#Practice JAMB Questions

[corroded-hellfire]

Continuing on with my baby fever I came across videos of parents "laying" (softly hovering) on their babies lap to see their reaction. Some babies are gentle with one parent and push of the other parent. But I wanna see how Eliza would react to the entire Munson family doing this. Thank you!

Baby fever you say? 👀 Step into my office…

Honestly, looking up reference videos for this fic was the most heart melting thing ever and I thank you for bringing that into my life. I hope I have done this justice for you!

Words: 3.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Ugh,” Luke groans as he flops down on the floor of Eliza’s nursery. The Minnie Mouse shirt and pair of toddler jeans he’s holding smack him in the face as his dramatics bring him down.

Eliza sits on her miniature butterfly couch and watches her brother, face stoic as the two-year-old is used to the theatrics he’s inherited from their father. 

“What is taking so long?” Ryan strolls into the room and leans against the door jamb. He crosses his arms over his chest and arches an eyebrow as he clocks his brother on the ground. 

Flinging the articles of clothing behind him, Luke huffs and turns his head to meet Ryan’s questioning look.

“Every outfit I pick out she doesn’t like!”

Heaving a loud sigh, Ryan saunters over to the closet tucked into the corner of the pink room. Curious as to what he’s doing, Eliza cranes her neck in an attempt to see past her oldest brother. Try as she might though, she doesn’t have x-ray vision and has to wait for Ryan to turn around to see the black and white striped dress and pastel green sweater.

“Eh?” Ryan raises his eyebrows as he holds the items out towards the toddler.

Keeping her chin high, little Eliza looks over the proposed outfit before nodding her affirmation once. 

“What?” Luke shouts as he bolts upright. “The Minnie Mouse shirt is way better!”

Ryan throws a smirk over his shoulder at his younger brother as he helps Eliza get changed into the winning look of the day. 

“She must love me more.”

“Uh, no,” Eliza hums as her head pops free from the confines of the dress. “Better clothes.”

Luke cackles with laughter, arms crossing against his stomach as he falls on his back once more.

“Oh, that’s too good! Please, we all know I’m her favorite,” Luke says.  

At only two-years-old Eliza is already used to her brothers competing in almost every aspect of life. She rolls her doe brown eyes and allows Ryan to help her into the green sweater before leaving the two boys alone in her room. 

“I seem to recall us having this argument before and Grandpa somehow coming out the winner,” Ryan says, following the little girl’s lead and heading towards the door. 

“Well,” Luke says, stretching out the word as he scrambles to push himself up into a standing position, “then this time we don’t allow him to be part of our bet.”

The older Munson brother shakes his head in amusement as he walks out into the hall and to the right, towards the rest of the house. Luke is right behind him though, practically nipping at his heels as he waits for some kind of response. 

“What bet?” Ryan asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Yeah, what bet?” Eddie echoes, eyeing his two sons over his “#1 Dad” coffee mug where he leans against the counter. 

“Seeing who Eliza’s favorite is. And not Grandpa this time,” Luke informs his dad as he slides into a chair at the table. 

“I believe that would be me,” you say with a proud smirk, traipsing in from the living room with an empty sippy cup. “I just turned on Rolie Polie Olie for her.” 

“No one can compete with the Rol,” Eddie jokes, giving you a playful wink and a smile. 

“She definitely loves that show more than she loves any of us,” Ryan says. He yanks the refrigerator door open and stares inside as if something new is magically going to appear before his eyes. 

“I bet I could interrupt it and she’d be okay with it,” your husband says. “And will you either grab something out of the fridge or close the damn door?”

“So, you’re saying you’re the favorite, Dad?” Luke asks, eyebrows disappearing into the curls that are getting too long for his liking. 

“Isn’t that old news?” Eddie asks with a smirk as he walks over to grab Luke’s box of Lucky Charms. 

“Everything about you is old,” Ryan says.

The joke has your hand slipping, causing the apple juice you were refilling Eliza’s sippy cup with to spill all over the counter. Avoiding Eddie’s eyes, you try to hide your snort of laughter as you grab a towel to mop up the mess. Once the sippy cup is successfully filled up, you turn back towards the living room—Eddie’s eyes still firmly burning your back—and go to give your daughter her drink. 

“Didn’t we already do this? I feel like we played this game before,” you say. “Eliza picked Wayne over all of us.”

Eddie shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee. “No beating the old man. The actual old man.” Eddie narrows his eyes at Ryan, who just chuckles in return. 

“No,” Luke says. He shakes his head as he lets the marshmallow cereal fall into his bowl. “We have to know who her favorite in the house is.” 

“Any ideas?” Ryan asks, plopping down in the seat across the table from his little brother. 

“Hmm,” Luke hums as he chews on a bite of his breakfast. “I’ll brainstorm at school today.”

In the end, it’s you who comes up with the idea that sets the competition into motion. Once Eddie heads out to work and the boys to school, you realize how much you’re able to get done around the house because Eliza is thoroughly hypnotized by her favorite show. It’s not until the hour of Rolie Polie Olie is done that Eliza is running around the house, wanting to play with every toy under the roof. 

After dinner that night, and once Eliza is in bed, you bring your idea up to the boys.

“So, like, we take turns? One person a day?” Luke asks.

You nod in confirmation.

“Right. Because if we all did it one after the other on the same day, she’d get cranky and it wouldn’t be fair for whoever goes last.”

“What, we like, pick straws?” Ryan asks. “Then someone goes Tuesday, then Wednesday...?”

“I’m game,” Eddie says. He lifts one flannel-clad arm and rests it behind you on the couch, giving you the perfect opportunity to snuggle into his side. 

“So…” Luke muses as he walks over to the couch and takes a seat next to you, on the opposite side of Eddie. “We just put our heads in her lap like this?” The younger Munson boy demonstrates by laying his curly head on your thighs, staring up at you with wide blue eyes. 

“Exactly,” you say, reaching down to boop the tip of his nose. “See if she cuddles you or pushes you off. And then we’ll see who she has the best reaction to.”

“I like it,” Ryan says.

“Me too,” Luke agrees. “Ryan, go get straws. Cut one short!”

With an irritated eye roll, Ryan does as his little brother says, feet shuffling along the carpet as he goes. 

The plan springs into action the next day. According to the laws of the straws, Ryan was up first. Followed by Luke, you, and then Eddie rounds it out. 

Tuesday morning starts off like every other weekday, everyone running through their routines to get ready for whatever lies ahead for them that day. Once Eliza is dressed in her purple long sleeve shirt, pink overalls, and her morning apple juice is finished, it’s time for the games to begin. 

You, Eddie, and Luke watch as inconspicuously as you can from the kitchen entryway as Ryan approaches the couch. Your daughter’s eyes never leave the little yellow robots, even as her oldest brother kneels on the dusty-brown cushion next to her and keeps scooting closer.��

Eliza’s leaning back, her legs out straight in front of her, and Ryan takes advantage of the open space to lay his head right down on her little knees. The two-year-old just seems confused at first. She looks down at Ryan, back up to Rolie, down to Ryan, up to Rolie, then back down to Ryan again. After staring down at her big brother for a little while, Eliza reaches for his head and begins to card her tiny fingers through his golden-brown locks. Her hands continue the movements even as she turns her attention back to the television screen. Ryan can’t help but smile; it actually feels really nice. She keeps up the motions until there’s a commercial. Then Ryan rolls on his back to look up at her and she giggles down at him in return, not sure what he’s doing, but happy to have his attention. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Ryan asks.

Instead of answering verbally, Eliza wraps her arms around her big brother’s neck and settles back against the cushions. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ryan says with a chuckle, before adding under his breath, “and as a win.”

Wednesday, it’s Luke’s turn. Once Eliza’s got her favorite show on and a cup of apple juice in her, he makes his move. It’s clear from the moment Luke’s head hits her lap that Eliza is in a feistier mood today. Whether she woke up like that or Luke brings it out of her is anyone’s guess. 

“Ow,” Luke groans as two small hands beat down on the side of his head as if it’s a drum. The boy winces, face scrunching up, but as you watch him alongside Eddie and Ryan from around the corner, you can tell Luke is trying to stick it out and see if he can somehow salvage a win. There’s a brief glimmer of hope when Eliza stops percussing on her brother’s head. However, it’s short-lived. 

Short, stubby fingers make their way up to Luke’s curls and the youngest Munson boy breathes a sigh of relief, seeing as how gentle the toddler was with Ryan’s hair the day before. The problem, they discover, is that since Luke’s curls are far tighter than his older brother’s, Eliza’s fingers quickly get caught in them. 

“Oh, please no,” Luke murmurs, but it’s too late.

Eliza tries to yank her hands free, frustrated that her fingers can’t run smoothly through his locks like she did for their eldest sibling. She pulls Luke’s hair while letting out her own whine.

“Ouch! Why are you whining? I’m the one who’s about to be bald!”

Next to you, Eddie lets out a snort of laughter. 

“Bald?” Eddie says. “Wayne? That you?”

Giving a roll of your eyes, you gently swat at his stomach. Luke also hears his dad’s remark and gives him a glare from the couch as he tries to wrestle himself free from the toddler’s grip. 

Finally, Eliza is able to slip her hands free from the rat’s nest that’s become of Luke’s hair—thanks to her. She’s thoroughly annoyed now and grumbles a few low groans, giving up on words completely. If she were old enough to know swear words, she’d definitely be using those.

Luke breathes a sigh of relief and raises a hand to rub at his sore scalp. Before he can make contact though, both of Eliza’s hands splay flat on the back of his skull and she gives a hard shove. The implication is clear: get off my lap.

Not willing to risk any more of her tiny wrath, Luke rolls off her and off the couch altogether. He lands with a thud on the carpet and gets the chance to rub at his head at last. His eyes narrow as he looks up at Eliza, who is no longer paying him any mind. She’s immersed in Rolie Polie Olie once again, the rest of the world forgotten. 

Your youngest son pushes himself to his feet with a huff. He shuffles back towards the kitchen, back towards the rest of you.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he mumbles as he passes, heading straight for the fridge. 

To Eddie and Ryan’s credit, they do both stay silent as the three of you turn to watch Luke yank a Yoo-Hoo out of the refrigerator and pop the top. He chugs down half the bottle before wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand. 

“Ugh,” Luke says with a sigh as he heads toward the hallway. “It’s not even 8 am yet.”

With both of the boys’ attempts out of the way, you’re up. You debate going in straight for the lap when you give her the purple sippy cup of apple juice, but something tells you that you’d end up with a wet and sticky face though. Instead, you wait until most of the beverage is gone and she’s let the bottle roll out of her hand onto the cushion next to her. 

“Good luck, babe,” Eddie says, giving your ass a pat before you walk out into the living room. 

As soon as your knee touches the couch, the television show your daughter is so transfixed on goes to commercial. She turns her head to look at you, large brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

You freeze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. It’s odd to be struck still and silent by your two-year-old, but here you are. Rolie Polie Olie being on a commercial break could either make or break this for you. 

���Mama!” Eliza chirps.

A breath loses from your chest, and you give her a grin as you move to lay your head on her little legs. The moment your body makes contact with hers, Eliza’s arms encircle you as much as they possibly can, and she leans down to rest her head against yours. Her cheek smooshes against yours, her chin bumping into the corner of your eye. 

Warmth floods through you, your heart growing three sizes as she lays all her body weight against yours.

“Hold on,” you hear Luke mutter from the kitchen, “wait to see what happens when the show comes back.”

There are only about forty-five seconds until just that happens. 

Eliza’s skin brushes against your cheek as she adjusts her head to get a better view of the television, but otherwise stays where she is. In fact, it feels as if she cuddles into you even further as she settles in to watch her favorite show. 

“Oh, come on,” you hear Luke complain. The twelve-year-old is clearly not happy that he is losing this competition so far. It’s not as if Eliza could be bribed, though. Luckily, toddlers haven’t been corrupted by life yet. 

Luke walks into the room and stands at the side of the couch, hands resting on his hips. 

“Comfy, are we?” he asks. 

It’s evident your daughter is quite cozy as she doesn’t look up at her brother or move for the rest of the episode. 

“All right,” Eddie says, rubbing his hands together. “Saved the best for last.”

“Debatable,” Ryan says as he chomps on a granola bar. 

Your husband flicks Ryan’s black-rimmed glasses so they slide down his nose. With a huff that sounds far more sophisticated than one coming from a fourteen-year-old, your son shakes it off. 

“Ready?” you ask, slipping your arms around Eddie’s waist. 

“Always up for snuggles with my girls.” 

A wet, smacking kiss is placed on your cheek, and you let out a soft giggle.

“Gross,” Luke groans.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Eddie taunts, proving he’s as mature as his adolescent sons. 

You let your arms drop from around his middle and you cup Eddie’s cheeks. 

“Go get her,” you say.

He pecks your lips before heading out into the living room.

Eliza is as entranced as always in her cartoon and Eddie takes advantage of that by silently sidling up to her. She doesn’t even realize he’s there until the couch dips next to her and her empty sippy cup rolls until it meets Eddie’s jean-clad knee.  

He moves the cup aside and slowly lowers himself until he’s able to rest his head in his daughter’s lap. 

At first, it’s as if Eliza doesn’t even notice. She’s watching her show, letting her dad just lay down on her. But after a few seconds, her stare breaks from the television and her brown eyes meet matching larger ones. Her head tilts to the side, inspecting him, and her curls bob with the motion. Eddie smiles up at her and a slow grin grows on her face in return. 

One of Eliza’s tiny hands splays across Eddie’s forehead, some of his bangs getting pushed to the side, and some getting caught under her warm palm. Her other hand lands on his chin, delicate fingers curving around his jaw and rubbing against some stubble. 

Eliza stays like that, looking down at her father, not moving. It takes everything in Eddie not to laugh as he just stares back at the inquisitive little face that reminds him so much of you. 

Quickly, Eliza leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of Eddie’s nose. Gone is his urge to laugh, replaced by the most adoring grin as he revels in her affection. He’s about to thank her for the kiss when she leans in to do it again. This time, however, her mouth is open, and she ends up enveloping his nose in her small mouth.

There’s no way Eddie can hold in his laughter this time as he feels her drool dribble up his nose onto his face. The giddiness is infectious because Eliza pulls her mouth off only to begin laughing alongside of him. 

“You might just be as weird as I am,” he tells her, which makes her laugh even harder. 

That night at dinner, the results are discussed.

“So, who wins?” Ryan asks as he spears some green beans with his fork.

“Not me,” Luke grumbles, slouching down in his chair. 

“Oh, relax,” Eddie says, reaching over and clapping the younger boy on the shoulder. “It’s not like this was scored or anything.”

Luke drops his fork onto the plate with a clang and raises his hands up in front of him.

“My hair ruined it for me! That’s not fair!”

“You know, she can talk now,” you point out, looking at Eliza happily eating in her highchair next to you.

“Good point,” Ryan says. He clears his throat and leans across the table towards her. “Eliza, which of us is your favorite?”

The little girl pops a grape in her mouth and chews, looking like she’s thoughtfully thinking over the question.

“Me,” she finally says.

“No,” Luke says with a shake of his head. “Which of us?” He emphasizes his point by gesturing to the four of you around the table. 

Eliza nods her head once, with finality. “Me.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and shrugs his shoulders.

“Her Majesty has spoken.”

“I don’t think it counts,” Luke laments, looking back down to his plate.

“Yeah, her vote doesn’t count,” Ryan agrees.

You and Eddie share a look of amusement across the table. With these three around, life will never be boring.

[thecordelialetters]

The Bionic and the Ballerina Pt.2

Chase Davenport x fem!reader

wc: 1,666

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves; it is not my nature.” — Jane Austen

Chase and his siblings save you from the falling elevator and you can't help but fall for him a little more

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

The next day you saw Leo exit the elevator and slowly crept up behind him. You grabbed his shoulders and screamed "Boo!" Leo jumped up turning around, "I really wish to not have a heart attack at school." He put his hand on his chest. You smiled down at him and shrugged "Sorry." We walked up to Principal Perry giving her speech about Emergency Preparedness Week. "An emergency drill can happen at any time. So when the alarm sounds, you must evacuate the building in an orderly fashion, like cattle..if cattle had acne and braces...and a future filling up my gas tank." You turned to Leo before noticing the space next to my empty. He was talking to his siblings. You gradually walked up behind Chase before moving my lips to his ear. "Boo," You whispered. It sent a shiver down his spine, he turned around finding his face a mere few centimeters from yours. He jumped back, "Hey (y/n)! How much did you hear? Um, we were just talking about what superpowers we wish to have." "Ooh if I had a superpower...hmm.. I think I'd want teleportation or telekinesis. Imagine you could pop anywhere you want! or move stuff with your mind!" Adam spoke up, "I like this game! I probably want Bree's super speed!" The siblings froze. Bree spoke up, "What he means is he also would want super speed like me! Because I'd always want super speed you know I could get places sooo fast." You turned and nodded. They were a bit awkward but you didn't question it, Adam always did seem to say things without thinking. You turned to Chase and placed a hang on his bicep "I had to meet Mr. Jackson before class to hand in some work, I'll see you there yeah?" His arm was really muscular. For a nerdy guy who seemed to study all the time, Chase was surprisingly super buff. "Wow, you work out?" You squeezed slightly. He blushed at your praise and responded, "A little bit here and there, I'll see you there." You winked before turning on your heel and sauntering down the hall.

Adam mocked in a high-pitched voice, "Wow Chasey you're soooo buff and hot mwuah mwuah!" He fluttered his hands up and down. "Hey don't make fun of her." Chase glared. "I just don't get what a girl like that sees in a tiny guy like you." But Chase had had enough. He was sick of his siblings, especially Adam ragging down at him. He'd like to believe that someone did find his appeal in this world.

Breaking away from the staredown Leo spoke up, "Hey, you know what would be awesome? If you guys took out your bionic chips and switched abilities." The gears in Chase's head started turning. Maybe you'd like him more if he was strong like Adam. "Why can't we?" "I call your super smarts!" "I call your super speed!" "I call your super strength"

"I call good looks and charisma! Oh too late already got em." The trio turned to look at him before laughing.

Chase met up with you in history a little while later. "Hey" He nudged your arm. You turned to him with a small smile, holding your finger to your red-painted lips before pointing to the teacher. "I thought I was the goody two shoes here." He chuckled. You rolled your eyes before punching his arm softly. After class the two of you gathered your things while Chase offered to hold your books for you. "So how was Dance practice?" He asked. Chase had never seen you dance before but was curious. He didn't know much about ballet except for what was seen on TV. You shrugged and replied "Same old, It's a lot of controlled movements. I practiced my pliés, tendus, and rond de jambes. I still struggle at times with my pirouettes but I'm close to perfection!" Chase used his bionics to quickly look up the terms you threw at him. "Wow, that does seem like hard work no wonder why you rehearse so much." "Hey, I would love to see you dance sometime." You smiled at his interest. Most guys wouldn't care at all about what you said, ballet being a "girly thing". "Yes! I'd love to have you see me perform! There is a show in a few weeks. We're going to be doing Sleeping Beauty. I can get you and your family tickets." He nodded eagerly. "Great I'll send you the details later!" You ran ahead of him waving to go to your next class. Behind your back, Chase was fist-pumping the air. "Yes! She wants me to come see her!"

The next day you saw Adam Bree and Chase you noticed something was wrong. Earlier you had asked Chase to clarify covalent bonds and he just looked at you and started mubling and laughing about ionic bonds and what even are bonds. You had met up with Leo who convinced you to take the elevator with him before the emergency alarm went off. You had been so lost in thought thinking about what was wrong with Chase that you noticed Principal Perry in the elevator as well. "Um, what happened why aren't we moving?" Perry shrugged, "The power is still on, must be a fuse. The one day I don't wear my tool belt!"

The room started to feel small. 3 people trapped in a small tin box? You started to panic, blocking out your surroundings you leaned in the corner and slowly fell to the ground. The nerves were getting to you, you put your hands over your eyes and squeezed your eyes shut. Being confined in small spaces was not your cup of tea. You opened your eyes again to Perry prying the elevator doors open. Eyes wide it confirmed the fear, stuck between floors meant that there was no getting out.

Noticing your discomfort Leo went to put an arm around your shoulder. Perry grabbed the phone angrily "Listen up, generation epic fail. It's your fearless and loveable leader Principal Perry. I am stuck in the elevator, repeat I am stuck in the elevator!" Leo quickly removed himself from you "Hey It's me Leo, me and (y/n) are also stuck in the elevator!"

You looked around, "Um Leo, why does it smell like it's burning?" A snap was heard and the elevator shook. You were panicking and breathing heavily when you heard a familiar voice outside. "Leo? (y/n)? it's us we'll be right back to get help." You called out to him in desperation "Please hurry" as the tears fell down your cheeks. Chase felt guilty, it was partially his fault, partially his siblings, but he was supposed to be the smart one. And now because of them, you were trapped in the elevator. He was going to make it up to you later.

It had been about an hour and a half of being trapped with Perry and Leo and you had just witnessed their... less than normal habits and confessions. You felt the elevator move up and your heart seemed to want to burst from your chest. The doors opened and there stood the siblings with concerned looks on their faces. You ran out as quickly as possible not wanting to be trapped in a metal box and threw your arms around Chase's neck.

You pressed your face in his shoulder, some tears soaking up in his. His hand pressed around your back while the other one held your waist. "Thank you, I was terrified." Chase tried to comfort you the best he could, "Im so sorry (y/n)." But you shook your head and moved to hug Adam and Bree, "Thank you all for the help. I would love to stay and do something more for you guys but I'm extremely late for practice and am definitely in for a punishment." You grabbed your bag off the grounding giving each sibling a kiss on the cheek and running off.

Chase looked at his siblings, "wow french people am I right?" He laughed off the awkwardness. Leo spoke up next "you saved me I owe you one." "Actually we're the ones that got you stuck in there." Leo huffed, "well then you'll be hearing from my lawyers." With that he walked off leaving the trio behind.

The next day at school you brought in a basket letting the smell of apple waft through the halls. Seeing the Davenport kids and Leo you belined to them. "Hey guys, I um wanted to thank you again so I baked this pie ! I hope you like it." You held the neatly wrapped dessert up. It was covered in a red and white plaid sheet with a red bow tied across. The siblings melted at your gesture, even though they technically were the cause of the problem never have they been thanked for their service. Even Davenport would rather give them a list of things they did wrong before thanking them for their hard work. Adam was he first to move he grabbed the pie and scooped you up with one arm. "Erm Adam." You muffled in his shirt. "Thank you little Lady this means a lot," he said before fake crying. Chase tried to not let your kind gift be overshadowed by his jealousy for Adams fowardness with you. He wanted to be the one sweeping your off our feet not his brother. He was thankful when Bree said "Alright Adam let her go, she doesn't want to smell your stinky pits." "oh right" he said as he let you down gently. You patted your hair back down and fluffed your skirt out. The bell rang as you walked up to Chase holding your arm out, "Well shall we?" He linked his arms through yours, "We shall." Before walking off together. Behind the two of you Bree gave Chase a knowing stare before scolding Adam who was already first first into the pie.

Authors Note : Im on a writing grind! so much so I think the words are burned into my eyes...

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Lit Hub: The Question of Homoeroticism in Whitman’s Poetry

Walt Whitman’s best poems demonstrate an almost unimaginable prescience; he and Dickinson, among 19th-century American poets, possess a nearly chilling self-consciousness, an acute self-analysis. Edward Carpenter, the British anarchist, writer, and champion of the Arts and Crafts movement whose life and romance were the model for E. M. Forster’s novel Maurice, wrote this elegant description of a visit with Whitman in 1877; the emphases are Carpenter’s own: “If I had thought before (and I do not know that I had) that Whitman was eccentric, unbalanced, violent, my first interview certainly produced quite a contrary effect. No one could be more considerate, I may almost say courteous; no one could have more simplicity of manner and freedom from egotistic wrigglings; and I never met any one who gave me more the impression of knowing what he was doing more than he did.” That there were words for homosexual behavior in Whitman’s day there can be no doubt. Social structures for enabling same-sex congress seem to have been a feature of life in the modern city at least since the later 18th century, when the “Molly houses” in London offered a zone of permission for transvestism. Herman Melville, in Redburn, carefully evokes the nattily dressed fellows who hang out in front of a downtown restaurant where opera singers perform; he means us to understand what these stylish outfits convey. Historian and theorist Luc Sante describes a 19th-century pamphlet that takes as its project the publication of the locations of various quite particular spots of diverse sexual practice in New York City—so that those informed of, say, the address of a bordello featuring willing boys can take special care to avoid this hazard. Trenchant evidence comes from Rufus Griswold’s review of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass: “We have found it impossible to convey any, even the most faint idea of style and contents, and of our disgust and detestation of them, without employing language that cannot be pleasing to ears polite; but it does seem that someone should, under circumstances like these, undertake a most disagreeable, yet stern duty. The records of crime show that many monsters have gone on in impunity, because the exposure of their vileness was attended with too great indelicacy. Peccatum illud horrible, inter Christianos non nominandum.” Which is all a way of saying that Whitman inscribes his sexuality on the frontier of modernity; he is writing into being—particularly in the “Calamus” poems of 1860, with their frank male-to-male loving, their assumption of equality on the part of the lovers—a new situation. He does not know how to proceed—he has no path —but he does it anyway. My guess is that he couldn’t have written “Calamus,” or the boldly homoerotic portions of the 1855 Leaves, even ten years later, as the advent of psychology increasingly led to a public perception of the normative, and imagery of the sacred family becomes the object of Victorian romance. As a category of identity—sodomite, invert, debauchee, pervert, Uranian—begins to emerge, so the poems with their claims of a loving, healthy, freely embraced same-sex desire become unwriteable, paradoxically, just as new language of homosexual identity begins to appear. Unwriteable, and, it would seem from Whitman’s later remarks, and some of his revisions, barely defensible. Carpenter and his readers were reaching for signposts of a gay identity when such a thing barely existed, but Whitman is ultimately a queer poet in the deepest sense of the word: he destabilizes, he unsettles, he removes the doors from their jambs. There is an uncanniness in “Song of Myself” and the other great poems of the 1850s that, for all his vaunted certainty, Whitman wishes to underscore. Again and again, he points us toward what, it seems, must remain folded in the buds beneath speech, since it cannot be brought to the surface. (Full article)

[c-e-d-dreamer]

The Rest Is History

A/N: Listen, was I supposed to be working on IPB AU? Yes. Did I write this fun drabble instead? Also, yes. I'm surrounded by enablers.... but the fact remains that Cassian is absolutely thinking abou the Roman Empire daily. And he would make a hot history nerd, so here we are. Dedicated to the GC ❤️

“Listen. I get it. It looks cool and all that, but you seriously expect me to believe any general in their right mind is going to use catapults and ballistae in a forest? A forest? Just imagine the poor guys trying to maneuver those into place between the trees. It would take forever and only leaves you exposed and puts you at more of a disadvantage.”

Nesta has to bite her lip around a smile as she listens to Cassian rant in the other room. Even through the closed door, his voice carries down the hall to her.

She had known Cassian was a history buff from their very first date. They’d gone to a bar in the historical part of town, down by the harbor, and as if he simply couldn’t stop himself, Cassian had leaned over after they’d ordered their drinks and explained how the location was notorious for shang-haiing back in the day. How one of the most notorious culprits was actually a woman who would flirt and trick sailors into having drink after drink with her until they passed out and woke up dazed and confused on a ship the next morning while she walked away with her pocket full of coin.

He had apologized almost as soon as he’d finished speaking, clearly embarrassed by the outburst. But Nesta had been so entranced by the way his hazel eyes had lit up when he spoke, the golds and greens of them practically sparking even in the low light of the bar. Entranced by the way his lips had tugged up into an easy, excited smile around the words he spoke. Entranced by his passion and his love even if it was for a topic she didn’t necessarily share in.

It had been enough to want a second date with him.

It had been enough to want a lot of dates with him.

And now, here Nesta is, curled up in the room they converted to her own personal library and office, listening to Cassian rant away to his followers on TikTok. It still leaves her with that same feeling as their first date, that same soft warmth blooming between her ribs. Still has her shaking her head fondly, as she burrows deeper beneath her pile of blankets and returns to the final chapter of her book.

By the time she is finishing the last page and finally closing the book, Nesta is less than impressed. She digs her phone out from where it’s buried between blankets and opens her Notes app, adding to her running list of points to make in her review. The ending? Terrible. Nothing worse than an author who clearly got offered a new book deal so they suddenly decide to add unnecessary plot to the final ten pages to set up another book. She’ll definitely be warning her TikTok followers about that.

To take her mind off the ending, she decides to open up the app in question, to check on what her followers are saying about her last book review, liking and replying to a good chunk of them. With a soft sigh, she sinks deeper against the pillows at her back, navigating to her FYP. Almost all of the videos are a trend sweeping across BookTok, of different creators trying to teach their boyfriends and husbands how to be a good book boyfriend. It has an idea sparking in Nesta’s mind, her eyes dancing toward the closed door to the library.

With a decided nod, she clambers up to her feet, padding out of the room and down the hall. She pauses in the doorway to Cassian’s office, leaning casually against the door jamb and watching him work. He has his ring light set up on the desk, phone poised and recording in the center. His hair is scraped back into a bun, and he’s wearing a loose tee that teases just enough of the dark swirls of ink that splash across his collarbones, that twist down his arms. But it’s his hands that really have Nesta’s attention, the way he waves them about as he passionately speaks to the camera.

“And don’t even get me started on the depiction of Marcus Aurelius. Did they even have a historian in that writer’s room?”

As Cassian continues to rant about the Roman emperor and his character in the movie, it’s clear that he can feel Nesta’s eyes on him. It’s the smile that gives him away first, the slow tug of his lips until the soft, dopey look he fondly calls his ‘Nesta smile’ takes over his face. And then his eyes start glancing toward her, and even with the distance, Nesta can see the way his gaze softens around the edges.

Even still, Cassian continues talking, continues recording as if nothing’s amiss. Nesta rolls her eyes fondly, but that merely has his smile growing. She always teases him when he does this, for the way he won’t re-record any of the videos and posts them regardless. When Nesta had taken a peek at his account and his videos, she’d seen plenty of comments asking what or, more particularly, who he was looking at.

When Cassian finishes, he reaches forward to stop his recording, turning to give Nesta his full attention. “Hey, Nes. Finally finish your book?”

“Yes. The ending was terrible.”

Cassian chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “I’m sure your followers will appreciate your honesty on that.”

Nesta shrugs noncommittally, but she knows he’s right. It’s how she built her following in the first place: completely honest and transparent book reviews. “Speaking of followers. I do need your help with a video, a BookTok trend. We can call it even from when you made me chase after you for that August video.”

“Hey, that Pheidippides joke was hilarious,” Cassian defends, standing up from his chair even as he shakes his head as though fondly remembering the video. “The Persians slipped away like a bottle of wine…”

Nesta snorts at the reminder of the caption he used, turning on her heel and leading the way back to her library. She grabs her phone from where she left it, taking the time to set it up so it has the perfect framing of the door. Once she’s happy with it, she presses record, curling her hand around Cassian’s wrist and tugging him into the shot.

“So the trend is to lean against the door frame like the men in books do.”

“Lean against the door frame?” Cassian asks, shifting until his shoulder presses against the door jamb.

“No, the top frame,” Nesta corrects, grabbing his wrist again and tugging his arm up to demonstrate.

Cassian readjusts his stance, settling his weight forward as he leans against his raised hand, and offers her a winning smile. “Like this, sweetheart?”

“Yes, but you’re not supposed to smile. It’s meant to be sultry,” Nesta explains, frowning at Cassian’s expression. “What is that face?”

“Blue steel.”

“That’s it. You fail,” Nesta laughs softly, turning to walk back toward her phone and stop the recording.

An arm snakes around Nesta’s waist, fingers curling and spinning her back around. She barely comes face to face with Cassian before he’s backing her up against the door jamb, caging her in with his large body. Her breath hitches in her chest at the way his hazel eyes have darkened, and she can’t look away, even when his arm tightens around her waist, arching her back and pulling her flush against him. His hand slides along her jaw, thumb skating across her bottom lip before he leans down and kisses her, Nesta sighing into his mouth.

“How’s that compare to the men in your books?” Cassian whispers when he pulls back.

Nesta is sure that she must be blushing, but she clears her throat and extricates herself from Cassian’s hold. She can practically feel Cassian’s smirk on her back as she walks back over to her phone and stops the recording, but she refuses to give him the satisfaction. Especially when she watches back the way she became flustered and then melted into him in 4k.

“Well, I can’t post this.”

“You should definitely post it,” Cassian murmurs, his voice closer than she expects, but then his arms are curling around her waist as he plasters himself to her back.

And maybe it’s the warmth of Cassian wrapped around her. Maybe it’s the peace and security she’s found in his arms. Maybe it’s the way this history nerd has made her feel happier and more loved than she ever thought possible. Maybe it’s the way his lips pressing a line along her neck is very distracting.

Whatever it is, Nesta finds herself trimming the video to remove the parts at the beginning and end where she started and stopped the recording. Finds herself quickly adding subtitles and typing out an easy caption of, ‘I guess he passes after all… #BookTokChallenge #BookBoyfriend.’ After all, she can always delete the video later if she really wants to.

She presses post and tosses her phone aside, turning around in Cassian’s arms and kissing him properly, more than happy to go stumbling down the hall to their bedroom in a tangle of limbs. And later, while Cassian makes them dinner, Nesta sits atop their kitchen island and decides to open TikTok again, unable to hold in a surprised laugh as she reads the top, most liked comment on her most recent video.

Is that the fucking HistoryTok dude????

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck

[find-roronoa-zoro]

Roronoa Zoro X CisFem Reader

31

"Dump me?" Zoro stood in the doorway.

The look on his face sent your gut straight through the floor.

"No, Tiger... You didn't come in at the right part of the conversation." your mouth was suddenly a desert.

"I'm not sure there was a right part of the conversation F/N." he crossed his arms, "Why is our relationship such a hot topic in the Newgate house?"

"We're just gonna..." Sabo trailed off as he scooted passed you dragging Marco with him.

"L-lets go to the den," you suggested, "I can explain."

He followed you to the next room, arms still crossed, a stern expression you'd never been the cause of plastered on his face.

"I was just nagging my brother's about the fact that they have no gray hair." you self-consciously ran your fingers over the braid draped over your left shoulder, "Marco, well, you know how he is..."

"I thought we were passed the age gap." he interrupted.

"W-we are.. I am - " you stammered surprised by his demeanor. 

That tone was new too.

It made you uneasy.

"How many times do I have to say it doesn't bother me? Who cares what other people say?" he remained still and guarded.

Your heart had begun to race - you inhaled deeply to try and catch your nervous breath.

"I - I know."

"I don't think you do know. Why can't you just take my word?" he scoffed, "I'm not a child, F/N."

"What?" you looked up at him with wide eyes, "I know that..."

"Then don't treat me like one!" his raised voice made you shrink, "You're supposed to tell me how you feel so I can help. How are we partners if you keep it to yourself?"

"Ok, that's fair." you raised your hands, "I know insecurities are bothersome."

"Who cares? I'm here to get you passed them, right?"

Oh man, you didn't deserve him at this moment.

The entire time you were upset about people staring and their judgment, Zoro was there too. He'd been there to prove them wrong while you let it eat you up.

He'd heard his fair share of sugar mama jokes and endured Marco's left handed remarks, but none of that mattered because at the end of the day you were there. You knew he worked hard for what he had and he didn't feel the need to prove it to anyone else. So, why were you so hung up on this?

"I'm sorry," you murmured stepping closer to him.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his messy hair, "I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean by that?" tears were already stinging the edges of your eyes.

"If this is going to continue to be an issue, I don't want to get any deeper than I already am." his chest felt like it was caving in.

It was completely silent for what felt like an eternity.

"Tiger -" your voice was barely a whisper.

"I... I think we need a break." his ears were ringing.

"No... No, please." it felt like your heart had just vanished while you struggled to speak through your tears.

He kissed your forehead and briskly stepped out of the room. He was completely unprepared for this conversation and to see you fall apart. It felt like his insides had just been sucked into a void.

What the fuck did he just do?

Sabo watched Zoro practically sprint out of the house. He turned down the hall hearing you sputter.

"What just happened?" the blonde asked entering the den to find you crying.

"Marco..." you whimpered covering your face, "please?"

The younger blonde turned swiftly into the hallway finally processing what was happening.

"Marco!" he shouted up the stairs on his way through the house, "F/N needs you in the den, now!"

Sabo didn't wait for a response as he continued outside. The screen door slammed against the door jamb while he halted seeing Zoro's truck already headed down the street.

"What the hell was that?" Ace questioned rounding the side of the house from the garage, "He was cursing and punched a dent into the side of his truck."

Sabo's green eyes swayed to his brother as he sighed, "I think he just broke up with F/N."

"Hey," Marco murmured calmly holding you on the sofa in the den, "try to take a breath. You'll pass out at this rate - yoi."

You leaned into his side and focused on taking a full breath through your sobs. Marco rubbed comforting circles over your back and shushed you gently. He hadn't seen you like this in a long time. The last six months were full of heartbreak, he hated that you had to work so hard to hold on to what good moments you were given. He also realized his roll in what had just taken place.

"I'm sorry, yoi."

You shook your head and looked up at him, "It's my fault. I-I was too in my head about it."

"I made it harder though," he sighed, "I just didn't want him to be in it for the wrong reasons, yoi."

This proved in the most unfortunate way that he wasn't.

Harping on the age difference provided unnecessary strain. Marco didn't want that for you.

"Is everything ok?" Sabo's voice drew your attention to the doorway where he stood with Ace holding a tray, "Here, we thought you might need these."

The boys crossed the room handing you a warm damp cloth to soothe your puffy eyes. There was also headache medicine and water. They knew you well, crying always made your head hurt.

"It's not ok," you sat up to accept what they'd brought, "but I'll figure it out."

"Why would he do that?" Sabo dropped down next to you while Ace took a seat on the floor.

"Yeah, you can't just dump someone because of one fight." your freckled brother added.

"It wasn't a fight really," you sniffled pressing the warm cloth to your eyes, "it was a major issue that I should have worked out but didn't."

Sabo sighed disappointed remembering your conversation back in December about dating younger than you. Your concern was that he wouldn't be able to handle it, and here you were not handling it.

"Should we talk to him?" Ace asked, "I mean he'll be around, he's Luffy's best friend."

"Nope, please just leave it. I don't know what to do, but I don't want any drama." you huffed having finally collected yourself as best you could.

Your head was fuzzy and throbbing and you couldn't really keep a realistic grasp on what was going on. The absolute love of your life just stormed out because you were being a child. Not your greatest moment, but you had to redeem yourself and fix it.

How?

________________

"Oh man, you're an idiot." the redhead chuckled flipping his shot glass over and waving the bar tender back over, "keep 'em coming."

The greenette next to him huffed and leaned on the bar resting his head in his palm.

"Shut up."

The bar tender placed two more shots down in front of them.

"Hey, it's alright. I mean I was stupid and dumped her too - a couple of times." Shanks held up the glass.

"I'm not like you." Zoro muttered ignoring the redhead's gesture and downing his bourbon.

Shanks scoffed, "Right, well doctor heart stealer will probably swoop back in - he's been waiting." he slapped a hand across Zoro's back annoyingly hard, " Ya had a good run kiddo."

"I gotta get out of here." the greenette stood to leave ignoring Shanks.

[angelasscribbles]

Unexpected Chapter 6: Liam

Series: Unexpected

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Maxwell

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warning: Lemons

Word Count: 2,477

A/N: I know it's been a few months since we've had a chapter of this and the previous chapters all focused on Max. Time to answer the question Max keeps asking, what has she been up to with Liam?

This is another submission for @choicesprompts Smutember 2023 Prompt event. Prompt: Slow and Sweet.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley glanced surreptitiously up and down the hall, ensuring no one was watching, before punching in the code to unlock the door to a room that wasn’t hers.

She slipped quietly inside, made sure the door shut, and locked it behind her, “You said you needed to see me?”

She had taken the time to change into something a little more comfortable and accessible. Now clad in a short skirt and billowy top with nothing underneath, she stepped up behind the man leaning on the door jamb of the open French doors leading to his private balcony. Her hands touched the back of his shoulders as his head turned to the side.

Covering one of her hands with his own he answered, “You came.”

“Of course, I came,” she leaned up and feathered soft kisses along the back of his neck, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He spun toward her with tears in his eyes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I? I don’t presume you just sit around waiting for my call.”

Her hands cupped his face, “I don’t sit around waiting for them, but I’m always hoping for one.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Liam, really. Now tell me what’s wrong.” She said as she led him to the bed and perched on the edge, patting the spot next to her.

“Nothing…everything….” He said hesitantly as he sat next to her, “It’s the anniversary of my mother’s death and no one but me seems to remember…” Tears started to slip unbidden down his face, streaking his cheeks as he struggled to hold all the pain inside.

“Oh, honey,” She reached for him and pulled him close, cradling his head into her bosom, “It’s okay to cry baby, let it out.”

He pulled on her blouse with both hands as he pressed his face against her chest and cried harder. She held him as his body shook with sobs. “I’ve never cried in front of anyone before,” he told her sheepishly when he finally pulled away from her, wiping the tears from his cheeks, “Not even Drake.”

“It’s because you trust me,” she murmured as she leaned forward and raked her fingers through his hair, “Please don’t apologize for it.”

“I do trust you, Riley,” his voice was practically a whisper as he reached for her free hand, “Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything sweet boy,” she crooned as she continued to play with his hair.

“I think I love you,” his grip tightened on hers.

She dropped her hand from his hair, “You think?”

His head jerked up to study her face, “I…I’ve never felt like this about anyone, Riley. I’ve never been in love before, but I can only describe what I feel for you as love. I think about you every waking moment and when I go to sleep, I dream about you. I’m sorry, that probably sounds crazy…” he turned his head away from her.

She stopped him, turning his head back to face her, “Don’t do that. Don’t turn away. Face your feelings, Liam. I know you’re a prince about to be a king, but you’re also a man and whoever made you feel ashamed of having feelings did you a great disservice.”

He studied her face for a moment before reaching out to caress her cheek, “I want you. I want to choose you but I’m afraid this life will break you, Riley. You’re too good, too sweet, you don’t understand-“

She leaned into him, her plump breasts pressing into his hard chest as she brought her lips to his ear. Her breath sent shivers cascading down his spine as she whispered, “I’m not as sweet and innocent as you think I am.”

His dick twitched at the implication, “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re not the only one putting on a show out there for the court. There are so many things we need to discuss my prince, but for right now, let me make you feel better.” Her fingers slowly trekked down his chest, unfastening each button as she went.

She could feel his body trembling as he reached a shaking hand out to stop her. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

She paused and stared up into his eyes, “Do you want me to stop?”

They stayed that way for a long moment, gazes locked, neither moving then he released his hold on her and shook his head.

A triumphant smile curved her lips up, “We can finish what we started in the hedge maze the other night.”

An involuntary groan escaped him at the memory. It had been the closest he’d ever come to having sex without actually having sex. He had wanted to take her right then and there on the cold, hard ground but propriety and his over-honed sense of honor had intervened.

She deserved better.           

But now she was in his room with him, sitting on his bed, her lips burning fire across his skin as her hands made short work of his clothing. He shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t give in to his most carnal desires. He was supposed to be giving each suitor a fair chance but deep in his heart he knew that possibility was long gone. There was no fairness in his feelings for her, no room for the consideration of another.

He was already lost. Already too far gone. Already hers. As she pushed him back on the bed, he understood that there was nothing he wouldn’t do with her, nothing he wouldn’t do for her, and certainly nothing he would deny her.

Once his shirt was gone, she pulled herself into his lap so that she could straddle him and began working on her own buttons. When she was done, she shrugged out of the blouse, smiling at the sharp intake of breath from Liam, “You can touch me if you want to.”

He lifted his eyes to hers slowly, desire and longing etched on every feature of his face. “Are you sure?”

She took his hand in hers and placed it on her breast, “I’m sure.”

“Fuck, Riley…” His eyes fluttered closed briefly as a shudder ran through him.

She leaned in and brushed her lips against his, softly, slowly. She ran her tongue across his bottom lip. He surged forward and captured her mouth with his own, his tongue gently probing, seeking entry. Her lips parted, granting it.

One hand kneaded the full breast in his palm as the other traced lines up and down the naked expanse of her back. Their tongues continued to roll and brush each other. She shifted ever so slightly, pressing herself into him with a delicious slowness, stoking his desire higher.

The unhurried deliberateness with which she caressed him stirred an urgency deep within him and he was suddenly seized with the need to touch every inch of her body as if he could memorize it with his fingertips. He broke the kiss, “Can I….could you lay down and let me just…touch you?”

She gazed down at him with tenderness before sliding off him, shimmying out of her skirt, and lying face down on the bed.

Liam scooted close to her, his fingers tracing languidly from just under her neck, tickling down her spine, running over the curve of her ass, and drifting down the smooth skin of her legs, over her heel to rub the arch of her foot. He worked his way back up and then down again, caressing the other leg as he went.

Riley’s body was suffused with equal parts melted relaxation and electric tingling. Heat burst into existence in her core, building and coiling as his lips took the place of her fingers. He kissed a trail of fire up her spine until his body was hovering over hers. With his lips brushing against her ear he murmured, “Turn over?”

She rolled onto her back and looked up into his face. The stark devotion she found in his eyes both took her aback and sent a thrill shooting through her. Her hands ran lovingly up the side of her face, ruffled through his hair then made their way across his shoulders and down his back as she reveled in the way he shivered under her touch.

He kissed her reverently on the lips before continuing his mission to touch every bit of her. He paused to flick his tongue around a pert nipple, sucking it between his lips and pulling it greedily into his mouth. He moved back and forth between them, giving them equal attention, Riley moaning softly as her hands tugged at his hair. He lingered there a while before finally continuing his downward trek. He veered from her stomach to lick and nip down the inside of one thigh then back up the other. Settling between her legs he looked up with imploring eyes, “Is this okay?”

“God, yes!” She bucked her hips up toward him, encouraging him.

The first light brush of his tongue across her center sent shockwaves of pleasure jolting through her. She cursed quietly as her head pressed into the pillow. Gripping his hair in her hand she lifted her body into his face.

He lapped slow strokes up and down her pussy before settling right over the clit as he inserted a finger into her. He curled his finger as his tongue drew circles around, over, and across her throbbing nub, her body bucking up into his mouth as he worked his tongue gradually faster and harder until stars burst behind her eyes and waves of ecstasy pulsed through her clit and exploded outward until her entire body was awash with sensation. He slowed his pace but continued to lick her through the orgasm, gradually decreasing pressure until she came completely back down.

“Liam, get your pants off, now!” she panted.

He slipped off the side of the bed and tore at the fastenings of his pants. Riley sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, so she was sitting with her legs open, one on either side of him. Grasping his hands in hers she smiled up at him, “Uh uh. Put your hands down. I’ll do it.” Her face held a teasing smile as she worked on the fastenings with excruciating slowness.

“Riley…” he breathed out as he watched her work, his fingers digging into his palms in an effort to keep his hands to himself.

She pulled his zipper down and cupped him through his underwear. A high-pitched whine spiraled out of him as she rubbed a thumb across the tip of his cock, straining against the already wet fabric. She brought her mouth closer and exhaled letting the warmth of her breath caress him.

His hands shot to her head, fingers tangling in her hair, “Fuck! Riley! Please!”

“Ummm,” she licked her lips as she tugged his clothing down, “You took your time with me. I’m returning the favor.”

When his cock sprang free, she leaned forward, hands on his ass propelling him closer, and buried it between her breasts. A shudder tore through Liam’s body as he pitched forward. He sank his face into her hair, his body trembling with anticipation.

She pushed him back so she could lower her mouth, licking a line from his base all the way up and running her tongue around the tip in a circle. She took him into her mouth, taking in as much as possible as she sucked and licked. His body strained toward her, his hands pressed her head down, and his hips moved carefully. Tension vibrated through him, the rigidity of his muscles giving away just how much restraint he was using to maintain the leisurely pace they had set.

She increased the suction and the tempo, and he twisted away from her, “Stop!”

“What’s wrong?” She ran her tongue over her lips with a sparkle in her eyes.

“Nothing is wrong,” he panted, “You’re a little too good at that and I want inside you!”

“Oh yeah?” She teased as she slid herself slightly back on the bed and opened her legs wider, “Come on then. Fuck me, Liam.”

All thoughts of propriety or concerns about other suitors were wiped from his brain as he darted forward, ready and eager to claim her. He took her by the legs and jerked her to the edge of the bed. Keeping his grip on her thigh with one hand, he took himself in the other and teased the tip slowly around her entrance before finally pushing himself carefully, inch by inch, inside her. When he was buried deep inside her, he stilled as a shudder ran through his body.

Eyes locked on her, his finger found her clit again as he began to move, pulling himself in and out of her. He kept his pace steady but slow as his finger flicked and twirled until he sent her spiraling over the edge again, her face flushed, eyes glazed, lips parted as her moans and whimpers filled the room.

Her walls clenched around him as a gush of wetness coated his cock. Her legs wrapped around his waist and tightened. A primal growl was ripped from him as he lost control and began to thrust into her with a frenzied pace, grunting as he slammed into her over and over again, his frustration from the edging pushing him close to tears as he pounded into her, her bare skin shimmering with sweat and her tits bouncing wildly. He cried out as he burst over the edge, exploding inside her, knees buckling as he slumped forward on top of her, face nuzzling into the side of her neck as he struggled to regain his breath.

Her legs unlocked as her arms went around him instead, fingers stroking his head and back tenderly, “We’re good together, Liam. It can always be like this if you just choose me.”

He lifted his head to search her face as if all the answers he would ever need were to be found there, “Stay with me tonight?”

“Why?” She challenged.

“Because I love you, Riley, and I’m through pretending to be considering anyone else.”

“Okay then. I’ll stay.” She curled a lock of his hair around a finger as she watched his face light up at her answer. A tidal wave of emotion swept through her as she returned his smile.

He brought out a side of her she hadn’t realized she possessed, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. A fierce protectiveness clawed its way to the surface, and she realized she wanted him. Not just the lifestyle he could give her, or the money and titles Bertrand had promised in exchange for a valid marriage contract, but him. Liam. The man. And that was an entirely unexpected wrinkle.

[azeez-unv]

WARNING TO INDIAN STUDENTS AND THEIR PARENTS: COMPUTER LITERACY IS NO LONGER OPTIONAL

The digital transformation of India’s education system is accelerating. From online entrance exams to digital classrooms, technology is now at the heart of academic life. Yet, a silent crisis is unfolding: many students are being left behind—not because they lack intelligence, but because they lack basic computer literacy.

🎵 Reality Check: Digital Illiteracy is Failing Our Students

Several reports from online examination centers, including NEET, JEE, CUET, and various state-level exams, are painting a worrying picture:

1.Students unable to log in because they didn’t know how to use capital letters on a keyboard.

2.Inability to navigate between questions or subjects.

3.Struggling to select the correct answer or failing to click 'Submit' at the end.

4.Confusion while using basic tools like the on-screen calculator or mouse.

5.One student, who thought he attempted all 100 questions, had only attempted 5—because he didn’t know how to operate the interface properly!

These aren’t rare incidents—they are happening across exam centers nationwide, particularly affecting students in rural and low-income communities.

🎵 Smartphones ≠ Computer Skills

Many teenagers today are active on Instagram, WhatsApp, or YouTube but are completely lost when faced with a keyboard, mouse, or examination software. Scrolling through reels and playing mobile games does not equal digital competence.

🎵 And Here’s the Bigger News:

Just like JAMB in Nigeria, Indian boards and universities are steadily moving toward Computer-Based Testing (CBT). Already:

CUET-UG & CUET-PG are fully CBT.

NET, GATE, and many banking and SSC exams are CBT.

Some state boards and private schools are piloting online assessments.

And it won’t stop there.

If action is not taken now, thousands of deserving students will continue to fail—not due to lack of knowledge—but because they didn’t know how to click the right button.

🎵 WHAT MUST BE DONE

▪️Schools

Especially in rural and government sectors, must urgently start Digital Literacy Programs for students of Class 9–12. Basic training in keyboard use, mouse handling, exam simulation, and internet safety must be integrated into regular curriculum.

▪️Parents

Please go beyond buying smartphones. Enroll your children in basic computer training at local centers or community colleges. If possible, invest in a desktop or laptop at home for regular practice.

▪️Teachers and Educators

Organize mock CBT sessions, walk-throughs of common exam platforms (like TCS iON), and include digital readiness as part of internal assessments.

▪️Community and Religious Organizations

Launch free ICT boot camps, digital coaching sessions, or sponsor computer labs in under-resourced schools.

🎵THIS IS ABOUT MORE THAN EXAMS

It’s about future employability, global competitiveness, and equal opportunity in a rapidly digitizing world.

Let the wise guide their children:

👉 A student who cannot click will be left behind.

👉 A generation that clicks confidently will lead the future.

Let’s act today. The digital clock is ticking.

[khushiiiklick]

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Read Here: Examgod

[radfuryfest]

Guaranteed Best Results With 2024 WAEC Expo and Runz

The West African Examination Council, WAEC has confirmed plans to make the 2019 WASSCE for private candidates fully computer based. This is in line with global best practices. 2024 waec expo

It will also give the council the opportunity to improve the quality of the examination and ensure that candidates are assessed fairly. The move will also reduce the time spent by examiners on marking paper and printing results which is expected to increase the accuracy of the result.

WAEC is one of the most important exams in Nigeria. It’s required for people who want to further their education and have a great chance of getting a good job in the future. It’s therefore essential to pass this exam with a high score. This is why we offer a variety of WAEC Expo and Runz to help you achieve your goal. We provide the best quality answers and a guaranteed pass. Our team of experts is here to ensure you get the best grades in your exams.

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We guarantee that we will provide you with the best quality WAEC questions and answers. Our team of professionals is always working hard to make sure you get the best results. Our services are affordable and convenient, so you can count on us for your next exam.

JAMB questions and answers are often very difficult, but it is possible to guess them. This can be done by studying hard and using past questions and answers to practice. It’s also important to stay calm and not let your emotions affect you during the test. If you’re nervous, try to relax and remember that you’ll be fine.

If you’re planning on taking the JAMB exam this year, it’s important to prepare for it in advance. This will help you pass the exam and get into the university of your choice. The first step in preparing for the JAMB exam is to study. Ensure that you understand the topic and read all the questions. It’s also a good idea to write down key points and facts.

Another way to prepare for the JAMB exam is to use a study guide. These guides are available online and at many bookstores. They will help you understand the exam and help you make important decisions during the test. They can also help you avoid common mistakes that students often make. Using a study guide can help you score higher on your JAMB exam.

[examscholars]

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ExamScholars JAMB CBT APP is currently the best JAMB practice app you can find out there as a student preparing for UTME exams.

As a student, you want a JAMB APP that gives you exactly same interface as the JAMB UTME CBT Exam, with JAMB past questions and answers with detailed explanation, has practice by topic or by year, does not expire and works offline.

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#jamb #jambcbt #jambcbtapp #jambcbtsoftware #jamppracticeapp #utme #cbtapp #jambmock #jambexam #exam #examscholars

[nobsvibe]

How to Recover Your JAMB Profile Code 2024/2025: A Comprehensive Guide

How to Recover Your JAMB Profile Code 2024/2025: A Comprehensive Guide The profile code is pivotal in Joint Admissions and Matriculations Board (JAMB) registrations. This article will delve into the nuances of JAMB profile codes, their significance, and the essential steps for code recovery. - Brief Overview of JAMB Profile Code The JAMB profile code is a unique identifier for candidates undergoing JAMB registration. It streamlines the process, ensuring a smooth and personalized experience. - Importance of the Profile Code in JAMB Registration Without the profile code, the entire JAMB registration process grinds to a halt. It's the key to unlocking a student's JAMB journey, making its recovery crucial for those encountering issues. - Common Issues with JAMB Profile Code - Forgotten Profile Code - Impact on JAMB Registration Forgetting the profile code can be a stumbling block in the JAMB registration process, leading to delays and potential setbacks. - Reasons for Forgetting the Code Various factors contribute to code amnesia, ranging from simple oversight to the complexity of the registration process. - Error Messages During Code Recovery - Analysis of Common Error Messages Understanding the error messages during recovery attempts is crucial for effective troubleshooting. - Troubleshooting Tips This section provides insights into overcoming common hurdles encountered during the recovery process. - How to Recover JAMB Profile Code - Option 1: SMS Recovery - Step-by-Step Guide To initiate SMS recovery, follow these straightforward steps provided by JAMB. - Tips for Successful Recovery Boost your chances of successful code retrieval with these practical tips. - Option 2: Email Recovery - Step-by-Step Guide For those who prefer email recovery, here's a step-by-step guide to guide you through the process. - Importance of Accurate Email Information Ensuring the accuracy of your registered email is pivotal for a seamless recovery experience. - Option 3: Direct JAMB Website Recovery - Navigating the JAMB Portal Direct recovery on the JAMB website is a viable option for tech-savvy individuals. Here's how to navigate the portal. - Additional Security Measures Enhance the security of your recovery process with these additional measures recommended by JAMB. - Preventive Measures for Future Code Retrieval - Creating Memorable Codes - Tips for a Secure Yet Memorable Code Strike a balance between security and memorability with these practical tips for creating your profile code. - Importance of Regular Code Checkups Regularly checking and updating your profile code ensures its accessibility when needed. - Storing Codes Securely - Digital Storage Methods Explore digital storage options to safeguard your profile code against loss or theft. - Importance of Backup Options Implementing backup strategies adds an extra layer of protection to your JAMB profile code. - Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) - What to Do If SMS Recovery Fails? If SMS recovery fails, explore alternative options provided by JAMB or contact their support for assistance. - Can I Change My JAMB Profile Code? No, JAMB does not permit the changing of profile codes. Ensure careful consideration during the initial creation. - Is There a Time Limit for Code Recovery? JAMB typically doesn't impose a strict time limit for code recovery, but prompt action is recommended. - How Often Should I Update My Profile Code? Regularly update your profile code, especially if there are security concerns or changes in personal information. - What If I No Longer Have Access to the Registered Email? Contact JAMB support immediately for guidance on updating your email information. Conclusion In conclusion, the JAMB profile code is a crucial aspect of the registration process, and knowing how to recover it is paramount. Candidates can easily navigate the JAMB landscape by understanding common issues, following recovery steps, and implementing preventive measures. FAQs - Q: What to do if SMS recovery fails? A: If SMS recovery fails, explore alternative options provided by JAMB or contact their support for assistance. - Q: Can I change my JAMB profile code? A: No, JAMB does not permit the changing of profile codes. Ensure careful consideration during the initial creation. - Q: Is there a time limit for code recovery? A: JAMB typically doesn't impose a strict time limit for code recovery, but prompt action is recommended. - Q: How often should I update my profile code? A: Regularly update your profile code, especially if there are security concerns or changes in personal information. - Q: What if I no longer have access to the registered email? A: Contact JAMB support immediately for guidance on updating your email information. Now that we've covered the essential steps for recovering your JAMB profile code let's delve deeper into the intricacies of each recovery method and shed light on additional tips to ensure a smooth retrieval process. - How to Recover JAMB Profile Code (Continued) - Option 1: SMS Recovery - Step-by-Step Guide Initiating SMS recovery involves sending a predefined text message to a specified number. Ensure your mobile device has sufficient credit and follow these steps: - Compose a new text message: Type "RESEND" in capital letters. - Please send to the designated number: Send the message to the official JAMB shortcode (provided on their website). - Wait for the response: You should receive a new profile code shortly. - Tips for Successful Recovery - Check your credit balance: Ensure that you have enough credit to send the SMS. - Correct format: Type the message exactly as instructed by JAMB. - Stable network connection: A stable network ensures prompt delivery of the recovery message. - Option 2: Email Recovery - Step-by-Step Guide Email recovery offers an alternative route for those with registered email addresses. Here's a step-by-step guide: - Visit the JAMB official website: Log in using your JAMB profile credentials. - Navigate to the recovery section: Look for the "Profile Code Recovery" option. - Enter your registered email: Provide the email associated with your JAMB profile. - Follow the prompts: JAMB will guide you through the recovery process via email. - Importance of Accurate Email Information Ensuring the accuracy of your registered email is crucial. An incorrect email will hinder the recovery process, leading to unnecessary delays. - Option 3: Direct JAMB Website Recovery - Navigating the JAMB Portal Direct recovery on the JAMB website is an excellent option for those comfortable with online platforms. Follow these steps: - Access the official JAMB website: Visit the portal and log in. - Navigate to the recovery section: Look for the "Profile Code Recovery" option. - Verify your identity: JAMB may prompt you to answer security questions or provide additional information. - Additional Security Measures To enhance the security of your recovery process: - Use secure devices: Ensure you're using a trusted device for recovery. - Update passwords: Regularly update your JAMB profile password for added security. - Preventive Measures for Future Code Retrieval (Continued) - Creating Memorable Codes - Tips for a Secure Yet Memorable Code - Avoid easily guessable codes: Steer clear of birthdays or common number sequences. - Create associations: Form a memorable phrase or association to aid recall. - Importance of Regular Code Checkups Regularly checking your profile code ensures it remains fresh in your memory. Schedule periodic checks to avoid surprises during registration. - Storing Codes Securely (Continued) - Digital Storage Methods Explore secure digital storage options: - Password-protected notes: Utilize encrypted note-taking apps with password protection. - Cloud storage with encryption: Use cloud services that offer end-to-end encryption. - Importance of Backup Options Always have a backup plan: - Physical backup: Consider noting down your code in a secure physical location. - Alternative digital backup: Maintain a backup copy in a different digital format for accessibility. In the ever-evolving landscape of JAMB registrations, staying proactive with recovery methods and preventive measures is critical to a hassle-free experience.   Read the full article

[currentinfo]

How To Pass JAMB 2023/2024 Examination | Preparation Guide

How To Pass JAMB 2023/2024 Examination | Preparation Guide

Are you preparing for the JAMB 2023/2024 examination? If so, this blog post is for you. As the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) exam approaches, it’s important to have a study plan in place so that you can be confident when taking the exam. In this post, we will provide an overview of what you need to do in order to pass the JAMB 2023/2024 examination. We will cover topics such as…

[dartlekey]

He finds Steve exactly where Nancy told him he would, sitting against the far wall of the bathroom with his head tipped back against the tile. What Nancy failed to anticipate was the blotchy redness of his face, and the tear-tracks staining his strong jaw. 

"Shit, dude," Eddie says, and Steve jumps a bit, but then just sinks farther down the wall, like he's too tired to even hide his misery. "Ah. Wrong bathroom, buddy."

Eddie barks a startled laugh despite himself. "Oh, man. Give me a second, I'll get us some privacy."

He backs out of the bathroom and opens the janitor's closet set diagonally across the hallway - it's supposed to be locked, but it never is, because Mr. Simmons is old and has bad hands and what are the kids gonna do anyway, steal a mop? 

With practiced certainty, Eddie reaches into the dark space and unhooks a stand-up sign from the wall - OUT OF ORDER - pulls it out and kicks the door closed behind him. In the meantime, Steve has apparently managed to get off the floor, because he's cracked the bathroom door open and is leaning on the door jamb, curiously watching Eddie set up the sign. 

"You've done this before?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "It's not just the popular kids that did this, Steve. Everybody with a bit of brains and a wish for privacy knows to grab the thing, and set it up at an angle so the other kids will know. I bet it's muscle memory for you at this point, with how many girls you used to drag off to -"

His sentence skids to a halt when he sees Steve's expression. “You… didn’t know?”

Steve’s face darkens. “Like you said, only the people with a bit of brains do. And as I keep being told -” he straightens up and moves back into the bathroom, “I’m not part of that group.”

He pulls the door shut behind him, which in his head probably made for a very suave ending to the conversation, but as Eddie already thinks Steve is uncool as shit he doesn’t mind swinging the door right back open and stalking after him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Hey, hey , I’m not done, who the hell said that to you? Do I need to punch somebody?”

Steve looks startled, but manages a snort. “You, with those noodle arms? Against my dad? Good fucking luck, I’m not paying for the hospital bill.”

Eddie stares - and Eddie is very good at staring, has practically turned it into an art form. His stares make people question their own sanity, which in this situation Eddie finds fully justified, because - “Your dad called you unintelligent?” 

Read Ch. 3 of "It don't bite (Yes it do)" on ao3

[justwritedreams]

Fly away with me | Haechan

Haechan x reader, dancer!au

Word count: 2001 Genre: fluff Author: maari Warnings: bad attempt to describe dance, a little suggestive i think. Summary: You'll have Haechan's help to complete your choreography. There's only one problem, the crush you have on him.

You took another deep breath and scratched the back of your head as you looked at the floor. You were in that room for hours looking at your reflection in the mirror while dancing but nothing seemed to fit, for days the movements didn't stop projecting in your head but you couldn't find a way to put them into practice. And you only had two weeks to finish, with the recent stress you were going through, all you asked for was a light. "Are you still here?" you quickly turned towards the voice and watched the boy leaning against the door jamb. "Haechan, what are you doing here?" you asked, putting your hands on your hips watching him approach. "I hear you're having trouble executing your choreography." shrugged and you crossed your arms. "Who told you?" "Renjun, he said you're getting too tired." You sighed. Of course, the worried angel Renjun would tell the first person that you were stressing yourself more than you should. Not that he was wrong, you were exaggerating yes but it wasn't like you could stop. That project could derail your plans to graduate if it wasn't completed on time. Renjun was your best friend and Haechan's friend, who was a senior in college and had a dance group that performed on the sly at the Resonance club, of course he would tell him that you needed help with a choreography. If there was anyone on that campus who could help you, it was Haechan. "It's not my fault! I need to put together a choreography by next week and I just can't do it." you said, frustrated, rubbing your eyes. You were tired, not physically but psychologically. "And why didn't you ask for my help?" That was a great question. Haechan and you were friends, not best friends because he had already made it clear that he didn't want to be just that, some flirting had already happened and you did have a crush on him, the size of Mount Everest. But Haechan was popular in college, because he was a great dancer, and from the group, you knew he was even more busy after auditions to find more members that would make the group compete in regionals. That made him unreachable from your point of view, he wouldn't have time to help you. And because maybe you were too embarrassed to ask him for something without looking like a silly teenager in love. What you weren't! "I didn't mean to bother you." you answered sincerely and shrugged. Haechan looked at you seriously and entered the room, taking off the coat he was wearing, you had to control your shocked face. I mean, it would be too embarrassing if a drool to drip out of your mouth while he was doing the bare minimum. But even though he was dressed all in black, with a simple shirt and comfortable sweatpants, he managed to be extremely handsome. "What song did you choose?" he asked, and you saw he wasn't going to leave until he helped you. So you gave in. It wasn't like you could refuse his help. "That's where the problem is." you complained, going over to your backpack to throw in the corner and picking up your water bottle, taking a long drink before continuing. "The song I chose doesn't match the choreography I designed, it feels like my head is split in two." you went back to where you were, seeing him nod his head as he listened to you. "Why don't you dance to one of our songs? How about Focus?" he suggested and you frowned. In addition to dance competitors, nct was also known for producers and great singers and rappers. Taeyong owned the studio and the songs were shown to the public at the club's performances. "I couldn't get over Johnny's solo." Johnny's super sexy solo that no dancer and club goer had yet topped. The guy was the talk of your class for two weeks straight, it wasn't like you could get the song out of his ripped, exposed abs. Which meant no, Focus wasn't ideal for your choreography. "I think your hips would look good in this song." Haechan smiled and you couldn't control your mouth opening in a perfect O. Speechless, your reaction was to throw the water bottle towards him, who dodged the object laughing the way he did when he was always flirting with you. "I don't have

time for this, Haechan." you pointed your finger at him and he raised his hands in surrender. "So Baby don't like it?" suggested again and you felt your face burn at the mere mention. You loved nct's songs, whether they were upbeat or even those that were deeply sad, you were a fan of all their work whatever they were. The only problem was the crush you had on Haechan. And the fact that you personally watched the performance of this song didn't help either. You still dreamed every night of the movement of Haechan's hip and neck. "Come on, doll, I can't help you if you don't help me." he spoke and you sighed. He was right. "Dance what you already have planned, so we can speak the same language." You agreed, feeling the anxiety take over your body before you even started, but your desperate student side ignored the feelings you had for the boy for a while and focused on showing what you had created so far. The arms and hips in perfect sync trying to bring out the best of contemporary dance, the genre you had chosen for that project and one of your favorites, but of course with a unique touch of yours that was requested by the teacher. You ended up a little uncertain and turned to face Haechan, he was looking at you seriously and had an analytical expression you'd never seen before. You ignored the fact that your stupid mind realized how handsome he was even then. "Your project is a solo." spoke while looking at a fixed point. "Yeah." "That's the problem. The moves ask to be in pairs." he looked back at you and your shoulders sagged. “Aren't you supposed to help me?” you asked in a squeaky voice, in disbelief. How would you find a partner to train a choreography that wasn't even ready in two weeks? Haechan smiled and approached you, taking his phone out of his pants pocket. "I'm officially offering to be your partner." he replied still with a smile on his face and you looked at him suspiciously. “And I think I know the perfect song for that.” Haechan connected the phone to the speaker that was in the room and searched for what he wanted until a familiar melody began to fill the room. He came closer and you smiled, not because of his presence but because of the chosen music. Well, maybe because of both. Fly away with me, one of your favorite songs was playing and you could already feel your body being taken over by the melody. How had you not thought of that from the beginning? "May I?" asked as he stared at you steadily and you just nodded, letting him lead you and give your opinion on the choreography. You listened intently and without taking your eyes off him, always reminding yourself to focus on the dance and not the dancer. For the next hour you were serious, both of you being professionals. Haechan listened to your side of how you wanted the choreography to be and you took his suggestions on executing each move and he impressed you with how knowledgeable he was, and how unique. All the placements and suggestions about the dance were right, lighting up your head so that you could finally project what was in your head. An intimate dance, that's how it could be defined. That was probably the closest you'd ever been to Haechan, his big hands at your back or hips to steady you, his breath heavy on the back of your neck. He would accompany you and complete the movements with subtlety and precision, you had already seen him dance several times but having him as a partner was very different. Sometimes you faced each other when the choreography allowed it and you couldn't control the butterflies in your stomach, Haechan had a serious look and a twinkle in his eyes. At one point in the dance, Haechan gently and slowly caressed your face with his hand and you felt the whole place tingle, and your palms sweated. For a moment it looked like he was going to kiss you. "Did you think of anything for the end?" He asked out of the blue and you blinked a few times. What? "I don't…" damn, you didn't want to stutter in front of him and demonstrate how much it had messed with your body. "Put your leg here." tapped his hip and you looked

at him confused. "What?" Your voice came out louder than it should have and he laughed proudly. "Your left leg, lift up to my hip. You pull your torso back and I hold you." he explained slowly and you took a step back. Wait a moment… If your leg went up to his hip, you would be close. Very close. It would be impossible to disguise certain reactions. "You won't be able to hold me, Haechan." you laughed in disbelief. "If it was Jeno, fine but-" "Are you calling me weak?" he interrupted, looking offended. "Compared to Jeno?" you returned the question without actually answering. Haechan poked his cheek with his tongue and you knew he felt annoyed. Then in the blink of an eye Haechan took a step towards you, placed one hand at the base of your spine and the other lifted your leg to his hip, automatically your torso went back and Haechan held you tight. Your head fell back and closed your eyes as you felt the heat of his body so close, in a way you never had before. It was as if everything was being touched by him, being set on fire by him. The hand that held your thigh gave a light squeeze and he pulled you back, your hands went to his biceps, faces so close that noses touched and eyes met. It looked like it wasn't just your body that was covered in fire, his dark eyes too. You hadn't realized you'd held your breath until you let it out slowly against Haechan's face and he fixed his gaze on your lips, he looked at you with such desire that you just swallowed hard. The hand that was on your spine went around your waist and Haechan took your lips, taking you by surprise but making you close your eyes as you felt his hot breath. His lips moved quickly but precisely, just like the choreography, and you gripped his arm tightly as the tongues met and turned the kiss into a much more sensual rhythm. Unconsciously, you tried to hug his waist even tighter with your thigh and suddenly the whole place felt so much hotter as Haechan growled against your lips. He pulled away and you managed to take a deep breath, until you felt him move his wet kisses down to your neck. You were ready to give in for good, but he suddenly stopped. "Call me weak now, doll." He answered close to your ear and laughed lightly when he saw you without reaction. "You love doing this, don't you?" you complained, making a move to lower your leg, but Haechan kept it there, his hand rising and falling teasingly. You looked at him confused and he smiled widely. "I didn't say we were going to stop practicing." You looked at him sideways, raising your eyebrow. "And I'm talking about dancing, naughty girl." "Haechan!" you smacked him on the arm, causing him to laugh echoing throughout the room. "Or maybe not."

[wellpresseddaisy]

Long Ago (and far away)

Part 1

Severus added several comments to a first year Ravenclaw's essay--supposedly twelve inches on the effects of ingredient preparation in potions--striking out the additional eight inches he hadn't asked for, and waved a hand negligently at the soft knock on his office door. Generally, no one came to his office hours but seventh years and they knew to enter when the door swung open. He looked up to see Granger hovering in his doorway.

"No," he waved his hand again, intent on slamming the door in her face.

Granger shoved her overfilled bag between the door and jamb before the door slammed. 

"You can take as many points as you like, Professor, but I'm not leaving until you listen to me."

"If this is about your last essay, Miss Granger--" he started, sighing.

"I don't care about that, sir." She barely avoided stomping into his office and sat heavily in the chair across from his desk, dumping her bag on the floor.

Severus stared. He'd never thought he'd ever hear that from the scholastically obsessed child.

"Headmaster Dumbledoor is ignoring my owls and Professor McGonagal is always busy and I heard a couple of Slytherin first years saying that you would actually do something and--"

She practically quivered with determination, hair roughly three times its usual size. He wondered if...no, remain on topic.

"Explain the issue at hand, Miss Granger, concisely." He rubbed his forehead, a headache definitely forming.

"There's a student in Gryffindor who only goes home at the end of the year and never receives anything, except for 50 pence at Christmas attached to a note telling them to stay for Easter hols, too, and to see if they can stay over the summer. Their clothing is in terrible shape and is at least three sizes too big, and their shoes are out at the soles. They came in very small for their age, oddly so, with some bruises...they didn't know anyone saw...and they came back this year even thinner. And they're not a picky eater, at all, sir. I'm worried, especially when they said their family would be happy if they could manage to die when they were badly injured." Granger stopped, swallowing hard.

One or two items from her list would be mildly concerning, but taken in aggregate…and damn Dumbledore and Minerva for ignoring a student's concerns. Again. Mostly because it meant he had to be civil to the puffed up little twit.

"Who, Miss Granger?"

"It's Harry, sir." She lifted her chin and gave him a Look that wouldn't be out of place in a Pureblood family's drawing room. "And I know you don't like him, but I'm coming to you as a student with sincere concerns over another student's home life."

And how Miss Granger had learned those sorts of looks and mannerisms was a question for another day. Of course it was bloody Potter.

"Is there anything concrete, Miss Granger? Aside from your little observations?"

"The Weasley twins and Ron went to get him as he hadn't answered any letters and they were worried. There were bars on his window, five or six locks on the outside of his door, and a cat flap at the bottom. His school things were all locked in the cupboard under the stairs and...they had to break him out, sir. His uncle tried to drag him back through the window, yelling about how he wasn't going back to that freak school. And they'd locked up his owl, as well, not that she could have got through the bars."

"Was there, perchance, a flying car involved in this escapade?" He couldn't help the question.

"I'm sure I couldn't say one way or the other, sir."

The nerve of the chit. 

"Harry said his Aunt Petunia would be livid about her flower beds and he knew what he'd be doing next summer."

Severus left off rubbing his forehead and glared at her so suddenly she squeaked.

"Did you say his Aunt Petunia?" Surely Dumbledore wouldn't have...he had more sense than that, surely.

"Yes, sir."

Did Lily have a great aunt Petunia somewhere? Flower names were a family mania. She had to...Dumbledore wouldn't have...he couldn't have.

"He said his mother's sister, once, sir, if that helps in narrowing it down."

Was she cheeking him?

"Thank you, Miss Granger. I will bring this to the Headmaster and take the appropriate next steps." He had to concede the need. 

"If an adult perspective would help, sir, Mrs. Weasley might have noticed something. The twins said he went from looking starved to half-starved while he was with them. He came back with practically an entire wardrobe of jumpers Mrs. Weasley knitted." 

Her mouth twisted and Severus nearly jumped from his seat. He would listen to her, but no one could force him to dry her tears. He went to the door and opened it, mostly for the distance.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. I will make some inquiries." There, a clear dismissal. She could go and weep elsewhere.

He had a momentary and unflattering thought that he never got to wail over the injustices of his life. Like being compelled to speak to the Weasley matriarch, who fussed over everything.

And who still, possibly, hadn't forgiven him for the advice he'd given her twin terrors on stabilizing certain brews.

[five-rivers]

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks came up with this op!Danny/Marvel AU!

BTW I need help naming this newest proof that I can't keep anything to a short little one-shot.

.

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man. For that matter, whether or not he’d ever been a good boy was debatable. His mother would argue that he had, but she would very likely be the only one. Well, except for Thor, perhaps, but that was because he was an idiot who could drown in three inches of nostalgia. Like he didn’t remember every time Loki had humiliated him. Maybe he didn’t, for all that he kept falling for the same trick over and over again.

It made Loki’s late nights studying the arts of illusion, misdirection, and lying seem redundant. Almost. Not everyone was as dense as his big brother.

No. Loki had never been a good man. He had, however, been a free man.

Free to run or hide. Free to explore the nooks and crannies of Asgard, to uncover her secrets in ways few cared to do. Free to walk hidden paths between the Nine Realms and even farther flung territories, where his people did not and had never ruled, to play games, make deals, have adventures, take risks. To be. To exist as his own creature.

He had been free. He had.

But on one of those little secret excursions, he had discovered something that had made even his flippant, slippery heart clench with fear. A ravening plague, spreading across the stars. The death of half of everything on the horizon.

Loki was not a good man. What cause did he have to care for all the sundry others in the universe? There were too many. It was too much to ask.

But Asgard—His home, even though the had long ago realized the blood in his veins originated on very different soil. That was different.

Asgard, he could help. Asgard could survive.

But it had to be strong. It had to have strong allies. None of this barely-held peace, this enemy eternally at their gates. It needed strong leadership. Not his brother’s simplistic view and longing for the glory of war.

Loki was not a good man. But he was one who could get things done.

Before he knew it, he had burned all his bridges behind him. In one case, a literal bridge that was literally broken.

And he fell.

And he fell.

And he fell right into the hands of the one he had feared enough to do this. Broken enough for poison to drip into the cracks. No one knew where he was, no one could know where he was, except, perhaps, Heimdal, and Loki sincerely doubted Heimdal cared. No one was coming for him. No one was looking for him. No rescue was forthcoming.

He was alone.

Asgardians were considered gods for a reason. Their bodies and minds were much more resilient than the average mortal’s. But Thanos’s people had been titans, and there was a reason for that, too.

Thanos enjoyed breaking him.

And Loki turned his lies on himself. A skilled master of games always had one gifted opponent, even alone. Hadn’t he wanted to rule? To command? To see a world, any world, prostrate at his feet? To be given the recognition and praise of which he was so worth?

To pull something, anything, out of the fire?

(If he had spent less time learning how to spin lies and more on how to see the truth, he might not have believed it. A better, wiser, man would have. But Loki was not a good man. And he was very skilled in his craft.)

So, his new master put a weapon in his hands, and he went off to conquer a world.

.

Danny was used to rude awakenings. He was used to those rude awakenings being full body chills and ghosts, not someone knocking on his door.

Blearily, he pulled himself out from under the blankets. Quasi-military government facility or not, the beds were comfortable. Maybe Mom or Dad had gotten themselves locked out of their room? Or Jazz—No, not Jazz, she hadn’t come with them. She was at college, not being flown places by Mom and Dad’s suspiciously generous new consulting job.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

He stood on tiptoe (curse his perpetually short body) to peer out the peephole. His parents’ buff, one-eyed, and incredibly imposing new boss stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, slightly sweeping back his long dark coat. If Danny listened carefully, he could hear two other people near the door, and… was that an alarm? Yes. Faint, but present, was a warning klaxon.

Okay. Danny would bet his right arm that something had gone horribly wrong with whatever his parents were consulting on. Didn’t explain why the boss was in front of his door.

Unless they’d gotten the rooms mixed up, somehow?

Ugh. Danny wasn’t paid enough to deal with this.

He opened the door. “What-?”

“Phantom,” intoned eyepatch guy with great solemnity.

Danny immediately tried to close the door. The guy stuck his foot in the jamb, and, sure, Danny could have crushed it, but that would be a jerk move. He didn’t think this guy was going for a pirate look, after all.

“We need your help.”

.

“I’m not sure what you think I can help you with,” yelled Danny over the beating of the helicopter blades. He’d remained stubbornly in human form. “My parents are the scientists. This sounds like a science thing. Not a punching-people thing.”

“We spoke to them earlier,” said Fury, “and we have plenty of scientists working on the theories they brought up. You’re the one with practical experience.”

“Practical experience in what?”

“Interdimensional portals,” said the woman, who had yet to introduce herself.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already giving him a bad feeling. “My parents built an interdimensional portal. Again, you should be talking to them. They’re the ones you’re paying.”

“We could pay you, too,” said Fury, “but we assumed you would want to avoid letting your parents know about this, as you’re still a minor and they have control of your bank accounts.”

Danny stared flatly. “This is blackmail.”

“We aren’t threatening you,” pointed out the woman.

“Emotional blackmail,” said Danny, glaring, daring her to challenge him on whether or not he actually knew what blackmail was.

In the meantime, the helicopter landed. Danny unbuckled and hopped out, trailing slightly awkwardly behind Fury and the woman. He didn’t want to stand out, but he suspected that, being the only kid here and being in the general vicinity of Fury, who radiated authority, that was a lost cause.

“This is Agent Coulson. Coulson, this is Phantom.”

Danny’s mouth went dry(er) at how casual the introduction was. His eyes went nervously to all the other people running around the field. With all the noise, it was unlikely anyone had heard, but still…

“Can you not? Secret identity and all? Unless you’ve told everyone herealready, which, rude.”

Fury sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked Coulson.

“We’re not sure,” said Coulson. “That’s the problem. Big fan of your work, by the way,” he added as an aside to Danny. He glanced at the woman. “Agent Hill.”

“Background?” asked Fury as he led the way into the building.

“The first energy surge was four hours ago. Dr. Selvig’s equipment picked it up – He’s the head scientist on this project.”

“Dr. Selvig isn’t authorized to test,” said Fury. “We wanted to run his plans by the Fentons.”

“He wasn’t testing. He wasn’t even in the room. He called it ‘spontaneous advancement.’”

“It turned itself on?”

“What are the energy levels?” asked Fury before Hill’s question could be answered.

“Climbing,” said Coulson.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Fury, “any comments?”

“Look, I don’t even know what this thing that you built looks like or what it’s a door to.” Danny frowned as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not expecting me to fight whatever comes out of it, are you? Because, unless you’ve got a ghost portal down there, I can’t make guarantees.”

“It’s called the Tesseract,” said Coulson. “It’s supposed to be a connection to the other side of space. A source of unlimited energy. At least,” there was a note of humor in his voice despite the evacuation taking place around them, “that’s what the scientists say.”

“A door to space?” asked Danny, firmly shoving down his excitement at the prospect. “Like, a Stargate?” It was no good, he could practically feel himself sparkling. He took a firm grip of his core and reminded himself he might need to fight before the end of the day.

“Well, no,” said Coulson. “It’s this little… cube… thing.” He made a shape with his hands.

“Oh,” said Danny, mind still whirring. “You know, if it’s really a tesseract, it isn’t a cube in just three dimensions, so bigger things could come out of it than you’d think.” He’d seen some weird portals in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, right now, we’re just getting energy.” They entered a large room with an extremely sci-fi setup. It looked like they were planning to shoot some kind of laser across the room onto a platform surrounded by strange-looking panels. There were men with guns scattered around in what was probably a well thought out formation Danny couldn’t see. There was also a dude with a bow sitting up in the rafters. He frowned down at Danny as he noticed Danny noticing him.

“Dr. Selvig!”

“Director!”

“What do we know?”

Danny allowed himself to be distracted by the centerpiece of the room, a piece of machinery built around what was indeed a little cube thing. He tilted his head and approached, trying to get a better view of it around the people in lab coats and protective gear currently swarming it. He caught mention of radiation a grimaced.

It was unlikely to kill him, but, really, everyone here should probably be wearing more PPE. You never knew what was going to come out of an interdimensional portal, after all. Except trouble. Trouble was a pretty safe bet.

It was pretty. Blue. Reminded him a little of a blue raspberry ice pop. Part of him wanted to lick it. Which was stupid. He didn’t want to wind up half what-ever-lived-on-the-other-side on top of his regular ghost nonsense.

“Mr. Fenton?”

Danny jumped and turned, refocusing on the adults, who had multiplied while he’d been daydreaming. The guy with the bow had joined them.

“Mr. Fenton? Like the Doctors Fenton I spoke to earlier?” asked Selvig.

“Yeah, it’s—”

This, of course, was when everything decided to explode. Sort of.

The blue cube shot out a beam of energy that had more than a little in common with the Fenton Bazooka’s portal setting. The beam terminated on the platform, a portal rapidly forming.

Danny slid into a fighting stance, and barely even noticed as blue energy washed over the room, throwing many less-prepared people back.

Something shaped like a man stepped through the portal.

Danny did not break his stance. Still. “An alien,” he whispered, eyes wide. If they were friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space. If they weren’t friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space after Danny beat them up.

(Danny did not go ghost. Did not even think about going ghost. There were too many people here, and the space was too open.)

Fury attempted to negotiate. Danny approved. Not everything that came through an interdimensional portal was necessarily evil.

Except this guy apparently was. Go figure. He could also deflect bullets and was very good with throwing knives, which led to Danny having to pull several of the gun guys out of their own line of fire as well as the alien’s line of knife. Who would have thought an alien’s weapon of choice would be throwing knives? The energy-blasting spear was much more in line with his expectations.

The bow guy proved to be more competent than the gun guys. This didn’t really surprise Danny. Bow guy sort of had to be competent. Otherwise, no way would they let him go around with a bow. Like, seriously. A bow.

Even so, bow guy was fighting an alien and—

“You have heart,” said the alien, raising the spear.

Danny pushed bow guy out of the way, and his mind fuzzed out.

(The human part of it, anyway.)

.

Loki didn’t know what a child was doing here, and he didn’t particularly care. The boy would do for a hostage, at least. He had a mission he had to fulfil, or else…

Or else.

“Please don’t,” he said turning with a shadow of his usual lazy affect, vaguely insulted that the human thought he could be sneaker that him, “I still need that.”

The human went on and on, apparently burdened with the delusion that he was on the same level as Loki.

Loki was burdened with other things. A glorious purpose. Glad tidings. Freedom. What could be better than freedom?

“A world free from what?” asked the human.

“From freedom,” said Loki, and wasn’t that what he believed, now? Wasn’t that what he’d been shown? “Freedom is life’s great lie.” He would know. He was an excellent liar. “Once you accept that, in your heart—” He batted away an arrow and tsked. “Shield me, boy,” he demanded. Had Thanos misrepresented the scepter’s powers? Or was the boy merely—

A dome of green surrounded him and the boy, thrumming with magic the likes of which he had only seen once, in a tome thrice forbidden.

“Oh,” said Loki, almost purring. “You are interesting. What are you?”

“Half human, half ghost,” replied the boy, tersely.

Loki had never heard of such a creature. No matter. He’d be sure to make good use of him.

“Grab the scientist,” he said, nodding at the balding man who had been with his brother when he’d fought the Destroyer in the desert.

Loki wanted the archer. He seemed interesting. Useful.

.

Fenton was under thrall. Phantom knew what that felt like. A hundred feet under red water, trying not to drown, whispers everywhere. Pulling. Pushing. Prodding.

This was different, but the principle was the same.

Neither half of him could truly ‘fight’ the other. Fenton and Phantom were a single entity. Not two in lockstep. Even so.

Fenton grabbed onto Dr. Selvig, as ordered. Phantom made sure that was all they did.

“What are you doing, boy?” snapped Loki. “Follow me! Bring the scientist.”

And so, they followed.

.

Loki breathed. Acquiring Barton had been the right choice. The boy was powerful, but, perhaps because of his unique biology, did not have Barton’s presence of mind, and couldn’t have led him to such wonderful allies.

Allies.

These weren’t truly his allies. Nor were they subjects. They were…

Loki forced himself to breathe. He just had to follow the mission. Follow the mission, let Thanos’s army through. He’d been promised this world. He would have this world.

And then he could be… His mind stuttered over the next word, and he shook his head, trying to drive out the painful buzz of Thanos’s herald and mouthpiece trying to contact him.

He looked up at the drones bustling around, all according to his will. Except the boy, who stared at him, somehow managing to be both utterly blank and challenging at the same time.

He was alone, here.

He was alone.

But what did it matter? Bad men always wound up alone, and Loki… Loki could never be a good man.