#Tricia writes

[ebongawk]

"Resting his throbbing hand against her neck, the other he gently tucked under her chin, guiding her gaze to his and letting his eyes rove over her face.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.  God, the way her expression suddenly crumbled made him want to go back to her house and beat the everliving fuck out of Jason Carver all over again...

“I’m just,” she breathed, her voice hitching.  Shaking her head, she brought her hands to rest on his chest, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a slow, deep breath.  “I just want to, um.  I just want to make it through today, Eddie.  I’m just… so tired.”"

every star in the sky (is taking aim) art by the absolutely amazing @itsdancingquen 🥹

[spicydirtymatcha]

“ 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴. ”

一 a story following my oc, carina, as she navigates her life while working to make it to the MLB.

♡ = contains smut ☆ = multimedia chapter

chapter one

happy birthday carina!

chapter two

it’s carrie’s first rockets game! she is very Excited

chapter three

baseball and life over the years

chapter four ♡

time to say goodbye

chapter five ☆

just some ladies doing #justgirlythings aka kicking ass and taking names over the years

chapter six

carrie finds out some shit, a phone call is made, words are said, and true colours are revealed

chapter seven

carrie’s first trimester is kind of shit, honestly. luckily for her her dads are there to make her feel better. still in 2017.

chapter eight

headcanon type chapter discussing carrie’s pregnancy!

chapter nine

it's a...

chapter ten

a bittersweet summer turns into fall and a baby is born.

chapter eleven

merry chrimis and happy new year! the holidays are usually a time for joy and happiness but carrie’s not feeling the greatest.

chapter twelve ☆

guess who’s back, back again. carrie’s back. parker told her friend.

chapter 13

more life, more baseball.

find it on ao3!

story thoughts

carrie’s social media circa 2023

future carrie x beck

present day carrie

present day beck

[sapphosclown]

Cynthia’s coming out scene was so heart wrenching, and so beautiful.

First and foremost, I love that it was done non-verbally. As a neurodivergent viewer who sees how neurodivergent Cynthia is, it made the scene that much more impactful. That she was feeling so many things and thinking so many things that all there was to do was shut down. I felt every emotion with her and Ari did an absolutely incredible job portraying those feelings. Not even to mention how Nancy did not assume Cynthia was ignoring her or being rude for a second and completely understood what Cynthia wanted to say.

When Nancy asks what’s wrong, Cynthia says she doesn’t want to talk about it. Nancy, being Nancy, keeps pushing, and starts asking more specific questions. When Nancy mentions Cynthia’s mom, that’s the moment she truly shuts down— which leads to a whole other concept— but easily establishes that Nancy and Cynthia have a trust that has been built that we the audience, haven’t seen.

Nancy tells Cynthia “You can tell me anything” and we can immediately see Cynthia’s thoughts, “not this.” as she shakes her head with so much pain and fear. She wants to trust Nancy so badly, but she’s not allowed to. Nancy assumes “You don’t want to talk about it” and Cynthia shakes her head, but Nancy knows this isn’t a no, she knows “You can’t talk about it.” Which hurts Cynthia even more because Nancy knows her so well but she’s so afraid of admitting to this part of her.

And then Nancy suggests writing instead of talking. Once again, from a neurodivergent standpoint, this was so important to me. But watching as Cynthia slides the paper to Nancy, but not loosening her grip in a desperate attempt to cherish these moments before her best friend turns on her and she loses the last thing she has. But Nancy reads it. The silence is long, the pencil scratching on the paper is taunting Cynthia. And Nancy slides it back. Cynthia doesn’t hesitate in reaching for it and with one glance, it finally all hits her.

The fear, the anger, the despair, the pain, the relief.

It’s so much to bear and suddenly, she doesn’t have to bear it alone. Because Someone accepts her. Someone has proved there is no circumstance in which Cynthia will ever go unloved by them. And in that moment, they are safe to feel it all.

[rotteneldritchhorror]

I've created too many overly detailed headcanons about Barry's life outside of Rafe

Like full family history-- he has a huge family but it's mostly dudes, his dad and brothers and uncles are all cunts and super bigoted, when he came out as bi they called him a sissy and shipped him to the military to "man the fuck up", the enviroment was so fucking toxically masculine- his mom was just trying her best, teaching him and his older sister (who he loves) to take care of themselves, teaching them spanish so she could speak to them in private, etc. Literally the only people in his family he still actively chooses to speak to out of care rather than obligation is his mom, his older sister, and a pair of aunts.

He doesnt have many close friends, but his best friend is a queer sex worker who he met on the job, likes to take care of her, gives her a place to stay when she needs it, gives her money when she asks for it, gives her her drugs for free when she needs to wind down. They talk shit, she's the only person he gets to sufficiantly ramble to about Rafe, she gives him advice- its very sweet. (Rafe is so violently jealous of this woman, he needs to be kept at a 15 foot distance and Barry has to explain 20 times over that theyve never slept together and that they're just friends and that shes ABSOLUTELY not a threat cause hes not even close to her type lol. Also the three of them trip together once and Rafe takes his first hallucinagen with this random lady and his boyfriend lol, but after it he finally accepts that shes not a threat)

He has like... a deep need to take care of people? Which mostly funnels into taking care of Rafe, but he'll take any oppurtunity to take care of people he thinks deserves it (mostly... women- this man has such a soft spot for women, especially older women, he'll do anything to help em out, take care of em, whatever they need- can you tell he was a mamas boy?)

When he was younger (like early 20s) he dated a woman in her 40s and tbh- mightve been one of his best relationships before Rafe. A little boring for him, but he keeps in contact with her to check in at times (don't tell Rafe.)

He keeps in contact with a couple of the guys he was stationed with in the military, but he's only really close with one, unsurprisingly a gay guy who *ahem* was a regular for him when they were stationed together, and he gives him free weed and shrooms for the shit being in the army left him with.

This man's tiny friend group is just radicalised queers and his sister lol

[every-viewaskew-board]

Every View Askew Board #16 - Tricia Jones (Mallrats)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

*gif 5 made by me!

[reverie-quotes]

There are different kinds of fathers. Those who love unconditionally, those who love on condition, and those who never love at all.

— Tricia Levenseller, Daughter of the Pirate King

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Marci's drabbles pt. 1

Harmful Healing

THIS IS MY FIRST BTHB FILL THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN

I also can never plan Anything in advance, even though I finished the shirt story, I'm writing a bunch more snippets with Marci and Wesley

Also!! this is probably gonna be my one and only story where an actual caretaker is present, so meet Tricia, the woman of my dreams

masterlist

TW: kidnapping, implied captivity, minor character death mention, drug addiction, discussion of addiction, drug abuse, carewhumper and ill-equipped caretaker, trans whumpee

He'd dragged her out of the car, not that she could protest much, up some stairs, through a heavy wooden door, into a house just as pristine and beautiful from the inside as it was from the outside.

The furniture looked old, like something one sees in their grandparents place, the walls eggshell white and the floor dark brown, hardwood. She'd missed the comfort of such places, ever since she'd left home this wasn't even remotely the standard of living she could afford.

And now you can't leave. It was just a passing thought that immediately disappeared, when the man walked around her, keeping a firm grip on her shoulder to finally face her.

"What am I gonna do with you now?" he asked, not her in particular, she had no idea.

"Do you have any uhm... do you-?" She tried her best to ask the question, but the words seemed to slip her mind when she was concentrating on actually saying them. She needed her fix and in her opinion that was all he had to do with her. She'd be okay once she could get high again.

"Jesus fucking Christ, man, I do not keep drugs in my house " he sighed heavily. "Fuck, okay, I'll try to get you something, because I'm not dealing with this" He let go of her and disappeared from her line of sight.

He most likely just walked away, but she was just so tired, and so lost in her head his movements stopped making sense.

She was vaguely aware he had made a phone call, he paced back and forth in the periphery of her vision. She stared ahead trying to take in the living room, entranced by the lights that filtered through the light curtains.

"Okay, sit down" The man came back into view and steered her towards the couch.

"I asked a friend to come over and bring you something to clear you up, and then I'll figure this out?"

"Okay" Marci nodded absently. She was already deep in thought about something else entirely. She started fidgeting with the hem of her blouse, as if she wanted to say something but didn't know how.

The man just waited, with an expectant look for a few moments, before he realised it was utterly pointless to wait for her to start. He shook his head and relaxed back into the couch right next to her and went on his phone.

At some point Marci's eyes focused again, just long enough that she remembered her own device somewhere deep in her pocket. Watching the little dust particles fly around had become boring anyway. Her movements were sluggish at best, but she managed to pull it out.

The success was short lived though, the man immediately snatched it out of her grip.

"What the fuck? What are you doing?" He held it just out of reach, above his head. Marci had no way of grabbing it, even though the man was the same height as her. She gave up and plopped back down on the cushions. "Stupid" he shook his head "I can't have you calling the cops on me"

"I-I wouldn't- I wouldn't. He'd be so angry with me" She muttered with resignation. She really wouldn't have caught him, or anyone. Maybe Cody... but there was something wrong with that idea. "I just, uhm, I wanted to see if Cody... if he-"

"Just stop talking, okay?" he interrupted and stood up from the couch. He massaged the bridge of his node just below where his glasses sat. "He's dead. And his name wasn't even Cody"

"It wasn't?" The first half of the sentence just flew over her head. She was piecing it together, admittedly it took a while, but she'd get there and process it. "It was short for codeine" It was barely a mumble.

"Use your brain a little, what drug dealer's actual name is Codeine?" Marci shrugged. There was no way she could answer that. She used to know things like that.

A car pulled up in the driveway, it was a distinct noise, the way the gravel crunched under the tires. The man disappeared from her sight again and went to open the front door.

"Thank God you were so close by" he didn't greet the guest, but practically dragged her inside the same way he had done to Marci. Though this woman was standing stable and clearly didn't need to be ushered in that way. "I swear, I would have changed my mind and got rid of her... which, honestly, might have been for the better"

"What the fuck, Wesley?" she snapped as she knelt down in front of Marci, to take a better look at her. Marci was mesmerised by her. Her skin was light brown, her lips thick, even as they were pressed together in a concerned frown, her nose round, adorned with two small hoop piercings in her left nostril. Her hair was braided back on her head in ten straight lines and was bleached practically white. There were little silver hoops added to her hair, they looked the same as her nose rings. Marci found that wonderful. She smiled at her.

"Come on, she saw I shot that asshole who dealt around the... whatever the fuck that restaurant is called" Wesley gestured widely, as if to point out the place's approximate direction.

"You shot Cody?" The woman stood up abruptly, Marci swayed back slightly in her seat.

"That idiot was stealing from me, what was I supposed to do?" Wesley raised his voice. He stepped closer, in an attempt to intimidate the woman, but it didn't work. Although she was shorter, it almost had the opposite effect.

"Gee, I don't know, cut him the fuck off?" She yelled back. They stared at each other for a moment, but it seemed they reached an impasse.

"Okay, whatever" Wesley ended up looking away, down at Marci "But now I still have to deal with her" he whined.

"Fuck" was all she replied and shook her head, before she crouched down in front of Marci.

"Hi! What's your name?" Her tone was much more gentle than the one she'd used before. She also noticed the woman was much younger than herself or the man she called Wesley.

"It's, uhm, Marci" she replied softly. The other woman nodded with an encouraging smile.

"I'm Tricia" She pointed at herself and then gestured to the man with a sigh. "And his name is Wesley. Do you know what you took?"

"I didn't- uhm I didn't use anything... That's kinda the, uhm, problem" she laughed nervously and crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively. She was still shivering horribly.

"Okay, that's okay, can you tell me what you usually take? And I'll see what I have" She suddenly turned her head back to Wesley "I'll charge you double, just so you know"

Marci opened her mouth then closed it, as the thought got stuck halfway between her mouth and brain.

"What do you use, doll?" Wesley finally reigned his expression, and forced a smile. Her eyes darted to his face again.

"H" she whispered meekly.

"Dude, you know I don't sell fucking heroin" Tricia was talking to Wesley again. Marci's breath hitched as the sudden shift in the other woman's tone startled her. "What were you thinking calling me of all people?" Tricia stopped him before he could answer with an open palm signaling to stop. "Don't answer that, actually"

"Marci, can you listen to me?" she snapped her fingers in front of her face. She rested her other hand on Marci's thigh, and the warmth from that spot was all she could suddenly think about. "Is there anything else you take that helps? I don't have any opioids on me"

"Why the fuck do you not have any?" The man interrupted again. Marci felt there was no way she'd ever get a word in edgewise in her state.

"I do not deal with that shit" Tricia snapped "You should fucking know how your supply gets distributed."

Wesley scoffed, as if offended, but didn't reply, he couldn't argue with that.

Marci stayed quiet. She lost the thread of conversation as soon as the other two started talking to each other.

"Marci?" Tricia tried to get her attention carefully. "Anything else I could give you?"

"I don't know, uhm, Cody gives me other things sometimes, new things, he says, uhm, the last one was uh, Icarus, I think he called it" she stammered. At least most of what she said was comprehensible.

"Okay, fuck, I might have that, actually" Tricia's hand was gone, and it left a cool spot on her thigh. She stared at it blankly, while the woman looked through her fanny pack.

"You know that's an opioid though, right?" Wesley asked with a derisive grin.

"No, it isn't" Tricia stopped her search and slapped her hands on her thighs. Marci, though startled by the noise tried to get a peek in her bag, just to see what she had.

"Oh, it so is" The man's smile turned smug "So, what's that about not dealing with that shit?"

"Fuck off, I can't do this right now" She found a small plastic bag, filled with a white-ish pills. "Here" she offered one and Marci took it without hesitation.

They all waited, anxiously for it to kick in, Marci pulled her legs up to her chest on the couch, much to Wesley's dismay, who didn't approve of shoes touching the expensive material the cushions were made with. She rocked back and forth slowly, while the other two stood aside, and continued arguing.

The scene was disrupted by an awful loud ringing noise, coming from Wesley's right pocket.

He reached inside and pulled out a phone. It took a moment for him to realise, it was the one he had taken from Marci.

There was no caller ID popping up on the screen, he tried silencing it, but it kept vibrating.

Tricia snatched it away, after watching him fumble with the device, getting irritated.

"It was an alarm" she sighed and turned it off.

"Do you have places to be, doll?" he turned back to Marci, who finally looked relaxed.

"No" she replied, a lot faster than before, but it still felt delayed "I need to take my meds" she stated.

"You just did, honey" Marci shook her head lazily. She stopped shivering entirely, it was truly fascinating to watch how quickly she was composing herself, only to fall apart immediately after the drug kicked in. A different kind of falling apart, but still.

"No, I need my girl-pills" She smiled, and almost laughed. Her words were slightly slurred, and her voice that was weak and anxious just mere seconds ago smoothed out.

"Your what?" Wesley asked incredulously.

"For my, huh, HRT" she giggled "Can you get me those kinds of meds, too?"

Tricia blinked, a couple of times to process what she just said, Wesley was quicker to reply, not that it was for anyone's benefit

"Believe it or not I don't sell actual medication to people" he rolled his eyes "I'm not a fucking pharmacist either"

"Oh, okay" Marci bit the inside of her cheeks, and thought deeply. The other two exchanged a concerned look. "Can you get some though?" She looked up again, with a newly formed hopeful smile.

"Fuck it, yeah, sure" he shook his head "If you know the type and dosage..."

Trope: Harmful Healing

Fandom: Original Work

Characters: Marci, Wesley, Tricia

Word Count: 1.9K

@badthingshappenbingo

[sincerelynoir]

sleepwalking

Chapter One Thread

Part One

A crenny fanfic

Rated: T

Ever since Craig Tucker was a child, he’s been plagued with distorted dreams, he could never quite fathom it. Honestly, it was like being dead. Or what he grew to imagine death was like.

Deep inky black encompassed him, arms holding him like the wings of angel wrapped tightly around his frame.

There were a lot of things he didn’t know how to articulate.

The feeling was always the same. Comfort and simultaneous dread.

***

“Did you want pickles or onions?” Tricia asks with her back turned to Craig. She’s got a container of mayonnaise tucked under her arm and pressed into her abdomen as she makes way to construct her and her brother's lunch. Craig’s got a veggie chip in the grip of his fingertips and rotates it a bit, examining his food.

“No.” Is his simple response.

“These are always stale.” He lets out a sigh as if the cardboard taste of veggie chips was long suffering. He knows he’s being hyperbolic. Tricia lets a sort of halfhearted hum in response, the sound of cabinets opening closed is almost comforting to Craig.

“But I can’t stop eating them.” He shoves the snack back into its bag and pushes himself out of the chair, standing. Deciding to finally cut himself off.

Craig’s voice has been somewhat nasally and apathetic sounding. But Tricia has grown accustomed to his tone, she was always a bit more animated. Craig is slightly lax and sluggish. A bit meaner, a bit more reserved. Sometimes people don’t know to read Craig, but she does.

“They’re a little bit better for you.” She retorts calmy. Craig shrugs his shoulders.

“At the cost of taste?” He pries as he grabs his keys off the holder. Attention focused on getting out the door. He’s to organize the books in the realm of quantum physics. Some entire asshole decided to clumsily put things back, the entire section was in disarray. Mrs. Lonelle , the elderly woman who respected Craig’s privacy and desire for peace had left a very professional email to him about the situation.

Bless her heart.

“They’re not that bad.” She hands him the wrapped sandwich. He shakes his head, though in retaliation.

“If you like salted cardboard.” He laughs out in a nasally huff.

Tricia flicks him the middle finger, not even bothering to look at him.

Life without their parents has been hard,

But at least they have each other, no matter how grievous and a pain in the ass they are to one another.

“Oh, and happy birthday, dude.”

Craig halts in his tracks, eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion.

“It’s my birthday?”

1/?

[deafeninggalaxycandy]

♡ okay so I'm trying to write south park stuff but I need topics to work with. prompts yk. if anybody has some let me know so I can work with it. I do nsfw and sfw pretty much anything. I just have writers block ♡

[sandwrites]

Tricia

The Perfumer watched over the trembling body of the Misbegotten warrior. 

Their chest shook with each breath. Death’s rattle, leading them back to the roots of the Erdtree.

At least. That was how it should have been. 

Stuck. That was how they all were. Stuck in a limbo they didn’t ask for, a limbo they never chose. 

Forced to die unwelcomed by the Erdtree’s grace. Cursed to seep back into the ground, souls left rotted and hapless in the wake of decay. 

The warrior croaked once, dark eyes staring glancing frantically up at the Perfumer. Holding tightly onto the the proffered hand that the Perfumer had held out as consolation. Pitiful, useless consolation. 

Its grip tightened. Painful, desperate, a last effort to cling to reality. 

And then, nothing.

Tricia slowly pulled her hand, as limp and as broken as it now felt, from the vise grip of the fallen Misbegotten, solemnly closing its eyes with her free hand. 

She had come to feel the pain of the Misbegotten. The understanding that they were doomed from birth. There was no light of grace guiding them, but it did shine in the shackles that grated against their ankles. It glistened in the eyes of those who herded them towards the mines, cracking their whips against their backs. 

It even glistened in her eyes. And the eyes of the Perfumers that failed to cure them.

Tricia had realised, you see. She had realised that the Misbegotten plight could not be cured. It was no curse, no malaise that could be waved away with the administration of a tincture in a vial. 

Something she had refused to accept, something that had lead to her expulsion from Leyndell to the volcanic wastes of Mt. Gelmir. 

Her role wasn’t to heal. It was to see them off. To smile and promise a cure 

People like the Omenkiller Rollo were nothing but mud to her, those who abandoned the path of healer in order to cleanse the impurities of anything untouched by Grace. 

She looked down at her hands. These were healing hands, these hands were meant to be curing the sick and stitching together wounds! Not being an unwilling witness to a death she had no power to stop.

By the time she had rose and wrapped her hand in some bandages, she’d made up her mind.

Not a single one. Not a single one of the Misbegotten under her watch would be allowed to suffer death. Not by battle or by the wicked idea of ‘mercy’ that her compatriots held. 

Some of the Misbegotten lay about, some cooking what meagre food they had in fire pits they had managed to pull together via wooden shields and formic rock.

Subconsciously, she felt the spark aromatics at her belt, unused since her journey west towards Mt. Gelmir. The road was harsh, but her pouches were full, most of the resources within being used for medicines. 

Violence.

The rare chance she had to kill had been shattering. She wasn’t built for war, none of the perfumers were. Many lost their minds to the atrocities they committed during the shattering, becoming Depraved. 

Others began to imbibe too heavily of their medicines, becoming just as broken as those who were affected by their weapons. 

If it was violence that it took to protect the Misbegotten, preserve the little sanctuary they had, deep under the ground, in a Catacomb that was avoided like Rot?

Then she would gladly choose it. 

Her personal Elysium, over the war-torn chaos beyond.

[ebongawk]

probably not gonna have the next chapter of every star in the sky up this week considering it keeps punching me in the throat and making me bleed but here's a snippet in hopes that that tides us all over:

“Eddie.” “Hmm?” “Do you bowl?” Rolling his head against the back of the couch to look at her, he quirked a curious brow.  The question sorta caught him off guard, so he clarified, “You mean, like?” as he rolled his elbow out like he was skipping a bowling ball down a lane.  She nodded, and Eddie blew out a raspberry.  “I mean.  I’ve been known to knock down a pin or two in my day.” It wasn’t actually a lie.  In fact, Wayne had taken him bowling all the fucking time when he was younger.  It was basically the only thing a young, petulant Eddie would participate in when he hit the terrible, awful age of twelve and started puberty-ing the fucking trailer down. Always hated the stupid shoes, though. Also, he hadn’t been in, like, five years, since Wayne got promoted and worked longer hours, and Eddie started spending more time on the weekends with his friends. In retrospect, he wished he’d asked Wayne to hang out more. “You think you’d, um, wanna go bowling with me?” she asked after a minute.  Looking down at her lap, then at him, then at her lap again as she started talking about a mile a minute.  “Like, when all this is over and your hand is healed up, of course.  But…  Not that I’m asking you to commit or anything, obviously, I just thought it might be, like, a fun thing to do?  Unless you didn’t like to.  Then, um.  Then maybe we could catch a movie o-or, um, get ice cream, or––” “Chrissy Cunningham,” Eddie interrupted, sitting up and invading her personal space with a wide grin.  “Are you asking me on a date?”

[spicydirtymatcha]

dbl extras || carrie

summary: thought i'd give you guys a rundown on how i imagined present-day carrie to be! help with imagining the story a bit. hope you love her as much as i do. reference pics or ““reference”” pics included

- full name: carina christina panganiban-st. james

- dob: august 26, 1998

- height: 5’8

- zodiac sign: virgo

- love language: words of affirmation

- skin tone through the winter, spring/fall, summer:

- miss girl is 10000% filipino! so jot that down

- she looks darker when she wears a white tee and she’s tan; she loves it (happens to me in the summer and it’s my fave thing)

- in tagalog “brown-skinned” is “moreno/a”

- her mom’s side would make comments when she was a kid about how dark she would get and the amount of comments grew when baseball became more serious

- her dads tried their best to shield her from the comments but they couldn’t protect her from everything :(

- anyways back to the fun stuff

- extroverted with introverted tendencies but since having penelope she has become more introverted but it tends to go away around friends and family

- hair colour: naturally dark brown but she does like to dye it

- feeling like this is the move for present day carrie

- ily jed 🫶🏼

- hair length: usually likes to keep it long, gave herself a buzz cut (with the help of her dads and pen) during the pandemic bc she was bored; now it’s grown out nice and long once again

- piercings? yes definitely

- left ear: double lobe, helix, flat, double forward helix

- right ear: double lobe, industrial, conch

- and maybe a cute lil septum piercing 😌

- don’t ask me how she could afford all this lol

- gets her nails done whenever she can, they’re cute or whateva

- loves cooking, loves being in the kitchen

- her dads however hate her in the kitchen bc she’s a mess, she doesn’t clean as she goes 💀

- definitely can sing, girl’s got pipes

- have tattoos? yeah, she’s got ideas

- even wears makeup on game days! i’m not talking a full face beat but she has her eyebrows done, eyeliner, and mascara on; keeps lipgloss in one of the pockets of her pants (they’re on a rotation)

- her teammates think she’s funny for keeping a sunscreen stick at the back of the dugout when she spends all nine innings with a mask on but they don’t know the harm of the UV rays! they don’t!

- fiercely loyal and protective of those she loves and her teammates; she will cut a bitch if needed

- wears glasses, cannot be bothered with contacts (20/20 vision is overrated anyway)

- build: thicccc thighs save lives and she’s got a cute butt she’s not afraid to admit that. i’m imagining rectangle/inverted triangle body shape, toned arms, girl is Strong™

- her kind of style:

- yeah she’s pretty cool :)

[valiantarcher]

Some assorted and random thoughts on Deny by Tricia Mingerink.

Jamie had me worried throughout the story. Once Leith trusted him, I figured he wouldn't intentionally betray Leith, but I was concerned he'd accidentally give something away or be used as leverage against Leith. Happy that didn't happen, though, and that he even got to rescue a few of the trainees! Less happy that he was set up so quickly with Brandi, but Leith seeing him looking stunned as she dragged him into things was kind of amusing considering that Leith also got stunned (in a slightly different way) by her.

The faking of Renna's and Brandi's deaths was pretty impressive.

Jolene with buckskins and a bow! :D I can see why Shadrach likes her - I mean, I'm sure she has a lot of good qualities, but she's also taking her role as heir seriously and protecting her people, which would speak so much to Shad. Give the girl a gun! I know it would kill the aesthetic and seriously undercut the Blades' coolness and intimidation factors, but she really should have had a rifle to complete the picture.

I'm sad that the girls didn't make it to the hideout, not just because they got kidnapped and dragged off to Respen (though I didn't see that coming) but also because it was such a great faked-death scheme and it was a shame for it to be rendered useless that quickly.

I knew the knife was going to cause problems! Didn't predict the exact scenario, but knew it was going to come back to bite them.

I have some better ideas of who the Leader might be and while it would solve one particular and major problem, I'm not keen on how that person got where they are if they're who I think they are.

The backstory connecting Leith to Abel (and Abel and Mara to Respen - I think I see where that's going and it doesn't seem to make enough sense to really fit) seemed really shoehorned in and doesn't fit with what we knew about Leith's mother/history from Dare.

I appreciated Leith being hesitant about the possibility of courting Renna; not sure why everyone else was so set on it - it's only been a month or two since he became a Christian and joined the Resistance and he's deep undercover, and they're both really young and been through a lot already. :P

In connection, it's kinda sad how short Leith lasts as First Blade. I mean, it's obviously good he didn't have to be put in such a strenuous and conflicting position for too long, but given how important that decision was at the end of Dare, it seemed a bit underwhelming that he made it maybe two months.

The bit where Leith is listening to the kitchen maid gush about the Blade and he's thinking that he's right there and she's not giving him a second look is great.

So, I figured someone was going to die (after all, you can't save everyone), thought Shadrach was a likely candidate, and mentally prepared, so was actually slightly let down that the ""First Blade's" "death" was so easily faked.

The execution scene was something else. The hymn (I assume an extant one?) based on Psalm 27 didn't follow the Psalm as closely as I expected, which really threw me during the scene (which I suppose is the flip-side of having that Psalm memorised). I think a closer setting of Psalm 27 (or even another Psalm) would've flowed a bit better personally. There was something jarring in Respen's proclamations and Renna starting to put pieces together in the scene. Not sure why, but he seemed to be trying to make a point that didn't really fit, and Renna's speculation at the moment also didn't seem to quite fit in, from what I recall. On the other hand, there was something fitting that Abel was the last to die if he wasn't the first (something about leading the way for his flock vs. bringing up the rear as a shepherd and making sure not one of them was lost in a way). I feel like I'm just talking all around this scene and not actually about the scene itself. It was very emotional and important and I'm still trying to get my head around it.

I am concerned about how quickly all the older male mentors are dying or are expected to die.

I felt so bad for Brandi being torn away from Renna, even if it was to save her. She already had lost all the rest of her family and thought she would at least get to die alongside Renna.

Speaking of, good on Leith for looking at the situation clearly and practically and coming to the best conclusion alongside Renna. I hadn't expected that the person that couldn't be saved was Renna, but getting her out of there with that leg would've been a challenge even if everything had gone smoothly.

I was kind of amused by Renna clarifying that she/Brandi only turned one Blade away from Respen because it's true from her perspective, but Respen is also correct that it's two because Jamie is also a Blade now and he absconded as well, so...

So, I knew Leith would be found out and Martyn wasn't going to let their friendship override loyalty, but I didn't expect that Martyn would give Leith the benefit of the doubt for so long and urge him to watch himself/get back-in-line. He really was trying to protect his friend while he could. :( Also, after reading Dare, I thought that this book was going to end with Leith being captured and Martyn being in charge of his torture. (Which I thought would then have set Martyn up nicely as the protagonist of 3.5. Which is not what is happening and the synopsis I've now seen for 3.5 doesn't sound like an improvement.)

At any rate, I came out of this book with a desire to reread it instead of moving on to the third one. That was more than three weeks ago and I have done neither yet. (I'm not blaming my August reading slump on Deny because there were a lot of factors, but it was very hard to pick up a new book after reading it and it did take a week-and-a-half for me to start something else and try to get unstuck on this.)

[sparkle-heart-anon]

Beg For Me

Summary: Riden and Alosa find themselves in a standoff as to who can be more stubborn. And of course, there is only one way to solve that

Fandom: Daughter of the Pirate King 

Pairing: Alosa x Riden

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Fluffy Smut and Swearing

His smug face.

God damn, his smug face.

Part of me wanted to punch him in that annoying, insufferable, smug face.

But another part of me wanted to kiss him – needed to kiss him. Needed him.

“Tell me, Lass,” the nickname rolled off his tongue. He stood from his chair, and in a single, long stride stood in front of me. Leaning down, his lips were inches from my ear, his voice low and gravely. “Tell me what you want me to do.” I could hear the smile on his face – that insufferably smug smile. “Beg for me, Lass.”

I swallowed hard, trying to regain my composure, trying not to feed into his ego any more than I already had. Silently, I prayed he couldn’t see the deep flush of my face, but I knew if I could feel it, he could see it.

His fingers danced on my hip, tentatively rubbing his fingers in circles right over my hip bone. “Do you want this, Lass?”

Biting my lip, my brain searched for an answer. Fuck, I wanted this But I also couldn’t stand to feed his ego any more.

“Alosa, have you forgotten how to use your siren voice?” He removed his face from my ear, so his deep brown eyes bored into mine. Gold flecks glittered along his iris, shining brightly with his fucking smug face. Good God, that face.

“I know how to use it just fine,” my voice was harsher than it intended. Trying to backtrack, I wanted to look desirable for him. I wanted to be in control. Wanted to make him squirm like he always made me. “But do you? I want to hear you beg, Riden.”

His eyebrows raised for a moment – but that Goddamn smirk did not drop.

“Really, Lass? You think you can make me scream? Do you want me on my knees? Because last time I found myself there, I think you were the one begging.”

Before I could say anything, he swiftly sank to his knees, staring up at me from those impossibly thick eyelashes. Gently, his fingers rested on my bare knee, the hem of my skirt resting just above it.

“If you’re going to be this insufferable,” I said to him, trying to keep my composure, trying not to admit just how fucking much I wanted this – I needed this, “at least put your mouth to good use.”

“Oh don’t worry, Lass.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee. Fuck. Slowly, his mouth inched up further, while his hand bunched up my skirt. “Be a good girl and hold this for me.” His lips were still pressed to the soft skin of my thighs, his voice rumbling through me and going straight to my aching center.

As he handed me the fabric of my skirt, he intertwined his fingers with mine. Pausing for a moment, he looked up at me, our eyes meeting. His smirk had dropped, his eyes looking at me with pure adoration. “I love you, Alosa. I don’t think I will ever stop loving you.”

I crouched down, capturing my lips with his. As insufferable as his smirks were, his kisses were sweeter than honey, delicate and gentle, as though he worried he would break me. And in a single kiss, I felt more endearing love than I had ever felt in my life before him.

With him, I could be soft. With him, moments could be tender. I no longer needed to spend every second of every day protecting myself.

With him, I could unravel.

We broke apart, the softness lingering in his voice. “Do you want me here? Or do we want to go to your bed?”

Oh right. I was supposed to be coming down to the empty brig to make sure we had enough supplies if we were to run into any unsavory characters as we searched for our next treasure. Riden had been tucked away in a corner, cleaning his swords, trying to get a moment of peace and quiet. And while we were currently secluded behind crates of food, there was no lock, and anyone could come down here, looking for either one of us.

Going back to my room would have been the smart choice. The safe choice. But honestly, I couldn’t wait another moment for Riden to touch me. And besides, no one was supposed to be coming down looking for me for a while.

So I had no choice but to beg. “Please, Riden, please touch me. I need you.”

“Your voice is so sweet, Lass.” His smirk returned, ever so pleased with himself. “It’s even sweeter when it’s begging for me.”

Handing me the rest of my skirts and petticoats, his fingers danced to my inner thigh before running over the crotch of my underwear.

“Green,” he whispered, his breath tickling my thighs. “My favorite color. Did you wear them just for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I laughed, but quickly found myself biting my lip as he ran his fingers over my sensitive nub. He moved his fingers in the repetitive circular motion, just the way I taught him, and I could feel a moan slip from my mouth.

“Really?” he asked. “Don’t flatter myself? Because you’re awfully wet for me, Lass. So I find myself quite flattered. In just a few minutes I can do this to you.” He moved his fingers through my folds, prompting me to let you a shaky breath.

He switched to a more serious voice. “Is this okay, though? Can I touch you?”

“Please,” my voice shook. “Please, Riden. I need you.” God, I wanted him so bad. And even though I said I wasn’t going to beg, I found myself back in this familiar position, begging for Riden. This, I thought, is why his ego is so damn big. But I couldn’t help but always find myself begging for him.

Slowly, he pushed one finger in, then another, curling them slightly. As he slowly pumped them in and out, he used his thumb to rub slow circles around my clit. Within moments, he found a perfect rhythm, and even better, that perfect spot.

A moan ripped from my lips, and I instantly brought my hand up to my mouth to quiet myself, dropping the fabric of my skirt.

I felt him pull away, prompting me to whimper from the loss. “Riden?” I looked down, and again that fucking smug face looked up at me.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said, standing up to meet me, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. “Don’t quiet yourself, Alosa. I want to hear you – hear your lovely siren cries.”

“Someone might hear us,” I worried. But without his hands on me, the desire I felt was mounting, starting not to care if someone heard me.

“Let them hear,” he whispered, before pressing his lips to my neck, lightly grasping my flesh with his teeth. “Let them hear how good I can make you feel, Alosa. Let them hear how much I can enchant my siren. My love.”

His fingers found their way back between my legs. Grasping the fabric of my underwear, he pushed it down, giving him full unfettered access. And he returned to that perfect rhythm. Each time I let out another cry, it seemed to encourage him even more, getting him to move faster, more precisely – as though I was a puzzle only he knew how to solve.

My moans got louder and louder in spite of myself, and I could feel that wonderful pressure building in the bottom of my stomach.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Riden,” I pleaded.

“I’m right here, my love.” He quickened his pace, the way his fingers curled around me, sending me over the edge. Wave of pleasure rushed and crashed over me, my moans falling from my lips like raindrops from the sky.

With him, I unravelled.

Completely and totally, I unravelled.

My fingers dug into his bicep as I came, my voice shivering, my mind going absolutely blank as my body filled with nothing but pleasure. Well, pleasure and love.

My legs shook, refusing to support me any longer. But Riden and I had found ourselves in moments like these before, and he knew me – knew every inch of me. And he knew that after I came, my legs often shook so hard I could hardly stand. His arm wrapped around my waist, supporting me, as I buried my face in the crook of his neck, smelling the strong scent of his cologne as I tried to catch my breath.

“Fuck,” I groaned when I finally could breathe. “Holy fuck, Riden. How do you make me feel so good?”

Although my face was still buried in his neck, I could hear the smug look return to his face. But there was still softness and tenderness to his words, to the way he held me, so close as though he was worried I would break away. “You make it easy, Lass. When you beg for me, I know exactly what you want. You have the most beautiful voice.”

He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head and just held me like that for a moment.

In moments like these, I felt so completely overwhelmed by the love that Riden showed me – that he had for me. Not only could he see me in soft, tender moments like this, but he actively sought them out. He was probably the only one in all the seas and on all the land that could bring out this side of me. And for him, I wanted to show it wholly.

He loved my voice – not as a tool for him to use and manipulate, but because through it, he could know if he was making me happy, if he was making me feel good. My voice was not something he could control, or even sought to. It was not something he wanted power from, or to use to hurt others. The wonderful noises he made me produce, he did so out of nothing but love for me.

And for that, I was able to unravel around him.

“I love you,” I whispered to him, before capturing his lips with mine, pulling him closer to me, if that was even possible.

“I love you more than you can ever know, Alosa.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Now why don’t we get you something to eat?”

“Oh crap,” I laughed. “I was supposed to be calculating our food stores for the brig. Mandy is going to be so mad at me for taking so long.”

“Let her be mad.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “We can just spend another moment together.”

In my heart, I knew. We would be spending many more moments together, just as tender and raw as this.

I loved him. Smug face and all.

[pricilla-omnia-et-nihil]

I f*cking love Tricia Levenseller

[angel-in-shibari]

almost done with chapter 4. expect it either tomorrow or Monday