#(she’s doing further career research for what she really wants to do)

[kechiwrites]

tepid

nanami kento x reader! kinktober countdown day 7 (b d s m)

synopsis: “I’m looking for someone to give me control.” He expects his statement to draw some sort of response out of you, but your face remains placid and cool, the only hint that he’s said anything, the gentle upcurve at the corner of your lips. Kento finds himself wanting to muss up your curated exterior, wants to crush that tepid facade under the rough surface of his fingers.

wc: 2.8k

cw: fem + afab!reader but no gendered language, bdsm + D/s dynamics, sex worker!reader, salary man!kento, angst, potentially unrequited love, mentions of unprotected sex, begging, oral sex (m!receiving), jealousy, bondage, brat-taming, toys, mdni.

author's note: FINALLY DONE. JESUS. writing/doing research for medic reader x ghost, then touched starved konig, really impressed on me how powerful saying a man’s name can be. they love that shit. thank you to kitten for proofing and to ketsl + kee for helping originate this story and giving me tiktoks as fuel.

The waitress places a teacup in front of you, plain white, with a matching saucer. The steam of which coils upwards and dissipates before it can graze your chin. Your posture is upright, but not rigid and Kento finds himself correcting his slouch to mirror you. Your ‘thank you’ to her is accompanied with a blindingly bright smile, visibly jarring the waitress, who must face the gruff, deep terseness of truckers all day. She smiles back, turning and retreating with a lighter step than when she came.

Your grin tapers down to a lukewarm smile when you face him again, and it makes Kento ache, though for what, he’s not quite sure. “I think we should start with what you’re looking for, Nanami.”

Your words from the week before ring in his mind;

He brought his champagne flute to yours, eyes twinkling under the ballroom’s low lighting. The blue of your dress is nearly black, and it wraps your figure perfectly, cresting over hip and thigh as though it was made for you. Hell, with the average tax bracket of the guests surrounding the two of you, it could’ve been. 

“And what is it you do?” his question seems to startle you for a moment, and your eyes swing to the side of him, looking for your date, he presumes. Quickly, however, you school your features into a warm kind of indifference. 

“There are people who need to cede their control, to relax. And people who want control ceded to them by someone. I’m that someone.” You bring your glass to your bottom lip, drinking deeply, to avoid further explanation, or to buy yourself time, Kento isn’t sure. Still, the realization of what you mean, what your career is, and potentially why you’re here, sends a tingle down his spine, curls warm and heavy in his stomach. Urges him to take your business card when it’s offered, and make the arrangements to meet with you a week later.

“I’m looking for someone to give me control.” He expects his statement to draw some sort of response out of you, but your face remains placid and cool, the only hint that he’s said anything, the gentle upcurve at the corner of your lips. Kento finds himself wanting to muss up your curated exterior, wants to crush that tepid facade under the rough surface of his fingers.

“I’m sure I can help you with that.”

He settles for tearing at the napkin under his coffee mug.

✧

When you meet again, it’s to discuss your terms. Time with you costs a pretty penny and if Kento was so dead set on what he had pitched in the diner, he was looking at a very extended payment plan. 

He drags his spoon across the bottom of his coffee cup, stirring at the remaining sugar, unmelted at the bottom. He’d added it too late. He hates that. 

“How long will you need me, Kento?” You ask. You keep saying his name, over and over. 

“Do you frequent this place often, Kento?”

“Have you done this before, Kento?” 

“Do you know what you want, Kento?”

It drives him crazy, gives him this frantic itch at the back of his knee so bad that it makes him jostle the limb, like he’s a dog, eager for a treat. For attention.

It’s that itch that keeps him from saying “forever”. From insisting on something he just knows you can’t give. 

“Three months. I want three months. Not everyday, just-”

“Regularly.“ you cut him off. “I understand, Kento.” Your smile is so sweet. Unmelted crystals of sugar, smeared between your nose and chin.

“No one else.” He mutters, chin tucked to his chest, gaze snagged on the candy red linoleum, where he rereads the same scratched in message. 

‘thee hotties were here.’

It forces an exhale out of his nose, and when he can finally bring himself to stare at you, he’s relieved to see the smile you gave the waitress. But this time, it’s for him.

“No one else.” You agree. And Kento feels like he’s breathing for the first time since he sat down.

✧

“So…” Kento tests one of the straps holding your limbs in place. It’s thick, dark, leather, the expensive kind you have to order from a specialty shop in Amsterdam. 

“So…” you respond, and you’re on your knees, nearly naked, at the foot of the lush, grand hotel bed (neutral ground, you’d said) and Kento is above you, standing, not naked. But you have the power here, you’re the one with experience, with stories, with the do’s and the don’t’s, and the not ever’s, not even once.

It’s not quite what he envisioned, and it’s nothing like the porn he watched. But you with that wide belt around your waist? With matching cuffs attached, cuffs that he helped you put your ankles into, that he secured the buckles for? It’s better. Better than the wet dreams and the research and the tight fist around the base of his cock the day after you first spoke in the diner. 

He crosses his arms and just stares, eating up the visual. 

“What?” You ask, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue. “You don’t like attitude?”

And he doesn’t know what he likes. But he knows he wants to learn. 

You start slow, taking him through the motions, explaining what exactly you have experience with, what both of your limits are, what his safe word should be, what he wants out of this.

And then, after all the discussion is said and done, he fucks your throat on and off for an hour.

After session one, you and Kento decide on twice a week.

✧

It turns out, Kento does not like “attitude”. But he does like reform. Likes for you to start sessions with a foul mouth, with rolling eyes and put upon sighs and ribs about him being an old man. Then he likes to fuck it out of you. Overwork your body until the only thing you can do is tremble underneath his palms. He likes to use his knee to press a wand to your clit until you soak the thigh of his dress pants, then he likes to up the setting from two to four and watch your chest cave in on itself. 

He likes to guide your limbs into a spreader bar and slide his tongue from the cleft of your ass to your clit. Adores watching you count the strokes of his dick inside you when your bent in half so he can fuck you in a mating press.

Kento likes the way your skin looks against shiny black leather and pristine white bed sheets. He likes how you look in lacey lilac lingerie with his favourite tie stuffed in your mouth. 

But above all, Kento loves how you look with his hands on you, on your throat, across your back, guiding your head down, or your hips up. His fingers inside you, his palm wrapped around your wrists, his forearms holding up your thighs. 

You make the dwindling amount in his savings worth it. 

You make his nights seem less lonely.

You give him something to look forward to.

✧

It’s nearly a month into your arrangement. Nine sessions, nine nights in the same hotel room, or one that looks exactly like it. Nine meetings in the lobby, nine instances of you looping your arm around Kento’s and walking together to the front desk, then to the elevators. Nine times Kento has peered over your shoulder and into the large leather purse you bring with you every time, eager to see what you’ve planned for him today. It’s always a surprise, unless he’s looked something up and texted it to you, or gotten something express shipped. 

But this time, the tenth time, things are different. This time he meets you at the station by his apartment, at 6 PM on the dot. This time when you walk arm in arm, he gets eight glorious minutes of it. This time, he doesn’t have to check in with the front desk receptionist with the icy eyes and disingenuous smile who always seems to be working when Kento rents a room. 

This time, you've both taken adequate measures, sharing clear bills of health and a firm set of boundaries, everything in place for Kento to forgo condoms for the first time. The hotel you regularly use for your sessions just didn’t seem concrete enough, felt hopelessly sterile, anonymous. And Kento likes to think you like him just a little bit more than your average hotel room client.

He has to think that way, or he’d never have the courage to see you again.

So at his behest, you’re in his space, in his drab beige and white apartment and he can hardly believe it. You drape your jacket over the back of one of his unremarkable dining chairs, and the sleek brown leather simultaneously blends in and stands out, he eyeballs it, while you look around, hears you comment on the amount of books he has everywhere, but he can’t respond, can’t part his gaze from the indelible foreignness of your things in his home. And when you catch him staring at the coat before he can casually look away, you fret aloud.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Kento. Should I have hung it up?” He watches you frown, your eyebrows coming together, separated by a miniscule wrinkle. He’s never seen that expression on you before.

He shakes his head, head already in a daze. You’re a worrier. You wring your hands. 

He hadn’t known that.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gets closer, tears his eyes from your clothing and approaches. Instead of assuring you he doesn’t mind, could not care less, the salaryman puts his hands on you, watches you sink into familiar territory, watches your eyes darken and your lips part and Kento Nanami nearly preens when you shiver. 

“I’ll feed you.” He speaks softly, and he kisses you. Then quickly amends; “After.”

And it might be too much. Too intimate, to share a meal after you let him smack you across the face, and wrap his hand around your throat, and press his thumb over your tongue and fuck you unprotected.

But he doesn’t care.

And neither, it seems, do you.

“After.” You repeat. “Sounds good.” 

And you smile.

✧

Three days after his tenth session with you, he sees you, outside, in regular clothing, not a ball gown or lingerie or nothing at all, but in a black t-shirt and baggy, soft looking jeans, and you’re blinking and smiling and laughing with some man. You’re in a coffee shop across from his workplace, and he can see you from his office’s window. (They’re small time, only on the second floor of a mega-corporation building, and up until that very moment, he had liked being able to see other people from his cubicle).

The man gets up, and Kento hopes he stumbles into the street and gets hit by a car, not hard enough to kill him, but hard enough that he can’t leave the hospital for a few days. 

He returns shortly, with a drink for you, in a large white to-go cup. You don’t ask him anything. Don’t check the cup for details, you just take a sip and smile, slow and satisfied.

Kento blows out a large breath, turns to his desk and fishes out a small, amber pill bottle boasting the illegible, worn-down name of a medication ending in -loft or -pril or -pene. He tips it directly into his mouth, crunching down on two pills before he chucks the bottle across the room.

Kento doesn’t know how you take your coffee. If you even drink it at all. You had tea at the diner, and he was so busy with his own drink, with his own neurosis, he doesn’t remember what you added. 

He calls you. Watches you pick up the phone and excuse yourself to the street outside.

Now, you meet four times a week. He starts doing overtime again.

✧

“Say it.” All the lights are off in your bedroom, save a salt lamp glowing pink on your end table in the corner. It hadn’t stopped Kento from eating up every detail of how you lived with his eyes. He saw the few pieces of underwear you’d shoved under your bed. The one pot of soup? Pasta sauce? You’d left unwashed on your stovetop. The framed picture of you and your mother or aunt or older cousin on your overstuffed dresser.

It had to be one of those. The resemblance was undeniable. 

“Please.” You gasp, and wrench up off your bed, trying in vain to fight against the thick leather restraints keeping you spread eagle before him. The rabbit vibrator inside is blush pink and vibrating at full speed so deep inside you, twisted so it won’t touch your clit.

“You’re better than that, you beg better than that. Don’t make me drag it out of you. Beg. Me.” Kento can hear himself, can hear just how untethered, frayed he sounds. Every downward strike of his hand against your inner thighs is accompanied by a flash of you sipping from that godforsaken off-white coffee cup and smiling like the man from the coffee shop understands you, warm, comfortable. 

Does he know who the woman in the photo with you is? 

“Ken, Sir. Please, please let me come. I’m sorry for being a brat. Please.”

“Who gives you what you need?” He crouches down, sliding a finger along the straining line of your throat. Your lips are slick with your own spit, he’d enjoyed the gag for a bit, but your voice desperately warbling his name would always be better than the visual stimulation. Tear tracks have dried at the corners of your eyes, remnants of the first orgasm he’d ruined for you.

You are so goddamn pretty.

“You do.” You hiss, body arched and shaking, as if you could move the vibrator yourself if you fidgeted enough. He could hear how wet you were, could see beads of sweat pearl on your heated skin,

“Always?”

“Always.” 

✧

Meals after, sometimes before, become a regular occurrence. Usually Kento cooks for you. Sometimes you cook for him. Once, and never again, you got to his place before him, hefting a paper bag of groceries he insisted on compensating you for. When you called him, he had only a few minutes left at work, and the station was so close. So he told you where he kept his extra key. Told you to let yourself in. And you had. 

And when Kento got home, bone tired and overworked and wanting nothing more than to press his mouth to yours for hours, you welcomed him home. Eyes bright, smile hot and melting and so sincere.

And you had made dinner. For the both of you.

✧

“It was a pleasure serving you Kento.” You’re huddled in a winter coat, and briefly, Kento thinks about how fast the weather turned, how you chatted and teased and charmed a man that wasn’t him in a t-shirt two months ago, and now your arrangement with him is ending and you needed a scarf, and gloves. 

“Mm. I enjoyed our time together.” He feels like a liar, feels like the pills he took before this weren’t enough, He can hear his blood roar in his ears. Cold bites through his coat. His nose is probably red. He hates that, reminds him of being a child, small and out of control and sniffling with a fever, at home, missing school. 

Unmelted sugar in cooling barley tea.

“I…” You peter off, and frown. You stick your hands in your pocket and shrug. “Do you want to hug? I think we should…” You don’t finish that sentence either, you just open your arms at him and approach. Wrap your arms around him and squeeze. And Kento doesn’t like PDA, finds it uncomfortable and embarrassing, but he thinks if the two of you stayed on the sidewalk, hugging forever, that would be fine too. He wonders if the people sidestepping around you on the sidewalk think you’re a couple. Think you’re married. 

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

He can smell your hair. 

When you finally pull back, you stare at him, eyes wide, mouth tense. So he kisses your lips, and it’s obviously not the first time, he can kiss you whenever he wants, tilt your head back and slide his tongue into your eager, panting mouth when he fucking feels like it. Because he pays for it.

But he didn’t pay for this one. He drinks from your mouth again, once, twice, three times. Sucks and bites at the surface of your bottom lip and he would chew and swallow every bit of expensive Dutch leather you own to do it for the rest of his life.

✧

“Three more months,” he says, when you answer the phone two weeks later, and he can hear his own heartbeat when you don’t immediately respond. 

“I-if you’re sure.” You answer, and it’s the first time you’ve deferred to him outside of play. Gave him an out. No sugar crystal smile in tepid coffee. 

He wishes he could see your face.

“I’m sure.”

so...how are we holding up? :) find the rest of the masterlist here.

[romanreignseater]

This Is Cinema.

Jey Uso x Black Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; consensual pornography & rough times 🤫.

“You know what they say about the Bloodline, them boys make CINEMA!!”

A/N: That Jimmy fic is on hold until further notice 😤 (that boy made me so mad). I do have another Jey fic, but this was TOOO good for me to not upload first!! Hope you enjoy 💋!!”

GIF: @jeygif

Another day of work, another asshole to deal with.

Or so you thought.

Working as “pornstar”, but your preferred term of “adult film star”, was something you didn’t see yourself doing when you were a teen. The idea of getting nude in front of a camera with loads of crew surrounding as you do something that seems so sacred was weird to you back then. But, once college didn’t work out, you had other plans.

One of your homegirls who started off doing porn and soon ventured into the world of OnlyFans gave you the idea to start. And honestly… it was one of the best decisions you’ve made!!

You were soon living lavishly in Tampa, Florida, with $6 million to your name, the most gorgeous mansion, a brand new bright pink Range Rover, the cutest teacup poodle named Rex, food in your fridge, and bills paid. All in under a year.

Regardless of what people may say about you on the internet… sweetheart they were paying your bills.

You were working with some of the best in the industry and millions of views on those videos. Your career seemed to be at its pinnacle, but your manager informed you that there was a group of men starting off in the industry and absolutely taking over. In a little over five months, they were rated the top pornstars in the world.

Hundreds of millions of views on each of their videos and numerous women wanting to start a career just to be able to be near them. Working with them would not only boost your career even further, but to get a chance to fuck a handsome ass Samoan, yes please. In the words of your manager, “We gotta get that dick.”

An interesting choice of words, but you trusted every piece of advice she gave you. Soon, you were on a flight to the ATL to meet up with one of the members of the infamous group.

Doing your research the night prior to your flight, there were three brothers and a cousin. Roman, the cousin, was the oldest and definitely the biggest. A set of twins, Jimmy and Jey, and their younger brother, Solo, who didn’t look so little.

Roman was the one who wasn’t the most booked, as he only worked with the best of the best. Viewers only seeing his work every once in a while. But, when he dropped a video you knew it was gonna be heat. The absolute passion in his strokes and darkness in his eyes made you bite your lip at his raw manly magnitude.

Jimmy was fairly booked, with his whole month practically full. Most of his content involved acting with a lot of backstory. Really diving deep into massive rounds of role play and foreplay. That boy didn’t play games once that time came around though.

Next was Solo. He was working with a lot of underground stars and still reaching the levels of the ones older than him. Yet, he picked up those levels quick. Reaching the heights of his family and making women reach their climax at the same time.

But, the one who really caught your eyes was Jey. He was the definition of your ideal man. His warm-looking tan skin, his beautiful curly mullet, sexy ass style, big meaty thighs and muscles, and those grills. The way he fucked made you shrivel in your panties. He was a beast with a lot of mouth, just the way you liked it. His style consisted more of an interview at the beginning with a little foreplay and then straight to business. Asking girls about what turns them on the most and what he’s gonna do to them. Making each and every woman who set foot near him blush heavily.

And let’s not get started about that dick.

Definitely a 9-incher, big and heavy looking balls that laid nicely underneath his cock. A luscious pink mushroom tip, with meaty veins that trailed down to his trimmed hair. Now, it’s getting really hot and the thoughts of what he could do to you couldn’t stop dancing around your head.

After some more internet stalking, the time flew by and your flight approached.

Knowing that he stayed in ATL made you absolutely happy. Your manager wouldn’t let you know who exactly you’d be working with, but as soon as you saw your ticket, you knew you were in for a treat and rude awakening.

Dressing your absolute best in a grey Skims shirt and matching miniskirt, that barely covered your ass… perfect.

Wig secured down by some industrial glue and an opt out for the lashes, knowing they’d come off. But, mascara is a must.

On your way there, you couldn’t contain the excitement you felt. Watching some of his work that night before and earlier that day, you knew what he liked, how he acted, and how he wanted it. All the little things that made him tick and shiver.

You were seriously on demon time.

Even though, you felt as though you were throughly experienced and quite the pro. The flashing lights and big cameras still made you very nervous. In the beginning, your parents weren’t very supportive, but once they saw you had a roof over your head and food to eat, that’s all that mattered to them. But, sometimes the days didn’t get any easier. Luckily, your manager was a real one and knew how to calm you down.

After meeting all members of the crew, and the camera and director you and Jey would be working closely with today, you got touched up as you awaited Jey’s arrival.

“Nervous?!” The makeup artist asked you. Laughing slightly, you nonchalantly ignored your jitters and told her you were fine. All that anxious behavior would only arise and the man of the hour arrived.

He looked absolutely scrumptious in a pair of white joggers and a white Nike Tech with no shirt on underneath. His Cuban link chains shining in the sunlight and his cross earring dangling from his one ear.

Your cunt just throbbed at the sight of him. “Hello Ms. Y/N?! Is anyone in there?!” Completely zoned out and you didn’t even realize it, Jey waved his big hand in your face to catch your attention. His dimple prominent as he was quite amused by your expression.

“Hey Jey nice to meet you. Sorry… I just zoned out for a second.” Reaching out to shake his hand, he kindly refused. “It’s no problem, but I don’t shake hands I’m more of a hugger.” Flustered by his comment you arose from your chair and were soon enveloped into his burly arms.

His arms were thick and wrapped around your waist securely, his warm chest pressed against yours, as you felt your nipples harden. The feeling of his semi-hard dick rest against your thigh made you bit your lip and hold your arms around his neck tighter. “You out here showing out, I see you and your little miniskirt.” Spinning you around at 180 degrees, he stopped when your back faced his front.

Obviously entertained by his comments, you decided to show out a little more. Bending over slightly and giving him a little shake, Jey took the opportunity to give your ass an ample smack. “Uh oh, we got a lotta chemistry over here, don’t we?!” The producer of our film walked over to us as we were sharing a moment.

Both of us blushed at the producers comments. Damn right we have chemistry, but we really are gonna see once those cameras turn on. “But, we need more of that on the screen, so let’s get filming.” Turning back around to you, Jey gave you a wet kiss on the cheek and winked at you as he headed to the living room.

He is something else.

————————————————————————

“In 5, 4, 3, 2… 1.”

“Alright, well look at who we have here. We got the Queen of Screams, Y/N in the building. And the Leader Beater, Jey.” Both of us have a wave and proper introduction to the camera as we laughed at the names the producer gave us.

“I just gotta say you guys just sitting next to each other is already a movie.”

“Maybe I need to move a little more closer to him then.” Snuggling up by his side as gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Jey’s arm was placed on the back of the couch with his legs fully spread, giving a beautiful of his already hard dick. You crossed you legs to staf off that feeling of what he would do to you tonight.

“You already know what it is Uce. I got one of the baddest in the game next to me and I’ve been waiting to get my hands on that ass.”

“Ooooo, Jey got all the smoke about you Y/N. You know that ass is viral!!”

Rolling you eyes slightly, you casually smirked as you began to open your mouth. “I got all the smoke behind him too. I’ve been waiting to dig into him for a while.” Your hand left your right thigh as you palmed him through his white sweats, feeling all of his girth.

“Okayyy, Jey how we feeling about that?!!”

“I’m feeling real good about that Uce. Like the feeling is only rising from here.” Removing your hand from his length, you put your head down as you laughed at his comment.

“She bout to be a REALLLL problem Uce!!” Jey’s hand traveled from the back of the couch to your ass as he palmed and massaged it. Returning the favor, you returned your hand back onto his dick.

“Tim, you need to speed this up a little don’t you think?!” Biting your lip and looking Jey dead in his chocolate brown eyes.

“She’s on demon time Jey.”

Jey simply nodded his head at the camera with a smile on his face as you threw your head back in laughter. “But, you gotta show me a little something bae.”

“What you wanna see?!”

Jey intently stared at your chest, barely taking his eyes off of them. “I think he wants to see my tits.” You giggled as you sensually removed your top, letting your breasts out on full display. Jey took a sharp intake of his breath as he admired your ample assets. You played with them first as you stuck your tongue out of your mouth, letting your saliva drip down onto them.

“Why yo ass so scared Jey?!” He quickly snapped out of your trance and gave you a questioning look. “I ain’t ever scared.”

“Prove it.”

Jey dove straight into the middle of your breasts, motorboating himself. You giggled as you took the back of his head into your hands. Things took a sharp turn when he massaged both of your sensitive breasts in his hands and began sucking on each nipples. Covering them in the upmost amount of saliva.

Bringing himself back into an upright position, he sat back and played with your tits. In awe of the dangly Hello Kitty nipple piercing you had on your right tit. “That fuckin’ piercing go crazy Uce, get a closeup on that.” As the cameraman went in to get a closeup, Jey shook your tits from side to side giving himself and the viewers a show.

“He’s having a lot of fun.” Jey gave the camera another sly look as he continued to play with your breasts. “But, I know he’s gonna have more fun with this.” Removing his hands from you, your chest now faces the back of the couch and your knees now pressed up against the seat cushion. You could hear a whistle coming from Jey’s mouth as you gently shook your ass, letting your miniskirt rise showcasing your lovely pink thong.

“This what I’m taking about baby.” Jey bit his lip as his head neared your ass, giving it a wonderful spank, kiss, and caress. “I’m done with this. I’m ready to get in the field.”

“Wow Y/N, I don’t think we’ve ever seen Jey skip over the interview so fast. We got only about four minutes of footage.”

“Four minutes is enough, come baby.” You yelped as Jey took you into his arms and walked to the bed placed off camera.

“I guess I just got the magic touch.”

“Damn right she do. Take that shit off for me mama.”

Tossing you onto the plush bed, you followed his orders and removed your skirt and panties. Your cunt on full display: wet, warm, pink, and soft. You began to play with your pearl as you stared into Jey’s now dark eyes. He slowly started to undo the ties in his sweats. “Keep playing with it baby, I need that pussy real wet when I fuck it.”

Him telling you to continue masturbating in front of him already drove you over the edge, but wanting you real wet when he fucked you, sent you to the moon.

“Unhhh… my pussy’s so wet for you daddy.” Jey was now in his PSD boxers, playing with his clothed cock at the same pace as you. You both stared sensually into each others eyes as Jey finally became nude. Your eyes couldn’t help but to trail down to his massive length, taking in all its magnificent glory.

“Yo ass looking at it real bad, come give it a taste.” Swiftly, you positioned yourself ass up face down as you took his dick into your small hands. Licking at his swollen head, you captured his bead of pre-cum. Closing your eyes and savoring the taste.

Jey’s head leaned back as you enveloped his entire cock into your mouth, all the way to the base. “Fuckkk, that throat ain’t no joke for real.” Not only were you known for your ass, the way you seemed to swallow a dick up so easily was also a topic of discussion.

You sloppily cover his entire length in your saliva, balls and all. You barely even gagged as he reached the back of your throat. Jey’s head lolled back as he revel in the feeling of your throat swallowing him whole like it was nothing. Bobbing your head up and down, twirling circles around his dick, and playing with his balls. “I-I-I-I c-an’t.”

Jey immediately pushed you away as he shivered at the immense amount of pleasure he was receiving, that he had to stop you. “We can’t be going too crazy so fast now. Stay bent over like that baby.” Arching your back even further, Jey assumed the position behind you.

Massaging your ass oh so heavenly. “That ass is something dangerous mama.” Blushing, you began to shake your ass back reaching to feel his dick. He just stood still as he admired your lewd attempts to fuck yourself against him.

Your pussy finally found his cock and you moaned as you gently pushed it into yourself. “Oooo Daddy, that feels so good already.” Jey grabbed your hips in order to get himself inside of you faster. “That pussy so tighttt.”

You bit your lip and looked into the camera as Jey bottomed out into you and began fucking you slowly. “Hey Jey, I swear you got more than that. Give the girl what she wants.”

Jey paused as you looked back at him. “Many girls can’t handle this and then they tap out.”

“I don’t tap out sweetheart. Do your worst.”

Jey pushed your head down into the mattress, as well as pushing your back down slightly more. He spread your legs further and held your juicy hips. He whispered to the camera, “She ain’t ready.”

Jey soon began to absolutely berating your cunt into oblivion. Your nails almost broke as you clawed at the sheets so roughly. Your ass bounced off of his taut abs as if a basketball was being dribbled on a court.

Your screams muffled into the mat as he didn’t cease his ministrations. His hand stayed trained on the back of your head as your nails scratched up his forearm.

“I told you yo’ ass ain’t ready. Tell the world your ass wasn’t ready!!” He pulled your head up as your face was covered in mascara stained tears and forced you to stare into the camera. The cameraman moved to get a closeup. “Tell the world yo’ ass can’t take it.”

Eyes rolled all the way to the back of your head and a big smile on your face, you proudly spoke. “I ca—n take i-i-it wo-rld.” A moan in each break of your sentence as you took Jey’s dick like a champ.

“She lasted longer than the rest, I ain’t gonna lie.” Your head fell back into the sheets as pulled both of your arms to your lower back. You soon began squirting and screaming like a mad woman, nearly as if someone was murdering you.

Well… you were definitely getting murdered in a different way.

“Fuckkkk, baby I’m about to cum. Keep squeezing me just like that.”

Your cunt never stopped clenching as Jey’s cum soon entered your quaking pussy. Jey beat seven hard strokes into your cunt, ensuring that he got every single drop into you.

You shivered as he left the warmth of pussy. You lied back against the bed and but your lip as Jey gave you a sloppy wet kiss.

“How was that guys?!”

“That was cinema.” We said in unison.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END.

I actually think this is my longest fic to date. Why are all my Jey fics so long?!?! I wanna do a Roman fic give some ideas for Big Uce 💝💝🤪!!!

MY TAG SQUAD: @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @nayys-world @mzv11 @babybatlover @vogueyonce @harlem11680 @seeingstarks @thewarlordsworld @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @christinabae @pitlissa22 @thealliasylum @fame-ass-ers @iluvthebloodline @jeyusos-girl @ah-fin3sse @solosikoasgf @msbigredmachine @rollinsland @angelicflower2020 @theogsamoanqueen @saintsvenust @angelreigns444

[adventuresasmrsfindley]

TGIF! What a week it's been. This may be a TMI post but we're all friends here right? 😅

I went in for the colposcopy (reminder, this is for the cervix, not a colonoscopy) on Wednesday. My PCP said this was precautionary but I was still pretty nervous for the procedure. Imagine my shock when the OBGYN was talking to me before and said the cells they found were more on the side of concerning and this was an "absolutely need to do further testing" scenario. Not just "let's be extra cautious". I completely broke down in that poor woman's exam room. After coming off the breast scare, her throwing around the word cancer again was too much for me. I cried for a good 10 mins while she talked me through everything. I explained what had been going on recently and apologized for being such a mess. She totally understood and was great considering this was the first time we met lol. Anyways, she said that she definitely wanted to do biopsies which I was hoping wouldn't be needed but I trusted her judgement and let her proceed with the procedure. She took 3 total, and it was definitely not a pleasant experience. The last one sucked the worst. I took ibuprofen before the appointment just in case and I'm glad I did. Luckily it was over pretty quick but I had quite a bit of bleeding (duh - she basically hole punched my cervix 3 times) so she had to use extra of the solution that is supposed to stop the bleeding and lemme tell you. It's gross. It looks like coffee grounds coming out and I'm still dealing with it 2 days later. I was pretty sore the night of but haven't had much pain after that. It's more just annoying. It's also annoying because she said the results take about a week. If they come back a level 1 or lower we will just continue to monitor with yearly paps, but if they are higher than that she is going to recommend a LEEP. You can Google that if you want to know what I'm in for 🙃 all the research I did before said most places do it in the office but she said they are not equipped for that and it would be done in an outpatient surgery room and I would be put under general anesthesia. I am hoping soooo hard that my results come back good but a week is a long time to wait!!! I am so over this year.

On top of that, I found out I'm going to be traveling to CA multiple times this summer for work. I knew one trip was very likely but was not prepared for probably having to go once a month. It's going to be a great career opportunity so I'm not going to pass it up but I am not stoked about being away from my guys so much. I'm not in a great place with my MIL either right now and she's the best equipped to help us out while I'm gone because she's retired. So we will see how that plays out...

It's a lot going on right now. I just really need some good news back from the doctor and then I feel like I can fully focus on getting our summer planned and setting us up for success since things are going to get pretty crazy I'm sure.

[souryogurt64]

I enjoyed your essays and i feel that they were things you should be proud of having made

Ok yes I am proud of the essays. 

However, at this point, I have said basically everything I wanted to say in them and I don’t really know if I want to write any more of them. 

I also intended to become a music journalist someday when I started the zine. I don’t really want to become a music journalist anymore because it seems like it actually sucks. 

I also know I will never be able to achieve that, because I was recruited to market AI before ChatGPT was a thing and the overall public developed a very deep hatred for AI and anyone associated with it. 

While this comes with its own challenges, I thrive in tech startup environments and the career I have achieved is incredible and more than I could have ever hoped for considering my age and educational background.

However, the main issue is that very frequently, I get plagiarized, or people take an incredibly inappropriate amount of credit for things I have worked hard to achieve, in order to very successfully further their own endeavors. 

I have not been really good at turning the essays into some kind of huge success for myself, and that’s what I want. I deliberately do a lot of things to keep the essays contained to a certain degree. I have known multiple people personally who achieved a high level of indie success, and I have seen the horrible stuff they went through because of it, and I do not want that kind of circus in my life, especially considering the fact that I am happy with where I am professionally. 

However, it is still incredibly hurtful and upsetting to be taken advantage of like this over and over when so much time and love goes into these essays. 

For example, someone on Tumblr who does not like me plagiarized my first Panic essay, inserted a bunch of mean digs at me being crazy in it, posted it on Reddit, and got more upvotes than I got views. 

A famous YouTuber with over 500K subscribers based a video around my essays, inserted a dig at me into the video, and then got 155K views on this video. A real journalist that was interviewed for the emo history book commented on this video saying how amazing and well-researched it was. 

A girl who ran a podcast interviewed my favorite writer, very obviously implied to him during the interview she found all his old articles and all this lore about him on her own and had been a fan of his since the 2000s, and then advertised this podcast in my ask box. The guy who wrote the aforementioned book also interviewed him and like I can’t prove these people read my essays but the timing is certainly, well, suspicious. I know I do not own or invent this information but given how obscure it is and the fact she was probably advertising herself in my asks it is pretty obvious what happened here. These essays aren’t just one google search that anybody could have found, putting all of that together and finding all of those sources was a ton of work. 

Finally, I don’t want to give a lot of details about this out of respect, but someone I used to be friends with heavily used the zine to get a job in music and meet a member of MCR. I personally felt like during our involvement, which ended about a year before this happened and because of the following, she intentionally misrepresented the percentage of labor she was actually doing, pushed a lot of “dirty work” like transcription onto me in order to obtain all the benefits of networking with publicists and musicians without doing the work, and sabotaged the most important interview I ever did with this specific goal in mind. 

Everybody seems to think this kind of thing is completely OK and it’s OK to treat me this way because like just a crazy juvenile fangirl that needs mental help so I don’t matter and I didn’t do any real work, whereas they’re LEGITIMATE and SERIOUS and COOL so it’s okay to steal my ideas and my research to further their own shit. I am getting really sick of it and it hurts my feelings. 

I also had a lot of bad and stressful things happen to me recently (grandma dying unexpectedly, dumb injury, best friend at my job getting laid off, little brother needing emergency surgery essentially on my birthday, cat shelter being closed) and privating the essays is something pointless I can control to make myself feel better. 

[kakiastro]

Fame in Astrology part 3

Topic: Modeling

Hey you all I’m back with another fame post from a series I’ve been working on!

Disclaimer: this is for entertainment purposes and please don’t copy my work

Last post was about singing and what to look for in a chart that can show you the ability or if you just wanted to do research on your favorite music artist.

Here is a link to that post:

This post is about what to look for in the birth chart for modeling. This is also a cool way to see in your own chart what kind of style would work for you.

I’m going to use Famous model Naomi Campbell for examples

Okay let’s begin

1. Since modeling is about appearance, the rising + chart ruler is the most important part.

Whatever sign your rising is in can show you what type of fashion line/aesthetic would look good on you!

Ex. Naomi is a Capricorn rising with her chart ruler(Saturn) in Taurus 5h conj Venus.

So this is great because her chart ruler is in a Venus sign and fame house! Capricorn rising meaning she has great bone structure, , she has the determination attitude and and her fashion will be timeless.

This is an older picture but can’t you see the Saturn influence lol

2. Just like I stated in my last point, Venus is what to look at next when we’re talking about fashion.

Venus rules over our aesthetic and fashion.

Ex. Naomi has Taurus Venus conj Saturn. Like I mentioned in my last point, there’s something pleasing but classy about her fashion choices. To look into further detail, her Venus is at 12°(Pisces) and Saturn is 14°(Taurus) so her outfits can be ethereal looking as well with Pisces influence.

Here’s one example.

3. Now we’re going to talk about Mercury and the 3h. Mercury rules over media and camera. This can show you what kind of background and lighting works best. Mercury also rules over magazines.

Ex. Naomi has Gemini Mercury conj Mars and Pisces 3h. She also has her North Node In the 3h as well. North node is our fate/destiny, what we need to learn in this lifetime. Dominating/strong posses works for her because she has the Mars influence

Check this photo out

4. Mc is the last main thing we’ll look at when it comes to modeling.

The Mc doesn’t just represents career, it represents your public image and what you’re known for!

A model public image is important to them.

Ex. Naomi has Libra Mc with Jupiter and Uranus here. Anytime Jupiter is in your 10h(Mc) or aspects it, expect recognition. Even if you’re not famous, this could mean a lot of people know you! With Uranus, it means she will always have unpredictable and crazy sudden changes in her career. Uranus also represents breaking traditional norms and she’s one of the first black models to have massive fame! She really broke the doors down for future black models.

Modeling Asteroids: asteroids are more prominent if it aspects your personal placements (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Mars, Venus, Jupiter)

1. Stellar (14016)- how you stand out; glamour

2. Aphrodite (1388)- the styles and colors that look best on you

3. Fay (4820)- ethereal beauty

4. Ptah (5011)- striking and powerful beauty

5. Bella (695)- means beautiful, natural beauty.

6. Celestia (1252)- divine, heavenly beauty

7. Aura (1488)- your overall vibe and energy

Hey! I hoped you enjoy this post! I haven’t completely made up my mind yet on if I should do Chef or Politician in fame. Let me know which one interest you or if you have another suggestion. Have a good day y’all!

[meesherbeans]

Formally introducing: Yukino O'Brien!

(The above chibi was commissioned from a Discord friend of mine, but I don't think her comms are public.)

Where to begin? At the beginning, I suppose! Her full name is Yukino Carina O'Brien.

So, in my Our Life universe, all of the LIs end up with their soulmate (my MC for them). Yukino, however, is my main Our Life character. She is Liz's sister, grew up in Sunset Bird with the Moms, and is Cove's platonic soulmate/sister.

She doesn't know anything about her birth parents; in fact, the moms only know her birth mother was Japanese because that information was on the paperwork when they adopted her. Since she doesn't know what the "other half" is, she considers herself half-Japanese and that's good enough for her!

From an early age, she was always very athletic: if there was the opportunity to swim, run, jump, or play an active game, she was first in line. Everyone assumed she would pick up a sport once she hit middle school, but Yukino didn't feel like the commitment a team required was worth it. She'd rather be hanging out with her friends, especially at the beach!

The one thing she kept up for several years, from nine to 12 years old, was her dancing lessons. It was always a hobby for her, but one she enjoyed immensely. She took a little of everything but spent the final year focused on the different ballroom styles... mostly because she was tall and that was a boon in that particular field.

Going to the soiree when she was 13 changed her life, but not because she got to dance with her mysterious stranger boy (aka Bax-teen). It's because it was the first time she was able to dress up maturely, mingle with adults, and put her dancing skills to real use outside of lessons. She felt like she was truly growing up, and it inspired her to want to travel after graduating. This quickly evolved into a desire to go to university in another country. The soiree is what led to her buckling down hard in order to learn Japanese and get amazing grades, so that she could go to Tokyo University.

Although she continued to be uninterested in joining a sports team, Yukino did want to work in that field. She also always loved working out! After some chatting with her moms, she decided that a physical therapy career was the right direction for her, especially with an emphasis on sports injury recovery. As an adult, she attains that dream!

(Above are OL1-style commissions of Step 4 Yukino from @xxcathartistxx. 💖)

While in university, she also picked up a taste for assisting with the research side of things: helping to analyze and interpret data on studies done in the physical therapy field, to help further what we know about how best to heal people.

This is something she continues in her spare time, lecturing at conventions and co-authoring papers with the researchers doing the studies. She works for a well-respected rehab/PT company for her day job, though! It's in a city two hours away from Prima Vista (I made one up, it's called Azure Valley).

As for her romantic endeavors, Cove would call it "frustrating" but Yukino would just say that she had to take that journey in order to end up where she was meant to be.

She had a few flirtations, crushes, and short-term partners in middle and high school, but Yukino really buckled down with her studies around then, so nothing ever truly stuck. Her priorities were elsewhere, and she definitely (accidentally) ruined a relationship or two by not being around enough.

Dancing with Baxter at the soiree at 13 was a very magical and fun night, and she always considered that her first real crush. Many an evening was spent idly imagining them meeting up again one day so that she could actually learn his name, and maybe even thank him for the compliments. There was an exciting connection there but she brushed it off as a cute memory that'd remain such.

When the Danger Oreo, as I call him, arrived in Sunset Bird, Yukino was instantly drawn to him for a second time. The two of them (much to Cove's chagrin) were practically inseparable after the second time they started chatting via text. Needless to say, Baxter's departure at the end of the summer was devastating. Yukino did not cope with it well for a few days, but then she buried it because she didn't want to worry her family or friends. But Cove knew the whole time.

While at university, she had several relationships, all of which she would swear to you that she was fully invested in... however, none of them lasted longer than six months. She began to get a reputation as a really amazing friend but painfully aloof girlfriend. After her longest relationship, with an Australian rugby player named Elijah, ended in a confusing breakup, she decided to just... not date any longer. It wasn't worth it! (And what was Elijah talking about, saying she wasn't over a guy named Baxter she hadn't seen in years at that point?)

She spent her last year at university, and the year after graduating, focused solely on her studies. The intensity only got worse once she moved back to California, found a place and job of her own, and began to work both days and nights: days at the PT, and nights helping edit and analyze papers. It was during this time that she began to pretty much just subsist off of grocery store salad bags and protein bars/shakes.

Then... the wedding happened. Her friends called her to help, she gladly took time off to do it, and she got Baxter'd yet again. But this time, he stuck around when it was all done. 😊

Below are some of the fan art pieces that I've commissioned over the past year! Yes, all of them are her with Baxter. What can I say, they're my true OTP!

Fan artists, in order: @sunflowerpin, @kaikonn, @adricarra-art, and then sunflower again!

If anyone actually read all of this, bless you and your house and your MCs/OCs. My inbox is totally open if you have any questions (or fic requests, I could totally do little prompts) about Yukino!!

[dramaticallycryingblood]

I was doing some research on the Black family for a fic and it turns out that Cygnus Black III was born in 1938 and that Bellatrix was born in 1951 which means that Cygnus was canonically thirteen years old when his first daughter was born.

Now we don’t know what year Druella was born in so I have two theories:

1. Cygnus and Druella were the same age and Bella was a complete accident and they had to get married in hurry to avoid a scandal, which probably means that Druella never graduated Hogwarts and spent her childhood raising kids (because we know that Narcissa was born 1955 and Andy was the middle child meaning Druella had them at 17 and 15 respectively) but did Cygnus also quit school or did he ignore his responsibilities and continued going to school until all three of his daughters were already born?

2. Druella was 4 to 5 years older than Cygnus and they were forced into marriage at 12 and 16/17 for a political alliance or something and were expected to consummate the marriage whether or not they wanted to. I feel like this is definitely something the Blacks and the Rosiers would do, but it once again brings the question of whether or not Cygnus graduated cause if he didn’t then he’s probably really bad at magic and that would be hilarious

Upon further research I found out that his sister, Walburga, was born in 1925 making her 13 years older than him yet she still had her first born 8 years after he had his. So Walburga was 34 when she had Sirius, and Orion was 30, which is curious in a world where most people finish their studies at 17 and can be well established in their career by the time they hit 25, and it’s especially curious since we’re talking about the Blacks who probably had a lot of pressure on them to produce an heir and they definitely didn’t need to wait until they were well established in their careers since they are filthy rich and were already pretty notorious even when they had just graduated Hogwarts. Maybe they waited to see if Cygnus and Druella would have a son, but Narcissa was born 4 years before Sirius so maybe Walburga or Orion had fertility problems or maybe having kids with your cousin while your ancestors have been making incest babies for generations is harder than it sounds, who knows?

Obviously, I know this could very well just be JKR’s poor writing but I love thinking about these kinds of things.

[my-gender-is-void]

So, lately I've been thinking about my future, everyone around me is trying to get a grant for some research project either as a PhD student, an internship or a master's degree and I've been thinking, since my friend got his name changed to avoid further bureaucratic bs in the future, that I can't keep progressing sin my career without changing my legal name because I absolutely refuse to get another degree with my dead name but in order to that I need to either move out first or tell my parents and in moments like this I really wish I was a binary trans person because that would be easier to explain and for them to understand but non binary is simply "too much" and "too ridiculous" for them and then "oh, but how are we going to explain that to your sisters?" Well, they'll probably understand it better than you since they haven't been spoonfed right-wing hatred just yet and basically I raised them. And I just know from experience they'll start saying shit about me being confused and "brainwashed by left-wing communism" as If I'm not 23 years old and know myself better than anyone. For fucks sake, they can't even respect my friend's name and pronouns and they've known for like 2 years.

Also, I'm really angry at how little progress we've actually made regarding trans rights in my country, just short of this year we finally got the right to self-determination of gender but it is still a very lengthy process and you need to be 16 at the very least, it has been mocked, there's been a surge of people against trans rights as well, saying people would take advantage of it to go r*pe women in the women's bathroom, some parties want to remove it and, obviously, it only applies to binary trans people. Anyone can change just their name but the "gender" market can only be changed to "Man" or "woman" so, non-binary and gender queer people are out of the question. We're being forced to either stick to the marker they assigned us or change it to another that is still not representative if our identity. Sure you could say I'm lucky because I'm comfortable with "he/him" pronouns in Spanish or that an afab enby is lucky if they're comfortable with "she/her" pronouns but we're still neither women nor men so why are those the only options still. Society keeps saying it's evolving and that you should be grateful for these new rights and laws, and sure I'm happy for my binary trans siblings, but what about the rest of us, why are we still being forced into two boxes. And they'll tell me "just wait, you'll get your rights as well" it took decades to get these rights, I don't think I can keep waiting for those rights to come because the way things are going they might as well never come since they're vouching for the elimination of these new rights the trans community just got a tear ago. I can't keep waiting, it's not fair, why do I have to lie in a consult with an endocrinologist from the "transsexual" area of the hospital and say I'm a guy so I can get hormones, that's not fair. Why is society so fucking obsessed with shoving people into boxes they made up and then get angry that we have our own "labels" to identify and share our experiences. I'm so over it.

[blujayonthewing]

for that one oc ask - GHOST and DESIRE for uhhhhhhh Melliwyk! I know very little about your OCs yet so i'm tempted to just keep throwing asks at you but I don't wanna overwhelm lol

hi hello first of all please do feel free to send more... if the spirit moves you...... 👀

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

When asked about the scars up her arm, Melliwyk usually explains it very briefly as the result of a lab accident when she was still a student, laughing off almost dying and how the discharge launched her across the room, but it also launched her academic and research career. What she does not generally explain is that the other thing that happened was her then-roommate happened to walk back in unexpectedly at the exact wrong moment, got caught in the face with magically charged electrified shrapnel, and was permanently blinded... the incident may have accelerated Mel's arcane studies, but it ended Amberly's.

It set the tone for the rest of her career. Even having exploded, her experiment was highly impressive and promising, especially from someone so young and still early in her arcane studies, so it opened up a lot of opportunities for her-- and on the other hand she got a reputation for keeping an eye on the bigger picture and not letting personal risk or others' feelings get in the way of meaningful progress, a reputation she leaned into an benefited heavily from despite the fact that Amberly getting caught in the accident in their dorm wasn't even really her fault. There were lots of other times in the years following where she was more than a little flippant with risk management or others' wellbeing in the pursuit of her work. It got her a lot of professional respect, and mostly her reputation ensured others kept themselves out of risk around her; she got really used to not thinking about anybody else whenever she did anything, for better and for worse.

This was decades ago, now; for most of that time, she's consciously thought about it very little-- and definitely less and less over the years (although it subconsciously has affected her decisions sometimes, like moving out into the middle of nowhere alone to get into weirder and possibly more volatile experimentation). She's been thinking about it a lot lately, though. Adventuring is the first time in a long time she's had to live and collaborate with others, and relies on mutual trust for her own survival. Doing Hero Shit in the real world, with real people enduring real suffering, has also put her back in touch with her humanity after spending so much time in magical academia and then total isolation. She's had to think, a lot, about how many people have been hurt or killed by things like not barring the door while working on something dangerous, or thoughtlessly drawing aggro to an already injured NPC, or failing to safeguard her loved ones after knowing that her becoming an enemy of the state would put a target on their backs as well. She liked Amberly. She hadn't meant to hurt her, and hadn't even meant to be careless about her safety; it worries her how hard it seems to be for her to protect others from her own actions, even when she wants to-- how dangerous she is to the people she cares about. She's not entirely sure what she can do about it other than isolate herself again, and that isn't really an option anymore.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

Oh man this is a really interesting question for her right now! For her entire adult life, her greatest desire was to either reinvent or rediscover artificing, which was a millennia-lost art in her world; she kind of figured, you know, either she'd do that under less fraught circumstances, or it would be a lifelong pursuit that she could work to further but would never personally live to see the end of, so, honestly she's feeling more than a little unmoored right now in terms of, you know... personal goals..... entire life's purpose...... that kind of thing. Fortunately she's still got the broader overarching desire for discovery in general to keep her going, and slightly-more-dubiously-fortunately the Ongoing Adventure demands all of her attention right now (more, I would almost argue, than she has to give...), but Being An Artificer when that was a theoretical/ experimental field has been so central to her identity for so long that I think if you asked her right now what she desires most she'd get really stressed and existential about it, lmao. She hasn't had a chance to figure it out yet! I mean, of course, there's always going to be an answer, and right now it's probably 'to destroy the sorcerer king [our bbeg]' for various plot and personal reasons-- but even that, you know, I think she'd be uncomfortable and dissatisfied with the thing she wants the most being 'to beat the bad guy' instead of something more personal and/or interesting.

ask about my OCs!!

[une-sanz-pluis]

Hey, hope you're having a good day. For a good while now I've been intensely fixated on the House of Lancaster, but I feel as though there's a major gap in my knowledge when it comes to John of Gaunt, Henry IV, and Henry V. Could you possibly suggest some further reading/research on them? I've got Red Prince by Helen Carr and I haven't read all of it but I think it's pretty good so far, same with Chris Given-Wilson's book on Henry IV

Hi! I can definitely do that for you - if there's any specific areas of their personality, relationship, life or reign, please let me know so I can be more targeted in my suggestions. I'm just going to focus on books to keep this manageable. All books are given in order of publication, not in order of preference.

John of Gaunt

There are only four book-length biographies about John of Gaunt that I'm aware of:

Sydney Armitage-Smith, John of Gaunt (1904)

Anthony Goodman, John of Gaunt: The Exercise of Princely Power in Fourteenth-Century Europe (1992)

Helen Carr, The Red Prince (2021)

Kathryn Warner, John of Gaunt: Son of One King, Father of Another (2022)

To be completely honest, I've only read Goodman's in full though I've looked at the others in passing. Goodman's is on the academic, political biography side of things, which is reflected in the price (if you're looking to own a copy, I'd definitely recommend getting it second-hand rather than new) and language (it can be quite dense). If your interest is in Gaunt's personal life, Goodman doesn't spend much time on that (though I felt like I had more of a sense of Gaunt's personality when I finished reading it). It is a bit dated, obviously, so you'll have to keep that in mind. If you're interested in Gaunt's Castilian campaign, this was really impressive on that score - I feel a lot of English-centric histories tend to gloss over it.

Armitage-Smith's is from early 1900s so if you do read it, be aware that there's going to be some information that's out of date and the considerable risk of some Victorian/Edwardian attitudes seeping in. Despite the datedness, this does seem to be the standard biography on Gaunt (Goodman's being a more academic study, focusing heavily on the practice of power). From what I've seen, Armitage-Smith doesn't focus too much on Gaunt's personal life. It is also, helpfully, free to read on the Internet Archive.

You've already got Carr's biography so I won't talk about that except to say that Carr is heavily biased towards Gaunt, always presenting him in the most favourable light (I also heartily disagree with her opinion on Richard II). Kathryn Warner's biography is the most recently published and her intention was to focus more on Gaunt's personal life rather than his politics, military career or religious interests but while it is lacking on those fronts, it's still a straight forward biography. I have several issues with Warner as a historian and find she's much stronger on Edward II's reign than on later figures. I'd say it's probably worth reading if you're still wanting to know more about Gaunt but it wouldn't be my top pick.

If you're looking for work specifically on Katherine Swynford, there are three non-fiction books (or rather one 30 page booklet and two books):

Anthony Goodman, Katherine Swynford (1994)

Jeanette Lucroft, Katherine Swynford: The History of a Medieval Mistress (2006)

Alison Weir, Mistress of the Monarchy: The Life of Katherine Swynford, Duchess of Lancaster

If you're really interested in Katherine, I'd say all three are worth looking at. I haven't read Goodman's myself (it's out of print and secondhand copies are expensive) but he's an academic historian whose work I've got a lot of time for. I really loved Lucroft's book but it's more of historiographical approach to Katherine than a biographical, so if that doesn't interest you, it's skippable. Alison Weir is Alison Weir so the scholarship underpinning her biography is seriously lacking and because so little is known about Katherine, there's a lot of filler, so it's more "Katherine and her world", but it does have value in that it centres Katherine and her life and is the only in-print, straight-forward biography.

Henry IV

Ian Mortimer, The Fears of Henry IV (2007)

Chris Given-Wilson, Henry IV (2016)

There are a couple of older biographies of Henry but these two are ones most referred to. If you just want one, you've already got my top recommendation. Given-Wilson's is the most recent and far and away the most scholarly of the two, and he incorporates all of the new research Mortimer did while filtering out the bullshit and over-interpretation Mortimer fills his biography with. I personally find Given-Wilson very readable and even-handed. I am very, very impressed by his coverage of Mary de Bohun, Henry's first wife, too.

I don't like Ian Mortimer as a historian and I've talked about my issues with his work and attitude to history in detail on my personal blog here (it is a very long post). But Mortimer's biography is pretty well regarded and does sometimes include more detail than Given-Wilson, so if you end up wanting another biography of Henry, I'd pick up The Fears of Henry IV. However, while Mortimer's research is generally sound (though there are errors and gaps in his work), his interpretations are often heavily, heavily skewed towards his thesis that Henry IV was The Greatest Man Ever To Exist, Ever.

There are a few other books about Henry that are worth looking at, though some are based on more specific areas of his reign and if their subject doesn't interest you, I'd consider them skippable:

James Hamilton Wylie, The History of England Under Henry the Fourth (four volumes, 1884-1898)

Peter McNiven, Heresy and Politics in the Reign of Henry IV: The Burning of John Badby (1987)

Paul Strohm, England's Empty Throne: Usurpation and the Language of Legitimation, 1399-1422 (1998)

Henry IV: The Establishment of the Regime (essays, 2003)

The Reign of Henry IV: Rebellion and Survival (essays, 2008)

Jenni Nuttall, The Creation of Lancastrian Kingship: Literature, Language and Politics in Late Medieval England (2007)

Wylie is by far and away the most detailed and painstaking exploration of Henry IV's reign, though as the title suggests this is less of a focus on Henry but on the events of his reign. Wylie is not the most careful with his sources and he was writing in the Victorian era so it is very old work but there's still a lot of value there. The two essay collections are well worth looking at, covering a broad array of subjects. McNiven's is a good overview of the response to Lollardy (a heretical movement) in Henry's reign and Strohm and Nuttall focus on the propagandistic efforts of the Lancastrians to legitimise their claim to the throne.

There isn't any book-length biography on Mary de Bohun, Henry's first wife (and I'm not sure one could be written), but for Joan of Navarre, Elena Woodacre's Joan of Navarre: Infanta, Duchess, Queen, Witch? (2022) is highly recommended.

Finally, the Penguin Monarch for Henry IV (Catherine Nall, Henry IV: The Afflicted King) is due out in late 2024 and I've been eagerly looking forward to getting my hands on it... for several years. They keep pushing back the publication.

Henry V

There are a lot of books about Henry V so I'm going to try to be as concise as possible and only list the "must reads".

Biographies

Christopher Allmand, Henry V (1992)

Anne Curry, Henry V: From Playboy Prince To Warrior King (2015)

Allmand's biography is the standard academic biography. Like Chris Given-Wilson's Henry IV, it's part of the Yale Monarch series but it's from an older run where the book was divided into two sections, the first being a chronological biography and the second being a thematic study on elements of their kingship. It's very much worth the read but it's dense and heavy going and very much skewed towards the political, not personal. Because it's from the nineties, there's some outdated information (the birthday debate is gone into, Henry's wounding at Shrewsbury is very briskly dealt with) too. Anne Curry's biography is probably the best starting place. It's a solid biography with scholarly underpinnings without being too scholarly, and as part of the Penguin Monarchs series, it's short (under 150 pages) and was published very recently. There's some compression, obviously, but Curry also has insights about Henry's life that you won't find elsewhere. So I'd read Curry first, pick up Allmand if you want more later. If you want another biographical treatment, I'd say John Matusiak's Henry V (2012) orTeresa Cole's Henry V: The Life of the Warrior King and the Battle of Agincourt (2015) are worth looking at with caveats (Matusiak's writing is pretty dense and he dabbles in misogyny, ableism and fatphobia; Cole is the first biography I read of Henry and I loved it at the time but looking back, there's some outdated information that's obviously because she hadn't read the more recent research on Henry IV and Henry V).

Kingship

James Hamilton Wylie, The Reign of Henry the Fifth (three volumes, 1914-1929)

Henry V: The Practice of Kingship (essays, 1984)

Henry V: New Interpretations (essays, 2013)

Katherine J. Lewis, Kingship and Masculinity In Late Medieval England (2013)

Malcolm Vale, Henry V: The Conscience of a King (2016)

Vale has written my absolute favourite book on Henry. It's not a biography so much as a study of Henry and his kingship with the intention of looking beyond the image of the warrior king. It's the perfect riposte to the revisionist studies that vilify Henry and incredibly revealing but not the best introduction to his life and reign.

The Practice of Kingship has the same problem that older works have but it's a very solid, very insightful collection of essays that I keep turning back to; New Interpretations is also very good. Lewis's Kingship and Masculinity is a study of Henry V and Henry VI through a gender-studies lens and is another of my top recs.

Wylie's The Reign of Henry the Fifth is very similar in approach to his work on Henry IV's reign - it's not about Henry V so much as his reign - and the same strengths and weaknesses apply, with one extra caveat. Wylie died in 1914 with the third volume unfinished so it's not as complete as it should be, but still well worth the look.

Agincourt

Anne Curry, Agincourt: A New History (2000)

Juliet Barker, Agincourt: Henry V and the Battle that Made England (2005)

The Battle of Agincourt: Sources & Interpretations (2009)

It's hard to discuss Henry V without talking about Agincourt, of course. Curry is the foremost expert on Agincourt and did a lot of groundbreaking, new research that shifted our perception of the battle and cut through some of the legends; this is published in Agincourt: A New History. This is a dryer, more scholarly read than Barker's but very much worth looking at. Barker's a very readable account in the pop history style that does tend to be recced by scholars as a very readable account. She incorporates Curry's new research but doesn't wholly agree with it so it's very interesting to see the two in conversation with each other. I'd personally start with Barker and then move onto Curry if you want more Agincourt.

Sources and Interpretations is, pretty obviously, a sourcebook for the battle itself from medieval (contemporary and near-contemporary) and early modern accounts. It's concerned with the battle only, not the broader campaign (so there's nothing on the Siege of Harfleur) but it's very valuable for collecting all the various accounts together and also providing an overview about the reliability of each source.

Michael Livingston published Agincourt: The Battle of the Scarred King this year which I haven't gotten around to reading though I'm looking forward to it. He does seem to be interested in cutting through the mythology of the battle, most notably arguing that the traditional location of the battle is not where the battle was actually fought.

Miscellaneous

T. B. Pugh, Henry V and the Southampton Plot (1988)

This is out of print but the best overview of the Southampton Plot (the plot that was led by Richard, Earl of Cambridge and occurred just before Henry was due to sail to France for the 1415 campaign). It's obviously old so some information is out-of-date and I don't always agree with the conclusions but if you want to know about the plot or the plotters, this is the book to pick up. There is another book, 1415: The Plot by Bryan R. Dunleavy, but that one skews heavily away from Henry and his reign to anticipate the Wars of the Roses.

Paul Strohm, England's Empty Throne: Usurpation and the Language of Legitimation, 1399-1422 (1998)

Strohm is a literary scholar that is looking at the processes of legitimisation the Lancastrians used. Obviously, this focuses a lot on Richard II's deposition and Henry IV's response to it but he also explores Henry V's efforts to legitimise his own rule, including his patronage of Lydgate and Hoccleve, responses to the Oldcastle rebellion and the Southampton Plot, the reburial of Richard II and his patronage. There are things Strohm says that I don't find believable or likely, such as his oft-cited assertion that the Southampton Plot was a "mock-up" invented by Henry V to give the conspirators something to confess to, but that doesn't detract from his wider points.

As Prince of Wales

Because Henry played such a prominent role in his father's reign, pretty much all of the recommendations I gave for Henry IV also have a lot of information about Henry V as Prince of Wales. I'd ignore Ian Mortimer because he treats Henry V very strangely in relation to Henry IV (I have a blog/rant about that) and is very weird about Henry V in general (if I had a hall of shame section on this post, his book on Henry V would be there). I think Peter McNiven's Heresy and Politics is very much worth reading, since he goes into some detail about Henry V's responses to Lollardy as Prince of Wales.

Catherine de Valois

The best biographic treatment of Catherine is Katherine J. Lewis's chapter on her in Later Plantagenet and the Wars of the Roses Consorts. The entry in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography is also quite solid.

The Sister Queens by Mary McGrigor is the only book-length biography written about Catherine is the one she shares with Isabelle de Valois, her eldest sister and fellow Queen of England. I absolutely do not recommend this. It reads like the most trashy and melodramatic novel about Catherine, this time written by an author who seems most invested in the invention of new love interests for Catherine and Isabelle (she claims James I of Scotland was actually in love with Catherine, not Joan Beaufort). It's also chronologically confused, full of typos and unsourced quotes. Isabeau of Bavaria's depiction is a replication of the outdated misogynistic stereotype, as is the depiction of Eleanor Cobham (bizarrely called "Elizabeth" on several occasions).

[idontplaytrack]

tw: vent

once again feeling like i just wanna give up bc i’m just constantly stuck— mentally, physically. i’m just never really happy anymore. i’m expected to pay for my siblings’ meals when i take them out, and can’t ask for it back because they’re younger than me and they don’t work. i was nearly at $200 in savings and somehow, without spending more than $30 on myself for the last week, I’m down to $95 in my savings. i’ve been scrimping and saving so i can take time off of work and ‘reality’ to go to hawaii for a few days but now im just so much further away from my savings goal that i just feel like it’s not worth it anymore. yes, i know i can just go to a neighbouring country but there’s nothing i wanna do there, the same stores are everywhere in this region and it’s like what’s the point? it’s a personal preference but a place i’ve been wanting to visit but never had the guts to even think about, to plan, to research to make sure i keep in mind that i respect the people, nature and wildlife. to make sure i stay within my budget, knowing where to go, where to eat, what to do, what i want to buy so i only buy those items and not extra things. i know life isn’t fair but why the hell does birth order have to decide what one has to do for family? when the more ‘grown’ adults in the family have nothing but terrible, terrible things to say about the choices i want to make? what i wear, what i eat, where i work, where i want to travel to, what i want to study, where i want to study, why i want to study? why I am always thinking about being anywhere but home??? i get that i owe my parents years and years worth of money and then some for bringing me up, but little things, ‘casual remarks’ stick with me and just ruin me day by day. i can barely remember the good.

i’m in a way fortunate to still live in this apartment with my family so i don’t have to worry about rent. but i pay for my own expenses at work, transportation and my phone bill. i also pay for whatever the hell kind of knick knacks, snacks, meals and even toys when we go out. because i know she doesn’t like to be home and being the target of my parents’ yelling, it sucks for them to talk shit about you right to your face, calling you burdens, telling you their lives stopped because of you. i didn’t choose to be here, i didn’t choose for us to be low-income if you yourselves don’t want to do anything but spew out your so-called ‘creative ideas for new job ventures and asking me to help you. you’re so vague, help with what? how do i help? what do you want me to do? why do i have to give up on my part time job to risk a new career with you that you’re starting from scratch with no clients/customers yet? why is the burden just on me like this even though it isn’t explicitly said? i’m not a bad person, but they’re making me out to be a horrible human being that disrespects family and elders even though i’m treated as less than just because ‘they’re my parents and know me best because they raised me?’ you have no idea how much of myself i had to hide in my 20 years of existence. i don’t even know who i am anymore, what i believe in, what i want in my life for myself.

[nofearageplay]

What’s going on with Elizabeth Chambers?

An Update:

Good morning Tumblrverse!

I haven’t published in a while, so I wanted to make a post outlining what’s been going on in my life and what’s been causing some of the holdups in my work at the moment. The short answer is YES – both The Padded Princess Playroom and The Diaper Discipline Academy are going to continue, and I have work done on the next story in each series. PPP is much further ahead with a September targeted release, followed by an Oct-Nov DDA drop.

So what’s been happening with Elizabeth Chambers that’s caused so much time to pass with 0 updates?

I’m engaged!

I’m officially off the market, I’ll be getting married in Sept 2024 to my partner who is amazing in every way. She’s by no means a little or a mommy herself, but they’re AB/DL aware and have even worn a couple times with me. Wedding planning and the commitment to my partner have eaten into a bit of writing time, but not as much as the next few items.

We’re long distance…

We live on opposite sides of the country at the moment because of our careers, so traveling and spending quality time together online makes it more challenging to keep my output up.

I’m doing my master's degree

This is a bit of a time sink but it’s a goal I’ve had for a long time and my main job pays for me to do it, so I can’t turn it down. Still, it’s hard to be motivated to write 1,000 words after finishing a 20+ page research paper or 100+ pages of reading every week.

My REAL job has made us return to the office.

Honestly, I wouldn’t have been able to start this work if I was full-time in an office, but now I’m back in the office three days a week. It stinks that I can’t fill my downtime at work by writing smut, but I can’t really do that in my office setting like I can when working from home.

I’ve just been tired.

Honestly, this is the big one. With a long-distance relationship, work, and graduate school, I’m wiped out and need my weekends to recover, which means less time for writing unless that’s what I feel will help me recharge (and it honestly does sometimes!).

In short, life happens, and now I’m in a position where I can write a little more than I was over the last few months, but it’s still a challenge. Thank you to everyone who has messaged me to see what’s going on and for your continued patronage of this little side business I’ve developed. Even with only five books published, and only publishing every few months, I still bring in a few extra hundred bucks a month from this which is amazing, and I couldn’t’ do it without ya’ll.

If you’re still reading this and want to help out, the best thing you can do is to leave a review of one of my books on Amazon! It honestly helps with the algorithm and will provide me with more resources to continue this work, and produce more content moving forward.

Thanks!

-Nofearageplay/Elizabeth Chambers

[coochiequeens]

If men can’t be dedicated enough to science to go for a few months without harassing, assaulting or exposing women to porn maybe they are the ones who should be discouraged from entering Antarctica.

For almost as long as the continent has been known of, Antarctica, a wild, white expanse of ice shelves, glaciers and mountainous ridges at the foot of the globe, has been the domain of men.

But images in the popular imagination of bearded men boldly heading into snowstorms could slowly be fading into the whiteness.

Today, women lead expeditions and research stations, make up large parts of support teams on the continent, and are active in leading policy conversations.

Reports uncovering sexual harassment and assault in overwhelmingly male environments, combined with a drive to recognise women’s contributions and efforts to overcome barriers to entry have all contributed to a gradual cultural change.

“We need to decide what kind of a future we want to see for Antarctica, and which people we want making decisions about that future,” said Dr Hanne Nielsen, a lecturer in Antarctic law and governance at the University of Tasmania.

“Then we can decide how we make sure that those people have – and retain – a seat at the table.”

Antarctica was first sighted in January 1820 by a Russian expedition to the far south, and the first women to visit the region did so with husbands working on whaling vessels during the first half of the 20th century.

“The human history of Antarctica is really quite recent, but the history of women being able to travel there is even more recent than that – but that didn’t mean that women didn’t want to travel to the far south of the globe,” said Dr Nielsen.

Predictably, attitudes to women’s participation lagged far behind.

When the Americans Edith Ronne and Jennie Darlington mooted the idea of staying on the continent over the winter of 1948 – which they eventually did – Darlington’s husband told her that “there are some things women don’t do … They don’t become pope or president – or go down to the Antarctic.”

The first woman to conduct scientific research in Antarctica was the Soviet geologist Maria Klenova in 1957, but her work did not immediately lead to more female scientists in the far south: many Antarctic programmes argued that women’s presence could prove disruptive.

In 1969, more than a decade after the US established a permanent presence on Antarctica, an all-women scientific team deployed there prompted a New York Times reporter to dub their work “an incursion” into the “largest male sanctuary remaining on this planet”.

Women have also been agents of sovereignty to assert territorial claims.

An Argentinian, Silvia Morello, then seven months pregnant, was flown to the country’s Esperanza Base and, on 7 January 1978, gave birth to a son, Emilio Palma, who became the first person to be born on Antarctica.

But for those women who wanted to study the continent, role models have been few and far between.

“When I was in school, science wasn’t really a career girls would think about,” said Catalina Silva, 23, a marine biology student at Chile’s Universidad Austral in Valdivia, where more than half of her 2018 intake were women.

“Marine biology didn’t seem achievable because you’d just see men in science. If you don’t see people like you in the places you want to reach, it’s hard to know where to aim.”

This summer season, she spent a month at Chile’s Escudero Base working as a lab assistant, sifting through seawater samples searching for isopods – the subject of her thesis.

The Chilean biologist Dr Leyla Cárdenas, 47, came to Antarctica for the first time 13 years ago and has returned to the continent several times to further her research on ecosystems in the far south.

In 2020, she was named the first ever female dean of her university’s science faculty, but says that stereotypes still persist for women studying the continent.

“Who’s going to cook? Women, of course. Who will carry the heavy kit? The men,” said Dr Cárdenas. “That’s how it’s always been, defined by gender roles.”

Before leaving Punta Arenas to work or stay at Chilean bases, every member of each expedition must complete an induction on harassment protocols and awareness.

Even so, this year two support staff members were sent home following incidents.

While women’s experiences of harassment and assault in remote Antarctic research stations have long been known, two damning reports published at the end of last year threw the issues into stark relief.

In October 2022, the US National Science Foundation (NSF) said it was “appalled by the reports of sexual harassment, assaults, and stalking”highlighted by its study; and a report into diversity, equity and inclusion within the Australian Antarctic Program described a “culture of widespread, low-level sexual harassment that permeates stations”.

That macho culture was typified by the ceiling of a hut at Australia’s Mawson Station which had been plastered with nearly 100 pornographic images.

Both reports make for harrowing reading.

In the NSF’s document, 95% of the women interviewed knew someone who had experienced assault or harassment within the Antarctic programme. One interviewee was quoted as saying that “[sexual assault and sexual harassment] are just facts of life [here], just like the fact that Antarctica is cold and the wind blows.”

Among a series of incidents highlighted, one male supervisor reportedly attempted to break into female colleagues’ rooms using his master keys. One woman was so frightened she carried a hammer around base with her.

Following the publication of the NSF report, the organisation says it created a single, confidential point of contact for victims, increased on-ice support services, put listening sessions in place and enhanced physical security measures.

Nevertheless, diversity and inclusion still have a long way to go on Antarctica.

With such high turnover of scientific and support staff in every summer cohort, the female population of Antarctica at any given time is difficult to judge.

However, one 2016 study found that 60% of early-career polar researchers are women. Retaining them in the field is another matter.

“I think it is important not only to increase the number of women working in Antarctica, but also the number from different geographic, linguistic or disciplinary backgrounds,” said Dr Nielsen.

“The more perspectives you have the richer that conversation can be – and the more likely we are to be able to respond to the huge challenges facing the polar regions.”

[screemnch]

I have… Probably over a hundred different little stories that I come up with as someone who definitely isn’t a maladaptive daydreamer… most of them are indulgent wish fulfillment that will never see the light of day and don’t actually go into the same categories as the stories that I plan on turning into books so…

On subjecting myself and my characters to the mortifying ordeal of being known I shall start with these casual little stories, and not my proper ones, starting with the most recent thing that my brain has been occupied with, namely…

These losers.

Read about them if you want, I guess. Though uh… Do be forewarned that this story touches upon things like transphobia and homophobia. Because we can’t have nice things.

In my head this is a bit of a… Coming of age story? The main focus would be on the characters on the right - Luke and Jade, who are siblings growing up in an… extremely conservative family. Their regular normal people life becomes a bit more complicated as Jade comes out as a tans girl. In the illustration I decided to draw her a bit later on in the story, once she is a little further along her transition, but as you could expect in the beginning it… Doesn’t really go over well. Her parents even consider sending her off to a conversion camp, though fortunately are convinced not to.

Luke is Jade’s older brother who, aside from taking after his parents, is also very easily influenced by his friends (who, unfortunately, aren’t very good people). He’s a textbook jock, with most people thinking his only possible future lies in a sports career. The only person unaware of this opinion is Luke himself, who is still invested in his studies, even when his teachers don’t have high hopes for him. Jade coming out was quite literally his first time putting any actual thought into his parents’ and his own biases. He… Doesn’t react well, at first. Eventually he does come around and makes up for the damage he’s caused.

Jade is about two years younger than the rest of the gang. There are… A few obvious things that she’s going through. At first she is quite literally alone against everyone and really really scared, but throughout the story she finds her confidence and learns to strike a balance between prioritizing her safety and genuine self expression. She comes across as shy to most people, but that’s only because she is under a lot of mental strain. In a comfortable environment she is a little goofball.

Hemlock and Colin are Luke’s classmates (the three of them are seniors at the start of the story), though they hardly ever spoke before the inciting incident. That incident being Colin breaking the nose of one of Luke’s friends and everyone having to go to the principal’s office.

Hemlock is a relatively chill person, though they participate quite regularly in activism. Them and Colin have been friends since middle school, which was partially thanks to that. As with many calm and sweet looking individuals, Hemlock is particularly terrifying when they get angry - not because they’re violent, but because they are willing to go to unreasonable extremes to do what they think is right. Being intersex (which is something I’d have to do a lot of research on if I wanted to make it into a story) they’ve had to deal with a lot of bullshit, and are eager to help others in need of support. When they hear about Jade’s transition, they immediately insert themselves into the situation.

Colin is the overly intense and angry counterpart to Hemlock’s chill and sweet personality. He also has a much shorter fuse than them and is quite a bit more violent. The kind of person that looks like they hate you even if they don’t. He grew up raised by a single mother and one of his big aspirations is to look like she did in her teenage years. He also does martial arts, though I’ve still yet to decide what kind. Despite his aggressive and hostile character, he gets along surprisingly well with Jade (through mostly making fun of her brother).

The story essentially kicks off a couple of days after Jade comes out and her parents are still contemplating sending her off to a conversion camp. Luke and his friends get into a bit of an altercation with Hemlock and Colin, which ends with said friend having his nose broken. While waiting at the principal’s office, through a bunch of shenanigans, Hemlock and Colin catch wind of what’s happening with Jade and decide that this is absolutely their business. The rest of the story is basically the four of these goofs clashing, goofing around and eventually becoming good friends. And maybe some found family. As a treat.

That’s… Extremely long for a short summary, but I’ve… Always wanted to share some of my oc concepts and stories, even if they’re a bit watery in terms of substance. I do intend to draw more of these characters, as well as potentially the characters from other stories and/or the dnd campaign I’m in. So yeah.

[lisatelramor]

Crossing Borders ch2

Pain. Back, neck, shoulder, head, hip, couldn’t move, hurts—why?—hurts, a face above, blurry, confusion, fear, no breath in lungs to call out, no strength. Everything wrong, wrong, hurts, it wasn’t fair.

Wei Ying pushed the energy back and out, returning it to the blood; look this was your source, stay. Ugh. He hated the disorienting feeling it left him with. The fall had knocked the breath from the victim’s lungs, maybe even left him with broken ribs, and injured him in multiple places. There wasn’t any recognition though, no clear feeling toward the person who pushed him. It couldn’t have been an accident. Not with the energy up there as well as down here, but it was a puzzle as to what could have done it.

Perhaps Lan Zhan had more luck.

“Anything?” he asked, stepping back onto solid ground. There was a small furrow between Lan Zhan’s brows and that didn’t indicate anything good.

“Mm,” Lan Zhan hummed—a negative. “The spirit is present and aware, but insists that he was alone out here before he was pushed to his death.”

“And he specifically said pushed?”

“Yes.” The sounds of Inquiry faded away as Lan Zhan lifted his hand from the strings. “He thought he saw a face when he fell, but it was too poor of an angle to make out details. The pusher had long hair, however.”

“Oh, well that narrows things down to, eh, half the residents,” Wei Ying said sourly.

“Was he part of a group or a solo visitor?”

“A group.”

“Any women?”

“Yes.”

“So potentially one of them could be the murderer.”

Lan Zhan hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing; considering.

“I mean murder can be really, like, personal and all.” When it was the living doing the killing at any rate. The dead were a lot less choosy about who they took their anger out on.

“We should see the body.”

Ugh, more blood. Well, if he wanted to avoid corpses, being a cultivator was a poor career choice. Still, it never got any less gross. And annoying. …Okay, maybe his reactions to dead bodies weren’t on par with the average person’s. Most people would lead with screaming, not annoyance. “Lead on,” Wei Ying said with a heavy sigh.

He had a feeling he wasn’t going to get any more research done for a while.

*o*o*

Conan had picked through his meal—or at least as much as he was willing to eat—when the bell started ringing. With the muffled silence of the dining hall only interrupted by the sounds of moving chopsticks, the sound carried through the whole room with an ominous, low reverberation. Conan didn’t have much time to wonder what it was before two people came through the door, white robes swaying behind them as they walked so fast it skimmed the rule against running.

They went straight for the head table.

Conan didn’t like where this was going. A guest missing, an alarm bell ringing, and people on the edge of serious worry? Clearly something had gone wrong, and Conan was willing to bet it involved the missing person.

A low murmur broke out among the tables as the bell kept ringing. Conan craned his neck, but he couldn’t see the expressions on the people at the head table. What he did see was two more people standing abruptly.

“Attention!” a woman in white robes said. She wasn’t shouting, but her voice carried through the whole hall, smothering the muttering and easily heard above the bell. “There has been an incident and we must ask that all visitors return to their guest dormitories.” It was said in English, followed by Mandarin, likely because it was aimed at the wide range of guests. “Please follow a disciple back to your rooms. If you have not finished your meal, you may request further sustenance to be eaten in your rooms.”

“Well, this is really turning out to be a shit show,” Mouri grumbled under his breath.

“Tou-san,” Ran chided.

“What? There’s a billion rules, the food is awful, the rooms are awful, and now we’re going to be locked in them?”

“We’re not going to be locked in, they want to make sure everyone is accounted for,” Ran said reasonably.

“For a week getaway, it sure resembles a prison,” Mouri said as they let themselves be herded into the line of people.

Some distance behind them, Conan could see the people he was watching earlier approaching one of the robed people, concern on their faces. Clearly they also worried that their missing friend was related to the alarm. That, or they were worried he’d get separated. It was too far away to make out what was being said, never mind that it was probably in Mandarin.

“Please, follow me,” one of the residents said, presumably to the group at large. Or maybe they were dividing out by groups or housing?

Conan didn’t think too hard on that, eyes searching for clues on what might have happened. There were people everywhere, moving like an ant colony that had been poked with a stick and yet somehow still moving with calm purpose instead of running like one would expect in an emergency. The ones in white seemed to move in pairs, and that would make sense for a patrol of some sort looking for a potentially unknown threat. Everyone had backup.

There was so much movement, Conan almost missed a streak on the ground, almost lost in the footprints and dust. Blood. Not a lot of blood, but definitely blood that had been stepped in, moving toward… He squinted at the building in the distance. Not the kitchens or dining hall, naturally. The compound’s map was a vague picture in his head. Infirmary? He thought it was the right direction for it, and if someone was dead or injured, it would be the logical place to go.

Conan let himself drop back, distance widening between him and the Mouris. No one seemed to notice. They all had their tasks to carry out or were also guests moving toward different locations. He drifted back. Back more, in the direction of the probable infirmary. No one stopped him. Conan tucked into the shadow of a building and moved as fast as he could without outright running because running would probably make him noticed instantly.

Nothing to see here, just an insignificant child…

There was more blood, drops really, a smudge here or there, but this was Conan’s element. As two residents hurried by, he kept in the bushes until he was close to the infirmary door. There; a smudge of blood at the opening where someone had touched it with bloodied hands.

Conan slid the door open just enough to slip inside.

The front room was empty, just a counter and a few seats and a wall full of tiny drawers with handwritten labels on them. There was a door behind the counter, and another hallway branching off from the reception room. Down the hallway were voices, serious-toned.

He crept closer.

There wasn’t anywhere to hide in the building, definitely not in the minimalistic hallway, but if the people talking were too busy with the victim, then they wouldn’t have any reason to look out and see him. Conan crept to the doorway of some sort of exam room, the door just open a crack. The voices were clear here, but of course Conan couldn’t make head or tails of what was being said. He knew maybe twenty Mandarin phrases at most, and they might not even be the same dialect as what people here used.

He let a silent breath filter through his teeth, annoyed. He couldn’t see the victim from here, and he couldn’t get anything from the conversation beyond that no one in that room sounded happy. There had to be some way for him to get a better vantage point…

Up toward the top of the rooms was a lattice work, enough to ensure a level of privacy but also let air flow through the building. A quick glance, and yes, no one in the room next door. Conan heaved a chair on top of the cot near the adjoining wall. It wasn’t exactly a steady situation, but needs must.

Conan clambered to the top and found himself still just a bit too short to see to the other side.

With a mental deluge of swearing, he had the brilliant idea of jumping the last few centimeters to hook his fingers through the lattice and drag himself up enough to view.

Ow. Both uncomfortable, and was going to be difficult to get down from, but he could see into the other room. There were three men standing around a male corpse, the body laid out on an exam table. The man looked like he died from a head wound, between the amount of blood congealing around his head and the fact that the back of his clothes seemed to be drenched in it. Head wounds bled a lot, quickly. There were other injuries too. Blood on his fingers, leg, maybe more on the man’s back, but impossible to see without close examination.

A head wound and scraped hands. That could easily be from fighting someone off, but it was a lot more likely to be from a fall. A fall didn’t rule out murder. With Conan’s luck it was pretty much guaranteed to be murder, but he could hope that it wasn’t.

His focus was drawn back to the room at large when someone pulled a stringed instrument from… somewhere. It was some kind of qin. How had he missed such a large instrument? Why was there such a large instrument? As he watched, the men grew silent as the musician began to play. It almost… it almost looked like some of the notes were playing by themselves.

Conan squinted, trying to figure out the trick, but as he tried to pull himself up just a bit closer to the lattice—a few centimeters could make all the difference—his foot braced against the wall slipped.

“Sh—” He cut himself off, clinging with his fingertips as his hands suddenly took his full weight. Ow! The floor was a lot further away when hanging near the ceiling from a bit of carved wood. If he was any heavier, the lattice probably would have broken already.

Okay. Okay, he could do this. He just. Had to get a bit away to a clear patch of floor and drop. Or drop on the cot and hope it didn’t collapse or send the chair flying. …He knew he should have brought his suspenders. Those would be really useful right now.

By some shred of luck, the people on the other side of the wall didn’t seem to have noticed him slipping. The music kept playing with the weird serious intensity about it. If Conan could just get down, no one would be the wiser…

Slowly, he moved his hands a bit to the right. His arms were already aching, but this was fine. Conan still had the situation under control. Just half a meter more…

He slipped. Of course he slipped, he was in an annoying child body with a child’s annoying limitations, and Conan hated this situation so freaking much.

Conan clenched his eyes closed as his fingers lost their battle with the lattice, bracing for a crash, pain, the inevitable of everyone in the next room finding him and tossing him out of the compound before he could even get into solving the case.

Instead, two hands caught his middle.

“Kid, you are definitely not supposed to be here.”

Conan opened his eyes and looked up to see the man from the library. Despite the censure of his words, he didn’t actually look upset about finding Conan scaling the walls to spy on people. The person behind him, on the other hand, had a scowl that could peel paint.

“Eavesdropping is not allowed,” the second man said in clipped English.

“Lan Zhan. Chill, he’s like, eight tops.”

Conan really hated how being physically a kid made absolutely no one take him seriously. But then again, he was less likely to get in trouble if he played the little kid card. He let his eyes go wide and repentant. “I’m almost seven,” he said.

“See, practically a baby.”

Okay that was a little too demeaning. “I’m not a baby!”

Lan Zhan said something in Mandarin. The man still holding Conan by his armpits responded in English. “Okay but the baby Lans are exceptions to the rule. Except for Lan Jingyi. He gets what it’s like to be a child.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said in a tone of someone long-suffering but fond.

“Right, right.” Wei Ying swung Conan around and set him on the table so fast that Conan felt dizzy. “So. What made a kid like you spy on a bunch of old guys in a medical room?”

“Uh.” No matter how many times he got put on the spot, it never really got easier to come up with things on the fly. And it’s not like he could say he heard about this on TV. “I saw people going this direction when the alarm happened,” he said, stretching truth into his story because it always helped to give it a bit of backbone. “And there was blood on the ground and people at dinner were worried about their friend, and I thought I could find out if it was him so they’d worry less.”

Wei Ying gave him a skeptical once-over. “And you jumped from a few drops of blood to deciding that it had to be from their missing friend and that the people in this direction were, what, covering it up? Kid, that would be really weird.”

“That sort of thing happens a lot,” Conan said truthfully.

“People covering up dead bodies?”

“Yes. Or making dead bodies.”

Wei Ying stared, eyebrows going up, before glancing over his shoulder like his friend might have some sort of insight. Lan Zhan’s face was still set in a cold, judgmental stare, so Conan wasn’t sure if there was any actual communication going on there, or if Wei Ying was doing an equivalent of ‘do you see this??’ at him.

“Hey Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, “I think this kid might be cursed. Because none of that is normal. Do you know how many dead bodies a person outside of hospitals and funeral homes run into in a year? Because the answer is none. Little kids in particular should not be running into corpses on the regular.”

“I live with a detective,” Conan said.

“He takes you with him to investigate homicides?” Wei Ying said, looking horrified.

“Er.” Conan made his eyes go wider and tried to channel cute, child-y vibes. “He doesn’t try to, but a lot of the time people just… die.”

“On cases.”

Conan nodded.

Wei Ying said something to Lan Zhan in Mandarin. Conan couldn’t parse the words, but the tone made it clear he was still stuck on the whole cursed thing. People were so superstitious. First the police back home, now some random people at a Chinese temple-resort? (Conan still wasn’t sure how to refer to this place and its oddities.) Yes, he ran into a lot of bodies, but it wasn’t that weird. Running into violent crimes was part of why it had been important to live with Mouri in the first place…

“Right,” Wei Ying said, making Conan’s attention snap back to him. “So you’re going to leave the people in the next room to do their thing, and we’re going to get you back to your family.”

“But I didn’t get a chance to check on how the man was d—”

“He is dead,” Lan Zhan said, blunt and clipped and a bit different in accent than Wei Ying speaking English. His face was expressionless.

“You’re sure?”

“Ah, very sure,” Wei Ying said. “No one’s losing that much blood and living. Maybe hold off on telling his friends that though. There’s an investigation going on.”

Conan caught the implications. “You think they had something to do with it?”

“Eh? Well, maybe? But honestly, we don’t need people panicking over a death before we have all the facts.”

Conan grimaced, knowing exactly the level of chaos several dozen panicking people could produce. “Someone has to talk to them about something though. The longer their friend is missing, the more they’re going to get scared. And to know if they did it.”

“You’re stuck on one of them doing it, huh?”

“Well,” Conan shrugged, “most murders are done by people close to the victim. Unless it’s an assassin or a stalker.”

Wei Ying pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mm, really want to talk to your guardian, kiddo. Do they even know where you are? Didn’t think so.” Wei Ying sighed. “Lan Zhan.”

“Mm, time to return to the guest rooms,” Lan Zhan said.

“Wait!” Conan said. He scrambled off the table. “I don’t even know how he died yet!”

“Look, I’m only telling you this so you stop snooping,” Wei Ying said squatting to be closer to Conan’s eye level. While he appreciated the chance to look someone in the eye without craning his neck, it also felt demeaning. Conan frowned at him. Behind them, Lan Zhan made an unhappy sound. “Lan Zhan, he was in the library with me when this guy would have died. Anyway. That guy? Died falling from a cliff. So there, curiosity satisfied, go find your designated adult.”

“I’m not helpless,” Conan protested automatically, though he let himself be pushed toward the door. His mind whirled over the new information, matching the injuries he’d made out on the corpse to the cause of death. Very probable that it was the truth. Next door, the music stopped and Wei Ying all but herded him and Lan Zhan out of the room.

“I’ll handle things here, take the kiddo to his people.”

“I have a name!” Conan protested.

“That’s nice.”

Conan wrinkled his nose as Wei Ying leaned in quick to press a kiss against Lan Zhan’s face. PDA? Really? And kissing openly in China? Apparently with all those rules, somehow public displays of affection and homosexuality weren’t included. Nice to know.

“Bye-bye,” Wei Ying said with a cheery wave.

Then Lan Zhan’s hand closed over Conan’s shoulder and pushed him firmly toward the exit, leaving Conan no choice but to walk away from this particular mystery.

*o*

 He half expected to get a lecture the moment Wei Ying was gone, but instead Lan Zhan remained intimidatingly silent. Conan shot him a few uncertain glances, not quite sure what to make of him. If his boyfriend(?) was dressed casually, Lan Zhan was the exact opposite. He looked like one of those people who rarely had a hair out of place. Even his clothing was neat and stain-free despite being white robes and being in the middle of nowhere up a mountain. Add to that the eerie lack of expression now that he was no longer scowling, he could easily pass for a model or something. Someone intimidating and unapproachable.

It wouldn’t be odd to picture him leading a meditation circle or something…

Conan wasn’t going to get away from him though, not when Lan Zhan kept one hand on his shoulder the entire time like he was just waiting for Conan to try and run off again. Which was fair. Conan would absolutely hare off after anything that popped up that looked like a clue.

The rush of people from earlier were gone, just two pairs of white-robed people patrolling the main roadway between the buildings.

They had swords.

Conan would have zeroed in on that more except there was a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Kudo Shinichi’s face was there, clear as day under the edge of one of the guest quarters’ buildings. Conan stopped dead, barely feeling Lan Zhan’s fingers tighten their grip. “You!” he said, too loud in the silent courtyard.

‘Shinichi’ looked up, saw Conan, and paled before pasting over the self-assured confidence that Conan used to have before everything fell apart. “Yo! If it isn’t the little detective,” he said cheerfully.

Conan wiggled free from Lan Zhan, ignoring the sound of disapproval behind him as he stormed forward. “What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed in Japanese. “And with that face! I told you not to wear that face!” It wasn’t even as good a job as usual. Kid—because this could only be Kaitou Kid—looked like a Shinichi who’d been given a noogie while wearing hair gel. “Are you stalking me?”

“I had no idea you were here, Tantei-kun, but that does explain why everything’s gone bellies up. Your poor karma strikes again.” Kid snorted as Conan scowled.

Conan didn’t even have his soccer ball belt on right now, but he could probably wipe the grin off Kid’s face if he kicked him in the shin.

“Mr. Kuroba,” Lan Zhan said behind Conan—Conan caught a flinch Kid couldn’t quite hold in—recapturing Conan’s shoulder firmly. “You should not be out of your room. It is not safe for guests to wander at the moment.”

Kuroba, huh? Where did Conan know that name from…?

“Ah, sorry Mr. Lan,” Kid said with a little bob that barely counted as a bow. “I thought perhaps I could offer my assistance.”

“None that you could provide are currently needed.”

What help? Stealing something? Well, no, Kid wasn’t useless at a murder investigation, but he was no detective. Some flashy sleight of hand wasn’t going to be much use in finding out who pushed a man from a cliff though. Wait. Sleight of hand… “Are you a Kuroba Toichi fanboy?” Conan blurted in Japanese, remembering the hours his mother had gushed about his skills and abused the disguise skills the man had taught her. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Kid’s style had a lot similar to what Conan remembered from the couple of performances he’d been dragged to. “You are, aren’t you? You’re even copying his stage presence.”

Kid flushed, paled, flushed again, like he couldn’t decide if he was mortified, angry, or who knew what behind that grit-toothed smile.

“Mr. Kuroba Kaito?” Lan Zhan cut in, clearly not amused by being ignored, but Conan could care less.

“Wow. That’s an awful pun. What happened to Doito Katsuki?” Conan could almost forget to be angry about Kid wearing his face with all this joke fodder to hold over him. “You really chose to have a play on ‘thief’ for your first name?”

“Please shut up.”

Lan Zhan huffed. “I see you both know each other and are equally bad at doing what you are told,” he said coldly.

“Ahaaaa.” Kid rubbed the back of his head. It made the hair even more of a mess. “Sorry, sorry, I really was going to offer my help. And I didn’t even know my…cousin…was here.”

Cousin. Well, they did look related for obvious reasons. Of course ‘Conan’ looked like ‘Shinichi’. “I thought Shinichi-nii-san was still busy with a case in Japan!” Conan chirped in English.

Too brightly, because both men side-eyed him.

“Well, Conan-kun, I was following a lead.” Lan Zhan frowned like something in that explanation didn’t match what reason Kid had given to be there. Kid turned to Lan Zhan. “Sorry my cousin is being a nosy brat. He can’t help it.”

Conan pointedly kicked him in the shin, feeling a prick of satisfaction as Kid cut off a hiss of pain. “You’re just as nosy,” Conan said with his innocent-little-kid smile on.

“I am going to flirt with Mouri-chan for that,” Kid hissed in Japanese.

“Try it. I can kick rocks with just as much accuracy as a ball, and you don’t have to have a big target for me to hit you where it hurts most,” Conan shot back, still smiling. Also in Japanese because he wasn’t stupid.

Lan Zhan looked between them before visibly deciding he didn’t want to have anything to do with whatever tension was going on between them. “Mr. Kuroba, please return to you room. I am taking…”

“Edogawa Conan,” Conan said because he realized he never gave them his name.

“Mr. Edogawa back to his guardians.”

“Ah, maybe I’ll go stay with them,” Kid said.

Lan Zhan sighed, done with both of them. “Wherever you go, please stay there until someone comes by to inform you it is safe to leave your rooms.”

“Right, right!” Kid said with a laidback grin that didn’t fit quite right on ‘Shinichi’s face. Too wide, a bit too round in the cheeks. Kid’s impersonations weren’t always flawless it seemed. “We’ll do our best to keep out of trouble.”

Lan Zhan said something under his breath in Mandarin. Conan was willing to bet it was some variation of “I highly doubt that.” Then, hand coming down on Conan’s shoulder again, they were herded the rest of the way toward Conan’s room.

Kid, now that his actions were decided on, strolled casually like he didn’t have a care in the world. What was he here to steal? Or was there even anything to take? The place was so minimalistic. That didn’t mean there couldn’t be a relic of some sort set with a hefty gem; places with history often had objects with a lot of value. Still, it seemed like a lot to come all the way to China. Kid had almost exclusively stuck with Japan since his return from an eight-year hiatus.

“So,” Kid said to Conan in Japanese, as casual as if they were just catching up, “what’s the situation?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Hmm, maybe because I’ve helped before in the past? I’m guessing it’s a murder, since the only time I run into dead bodies seems to be when you’re nearby.”

Conan scowled. “If you start up about being cursed, I’m going to kick you where it hurts.”

“Oh ho?” Kid lifted an eyebrow, grinning. “Is that what you’re doing here?”

“What?”

“Seeking a cure for a curse?”

Conan frowned, squinting up at Kid’s ever-masked face. “Curses aren’t real. I’m here because Mouri won a sketchy trip to China from a shop by the race tracks.”

Kid nodded slowly. “Huh. I could see someone thinking it was Mouri Kogoro who was cursed, not you, since most people don’t know how often you run into bodies even when he isn’t around.”

“I’m not cursed! I just—”

“Attract murderers and corpses,” Kid finished. “I never ran into dead people before you. Now there’s murderers and corpses all over these days.”

“Oh, and none of that is related to you being a criminal,” Conan said scathingly.

“For your information, the number of times a person pointed a gun at me before I met you could be counted on one hand.”

“Really?” That didn’t feel like it was right. Somehow it seemed like Kid surely had to have had police aim at him, if not a criminal.

“Yes,” Kid said emphatically. “Because having guns pointed at you isn’t normal. The average person in Japan neither runs into murder victims nor rogue gunmen. You’re just a statistical outlier.”

Conan kicked at Kid’s ankles, but was rudely dodged. Lan Zhan’s hand on his shoulder kept him from following. Conan hated Kid sometimes. Bad enough he wore Shinichi’s face, he had to mock him too.

“No fighting in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Zhan said in a firm tone.

“It’s play fighting,” Conan lied.

“Tell that to my bruises,” Kid muttered under his breath.

“We are here,” Lan Zhan said as they reached one of the guest buildings. Conan had missed their arrival with how the few guest housing buildings looked identical. “Return to your room and stay there, please.” He pushed Conan firmly toward the door. “You as well, Mr. Kuroba.”

“Of course,” Kid said with a smile, catching Conan’s shoulder before he could squirm away. “Good luck with your investigation.” With a little half-bow, Kid pushed Conan through the door and shut it behind them.

A frowning resident of the Cloud Recesses stood just to the side of the door.

Kid gave her a reassuring grin, still shoving Conan along.

“Stop pushing!”

“Start walking then,” Kid said lightly. “Which door is yours?”

“Toward the end,” Conan said unhappily. “But I don’t want you wearing that face. How are you going to explain Kudo Shinichi being here in China?”

“Maybe he won a mysterious prize like your snoozing detective,” Kid said. They ducked into a side hallway, all the doors closed, and no one in view. “So, is there a body?”

“Yes,” Conan said sourly. “One body.”

“Mm, one so far, got it.”

“You’re going to jinx us.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in superstition?” Kid tilted his head to the side, a smirk that was too wide for Shinichi’s face on his lips.

Smug asshole, Conan thought. “Your face,” he said demandingly.

“I could change it,” Kid said, “but—” He held up a finger to stop Conan’s protest before it could even start. “But, this is the current face that people here are aware of me as, and I would rather not have a twitchy, paranoid disciple attacking me just because I’m the one face that isn’t on the guest list.”

Conan rolled his eyes. “There’s dozens of people here. They’re not going to notice one—”

“Tantei-kun. They’ll notice.” Kid was dead serious. Conan had seen him serious before, even if it seemed like Kid’s first instinct at any given moment was to deflect or charm anyone before him. “It may not seem like it, but they are very serious about security here, and they keep track of who is and isn’t allowed to be here at any given moment to an obsessive degree. I am not getting attacked or kicked out just to make you feel better.”

Yet again, Conan wondered what the hell sort of place this was. “They’re an ascetic resort,” he grumbled. “What do they need that level of security? Is there some kind of cover-up going on here?” Actually, that was entirely probable. That library could have held who knew what sort of information and valuables. Let alone the myriad of other buildings and kilometers of mountain land.

Kid snorted. “There’s nothing illegal going on, but they do like their secrets. It’s closer to a religious cult than anything else.”

“Rule worshippers?” Conan joked even as he turned the thought over in his head. Some sort of religious group would make sense with the remote location, the whole robe thing, the focus on practically monastic living, and even the large collection of old books. It fit, but it wasn’t a pleasant concept. If it was a cult, then who knew what sort of things they did behind the scenes? They could even be responsible for the death. Perhaps not though, with how they were reacting…

Kid laughed. “Ugh, yeah there are way too many rules. It makes me want to break as many as possible in a spectacular manner before they boot me out of this place.”

“Such a pity you have to behave or you won’t get what you came here for.”

“Exactly.”

“That was sarcasm.”

“And I’m being entirely serious,” Kid retorted. His expressions were a lot more fluid than usual, Conan noted. More fluid than Shinichi’s generally were, almost like he’d only taken Shinichi’s face as a template and added a few changes for personal taste.

Conan still hated it. “I’m not backing down about your face.”

Kid rolled his eyes so hard his head practically moved with them. “I’m not changing it. I don’t even look that much like Kudo Shinichi at the moment. This face is clearly far more handsome.”

“Excuse me?” Conan’s eyes narrowed. A bit rounder face, a wider smile and eyes that smiled a bit easier were not huge differences. Nor was hair with permanent bedhead. Perhaps the eye color was a bit darker, but perfectly matching eye color was hard; Kid probably used contacts and the shade of his natural eye color would affect the end result. Even with those small differences, Conan couldn’t say that Kid was more attractive than Shinichi’s features. Also, he was kind of insulted that Kid would suggest otherwise.

“Not that Kudo Shinichi is bad for the eyes, but he’s just not as charismatic,” Kid continued, “and charisma adds to anyone’s looks.”

“Fuck you.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure swearing is against the ru—ow.”

Conan had no regrets kicking Kid once again. It finally wiped the damn smugness off his face.

“A little defensive of your ‘cousin’ there, Edogawa,” Kid grumbled. He rubbed at his shin where there had to be quite a few bruises starting. “Look, I am not changing my face, but I won’t use Kudo’s name either. I’m just Kuroba Kaito, Japanese high school student visiting for a personal research project.”

“Is that how you’re spinning it.”

Kid shrugged, stepping back out into the hall. Conan wanted to drag him back, but he really had been gone long enough that Ran was sure to be worried. “I am here for a personal research project. It’s just not academic in the least.”

“Because it’s illegal.”

“Research isn’t.”

Semantics. Conan would keep arguing, but they were at the correct door. Instead, he knocked before the door was yanked open from the inside like someone on the other end was just waiting to open it.

“Conan-kun!” Ran said, furious and worried as she yanked him into a hug.  “I was so worried! Don’t wander off like that!”

“Ah, I just wanted to know what was going on!” Conan said, wiggling in her grip. He liked her hugs. Really. But between Kid watching and the ever-present guilt being squashed to her chest brought, now was not one of the moments to enjoy it. “I didn’t mean to get separated.”

Ran pulled back, seeing right through him. She knew him too well, Conan and Shinichi both, to believe that he hadn’t intentionally ran in a direction with trouble.

“Don’t make excuses; you always end up right—in… the middle… Shinichi?” Ran stared over Conan at where Kid stood, his hands in his pockets, watching them interact like it was a mildly interesting TV show.

“Kudo?” Mouri’s voice growled from inside the room. “If that brat is here-”

Conan flinched as Mouri appeared behind Ran, full angry-father mode.

Kid, being the asshole that he was, blinked at them like he’d never heard the name Kudo Shinichi in his life. “Who, me? Oh, no, I’m Kaito. Kuroba Kaito.” He did a quick twist of his wrist, making a paper flower appear in his hand and offering it to Ran. “Amateur magic enthusiast. Pleasure to meet you. I was just escorting this guy home.” He patted Conan on the head with his free hand and Conan swatted his touch away.

Mouri glowered as Ran accepted the flower hesitantly. Her eyes flicked across Kid’s face, no doubt spotting all the little details that Conan had in how Kid’s face differed from Shinichi’s.

“Thank you?” Ran said, more of a question than an actual thanks.

“And you must be this child’s family?” Kid said like this was a perfectly normal situation and meeting them for the first time.

“He’s just a freeloader,” Mouri said, looking Kid over like he was searching for a trick. Like Kid was a trap.

Honestly, it would have been admirable instinct except that Conan knew it was only motivated by dislike for Shinichi.

“A doppelganger?” Ran said with a frown at her flower.

“He’s never met Shinichi-nii-san,” Conan piped up in his ‘little-kid’ voice. “It’s so funny that they look alike!”

“Funny,” Mouri said flatly. “Right. Well, thanks for bringing back the troublemaker. Better get back to being stuck in a room with absolutely nothing to do.”

“Ah.” Kid somehow made himself look believably abashed and apologetic, and just a bit shy. It was such a weird look on him that Conan couldn’t help staring. “I was hoping… Ah, I was told not to go back out, and I was hoping I might be able to have some company until we’re allowed out. I have a pack of cards?” he offered, pulling one from his pocket. “It would give us something to do?”

Mouri looked at the cards, looked at Kid’s too-familiar face, and sighed. “Whatever. Better than staring at the walls.”

Conan was sure he was the only one that saw the flicker of smugness in Kid’s smile. Sadly, there wasn’t a reason to add to Kid’s shin bruises as Ran stepped back to let them inside. Conan resigned himself to having to put up with a phantom thief for the near future.

*O*O*

Wei Ying rubbed at his temples. So, they had something killing people, an unhappy dead guy, and a potentially cursed child in the mix. He’d thought the kid was a little weird in the library, but there was ‘strange child’ syndrome and there was ‘well beyond the realm of normal’ and they had to be pretty far past normal for a child under ten to be so calm after seeing a dead body. No, not just calm. Curious, driven, and intent. He had caught the kid literally climbing the walls after all.

Wei Ying didn’t have a ton of experience with children. Just some visits with Shijie and adorably grumpy Jin Ling, who was pre-verbal, and every few months seeing Wen Yuan when he visited Wen Qing and Wen Ning. Wen Yuan was only three, ridiculously easygoing, and usually well behaved. And okay, Wei Ying had a bit of experience working with younger cultivators, both at Cloud Recesses and before with the Jiangs, but that was closer to pre-teen age, not barely-school-age.

Even without any real experience with that age group, he knew the kid definitely wasn’t responding like a child should. Wei Ying would know how a kid responded to trauma. He’d lived trauma around that age.

Ugh.

Too many problems, not enough answers.

There’d been an energy for a moment back there, right before he caught the kid… Not quite resentful, not quite spiritual, something strange and yet not strange at all in a way he didn’t have a definition for yet.

In the next room, the music was petering away. Wei Ying shook his head and moved toward the door.

The cultivators playing were people he should probably know the names of by now. Because he was terrible with names and not really allowed to go to sect meetings, Wei Ying had never really figured out who they were other than only one of them actually had the surname “Lan.” He pasted on a smile as heads jerked in his direction. “Ah, looks like you’ve been busy here.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Qiren said from the corner, looking like he wanted to jump right into a lecture, but didn’t have a topic quite yet. He seemed to always think the worst of Wei Ying. It wasn’t Wei Ying’s fault that his nephew fell in love with the most morally dubious cultivator currently still active. (Xue Yang, stripped of his cultivation and in prison didn’t count no matter how creepy he was.)

Because he was never going to get the man’s approval, Wei Ying had long stopped bothering to try, preferring to be himself. Lan Zhan loved him; that was enough. Wei Ying ignored the whole group and strode over to the body.

It was pale, still stained with blood, eyes the awful glassy filmy look that the dead had, disconcertingly half open. The man had guest robes on, and clearly had a painful time of it as he died. Lots of injuries. Not a great way to go. “So, what does the corpse know?”

“For the last time,” Lan Qiren said, “Inquiry speaks to spirits, not corpses—”

“Yeah, yeah, but this guy isn’t whole. There were bits of spirit at the cliff too.” Violent deaths and all. He would pull together eventually, either becoming a resentful ghost, or passing on, but for now he was a bit of a mess, physically and spiritually.  

One of the Lan made an interested sound, but Lan Qiren shot him a frown. “We had gathered that some parts might be missing. He seems to be confused about why he was out there alone in the first place.”

“Really?” The spirit hadn’t felt confused. Maybe Wei Ying’s side got the bits with that memory. “What about what pushed him? The scraps of him at the site mostly just remembered dying.”

“What method did you—”

“We’re looking into the potential murder of a guest; do my methods really matter that much at the moment?” Wei Ying said lightly. He looked at the corpse’s hands. The nails were torn, and there was a cut on one wrist, probably where the blood at the top of the cliff came from. The resentment on the body was the same desperation-tinged feeling as the bottom of the cliff; he hadn’t wanted to die and was unhappy about it.

Lan Qiren’s lips thinned. “The man’s name is Shen Ming, and he was part of a group of students here for a week of rest to purge their bodies of stress from their studies.” Wei Wuxian took in the name and almost immediately forgot it. Murder victim a student here with friends, important info memorized. “He did not get a clear view of what killed him, but he is sure that he was pushed.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty firm about that.” Wei Ying tried to find anything out of place on the body. Injuries aside, he was wearing one of the plain guest robes that the Cloud Recesses loaned to guests that stayed more than a weekend. Nothing stood out. Nothing on him that seemed like it would attract a vengeful ghost or any other sort of spirit. “He saw something while he was dying. A person with long hair up above, but it seems likely it was a ghost with the traces of resentment and the lack of physical evidence of its presence besides, well, the victim.”

“Our wards should keep that sort of spirit out.” Lan Qiren’s frown had gone concerned. Wei Ying felt a twinge of sympathy, because if the wards weren’t working right, they would have to go all around the mountain shoring up weak points. They had children here; they couldn’t take chances with their lives.

He shifted from foot to foot. “You know, I could…with a few talismans…”

Lan Qiren held up a hand, frown etched deeper in his brow. “Not yet. If our methods fail, then you may try yours, but it would be preferable to rely on orthodox cultivation methods.”

“Right.” Wei Ying sighed. No one ever wanted to use his inventions, not even the ones that weren’t actively using resentful energy. “I could at least add more wards to the guest quarters? All one hundred percent orthodox, Lan approved talismans, I swear.”

“Hm. That would be appreciated,” Lan Qiren said, looking like it was painful to express any kind of gratitude in Wei Ying’s direction.

“Awesome, I’ll get on that.” While leaving Lan disciples to try and find a spirit that shouldn’t have been able to get in here in the first place. Ugh. It would be so much easier if he could lay down some evil attracting talismans. While it wasn’t a guarantee of luring the spirit out, it was a lot more likely to find it than combing through bushes in the woods around them. “One more thing; what are we telling the group he was with?”

He got a grimace in response and a weary pinch to the bridge of Lan Qiren’s nose. “While it would be better for the investigation to withhold anything about what happened, for legal reasons, we’re going to have to disclose that he’s dead. Call it an accident for the moment.”

“At least until we have a face to pin the attack on. Er, if the group is involved.”

“They might be. And they might be this spirit’s next victims if they weren’t directing it to kill their companion. Now I need to go talk to the sect lawyer because this is going to be a mess when it gets out.”

Wei Ying winced. Boy was he glad that it wasn’t his job to do that. He also hoped that no one in the cultivation world would take this to be somehow his fault. Get blacklisted once, and everyone looked at you funny for anything that went wrong around you. “Good luck with that. I’ll just…” Wei Ying motioned at the body.

“Don’t do anything questionable to the body,” Lan Qiren said wearily, but it was testament to how stressed he was that that was the only thing he said before leaving.

Which left Wei Ying, a corpse, and a couple higher ups in the sect. the cultivators eyed him like they were anticipating having to chuck him out of the room. Wei Ying ignored then because he tried to give judgmental assholes as little of his attention as possible. For his mental health.

The corpse was, well, very dead. And bloody. A congealing bloody mess going into rigor mortis. The worst stage of a corpse before the decomposition kicked in. (Okay, no, the failure of bodily functions was up there in worst stages and—actually maybe he wasn’t going to think about all the grossness that happened when a person died.)

More for show than actually expecting to find anything, Wei Ying carefully shifted folds of cloth, looking for any objects that the man might have been carrying. Someone scoffed behind him, but Wei Ying ignored them. The resentment from a murdered body was pretty strong. An inactive object could hold resentment and be masked by the body’s energy. He opened the front of the robes and, “Oh, hey.” There was a necklace. A piece of heavy thread knotted at the back, and only a single wooden bead strung to it.

Traces of resentment clung to the bead.

Wei Ying maneuvered the thread over the victim’s head. He let the bead dangle, not touching it just yet because he had some sense no matter what Jiang Cheng used to say. His brother was biased. “This is the sort of thing you guys were supposed to be looking for,” Wei Ying said to the room at large.

“Oh, go do your heretical cultivation somewhere else,” the person who scoffed before said.

Wei Ying rolled his eyes. “Sure. I’ll go away right when you actually need me.” The person started saying something else, but Wei Ying went back to ignoring them. The bead was about as big around as his thumbnail, smooth and glossy like it had been lacquered not too long ago. Nothing carved or written on it. No obvious reason to hold resentment. Well—besides the fact that a murder victim had been holding it. Wei Ying was sure that this resentment was a bit different from the corpse’s though. He was sensitive to that kind of thing.

Anger, not fear and desperation. Something bitter mixed in. Regret, maybe, or betrayal. The bead wasn’t cursed, but it might have been possessed at some point. He poked it with a cautious finger, barely brushing the surface before pulling his hand away. Nothing. “Well, that’s disappointing.” Whatever it had been, it was drained now.

He looped the thread around the corpse’s wrist. It was a bad idea to steal something from someone who died violently after all.

“What’s happening to the body now?” Wei Ying asked one of the nearby disciples.

The woman frowned at him, but answered, which was nicer than some people managed around here. “It will be moved to cold storage until arrangements for a funeral are made and it can be transported back. There isn’t much more we can get from the body after all.”

Wei Ying nodded. “And his friends?”

“Can view the body, but it will likely upset them.” The woman laid a cover over the corpse, giving it a bit of dignity in death that it otherwise hadn’t been granted so far. “Hopefully the spirit that caused this is found soon and this whole thing can be put behind us.”

“Yeah, random deaths are kind of bad for online reviews,” Wei Ying joked. That got him annoyed looks all around. A tough crowd. He should have known better than to try and joke with a Lan that wasn’t Lan Zhan. He sighed. “Well, guess I should break the news to his group.” This was going to be a shit show.

He’d have to grab Lan Zhan for moral support.

[storiesofsvu]

hi, your probably already been asked this before but wanted your HC about Rita's apartment/or where she lives. I'm so interested on how amazing it probably would be.

hey bestie.

so i definitely have thought of this a LOT, but i never really did a whole lot of research on specific real estate sights for NYC/Rita (yet!) aside from her brief stay in the penthouse in Penthouse of Sugar.

I'm going to invest some time maybe this week, to go through and try and find the perfect place for her in reality/with pictures/an actual listing. but for now will give you some general HC's about where I think Rita does/has/would live.

We all know Rita is not stranger to money, personally I do think she was raised with wealth, she's always known what it was like to be upper class, and obviously rakes in the cash with her career now. This is quite literally canon because of s17 when it's revealed she went to Dowland, a high end, expensive, ritzy private school. Her high school friend lives in a gorgeous giant house, has a housekeeper, etc. BUT, I also very deeply head canon tha she *knows* what it is like to work for a living, she's not some spoiled brat.

I think she was raised on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, in some fancy ass nice either multifloor apartment (like the ones on gossip girl) or a large brownstone.

As an adult, I can definitely see her on the UES still, but I always picture her in an apartment, not a brownstone or actual house, don't ask me why.

Tribeca is the second area I hc her living in, it's expensive, there's great views, and it's super close to the court house. While we don't canologically know where her firm is, I wouldn't be surprised if it's also in the area, which would make things walkable/not a long car ride, and we all know she doesn't drive and would probably NEVER be caught on the subway...

I think I like her in an apt because she's a very independant person and comfortable on her own. Having a partner isn't her number one concern in life and I do hc her being 10000% comfortable being perpetually single. So she's not going to be in a giant 3-5 bedroom place. A nice 2-3 bedroom max. Like, main suite for herself, one for a home office, and *maybe* a guest room depending on the apartment building.

An apt also gives her ammenities, there's probably a gym, a rooftop terrace, the extra security of a doorman, maybe even a nice little coffee shop connected to the lobby that definitely knows her by name and exactly what her order is and has it ready and waiting at precisely the time she needs it in the morning.

Rita wants a place that's in a nice area, has a couple of bistros, nicer bars and the like around for her social life. She likes at least a small private terrace for herself, indulging in morning coffee, summer mojitos while suntanning, curling up with a nice mug of tea and a good book at the end of the long week while she watches the sun set.

She wants a place with large windows, lots of sun, natural light, the courthouse, precincts and probably her office don't get a lot of that, so she wants to get it where she can. For the same reason I picture a lot of open space, at least in the common areas.

Though the one thing she absolutely does not give a fuck about is the kitchen. For obvious reasons.

As for aesthetic/furnishing... why cant I think of the phrase? lololol. It's going to be neat, tidy, i can definitely see a nice hardwood throughout, decorated with stylish cozy rugs in the living room. Bright, not all white, and not like, obnoxious colours, but bright, nice, calming and relaxing on the eye.

It's going to have lavish touches for SURE, more than a few pieces of very perfectly selected art from around the city on the walls. The common areas are going to be more generalized, the further you get into the house and closer to the bedroom you get the more her soul is exposed. The more personal, very close to the heart things she keeps in the bedroom.

Homegirl also loves books, if there's a nook or corner of the living room she can convert into an in the wall bookshelf, she's going to have that done and it's going to be (very neatly and meticulously organized) crammed with books of all genres.

That's all i've got for now, and we'll do some sleuthing on the internet to get some pictures and listings and further ideas for the stuff that i can't really describe well lol. I might add them in here, i might make a separate post! We'll seee!