#when in doubt go for the alliteration

[pethfics]

ZUTARA WEEK 2021 (Catch-up), Day Two: Disguised

Title: Unceremonious Unmasking Summary: Sometimes, the most elaborate masks were also the subtlest. People had developed so many ways of concealing themselves beyond just changing their appearance, and it was these quirks that Toph loved to explore. Read on FF.net

[ilynpilled]

I adore this interaction before it goes to shit because these two are truly some of the wittiest characters in these books and it is always so charming to see them interact with someone who is not only able to keep up with their snark but also indulges them

[ellievickstar]

Sinner's Sacrifice

A/N: Here's part 2 of Bloodied Bonds , i'm going for alliteration in the title hahah. it's a lot shorter than the first part i wish i made it longer but i feel like i was stretching it out i know i know it sucks to wait for parts i really wanted it to only be two parts long but i really had a "my story has it's own ideas" moment T^T. I'm so so sorry towards anyone who thought this would be the last part I can assure you I thought that too. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: As Azriel struggles to navigate a situation where he could lose you no matter what he chooses, take a look into his own heart.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel had lost count of how many hours it had been since he had threatened to eventually murder Elain.

And he was losing damned mind.

Every single day he had sat in the chair beside your sleeping form….you were breathing, which was an improvement from the heaving and choking in your sleep that alarmed Madja enough to order the inner circle to start taking turns watching over you. Madja believed that your condition improved because he was finally turning away from Elain, but that was what the bond sensed. Without your mind, your own belief to ensure your heart, your condition was bound to deteriorate again.

And yet you could not wake up so he could explain.

So he could apologise.

So he could beg for your forgiveness.

Everyday without making the decision to let Madja just remove the roots of the flowers seemed like a gamble, but after what had been discovered, what Cassian had caught Elain doing, the entire inner circle was not sure if it would be better to let your relationship go, or let you go.

Both scenarios, Azriel would lose.

In both situations, Azriel would lose you forever and a part of him felt like maybe he deserved it. If you ever woke up, ever wanted revenge to make him feel guilty for what had been done, regardless the fact that it had been out of his control, you would have gotten it in spades when he realised that his ignorance, his belief that he could help just one more person, his blindness to the Elain’s darkness, had caused him a situation that would cost him no matter what he did.

And in that, all he could do daily was hold your hand, and weep.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Go shower Azriel. It’s been three days,” Cassian said softly. The shadowsinger merely moved his head to gaze at his friend who leaned against the door frame. Not out of habit but because he genuinely needed the support. Azriel saw the eyebags under Cassian’s eyes, his tired exhausted expression not far from the one Azriel wore.

When Azriel simply shook his head, bringing his gaze back to his mate, not wanting to move another muscle, Cassian groaned.

“Azriel she won’t die within the time it takes you to take a quick bath, please, you need it,” However, Azriel once again did not move, this time not even deigning Cassian a response. The latter simply sighed before making his way towards Rhys’s office, pushing the door open to see Rhysand surrounded by various books, piles of them in the corner, some of them discarded with pages torn out.

“Rhys…?” Cassian knocked on the slightly ajar door.

Violet eyes met Cassian’s hazel ones and Rhys simply let out a breath before standing, checking the time by glancing at the window behind him, “Ah…it’s dark….I did not notice,” He simply stated awkwardly, moving to gather up some of the books from his desk, no doubt to bring it with him to his and Feyre’s room to further study until the waking hours of the next morning.

It broke Cassian’s heart to see his brothers in such a state.

Broke his own heart to see you lying there completely unconscious, every few days needing Madja to extract flowers from your throat.

The women of the house had isolated themselves to their own rooms. Mor came to your room every few hours to check on you however she stayed in her room surrounded by a similar book pile as Rhys, trying to consult her own oracles of truth to see if they had any answers. Amren had gone over to the summer court with Varian to see if they had any records that the Night Court did not, Nesta looked through the libraries with the priestesses, passing anything she found that may be useful to Feyre who scanned through them.

All this and nothing.

They had come up short.

Contacting Thesan, Helion, even Tamlin to see if there was any connections of the disease to the spring court, had come to nothing. No answers. No solutions.

Finally, as Cassian rounded the corner of the house he entered the room they had been keeping Elain in. There she was chained to the ground staring at the wall. For a moment Cassian would have felt bad for how hollow she looked, however his guilt was quickly swallowed by the anger he felt for what she had done to cause your current state.

“I see how you can help her…” Elain suddenly said, her eyes flitting to Cassian, “When minds connect, when you travel through souls,” She hummed before continuing to fiddle with the hem of her dress. Her cheeks were sunken in and hollow, her eyes now held a sharp and piercing stare instead of the soft glint. For once, Elain Archeron’s true colours were on full display.

At her words however, Cassian froze, his tone dropping to a dangerous timbre, “Do you know how to save Y/N,” Elain hummed, “I’ll tell you….for a price.”

“Do you really think that you are in a position to bargain?”

“She’s running out of time isn’t she?”

Cassian bit down on his tongue, hard. Storming out of the room he slammed the door shut, letting out a pained and frustrated roar.

Elain knew. Or at least there was a possibility that she knew. However, her calm demeanour and unflinching attitude showed Cassian no signs of lies. She knew how to save you but she wanted something out of it.

With a silent prayer, Cassian swore to himself he’d find the way to save you even if he had to pry it out of the memories in Elain’s dead body.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“So she knows how to save my sister,” Rhys confirmed, Cassian nodded, “That’s what she claims. If she’s lying then she’s damned good at it, however she’s suggesting a bargain, I didn’t pry into the details she was thinking of.”

Not without Rhysand himself present.

Not without Azriel.

The three brothers looked at each other, Azriel’s hand was holding yours, had been holding yours since Rhysand and Cassian had come into the room saying that they had something to discuss.

“We should ask her what she wants,” Azriel muttered softly, his voice hoarse and raspy from not using it for a while.

“And if she asks for your hand?” Cassian challenged, “Then we’ll find a way to break the bargain like how Feyre and Rhysand did, but for now our focus is to save her.”

It was then Rhysand recognised his brother for once after all this time, the shadow singer who would do anything to keep you safe, the self-sacrificing spy master who would sacrifice himself, his choices just to save you.

“Let’s go then,” Rhysand concluded, standing from his stool, Cassian pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and Azriel graced the back of your hand with a soft kiss before standing, casting you one last glance before following his brothers out. Nesta replaced Azriel’s position on the stool, promising the shadow singer to keep watch of you until he returned.

Following his brothers down the hallway, Azriel’s mind flooded with memories of sneaking down these halls to get away with you, memories of coming home and seeing you in the hallway, collapsing into your loving arms. Thoughts of your love and you consumed him and he shuddered under the weight of his own grief.

He could not lose you.

He would not lose you.

And so as Azriel stepped into the room of Elain’s captivity, levelling her with a glare, inside Azriel knew that he would sacrifice anything just to hold you.

Part 3 is here!!

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: please reply if you want to be tagged in part 3 people tagged in part 2 will not be tagged again in part 3 unless they ask in replies. Thank you <3

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl @helloworlditsmesblo (please ask if you want to be added to AZRIEL'S taglist - this is NOT the same as part 3 taglist)

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - Waffle House AU - Kol Drinks Coffee (questionable)

Part One here Part Two here Part Three here Part Four here Part Five here

“Order your own,” she glared.  

“How can I when—”

“Oh sorry, Caroline!” Short June scooted up next to the table, pulling her pad and a pen from her apron. “Didn’t see you had company, and Marcy’s in the back.” She shook her short black bob out of her face and smiled at Kol. “What can I get you?”

Kol leaned one arm on the table and propped his head up on his hand. “Hello darling. What can you get me?” His smile was all charm.

Caroline kicked him under the table.

“Oh.” His smile bounced off June like a rubber ball. She pointed at the menus stacked behind the condiments at the end of the table by the window. “Menus are right there, I can come back after you’ve had a chance to look them over. Do you know what you want to drink?”

Caroline was having this horrible moment of kinship with Caroline Bingley in Pride and Prejudice—the 2005 version, her favorite—when she asked if they are soon to be beset by every Bennet in the countryside: was every Mikaelson in the area going to show up and personally annoy her?

“Oh, he’s not stay—” she started.

“Coffee would be excellent.” Kol’s smile followed June as she left, and then he turned back to Caroline. “That hurt, you know,” he pouted.

She ignored that. “So fine, you’re alive. Congrats! What are you doing here?” Déjà vu.

“Well for starters, I’m—oh marvelous, darling,” he said, as June stopped by with another mug, a dish of creamers, filled his cup up, and left.

“For starters,” he continued, “I’m having coffee in what the internet informs me is a staple of Southern Americana.”

“You googled Waffle House?” Caroline asked, momentarily distracted by that detail.

Kol began opening creamers and dumping them into his coffee until it was an astonishingly light color. “I google everything. It’s the only way to catch up after being in a box for—” he lifted a hand, silently counted a few fingers, “—ninety-six years.” Pulling six sugars out of the sweetener caddy, he ripped them open and dumped the lot in. Stirring his concoction with a spoon, he said, “I love YouTube. Learned how to drive from that.”

Caroline winced as he took a sip from his cup. Good thing vampires couldn’t get cavities. “Okay so your no doubt stellar driving aside, what are you doing here, bothering me? We’ve literally never said two words to each other.”

He smirked at her over the rim of his mug. “Is Rebekah the only one who’s allowed to visit now? My, that will twist Nik’s knickers.” He snickered at the alliteration.

She leaned back in the booth and crossed her arms. “Your evil sister—”

“She’s my only sister, the evil part is implied.” Picking up the menu, he perused his choices.

“—wasn’t visiting, she was interrupting my late night study session. The way you’re doing.” She glanced pointedly at her notebooks.

“Didn’t look much like studying.” Kol smiled now, with teeth. “Looked like hunting.”

[t4tnt]

In response to your request for lyrics!

“All My Heroes”

I was wandering through the darkness when the piper came my way

We were humming to his hymns where the children play

He strung us along with a fiddle, a symphonic sham

We sang along as the lion took the lamb

All my heroes are con men and hypocrites

Bind them like Sisyphus

Roll down the mountain (x2)

The jester called us “son” like a father to the land

He kept us all in stitches, drowning out their cries for help

Never thought to doubt him, never stopped to think

He was slipping something into everyone’s drink

All my heroes are con men and hypocrites

Bind them like Sisyphus

Roll down the mountain (x2)

A prowler came on down in the vestures of a king

He spoke like one of us, and he promised everything

Turned our enemies to allies, spun lies into gold

He stole our rights from right under our nose

All my heroes are con men and hypocrites

Bind them like Sisyphus

Roll down the mountain (x2)

And they’ve taken every banner and flame

From these hollowed hallowed halls

All my heroes are con men and hypocrites

Bind them like Sisyphus

Roll down the mountain (x2)

ohhhhh thank you quinn, you're the best!! i LOVE them my brain is just going '!!!!!!!' at every line <3

especially 'hollowed hallowed halls'..... all those alliterations :eyes:

[lucyqueenofchaos]

The Assassin's Blade

⭐⭐⭐⭐: My heart has been ripped out of my chest and stomped on.

I finally read The Assassin's Blade. On my first read through of the Throne of Glass series, I was too excited and obsessed with the magic story line, so I skipped the Assassin's Blade. And I now know that was a mistake. A very big mistake. This review does contain spoilers, so please read at your own risk.

This collection of short stories is a must read in the Throne of Glass series. You can read it either before Throne of Glass, or between Heir of Fire and Queen of Shadows. I chose to read it between Heir of Fire and Queen of Shadows, and I currently feel like I made the right choice.

I like how each of the included novellas have their own contained story line, but they also contribute to the whole that is The Assassin's Blade. A wonderful blend of characters and environments, with such incredible variety. I loved that the Assassin's Blade explored so many different locations in Erilea, which is something I've always wanted to see more of in these books.

The Assassin and the Pirate Lord: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ This novella is a great start to our history of Celaena. Full of the action that we love, and shows off the true moral code of Celaena. I think this is honestly the earliest chronological time that we (as the reader) get to see the morals that Celaena holds true in her heart. And seeing her fear for Sam when the watchtower falls had me holding my breath as well! There are also some really visceral descriptions included in this first novella that honestly had me on the edge of my seat. I did feel that it was little slow in places, but I can forgive that.

The Assassin and the Healer: ⭐⭐⭐ This was a truly interesting read. Told almost entirely from Yrenes' POV, it played out a little differently than the rest. I liked Yrenes' character development - from a timid girl who has given up on her dreams, to a confident young woman who is on the path to greatness. I felt like even though it was really short, it did end up dragging quite a bit. I liked seeing Celaena teach Yrene basic self defense, and having read the series before it gave some much needed background on Yrene that I missed the first time around. Unfortunately the pacing of this one did hold the rating back on it for me.

The Assassin and the Desert: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Look, I'm trying to keep this review semi-professionally worded, but my heart is screaming "OMG THIS NOVELLA WAS SO GOOD!" It was quite a bit longer than the previous two, but that's because there was more to the story. Watching Ansen and Celaenas' relationship play out was beautiful. Not once did I suspect Ansen of being the spy, and I'm going to be brutally honest - that reveal just about broke me. Ansel and Celaena could have been thick as thieves for life if it weren't for this betrayal. I really enjoyed seeing Celaena get the point of the training The Master gave her (it gave me major karate kid vibes, but Celaena is less of a little shit). It also broke my heart to see Celaena come to the realisation that Arobynn is a manipulative, abusive man - and to see that The Master is everything Arobynn is not. And finally learning the tale behind the stolen Astarion Mare was the cherry on top. The Assassin and the Desert is for sure my favourite novella from The Assassins Blade.

The Assassin and the Underworld: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ For such a short novella, this one did certainly drag a bit. It felt like there was less action, and in my honest opinion; Celaena and Sams' relationship didn't live up to the hype. I think there were honestly a little toxic for each other, but young love is so sweet. I'm definitely not doubting the extent of their love for each other, but they're both pretty petty people (I just love alliteration), and they weren't good at effective communication. It was nice to see their affection for one another grow and change. Seeing more of Celaenas' apartment was also a lovely touch for me personally - I think it was a needed insight to her personality. I can 100% identify with Celaenas' shopping tastes - she's a girl after my own heart!

The Assassin and the Empire: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ No. I may not have thought Sam and Celaena were perfect for each other, but this destroyed me. I knew this ending was coming, I knew what happened at the end of their relationship right from day one. And it still broke me into a million pieces. There is something so personal, so heartbreaking about Celaena being betrayed like this. I read this novella while I was getting my nails done, and let me tell you - that was a huge mistake. I had to explain to my nail artist why I was crying like a baby. Don't forget that just when I thought the pain was over, The Lord of The North appeared to Celaena on her way to Endovier. In a beautiful moment, Celaena is reminded of herself, her duty, and that she will not be afraid. Summary: All the pieces of The Assassin's Blade come together perfectly at the end. As I am writing this I have just come to the awful understanding of the meaning of the title. The Assassin's Blade is Celaenas' anger. Her anger has been honed into the sharpest blade of them all, and I think this revelation is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Thank you for reading this review, I hope to continue posting more of my in-depth book reviews. Please check out my Goodreads profile for more of my previous reviews, and as always, my main social media accounts are linked below.

My Twitch <3 My Instagram ^-^ My Twitter :3 My TikTok :D

[the-heartlines]

20 questions for fic writers

thanks for tagging me @madsmilfelsen! ♥️

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 82...83..including the one i have on anon shhh ;)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 208, 351 words which is crazyyy

3. What fandoms do you write for? house of the dragon primarily because i'm OBSESSED. (thank you rhaegon) i have a eversnow oneshot from the hunger games, a snow/reader one from abosbas, a uncle/niece reylo one from star wars, a darklina daddaughter one from shadow and bone, a demon/witch haladriel one from the rings of power, a hellcheer one from stranger things, a momson soulbates one from bates motel.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? 

5. Do you respond to comments? 90% of the time, within a few days, unless someone is just like "update now!" or something not even saying they liked the fic lol. and honestly sometimes i read the comment and forget to reply lolol.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? ...oh god my very dead dove helaena/blood & cheese fic titled anything..."daemon targaryen sends his regards." indeed he did...

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? my modern rhaegon fic: one love, two mouths...i wrote that fic during a super difficult time in my life last summer and oof anytime i went back to that fic and wrote it for the weeks i did i poured everything angsty and all my feels into it and it turned out so so fucking good!

8. Do you get hate on fics? yes lmaooo...and sometimes i just get plain dumb comments that make no sense ??? like why'd you even continue reading??? i will never understand that!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? stealing mads answer of "hell yeah, fuck yeah" because HELL TO THE YES. i feel like i write super explicit, visceral smut with FEELING, whether that be possessiveness, anger, jealousy, love, LUST. it's all very encompassing and passionate...

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

if my helaemond twins inspired by reylo force bond counts this YES i have!

i need to expand upon that and write something longer!

11. free space / no question here, send me an ask with one instead please :)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? YES one love, two mouths was

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? not yet...but one day...a beloved bestie and i want to and have talked about it before! ;)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? my fave ships are a tie between rhaegon and helaemond and they are my fave fave fave to write! especially when they're fucking each other lol

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i will not tolerate this kind of negativity LOL but rn i feel like i won't ever finish my heldaemond sequel to peaked with crimson or my rhaegon oneshot inspired by the rape me scene in succession

16. What are your writing strengths? incest smut lol no but i think i add a power punch of emotions to even the most smuttiest fics. also my symbolisms & alliterations are awesome ;)

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i think some of my fics can seem similar but idk it's hard when it's INCEST and a brother wants to breed his sister =/ also i'll go back and read a fic of mine after a time and see quite a few grammatical errors or something DUMB...sooo...

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i used high valyrian in one fic and meh...i honestly forget about it ngl

19. First fandom you wrote for? house of the dragon

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? my rhaegon fics: poisonous veins & suffocator are tied for my top two favorite fics. also dragon sear; seared by sunlight is my most poetic and fave helaemond fic i've written

tagging: @unusual-raccoon @barbiedragon @humanpurposes

@stxrks @arcielee

[fayoftheforest]

hey hey!! random question but what do you think kyle's kids are like? or even cartman's kids. i've just been sitting in my little corner with my own little characterizations so i figured might as well break out of my shell a little and ask other ppl what their interpretations are, and ur rlly fun!! :D

Thank you so much for the ask!! I love all your art of Kyle and Cartmans' children very much, it's fantastic :D I thought long and hard, and have come up with these wildly unfounded headcanons for Kyle’s children, partially influenced by kidfics I have read by authors such as Hollycomb and Sekrit (credit to the latter for being the first to name Kyle’s kid Benji!)

Benjamin Bartholemew Broflovski: I’ve always headcanoned Kyle’s middle name as Benjamin. Likewise, I hc Bartholomew is a family name on Gerald’s side, so Kyle wanted to honour that too. Plus, he's a big fan of alliteration :D

Benji is an overachieving, do-no-wrong golden child. He plays a lot of soccer in his youth (watched over by Soccer Mom Kyle) but switches to basketball in high school after a generous growth spurt. He’s also academically gifted, getting great grades in all of his classes. His favourite subject is history, specifically early civilisation. Would you like to know how the ancient Egyptians mummified the dead? Or the process of constructing an ancient Roman road? Well, he’s going to tell you anyway, and the lecture will last no less than two hours, and no, you don’t get a break. The only time that Benji does not exude confidence is when it comes to dating when he's older, wherein he’s a flustered and stuttering mess. He’s got the Bitchless Broflovski curse, I’m afraid 😔

Despite his radiant childhood, he goes through a rebellious phase in his early teen years. He starts to worry that people see him as boring or stuck-up, and so acts out. I doubt he’d go full goth, but maybe he’d get busted for drinking on school property or something, camped out behind the bleachers with some of the Bad Kids. Kyle gets SO MAD that the full name is cracked out: "Benjamin Bartholemew Broflovski!" but Benji figures if it’s pissing his dad off, then he must be doing something right. This behaviour spirals out of control until he has a bit of a scare (someone gets hurt, but not seriously), and after Kyle comes to his rescue, the two have a good ol’ heart to heart and all is well once more :) 

During the brief moment we see him in Post Covid, Benji is shown wearing a kippah, which could indicate that he’s an orthodox Jew. However, Kyle’s lifestyle does not seem to adhere to orthodoxy on the show, and I imagine he’d raise Benji as a reform/liberal Jew, just like I think Kyle is. The kippah could be because they’re at a Denny’s Applebees Max, and some Jews choose to cover their heads when eating, but I believe that, like Gerald, he simply wears his all of the time. As the post-covid conclusion is a utopian vision, Benji has been raised without the same antisemitic bullying that his father experienced, and so has no shame or self-loathing about being Jewish. He’s proud and he’s passionate about his faith!

Ada-May Sheila Broflovski: Kyle strikes me as the kind of guy to name his daughter after a famous feminist figure. Ada is after Ada Lovelace, who’s widely considered to be the first computer programmer! The ‘May’ is a family name, double barreled because he likes the ring to it. Sheila is of course after his mother, who he may have his gripes with, but still loves very dearly.

Ada is a quiet child. Raised in her older brother’s shadow, she’s not as naturally gifted at sports, and despite her namesake struggles quite a lot with math. Kyle loves both his children equally of course, but sometimes he doesn’t know what to make of her, because she’s not very expressive and quite emotionally closed off at times. She really enjoys reading, particularly nonfiction, so Kyle finds ways to connect with her by talking to her about the books she enjoys, and reading her favourites with her.

Ada doesn’t have too many friends whilst growing up, which Kyle stresses over to no end, but she doesn’t mind too much, happy in her own little world. In high school she makes friends with Moisha, Cartman’s son, and they start the school paper together. This kickstarts her passion for photography, as she follows Moisha around with a camera whist he asks people invasive and leading questions. The pair get into a lot of trouble together, and many hijinks ensue. Kyle blames it on Moisha's upbringing by his inept father and secretly misses the days when Ada didn’t have so many friends.

Tzedakah (charity work) is one of the most important commandments that Jews are obligated to observe, and I can see Ada really connecting with this mitzvah. She loves helping people in need, and works on many, many charity drives and events throughout her youth. She inherits a strong sense of justice from her father, and I love the idea of them bonding over this! They volunteer every Wednesday night at a soup kitchen together, and Benji sometimes comes too, making it a family affair :D

So, those are my main headcanons for Benji and Ada at the moment! I’d love to hear anyone else’s thoughts if they’d like to share theirs as well. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to ramble!!

[stackthedeck]

Hiiiiiiiiii i kinda had a question #lol. The fact that you write is awesome and makes me wanna write too, but every time i try i feel like i have such a large amount of self doubt that comes with it. Every single scene i finish is accompanied by an "oh god this sucks" in my head. Im also having a lot of trouble getting character voices down?? Like wow. Writing's harder than i thought it would be🫡 anyways just wanted to see if you had like tips or anything for dealing with that😨😨😨

Okay so my most practical advice is for how to get character voice. What I'll do as a writing exercise is I'll pick an episode of a show or like a scene from a movie or maybe a podcast episode, pick a medium that has a focus on dialogue. Transcribe the dialogue as you watch or listen (pause or turn on subtitles as needed) and pause the thing between chunks of dialogue and add the action tags, describe what the characters are feeling, give them internal monologue, describe the setting. I know this sounds tedious and like it is and it might not work for you and you definitely can't post it. But it makes me super aware of characters' speech patterns, the way they pause between words, what nicknames or phrases they use often, etc. It's also something that I just pick up on naturally, like I'll talk like my friends not as like an impression of their voice but how they talk and people say it's spooky.

The short cut to nailing how a character talks is to steal dialogue directly from the source, have them use nicknames from canon, and like be aware of their general tone. Like in most situations, Deadpool leans into a more jokey way of speak while Spider-Man is sarcastic with dry jokes and Daredevil is serious and gruff. These will change with each situation you know characters have moods and stuff. But if you're familiar with the source material you're probably really close to a character's voice that you think

with original stories, if I want to create a strong voice for characters and narration, I'll do a writing warm up by going outside or like a library and describe what I experience. I'm not allowed to start writing my actual thing until I include all five senses in those descriptions. I also tend to narrate how I think which doesn't work for everyone but I love metaphors and alliteration so it works. With original characters, they're usually based on someone I know so I'll just memorize their exact words or watch videos that they send me. It's kinda creepy tbh. But rule of thumb is to always read your stuff out loud, heck I usually say the dialogue before I write it, and it gives it a more human sound.

Okay practical advice done now I gotta tell you the thing you won't like. The best way to get over the "this sucks" mentality is to just write a lot. Anytime I'm not so sure about my own writing, I got back to the Hamilton fanfic I wrote in middle school that I proudly put on the internet and sent to my friends and I think "okay it could be so much worse" self-doubt will always be a part of the process you will always be your worst critic. But also you've also gotta be your biggest fan, it helps to find someone else to hype you up, but I dare you to read what you've written a say at least one nice thing about it. Any time you're in the editing stage, say one nice thing about what you've written before you say something that's not working. When you finish editing, say one thing that you're happy you added. You gotta write a lot but you've gotta be good to yourself

[laughingwiththestorm]

DADDY

by TM Hogeman

He’d wanted to have kids someday. It wasn’t going to happen now. That was a sad thought. Maybe it was for the best, the way the world was going. That was an even sadder thought. Tyreese was normally a more positive guy, but it was hard to stay optimistic while cocooned to a wall.

Tyreese Shannon. Lance Corporal, Military Police. That was all you were supposed to say when you were a prisoner. He doubted his captors here would care much for his name and rank, though. The carnivorous alien arachnids from another dimension appeared to have more primal concerns than sorting out who they’d managed to capture. Hungry concerns, like digging those too toothy grins into a few of the unlucky people they’d killed when they came skittering out of the enveloping grey fumes that had swallowed the entire town, and in through the doors of the pharmacy.

Some, the live ones like Tyreese, the spider-things had plastered to the ceilings and the walls. Maybe food for later, maybe something else.

He wished that he could move his arm to scratch the incredible itch that was spreading from his back to his chest and face, radiating from the spot where several of the creatures had stung him with some kind of paralyzing poison before they wrapped him up against the wall.

Sam. That would’ve been the name of his first kid. He’d always liked the name, the rhythm and the alliteration. Sam Shannon. Samantha if it was a girl.

The whole thing was fundamentally notional; he didn’t have a woman in his life at the moment, and, given the way things were going today, he didn’t think he was going to be with another woman in this lifetime. But it was something to keep his mind off itch. The second kid would be Charles. The third kid? Maybe Charlene. Or Tyrone.

Tyrone, son of Tyreese. That had a nice ring to it.

***

The worst part about waiting to die was the boredom.

That, and the itch, but the boredom was what surprised him. Gave him way too much time to think, which in turn made him feel bad about the current predicament he and the others found themselves in.

The Project had seemed so badass when he’d first been assigned to it, heard the stories about experimental technologies that could look into other worlds, filled with impossible places and things.

Not nearly as badass when a surge from the electrical storm knocked all the precise calibrations out of alignment and into a perfect cascade of catastrophic consequence. His radio crackling with panicked screams from the base, only to be cut off by an overly calm broadcast from off-site command, ordering Tyreese and the other MPs to round up any wayward troops from town and prepare for emergency operations.

Yeah, they’d screwed up, majorly, and he’d been a part of it. A small part of it, but still part of it. That sucked, stuck on the wall, where not even the weight of all that culpability could pull him down. He’d run out of baby names hours ago.

Something familiar but new echoed through the cobweb coated shelves, something Tyreese had abandoned any hope for since he’d gone up on the wall: human voices. Flashlight beams punctured the shadows inside the store.

“Let’s just get what we need and get out of here.” Someone whispered harshly. Tyreese guessed they weren’t having the best day either. The newcomers crept through the aisles. Most of the spider-things slept soundly in their webs, the rest out stalking through mist soaked streets, searching for prey.

The group clanged and clamored to the back room of the pharmacy. Tyreese wanted to tell them to keep it down. He could hear the sleeping spider-things begin to stir at the all the sounds the intruders were making.

“Guys…hurry it up. I hear something.” One of the people said. Good, they’d finally realized they should tread more softly. They didn’t want to end up like Tyreese and the others.

“Something weird.” Another chimed in. Shut up, Tyreese thought.

One of their flashlights fell onto a woman webbed to the ceiling. The newcomers began to scream. Some wordlessly yelling, others spouting profanity.

This had the potential to go very badly for them.

The telltale chittering grew louder, the spider-things really waking up now. Gathering his remaining energy, Tyreese pulled his hand from the wall and onto the shoulder of one of the group. The man, a craggy face in mechanic’s overalls, spun around and screamed louder.

He felt bad for scaring the man. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tyreese choked out through the itching, somehow growing even more intense than it had been before. He pulled and shook against the wall. He had to get down, help them get out before the spiders fully awakened. “Help me,” he said, struggling against the webs.

“Oh man, he’s glued to the post.”

Tyreese could just make out the confused and terrified expressions on their faces through the haze of webs.

They really had no idea what was happening or why, and he couldn’t begin to imagine how frightening this all must be, without the context of the knowledge that he had. He started to explain, began at the beginning, “It’s all our fault…”

The itch got worse, and better at the same time, little strokes soothing it from the inside. He realized what was causing it; little feet, thousands of little feet scampering under his skin. “I can feel them…”

The others stepped away from Tyreese.

Finally some relief, all those little teeth and claws scratching at the itch. One spot on his face gave way entirely, tiny little spider feet tickling his nose as they stepped across his cheeks. Sammy. He would name it Sammy.

“Oh…my god.” One of the intruders said. More spots burst open as hundreds of baby spiders came crawling out of him. So, so many, and even after all that time spent just thinking of possible kids’ names, Tyreese didn’t have nearly enough. But it was okay. Good, even.

He was going to be a father after all.

*

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[serendipitys-teapot]

For the get to know your writer ask: 18, 55, and 57 😊

Thank you for the ask!

#18: Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

I'm chronically horrible at naming things, pretty much all the time always. I think I tend to be a literal person, so it's hard for me to think up names not directly pulled from or related to the fic in some direct way. My current on going long fic changed titles a few times during the planning process, and I had about 5 chapters written before I came up with anything, and that was after like 24 hours of agonizing over it. When in doubt, I always lean on alliteration, which is how Loyalty and Limerence came about.

#55: Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

So, my story is primarily in the POV of Garrus Vakarian, but not particularly because he's my favorite. He is certainly my favorite of all the squad members and I absolutely love him. But I think Shepard is still my favorite, and I enjoy writing her POV the most. My next WIP is going to be mostly Shepard POV and I'm super excited about that. I don't think my reader's reactions have influenced my opinions at all, though it is fun to see their thoughts after the rare chapters I write from the POV of people other than Garrus.

#57: Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished? 

So, I think I do a little bit of both? When I pick up my chapter to continue writing where I left off, I usually reread the last few paragraphs just to get back into the flow of it, and this includes making any changes that I feel need to be made. Then I reread the entire chapter to make edits before I send it to my beta reader. However, I feel like its a good idea to put something down for some time and come back to it later on with fresh eyes for editing, so after my beta sends it back, I usually let it sit a few weeks while I work on other chapters (unless it requires A LOT of work immediately). When I'm getting ready to post it, I will give it another full, careful read through and this is when I actually make most of the changes.

I enjoyed answering these, thank you for taking the time to read them! 🥰

[pleb-the-original]

Day 21: Unicorn

(so I had a lot of time to write this due to an event but the idea did take a bit to form. I had started with the idea of a demon unicorn farmer but I wasn’t sure where to go with it until I remembered that, well, unicorns are purifiers which makes a perfect juxtaposition. then because of the narwhal thing I made the farmer a Freezie which is an ice demon. to clarify, she’s a snowy owl.) Every time I have a new customer come by, it's always the same question. “Why is a demon farming unicorn horns?” I can never blame them, honestly. To most people it probably wouldn’t make any sense. Why would such pure creatures withstand being around us monsters? That’s where our training comes in. This has always been a family business, only those of us willing to commit ourselves are given the opportunity to work with the unicorns. We have to give up any other kind of job, especially human torturing, in order for the unicorns to stand us. We’re not fully clean, thank Lucifer. We’re allowed some mild sinning thanks to the unicorns getting used to us. They’re still extremely pure which feeds into the quality of their horns. Every time I have to try and shave one down for a jar of flakes, I have to put on a gas mask. No I am not joking, I have it right here. One wrong move and suddenly my blood would become pure water which isn’t very good. That’s also why we have doctors on speed dial. We even make our own drink mixes just to keep our blood extra acidic just in case. I personally make mine out of nitric acid, gila monster venom, and a dash of drain cleaner and ice water for the boost to the soulflake. Don’t believe me. Everyone always doubts. That’s why I got these. Having a lot of blood means I can have these extras whenever I need demonstrations like this. Now normally I would use a flake but I’m feeling in a bit of a mood so I’ll get the gloves and show you a full horn. You just gotta dip it in and…there. Pure water. They always have that same look you got too. The look where they finally realize that a demon can tell the truth every once in a while. Oh no it's ok, this is how it always goes. It’s when they don’t buy anything afterwards that gets my feathers ruffled. Oh you want the full horn? That’s gonna cost you a lot. I’ll take a gallon of some nice ice water if you don’t mind. Yes really, are you new here? Of course you are. Just now other Dark Market attendants like me never ask for money, just indulge our whims. We’re still demons. I’ll just write you an I.O.U. that you can cash in whenever you get that water. Just slap the tag on and it’ll be teleported to me where the horn is. Oh no, those I didn’t make, they were one of my sister’s ideas. Now then off you go. Oh, and don’t forget to tell others to come by Qila’s Quality Corn Horns! More advice about the Dark Market, never groan at how we name our stores. Be glad mine is just alliteration, cause there’s gonna be a lot of puns the further you go.

[grobleen]

Yeah, I might seem so strong Yeah, I might speak so long I've never been so wrong

The salt-crusted ground cracked and exploded around her, rubble flying without direction. In that moment, Cregan was certain this was the end, though there wasn’t even time for her to feel anything about it.

As she was swallowed by a cold darkness, the song of rock colliding back with the ground carried her into unconsciousness.

When it comes to her retirement, Cregan usually only mentions the part about being exiled because the empire wanted to gather up its more known warriors and ship them off where they couldn’t cause controversy for the elite/imprison them for war crimes the empire ordered but shhhhhh thats in the past we cant make peace until we at least appear like we’re trying to make ammends. 

She does not like to talk about how she was caught unawares and nearly disemboweled. She does not like to talk about immediately passing out and how she would be dead if it weren’t for her friend (well friend is a little generous; as civilians they’d never be friends, but in battle there was an undeniable chaotic chemistry between them). She does not like to talk about the days of being weak as a tadpole stuck in her recovery tank, the weeks it took to get back on her shaky legs, the months of arguing that she wanted to go back into battle- fit or unfit- because she needed to feel like herself again, or the years she had in-transit on her way to Neopia to dwell on just how far she’d fallen in such a short time. Everything she knew now perched out of her reach as she sank into some murky backwater, left to wait for death like an old toad.

She was supposed to explode like a dying star, burning brightly, blinding and beautiful on the battlefield, where her blood and body belonged...

[feysandfeels]

Mi gente bella, mi gente hermosa (My beautiful people, my gorgeous people),

It is the last morning of the fair year that was 2021 and as we all look back bringing healthy nostalgia painted in hues of gratitude, I cannot help but bring you all into my memories. I have been in this place for more than a decade and I have been part of this book and Sarah J Maas fandom for enough years that I do carry the tittle of elder with pride, yet it wasn’t until this year I decided to reengage with you all here. What a sunny decision that was. Coming back to find old friends still perusing these waters, which showed me the special sweetness that only comes in reunions (I love this story arc for us) and coming back to find new friendships to discover really became a beacon of light during this year and a gentle reminder that goodness is the common denominator. 

I would not be the person that I am today if it were not for you and your laughs, jokes, art (you guys are so talented, please continue writing, please continue painting, editing and creating mood boards and gifsets), perspectives, analysis and sometimes the very very very odd smut recommendations. Please know that when you are doubting whether you are good in your art, know that I think you are brilliant and I was trained as a snobbish academic so I am judgy and I judge your art to be inspiring. 

I will forever carry with me those of you with whom I shared my acting life and who watched my monologues...words will never be enough to truly describe how warm you made my heart feel. Thank you for indulging me with my mirror selfies, for holding my hand during my grandad’s death (I still have those saved because they meant so fucking much), for the birthday messages, for the asks, for reading my convoluted yet lovable posts and enjoying my tags.  

You are all golden in my eyes and if you ever need to bury a body know that I have the tools to do it and will gladly help you. Know that I am grateful for you, for the stories that we shared, for the ones that we will continue to share, for the imaginary bottles of wine we will open, for the princes of hell, high lords, kings, princes, warriors, whatever Thomas Cresswell is -I haven’t read the books- we get to lust after and marry and fight for, for the time that perhaps we get to meet face to face and go book shopping (lets face it this is always part of the plan): I am grateful for all of it, for all of you. 

And lastly know, please know that I am humbled and honored that out of all the people in this community in this earth you chose me to be your friend. But also, excelente taste. 

I don’t know what next year might bring, but you will always have a friend in me. I will remember you always and send you light and mischievous darkness every day.

Lots of Latin Love, Lu.

(one last alliteration for the road). 

@briannamcfraser @cassianandfenrysaremyboyos​ @rhysand-vs-fenrys @bookofmirth @moononastring @aurips @ssardothien @witching-by-the-willow  @quinlars @helion-ism @carolynmezzosoprano @evolving-dreamer @spell-cleavers @foxybananaaaz @positivewitch @mourningfictionalcharacters @/wherever my beautiful Liz is now @timesconvert @ratabrasileira​ @/whichever blog you are using now Helena. 

To those with whom I’ve talked in those discord groups (i don’t have your @s but this is for you too) and to many many many more bright beautiful souls. 

FELIZ AÑO NUEVO!!!

[shoutogepi]

Shinsou Says

Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 5k

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]  

themes : sauce alert !!! dom!shinsou, (shy)sub!reader, quirk use, teasing, dirty talk— kitten dynamics w surprise daddy

bio : Shinsou comes over in the dead of the night to find you touching yourself without permission, and he immediately has the perfect punishment in mind.

author’s note : i.. i’m not sure where this came from tbh cuz i’m not much of a shinsou fucker but… these days he has just been hittin different 😳😅

side note : usually i use the first name for bf smut, but a part of me really just wanted to keep the alliteration with Shinsou Says/Simon Says so deal with it lmao

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄰 breathy sigh floats from your lips as your back arches off the mattress, the sheets beneath you damp with sweat. The blankets at your feet are spilling off the edge of the bed, a crumpled pile of havoc collecting on the floor. You can’t help but writhe and moan, your fingers prodding gently against your clenched walls.

The clock on the other side of the room flashes red numbers at you, reminding you that it’s much too late to call your boyfriend over. You’d gone to sleep at a reasonable hour, but you had awoken in a sweat and in the most lustful state, very much craving his touch. However, you’re aware that he has a demanding profession, and to bother him into coming over just to fulfill your wanton needs— you couldn’t possibly bring yourself into sending him a text.

The moonlight streams into your bedroom through the cracks between the blinds, illuminating the area in a soft white glow. Your phone casts a dim light in the darkness of the room, your headphones twisting as your body squirms around. The intimate video he had taken just a few sessions ago lighting up your screen, his heavy breaths fill your ears as your fingers slide across your sopping core. Teasing yourself, dipping the digits in two knuckles deep and rubbing your walls for a moment before taking them back out, trailing north to touch your clit.

You close your eyes, letting your memories take over and attempting to replay the feelings you know he can give you. Coaxing your body into recalling how his smooth palms feel as they hold your legs open, his wet kisses trailing around your torso and spending extra time on your breasts. Fuck, the thought of him whispering those nasty words he always says as his nimble fingers delve into your heat.

It’s no wonder you don’t hear the front door open.

Shinsou steps into the dark apartment, the light from the hallway licking against the wooden floor in contrast to the shadowy room. He frowns, taking the spare key out of the doorknob as quietly as he can. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea to come over unannounced in the middle of the night? But after such a long day and a hopeless few hours of attempting to sleep, he’d found himself briskly walking the couple of blocks that separated the two of you. He told himself that all he’d wanted was to slip into bed and wrap his arms around you… but then again, there was the raging hard on he’d been sporting for the past hour.

All doubt leaves his mind as he hears a soft moan leak out from your bedroom, his ears almost physically perking in interest as he hurriedly takes off his shoes. He tries his best not to make a single sound, silently padding across the floor towards your door.

He can hear all the noises tumbling out of your throat now, your unrestricted whimpers of pleasure making his fingers itch with prickles and warmth rush through his body toward his pants. The door is cracked just shy of allowing him unnoticeable entrance, and he can’t help himself as he slides into the room, cringing as the hinges squeak in protest. But you don’t notice him at all, his recorded groans stopping your ears from picking up the alerting noise.

Shinsou is glad you hadn’t heard him, because the look on your face is damn ethereal. Your features contorted in rampant euphoria, he watches your hands slide along the body he adores so much, sucking in a breath of air as your lips part and let out a particularly heavy moan.

“Ugh, Shinsouuu.”

His pants suddenly feel incredibly tight, and he licks his lips, shifting his weight between his feet. The noise of your fingers plunging into your wet cunt falls heavily on his ears, making him bite his lip. Fuck, how long have you been touching yourself for? And is that your homemade sextape playing on your phone?

“Ahah— you feel so fucking good!”

Your cries throw him over the edge, his body moving before his brain can process the command. He’s at the edge of the bed in three strides, menacing over your oblivious figure rolling against your own hand.

“My, my, kitten.”

The gasp that rips through you sends a cocktail of dread and desire washing through his bones, your eyes flying open to meet his predatory gaze.

“Shinsou!” This time you squeak it out almost shamefully, your fingers flying from your pussy and landing flat on the bed next to your hips. The embarrassment thrown over your cheeks makes him gush on the inside, but all that surfaces to his face is a smirk. His eyelids are hung at half mast, his watchful violet eyes regarding you.

“Ah ah, don’t stop on my accord darling. You’ve got me quite invested in this show of yours,” he tantalizes, knees falling atop the plush mattress.

A whimper escapes you, your eyes shutting briefly at the tone in his voice. You can feel the bed dip as he slides closer to you, tugging the headphones out of your ears and disposing of them next to the pillow above you. He hangs his body over yours, hands so teasingly close to your skin.

“Did you hear me, kitten? I said, keep touching yourself,” he demands, his voice level and clear.

Your eyes still screwed shut, your now clammy palms rub on the sheets, mortified to have been caught committing such heinous acts of desire. “I— I can’t, Shinsou, it’s too… I’m so embarrassed,” you whine, brows drawing together as you wiggle slightly underneath him in distress. The friction of your thighs rubbing together makes your arousal spread, coating your skin with slick.

His lips only pull back further, grinning down at you joyfully. “What d’ya mean, kitten? I should be mad you were being naughty and playing with yourself like that, but knowing you’re so desperate for me…” he leans in closer, lips grazing the sensitive skin on your jaw as you throw your head to the side. “Well, what kind of hero would I be if I left my kitten all alone, knowing she’s in such distress?”

His words make a moan of shock and want slither out of you, your back bending and pushing your body against his. Your purple-haired boyfriend really has quite a way with words. Your fingers meet his knees, gliding up his lean, muscular thighs and dragging your fingernails along them. “Please, I— god, I need you so bad,” you plead, hips adjusting as you look at him again.

His eyes are drinking you up, traveling over your sinful pout to your hands on his legs, and then to that glistening pussy of yours that he just knows is fucking soaked. “Mmm, let’s see how I can help then,” his lips greet yours forcefully, passionately engaging them in a desperate dance. His hand slides under your curved back, dry fingers curling along the damp skin in contrast, his dull fingernails sending shivers to your spine. He pulls away and grabs the hand that had been in your cunt, capturing your gaze as his lips rove over your fingers. His mouth taking them in and lathering his tongue along your skin, he savors the tangy flavor of your desire with an intense look.

“You’re too embarrassed to show me how you touch yourself, baby? Why so shy?” His words only make you impossibly wetter, and your lip trembles as you mewl softly in response.

Shinsou accepts the noise as a reply, tilting his head slightly as an idea comes to mind. He sits up, his hand sliding up to the center of your back and taking you with him.

“Do you wanna play a game, kitten?” His inquiry has you curiously regarding him, trying to see if there is any ill intent lingering in him. But you can’t find anything, only being sucked into his ravenous eyes. He presses further, wanting to convince you more than anything to play along. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

You do trust your boyfriend after all— he’d never misguided your desires before, always satiating your every need. So you find yourself nodding again, arms wrapping around his neck hesitantly.

The grin on his lips makes your heartbeat quicken.

Shinsou’s hands cup the backs of your thighs, scooping you into his arms as he slides off the bed. He steals your focus away as his lips cover yours again, his tongue roaming along your bottom lip. You gladly allow him entrance, and you jump slightly as your ass touches the cold wooden floor. Peeking up at him, your breath stops in your throat at the preying look in his eyes.

“We’re gonna play a game called Shinsou Says.” You let out a moan immediately, your hand flying up to cover your lips a second too late. The pure action makes the man chuckle, his hand giving your ass a playful squeeze. “You familiar with it?”

Simon Says— you’ve played it before. Maybe back when you were younger… but you have a feeling that Shinsou’s game is going to be a lot nastier than your past experiences. This could go either very right, or very wrong. “Yeah…,” you trail off, wondering what your boyfriend’s intentions are exactly.

As if he can see the lingering wariness in your eyes, he continues. “I’m gonna tell you what to do, and you’re gonna follow my commands. If you follow my instructions without me saying ‘Shinsou says’, the game is over and you lose.”

“Is there a punishment for losing?” You ask, maybe a bit too quickly because his lavender eyes glint at you with hunger.

“Not really… you just don’t get the winning prize.”

Interest piqued, you look at him expectantly. “Well tell me what it is already!”

“The prize is my cock, baby.” Your eyes widen and fall to his lap, regarding the sizable tent in his pants. “You’ll be rewarded kindly if you show me that you can be a good girl for me. I can’t just forget that you were touching yourself without me, like a little slut. Prove to me you’re my good girl.”

Fuck, he’s a good talker. His words sound so tempting, and if you play the game, he’ll be murmuring those intoxicating desires into your ear all night. You straighten your spine with confidence. You can prove that you’re a good girl.

“If you wanna stop at any point, you’ll be able to. Just say the word and we’ll stop, okay kitten?”

Even though your lip is between your teeth, you nod once again, the idea of the game appealing to you. If you just follow his instructions, it doesn’t really count as touching yourself… right? It can’t be as embarrassing...

His pleased smile is enough to make your lungs rattle with anticipation. His hands land on your waist, his fingers massaging the flesh there tenderly. “Shinsou says, turn around.”

You were planning on following his command, yet your body finds it already acting on its own accord. A tight feeling of excitement and a shred of fear bubbles in your chest, realizing that he’s using his quirk on you. He’s never used it on you before, and in all honesty, you had been wondering when he would finally man up and test it on you. When you finally turn, you aren’t expecting to find yourself in front of your floor length mirror, and your cheeks immediately flush with a telling red.

His quirk is interesting— it doesn’t feel intrusive, more like your movements are the true desire of your limbs and he is just oiling you up into performing them. This already exceeds your expectations.

You hesitantly observe yourself in the mirror, looking at the slick glaze that drips down your inner thighs. Shinsou follows the action, sitting behind you and sliding his hands under your thighs, parting your legs widely and trailing his fingers along your skin. You lean back into his chest, getting comfortable and licking your lips.

“Shinsou says,” he grumbles into your ear, watching your reflection as your pussy clenches at the words, “cup your breasts and gently pinch those nipples, kitten.”

Your exhale is shaky as your fingers collect the heavy flesh, your palms gliding along the sensitive skin. You whine as your fingertips roll the perky buds, your actions not your own but delighting you nonetheless. Your hips roll slowly in the air, shutting your eyes and tossing your head atop his broad shoulder.

“Sensitive today, are we?” His low chuckle draws another whimper from you, and the luscious noise only spurs him further. “Wow, I’ve never seen you so fucking wet before. Look at yourself.”

You keep your head where it is, an almost pained look washing over your features at having to keep the game in mind. Shinsou’s quirk is absent in your hazy mind, not pushing you into performing the incorrect action.

“Hmm, what a clever kitten I have,” he purrs, fingers running along your skin. “Now— Shinsou says— look at how soaked you are for me. And don’t you dare look away.”

Your head turns and your cheeks feel on fire as you take in your reflection, as well as the haughty smirk resting on Shinsou’s lips. Your eyes travel to your sex, and you stop breathing as Shinsou’s lithe fingers inch toward it. They delicately land along your slit, the tips running between your petals teasingly. They brush over your clit for a moment, almost mocking you as they disappear from your core completely.

“Shinsou says, touch yourself like I just did, and keep at it, too.”

Even with his quirk guiding your movements, you find yourself wanting to follow his commands. You arch into his chest, whimpering as your nails give your swollen cunt a different sensation. Your fingers just as gentle and teasing as his had been, your lust skyrockets as your touch ghosts over your clit again. You sigh, watching how your actions cause your cunt to flutter in anticipation.

The action does not go unnoticed by Shinsou, who seems delighted by your telling body. His dick is achingly hard, but the premise of the game has him holding back. He wants to push you into becoming comfortable touching yourself like this. In front of him. He wants you to see how beautiful you are when you spread yourself for him like this, how you have nothing to hide.

“Shinsou says, ease your middle finger inside that drenched cunt for me, baby.” Your finger slips into your hole, pushing all the way to the knuckle and whining when your own digit doesn’t reach as deep as you want. As deep as Shinsou’s fingers can reach.

“Please, Shinsou, fuck,” you moan, your eyes still glued to your pussy. Your finger just sitting there inside yourself, your hips shift in order to find more stimulation.

“Now fuck yourself with it.”

You cry out, your finger still frozen in your pussy. What a tease! It’s not fair, this game is too cruel. Anguish washing over you, you glare at his reflection.

The anger rolling off of you makes him laugh, but he closes his eyes, leaning in to start pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses on the column of your neck. “Shinsou says, finger yourself, kitten.”

Your finger immediately starts moving, curling in and out of your slick cunt with fervor. The pad of your fingertip pressing intently, your body shivers at the sudden stimulation. “Ahhh~ Shinsou!”

“Shinsou says, add another finger.”

The familiar stretch makes your legs shake, your back pressing into his chest. He continues his assault on your neck, but his hands leave you in favor of stripping off his jacket and his shirt. His wild purple locks shift as he pushes your body into his naked skin, collecting your thighs in his hands once again.

His teeth nip across your collarbone, tongue washing over the reddened skin in a soothing manner. “Wish those were my fingers in your pretty pussy, kitty cat?”

The filthy words he utters make your already prominent blush intensify, your legs straining against his grasp. All you can do is moan, enjoying the stimulation your fingers dutifully provide. You meekly choke out, “More, please— I need it!”

Shinsou considers your dissolute request, watching the way your fingers thrust into your throbbing hole. You’d never been so desperate before, and he wonders again how long you’d been touching yourself before he’d arrived. Gauging how eager your actions are, he attempts more foul play. “You want more? You nasty slut. Go on then, rub your clit for me.”

Your hand jerks to complete the action but immediately you gasp and slap it back down against your thigh. Your breath is shaking, your fingers pressing faster into your cunt. You look at Shinsou with pleading eyes, a mewl croaking out of you.

The bastard raises a purple brow at you, leisurely returning to kissing your neck. “Aha, that was cute, kitten, I’m impressed.”

The pleasure and the build up from his taunting words send bolts of pleasure through your body, and you begin to feel your orgasm building once again. Frantic for more of his touch, your body wriggles with urgency.

He sucks in a tight breath as your ass grinds into his crotch, your body begging for his touch. “Shinsou says, stay fucking still.”

Your body freezes harshly on its own accord, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull as Shinsou’s hand creeps down your pelvis, his fingers sliding along your own that are halfway in your pussy. He lubes the digits up on your excessive arousal, sliding the pads back up to massage your clit.

“Fuck!” You clench around your fingers at the novel sensation, and your eyes nearly shut as his other hand grabs your wrist, pushing your digits back into yourself.

“Shinsou says, tell me how that feels, darling.” His fingers on your nerve won’t quit, and the other hand shoves your fingers into your twitching cunt at a rapid pace.

Your jaw is slack, words unable to be voiced as your eyes dart between his arrogant smirk and his heavenly hands. But your body is not your own, and the words that come out of your mouth make your embarrassment increase tenfold. “It feels so fucking good Daddy!”

His movements halt and you let out a broken wail, your impending orgasm vanishing without a trace. Your wide eyes meet his in the reflection, both of you in shock at the term that he’d summoned from you.

You are his kitten, that had been established pretty quickly into your relationship. But he’s never heard such a scandalous term dare to come from your lips before.

It has him feral.

It happens so quick, you can’t even gasp as his hand closes around your throat.

“Daddy, huh?” His gaze on yours is like lava, molten desire oozing out of him so forcefully you can almost hear the crackle and sizzle. His other hand roughly shoves down his pants, thumb ripping his briefs southward.

His long length slaps his pelvis and although you cannot see it, your body shivers in excitement, ready to be split in two and filled to the brim. Your fleeting shame now crushed by your overwhelming famine for him. “Please,” you beg, the excitement of it all too much.

“Daddy’s perfect kitty-cat,” he groans, yanking you to sit up so you’re on your knees, thighs shaking. “You want Daddy to fuck this slutty little pussy? Huh, kitten?”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy—  Please!” You’re practically groveling with the words that come out, like a delirious prayer on your lips.

The hand on your neck slips back to fist the hair at the base of your skull, and he shoves you forward roughly so your hands fly out to catch yourself. Tugging on the hairs, he forces you to look at your reflection up close, your knees propping your hips up to the perfect height.

Your heart thuds in your rib cage as the head of his cock glides along your glassy entrance. A growl rumbles in his chest as he watches your strands of slick stretch as he takes his cock away, connecting your cunt to his length as if tempting him to just shove it in.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, making your eyes open and lock onto his. Your ass lowers so the tip brushes along your folds again, and you pant desperately as he grins at you. “You’re my sweet little kitten— all mine. Got it?”

You nod again. Words are just so hard to come by tonight.

His hand that isn’t on your hair slaps your ass abruptly, eliciting a loud moan from you. His fingers dig into the reddened flesh, his tongue running eagerly underneath his teeth. “Now, Daddy says…”

Your lip trembles, pussy fluttering as you look at him once more.

“Make yourself cum on my cock.”

He doesn’t need to activate his quirk this time. Your hips smash downwards, your cry and his moan filling the room as you take every inch of him, his hard cock spreading your tight walls with ease. You don’t allow yourself to accustom to his intrusive size, immediately bucking your ass upwards before slamming back down.

Shinsou’s eyes roll back, his hand laying still on your ass as you bounce on his dick, stealing his breath away. Fuck, the feeling of your steaming cunt squeezing him so well— it makes him want to dominate you.

His thick cock hits just the right spot deep inside of you, and your wetness drips onto the floor beneath you in excess. You can’t help the unabashed moans and cries floating from your lips, your twice-denied orgasm already coming back and making its presence known.

The purple-haired man notices your imminent climax too. The sounds that you’re releasing, and the way your cunt grasps his length so desperately— it's not like you’re hiding it very well. His hand claps across your ass again, and a snarl leaves him at how you clench on his cock in response.

His hand leaves your head, making your face drop and your chin drag against the floor. His hands dig into your hips, spreading your cheeks and forcing your hips onto his with purpose. He thrusts upwards as your ass crashes down, soliciting the most delicious shriek from you. Shinsou groans, forcing a pace that repeats the action so swiftly your body hums and bright stars dance along the corners of your vision.

“Did you fucking hear me, kitten?”

Your eyes open blearily, tears dotting your lashes at the sheer pleasure he’s causing. His expression is malicious, slitted eyes glaring at your mirror image, as if tempting you to follow his command.

“Daddy says, he wants you to cum.”

The pressure in your stomach heightens suddenly, so much that your jaw drops and your legs shake, your body tightening up. And then you’re orgasming, cunt squeezing the life out of his cock and thrashing on his hips in ecstasy.

His hands only tighten on your hips, and his pace does not dwindle as he plows into you with ease. The continued stimulation on your g-spot makes a trail of drool run down the corner of your mouth, your eyes rolled back all the way. The persistent tempo of his thrusts draws out a string of unintelligible pleas from you, and he finally stops to give you a second to catch your breath.

Your body melts into a puddle on the floor, the forced orgasm having taken a startling amount of energy from you. Shinsou gives a tentative thrust, a soft whine dislodging from you. Wrapping his arms under and around your thighs with his hands landing beneath your ass, he pulls you off the ground, sinking to his knees in front of the mirror. He spreads your legs mercilessly, lowering your body and sinking his cock into your aching cunt.

“Mmmmph, Shinsou,” you whimper as you’re struggling for words, your body feeling a confusing mix of heaviness and lightness. Your mind is still foggy, trying to readjust after your orgasm has devastated you so harshly. You body hadn’t had enough time to prepare itself, Shinsou had just ripped the orgasm out of you before it was ready.

Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, another mewl releasing as he pushes his cock inside again.

“Shh, shh shh kitten, don’t you worry. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you, just like he always does,” Shinsou breathes into your ear, sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering with renewed energy.

The moans just keep coming out of you as his strong arms guide you to sit on his dick, sheathing himself inside you all the way and then rutting his hips up into you to rub that spot that makes you quiver. Your head not as cloudy as before, your hand wanders to your breast and you tug your nipple with your fingers.

“Mhmm, doesn’t that feel good?” He inquires, dropping your body a bit quicker on his length. Your lips open in the shape of an ‘o’, your other hand trails down your thigh. “You wanna touch yourself, darling? Not so shy anymore, are you?”

You shake your head, licking your lips at the mirror before you. It displays the sinful image of Shinsou impaling you with his mighty cock, folding your body like a flimsy lawn chair.

“Daddy says, lick your fingers and rub them on your clit,” he orders, thrusting into you faster.

Your hand on your thigh instantly flies to your lips, parting them and shoving your fingers into your mouth. You moan as your tongue lathers the digits in your spit, making Shinsou bite down on the tip of your ear and growl. Your body lurches as your fingers meet your clit, your entire core tightening at the added pleasure. “Fuck! Shinsou, ahhh— I—  ughhh,” you can't stop the groan that slips out, your overstimulated g-spot sending euphoria rushing through you with every thrust.

“Ready to cum again, kitten?” He pesters, the tension amplifying in his stomach. Just the game had him all riled up, and now, after your intense orgasm and displaying yourself like this… well, he’s getting pretty close himself.

“Yes, please just… give it to me, Daddy,” you whine, your body bracing for the impact of another orgasm. With no control over your fingers on your clit, all you can do is accept the sparks zipping through your limbs.

Shinsou drops your hips to meet his as they buck upwards at a rapid pace, the breath in your lungs being stolen as you fall off the edge, your second orgasm slicing through you. The pressure alleviating from your core, your lips part and a long whine tumbles out. Clear fluid spurts onto the mirror and the floor as you tremble against his slick chest, cunt tightening and spasming violently.

Shinsou lets out a suspended groan, the image of your release splashing out of you combined with the feeling of you gripping his cock so forcefully coaxing out his orgasm. He fills your womb with warmth, his grip on your thighs weakening.

The room is filled with ragged breaths as you both remain in a state of bliss, Shinsou’s length massaging your raw pussy as he slowly cradles your body against his. Your eyes are closed, your cunt throbbing and tingling with the aftershocks of your climax.

Shinsou presses feathery kisses onto the mauled skin on your neck. There’s a ridiculously dark and large hickey forming there, but you can’t bring yourself to give a damn as he licks the bruising skin with care.

He intently watches a thick stream of white trickle out of your pink cunt and down his balls. Your body droops against his, exhaustion ebbing into your form. Shinsou pulls out of you and you whine as his heated cock leaves your trove, the stretch immediately being missed.

“How do you feel, kitten? You alright?” He asks, adjusting you in his arms as he stands, holding your body with discretion. He carries you over to the bed, laying you on the now-cold sheets.

Your overstimulated core throbs in protest as you shift, pushing the hair off your sweaty forehead. “I’m good, I'm just so tired… and I can’t believe I just—” you cut off, glancing at him with a slightly embarrassed look in your eyes.

Shinsou smirks, but the pride beams through his faux-suave expression. “Squirted? You sure did, kitten. And it was hot as hell.” He crawls onto the mattress next to you, his long arms encircling your waist.

Snuggled into his warm chest, you sigh in content, your body buzzing numbly from the lingering head-rush of your peak. He always knows what to say.

“You did so well, baby, I’m so proud of you.” His words are soft and sweet now, warm and considerate. “You proved it to me, darling, you’re such a good girl.”

Your lips mould into a sated smile, which you press into the smooth skin of his muscular chest. Before you can slip away into a restful slumber, Shinsou’s fingers collect your chin, gently tugging it up so your eyes meet his.

“Good girls don’t touch themselves though, kitten. This time you were lucky I came over here needing you just as bad as you needed me.” He pulls you into a deep kiss, making your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers glide into his soft, amethyst tresses. He hums deeply, pulling back and stealing your gaze with a lazy yet ominous glower.

“But if I ever find you touching yourself again,” he pauses, lavender eyes twinkling with a refreshed carnality that makes you shiver, “Daddy’s gonna figure out just how many orgasms it takes to make you soak these sheets all the way through.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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thank you so much for reading!! I hope it was alright, as I said, I’m not well versed in the Shinsou realm heheh 

make sure to let me know if you enjoyed ♥︎ 

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | two

A/N: Thank you guys for all the positive feedback on Part One!  I’m so happy you guys are enjoying the series thus far.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                  *     *     *     *     *

Brock Boeser was intoxicated by the feel of Grace’s lips.  It was all he could think about and all he could feel every time he was alone and closed his eyes.  Well, that was a lie – that wasn’t all he felt.  Sometimes he could feel the weight of Grace’s body on his lap, like when they would make out like teenagers on each other’s couches after hanging out or before hanging out or during hanging out – any time, really.  Sometimes he could feel her long hair sprawled across his chest from when they lay in bed together.  Sometimes he could hear her giggle or see her smile or hear her voice being the kindest, most polite and gentle person on planet Earth to everyone and anyone she’d meet.  

For what it was worth, Grace Gillespie was intoxicated by the feel of Brock’s body.  It was all she could think about every time she was alone, and she found herself dreaming about the next time she’d be able to feel it.  His strong arms with his toned biceps; his abs, defined by a work schedule and sport that took up most of his time; his thick thighs…but what she loved most had to be his back.  It was weird for her to say, but it was.  It was the definition – she could see every muscle.  She could trace every bump with her fingertips and make him shiver.  The entirety, all of him, was just so…beautiful.  

It was Grace who had inadvertently given it away, so to speak – them seeing each other – when she uploaded a story of herself at the Canucks season opener.  The rumours started in no time.  The story was screen-recorded and posted on every blog imaginable because Brock Boeser was, well, Brock Boeser.  He was hot, and nice, and sweet, and every girl in Vancouver with even just a passing interest in hockey wanted to hook up with him.  It was also compounded by the fact that in the 90s the Gillespie’s put in a bid to own the Canucks.  Grace just tuned it all out.  Brock Boeser Dating a Billionaire’s Daughter!  Those who loved alliteration must have loved the headlines.  In any case, there were more important things to worry about, and more important things to dedicate her time to.  

Grace was at work when she got a call from Brock.  That meant the team flight had landed and he was probably still at the airport or had just gotten into his apartment.  She liked how her heart skipped a beat whenever he called.  “D’you want to meet some of my friends?”

That question took her for a loop.  “Who?”

“My friend Elias, but we call him Petey.”

“You mean Elias Pettersson?” she clarified.  

“Yeah,” he giggled slightly.  “He’s been fancying himself a chef lately.  He lives with his best friend Svea.  He wants us over for dinner.”

“Is he making Swedish food?”

“Don’t know.  I’ll confirm with him.  But is that a yes?”

“Well, if he’s cooking…”

***

“You told her what?”

“Petey—”

“Boes, I can’t fucking cook!” Elias exclaimed once it dawned on him what Brock had just done.  “Why would you invite her here?!”

“I wasn’t thinking—”

“Clearly not!”

“What’s all the commotion?” Svea asked as she emerged from “her side” of the apartment, hearing the screaming between the two men.  It wasn’t exactly new, to hear Brock and Elias screaming at each other, but it was usually over video games.  This sounded like something different.  

“Brock just invited his new girlfriend over to our place for dinner,” Elias huffed.

Svea furrowed her brows.  “What’s wrong with that?  We’ve been wanting to meet her for a long time, Elias.”

“Brock said I’d be cooking,” Elias deadpanned.

Svea turned to Brock with an emotionless look on her face.  “Are you dumb?!” she exclaimed.

“Sveeeeeeaaaaaaaa,” Brock pleaded, his hands clasped together, about to get on his hands and knees in front of her.  

“You need to fix this Svea.  I can’t – I can’t – I can barely even boil an egg!  What made you think I’d be able to cook a dinner to impress a girl I’m not even trying to impress?!” Elias demanded.

“Shut it, the both of you,” Svea said sternly, raising her hands slightly.  “When is she coming here?”

“Saturday night, after our game against Toronto.”

She took a deep breath.  “I’m going to make sausage stroganoff.  You better bring me a good bottle of wine,” she glared at Brock, “and you better go to the Swedish bakery to get the good Swedish sausage,” she directed towards Elias.

Brock fell down to his knees.  “Thank you Svea.  Thank you thank you thank you.”

“Yeah yeah,” she waved them off.  “Now if you’re going to play video games, keep your voices down.  I’m studying.”

When he heard her shut the door to the den, Brock looked at Elias.  “When are you gonna marry her?”

Elias huffed.  “She’s my best friend, Brock.”

***

“So they’re best friends from Sweden,” Grace wanted to make sure she got everything right before she met Elias Pettersson and Svea Nilsson for the first time.  “But you’re saying they’re in love with one another and don’t know it?”

“Exactly,” Brock nodded his head.  “You’ll see it within, like, a minute of meeting them.  They’re just…I don’t know, dumb.”

Grace giggled slightly as Brock pressed the number for Elias’s floor in the elevator.  The doors shut and soon they were speeding up.  “Does anyone else on your team know about us?”

“Some of the guys I’m closer with do,” Brock said.  “Troy, Thatcher, Marky…they all know about you.  Do your friends know about me?”

Grace snorted.  “I told them about you after that first night at Starbucks.”

Brock laughed, leaning down to give her a quick kiss.  “That eager, eh?”

“When you know, you know,” Grace said.  “You know, don’t you?”

Brock nodded.  “I know.”

That was the beauty of what they had going.  They just fell in to everything.  There was Starbucks, then there was exchanging of their numbers, then there were texts back and forth, and phone conversations, and the rush of everything else.  It was quick but it was organic.  Nothing was rushed.  They were going at the pace they wanted to go.  There wasn’t even a heart-to-heart sit down or discussion about “where they stand relationship-wise” or “Am I into this more than you?”.  It was just…understood.  They knew.  They were exclusive.  Neither was seeing anybody else.  Neither wanted to see anybody else.  It was what Grace knew a healthy relationship should blossom into.  It was what Brock knew he wanted from another person.  

Elias opened the door to the apartment, greeting Grace sweetly before walking them in to the kitchen and dining room, where the table had already been set – no doubt done by Svea, too.  Grace noticed that Svea, the roommate, was the one cooking instead of Elias, and she was absolutely mortified.  She made sure to make her way into the kitchen once Brock punched Elias in the gut about something.  

“Hi I’m Svea,” Svea introduced herself sweetly as she was whisking a sauce in a deep saucepan.  She had on an apron and everything.  “It’s really nice to meet you.  I’m sorry that I look like a mess right now.”

“I’m so sorry – Brock said Elias was cooking tonight because he fancied himself a chef – I didn’t want to put any pressure on you—”

“Oh no no no!  Don’t worry!” Svea waved her off.  “God, are you kidding?  I wouldn’t want Elias to make you anything.  He might give you food poisoning.”

Grace giggled.  “So what’s on the menu tonight, anyway?”

“Sausage stronganoff,” Svea replied.  “It’s a Swedish dish.  Elias’s favourite, actually.  I thought I should make you Swedish food.  You’re not vegetarian, are you?”

“No,” Grace said, smiling from ear to ear.  “Sounds delicious.”

***

“They’re definitely in love,” Grace said once she and Brock walked out of the front doors of Elias’s condo building.  Brock turned towards her dramatically, his eyebrows raised, about to throw his arms up in the air.  “It’s so obvious.  So obvious.”

“I told you!” he exclaimed.  

“Why aren’t they dating yet?” she asked.

“Beats the shit out of me,” Brock said, shaking his head.  “But they’re meant to be together.  It’ll happen eventually.  I just don’t want to wait until I’m, like, forty to see it.”

Grace smiled, and there was a moment of silence between the two as they walked along the street.  “Can I ask you a question?  About things happening eventually?”

“Sure…”

“D’you want to meet my dad?”

The words hung in the air as Brock considered the magnitude of what Grace was asking him.  “You want me to meet your dad?”

Grace nodded.  “I think he’ll really like you,” she began.  “And my dad always, always wants to meet my boyfriends.”

“So you’ve had loads of other boyfriends?” he quipped.

Grace went to punch him in the gut, much like Elias did just hours earlier, but Brock dodged her easily and ended up grabbing her hand instead.  “Of course I’ll meet your dad,” he said, softer this time, as he stepped into her personal space and wrapped his other arm around her body.  “I’d love to.”

“Listen, I know I don’t have to warn you about what you’re gonna see when you get into the house, but—”

“Shhhh…” Brock cooed, bringing a finger up to her lips before leaning down to kiss her.  “When you want me there?”

“How does Sunday Night Football sound?”

***

Brock had never seen such a beautiful modern mansion so big in his life.  He’d trekked up to North Vancouver, to the address Grace gave him, and came face to face with a mansion overlooking the water.  It was stunning.  Fit for a billionaire, Brock thought.  He wondered if Grace grew up in this house or if it was new.  It looked new.  And judging by its style –a bungalow – it was fit for someone who needed access to everything they needed on the same floor.  Someone living with Parkinson’s, of course.  

He rang the doorbell.  After about a minute, the door opened and an unfamiliar face greeted him.  “You must be Brock?” the woman asked, the door still only half-open.

“Yes ma’am.”

She opened the door fully.  “I’m Angeline.  I’m one of Mr. Gillespie’s caregivers,” she informed him, stepping aside so he could step into the massive foyer.  Brock could hear the TV on in the distance and the clinking of some dishes in a faraway kitchen.  “You’ll also meet Dana and Michelle, Mr. Gillespie’s others.  He’s been expecting you.  He’s been very excited to meet you.”

Brock slipped off his shoes, making sure not to drop the bottle of wine he brought (for reasons unknown; it wasn’t like Hamish could drink – it was just that him mom taught him never to show up to someone’s house empty-handed).  “Oh, really?” he asked.

Angeline nodded her head.  “He hasn’t been quiet about it since Grace said it to him.  Plus, he’s a big Canucks fan.  Let me bring you to him.”

Brock followed Angeline through the house until they got to the family room.  It was massive, like everything else in the house, with lots of space.  When he walked in, he saw Grace and Hamish.  Their backs were to him, so he was able to observe them before they saw him.  Grace was sitting right beside him in his chair, holding his hand as they paid attention to the football game just about to start on the screen.  Grace was making some comment about the teams.  Brock could see Hamish turn his head slowly to look at his daughter and nod.  Everything about the set-up – Grace, Hamish, their positions, what was on TV, everything – reminded him of he and his dad.  Even the handholding.  Brock didn’t think he even held his dad’s hand as much when he was a kid out in public than he had the last few months – few years, really.  Duke was really into the handholding.  Brock could never, would never deny him.

Brock was soon snapped out of his trance by the sound of footsteps.  One of the other caregivers walked right past him holding a plate of puréed food, bringing it to Grace.  It was only then that Brock noticed the TV dinner table beside her.  “She likes to feed him whenever she’s here,” Angeline said, noticing Brock’s staring.  “If you need any help you can always call.  We will be somewhere in the house,” she said before walking away.

Brock took a deep breath and walked towards Grace and Hamish.  Upon hearing his footsteps, Grace looked his way.  The smile on her face widened ten times over when she saw it was him.  “Hi Brock,” she said softly, getting up from her seat quickly to greet him.  She kissed him quickly behind her father’s back (quite literally) before moving and settling back into her chair.  “Dad, Brock is here to meet you.”

Brock stepped into Hamish’s line of vision.  So that he wouldn’t have to strain his neck to look up, Brock bent down on his knees.  “Hi Hamish,” he held out his hand for a handshake.  Slowly, Hamish’s hand came up to shake it.  “It’s very nice to meet you.  Grace has told me so much about you.”

“It’s…nice to…meet you…too,” he said, his words coming out slowly but surely.  “You…like football?”

Brock smiled.  “I love football.”

“Minnesota?”

“Minnesota.”

A smile crept onto Hamish’s face.  “Good.”

***

Hamish wanted ice cream, so Grace got up and went to the kitchen, leaving him with Brock as they watched the football game together.  Minnesota was winning, which made her dad pretty happy.  And despite everything, she could tell he liked Brock.  She knew he would – everybody liked Brock, he was the sweetest – but it made her happy knowing that he liked him.  There were some ex-boyfriends of hers that he didn’t like.  Some ex-boyfriends he straight-up disapproved of.  Hamish had strong opinions and vocalized them always, and the Parkinson’s didn’t stop that.  He didn’t create a three-billion-dollar company by being quiet.

When she finished putting the ice cream in the bowl, she began to head back to the family room.  Dana stopped her momentarily to tell her that her dad’s bed was ready, whenever he was tired and needed to change into his pajamas.  Grace thanked her, and before she could even step foot into the family room, she heard Brock’s voice.  “Back straight, Mr. Gillespie.  And let me get the straw.”

She stopped in her tracks so neither could see her.  She watched from the side as Brock took the glass of water her dad had been drinking with dinner and brought it up to his lips, steadying the straw so it faced him.  “Take your time, Mr. Gillespie.  It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Mr. Gillespie.  I’m used to this.  I’m not sure if Grace told you but my dad has Parkinson’s as well,” Brock said.

Hamish seemingly forgot about the water and straw.  “He does?”

“Yes sir.  And I help take care of him too, in the off-season.  Just like Grace helps take care of you.”

Hamish brought a hand up slowly and placed it on Brock’s arm that was resting on the arm rest.  “Does your father…ever speak…of his body…betraying him?”

Grace watched as Brock took a deep breath in.  “All the time,” he nodded.  “Ever since he got diagnosed.”

Hamish nodded slowly.  “You and Grace…” he began, “taking care…of your parents.  You’ll…you’ll look after one another.”

Brock nodded again, more assertively this time.  “We will,” he said, bringing the water and straw closer to Hamish.  He pursed his lips to start drinking, and Brock brought his other hand up to steady Hamish’s head and make sure it was as upright as possible.  Hamish’s hand didn’t leave Brock’s forearm.