#// enjoy some Cory

[scionshtola]

i guess where i contrast with a lot of dt enjoyers is im never going to want the game to give me less personal conflict for my wol

[nacrenecitygardening]

In a small apartment in Nimbasa City, with someone else.

Compared to how quiet their house usually was, it seemed like every corner of this place was alive.

A kettle was bubbling away in the small kitchen, somewhere a tune probably way older than they were cranked out of an old stereo, the weird pidove-shaped windchime twinkled in the cold breeze from the open window- It felt. Quaint. Like what a grandparent's house must be like.

Even Miss Sasha's mother was humming along cheerily to the song while moving the boxes that probably hadn't seen the light of day in 50 years. (Okay, maybe not that long, but they looked old.)

(Old as dirt.)

They were sat on the floor of her tiny livingroom, sorting through a mountain of old cardboard boxes filled with the million little knickknacks Clara had apparently collected over the years. (And only Just Now decided to sort through, apparently.)

It was boring, but oddly kinda meditative?

Still, it felt- Well okay, maybe that's not what they'd meant, but- It felt like they were trying to get them out of the way. Like-

'Hey, we're heading to Nimbasa anyway for undisclosed this or that, you should help my mom sort through all her old junk, I can't do it since I'm busy doing something you can't know about.'

And so that's why they were here, sitting on an old rug with dust up to their armpits, going through books older than Relic Castle. Busy and-

Out of the way.

That's how it always was, wasn't it?

Be good, be useful, or stay out of the way.

(Not now, kid, the adults are talking-)

Had the old radio turned to static, or was that just the blood in their ears?

The piercing whistle of the kettle cut through their thoughts and they sprang back to alertness, blinking around as Clara pushed to her feet.

She turned back to them, a spark of cheeriness in her voice as she asked, "Would you like some tea, dear?"

"U-uh, uhm, yeah, sure, thank you." They gave a slight smile. (Nice fumble, Cory, tripped over your own tongue.)

A minute later, they had a warm drink in their hands in one of those charmingly tacky mugs. It was the same kind of tea Miss Sasha loved. (Which made sense.)

Sipping idly from her own, Clara leaned back on one hand and gave them a smile. "I hope this isn't too much of a bother to you, it was very kind of you to help me. I know it's not the most exciting thing."

"It's not a problem!" It wasn't- really that bad. "Uh- sorry Sasha couldn't be here to help too."

Her smile fell a bit, and she looked away from them, shrugging. "She's off in her own world, I can't really blame her too terribly much."

Arc, yeah.

It felt like- Sometimes it felt like she was a world away these days.

Uh- shit. They coughed, putting on a smile. (Don't make her upset, say something else.)

"Uhm, where did you uh, get all this stuff?"

That made her grin, a light in her eyes.

"Oh you know, here and there over the years, from our adventures," she picked up a sort-of tacky figurine in her fingers, "I used to travel quite a bit before Sasha was born, you know, a lot of it came from that."

That was something to imagine, but they could see it.

She carried herself with a confidence, someone with experience who knew what she was doing.

Ignore the ache in your chest, get back to sorting.

So they did.

The crackly stereo switched to some other old jazz song that was probably popular with dead people, and Clara filled the air with rambley tales of the hijinks of her youth or something like that.

They were honestly only half-listening, just trying to focus on their hands. They were going through a box of cassettes or something (Who even still uses cassettes?), and a few old cameras.

At the bottom, beneath the mountain of ancient technology, there was a smaller box (Why?), like some old sewing container.

Pulling off the lid it was- pictures. A bunch of pictures.

They were slotted in neatly, some looking older than others, but not worn, not really. Don't look at them, that's rude, don't- okay, well, they did.

And the first one they pulled out- was Clara and Sasha, who looked about six maybe, sitting on the couch behind them. They looked happy.

"Oh so that's where those were hiding, thank you dear." Oh- she must've noticed.

They handed the photo to her, and she admired it with a wistful smile.

It was okay, then-? (She didn't seem mad.) So they just kinda.. took a look through the rest of them.

There were some of Clara, probably from when she was younger, with a woman they didn't recognize, but most of them were Sasha. Over half the box, dedicated to her daughter.

Maybe that shouldn't be surprising, but, okay- (It's alot more than your parents had of you.)

"She looks like she was happy."

That made her smile, "She was. Oh what a handful of a child she was, never a dull day."

Alot of the photos were in the apartment, they could almost see her running around, happy and loud and messy and just- being a kid. (Not standing in a corner, trying not to take up space.)

They had one in their hands, kid Sasha smiling big and gap-toothed at the camera, a small eevee in her arms, covered in mud.

They didn't look up at Clara, just said, a bit distantly-

"You're a good mother."

It was quiet for a second, and at some point she'd shifted a bit closer to them. Looking up, a soft smile rested on her face.

"I certainly tried my best. I tried to provide for her as best I could."

What was that look in her eye? It looked alot like how Sasha looked at them sometimes.

And for a little while, they slipped back into silence.

But something had- You shouldn't, it's rude- Okay, just, listen. They'd noticed something that seemed.. missing, from all the photos. You shouldn't. But they were curious, so they- did.

"Uh-" Don't stutter, just say it. "Uhm, sorry, uh- just.. Where's Sasha's... dad?"

You shouldn't have said that.

She froze for a second, eyes wide, but cleared her throat and gave a bit of a smile.

It took her a moment, probably picking her words with how slowly she spoke. "Well, I.. I loved him, at some point, I believe."

You should stop. "But- why's he not, uh, here?"

She's uncomfortable. "He... was not the most.. kind man, not really."

She tipped her head, a bitter smile on her lips. "I suppose he simply decided .. I wasn't enough for him."

Stop. No, wait- "But, hold on- he, he loved you though, didn't he? And and- you loved him. You can't leave, that's- that's wrong."

It was supposed to be wrong.

What was that look? Almost- solemn? Was that the word? And bitterness.

Maybe there was anger in there too. "You can love someone and still hurt them. And still be hurt."

"You can love someone, and still hate them."

Bitterness coated her tongue.

Don't think about that, that's wrong, you know that's wrong-

Don't.

(Stay quiet- Wait for your turn- How could you do this when we do so much for you- Be a good child- Not now the adults are talking- We thought better of you-)

Was she talking? It didn't matter.

(You used to be so good what happened- Good kids don't make a mess- You never talk you're so wellbehaved- Stay out of the way- How could you fail- We expected more of you- You're just exaggerating I don't care what the doctors said-)

They couldn't see anymore. Maybe they could, but it didn't matter.

(You can't quit do you wanna be a failure- What happened to you- How do you expect to survive like this- You used to be a good kid- Don't talk back don't say a word- You won't survive a day in the real world- I raised you better than this- We don't tolerate that here- Pack a bag and leave-)

They couldn't hear they couldn't breathe they couldn't feel they couldn't-

You were supposed to be the good one.

//( Plain text: You were supposed to be the good one.)

"CORY!"

Something was touching them they were being grabbed don't hurt them don't hurt them- "DON'T HURT ME!"

"Cory! Please! Dear, please, I promise, I would never do such a thing, please, calm down."

It was-

"Deep breaths, please, follow with me, in," she took a breath, "and out."

A hand was placed on their chest. Okay.

In, out.

"That's it, lovely, dear."

They followed it, in, and out. In, and out.

At some point they'd grabbed onto her arm for support, an anchor in an incoherent sea.

"Very good, you're doing spectacular."

Their racing heart slowly ebbed back to normal. When did they close their eyes?

They opened them again, taking a last shuddering breath.

They were still in Clara's livingroom, surrounded by all the boxes and old junk. They'd backed against the couch, and right next to them.. was Clara, a relieved smile on her face, holding their hand, keeping them steady with her other on their shoulder.

"There we are. That's quite better."

They slumped back against the sofa, letting out a sigh. Dragons above, was that really- they thought they'd gotten better at that.

For a while, they just sat there, listening as that old radio switched to something else and crackled through the air.

After a moment, she spoke up. "Your family wasn't too pleasant, were they?"

They just numbly shook their head. What else was there to say?

Their parents had said they loved them. What it was supposed to mean.

They were supposed to love them, after everything they did.

"You loved them, didn't you?"

At some point. Maybe. "I did, still do, maybe."

Even after everything.

"I.. I loved them." Honestly, really, truly- "I. I think I hate them."

"I hate them."

It.. Part of them wanted to say it was wrong that it felt so good to actually say it. But it did.

That's what it was. It was hate.

After a moment, she smiled. "I'm glad you're alright now, dear, Auntie Clara's here for you, I promise."

They stalled for a second, that still felt.. wrong. "You- really shouldn't do that. Please just- I shouldn't be here. It's- It's not right."

You don't belong here.

Look, you made her sad.

She frowned, "Now why would you say such a thing?"

Well.. "I just- It's not right, this is your family and- I shouldn't be intruding on it. You're all just.. arcdamnit you're all to nice to say anything."

Shaking her head, she had an almost disbelieving look in her eye as she said, "Cory, dear, no, no no no. You're apart of this family now, if you'll have us. I promise you, you were never intruding."

She looked them in the eye, a soft smile on her wrinkled face, "Please, I swear it, you will always have a place here."

Fuck their eyes stung- When did they start crying?

They fell forward into her shoulder, and she hugged them.

"I promise, I promise."

For once in their life, they felt like maybe, just maybe, it was true.

[bwmtllu]

one of my lectures rn is extra boring so ive been dedicating that time to doodling cori if she was messed up and scary (my hope for this season)

[amyriadfthings]

can you say dreamy 🫠 😍  that smile. the soft classic elegance. who is she

I can´t deal with his beauty?! With the face? Curl?!

Smiling? Waist? What?

What is that sweater even doing

[a9saga]

the gazette - daku // no idea what this song's about but it sounds really sexy

[eddiesxangel]

Could you do a smutty Eddie Munson fic where he’s your older brother’s bsf?

maybe reader has had a crush on Eddie for a while and when she finally decides to move on and date someone Eddie gets jealous?

What Eddie Doesn’t Know | Eddie x f!reader

AN: I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it took a while to complete. Thank you for the request; I haven’t been inspired by anything non-Christmas-themed in a while. I was literally barking at the trope.

wc: 7.1k oops

Cw: f!reader, reader is 19 and in collage and Eddie is 22 and a full time mechanic, reader goes by a nickname, jealous Eddie, jealous reader, angst, cheating (on the reader but not by Eddie), smut (pet names, oral, dirty talk, p in v), the fluffy ending!

Pathetic. That was how you felt at this moment in time. Here you were at your college homecoming party, and all you could do was be a wallflower, watching in self-pity as the love of your life. ( who doesn’t know is the love of your life) is pressed up on some girl in the back of the room.

"What are you doin' here, Tink?" you pop out of your daze to see your older brother, Adam, addressing you.

Did your parents name you Tink? No. Were you so obsessed with Peter Pan as a child you demanded to go by Tinkerbell? Yes. The nickname kinds just stuck.

"I go here?" You sass him back.

"This party is for upperclassmen only. How did you get in?" Adam was only three years older.

"Eddie's here, and he doesn't even attend school..." You gave him a pointed look.

"Yeah, cuz he is my best friend... like I said, how did you get in?"

"It's a house party, not Studio 54... I walked in."

"I'm going to kill Cory," He mumbled under his breath. Cory was supposed to be manning the door.

"Yeah, you should definitely get better security, all I had to do was let him feel up my tits, and we walked right on in..."

The Neanderthal didn't actually touch you, but the look on Adam's face when you let Adam believe he did? Priceless. You only lied so Adam would leave you alone.

What actually happened was you, Nancy, and Robin scaled the fence and got in through the back door.

"Cory!" Before you knew it, Adam was out of your hair, and you were back to being a wallflower….

"Tink there you are! You wanna continue to mope in the corner, or do you wanna get out of here?" your two best friends/roomies, Robin and her girlfriend Nancy, approach you.

"I guess let's just go." you sigh.

You can no longer bear the sight of Eddie, the boy you've been crushing on since the sixth grade, and your older brother’s best friend, leading the random girl up the stairs hand in hand.

Your stomach lurched at the thought of her hands running all over his body, how he would be on her, kissing her... inside of her. He didn't even know you were here... You should have gone up to him, maybe said hello. Perhaps he would have seen the ridiculous amount of effort you put into your ensemble just to catch his eye. But your efforts were lacking because, to him, you're always going to be Adam's annoying little sister.

You knew you had to get over this, but how could you? He has been in your life for fifteen years and always will be. Adam and Eddie have been friends for as long as you can remember. Your brother stuck by him throughout Eddie's family struggles. Your parents even took him in for a few weeks before CPS found his uncle took over full custody. He was basically your big brother, too, until your pesky teenage hormones started to kick in, and boom! You've been head over heels ever since.

''Good, let's get some greasy burgers and fries to end the night, ok?" Robin smiled.

In the 24-hour diner on campus, you were sitting at your regular booth with the girls across from you, eating your feelings, trying not to think about what Eddie was doing with that girl.

"So that party was a bust, huh?" Nancy spoke first.

"Yeah, totally... probably because Adam's house hosted." You giggled.

"Not to mention Eddie still didn't see you -OUCH." Robin looked over at Nancy, who was giving her a look of distaste. "Sorry, I meant he is an idiot, and you need to get over him! There are plenty of eligible guys on campus who you could date!"

"Even though my girlfriend is being is harsh, she is right, Tink. It's been so long, and you'll kill yourself over this if you keep this up."

"Ugh, I know! Do you think I'm a masochist or something? I hate to break it to you, but I do not enjoy this. I hate it. I hate that he is the one I think about every day when I wake up. I hate it when I go to sleep; he is the last person on my mind. He takes over my thoughts, and I don't know how to stop it!" You shove a fry into your mouth so you can take a breather.

"What if we found you a new guy? Someone to take your mind off Eddie?" Nancy perked up at her idea.

You heard the diner doorbells chime from behind you.

"I don't know..." Putting all your time and energy into someone new seemed like a lot of emotional work you wanted to avoid going through.

"Yes! Oh my god, Tink, you have to. It's the only way you'll get over him!"

"Get over who?" The silky, sweet voice of a male came from behind you.

You and the girls froze as Eddie, your brother, and a few other guys approached the table.

"No one." You mumbled, trying to fight off the blood rushing across your chest and cheeks.

"You can tell us, Tink! Who are we fighting?" Eddie laughed.

"Tink? What kind of stupid name is that?" one of Adam's jerk friends spoke.

"Excuse me?" you turn to see the guy you've never met.

You heard Adam burst out laughing with the rest of them, but not Eddie.

"Hey man, not cool!" Eddie stood up for you.

And there went the butterflies in your stomach. Eddie was always your protector. Even as kids, when Adam picked on you, he always stood up for you. Even if you weren't around, Eddie always put Adam in his place when it came to you.

You saw, out of the corner of your eye, Eddie shifted his weight down so he could sit beside you. Then, you felt a protective arm wrap around your shoulder.

Fuck. This shit right here is why you can never get over Eddie Munson.

You dared to look up; there he was in all his glory. The way the fluorescent light from above had cast down on him made him look like an angel. He smiled at you, but not before you noticed the dishevelled sex hair he tried to fix and the small amount of pink lipstick that stained the skin on his neck that he didn't quite get off. And the smell… sickly sweet perfume that was definitely not his signature musk.

You quickly turn your head back to your plate because you think you're about to puke up everything you just ingested…

"You, if you don't leave us alone." Robin piped up. She saw the look of pure disappointment in your eyes. You didn't need Eddie to rub in the fact that he hooked up with someone, especially since now he is smelling like a cheap hooker.

Robin and Nancy thought it was incredibly rude of your brother to flaunt Eddie in front of you like this. Of course, he knew your mega super infinity crush on his best friend. Yet here he is with his drunk-ass buddies, antagonizing you about the guy you needed to get over.

"Woah, Birdie, take it easy; we are just saying hello," Adam chimed in.

“You said hello at the party. Now leave!” You gritted through your teeth.

“You were at the party?” Eddie asked. His voice hitched high. High enough, it was embarrassingly so. Thankfully, his friends were too drunk and hungry to realize. A deep blush crossed his face when he saw you noticed the tone in his voice change. You just have a slight nod and continue to play with the food on your plate.

That’s why you were so dressed up. Eddie thought you looked so pretty, too pretty to be sad about some looser in a diner at one in the morning.

"Do we have a problem here?" A voice none of you recognized came from the booth beside you.

You all look over and see a cute guy with blonde hair and blue eyes wearing your school's rugby jersey. He was so not your type, but you can still admire beauty for what it is. He was a jock; that was clear as he stood up. He was big, more significant than your brother and Eddie, that's for sure.

"Nah, man, it's cool. This is my little sister and her friends." Adam slurs. Clearly, he had more shots since he left you to find Cory.

"I don't care who you are. You're clearly bothering them."

"It's okay, they were just leaving," Nancy said confidently.

"Whatever, let's go, guys," Adam commanded the pac, but Eddie lingered. He didn't like this blondie guy. He didn't like the way he was looking at you.

"Ed, come on!'

Eddie got up and slowly made his way to his friends.

"I'm Jesse," Eddie heard the musclehead speak, and he cringed internally. Something wasn't right. The feelings of anger and protectiveness were filling his mind.

Eddie looked back again and saw you smelling at the stranger as he reached out to shake your hand before sitting beside you.

What kind of freak is alone in a diner at 1:15 am? Eddie thought.

But it didn't seem to phase you or the girls; you were all blinded by his shiny hair and pearly white smile.

Eddie walked out and felt like he wanted to punch something. He needed to get away. He needed to know what the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he feeling this way? Why were you the one causing him distress? You were just Tink? Or so Eddie thought.

Jesse turned out to be really cool. You exchanged numbers, and he asked you to go to the movies next Friday. You hadn’t been on a date in forever; you had been so hung up on Eddie that any other guy seemed uninteresting. But this time, you were determined that Jesse would be the one to break the cycle. He was much different than you’re generally into, but you have some of the same interests, like movies and music, so you thought you’d go for it.

Jesse picked you up, bought the tickets, and insisted on buying the snacks and drinks. He held your hand and then slowly made his way to wrap his arm around your shoulder. It gave you butterflies you hadn’t felt from anyone else. Before you knew it, you willingly leaned in to make out with him in the back of the theatre.

You were so focused on Jesse that you didn’t notice Eddie was also on a date in the same theatre. But Eddie noticed you. He was seething the whole time. He didn’t pay any attention to his date or the movie. He hogged the popcorn and munched away as he watched you giggle and flirt with the blockhead jock. Eddie didn’t care that he had pissed off his date. He hardly said two words to her when they parted ways, not even offering to drive her home.

He didn’t want to go out with her but had hooked up with her at the party and felt terrible about it then. Now, he can’t even remember her name or why he went upstairs with her in the first place.

You were there, at the party, but he didn’t see you. Now he sees you everywhere, and it’s pissing him off. Why were you on his mind all of the time? For the past week, why have his dreams been consumed by you and you alone? Why did he want to hold you, be with you, talk to you, dare he say… kiss you? You were Adam’s little sister. Well, not so little anymore. You were a late bloomer, but boy, did you bloom.

Eddie hated how the blonde meathead’s hand rested too low on your back. His hands grazed your skirt a little too closely. Eddie wanted to jump the guy, but he couldn’t. He was twice his size. He would be pulverized, and that would be mortifying in front of you. You wouldn’t want him like that anyway, even if he did win in a fight over you!

What the fuck was Eddie thinking? He wasn't… that's the problem. He's now thinking about getting into a physical altercation over you. He isn't able to sleep now without thinking about you. He needed to get his head on straight and quit fucking around. He hoped that if he just focused on the cars at work, this little thing would go away on its own. Maybe he can't remember that he had slipped and hit his head? Yeah, that's it. He hit his head, and now his brain is just confused. He didn't like you like that! This will all go away by tomorrow.

Wrong.

Eddie was plagued with thoughts of you. He caught himself in numerous daydreams about you while doing mindless tuneups and tire changes at the shop. It was getting out of hand; it’s been another week, and he still can’t get you off his mind… Eddie needed to be proactive. The guys were starting to give him shit about it too. They knew he was focused on a girl. They could sense it.

There was another party tonight that Adam mentioned. He will go home and get cleaned up. Then he will go to the party, he will find a nice pretty girl who will let him bury himself inside her, to forget about his thoughts of splitting your open with his cock, and this will all be over.

You walked into the party hand in hand with Jesse. He was starting to make waves in your life, being only two weeks, but still. He would walk you to your classes and help you study in the library. He would walk you home and kiss you goodbye like the perfect gentleman. He hadn't tried making any advances as of yet. The two of you had only made it to first base. Maybe tonight you would get lucky? You felt ready.

“You want something to drink?” Jesse guided you to the kitchen.

The house was hot and sticky; you were worried about your hair getting frizzy. You worked so hard on it to look good for Jesse. He even complimented it when he picked you up. Forever the gentleman.

“Whatever they have is good.” You smiled up at him.

As the two of you walked into the packed kitchen, you tried to squeeze your way around but got stuck in the crowd. It was much easier for Jesse to get by just with his size alone.

“Excuse me,” you repeated three times, but no one was budging.

“You should be a little bit more assertive,” the voice behind you said. It sent a shiver down your spine.

As you turned, you saw Eddie smirking down at you. He was drunk. You could see that and smell it.

“Hi, Eddie.” You smiled meekly before you felt the weight of Jesse’s arm wrap around you, passing you your drink.

“There you are,” Jesse smiled. "Who's this?"

"That's just Eddie...Eddie, Jesse. Jesse, Eddie." You introduced awkwardly.

Just Eddie. The words stung.

"How do the two of you know each other?" Jesse gestures between the two of you.

"Brothers best friend." You smile.

"That's all I am to you? You wound me, Tink."

The fuck was that supposed to mean?

"Eddie, man! I got us two hotties over by the pool. Let's go!" In comes your obnoxious brother with perfect timing, as always.

"I guess I'll see you around." Eddie sighed.

"Nice meeting you, man." Jesse stuck out his hand.

"Whatever." Eddie brushed him off and left with Adam.

"I'm sorry about him. That was very rude. I don't?- He's usually not like that?"

"It's okay; I can tell a jealous guy when I see one." Jesse shrugged.

You almost spat out your drink. "Jealous?!"

"Oh, it's clear as day, honey."

"No... there is no way. He's never and will never like me... like that." It broke your heart to say that out loud. Your chest felt so heavy as the words came out of your mouth.

As the rest of the night went on, you and Eddie tried avoiding one another like the plague. Those words about him being jealous were swimming around in your head for most of the night, and Eddie was trying to avoid his feelings by being with another girl, but not one stood out to him.

Adam tried getting lucky but struck out when Eddie refused to go with the friend.

"What the fuck is your problem, man? She was like a solid eight out of ten."

"I wasn't into it..." Eddie's eyes found you, and he couldn't break his gaze. You were curled up in the blockhead's lap, sitting by the fire pit, all cozy and giggly. What he would give to have you in his arms like that.

"Oh fuck, not you now." Adam groaned in frustration, seeing where Eddie's googly eyes were directed.

"Huh?" Eddie said absentmindedly, not really paying attention.

"You can't be serious?! That's my little sister, dude; come on!" Adam was always one for the dramatics; that's why he and Edie got on so well.

"Woah, man, I never said anything about your sister."

"Well, it sure is clear by the way you're making heart eyes at her."

"Yeah, right," Eddie scoffed.

"Trust me, dude, it's that same way she looks at you." Adman shook his head. He thought he would be clear of this. That this would never happen, and yet here it is, happening.

"Wait, what? What do you mean?-"

"She's been in love with you since she was twelve... come one like you didn't know?"

"No way, you smoked too much tonight, or something? Maybe my stuff is off?"

"She likes you, dude. Never fucking shuts up about you."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't think it was relevant... I was never going to allow her to be with you! You serious? It's Tink, she's so...ew. You're so above that."

"She's not ew," Eddie snapped. He hated how hard Adam had always been on you.

"Whatever, man, too late now. About time she has moved on."

Eddie stood up and walked out of the party without a word. He heard Adam call out, but he ignored him completely. He needed to process what Adam told him. He needed to sober up so he could think clearly. He needed to either make you his or find a way to get over you... and fast.

That night of the party, you didn't end up getting lucky. You tried making advances, but you inevitably were shot down. He said he didn't want your first time to be when you both had been drinking and in some random bathroom. So you accepted it, even though your horny gremlin was starting to come back to life. But what did happen was he asked you to make it official with him, and you said yes!

Tonight, you had to leave the apartment for your roommate's sake. It was their anniversary, and you told them you could have the place to themselves for a romantic evening. When you told Jesse, your new boyfriend, you needed a place to crash, he offered you his bed. You would go to your classes and then return to his for your first sleeepover as a couple. You were so excited!

Jesse ended class at one in the afternoon that day, and you ended at five, so it worked out perfectly. Luckily enough for you, your professor for your last lecture was ill, so they cancelled class that day. You thought it would be fun to surprise him by showing up early.

When you got to his house, his roommate let you in and said he was in his room with his friend Connor. So when you knocked on the door and walked in a few seconds later, you did not expect to see the two men in bed, naked...

You screamed and covered your eyes, absolutely mortified that you had walked in on them. You were so unbelievably hurt that you had been deceived. Why would he ask you to be exclusive if he was sleeping around?! And on the night when you thought you would get to have sex with your new boyfriend.

You did not give Jesse any time to explain himself as he tried to get out of the tangled sheets and arms of the other man. You heard your name being called out, but you ran out of there like a bat out of hell.

Tears stung your cheeks as the cold autumn air began to settle in. The rumble of the dark clouds was also looking quite ominous.

Just your luck. Of course, you would find your boyfriend in the arms of another man, and of course, the universe would make you walk him in the rain. How poetic.

A crack of thunder rumbled in the distance, and that's when the rain came down in buckets. At least it could cover up your tears. You continued walking, but you couldn't think of a place to go? You could not ruin your roommate's night. There is no way Adam would let you stay in his frat house, not that you would want to anyway, and your friends from the class went home for the weekend. Shit... maybe you could spend the majority of the night in the diner and then just walk home really late once they were defiantly sleeping. But your clothes were soaked and---

“Tink, what’s wrong?” you were snapped out of your thoughts by none other than the man who was the cause of this whole mess.

Eddie rolled down the work van window. He was covered in motor oil and dirty from working all day. His muscles ached, and he badly needed a hot shower, but now all he could focus on was you and why you were upset.

“Leave me alone, Eddie.” He hadn’t ever heard you speak to him like this?

“Tink, come on, it’s a literal thunder storm. Let me take you home.”

“Can’t, girls are having date night… told them to have the place to themselves.” You continued to walk as the chill from the rain was beginning to seep through to your bones. Your teeth betray you as the chatter starts.

“Where were you supposed to be right now?”

“None of your business!”

“Tink, don’t make me pull over!”

“Screw you, Eddie!”

“That’s it.” Eddie parked the car and got out. “You’re coming with me.” Eddie picked you up over his shoulder, and you let out a screech.

“Eddie! Put me down, you caveman!” You screamed. If anyone saw you, it looked like you were being kidnapped and taken into a murder van.

“No, can do Tink. I’m taking you home to warm you up. Then you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on.” He commanded. And if you weren’t so mad, you’d say you were a little turned on by his voice.

You hear the car door open before he plops you into the passenger seat.

“Get in” he points to your legs hanging out of the car.

“Make me.” you shiver.

“You’re being such a child! Let me help you.”

“Fine!” You swing your legs into the van, and Eddie slams the door closed, making you wince.

The car ride was quiet besides the radio and your chattering teeth. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, but it was of no help. Your t-shirt and jeans clung to you like a second skin, and the car heater was only blowing cool air. You swore you thought your nipples could cut glass.

Eddie said nothing as he tugged you over on the bench seat and wrapped a warm arm around you. You broke out into another chill, but this time, you weren't sure if it was from the rain or from Eddie.

Even though Eddie was self-conscious of smelling like motor oil and body odour, he was more worried about you catching hypothermia.

Once you were inside Eddie's warm apartment, he noticed how your body was on display. You would be the clear winner if you were in a wet t-shirt contest, that's for sure. Eddi's eyes were wide with desire, but he returned to reality when you asked if you could use his shower to warm up.

Eddie nodded absentmindedly as he thought about you being naked in his shower.

"Uh, you mind if I borrow a towel and some dry clothes? I have mine, but they got soaked through my overnight bag..."

"Yeah! Uh- I mean, sure, yeah, whatever..."

You blushed slightly at Eddie, trying to play it cool. He ran to his bedroom and returned with a handful of different fabrics. You took them and then headed into the bathroom.

The hot water defrosted your bones, and when you stepped into Eddie's clothes, his sent hit you like a tidal wave. You brought the old black corroded coffin band tee that he had from high school up to your nose and inhaled deeply. You felt immediate comfort being here, with Eddie, wearing his clothes.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in the towel, Eddie couldn't help but smile at the sight of you.

"Not a word," you warn.

Eddie mock zipped his lips, then gestured to the couch for you to sit beside him.

"Sorry about being a pain earlier; you caught me at a really, really bad time."

"It's okay, Tink, you're here with me now; that's all that matters." Eddie let the towel around your head fall back so he could see your natural hair. "You wanna tell me what happened? I've never seen you so upset."

"You shook your head no, "It's too embarrassing."

"Come on, it's me we are talking about here."

You paused for a deep breath and decided to just lay it all out on the table... how much worse could it get, right?

“You remember Jesse, right?” Eddie could feel his fist tightening, but he said nothing while nodding his head with a tight lip. What the fuck did he do to you? “Well, he asked me to be his girlfriends no less than a week ago, and I was supposed to spend the night at his place… but I went over early and found him in bed with… someone.” Eddie went to say something but realized you weren’t finished and let you continue.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?! I finally get a boyfriend, and the moment I want to actually sleep with someone who isn’t you, they are in the arms of someone else! Am I really that undesirable?! I was practically throwing myself at him, and it turns out he was fucking his “friend” the whole time.”

You had missed your slip-up, but Eddie hadn't. Eddie didn’t hear anything after “I want to sleep with someone who isn’t you,”

So Adam was right…

“Eddie? Eddddiiieee?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face to try and get back his attention.

Great, so now you’re undesirable AND boring.

“Sorry what?”

“Forget it… you don’t wanna hear about my pitty party. I’ll call a cab and head back to… oh shit, I can’t even go home!”

“Stay here.”

“Eddie, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes. Stay. Take my bed; I’ll take the couch.”

“Eddie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not, Tink?” He brushed a fallen piece of hair behind your ear, and those pesky butterflies erupted within your core.

“Because…” because I’m in love with you and don’t know if I can hold back my feelings any longer.

“Exactly, you can’t come up with one. Let me take care of you.” Eddie’s voice dropped an octave.

A chill travelled down your spine. His touch is electric. Any time you’re with Eddie, your body feels like it’s been recharged.

As you gaze into Eddie’s eyes, this undeniable magnetic pull connects you. Was he leaning in? Or were you? Maybe it was the both of you? There was little to no space between you. Never in a million years did you think you would be sitting here, alone with Eddie in his apartment.

“I should get cleaned up,” Eddie whispered. He was so close you could taste the spearmint Nicorette gum he had been chewing. It took everything in his power to pull away. He wanted to kiss you so very badly, but he got a whiff of himself, and he needed to wash up. I would be unfair to you.

“Oh, okay,” you breathed in, and Eddie slid back.

“You can make yourself at home, okay? Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be 10 minutes.”

Eddie was freaking out in the shower, and you were freaking out in the kitchen. While Eddie scrubbed his skin so hard he thought he would scrub it off completely, you went to the fridge to find anything to help calm your nerves.

There wasn’t anything in the fridge, but the freezer, on the other hand... Bingo. You poured yourself a shot of vodka and almost threw up, but you held it together with a chaser of orange juice. You took one more for good measure and then made your way back to the couch. As you waited for your liquid courage to kick in, you flicked around on the TV but didn’t really pay much attention. Your thoughts were swimming with questions and possible scenarios that could play out this evening.

You were taken away from your inner thoughts when Eddie exited the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. You tried not to make it obvious, but the alcohol clouded your awareness of your face.

“Sorry, I left my clothes in the bedroom” he saw you eye fucking him and gave a little smirk.

“It’s okay. Totally okay.” you sighed.

The sight of his wet, bare torso makes your heart race, his flesh covered in goosebumps, his nipples perked, and his hair soaked yet still so sexy. Your stomach simultaneously flip-flopped. And as for your pussy… well, she got a little excited at the heavenly sight in front of you.

“Yeah,” You wanna see more, Tink? Eddie thought to himself.

“Yeah.” You sighed before he disappeared into his bedroom.

Minutes later, Eddie returned, and the two of you acted as if nothing happened. Neither of you willing to break the tension first. So you both sat silently, watching some random TV movie while you prayed to come up with something to discuss. You wanted to talk so badly with him.

“This couch is pretty lumpy; it wouldn’t be fair to make you sleep on it.” You felt terrible that he offered his bed. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Nope. No way.” Eddie shook his head.

“Eddie.” You huffed.

“Tink,” he mocked back.

“You need a good sleep! You work a strenuous job…And my back can take it.”

I bet your back could take it, Eddie thought.

“You calling me old, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart, your stomach did a flip-flop again.

“No.” You snicker at his accusation.

“I don’t think I believe you” Eddie’s tone dropped again.

“Well, I’m not letting up”

“Neither am I; you’re sleeping in my bed whether I’m on it or not.

“Oh...”

“Yeah, oh.” Eddie sat back and the both of you finished the movie in silence.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but Eddie shook your shoulder awake.

“Come on Tinkerbell we are going to bed.” You think you hear Eddie whisper.

Were you dreaming? Did Eddie just tell you the two of you were going to bed?

“Mmm?”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch, remember? Don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily.”

“Okay, Eddie, “ you agreed in your sleepy haze.

You feel his arm wrap under yours as he helps you off the couch.

“There you go.” Eddie coos as he places you down gently.

The moment your head hits the pillow, you’re suddenly wide awake. You’re in Eddie’s bed. Eddie is getting in next to you.

“Figured we would compromise.” He slid next to you but over the covers with a throw blanket.

“Thanks for letting me stay… and giving me a shoulder to cry on.” You cringed with embarrassment at the last part. “You seem to always be there for me…” you turn to your side to face Eddie.

“I’ll always be there for you, Tink, whether you like it or not…” Eddie also turns so he is facing you.

“Eddie.” Your breath hitched.

“Yes Tink.”

Fuck are you really going to spill your guts to him here and now?

��I… I wanna-need to tell you something.” You close your eyes, not daring to look at him.

“I think I might have an idea.”

“You-what?” Eyes still closed

You feel the bed shift and feel Eddie's warm breath fan your lips.

“Do you trust me?” Eddie whispered.

You aren’t brave enough to speak. So you tentatively nod your head yes.

“Do you trust me, Tink? I need you to say it.” He asked once more.

You slowly opened your eyes and bravely opened your mouth. “Yes, Ed’s, I trust you.”

A slight smile graces Eddie’s before you watch him lean in with a pucker.

Your heart skipped a beat the moment his lips touched yours.

Holy shit.

Eddie Munson was kissing you. Eddie Munson, your older brother's best friend, who you’ve been in love with for seven years, is now kissing you… in his bed… late at night… with no one else around. It was like fireworks were going off. It was everything you ever wanted and more.

It was all you had ever dreamed of, and now he was blowing your expectations out of the water. You had to have more. You needed this to last forever.

Your hands moved up to cup his face. His cheeks were rough with stubble, contrasting his soft plush lips. Eddie shifted closer to you. You could feel his body through the thick blankets that separated the two of you, but you wanted to be closer to him. You threw the blankets and all caution to the wind when you shifted to wrap your legs around him.

Eddie rolled so he was on top of you. To your surprise, you felt his firm cock pressed to your thigh, which made you moan softly.

“Fucking hell, Tink”

“Eddie, please, I need you.”

“Didn’t take you long to beg,” he chuckled darkly.

“Well, it took you long enough to see me.”

Eddie gazed into your eyes like he was looking at you for the first time. Like really seeing you. He muttered your name, your real name, for the first time, and you couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your face before you strained your neck to take his lips once more.

Eddie’s strong hands grazed your waist and settled on your hips, pinning you down to the mattress. His weight is entirely on you now. Your knees hitched up, and you opened your hips more to give him more room.

“Eddie,” you gasped into his mouth. Eddie ground his hips into yours, and you let out another soft moan.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You, it’s always been you.” You confessed.

Eddie didn’t say anything in reply but instead worked his fingers to the waistband of his sweatpants that you dawned.

“This okay?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you rushed. You’ve waited too long for this moment.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

“Don’t be mean,” You shove the pants off your ankles and go for your shirt.

“Wait… let me.” Eddie sat up so you could as well. His hands brushed the hem and slowly pulled the shirt he let you borrow off of you.

He took in your naked frame in front of him.

Shit, you weren’t wearing your panties this whole time? They must have been soaked as well from the rain. Eddie thought.

Eddie saw you shy away as you sat there naked in front of the boy you loved as he took you all in.

It didn’t take long before Eddie’s hands roamed your skin, finding your breasts.

“You’re so soft.” Eddie moaned into your neck as he took in the fact that you now smelled like him. He sent all over you; he was feral. He needed to claim you as his own. How could he be so blind all these years? You were perfect; you were everything he ever wanted.

“Do you like soft?”

“Very much so.”

Eddie melted into you once more as he travelled down your body, kissing and nipping at every inch. You softly moaned when he flicked your nipples with his tongue, and you really moaned when he reached your wet pussy.

How Eddie loved the noises he was pulling from you. He would do anything to make you sing for him.

“You like that baby? You want me to touch you… here?” His index finger grazed your wet slit.

“Yes” you replied quickly, a little too quickly.

“Good, I don’t know what I would have done if you said no.”

You giggled, but it was cut off by the feeling of Eddie’s fingertips grazing your clit.

You’d daydreamed countless times about how his fingers would feel while you watched him while he and your brother jammed in your garage.

He circled your clit before dipping his head down to kiss your lower lips. Reality hit you once again. Eddie was eating you out. Eddie was eating you out like a man starved, in fact. How was he so good at this? Scratch that you didn’t want to know. Your thoughts slowed down as Eddie’s thick fingers entered your wet hole.

“Eddie!” You yelled with pleasure.

“Oh yes, sweetheart, say my name.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you replayed like a mantra.

As his fingers grazed that spot that only you managed to find when you were alone in your bed, exploring your body. You fell apart in his hands.

“Your pussy grips me so good, god I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Please, Eddie,” you begged in your blissed-out daze.

“Let me hear it again,” he smirked.

“I need you, please. I want your cock so badly."

“Mmmmmm, as you wish.” he pulled back so he could strip. You watched as his tight muscles flexed as he pulled off his shirt, then scrunched as he bent over to take off his bottoms.

His cock sprung out of their confines, and your breath hitched for what you thought was at least the fourth time that night.

You’ve imagined what it would look like, but none of the times ever did you imagine he was this hung. No wonder he was so confident and cocky around women. It was long, thick, and straight. No curvatures, just pure rod.

“I don’t think that’s going to fit,” you blurt out, not thinking.

“Don’t worry, Baby. It’ll fit.” he slunk back down on you, peppering your lips with more sensual kisses. His fingers travelled down to your pussy, stretching you out again, only this time, he used 3 fingers to make sure you were nice and ready.

“Please, I’m ready” You ground your pussy into Eddie’s hand.

Eddie reached over into his drawer, pulled out a condom, and slipped it over his shaft as quickly as possible. Seemed that he was just as eager as you.

Eddie kissed you hard as his cock slipped past your wet folds and inside, splitting you open. The wonderful burn of his cock burying itself inside of you. What could you say? It had been a while, and Eddie was the biggest you’ve ever had.

“Slowly,” you guided Eddie as he rocked his hips, giving you time to adjust.

“God, you’re so tight”

“Mmmphmm”

“Your noises are so pretty.” Eddie tucked a piece of fallen hair behind your ear.

Eddie took your breath away as he looked into your eyes. He was being so soft and gentle with you as if you could break.

“Eddie, please.”

“I got you, Princess”

Eddie rocked his hips with more emphasis; his body was moulding into yours. As his cock grazed your tight walls, you felt your body was brought to life.

“Oh fuck” your words slipped, not even realizing you were speaking.

“Come’on baby, let me hear you”

“You’re making me feel so good, Eddie!”

“More, tell me who you belong to.”

“ You! always been you, Eddie, please, I wanna come. Please make me cum on your cock.”

“Good girl. You’re being so good, f’me” Eddie's hips slapped into the backs of your thighs, and he plummeted into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

Eddie grabbed the backs of your knees and pushed them back to your shoulders, only making the angle more delicious as he fucked you. He watched as his cock disappeared into your wanton pussy. He watched as you clenched down on his cock, and he almost lost it as he tried not to cum right then and there.

“Fuck me, Tink! Your pussy is too good,” he gritted through his teeth, trying to keep the pace without blowing his load.

“Eddie!” Your body was on fire as his cock continuously hit your g spot. Your lower belly tingled as the feeling of your orgasm built up again.

“You close, baby?”

“Yes”

“Cum for me.”

“More, I need more.”

Eddie slipped his hand between you and gently circled your clit once again.

You moan, cockdrunk as your body begins to spasm around Eddie’s cock.

“Yes, that’s it, come on baby. Keep cuming. That’s my girl.”

Your eyes roll back into your head, and you clamp your jaw. Every muscle tightens and clenches as your second orgasm rips through you.

“Good girl. Good fuckin girl.” Eddie praises as he empties himself into the condom.

After a few moments of the two of you catching your breath and Eddie discarding the used condom, you break the silence.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you chuckled in disbelief.

“Adam is going to kill me,” Eddie laughed.

“Good, I’ve been meaning to get him back. You roll over to snuggle in his arms.

“And to think you were supposed to be in another man’s bed tonight.” Eddie hated that idea.

“At least I ended up in the right man’s bed.”

Part 2

Tagging those who seemed interested: @lofaewrites @lavendermunson @imyourdaninow @itsfreakingbats @allthingsjoeq

[getmeoutofhell]

Slasher House

warnings: cussing, demons, and well ofc, slashers.

a/n: enjoy my little angels!

you don’t know how you ended up here, but here you were, in a shitty house in the middle of no where. also did i mention there’s a bunch of psycho killers that live with you?? no? well let me tell you.

freddy, hannibal + will, art + the little girl, vincent, candy man, pin head, bo, bubba, thomas, penny + pennywise, michael, cory, all ghostfaces, jason, chucky, tiffany, carrie, jennifer, anabelle, patrick, crepper, valak, the crooked man, and the babadook somehow lived here.

well, bubba & thomas don’t live with you, but about an hour or so away. the come visit on saturday’s tho, so that’s nice.

about every damn 5 minutes there’s a fight somewhere happening. it’s usually freddy and jason, but sometimes it’s penny and pennywise going at it over something you don’t care to ask about.

sometimes you see art come in and break up the fight, you think it’s cute how he’s always there to help.

hannibal and will have their own stuff to them selves by acquiring their own room and bathroom. they keep their relationship and love live private from you and the rest of the group, but you guys respect it.

sometimes hannibal, will, candy man, and pin head have nice conversations, but will gets bored and leaves them alone.

patrick is everyone’s opp, like literally everyones. hannibal was fighting the urge to eat him as soon as he met him. but you had to beg him not to. freddy really can’t stand him. he said he’s a “proper bitch” which you can agree with somewhat.

now let’s talk about valak. he’s very, very, very sneaky. like, concerning type sneaky. you never hear him, or see him, unless he wants to be seen. he talks, barley. sometimes you see him with anabelle or the crooked man. he sometimes scares you, and he knows.

the babadook on the other hand, he stays hidden, literally. it’s your job to get up everyday and feed him his daily worms, or he gets grumpy and makes the house shake and shit. he kinda only trust you for some odd reason to feed him. you’ll never question it tho.

you sleep in the second floor of this monstrosity of an house. on your floor is freddy, carrie, billy, and stu.

carrie is very sweet, and usually speaks only when spoken to. freddy on the other hand…we all know how he is.

billy and stu, are probably the loudest on your floor. and that’s because they throw fucking party’s in their room with the other ghostfaces. sometimes you’re invited, sometimes not. it depends on billy’s mood that day.

now don’t get me started on the rest of them…

i really wanna start writing this so i hope you guys like it!

[crazyk-imagine]

Kicking and Newfound Spouses

Pairing: Shawn Hunter x Female!reader

Characters: Shawn Hunter, Female!reader, Cory Matthews, Topanga Lawrence, Jack Hunter

Warnings: Fluff, Cory being a dramatic bish, Panga is our homie, Jack is clueless, Shawn just wants his lady love, Eric is not mentioned but hiding somewhere in the scene, this was fun, I wanted to write for this fandom for a while, my baby bad boy hunter for the win, shawn introducing himself is an inside joke

Word Count: 570

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

You sit at the corner booth in your favorite restaurant, enjoying the quietness at your table even as the noise around you gets louder.

-

Shawn looks to his left and finds you, sitting there looking as pretty as ever.

Cory catches his gaze and realizes what, more like who, he’s looking at.

He shakes his head, “hey, Shawn.”

His friend turns to look at him.

“No.”

He pouts.

-

Topanga slips away from the two and wanders towards your table.

-

“Remember when we were ten and turned eleven?”

“Vaguely but go on.”

“She kicked you out of your chair because you called her essay messy. Are you- are you still with me here?”

“I am but I don’t see your point.”

“She will kick you out of your chair again, Shawn.”

“And I’ll lay on the floor a happy man.” He all but runs away from Cory.

-

“Hey," he slips in beside you. “Shawn hunter at your service,” he holds his hand out to you.

You glance at it and his face and can’t understand why he’s at the booth or trying to persuade you. “To what? Fail?”

He furrows his brows confused by your comment, most girls would start swooning over him by now.

He shakes his head and continues. “No, to study.”

-

Cory stands in the corner still, biting his nails. “He's lost it.”

-

“You’ve never once studied in your life, Hunter. What makes you think I’d want to study with you now?”

“It’ll be a date you won’t forget,” he tells you with one hundred percent certainty.

You take a deep breath, “I’ll admit that was a little smooth on your part, kudos to you but I can’t take that chance right now. I’m trying to get a good grade.”

“What about after?”

“After what?”

“The test. I want to go out with you.” You glance at Topanga from the corner of your eye, needing some reassurance that what he’s saying is real and not a joke.

You angle yourself to face him, “if there was ever a time where I’d say yes, which I haven’t yet, what would you be willing to do in order for that date to happen?”

He takes a deep breath, “I’ll let you kick me out of this booth.”

The corner of your lips twitch. “You two can’t let that go, huh.”

“No, Cory’s traumatized by it but for me, that was the day I knew I met someone who I’d be happy calling my wife.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but chuckle.

He always knew the things to say to get a response out of you.

“Deal.” You hold your hand out for him to shake.

He shakes your hand and places a soft kiss on the back of it before letting you kick him out.

“My butt might be sore later, but I’m not upset about it.”

-

Jack leans down to ask Cory, “did he just let someone kick him out of a booth?”

The younger man nods his head, “he told her to.”

“I’m afraid to ask but why?”

“They’re going on a date.”

“Oh. Oh. He does realize that’s not how you ask a girl out, right?”

“He has his methods, and you have yours.”

[tremsing82]

My Thoughts on Night Court

So when I read acotar for the first time this summer (2024) my 3 best friends were the ones who peered pressured me to do so and our group chat became my reading experience chat. It was fun. But they are all pro-night court and pro-bat boys. And though I can be open and accepting of the narrative for it moves the plot forward I did start becoming more cynical and posing questions of the ethics and moral standings of the night court. My first big question to my friend group that got them all to pause and think was:

>Is it morally and ethically ok for Hewn City to fight in this war when they are trapped under a mountain and do not have access to Velaris. And Velaris expects hewn city to fight in the war to protect their peace, yet Velaris does not have an army and the citizens are not and to volunteer. Now yes some Velaris citizens did go fight for Adriata but again Rhys never sent out a request for Velaris citizens to join the war effort against Hybern. And also is it morally and ethically ok for Rhys to essentially segregate hewn city residents who will eventually visit Velaris one day considering that was the only request Keir had when Rhys asked for The DarkBringers to fight in the war. Rhys said yes to that because he had already told his Velaris city leaders they can tell the citizens they can deny Hewn City residents from entering their establishments. So these hewn city soldier are gonna go to war possibly be killed leaving behind a widow and children, or they are going to be brutally mutilated with scars or lost limbs. And then they or their widows and children are gonna arrive in Velaris and be denied access to a bake shop to buy a cookie or a toy store and denied the ability to buy a doll all while they went to war to keep this place safe and protected. <

I truly don’t think Rhys would have went to war with Hybern to protect hewn city or Illyria. He went to war specifically to protect Velaris the only city he loves. And that bothers me. And makes me dislike and not enjoy the Night Court, but essentially i really don’t like Velaris. I think it’s a spoiled city of entitled judgemental people similar to its 5/6 leaders of the Inner Circle. Mor is claimed to be the emissary between Velaris and Rhys and Hewn city but she does absolutely nothing to showcase that title and job. Except to tell her father when Rhys is going to visit. She claims to be the only dreamer ever to come out of or born in Hewn City and I HIGHLY doubt that. She tell Feyre the story about how she dreaded the day her power manifested because she knew she would be sold into a loveless marriage the way her cousins had been. So you’re telling me your cousins enjoyed their status and their betrothals but you are the only one who hated this custom. The IC is all telling me that everyone is Hewn City is dark and evil, so even a new baby is touched by evil and deserves to never see the sky outside of that mountain it was born in. How is this ethical and morally acceptable. Feyre says once to Lucien in MaF that if you stare long enough into the darkness sometimes it will stare back, and this to me should be applied to the Hewn Cory residents. If all that they have is darkness and hate and hurt to live with it’s not surprising they all embrace that darkness and hate. They are not given other options. Should we the reader question the ethics of how the Hewn city is seen and talked about and even ruled?

So why do people argue FOR this Court? Why does the majority of the fandom hate to be asked these question or see these blatant issues for this court? Why am I told it’s all a mask that they all have to don to protect the innocents and freedom of a spoiled city that is so well hidden that it remains outside of the conflict happening in Prythian. The attack on Velaris by the Attor was the first time the outside world’s conflict finally reared its ugly head to its citizens. Yes they claim they felt bad for the suffering the other courts went through for the 50yrs of Amarantha’s reign but none of them told Rhys to break the wards hiding them, when he finally returned. None said we should band together and go help the other courts rebuild since we have remained untouched for 50yrs. They didn’t pull their resources together to send aid to the most hard hit villages and cities in other courts. They continued on with their days of holding theater production and eating safely at restaurants and going to nightclubs for 50yrs.

And I am suppose to be mad at Tamlin for starting to reissue his courts only form of revenue to ensure it continued ability to function. A tax that only happens twice a year and is only 10% of whatever a person has produced. So if a person has 10hens they only have to give over 1 hen. If a person has 1 hen that produced 10eggs then they only have to give over 1 egg. 10% twice a year, that’s not a bad taxation. Hell the river nymphs didn’t have to give Tamlin fish, he never asked for fish. He just asked for 10% of whatever they produced. They could have handed him 10blades of lake grass or a cup of river water, he would have accepted it. And heard their pleas for fish to be helped brought back into their lake. He wasn’t gleeful about having to find perpetrators of not paying taxes, he just knows this is how his court functions and runs. Rhys says we do a different form of tax, which to me I assume he means modern day taxation which is sales tax, property tax, and/or income tax. Which overarching means the citizens of night court are paying more into taxes than in Spring Court.

For the Illyrian struggles with female empowerment i struggle to always completely blame Rhys on this. I think Illyria has Rhys by the balls. If Rhys enforces his laws in Illyria again wing clipping and female oppression then he loses one of his strongest armies (which the fandom and SJM also claim is possibly the strongest army in Prythian 😒😪🙄). This is an army that is under his full control and cannot deny his decree to go fight or go to battle like the Keir can do with the DarkBringers. So if he starts killing Illyrian men for wing clippings or if he starts throwing Illyrian men into the barrack cells then he essentially will lose half of 75% of his army. He is definitely in between a rock and a hard place with how to enforce the laws that protect Illyrian women. A person on Instagram had a wonderful idea to help this conundrum; Rhys law should be if any Illyrian woman has their wings clip illegally from this day forward then the males in her household will also have their wings clipped. If they are not afraid of Rhys throwing them in jail or killing them then go to their biggest fear losing their access to flight. And enforce it. See how quickly the other males stop once they see one neighbors household have the patriarch and sons all lose access to flying. And it should be done in the city streets where all can see. Now granted this could turn Rhys into looking like and feeling like a dictator of a violent regime but truthfully I sometimes already see him that way anyway with how much he torment and degrades hewn city and its residents. Now like I said in the begging of this paragraph i don’t fully hate Rhys on this. My arguments for Rhys on Illyria is that he is the first high lord to make laws and changes to a society that has been free to do what they want in their traditions for possibly 15,000 years. He has put laws into place to help empower women. Emerie inherited her father’s shop because of these news laws being in place allowing women to own and inherit property. Emerie is progressive, she knew of the new laws and she seized them and used them to help herself. Other Illyrian woman have been oppressed for so long that the thought of finally using the new laws to enforce their rights to autonomy or property ownership or joining the army is scary for them. It’s gonna take more than a male high-lord and 2 male Illyrians to help them feel safe to express their freedom. Which I think will come in with Nesta moving the Valkyries training to the Illyrian camps to help the lllyrian females. They gonna see females learning battle strategy and fighting techniques that are designed specifically for females, they are going to see females who can’t fly conquering the blood rite. That will be the driving force for the female Illyrians to enforce the new laws that Rhys put in place to help them and free them and protect them. Rhys has the laws in place he just needs the people to start using them.

And I guess I will end this essay with I don’t hate Rhys or his IC (well most of them, I hate Amren and Mor annoys me for being useless). I just wish we could explore the other lands. Why must everything be so centralized to night court/Velaris. I know they have the ancient crabby lady (Amren 🙄🙄🙄) who has answers to Prythians lost history (which first she never wants to share willingly, second doesn’t always share all the truth, and lastly her knowledge is mostly night court focus).

-Day Court has the most libraries in all of Prythian with books written that are as old as their lands. Day Court is the only court with Pegasus, a rare magical animal that are dying/going extinct. Day Court is the court of the Sun. And what are suns but stars in the night sky. Suns are liquid fire. And the dread trove items which are as old as the daglan has sun symbols all over them and makes Helion feel uncomfortable which makes him think an ancestor of his might have own it or used it.

-Autumn court has entire strong bloodlines missing because they followed Theia into Midgard. A bloodline that just reappeared into Prythian in Night Court. I would like to know their history with Queen Theia, with how they helped fight the Daglan.

-I know the Daglan (acotar), the Asteri (CC), and the Valg (ToG) are all the same parasitic beings. And we know the fae of Prythian overthrew their Daglan. And we know in ToG on how to kill a Valg (fire and healing). And well I can only assume that Autumn court with their fire and possibly Day Court with their sun fire and possible healing magic were the ones that helped liberate Prythian from the Daglan in battles.

-And well we have a character, Lucien, that people kinda write off as not important to the world plot, who has parents from these 2 courts. But the majority of the fandom write him off because well he is not from night court, he is not a bat boy, and he is not a night court/rhys worshipper. And so we have all this foreshadowing but I worry that SJM is just not gonna do anything with it because it not night court specific. Now granted she might have us leave the night court finally and learn the importance of Prythians history through Day Court and Autumn Court. We know Eris was happy to share Prythians history with Nesta who was showing curiosity but Cassian was rude and stopped him. We might find out that Eris is a history nerd like Bryce. That he is researching his bloodlines and his courts involvement in the building and creation of Prythian. We might find out from Helion that Dawn and Day were once a single court but split to give the solar courts more chances of pleading their cases at high lord meetings where the seasonal courts had more sway in votes. We truly just don’t know anything about these courts and Night Court doesn’t want to know. So as a reader who likes to travel a world in a book I want to leave this oppressive and isolated land and meet the others.

[scionshtola]

most of the time i enjoy that xiv is the friendship and forgiveness game but sometimes the narrative will imply the wol’s forgiveness for a character that makes me go [banshees of inisherin padraic voice] some things there’s no moving on from

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How a billionaire’s mediocre pump-and-dump “book” became a “bestseller”

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/15/your-new-first-name/#that-dagger-tho

I was on a book tour the day my editor called me and told me, "From now on, your middle name is 'Cory.'"

"That's weird. Why?"

"Because from now on, your first name is 'New York Times Bestselling Author.'"

That was how I found out I'd hit the NYT list for the first time. It was a huge moment – just as it has been each subsequent time it's happened. First, because of how it warmed my little ego, but second, and more importantly, because of how it affected my book and all the books afterwards.

Once your book is a Times bestseller, every bookseller in America orders enough copies to fill a front-facing display on a new release shelf or a stack on a bestseller table. They order more copies of your backlist. Foreign rights buyers at Frankfurt crowd around your international agents to bid on your book. Movie studios come calling. It's a huge deal.

My books became Times bestsellers the old-fashioned way: people bought and read them and told their friends, who bought and read them. Booksellers who enjoyed them wrote "shelf-talkers" – short reviews – and displayed them alongside the book.

That "From now on your first name is 'New York Times Bestselling Author' gag is a tradition. When @wilwheaton's memoir Still Just A Geek hit the Times list, I texted the joke to him and he texted back to say @jscalzi had already sent him the same joke (and of course, Scalzi and I have the same editor, Patrick Nielsen Hayden):

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/still-just-a-geek-wil-wheaton

But not everyone earns that first name the same way. Some people cheat.

Famously, the Church of Scientology was caught buying truckloads of L Ron Hubbard books (published by Scientology's own publishing arm) from booksellers, returning them to their warehouse, then shipping them back to the booksellers when they re-ordered the sold out titles. The tip-off came when booksellers opened cases of books and found that they already bore the store's own price-stickers:

https://www.latimes.com/local/la-scientology062890-story.html

The reason Scientology was willing to go to such great lengths wasn't merely that readers used "NYT Bestseller* to choose which books to buy. Far more important was the signal that this sent to the entire book trade, from reviewers to librarians to booksellers, who made important decisions about how many copies of the books to stock, whether to display them spine- or face out, and whether to return unsold stock or leave it on the shelf.

Publishers go to great lengths to send these messages to the trade: sending out fancy advance review copies in elaborate packaging, taking out ads in the trade magazines, featuring titles in their catalogs and sending their sales-force out to impress the publisher's enthusiasm on their accounts.

Even the advance can be a way to signal the trade: when a publisher announces that it just acquired a book for an eyebrow-raising sum, it's not trumpeting the size of its capital reserves – it's telling the trade that this book is a Big Deal that they should pay attention to.

(Of all the signals, this one may be the weakest, even if it's the most expensive for publishers to send. Take the $1.25m advance that Rupert Murdoch's Harpercollins paid to Sarah Palin for her unreadable memoir, Going Rogue. As with so many of the outsized sums Murdoch's press and papers pay to right wing politicians, the figure didn't represent a bet on the commercial prospects of the book – which tanked – but rather, a legal way to launder massive cash transfers from the far-right billionaire to a generation of politicians who now owe him some rather expensive favors.)

All of which brings me to the New York Times bestselling book Read Write Own by the billionaire VC New York Times Bestselling Author Chris Dixon. Dixon is a partner at A16Z, the venture capitalists who pumped billions into failed, scammy, cryptocurrency companies that tricked normies into converting their perfectly cromulent "fiat" money into shitcoins, allowing the investors to turn a massive profit and exit before the companies collapsed or imploded.

Read Write Own (subtitle: "Building the Next Era of the Internet") is a monumentally unconvincing hymn to the blockchain. As Molly White writes in her scathing review, the book is full of undisclosed conflicts of interest, with Dixon touting companies he has a direct personal stake in:

https://www.citationneeded.news/review-read-write-own-by-chris-dixon/

But this book's defects go beyond this kind of sleazy pump-and-dump behavior. It's also just bad. The arguments it makes for the blockchain as a way of escaping the problems of an enshittified, monopolized internet are bad arguments. White dissects each of these arguments very skillfully, and I urge you to read her review for a full list, but I'll reproduce one here to give you a taste:

After three chapters in which Dixon provides a (rather revisionistd) history of the web to date, explains the mechanics of blockchains, and goes over the types of things one might theoretically be able to do with a blockchain, we are left with "Part Four: Here and Now", then the final "Part Five: What's Next". The name of Part Four suggests that he will perhaps lay out a list of blockchain projects that are currently successfully solving real problems.

This may be why Part Four is precisely four and a half pages long. And rather than name any successful projects, Dixon instead spends his few pages excoriating the "casino" projects that he says have given crypto a bad rap,e prompting regulatory scrutiny that is making "ethical entrepreneurs … afraid to build products" in the United States.f

As White says, this is just not a good book. It doesn't contain anything to excite people who are already blockchain-poisoned crypto cultists – and it also lacks anything that will convince normies who never let Matt Damon or Spike Lee convince them to trade dollars for magic beans. It's one of those books that manages to be both paper and a paperweight.

And yet…it's a New York Times Bestseller. How did this come to pass? Here's a hint: remember how the Scientologists got L Ron Hubbard 20 consecutive #1 Bestsellers?

As Jordan Pearson writes for Motherboard, Read Write Own earned its place on the Times list because of a series of massive bulk orders from firms linked to A16Z and Dixon, which ordered between dozens and thousands of copies and gave them away to employees or just randos on Twitter:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/n7emkx/chris-dixon-a16z-read-write-own-nyt-bestseller

The Times recognizes this in a backhanded way, by marking Read Write Own on the list with a "dagger" (†) that indicates the shenanigans (the same dagger appeared alongside the listing for Donald Trump Jr's Triggered after the RNC spent a metric scientologyload of money – $100k – buying up cases of it):

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/11/21/books/donald-trump-jr-triggered-sales.html

There's a case for the Times not automatically ignoring bulk orders. Since 2020, I've run Kickstarters where I've pre-sold my books on behalf of my publisher, working with bookstores like Book Soup and wholesalers like Porchlight Books to backers when they go on sale. I signed and personalized 500+ books at Vroman's yesterday for backers who pre-ordered my next novel, The Bezzle:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/53531243480/

But there's a world of difference between pre-orders that hundreds or thousands of readers place that are aggregated into a single bulk order, and books that are bought by CEOs to give away to people who may not have any interest in them. For the book trade – librarians, reviewers, booksellers – the former indicates broad interest that justifies their attention. The latter just tells you that a handful of deep-pocketed manipulators want you to think there's broad interest.

I'm certain that Dixon – like me – feels a bit of pride at having "earned" a new first name. But Dixon – like me – gets something far more tangible than a bit of egoboo out of making the Times list. For me, a place on the Times list is a way to get booksellers and librarians excited about sharing my book with readers.

For Dixon, the stakes are much higher. Remember that cryptocurrency is a faith-based initiative whose mechanism is: "convince normies that shitcoins will be worth more tomorrow than they are today, and then trade them the shitcoins that cost you nothing to create for dollars that they worked hard to earn."

In other words, crypto is a bezzle, defined by John Kenneth Galbraith as "The magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it."

So long as shitcoins haven't fallen to zero, the bag-holders who've traded their "fiat" for funny money can live in the bezzle, convinced that their "investments" will recover and turn a profit. More importantly, keeping the bezzle alive preserves the possibility of luring in more normies who can infuse the system with fresh dollars to use as convincers that keep the bag-holders to keep holding that bag, rather than bailing and precipitating the zeroing out of the whole scam.

The relatively small sums that Dixon and his affiliated plutocrats spent to flood your podcasts with ads for this pointless 300-page Ponzi ad are a bargain, as are the sums they spent buying up cases of the book to give away or just stash in a storeroom. If only a few hundred retirees are convinced to convert their savings to crypto, the resulting flush of cash will make the line go up, allowing whales like Dixon and A16Z to cash out, or make more leveraged bets, or both. Crypto is a system with very few good trades, but spending chump change to earn a spot on the Times list (dagger or no) is a no-brainer.

After all, the kinds of people who buy crypto are, famously, the kinds of people who think books are stupid ("I would never read a book" -S Bankman-Fried):

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2022/11/29/sam-bankman-fried-reading-effective-altruism/

There's precious little likelihood that anyone will be convinced to go long on crypto thanks to the words in this book. But the Times list has enough prestige to lure more suckers into the casino: "I'm not going to read this thing, but if it's on the list, that means other people must have read it and think it's convincing."

We are living through a golden age of scams, and crypto, which has elevated caveat emptor to a moral virtue ("not your wallet, not your coins"), is a scammer's paradise. Stein's Law tells us that "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop," but the purpose of a bezzle isn't to keep the scam going forever – just until the scammer can cash out and blow town. The longer the bezzle goes on for, the richer the scammer gets.

Not for nothing, my next novel – which comes out on Feb 20 – is called The Bezzle. It stars Marty Hench, my hard-driving, two-fisted, high-tech forensic accountant, who finds himself unwinding a whole menagerie of scams, from a hamburger-based Ponzi scheme to rampant music royalty theft to a vast prison-tech scam that uses prisoners as the ultimate captive audience:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

Patrick Nielsen Hayden – the same editor who gave me my new first name – once told me that "publishing is the act of connecting a text with an audience." Everything a publisher does – editing, printing, warehousing, distributing – can be separated from publishing. The thing a publisher does that makes them a publisher – not a printer or a warehouser or an editing shop – is connecting books and audiences.

Seen in this light, publishing is a subset of the hard problem of advertising, religion, politics and every other endeavor that consists in part of convincing people to try out a new idea:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/04/self-publishing/

This may be the golden age of scams, but it's the dark age of publishing. Consolidation in distribution has gutted the power of the sales force to convince booksellers to stock books that the publisher believes in. Consolidation in publishing – especially Amazon, which is both a publisher and the largest retailer in the country – has stacked the deck against books looking for readers and vice-versa (Goodreads, a service founded for that purpose, is now just another tentacle on the Amazon shoggoth). The rapid enshittification of social media has clobbered the one semi-reliable channel publicists and authors had to reach readers directly.

I wrote nine books during lockdown (I write as displacement activity for anxiety) which has given me a chance to see publishing in the way that few authors can: through a sequence of rapid engagements with the system as a whole, as I publish between one and three books per year for multiple, consecutive years. From that vantagepoint, I can tell you that it's grim and getting grimmer. The slots that books that connected with readers once occupied are now increasingly occupied by the equivalent of the botshit that fills the first eight screens of your Google search results: book-shaped objects that have gamed their way to the top of the list.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/03/botshit-generative-ai-imminent-threat-democracy

I don't know what to do about this, but I have one piece of advice: if you read a book you love, tell other people about it. Tell them face-to-face. In your groupchat. On social media. Even on Goodreads. Every book is a lottery ticket, but the bezzlers are buying their tickets by the case: every time you tell someone about a book you loved (and even better, why you loved it), you buy a writer another ticket.

Meanwhile, I've got to go get ready for my book tour. I'm coming to LA, San Francisco, Seattle, Vancouver, Calgary, Phoenix, Portland, Providence, Boston, New York City, Toronto, San Diego, Salt Lake City, Tucson, Chicago, Buffalo, as well as Torino and Tartu (details soon!).

If you want to get a taste of The Bezzle, here's an excerpt:

https://www.torforgeblog.com/2023/11/20/excerpt-reveal-the-bezzle-by-cory-doctorow/

And here's the audiobook, read by New York Times Bestselling Author Wil Wheaton:

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_459/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_459_-_The_Bezzle_Read_By_Wil_Wheaton.mp3

[hazelminesims]

Last few updates before I head into my other save..

Essence has been enjoying some "me" time while Cory watches the baby more. She didn't know she needed time to herself as much as she does.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Yule Lodge - Part One

A PEDROSTORIES SECRET SANTA GIFT FIC

A/N: As always, a big thank you to the moderators of @pedrostories for organizing this event! It's always a lot of fun and definitely helps put me in the holiday spirit every year. I can't wait to see what others have created for this event! This story kind of completely ran away from me, so as you can see, this is only the beginning. I hope my fic recipient doesn't mind, but it's looking like a three part story, which I'm aiming to get the rest of posted within the next few days. Now, if you'll all suspend disbelief with me, there's a very exclusive, high-end Bed & Breakfast I'd like you all to visit...

Gift Tag: SURPRISE @covetyou ! I was your Secret Santa for the Pedrostories gift swap! You gave me so many great prompts and ideas to run with, but the ones that stuck out most to me were "Magic is real" and "chaotic meet cute". Out of the characters that you listed, Ezra and Dieter seemed like likely candidates, and that's where my top secret anonymous ask where I made you choose emojis with no context came into play. You (blindly) choose Dieter, and I am so glad that you did because I have been having a blast writing this for you and I truly hope that you enjoy it! Wishing you a very Merry Christmas, the happiest of holiday seasons and only the best in the New Year, lovely!!

Warnings: brief mention of infidelity (not Dieter or Reader!) cannabis consumption, I think that's it for now ;)

Word Count: 5,416

Summary: Last minute holiday travel plans sure can be chaotic sometimes. In some cases, it can even seem as though there is some kind of supernatural intervention going on. But that's crazy... Right?

He wasn’t supposed to be here. 

Wherever the fuck here is. 

As the cab pulled up to its destination, Dieter rolled his forehead against the rear passenger side window to get a better view of the place, ignoring the way that the chill from the glass sunk into his skin. His eyes narrowed, then blinked wide as he took in the Dickensian looking Bed and Breakfast. 

Well it’s sure as shit not the Savoy. 

That was where he was supposed to be staying. That was where he had asked Cori, his assistant, to book him a suite from the 23rd to the 26th. That was where he had been planning to spend his Christmas, sprawled in a king sized bed wearing baggy pajama pants, devouring snowflake shaped THC infused sugar cookies, watching old movies and ordering room service until the holiday was good and over. Just like he’d done almost every year for the previous two decades. 

And to her credit, Cori had booked him that suite. She’d done it months ago, when she made the travel arrangements for the press tour that had brought him to London in the first place. He was there to promote Getaway Man - the must see action-thriller that was set to open worldwide on Christmas Day, and that was already receiving Oscar buzz - with two of his co-stars. They had both gone straight to the airport following the final round of interviews, though, anxious and eager to get back home in time for holiday celebrations with their families. But Dieter had planned to do just the opposite from the get go, so all he had to do was check out of one hotel, travel a few blocks, and check into another one. Cori had sent him receipts along with his itinerary, and his stay at the Savoy had been on both of them. 

It wasn’t a booking issue that caused the last minute switcharoo. Or, rather, it wasn’t an issue with the room that Dieter had booked. It actually had to do with another guest’s reservation - his ex-wife’s. Or, rather (again), it had to do with a reservation made by Anika’s new husband, fellow actor Mark Atlas. 

And people say my last name is bullshit. 

Anyway, apparently Mark found out that Dieter was going to be staying at the Savoy while he and Anika were also going to be there, and promptly threw a Hollywood sized hissy fit about the “optics” of the three of them spending Christmas under the same roof. Something about “not wanting to put Anika through the ordeal of being around Dieter.” As though he was the one who had shocked her by asking for the divorce. 

As though I was the one who cheated. 

It was far more likely that Map Man was worried about his sweet, innocent wife “accidentally” bumping into Dieter under the mistletoe in the middle of the night, than he was about putting her through anything. 

And for the record, even if she had tumbled into Dieter’s lap wearing nothing but a couple of strategically placed Christmas ribbons, he wouldn’t have done a damn thing about it. He wasn’t like Mark. He didn’t need - or want - to fuck someone else’s wife. 

No. This had nothing to do with Atlas looking out for Anika, and Dieter knew it. This was about Hollywood’s new favorite golden boy snapping his fingers and getting what he wanted at Dieter’s expense. Dieter’s body of work since the Cliff Beasts fiasco may have been award worthy, his performances lauded by critics and fans alike. But Mark Atlas had just signed on to a six movie deal in a superhero franchise that already had comic cons selling out despite the fact that he hadn’t been announced to the panel yet. The first film in the series hadn’t even been released but McDonald’s already had the fucking action figures in their goddamn happy meals. 

In short, Atlas was the bigger, shinier, more family friendly name at the moment. And in show business, the moment was all that mattered. 

So even though Dieter had checked into his room at the Savoy earlier that day without issue, and despite the fact that he’d already changed into his baggiest pair of pajama pants and shaggy green robe, the call from the front desk still came. It wasn’t a demand that he leave. It wasn’t even really a suggestion. The manager had simply stated that another guest expressed concern over the “possibility of a negative encounter with Dieter”, and asked if he would like to cancel his stay for a full refund, plus a complimentary three night stay at a time of his choosing. 

Good to know I’m still shiny enough that they didn’t want to piss me off entirely. 

He didn’t need to bother asking the manager which guest had expressed that particular concern. There was only one person Dieter could think of who both held that kind of sway, and disliked him enough to purposely derail his holiday. He knew it was Mark. 

Even though I have no idea why that fucker hates me so damn much. He fucking won. 

Though the thought of spitefully refusing to leave just to screw with Atlas was tempting, Dieter just wasn’t in the mood for a big dramatic debacle. And even though it hurt to know that Anika was seemingly fine with Mark’s treatment of him, he didn’t want to give in and invite the negative encounter that Mark was setting him up for. 

Instead, he told the manager that he’d check out as soon as he found a new hotel, and took the man up on the offer for a future stay. He then promptly texted Cori to fill her in on everything and crossed his fingers in hopes that she had some secret backup options up her sleeve. The fact that it was mere hours away from Christmas Eve in one of the world’s busiest cities made it a tall order, and he was aware of that. But Cori had proven time and time again that tall orders were her specialty, so Dieter was cautiously hopeful. 

When his phone rang in his hand a few minutes later, he ceased his pacing to answer it. 

“Cori?” He plopped down on the edge of the bed as he spoke, hardly holding back a groan at how goddamn comfortable the mattress was. Can’t believe I don’t even get to sleep on it. “Please tell me you found something else.” He flopped all the way back, sinking into the down-filled duvet. Oh, fuck you, Mark. “I really don’t want to have to come back to-“ 

“Actually,” an unfamiliar female voice cut him off. “My name is Ivy, Mr. Bravo. I work for Cori. She asked me to handle finding you a new place to stay since she flew home yesterday to be at her son’s-“ 

“School holiday show.” Dieter mumbled, covering his eyes and scrubbing his hand back over his forehead and into his hair. Fuck, I knew that. “Yeah, that’s right, she told me.” 

It had come up a few times as the press tour was winding down, the woman clearly looking forward to being able to be there for her kid’s performance. Though that kind of life was about as far from his own as he could imagine, Dieter admired the way that Cori prioritized being present for her kids as much as possible. He knew that being with her family made her happy, so he was glad that that’s where she was. But wait…

“Hang on.” Dieter propped himself up on one elbow. “I didn’t know Cori had anyone working for her.” She’d been his assistant for over ten years, and he never once heard her mention the name Ivy. Not that she wouldn’t need help. I’m not always the easiest. 

She let out a silver-bell laugh, the sound high and tingling. “Well that’s because I’m good at what I do, and so is Cori. Usually I get to stay behind the scenes, but this was a-” 

“A clusterfuck?” Dieter supplied, slumping back down again. 

“I was going to say a special case.” She laughed again. “Trust me, I’ve seen fuckier clusters.” 

He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or not, nor was he sure if it actually did. Switching the phone to speaker and laying it on his chest, he crossed both arms over his eyes. “Does that mean you have a backup place for me?” He crossed his fingers as he waited for her response. 

“It does, Mr. Bravo, I-” 

“You can just call me Dieter, Ivy. Actually, please just call me Dieter. And-” Her words clicked then, and he bolted up to both elbows, sending his phone sliding down to his stomach. “Wait, did you say yes?”

“I did,” Ivy confirmed. Fuck yeah! “But it’s a little unconventional.” 

Dieter sat all the way up, reaching for his phone before it could fall between his legs and down to the floor. Lifting it level with his mouth, he cocked his head to the side. “What does that mean?”

Ivy cleared her throat. “It’s not a hotel, per say.” Okay… “More like a high end, exclusive bed and breakfast. And technically it’s just outside the city.” 

Dieter grimaced, clunking the edge of his phone to his forehead. A bed and breakfast? Like… With other people? And shared common rooms and… He considered his other option - flying back to L.A. and going home to his empty house - and the grimace deepened. “How exclusive is exclusive?” 

“Pretty private. The place is an old Victorian mansion. It accommodates guests in four suites, but I was told that only one other room is booked at the moment.” 

He sighed, bringing his phone back down to his lips. I guess this is the best I can hope for. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Ivy questioned. “Does that mean I should go ahead and call them?” 

Dieter dropped his phone into the fluffy bedding beside him. “Yes. Please.” He stood, rubbing at one eye. “And can you also call me a car? I don’t-” 

“Of course,” she answered. “Consider it done.” 

“Great.” It was far from great, but it would have to do. “I really appreciate it, Ivy.” That part was 100% true. 

“My pleasure! I’ll go ahead and communicate with the Savoy staff, too, that way everyone is on the same page. Oh, and I’ll update Cori, of course.” 

“Perfect.” Again, it wasn’t. Perfect was the thread count of the sheets he was leaving behind. Perfect was the five-star service he wouldn’t be receiving. Perfect was the way the champagne chiller always had ice in it and the towels were always warm and fluffy. But it beats the shit out of going home. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. Hopefully you won’t need me again, so I’ll wish you a Merry Christmas now.” 

“Um, yeah.” Dieter sniffed. “Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ll uh…” He raised his arms and then dropped them to his sides. “I’ll try not to offend the other guest with my presence so I won’t have to bother you again.” 

“Never a bother, Dieter. I’m always happy to help when you need it.” 

With that, she ended the call, and Dieter was left to gather his things and wait for the car to come pick him up and bring him to the secret, backup, break-in-case-of-clusterfuck location that Ivy had procured for him. 

Looking up at the place once he arrived and got out of the car, Dieter really wished he’d asked her a few more questions before telling her to make the call. 

Snowflakes fell slowly through the air as he stood there in his pajama pants with his thick, plush brown fleece pulled over his robe and his bag slung over his shoulder, staring at the sign affixed to the side of the building. “The Yule Lodge”, he read aloud, rolling his eyes at the stylized flame surrounding the name of the B&B, an obvious play on words. “Shit, that’s cheesy.” 

The building itself looked as though it only existed at Christmastime - the cornices catching the fresh snow in picture perfect banks, the candles illuminating the windows like something off a holiday card, garlands of greenery wrapped around the porch railing and draped over the doorway. So if any place was going to have a name that stunk of cheddar, he figured this was the one. I mean… He tilted his head to take the sight in. It’s festive as fuck, that’s for sure. 

Not that that part mattered. He still planned to spend the next few days sprawled out like a starfish in bed, waiting out the holiday. Even if it means doing it here. 

He turned to wave a thanks to the driver who had dropped him off, only to find that the car was gone. Huh? That’s weird, I didn’t hear the tires… He shrugged. Whatever. He’d already had one of the snowflake cookies before the whole Mark Atlas shitstorm started, so he chalked missing the car driving away up to that kicking in and giving him tunnel vision for the building’s campy signage. 

With a sigh that turned into a visible white puff in the chilly air, Dieter climbed the two small steps and reached for the door handle. Alright. Here we go. Combing one hand through his hair, he shook the snow from his curls, stepped inside, and looked around. Oh, holy shit. 

The B&B’s cheery exterior had nothing on the inside. 

Wreaths, garlands, and sprigs of greenery adorned walls, windows, railings and the carved, wooden mantel of a roaring fireplace that spread a warm, golden glow throughout the whole space. Deep red velvet ribbons added lush pops of color, as did the gilded candlesticks atop the mantel. A bowl of clove-studded oranges sat as the centerpiece of the coffee table in front of the fire, and the smell of spice and citrus wafted through the air to fully warm his senses. 

To top it all off, a towering spruce tree stood in the corner of the room, lit by dozens of lights that were made to look like candles. Bows and baubles dressed the evergreen’s branches to elegant but cozy perfection. In a way, it was difficult to imagine what the room would look like - or feel like - without all the holiday decorations. 

He may have been trying to avoid acknowledging Christmas as much as possible, but Dieter couldn’t help but admit that the staff there had outdone themselves. It was fucking beautiful. If you’re into that kinda thing.

“Welcome to the Yule Lodge, Mr. Bravo.” 

Suddenly, a voice greeted him from somewhere to his left, making him jump and turn towards the sound. What? Who said tha- Oh. He’d been too distracted by the elaborate decorations to realize that he’d walked straight past the front desk and the smiling woman standing behind it. Right. I need to check in. 

Clearing his throat, he crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. “Um, thanks-” He glanced down at the golden nameplate that was pinned to the woman’s green cardigan. “-Laurel.” He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and leaned on the counter. “I guess you spoke with Ivy?” 

Laurel nodded, her curls bouncing. “I did. We’ve got you all set in room two until the 26th.” 

“Great.” He flashed her a smile. “Do you need a credit card now, or do I just pay when I check out, or-” 

Laurel’s curls swung as she shook her head. “No need for that right now, Mr. Bravo.”

At check out, then. “Okay.” He tapped the countertop with his fingertips. “In that case, can I get the room key? I’m about ready to-”

“Of course!” Laurel spun around to grab a key from one of four hooks, one of which was empty. Guess that means the other guest is already checked in. She spun back, key in hand, but stopped short of passing it to Dieter. “I just need to go over a few things with you about the Lodge first.” 

Dieter felt his shoulders slump. I’m being punished. I just want to get stoned and sleep and I’m being fucking punished. “Uh…Okay.” He sighed. “What, um… What do I need to know?”

Laurel launched into a run down of the Yule Lodge’s rules and amenities. Fully stocked kitchen and bar, chef-prepared meals for breakfast and dinner, fireplaces in the parlor, library and… something to do with the candles in the windows? She was saying something about a small holly wreath while holding it up with his key when Dieter’s attention was stolen completely by the creak of the stairs just visible beyond the parlor, and the stunning woman who was descending them - you. 

Huh. He blinked, watching the way your hand slid down the railing as you took the last few steps. Maybe it won’t be all bad, staying here. You looked up then, making quick, unintentional eye contact, and Dieter felt himself grin at the way your eyes widened when they met his, your mouth falling open in slight shock. Your tongue darted out to lick at your lips, and then you quickly slipped into another room. The library, maybe? 

But just when he had convinced himself to go throw his stuff upstairs and then come back down to see if you were still there - and maybe ask if you wanted to have a drink with him - he saw you slip back up the stairs with a book in hand, and his grin fell into a frown. Oh, well. Guess I’ll stick to the plan. 

By then, thankfully, Laurel was finished with her spiel, and she finally handed over the key, along with the small holly wreath. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Bravo. I hope it’s exactly what you need it to be.” 

I have no idea what that means but… “Thanks.” He smiled, nodding as he took the key from her. “Have a good night, Laurel.” 

With that, he headed upstairs to his room, where he promptly tossed the key and the little wreath onto the dresser, shucked his coat off, and collapsed into the bed with a groan. It wasn’t the plush, pillowy cloud bed he was supposed to be sleeping in, but for the next few days it would do just fine. And who knows? Your face popped into his head. Maybe I won’t spend the whole time holed up in here after all.

– – – 

You weren’t supposed to be here. 

And I’m not even sure I understand why or how I am but… 

You rolled over in the big, soft bed and gazed out the window as flurries fell outside. The picturesque grounds were covered in a thin white blanket of fresh snow, and the glow from the lamppost along with the flicker of the candle on the windowsill threw golden halos of light against the darkness in a way that warmed you through. 

I’m really glad that I am. 

Traveling solo was somewhat out of character for you. Doing it at Christmas - and missing your family’s annual holiday party - made that even more true. Add in the last minute nature of the trip, and it was no wonder that your parents and siblings (and probably your nosey aunt and cousins, too) were having a hard time accepting your decision to spend Christmas abroad by yourself. It simply wasn’t like you. 

Which was, of course, the whole point. You wanted a change, had been looking for a way to shake things up. It wasn’t that you were unhappy with anything in your life. You had a job that you enjoyed and that paid you well, owned a house that you had turned into a home, and had a close group of friends who you knew would be there for you no matter what. But what you wanted, or maybe what you needed, was a little adventure. A measured dose of the unknown. A play from out of left field. 

Because even though you were happy with the things that you had, there was a part of you that felt like you only had most of those things because you followed some predetermined script for your life. Graduate from a good school, get a respectable job, buy and maintain a home… It was all good stuff, and you took none of it for granted. But sometimes it felt a little too similar to the board game version of Life, spinning the wheel and plopping your little plastic car along the path, collecting socially acceptable experiences along the way. 

Even the last few vacations you took weren’t really vacations. You’d had to travel for three separate destination weddings in the last year and a half. And then there was the trip your grandma surprised the whole family with, which was extremely nice, but was also extremely mandatory. So not only did you not get to choose the when or where of your last four trips, you didn’t have much say in the what to do part, either. 

You deserved to do something unexpected and just for you. So when you got the unexpected news that you’d won an all expense paid trip to London to spend Christmas in a quaint, Victorian-style B&B, you chose to act on it. 

I don’t even remember entering the contest, but… You glanced around the room and ran your hands over the quilted comforter. But I’m here. It’s real. So I must have. 

You thought back to the voicemail you’d received a few weeks prior, and how you almost deleted it without calling back to follow up. It seemed like a scam. And even if it wasn’t, you were sure that there was no way it could actually be free. You figured it had to do with a timeshare or some marketing promo where you could win a free trip after spending a crazy amount of money on rental cars or luggage. But a curious little voice from the back of your brain piped up and told you to at least Google the phone number first. 

And when you did that, and it didn’t link you to numerous Reddit posts about scam callers or direct you to a clearly phony website, but instead brought you to a completely legitimate page hosted by the site where you had booked your most recent flight for your friend’s wedding in Puerto Vallarta, displaying your name and stating that all you had to do was call to claim your prize, you allowed yourself to possibly entertain the notion that maybe it wasn’t too good to be true. 

You were still cautiously skeptical when you pressed call and waited while the phone rang, still expecting there to be a catch somewhere. You also expected the number you dialed would be an automated one, and that you would just be pressing buttons when prompted to complete the process. So it was a surprise to you when a very human voice greeted you after the second ring. 

“Thank you for calling Spirit Travel!” The woman on the other end spoke in a bright, cheerful tone as she introduced herself and then said your name, making sure she was speaking with the correct person. You were so taken aback by the fact that you were wrong about it being a recording that you completely missed her name, but you caught back up in time to confirm that you were in fact you. 

“I, um… I’m a little confused, to be honest,” you immediately confessed, shrugging as though she could see the lift of your shoulders through the phone. Shaking your head, you went on. “I don’t think I entered any contests, and I definitely don’t think I’ve ever heard of the-” You double checked the name of the place that the website had listed as your prize. “The Yule Lodge? Is it like a Christmas themed hotel or something?” 

The woman let out a small, jingling laugh. “You could say that. Christmastime is when the Lodge is at its best, that’s for sure.” That didn’t quite answer your question, but she continued. “And it’s a very small, boutique-y little place. Doesn’t draw a ton of tourist attention, so I’m not surprised that you haven’t heard of it. But I assure you it is absolutely lovely.” 

“Oh…kay.” You stared at your laptop screen, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at the scrolling congratulations banner. “I still don’t remember entering a contest, though.” 

“Oh, that part!” You heard what sounded like keystrokes from her end of the call, and figured that she was pulling up some information on a computer. “Yup, mmhmm. It’s right here.” Before you could ask her what was right where, she filled you in. “I’m emailing a screenshot of it to you right now so you can see it, too, but when you booked your trip to Mexico in September, you checked a box entering you in Spirit Travel sponsored giveaways. It’s all perfectly legitimate, I promise!” 

A few seconds later you received her email, opening it and seeing for yourself that you had in fact checked that box. Hm. Must’ve been a mistake. I usually opt out of that crap. You shrugged. But maybe I’ll stop doing that now. Finally sufficiently happy with the proof that the trip was real and that it wasn’t a hoax, you cleared your throat. “Okay, so it’s… It’s really free? Airfare, the hotel, all of it?” 

“Well, just to be clear, the Yule Lodge isn’t a hotel, per say. More like a very exclusive, high end bed and breakfast.” 

Sure. Semantics, whatever. “Okay, fine. Airfare, the B&B? That’s all free?” 

“Yup! We’ll even arrange a car to pick you up from the airport and drive you to the Lodge. All you have to do is say yes and then show up for your flight.” She paused. “So is that a yes?” 

You chewed your bottom lip, going back and forth in a span of a few seconds. What will everyone think when I’m not there on Christmas? What will my friends say when I tell them? They’ll probably think I’m nuts or something. But then that same voice that told you to call about the trip spoke up again. Who cares? It asked. Do it for yourself. And that was all it took to answer. 

“It’s a yes,” you said, excitement making you sound a little giddy. I can’t believe it, but… “Yeah, I’m in.” 

She went over a few more details with you regarding dates - December 23rd to the 26th - and flight times, and then let you know that if you had any more questions you could always call her back and she’d happily answer them. 

“Thank you, really, this is… I really needed this, so thanks-” You realized you never got her name after missing it initially. “I’m so sorry, what was your name again?” 

“Oh, no need to apologize,” she assured you. “I get it, you were excited. Happens all the time.” She chuckled. “But my name is Ivy.” 

“Well, thank you, Ivy. You’re pretty much my favorite person right now.” 

She laughed again. “I’ll take it! Listen, like I said, you can call me if you have any other questions about the trip. But otherwise, in case we don’t talk again, I hope you have a very Merry Christmas.” 

“You, too! I hope you get a surprise this good in your stocking this year.” 

“Oh,” she said in a wistful way that actually didn’t sound like a customer service put-on, “For me, making other people’s holidays special is the real gift.” 

With that, she signed off, and you were left with the task of telling everyone you knew that you were pitching them all a holiday curveball. 

They’d responded similarly to how you thought they would. But by the time you had checked in to the Yule Lodge, met Laurel, the exceptionally festive and cheerful hostess who had given you the quirkiest run-down on a hotel you’d ever gotten (including a somewhat campy but cute enough folklore-inspired instruction to place the small holly wreath she’d given you at check in around your door knob to “keep out unwanted spirits” on Christmas Eve) and settled into your room, it was far too late to worry about all of that. 

All you were concerned with for the next few days was which fireplace you’d be spending the most amount of time reading near, whether or not you felt like strolling the snow covered grounds in the morning, and possibly chatting with the other guest that Laurel had mentioned would be checking in shortly after you’d arrived. Or maybe not. Who knows, maybe they’ll want to be left alone. Either way, you were looking forward to a few days of answering to no one but yourself. And if it came with a heaping helping of authentic Christmas cheer? Even better. 

Deciding not to wait until morning to venture downstairs and into the library to choose your first of hopefully many books for the duration, you popped up from your bed and headed for the door, smiling to yourself as you made sure that the holly wreath was securely around the knob. Don’t want any bad spirits messing around in my room. About halfway down the stairs, you heard voices and realized that Laurel was giving her welcome speech to the other guest. Oh, guess they’re here. You peeked through the hall and into the parlor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person you’d be sharing the common areas of the Lodge with. But as was becoming a theme for this trip and everything connected to it, you were floored to find Academy Award winning actor Dieter Bravo looking right at you. 

Holy shit. You felt your eyes go about as round as the baubles hanging from the giant spruce tree, your mouth dropping open as your heart thundered in your chest. Holy shit, holy shit that’s Dieter Bravo. Oh my god. No, it’s not. It can’t be, right? You blinked and he was still there and still definitely Dieter Bravo and - wait is he..? Yup. He was grinning at you. Oh, fuck. 

You scurried down the last few stairs and disappeared into the library, repeating those two words over in your head in a series of tones ranging from disbelief and shock to disbelief and excitement, with a twinge of nerves because Oh, fuck, what am I supposed to say to Dieter Bravo? Your face flushed making you warmer than the fireplace on the other side of the room. There was plenty that you’d thought about saying to him, your imagination running a little wild at times when you saw interviews or red carpet photos of him, or when you saw his performances on screen and he made you fall in love with his characters time and time again. But all of those thoughts had occurred while you were under the realistic assumption that you would never actually get to say any of it to him. 

But now he was sleeping just down the hall from you. 

Blindly grabbing the first book your fingers found, you scurried back up the stairs and into the sanctuary of your room before you ran the risk of running into him on the way. Choosing a book was a fine enough thing not to put off until morning. Figuring out what to say to a celebrity that you had an innocent but huge crush on was something that definitely required you to sleep on it. Flopping back into your bed a little breathlessly, you had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

I did say I needed an adventure. 

Glancing down to see what book you’d grabbed, you read the title and laughed again. A Christmas Carol. Of course. What else would it be in this place? 

It took a while, but eventually you were able to calm your brain - and heartbeat - enough to sink into the story and let thoughts about how on earth you were going to interact with Dieter slide to the backburner, and eventually, you drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Laurel was making one last phone call before closing up and heading home for the evening. 

“Ivy?” She tapped her fingernails on the desk and grinned. “They’re both here. Just where they need to be this Christmas.” 

“Good,” the other woman said. “Now the rest is up to them.” 

– – – 

Dieter tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @tentacruels @alraedesigns @practicalghost

@trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns

@pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @noisynightmarepoetry

@haylzcyon @jessthebaker @pedrostories @covetyou

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

The snowflake

young president coriolanus snow x first lady reader

WARNING: snow is out of charakter, i am delulu, i can change him

Friend.

Ally.

First love.

Partner.

And now the husband. The man who slept soundly next to me meant all this to you. The sun poured into our shared bedroom along with the cold air coming in through the half-open window. As a result, Cory and I huddled together in our sleep to protect each other from the cold. I looked at his face buried in my shoulder, his quiet breathing made me smile and I kissed the top of his head feeling him start to wake up. “Good morning dearest,” he murmured in his morning voice. "Good morning love, I was afraid you wouldn't wake up," I replied. “Who would want to wake up if they could sleep next to you for the rest of the ages,” he growled back. “But you're too sweet. I laughed at his flattery. However, I rewarded him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth and began to slowly get up from the bed., Don't forget that today we have an interview with Lucky and...” my sentence was interrupted by an announcement. a rush of nausea that suddenly came over me.,, Are you okay , darling." Coriolanus shouted with panic in his voice as he quickly tried to get out of bed.,, Yeah yeah I'm fine.” I waved my hand at him to calm him down.,, You sure it looked bad so we can cancel the interview " to quickly counter., "No, it's fine. I didn't drink much water yesterday, so I felt nauseous. I carefully went to the kitchen where I poured myself a full glass of water and drank it. to have an interview as the first lady of Panem, but my day continued by going to teach students at the academy afterwards.I lectured on the history of Panem and my attitude made me quite a popular professor. Many of your former classmates were content to be representative wives, but I wanted more. I wouldn't mind just being a wife, but I remembered well how boring your professor's lectures were at the academy, thank you for this subject. And thanks to my enthusiasm, the students will also start to enjoy it. Therefore, I did not want to lose my lecture, so I decided to attend despite the nausea and the interview. Coriolanus in turn shared his schedule for the day, which included a meeting with the Minister and other presidential duties, as I liked to call them. After long preparations, I ended up with a dark red velvet dress with a square neckline and black heeled shoes. I quickly grabbed my bag that had my class materials and some corrected tests.

I went out to the entrance door where Coryo was waiting in a red suit and coat and in return he was holding mine which he quickly helped me into. Coryo immediately offered you his arm and carried your bag as you continued on your way to the car that would take us to the interview. Coryo who seemed to be the perfect gentleman opened the door for me and placed my bag in the trunk of the car. Unfortunately, my nausea got worse on the car ride and I was pretty sure I was green in the face. My husband's hand held my hand the whole time, and the third put small rings in it. Fortunately, we soon arrived in front of the studio where we were to give the interview. Coryo immediately got out and opened the door for you to simply get out. He offered me his hand again and together you walked to the studio waving to the crowd that had come to see the President and First Lady. I knew I couldn't show how miserable I felt, so I just smiled and waved. Fortunately, the interview went very quickly and all that was needed was for you and Cory to confirm that you will try your best in your new position and lead the Lord to a better tomorrow. After the interview, I said goodbye to Cory and started walking to the academy. Coryo offered to take me by car, but I insisted that I would rather walk. The second thing was that I thought the fresh air would help my nausea, which only got worse. I reached the academy within ten minutes and immediately entered my classroom. I had about five minutes before the students came in and your lesson started. Everything went well at the beginning of the lesson, the students answered my questions and everything went smoothly. But my nausea only got worse and I even got a headache. Suddenly my eyes went dark and my head was suddenly very light. Around you, you heard screams and commotion, someone was shaking my shoulder and talking to me. The darkness welcomed me into its arms and I lost consciousness.

Coryo pov:

I was just signing the cooperation agreement when the landline I had on my desk suddenly lit up. The number called was my wife's number. It was weird because she was supposed to be giving a lecture at the moment, but it was even more disturbing because I knew (Y/N) would never just interrupt her lecture. So I immediately picked up the receiver and a distraught young man's voice was heard on the other end. "P-Mr. President, Mrs. Professor has o-passed out and we don't know what m...ow." the distraught boy had to get a slap on the head. "What's wrong with my wife?" I shouted to the other side. There was silence for a while, but finally a mature female voice answered, "I'm sorry president, but the students here panicked, your wife passed out and was just taken to Frenill Hospital.",,Okay, thank you." he thanked the woman on the other end of the line and hung up. I immediately called my driver and rushed to headquarters. The whole time I was going to the hospital, I was wondering what happened, she has some kind of illness or someone poisoned her, my thoughts were running everywhere that I didn't even notice that we were already standing in front of the hospital. . I jumped out of the car and ran to the hospital reception hall. I ran to the counter but before I could open my mouth the nurse informed me that (Y/N) was in room 208. I went up to the second floor where I finally found her room and immediately burst inside. she lay conscious, but terribly pale, and had a drop in her hand. I went to her and stroked her hair.,,Hi, what happened." I asked her with a soft look. "I don't know, it got worse and worse and then I passed out, when I woke up, I was here. she whined.

Your view: Coryo was gently caressing me when suddenly the doctor came in. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Snow, I'm here to tell you the test results. Coryo grabbed your hand and put the tranquilizer rings on. The doctor suddenly laughed, “Don't worry, that's good news Mrs. Snow, you're pregnant, you're at the end of your third trimester, the baby should be born in six months, congratulations to you both. "said the doctor, leaving the room. I looked at Coriolanus and tried to decipher his opinion on the matter. I was happy myself, I always wanted my child. "Well, I think that empty room in the house will be used at last," he said and he smiled softly and reached his hand over my stomach and began to caress it gently. "I am the luckiest man in Panem."

OUR LITTLE SNOWFLAKE

I hope you like it if you have any request i am always open.

[dotthings]

Some highlights of the stream so far:

Lynda Carter shared behind the scenes secrets about the Wonder Woman magic bracelets and kid me and now me are fangirling a lot.

The fandom activists mentioned Nov 5 and a certain ep of spn as among the things that have inspired them

It was great seeing the spn cast there together with Kripke and they looked so happy to be there and enjoy hanging out together.

Jensen was smished between Kim on one side and Misha on the other on the couch.

The cast spoke so well about the importance of this election and their reasons for being so involved—Mark Sheppard especially seems very passionate and articulate about it

Misha messing up the camera and Kripke having to step in and be director was hilarious. Jensen sang a few lines of Eye of the Tiger

One of my favorite politicians was there—Senator Cory Booker. Who is a very good bean and cares a lot and he is a fan of SPN

LOL the fundraising game wants you to choose between earth heroes and space heroes and me being the multifannish mess I am HOW WOULD I CHOOSE? Both? I need both. I’m superheroes and spn and I’m also Star Wars and now just got back into Star Trek and YOU WANT ME TO CHOOSE????

[coryothesub]

Too Much

nsfw / mdni / sub!coryo / dom!reader

“This is too much, I can't…” Coryo exclaimed in a shaky, desperate voice. Tears running down his face, hair a complete mess, his shaky hand wrapped around his cock just before cumming hard and shooting his load all over your snow-white bedsheets.

His whole body was trembling through his orgasm as he sank down on the sheets, completely spent, broken and powerless.

You were watching him, sitting on the bed, resting your back against the pillows, your hand between your thighs lazily playing with your clit.

The sight of him falling apart for the second time in a row was incredibly arousing, and you were already moist, but not completely satisfied. You needed your release so badly therefore you had no choice but torture him some more.

“Coryo, c’mere!” you instructed.

Coryo raised his head and looked back at you, eyes glossy, you noticed that his lower lip was trembling.

“Mommy please, I can't do this anymore,” he whined.

“So you want to leave me wanting and dry?” you raised your eyebrow realizing it was time to switch on the manipulation mode. “Good boys never do that.”

“No, no, I just… It's too sensitive,” he got on his knees and crawled to the other side of the bed, settling himself between your legs. So sweet and vulnerable.

You brushed a sweaty curl off his glistening forehead, and gave him a soft kiss.

“It's okay baby, I will help you.”

You wrapped your hand around his flaccid cock and brushed your thumb over the bright pink tip. Coryo let out a sharp whimper and you noticed another tear breaking free from the corner of his eye. You leaned forward and kissed it away, salty liquid teasing your lips.

“Was it too much?” you asked, peppering Coryo’s cheeks with soft kisses. 

Coryo nodded.

“Mommy's pussy will feel so warm and good around you, we just need to get you ready, okay?” 

“I know you have another one in you. You're always such a good boy for me,” you hummed, pumping his cock slowly.

Coryo's icy blue eyes took in your facial expression as you looked at him with softness and affection. You felt his member growing big and hard in your hand.

“You're so good for me, angel, such a good boy, holding on so well.”

You kissed his neck harshly causing a whimper to escape his lips. You could see a pink blotch on the soft pale skin, knowing it would leave a purple mark later. You smirked to yourself. Everyone will see that he’s yours.

Coryo's head fell on your shoulder. You caressed his cheek gently and guided him further down. He peppered kisses along your collarbone, then wrapped his lips around your nipple and started sucking hungrily.

You settled yourself above his now hard cock and inserted the tip in your wet warmth, gasping sharply at the sensation. 

Coryo sucked your titties humming blissfully, he looked so happy and calm. You caressed his messy hair, establishing an easy pace sliding up and down his overstimulated dick.

You threw your head back and moaned into the air as your warm, wet pussy embraced his impressive length.

Coryo's breath sped up, you could feel it warm and impetuous against your nipples, hard and sensitive from his saliva mixed with the cool air.

He looked up at your face adoringly.

“Mommy, this feels so good. Your pussy feels so good around me.”

“You're doing great, angel. Look at you, barely holding on, but still letting me fuck my cunt on your gorgeous cock. Such a good babyboy.”

You showered him with praise and put your titty back in his mouth.

He was rocking his hips up softly, mindless and happy, enjoying your warm cunt clenching around him while sucking on your titties happily. It felt so good, the euphoric feeling of arousal took over his body again although a few moments ago he thought it to be impossible.

You were so tight around him, moaning and panting, finally nearing your own release. You wrapped your arms tightly around his fragile frame, sinking your face into his hair and breathing in his sweet rosy scent as you came hard around his cock.

“Oh, Coryo!” you moaned, eyes closed in pleasure.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum! Again…” Coryo whispered against your skin as he finally came inside you, filling you with long awaited warmth.

Still hugging him tightly you let him collapse on you, panting softly, his now soft dick still inside you. He was too exhausted to even pull it out.

He looked at you, eyes were full of tears, but his lips adorned a radiant smile.

“I did it, mommy!”

“You did good, babyboy. So good. Only you can make me feel like this.”