#not trying to yuck any yums

[achillesankle]

guys im sorry I cant stand andrew 😔

[tokidokifish]

i am nearly thirty hours into hades 2 and nemesis remains the worst part of the experience so far. not only is she relentlessly cruel but her fucking mechanics suck too. she steals your gold?? your fucking boons?? she once forced me into a miniboss fight. i saw her twice in one run and i wanted to snap my controller in half. it’s almost impressive.

[discountsoysauce]

Final thoughts on the red white & royal blue movie as someone who went straight from reading the book to watching the movie:

I understand that certain changes have to be made to account for a myriad of problems in adapting from a book to a film (namely time and budget constraints), but at the same time the movie felt a little bit, idk, shallow? To me? It's not that I disliked it necessarily. It made me laugh a good bit and I don't discourage people from watching it, but to me it felt like a lot of the core of the book was wiped away to make room for the romance. Not just the characters' relationships with others, but also kind of with each other and even within themselves to an extent. I feel like there's a lot of things I could say here to illustrate my point (Alex's struggles with identity and pushing himself too hard, his complex friendship with Nora, his family struggles and how that parallels Henry, Henry's relationship with Phillip and Bea and his mother, etc) but all in all to me it felt like the movie captured the core of the characters just fine, but any other interesting character parts were kind of thrown to the side.

Most of these things are just kind of inevitabilities when it comes to screen adaptations, and that's completely fine. As far as adaptations go, this could have been much, much worse, and it's still a good movie regardless of how I personally feel about it. My main point here is that this is why I'm worried about screen adaptations of books (I'm specifically bringing this back to the villains series by ve schwab, which is a vastly different tone than this book). I'm not worried about it being bad, I'm worried about it being a good film that changes certain things to more easily adapt it to film, and the effect that that might have on the fandom as a whole as the movie content drowns out book content.

That's it that's the post. Agree or don't it doesn't really matter lol these are just my thoughts I'm screaming into the void.

[an-spideog]

Don't Use Duolingo if You Really Want to Learn Irish

That title is a bit dramatic, but I really don't think that duolingo is a useful tool for Irish, especially in its current state, so I want to talk a bit about why, and I'll also talk about some alternatives.

Pronunciation

The first and most egregious issue is that at some point recently-ish, duo decided to start using Text-To-Speech for their Irish course, rather than recordings of a native speaker. The problem here is that their TTS is not trained on native speakers of Irish and pronounces words incorrectly. It doesn't make consistent distinctions between broad and slender consonants for example.

Irish has no standard pronunciation, so I understand how it can feel weird to choose just one dialect for the purposes of pronunciation (the old recordings were from a speaker of Galway Irish), but having just one dialect is much better than TTS which sounds like a learner, imagine if they had TTS for the French course which sounded like an anglophone schoolkid trying to pronounce french, and claimed they were teaching you how to speak french!

Grammar

Duo tends to be correct on grammar at least, which is a start. But often people using it get very confused about the grammar because duo doesn't explain any of it. I think there's a place for immersion in language learning, and I don't think everything has to be explained like that, but within duo's system of sentence testing and exercises like that, not having any explanation for why it's "mo chóta" and not "mo cóta" can be really confusing. Duo used to have more grammar information, it's a shame that they removed it, I wonder why they did it.

Money and Motivation

Duolingo is a business, and their motivation is not to help you learn a language 'fully', but to keep you using their app and hopefully have a higher chance of sharing it with others, competing with others, buying or causing others to buy memberships or lingots or any other in-app purchases.

I don't want to make it out like duo is some big conspiracy and they're tricking people, I don't think that's the case, but it's good to remember that their primary motivation is to keep people using the app, rather than help people move to a level in a language where they don't need the app anymore.

Keep this in mind whenever you see people trying to sell you stuff for language learning.

Why do people use Duolingo

I do get it, and I don't want to make anyone feel bad for using duo, there's a ton of reasons people tend towards it at first 1. It's really well known, so especially if you're learning a language and haven't heard of other resources for it, you'll check duolingo 2. It's very motivating for a lot of people, checking in every day and forming that habit is a really good way of sticking with a language 3. It's fun, people enjoy it

If you use it for reason 3. and you still like it, then don't worry about this post, I'm not trying to yuck anyone's yums, keep having fun!

If you use it for reasons 1. or 2. you can still keep using it if you like, but I want to suggest some other things which you might find helpful in trying to get to a higher level in Irish.

Other Resources

To address the pronunciation issue, I'd heavily recommend you disregard the pronunciation in duolingo, if you're looking for more reliable sources of pronunciation, I'd look towards recordings of native speakers, you can find that on:

Teanglann and Foclóir (they use the same recordings)

Fuaimeanna

and a really useful and underused one: https://davissandefur.github.io/minimal-pairs/ where you can hear the difference between similar sounds that English speakers often mix up in Irish.

A lot of people like duolingo because it's nice to have a clear path forward, a progression that you can get into without too much decision-making. For this I recommend getting a good textbook or course and working through it, the ones I'll recommend also have native speaker audio on them.

Learning Irish by Mícheál Ó Siadhail, this book teaches Galway Irish, not just in pronunciation but in grammar too. It's quite dense but it's well thought out and well explained.

Teach Yourself Irish (1961) this book is available for free online, and is a really good option if you're interested in Cork Irish (Munster), and have some experience with grammatical terminology. I used this book myself and really liked it, but it's very intense and not for everyone. (If you do end up using it, feel free to skip the appendices at the start, they're more of a reference and sometimes put people off from actually getting to the first chapter. Also if you have any questions about it or need any help just let me know.)

If you want a video course, there's a great course called "Now You're Talking" which is available for free online, along with audio files and worksheets here. It features Donegal Irish and leads into the more intermediate level course called Céim ar Aghaidh also available online.

There's other textbooks that I have less experience with (Buntús na Gaeilge, Gaeilge/Gramadach Gan Stró, etc.) but if they work for you, stick with them, there's nothing worse than not making progress because you keep switching resources trying to find the "perfect one"

Whether or not you continue to use Duolingo, I would really really encourage you to try engaging with media in Irish. People often shy away from this when they're learning because they don't feel like they're "ready" yet. But you basically never feel like you're ready, you just have to try and find something near your level and try to get comfortable with not understanding everything. This is where you learn a huge portion of the language, you hear how things are pronounced you see what words mean in what contexts, getting input in your target language is so important!

I know content can be kind of hard to find, so I'll make a few recommendations here: There's a wealth of content available for free online (more if you're in ireland but some internationally) on TG4 If you're still starting out, I'd recommend trying to watch some kids shows since they'll have simpler language and will be easier to follow. I wouldn't recommend using English subtitles when you watch them. Some good options include:

Dónall Dána: an Irish dub of Horrid Henry, silly and childish but the actors have good Irish and importantly the show has Irish language subtitles, they don't always match but if you're still beginning and can't necessarily get everything by ear, they're really useful. (Mostly Galway Irish)

Curious George: another dub, again with Irish language subtitles (I can't remember what dialects were in it off the top of my head but I'd assume mostly galway again)

Seó Luna: No subtitles, but a good option if you're aiming for Munster Irish, the lead character has Kerry Irish

Miraculous: No subtitles but a better show than most of the other kids' ones and more bearable to watch as an adult (Mostly Galway Irish)

Ros na Rún: Moving away from kids shows, a long running soap opera, this has Irish subtitles and a really good mix of dialects within the show. If you're finding the kids shows boring or too easy I'd really recommend it, but it can be complex because of the amount of characters, dialects, and plotlines. I'd recommend starting at the beginning of a newer season and just trying to catch on to what's happening as you go.

There are a lot of books, if you live in Ireland you can get nearly any Irish book for free from a library, so please check out your local library or request some of these from other libraries in the system:

There's a series of fairytales (Rápúnzell, Luaithríona etc.) by Máiréad Ní Ghráda which are illustrated and for children, which are a really good option for when you're just starting out reading

There's kids books about Fionn and the Fianna by Tadhg Mac Dhonnagáin

There's a cute little kids' book in Kerry Irish about a cat named Mábúis

Leabhar Breac has a lot of graphic novels, some of them based on Irish mythology, some on other stuff. The fact that they're illustrated can make it a lot easier to follow even if you don't understand all the words at first.

Gliadar has just released their Scott Pilgrim translation

If you're looking for something a bit more advanced you can look at some of the books for adult learners by Comhar, they contain simplified language and glossaries but have full original adult stories.

And if you're wanting full, natural, native-level Irish there's a load of books by those same groups, and others like An Gúm, Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Oidhreacht Chorca Dhuibhne, Éabhlóid, Coiscéim, and more.

And don't shy away from older books written in Seanchló either, they can be more challenging but it's a whole extra world of books

If you're trying to improve your listening comprehension, I definitely recommend listening to shows on Raidió na Gaeltachta, hearing native Irish speakers talk at full speed is really good practice. But I get that it can be overwhelming at first. Here are some things you can do as you build up to that:

Watching those same TV shows I mentioned without subtitles is a good way to build up listening skills.

Vifax is a website where you can practice listening to short news segments and answer questions on them, then getting to look at the transcript with notes afterwards.

Snas is kind of the evolution of vifax, now using clips from both the news and Ros na Rún.

I really hope that this post can help people move away from duolingo if they're looking to take their Irish learning to the next level, if you've got any questions, just let me know!

[spooky-space-kook]

Hi, hey, hello.

If you have a partner who's very bad at math and tactical thinking? Please don't make them play a game that's literally just that. That's, like, billed as challenging for people who are into that sort of thing. Please don't do that.

[magerightsmagefights]

I know people tend to forget Wyll a lot in this fandom (I wonder why. What Could Possibly Be Different. Can you spot the difference?/s) but I'm genuinely surprised at the lack of Durge x Wyll content. Especially if you're going Redeemed, there's that inherent flavor of "My lover cannot know the truth, I am horrible and they would hate me, they would be correct to hate me." And with Wyll it's just... so juicy, he's so pure and shining, and Durge is so filled with filth and misery that there's barely a person left underneath.

Idk, as a femme romance reader I've spent so many years reading the "love redeems" arc where a FMC plays beauty to an MMC beast, in every genre, medium, budget, etc. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but beauty and the beast as a story structure has never done it for me.

until it's reversed, apparently, because Wyll as the beauty to Durge's beast needs to be injected directly into my veins like yesterday. All the other companions are good and sweet, don't get me wrong, but their reactions are coded like 'i accept you,' where Wyll to me comes off much more as 'we will heal you.' He doesn't have any funny little quips about you trying to bite him, no innuendos, no "I Will Put You Down" a la Laezel, he's just... so good, and he believes in your inherent goodness, he so easily sees "you" and "your urges" as wholly seperate entities he would step between if he could.

Speaking of which!! The coronation scene, when everyone finds out you're Bhaalspawn? I never see anyone talking about Wyll's reaction compared to other companions getting angry (even Dark Shadowheart will yell at you) because Wyll seems to be the ONLY PERSON who immediately separates you(the person he knows) from you(the person you used to be). Astarion isn't angry, he even appreciates your scheme freeing him from Cazador, but he also kinda falls into the whole "I will talk to you as if you are the exact same person who did these things, this is Your True Nature and I feel positive about it."

Wyll's reaction feels like the only one saying "You WERE that," instead of "You ARE that." It also feels like the only one that kinda-sorta acknowledges Durge's actual amnesia, because he doesn't treat this revelation like a betrayal the way the other "good" companions do. They be saying "The real evil was hiding within our ranks all along" like wym hiding? Durge didn't know either, how tf they supposed to tell you?

Wyll doesn't even blink. Once he knows what you are, his No.1 priority is reassuring YOU about it. The fact you're Bhaalspawn isn't a betrayal; it's a Horrible Burden and he's sorry you have to bear it, but there have been others like you who were good, who overcame, and your blood isn't who you are. His first instinct is to offer hope, to reassure you that there's a way out, he believes so hard that your urges are a defeatable enemy and he's ready to fight them with you.

(I also fall into the Durge And Gortash Fucked camp, and I cannot overstate the tastiness of Durge waltzing into the coronation of their ex, the Worst Man Alive, while bringing along their new boyfriend, the Best Man Alive)

Idk, I've just never engaged in a romance where I played the part of the Beast. As much as people rag on pure, princely archetypes, I don't actually see them that often. I genuinely don't remember the last time I read/saw a male lead behave like Wyll, but I've seen plenty of Astarions, Fenrises, Rhysands, etc. Romance loves a fixable MMC, but so rarely an MMC who wants to do the fixing.

Anyway. Justice for Wyll or whatever. I can only cross my fingers that future DLC will include more romance content, because we all deserve to have a Beauty for our Beast sometimes.

[beneathashadytree]

HEY GUYS! LONG POST HERE, BUT PLEASE READ🙏🏽

I am genuinely appalled by the discourse ongoing in the LNDS fandom these past few days—but above all, I am severely disappointed in what had started out as one of the most inclusive and sweet fandoms I’ve ever been in. I have a few things to say, so in this post I’m trying to put all my thoughts to words. Apologies if I sound harsh, but I’m genuinely livid. Also, please ignore any typos. I’m not wearing my glasses while word-vomiting.

First off, for a fandom that is composed of mostly adults, you guys have been acting terribly childishly. It’s 2024, and yet people are still unironically shaming others for “switching up on their favs” as if a person owes 2D characters any loyalty. Let people enjoy things. The novelty of Sylus and how he’s quite literally 6 months behind the other 3 love interests makes people want to catch up on the enjoyment of him all at once. He’s still such a brand new character and concept, so there’s no wonder everyone’s hyped up over him.

I’ve seen people get genuinely mad at other players and writing whole think-pieces about this. I promise you guys, the company making this game is still benefiting whether you’re pouring your money into Sylus or any one of the previous 3. We’re all happy to have an interesting character pop up among the roster now, and we’re taking our time getting to know him. Doesn’t make any of the first 3 any less loved. I genuinely don’t remember this amount of nastiness when solo events for each of the guys used to drop.

In fact, if the popularity thing is worrying you, going off MLQC (the company’s past game) the character who was last added was—eventually, after the initial hype died down—kicked off to the sidelines in most major events and was given the least content, and was the least favorite of fans.

Secondly, and this has my blood boiling, there is an insane amount of entitlement and rudeness I’ve seen on my timeline concerning how people characterize the men—particularly Rafayel.

Absolutely nothing warrants this shitty attitude towards other creators for how they depict characters in their fics. It seems you guys feel protected behind a screen and think it gives you the right to bully strangers online. Fanfiction is for fantasizing about your favs; for letting your imagination run wild. If this were a character analysis, then yes, maybe I’d agree that inaccuracies are aggravating. However, in fanfiction, there are zero rules, especially when it comes to smut.

Sexual preferences are not equivalent to a person’s whole personality—so whether he’s written as a dom, a sub, a switch, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, this has nothing to do with his kindness, gentlemanliness, passion, power, ruthlessness, snark, or whatever minuscule aspect of his character makes up his lovely whole and matters to you.

I think this circles back to a lack of ability to separate sexual matters and personality, because how else do people interpret fics depicting him in a certain manner as them erasing his character? They might overlap, but they can very well be mutually exclusive. I’ve seen incredibly sweet and gentle men irl who were absolute doms in bed, and I’ve seen powerful and passionate men who were reduced to tears between the sheets. There is barely any correlation whatsoever, and if anything, claiming otherwise is what I consider piss-poor media literacy and reading-comprehension.

My third point is that for some reason, there have been many, many posts and replies on here where I’ve seen people just straight-up spread pure hate for the characters. Maybe this bothered me in particular because I’m an OT3 (OT4 now!) and absolutely adore all of them, but I find no logical reason for “yucking someone’s yum” when we’re talking about liking the characters of an Otome game—a genre of video games which is made to literally cater to the tastes of as many people as possible.

It’s especially disheartening to see when it’s at a time like this, when new content is about to drop, and you find in the replies of every other post/discussion at least a few people spewing hate and disgust at Sylus. Again, so many people are incredibly excited about him. Why is there a need to rain on everyone’s parade, especially in such an unsolicited manner?

This fandom originally started as a safe space for people of all races, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, and personalities to bond over our mutual love for characters. All I’ve seen on my TL lately (in terms of discussion) is negativity, and it’s such a fucking let-down. I hope whatever the fuck has happened to this fandom cools down after a bit. It’s probably exaggerated and very in-your-face rn, cause more and more people are downloading LNDS, so the probabilities of finding people being nasty are increasing. But I seriously don’t want to grow to resent this fandom and find myself distancing myself from it to protect my peace.

Let’s all remember to be kind towards other players, to not act entitled or bratty about the characters, and to try and mind our own business if we see content that doesn’t suit our tastes.

[rosemarydisaster]

Cassandra Cain is so funny to me and I think she's under utilized because people like to make the robin they like the coolest one ever and Don't know how to incorporate a character that:

Knows how to read people and fight better than Nightwing

Has died way more times than Jason and takes it better

Figured out the bats identities faster than Tim

Has a really fucked up father like Steph, literally wasn't allowed to communicate

Assassin mother, trained to kill, and struggles to talk normally with people like damian

I feel like if people stop viewing characters as a competition for who can be the poorest mew mew or the coolest baddest bitch we would get way more interesting dynamics with the Batfam. I used Cass as an example because she and Duke are the most overlooked (wonder why), but honestly you could make this list with any batkid if you wanted. The thing about having a canon in which each one has their individual series at some point but also take up big chunks of the Batman run is that they're all the main character.

I'm not yucking your yum if you just want to wax poetically about how [insert name] had it the worst or their angst is just so Chef's kiss to you. I love those fics, I'm a sucker for them even if they're out of character. If DC can't keep their characters consistent fans are allowed to make up even sadder scenarios for them. By all means, make the Drakes abusive, make Batman an even shittier father, ignore other batfam if that's what you want to write, fan spaces are for that.

I'm just saying I would also really like a fic that takes into account how different DC writers trying to make their favorite robin the coolest/saddest/most interesting one leads to all of them being a force to reckon with. I really liked How Far Love Goes by Beatrice Eagle. It actually tries to manage most of the Batfam at the same time giving them equal weight which is something not even DC tries.

I think that's it, I kinda want to acknowledge how having the Batfam together is the single most unbalanced chaotic shit that could happen. Especially considering their personal issues and how they intersect with each other and Batman. If you think about it any given character in the family has fucked over at least two of the others and has been fucked over by some of them and it's besties with the rest. DC are cowards.

[grimsonandclover]

hi j came across ur blogs and FINALLY. someone who doesn’t write about puppy art or stepcest. i tbh would read anhtbjng abt patrick but i love childhood best freind patrick fics or enemies to lovers fics the most!!

All I Want For Christmas

Childhood Bestfriend!Patrick Zweig x classical singer!reader

Song of the post 'WHAT'S IT TO HIM? - Quadeca'

Yes! I don't yuck other people's yum but I noticed how it's everywhere in this fandom, which is fine, it's just not for me! There are some versions of puppy!characters that I can enjoy, but not when it gets really into the puppy stuff, ykwim? Stepcest and any other incest things are a hard no from me, though. Anyways, fuck, I love these two tropes so much, I could eat them for breakfast lunch and dinner and still have them as snacks and still never tire. but childhood friends to lovers >>> im such a softy for it. I wrote this the moment I saw your message, so it's semi-proofread, more so just me writing the little story I thought of as it came to me. if you want a smutty part two lmk and ill write it in a flash

I have no clue where the Christmas theme came from, it just kinda happened. I don't even celebrate Christmas lmao.

This was meant to be a blurb. Now it's a 5k word slow burn blurb. Hope you enjoy!

also the song linked has nothing to do w the story lmao, it's just what's playing. <3 quadeca

SFW

5.3k words

childhood bestfriend!Patrick Zweig, Never dates Tashi/Loses Art!AU, slow burn, timeskips, no content warnings

--(x)-- 1998 - 2006 --(x)--

You both grew up quite rich, you and Patrick Zweig. Going to the same charity events and galas and birthday dinners as kids because your parents would drag you both along to brag about your accomplishments. Patrick's parents would brag about how he's a tennis prodigy that's gonna go pro one day, have you seen him play? And your parents brag about your voice and your grades, how youre gonna get into any school you want (which you would be able to anyways since theyd just pay the school board). You've got the voice of an angel and since you were four they'd make you get up at parties and events and sing something by the piano. You were groomed to love the spotlight just like Patrick was groomed to love the rush of tennis.

Patrick loved hearing you sing. When you'd be ushered over to your spot by the piano player and ask the adults what they'd like to hear, Patrick would sit up from his slump at the dinner table or sofa, perking up like a dog being told its time for treats. He didn't really know anything about music, he just knew your voice did something in his chest.

You loved seeing him play. Your family had plenty of casual tennis players of its own, tennis being quite a popular sport amongst the wealthy. You understood the gist of it, but that wasn't why you asked your parents to go every time Patrick got to play. You wanted to go because it felt like the closest thing to seeing a shooting star up close. He was like a fireball on the court, even from a young age. His couches kept trying to train the unique serve out of him, you could see their cringing from the sidelines whenever he'd do it, but eventually they stopped when they realized how much he won with it. Because he did. A lot. It was mesmerizing to watch.

One Christmas the two of you finally properly spoke to eachother. You were both ten. Your parents had all gotten wine drunk in the other room, leaving the kids to try and get along in the Zweig's living room. The Christmas parties were always held at the Zweig house, it was the biggest. Didn't matter that they were Jewish. Never even crossed their mind, too big of an oppertunity to schmooze and secure business deals. Patrick never gave it a second thought, just happy he got gifts.

You two had just sat down by the fireplace as the other older kids convened on how to sneak some liquor without anyone noticing. You were too young to care about things like that, instead talking to eachother about school and your respective passions. It was the first proper conversation you'd had even though you had practically been in each other's lives since birth. Patrick liked hearing about the unserious gossip from your all-girls private school, how once again you were on the deans list and top of the class. He found it the funniest thing in the world when you confessed that you'd cheated on a math exam, your weakest subject. How you'd done that quite often actually. Patrick liked knowing you weren't as perfect as your parents boasted you to be, because that made you actually perfect in his eyes.

You liked hearing about the rowdy boys at his school and at tennis practice, and the stupid fights that would break out. Patrick would tell you about the famous tennis players his parents would get him to meet, some even practice with. How they'd comment on his serve, too, and when Patrick would imitate their voice and mannerisms, youd laugh till your stomach and cheeks hurt. Patrick decided then, at ten years old, to commit your laugh to memory. It was a sound as beautiful as your singing.

That became your routine at every dinner and every party your parents would take you to. You'd find solace and company with eachother, a rare, true friend in your world. You both never told your parents about the friendship because even then you knew they'd try and take advantage of it. Turn it into some political relationship, breed you two to marry or something for their benefits.

When Patrick's parents sent him off to the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy when you were twelve, you cried into your pillow for hours. You'd promised to write eachother, but there's only so much writing a twelve year old can do before they get distracted. Your meetings went from twice a month to once a year. The Zweig family Christmas party.

Just like when you were ten, the two of you would meet up by the crackling fireplace and swap stories, updating each other on your lives. You performed with a real live orchestra last week a version of Silent Night and your mother cried from the crowd. Patrick was sorry he couldn't be there but you handed him a CD with a recording of the night, knowing he'd want to see it, and he said it was the best Christmas gift he'd ever gotten. He hadn't even watched it yet, but he knew. The tennis racket once owned by Bjorn Borg was a pretty great gift too, though (he'd keep it hung on his dorm wall for his entire time at the academy, then later in a case in the trunk of his car to keep it safe).

He had met a kid named Art at the academy, and he talked about how they became fast friends. Best friends. You didn't really have much time for friends, too busy with school and all the extracurriculars your parents had signed you up for since birth. It was kind of like that for Patrick before he left, and you were happy he got the chance to meet someone at the academy. Art sounded great, and you wished you could meet him.

The next year you did it again, but at 15 Patrick got pneumonia on Christmas eve and couldn't come. You sat by the fireplace alone, picking lint off your sweater. Not much had changed apart from his absence. The older kids, now nearing college, were still thinking of ways to get alcohol. Some messed around with eachother in the various rooms of the house while the parents were off doing whatever parents did, not having much else to do. You stayed by yourself, watching the fire and praying to God that Patrick would be okay.

The year after, Patrick was back. He was older now, and so were you, of course. You were both 16 now, puberty catching up with the both of you in the year you hadn't seen each other.

Patrick had started properly shaving now, and when you first laid eyes on him, waiting for you by the fireplace, the slight shadow of hair on his chin and jaw was the first thing you noticed. Your eyes trailed up the stubble to his cheeks, which had lost the baby fat and now made the apples of his cheeks much more visible, especially as he smiled up at you. He called your name excitedly, standing up to meet you in a hug. You had hugged before, but he never wore cologne before. He had clearly gone through a growth spurt, too, and easily could rest his chin on your head. When you pulled back from the hug, you grabbed his shoulders and held him at arms length, just looking at him. He did the same for you, taking in the slight increase of height yourself, the more mature glow in your skin, and, since he was still only a teenage boy and still Patrick Zweig, your new boobs. His eyebrows raised, a slow and impressed whistle blew from his lips as he gave you alook. "You've grow." He smiled, and you swatted his arms while you blushed. "Look who's talking." You said, poking his biceps. Tennis academy did him good.

You had never thought about it before, but that one year apart and your reunion woke something in you up. Patrick Zweig was hot. You didn't know, but that same part of his own brain ignited. The whole night you two still talked as normal, still giggled over stories and swapped gifts. He got you a necklace made from your favorite metal, a tiny but intricate tennis racket charm hanging on the bottom. It was simple, but it was so precious.

"So I can be with you more than once a year." He explained, and you couldn't help yourself when you pulled him into the biggest hug you could manage. It was the most heartwarming gift you had ever gotten. And it made you laugh too, especially when you reached over to give him his gift.

When he opened it, his eyes widened and laughed, picking up the simple silver chain bracelet with a tiny charm of your initial on it. You were a little nervous to give it to him, worried it seemed too couple-y of a gift instead of something you'd give a friend, but now that anxiety had gone. He put it on immediately, and you were so grateful that he didn't think it was too girly or soft for him to wear. Patrick Zweig could be crude and perverted (something you realized when he let slip the way he looked at some girls back at the academy), but he wasn't insecure. Not in that way, at least.

You sat a little closer together that year, knees brushing as you caught up. Art was still his best friend and you two made plans for how you could meet. You were still singing, the Christmas time performance of yours now a yearly tradition. He was still never able to come, but he promised one day he would. The other kids were now too old to come to his house, off at college dorm parties, some even old enough to be already married and having Christmas parties of their own. The living room was much more quiet for the two of you but it's not like you ever noticed them much before. The one true new addition was the cigarette that now dangled from his lips. You had initally scolded him for the new habit but it didn't take long for it to be passed between the two of you as you spoke. You did your best to not think about how it had touched his lips and then would touch yours.

When graduation came around and it was finally time to go off to college yourself, your heart sank a little. College meant you two would be too busy with your own lives to come back, and your parents already weren't too committed to dragging you along with them to their events anymore. When you sat by the fireplace for that final year, you found you had less to talk about. Life felt pretty slow for you, especially with your lack of real friends. It was the same deal every year. School, choir, then independent vocal lessons, then horseback riding, then the youth advisory board, then tutoring. Your days were all a countdown to Christmas, the one day of the year you weren't some busy prodigal daughter with too many responsibilities on your shoulders, but Patrick Zweig's best friend. That was the only thing expected of you.

Maybe not in the way Art Donaldson was, but you were his best friend. He was the love of your life, you were sure of it.

He asked about your plans for school, and you said you'd probably go to Julliard if you got accepted. You were being humble, of course. You got your acceptance letter months ago. Patrick, not knowing that, assured you that you would. "They'd be stupid to not let you in." He smiled, cigarette balancing between his teeth and his bottom lip. You nudged your shoulder against his, thanking him for the vote of confidence. When it was your turn to ask him, he shrugged.

"Ah, I dunno." He blew smoke from the corner of his mouth, away from you. Patrick sat, thinking to himself for a moment before turning to face you. "I've been thinking about it, and... I don't think I'm gonna go." He shrugged again, and your eyebrows pulled back in surprise. "Do your parents know that?" You asked, knowing they'd never allow him. The Zweigs loved boasting about how Patrick was going to continue the family name. Tennis might be his gift, but they expected him to finally grow up and be an adult, not a tennis player.

He shook his head, turning back to the fire crackling before you. "Fuck them," he whispered with a smirk. "I'm gonna go pro. Play at challengers and shit until I rank for the bigger stuff. Play at Wimbledon or the Olympics or something. Don't wanna risk an injury at some school before I can even do anything real, you know?"

You nod your head, understanding. It made sense for him, you just were worried about how his parents would react.

"Art's gonna go to Stanford." He said, lips a little downturned at the mention. "He wants a safety net, I guess. I don't really know." He blows another puff of smoke, handing the cigarette over to you. Then he turns to you again, chuckling a little humorlessly. "Gas is gonna be a bitch, going from California to New York."

"What do you mean?"

"Going back and forth to see you and Art." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, shocked you even asked. "Guess I could fly," Patrick thought to himself, thinking over the logistics of it, then seemingly deciding it would work. "Worth it."

Your chest constricted a little at the thought of him going through all of that just to see you. You insisted that he didn't have to, that you'd gladly fly over to see him instead of the other way around, but he persisted. "You'll have school and friends and shit. I'll have plenty of time to come over. Plus, you know, phones exist." He teased.

Patrick was right. They did, of course. For some reason, though, you two never called. Never even thought about it. It was a little nonsensical and you laughed, and he joined. You promised that you'd start calling him, and he promised you the same thing.

When you hugged him before you had to leave, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Patrick."

He grinned, cheeks warming and turning pink. "I'm Jewish." He laughed, giving you a final hug. "Merry Christmas."

--(x)-- 2010 --(x)--

Graduation night at Alice Tully Hall was intense.

Four years had gone by in a flash and it was already the last week of May-- actually, it was already the end of graduation itself. Your cap was on your head and diploma in hand, the other one busy shaking the hands of the few late family and family friends that had come over to congratulate you. You were exhausted, both from the four years and from the night. All you wanted was to go to your apartment, flop onto your bed face first, and sleep the night away.

You had spent almost the entire celebration biting your nails and scanning the hall for the two pairs of eyes and smiles you wanted to see the most. When your name got called and you walked up on the stage, and your mother cried in the crowd like the night of your first concert, and your father gave you the same, unattached nod that was the closest he could get to saying he was proud of you. Patrick had told you he was gonna be late, just having finished a challenger in Philidelphia the same day. You just didn't think late meant missing the ceramony entirely.

Patrick was sitting in thick New York City traffic, banging his fist on his steering wheel, yelling at the car next to him. Art was in the passenger's seat, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You fucking moron! Dumb fucking cunt! You know how much this is gonna cost!?" Patrick yelled, pointing to the driver's door that now had a dent in it. The traffic was so heavy he couldn't move, and he didn't want to get out in case it budged. He knew he was late, and now some guy in a truck, in a fucking truck in New York City, had just bumped into the side of Patrick's car. The dent wasn't anything that would permanently damage the car, but it was pretty nasty. "Who taught your to drive?" He yelled, almost leaning fully out of the window now. Art reached over to pull at the back of his shirt, trying to get him back in. "Are you blind!? We're in the middle of traffic and you still managed to hit me?"

"Christ, Patrick, get back in the fucking car!"

Patrick swatted his hand away. "My best friend is graduating and now I gotta pick her up with this shit on my car. What's your insurance!? I'm gonna sue the shit out of you!"

Cars started beeping at him and the driver in the truck was yelling back just as colorfully. "That piece of dog shit almost looks better with it! You should be fucking thanking me, asshole. Maybe your insurance will give you a better car!"

"A better car!?" Patrick was red in the face. "Why don't you let me return the favor then!"

"Oh, shit." Art was scrambling over the center console to really pull him back, knowing it was seconds away from getting violent.

--(x)--

You were leaning against the front doors playing with the tennis racket necklace you had never taken off when you got a call from Art. You had gotten it from him the first time you met him freshman year, it being the one connection you had to each other for the whole school year. He had become a really close friend of yours, even through he grainy speakers of your phone. You picked it up eagerly, the first thing you could hear being angry beeping in the background and a voice that sounded like Patrick yelling.

"Art? Where are you guys? What's going on?"

"Oh my god," Art said your name, a little frantic. "Okay, so, uh, we're running late, I know-" there's some shuffling you can hear, and you cut in. "The ceremony is already over." You tell them, a little disappointed. Art frowns but his attention is pulled back to the situation at hand.

"Congrats on graduating! Um, anyways, I called cause Patrick's kinda losing his shit right now. Some guy hit his car--"

"Oh my god! Are you guys alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine. It's just a dent. But now the two are in the middle of the street and Patrick's getting his ass kicked." He sounds nervous, because of course he is. His best friend is catching fists to the face. "I tried to help..." Art continues, and his hand goes back up to touch the future black eye he's now sporting. "But, um, I just wanted to let you know that I don't think we'll make it over-"

In the background, Patrick interrupts, managing to gather the strength to push the giant man from on top of him. "Oh, we're making it!" He yells out loud enough that you can just hear it over the speaker, then throws another punch at the guy's jaw. Patrick's nose was bleeding and his eyebrow was cut, and the other guy wasn't looking all that great either. He spat at the guy, adding "You made me miss her graduation." with another punch.

The cars around them suddenly started move, and the two friends froze. Traffic was moving again. The guy got another good punch onto Patrick before he was able to scramble up and run back to his car, yelling at Art to start driving before the guy caught up.

They finally got to Lincoln Center looking like a pair of hot messes and you spent the weekend in your apartment with them sleeping over, caring for their cuts and bruises and catching up, smoking out your apartment window. It was the best weekend you'd had in years.

--(x)-- 2019 --(x)--

The crowd cheering was deafening, and the spotlight was blinding. Nonetheless, you took a bow, thanking the audience for the night. Your hand reached out to the orchestra and another round of applause boomed. Nobody could smile bigger than your were. No one could beat the butterflies in your stomach.

It was the week before Christmas, and just like you had since you were 12, you were performing a concert. This time however it wasn't on a small stage at a theater in your hometown, but at Alice Tully Hall in New York City, the same hall you had graduated in nine years ago.

The lights dimmed and that was your cue to leave, first excitingly hugging the musicians who played so beautifully that night. You thanked them all, wished them a happy holiday, and walked off stage. Waiting for you, as always, stood Patrick Zweig.

The years had done him well. Tennis kept him built like a marble statue, age refined his features, and his own laziness left the slightly auburn stubble on his cheeks to grow out. He was wearing the one tux he still owned, slightly tight around the arms and legs as he outgrew it.

Patrick had long cut contact with his parents, becoming financially independent (much to the dismay of his bank account), and no longer had to deal with the constant phone calls about how he was letting down the Zweig name with his tennis career. The days of them bragging about his talent were long gone, it was meant to be a hobby, not a career. Who was going to take over the Zweig family business now? He couldn't give less of a fuck. His designer wardrobe slowly sold off to pay for all the gas he consumed driving from matches to his best friends throughout the years, shedding his past with every article of clothing.

Patrick made sure to never repeat the same mistake as your graduation. At every event, he was there. Early, if possible. Never joining tournaments or challengers held on the same day as important events like tonight, not that there really were any on Christmas Eve. He made sure to make up for all the time you weren't together growing up.

Patrick held a bunch of roses in his hands for you as you approached, enveloping him in a hug. "Flowers are from the three of us." He spoke into your hair, referring to him, Art, and Art's wife Tashi. Free hand wrapping around your shoulder to squeeze you back with equal amounts of love. "Lily even made you a card. You were incredible, like always. Incredible."

You smiled up at him, kissing his cheek before hugging again. When you pull back, you look around him for the aforementioned Donaldsons. "They're waiting for Art to finish pissing. Whole night he kept complaining, drank too much water on the ride here but idiot didn't want to get up in the middle of your show and go." He chuckled, handing you the bouquet. You loop your arm into his, the feeling of him grounding you after the intense rush of adrenaline and emotions that came with performing to such a large audience or such a special night. Walking out into the main hall together, a couple people greet and shake your hand, some asking for pictures. A person even recognized Patrick, which was quite uncommon with his career now dwindling down an unfortunate and unsuccessful path (You were sure any day now he was gonna pick back up and climb the ranking again. You made sure to tell him after every match).

The two of you leaned against a wall as the attention died down and people began going home. In your heels, you were tall enough to rest your head comfortable on Patrick's shoulder. He smiled at the gesture, leaning his head on yours. Closing your eyes, you took in the whole night. The fading adrenaline, the sweat that gathered on your forehead drying, the sound of the crowd getting quieter by the second. The material of Patrick's tux on your cheek and ear, his steady and relaxed breathing, the warmth of his embrace, the musky cologne he had been using since he was a teenager.

Patrick enjoyed the moments alone he had with you. He wasn't Patrick Zweig the failed heir to the Zweig throne just like how he was a failed tennis player. He was Patrick Zweig, your best friend. That was the only thing expected of him.

Longer than Art Donaldson ever was. You were the love of his life, he was sure of it.

He inhaled the scent of your hair and your perfume, arm wrapped around your shoulder as his thumb rubbed comforting circles on it. When he closed his eyes, he replayed how you looked on the stage while you sang. You were as beautiful as your voice. Always had been, always will be. Every performance of yours took him back to when things were much simpler, when he'd watch you by their otherwise untouched piano at formal dinners and you'd sing a Sinatra song for the parents. He could almost taste the roasted chicken, almost feel the silverware in his hands.

Your hand reached up to your chest and your fingers played with the little tennis racket charm, a habit you'd had for years. Patrick loved knowing you kept the necklace on after all this time, even on nights like this where you could've replaced it with something much more grand and expensive.

He had never taken his bracelet off. Even in the brief relationships or hookups he'd have and partners would question what the initial stood for. He'd never answer, just tell them it was important to him.

You opened your eyes again when the sound of little feet in little shoes click-clacked on the tile floor towards you, your name exclaimed from eager lips. Lily bounded up to you, her honerary aunt, and wrapped her arms around your waist. Art and Tashi followed behind her.

Lily pulled back from the hug, looking up at you. "You were like a superstar!" She beamed, one of her front teeth missing. You hug Art and Tashi who compliment your dress and your performance before leaving with them to the dinner reservation you all had, Patrick's arm still around your shoulder as you walked.

At dinner, through mouthfulls of spaghetti, Lily asked you constant questions about what it's like to sing and be on stage. You answered every single one, and at the end of her little interview she made an announcement. "When I grow up I wanna be a tennis player like mommy and daddy," she started, Tashi scolding her to stop talking while she's eating as she wiped with a napkin at the corners of her daughter's mouth. Art's bottom lip jutted out in a little pout, melting in the hands of his daughter. "But, I wanna be a singer-tennis player. So I can wear pretty dresses like you."

You laugh, coming to Tashi's defense. "Your mom wears gorgeous dresses, Lily."

"Yeah, but she doesn't wear them on a stage. I wanna do that."

Point proved, you shrug. Patrick turns to look at you as he's sitting directly beside you. He doesn't say anything, just admires you under the dim and moody lighting of the resteraunt as you talk with Lily, resting his chin in his hand and smiling into his palm. Art and Tashi share a knowing look.

The night decidingly comes to an end when the couple announces they need to put Lily to bed.

"I'm not twenty anymore," Tashi says, handing the bill to the waiting server. "I knock out at ten P.M."

Patrick drove you home like you agreed, and it was assumed he'd stay the night like he often did on your couch. As you changed into more comfortable clothes in your room, he grabbed his own clothes from the trunk of his car and changed in your bathroom. Afterward, he silently observed as you washed off your makeup and took down your hair from its simple updo. It felt domestic. It felt like something a boyfriend does with his girlfriend after a long day. Patrick let himself pretend for a moment that that's exactly what was happening.

When you were done the two of you sat on the couch and cuddled, debating on what movie to wind down to as you settled into his arms as he laid his head against the arm rest.

"Home Alone?" You ask, grabbing the remote and flicking through the options. He shook his head.

"Watched that with Art and Lily just last week. What about Elf?"

You agree, and the movie begins to play. The volume's low and you spend more time talking to each other than actually watching, one of your hands on the arm wrapped around your chest scratching up and down and the other resting on your stomach. Patrick's hand on your chest toyed with your necklace while the other arm rested on your head, lazily scratching as you watched and talked. Neither of you realized when you both fell asleep there.

The sun rising through your window wakes you up, the light bright against your eyelids. You shifted a little, lifting your head but keeping your eyes closed. The first thing your senses picked up on was the warm body of Patrick underneath you, steady rising and falling breaths and the lignering scent of the cologne he applied yesterday still faintly on his skin. His hands were still on your chest and head when you woke up, sliding off when you moved to look at him.

The stresses of adulthood were almost undetectable on his face. Patrick had the same freckles littering his skin that he had as a kid, and you used to tell him that in a crowd of identical people you'd be able to pick him out just by the freckles on his waterline. Did that make sense? Probably not, but it did when you were fourteen. You didn't really care, to be honest, just wanting him to open his eyes so you could see the freckles there again.

As if he could hear your thoughts, his eyelashed fluttered before opening. The first thing he saw was you.

Like an angel. His tired brain though for a moment he died and went to heaven.

"Goodmorning." He rasped, morning voice deep and scratchy. You smiled, looking out the window at the falling snow. "Merry Christmas." You say instead. "I'm Jewish," He chuckled, a hand raising to brush a strand of hair from your face before whispering "Merry Christmas" back. He said the same thing every year.

You stayed silent like that, laying on his chest and just staring at him as he played with your hair. There was some sort of unsaid agreement between the two of you, something your souls communicated with each other without your knowlage as you slept. Patrick felt like his heart could stop at any moment with how etheral you felt.

"What do you want for Christmas?" He asked, breaking the quiet in the room and whispering it like a secret.

Your eyes moved from his to his lips, and at the action his tongue darted out to lick them. It felt like the 21 years you had been best friends slipped away from your fingers and had gone. Time was gone. Reason was gone. The only thing left in the entire world was you, him, and the couch. You knew what you wanted. You had wanted it since you were sixteen. He's sure he's wanted it since the creation of his soul.

His hand moved from your hair to your jaw, both of you slightly breathless, eyes on the other's lips. His calloused hands told you, you weren't dreaming despire how hazy reality felt. His breath on your lips told you, you were still alive despite how heaven-like reality felt.

Patrick leaned in, his nose rubbing on yours and your foreheads touching, lips mere centimeters apart, eyes barely open. His best friend. His soulmate. He was never whole when he wasn't around you.

He kissed you on Christmas morning, the charm of your inital on his bracelet tickling your shoulder, the tennis racket on your necklace resting on his chest.

[barleyo]

Red Wings.

Recom! Miles Quaritch X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: Hello, lovelies! This drabble is a big “Don’t like? Don’t read!” situation. Be sure to read the tags to be sure it doesn’t involve anything that makes you uncomfortable, and if it does, feel free to scroll right past this! No need to comment on the post if you don’t like the subject matter, as it’s never okay to “yuck” somebody else’s “yum.” Remember, by clicking on the "read more" button, you're agreeing that you do in fact want to "read more." Love you all bunches, happy reading!

Wordcount: 1.3K

Tags: period sex, blood play, menstruation, p in v, fingering, vaginal sex, wet and messy sex, sleepy sex

Tagged users: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

(Y/N) felt herself sweating. Even while half-asleep, she could feel how drenched her arms, legs, and face were. It wasn’t the work of the warm body next to her, and certainly not any of the few articles of clothing she had worn to bed. Sweat drenched the sheets under her, coating her ass and thighs in an unpleasant stickiness. 

The soaked clothing and sheets were not just from sweat, she realized as a tight cramp made its way to her abdomen. 

Normally, it would not have been a problem. Had she been sleeping alone in her own room, she could have simply stripped the bed and washed herself up, however, she could not do so in Colonel Quaritch’s room. 

Trying to slip out of his toned, blue arms, she squirmed and pushed at his hands. 

“Miles,” she whispered his name, smacking at his hand to wake him up. She felt a chuckle hitch in his throat. “Miles, I know you’re up. Let go of me.”

“Hush, girl. Go back to bed. Wakin’ me up for no reason.” He yawned and tightened his grip.

“Miles, let go. I bled on your sheets.”

Quaritch released her from his grip and sat up, lifting the blankets up to reveal the fresh, crimson stains on his white sheets. 

(Y/N) stared at the large, splotchy stain. Quickly removing her shirt, she tried to dab at the mark until Miles took the shirt from her hands. 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s okay–”

“No, it’s not okay,” she sighed, holding her arms over her stomach. “Look at the stain, it’s never gonna come out.” Holding the thin material of the sheet, she noticed how her blood had seeped down to the mattress, staining it as well. “It’s never gonna come out,” (Y/N) repeated. Tears pricked her eyes and she coughed, trying to catch her breath as she felt her chest tighten. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Quaritch turned on a small wall lamp near his bed and eyed the discoloration on his bed. He paused for a moment before speaking. 

“The hell are you apologizing for?” his tone was blunt when he asked. 

“The mess, the mess I made.” She pointed at it. “See? It’s awful, I am so sorry. Here, I’ll just go to my own room, sorry.” She flipped herself around on his bed and tried to get up, prepared to return to her own bed to get cleaned up. 

She felt his grip wrap around her waist and hoist her back, placing her body in between his legs.

“No, I want you to stay, n’ I want you to stop apologizin’ for nothing,” Quartich said while resting his large hands over her lower stomach, slowly kneading and massaging it.

“You aren’t upset with me?” (Y/N) asked, leaning her head against Miles’ chest, not quite tall enough to reach his shoulder. 

“It’s nothin’ that you can control, could never be mad at you for that.”

She sat between his legs for a few moments, enjoying how the pads of his fingers danced around her lower abdomen, applying pressure where it was needed. It felt nice, but it had not eased her cramps fully. She hissed at the stinging jabs in her stomach every then and again. 

Quaritch’s hands slowly crept down past the waistband of her panties, dipping under them before (Y/N) grabbed his wrist. 

“Miles, what are you doing?” She turned around and looked at him, eyes still doey and glossy from the few tears that had slipped out earlier. 

“Just trying to make you feel better.”

“No, you don’t want to do that,” she tried to pull her hand out of her panties, “it’s all gross and messy, you won’t like it.”

“Nothin’ about you is gross, believe me.” He shook her hand off and returned to exploring her cunt.

She tried again to fight him on it until his fingers found her clit. “No, it’s icky–” her voice caught in her throat as if her words were fighting against her moans.

“Darlin’, you need to hush now and let me take care of you. You can get washed up as soon as we’re done, yeah?”

Biting her bottom lip to stifle her cries, she nodded, unable to verbally respond.

A thick, metallic smell filled his sensitive nostrils when he pulled her underwear past her ankles, throwing them into the corner of his room. His nose crinkled as he sniffed harder, leaning over (Y/N)’s shoulder to get a better grasp at the scent. 

“Are you smelling me?” she asked, horrified. 

“Yes. You smell…” he paused, considering his word choice, “primal.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Y’smell like prey. Dunno how to describe it, but it’s drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy over here,” he said into her ear, nose still twitching and crinkling. His boxers grew tight and tented. 

Pushing into her slick hole, he slipped right in, letting his fingers be engulfed by her cunt. Reaching around with his other hand, he circled her swollen clit, lightly tracing the bud. 

“Oh God, don’t stop,” she whined, hips lifting to follow Quaritch’s ghost-like touches on her clit.

He hummed and applied more pressure. Usually, he would’ve pulled away completely to tease her. Not tonight. Tonight was about her pleasure. 

Miles’ fingers continued to pump in and out of her, setting a steady pace to match the bucking of her hips, until he pushed his two digits as far as they would go, curling them and latching onto her sensitive spot. 

“Ah–” her thighs clenched over his hand and trapped it while she rode out her climax, hips stuttering and rocking into his arm. 

Her thighs relaxed and Miles put his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue. He pulled them out of his mouth with an obnoxiously loud pop.

“What? Did you really just do that?

“Yes I did.” He pulled her up lightly and slipped his cock into her. “Problem?” He barely had to push into her walls. She was slippery, and was able to fit most of his length with no problem, the stretch of his length being less noticeable than usual.

“God, you’re so gross,” (Y/N) tried to say disgustedly, but her tone was interrupted by a deep, grumbling moan that came from her chest. 

“Yeah? Maybe a lil bit,” Miles chuckled, burying his face into (Y/N)’s neck.

Holding her hips, he slowly lifted her and brought her back down on his length. The still bloodied tips of his fingers left red marks across her thighs and hips and he moved her, and the movement left a sheer crimson tint coated over his dick. 

“You know,” he said into her neck, muffled, “I can hardly tell if you’re bleedin’ a lot or just super fuckin’ wet. Starting to think it’s both, baby.”

She ignored his teasing and instead focused on how dangerously close she was coming to climaxing. Her walls fluttered lightly over him and she knew he noticed by how his breath hitched when it happened. 

“Gonna cum? Hm?”

“Yes, ‘m so close,” she said, holding one of the arms resting on her hip to steady herself. “Can I?”

“Don’t gotta ask tonight, baby. When you’re ready, you go ahead,” Quaritch groaned, baring his teeth as he felt his own orgasm approach. 

(Y/N) clamped down on him like a vice, holding him in place as she gushed and leaked. He found himself feeling much the same when spurts of cum came out of his cock.

A light pink mixture dripped from her hole, gliding down her thighs and onto the bed spread when Quaritch laid her back down on her side.

Her cramps had faded a bit, and while she was twice as sweaty as she had been, she felt like she could fall back asleep. 

“You really weren’t grossed out by it?” she asked again, still feeling self conscious. 

Miles turned her around to face him, a serious look spreading over his face.

“Not at all. Hell, I’d lick your pretty, little, red cunt now if you wanted me to.”

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty, Miles Quaritch.” She threw her pillow at his face, turning back away from him, but snuggling back into his chest. “I love you, though.”

[esmedelacroix]

1 day til' Christmas

spending a snowstorm with husband!miguel o'hara on christmas eve⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

2 days til' christmas ← previous part

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

It was the last day of keeping your pregnancy from Miguel and you couldn't be happier; tomorrow he would open his last Christmas gift and see a positive pregnancy test. You couldn't wait to share this great news with him.

The plan was to go to the hospital that morning but you miraculously got snowed in and you hadn't vomited that morning making it crucial to take it slow when drinking and eating.

Normally on Christmas Eve, the two of you shared a bottle of red wine and finished wrapping presents for each other and family and friends.

This Christmas, you would do the same but instead of wine, you’d have eggnog. Every single holiday Miguel is reminded that you hate the idea of egg nog. “Who would ever eat egg milk? That’s weird,” you said.

“I drink said, ‘egg milk’, it's one of my holiday comfort drinks,” Miguel would respond.

“I know but—“ you’d start.

“Please don’t yuck my yum,” he joked.

“You’ve never even tried it before,” he continued.

You still had never tried eggnog but now you had a feeling that you’d like it. You took a small sip and your taste buds did pirouettes. Eggnog tasted like a sweet vanilla-flavored version of milk.

“This is good!” you exclaimed.

“Told ya,” Miguel responded as he began to wrap up personalized Fender guitar picks. He always swore Hobie got on his nerves but he still cared. Enough to get him such a valuable yet thoughtful gift.

The two of you enjoyed your drinks and marveled at the gifts you got each other. It was never really. a surprise on Christmas day since you always wrapped everything together. There were one or two gifts that the two of you wanted to keep a surprise including yours. "What's this?" Miguel asked as he picked up a small rectangular box that had his name on it.

"That's your gift but I want it to be a surprise," you replied.

"Hmm, interesting," he replied as he put the gift down thinking it was something like a watch or a ridiculously expensive pen like the years before.

After two hours you were finally done wrapping all the gifts. You were both famished afterward. You were heavily craving some hot chocolate and marshmallows but you didn't have any marshmallows. On top of that, the two of you couldn't leave your home because of the snowstorm.

Thankfully out of all of the random things that Miguel knows how to do, making marshmallows was one of them. You thankfully had all the ingredients, you tried to follow along but it was way too complicated. You sat on your kitchen island and asked him questions while he skillfully made the marshmallows.

You purposefully asked the dumbest random questions and he found it hilarious. While he was letting the marshmallows sit, he let you lick the bowl like you were a child again making cookies with a loved one that let you try the dough.

The two of you had prepared dinner while waiting for the marshmallows to finish setting. Christmas Eve dinner was my favorite because it was breakfast for dinner. This year's menu was eggnog French toast with cranberry jam and cheesy omelets with spinach and tomatoes in them.

In perfect timing, right after the two of you finished eating and cleaning up after your meal, the marshmallows were done. The two of you got comfy and cuddled on the couch wrapped in blankets watching Holidate with mugs with steaming hot cocoa in hand.

The night was perfect and your heart raced with excitement of what was to come the next morning. You fell asleep halfway through the movie so Miguel carried you to your shared room.

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

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The lovers were nestled all snug in their bed

While visions of a baby shower danced in your head

Santa sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

. . .

to be continued → Christmas Special

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

taglist: @aripet22@to-the-endoftheline@sad-author-san

[minotaur-asterion]

Fellas, I haven’t written a post like this in five years, and I hoped I’d never have to, but here we are. Recently I’ve been seeing a couple posts in the Slay the Princess tag spreading negativity: complaining about certain characters getting more attention and different treatment, implying rather serious things about people who prefer one character over the others, generally trying to start drama. (That is what I assume the posts are meant to do, since I would hope everyone remembers that if you don’t have anything nice to say...) The topic of community within this fandom is very important to me so I feel it’s necessary to give a very gentle reminder of what the game is all about.

Attempting to shame other people for focusing on specific characters is horribly inappropriate. The game only has three characters, and there’s not much room to ignore any of them given their importance to the story. If people love the Princess, that’s because she’s literally in the title of the game; if people love the Long Quiet, that’s because they are an expression of you as the player; if people love the voices and the Narrator, that’s because they act as your companions throughout the game.

I’m really glad that most of us appreciate all the characters! But you cannot expect every single person to have the exact same opinions about every character. We all come from different walks of life and we will all have our own specific reasons for loving a certain character more or less. Whether you understand these reasons or you’re making general assumptions about why they’re particularly drawn to them, it isn’t okay to be rude about it. As the saying goes: “don’t yuck someone else’s yum.”

It truly makes me sad to see that, considering this game is about perspectives (especially perspectives that conflict), some Slay the Princess fans refuse to extend the courtesy of hearing someone out- and, barring that, leaving them alone. Seriously, if something bothers you there’s a block button!

There is, of course, nuance; if you’re speaking with a friend group in private and everyone has explicitly stated this kind of behavior is acceptable, then have at it. My problem is when people do it to random strangers- they are not engaging in fandom to listen to others rag on about them and insinuate things like misogyny and misandry.

Kindness is free, don’t forget to like and subscribe, etc.

[finnofamerica]

Professor, Please - Dr. Ian Malcolm x Reader || Fluff \ Smut

Summary: When your grades slip due to your fantasizing about your sexy professor, you would do damn near anything to get your grades back up.

Prompt: Would you be comfy with writing, professor! Ian x student!f!reader??? Like they started fucking because of “grades but in reality, they’re both head over heels for each other

Word Count: 1,179

Date Posted: 05.13.23

TW: Breeding, Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Nipple Play, Praise, Slight Edging, Teacher/Student Relationship.

Note: Remember that kink is customizable, and there is no right way to do it as long as you’re keeping safe. We play by Safe, Sane, and Consensual here, but there is also Risk Aware Consensual Kink and Personal Responsibility, Informed Consensual Kink. Don’t yuck anyone’s yum, I am willing to answer any questions that I can.

🔞MINORS DO NOT INTERACT🔞

|| Request Here || Masterlist || Fandoms/Characters || Req. by Anon

You were completely zoned in class. The only thought in your brain was how much you wanted to go home and rub one out so you could get back to work.  Not that you didn’t enjoy the subject. You thought that Chaos Theory was fascinating. It wasn’t your fault you were so out of it. The professor was the cause of your distracted state. 

Dr. Ian Malcolm was sex on legs, and arousal burned in you from the moment you first stepped into his class at the beginning of the semester. Black dress shirt partially unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, dark jeans that accentuated the length of his legs, paired with black boots - You practically came on the spot. Dr. Malcolm had these long, lithe fingers that you caught yourself fantasizing about constantly. 

“Class dismissed,” Ian called out. The sudden movement of your classmates snapped you back into reality. You’d missed the entire lecture. “Miss Y/L/N, I need to have a word with you before you leave.” 

Shit. Your stomach fell out of your ass. You packed your things into your backpack, hands shaking. You slung your backpack over your shoulder and nervously adjusted your shorts that had ridden up and settled into the crease between your hips and your thighs. You weren’t sure your legs would hold you up as you made your way down to the lectern at the front of the lecture hall. You could practically feel his gaze burning into you as his eyes followed you down the aisle. 

“Y/N, right? Is it all right if I call you that?” He asked, leaning casually against the lectern, arms folded over his chest, pulling his shirt open just enough for you to get a peak at his chest hair. 

“Yes, Sir, that’s fine.” You swallowed thickly, forcing your eyes to his. 

“Y/n, are you aware that your grades in this class are abysmal? Is everything okay? You seem distracted.” 

Of course, he could see right through you. 

“I’m sorry, Dr. Malcolm. I will try to be more focused in the future.” 

“At this rate, Y/n, you’re not going to pass this class. Even if you manage to focus up for the rest of the semester.” He sighed disappointedly.  “It's a shame, and You were recommended highly by the other professors when you signed up for this class.” 

“Professor, please, I will do almost anything to improve my grades. I can’t afford to fail this class.” 

“Why don’t we head back to my office to discuss your options.” 

You gripped Ian’s desk tightly, muffling your moans with your hand. Your shorts were pulled down around your thighs, just enough for him to slide in between your legs; your thong was pulled off to the side, the thin fabric surely soaked. 

“Fuck, Professor, please,” You moaned into your hand as he railed you from behind, one of his hands wrapped up in your hair. 

“God, you feel good, Y/n,” Ian growled, grip on your hair tightening. 

“Thank you, Professor,” You gasped out between thrusts. 

“You on birth control?”

“Yes, Professor.” 

“Good, ‘cus I’m not pulling out.” 

Your pussy clenched around him, a flood of arousal soaking his cock. 

“You just got so wet, Baby,” He tugged on your hair so he could growl in your ear, “Do you like the idea of me filling you with my seed?” 

“Yes, Professor,” You moaned as he slowed his thrusts just enough to give you a breather.

“Fuck,” He chuckled, “You’re a little slut, huh?” 

You whimpered underneath him. The threat of someone walking in on the two of you was not far from your mind. With the way that he was fucking you, you couldn’t care less if someone found you. 

“Just for you, Professor.” 

He thrust fast into you, your little breather over. The sound of skin slapping skin and moaning filling his office. He reached his free hand around your front, cupping your breast. Your nipples were stiff against his warm palm. The scratching of your bra against your taught had you whimpering beneath him. It was just enough to get you to the edge but not get you off. You would have given anything to orgasm while his cock was still buried inside you. 

“Tell me you want me to come in you,” Ian demanded, close to orgasm himself. 

“I want you to come in me, Professor, please,” You whined, desperate to tip over the edge yourself. His thrusts stuttered, and he buried himself as deep as he could in your pussy. You could feel his cock twitching as he spilled inside you. 

Slowly he pulled out, dropping to his knees. 

“What‘re you-” 

Your question was cut off by a long swipe of his tongue up your pussy, cleaning up the mess he’d made. He flicked his tongue against your clit, trying out different speeds and motions until he found the one that made you weak in the knees. 

You’d had a few boyfriends in your life, but none could compare to the way this man was devouring you. Ian was like a man starved. He was eating you out like you were his last meal. 

“Fuck, Professor, Please, I can’t take much more,” You whined. He gripped your thighs tightly but said nothing. The message was clear; you were not going anywhere until you came on his tongue. It was like every nerve in you was set on fire, as even your face began to tingle. You were so close, and that hot coil began to twist in your stomach. The eruption was imminent. Your legs spasmed beneath you as you orgasmed hard against his tongue, whimpering some form of his name. 

“Good girl,” He cooed as he tucked your thong back in place and pulled your shorts back up over your ass. “Meet with me every other week after class.” 

“Yes, Professor,” You nodded as you righted yourself, hoping to calm your flushed face before you left his office. 

“I expect you to focus in future classes, Y/n,” Ian said seriously, two fingers tucked underneath your chin so you couldn’t shy away from him. 

You were hooked on him ever since. Bi-weekly meetings in his office soon weren’t enough for either of you. You’d begun sneaking off to his condo in the middle of the night after your roommates were long asleep. Hookups turned into him making you dinner and stuttering excuses to your roommates when you spent the night. 

Tonight you were wrapped up in his arms, lying on the couch as some movie you weren’t really paying attention to played on the television. You drew lazy circles on his chest as he rubbed your back gently. You couldn’t imagine a more beautiful man at this moment. 

“What?” He chuckled softly as he caught you staring. 

“Nothin’. I just love you.” You were so relaxed it took you a full moment for your brain to catch up with your words. Neither of you had said it until this moment. 

Ian smiled, “I love you too.” 

Tags: @glowstick-anon

[sunnybyler]

i’ve been sitting on my thoughts for so long but i just have to get this off my chest. i don’t like to yuck ppls yum so if you like e/riel pls scroll away nd keep having your fun it’s not my problem. however some of y’all can get mean as HELL and as an elucien i have to get this off my chest. (also warning for gwynriels i’m with y’all i defend y’all here however i do go in a bit on az in this so fair warning). i truly have no idea why e/riels cling so hard to the azriel bonus chapter in acosf because that chapter, more than literally anything else in the series, proved to me that e/riel is absolutely NOT going to be endgame. let me explain:

1. it is explicitly stated that azriel did not think of his relationship with elain outside of a sexual nature. i think some ppl get kinda annoyingly puritanical when trying to make this point when it’s like 100% certain lucien had sexual thoughts of elain too. the point isn’t the thoughts themselves. the difference here is the explicit mention that he didn’t consider anything with her outside of that.

2. the point above ^ is further exacerbated by the fact that az did not give a flying fuck if he killed elain’s MATE. even if elain hasn’t accepted the bond, it would still be extremely painful for her based on what we’ve seen with rhys, feyre, and even rhys’s parents (who weren’t good for each other, yet we saw how rhys’s dad lost it when she died). now of course us lucien lovers know damn well he would never in a million years call a blood duel to try to claim elain (and fuck u rhys for saying that, i usually have your back but come ON you are not the only male who can respect their mate’s autonomy). but az doesn’t know that!? in fact seems to agree with rhys that he could. ppl argue on who would win that fight — my opinion hinges 100% on if powers are fully unleashed but that’s not the point at all. no matter WHO wins, elain is going to feel responsible for someone’s death. of course it wouldn’t be her fault if men decided to be fucking stupid, but with the little we know about elain shows that she would feel so guilty if that happened. but azriel doesn’t seem to give af that anyone fighting to the death over her is the last thing she would ever want. not only did az not think of elain outside his fantasies and therefore not fully care for her, but he doesn’t seem to even KNOW elain in this chapter. now, i could go in on this in acosf as a whole. but i’m keeping it to this chapter alone.

3. and further on THAT point, az doesn’t really give any reasoning on his interest in elain outside of this insane “three brothers/three sisters” thing he fully pulled out of his ass. tbh i almost thing this is sjm’s way of addressing the fan theories on that. now i get it to some extent from az’s pov — seeing his brothers happy with these sisters must fuck with your head after you’d all been bachelors together for 500 years. especially considering how he’s felt unworthy of love his whole life and this seems to support that insecurity of his. i get that it makes him feel ostracized from them, and that he’s now an outlier not being with an archeron. i get that. i do. i sympathize with him here. however that does not change the fact that he isn’t speaking of elain like she’s her own individual here — hell he fully calls her “the other”. i think part of this conversation was him being frazzled, i give him a bit more grace than some do (tho he pissed me off BAD in this scene), but we were fully in this man’s head. did he give us a full reason why he liked elain besides his brother’s mates and his sexual thoughts?? they would’ve at least crossed his mind when rhys was grilling them if sjm was trying to set up her next romance here. as it is, we have literally nothing to imply azriel actually likes elain herself and not the idea of being closer with his brothers.

4. az has kinda a habit of ignoring the reality of the women he’s attracted to in some way. he has his own version of them in his head that he puts on a pedestal. now i could do a whole psych eval on this man and how he thinks he’s unworthy of love and therefore only allows himself to have feelings for women he knows/thinks he can’t have. but to focus on this chapter alone, my points above ^ about how he doesn’t really think of elain outside his fantasies/bringing him closer to his brothers and not really understanding her pretty much wraps it up there. i mean he even talks about how he thinks his scarred hands don’t belong on her because she’s so perfect in his eyes. that’s not love, that’s obsession and it’s unhealthy. he clearly thinks himself below elain and ignores that she has her own flaws too.

5. aaaand i saved the biggest for (almost) last….. GWYN. this is a genuine GENUINE question. why in the fucking hell. would sjm make half the chapter focusing on az & gwyn if she was teasing e/riel. like that makes no sense. not to be annoying and mention chekhov's gun but that idea applies to relationships too. i’m sorry but she couldn’t be more explicit about her future romances. you could argue “oh well it’s because there’s gonna be a love triangle”. y’all. elain has. elain has a mate. there already IS a love triangle. there was absolutely no reason for her to bring gwyn into this chapter other than her preparing us for a future relationship, literally none. especially with all the romantic subtext (hell not even subtext, just TEXT). gwyn getting him to talk about himself so easily when he’s so quiet usually, him taking the idea of making her happy and he “buried the image down deep, where it GLOWED QUIETLY” (which SCREAMS mating bond to me but even if it’s not it’s clearly something he cherishes deeply), the SHADOWSINGERS SHADOWS SANG FOR HER!?

6. the fucking necklace regifting. oh it’s bad. OHHH ITS BAD. when the girls realize it’s gonna be SO messy but im hoping sjm doesn’t go the stupid cat fight route bc neither of them did anything wrong. az did. i’m sorry i’m dunking on him so much in this post i rlly don’t hate him i just think he needs like decades of therapy (which tbf don’t we all) which i unfortunately don’t think sjm is going to give him before giving him his romance. but even the biggest azriel lovers have to admit that this was insanity. a few points on it here. first, if it’s so easily regiftable then it couldn’t have been that well thought out in regards to elain. say what you will about lucien’s gifts, even argue that he gave her jewelry too. but elain was actually shown wearing pearls. az’s gift seemed shallow to me — it was something pretty, and elain’s pretty, and it had a flower, and elain gardens. it’s clear lucien put SO much more thought into his gifts, whether he succeeded or not (which i need to remind y’all — we still don’t know. maybe she liked the gifts maybe she didn’t, but regardless she acted the way she did bc of her feelings about the bond, not the gift). and azriel has spent so much more time with elain than lucien has. if that necklace really felt like elain to him, he could’ve kept it or returned it. but nope. buddy gave it to a whole other girl bc he could easily associate it with someone else. he clearly felt some special pull towards gwyn too, going out of his way to give it to her. he had ONE meaningful conversation with her. i already discussed the quote earlier that makes me think mating bond personally. but no matter what, him giving her the same gift he gave someone he was pursuing romantically is a clear sign of what’s to come (and probably a setup for some sort of drama that i don’t think im mentally ready for).

so there we have it! why i think that the bonus chapter thoroughly proves that e/riel is not going to be endgame. i honestly think it’s possible they might be a thing for a minute (tho i could also see this being the closing of that chapter), but i don’t think it’s going to last. sjm just gave us too many blatant hints that elain and az would NOT work together long term, and that azriel in particular is more suited for someone else. i might’ve missed some points bc there is SO much that goes down in this tiny chapter so lmk if there’s other stuff you picked up on!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey sex witch, are those Kegel Training balls worth it, or are they a scam? For clarity, The kind you insert and leave in for a bit that are supposed to “activate your muscles” (that’s what the description says) and I find the whole thing very interesting (and maybe a little hot idk it’s a free country I’m allowed to find things hot) but I don’t want to waste my money on bullshit products

hi anon,

so pelvic floor training can for sure be effective for helping issues like vaginismus and incontinence, but I would proceed with caution if you aren't pursuing it for medical reasons. you are absolutely allowed to find anything hot that you want and I'm genuinely not trying to yuck your yum, but as with any form of muscular exercise it's very possible to overstrain your pelvic floor muscles and leave them much weaker than they started out if you go at it with more enthusiasm than proper form.