#as someone who worked at torrid (i feel like i can say that now since i no longer am)

[starlightswait]

i just really don’t think people who aren’t and have never been fat (even if they are otherwise body positive and well-meaning, which i do appreciate!) can quite conceptualize how fucking dehumanizing it feels to be a Separate Category at nearly every store there is, to know that so many stores just straight up won’t have ANYTHING in your size in person and if they do online it will be limited (and often some of the ugliest shit you’ve ever seen because surely fat people don’t care about style and just want to cover everything up, right? /sarc), that the stores that technically cater to straight sizes but have plus sizes as well often only go up to a 2XL-3XL which is nowhere as close to as inclusive as it needs to be. that even the stores are nominally FOR US still use much smaller sizes to promote all their clothing and still have many of these issues.

like. i just don’t know that there’s a way to adequately convey how dehumanizing and humiliating all of that feels. and if your fat friends get annoyed/seem overwhelmed going shopping with you that’s probably why btw, so, like, be patient with them, maybe. (this isn’t a vague at anyone i just know i have had experiences where i am Not My Best Self while shopping lmao.)

[bullet-prooflove]

StolenMoments!Series Part Two: Christmas in Afganistan - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging:  @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

Part One: First Date

You end up in Afghanistan over Christmas.

You’ve been embedded in the country for over a week now, using your contacts to track down a terrorist cell with ties to an attack back in LA. In the past you’d worked with humanitarian groups, delivering a very specific form of aid to villages in the region. You’d built a lot of trust amongst the natives; it gave you access to information that the military personnel you worked with couldn’t get their hands on.

You’ve been living in a makeshift base, created especially for the task force that you’re a part of. On the outside it looks rundown and ramshackle however inside it’s the equivalent of huge modern-day motorhome, with up-to-date tech, hot running water and internet speeds that rivalled the ones back home.

The place had been haphazardly decorated for the Christmas season before you got here, there’s tinsel around the whiteboards, fake candy canes hanging on the equipment lockers and a makeshift tree has been put together in the corner by a would-be carpenter. Someone’s managed to dig out some multicoloured lights, wrapping them around it. It’s magical in its own way.

You’re the only one staying over the holidays, Granger has sent the other members of the taskforce to Istanbul for some R&R. You’re the last one in, so you get to man the fort in their absence. You’ve been on your own for a couple of hours, reviewing the latest intel and making notes when the door opens and Sabatino steps inside.

You haven’t heard from him since the night he left for Washington. He looks a little more rugged than the last time you saw him. His jaw is lined with stubble, his face more weathered. His clothes are filthy, the remnants of the Afghan desert clinging to his hair and skin. The expression on handsome features tells you he’s just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

“I need a shower.” Is the first thing he says to you. You smile as you take a sip from your coffee cup because you detected just the hint of a blush across his cheeks when he stepped past you.

You have more coffee brewing when he steps out of the bathroom. He’s wearing a t-shirt and combat pants, his hair still damp from the hot water. He tosses his dirty clothes into the laundry hamper in his bunk room before he follows you into the kitchen space, opening the fridge and pulling out a variation of food.

“I’ve been living off the land for the past three weeks, tracking our targets through the mountains.” He explains as he opens a container and pops some veggies into his mouth. “If I have to eat another rodent, I think I’ll become one.”

You push the mug of hot coffee towards him, and he picks it up gratefully, his dark eyes fastening on yours as he takes a sip.

“When they said they were bringing in someone with local connections I had no idea it was you.”

There’s something in the way he says it, an undertone in his voice. You read the tension in his body, the way his shoulders hunch just a little as he averts his gaze focusing on the containers.

“You don’t want me here.” You realise.

He sighs before he places both his palms on the work surface and tilts his head up to look at you. There’s a torridness in his eyes, it builds like a storm before he finally allows himself to speak.

“The last guy who had your job, I found his body.” He pauses for a second, allowing you to process that information before he continues. “What I didn’t find was his head.”

 “He was tortured.” You conclude and Sabatino nods his response.

“I don’t want that to happen to someone that I…” He catches himself before the words can slip out of his mouth. “I don’t want the same thing happening to you.”

It’s an admission of something that the two of you can’t talk about. Realistically he’s known you for a total of seventy-two hours but in his heart, it feels like a lifetime. If something were to happen to you, if he found you brutalised the same way that Sanders was, he doesn’t think that he would be able to recover.

“Are the risks any different than you going out there and tracking them over the mountains?” You ask him pointedly.

He hates this and so do you, you’ve worked with each other in an urban setting before, where you have resources and back up, but Afghanistan is a different playing field. The thing is you’ve both been here before, you know the pitfalls, the dangers, the consequences. You’ve survived Afghanistan before and so has he.

“It looks like we’re both in the same predicament.” You say when he doesn’t respond, setting your coffee mug down. “Because I actually give a shit about you too.”

It shouldn’t warm his heart but it kind of does. He sees the honesty of it in your eyes as you look up at him. He lives in a world of deceit, where everything has a double meaning, where every move is a manipulation and then there’s you. This beautiful, spirited woman who says what’s on her mind and means it. He can’t help but fall in love with you just a little more in that moment.

“Hey.” He says quietly as he reaches for you. He wraps his arms around your body, drawing you close. You fit against him perfectly, the same way you did the last time, when he kissed you during that stakeout. “Despite the circumstances I am happy to see you.”

Your palms chase up the muscles of his back, soothing over the fabric of his shirt as his lips brush over your hairline. Christ he’s missed you, he’s forgotten how good it feels to have your hands on him.

“I’m glad to see you too Nik.”

Love Nik? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[suckitsurveys]

(this one somehow got combined with like 3 other surveys I did recently so I deleted a lot of questions from this one oops)

Do you like to cuddle with your S.O. or do you prefer your space? I like to cuddle with him, unless I’m hot.

What TV shows do you watch on a regular basis? SNL when it’s on.

What is the last thing you scribbled down on a Post-It note? Something for work.

Do you care if your produce is organic or not? No, not really.

Do you have any children? If so, how old were you when you had them? If not, do you think you ever will? No, I'm not having kids.

Do you get enough calcium? I don’t know.

Are you nosy? I am SO nosy please tell me all the gossip ever.

Are you happy with the size of your bedroom? Yeah.

Where was the last place you went that was totally new to you, as in, it was the first time you’d been there? New Orleans. On a lower scale: the restaurant we went to for my sister’s birthday.

When was the last time you used someone else’s computer? I don’t know. The computer I’m on right now is technically campus property but I’m the only one who uses it.

What’s the relationship status of the last person you talked to? He’s married.

Do you say sorry first? I say sorry for everything all the damn time.

What was the last thing you looked up on YouTube? A SNL sketch.

Did the last guy/girl you kissed have any piercings? No.

Do you actually love your parents? Of course I do.

What pattern do the sheets on your bed have? They’re white with a blue plaid pattern.

Where did you get the underwear you are wearing right now? Torrid.

Do you feel uncomfortable sharing drinks with other people? Depends on the people.

Have you gone through a lot emotionally, or has life been easy thus far? Definitely not as much as some people have but I’ve had my fair share of emotional trauma.

Do you spend more time outside or inside? Inside, since I work 8-9 hours a day.

Would you rather give up the computer or the TV? TV, I can watch stuff on the computer.

Last person to make you seriously mad? My brother in law.

Who have you recently made up with after fighting? Nobody.

What kind of toothpaste do you use? Crest.

What were you doing this morning at 1am? Sleeping.

Have you used a tissue today? Yeah, as a coaster for my iced coffee that sweats everywhere.

The last person that slept in your bed gets arrested, what do you do? We’d most likely be arrested together hahah.

When people ask “how are you?” do you say “good” even if you aren’t? Depends on the person who is asking.

How was your Friday? Last Friday was okay.

Did you speak to your father today? No. I’ll see him tomorrow though.

What was the last thing you drank? Water.

How did you wake up this morning? I opened my eyes?

Who was the last person you were in a car with? Mark.

Who was the last person you cried in front of? Mark.

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 8

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~24.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

-

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

------

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

------

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

------

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Mister April

A/N I had an angst-ridden update to the Metric Universe all queued up, and then I thought, nah.  The sun is shining, people are getting vaccinated.  Angst can wait.  So this little ficlet fits into the Metric Universe after The Second First Christmas, but before Calculation Theme.

The entire Metric Universe, now chronologically ordered, can be found here.

March 16, 2019, Spittalfields, London, England

“Wait.  You mean you’re actually Mister April?!”  Several bottles into the six-pack of Tennant’s lager that he had brought home after work, Claire’s exclamation was too incredulous for Jamie’s liking.

“Aye.  Every year since I signed on, save one.  At first t’was flattering, but now, weel...” He peeled the label from the bottle held between his knees, cursing the trajectory of their late night conversation.  The idea had been to take advantage of the fact they were both off tomorrow to spend some time with his girlfriend, listen to a little music, get a bit sloshed, then hopefully fall into bed together.

“Can I see?” Claire interrupted his momentary sulk.  “I mean, I’ve been dating a veritable calendar boy for almost two years, and I’m only just now figuring it out.  Seems a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“Seems to me ye’ve seen me wearing far less, Sassenach.  But fine, look yer fill.”

Grabbing his laptop, Jamie entered his name and London Fire Brigade Charity Calendar into a search engine.  A stream of results filled the screen.  Claire’s eyes goggled and she grabbed the computer, opening the first image.  A much younger Jamie appeared, rugby shorts hanging from the graceful arcs of his hipbones.  He reminded her of a Thoroughbred race horse, not an ounce of flesh to spare, kinetic energy in masculine form.  She checked the date: 2012, before they had ever met.

Further clicks brought her to subsequent years.  Each showed a beautiful man in the prime of youth, fit, cocky, a devil-may-care gleam in his cornflower eyes.  She knew it was her Jamie, but she barely recognized him.

He was missing from the 2015 calendar.  Claire did the math and realized that he would have been in the hospital when that year’s pictures were taken.  Instead of primping and smoldering for the camera, he had lain in an ICU bed for weeks, before undergoing painful rehabilitation and numerous skin grafts.  The brash young man of the earlier images had disappeared, erased by an industrial explosion in an instant.  In his place, the Jamie she knew had emerged. More cautious.  More prone to sadness, but with a limitless capacity to spread joy.  Would she had fallen for him, had they met before his transformation?  She honestly couldn’t say.

By 2016, the pictures had changed.  Jamie posed in a shirt, sometimes unbuttoned to the waist, but always with his shoulders covered.  The gleam in his eyes had dimmed, and instead of an infectious grin, his smile was forced.  She was certain no-one buying the calendar would notice.  He was still a beautiful man, with his burnished curls and Nordic bone structure.  But she could see what those photos cost him.  She knew.

“Dougal wanted me tae show my scars.  Figured t’would be good publicity, I reckon. Heroic firefighter burnt like a human candle comes back tae fight fire ano’er day. I told him I wasna some charity case he could trot out when it suited him.”

She fetched his hand from his lap, giving it an understanding squeeze.  Jamie had once confessed that he felt comfortable bearing his scars to her alone because she had already seen him at his worst, and that left no room for pity.  He was a proud, stubborn fool, and she loved him.

“You know what this means, don’t you?  There’s only one way to make this right.”

Not waiting for his response, she rose, sought her balance for a moment, and went to grab her phone.  Connecting it to their TV audio, she scrolled her music library, looking for a suitable choice.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, pressing play.  A synthetic tambourine and clap bass filled the room.  He recognized the opening lines of OutKast’s Way You Move.

“What are ye on about, Sassenach?”

“You’ve been sharing your glorious body with the Greater London area and god know who else on the Internet for years, Jamie.  As a philanthropist, I applaud you, but as your girlfriend, I’m a tad perturbed.  I am hereby re-asserting my rights to exclusive content.  Now stop lollygagging and get your fine ass off the couch.”

“Sassenach...” he laughed, starting to grab hold of her meaning and feeling a shot of adrenaline course through his veins.  Even before his accident, he had never...

“Don’t make me put it on repeat, Fraser.  Oh, look, here comes the chorus!”

Claire sat back on the sofa, her legs tidily crossed on their coffee table.  The room was dark, except for the undying city lights outside.  No-one was there to see except the one person he trusted to look without staring, to laugh without mocking, to understand without judging.  He’d never known Claire to ask for something she didn’t truly want, and he wanted to give her everything she desired.  Even if it came at the expense of his dignity.

“Ye ken I canna dance fer shite, right?” he said as he stood, taking an extra long pull on his lager.  He was going to need all the liquid courage it could offer.

“I’m well aware.  But as the woman who shares your bed, I can testify that there’s nothing the matter with your sense of rhythm.  If it helps, don’t think of it as dancing.  Think of it as upright simulated sex.”

His face was already hot from the alcohol and embarrassment, but with Claire’s words he felt the heat spread downwards across his chest and towards his groin.  Almost without willing it, his hips began to twitch in time to the beat.

“Now we’re talking!” Claire exclaimed with a grin, leaning back like the only patron at a very private strip club.

He was still dressed for work.  The navy shirt he wore beneath his jacket had no buttons, so he began by easing it from under his belt, baring his navel briefly before sliding it back down.  Claire sulked dramatically, making him laugh.  

With the song’s next horn flourish, he reached behind his neck and lifted the shirt clean off in a single tug, shaking out his hair afterwards.  When he next glanced at the couch, his girlfriend’s smug smile was gone, replaced by a blatant leer that sent shivers down his spine.  She wasn’t even pretending to look at his face anymore, spending her time somewhere between his shoulders and his waist.  He wasn’t really sweating, but he made a point of wiping his pecs before letting the shirt fall to the ground.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, already a tad breathless.

“Immensely.  Don’t stop now.”

Fortunately, his boots and socks had already been removed, so with the next verse he made a show of unbuttoning and unzipping his blue trousers.  Claire’s eyes followed the movement of his fingers like she was memorizing them for the exam.  He could feel his cock grow heavy.

With a shake of his ass for good measure, the pants hit the floor.  Only a tight pair of boxer-briefs stood in the way of utter nudity.  They were doing a poor job hiding his belated enthusiasm for Claire’s request.  The fact that her eyes were now glued to the bulge of his erection only encouraged his excitement.

As the repeated chorus faded away, he carefully slipped the waistband over his now-rigid cock.  The material slid down his legs and he stepped free.  If someone had mentioned his scars in that instant, he would have no idea what they were talking about.

In the ensuing quiet, Claire sat up and very deliberately began to disrobe.  Once naked, she came at him like a heat-seeking missile, one hand reaching around his back to pull him tight and the other dragging him into a kiss.  They collapsed to the floor, rolling around on the area rug in a fight for dominance.  He let her win, because feeling her rise and fall over his length like a cresting wave was the best runner-up prize he could imagine.  

The sex was torrid, and frantic, and not at all polite.  The kind that left bruises and invoked daydreams for days.  Afterwards, they lay in a sweaty heap, trying to catch their breath.

“See?  I knew you had it in you,” Claire muttered into his clavicle.  “A bit more practice and you’ll be as good as the pros.”

“I didna realize I was auditioning fer a second job.”  He brushed Claire’s curls away from where they were tickling his nose.

“Oh, I have no intention of sharing your talents, lad.   Never fear.  But I wouldn’t object to a repeat performance.   Besides, I was so distracted by the show, I completely forgot to film you!”

Jamie groaned, pulling her tighter against him as sleep called him away to dreams.

[his-mother-is-lightning]

We all know that Aziraphale hates customers. But I submit that he LOVES grad students.

- if asked (by Crowley, solely to fluster his Angel) he will say that it's completely reasonable to love people who want to study and discuss books? And that feeling he gets when they come and ask him for help isn't Pride no. It just so happens that having lived for millennia means he's the best primary source on the planet. It would be selfish to not share his knowledge really. Why shouldnt he feel good about helping young people learn? So it's really only lowercase 'pride' at most...

- ...I mean, it's just harmless satisfaction that he is spreading knowledge like God intended. Err, probably intended. This knowledge isnt that Forbidden Knowledge so it's fine, right? They're way past that at this point. Surely there is no objection to knowing about books?

- if you were to ask Crowley, he will point out that grad students can't afford to actually buy any books. But no one has ever asked him

- back when the shop first opened, poor Aziraphale was struggling with the realization that people might get suspicious if never lets anyone buy any of his books. And in walks in some poor, exhausted student from Kings or London University who has spent the last 10hrs looking in every bookstore and library around for an original copy of 'The Tamer Tamed'. So they stumble in, turn to Aziraphale and ask if he has any 17th century editions of Fletcher's work. They just need to look at it bc every copy they've found has been edited.

- does Aziraphale have a 17th century editions of Flecher's 'The Woman's Prize, or The Tamer Tamed'? What an absurd question! He has the first edition, printed in 1647. Two copies in fact, one with notes in the margins written by an early actor that Aziraphale particularly liked. It was, after all, one of Crowley's favorite plays from that period.

- (Crowley claims that he has nothing to do with the plays popularity when compared to the work it was in response to, 'The Taming of the Shrew'. Yes, he preferred the feminist-leaning work by Fletcher, but it's not his fault the audience agreed with him) [1]

- the look on this students face when Aziraphale sits them down at his desk and brings over this folio - full of relief and gratitude - have the angel feeling a bit chuffed. So much so that, as he's closing the shop for the day, he tells them to come back tomorrow if they need another look. And thus one of the great student pilgrimages of London is born

- at the beginning of each term, new students make their way to this strange, magical bookstore run by a nice, possibly-immortal man. Group visits are discouraged, as they seem to make the owner nervous.

- fellow students (and sometimes professors) warn newcomers that the owner doesn't actually want people to buy any books. But if go and tell him that you just want to look at them for a class, he will let you come and look around.

- actually, browsing isn't recommended: depending on his mood, Mr. Fell (the owner) may encourage you to look around or he may decide to suddenly close early, or find some way to get you out the door. It's always safest to ask Mr. Fell for something specific, the more obscure the better: he likes it when he has the exact thing you're looking for

- there are snakes in the shelves - well, one snake, probably. Just like Mr. Fell, this snake has been hiding in the shelves since the store opened and never ages. It loves to jump out and scare customer, but is generally considered harmless unless you damage or mistreat the books. There are numerous accounts of people being bitten for dog-earing pages, putting cups on books, and general rudeness.

note: do not refer to the snake as Mr. Fell's pet. He tends to get rather indignant if you do (Mr. Fell, not the snake. If anything, you would think the snake finds Mr. Fell's reaction amusing) Think of it as his slightly terrifying roommate who occasionally hides in the shelves or curls up by/on Mr. Fell to nap

- A. Z Fell & Co had the world's least comprehensible business hours. He could be closed for days or weeks at a time, then open 24hrs for a month without explanation. Often, he would open at 4 or 5AM then close around lunch, then open again after he finished lunch (anywhere between 1 and 4PM). There was one 11 year span when the shop was almost always closed - university's saw a drop in grades in several departments until it finally opened again. If he recognizes you, sometimes you will arrive to find the store closed, only for him to suddenly open the door and let you in because he was "just about to open up".

- Mr. Fell can easily be bribed when someone needs to stay after closing or come in early the next day. Down the block and across the street is a bakery: it has had many names over the years, but it has been supplying students with bribes in the form of cream puffs, eclairs, Turkish delights, and other sweet treats since the bookstore opened. Students scrambling before a deadline got 10 cents off their purchase.

- while he never seems to know what day it is, or what year it is (see: immortal), he always remembers when it's time for exams because suddenly the shop is open at all hours, and Mr. Fell "just so happens" to have trays of sandwiches and fruit leftover, and wouldn't they help him finish it? It'll spoil, after all. Outside food and drinks are never allowed but suddenly there are little plates and napkins on a table by the door, and stacks of strange coasters from all over the world. Coffee is not allowed but tea is. Of course, everyone knows that Mr. Fell makes the BEST hot cocoa and if you put a coaster next to you, he will bring you a mug of cocoa, always at the perfect temperature.

- as revisions comes to a close, you will find almost a dozen students at Fell & Co. They will be slumped at a desk or curled up on the floor by the windows, cups of cooling cocoa and plates of healthy snacks left in places where they couldn't spill onto the books. Colorful blankets come out of a back room as Mr. Fell tidies up, smiling fondly as he drapes them over the slumbering students

- there are stories of people whose old, cruddy laptops seem to work better in the bookshop. People listening to music (quietly, of course) may notice that the songs that come up on shuffle are always exactly what they wanted to hear. Notes you could have sworn you left at home or lost show up at the bottom of your bookbag. Documents you should have lost when your computer crashed can be recovered. One Martin Pryce insists that in 2014, he brought his broken bike to the store and when he came out again, it was fixed. He actually went up to Mr. Fell as he closed shop and asked him about it but Mr. Fell insisted he had nothing to do with it. Martin says Mr. Fell sounded like he was telling the truth, but looked very pleased and muttered something about it being a "minor miracle", which is a bit much for a bike.

- if there are a thousand stories about Mr. Fell and his bookshop, there are just as many about the man in the fancy black car who comes around sometimes. Many have speculated on the nature of the men's relationship, ranging from torrid love affairs to blackmail to Dickensian-level family drama. But the only thing you really need to know is that when you see that fancy black car parked by the shop, you best just to home. The store is most definitely closed.

1. One account survives of the audiences reactions to the two plays. 'Shrew' was performed first and was "liked". 'Tamed Tamed' was performed after and it was "very well liked". Whether or not this account is from Crawley is impossible to say.

Now with a a furiously doting Crowley sequel

Aaaand a fanfic 

[butmakeitgayblog]

Demon!AU Snippet

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After much deliberation and help from my merry band of short bottoms, here's the decidedly most PG rated snippet I could find, enjoy? Hopefully?

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"Oop, hot delivery girl, incoming," Raven whispered, a devious smile stretching over her face. 

"Wha-"

Clarke jumped slightly at the quiet thud beside her, eyes swinging around to take in the brilliant pink box now sitting squarely in the middle of her desk. Before she could react, a grey skirt covered hip slid just over the edge of her desk, nudging aside her nameplate and outgoing stack of mail to create an impromptu seat. 

"Morning, gorgeous."

She barely bit back a groan at the voice. 

Raven grinned, leaning forward on her elbows and looking up at the woman now perched on Clarke's desk. "Well, good morning to you too, Lexa."

Perfect. 

Clarke tried her hardest to stay focused on her annoyance at Lexa having such a brazen disregard for things such as personal spaces and belongings and the entirety of office etiquette, pushing down the thoughts of how well that satin burgundy shirt hugged every last one of her curves.

Cheeks pinking in failure, she compromised and settled on averting her eyes to the safety of her computer. 

"Oh, morning. Did you do something with your hair, Reyes?" Lexa questioned, reaching out right across Clarke's screen to gently tug on one of Raven's flowing locks. "Sexy. Looks good."

Sighing in resignation at the obviousness of Lexa's antics, Clarke stopped typing and flopped back silently in her chair, feeling that typical flare of anger. Because who did that? Who does this? Who just sits themselves down on top of a veritable stranger's desk and starts flirting with their coworker? Who practically shoves their ass in someone's face just to sweet talk and charm someone who is distinctly not the work area's owner?

"I did," Raven said, breaking through her silent tirade with pleased smile tinting her features. "Got it trimmed over the weekend and got an oil treatment. Thank you for noticing."

Feeling a pinch to her arm Clarke grunted a soft, "Ow," sucking in a breath as she rubbed the injured area and glared at her friend. "I'm sorry, okay? I told you I had a rough morning."

"Oh, no. What happened? Bad dreams?" Lexa frowned, tucking a wisp of blonde behind Clarke's ear before pulling back. "Or good dreams? 

Blue eyes flew up to the face obviously fighting a smile, an unreadable glint coloring the hooded gaze looking back.

Sucking in a breath at the insanely inappropriateness of that, at feeling somehow Lexa was currently seeing every flash of their torrid dreamtime coupling that was currently flying through her mind at that very moment. Clarke coughed out a quiet choking sound before clearing her throat with a shake of her head. "No," she stated, adjusting in her chair at the tick of a brunette brow and adding firmly, "and no... I'm fine."

Turning back to see her coworker smirking and glancing between them, Clarke narrowed her eyes and pointedly continued. "And I would've noticed eventually, Raven. It's been like five minutes since you sat down."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Lexa noticed at least," Raven flicked her wrist in dismal. "Who needs you?"

"Rave-"

"Ignore her, Clarke," she heard as slim fingers slowly turned her head forward and up, finding a heated grin zeroed in on her. "I need you."

The altogether too intimate touch and tone was gone before she could even begin to process it as Lexa casually moved to open the box beside her, flipping the top and continuing as though nothing had happened. 

"Anyway, I had a craving this morning and couldn't stop myself, but I definitely went a little overboard. Figured I'd share." 

Breathable oxygen still very much an issue after the gentle handling and warm words, Clarke dazedly looked down to see a small array of sweets. 

"Oh my God," Raven moaned, pitching forward over the span of their desks to look through the variety of cupcakes with eagle-eyed precision. "Have I ever mentioned I love you, Lexa?"

"Buttercream can have that effect on people," Lexa hummed, leaning a palm down to support her weight as she practically lazed back across Clarke's desk. "Help yourself. Just leave the-"

"I know, I know," Raven rolled her eyes, fingers already lifting a chocolate and caramel monstrosity out of the box and bringing it to her mouth. 

Snapping out of her reverie, Clarke drew in a quick breath and tsked at her deskmate as she sat back down. "It's like eight in the morning, Raven."

"So?" she muffled through a face full of cupcake.

"Technically, it's 8… 22," Lexa unhelpfully supplied, checking and then double checking the gleaming white gold watch sat neatly on her wrist. Clarke watched a slim finger drag through the chocolate of one of the cupcakes in a slow swoop. "Everyone knows you're allowed to sin after 8am."

"That makes no sense whatsoever," Clarke frowned, her focus now centered entirely on the woman draped over her work area. 

"Trust me, Clarke," Lexa assured in a whisper while bringing the frosting covered fingertip to her mouth. Full red lips wrapped around the sugary digit before sliding it back out clean. "I'm an expert."

With that Lexa hopped up, legs swinging out in a graceful swoop as she lifted herself back onto the ground and hands slid over her chest in a show of straightening out the delicate fabrics of her clothes. Clarke valiantly tried not to watch how the slick material bunched and tugged in all the right places, a small inner voice chastising herself when the only coherent thoughts were of the fit and cut of her outfit. 

It was annoying how everything seemed to fit like it was made for no other body than Lexa's own.  

"Raven, I have a meeting at 11 that I need you to push back to 3," Lexa said as she finished her preening and collected her confectionery haul. "Charles wants to go over the contracts for a new client so I'll probably be busy dealing with kissing his ass until lunch." 

"You got it, boss lady," Raven nodded, immediately turning to her computer at the instruction. "Not that I believe for a second you kiss anyone's ass around here."

"Oh, there's one or two," Lexa hummed, actually having the nerve to openly let her eyes trail over to Clarke for a moment, throwing in a final wink before sauntering away and leaving Clarke to her ruddy cheeked stupor. 

Traitorously her eyes followed after, watching the hitch and sway of rounded hips and long legs as they glided through the office in high, pristine heels. Strong yet slim shoulders flexed with the confident swing of toned arms as she walked like she owned everyone within sight. The dip of her back looked so good wrapped in the smooth material of her blouse, its color and texture seeming almost liquid in the sunlight that slanted through the tall office windows; its smooth deep color spilling over the curve of her firm, full, squeezable looking-

"You need some alone time with that view?"

"What?" Clarke startled, head snapping back around to see her wickedly grinning friend as she carelessly took another bite of her treat.

"You looked like you were trying to get her pregnant with that stare."

"That-... No. Shut up. I wasn't even-... Shut up."

"Articulate. But what I don't understand is why you act like such an angry virgin every time she's around," Raven said, thoroughly ignoring the horrified look that stretched over Clarke's face. "I mean the girl comes up with the dumbest excuses to come talk to you, and you barely ever say two words. At least none that aren't hostile."

"She doesn't though," Clarke argued despite Raven's dubious look. "She came here to flirt with you. 'Ooo Raven, your hair's so sexy'," she mimicked in a nasally voice, dodging the free hand slapping her away as she moved to caress Raven's admittedly beautiful black tendrils. "Besides her being an HR ticking time bomb with how obvious she is, you're married for God's sake."

"You're so dumb. She didn't come here to flirt with me, dude. She came to give you that," Raven laughed and shook her head, reaching over to tap a finger on Clarke's desk.

Clarke followed her line of sight, face scrunching up in surprised confusion at noticing the perfectly placed red and white cupcake sitting on the front edge of her desk. 

"Haven't you ever noticed whenever she 'accidentally' gets too many cupcakes, miraculously and mysteriously there's one red velvet in there? And it always miraculously and mysteriously ends up in your very own little combative ass hands?" Raven asked, rolling her eyes at Clarke's disgruntled look of dawning realization. "Homegirl sure as hell doesn't know my favorite flavor, I take what I can get."

"... I guarantee you, it's a coincidence," Clarke said immediately busied herself with fixing the arrangement of her work belongings. "Lexa's… I don't even know what. But thoughtful or kind or whatever the hell everyone here seems to think, isn't one of them."

"What has she ever done to you? Why do you dislike her so much?" Raven asked. 

"How do you not? She's so… I mean how does no one else see it? She's insanely unprofessional, and says just the, ugh. The things that come out of her mouth. She flirts with everything in a skirt and bosses people around who've been here for years. Besides, haven't you noticed all the weird stuff that's happened?"

"Clarke, we're a startup marketing firm that caters to millennials. Of course there's weird shit going on around here. It's a circus filled with idiots."

"No," Clarke said firmly. "You don't get it, you weren't here before she got here. Things were quiet and fine at the old building and now everything's crazy. Contracts always going missing, John literally just disappeared one day-"

"You realize he probably just quit."

"The whole office has this weird vibe now," she continued on a roll. "I have never seen so many mess ups and freak accidents in an office building of all places before in my life. And she's always just… there."

Raven just stared at her with a blank look of boredom, slowly chewing a bite of her cupcake before swallowing and shaking her head. "Again. You realize everything you described sounds normal for a company who's recently expanded, right? Personnel turnover, paperwork mistakes, general growing pains as they adjust? And you're blaming her for that? When she's literally been nothing but nice to both of us?"

"She just… rubs me the wrong way."

"I think your issue is wanting her to rub you the right way."

Clarke scoffed in an overwhelming show of disgust, ignoring the swoop of her stomach to needlessly re-straighten the pile papers in her hands before carelessly tossing them aside. "You've lost your mind if you think I could even think about her like that. I've seen the way she looks at other people around here, believe me, she's not all sunshine and cupcakes. There's something up with her... Besides, she's annoying. And cocky. You guys treat her like she's God's gift but in reality she's just another asshat lawyer who thinks she's the master of the universe… And she's not even that pretty."

Clarke hadn't meant to go on such a vitriolic vomit of words but it was hard sometimes having to listen to the endless poetic waxing of the woman's praises. It just never stopped, and Clarke genuinely couldn't understand how not one single other person seemed to be able to see through Lexa's bullshit. Her pompousness and irritatingly smooth talking at every interaction. Like somehow her taking the time to figure out Clarke's favorite cupcake and going to the trouble of buying it for her… and hand delivering it to her desk… could or should somehow make up for the salaciousness of her smirk.

"Hey, Clarke?" she heard beside her after a moment.

"What?" she breathed, trying not to let her frazzled nerves get the best of her as she faced Raven with expectant annoyance. 

"Can you turn this way?... Now do this," Raven asked, tilting her own head this way and that as her eyes roved over Clarke's face from different angles.

"Why?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm just thinking about what contouring would work best with your clown makeup, you gigantic fucking liar." 

She easily ducked the halfheartedly slap Clarke aimed at her shoulder before carelessly tossing her empty wrapper in the bin between them and swiveling to resume tapping at her keyboard. 

"I'm just saying," Raven continued, "you're fooling no one with that act. You'd have to be blind not to see how attractive that woman is. I'm happily married and even I don't exactly mind watching her shake her ass past your desk fifty-some-odd times a day. She's a hottie with a body, Clarke. Everyone, including you, can see that."

"You're as bad as she is. And I'm telling your wife you said that."

"Bold of you to assume I haven't said it to her myself... Granted, it was in the context of me wanting you two to just knock boots already, but she's aware I work with eye candy and she doesn't care. My lady knows I'm faithful, I can eye-fuck whoever I want."

"You and Anya defy all sense of reasonable relationship standards."

"That was part of the deal," Raven hummed, clearly becoming more distracted as she leaned closer to her screen and focusing on her work. 

Sighing deeply at the apparent dismissal, Clarke resigned herself to the day as she clicked back into the long list of emails waiting for her… and begrudgingly took a bite of her cupcake.

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More soon 😈

[oneweekoneband]

i didn’t though

When I was twenty and tractable I listened to “Treacherous” and I believed Taylor Swift was telling me something, because “I’ll do anything you say / If you say it with your hands”, is not content meant for straight people, even though legally they, too, are allowed to hear it, and they do generally have hands. When Taylor Swift drank beers with Karlie Kloss at a Knicks game in 2014, I believed she was telling me something even more forcefully, because, really, why be at Knicks game if not just to kill time politely before fucking whoever you’re there with. When reputation was released and it contained “Dress”, a song about buying a certain item of clothing to look good for a person you love specifically not “like a best friend” so that after “all the pining and anticipation” they can remove it from your body and you can drink wine together in the bath, I believed Taylor was screaming a confession at me, and I was more than ready to receive it. When I heard from multiple sources just last year, amidst the aggressive rainbow-deluge of the Lover promo cycle, an ultimately false rumor that said Taylor was going to come out in a Rolling Stone cover story I, somehow, incredibly, brain as smooth as a baby’s ass, believed that too.

I have believed a lot of things. And it’s a nice diversion, to believe like that. But, more recently, I’ve found that the detective in me has turned away from this one. The only facts I’ll ever know about Taylor Swift are those she wishes to share, and speculating about what secrets she may or may not be hiding is a distraction from the real, joyful work of appreciating all these already literally, unequivocally, very gay songs. I’ve found, well, that I just don’t care anymore, which sucks, as I detest the squirmy idea that I might be growing as a person. But the truth is one really can write extremely, objectively homoerotic love songs yet be, for all intents and purposes, terminally straight. And like that poignant tweet about Lin Manuel Miranda tells us, you can seem gay, because of, like, your whole deal, and then it turns out you’re just annoying. You can even have a torrid love affair with your one-time supermodel best friend and in the end just want to marry some guy from The Favourite (Allegedly from The Favourite. I have seen that film three times and could not pick that man out of a lineup if my life depended on it.) and maybe there’s nothing to announce to anybody about it at all. Sexuality is complex and personal, and Taylor’s own sexuality doesn’t much matter to me, outside of how I always think it’s nice to know there���s yet another bisexual white woman out here in the world being even more irritating than me. (I say this strictly in terms of labeling; it ought to go without saying that Taylor’s various psychosexual obsessions with things like Amy from Gone Girl, and The Kennedys, and her house in Rhode Island matter to me immensely.)  It doesn’t matter because it has no bearing on the fact that she keeps dropping queer classics.

Anyway, yeah, most good Taylor Swift songs are gay, just like most good things, generally, and there’s a number of viable picks on folklore, except not “betty”, no matter what the collective banshee’s wail of the Internet tells you. The gayest thing about “betty” is that it’s Taylor putting herself in the mind of a skateboarding teenage boy, which, yes, admittedly, is a big homo vibe, but nowhere in or around this song are any people of the same gender identity smashing bathing suit parts together, or even thinking about doing so, and when there are so many better options available, I feel it is prudent that we have just the barest hint of standards. As queerness itself is malleable, wonderfully, painfully individual, and comes in no one standard format, so too is determining which song on a Taylor Swift album is the most gay a singular, complicated calculus we all must do for ourselves within our own hearts, and, of course, there are no wrong answers, unless it so happens that your answer is not “the 1”.

“the 1” made me lose my grip for a moment. A cool lament, calmly wrenching, right off it was sucking out my bone marrow and I wasn’t able to name why. (Well, except, obviously, that the twin unit of, “You know the greatest films of all time were never made,” and “You know the greatest loves of all time are over now,” is pure, not from concentrate, peak embarrassing & devastating & all the more embarrassing for being so devastating Swiftian lyricism.) Finally, weeks after the release, out walking the streets of Los Angeles midday, masked and fractious, lower back sticky, brain a little mean, buying a soda at the gas station just to talk to someone, it came to me that  “the 1” is a spiritual sequel to Red’s drum-heavy forever banger “Holy Ground”. The Taylor of “Holy Ground” reminisces frantically about a lost love, some near-miss from youth. That drumbeat is a racing heart. The animating nervousness of “Holy Ground”, the way you can almost hear the narrator’s limbs flapping wildly against her body when she says that she’s dancing, has from the beginning marked this song to me as a story of looking back on some sort of formless and magical teenaged queer encounter. “Holy Ground” is looking at a precious memory like it’s a firefly in cupped hands—small and special and easy to lose—being not entirely certain what the memory means, since whatever it was that happened back then, you never really talked it out. “Holy Ground” is about a love that for all its vitality did not work out, but it is appreciative rather than sad. “But sometimes I wonder how you think about it now,” Taylor sings, “and I see your face in every crowd.” 

“But we were something, don’t you think so?” asks “the 1”, imploring an ex to confirm her version of events, to agree that she’s remembering it right. Taylor has not ever struggled in her work with place and the self and matching the two against one another on the wriggling timeline of the human life. I was there I was there I was there. The question here is something else. Not was it real, but was it real to you, and do you remember now what that was like. Do you remember who I was then? What we were? The truth as it pertains to the heart of another is guesswork at best, and a troublesome kind. Memories break and bend, or weren’t even recorded right to begin with, every brain a dirty liar, and for two separate, imperfect creatures to share the responsibility of preserving one history together is a disaster. The hard facts then are grounding. Essential. “I thought I saw you at the bus stop / I didn’t though��.  Everyone has past romances that they still ask questions about, yes—I am not practicing my virulent heterophobia today—but none of my queer friends are without at least one were-we-or-weren’t-we in their past, a clinch with another that was incandescent and unnameable, long over but dangling forever there loose outside the neat boxes of friend or lover. To be a queer person is to exist already beyond and without the organizing structures of heterosexuality, and this can be difficult, dangerous, but in liminality there is freedom, and in years of painstakingly debating whether I wanted to be or bang so many various somebodys I have, along the way, put the pieces of myself in the order they fit best. So then there are loves where you aren’t sure if that’s technically what it was, if it’s what they’d call it, too. Or loves that were undeniably real, only we were too busy back then with trying to turn into ourselves to keep it. And loves from the very start, from walking together on colt legs, exuberant and unprepared, and the memory is a blessing, and the memory is guilt.

 “the 1”, to the ear, is softer and slinkier than “Holy Ground”, but the lyrics are dismantling. “Holy Ground” says, “And darling, it was good / Never looking down”. Full of longing, but cheerful and sure. “the 1” is older, resigned. On “the 1” Taylor mourns a love not only because it has ended, but because she can sense, from the safety of time’s remove, that it was a love which deserved better, could have been better, if things had been only a little different, if they’d felt brave enough to try just a little more. In this version of nostalgia, the golden haze of “Holy Ground” is ribboned by a vaporous shame, a regret. The song relates a story of a love that is farther out of reach and meant more than what the little girl of “Holy Ground” could have dreamt. “In my defense I have none / for digging up the grave another time / but it would’ve been fun / if you would’ve been the one”.

[tangleweave]

@brooklynislandgirl asked:

{Sinday # 12 & 13: Eddie} Perhaps the most satisfying thing about being friends with Eddie Brock is how very little expectation there is on his end. She's been in situations before where she's asked a co-worker or other associate if they wanted to spend time together, even something so simple as grabbing pizza and watching a movie, or hiking, surfing, any of the hundreds of things she likes to do to blow off steam or give herself a chance to relax after gruelling weeks as a trauma nurse, or in her own clinic as a nurse-practitioner and certified midwife. She knows a lot about birthing babies, just no practical experience making them, or even really being able to.  Invariably, though, there's some expectation of an end-of-date kiss. Or that by allowing someone into her house that she's also making the invitation for them to try to get into her underthings, her bed, her... everything else, which it never is. She's faced disappointment and anger because of that, stared unblinking into a familiar face while being called very insulting but ultimately inaccurate words. Eddie doesn't do that.

She knows now that their rooftop picnic had been a first date. That he was gently putting forth interest in spending time with her. Getting to know her on a more intimate level. But he'd done so as a friend. Any romanticism had been nearly accidental.

And each subsequent meet up carried the same breezy comfort. Eddie would no more demand anything of her than she would be inclined to chop him up and stick him in a freezer for later consumption. She would tease him that it's because she doesn't really eat meat. Even when he's caught her dead-to-rights stealing a piece of bacon right off the plate when he's making breakfast. Eddie is gentle. And as often as he seems down on his luck, there's something terribly sweet about him that appeals to her. So while he's sitting on what is rapidly becoming his side of the couch, game-controller between his hands and the muscles and veins there attract her like those little silvery things that people put on fishing lines ~lures?~ she can't help but lower the really rather torrid romance novel she'd been reading, at least enough that only her eyes peek out over the top of the pages. Hiding the fact that she's biting her lower lip and debating asking what she's about to. "Hey, Eddie?" Innocent enough a beginning and she waits for him to pause the game. "D'you evah...uhm... do... po... erotica? Like I know everyone say men are into dat kinda t'ing, and you're a man, but..." She waves fingers at him, a little pixie like gesture. "I don' wanna assume. But if you do...like wha' kind? Girl on Girl kine, or maybe boy on boy? Couples? Monsters an' barbarians an' swords? An' mebbe...d'you prefer it in like video? Magazine? Written?" She blushes then from roots of her hair down to the tips of painted toes, one of which seems intent now into burrowing itself into one of his thighs. "Like I don' know about mos' of it but...I seen some t'ings..."

It's the little things about their flourishing relationship that really make Eddie's day. At first, it had been the cups of coffee she had brought him in the chill of a San Francisco January, and the caring, slightly sad -- and yet never pitying -- smile that accompanied them. From there, it had been the gentle words from her lips, the questions she would ask him... and the way she would titter behind her hand when he offered searing rimshots on people who could afford to be taken down a peg or two. The way she would make eye contact with him and see a person, rather than just a homeless nobody. The caring way she would assemble a meal at the soup kitchen and offer it to him with not even one iota of judgment on her face.

And then, eventually, talking. Conversations that lasted a few minutes... and then a few more. Until one day had come along he'd nearly made her late to work. And so there had been the picnic... a terrified inquiry into her interest in getting to know him better. A hope beyond hope that it might be a first date, even, though he'd been careful, so very careful, not to allow his hopes to rise into the stratosphere like that, and he'd taken every step to be the perfect gentleman. The kind of guy a girl might actually want to get to know better... by being kind, respectful, curious, and above all, courteous.

It's been months since that fateful night. Months, even, since the first time she invited him into her place as shelter from unseasonable weather. Months of building trust and amiability between them... so much care taken in making sure there weren't deeper expectations. She's beautiful, yes, and within the palace of his own mind he can't deny feeling deeply attracted to her, but foremost, he is grateful just for the quality of her company. Of being someone, who saw him as equally someone. And their companionship takes many forms... up to and including him playing video games on her couch -- on her TV, on her gaming console -- while she reads.

It feels odd, that companionable silence -- and her permission to him to abuse the privilege of using her nice things -- should be such a valuable thing to him. And while it's easy for him to become engrossed in his escapism through her television, he never takes it for granted. On the contrary... his payment to her for such luxury is his instant attention when she addresses him. Because that's the only currency he carries in abundance, and it seems to be the currency she values most.

That's why, when her lips part and she speaks his name, he pauses instantly and turns to look at her with an openly curious gaze. "Hm?"

And then the question.

His eyebrows rise at the inquiry. It's out of the blue, or so it seems. He doesn't remember having any conversations regarding taboo subjects like erotica... and thanks to his Other, his recall is augmented to be better than most. But even without it, this is Beth, after all... he's certain he would have remembered talking about sexualized media with his crush.

"Uh." He lets out a small hiccup of breath that could be qualified as an attempted yet aborted laugh. "I mean. It's, uh... it's been a little while. Scrimpin' an' savin' every last dime, it's not like I can hit up the local Blockbuster, right?" He lets out another of those noises, sort of a scoff but without the dismissive quality. "But, I mean... yeah. When I was in better times. Of course it's somethin' I liked sometimes."

He feels himself get a little flustered as he responds. It's easier, though, for him to admit to it as a past activity than a present one... as if she would care? But it matters to him. "An' I'm not really one for guy/guy action. Guy/girl worked just fine. Girl/girl, too, I mean, it's hot."

He chuckles at the idea of roleplay being involved. "Nah, not so much into the monsters an' dragons scene. I kinda... I like the sort of thing where it's just two consentin' people who want each other. An' it could be hot an' fast, or it could be slow an' sensual. I dunno, I guess it doesn't matter, you never watch videos o' that stuff for plot, but actually, videos ran the risk of makin' me laugh. Can't take 'em seriously 'cause you don't see people actin' like that for real. Honestly? Pictures. Artwork. Or even stories written. I was a writer, right? If it's a video, it doesn't last the same way a single frame does, or words on a page. If it's a picture, you can take the time to appreciate everything in it, foreground or background. If it's written, you can read it as many times as you want, but you might read somethin' different each time."

The way her toe digs into his thigh makes him squirm just a little, and he puts a reassuring hand on her ankle as he gazes at her blushing face. A grin appears amidst his stubble. "Y'okay? Feels like that was as hard for you to ask as it was for me to answer."

[imanerdychubbyqueen]

One Night Stand  Sad Eyes x Black/Hispanic  Plus Size Reader!!

warnings: Smut 18+, choking, Angst. 

Please let me know what y’all think, I want to thank @multiyfandomgirl40​ and @lady-pswrld​ for their help, it means a lot. 

P.S. All my Ocs will be Black/Hispanic Plus Size, Because Plus Size Woman deserve love too!!. Here we go!!

There's some grammar mistakes, Beware!!!!

GIF Creator: @merakiaes​

 Ashanti was sitting on the toilet, staring at the pregnancy test she took just 5 minutes ago, she was glad her parents Dwayne and Stacy and her little brother  Jamal, weren’t home because if they were, they wouldn't have liked  the results that the pregnancy test showed. Standing up and putting the test on the piece of toilet paper she ripped from the toilet paper earlier, she washed her hands, grabbing the test and heading to her room. Closing her bedroom door, Ashanti places the test in her safety deposit box, before laying on the bed, as Ashanti turns over, cuddling with her pillow, wiping her tears away, she starts to think about that one night. 

Ashanti was on her bed watching The Vampire Diaries, as a celebration for herself, she recently graduated college with her Bachelors Degree in Software Engineering, a month ago and two days ago she got hired to work for Google at home, and since it was peaceful at home, she decided to order pizza and binge watch the diaries, but was interrupted by a call from her best friend of 15 years, Monica Guzman. 

“Hello.” Ashanti says, after chewing the piece of pizza that was in her both.“Whats up Bitchh” Mariana  yells over the phone. “Nothing just chilling.” Ashanti pausing her show. “Well chilling time is over cause we are about to go to Oscars party.” Mariana picking her outfit, after looking thru her closet she decides on a pair of Levis 501 pants with a white crop top with  one of her boyfriend, Jokers Black and white flannels with air force ones and a gold chain, that Joker brought her for their 5 year anniversary. “Mari, really I don't like partying.” Ashanti silently  groans, moving from a lying position to a sitting up position. “SIS we just graduated college and we were both hired from  our dream jobs, if that isn't something to party about then i don't know what is.” Mariana  fixing her hair after getting dressed. “Mari I don't know.” Ashanti looking at her nails. “Sad Eyes is going to be there.” Monica convinces Ashanti. “So??, hie is dating Andrea Ramos' ' Ashanti mocking Andreas' voice. “ Not anymore, I don't think, Just pleasee comeee pretty please. '' Mariana begs. “Fineee.” Ashanti gives in. “Great, so Joker is picking me and my brother up first, so ill say about 30 minutes we should be at your place and also, wear something sexy!!” Mariana putting her on speaker. “I don't have anything Sexy!” Ashanti getting up from her bed and walking towards her closet. “Yes you do, you have the 2 piece yellow set, the one with a crop top and matching short skirt and wear you're black vans.” Mariana  instructs Asthanti. “Okay, I found It” Ashanti finds the 2 piece outfit under the chest box in her closet in the Ross shopping bag she hid from her dad. “Alright see you in 30.” Mariana  says. “Bye.” Ashanti replies , before ending the call. Picking up the box from her bed and heading to the kitchen, placing it in the fridge and closing the fridge door, she heads to the front door and the back door making sure they are both locked before heading back to her room and grabbing her black towel and running to the bathroom, locking the bathroom door once As Ashanti got inside, turning on the shower, she hangs up the towel while the shower gets hot before stepping inside shower, washing her body and wetting her hair since she washed it yesterday, she starts to rinse her off when she quickly remembers she needs to shave her legs, grabbing her men razor and her shaving cream she quickly but carefully starts to shave her legs, after spending 15 minutes in the shower, Ashanti turns off the shower, grabbing her towel drying off her body before exiting the shower, stepping on the mat and the towel they use on the floor. Reaching  the sink, She grabs her hair products from the sink cabinets that's located under the sink, and putting them next to the sink before getting up and opening and grabbing some gel spreading to her hair evenly, before checking the final result in the mirror, noticing she missed a few stands, Ashanti grabs a smaller amount than before playing the gel on those strands she miss before smiling at the end result, washing her hands, and putting her hair products away.

 Unlocking the door and jogs to her room, Ashanti quickly hangs up her towel, before walking to her outfit that was laying on her nightstand, grabbing her yellow lacy set, she brought from Torrid she quickly puts it on, then her skirt, crop top and finally her socks before putting her shoes on, Grabbing her lanyard which contain her house key and car key and her new Employee Id for Google, before shutting her tv off and fixing her queen size bed with black comforter set covering it. Taking a small glance around the room making sure everything was shut off and checking the bathroom, she heads outside opening and closing the door before locking it with her key. The minute she turned around Joker's car was already on the sidewalk waiting for her. “Hurryy upp” Mariana  yells, making Ashanti jog towards his car, getting inside once Sad Eyes steps out to let her in. “Thank you Joker for picking me up.” Ashanti yells. ‘You know I got you, you're family.” Joker says. Turning her attention to Sad Eyes, aka Angel Guzman, Mariana’s brother, she thinks about all the times he used to drive her and Mariana to the liquor store to get snacks for their sleepover, and how she would buy him a coke as a thank you, how he would smile at her making her blush like a schoolgirl, Mariana finally found out her best friend has a crush on her brother when Ashanti told her on a dare, of course like every girl who has a brother thinks EWW!! But later Mariana was glad it was her best friend, somebody who knows how to treat someone unlike Andrea Ramos. Ashanti didn't realize they were there until Sad Eyes tapped on her shoulder. “Are you coming Ash or are you going to sit in this car and stare off in the distance?” Sad Eyes chuckles. Seeing Sad Eyes giving both of his hands to help her out of the car made her start to feel like a schoolgirl over again. “They're here!! Freeridge newest College graduates Ashanti Turner and Mariana Guzman!!”Oscar Diaz, aka Spooky shouts out with a beer in the air in his left hand, once they made their appearance on Oscar's lawn. “Congratulations!! Proud of you!!” Oscar kissing both their foreheads before heading back to his Reina of 4 years Letty Mendez. “Gracias.” Both girls shout so he can hear them. Walking behind Joker and Mariana while Sad Eyes is walking beside her, she felt out of place, since some of Andrea's friends here giving her a glare once they saw her walking next to Sad Eyes. Sad Eyes must have felt her discomfort, grabbing her hand and bringing to his lips and giving it a kiss before saying “It will be okay, enjoy the party it's for you anyway, you and Mariana!!”. 2 hours have passed since arriving to the party  and after dancing with Mariana, shaking her ass, letting loose.

Ashanti decides to take a break for herself and grabs a Modelo and heads to the porch in front of Oscars front door, taking a seat and sipping here and there, Ashanti thinks back to the past how far she's overcome, but is interrupted by a voice. “Can I join you?” a voice asks, making Ashanti turning her head and looking up. “Oh sure, if you want?” Ashanti asks, regretting what she just said instantly hitting her forehead with the palm of her left hand. “You're cute” Sad Eyes chuckles, looking at how embarrassed she might have felt right now. “Me??’ Ashanti pointed to herself after looking around to make sure it was her he was talking about. “Yes you” Sad Eyes takes a sip of his beer. “You shouldn't be saying that stuff when you're with someone else .” Ashanti looks at Sad Eyes. “It's complicated.” Sad Eyes looking down at his shoes. “What do you mean complicated?” Ashanti uses air quotes for the word Complicated. “I feel like she's using me, to  buy her clothes and shoes or whatever she wants , and also to show off to other girls that she's with me, that I'm taken.” Sad Eyes looking up at Ashanti. “I'm sorry. “ Ashanti put a piece of strand of her curly hair in front of her face. “Don't be. It's not your fault.” Sad Eyes putting that strand of hair in front of her curly hair behind her ear “Don't hide your beautiful face Mamas.” Making Ashanti giggle. “Can I kiss you Ashanti Marie Turner?” Sad Eyes putting his hand under her chin making her look at him. “I don't think t-that's -” Ashanti stutters. “Please just this once.” Sad Eyes looks at her. Ashanti nods. Getting her confirmation, Sad Eyes craved more the minute his lips landed on hers, taking matters into his own hands he slowly leaned in again for a full blow kiss, after receiving a reaction from her he smirked slightly as his arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer, Ashanti wraps her arms around his neck,  unhooking one arm from his neck, she places her hand on his right cheek, then her other hand on his left cheek, bringing him so much closer now, as both of these two were to focusing on fighting Dominance in this makeout session on the front porch, that they didn't hear Joker and Mariana coming towards them. “Are you guys  ready to go home??” Joker asks, while waving his arm that wasn't around Mariana's neck, making Sad Eyes and Ashanti pull away from each other quickly. “Did we interrupt Something?” Mariana smirked, as she can tell they were kissing by the way their lips were looking. “No,No” Both Ashanti and Sad Eyes say, shaking their heads. Monica nods her head, knowing they are lying. “You guys ready??” Joker asks one more time. “Yes” Ashanti and Sad Eyes both reply. Getting up from the porch and walking behind Joker and Mariana, Both Sad Eyes and Ashanti can feel the sexual tension rising as both of them walk beside each other. Getting in and sitting behind Sad Eyes Ashanti blushes at their little make out session. Parking next to the sidewalk in front of her house, Ashanti stepped out of Jokers car after giving Mariana her kisses on her cheek before patting Joker on the bed and stepping out once Sad Eyes got up and opened his door and stepping out, once she was finally out of the car, she looks at Sad Eyes and says as Mariana and Joker look at her, “Sad Eyes do you want to come in, my parents are gone and Jamal's at Ruby's for the night. “ fidgeting with her fingers, once she hears a car door open she looks up, seeing Sad Eyes standing in front of her and says” Yes!!” Sad Eyes chuckles, making Ashanti laugh, walking along the sidewalk towards her front door, they hear Joker scream “Use protection.” Making Mariana hit  him on his shoulder before pulling away and driving down the road, Reaching her door, Ashanti walks in front of Sad Eyes, enters her home, and turns around and watches Sad Eyes close the door and locks it before leading him to her bedroom, to watch a movie on Netflix.

Picking The Lodge as the movie they would watch , after she changes to her pink pajamas set, with a soft comfy tank top and a soft and comfy pair of shorts, Ashanti pulls back her covers and slips in and wait for Sad Eyes whos in the bathroom, to start the movie. Hearing the bathroom door open Ashanti pulls back the covers over her so she is mostly covered, and watches as Sad Eyes enters her room and closes and locks her bedroom door, before slipping in her bed next to her. “What are we watching?” Sad Eyes asks , looking at her tv with one of his arms behind his head, and the other one laying across her stomach. “It's called the Lodge, about a woman who babysits her boyfriend's kids while he has to go on a business trip I think.” Ashanti squinting one eye, trying to remember what it said for the movie description. Sad Eyes nods his head, taking in what Ashanti just said, before pressing play. Half an hour in the movie, Ashanti was laying down, with the covers covering her face, just to be prepared for the jump scares. Ashanti jumps as the scary scene pops up on scene, making her yelp and Sad Eyes chuckling, touching Ashanti thigh rubbing back and forth as sign that she's okay, feeling his hand move back and forth on her thigh, Ashanti starts to felt tingling down in her pussy , Ashanti was a virgin, but tonight she wouldn't be anymore. As Sad Eyes turned his attention away from the movie, looking at Ashanti as she was looking back at him, they both could feel the sexual tension, but before anything happened Sad Eyes said “One night, that's all i can offer you Ashanti.” Ashanti nods understanding this is a one-time thing. Sad Eyes turned to the body, laying on his side facing her, looking at her, putting his hand under Ashanti's chin, making her look up at him, leaning in Sad Eyes kisses her lips softly, Ashanti puts her hands behind his neck, Rubbing the back of his head up and down. Sad Eyes, moves from her lips to her neck, kissing it roughly, before sucking it, creating a hickey. Ashanti moans, tilting her head back at the movement, giving him more access's, which he granted. Removing her hands from his neck, moving them down his shirt until she reached the bottom of it, she pulls it up, signaling him to take it off, Sad Eyes stops sucking her neck, getting up from her, sitting up on his knees pulling the shirt over his head, throwing it across her room once it was fully off, before going back down sucking on her neck, kissing up from her neck down to her pussy, stopping it, once he reaches her skirt.Pulling her crop top up and exposing her yellow lacey bra, pulling the bra down freeing her breasts out, squeezing them, rubbing her nipples, pulling them as Sad Eyes places kisses from her neck to below her belly button before stopping in front of her skirt, making her tilt her head back, lifting her stomach. Looking up at Ashanti, Sad Eyes asks for permission to remove her shorts, threw his eyes putting his hands on her waist, once Ashanti gave him a nod as a yes, he wastes no time then pulling each side of the shorts down, until they reach her ankles, yanking them off of her, he throws it across the room. Looking back at Ashanti, Sad Eyes Pulls her legs apart from each other, before kissing her from ankles on both legs  to the inside of her thighs on both legs.pulling her underwear to the side, Sad Eyes looks at her one more time, sending her his sexiest smirk, before sticking his long tongue inside her pussy, diving in, putting his arms underneath, her thighs earning a squeal from Ashanti, pulling her closer to him, giving his tongue more access to her black/ pink pussy. Ashanti felt wave of pleasure hitting her, once Sad Eyes stuck his tongue inside of her. ”F-Fuck Angel” Ashanti moans, traveling her hands to her breast before squeezing them, playing with her nipples with her middle finger.”You like that mamas” Sad Eyes words sending a vibration through her body. ”Fuckkk you taste so good, You taste like strawberries my favorite.” He says, adding a finger while he licks her pussy. “A-Angel I’m about to cum!!” Ashanti moans, lifting her stomach up. ”Yeah, you gonna cum for papi, Fuck the more I taste you the harder I get” Sad Eyes feeling his boner growing each lick he licks.“Yeah??!! I want to feel you in my mouth!!, I want to taste you papi” Ashanti tilting her head back. "You will mamas, But first you gotta cum for papi, can you cum for papi??!!” Sad Eyes sticking his long thick fingers in her pussy moving in and out at a rapid pace. `Yes, Yes I can” Ashanti feeling her release coming. Ashanti's body starts to shake, as Sad Eyes sticks his tongue on her, slurping all of her juices in his mouth. Ashanti tries to calm down her breathing after feeling her first release, Sad Eyes looks over at her laughing a little bit. “How do you feel??” Sad Eyes, asks standing up, moving to her side of the bed. “Amazing but it’s your turn now” Ashanti gets on her knees, crawling towards Sad Eyes on the bed, reaching him Ashanti wraps her small , yellow manicured nails around his long thick cock, before looking up at him through her eyes lashes.``Your soo big” Ashanti looks down at his cock, moving her hand up and down, making Sad Eyes groan. “Stop teasing Ash, put it in your mouth baby, stop being a tease, show papi how deep you can swallow my cock!!” Sad Eyes looks down at her. Without a warning, Ashanti places his cock in her mouth, hitting the back of her throat moving her head up and down slowly at first before speeding up. Sad Eyes brings a hand to her hair, grabbing a fistful before moving her head faster and faster. “F-Fuck look at the good girl, how she can suck a cock just like a porn star!! I bet you mom and dad don’t know how much of a freak their daughter is huh??” Sad Eyes leaning his head back.Ashanti moans, sending vibrations to Sad Eyes body, looking down at her, he can see tears coming out of her eyes, making him almost releasing. F-Fuck baby, Your gonna make me release in your mouth.” “Do it” Ashanti mumbles, pulling Sad Eyes closer to her, grabbing the back of his thighs, pushing them forward towards her. “No, I want to feel how much of a freak you can be!” Sad Eyes, pulling his cock out of her mouth, Ashanti felt some spit drip down from her mouth to the floor. Sad Eyes picks her up, throwing her on her stomach, Ashanti already knows this position she saw it so many times on Pornhub, arching her body, waiting for him. Sad Eyes taking in the view, slowly hands his hands down from  her back to her ass, Smacking each ass cheeks until each ass cheeks is turning red before leaning forward, his top carefully lays on top of her off, whispering in her ear. “You are not allowed to cum until I do??!! Understand!! IF YOU DO, papi will destroy that tight little pussy of yours so rough, that you won’t be able to leave your bed for weeks.” Sad Eyes commands, kissing her cheek before grabbing her waist pulling her closer to him. Sad Eyes wasted no time and slammed into her, Ashanti moans the feeling of him going in and out making her throw her head back, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pounding into her fast and rough, Sad Eyes groans, feeling her clench around his cock like a little pornstar would, ”F-Fuck Ashanti who knew the little good girl had some bomb ass pussy.” Sad Eyes chuckles. ”Yess papi!!” Ashanti biting her lip, trying to hide her moan. ”Don't be shy, Let those moans out baby, let you're neighbors know who's fucking you so good!!” Sad Eyes wrapping his other hand around her neck, choking a little bit. ”F-Fuck Angel, I'm about to cumm” Ashanti whimpers. ”Dammm you love to be choked too, dammn you're a freak for sure!!, HOLD THAT SHIT UNDERSTAND!!” Sad Eyes grunts, feeling his release approaching. ”I-I-I can't hold it any longer” Ashanti cries in pleasure. ”FUCKK HERE IT COMES BABY!!” Sad Eyes, growls, spilling all his cum inside of her, painting her walls white ” Cum for papi.”Hearing Sad Eyes, giving her permission, Ashanti waiting no time cumming so hard she and his cum mixed together inside of her and on his cock. Pulling out of Ashanti, Sad Eyes watches as Her body lay flat, while she was still gripping the sheets, chuckling at the sight, before heading to the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth from her bathroom and wetting two towels from the sink and wiping himself before heading back to Ashanti wiping her down with the we towel before placing her under the covers, closing her bedroom door he heads back to the bed, laying next to her, he watches her turn over and look at him. ”What??!!” Sad Eyes laughs. ”Thank you for being my first.” Ashanti says, caressing his cheek. ”Wait you're joking right.” Sad Eyes gasps. ”No I'm not.” Ashanti shaking her head. Sad Eyes gets up and checks the covers, not seeing any blood, he pushes the blankets back, seeing a big red spot on the mattress. ”Fuck, why didn't you tell me??!!, I wouldn't have been so rough on you.” Sad Eyes exclaims. ”I knew if I did you wouldn't have done it, besides I wanted it rough. ” Ashanti taking the blankets off the bed. ”But the way you suck my cock and the stuff you did, people who aren't virgins Don't really do what you did.” putting his hands on his waist. ”There's porn websites like Pornhub, redtube.” Ashanti placed the old blankets in the hamper in her room, grabbing new sheets from her closet. ”Fuck, I don't know what to say” Sad Eyes helping her make the bed. ”Don't say anything, Don't beat yourself up, I love the way you fucked me, even if it's one night.” Ashanti placed a kiss on his cheek stepping on her tiptoes. ”Is it bad that I want another round but this time in you're shower?” Sad Eyes looks down at her. ”No, Because I was thinking the same thing.” Ashanti giggling. ”Well in that case.” picking her up, opening her bedroom door, walking her to the shower closing the door behind them, after making her bed. After they finished around 2, they finished round 3 in the kitchen, Sad Eyes fucking her over the sink. As the night processed, neither one of them didn't realize the risk of not using the protection. 

*Next Morning* 

Ashanti woke up, to her front door being opened, and closing, hearing her parents, brother's voice, she starts to panic thinking that Sad Eyes was still here, turning over and seeing the side he slept on empty, she calmed down, but she knew it was just for one night but she still felt a little upset that he did leave, even though she agreed to it. 

*ending* 

Ashanti knew how much fun it would be , inviting him in her home, but what she didn't know was how much drama would enter her life by having one night of fun. 

Ashanti looks at her phone, staring at the number she just typed in, debating on calling the person, Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, opening her eyes. She clicks on the phone icon before putting the phone to her ear, waiting for the other person to answer, after the phone rang for a second time someone picks it up. ”Hello?” The person on the other side of the phone call asks. 

”Hey it's me, can we meet up and talk, it's really important ” Ashanti tried not to sound upset. . ”Yeah, I'll come over tomorrow at 2 is that okay.” the other voice answers. ” See you then.” Ashanti replies before hanging up the phone, placing her phone by her side, looking at her fingers, letting the tears fall down her beautiful brown face. 

@thewarriorprincessxo​ @firebenderwolf​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @imaginetrahs​

[pikapeppa]

Samson/Roman Hawke: Feelings

Some Samson & Roman Hawke fluff for @schoute​! Well, as fluffy as these grouchy bastards ever get, in any case. Featuring Isabela and Anders being nosy bitches very good friends. 😂

~4500 words; read on AO3 instead. 

*****************

Isabela pointed at a small ship in the Fereldan section of the docks. “... and you see that little skiff there? She’s a lovely little thing if you’re looking for something speedy. Perfect for smuggling. But that’s not what I want.” She sighed and leaned against a nearby salt-stained barrel. “What I want is—” 

Anders interrupted her. “– a full-bodied ship that can take a good pounding, with lots of room for booty. We know.”

Isabela smirked at him. “So you do listen, then. And here I thought that brain of yours was totally tied up with medicine or that mage-rights stuff.”

Anders huffed. “You say that as though you disagree with my so-called ‘mage rights stuff’. I know you agree with me, even if you won’t talk about it.” 

Isabela tsked and folded her arms. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you should take a stand!” Anders exclaimed. “Staying quiet about mage rights is as good as condoning their poor treatment by the Templars! Right, Hawke?” He nudged Roman with his elbow. 

Roman jolted and looked at him. “What?”

Isabela snickered. “See, even Hawke is bored of hearing you talk about this all the time.” 

“She’s not bored,” Anders retorted. “She just wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s what being bored means, you blond fool,” Isabela drawled. She pushed away from the barrel she was leaning on and sidled up to Roman. “What are you looking at, sweet thing?” 

“No one – I mean, nothing,” Roman said brusquely. 

Isabela’s eyebrow rose in a sly gesture. “No one? So you were looking at someone, then.” She peered with interest in the direction that Roman had been facing. “Is it a big burly sailor? I’m willing to go halves with you if you want.”

Roman grunted and elbowed Isabela. “There’s no fucking sailor. I wasn’t looking at–”

Anders cut in. “You were looking at Samson, weren’t you?” 

Roman scowled at him, and Isabela wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Really?” 

Roman forced herself not to look at Samson, who was standing by the pier about a hundred paces away and asking passersby for coin. “Mind your own fucking business,” she scolded.

Anders’ expression became serious. “Listen, Hawke. As your friend, I — look, I’m not judging you–”

“I am,” Isabela said. “Samson hasn’t got a single muscle to his name. How can he even fuck you properly when he’s so thin?”

“He’s not that thin,” Roman retorted without thinking. 

Isabela’s face lit up. “So he’s a good lay, then?”

Damn it, Roman thought furiously. Why had she opened her bloody mouth? Why? 

“Maker’s fucking mercy, will you butt out?” she snapped. It had been a week since Isabela, Varric and Anders had witnessed Roman’s embarrassingly public argument with Samson at the Hanged Man — an argument that had, regrettably, ended with Roman and Samson fucking furiously in a nearby alley. 

Not that any of her companions had witnessed their tawdry but torrid alleyway fuck. But that didn’t stop Roman’s companions from jumping to conclusions that were, unfortunately, true.

Roman had hoped that her refusal to talk about it would make her companions leave her alone. The strategy had mostly worked with Varric, who had said nothing more about it than ‘let me know if you want to talk’, which was only mildly irritating.

Anders and Isabela, on the other hand, were a pair of gossipy assholes. Not that there was anything to gossip about, since Roman hadn’t spoken to Samson at all since the alleyway incident. 

“As I was saying,” Anders said with a chiding look at Isabela, “I’m not judging you. But as your friend, I should, um, warn you that intimate physical contact with Samson might not be the… safest idea.”

Roman gave him a suspicious look. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Isabela wrinkled her nose. “Anders, are you sure you’re speaking as a friend and not as ‘the doctor of the free clinic who’s trying to act like he hasn’t seen Samson’s cock’?” 

Roman stared at him. “Wait, have you?”

“No,” Anders blurted. “No, I—” He clamped his lips together, then seemed to collect himself and straightened up. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my patients. But–”

Isabela interrupted him. “So Samson has been your patient, then. What for? A skin rash? Something that Hawke could catch? Was it crabs? Maker, I hope it wasn’t crabs.” She turned to Roman with a grimace. “You haven’t had any itching, have you?”

“Shut up!” Roman hissed. “Just shut up, will you? Both of you.” She pointed at Isabela. “You keep the fuck out of it. I’m not giving you any dirty details.”

Isabela pouted. “You’re no fun.” 

Roman ignored her and pointed at Anders. “And you. Stop trying to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. If I want to know if Samson has a… a fucking rash or something, I’ll just ask him myself.” 

“Will you really?” Anders said. “I thought you hadn’t spoken to him since the, uh, argument.”

Roman recoiled slightly. How did Anders know that? “What’s it to you?” she demanded. 

He gave her an exasperated look. “Like it or not, Hawke, I do actually consider us to be friends,” he drawled. “And guess what? Surprise! I care about my friends and their wellbeing! Who would’ve guessed?”

Isabela tsked. “You didn’t seem to care about me too much the other day when I ran out of coin at the Blooming Rose.”

He smirked at her. “It’s not that I didn’t care. It’s that I cared more about watching you talk your way out of being thrown out by Madame Lusine.” 

Isabela rolled her eyes and turned to Hawke. “Anyway,” she said. “When you said Samson isn’t that skinny, what exactly—” 

Roman had suddenly had enough. “Shut up,” she snarled. “Shut the fuck up, okay? Leave me alone.” She turned on her heel and stormed away. 

After about five furious steps, she realized that she didn't know where she was going. She couldn’t very well storm over to Samson while Anders and Isabela were watching like greedy vultures. But she also didn’t want to leave the docks, since Samson was here. 

But why the fuck did it matter if he was here, if she wasn’t planning on talking to him?

At that moment, Samson glanced over and caught her eye.

Her belly twisted. When his usual weary expression started shifting into surprise, her guts twisted even more. 

She abruptly changed the direction she was walking and stalked away from him to the opposite end of the pier, silently cursing herself and him the entire way. 

Fifteen minutes later, when Roman was feeling a bit less rattled – and, incidentally, had confirmed that Anders and Isabela had left the docks – she made her way back along the pier in Samson’s direction. He was in the same area, but now he was sitting idly on a dilapidated crate against the shaded wall of a cheap dockside inn. Or at least it looked like he was idle. But Roman knew his habits well enough. She knew his idle-looking loitering just meant he was listening carefully to what passersby were saying, in case anyone said anything of interest that he could trade for coin or other favours. 

She stalked over to him and sat abruptly beside him on a second dilapidated crate, and he jumped. “Maker’s–” he cursed, then recoiled slightly as he recognized her. “Bird? What are you–”

She thrust a steaming and greasy newspaper-wrapped packet at him. “Here.”

His eyebrows rose. “What’s — is that fish and chips?”

“Obviously,” she said snarkily.

He frowned. “What are you giving this to me for?”

Roman gave him an exasperated look. “To do a fucking tap dance on it. What do you think? To eat it, obviously.”

Samson cautiously took the fish and chips, and Roman folded her arms. “I ate half of it. I couldn’t finish the rest.”

He opened the packet slowly, then raised an eyebrow at her. “You sure you ate half of this? Looks untouched to me.”

Roman scowled at him. “Look, d’you want it or not?”

“‘Course I do,” Samson said. “I’m not too proud to turn down my first hot meal in a week.” He gave her a twisted half-smile, then started eating. 

Roman just sat there beside him as he ate. He didn’t speak and neither did she, and by the time he was finishing his meal, Roman’s shoulders felt slightly less tense than they had all day. 

He sighed in satisfaction and crumpled up the newspaper, then glanced at her. “So. What’s happening with you?”

“What do you mean?” she said.

He shrugged. “Well, your knickers are in a twist. Who crossed you?”

She scowled. “My knickers aren’t fucking twisted. I’m fine.”

He sighed. “All right, all right. Just asking.”

The silence stretched between them again, but it was rather dour this time, and Roman began to feel a cold wriggle of guilt — a feeling that only worsened when Samson broke the awkward silence between them. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Bird,” he said quietly. “I was just wondering how you were. It’s been a minute since you came ‘round.”

Her heart squeezed in an uncomfortable way. “I’m fine,” she said again. Then she shot him a resentful look. “Why do you care, anyway?”

He arched one brow. “I did mention it’s been a while since my last hot meal, right?”

A flicker of anger came to life in her belly. “So what, I’m your fucking meal ticket? That’s why you were wondering where I was?”

“That’s not the only reason,” he replied.

She glared at him in silence. His brows were drawn in a frown, but his eyes were steady on her face — unnervingly steady, in fact. 

A sudden flash of memory crossed her mind: the intensity of his stormcloud-grey eyes when he was pushing up her skirt and sliding his callused fingers up the inside of her thigh.

A flush of heat burned hotly through her limbs and throat and straight to her mouth. “Fuck you,” she burst out. 

His eyes narrowed. “No, Bird. Fuck you.”

She glared at him for a moment more. Then, for some reason, a snort of laughter escaped her. 

Samson stared at her. Then a slow smile crept across his narrow face. He chuckled and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Maker’s bloody balls. You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

She huffed, then settled back against the brick wall. “You sound like my uncle. And my brother.”

“Well, that’s not disturbing,” he drawled. 

She shot him a dirty look, then relaxed a little more at the sarcastic curl of his smile. She shifted slightly on her crate, brushing her shoulder to his in the process. “Ah, I take it back. You stink more than both of them,” she said. Never mind that she liked the unique melding of his woodsy masculine musk with the twang of lyrium that always hung around him.   

Samson clicked his tongue. “If you’re looking to cut my balls off, you’re too late. The Templars already have ‘em in storage somewhere.”

She shot him a sharp look. She hated how he always talked about the Templars like they’d defeated him. 

He glanced at her, then wilted slightly. “Ah, come on, Bird, it was a joke. Lighten up a little, will you?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking again. “Let me know where your balls are stored, and I’ll get them back for you next time I go to the Gallows.” 

He chuckled again — that rough-sounding heh-heh-heh that made something shiver deep in her belly. “Nice,” he said. “That was almost funny.” 

“Fuck you,” she said again, but with no ire this time. “I’m hilarious.” 

“By qunari standards, maybe,” he remarked. “Sense of humour like that, they should send you in to negotiate with that big qunari chief.” 

Roman huffed a little laugh at the idea. If anyone ever asked her to talk to the qunari, she’d laugh right in their face before telling them to take a long walk off a short pier. 

They fell quiet once more, but it was an oddly peaceful silence this time, and Roman slowly realized that this was the first time all week that she hadn’t been feeling at the edge of her temper.  

Then, even more slowly, she realized that she was leaning into Samson’s shoulder, and that he wasn’t moving away. 

She could feel the heat of his arm through his threadbare shirt. A strange jittery feeling began to rattle in her belly, and she licked her dry lips and stared vacantly at the Waking Sea while the warmth of Samson’s skin bled through both of their sleeves to spread across her arm. 

She was so focused on the strange pleasantness of his arm against hers that she actually jumped when he spoke again. “Can I ask you something without you biting my head off?” he said.

She instinctively shifted away from him. “That depends. Are you going to ask me something fucking stupid?”

He gave her a weary look. “Come on, Bird. You’re breaking my balls here.”

I thought the Templars had those, she thought snidely, but the seriousness of his expression stopped her from making the snarky remark. She sighed. “All right, fine. Ask your fucking question.”

“Don’t you ever…” He trailed off, then rubbed his forehead. “Maker’s balls.”

She frowned, her curiosity and nerves piqued now by his hesitation. “What?”

He sighed, then lowered his hand and gave her a frank look. “I’m askin’ this out of curiosity, all right? Not because I was a Templar.”

She scoffed and folded her arms to hide her growing discomfiture. “This is going to be good.”

He sighed again and ran his hand over his hair. Then, to her surprise, he shifted closer to her and leaned in close. “You never worry about getting possessed by demons?” he asked in a very quiet voice.

Her heart jammed itself in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “Excuse me?” she croaked.

He gave her a chiding look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Why are you asking me this?” she said in a hard tone.

“Because you’re a blood mage who’s angry all the time,” he said, very quietly. “If you was anybody else, I’d have put a royal on you being demon fodder already.” 

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” she demanded. 

“I just mean…” He faltered, then smoothed a hand over his hair once more, and Roman was vindictively satisfied to note that his expression was slowly twisting with discomfort. “I just meant you’re… you’re too smart to not have thought about it, all right?” Then he made a little face. “Well, I mean… not smart enough to not use blood magic, but smart enough to know how dangerous it is.”

She glared at him. There were compliments buried in what he’d said, but his judgment about her blood magic was overpowering enough to cover any praise he might have been trying to give. 

She dropped her voice to a furious whisper. “Will you fuck off for even one second about me using blood magic? I never use anyone’s blood but my own. I never do spells that are bigger than I can handle. I’m not a fucking idiot, and if you’d stop jumping down my throat every time I–” 

He cut her off with a loud groan. “Look, forget I said anything, all right? Bloody impossible trying to have a conversation with you.” He glared at her with his steely bloodshot eyes. “That’s all I was trying to do, Bird. It was just a question. It wasn’t a bloody accusation. I’m not trying to trick you and drag you off to the Gallows. It was just a question.”

Just a question, he said. It sounded innocent enough, but Roman knew better; her father had long taught her and Bethany that questions about magic should never be taken at face value. It was careless and stupid of Roman to let Samson witness her use of blood magic in the first place. Ever since she’d returned from the deep roads, it had been getting harder to hide the fact that she was a mage. If it became widely known that she practiced blood magic, the blowback on her family would be bad, especially now that Carver was a fucking Templar.

But Samson had never told anyone that she was a blood mage. He’d kept this information to himself, even though he could have sold it in a heartbeat to any number of people who wanted to take Roman down a peg. And sure, maybe he picked on her once in a while about it, but his picking usually took the form of macabre jokes or sarcasm, and Roman would take dark humour over her family’s self-righteous censure any day. 

She shot Samson a dirty look, then dropped her gaze to her hands and picked at the red scarf around her wrist — one of a stock of scarves she used to mop herself up after channeling the power of her own blood. As the moments of silence ticked by, her anger gradually ebbed away, and she was able to consider the question he’d asked.

Of course she thought about being possessed by demons. It was something she thought about every time she slashed her arm to pull on a thread of the heady power that was held in her veins. But she couldn’t admit this to her family; they’d just scold or nag her even more than they already did. Admitting it to Samson, on the other hand… 

Maybe he really was just curious. Maybe he honestly did just want to have a conversation. But did she dare give him an honest answer?

Finally she sighed and folded her arms. “Sometimes I wonder if I am a rage demon,” she said. “I’m so…” She broke off and looked away. 

He shifted slightly on his crate. From the corner of her eye, she could see him looking at her. But he didn’t speak, and something about his silent attention prompted her to finish her sentence. 

“I’m so fucking pissed all the time,” she said tightly. 

Samson grunted. “If you were a rage demon, that would explain a lot.”

She looked at him, thrown off by his unexpected response. “Like what?”

“Like how you’re such a wildcat in the sack,” he said. “Or against the wall, I should say.”

She gaped at him, surprised that he’d mentioned their impromptu fuck so bluntly. There was a wicked slant to his eyebrows and the corners of his lips now, and for some incomprehensible reason, it made her smile. 

She scoffed and punched him in the arm. “That’s desire demons, you fucking idiot.”

He nodded. “Right, right.”

She relaxed back against the wall. “I thought you’re supposed to know that shit with your Templar training and all. Doesn’t your training include some kind of handy guidebook to demons?”

He huffed out one of those rough-sounding chuckles. “If it did, I don’t remember. Too busy passing love letters for randy mages.”

Roman smirked at him. When he gave her a little half-smile, something in her chest jolted in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

She looked away from him and off toward the Waking Sea once more. The water was slapping gently against the ships in the harbour, and when Samson eventually spoke once more, his gravelly voice was a pleasant contrast with the water’s soft hush and flow. 

“Have you always been like this?” he asked.

“Like what?” she said.

He gestured vaguely at her. “You know. Pissy all the time.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, but despite his tactless words, his expression was quite sincere. She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “A long time.” And honestly, if she was forced to think about it, she couldn’t quite put a finger on when she’d started feeling this… this persistent, low-level simmering of anger that always seemed like it was just a few words away from boiling over.

When had she started feeling so angry all the time? Was it when her mother had blamed her for Bethany being torn apart by that fucking ogre? Was it when Father had died, and her mother became even more dependent and demanding? Was it further back, when the boy she’d first had sex with suddenly decided he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore? Or was it even further back than that, when she was a child and she’d first started noticing that other people’s parents didn’t talk to each other in those quiet furious voices that sounded like kettles hissing?

She swallowed the growing lump in her throat, then pinned him with a hard look. “When did you start being all pessimistic and thinking your life isn’t worth shit?” she said snidely.

He recoiled slightly, then coughed out a bitter-sounding laugh. “When I joined the Templars and got put on a leash, of course.”

She turned to face him more fully. “You’re not a fucking Templar anymore.”

“As you’re always reminding me,” he drawled.

“I always mean it as a good thing, you dumbass,” she retorted. “They were better when they had you. They were better when they actually had someone who gave a fuck about people. But they’d have ruined you.” She settled back against the wall once more. “You’re better off without them.”

He gave her a deeply skeptical look. “You really think that?”

“Yes,” she said fiercely. “There’s no worse place in the world than a Chantry Circle. I’d rather be an apostate hiding for my entire life than be trapped in a fucking tower with Chantry sisters telling me I’m a sinful piece of shit for being born a mage.” 

His face was deadly serious now. “I wasn’t born that way, Bird.”

“But they made you this way,” she insisted. “It’s their fault you’re on the streets. It’s not some failing of yours. You’re better than them. They — they tried to ruin you, but they didn’t, all right?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Calm down before you turn into a rage demon.” 

She scoffed and punched his arm. “Fuck you.”

“Is that you asking?” he said. 

Her belly hopped with nerves, and she shot him a sharp look. This was the second time he was referencing their clinch in the alleyway.

“Come on,” he said. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” 

His expression was sly and knowing, and his raspy voice was softened with a hint of coaxing. She glared at him for a second, then shrugged irritably. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I’m just wondering if it might happen again,” he said.

“I don’t know, okay?” she said curtly. “I don’t — I don’t know.” Fucking him had been such a stupid thing to do. Not because they’d been half-drunk or because it was in an alley, or because of whatever vague gross reasons Anders had been hinting at. It was stupid for her to fuck Samson because… ugh, because she liked him. 

Roman hated the fact that she liked Samson. She hated the fact that she gave a shit what happened to him. In her opinion, there was nothing stupider you could do than get into a sexual relationship with someone you actually gave a shit about.

Samson shrugged. “Well, I had a good time. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

She glowered at him, and he let out an incredulous laugh. “Andraste’s tits. It’s a compliment, Bird. What’s wrong, didn’t you enjoy it?”

His tone was mocking, and it pissed her off. But what pissed her off even more was that he was right. ‘Enjoying it’ didn’t even begin to cover how good he’d made her body feel. It was a full week after their impetuous tryst in a dank and darkened alley, and she still couldn’t stop replaying the memories of his voice panting harshly in her ear, or the blissful roughness of his hands grabbing her hips and the rough rhythm of his cock pounding into her. 

But that wasn’t the fucking point. 

She stood up abruptly. “I’ll see you,” she said tersely, and she started to walk away.

He grabbed her arm to stop her, and she glared at him. “Let me go,” she said coldly. 

He released her and leaned forward on his elbows. “I don’t think your little ‘bad habit’ has ruined you, either,” he said quietly. The corners of his lips turned up slightly. “For what it’s worth from a run-down ex-Templar, anyway.”

She stared at him, tongue-tied with her heart pounding in her ears. The way he was looking at her now, with that tiny hint of a smile and that weary look of wariness in his unnervingly clear grey eyes… 

Fuck, there was a lump in her throat again. She swallowed hard and defensively folded her arms. “So what, you’d still fuck me if I turned into an abomination?” she said sarcastically.

A crooked smile lit his gaunt face. “Sure would be a good way to go.”

She stared at him for a second longer. His stupid sick jokes actually made her want to laugh. 

And for some stupid, sick, fucked-up reason, that just made her all the more eager to leave his company, even though his company was what she’d really wanted all week.

“Whatever,” she grunted, then walked away. 

I should just stop talking to him, she thought. The calm she felt sometimes from being near him was never worth the uneasy irritability that ensued after she left him behind. But she’d spent this whole week feeling increasingly irritable when she was purposely avoiding him… 

She scowled as she made her way to the Hanged Man. This is the problem with liking someone, she thought. These treacherous feelings wormed their way into your brain and made your mood go all over the place, and they made you look like an idiot in front of your friends. And worst of all, they made you so fucking vulnerable.

This only meant one thing: Roman couldn’t fuck Samson again. No matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much her nights were interrupted by thoughts of his tongue between her legs and what he might look like naked, she couldn’t fuck him again. 

I won’t, she told herself fiercely. I won’t do it again, and that’s the end of it. With her resolve grimly set in place, she left the docks – and Samson – behind.

[deans-baby-momma]

The Padackles Link-Chapter 97

Jared's POV

‘Today's outing was fun,’ I think as I watch my extended family enter into the rental. The kids enjoyed the boat ride and seeing my oldest son get excited when he spotted the manta ray made my heart soar. 

The kids were all excited even after we disembarked from the boat, wanting to try and see everything. Even while we were eating, their eyes were taking as much in as they could.

It didn't take much persuasion to get them changed and bedded down so when Drea suggested we test out the hot tub, who was I to refuse? But there was only one problem.

"Pregnant women are advised not to get in one," I tell her but she just smiles that gorgeous smile of hers.

"So," she shrugs. "I won't submerge my whole body. Just me feet…..doesn't stop you all from enjoying it."

I swear the woman has an answer for everything! My heart swells at knowing the mother of my third child is so smart, so knowledgeable and can resolve any problems. 

I watch as Gen strips from her clothes and walks across the room in her birthday suit and I have to admit, my wife is sexy as hell! She is exactly who I dreamed of when I thought of who I would marry and spend my life with.

She has given me two handsome sons and I couldn't be more grateful. After Shep was born though and she developed the bleeding disorder, I know she was scared I would leave her, that she was inferior as a woman because part of her was missing.

But that was the furthest thing from the truth. She is the love of my life and I don't think any less of her. We had two sons, who said we needed more?

But of course, after Danneel gave birth to her and Jay's daughter and then Drea gave birth to Jackson, that baby fever bug bit into Genevieve.

Many nights I comforted her cries as she sobbed for another chance, another shot at being a mother. 

When Gen had first brought up the idea of asking Drea to be a surrogate for us, I was against it. Yes, we'd have another child but she wouldn't be the one carrying it and nurturing it as he or she grew. 

But my wife assured me she didn't have a problem of missing out on those aspects. "Padaleckis are big babies and I really am not going to miss pushing another out of my vagina." She told me.

So we decided to broach the subject with Drea and Jensen. Of course at first he was totally abhorred at the idea until once again, my beautiful wife explained the more clinical side of the procedures of in vitro fertilization.

At that original meeting, none of us were wise to the fact that the injections would fail and now here we are almost a year later, with Drea impregnated by me and the four of us are what is considered swingers. 

My, how life can throw curve balls out of nowhere. But I wouldn't change a single thing. I have my gorgeous wife, my best friend and his...well, she might as well be his wife if he'd just man up and ask her, are all in a committed, sexual relationship. 

"You ready?" Gen breaks into my train of thought. She dons the same yellow string bikini from a few days ago; the one that makes my dick twitch at the sight. A towel lays over her arm as she opens the bedroom door and sashays out. 

"Down boy," I chastise my responsive cock as I watch her hips swing. "Later, we'll pound that pussy good."

The situation in my trunks isn't helped any when we get outside and Drea is sitting there, kicking her feet through the water while talking to Jay. 

Have her boobs grown overnight? They look to be almost overflowing the cups of her swimsuit. And that bump! Her one-piece fits snug against it, making evident that she is pregnant.  She is carrying my child.

Gen and I both slip into the jacuzzi opposite her and Jay.

"Oh my god." I say as the jets begin drumming against my muscles. "Wow,  this is amazing.  We need to look into getting one."

Silence follows as we all enjoy the reverberations against our tired and sore bodies. 

I lift my head and smirk at Jensen. "So 'cheeseburger'?"

I can tell by his smirk in response that he knows exactly what I'm referring to.

“Like I don’t know where ‘salad’ came from? Yea, that’s right. I know what your safe word is too. Got some Sammy Winchester vibes going on in the bedroom huh?”

“So do you Dean. I can’t believe you picked cheeseburger as a safe word,” Jared shakes his head at the absurdity of the subject.

We all take a moment to laugh and then I remember something I'd been meaning to bring up to my co-star since we filmed the final episode.

“Speaking of the Winchesters, I've been thinking. How are they going to explain that Dean actually killed Death? Death is death, you know." I slide away from Gen and closer to Jay.

We discuss the show for a while when something catches my attention. I look from my friend across the water to see the girls caught up in a sensual kiss.

“Holy shit. Looks like we’re going to get a show.” I say, smacking my hand on Jay's chest.

But before it goes any further, Gen pulls away and turns to stare at me. There is an agitation in her glare. 

She turns back to Drea and speaks, “Sorry Drea. Just not in the mood tonight. I’m tired.”

I watch in shock as she climbs out of the water, wraps a towel around her and walks into the bungalow.

“What the fuck was that about? Man, what did you do?” Jay asks, looking at me. “If looks could kill….”

“Nothing that I know of,” I shrug but then it dawns on me. “Shit, what date is it?”

Drea tells me and I nod. “I think it would be almost time for Aunt Flo. She always gets bitchy around then.”

“I’ll go talk to her. Woman to woman," Drea says as she stands up and follows her inside.

"Dude, if I didn't know better,  I'd think Gen despised you. Man, the fire in her eyes," Jay says as he shakes his head and chuckles. "I'm just glad I wasn't on the receiving end of that."

"Yea. Since she had Shep and all that happened, her periods are harder on her. Just give her some space for a little while is what I've learned."

"Are we seriously sitting here talking about menstrual cycles?" Jay laughs out. "Want a beer?"

"Sure."

Gen is sitting up in bed when I walk into the room. She's changed into her pjs but still looking sexy and beautiful. 

Her dark hair is loose around her shoulders and is just a picture of perfection in my eyes.

I, as well as the monster in my shorts, am really hoping she doesn't refuse me like she did Drea. 

"Hey baby," I say as I pull my swim trunks off, my hard cock slapping against my belly. I've always slept in the nude so I climb into bed and go to cuddle against her.

Gen moves and slips out of bed before I can get a good grip on her lithe body.

Ok, surprising but maybe she's cramping. But when she turns toward me I can tell something is bothering her.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

"Why don't you just go kick Jensen out of bed and fuck Drea? She's who you want!"

"What?!" I am dazed. Where is this coming from? "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb Jared Tristan!" She yells. "I'm not stupid. You want Drea! You've always wanted Drea. Man, I should've seen it. You were so willing to fuck a kid into her. Maybe I am the idiot. I played right into it. 

"Oh I bet you just loved that threesome we had. You had her and me there willing to let you fuck us both."

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" I yelled, pissed that she was not only belittling herself but making what we were doing into some torrid affair. "YOU WANTED DREA TOO ! I take a breathe and lower my voice, although I'm still radiating with anger. “If anyone should be upset, it’s me! You fucking Drea isn’t a means to an end! No, that is just for your pleasure!

 "You wanted another baby and you were the one to choose Drea, not me. When we started this, it was the only way to get her pregnant Nothing else was working so I fucked a baby into her, FOR YOU! 

“Sex with Drea was just to give you what you wanted, what you desired. IT had to happen to get a baby. But you and her fucking didn’t have to happen. Rubbing your pussies together isn’t going to put a baby in her. Not that was for your gratification.This-" I point to my now flaccid dick. "-was needed. "

She opens her mouth to respond but there is a knock on the door. Gen moves to open the door and I jump into the ensuite to pull on a pair of shorts. Sure Drea has seen me naked and I'm positive Jensen has but right now didn't call for that.

Zipping them up over my now completely flaccid member, I can hear Jay's voice.  "It is her business,  he said. "You guys are fighting and her name was brought up so I think it the fuck is her-our- business. 

"Now what the hell is going on?" The tone of his voice tells me there is no getting out of this. What was once an argument between two people now involves four.

I walk back into the room and step up behind Gen. 

"Let's take it outside so we don't wake the kids."

I follow as Drea, Jensen then Gen head toward the back patio. I can't help but stare at the back of Gen's head,  trying to figure out how in the world I'd want Drea over her.

As soon as everyone is settled around the table, Jay runs his hands through his hair.

"So this isn't going to work. I thought we were all in agreement; no one would feel betrayed or left out. What happened?" 

All eyes turn toward me and I shrug. I glance Gen's way and she is sitting there silently scowling at the whole situation.

"We each said that feelings wouldn't get hurt and no one would feel betrayed and left out when we starting fucking each other separately. So, I don't understand what happened. Can someone please explain it?" Drea pleads.

That's all it takes for Gen to explode. She is practically vibrating as she sneers. "What happened?! Like you don't fucking know!" 

Drea looks taken aback and hurt by Gen's accusation. "What are you talking about?" I ask, honestly confused. "What did I do?"

But what Gen accuses of happening leaves me speechless. And when she pulls out her phone and shows us the social media post, I am appalled. 

Gen knows that the media and some fans like to stir up conflict and we've always known not to take anything that is put online to heart. No one knows our lives,  they can only speculate and guess.

It is Jensen who speaks and reminds her not to pay attention to the shit put on the internet. He reminds her that he himself has hugged on her in public.

He also gives his point of view on how I acted today, treating Drea with kid gloves.

I take her hand and thankfully she doesn't pull away. 

"He's right babe," I tell her, gently squeezing  her hand. "I love you so much. I would never do anything to ruin what we've worked so hard for. You are my wife and I love that you are the one I get to grow old with."

Gen looks around the table at each of us and the sighs. "I just think we all need to consider everyone's feelings when we're out in public. But I'm done with this. I'm going to bed."

Once again I watch as my wife leaves me behind with our friends as I try to figure out what she means by being 'done with this'. 

Is she calling the whole swinging relationship off? Are we supposed to go back to just being friends? What about the baby in Drea's womb? 

Jay and Drea head off to bed not long after and leave me on the back patio, contemplating how life got so fucked up.

END JARED'S POV

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[sasskarian]

Fanfic Masterpost ... sort of

In honor of Fanfic Appreciation, I put together a list of my fics for anyone who’d like to look 

Under the cut, because length

Dragon Age:

After the Glitter Fades (Glitterverse):  Hawke x Fenris, modern AU. (Long fic, WIP) Hawke and Fenris are movie stars in a torrid love affair. Fenris has a mysterious past. Also Cassandra is investigating a murder mystery? Varric, as ever, is a delight. (*this is borrowed from @nug-juggler‘s excellent and shorter summary!)

Memorable quote:   Fenris observed candidly was something sacred. For a moment, Hawke fiercely wished she were an artist. The scene in front of her was too… every word she could think of— beautiful, elegant, breathtaking— was trite, a pale description of perfection. 

In the Heart of the Woods: Lavellan x Fairbanks rarepair. (WIP) Inquisitor Lavellan’s heart is broken by a certain Commander, Fairbanks has an appreciation for her, and a love story blooms like elfroot in the Emerald Graves.

Memorable quote:   This kiss, she thinks, two mouths moving in perfect unison, is a spell of its own. Not quite love, not yet, but close enough she can pretend it is. Hope wells up, a solid thrum beating in counterpoint to her heart, and for one perfect moment, the world just bows down and… stands still. All that exists, all that ever has existed or ever will exist is wrapped up right here, right now, in Fairbanks’ lips on hers. Motes of dust turn golden in the sunbeams splashing through the roof, and a touch— his thumb, her cheek— says a million more words than words ever could.

Yesterdays: Surana x Zevran, mild Surana x Alistair pining. Post Origins, complete. A Warden’s sacrifice means something only as long as someone remembers it. A king looks back, balancing regrets with happiness.

Memorable quote:   With a half-sob, he realizes he’s forgotten the sound of her voice. Oh, he remembers how it made him feel, all those years ago, all the glorious, shining moments where happiness dwells still. But what she truly sounded like, what sounds she made as she buried herself in books, the snap of her magic, the low buzz of her and Zevran whispering in their tent, all of that is gone. He knows it happened, but the memory is lit dimly in his mind, a torch burned too low to be flame but not low enough for embers yet.

If You Ever Did Believe (for my sake):  Lavellan x Cullen. (On temporary hiatus) A wary Commander. A lost Dalish mage. Two hearts beating alone and exhausted on a battlefield, their only rest coming from each other.

Memorable quote:   “Does your Maker hate us so much?” Isera asked bitterly, and for a moment, Cullen felt as though years had rippled, bringing his past self— still clanking through the halls of Kinloch Hold in Templar plate— and his current together. He’d asked Ser Greagoir the same question once, after a Harrowing went wrong and the body of a former apprentice lay at their feet. So much potential wasted, so much fear in the mages’ eyes after that. For once, Greagoir had shown a hint of emotion, clapping Cullen’s shoulder briefly before walking away, but hadn’t answered.

Voiceverse:  Lavellan x Solas/Dread Wolf. (WIP) Building off of the great works of @khirsahle and @athreehundredthirtythree. All mages are born with a soulmate--a voice they hear in the darkness of the Fade all their lives. The lucky ones find their soulmates and forge a bond strong enough to threaten the very foundations of the Chantry. At least, that's what they claim. So what happens when a Dalish mage hears the voice of their most reviled and feared god shaping her dreams? 

Memorable quote:   Accompanying the thundering voice, great fissures ruptured around her hiding spot, green light streaking upward as they gathered into a roiling cloud. A wave of raw sound— howls, cries, pleas— rolled over her, forcing her to her knees. Iveani clapped her hands over her ears, losing her own scream among the agony thundering through the Fade. All caution, all her hard-won lessons about walking the Fade, vanished into the back of her mind under the need to simply ride out the explosion and survive.

Mass Effect:

Home is Where You Are: Ryder x Jaal (WIP). Ryder didn’t cross two galaxies and 600 years in search of love. But damn if she didn’t find it anyway.

Memorable quote:   “I should take a shower,” he mumbled, as the same time as Sara said, “Would you like to stay?” Both of them broke off, staring at the other, and she laughed nervously. That feeling was back, the one from the tech lab, fragility and strength and affection turned fierce and bright tumbling over and over one other.

A Song of Sea and Stars: Garrus x Shepard x Thane (WIP). Our favorite turian badboy sees right through the mask the galaxy’s most famous Commander projects. Neither of them expected to fall in love on a host of impossible missions. And both are taken by surprise by a pious Drell who steals both their hearts.

Memorable quote:   (He opens his eyes, shocked how it feels to look into her face, intimate and hungry. He hazily notices that up close, her eyes are thulium-gray. There's a hot, tight knot in his chest and she's pressed so close, he thinks he could count each faint freckle on her face.) (They look like tiny stars.) (…there are twenty-eight on her right cheek. Thirty on her left. And fourteen, right across the bridge of her nose.) (Those are his favorite. They remind him of his own markings.)

the sound of shattering glass: Generic Shepard, post-Tuchanka, pre-Citadel II. The Shroud explodes, taking a beloved friend with it. Shepard only has herself to blame.

Memorable quote:   “Damn Reapers,” he said, striving for nonchalance. “Always throwing us around.” “Banged us up pretty good,” she agreed, and he knew she wasn’t talking about their bumps and bruises. “So what do we do about them?” “Get back on our feet. Keep fighting.” Garrus hummed as she shifted closer, pressed her forehead against his neck. “Maybe find a way to use some really big canons I spend half my time adjusting.”

Star Wars:

He Might Like That: Mandalorian x Cara Dune pining. So they argue. So they took down Gideon, and have a magic green frog baby older than both of them. That doesn’t make them a thing. Does it?

Memorable quote:   He tunes back into the not-so-friendly argument in time to hear Greef splutter. “You trash talked while holding hands! If that’s not flirting, I’m a kowakian monkey lizard.” “It was arm wrestling, not holding hands,” Din points out mildly. 

Star by Star:  Post TRoS. Ben x Rey pining, Finn x Rey x Poe. Can three hopeless idiots in love fill a wound as deep as the death of a dyad? Maybe not, but they’re out to try anyway.

Memorable quote:   “You know,” Poe whispers, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “if we ever did tell him we loved him, he’d probably sleep right through it.” Rey touches her fingers to his lips, tracing the shape of his questioning smile. It’s an invitation to play, that smile. A careful offer of love, of comfort. And though she’s not sure if he can really understand when even she doesn’t, she’s finally ready to try a little. 

Counting The Days (Since Exegol): Finn x Rey x Poe, Ben x Rey. Its been 42 days since Palpatine’s death. 42 long days since she felt the surge of light in Ben Solo. And in her dreams, something whispers on the edge of the Force. But she’s shut it down too tightly to hear it. 

Memorable quote:   True to form, Poe can’t resist the urge to kiss away Finn’s troubles whenever possible, and Rey looks away to give them a moment. Some love stories work out, yes, and she loves Finn and Poe more than almost anything else. But that doesn’t stop the way bitterness floods her mouth as the memory of Ben surfaces, and it isn’t until Poe gently squeezes her knee (and she throttles back the near-instinctive urge to break his fingers from a lifetime of fending off handsy scavengers on Jakku) that she comes back to the moment. His brow furrows and she reaches for him, smoothing out the lines of his frown with her thumb. “I’m okay,” she says, answering his unspoken question. It’s mostly a lie, but she has to say it. Most days, she’s okay enough.

A Language Made for Lovers: SWTOR (NSFW). Torian Cadera x Bounty Hunter, gender neutral. Reflections on love and marriage under the glow of hyperspace.

Memorable quote:   He murmurs in your ear, words that should sound harsh in that still-new tongue scalding your mouth, molding you from aruetii to mandalorian. But the love in his voice softens them, steeps them in warmth and adoration. Still the language of a hunter, of those brave souls willing to be reforged, but with a gentle side, a language reserved for lovers. Words like cyare and riduur, words that mean I love you and forever and home.

Malicious Compliance: SWTOR (NSFW). Malavai Quinn x Sith Warrior, gender neutral. Far away, in an apartment no one knows about, a Sith Lord plays dire games of control... and trust.

Memorable quote:   It takes a man with the courage of an entire fleet of Mandalorians to love a Sith, and oh, how he loves you. Like you hung the moons and the stars and all the spaces between. Like you are his other half, like loving you is his sole purpose in life, does Malavai Quinn love you. Your old masters spoke nothing of this, of this enraging hunger gnawing at your bones and curling into the hollows of your rib cage. ... Is it really even love if you don’t want to devour him just a little?

Misc:

Tumblr Prompts: Grab bag of every fandom and series listed above. Prompts filled originally here on tumblr.

Visual Files: Collections of art and commissions from talented friends and artists here on tumblr.

Every Beautiful Thing: Crimson Peak. Thomas x Edith, Edith x Alan. Edith learned, in the dark halls of Allerdale, not to take ghosts lightly. But still she waits, every year, for a chance to see Thomas again. Until the night their son tells her he can see him too.

Memorable quote:   Snow heralds nothing but pain in Edith’s world: first her mother’s funeral, smothered in fat white flakes wet on her lashes like tears, then her father’s. Smaller ones, then, rain slowly freezing and scattering on the ground; the ones that night at Allerdale were the smallest yet, more ice pellet than snow. Jagged, hateful things scraping at her with a cold that burned through skin and encased bone.…God, how she has come to hate the snow.

Where I Can’t Follow: Co-authored by @suspendnodisbelief. show!Witcher, mild Geralt x Jaskier. (Temporary hiatus) Drawing from a variety of inspiration, including greek mythos. Geralt takes a blow meant for Jaskier, finally granted the death by battle he expects Witchers to end by. And Jaskier is not having it, at all. It’s his turn to save Geralt, even if he has to walk the entire bloody underworld to do it.

Memorable quote: “Geralt, get up. Come on, open your eyes. You’re going to upset Roach if you keep this up, and she’ll bite me. You know you aren’t allowed to be dead, because Yennefer didn’t give you permission, and neither did the Princess, and I’m pretty sure they both outrank you.”  

[arda-tourism-board]

My writing (part 1)

I know nobody wants to hear about it, but I've been writing the same stories but slightly to the left each time since 2013 so I may as well share them. I haven't published anything, but i’m hoping to one day.

Also every time i do “quotes” it’s not a quote it’s just words to that effect.

Lillith (part 1)

Lillith (More/many) and Lucian (either enchantment or indebted) (the names were a joke about chosen ones that got out of hand), twin descendants of Arwen and Aragorn, recieve a Silmaril in their parent's will and they now have to hide it. An accident throws them back to the year 2000, before they've even been born, and they suddenly have to navigate the year in a new country, discovering the truth behind their long lost heritage while dodging the unawakened reborn Fëanorions and their "father", Kane Fey.

They start this by almost being run over by Nimrodel, who takes them in for some reason without question.

They don’t recognise them at first in the slightest, and Lucian (now Lukas) strikes up a friendship with “Tyler” before Nimrodel strikes it down.

They manage to befriend them, but things get more complicated when the eldest, "Russell," begins to remember who he was, and seems to recognise Lillith and her real name.

Without the binding of the oath, the Fëanorions are friendlier, less rageful, but their past life haunts them.

Lillith is apparently almost identical to someone they knew in Aman, who had a long affair and children with Caranthir, and disappeared with them around three years before the death of Finwë.

Lillith, who remembers nothing of this, and is most definitely human, is confused to say the least, but they just chalk it down to coincidence.

She and Caranthir - Matt - get closer anyway, but it doesn't work out because she feels he's trying to replace her with her apparent double.

Lucian gets involved with Idrillien - explain later - and begins getting involved with rediscovering their heritage even more. Lillith avoids them due to the political issues surrounding the Silmaril, opting to hide it instead.

Cut to 2020. Lillith has the Silmaril, and an accident occurs where she, her younger self, and her brother, are thrown back in time. This completes the 2020-2000 loop, and starts an 80,000 year loop.

Lillith (part 2) girl falls into middle earth is like, my brand.

Lillith is under a land with only starlight, the desert surrounding her and the only thing in her possession being the Silmaril.

In a fit of madness she eats it (yes I know the plot point is weird but stick with me). This connects her to the two trees, and gives her youth.

She eventually finds her way out of the desert and reaches the path of Eldar heading to Aman.

She joins them, learning the language with them and realising that she's in Arda. This is confirmed when they encounter Oromë, and he points at her and goes "wtf you're not an elf."

She ends up living in Alqualondë, but when she meets a young Morifinwë, she realises that the person she'd been jealous of and thought he was trying to replace her with was herself.

They have three children. Lillith refuses marriage. Marriage would bind her to stay by his side, and she knows what's coming next.

She steals her daughters away to Ennor, and spend the rest of her days in Rhûn, avoiding watching the inevitable.

In the end she falls in love with a Lindi (Nandorin) elleth, Ovranen (abound). Together they travel the world, visiting the most Eastern and Southern continents, eventually returning to Arda and Lillith finally meets Arwen and Aragorn, and finds out the fate of her daughters.

The first, named Helleneth (Sky Maiden), went to Doriath, and met and married Thranduil, a Sindarin Lord. She met her fate to grief from the loss of her fourth child, stolen from the crib (plot point for later on). At this, she confessed her heritage and was banished from Eryn Lasgalen, but an incident meant that everyone thought she was dead. She travelled to the Grey Havens under a new name, Lalyanon (traveller), and sailed home.

The second, named Kemeninya (Earth maiden), stayed in the North, living in Gondolin for a time, but when it fell, ran Northwards, eventually joining with the rangers of the North.

The third, named Rúnanen (freer), eventually rejoined with her father, and joined the Ñoldorin cause. She met the same fate as her father, run through with a sword, but instead dying at the gates of Sirion.

Lillith visits Kemeninya, now going by Dolenath (hidden), and they reconnect.

Lillith and Ovranen then recount their travels for archive, and then continue to travel, never settling down.

80,000 years old, Lillith calls on Nimrodel, and asks her for a favour. Take care of her brother.

Lost

I know crossovers are literally the worst thing in the world but I don't care so you can pry this one from my cold, dead, hands. There’s some romance in this one, but it doesn’t come until much, much, later.

Haruka, a Jedi master, on the run from the Empire, discovers a backwater world where she can disguise herself perfectly. Almost too perfectly. The customs throw her at first but she’s trained to adapt to anything.

She clips a translator to her ear, and she gets a job as a servant in Imladris.

Everyone thinks she's really young, and they're right. She's 32, and elves aren't fully matured until they're 50, but nobody told her that. She wasn't even aware she shared a species with them. Or anyone.

She's more concerned about the fact she needs to hide her left leg because it's made of metal and could rat her out to one of the very criminal merchants that could know about the Empire’s very large bounty on her head.

She does manage to evade the merchants, but when she leaves her leg on her bed at some point she has to explain that,,, maybe she isn’t local.

A diplomatic visit from Eryn Lasgalen in the form of the Crown Prince does change things though. Celeberyn points straight at Haruka and goes “you look exactly like my little brother. That’s weird.”

She’s panicking now because she actually has no idea where she came from, and just nods, and goes, “cool.”

Internally she’s freaking out because he mentioned that said brother had a missing identical twin (yes, you heard me, identical) and now she’s trying to figure out if she’s ok to exist here, cause she’s come across a lot of cultures and there isn’t a 100% track record with that.

After a long day of asking people random questions, she figures out that she’s fine here.

Her translator chip finally breaks (one of the twins stepped on it) and she just doesn’t talk to anyone for a month straight.

She turns 50, and offhandedly mentions it to someone because she’s kinda surprised she hasn’t aged yet and they just go what

Turns out she’s meant to go to school and stuff. And learn to write. That isn’t a class thing here, so they’re super concerned because this is a baby and she only has one leg and can’t write who did this to her

Turns out going “oh yeah I was a general in this war” when prompted to explain the situation has so many questions raised.

Everything is pieced together between her and Lisbeth, the youngest after her, in a clearing.

Turns out Haruka is the long lost twin “prince” of Eryn Lasgalen, stolen by someone looking to make a quick buck by selling her to the Jedi because of her hypersensitivity to the force. (elves are born very far and few between)

She swears Lisbeth to secrecy, but it all comes out when Legolas visits Imladris and demands to speak to her.

Turns out they’re linked, even across galaxies, and whenever she went through great physical or emotional trauma, he felt it, but Haruka learned to block out her emotions a long time ago, so never felt any of his. (Turns out that’s why her phantom pains are so realistic, because she was feeling the sensations on his leg to compensate.)

She is unable to deny the fact of her identity now, but she (rightly) refuses to go by her birth name, mainly because Haruka has been her name from the start anyway (it’s gender neutral).

She decides instead of facing her family, she’ll go back into space (because flat earth arda for elves is a mindset and she’s never even heard of it).

She manages (somehow) to find a merchant, and doesn’t realise she’s been followed by Elrohir until she’s dropped off on Lothal and he taps her on the shoulder like “hey where are we and what are all these creatures i’m scared”

She drags him with her to meet with the new Republic, and she gets a new translator chip, leg, and dyes her hair for fun (this is stressful she deserves the dark blue hair).

They eat lunch at a street café, and have a long conversation about Haruka’s torrid backstory. They don’t bond, but they do become friends.

Before, their dynamic was “random servant number 5″ and “lord” but now it’s “jedi master” and her “friend who only knows three words.”

She offers to take him home, but he declines on the basis that home will be there a lot longer than this will.

They start working together at the new republic. Turns out Elrohir makes an excellent fake body guard (he can fight but that’s not the point), and Haruka helps bring some of the old Jedi practices into the new order.

When the new jedi order falls, Haruka steals as many of the students away and takes them and Elrohir back to Arda.

They chill out in Imladris, hiding out for a few years before Haruka remembers that she left because she was avoiding the whole family situation, and has to confront the fact that she is royalty, and finally meets her dad (her mother’s fate is discussed above).

It goes a lot better than expected. The first thing he asks about is why she’s a woman, and it’s awkward, but they eventually fall into a good conversation.

Haruka thinks, “hey, maybe I can exist here in a family.”

But at the same time she’s got her found family in Imladris (cause you know she basically got adopted the minute she, a child, mentioned that she’d been in a war) (have i read too many salvage fics? yes. will i now compare elrond to hakoda? yes. you saw it here first folks only in this story she’s adopted by the entire serving staff.)

Haruka doesn’t venture to the stars for another for hundred years. For now, she’s just content on Arda. She takes to the stars again sometime after the end of the third age, now bored and eager to explore again. Elrohir comes with her. Together they build a new found family and crew, exploring the galaxy.

Part 2 coming soon

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 9

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~2.9k (this chapter) / ~27.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E TW: mentions of alcoholism

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: In the wake of Lemon's outburst at the club, those closest to her process the fallout and realize something needs to be done before she spirals to the point of no return.

-

“Okay, I think that’s the last box,” Juice remarked as she dropped herself down onto the couch. “So, why’d your cousin kick you out again?”

Lemon scoffed and rolled her eyes as she piled up the empty boxes. “She didn’t kick me out, we both decided it was time for me to move.” She decided her college friend-turned-roommate didn’t need to know about the argument she had with Rosé. And she certainly didn’t need to know that she’d rejected her ultimatum of, “if you want to stay here, you can’t keep getting drunk every day.” It had been a week since the incident at the club and she was going to recover from it on her own terms.

“Alright, cool,” she shrugged as she took out her phone and began aimlessly scrolling. “You wanna do something tonight?”

The blonde perched herself on the armrest of the couch, swinging her legs. “We could go to a club and get shitfaced,” she suggested.

Juice shook her head without looking up from her phone. “You can. I mean, I’ll totally go with you and turn shit up, but I don’t drink.”

“More for me.”

Her friend looked her over with a concerned expression, eyes finally pried away from the screen. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently. “I mean, I know you’ve been through a lot, have you considered talking to someone about it?”

Lemon shook her head. “I’m fine, I don’t have the emotional capacity for therapy.” She got back up and looked around. “Shit, I guess you don’t have any liquor in here then. I’ll be back,” and after putting her shoes on and grabbing her purse, she was out the door, leaving a concerned new roommate in her wake.

------

Rosé sighed as she passed the joint back to Mik. “This doesn’t make me a bad person, right? I mean the last thing I want to do is make Lemon’s issues about me. But god, that really is what made me realize that I have to do this.”

Mik shook her head as she took a hit. “It’s not your fault, you saw a trainwreck and realized you needed to keep your ass on the tracks.” She finished off the joint and put it out. “Listen, the last thing you wanna do is be that girl who pines over the person she’s sleeping with until it’s too late.”

“You’re right, I know. I’m gonna talk to her,” she exhaled deeply as she pushed herself up. “If Lemon comes around, please don’t have sex with her.”

“Oh fuck off,” she huffed, “that delayed her mental breakdown by at least a week.”

Rosé rolled her eyes as she left. She wasn’t mad at Mik for that, if anything maybe it did help Lemon temporarily by giving her a distraction. But she had so much more on her mind, things that have been brewing since the club incident.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked on Denali’s door, evening out her breathing while she waited for her.

“Hey Rosie,” Denali smiled warmly as she opened the door, leading her inside and shutting it behind them. “What’s up? You usually text me when you’re on your way over.” They sat down on the couch as she spoke, a tinge of concern in her voice.

She swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “I know I’ve been distant lately with everything that’s been happening with Lemon. But through all the chaos, I realized something, that keeping your feelings bottled up is dangerous.” Another deep breath, this time she forced herself to look into Denali’s eyes, eyes that she found warmth and comfort in every time she gazed into them. “What I’m trying to say is that I have feelings for you. I don’t just wanna be fuck buddies, it’s not enough. I need all of you.”

Denali blinked, taking her time to process Rosé’s confession. At first it was pure surprise, but once she let it sink in, it clicked that she felt the same way, that she had been falling for her all along without realizing it. “You have all of me,” she told her, cupping her face and pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

In that moment, a weight lifted from Rosé’s chest. If only for the duration of a kiss, she could pretend nothing in the world existed outside of Denali’s apartment. She could stop thinking, stop worrying. It was only them, everything else faded to black. “Are we alone?” she asked against her lips.

“Mhm,” she nodded, a slight smirk tugging at her lips, able to fill in the blanks from there. Her hands traveled down Rosé’s body, tugging off her shirt in one swift motion, her own following suit, though they took their time undressing each other, letting their fingers and lips gently caress each other’s skin.

By the time they were both completely undressed, they had gotten each other thoroughly worked up. Rosé had Denali sit up on the couch, then got on her knees in front of her, pushing her thighs apart. She moved in between them, dragging her tongue along her pussy before circling, then sucking on her clit as she eased a finger into her.

Denali’s head lolled back to rest against the back of the couch, a pleased moan escaping. “Mm, Rosie…” she exhaled, her hips pushing up when Rosé slid in a second finger. “Baby, just like that, feels so good.”

She basked in the praise, continuing her movements, occasionally switching her tongue and her fingers, but never leaving her unattended. She was focused and fervent, bringing Denali to an orgasm as quickly as she could, as if she were setting it as a challenge to herself. Once she’d won her game, she pulled back with a smile, gazing up at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re sappy,” she teased affectionately, leaning down to kiss her. “Come on,” she got up and pulled Rosé to her feet, “we can cuddle until I gotta get ready for my shift.”

------

Nicky watched Jan with a concerned expression. She wished she knew what to do, how to talk to her and help her. Ever since the incident at the club, she had been quiet, withdrawn, two words she would never think to associate with the bubbly woman she loved so dearly. It killed her to see her girlfriend hurting, enough for her to put her aversion to emotional conversations aside as she sat beside her on the couch, gently taking her hand. “Please tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been the same since what happened with Lemon and I’m worried about you.”

Jan chewed on her lip, her gaze downcast. Logically, she knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Lemon is like a sister to me and I’m worried about her. I know what alcoholism looks like… and I know what it can do to someone, it’s not pretty.”

She furrowed her brows, shifting closer to the younger woman. “What do you mean?”

“Well, um…” she swallowed thickly, “my dad’s five years sober now, but it hit a nasty low before it got better. I-I don’t know what that low would be for Lemon, I’m afraid she’s hit it, but I’m even more afraid she hasn’t.”

Nicky nodded as she listened. She had suspected Lemon might have developed a bit of a drinking habit, but not the severity, and certainly not the effect it would have on Jan. “I am so sorry about your father, and about Lemon. Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My dad went to rehab while I was away at college, but I imagine my mom laid down some ultimatums, but I don’t know if Lemon thinks she has anything left to lose.”

“There has to be some way, and I'm going to help you find it,” she promised.

------

“Thank you all for meeting me here,” Juice said as she looked around the two pushed-together tables in the diner. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Julia - Juice - and Lemon moved in with me about four days ago.”

“What happened?” Rosé immediately asked. “Is she okay?”

The blonde hesitated and looked down at the table. “Technically yes, she’s nursing a hangover at home right now but otherwise fine, unless she’s started day drinking. But there’s a bigger issue, and I’m sure you guys have started to suspect as much. What I’m trying to say is she’s developing an alcohol problem, and if we don’t do something about it now, it could get much worse.”

Everyone else had similar expressions - sadness, concern, anxiety. But none of them were surprised. “What do we do, then?” Rosé asked, breaking a tense moment of silence.

“Listen, I’m not claiming to be an expert. I’m twenty-two, sober for eight months now, so I can relate to how she’s feeling. What she’s going to need is everyone to rally around her, because it won’t be easy to convince her to get help.”

“So can we stage an intervention?” Jaida asked. “Do you have someone we can talk to?”

Juice nodded. “I can talk to my sponsor and have her put us in touch with someone who can get her into a detox, put the whole thing together. It goes so far beyond just telling her to stop drinking, especially in a club environment.”

“Speaking of the club environment,” Gigi chimed in, “we have to address the elephant in the room. What are we gonna do about the Priyanka situation? She told Crystal she’s taking a day job until things cool off, but if Lemon gets help… maybe that’ll expedite the process.”

Jackie sighed, but agreed. “I can open auditions to take on another dancer temporarily, I don’t know how long she’s gonna need, but assuming she chooses to get help, I want her to know she has a place to come back to.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m going to reach out to Priyanka too, I know she hasn’t been answering most of our calls or texts, but I think I might be able to get through to her.”

“My god, we’ve been so caught up with Lemon, we’ve barely kept up with Pri. Are we bad friends?” Jan asked, feeling a mix of guilt and sadness.

Juice shook her head. “No, of course not. Everyone here is doing their best. You guys reach out to Priyanka and figure out a way to get Lemon to the intervention when the time comes, I’ll do what I can on my part.” From there, they all just had to hope for the best.

------

Jackie took a deep breath, making sure she was calm and collected before knocking on the door. When a woman with black hair and tattoos opened the door, she greeted her politely. “Hi, you must be Scarlett. Um, can you tell Priyanka that Jackie’s here to see her?”

Scarlett nodded, disappearing back into her apartment. There was a solid few minutes of waiting, but Priyanka eventually came to the door. “Hey,” she greeted meekly and led Jackie inside.

Jackie sat at the edge of the bed in the guest room Priyanka had been staying in. “How have you been? You know we’re all worried about you.”

Priyanka’s gaze never left the floor. She picked pieces of lint off of her shorts as she sat down as well, swinging her legs aimlessly. How could she even begin to tackle that question when everything she had ever known had changed overnight? How can anyone process that sort of thing? “Scarlett convinced me to try therapy. I’ve had a couple sessions so far… It helped, I think, but it’s just scratching the surface, you know?”

She listened attentively, nodding along. “I’m proud of you for that. How did your family react when you and Mark broke up?”

“It’s funny, as angry as he was, he didn’t out me. He said it’s clear I have my own problems to work through. My mom was furious that the wedding was called off, so I threw in the ‘I like girls’ news because, well, it couldn’t get any worse,” she sighed. “I don’t think it’s fully hit her yet. She asked me if it was an excuse to get out of the wedding. I haven’t heard back since I told her it was the truth, and I haven’t heard from my dad at all.” She laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t even say that I’m gay. It’s too much, I can’t just be gay,” she sat back up and grabbed a tissue, quickly dabbing the corners of her eyes. “How do you get past it, Jackie? How do you stop being afraid of yourself?”

Jackie pressed her lips together as she tried to articulate an answer. “There’s no easy solution, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. I don’t think I was ever ready to be gay, one day I just came to terms with the fact that I was miserable trying to avoid my own truth and that the only way I was ever going to be happy was by loving even the scariest parts of myself.”

Priyanka went quiet again, crumpling the tissue in her hand and staring at it as if the answers were there. “So you don’t think I’ll be able to be fully happy until I embrace being gay?”

“That’s for you to decide. But think of it this way; when you think about your future, best case scenario, what is it in your life that’s making you happy?”

The answer for that wasn’t in her hand, it was in her heart. It made its way into her throat, choking her from the inside and making her pulse race. After everything, it nearly made her angry that it felt inevitable. “Lemon.”

------

“Juice just texted me that they’re on the way,” Rosé read off her phone, her free hand squeezing Denali’s tight, her leg bouncing anxiously.

The woman they’d brought in to help Lemon, Widow, nodded calmly. “Remember, at the end of the day we are here to help her. We’re not punishing or lecturing her, but we have to be firm.”

After another review of the plan, they heard the door open and looked up to see the two girls walk in, Lemon’s expression immediately becoming confused as she looked around. “Are you guys fucking intervention-ing me?” she asked as she took the empty seat to the right of Rosé.

“Lemon, your friends and family are here because they care about you and are worried about your health,” Widow explained. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘this bitch wants to send me to some random rehab until I come back sober for good’, but this isn’t like that. We get that you’re twenty-one, fresh out of college, no history of addiction.”

“So why am I here?” Lemon interjected.

Rosé arched her brow. “Well, for starters, you haven’t been sober a full twenty-four hours in nearly three weeks, you’ve been acting completely unhinged every time you get trashed. You’re actively trying to alienate yourself from everyone who cares about you, you-” She stopped short when Denali squeezed her hand, her cue to reel it in. “You’re going down a dangerous path and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“This isn’t one of those ninety-day programs either,” Jackie chimed in. “It’s only three weeks, and the first five days are just for detoxing. We’re not saying you have to be sober for good, this isn’t AA, it’s a program that’s going to give you the support and help you need to still enjoy things in moderation instead of relying on alcohol as a coping mechanism.”

Lemon nodded and listened as the rest of the group said their pieces to try to convince her to go. And she took it in, but she was also looking around and at the door. After a while, it became clear that she was waiting for - hoping for - another person.

“Priyanka wanted to come,” Jackie told her. “But we weren’t sure how you would react and decided it would be better if she waited at least until after you detox to contact you. You have to know, though, she really does care about you.”

She sunk further into her chair, not angry, but embarrassed. It shouldn’t have had to come to this, she knew that, knew better. And she hated that everything they said was right, that she did need help. “Fine,” she mumbled, “I’ll go.”

There was a collective sigh of relief as the tension dissipated throughout the room. “Rosé and Juice will go back with you to your apartment so you can pack, we’re going to get you checked in tonight,” Widow explained. “The facility is in Westchester, you won’t be more than an hour away and visitation is every Saturday.”

Rosé looked at her younger cousin and could tell she was doing her best to cover her fear and anxiety. She wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. “You’re going to be okay, baby,” she promised, “they’re gonna take good care of you, and you’re gonna be better than ever once you’re done.”

Lemon nodded quietly, wiping her eyes. “I just wanna get this over with,” she mumbled, still unwilling to allow herself to be vulnerable in front of everyone, though the group anticipated that from her and let it be. All any of them could do now was trust the process.

[musicloverdani]

A Rant at 53% of the book

So I’m reading A Court of Mist and Fury, the second book in the A Court of Thorns and Roses series, and I am confused. I thought this was supposed to be the good one in the series. 

Now, this might be purely subjective, I am one of the minority who doesn’t like bad boys, and I feel like the bad boy love interest is what makes this book more popular than the first one. 

First off, ACOTAR ruins any good will it had with all of the Under the Mountain bullshit. Amarantha is a disgrace of a villain, and one reason it makes me mad is because I love female villains. There should be more of them, because women are amazing even when they’re evil. 

Also Tamlin, I was kind of feeling how he was kind of awkward but trying, and not in tune with most social cues, but once again we get to the Under the Mountain stuff and any like I had for him went flush down the toilet, because he was just nothing of a male lead. I don’t know if that was purely her intention, because SJM is hinting that Tamlin might go to war to get Feyre back in this book, and it seems like she’s setting up a love triangle. But to be honest, the only love triangle that I can kind of tolerate is the one from The Infernal Devices, and that’s because you can understand the attraction the MC character has for both of her love interests. 

Anyway, I wanted to rant about Rhysand. I thought I liked him. I know, I know, he was a creep and a jerk in the first book, with no good reasons for doing anything he did, because honestly, his plan didn’t really make sense. But in this book, its supposed to be like a Hades and Persephone retelling, which basically gave birth to Beauty and the Beast, so I consider this book to be a soft reboot of the first one, only Rhysand believes in more women’s rights than Tamlin does, I guess. 

But Rhysand and Feyre are terrible, they have no chemistry, and I just finished a chapter where they were arguing because they were jealous of the other flirting with some fae in order to get information that they need to complete the task of this book. And I don’t think its because I know that they’re going to hook up that this whole “will-they-won’t-they” thing isn’t working for me. It’s because its badly written. 

Reason One: Feyre is a terrible main character. Rhys gives her this speech about how Tamlin tried to lock her up because of how special she is, but the only thing special about her is what was given to her. By all the other High Lords, and they find it so curious, but what did they think would happen when they poured magic into a recently dead girl at the same time? But Feyre, doesn’t have a personality. Her whole personality this book has been dealing with the fallout of the Under the Mountain BS, and her feelings for Rhysand, but really nothing else. Her painting passion is gone and she doesn’t have any friends. I don’t understand why she’s the main character. 

Reason Two: Rhysand is not as charismatic as SJM as I want him to be. I would argue that he has no charisma, but that is subjective. Meaning also subject to change since I’m not done with the book. But between Rhys and Tarquin, I know that SJM can write charisma, but she doesn’t do it for Rhys. We just have to rely on that he’s hot, with a torrid past, and Feyre wants to bone him and that’s all. And maybe its because I’m not a straight woman, but I need a little bit more than that if I’m going to swoon. 

So, this turned into a bigger rant than I thought, but I just needed to get it out there because I’m trying to give SJM a chance but, characters are my number one when consuming any entertainment, and I don’t think SJM writes great characters. And if she does, she ruins them with something. 

Also, why is it that she does swear in this book, and it feels natural and not forced, and this is supposed to be “YA”, but in her adult fantasy book Crescent City, she has the characters saying fuck almost every other word? I know its supposed to be a more modern day fantasy but unless someone’s mad, they don’t swear as much as she does in Crescent City, there was a variation of fuck on almost every page. I don’t get it