

Im 23 now and i remember being 12 - 15 figuring out my identity, and the only "representation" in mrdia being basically either "Bury your gays" trope or just queerbaiting. I grew up on a base level thinking i wasnt allowed to exist, and if i still dared to, tragedy would be my only birth right.

I believed i wasnt allowed to live a happy, soft AND queer life, cause no media i had seen had ever showed me that, that was a possibility.

Both the 90's Moomin series and Moominvalley 2019 are my comfort shows. I fall asleep to them at night, i listen to them like a podcast while im working or outside, they even calm my panic attacks. I collect cups, plushies, i collect the Comics and even some of the books.

I have 3 Moomin tattoos. This universe means a damn lot to me, and to thousands of ppl world wide.

As a queer person i find incredible comfort in Tove Janssons work, and you have to be a fool to be unable to see the way Snufkin and Moomintroll are written together.

I have been following this show since early 2020 and have watched interview to interview, ive listened to the podcast more times than i can count, and they knew what they were doing.

From the beginning of the show they deliberately wrote Snufkin and Moomin to be something more, they even confess In a BTS that their Moomin might like Snufkin more than Snorkmaiden. Even the podcast talked about it!! We are not crazy!!!

I feel incredibly gaslit by the entire situation, and suddenly im 14 again being told im reading too much into it.

Idk what happened inbetween S3 and 4, but it felt like all the love and care that came from the show, just disappeared?

Ignoring Snufmin for a second, every episode this season felt like a filler. It has no plot, followed up on nothing from the last seasons, and had an extreme amount of loose ends.

The former seasons, especially s1 and 2 has such amazing writting, character development and just a feeling of patience and of softness, i would watch it and think everything would be okay... But this season felt stripped of every inch of the care Tove Jansson put into her universe.

I want to talk a little about Moomintroll.

One of Moomins character Arcs is his want to grow up, its his need to be taken seriously and his need for independence and adventure. His need to step out of his dads shadow, and to be his own moomin! The character development he had built up through out the seasons, completely and utterly disappeared. There is no trace of anything in s4.

He is right back to where he started in s1, not being able to stand up for himself and say no, not having the confidence to go on adventures and right back to idealizing his dad. If anything this entire season felt like a prequal! Cause at least s1 Moomintroll wanted to learn, and was activily trying to change.

Moomintroll truly felt like a side character this season, i dont even think he has any important moments. Unless you count Comet in Moominvalley (which i dont), where all his independence has disappeared. Moominpapa literally has to push him out. He made one decision that eps, which was to float down the river instead of walking, which ended up being the wrong and slower way.

The regression Moomintroll went threw this season is heartbreaking, and thats not my Moomin.

Focusing for a bit on Snufkin, this season felt like a slap to the face.

They know that Snufkin is one of their most popular characters right? If not the most popular. If anything he is at least in the top 3, not only in Moominvalley but in the rest of the moominverse.

So why did this season feel like Snufkin erasure?

He was barely in it, and when he was all of that glow that normally radiats from him was all gone. He felt like the husk of a character.

This version of Snufkin was on of my favs, cause you could actually see his flaws and disagree with his actions. He had room to grow, and he did, he truly did.

He learned from Moomin just like Moomin learned from him. Their characters Arcs co align witch each other, their relationship and interactions are the pillars of the entire show. Snufkin and Moomintroll are what make the show proceed.

Finding the 2019 show for the first time as an 18 year old gave me confirmation and trust, that i was allowed to live a soft and slow life as a queer person. If Moomintroll and Snufkin could have that kind of beautiful queer slow burn romance, then i had a chance to as well.

They knew that a big part of their viewers are queer, and they knew how popular Snufmin was. They knew what kind of ppl they attracted, or they wouldnt have made it like that.

All the soft moments, the longing, the zoom in on eye contact, the zoom in on hand holding. They said trust us, they said be patient, and then they threw everything they had been building up out and set fire to it.

We got Queerbaited, and i truly havnt felt this feeling for a while. We got actual queer shows now, ofc they all end up being cancelled! But they exist!

This show felt like it was crafted with so much love and care, that i completely let my guard down. The entire queer Moomin community did a 5 year long trustfall, just to hit the floor the last second.

Season 4 of Moominvalley felt empty. It felt lost of all care and love. The first 3 seasons felt handcrafted by warm hands, season 4 felt machine made. Easy to digest, with no real soul.

Season 4 of Moominvalley feels souless.

I have chosen to live in a world where Comet in Moominvalley is a prequal to s4 and that s4 is a prequal to s1. The true last season was S3 and Moominvalley ended with Snufkin and Moomin walking arm in arm. Thats the only way i can Rationalize everything.

I have so much more to say, but ill stop here for now. Hope all of you are doing okay<3

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

In A Week's Time: Elliott x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex, creampies

Summer. A scorching summer season had settled amongst the valley. Where others saw a reason to just flock to the beach and wade in the oceans or to take advantage of the museum’s better quality air conditioner, you had been excited for this season to make profits. Sure, you had made a good profit off of spring’s fresh crops what of strawberries and parsnips and bulbs of garlic all in a row; it was summer you were waiting for as well as many other farmers around. You could just imagine your crop fields full of patches of blueberries and of melons, peach and orange trees in full bloom as well as stalks of hops to keep the kegs full of aging beer (and let’s not get started about the starfruit patches to which you’ll be turning into wine by the end of their respected harvest).

You were out of bed before Elliott - which was rare as he’s used to waking with the gulls cawing horribly before the sun even rises over the ocean’s shore. The writer’s eyes prying open to see you already out the door, flowing auburn hair a mess against the soft pillow covers, sticking to his chiseled face as he watched on in confusion as you bolted out of the front door. He squinted, grumbling something under his breath about how eager you were and quickly followed behind you.

The early summer morning breeze was cool, crisp, inviting as you overlooked the expanse of your farm from your porch. The sun barely peeking over the trees of the forest bordering the outskirts of the farm, bits of orange rays poking through, and twinkling off of the iridium sprinklers littered around, scarecrows still standing tall, protecting the now empty fields of dead spring crops.

The front door opened behind you, you peered over your shoulder to see your beloved husband standing there, squinting as the sun slowly rises over the horizon and spill into the farm. You always loved how squinty-eyed he was when he wakes, hair tied back. He was always so handsome, even when he had just woken up. You giggled, remembering how he had woken up when the spring had started and you had woken early to start planting the usual plots of strawberries, parsnips, and beans. The poor man had his shirt on backwards and nearly had his shoes on the wrong feet before you helped correct him. It was always so sweet of him to wake up early with you every crop season to help you clear and plant and water with you.

“My darling?” he mumbled behind you.

“It’s summer, Elliott! Time for the biggest harvests of the year!” you proclaimed, puffing your chest out proudly.

“I’ll make coffee,” he nodded, leaving the front door open to allow your cat to slip outside and happily trot towards the barn and coop towards the south exit of your farm that leads to Marnie’s ranch.

Around midday, you had retired back to the house where Elliott was waiting, radiating with excitement. He had just come back two hours ago from Pierre’s store with many bags of seeds roped around his hands and wrists for you to start sowing. You climbed the stairs and overlooked the expanse of your farm with your husband. You both took in the tilled dirt ready to be watered after lunch. You were both excited to slowly be able to see the dull beige and browns and ochres of the farm’s soil to slowly bloom vibrant greens and pinks and blues and yellows of fresh vegetation by the end of the season.

“Tired, my darling?” he stepped inside, allowing you to pass into your home.

“Not yet,” you hummed.

“Good! I have wonderful news I’d love for you to hear,” he chimed.

“Oh? And what would that be, Elliott?”

Leading you towards the kitchen, you noticed a large, square vanilla envelope bent in a slight curve. A glass mixing bowl sat a little ways away, most likely used to press out the envelope. It was opened, the obvious tear towards the top of the envelope, the contents gently pushed back inside. What looked to be a single sheet of paper was inside.

“Do you remember the genre of book you’ve inspired me to write, my love?” Elliott hummed.

You could remember that day clearly. Nearly two seasons had passed, the end of the scorching summer was settled on the land, the valley preparing for fall. The weather had cooled just a tad, but it was enough to warrant you a trip down to the beach for a dip in the ocean. Your crops were all done for the season, every last bundle of blueberries plucked, every melon uprooted, hot peppers and tomatoes picked from every patch you had planted. You were done for the rest of the season when it had come to the farm.

But as soon as you arrived at the beach, you had immediately lost all focus upon seeing Elliott’s cabin. You had been meaning to visit, and before you could even realize it, you were knocking at his front door. The poet was surprised to see you, emerald green eyes widening in pure delight at the sight of a new visitor.

Auburn hair tied back by a vibrant green ribbon, delicate locks not long enough framed his face nicely. Sharp jawline freshly shaved, not a single hair missed nor a single blemish on his healthy tanned skin. A loose white button-up long sleeve shirt sat unbuttoned a bit on the top. His shirt had been tucked into a pair of loose black slacks. If you hadn’t been blushing at the sight of a man as handsome as Elliott, you would’ve questioned him on why he decided to dress like a pirate.

Instead, he had roped you into an elegant conversation, allowing you to step into his cabin. Enchanted with his delicate words, you soon found yourself staring at him as he looked at you, groomed dark brows pulled up slightly as he waited for your answer.

He smirked as you shook your head slightly, clearing the fog from your mind as you suddenly found yourself in an embarrassing position.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Elliott simply chuckled softly. His silky voice filled your ears before he glanced back at you, a smile still tugging on his chiseled lips. Yoba, they looked so soft.

“It’s this awful heat. I find myself losing my words too. I was asking you your favorite genre to read.”

“Oh!” You felt your stomach tighten into even tighter knots. “I… Romance I guess. I haven’t really had a lot of time to sit down and read something proper like an actual book. Maybe a news article on my phone or something but…”

“Romance? Ah, a classic form of literature! I find myself sinking into romantic novels myself, especially during a storm.”

“Romance,” you hummed.

He pulled the single piece of thick paper from the envelope, still a little curved from its time spent in the mailbox since early this morning.

“It’s a very short notice for such big news, but I’ve been invited to do a reading tour for the book you’ve inspired me to write.”

He handed you the piece of paper.

It was from his publisher, a full schedule on the bottom of the short notice. Every day was packed with readings to signings and meetups, all scheduled for one week.

Next week.

“You’re leaving Saturday,” you noted the date stamped at the very bottom, the following Sunday being his return.

“I am. But only for one week, my radiance.” He paused for a moment, you looked up at him with wide eyes full of excitement. “Will you be alright? I’ll be gone for one week and it’s already the start of a new crop season for us-”

“Go on it! This is what you’ve wanted, yeah? I’ll be fine!”

Elliott stared at you with slight shock, soon melting into a warm smile full of absolute love.

“I’ll be here for the rest of the week, though. I’ll still be here to help water what is not covered, help with your animals.”

You nodded and looked back down at the paper in your hands. You noticed the time to leave on Saturday is missing.

“When do you leave Saturday?”

“I believe before noon.”

Elliott produced one round-trip bus ticket from the envelope. The same company that brought you here to Pelican Town a little over two years ago.

Lo and behold, he would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning.

Elliott plucked the schedule and ticket from your hands and placed them back on the counter. He quickly replaced the empty space between your hands, he filled them with his own. Grasping them tightly with his own, he pulled you closer to him.

His hands were strong, skin soft, fingertips scarred slightly from countless papercuts he’s given himself from binge-reading new and old books on rainy days as well as spending countless and stressful days writing, editing, and rereading his work that he’ll now read to many people out there in the world. You loved how nice his hands felt, warm, but not too warm to make your hands overheat. His hands were bigger than yours, enveloping them with their strong warmth as he pulled you closer until you both were pressed flush up against each other.

You caught whiffs of him. You always loved how Elliott smelled, from his shampoo and conditioner to the subtle hints of his aftershave and cologne. Pomegranate was the main node you would get (it was really the fruit that had started your acquaintance with him when he asked if you grew them on the farm) but he would also always smell somewhat like the sea. Sea salt in the ocean breeze, fresh and alive, and inviting like the ocean on a hot summer’s day.

And looking at your husband before you, you could feel your body heat up even more. His hands slowly rising in temperature, slowly roasting your fingers and palms still a little cool from handling your iridium hoe. You swore you could feel little tingles sparking between the minute gaps between your fingers and palms, fireworks, explosions of nerves edging you both further and further closer to the end of the cliff until-

You both suddenly found yourselves suddenly tangled in each other’s limbs. Bodies pressed flush up against each other, no room between your persons. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, stomachs with no gaps between, legs struggling to stand up properly and support each other.

Your hands snatched at the collar of Elliott’s button-up, crisp and clean with no wrinkles in sight now sat crumbled in your grasping hands. Your fingers flexing, suddenly releasing the collar to claw and crawl to his broad shoulders, snatching at the thin, soft material by the handful, pulling him closer if that was any more possible.

Elliott’s passion placed into his display of affections always seemed to catch you off guard. You knew Elliott was a passionate man the moment you met him, but as you grew to knew him and quickly fell for him, you learned that Elliott and romance went together like Gus and any event where he’s able to serve the town. Elliott always made you feel loved, always made you feel beautiful. He may look like he belongs on the front of a romance novel cover with his god-like appearance, but damn it all if he doesn’t know how to absolutely ravish you as the books would suggest.

One of Elliott’s strong hands had come to the back of your head, agile fingers gently grasping at the back of your head, fingers wrapped around your locks, locking your heads together. The other went around to behind your shoulders. He grabbed at the back of your shirt, a fistful of cloth fabric teasing him whereas he teased you with a few tugs, threatening to rip your shirt right off of your body without another thought.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he would have done that.

Elliott’s lips seemed to be made for yours. Every kiss was perfect.

Elliott softly moaned into the kiss, the swaying weight between you two nearly had your legs fumbling, nearly allowing the two of you to fall over yourselves. Elliott pulled away for just a moment, emerald green eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment, lust filling his gorgeous hues the more he looked at you, a faint pink blush dashing over his chiseled cheeks. You could feel your face heating up as well, the apples of your cheeks suddenly scorching just looking at him right here, nose to nose with your loving husband.

He had quickly pulled you into another kiss, lips tenderly pressing against yours in a passionate embrace, lulling your legs to finally be able to move towards the bedroom.

It was sloppy, your backs pressing against the walls of the short hallway connecting the living room to your shared bedroom. Elliott had you pinned to the wall at one point, your head pushed to the side, mouth open as soft mewls and moans escaping from your slick lips as Elliott sucked at the nape of your neck. His large, strong hands were squeezing your wrists, your fingers limp yet curling as you felt him pressed his clothed erection brush against your person.

You both had managed to tear yourselves from the wall, suddenly another mess of tangled arms, hands grasping in hair and snatching at clothing until Elliott’s nimble fingers had finally dipped under the bottom hem of your shirt, carefully peeling the hem up into a small curl of fabric until he could firmly grab at it with both hands. With a swift and sudden pull of his hands, you had suddenly found yourself topless in the sights of your beloved.

Flushing under his emerald gaze, Elliott had paused for a brief moment to look over your body, eyes scanning your form, lust slowly consuming his features the more he gazed at your form with fluttering eyes. Elliott hummed deep within his throat, hands coming up to cup at your shoulders. Hooking his thumbs under the straps of your bra, he delicately slid them off of the curve of your shoulders and crawled his fingers to the hooks behind your back. Your bra quickly came undone in his hands, the delicate lingerie now sliding off of your body with a tug of his agile hands and carelessly tossed over his shoulder.

The sight of your naked breasts alone was enough for Elliott to start to unravel more and more.

A coy little smirk fell upon your lips as you saw out of the corner of your eye the tenting in his pants, noting how the fabric was tightening more and more as the seconds ticked by.

“I hardly think it’s fair for you to still be dressed while you’re stripping off all of my clothes,” you pointed out.

“My dearest, I believe you’re right. How rude of me.”

Elliott had complied with your statement, but he was a little shit. Nimble fingers that had just ravaged your top and bra off of your person within just a few seconds, had plucked the top two buttons of his shirt apart at a snail’s pace; All with a devilish look in his eye as looked directly at you.

You flung yourself at him, hands grabbing the collar of his button-up and pulling his close to connect your lips once more. Elliott’s hands moved from his shirt to grip at the sides of your head firmly, sinking his fingers into the locks of your hair. Your hands fumbled down to the rest of the buttons, fingers struggling to pluck them apart one by one until you had no more to unbutton. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest and abdomen, lightly sun-kissed skin, toned generously as the lean muscle under your fingertips flexed softly at your bare touch.

Elliott shrugged his button-up off of his shoulders and tossed it aside, the hunk of material sliding against the hardwood floors.

Elliott advanced towards you, pushing you backwards until the back of your knees bumped into the lip of the bed. You stumbled back a bit, losing your balance and falling back into the mattress, your body bouncing a bit as you landed on the springy mattress. Elliott smirked, enjoying as your breasts bounced with you.

Elliott’s graceful fingers moved from your shoulders downward, fingers dancing down your body, past the curve of your breasts, and digging gently into the soft skin of your stomach until his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants. The button had suddenly slipped free and the zipper had been pulled down.

Elliott had leaned forward, you softly gasped when you felt his warm lips press gentle kisses down the center of your torso in a straight line, going from the bottom of your neck to in between the space of your breasts down to your belly button all while he had wrestled your pants out from under your rear. He worked your trousers down the length of your legs, eventually hitching them off from where they bunched up at your ankles and allowed the trousers to flop onto the floor, all while he was still trailing kisses right down your center.

He briefly looked up at you under a near curtain of auburn locks, emerald green hues amused at your heated face, wonderful lips smirking as you softly begged him to keep going.

His index fingers hooked around the delicate upper hemline of your underwear. Twisting his fingers just a bit to secure the hemline, he slowly pulled downwards, peeling your panties away from your pussy and down the length of your legs, soon joining your pants on the floor. The sight of you dripping wet, heat blooming from between your legs stirred Elliott onwards, but he remained collected; no matter how much he wished to absolutely ravage your body.

Elliott had stood up, you whined a bit as you immediately missed the feeling of his lips trailing up and down your torso, worshipping you, ravishing you with his soft kisses.

Your loving husband gripped the waistband of his own trousers and fiddled with the buckle of his leather belt. Shiny brass clicking a little at him fiddling and soon the long strip of punched leather slid out from the belt loops of his black slacks and was tossed onto your trousers pooling at his feet. You watched on in awe as he slowly dipped his hands under the waistband for just a brief second before plucking apart the button of his own pants and pulling the zipper down, revealing straining boxer-briefs.

You flushed at the outline hidden inside the confinements of his underwear. Cock straining, erect, yet tortured to be stuck into tightening underwear.

The black slacks dropped to the floor, Elliott nudging both his trousers and yours off to the side of the bed just out of the way. The matching black boxer-briefs looked awfully tight, you could only imagine the struggle Elliott was going through as he looked over your delightful form.

A few locks of auburn hair drifted out of place, some sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead while the others hung loose in his face, covering his eyes slightly. A faint blush still settled on his cheeks as he looked down at you with half-lidded eyes full of lust and desire.

“Elliott,” you cooed, your body heating up.

Your gut was coiling, heat pooling more around your pussy, your stomach feeling full of butterflies. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, feel your blood roaring with life.

You needed him inside of you now.

“My dear (Y/n), what do you need?” he purred, still eyeing you as if you were nothing else but prey.

“You,” you whimpered.

“And what do you want me to do?” he teased, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a coy smile.

“I want you to fuck me into this mattress.”

You swore you could see something snap inside of Elliott. The once calm and collected writer you called a husband seemingly snapped. You could no longer see the emerald in his eyes. The sea of lovely green now consumed by his pupils blown wide.

It was a good thing you both live on a farm, a good walking distance away from the rest of Pelican Town, otherwise, you and Elliott would be looking at many noise complaints from the rest of the town.

You watched as he snatched off his boxer-briefs, the poor man-handled fabric flung away, no longer in your line of sight.

What was in your line of sight, however, was your husband’s cock springing outwards, now free of its confinements.

You only had mere seconds to gaze at it before Elliott had pinned you to the mattress, the man hovering over you, hands pinning your shoulders to the mattress, impaling you with his cock.

A moan lodged in your throat, choking slightly as you cried out in pleasure at the tightness. Elliott gave a satisfied groan as well, broad shoulders sagging for just a mere moment to lose himself in the sea of pleasure he found himself in.

You loved how Elliott’s cock fit inside of you so perfectly, it was like to was made for you. His cock was large, thick, always stretching your tight pussy just right. Just the feeling of being stretched had you whining, clawing at the sheets by the handful. Your head rocked back into the mattress, cradled by the bunched up sheets under your head and neck. Your eyes screwed shut at the painful stretch.

Elliott moaning softly, panting against your chest. His long auburn locks had spilled across your sweaty chest, thick strands clinging to your breasts, pooling on your person for a brief moment as Elliott had dipped his head to revel in the feeling of his cock in your tight pussy.

He craned his head back up, looking down at your sweaty face, mouth wide open as you cried and mewled under him. A wild smirk spread across his lips.

He was generous enough to give you a quick second to adjust to the tight stretch before he had started to slowly piston his hips.

The back of your head curled into the sheets piled underneath you more, your throat stretching, baring more skin to him. Elliott had leaned back down again, still pistoning his hips at a slow rate to enjoy the tight feeling of your slick walls around his cock.

Your guts were knotted with lust, only wanting you to raise your hips and match him with his thrusts, meet his cock thrusting inwards with you lifting your hips up, wanting your sexes to slap together, to rock the bed and make it groan like you normally do together. You loved how wild and powerful Elliott could be in bed.

Elliott’s hands snatched at your hips, nails digging into the soft skin. You whimpered at the bite of crescent moons, loving the pain adding on to the pleasure bubbling inside of your person. Each thrust seemed to make your organs knot closer together, made the coils heat up, and tighten. Your moans only spurred him to speed up once he had given you ample time to adjust to the tightness inside of you.

Elliott had let go of your hips, favoring to trap the sides of your head by placing his hands out flat against the ruffles and rumples of the sheets now bunched under the back of your skull, careful not to snag at any of your locks. His grip on the sheets tightened, supporting him better as he rocked his hips back and forth at a great pace, pounding into you like a machine powered by pistons.

He had dipped his head down to meet your parted lips. He groaned into the cavity of your mouth, wincing and tightening his grip on the sheets as your walls had clamped down on his cock. You could hear the sheets creaking, the soft fabric stretching and compressing under the intense grip Elliott was putting it through until he had released it just a touch.

He pressed hot, open-mouth kisses all around your face. He trailed kisses along the curve of your jaw all the way back to your earlobes where he would nip and gently tug at them. He would trail a sloppy line down the curve of your neck, grazing the columns of your throat with his teeth. He definitely had produced a good amount of hickies along your neck and upper chest, so much to possibly warrant a turtleneck at the beginning of summer if you were to have made any plans of going out in public. He had even gently sunk his teeth into the soft plush of one of your breasts, enjoying the little squeaks you produced as your clawed at Elliott’s back and grabbed at his broad shoulders.

Once he had deemed he had marked you up enough, he had only continued to ramp up his pace until you suddenly choke at the speed. You gasped, feeling your passageway clamp down on him once more, your husband crying out in pleasure and tossing his head back to revel in the feelings spiking through him.

You cried out, feeling the coils inside of you tighten even more, now white-hot as the seed about to enter your womb pretty soon as your climax was fast approaching.

You caught sight of Elliott’s eyes, emerald hues still missing, lost in a sea of black. His pupils dilated, still-full blown with lust, looking as though he had captured a starless sky in his eyes.

It was hypnotic, and the thundering of your blood in your ear like war drums had only added on to the pressure building up in your core. The splitting pressure inside of you had you squeezing your eyes closed, wincing, a soft moan passing through grit teeth as a wave of painful pleasure rattled through you, only tightening the coils inside of you even more.

Elliott was unraveling as well, auburn locks falling in his face, hiding his reddened and sweaty rugged face behind the curtain of his groomed mane. His shoulders tensed, lean muscle flexing in his shoulders and biceps, veins poking against his lightly tanned skin. His thrusts had gone from fast and passionate to sporadic and sloppy, longing and yearning to finally release inside of you.

A sudden eruption of heat spilled from between your legs, a massive release of pent up pain and turned to pleasure. A lewd moan had spilled from your open mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Elliott groaned above you, riding and thrusting into your slickening pussy, only allowing him to lose himself to his gaining lust.

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy, weighed down by bones seemingly made of lead and iridium, allowing you to sink into the plush comfort of the mattress as Elliott continuously pounded into your pussy without fail. The man of many elegant words had crippled down to only guttural moans and heavy groans. He could barely make any other noises, he was too busy chasing his won climax. He huffed and puffed in your ears, shoulders shaking as he pistoned his hips back and forth like a well-oiled machine.

It had nearly been another full minute before you felt the slight twitch inside of your passageway, his cock stiffening ever so slowly in between the rushed thrusts of his hips. His thrusts were growing sloppier by the thrust, the bed groaning under the two of you as it rocked with each thrust. The two of you were a flurry of moans and lingering kisses, Elliott occasionally kissing down your jaw or sucking at your neck. Your pussy still slick with your sweet only allowed him to seemingly thrust faster inside of you, you could feel his cock twitch a bit more.

He was going to cum quickly.

His hands on either side of your head snatched at more of the rumpled bedsheets, twisting as his back arched downwards. With each thrust, there was no room left between your two persons, no air gaps between your sexes, drawing his cock nearly out of you only to slam right back into you without mercy. You swore you were drooling, trapped in the starry bliss clouding your mind, still chasing the joys of your climax as he only ravaged your pussy more and more.

The stiffer he got, the sloppier he got with his thrusts until hot milky white suddenly erupted from Elliott’s cock, the man coming with a choked shout. His shoulders curled up into his neck, head shooting back, auburn locks spilling over his broad shoulders and you milked every last drop of semen out of his cock still buried inside of you.

You cried, mewled as you felt the fullness inside of you, only to exhale as Elliott’s cock had slid right out of your passageway, his semen following quickly after to spill onto the bed.

Elliott nearly collapsed on top of your worn person, the man of elegance managing to roll himself to land right next to you. He draped one of his tanned arms over your body, the meat of his arm over your breasts so his hand could reach under your armpit, dragging you closer to his sweaty chest. You both laid there panting, hearts racing as moments ticked by, the thrill of your orgasms slowly riding down as you both looked at each other in the eye. Sweaty faces, blushed at the cheeks and noses, you both couldn’t help the small and loving smiles spreading across your faces. You both looked at each other through the messy, frizzy locks clinging to your sweaty faces. A good shower was to be put in order now, but it would have to wait.

You shivered, still feeling his hot seed spilling slowly out between your nether lips, tangling with the sheets under your person, a mess you would both clean in just a moment.

You stood there by the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive with your husband right by your side. You could tell he was nervous, he would always toy with his long locks when he was. He had even pulled his hair back and tied it to try and stop himself from fiddling with his luscious auburn locks, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous, and rightfully so!

He was going to be gone for a week, reading for his adoring fans, signing autographs, meeting new and important people.

You took his hand, startling the man out of his daydream. Wide emerald eyes looking at you for a mere second before he seemingly calmed down… just a bit.

“You’ll do great out there. I promise,” you smiled. “Just breathe, remember to stay calm and you’ll do great.”

Elliott smiled warmly at you. He only wished you could come along with him, join him on this adventure he was going to have, but you had a farm to take care of, animals to raise and crops to tend to so you can help feed the town.

You had your responsibilities, and now, he did too. This would open up a lot of doors, a lot of opportunities to expand his craft, make good relationships and business partners, spread the word about his writing more and more.

He only wished he could have you by his side. After all, you were his biggest inspiration for finishing his book. This was all because of you; Because you had introduced yourself to him your first day of arriving at Pelican Town, because you took up his many requests on the wanted board in front of Pierre’s, because you had taken the time to get to know him, to give him many wonderful gifts, to give him the mermaid’s pendant… You had spoken to him nearly every day, no matter if you were covered in dirt from the farm or covered in slime and bits of dead bugs and whatever horrors you had slain in the mines, you made it your goal to befriend him, to stick your muddy boot through his cabin door and get to know him. Even now, the mermaid’s pendant sat heavily against his throat, the polished silver chain choking him with suspense as he started to worry.

What if something happened and he wasn’t here to help? What if something happened to the farm? It’s summer, storms would surely come to try and wreck the farm. What if you were caught outside? What if you were caught in the barns? What if you got hurt and he wasn’t there to help you? To protect you?

The bus had rolled down the street and stopped right in front of you both. You both eyed each other one last time before you fully turned to him, Elliott doing the same.

Now face to face with your husband, you reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. You could feel your throat tightening up just a tad as he wrapped his strong arms around your person, a quick press of his lips against your cheekbone.

“I promise to write to you every day, my radiance,” he murmured into your ear.

“Every day?”

“Every day without fail.”

“I love you, Elliott.”

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

The doors to the bus swung open, the bus driver not even looking in your direction at first.

Elliott pulled away only to press his lips to yours. The kiss was so full of passion for how brief it had to be without keeping the bus driver and the other bus occupants waiting.

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. You could see the yearning for him to stay with you, but you both knew this was coming sooner or later.

“Be careful, yeah?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

And with that, Elliott picked up his (overstuffed) suitcase and carry-on bag and set off into the bus.

You watched on with a reassuring smile as Elliott sat down at the window facing you. You followed the bus as far down the sidewalk as you could until there was no walkway left. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the bus was slowly swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, heading towards the city.

With a soft sigh, you glanced down at the mermaid pendant sitting around your neck. You gently grasped the shimmering blue twisted shell and gazed back at the tunnel.

You ignored the biting, bitter feeling bubbling in your gut, wrinkling your nose at the sensation of dread wafting around your mind, and turned to follow the trail back to your farm.

Maybe if you busied yourself with farm work and the mines and whatever foraging you could find, the week would fly by quickly and Elliott would return to you sooner than you would think.

Upon arriving at the farm, you sighed. You knew the farm felt emptier the moment you stepped foot on the land. Even as your cat brushed around your leg and trotted towards the barn and coop, you hoped time would fly by quickly.

Picking up the milking bucket and shears from the chest by your house, you followed behind your faithful kitty, attempting to busy your lonely mind with work until your beloved author returned to you.

[johanna-swann]

A few words about Eddie (bold lie, it's many words)

I used to really enjoy Eddie. I was never a huge fan of him as an individual character, but I always thought he had incredibly interesting relationships. With his parents, his son, his wife, his best friend, his aunt, ... and since a lot of his story lines are centred around his family I obviously enjoyed those. But all of that aside: Even when I actually dislike a character I get upset when their plots are bullshit.

Like, I absolutely cannot stand Captain America in the mcu (Steve Rogers, not Sam. Sam is cool, I love him. I also respect comic book Steve.), but he deserved so much better than whatever the fuck Avengers Endgame did with him. And just like I got upset over the ending they gave Steve in the mcu I'm upset over what 911 did with Eddie in season 8.

I was not enthusiastic about the Kim plot to begin with because I'd hoped we were finally ready to let Eddie move on from Shannon. But at least it was still fun right, in a ridiculous telenovela way. Sure, the dead (sorta ex) wife's doppelgänger shows up and he has a platonic affair with her. Why not.

Then before going into season 8 they escalated that situation, got rid of Marisol and split Eddie and Christopher up. I know there were behind the scenes reasons, Marisol's actress was transphobic, Christopher's actor was not available for a bit there if I remember correctly and since Eddie has in large parts always defined himself over his role as a father I thought: "Hey, maybe they can make this work in Eddie's favour. Do something interesting with him by isolating him a little." I would've thought it more logical if Christopher had stayed with a relative in LA like Tía Pepa or if he had come back sooner, but if the actor isn't available for a big plot, what can you do?

So yeah, I was okay with Christopher not coming back until 8b and with him living in Texas. Because it gave the show an opportunity to look at Eddie and figure out who he is outside of a father and a widower. What does he do with himself and with his free time when he suddenly has no distractions and has to confront parts of himself he hasn't looked at in years, maybe ever.

I thought we might get a deep dive into Eddie's early adulthood. Maybe we'd see him go to therapy again. They were so happy to have Shannon's actress back on board in season 7, how about some flashbacks? Because I always thought that this great romance, love of Eddie's life, magical soulmates thing was a lie he told himself. Eddie was a high schooler who fell in love with the girl he knew from middle school and then suddenly they had to make it work in the real, grown-up world because she was pregnant. They got pregnant on accident, they married because they had to, Eddie immediately joined the army and was gone for the next 4 years, then they switched and Shannon left without a warning. In between they argued constantly, barely lived under the same roof at the same time, struggled with money and got additional pressure from Eddie's family. Which part of that was so magical that Eddie is still yearning for it?

I would've loved for Eddie to finally take off the rose-coloured glasses and realise that while he loved Shannon their relationship was anything but perfect and if he ever wants to have a healthy dating life ever again he can't keep putting their marriage on this pedestal. He needs to make his peace with Shannon, accept the ugly parts of their shared history, forgive her, forgive himself and truly move on. We could've had all of that.

What did the show do with Eddie in 8a instead? Glad you asked. You see, they had him grow a mustache, act out a hilariously contrived juice metaphor (that scene was written so so badly), come out as straight to a priest, shave the 'stache and dance in his underwear in that one scene. Yeah, powerful interesting stuff.

But okay, 8a was a dumpster fire for all characters start to finish, surely 8b can only be better and we're finally getting to the part where Eddie actually does something to work on his relationship with Christopher. It can only go uphill from here, right?

Right. So Eddie BUYS a house in El Paso. Never mind that he rented in LA for 7 years, he buys a house in El Paso immediately. He arrives in Texas to work on his relationship with his son. The last two times we saw Chris he barely wanted to speak with Eddie, so this will probably be difficult. But wait, what do you say? Christopher isn't actually upset with Eddie anymore? They don't even need to talk about what happened with Kim? The real problem was actually Eddie's evil mother all along even though she had nothing to do with the fight between Eddie and Chris? Sure, that makes sense! Glad we cleared that up!

Like. Right when it seemed like they were FINALLY getting to the part where they process the season 7 finale they skip over that whole mess and also leave Eddie out of 3 entire episodes. And I'll be honest, those were 3 very good episodes, I didn't exactly miss him. Especially with the lab two parter it would've been difficult to involve him in a meaningful way. But I hoped we'd get a GOOD Eddie story line in 8b. Instead we got. That.

Now Eddie's back, but instead of getting a scene where they show (don't tell) us how Eddie feels about losing Bobby they just give him one line where he flat out states that he "should've been there" and that's it. That's his only scene this episode other than the funeral montage.

Again, I'm not a huge Eddie fan, I didn't miss him per se, but even I very much noticed his absence (it was not sublte) and as far as I know he's still a main character, yes? Like, I'm upset on behalf of the Eddie fans. They've done some interesting stuff with all the other characters in 8b or at least they're about to.

Maddie got serial killer plot plus aftermath and is about to have a second child. Buck reconnected with Tommy, that relationship is still going back and forth a bit and I think he might have a breakdown before the season is over. Chimney has survivor's guilt and has to figure out how to live with that while he's also becoming a father again. Hen had an admittedly shitty B-plot about people forgetting her birthday, but now she might become Captain. Bobby literally died. Athena has to cope with that and there was something about keeping her tethered to the 118 coming up?

What did Eddie get? He got sidelined. And a repeat of the fight he already had with his mother in season 2/Eddie begins. We have no idea what's next for Eddie, he had nothing important to do in season 8 and they completely retconned what the Texas arc was supposed to be about.

[mars-barsz]

In this essay I will talk about how Rick could have made Jason a more interesting character to more people

Im not joking, Drews is next and why she really wasnt that bad of a person, just a traumatized teen

CW FOR MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU HAVENT FINISHED ALL THE BOOKS!!!!

Starting off I fully believe most people didn't like Jason because he was a random new guy, like we were expecting Percy and got some amnesiac and didn't get to see out hero happy and living his life for the entire book, and he was so confused most the time, because he fully didn't remember anything, he wasn't even given the same fake memories to try and act normal, he didn't know his own name when he woke up on that bus, we had to personality to go off of at the start, because HE DIDNT KNOW WHO HE WAS! People always say Leo was the best out of the lost trio and that's because so many people could relate to him, he used humor to cover stuff up, like everyone's favorite mc did (Percy). Piper had her own struggles, like finding out who she thought was her boyfriend, didn't know who she was, she was being manipulated and her dad was being held hostage as she was told to kill her friends, and she AND Leo were in a WILDERNESS SCHOOL. A. WILDERNESS. SCHOOL. I got off topic, sorry, but piper had so many of her own stuff she was working through in the way she thought was correct, by lying and hiding things. Jason had nothing, he knew he didn't remember anything and he was sad. Leo had a personality and was content separate to them, obviously he had issues but he was the most similar to Percy, so fans liked him the most (imo)

Now, onto how rick could have made Jason better

made him actually an awesome fighter, he killed monsters with his bare hands and was raised by wolves since two, he should have been equal to or even better than Percy with muscle memory and all, which yeah he had but he still should have had a more feral side to him, he was said to climb the ranks at camp Jupiter and was a bit more wild than other romans, I think it would have been interesting to see Jason use his instincts more and be a little feral when he lost his memory, not having his camp Jupiter training but muscle memory and instincts to guide him and keep him going

He should have been more separated from Percy, he was not a comparison to Percy and I don't like that was how he was written, I don't have much to say about this but I really didn't like when they both sat at the head of the table

He should have gotten his memories back like percy did, He never got to learn who he was or what he stood for in the past because he never got to get those back, even after the war ended hera/juno didnt return them, which I think would have made a really interesting ending to TLH, or getting them during the quest or something, but he dies without knowing who he was, only a pawn for the gods

Have had mention of him previously, like a picture thalia had and thats why she even agreed to bring annabeth, because she reminded her of jason, or just that she even HAD a little brother so readers could have had a fun plot twist and even more of a heart warming reuniting scene

Adding to that a bit i think thalia and jason really should have had more time together, like maybe in toa mentioning that thalia had been visiting jason when she could to catch up on lost time, to be siblings again and try to live as normally as possible. (off topic but i think the jason/luke comparisons are 50/50, i like others seeing it and Thalia at first but removing the idea immediately because at one point she liked luke and jason is her baby brother)

Let him be awake during fight scenes

I think jason could have grown more, and adapted a mix of fighting, a bit roman, a bit greek, and a bit feral, to match how his life was

when we see him in toa i think it would have been fun to see how much he had grown, experimenting with new styles (maybe a bit more alt considering his older sister, but he was at a boys school so maybe outside of it?) Just, growing into himself and not focusing on the gods as much, he lived and died for them, without much in return

Let us know who his friends were before he lost his memories, like have percy seens people asking around or being asked if he had seen a blonde gut about yae high, named jason, just stuff like that to show he had a community or at least someone who truly cared he was gone

Ik it was more of a list but yk, also sorry for the lack of punctuation, i forget it exists unless its an excessive amounts of commas, i like commas, and forget to capitalize my I's

Thanks for coming to my ted talk

[elainsgirl]

I don’t understand how antis say that elucien has as much foreshadowing as elriel. Apart from the unwanted mating bond what romantic moments do they have.

Alright, let’s count without being biased:

Ig him giving Elain his coat in Acomaf? I think thats the absolute bare minimum but for some odd reason its romantacised?

wanting too leave Spring to see if Elain was worth fighting for Elain.

erm. Hmm. Lucien telling them to take Elain out of the house and outside…which Amren and Madja also said

”she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…she was nothing like Jesminda, Elain had been thrown at him”

Elain taking that halfstep towards him, it wS serving the good angst

A smile blooming on Elains face when she sees Lucien

Lucien fighting his way through the battlefield for her

and them having a conversation in the end of acowar together without anyone else present

Luciens gifts towards Elain if you ignore the fact her smile faded afterwards and she liked none of them enough to use them

I mean some *I* don’t find romantic and the books canonically does not place any significance on more then half these scenes so if we’re going by the books only and whats written to be romantic - 5-8 everything else is twisted interpretation. Now, The *only* foreshadowing that gives some leeway to elucien is Elains connection to sunlight and Lucien being an heir to day HOWEVER neither are connected together through sunlight together and you have to ignore Luciens autumn and fire imagery as that does not fit elucien in anyway. Along w Mass writing the line, “Lord of fire and Bird of Flame” between Vassien. With elucien, you have to disregard a lot of canon context to find some of their scenes romantic hence why you often find elucien’s purposely twisting quotes and scenes to show it in a better light

Ofc let’s look at some elriel scenes, *just from acowar* 1. Elain calling Azriels scars beautiful and not balking away from hin -> he blushes = romantic coded scene

2. Elain and Az chilling together in the garden -> Feyre looking at them and THEN questioning elucien’s bond, “why not make them matss?” - scene written to be significant.

3. Azriel mirroring Cass and going still at the sight of Elain -> we know how Cass feels about Nesta at this point, by having Az copy Cassians action for Elain it places both couples on the same romantic scale - again a purposeful choice by Sjm

4. “A seer” -> Az figuring out what was amiss w elain, Madja said only a mate can do so, so again written to be significant especially when you parallel it to Lucien standing there clueless

5. “You came for me?” -> significant moment for Elain, It wasn’t her mate that came but Azriel

6. Azriel cradling Elain to his chest despite swaying and bleeding

7. Elain rising to her toes and giving him a peck on the cheek -> no need for that, romantically coded again

8. The whole scene where Az gave her truthteller. THAT was written to be monumental, “Death and the lovely fawn” - I would not say this is typically romantic HOWEVER It is peak elriel foreshadowing and lore for their plotline w the prison.

With Elucien, thats all across 4 books. With elriel thats just ONE out of FOUR books. And ALL four books contain even more romantic elriel foreshadowing and plot. 1, 3, 6 and 7 are romantically coded and written. Its not something anyone can argue about. Its the standard formula for a couple written to be romantic and you can find this formula in any romance book. 2, 5 and 8 are significant scenes especially as they’re brought up again within the books, like you can’t argue against the importance of these scenes. As for 4 - its a stark parallel between Lucien and Elain, showing who understands her more.

so no. Elucien may have had some foreshadowing in acomaf and spread thinly throughout acowar but it no where near rivals Elriels scenes and foreshadowing especially as elriels’ are ones written to be remembered and significant. Eluciens aren’t.

[fedoraspooky]

I'm curious, what were the events that led to Jabber draining a toon in front of others? Since he's trying not to draw attention to himself and all.

He didn't! When i mentioned the other players' reactions were priceless, I was talking about the other players and not their characters. XD

You see, while working at Googie's Diner, Jabber had sorta befriended a mouse npc named Scrabbles. They were occasional co-conspirators for causing mischief and snagging free food from said diner, stuff like that. It didn't quite scratch the same itch as getting into trouble with his sibs, but it was better than nothing. Jabber was chatty about almost everything imaginable but he barely ever talked about his personal life, and was certainly not the open book that Scrabbles was, but they were pals at the very least- probably the closest Jabber's had to having a friend.

Since Jabber was fading pretty badly at the start of the game, Scrabbles offered to try and find a way to help him out in exchange for free fries. Said he had friends that could sneak them onto sets just to get a little bit of screen time. Jabber knew it wouldn't be enough to help him- he and his sibs used to sneak onto sets all the time in the early days... But he kept his trap shut and accepted anyway, it would be easier than trying to explain and opening up that whole can of worms. Scrabbles never even knew he had siblings.

At this point in the game, I should add, the other players didn't know who he was an expy of yet, just that he was one. The only things they knew about Jabber at that point were the description I gave of him at the start of the game, how he acted, whatever sparse few things about himself he WAS willing to talk about with Scrabbles and Muddy, and some out of character clues I dropped here and there when we were figuring out character relationships and what the other player characters might already know about him.

As the plot progressed, another player character Kay T.K. (our resident Sesame-Street-esque puppet gal who's show was about making fun crafts AND making friends!) had managed to track down Jabber because she remembered how easily he had snuck into her set during filming once, ages ago... And she needed his help to get a magical artifact that could solve a big problem she was dealing with (her show got bought out by schlock horror studio Buzzsaw Studios and they were reviving her as a mascot horror monster, but she didn't want to keep living in the twisted, scary form they'd given her and just wanted to be her old self again). What's the artifact? Something extremely powerful, that was mostly seen as a myth akin to the Holy Grail...

The Typewriter that writes The Script. Of reality itself.

And somehow, this powerful godly artifact ended up in the hands of Buzzsaw Studios, up at the very tippy top floor under lock and key. Kay T.K. needed someone who could slip past the guards and help her get to it so she could write herself back to normal. And well, if anyone's capable of slipping past security guards and defenses, it'd probably be this toon kid who's been doing it since the 1930s!

Jabber wholeheartedly agreed to help her out, but primarily because he wanted to get his hands on that Typewriter for himself.

If reviving his sibs would take a miracle, then well... He would Take a miracle!

Problem was, he was getting too faded to be of much use. His abilities were severely weakened and at the rate he was going, he'd be gone before their planned heist even started. He needed his strength back, and most importantly he needed to buy himself some more time...

So he got Scrabbles those fries.

Met up with him in the alley outside the diner at night, when everyone had left, and... As Scrabbles snacked happily on them, Jabber thanked him for being such a good friend and, shockingly, finally opened up to him. Told him about his sibs. Told him about how they were created to be zany, but were too much so for the studio's liking. How they were locked away for so long, left to fade away...

But it was all going to be okay now. Because he found a way to fix everything.

And that's when he opened up his jaws, now lined with sharp teeth, and chomped down on him.

SO THERE YOU HAVE IT, THAT WAS THE LOVELY CLIFFHANGER I LEFT MY FRIENDS WITH FOR THE END OF PART 1. Like I said, their reactions? Priceless. XD

[your-unfriendlyghost]

So I’ve read TWTTIN and the outsiders, but I’ve seen a lot of hubbub about Tex and Rumblefish. Are those the only two other SE Hinton books that are worth reading/watching?

I mean there ain’t many others, at least not in this genre/niche yk? I read Taming the Star Runner and Some of Tim’s Stories a few months ago too- I liked Taming the Star Runner fine, maybe more than Rumblefish. Not a lot happened- I mean I barely remember anything about the plot- but I liked the protagonist, he was pretty relatable to the point that it kinda freaked me out lol. It wasn’t as objectively good as Rumblefish, I think- Rumblefish had more to say and maybe some more profound insights- but Rumblefish made me sad. Taming the Star Runner was just…easier to relate to for me, I guess, while Rumblefish was like watching a car accident lol. Both are worth reading though, and the movie for Rumblefish was pretty rad. (Of course I’d say that tho, Tom Waits was in it lol)

Some of Tim’s Stories was…less entertaining for me personally. It wasn’t bad, and I liked the way the protagonist’s inner dialogue read, but it either had too much going on or not enough and I couldn’t tell you which if I tried. You hear the stories, and I guess if someone told me them verbally I’d feel connected, but as a book it just felt like..watching a plot through a window somehow. Like there’s a thick pane of glass between you and the story. God, I dunno. It’s hard to explain.

Then, finally, Tex. My beloved book Tex. I love Tex. It’s not much like The Outsiders, and I don’t like it in the same way that I like The Outsiders- but I still love Tex. It’s like the anti-TWTTIN, opposite in both setting and plot. It’s unhappy in some ways, realistic, and often sad, but like its protagonist, it always finds a way to bounce back. Tex looked at the despair of Rumblefish, the frustration of TWTTIN, and said “What if all these bad things happened and we just kept going? What if we just carried on?” Hinton described Tex himself as the least “tough” but most strong of her protagonists, and I think that that applies somehow to the whole book. It’s painfully relatable in some parts, frustrating, gut wrenching- but in the end, everything is okay. Not perfect, but you know Tex is gonna be alright. It’s a sweet story about a good kid who I loved being in the head of. The movie’s also pretty good.

So uh tl;dr- It’s up to you if Hinton’s other books are worth reading. I read them, and I’m glad I did, even for Some of Tim’s Stories which is probably my least favorite of her books- it was still a good experience, I guess. Idk, her books are what got me to read again after years of not liking books, so I’m biased, but there’s not one on this list that I regret having read.

[chloeillustrates16]

Summery: Years pass, Darry never ended up going to college, trying to get Ponyboy through high school before thinking about anything else. That was until Y/n came back to town four years after starting college Warnings: Swearing, fluff, underage smoking, angst with happy ending, Johnny and Dally lives because I said so, three year time skip from the book, female reader, third person pov, for plot your parents have names, long story Word Count: 3032

The sky turned a blend of orange and yellow as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

Ponyboy sat on the rooftop, Johnny sitting beside him. The comfortable silence between the two boys was broken, "Do you think Darry will go to college after you're done with high school?"

"Probably not; he did say that the only way that he could go originally was because of the Football scholarship, but they gave the scholarship to someone else."

Johnny hummed taking in another drag of his cigarette, his arm lazily over his knee as the ash flicked off from the bud. "Hear anything from Dally?"

"Nah," the two looked at each other before laughing.

Dallas, being Dally, didn't keep his record completely clean after turning 18 years old. He got put in the cooler for minor things now, a couple of fights here and there, and the occasional shoplifting--however, they haven't managed to catch him on those.

"I thought he was going to be put in longer. What was this time?"

"Him and Tim Shepard got into again."

"Again? What he do now?"

Before Johnny could answer a voice yelled from the porch. "Ponyboy, Johnny!" The two boys slid down the roof, landing on the grass below; Sodapop shook his head with a yawn.

Welcome to Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Y/n drove passed the city landscape-shaped sign. It seemed as if the small town had not changed since she'd left. Four years ago, she got accepted into her dream college.

She turned right instead of left, she had a few hours to kill before meeting up with her parents at Tommy's, a family owned restaurant they went to often when she was home.

The nice houses soon turned sun bleached, wooden fenced replaced with metal gates with signs that said: No Trespassing and Beware of Dog.

To most, this would be the bad part of town where gangs roamed the streets, but to her, it was the only thing that screamed home. On the corner, she recognized the small white house with no Ford truck insight.

Parking her Chevy on the side before stepping out, locking the car with her key. She turned the door knob after getting passed the screen door and not to her shock, it opened without hesitation. She stepped inside, calling out.

"Anyone home!"

Her own voice answered in an echo, she looked down the hall to where the owners' bedrooms were, nothing, then the kitchen and living room.

Y/n took a look around the living room. The recliner was still in the same spot as before. Mr. Curtis used to sit and smoke, even though Mrs. Curtis would yell at him. She remembered when she was eight asking what it was he was smoking, he offered it to her jokingly, not expecting her to actually take a drag.

Y/n shook her head with a smile before looking on the floor beside the recliner, the latest newspaper always ended up beside the chair, being knocked off by one of the many rowdy boys that had come in and out of the house daily.

She stepped into the kitchen seeing a picture of 15 year old Ponyboy hanging on the fridge with a magnet. He was holding something that Y/n couldn't make out. She took the paper off the fridge reading the article.

Ponyboy Michael Curtis, 14 years old, writes a book about his experience with juvenile delinquents: Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston in the best selling novel THE OUTSIDERS.

Y/n saw the words juvenile delinquents crossed out writing heroes at the top instead. She could tell immediately that it was Sodapop's handwriting, it was scratchy and barely readable.

Her fingers brushed against "THE OUTSIDERS" with a smile, "I knew you could do it," she said to herself before sticking it back to the fridge. Glancing about around the room again, she stepped out the back door in between the living room and kitchen. The yard was surrounded by a fence that was painted blue by Mrs. Curtis. She stepped out in the freshly cut grass moving across the lawn.

She remembered when she was six with Darry and Soda, who were 6 and 3. They'd put their hands on the paint, leaving their handprints. The yells of Mrs. Curtis filling her memory as she knelt down, parting the grass. Three handprints on the blue pant, barely showing the white underneath.

She was a bit surprised that they were still there, she'd thought that Darry would've painted over the old fence at least once. Straightening up, she looked out to the back porch, the old rocking chair was still there.

She didn't bother walking back in, rounding the house to her car. Her car, which was a gift she was given to her on her 16th birthday by her father, was a 56 Chevy Bel Air, it was kept up well over the years and had not only gotten her out of trouble, but the teenage curtis that often was running from a party.

---

Tommy's rested in the middle of a street, often attracting teenagers, passing throughers, and hitchhikers. From the window, she saw her parents, talking to each other. It looked busy, as always, taking a breath, she got out of her car and stepping in the diner. A burst of cold air from the inside foyer made her shiver as she went through the second set of doors.

She walked up to her parents, and was immediately met with hugs. "How are you?" her mom, Mary, asked as she took a seat down beside her dad.

"I'm good," a sigh escaped Mary as Y/n spoke.

"I swear, it's such a shame."

Confusion lace Y/n's face as she gravitated towards Mary's line of sight. On the wall was the night of Tulsa High School State 3A winning; right in the front holding the trophy being Darrel Curtis; a wide smile on the black and white photo of the boy being lifted by his teammates.

"What's going on?" She asked, turning back to her parents.

"Your mom being sentimental." Her dad, Jeff, muttered.

Mary scoffed towards the older man's direction, "We passed Darry working on the roof of Mr. Robinson's home. He waved to us when we passed, I feel awful that he had to give up that scholarship."

"It was his choice," Jeff said with a slight indifference.

"He should've moved on with his life; I understand that his parents passed, but still."

Y/n spoke up, "What about Sodapop and Ponyboy?"

She could feel the anger sizzling in her palms as she clutched them in tight fists.

Mary sighed, rubbing her temple. "We understand Darry's decision to stay in Tusla and work instead of going to school. His brothers, poor boys." she shook her head, "Sodapop dropped out."

"He what!" Y/n yelled, shocked.

"You didn't hear?"

"No!"

"Then Ponyboy, I always thought that Dallas Winston was trouble, but murder?" she shook her head. Y/n rolled her eyes about that, it was out of self defence, they ruled it as such. Johnny only got a few months, apparently, according to Steve Randle, he changed a bit, but not for the worse.

"Out of self defense," she argued.

"Still, why was he carrying the knife around in the first place?" Mary retorted.

"Oh, I wonder," Y/n snapped.

"Alright, alright." Jeff groaned, "We're not arguing the minute that we see you."

She didn't want to pick a petty fight with her mom, but this was getting ridiculous. It was as if the two had changed since she left; they called frequently, but she often didn't answer due to being out of her dorm room or being busy with school work.

The waitress took the moment to come up to the small family, taking their order before walking off.

"So, what are you going to do now that you're officially a graduate?"

She cleared her throat, stalling for a moment before answering Mary. "I actually got a job in Tulsa."

"Oh, at the hospital?" her mom asked, excitedly. "We're so happy for you, Y/n!"

She laughed, nervously. "Thanks, Mom."

---

The sky blended into an orange and yellow smoothie as Y/n drove down the street, she told her parents that she was going to drive around before going back to the house. In reality, she wanted to see the Curtis brothers.

Pulling up to the white house, which now reflected an orangey-yellow of the sky; she stepped out of her car. Glancing behind her shoulder, see saw the familiar gangle of boys walking down the sidewalk.

Ponyboy was the first to approach her, pulling her in a tight embrace. "Hey, Pony." She pulled away, instead of looking down, she looked up. "Wow, you got tall."

"Yeah, I grew a few inches since you left." That made her laugh; soon after, Johnny, Dally, Soda, Steve, and Two-bit approached. They all gave her hugs, and a side hug from Dally.

"Johnny," she said, surprised seeing his face. He was more tuff than he was the last time she saw him; he had a kicked-puppy aura about him. Now, he stood tall and strong, like he could take on the world if it was up to him to keep it up. His jaw was sharper and his hair a bit longer, his bangs now slicked back by grease instead of on his forehead.

"It's good to see you two," he smiled. Before she could respond, Two-bit wrapped his arm around her,

"Oh, you think these two are what makes your jaw drop. You should see ol' Darry."

She looked at the brunette confused as Soda shook his head, "He didn't change as much as these two did."

"Bullshit!"

Two-bit pulled Y/n along and inside the house. The house was suddenly a contrast to what it was when she went through that morning. The record player was immediately turned on with Rock playing through; Two-bit grabbed the chocolate cake from the freezer and going to go sit on the floor with a beer in hand.

"What are you up to?" Johnny asked her as he turned inside the hallway entrance where she was standing.

"Well," she sighed with almost defeat. "I had dinner with my parents, it went okay. But, I kind of had to lie."

"About what?"

"My job."

As if on cue, all the boys turned towards her with confusion written on her face. You see, her parents weren't the only ones who didn't know about her coming home for a job, let alone the major change.

"What job?"

"I got a job here in Tulsa, but it's not in nursing."

"Then what is it?" Soda asked from where he sat on the couch, his socked covered feet on the arm rest.

"Astrophysics."

All of them looked at her with puzzled looks, she sighed. "I get to study the sky with gravity."

"Oh!" Two-bit smiled, "Hey, Ponyboy, now you get someone to talk to about the sky!"

She saw Ponyboy shake his head before her eyes traveled back to Johnny, who was still standing in front of her.

"I think it's pretty neat that you get to do that."

"You think?"

She watched the boy's head bob in agreement. If she was being honest with herself, she was scared to tell anyone. Most of the time, she was met with praises, but being back home made her nerves come back.

---

The front door swung open, all the boys popped up as Darry Curtis walked through the door, his shoulders aching. "Sorry, I had to stay--" he cut himself off seeing Y/n look from in from the kitchen.

Without saying another word, he dropped his bag at the door and walk over to her. She let out a small gasp of air as he tugged her in a tight hug, at least the muscles didn't go away.

He smelled of Mahogany, dust, and sweat. For once, she didn't find herself wanting to pull away from the oder; she rested her forehead on his shoulder. The only noise being Mickey Mousing playing on the TV.

Darry finally pulled away from her, his arms still around her waist. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, his hands pushing away the hair that had fallen.

"I wanted to see you, obviously."

"You didn't have to come all the way here to see me," he said. She raised an eyebrow, as a blush spread across his face. "That came out wrong, uh..." he pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck.

From behind Darry, someone yelled, "KISS HER ALREADY!"

Darry whipped around, no one looked like they spoke, but he already knew that it was Soda by the tone. He gave his younger brother a glare before turning back to Y/n.

"Sorry about that," he coughed. he paused for a moment before asking, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"I'd like that."

Wolf whistles sounded being him, he looked up at the ceiling, his ears now very red. She held in her own giggle, covering her mouth with her fingers.

"Would you cut it out!" He yelled at the gang before huffing. "I'll be back," He whispered to her before walking out of the room. Y/n turned back to the group with a disapproving look.

---

Days had passed since she had dinner at the Curtis house. She decided to go back, to find that everyone was going to be out of the house that night except for Darry.

"Is it alright if I stay here with you?" Darry looked up as soon as Pony stepped off the porch.

"Of course, you're always welcome to stay."

"Darrel." He knew, he always knew.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll sit down." Y/n closed the door before walking towards the couch, sitting close to where Darry was on the recliner. "You look good," he started.

"Thanks," she smiled. "Um... I want to talk about it." She continued, "I'm sorry that I left."

His blue eyes went wide as he snapped his attention to her, "What? No," he said, sternly. "Y/n, you had a life. After Mom and Pops died, I did what I had to as the oldest."

"I should've stayed in Tulsa," she argued.

"No," Darry rose his voice, his tone rougher than he'd meant. She watched as the now 23 year old stood, instead of walking to pace, who she initially thought, she felt his hand grab hers as he stood in front of where she sat on the old couch. "Listen to me when I tell you that I'm so glad that you left and found something that you were good at. You knew what you wanted to do for years, all I knew was that I wanted to play Football. But I've come to realize that all those players, they don't stay young and play for long. They're quickly washed out, I didn't have anything else that interested me."

"Darry," she paused, letting him continue.

"I'm sorry that we ended things the way that we did. I know Mom and Pops were just as parents to you as they were to me, Soda, and Pony. I'm sorry that I yelled at you that night,"

Y/n stood, her hand gripping his scared callused one a bit tighter than before. Which, he returned. "Darry," she began again before getting cut off.

"There are so many things I want to get off my chest, but you knew how I was with words and I was never really able to speak them. It was the reason why Pony ran off and had to deal with those Socs at the park. I'm working on it, I really am--"

Darry was cut off by Y/n pressing her painted nail against his lips. "Can I speak now?" He gave her a nod, not trusting his mouth to not start rambling once again.

"I didn't just come back because I was meeting up with parents. I got a job here, and I wanted to see if if you'd like to try again. I understand if you're in a new relationship now, or... have moved on and not wanting to worry about a relationship along with taking care of your brothers."

"At the hospital?" he asked.

"No, there's a company here that works with astronomy. I didn't graduate in nursing."

"Then what?"

"Astrophysics, I found something I loved better than taking care of children. And honestly, I failed out of my first year of anatomy," she confessed with an embarrassed laugh.

"Honestly, you were always the more intelligent one out of all of us."

"Doesn't help I have "rich" parents." He rubbed the back of his neck,

"How are they?"

"Good."

"I'm surprised they don't think of me as trash because of what happened to Johnny, Pony, and Dally."

"Yeah, I got onto them about that; they weren't the nicests about it." Darry only gave her a nod before a comfortable silence waved over them.

Darry's hand moved from hers, up to the side of her neck; his thumb tracing lazy patterns on her cheek. She leaned into his palm instinctively before Darry stole a kiss from her. It wasn't long or lasting; when Darry pulled away, Y/n immediately pulled him back into another, this time lasting longer.

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her tunt against him. Her own arms wrapping around his neck. A laugh from her throat made him pull away, his lips curling into the familiar carefree smiled that she'd grown to love.

" I promise, I'll there more. I might have all the time in the world, but... I'm willing to make this work."

"Yeah, me too." She paused, before asking. "You seriously let Soda drop out?"

A laugh ripped from his lips as his hair fell against his forehead as he shook his head. "Yeah, it was a long story. To sum it up, he wasn't going to graduate even if he went onto senior year."

"What's Pony doing now?"

"Still track, and baseball. He found that he really liked it," a hum escaped her as she followed him into the kitchen.

[lovingsoul111]

what if B.E.N were in a relatively with reader for a long time, she has never do anything against them and was always there for them and one day she decided to bring a boy she met and let's put a situation, one day he helped her and they became close but in a normal way, not very close but enough for her to invite him to her house to hang out a little? how would B.E.N react to that?

OOOOO OKAYYY!! I’ll make a scene!! I hope you like it!! ☺️ i feel like im most passionate writing scenes mainly about BEN.

—————————————————————————

You weren’t trying to hurt anyone. Least of all him.

The boy was just… kind. Not in the hollow, polite way most people pretended to be, but genuinely kind, in the way that lingered after a conversation and made your chest feel warm for a little while.

You met him outside a café after a clumsy accident with your grocery bag. The eggs had slipped out, the apples went rolling, and before you could crouch to gather them, a pair of sneakers had appeared beside you.

“Whoa, hold on—I got it,” he said, already scooping up a can that had rolled under a bench.

You looked up, caught off guard by the gentle, easy smile on his face. His hair was a bit messy, his hoodie a little too big for him, and he had that slightly awkward energy of someone good-hearted but self-conscious.

“Thanks,” you murmured, brushing hair from your face.

“No problem,” he said, handing you your bruised apple. “Bit of a grocery disaster, huh?”

You smiled, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “More like a full-blown grocery massacre.”

He laughed. “Well, I can’t let a crime scene like this go unassisted.”

After that, you saw him around a few more times. At the park. Near the crosswalk. Always casual, always by chance. He’d wave, ask how you were doing, crack some mild joke. The second time you talked, you mentioned a book you were reading. The third, he remembered the title.

By the fifth time, you found yourself smiling when you saw him.

So when you invited him over—just for tea, just to talk—it felt like the natural thing to do.

The day was bright and slow, warm sunlight pooling on the hardwood floor of your living room. You’d opened the windows to let the air flow through, and it smelled faintly of jasmine and clean cotton. A soft instrumental track played from your speaker in the background, something piano-heavy and peaceful. The couch cushions had been fluffed, a candle was lit, and your favorite mugs were set out.

When he arrived, he knocked lightly—three polite taps—and you opened the door to find him standing there with a sheepish grin and a small bag in his hand.

“Hey,” he said. “I brought cookies.”

You blinked. “Oh! You didn’t have to—thank you.”

“They’re just store-bought,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I thought it’d be rude to show up empty-handed.”

You stepped aside and welcomed him in. “Come in. The tea’s just finished steeping.”

He looked around, eyes scanning the room with quiet appreciation. “Your place is amazing,” he said. “It feels like one of those cozy spaces you’d see in a Studio Ghibli movie.”

You laughed gently. “That might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

He smiled, setting the bag on the table. “I’m serious. It’s warm in here. Like… in a peaceful way. Like the walls are happy.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, but something fluttered in your chest at the sincerity.

You sat on the couch, opposite ends, legs tucked under yourselves, sipping tea and nibbling cookies from the little plate between you. The conversation flowed easily.

“So,” he asked, “do you always read like… five books at once?”

You shrugged with a small smile. “I get bored sticking to one sometimes. It’s like having multiple dreams going on.”

“Man, I don’t think my brain could handle that. I can barely finish one without forgetting the plot halfway through.”

“You just need the right book,” you teased.

“Recommend me one, then.”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Do you like tragic stories?”

“I mean… I’m emotionally fragile, but yeah,” he grinned. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Frankenstein,” you said softly. “Everyone thinks it’s about a monster. But it’s really about wanting to be loved and not knowing how to ask for it.”

He went quiet for a second, then nodded slowly. “Okay. That actually makes me want to read it.”

You smiled down at your tea. “It’s beautiful. Sad. But beautiful.”

He leaned back on the couch, folding his arms behind his head. “I like talking to you, you know?”

You looked up.

“You’re easy to talk to. You don’t pretend. That’s rare.”

Something warm filled your chest again—but deeper this time. Not romantic. Just… appreciation. Connection.

You gave a small nod. “I’m glad you think so.”

But you didn’t notice when the sunlight shifted. When the shadows grew longer.

When the air started to hum—barely, like a low note vibrating just beneath hearing.

Your guest hesitated mid-sentence, rubbing at his forehead. “Ugh—sorry. Weird headache out of nowhere.”

You sat up. “Do you want water?”

“No, it’s not—” He closed his eyes, frowning deeply. “Actually… I don’t know. This is intense. It’s like my brain’s underwater.”

You could feel it now. A pressure. Growing. Rising in the room like a fog. But not physical—psychic. Something ancient. Territorial.

The boy’s expression turned confused, then alarmed.

“I think I—I gotta go. I don’t know what’s happening, but—” He stood, stumbling slightly. “Sorry, I feel weird.”

You followed him to the door, hands twisting nervously.

“Text me when you’re feeling better,” you said, trying to hide the tremor in your voice.

“Yeah. I will. Thanks again. You’re…” He trailed off, blinking hard. “…You’re great.”

Then he was gone.

The second the lock clicked, the silence devoured the room.

No birds. No wind. No sound.

Only him.

The light bent strangely in the corners of the room, as though struggling to hold shape. And when you turned, you didn’t see BEN, but you felt him—like the shadow of a predator stretched across your back.

He didn’t emerge from darkness. He was the darkness.

A flicker. A glitch. A figure with warped limbs and hollow, endless eyes behind the static of reality.

You swallowed hard. “BEN…?”

No answer.

Then, a voice—not spoken aloud, but stitched into the very air, vibrating through your bones.

“You smiled at him.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You let him sit where I sit.”

“It wasn’t like that,” you whispered quickly, already feeling a sharpness curling in your chest. “He’s just a friend—I didn’t mean—”

“You invited him into our space.”

The tone didn’t rise. It didn’t have to. He was.. quiet, but she could feel it.. the rage.

There was no yelling. No frantic rage.

Only the unbearable weight of a voice that knew it had full control—and would punish through silence far more than screams.

“Did it feel good?” he asked in a hushed tone.

You froze.

“Did it feel good to laugh like that? To let another boy make you smile?”

Your knees weakened.

“No,” you breathed. “It wasn’t like that—BEN, please, I didn’t do anything wrong—”

“Do not lie.”

A glitch crawled through the room like a pulse of static. Your skin prickled.

“I watched you. Every second. I heard every word. Your voice was softer with him.”

“That’s not true!”

You pleaded.. but it was useless.

“You poured him tea like you do for me.”

Your lip trembled.

“You remembered things he liked.”

“BEN—”

“You laughed.”

Then—lower. Crueler.

“Is that all I am now? Some ghost in the walls while you smile at strangers?”

“No—no, I would never—!”

“Then what was it?” he whispered, stepping closer. His form shimmered with rot and data corruption, twitching unnaturally as he loomed over you.

You looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “It wasn’t like that—it was nothing—I wasn’t replacing you—”

“But it was enough to forget I existed?”

You flinched.

“Enough to invite him into my sanctuary?”

Your breath hitched as a sharp, real scream echoed somewhere—distant, but unmistakably human. Ragged. Full of horror.

Your hands flew to your mouth.

“No—no, please, BEN—I didn’t mean to—don’t hurt him—!”

“You will learn your lesson.”

He leaned close. His voice was like a cold breath sliding into your ear.

“I’m teaching you.”

You dropped to your knees, tears blurring your vision.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I didn’t know—I didn’t mean to make you upset—I didn’t think—”

“Exactly.”

His voice was quiet now. Even gentler. Which only made it worse.

“You dont think. You never think. You are too naive.”

“I’m sorry—please—I need you—I need you, BEN—please don’t go—don’t leave me—”

He knelt before you, long, corrupted fingers lifting your chin so delicately it made your bones ache.

“You need me?”

You nodded frantically, sobbing. “Yes—yes—I do—I can’t do anything without you—I’m yours—I’m yours—please—”

There was a long pause.

Then, slowly, his head tilted to the side, smile glitching faintly across his broken mouth.

“Funny.”

“You didn’t act like you needed me when you were laughing with him.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you wailed. “I just—I thought it was nothing—I never meant to hurt you—I was wrong—please—please forgive me—”

His face hovered inches from yours, unreadable, those endless black pits where his eyes should be pulling you under like a void.

“You’re crying now,” he said softly.

“But you weren’t crying when he was here.”

“I’m sorry—please—don’t hate me—don’t leave—don’t disappear—”

Then his hands, freezing and ethereal, cupped your tear-soaked cheeks.

“Shh.”

“I’d never leave you.”

He leaned in, whispering into your trembling mouth.

“Even if you forget who I am.”

“Even if you betray me again.”

“You’ll still be mine.”

You nodded in his grasp, broken and breathless.

“And you know, I don’t share my toys, hm?”

And in some distant part of your mind, through the fog of guilt and fear, you realized,

You didn’t know where the boy had gone. Because you already knew.. all he was now, was a pool of blood..

And you would never ask again.

————————————————————————-

AHH I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!! It’s one of my first times making a scene so I hope it turned out well!! I try to be detailed and in depth, yk? Have a nice day!! ☺️💕

[bonefall]

How are we feeling at the book finale? Because outside of the Sunbeam girlboss moment telling Berryheart just how bad of a family she was AND maybe possibly foreshadowing her rejecting Nightheart, I think we miiiight get some more Dark Forest cats than planned before :D (also I may be wrong but- didn't Podlight have children? Would he even be eligible as Medicine Cat in BB?)

Podlight's totally eligible in BB! He has no canon children and I didn't give him any. In BB there's also an interesting quirk in that Podlight is notoriously Mistystar's... not EXACTLY a good-for-nothing grandson, but a bit of a "fratboy" working through daddy issues. Is is extra funny for this cat to be a villain lmao.

Also: Better Bones RiverClan Family Tree

Anyway... my thoughts on the spoiler thread's ending. Mostly negative, unfortunately. I am really hoping that a lot of this is misrepresentation.

I've enjoyed every book of ASC that's come out so far, but if this thread is accurate, this is going to be the first one that I actively dislike. It sounds like there was a serious nosedive in quality.

ON THE ENDING; Park Cats, and The Berryheart Gathering.

Park Cats.

It is profoundly frustrating to me that we had TWO traveling books in this arc. Do they not know by now that traveling books are widely detested for a reason??

Frostpaw and Nightheart were AWAY FROM THE CONFLICT for most of this book, what the fuck?

The plot barely advanced at all. There's been one major conflict in this entire arc, the invasion of RiverClan, and we are 4/6ths of the way through without any other major battles. This is boring.

Riverstar is a major character through this bullshit, now with a magical perfect connection to Frostpaw through plot convenience so he can give her tutorial tips, because GOD FORBID we have a more grounded story for once. I'm so sick of DOTC fanservice. Was a super edition not enough?!

And speaking of Riverstar's Home, they pretty clearly ripped a lot of inspiration out of it. Frostpaw and Nightheart go on a journey with random human-related shenanigans before finding a cardboard cutout of a culture

I'm not gonna lie guys. I do not like the Park Cats. I HAVE TO SAY; It's a step in the right direction

They are not demonized. They are treated as good and legitimate. They are seen as having wisdom and living peacefully.

This is Good. This is Fine.

(im still kind of mad they needed riverstar to come save them back in riverstar's home, like every non-clan culture does apparently, but HOKAY fine ok it's fine)

.....butt.

They're boring. guys, they have one thing that is unique to them, and it's meditation. They live in perfect peace and harmony. there's nothing there.

It's easy to be a perfect, peaceful society if you have no conflict ever.

IF THE SPOILER THREAD IS ACCURATE, we don't see them address strife, how they DO handle disputes, what DOES happen when a cat engages in "criminality," or even really see what their spiritual beliefs are besides "meditating"

And that's why the idea of Frostpaw taking away a good lesson from living with them strikes me as so hollow. WHAT is she taking from them? JUST vague, quiet meditation?? Why couldn't Riverstar just magically teach her that?

It also bothers me that this culture is exactly the same as it was in Riverstar's Home. It's in stasis. Nothing has changed, nothing has grown, they haven't picked up new customs. They don't even seem to have their own history besides remembering that Riverstar showed up generations ago.

It's not a culture, it's a plot device.

I swear, I'm really trying to like them, but RH left this really sour taste in my mouth and them showing up again in this book has only made me more frustrated.

I AM happy that we're going to maybe start trying to address the violence of Clan Culture, but it is coming in the middle of a book where nothing fucking happens, and they're starting to fumble the bag on the xenophobic radicalization that I'd been praising in the past few books

And by that, I'm referring to...

Berryheart's Gathering

through the books so far, I've been praising the slow rise of tension coming from the radicalized members of ShadowClan.

I think the way that Berryheart and her little Concern Club had been slowly escalating in their bigotry and violence was (and remains) unironically fantastic.

We had started off with it just being a group to "discuss the issues," which evolved into active bullying and harassment, progressed into attempted murder, and we left off on the idea that Berryheart's Hate Group was planning something with RiverClan's murder party.

And we are reaching a turning point in that arc, the payoff of a long and well-laid escalation, with...

normal democracy.

berryheart and her supporters approach puddleshine reasonably with their concerns and intent to call for a vote to depose tigerheartstar. doing the thing the fucking code addition was made for

This comes AFTER Sunbeam has a Girlboss Moment telling off Berryheart for being a bad mom in front of the whole gathering and everyone claps, mind you, so this is clearly supposed to be the narrative's big "oooo consequences for Berryheart" moment

So anyway Berryheart brings up that they want tigerHeartstar deposed, and then Puddleshine's like "haHA THIS WAS A ROUSE"

"Actually I only told you i agree to point out how this code addition can be exploited over a disagreement with ONE issue!!!!1"

i just...

im......

would Brokenstar training babies be One Issue? Would Bramblefake being a bully to his entire clan be One Issue? Would Leopardstar allowing Tigerstar to take over RiverClan be One Issue?

One Issue....

And MIND YOU I'm Pro-tigerHeartstar, actually, but the WHOLE fucking point of the rule is that you can depose someone who is not acting in the best interest of the Clans. Fym ONE ISSUE??

IT'S A BIG ASS ISSUE!

So anyway Berryheart is embarrassed in front of everyone, tigerHeartstar tells the group, "You're going to support me or get out of my Clan"

All of her supporters fall in line, but Berryheart chooses exile.

So Berryheart and her group isn't punished for the hate crimes, it didn't lead to anyone getting actually hurt, this faction of cats just settled back down and Berryheart alone was exiled for political opposition to occupation.

not the hate crimes

GOTTA STRESS

The hate crimes did not cause lasting damage, the radicalized group did not cause any violence at this gathering

Berryheart is exiled for political opposition to occupation.

The consequence she faces for the hate crimes was simply not having her son Spireclaw back her up because she caused trouble for Fringewhisker. Like it's on the same level as being a bad in-law and not ATTEMPTED MURDER BASED ON BIGOTRY

And tigerHeartstar, jesus christ

His consistent trait has been becoming unreasonable WHEN HIS FAMILY IS THREATENED. WHY are we tossing this out the window now?

I REALLY REALLY hope that the spoiler thread is misrepresentation, and tigerHeartstar didn't ACTUALLY exile her but said something like, "this is what we're doing. don't like it, leave. you don't have the votes"

SO FOR NOW; I'm going to reserve judgement on what the writers are doing with tigerHeartstar.

This seems like the exact sort of thing that may be worded in an inaccurate way

But that said,

I'm beside myself with disappointment in this turn of events. Why is this about legitimate political proceedings? Why did they make the CULMINATION of this arc about bigoted violence and radicalization a legitimate, peaceful attempt to use the process THEY JUST ADDED, FOR THIS EXACT PURPOSE?

Anyway, then it ends on a cliffhanger

Podlight claims to be the new medcat, pointed out as just being a political maneuver, to appoint Splashtail as the new leader.

Frostpaw watches on in shock and thinks about how bad it is that a murderer is now in charge of RiverClan, and how no one would believe her if she told them all now

I sure hope the next book contains something worth reading. like a fight or something. in the battle cat series. in the arc where theyre trying to say something about violence.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #10 – The Last Graduate by Naomi Novik

I read A Deadly Education last year and quite enjoyed it (and Novik’s unrelated Spinning Silver is just one of my favourite low fantasy books full stop so she has quite a bit of my trust), so I finally got around to putting in a hold request for the sequel. Broadening your horizons and reading outside your comfort zone means swimming through 400 pages of YA a couple times a year, right? Anyway, despite only barely remembering who anyone but El and Orion were when I went into this, was a fun read!

The book picks up more or less directly where A Deadly Education stops – with the horrible murderous monster-infested extradimensional wizard high school’s cleansing machinery repaired for the first time in generations, and the place therefor incredibly less monster-infested than previously. El, prophesied future dark lady of the apocalypse with a savant’s talent for specifically the sort of magic you cast after cackling and before someone puts a sword in you, doesn’t get to enjoy that much – her senior year seems destined to be spent being the target of just about every monster that’s left. Eventually you really have to wonder if the school is trying to kill you – and that question is where the plot really starts to go off.

So I said it before, but this is very much YA. I don’t mean that as an insult, or even a marker of quality, just that it’s a book from the perspective of a 17 year old looking down the end of high school and clearly written to provide a relatable emotional reality for an assumed audience of the same. So El sometimes acts like a cartoon character, and is pathologically incapable of expressing her emotions coherently or expressing affection for the guy she likes in any sane manner, and is far more blase about murder attempts and soul-eating monsters than emotionally awkward conversations – but honestly all that just rings as pretty true to life. Deeply aggravating at times, and her internal monologue and all its snark and doublethink does occasionally grate a bit, but overall it really works. She’s just a fun character to spend time in the head of, (and far less irritating in basically every way than she was in the last book. So hey, maturity!).

The emotional beats were all pretty simple and clearly telegraphed, and it isn’t exactly a book that requires you to sit down and ponder deep symbolism or metaphor to comprehend, but the pacing is tight and it’s very readable. The prose isn’t really anything to write home about – especially knowing what Novik can do when she decides to get fancy and show off a bit – but it very clear and just dripping with El’s personality on every page. I read this at the same time as I was picking through an incredibly dense and citation-heavy historical reader, and the contrast made me very appreciative of those virtues.

Character-wise – well, there’s El, and Orion (love interest, single-minded and near divinely-ordained monster hunter, golden boy of the most powerful enclave in the world), and there’s El’s few close friends, and then there’s a cast of dozens of students with maybe one memorable character trait who kind of drift in and out of the narrative as required. The amount of nuance and exploration someone gets drops off dramatically with each step down the list you go. Most of the cast shows up precisely when required and is more or less forgotten about directly afterwards – which does sell this being a school with over a thousand students in it! But the number of characters who really feel real drops off pretty rapidly.

(Also like, I assume it just comes down to social progress in the 2010s coming at you fast, but you really get the sense that at some point between the books getting written the publishers sent down a memo that you were allowed to say queer people existed now.)

Even more than Deadly Education, this is a book without any sort of singular villain, or even really any consistent antagonists. Some of the other students are assholes, sure, but the book’s whole thesis is that no one is that murderous or awful for the sake of it – they are because they’re rats in a cage, convinced that amoral self-interest and husbanding and acquiring every resource they can is the only hope they have of maybe living to see their families again. Offered a chance to do good, to actually change things for the better and help everyone without getting themselves killed in the process, just about everyone takes it. Even the semi-intelligent school itself gets in on it by the end, pressing the senior class to figure something out and make it obsolete – and the whole conflict of the final act is how and whether everyone will.

El and Orion can both kill basically arbitrarily large numbers of monsters (or people), so the monster-killing is never really where the book finds its drama either. I mean, both do a lot of it through the climax, but the actual tension mostly comes down to crowd management and logistics and whether everyone else is as committed to this as the two of them are.

As for what they’re struggling against – so like, this isn’t Divergent, by the standards of the YA I read in high school, the social commentary is both subtle and nuanced. But I mean, it’s also a story where highschool is four years or murder-hell-prison and justified only because it’s barely the lesser of two evils, and also a story where the poor and marginalized are only kept around more-or-less explicitly as ablative bodies for the kids the powers that be care about, with their only hope of good life being so impressive and useful to those kids that they try to bring them along when they ascend back up to the gilded paradise that is their birthright. So like, not that subtle.

As far as teenage romances go (which, for me, really isn’t very fair at all), El and Orion’s was surprisingly tolerable. It helps that they’re both actually deeply profoundly weird about it, and also that the book didn’t try to milk any drama out of will-they/won’t-they stuff or a love triangle. The ‘and they have sex for the first time the night before the final climactic struggle where one or both of them could very well die’ did feel right out of an old bioware game, though. (Also I’m just a sucker for tragedy and ironic mirroring/repetition, so the ending was great for me).

Look forward to finishing the series whenever I get around to it sometime in the fall.