#these uncoordinated farts...

[wizardofwizz]

jamrock's finest

[liquidstar]

i finished drawing the king+queen pair for my ocverse but i figure im not going to post them just yet, bc i also wanna revamp some older designs from andy's group, and i think if i post them all at once as a set i can have all their infoboxes in one place so its more convenient (since andy's group doesn't have those in their og post)

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Baby Fever

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You love watching Joel adapt to being a dad so effortlessly. You make it your mission tonight to give him another baby, whether he wants to or not.

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink, ovulating reader, dubish-con for Joel but he ain't complainin', cum eating, ball sucking, oral both male and female receiving, cowgirl / riding, missionary, rough sex, dom! reader, slight sub!Joel if you squint, mentions of condoms (wow rare one for me huh--no plz wrap it up), Daddy kink

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It’s probably the first time Joel has absolutely no care for Sunday night football. Instead, you watch with heart eyes as he lies against the opposite couch, head propped only by a pillow. He’s exhausted today. Grunting when he finally collapsed on the couch, sighing heavily as his joints ached and cracked. His eyes are puffy, near closed and fighting sleep. It’s been a restless 7 months for him just as much as you.

Meanwhile, wide eyed, giggly , and conveniently 7-month-old Sarah has become obsessed with Daddy Miller now. She sits in her diaper on Joel’s chest, watching him with admiration. A big curious smile plastered on her face as she bounces and slaps his face with her uncoordinated hands. 

They’re just looking at one another, in their own world. She brings a fat bitty palm on his cheek, watching the way it smushes his whiskered skin each time she rubs. Almost about to giggle with fascination, she instead decides to adjusts herself hunched over his face. Joel chuckles with her. He makes pouty fish faces, and she bursts into laughter each time. 

You watch as her little finger hooks into his mouth. “Ow!” He says softly, faking pain. She laughs again and smashes her cheek onto his scruffy beard. Sitting back again, she just looks down in awe. 

Your heart could burst right now. They pay no attention to you in the room, but you could watch them all night if you could. A gentle, heartwarming thrum tugs at your chest. 

This. This is what it’s all about. This is what your mom meant all those years. You would never have understood her words about family, about love, about the greatest moments of your life being the smallest, simplest ones too, like sitting in the living room together quietly.

And Joel—Joel being so incredibly perfect like this. He’s graying and his grouchy and he’s got bags under his eyes, but this moment makes him the perfect husband. The perfect father. The perfect person you could see every morning and fall in love with every time. It makes your body jittery with excitement on impulse now.

Sarah knee’s forward a little too much, her chunky knee falling onto Joel’s jugular. She laughs loudly as he chokes, his hands coming to grasp her securely from falling. Her bum scootches back on Joel’s chest as she sits up, patting his eyes affectionately. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and blows kisses to her.

The baby bares her gummy mouth and tiny teeth back. She pets his cheek gently, watching him closely. Her little eyes working over every detail, almost like she’s etching him to memory. The different colors and textures, features like the point of his knows and the crinkle of his forehead. Her big head falls forward, forehead bumping his eye again. 

You laugh as Joel squints. Unfortunate for him, she props herself on a wiggly ankle and then completely launches her whole body over his face. Joel yelps from below and starts blowing air into her belly, making farting noises as she erupts into a fit of loud squeals and wiggles. The squirmy wormy fat belly keeps getting gobbled up by Joel’s playful eating.  He lifts her like she weighs nothing, because truthfully she does, and sets her bum back on his chest.

Little Sarah can’t be kept away from Daddy for long, and she immediately hunches over his head again and stares into his eyes. Eventually she settles along his shoulder. She smushes her chubby smooth cheek against his rough, scratchy one. His whole head is almost the size of her, but it doesn’t both either of them. She’s so at home with him so close. 

You wave to her and whisper “Wanna come to Mommy?” with open arms.

She giggles like that’s sooo fucking funny before rubbing her face on Joel’s lips to say nah uh. She sneezes once, thankfully on his beard rather than eyeballs, before tucking herself against his neck and slowly closes her eyes, falling asleep on Daddy. 

A few more minutes pass until Joel can tell she’s completely out. Her body curled up like a pill bug, a bit of drool starting to creep its way into his nostrils. It’s time to put her to bed.

Joel carefully cradles her into his arms and lifts himself up from the couch. He takes his babygirl, the softest, warmest, most delicate thing he’s ever held with his callused hands, all the way down to her bedroom. His palms cupped tightly under her bum while the other caresses her back, her cheek against his collarbone as she sleeps soundly.

With utmost care and precision that he’s practiced a million times, he puts her into the crib. She lays out on her back and stretches comfortably without stirring. With his hand the size of her entire torso, he always rests it against her to feel each big inhale of air filling her belly and lungs before exhaling. Marveled that this little tiny thing alive and real, here, every day like the most miraculous thing in the cosmos, and its all because of you. 

He’ll never get over it. Never go a day seeing her without thinking she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Nothing he’s ever made with his hands—not this crib or this room, that rocking chair, the bear he stitched up, nor the ceiling fan or table downstairs that he built from years steady craftsmanship—nothing will ever come close to the love and pride that fills him when he sees this little thing right here. His daughter. His babygirl. His whole life now.

He’d stay in here forever and watch her from above like some creep if he could. Instead, Joel leans down and plants a soft kiss on her forehead, brushing her curly hair before carefully sliding out of the room and cracking the door.

He’s barely pulled away from the door knob when aggressive hands yank him back and push him against the opposite wall with such force, he nearly shouts. Picture frames shudder crookedly as wet lips attach themselves to his own. 

Joel’s never been pinned to a wall like this, but he’s not opposed to the way desperate, famished whimpers translate from your mouth to his, the way your tongue forces its way to glide over his teeth and tangle with his. Your hands wring the collar of his shirt in tight fists, and his back keeps getting smashed against the wall each time he tries to lean closer to you.

“W-mm-wha—mmmm-mmfff!—what are you—?“

“I want another one,” you growl. He shivers at how wracked your voice is. Beyond desperate, beyond control and savagely hungry. “Right. Now.”

He furls his brows. “W—?“ but you immediately latch yourself onto him again. 

His hands gently cup right above your ass, trying to be intimately appropriate, but you have other ideas. Your palms splay on his chest as you scratch your nails down to his crotch. Immediately fisting his rapidly hardening length out of his sweatpants. Joel’s head falls back against the picture frames.  He groans softly as you begin to pump him. Your tongue swipes your lips with a devilish grin, feeling him swell.

“Don’t you wanna put a baby in me?” You coo. Little nips to his lips don’t phase him, nor your words, as he slowly falls apart.

“Fuck—shit—“ he rasps. “But you just—“ he glances down to Sarah’s cracked bedroom down the hall. And how you specifically said you weren’t ready to try for another kid until Sarah was at least 3. “What has gotten into you??”

“Your seed—hopefully soon,” you smirk. 

He’s struggling to keep his trail of thoughts as you spit in your hand and continue to jerk him off expertly. Despite his size, the sheer force of your conviction right now has him pinned helplessly as you kiss and fist him.

“I—“

“Cmon Daddy, don’t you wanna make me a Mommy again? Get me all knocked up and show me off, how much you like breeding me…”

Joel Miller is not a strong man. Maybe he can lug concrete and lumber all day, pull wasp stingers and blisters from his own hands, carry a pregnant woman who’s gained 50 pounds in milkshakes alone—but god he’s a weak weak man for you when you’re like this. The greatest danger of all:

“Shit, are you ovulating???”

To his horror, you nod eagerly. 

You get to your knees quickly, and he sees how blown your pupils are staring up at his erect length. The little bob in your neck as you pinch the tip, licking the salty precum from your fingers. 

“I don’t think this is a good—“

All his words evaporate from his mind the second you wrap your lips around his fucking balls. He grits his teeth and slams his head back against the wall, fighting the demons, particularly the one on her knees right now who’s generously sucking each one into her mouth.

With one hand pumping his cock over your forehead, your tongue swilrs and massages his sack. Suckling and releasing them with a pop before transferring to the other. 

He covers his mouth with a slap. 

Christ, you’re literally prepping them. Getting his seed ready and raring for your eggs to accept with loving arms.

You cup them in your warm hands, continuing their massage as your mouth engulfs his dick. bobbing your head obscenely, you take his tip to the back of your throat. The pressure on his mouth tightens from the whine burrowed in his throat when his tip nudges your esophagus like its nothing, squeezing around him before pulling away again in the tight heat of your skilled mouth.

He can’t compete. Can’t think. Not when you’re sucking him off like the tastiest, juiciest hot wings, all meat slurped clean from the bone in a single suck. 

His eyes feel hazy as you work him, gargled noises filling his hears. He wants to blow his load. Yeah, maybe that’s it. He’ll cum down your throat right now, and you won’t get any—

As if reading his thoughts, you pull off his throbbing cock. A wet string of saliva connecting his tip to your lips. You look so gorgeously sinful right now: swollen lipped and crazy eyed. 

He’s in serious trouble.

Inhuman strength yanks him down the hall and into your bedroom like a leashed dog. You chunk him on the bed, his back bouncing once before you’re shoving him down, crawling over his body and pinning him like a wooden slat.

‘Maybe…” he gulps. You don’t listen as you pull his pants all the way down to his ankles—effectively keeping them trapped around the fabric so he can’t get away.  “—I should get the condom…”

Your head snaps to him with an angered snarl. 

No. Bad bad bad idea. 

He tentatively reaches for your face, but you snatch him down and pin his hand above the bed. “Fuck your condoms,” you growl.

He nods fearfully. He prays to the horny devil, who overcomes women once a month and helps procreate the human race, to please have mercy on his wife and release her from the chokehold possession the demon has wrapped around her.

You soften just a bit, if possible with carnivorous crave licking your tongue over your teeth. “I’ll take care of everything, just sit there and let Mommy handle the breeding.”

WeakWeakWeakWEAK fucking man, Joel Miller.

He didn’t even notice when you had striped your underwear, but your naked pussy is already slobbering atop his tip. He gasps at the warm, wet drool, thick like syrup, coating his tip. You giggle vivaciously and begin to rub it between your folds.  “You ready for it, baby?” You coo. “You’re gonna give me another one, Daddy. Right. Now.”

You gasp loudly as you sink down onto his pulsing length. Joel’s whole body goes taught, the veins in his neck strained so tight they may burst before his cock does.

“Ugghrrmmgmgmmmmhgggffff Fuck yeah, Shit, that’s sooooooo fucking good, Joel, Fill me up, been needing this fat cock buried in my tight pussy all fucking night. Oh my god!” You squeal, quickly bouncing up and down on him until your ass is slapping his thighs. 

F-F-f-f-f-f-f-f-fuuuuucccckkkkkkk.” He daringly tilts forward to see you hungrily riding his dick back and forth, your hips working so effortlessly. Tongue lolled out with a big grin on your face.

“Fuckin love watching you be a Daddy! M’gonna take it, take your fucking cum in my fertile little cunt until I’m bursting with your baby again.”

He needs to tell you that you need to heal more first. That you’re still tired, and new as a mom, and freshly off the first child. But when he sees your tits jumping up and down with each movement, the way they’re still heavy and forever changed from the last time he knocked you up, he keeps his lips shut, except for the huffs of pleasure flowering in his body.

You’re bouncing fast for his seed. Not even god’s entire army of angels could deny this. He thinks about how your droopy tummy right now reminds him of when you were first starting to show while pregnant with Sarah, and the realization only then that you were really pregnant dawned on him. It was the period of best sex because he could still be rough with you, but admire that tiny swell that he put inside of you. Reminds him of right now, that he could do it all over again right fucking now and you’re letting him. So greedy and desperate for it, just for him to flood your womb with more cum and more babies and—

Fuck, fuck don’t cum Miller. 

But the image of your swollen body again, milky fat tits and wide hips  accepting him—shit no that’s making it worse!

Ok—he thinks about the 9 months straight of pure hell: your attitude, demands, yelling, crying, exhaustion. How bitchy and annoying you get, pushing him past his envelope to serve your needy wants until he’s over the edge and pins ya both right back in this exact position with him pounding the shit out of you—

He thrusts his hips up and grasps your waist. Taking over and fucking up into you because the thought of Pregnant Wife You all over again and needing to take care of you once more has him in a feral deathtrap.

You yelp as Joel flips the two of you over. Your thighs fall even further apart as he completely slots his body between them and goes to pound down on your cunt. “Oh SHIT OH FUCKYESDADDY!” You cry with a smile, arms slinging over his shoulders to hold him down close to you.

You keen, so high and dumb you’re begging for it. Legs wrapped around him securely with no room to pull out. 

He grunts anomalistically, over and over again with each fast rut into you. Your fingers grip his hair tightly and pull his face next to yours. “You’re gonna fucking cum inside me,” you growl through bared teeth. He fucks you faster. Eyes so dilated, heart pressed against yours like a race. 

���Fill me up baby, breed me—breedmebreed-breed-breedmeDaddy fuck oh my god yesyesyesyesYES!”

He can’t stop his hips from moving, can’t stop the delicious plunge of his angry dick into your sweet sweet tight slit. He probably looks ridiculous—knees spread so wide on the mattress to really dig each thrust deep inside, wearing only a T shirt with his ass and swollen balls hanging out and humping desperately into your mound. 

He hisses through clenched teeth into your neck, cheeks puffing out with each blow. You keep encouraging him with more naughty thoughts of making him Daddy over and over and over again and any sane man would be insane right now. 

He’s thought about breeding you every day since you even found out you were expecting. He mourns the loss of your pregnant glow. Joel loves you, beautiful each day, but something about seeing his wife swell with the clear evidence of his love, her own body and mind changing by the minute because of him …he wants you pregnant again. For the rest of your life. Stuffed full of his kids. Round and fertile like a goddess. Once he got a taste of you like that, no husband would ever miss the chance to do it again. 

He wants it so badly, so little clarity left in him that is screaming ‘pulloutpulloutpulloutpullout’ as he pounds pounds pounds your womb. He may break his jaw from how tightly clenched he is. Nothing matters more than giving you exactly what you’re begging for.

He grunts even louder, and you tighten your legs around him even more, knowing he’s close. 

“Oh fuckFUCK Yes Baby give it to me!!—FUcking cum, Daddy oh shit—oh RIGHT—RIGHT FUCKING THERE! Come inside, I know you wanna Daddy just fucking cum in my little womb, let’s make a fucking baby, knock me up right now!!”

He shouts, and fate grants him mercy at the last possible second; his cock slips out and nudges itself along your ass as he spills his load onto your slit and the bedsheets.

You shake your head and start swearing, but he’s still on top of you, whining and jerking with each pulse of seed that is just shooting like a geyser from his tip. He lets out a long moan, closing his eyes. His cock twitches a few more times before finally going empty.

He sits back just a bit, trying to even his breathing. Joel Miller has never been so overwhelmed by an orgasm before that he loses sense of where he is for a few seconds. All covered in sweat, his heart rate dangerously high from such a fantastic cum.

He hazily opens his eyes to see you scooping his cum from your ass and the mattress, dragging it up along your slit and pushing as much of his cream into as you can salvage.

“NO!” He shouts, quickly grabbing your wrists and pinning them to your side. You wail out, physically squirming and trying to wiggle from his grasp. He watches you thrash madly but to no avail. Your poor cunt clenches and unclenches, his probably trying to make its way from your folds to your womb right now…

Joel quickly bends down, hands still firmly on your wrists, and puts his mouth on your cunt. You gasp out, strained and pathetic, as he begins to suck out of his seed from your slit. For good measures, he licks it from your crack and ass too, everything rapidly being scooped by his talented tongue gulped down his throat, away from your dangerous eggs.

Your heels come up along his back and press down hard. He shouts into your cunt when you cum. Clit twitching like a heartbeat while your much needed orgasm rolls through you. Your walls clench so tightly around nothing, you can’t help but whimper at the loss despite shaking through the euphoria for so long. Joel does what he can, working his tongue through it all until your sounds get softer, more satisfied. 

“Euughh—salty,” he says with a shiver, wiping his lips clean of all his and your cum. You both pant together with the last ebb of your orgasms settling.

“You alright, babe?” 

Tears begin to well in your eyes. Lips trembling with a pathetic mewl spilling past your lips.

“Honey—Honey please don’t cry, its just—you get this way when you’re ovulating, and ya’d be mad at me if I actually did breed you—“

You nod solemnly despite wiping your tears and burning your face into your hands. No he’s right. you weren’t thinking straight. So horny and desperate to be filled, you didn’t think anything through it. Just needed him balls deep emptying every bit of sperm into you like you were made for nothing else.

It takes 3 seconds of Joel hugging you close before feels you begin to hump his thighs.

“Oh—oh no—“

You nuzzle your face into his shirt and inhale, getting yourself high on his scent while your slick pussy does a number on him. Your smooth, seductive, temptress voice nearly lulls him under your spell again: “Fuck—fuck Daddy—can we do it one more time—please?My pussy—she’s so—nnnmm—feels so empty…I’ll—ugghhhhhh oo ff-ff—fuuccckkk—I’ll let you—ah—haaa!—pull out—“

He yanks back. “THE HELL YOU WILL.”

Joel snatches your arms and throws you off him. He quickly snatches his pants and runs out the door, closing it behind him. You slam against the frame and shout, “GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING COCK, MILLER!”

He holds the knob tight despite its aggressive rattling. Joel quickly ties his sweatpants legs from the door handle to the hallway guard rail, stretched to keep them at odds and effectively locking you in. 

“Not till you behave!” 

He hears you go quiet for a moment before you erupt into a long wail like a baby. At the same time, poor little Sarah can’t handle all this raucous, awakening from her sleep and crying through the cracked bedroom.

Joel wipes his face, knowing he’s done the right thing. But now at the cost of an irritated baby that’s gonna make him carry her all night, he’s reconsidering having just pumped you full in the first place and calling it a day.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[fuctacles]

An offer you can't refuse

@stevieweek Day 1: Stobin + Dom!Stevie | T | 2127 | no cw | bar setting, modern au, Steddie, Buckingham, Stobin, Hellcheer, mentions of polyamory, everyone is horny, Eddie is a switch for hot ladies | Ao3 Stevie Week: Day 1 | Day 2 (art) | Day 3 (art) | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

"I hate you so much!" Robin slurs slightly, her hand slapping against the bar. Stevie presses her lips together, trying not to laugh at her distressed and intoxicated friend. 

"Why this time?" she inquires, calmly sipping her drink. 

"You're so pretty!"

"Why, thank you," she beams, but Robin huffs. 

"Stevie," she says, putting her drink away and grabbing Stevie's face. "You did this on purpose," she accuses, though her tone has no real anger. "For not dating you when you wanted to."

"Uh-huh."

"And now you got so cute. But I know what your farts smell like!"

Stevie snorts, but Robin presses her cheeks harder together until her lips pucker out. She stares at them, dark and shiny with the lipgloss she uses. 

"Robs..."

Robin only shakes her head with her hands, making a wild sound of distress and frustration. It forces Stevie to put away the drink and grab her. 

"Stop it, you're ruining my hair!"

Robin grumbles but lets her pry her hands away.

"You hate me because I'm hot?" Stevie asks, amused. Robin huffs.

"I didn't say you're hot," she protests.

"But you think that?"

"Evie." Her fingers flex like they're itching to abuse her hairdo and makeup again but Stevie keeps her wrists in a tight grip. "You know you're hot, you bitch. And I'm stuck here—a 6 with a 10 for a best friend. And if we weren't best friends, if I didn't know about your gross pickle breath, you'd be exactly the kind of girl I crush on, but—!"

"But you're stuck with a hot best friend?" Stevie asks, pouting sympathetically.

"Exactly!" Robin deflates angrily.

"I mean, we can make out if you want," she offers with a shrug.

Robin, in her drunken state, seems to be considering it, before she crunches her nose.

"No, thanks." But then, her frown deepens. "But if we had, like, a threesome? Or foursome?"

"Ooookay." Stevie pushes her away, so she sits fully on her barstool instead of perched on the edge to be right in her friend's face. "We can get back to it when you sober up. See if you still want to see me naked then," she snorts. There was a time when this kind of confession would lead them to the back of their current workplace, but Stevie shares the sentiment that their relationship had evolved in a completely different direction by now. Robin was too much like her sister. 

And she doesn't want to think about a threesome with her sister right now. Not with the alcohol pumping through her to the beat of the music.

It wasn't Robin's usual scene, but ever since Stevie's transition, she's been helping her to get out more. Thanks to that, her experience with women has been expanding. Stevie got something from these outings too, they helped her feel better in her skin, feel like a real woman, and be treated like one. Back when her features were stronger, and her makeup skills lacking, the club lights helped to hide them. Now they both felt comfortable in these settings and knew where to go to to feel safe and have fun.

But sometimes it was nice just to be in their tiny New York apartment, just the two of them, and a mildly amusing sitcom on their second-hand TV. Stevie presses the back of her fingers to her friend's shoulder.

"Do you want to go home?"

Robin shakes her head slowly.

"Not yet. Let's dance for a bit."

Dancing was also something that hadn't been a Robin thing until Stevie dragged her into it. She was still uncoordinated and awkward but after a few drinks, neither she nor other people seemed to care. So they finished their drinks and Stevie pulled her onto the dancefloor.

She usually dragged her friend out to the bar in hopes of helping her find a girlfriend or at least a hookup, but having fun with her friend was more than enough after a week of working in a quiet bookstore. So, with a pleasant buzz fueling their movements, they dance close together, hands laced because they are that comfortable with each other. And since it was a queer-friendly club, someone unfamiliar with them couldn't tell if they were friends or lovers. 

People would bump into them and make offers they have to decline. It's been assumed they were a pair of lesbians looking for a threesome more than once. But since Robin wasn't into dicks and Stevie was afraid of how people would react after finding out she had one, it's always been a 'no'. Even if she liked the idea of having sex with multiple partners. It was tricky being born a woman, and even more becoming one. 

So when someone gently touches her shoulder, she sobers up in case she needs to defend herself and her friend.

"Do you mind swapping up?"

She turns to see a long-haired man wearing a leather jacket, one of many frequenting a club like this. But instead of another man accompanying him, he has a petite blond girl by his side. 

Stevie hesitates and turns to Robin to find out what she thinks about it. She does seem wary as well, but interested in the blonde girl nevertheless. So, hesitantly, Stevie nods. 

"One dance," she decides, accepting the man's extended hand. 

But she's not about to let him dream up impossible scenarios in his head. Halfway through the song, a pleasant mix of energetic and sensual, she leans into him, so she can be heard over the music. 

"If you're hoping for a foursome, it's not happening. We're not a couple," she says before pulling away to watch his reaction. He seems surprised at first before shaking his head. He's the one to lean in now, and his breath hits her neck in a way that makes her body throb. 

"Don't worry, I'm just wingmanning for my friend tonight," he says and they both turn to where their friends are dancing next to them. They seem to be getting into it, hands grasping at hips or thrown over shoulders, bodies pressing tentatively together, shy yet hungry.

Stevie huffs out a chuckle. 

"Same here," she says, raising her palm. The guy seems surprised but he laughs and slaps her hand in a high five. 

"Wanna grab a drink, give them some space?" he offers, and Stevie nods. They give their friends a heads up, and they both seem to be equally reluctant about being left without their human shields, but with the assurance they'll be waiting at the bar, they let them go. 

Stevie's the one to lead the way, and she likes the feeling. To be leading a guy where she wants him. She's always been a people pleaser and still is, but there's something about being in charge that just tickles her brain the right way. Which has been something she's been missing since she's started being hit on as a woman.

"What do you want?" she asks once they reach the bar, before catching her mistake. But the man doesn't seem to either notice or mind.

"A simple screwdriver," he answers without missing a beat. "Just need to let loose tonight."

Stevie nods and flags down the bartender. She orders the screwdriver for him and a strawberry daiquiri for herself. After she's done with the order, she can feel him leaning over her. He's not touching her, his hand dropping to the bar counter, but his presence hovering over her makes her feel caged in. In a good way.

"I'll pay," he offers, flashing his card, and the bartender nods, reaching for the terminal. 

Stevie looks up at him, but craning her neck like that is uncomfortable, so she turns, which in turn makes her chest to chest with him.

"I have money," she protests with a pout. 

"I don't doubt that," he agrees with a nod. Behind her, he reaches out with his card to swipe it through the terminal. It brings them even closer together for a second, and she tries not to fucking smell him because she's not a creep. "But I haven't paid for a cute lady's drink in a while. Please let me have it," he asks, and he's not doing the I'm better than you routine so she nods.

"Fine. I'm paying for the next one, though."

"Of course." He smiles, tucking his wallet into an inside pocket of his jacket. She notices the dimples appearing on his cheeks. They're stupidly cute.

"There's an empty seat there, wanna sit while we wait?" he offers and she nods. No matter how often she wears heels, they never feel easier to deal with. 

He leads her to the stool he pointed out, but then before she can hop on it, he grabs her hips and puts her on the leather cushion himself.

"That was unnecessary," she murmurs, knowing full well she's on the heavier side. She tries her best not to blush while he leans against the bar next to her, in the already limited space. She has a ridiculous urge to spread her legs for him, to make more room, but she kills that thought immediately. 

"Sorry." He looks actually apologetic. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just don't have many opportunities to treat a woman properly. My friend Chrissy, you see," he points his chin to the dancefloor where Stevie notes with pride that Robin's hands are now confidently wrapped around Chrissy's hips. "She's strictly on that feminist lesbian agenda, and while I'm completely on board, of course, I still want to treat someone like a princess, you know? She used to let me..." he trails off, hesitating before he catches Stevie's curious eyes. He sighs. "Okay, so we do have this friends-with-benefits kind of thing? But we're not like, together-together," he starts rambling. "Only when we get really unlucky on dates. She's more women-leaning. And we're both dominant? So I swear we're not looking for a foursome—"

Stevie has heard enough. She pressed two fingers to his mouth.

"It's fine, shut up. We've been thinking about it anyway."

"About what?" The man blinks.

"A foursome." She shrugs, and he suddenly seems to be choking on air. Stevie observes it with amusement while the bartender slides their drinks to them. She grabs her daiquiri. "It's just a thought," she reminds him. "You might not be into me."

The guy blinks. He grabs his glass like a lifeline.

"Why is that?" he asks curiously, but his eyes wander down her body like he already has an idea.

"I have a dick," she confirms what he's probably thinking.

He closes his eyes, and she braces herself for the inevitable rejection. It's happened countless times before, she can handle it once again. Even if he's insanely hot. 

"Damn, I was hoping but I didn't know how to ask."

She blinks at him owlishly, her face falling.

"Huh?"

"Is that weird?" The guy retracts into himself and she can sense another incoming word vomit. Robin has similar tells. "I just think it's hot. I go both ways but I prefer women and I love a girl who's packing. But strap-ons kinda kill the mood for me? Of course, it's fine if you don't want to use it, I wouldn't make you do anything that makes you feel anything less than the beautiful girl that you are."

He holds her gaze for two seconds and then busies his mouth with the drink in his hand. 

Stevie leans on her elbow, eyeing the man curiously. It seems her flirting skills won't be needed tonight. The man was gone without her doing much of anything. 

"You sure you're a Dom?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "You don't sound like one."

He doesn't take offense, to Stevie's pleasant surprise. His cheeks get redder in the neon lights.

"I make exceptions," he says with a shrug. "For exceptionally beautiful women." He's laying it on thick but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't eating it up. 

"And that would be me?"

"Absolutely," he nods eagerly. She considers him for a long moment and he holds up the silence, albeit he goes twitchy under her gaze.

"What's your name?"

"Eddie," he answers immediately like he's been waiting for her to ask. "Yours?"

She moves her mouth thoughtfully, feeling his eyes on her lips before she makes up her mind.

"Miss Stephanie," she says with finality.

The shift is immediate. His pupils blow out and he straightens up, ready to listen to orders and serve. A feeling of power shivers through Stevie's body. 

"Finish your drink and we'll go somewhere quiet."

"Yes, Miss." He nods obediently, sipping on his orange drink.

"You won't be needing your friend's help tonight."

[gigilberry]

A few I took several years to learn:

Most people don't assume that strangers automatically hate them

People will often mirror the attitude you have to them, i.e., if you're calm they're more likely to be calm too

If you apologize a lot (even for things that you've been told aren't your fault or don't need to apologize for) try saying thank you instead. Instead of "I'm sorry you had to wait for me" try "Thank you for waiting for me"

Small talk is a really great way for you to judge whether or not you can stand a stranger's company without revealing personal information about yourself. It's also a thing humans do as a 'Hi! I see you! You're alive too!' beacon signal like how birds call to each other in a storm or cats make nonverbal signals to each other in greeting.

(The secret third thing is that "normal behavior" or "manners" are sometimes the only thing stopping a person from going for their annoying coworker's throat and this is why society hasn't collapsed in on itself.)

Humans are an embarrassing species and it is normal to be a little uncoordinated, forgetful, awkward, or simply mess up. This you must accept

Humans are also a gross species. We burp and fart and kind of smell, and this is normal. We are hairy mammals with animal habits and all that really comes down to is wanting comfort, companionship, good food, and time to have fun

There are some thoughts that are inside thoughts and you need to get good at figuring those out

The truest skill is being able to figure out if you're angry because of a genuine problem, because you're hungry/tired/overwhelmed, or because you want something to pick a fight about

Being normal has a time and place, actually, just like being weird has a time and place. Being normal is for things like basic human decency. Being weird is for finding people who are similar to you or like your flavor of weirdness

Normal is something that changes for the society you live in, so if all else fails find a society that vibes with you.

can someone recommend some beginner normal behaviors for someone looking to become normal

[dl-2over]

A Broken Agreement By Kinky Observations

John was in for it now. He'd been repeatedly asked by his wife Angie to stop spending money on Asian pornography. Not only did she find it offensive to their marriage but his interest in a completely different culture from herself made her insecure. So for a while he had honored her wishes but when she went out of town to visit family his hormones got the better of him. When he reactivated his account, a security feature on the computer sent an alert to Angle. Not only had John gone onto pornographic websites again but it had released a virus into their system. But instead of flying into a rage she simply smiled and deleted the alert. John was going to learn what happened when a witch also fluent in computer programming got her revenge. John happily scrolled through the new content, he had missed this site. He never talked or commented as he was just there to amuse himself but he noticed a message in his account. He clicked it and his heart skipped. "Hello John, this is your wife. I knew you'd betray our agreement eventually so I programmed a little spell into the computer. I'll make sure you have little love of Asian porn when it's done. I'll see you soon. Love, Angie."

He cursed himself and tried to delete the account but his hand wouldn't go to the Account tab. Instead it jerked to the internal search engine. His fingers typed a series of words related to types of kinks on the site; "BBW, Lesbian, Slob, Dumb, Shy" and his enter. Immediately he was given a folder for each fetish. No longer in the realm of scantily dressed school girls he preferred one hand dove into his pants to grab his erect member, the other clicked the first folder; Asian BBW. Against his will he was bombarded by a series of plump to obese Asian girls. His body feeling heavier as he piled on adipose, his meaty hands becoming like pale sausages around a shrinking penis. He squealed in a girly tone and moaned with a heavy accent as his fingers now probed a dripping wet vagina. His hair down his face his clothes long gone he hit the next folder, Slob. Girls covered in food, dripping with sweat, living in filth, farting, belching, hairy, and little to no hygiene at all altered him further. His fingers now dug into a dark and thick forest of hair and his underarms itched. Pizza boxes and burger wrappers littered the area around him. His newly acquired panties were stained and wedged into a dirty butt crack. Now he was into the next folder, building more and more towards orgasm. The pictures of shy shut in girls and videos of stuttering and even crying at social situations eroded his confidence and he felt shame at his body and actions. He tried to shake off the mental changes but all he could think of was the fear of the outside world, Fear quickly dissipated as his IQ dropped to just above functional. Dumb Asian girls who were clumsy and uncoordinated altered his mind further. The simpler pleasures of food, TV, and sex made her smile a dumb grin but she was still missing something. Something hot to get her already soaked pussy more revved up. The Lesbian folder was filled with Asian on white girl porn. John felt shame again at the thin, clean shaven Asian girls, but the white blond bombshells fucking them make his crotch explode in a final climax that sealed his changes.

Angie returned home the next day. The dumb longing look was one of pure passion and devotion. After all Jinee was unable to care for herself much now. Too dumb to work, too shy to leave the house, and too hungry for food and pussy to think anyway. "Perfect" She smiled.

[daddy-winter]

I was tagged by @cas-fulleditmode

Tagging: @gunthermunch (again), @a-kind-red, @cillaben, @naelu and anyone else who wants to do it!!!

Traits: cheerful, creative, friendship

You have to make a simself and put whatever you wish there, traits, anything about you.  After the keep reading thingy are +100 questions I found that you can answer if you want, but you don’t have to.

𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨:

What is your full name? Amelia

What is your nickname? Milly, Mimi, Mills, or if autocorrect has anything to do with it, Milky

Birthday? December 11 (eyes emoji)

What is your favorite book series? Harry Potter

Do you believe in aliens or ghosts? Aliens ofc

Who is your favorite author? Mitch Albom

What is your favorite radio station? The Last Podcasr On The Left?? idk theyre my uncles

What is your favorite flavor of anything? Vanilla!!

What word would you use often to describe something great or wonderful? “oh my god???”

What is your current favorite song? Riptide - Vance Joy

What is your favorite word? Extraordinary

What was the last song you listened to? Smithereens - Twenty-One Pilots

What TV show would you recommend for everybody to watch? THIS IS US (finished first season and im sobbing what the hell ok)

What is your favorite movie to watch when you’re feeling down? What We Do In The Shadows

Do you play video games? YOU KNOW IT

What is your biggest fear? My anxiety coming back

What is your best quality, in your opinion? My kindness

What is your worst quality, in your opinion? Jealousy i guess?

Do you like cats or dogs better? dogs even though my dog has the worst farts im smdh i raised you

What is your favorite season? Winter!

Are you in a relationship? bitch im tryin

What is something you miss from your childhood? lack of responsibility 

Who is your best friend? my friend(s), Tori and Maisie!!

What is your eye color? Green

What is your hair color? Brown to blonde ombre

Who is someone you love? john boyega my mum

Who is someone you trust? My mum

Who is someone you think about often? ,,,,,,my mum

Are you currently excited about/for something? I’m excited for Mindhunters season two (WHENEVER IT COMES OUT)

What is your biggest obsession? Currently Michael Langdon from AHS: Apocalypse (HE DESERVED BETTER GODDAMMIT)

What was your favorite TV show as a child? The Emperor's New Groove 

Who of the opposite gender can you tell anything to, if anyone? None spring immediately to mind

Are you superstitious? Occasionally

Do you have any unusual phobias? When someone walks upstairs behind me (could be someone i know but ill still fucking BOOK IT)

Do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? Behind

What is your favorite hobby? Drawing and writing

What was the last book you read? The Five People We Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom

What was the last movie you watched? What We Do In The Shadows

What musical instruments do you play, if any? None, im an uncoordinated swine

What is your favorite animal? Greenland Shark

What are your top 5 favorite Tumblr blogs that you follow? -

What superpower do you wish you had? Teleportation!

When and where do you feel most at peace?  At home.

What makes you smile? My friends

What sports do you play, if any? ,,,,,,,,,,, next

What is your favorite drink? Coffeeeeee

When was the last time you wrote a hand-written letter or note to somebody? ahhahahahhaah NEXT

Are you afraid of heights? Nah

What is your biggest pet peeve? When people dont use manners jdkdjdk

Have you ever been to a concert? Yep!

Are you vegan/vegetarian? Nope

When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? Paleontologist 

What fictional world would you like to live in? Just like,,,, any alternate political timeline djdkdjk

What is something you worry about? School, mocks, revision, boys, girls,,,, oh,, one thing

Are you scared of the dark? Partially.

Do you like to sing? I do!

Have you ever skipped school? Like for the last 4 years except this school year

What is your favorite place on the planet? Tenby

Where would you like to live? Anywhere in Wales

Do you have any pets? Two dogs!!

Are you more of an early bird or a night owl? Constantly tired pigeon

Do you like sunrises or sunsets better? Sunsets

Do you know how to drive? not yet!

Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? Earbuds??

Have you ever had braces? Nope

What is your favorite genre of music? Movie OSTs, Game OSTs, Indie, Rock-ish

Who is your hero? My mum

Do you read comic books? Sometimes!

What makes you the most angry? poltics (eyes ohio)

Do you prefer to read on an electronic device or with a real book? Real book

What is your favorite subject in school? English.

Do you have any siblings? No.

What was the last thing you bought? Work out clothes

How tall are you? 5′3

Can you cook? Somethings???

What are three things that you love? Too many!!

What are three things that you hate? Ignorance, intolerance and impatience

Do you have more female friends or more male friends? Female

What is your sexual orientation? Boys and girls (atm im swinging more toward men though im smdh)

Where do you currently live? England

Who was the last person you texted? My dad

When was the last time you cried? Like,,,,, two hours ago (This Is Us finale)

Who is your favorite YouTuber? Call Me Kevin 

Do you like to take selfies? Depends on the outfit

What is your favorite app? This godforsaken hellsite 

What is your relationship with your parent(s) like? Good? better with my mum

What is your favorite foreign accent? European or Welsh

What is a place that you’ve never been to, but you want to visit? like nowhere ??? hate planes

What is your favorite number? 11

Can you juggle? god no

Are you religious? Satanism sounds p good but no

Do you find outer space or the deep ocean to be more interesting? Deep Ocean,

Do you consider yourself to be a daredevil? Sometimes??

Are you allergic to anything? Yes.

Can you curl your tongue? Yes.

Can you wiggle your ears? No.

How often do you admit that you were wrong about something? Most times i believe

Do you prefer the forest or the beach? Forest.

What is your favorite piece of advice that anyone has ever given you? Everything will be okay in the end

Are you a good liar? God no

What is your Hogwarts House? Hufflepuff

Do you talk to yourself? No

Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Extrovert

Do you keep a journal/diary? Nope

Do you believe in second chances? Yes, but not for all people

If you found a wallet full of money on the ground, what would you do? leave it probably

Do you believe that people are capable of change? Yes.

Are you ticklish? Yes.

Have you ever been on a plane? Yes.

Do you have any piercings? Nah

What fictional character do you wish was real? Jack Pearson :,,,,)

Do you have any tattoos? Nope

What is the best decision that you’ve made in your life so far? To go on anti-anxiety meds

Do you believe in karma? yep.

Do you wear glasses or contacts? No.

Do you want children? Sometimes

Who is the smartest person you know? -

What is your most embarrassing memory? -

Have you ever pulled an all-nighter? yep!!

What color are most of you clothes? Basically all of them

Do you like adventures? Sometimes?

Have you ever been on TV? Yes

How old are you? 15

What is your favorite quote? “We cannot become what we want by remaining what we are”

Do you prefer sweet or savory foods? What richard said

(if you read through that, thank you!!!

[pinknerdpanda]

@wheresthekillswitch @hannahindie @masksandtruths

[lavenderkitten88]

Let’s be inappropriate…

1) When was the last time you masturbated? It’s been a week or so

2) Do you enjoy being fingered/fingering? When it’s done well

3) How do you feel about food during sex? Eh… sounds messy, but it could be fun

4) What do you do directly after sex? Enjoy the afterglow

5) Cuddle with the tip in? Just the tip? Cuddle and cockwarming, please!

6) What’s the nastiest sexual thing you’ve done? Anal? I haven’t been able to explore too much

7) Name a follower you would fuck. I could name a few 🤫 😘 😸

8) Name a follower you have fucked. N/A

9) What’s the sexiest part of your body? Boobs

10) FuckMarryKill: DJ Khalid, Rick Ross, Fat Joe I don’t know any of theses people. After a quick google search, I guess Marry DJ, Fuck Fat Joe, Kill Rick Ross ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

11) Would you ever be with a trans person? Yes

12) Riding dick or doggy style? Doggy style. I need to build up my endurance to ride a dick😿

13) Ever fucked in a school? Nope

14) Most random place you’ve had sex? The bathroom of a friend’s business

15) Would you ever be part of the mile high club? That sounds very cramped… >.>

16) Name three of your spots. Throat, lower back, ass

17) Fuck on the first date? I’m open to it

18) Do you suck dick? Yes

19) Do you eat ass? I never have, but I would be willing

20) Do you eat pussy? No, I’m not that daring… yet

21) Do you like kissing? Yes, when my partner leads and there is passion

22) Is farting during sex sexy? Sexy… no, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. So it’s not a deal breaker

23) Ever fucked in the shower? Yes, hot shower sex. Mmmm! 😻

24) How old were you when you lost your virginity? 20

25) Do you prefer sex in the morning, afternoon, or night? Night, I like to fall asleep afterwards

26) Do you like drunk sex? I’ve never been drunk

27) Do you like high sex? I’ve never been high

28) FuckMarryKill: Nicki Minaj; Cardi B; Kash Doll I am a Nicki Minaj fan, so marry Nicki. I don’t know much about Cardi B or Kash Doll. Kash Doll is hot though, I’d Fuck her. Sorry Cardi B. Fuck Kash Doll, Marry Nicki Minaj, Kill Cardi B

29) When was your first kiss? I was 20

30) How did you meet the person you lost your virginity to? Church

31) Have you ever faked an orgasm? Oh yeah 🙄 😳

32) Ever painted/been painted on? Nope

33) You like sex toys? Love them! 😻

34) What’s your favorite sex position? Missionary

35) Sex on a bed, couch, or floor? Bed

36) Do you like car sex? Sexy to think about, not practical enough to be worth it.

37) You get instantly horny; what happened? Daddy said, “Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy? Or do you need a spanking?” Both, please!

38) FuckMarryKill: Trey Songz, Chris Brown, August Alsina. I am not celebrity savy. I’ve heard bad things about Chris Brown, Trey Songz looks pretty smokin’ hot. Fuck August. Marry Trey. Kill Chris.

39) Describe your crush. He would make a great Daddy, quirky, witty, philanthropist. It’s Misha Collins

40) Would you ever be with someone with an incurable STD? Probably

41) Rate your head game. Probably not great. I can’t deep-throat very well and I’m uncoordinated when using both mouth and hands. So, 4/10?

42) Rate your sex. My strength and endurance is terrible. I’m working on it, maybe 5/10 😳

43) Would you fuck someone outside of your race? Definitely

44) Describe the type of freak you are. Uhhh… Neat freak, Nerdy freak, Cat Freak, Animal/Bug Freak

45) Ever tasted your own nut/cum? Yes

46) Into golden showers? In the shower for easy cleanup

47) Body count: Under or Over 25? Under, by far

48) How do you feel about nipple play? Yes, please!!

49) Where do you like to be nutted on? Ass

50) Which are you better at: topping or bottoming? Bottom

51) What do you consider “too small?” I don’t know… under 5”?

52) Is play fighting foreplay? No

53) Do you like angry sex? Not angry. Rough sex is awesome!

54) How long should a quickie be? 5 minutes?

55) How long is “too long” to have sex? When exhaustion sets in

56) How long is “too long” to go without sex? The longest I’ve gone is 2 years, I think

57) Is “no” relevant in a relationship? Yes!

58) Do you believe in no-strings-attached sex? Yes

59) Would you have sex in a public bathroom? I have, it wasn’t great

60) Would you have sex in a changing room? Maybe

61) Who was the last person you had sex with? My husband

62) Describe your type. A Daddy

63) Name 3 turn-ons. Broad shoulders/wide chest, Dom voice, dirty talk

64) Name 3 turn-offs. Skinny, all talk/boasting, lack of mindfulness

65) Name something that would make you stop in the middle of sex. Lack of arousal

66) Would you answer a phone call during sex? Doubtful

67) Would you ever pay for sex? Possibly

68) Would you accept money for sex? Sugar Daddy? Yes, please!

69) How do you typically feel after sex? Good sex: warm afterglow. Bad sex: eh, unsatisfied

70) Do you like your body? For the most part

71) Ever sent nudes? Yes, once

72) Have you ever cheated on someone? No

73) Have you ever been cheated on? Not that I know of

74) Would you have a threesome? Definitely

75) Would you have a foursome? You bet

76) Would you take part in an orgy? That might be too much for me

77) Would you let’s train be ran on you? Uh… in real life, probably not. Fantasy land, I’m horny for it

78) How often do you masturbate? It comes and goes in clusters, usually right before or during my period 😩

79) Sex with the lights on or off? Both have appeal

80) Sex with music or tv in the background? No thank you, too distracting

81) Do you have a cousin you’d fuck if you weren’t related? Yes

82) In your last relationships, rate the sex? 5/10

83) Do you sleep naked? Panties only

84) How often do you go commando? Not often. Leakage feels icky

85) Are your nipples pierced? If not, would you get them pierced? No and no. Eep 😨

86) Do you dive right into sex, or converse first? Converse. Foreplay equals more play.

87) After taking your clothes off, what’s the first move? Present

88) Do you make the first move? No

89) Have you ever had sex with more than one person in a day? No

90) Do you like dry humping? Yes

91) Can you twerk or do a split on a dick? Unfortunately I am not that coordinated or flexible

92) Have you ever been recorded during sex? Not to my knowledge >.>

93) Do you watch porn during sex? I haven’t, but I would

94) After fucking, do you try becoming friends with a one night stand? If there is chemistry, sure

95) What’s your kink? Daddy

96) Would you hook up with the same hook-up again? Of course, if the sex was good

97) Ever made a relationship from a one night stand? No

98) How romantic are you during sex? Not very, I’m shy 😳

99) Describe your sex in 5 words or less. Awkward, stilted, over too quick

[talesofthemusicroom]

Playing freeze dance at the end of the day with the 1/2s, and I pause the music just in time for Uncoordinated Boy to smack into Fart Noise King, leading to the entire class being treated to “Ow you just kicked me in the wenis!” and Fart Noise King grabbing decidedly NOT his wenis while jumping around the room. I just started the music up again and pretended it hadn’t happened… that’s the mature responsible response, right? (For those who, like my students, lack an education in human body part slang, the wenis is actually the loose skin on your elbow. How do I know this? Because when I was their age, a “your wenis is showing!” fad took over the playground for several months, and it remains HILARIOUS. I chose not to inform my students.)

[momscookingthebooks]

Release Boost & Book Review

Title:  Winning Hard: A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance

Series: Chesapeake Blades Book 1

Author: Lisa B. Kamps

Publication Date:  November 15, 2017

Genre: Sports Romance – Women’s Hockey

Cliff Hanger: No

Add to your Goodreads TBR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36138491-winning-hard

4 Stars

*This story is for mature audiences only. Contains explicit scenes and language intended for adults 18+

Synopsis:

Taylor LeBlanc has hockey in her blood and the trophies and medals to prove it. Her dreams of playing pro come to an end when the only place for her to go is the newly-formed not-really-pro women’s team, the Chesapeake Blades. It’s not quite what she had in mind, but it’s a start—except half the team is convinced she's receiving special treatment because her step-dad used to be the head coach for the Baltimore Banners and the team's PR Director wants to use her in his marketing campaign. To make matters worse, the PR Director is none other than her childhood nemesis, Chuckie-the-fart--who happens to be all grown-up and too gorgeous for his own good.  Charles Dawson never had the drive or the heart to follow hockey out of childhood. What he does have is ambition and passion—two things he needs in abundance to successfully market the brand-new women's hockey team to a less-than-enthusiastic demographic. He also needs patience—something that’s in short supply when he’s forced to deal with the one woman who has the uncanny ability to make him feel like the bumbling, uncoordinated, and socially awkward thirteen-year-old boy he used to be. Taylor isn’t the mouthy little tomboy he remembers, and sparks fly between the two, igniting an attraction that makes both of their lives unbearable when it becomes harder to ignore.  Taylor and Charles both want to win, but at what cost? Are they willing to trample every obstacle in their way--especially when the biggest obstacle could be the one thing they both need more than any trophy or medal? 

My Thoughts:

Great concept for a new series; a Women’s Hockey League! This first book introduces characters and tells the struggles of the startup of the Women’s Hockey League. The league is somewhere between a recreational league and a professional league, and it shows how difficult it is for the women who chose to play. They face playing on inferior ice, inferior equipment, and low pay that has them having to work another job, sometimes two.

This first book is about Taylor (team captain and player) and Charles Dawson (PR Director for the Blades). They have a history of playing hockey as kids and Charles had a crush on her and he finds out he still does. Taylor comes from hockey royalty and she is scorned by some teammates because of who her family is. Taylor is very talented, and she works hard to prove that she belongs there. Then Charles is introduced at practice and Taylor can’t believe her eyes! Before her stands a gorgeous man not the bumbling, chubby 13-year-old boy. From that day forward Charles works hard to win her heart.

From the start I was captivated by this story. I love reading hockey romance about college and NHL players. I didn’t think I would like this as much but wanted to give it a try. I found I really liked it. The story had a lot of heart and dealt with not only the love story between Taylor and Charles (which was smoking hot); and the development of a team in a new league, dealing with clueless owner, also dealt with issues in the sports world like drug use, jealous and competing teammates, and the inequalities between the women’s league versus the men’s league. The secondary characters were entertaining, and I can’t wait to watch them develop as the series continues.

If you like sports romance, give this new series a try. I have a feeling you will enjoy it as much as I did. I can’t wait for the next book in this series!

ARC kindly provided for an honest review.

Pick up your copy of WINNING HARD at your favorite vendor: https://books2read.com/WinningHard

The Chesapeake Blades series continues with LOVING HARD, scheduled to release on January 17, 2018. Sometimes love is the hardest game of all...but is she willing to risk everything just to play? You can preorder your copy of LOVING HARD now by clicking the link: https://books2read.com/lovinghard

About the Author:

Lisa B. Kamps is the author of the best-selling series The Baltimore Banners, featuring "...hard-hitting, heart-melting hockey players..." [USA Today], on and off the ice. Her Firehouse Fourteenseries features hot and heroic firefighters who put more than their lives on the line. She's introduced a whole new team of hot hockey players who play hard and love even harder in her newest series, The York Bombers.

Her newest series, The Chesapeake Blades, focuses on the strong women of ice hockey and the men who love them.

Lisa currently lives in Maryland with her husband and two sons (who are mostly sorta-kinda out of the house), one very spoiled Border Collie, two cats with major attitude, several head of cattle, and entirely too many chickens to count. When she's not busy writing or chasing animals, she's cheering loudly for her favorite hockey team, the Washington Capitals--or going through withdrawal and waiting for October to roll back around!

Author Links:

Newsletter Signup: http://www.lisabkamps.com/signup

Website: http://www.lisabkamps.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisaBKamps

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LBKamps

Don't forget to join KAMPS KORNER, my Facebook Readers' Group!

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1160217000707067/

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2076185.Lisa_B_Kamps

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Lisa-B.-Kamps/e/B002J1ZXC8

[carcrash-cupcakes]

I won’t try to formulate a Victorian conversation between myself and the cat daughters, because I’ll be terrible at it. Our first born Zara is a very polite girl. She will gently pat you on the leg with her paw if you don’t give her snacks when she (very patiently) sits by the cabinet where her food and snacks are kept, looking back at you with big eyes. She is very quiet and will never alert you if she is stuck in a closet because she knows you’ll eventually realize, even if it takes all night. I don’t think she has ever farted. Loves lap snuggles, especially when her Nana’s hand-knit blanket is involved. Hide-and-seek is her favorite game. Expert house fly hunter. We have admired Zara’s grace and skill for nearly 4 years.

And then there is our second born, Leela, the loudest kitten in the universe who can somehow project her voice into every corner of the apartment as if she’s standing right next to you. She climbs you like a tree and rides around on your shoulder. Never stops eating. Always teetering between crazed and snuggly. Her range of vocalizations is awe inspiring - she barks, chortles, squawks, chirps, trills, cackles, pants (?!) and appears to ask “whyyyyy?” In the saddest and loudest way possible when she is returned to base camp for the night. Very suspicious of the dishwasher. A bit uncoordinated, but she’s becoming a top tier hunter. She is so joyful and weird, and we are so in love.

Me: *Removes my cat from my lap to do something else.*

My cat: Father is…evil? Father is unyielding? Father is incapable of love? I am running away. I am packing my little rucksack and going out to explore the world as a lone vagabond. I can no longer thrive in this household.

[carlfranzen]

Parenthood so far...

My wife gave birth to our first child, our daughter Edith, last week, on the day of the Great American Eclipse—August, 21, 2017.  She’s beautiful and loud and active and insatiably hungry (my daughter, that is).

A few quick reflections on my experience being a dad so far:

-They’re not kidding about the sleep deprivation thing: my wife and I are averaging about 3-4 hours a night, up from like 1-2 the first week Edith was here.

-I’m combatting this by drinking lots of guayusa drinks and other caffeinated beverages. The effect basically feels like being on an indefinite bender without the drugs (except caffeine and oxytocin). 

-Babies need to eat CONSTANTLY, like every 2 hours minimum. And breastfeeding is a fucking process—lots of pillows and props and then a pump involved. It is not a quick thing (yet).

-Same for changing diapers. We’re getting faster and more efficient at it but the little darling shits like a bull and pees like a racehorse so we are regularly getting up to change her. 

-My wife and I trade off watching her so the other one can sleep, but when I do sleep, I find Edith has already deeply infiltrated my consciousness—presumably through some sort of evolutionary instinct to keep my mind attuned to her existence and needs—and so I’ll wake up frantically grasping for her, even when she’s not there. My wife has experienced this feeling as well.

-We bought a bunch of shit, accessories and whatnot, for Edith before she was born. Turns out she doesn’t like most of it, and the stuff we actually DO need we only found out about after the fact and have ordered since, e.g. extra breastmilk bottles, a firm chair for feeding, a giant clock that we can read from across the room for keeping track of feeding and sleeping times, tiny newborn sleeveless shirts that are easy to put on and take off. 

-I wouldn’t trade any of this for the world. Edith’s face looks better to me than the face of every person I’ve ever met, all her floppy uncoordinated spastic movements bring joy to my heart. Even her cries and farts are music to my ears (hold your nose).

[veryscaredenby]

The Frying Pan Colon D, A Gay Pirate Story

Chapter 1

Black combat boots scraped the pavement, the wind howling by the harbor. Ray’s hands remained in their pockets as they made their way past all the ships and docks, humming a song of the sea to themselves. They passed many vessels, but none were the object of destination. No, they were walking to the very end, where there would be a sand-less, rocky beach. One can’t exactly dock a pirate ship in a public harbor.

A loud horn blare ripped through the seaside, assuring the pirate that their ride had arrived before they had even reached the rocks. Their grin grew wider and they sped up, now at a running pace. When they reached the rocks, they saw the silhouette of a young man leaned against the other side of the rocks, facing away from them, playing soft horn music. Beaming, Ray turned around and leaned against the rocks, their backs facing each other while they waited for the end of the song. Soft melodies filled the air as the man continued to ignore the presence of another. When the song reached its conclusion, they sat in silence for a bit longer, eyes closed and faces calm, till he let out a deep breath of content. Ray peeked open an eye but still didn’t turn around.

“Learned a new song while you were gone.” He said proudly. Shaking with excitement now, Ray turned around and catapulted themselves over the rocks to land next to their friend, and proceeded to tackle him in a bear hug.

“LUNO! I MISSED YOU!” Ray screamed, squeezing the unsuspecting friend tightly. He hugged back, with just as much fervor, and screamed “I MISSED YOU TOO!” Ray giggled and let go. “I miiisssseed youuuu,” they repeated, but more drawn out, patting his head of fluffy indigo hair.

“You’ve only been here a week, were you that bored?” He asked, leaning back against the rocks. Ray sighed, leaning back next to him, in matching positions: right leg kicked over the other and arms crossed.

“I wish, but that reminds me, we’re staying in town a bit longer,” they huffed, blowing the hair out of their face.

“What for?”

“Got a pretty big job we need to talk about at the ship.”

“What kinda big we talking about?” He inquired, a single eyebrow arched. Ray usually took care of small jobs every now and then, ranging from helping a friend move into their new apartment to dismantling a corporation. They had a reputation of helping those they wanted to, with little regard for the law.

“Oh you know, kidnapping royalty big. Not huge.”

“Oh damn, what did you get us into?”

“I’m not completely sure myself, we’re meeting again tomorrow. I just know I’ll need the crew for this one.”

Luno sighed, before continuing. “Guess we had better head back then.” He stepped away from the rocks a good distance after throwing the horn to Ray, who barely caught it and fumbled a bit, before giving a thumbs up with a big, goofy smile.

The wind picked up, throwing pebbles and small chunks of rock around, kicking dust up. Ray coughed a bit, hacking up particles of rock. Gross. Once the dust settled, and they had finished hacking up a lung, a large, dark blue dragon with golden accents across his body stood where the man previously had. He trotted back over, and motioned his head, signaling for them to get on his back.

“I think I just died from rock up my nose,” Ray grumbled while climbing up on top of him. The dragon jostled the leg they were climbing up, forcing them to grab on tighter. “I was just messing with you, meanie.”

Once the pirate was atop their dragon friend, they patted his neck and yelled into the wind as they took off. Luno was a normal-sized dragon, but still dwarfed measly humans like Ray, a singular claw was the size of their whole face, and his wingspan was wider than a house.

The pair flew over the water, nothing but another world of blue beneath them. When Ray had been younger, the idea of flying had seemed mystically impossible, a simple dream. Then again, they hadn’t imagined being a pirate who lived on the seas, but life takes funny turns sometimes.

In the distance, a large ship with bright sails of varying colors was on the water, bright with light, magical or just from candles, and loud. The ship was alive, and Ray could feel it from so far away. Luno sensed their excitement at coming back to the sea and snorted.

“Oh hush you, I’ve missed you guys,” Ray laughed, nudging him with their boot. When they arrived at The Frying Pan :D, as was written on the side, Luno hovered over for a sec while Ray jumped down, attempting to make a sick landing, but unfortunately, they happened to be very uncoordinated and fell in an empty barrel.

Music on the ship ceased and the SHING of swords being drawn could be heard. Ray heard a familiar beat of footsteps approach, which halted when the person was right next to the only thing that could truly contain Ray. There was a pause, but Ray gave in and looked upwards, and saw a bright cyan head of hair glaring down at them before they recognized the barrel person’s face.

“Ray!” the demi-girl cheered, which spurred on the cheering of the rest of the crew. Ray lifted their arms, their signature huge grin etched on their face and made grabby hands at the first mate. They sighed and reached down towards Ray and pulled them out of the offending barrel, while another person fell from the sky on his behind. “Oh, there you are Luno.”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine thanks for asking.” he sighed dramatically. Meanwhile, another strode through, barreling towards the purple-haired menace.

“Captain! We missed you!” Celine squealed, bouncing a bit, and earned a “NO WE DIDN’T” followed by laughter from some of the crew.

“For the love of hell please don’t call me that, if you won’t say my name at least say Sting or something.”

“You’ve got it Captain!”

“You know what maybe I didn’t miss y’all-“

“Ahem!” Luno coughed, demanding Ray’s attention. They turned to him, questioningly. “The job?” He elaborated, exacerbated.

“Oh yeah!” Ray exclaimed, remembering the topic of importance. With a loud scream, the crew’s attention was caught. “So, we’ve got a job.” An uproar went about the crew. Usually Ray did jobs by themself, it was only the super big ones that demanded the crew’s help. “Ah cheeses, SHUT UP YOU FART BAGS!”

They shut up.

“Let me rephrase that. We might have a job. It’s extremely risky, and dangerous, and almost certainly very, very fun.”

“Who in their right mind came to you for that?” The first mate jeered, earning a playful whack across the head.

“Shut up Ryn, some rich tailor boy. Says he wants us to kidnap the princess.” Ray told, rather nonchalantly. The crew ceased chatter.

“You didn’t say yes did you?” Ryn demanded, serious now. Ray shifted uncomfortably.

“Well no-“

“Because even you understand that’s stupid right?”

“Well hey now-“

“Ray!”

“Look I didn’t say yes! I said I’d come here and talk it over with you guys!” Ray defended, nervously sweating. They didn’t exactly want to face the wrath of Ryn at the moment.

“There is a line! There is a line between doing what’s right, and doing what’s stupid!”

“You haven’t even heard the reason!” The captain protested. Sure they were in charge, but they were nothing without the support of all the crew. It needed to be unanimous.

“What’s the reason then?!” Ryn inquired, crossing her arms.

“Love! It’s an epic romance, he’ll have to tell me again tomorrow because I truly don’t remember all the details...” Ray explained, a mischievous glint in their eyes as they trailed off, looking at both Ryn and Luno. The look that said, ‘I have more to say but not yet.’ Sighing, Ryn nodded and dropped it for now. “Anyways! My first night back in a week, tell me everything!” They yelled to the crew, walking amongst them.

“How do you think this one will turn out?” Luno asked Ryn, the pair still at the front of the ship, watching their eccentric friend catch-up.

“Horribly.”

———————————

“Tell me you have a plan and it's going to be fabulously perfect, or I’ll just die.”

“Oh Ryn you think so little of me,” Ray laughed, following Luno and Ryn into their chamber. The Captain’s Chamber on The Frying Pan :D was nothing elaborate, simply a few chests here and there, a bed, and a desk that had papers, pens, and markers strewn all across it. That’s what the three were currently standing around. “I have a plan, but I wouldn’t say it's fabulously prefect.”

“Well then oh what are we to do, to solve this lack of fabulousness?” Luno sighed dramatically. 

“Well our guy, Nate, wants his princess to not marry this nobody she’s about to marry. He wants us to kidnap her, sail around a bit, and then bring her to him. Now I think this is a pretty stupid plan, but also I think kidnaping a princess would be pretty fuckin fun,” Ray laughed, falling into a chair that was behind them at the desk.

“Oh yeah lets go kidnap a princess and die, that sounds like so much fun,” Ryn replied dryly, unimpressed.

“I agree with your words, but you make it seem like you don’t agree,” Ray was exaggeratedly frowning, trying to make puppy dog eyes but instead ended up looking more like a depressed donkey. 

“You have a strange idea of fun.”

“Luno, we’re pirates, what else are we supposed to do? Go hug some old ladies?”

“The whole reason you left for a week was because you wanted to comfort a friend who had a rough break up. Very pirate-y.”

“Irrelevant!”

“Why do you even want to kidnap her?” Ryn interrupted, continuing the conversation.

“Well, Nate gave me some pretty weird vibes. Not a fan of his whole, “she’s mine and only mine” deal. So after going to talk with him tomorrow, I’m going to judge his character a little harsher, see what I think, and then we move on from there. If he’s a total weirdo, we kidnap the princess, and betray him, and ask her about how she feels about this whole marriage situation. If she wants to stay she can stay. If he’s not a weirdo we still kidnap her, ask her if their love is requited, and then we continue from there.”

“That’s your whole plan? Why do you want to kidnap her so bad anyways? Ransom money?” Luno asked, genuinely curious this time. Ryn’s face perked up at that.

“I like the way you think, but I just think it’d be fun.” 

“Alright, I’m in, but only on the possible promise of ransom money.” Ryn negotiated, giving in.

“What do you want the ransom money for anyways?” Luno asked, drumming some pencils against the desk. Ray smiled, grabbing some pencils and happily drumming along.

“Wanna get more comics for the island.”

The island was referred to as Rainbow Rule. Yeah, the people there weren’t great with names, they knew that. It was where the pirates of The Frying Pan :D would most often dock for longer periods of time. It was hidden from the normal eye through a fog controlled by the magical inhabitants of the island, who mostly consisted of merpeople and magically inclined humans, with the occasional fairy or dragon. It wasn’t exactly wealthy, so it’s where a lot of the crew’s treasure went, and they appreciated things from the mainland. 

“Oh yeah, Luno,” Ray got up and bowed down and spoke in a mock-fancy accent, “would you be so kind as to accompany me tomorrow? I might need a second opinion. Ryn, you’ll be in charge of the ship again.” 

“Yeah yeah Lord Fancy Pants,” Luno sighed at Ray’s oddness, while Ryn gave a half-assed salute before turning on their heel and leaving the cabin. The remaining two smiled at the action, before turning to each other.

“You’re gonna get us into a big mess huh?”

“Possibly...”

_______________

0. Prologue

1. Chapter 1

An: WOO HOOOOO I GOT THE FIRST REAL CHAPTER OUT! Anyways this took me a lot longer then i thought it would considering the prologue was written in literally one night- ANYWAYS

So i’ve got two, three-ish of our crew mates in the story! So just for reference,

Luno: He/they

Ryn: She/ They

Ray: They/Them

Celene: She/her

anyways i thought that was important. I really hope you guys enjoyed my awful writing lol

also don’t worry this isn’t gonna be a “poor defenseless princess story”

[bouncingtigger10]

New Post has been published on The Bouncing Tigger Reads

New Post has been published on http://www.tiggerreviews.com/darcie-tells-us-about-cornwall/

Darcie tells us about Cornwall

Darcie Boleyn

Can you tell your readers something about why you chose this particular topic to write about? What appealed to you about it?

When I’m plotting a romance novel, one of the things I have to consider is what trope or tropes I would like to include. Often, the tropes come organically from the characters themselves and their backgrounds. With The House at Greenacres, I had a vision of the main character, Holly, returning to Penhallow Sands for a funeral, emotional and anxious, clutching a baby to her chest. This developed into the knowledge that Holly and her ex boyfriend, Rich, have been separated for some reason, and now, the thing that brings them back together is Holly’s grandfather’s funeral. I enjoy mixing tropes in my stories, so I combined the lovers reunited trope with the secret baby trope. I also wanted to write a story about what it’s like to come home after time away, about how emotional it can be to return to the place where you grew up and to see it from a different perspective.

How long do you think about a topic before deciding to write about it? Do you have a set of notes or a note book where you write down topics that appeal before making a decision as to which topic this time?

I write notes all the time and have notebooks all around my house as well as notes on my phone. I might not start working on an idea properly for months if I’m already working on a different project, but it will often be bubbling away at the back of my mind, waiting for its turn to be nurtured into a novel.

How long does it take to research a topic before you write? And for this book?

I did a lot of reading about vineyards and contacted a vineyard owner to research for The House at Greenacres. It was fascinating to learn about how a vineyard works and how wine is made. I researched before writing and during to ensure that I got the finer details right.

What do you read when you are ill in bed?

I rarely get to read in bed these days as I have two children and three dogs, so if I am ill, it’s time on the sofa in the lounge. I read whatever is next on my TBR pile as I have a very full Kindle and a table piled high with paperbacks.

What have you done with the things you wrote when in school?

I was always writing poetry and prose as a child and I still have some of them stored in the attic. When I was 12, I won a school poetry competition with a poem about Wildlife in Nature and I had to stand up in front of the whole school and read my poem out. I won a £12 book token and I was delighted. I also wrote a project about guide dogs when I was 13 and really enjoyed researching the topic as it meant contacting charities and speaking to people with guide dogs. I think that project is in the attic too. I’ll have to take a look…

Do you have any pets?

I do! I have three dogs – two British bulldogs called Spike and Zelda and a rescue greyhound called Freya. They are my writing buddies as they join me in the study and snore gently while I write. As I’m home alone all day, they are good company. As for funny things, one has to be the farting (especially the greyhound!) and the other is that Spike often sings along to my music. I also have three bearded dragons called Andrew, Loki and Cheeky.

What, in your life, are you most proud of doing?

I was a teacher for twenty years and once, when I went for an interview at a school, the governors asked me what I was most proud of doing. At the time, my daughter was only a year old, and my answer was having my daughter. Of course, that wasn’t what they were looking for (they wanted something teaching related), but it came straight from my heart. My children are my greatest achievements, along with marrying my husband, because I never thought I’d fall in love so deeply. Nothing is guaranteed in life except for today, but being able to love is one of the greatest gifts of all; being loved in return is priceless. However, in terms of my writing career, I’d say I’m most proud of being published. I always dreamt of being an author, but never thought it would happen. To date, it has been a wonderful, exciting rollercoaster. I am proud every time I finish writing a book and every publication day. I am grateful to the publishers who have accepted my work and to the readers and bloggers who read my stories and support me. I am grateful to my agent for taking me on. I am grateful to my family for being the centre of my world.

Thanks for hosting me! J X

Author Bio

Previous Books: Summer at Connwenna Cove, Christmas at Conwenna Cove, Forever at Conwenna Cove, Love at the Northern Lights and Love at the Italian Lake

Darcie Boleyn has a huge heart and is a real softy. She never fails to cry at books and movies, whether the ending is happy or not. Darcie is in possession of an overactive imagination that often keeps her awake at night. Her childhood dream was to become a Jedi but she hasn’t yet found suitable transport to take her to a galaxy far, far away. She also has reservations about how she’d look in a gold bikini, as she rather enjoys red wine, cheese and loves anything with ginger or cherries in it – especially chocolate. Darcie fell in love in New York, got married in the snow, rescues uncoordinated greyhounds and can usually be found reading or typing away on her laptop.

Author Photos:

Twitter: @DarcieBoleyn

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[kevinseamon]

Weddings

When I was a kid, weddings were always cause for a celebration: My parents would go to the wedding and my brother and I would be blessed with a babysitter and a trip to Blockbuster. Couldn't beat it with a stick.

As a youngster, the only understanding I had of what went on at a wedding was people dressed up and took pictures. Secretly, I believed the groom wore a top hat and a tux and the bride wore a white cocktail dress and to consummate the marriage, they danced like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers on the altar of the church (a lot to unpack there, but the main thing is that I couldn't imagine a wedding NOT in a church).

After high school, and seeing a slew of my classmates become pregnant and have amazing children without the church dance, I started to develop a more grounded belief in the institution. Even though my parents had been married for almost 30 years at that point (and are still together in spite of god and each other), I was beginning to attain the realization that "people are people always," regardless of their social stature or relationship status. And weddings were not some mystical taming of the green flame dance that signified a unity of spirit - they were expensive ass parties that allowed the friends of the couple in question to eat and drink to their hearts content in celebration of personal histories and bonds.

I worked in a funeral home in high school. It was a part of my tearing-down-preconceived-notions-of-Irish-Catholic-spirituality tour (getting a front row seat for death helped me get over the anxieties I suffered because of the heaven and hell thing). While there, I made friends with my co-worker Jimmy over Kurt Russell movies, back pack rap, and an affinity for cheap whiskey. He and his girlfriend met, dated, and got engaged all in the time that he and I were also developing our friendship. This resulted in my being invited to his wedding. My first wedding.

I wish this story was about that wedding. It isn't, though, because that wedding was a dream. They got married and had the reception at Liberty House in Liberty State Park in Jersey City, overlooking the southern tip of Manhattan on a beautiful night in September. The DJ played Rock Lobster twice because I asked. Dream.

My second wedding was less so.

The wedding was for the son of the owner of the funeral home for which I worked. He invited me to his wedding because we were co-workers and distant cousins, not because we were friends. As I've gotten older and can conceivably get married someday, I will not be inviting the me-at-that-times in my life.

The wedding would be in a beautiful church at the Jersey Shore and there would be an expensive reception and an open bar and Jimmy offered to drive Hildegard (this name has been changed to protect the currently successful), my date, and me to the wedding.

Jimmy, Hildegard, and I shared a flask of Jack Daniels in the car. Jim's wife, Cathy, was pregnant, and driving, and more tolerant than we deserved. She remains a saint. We arrived at the church and put on a brave face for the next hour and a half of Catholicism.

Having grown up in the church, I was used to the rhetoric, but it's always funny to go to a wedding in a church where half the congregation hasn't been to a service in a while - I imagine it would be like watching me do yoga: Uncoordinated, sweaty, and worried about farting. This church service was filled with the lapsed, including Hildegard, so at the end of mass, it was a rush for the front door, to remove ourselves from beneath the watchful eye of a vengeful and righteous creator. I was also starting to get an oughta-drink-more headache, so it was time to go.

The back of church was the typical procession: parents of bride and groom stood by the happy couple shaking hands and thanking people for coming. We waited on line, buzzes wearing off, heat beginning to get to us, and began to greet the family. Bride: "you look beautiful." Groom: "Congrats brother." Parents of the Bride: "Congratulations." Mother of the groom: "You look wonderful, what a happy day." Father of the groom -

Here was the issue. One can reasonably grease through a gauntlet of congratulations when pretty drunk because the objects of your empty gestures are all meeting you half way with an equal emptiness: "Yeah, we know you can't wait to get to the open bar either, fatty, keep it moving." The father of the groom, however, was unable to call me fat, or anyone fat for that matter. He suffered from ALS. His physicality was limited, despite his mind being sharp. He was the final piece of our exit. Everyone who knew the situation had reached out and took his hand, as he was unable to take theirs. Hildegard, however, unfortunately, did not recognize this situation.

She stood in front of the patriarch of the family, hand out, waiting...waiting...

waiting.

The man looked at her with the darkest glare his face could muster. I turned around to catch the tail end of the moment: Hildegard, awkwardly and drunkenly swaying, looking amused and confused, while the rest of the congregation stared daggers through her. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably all of five seconds, I nod-apologized to the father and took Hildy's hand and swiftly went to exit the church...

And immediately fell down the stairs.

The dust settled, and the moment of Hildy making the groom's father look weak had passed. The moment was now, "Who let THIS guy in?" "Is that Joan's son!?" The answers were, respectively, "Irish Catholic guilt," and, "yes it definitely is, please don't tell her."

Jimmy and Cathy were laughing quite hard as we piled back into the car for the trek to the reception. Hildegard was still mortified at her interaction, but that tension had passed for the rest of the crowd. And, my fall recovery was actually humorous enough to smooth over the embarrassment. We walked into the reception mostly with a clean slate.

Which we immediately doused in gin and tonics.

It was 2007 and I was 20. Even though I'd been drinking for a few years prior, this was my first open bar without the watchful eye of my parents around. Hildegard and I took full advantage of the situation. We drank enough gin and tonics to make the magician at the cocktail hour fun (at least I think he was a magician, we might have also just been playing cards with the waiters).

And, we went drink for drink. This proved to be a problem. I weigh 200+ lbs and Hildegard is maybe 98 lbs in a downpour. After five heartily-poured drinks, I was WC Fields and Hildy was a plastic bag in a gust of wind.

As we sat down at the table to eat. It was here that my having been invited as a result of guilt was clear: We were sitting with outliers. Jimmy and Cathy were at a different table. Hildegard and I were with the owner of the gas station around the corner from the funeral home, the local florist, and a few other distant acquaintances who all seemed to be invited on account of "doing the right thing."

Also, they were all in their at least 50s, and so the two blackout 20-year-olds did not go unnoticed.

Hildy, after ordering a glass of red wine at the table, promptly put her arm out in front of her, and slammed her head down onto the table, beginning a classic process known as "passing the fuck out."

The gas station owner, seated to my right, had a handlebar mustache and a soul patch, and was wearing a Sear Sucker suit that didn't fit well and his collar was twisted underneath a bulbous neck...and still managed to be more judgmental than I've ever since encountered: "Maybe you should get her out of here, son. Looks like you've both had enough."

Alright, Foghorn Legorn, I thought, that's fine. I stood up and balanced Hildegard on my side and we dragged our asses outside to the curb.

As I lit up the joint I brought, I heard a familiar prelude: the burping and moaning of someone about to pray to the porcelain god. There was no porcelain afforded to her, sadly, and with a joint in one hand and her hair in the other, Hildegard put half a bottle of Tanqueray into the gutter. After she was empty, I sat next to her and we both looked up at the blue Jersey Shore sky.

Cathy and Jimmy exited the reception hall later to find Hildegard and I still on the curb, afraid to go back into the reception. God forbid we open ourselves up to any further criticism. Despite having had a blast, we were both mortified of how we'd behaved, and were worried about not just seeing the people in there again, but would I even have a job come Monday? Would they call the police on us? Were we going to get in serious trouble?

The answer, thankfully, was no.

In fact, we had stopped being the story. The groom's two cousins got in a drunken fistfight on the dance floor that had spattered blood on other guests. The two drunk kids who fell asleep and then disappeared would no longer be the take away. Forgiveness, had been bestowed upon us by the classic Irish Catholic inability to express one's emotions without bloodletting.

At that, the four of us began the long drive from the shore back up to New Brunswick. Jimmy had refilled the flask after slipping the bartender a $20. Cathy put on her Amy Winehouse mix cd. Hildegard rested her head on my shoulder and we made our way up Rt. 18 - wiser, happier, and more prepared for the shit shows to come. It was a moment of clarity. As the blue Jersey sky turned black, I rolled down the glass and took in the last gusts of beach air.

Then, Hildegard vomited across my chest and out the window, giving the white VW Passat a chunky pink racing stripe.

We stopped at a Hess gas station and under the green neon lights I used the windshield squeegie to de-louse the car.

I learned a valuable lesson about weddings that night: People only remember the last thing they saw. And if you can't help but be consistently embarrassing, try to limit the viewing audience.