#she goes on and on in three books about second and third chances

[aboutnavi]

I was brushing my teeth, reflecting about life, & my mind went back to AFTG and there is a scene on the first book that it has been stuck on my brain since I read the trilogy again this January and it's about Seth. Now, I know the fandom -in general- barely talk about Seth because Nora decided to kill him off for shock value and when people try to talk about him, it always comes back to 'he was a homophobic, disgusting piece of shit' which yes, valid but also, are we forgetting Aaron? The babyfication of Aaron in this fandom had everyone collectively forgetting he was exactly like Seth (even worse: towards his family!!!). Two wrongs doesn't make one right & I'm in no way justifying Seth's action but if we never talk about characters on AFTG just because they were problematic, we are not talking about any of them, ever (ok maybe some of them, but still).

My point is: the scene. Neil is confused as to why Seth hates Kevin -specifically him- so much, since Seth could get along with most people if he wanted and tried hard enough but he refused to give ground to Kevin & his answer is just so humanly heartbreaking it goes to my list of moments Nora did something right in AFTG. The scene goes like this:

Neil: Why do you hate him?

Seth: Because I'm sick of him getting everything he wants just because he's Kevin Day. Do you know what fame gets you, shitface? Everything. All he has to do is ask for it, and someone will give it to him. Doesn't matter what. Doesn't matter who. The world is dying to give him anything he wants. When he broke his hand, his fans cried for him. They flooded our locker room with letters and flowers. The amazing Kevin Day can't play anymore. Their lives were over. They'd grieve the loss forever. But tell me when's the last time anyone cried over you? Never, right? They're there for Kevin every step of the way, but where were they when we needed them?

Neil, stupidly: So you're jealous.

Seth: His life is not more important than mine just because he's more talented.

Neil first instinct is to say jealousy because jealousy is something he understands (he felt jealous of Kevin for having a future, for being able to play, for the talent, for the life he never got to live when his mother ran away, etc.) but for me what Seth is trying to portrait is more like the painful awareness that you get when you realize you're also worthy of love and care. Seth is such an unexplored character who had so much potential if Nora hadn't killed him for the sake of showing how Riko could be/was dangerous (and she could have done that in so many different ways!!!) & you can see that on, for example, Nora's post about his life. Seth was always the no-priority person, the kid no one payed attention to, the boy that if killed, not even his mother would come for the funeral. He was every aspect a Fox and he spent his entire life being told he was no one and to be able to say his life is not more important than mine shows so much development; the chance he had put on himself for being open to love, to care, to second and third chances... it was all there. It breaks my heart that he never got the chance to become something. & I do not believe he was an inherently bad person? They are so young in AFTG, all of them. Maybe Seth wasn't bad; maybe he was just twenty-two, you know?

& on the extra content when they tell Allison he died and she goes 'He called me not even an hour ago! He was drunk and rambling but he was happy for the first time in weeks. He was talking about how he finally thought graduating would be okay, about how he wanted me to help him look into grad schools. He wanted to go into social work and help people like he helps us. I know he wanted to die! Everyone knows he wanted to die! Every time he said he was done with life I walked away from him and every time he came chasing after me. This is the first time--he wanted to live.' breaks my heart.

Because, ok, Seth dies. Let's pretend it was a good idea for him to die to set some sort of impact on the story for a second. Except his death goes without much fuss. The shock Nora wanted is felt for maybe three seconds, in one paragraph in the last page of TFC and then we barely talk about Seth on TRK and TKM. Neil can't even understand how impactful was Seth's death - he only cares about how it will affect the game & his guilt is more about how Allison would feel towards him then sadness over losing a teammate - and this insight we get from Allison is from the extra content and not everyone goes on to read those so if Nora wanted something out of his death - pity, shock, sadness, or whatever - she should have put this scene IN THE BOOKS.

[crguang]

love language

Overworked and always putting themselves second, both Himeko and Natasha just need someone to help them relax after a tiring day <3

fluffy smut, sub!himeko, sub!natasha, gn!reader, oral sex, fingering, squirting (himeko), ~3k words for both

A/N: this was in the drafts for 2 months… finally polished it off enough to post it omg.

You’re cozy between warm sheets and fluffy pillows, the light of the cabin dimmed to help you relax as you read the last few sentences of the volume in your hands.

You’re entirely focused on the story’s conclusion until you reach the last words and blink out of the daze you’ve been in for the past… three hours? You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand, disbelievingly at first, then softly close the book. It’s past midnight, you hadn’t planned to finish it tonight and you’re surprised you managed to get through the end without getting interrupted. The day’s fatigue accumulates at the corner of your eyes. For a minute, you sit in the bed, simply taking in the book you just read. It left you somewhat unsatisfied, you’re not a fan of the protagonists walking different paths after spending most of the story working to reunite with each other. It reminds you of the Astral Express, of the bonds you’ve forged with the Nameless; the thought of one day separating from them saddens you. You know each of them have a road to follow but they’ve become family over the years, that also goes for Stelle, who’s the team’s newest addition.

As you reflect on your book, you realize— a little late— that you’re alone in the cabin. The spot beside you is untouched as it was this morning, not a crease on the clean pillows. You frown. Himeko must still be working on the train, even after telling you it wouldn’t be long and that she’d be ready for bed before you could finish another chapter. You don’t care about her not fulfilling her word, concern swells in your chest instead because it’s the third day this week where she’s slept past one in the morning, too preoccupied with making sure the Express runs smoothly. She easily forgoes rest to prioritize her work, and while you’re all grateful for her dedication, you wish she would not consider herself second best.

You lift the comforter off your body and step into your slippers. You stretch your arms over your head as you make your way to the door, softly sliding it open. The train car is quiet, only a low whirring sound can be heard from the archive room, the familiar noise relaxing you. The lights are dimmed, never completely shut in case of emergency. You walk down the corridor to reach the parlor. The door slides open and you hear soft murmurs of conversation as you step into the parlor, blinking a couple times to adjust to the bright lights. Himeko is seated on one of the large couches, discussing something with Pom-Pom, and doesn’t hear you come in. The conductor does since they’re facing you, but they only nod pensively at whatever Himeko is saying.

You cross your arms over your chest and wait, leaning on the wall. It gives you the chance to admire your pretty girlfriend; her coat is discarded somewhere on the train, leaving her shoulders bare, and from this angle you can pinpoint the few dispersed moles on her shoulder blades while the rest are hidden by her silky, red hair. Her face is bare of any makeup, long lashes brushing her cheeks with every blink and plump, pink lips you can’t help but stare at. You can almost smell her signature perfume if you concentrate long enough, it’s usually mixed with a strong coffee aroma to create a scent specific to her. Himeko is a refreshing sight no matter the hour of the day.

You don’t mind waiting for her to notice you, not wanting to interrupt her conversation. She eventually does when she gestures to the phonograph, eyes glossing over you for a second before she turns back to Pom-Pom, then head whirling back to you as she registers your presence in the room. Himeko smiles softly at you, waving in greeting, and you return it easily. You can’t really hear what they’re saying because of how low they’re talking, only snippets and words that make no sense out of context. After another minute where you assume the conversation is getting wrapped up, Himeko stands from the couch and bids the conductor goodnight. She walks over to you and reaches for your hand the moment she’s close enough, fingers lacing with yours.

“You’re still up?” Himeko asks, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing your skin.

“Mhm. I finished my book.”

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I had to fix a couple things, then Pom-Pom wanted to share their thoughts on something, I lost track of time. You shouldn’t have waited.”

Her free hand comes up to cup your cheek for an instant before lowering down your bicep. Himeko is always touching you in some way, whether it’s with a palm on your lower back or her fingertips tracing shapes into your forearm. She does it unconsciously, you noticed. It warms you to think that her body seeks yours out whenever you’re in the same room.

“It’s nothing,” you say, “I’m more concerned about you.”

“Me?”

“You’ve been sleeping later and later recently. Are you okay?”

Something gleams in Himeko’s eyes at the worry lacing your words. Her gaze softens like it often does when she looks at you and a small smile grows on her lips, squeezing your hand once.

“Of course. There’s always something to do on the Express, is all. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you.”

You see appreciation on her face. Himeko leans forward to press a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips. Her hand tugs you along as she opens the parlor door and begins to walk towards her cabin.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You let her lead you to her room. It’s in the same state you left it, but it feels warmer with her here. You settle onto the bed as Himeko rummages around for the gown she sleeps in and unashamedly take in the curves of her body as she undresses. She shoots you an amused look that has you smiling innocently, pulling the gown over her head and smoothing out her hair. She joins you, lays down against the pillows and wraps her arms around you to gently pull you into her. You inhale slowly into her neck. One hand strokes your hair and you sigh softly at the same time Himeko makes a noise of contentment. A comfortable silence stretches between you for a moment, broken only by the reassuring sound of the Express in the background. You sneak an arm around her waist to hold her tighter.

“I love having you like this…” Himeko murmurs with a slow exhale. “I look forward to it every night.”

You hum, nuzzling into her. Your reply is slightly muffled, “You do so much in a day. You deserve to feel this relaxed more often.”

“Sometimes I don’t know how you have the energy to deal with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Himeko sighs again, and her hand trails down your back in soothing motions. “You're so understanding with me, indulging me when I need it. You're always there, even when I don't know I need something, you give me the help I need. You don’t mind me working late so often; you have… so much patience for me.”

You pull away from her to look her in the eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. “Himeko, you’re the sweetest, most reliable person alive. How could I not be patient with you?”

She laughs quietly and cups your cheek. Her lidded eyes are full of affection as her thumb caresses your skin.

“You and your sweet words. It's hard not to believe them when you say them with such a sincere tone.”

“That’s because they’re true.”

Himeko brings you close with a hand on the back of your neck. Her lips meet yours in a tender kiss and your eyes shut in bliss at the feeling of her mouth moving against yours. She’s soft and warm and loving, keeping you in place until she’s had her fill and lets you lean back to catch your breath. You rest your foreheads together, noses brushing. Himeko’s hands travel up your body, from your hips to your waist and back down in steady touches, enjoying the feel of your curves. You plant gentle kisses on her jaw and almost feel her melt under you.

“You deserve every ounce of kindness…” your lips trail up to the apple of her cheek, “every show of appreciation…” you kiss her forehead then descend to the bridge of her nose; it scrunches up slightly with her growing smile, “and affection that comes your way.” You press another languid kiss to her lips.

Himeko’s gaze shows only adoration when you pull away to look at her, breathing a little heavier. Her lips are parted ever so slightly, her hands squeezing your waist. You swipe some hair out of her face as your palm rests on her cheek. Any fatigue you previously felt disappears at the sight of her under you like this, looking up at you with such admiration. It still feels a bit unreal, for someone so good to stare at you this way, it makes you believe that perhaps you too are deserving of others’ love.

You lean closer, the tip of your nose grazing hers, voice soft and eyes fluttering shut. “If you’re still in doubt, I could show you, if you’d like.”

Himeko’s smile turns teasing as your hand slips under her nightgown to slide up her knee. She pretends to think about it.

“Mmm… That depends on how you plan to do that.”

“Well, I have a few ideas… They all include you whimpering for me.”

Her chuckle makes you smile.

“Whimpering? You’re confident.”

“With reason, I assure you.”

Himeko welcomes your mouth on hers with enthusiasm, one of her hands curling around your nape. You’ve learned how to make her so dizzy with need that she’s entirely at your mercy, and it starts with the gentle swipe of your tongue over her bottom lip. Her lips part wider to deepen the kiss and you feel her fingers tighten their hold on your neck. Her tongue slides over yours, accustomed to your taste and still so breathless, while you rub her thigh. She hums low against your mouth as you try your best to adjust your position above her without breaking the kiss. Your thigh lodges itself between hers, feeling them clench once before relaxing into the bed.

Himeko is easy to please; loving touches up her torso to her chest makes her gasp softly, your tongue past her lips has her pulling you closer, and the slight pressure from your thigh between her legs is enough for her breathing to stutter. You kiss down her jaw to her neck and she tilts her head to make herself more accessible to your mouth. You know which spot makes her sigh in pleasure and which causes her to jerk her hips into your touch. You suck on her pulse point, humming at the fingers that tangle themselves in your hair at the gesture. The skin of her throat reddens and you lick it to soothe the pain before pulling away from her completely.

You sit up, gazing down at the flush of her cheeks and the rise of her chest. The square neckline of her nightgown gives you a tantalizing view of her cleavage. You bring a hand to touch the mole over her right breast, index finger massaging the flesh around it.

“So beautiful you are,” you say absentmindedly, pulling her clothes down with your free hand to watch how her breasts spill from their confines.

Himeko bites her lip in anticipation. The obvious desire in her gaze spurs you on, and you take handfuls of her heavy breasts to fondle them. The friction of your warm palms on her hardening nipples has her fingers sinking into the sheets. You twist a pink nipple between two fingers, delighting in the quiet moan that follows. Himeko’s breasts are so pliable, so plush, you can’t help lowering your mouth to one and sucking it like a pacifier. Her nipple puffs up under your wet tongue and you swallow a sound of pleasure at the feeling. Your teeth graze the soft skin of her breasts and leave faint marks across her chest everywhere they go. Her breasts shine with a thin coat of saliva when you finally separate yourself from them, and Himeko’s audibly breathing through her mouth, fingers curling around your locks. Her hips seek friction for her pussy by pressing into your thigh, but it’s not enough to relieve the need between her legs. Her nightgown has risen up to the top of her thighs, barely hiding her damp panties from sight.

You take in your work of art on her chest, the glisten of her puffy nipples and the shades of red on her skin slowly shifting into gorgeous blues and purples. Your thumb circles her sensitive bud as you watch Himeko’s brows quiver in pleasure. She won’t beg you for more, yet, even if what she needs is spelled out on her face.

You hook your fingers under the thin strap of her gown and let it snap against her skin as you let go. “Take it off, princess.”

Satisfaction swirls in your gut when she complies, sliding her arms out of the straps and pulling the material down her waist. You move to allow her to take it off completely and discard it somewhere on the bed, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. Your hands greedily travel up her thighs to her waist, squeezing the soft curves of her love handles along the way. Tiny moles decorate her body from her chest to her inner thigh like final touches on a meticulously painted artwork. Blood runs hot under her skin, adding a little color to the painting that she is. She’s stunning, and she’s yours.

You settle between her legs and prop her knees up to spread her thighs. Himeko grips your hair once more, her favorite, as you knead the flesh of her inner thighs.

“Seriously, Hime,” your eyes are glued to the damp patch on her cotton panties, arousal pooling in your belly, “the Knights of Beauty should be worshiping you.”

Himeko’s breathless laugh turns into a low moan when you use two fingers to rub her lower lips over her underwear, feeling her arousal ruin the material until it sticks to her pussy. You can see the outline of her labia under the fabric and you don’t even have it in you to tease her. Your index pulls her panties aside, revealing her glistening cunt and making you bite your bottom lip in lust. You lean forward to kiss around her labia. The smell of her arousal fills your sinuses and you feel desire tighten your stomach. Himeko urges you closer to her pussy with the hand in your hair, hips jerking towards your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick her leisurely, slithering between her folds and ignoring her twitching clit. You moan into her cunt at the taste of her and Himeko lets out a noise close to a whimper, bucking into you to feel more of your tongue on her pussy.

You quickly tire of keeping her panties at bay, so you waste no time in sliding them down her legs and tossing them on the floor. Her cunt is entirely exposed to you, slick dripping between her ass cheeks. She’s so wet, her clit stands at the ready, waiting for you to wrap your lips around it and suck. You spread her lips with two fingers and lower your mouth to her pussy, licking up her slit like a thirsty kitty.

“Mmngh…” Himeko makes the sweetest noises above you, from breathy moans to quiet whimpers as you work her up, eyes shut in pleasure. Her free hand grabs a fistful of the sheets under her. “Ah… Nnh…”

You tease her entrance with a finger, not quite sliding inside. Your tongue swirls around her aching clit, from base to tip, and you’re rewarded by a poorly restrained moan from your pretty girlfriend. Himeko’s thighs twitch as you lap her up but she finds the strength to keep them spread for you, instead gripping your hair a bit tighter to pull you towards her cunt. A finger tentatively pushes into her pussy to the knuckle and her hips stutter in their steady rocking at the welcomed intrusion. She gets used to the sensation quickly, brows twitching, and you curl the digit to hit a specific spot inside her, a drawn out moan escaping her.

“Nngh…” Himeko whimpers out your name, chest heaving, “m—more…”

You can’t refuse her when she sounds so fucking pretty. You harshly suck her clit, feeling it throb, and push another finger inside her clenching cunt. She squeezes your digits but takes them like a champ, allowing you to plunge deep into her to hit the spongy spot that makes her cry out. You look up at her as she grinds her pussy on the flat of your tongue, lost in pleasure. Her breasts move with every jerk of her hips, her lips are forever parted to let out soft mewls and her creamy skin glows under the lights from the sweat accumulating on her body. The wet sounds of your digits thrusting into her cunt are sinful, they fill the cabin along with Himeko’s barely contained moans. Her belly tightens with need, and she clenches around your fingers with another desperate whimper. You flick your tongue on her engorged clit a few times, drilling into her with a pace you know she likes, hard and fast. Slow, loving touches on her body will turn Himeko on like nothing else but when she gets like this, only thinking about her release, she needs it rough enough to push her over the edge. She meets your efforts halfway and grinds into you, swallowing your fingers further into her wet pussy.

You can tell how close she is by the pitch of her voice; it gets slightly higher with every passing minute you spend with your nose buried into her cunt.

“P–Please—” Himeko babbles, “Let me…”

You find it adorable how the last push she needs is often just the confirmation that she’s allowed to come.

“Come for me, princess.”

Himeko whines, squeezing your fingers tight as she gushes into your mouth. Her cum coats your lips and chin and you lap it up eagerly, moaning at the taste. You clean her up diligently while her thighs threaten to close around your head and her clit throbs with her orgasm. She comes on your tongue with a pretty noise of pleasure and you ease your fingers out of her fluttering pussy to keep her thighs pinned to the mattress. You lick up her slit once, twice, desperate to swallow more of her cum. Himeko inhales sharply when your tongue flicks over her sensitive clit. You know her body inside and out, and so you know that sucking her clit right after an orgasm will make her squirt like she is now, spurts of cum coating your face and her needy cries filling your ears. She makes a mess for you, ruining the sheets under her, until she can’t take it anymore and has to pull you away from her cunt by the hair so she can catch her breath.

You relent, swiping your tongue over your lips and looking up at her with a cocky smirk. Himeko struggles to regulate her breathing, chest heaving and limbs still twitching from the aftershocks. You hover over her to press a gentle kiss to her jaw.

“We really should relax this way more often.”

“You work yourself too hard.”

Your warm, muttered words send a shiver across the skin of Natasha’s nape and the sensation spreads down her back as would a chilling gust of wind, the kind that only appears during Belobog’s most forgiving winters. It leaves goosebumps in its wake that you chase away with the palm of your hands firmly pressing over her shoulder blades, tracing the protruding bones lower down her back before slowly bringing your hands to rest on her shoulders. You hear her soft sigh as you massage her skin and undo knots of long accumulated stress from her muscles. You’re sure her eyes are closed despite being unable to see her.

“I have to,” she replies, her voice just as low, like speaking any louder will disturb the quiet around you.

Your hands run down her arms at an unhurried pace. You love touching her, love the feel of her. It’s a beautiful thing, touch; the warmth of her merging with yours, the particular bumps and wrinkles and stretch marks unique to her can all be felt under your fingertips. You have discovered every crevice, every nook and cranny of her with only your hands. On nights like this one, when the pressure catches up to her, she’s pliable under your touch and all the more enchanting. You bury your nose where her neck meets her shoulder, inhale the scent of the perfumed soap she used in the bath an hour earlier and lace your fingers with hers when your hands end their trek on the sensitive surface of her wrists.

You feel her lean into you a little more when you speak, “One day soon, you’ll be able to take a break without the sky collapsing.”

It’s unfair, though you understand how much the Underworld needs Natasha. She stepped forward when no one else did and naturally took over the responsibility for its citizens’ wellbeing, she is without a doubt an integral part of the small society you built around the mines. She bears this burden with a humble heart and a tired smile. The pride you feel for her goes beyond the Underworld’s dark ceilings, maybe even beyond the white clouds she sometimes tells you about when you question her about the surface. She is a diamond amongst pebbles, wasting her time on even the most worthless of you because she believes that everyone deserves a fighting chance. Her selflessness knows no bounds, and you feel sad. The bags under her eyes get darker every morning. Sleep claims her the minute her pretty hair touches the pillows. You wish she would allow herself some reprieve but Natasha has no self-serving bone in her body. She can’t be selfish, so you have to, lest she gets buried under unreasonable demands and complaints. With the appointment of a new Supreme Guardian, however, and the channels between the two worlds open once again, things are looking brighter. The fragmentum has stopped spreading and for once, you see a glint of hope in the gazes of the Underworlders. The Supreme Guardian’s plans for a painless future lift some of that persistent weight off Natasha’s shoulders. You’re grateful for it.

“I think part of me won’t know what to do when the time does come,” Natasha admits. She brings your arms tighter around her frame and sighs. “I can’t imagine not being needed…”

“People will always need you. You just won’t have the pressure to uphold half a city from the brink of disaster. You deserve that.”

She doesn’t reply to that. You free one hand and lift your head, then delicately grab a hold of her jaw to tilt her face towards yours. Her eyes blink open and you see the fatigue incrusted into their rubied depths.

“You deserve that,” you repeat firmly, watching as her gaze grows softer. “You of all people deserve to be free of anxiety and responsibility. I’ll make you see it one day, too.” Your thumb trails up her chin to her bottom lip. “Until then, I’ll take care of you when you won’t.”

Her lip twitches and her eyelashes flutter, taken with sudden emotion, before she simply leans closer and captures your mouth with hers, an unsaid “thank you” dying in her throat. The hand still intertwined with yours squeezes gently as she kisses you. It keeps you grounded to her presence in your arms and her touch on your body. You taste her chapstick on your tongue when she opens her mouth further to deepen the kiss. It’s the same she wears every day but it’s no less intoxicating.

“Nat…” you murmur against her lips, “I want to help you relax, if only for tonight.”

You hear her intake of breath as you plant open kisses up and down her jaw, following invisible patterns of affection on her skin like carefully woven threads. Natasha nods softly when your lips reach hers once more and the happy smile that grows on your face fills her with warmth even the bulkiest coats couldn’t provide.

She lets you adjust yourself behind her. You guide her to lean back so your chest is flushed against her and her breath tickles your neck.

Your hands brush the sides of her chest over her shirt and curl to hold her breasts properly. Natasha sucks in a breath when you squeeze them a little; you know she’s always been sensitive there, how pleasant it is for her. You palm her flesh, enjoying the softness of it beneath your hands and its quickly hardening tips. Your thumb swipes over one nipple and feels it grow from the sensation. You give the other the same attention and it’s not long before your pointer fingers join the fun to gently pinch the doctor’s nipples. Natasha shifts slightly, bringing one leg up to squeeze her thighs together, and you almost huff out a laugh at the action. You can feel the embarrassment radiating off of her at how easily aroused she’s getting, so you decide not to tease her too much. Verbally, at least, because your hands aren’t leaving her breasts until her underwear is well and truly ruined.

A muffled noise of pleasure escapes Natasha when you twist her nipples just right between two fingers. Her lips are parted and her breathing has gotten heavier. She grabs your thigh with a hand to compose herself somewhat. Though her face is obscured from your sight, you know her eyes are squeezed shut as she allows herself to enjoy your attention.

“Ah…” She breathes out as you finally slip your hands under her shirt and caress the plane of her stomach. Goosebumps follow wherever your touch strays.

Her nipples are like pretty pebbles on her chest, a rosy color you can’t yet see. They’re hard and sensitive judging by the way Natasha squeezes her legs together every so often, and you can’t help the fondness you feel at her compliance. She’s aroused and ready for you to go further, but she takes what you give without complaint or plea. It makes you want to give her everything she needs, patience be damned. You bite your lip at the thought. Tonight is all about Natasha’s pleasure, after all.

Keeping one hand around her breast, you trail the other down her torso until it reaches the edge of her pajama pants. Her thighs spread almost immediately to accommodate you and you coo softly at the sight, breathing out a chuckle when you feel Natasha press further into your neck out of embarrassment.

“Don’t worry,” you say, slipping into her pants to brush her underwear, “I’ll take good care of you.”

“…I know,” she replies, voice soft.

The trust she willingly puts in you is heartwarming, it expands your chest cavity to make place for your inflating heart. You explore her covered sex with two fingers and feel the arousal seeping from the thin cloth. She always gets so wet from nipple stimulation… Cute. Natasha moans when you spread her lips and apply pressure to her clit. You long to feel it twitch under your tongue, but you’ve teased her enough for now. Your hand slithers past her panties to finally give her what she wants. Natasha’s moans are breathy “oh”’s and “ah”’s that she no longer tries to conceal. Your fingers smear her arousal all over her cunt before paying special attention to her puffy clit. Sensitive as it feels, you enjoy the way her thighs twitch as you massage its base while pinching her nipple. The added stimulation coats your hand in warm, sticky fluids.

“Ah! Please…” Natasha mutters with a swallow, grip tightening on your thigh.

You shush her nicely, swiping the pad of your index finger over her clit in firm circles. “I know, Nat. Just relax.”

You imagine her brows twisting in pleasure and her pretty lips trembling. Her chest heaves with uncontrolled breaths and you have half a mind to yank her shirt over her head so you can see her perky nipples rise and fall with the flow.

You give her clit some reprieve and ignore the immediate little whine of indignation that follows. She’s so wet as you trail down her cunt to her entrance that you decide to push two fingers inside her instead of one. You feel her cunt clench around your digits and bite back a groan as you rub her walls. Natasha moans your name, voice breaking in the middle, and her toes curl when you pick up the pace inside her. She’s a vocal mess despite not uttering any actual words. Her panting against your neck is so arousing you only plunge your fingers harder into her.

You twist and pull her nipple with your other hand. Natasha somehow restrains herself from squirming under your touch to make your job easier and you make a mental note of rewarding her for her consideration.

“Just like that,” you encourage her, her cunt squeezing you like a vice. “I’ve got you.”

Your only response is a small whine and the bucking of her hips against your hand. They move in tandem with the rhythm of your fingers, greedily chasing release.

“You’re doing so good, Natty, letting me help you like this…”

Your words make her cunt clench. The noises filling your bedroom are positively filthy as the heel of your palm grazes Natasha’s sensitive clit. She’s close, you can feel it, so you keep up the pace until she comes with a cry into your neck, teeth brushing your skin and hips stuttering. You slow down inside her only slightly to help prolong her orgasm and one of her hands grabs yours on her breast when she arches towards the ceiling. It takes a moment before Natasha settles back against you, breathy and slack. You gently slip out of her.

You let her catch her breath, instead bringing your hand to light to see how her arousal clings to your digits. Spreading them makes a string that connects the two and you hum before turning back to Natasha. You push her forward a little, enough to be able to capture her mouth in a sloppy kiss. Your tongue pushes past her lips to intertwine with hers.

Natasha pulls away to rest her forehead on yours.

“Thank you…” she says softly.

“You’re welcome. But I’m not done with you yet.”

She leans back to look you in the eyes and her incredulous expression makes you laugh.

“You’ve done more than enough. Let me at least—”

“Nuh uh,” you interrupt her, moving from behind her to saddle her waist. She makes a noise of surprise when you push her fully into the bed.

You steal a kiss from her as your hands travel up her torso to raise her shirt over head and toss it to the floor. Leaning back, you can finally appreciate the sight of her bare chest rising to meet you. You take a pink nipple into your mouth, humming in satisfaction when Natasha lets out a little moan. Her hands grip your hair to keep you close. Your tongue swirls around the hardened bud, coating it so it shines in the light when you pull away. You waste no time in sucking the other one, hard and fast, enjoying the feel of it in your mouth and Natasha’s growing pleasure.

Your own lips shine with saliva when you tear your mouth from her chest and look up at her in reverence.

“You’re so pretty, Nat,” her lidded gaze meets yours as you speak, blood rushing to her cheeks. “I wanna fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“Oh…” is all she can say, bringing one hand to partly cover her flushing face.

“But,” you move to take off her pajama pants completely before settling between her thighs and wrapping your arms around them, “I said I’d help you relax, not incapacitate you… I’ll choose my words more carefully next time.”

Her heel digs into your back when you bury your nose in her slick cunt. She’s intoxicating and still so sensitive from her previous orgasm that you only need to blow on her clit for it to twitch. Your tongue darts out to taste her fully, the flat of it licking up her slit to take her pulsing clit into your mouth. Natasha’s hips push against you even as her thighs shake from the stimulation and the hand in your hair pulls you closer to her slippery sex. All you can hear, feel, taste is her. The noises she makes are a melody to your ears and the warmth that overcomes you can’t be put into words. You trail wet kisses all over her cunt, groaning at the way it pulses under you.

You focus on her clit, sucking and licking and teasing until her thighs close in on you, pressing against your ears.

“F-Fuck…”

Natasha rarely swears. Knowing how much of a mess you’re making of her for her to utter such a word is such a turn on. You squeeze your legs together in a failed attempt at relieving the pressure between them. You want tonight to be all about her, so you ignore your needs and slurp her folds like a starved kitten. The tip of your nose bumps her clit as you do and Natasha’s soft mewls spur you on.

It doesn’t take long before she’s coming into your mouth with a long moan, hips bucking closer to your tongue. You lap up the arousal leaking from her puffy cunt and let her grind into your face until her orgasm passes. Natasha falls back into the bed after a moment, audibly panting, eyes still squeezed shut. You look up to see her features slowly morph into a tired, fucked out expression. Pulling away from her sex, you lick your lips and wipe your face with your clean hand.

You climb up the bed to press a tender kiss to her jaw. Her eyes blink open, her gaze warm and in love as she looks at you.

You cup her cheek with a hand and mutter, “I hate to ask more of you, but promise me you’ll make an effort to take better care of yourself. For me?”

Natasha sighs, lips stretching into a small smile. “If I can’t, you’ll be there to do it for me?”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

[highhhfiveee]

safety net

pairing: pornstar!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: y/n has a bad date. mike just so happens to be there to catch her. wc: 2.3k tags: fluff? angst? just exposition really. no mentions of porn or sex here! just mike being a hero and reader appreciating him errors in here as usual!

part two: 💸

you didn't really do dating.

you'd tried so many times before to no avail. things would start nicely, people making your laugh float into the air and your heart flutter, but it never got past that. anytime you start to think about these things seriously, the other party pulls away. you're always left in the dust, responsible for picking up the pieces of your heart, gluing them back together, and trying again.

it's exhausting and after your last failure, you're not sure you want to try again.

one chance encounter on a dating app changes your mind. you think it's so foolish how easily you fall into it, giggling and kicking your feet at yet another potential partner, but when your first date is coordinated successfully and the second and the third, you begin to feel safe enough to indulge.

for your fourth date, you've arrived at this fancy restaurant in the middle of the city. you're super done up, wearing a dress that you love but have to return in the morning and your tallest pair of heels. your hair is swept up just the way simon, your date, likes it. you never liked it this way, but he calls you "so beautiful" when he sees you like this, and it makes your blood rush in your ears so you wear it up any time you're around him.

simon was nice, but you didn't have much in common; he was a straight-edge tech guy. he went to bed at 10 every night and woke up at 6 every morning, planning his days out in five-minute increments (he'd excitedly showed you his planner and you had to pretend that you were very very interested 💔).

you, on the other hand, woke up at noon on days you didn't have to work, going to bed at 4 am the night before. you never knew what to do and your apartment was covered in sticky notes donning different tasks: "read book". "wash dishes". "mail off package".

you two managed nice, small talk-ish conversation and he made you feel pretty. the only thing you two had in common was your love for coffee.

you're seated at your table and all goes well up until you receive the check, although you're a little bored. you're picking at your dessert and wondering if the art on the walls is real as simon opens the billbook and slides a card in there.

"i have to go to the bathroom. be right back," he stands, craning his head down to place a kiss on your cheek, and then you're alone, finally tuning into the din of the restaurant. it's busier than you realized.

your waitress takes your bill and leaves to tender you out. simon is still using the bathroom, and at first, it's not worrying. you wouldn't be surprised if he got lost on the way there, but after ten minutes, you start to worry.

the waitress returns to your table and you think you're fine to leave, but she sets the billbook on the table, stating, "did you have another form of payment? it said this card was expired."

you shake your head, anxiously blinking your eyes. "expired?" you open the book to see the $400 total at the bottom of your receipt and simon's card tucked behind the plastic pouch. you take it out and inspect the expiration date. three years gone.

"i--i, uh," you begin to panic. you had no idea what to do. you didn't have $400 in your bank account, $405.72 less than that actually. you didn't have anyone to call to spot you; what normal person had a casual $400 to throw at a friend for dinner? if you called your mom, she would laugh over the receiver the whole time, hanging up on you.

the waitress is staring at you, expectantly, but you can't even meet her gaze. in your alarm, you scanned your eyes around the restaurant and caught simon, in his very noticeable purple suit jacket, speed-walking towards the entrance of the restaurant.

you shoot to your feet, taking off your heels, wrangling up your other belongings and dashing after him.

you hear the waitress shout, "ma'am!" behind you but there's no stopping you. what are you gonna do, pay for the meal?

you're pushing yourself in between other patrons, forgetting your manners. you're hyperfocused on simon, keeping track of his head bobbing through the throng of people.

he's made it outside just a little before you, using a brisk pace to walk down the sidewalk.

"simon!" you yell, watching him speed up a bit until he's a phantom around the corner. "simon!!!"

there are some stragglers outside, just a few eyes on the frantic girl holding her heels and screaming. you're sure they think you're drunk, but you don't care.

you scream simon's name one more time. it's shrill and blood-curdling and something you'd never expect to come out of you. you didn't get upset like this, and you know you're truly upset when you feel a tear hit your arm.

you rarely cried, but here you were, breaking down on the sidewalk outside one of the most expensive restaurants in the state. you take a despondent seat on a bench, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. you take your hair down childishly, and the thought of simon liking it sends you back into tears.

you're a blubbering, snot-covered mess when mike sees you. he's exiting the restaurant, asking for his car from valet when he notices you on the bench, staring blankly into the air.

you're beautiful, and he's unsure as to why you're sitting here in tears. no one else decides to check on you. he takes the initiative.

his hand reaches out to your shoulder and it makes you jump, shouting at him to back away from you. he holds up his hands, muttering, "hey, hey. i'm sorry, i don't want to hurt you. i just wanted to ask if you were okay."

you don't expect the voice that comes out of him. its suburban, syrupy tone doesn't quite match his look; his hair is freshly cut and it feels like there's not a single wrinkle in any of his clothes. they look quality, and expensive. the rings adorning most of his fingers give off the same vibe.

great. one of these guys.

"i'm fine," you snap, wiping at your congested nose with the back of your hand. "i don't need saving, especially not from a nice guy like you."

mike laughs, and you're embarrassed to admit to yourself that you like how it sounds.

"who said i was a nice guy? i just asked if you were okay." you shrink away, avoiding his eyes.

"it's not my fault that you give that off. sounds like a you problem."

mike doesn't stop talking to you, which is surprising. even with all the disrespect, he sits beside you and rummages along the inside of his jacket for something to give you.

you don't admit it, but you're thankful for the small plastic package of tissues. "everyone has problems. there seems to be one plaguing you right now," he leans into your shoulder, eyeing you intently. "wanna tell me what it is?"

you're still cleaning yourself up, taking another tissue out to wipe at your ruined makeup when the waitress marches out of the restaurant with two burly security guards behind her. she points to you with zeal, announcing, "that's her."

the security guards make their way over to you, disregarding mike as he asks, "woah, woah, what's going on?"

"this young lady tried to skip out on her bill." you shake your head irritably, standing to your feet. you're not even half the height of these dudes.

"i didn't, my date did. he put an expired card down to pay and then used the bathroom excuse to get out of it." mike shakes his head. in what world would someone try to escape a date with you?

"makes sense, but you still have to pay for the meal."

"how the fuck am i supposed to do that?" you screech, crossing your arms over your chest. "i don't have any money. i have to return this stupid fucking dress in the morning just so i can pay my rent."

the dress is nice. it's a black satin maxi dress with thin straps and a slit up the side. it's fairly simple, but mike can't deny how well it fits you, and how good you look in it.

"i don't know what you're going to do, but you better do something or we're going to have to call the police."

"fucking call them! i don't care," you retort, and so begins your back and forth with the security personnel.

"you don't care?"

"no."

"are you an idiot? you just don't care?"

"okay, one, i'm not an idiot and two, i really don't. this whole situation is fucking stupid. i can't pay the bill, okay? i don't know what to tell you."

"my mom always said that as a female, you should never be broke. maybe it's time for you to stand on that corner right there in that pretty dress and sell your---" the man is cut off by a sharp "hey, watch yourself. i'll fucking kill you." from mike. he steps to the security guards, who retreat a little when they realize he's not joking.

you don't know this man, not even his name, but he asked you if you were okay then and now, he's standing up for you, even after you accused him of being a nice guy. you make a mental note to apologize to him after all of this.

"i'll pay the fucking bill. how much is it?"

"it's $400, mr. schmidt," the waitress says, her face awash with red. Last name basis? How often did he come to this expensive ass restaurant?

mike looks at you and then back to the waitress, saying, "charge it to my tab. tip the bill." The waitress nods excitedly, echoing, "thank you, thank you, thank you" as she scurries back inside with the security guards. They give mike dirty looks the entire way back, giving up just before disappearing into oblivion.

mike faces you. He's a little disheveled in the eyes, the irritation he holds inside written all over his face. somehow, even his scowl is attractive.

you rub your hands over your goosebumped arms, the chill in the air wildly apparent. mike is instantly shrugging his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders, giving you a friendly smile. it's warm inside, and smells like the expensive department store colognes you snuck samples of as a kid. for some reason, you feel at ease.

"i'm sorry about your date. he sounds like a dickhead."

"yeah," you agree, biting at your cracked bottom lip. "i guess it's my fault. i really shouldn't have trusted a guy who planned his day by fives."

"hours?"

"minutes."

mike sucks air between his teeth, cringing at your words. "he sounds like a psychopath."

"maybe he was," you hum, using the lapels of mike's coat to pull it tighter around you. "dodged bullet."

"dodged bullet," he repeats, smirking down at you. his hazel eyes sparkle. you don't know why you feel so... positively unnerved yet tranquil in his presence. who was this man?

"mr. schmidt?" a valet worker in all white exits an expensive-looking, deep gray sports car. the interior looks like a spaceship, and you can't help but crane your neck a little further to get a better look.

you're not paying attention as the worker drops the keys into mike's hand and mike hands him a hundred-dollar bill he fished from his pocket. you're just focused on the car, wondering a million things. how much was it? how was its gas mileage? did it take premium gas or something more?

"do you need a ride home?" mike holds the keys up, jangling them in front of your face. you connect the dots and let out a loud belly laugh, completely blindsided.

"this is your car?"

"i...think so?" he teases, watching the happiness fall from your face. a ride home. why would you want to go home to be alone, once again collecting the jagged pieces of your broken heart from the floor?

mike instantly stiffens. "that was a joke," he clarifies, but you dismiss it with a raise of your hand.

"no no, it was fine, funny even. i just...i don't want to go home right now."

"do you want to come back to mine?" mike doesn't know if it's too forward, but it doesn't hurt to try. you needed company, and nothing would ever compel him to leave you here after everything. he catches the way your face twitches and raises his hands in defense again. "no funny business, i promise. just so you're safe, and not alone tonight."

you don't think over it very long. you'd been to plenty of strangers' houses, and this was only one night. you were sure you could trust this man. after your date from hell and nearly going to jail, what was the harm?

"okay, i'll come. thank you," you muse as mike leads you to the passenger side of his car. he opens the door for you, and you crane your head to him before you sit down. you're so close you can see the flecks in his hazel eyes, the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, every single individual hair that peppers his jaw and mouth. it makes you forget your name.

"i'm y/n, by the way." he nods and smiles at you, wide and bright. suddenly, your legs feel like noodles.

"nice to meet you, y/n. i'm mike."

"mike," you repeat as you lower yourself into his car. "mike."

who knew where this would lead you?

been up all night writing this ayyeeeee, i write SO MUCH! going to work on writing blurbs, i promiseeeeeee. also this is very cute. i'm excited to delve into their story because it will be mostly pwp (for ficlets and blurbs) but definitely more structured for longer fics. can't wait to see where it goes!

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Eventual smut in future chapters (not this one though sorry), language, sexual themes, homophobia (kind of but it's received by reader as banter)

Summary: It's your seventh year at Hogwarts and you've finally been made Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain. This year is going to be your year... if you can make it through your N.E.W.Ts without being distracted by your new Potions partner.

A/N: The content nobody asked for. But I am begging the Freddie Stroma stans to give Cormac McLaggen a chance. I PROMISE I CAN FIX HIM!!!! Reader is a bisexual 'not like other girls' type of girl but she becomes more bearable as the story goes on. Reader and McLaggen are both 18. Also I just want to say that I fucking hate JK Rowling and will be gleefully bastardising her work.

Masterlist

Chapter 1: Amortentia

Breakfast on the second day of term was a much more rushed experience than it had been in previous years- you barely had time to collect your timetables from Professor Flitwick, never mind eat anything. You hardly noticed the cool September sun streaming through the ceiling of the Great Hall. Gazing wistfully at the breakfast table, you listened while Flitwick reminded you of the importance of your seventh year at Hogwarts.

Marietta was taking much longer than usual to get ready these days, and so, you, her and Cho had left Ravenclaw Tower late. Ever since that Hermione Granger had cursed her, Marietta had been applying a thick layer of makeup to hide the pimples spelling ‘sneak’ across her face and you resented Granger for upsetting your dormmate- especially when that dormmate’s new skincare routine just made you miss your favourite meal of the day.

“What do you think Slughorn will be like?” asks Cho, as the three of you stand at the back of the short queue outside the Potions classroom- your first lesson of the year.

“Seems like a bit of a creep,” you shrug. “Didn’t you hear about his Slug Club? Nonce behaviour if you ask me.”

Cho chuckles half-heartedly while Marietta only deigns to give you a scandalised look. Alicia would have found it funny, you think to yourself, a knife twisting in your stomach when you’re reminded of her. 

Cho and Marietta were the closest friends you had at Hogwarts now that Alicia Spinnett had graduated and then unceremoniously dumped you immediately afterwards. Your sense of humour was a little too crude for Cho and Marietta, and this combined with your general disinterest in giggling and gossiping about the boys at Hogwarts made you the third wheel of the group.

The queue starts moving and you file into the dungeon past a cauldron, filled to the brim with what you quickly recognise from your textbook as Amortentia. The powerful love potion is supposed to smell different to each person, depending on what attracts them and you’ve always wondered what it would smell like to you. The three of you step forward - you inhale and it smells simultaneously like the leather of new Quidditch keeper gloves, buttery toast and a spicy amber and jasmine scent that you only vaguely recognise.

The class is considerably smaller than it was last year after several students found Snape’s demands of N.E.W.T level students to be too much and dropped out. Cho and Marietta, predictably sit at a table together leaving you to sit at the desk behind them next to… ugh, Cormac McLaggen. You suppose that you don’t hate McLaggen but you’ve always found him to be a typical Gryffindor- arrogant and entitled. 

You give each other a silent nod in recognition as you walk towards him. McLaggen reluctantly moves his book bag from the chair beside him as if it’s inconveniencing him to put his belongings on the floor - entitled. You sit down and have to shuffle your chair away several inches from him because his stupidly broad shoulders take up so much space. Even from the very back of the classroom, the sweet and spicy fragrance of Amortentia reaches your nostrils.

Professor Slughorn opens his arms. “Welcome, seventh-years, to the most important year of all at Hogwarts. Your N.E.W.T.s will take place in just a few short months.” You fidget with your silver cutting knife impatiently- you’ve already heard this speech. Slughorn walks over to his cauldron and continues “Today we’re going to be making something that regularly comes up in your practical exam: Amortentia. Can anyone-”

You practically hear the whoosh of four hands shooting up in the air, the Ravenclaws already desperate to prove their potions prowess to the new teacher. You roll your eyes and catch McLaggen doing the same. Ugh, you don’t want to be associated with McLaggen, who doesn’t even feel like he has to try to impress Slughorn - arrogant - so you lift your hand listlessly in the air.

“My, my!” guffaws Slughorn, observing the eager students around the room. “I see we’ve all had our breakfast today!” Your stomach grumbles. “Can anyone tell me what Amortentia is?” Your half-hearted hand seems to draw his attention more than the keen, upright ones. He points at you.

“It’s the world’s most dangerous love potion, Sir.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh-ho! An interesting choice of words. Would you care to elaborate?”

“It causes intense feelings of infatuation, to the point of obsession. I think it should be made illegal.”

“Here we go,” mutters McLaggen and you feel the tension in the class as they brace themselves. You’re reminded by their reaction that your tendency to be hot-headed was the final straw in your breakup with Alicia. So instead, you take a deep breath and give a more measured answer than you had originally intended.

“MACUSA made Amortenia a controlled substance in 1922 and I think the Ministry of Magic should follow suit. The use of any love potion on a non-consenting person, but especially one as strong as Amortentia, is unethical, to say the least.”

Some of your fellow students shift uncomfortably. If the rumours are to be believed, many of them have used love potions before but you hold your tongue.

“I say!” says Slughorn, looking pleased with the mild discourse you’ve caused, livening up his early morning lesson. “Very well-reasoned of you. And I assume, by your impassioned stance, that it’s your desire to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when you leave Hogwarts?”

“Er…” You hesitate, anticipating the usually negative reaction your answer gets you. “Not really. Well, maybe if I can’t play Quidditch. Professionally.”

“Well, you may end up a tad over-qualified - there aren’t many professional Quidditch players with an N.E.W.T. in Potions, I can tell you that! But take a well-earned point for Ravenclaw for your answer.” He smiles genially. “Convictions aside, we will be brewing this very love potion today. And while they’re not illegal, they are banned at Hogwarts so I’ll be ensuring that you’ve vanished your potions at the end of class.”

Professor Slughorn instructs you all to find the page on Amortentia in ‘Advanced Potion Making’ and to start brewing the potion. It’s one the most delicate potion recipes you’ve ever come across- even compared to the other N.E.W.T. level potions you made last year. 

Your cauldron needs to be as hot as possible so you set the fire underneath it and get to work, furrowing your brow and reading the steps outlined in your textbook. You add rose petals to your pestle and mortar and start grinding them into a paste.

“So, what did you smell when you walked past?” McLaggen nods to the front of the room. “The Gryffindor girls’ dorm?”

“Yeah, right, what did you smell? The seat of Harry Potter’s broomstick? Because sticking your nose there is the only way you’ll actually make the team this year.”

He laughs. “I don’t know, I fancy my chances now that a few of the old stalwarts have left. What’s Alicia up to these days, anyway?” He asks, not unpleasantly but your jaw clenches all the same as you grind your rose petals.

“We broke up at the start of summer.”

“Ah well, I’ll put a word in with Katie Bell for you when I join the team. I know how much you like those Gryffindor chasers.”

“Fuck off, McLaggen.” You realise you’ve been mashing your rose petals a bit too hard and they’ve turned to slop. Shit.

“Alright, just a joke.”

“Yeah, well don’t bother.” 

While your breakup isn’t fresh, you’re in no mood to talk about Alicia. Minutes pass as both of you stand side by side, stirring your cauldrons anti-clockwise. Your arm aches and your brow begins to sweat from the heat of the cauldron as you count to one hundred and eleven- the correct number of times you’re supposed to stir it according to ‘Advanced Potion Making’.

You stop stirring and drop a moonstone into your potion. The sweet and spicy smell coming from McLaggen’s direction is already much stronger than yours even though you’re a step further ahead of him. You peer interestedly over at his cauldron just as he holds a stone over it, ready to drop it in but your hand flies out to catch it before it can hit the liquid.

“Woah, what-?”

“That’s quartz- not moonstone,” you tut, tossing the quartz on his table.

“Shit, thanks. Good catch- you could be a seeker.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He smirks in agreement as he chucks a moonstone into his cauldron.

“So, how’s your team looking this year?” He asks, breaking the silence as you wait for your potions to start bubbling, watching for the steam to start rising in characteristic spirals. 

“Not bad. Most of last year’s squad is still here, including Cho obviously. I just need a new Chaser to replace Davies.” The heady smell is almost overpowering now as you both lean against the table. You start chopping peppermint leaves and he does the same. “I’ve booked the pitch for try-outs this Saturday. When are Gryffindor’s?”

“No word yet. Potter’s not as organised as you.”

“Well, let me know and I might pop down to watch you embarrass yourself.” 

He laughs and scrapes his leaves into his cauldron with the edge of his knife.

“I’m hoping to catch him at Slughorn’s dinner party, see if I can butter him up a little.”

“Right, Slug Club,” you say derisively. Honestly, you’d have more respect for Potter if he made his useless friend Gryffindor keeper rather than choosing McLaggen because they’re both in Slughorn’s clique for the Howarts elite. 

You tip in your leaves and stir your cauldron counter-clockwise, waiting for the liquid to turn from sage green to pearlescent milky white. McLaggen quickly grabs your arm, his large hand encircling the entire circumference of your forearm. 

“Clockwise!” He urges, releasing you so you can start stirring in the opposite direction. 

“Fuck!” Making stupid mistakes in Potions is thus far unmarked territory for you. You’re not used to having a Potions partner who distracts you. You watch your potion as you frantically stir the other way, praying that it turns its signature mother-of-pearl sheen. It stays adamantly green.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice- I should have stopped you quicker.”

“And time’s up!” says Slughorn, clapping his hands together. 

You look up at McLaggen and he’s looking back at you apprehensively as if you might go off on one- your fiery reputation predecdes you. You take a deep breath and your nostrils fill with the amber and jasmine scent, making you instantly feel calmer. “It’s fine. My mistake. Besides, we can’t all have my reflexes.”

Slughorn walks around the room inspecting the potions and providing feedback. You feel a twinge of resentment when you see that McLaggen’s looks almost identical to the example potion.

Slughorn looks in your cauldron and gives you a small nod. “A decent effort but that should have been clockwise stirring in the final step, my dear.” You purse your lips and give him a curt jerk of the head in acknowledgement.

He positively beams when he turns to look in McLaggen’s cauldron. “Ah, excellent, excellent Cormac m’boy!” coos Slughorn, reaching up and gripping McLaggen’s shoulder congratulatorily. He gestures to the rest of the class to come over and see McLaggen’s cauldron. “Now, this is what we’re looking for. A textbook example. One drop and I daresay we’d all be besotted with you.” McLaggen looks at you intently, you suppose he’s feeling guilty for accepting Slughorn’s praise without giving you any credit. “Class dismissed. Cormac, take five points for Gryffindor and I’ll see you on Thursday night for our little get-together.”

“Yes, sir.”

You quickly vanish your potion, shove your belongings into your bookbag, and leave the classroom to catch up with Cho and Marietta in the corridor. The three of you start making your way upstairs through the throng of students to your next class but you hear a voice calling from behind you.

“Hey!” A heavy hand clasps your shoulder and you spin around. “Thanks for saving me in there,” says McLaggen. 

“Anytime,” you say, in what you hope is a casual, and not annoyed tone.

In the busy corridor, someone bumps into the heavy bag on your shoulder, knocking you off balance. McLaggen catches you before you fall, holding you tightly against him and you’re overpowered by the scent of amber and jasmine again. He helps you stand back upright and places a hand on each of your shoulders to steady you. You blink up at him, stunned, meeting his green eyes.

“There. We’re even.” He grins. “My reflexes aren’t that bad after all. Anyway, see you later.” He slaps you on the back in a sporting kind of way and heads off in the opposite direction. 

“Are you okay?” asks Cho as you stare after him, speechless, watching his broad figure, head and shoulders above most of the crowd, as he walks away. You feel your heart pounding in your chest.

He smells like Amortentia.  Or, says a small voice in your head, Amortentia smells like him.

Chapter 2: Confundo

[burningexeter]

Not much is known about her but in one of the few, if not the only interview that she ever did, here's all the interesting information and trivia on Meagan Smith, the voice of Gwen Tennyson in the original Ben 10 series. Let's see how this goes:

• The reason why she isn't as prolific as other actresses is because she prefers to not be out in the open and instead have a private life to herself but would love it if there was somehow a Ben 10 con where fans could gather and she'd be there in a heartbeat.

• She admits that she isn't a fan of Omniverse, just flat-out saying that "as far as I'm concerned, Ben 10: Omniverse isn't canon in my book. It should've ended at Ultimate".

• She also voiced her dissatisfaction with how Destroy All Aliens and its short Road Trip Rumble turned out, saying that the only reason she came back was because she loved voicing Gwen and jumped at the chance to reprise the role but thought that the scripts were "poor" and took issue with the mean-spirited tones, handling of characters and adding nothing to the series overall. Smith did however give praise to the animation.

• On a much more positive note, she did praise both Alien Force AND Ultimate Alien for how they handled and developed Gwen and said that Ashley Johnson did an "awesome job" in the role. The only issue she has is the Anodite retcon, thinking Gwen should've been a sorceress since her learning magic is made less special now but overall, was more than satisfied with the portrayal of Gwen.

• Her favorite movies in no particular order are The Nightmare Before Christmas, Crimson Peak, Ghostbusters, ParaNorman and The Wild Bunch.

• Her favorite TV shows however in no particular order as well are Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Spectacular Spider-Man, The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air, Family Matters and Seinfeld.

• On how she viewed Gwen prior to the events of the Original Series, she said that her character was "the exact opposite of Ben in every way but not in a good way at all. She was a mean, obnoxious and just plain snobbish brat who didn't have many friends and never helped people. In fact, Gwen WAS a bully who picked on others because they weren't as smart as her. The summer road trip is what changed her into a better, stronger and definitely more caring person with a stronger relationship to her cousin and that eventually evolved into her full maturity into a good person all around who used her powers for good and to help others in Alien Force and even Ultimate Alien".

• She actually pitched to Man Of Action an idea she had for a potential What If episode for the show for its fourth and final season that was "if Gwen never went on the summer trip, went up against Charmcaster and learned the hard way her behavior and actions have consequences". But it didn't go nowhere to her disappointment.

• She has expressed interest and a want for screenwriting and revealed she has written a screenplay for a horror comedy about vampires dealing with voodoo priests in New Orleans.

• She revealed as well that she actually has an idea for an entire Gwen Tennyson spin-off series that she says acts as a true reboot to the show:

"It's three seasons with about 25 episodes each that tell a complete story with a clear beginning, middle and end is how I picture exactly beat-for-beat. The first season would be a new take on the original show with Gwen having to stay the whole summer with a close family friend, Sandra (Ben's mom), and her actions end up leading Charmcaster to them. The second season would be another new take this time on Alien Force and it would follow a now teenage Gwen, a more mature Sandra and Charmcaster having to team up against a new threat that would affect them in different ways. The third season would be a take on Ultimate Alien with the three of them coming full-circle while they deal with with newfound fame in their lives.

Here, Gwen isn't a Tennyson and instead her last name would be either another pun-type or something slightly irregular like 'Avery', 'Sommers' or 'Goldenthal', Sandra is a witch who put her magic to rest so she could have a normal life and Charmcaster starts off as a deadly and dangerous witch who tracks down other witches like her and girls who have magical auras to collect their powers and eventually turns into a morally grey anti-hero who leans towards the villainous side but has a code.

I don't want to give anything else away as I think I could actually do it depending on what happens in the future. But what I will say is I'm hoping that I can cross-over other media potentially with the show in its third and final season since it would make sense since just like Ben in Ultimate Alien, they're outed now and are celebrities".

[thosehallowedhalls]

The Secret History

Book: Crimes of Passion

Pairing: m!Trystan Thorne x Emma Rose (F!MC)

Rating: General audiences

Word count: 638

Summary: Trystan is planning a special movie night. Only, they're not actually watching a movie.

A/N: I wrote this last night on my phone, but I was too tired to transcribe it. For @inlocusmads, who gave me the prompt "There is a method to my madness" "Oh for heaven's sake-" "It's a three step process actually." Drabble 18 of my 30 days of drabbles.

Anyone who knows Trystan Thorne knows this: he isn’t one to do things by halves. And that involves preparing for movie nights.

“We’re just going to watch a movie,” Emma complains, exasperated, when he moves the bowl of (salty) popcorn half an inch further from the (sour) candy. Again.

“No, my dear. We’re going to watch something much more interesting. Besides, there is a method to my madness.”

She runs a hand through her hair. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

“It’s a three-step process, actually. First: ensure you have enough food.” He waves a hand in the direction of the loaded coffee table. “Achieved. Second: everything must be in perfect order. The salted and sweet popcorn must be on opposite sides of the table.”

“Please tell me you already managed that. I can’t keep watching you organize the snacks.”

“Already done.”

“Thank God.”

“And third.” He points at the couch. “Ensure that the cushions are in perfect shape.”

Emma drops her head to her hands. “I’m never watching a movie with you again. Wait.” She peers up at him. “You said we were going to watch something more interesting than a movie.”

The corners of his mouth kick up. “Did I? Interesting turn of phrase.”

“Trystan, what are you up to?”

“My dearest Emma, why would you think I’m up to something?”

“Because I know you, and that gleam in your eyes never bodes well.”

“Oh yes. There is that. Well.” He sits and pats the spot on the couch next to him. “Let’s watch some TV.”

Still suspicious, she takes her seat. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“Whatever it is that has you so…” She looks for the right word. “Smirky.”

“Smirky, is it? Well, I suppose you have a right to know, seeing as it concerns you-.”

He takes the remote and presses play. Emma drops the fistful of popcorn she just grabbed. “Oh. Oh no. Please tell me that isn’t…”

“A fourteen-year-old Emma Rose, in a very youthful performance of the Scottish play.”

She covers her eyes. “Turn that off.”

“Not a chance.” But he hits pause, not wanting to miss a minute. “Why would you want me to?”

“Because.” Still covering her eyes with one hand, she tries to wrestle the remote from him. “That was my very first play. I’m wearing a witch costume…”

“With a hat?” He asks hopefully.

“Of course there’s a hat. I had artistic integrity.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to watch this.”

“My hair looks like I stuck my fingers in an outlet...”

“I’m sure it adds character.”

“I’m cackling…”

“Actually cackling or just laughing?”

“Cackling. Think Bette Midler in Hocus Pocus.”

He actually rubs his hands together. “This just keeps getting better.”

“And I sing. Or, well, chant.”

“So? I know you can sing.”

“Yeah, now. I couldn’t sing then. I fear for your windows. They might break.”

“I’ll replace them.”

She drops her hand. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“Fine. Let’s watch teenage me make a fool of herself.”

“If you want, I can tell you embarrassing stories from my teenage years later.”

“Not quite the same unless you’re providing footage. Although…” A slow smile spreads on her face. “I could always text Marguerite.”

Trystan’s expression goes from indulgent to alarmed in two seconds flat. “Now, wait a minute.”

“Turnabout is fair play, my prince.”

He heaves a sigh. “All right. We can have another viewing session when you have that footage. But for now, can we watch this, please?”

“Wait!” She plucks a throw pillow and holds it in front of her face. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Trystan is already laughing when she hears her own voice, minus about fifteen years, begin to speak.

When shall we three meet again

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

Right. She’s texting Lydea, too.

[brainsforbabyjesus]

i've been reading the hork-bajir chronicles with my kid and that led me to reading 34 and now I'm having Thoughts at 4am

hbc implies that Aldrea and Dak will die from the quantum virus but in 34 we find out that both Dak and Aldrea (and therefore Delf Hajool as well) were naturally immune.

so either Aldrea just happened to be very lucky that she acquired one of the apparently very few hork-bajir that were immune and Dak just happened to also be very lucky and they were very lucky to be immune together OR something else was going on there.

of course I am deep diving into the something else going on

first point! in hbc we learn that one in ten thousand hork-bajir are born with a particular bundle of genes that makes them a seer and it seems if you have those specific genes all together they immediately present as higher levels of intelligence, so! I think we can assume that those genes are dominant but to get a seer you need all of them at once which is why a seer doesn't immediately have a child who is also a seer but that it does follow bloodlines. The likelihood of a seer passing on every single seer gene would be pretty low.

Say there's ten genes you need to get a seer, there's a 50/50 chance each gene will be passed on. The seer is only likely to pass on about five seer genes any given time. Same goes for their partner, maybe they carry a couple of seer genes too but it would still be a 50/50 chance whether they get passed on.

So a seer would have all 10 genes, and only pass on maybe 5. If their partner had some of the seer genes, say, 4, they might only pass on 2. The next generation is smarter with 7 seer genes (five from a seer and 2 from a not seer) but they aren't a seer, they're just a slightly smarter hork-bajir, and they would go on to pass down only three or four of the seer genes. Etc etc, you get fewer seer genes the further out from the seer. After that it's down to luck if the parents happen to give enough seer genes to one kid.

second point! we learn in hbc that the hork-bajir resistance took 70% casualties. Presumably leaving behind only those who were more resourceful/quick thinking. If having some seer genes bestows a slight intelligence boost it would be reasonable to assume that those 30% left standing had more seer genes than the others and so had a better grasp of battle tactics/plans/independent thinking which is why they survived as along as they did.

third point! If the quantum virus was based on a "regular" hork-bajir it might not recognize Dak and any other other hork-bajir with enough seer genes as a hork-bajir, thus giving them a natural immunity to the virus.

So! if fighting the yeerks already pared down the population of non-seer gene carriers it gives better odds that Aldrea would pick a seer gene carrying hork-bajir to acquire and thus gain a natural immunity to the virus.

Essentially, the war with the yeerks selected for smarter hork-bajir but also accidentally selected for hork-bajir that would be immune from the virus.

This also means that the likelihood of a seer being born goes up. There are fewer hork-bajir now, but the population is made up of two groups: those who were off planet who hold a regular mix of seer gene carriers and non carriers and the planet side population which is made up of exclusively high seer gene carriers. It's not so much that there are more gene carriers now it's that there are fewer non-carriers.

The yeerks would likely further select for seer gene carriers when compelling hork-bajir to reproduce because they would be the ones known to survive the quantum virus and they would have no way of knowing if the andalites would use it again, so better safe than sorry. And being yeerks likely wouldn't care/believe this was spreading the brain development genes.

There's also evidence in the books that implies that the seer prior to Dak Hamee had been born quite some time ago, long enough that they aren't remembered by the general population as a thing that even exists. Whereas Dak Hamee is remembered as being a seer and the average hork-bajir knows what that means. So it does seem that Dak Hamee and Toby Hamee are born closer together than what was historically normal.

And! To further my, there are more individuals with seer genes and just having those genes makes you smarter argument, consider the difference in the average hork-bajir from hbc to animorphs' time. The hbc hork-bajir largely don't join the fight and don't seem to be suspicious of people being abducted even after it becomes obvious something nefarious is happening. Of a whole planet only eight hundred ever fight back. Whereas during the animorphs time non-seer hork-bajir are adept at planning and leading raids to free other hork-bajir on the regular even before Toby is born.

Anyway, the tl;dr of it: seers require a whole bundle of thinky brain genes and those must circulate in the population until they build up in one super brainy hork-bajir and tragically a plague and a war likely made those genes more prevalent in the population making the species smarter as a whole (and everyone is just speciest against hork-bajir calling them dumb four year olds when they've been liberating their own people with higher success rates than anyone else).

[miss0atae]

Random thoughts about SOTUS episode 3 :

The students still have to do the hazings and it's not going easy for any of the freshmen. Even their seniors (sophomores, I guess) have it tough because the third year are not happy. Among all these things, the freshmen also have to find a student president to represent them and Kong has to represent the engineering students for the faculty's star contest.

▪️ As for the hazings I can't believe they truly believe it will have a positive impact on group bonding, as it was suggesting by the seniors. Many of the activities they gave them seem to be pointless and only contribute in putting the students in uncomfortable situations (remember the girl who hyperventilated) or humiliate them (such as the stupid commands given to get the senior signatures). In this episode, they have to chant. It really seems like a waste of time. I know the hazings are just a plot device to make the story goes further and show Kong and Arthit's different reactions and confrontations. However, I wonder if it's truly useful to increases solidarity. This wasn't really popular when I was a student and also it wasn't really something done in my country. I already saw this kind of activities done in American movies. Is it popular in Thailand, too?

▪️ This episode gave an opportunity for three other secondary characters to shine. The first one is M. In the previous episode, he was just this shy freshman who was a “childhood” friend of Kong. He seems to be easily fearful and would like to avoid any kind of attention. When you compare him to Kong, you'll feel he isn't really capable of standing his ground. Yet, in this episode, he gathered his courage and asked for Kong to stay in the group. I was really impressed because I never thought he would be the kind of person to ask this. Especially, as he seems to be quite overwhelmed when he has to go against a senior. Arthit inspires fear in most of the freshmen at this point of the story, so to go against what he said, was truly a feat for M. I believe a true selfless act always sparks another and as Kong usually tries to save everyone, it was pleasant to see someone fights for him. I can understand why they are friends. M may be less effusive, but he is a true friend when it's needed.

▪️ The second character who got the chance to shine in this episode, was Knot, another third-year senior. He is viewed as less strict than Arthit, but he also inspires respect. I'm absolutely not impartial when I said I was charmed by him. His character looks like the kind of person you can rely on. Of course, he wasn't super nice to the freshmen. He asked them about the signature book and why they haven't realized this simple task which made the freshmen uncomfortable again. He was also the one who bought the idea of appointing a student president for their year. I know he didn't do that much, but it was important because it was the first time when Arthit wasn't seen as the leader of the hazings. Something happened and the next best person to take after Arthit, was Knot. I believe it shows how reliable he can be. Oh and also I find him truly handsome. There is something about him. I can't really explain.

▪️ The last character who we get to know more is May. She was the student, Kong failed to remember the name in the previous episode. He gave her his name tag and since then, she felt for him. She finds him interesting and she is set as a potential love interest. It was funny to see the group of girls bringing this Japanese belief of writing the name of your crush on an eraser. You have to know the first time I heard it was when I read the manga My Love Mix-Up (I also watched the drama). I wonder where does it come from? Is it just a young belief or does it come from another book/manga? Of course, May will write the name of Kong on the eraser he gave her. I don't think it will end well.

▪️ Time to talk about my favorite part of the series which is everything related to Arthit and Kong. I'm slowly liking them more and more. Kong was staying true to himself and wanted again to save everyone when Arthit was disappointing by the second-year students teaching. He really has the syndrome of the white knight. Obviously it sparked another confrontation between them. The tension between these two! Arthit can't help himself, he always gets so annoyed by Kong, especially when Kong refuses to just stay still. What I find so interesting is how Kong always forgives him so easily and even thinks Arthit's actions are a proof he is having a fondness for him. It leads of course to more flirting and I live for these small moments. Kong's flirting is top-tier and it always leaves Arthit to be speechless. I feel a bit sorry for Arthit (not really) because he can't win against him. He ended up again flustered. I really appreciate how shameless and bold Kong is when it comes to flirting with his senior.

I don't even know if he realizes how down bad he is for Arthit. I mean he can't help himself and look for him everywhere, especially now that he noticed Arthit's room is just in front of his own room. When Knot acted as the leader of the senior during the gathering, Kong wasn't really listening, he was just looking after Arthit and felt nervous until he saw him. When he went to the photoshoot for the faculty's star contest, he asked questions about Arthit. Kong can't help himself, he is so interested in anything related to his favorite senior and it shows! When he met Arthit at the canteen he was again ready to do all the dumb things the guy may ask him (like eating spicy food even if he doesn't like or saying out loud a prayer even if it's embarrassing). As much as Arthit pretends to be annoyed by Kong, he can't help his true nature of being a real softy. I actually like how the story shows us he is not just a bully who like to harass freshmen. I believe Arthit is not really capable of dealing well with his feelings. I also think it must be hard for him to pretend to always be a tough cookie.

▪️ Finally, I have one intrusive thought… Is Pink Milk a thing? What's the taste of this drink? There is a drink in my country which looks the same, but I don't know if it's the same thing. It's funny how Arthit who always pretend to be a tough guy likes this type of drink. It helps to soften his image. I feel like the Pink Milk has its own place among famous inanimate objects in BL series such as the cactus, the astronaut or the rubber ducky. (This thought was inspired by this post!)

I wonder if the next episode will be about the faculty's star contest and what new stupid hazings' activity the freshmen will have to do. Most importantly, what new flirting will Kong do to Arthit.

[dumbsoftheart]

erysichthon’s punishment, 1

pairing: eater!peter parker x f!eater!reader

tags: dead dove, do not eat: themes of cannibalism, violence, 18+ only, eventual smut, angstttt, blonde peter parker, drug use, mentions of panic attacks, swearing, manipulation

summary: “i want you to eat me, angel, bones and all” two young cannibals meet in the midwest, fall in love, find struggles along the way.

notes: something something about cannibalism as a metaphor for love. bones and all eats at me constantly (lol) so why not put my favorite boy in it. written with tasm!peter in mind but any variant can be inserted. this really started as a vague idea and is loosely based off of the book and the movie soooo we’ll see how it goes! written in third person pov, but this could easily be read as reader-insert. no use of y/n, yet. i think.

word count: 3.7k

see chapter two, here

౨ׅৎ

she felt faint. her mind gave her no restitution, and the sickly sweet scent of blood that invaded her sense of smell certainly didn’t ease the matter. it stuck to her chin in a coagulated mess, sticky and dried from the longevity of its presence on her body. 

she knocked on the door, wincing at the way the blood on her knuckles stained the worn, white doorframe, seeping into its crevices, spreading itself in between the cracked paint and seeping its way through the wood. it was supposed to be a sleepover. she stared blankly into her reflection in the window next to her, watching as her father groggily climbed off the couch and stumbled his way towards the entrance. 

it was supposed to be a sleepover. when her classmate approached her that morning, inviting her to spend the night with her and her friends, her heart swelled with gratitude. it wasn't often she was offered a hand in friendship, much less an invitation into the safety of one’s home. how could she take advantage of that? her mind was moving faster than she could process, unable to grasp onto a coherent thought. 

she’d expected fear, when he’d opened the door. screaming, crying, hell, she wouldn’t put him past a few blows to her face, abdomen, legs, anywhere to punish her for fucking up their last chance at normalcy in this new town. 

but no, instead she found herself searching desperately for what emotion it was that darkened his eyes. those big, brown eyes he’d passed onto her. the only feature of his that they shared. she was the splitting image of her mother, otherwise. or so she was told. she couldn’t muster the courage to speak, despite having planned an entire speech beforehand. instead, she cried. she cried, and she could see her salty tears wash away the traces of blood on her cheeks in her fathers eyes. wrapping her arms around herself, she shook with tears. how pathetic, she thought. but she couldn’t find it in her to truly care about how pathetic it was, to be crying her eyes out after the sins she’d just committed, only 30 minutes before. all she cared about was her father in front of her, and her mind screamed each passing second he hadn’t uttered a word. staring, eyes unreadable, it drove her mad, and only worsened her state of being. 

“in the car. three minutes. what you can take in three minutes. got it?” was all he had said, and he pulled her inside, carefully and softly. it confused her; he wasn't mad, no, he seemed understanding, almost. he was already moving before she could get a word in. 

౨ׅৎ

when she awoke the next morning, she couldn't help but retrace the events of the previous night. 

sherry, sweet sherry, and her fingers. at the time, it didn’t even register what she was doing as the girl showed her the colour of her nails, urging her to sniff the scented polish. all she could think about was how good she smelled. her perfume, smokey and sweet, and the overpowering smell of sweat and oils that permeated from her fingertips just went too well with the manufactured orange scent of the polish. it was overwhelming for her at the time, and she hadn't even noticed she’d guided the girls fingers into her mouth and bit down. she realised, now, that metallic red syrup was really what she had craved. the sweet nectar of the human body was intoxicating, and it wasn’t until the girl’s friend forced her hand out of her mouth that she understood what she had done. 

adrenaline was a funny thing. she didn't remember what had happened next, how she’d left the house, or the terrified words that the party of girls had been shrieking at her as she stumbled her way out of the house. she didn’t remember how she had reached home, yet she felt in the ache of her legs that she had run like hell to the only other familiar building she knew, that she had reluctantly been able to call home. 

another town, another fleeting home. her father's hurried relocations had become routine.  each fleeting residence held no roots, merely serving as a passing semblance of shelter. it was never really home, she thought, but she didn’t know what else to call it. she clung to her father's whispered assurance, the mantra that tethered her to some semblance of belonging: "home is our togetherness." they had always found their way around a new state, a new town, every year or so. sometimes they didnt even last a few months. it had been better lately, though, she had been at her school for a while, even though she kept to herself. there was a certain hunger inside of her; an unspeakable, monstrous hunger. it kept them from leading a normal life, and even though her father assured her it wasn’t her fault she was this way, had tried his best to tame it, she was consumed with guilt. she had failed him, and now she had ruined every bit of his hard work to keep her safe. tears began to prick her eyes, and she hurriedly wiped them away before they could fall. this is your fault, she reminded herself, you don't get to cry. 

she didn't recall how she’d found herself at the gas station, either. she’d hopped onto the nearest train to chicago, trying her best to spare the little amount of money she’d been given by her father. she’d slept on an old and creaky bench, and she assumed that by morning her hunger had gotten the best of her and her feet had taken her to the nearest place she could find food. 

when she had passed her father’s room-- door open, bed not even slept in, she already had that anxious gut-feeling that something was wrong. by the time she had made it to the kitchen, the only remnants of another life that she had found lay on the small, round, dining table. the driveway was empty. an envelope containing cash and a piece of paper reading “CERTIFICATE OF LIVE BIRTH.” sat on the table and was held down by a cassette tape. she knew what it meant immediately, and her composure collapsed inward. she couldn’t, not for the life of her, recall ever falling to the floor, or her desperation to rewind the past fueling her rabid, animal-like scratches on the floor. she heaved out a sob, barely audible from the way pain and sorrow constricted her chest. as she trailed her fingers over the various chip bags, she wondered how normal it was for her to forget the things she did so easily. she thought about her mother, and how she’d always scold her for being blinded with emotion so much as a child. she surmised she was right. 

when she finally found the courage to sit up and listen to the tape, she felt eerily calm. she thought it laughable, remembering what one of her biology teachers had said to her a year earlier after a particularly bad panic attack-- something about the release of oxytocin and endorphins in your brain relaxing you afterwards. but then, as she thought about it again, she realised what she really felt was just numb. she hit play on the tape. 

“i’ve got things to say and then i want you to make sure this tape is good and destroyed. don’t keep it because it’s got my voice on it.

you aren’t going to see me again. i can’t help you anymore. so i’ve gotta leave you to figure it out for yourself. you know what i mean now.” 

the words replayed in her head as she scanned the snack aisle of the gas station. nothing seemed to quench her appetite. her father's words echoed in her mind. you know what i mean now. despite knowing very well what he had meant by the phrase, she pretended not to. she reached for a pack of chips, fingers mechanically gripping the familiar packaging, yet the uneasiness within persisted. placing the pack of chips back on the shelf, she glanced up to see a mother and her daughter bounce into the store, shortly after followed by a gruff, seemingly displeasing and drunk man. watching the girl skip and tiptoe around the stands of candy and soft drinks made her wince. 

“i don’t know how much of what i’m about to say you remember. maybe you honestly don’t. i’ve never been sure. some of it goes way back. first time was when you were three--”

three? she had stopped the tape there, knowing she didn't have the energy to continue, at least not yet. watching the little girl made the revelation feel all that unbelieving. it bordered on pure gore. the kind of thing not even movies would dare try to imply. three years old. such a tender age, navigating the basic tenets of life—learning to speak, to walk, to understand the world around them; mind filled with innocent curiosity, exploring the simplest joys of play and discovery.

but the past remained shrouded in obscurity, a mystery she wasn't sure she wanted to unravel. 

she was pulled from her thoughts when the drunken shouts of the man from before pierced her ears. 

“--you deaf? i asked you a question.” the man had backed the mother into a corner, her child wailing from behind them, unable to grasp onto what was happening. she watched the poor, frail woman try to squeak in a few words of apology, but the man was unrelenting. 

“HEAR THIS YOU DUMB HO?” he screamed, and she flinched behind the safety of the snack aisle. 

“hey, don’t talk to her like that!” she yelped from her corner. she didn't know exactly what had possessed her to speak, given her demeanour. she also knew very well she couldn't handle to mans outburst as well as the woman before her had. he turned to face her, and she felt the blood drain from her face. her hands trembled as he stumbled towards her, and she silently cursed at herself for not leaving while she could have- searching desperately in the corners of her eyes for an employee, management, something to stop the large man from turning her into a puddle of limbs on the floor. the child was still wailing uncontrollably even as her mother managed to reach her, and she felt dizzy. 

seriously, does no one work here? 

she took a step back as he marched closer, and she saw the veins sticking out crudely from his neck. his face was comically red, and she would have found it somewhere in herself to find it absolutely hilarious had it not been her his anger was steered at. he reached out for her with two hands, and she simply accepted her fate. 

her fate, she realised, was much more forgiving than she had realised. a lanky figure pushed past her from behind, a boy with a wide, mischievous eyes and a face harbouring a ridiculously dopey smile, given the circumstances.

“you’re out of control, pal. you should sign up for a yoga class. find your inner zen or something."

she watched as the boy swiftly dodged the now confused man’s flailing of arms, sticking his foot out ever so slightly, causing the man to fall to his knees. he pretended to coo at the man as he tried to stand back up, his progress hindered by his drunkenness. when he managed to get up, her eyes widened with fear. he breathed heavily, and she was stuck in place as she watched the man swing at the mysterious boy from behind. her eyes shut, unwilling to see the damage that was done. he was simply just so big, most definitely bigger than the boy taunting him, and there was no way she could see him recovering from such force.

“i've seen scarier things in my cereal. come on, bring it!” she heard the boy provoke, and she tore her eyes open to find the man on the floor yet again. the boy effortlessly dodged his advances, enraging him further by his carelessness and ease at which he escaped each violent approach. he picked up a few snacks as he scurried in between the stand of snacks and food, snatching up a candy bar and handing it to the little girl before urging them to leave the store. at this point, a few employees had emerged from behind the counter. 

“listen man, i’d love to dance a little longer, but it’s past my curfew. ‘s also quite rude to take me from my date, don't you think?’ the boy had made his way to her by now, snatching up the bag of chips he must’ve seen her eyeing before grabbing her arm and pulling her behind him. she stumbled clumsily, laughing exasperatedly as she processed the events that just took place. 

“management, yeah?” he pointed towards the short and stubby man fussing over the mess that was made over the gas station floor. “i’ll be taking these, no need to thank me for doing your jobs!” he waved the snacks in the face of the disgruntled manager before dragging her out the store, swiftly turning the corner, her legs pumping in tandem with his as he took her away from sight. 

she couldnt help the smile that was tattooed on her face, only slightly concerned about the young boy dragging her off to god-knows-where. he seemed to be about her age, and as they slowed down, stopped by an old bus stop, she studied him. 

he was slender, tall, and lean. his hair was tousled and messy, adorned with blond highlights, and she could see a hint of a washed-out pink peeking through some of the strands. she noted how pretty he was, with his boyish features and that mischievous glint in his eyes that seemed to be permanent. his eyes were wild, and she brushed it off as excitement from the stunt he had just pulled. they were brown, hazel, she corrected, and they shined beautifully in the sun beating down on them. doubled over, catching his breath after whatever that daring stunt he'd just pulled, he finally looked up at her, and she felt her cheeks heat up. "it’s rude to stare, y’know," he panted, though his tone was light, and she couldn't find a trace of annoyance in his words. she was caught, caught in the intrigue of this stranger who stood before her, extending his hand in a gesture of kindness. "peter. are you okay?"

her wide eyes betrayed her, realising she'd been staring for too long, and his hand had been extended towards her for an uncomfortable amount of time. she saw him shuffle uncertainly at his feet. 

“oh, um- yes. yeah, i'm fine. thank you” her voice was small, she hadn’t spoken much in the past 72 hours, and she could feel the consequences of it in the way her voice hitched at the end of her sentence. she felt him looking at her, and suddenly she felt the desperate need to be back in her corner at the gas station. he continued to stare, and she grew frustrated.

“yes?” 

“you didn’t give me your name.”

her lips fell into an ‘o’ shape, and she debated whether or not she should actually give him her name. after all, she didn't know the boy. “maybe i don't have one,” she decided. 

he frowned, and she worried if she was being unkind. he did just save her sorry ass, so a name would be gratuitous, at the very least. she chewed on her lip, and he gazed at her expectantly. her father always taught her the importance of being safe around others, moreso due to her difference than anything, but it still stuck with her. 

she moved to open her mouth, prepared to ramble about safety, and about how she was a lady, and he was merely a random boy who happened to help her out of a tough spot. his sudden heroism didn't actually make him a hero, and she’d heard plenty of stories about men who feign kindness only to trap women for themselves; but her efforts were stopped when he lightly grabbed her wrist and leaned forward, inhaling deeply into her hair. 

“what are you d-”

“you’re an eater.” his voice was lower now, laced with sudden realisation. 

“i’m a what?” 

“i can smell you. you’re like me.” she had no idea what the words meant, and his eyes pierced into hers. her brows furrowed, racking her brain for an answer to the boy's strange accusation. she was like him? then it clicked, and she froze. 

“no, i’m not” she said carefully, drawing her hand away from his grasp. he grinned, shaking his head lightly, “yeah, you are. i could smell you from a mile away.”

her head spun, still confused at the interaction unfolding before her. where did he even come from? whisking her away and then somehow prodding into one of her biggest, most unspeakable secrets? the nerve on him was slowly starting to show, and she felt anger bubbling inside of her. 

but she couldn't shake away what he was insinuating. she was like him. was he trying to say that there were more people like her? cursed with an insatiable hunger, never to be indulged? it seemed impossible. all her life, she was convinced she was fucked up in the head; she’d end up one day in the papers alongside those other monsters who actually acted upon their horrible desires all for the sake of some twisted fantasy. none of it made sense to her. the way he spoke about it, he made it seem as if there was a community of them. she never wanted to eat people, or wanted to want to eat people, if that was more appropriate. it was just something in her that ran deep, that she couldn't control. she wasn't like gacy or dahmer, crazed serial killers with some sexual fantasy attached to their depraved wrongdoings. she never wanted to hurt intentionally, it was more like an obsession. something that invaded her thoughts daily, an intrusive thought she couldn't push away when she got closer to someone than she intended to. 

he searched her eyes. for what, she didn't know. an answer, presumably, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to give him one. instead, she settled on a whisper, “there are others like me?”

she felt small. she couldn't push down her anxiety, and she felt the familiar tightening in her throat. her whole life, she was beside herself, grappling with the reality of who she was; never accepting it, no, but it still lingered on her mind constantly. she looked up at him, meeting his gaze. was he always this tall? she felt trapped. what was once a harmless conversation had now felt like a police interrogation, and he quickly picked up on her panic, bending down ever so slightly to level with her, “woah, hey, it’s okay. are you okay? you’re like, really pale. i didnt mean to freak you out, angel.” the affectionate name barely registered in her head, focusing instead on her rapid breathing as he sat her down on the bench next to her. he was rambling now, clearly distraught by her sudden change in emotional state. 

“i have, like, water. do you want water? i stole it, from uh, earlier, as you know. dude, you’re really pale. i’m not gonna rat you out or anything,” his nervous rambling was really not making things better for her.

can she really only now be learning these ropes? it baffled him. it wasn't like there was a surplus of eaters, he rarely met any in his time on the road. but surely, surely this couldn’t be a revelation for her. he reached into his bag, pulling out one of the bottles of water and handing it to her, watching intensely as she scarfed it down. 

“i’m new at this. i’ve never met someone like me before,” she spilled out, gasping lightly. 

“no one our age is ‘new’ at this.”

“well, i am,” she spat, getting up hastily and trying to sort out her belongings as she rushed off. 

“hey, wait!” he caught up to her quickly, his feet stumbling as he hurriedly balanced himself on his old, battered skateboard, “whats the rush, angel?” his voice had an edge of humour in it, which she found insulting. he’s seriously mocking her in her state? 

“dont call me that.” she grumbled, turning a corner and kicking a few pebbles behind her. she heard him shout in protest as his skateboard gave way under the rocks, and she’d managed to distance herself from him significantly. 

he was by her side again in a mere moment.

how fast is this guy?

“well, you wont give me your name, so i’ve gotta call you somethin’” he reasoned, with an annoyingly charming smile on his face. there was something about his accent that was out of place. he lacked the same drawl that everyone else she’d encountered had, and she concluded he wasn't from here. it did little in inclining her to trust him. 

she sped up, wanting more than anything to just get away. it was all too much to process in one day, and she dreaded the fact that she still had a ways to go with the awful cassette tape her dad had left her. she stopped in her tracks when he yelled something towards her, and she felt him slowly roll next to her. 

“i can help you.” 

she studied him, looking for any sense of dishonesty or malice in his eyes, but she found none. he was earnest, and it only upset her more. she inhaled deeply, narrowing her eyes at him.

“what’s your angle?”

“no angle. you’re clearly battling some demons with this. i can help.” 

she weighed the pros and cons of his proposition. she was alone, with nowhere to go, in the middle of god-knows-where in chicago. she knew nobody, more importantly, she had nobody to go to, not anymore. he seemed sincere enough, and she figured she could indulge in his offer for a while before figuring her own shit out. 

“fine.”

he smiled, “yeah?”

“yeah, whatever. let's go,” she continued to walk at an unnecessarily fast pace, and she bit back a grin when he stumbled over himself again, urging her to wait up on him. 

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 3/5

Book Blurb:

A professional baseball player and his heckler prove that true love is worth going to bat for in the next swoony romance by USA Today bestselling author Alicia Thompson.

Daphne Brink doesn’t follow baseball, but watching “America’s Snoozefest” certainly beats sitting at home in the days after she signs her divorce papers. After one too many ballpark beers, she heckles Carolina Battery player Chris Kepler, who quickly proves there might actually be a little crying in baseball. Horrified, Daphne reaches out to Chris on social media to apologize . . . but forgets to identify herself as his heckler in her message.

Chris doesn’t usually respond to random fans on social media, but he’s grieving and fragile after an emotionally turbulent few months. When a DM from “Duckie” catches his eye, he impulsively messages back. Duckie is sweet, funny, and seems to understand him in a way no one else does.

Daphne isn’t sure how much longer she can keep lying to Chris, especially as she starts working with the team in real life and their feelings for each other deepen. When he finds out the truth, will it be three strikes, she’s out?

Review:

After a terrible divorce, Daphne Brink decides to go a baseball game (despite not knowing anything about the sport) and heckle one of the professional players... what she doesn't expect is to make him cry and then become so guilt ridden that she begins messaging him... but she forgot to tell him who she is and as they fall for one another her secret might just destroy her second chance at romance. Daphne Brink is newly divorced and decides to go to the baseball game she was meant to go to with her ex, the only thing is Daphne knows nothing about the sport and isn't exactly a fan. So a few days after signing her divorce paper she goes to the game and decides to heckle one of the professional players, Chris Kepler. Her heckle was just meant to be a joke (she said it when she was super drunk) what she didn't expect was that it would make Chris cry and it would become a widely televised moment. Daphne is riddled with guilt and messages him to apologize... except she never actually says who she is and to her surprise he begins to talk to her and confide in her. Chris doesn't normally respond to random fan messages on social media, but he's still grieving and dealing with a lot, from his older brother's suicide to the strain of the game and his relationship with his own father. Yet when a DM from a "Duckie" catches his eye, he impulsively answers and so begins a sweet and romantic relationship. Daphne is falling for Chris but the more she talks to him the ore afraid she gets of revealing who she is and to make matters worse because of her nationalized moment as his heckler she is actually hired to do the team interviews... so now she has to pretend to not know Chris while also keeping her secret. Can she keep lying to Chris or will her online and in person worlds collide and the truth spill out and destroy the relationship between them? This started off really cute but got kind of annoying because honestly Daphne was straight up catfishing this poor dude for so so long and it really felt like she would have absolutely never ever told him. Daphne had so many opportunities, had so many chances, especially as the relationship was getting more real, that it felt a bit weird and maddening that she just refused to tell the poor guy. Chris is better than me, if I found out someone who not only heckled me, but used what I told them about myself in my vulnerable moments and threw it in my face, and then also would have never told me the truth if I didn't find out, I would have never turned back and couldn't even be in the same room as them. I can understand Daphne's fear but it just didn't feel right to me. I thought the romance was sweet at first but then the whole third act breakup happened and honestly, I kind of wanted better for Chris. Overall, it's a great book if you are a fan of hidden identity relationship stories.

Release Date: June 18,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Berkley Publishing Group | Berkley for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[doubtingthomasin]

kinktober: hellcheer edition

prompt 19: brat tamer eddie word count: 1.9k

holy shit this might be my favorite one so far i

MINORS DNI

@viharker

Eddie loves everything about Chrissy. He loves her soft hair, her fragile smile, the way her laugh sounds like a symphony he never wants to forget. He loves her wit, her kindness, her big doe eyes, how she gets embarrassed if she even so much as burps in front of him. ("Ooh, good one!" "Ugh, no, Eddie.")

He loves her excitement over finishing a hard assignment or finally mastering a difficult D&D concept, and the way she melts like putty in his hands when they mess around. He repeats this list in his head because at the moment, he's trying not to be angry.

Because at the moment, they’re studying for finals.

And of course it’s content from Ms. O’Donnell’s class that’s tripping him up, as if they haven’t been over this several times before. But it’s the huffing that’s getting to him, the little burst of air as she loses more patience, and he knows she’s stressed but come on. Eventually he gets up to pace, trying to remember the difference between electrons and protons and covalent bonds and all that shit, shaking his head because it’s just not sticking. He stops, hazards a guess.

After a long pause. “Ionic.”

She flips the flash card over. “Yep.” It’s the biggest smile he’s seen on her face all day. “See, I knew you–Eddie, where are you going?”

He’s halfway down the hallway as she asks, and his hands are shaking with nervous energy from being idle too long. He grabs his acoustic off the stand, already feeling calmer with the first strummed chord as he returns to the living room. “Eddie?”

“What? Keep going without me.”

“We have, like, twenty more flashcards to cover.”

“I think I’ve got it.”

“You think?” She’s up from the table, taking a few steps closer. “Eddie, this is your last chance. Then you have to take the GED if you fail.”

“It’s probably easier than this,” he chuckles wryly, starting in on the first chords of War Pigs as he lands on the couch.

She could spend the next ten minutes trying uselessly to convince him otherwise, or she could use that time to study for herself. She chooses the latter. He hoped she would, but not with a huff. He shakes it off, continuing the song.

It’s been a while, and he’s lost track of time, but it’s at least the third song he’s played when her hands slap the table. She says nothing, simply gathers all her papers and notes and goes to his room, somehow perfectly shutting the door hard but not hard enough to call it a slam. He realizes that’s probably a product of her upbringing, and yet his hands still tremble.

Eddie tries to keep playing, to just let her do what she needs to, but it’s nagging him like a mosquito because she knows. She knows she can talk to him about anything, and she’s choosing not to. He knows that for sure because he asked her what was wrong on about the first ten huffs. He considers bringing the guitar, but if she huffs one more time, and especially about music…

He knocks on the door, standing outside for a second before remembering, Jesus Christ, it’s his house. Opening the door slowly, he sees her lying the length of his bed, fingers pressed into her temples.

“Need anything?” Huff. “What is that?!”

She looks up at him, slightly startled by the increase in volume, and it wasn’t a yell but it was somewhere close. “What’s what?”

He imitates the huff. “That!”

“I…I’m trying to concentrate, Eddie.”

He lowers his voice, swallowing before he replies. “You were the one who wanted to come over.”

“Because I thought you were still taking all this seriously.”

“I am but, Chrissy, you’ve been at this for three hours straight. That can’t be healthy.”

She sits up, anxiety creasing her forehead. “You don’t understand, I have to pass.”

“Have you ever even come close to failing before?”

“No, but–”

“Exactly! You need a break!”

She growls as she turns back to her books, thinking of how this is exactly why she doesn’t study at friends’ houses. “Don’t tell me what to do, Eddie.”

He makes a few non-rude hand gestures to calm himself, before steepling them in front of his nose. Apparently, it’s one of those days where he’s willing to gamble with his very life. “Chrissy…who’s the master here?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, my God, that’s only when we’re in bed.”

He has to work to keep from laughing. “And where are you laying now?”

She gives him a withering look, grabbing the pile of flashcards and standing to walk past him out of the room. He doesn’t move. She tries to go around him and he blocks her. “Eddie, seriously?”

Her face gets redder as his smile gets wider and he knows he’s got her. She starts pushing on his chest, grunting with frustration. “Ah-ha!” She drops to the floor quickly, thinking she can crawl between his legs. It’s exactly what he wanted.

He sinks to his knees, pinning her waist to the floor with his hands and she yelps. “What are you doing?!”

“You’ve been misbehaving all day, and I’ve had just about enough of it, Chrissy,” he says mischievously, rubbing one hand over her ass.

“Are you serious right now?” she repeats with a gasp.

“You know the word.”

“Oh, for fu–at least let me up off the carpet.” She’s wriggling in his hands and he’s already getting hard.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to punish you first.”

Her pussy clenches a little as his hand dips below the waistband of her shorts, pushing them down to the tops of her thighs. “Eddie,” she whines.

“It’s too late for that, I’m afraid,” he says dramatically, and she sees the shadow of his arm as he rears back. “The hand is your only absolution.”

Her eyes widen. “I’m pretty sure that’s blasphem–oh!” His hand comes down with a crack across one butt cheek, following closely with the other, rubbing the supple pink skin. The shockwaves go directly to her clit, and she can’t hide the groans and pants as he continues. “You’re a damn sadist, you know that?”

“I’m the sadist?” he asks, shifting so he can turn her over on her back. “You’re the one being bratty in such tiny shorts, sweetheart.” He holds out a hand, and she chuckles and shakes her head as she accepts it. But instead of helping her up, he dives for her waist, snatching her off the floor and over his shoulder.

“Oh, my God!” she yells, slapping at his back as he lets loose a goofy evil laugh. “Put me down, you barbarian!”

“Ooh, haven’t heard that one in a while!” He tosses her onto the clear side of the bed, tongue half sticking out as he smiles, removing his shirt.

“You’re incorrigible,” she breathes as he settles over her.

His brow furrows. “Damn, all these big words, when did we move on from science to english, missy?” She laughs as he kisses her, breaking contact only when he’s got a fistful of her hair to tug on, exposing her neck to his lips.

“Eddie, I really have to study.”

“Nope, this is break time.” Her eyes cross a little as he rolls his groin into hers, rubbing at her clit. “Wanna make you feel good first.”

“I thought I was being punished,” she counters somewhat mockingly, so he tugs harder to make her squeal.

“You are, just give me a minute, Christ,” he groans, and she laughs. “Oh, you’re laughing at me now? When will you learn?”

She shrugs, pulling her shirt up. “Guess you’re just not being rough enough.”

He helps her remove it, kneads her breasts in his hands before slapping one. She slaps his arm with an offended scoff, instantly gasping at that fatal mistake. His face is blank but his eyes dance as he side-eyes her, narrowing them when she giggles. “Oops.”

“Okay, that’s it,” he says simply, grabbing both wrists and pinning them above her head with one hand. And yet, she’s still laughing. “Chrissy, seriously, what the fuck has gotten into you today?”

She can tell he’s actually annoyed, but she can’t stop laughing. “I don’t know, I guess nothing matters. I mean, if I don’t pass, I’m dead. My future’s over and who knows what my mom will do because I’ve never failed before. And if you don’t pass, we don’t get to graduate together and you’ll be stuck even longer in this town and I know you hate it here, and if you fail it’ll be my fault. So it’s like…nothing matters until those tests are over.”

By the end, no one’s laughing. Her words trail off at the serious expression on his face, and she looks off to the side but he grabs her chin, so she closes her eyes.

“You know none of that’s true, right?" he asks softly. "Hey.” She opens her eyes with a sigh, her stomach flipping as he tucks her hair behind her ear. “Chrissy, I’ve always had trouble with school, and you’re not the first person to try and help me.” He pauses. “You have been the most successful though.” His smile makes the corners of her lips turn up, but there’s still a tinge of sadness. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine no matter what. And you? You’re not gonna fail, baby.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if you don’t have the contents of those books fucking memorized after today, I’ll be amazed,” he says, ending on a laugh as she chuckles. She leans into his touch as he caresses her cheek. “Everything will turn out. Okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

“And if your mom tries anything, you know you’re always welcome to stay here.” He leans up, her chest aching at the loss of contact as he grabs his shirt. He’s about to say more until he notices her dainty fingers on his belt buckle, looks up to see the longing in her eyes.

“Aren’t you gonna finish me off?”

Her little voice goes straight to his dick and he dives back down to her, claiming her mouth as they work to remove her shorts. They’re still kissing as he shoves his jeans and boxers down, rolls on the condom, and she lines him up herself as he sinks inside her. She gasps at the small pinch of pain and he lets her adjust, pressing her down into the mattress to lay flat.

He fucks her thoroughly, and she moans loudly as he rolls his hips again until she comes, wailing. He turns her on her side, slides back in as if his life depends on it, her hand resting over his on her hip as he pounds her. Her toes curl as he pulls out again, pulling her to her hands and knees and taking her from behind.

He holds her by her arms for a bit but it’s not enough, pulling her up off the mattress, one hand tweaking a nipple as the other rubs her clit and she whimpers his name. “I know, babygirl, I know. One more.”

She comes clenching around him, and he lowers her hips as he keeps going. He works her on his cock, pulling her back to meet each thrust as they both scream. They fall to the mattress as he climaxes, pressing into her as she milks him, making him whine as he kisses between her shoulder blades.

Once he’s recovered, Eddie gets up and walks to the bedroom door, her confusion replaced with laughter as he returns with the flashcards she dropped there. He lays behind her as they review them, Chrissy relaxing into the curve of his body.

Like putty in his hands.

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

I'm on a cruise right now so of course I'm thinking about my blorbos going on a cruise too. Idk why maybe there's wraith demons aboard a particular ship and the company is trying to cover it up. The point is: Nuns on a Boat. I'm sure the Vatican forks over the necessary funds, probably for a week-long trip, enough time to investigate, plan, execute, and clean up. The original plan was to send a small team of two or three, but Ava probably pesters the new Pope into paying for the whole gang to go (she definitely plays the Jesus card).

It goes like this: the official OCS sisters enter as a group of 4 (Mother, Camila, Yasmine, and Dora) while the remaining 4 split into 2 pairs, Avatrice undercover as newlyweds on a honeymoon (it's good practice for the real thing, Bea!) and Mary riding as a solo passenger (hiding Lilith in her room). They probably have a contact in the ship's crew that sneaks them keycards and pass codes to restricted areas and makes arrangements for them to be in the right place at the right time for recon purposes. I don't know what the demons are doing, maybe planning some kind of mass possession within an enclosed space, but whatever it is will require asskicking through overpriced shops and probably flinging several pool chairs around to solve.

Assorted ideas:

1. The list of shore excursions has to be pried from Ava's hands by Mary because The Second Coming of Christ canNOT be trusted with them. Not because she doesn't know what she's doing, but because if they let her go unchecked she'll have their days booked 6 ways to the Sabbath with several activities overlapping each other. Baby girl wants to do EVERYTHING, time constraints be damned!

2. Beatrice is a little nervous about their cover story, not because she doesn't love Ava or doesn't see them getting married eventually, but because she's still battling some shame about being affectionate in public. This is, of course, in stark contrast to Ava, who is ecstatic over the chance to be shamelessly close to Bea with the tacit excuse of the mission. She drags them to every couple-y event aboard the ship and has no qualms about basically climbing her girlfriend whenever she can get away with it.

3. The God Squad is properly outfitted for just about every situation that could come up, and that includes swimming. For the actual nuns in the party, this means tasteful one-pieces that still earn respectful wolf whistles from Ava and the requisite number of sexy nun jokes. Ava wears a predictably tiny bikini that drives the boys and girls wild while Bea wears a more modest two-piece that drives Ava wild. Mary draws all the attention in her suit that shows off her killer arms and excellent abs. Lilith has to be coaxed into her suit because she's self-conscious. Jillian has probably come up with some way to either reverse or hide her scales, but the result is probably a lot of burn tissue that is difficult to conceal. Ava buys her a long-sleeve swim shirt with some silly design that Lilith threatens her life over but wears anyway.

4. Circling back to the excursions, an argument breaks out about which they should do, and whether they should stick together or split up. It gets a little heated until Mother shuts it down with "We will be doing the dolphin swim and that's final." "But why that one?" "Because I want to do the dolphin swim."

5. Ava is banned from the ship buffet after the third time she tries to dispense ice cream directly into her mouth

6. Camila gets a lot of attention from the fellas, and she gets permission from a quietly proud Mother to indulge them so long as she gets more information for the mission

7. Yasmine sweeps the trivia contests, winning all manner of silly knickknack prizes that she cherishes.

8. We don’t know much about Dora but I'm going to assume that she’s a prodigy in mini golf and collects a following of children who ooo and aaa every time she hits a hole-in-one. She and Mary clown on the competition in shuffleboard

9. Some guy sees Ava by herself (Bea is probably getting them ice cream since she's not banned) and attempts to shoot his shot. It's Ava, unfairly charming and distressingly cute, so he's practically bewitched two sentences into the conversation, but Ava's just being her normal, puppy self. Bea sees them and starts getting jealous, threatening to crush her ice cream cone to bits, but when Ava sees her coming back, she lights up with a "heeeyyy Boo-Bear, there you are! I missed you!" And immediately abandons the dude to press against her girlfriend. The guy makes brief eye contact with Bea before wisely choosing to walk away. Better luck next time, bro.

10. The tables turn when Beatrice is lounging in the sun while Ava is away (probably pestering Lilith) and an interested lady sits next to her and starts making small talk. Beatrice is extremely polite and doesn't quite pick up on the fact she's being flirted with, but Lilith has to punch Ava in the arm to stop her lighting up like an angry glowstick at the sight. Ava does march over there though and turns the puppy energy up to 11, wrapping her arms around Beatrice, nuzzling their cheeks together and pressing in until she's basically in Bea's lap. Bea is flustered and embarrassed, but the lady catches on to what's what and gracefully makes her exit. Ava drags Bea to their room for some quality time while Lilith does her best to look like she doesn't know them.

[elliepassmore]

Tales of the Celestial Kingdom review

5/5 stars Recommended if you like: fantasy, magic, short stories, xianxia fantasy, Daughter of the Moon Goddess

Daughter of the Moon Goddess review

Heart of the Sun Warrior review

Big thanks to Netgalley, Delacorte, and the author for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!

I was so excited to get approved for this! It was one of my most anticipated releases of the year, and let me say it does not disappoint.

The book is split into three sections, each with a set of short stories. Dusk takes place prior to DotMG, Twilight takes place during the events of DotMG and HotSW, and Dawn takes place after the ending of the duology.

Dusk is an overarching story told in three chapters, alternating between Chang'e and Houyi's POVs, and telling a reimagining of the Mood Goddess myth. I really liked getting a glimpse into their mortal lives and how they fit together prior to everything that happened in the Celestial Kingdom duology. We get to know Chang'e through Xingyin's eyes in the duology, and I liked getting things from Chang'e's POV here and seeing how fiercely she'll fight for those she loves. I also think Houyi's chapter humanized him somewhat and gave a glimpse into the kinds of things he enjoyed and the way he felt about his duty as an archer for the king.

Twilight has 4 stories in it told from various POVs and can be informally split into a section for 'things that happened during DotMG' and 'things that happened in HotSW.' The first story is from Liwei's POV and is a cute story of him and Xingyin going to get the snow ginseng root for the empress. I enjoyed the lightness of the story and getting insight into Liwei's tumultuous feelings regarding Xingyin and his own duty as heir to the Celestial Kingdom. The second story is told from Wenzhi's POV and details how he and Xingyin lured and battled with the Bone Devil, a powerful creature that escaped imprisonment. It was an interesting contrast to see Liwei's regard for Xingyin and Wenzhi's regard for her back-to-back, and how they're similar and different. I definitely feel more sympathetic toward Wenzhi after this short story and feel it gives a better understanding for why he was doing certain things.

The third story in this section is from Shuxiao's POV and takes place in book 2 when she goes with some of the Cloud Wall warriors to liberate the Celestial Court prisoners. I liked this one a lot because Shuxiao is a friend to Xingyin but isn't a character we get to know too much about, so it was nice seeing things from her POV. She's extremely loyal to Xingyin, which comes through here. She's also an excellent strategist and I liked seeing how she led battle/raids. There was also some good banter in this one that I found enjoyable. The final story in this set is again from Liwei's POV and takes place during the last chapter and epilogue of HotSW. In it we get a chance to see Liwei as emperor and how he's changed from when he and Xingyin were younger. He's definitely more benevolent than his father, but he also has complicated feelings for everything that went down in HotSW and before. I liked seeing Liwei in a more complex light and getting to know more of his inner thoughts and feelings about things.

Dawn is the last part of the book and is an extended epilogue to the duology. The first story is from Wenzhi/Zhao's POV and tells of his and Xingyin's first outing together with him as a mortal. His thoughts and feelings are so similar to his earlier chapter, but at the same time they feel slightly different as his time as a mortal (and lack of memories of being Celestial/Demon) have changed him. The second story in this section is from Xingyin's POV and tells of her and Wenzhi's life together. It's a nice HEA for them both and I liked seeing how in love they still were with each other, even with Wenzhi being sentenced to mortality until he proved himself.

Overall I enjoyed this collection of stories and feel it added to the duology. It was nice seeing things from other characters' POVs and I liked getting some additional background information on Chang'e and Houyi, as well as some additional closure for Xingyin and Wenzhi. I definitely recommend!

[rondo-of-blog]

Holy Seven Subscriptions, Batman!

So I’ve been reading a lot of comics lately. Like, a lot of comics. I’ve been going out on a limb, and honestly? It’s paid off! Yes, I’ve gotten to read solid comic book storytelling recently - and lots of it. And what do I have to show for it?

Seven different subscriptions to DC comics series, and one to a Marvel comic series. :’)

[Spoilers for various comics! If you see the title of a book you don’t wanna get spoiled on, leave!]

If you’ve been following me for the past several months, you’ve probably heard me rave about the current ongoing Catwoman comic series as it’s been written by Tini Howard. You’ve probably also heard me blab about the latest Harley Quinn series since Tini Howard took it over. Both comics are absolute delights that I’ve had a blast with, but that I’ve also talked at length about, so… won’t be going into that. Not this time, at least.

And that includes you, Betsy Braddock: Captain Britain, also written by Tini Howard!

So what does that leave us? Well, why don’t we start with Batman! Written by Chip Zdarsky. At this point I really should start expecting it, but I keep being surprised by just how dang much I’m enjoying myself with this series! It’s got action, it’s got Batman coming down from the Moon to land back on Earth, it’s got it all!

With stories as convoluted as the series has been telling, I really would’ve thought it all would’ve come unraveled several issues ago—after all, how the hell could a story take Batman to the Moon, back to Earth, into another damn dimension, rapidly jumping through several damn dimensions, and then back to whatever we call main Earth??? By doing it all very well, apparently!

Next we have Poison Ivy, which I read on the glowing recommendation of my partner in life and in love, Cluster! I spent weeks telling them I’d get around to reading it eventually, then one day this past week I went and read all 13 issues that’re out right now. And what’s there to say about them? Well…

They’re great! They’re all fucking great! I’ve never blown through 13 issues so quickly, but G. Willow Wilson had such an impressive story to tell that I couldn’t stop for anything. Pamela’s great in it, so is Harley when she eventually shows up, and so is… Batman! Didn’t know he’d be part of this series, but it works!

G. Willow Wilson is another writer, like Tini Howard, where whenever I see her write a character I just want to see her write them all the time. I dunno, if perhaps they could just hand the keys to the whole damn DC Universe to these gals I think we’d be onto something!

Besides that, Cluster and I finally said “what the hell” and read through all 9 issues that’re currently out of The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing. The verdict?

It made us laugh~

To be more specific, Matthew Rosenberg does an excellent job of making a hilarious and entertaining Joker comic series that features a metric fuck-ton of Joker in it. There’s so much of The Joker, there’s actually two men called The Joker in it!… Or three. Well, the third one was impersonating the first one. Or is it the second one?

It’s these sorts of questions that any Joker series worth its seltzer would have readers asking! I’m really glad we’ve taken a chance on this series, after spending months joking about its very silly title that doesn’t seem to actually tie into the story itself so far. We’ll see if there’s any further developments on that front later!

Last month and this month, however, I started on two brand new limited series! Limited series that I wish were ongoing series, and that I hope end up becoming ongoing series when they hopefully do ridiculously-well! I am of course referring to the latest volume of Cyborg, and Steelworks!

For Cyborg, I’m really interested to see where it goes. Morgan Hampton made known his intentions of taking Vic in a direction we’ve not seen before, ahead of issue #1’s release, and the sudden death of Vic’s father Silas proved he meant it.

While Silas died very early on in the original continuity Vic lived in, his presence after the New 52 reboot was used to great effect in David F. Walker’s Cyborg issues. Lots of work was done expanding on their fraught relationship, but it looks like we’ve closed the book on that before it could reach a happy ending… or have we???

There’s a lot to take in, a brief appearance from the Titans that made my heart swell, and overall I felt like the first issue set us up nicely for a damn good story—one that, again, I’d love to see turn into an ongoing series, but we can’t have everything all the time.

Steelworks had another strong beginning with issue #1, which came out… this month! I’d been anticipating it since its initial announcement, and Michael Dorn did not disappoint in the writing department. I’d also like to give a special shoutout to Sami Basri and Andrew Dalhouse for their contributions in the art department (line art and coloring, respectively)!

It’s not every day I get to read a comic that just looks as good as comics used to back when I was taking good comic art for granted, but Steelworks #1 is a damn good-looking comic! With art this solid, there’s nothing interrupting me from getting sucked into the story - and damn if this isn’t the beginning of a story that immediately grabbed me!

Something that’s easy to take for granted, but that not every comic manages to pull off, is telling a story that wins you over on its ideas. Maybe this is just me being picky, but I’ve read a comic or two in the past year that’ve gone really hard on the moral core of a story that I just… really can’t relate to. You’d think superhero comics wouldn’t have such a hard time being relatable to someone who doesn’t want people to spend the rest of their natural lives rotting in prison or whatnot, but you’d be surprised.

Steelworks #1 starts with a bang. With ideas that’re bold, and probably outside the realm of what people usually look for in a superhero comic, but that I can honestly sympathize with. No one comes off as a two-dimensional cardboard cutout, everyone feels real and able to be connected with at least on some level.

It’s a limited series, but if it does well enough? Who knows what could happen. In this case, I don’t know that they could’ve gotten Michael Dorn for longer than just a limited series’ run, so there are benefits to the format!

So yeah. That’s now seven subscriptions to DC comics series, to only one that Marvel’s been able to put out.

Does DC know it doesn’t have to be winning so hard at comics? It would’ve been fine if they were just putting out a couple good series here and there, which I thought they were before I gave these other series a try. Turns out, they’re really putting out some quality shit!

And I still have Superman: The Last Days of Lex Luthor to start picking up next month! Geez!

I’m a very happy camper when it comes to comics, nowadays. Right now, I only have one comic series I pick up every month that routinely and utterly disappoints me. I may end up writing about it on this blog, in lieu of tweeting, what with how its fanbase just loves to tank my mental health with threats & harassment!

Until next time!

---

By the way, you can now read the blog on my website, at https://feliciarondo.com/rondo-of-blog. Check it out! :)

[characternerdocs]

Cont. from Here ||| @chickypoodoodloos

There is also this.

It's unfinished and I wrote it for my book when Heath was orginally going the CasMark by touching an old relic of Kat's but scrapped it for the generation pass down concept instead.

It supposed to be the night after Heath goes the casmark

Sitting up from bed, Heath stretched, arching his back and spreading his arms. Looking around it was still dark, and Logan was still nestled in sleep with Zombie. Heath smiled as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Standing up, he scratched his newly tattooed palm, the mysterious black ink almost tingling. It reminded Heath of the bubbles in sodas or pop rocks, it wasn’t necessary unpleasant, but it was certainly an odd sensation and at four minutes to three, entirely unwanted. Making his way to the door, Heath gently opened it, trying his best to keep its aged hinges from waking his bed partners as he exited. He made his way through the narrow hall and down the winding steps, his intended destination the kitchen for a quick bowl of midnight cereal. Passing through the living room Heath entered the small kitchen. After grabbing a bowl from a cabinet and a spoon from a drawer, he wandered into the pantry to pour himself about one-third of his bowl full of peanut buttery cereal. Finally he went over the fridge and took out the milk, adding a generous splash into his bowl. Closing the fridge Heath saw that a light was on over at the other house. His stomach dropped; it was Heather. Often, she was get restless, Heather would get up and wander about the residence at odd hours of the night. A habit, Heath noticed, which arose with her insomnia often their years in Glenbrooke. The light wasn’t on when he entered the kitchen; at least, Heath hadn’t noticed it. So he figure Heather must have just gotten up. Heath tapped his spoon anxiously on the bottom of his bowl. It was a crapshoot. A fifty-fifty chance. Would his sister find comfort in his company or would he come off as overbearing? Anxiety washed over him, he didn’t want to smother her with his constant concern. Besides Vincent would find her. He always found her, coming along and soothing her fears. He felt the tingling in his palm again, the urge to scratch moving up to Heath’s wrist like thorny twisted vines. He tried to shake off the feeling absently. He’s sister was alone and probably worried and as anxious as he was. And if she was sitting in the kitchen like him, she need someone to make sure she was already; and staying away from  playing with the knife set. In bare feet, Heath stepped out on to the small porch of the loft and down its narrow wooden steps to make the short trip across the dew cover yard to the other house. Arriving at the other door, he knocked, it was the coded knock that he and Heather had, his a soft rap-a-tap. Hers in contract was a brigade of banging she swear had a pattern and never failed to make Heath jump out of his skin everything she used it. He waited, but there was no response from the other side. He knocked again, trying to put more force beyond his wrist this time. Yet after a few second there was still no response. Heath turned the door handle. It was unlocked, it usually was since Vincent locked the front door and gate, along with sentenals of the shadows and Gwyllgi and Mounds to act as the household’s guard dogs at night. Cracking the door open, Heath stuck his head into the darkened hallway. The light from the kitchen still glowed like a beacon to him and he could hear a set of voices chatting from inside. Vincent’s got it cover. Heath thought as he had started to close the door, when her realized, both voice were female, and neither were Heather’s. Quickly panic started to set in again, and against his better judgement he heard himself call out, “Hello?” A cold shock shoot through him. Oh god, what had he done that. He should have slammed the door and booked it back to the loft. Vincent and Heather would have been alerted by the slam and then he could have gone to Logan. He still had time to do just that. He felt his muscles tense in preparation when one of the voices called out. “We’re in here, Heath.” Heath was taken aback. That voice, it was so calm and familiar. Every thought of fleeing melted from his mind as he step through the doorway and timidly made his way into the kitchen. Poking he’s head around the corner, Heath paused in disbelief. “M-Moms?” Kat smiled at her son as Sloan jumped to her feet to embrace Heath in a rib crushing hug. “Oh Heath, my little knave. Look at you!” She pulled out of the embrace to cups Heath’s face in both of her hands. “you’re so grown up.” Placing his hand over Sloan’s, Heath smiled as a tear streaked down his cheek. “Mom? Maw? What- How are you here?”

[lunarcovehq]

WHITE ELEPHANT WRAP UP - PART 2

The first chaos plot drop will be posted in just a minute, but before it is, we did want to post a gift wrap-up. Below is a full breakdown of all of the gifts that were given during the White Elephant Party and who they ended up going home with. This will be in two parts as as there were so many gifts.

GIFT #26: from Bri, inside you find: This gift is three presents wrapped in pink wrapping paper & tied together with a white bow. The first present has instructions on the outside of the package warning the individual not to shake it as it is fragile and will break. Inside the first present, is a glass case with a pink rose that is an ode to Beauty and the Beast. Inside the glass case is another little box containing a set of numbers. Are they coordinates? Are they a key code? What the numbers are for are only for the owner of this gift to know. In the second present, you will find a detailed book nook book end. The book end is of a library of another famous novel being of that of the Great Gatsby. The third present comes with a card. Inside the card is a note that says "Dearest Reader, you have been gifted with a once in a lifetime opportunity to pick the theme of Cabaret for next month. You can select any musical of your choice, but it must be an existing musical (Happy Feet does not count- looking at you, Mason). You will also have a chance to select an activity to be held at Cabaret that goes along with the chosen musical (i.e. Murder Mystery Dinner for The Mystery of Edwin Drood). What Musical would you like to be transported into next month? - Xoxo, B". Within the final gift, is a vampire funkopop wearing a pink beret hat- an ode to the Vampire Garlic shaker Bri was unable to win last year at White Elephant that she is totally not still salty about or anything.

Ended up with - Julian

GIFT #27 from JC, inside you find: A season membership to the Providence Bruins, featuring two reserved seats at all home games, special events including skating with the team, and game day perks, such as the opportunity for scoreboard messages and team store discounts.

Ended up with - Linden

GIFT #28 from Rae Elle, inside you find: In a nice bag with evergreen trees on it; it's festive but not holiday specific, and it's got a decent weight to it. Inside, there's a journal that contains several hand drawn maps of the country, with close ups and details about specific places; it's essentially a travel guide. Towards the back there are newer entries that include places around Lunar Cove, both in the woods and in town, that the owner of the journal clearly finds interesting. There's also a few gift cards tucked inside for places around town: Blush Boutique, Broken Record, the Daily Drip, and End of the Line.

Ended up with - Eren

GIFT #29 from Ralph, inside you find: A signed baseball to Marty from Buzz Aldrin. It is a mystery who Marty is, why an astronaut was signing baseballs, or if it's even authentic.

Ended up with - Safiye

GIFT #30 from Meena, inside you find: A sleek black stack of envelopes with a gold pressed seals. In the first envelope, there is a handwritten letter that says "The Heart of the Ocean will be yours on one condition. You and your chosen partner must follow all of the instructions in this envelope without question to receive your prize- a sapphire necklace inlayed with hundreds of diamond that is inspired by the Heart of the Ocean from the movie Titanic and the Hope Diamond. The necklace at auction is estimated to be worth around ten million dollars give or take. Do you chose to accept your prize?". If you accept it, you can proceed to open the next envelope. Inside is the gift of being able to have any outfit from the movie Titanic custom created for you and your fellow adventurer. You must go to a wardrobe fitting to have your garments created. After such, you can open envelope three. Inside envelope three, you will find two boarding passes to the Titanic Museum in Pigeon Forge, TN. You will have the museum to yourselves and are tasked with recreating one scene from the movie while you are there. You will be able to spend the night within the museum and all of your travel and accommodations will be covered. Inside envelope four, you will find that you and your fellow adventurer have been signed up to model to get your portraits drawn (clothing is optional) as you are painted like the french girls you know you are deep down. Envelope five is addressed to your fellow adventurer for them to open alone. Inside envelope five, your companion, whoever it is you have chosen, can decide whether they want to take the final prize being the $10M dollar necklace for themselves or let you have it. Your fellow adventurer is then instructed to find Meena where she will gift either your chosen companion or you with the expensive necklace that you may wear or sell and the adventure/your gift will come to an end. If you want to sell the necklace, Meena can also help facilitate that as well so that you or your companion can walk away with $10M in cash instead. Let the games begin!

Ended up with - Ralph

GIFT #31 from Safiye, inside you find: The wrapping paper around the gift is different Christmas themed food. Inside is an assortment of different food related items items such as a pizza blanket, pizza socks, bacon bandaids, a bread pillow, light saber chopsticks, and a heart shaped waffle maker.

Ended up with - Leyla

GIFT #32 from Culver, inside you find: Art is in the eye of the beholder? Meet Toothtail. This handmade necklace depicts a rabbit (?), crafted out wire and other bits and bobs. It is suitable for wearing or pulling out of a hat, so long as you mind its edges. In the presence of certain witches, its eyes and mouth even animate (which is funny).

Ended up with - Kitty