#sprout club journal

[bugsnax-community-questions]

Bugsnax Community Questions ~ Poll #25

Put filbo, eggabell and the others in one option because there aren't enough slots to fit everyone.

FILBO: Basic Furniture, Dandelion, Cot (secret), Grumpy Baby Mayor, Pawprint rug, Cloudy paws print, painted hut, Group Photo, Streamers, Garden gnome, snaxburg flag, Golden Strabby, Certificate of completion

WAMBUS: Scarecrow, beechwood, Sauce plant seedlings, Sauce rug, Rustic Bed, Mini Cactriffy, Grow light nursery, Wood panel print, cowboy hats, ceiling fan

BEFFICA: Sleeping bag, Ladder Shelf, bestie print, Bestie (exterior), Fuzzy heart rug, Privacy curtains, Bulletin board, glowing stars, purple lupin, befficas journal, Kiddie pool (technically from floofty)

WIGGLE: Hanging lights, Luxury bed (secret), Gilded (Secret), record player, Palm tree, Platinum Award, Beach Chair + Umbrella, Armoire, Music print, Rock club sign, Psychedelic rug

TRIFFANY: Map of Snaktooth, Drafting Table, Prehistoric Floorcloth, Grumpus Skull, Giant skeleton, Barrel cacti, Dig site print, hanging pots, ancient bugsnax statue 1 (pinkle), ancient bugsnax statue 2 (incherito), Bone and Stone (exterior), Bone and stone bed

GRAMBLE: Lantern, Pink oleander, Weather Vane, Knit Sprout Mat, Hay bales, knit bed, Strabby Hat, Doily Table, knitted (exterior), knit baskets, Strabby print, Bunger bed

CROMDO: Tulips, Police tape (Secret), Bug juice dispenser, Big safe, A single hanging bulb, boombox, money print rug, worn mattress, billboard, Motivational poster, Antique print

SNORPY: Loose Newspaper, Conspiracy board, Blueprint print, Protective coat hangers, Metal plating (exterior), Metalworks flower, Satellite dish, deprivation tank, bookshelf, HAM radio, hot tub

CHANDLO: Red Cedar, Framed jersey, Rock climbing holds, Strong trophy, Hammock, Bean bag, Orange bloodroot, Home gym (secret), Sports print (secret), Gym mats, chandlolier,

FLOOFTY: red ti plant, lab bench (secret), Specimen jar, Pirate ship (exterior), Beheading machine, ecience poster, chemistry rug, test tube lights, science print, Chalkboard

SHELDA: Hanging Planter, Herbology station, Primitive grass, Salt crystal, ebony stained wood, zen garden, Meditation cushion, Prairie grass, wind chimes, desert print, torch

EGGABELL: Family Photos, Eggshell print, medical egg rug, Medicine cabinet, Emergency bell, First aid kit, Draped fabrics, igloo (exterior), snow grump, medical bed

OTHER: Cowboy hat roof (Cactriffy), Planted snak (Cactriffy), Snak print (L), Strabby Shelf (L), Snakgoyle (Snaxsquatch), Matilija Poppy (Snaxsquatch), Eyes (exterior ~ B), Legendary snak rug (B), Snak mobile (C), Sodie Fountain (C)

[p1x13-dust]

7 March 2024; A Rainy Day and a Reading Addiction

I did NOT want to get out of bed this morning. It was really comfy. But, alas, I had to (wanted to) go to class. To reward myself, I started reading Ravensong by TJ Klune on the bus to school. Anyway, here's what I did today:

Talked to my supervisor about scheduling work over Spring break (I don't have to).

Sent an email to my school's English advisor about a question I had over next semester's classes.

Attended 3 lectures.

Send out a meeting reminder for my club.

Started configuring my schedule for next semester.

Worked on my class journals for this week.

Goals for tomorrow:

Get packed for Spring break.

Attend a virtual club meeting.

Send out posts for my clubs.

Begin some grading (if I feel like it).

Work on this one post for my club.

Final Thoughts:

Today I took the bus to school. As I waited for it to take me home, it was raining. I looked around at the trees, sprouting bright lime green leaves. I saw the people huddled together under umbrellas; the love displayed when one guy held an umbrella between him and (I presume) a friend - the umbrella covering the friend slightly more than the umbrella-holder. People rushed in between buildings as the wind blew the rain in one direction or another, seeking shelter under fully leaved trees or covered entrances. There was laughter in the air. This, to me, is what living and learning is about: seeing how us humans connect with one another throughout time and space. It doesn't matter if these experiences are fleeting or everlasting, they simply are.

[bethestaryouareradio]

2024 Garden Goals

Hope and faith flower from the cheerful seeds of the old year to the sprouting garden of the new year's dawn. ~Terri Guillemets

By February, most of the resolutions made on January 1st have been waylaid. Our dreams of losing weight, becoming more organized, and being better might have already turned into nightmares. If we want to be triumphant in life, we need to make conscientious changes, or else we are doomed to stagnation. February is the perfect month to create our year’s gardening goals. If we do a little at a time, step by step, and commit to success, we will achieve our landscaping goals. There is a saying, “By the inch, it’s a cinch.” Choose one or two goals per month and make it happen. The only way to predict the future is to create it. To become a better gardener, we need to be flexible, adopt innovative ideas, and learn from our mistakes. Whatever your level of gardening expertise, you will benefit from several of these suggestions. Get going, get growing.

Keep Track

Whether you write in a notebook or create a digital diary, journaling about what’s happening in your landscape will be a valuable resource.

Be Inquisitive

Don’t be afraid to go to your local nursery to ask questions. Talk to gardeners you admire: your grandmother, a neighbor, or even a total stranger. There are no dumb questions. Gardeners are flattered to share their knowledge.

Grow the world.

Whether it’s planting an emerging specimen or experimenting with garden art, try something new. Go global and experience a specimen from another part of the planet.

Keep on Learning

To educate means to draw forth. Take a class, read a book, join a garden club, attend a lecture, watch a documentary, or surf the internet. Whatever gives you pleasure in learning, go to a place of discovery and growth. Educate yourself.

Be a mentor

Many gardeners developed their passion for the earth (including myself) by following a parent, friend, or relative through the garden. Share your knowledge through example and offer your insights to neighbors and friends, and especially to inquisitive children.

Take a Stroll

Walk through your garden every day to witness the changes. You don’t have to necessarily do anything more than enjoy the serenity. By actively seeing and listening to your garden, you’ll be able to spot problems, find the perfect location for the new birdhouse, and receive the benefits of natural exercise.

Embrace Composting

Nothing will enhance your garden more than regularly adding organic matter to your soil. Composting is so simple once you get in the habit. I keep a five-gallon bucket inside my garage and right outside my kitchen. Add coffee grinds, eggshells, tea bags, shredded newsprint, wood ashes, vegetable scraps, and anything biodegradable. Lawn clippings, leaves, wood shavings, and weeds can all be mixed into a compost pile or bin. Don’t include meat, dog and cat excrement, or diseased plants. If you have chickens or rabbits, their droppings are gold for the garden. Chicken manure needs to be aged for two to three years or it will burn your plants. Turn your compost pile every few months and when it smells earthy and crumbles like chocolate cake, spread it around your plants.

Make a list

When you make a weekly to-do list of what you need to do in your garden, you can do a little each day, and check off the tasks as you have the time. You’ll feel exhilarated by accomplishing one or two small chores in an hour here and an hour there. No need to spend the entire weekend laboring in the yard. Instead, take time for a barbeque or sit under a tree with a good book to relax and enjoy nature.

Mulch for Garden Health

By maintaining a three-inch covering of mulch, you’ll reduce erosion, maintain ground temperature, suppress weeds, conserve water, and prevent disease. Leaves, pine needles, shredded bark, wood chips, and even gravel offer these benefits while beautifying and unifying the look of your landscape.

Take Pictures

Having the advanced cameras in our smartphones, it is easy to photograph our gardens. Take photos in every season for better record keeping as well as to document the years. It’s amazing how quickly our gardens change and evolve. My library now holds over 40,000 photos from my garden!

       11. Treasure Trees

In 2023, the U.S. Forest Service reported that 36.3 million trees died in California in 2022 from drought, insects, and disease. Care for the trees you already have and if you have the space, plant a tree that you’ve always wanted. Trees combat global warming, absorb CO2, provide oxygen, clean our air, cool our environments, conserve energy, prevent erosion, supply nourishment, offer play spaces, grant shade, and increase the value of our land.

       12. Bee Friendly

Make your garden attractive to birds, bees, butterflies, and bats and you’ll enjoy a healthy, happy landscape. Provide pollen-rich food, shelter, water, and landing places for beneficial visitors.

 Forget Perfection

My motto has always been “failure is fertilizer’. There are no mistakes in the garden. If you plant something and it doesn’t grow, don’t lament. Throw the plant on the compost pile and grow a new garden. Keep in mind that Mother Nature is always in charge. The birds, bees, wind, and wildlife will always be introducing something to your design that you did not plan. Strive for excellence but deep six the idea of ‘perfection’ or you’ll be deeply disappointed.

Gardening is good for you. Gardening boosts morale, lowers your grocery bill, and is a free fitness center. Sprout a new year’s garden with hope, faith, and garden goals. A garden’s best crop is happiness. Plant some today.

And don’t forget to the give the gift of flowers or plants on Love Day, February 14th!

Happy Gardening. Happy Growing. Happy Valentine’s Day!

For more gardening advice for all seasons, check out Growing with the Goddess Gardenerat https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/books. Raised in the vineyards of Napa County, Cynthia Brian is a New York Times best-selling author, actor, radio personality, speaker, media and writing coach as well as the Founder and Executive Director of Be the Star You Are!® 501 c3. Tune into Cynthia’s StarStyle® Radio Broadcast at www.StarStyleRadio.com. Her newest children’s picture book, Family Forever, from the series, Stella Bella’s Barnyard Adventures is available now at https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/online-store. Hire Cynthia for writing projects, garden consults, and inspirational lectures. Cynthia@GoddessGardener.com 

Reading Digging Deep with the Goddess Gardener:https://www.lamorindaweekly.com/archive/issue1725/Digging-Deep-with-Goddess-Gardener-Cynthia-Brian-Garden-goals-for-2024.html

Photos on Substack: https://cynthiabrian.substack.com/p/2024-garden-goals?

[ringwoodhawksdigitalmedia]

Week 2: Design three marketing graphic templates to be used by your partner club for social media posts.

Critical Analysis: 273 words

The four above graphics were designed for the Ringwood Hawks, a basketball team competing in NBL1. All were created using Canva, designing these graphics helped us learn more about elements such as alignment, balance, contrast, symmetry and repetition. It also assisted us with the colouring and spacing when creating graphics for a specific sporting team. For example, Ringwood’s colours are green and black, so those colours must be utilised in the graphic. We also were able to understand more about emphasis and negative space on the page and the importance of those two elements when designing a graphic.    

The purpose of these would be to attract and engage fans. Internet consumption has grown rapidly over recent times (Garett et al., 2016). From a business perspective, it also can boost the team's image as they want their content to be quality for its fans. So, the employment of social media to maximise fan engagement would be a smart move by any sporting team or club, as it can help the business aspect of the team as well (Barnhart, 2020).      

This type of media can enhance fans experience because it allows them to gain further insight into the team's processes and operations. As well as view exclusive content that only social media can offer. The internet today enables organisations and consumers to be connected at all times (Fortuna, 2015). Essentially, having a well develop social media with quality digital productions will greatly enhance a consumers experience with your page. And keep them followed or subscribed to your page to see continue to see your content.    

References

Barnhart, B. (2020, August 11). How to use social media in sports to keep fans engaged. Sprout Social, https://sproutsocial.com/insights/social-media-in-sports/  

Fortuna, C. (2015). Digital Media Literacy in a Sports, Popular Culture and Literature Course. Journal of Media Literacy Education, 6(3), 81 – 89, https://doi.org/10.23860/jmle-6-3-8  

Garett, R. Chiu., J. Zhang, L., & Young, S. (2016). A literature Review: Website Design and user Engagement. Online J Commun Media Technol, 6(3), 1–14, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4974011/    

[svptrabodi-blog]

HOW TO IMPROVE YOUR WRITING SKILLS: QUICK TIPS BY EXPERIENCED WRITERS

With the assistance of our carefully prepared editors, staff scholars, and our Supervisor in-Boss,  we have accumulated a few speedy tips and exhortation on the most proficient method to further develop your composing abilities. Figure out all you really want to be aware of overhauling your abilities!

Frequently we can't help thinking about how we can further develop composing abilities, be it for creating more traffic to our web journals, getting a simple An in the school papers, or composing a persuading mail to HR. Whether you are an understudy, a functioning proficient, a parttime blogger, or even irredeemable heartfelt, marvelous composing abilities can make all the difference!

In this tech insane reality where texts and messages are the new cool, it turns out to be considerably more critical to convey your thoughts through your writing in a more powerful manner. Further developing your composing abilities can assist you with making better school papers, draft better request for employment messages, compose articles to get distributed on the web, or further develop your general relational abilities. Subsequently, the inquiry emerges, how might we compose better?

The most effective method to Further develop Your Composing Abilities

Maybe, you have run over different counsel on the most proficient method to further develop your composing abilities? Nonetheless, there are two manners by which you can further develop composing abilities, leading the drawn out techniques, such as perusing, taking a few internet based courses, and so on to improve your abilities over the long run. Furthermore, we have consolidated a couple of fast tips that will assist you with drafting a cleaned review. How about we start with the basic propensities which will improve your abilities.

1. Read, Read, and Read

Yes, you heard it right! Reading is the best way one can perfect one’s writing. The more you read, the better you know about the subject matter, the vocabulary associated with it, and the facts. Even reading fiction novels can help a lot to understand different writing styles and help you develop your own. Most of the people including our editors and teammates agree on this. Make sure to take note of the application of writing techniques used by different authors. A goal to finish reading one novel in a week can work like magic and will leave you with new words and phrases that can come in handy later.

2. Take Online Courses

Nowadays we have a variety of online courses accessible to further develop composing abilities. We approach short courses, long courses, both neglected and paid. Yet, in particular, you really want to comprehend your prerequisites regarding whether you need to learn scholastic composition, business composing, publishing content to a blog, or composing for the end goal of promoting. Then, you can pick a course that suits your necessities. A couple of well known sites for taking these internet based courses are Udmey, edX, Lynda, Coursera, and so on.

3. Write Something Everyday

Composing on your number one themes is a pleasant method for understanding how to further develop your composing abilities. It has its own advantages. For example, you don't have severe cutoff times, you are allowed to pick a subject of your decision, and you don't need to battle the feeling of dread toward judgment. The thought is to continue to compose consistently. According to our manager Sahana, "Compose each and every day, regardless of anything. This gets you in a position to be more self-intelligent and get the clearness that you were absent."

4. Writing Workshops or Clubs

A few dynamic composing bunches have composing contests and studios for sprouting journalists once in a while. You can share your thoughts and gain alternate points of view in a composing club. Or then again you can begin with state-level rivalries and move towards public level contests. This gives openness as well as dares one to continue to work on themselves. This is an astonishing method for getting some master guidance on your current working abilities and chalk out regions where more consideration is required, like word decision or sentence arrangement.

5. Maintaining Journals

Keeping up with diaries is a tried strategy to improve composing abilities for fledglings in addition to you can undoubtedly follow your turn of events. All you got to do is go to page 1! You can relaxed investigate your composing styles, examine the issues you are confronting and work on them individually. It consistently imparts trust in oneself and gives you the vibe great element. According to our manager in-boss Shilpa, "Quite possibly of the most ideal way I've tracked down on the most proficient method to further develop your composing abilities is to simply begin composing a diary. Few out of every odd day, however at whatever point you have fascinating contemplations or extraordinary events to expound on. A diary assists you with composing uninhibitedly without the strain of judgment. Moreover, composing consistently keeps you in the propensity and is one of the most outstanding ways of staying away from a creative slump."

Tips on How to Improve Your Writing Skills in Real-Time

So those were some general tips to help hone your craft. Now let’s get into some quick tips you can incorporate in whatever you’re writing today!

1. Do the Research

While talking about how to further develop your composing abilities, concentrated research is one point that would surface pretty much without fail. Research is the spirit of each review, and a well-informed writeup frequently tempts bunches of perusers. Whenever you have settled on a point and make an underlying draft, read about it inside and out, gather significant realities and sources connected with the subject. Make your writeup exceptionally instructive, and offer alternate points of view to further develop your piece with the goal that the peruser doesn't need to search for more.

2. Have Clear Concepts

Going through hours on exploration and gathering a lot of information can get a piece overpowering and one could want to add all the data in one writeup. However, I'd actually recommend you stay away from that and work brilliant. Information show is a precarious region where one should be insightful of how and where the focuses are being added. The most ideal way to not get diverted while composing is to get ready fast plot focuses which can be subsequently utilized as a guide. It keeps the writeup coordinated and to the guide accordingly giving clearness toward the perusers.

3. Get into your Reader’s Head

At the point when you are drafting a writeup you want to focus on your peruser's requirements. Whether it's a blog article or a school exposition, you really want to have a reasonable comprehension of your peruser's assumptions. Attempt to comprehend what they are searching for and how might you give that through your composition. It is no different for messages and instant messages too. Enhancing your article by giving important data is the most effective way to expand your peruser base and make them want more and more.

4. Weave an Enticing Opening

The initial feeling is the last impression subsequently one ought to focus on building an alluring opening. Because of how to further develop your composing abilities, news-casting understudy and our colleague Prerna expresses, "Loads of perusing and guzzling phrases, concentrating on similitude, incongruity, and similarities goes quite far in keeping your perusers snared to your writeup." One can present new representations or begin a review in a cryptic or frightening manner so the perusers anticipate the goal. Getting your perusers curious is one more method for having them stuck to your review. Remember that the title or heading is similarly as significant!

5. Keep it Short

Frequently individuals accept that utilizing extravagant words and lesser-utilized expressions can make one's writeup stick out. Yet, let me come clean with you, that is not the situation in actuality. Except if you are dealing with your postulation or an insightful paper, you can skip utilizing extravagant words and out of the world expressions. Your selection of words assumes a urgent part in determining the destiny of your writeup. Go for words that are utilized in regular discussions. Be specific about the thing you are attempting to project through your writeup. Center around making scaled down sentences, which can be effortlessly figured out by your perusers.

6. Conversational

Discussions go far! Attempt to keep your writeup enthusiastic and a good time for your perusers. At the point when addressed how to further develop your composing abilities, our colleague Brinda said one ought to allow it to stream and communicate all that our heart needs to say. According to on that note our staff essayist Lima, "Instead of utilizing the overstated feeling, embrace the specialty of deconstruction at each highlight begin composing with basic virtuoso". Use words or expressions that you would during a discussion with your companions. Assemble tension, get them curious, ask their thought process. Individuals couldn't want anything more than to get some data on a lighter note. It's a shared benefit for both.

7. Evolve through the Process

Drafting an article or a story is a lively cycle that has various levels. The principal draft, corrections, thorough alters, and afterward at last a story is prepared. "Altering is a significant piece of the creative cycle, nearly as significant as composing the actual draft. The primary thing to do is simply perused your piece out loud. It assists you with tracking down off-kilter sentences or significant piece ones," says Shilpa. It's consistently smart to complete the primary draft at a time and have some time off prior to getting to the correction part. Reexamine the draft with a new headspace so you can assess your writeup with an alternate point of view. Being your own faultfinder and learning through the various stages further develops composing abilities.

8. Grammar and Punctuation

Much focused upon, syntax plays a significant part with regards to composing. Wrong language can straightforwardly influence your notoriety. Be exceptionally cautious with the expressions and sentence development. You can check the language on the web or introduce constant applications like Grammarly on your work area or cell phone. Accentuation is one more region that can change the importance of your sentences in the event that not utilized accurately. Be careful while composing and continue altering.

[benderpoet]

love notes to self, despairing - VII

---

Text only:

hi baby

    can you keep your eyes open

you set your phone's alarm for half an hour later     curl on the couch     hold it in your hands     pressed against your chest     like a stuffed animal that sings and purrs out of nowhere     and makes your ❤ pound so hard

(and you can't remember if having a ❤ was like this before     if this is just what a normal ❤ feels like)

    sweet❤ she has to cancel

you say no problem     fine     whatever     I'll therapist myself?     surely I've clocked enough hours to get the job done

check your phone     and it     (you)     says     calm down     your life is not ruined     calm down calm down calm down     life is always a mess     and loud     and you     can be such a good little self-soother     when you bother to try

    right baby

you slam your fist against     anything not working     keep hitting     hard     and the more you hit things     the more you want to hit things     things that would shatter     things that would say stop     you're ridiculous

and     well     I'm a little worried about your ❤     with this     have you been trying to—

hi baby

    you're not listening to a word I say are you

---

*Originally published by Stay Journal, formerly known as Sprout Club Journal.

[carumens]

Two poems by me are being featured on the Issue 2 of this fantastic online journal and I could be happier with the start of my 2020!!!

[solenelmar]

so !! another poem of mine got published by an online lit journal which i’m so excited about !!

it’s Mad Woman at Issue 1 by Sprout Club Journal + i’m hoping you’ll give the whole issue the chance + go read it bc it’s amazing ! they’re doing such moving + insightful work i’m so grateful they accepted my piece

https://www.sproutclubjournal.com/issueone/mad-woman-by-sol-camarena-medina

please share if you can !

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 31: Free Day

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Words: 9,242

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, sub!reader, dom!Pedro, free use, multiple partners, gang bang, oral sex (m receiving), facial, PIV sex, anal sex, slapping, spanking, pussy spanking, biting, groping (tits and ass), possessive kink, male masturbation, forced orgasm, unprotected sex, i think thats all but if you see something else let me know

A/N: The last one! What was meant to be a month long challenge did in fact take me a full 3 months but the important part is it’s over and I am not dragging it with me into 2022!

This piece was inspired by a dream Lauren ( @queenmylovely ) had involving a secret sex club located in a shopping center (girl what). It inspired a conversation where I basically plotted this whole thing out so I thought it’d be a fun one to write up properly to finish off kinktober, especially cause it hit so many fun kinks lmao.

For as long as you could remember, journalism had been your calling. Your family had multiple stories of you as a young child interviewing them, asking them very seriously what their opinion on dolphins was or if brussels sprouts should be thrown away. And as you got older and learnt how to write and use word art on the family computer, you began to design your own publications. Word documents formatted into columns where you reported on your favourite band, and the repainting of the hopscotch rectangles on the playground at school, and your understanding of real news stories you’d picked up on from snippets of the grown ups conversations. And as you’d grown up and started seriously studying journalism at college, you’d learnt how to go after a story. Journalism wasn’t quite as easy as you’d thought when you were seven and proudly handing your parents an in depth report on your toys. In real life you had to chase stories down – find something people would want to read about and then track down any scrap of information that was out there, convincing people to tell you things and let you quote them. But you were determined to make a name for yourself no matter what it took. Gone were the days of self-publishing newsletters to your family and the kids on the playground. Instead you had the internet at your disposal, a website to update as frequently as you could manage. That’s where you posted your articles. Stories ranging from fluff pieces about the local retiree who successfully completed his sixth marathon to serious columns about the state of the environment. What you really wanted though was something big. Something that would get the attention of everyone around you. Something you could use now that you'd graduated and were applying at real companies to write in real newspapers. And it seemed you had found just the thing. 

A rumour had caught your attention. A tale of an underground sex club that got into some shady stuff. At best it was nothing more than a way to have anonymous, no strings attached sex. But it was suspected to be worse than that and you’d heard much more serious allegations. Naturally, you were determined to follow those rumours, to dig into them and discover the truth for yourself so you could write about it. Your few but loyal readers would want to know as many of the sordid details as you could give them. They’d eat it up, share it, spread it, and you’d soon find job offers flooding your inbox. Of course it wasn’t exactly an iron clad story yet. You’d heard about it from a friend of a friend of a friend and they’d overheard it in a bar. So not the most reliable source. But it was a start. And as you began to look into it, it became more certain. At least, there seemed to be some sort of secret club. No one could tell you where meetings were held or what the club was called but everyone agreed that there was something kinky happening there. And one name had come up repeatedly in your research. Pedro Pascal. You weren’t sure how he was linked but there was definitely a connection and you wanted to meet him. If you could talk to someone on the inside, someone who knew for certain what was going on, it’d blow the story wide open. And, luckily for you, one of the women you’d interviewed in your investigation had been able to give you a lead to track him down. Allegedly, she had been approached by Pascal himself, though she’d turned him down since she was already seeing someone. She gave you the name of the bar and you decided it was your best bet. A quick peruse of their website showed photographs of patrons with drinks in hand, Mr. Pascal caught in the background of at least three of them. It appeared the photos had been taken on different nights which lead you to believe that he was a regular and likely to go back. And that made it the easiest way to make contact. A bit of charm, an offer to buy him a drink and if luck was on your side, by the end of the night you’d have everything you needed to write the article. 

It took you a few nights before you actually saw him. Either he wasn’t there at first or you’d missed him in the crowd, but you persisted. You didn’t have another lead and through you tried to track him down through his online profiles, you’d not had much luck. So night after night you and took yourself to the bar, watching to see if he showed. On the third night you actually saw him, drink in hand, talking to a friend in a corner of the room. You spent the night observing, watching to see what he did and who he talked to. You had to admit he was handsome, even from a distance. But it seemed he was in the mood for a quiet night. He and his friend downed a couple of beers each and then he left, alone. You waited five seconds and then followed him out of the bar and onto the street but he hailed a taxi and drove off. He was back on the fourth night too and you thought you saw him look at you as you intentionally walked past him on your way to get a new drink but he didn’t approach and you didn’t either. You didn’t want to rush and spook him. He was your best and only chance of getting the information you wanted. It wasn’t until nearly a week had passed that you finally spoke to him. After days of observing you decided it was time to see what he’d tell you. You put more effort into your appearance that night. Before you hadn't minded blending into the crowd but now you wanted his attention. You spent time doing your hair and makeup beforehand and you chose a dress that made you feel confident, that flattered you and that fell just a touch on the slutty side. All the more reason for this Pedro guy to look at you.  

He was already there when you arrived, standing over in his usual corner of the room. Forcing yourself to look straight ahead, and not at him, you made your way to the bar and ordered a drink. Someone sidled up beside you, leaning against the bar so his frame didn’t seem quite so tall or broad. You reached into your bra to pull out your money but his honeyed voice stopped you.  “Allow me,”   “Thanks,” you turned and smiled as he picked up your drink. As handsome as Pedro had been from across the room, he was even more so up close.   He smiled back, a slight dimple appearing, and you had to remind yourself you were there for business. You almost forgot to reply when he asked how your night was going, caught up in his soft brown eyes. But he seemed to find your slight stumble charming and he let out a soft chuckle as he straightened his back and subtly looked you over.   “May I ask who I’ve bought this drink for?”  “It’s Y/N,” you said, taking the glass from him, “Y/N Y/L/N.”  He paused for a second before he smiled again, “It’s a pleasure Y/N. I’m Pedro.”  “Lovely to meet you.”  “So, Y/N, you come here often?”  It wasn’t hard to feign interest as he flirted with you. In fact, if you were being honest, you weren’t even pretending. You were flattered that someone as charming as he would have approached you and the was nothing fake about the way he made you laugh or the way you lightly touched his arm to encourage him. It was almost tempting to forget the whole article and just see where things went. And you had to keep reminding yourself not to get too distracted. But you did concede to yourself that if he demanded you sleep with him in return for his information you gladly would. 

At some point he led you away from the bar, new drinks in hand, and towards his favoured spot, pulling his chair in close to yours at the table. There was little space between you which meant you could hear each other quite clearly despite the din of the other patrons. But all the same you found yourself crossing your legs and leaning towards him as you chatted. He leaned in quite as much as you, letting his thumb graze over your thigh as he spoke.   The slight touch sent a shiver through you but Pedro was the first to act on it.   His eyes flicked down to your lips and then back up to meet yours, “D’you want to get out of here? I live close by.”  Your breath hitched and you cursed yourself for caring so much about your writing, sure you were about to ruin what otherwise would have been a fantastic night, “Your place? I’ve heard you’re a little more adventurous than that.”  Pedro raised his eyebrows and leant back half an inch, “Is there somewhere else you’d prefer?”  You shrugged non-committedly, disappointed you wouldn’t get to even kiss the man you’d spent all evening flirting with but determined not to let him slip away before he gave you the information you wanted, “Not necessarily.”  “So you weren’t thinking about Mundo Maravilloso?”  This was it, this was what you’d been waiting for. Mundo Maravilloso. No one else had known it’s name but Pedro did which meant he knew more. Internally you were screaming with excitement but you kept your face neutral and your tone as calm as possible, “What’s that? Some sort of night club?”  Pedro rolled his eyes as he leaned back further, “That’s its name. The underground sex club you’re planning to write about.”  “What are you talking about?” you asked in faux-confusion.  “C’mon Y/N, don’t play dumb. I know who you are. That website of yours is fascinating. You’re a good writer.”  Fuck. It seemed like the innocent act wasn’t going to cut it which left you one other option. “Thank you. Are you going to give me something I can quote in my next piece?”  The intimate proximity was broken as Pedro shook his head with a small huff of laughter, “No. But if you want to forget about the article I’m still happy to take you home.”  “It doesn’t have to be a quote. I can keep it anonymous.”  “Still going to have to say no. I’d prefer if you wrote about something else.”  Before you could scoff too much he continued.  “But I know that’s not likely to happen. So maybe we can agree to some terms instead.”  That was intriguing, “What sort of terms?”  “If you do go through with this, you won’t refer to anyone by name. It’s just some regular people having a bit of fun and none of us want to be exposed.”  “Hmmm. Well, that really depends on what exactly you get up to in this club.”  He considered you for a moment and you held your breath wondering how he’d respond. Finally he inhaled through his nose sharply. “Okay. How about this.”  “I’m listening.”  “Obviously, no matter what I tell you, you’re going to believe the worst of the club. I promise you it’s nothing illegal but if you’d like proof, I can take you there.”  “What?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You’d hit the jackpot.  “I’ll take you. You won't be allowed to record anything you witness or badger anyone for comments but you can see what goes on for yourself.”  “Okay. Yes.”  “Wait. You also have to promise that you’ll tell me as soon as you want to join in.”  “Fine,” you grunted with an eyeroll.  Pedro made you shake on it and then stood up, “Well, shall we?”  “Now?”  “Of course now.” 

The only sound in Pedro’s car was the radio, softly playing some song you vaguely remembered from when it had briefly been a top 40 hit a decade before.  “Where are we going?” You asked, glancing towards Pedro, watching as building flashed past the windows.  “You’ll see in a minute. We’re almost there.”  You frowned as you thought about where you were, the area still within the city and familiar to you. But your expression turned to one of surprise as Pedro swung into the dark parking lot of a supermarket that was closed for the night. Everything was quiet. The lights in the store switched off. You glanced around for something you could hit him with if this turned out to be the kind of nightmare your mother had warned you about.  Pedro, however, was totally at ease as he parked and turned off the car. “You coming?” he asked as he pushed his door open and got out.   “Why are we here?”  “I thought you wanted to see the club.” He watched you bite your lip as you weighed up the danger of following him through a deserted parking lot, “I promise, the club is here. We had to hold it somewhere no one would expect to look and this seemed like a perfect place. Plus, the guy who started the club works here so he knows all the security codes and everything.”  That made enough sense for you to warily step out of the car but you stuck your hand into your purse and said, “I am not afraid to pepper spray you if I have to.”  Pedro nodded with a small smile, “Of course. But I don’t think it’ll come to that.” He offered you his arm and you took it. 

It was even more of a surprise when he led you around the side of the building to a loading dock. A metal door labelled STAFF ONLY was half hidden in shadow but Pedro confidently rapped his knuckles against it and to your surprise it opened. The man on the inside gave you a brief nod before he closed the door behind you and resumed his seat, his attention back on a book he was reading. It was dark inside too but Pedro must have known where he was going, leading you down a corridor until a pinprick of light appeared up ahead. As you got closer it became clear that the lights were shining over a second door. This one was featureless, but you knew the action must be behind it. Whatever the club was, whatever they got up to, you were about to find out.   Pedro’s eyes flicked to you as you approached the illuminated spot around the door.   Up this close you could hear things, noises that had been too muffled before but which now sounded so loud in the near silence of the empty store. You listened and realised what you were hearing was all manner of moans and grunts. You thought you might even have heard the word please being whined but it was hard to tell for sure.   Pedro just looked amused, giving you enough time to work out that what you were listening to were sex sounds before he reached out to knock on that door too. 

The door swung noiselessly inwards and Pedro gestured for you to step inside first. For a moment you were blinded by the sudden bright light but your eyes adjusted and you began to make out what was before you. The room appeared to be some sort of unused storage area, large and open like a warehouse space. Except for all the people. It wasn’t exactly crowded – the club was clearly selective about how many people were admitted – but it was enough that the room didn’t feel empty. The noises you’d heard were louder on this side of the door but before you could look around much further a man with a clipboard stepped infront of you.   “Evening Pedro,” he said cheerily, holding out his hand. He looked to you and then back to your companion, “Is this a new toy?”  “I’m not sure yet,” Pedro shrugged, “She wanted to know what she was in for first.”  The man nodded, “Well, just make sure she comes and signs the sheet if she decides she does want to be involved.”   “Of course, Martin.”   The so called Martin tapped his clipboard and left you be.  “This way,” Pedro said softly from just behind you, his hand on the small of your back guiding you forward.  He kept you towards the outskirts of the room which seemed to be a spectators area. It was mostly occupied by men though a few women sat amongst them. Some of the onlookers were nursing bottles of water or Gatorade, sweaty hair clinging to their necks and in some cases bare torsos. They watched what was happening in the middle of the floor, commenting on it to whoever sat near them or else just cheering it on. Every so often you saw one of the crowd get up and move to the middle of the room to join in. You followed one attractive blonde man as he strode across the floor, pulling his cock from his jeans as he went. He approached a woman who lay in the middle of the floor, grabbed her hair and used it to tug her to her knees. She looked up at him helplessly as he slid his penis between her lips, holding her in place as he worked himself deeper and deeper.   You were shocked by the sight but your eyes were drawn to another woman who was nearby the first. She was stripped naked and crying as a man pounded her roughly from behind, two more standing over her and jerking themselves off. There were more too, all sorts of women in all sorts of positions. Often multiple men stood around the same woman, sometimes all using her at once, filling her holes. Some were handcuffed and some were gagged and some were being passed from person to person, helpless to stop what was being done to them.  Quickly turning to Pedro you could see he was enjoying your shock.  “What do you think?” he asked as casually as if he’d inquired whether you thought it might rain later.  “What the fuck did you bring me to?”  “This is it Y/N, this is the club you wanted to know about.” 

“Is it a swingers thing? Or just group sex?”  He made an uncertain hum, “Depends who you ask.” His grin slipped and he sighed when he realised you were not nearly as amused by that answer as he was. “This is somewhere people can indulge fantasies that aren’t always possible to indulge in the real world.”   The woman you’d been watching was still crying as the man fucking her finished and pulled out, only to be immediately replaced by his friend.  One of the audience near you got up and spanked the arse of the woman he’d chosen to torment. But Pedro barely notice the man walk past, entirely focused on you.   You felt warm as you realised where his attention was being directed, the scenes you were witnessing and the cacophony of sounds only exacerbating your sudden hot flush.  “But is it-”  “It’s entirely consensual.” Pedro cut you off, guessing correctly what you were going to ask, “All of these women volunteered. You could too if you want.” 

You shook your head as if to banish the idea like an annoying fly but it stuck in your head all the same.   Pedro pointed at another woman you were walking past, “She’d never had anal before she came here but we fixed that for her. About six times in one night.”  “What?”  “She asked for it. Said she wanted to try but had no one to try it with so we helped her out. The thing is, some women just want to be used. If they mention it out in the real world they get told they’re disgusting or not feminist, but here we believe them and we give them what they want.”  “Used? Used how?”  “However we want. See these women, these volunteers, crave submission. Some of them are stay at home mothers who take a night off to have some fun while laying down. some are in high pressure jobs that require them to manage a hundred things a day and who come here to unwind and give someone else control for a night. Some of them attend with their partners and use this as a way to play out fantasies they can’t admit to their friends. They put their name on the list and we do whatever we want to them. Of course they’re given the chance to nominate any hard limits but other than that they have no say what happens.  You gulped at the thought. What would it feel like to submit so fully to someone. Multiple someones.”  “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about being a toy for a group of strange men,” Pedro said, his voice dropping lower as he leaned into your ear, “I think you’d enjoy it. And not all of them have to be strangers. You’d know me.”  You kept your eyes fixed ahead of you, staring out of focus as you considered agreeing. It would be a bald-faced lie to say you weren’t attracted to Pedro, or even to say you weren’t turned on by the idea of him having unlimited access to your body. And thinking along those lines you forgot that he was barely more than a stranger himself.   Pedro played the devil on your shoulder, quietly encouraging you to give up control. He told you how much fun it would be, how freeing it was to just take what you were given without question. He told you how the women who gave up their control were happy and satisfied and always wanted to come back. He told you that you could be just as happy and free, all you had to do was admit that you wanted it. And the more he spoke the more you listened. His hushed words seemed to worm their way into your brain. Your lungs felt tight as he continued, your breath stolen by how good he made it sound.   And when you finally said a quiet, “Okay, I want to.” He responded.  “I knew you would.” 

You were half expecting him to drag you out into the middle of the room as soon as the words left your mouth. But Pedro just smiled brightly and took your hand in his large one, gently leading you back to Martin with the clipboard. When he heard you’d decided to join in after all Martin held out the clipboard and a black pen and told you to fill out the form. It was more rigorous than you’d expected. You’d assumed you’d just need to add your signature to a list of names but there was more to it than that. There was a question about whether you’d be submitting or using the submissives. Another was about which method of contraception you used, and another was about health concerns the patrons who’d use you should be aware of including your history of STDs.   “This is a lot,” you remarked, more to yourself than either of the men standing with you.  But Pedro shrugged, “Well we have to keep everyone safe.”  You nodded and moved onto the final question that asked if you were comfortable with oral, anal, and vaginal penetration. When you were finished and had signed your name to confirm it was all correct, Martin looked over your form. He took a sharpie out of his pocket and drew a black circle on the back of your hand.  “What’s this for?” You asked as you watched him scribble.  Pedro answered, “So everyone knows all your holes are up for grabs. Women who don’t do anal have a different symbol, and theres another for women who just want to perform oral. Makes it easier for us to tell in the moment. Plus, I bet you’re turned on from being branded as a whore.”  Your breath caught in your throat but you didn’t answer.  “Right, that’s all in order now.” Martin said, “If you need to stop for any reason before closing you can use the safe word pickle, but if you do you will be removed from the room and not allowed back in tonight. So, don’t rush into it. That should be it. She’s all yours,” he said the last to Pedro as if you were something he’d sold, and walked off to file your form.   As soon as Pedro heard that he was on you. 

You barely registered the pen leaving your hand when you felt Pedro tugging the zip of your dress down so he could strip you of it. You’d not worn a bra underneath it and the shock of being suddenly exposed made you try to cover your chest. Pedro gave a derisive laugh and practically tore your underpants in his haste to get them down your legs. Standing at his full height, he tugged your arms away from your breasts, the cool air of the room making your nipples stiffen, and began to yank you towards the centre of the room.   “New fucktoy,” he announced to the room at large, “Three hole whore to use.”  Instinct kicked in and you tried to fight against his grip. It wasn’t that you didn’t want it, just that you were surprised by his sudden roughness. But Pedro just pinned your wrists in one large hand and grabbed onto your hair with the other.   “Uh uh whore. We all know you want it so stop pretending. I’m not afraid to leave bruises.”  When you didn’t immediately stop struggling he slapped you across the cheek. The sudden noise echoed in the large space and the sharp sting made you still, giving him the chance to push you to your knees. With one fist still in your hair he used his grip to tilt your head back, forcing you to look up at him.   You didn’t dare move, even when he let go so he could undo his belt. You just watched as he tugged the leather loose and pushed his pants down his thighs.  “Let’s see how you handle my cock.” He was half hard by the time he got it out, grabbing your hair and pulling you onto him. But you felt him get harder as you began to suck.   A strange mix of excitement and nerves tied your stomach in knots but you tried to ignore it and focus on the task at hand. You bobbed your head, stroking your tongue over his shaft and head, trying to work out what he wanted so he wouldn’t slap you again. And gradually, as you found a rhythm, you tried to take more of him.   He let you go for a bit but before long he took complete control, pressing you down further, holding you in place as you gagged.  Your arms flailed as you tried to pull back for air and your brain clicked into place, the reality of what you’d signed up for dawning on you. Surprisingly, it made you moan.  Pedro laughed as he pulled you off him, slapping his hard and wet cock against your cheeks and lips as he mocked you for enjoying the rough treatment, “We really have got a whore on our hands. Moans when she gets a cock shoved down her throat. Wonder how much you can take.” He reached down to tug the belt from the loops on his pants and then tapped your lips with his tip before pressing back between them.   You felt the cool leather against the back of your neck and, out of the corners of your eyes, saw Pedro wrap the ends of the belt around his fists.   He held you in place for half a second and then tugged the belt towards him, forcing you down further, again and again, using the belt to fuck your throat. No matter how you gagged or choked, no matter how tears welled in your eyes or how you struggled to pull your mouth from around his length, he didn’t stop. You had no hope of getting away before he was ready to let you go. Pretty quickly you were drooling, the spit dripping down your throat as he harshly used you, grunting out what a good toy you made. Mentally you tried to prepare for what you felt was an inevitable load of jizz. Surely he was about to cum, gleefully force you to drink every last drop before throwing you to someone else.   But suddenly he stopped and pushed you away.  You didn’t have time to question why, gasping for air as he tossed the belt aside and moved behind you. 

You were still trying to regain command of your breaths when his hands settled on your hips, tugging you back so you fell forward onto your hands and knees. It knocked what little breath remained out of your lungs.   “That’s the sign of a good fuckdoll,” Pedro said, voice low and rough, “how wet she gets worshiping cock. And you, princesa, might be the best fuckdoll I’ve had.” He gave your pussy a small slap, the resulting wet sound making you feel humiliated and, somehow, even more aroused. He touched you briefly. Let his fingers slide along your slit, teasing your clit and toying with your hole. But he was eager for more, lining his cock up and pushing into you.   You cried out at the sudden sting as he stretched your cunt around him, pulling out an inch before pushing in two, letting you feel every ridge of his shaft rubbing against you. And it didn’t take long for the pleasure of it to overwhelm whatever slight pain you’d first met. It was a good thing that you had spent so long with Pedro, his attention enough to have you worked up let alone his domineering condescension and control. You moaned as he fucked you but he didn’t seem too worried about whether you were comfortable or not. He grabbed your hair and pulled on it so you were forced to arch your back as he railed into you.  With your head pulled up you found yourself facing another woman, three men standing over her and jerking their cocks as a fourth fucked her face, and the sight made you wonder how many others were watching Pedro use you. Surely a few would find your keens and whines pleasurable. And you were keening and whining. Every stroke of Pedro’s cock was deep and harsh, his large hands squeezing you tightly, pulling you backwards to meet each of his thrusts. And everything in the room – the spectacle in front of you and all the noises around you, the moans and pleading cries of the other used women, the grunts of powerful men cumming on or in their prizes – made you clench and moan. Pedro growled as you tightened around him and fucked you all the harder and before you realised what was happening you came. He was taken aback by your sudden orgasm, his pace faltering for a second but he recovered enough to lean forward and bite your neck as he ground his dick into you. “Most whores don’t cum until at least their third cock but god, princesa, you just couldn’t help yourself. I knew you’d fucking enjoy this when I saw you, and you just proved me right. That’s how much of a slut you are.” He grazed his teeth over your skin again before settling back to keep fucking you. He showed no regard for how you felt in the wake of your orgasm, using you for his own pleasure.  Most of what you heard from Pedro were growls and grunts and heavy breaths but every so often he’d spit out something like “You’re my new favourite,” or  “Gonna ride you until you fucking break, princesa,” as he slammed into you again and again. Until finally he was close.   “Ready whore,” he gasped, “You’re about to take your first load as my toy, but it won’t be your last.” After that it only took a few more thrusts before he made good on the threat, spilling his cum inside you. He rode out the orgasm, giving you a few last shallow thrusts before he let go of you and pulled out.   You dropped your head forward, panting, surprised by the turn your night had taken but genuinely pleased at the departure from what you’d expected to happen. And then you felt him enter you again.  

Your head shot up, mostly from the shock that he was already able to go again, when Pedro stepped into your line of vision.   He shoved two fingers into your mouth, sliding them along your tongue to make you drool some more, “Awww. Did the whore not take me seriously when I said strangers would use her? Well, get used to it, princesa. There’s a whole lot more for you to take.”   The cock inside you felt thinner than Pedro’s had but whoever owned it was aggressively riding you, groping your ass at the same time, and you were grateful for the distraction Pedro provided. He kept playing with your mouth as he said, low enough that you knew the threat was for you alone, “I’m going to make sure everyone knows what a filthy fucking slut you’ve been for me. You’re my cumdump now and I’ll make sure to fill all your holes twice before the nights through.”   You watched as Pedro stiffened again, aroused by playing with you and the appreciative moans the slipped from you along with the drool trail. And the next time he shoved his cock into your mouth you tasted yourself on his skin. You moaned, in part because of how utterly debauched you felt licking a mix of your cum and his from his shaft. The other part of it was that, as he’d forced your lips to part, he’d shifted you and changed the angle of the cock inside your cunt.   As if in response to your depraved noises, the unknown man spanked you out of nowhere. It was enough to make you lurch forward and gag as Pedro’s tip hit the back of your throat. But that just made Pedro push deeper as he too leaned over to slap your ass. 

The two men exchanged a few words about you between grunts and thrusts and spanks, commenting on how you felt compared to some of the other free use women and how entertaining your gags and whines were. You wanted to listen in, to hear everything they had to say about you, but their actions were distracting to say the least. Pedro was tugging your hair harder, his fingers tightening as he neared the edge of release and you hoped that his cumming would mean a brief reprieve for you. There was always the chance that Pedro would be immediately replaced by someone else though and the idea made you nervous. But there was an underlying level of excitement to. Excitement about not knowing what would come, and about Pedro’s promise of how much he’d use you. You felt hungry for it. Eager to feel him in and on every inch of your body. And knowing he’d soon be in your ass just made you even wetter.  

You were so caught up in thoughts of taking it up the ass that you barely noticed the unknown man stilling as he came. But you did feel it, yelping in surprise, as he pulled out and another cock slid in. The new one was thicker than the last, though shorter, and your pussy throbbed as it accommodated his extra girth.   Pedro finished about a minute later, making sure to coat your tongue so he could order you to swallow and then slap your cheek when a dribble escaped out the corner of your mouth.   “You can have the messy whore,” he said to the new man, stepping back from you and out of your eyeline.   Your brows furrowed as you lost sight of Pedro but a moment later and you saw him once more. The new man pulled out, flipped you over, and rammed back into your cunt, making your back arch as his cock changed angle within you and his hands came up to grope your tits.   You gasped as he leaned forward to suck on your nipple, his fair hair falling over his face.  “Take it you dirty bitch,” the man grunted, breath warm against your skin. He slapped one of your tits as he rutted into you and then latched his lips onto the nipple again, creating a chain of sensations that made you moan.  But you only had eyes for Pedro, watching him over the blonde man’s shoulder. He was watching you too, standing beside his friend from the bar, each of them sipping from bottles of water as they chatted and enjoyed the show. For a moment your eyes locked and you let out another moan, wanting him to know he’d been right about how much you’d enjoy the club. 

The blonde man finished quickly, leaving you with another load of cum leaking onto the floor between your legs and the indent of his teeth on your breast. You lay still, wondering who would want you next and how they would take you, panting and beginning to ache.   Pedro strode towards you when no one else approached immediately. He knelt beside you and gently eased you to sit up, your muscles protesting.   “Drink, princesa” he said softly, offering you his half full bottle, “Can’t have our toy dehydrating.”  You gratefully gulped down the offered drink, not quite washing the salty taste from your tongue.  Pedro waited until you’d finished before he snatched the bottle from you and tossed it aside, pulling you onto his lap. He was hard again and he was interested in waiting no longer, slapping your thigh and ordering you to ride him.   You were stiff from being on the floor but Pedro expected enthusiasm from you. He spanked your ass when you were too slow and then dug his fingers into your hips as he pulled you down onto his cock, making you cry out as your overworked cunt took another thrashing.   “Please,” you whined, tears welling up as he yanked you down again and again.  He just leaned forward to bite your unmarked breast, chuckling when you yelped.  Pedro’s friend turned your head and freed his cock.  Knowing what was to come, you leaned forward and sucked his flushed tip between your lips.  He hummed appreciatively but to Pedro said, “You were right about what a cockslut our little reporter friend is.”  Pedro thrust up into you as your rhythm faltered, his friend making it hard to keep going while your throat was being fucked too.  Between them you were a mess of wet sounds – gags from your throat and a constant pornographic squelch from your pussy as the multiple loads of cum acted as lubricant. You tried to balance yourself by holding onto each man but someone from the onlookers and those lined up to have their turn decided that was less fun than the alternative. You felt your arms being pulled behind your back and heard a familiar jangle as Pedro’s discarded belt was tightened around your wrists. It left you feeling wobbly as you were fucked from both ends without anything to hold onto, dizzy almost. A sensation that was only made stronger by a strangers spit slicked fingers rubbing over your asshole.   “No,” Pedro growled and for a moment you cringed, expecting to be spanked again as punishment for some unknown crime. But he was talking to the stranger behind you. “Not yet. I have dibs on these holes. Wait your turn.”  The wet fingers retracted but you were already cumming again, Pedro’s possessive threat tipping you over the edge.  

Pedro's friend made sure to pull his cock from your drool soaked lips so he could nut over your face, your tears mingling with the spurts of white that decorated your cheeks.   But with bound arms there was nothing you could do to wipe it away and the next man promised he’d only add to the mess as he started stroking himself off in front of you.   Pedro came soon after that, filling your pussy again as he moaned about how good you felt.   You stayed on his cock until he swatted your ass again and told you to let someone else have their go. But before you’d even begun to try to stand on your own, your felt hands grab you under your arms, pulling you up onto your feet. It was hard to understand what was going on as you were bent over, confused about who had pulled you up and if it was the same person now gripping your bound wrists and sliding into your cum slick hole. The man who’d been jerking himself continued to do so, shifting on his feet so his tip was inches from your lips. You tried to stick your tongue out, to lick the precum that was dribbling down his shaft but he wouldn’t let you, though some of the onlookers commented on how eager you were. Pedro was one of them, watching and laughing as he regained his stamina. By the time he was ready to take you again you’d received another load over your face, the man fucking you from behind still going strong though close to release.   “I want her ass.” was all Pedro said and you felt the cock inside you still and then pull out. Its owner groaned at losing the feeling of your pussy clenching but he wasn’t without for too long. They stood you upright and the man lifted your leg so he could slide into you again, settling once more into his quick rhythm. Pedro took advantage of how the position opened your ass to him, spitting onto his fingers so he could toy with your hole. He didn’t go slow exactly but he did give you a little time to adjust, spreading you open with his fingers as your pussy was pounded. Looking around you saw multiple men masturbating to the sight of you.  “Fuck her already Pedro,” one called out and you heard Pedro’s answering laugh, deep and warm right behind you. It sent shivers down your spine.   You gasped as his head pressed against your puckered hole, slowly sinking into you.   The man in your cunt seemed to sense how much you enjoyed having your ass played with, or perhaps he just wanted to be mean and overstimulate you further. Either way, you keened as his fingers rubbed at your clit, the sensation combining with how he rubbed against the walls of your cunt and how Pedro stimulated the sensitive nerves around your asshole. It all hit you at once and before you knew it you were cumming again, muscles clenching down on both men as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks.  

With nothing in your cunt or mouth, Pedro was free to use you as he wished, grunting as he pushed himself into you, slowly beginning to thrust. Whenever he felt it necessary he added extra spit to lube you up, making it easier for him to ride your ass until he could comfortably fuck you.   “Good fucking girl, princesa,” he growled, fingertips digging into you as he held you in place, “So tight.”  “Just wait till we’ve all had a turn,” someone from the onlookers said.  “Yeah she’ll be gaping in no time,” another laughed.   Pedro leant forward and attached his lips to your throat, sucking his mark into your skin.   You’d already lost track of time and of how many cocks you’d taken, but after that it seemed even impossible to count. Pedro rode you hard until he finished, filling your ass with his cum. After he stepped aside you were pushed to the ground again, all your holes fair game now that Pedro had broken you in. You were befuddled and groggy as you were pushed and pulled, moved here and there, bent over, yanked back, and pinned down. Hands groped your tits and ass cheeks, sometimes pinching or spanking, sometimes just squeezing. And your holes were always in use, though not always at once. There were times where three different men would claim your three holes at once but even when they left one or two free it was hard to know for sure. There were moments when, though your mouth was empty, you could still feel the previous cock in your throat. And even when they gave your thoroughly used cunt a rest, you still smarted and stung from the pounding you’d already received. And yet, somehow, through all the confusion, you remained lucid enough to follow Pedro, to know when he was staking his claim and using you. And you worked out that as soon as he wanted you he would have you. It was hard to know why, perhaps because he’d supplied you he had a bigger claim on your body than anyone else. All you knew was that if said he wanted one of your holes the other men would accommodate him, even if someone else was already using it. If Pedro wanted to have your ass again, you’d be spun around, repositioned to make it easier for him. If Pedro wanted your cunt, the man thrusting away at it would pull out and step aside, waiting his turn patiently. Knowing that made you feel like a possession, like you really were Pedro’s toy and he was just nice enough to share you. You assumed that was the point of all the marks he was leaving on you – the bites and hickeys and small purple bruises. Pedro seemed to delight in owning you and marking you as his own, and you enjoyed it just as much. It was especially fun when you were forced to cum and Pedro would mock you for it, making the others laugh as you whined in weak protest. He called you filthy and debauched for enjoying being a blow-up doll with a pulse. But then he’d lean into you ear and softly say, “But I like filthy and debauched sluts like you. Knowing how well you take cock makes me hard so I’m going to use you again.” Which would be when he growled out the hole he wanted to fuck and a moment later you’d feel him in you again.  

By the end of the night you were exhausted. Covered in your own saliva, in water dripped from bottles you’d tried to drink from as you were being fucked, in tears and in cum from who knew how many men, but especially Pedro. You wouldn’t have known it was the end of the night if not for a bell ringing and Martin’s voice yelling out, “last call!”   Around you were the unmistakable sounds of men redressing, flys done up once more. Those who were sitting on the sidelines and those who’d just got off began making their way towards the exit, chatting with people they knew and calling out final comments to the women who’d offered themselves up for the night. But those still using their whores remained. Pedro was deep in your ass and halfway to orgasm when the bell rang and you knew he would not stop until he’d cum. He wanted to be the last one to finish in you though, slowing his thrusts as the man in your throat sped his pace. Your cunt was mercifully free but Pedro distracted himself from his own need by toying with it, giving you a few good pussy spanks until his large fingers came to rest on your clit. It made you moan, the sound muffled and choked off as your throat was fucked, the man egged on by how much you seemed to enjoy it. He made sure you tasted him too, coating your tongue. With arms still bound behind your back you had no way to hold yourself up but the man carefully lowered you to the ground. And when you came, despite not being sure you had the energy for it, he laughed at the sight of his jizz spilling from your open lips and dripping onto the floor. By then the room was quieter but there were still a few men left, their grunts and groans as loud as the moans and sobs of the women they were using. The sounds of final orgasms echoed around the room and you wondered how much longer Pedro would keep you, how much longer would you experience the bliss and torture of the club.   But as soon as Pedro had you to himself he sped up again, giving his final ride everything he had. His hips knocked into your ass as he forcefully fucked into you, fingers tight on your waist, pulling you back to meet him. It only took a few more minutes before he had his release too, his rough grunts loud in your ear as he bent over you, driving his cock as deep as he could manage so his cum was sure to fill you. 

When he was finished he slumped, worn out, his weight oddly comforting on top of you despite sending you crashing to the floor. He muttered an apology, panting breath warm against your shoulder, and trailed his lips softly over the same spot.   You hummed at the tender kiss, complete antithesis of everything else you’d experienced that night. Pedro pulled out as gently as he could manage though you winced all the same. But he stayed by your side, loosing his belt from around your wrists and helping you to sit.    “Are you okay?” he said softly once your thirst was sated.   You nodded, “Yeah, think so.”  “You were incredible, just so you know. Offering us so much and taking what everyone gave you. Incredible.”  You couldn’t help but smile at his praise, pleased you’d had such an impact.  “Do you need anything? There’s plenty more water and Martin’s bringing out the clean-up stuff now.”  “Clean-up stuff?” you were still trying to recover your wits.  “Yeah, so that everyone can freshen up a bit before they go home to their normal lives. There’re some warm, damp cloths, umm, baby wipes, makeup remover.”  The thought of being able to wipe your face clean, let alone anything else, was a huge relief, “Cleaning up sounds great.”  “Alright, are you right to wait here while I get things for you?”  “Yeah. Can you also grab my clothes?”  “Of course, princesa.” Pedro smiled, and passed you more water, “Have another drink, I’ll be back in a moment.”  “Thank you. My dress was the-”  “I remember which was your dress.”  “You do?”  “How could I forget when you looked so stunning in it.”  You were left, bashful at his complement and a little dumbfounded, trying to comprehend what you’d just willingly taken part in as you sipped at your water. Glancing around you watched the other women who’d been in your position. Some of them were also accompanied by partners and anyone who’d come alone was being tended to by Martin or whoever was sitting close by.  

When Pedro returned he was fully dressed again. He passed you a damp face towel and you gratefully dragged it across your cheeks and jaw. Pedro let you know you’d missed a spot and took the towel from you, his soft eyes meeting yours as he gently cleaned it up. You gave your inner thighs and ass crack a quick wipe down with a few baby wipes, resolving to treat yourself to a steaming hot bath for a proper clean once you were home. Pedro had averted his eyes at a look from you, turning his back to give you some scant privacy, but you did catch him stealing one last look at your naked body as he handed you your dress and helped you back into it.  The crowd had thinned noticeably as you’d performed your rudimentary clean up. Martin was the only man left and was helping two women towards the door, their steps stiff. You felt it was hard to walk yourself, choosing to go barefoot rather than deal with the heels you’d come in. But Pedro let you grasp his arm and lean against him as you headed towards the exit.   “Night Martin,” Pedro called out with a wave, “You right to get them home?”  “All good, thanks buddy,” Martin called out, pointing the two women towards his car, “They both live close to me.”  “I should call an Uber.” you said, realising you hadn’t thought about getting home.  “Don’t be silly, I’ll take you.”   “You don’t mind?”  “You came here at my invitation, of course I don’t mind.”  You didn’t argue with that and followed Pedro back to his car, relaxing into the seat as he started the engine.   He asked for your address and turned the radio on low, smiling to himself when you fell into a doze on the drive. 

Your phone said it was close to four in the morning when you reached your front door, leaning on Pedro again as your bare feet padded up the carpeted hallway towards your apartment.   “Just this one here.”  Pedro watched as you dug out your keys and successfully opened your door, reluctant to leave before he knew you were safely inside.   You leant in the doorway, the goodbye feeling oddly awkward. What did you say to a man you’d let talk you into a free-use gang bang and kind of wanted to see again?  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, eyes worried as he looked you over, “a lot happened tonight.”  “No, I’m okay. I do feel a little weird but mostly I just want to sleep.”  “Make sure to drink more water before you do.”  “Of course. Thank you for looking after me.”  “Thank you for coming and for joining in, princesa.” He hesitated a moment and then seemed to make up his mind, “I know you probably haven’t given it much thought what with, well everything, so if you don’t have an answer feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I’m curious what you’re going to put in your article.”  It took you a moment to remember what he was talking about, the article completely driven from your mind, but when you remembered you shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”  “That’s fair,” he looked down at his hands, “Well goodn-”  “I think I should probably come back and do more research before I decide to write anything.”  Pedro’s eyes snapped to yours and he broke into a smile, “That’s probably a good idea. Maybe you should take my number too and then you can call me for a lift when you do want to...do research. It’d be rude to let you go alone.”  “And maybe if I have your number I could call you for a private interview too? Over dinner?”  Pedro’s smile widened. 

[uswnt5]

This “While Angel City has not shared exact figures, all three of these sponsorships are worth significant amounts of money. Sports Business Journal reported DoorDash’s kit sponsorship to be in the “low eight-figure” range, and Sportico reported that Birdies and Sprouts were both seven-figure deals.”

And this “Christen (Press, the club’s first signing) will probably come number one (in jersey sales),” Eaton said, laughing a bit.” we’re my favorite bits from the athletic article. Apparently they’ve bought a ton of stock of the jersey, let’s they’re prepared

Oh I didn't even know there was an athletic article yet. Nice!

And yes she will. I'm buying both kits of CP's even if I don't LOVE them. I like what the kits represent but being that they're all recycled material is cool. That may be why they're more limited in what they can do with them.

[theassthatquits]

In the Margins Ch 3

You can read the first two chapters here. 

Summary: Barry picks out a book for Lup. Lup gets bold. 

Barry fell asleep with The TA’s Most Important Assignment laid open on his chest. He had just finished reading it before he knocked out for the night. The sunlight streamed through his port window, waking him up. Sitting up, dazed and confused and still in his clothes from the day before, he noticed a small note on the floor of his room in front of the door. 

 Grinning, he got up and retrieved it. It was, of course, from Lup. She had been writing him notes for years, leaving them in the lab, in his jeans pocket, under the door. They started out pretty insignificant, “Coffee is fresh in the pot,” “Practicing spells with Taako at 3”. They quickly got more fun: “Heard you snoring last night, couldn’t trance. Hope you had nightmares. Xx Lup” “Thank you for showing me how to solder last night. Tried to practice, might have burned some papers. Xx Lup”. He kept all of them. 

 This newest one said: “Sounded like you had fun last night. Glad to hear that my debut novel was a hit. Hope I’ll enjoy your pick as much as you love mine. I’ll get it from you at breakfast. Xx Lup” 

Barry looked up, confused. What did she mean by his pick? Was he supposed to give her something to read? Did he unknowingly enter into a backwards book club? Looking around his room, he found mostly textbooks and field journals, things that were in no way similar to what she had given him. He groaned, most of his books had lame nerd notes in them, they couldn’t compare to the stellar commentary she had in hers. 

 He was thumbing through the endless catalogued encyclopedias when he came across a history book from one of their first planes: Cultural Celebrations of the North and their History. He didn’t usually keep books like these in his bedroom, all of the history books he kept from former planes were boxed up in his lab, but this one was different. 

 This was from the cycle where he danced with Lup. 

 He remembered the year fondly, the town they were staying near had seemingly endless celebrations and holidays. This was in the beginning, before he was fully comfortable with everyone and was okay letting loose. It had only been a crush then, a seed that was planted when she stole his wallet with Taako and slung her arm so casually around him when they met. This was what made it sprout into something more. 

 Night of Dance was the first festival they were in town for. It is precisely how it sounds: when the night falls and the stars come out, they dance in celebration. The book goes into detail about how it honors the Goddess of vitality, but that wasn’t something that they fully understood that day. All they understood was dance. 

 Flipping through the book, Barry remembers how it felt to hold her in his arms under the stars as she smiled up at him and in the moment he thought he would die right there. He smiles to himself, a toothless grin with not much joy in it. No matter how long he spent pining after her, he would never get to spin her around like that every night. Metaphorically speaking. Maybe if he lent her this book she would remember dancing with him. 

 Barry grabs a pencil and starts jotting down some notes in the text.

 ----

 That night at dinner, everyone was unusually rowdy. It had been a quiet cycle for the most part. No one had died yet, and that was always worth celebrating. Lucricia and Magnus were passionately debating wrestling techniques (she had developed an interest during a cycle where Magnus had become a celebrity wrestler). Taako and Lup were dancing around each other, setting up the table for the meal, trying to trip one another constantly. Davenport and Merle were finishing up a card game in the corner, Merle yelling because he was sure Davenport was cheating. 

 For 40 years they had been family. Barry stood in the doorway, a smile on his lips. At first he felt like a constant outsider, the butt of all of the jokes. 

 Taako looked up at him, “Ah, I thought I smelled a fashion disaster.”

 Lup shoved him, sending some mashed potatoes to the floor. “Lay off, Koko.” She looked up at Barry, their eyes locking. “I happen to love the denim look.”

 Yep, they were a family. Barry blushed and walked into the room. 

 “Oooo is that for me?” Lup asked, spotting the book he was carrying. 

 “Uhh, yeah. It’s...different than the one you lent me, but I think you’ll still find it enjoyable.”

 “Different how?”

 “Well, in this one everyone keeps their clothes on.”

 Lup fake pouted, “Aw, no fun.” Suddenly changing her demeanor, she grinned and bounded over to him, snatching the book from his hand before he knew what was going on. “Cultural Celebrations of the North and their History. Ooh, sounds -”

 “Boring?” Taako cut in.

 “-very interesting.” She said, glaring at Taako. “Thank you very much, Barold. I’m excited to read it.” Lup was in a very good mood and feeling brave, so she leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. 

 Stunned, Barry watched as Lup turned around and ran back into the kitchen. “Thanks, nerd!” She yelled as she disappeared through the door.

 Barry did not move for several moments. 

 “Barold? Are you going to join us for dinner?” Taako asked with a deep knowing in his voice. 

 Face flushing a deep red, Barry turned and sat down, joining the rest of the group. 

 ----

 “Cultural Celebrations of the North and their History,” murmured Lup to herself. She flipped through it quickly, trying to remember which cycle this was from. Scanning the chapters, she realized it was from the plane of celebrations. It was a very long time ago, before she had realized she was in love with Barry. A crush, sure. A potential drunken regret? Absolutely. 

 But Lup never fell in love. 

 Until she did. 

[camillejeaneshphm]

Nisha Jeanes’s profile:

BASIC INFO

Quote by Character: “I wish that…you would love me again.”

Full Name: Nisha Kimaya Jeanes

Nicknames: Nish

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Aromantic Asexual

Alignment: Neutral Good

Species: Witch

Blood Status: Muggleborn (suspected, never met birth family)

Date of Birth: 4 October 2011

Race/Ethnicity: Indian

Nationality: Indian, British

Short Bio: Nisha was adopted by Camille Jeanes as a baby. She’s cheerful and warm-hearted, with a loyal streak a mile wide.

Personality: Intelligent, loyal, kind

Languages: Tamil (some), French, English

Likes: Books, plants, stars

Dislikes: Bullies, her sister

Greatest Flaw: Cowardice

Greatest Strength: Intelligence

Place of Residency:

Hogwarts, Scotland

Carentan, Normandy, France

Future Career: Seer w/ Ministry of Magic

APPEARANCE

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Skin Tone: Tanned, golden undertones

Height: 5’4 by Year 7

Weight: 65 kg by Year 7

Physique: Small and slightly chubby

Style Choice (what they like to wear): Nisha wears a lot of dresses! When she isn’t wearing one, she prefers jeans and a hoodie.

Accessories: Nisha usually has some kind of colorful hairclip!

Inventory: Wand, glasses (she only needs them when she reads), a small journal

Scars: One on her face from her cleft palate corrective surgery as a child, another long one along her right calf from falling out of a tree

Face Claim: Tanuahree Dutta

Voice Claim/description of what they sound like: Olivia Rodrigo

MAGIC

Wand Description/Picture:

English Oak, Unicorn hair, 14 inches

[A wand for good times and bad, this is a friend as loyal as the wizard who deserves it. Wands of English oak demand partners of strength, courage and fidelity. Less well-known is the propensity for owners of English oak wands to have powerful intuition, and, often, an affinity with the magic of the natural world, with the creatures and plants that are necessary to wizardkind for both magic and pleasure. The oak tree is called King of the Forest from the winter solstice up until the summer solstice, and its wood should only be collected during that time (holly becomes King as the days begin to shorten again, and so holly should only be gathered as the year wanes. This divide is believed to be the origin of the old superstition, ‘When his wand’s oak and hers is holly, then to marry would be folly,’ a superstition that I have found baseless). It is said that Merlin’s wand was of English oak (though his grave has never been found, so this cannot be proven).]

Wand reaction when chosen: A warm glow filled the room

Boggart: Her sister, laughing maniacally

Riddikulus Form: Her sister tells a silly joke

Patronus: Golden Retriever

Patronus Memory: Her adopted mother’s warm smile

Animagus: n/a

Amortentia (what they smell like): Woodsmoke, vanilla, the air on a crisp autumn day

Amortentia (What they smell): Nisha has never smelled amortentia and has no intention of doing so.

Mirror of Erised: Her family happy and whole.

Misc. Magical Abilities: Wandless magic, later revealed to have Seer capabilities

Favorite/Created Spells: She creates a jinx causing the target’s face to erupt in bright purple spots.

SCHOOL LIFE

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: n/a

Organizations Joined:

Apprenticeships: None

Professions: Seer, researcher

Best Subjects: Divination, Astronomy, Herbology

Worst Subjects: DADA

Favorite Teachers: Longbottom, Sprout

Least Favorite Teachers: Slughorn

Extracurricular (Clubs and Sports): n/a

Class Proficiencies (OWL grade, n /10 or ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆):

Astronomy: 9.5/10

Charms: 7/10

DADA: 5/10

Flying: 4/10

Herbology: 10/10

History of Magic: 7/10

Potions: 7/10

Transfiguration: 8/10

Divination: 7/10

STATS

Power (magic): 8/10

Power (physical strength): 4/10

Intelligence: 9/10

Skill: 8/10

Teamwork: 7/10

Speed: 9/10

Defense: 5/10

RELATIONSHIPS

FAMILY:

Father: Unknown

Biological Mother: Unknown

Mother: Camille Jeanes, baker and Muggle Studies professor

Siblings: Ashtyn Jeanes, Slytherin and Auror

Friends:

Closest In-Game Friends:

n/a

Closest MC friends:

Benji Khanna (@adellovesrowan)

Love interest:

None (she is aroace)

Dorm mates:

None (four open spots !!)

Rivals:

none yet (open to interaction)

Enemies:

n/a

Pets:

Owl, named Cūriya

OTHER

Family Background/History:

Nisha has never met her birth family. She was adopted by Camille Jeanes very young.

Miscellaneous:

Nisha has fallen into the Black Lake several times and befriended the giant squid!

Nisha knows Nothing about Quidditch.

[whitterzthefangirl]

Niall Horan One Shot - The Weight of It All

Happy Saturday night beautiful people! I have been writing for 8 months with the intention of eventually sharing something. I have been far too nervous to do so, but I finally read my writing to my husband and best friend who both encouraged me to post this. I have about 15 written stories, so if you like this LEMME KNOW!  I will tell you that there is TW: miscarriage. 

When Niall arrived home that evening he was disappointed to find the house dark, except for the light at the end of the hall, their bedroom. 

 “Lovey,” he called, continuing his steps into their bedroom. He found her seated in their master bath, their rescue pup, Rosa Barks at her feet. She was staring into space, but met his eyes when he stepped into her space. 

 Niall, hi,” she forced a smile, as he took a seat next to her, scratching behind Rosa’s ears, “How was the meeting?” 

 “Just finalizing album artwork, sorry I had to go,” he nudged her shoulder with his, “Why’d you move in here?” When he left she had requested alone time in bed. He had checked on her a few different times, bringing snacks, water, and coffee, which was the only thing she didn’t refuse.  Never once had he found her doing anything but writing in the journal he’d bought her a year ago. It was a grey leather bound book with a silver heart in the corner. It currently holds more used than blank pages. They weren't the best at talking things through with each other at the moment, so he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about the words in there. He was hoping that one day she’d tell him all about it, maybe let him read some of it, but he wasn’t holding his breath. 

 “Change of scenery,” she stated with a shrug, refocusing her gaze in front of her. On the other side of her, he saw 2 items. One was her journal, the other a baby onesie. He felt a sense of panic inside of him. It became obvious that he had not succeeded in the hunt to clear the house of any mention of a baby. Their baby. 

 “What have you got there, lovey?” he asked, grabbing her hand. She did not return the embrace, and he quickly let it go feeling silly at the unreturned exchange. He felt another feeling rise inside of him, frustration. They had been doing so well. 

 “Do you ever think about the baby? “ she asked.   

 Her question made Niall wish he was anywhere but here at the moment. Not because he didn’t want to comfort her, but because he feared being honest with her at this moment. He thought of the baby frequently, but not in the same way that she did. Both of them were sad, but she harbored guilt over the fact that her body had betrayed her. It was something she carried alone, because she wouldn’t let him carry it with her. 

 At the time of her pregnancy test, she had been getting ready to start her own marketing company and had been vomiting at nearly the same time every morning. At first she thought it was nerves, until she had confided in her mom who teased her about being pregnant, which sparked an internal countdown to her last period, which she realized was late. 

 She had taken the test alone, and only waited hours to share the news with Niall. She had feared how he would react, but if he was freaked out, he wasn’t letting on. He had immediately gone out, and bought the unborn baby a set of golf clubs, and a guitar. She remembered teasing him that their child might not want to participate in the same hobbies, she remembered when he smiled back, “They won’t have a choice.” 

 An accidental pregnancy is a weird thing between two people, who love each other, especially as you realize how much you truly want it. She remembers the first 3 weeks after finding out she was pregnant, and all the plans they made for baby Horan, and her upcoming pregnancy. He was excited to learn of her cravings, and to be there anytime she needed him, after he finished his last leg of the tour. She loved that the two shared this super intimate thing between the two of them which resulted in a lot of sex, followed by a lot of time in bed. By week 8, the pair frequently caught the other in daydreams about what he or she would be like, look like, sound like. By week 9, he was leaving for a 13 show tour, with promises of Facetime, belly time, and lots of visits. By week 12, she was calling Niall from the hospital, sobbing about not being pregnant anymore. As quickly as they had dreamt it, it was gone. That was the hardest part for Niall, not being there when she needed him the most, which was why he was choosing to keep her close now. 

 At the end of week 13, she couldn’t talk about the baby without crying, but found solace in the fact that Niall couldn’t either. By week 17 , Niall had stopped bringing the entire thing up for fear of making her cry, which made him cry. She took this as a sign that he didn’t want to talk about it at all, so she began retreating to the bathroom where she cried alone. Niall took note of this, and would hover outside the door with their pup, Rosa any chance he got. By week 20, Niall  had thought his girl was back, but a birthday party in week 22 made her fall apart all over again at the sight of her baby brother’s baby. For week 25, Niall surprised her with a 3 week trip to Hawaii which she accepted, and he could have sworn that he saw the light return to her eyes when she smiled at him and said, “Some time away will be good for me.” During that vacation, he believed she was back, and he found himself hopeful that things were going to be ok, which is why he chose to travel to New York come week 29. Things were not ok though, and week 30 through 39 were spent with her going through the motions of life, crying alone in the bathroom, only this time around she was really good at hiding it. Week 40 brings us to the bathroom floor where Niall and she are sitting. The due date. 

 Remembering her question, he bumps her shoulder as a playful gesture, trying to engage her physically, “Of course I do, Lovey. You know that,” he smiles at her, and prays that tears don’t fall from her baby blues. 

 “We don’t talk about it.” She mentions in a very matter of fact tone, she does not engage him physically, she doesn't even look at him as she says, “I’ve cried in this bathroom almost every day for 40 weeks.” 

 He was confused, he knew she had cried quite a bit at first, but it had all stopped after Hawaii. Hadn’t it? She didn’t allow him time to question, instead stating, “I had a dream.” She was sprouting so many things off, he did not know which one to bite on to, but again she did not give him a chance to offer any feedback, she just continued, “The baby was there. A baby girl.” She took this chance to look at him, which helped him to gauge how she was emotionally, she was lit up, and then started crying suddenly, “She had your nose, and my lips, our eyes. She was the perfect mix of both of us, and it was all so sad, Niall.” She leaned into his side, as he placed an arm around her, stroking her long dark hair. 

 “Oh lovey, why didn’t you say anything?” He cooed. As her cries continued, he shed a few tears of his own. She didn’t answer his question, instead saying, “I thought about dying today. I think about dying a lot,” she paused, moving away from him as if he was a hot stove top. 

Niall’s face softened. Had he been so naïve to think she was fine after everything that had happened? It hurt to hear that she thought of dying so much, he was speechless, which allowed her to continue. 

 “I’m mad, and sad, and still grieving. I don’t know how to get over this, and it feels like I never will,” she was in hysterics at this point, “I never talk about it. I never told anyone.” He knew that to be true. It was something she had requested of him. The only people who knew she had a miscarriage were the people who knew she was pregnant: Niall and She. She continued crying, and he wasn’t sure what to do, so he did the only thing he could. He held her, rubbing circles in her exposed flesh. He was hoping she would focus on anything, but how she was feeling. He believed it was working, because her cries got softer. What felt like hours was really ten minutes, and Niall decided it time to speak up. 

 “I’m not much of a talker, darlin’. When we first came home, and had to deal with the weight of it all, I didn’t know how to talk about it without crying, and my crying made you cry, so I decided to be strong for the both of us.” 

 She closed her eyes, facing him. “I appreciate that, but I think I need to be strong for me now. I need to get some help.” 

[herpronuonsarefemslash]

SNEAK PEEK: Eyes of Army Green

An upcoming patron exclusive story series.  Omegaverse Alex and Kara as Marines in Vietnam, where Kara is assigned to Guard Senator Luthor’s daughter and Alex meets a cute nurse named Kelly... If people like it enough, I might do one of them back stateside getting caught up on the whole ‘peace, sex and drugs’ thing. More goodies at:  https://www.patreon.com/alephthirteen?fan_landing=true

War is nasty. Watching this brute buzz Kara's golden curls off is a goddamned crime. The boys on the bus gave them a lot of shit—girls can't be Marines—and Alex politely reminded them that any alpha can volunteer if she so fucking chooses and on a bus full of college boys whose number came up, that was all it took. At least they got sorted to the same barracks. Kara even has the bunk above her, which is so lucky it feels like her birthday, Christmas, and the first time an omega sucked her off all at once. Then again, that may be because there's only three women here, them and a dark-eyed brunette who seems ready to stab anyone and everyone here. The stranger is bunked with a massive black recruit with a shaved head.  Now a man with a face like a clenched asshole and a haircut made entirely of right angles is walking up and down the bunks. "I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your Senior Drill Instructor. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be 'Sir!' Do you maggots understand that?" "Sir, yes, sir!" "Bullshit! I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair." "SIR, YES, SIR!" "If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training ... you will be a weapon, you will be a minister of death, praying for war. But until that day you are pukes! You're the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human fucking beings!" "Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard, but I am fair!" "And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Corps! Do you maggots understand that?" "Sir, yes, sir!" "Bullshit! I can't hear you!" "SIR, YES, SIR!" Alex expected bad but even Jeremiah's warnings didn't prepare them. The first thing Hartman does is take their names. Alex becomes Private Rusty, after the sprouts of red hair still visible. James Olsen becomes Private Eightball. Kara seems to be a particular project of his. He spends a full hour yelling how she ought to be in Playboy, or a strip club, or anywhere other than in 'his Beloved Corps' so the next day she annihilates the obstacle course, setting a record for recruits from Able Company's barracks. 

Now she's Private Supergirl. A beta with a movie stars jaw and a growly voice—Lockwood—becomes Private Pretty Boy. A shy young man from Texas named Winn becomes Private Cowboy, and Hartman makes a point of making fun of his Cross of David necklace three times a day. Alex stuffs hers into her footlocker, figuring she'll take it out when they graduate. Winn's an omega, which is in nearly as short supply as female alphas here. Worst are the Graves twins. The one bunking with James—Mercy—doesn't get a degrading nickname and given all the talk about killers, that's terrifying. Her brother Otis becomes Private Pyle, and he can't do anything right. Hartman takes it out on them and Kara adopts Otis to 'unfuck him' as the Sergeant so delicately puts it. It works a charm...until it doesn't. Alex is assigned to recon and Kara to military journalism. The day after they get their assignments, Alex finds Otis in the toilets with the top half of his head missing. Every single thing about his rifle is perfect. Polished. Oiled. Maintained.He could barely figure out which end the bullets came out of until Kara taught him. Private Pretty Boy says he's her first confirmed kill, and Kara beats the smug-faced beta so hard he has the limp two weeks later at graduation. Alex looks up at Jeremiah and Eliza.  Both beam down at her and Kara. Her stomach leaps into her throat the moment they board the plane headed for Vietnam and stays there for two days until they're touching down in Saigon. Alex develops a knack for quiet kills and clearing enemy tunnels. Kara develops a knack for following her somehow, and the moment their captain sees her photos from the bush, they forgive Kara for going semi-AWOL and give no more punishment than latrine duty. After that, someone has the brilliant idea of putting Kara with Alex's squad and making celebrities of them. Night after night in the rainy, reeking jungle with James, Winn, and a man the size of a refrigerator named Animal Mother. She takes the advice of the nastiest marine they meet and tells her team to strip Vietcong corpses for their weapons. Whoever builds their guns knows how to build something that mud, muck, and just pure wet don't affect. So they squirrel away enemy guns in their rucksacks and keep their M-16s handy for inspection day. James stays back to back with Alex, his shotgun clearing whatever Alex doesn't with her rifle. Winn proves to be a competent sniper after he gets ahold of a Soviet rifle. Kara somehow scores a zoom lens the size of an artillery shell and acts as his spotter while taking her photos. She has killed no one yet, and that suits Alex just fine. They've been in Da Nang for three weeks now. The Sea Tiger is changing leadership and they park the whole so that no one takes any photos or writes any articles that the brass wouldn't care for. Kara loves it. She's eaten sixteen types of noodles in the last week and taken photos of each. "You do realize that some of these cooks are probably VC, right? Any one of those could be poisoned," Alex huffs as she scoops her rations into her mouth. "I'd smell it." "How?" "Supersenses. Didn't you hear? I'm Supergirl!" One thing that they don't have to deal with is the whores. They seem to avoid female alphas like the plague. The men aren't so restrained, and the shed behind the motor pool reeks of omega, jism and stovetop cooked perfume. Alex jokes that their balls might be blue as a Navy dress uniform, but at least they haven't gotten the clap.  Kara jokes that she'll probably meet the love of her life over here.  

[thinkingimages]

In 1971, the poet Bernadette Mayer spent the entire month of July attempting to capture the movement of her attention and the formation of her memories. Over the course of those thirty-one days, she wrote two hundred pages and shot more than a thousand 35mm slides. The resulting project, Memory, is oceanic. Each of Mayer’s daily journal entries rolls and eddies as she allows herself to thoroughly investigate the elasticity of language and the contours of her mind. Arrayed in grids, the photographs—of grass, cats, friends, flags, skies, boats, herself, the moon—fix into place the minutiae of her days. Later this month, Siglio Press will publish a new edition of Memory that collects the full sequence of images and text for the first time in book form. Mayer’s diary entry and photographs for July 7 appear below.

Do you have access to a T? Do you have access to a xerox machine? This is a major fate hate weigh your fat. So lost so you’re lost how lost can you be when everywhere you turn it’s morning & a flag’s going up over a map: 2 bean sprouts resting on a snow pea pod & then, it snows, it snows for the first time it snows buckets it snows mainly. It snows rain snow gets rid of a lot of germs, says x of the piemonte ravioli co. we pack our pasta in boxes it’s homemade & speak about the weather: homemade stolen electric typewriters it isnt one yet stolen cassette tape recorder he had schemes. Between recorder & he is: the difference between me & the maharajah. We dont we wont atone for that we leave it as it is so, lost you’re lost how lost can you be when everywhere you go it’s morning & the sun’s coming up over a map: & the map a map to alford massachusetts to a certain place in alford massachusetts within the town lines it goes like this forward: start up the car past golf course along winding road across route 183 past j&k’s house (blue & yellow) up to T in road (chesterwood sign) follow the sign make left the road turns to dirt follow the arrows who? Till the road it’s dirt veers off in two directions always bear right on the dirt road. Veering right watch for oncoming cars on this narrow dirt road you’ll go by a white fence just pass by it when you get to real road, asphalt, that’s route 41, take a left go over a small bridge quickly (it’s green) you go a tenth of a mile & make the first right up & around the black surface of winding cobb hill road, if you’re careful you see the sign. Winding & uphill until you read a complex of buildings that looks like a textbook farm, if you make the right right in a second you’ll be passing a big red barn on the left, watch for the cows & people on the road & incidentally here’s where the road — if you walk on it you’ll see — looks like it was hit, the surface of the road, by a series of small meteors burning holes making holes making burns in the surface of the black hard asphalt brown burns. Go right on till you see a small sign that’s faded over it says alford five miles & something else, this is your first left on the road — if you’re on a motorcycle at night you’ll notice here that the temperature of the air is considerably warmer than before, we are in some kind of valley air pocket but after driving a few miles uphill it seems inexplicable except to the people who live here, here we also pass a dream-like farm nestling in the valley’s expensive soil, after making this left the road suddenly turns to gravel — I think this was probably temporary so dont count on it but the gravel begins as you cross the west stockbridge-alford town line sign. Just after you’ve passed the alford brook club or just before alford brook itself is almost invisible like a light on the shore of the country we’re making for, we’re almost there, go about 1.3 miles on this road & then stop at the house...

The Paris Review / Continue Reading... +

[benderpoet]

hello doctor, my old friend

I follow your legs up the stairs

and talk to them about my feelings;

this is always what I'm doing.

They are flawless and hairless, and I can't stop staring. They seem to fall out of your black skirt announcing you – here I am, your savior, at least the one you hired this week.

They keep interrupting my stories with questions about why I love them.

And I tell them, I don’t know; why does anyone love anything?

Maybe when they catch the light, they look like me, my legs, if I was living another life, your life, where I could be happy, no doubt,

and not fall asleep tucked in question marks. Even though you are a presentation, never mind seeing beneath the surface. Not now. Playing dress-up is only the beginning of growing up, of the transformation.

Can I imagine such a world,

where eyes find themselves at my hemline

and envy fogs away the self?

---

*Originally published by Stay Journal, formerly known as Sprout Club Journal.