#schoolgirls in peril

[submission4]

“Let’s get these two fellows tied up, Bunty!”

“Let’s get these two fellows tied up, Bunty!” said fair-haired Clara grimly as the two young thieves, trapped against the cliffs by the rapidly incoming tide, turned at bay, desperately raised their hands in surrender and begged for rescue by the two pursuing girls.

“Right-o!” replied Bunty. “We’ll teach these louts not to steal from the St Monica’s trophy room!” and she hurried off to fetch a coil of rope from a dingy bobbing on the encroaching waves. “Please hurry up, miss!” the terrified Bernard beseeched. “We really don’t want to drown!” Bunty looked scornfully at her two prisoners. “Gosh, you types are always such blubbers, aren’t you?” she said contemptuously. “Face the cliff with your hands behind your backs while we wait for Bunty.” The two thieves obeyed, but kept a nervous eye over their shoulders at the creeping sea line nonetheless. “Please hurry, girls…” Bernard repeated anxiously…

AI image generated via Microsoft Bing before its upgrade

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: PART 9 of the Bedlam au, and the plot thickens (for Baron and Muta, at least)

X

Baron's human facade is almost perfect, save that there's something still a touch feline about his eyes. People generally don't notice – or can't quite pin down his exact cause of uncanniness – and so he can navigate the human world at least without incident, if perhaps not with expertise.

"It's the stop after this," Muta whispers beneath his breath, curled up on the train seat beside Baron. Despite the temporary human spell being something Baron was fairly sure he could adapt for a regular cat, Muta had always refused, making it quite clear just how much he didn't trust Baron's dabbling in magic. Given that Baron's first attempt with the spell on himself had actually transformed him into a full cat for a week, Baron can't exactly argue.

If Muta had agreed to try out the human spell, Baron can't help but note, it'd make taking directions from him a lot easier.

The other reason Muta had refused the human spell, Baron suspects (along with the amusement of watching Baron make a fool out of himself by asking directions from a cat, he's sure) is obvious the second time after a fellow traveller pauses to pet him and smuggle a treat or two in the process.

"See if I ever bake again for you," Baron murmurs as a schoolgirl hops off the train, her lunchbox significantly lighter than when she hopped on. "I thought you said you were worried for Haru and Toto."

"I never said worried," Muta corrects critically. "Anyway, a cat can multitask. And this is us." He jumps down from the seat before Baron can argue any further, and Baron has to get moving before he's left behind.

Despite all the time that Haru had been with them, the Bureau have never visited her flat. They know where she lives – and occasionally they may have crashed through her window on more than one urgent case – but the front door is untrodden ground.

"We could just sneak in through the window," Muta offers as they approach the flat block.

"We're not breaking and entering into Haru's flat."

"Well, not looking like that, sure," Muta says. "You'll need to ditch the humanity, otherwise we'll have the cops called on us. Anyway, it ain't breaking and entering if we don't break anything."

"We're doing this the courteous way," Baron says stiffly.

"Oh good, we can just look like cold callers then."

Baron rings the bell for Haru's flat, not deigning Muta with so much as a glance.

"So what's the plan if she's not home on account of the, y'know, whatever drama she's thrown herself into?" Muta asks. "Can we then use the window?"

The intercom buzzes into life, and only years of practice stops Baron from throwing a triumphant smirk.

"Yes, who is it?"

It's not Haru's voice which rises from the intercom, but still that of a woman. Baron recalls the name of Haru's flatmate – Hiromi. "We're friends of Haru's," he replies. "Is she in?"

"She's at work."

"Doesn't sound too perilous," Baron mouths to Muta, who only scowls.

"Excuse me, but who is this?" Hiromi asks again, her voice sharpening with suspicion. "How did you say you know her?"

"We're friends from the charity she volunteered at," Baron says, repeating the lie he knows Haru gave to explain her frequent Bureau absences. "We were hoping to ask her a few questions."

"Can't you just wait until she has another shift?"

Baron pauses. Blinks. "I'm sorry, another shift where?"

"At the charity," Hiromi answers. She speaks slowly, curtly. "The place you claim to also volunteer at?"

"What?"

Hiromi scoffs. "Look, I don't know who you are or why you're pretending to know Haru, but you'd better scram before I call security."

The intercom goes dead, and Baron and Muta exchange glances. Muta makes no attempt to hide the smirk, however short-lived it is. "So what's Chicky doing still pretending she's part of some bogus charity if she ain't with the Bureau anymore?"

"Perhaps she really has taken up volunteering," Baron suggests, but it sounds weak even to him.

"Right... and it overlaps so perfectly with our odd hours that her flatmate hasn't even noticed a difference, I don't think." Muta raises an eyebrow. "Come on, we did it your way, now it's time for mine."

[maryrouille]

Bluestockings. The school girl phenomenon

Moi je m'appelle Lo-lita, Collégienne aux bas, Bleus de méthylène

This fragment of the lyrics comes from the song by Alizée Moi… Lolita released in 2000 and probably many people from Europe, where it topped the charts, hummed it in its glory days. Apart from the references to Nabokov's novel, the remaining two lines can be translated as Schoolgirl in stockings, Methylene blue. So what is the deal with these blue socks and what does it have to do with young seductresses?

Queen of the Blues

Contrary to appearances, the blue stockings do not concern only the students themselves, but also their guest. We need to go back to the 1750s when the Blue Stocking Society was founded. It was a loose organization of privileged women interested in education who gathered to discuss literature, inviting educated men to participate. European fashion of the mid-18th century, in which black stockings were worn with formal wear and blue stockings were worn during the day or more casually, emphasizing the informal nature of club meetings. The most common such reference is to a man, Benjamin Stillingfleet, who reportedly did not wear formal black stockings and yet belonged to the Blue Stockings Society [1].

Thanks to the strong personality of another famous salon owner and writer, Elizabeth Montagu, the so-called Queen of the Blues, the term bluestocking soon came to refer to all literary women. Until the 20th century, there was much criticism of girls acquiring knowledge because, according to the prevailing stereotype, it eliminated them from being a good wife and mother. The opposite of bluestocking and other popular-culture image was the sweet girl graduate who used her education to find and impress her future husband [L. Peril, College Girls. Bluestockings, Sex Kittens, and Coeds, Then and Now, 2006 , pp. 28-31].

Collégienne look

Compared to the 18th century, today skirts have become much shorter, revealing the knees and with them the socks (but not particularly blue) . In the 20th century, along with clothing, the perception of female sexuality also changed. Back then, there was a double view of the image of a school girl: Bluestockings in class, and silk hose and silver slippers in the evening [E. Eldridge, Co-ediquette: Poise and Popularity for Every Girl, 1936, p. 136]. Although some believed that a student's appearance must correspond to her age: Moreover, the boy who invited Sally to the house party likes her as he remembered her at home and does not want a blase woman who looks thirty-five in her place [E. Post, Etiquette, 1942, p. 339].

Long-lasting erotic symbol

Over time in the 1950s, men's magazines discovered the cute and innocent college girl. And they began to show her as first in a school uniform, and later as a half-naked object of gazes. It wasn't until the late 1960s that they featured full nudity or even frontal views, and scantily clad female students seemed to be one of the delights of school life.

However, the 1950s are not the starting point for combining eroticism with young, studying girls. Almost from the very beginning, the student was surrounded by a rapidly commercialized aura of eroticism: At the turn of the twentieth century, the college girl was as much an object of public interest as Civil War battlefields or the natural wonders of Yosemite [L. Peril, College Girls..., p. 311].

Now I'm left to ask my favorite question when analyzing any cultural phenomenon, why does it work?

The school uniform, with blue or white stockings, is both a fetish and a symbol of childhood. A female student or even a college girl exudes innocence, but also youth. And as we know, youth itself (even more so when wearing a short skirt) can be an erotic incentive. And maybe that is why the sympathy for such an image is related to the pursuit of maintaining eternal youth, which is the best seller in the consumer world?

[doggybeeb]

Living With Karen - Blog #1: Jaifei Scammed Me

The Backstory

Tick tock.

Oh, you, incessant little gear. Quiet down! Her hand whipped the ceramic red ladybug alarm clock onto the floor, resulting in a large CRASH! She thought she was in the midst of a much-needed moment of silence until she heard her child Bræydon, wail and scream just as he did whenever she would order him her favorite "Heath Mint Pistachio" ice cream. Karen knew that peppermint oil was going to add shine and definition to her son's growing teeth. She thought he needed to indulge in it so that no one in his class could even attempt to consider that he could be associated with Heather Smith; a pink elastic rubber band and braces-wearing redhead who always stood out to Karen whenever she would drop her son off at school. Karen did not like Heather for a few reasons: 1) Heather's hairstyle was not on par with the Christian Bible, especially with the violet-dyed strands in her hair. 2) Heather loved to chew gum and talk back to the teacher. There was no way that Karen would ever let Bræydon be friends with such an unsophisticated excuse of a schoolgirl.

The sound of her child's wail growing ever so loudly brought her back from her thoughts. Her eyes shot straight to dented alarm clock as its hands read her the time: 4:05 PM. She opened her phone and realized she had spent all morning on TikTok. Speaking of TikTok, she then remembered that she was expecting a delivery of exciting gadgets that would make her life easier to manage. She first encountered these gadgets, merely a week ago, after she viewed a TikTok of a woman attempting multiple times to grab her boyfriend's umbrella so that she could be shielded by the wisp bullets of rain. The woman decides that she has had enough of her boyfriend's antics so she pushes him into the grass and pulls out a purple umbrella hat. Karen had never seen anything like that before in her life. Being mesmerized by the woman's umbrella hat, Karen started to have vivid dreams about meeting the inventor of such a stylish and tactile product. That's when she noticed and clicked on one of the only tagged hashtags in the video's caption: #jiafeiproducts.

After viewing a few dozen videos, Karen found an eCommerce website link to Wish.com, which had these inventive gadgets for sale. She saw that all these gadgets were posted under the same username, @JaifeiProducts. By clicking on the username, Karen then saw the profile and inventor of the gadgets that she was enamored with, that being Jiafei, Owner of JiafeiProducts LLC. Right then and there, Karen knew that this was the perfect opportunity to start her new niche mom blog, Living with Karen, in which she talks about her perilous adventures in parenting a 7-year-old boy in an ever-growing society. Karen felt good about the impact that this could have on her blog. Maybe this will be my big shot? Maybe I'll become famous?! Her blushed cheeks widened with glee at the mere thought of reaching mega-stardom.

Ding dong!

That must be my delivery! Here is my chance at fame! Karen shook her head to regain focus on this very pivotal moment in her life. With a fluttering sigh and optimistic grimace, Karen reached for her cheetah print spectacles, which sat neatly on her mahogany desk workstation, and fixed them onto her face. She parted her pin-straight fried hair to her left, emphasizing her iconic and signature look, Karen's swoop. She was ready to seize the day and possibly change her life for the better. Never mind the shrieks and wallows of her incessant silver statue, this was it! This was her chance, right here and right now, finally at last!

She ran towards the front door, swung it open, grabbed the white USPS parcel package, and struck the door shut. Tearing the package apart, she lifted and unveiled the contents within the box: a 350ml clear glass bottle filled to the brim with an invigorating and clarifying essential oil blend of lavender, sage, and peppermint oil; a yellow-colored rubber gripper with a round suction tip that attaches to the handle of a door; a gag-like facial accessory that claims to cancel noise; a cheetah-print umbrella hat; a small grinder for making carrot purée; and lastly, a personalized rubber chew toy with her son's name engraved on it.

She called her son's name to her room to show him what she had bought for him. Bræydon's face looked rugged and pudgy as his eyelids and cheeks stood red and inflamed. He had a puzzled look on his face as if he was trying to decipher and recognize the things his mother had just bought him. "Mama, what is this?" his voice soft and sprightly as the scattered ray of the sun glistened over onto his skin. "Oh sweetie, these are my gifts for you! You see this?" she said in a song-sweet chatter whilst pointing to the essential oil bottle, "This is for you and me! You put this oil on your skin and then you smell it, and your problems go poof!".

About a year ago, Bræydon was having some behavioral issues at school; he had trouble focusing, could never stop moving or fidgeting, was falling behind compared to the other children in his class, was very picky about the clothes he wore, had frequent meltdowns, and was very sensitive to changes in his environment. Karen insisted that he needed more discipline and taught better manners, but the school suggested sending him to see a psychiatrist, or what Karen liked to call, a person that wastes their time and money on an idiotic bullshit degree. To prove that there could be nothing wrong with her son, she complied with the school's suggestion and had Bræydon visit a child psychiatrist. To Karen's dismay, the doctors officially diagnosed Bræydon with autism and ADHD, suggesting that they put him on stimulant medication or those placebo sugar pills. Karen knew that ADHD was overdiagnosed in young children and that autism was most likely a side effect from federal-funded vaccinations or just letting the spirit of the devil into the deep caverns of your mind. Karen knew the doctors wanted her money but she believed wholeheartedly that Bræydon was just fine and normal. Besides, her son's behavioral issues could be easily solved with the smell of essential oils, for instance, the relaxing warm smell of lavender can dull the fussiest of babies to flutter its eye shut without a lullaby necessary. The spiritual properties of sage would help sanctify her son's brain and body by ridding him of any problematic behavior or illness while also deterring the devil from tricking him into a life of deviance. The sharp and cooling aroma of peppermint would cure Bræydon's hyperactivity and frequent public outbursts which Karen found ridiculous and embarrassing, as she felt that her kid was telling everybody how bad of a mother she was. Karen was nowhere near a bad mother, after all, she's the one who gives her son food on the table, a roof over his head, and not to mention all that money she has spent on his private school education, which could easily go to her spray tans or pedicures. She reminded herself of how extremely thoughtful she was and thought about how lucky her son must be to have such a kind and generous mother. She already made it up in her mind that she was not the problem whatsoever; it was more so that Bræydon was an ungrateful, spoiled, and mischievous brat! Karen hoped that the essential oils and the new noise-canceling gag could foster some silence in her household as her son loved to cry about nothing good, especially now that he was in 1st grade.

Another thing that annoyed Karen was that Bræydon had a habit of walking around the house with his eyes glued to his iPad. As much as Karen knew that taking the iPad would solve this issue instantly, she also knew that taking her son's iPad would cause him to freak out and have a temper tantrum. The last time she took his iPad away, Karen and Bræydon were eating pancakes and applesauce. The next thing she knew, her frilly pretty-penny white dress was covered in syrup and goopy sauce. She tried to wash it in the dryer but to no avail, the stains had already set in and her favorite dress was ruined. To counteract any possible outbursts, Karen decided to give Jiafei's products a try. She installed the bright yellow door stopper on the handle of her front door as Bræydon loved to pace around that area. She hoped that this product would prevent Bræydon from receiving any head injuries. She could not fathom the thought of her child becoming mentally deformed.

She knew her son extremely well and was more than willing to cater to his needs, for instance, his favorite food was carrots, especially in a soft purée. Karen used to happily enjoy the long process of making carrot purée for her son: cutting up long carrot roots, steaming them, waiting for the carrots to cool off, putting them in a zip lock bag, and mushing them with a rolling pin. However, as the summer turned into fall, Karen became extremely busy with work and scrolling on TikTok that this long process became a burden by the second week of school. Although when she is in a good mood, Karen will happily make carrot purée for her son on the weekends but mostly every weekday, Bræydon would cry, throwing a temper tantrum about not liking the texture of his carrots. In the desire for continuous moments of silence, Karen would resort to raising her voice at him and ordering him to go into his room to fix his childish and impolite behavior. As time goes on, she finds herself replenishing a cheap bottle of sweet tobacco and oak-flavored Merlot every one or two nights a week. She always woke up before the crack of crescent dawn grouchy, bones aching, breath faint and shallow but she didn't seem to mind as she could get all the sleep she needed when her time came to an end.

Another issue that her son had was the tendency to bite his nails. Karen would feel her stomach churn and thoughts race when she saw the mere glimpse of her son's fingernails. His fingernails usually were brittle and dull, pointy and jagged, and misshaped and unkempt. Karen did not why her son could be so careless about his appearance. Bræydon did not know either. He could not fully understand the reason why he bit his nails excessively, particularly due to his juvenility. He knew for certain that he could not help himself and that nail-biting made him feel less worrisome about the world. He was very happy to see that his mother bought him a toy that he could nibble on freely. He found it cool that it had his name on it, even though the "æ" was separated. Although he did not mind this flaw, he knew he had bigger things to worry about, like making friends with the other school children. Bræydon instinctively bit his nails in front of his mother, even though he was holding his brand-new chew toy in his other hand. He dropped everything on the floor to poke his fingers in his ears after hearing a sharp and harrowing howl from his mother. He could tell he had made a terrible mistake as he saw the horrid look on her face. As a result, she made him walk a typical 10-minute car ride to school alone. By the time he made it to the school, he was late to class by an hour and a half and had to endure mean-spirited comments about his sweaty appearance from his peers. He was going to forget all that happened that day when he would get home as he had planned to pretend to be the faintest of shadows at the start of unbearable gleaming July afternoon, under the covers of his grey comforter. This was until his best friend Heather said that he had smelled like dookie, and not to get close to her that day because he had a bad case of cooties.

At the end of the school day with a head hung low, Bræydon opened the right backseat door to his mother's brand-new crimson 2022 Nissan Altima. He was convinced that he had lost his only friend because he was calming himself down by taking a nibble on his fingernails. "Oh my god! What is that smell?!" Karen shrieked. Bræydon covered his eyes with his hands as he felt all the emotions throughout the day resurface into a wail.

"Why are you crying?! I didn't even say anything!" Karen exclaimed. He felt as if he was going to tell her everything right then and there, but he could not get his mouth to move.

"Do not ignore me! If you do not tell me why you're crying, you'll go to bed without eating!". The sharpness in her tone startled Bræydon. He didn't eat lunch that day, so he knew it was in his best interest to tell his mom the truth.

--------

The Blog

Hi, I'm Karen, and welcome to my first entry on my new mom blog, Living with Karen! I am so thankful to have this platform in which I can share my stories and give advice on parenting. I am a mom to a rambunctious 7-year-old boy named Bræydon. I am currently struggling with my son's recent behavior as he thinks he can talk back to me. He never stops fidgeting, never stops talking, and is highly overdramatic. I just do not understand why he cannot settle down and take some breaths like how mommy does. I am a very hard-working woman and I honestly do not get paid enough for my position at my job, yet you don't hear me complaining, know do you? If I'm being candid, my workplace would not be as successful if it wasn't for me.

Anyways, last year, the doctors told me that my precious son, Bræydon, has ADHD and autism. Frankly, I give psychiatrists very little piece of mind. They think that just because they spent time and money pursuing a stupid career, they can say they know my child and throw whatever label they want onto him. I think they just want my money. My son is perfectly normal and the reason why he is acting up is because of school, especially this girl named Heather. Don't even get me started on Heather, I would be so embarrassed to walk into school with buck teeth, ginger hair, and braces with pink rubber bands, talk about flashy much, especially for a 7-year-old girl. She's going to grow up to be a sluttish whore, just throwing all of herself at any man she can find. How disgusting! Her parents ought to be ashamed of themselves, for letting that concubine walk around and try to seduce my precious son, Bræydon. How dare they!

Anyways, I am getting sidetracked, teehee! I was scrolling onto a TikTok rabbit hole about two weeks ago when I saw this amazing video of an umbrella hat. Yes, you heard right! I honestly was astonished and led to the brink of tears due to this wonderful invention. It boggles my mind how stylish and tactile it is at the same time, how crazy, who would have thought? I noticed there was only one hashtag on the video (#jaifeiproducts). Could this be where this wonderful umbrella hat came from? I thought to myself. I clicked on the hashtag and saw numerous videos about a variety of products. Eventually, through enough digging, I found a link to the official Jaifei Products website. I was so happy that I could give my precious son, Bræydon, these wonderful products! I bought a plentiful number of gizmos and gadgets. An essential oil blend of peppermint, sage, and lavender to cure my son's behavioral issues. A door stopper so my precious son, Bræydon, can wander around the house with his iPad without his head getting bashed into. A noise-canceling gag for my son so that I can sniff my essential oils in peace and quiet. God knows us mothers need some silence here and then. A cheetah print umbrella hat because my son takes up the entire umbrella, which reminds me, I need to put him on a diet. A grinder for making carrot purée, my son's favorite. I swear he is so unbearable if I don't spend an hour or two cutting, steaming, and mashing carrots into a purée. Maybe I won't need to chop the whole carrot into little pieces anymore? Finally, I got my son a personalized rubber chew toy with his name engraved on it because I am such a great and thoughtful mother. Maybe this time he won't bite his nails, it's such a disgusting look and habit!

Not to stir any fire into the pot, but what I am about to say next is taking me a lot of courage and bravery. My blood is boiling as I inform you that Jiafei Products is a total scam! First, my son's behavioral issues did not improve; in fact, he has been more antsy and talkative than ever. He cried at school which is so embarrassing! Jiafei probably did not use organic non-GMO oil because she wants to cut down on costs. It is totally understandable why a small business would do something like this, but when it affects my child, it is inhumane. Secondly, the door stopper did work as intended. My son has not had his head bashed into, thank the Lord! However, I have come home with a wide-open door, infested with flies and mosquitoes. Jiafei should have warned me that these things are a safety risk for front doors! This is proof of her lying when she says that all her products are made for universal use. DO NOT USE THESE ON YOUR FRONT DOORS! Thirdly, the noise-canceling gag was a total sham. Yes, I could not hear my son as well, but the fact is, that I could still hear him talk. Why can I still hear my son if this product is labeled as noise-canceling? It's yet another lie by Jiafei. The carrot grinder was way too small. You still have to cut the entire carrot into tiny pieces. What's the point in having a carrot grinder if it doesn't grind carrots for you? Hard pass for me. Fourth, the cheetah print umbrella hat did not flatter my skin tone whatsoever, and don't even get me started on how flat my hair got! It was tragic.

Finally, Jiafei misspelled my precious son, Bræydon's name. I had his name engraved into the chew toy so that the kids at his school wouldn't get confused and (god forbid) steal my precious son, Bræydon's, product. Turns out, he "accidentally lost" the chew toy I got him! He admitted that he showed it to his whore of a friend Heather, and I bet you every bone in my body that she stole it from my precious son, Bræydon! When I tell you I was appalled, I was appalled! It's all Jaifei's fault because stupid Heather couldn't read Bræydon's name. I am going to write a scathing Yelp review and issue a complaint to the Better Business Bureau. Jiafei is a liar and harms children in this fragile cultural climate. I hope that I live to see the day that Jiafei Products gets a cease-and-desist letter! Anyways, thank you so much for reading, I hope Jaifei can hold herself accountable, delete herself from the Internet, and give me my full refund. Please reblog!

---

The Emails

"You got Mail!"

The robotic voice echoed throughout the desk workstation. She glanced her eyes onto her HP laptop and noticed a red flashing icon on her screen. It appears that Karen has received an email. Karen scurried the pointer mouse onto Microsoft Outlook and opened the email. She felt her pulse lie flat like a venomous cobra, lying in wait for its prey. The sender was Jiafei Products and it read:

---

"Dear Karen,

I am extremely disheartened to hear that you were unsatisfied with my products. The reason why your son's name was misspelled on the personalized chew toy was that I could not figure out to program my engraver to ink 'æ', therefore I had to substitute it with 'ae'. I know this may not be much, but I feel inclined to make this settlement right. I will be giving you 50% off on your next order and free shipping. As a small team, Jaifei Products works long and odd-hour shifts to ensure that our customers are happy and satisfied with their products.

Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you to make this situation right.

My sincerest apologies,

Jaifei

CEO and Founder of Jaifei Products LLC".

----

Karen was outright flabbergasted that Jaifei did not think about giving her a full refund. She took a whiff of her essential oils before responding, feeling the anguish seep over her like a boiling kettle. She composed an email ripping Jaifei a new one whilst demanding she receives full compensation back in a timely manner. After she huffed and puffed for 5 minutes, she got another email from Jiafei.

----

"Dear Karen,

I am afraid that we are unable to process a full refund of $19.67 currently, as we must allocate our funds efficiently. Again, I am extremely disheartened and distraught that you were deeply unsatisfied with my products.  I hope this does not cast too much of an inconvenience on your end. Thank you so much for your time and patience, valued customer.

Please have a nice day,

Jaifei

CEO and Founder of Jiafei Products LLC".

---- "You got Mail!" 

The robotic voice echoed throughout the desk workstation. She glanced her eyes onto her HP laptop and noticed a red flashing icon on her screen. It appears that Karen has received an email. Karen scurried the pointer mouse onto Microsoft Outlook and opened the email. She felt her pulse lie flat like a venomous cobra, lying in wait for its prey. The sender was Jiafei Products and it read:

--- "Dear Karen,

I am extremely disheartened to hear that you were unsatisfied with my products. The reason why your son's name was misspelled on the personalized chew toy was that I could not figure out to program my engraver to ink 'æ', therefore I had to substitute it with 'ae'. I know this may not be much, but I feel inclined to make this settlement right. I will be giving you 50% off on your next order and free shipping. As a small team, Jaifei Products works long and odd-hour shifts to ensure that our customers are happy and satisfied with their products. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you to make this situation right.

My sincerest apologies,

Jaifei

CEO and Founder of Jaifei Products LLC".

----

Karen was outright flabbergasted that Jaifei did not think about giving her a full refund. She took a whiff of her essential oils before responding, feeling the anguish seep over her like a boiling kettle. She composed an email ripping Jaifei a new one whilst demanding she receives full compensation back in a timely manner. After she huffed and puffed for 5 minutes, she got another email from Jiafei.

----

"Dear Karen,

I am afraid that we are unable to process a full refund of $19.67 currently, as we must allocate our funds efficiently. Again, I am extremely disheartened and distraught that you were deeply unsatisfied with my products.  I hope this does not cast too much of an inconvenience on your end. Thank you so much for your time and patience, valued customer.

Please have a nice day,

Jaifei

CEO and Founder of Jiafei Products LLC".

----

THE EPILOGUE

Tick tock.

She could feel the tears swell up and trickle down beneath her eyes. She knew she had been defeated. She knew that she was never going to see that money back. She knew that she had wasted her time. She tried to make sense of this calamity, but it was in fact a part of her. She had known this sunken feeling all too well. That part of her she most dreaded. That part of her she hated with passion like the devil. Her vices were getting to her.

How was she supposed to love, when she couldn't love herself entirely?

Right then and there, she downed another glass of her favorite Merlot, before collapsing her head into her forearms, which had been secured by her desk workstation. She, now wistful, was pulled out of her thoughts for one last time to the incessant sound of her broken-down ladybug clock. Without a thought in her pretty little mind, Karen whipped the clock in full force with her hands. She broke down into a pathetic sob as the clock had hit the floor, torn into two, and her son wallowed and wailed on cue.

[rockislandadultreads]

New York Times Best Books of 2022: Fiction

The Candy House by Jennifer Egan

It’s 2010. Staggeringly successful and brilliant tech entrepreneur Bix Bouton is desperate for a new idea. He’s forty, with four kids, and restless when he stumbles into a conversation with mostly Columbia professors, one of whom is experimenting with downloading or “externalizing” memory. Within a decade, Bix’s new technology, Own Your Unconscious - that allows you access to every memory you’ve ever had, and to share every memory in exchange for access to the memories of others - has seduced multitudes. But not everyone.

In spellbinding linked narratives, Egan spins out the consequences of Own Your Unconscious through the lives of multiple characters whose paths intersect over several decades. Egan introduces these characters in an astonishing array of styles - from omniscient to first person plural to a duet of voices, an epistolary chapter, and a chapter of tweets. In the world of Egan’s spectacular imagination, there are “counters” who track and exploit desires and there are “eluders,” those who understand the price of taking a bite of the Candy House.

Checkout 19 by Claire-Louise Bennett

In a working-class town in a county west of London, a schoolgirl scribbles stories in the back pages of her exercise book, intoxicated by the first sparks of her imagination. As she grows, everything and everyone she encounters become fuel for a burning talent. The large Russian man in the ancient maroon car who careens around the grocery store where she works as a checkout clerk, and slips her a copy of Beyond Good and Evil. The growing heaps of other books in which she loses-and finds-herself. Even the derailing of a friendship, in a devastating violation. The thrill of learning to conjure characters and scenarios in her head is matched by the exhilaration of forging her own way in the world, the two kinds of ingenuity kindling to a brilliant conflagration.

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

Set in the mountains of southern Appalachia, this is the story of a boy born to a teenaged single mother in a single-wide trailer, with no assets beyond his dead father's good looks and copper-colored hair, a caustic wit, and a fierce talent for survival. In a plot that never pauses for breath, relayed in his own unsparing voice, he braves the modern perils of foster care, child labor, derelict schools, athletic success, addiction, disastrous loves, and crushing losses. Through all of it, he reckons with his own invisibility in a popular culture where even the superheroes have abandoned rural people in favor of cities.

Many generations ago, Charles Dickens wrote David Copperfield from his experience as a survivor of institutional poverty and its damages to children in his society. Those problems have yet to be solved in ours. Dickens is not a prerequisite for readers of this novel, but he provided its inspiration.

The Furrows by Namwali Serpell 

Cassandra Williams is twelve; her little brother, Wayne, is seven. One day, when they're alone together, there is an accident and Wayne is lost forever. His body is never recovered. The missing boy cleaves the family with doubt. Their father leaves, starts another family elsewhere. But their mother can't give up hope and launches an organization dedicated to missing children.

As C grows older, she sees her brother everywhere: in bistros, airplane aisles, subway cars. Here is her brother's face, the light in his eyes, the way he seems to recognize her, too. But it can't be, of course. Or can it? Then one day, in another accident, C meets a man both mysterious and familiar, a man who is also searching for someone and for his own place in the world. His name is Wayne.

Trust by Hernan Diaz

Even through the roar and effervescence of the 1920s, everyone in New York has heard of Benjamin and Helen Rask. He is a legendary Wall Street tycoon; she is the brilliant daughter of eccentric aristocrats. Together, they have risen to the very top of a world of seemingly endless wealth. But the secrets around their affluence and grandeur incites gossip. Rumors about Benjamin's financial maneuvers and Helen's reclusiveness start to spread - all as a decade of excess and speculation draws to an end. At what cost have they acquired their immense fortune?

[pagebypagereviews]

The Best of Brevity: Celebrating Two Decades of Flash Nonfiction Mastery For readers in search of impactful, concise storytelling, "The Best of Brevity: Twenty Groundbreaking Years of Flash Nonfiction" is an unmissable collection that celebrates the art of brevity with unmatched elegance and power. This anthology, a magnificent homage to 20 years of the acclaimed literary journal *Brevity*, is a treasure trove of meticulously selected essays, each masterfully penned to punch above its weight within the strict confines of limited word counts. Flash nonfiction, with its compelling need to deliver profound truths in brief, is an art form that has captivated imaginations and expanded the possibilities of storytelling. "Three Ordinary Girls: The Remarkable Story of Three Dutch Teenagers Who Became Spies, Saboteurs, Nazi Assassins--and WWII Heroes" plunges us into the gripping saga of teenage courage and audacity amid the harrowing backdrop of World War II. Taking us through the perilous journey of these young heroines, the narrative highlights their transformation from ordinary schoolgirls to formidable agents of the Dutch resistance, who carried out espionage, sabotage, and targeted assassinations against the occupying Nazi forces. Their tale is not only an evocative account of the lesser-known facets of WWII history but also serves as an inspiring testament to the indomitable spirit of female resistance fighters. In a world increasingly dominated by narratives of male heroism, this historical non-fiction fills a crucial gap, shedding light on the monumental contributions and sacrifices of women who dared to defy the formidable Nazi regime. The Best of Brevity: Twenty Groundbreaking Years of Flash Nonfiction The Best of Brevity: Twenty Groundbreaking Years of Flash Nonfiction Plot The Best of Brevity: Twenty Groundbreaking Years of Flash Nonfiction doesn’t encompass a singular plot. Instead, it is an anthology of short, succinct essays that traverse a wide range of subjects and experiences. Each piece brings its own mini-universe, offering a concentrated exploration of the human condition, often through deeply personal narratives. The lack of a conventional plot structure is part of its charm, allowing readers to dive into a variety of intimate snapshots that collectively represent a panoramic view of life. Characters Given that The Best of Brevity is an anthology of flash nonfiction, the "characters" are often real people – the authors themselves or individuals within their stories. These characters range from family members and friends to strangers and fleeting acquaintances. Each essay introduces new characters, whose lives and experiences the reader glimpses for a brief but impactful moment. The authenticity of these character portrayals lends a profound sense of connection and immediacy to the reader. Writing Style The writing style in The Best of Brevity is marked by its conciseness and precision. Flash nonfiction demands a brevity that distills stories down to their most compelling essence. The authors use vivid imagery, strong emotion, and poignant language to leave a lasting impact in a short span of words. This often involves a unique blend of lyrical prose and raw, unfiltered reflections, making for a mesmerizing reading experience. Setting The settings in The Best of Brevity are as varied as the stories themselves, ranging from specific geographical locations to more abstract or internal landscapes. Some pieces may place you in a bustling city, a serene countryside, or a poignant moment in a hospital. Others delve into the psychological settings of grief, joy, fear, or reflection. The brevity of each essay necessitates a setting that is quickly established yet deeply evocative. Unique Aspects The uniqueness of The Best of Brevity lies in its format – the flash nonfiction genre which requires immense skill to deliver meaningful stories within a restricted word count. Each essay serves as a masterclass in tight, evocative writing, often packing the emotional punch of a full-length memoir into a few paragraphs.

The anthology's diversity of voices and experiences further enhances its uniqueness, offering readers a multitude of perspectives and insights. Three Ordinary Girls: The Remarkable Story of Three Dutch Teenagers Who Became Spies, Saboteurs, Nazi Assassins--and WWII Heroes Three Ordinary Girls: The Remarkable Story of Three Dutch Teenagers Who Became Spies, Saboteurs, Nazi Assassins--and WWII Heroes Historical Nonfiction Three Ordinary Girls is a profound work of historical nonfiction that delves into the real-life stories of three young Dutch women who took extraordinary actions during World War II. Historical nonfiction requires a meticulous approach to accuracy and detail, which the author embraces while recounting the courageous exploits of these teenage heroines. Through extensive research, the book offers readers a vivid portrayal of the era, piecing together archival materials, eyewitness accounts, and personal testimonies to create a narrative that is both educational and deeply moving. WWII History The book provides a multifaceted exploration of WWII history from the unique perspective of the Dutch resistance. While many World War II histories focus on the widespread battles and political maneuvers, this work shifts the focus to the underground efforts within Nazi-occupied Europe. It captures the harsh realities of life under occupation and the courageous actions taken by ordinary citizens. The broader historical context of the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands serves as the backdrop for the personal stories of bravery and resistance illuminated within the book. Female Spies Female spies in World War II often remain unsung heroes, and Three Ordinary Girls brings to light the daring exploits of these young women who operated in the shadows. Their roles included gathering intelligence, relaying messages, and even participating in sabotage and assassination missions. The book highlights how their gender allowed them to move with relative freedom compared to their male counterparts, exploiting societal underestimations to their advantage. Their contributions were pivotal in the resistance efforts, demonstrating the critical role women played in undermining Nazi operations. Dutch Resistance The Dutch resistance was a network of underground activities aimed at opposing Nazi occupation, and Three Ordinary Girls offers a detailed glimpse into this clandestine world. The book illustrates how the resistance operated, from covert printing presses producing anti-Nazi literature to armed sabotage efforts. The three teenage protagonists of the book were integral to these operations, showing remarkable bravery and resourcefulness. Their stories personalize the broader resistance effort, illustrating the myriad ways ordinary citizens contributed to the fight against tyranny. Inspiring Story The core of Three Ordinary Girls is its inspiring depiction of courage and resilience. The narrative follows the transformation of three ordinary teenagers into formidable resistance fighters. Despite facing immense danger and hardship, their commitment to justice and freedom never wavered. The book celebrates their courage and the moral choices they made, offering readers an inspiring example of how ordinary individuals can take extraordinary steps to combat evil and protect the oppressed. The resilience and determination of these young women serve as a powerful reminder of the impact and importance of standing up for one's beliefs, even in the face of overwhelming odds. Pros and Cons of "Three Ordinary Girls: The Remarkable Story of Three Dutch Teenagers Who Became Spies, Saboteurs, Nazi Assassins--and WWII Heroes" Pros Historical Nonfiction "Three Ordinary Girls" successfully immerses readers into the turbulent World War II era, providing an in-depth, factual recounting of events. The book’s adherence to historical accuracy allows readers to gain a deep understanding of the complexity and severity of the Dutch resistance movement. This meticulous

attention to historical detail enhances credibility and reliability, attracting readers who seek an educational experience while gaining insights into this significant period of history. WWII History The book sheds light on a lesser-known aspect of World War II history—the Dutch resistance. This focus fills in gaps that mainstream WWII narratives often overlook, broadening readers' knowledge and appreciation of the global resistance movement. The detailed accounts of covert operations, espionage, and guerrilla tactics provide valuable context for understanding the comprehensive nature of the war effort. This element significantly enriches the book, making it an essential addition to WWII literature. Female Spies Highlighting the brave contributions of female spies, the narrative challenges traditional gender roles and stereotypes often associated with war stories. By bringing to life the courage and ingenuity of three Dutch teenage girls, the book serves as an inspiring testament to women's vital roles in warfare. This focus not only empowers female readers but also educates all readers about the diverse contributions to the resistance, making the reading experience more relatable and inclusive. Inspiring Story The personal stories of Hannie Schaft, and sisters Truus and Freddie Oversteegen provide a compelling and emotional core that resonates deeply with readers. Their transformation from ordinary teenagers to resistance heroes exemplifies the power of courage, resilience, and moral conviction. These inspiring narratives offer readers emotional engagement and motivation, demonstrating how ordinary individuals can achieve extraordinary feats in the face of adversity. Cons Complex Terminology The book’s use of complex military and espionage terminology may be challenging for readers who lack prior knowledge of WWII history or intelligence work. This sophisticated language could potentially create a barrier to understanding, making the narrative less accessible to a general audience. Readers may find themselves needing to look up terms or reread sections to fully grasp the context, which could disrupt the flow of reading. Graphic Content The detailed recounting of violence, torture, and assassination missions may be disturbing for some readers. While these elements are critical for conveying the harsh realities faced by the resistance fighters, they can also be emotionally overwhelming. Readers sensitive to graphic content might struggle to process these intense scenes, potentially detracting from their overall enjoyment and engagement with the book. Pacing Issues The book’s focus on thorough historical context and granular details can sometimes result in uneven pacing. Certain sections may feel slower or overly detailed compared to the more action-packed moments. This fluctuation in pacing might affect readers' engagement, causing them to lose interest during slower expositions or feel rushed during critical action sequences, hindering a consistently balanced reading experience. Narrative Bias The narrative may exhibit a certain degree of bias, idealizing the actions of the protagonists while potentially oversimplifying or underrepresenting other perspectives within the Dutch resistance movement. This one-sided portrayal could limit readers’ understanding of the complexity and diversity of the resistance. A more balanced representation might provide a fuller picture of the historical context, enhancing readers' appreciation of the multifaceted nature of wartime resistance efforts. FAQ What is "Three Ordinary Girls" about? "Three Ordinary Girls" tells the true story of three Dutch teenagers who became unlikely heroes during World War II. They worked as spies, saboteurs, and assassins for the Dutch resistance, carrying out daring missions against the Nazi regime. Who are the main characters in the book? The main characters are three brave Dutch teenagers: Hannie Schaft, and the sisters Truus and Freddie Oversteegen. They played significant roles in the resistance efforts against the Nazis in the Netherlands.

Is "Three Ordinary Girls" based on real events? Yes, the book is a work of historical nonfiction and is based on real events and the true stories of Hannie Schaft, Truus, and Freddie Oversteegen during WWII. Why were these teenagers motivated to join the resistance? The three girls were driven by a profound sense of justice and a deep hatred for the Nazi occupation of their country. They were passionate about fighting for freedom and protecting their fellow citizens. What types of missions did they undertake? The girls participated in a variety of dangerous missions, including gathering intelligence, distributing anti-Nazi propaganda, sabotaging Nazi operations, and even assassinating German officers and Dutch collaborators. How does the book portray their personal struggles? "Three Ordinary Girls" delves deeply into the personal lives and internal conflicts of the three heroines, exploring their fears, moral dilemmas, and the immense pressure they faced while performing their dangerous tasks. What kind of research did the author do for this book? The author conducted extensive research, including interviews with surviving resistance members, historical documents, wartime records, and other primary sources to ensure the accuracy and richness of the narrative. Is there a message of inspiration in "Three Ordinary Girls"? Absolutely. The story is immensely inspiring, showcasing the extraordinary courage, resilience, and determination of young individuals in the face of overwhelming adversity. It highlights the power of ordinary people to make a significant impact in times of crisis. Is "Three Ordinary Girls" suitable for all readers? While the book is an incredible read, it does contain mature themes related to war, violence, and resistance activities. It may be best suited for older teens and adults who have an interest in WWII history and stories of heroism. Can I find more information about Hannie Schaft, Truus, and Freddie Oversteegen outside the book? Yes, there are additional historical resources, documentaries, and archives available for those who wish to learn more about these remarkable women and their contributions to the Dutch resistance during WWII. In conclusion, "Three Ordinary Girls: The Remarkable Story of Three Dutch Teenagers Who Became Spies, Saboteurs, Nazi Assassins—and WWII Heroes" by Tim Brady is an invaluable book for anyone fascinated by WWII history, resistance movements, and the extraordinary roles played by women in times of war. This historical nonfiction work brings to light the compelling and courageous actions of three young Dutch women—Hannie Schaft, Truus Oversteegen, and Freddie Oversteegen—who transcended their ordinary lives to become some of the most daring agents of the Dutch resistance. Through meticulous research and evocative storytelling, Brady not only sheds light on their clandestine activities, including espionage, sabotage, and targeted assassinations of Nazi officers but also delves deep into the psychological and emotional impacts of their immense bravery and sacrifices. One of the greatest strengths of "Three Ordinary Girls" is its ability to humanize these young heroines, providing readers with a rich tapestry of their backgrounds, motivations, and the personal costs of their resistance work. This book serves as both an inspiring tribute and an essential educational resource, invaluable for understanding the multifaceted nature of resistance efforts during WWII and the critical role of women therein. Their story amplifies the often-overlooked narratives of female spies and highlights the universal themes of courage, resilience, and moral duty, making it relevant even in contemporary discussions about justice and heroism. For those looking to delve deeper into historical nonfiction, Tim Brady’s work offers a balanced mix of rigorous historical accuracy and engrossing narrative. The book not only illuminates the past but also resonates powerfully in the present, encouraging readers

to reflect on the extraordinary capabilities of ordinary individuals when faced with extraordinary circumstances. Moreover, it invites readers to consider how acts of resistance, no matter how small, contribute to the larger fight against oppression and tyranny. Ultimately, "Three Ordinary Girls" stands as a testament to the undying human spirit and its capacity for courage, even in the darkest of times. This book is a must-read for history enthusiasts, educators, and anyone seeking inspiration from the remarkable true stories of young women who defied the odds to make history. Whether you're a seasoned reader of WWII history or new to the genre, this book promises not only to educate but also to inspire and profoundly move you.

[ignitiveifynovelcafe]

I have this series and it would make an EXCEPTIONAL gift! Run over to Amazon and get yours today!

Mara of the League is a political fantasy series by author Thomas M. Kane. If you love spies, maps, witch hunts and danger this series is perfect for you! This series would make a WONDERFUL Christmas gift to a family member or a friend, the printed books are beautiful!

The Complete Mara of the League series box set includes the following:

Book One: The Witches of Crannock Dale

Spies. Witch-hunts. A little girl who asks dangerous questions.

When invaders threaten, eleven-year-old Mara must grow up fast. All her life, her homeland has been on the brink of war with the Commonwealth of Waan. But as bells warn of approaching enemies, her own realm’s knights arrest her favorite aunt for witchcraft. This prompts her to rethink much of what she has been taught about her country. When adults ignore her points, she teams up with unlikely friends in a bid to rescue her aunt and protect her village. Mara must make sense of grown-up politics to save the people she loves.

This is Book One of the political fantasy series Mara of the League.

Available in print, e-book format and audio.

amazon.com/dp/B07XWXP1X2

BOOK TWO: The Rebels of Caer City

A mysterious teacher.

A creepy prince.

A missing schoolgirl.

Mara risks her life to save a friend.

When seventeen-year-old Mara’s best friend disappears from boarding school, she teams up with her classmates Ginny and Gretchen to find her. The trail leads to the royal palace. Mara finds late-blooming romance with a courtier who promises assistance, but turns to an aging spy for clues no others can provide. Gretchen, Ginny and Mara race against time to stop a plot which endangers their friend and threatens to plunge their country into war.

This is Book Two of the political fantasy series, Mara of the League.

Available in print, e-book format and audio.

amazon.com/dp/B085XTW5CM

BOOK THREE: The Hideous Garden

On the brink of war . . ..

When assassins strike, spymaster Mara suspects the hostile nation of Waan is behind the plot. To investigate, she secretly meets a friend who married into Waan’s royal family. Both suspect they’re

being watched, but Mara knows it’s worth the risk, even if they’re walking into a trap. What Mara learns convinces her Waan is planning an invasion. She determines her people must defend

themselves, even at the risk of starting a war which could trigger a civilization-ending famine. Can she warn her leaders in time? Will they agree to her dangerous scheme?

This is Book Three of the political fantasy series Mara of the League.

Available now in print and as an e-book. Coming soon on audio.

amazon.com/dp/B08M239BXF

BOOK FOUR: The Rending of the World

“Give me the summer, and I will give you the continent.”

War

Treachery

A continent-sweeping onslaught

Spymaster Mara has spent her life trying to head off war between her country and a rival land. Now the rival has gained control of strategic mountain passes and invaded with overwhelming force. As enemy armies sweep forward, Mara finds herself stranded with her country’s honorable ruler in a distant northern land. She must guard the ruler’s life on a perilous sea voyage as he attempts to return home.

Meanwhile in Mara’s country’s capital, fourteen-year-old Princess Deborah finds herself unexpectedly on the throne. The princess faces rebellions and scheming courtiers as she makes military decisions her tutors never prepared her for. Her troops have musketry and advanced fortifications, but the invaders

use ships and cavalry to outmaneuver them. Both sides know a long war could ravage the farmland, leaving winners and losers alike to starve. The fate of the country depends on Mara’s shrewdness and Deborah’s will.

This is the fourth and final book of the political fantasy series Mara of the League. It includes seven maps detailing battle plans and military operations.

Available now in print and as an e-book. Coming soon on audio!

amazon.com/dp/B08LK7SHP5

Get the emotional, cerebral Mara of the League series now!

Available in e-book format.

More stories and articles free with author Thomas M. Kane’s newsletter Metis! Visit www.thomasmkane.com to subscribe.

Follow author Thomas M. Kane on Twitter at @thomasmkane11

[thechemistryset]

Alberto Negrín Enigma rosso 1978

[cinemasentries]

What Have They Done to Your Daughters? Blu-ray Review: I Hope They're Not with Solange

The second part of Massimo Dallamano's "schoolgirl's in peril" trilogy gets an excellent release from Arrow Video.

[milkiane]

MY FOREVER VALENTINE; druig

summary: druig finally understands what it means to love and to be loved, and it’s all thanks to you: his forever valentine.

warnings: excessive use of the word ‘love’, implications of a sexual joke, very very fluffy shit ! lovesick druig is my man // gif credits to @rileybinaa

word count: 2830

druig never understood the concept of valentine’s day, or how humans never fail to make a big fuss about it. there are three hundred and sixty-five days for people to show their love to someone, to express their adorations and commitment, to buy them flowers and chocolates, to write them softhearted love letters and poems.

what was so special about february 14th?

but in all honesty, if someone had to force the truth out of druig, he did. he did understand the concept of valentine’s day, he just didn’t have someone to love. never in his seven thousand years of living on earth has he ever felt those butterflies in his stomach, or the beating of his heart out of his chest, or that dizzying euphoric feeling; and all because of one person.

druig wants to love, he wants to be loved.

he is a lover, with or without one.

we exist for love — love is the reason why we’re here, he thinks.

and druig can see that now, he can see why love is such an immense feeling. he can see why people do things for the sake of love, why people die for love.

love. love. love. it’s all because of love.

love is soft and gentle. love is raw and painful. love is captivating, it’s spellbinding, it’s maddening! and quite frankly, that’s what makes it so beautiful.

and it’s all because of you — you showed him what love would feel like.

you, who is unapologetically and beautifully human.

you, who have managed to bewitch him with nothing but your charm and wits.

you, who made him unapologetically and beautifully human.

after years of observing and noting how people would just live with such tenderness and adoration, he finally found what he has been missing all his life.

he found love and that’s something he took pride in. he found love in you, and slowly, he started to find love in everything. he fell in love with you, and he started to fall in love with the world; with its beauty.

he finally understood what it would be like to be loved — and to be loved by you of all people?

oh, how sweet it is to be loved by you.

he wants to create a word just as beautiful as his love for you, but for now, he’s just going to have to make use.

“will you be my valentine, my love?”

you look up from your book to see druig behind you, his head poking over your shoulder as he hands you a wine-colored rose, a blithesome smirk gracing his lips.

“you’re five minutes late, druig,” you avert, trying to hold back the rhapsodic smile that was teasing your lips. you hold onto the rose, breathing in the aromatic smell as druig sits beside you on the park bench, his arm draped around you.

“well, i had to look good for m’lover now, don’t i?” druig grins, the familiar persistence of his accent evident in his teasing quip. it was true — druig did take his sweet time in seeking the right outfit before eventually settling with his usual leather jacket get-up.

you laugh softly, nudging his shoulder with yours — a habit of his you seemed to have picked up, he noticed — as you attempt to hide the rushing heat on your cheeks.

druig’s smooth-talking never failed to make you feel like a lovesick schoolgirl with a crush.

he is special; druig. you’ve known that the first time you laid eyes on the blue-eyed boy. with his quick-witted humor and charm, accompanied by his lovely looks — it wasn’t a shocker that you fell for him.

and then you found out that he is an eternal; an immortal graced with powers to protect humanity. he is a man of a thousand years and wisdom, having seen the evolution of your world as he battled with deviants, monsters that left the lives of many in peril.

you still couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he chose you out of all the people in the world, mortals and immortals, somehow he chose you to love.

the universe couldn’t have been more in your favor. you continued to thank every star in the sky for giving you your lover. your other half. your twin flame. your soulmate. your druig.

“well, lover,“ you beam a smile. “i got you a flower, too.” it was a sunflower, along with handpicked daisies, adorning in the vast colors of blue felt paper (it matches his eyes, you thought). your smile parallels his as it was now in the hands of your muse. a beautiful flower for a blooming one.

you pull out a daisy from the mini bouquet and tuck it behind his ear. you whisper, “you’re so surreal,”

“i’m as real as i can be, love.” druig smiles, brushing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. he stops to take a breather, resting his forehead against yours.

“i’ve been shot by cupid’s arrow.”

“sap,” you mumbled.

it’s comical how over the top the decorations were this year. every niche and alcove is decorated with hearts, and cupids, and cheesy pick-up lines.

druig has his nose scrunched up at this every other second, he prefers to look at you instead as the amused smile gracing your lips never left.

you find it hilarious. he finds you beautiful.

the weather was perfect, though. the sun was shining, a little bit hidden by the fluffy clouds scattered on the open blue sky. couples were sprinkled all around as well, making the most out of the day.

“everything is just… so red!” you say, the sound you emit was the combination of a scoff and a laugh.

“d’you want me to make ‘em change the colors?” druig suggests, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “possibly purple? pink? blue? — so it matches the color of my eyes?”

“you are such a-“ you stop in your tracks.

druig unintentionally tugs at your hand when you abruptly tumble to a stop. he looks at you, confused, before letting his own eyes follow the subject of your distraction.

“d’you know what i’m thinking?” you ask.

druig grinned.

“i do not dress like that!” druig scowls.

“you’re literally wearing the exact same thing right now!” you point out, a teasing grin on your face.

“but you make it look so… goofy.”

the two of you were holding up the same timeless teddy’s, picking up clothes and accessories for your bears because you were making each other.

“i think it’s cute.” you shrug, grabbing the black boots on the rack.

he mumbles something under his breath as he grabs the clothes that seemed fitting for your bear version. “leather jackets aren’t cute. they’re s’pposed to look cool.”

“whatever you say, druig.” you snort.

he pursed his lips trying to hide the smile that was threatening to spread across his lips. your eyes lit up brighter than the build-a-bear’s beaming lights.

you were happy, and druig was so gratified that he is living the same moment as your happiness — because it was the most beautiful thing that someone can ever witness.

“c’mon, we have to stuff them!”

“i know another thing i could stuff,” he murmurs mischievously.

“druig!” you gape at him in horror, watching as he doubles down with roguish laughter.

you glare at him as he continues to catch his breath. you grabbed your druig bear and stomped towards the stuffing station, leaving him gasping for air as he yelled, “no, c’mon, y/n! t’was a joke.”

druig was holding back the laughter threatening to escape his throat as he wiggled his eyebrows at you, watching as his y/n bear gets filled with stuffings.

“druig!” you hush him, pinching his arm lightly. “you’re being a child!”

he yelped dramatically, pouting his lips as he rubbed the spot. he grinned almost immediately again though, pulling you against his chest to plant kisses all over the side of your face.

“druig,” you whined playfully, scrunching your nose up at the feeling of his soft kisses. you love this man so much.

a soft chuckle snaps you out of your little world, the two of you look for the source of the sound — it was the lady stuffing your bears. “you two remind me of my husband and i, we’ve been together for sixteen years now.”

“awe,” you coo, eyes softening and heart bursting. you feel druig tighten his hold on you, swaying the two of you. he knew how much you love love. you were a sucker for love stories.

the woman sighs happily as she guides you towards the next station. she lets the two of you pick a scent — in which you pick lavender, and druig picks strawberry — and on with the heart ceremony.

she continues, “yeah, it’s rare to find a love as beautiful as yours,”

you and druig grab the small paper hearts and smile at each other, eyes connected as you gave it a kiss.

“— so you two better cherish it forever. love works in mysterious ways,”

you type in the name of your dressed timeless teddy, druig. and druig does the same for his, y/n.

“— and yet it never fails to bring two of the most ideal people together.”

she smiles softly at the two of you. “well, congratulations on your first build-a-bears! thank you for choosing to celebrate this day with us, i don’t doubt this will be a memorable moment for not only the two of you as it was for me. happy valentine’s day, you two!”

“happy valentine’s day!” you greet back, offering her one last smile before leaving with druig. your own mini-me’s held in one hand as you held your lover’s in the other.

“she is so nice.” you simper. “i wonder how…”

your words faded as you continued to speak, all druig could think about is the smile on your face and how he wishes to see it all the time — to be the reason behind it.

the lady’s sweet words continue to swirl in his mind. love does work in mysterious ways, he thought, but you and him will never be a mystery because you two complement each other in every perfect way possible.

druig couldn’t agree more.

it is complete and utter heaven to form something as beautiful as your love for each other.

he couldn’t imagine living life without you. how could he? after getting a drift of how it would feel to be loved by you? it’s all he could ever yearn for. he wouldn’t last a second.

it was as if time flew by faster than makkari’s morning run because before you knew it, the sun was already setting. the brisk sinking sun created a scenic view that cast a soft glow on whatever the rays caressed.

as you and druig mindlessly walk around with no destination in mind, you sigh in content as you look back at today’s rendezvous.

you had brunch at a beautiful family-owned bistro near the park where druig picked you up. apparently, he was friends with the kind old lady who owned the place, earning a generous discount on the house, and a garlic bread or two especially packed for your lover.

you went around after that, which led you to make an exceptional quick stop to build-a-bear. you snapped a lot of pictures after leaving the workshop, much to druig’s chagrin.

and the museum was just calling out for the two of you as soon as your eyes fell upon it. druig had a smile on his face the entire time. you weren’t sure if it was because he personally lived through the history instilled in the art, reminiscing as he explained it to you, or if it was because of the risky snacking on the packet of candies you sneaked in. maybe it was both.

you wish, and always hold onto hope, that time could cease and halt for a moment, just for the sole reason of remaining in this very moment with your lover, simply basking in the moments you yearned to stay in forever with nobody else but druig.

you wanted enough time to count the freckles that were littered across his cheeks, enough time to give in to his “stay with me for five more minutes,” whispers in the morning, enough time to dance the night away with him, enough time to listen to his inner plant dad knowledge, enough time to argue that “yes, it is actually very crucial to own a dog, druig!”, enough time to tell him everything you love about him, to show him how much you love him. you just wanted enough time with him.

you simply wanted enough time to do everything and nothing with him.

“hey, i think i lost you a lil’ bit in there,” he taps your forehead. “what’s wrong, my love?”

“nothing,” you smile reassuringly. “m’just happy you’re here with me.”

“i am, too,” he pulls you in closer, planting a soft kiss on your temple. druig keeps his arm around you at all times, wanting to be as close to you as possible.

“look, dru,” you point out the tarpaulin hanging over the street lamps. “there’s an open evening fair a few blocks down.”

“d’you wanna go?” he asks.

“can we?”

“i don’t know, d’you think they’ll allow a couple as pretty as us to get in?”

you shake your head in amusement, not being able to resist pulling him in for a sweet kiss. “i bet you will bewitch them with your irresistible charm if they don’t anyway, dru.”

the place is filled to the brim with the same loud decorations, love songs were playing in the hidden speakers, and there were couples, friends and families all over the fair. druig nearly complained at the sight until his gaze landed on the divine food stalls.

his mouth watered.

he immediately drags you with him.

‘you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you…’

you let out a small gasp, pulling druig away from the free samples for a dance. you lead him towards the open space and started moving to the beat of the song.

druig halted, a bit hesitant on doing such an intimate thing with you in an open space. you two danced all the time. it wasn’t something new for him, though he was used to doing it behind closed doors; away from peering eyes of the world.

but with just one look in your eyes, he was a goner.

so he pulls you in closer with his arms snaking its way around your waist, swaying along to the melody of the song. he leans his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut as you lose yourselves in the moment.

you smile, feeling his skin against yours, bodies close and moving. you can feel his warmth, you can smell his lavender cologne. your hands roam around his body, memorizing every curve and muscle. you can feel his lips pressed against yours, moving in a soft and tender sync.

soon enough, your beautiful moment attracts an older couple. you smiled softly at them as the older lady gave you a wink. they start to slow-dance as if they’re back in the seventies, getting lost in each other’s eyes as they imagine their surroundings changing to memories of the reminiscents.

druig chuckled, planting a kiss on your nose.

and then came couples after couple, the open space slowly filling up with lovers who also wished to share a moment that was worthy of their own love stories.

the colorful hues that once colored the sky were now painted a dark blue with twinkling stars dispersed beautifully. it reminded you of druig’s freckles.

as the night went on, you managed to explore the entirety of the fair and chose to unwind the languor by laying down on your backs, a new blanket bought from one of the stalls shielding you from the prickly grass.

“i like your face,” you murmur. you were laying on your side as you continued to trace the starry freckles on your lover’s cheeks, your featherlight touches tickling his face every so often.

“i like your face, too,” druig smiles. his own finger coming up to trace the slope of your nose to the curve of your jaw.

every touch, you’re both grateful for. you left no skin untouched as you memorize each other’s artistic features with a stroke as soft as a new paintbrush.

he stops for a moment, letting his thumb caress your cheek before slowly pulling you in for a soft kiss.

“i love you.” you sigh in content, resting your head on his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady, the sound that is responsible for giving you hope and hearth — a beat that defeats every gentle lullaby.

“i love you more, my forever valentine.”

[submission4]

The Film Review: Terror at Eagleton

I must say, I thought the concept of a group of 16 year old schoolgirls in peril but turning the tables on their adult male attacker a good one - a nice antidote to all those screaming female sexist cinematic tropes - but unfortunately Adrian Griffiths (playing bad guy Bill) was one of the worst screen villains I’ve encountered for a long time: he was about as menacing as a Scooby Doo baddie, which kind of diminished the believability of the danger the girls were actually in. The girls, (sassy Kathy, dreamy Eve and timid Jess) have sneakily decided to stay on at their creepy old school, Eagleton College, one Friday night, to discover if it is really haunted, telling their parents they are sleeping over at another friend’s house for the weekend. Naturally our heroines (still in their green and grey school uniforms) are terrified by creeping footsteps and creaking doors until Bill (played by Griffiths) appears. He makes some half hearted threats and generally creeps the girls out but his evilness is pretty unconvincing and they eventually manage to capture him with the aid of the janitor’s shotgun that Eve manages to locate and that Bill doesn’t seem to notice is broken and minus a firing mechanism btw.

Anyway, the girls tie Bill up and then stand around talking for hours while smoking pot and speculating about calling the police tomorrow (er why not now, girls?). Bill is left under guard by Jess (played by Julie Symington, on the right above), by Eve and Kathy who go off outside to argue about whether Kathy should really be having sex with her 18 year old boyfriend while Jess, armed with the useless shotgun, shares her weed with Bill, they talk, she feels sorry for him, concludes he is harmless and unties him. Bill shows a rare burst of energy and suddenly jumps on Jess and overpowers her. Eve (played by Emma Booth on the left above) and Kathy (played by Marie O’Connor, centre above) return to find Jess tied up and gagged and are forced to surrender when Bill emerges from the shadows, armed with the broken (which the girls seem to have forgotten) shotgun, looking evil and muttering about the young ghost hunters having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bill takes a shine to tough girl Kathy and takes her upstairs to one of the dorms, leaving Eve tied up with Jess, who then argue about whose dumb idea it was to stay the night in the school in the first place.

Meanwhile, in the dorm, Bill tries to sort of get it on with Kathy after she goads him (she calls him an “old pervert” which sounded fair enough to me), but she fights back and he rather wimpishly surrenders to her when she threatens to brain him with a table lamp after he discovers that darned gun doesn’t work (I kid you not). Kathy then ties sad Bill’s hands behind his back and takes him back downstairs where she frees her astounded friends. Bill is tied to a chair once more by Eve and Kathy and this time is also very wisely gagged by Jess. The three of them again discuss their predicament and what they are going to do with Bill, before there is yet another outbreak of floorboard creaking and the film takes off in a whole different direction. I won’t spoil it for you by telling you what happens next, but it does get a lot more exciting.

Overall, as a thriller this movie probably doesn’t rate more than 2 out of 5, but the girl power angle probably raises it to a 3.

This “review” of a fictitious film is loosely based on one for Wilderness Survival For Girls (2004). The schoolgirl pic is sourced from Pinterest. It’s just an idle bit of fun.

[grasshopperdoingdogpaddle]

What's your headcanon for how the original 3 dragons laugh??? Like someone tells a joke (dirty or otherwise) how do you see them all reacting?

Dashi is definitely the one you'll catch laughing most often. He loves to giggle, loves to snicker, loves to smile, loves to joke and perform and keep the tension as light as possible.

His laugh isn't obnoxious per se, but it is loud and boisterous and light and airy, a bit nasally but surprisingly charming. A really contagious, charismatic, warm, open laugh. If his bad jokes don't make you crack a smile, just seeing how truly giddy he is might do the trick.

When he laughs, he laughs with his whole body, complete with knee-slapping and tear-wiping. He throws his head back, waves his arms, snorts. Sometimes he even literally rolls on the ground with laughter.

Naturally, laughing comes very easy to him, and he can find anything amusing under the right circumstances. He's laughed in the face of mortal peril many times. He's cracked jokes while his trio was in very dire circumstances. He's burst into laughter from the lamest, cheesiest puns. Even when his pranks fail, he gets a kick out of it.

He laughs when someone else laughs, or when he’s happy, or just in a good mood. It doesn’t take a lot to get him to snicker like an little kid.

(He's also the only one of the three who would react to a dirty joke at all. He giggles like a schoolgirl at them.)

Chase has always had a bit of a dry sense of humor and a cackle that his friends joked sounded a bit devilish, even when he was on the Xiaolin side.

His most common laughter is very smug; it’s surprisingly deep, the type of laughter that makes your hair stand. It's more than a little disturbing, and is very condescending.

It's how he laughs during a fight or right after a victory, high off the adrenaline and reliving every single moment of the action, relishing each hit and jab until the final attack where his opponent lays at his feet. Little smug smirks with an amused snort/sharp exhalation through the nose are common, too.

A rarer laugh is more casual, more relaxed, more human. It's smooth and pleasant and playful, almost boyish. But in a way, there's something about it that still sounds a bit condescending, almost mocking, and there is a slightly dark edge to it, but there's also an undeniable warmth.

Back in the day, it was a pretty common laugh he did with Guan and Dashi and Dojo. In current day, it's exceeding rare. The only person younger than 1000 who's heard this laugh is probably Omi.

He actually laughs much the same way as he does as a villain, just more maniacal. His sense of humor has gotten much darker now. He finds genuine pleasure in watching his enemies' heads roll or watching the world burn or watching his jungle cats rip someone apart.

But he’s much more serious and less inclined to humor in general as a villain anyway.

(Back when he was on the Xiaolin side, dirty jokes would just go over his head entirely. By the present day, he understands them, he just finds them so droll that they're not even worth an eyeroll and barely worth a sneer.)

Guan isn't really the type to laugh very much. (Not when he's sober, at least.)

He can smile, he can chuckle at a good joke and snarky quip, but he doesn’t often burst into laughter.

And his laugh is very rehearsed. As a child, he was a bit embarrassed at his laugh, didn't think it sounded regal and composed enough. So now, when he laughs, he lets out something rehearsed for the situation depending on how he wants to come across.

He can have a very deep belly laugh that sounds surprisingly warm and disarming, for how calculated it is.

He can have a polite, close-mouthed murmur of a laugh, a mature, subdued “hmmhmmhmm.”

He can have rich, deep chuckles with a bit of shoulder-shaking and clapping a hand on a shoulder.

Whatever he feels the situation calls for within the narrow way he wants to be seen.

But sometimes, on rare occasion, there will be something that catches him off guard and really amuses and delights him, and before he cane tamp it down, he'll explode into a sudden burst of uncontrollable, awkward laughter, clutching his stomach and wearing an expression that’s almost confused-looking, like “no stop lungs listen to me” He gets face red in the face and kind of sounds like a dying seal.

He quickly smothers them into controlled chuckles, and he’ll rarely ever explain what got him to laugh in the first place, but there's something really nice about getting to hear it.

(He goes completely stone-faced at dirty jokes. Even if he finds them funny, he refuses to acknowledge them because he would never want to look crass. When he was younger, they made him blush, but now he completely no-sells them.)

[backdroplock]

Canons (or their equivalents) are a necessity of virtually every educational system because, as Harold Bloom writes in his Western Canon, “who reads must choose, since there is literally not enough time to read everything, even if one does nothing but read.”4 Thanks to social media, current estimates indicate that 90 percent of all data has been produced in the past two years,5 so the question of choice has become even more urgent. How and what do we choose to read and attend to in the course of our and our students’ education? And to what end? The different intellectual traditions and civilizations of the world have answered these questions in different ways: the Qing dynasty taught a study of Confucian classics and ritual, making government placements on the basis of a standardized civil service exam; the students at Plato’s Academy studied mathematics, geometry, philosophy, and some natural sciences; the traditional Islamic world had relatively standardized curricula, with students memorizing the Qur’an, and moving on to study Arabic language, logic, mathematics, law, and natural and social sciences. The goal of all these traditions, like that of the early humanist project of the European Renaissance, was to form a “complete human being,” to actualize the human potential through moral and intellectual training—which were not viewed as separate. Many of the most important forms of knowledge in these traditions were considered existential and, as such, were incompatible with certain (unethical) modes of being.

Following the transitions that separated the “secular” and the “religious” in Western Europe, modern education in the West has gone a different route, in which aesthetic and intellectual considerations are separated from ethical ones. Bloom writes, “Whatever the Western Canon is, it is not a program for social salvation…. If we read the Western Canon in order to form our social, political, or personal moral values, I firmly believe we will become monsters of selfishness and exploitation.”6 While I find this quote very telling (it may be a kind of “origin story” for many of our politicians), it reflects a very recent understanding of the Western canon, which, along with the idea of Western civilization itself (from Plato to NATO),7 is a relatively late (eighteenth- to twentieth-century) construction, by which imperial European powers replaced another reactionary, negative self-definition: “Christendom,” as defined against Islamic civilization. For instance, why do the ancient Greeks belong to the West and not also to the Byzantine or Islamic worlds? After all, Greece spent a millennium under Byzantine rule, and half that under Ottoman rule, and the scholars in tenth-century Baghdad translated into Arabic virtually all of Aristotle’s works we have today in English.8 And why don’t the great and greatly influential Muslim thinkers of Andalusia (e.g., Ibn Rushd, Ibn ¢Arabī) belong to the Western tradition? We have drawn some strange constellations in the night sky filled with brilliant works of literature, philosophy, and science.

The lines of these constellations have been drawn on the peculiar basis of the elevation of a particular to a universal: Western civilization was conceived of as the civilization against which all others appeared as failed attempts that must therefore fall under its rule. Western culture was simply “culture,” and those who had other cultures became “uncultured barbarians”; the Western academy and educational systems were and still are simply “the academy” and “education,” and all the world’s other intellectual traditions are mere “religious training” or “informal education.” In short, difference was and is perceived as lack, privation. It is not coincidental that this view of Western civilization coincided with the imperial project in which thousands of young schoolboys, and a few schoolgirls, were trained to believe in the civilizing mission of the recently constituted West and in their duty to liberate the darker peoples of the world from barbarism and ignorance, bringing them into the light of Western civilization—whether they wanted it or not—justifying the most forceful and distasteful of means through this glorious end result. This brutal imperialism is but the other side of the coin of the modern West’s liberalism: if you and your societies are not rational, liberal, and free in the same way that ours are—so the logic goes—then you are backwards and we will take away your freedom through illiberal means in order to “develop” you and remake you in our own liberal image.

Of Cannons and Canons: The Promise and Perils of Postcolonial Education by  Oludamini Ogunnaike

[that-thing-that-feeling]

For anyone who wanted the times of london review (spoilers obvs and avoid if avoiding reviews)

It’s spring break 1986 and the cute kids from the American science fiction show have almost grown up — zits, chest hair and all. But then so have its fans, allowing creators, the Duffer brothers to ramp up the scares in this brilliantly dark fourth series — conceived in 2019 but delayed thanks to Covid.

If the first seasons of Stranger Things nodded to ET the Extra-Terrestrial and Stand by Me, this one (which comes in two “volumes”, with staggered releases) genuflects to A Nightmare on Elm Street. If we were in any doubt, they have even cast Robert Englund, the actor who played Freddy Krueger.

The gang of teenagers has splintered — and there are some new faces. Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) has grown her hair and is the butt of Mean Girls-style bullying in California, where she is living with Joyce (Winona Ryder), Will (Noah Schnapp) and Jonathan (Charlie Heaton). They are joined in the sunshine by new dude Argyle (Eduardo Franco), a pizza delivery driver who provides them with wheels, a Musical Youth soundtrack on his car stereo and this series’ only weakness — his irritating stoner schtick.

Back in Hawkins the rest of the original gang are no longer a unit. Dustin (Gaten Matarazzo), still the court jester, and Mike (Finn Wolfhard, channelling Joey Ramone) have started at high school and are members of the Hellfire Club, a home for nerds, led by newbie Eddie (Joseph Quinn — excellent). Lucas (Caleb McLaughlin, sporting a natty flattop) has fallen in with a bunch of jocks, Nancy (Natalia Dyer) is a student journalist, Robin (Maya Hawke) and Steve (Joe Keery) are working in a video shop. Max (Sadie Sink), traumatised by her brother Billy’s death, is withdrawn and living in a trailer park.

It’s not long before the peril kicks in. Spoiler alert! Former Hawkins cop Hopper (David Harbour), presumed dead, remerges in a vicious Soviet prison, from which Joyce and the Russophile Murray (Brett Gelman) attempt to spring him. Eleven, who still assumes her proxy pop Hopper dead, is doubting her own moral centre — and who she trusts.

Meanwhile, in Hawkins a schoolgirl starts having visions involving a grandfather clock and dies in bizarre circumstances, thanks to a humanoid monster called Vecna. But the town’s finger points to Eddie, this show’s Boo Radley. When Max begins to have dreams (Sink is superb) the kids realise the Upside Down is still imposing on their town, with Vecna making a beeline for the most vulnerable.

This leads our detective duo, Nancy and Robin, to a mental hospital to speak to Victor Creel (Englund), the only man who has ever survived an attack by Vecna. A Kate Bush song becomes an unlikely antidote to evil in a finale to volume one that had me in pieces.

Fans of the early series have nothing to worry about: Stranger Things still balances sweetness, laughs and horror like no other show — even if the scares have got jumpier.

[halfpricedfics]

Supernova

Warning: NSFW, A/B/O, pining idiots, fem reader, mentions of pregnancy

The way the meteor shower sparkled in the pollen that fell around him, the sharp gasp of his inhale when he caught sight of the aurora dancing above you, the stunned silence that echoed in the biting cold, the aching need in your chest that threatened to swallow you whole, it was all so overwhelming. Tears threatened to spill over as you watched him unclip the satchel slung across his chest with practiced ease and drop gracelessly into a snowdrift. He looked over at you with his crooked, roguish grin and patted the snow under the crook of his arm in a gesture of welcome.

The easy camaraderie he held with you was a poison blade between your ribs. Every honey- sweet compliment that dripped from his gorgeous lips, every casual passing of his hand across your shoulders or down your arm, every act of vulnerability so at odds with everything you’d ever known about alpha’s… it was so hard to breathe. You had it bad and he knew, right? It’s not like you’d made any real valiant effort to hide it.

You hesitated a beat too long and it caused a furrow in his brow that you resisted the urge to smooth away with a press of your lips as you acquiesced. His arm gathered you into his side and you visibly winced at the smell of him, not that he appeared to notice. Your suppressors did a miracle job of keeping your heats at bay, making life outside the safety net of civil society far less perilous, but even modern medicine has its limits. The two of you were biologically compatible and being so close to him had your nerve endings singing. Even without the complication of your schoolgirl crush, the proximity was intoxicating. You couldn’t help but pause to admire the way the aurora and flashes of spacerocks burning through the atmosphere backlit his profile in a stunning silhouette. He was a living work of art. The wild cast of his hair, the elegant curve of his nose, proud cheekbones and a gorgeous jawline accented by rosebud lips that begged for a kiss even as they rambled into madness.

He was rambling now, actually, exalting you with trivia about the lunar cycles of this planet and the rarity of such a cosmic event at this point in its cycle. His husky voice held a tension beneath that you couldn’t translate. As much as Ezra talked, he still managed to remain such an enigma at times. Simultaneously so vulnerable and yet so guarded, like a semi- domesticated feral cat. Whatever he said must have been laced with innuendo because he grinned down at you with boyish mischief that made you want to tug on his blonde patch and poke his dimple. Instead you just beamed up at him conspiratorially and tried not to react when he pulled you even closer into his side. Even through your thick coats you could feel his warmth, ever a living furnace. The two of you laid like that for a long time, just listening to him regale you with fanciful half truths, before the two of you agreed that it was best to set up camp before you managed to fall asleep in the snow and catch your death.

You helped Ezra erect his tent first, a feat he still struggled with in the absence of his other arm. Once he seemed set for the night, you set about constructing your own. In theory, the lining of the tent was filled with a bio agent that used exothermic bacteria to insulate the occupants. Unfortunately, you had somehow managed to puncture the lining of your tent. Without that layer of protection, the tent was essentially useless in protecting you from the elements. Your Omega instincts briefly had you considering asking the Alpha for help, but you quickly dismissed the notion. The deafening silence of the snowy terrain carried his pillow- soft snores to you and you were loathe to disturb his well- earned rest. Besides, earning respect in an Alpha- dominated field as an Omega had cost you nearly everything along the way. You weren’t about to let childish notions of romance and poorly suppressed hormones destroy everything you’d worked so hard for. Instead, you decided to layer all of your clothes and suck it up for the night. Despite the cold, you managed to fall asleep and dreamed about kissing the crinkles around Ezra’s eyes that made your heart ache every time he laughed.

It must have been several hours later when Ezra’s voice shattered your dreamscape and doused you in the bitter proverbial cold of waking reality. He was kneeling over you, panic carved into the noble sculpt of his features. You blinked blearily up at him before realizing that your tent was now billowing in tatters, the hole in the lining having grown exponentially in the biting winds, and you no longer felt cold. In fact, you were uncomfortably hot. You mumbled something to that effect and watched the panic light his face again. You couldn’t quite piece your thoughts together over why he was so upset, but you were overcome with the need to soothe his worry.

In a series of movements that you would not have expected from someone still adjusting to life minus a limb, he hauled you up and nearly dragged you the distance between your tents before depositing you carefully inside his much warmer insulated canvas shelter. You stared dumbly at him as he zipped the two of you inside and started stripping down. Some faraway part of you screamed to look away, preserve his honor and your dignity, but the sudden onslaught of his unfiltered scent washed over you and you barely bit back a moan. Once he was down to his boxer briefs he stumbled over himself to start peeling away your layers. Your foggy brain was now in full tornado- siren mode. He was saying something but all you could manage was to stare up at him in shock and confusion as he made incredibly quick work of all of your layers.

You were sure that he could probably smell your brain engine overheating as he zipped his sleeping bag around you and snaked his limbs around yours like he was trying to absorb you into his being. Everything was so overwhelming and you realized you were shaking against him uncontrollably.

“S-s-s-s-s-sorry, Ez. I c-c-c-cant s-s-t-t-t-top.” Ezra squeezed you tighter and pressed his lips to your temple.

“Shhhh, little supernova,I’ve got you. We’ll have you back to your resplendent self in no time, just keep your hold on consciousness. Don’t you dare depart from me, you stubborn woman.” The humor in his words did little to hide the fear in his voice. He hissed slightly when you wrapped yourself more tightly around him and he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck to hide it. The proximity of his mouth to your scent gland made you gasp and you felt your face warm painfully in response.

After several minutes exhaustion crept back into the marrow of your bones and you were quickly losing your fight against the sleep that was creeping in from the edges. Ezra noticed immediately and pinched your side harshly to keep you awake. You yelped in surprise as he rubbed his hand over the spot in apology

“Stay with me, please.” His voice was fragile and it sent a pang of guilt straight to your heart.

“I’m here, Ezra.” You whispered into his skin. He seemed dissatisfied with your reassurance, though, and proceeded to play a game of twenty questions to keep you engaged until you were warm enough to quell his fears of hypothermic coma. His questions ranged from your favorite prospecting location to childhood comfort foods. By the time your internal temperature had risen to safe levels, both of you were far beyond exhaustion, but he refused himself sleep in favor of watching you.

“I’ll find repose when I’m satisfied you are out of the woods, so to speak. Sleep, little flame, I will join you in slumber soon.” You didn’t have the strength left to put up a fight, settling for reaching up to place your hand on his cheek before dreams overtook you once more. Ezra fought his own eyelids for a while after, counting your breaths and keeping you pressed as tightly to him as possible. He was still shaken to his core at the fright of finding you, the clandestine goddess of his every redeeming quality, nearly frozen amongst the tatters of your ruined shelter. He had very nearly lost you as he slept completely unaware just a few meters away.

He covered the hand that still rested against his cheek with his own and wished bitterly that he could wrap you up safely in his arms the way another alpha could, the way you, above all other omega’s, deserved. Gingerly, for fear of waking you, he pressed his chapped lips into your palm as if he could pour every devotion trapped behind the impenetrable barrier of his self loathing into your flesh with a kiss. Your breathing hitched slightly at the tickle of his mustache and he held his breath until he was sure you had not awoken. Once he was satisfied that you were safe and comfortable, he tucked you up under his chin and drifted back to sleep.

Ezra woke to an empty tent and immediately began to panic. Outside the canvas flap he found a set of small, lightly covered footprints in the shallow snow that had fallen in the night. Quickly grabbing a heavy coat for himself, not bothering to fight over buttoning it single handedly, and a coat for you he set off to follow you. Several meters into the treeline he lost your prints to a blanket of pine needles and swallowed thickly around the scream that was threatening to rip its way out of his throat. He was teetering on the edge of losing his composure when a lilting giggle broke through the haze of terror. A frigid breeze carried another wave of laughter and with it your scent. He turned and walked into the breeze, keeping track of his path inwards lest he become as lost as you must be in a surely delirious state.

He climbed over a wall of shrubbery and stumbled into a clearing to find you knelt next to a frosty stream watching a small furry animal play in the snow. Your laughter carried over the snow back to him and he allowed himself a deep breath of relief. Your cheeks had a healthy color and you were bundled appropriately in layers of thick clothing. Kevva knows why you were out here, but you were safe and with you his heart.

The small animal you were watching spotted him first and scurried off into the brush to hide. You turned to face him, eyes bright and smile wide, and he felt his heart clench. You said something that didn’t quite register for a moment, when it did he felt his eyebrows knit in stunned confusion. You rolled your eyes.

“I ~said~ you are going to turn into a popsicle dressed like that out here!”

Ezra looked down at his disheveled appearance and back up at you in astonishment.

“You almost died and you’re making jokes?!

You laughed.

Ezra felt a blooming warmth in his gut. He reached down, gathered a handful of snow, and strode over to you.

“You are an incredible creature.” He dumped the snow over your head, causing you to gasp. “Yeah, that. Is that ringing any bells?”

“Pretty foolish for a one- armed man to start a snowball fight, don’t you think?”

“Pretty foolish for a woman with inadequate footing on an unstable terrain to challenge someone with no concern for their own well being in a physical altercation, don’t you think?”

You looked at him suspiciously and then down at your legs just in time to see him throw himself on the ground to sweep your legs out from under you. You landed squarely on top of him with a shriek and flailed trying to roll yourself off of him before realizing he had you trapped against his chest with his arm. 

Eventually you slumped against him in defeat.

“Fine, you win.” You wilted dramatically and he laughed into your hair.

“Hey.” You craned your neck to look at him, his face serious and his eyes soft. 

“You struck terror deep into my heart of hearts last night, little one. I truly believed you might have left me for the company of the star sprites.”

You were mesmerized by the sincerity in his voice. No mischief sparkled in his eyes, this wasn’t a game.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Ez. Truly.”

“What precipitated discovering you shivering in the snowfall?”

“My tent was damaged but I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t think it would get that bad. Figured I could repair it in the morning.”

Ezra loosened his hold so you could turn to face him. He seemed to be searching your face for something.

“It wouldn’t have been a bother, starlight. I would not have survived the agony of finding you frozen not but a few paces from where I ignorantly slumbered.”

Your heart was racing in your chest. Ezra and his beautiful words, the way they danced in the air between you as he whispered what you dared not believe. That this incredible man, this alpha tried and true in the battle for life on the Green, would value your life above that of the treasure he left unguarded to come find you… it was inconceivable.

“I’m okay, Ez, thanks to you. You saved me. I’m okay.”

The air between you was thick and the world around you seemed to have faded into obscurity as the two you laid there in silence. The wind changed and Ezra, still not properly buttoned into his jacket and not wearing enough layers, shivered violently.

“We should head back to camp.” You tore your eyes from him, suddenly ashamed. Of your foolishness the night before, for making him worry this morning, for making him track you down in the woods like a wounded animal, for feeling this way towards your business partner, for everything.

Ezra grunted in agreement, uncharacteristically quiet for a man as loquacious as himself. You crawled into a crouch and offered your hand out, which he ruefully took. You hoisted him up without complaint and helped him button his jacket, something that seemed to only further sour his mood. The two of your trudged back to the campsite in silence with you following Ezra who seemed to have a map in his head of the way out of the treeline.

You looked over the tattered remains of your shelter while Ezra ducked into his own to check on your spoils. Once he was reassured of their safety, he joined you.

“Not much left to salvage. I’ll have to burn credits on a new one when we get back to the PUG.” It was an expenditure you had not planned to make and one that would be costly. At this rate there was no doubt in your mind that Ezra would be filing for a new partner before assignments were redistributed. Dropping credits on a new bio shelter immediately after cash out was not going to look favorable in the line up to other potential partners.

Ezra was watching you silently, trying as he ever was to gauge your inner thoughts by the emotions that flitted so swiftly across your angelic features. He worried he’d crossed a line with you in the woods, and the self loathing of almost not having been there in time the night before as well as the knowledge that you had not felt safe coming to him when you so clearly needed help were eating at him. He knew you were upset, but words eluded him when it came to comforting you. The star cycles on this planet were shorter at this point in the rotation. The two of you needed to come up with an answer to the shelter problem before the star fell from sight and took the livable warmt with it.

“You can take shelter with me until then, little spark. I won’t have you perishing in the frost. It’s not a bother.”

You looked up at him, cheeks chapped from the wind and snowflakes in your eyelashes.

“Are you sure, Ez? I’m sure we can send out an emergency signal to the PUG. I don’t want to invade your space again. I am so sorry about last night, I was foolish and I should have known better and I put the entire operation at risk.”

You were rambling now. Guilt and shame and all of the emotions you had been pushing down this entire dig with supressors that were now…. Oh shit.

“An E alert to the PUG will have vultures descending on us in hours. Neither of us is in any fit state for a skirmish. Your presence in my tent is- what are you doing?”

You were on your hands and knees in the snow, bottom displayed to him in a way that had him stirring slightly in his pants. Your hands dug through the powder into the ice, frantically searching for something. You stopped, took a beat to compose yourself, and looked up at him with the gravity of a terminal diagnosis.

“We have another problem.”

You tried not to panic as you watched Ezra process what you had told him with a slack jaw. An Omega already on hour 16 without suppressants, an unbound Alpha, one tent, and a deathly inhospitable terrain. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. The poetry that often spilled like life’s blood from his pouty lips frozen in the icy grip of fate’s poor humor.

“We will craft a solution, little flame. You are safe with me, I swear to you. I would rather part from my remaining arm, hell with the rest of my limbs, too, than put you in harm’s way”

Ezra offered you his hand and pulled you to your feet before brushing some snow out of your hair, another of his casual acts of affection that tore you apart inside

“Ezra, I’m scared. I don’t want to put you through this. I want to call for the PUG. Please, I don’t want to-”

Ezra’s hand was still cradling the side of your head where he had tucked a strand behind your ear. Concern shone brightly in his dark eyes and drew from you the confession you’d tried to swallow.

“I don’t want to lose your trust… or your respect. I- “ You took a deep breath. “I know, morning star.” Your eyes shot back up to his. There was sadness now, something you desperately wanted to soothe away.

“You…”

“Of course I know. Suppressants might stop a rut but they don’t render a man blind. Or stupid.”

You flushed deeply at his words, shame once again bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over your eyelids. He hushed you gently.

“I dared not utter any acknowledgement for fear of scaring you away. You are resilient, but a creature as beautiful as you only survives in this field if they are incredibly smart, which you are. We may have conquered our more primitive urges through chemical but they still influence our… desires. I did not want to create such conflict within you by challenging your reason with your baser needs. I am not a suitable mate and… in crystal truth I did not care to risk the blessing of our proximity with gluttony.”

Your breathing was coming in ragged bursts as scorching hot tears blazed down your face to chill in the icy winds.

“Do not tease me, Ezra.” You barely gritted it out without sobbing.

“I would never conceive of such cruelty, not for you. I have done horrible, vicious things to survive, but I would surrender myself to a thousand tortuous deaths before I brought such tears to these eyes. Please believe my words to be true, my flame. My heart beats in tandem with yours. You make me feel alive. For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe. Part of me died on the Green that.I thought was lost forever, long before the separation of my arm. Meeting you, the holy privilege of being in your service, it has revived that which had been mummified in the sunken hollow of my heart.”

The tears had started flowing in earnest now and his thumb brushed gently against your cheek to catch them. Your hands came up to rest on his chest and then, when he did not move in discomfort, you slowly slid them up to cradle the back of his neck. Ezra leaned down to rest his forehead against yours and then closed his eyes like he hadn’t had a moment’s rest in years. You stroked your thumb up and down his hairlineon the back of his neck in a motion that mirrored his on your cheeks moments ago and he shivered- whether from your touch or the cold you could not say.

“We should take shelter, Ez, before the weather gets mean.” Ezra squeezed your hip before turning to duck into the tent. You took a moment to ground yourself, already feeling the heady rush of hormones and the rising body temperature they bring.

Inside the tent, Ezra was prepping his bedroll for sleep and layering every item of clothing he had.

“Ez… what are you doing?”

“I won’t have you both in pain and afraid of being taken advantage of. I will sit watch outside the tent while you toil through the first wave. A fresh heat off suppressors can be intense, I need you to feel safe.”

You were stunned. An act of generosity like offering to share his tent and supplies was already monumental for a prospector, even one as kindhearted as Ezra claimed he truly wasn’t. To offer those things without trade for your comfort was beyond what you could have ever asked for, and all in the name of making sure you were safe. All for love.

You strode over to him and gently took the large sweater out of his hand and tossed it aside before taking his hand in both of yours.

“Can you stay? Just for tonight, please. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.With the pain. I feel safer with you, Ez. Always.”

Ezra looked to the top of the tent as if it held the answer to life’s dearest mysteries and swallowed thickly before dropping his head to his chest. Stepped towards you, into your personal space, and placed a chaste kiss to your heated forehead.

”‘l’ll stay for as long as you need. As long as you want.”

The winds picked up to a shrill scream outside the tent which helped cover the muffled sounds of your cries into the breadth of Ezra’s chest as the first wave of unsuppressed heat washed over you. It had started with a dull ache to your lower abdomen that bloomed into an inferno of bottomless need. Every nerve ending felt raw and exposed. The ache in your abdomen had spread out into your genitals and up under your rib cage where your heart beat wildly. Ezra did his best to comfort you, his large hand rubbing uselessly up and down your sweat- drenched back.The smell of him did very little to quench the fires inside. Another intense wave of agony gripped you and caused you to cry out his name. He pulled you into him through instinct , your mouth now dangerously close to his scent gland.You nuzzled against it slightly as you tried to breath through the mild convulsions your body endured at the crest of every wave.Ezra tried to hide his gasp at the combination of your heady scent and the feeling of you so close to marking him as he had imagined shamefully so many times before. His resolve was wavering as every new wave of hormones tested the strength of his own blockers.

“Kevva help me, tell me what to do.” It was barely a whisper into your hair, but the sound of his voice strained with desire drew a pitiful whimper from you that sent daggers into Ezra’s heart. He shushed you gently and squeezed you a little tighter in an effort to soothe you.

“Ezra…” Ezra took a breathe to steady himself before looking down into your eyes shining with fevered heat and the vulnerability of hope.

“Tell me how to be of service to you,, my love. Anything, simply name it.”

“Ez, I didn’t want it to be this way. I- I- I-” You hissed and gasped through another wave. “I’m so sorry Ezra.” He stroked his hand down the back of your head.

“You have nothing to apologize for, little one, not one thing.”

“Ez, please-” Another small noise gripped his heart like a vice.

“Anything, anything.”

“Ez please fuck me. I need you, please.” Ezra was stunned into silence. “I love you, I trust you. I’ve wan- wanted this for so long, thought about it more than is even sane and healthy. I never wanted it to be like this, but I don’t know if I- if I can take any more. I’m so sorry, Ezra.”

Ezra felt his heart shatter into a million pieces as you begged him for what he’d felt so retched and vile for squeezing himself to muffled release by fantasizing about for months. But this was wrong, he couldn’t do this with you, to you, in such a state of vulnerability.

“I won’t take advantage of you like this, Please don’t ask this of me, my flame.:”

“Ezra look at me.” Ezra looked lost and a little scared but he held your gaze. While you spoke. “It isn’t taking advantage, baby. You are helping me, taking care of me. My alpha.” You reached up to cup his cheek and he audibly moaned, both at the touch and the claim over him.

“I-”

“Ezra. I want this. I am of sound mind, or as sound mind as one could be surrounded by the smell and touch and sound of the person they love and desire more than anything in any known galaxy. My body has hungered for you- ah- for so long as my heart found its rhythm with yours. Even through suppressants I knew I was hopelessly yours. Ezra, I need you. Please, alpha. My alpha. My Ezra.” You reached up and brought his forehead down to yours as another wave tore through you. Your shuddered breath as you swallowed back a painde whimper was the final nail in his coffin. Kevva save his filthy soul, he was giving in.

“Okay, little one, you’ve conquered my acquiescence. I just ask of you, beg of you, that you not resent me later for what I will have done to temper your discomfort. You have my heart and, while the conditions are less than suitable, “

“Ez…”

The first kiss was like tectonic plates fitting back into place. Somewhere out in the great unknown stars aligned and the very universe breathed a sigh of relief. His lips were out of practice and unsure, moving against yours with only the faintest tremble as his body fought against his own suppressors. He wanted to take his time and savor you, learn you, worship you, but your own needs were like a lightning storm beneath your fevered flesh. You nipped at his lip and whined into his mouth when he deepened the kiss in response. He tasted like the bubblegum toothpaste that his adopted “niece” had sent him as a joke. His endearingly patchy facial hair scratched pleasantly against your face and, under more favorable conditions, you might have stopped to explore that sensation. The inferno ravaging your nervous system was unrelenting and you tugged him closer against you as it burned in another white- hot flash.

Ezra seemed to get the message, having pulled back to look down at you in concern. A part of you that desperately wished you could be lavishing him in every bit of honeyed affection that you knew he’d gone so long without wanted to kiss away that distress. Instead, you settled for placing a feather light kiss to his inner wrist where his arm was holding himself up in an impressive display of muscle control right next to your head. He dipped back down to plant a scorching kiss that left you breathless before moving down your neck a ways and sucking harshly against your scent gland. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and need, gripping his hair and thrusting your hips up to meet him. He moaned in response and met your thrust with a grind down of his own. You felt him against you then for the first time and nearly jumped out of your skin. He shushed you quietly before kissing back up the column of your throat to bite at your chin and then kiss you so deeply that you honest- to- Kevva forgot how to breathe. Your hands seemed to move of their own accord across his body; down his back, threading through his unwashed curls, palming at his backside, feeling the chorded muscles in his arm where he held himself above you. All the while he was grinding down on you until you hooked one of your legs around his waist to seek the friction your body called to his for.

This seemed to finally light a fire under his cute little ass. Suddenly he was leaning back away from you, tugging your tanktop down to release your breasts. He latched onto one nipple and pulled harshly at the other with his fingers. Your resulting cry of pleasure was met with a growl that seemed to come from deep within his chest. You pushed him back just long enough to strip yourself of your tanktop and begin working your soaked panties down your legs. Ezra started to resume his work against your breasts when instead he snatched your panties out of your hand and stared agape at the massive dark spot staining the crotch. You laid back and spread your legs for him, one hand trailing down to dip into your dripping folds, maintaining eye contact all the while. Tossing the cloth over his shoulder, Ezra made to dive into you but you stopped him with pointed toes to his bare chest. You could feel his heart pounding under the skin. He looked up at you in bewildered confusion, something that would have been incredibly kissable without the agony of fresh heat.

“Baby I need you inside me. I need to come on your cock, please. Alpha I need your knot.”

Ezra swallowed thickly and fumbled frantically with his pants. You sat up and batted his hand out of the way to do it yourself. He placed his large, rough hand between your breasts and gently pushed you back down so he could crawl over you, kicking his pants and boxer briefs down in the process. You reached for him and the look on your face as you did, so soft and sweet even in the throes of pain and passion, and he felt himself falling harder and deeper for you then he knew was possible. He needed this, needed to make it better. Needed to make you feel good. Needed to claim you. Needed to knot you.

“I need your assurance that you’re truly ready, my flame. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you.” His forehead was pressed to yours again, breath coming in hot bursts against your lips as he struggled to contain himself.

“Ez, I need you. Don’t- please.” He kissed you then and used the distraction of his mouth on yours to begin pushing into you. He wasn’t extraordinarily long, but goddamn he was thick. The incredible stretch of him inside you as he inched his way through the scorching wet of your aching pussy. You cried out as he bottomed out in you and he shushed you gently in response.

“Shhh, I’ve got you. I’m going to take care of you, little star. Such a sweet omega, my omega.” He was propped on his forearm next to your head, watching down at you while you adjusted to the welcome intrusion of him. He pulled out slightly, jaw set in a hard line of concentration as he focused entirely on not hurting you. The friction was almost unbearable and you cried out in relief as it sated the agonizing need that had been washing over you for hours.

“Oh Ezra!” The snap of his hips back into you was pure ecstasy and you were quickly losing any sense of composure as every nerve ending lit up like fireworks. Your head was thrown back in pleasure already, and that just wouldn’t do. He nudged at your jaw with his nose and you met his gaze before tasting his lips again. This kiss was slower, less frantic, and you took the opportunity to pull him fully down onto you with only a moment’s hesitation from Ezra. It started with grinding into you, both of you whining and moaning into one another’s mouths. Your legs came up without you meaning them to and wrapped around his waist. Grinding became slow, hard thrusts between whispered praises, pleas, and declarations of love. Slow, hard thrusts became more frenzied as both of you neared your release. His arm wound under you to hold you in place as he started slamming as hard and fast into you as he could without breaking your hold around him. You almost didn’t recognize the noises being pulled from you as your own voice and you weren’t in your own mind enough to care. You felt the winding within you threatening to break and tried to warn him.

“Ez! Ez! Ez!”

“I’ve got you. Come for me, pretty girl. Let it go!” Ezra’s voice was strained with the effort of keeping his thrusts measured and his aim sure so he could bring you the release that would stave off the worst of your heat. You could feel the rippling of his muscles under his skin as he worked over and within you. The little grunts and groans from his lips so close to your ear, the sounds of his praise and encouragement. It was all too much. You came with a deafening cry, your body bowing beneath him so hard that he nearly lost his hold on you. He managed to keep his grip and worked you through it, all the while your release pulled him deeper within you as your body instinctually prepared to take his knot.

“I- I’m”

“Oh alpha, please. I need it. I need your knot. Ezra, please.” Your words were barely intelligible in the haze of your orgasm but they were enough to bring him over the edge. You could feel his knot swelling at your entrance. His hips stuttered against you and from his lips poured a litany of whines and moans and mumbled praise that pushed you over the edge of another, less intense orgasm. The waves of your second orgasm helped draw his knot in and he spilled himself into you with a shout. His face buried into your neck on instinct but he stopped there. You stifled your disappointment on not being marked and reached up to stroke the hair on the back of his head with one hand while the other held him tightly to you. You kissed up and down the side of his neck, paying a little extra attention to his own scent gland and feeling him shudder above you. The two of you stayed that way for a long time in comfortable silence, so long that you had started to wonder if he had fallen asleep still knotted within you when he spoke soft and low next to your ear.

“Are you okay, little one?” You smiled against the warm skin of his shoulder and kissed him softly there before answering.

“I’m more than okay, Ezra.” When he didn’t immediately respond, your anxiety started to climb in a series of escalating ‘what- if’s’. He seemed to smell your discomfort and moved to sooth you.

“Hey now, what malfeasance stirs my love from her ecstasy?” His lips tickled against your cheek as he craned his neck back up to see you. You flushed in embarrassment.

“It’s okay if you didn’t mean it, Ez. I know the hormones can be a lot and I owe you big time for helping me and-” Ezra cut you off with a kiss that seemed determined to wipe any such thought from your mind.

“Hush now, little omega. Of course I meant it, every word. And you were beyond incredible, exceeding my every fantasy. The very idea of you being indebted to me for fulfilling a desire that I, too, have sheltered for far too long is ludicrous. I love you. Please, I am begging you to hear me. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” Every confession was punctuated with another kiss to your forehead, cheek, chin, temple, until you gave in and palmed his cheek so that you could reach his lips.

“I love you, too, Ez.” The two of you fell back into easy silence for a while until the seeds of doubt sprouted again in your mind. You were toying lightly with the striking blonde birthmark along his hairline when you must have made a face.

“Tell me.” The request was soft and less a question than a gentle command. You screwed up your face a moment before sighing deeply.

“You didn’t mark me…” You felt pathetic and foolish the moment you said it. Ezra brought his hand to your cheek and looked into your eyes before explaining.

“It’s no secret at this juncture that the conditions under which we coupled for the first time were less than ideal. Truthfully I have fallen far short of what you deserve and what I should have provided you as your alpha. My omega,” That last part was spoken so quietly, like he had said it to himself before remembering himself and continuing. “The gruelling throes of an unplanned fresh heat were not how I desired to knot you for the first time and I am only so fortunate that you are newly off your suppressants so that breeding you would not be under such unfortunate circumstances as a shared bedroll on icy ground. That is to say, my heart, that I want to save such acts of commitment to scenarios in which I can worship you the way you deserve and lavish you in the sort of luxuries that an omega of your unsurpassable beauty and strength deserves. It was all I could do to contain myself and keep from claiming you for all to see, all I could do to refrain from asking you for the very same.”

Your eyes pricked with tears at the sentiment and you blinked them away. You wanted to hide from him until you got your emotions under control, but trying to escape his knowing gaze while still knotted would be excruciating for both of you. Your face was hot and you were filled to the brim with a hurricane of emotion.

“Ez, I would have been more than happy to have you just like this. I don’t need all of those material things. It’s you, Ezra, only you.” It was his turn to swallow back tears.

“I could never have presumed to even dream of such proclamations leaving your sweet lips, my star. You are my everything. My redemption, my faith, my hope.” You held him close to you for several minutes after that, just feeling his warmth and enjoying being able to touch him with the affection that had been tormenting you for months in the frustration of denial. When Ezra did pick his head back up there was a familiar determined set to his jaw. “If you desire it so, I will claim you right here, right now. I would not deny you anything you asked me for in earnest, but I would very much like to… I…” You had never seen Ezra at a loss for words before and it endeared you to him so fiercely.

“Ez, baby,” His eyes darted back up to yours guardedly. “I am yours and I am patient. We have all the time in all the worlds.” You trailed your fingertips across his scent gland and smiled when his breath caught slightly. “If candles and fluffy pillows and music are what you want, I am more than happy to oblige. I’ll give you anything you want. After everything you’ve been through… you’ve fought so hard and so long.”

“Are you positive you don’t mind accommodating my desires for…. My vow to you is unbreakable regardless of where it is made. You deserve better than to be claimed in the fog of your heat on the floor of my tent like an animal.”

“Ezra. This is already more than I dared to dream of. You are more than I dared dream of.” You kissed him then, silencing any other doubts he might have about the sincerity of your agreement to his request. The two of you laid together like that for some time, still fully entangled and lavishing one another with kisses and explorative touches and whispered praise while the storm raged on outside the tent and buffeted its thin walls around you. You traced his scars with admiration and reverence, something that seemed to make him quite a bit more emotional than he was ready to show you. You would give him time, but you longed to hear every story behind them. The scars around his stump were still quite dark, having not yet had time to fade. Your touches there were feather light and made with great caution to avoid making him uncomfortable. You knew what it meant for him to allow himself to be this vulnerable with you, Every scar was an almost- ending and this one in particular held a lot of shame. You knew he had lost it on the Green and somehow in the process of escaping with his life he had become somewhat responsible for the life of the young girl he occasionally corresponded with. As much as he ran his pretty mouth, there was still so much you didn’t know about his journey to you.

“You’re so perfect, Ez, so beautiful.” You cupped his jaw with the hand that wasn’t still cradling his arm. His lower lip trembled slightly but he muffled its betrayal by slotting it against your own in a kiss that stole your breath away. He didn’t trust himself to speak without his voice wavering, so he elected to show you instead. To thank you for trusting him, for loving him, for letting him love you. He cradled you with his hand and caged you in with his body like he was afraid that holding too tightly might hurt you, might scare you away. The smell of him all around you as another wave of heat washed over you made you cry out into his mouth and his hips ground his knot deeper into you in response, earning a wanton moan from both of you. The pain was less intense this time and Ezra set a more leisurely pace. Still knotted to you, he couldn’t move much without injuring you both but he could grind and rut against you. His hand tangled itself into your hair and he gripped at it to turn your head so that he could lavish attention down your neck to your scent gland. You finished faster this time, still sensitive from your last orgasm, and the wet heat of you again took him over the edge right after.

“Are you comfortable, my omega?’ His voice was hoarse from shouting his release just moments before. You looked up at him, fucked out and cockdrunk on him, and nodded with a dazed smile. He chuckled softly and stroked his fingers down your cheek. “You should rest while you can, little one. The sun will usher in a new beginning. The worst is behind us.” He kissed your hair, your nose, your lips, before settling himself atop you the best he could without crushing you or yanking the knot in such a way that might cause you more pain. You reached up to kiss the dimple that popped as he watched you fight sleep and then cuddled into his chest and had the best night’s sleep of your life. Just as Ezra had promised, morning’s light filtered through the leaves in the trees around you and made sparkling opalescent illusions in the snow below. You woke first, noticing first the empty ache between your legs where his knot had released and he had slipped out of you in the night. He had you in a vice grip pressed to his chest like he was afraid you might slip away from him in the night. He was sleeping so peacefully, the muscles in his face more relaxed than you had ever seen him. He looked about ten years younger without the worries of the world weighing so heavily on his features. He was objectively gorgeous and you simply could not resist reaching up to press kisses to the long stretch of his neck, the bare patches in his beard, the soft flesh of his cheeks, the ghosts of wrinkles around his eyes, the skin below his birthmark, down his nose, and to his lips which were now puckered comically in waiting. You giggled lightly and blew a raspberry against them, causing his eyes to shoot open and a raucous laugh to burst from his chest. He rolled the two of you so that he was back on top and proceeded to smother you in obnoxiously loud kisses until you cried mercy so that you didn’t pee the bedroll. The moment he released you from his iron grip you scrabbled out the front of the tent and sprinted for the treeline, completely oblivious to his hungry gaze on your bare backside as you scampered off for privacy. He unzipped the window flaps in your absence and started organizing supplies to make the two of you a ration breakfast- all the while daydreaming about being able to cook you a proper breakfast after ravaging you in a proper bed.

You crept quietly back into the tent when his back was turned and sheepishly pulled on his shirt from the night before. It smelled like him in a way that made your heart ache as much as your still- swollen sex. He turned to you with a crooked grin and you suppressed the urge to kiss that dimple you loved so dearly, electing instead to tug playfully at the blonde patch. The love in his eyes as he stared up at you and the way they glittered in the almost magical ambient light brought tears to your own. He reached up and wiped them away and rested his palm on your cheek.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, just enjoying the proximity and domesticity. Once everything was properly disposed of, Ezra reclined back onto your bedroll and pulled you back into his chest with a sigh.

“Y’know, we could probably make the sling if we cut across that clearing you found yesterday and be back on the PUG before this planet’s next rotation.” You smiled up at him and felt warmth spread through your bones at the admiration and mischief married in his eyes. The two of you packed and and started on your way rather quickly, fingers interwoven and eyes trained on the wood ahead. There was a new kind of tension in the air between you as you traveled quickly towards the promise of the beginning of the rest of your lives bound together in blood and spirit. No matter what waited for you on the other side, you knew that you would never have to face anything alone ever again, and that was enough. Ezra was enough.

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.7)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Seven) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 3,097 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death Author’s Notes: I really like writing scenes of them working because… it’s hot. So, part of this is me indulging myself.

Part Six || Part Eight || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Steve got back onto the plane, sitting down as soon as he could. He was covered in sweat, having had to run back to the plane. He had sent Natasha ahead of him, insisting he could finish the mission on their escape. He had succeeded too.

“You alright, Cap?” Clint called from the cockpit.

“Yeah,” Steve answered as heartily as he could. He wiped at his forehead, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

“Must have been a tough sprint if it wore your ass out,” Tony commented from further into the plane.

“Got it done,” Steve responded, to a smirk from Tony.

As he relaxed, he pulled out his phone from the bag on the table next to him. He opened it, searching the cameras of the house for Y/N. It was something he did regularly when he was away; he liked keeping an eye on her whenever he could. He enjoyed watching her do regular things, even when doing nothing like sleeping. She was tranquil and he loved her pensive looks when she was reading or focusing on knitting.

Now though, she was racing through the house towards the front door and his brow furrowed in curiosity of what had her so excited.

He switched cameras to the driveway and saw a car pulling in. He straightened up in alarm, trying to zoom in on the driver. He relaxed, remembering their conversation a few days ago. He had told her that she could have her friends visit soon. She had technically asked but had not clarified when.

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They were here!

You came down the stairs as quickly as you could. Natalie and Yua had driven up upon your request. You told them Steve was going to be on a mission across the country, so it would be okay for them to come over for a few hours.

In the main living room, Bryce was talking to the front gate saying he was not informed any visitors were coming.

“It’s my friends!” you told him, slowing down next to him. He shot you a look of surprise. “Tell the gate to let them in or I’ll run down the driveway and push the button myself.”

“Did you ask Mr. Rogers? Does he know?”

“Yes!” you called over your shoulder. You were barefoot, not stopping to grab shoes. It was warm enough out being late summer.

<> <> <>

Bryce stared after Y/N confused. Steve had told him no such thing. He watched her disappear around the corner, and said into the phone, “Yeah, let them in.”

<> <> <>

Steve watched Y/N come out the front door – wearing no shoes at that – excitedly. She practically threw herself into their arms. Jealousy crawled over his skin; she had not done that for him for a couple months. She responded when he initiated sex and kissed him when he came home. But it was never with that much enthusiasm. Perhaps it was her pregnancy hormones; it is what he had to chalk it up to to avoid outright anger.

He dialed Bryce’s number and held it up to his ear.

“Don’t let them stay too long,” Steve ordered Bryce as soon as he answered.

“She did ask you, correct? She said she did.”

“Yes… she did,” Steve said with some difficulty. “I am just irritated I had not been informed exactly when she meant. But she did ask. We just have guests coming over later, remember?”

“Of course. I haven’t forgotten, sir,” Bryce replied.

“Good. I want Y/N to be able to freshen up with enough time. She doesn’t need to spend the whole afternoon giggling like a schoolgirl with her friends. And no, they can’t stay for dinner. Because I know she’s going to ask.”

He hung up the phone.

“She’s quite the little handful sometimes,” Tony commented lightly. “A foxy little handful. But a handful nonetheless.”

“Unfortunately,” Steve muttered in response, returning to the camera.

“You ever watch her shower on there when she’s alone?”

“Jesus, Tony.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Tony returned quickly. Steve gave a little laugh and Tony chuckled, wagging his finger at him. “See. I knew it. Nothing to be ashamed of. She is ultimately yours after all. Totally okay to be examining your most prized possession.”

“Who is over there?” Natasha asked.

“Her friends, Natalie and Yua.” Natasha perked up at the mention of Natalie and Steve noticed. He shook his head, “No. Not happening.”

Natasha mocked a pout, “Oh, come on, Steve. I don’t rough girls up too bad. She seemed interested enough. Even if she was seeing someone at the time. She may be single now.”

“Not happening, Nat. I don’t want anyone else there so we can talk freely.”

“Fine. Buzzkill,” Natasha muttered, leaning back in her chair.

<> <> <>

“Twins?” Yua and Natalie exclaimed at the same time as soon as you told them.

You nodded, cracking open your pop and taking a swift drink. You had asked the maid, Patricia, to whip up some sandwiches to have lunch with them. The three of you were seated in the living room, plates in your laps.

“Yeah. Can you fucking believe it? My first pregnancy and I get slammed with this.”

“Well, I won’t deny you got slammed—” Yua started.

“Oh, shut it,” Natalie cut in, slapping Yua upside the head.

“Ow! Okay, well, also, look at your tummy! I wouldn’t believe that you would be already showing like that if it were just one baby!”

“Yua! God!” Natalie scolded. “It’s not that big, Y/N.”

“It’s going to get a lot bigger,” you joked, a smiling tugging at your lips.

“See, Y/N can take a joke. Why can’t you, Natalie?”

You smiled at their banter, a feeling of loss tugging at your heart. You had missed last month and the month before girl’s night much to everyone’s disappointment. You had vowed to not make that mistake again which is why you had asked Steve if your friends could visit and he had agreed without much resistance, shockingly.

“How are you going to take care of two babies?” Natalie asked seriously as you picked up half of your sandwich, taking a bite.

“A nanny.”

She cocked her head in surprise. “Like… live in?”

You shrugged, “I’m not sure yet. Pepper is going to come over at some point and help me interview people.”

“Pepper?”

“Um, Tony’s wife.”

“First name basis with them now. Nice,” Yua said, nodding in approval. “You’re in with the big people now. Thanks for honoring my request to remember us little people. But, do you really want a live in nanny? If you do, you should get one that’s not too comely. Don’t want Steve Jude Law’ing you or anything.”

“Honestly, if he gave me a break, I might actually welcome the reprieve.”

“I TOLD you. Sex addict!” Yua exclaimed, throwing her hands out, her mouth full of sandwich. “I mean, the pregnancy—" You shushed her, trying not to laugh. You knew Bryce was nearby and you did not want him to overhear. She quieted down and whispered, “I told you. Didn’t I?”

Time flew by; sandwiches long gone, replaced by a bag of chips that were on their way to being completely demolished had taking their place. When you were interrupted with a clearing of a throat, the three of your eyes fell upon Bryce standing in the doorway from the hallway.

“Mr. Rogers said three hours. You still have to get ready for dinner tonight.”

“Oh…” you said, heat tinging your cheeks at being told you had a schedule to keep in front of your friends. Especially since dinner was mentioned and he was essentially telling you you needed to kick them out. “But, there is room—”

“Mr. Rogers said the team only,” Bryce cut in, only looking slightly apologetic at having to tell you that no, you could not ask your friends to stay.

“Dinner? And you didn’t invite us?” Yua teased.

“It’s with the team only, apparently…” you trailed off, shooting a quick glance at Bryce. He nodded once before turning to leave the room. “Steve wanted them over so we could break the news about the babies to everyone.”

“Oh, so we were the first you told? Perfect. I love feeling special,” Yua chirped, not seeming bothered by the fact she could not stay. Natalie on the other hand looked reserved; she had always been more perceptive than Yua.

“Of course you’re special, Yua,” you said, standing up from the couch. “I suppose we should… start saying goodbye. Have to make sure my hair is nice and all.”

Standing outside, Natalie turned to face you before getting into the passenger side. She leaned in, staring at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, the playfulness from moments ago having disappeared from her face. She was solemn, studying you closely.

You forced a smile, “I’ve got to be okay.”

“No. You don’t.”

“I know,” you whispered, giving her hand a squeeze. “It’s not all bad though.”

She exhaled heavily, looking dissatisfied with your answer. “Not all bad doesn’t mean good, Y/N.”

“It’s just… different,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “And I’m nervous. I mean, giving birth to one baby is terrifying. But going through the pain twice? What if they fight to be the first one out?”

That at least made Natalie laugh, relaxing the tension. You took the opportunity to pull her in for one last hug.

“Call us. For anything.”

“I will.”

As soon as they disappeared out of the gate, you felt weight pressing down on you again. You were alone once more. The mere few hours you had together had been reprieve but it had been far too short.

Annoyance built up in you at Steve refusing to let them stay for dinner. Deciding right there, you thought to hell with looking perfect. Simple hair, leggings, and winged eyeliner was the best he was going to get. You turned to go back inside and let Patricia know she could go home because you were going to be the one cooking dinner.

<> <> <>

Pepper sighed heavily settling into one of the tall plush chairs at Steve’s – well, your – kitchen island.

“Where’s Patricia?” she questioned, seeing you removing the chicken from the marinade Patricia had let it sit in for the better part of the day. You arranged it in two prepared pans, enough pieces for thirteen people, including Bryce and Eloise.

“I sent her home early.”

“Oh?”

You shrugged, “I wanted to cook the dinner myself. She’s wonderful but I wanted to do it myself. It calms me down. Always has.” You checked the clock and saw it was almost 5:00pm. Dinner was supposed to be at 6:00pm. The chicken would take thirty, so you decided to wait another ten minutes before putting it in.

“As long as you don’t poison me,” Pepper joked as her nanny, Eloise, came into the room, bouncing her baby. She smiled, “Oh, is she awake now? Ugh, she’s probably going to keep me up all night. Something to look forward to, Y/N.”

“Wonderful,” you said under your breath as you went into the pantry to look for the potatoes.

Pepper spoke to Morgan, playing with her as you turned the heat up to high on the stovetop to get the water boiling and began chopping the potatoes. Skin on, you thought to yourself. That is where most of the nutrients were anyway and Steve could not complain about you getting more nutrients now could he? You were going to roast them too.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself remembering you were going to roast them. You moved to the fridge quickly to grab the baking soda and eyeballed the amount to toss in.

“What are you doing?” Pepper asked from the counter.

“Baking soda helps draw the starch to the surface and then when you bake them, it makes them extra crispy.”

“Interesting,” Pepper commented, sounding genuine. She eyed your stomach and said, “Are you wearing a loose sweater on purpose? Hiding a baby bump?”

Snorting, you lied, “There’s not much to see yet.”

“You’ll start showing more soon enough. You’re almost four months along now,” Pepper told you.

“Steve is very excited for that.”

“Men love seeing it because it makes them prideful that they put a baby there. But they’re not the ones growing the baby, are they?” Pepper noticed your stare over your shoulder, and she laughed. “Well, it’s true. I think women are our own brand of superhero. Our bodies are powerful. You should be proud of yourself. You’re doing something remarkable.”

You refrained from telling her she sounded a little Handmaid’s Tale-ish. It was true, of course. Your body held a special kind of magic to grow another human being. But like Bucky, she sounded like she was trying to coerce your thoughts and feelings to be more accepting of the situation.

“It’s not what I had planned for myself,” you finally said after debating about what to say. You opened the oven to slide the pans with the chicken inside. Now to prep the salad. Shit, you also needed to get the wine.

“Me either.”

You stopped what you were doing, standing still to give her your full attention.

“I hoped I would be on the board at Stark Industries. It took a long time for me to admit to myself I liked Tony, first off. His attention he gave me, his sarcastic wit. Yes, he was a little forceful, but he saw something there that I refused to see because I was so focused on getting a leg up in the company.” She was explaining all of this to you calmly, but you sensed some hurt beneath the surface. She gave you an encouraging smile all the same as she said, “Things don’t always work out the way you plan. But it doesn’t make it the end of your life. Just life as you knew it. Change doesn’t mean everything is falling apart.”

“And… you’re satisfied being home and taking care of a baby then?”

Pepper was quiet for a moment. “Most of the time.” She shot you a look. “I think you understand Steve and Tony are very much alike in their… ways and temperament. There will be days you pine for what could have been. But it’s best to keep that to yourself. It’s not worth the fight.”

She sounded like she was speaking from experience.

“I have a different sort of power now. You ever seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding? ‘The man is the head of the house, but the woman is the neck. And she can turn the head any way she wants.’” She leaned in. “Make him happy and you can have him wrapped around your finger. It makes things easier. For everyone.”

You bit back a comment, nodding in its stead.

“Trust me,” she said, leaning back in her chair, turning her attention back to Morgan who had began pulling at her hair. She poked Morgan’s tummy gently, smiling, “You little hooligan. I spent a long time on these curls. Daddy loves them, don’t go ruining it for him.”

Self-consciously, you touched at your hair that you had barely spent any time on. It looked fine but you had not put any extra effort into it. You had already made your choice though: a good dinner and sticking it to Steve subtly about waving off his ‘freshen up’ idea for you or do exactly as he asked, letting someone else cook the meal for the guests coming to your home. You had chosen the former.

A line of cars rolling up the driveway caught your attention out the window, and you told Pepper, “Looks like they’re here.”

You went back to attending to the potatoes, prepping them for the oven.

Tony came in first, much to Pepper’s happiness. She rose to give him a kiss and he commented that she looked lovely. He said hello to Morgan, tickling her, before his gaze fell on you. You could feel the heat of his stare on your back.

“Y/N is cooking?” Tony questioned. “Where’s the cook?”

You looked over your shoulder and said with more conviction than you felt, “I sent her home. Wanted to do it myself.”

“Hmm.” His expression and tone were unreadable, which made you slightly more nervous. Gauging his reaction would help you determine what Steve’s was going to be more accurately. “What have you guys been talking about?”

“Nothing, just cooking tips,” Pepper told him without missing a beat. She held Morgan up to him. “Your daughter is in need of some cuddles from her father.”

Steve walked in next with Bucky, Sam, and Clint. His eyes fell on you, running over you quickly. He was stoic for a few moments, taking it in. Your resolve to be a brat was dissolving quickly, even if you knew he would not cause a scene in front of everyone. There was ice behind his eyes, if only for a moment that you caught.

“Seems Y/N is doing the honors of making our meal. What a treat,” Tony said to Steve and you knew then what his real feelings were about you cooking. You had a maid for a reason, that was the message.

The mask Steve donned was well crafted. “Truly. She hasn’t cooked me anything since we first started seeing each other. I have faith in her.”

He came over to you and now that his back was to everyone, you could see the truth in his eyes. He was not pleased with the situation, which had been your goal. Steve’s hand rested on your stomach, his nose nuzzling into your hair, inhaling deeply.

“We’ll talk about it as soon as everyone leaves,” he whispered into your ear. He placed a quick kiss on the side of your face before pulling away.

The dinner had gone well, everyone satisfied with the meal and even more happy with the announcement. That still did not quell Steve’s disappointment in your choice to be preoccupied with cooking rather than entertaining and spending quality time with your new pseudo-family. Talk about it you did not though. As soon as everyone left, Steve turned away from the door, not sparing you a look. He did not answer his study door when you knocked and called his name. You slept alone and cold. He shut you out and you hated to admit how much the rejection stung more than if he had yelled at you.

~~~

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