#and absolutely nothing needs to change with our muses!

[the-composer]

since a lot of ppl left the rpc that were in joshua’s circle and his existing circle is now much smaller and things are slower/fandom lull etc i’m considering the prospect of wiping his memory. he’d still be in his usual thing with sanae and his main verse with him and @dandybarista remains unchanged, but i think a clean slate could make for fresh and more enjoyable interactions. that said, if you don’t want anything to change with joshua and your muse can you please like or reply?

[pseudowho]

In Flagrante Delicto

Higuruma Hiromi will fight your help and guidance every step of the way...until one night, he catches himself needing you desperately.

An AU where Higuruma is forced into the employ of Jujutsu High after his role in The Culling Games.

Warnings: 18+, sex pollen!, angst, smut and fluff, Hiromi being willing to argue with anyone about anything, with a little bit of sex pollen needy Hiromi

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Higuruma Hiromi was undoubtedly the most difficult mission you had ever been given.

Tasked with walking Hiromi through 'the systems' of the Jujutsu world, you, a sorcerer who had been introduced to this world more conventionally, had absolutely nothing in your armory to counter the veritable force of nature that this man was.

You argued, constantly. He forced you to acknowledge the hideous insufficiencies and injustices in the system you worked for, at the most inconvenient of times.

Your patience was a finely tuned machine. You had perfected your ability to debate and discuss the ethics and morality of Jujutsu sorcerer activity, both legal and illegal, over a number of years.

But Higuruma Hiromi had driven you to drink. One evening, sat at home, deeper into a bottle of wine than you had anticipated, you received two messages in quick succession; one, from Yaga ("Mission with Higuruma tomorrow. Details to be sent over by Ijichi") and the other, from Higuruma ("I look forward to continuing our discussion tomorrow"), and you groaned, sinking the rest of your wine, and hoping it was enough to get you through the chaos of Higuruma's mind.

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"So," you started, approaching the subway with Higuruma, "lots of late-night civilian disappearances on this one line," you pointed to your map, "and two Second-Grade sorcerers have already disappeared in separate incidents. What does this tell you?"

Higuruma was silent, musing as he tapped his gavel lightly against his hip. Reaching his conclusion, he turned to you with a wry smile: "That your higher-ups knew, by the first Second-Grade's death, that a Second-Grade wasn't strong enough, but sent another Second-Grade anyway."

You sighed, deep and weary, "While that's probably true, we don't know they're dead--"

"Well they're not playing Scrabble, are they--"

"--and that's not the answer I'm looking for--"

"Well, I'm not here to be charitable, or unrealistic."

"Oh, are you here to be insufferable?"

Higuruma half-laughed, "Preferably. God forbid I should be sufferable--"

You swiped his gavel from his hand, and tapped him sharply on the forehead, "Higuruma. Please. I'm begging you," you clasped your hands for dramatic effect as he assessed you, a sardonic half-smile in his hooded eyes, "the quicker you play the game, the quicker you and I can go our separate ways and you can just go out and do this by yourself."

Higuruma's lip curled up in bitter distaste. He wiggled one finger into the knot of his tie, loosening it with an irritated twist of his neck. "I'll reiterate," he said, considered and flat, "that my joining the Jujutsu sorcerer's established hierarchy is a Hobson's Choice."

"If I want to go about making some positive changes to this cesspit," he spat, "I have to prove myself trustworthy in their eyes, and atone for my crimes by playing their game." Higuruma approached you, his chin tilted down as he looked through you, with sombre eyes.

"And the sad thing is," he said softly, now inches from you as you burned under his scrutiny, "you've been playing their game for so many years, you've convinced yourself that the rules are fair."

You swallowed, meeting his gaze; your agreement with him passed as an unspoken pact, but you were, as of yet, unable to betray your established part in this system with words. Higuruma nodded, slowly, understanding.

"So I'll inconvenience you as little as possible," he reassured, "and try to be a good boy today." You closed your eyes, breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth, counting to ten. Opening your eyes, you caught up to Higuruma, who was already halfway down the empty subway steps.

"Please don't go ahead without me," you pressed, "I know you're not completely inexperienced, but fighting Curses is much more nuanced than fighting Curse-users."

"But they're brainless, right? By all means they're probably easier." You tilted your hand from side to side.

"They fight on instinct. We can be guilty of overthinking something that's primal for them. I'd never assume I can out-think evolution."

Higuruma hummed, satisfied with your answer. You were relieved to have averted another argument. Reaching the bottom of the steps together, your shadows were short in the low eerie glow of the empty subway system.

"So the victims got on a train, but never got off it," Higuruma confirmed with you.

"But it hasn't been the same train every time, so it seems to--"

"--pick a host. Right. And you've asked the station master to keep to the same train schedule tonight?"

"Mhm. No people around though."

"So, we could always just get on trains until we're attacked."

"That is completely reckless, and I won't--"

Higuruma breezed away down the corridor, his slim suited figure sloping away so lackadaisically that you felt annoyance bubble up in your throat.

"You don't have to come," he called back, relaxed and confident, "I've got this covered." You ran after him, grabbing his upper arm. He stopped, annoyed and impatient.

"Just...trust me," Higuruma urged, "try something new. You may be pleasantly surprised." He gripped your hand, firmly breaking your grip as he stared you down.

"How can I trust you? I barely know you."

"Then why are you worried about me?" He taunted, heated and scathing, "Not really what you lot do, is it? Worry about each other?"

"Well I worry about you," you snapped, "I worry about you every day and every night since they tasked me with taking care of you." You swallowed, embarrassed by your outburst. Higuruma hesitated briefly, looking...touched? He spun round, his back to you now, tapping his gavel in irritation against his thigh.

"That settles it then," he said, convicted and grabbing you by the hand, "you've got to come with me. It would be cruel not to let you worry. Come along."

You were pulled through the dim corridors of the subway system by Higuruma Hiromi, protesting the whole way.

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"-- so stupid, you could have died--"

"-- but I didn't, and I'm fine, so stop worr--"

You slapped the wounded shoulder you were currently patching up for Higuruma, and he made a noise of protest as you scolded him, "Stop telling me to stop worrying," you cried, pressing gauze to his cuts, "because I've worked in this shitty system for years, so I know that if we don't worry about each other, nobody else will worry about us, and you have no regard for your own wellbeing--"

Higuruma's head snapped up, smiling, "So you agree," he pressed, excited by the new development, "that the higher-ups have no intention to safeguard any of you--"

"--I never disagreed with you, Higuruma. You just...missed the point. As usual."

Higuruma turned, unable to look you in the eye as you continued dabbing the back of his shoulder. His eyes beseeched you to continue, dark and quizzical.

You continued, your voice tight and upset, "Whether or not we fight back against the higher-ups, makes no difference. Almost every sorcerer in this wreck would go where they were sent anyway, because at least we have a chance of defending ourselves against the monsters out here."

You sighed, taping bandages down, Higuruma's bleeding now settled, "So that's what I decided to do. I expend my energy protecting the non-sorcerers because they're the weakest link in the equation. They can't defend themselves. It's the right thing to do. I'll fight the big fight on my days off."

Higuruma was quiet, allowing himself to be chastised. He rolled the gavel between his hands. He suddenly felt so exposed, shirtless in front of you, feeling every touch of your soft hands as they assessed his ribs, and he gulped, unusually unable to find the words to say.

"Do you, uh...do you want to grab a drink? After we're done here," he offered weakly, eager to spend time with you outside of these roles you were forced to play.

"No," you emphasised as he rubbed his nose, "you'd probably tell me my drink order was wrong." Higuruma sunk his face into his hands, laughing.

"I'm not that bad--"

"You are dreadful. I love the...the passion you have, but I'm just...I'm tired. I'd rather go home." Higuruma nodded, thoroughly shot-down, respecting your refusal.

Sloping home that night, insisting he'd prefer to walk over being dropped home by Nitta, Higuruma considered he may have been fighting the wrong person for weeks now. Torn between 'playing the game' to get out from under your feet as soon as possible, and resisting becoming part of another broken, unjust system, Higuruma found himself erring unusually on the side which benefitted you over anyone else.

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In the midst of battle, you found yourself separated from Higuruma, cold dread seeping into your belly as you realised there was nobody else here to save him from himself. Distracted, you took a major hit, thrown by some sordid thrashing beast down an old brick staircase.

You had largely protected your body in swathes of your own Cursed-energy, but still had the breath forced out of your lungs as you had hit the wall below. The Curse, enormous and puce-coloured, roared down the stairs after you.

Trying to stand on a dice roll, your numbers came up short and you stumbled, heart lurching into your mouth.

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You and Higuruma had been assigned to clear out a growing populace of curses in an abandoned block of flats. Trying to talk to him, to plan tactics and methodology, Higuruma had seemed quietly indifferent towards you on the journey there. Refusing to engage with you on any serious level, he seemed almost bored of you, staring impassively out of the window throughout.

You tried not to be hurt, reminding yourself you were here to assess whether or not Higuruma was safe to act independently as a sorcerer. After his series of murders in the Culling Games and before, he was offered two choices: work for Jujutsu High, or refuse and face being hunted down and executed. But, he was an adult, and his safety was ultimately not your jurisdiction if he refused to take your advice.

And yet...the thought of his death by any means filled you with a sickly dread.

Because in reality, Higuruma represented the idealism, the ethical standards that working within a broken system had steadily stamped out of you. Your anger towards him was a projection of your own shame at having fallen into line when you wanted nothing more than to rebel, to protect the weak, including your own colleagues, despite the resistance.

Even worse, Higuruma saw this, and his disappointment in you only deepened your shame. You were meant to be 'helping him' to adapt to your world, and you felt sick to your stomach as you tried to contaminate this man. You felt sicker still as you felt yourself creep closer and closer to his way of thinking, wondering if you fit in this world anymore.

You couldn't tell him how deeply you admired him for being everything you had fallen so far from.

After efforts to interact had fallen flat, you sat beside each other in stony silence. Still, you felt, despite his feigned indifference, anger poured off him, not cold, but white hot.

"What have I...what have I done?" you asked, afraid of the answer.

Higuruma looked at you, eyes still glowing like little coals in his impassive face; "What have you done?" he retaliated. You sighed, a short breath out of your nose.

"...you're not ready to be sent out alone yet. You're reckless and you've got by on luck so far, but--"

"--so you saw fit to carry on this babysitting charade by telling the higher-ups that I'm a danger to myself and others around me." Higuruma scowled at you, not trying to conceal his fury anymore. You blushed, feeling the shame twist in your throat.

"...you...assume you're going to come out on top in every fight, so you don't assess the danger before you jump in, and it's just a matter of time before-- before you--" You reached out to take his hand, desperate to communicate your fear for him in a way he would understand. Higuruma moved to pull his hand away and you held on harder.

"I just...couldn't stand to see you die some pointless death," you urged, "I need-- we need men like you." Higuruma appeared unmoved, silently allowing you to squeeze his hand. Eventually, his long fingers slowly closed around yours.

"I don't think anyone's cared about me this much in years," he replied, as lightly as if he were talking about the weather.

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Brickwork and rubble clouded your vision as the floor rumbled beneath your feet, the Curse blown sideways, shunted by a comedically large gavel. You felt a taut-muscled arm loop around your waist, yanking you to stand-- "get up, come on-- NOW!" -- and you half-ran, half-staggered through a devastated corridor. Your heart sank as you spotted the staircases downward completely collapsed, leaving you both stranded on the fifth floor.

Higuruma appeared, dusty and spitting, wiping residue out of his eyes and slamming his hand to a button on the wall. In a wild flurry, the Curse turned the corner, screeching and hissing, and with a *ping* the lift doors opened. Not looking back at you, Higuruma shoved you into the open lift, slamming his hand on the button again for the doors to close.

"No-- Higuruma! Hiromi!" You skidded across the lift on grazed knees, wedging your arm between the doors with a yell as they closed around it. The lift didn't move down, and you heard Higuruma's incoherent shout of rage at you as you forced the doors open, reaching out for him and dragging him in by the back of his collar, and hammering the 'close doors' button repeatedly as the Curse, still dazed and staggered, made its headlong rush towards you.

As you fell into the lift with Higuruma, you felt a hand press behind your head, its fine bones crunching as it cushioned your head's strike against the wall. You sat, slumped, Higuruma's body over yours in a protective cage, as the doors slid closed, denting inwards as the Curse hit them with a metallic thud, and a roar.

Silence. Higuruma, silent and seething, reached behind him to press another button. The lift started a smooth descent downwards.

"I had it," he spat, lips curled upwards, nose wrinkled in animated fury, "and you stopped me-- for what? Why?"

You gulped, coughing brick dust out of your lungs as you croaked, "You were lunch. You were that close to being killed--"

"--do you really think I'm that inept--"

"--you're not inept, just inexperienced--"

"I'm not a fucking child!" Higuruma's voice rang, deep and final, around the lift. The lift pinged as you reached the bottom floor. You sighed again, pushing him away from you as you stood, moving towards the doors.

"We'll regroup and consider our plan of--" A wiry arm blocked your path, holding down the 'close doors' button.

"We are not finished," Higuruma pressed, enunciating every syllable with gritted teeth. You rested your hand on his forearm, gentle and weary.

"I am. I'm finished." Higuruma stared at you incredulously, hackles still raised. You continued, "I can't coddle you anymore. You're a smart man, you're happy you know what you're doing. So I'm finished. I won't keep fighting you for your own life, Hiromi."

Hiromi deflated slowly, unable to fight without an opponent. His lip still curled, he refused to move his arm from blocking the door, looking away from you as his fury simmered low.

"I'll clear you with the higher ups. Do what you want to finish up here. I'm done." Still, Hiromi didn't let you go, silent as your hand stayed tenderly on his forearm. A few heartbeats passed between you.

"The thing is, Hiromi...you've already lost the fight when you think the result is the most important thing. Being willing to put yourself forward to defend people, going through that fight for them...that's the really noble thing. Any idiot can win a fight. It takes guts to stand up and decide to fight in the first place."

Reaching past Hiromi to press the 'open doors' button, the lift flooded with daylight, muted by the external veil. Hiromi's arm dropped, beaten. As you moved to step past him, his fingers gently tangled in yours, your hands ghosting together between your bodies.

"Can I...can I buy you a drink? To thank you." You swallowed, throat thick with conflicting emotion. You hesitated, then nodded. Hiromi smiled down at you, something unreadably tender in his eyes.

He leaned slowly down, and pressed a soft-lipped kiss to your forehead; "thank you."

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You didn't get to go out for that drink. After giving the higher-ups your approval for Higuruma to be released, he was thrown headlong into mission after mission.

You sent him occasional texts, and he messaged back, usually dry witty commentaries on the jobs he'd been given. You found yourself missing him, feeling little golden bubbles of joy when your phone pinged, his name on the screen.

It had been a week since your disastrous argument in the lift. You still felt guilty for having abandoned him, still not feeling he was ready, but knowing he had to find his own footing at this point.

Late one evening, you dried your hair with a towel, padding around your apartment in just your underwear as you got ready for bed. You jumped and squeaked with alarm as someone hammered on your door. Grabbing an oversized t-shirt from a pile of laundry, you pulled it on over your head. Approaching the door, cautious, you were alarmed to feel--

"...Hiromi?"

Hiromi leaned against your doorframe, his head on his forearm, and he looked at you with feverish eyes, panting, apparently in pain. His dishevelled suit, and a blossoming bruise beneath his right eye placed him as a man fresh from a mission.

Without hesitation, you gripped Hiromi by the hand and pulled him into your apartment, closing and locking the door. Immediately your hands grasped his cheeks, looking deeply into his eyes, a look of such sweet concern on your face that he gulped, overwhelmed, desperate.

"What happened? Why are you here? You should get to Shoko--"

"I don't want Shoko," he spat, chest heaving as he turned away again, pressing his forehead to his fist against the door, "I want...I want you." You blushed, pleased he had come to you for help, but your medical knowledge was limited.

"What happened?" You asked again, hands cautiously ghosting over his abdomen, checking for injuries.

Hiromi groaned, low and slow, as he burned from the inside out. Your touch shot through him like a thousand arrows. His fingers seared his skin as he fumbled, trying to undo his own tie, and you took pity, reaching round him, your small hands cool against his neck as you removed his tie for him. You felt him tremble against you.

As his collar opened, you spotted a narrow, inch-long dart in his neck, like a cactus prickle. Curious, you plucked it out and dropped it onto the sideboard near the door. Is he poisoned? You questioned yourself in a panic, and you grasped him by the cheeks again, looking deeply into his eyes, terrified you'd watch the life ebb out of him, unable to do anything.

"What do you...what are you feeling?" You took him by the hand, guiding him to your sofa and forcing him to sit as you stood in front of him. His sloped eyes were narrow, taking in your barely-covered legs, the barely-concealed nubs of your nipples beneath the t-shirt fabric. Hiromi reached out with a shaking hand, grazing his fingers up your calf and your breath hitched.

"...Hiromi?" His hooded eyes flicked up to yours as his fingers stayed on your calf. Oh, you looked so uncertain, so concerned for him, and it was...delicious.

"It hurts," Hiromi croaked, "I need-- I-- I need--" His throat was tight, and you took him in, how desperate he looked, how needy, and the realisation clicked into place.

"You need...me?" Hiromi shuddered, recalling how he'd walked directly into an obvious trap while hunting down this godforsaken Curse, not taking in his surroundings, stubborn and certain in his ability to prevail--

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, cock throbbing, trapped against his thigh, his whole body burning from the inside out, "I was wrong."

"Oh, so you do know how to flirt," you teased and he huffed out a laugh, groaning again, in agony, and he begged, shameless, his head leant forward to press against your tummy as his hands crept up, eager to grasp your hips and pull you straight to his mouth.

"Please...please--" he whined, and you shivered feeling his hot breath on your belly through the fabric of your t-shirt, tangling your hands into his hair. Hiromi trembled, letting out a sandy growl against your clothes.

"Don't stop me, please," he urged, "I can't...I can't stop myself." He flipped your t-shirt up and you gasped, his strong hands sinking into the plush of your hips, holding you to his mouth, his tongue tasting you as he swiped open-mouthed kisses just above your underwear.

You felt sweet pleasure throb between your legs, all good sense thrown out of the window as you felt how deeply you had missed Hiromi, how ridiculously grateful you felt to be needed by him in this way, and you breathed to him, "You know I'd always help you."

Hiromi moaned his appreciation, his mouth now slipping down to the front of your underwear, and his tongue traced the shape of your pussy, groaning at the taste of you on the tip of his tongue. Your knees buckled, weak with the feeling of his mouth against you.

His lean arms hooked around the back of your knees, lifting them over his shoulders as he leaned you back against him. You cried out, when leaning forwards to grasp the back of the sofa, your clothed pussy pressed firmly against Hiromi's face.

You blushed as he breathed you in, his hips bucking instinctively upwards, aching to be inside you, cum heavy in his balls and desperate for release. His teeth grazed your pussy through your underwear, and he nuzzled into you, trying to part your folds with his nose through the fabric. Impatient, and feeling your hand sink into his hair again, he used two fingers to swipe your underwear aside, sinking his tongue instantly between your folds.

You whined so beautifully above him, and he undid his trousers, pulling his cock out of his trousers, gripping it tightly as he rubbed his nose and tongue urgently between your soft lips. Hiromi began to stroke himself furiously, squeezing hard at the tip, pre-cum dripping down his fist, shivering at the pleasure.

You allowed Hiromi to use you, your keening voice rising as he latched onto your clit, sinking two fingers into your pussy with no warning, thrusting them roughly into you. You bucked your hips against his face as he whimpered his approval. You blushed as you heard the frantic plaps of Hiromi pleasuring himself, your brain foggy with bliss.

Hiromi's fingers bullied into you, desperate to study you, imagining how deliciously his cock would stretch those plush walls. The constant pressure of his fingers against your cervix and his desperately nuzzling tongue and nose between your folds had you reeling, humping his face as you trembled and shook, Hiromi encouraging it as you approached your orgasm.

Your pleasure peaked, sharp and sweet, and Hiromi held you tightly to his face, still determined to taste you, drawing your orgasm out until you quivered, overstimulated, feeling your heart pulse between your legs. As Hiromi shook from his own orgasm, but not at all relieved and panting, cum dribbling down the front of his shirt, he dropped you into his lap.

You gripped the front of his shirt, his cum sticky against your belly. His hand tangled into your hair as he crushed his lips to yours with bruising force, forcing you to taste him. Nipping your bottom lip between his teeth, he whispered, begging again.

"Inside you...please, please..." You nodded again, and Hiromi threw your shirt off over your head, leaning back to drink you in; panting, trembling, straddling his lap, what the fuck was he playing at by fighting with you for so long--

Your hands worked nimbly at the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning and pressing it down his arms and you leaned forwards, almost as hungry as him as you took his nipple into your mouth. Hiromi hissed with delight, kicking off his trousers, shoes and socks and rocking your hips against him.

Hiromi grasped your hands, pressing one to his cheek, and one to his chest, forcing you to lean forwards as you shamelessly cast your eyes up and down his lean body, his muscles twitching with the electricity of your core on his aching cock. His teeth scraped against the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, your shivers like a sedative to him.

His eyes burned into yours, hot and pleading in the dark. His body was a furnace against yours, desperately craving a cure for the agony he was in. You lifted one leg off him, intending to stand to remove your underwear, but stopped as Hiromi all but sobbed against your wrist at the sudden loss of pressure on his cock, throbbing and sticky with cum against the neat, black hair on his belly. His fine-boned hands pressed you hard against him, before methodically tearing the sides of your underwear, flinging the scrap of fabric to the side.

When you grasped his aching cock, Hiromi was almost blinded by the anticipation, his hands flinging out sideways to grip the fabric of the sofa, and he panted, whimpering and pleading as you rubbed the angry red head of his cock between your folds, gathering wetness.

When you sank slowly down onto him, crying out as your walls fluttered around him like wet velvet, Hiromi came again with  a shout, faint with bliss and temporary relief, feeling his own seed drip out of you and onto his thighs. He growled in frustration when, after his cock had stopped twitching inside you, he felt the need to cum again build up within his belly, overwhelming him with an almost violent urge to pursue it.

"...Hiromi? Do you...is this...?" You rode him slowly as he twisted in pleasure and anguish beneath you. Reaching up to grasp your breasts like stress-balls, Hiromi shook his head desperately at you, feeling pathetic and helpless. He was corseted by his intense need to not hurt you. You leaned into him, whispering reassurance and soft nothings in his ear.

Hiromi couldn't take it anymore. Standing up, holding himself inside you and locking your ankles behind his hips, he flipped you over, crushing your thighs to your chest. Grasping the back of the sofa, Hiromi snapped his hips against yours with determined precision, his shoulders tight and mouth slack as with every thrust he felt the urge to push harder, deeper, to empty himself inside you again and again, until you were putty in his hands, until he had cleansed himself of this unscratchable itch.

You clawed for purchase on anything as you were pounded into the sofa, drunk on the sensation of being so full, your insides feeling thrillingly bruised, the tenderness building, slow and intense. Reaching up, you plaited your fingers in Hiromi's at the top of the sofa, and he leaned down, nipping and kissing your knuckles in grateful affection.

The air was filled with the wet slaps of your joint bodies, and Hiromi's constant soft whimpers as you came again, this orgasm burning through your body as you hiccuped, tears streaming into your hair.

"Please please please...please, please," Hiromi begged as his next orgasm surged ruinously through him, dropping him to his knees on the edge of the sofa. Hiromi felt his senses return to him with each pulse of cum that left his body, relieved...for now.

Weak, exhausted, Hiromi flopped onto you, wrapping your arms and legs around him in a full-body embrace, suddenly feeling so touch-starved. Hiromi almost wept his thanks into your hair, and you stroked his hair in soft circles with your nails, all reassurance and acceptance.

By the time you had made it to your bedroom and slipped, sticky and spent, between the soft covers, Hiromi's eyes had returned to you, hungry and burning, his fingers stroking through your folds, fascinated by the drips of his seed still leaking out of you. He had flipped you over and pinned you prone to the mattress, sinking into you and moaning your praises as you had clenched, trembling with overstimulation, sucking his cock into your aching body.

Throughout the night, his relief had waned, with longer and longer gaps between him seeking out the warm acceptance of your body. You would wake to his body flush against yours, Hiromi lifting your leg over his hip as he sunk into you, mewling and panting in the night.

Finally, you had woken with sunlight streaming through the windows, Hiromi draped around you, looking soft and exhausted as he slept; Hiromi woke to the smell of coffee and you, very much ready to be cared for...and, occasionally, argued with.

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Ugh, yes. Debate me, lawyer daddy.

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑵 𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.  (  all of these are taken from the album ‘the eyes of tomorrow’ released in 2007 and 'x lover' released in 2021.  feel free to adjust to better fit your muses.  )

❛  you're attempting to bore me.  ❜ ❛  maybe we're all insane?  ❜ ❛  i see you enjoy this.  ❜ ❛  i'm feeling much better, my friend.  ❜ ❛  never again will i give in.  ❜ ❛  now fight, unless you're willing to die.  ❜ ❛  this is the moment i've been waiting for.  ❜ ❛  no doubt or fear, my view is now clear.  ❜ ❛  i've never felt so alive.  ❜ ❛  i still remember the way you said goodbye.  ❜ ❛  no matter how hard i try, i can't forget about love.  ❜ ❛  until the end of me, you'll be the death of me.  ❜ ❛  i dare you to cross the line again.  ❜ ❛  i'm waiting to be broken inside.  ❜ ❛  nothing from the past ever happens quite the same.  ❜ ❛  but i never expected that i'd underestimate my love for you.  ❜ ❛  i guess i'll spend another lifetime searching for a new hope.  ❜ ❛  it's impossible to look away.  ❜ ❛  i'm astonished by your absolute beauty.  ❜ ❛  set all your fears aside.  ❜ ❛  is this the part where we start our lives?  ❜ ❛  here comes the part where we start our lives.  ❜ ❛  i feel i've already been here.  ❜ ❛  so why does nothing make us wanna try?  ❜ ❛  just one touch, you can change my mind.  ❜ ❛  i can say the process is painless. that'd be a lie.  ❜ ❛  i don't have the strength to let you go.  ❜ ❛  deep within my soul, i've always known that you're everything i've ever needed.  ❜ ❛  just say the words and i'm all yours.  ❜ ❛  i'm scared to death of living this life without you.  ❜ ❛  how can this be wrong when it feels so right?  ❜ ❛  would you give me one more night?  ❜ ❛  i'll show you everything that you've ever dreamed of.  ❜ ❛  will you find your way home?  ❜ ❛  don't give up on me, i'm giving this my everything.  ❜ ❛  i still believe in you.  ❜ ❛  i'll fight any war with you and for you.  ❜ ❛  i wonder why i waited for you.  ❜ ❛  there's not a harder thing a man can do than pretend he's not in love with you.  ❜ ❛  i've been lost for a little while but i feel free.  ❜

[thesirencult]

THE TRUTH ABOUT ESCAPING TWIN FLAMES AND OTHER MLM NEW AGE BULLSHIT

"You don't get rich writing science fiction. If you want to get rich, you start a religion."

L. Ron Hubbard (Founder of Scientology)

I won't lie to you. What got me into tarot was a very raw and real dream about a man I've never met in my life. I had this dream when I was 15 and it felt like I was floating in a parallel universe.

Dreams with this "stranger" kept coming and going and during a search I stumbled upon the concept of "twin flames".

As with anything NeW AgE it is nothing new. All New Age bullshit are concepts familiar to human civilizations for thousands of years. In all ancient cultures these concepts show up again and again.

Astrology, cartomancy and other forms of divination and guidance have been used by Mesopotamians, Egyptians, Greeks and Hindu people for centuries. They were villainized after the come up of Christianity.

I always have believed there is a higher power. Some name it Allah, others Moses, other Dias etc. Doesn't matter, it's one God above us. Actually contrary to what many want you to believe the Ancient Greeks didn't have "12 Gods" but 12 (and much much more) expressions of DIVINITY. Metaphors and symbolisms.

Hermes Trismegistus has written everything about "manifestation". Others just repackaged it. Some help us understand the concept and others just want to make a quick buck.

All people have some primal needs. Connection and love. Money and wealth. Wanting to be beautiful and powerful. Some people prey on that and, in my opinion, the self-improvement industry will only keep on growing.

The concept of twin flames can be found being expressed by Socrates in the dialogue "Symposium" by Plato :

“Now, since their natural form had been cut in two, each one longed for its own other half, and so they would throw their arms about each other, weaving themselves together, wanting to grow together...

This, then, is the source of our desire to love each other. Love is born into eve­ry human being: it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature.

Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole, because each was sliced like a flatfish, two out of one, and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him."

Sidenote: Obviously I used only two snippets of the dialogue. Socrates' stance on homosexuality and other matters of love can be found in there and it is a good read. It will definitely show you that some concepts have been around since humans walked on this earth.

Moving on, I want to give you some tips on how to best use astrology and tarot/oracle cards as TOOLS to better yourself.

1. First try them yourself.

Don't let others dictate how you see astrology and tarot. Go online and search up your birth chart on astroseek or visit the Light Seer's Tarot/Muse Tarot website which has an incredible pick a card feature.

Don't contact an astrologer or tarot reader before familiarising yourself with the tools and "taking the magic out" of them.

2. No one and mean NO ONE can predict the future 100%.

In our lives there are moments who seem synchronized. They make you believe in fate. I do believe that God intended for us to live through some things but I also absolutely believe in FREE WILL. I always say that to clients especially those who have tarot readings.

Tarot and astrology can help you see the paths laid in front of you. They help you dive in your unconscious mind. Don't let anyone fool you that they are magical and whatever the cards say can not change.

3. If you purchase a reading don't purchase a love/romance one at first.

Don't get me wrong. I love love and romance. I love doing love readings. They are sweet and sexy.

BUT. Even in my love readings I incorporate a "general energy of you" for the person. I do that cause I want to show to my client, who trusted me and chose me that a tarot reader can be vetted.

Sadly even with PAC readings I can see that the romance ones are read and reposted way more than ones that assist with personal development. I try to keep a balance and do both.

The thing is a good tarot reader, astrologer even a therapist or a fitness trainer want to help you become INDEPENDENT. I don't want you to keep coming back and purchase love readings about your ex.

It's toxic. I won't accept that.

4. You are perfect the way you are.

Telling you that "yeah, you have an issue right here and it can be fixed by doing so and so" is okay.

Telling you that "YOU SHOULD LOVE YOURSELF. YOU DON'T LOVE YOURSELF THAT'S WHY YOU WON'T FIND LOVE UNTIL YOU DO THAT" is toxic. People control you this way.

It's like saying give me more money. Ask me how I can make you LOVABLE.

Your other half won't cheat, manipulate or make you feel awful. Your ex who was an asshole is not your Twin Flame.

Light up the flame within and love out your dreams. You will attract people who will adore and love you by being AUTHENTIC.

Anyone that abuses you and puts your flame out should GO.

5. All big corporations prey on your weaknesses & Do not trust anyone who tells you they are the only ones that can set you free or solve your issues.

Be disciplined. Control yourself and your mind. Read "The 48 Laws Of Power" and other books on influence and manipulation. Learn how narcissists and cult leaders operate.

All big companies do not sell you products (I will probably post this part by itself too).

They sell you emotions, feelings, status. BMW doesn't sell cars, it is selling power and prestige and confidence.

Nike doesn't sell shoes and shirts, it is selling dreams of being powerful and different, of making it in the jungle, of WINNING.

But there are some companies which I'M NOT GOING TO MENTION by name who influence you by breaking you down. Astrology apps that send you negative predictions about your day to make you anxious so you will check back every single hour. Cult like influencers who sell "How to get rich quickly" courses that cost thousands of $ and offer no value.

Be careful. Be prepared. Be strong and firm.

I hope everyone who was taken in this cult (wait ! myy username is the siren cult, lol) can find peace and the power within them.

[sunflowerskies00]

sun to me, part 5

arms tied, legs numb, wrapped around my knee

series masterlist

"Luke Hughes," I put a hand on my hip as I stared him down across the room.

"Y/n," he pleads. He was very against the face masks I was trying to convince him to do. We were at my house tonight, not his. My roommates were all out, a rare occurrence in my house, so Luke had come to hang out with me since they didn't have a game or anything.

"It's good for your skin," I point my spatula for the mast at him.

"I don't care," he says. I narrow my eyes at him but lower my spatula, giving up on getting him to do a face mask with me.

"One day, you'll finally put this on your face and you'll realize that I've been right all along," I say.

"I doubt it," he shakes his head at me. I abandon the face mask and walk over to flop down on the couch. "How was practice?" He asks. My eyes cut over to him and obviously, the look on my face conveys it wasn't great because he winces. "Not great?"

"I don't know, Lauren is the most selfish person I've ever played with, it's awful. Coach Johnson is trying, but nothing is changing. She hasn't passed the puck a single time, I mean it's practice so no stakes obviously, but when she's giving up 4 or 5 goals each practice because she can't fucking pass, it's going to translate into games and we're going to fucking lose," I stare up at the ceiling.

"It's weird that she's made it this far with that flaw," He muses. I nod in agreement.

"I mentioned that to my roommates, and apparently the rest of her team in high school was so middle of the road that she was almost always given the puck to score or some shit, I don't know, it makes no sense to me," Luke has listened to me rant about some shit Lauren was pulling at practice almost every single day. I was about ready to just go off on her one day, but I think that could end up doing more damage for me in the long run, so I'd kept my mouth shut.

"You could always just lay into her," Luke sounds amused when he suggests what I'd been thinking.

"I've considered it, but I don't want to cause more problems."

"So, I have to listen to you rant every single day for the next several months?" I glance over at him to see an eyebrow raised at me.

"Yup, looks like it," I give him an over-enthusiastic smile.

"I think you should just beat her up," I narrow my eyes at his absolute trash suggestion. "Okay, fine, live in misery for the next however many months." I push myself off the couch and turn to look at Luke expectantly, waiting for him to stand as well. "What?"

"Let's go," I say.

"Go where?"

"I want food, and I have the need to go to a Target so let's go," I say. He groans but complies and pushes himself off the couch.

"Wait, are you driving?"

"Yes," I answer like that was a stupid question.

"But you're driving is scary," he mutters as we walk outside to the car. I shove his shoulder, shaking my head at him. I climb into the driver's seat, waiting expectantly for Luke to get in. "Whoever let you buy a giant ass truck needs to have their mental stability checked," he mumbles. I grab the pen from my cup holder and chuck it at him.

"I let myself buy this, and I am such a good driver, shut up."

"Right, and I'm the fucking president."

"Put your seatbelt on and shut up," I turn up my radio before backing out of the driveway, as Luke pulls on his seatbelt and pretends to pray.

------

Luke was currently regretting being my friend. I was sure of it. I was currently dragging him around Target as I browsed the store. I had no reason to come here, I just loved killing time here.

"Quit pouting," I point a finger at him.

"I'm not pouting," he retorts.

"You are, but if you stop, I'll take you for food," I say. He stops pouting and pretends to enjoy our trip through target.

"Have you talked to your brother recently?" He asks as we climb back into my truck. I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering where that's coming from. "Just about your lovely teammate and everything," he adds on.

"I talk to him like once a week, but I don't know, I don't like bringing up the negatives because I feel like he secretly wishes I had picked Michigan over Garden State," I admit. Luke looks floored by my revelation.

"Dude, he's so proud of you it's crazy, all he talked about was you getting offered a full ride to the best women's hockey program in the country and then when you got here last year, he talked about how you were on of the only freshman with a spot in the starting line up almost every week," Luke tells me.

"Really?" It comes out as a squeak. He nods.

"One bad thing isn't going to have him telling you to transfer, I'm sure he'd support your crazy fantasies of beating her up before helping with an actual solution," he says.

"You're pretty wise, y'know that?" I ask him. He rolls his eyes, deferring my statement so we can move on, seemingly embarrassed by my compliment.

"So, I was promised food?" He asks. I laugh, but nod, pulling out of the parking spot as Luke gets me to wherever he's wanting food from.

-------

When I walk back inside from saying goodbye to Luke in the driveway, my roommates are all back, sitting in our living room. It was funny how this is how I seemed to find them almost every single time I got back from hanging out with Luke.

"How was your evening with Mr. Luke?" Josie asks.

"It was good," I shrug. "We just went to Target and then we got food. And I bitched about Lauren but that's nothing new."

"Have you kissed him yet?" She asks.

"Josie," Ava starts laughing.

"It's a good question," Josie defends herself.

"No, we're just friends," I'm sure there's an amused look on my face.

"So boring, you have a tall, hot, NHL player who spends like all his free time with you, and you're not making out with him," Josie slumps back against the couch, crossing her arms across her chest. Ava, Lindsey, and I all try to stifle our laughter, highly amused by her theatrics.

"Do you want me to set you up with him?" I grin.

"No, I want you to have a friends to lovers romance, but you need to hurry it up, I'm impatient."

"Jo, I don't foresee that happening, ever." She narrows her eyes at me, but then shrugs.

"When you move past the denial, or whatever stage you're in, you'll see that I am so right." Lindsey and Ava both laugh and I just nod.

"Mkay, sure." I agree.

-------

liked by avamarie, lindseygrace, lhughes_06, and others

yourusername: life lately

tagged: avamarie, lindseygrace, josiej, and lhughes_06

avamarie: second pic goes hard

lindseygrace: fr y/n coming in with duck face yourusername: i'm brining it back josiej: please no

jackhughes: why tf are you flexing so hard lhughes_06

yourusername: fr I told him he looked dumb lhughes_06: you most definitely did not say that you just laughed yourusername: is that not the same thing?

josiej: 🤔🤨

lindseygrace: you read too many books avamarie: fr yourusername: gonna have to agree

lhughes_06: still think we should've bought the sunglasses

yourusername: still gonna say no to that. they were ugly lhughes_06: you just lack taste yourusername: sure ok we can go with that

username24: wait who is this girl and why are 2/3 of the Hughes commenting

username05: i think she's ethan edwards sister username12: she is, she also plays hockey at Garden State. she's like really good. i think she also plays defense- sam as her brother. username24: but are like her and luke dating? username12: bro idk it's not really our business and based on these photos i'd say no but again doesn't matter because it's not our business yourusername: dang ok hitting them with the facts username12

edwards.73: you befriending my friend and former teammate was not on my bingo card for the year

yourusername: that's tough yourusername: me and lukey are besties lhughes_06: please don't call me that edwards.73: don't terroize the poor guy too much lhughes_06: too late ^ she's a menace yourusername: oh says you lhughes_06

[vampiric-hunger]

𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕤 & 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕤 - 𝕖𝕡𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

pair: Cazador Szarr x female! dhampir !reader (this chapter)

tags: no y/n is used, rating - E, dead dove do not eat, smut, incest (father/daughter), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving)

summary: arrangement has been made and it seems to be working well. or at least you think it is from how your father appears to be going along with it. but he has conditions for you if you want him to keep allowing you to 'play' with Astarion and you can only hope you'll be able to fulfill them.

word count: 1,793

a/n: 🎶surprise surprise~ surprise surprise~🎶

or maybe not so much of a surprise? those who very kindly told me on my defunct sideblog that they want more are probably not as surprised. but here it is, an epilogue to the story. i always had the epilogue planned in my head, although this version is completely and utterly different from the og idea. despite the change i'm quite sure it's a good addition to the main story. enjoy <3

“He’s behaving much better now.” Cazador comments.

He’s sitting behind his elevated desk, reading a letter, one of many that have been delivered during daytime while he was resting with you in the bedroom. Now that it’s nightfall again he resumed his duties as a patriarch of his coven, but not before having his needs met by you like he does almost every evening immediately after he wakes.

You are looking outside the window, holding a heavy curtain to the side meant to keep the sunlight out during the day if your father has to be awake for any reason. Usually that reason is a very important one for him to skip his vampiric slumber.

“Who?” you snap out of your thoughts and look at Cazador curiously.

“The boy.” Cazador says and adds nothing else. He absolutely hates calling his spawn by names so now you’re left to be guessing who he means. But you have a very good idea who.

“Astarion, right?” you ask after a moment to think and Cazador glances at you with a calm expression before looking down at the letter clutched in his fingers.

“Yes, him. I’m surprised. He always had a… rebellious streak in him.” Vampire Lord pauses, then lowers his hands onto the desk and looks at you again. “Children like him don’t understand why they need to be disciplined. He doesn’t understand that his behavior is a reflection on me and our family name.”

How Cazador emphasizes certain words leaves you with no doubt – he still very much deeply despises Astarion. And yet he still continues to allow you to spend time with this spawn. Not to mention he often participates too. This is something you still cannot figure out, even after several months since all three of you came to agree on this arrangement. Why he continues to allow another man, a man he utterly hates, have you intimately? For some reason you feel that asking him directly might be a grave mistake. So you haven’t, not yet at least. But the question still deeply puzzles you.

And so does it puzzle Astarion. During times that you two spend alone, without your father’s presence, he too muses why Cazador would allow such a thing. Neither of you have an answer. Your father tends to be a mystery beyond understanding sometimes. Until he himself reveals his motives. And so far he didn’t bother to tell you all the whys and hows. But you’re sure the time will come.

“Then aren’t you glad he’s behaving now?” you let go of the curtain and walk to your father, stepping onto the elevated platform that his desk is standing on. Cazador follows you with his eyes as you approach and moves the letter he was reading to the side.

“Yes, I am. Even if his only motivation for finally behaving is you.”

“Hm.” you hum at the thought, could he be right?

Neither of you speak for now and you move closer. When Cazador leans back in his luxurious chair you step to the desk and sit on the edge of it, slipping along it to be right in front of him and your father smirks in approval. You lift your legs and place your feet on the armrests when he removes his elbows from them.

“Even if it’s me he’s behaving for, still a benefit, is it not?” you ask calmly with your eyes on Cazador’s face but he’s not looking up. His focus is now on your body, your parted legs.

Vampire Lord’s cool palms find your ankles and begin sliding up your legs, lifting your long dress as he does so and when the fabric is just over your knees his hungry eyes move to look at your cunt. Per his instruction you don’t wear underwear so you’re perfectly exposed for him. He grins.

“It is, but I don’t want other spawn to think that all they have to do to be able to sleep with you is start rebelling. The boy is only allowed into our bedroom because you wanted him.” Cazador speaks while his hands move between your legs and his fingers spread your folds apart, making you blush even if you’re only feeling, not seeing, what he’s doing. To give him a better access you lean back, pressing your palms flat against the desk’s surface behind you.

“I’m confident no one is thinking that, dad.” you say in a voice now laced with desire as his thumb traces your entrance, trying to tease out the proof of your building arousal.

“I’m not so sure about that. Maybe I should have Godey flay Astarion for a week, to show the others that he’s not special. No one is special in this palace except for you.” Cazador’s voice is lower than usual, his other thumb begins circling your clit and you bite down a moan, your legs begin to quiver. With how easily his thumb start sliding over your spread open entrance you know you’re all wet for him already.

“Don’t, dad. I don’t want Astarion broken. It’s enough already you don’t feed him anything that’s not a pest.” you try to keep your voice leveled and even but it quivers just like your legs and you begin moaning when your father’s thumb, now dipped into your own slickness, returns to your clit and rubs it expertly, performing in exact way that you like best.

“The boy will get arrogant if he’s not reminded of his place, my dear daughter.” Cazador glances up at you and you bite your lip down, your eyes meeting his as you blush and breathe heavily, your chest heaving, your fingers pressing harder against the desk.

He doesn’t stop. Your father’s thumb still rubs electrifying circles against your swollen nub but fingers of his other hand now cease their stroking, instead he inserts two of them into you, making you moan louder, making your body tense in response to pleasure and your body being invaded.

“Don’t look away.” Cazador commands and begins pumping his fingers into your cunt. Slowly at first, but then faster and harder, making you moan louder.

“Dad, don’t punish him.” you try to continue the conversation, your eyes on the crimson of his and Cazador smirks in return.

“You really like your toy, don’t you?” he asks and you’re not sure if this is some kind of trap so you simply nod. “Well, as long as you don’t forget that you’re mine and mine only.” Vampire Lord’s fingers curl inside of you, making your back muscles taut and you have to put in all your effort not to throw your head back, close your eyes and cry out from pleasure.

No, he wants you to look at him so you obey, a good girl that you are.

“I’m yours, dad.” you whimper, gasping for air with a soft mewl every time his fingers plunge back into you, his thumb on your clit not relenting.

Cazador smirks at that and pulls out his fingers, leaving an aching absence in their wake and you let out a noise of frustration but it gets cut short when your father leans in and replaces his thumb with his tongue. You gasp loudly and close your eyes now that he’s hidden behind the fabric of your dress still draping over your thighs. You feel the tip of his tongue flick at your clit, making you yelp, then his lips press around your cunt, his tongue slips inside of you with ease and he begins moving it, making you moan, making you put all your effort into not laying on your back and just letting yourself enjoy this. But you don’t dare to move, without Cazador’s command you never move.

His hands now grip your thighs as you shiver from pleasure and strain to stay in your position but the feel of his tongue is driving you crazy, your swollen clit throbs with need and your father doesn’t ignore it. His tongue leaves your core and presses flatly against your sensitive nub, then he begins to suck, drawing out partial screams from behind your lips now.

“Dad, fuck… Oh gods!” you gasp while his tongue rubs against your clit, while he sucks on it, rushing you to your climax in a matter of seconds and making your head spin.

You feel barely prepared for when your orgasm hits you. It hits you heavily, mind-numbingly and gloriously. You can’t keep your body up and you fall onto your back on the desk and cry out again and again and again. Your fingers pull at the dress on your thighs to move it away and you grasp Cazador’s hair, gripping it with force. While you’re consumed by your bliss your father pushes his tongue into your spasming cunt once more, relishing the feeling of your body contracting from pleasure he has given you. And then it begins to fade.

With heavy gasps you remain laying still, but your grip in Vampire Lord’s hair loosens and his tongue slips out of you. He gives your seam and your throbbing clit a slow lick, making you twitch in response, everything’s so sensitive now and you hear him chuckle.

“What a good girl you are.” he praises and you manage a tired smile to that. You feel good when he praises you.

But then you sense Cazador move away from your spread legs and you open your eyes just as he leans over you. His eyes bore into yours and you expect a kiss but he doesn’t lean any lower. For some reason his expression is serious, making you feel mild concern in your dizzied mind.

“If you want to keep the boy as your plaything then you will have to be a very good girl and do everything I tell you to do.” Cazador says in a voice that means he’s not teasing, not taunting, he means every word with seriousness of a wooden stake to the heart.

“Anything, dad. I always do anything you tell me to do.” you manage to whisper between your labored breaths and his eyes narrow slightly.

“I know. That’s why I love you so.” he caresses your sweaty cheek. “Rest assured, when time comes I will let you know what needs to be done. And there’s plenty of affairs planned in near future, my dear daughter. But for now, be good.”

Cazador leans and presses his lips against yours. When you part them, letting his tongue into your mouth, you taste yourself and it makes you quietly whimper.

Still, what he said lingers in your clouded mind.

Plenty of affairs planned. And he wants you to be part of them.

You don’t dare to think what that might be.

---------------------------

p.s. now that you've read (i shall assume) through the chapter i will make it clear - part 2 is coming 🎉

[xoxoemynn]

tag your most hard working fic writing mutuals uWu

Oh, buddy, I am friends with SO many extremely talented writers who work their absolute butts off to give us incredible fic and I know I'm going to miss people, so I'm going to cheat a bit and rec some recent-ish fics written by beloved mutuals. Would 100% encourage you to check out the linked story and then their entire collection of works because they are all fab. 💕

The Detectorists AU by @monksofthescrew. Two-part metal detecting AU. It is so atmospheric, so rich and tender and nuanced with some really incredible timey wimey stuff intertwined. I'm a little biased because I beta read these, but I think of them so often. Just a master class in story telling.

Respawn by @glamaphonic. This is SUCH a fun AU where Ed and Stede are both streamers. The concept works SO well, and the flirting and banter is top-tier. I know next to nothing about video games and I've still been able to follow along easily, squeezing my cheeks and kicking my feet the entire time.

wanna fly away (I don't know where my soul is) by @ghostalservice and @petrichorca. Speaking of fics I love where I know nothing about the concept, this is an Animorphs AU where Stede is just the most precious alien whom I would 100000% die for. It's such a fun, rich, layered story and I'm eagerly awaiting to see where it goes. Also just love this description of it: Our story is about finding one’s place in the universe (actually and figuratively), plays with the transformative nature of morphing and the power to change one’s body, and explores two individuals from wildly different backgrounds falling in love.

Moonstone Mage Championship by @blakbonnet. Holy crap, the WORLD BUILDING. Meow's mind is a wonder. I truly don't know how she does it, but I am literally in awe of her work on this fic. One of the most creative and detailed stories I've ever read.

Different Names for the Same Thing by @oatmilktruther. I have been rotating this fic in my brain ever since it was posted. I don't even have proper words to describe how gorgeous it is. It's basically my soul now. Abs' gift for blending humor and tenderness and making you feel the love between Ed and Stede is unparalleled.

My Father's House by @trans-top-stede. Owen describes this as "a t4t theatre au (kind of)" because it is about theatre, but it's mostly about gender and families and the healing power of queer art" and YES. It's beautiful and tender and hot and that last line has stuck with me ever since it was posted.

Gold Rush by @abigailpents. Potentially the sweetest AU I've ever read. Just pure love and romance. Just let yourself get swept away. It is lovely.

Tree Change by @clairegregoryau. I am constantly in awe of all the work Claire puts into her fics. She is operating on a whole other stratosphere and it's incredible to watch. Tree Change is a little teaser for what promises to be an incredibly unhinged Kinktober and I am just rubbing my hands with glee for what's to come. (ba dum tss.)

Matching spark and flame by @bizarrelittlemew. My current read that I am devouring, it's so fucking good. Everything Ida creates is just pure magic, and this one is no exception. Also extremely excited for the OFMD Fic Club discussion on this one later in the month, so be sure to read and join the server so you don't miss out.

I know I'm missing a bunch, but this list is already getting long and I need to get back to some beta work. Kissing all my writer mutuals on the forehead and giving them all the good writing vibes. May your muses be ever loquacious and cooperative. 💕

[ravencromwell]

Finally decided to indulge in the Siuan/Moiraine meta I've been wanting to write for ages now, musing on the differences in psychology ensuing from their significantly different arcs within the book and show and why Siuan's actions at season 2's apex are entirely in psychological sync with her show portrayal, even if they swerve wildly from the books.

Let's start with some Siuan back-story context. In the books, Tear was undeniably an unfriendly city for those with the One Power. But that translated, in practical terms, to Aes Sedai keeping their stays there brief, and girls who could touch The Source being quickly bustled off to the Tower. There were no Aes Sedai advisers, as in other kingdoms etc., but neither was there the virulent hostility of the show.

Siuan left Tear quickly in the books—the first day she was discovered to have the Power, but only because a sister was traveling through and didn't wish to delay returning to The Tower for such pesky things as sentimental goodbyes. Was that harsh? Absolutely. But the world of the books is exceedingly harsh in some respects, giving girls little to no choice about becoming Sisters, should they be discovered harboring abilities. (Much of Nynaeve's back-story involved hiding her powers precisely because she didn't fancy being ripped from The Two Rivers.)

Siuan faces a much different harshness in the show. The show doesn't do a great job explaining this, but The Dragon's Fang, which is etched onto Siuan's door before her house is unceremoniously torched, is a sign of immense contempt for Dark Friends. Within show Tear, a wary mistrust of Aes Sedai has curdled into something much more dangerous. All use of The Power is suspect, because if men's half was tainted, there's nothing to say women won't go suddenly mad, too.

It's worth remembering as well here that book Siuan was roughly fifteen when she went to The Tower. Now, I'm totally blind, and audio description doesn't give me an age for tiny show-Siuan, but if she's anywhere near puberty, I'll eat my metaphorical hat. And instead of being shepherded to The Tower, she had to flee for her life.

In her family's only means of support, I might ad. Book Siuan was by no means well-to-do, but she was firmly in the middling ranks of the working poor. Show Siuan's family are on the fucking destitution brink y'all. And she took her father's livelihood. Dying destitute ain’t fuckin pretty.

Siuan is not a stupid kid, and she clearly adores the shit out of her papa. The first thing that little girl did the millisecond she got any privileges? Wrote to her papa.

And more than likely, Berden never wrote back. It wouldn't take her long to figure out what'd happened. Moiraine is at great pains to tell Alana Jenny was not "her" support dog, and we laugh it off as oh, look at Moiraine being all adorably prim. Which in one sense, it totally is. But I'd almost guarantee you there's a deeper layer there: it wasn't "hers"; it was "theirs" because once Siuan found out her beloved papa was dead, they both needed something to cuddle.

This may seem like somewhat of a digression, but I'm maundering on because in the books yes, Dark Friends are evil. But they're evil because they caused a terrible cataclysm many thousands of years ago that killed lots of people, and they wanna do it again. There's no personal skin in the game for our beloved ladies, except they get thrust into the job through a convergence of some very complicated circumstances—I'd recommend any show-only watchers read "New Spring" because while I love almost all the changes the show has made ferociously, the way Siuan and Moiraine undertake the search is vastly more plausible as presented by Jordan there.

For Siuan in the show, by contrast, Dark Friend has _very personal ramifications. Dark Friends caused the corrosive mistrust that got her papa _killed! And Moiraine, better than _anyone, knows how that broke her.

And she _knows full well she could be deposed simply for having a relationship with Moiraine. The sensible thing to keep all the awful people from committing terrible crimes that will reverberate down the centuries to impact a little girl just as she was impacted would be to keep both their noses clean. And yet, she loves Moiraine so much that she'll take that risk to maintain not only an alliance about Rand, but a romantic relationship which could, realistically, be discovered much more easily.

And now, Moiraine, the woman who parroted back her beloved father's words of farewell about how Siuan was as clever as a pike and strong as the tides seemingly willfully lied; seemingly became a _Dark _Friend. Even her admonition that Lanfear is "too strong" must bring up so many awful questions: just how long have they been working together for her to know that? Because from Siuan's perspective, what it looks like is Lanfear coming in, guns blazing, to save her accomplice, Moiraine.

When Siuan says that there are rules and they have to abide by them, it's reflecting profoundly deep fears—not only about what Rand could do, but the kind of hatred toward those with The Power it could foster. For twenty years, she's put those fears aside. And now it appears that her going against Tower Law has lost her Moiraine to the Forsaken, and made terrible outcomes nigh on inevitable. And people are really confused about why she looks beaten?

Hell, from her perspective, forget Lanfear's entrance. The very fact Moiraine seemingly lied to her and is now talking about love must seem such a cruel mockery: laughing at Siuan's weakness; just as, perhaps, she was laughing at her with that parting comment in The Tower: an Amyrlin Seat still so swayed by what her papa told her so many years ago. (Yeah, we know it was as close as she could come to an I love you, but how the hell is Siuan supposed to know that, given everything?) This was not willful emotional abuse on someone she knew to be acting in good faith, but a reaction to the person she loved enough to risk the fucking Amyrlin Seat for becoming a monster!

Do I wish they'd picked _any other direction for their relationship? Yes, yes I damn well do. There was plenty to play with for angst factor by having the coup go down as it does in the books: Moiraine not being there to save her when all Siuan wanted was more time together, for one thing. Moiraine needlessly obfuscating in front of Siuan and  the other Sisters in S1, when Leandrin already knew! about the Two Rivers folk. Thinking she was being canny, when all she did was get herself pointlessly exiled so she couldn't protect Siuan? Quite enough of an angst sandwich, thanks ever so, without this new development. But! if they were going to include this, Siuan reacted precisely as I would expect her to, given the context I've outlined above, not in some madly ooc fashion worthy of the tags descending into emotional abuse discourse.

[blinkpen]

originally i started rambling on a rb of the gfm posts but i wanted to keep the post succinct and thus more 'rebloggable' but i do still want to get even 5% of the feelings articulated and Out of me

every once in a while you just gotta go "This Reality Is Not Acceptable" and put yourself all in on one cause and not let up on it until it is done, to make sure at least one fact of that unacceptable reality, changes. at least one more tragedy avoided.

that is what i have chosen to do here.

the unacceptable reality is a genocide is unfolding, multiple genocides, actually, but i alone cannot stop that

the unacceptable reality is people are being slaughtered, starved, sick, losing their families, being driven from their homes, or wiped out entirely, but i alone cannot stop that

the unacceptable reality is a family is sick and needs help to climb out of this hell, among countess others, while the country i live in is paying for the weapons raining death upon them, with my tax dollars, against my will, against my voice, against everything i believe in. and they could die in the blink of an eye, or slowly through the sickness and stress. i cannot stop that either... but we can. collectively we can.

i'm not here to be superman, i just want people who need help, to receive that help, whatever it might take, from what means i have to try and make it happen, what means i have to convince others to be part of that collective help, what words can i weave, what whimsies can i withhold, to appeal to others' humanity?

if you live in america, you cannot even buy groceries without a few more pennies going towards the next bomb. we are made complicit in genocide against our will, but we are complicit nonetheless,

so it is by our will we must help those suffering by that complicity.

this is literally the absolute least i can do, that any of us can do

and as an artist, i am nothing without humanity, both literal, and conceptual. art exists to communicate the incommunicable; it is such a human thing, and for me, intertwined too close to my heart and mind to have it be unaffected by all i see and feel. we all have different relationships with art, but for me, it is such an extension embodying myself that i Cannot tune the world out from it, and if i am going to dedicate to a cause, my art will as well. my muse will not permit distraction; even if it means the art hibernates, and never wakes up the same as it did before, if at all.

you know that poem about the war planes needing to be silent, and all that.

i need the warplanes to be silent

i need human beings to live

i'd sooner let my art be cut short and never be seen again for as long as i live, than see the entirely preventable end of several real, human lives who should have never been put into this position to begin with.

i can't save everybody with my art, that much i accept, but maybe i can save at least a few people.

that is why i have chosen to do this. because i have to do something.

i refuse to be any more complicit than as complicit as i am forced to be by the vile engine of america for as long as i remain trapped within it, and the world trapped at its petulant, non-existent mercy.

[eldritch-spouse]

Okay okay okay okay! So, after you made that post about Santi offering a “fun time” up for the other members of the Clergy, I have to request of you at least a drabble (or maybe more?) of us having a threesome with Santi and Patches. I need to know how that would go down. Please and thank you!

-surgery anon

[*cracks knuckles* Finally, time to harass this bitch. Fem reader.]

TW: Scummy behavior, Patches is taken advantage of. (Though he doesn't regret it.)

" That's your plan? Really? " You look at the incubus, who is very clearly thinking with his smaller head, instead of the big one- As usual.

" But of course, Admin. " Santi grins, pacing back and forth inside the break room, which is currently empty save for you and the demon. " Patches won't deny an opportunity to have a drink with you, and if you down a Twister, he definitely will too! He's a lightweight on top of that, we'll have him in our hands in the blink of an eye. "

You hum, watching the large monster clearly excite himself just picturing it all going down. Santi has a point, alcohol makes Patches crumble in moments, he's perhaps the most whorish drunk you've ever seen in your life. And the dullahan knows this, which might make him hesitate to drink, but getting a personal invitation from you would trap him into it immediately. Plus, you're a lot more resistant to alcohol's effects than any monster here, due to Krulu's presence in your body. It's just a matter of waiting, guiding him somewhere adequate and having your way. Easy. Fun even.

You have decided to torture the dullahan again?

Yep. It'll be entertaining this time, you promise.

Well then, do not keep your higher waiting...

Absolutely.

" So- " You begin, interrupting Santi's fevered ranting about how much he's going to enjoy this and how well fucked the two of you will be by the end. " Tell me again, why are we doing this? " The question is nothing more than a tease and you both know it.

The incubus' tail wags and his eyes lid as he crowds you to the wall. " Because I'm going to make you two see stars, love. " He slurs, head dipping to lick the shell of your ear. " Mmm and I think it would be a fantastic bonding experience. "

Yes, that's about as much logic you'd expect from Santi. Still doesn't change the fact that some very base part of you is looking forward to this. And judging by the way the demon laps at his yellow chops, you know he can tell. You lean in, though instead of offering the kiss your coworker was looking forward to, you bite his lower lip and smack a heavy hand upon his ass.

" Oh! Admin-! " He moans out, ever the theatrical whore. " Little minx... I'll put you in your place. "

Your eyes roll on their own accord. You've tamed harder at the behest of your lord, the only challenge here is keeping up. Tsk. " Yes yes, get busy now, find us a room. " And with that, you head out to the ground floor.

[...]

Gallon is pleased to see you, perhaps because this is a relatively slow hour, and he can only rearrange his glasses so many times until boredom starts chewing through his nerves. " Admin, come to visit lonely old me? " The slime mocks, tendrils curling in delight.

" Nope. " A random stool is occupied.

" Heartless. Absolutely heartless. Frigid. I'm desolate- "

" And I'm thirsty. " You interrupt. " Get me two Willows barman. "

The Willow Twister. Quite like a number of other Clergy exclusive drinks, these special cocktails, served in a sort of "coupe" glass and featuring a gentle, pinkish hue, are a very popular product. Why? Well, put simply, they're nothing more than pretty-looking aphrodisiacs, tasty, elegant, expensive- The perfect gift that sends a very particular message, I wanna fuck you silly. Excuse the French.

Nonetheless, it's that pretty thing you're going to get for yourself and the lab rat. Because subtlety is not necessary for someone as desperate as the dullahan.

" Adventurous today, are we? " The bartender muses, already fetching the appropriate utensils. " I'm not sure whether to commend or pity the lost soul that has caught your eye. "

" You're supposed to be nosy with the clients, not your superiors. " You chastise. " Besides, I only have eyes for one, you know that. This is... A playdate. "

" Ah... I see. So, would it be right to assume- "

You clear your throat. " Keep asking questions and I'll throw Fank-e's glitter containers at you. "

Gallon flinches. " ...Noted. "

A little after that exchange, the Twisters are ready, gently placed in front of your stool. You shoo the bartender away, a little insistently, and fetch your phone, sliding into the direct messages of none other than the pumpkin munchkin himself. A single text is sent. "Head up to the bar," it says, "I miss when we talked. <3"

Too on the nose? Yeah, definitely. Will he still show up? Yeah. Definitely.

Such is confirmed when you hear the nearest elevator ding. That was fast. Oh, you can picture it now, Patches getting the message, throwing his papers away, making a mad dash out the lab with those goofy boots he's always wearing. Hilarious. Poor guy, he's been going through some weird phases lately.

We are partly at fault for such.

Well, yes. Is that bad? Should this be stopped?

Are you blind, lamb? He enjoys the game more than we do.

Fair. Plausible. True, probably.

That conversation will have to wait for later, because the subject of your mild pity is currently in front of you.

" A-Admin, miss! " He... He's standing by your side like some soldier. Is he going to sit on his own? You let a couple of silent seconds pass. Doesn't look like it. Hm, maybe you and your worship really have been taking it a little harshly on him.

" Have a seat, dear. " You begin, tapping the stool. A cheshire grins spreads on your cheeks. " I got us some drinks while I waited. "

It's in that exact moment that you get to bask in the dullahan's facial expression, that vegetable head that should never be able to emote yet manages to be more expressive than real flesh at times. He goes through a myriad of emotions in an amusingly quick span of time. Shock. Disbelief. Confusion. Doubt. Vulnerability. Acceptance and embarrassment. You're not a wraith, but maybe you're starting to understand why Nebul thinks certain emotions are so delicious. Patches does sit down, after gazing at the fancy drinks like a lost mule in a desert.

" You uh- Didn't have to... " He muses quietly, dragging the offer towards himself regardless. There's a faint glimmer of infatuated hope in those pinprick "pupils", something that almost tugs at your heartstrings, considering what you're about to do to him.

But then, you think, you do love him. You love all of them. Perhaps not in the same deep, overwhelming way you covet and desperately need your lord, but there is definitely a mildly possessive affection within you for every staff member, Patches included. It's a different form of love, perhaps not the one he wants, yet love nonetheless.

"Oh knock it off, tell me about your day already. "

Conversation unfurls, and while you had to metaphorically tug at the pumpkin man to get him to speak more rather than just make goo-goo eyes at you, it flows steadily, Patches easily drinking alongside you. Truth be told, you do get along with the dullahan, him you and Ludwig have history together, many are the situations that can be looked back upon fondly. The relaxing effects of the Willow Twister certainly help, causing you both to slump slightly, leaning into the other, tossing chaste flirts here and there. His face is colored a seaweed green so dark that you'd think he's getting ripe or something. You have a nice buzz going, though the bulk of the effects are lost on your very resistant metabolism.

" ... And we were thrown out the party because I let Ludwig use my head as a sangria fountain. Again. "

" Holy shit dude- " You wheeze. " Isn't that... Didn't that feel weird for you? " Patches opens his mouth, flushes darker, and closes it wordlessly. You look down, perhaps on reflex, spotting the way his legs cross on the stool. Ah, so he's cracking already. " Guess you've always been a hardcore slut, huh? This really is your place after all. "

Patches shudders visibly, lowering his hat and flashing you an unsubtle leer. " ... I think my place is beneath your heels. "

Heh. So he can dish them out too, what a pleasant surprise.

In the dead air of what essentially amounts to The Clergy's pre-rush hours, no one really notices you sliding a leg between Patches' own, nudging them apart. He lets you, making no effort to hide the twitching length pushing at his purple garbs. The monster man pants, expectantly, his empty glass indicating he's more than ready to get fucked out. And you, well, you've never been too good at keeping your hands off your sluts. So, without shame or hesitation, you cozy up to his stool and lower a hand to the monster's lap, petting his conundrum as if rewarding him for an appropriate reaction.

" I think you're right. "

Patches makes a weak, stifled moan. Though someone picks up on it, the bartender, which has been glancing at you two for a while now. You give the slime a side-glance that reads "mind your business", and he grins, turning away. " A-Ahn, Admin- I- " A very stressed, pleading look is tossed your way, and you know exactly what the dullahan is getting at.

See, a Twister heightens one's sensitivity, naturally. Which makes it really hard to stay quiet. And while you know that the one beside you wouldn't protest much if you chose to debase him in front of a (rather small as of now) crowd, this mock-hesitation is great for your end-goal. " Do you want help, Patches? "

" Mhm, y-yes. " Your hand lifts. " Yes please! " He finally corrects himself.

Time for the killing blow. " And what would you do for that help? " You make it a point to not let him think about the question too much, stroking his length with a lot more pressure, enough to make his hips roll subtly.

" Uhn- Anything! " He whispers.

Hah.

Idiot.

" Get up then. "

" H-Huh? " Cute. You hop off the stool, straightening your clothes and offering him a blatantly predatory grin that makes the dullahan probably second-guess his wording.

" Get up, I got us a place. "

[...]

Santi didn't warn you which room you'd be staying at, so you're going to assume it's the one he usually rents out at The Clergy. It's practically his anyway. Such is confirmed when you exit the elevator, hand wrapped around Patches' own gloved one, and the incubus' door swings open slowly. The thin monster is staring at you wordlessly, like you're a goddess amidst peasants, hard as a fucking rock. Maybe you should get him drunk on Twisters more, he looks downright adorable like this. Dumb little dork.

So intoxicated and infatuated is the pumpkin monster, that he doesn't notice you leading him directly inside the lust demon's room. It's a luxurious looking place, admittedly. All heavy tones of reds, blacks and golds. Laces and silks find their home here, along with an expensive, comparatively massive bed. It's just a tiny bit barebones aside from that, though it hardly matters for the activities that take place within it. Everything about this location evokes eroticism and taboo-ness, as if this were a little rabbit hole safe from all outside elements, an intimate safe space. Or is it just the incubus hormones all over it?

It's the sex demon hormones...

A couple of moments inside, and it seems the dullahan's brain is still sputtering in an attempt to function. " A-Admin, why are we- "

Whatever he's about to say is cut off abruptly by two burly black arms wrapping around not only the dullahan, but yourself as well. You're suddenly encased in a bear hug with the demon who owns said room, yelping in shock.

" Why there you two lovebirds are! I was getting so lonely in here... " The incubus purrs, dropping to place a kiss on both your heads. Patches' hat is quickly flicked off. You and the green monster are glued to the demon enough to feel a hard, barbed length poking at both your backs.

You toss your head back to get a better look at Santi, whose face is clearly flushed a nice red hue. More than he'd usually be in sexual circumstances. Guess he wasn't kidding when he said he was really looking forward to bedding you two. Fucking his coworkers has been in his bucket list for a while, you haven't forgotten his many hints. The demon winks down at you, causing the crux between your legs to pulse. Holy shit.

" S-Santi? But- But we're in the wrong room, what- "

Both you and the demon laugh loudly. " No love, this is the room. " Santi clarifies, moving to the dullahan's side, picking and prodding at his frankly impractical clothes. You can see the flicker of distaste on the demon's eyes as he struggles to find some sort of zipper on the other man's garbs. Dumbass.

You take the moment to soothe Patches, or rather, jab him into letting this happen. " Relax, we just want to help you, dummy. And maybe, you can help us out too, yeah? " It's easier to undo someone's clothes when your brain isn't microwaved into fucking constantly like Santi's, so you get the bulk of the dullahan's clothes off while he makes flustered vocalizations and squirms between the two of you.

" H-Help you? "

" Well, I haven't had dinner yet, Patchy... " The demon starts, groping the other through his tight pants now that the purple work covering is gone. Big fat lie, the incubus never skips a meal. But it works nonetheless.

" You don't want Santi to starve, do you? " There's a grin growing on your face when the dullahan just shakes his head bashfully, legs trembling at the other's firm pawing. You reward him with a kiss, the incubus quickly stealing one from you as well.

Then, you get to see something most curious, when Santi twists the other male's head towards him and allows a long tongue to not only trace at the rim of the green one's left socket, but also shoves it inside none too gently. Gross, invasive. Hot. Patches shudders and tenses, moaning. You're content to watch, until the demon looks at you through long lashes and makes an authoritative nod towards your clothed state. Right.

You've never taken your clothes off faster. Well, perhaps you have, when your higher needed urgent care- But fact of the matter is you're still undressing shamelessly fast right now. No bra today, just the laciest pair of black panties you had lying around, because you recall the demon enjoys those. And Patches, well as long as they belong to you, he'll enjoy them.

There's an approving grunt from the bigger monster, who easily tosses the dullahan onto your grasp after thoroughly drooling into his "eye socket". Patches pants, letting bare hands skim the curves of your body while Santi pulls the rest of his clothes off. It's your turn to be pawed at, tits rolled between heavy hands while a tail barren of its golden rings drags between your legs. You wish it were something else. Patches watches avidly, eyes trained on you, gulping, fingers twitching as if he wants to reach for himself but felt shy about it. You take the moment to make an exaggerated face of delight at him, leaning back into Santi's bulk.

Out of nowhere, a sharp sting of pain to your ass makes you spring upwards with a shriek. Ah, payback... Lord, that's a strong palm.

" Get on my bed. " It wasn't a suggestion.

You tug Patches along, throwing him onto the fluffed mattress first before pouncing on top, kissing at the flustered monster here and there while he throbs beneath you, squirming like the needy thing he is. Thin fingers rise to play with the dough of your rump, trying ever so subtly to make you grind on his length, but you deny him.

A horned shadow is cast over you two, there's no doubt that's Santi. And as soon as you toss your head back, he's there, leering down the same way Morell looks at the piglets in his warehouse, lapping at sharp yellow teeth. You can see it in those bright eyes, he's planning, tail swaying pensively. One can only wonder what type of obscenities must be going through that mind to make him bite his lip and drool precum like a faucet.

Funnily enough, he seems stumped. Like the demon didn't plan this far ahead, and getting you two in the same bed is already more than he expected out of the whole endeavor.

Why do you keep assuming he puts real thought into anything to begin with?

Great point.

You shift then, emboldened, kneeling on the demon's bed, taking his weeping length in hand and sparing him a look nothing short of mischievous. Santi purrs loudly while you pump him generously, appreciating the girth of him and the fluttering barbs on his underside. " What's the matter, big boy, cat got your tongue? "

The other chuffs, a claw rubbing beneath your chin teasingly. " Mmm, hard to speak with your hands on my cock, princess. "

You resist the urge to snort, slipping your index into the demon's slit, catching the way his eyes roll for a second. Hah. " Luckily for you, I can do the thinking for all of us. Get on. "

What you have in mind is nothing wildly out of bounds, something relatively normal to start the night off with. Your panties are tossed aside while Santi settles expectantly on the bed, making a show of dragging the dullahan closer to him so the two can grind at each other like the perverts they are. You cannot get any wetter. Nonetheless, distance is put between them as you weasel to be the center of attention, Santi blanketing your back and the magic caster in front of you.

" I can't... Fuck, I- I can't believe we're doing this. " Patches murmurs, trying to cover his flaming face.

The demon watches curiously while you ghost hands around the green monster's head, giving Patches a lewd and forceful kiss before popping his head off altogether. You can think of many ways to humiliate Patches like this if you wanted, letting Santi fuck his sockets, making him finger his own head-holes while he's getting fucked, there's endless possibilities! But for now, you settle that pumpkin head below you, strategically.

" Enjoy the view, pervert. " You jab, coaxing him to kneel so you can get a better look at his vine-adorned cock. Patches appears to understand what exactly he'll be viewing, as does the incubus, who makes an elated sound behind you.

" Ooh! Clever, we're birds of a feather, Admin. " Santi growls, spreading your cuntlips for the dullahan's eyes. You don't know what to make of that statement, though your capacity to pass judgement is greatly diminished as soon as two fingers are stretching you out. You groan in frustration, as does Krulu in the back of your mind.

" Get inside and fuck me already. "

Worrying about his size is pointless. You've welcomed siadar cock numberless times, Krulu has made sure that your guts can handle a good stuffing, stretching harmlessly.

The demon grins and moans, ecstatic. " Yes ma'am! " You're about to drop your lips around the green monster's shaft before the other interrupts. " One second, love... " A saturated pink curl manifests around Patches' cock, squeezing the base tightly before looping beneath the glans and apparently piercing into his urethra painlessly.

Still makes him keen beneath you though. " A-Ahn-! What- "

" Well sweetheart, can't have you blowing your load as soon as our lovely boss lady gets to work now, can we? " The demon purrs.

" Agreed. "

Watching the magic caster squirm is funny. Even funnier is hearing his gasp-turned-whimper the moment you kiss his cock, taking half of him into you without hesitation. Perhaps, if you weren't so horny, you'd take the time to tease Patches more.

Speaking of Patches, he's getting a great show, Santi's tip parked at your soaked folds, gently pressing in while you spread yourself further and mewl around the other. The moment Santi sinks in is marked by a disgustingly wet sound that rises color to your cheeks.

There's a hiss. " Fffuck me- Tighter than a first! "

Now that you just can't resist commenting on, lifting off Patches' dick with a lurid pop, playing with his balls as compensation when he predictably whines. " Do you say that to everyone you fuck? "

Santi coos, giving you a light piston forward. " Yes. Do I mean it? Sometimes. " You suppose it's not a baseless compliment, considering the incubus' size, most people must be tight for him. The demon bends to speak right into your ear. " Krulu gave you such a hot fucking pussy, I'd die happy buried in you, sweetheart. "

Oh? So your worship altered more than just your ability to stretch.

I only made you as irresistible as you deserve to be.

That alone makes you pulse hard around the bigger monster. It was such a visceral reaction that you're sure even Patches might have been able to see your clit throb from his position. Santi reacts by hilting inside you and drooling with his tongue out, a bestial sort of whore moan echoing from the two of you.

Aroused beyond measure, you resume taking care of the dullahan, forcing your throat to accommodate his entire length- Without much effort, though still a lot of gusto. One hand taps his thigh, encouraging him to move, while the other holds his own. Sappy handholding while you blow your coworker and get railed by a horndog demon... Such is your life. And you love it.

The drag of Santi's barbs across your walls is delicious in a way you fail to describe, making you flutter and buck for more. Each frantic little motion earning you a rumble of pleasure from above. " And they say you need more than one cock these days... " The demon snickers, proud of himself, his next thrust purposely deep and slow to make you feel every bump.

Lord fuck, you're gonna cum.

Several times, in fact. Make this worth my time, chosen.

Why, you'd never disappoint.

Apparently, your near-rhythmic moaning is driving someone wild. Patches, who has gone well past the point of orgasm and is keening desperately to the sight of you getting plowed, has lost all inhibition.

" Fffuck- Please! Ah- I c-can't take it! " He cries. You're willing to bet he's actually crying.

" Aww, really? Not even just a tiny bit longer? " Santi mocks, fucking into you hard enough to make your eyes roll back. You can hardly keep up on Patches.

" N-No! Just let me- Mmff- Let me cum! I'll f-fucking die. "

Dramatic whore.

No shit, he likes humiliating himself.

The incubus apparently cannot resist torturing him further. And honestly, who can? " That bad, love? "

" I ah- I need it! " The sounds he's making are pathetic enough that you almost feel bad. " I need it- Admin gh- Fuck! "

Through the growing pleasure, you buck particularly hard against Santi, telling him to let the poor loser blow his load already. He might actually lose his mind. Santi does not care, flicking your clit instead.

" Hmm, it does sound frustrating... " The demon grins, making it a point to take his time and showing Patches how much fun he's having buried inside you while the other has to watch, unable to so much as orgasm.

" S-Santi PLEASE- "

Those seem to be the magic words, because the incubus glues himself onto your body and grabs the back of your head, pushing it even harder against the dullahan, your nose mushed to his pelvis. Your eyes water, thoroughly stuffed from both ends, feeling the magic growth around Patches' length dissipate.

" Cum then, needy slut, we have a long night ahead of us. "

The green monster moans his relief, repositioning so he can fuck your face, Santi helping him along by bobbing you on the other's cock. It only takes a couple of frenzied bucks for Patches to howl loudly and cram himself as deep down your throat as he physically can, pulsing globs of seed into you. His pathetic look, the shameless noises, and the goosebump-inducing sensation of Santi licking the back of your neck in silent praise trigger your own climax.

Finally...

Shivering and tearing up, your sight falters for a moment as you rise to cry out, hearing your own worship groan in the back of your mind. It's a powerful orgasm, leaving you glazed and disoriented, only able to register Santi's cock still drilling into you, and the several ropes of cum Patches has unknowingly marked your face with.

Good job so far, lesser.

Krulu praises. Perfect, perfect, you're being good, you're being so good-

Suddenly, you're yanked up, hitting the incubus' back while he uses both arms to secure you, pistoning fast enough to bounce you. You only register shards of broken praise and obscene compliments, muddled brain focused on the feel of the demon's tongue cleaning the jizz off your face. His pace falters, and with a strained snarl, he hilts, caging you further. Santi moans and pants freely on the back of your head as a generous jet of lust demon cum fills you up.

Perhaps, if you had never slept with a big monster before, you would have been worried by the way your lower abdomen distends a bit.

As is, you can only giggle drunkenly, observing it squelch out of you whenever the rumbling demon rolls his hips. Patches' head stares up at you two, mesmerized in desire, though quickly stained by your mixed fluids. Hah, karma.

You're gently lowered onto the sheets, sprawling out in satisfaction and getting to see the incubus offer the same cleaning treatment to the dullahan before screwing his head back on. The sensation of thick, pearly cum oozing out of you is marvelous, and given it comes from a lustful demon, it'll only be a matter of minutes until the fluid revs you up again.

" C'mere... " You lazily invite the dullahan over for a cuddle.

Santi gets in the middle, holding you two to his chest, a very self-satisfied and smug grin on his admittedly handsome features. Huh, his tits do make for great pillows.

After a couple of blissful seconds, the demon hums. " So, on a scale of 'wow you're so hot' to 'I'll never fuck better', how would you two rate this experien- "

Immediate groaning.

" Santi no- " " Just shut up- "

[rdng1230]

More Ted Lasso Musings

Before I start let me say once again that this season has contained absolutely wonderful moments and is still a wonderful bit of light in a buuuuunch of darkness. Also spoiler warning.

Cool, so I've figured out what's bothering me this season and its that they're either showing us everything and telling us nothing, or showing us nothing (of actual character significance) and telling us everything. in the showing us everything and telling us nothing category we've got my love Keeley Jones. I feel like we've spent a massive amount of time at KJPR and I still feel like I'm scratching my head as to what they were trying to tell us. They've set Keeley up to be this incredibly competent and bright person, and when they give her her shot it all goes to shit. and I get it "you can't always get what you want" so says the song for this season's trailer, but I'm struggling to understand the thing that she got that she needed that she didn't already have. She had Rebeccas love and support, I mean she has Roy back but this does not seem like the show where the moral of a long story about her starting her own business is that she has her boyfriend back. I actually would love people's take on what you think we're supposed to get out of Keeley's storyline.

Onto the telling but not showing category we got my guy Nate the Great. He has been so totally short changed this season on his redemption arc. It is HARD to become a better person. It is HARD to admit you fucked up. It is HARD to turn against your own knee jerk insecurities and reactions. It is ESPECIALLY HARD to do that in an environment that is actively incentivizing you to act on those insecurities and reactions. So even though I absolutely believe Nate deserving and capable of these huge leaps forward in overcoming his own internal crap, I think we've completely sidelined that narrative of what's pushing him to actually take those huge leaps forward. At the end of season 2, it was clear Nate was really struggling, and I'm not gonna lie I hated the way he treated those around him, like Beard said it was "personal, and weird" but I also felt a huge amount of sympathy and compassion because no one gets that way without something horrible happening to them first. So when the last scene of season 2 happened and he was teased as this big time villain, I was sad, but not surprised. I expected him to get his redemption, but I also expected that to be a really difficult journey for him where he was likely going to get worse before he got better. So now we're in season 3 and he suddenly just makes all these huge leaps forward, they feel from out of nowhere, not because I don't feel like he's capable of it, but rather that should've been more difficult to do, and also it should've been a moment of great personal triumph for Nate! The way I think of it is imagine if Rebecca had just waltzed into teds office in season 1 and confessed about the sabotage with no context. Sure we would've believed her capable of it, sure we would've believed she deserved forgiveness, but we all would've been scratching our heads as to what made her have this reckoning within herself. they would've told us Rebecca changed instead of shown why and how she changed like what they're doing with Nate.

I actually think there's so many parallels between the relationship of Nate and Jade and the relationship of Roy and Jamie. Both Nate and Roy made stupidly bad and self destructive decisions around the end of last season. Both are in a low point in their emotional journeys, almost all of Nathan's emotional scenes have been with Jade while all of Roy's emotional scenes have been with Jamie. The thing is, that's not where their respective internal work really needs to get done? Nate already took the plunge and asked out Jade last season, and Roy already showed real vulnerability when he hugged Jamie after the thing with his dad (not that I think that means everything wrapped up with a shiny bow or anything, but just that each character has much bigger fish to fry in terms of character growth) I do think Nate and Jade have become really cute just as Roy and Jamie's scenes have felt ripped straight out of a fluffy fanfic. but do these scenes actually show us that Nate/Roy are getting better? We've already seen Nate being an absolute sweetheart with the women in his life who he loves, his mother, his niece (even if we didn't actually see her till this season it was clear that they had a very warm and positive relationship) and Keeley, so him being able to be vulnerable and open up with Jade is lovely, but not really that new of a territory. If we could just see Nate having a shift maybe with his coaching staff or the West Ham players, this would feel more meaningful because we saw him struggle way more with people he perceives as part of his own hierarchy structure. Its the same with Roy. We've seen Roy open up to Jamie in the past so their relationship, while fucking adorable, is not doing anything to address the real struggle inside Roy that he's ignoring. It would be way more meaningful to see Roy have moments where he chooses to have joy instead of running away. Instead we get scenes like where the sports pundit squad just says oh by the way Nate left West Ham, in the same way that Ms. Bowen says to Roy that he seems less stuck. Umm what? Since when? what happened? All tell and no show. Or showing only the least character growth relevant scenes and then just be like oh by the way they fixed it.

reblog and comment away because I'm interested in people's take on this.

[melanie-ohara]

I'm Not Here Looking For Absolution

Whumpuary2024, Day 13 - Prompt: "I didn't know where else to go."

Bo-Katan can't face the throne room today

AO3 Here

Bo-Katan touched down neatly at the top of the wide stone steps that led to the mouth of the Great Forge and stepped through the archway into the cavernous space. While she would normally remove her helmet immediately after landing, she kept it on as she approached the Armorer as a sign of respect. It hid her surprise when she saw pale green armour instead of red and gold.

"Mand'alor," the woman in front of her said, too stunned by her presence to salute for a moment. 

"Mand'alor," a second voice echoed, and Bo-Katan turned to see more mandalorians clap their fists to their armour in salute. 

It had been a long time since she had last visited, and what had been a single forge now had several other, smaller stations burning around the cavern. Each one was tended by a mandalorian, though not all wore helmets.

"At ease," she managed to say eventually, still scanning the helmets for the one she recognised. Finally, she spotted her - resplendent in dark red beskar and gold helmet, making her way casually towards her. 

"Armorer," she greeted, with a polite tilt of her head. 

Silently, she looked her up and down and then clapped her hands together to draw the attention of the apprentices. 

"Leave us," she instructed. There was a clatter as the mandalorians laid down their tools, and then they filed out until only Bo-Katan and the Armorer remained. 

"I didn't know you had taken on apprentices," Bo-Katan commented. 

The armorer turned to walk back to the central forge and Bo-Katan fell into step at her side. 

"Every city we reclaim, every settlement we found - all of the will require an armourer," she said proudly. 

Bo-Katan wished she had a fraction of her optimism. "Indeed," was all she said. 

The Armorer picked up her tools and returned to the smelter, where she was melting down and purifying beskar ore recovered from the armour of the Imperial Remnant troopers. Bo-Katan watched with her hands tucked behind her back. It felt right to be there. To witness the reclamation of something so important to her world.

"You may remove your helmet, Mand'alor," the Armorer said. "You need not wear it on my account."

Bo-Katan hesitated for a moment - she knew how tired she looked - but took it off and tucked it under her arm. The Armorer had no comment on her appearance, but Bo-Katan could feel her looking at the bags under her eyes even through her visor. 

"Have you come about your armour?" 

Bo-Katan frowned. "Is there something wrong with it?"

The Armorer paused. "Historically," she said, "the Mand'alor reforged their armour upon claiming the throne, to reflect their station."

Bo-Katan took an involuntary step back. Her armour had been with her since she was old enough to wear it, and the only changes it had experienced were changes in signet - Death Watch to Nite Owl to Mythosaur. The idea of watching it melt to nothing before her eyes was abhorent. 

"No," she said. "No, I haven't."

"You are meant to be in the throne room, to hear petitions," the Armorer observed. From someone else it might have felt like an accusation.

Bo-Katan shook her head. "I can't stand to be in there. Not today. To be honest, I didn't know where else to go." She laid her helmet down on a tool bench and perched against the edge of it with her arms folded. "Everywhere I look, I see the tragedy of our past. Pre Viszla, Maul, my sister…" she trailed off, remembering that night. Remembering Obi-Wan Kenobi stepping aboard his ship, lit by fire, and telling her he was so sorry. She shook herself. "And then the Empire. Saxon, Gideon, the bombing. My own failures."

The Armorer carefully poured molten beskar into ingot molds. "More mandalorians fell defending this forge than anywhere else," she pointed out. 

"The heart of our world," Bo-Katan mused. "It was the first place we fell back to, when Maul claimed the throne." Casually, she unfolded her arms and moved her hands to the edge of the tool bench so one of them was close to her helmet. "I've never asked," she said, "but those spikes you wear…"

The Armorer stopped what she was doing and visibly tensed. "Did you come here for a fight?" she asked. 

"Would that achieve anything?"

Slowly, she lowered the tongs she was holding and turned to face her. "I was too young at the time," she said. "My father took me to Concordia, but my mother stayed. When she was killed, I added the zabrak horns to my helmet to honour her."

Bo-Katan considered for a moment. There weren't many of Maul's servants left now: many had died in the Republic assault, and those that survived had been taken into custody by the clones or executed by the mandalorians. In all the chaos that followed, it would be impossible to verify her story.

"I thought you were older," she said at last.

"No, just wiser," the Armorer said with a smile in her voice. Bo-Katan relaxed again when she turned back to the forge, and she watched her work for a while in silence before either of them spoke again.

"Would you have killed me, had I been old enough to stand with my mother?" the Armorer asked. The only emotion Bo-Katan could hear in her voice was curiosity, but she had to wonder if it went deeper than that.

"At the time? Yes," she admitted. "But look where division got us."

"Indeed," the Armorer said. 

Bo-Katan rubbed her forehead and then pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and middle fingers, squeezing hard enough to hurt. "I don't know what to do," she said softly. For a moment, she wondered if the Armorer had even heard her, but when she lifted her hand to look she saw her looking at her with her head cocked and her arms folded in expectation. 

"Maul used our neutrality to stage a coup," Bo-Katan said. "The Republic used Maul to stage an invasion. Thanks to me. And then the Empire used our division to wipe us out." She shook her head. "No matter what we do, someone finds a way to exploit us."

"And we always survive," the Armorer said. 

"Is that anything to be proud of?" Bo-Katan argued, standing up straight now that anger was taking over. "We're reduced to squabbling amongst ourselves. I went from the leader of the Nite Owls, scourge of Imperial space, to a tired old woman rotting in an empty castle."

"Now you're the Mand'alor," the Armorer reminded her. She walked up to Bo-Katan and laid her hand on the shining silver beskar pauldron that she had crafted herself. "You united us, Bo-Katan. The most divided mandalorians that have ever been now work side-by-side in this forge. Of that, I am most proud."

The Armorer lowered her head and pressed the top of her helmet lightly to Bo-Katan's forehead in a gentle keldabe kiss. The show of familiar affection was so unexpected that soft 'oh' of surprise escaped Bo-Katan's lips before she could stop it, and she was close enough to hear the Armorer's breath hitch a little inside her helmet. Bo-Katan wished she could put her own back on and hide the blush blooming on her cheeks, but it was too late. The Armorer took a step back out of her personal space, and cleared her throat.

"Perhaps you would allow me to match your pauldron to the rest of your armour, now that I have access to the appropriate pigments," she said. 

Bo-Katan nodded stiffly and straightened up. "Yes," she said, as flatly as she could manage. She reached across with her right hand to unclip the armour and winced slightly as it disconnected.

"Are you hurt?" the Armorer asked, hesitating a little before she took the pauldron from her. 

"It's nothing," Bo-Katan said. "A bruise, from sparring yesterday." 

'Sparring' was a slight misnomer - she had armed Axe and Koska with wooden staffs and strict instructions not to hold back. It had been more of a ritualised beating than an actual fight.

The Armorer seemed satisfied for a moment, but as she selected the pigments from her collection she looked back at Bo-Katan. "The beskar I used was the finest quality outside of the home system," she said. "You should have been invulnerable."

Bo-Katan rolled her shoulder, a little embarrassed. She never knew how to approach subjects like this with the people she still privately considered zealots. "I wasn't wearing it. Any of it, I mean," she said. 

The Armorer didn't move for a moment, and then turned back to her workbench. "I see," she said.

"Forgive me," Bo-Katan said, and was surprised by the fervour in her own voice. "It is not the Way, I'm sure."

"You have taught our people that there are many ways to be a mandalorian, Bo-Katan," the Armorer said, carefully tracing the mythosaur signet with black paint to match the Nite Owl on her other shoulder. 

"But?" Bo-Katan prompted. 

The Armorer shrugged the arm that wasn't busy painting. "My beskar is my skin. To remove it for combat is akin to death itself."

"That's… poetic," she said. 

The Armorer made a sound like laughter, and set aside the black paint. "Armour is only removed for lovers," she said.

Bo-Katan stepped a little closer, to watch her pass her airbrush over the pauldron, slowly turning it the same blue as the rest of her beskar. "But not the helmet?" she asked.

"The helmet stays on," the Armorer said, so seriously that Bo-Katan couldn't decide if it was a joke or not. She wondered if she'd ever find out. Then she caught herself thinking about it and had to step back from the workbench again. 

She waited quietly until the Armorer had finished, resting one hand over the bruise on her shoulder that the pauldron would cover. Koska had inflicted it: Axe had knocked her legs out from under her and she had brought her staff down on her arm while she tried to stand up. She gave her a kick in the head in return, but her boot had bounced off her helmet without slowing her down.

"There," the Armorer said, and stepped into Bo-Katan's personal space to re-attach the now matching pauldron. 

"Thank you," Bo-Katan said, and then, before she lost her nerve; "you know, for us apostate mandalorians, a keldabe kiss is usually reserved for lovers." 

The Armorer didn't look up from the pauldron, but her hand slid down to Bo-Katan's elbow. "It is the Way," she said softly. 

Bo-Katan swallowed, and then touched her forehead to the Armorer's. She knew that all that she could see through her visor now was her eyes, and she hoped she was looking into them.

"Come," the Armorer said, and took her hand.

[random-mailbox]

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 33 - Friends

Friendships are some of the most important things in any person's live. In some cases, friends become more important than our actual families to us. In these stories, we get to see these connections shine.

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Sillage - @floraone

In this port Stars (anime) one shot, Mamoru who is thrown off by everything he seemingly missed while being gone, goes to see Rei to actively not ask what had happened when he wasn’t there. Rei though, being a great friend, fills in the silences and points a few important things out. 

Would You Like To Date My Friend, Chiba Mamoru? - @floraone

Although Usagi found one Mamoru Chiba absolutely gorgeous, she managed to convince herself that Ami would be a much better fit for him, going out of her way to set up their date. In her end of chapter notes, @floraone mentioned that there was another part to this story - and I would absolutely love an epilogue of sorts, even if it is 3.5 years later.

Save the Hero - @my-crazy-awesome-socks

Usagi is struggling with some of the decisions she was about to make during her battle with Galaxia and cannot seem to shake the feelings of regret and fear. That is until she opens up to Motoki about what has been weighing on her the most. 

Miraculous Musings: Vignettes of a Miracle Romance: Chapter 27: charm - @goddessalthena

Usagi's way of coping with the post-Galaxia world is making life challenging for Mamoru and her friends. Eventually Mamoru brings himself to ask why, convincing her that nothing needs to change when it comes to him at least.

Commencement - @goddessalthena

This was the first story I had thought of when coming up with this list. I absolutely love the thoughtfulness and the friendship between these two, which rarely gets the spotlight. To commemorate Makoto's graduation, Mamoru makes sure that she doesn't feel like he did during his.

Dreamweave -@ellorgast

In this one-shot, Mamoru tries to help his newly awakened Shittenou deal with their nightmares, at least one night, potentially misusing his Golden Crystal.

"Oh, Is He Your Brother?" - @riverlethe9

Usagi inadvertently gets pulled into a confession from another girl to Mamoru. Confessor then proceeds to treat Usagi like dirt, earning ire from both Motoki and Mamoru. 

These Games We Play: Chapter 5: Treasure of the Moon - @allyunabridged

In this one shot, Usagi drags Rei out to a secluded beach on a hunch, searching for hidden treasure.

---

That's it for this week. Here is the schedule for upcoming May posts with input from a few awesome people in the fandom (potentially a little Mamoru heavy but I am sure @caelenath won't mind 😜)

May 1 - Body Swap

May 8 - Medical Assistance

May 15 - Sex Pollen

May 22 - Psychometry

May 29 - What If

Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post) - I will keep updating the list every week as new posts come up:

Week 1 - Groundhog Day

Week 2 - Established Relationships

Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Week 4 - Unfinished Stories

Week 5 - Darker Stories

Week 6 - Potions 🧪

Week 7 - Reveals

Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃

Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions

Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Week 11 - In-Progress Fics

Week 12 - Mutual Pining

Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers

Week 14 - Slow Burn

Week 15 - Christmas Part 1 - Ugly Christmas Sweaters and Santa!

Week 16 - Christmas Part 2

Week 17 - New Years

Week 18 - High School AU

Week 19 - Slice of Life

Week 20 - Coffee shop AU

Week 21 - Huddle for Warmth

Week 22 - Friends to Lovers

Week 23 - ❤️Valentines Day❤️

Week 24 - Do a Grouch a Favour Day (or Cheer Up Fics)

Week 25 - Soulmate AU

Week 26 - Amnesia Fics (and resources)

Week 27 - 🍀St Patrick's Day🍀

Week 28 - Fix it Fics

Week 29 - Prompt: Mug

Week 30 - Flowers

Week 31 - Traditions

Week 32 - Dreams

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 6: Mouthfeel

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

TW: awkwardness, some minor nudity, mentions of suicide (not graphic), Simone is a bitch in this chapter, slightly mentions of smoking and drugs, language, mentions of past criminal activity, slight cliffhanger.

Sorry about the late update y'all! I had a rough day yesterday and just didn't have the time to finish editing. Please enjoy! 🥰

Jake’s warm jacket draped over my shoulders as we walked up the beach house steps in silence. Neither of us really knew what to say at this point. What do you say following a near-death experience and a mutual trauma dump? With each step, I left a puddle of water behind me and mentally cursed myself for being stupid enough to jump into the ocean wearing the only pair of jeans I had in that old bag.

I swung the door open and did my best to ignore the fact that Jake was now not only fully aware of my raging mommy issues but was also stepping into the threshold of where those issues were mostly forged. Glass crunched beneath my feet. Right… There’s also that. “Uh, don’t fall. There’s glass everywhere down here.”

“Yeah, looks like you had quite the rager,” Jake mused quietly. “Need help cleaning it up?”

“No,” I replied, laying his jacket over the back of the couch. “I never clean up while I’m here. She can hire someone to do it when she comes back.”

He nodded, slowly moving through the living room and taking in the sight. “Looks like no one has been here for months.”

“Yeah, we moved around a lot for her business stuff. She doesn’t come here much anymore. Guess it wasn’t as fun without a kid to throw in the ocean.”

Jake chuckled at my poor attempt to ease the tension and kicked the empty bottles of booze. “Think you broke my bender record for the most amount of alcohol consumed.”

“Shut up.”

He looked at me, eyeing my still trembling, soaked form. “You should get changed.”

I nodded. “A great idea. Sadly I don’t exactly have a ton of spare clothes on hand.”

He replied with a barely restrained grin, “We’re both adults. A little nudity never hurt anyone.”

“You’re funny,” I responded, grabbing my bag from the kitchen counter to search my options. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. “Fuck.”

Jake clicked his tongue. “Looks like we’re in for an interesting night.”

With a sigh, I turned to face him. “No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “But it’s a bit dark out now, and I’d hate to get caught wandering these dangerous streets at night.”

“Well, we both know how easy it’d be for you to get your ass kicked.”

“Absolutely. So, what’s the plan?” His smile grew unbearably wider as he raised a brow, drawing his eyes down the length of my body. “You wanna go first, or should I?”

I scoffed. “Do you really think I’m that easy?”

“If you were easy, I would’ve fucked you months ago, princess.” Jake took a step forward, relying on the play he always seemed to. Close the distance and force them into a corner to let the lack of space do all the work. And just like every time he’d tried it before, Jake was met with my body’s solid, unflinching mass.

“Really?” I asked quietly, deliberately keeping eye contact with him. “How many times have you tried this move?”

“A lot,” he admitted. “Though I’m not exactly complaining about how you respond to it.”

I set a hand on his chest and shoved him back. “Here’s the deal, I don’t have any dry clothes, and you don’t have any dry clothes. There’s a dryer in the upstairs bathroom. So you are going to shower because you smell like an old woman scrubbed you down with shitty ocean febreeze.”

“Not going to join me?” He asked flirtatiously.

“No. I will set up the bedroom for the two of us to sleep in. SLEEP in, no funny business.”

“I’d hardly call it funny-”

“Jake.”

He raised his hands with a smirk. “Alright, alright.”

I shook my head. “When you’re done, wrap a towel around your ass, and you can get in bed while I put our clothes in the dryer and shower. If you so much as try and peek, I’ll toss you in the ocean.”

“I kinda like it when you boss me around,” Jake replied with a wink. “Gonna give me a quick tour, or should I just start opening doors?”

Though his comment made my heart skip a beat, I rolled my eyes at him and led the way up the stairs and into my old room. I kept my head down as I showed him to the bathroom, trying as best I could not to let the belongings that had once been mine drag me back down. “Leave your clothes by the door, and I’ll grab them and put them in the dryer.”

He looked around the small bathroom, carefully snooping through the slightly dusty scene. “Last chance to join me. We could save some water.”

“Leave your shit by the door,” I replied, closing the bathroom door behind me as I set the bed.

The shower turned on after a minute or two of silence, allowing me a few minutes to breathe. I stood in the middle of the room, shivering slightly as I stared at the bare walls and the dusty surfaces that held one or two small trinkets. Nothing here was important… None of it was even real. The picture frames were empty, the ribbons and trophies held no memories of joy or any feelings of accomplishment, and none of the small trinkets I’d collected in my time here meant anything. 

This room was a tomb, a cage, a place haunted by the sons of a child and the endless stream of voices telling her she was not enough. I could practically see her bent over the desk by the window, desperately studying and afraid to look out the window. Afraid to watch the world and everyone in it pass by. You are enough, I wanted to tell her. You were always enough. But I knew she couldn’t hear me. I knew the past was set in stone. All her suffering and all her doubts and fears they’d already happened.

My hand settled against my shoulder, settled against the chilled skin marred by the hideous scar. I smoothed my fingers over it for a moment before snapping myself out of pity and regret of the past. Then, stripping the bed of its dust-covered blankets and sheets, I beat them out as best I could before putting it all back together. It smelt terrible, but it’d have to do. I shoved a few pillows in the middle, dividing the bed in half as the shower stopped.

Jake emerged from the bathroom with a towel hanging lowly on his hips, and his exposed chest glistened with leftover water. His arms were covered with dark tattoos, ones I didn’t get to look at closely before he leaned against the doorframe with a smile. “Left or right?”

“What?” I asked, quickly looking away from his chest to finish the bed.

I could practically feel Jake’s joy as he chuckled. “Do you prefer to sleep on the left or right?”

“I don’t really care either way,” I insisted.

He walked across the room and sat down on the left side, bouncing on the bed slightly before throwing his legs up and lounging back on the pillows. “I’ll take the left then.”

His smirk was unbearable as I turned and headed toward the bathroom. “Don’t fuck up the pillows.”

I tossed his wet clothes in the small dryer before stripping myself and adding my own to the machine. My whole body ached from swimming, and my head pounded. The hot water was a quick blessing, one that ran out quickly. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as the cold water stung my back. “Holy fucking shit!”

There was a soft knock at the door. “You alright in there?”

“You used all the hot water, asshole!” I hollered.

Jake chuckled. “Oops.”

“I swear to god I’m going to kill you.”

“That’d be pretty fucked up, considering I just spent my night saving your ass.” There was a pause before he spoke again, “Want me to join you? I’m sure we can find a way to heat the place up.”

“Open that door, and I’ll shove my foot all the way up your ass!”

His laugh, muffled by the door, still sent a shiver up my spine. No, I insisted. It’s just from the water. “Well, enjoy your cold shower then.”

“Dickhead.”

I was shivering when I’d rinsed the salty stench of the water off myself. I wrapped myself in a towel and turned the light off, quickly moving to my side of the bed and getting beneath the covers while Jake smiled at me over the pillows between us. He held his head up in his hand, resting on his elbow to watch me. “You know you’d be a lot warmer if we were closer. You know, body heat and all.”

I rolled my eyes and glared over at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I’m just saying, it’s awfully cold.”

“You’re always welcome to warm yourself up downstairs with all the glass.”

Jake laughed, the movement shaking the bed slightly as he moved to settle down first the night. “Fine, I’ll keep my warm body on my side then.”

“Go to sleep.”

He was quiet for all of twenty seconds before he spoke again, “Can I ask you something?”

I groaned quietly, glaring at him even harder over the pillows barricading between us. “What part about “go to sleep” do you not get?”

“Come on, princess, indulge me a little.”

“I think I’ve indulged you more than enough.”

Jake smiled at me, the moonlight casting across the side of his face and making that dumb grin of his glow. “I’m insatiable, what can I say?”

“What do you want to ask?”

“You told me about your mom. About what happened back then.” Anxiety consumed every inch of me as I kept breathing in and out.

“And?”

“You never told me why you were out there tonight.”

My jaw clenched as I thought about what to say. Why had I gone out there tonight? Why had I chosen to leap off a boat into the fucking ocean? “I…” I sighed. “I was pretty shitfaced.”

Jake saw straight through the deflection. “Were you… Was this some kind of… attempt?”

That fear I’d seen in his eyes as he leaned over the side of the boat and begged me to take his hand was back, shining brighter now as it looked like he held back tears. “No,” I whispered, reaching over the barricade to squeeze his hand. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

His eyes closed tightly as he squeezed my hand back. “Good. That’s good.”

Was that why he was still here? Did he think I’d jump back in the water the second he was gone? Clearing my throat, I pulled my hand back and settled into the covers, trying to regain a sense of separation from him. “No more questions til we’re both back in New York.”

“Oh?” He chuckled. “Will I get more than four next time?”

“Maybe,” I answered. “If you shut up and go to sleep.”

“Keep talkin like that, and I’ll be up all night, princess.”

I rolled my eyes before closing them tightly. “Stop calling me that.”

“Not a chance.”

“God, you’re annoying,” I teased with a smile.

Jake laughed. “It’s all part of my charm.”

*

Jake tossed and turned for a while before settling on his back, blinking the sleep from his eyes to stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. The ceiling of Lena Harrow’s old bedroom. The night’s events returned to him like a freight train as he quickly turned to look over the pillows where Lena had been sleeping. For a moment, he was worried she’d be gone, worried she’d wanted until he was asleep to sneak back out onto the water. That all melted away at the sight of her bare back glowing in the morning light.

Her red hair pooled over the pillow she buried her head into, and the bed shifted ever so slightly with each deep breath she took. Jake sighed before his eyes wandered down the smooth skin exposed to him. Her spine was decorated with a large tattoo, a snake shedding its dark, dull skin to reveal new pearlescent scales. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers along the gorgeous piece of art and trace the lines of her tattoo as well.

The same sensations he felt the day before rose to the surface. God, she’s perfect. Everything about her spoke to him, drawing him in like no one he’d ever known. She shifted slightly, making a soft noise that sent a wave of heat through him like damn lightning. He slid out from beneath the covers, careful to not jostle the bed and wake her up, though it was tempting just to see how she’d react to seeing his bare ass. If last night told him anything, she’d enjoy what she saw, just like she had when he exited the bathroom.

The room was void of the life and attitude that he knew Lena to have. The walls were painted a dull white, probably some pretentious name like eggshell or cream of some bullshit. There were no posters or pictures, no artwork, only photos of generic art that looked like it belonged in a hotel rather than a room. Trophies and ribbons hung from a few shelves, all for competitions he couldn’t imagine Lena enjoying. Mathematics, spelling, science, music… It wasn’t her. That was the point, though, wasn’t it? “I wasn’t like this back then.” He hadn’t known what she meant then, but he sure as hell did now. If this was the mold she’d been forced into as a kid, it was likely a hard thing to break out of. Jake looked back towards her, still sleeping beneath the covers, and felt sad. 

He didn’t get the normal childhood that other kids did. When he was younger, he hated them because of it. Hated everyone he came in contact with that had parents show up at recitals or parent-teacher conferences. Seeing this… Seeing how she had lived, been treated, and been put through for the first time, Jake considered that maybe she’d been right that night in the hall. Maybe he wasn’t the only one that had it bad. A dead mom was better than one that hated who you were so much she threw you in the ocean.

Jake had done his best to help the redhead out after the boat, but this situation was uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to act or what to say… and he really didn’t want to fuck this up. Lena’s trust and faith in him made him feel good. It made him think that maybe, just maybe, he could be the guy she thought he was, the guy Simone always wanted him to be. Dependable, honest, hardworking, selfless… Everything he felt he’d lacked.

Lena shifted again with another soft noise that made his mind go blank. If that’s how she sounds while she’s sleeping, just imagine how- He shut the thought down quickly and slipped into the bathroom to check on his clothes and to get some distance from her beautiful, naked, unholy sounds. His underwear and pants had dried nicely, but the shirt he’d worn along with Lena’s things was still damp. Jake restarted the machine and dressed as much as possible before quietly heading downstairs.

*

Waking up in the stiff musty bed felt like waking up years ago. It was unsettling how I lay there for a moment, waiting for her to come pounding on my door or even just waltz inside, uninvited to scold me for not getting out of bed fast enough. What was more unsettling was the silence. I turned, rolling face first to a wall of pillows that barred me from the other side of the bed. What the fuck? I peeked over at the unmade half of the bed, the used pillow, and the towel on the floor. It was then that I realized I hadn’t been dreaming about the insane events that occurred last night. I’d gotten drunk, drove a boat, and jumped into the ocean. Crazier than that was that Jake had found me… found me and stayed the night.

I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I recalled the way he snored loudly beside me, the way his feet and arms would ignore the pillows between us to seek out the person in bed beside him. Whether it was intentional or not, I didn’t know, but I wagered it’d be amusing as hell to find out. The room was empty. Jake must’ve grabbed his things and left before I woke up. I sighed, stretching the sleep from my limbs before making my way to the dryer to pull on the newly dried, still-warm clothes inside. My eyes were still heavy from sleep, and my head was pounding from the fun hangover I knew would be haunting me today.

I put my shoes back on and went downstairs to find some kind of medication or food before heading back to New York. Glass crunched beneath my feet as I turned toward the kitchen and stopped in my tracks. Jake was there, looking through cabinets and examining the boxes of expired food that no doubt was still inside. Just like last night, my eyes went to his tattoos. I couldn’t make out what most of them were from here, but I admired them nonetheless… them and the lean muscle of his exposed back and chest as he moved.

“Gonna stand there and stare at me all morning?” He asked, blue eyes flashing with that self-assured smug attitude of his.

“I thought you went home,” I deflected, moving to join him in the kitchen. “Why are you shirtless?”

Jake’s eyes shifted to look down at my chest, not unusual for him, though the way his lips curled into even more of a shit-eating grin should’ve been a warning. “Were you wanting me to peel it off your back or what?” I looked down at the t-shirt I’d grabbed from the dryer, his t-shirt. “I’m not opposed, of course, but there are far easier ways to ask me to strip you.”

I ignored how my face heated up at his words and shook my head. “I was still half asleep when I got dressed.” I turned back toward the stairs, pulling the shirt over my head and tossing it behind me. My shirt was stuck in the very back of the machine when I pulled it out and hissed, “Traitor.”

Jake was waiting in the living room, his shirt back on as his eyes scanned over the words of a book he’d found. He glanced up at me. “You could’ve kept mine, you know. We could’ve switched. 

“I think it would’ve been a bit of a tight fit on your end.”

“I could just walk around shirtless more. You seem to enjoy that.”

I scoffed and moved around the room, quickly packing what little I’d brought back into the bag I had brought. The tension in the air seemed to grow as the silence was weighed down by all that had been said between us. I cleared my throat. “Sorry, there’s not anything to eat here. I would’ve offered to make you shitty eggs or something.”

Jake chuckled, closing the book and setting it down where he’d found it. “As great as shitty eggs sound, I was thinking we could stop by a diner. It’s not far, and it’s usually not too busy.”

“Grumpy’s?”

“Yeah,” he smiled a bit, “I keep forgetting you lived here too.”

“It’s easy to forget,” I replied, nodding toward the door. “We can take the bike. I’ve gotta get going in a bit if I want to get back to the city before dark.”

“You’re leaving today?”

“Yeah,” I pulled my phone out of my bag and played the beginning of the thirty messages everyone had left me.

“Lena, you’d better fill that gas tank up before bringing my bike back!” Dom.

“Hey, fucking bitch, call me - us, I said US! Put that shoe down, Prue, I swear to God!” Quinn and Prue.

“Call me darling. You don’t have to talk. I just wanna know you’re safe,” Ozzy said.

“Lee,” Peter’s voice made a new wave of guilt hit me. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. Is everything okay?”

“Hey, shithead! Break another of those racks, and I will break your face! Sorry bout that, Lena,” Patrick said clearer into the speaker. “I know that was a lot… just call someone. Please. We’re starting to get worried.”

Jake looked at his feet as I closed the phone and shoved it back into my pocket. “Sounds like you’ll have a hell of a welcome home party.”

“More like a welcome home mob,” I replied.

“A mob is better than nothing,” he said quietly.

“Yeah.” I held his jacket out to him. “Here.”

He looked at it for a minute before shaking his head. “You wear it. It’s cold out today.”

“If it’s that cold, you’ll freeze without it.”

“I’m not the one that almost got hypothermia last night,” he responded with a winning grin. “Wear it.” 

I rolled my eyes and put it on. “Fine then.”

Locking the door behind me, the chilled gust of wind made me grateful that Jake had insisted I wear his jacket. I’d never openly tell him that; glancing back at the already too-smug look on his face, I shook my head. Nope. Never telling him that. He nodded toward the bike. “So this wasn’t the first time you stole a bike?”

“Nope,” I answered, pulling the keys out. “Dom freak out after I left?”

Jake shrugged. “Eh, he was more frustrated than anything.”

I nodded. “Yeah, well, considering how many times I’ve stolen this bike, I can’t blame him.”

“How many times have you stolen this bike?”

“Fifteen, maybe more.”

He whistled. “Damn, you’re kind of a criminal.”

I laughed and shrugged. “At least I’m a cute criminal, though.”

Jake laughed. “So, how are we doing this?”

“You ever been on a bike before?”

“Once,” he replied. “Wasn’t on it for long before Simone pulled me off, though.”

Swinging my leg over the side, I held the helmet out to him with a smile. “Newbies get the helmet.” He scoffed but put it on anyway. “Now, you just get on and hold on.”

His taller frame settled in behind me, keeping a vast distance between us. I laughed and took hold of them, placing them around my waist. “You’re gonna want to hold onto me.”

“I’ll take your word for it, princess.”

The bike came alive beneath us, and as we started to drive, I could feel a part of Jake come alive too. He laughed behind me, bright and full and childlike. It was a side to him I didn’t even know existed, but I enjoyed it, no matter how short-lived. Grumpy’s wasn’t far from my mom’s house, and Jake seemed to be almost disappointed by that as I found a place to park on the sidewalk, and we got off the bike. He pulled the helmet off and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Next time I steal the bike, I’ll be sure to invite you.”

“Sounds like fun,” He replied, holding the helmet.

I set it down on the seat and clipped my bag to the front. “You’re buying.”

“Am I?”

“Think of it as payment for all the cigarettes you bummed off me.”

He shrugged. “I guess that’s only fair.”

We sat across from one another in a booth close to the windows so I could keep an eye on my things. Jake ordered waffles while I ordered pancakes, which led us to a quick debate on which was better, but once we’d grown quiet, that same awkwardness and tension settled over the table. Fuck it. “So, last night was kind of crazy.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “It was.”

“I…” I looked up and met his gaze. “I’m sorry for putting that all on you. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

Jake’s brows furrowed slightly. “I don’t mind. I was the one that asked.”

“Would you have asked if you hadn’t had to pull me out of the ocean?”

“Eventually,” he assured me. “Don’t apologize for that. Not to me.”

I smiled, “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you-”

“You would have been okay,” Jake interrupted. “I don’t… Let’s not talk about that.”

Right, his mom… I mentally cursed myself. “Okay, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

I rolled my eyes and smirked. “Sorry.”

Another minute of silence passed between us before Jake spoke again, “I’m not gonna tell anyone if you were worried about that.”

“Not even Simone?”

“No, not even her. Though if you were looking for someone to help with that kind of thing, she’d be willing.”

I shook my head, playing with my fingers beneath the table. “I’m sure she would.”

Jake frowned. “She’s good at helping with stuff like that. I know I’ve said it before, but it’s true. When I moved in with her family, she was all I had. She basically raised me.”

“Alright, let’s make a rule. No more talking about Simone. I understand she’s a big part of your life and that you’re, you know, whatever, but my opinion isn’t going to change, and I have a feeling our friendship isn’t going to last long if we’re constantly fighting over our opinions of Simone.”

“That’s fair,” he answered as the server placed our plates in front of us. “I’m still gonna argue with you about waffles, though.”

“Fair,” I replied. “But if you’re planning on getting into a debate over breakfast foods with me, prepare to lose.”

He cut into his waffle. “You’re that confident?”

“Absolutely,” I said, stuffing my mouth full of pancakes and making an exaggerated sound.

The longer I spent around Jake, the more I enjoyed his company. He didn’t make any faces or comments about how messily I ate; no matter how curious he was about my past here, he kept it to himself. Though he was undoubtedly an asshole, Jake wasn’t too bad. I finished my pancakes, and he finished his waffles, so the two of us just sat there talking about stupid stuff before the door opened, and Jake’s eyes darted toward it with a sigh. “There you are!”

“Simone,” he replied, shifting in his seat to make room for her. 

She slid in beside him, not even looking over at me while she frowned at him as she set his phone down. “You left this at the house. I’ve been worried!”

“Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked,” he said, glancing over at me. Simone finally turned her head, and her mouth fell open slightly. Then, with wide eyes, she composed herself.

“Lena,” Simone said with a taut smile. Her eyes were wider than usual as they fixated on the black jacket, Jake’s jacket, that hugged my shoulders and encased me in the smokey and woodsy scent. “I didn’t know you were in Cape Cod.”

I smiled, somewhat gladdened that Jake hadn’t told her. “Yeah, it was a last-minute trip.”

She hummed, her eyes shifting to Jake, whose face had drained of his usual charismatic glow and was now replaced with a nervous look that made his whole face seem tight and tense. “So this is what you got up to last night.”

“Simone,” Jake started with a sigh as she sat beside him.

“It’s fine,” she answered with a broader smile that didn’t even try to reach her eyes. “I’m sure it was something significant that kept you from coming home last night.”

Tilting my head to the side, I shrugged. “That’s on me, actually. My bike broke down by the beach, and Jake happened to see me. He offered to help, which took much longer than it should have.”

Her eyes practically drank up the lie as she pursed her lips. “Sounds like you were fortunate Jake was around.”

“I was,” I answered, looking back over at Jake. He knew the truth, and that was what mattered, so I shoved down the part of me that worried that truth would be exposed to Simone’s all too eager ears the second I left them alone.

Jake watched Simone closely as she ordered, his forehead creasing when she’d gotten a beer over coffee or water. He could tell something was off with her, and though it was pretty obvious even to me, Jake seemed to pick up on it more than I could just from the small things she said and did. My stomach churned uncomfortably at the sight of them. Was this what it had looked like to everyone else? I wondered, darker memories simmering just below the surface. Was it this obvious that something was wrong between us? 

“So, what brings you to the Cape?” Simone asked as she settled into her seat beside Jake.

“It’s a personal matter,” I answered without hesitation and without apology. “Not really something I’d feel comfortable burdening a coworker with.” The message was clear. Move on.

She looked far too smug about the response as she nodded. “I understand personal matters can be quite difficult to navigate. But we’re always available should you need someone to help you find your way around. Jake and I grew up here, after all.”

I smiled, trying my best not to laugh at her apparent scramble to find a foothold that would tether me to her and force me to rely on her as Jake and so many others at 22West did. “I’m not staying, but thanks for the offer.”

Jake watched her as she took a long drink of her beer, worry solidifying on his features. “You’re leaving so soon?”

“Oh, I’ve been here for days,” I answered.

“Really? Where have you been staying?” Jake nudged her slightly, an apparent attempt to dissuade her from pressing questions, one that failed as she giggled softly. “Sorry, it’s just I know how difficult finding a decent hotel can be around here. I wouldn’t want you to have trouble sleeping because the bed is too lumpy or the place reeks of dead fish.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry, though,” I adjusted the jacket on my shoulders, “I slept just fine.”

How her face dropped for a moment told me everything I needed to know about her and Jake’s relationship. If I wasn’t sure before, I was now. Not only was Simone like my mother, she was like him too. A cold spike of rage coursed through my veins as I looked over at Jake’s timid and almost childlike behavior before meeting her eyes again. This time I let my polite mask drop. This time I let Simone have exactly what she wanted, a look into my thoughts. I know what you are. 

Her smile faltered as we stared one another down for a short moment. Then, she fixed her mask. “That’s good. There’s nothing better than a good night’s sleep.”

“I can think of a few things,” I replied, carefully pulling out my dwindling pack of cigarettes. “Like one last smoke.” I nodded toward the door. “Want to join me?”

He looked uncertain, looking at Simone for that ever-so-subtle nod before joining me. “Sure.”

The fresh air made the heavy weight of Simone’s gaze burning holes into my skull feel somewhat lessened as I leaned against the wall beside Jake and lit the cigarette, taking a quick drag before holding it out to him. “Sorry, you’re in the doghouse because of me.”

Jake shrugged, slowly regaining his usual attitude and demeanor. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to being on Simone’s nerves.”

“I can imagine.”

“She’s not usually like this,” he assured me quietly. “Ever since her ex came to visit a while back, she’s been… off.”

She’d get no sympathy from me, but for Jake’s sake, I shrugged him off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt with far worse people.”

Jake handed the cigarette back to me with a sad look. “She reminds you of your mom, doesn’t she?”

“A little,” I replied. “More so someone else that makes my mother look like a saint.”

He tilted his head carefully. “Who?”

I smirked. “You used up your questions last night.”

“Do you always have to make getting to know you so difficult?” He questioned with a smile.

“Of course. If I didn’t, you’d get bored.”

“I don’t think I’d ever get bored of you,” he replied, softer than before, with a gleam of something in his eyes… something nervous and unnamed. 

I could see Simone watching us closely from the corner of my eye like a predator watching over the prey she’d long staked her claim to. Jake wasn’t a game and certainly wasn’t anyone to claim. I pulled the cigarette from between Jake’s lips and took one last drag of it, closing my eyes to savor the smokey taste that filled my mouth as I exhaled. “Well, time for me to head out.” I placed what remained between Jake’s lips and slid past the window, making deliberate eye contact with Simone, waving at her as I walked towards Dom’s bike.

“Try not to wreck it,” Jake said, standing up from his comfortable position against the wall. “It’d suck to get back to the city and hear you’d been beaten to death by angry bikers.”

With a smirk, I swung my leg over and straddled the bike. “Or it’d be super badass coming back and hearing about how I beat the shit out of 20 angry bikers.”

He laughed, and his eyes softened. “See you at work, Lana.”

“See you then, Jerk.” I pulled the helmet over my head and started the bike, revving the engine before flipping Jake off and speeding down the street. He stood on the curb for a minute before turning and walking into the diner to face Simone.

I let the light rush of adrenaline wash over me as I drove. The engine roaring replaced the sound of the ocean. The smell of Jake on his jacket replaced the bitter tang of salt. The wind forced anything left of Cape Cod off me and left it where it belonged. Fuck the cape. I repeated to myself.

*

He sat back down across from Simone with a sigh, folding his hands on the table and watching her quietly eat the simple breakfast platter she’d ordered. Watching Simone drink anything other than wine made him feel weird, but seeing her do so this early in the morning was just concerning. “You hate beer.”

Simone smiled, chuckling as she examined the bottle in her hand. “I do.”

“How was the rest of the night with your mom?”

“You’d know the answer if you’d bothered to come back last night.”

“Simone,” Jake sighed. He felt guilty about not calling to let her know what had happened, but he hadn’t been able to think straight until this morning. It was something he found happened often when Lena was involved. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She shook her head. “Sorry is something you say when you forget to bring wine or dessert. You just disappeared, Jake. Sorry, it doesn’t cut it this time.”

“It’s personal okay,” Jake replied flippantly.

“Personal?” Simone hissed. “More personal than all I’ve done and sacrificed for you?”

Jake ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not my shit, Simone. It’s not my place to share it with you.”

Her pale eyes stared back at him with a downturned face of disappointment that he was familiar with. “Was she any good?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed. “I didn’t sleep with her.” Of course, technically, he did, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Simone that.

“Let’s not play games, Jake,” she said while taking a drink. “We both know how you are, especially with new coworkers.”

Whether she meant it as a dig towards his short relationship with Tess or not didn’t matter, it hurt all the same. He leaned over the table a bit more. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

She watched him for a minute before she finally sighed. “Good.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I didn’t really have time to think about it.”

“What happened?”

This was the moment he’d dreaded. Jake didn’t want to lie to Simone. It was one of their oldest rules, one that Simone mainly took seriously. But if he told her what happened last night, she’d no doubt try to help. It was just who she was, and that’d put a swift and bitter end to the friendship he’d just reestablished with a girl who was more like him than he thought. “It’s just like she said. I helped her out, lost track of time, and ended up crashing on her couch.” Her bed. The bed that made it impossible to smell anything but her.

“And where was she staying?”

“Simone-”

“The least you could do is tell me where you were. I-”

“Simone!” He interrupted. “Lena’s shit isn’t our problem. I helped her out. That’s it. Do you not trust me?”

She reached across the take and took hold of his hand. “Of course I do. You know I do. The one I don’t trust is her.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, I know you two don’t get along, but she hasn’t been anything but nice to everyone.”

“Nice is not a word I’d use to describe that girl.” Simone shook her head. “I read her file. Howard’s old system was actually useful for once.” She leaned in closer. “Lena Harrow is dangerous, Jake. Did you know she had a criminal record? Fighting, drugs, stealing, arson.”

With all he’d learned about her in just one night, Jake felt the list of crimes was relatively small compared to what he’d been picturing. Lena had a dark past; there was no denying that. “I’m not saying I know everything about her, but-”

“No buts. Just… Don’t sleep with her, and don’t get too attached,” Simone’s face softened, and large tears began to well in her eyes as she spoke. “I care about you, Jake. And I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

He held her hand. “I know. I promise I’ll be careful, Simone.”

*

I pulled up to the warehouse, parked the bike next to all the others, and knocked on the side door. A large man, lovingly known among Dom’s gang as Fluffy, opened the door and smiled down at me. “Dom in?”

“He’s at Nana’s,” Fluffy replied.

“Thanks!”

Weaving through the heavy foot traffic of the city, I squeezed through Nana’s door and offered the elderly woman a smile, one she met with a scowl. She quickly rolled up one of the newspapers and stalked from behind the counter toward me. The swats were too quick to dodge as she cursed in Arabic. “You worried us!” She shouted. “Stealing that bike and riding off, no phone calls, no notes!”

“I’m sorry, Nana!” I shrieked, rubbing my arm where she’d hit me. 

She pulled me into a tight hug and squeezed hard. “You never do that again! You understand me!”

I hugged her back. “I promise, Nana.”

When she finally pulled back, she shooed me toward the corner. “He’s in his seat.”

Dom always commandeered the booth in the very back of the restaurant. Said it was good for business even though everyone knew dealing beneath Nana’s roof was against the rules. He ate the food in front of him, wordlessly offering me the seat across from him. I slid his keys across the table. “It’s got a full tank.”

“Good,” he said, putting them back in his pocket. “Did it give you any problems?”

“No.”

Dom looked at me for a moment before he sighed and asked, “You feel better?”

With a shrug, I answered, “I guess.”

“I’m sorry about the jacket.”

“Dom, that was-” He held up a hand to stop me.

“I know it’s not the only reason you did it, but the last straw to set you off. My guy did it, and I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I’d offer to replace it, but we both know it was one of a kind.”

I sighed. “I don’t blame you for what happened, but thanks.”

He took a few more bites before asking, “How was Cape Cod?”

“Shit, as always.” I smiled. “But I guess it was better than the last few times.”

“That got anything to do with the tough guy?”

“What?” I looked at him with wide eyes and a, hopefully, slight blush. “How did you-”

“He mentioned having to pack for a trip to The Cape. It wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.” Dom smiled a bit. “I was just glad you’d have a familiar face around.” After a minute, he reached over and held my hand. “I’ve gotta tell you something, but promise you’re not gonna freak out and steal my shit again, okay?”

Dom was rarely this cautious about what he said, and it put me on edge instantly. “Okay.”

He squeezed my hand as he spoke. “One of my guys saw a familiar car driving through.”

“Familiar car?” I asked before the realization hit me, along with the memories of that engine roaring and the tires squealing beneath every movement. “Dom…”

“Relax,” he ordered quickly. “I’m looking into it. You’ll be the first to know if there’s anything to worry about. I promise.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

Dom waited to pull back until my breaths had evened out. “You should head to Ozzy’s. Those two have been worried.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Dom.”

“No problem, kid, just don’t steal my bike again.”

“No promises.”

“Get the fuck outta here.”

Nana filled my arms with to-go boxes, and I made my way to the bar. The security team grabbed a box from my arms and greeted me quickly. I set one down and tapped the bar, making sure the two bartenders knew it was for them before heading into Ozzy’s office. He sat with his back turned to me, looking down at a stack of papers. Finally, I knocked on the wall. “Hey.”

He turned and jumped up, pulling me into a big hug. “Thank Jesus! You’re not allowed to do that ever again!”

“I breathed in the comforting smell of Ozzy’s smoke and sighed. “Sorry, Oz.”

“Don’t be,” he insisted. “Just pick up the phone next time.”

My dad’s ruined jacket sat on the desk on top of a pile of things. It made me sad looking down at the remains of such a big part of my life. “I didn’t mean to ignore your calls. I just… It’s been a long week.”

He smiled. “I know, darling. But it’s okay now. You’re home, where we can all take care of each other.”

“Does Pete know?”

“No.” Ozzy shook his head. “I figured it’d be best, all things considered, to not tell him you’d run off.”

“Good. He needs to focus on getting better.”

Ozzy nodded in agreeance. “Patrick and I discussed what we wanted to do next week when he gets out of the hospital. He’s been asking to meet your coworkers for a while now.”

I groaned. “You’re not going to suggest what I think you are, right?”

“Between the three of us, we have enough to take him to 22West. So he’d get to meet your coworkers and have a high-end meal. It’s a win for everyone.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “I guess I owe you two this since I was gone.”

Patrick appeared in the doorway, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “This mean I need to get a suit?”

“Yes,” I answered. “It’s a pretty high-end place.”

“Say no more, sis. I’m on it.”

Ozzy smiled. “I think I have something that would work.”

“No hats.”

“Damn.”

*

I took the next few days off to readjust to the city and calm my nerves about returning to the restaurant. It was little more than a paranoid feeling that I’d return to Maddie back in the kitchen or, worse, my mother waiting in the front room for me. When I did go back, these feelings were quickly depleted as Scott looked up from prep and scoffed. “Bout fuckin time. Go get something to eat and then get to prepping.”

“Yes, Chef,” I answered, nodding to Isaac. “It’s good to be back.”

“Yeah yeah, hurry it up, Red!”

Changing into my shirt, I stared at my empty locker for a moment, quietly mourning the space dads jacket used to fill up. My fingers ran over the open air as I turned to smack right into someone’s chest. Jake’s familiar laugh made me look up with a smile. “Miss me that much?”

I rolled my eyes and took a step back. “There goes my good day.” He squeezed past me and opened his locker, looking at the leather jacket I’d stuffed inside. “I took the liberty of returning your jacket.”

“How’d you know my combination?”

“Sasha.”

“Right,” Jake chuckled, holding the jacket in his hands for a second before holding it out to me. “Why don’t you keep it for a while?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I’ve got another one.”

I smiled, turning toward the door. “So do I. Keep your jacket, Jake.”

The second I walked into the front room and toward the long table filled with people eating the family dinner, Sasha jumped up and wrapped me up in a big hug. He demanded to hear about my criminal history as Will set a plate in front of me. From across the table, Simone smiled as Jake slid into the seat next to her. The two of us held one another’s gaze for a moment before Howard broke the stiff silence. “Lena, welcome back. How was your vacation?”

“Oh, it was a hoot,” I answered.

He hummed, “So you found a place with the worst bed and drank all week?”

I laughed and nodded. “You know me, Howard, always the party animal.”

Howard nodded, sliding a small piece of paper across the table to me with a more careful smile. “Today, we’ve been gifted with a spectacular vintage.”

The paper unfolded, and a cold wave washed over me as I traced my mother’s handwriting. Leave a tip for the cleaners next time. I practically scoffed at the simple message before I tore the paper up and stuffed it into my pocket. Jake looked at me from across the table but said nothing as we ate the family dinner and drank the fancy wine.

Being tossed into the throws of a busy night of service felt exhilarating after the long break I’d taken. The kitchen was finally back to its normal flow as all traces of Maddie’s visit were washed away by Scott’s powerful voice and creative mind. As soon as things slowed down, I nodded at Santos. “Need some help with those dishes?”

He laughed. “Does it matter what I say?”

“Nope!” I smiled back. “Give me one second, and I’ll hop in and help.”

I wiped my hands down and shrugged my cook’s coat off, hanging it off the railing as I slid out the kitchen door and behind the bar. Nicky smirked at me as he cleaned some glasses. The restaurant was basically empty. Servers stood by the bar waiting for the last few tables to begin vacating, and Jake made one last drink for the only person sitting at the bar. I stepped behind him and smiled, gently tapping his shoulder. “You’re it.”

He looked at me with a scoff. “Pretty sure that’s cheating.”

“Pretty sure I don’t care,” I replied. 

“You know I’m just going to tag you once I’m finished with this drink, right?”

“You can try,” I egged on, sneaking back into the kitchen and sliding beside Santos to help wash the last dishes. 

Isaac was back to telling the whole kitchen his crazy stories bringing the entire kitchen to a loud clamor of laughter and comments. Because of the noise, I didn’t hear the steps as they settled in behind me until it was too late. Jake leaned over my shoulder and smirked, tapping my nose with his finger. “You’re it.”

He ducked away before I could splash him with dishwater. “I’m gonna tag you with this nasty wet hand!”

“Lookin forward to it, princess!” He yelled as he climbed the stairs toward the locker room.

Isaac leaned on the counter beside me, wiggling his eyebrows. “Princess?”

I splashed him. “Fuck off!”

Once the dishes had been put on the rack, the kitchen grew empty, and Santos and I walked upstairs to change. I smiled when I opened my locker and saw Jake’s jacket stuffed inside. Sneaky asshole. I shrugged it on, having forgotten to grab my own before returning his. One more night of wearing it wouldn’t kill me, and I’d gotten rather fond of how it smelled and felt around my shoulders.

Everyone was crowding around the bar when I got downstairs, everyone but Simone and Howard, of course. Howard smiled at me while Simone took one look at me, the jacket, and turned her face away. Jealousy didn’t look good on her. From behind the bar, Jake’s eyes ran down my outfit, and he smiled. I ignored how it made my stomach flip and how I wanted to make him smile again. 

“What are we talking about?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside Ari.

She smiled. “Tattoos. “

Sasha pointed at Jake’s arm. “We were just mocking Jakey’s shitty mermaid.”

I looked at the bartender’s modest mermaid tattoo on his inner arm. “Hey, that looks kind of like mine.”

“You’ve got a mermaid tattoo?” Jake asked with a smirk. “Show it to me.”

“No!”

Heather leaned in closer. “Ooohhh, I know what that means!”

Sasha and Ari cooed in my ears. “Where’s it at?”

“I bet it’s right over her pu-”

“I’m not telling any of you vultures!”

“Well, I know it’s not on your back,” Jake said smoothly, his smile never faltering.

I scoffed. “What happened to no peeking?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was always gonna peek, princess.”

Sasha nearly spat his drink out, wide eyes moving back and forth between the two of us. “Did Jakey finally take your flower, lovely Tiger Bitch?”

“No,” I replied, shoving him.

“Did get a pretty sweet view of you naked, though.”

“Bullshit!” I shoved a finger in his face. “If you’d have seen me naked, then you’d know exactly where the mermaid is.”

He lifted his chin up, smug and eating up all the attention. “Maybe I do.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t waste time demanding to see it.” I leaned back in my seat and smiled. “Shame, it’s in a good spot too.”

The cogs in his brain were practically visible as he thought about every possible location before leaning on the bar. “Ass?”

“Nope.”

“One of your boobs, then?”

“No,” I laughed. “And even if it was, you’d never get to see it.”

“Never say never.”

Sasha gagged. “If the two of you could just do the nasty already and quit the dirty talk, we would all appreciate it!”

Scott shook his head as he downed the last of his drink and stood. “Dinner, whose in?”

“I’m picking tonight!” Ari cheered over his shoulder, making the man wince.

“Great, everyone, prep your stomachs for some shitty Italian or something.” Ari punched him in the shoulder, and everyone laughed as we headed out the door.

*

As he walked beside Lena, Jake couldn’t shake the warning Simone had given him a few days ago in the diner or the looks she gave him each time he interacted with Lena. The redhead wearing his jacket laughed beside him at something Sasha had said from the front of the group. “Hey,” Jake said, pulling her lively green eyes to his. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ready for our question game already?” She teased with a smirk.

He couldn’t help but smile as well. “I was actually wondering something a bit more serious.”

“Oh?” She asked, tilting her head. “Well, I guess I could give you a freebie just this once.”

“How generous.”

She nudged him. “What’s on your mind?”

How was he supposed to start this? “I… I may have heard a few things about you that I wanted to ask about.”

“Well, there’s a good chance I’ll have answers. What did you hear?” She asked. 

“I heard you have a pretty extensive criminal record.”

Lena didn’t even bat an eye as she nodded. “Yeah, I do. Was there a particular crime you were curious about?”

Jake shrugged. “I guess I was just wondering how much of it was true.”

“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “Well, that’s easy then! I’ve got a lot of charges under my belt for fighting. It was all illegal rings, though, so no assault or anything crazy. Stealing was another big one. I don’t even know how many times I got busted for that.” She shook her head. “I was kind of shit at it.” She hummed quietly, trying to remember. “Oh, there’s drugs, obviously. Just buying, no distribution or smuggling or anything.”

“Any arson?” He asked.

She scoffed. “Okay, that one wasn’t on me! Some assholes were harassing Quinn at the club she works at, so she called me and Prue and Patrick to help walk her home. She didn’t tell us she’d dumped gasoline all over the sidewalk until after she lit the damn thing on fire to try and scare them. Bitch almost took off my eyebrows. Anyway, the cops showed up and arrested all of us. My dad and Ozzy were fucking pissed.”

Jake looked at her with furrowed brows. How the hell did she do this? Lena looked up at him and poked his forehead. “You do that more, and you’ll hurt yourself. What’s up?”

“Why are you so honest?” He asked.

“You asked,” she answered. “Did you want me to lie?”

“No,” Jake shook his head and chuckled. “I just… You’re just something else.”

She leaned closer to him and smiled. “Something good, I hope.”

Jake looked down at her and quietly agreed. She was something good. That night he watched her closely, trying to see what Simone did. Trying to figure out why she was so against him getting closer to the redhead, but the more he looked, the more he liked what he saw. As she tapped his shoulder and whispered another playful, “You’re it.” Jake threw all his notions of not knowing who Lena was out the window. He knew exactly who she was, and he trusted her.

*

I walked in the front door, quickly readjusting the straps of my dress before giving the hostess my name and telling her I was waiting for the rest of my party. Nicky spotted me from the bar and smiled. “Hey, Red, I thought today was your day off.”

“It is,” I answered, taking a seat at the bar. “I’m here as a guest tonight.”

“A guest,” he swooned. “Moving up in the world, are we?”

Jake returned from the back, pausing when he saw me. “The hell are you doin’ here?”

“Our little Red is a guest tonight,” Nicky said with a smile.

“A guest?” Jake pressed as he refilled the ice.

I scoffed. “I could be a guest.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Nicky asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No one,” I answered. “I’m here for a family dinner.”

Jake laughed at that. “Family dinner? I’m dyin’ to see what your family comes in lookin like.”

I nodded. “Me too. I told them it was upscale, but Ozzy’s version of that makes him look like an old victorian count and Patrick.” I winced. “Patrick is going to show up in something fucking hideous. So, I guess I should apologize in advance for you guys having to look at them all night.”

“Well, I don’t know about Nicky, but their outfits won’t bother me.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be too busy looking at yours.” He winked.

I turned my head away from Jake’s smile, an attempt to hide the blush that no doubt dusted my face with red. However, the sight waiting for me at the front was one that made me do a double take. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

[manuscripts-dontburn]

Black and British: A Forgotten History

Author: David Olusoga

First published: 2016

Rating: ★★★★★

Absolutely fantastic book, an important part of world history served on a silver platter of historical research goodness, human touch, and wisdom. Perfect if you are looking for a book to read during the next Black History Month. Or really any month.

The Last Bookwanderer

Author: Anna James

First published: 2023

Rating: ★★★★☆

A lovely finale to a lovely series. there was more talking and less actual exploring this time, but I enjoyed it still.

Mary

Author: Anne Eekhout

First published: 2021

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

This book felt like a fevered, confused, depressing, oppressive nightmare. Instead of feeling for Mary, which her biography and the graphic novel Mary's Monster: Love, Madness, and How Mary Shelley Created Frankenstein did, this book turned her into 1) an overtly unreliable narrator and 2) an extremely passive, weary girlfriend. Furthermore, I felt that nothing was moving, that I was stuck in the same place at the beginning as well as the end. There was no journey. Which is so very ridiculous when it comes to a book about Mary Frikkin Shelley.

Sancta Familia

Author: Martin & Tomáš Wells

First published: 2020

Rating:  none

Po zralé úvaze jsem se rozhodla tuto knihu nehodnotit. Není to totiž něco, co by mělo výraznou historickou výpovědní hodnotu a ani to není dobrá literatura. Na to je zkrátka příliš navázaná na intimitu jedné rodiny. Celou dobu jsem si připadala, že mi prostě do této věci nic není a nemám na jakoukoliv kritiku ani právo.

Svátky krásné hvězdy

Author: František Kožík

First published: 1988

Rating: ★★★★☆

Milý, něžný obrázek Vánoc v dobách minulých, ač ne zcela ještě vzdálených, a tak trochu časová kapsle.

Small Acts of Kindness

Author: Jennifer Antill

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

The bare bones of the story could have held the weight of a truly Tolstoyan piece of literature. Unfortunately, of the many interesting characters we are stuck with the most boring one and the main event gets an almost shameful sidenote treatment. The latter part of the book is also nothing but characters talking about things the reader already knows. Pity, especially since the historical research here was well done.

The Mayor of Casterbridge

Author: Thomas Hardy

First published: 1886

Rating: ★★★★☆

An extremely well-constructed story where the central theme is the fact of a reaction that inevitably follows any human action. I did not love this as much as I did Tess and I did not really root for any of the characters like I could in Far From the Madding Crowd, but this is definitely a solid read.

Dressed for a Dance in the Snow: Women's Voices from the Gulag

Author: Monika Zgustová

First published: 2017

Rating: ★★★☆☆

I imagine this would be a very good accompanying book to Gulag by Anne Applebaum, mostly because it has the human touch but lacks the more general and detailed realities of the Gulag system. Oral history is possibly the most fascinating way of gathering information, at the same time there will always be a level of unreliability, especially in cases when the author decides to include stories of women she did not interview herself and only learned about them second-hand.

Girl With a Pearl Earring

Author: Tracy Chevalier

First published: 1999

Rating: ★★★★☆

If you ever need a slow, quiet book about an ordinary person, about the intimacy between an artist and his muse, Tracy Chevalier has got your back with this one.

Joy to the World: How Christ's Coming Changed Everything

Author: Scott Hahn

First published: 2014

Rating: ★★★★★

As the Christmas celebrations were canceled in Bethlehem, as the baby Jesus was lying under the rubble in Palestine, there was hardly any joy to be found in our current reality. So I am thankful for this little book, for simply yet deeply touching on the subject of Christmas and its true substance.

The Biggest Prison on Earth: A History of the Occupied Territories

Author: Ilan Pappé

First published: 2016

Rating: ★★★★☆

For over 70 years Palestinians have been paying the prize for Europe failing the Jewish people. And that prize has been intolerably high. It is possibly at its highest right now. October 7th, 2023 did not happen out of nowhere. And the bloody genocide that the Israelis have unleashed after it too has its strong and old roots in previous decades. This is a very balanced account of the history of Palestine post-1948. And with all that balance, it still clearly spells out that Israel is a colonial project that needs to be dismantled.

The Winter Garden

Author: Alexandra Bell

First published: 2021

Rating: ★★★☆☆

If you like The Night Circus, there is a chance you might like The Winter Garden as well. There is a similarly flowery language and fantastical images conjured up after all. Some of the scenes are deeply touching too. But personally, I kept feeling that whilst most of the good parts were there, somehow they did not click into each other the way I would wish. Here are my greatest misgivings: a) The characters in the book are supposed to be intimate friends, but we never really get to see their friendship. We are simply told they are extremely close, but they hardly ever seek out each other and when they do, it is for only a little while and they only talk about themselves, which leads me to... b) There is really only one likable character and he is not either of the two main characters. c) I felt the obsession people had with The Winter Garden rather inexplicable, considering how much magic was obviously readily available in this world. Not a bad book, would read something from the author again, just a pity of a promise unfulfilled.

Gwen & Art Are Not in Love

Author: Lex Croucher

First published: 2023

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Cute YA romance dressed in a historical costume, but the historical aspect has next to no effect on the story (which I personally was a little sad about). There is hardly any story to talk about, but when in the right mindset, I can easily see this one being a favorite for others.

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Prologue - One

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

a/n: I couldn't help myself. I've had this scene in my head for a week. Also been replaying 7 again, dammit. Also I may have projected my own feelings of Miranda a bit, it's no secret I have a crush on that absolute terrible, horrible, madwoman.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their laughter, and Ethan felt a flaming red blush cross his cheeks.  Dammit, he wasn’t being cool, was he?  He fumbled with the plastic cup full of boba.  It was his idea, and Mia had loved the suggestion, but now that he was here, he realized he was craving a steak.  And beer.   

Suggesting boba was probably a side effect of too much time in LA, he mused, spinning the cup and staring at the little tapioca balls.  But then again, he preferred it to the armpit of Texas, where he’d spent most of his childhood and where his mother still lived.  Where he’d come to visit between semesters.  

And where, finally, Mia had come back to visit over the summer as well.  

“That’s crazy,” she finally concluded, her hands dropping awkwardly into her lap.  Ethan’s gaze moved over her long brown hair and the way the sunlight here danced through it.  

He protested, “It’s not that crazy.” 

“The fact that our high school was so tiny, we dated, AND we were both in the closet–” this last part was whispered.  They were outside on the patio, and if the several other patrons were listening, they sure didn’t act like it.  A line crossed Ethan’s forehead at this subtle change in her tone.  They sure weren’t in the closet anymore, so why the secrecy? 

But again…maybe he’d been in LA too long.  Sexuality wasn’t a big deal there…it wasn’t a deal at all.  He’d only been back in town a week.  

“..AND we’re here, now, on another date?  What are the odds?”

He spun the cup around, his eyes moving to it again.  “I’m sure there’s plenty of other people from our school who are.  It’s not that weird.” 

She laughed again.  “Oh Ethan.”  

He couldn’t decide if that was an endearing ‘Oh Ethan’, or a ‘you’re ridiculous’ ‘Oh Ethan’.  She was smiling though, and he fought the smirk that twisted onto his own lips, feeling the ever-more reddening cheeks.  

So much for hiding his crush.  But then, that wasn’t the point of a date, was it?  Despite the shyness, Ethan held her gaze, watched as she sipped her drink and squinted at him in that way.  Hopefully, the way that meant she still had feelings for him as well.  

High school felt like forever ago.

“So, I know you said you didn’t date anybody seriously, but what about crushes?  Who was your biggest secret crush that really brought out the bi?”   

He chuckled, but it was an awkward chuckle.  Secret?  

Again, the gears spun in Ethan’s head as he processed that others were not as open about their sexuality.  He glanced around the patio as if self-conscious.  He put the strange feeling in the back of his mind…no need to worry about all of that now.  He could answer her question easily.  The blond nodded as if reconfirming this, and ran a hand through his already-ruffled hair.  

“First year of university…Chemistry 1010.”  She was already giggling, but now he giggled too.  

“Not the professor!”

“The professor,” he confirmed.  Suddenly he was thirsty, and sipped the almost sickeningly-sweet tea.  “You can see why I kept that one to myself.”  

She squinted again and bit her lip, the smile never leaving her eyes.  

“A chemistry professor though….were you remin–?”

“He was nothing like my dad,” Ethan said quickly, not liking the abrupt turn the conversation might take.  “I know, chemistry.  But.  He wasn’t very…science..y at all.”  Now he tilted his head, hoping to steer the conversation in any other feasible direction.  

“He was kind of scruffy actually.  Wore flannel a lot.  He looked like he might have been a skater years before. Shaggy.  Just some dude.  But then he opened his mouth and…” Ethan gestured with one pale hand.  “Just all this information came out.  He was crazy smart, and loved chemistry and everything about it.  He really brought passion to it.  Made me wonder if I should change majors.  But then I got my second year chem teacher and…” he made a face,  “...absolutely not.” 

They both laughed over this, and Mia considered.  

“I guess we have that in common, then.  A type, maybe.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she leaned forward excitedly, folding one leg over the other, her shoulders hunching as if in anticipation.  Ethan was smiling in spite of himself even though he found the conversation strange.  Was it normal for two people on a date to talk about their other, same-sex crushes?  He heard several people’s voices in his head, including his mother, and his best friend, reminding him to stop being so serious.  

“I had a research project for advanced biochem, it was a really select group of us–honors class–working with…a, well a company developing, they work in enzymology….Patents for different…” 

He raised an eyebrow, and scoffed despite his serious expression.  “Oh yeah, the basics.  Go on.”

“Anyway!” Her laugh sounded high pitched.  Nervous?  He tried to remind himself that she was a nerd, albeit in a different field than he, and people usually didn’t respond well to the necessary trade word-vomit of specialized fields.  He didn’t mind listening. 

“There was this contact that we had, an expert in the field.  A biologist, I think she was.” 

“Not the chem professor, at least,” he joked.  

Mia closed her eyes when she shook her head.  

“She was from Europe, I never got to meet her,” it was said in an almost-wistful tone.  

“She was so smart.  Like you said about your professor.  She would start talking and just…everything she said, she really got it, you know?  She knew so much about specific reactions and tests…It was like she’d been in the field for decades, she was a walking encyclopedia.  Always so serious, focused, it was intimidating.”

“So…you’re into scary older women,” Ethan noted, “Not sure what that says about my chances.”

“She wasn’t that much older than us, though,” Mia’s gaze was elsewhere, still remembering this woman.  “At least she didn’t look like it.  Anyway, she wasn’t just smart.  Like you mentioned, she didn’t really fit the lab coat stereotype.”  

“Don’t tell me she wore flannel.” 

Mia’s giggle made him smile widely.  Finally.    

“No, no flannel.  She wore….dresses.  And lots of black.  The part that was odd was her heavy makeup, which…isn’t common for women in STEM.  I didn’t even notice until I was trying to figure out why she looked so striking! And then I realized her makeup was very…vampy, gothic.  She stood out.  I was not the only one crushing, I’m sure.” 

“Speaking of crush, you’re crushing my dreams here,” Ethan said with flared nostrils.  “Vampy makeup is not one of my iconic looks.” 

The giggle intensified.  She shoved his shoulder.  “We can have more than one type!  Does that mean I’m out of luck too?  I don’t own a single flannel.” 

He hid the obnoxiously wide grin that threatened to creep across his face.  “Hey…don’t worry about it, nobody’s perfect.” 

The outburst of laughter was welcome, and made his heart flutter. 

—----------

Ethan awoke to a peal of thunder, but somewhere behind that, he almost wondered if he heard Miranda’s chuckle.  The blond sat upright in bed, gaze drifting over to the other side of the mansion bedroom.  Rosemary was visible there, by moonlight, deep in sleep in her new, larger daybed that Karl had built. 

Karl’s soft breaths sounded from his other side, and despite the warmth in the room, Ethan shivered.  

Was that a dream?  No, he realized, blinking rapidly.  It was a memory.  Was that their actual conversation, though?  The date, he remembered well.  Their first during college.  But…had Mia really said those words?  

He doubted his own memory.  Knowing that Miranda had manipulated his mind after his death, as well as the minds of others, he couldn’t be sure about anything anymore.  She’d turned into Mia, Karl, and who knew who else.  

Ethan didn’t realize it, but he was asking the question mentally.

Was that real? 

Yes, a soft chorus answered him back, the whispers sounding like silk grazing his neck and shoulders.  It was real.  

One thing Miranda had never done, probably wasn’t capable of doing, was manipulating the actual voices within the Mold, that Ethan had heard since his second ‘death’, likely since coming closer to the Mold itself.  The voices always seemed to whisper out of fear, not reverence.  

He always trusted them.  

Ethan lay back down uneasily, frowning as he remembered what awaited him after sunrise.  A meeting he rather detested the idea of, a meeting where he, Karl, Eva, the Duke, and a certain international spy who’d dealt with Karl in the past, would all meet on the topic of the decade–the Mold. 

He wanted nothing to do with spies, and doubly wanted nothing to do with this one in particular.  She had a romantic past with Karl.  

Ethan exhaled realizing that his wife, whom he spent years devoted to, had not only worked with the Connections, had offered her own DNA to Miranda’s cause, but now…a memory came up that confirmed Mia’s former infatuation with the woman.  

The belongings given to Ethan by Chris still sat upstairs, mostly untouched.  Eva offered to go through them, as had Karl, but Ethan stubbornly let them sit and only referenced them when absolutely necessary.  The stated reason was grief, but he knew that there was something else to it.  He couldn’t put it into words.  He didn’t want to feel betrayal again.  

Well, if anything could one-up the unsavory feeling of meeting a “colleague” of Heisenberg’s, having that memory come up sure did the job.  Ethan’s frown grew to unfathomable proportions.  

Thunder rumbled again as if in agreement with the mood, and he contemplated leaving the bed for coffee.