#Winter Uncorked Reading Challenge

[shesamreads]

I did like this book much better this time around. The audiobook helped, I'm sure. It was well narrated, and had a lot of elements that I enjoyed. The open-ended way the story treats the monster ("monster"?) was interesting. I didn't hate it, maybe because I knew it was coming. Having more experience with horror, and King's horror in particular, probably helped, too. Also! Having a kid makes the mundane portion of this story much scarier! Your child is lost in the woods, or over a week. Holy shit. It's not the main focus of the story, obviously, but I hope I never had to go through what Trisha's parents went through.

Possibly still my least favorite King book, but I don't think I'm judging it unfairly anymore.

Trisha making up stories in her head, I feel that. Did I do that in High School?

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"How could anyone have such a cold and scary voice inside them?"

oops, it sounds like we both have anxiety.

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I really like that Anne is actually screaming for the parts where Trish screams.

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Castle Rock reference! I do enjoy how basically all of King's books have a refence to all his other books.

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Oh my god, the audio for this is PERFECT. When Anne did the announcer's voice over Trisha's Walkman, they added a radio effect to it. Perfection, chef's kiss. I love when audiobooks that do shit like this.

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"It was just so VC Andrews."

I can guarantee that I didn't get that reference in high school.

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"handsome yet evil shortstop"

some of the writing is spot on for a 9 year old.

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so this is what I needed the first time I read The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. Anne Heche reading the book to me.

also, this is the first mention of the 'creature' in the woods. Damn voices in our heads making EVERYTHING scary.

(I mean. there may also be something ACTUALLY in the woods. but voices in heads don't make that any easier, either.)

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It's a different kind of horror, to me now, when kids are involved. Things have changed, and all I can think about is "what would Teacup do if she was in this situation? What would I do if she was in this situation? I'd lose my mind. The main story is about Trisha and her experience in the woods, but I like that King gives us snippets of how her family is dealing with everything, too.

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Fucking tip call. Fucking hypnotist. I'm so heated that resources are getting pulled away from finding Trisha in the woods. I get that they're worried about a kidnapping, especially since the audience actually know what's going on.

As not-a-hiker, and a Midwesterner, is it terribly unusual that a girl could walk that far, from Maine to New Hampshire? Is there a reason why they didn't branch out farther to looks for Trisha?

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I'm still not convinced that Trisha isn't hallucinating. Like, a forest full of deer hanging in the woods sounds horrifying, it does! It also sounds like something a hungry, dehydrated girl with anxiety and an overactive imagination would see when losing a battle against the elements.

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I am not a Baseball Person. I did not grow up in a Baseball Family. I have only JUST NOW looked up a picture of Tom Gordon.

I can see why Trisha likes him. Apparently he was a good player. And was on both the Cubs and the White Sox, too. Neat!

Here's from the Wiki: "His popularity in Boston at this point led New England-based writer and Red Sox fan Stephen King to reference him as the object of infatuation for the young protagonist of the 1999 novel The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon."

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Over a week! Goddamn, Trisha. What a BAMF.

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So, either it's a bear and she's hallucinating, and it gets startled away. Or it's a monster using a bear as a vessel, and Trisha is no longer lost, so the God of the Lost no longer has dominion over her.

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"I closed."

"I know, honey. You did a good job."

I bet Trisha needed to hear that.

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Poor girl has been alone in the woods for over a week, I'd be pissed if my nurse was pushing my family out. My goodness.

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"Some days you eat the bear, and some days the bear eats you."

How dare you, Stephen. What an awful thing to quote at the end of this book . 🤣🤣🤣

I'm going back to reread The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. I originally read this in high school and HATED it. After talking about it last week, I thiught I'd give it another go.

The audiobook is read by Anne Heche. Her voice works really well for Trisha.

[galaxytastes]

Jumin’s Birthday

Hi! This is my first post and, rightfully so, it will be a “little” 10 page long “drabble”. It’s pretty self indulgent and non-romantic. I’m a sucker for angst and platonic affection, so buckle up, simps. Thank you so much for reading!

Words: 3033

TW: Alcohol, mention of death. 

CW: Spoilers for the secret endings/Saeyoung’s after end 

Jumin Han has always been a curious person when it came to commoner practices. Whether it be family traditions, silly superstitions, or childlike games; all of it intrigues the man like nothing else. Even as a child, despite his privileged and sheltered upbringing, Jumin still felt the temptation to explore the world of the common folk. And who better to experience the unknown than with his best friend? The two would often find themselves lost in their own world. A world without responsibility. A world without heirs, businessmen or conglomerates. A world where two boys could be just that; boys. 

But, life is not so simple. Summers and winters pass. With time came more responsibilities and adulthood pressures. Long felt the days of childhood; that which there was not much to begin with. Despite the challenges and tribulations life threw at the pair, one tradition remains unshaken by time. Birthdays.

Slender fingers wrap impatiently around his Rolex as Jumin checks the clock. He sighs in annoyance, noticing how quickly the day flew by. On most work days, the director can barely wait to get out the door. While he certainly didn’t dislike his office, he much preferred most anywhere else once the clock ticked past 6 pm. But today was different. Today was October 5th. 

The dark haired man pinches the skin between his eyes and only looks up from his desk upon hearing the familiar clicking of heels up his office hallway. Jaehee knocks gently at the door and peers in from around the corner. The woman has a concerned look in her warm eyes, but Jumin can’t begin to worry about what was the matter. 

“Yes, Assistant Kang. Have you come to bother me more about Saeyoung’s complaints over my lack of celebrations this evening?” Jumin speaks to his assistant, his voice icey cold. “I understand, Mr. Han. I… did come in here to talk about that, but not because of Saeyoung. It’s just… it’s 7 pm and you’re still here. It’s your birthday, and you say you have plans. I was wondering w-” “I’m well aware of what today is.” The director hisses as his hands clench together on the wood desk. He sucks in a quick breath and immediately backpedals, offering Jaehee an apologetic look. “Forgive me. I’ve been getting bothered about this day for… weeks now.” The director sighs and stands from the desk, making no move to hurry himself on gathering his things. 

“No need for apologies, sir. I completely understand. I’m sure you’ve heard enough pushing from the others.” Jaehee dismisses his coldness and grabs his jacket from the stand near the door. She meets him halfway across the room and gives his arm a comforting squeeze as she hands him the coat. 

“I think everyone just wants to share today with you since we truly care. So, if you change your mind, do let us know, please?” The brunette woman smiles sadly at her boss, earning her a weak smile from him in return. His heart warms a bit at her genuine words and he almost wishes to take her up on her offer. But, he made a promise to a friend for this evening. As always, Jumin Han is a man of his word. 

“I will. Thank you, Assistant Kang.”

The ride to the venue is quiet, and most of the time Jumin prefers it this way. His days are loud and chaotic, full of phone calls and stuffy conversations. His backseat oasis behind his trusty Driver Kim is normally a breath of fresh air. But, tonight, it feels suffocating. Both hands rake through his thick hair and he quietly wades in the painful silence. As if on cue, a voice perks up from the driver’s seat. “Mr. Han. I’ve prepared the supplies for your evening. I assume it will be to your liking?” Driver Kim meets Jumin’s unusually scrambled gaze, and the tightness in the director’s chest loosens just enough to allow him another deep breath. 

“I appreciate you, Driver Kim. I’m sure it looks beautiful.” Jumin nods gratefully to the older man. “Did you happen to retrieve the bottle I’d set aside for this evening?” 

“Of course. It’s wrapped in the basket along with some other things I thought would pair well with the wine. You have exquisite taste as always, Mr. Han.” The man’s eyes crinkle behind his glasses as he clicks his turn signal to pull to a stop. 

“Thank you again… Ah. We’re here already?” Jumin looks out the window, admiring the landscape lit beautifully by the setting sun. “Right on schedule. The sun will set the mood for a lovely birthday evening.” Driver Kim hums as he fishes something from his coat pocket. He turns in his chair and reaches to the backseat, holding a small box with a ribbon atop of it. “This one isn’t for you, young director. So, don’t go peeking until he gets to see it first.” Jumin chuckles and nods, gently taking the small box from the other man. The driver moves to let out his employer, but Jumin waves him dismissively. “We will not be too long. I’m not one to fuss over birthday celebrations.” The director smooths out his suit jacket and pant legs before opening up the car door. “I know, Mr. Han. Take all the time you need. Tell him I say hello, and happy belated birthday.” Driver Kim keeps his gaze on the horizon ahead of him, wetness stinging the old man’s eyes. Jumin actively ignores the sudden show of emotion and uses his free hand to shut the door. 

Tiny lights sparkle along the trail up through the finely landscaped hill, leading Jumin directly to his destination. Clammy hands hold onto the tiny gift tightly as he continues along the rocky trail. Once he reaches the top, he strays from the path to greet his friend. His chest storms with emotion and dark eyes widen as he counts each step. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. His breath sounds too loud in his ears, and he’s sure his heart is beating much too fast. Suddenly, he wishes to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but anywhere. But, Jumin Han is a man of his word. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Oxfords continue to pad across the grass and eventually come to a slow stop. “Ten.” Jumin breathes aloud. “Hello, old friend.”

Jumin’s mouth remains open as he goes to continue greeting the other before he takes a moment to take in his surroundings. A checkered blanket, red and white, is delicately laid out in the plush, green grass. A picnic basket brimming with all sorts of delicacies is centered on the blanket, along with another smaller basket, cushioning two crystal glasses. Candles flicker over petals of flowers, casting a glow to compete with the setting sun. “It’s like something from a film. This is…” Jumin lets out a breathless laugh as he eases himself onto the blanket. “This is beautiful.”

Jumin wastes no time in exploring the basket prepared for the two. The smile never leaves his lips as he pushes past fine cheeses, chocolates and a beautifully decorated cake. He lets out a little “ah-ha” upon finding the thing both men would enjoy more than anything. “Now, this is more like it, hm?” Jumin wriggles out the vintage bottle, holding it up for the both of them to admire. “Henschke, Hill of Grace, Shiraz. 1994, if I recall correctly? Australians know their reds.” With a skillful hand, Jumin uncorks the bottle and pours the red liquid into the fine crystal glasses. The aroma of the wine fills the evening air between them, and for a moment, Jumin feels lighter. The weight of the day melts away in the twilight’s embrace. Perhaps birthdays can just be birthdays. Jumin muses to himself as he wraps his fingers around the stem of the glass. He scoots slowly across the blanket to hand the drink to the other man. Perhaps it is alright for him to enjoy himself this way. The crystal is set down with great care onto the stone and Jumin uses the wrist of his jacket to smudge away any thumb prints he may have left. His vision blurs as he clinks the glasses together. The sound is familiar, but in a very different way now. Lonely.

The other glass is still. No hand reaches to join him in the toast. No voice returns his greeting. No smile returns his grin. Jumin’s black eyes blink and he swallows back the pain that threatens to lurch from his stomach. He raises his drink between himself and the headstone and tosses back the entire glassful. The wine burns his throat and he is grateful for the pain. 

“Happy belated birthday, V. And, as you would surely remind me. ‘Oh, it’s your birthday. Quit pretending it's not, Jumin.’” The man’s voice cracks a bit and he clears his throat. Please, keep it together. He wills himself to hold on as he continues. “I don’t care much for my birthday. But, I promised you I would make time for my birthday if it meant I could celebrate yours.” 

For the next few minutes, Jumin forces small talk with the stone. He talks of work. He talks of Elizabeth. He reaches desperately into the backs of his mind to talk about every nonsensical thing he could imagine, avoiding the things he wishes to scream out. 

“Ah. I should update you on how the RFA is doing.” Jumin leans back on his elbows, horizontal with his friend’s grave. He looks up at the stars, allowing himself to instead imagine V there next to him; laying on his side as he listens to Jumin in attentive silence. The thought warms his cheeks and his heart. “Assistant Kang has been especially… gentle since the incident. Even Zen has begun showing me a side to him I never expected. He’s… kind. Yoosung, on the other hand… He has matured in a way I was not expecting. He misses you…” Jumin clears his throat once more before he continues. “Saeyoung and Saeran are doing very well. Both of them speak of you often. The twins and MC live together, all under one roof, as you always wished for. You’d be so proud, V.” Jumin shakily inhales as his lips tremble around his fourth glass. The tears that well in his eyes finally spill over onto his pale cheeks as he finishes off another drink.

So many things are left unsaid. So many angry, sad and desperate questions of why and how. Jumin sets the glass down and sits up, pushing his hand against his mouth to muffle the sob that escapes him. He should be here, pulling the glass from me, telling me I’ve had enough. He should be here to slug my arm around his shoulder. He should be here. No one but him should be here. Why, V? Why did you leave? The silence is louder than ever as Jumin attempts to calm himself down with a deep breath, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his cheeks. While the pain still clings to every inch of the man’s body like a bed of nails, Jumin swallows it back to properly finish his evening. “I almost forgot. Driver Kim wishes for me to give you this belated birthday gift. On my birthday, of all days.” Jumin sniffles with a smile as he fishes out the small box to set down on the memorial stone. He carefully unwraps the brightly colored ribbon and wriggles open the box. “Here, I will open it for you. Driver Kim has excellent taste in gifts. Perhaps it is a matching cufflink to my own. They’re designer, you know. And-” Jumin’s voice catches in his throat as the top of the box pops open. Cushioned inside a bed of white tissue paper is a small photo frame; no bigger than the palm of his hand. In the frame stares back two boys wearing birthday hats in front of a cake. Happy birthday, J & J is written across the cake in cursive writing. Jumin bites the inside of his cheek as a final tear escapes from him. The boys look like complete strangers. Both so innocent; so unaware of what the future will hold for them. Young Jihyun’s eyes are crinkled in a smile and his toothy grin takes up nearly half his face. Young Jumin smiles just as wide, but his eyes are wide open and looking directly at his friend. Cheeks flushed red, black and teal hair a complete tangled mess. They were happy. “We’ve changed, but not much. I loved you then, and I love you now.” Jumin whispers to V as he carefully sets down the frame along with all the other flowers and trinkets left scattered around the grave. His hand traces across the name etched into the stone slab and he uses the other hand to finish the wine directly from the bottle. “‘Happy birthday, Jumin.’” The director whispers into the lips of the bottle as he drains the last drops. 

The car ride home is quiet. Driver Kim helps a drunken Jumin into the car, taking no time at all to clean up the picnic and wine glasses. The shared silence between the two men is comfortable and calm. No words are shared with the driver and the director. Driver Kim simply hands the man a handkerchief and drives him back to his penthouse. 

Jumin’s eyes sting from the tears and his legs stumble as he steps from the car. He quietly thanks his driver who helps him up to the penthouse and fumbles with the keypad to unlock the door. Jumin exhales into the quiet room, letting the darkness consume him. His hand comes to rest on the center of his chest, and he takes a moment to appreciate the lighter feeling in his torso. The pain is less like broken glass now, more like the remnants of a broken mirror. The sharp and painful pieces have been removed, leaving the frame of what once was. It’s obvious something shattered the mirror, and a few bits of glass are left behind. But, the danger of the pain has been cleared away. 

“Shhh. Don’t yell, you’ll scare him. He looks sleepy.” A voice whispers from the kitchen. “How about you shut up and say surprise like we practiced? We’ve been here for an hour now, my legs hurt from squatting.” Another deeper voice grumbles in reply. 

“Hm?” Jumin drunkenly stumbles further into his seemingly empty penthouse as his tired eyes scan the dark room. 

“Can everyone at least attempt to remain quiet?” Another softer voice sighs.

“Saeyoung, this was a stupid idea. Put his cat down.” A voice exclaims, accompanied by a smack and a familiar yelp. 

“Hey! That’s my job!” A woman giggles and another smack echoes through the penthouse.

“Well, now I feel left out.” A man’s voice speaks, adding on another, more intense smack sound. “GAH! Okay, okay. Princess, we’ll catch up later. Go see your daddy. He needs a birthday hug.” This voice, he recognizes immediately, and his eyes fly wide open as he reaches for the light switch. “Saeyoung?! What?!” Jumin shouts as he squints into the bright light. 

“Wah! SURPRISE!” “Hehe! Surprise, Jumin!” Saeyoung and MC screech, dressed to impress, both sporting white cat ears and paws. “Surprise, Jumin!!  Woo-hoo!” Yoosung pops up from behind the counter, tossing an armful of balloons into the air. 

“Jesus. Well, surprise, trust-fund-kid.” Zen leans from around the sofa, smiling sheepishly at the other man. “Sorry about all this.” The albino laughs and rubs the back of his neck. 

“I was dragged here without my consent. Do not blame me for the home invasion.” Vanderwood growls from next to MC, winning another giggle from the girl and her fiancé.

“Surprise, Jumin Han. I apologize for my brother breaking into your home.” Saeran smiles, shoving his twin away from the white cat as she scuttles to her owner’s side. “Though, I may have helped a little.” Jumin leans down to wrap Elizabeth in his arms as his mouth hangs open in shock. Each face looks back, expectantly and worried. 

“Is he okay?” Yoosung whines, slowly inching closer to Jumin as his eyes dart from person to person. “Is he having a heart attack?!” “Yes.” Saeyoung says confidently, his cat paws resting on his hips. MC nods with him, looking to Yoosung with mock concern. 

“No.” Saeran, Vanderwood and Jaehee reply in a harmony, sharing looks of annoyance. “I know you wanted to be alone after your evening with him but…” Jaehee stood from behind a chair, offering an apologetic smile. “No.” Jumin interrupts her, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Each member of the RFA continues to stare at the man as he wobbles and before anyone can say a word, the director sets his princess down and lurches forward.

With arms wide open, he embraces his friends. With no reservations, no walls of emotions, no tightly wound strings. He holds his friends and finally inhales a full breath of air as each friend wraps their arms back around him. 

Sure, he’s drunk. Very drunk. Sure, he will regret and deny everything tomorrow morning. But tonight, Jumin will laugh with his friends. He will laugh till he cries, indulge in birthday cake, glare as the redheaded twins crown him with matching cat ears. He will open silly and thoughtful gifts and read cheesy and stupid birthday cards. He will refuse to sing karaoke, but instead watch and clap along as Zen and Saeran have a battle of the bands moment. Jumin smiles and laughs to himself, feeling an unseen hand wrap around his shoulders. He closes his eyes and pictures V there, smiling along with him. “Thank you for allowing yourself to enjoy today,” he would probably whisper to his friend. “You deserve this.” Jumin allows himself to believe his friend’s memory. This is what he would have wanted. “Happy birthday, Jumin!!” The RFA cheers together as the song comes to an end, the room lit by smiles and camera flashes. 

And a happy birthday it was, indeed. 

[sirius-archive]

Dare or Dare (Prompt)

Pairing: James Potter x Reader, mentioned Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 2256

Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking, mentions of sex i guess?

Request: Could you do 13 and 15 of random with James or Sirius maybe? :) - Anonymous

Prompt: 13. “YOU SAID BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!” 15. “I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Maybe I should start.” 

A/N: First prompt finally finished!! please send in more! the list is pinned to my blog. Enjoy <3

***

It may have been cliche, but it was a common tradition for you and your friends to steal food from the kitchens, get drunk and play stupid muggle games late at night in the Gryffindor common room.

The fire crackled and popped, emitting shards of amber light that jarred with the dark shadows, creating a golden-warm atmosphere that encompassed you and your friends. You sat crossed-legged on the ground between Mary and Marlene Marlene while the boys - James, Sirius, Remus and Peter - sat opposite you, forming a circle that sort of resembled a seance. Littered in the centre of your ‘Friendship Circle’ (coined affectionately by James) was your plunder; a variety of puddings and treats and left-over sweets from a recent Hogsmeade trip.

Soon enough, two bottles of firewhiskey were brandished and passed around the group, and everyone was taking long sips from the bottle - everyone except for you.

“Boo,” Sirius jeered, “You’re boring.”

“Well excuse me if I don’t want liver failure,” you drawled, rolling your eyes, “Besides, six people sharing from the same bottle? That’s unsanitary.”

“What? You worried you’ll catch boy cooties,” Sirius teased, “Because last time I checked, you didn’t mind boy cooties when I saw you making out with Prongs in the broom closet last week. And trust me, none of that was exactly ‘sanitary’.”

You felt your face glow with embarrassment as laughter bubbled over the group. You glanced at James, at the little curl of his lips that wasn’t quite as mischievous as a smirk, but not as open and carefree as a smile. It was somewhere in between...like he wasn’t embarrassed of kissing you, of even being lumped in the same sentence as you. It made your heart swell, your cheeks no longer warm from embarrassment.

“Why don’t we stop harassing (Y/N) and Potter and get on with some games!” Marlene urged, gracefully saving you from Sirius.

“Yes!” Peter agreed, “I managed to find a load of fun muggle games in this book!”

He pulled out a book from his bag and brandished it before you friends.

“101 Party Games to Play at your Bachelorette Party,” Remus read aloud, frowning, “Some how, I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I do!” Mary said eagerly, leaning forward to get a good look at the book.

“Whats a Bachelorette Party?” asked Marlene, brows knitted in confusion.

“It’s a party where a bride and her bridal party celebrate her last night as a ‘single’ woman,” Mary explained excitedly, “My mums been to loads. She always comes back with weird penis shaped memorabilia.”

“Well, what’s the hold up, Wormtail?” James asked, grinning broadly, “Let’s crack it open!”

Peter dropped the book in the middle of the circle and sat back as Sirius opened the first page. A devilish grin spread slowly across his face as he read the index.

“This is brilliant!” Sirius laughed, flicking the page, “’Stick it in the Hole’ a game inspired by all those sex ed classes you pretended to listen to in High School. Two people are required, much like the real thing.”

“Muggles are insane…” Marlene decided.

“Dunk the Weenie in the Creampie,” Sirius continued, “The only time when it is encouraged to be bad at cooking. Simply tie a sausage to your waist with a short rope and try to dunk the sausage in the centre of a cream pie. Beware, this game is messy.”

“Yeah, I’m not playing that,” said Remus, disapprovingly, “I’m not sure what’s worse; having to embarrass myself by grinding on a cream pie in front of my friends or watching you lot do it.”

“Agreed,” said Peter, who was blushing furiously.

“What about this?” Sirius perked up, reading intently, “Bridal Truth or Dare. A sexy twist on a classic game. Players must reveal deep truths or suffer through scandalous dares. The more debauchery, the better!’”

“I’m down for a game of truth or dare,” Mary piped up excitedly.

“Same!” Marlene chimed.

“Me too!” said Peter.

“I have no shame and I don’t believe in regrets so I’ll play,” said James, winking at you.

“Oh what the hell,” Remus shrugged, sighing, “So long as the fire whiskey’s still flowing.”

“What do you take us for, amateurs?” Sirius gasped, his tone oozing with mock-offence.

Everyone turned to look at you. An unpleasant burning sensation prickled beneath your cheeks.

“Alright,” you sighed, grabbing a sugar quill, “I’ll play.”

Marlene and Mary giggled excitedly as Sirius dropped the book in his lap and skimmed the first page.

“Right,” he said, importantly, “If someone asks for truth, they have to answer or risk being forced to do a dare from the list of Extreme Dares.”

“I like the sound of that,” said James, craning to peer at the list.

“I don’t,” you muttered, glancing at Remus.

You knew beyond a doubt that you’d be asked about you and James’ complicated history by one of your friends and, if you refused to answer, would probably have to do something embarrassing with him like let him fondle your breasts or something stupid like that.

“Alright, so the eldest starts,” said Sirius and he grinned, “Which is me so suck it losers.”

Everyone groaned. Having Sirius start a game of Bridal Truth or Dare was going to be excruciating to say the least.

Sirius feigned a deep look of hurt, clutching his chest in pain, “I had no idea you guys thought so highly of me!”

“Hurry up, Padfoot,” Remus grumbled, taking a swing of fire whiskey, “Lets just rip it off like a band aid.”

Sirius’ lips spread into a wicked, calculating smirk. You knew that look all too well; it was the look of someone who was either barking mad or insanely clever forming a devious master plan.

Tapping his chin thoughtfully, he pretended to think for one attractive moment before narrowing his eyes on you.

“(Y/N), Bridal Truth or Dare? Quickly now, or we’ll all sober up and lose our nerve.”

You thought that was quite impossible for two reasons: one, everyone except you had had enough fire whiskey to drown their veins in alcohol and, two, Gryffindors never lost their nerve.

You sighed long sufferingly, “Alright, truth.”

“Bridal truth,” Sirius corrected and then furrowed his brows in thought. His eyes sparked again with a look of wild excitement, “Have you and Prongs ever reached third base?”

Marlene and Mary stifled their giggles. James shot you an apologetic look, grimacing at Sirius.

Something about the challenging look in Sirius’ eye rankled you, grating obnoxiously on your competitive streak. Usually, you were more rational, more ‘pick-your-battles-carefully’, but now, Sirius was closing in on your relationship-not-relationship with James, something you considered deeply personal. If Sirius wanted to play this game, then he’d better be prepared to lose.

“Padfoot,” James began, glancing at you, “I think that’s-“

“No,” you answered, defiantly, “James and I have not reached third base, and that’s only because we kept getting interrupted by you.”

There was a stunned sort of silence at the tone of your voice. Everyone was used to you denying your relationship-not-relationship with James, so your candor was like a splash of cold water in the middle of winter.

You broke the silence by snatching the bottle from Sirius’ grasp, “I’m too sober for this shit.”

“You don’t even drink,” said Marlene in shock.

You uncorked the bottle, “Maybe I should start.”

Tipping your head back, you took a long drag of the fire whiskey and winced as it seared the back of your throat. A moment later, a tickling warmth kindled in your stomach, and what felt like gold shot through your veins, filling you up.

Everyone was staring at you, shocked and speechless. You - Gryffindor prefect, one of the top performing students in the school, rule abider and teachers pet - were breaking a dozen school rules by drinking fire whiskey and admitting quite blatantly that you and James would have had sex if it weren’t for Sirius.

Their shocked expressions made you smirk.

“Are you lot going to keep staring at me or are we going to play?”

***

An hour into the game, and your brain was swimming in pools of intoxicated bliss. It was like peering through rose-tinted glasses - everything was hilariously funny, and your courage and impulsivity had been dialled up by about a hundred while your common sense had abandoned you.

Everyone had participated in an array of embarrassing truths and even more embarrassing dares. Peter had asked you what it was like to kiss Sirius (you and Sirius had a few…flings…in the past, before you had realised your feelings for James).

“Be honest now,” Sirius winked at you, “You don’t have to lie because ol’ Padfoot is here.”

James looked slightly amused, but there was a glint of something dark, something wild in the mosaic of his eyes.

You took your time, formulating a response.

“Eh, he’s alright” you shrugged, nonchalantly, “I’ve had better. A little overrated, if you ask me.”

That had been a mistake. Without warning, Sirius had launched into a wild tickle attack, scrambling toward you and poking his fingers between your ribs. Laughter erupted from your lips as you keeled backward, lying flat on your back as Sirius clambered on top of you.

“YOU SAID BE HONEST STOP TICKLING ME!” you shrieked, laughing hysterically, “SIRIUS! GEROFF”

James was the first to pull Sirius off you, smacking him around the head.

“Ouch!” Sirius yelped, but he smiled at James’ playful expression.

The hours ebbed away.

Soon, everyone was getting bored with Bridal truth or dare and instead decided to play Dare or Dare. You, Marlene and Mary had been dared to race each other stripping your bras off without taking your tops off. While you had done it a million times before, it had been significantly more difficult to do while drunk.

Remus had been dared to sneak into Filch’s office and leave him a love note and James and Sirius had been dared to kiss - which they did, passionately and unabashed.

“Alright,” James had smirked as he stared at you, “(Y/N). Dare or Dare?”

You pretended to consider your options, “Hmm…Dare!”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” James grinned, dodgy and lopsided, “Alright, I dare you to sprint past Dumbledore’s office, topless.”

You grinned, climbing to your feet, “I’ll do you one better.”

Slowly, while maintaining eye contact with James, you stripped into your underwear. James’ expression cycled rapidly between awe and arousal, and you couldn’t help noticing the way he squirmed, trying to casually cover his lap with a pillow.

Marlene let out a low whistle, startling you. You had forgotten about the others.

Grabbing your cloak, your friends all made your way to Dumbledore’s office, dodging out of Filch’s sight and weaving around Peeves, who was throwing furniture around in Filch’s office.

It was only after you watched Nearly Headless Nick sweep past Dumbledores office when you unclasped your robe and let it pool around your feet. Moonlight soaking into your skin, you stepped into the empty corridor and took a deep breath. The air was cool, prickling your skin with goosebumps. Your cheeks, however, felt hot and flushed from the alcohol and adrenaline.

“Go!” urged Sirius and, without hesitating, you ran.

Arms flailing in the air, you sprinted past Dumbledore’s office while your friends giggled madly. Once you reached the corridor, you turned around and raced back but came to a sudden halt when a figure stepped around the corner.

Severus Snape was standing at the end of the corridor, a look of shock and embarrassment creeping into his thin, pallid face.

You immediately took a step back. Severus had become your friend after meeting him in Diagon Alley before your first year at Hogwarts. You’d stopped associating with him after he had started associating with Death Eaters and you had noticed a definite change in his attitude toward muggleborns.

“(Y/N),” he said, softly, as he drank in the view of you, your skin glowing in the moonlight, “W-What-?”

James and Sirius stepped forward protectively and Remus draped your cloak around your shoulders, forcing you behind him.

“What do you want, Snivellus?” James spat, “Looking for another kitten to drown for Lord Stinkamort, are you?”

Severus’ expression contorted into a look of fury. He grabbed for his wand when you stepped forward, lacing your fingers with James’.

“He’s not worth it,” you whispered, and with another urgent tug, you pulled James away, Sirius following.

Perhaps because you were there, neither James nor Severus attacked one another as you retreated to the Gryffindor common room. James was grasping your hand tightly, still enraged by Severus’ presence, but that changed when you pulled him around a corner and kissed him deeply.

“What was that for?” James asked in surprise.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” you asked, playfully, “Oh, alright then…” you started to saunter off but James pulled you back into his arms and crashed his lips onto yours, stealing the breath from your lungs and the words from your tongue.

Panting as he pulled away, James looked around and spotted something to your left. You followed his gaze, where it landed on the Prefect Bathrooms.

“Fancy a dip?” he asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Definitely,” you smirked, tugging on his belt, “And this time, we won’t be interrupted.”

***

@siriusmuch  @beyoncesdragon​ @moon-zodiac @mflufflion​

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Blood Lotus and Arbors Blessing for Fane? 👀

Well, well, well, I see you chose one particular plant that lets me demonstrate the sheer amount of alcohol that Fane can consume and still not get drunk! Clever, clever! >:D

Blood Lotus - Is your character a lightweight when it comes to intoxicating substances? How did they come across this fact?

So to start, Fane is not a lightweight by any means and allow me to show you!

**

"Are we seriously doing this, Varric?", Fane asked, arms crossed as he sat at one of the tables in the tavern, watching as the dwarf meticulously set down bottle after bottle of different liquors. He recognized them, since each one was a brand they had stumbled upon out in the wilds during excursions.

Varric glanced up as he set the last bottle labeled 'Dragon Piss' down in front of him before stepping back, nodding with satisfaction and grinning like a fool. Fane didn't like that grin. That grin meant bad things. Baaad things.

"This is a test, Tempest!", Varric proclaimed, reaching forward to pull the cork of one of the bottles, giving it a precarious sniff before making a face that said, 'Oh, that's a strong one' before setting it back down, and grinning again.

Fane lifted a hand, slowly rubbing at his face before sighing. He should have known the dwarf's offer of a round of cards was a bad idea, but he had agreed. Why had he agreed? He should be in bed. He should be doing something other than drinking, but here he was.

"And tell me, what is this test trying to prove?", Fane asked, instantly regretting it as Varric let out a laugh, pulling the cork off another bottle and then another and then another. Oh, this was bad and so was the smell as he grimaced slightly at the one labeled 'Dragon Piss'. His kin's piss did not smell like that. Not at all.

"It's to test if that body of yours is just for taking hits, or if it can take a different type of hit.", Varric explained, finishing his mass uncorking of bottles to plop down into the chair directly across from him, smirking with a twinkle of mischief in amber eyes.

Fane raised an eyebrow, idly reaching out with a hand to grab a hold of a bottle, giving it a swirl, but never disconnecting eye contact with the set watching him. Another glint of deep brown within otherwise bright eyes told him exactly what he needed to know, and it also had him heaving a sigh. He should have known.

"You want to see how many bottles it takes to get me wasted.", he said matter of fact, nearly snorting when Varric's eyes widened a bit before they schooled themselves, cheeky grin still in place.

"Keen eye, Your Holiness.", Varric joked, but cleared his throat when Fane threw a truly venomous glare at it. "But, yeah! I overheard a certain conversation between you and our resident apostate, and it got me curious." That same cheeky grin seemed to grow at those words, making Fane let out another sigh. He and Solas really needed to stop having their talks in the rotunda. Sound carried, voices lingered.

Stone talked to stone.

"I'm guessing it was the one from the Winter Palace?", Fane asked, knowing that it was, but playing the fool. He already toed the line with his earlier observation, as insignificant as it was. He didn't need to pique Varric's curiosity more. "The one where I drank ten bottles of port, five bottles of brandy, and three shots of whiskey?"

Varric nodded. "That exact one!", he affirmed, pointing at him with a finger before leaning back in his chair, propping his boots up on the table. "According to how Chuckles worded it, you were drinking throughout the night, but every time I saw you, you looked as steady as a vessel.", he stated, leaning over a bit to grab his own pint, as if the whole thing happening was a riveting show.

Fane shrugged. "I took swings here and there. That place had my nerves all frayed, and why not take advantage of the free drinks?", he said. The masks had also had him on edge, but Varric didn't need to know that.

"Oh, I get that, but the amount...", Varric started, pointing with his tankard with a thoughtful expression. "...that's the kicker! And why I have to see a repeat!", he declared, taking a swig of his own ale.

Fane let out a tiny growl before just sighing once again. As much as he didn't want to entertain this, his head pounding from today's 'meetings' and Cullen and Cassandra's disapproval with one of his actions, he had to admit, a drink would be nice.

Really nice. He wouldn't get drunk anyways. Not from the meager line up before him, at any rate.

"Fine, dwarf.", Fane acquiesced to the test, sitting up straight to lean his elbows on the table, feeling a tiny, tiny smirk beginning to form as he saw the flash of surprise in amber. "I'll take your test and get the highest marks, too.", he said, raising the bottle in his hand and taking a generous swig with a single flinch. It was strong, it burned going down, but still piss weak.

Varric let out a barking laugh, slamming a hand down on the table and nearly upending all the bottles.

"Andraste's tits! I'm gonna mark this day on the calendar!", Varric roared, raising a hand in a sweeping pattern as if displaying something. "'Fane Lavellan learns to loosen up! All thanks to his friend and loyal ally, Varric Tethras!'".

Fane scoffed, rolling his eyes as he took another hearty swig. He looked down into the opening of the bottle, feeling his face go flat with boredom.

"I'm not going to be loosening up anytime soon with these drinks.", Fane grumbled before shrugging, taking another long, long swig, practically chugging it until he felt no more liquid enter his throat. "See?" He shook the bottle a bit, showing the now wide eyed dwarf it was empty. "Pathetic."

"Oh, we'll see about that once you down all twenty four!", Varric exclaimed, shock wearing off to be replaced with rapt excitement. "Fifty sovereigns says I have to drag your ass up the stairs to Chuckles by the end of the night."

Fane leaned back, taking another bottle with him and mimicking Varric's position. He felt his smirk widen at the challenge, the bet, and felt a warm sense of giddiness in his chest. Maybe the alcohol was stronger than he thought? Nah, couldn't be. Just the room.

"Make it a hundred and a sneak peak of your next chapter, and I'm in.", Fane raised the stakes as he took a generous sip of the next bottle, its front label reading 'Butterbile'. It certainly had an essence akin to bile; musty and...damp.

"You drive a hard bargain, Inquisitor, but I'll take that bet!", Varric agreed to his terms, grin now ear to ear as he took a swig in turn.

Maybe grins of sun when the being that bore them came from the Stone wasn't so bad after all as Fane took another chug, smirking and warm all the while.

(Fane won the bet. And he had to carry Varric up the stairs instead. XD)

***

Arbor Blessing :: What is the happiest ending you can think of for your character?

Fane's happiest ending would be that his kin were free, able to do what they did without fear of being leashed again and that he and Solas could finally rest. Somewhere quiet, disconnected, but still aware of everything they fought for. Maybe the forests, maybe on the road, learning and observing a world they hadn't seen in centuries. An ending where no one had to die. Perhaps scarred and tempered, but not dead, not gone. Fane built friendships with everyone, and while I haven't shown that very much in my writing, it's the truth. He's just like Solas in that he doesn't want to do what he has to do, but sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and push through.

I just see Fane and Solas with Yune (their adopted dragon) just...living. Actually living and not just walking through the world like it's a nightmare, an illusion, a mirror waiting to be broken.

Thank you for the ask, friend! X3

[ateitriestowrite]

Emily is the shade under a tree, she's the clinking of a porcelain cup lowered onto its plate. Emily is shadows in the night and muffled laughter, she's winter clothes, the pleasant chill of the lake water in the summer, the sound of footsteps on dead leaves. Emily is feet on the table, sleepless restless nights, the flapping of a hummingbird's wings, yellow daisies in tall vases, she is soft fur rugs and cold hands, knowing looks and good grades. She is the misty grey moment right before dawn, she's armchairs and colorful socks, she's bare feet on cold tiles and the smell of toast for breakfast. She is starry nights and even breaths, fantasy books, warm tears, a raised eyebrow, thick scarves, too many thoughts and dark memories best left alone. She's clean sheets, shivering with cold, concentrated frowns, the feeble rays of sun on a winter morning. Emily is smooth pebbles, the last day of school before the holidays, chocolate-chip cookies, orange juice, kept secrets, she's warm showers with bad singing, secret smiles, the patter of rain on the window pane, sitting by the fireplace with an old book, she's pressed flowers and cozy pijamas, startled screams and accidental naps, she is the smell of rain before a thunderstorm, hot chocolate and burnt tongues.

Pansy is cutting remarks, a lipstick stain on a napkin, tiny diamonds, she's the unforgiving sun on the hottest day of the summer. She's manicured nails and shrill laughter, disapproving looks and sharp smirks. She's brunch-time gossip and tight dresses, the sound of champagne being uncorked and the bubbles simmering in the glasses. Pansy is brushing tears away, fixing makeup and going out with head held high, sleeping masks and the sound of heels on marble stairs, she's the echo of a single voice in the drifty entrance hall of a manor. She is a fake taste for classical music, she is eyerolls, shiny counters and ornate mirrors, unlit cigars and parisian streets, silent family dinners, letters in fancy handwriting, dainty cats and red roses. Pansy is smiles and excuses for not doing her homework, tightly pressed lips, a heady scent of floral perfume, fashion magazines and detective stories. She is challenges, the deep purple of antique sofas, going a bit too far, a bit too fast. She is sarcastic pet names and iced-over ponds in the winter. She is big sunglasses, family secrets inherited like heirlooms, tarot cards and yellowing postals, burning glares and chilly silences. She is white butterflies and fluffy clouds, the feeling of doning on a winter coat just retrieved from an old trunk. She is venomous snakes, licking cream off your fingers, weaponized seduction, pearl necklaces and the smell of morning coffee. She is lace panties and no bra, sushi at a wedding, perfect eyeliner, will kill a man if provoked and her hands will only shake slightly afterwards, she is the feeling of sharing an invented secret language with your best friend. Pansy is the clear water of a lake in spring, she is a pretty pink book kept hidden in plain sight containing poison recipes, she is manipulation and creating one's own luck, she is protecting younger girls from assholes at parties, she is the unfortunate knowledge that comes from first-hand experiences, she is cute picnics on a hill and strawberries, she is sharing rape-escape techniques and sharp hexes with younger girls, she is spoilers and broken hearts, dangerous smiles and fierce friendship.

Draco is blue sweaters, red noses, perfectly brewed tea and the first snowfall of the winter. He is the smell of mint and sweets, he is lying on the floor and dramatic storytelling, icy stares and childish tantrums, new quills and unconditional love for parents. He is the woosh of an arrow piercing through the air, clawfoot bathtubs, snowy owls, silver rings and tailored suits. He is hunger for knowledge and perfection, big leather-bound books, hidden things at the bottom of suitcases. He is the feeling of being at the wedding of people you don't care about, he is the sound of footsteps on gravel driveways and coughs in the silent dormroom at night. He is waltz dancing and shiny shoes, top grades and the crippling need to please, he is raised chins and soft hair, unsure words and the need for reassurance. He is mixed signals and self-esteem issues, he is the sound of the frogs singing by the pond during summer evenings. Draco is string music and fog on windows, he is bubble baths and slippery floors. He is the texture of old oak furniture and clean feathers. He is the taste of chocolate, the taste of an ice cube, he is long trainrides and sidelong glances. Draco is christmas carols and premeditated decisions, he is petty arguments and dark circles under the eyes. He is the sea the day after a stormy night, relaying secrets and resting heads on laps.

Blaise is easy grins, slow strolls with light chatter, he is the smell of freshly-cut grass, he is washing ink from fingers, the texture of the foam floating on the sea waves. He is passing without studying and flirting without trying, he is searching eyes and understanding the unspoken. Blaise is the soft candlelight at night, careless beauty, practiced confidence. He is crimson red silk and the feeling of standing on the cusp of a mountain, of sitting on dry parched earth, he is the cutting winter wind, he is a vague fear of the dark, polished pianos, taking advantage of rumors. Blaise is secrets better left unknown, he is guarded heart and free laughs in the safety of the girls' dorm during sleepovers. He is layered sentences and poorly disguised distaste. He is interior-design magazines and bold choices, he is the feeling of watching fish swimming at the aquarium, hummed songs and Byron poems.

Daphne is scattered white flowers in the soft spring grass, she is pretty dresses, she is always knowing the latest gossip and lots of friends. She is multitasking and giving good advice, the soft smell of shampoo, cute hairstyles, big dogs, protective-older-sister spirit. She is softness mistaken for naivety, kindness mistaken for foolishness, embraced beauty mistaken for vanity. She is icecream and the refusal to feel ashamed for having good sex, she is ten ongoing conversations with ten different people about ten very different topics at the same time. She is summer holidays and family nights, she is a strange and unwarranted loneliness that creeps into the chest around midnight, she is the texture of flower petals, of new parchment, she is braiding friends' hair and talking about boys and keeping the conversation going. She is insecurities whispered only to the closest of friends while curled up in bed together, she is the sound of shouted guesses during charades, the sound of bare feet on wooden floors, dancing with her sister in their nightgowns. Daphne is bedtime stories and lullabies, romance novels and horror movies. She is soft cheek kisses, sun-freckled noses, loyalty, the feeling of waking up in a good mood. She is stargazing on a clear night. She is small details and fitting in effortlessly, she is laughing until your stomach hurts and crying at emotional scenes.

Millie is sturdy trees during a storm, the reliable sound of the clock ticking, she is hard-earned thick skin and learnt self-love. She is the sound of pebbles sinking into a calm lake, a curious lioness prowling around her domains. Millie is unapologetic truths and suffering no fools, she is peaceful autumn nights and warm breeze. She is listening with an open heart and saying harsh truths, she is adventure books and reading in bed, a good head on broad shoulders to cry upon, quiet laughter and hard-to-earn trust. Millie is solid arguments and paint-stained hands, shrewd looks and resilience. She is fresh snow and fulfilled bucket-lists. She is all the colors of autumn, white roses, drawing on fogged mirrors and the smell of freshly sharpened pencils.

Tracey is restless fingers and smudged glasses, she is rainy days and cuddling under a pile of blankets in the winter. She is deep green and bright blue, adhd, dog-eared books and spooning with her boyfriend. She is swirls in the water, soap bubbles, borrowed too-big sweaters and motivational quotes, ink-stained essays, anxiety, permanently cold feet and lip gloss. Tracey is watching condensation drops race each other on the car window, close circle of friends, whispered i love yous, forgetting to have breakfast, cult films, fried eggs and coffee. She is the sound of pacing on the carpet, soft drizzle, quiet huffs of laughter and a flock taking flight.

[junker-town]

Why Bo Nix could be the right QB at the right time for Malzahn

The five-star freshman has the skills to run a truly modern spread offense.

The Gus Malzahn era at Auburn has generally been defined by two features: transfer quarterbacks and a smashmouth run game from spread formations.

His 2010 offense, led by Florida/JUCO transfer Cam Newton, brought Auburn a title. His 2013 offense, featuring Georgia transfer Nick Marshall, nearly brought another. In 2017, Jarrett Stidham transferred from Baylor with a pocket passing skill set, with the offense eventually fizzling due to the lack of an effective run game.

Now in 2019, Auburn adds a five-star QB, rated the country’s No. 1 dual-threat in the 2019 class.

But this time, the new hope at QB isn’t a transfer.

That QB is Bo Nix, son of ‘90s Auburn QB Patrick Nix and his QB the last two years at Pinson Valley HS, where the elder Nix is head coach. The father-son tandem won back-to-back Alabama state championships immediately upon their arrival. Now Nix is enrolled for winter conditioning and spring football with a chance to start as a true freshman.

Auburn has had pretty good luck with players named Bo, but they’ll face an interesting opportunity as they determine whether to hand the keys to a freshman.

Nix profiles as a versatile spread QB.

He measured in at 6’2, 204 at a SPARQ combine and ran a 4.71 40 and 4.37 shuttle, jumped 32 inches in the vertical, and threw the power toss 36.5 feet. At the same age, the 6’1 Tua Tagovailoa had a 4.9 40, 4.3 shuttle, a 33.2-inch vertical, and a 38.5 power toss, just to name an athlete with pretty comparable measurables.

In high school, Nix tended to use his quicks for evading pressure and buying time to uncork deep throws. His team also mixed in some QB run game and combined both skills with the triple option:

That’s a zone read, with a bubble screen replacing the traditional pitch option. The nickel chases the bubble, the DE doesn’t contain Nix, and there’s no one in the alley to stop Nix from getting up to speed.

For all of Nix’s athleticism, the Pinson Valley offense was very much a pass-first spread that had Bo throwing for 3,795 yards on the year with 44 TDs, along with just 290 rushing yards but seven rushing scores.

Consequently, Nix’s path to a title in Alabama was wildly different from the Malzahn flavor of spread offense.

Nix faced one of his toughest challenges against cross-town rival Clay-Chalkville High, whom they faced in the regular season (winning 28-21) and in the semifinals (winning 28-20).

Clay-Chalkville had a handful of Division I prospects, most notably Alabama signee D.J. Dale, a 6’3, 323-pound blue chip DT. They often tried to entice Nix’s squad toward running into a five-man box led by Dale.

Clay-Chalkville is in a conservative defense here, with seven defensive backs sharing the field with their middle linebacker and three down linemen. By flooding the field with DBs, they could push the game back to the trenches, where Dale (No. 5, seen here destroying the play) could dominate.

Malzahn’s normal tactic for making the most of a 200-pound signal-caller who can run a 4.7 40 would be to mix in more option or QB run game. If you make the QB a runner, you can guarantee a plus-one advantage in the run game. If the opponent is playing an ultra-small and conservative defense like Clay-Chalkville is here, then you can almost get a plus-two, with as many as six blockers for only five defenders in the box.

But the Pinson Valley OL just wasn’t up for trying to grind out a win against Dale, and that would have wasted their greatest strength: Nix’s arm and a deep collection of skill athletes on the perimeter.

So after three and a half unsuccessful drives, head coach/papa Nix pushed QB/son Nix in the opposite direction:

They went empty-backfield and stayed there, almost exclusively. With five receivers spread across the field, they could move the focal points back to the perimeter and away from Dale.

Nix cycled through three main plays that aimed to isolate his star receivers, most notably the 5’7 junior slot Keyonteze Johnson, who caught 14 balls in this game for 208 yards and a score — after taking a huge shot back when Pinson Valley was trying to work the run and screen game.

From these five-wide sets, Pinson Valley could basically run isolations for Johnson, running get-open option routes against a dime safety while the other four receivers ran what amounted to clear-out routes:

Clay-Chalkville is playing match coverage underneath with two defenders over the top and rushing four. They can’t get much more help for coverage defenders unless they rush only three. Nix is getting the ball out quickly and has wheels of his own, so the pass rush is really up against it.

Pinson Valley also ran a ton of wheel routes, with the WRs crossing paths and creating rubs or picks on the underneath defenders and then Nix reading the deep safety to know whether to throw the wheel or the dig.

Whoever didn’t get safety help was basically getting isolated, and Nix was firing dimes to guys who could move around in multiple alignments. This is the logical end game of spread football, flooding the field with capable receivers and running the offense through an athletic, strong-armed passer who can deliver quickly. It’s essentially the Pat Mahomes offense.

Pinson Valley ran for only 85 yards, a fair chunk on the Nix scramble, while Clay-Chalkville ran for 203. But throwing to skill players in one-on-one matchups is a more efficient way to score, and despite completing only 24 of 51 passes for 324 yards (6.3 ypa), Nix threw four touchdowns to zero interceptions.

Now Auburn has a cutting-edge talent and a chance to embrace innovation.

Pinson Valley’s struggle against Clay-Chalkville was essentially every SEC team’s struggle against Alabama. How do you defeat a team that has the strongest guys in the trenches?

Auburn legacies Patrick and Bo Nix did it by moving the battle to the perimeter, where Clay-Chalkville’s strength in the trenches didn’t matter. Clay-Chalkville tried to anticipate that by going small, but the Nix family doubled down on the spread by turning to an empty set.

Unless Newton has any eligibility left, the obvious prescription for Auburn is to employ the same strategy as Pinson Valley (and similar to what Clemson did against Bama): get as many good skill players on the field as possible and set up Nix to make quick reads with his strong and precise arm.

Stidham pushed them further in that direction, becoming the first Auburn passer of the 21st century to throw for 3,000 yards. But Stidham still did most of his work throwing off the threat of their downhill run game, while Nix could operate a pass-first system.

Trying to out-muscle Nick Saban’s Tide in the trenches, even with a smashmouth spread run game, is usually a fool’s errand. While Nix offers some size and athleticism to boost Malzahn’s traditional spread-to-run offense, he could offer so much more executing a spread passing attack. This could also help an Auburn offensive line that has struggled trying to run over the deadly fronts they face in the SEC West.

Auburn has happened upon the right star talent to take them in a new direction at the right time.

[cielknight]

Inglorious

Inglorious on A03.

Lotus followed Professor McGonagall through the halls of Hogwarts. It was time for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. What a farce. She could not get out of it. Lotus figured out she could have gotten away with the minimum, but she had a plan that would put a wrench into Voldemort’s and Dumbledore’s plans.

Every year it was the same and it was finally getting to Lotus. She had wished she had never gone to Hogwarts. Why couldn’t Lotus have gone to Beauxbatons or Salem Witches Institute or Ilvermorny? Then again two were location based. Magic was great but the people were not. It would be better if she could be anyone, anyone at all, even a muggleborn. First year, well, after first year it never really stopped, did it? Lotus let the hat sort her into Slytherin and that was where everything went all wrong. Sure, the hat said she could be great, it is all here in her head, and it is. She beats Hermione at every score. But unlike Hermione she has no friends she can count on. 

Lotus is an outcast as is and certainly could not afford to make enemies being friends with muggleborns. It became a catch 22 for her. In the end, the Slytherins are semi-polite to her in front of the other houses but behind closed doors. The only comfort is that they would never maim her or kill but Lotus knew from her time with the Dursleys that a lot can be done to a person that is short of maiming and killing. It was semi-polite because she was still the Girl-Who-Lived and had political pull. Slytherins were clearly the easiest to deal with so long as you were willing to make an exchange. They still disliked Lotus, and she knew this from her time spent under the invisibility cloak it was the repeated rhetoric of their parents. It was over something she did not do. No one year old baby did accidental magic, ever! Lotus always wondered how did anyone really know what happened that night?

The problem was the other houses hated Lotus too, especially Gryffindor. They took it as a personal offense that she was not one of them. Adults were cruel and Lotus had learned not to trust them but kids, they could be just as cruel. They whispered that Lotus was the next Dark Lady simply because she was in Slytherin. Then there was the whole end of the year disaster with the Voldemort possessed Professor kidnapping her from her bed. Second year she ended up in school late with no supplies...she did not want to go into that. It happened again in third year. Did the Professors finally get a hint that her home life was a far cry from Albus fucking Dumbledore claimed it to be? Oh, how she hated that old Headmaster. Part of why Lotus had clung so tightly to life was because she wanted to piss on his grave one day.

“Good luck Ms. Potter.” Lotus entered the tent Professor McGonagall pointed too.

“Thanks,” Lotus said and entered the tent. She glanced at the pale faced champions. The champions glanced at her but ignored her.

"Well, now we're all here - time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bad" - he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them - "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er - varieties, you see. And I will have to tell you something else too...all, yes...your task is to collect the golden egg!"

And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking... Lotus felt disconnected from it all. It was different from the loneliness and from the feeling of simply being separate. She was separate, the freak of the Dursleys and unwanted child. She was the kid who Dudley kept everyone away from. There was a gap between her and her fellow Slytherins let alone the space between her and the rest of the school. The quiet settled in quickly and Bagman was opening the sack.

“Ladies first,” he said offering it to Fleur. She drew the Welsh Green. Then it was Krum and he drew the Chinese Fireball. Cedric drew the Swedish Short-Snout. Lotus pulled out the last one and it was a Hungarian Horntail. How droll. Bagman left them alone.

Lotus plopped down and closed her eyes. In another life she would have felt pity for Cedric because obviously he did not know the first tasks was dragons and the foreign champions did. Maybe in another life when others had been good and kind to her, and she had connections because you know, she was the Girl-Who-Lived and a beloved figure she would have helped out. But she didn’t have the connections, not yet. She was fourteen who hadn’t accomplished anything in the world. Lotus admitted privately for the first time that she was bitter about the world. She knew it was cruel, and she had hoped it would one day get better. But Lotus could see the writing on the wall. She was fourteen and not dumb as much as Dumbledore thought she didn’t read between the lines or pick up the information from their short conversations after her encounter with Voldemort at Hogwarts.

Cedric was called first. Her racing and bitter thoughts began to slow. She counted forth first of memories. Lotus used these racing thoughts to calm down. Then Fleur went next. She remembered being excited about Hogwarts and how quickly the magic went up in flames. The clock had struck midnight before everyone else. Magic was blood, sweat, and tears. There was nothing pleasant here among the snot and upturned noses. Krum went next. Peace settled in her heart. This would be her inglorious moment of history.

“Take that Albus fucking Dumbledore.” Saying it outloud somehow made Lotus feel better. She wanted to shout it out to the world. Maybe her letter to the Daily Prophet would be believed along with her medical history provided by one Goblin healer. Perhaps not. Maybe Britain and the wizarding world would never get its shit together. Lotus hoped it would.

Finally, it was her turn. She stood up as the whistle blew. Lotus uncorked the potion and swallowed it. She took three deep breaths and stepped out into the winter air. Hundreds of faces stared down at her and there was the Horntail. At the end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, she thrashed her spiked tail back and forth, leaving thick gouge marks on the hard ground.

Lotus stretched her arms first and then her legs to give the potion time to set in. It was a fast acting pain killer. Soon her whole body felt like she was a marshmallow. Lotus skipped towards the dragon humming. She was ready to meet her parents. Why couldn’t they have left a will? Why couldn’t they have picked a better godparent for her, one who wouldn’t have left her that night for revenge? Truthfully, Lotus wondered if her parents even loved her at this rate. Hope had been crushed from her heart when she learned her godfather had broken out of Azakaban not because Pettigrew was at school with her, just simply for Pettigrew. Her childhood had been torn to shreds caught between the magic hating Dursleys and a world that reviled her and loved her in turns. She was not the England Wizarding world’s savior. But today, today she would be her own.

“I wonder, Mum, Dad? Can you see me now? What do you think of this shithole called life? I really got the short end of the stick, didn’t it? Death by dragonfire. Quite inglorious, ain’t it?”

“What is she doing?” The murmurs and confusion quickly turned into shouts and demands. Lotus smiled when she got to close and the Horntail erupted breathing fire upon her body. It didn’t take long for Lotus’ body to becomes a crispy barbecue. The crowed became silent and still. Albus Dumbledore himself froze even as the scent of burnt flesh hit his nose. The Horntail roared out in challenge.

---

Daily Prophet

LOTUS POTTER COMMITS SUICIDE BY DRAGONFIRE!

By Rita Skeeter

---

The Quibbler

THE LETTER THE DAILY PROPHET WILL NOT PUBLISH, A TELL ALL BY LOTUS POTTER

By Xenophilius Lovegood

---

The Wizarding World News 

QUESTIONS REMAIN ABOUT LOTUS POTTER’S SUICIDE

By Adda Ravens

[trajectoryoflife]

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” ~Helen Keller

The holidays are officially upon us and, if that weren’t enough to keep us busy, we’ve decided to head west and call California home. The hubs accepted an offer at his dream company (woohoo!) and I’ll be transferring with my current company/role to our San Francisco office. And, although most days I feel overwhelmed by it all, it’s going to be an exciting new adventure for us. It is all a bit bittersweet though as we’ll miss Colorado, which I’ve called home for 12-plus years and the husband has for five, and all of our friends here. But, as the quote by the amazingly inspiring Helen Keller reminds us, life is an adventure — and we’re ready to jump in with both feet.

November highlights read one book completed all coursework for Foundations of Positive Psychology certificate began work on capstone for positive psychology certification stayed on plan for WW + met 35-pound weight loss goal completed(ish) no-buy November book club holiday party + said goodbye to book club members made the decision to move to CA + husband accepted new role fostered pup + found her forever home wrote + posted six blog posts hosted beer party survived first bad cold of the season completed NYT daily mini crossword every day skin club tried The Wolf’s Tailor + were underwhelmed indulged in lots of yummy wine + eats at Colorado Uncorked: A Tasting of the 2020 Governor’s Cup Winning Wines enjoyed Monet exhibit  explored History Colorado Museum + Beer Here! exhibit multiple dinners + celebrations + quality time with friends final Stem members event enjoyed Thanksgiving in Sedona continued weekly “three good things” practice + blog post prepared for listing our house completed two rides

December intentions + what I’m looking forward to complete Positive Psychology certificate complete Drawing as Self-Discovery read two books + Belle Grace (50 books for year) enjoy holiday activities (Blossoms of Light, Gaylord holiday) float final therapy appointment finish + send holiday cards Genius Wizard party going-away party + see friends before our big move chip away on move to-dos write + post four blog posts continue eating mindfully + on plan six workouts begin 2019 year in review + 2020 planning SoDak for Christmas with the family host family for visit list house for sale

open tabs Top Culinary Memoirs Demystifying the Writer’s Fear of Failure The Norweigan Secret to Enjoying a Long Winter How Solitude Feeds the Brain Challenge Catastrophic Thinking Ruth Bader Binsburg on the Possibility of Roe v Wade Being Overturned Hermann Hesse on Little Joys, Breaking the Trance of Busyness, and How to Live with Presence When I Am Among the Trees Why You Never See Your Friends Anymore Books I Like to Give Holiday Gift Guide Lydia Davis: Ten of My Recommendations for Good Writing Habits A Good Place: Rocketing The Oddities of the Past Into the Present A Brave and Startling Truth: Astrophysicist Janna Levin Reads Maya Angelou’s Stunning Humanist Poem That Flew to Space, Inspired by Carl Sagan

big change is a comin’ + November review and December dreams "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all." ~Helen Keller The holidays are officially upon us and, if that weren't enough to keep us busy, we've decided to head west and call California home.

[shesamreads]

This was a pretty quick read. I did not enjoy the inability to communicate, which is basically the entire book. Joe and Dave make it work for them, but I guess that's a no go for me. Jerry was amazing, and I loved every part he was in.

Why am I reading this as Sterek?

"I was smitten by his eyebrows."

Oh, that's why.

[mubal4]

“Don’t Blink”

That was a title of a song by Kenny Chesney.  Pretty good one too!  We’ve heard the saying before, “kids grow up so fast.” I believe most parents out there would agree with that.  I know it is cliché but it is true.  This week I have been out in Phoenix, AZ for business meetings but also to again, look at houses for our upcoming move.  Driving around our old neighborhoods, passing by places we use to go with the girls when they were small, and reminiscing about those earlier years, when Robin and I were new parents, gave me some great feelings.  At one point, I started to get a bit emotional because this journey, or mission, we’ve been on to move back to, “where it all started” is now real.  For me, it is amazingly special.  Phoenix, AZ has always had a very unique place in my heart.  It is where I met Robin, where Isabella & Alaina were born, and where “my family” started.  These past few days uncorked some amazing memories we shared back then and now I am so excited to create new ones as we return after 11 years. 

  Eleven years!!!!  That is when we moved to PA, when our youngest Alaina, was just 15-month-old.  Tomorrow, April 13th, she turns 12!!  No joke, she did grow up fast and it has been a blessing to experience it.  When Robin and I found out she was pregnant with our second child we decided not to find out the sex.  We did with Isabella but wanted to have a little bit of fun the 2nd time around.  Full transparency, the 1st time we were scared shitless (full transparency, I was not Robin) we (I) felt it might be best, for planning purposes, to find out.  In reality, I was having enough trouble taking care of myself how the hell was I going to figure out a baby.  In any event, throughout the 9 months waiting for our second child there were definitely moments, many, of me thinking about having a boy.  How great would it be to teach him to wrestle, play catch with him, and “do guy stuff” together!!!  There were other moments where I thought about having another girl and how I joked about God having a great sense of humor blessing us with a 2nd!!  Well, the day came and Alaina did surprise me (I made sure it wasn’t a boy 😉).  She was healthy, beautiful, and a blessing.  And yes, I laughed somewhat, with God, because he had His plan in place for me.  I am very fortunate to have these 2 amazing daughters in my life.  Both similar in ways and both very different in ways.  Alaina and I are very much alike, sometimes to a fault.  We can be think headed, stubborn, and defiant. We can also be very compassionate, caring, and loving.  Sometimes we clash but most often, we laugh, joke, play around, and love each other very much.  Alaina, can light up a room when she walks in and make everyone smile.  Her smile, laughter, and humor is contagious.  She can be challenging sometimes, especially when she is HANGRY, but 80% of the time she just makes you happy to be around her. 

  She is my baby girl.  Always will be and as I reflect on her turning 12, it is hard to believe that this little, sweet, smiling baby girl is close to becoming a teenager.  She helps me become a better father.  A better person.  We sometimes have deep conversations about what’s happening in her life, struggles, how she is battling past them.  There are other conversations about drama, school, boys, and her latest food cravings!!  She continues to light up my day, has a unique way of texting interesting emojis, and likes to say “like” a lot!!  She tries to get involved in many things.  Sports for example, gymnastics, soccer, swimming and diving.  She’s excelled at all of them and continues to do so.  She will have some choices to make very soon!  She got involved in her school performance of Shrek this past winter.  She isn’t opposed to reading a new book I recommend, trying a new recipe, or challenging herself to learn something different.  She gets out of her comfort zone. 

  Then there are other moments where she wants me to be a dad. To listen, to hear her, to understand her…….to hug her.  There are still nights where she wants to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie.  I know, soon, those days will be few and far between.  I know I must be better at being present with her, and Isabella, Robin too.  I believe Robin and I have done a good job being present for our girls the past 14 + years.  I think that has been important to their growth, progress, and journey through life.  I believe the next few years will be more critical as the begin teenage years, high school and then whatever may come after.  I had an entry earlier this week about my family makes it easy to be fulfilled right now.  That is so true.  When we are all together, that is when I have pure joy.  I feel completely full.  Yes, of course there are times we get on each other’s nerves and need a break.  We are human 😊. But, for a very high percentage of the time, when I have the three of them together, present, and in the moment, I am at peace.  Alaina has been an important part of that and has been one of three people that continue to shape me each day.

  Happy Birthday Alaina – Love Dad!!

[shesamreads]

I'M NOT CRYING AT WORK, YOU'RE CRYING AT WORK.

For real, though. Tears at work. The ending was great. It's what I expected, but so much more. What a book. It was difficult in a lot of ways. I'm interested to see what is the same and different in the movie. Is the ending the same? Will it have the same punch? How will they make it seem as big and scary and confusing?

Oof. As always, spoilery, rambling thoughts below the cut.

"She was the size of a loaf of bread."

What a wonderful, childlike description for a baby.

-

"None of what's going to happen is your fault."

No. Nope. I'm not ready.

-

"The four of us are here to prevent the apocalypse."

What a terrible thing to hear, especially as a gay couple who, I'm sure, are used to having weird religious shit thrown at them.

Jesus. Are they really trying to save the world? Are they crazy? Is it a cult? Is it actually the apocalypse? I can't decide what would be the best/worst option.

-

Fuck. It's not only "choose a sacrifice." It's "you choose a sacrifice and you kill them yourself."

Fuck. Or else everyone dies and you live (forever?) in an apocalypse hellscape?

If this is God or Gods, why give the message to someone who isn't one of the scarificees? It's just, "take our word for it," in a world that is already so broken to make anyone think that there is no God or Gods, or that they've abandoned us?

No. I wouldn't believe it either. You want a sacrifice, you do it yourself. It's bullshit.

-

"You have to believe us!"

Why? Why do we have to believe you? What, other than this insane, impossible choice, have you given us as proof? Coming here to say "hey, kill your family because we said so!" is shit proof.

-

So now it's "choose or we'll make you choose." That's not a choice.

-

I appreciate Sabrina trying to help Wen, even when Leonard doesn't want her to. This isn't Wen's decision. It shouldn't be. She's a child.

-

I can't believe in a God or Gods that would do this to a family. To any group of people. I just. It seems to go against what they'd actually want to happen. Is the whole point to turn non-believers into believers? What happens if/when they say no? The world ends, according to Leonard. The world dies and this particular family will suffer forever? That's cruel. Unfairly cruel. Unnecessarily cruel. We're just supposed to believe out of the fear of 'what if'? How is that any sort of food? reverence? whatever it is that They get out of it?

-

Hell yeah, Andrew! Pocket sand!

-

I know Andrew is reluctant to shoot any of them, and it's easy to say this from my positions. But I'd be shooting anyone and anything to keep my baby safe and get out of there. Especially now that Adrienne is running at him with a knife? Nah.

-

No, please tell me Wen didn't get shot.

-

At least it wasn't Andrew or Eric. I can't even imagine. They have to feel guilty, but at least neither of them pulled the trigger.

And, dammit, I bet they still have to choose someone to kill, don't they. What a cruel judgement. What a cruel deity.

-

"Leonard puts his faith in the soothing power of having no choice."

A coward's choice.

-

Another coward's choice, Leonard. This may not be your fault, the machinations of some higher power, or whatever. But Wen is dead at least partially because of you. Own it.

-

If they got promised something great after putting others through all this shit, I will be so pissed.

-

Are they supposed to be the Four Horseman?

-

"Trust the process."

The process of your daughter dying, GETTING SHOT, and still needing to sacrifice your husband? The process of being terrorized into killing family, for no tangible reason?

-

Whoa, when did we change from third person to first person? Has Sabrina's narration always been in first person? Or is she just babbling all this out?

-

"I don't believe in this kind of God. I tell you, Andrew, and Eric, and Leonard, I don't believe in this kind of Devil either. Or in this kind of Universe."

"I tell you, Andrew, and Eric, and Leonard. I don't believe any of this is right anymore."

This has to be hard, knowing that this is 'wrong.' That what you're being made to do, through fear and visions, is not what you think is right or fair, even if a 'higher power' says it's Right and True. But standing up and doing what you think is morally and ethically right to yourself. Even if 'the darkness' or God or the Devil makes your body do something outside of your control. You, Yourself, know what should be done.

I like this interlude with Sabrina, even if I'm worried about the outcome.

-

Wow. I thought Leonard would be the last one.

-

It hurts my heart that Eric and Andrew are so close and yet so far from each other. They're both so scared and hopeful and sad and tired, and there's so much between them.

It's so close to the end of the book and so close to the end of the world (maybe?) and I'm just so worried for everyone.

And that's the real horror of this story, I suppose. Besides being a parent and losing a child. Is it real? Is the world ending? Is it actually a bunch of coincidences?

And even if it doesn't end. It basically has, because how do you come back from this? How do you come back from losing your child in such a horrific manner? How do you branch the divide that's come between you and your husband?

Or if Eric does kill himself (will it stop the end of the world? Does he just believe it because of the brain damage?), you're now alone, mourning the two people you loved the most. If Eric does die, does sacrifice himself, was that what stopped the end of the world? or did he do it out of religious fear/obligation/brain damage, and it ultimately means nothing? Was he coerced into it because of some religious cult that got a few guesses right?

How do you know? How can you tell? If your world has ended and the rest of the world goes on, regardless of who was right and who was wrong. Does it matter?

-

"They expect us to believe that Wen's death isn't a good enough sacrifice for their God. So you know what? Fuck them, and their god. Fuck them all."

The world can burn.

-

"What if it's real?"

"Then it is. We're still not going to hurt each other."

-

That was the perfect ending. Even being open ended, even without that confirmation. The world is cruel, and it gets what it gets. They're together, and they'll continue to take everything on together.

It just hit me that I could have used this for last year's PopSugar, "a book with a quote from your favorite author on the cover or Amazon page." I do love Stephen King. As it is, I'm reading this for "A Book Becoming a TV Series or Movie in 2023." I'm also reading The Three Body Problem by Liu Cixin for the same prompt, though that one might not actually be out this year. I haven't seen a date, yet.

[shesamreads]

Oh gosh, I'm a sucker for Beauty and the Beast retellings! This one was amazing, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Personally, I could have done with a little less pining (it's a thing. I just want everyone to be happy and in love!) but it was definitely worth every minute.

This book is amazing. The story is great so far but I love all the details included most.

A trans character! We haven't meet her yet, but she's basically Claire's found family sister. And there's been mention of her transition! In fantasy! And it's such a casual mention! It's just part of life!

Claire is black, and she has natural hair! She was in cornrows initially, but she picked them out and now she's got her hair pulled back into a poof on her head (I think that was the wording used?).

It's great to see different representation in books, especially fantasy. In a world where literally anything is possible, where magic is real, that it's not just full of white cis straight people. It makes my queer heart happy.

-

'“Hello again, Claire,” he said, ignoring Beast at her side. “Hello again to you too, Kiernan,” she managed, wary.

Was he trying to snub Beast, or had it been a misstep?'

It's a snub. It's obviously a snub! Kick him out, and go back to falling in love!"

-

So, they're fated mates, right? Claire and Beast are acting and feeling this way because they have enough fae blood to be mates, right?

-

So much pining

-

That's foreshadowing. Maybe a clue from Tully. Claire's going to have to claim her love and her mate in front of Naja for Beast to be freed.

-

Oops I was right. Yay mates!

-

Ooo, another Sam! A much better name than "Beast." We're pretty rad.

-

Oh no, Raspian and Valis are adorable!

Eee! We're getting a Ras and Valis book, too! I don't care they were in one chapter, I love them.

-

I loved the end (they're married! and in love! and we see that from the outside!), and I love that Miranda gave us a lot of extra lore, too. I'm a sucker for lore.

We were asked yesterday, in one of my Romance groups, what we were reading for Valentine's Day:

I'm enjoying A Light in the Dark! The beginning was a touch slow for me, but now the main characters have met, and I already love their interactions. Claire is snarky and warm and wonderful. I can't wait to read more.

[shesamreads]

This was not bad. I didn't enjoy some of storylines, but overall, I enjoyed this book. I liked the interactions between the boys and Ari, and between themselves. (They are brothers, triplets, and there's no romantic or sexual interactions between them.) I enjoyed Ari's family interactions, too. I think Sam Hall nailed it there.

Rambly thoughts under the cut, as always.

I'm going to be honest, the guys on the cover art don't look as tall or broad as I expected, given their descriptions.

-

"I’m betting not a Macca’s cheeseburger, I thought darkly."

I went on a road trip with 2 Aussies years ago. I miss them terribly, and Macca's makes me think of them 💚

-

It's the barista. I forgot until Ariadne saw the three moons. The bartender gave the woman in the last book a drink, and she went to another world. One with three moons. The new barista in Ariadne's dad's cafe made her a drink, and she said how geat it was. Then she was through a portal to another world.

Is it the same person? I don't remember his name in the other book. Does he eventually get a happy ending, too? I hope so.

-

"My brain had finally thinked everything it could thunk."

-

This is the second book this year to reference Saint Christopher.

-

"As I pawed through the box, I found Roman era fibulae; those bronze brooches used to pin cloaks on with..."

I love when work collides with my real life. We sell fibulae! (And other weapons/historical clothing/etc.)

-

“My work here is done. We’re even now, Theo.”

Iiiiiinteresting. What do you know, Theo?

-

Is Ari's family from Atlantis? Or the alternate Greece? Is that why they've never gone to Greece, because it's so different than what they know?

-

Eww, Harry Potter reference.

(Nostalgia be damned, we give no kickbacks to terfs.)

-

I can't say I'm enjoying the Griff storyline. The book has completely changed tone. Up til this point we've spent the whole book telling us how hot and ready the 3 minotaurs are, and there's been basically no action, and BOOM.

Dad is a cock block (even though this is EXACTLY WHAT HE WANTED FOR ARI) and Ari is a mother to a psychic griffin. She had none of the baby making fun, and all of the responsibilities. This fills the rest of the trials, I guess.

Do they at least get to bone before the end of the book?

-

'“They will look nice,” I replied, “because everyone will be wearing what suits them and makes them happy. The photos will show a family.”'

I like this idea. I used this idea, actually. We had a color, ut everyonw got to choose what they wanted and felt comfortable in. And we all looked FABULOUS. Good choice, Ari.

I wonder what the boys will wear?

-

I'm not religious, I fell out of that a long time ago. Specifically, I wasn't Greek Orthodox, though I'm a little familiar. We had a friend who was, so I knew a little.

It's jarring for me to see Christianity pop up in my romance. Specifically monster romance. I get that religion is a big, beautiful thing in a lot of people's lives, and I'm happy they feel that way! It just wasn't and isn't for me, and that's hard to reconcile in pleasure reading.

-

After reading the end, and the afterward, it seems like Griff storyline wasn't originally intended and kinda took over. And I do feel like it reads that way. It was cute, for the most part, but completely took over and changed the direction of the story. I'm not opposed to pregnancy or children in my romance, but knowing beforehand is much appreciated. This felt like a last minute decision, with more detail than I personally found necessary.

And yes, FINALLY they all boned. Huzzah!

(the last time I have an Okay/3 star review to a book in this genre, the author posted a rant on their facebook about how 3 star reviews are Bad, and people should only give 4 or 5 star reviews. so I'm anxious over this one, I guess?)

Couldn't decide what to read next, so I did a coin toss. Grab the Bull by the Horns by Sam Hall won. I enjoyed Orc-ward Encounters, I hope this one is just as good!

[shesamreads]

What a wild ride! This was so well done, and the audiobook was great! There were so many twists, some that I saw and others that I had no idea were coming. 

While The One does get heavy, and it gives you a lot to think about, it was nice that the characters who deserved a happy/happier ending got them.

I'll definitely be checking out John Marrs' other books.

"He shouldn't be thinking about a second woman when he's still with the first."

Yeah, kinda skeevy, Christopher.

"...where he left her on the kitchen floor with the garrote still around her neck."

YEAH, SUPER SKEEVY CHRISTOPHER.

[shesamreads]

I knew about Great Vacation by Dirt Poor Robins before reading The Cabin at the End of the World. Ever since reading it, though, this book is all I can think of anytime it comes on. (double linking since the video doesn't appear to be embedding?)

It just hit me that I could have used this for last year's PopSugar, "a book with a quote from your favorite author on the cover or Amazon page." I do love Stephen King. As it is, I'm reading this for "A Book Becoming a TV Series or Movie in 2023." I'm also reading The Three Body Problem by Liu Cixin for the same prompt, though that one might not actually be out this year. I haven't seen a date, yet.