#ashleigh's covers

[judgingbooksbycovers]

The Crocodile Bride

By Ashleigh Bell Pedersen.

[trulyhblue]

MISS AUSTRALIA (PART ONE)

Katie Mccabe x Aussie!Chelsea! Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, praise kink, angry sex, dom! Katie, sub! Reader, enemies, coarse language, Chelsea mentions, little age gap.

A/N — I know Mackenzie wasn't at Camp but let's just skip past that :)

Masterlist

___________________

The game against Arsenal had been a complete disaster. No one could've prepared you for the monstrosity it turned out to be.

Two days before the long-awaited London Derby, you were in Canada alongside your fellow Australian teammates, basking in the double defeat against your Chelsea teammates Jessie Fleming, Ashleigh Lawrence, and the Canadian National Team. To be fair, it hadn't been all that bad. Some Canadian fans were dubbing it ‘revenge’ after the World Cup, but a friendly was hardly much vengeance in your eyes. They had beaten your B team with their A team, and you had only played the second game alongside the usual starters like Steph, Hayley and Alanna.

By the end of the second game, you had swapped shirts with Jessie, who smothered you in forehead kisses and walked alongside Ashleigh for the lap around the stadium. Steph and Caitlin joined shortly after, both of their jackets covering their sports bras; they had given their jerseys away.

Soon enough, Kyra filtered over. You poked your tongue out to the girl, who giggled and reciprocated the actions before hugging your waist. Dozens of fans banked against the barricade, holding out signs and jerseys to sign. Phones stacked on top of hands reached out as the group of you travelled around the loop. You still had a firm hold on Kyra as you peeled your shirt off, handing it to a little girl with big, bulky glasses. You signed her poster, took a photo, and thanked her before waving goodbye. Your boots had been cuffed and peeling after a nasty tackle by your opponent, so you didn't waste any time in unlacing them and passing them over to a pair of twin girls, who hugged each other and cried at the notion.

Steph and Caitlin mingled with their respected fans while you and Kyra continued to use markers and pens to sign anything that was within arm’s reach.

“Oi, y/l/n!” Caitlin called out, your head turning toward the girl who stood a few feet away. “C’mere, look at this.”

Kyra waddled beside you as you made your way over to where Caitlin had pointed. You couldn't help but notice the slight huddle of fans that had accumulated in that spot, several cameras filming the interactions with cheeky smiles decorating everyone’s faces.

You caught sight of the massive poster, reading it with a blank expression, knowing the cameras were trying to catch your reaction. The sign was coloured in red and blue, with a photo of you on one side, and none other than Katie McCabe on the other. You tried hard to conceal the scowl on your face, hiding behind a sly smirk. You ran your hand over the writing: ‘YELLOW CARD DERBY’

It was no secret that both you and McCabe had a notorious reputation for receiving yellow cards from referees. It was a running joke in the Football community, starting from when you had your debut for the Matildas at fourteen, against Ireland. Katie had gotten a card that game too, both of you receiving it for tackling one another. You played for Sydney FC before you moved to Chelsea, playing your debut match against Arsenal six months after your seventeenth birthday.

Katie had been sent off that match for nearly breaking your ankle, a red displayed in the air before she stopped off with a heated scowl across her face. You knew of her reputation from International games, recalling the older woman as an aggressive little shit that hated you for no reason.

London Derbys started to become all the more heated. After a while, both sides tried their hardest to not put you on at the same time, pressured into thinking that they’d end up being a player down due to your rivalry.

It got so bad that people started picking sides. Dividing the two London teams and causing hate to spread. You were younger than Katie by six years, which seemed to be the leading factor in why people believe that Katie is too harsh. On the other hand, Arsenal supporters reckon that you are immature on the pitch. In prior matches, you had been called a whinger, especially when you were around your sister-like teammate, Hayley Raso.

It is safe to say that you and Katie were not on agreeing terms, even off the pitch, with mutual friends to keep you at bay. You both competed for everything. You were neck and neck in the Ballon d'Or, scoresheet, heat maps, everything. It didn't matter if you weren't playing against one another, you were always compared.

But it didn't seem to bother either of you. In fact, you were certain Katie enjoyed it.

You did too.

“Do you agree with it?” Steph laughed beside you, swinging her arm around your shoulders, pointing towards a printed photo of you pushing Katie to the ground, blood smeared across your nose and lips. Beside it was another photo of the referee pointing towards both of you with red cards. You were looking at Katie with utter turmoil; your Australian Jersey was covered in mud, hers had streaks of dirt covering her socks, and a testing smirk written across her face. Behind the pair of you was a younger-looking Steph, her hand covering the shock on her face.

“None of those were my fault.” You answered, watching as the huddled crowd around you chuckled at your response. You didn't want to say the wrong thing, you didn't know if what you said was that funny. “I promise I don't do it on purpose.”

“Oh, yeah, right, Little Miss Goody-Too-Shoes.” Caitlin scoffed, poking your side. “I've seen you play, you're a ride-off.”

Kyra giggled like usual, swaying her hips into yours. She pointed towards the red card photo. “I don't remember that being an accident.”

You don't exactly know why, but your cheeks are stained a solid red, staining your freckles with a tint of embarrassment. Katie had pushed you over, laughing when your face met the cold, wet mud. It was not a pleasant memory you look back on fondly. “Shush, Ky.”

You felt a presence behind you lifting you up by a grip around your waist. You were pulled onto the shoulders of Macca, earning a yelp to sound from your lips, the interaction leaving fans laughing even more.

“Oh, Baby, what's wrong?” Macca said teasingly, holding your thighs with her hands. You looked down at her and frowned, the team’s nickname for you left you feeling a tad humiliated considering it was in front of people who didn't know of the handle. Kyra took out her phone, taking a few shots of the sight with the intention of putting it in her photo dump.

When Macca caught sight of the poster, she cracked up. “Oh God, that's good.”

“Put me down, Mackenzie.” You groaned, kicking your feet half-heartedly into her side. The Keeper did as she was told, but made the show of huffing and puffing as she let you off her shoulders.

“Do you want me to sign it or something?” You said to the boy holding the poster, watching as his eyes lit up as he nodded.

“Are you a Chelsea or Arsenal fan, mate?” Steph asked him, waiting as the boy shook his head.

“West Ham.”

This made Mackenzie’s head snap towards him. “Really?”

“Yeah, who the fuck supports West Ham?” Caitlin questioned, yelping when Steph whacked her in the chest. “Language, Cait.”

“You're a real one, mate,” Mackenzie said, walking up to the boy and hugging him, making him smile like it was Christmas.

“Who do you think’s gonna win on Saturday?” Kyra egged on, shoving past Macca and grinning at the boy, indiscreetly pointing towards herself and the other Arsenal girls.

The boy looked between them and shrugged, folding his sign back up when you finished signing it. His eyes landed on you. “Well, you're my favourite player, but Chelsea are always too cocky.”

“No lies said.” Kyra said, yearning you to push her playfully.

“What if I score a goal, will you go for me then?” You asked, holding out your hands.

The boy nodded. “Yeah, but that's if you get past Katie.”

You couldn't help but scoff, shaking her head. The girls around you smirked at your competitive nature, sharing knowing looks.

“I don't remember the last time McCabe scored against me.”

***

You were glad that at least you kept that statement true.

The video of you reacting to the poster had gone viral, and everyone found the interaction utterly hilarious. Not only did you have a reputation for cards, but you also had one for being a sub in important games like this.

But that assumption didn't seem to make an appearance today, as you waited in the tunnel beside Jessie, holding the hand of a little girl, waiting as you caught sight of Caitlin in front of you

“Are you alright?” Sam muttered, turning to face you with an inch of worry apparent in her eyes.

You looked back at her, nodding. “Yes, just tired.”

You said this in truth. You hadn't had much sleep over the past week due to the different time zones you were living in. Sam had an injury during the Friendly, therefore not being able to compete alongside your Matildas team. But the fatigue was apparent in everyone’s eyes. You even noticed it in Kyra when you saw her on the bench as you walked towards your starting position.

The fans were screaming at the tops of their lungs, but you slowly drowned them out as you honed in to concentrate. You looked to your left, finding Jessie throwing a thumbs up towards you. You smiled back at her, gulping down the last of your anxiety before the whistle blew.

You knew this would be a hard game before it even started, but Arsenal’s level of aggression was completely unexpected.

Fouls were handed out left and right, followed by a bit of push and shove from either side. You fought your way up and down the wing, waiting for an opportunity to surpass. Both teams were angsty with the ball, throwing easy chances away as the crowd grew in volume.

Sam hadn't come down to defend like she usually does, instead waiting past the halfway mark as the midfield continued to pass to and fro.

You grew annoyed at the lack of ball time you were receiving, even when you made a point to be out and open near the corner. Your breathing was ragged and tested, your patience running thin when the crowd of Chelsea players swarmed Victoria Pelova and leaving Beth Mead to shoot in the open.

“There were four of you, for fuck’s sake.” You muttered, dragging your hands over your face as you sighed, returning to your starting position once more.

It started to become ridiculous when you still hadn't received the ball, yelling out on the wing as the minutes passed with Arsenal in front. You hadn't been in the midst of any tackles or gameplay until the thirteenth minute when one of your teammates crossed the ball to you over the halfway line.

You dragged your feet across the ball, feeling the grass hit your feet as you sprinted toward the goal. You stepped past Lotte Wubben-Moy, leaving an open space to slot it through toward Kaneryd.

The ball had left your feet with a concentrated pass before your balance was cut short. A potent force left your legs to crumble beneath you. Your body collided with another, leaving your lungs without any air. Your head spun with nausea, the speed at which you were taken out leaving you heaving for breath. It took you a few moments to register the figure you had landed on, and how the crowd went wild at the shot that had passed Zinsberger.

“I’d never thought you liked being on top, y/l/n.”

The voice made your stomach churn even more.

“Surprised you have enough brain cells to think, McCabe.”

You rolled off her with a groan, your legs aching from the impact. You felt the hands of one of your teammates soothe the distant pain in your head, causing you to roll onto your back.

Instead, you were met by a red jersey. “You alright, Baby?” Steph asked, helping you up.

You didn't have time to answer Steph. She was bombarded with a shove from Lauren James, who turned to the ref with her hands in the air. “That’s a red, ref! The ball left her feet!”

“James, do not yell at me.” The referee fired back. “McCabe, this is your first and final, am I clear?”

McCabe shrugged her shoulders. “I slipped.”

Lauren looked like she was about to pounce. “Oh, you little-”

“What, eh?” Katie walked up to challenge the girl back. “Can Miss Australia not speak for herself?”

Kim Little, Arsenal’s captain, appeared in the mix. “Katie, that's enough! Walk away.”

“Can't handle a tackle, what a baby, shouldn't be on the field—”

“McCabe!” Kim snapped, which shut up whatever rant Katie was about to begin.

The ref turned towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder. The action was met with Arsenal boos. “Y/l/n, are you alright?” Looking concerned at your pained countenance. Lauren rubbed a hand across your back, eagerly awaiting the card Katie deserved.

“I’m fine.”

Maybe you shouldn't said no — maybe that would've landed Katie with a card. But you knew you’d be sent off if you did. You had just scored an assist to level your team. Katie McCabe of all people was not going to ruin that.

The game continued, your left ankle feeling tampered with as more tackles progressed.

It was clear that Arsenal were hungry for this win, leaving Chelsea left and right with calculated footwork and sprints across both their defensive and attacking lines.

When an Arsenal corner arrives shortly after, you run back to defend the post alongside Jessie. Steph is walking to take the corner with the ball in her hands, giving both teams time to find their spot in the box. Pelova was in front of you, Russo to your right. The majority of your midfielders banked against the goal in an attempt to stop the chances of Arsenal moving up two-one.

Steph was about to kick when you felt someone against you. Unknown hands grip your hips tightly, maneuvering them with ease that your body was stuck to them. Your breath hitched when you were pushed forward, forced to leave your place by the post.

“Miss Australia bent over for me?” The voice whispered, pricking the alcove of your neck. “With all these people watching? Guess she's not as innocent as everyone thinks.”

You weren't watching Steph’s long shot into the box, too angered by Katie to care. You didn't notice Amanda Ilestedt’s header into the middle of the goal, hitting the back of the net with a swoosh, met by North London cheers. Hell, you didn't fucking notice anything except Katie falling to the ground, your arms propelling her with so much force you fought to hide the flame that hindered your cheeks.

The whistle blew, causing celebrations to halt when both teams found the two of you glaring daggers at one another.

“Get off her, Y/l/n,” Wälti called out, running towards you and pushing you backwards.

“Nah, what a fucking ride-off.” You heard another Arsenal player say, making you stomp in the opposite direction, huffing in annoyance when the referee called you back.

Kim Little and Sam Kerr were standing by their respective players when the referee was scolding the two of you. It was obvious that you were painted as the immature one since it was made out that you needed to control your emotions more.

“I won't have you manhandling each other like idiots on my pitch. You play fair or you don't play. Understood?”

The four of you mumbled your understanding, filing back into place begrudgingly. Sam was ordering Jessie to swap with you, but you found yourself shaking your head, promising her you’d pull it in.

Turns out, you didn't.

The same circumstance of you pretty much skin-on-skin with Katie happened after Alessia Russo’s chip against Berger. 3-1 for an undefeated team was embarrassing, and no matter how many times you fed the ball well enough to become an assist, the communication just wasn't there.

“Get the fuck off me, McCabe.” You seethed, trying your best to squirm your way out of her grip, but to no avail.

“You need to stop all that wriggling, Y/l/n,” Katie responded, the smirk on her face was evident even from behind. “Those red cheeks couldn't have been from running.”

“I’m not red.”

“Ha, yeah, you and London both.”

Katie and you both got your yellow cards in the second half.

You knew people would find it funny online — the fact that you both got it at the same time — but the game felt like it had gone on forever, and at this point, all of Chelsea’s players were defenders.

You had a clear shot of the goal after Niamh Charles curled the ball to your wing, leaving you and Katie battling for possession near the sideline.

You couldn't help but notice how high her hands had gotten on your waist. Your knees were bending slightly so you could attain more balance, but maneuvering past Katie was a challenge, and proven extremely difficult.

You let out a struggled breath, angered at the lack of options your teammates offered due to their attacking absence. The ball beneath your feet went back and forth between the women in front of you. The two of you were complete mirrors of each other, both trying to nutmeg the other or humiliate them in some way. It was as if minutes had gone past when everyone was watching the two of you battle it out. It wasn't until Jessie came up behind the two of you, threading the ball out from beneath McCabe’s feet and dribbling it away that it seemed to have stopped.

You blanked when you saw Katie stretch her leg out, tripping Jessie onto the floor; leaving her limb on the grass.

“You’re such a cheat!” You exclaimed, pushing Katie with your hands. “You’re a fucking cheat, McCabe, and you know it!”

Katie surged towards you, her breath thick against your face. Your shirt was taken into her hand. She was so much taller than you. “Imagine needing your girlfriend to win your battles for you.” She spoke, her tone condescending. “The score says it all, Miss Australia. If only you weren't so distracted by me, you’d realise.”

She was looking down at you now, holding your shirt so tightly you knew that if you moved, she’d pull you right back in. Her accent was coarser than usual, sending you into a frenzy of disarray and warmth. She was towering over you, her build similar yet broader. Her smirk was minuscule, but prominent all the same. You knew you had lost the game, but you weren't going to lose this fight.

“And where’s your girlfriend, McCabe? Is she somewhere in the stands?”

You were pulled apart but Kim and Sam, the referee tramping over at the sight of the pair of you bundled up. The presence of the yellow card was something you expected, but not rewarding whatsoever.

“Get off my player, McCabe,” Sam ordered, holding a protective arm over your shoulder. Somehow, you knew what she was thinking, peeling your Captain’s arm away from you and marching off. In the distance, you could hear Katie speaking. “She's a big girl, Kerr. I promise it's never on purpose.”

Of course, she was mocking you, you thought. Of course, she saw the video.

You were replaced by Guro not long after that. The Chelsea cheers did not seep through your irritated exterior. Your head was pounding from the fall you had at the start of the game, and you winced at the tinge in your ankle as you ran off to hug Guro.

Emma Hayes strolled up to you, placing a stern hand on your shoulder. “I want you to cool off before you come back and sit down. You're going to shake each of those girls’ hands before you go home tonight.”

Without a second thought,, you stomped down the tunnel, making a point to let your metal studs echo all the way to the changerooms. At twenty-two years old, you had the most yellows in the WSL for your age. If the stats were compared, people would argue that you were higher than most of the older girls.

It was nothing you were proud of, despite the effortless compliments you gained for being potent in your determination to win. But you had been told by almost every coach that you could be too aggressive.

You kicked off your boots, peeling off your shin pads and socks to reveal the nasty bruise that was already blossoming on your ankle. Removing your clothes, you engulfed the hot spurs of water that left the shower head in Emirates Stadium. There was still half an hour of the game left when you were subbed off, so you made sure to take your time washing yourself from head to toe, soaking in the warmth that relaxed the tension in your muscles.

You replaced your game kit with some Matilda's trackies and a fitted tee. Combing your hair into a pony, washing your face with freezing cold water, you waited for your team to arrive from the game, feeling defeated and unprepared for the beating they were about to receive from Emma.

The changing rooms blocked out most of the noise from the game above, except from the thundering rumble of Alessia Russo chants that boomed after five minutes of waiting. You knew that had scored just by the sinking of your gut. The jetlag and fatigue were starting to hit you now, and you had half a mind to just pack up and go home. But you remembered Emma’s words to you before you stormed into the changing rooms. You knew she’d have your neck at training for the next three months if you didn't do as you were asked.

So you stood up, slotting your phone into your pocket, making your way back through the tunnel. The volume of the crowd was starting to get louder, and with each step you took, the less you felt inclined to follow through with the orders you were given.

You were about to turn the corner that led to the field when you were pushed back against the wall, your arms pinned above your head, your body caged in by someone tall and firm.

“Are your cheeks always so red, Y/l/n? Cause every time I see you, you look like you're on fire.”

“Piss off, McCabe.”

Katie was towering over you, unpinning your hands from their place above your head, leaning down so that you could see every detail of her face.

“You're free to go.”

“You're a right pain in the arse.”

She was laughing at you now. “Am I bothering you, Miss Australia?”

“Stop calling me that!” You knew your cheeks were flaming now but you couldn't help it.

Katie grabbed your face with her hand harshly, pulling you closer so that you were forced to look her straight in the eyes. “No, you don't like that?” Her hips met yours, and you squirmed. “What about Baby, eh? Everyone seems to call you Baby. You act like one so I guess it suits.”

“Katie—”

“Oh, so you're calling me Katie now, are ‘ya? I call you Baby and you call me Katie, is that what's happening?”

“No.”

Katie scoffed, placing her knee in between your thighs, keeping you planted between her. You had nowhere to put your hands, so you decided behind your back was appropriate. You felt the subtle movements of her knee in between your legs, her eyes watching for your reaction intently.

“No?”

You watched her head move down to your ear, her breath fanning across your neck. Her lips gradually grew closer to your pulse point, where goosebumps poured over your skin. When the warm sensation of her lips met your neck, your body subconsciously relaxed on her knee, making you jolt at the sudden friction applied to your core.

“Yes.” You ushered, pulling your hands out awkwardly as your neck reclined against the wall, your face etched to the ceiling. You were so, so stupid. What were you thinking?

“Yes… what?” You heard her say, her tongue swirling across the harsh mark she just made below your ear. You hesitantly fell back down on her knee, holding in the groan that yearned to leave your lips. This time, as you tried to regain the dispersing shards of your dignity, lifting your heat off her knee, her hands moved to seize your waist, pushing your hips down to roll against her knee.

The motion made you whine. “Yes, Katie.”

The woman chuckled as she coerced your hips back and forth, sucking and licking down your neck and across your collarbone. Feeling a slight ache from the game she just played, the sensation of the majority of your body weight rubbing against her knee made the Arsenal Victory even more triumphant.

“Is this okay, Baby?” She asked, leaving your neck cold as she waited for your response. You were so tired from the past few days that you slumped on Katie’s knee, waiting for her to continue kissing and moving you as she pleased.

“I need to shake people’s hands.” Your voice was meek but clear.

Katie looked at you, taken aback. “What?”

You wrapped your arms off her shoulders, holding them together in front of you. “Emma told me I need to shake everyone’s hands after the game is finished. She’ll be really angry if I don't.”

Katie’s smirk was back. “Will she now?”

You, too exhausted to realise she was egging you on, nodded. “Yes. So I have to—”

“Shake my hand?”

“Yes.”

Katie leaned in, raising her eyebrows. “What if I don't want to shake your hand?”

You were evidently stumped at the question, pursing your lips as you struggled to find a response. Katie's smile grew, and you grew bitter.

She moved to kiss your neck again to silence your upcoming retort. “What will Hayes do if you don't shake my hand, hm? She’d be so disappointed in you, wouldn't she?”

You tried to focus on anything but her lips led closer to your breasts. “McCabe, I need to—”

“What are you going to tell her, hm? When she asks you if you shook my hand, are you ‘gonna tell her that you tried to get off on my leg instead?”

You were at loss for words. Was she wrong? Of course, she wasn't. Katie McCabe was never fucking wrong, and here you were, pathetic on her knee, about to get off to your enemy calling you Baby, when you tell her you need to shake her hand. You really were a baby.

“Is that what you're going to say to her, Baby?”

“N-no.”

“Why not? It's the truth. You wouldn't want to lie, would you?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“I'm not going to tell her that.”

She must've caught onto your honest dispute, slowly dragging her knee directly onto your clit and rubbing circles over it. You didn't expect her movements, so you moaned, pulling your head into her neck and breathing heavily.

You were so out of breath it wasn't funny. “I’m- I told Jessie I’d spend a night at her house.”

“I didn't take you for the cheating type, Y/l/n.”

“She's not my girlfriend.”

Katie slowed down her movements. “I ‘spose you weren't thinking you’d get off with her knee tonight, would you?”

“No, we were just going to watch a movie.”

“How ‘bout this?” She whispered, pushing your hips against the wall. “You go and shake everyone’s hands like a good girl and I’ll treat you like one afterwards.”

You groaned when she pulled her knee out from under you, feeling your inner dread grow when you heard the full-time whistle and a tsunami of cheers.

“We won 4-1.”

“Still second on the ladder.”

“You have bite for someone who was just moaning fully clothed.”

“Goodbye, McCabe.” You snapped, trying to act Almighty and unbothered by the longing in between your legs. You had to double-check that nothing had leaked through from how wet you were, trudging up the tunnel without a second glance back.

When you found yourself on the pitch, you made a point to shake each of the Arsenal player's hands, including the ones on the bench, which had been nothing short of mortifying. Almost all of them looked at you strangely, trying to push past the obvious awkwardness and reciprocate the sportsmanship, except for the Aussie girls, who hugged you and offered warm conversation with the buzz of their victory.

“Is your ankle okay?” Caitlin asked, pulling you out of an embrace with worry smeared across her features.

You nodded, showing her the bruise by moving your sock. “Yeah, just some bruising. You guys played really well.”

Steph did the same: hug and condolences, while Kyra was completely opposite.

“LONDON IS RED!” She screamed, laughing when she mounted your back from behind.

“Get off, loser.” You retorted, pulling her into a hug as the two of you met in the middle of the field. You knew heaps of people were waiting for signatures, but you didn't care.

“What’s all over your neck?” She asked, grabbing your jaw and observing the fresh marks.

Shit, you thought, recalling the sensation of Katie’s lips tugging at your skin.

You pulled away, hoping distance would lessen the stringency of them. “I think it was from the grass. Y’know, when I fell.”

“Oh, don't worry, I know.” Kyra giggled, seemingly too full of energy to remember what she said two seconds ago. “You need to take a chill pill, Y/n/n. I’ll be sending you all the TikTok edits of you and Katie when I get home, don't you worry.”

“Please don't.” You muttered, holding out your hand to interlock it with Kyra’s. “Are you going straight home or?”

Kyra chuckled. “After this win? No fucking way.”

“You're still second on the ladder.” You reminded yet another Arsenal player.

Kyra poked her tongue out. “Boo, you whore.”

Kyra left you to celebrate with her teammates, marking her as the last Arsenal girl you needed to shake hands with.

You walked back into the changing rooms with an impassive frown on your face. Lots of the girls were already in the showers, Jessie among the few that had already finished and changed.

“We still up for tonight?” You asked, hoping your prior plans that you made before the game were still available after the thrashing they had just endured.

Jessie nodded, pulling you into a hug. “Sam, Millie, and Erin are all going to the pub to have a drink. They want us to come with them, you in?”

“Why not?” You replied, kissing the girl’s forehead before packing your bag.

You were glad that you were going out with your teammates instead of caving and finding Katie. But something deep down made you ponder whether what just happened was a one-off thing.

Spoiler: it wasn't.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I'd love to know how the cover date with A-Town actress Ash Lewis and Tom went down. What did they talk about? Were they friends by the end, do they stay in contact? Did they and their partners meet up before or after? What does Ash think about her role and meeting the inspiration for it?

[For those of you just tuning in: A-Town is the shitty postwar sitcom inspired by the life of Jake Berenson, to the eternal annoyance of Jake Berenson. Ash Lewis plays the main character's older sister Daisy, a dumb blond lacrosse player controlled by a yeerk named Zeptron 420.]

This whole thing felt like going to senior prom.

Not that I’d ever actually been to senior prom.  There'd been a show of sending me, Essa 412 giving Mom and Dad the runaround even to the point of getting the yeerk inside Vi Alden to show up in a dress.  30 seconds out the door, the formalwear had been swapped out for jeans and dracon rifles; our bodies had spent the night clearing wildlife out of a build site in the hopes of giving the “andalite bandits” nowhere to hide before the new community center opened up.

But I’d seen enough movies to know that this was how prom was supposed to work: A limo out front, a flower in my hand, a terrifyingly beautiful woman standing at the end of my parents' driveway.

Ashleigh Lewandowska wore a shimmering strapless gown in a color somewhere between gold and silver and lilac and rose, depending on how it caught the light. The silky fabric could only have been custom-sewn for her body, from the perfect way it hugged her curves and cut high enough in front to show one knee before trailing down in the back to an inch above the ground.  Jessica Rabbit come to life, and then melded with Jessica Alba.

"Hi," I said, smiling awkwardly. “You look amazing." I handed her my sprig of lilies, feeling like I was putting a Pokemon sticker on a bottle of champagne.

“You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” she said.

I glanced down at my own attire.  We’d gone for a deep purple button-down and a charcoal gray suit, but skipped the tie and cuff links.  Allegedly this was the fashion right now.  “Thanks,” I said.  “I should hope so, since my cousin spent the last week using me as her personal Ken doll.”

She laughed.  “Welcome to Hollywood.”  She stuck out a hand, silvery bracelets jangling.  “Call me Ash.”

I shook gently.  “Tom.  Nice to finally meet in person.”

There was a blinding flash; I flinched in surprise, but Ash turned automatically toward the light.

“Wow,” I said loudly.  “After all your whining about paparazzi, you go and join them.”

Jake stepped up next to me, stuffing the disposable camera into his hoodie pocket.  “It’s not paparazzi-ing if I don’t publish the photos,” he said.  He stuck out his own hand.  “I’m Jake.  Big fan.”

Ash laughed, taking his hand.  “Ash.  And I’m a big fan of yours.  Besides...” She looked over at me.  “Aren’t photos the whole point of the evening?”

“Yeah.”  I smoothed down my jacket, even though I had Rachel’s assurances it hung perfectly.  “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Shall we, then?”  Ash gestured to the limo.

“Uh.”  I lunged to open the door for her, although I could tell from her laugh that that wasn’t what she’d meant.

Ash slid into the limo, scooting down the seat so I could perch next to her.

“Have him home before nine,” Jake called after us, “and don’t drink the jungle juice!”

I flipped him off before pulling the door closed behind me.

In cool interior of the limo’s passenger compartment, Ash’s presence was even more overwhelming.  She was stunningly beautiful with her delicate updo of blond curls, her full figure accentuated by the dress’s curves, her flawlessly smooth skin.  But there was an untouchability, a faint unnaturalness, about her beauty.  It was less like being on a hot date, more like being in the presence of an alien goddess.

Maybe it was just that I knew for a fact she had no interest in men.  Lack of attraction was always going to be a turn-off.

“So.”  She shifted to sit across from me, leaning forward to brace both hands on her knees.  “Some ground rules.”

“Yeah.  I’m listening.”

She shook her head.  “I mean we both set ground rules.  This is improv, but improv never means anything-goes.”

“Improv?”

“An improvisational performance.  We have the outlines of what we’re doing, and we’re making it up as we go.”

“Ah.”  The car lurched as the driver pulled away, causing me to slide sideways on the seat when I didn’t catch myself in time.  Ash put out a hand as if to steady me, but pulled back when she saw I was good.

“Sorry.”  She shrugged.  “No seatbelts in limos.”

“All right, I’ll start there.”  I shifted in my seat.  “My reaction time is complete crap.  I assume you’ve done a fair bit of reading about zombies for the role?”

She twitched a little at zombies.  “I’m not claiming to be an expert.”

“Sure.  What you should know is that that much of the stereotype is true, at least for me.  I’m slow to respond to pretty much anything sudden, and one way that shows up is I’m terrible with facial expressions.”  I gave her an apologetic smile.  “I’m going to do my best to sell this, but you’re going to be carrying most of the weight.”

“Ah, so you’re a bad actor.”  Ash nodded with mock solemnity.  “That, I can work with.”

“Cool.  Just think of me as your extremely well-dressed cardboard cutout,” I said.

She laughed again.  “Okay.  And I’ll keep in mind that I shouldn’t necessarily check on your face to see if you’re interested in something.”

“Yeah.”  I made an open-palm gesture to her.  “‘preciate it.”

“For me...”  She held up a perfectly manicured finger.  “No touching of boobs, hips, or butts—”

“God no!” I blurted.  “Uh, no offense, but...”

“Goes both ways, good, got it.”  She held up a second finger.  “Closed-mouth kissing on the cheek or maybe the neck is okay with me, if and only if it’s okay with you.”

I thought about it.  “Let me ask Bonnie?”

“Totally.  And for the record, I already ran all this by Sierra.”

“Cool.”

I tapped out a text as Ash rummaged in the giant handbag that sat next to her minuscule purse on the seat, finding her own phone.

“Bonnie’s fine with that,” I said when I got a reply.  “But I’ve been told not to fall in love with you, and also called a ‘narcissist’ three times in four texts.”

Ash gave a tinkling little laugh, one hand coming up to cover her mouth.  “I’ll have to meet this Bonnie.”

I glanced up at her.  “Totally incognito double date, next weekend at Shake Shack?”

“Let me text Sierra,” she said.

Sierra was in, it transpired.  And we hammered out most of the rest of the rules: arms around the shoulder or waist were okay, sitting in laps a no-no.  Splitting a dessert was fine, putting two straws in one drink a little too far.  Holding hands was encouraged.  We’d tell anyone who asked that we were friends, and if pressed to elaborate would say we were friends getting dinner together.  We’d tell the truth about our names, and the fact that we’d met through Ash’s research for A-Town.

I was allowed to make jokes about dating my double, but strongly discouraged from expressing an opinion about A-Town or about Ash’s character Daisy.  If all else failed, I should claim I had never seen the show but I’d heard a lot about it and was planning to check it out in the future.  If anyone planted the suggestion that we were at dinner because I was helping Ash with her research, I was to encourage the idea without confirming it.

Also, whenever possible, I’d be letting Ash do all the talking.

“You ready?” Ash asked.

I glanced out the window, surprised to discover the limo had pulled up at the curb.  She was easy to talk to, for a superhero princess in an outfit that cost more than my car.

“Will there be photographers right away?” I asked.

She nodded.  “Probably.  This place publishes its guest lists, which is part of why I made the reservation here, but it also keeps in business through requiring a level of respect from the hangers-on.”

“Cool.”  I smoothed my hands over my pants.  I was so glad we’d cut off my hair down to its usual buzz; trying to mess around with the loose poof of curls I wore it in at college would’ve given me too many opportunities to fidget. Same reason I'd left the glasses at home.

“Hey.”  Ash put her hand gently on mine.  “Thanks for doing this.”

I smiled up at her.  “What, pretending that I’m in any way desirable enough to attract a Hollywood A-lister?  Yeah, the impact on my reputation is gonna be a real hardship.”

“‘A-lister’ is definitely overstating it.  And you know what I mean.”

I did, of course.  Ash was aspiring for fame, anyway, and she’d attracted a good few offers for small film parts through her work playing fake-me on A-Town.  But if she had any hope of a film career, no one could know about her quiet long-term relationship with another woman.  There couldn’t even be rumors.  Not in that direction, anyway.

There were rumors already, as it stood.  Which is why Marco had texted us both to set up this little pantomime.

We were here to make a new batch of gossip.  Through manufacturing a story too odd, too delicious, too ridiculous for the press to pass up: the actor who played a fake version of Jake Berenson’s sibling on TV, entering into a fling with Jake Berenson’s real-life actual sibling.  In reality Ash’s character was only loosely inspired by yours truly, there having been no actual research involved in the construction of Daisy A or Zeptron 420.  But the fact that Ash played me on television was going to be too delightfully ironic for most tabloids to pass up.

“Good to go?” Ash asked.

I nodded.  “Just like we practiced.”

“Something like that.”

She leaned to the far side of the car and swung the door open.  I expected her to get out right away, but she made a whole production of swinging one leg out the door and planting her foot on the ground.  She left it there for a few seconds before she curled a hand around the door frame and slowly pulled herself out of the car, posture careful and head high.

“It’s Ash Lewis!” Someone called from outside.  And then there was an explosion of overlapping sound.

Ash turned, making eye contact where I still sat.  She winked.

Swallowing, I scooted over.  She put out her hand, and I took it.

My own exit from the car wasn’t nearly as graceful, but Ash made sure we were gazing at each other the entire time.  The lightning-strikes of flashes were already going off around us, people with everything from cell phones to full news cameras crowding forward at a barely-respectful distance.  Now I understood why she’d taken her time — it gave the bush-lurkers time to realize just who was climbing out of the latest stretch limo amidst an entire fleet of them.

“Ash, any comment on the rumors of a film contract?” someone shouted.

“Hey Ash, who’s—”

“Ash, smile for us!”

“Ash, who are you wearing?”

“Over here, Ash—”

“—your new beau?”

“I love you, Daisy!”

I suppressed a wince at that one.  Hopefully she didn’t mind no one being able to tell the difference between her and her character.  Hopefully it wasn’t like when people —

“Visser Seventeen?” a voice broke through.

Now I did wince.  I’d stopped dead on the edge of the sidewalk, expression frozen.  I didn’t know if I could...

“Tom Berenson,” Ash said loudly, and the crowd fell silent for the sound bite.  “We’re going for dinner, it’s a Balenciaga, can’t say about the film, and I love you all too!”

With that, she slid an arm around my waist and started steering me toward the door.

I smiled.  I waved.  I tried not to look like too much of a fool.

Several people yelled questions to me. A few yelled questions about me to Ash. A few, apparently, addressed their questions to the dearly departed spirit of Essa 412. Ash fielded the entire gauntlet, half-shielding me with her body as needed.

“Thanks,” I muttered, as we approached the host stand.

Ash nodded.  “Think it’ll rain?”

That was another one we’d done in the car — either of us could drop the phrase blue skies at any time to mean get me the hell out of here.

“It just might, yeah,” I said.  Giving the all-clear.

“Ash Lewis and Tom Berenson.”  This time Ash spoke much louder, probably so the mics could pick it up.

The host ran his finger down the list, nodding.  “Here we are.  Right this way, ma’am.  Sir.”

We followed him out of the hard-bright spotlight outside, stepping into a velvet-muffled interior like sliding underwater.

“Oh,” I whispered.  There were dozens of little round tables, each tucked away into semi-enclosed nooks around the edge of the room.  “This isn’t bad at all.”

Ash tapped the side of her nose.  “Don’t worry, plenty of eyes and ears in here too.”

Ah.  So a fair percent of the other diners would be reporters or hangers-on.  Made sense.

But it was still far less overstimulating than the cacophony outside.  Our table was draped in a white linen cloth, the enclosing walls in burgundy velvet.  No one was going to hear us unless we raised our voices, and the only photographs possible would be low-lit and far away. 

“So,” I said to Ash, after pulling out her chair and helping her sit.  “Come here often?”

She laughed, head tossed so that her curls cascaded attractively.  Exaggerated, but warm.  “This is my first time with a date, anyway.”

“I’m honored.”

I was running a mental check: elbows off table, legs uncrossed, posture straight.  Eyes on my date, even when I heard a click of a muffled shutter somewhere off to my right.  

“Ms. Lewis.”  A different guy in a tuxedo had materialized where the host had been a second ago.  “What a pleasure to have you back.”

“Good to be back,” Ash said, smiling up at him.

“Will you be starting with some wine tonight?” he asked.

“The usual.  And we’ll take a few of those menus as well.”  Apparently, she had to request menus.

“Naturally.”  He held them out on top of a freaking tray.  Ash took one without comment.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, lifting the leather portfolio.  Feeling like a kid getting sticky fingerprints on my mom’s paperwork.  Wondering why I hadn’t done the math before now that generating trashy gossip would be so highfalutin.

The waiter bowed — I’m not kidding, he actually bowed — and glided away.

“We’re getting wine?” I asked in an undertone.

Ash lifted her head.  “You are over twenty-one, right?”

I nodded.  “Are you?”

She smirked, tapping a finger against her lips.  Got it, never ask a Hollywood dame her age — lies were a survival tactic.  And she did play the sixteen-year-old version of me on TV.  Wouldn’t do to imply she might be a day over nineteen.

Opening the menu, I skimmed down the column of French- and Italian-labeled food things.  And then I stopped, my eyes skipping to the right, and read that column instead.

“Are these...” I leaned in closer, squinting at the tiny font.  No sign of any decimal points, but I could see a few commas.  “Are these prices in dollars?” I hissed.

Ash brought her hand up to her mouth, not quickly enough to hide her smile.

I flushed.

“It’s already paid for, Tom.”  She reached across the table to put two fingers on my wrist.

“No, I...”

We’d agreed she’d be picking up the tab, but still.  What the fuck could they have possibly done to that pigeon to make it worth twelve hundred fucking dollars?  It was a pigeon.  They were free for anyone with sharp eyes and fast talons, all over the friggin city.

“I didn’t realize the schmoozing and boozing part of this could be so pricey,” I said at last.

“You said no major food allergies?”  She raised her eyebrows.

“Just pineapple.”

She folded her menu so that she could look across the table, making eye contact.  “Do you trust me?”

I considered, rather than giving her a knee-jerk answer.  Trust her with my life?  Not exactly.  Trust her with this?

“Sure.”  I smiled.  “Go wild.”

She did, in fluent French, when the waiter returned.  My life was really in her hands now.

“All right,” she said, turning back to me.  “It’s going to be a while, so go ahead and give me something.”

“Something...?”

“You’re coaching me on my acting, remember?”  She grinned.  “So, lay it all out.”

I laughed, glancing away across the restaurant.  “Oh, you don’t want that.  I’m not an actor.  Or anything close.”

“No high school plays?”  She was smirking now.  “Middle school pageants?  Elementary school musicals?”

“Not a one.”

“Look, just...”  She tossed her hair again.  It was sort of terrifying to watch.  “Tell me one thing the show gets wrong.”

I raised my eyebrows.  “What, just one?”

She laughed.  “Artistic license aside.  What about the performances would you change if you could?”

“Seriously, all that comes to mind is hiring a better lion-actor,” I said.  “Which I assume is off the table.”

“Oh god, that friggin lion.”  She groaned, just exaggerated enough you could still believe in it.

“Wait.”  I leaned across the table, looking hard at her.  “They put you guys on set with a live lion?”

Ash shook her head so hard her earrings rattled.  “No, no!”

“Good, because I was about to have to call, I don’t know, OSHA or—”

“You’re sweet, but there's no need.”

“I mean, after Siegfried and Roy, that would’ve just been..."  I gave an exaggerated wince.

“Yes, exactly.”

I leaned back in my seat, heart rate slowing.  Seriously.  As a guy who’d been mauled by a tiger before — and that’d been a tiger who was motivated to keep me alive — I really would’ve gone to the SPCA with a complaint if some off-prime show had been letting its actors in the same room as giant cats for attention.

“The lion's on the same set as the humans, but never at the same time.”  Ash sipped her drink, using the motion to glance around and then lean in closer to me.  “The trainers bring him in, toss a few of his toys on the floor, and let him do whatever he feels like until he inevitably gets bored and drops down for a nap.  Then they send him away, and the producers write the scene around the footage they managed to get.”

There was another click from somewhere to our left, but thankfully no flash.  For good measure I reached across the table, and let Ash put her hand overtop mine.

"Anyway, tell me something else," she said.  "What do you think of Daisy?  Or Zeptron, for that matter?"

I turned my head half-away from the room, speaking in an undertone.  "I thought I wasn't supposed to know too much about A-Town?"

Ash shook her head.  "Just don't answer any reporters' questions about it.  Otherwise we should be fine."

"Okay."  I blew out a breath.  "I mean, I love your work.  Zeptron is, I'm sure I don't have to tell you, the best part of the show.  I assume you've seen the fan sites and know that already."

"According to the fan sites," Ash said, "Trina's the best part of the show.  Followed by Gina, followed by Zeptron.  Not that anyone's counting."

"And Bonnie says I'm a narcissist," I said.

"Maybe she's right.  We all need friends to keep us humble."

Just a hair of emphasis, on the word friends.  Got it.  No talking about Bonnie where the microphones could hear, or at least no acknowledging who she was to me.  "Okay, you want feedback?" I said.  "On how to more realistically be fake-me onscreen?"

"I do," Ash said.  "That's why we're here."

I considered the question.  Obviously if I'd been casting myself I wouldn't have gone for a pouty-lipped blond chick, but that was beside the point.  "Okay, fine," I said.

"Uh-huh?"

"The..."  I raised a hand to my ear, poking at it with the end of my finger.  "What's with the going like this all the time?"

Ash laughed, definitely a real laugh this time.  I was imitating a gesture that she made three, five, sometimes ten times an episode.

"What," I said, laughing myself, "is Zeptron worried she's about to fall out?  Is that what it's supposed to be?  Like a..."  I mimed catching an object that was about to fall out of my own ear.

"Yes."  Ash giggled.  "Yes, I'm adding that to the show notes.  Zeptron is constantly on the verge of falling out, and that's why the..."  She did a much better job than me, of course, of getting across the subtly ominous way that we constantly saw Zeptron patting at Daisy's ear.

"Seriously, though.  Why?"

"Pizza effect, as we say in the biz."  She raised both hands, pressing them to her ears like worried they were about to fall off.  "If someone's pizza delivery arrives midway through the episode, you have to be able to answer the door, pay the driver, sit back on the couch, and pick up the episode without having missed anything important.  And that's not even taking into effect the people who stop channel-surfing and start watching midway through an episode."

"So..."

"So we have to get across the idea that 'Daisy'" — she made air quotes around the name, and I kind of loved her for it — "isn't just the world's meanest teenager for some reason.  We need the audience to catch onto the fact that Daisy isn't Daisy.  And we need to remind them of that fact as often as possible, in case they ordered a pizza before starting the episode."

"Huh.  So you..."  Again I did the ear-poking gesture.  "Okay, fine, that makes sense."  And I did approve of the goal of distinguishing Daisy from Zeptron.  Otherwise you ended up known as Visser Seventeen for the rest of your fucking life.

"Yeah.  Like I said.  We don't want the audience assuming Brandon's sister hates him for no reason."

"Fine, fine, I'll let you guys have the ear-poking thing."

"What else?" she asked.

I blew out a breath.  This was not my wheelhouse, at all, and to be honest I had never watched an entire episode of A-Town from start to finish.  Mostly I absorbed factoids about it from Jake's ranting.  "Uh, my cousin Jordan says that Trina should stop going back and forth between Liam and J.J., and just date them both.  But that doesn't apply to Zeptron."

Ash gave another real laugh.  "Oh, I wish," she said.  "But yeah, that'd be a note for the writing room.  I'm just a humble actor."

The food arrived then, on six different plates.  Which was fortunate, because each one had just a tiny spray of food amidst vast empty space barely broken by sauce.  I hoped we were allowed to eat the garnish as well.  Ash served us, thankfully, using tiny metal tongs to set portions of everything onto two dessert-sized plates.

"Sorry," I said, after I'd swallowed my first bite of... I don't know, maybe a grape leaf and some kind of soft meat?  It was pretty good, to be honest, but not $700 good.  "I'm not much use."

Ash smiled softly, patting her lips with her napkin.  How she was managing to get food into her mouth without smearing her lipstick was one of life's great mysteries.  "That's not true," she said.

Again, she got her meaning across with just a hint of extra emphasis on certain sounds, a tiny tilt of one eyebrow: I was being useful by being here, no actual insider information necessary.  Couldn't have told you how she'd conveyed it, only that she did.  Actors, man.

"Thanks."  I took a drink, and tried not to feel like a galumphing idiot because there was no graceful way for a normie like me to eat on camera.  "Is there anything else specific you want to know about— about Daisy?"  I'd almost said about me, but well.  Eyes and ears everywhere.

"Let's be honest," Ash said.  "I don't play Daisy, at least not 99% of the time.  I play Zeptron 420 pretending to be Daisy."

And if she kept saying shit like that, I really was going to fall in love with her.  "You know what?"  I pulled my napkin off my lap and dropped it on the table, pushing back my chair as if to indicate I was leaving.  "We're done, I can't add anything, you already understand the role better than anyone else on the planet, I cannot possibly hope to gild this lily."

"You're too kind."  Ash smiled, but she also nudged my napkin back toward me with a fingertip.

Got it.  Couldn't make any gestures that could be misinterpreted by the camera.  Whoops.  Dropping the napkin back in my lap, I scooted my chair closer to her and leaned in close to look her in the eye.  "Seriously, though," I said, in a low whisper.  "It gives me a lot of confidence in the show to hear you say that."

"Okay, here's a question."  Ash took another bite of... I don't know, some kind of tiny fresh fruit cubes and some kind of fish?  I hadn't dared try that one yet.  "If you were Daisy, living Daisy's life.  How would you feel about having Brandon as a little brother?"

What immediately came to mind is what it'd feel like to have D-cups as soft and round as hers, right there on my chest, and a push-up bra to put them in.  Almost certainly not what she'd actually been wondering about.

"Brandon," I said, trying to refocus.  "Okay, so.  I'm not Daisy, but.  From my point of view, he's... really annoying, to be honest."

Ash sighed.  "Everyone says that.  Poor Jared."

Jared Kincaid was the actor who played Brandon.  And yeah, if I was him then reading those fan sites would be rough.  I could only imagine.

Not that I had fan sites.  But there were very good reasons I never searched for myself online.  Or read my Wikipedia article.  Or dived too deep into Animorphs forums.  Now if I could only get Jake to follow my example...

"What I mean."  I held up a hand in a hear me out gesture.  "I can't comment on his acting or writing, but Brandon's... really lackadaisical about the war, you know?  And I get that the fictional empire-that-shall-not-be-named isn't nearly as much of a threat as the yeerks were.  But he keeps blowing off missions to play lacrosse games, or go on dates.  And he claims he's in charge of the team any time he's bossing JJ or Trina around, but he never seems to do anything with that power.  It's usually Gina and Liam, or Trina and Crystal, getting back from missions.  Brandon just hangs around his house all the time getting grounded by his parents and bickering with Zeptron."

"Bickering with Zeptron is advancing the war effort, if you think about it," Ash said, but she was smirking.

"In that case, he works harder than the rest of the fauximorphs combined.  I stand corrected."

"Foe-uh-morphs?"

"Oh, uh."  I winced.  Hopefully that wasn't actually insider information.  "What Jake calls the A-Town team.  Originally a Marcoism, I think."

Ash laughed, nodding to herself.  "Fauximorphs.  Works better than 'teen shapeshifter team we can't name onscreen for copyright reasons,' I'd say."

"Is that the only reason?" I asked.

She tilted her head in a question, earrings sliding against her cheek.  She had an ultra-intense way of listening, conveying with everything from the tilt of her eyebrows to her position of her hands that she was hanging on your every word.  Like I said, bright future ahead.

"You never say 'yeerk,' or 'Animorph,'" I said.  "Characters refer to 'those jerks' a bunch, which I assume is meant to imply something, and obviously you've got alien invaders played by eels, but... it's down to copyright?  You know Marco owns the copyright for 'Animorph,' right?  And he works for you."

"Mm."  Ash made a small gesture, raising the first two fingers of her right hand, a let me think, as she chewed another bite of food.  Finally she said, "It's down to taste, I suppose.  Because it is ultimately a fictional show."

"Ha!"

That'd come out too loud — I pressed a hand over my mouth — but it got another genuine laugh from Ash.  And oh, that untouchable goddess veneer was wearing off faster than I wanted it to.  She was acting all too approachable.

She's gay, I reminded myself firmly.  And taken.  And you have a hot girlfriend at home.

"I just..."  I looked down at my plate.  "That's what I keep saying.  It's not a show about the war, not really.  It's a show about a ridiculous version of the war that's not supposed to be realistic, and everyone knows that.  Jake keeps taking it too seriously, you know?"

"I would hope not," Ash said.  "And we aren't trying to depict real yeerks.  That'd be pretty disrespectful, don't you think?"

The whole show was disrespectful as fuck — Jake and I agreed on that much — but even without the cameras, I wouldn't have said that to Ash.  Disrespectful wasn't the worst thing in the world.  It beat valorizing the Animorphs for the purpose of holding them up in contrast to everything allegedly wrong with the current generation, which was the most common alternative I'd encountered.

"What about you?" I offered instead.  "What do you think Daisy thinks of Brandon?"

"Oh, man."  She blew out a breath.  "I think she's sad, mostly.  She probably misses hanging out with him, and it has to upset her how much Zeptron bullies him.  I also think she's proud of him being such a good lacrosse player, like maybe she used to look forward to them being on high school lacrosse teams together before—"

"Okay, okay!"  My hand was clenched around my fork; I forced my fingers open.  "Okay."

"It's nice filming in California, where the weather usually cooperates," she said.  Checking in again.

"It does rain here sometimes," I said.  And then, "You're very good.  You know that?  Whatever they're paying you, it isn't enough."

"Mmmm, can I quote you on that next time I'm talking to my agent?"  She smiled with her lips, but her gaze was searching mine.

"Oh, please do."  I did my best to smile reassuringly.  And then, because I sucked at nonverbal communication.  "I asked the question, dude.  You answered.  But go ahead, hit me with another one."

There was a click to our right, another camera shutter going off.  Knowing my luck, I'd managed to get food in my teeth or bunch up my pants at a weird angle.

"How do you feel about Zeptron and JJ's romance?"  Ash lobbed a lowball at me.

"She should've stuck with her banana slug boyfriend," I said.  "Would Daisy want to date JJ, in your opinion?"

Ash tilted her head, then shook it.  "He's too young for her.  And she's secretly all punk and alternative, if you've seen any of the episodes with her cameos.  JJ's kind of a poser, you know?"

"Plus, he cheats on all his girlfriends."

"Exactly."

"How's Marco feel about JJ, anyway?" I asked.  There were obvious differences, from the Italian actor and buzz cut to the inexplicable decision to have him use duck as his battle morph, but he was Brandon's best friend, the team's comic relief, the only one with an immigrant mom, and the one with the most girlfriends.  That, and his mom was either a homicidal sadist or else being controlled by a yeerk that bore a suspicious resemblance to Visser One.

"Have you ever," Ash said, "and I mean ever, gotten a straight answer out of Marco about anything?"

"Oh, hell no," I said immediately.  "I think Jake can — that's his superpower.  But me?  No way, Jose."

"Yes, he's very good at this kind of thing." She didn't mean acting, of course. Or at least, not the kind that one did on TV.

"Scarily good, some would say," I muttered.

"Oh?"

"Okay, you—" I lowered my voice. "You remember Tennantgate, right?"

Ash nodded, of course, even though she was frowning in confusion. William Roger Tennant, America's most beloved hippie, caught on camera trying to strangle a dog. The most-played news clip of the year, at least in California.

"What if I told you," I said quietly, "that Tennant was...?" I made that yeerk-falling-out-of-ear gesture again, to get her to laugh. "And that it just so happens Marco Alvarez's stepmom owns a white toy poodle?"

Ash choked on a sip of water, putting a hand to her chest in surprise. I exerted heroic effort not to follow the direction of that hand too closely. "But how?" she whispered, when she'd recovered. "How would you even engineer something like that? They'd have to know exactly where he'd be when, how he'd react, that it'd happen exactly as the cameras turned on..."

I held up both hands in an open-palm shrug. "You've got me. Like you said, he's very good."

"It's funny."  Ash glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot.  I leaned in close to her, and she leaned across the table to meet me.  With her lips an inch from my cheek — she didn't touch my ear, we'd covered that — she whispered, "I asked Marco on this date first.  He said no.  Said that actually, he's thinking of... you know.  Telling people."

I sat back, looking at her.  Hopefully that little moment had looked plenty intimate for the cameras.  She'd even managed a blush, how I had no idea.  The red wine, maybe.

And then it hit me.  Coming out.  Marco was thinking of coming out.  "I..."  I took a breath.  "I hope... Whatever happens, it works for him."

Because he wasn't untouchable, not really, but he was about as close as you could get.  Elton John famous.  Anderson Cooper, Ellen Degeneres, Rachel Maddow famous.  Famous enough that losing all sponsorships and acting gigs, getting dragged through the mud and spat on by former fans, wouldn't be enough to ruin his life or his legacy.  Famous enough to pave the way for other boys who dated boys, for people like Ash to maybe someday not have to lie.

It was the difference between Arnold Schwarzenegger taking a four-by-four to the face, and Carrie Fisher taking that same four-by-four.  The blow was coming no matter what, and it'd hurt like hell when it did.  The only question was if it'd leave you enough marbles to straighten up and keep swinging.

Ash smiled weakly, and this time it looked genuine.  "And you know what I hope."

Yeah.  Because if the four-by-four hit Marco, maybe it'd only be a two-by-four by the time it got to her.

"Ash, I..."

You know why I agreed to come on this date? I lied earlier, about not reading my Wikipedia entry. I did, just once, not that long after it was posted. The first two sentences were about Jake. The rest was about Essa 412.

For more information, Wikipedia suggested, I'd want to read the entry for Visser Seventeen.

Seemed kind of pathetic, when you thought about it. I'd agreed to this little farce to be slightly more famous, for something I'd done for once. Ash...

She was lying, right now, because she had to. Because there was no choice. Not if she wanted to live in peace, wanted Sierra to live in peace. She couldn't come here on a date, not a real one, not to any restaurant anywhere someone might have a camera. Her hand was resting on mine, and she couldn't do that with the person she actually wanted. Sure, a century ago Bonnie and I would've been illegal in California, if her parents had been allowed in at all, but a hell of a lot had changed since then. There was no comparison.

It made me feel small and shabby, to have it all laid out like that.

"I..."  There was nothing I could say.  Not in public, and not when this wasn't my fight. "I hope you go on more dates here," I said at last.

"And I..."  Now Ash's smile was definitely fake again, even to the point of being a little sarcastic.  "Hope you're with me when I do."

I winked at her.  That was unlikely, since we'd agreed we would be at most photographed walking around together one more time before slow-fading into tabloid mystery.  But for now... "Dessert?" I said.

"Dessert," she agreed.

[allfortheslay25]

Renison Wedding wip

I wanted to draw more Renee and instead all I’ve drawn is Allison 💀

I believed that Allison had a rushed wedding with her husband (Toby and Ashleigh’s dad) that was so quick and done with that the foxes didn’t even attend it.

So when Allison marries Renee, she wants to go ALL out. Renee doesn’t mind and just wants it to be special for Allison. Allison orders three different wedding dresses and an extra for Renee so they can have a pre wedding photo shoot.

This is a cover for Allison’s true plan which is to have photos of Renee’s back muscles for their wedding (because Renee is always so modestly covered and her wedding outfit has a jacket)

Allison picks Neil and Neil only as both her maid of honor and best man. Renee picks Andrew and Dan who agree to keep their quips to themselves for the event (they’re friends but they tend to get on each others nerves the easiest)

[mod-jazzy]

I am very tempted to see the sparkledog (/lh) baby of Ashleigh and Eden, I think it'd be really pretty

(( Ashleigh may have won the "my child will have my species" battle. But Eden will always win the "they will be covered in pointless sparkles" war. Also get's Eden's weird sideways smile whenever they are nervous

sparkles may or may not also glow with their cheeks when using psychic/electric attacks. who knows

I'm sure they are very good at surfing on their tail. Im sure of it ignore the shaking legs and extreme amounts of sweat they've got this trust me. ))

[onthewaytosomewhere]

I've decided that other than seeing CMQ this weekend (Saturday) (oh... and prolly a movie Sunday lolz) it's also a make me write weekend

Rules: Send me an emoji corresponding to the WIP - as many as you want! - and I'll write 3 sentences for each emoji and share it. My WIPs are below: (well at least some of them - i'm keeping ti to 6 this time)

🏅 FP Olympics 2024 Proposal dammit ashleigh and nico i blame ya for this one 🧹 seeking the (sex) services of a witch 🍳 but the words that he was whispering i couldn't stop from listening (southern philanthropy) 🎸 alex cover band - seduce henry via 90's & 00's country n rock songs is he maybe a songwriter 🌶️ what to do when your bffs bro is hot (my excuse to write bea & alex friends with some firstprince on the side) 😘 they’re roomies and oblivious and maybe blow everything up when hen kisses alex

so help a girlie out maybe ??

A BIG OLD OPEN TAG TO ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO PLAY AS WELL & tagging a few peeps just in case

tag ur it! @adreamareads @blueeyedgrlwrites @caterpills @catdadacd @cha-melodius

@emmalostinwonderland @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @jmagnabo92

@eusuntgratie @taste-thewaste @kiwiana-writes @typicalopposite @softboynick

@porcelainmortal @priincebutt @sophie1973 @sparklepocalypse @stellarmeadow

@thinkof-england @tinyarmedtrex @stratocumulusperlucidus @suseagull04 @dragonflylady77

@thighzp @myheartalivewrites @anincompletelist

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

There's only one food allergen I'm allergic to. (I got diagnosed as allergic to 3 but I only seem to have a reaction to one). Guess which one it is?

💀

It sucks because sesame oil is fucking delicious too.

Also. For disability rights I guess I should state. It really fucking sucks that companies are like "I'd rather just make it so people with serious allergies can't eat my food" rather than actually try to accommodate us. You know how much fucking time I spent reading fucking labels to find food I can fucking eat?

You know what's especially shitty? There's actually treatment for non-life threatening food allergies. Doctors just don't treat it because insurance just doesn't cover it because "You can just avoid the food". Except you fucking can't. Because sesame is everywhere. Especially its in literally every health food that includes seeds and nuts "for added protein"

-fae

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

The Tour IV

Warning: smut, swearing Author's note: I wrote this chapter while listening to Bad Things. Try it and let me know what you think 😉

You lie in your hotel bed staring at the dark ceiling. The concert was as amazing as you imagined it would be. The crowd was electric and the music was, of course, perfect. The guys and Sophie just click on stage. They bounce off each other while still keeping their individuality. It’s…indescribable. Everyone was completely buzzing when they came off stage around 11pm. Rook convinced everyone to head to one of the nightclubs and drink but thankfully Colson wanted to skip it so you were free to head back to your hotel. Given that your only purpose on this tour is to make sure that he keeps himself out of trouble, you go where he goes. 

He hasn't spoken to you since the kiss and you're actually kind of grateful. Unfortunately, his distance hasn’t gone unnoticed and Ashleigh was demanding the whole soundcheck to know what was up but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. You didn’t want to keep it a secret, Colson never said you had to keep it to yourself but it felt too…personal? It’s a shitty reason for not telling her but you don’t know what it means for your contract and you don’t want to put her in a difficult position if you’ve crossed a line. Rook was almost disappointed that Colson was giving you the silent treatment.

“Out of all of us, I thought you were safe from his cold shoulder,” he’d whispered to you after soundcheck when Colson walked straight past you to the hire car, heading for the hotel.

“What do you mean?” you’d whispered back as Baze and Sophie ran past you laughing, confusion knitting your brows together.

“He’s different with you than the rest of us. You’re the only person he’s said more than a few words to since his fucking time of the month mood swing kicked in.”

That can’t possibly be true.

You hadn’t really noticed if Colson had acted any different because you didn’t really spend enough time with him to see it. Sure, he was always polite but you thought that was just who he was with you. You never really felt ‘in the group’ with Colson. Everyone else, you had an individual friendship completely separate from the group but with Kells you only hung out when other people were around. That morning had been the first time that you two had been alone in the years you’d known each other.

You groan when you look at the time on your phone. 2:13am. You’d thought you’d be exhausted by the time you got back to the hotel but by the time you had a shower and crawled into bed, your mind was wired and you felt on edge. You contemplate using the 24 hour gym in the hotel to tire yourself out but then you’d have to have another shower, putting you right back where you started. You think of another way to mellow yourself out.

Hopping out of bed, you pad over to your suitcase, rifling around for the little pink friend you never go anywhere without. You slip back onto the bed and discard your sleep shorts. You turn the vibrator on to the highest setting, not wasting any time with foreplay or teasing. When the silicone material hits your clit, you moan loudly. You cover your mouth with your hand and begin to circle your clit. Your mind wanders to that tall boy with the tattoos and dirty mouth and a moan escapes again.

“Colson,” you whine, remembering his lips on your neck.

His hands all over your body, lifting your shirt and cupping your breasts. His lips trail down from your neck to the valley between your breasts. He takes your nipple in his mouth, his other hand reaching into your pants, dipping into your panties to palm your dripping pussy.

“Oh fuck Kells, just like that,” you mewl as you feel your high building.

Suddenly the bed dips and your vibrator is replaced by a mouth. You yelp and try to fling off the bed but strong arms hold you down. You’re about to cry out for help, praying someone would hear you, when crystal blue eyes meet yours. Colson is lying between your legs, his face buried in your pussy. The sight alone is enough to make your juices flood the bed sheet. When he slips his long finger inside your tight hole you reel up, crying out in pleasure. His tongue circles your clit as his finger pumps slow, deliberate strokes. 

“Oh fuck…stop teasing,” you growl, you lace your fingers into his hair to try and encourage him to move faster.

His eyes twinkle with delight and you’re tempted to push him away and finish yourself. You scowl at him and he reaches up, running a finger along your forehead to smooth it. Suddenly, his finger moves quicker and he suction onto your clit. You practically squeal as you chase your high. The orgasm that crashes over you is the best orgasm you’ve ever had, either self inflicted or with a man. Your vision blurs, your legs shake and you cry out so loud you’re pretty sure the whole floor hears you. Colson laps up every last drop of your juices before pulling away from you. He crawls up the bed until he’s face to face with you, hovering just above your lips.

“If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” he grins at you before connecting his lips to yours.

Your movements are frenzied as you remove each other's clothes in between kisses. His lips find your nipple and he sucks, licks and nips at it. He tweaks the other between his thumb and forefinger before assaulting it with his mouth too. You’re so desperate to feel him inside of you, you’re borderline embarrassed by it. 

“Please,” you beg him and he immediately knows what you mean.

He snakes his way back up your body, tracing his lips over your skin, nipping and sucking as he goes. When his face is above yours again, you lean up to kiss his cheeks, his jaw, sucking his neck to mark it. If he ignores you after this, at least you will see that and be able to remember this moment. You drip saliva onto your hand, reaching between the two of you to grip his large cock. You pump your hand up and down slowly, watching his eyes roll backwards.

“Fuck,” he growls, biting his bottom lip as you work him.

His eyes are saucers as he takes you in, pupils completely blown, leaning down to run his nose along the column of your throat. You lean up off the bed, demanding his lips meet yours. When they connect, you dip his dick into your pussy, wrapping your legs around his waist to push him in.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers into your ear as you buck your hips to create friction.

He’s momentarily dazed as you take the lead until he gets his bearings. He leans back, wrapping his hand around your throat, pulling all the way out of you before slamming back into you, hard. You scream with a mix of pleasure and pain as he continues to pump into you. Your stomach coils into tight knots as he pounds the absolute fuck out of you. His timed thrusts are driving you crazy.

“Yeah that’s it baby, feel me filling you. Call me daddy!”

“Fuck me daddy,” you moan as your belly tightens.

“Cum!” he demands and on cue, your body responds.

An Earth shattering orgasm explodes in you and you momentarily forget to breathe as the wave crashes over you. Colson doesn’t take long to meet your high, stuttering against you before crying your name as he fills you with his hot load. He collapses on top of you, his breathing ragged and his heart thudding against you. You reach up and run your fingers down his spine, soothing his breathing. He rolls off you and you suddenly feel very empty. You get up and head to the bathroom to pee. You gasp when you see your reflection in the mirror and notice the bruises littering your breasts.

Guess we had that same idea.

When you finish in the bathroom, you head back to bed but you stop dead in your tracks. The bed is empty and your blood runs cold. There’s no trace that he was even there other than the damp patch on your bed sheets. You don’t know why this cuts you to the core so badly but an overwhelming feeling of sadness takes over and as you lie down on the now cold bed, you begin to silently sob.

[ineedtotouchgrassrightnow]

"There is one pain, I often feel, which you will never know. It's caused by the absence of you." -Ashleigh Brilliant

Your heart was racing as you ran towards the hill. You were tripping over your own feet, stumbling all over the place. Out of breath, panting, and sweating. The other day, you were a "normal" kid, aside from having ADHD and struggling with dyslexia. You felt your feet giving out as you ran upwards to the hill—it was so close yet so far.

Tears fell down your face as you tripped. Exhausted, you couldn’t move; it hurt so much. However, you couldn’t and wouldn’t die out here. Your body was burning, feeling like fire, intensely itchy. You just wanted it to stop, to be a normal kid again.

You didn’t even know what was happening; you were running away from something that didn’t even look real. Your head couldn't wrap around what this thing chasing you was.

Barely having enough strength to move your arm forward, you managed to start crawling towards the tree where you were promised safety by your satyr, who was now gone—dead? She tried to help you but failed with whatever was after you in the beginning, each time your arm moved forward, a newfound strength filled you. It hurt so bad, but you refused to die.

Your body weak and tired, you barely muttered, "P-Please..." The tree was just out of your reach, so close, almost touching your fingertips. "P-Please..." It took everything in you to stretch far enough to touch it. "Co-Come on..." You touched it—barely managing.

Just like that, you were on the other side. "What...?" Even though you were on the other side, you felt worse, actually. Unable to move, you had used your last strength getting here. Your lungs felt so small. "Help..." You barely whispered before passing out.

A taller boy with black hair was about to head to his cabin when an uneasy feeling crept over him. "Hello, is anyone there!?" he called out. A faint whisper for help reached his ears, prompting a quick response.

Acting quickly, Percy ran to the noise. "Where are you!? Are you okay?" he shouted, but not another sound followed. Desperation crept into his voice as he pleaded, "Please say something!!!"

Sighing, he ran in a different direction to find the person. His eyes met someone on the ground, badly injured, with blood, cuts, scrapes, and bruises covering their skin. Their hair was a mess. "Oh my gods..." Percy muttered softly before crouching over them. "I got you... let's take you to the infirmary." He picked you up, keeping a strong grip on you.

He gently placed you down on the bed before calling over another person to take care of you, ensuring that help was on the way.

After what felt like a few days, you finally emerged from your sleep, groaning, "Ugh, my head is killing me." "Oh, thank the gods you're up," a soft chuckle came from your side. "Huh...?" you muttered quietly. "You were out for days," he laughed, continuing, "It reminds me of the time I passed out before. I was out for three days? I think, I don’t remember well." He smiled before picking up a spoon of pudding. "Open, please." Nodding, you opened, and he fed you at a comfortable pace without another word.

"Thank you..." you expressed your gratitude. "Don't thank me, I would do it anytime for anyone," he said in a friendly tone. His soft smile was the last thing you saw before passing out again.

When you woke up again, he was there with the same smile mixed with a smirk. "Miss me?" he teased. "No," you replied. "I missed you; it's boring having one-sided conversations with a sleeping person, you know?" he quipped, maintaining his playful demeanor.

"No one asked you to take care of me..."

"Not even a thank you?" He scoffed, smirking. "Reminds me of a stubborn girl I know."

"...Thank you for doing it anyway," you said, looking away, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Come on, I'll show you around camp, new kid. What's your name again?"

"Y/n..."

"It suits you. I'm Percy," he smiled. "I'm the son of Poseidon."

"Poseidon... God of the sea, right?"

"Clever, aren't you? And yes."

"I thought the big three weren't able to have kids after something big happened?"

"Yes, but... wait, how did you know that?" He raised a brow, intrigued by your knowledge.

"Lucky guess?"

"Uh huh... well, come on, I'll show you the cabins first!" Percy said eagerly.

And like that, you two became accustomed to each other. He showed you everything in camp, helped you learn how to fight with a sword and hand-to-hand combat. He tried to help you find your godly parent, but to no avail. You still weren’t claimed, but that was okay – you still had your friend.

You ended up sticking close to him the most, often scared to leave his side. Most of the time, he didn’t mind, offering to take you along whenever he had something to do – whether it was training or grabbing a meal in the dining hall. "Y/n, I'm gonna go train. Wanna come with?" he'd ask. Or, "Come on, let's go eat. I'm tired of training!!!" he'd whine. The two of you were close, and nothing could really change that.

Until one day, "Hey, Y/n?"

"Hm?"

"I'm gonna go train, okay?"

"Can I come with?"

"Uh, maybe not this time...?" He chuckled nervously.

"I have one-on-one training with Annabeth, and I wouldn't want you to feel left out, you know?"

Smiling, you understood.

"Have fun, Percy!"

"Thanks for understanding, Y/N," he expressed his gratitude before heading off for his training.

Over time, Percy stopped inviting you repeatedly. "Percy, I hear—"

"Sorry, not now, Y/n. I have to do something with Grover," he sighed, feeling bad. "Oh, but I just wanted to sh—"

"Can this wait for when I get back?"

"Alright... have fun," you said, feeling gloomy, but still smiled as he waved.

It reached a point where he wouldn't talk to you at all, and you found it hard to be mad at him. Understanding that he had various responsibilities and tasks to manage, you realized that he genuinely wanted to hang out with you, but circumstances seemed to pull him away.

"Hey, Percy," you walked behind him at a fast pace.

"Yes, Y/n?"

"You know how my birthday is next week?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if we could do something together?"

"Yeah, that's fine with me," he smiled.

"Promise?"

"I promise. I'll make time for you."

"You're the best!!!" He laughed at your reaction. "See you later, Y/n!"

Next week came, and on your birthday, you waited for hours at the place you two promised to meet. The anticipation grew as you sat there, but Percy was nowhere in sight. Just as disappointment settled in, you heard panting.

"Oh my gods! Y/n, I am so sorry! I forgot what day it was, and I was doing something, but I'm here now!" He was breathing loudly, most likely having run to get there.

"It's fine..." you rolled your eyes. "Look, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you!"

"Do you know how sick and tired I am of hearing those words, Percy?" You looked up at him, your words resonating even though you spoke in a respectful tone. "I'm sorry..." he looked down. "I just wanted to spend time with you." You looked to the side. "What were you even doing?"

"Training... and then I went to sleep..."

"Uh huh," you sighed. "Whatever. It's late; my birthday will be over in an hour." You shrugged. "Thanks for remembering at 11 pm."

"Come on, Y/n?! We can do something fun for the rest of the day–night?"

"Like what? Wait an hour for my birthday to be over?" you retorted, feeling the frustration in the air.

"I'm really sorry..."

"You say that again and again, but with no change, Percy," you shifted to the other foot. "I’m going to sleep, Percy. Sweet dreams..." you walked off to the Hermes cabin. When you looked up, you got claimed. You couldn't help but smile softly; this was the only gift you actually got today. "Pretty..." you muttered softly before heading into your newfound cabin and going to sleep.

When you woke up, you felt empty, weird. Usually, you'd want to go bother Percy right now, but you decided not to. "Not right now..." you mumbled to yourself, not wanting to see him. You got ready for the day and went to the forest. There, you felt a sudden urge, as if you were looking for something. You kept walking deeper and deeper until you reached the same place where you passed out before, the same place where Percy first found you.

You sat down there, relaxing for a moment when you heard footsteps. Your battle reflexes kicked in fast, and you pulled out your weapon, turning around and placing it on the other person's chest. "Calm down, Y/n, it's just me." Sighing, you put your weapon away. "Sorry..." you apologized, realizing it was a false alarm.

"Hey, Annabeth..."

"Y/n, I know it's not my business, but Percy has been beating himself up this whole day."

"Womp Womp, not my fault,"

"I get that you're upset, but he really cares about you... more than me," she added, expressing concern for Percy's well-being.

"More than you?" You asked, confused.

"Yes, more than me. He cares about you deeply, Y/n, more than us others. But you need to realize he is the son of the big three; he needs to have his focus on other things most of the time."

"..."

"He also has to push you away because once they know he cares for you, they'll come for you."

"For me?"

"If they can't get him, they'll get you," she looked serious. "They want to see him in pain."

"Who is they?"

"Names have power, Y/n, but once they realize you are something important to him, they will kill you," Annabeth warned.

"So, he cares for me...?" Annabeth nodded.

"And I care for him?" "Mhm."

"But I can't have him?" "Unless you want to die, Y/n..."

"I'm fine with that!"

"No, you're not! And even if you were, he wouldn't! Percy would do everything in his power to keep you away!"

"But—"

"Even if he fails to push you away, he would never forgive himself for your death!" Annabeth stressed, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

It's been months, and you both haven't talked. You notice Percy staring at you, but the moment you wave back, he looks away. You know he likes you, and you like him too. Yet, you've accepted that this distance is for the better, even though it's painful.

THIS WAS REQUESTED BY SOMEONE BUT I COULDNT FIND THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE THANK YOU THO

[i-am-doll-p4rts]

Apex Legends Barbie Project

This is the first time I'm announcing this somewhat formally, but basically the project is what I've been calling my attempt at customizing OOAK Barbies to look like Apex Legends characters. My goal is to get the dolls faces to match that of the in-game character models, while leaving their clothes a bit more 'inspired by' their canon skins (for now). Characters I have bodies for and their completion status: Loba Andrade - Completed Wattson/Natalie Paquette - 50% Kaleb Cross - 10% Lifeline/Ajay Che - 0% Ashleigh Reid - 0% Catalyst/Tressa Smith - 0% Characters I would love to do but can't cover, oh but I have plans: Mirage Crypto Wraith Horizon This is not the only doll project of mine that is currently in the works, but this is the one I have dedicated time to first.

[judgingbooksbycovers]

Our South: Black Food Through My Lens

By Ashleigh Shanti.

[ultraericthered]

Fixer Upper Pitch For:

Sonic The Hedgehog has had five western animated shows (Sonic The Hedgehog, Adventures of Sonic The Hedgehog, Sonic Underground, Sonic Boom, and Sonic Prime) and one Japanese anime (Sonic X) plus an OVA movie. And I gotta be honest: I don't think any of them are really great shows. Boom is stupid fun and hilarious, but there's not enough there to take it to any level beyond "really good". The two earlier Jaleel White Sonic shows obviously have large fan followings, but I think both of them were just bog standard good at being what they were. Underground just kind of sucked all around, and X kept getting weaker and more forgettable.

But then there's Sonic Prime, the one that came so close. No, I do not believe it's canonical to the games universe, but it is closest to the games' general look, lore, and tone. It was developed by Man of Action of Ben 10 and Generator Rex fame, given a run of 23 episodes, and split into three seasons on Netflix through 2022-2024. The reception to it was...polarized, as to be expected with Sonic fandom. I think the general consensus is that most people liked it during Seasons 1 and 2, but then Season 3, both in execution and how it concluded, killed a lot of goodwill and soured people on the series as a whole. And yeah, that is one of the show's biggest faults.

I need to cover the show's strongest elements first, thus what I'd want to see left in tact in a revised version, before I get to the fixes.

The characterization and voice acting for the characters. I'm even gonna go here - Deven Mack, Vincent Tong, Shannon Chan Kent, and Ian Hanlin are better in their roles than the VAs currently voicing their characters in the mainline games. They nail the essence of these characters so well. Props to Ashleigh Bahl, Kazumi Evans, and Brian Drummond, as they're also pitch perfect fits for their roles.

The animation style. It perfectly blends a replication of the games' 3D graphics with a distinct cartoonishness that plays well for TV.

The background designs. New Yoke City especially standing out.

Sonic's arc. Sonic's a hard character to write a character arc for, so I appreciated that they had him grapple with the consequences of his rashness, cockiness, and putting himself and his own impulses and set goals ahead of his friends, and then also show us the dark side of that development by having his responsibility and commitment to his friends (as in his versions of his friends specifically) be so great that he fails to appreciate the ways in which the other versions of his friends like Nine differ in terms of who they are and what they want. I like when Sonic is allowed to be a fuckup. More of this shit, please?

Nine's character. His introduction was a little shaky and try-hard, and the execution of his Heel Turn for the third act left a bit to be desired, but his overall character was solid and compelling to watch.

Mr. Dr. Eggman. AKA The lead member of the Chaos Council and the only one among them who's competent and has got some true menace to him. His presence was great and he had such potential.

The Amy Roses. Rusty Rose in particular is a show stealer when she's around, but I loved all Amy variants and the bond they forged.

Knuckles The Dread. Gollum-level obsessed pirate Knuckles isn't something I knew I wanted, but he was just mad entertaining.

Shadow the Hedgehog. It's been said a lot, but this series really nailed the antihero depiction, role, and characterization for Shadow, and is one of the things that helped restore him to his former glory.

The Enemies. They all had terrific designs and action animation, Chaos Sonic and the Prismatic Titan being especially memorable.

The Humor. It's no Sonic Boom, but it could be funny enough.

The Heart. You can tell that the people working on the show did love and care about the property and wanted to make this as worthy an addition to the franchise as they could manage to make. As result, the show feels the most like the story of a Sonic game adapted into a serialized TV format, and I really can't appreciate it enough for that.

And now for the things that needed some major fixer uppering.

The Episode Count. This is often an Achilles Heel for Netflix shows and it even counts for this one. If this show was greenlit and designed from the ground up as a "season" that would likely be the entirety of the show, then clearly it needed to have 26 episodes. When you get 23 episodes, make the premiere double length, then burn through 16 episodes worth of story until your final season has only 7 left, leading to a lot of padding in that time, the final result naturally comes out wanting.

The Shatterverse Count. This is one that would make a massive difference in how the show and story would get laid out. When the Paradox Prism shatters, it becomes five Prism Shards: red, green, yellow, blue, and purple. Yet we end up with only three unique Shatterverse worlds created? Just the dystopian city, the prehistoric jungle, and the sea-covered world? There absolutely should have been two more to round it out rather than sticking the other two crystals in Ghost Hill and The Grim respectively, and they needed to be an icy, snow covered world and a Mad Max-esque hot, magma-filled desert wasteland world. Ghost Hill would still exist within the Void as the afterimage of the Shatterverse's origin point - the place in which the Prism shattered - and we'll get to The Grim a bit later. In addition to rounding out the Shatterverse itself, it could also give focus to characters that lacked it. New Yoke City had its Tails variant at the forefront, Boscage Maze had its Amy variant at the forefront, and No Place had its Knuckles variant at the forefront. If we got two more actual worlds, we'd have a Rouge variant at the forefront of the wasteland world and a Big the Cat variant at the forefront of the snowy world. That way it'd not feel like those two characters got the short end of the stick. And finally, there's what this could do for...

The Chaos Council. Plainly put, the concept of this group was just terribly thought out and terribly implemented into the show. The idea of any variant of Ivo Robotnik sharing power over the world is just a non-starter - it is massively OOC. It would make far more sense if it was just Mr. Dr. Eggman who ruled New Yoke City. At the same time, I'd not want to lose the other Eggmen 'cause five Ivo variants each at different stages of their life is just way too funny an idea to pass up on. How I'd fix this is that rather than the Chaos Council being fully formed from the offset, they're only loosely formed. Each of them took over their respective Shatter world - Mr. Dr. Eggman rules New Yoke, Dr. Babble rules Boscage Maze, Dr. Don't rules the wasteland, Dr. Deep rules No Place, and Dr. Done-It rules the snowy world - and they're all in contact with one another. Then once Eggman gains the power to travel the Shatterverse, he recruits each variant of him in-person one after another, so we see the Council come together in real time. This would effectively build them up as a threat to contend with, even while they're forced into an alliance of convenience to stop Nine, would reduce the other four members screentime so that their one note gags don't get as tired, and would set up a great punchline ending to them when they try to seize power over the Shatterverse only for the reality of "Ivo Robotnik would never share power, there can be only one!" to set in and get them at each other's throats.

Knuckles' Voice. What....were they thinking with Adam Nurada as Prime Reality Knuckles? Actually, I know exactly what - earlier in the same year Prime debuted, 2022, Knuckles was voiced by Idris Elba in the Sonic 2 movie, by far the deepest sounding Knuckles voice to date. So for whatever reason, the powers-that-be felt intimidated and that their Knuckles had to sound like a deep voiced black man too, so before the show's release, they hastily had Adam Nurada dub over Vincent Tong for all of Prime Reality Knuckles scenes....while leaving all three of his variants still voiced by Vincent Tong. And while Elba has the talent to make his take on Knuckles work, Nurada really doesn't. They needed to leave Vincent Tong in the role of Knuckles. It's a tell that every main cast VA has more than one role to voice in the show except for Adam Nurada. He was a last minute addition.

Nine And The Grim. Here's another notable shift. In the show, Nine discovers this place he calls "The Grim" and upon realizing that it could be made habitable, decides he wants to make it his new home by taking the Ghost Prism in Ghost Hill to use as a blueprint as he exploits the shards of the real Paradox Prism to recomplete it and transfer all of Prism energy to the Grim even if that means the other Shatter Spaces must disappear. Him starting on this also unmakes Ghost Hill completely. This is a solid development but for one issue... why is the Grim a place that exists? Much like Ghost Hill holding one of the Prism shards, the Grim as a world holding a shard does not work in theory or in practice. Would it not make more sense for Nine, after what Sonic has told him about Green Hill and the life as brotherly friends he and Tails Prime lived there, to want to remake Ghost Hill into a home for himself and Sonic? That he'd not want to restore the original Green Hill and instead, out of its remnant, make his own that he thinks would be a better, perfect version of what it was, and when Sonic rejects that idea, he instead replaces Ghost Hill with this vacant space known as "the Grim" out of spite so he can go on to make his own perfect new world from there? It'd work much better and add even more of a personal touch to Nine's Heel Turn.

The Fallout Of Nine's Actions And The Final Battle. When this happens, it should've also led to a three episode backtracking run through the Shatterverse so Sonic and Shadow could rescue the denizens of the vanishing worlds and then a single episode for everyone to come together in New Yoke City before heading to the Grim to face Nine. The final battle could be the last three episodes rather than four, with a lot of the action pieces and character-story beats that happened in the Grim in those last four episodes of the show we have having occured earlier when there as more space to flesh them out and let them sit better, and also allow less padding time in the final season where the same stuff happens on repeat.

The Ending. For the show's ending, when Sonic goes through the time gateway back to Green Hill a few minutes before shattering the Paradox Prism, there needed to be a little something more to it. Like, say, Sonic using up the last trace of Prism Energy to fracture the Prism's shards without shattering it whole, implicitly creating a new reality for what was (but now never was) the Shatterverse so that the denizens, whether they remember their old lives or not, get a chance to make better lives in better worlds than what they'd had before, just as those in the Prime reality are. Less of a bleak aftertaste this way.

With these fixes, Sonic Prime could've been the definitively great Sonic the Hedgehog animated series. In the form we have it in, it feels like we have 75% of a game rather than a 100% completed run.

[hollywoodxwhore]

Mine | Chapter Four

Colson x Original Female Character

Synopsis: Presley may look sinful on the outside, but deep down, she's innocent, guarded, and terrified of intimacy. Colson, on the other hand, is living up to his womanizer reputation as a way to cope with heartbreak. When his new guitarist invites his twin sister to join them on tour, Colson discovers that he's actually capable of feeling. Will Presley and Colson be able to push past all of the barriers trying to prevent them from happening?

Warnings/Content: swearing, brief mention of weight, col and presley being cute and pining for each other, surprise surprise kells talking about his dick

Presley

The first thing we do when we arrive in Florida is go to the beach.

It’s gorgeous outside and the show isn’t until tomorrow, so it’s a no brainer. Ashleigh manages to find a private beach that we’re able to rent out so no one bothers us. 

I’m so ready to get my toes in the sand, to dive into the ocean. Living in Michigan, I have access to the beach whenever I want, but what’s sad to admit is that I didn’t get to the beach one time last summer. I was too engrossed in my work. 

It’s been so nice not having to work while I’m here. I guess I didn’t realize just how little free time I’d been giving myself. I could work whenever I wanted at the shop, and more often than not, I’d decide to go in on a Saturday or a Sunday for some extra money. As head piercer, I could do that. 

But I’ve been feeling so relaxed that I don’t feel in a rush to return to that. I don’t really miss the loneliness of it all, the nights when I’d be all alone in my apartment. I’m a homebody and I like to be alone, but there’s a difference between alone time and loneliness. What I was experiencing was some pretty painful loneliness and I’m only just now realizing it.

It’s like I’ve come back to life in the short time I’ve been on tour. Feelings I didn’t realize I could feel have surprised me, and although I can’t act on them, it’s nice to know I can even feel that way. My little crush on Colson has grown into something a little more real, but I can’t help it. 

How could I when he’s secretly the sweetest person ever? Kind, selfless, and comforting, I’ve come to love being in his presence. Sleeping next to him was the best night I’ve had for as long as I can remember. How often do I wake up in the middle of the night seized by anxiety or loneliness and have to fight to get back to sleep? Every single night. But not the night I slept beside — well, on top of — Colson. 

All of this has me humming happily to myself as I slip into my bikini, gathering what I need for the beach. Once I’m changed, Cash comes out of the bathroom and gathers his things, too. The entire reason I joined everyone on tour was to be closer to Cash. I didn’t think I would end up loving everyone else, too. 

“Ready?” Cash asks and I nod, grabbing my bag. We head down to the lobby where we meet the others and get into the cars. I’m happy when Cash gets into the car where Colson is already. I can’t have him. I know this. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy his presence while I can. 

I turn around and wave Olivia over. I think she and Cash would be so cute together and I want to make it happen.

“Good call,” she whispers as she climbs into the car, taking the seat beside Cash. That leaves a seat open next to Colson and I sit down, smiling shyly up at him.

“Hey,” he says with a little smirk. God, he’s so handsome. He didn’t bother to put a shirt on so he wears black and pink swim trunks, sunglasses, and nothing else. His body is a work of fucking art, covered in tattoos that only slightly camouflage lean muscle. I have to force myself not to stare.

“How far away is the beach?” Colson asks. 

“About an hour,” the driver answers. Colson nods and slumps in his seat a little, trying to relax, but there isn’t nearly enough room for his legs.

I can’t help but snicker and he looks over at me, arching a brow. “What’s funny?”

I shrug and glance at his legs. “I can imagine you never have enough leg room,” I say.

Colson chuckles and nods, shrugging. “I’m used to it. Been tall my entire life,” he explains. “It’s a pain in the ass but it has its benefits.” He glances at me. “You’re pretty tall, too.”

“I shouldn’t complain. You’re at least five inches taller than me,” I say. 

“How tall are you?” He asks, looking me up and down. It makes me feel a little dizzy.

“Somewhere in the 5’9”-5’10” range,” I answer with a shrug. “Doctors tell me something different every time.”

“In that case,” Colson says with a little smirk, “I’m six or seven inches taller.”

I’ve never really cared that much about height, but thinking about our height difference makes me feel…safe? Excited? Small? It’s something I’ve never really thought about before. Being a tall woman, I’m used to taking up more space than I want to, used to feeling too big for lots of men. But not Colson. And I like that. 

“Yeah, we hear you, Jolly Green Giant,” Cash teases from the seat behind us, flicking Colson in the ear.

Colson whips around and snatches Cash’s hat off his head to place on his own head, backwards, and Jesus, he did not need to look sexier. “Shut up, Carver,” Colson says. “You’re only a little shorter than I am.”

“How tall are you?” Olivia asks.

“6’2”,” Cash answers with a smirk and I stifle an eye roll. Cash loves being tall. Loves the way women love his being tall. Hearts practically pop in Olivia’s eyes and Colson and I meet each other’s eyes, exchanging knowing grins. 

“Shorter than me,” Colson says, and his slight arrogance is sexy. He hands Cash his hat back and laughs when Cash flips him off. Colson turns to me and shakes his head. “Was he this difficult as a child?”

“Worse,” I say, glancing back at my brother, whose smirk fades a little. “Let me tell you about how he got, like, three babysitters fired.”

Cash groans. “Pres, no,” he pleads.

“What did he do?” Olivia asks delightedly. 

I giggle. “Which time?” I tease, and Cash smacks his forehead with the palm of his hand. “One time, he got on the roof. Another time he ran through the sprinkler in his clothes. Left the house without permission and the poor babysitter couldn’t find him. Oh, and there was that time you broke my wrist—”

“It was an accident!” Cash whines, cheeks flushed. His eyes narrow at me and my smile fades.

“Oh shit,” Colson mutters.

“I thought you said he was sweet,” Olivia says. 

I laugh. “For the most part, he was. But he had his moments.” 

“Alright, Pres,” Cash says, sitting up straighter. “What story of yours should I tell?”

I smirk. “I don’t have any embarrassing stories. Good try, though,” I say.

“What about that time you peed your pants at Matt Carlson’s bonfire?” And, fuck, I do have an embarrassing story.

“Cash!” It’s my turn to groan and cover my face. 

“Oh, this I gotta hear,” Colson says, and I groan more loudly.

“I love hanging out with siblings,” Olivia says.

“It wasn’t my fault!” I insist. “That’s one of the reasons I don’t drink.”

“Wait, how old were you?” Olivia asks.

“Seventeen,” Cash chirps.

I moan.

“Too much Smirnoff cherry,” Cash sighs dramatically, “and a trampoline don’t mix.”

“Oh god,” Colson says with a snicker. I glare at him and he only laughs harder, head falling back to reveal that gorgeous neck. 

“There went any chance I had with Matt Carlson,” I mutter. My cheeks are red, but I have to admit that it is a funny story. I can’t help but giggle as I lean over the seat to try and hit Cash. He laughs and evades any attempt I make, so I settle back into my seat and flip him off.

“Remind me to ask you for more stories later,” Colson tells Cash.

“Deal,” he says. 

“Do you know any embarrassing Colson childhood stories?” I ask Olivia.

“No, but Ashleigh and Slim do,” she says.

I grin wickedly at Colson who winces. “Good to know,” I say, raising a brow at him.

He shakes his head. “You’re an evil woman,” he says sagely, and I grin, shrugging innocently.

We all talk nonstop the rest of the way to the beach, and when we get there, we’re all energized and ready to enjoy the day. We pile out of the car and join the others who are already setting up on the beach. 

Cash tosses his stuff onto the ground and peels off his shirt. He tosses his hat on top of his shirt. “I’m swimming. Who’s with me?”

“Me,” Colson says, setting his stuff down, too. He turns to me. “Pres?” I’m so surprised by his use of the nickname that I almost lose my speech. Something about it makes me feel all gooey inside. 

“I’ll be there in a second. Just want to get my towel out and stuff,” I say. Colson nods at me and then follows Cash out into the water. 

I lay out my towel and then Cash’s, too. Olivia settles her towel beside Cash’s and smiles at me sheepishly when I smirk at her. “What?” She asks innocently.

“Just so you know, I heavily support it,” I tell her, and her smile widens. 

“Really?” She asks quietly, and I nod. She looks out into the water at Cash, sighing quietly. “Dammit. Why does your brother have to be such a good guy?”

I grin. “He is, isn’t he?”

“And so fucking hot.”

“Can’t say I agree with you there,” I say dryly. 

Olivia giggles and steps out of her clothes. “Come on. Let’s go swim with them.”

I nod and toss my cotton dress onto my towel, glancing down at my suit to make sure I look okay. I follow Olivia out into the water where a couple of others have already joined Cash and Colson. 

Colson’s hair is wet already, as is his skin, and it glistens under the hot, midday sun. Shit. Even though the water is somewhat cool, I feel flushed just looking at him. 

And then, he turns to look at me.

He has sunglasses on, but those can only conceal so much, and they do nothing to hide the way that his jaw quite literally drops when he sees me. He recovers quickly, clearing his throat as his mouth snaps shut, but behind the dark lenses of his glasses, I can see the way his eyes are slowly, subtly wandering my body. 

All at once, it’s very clear. Colson 100% wants me. And I want him, too.

“Hey, let’s play chicken,” Cash says, and when I look over, I catch him checking out Olivia, way less subtly than Colson was checking me out. I bite back a knowing smirk. Anything for him to get closer to Olivia. But I’m fine with it. Happy about it, even. 

Cash has had flings, but he’s a romantic at heart, and all he wants is someone he can spoil. Someone he can show off to our parents and his friends. Someone to treat like an absolute queen. And I really like Olivia. I’d be happy if it was her. 

“Ooh, me and Cash versus Presley and Kells,” she says, and dammit, because Olivia’s almost imperceptible smirk in my direction tells me she’s well aware of my crush on Colson.

And I’m happy, trust me, I am…but what if I’m too heavy? That’d be an instant mood killer. If Colson really is into me, being unable to put me on his shoulders would kill that real quick. Colson looks confident, though. He smiles at me as he walks over to me. 

“You good with this?” He asks, and I nod. He nods, too, and disappears under the water. I squeak in surprise when his head slips between my legs and he settles me easily onto his shoulders, hefting me up as he stands tall. Like he’s holding nothing at all. 

“Shit,” I say, grabbing his hair gently to steady myself. “You’re strong.”

Colson chuckles. “You wouldn’t know it with how skinny I am,” he says. “Not like you’re heavy,” he adds quickly, and I blush. 

Cash gets Olivia on his shoulders, too, and she looks at me with a little smile. I smile right back and keep my hold on Colson’s bleached locks as he walks over to them. 

“I’m getting on your shoulders next, Liv,” Cash says, and Olivia throws her head back with a laugh. Cash smiles widely and I feel a rush of affection for my brother. It’s so good to see him happy. 

Olivia and I grab each other’s hands once we’re in close enough proximity, and we giggle as we fight weakly, neither of us going too hard. We’re clearly both enjoying being on the shoulders of the boys beneath us. I’m glad I shaved my legs today because Colson’s wet hands are secured on my thighs. The warmth of them has me feeling flustered. 

“Are you guys even trying?” Cash asks after a few minutes. Olivia and I are basically just holding hands, and when we look at each other, we laugh.

“Alright, Cash, it’s up to us, I guess,” Colson says, and Olivia and I shriek in unison and we start to teeter as the boys grab hands and start trying to wrestle us off their shoulders.

“Cash, if I get hurt, I’m gonna kill you!” I shriek, tightening my thighs a little. 

“I’ve got you!” Colson assures me. He shoves Cash’s chest, and Cash wobbles. Olivia screams as she and Cash tumble into the water. 

I clap happily and Colson reaches up his palms so we can high-five. “Nice job,” I tell him. “Thank you for making sure I didn’t die.”

Colson laughs. “Any time,” he says. “Give me your hands.” I let him take my hands and he squeezes them as he bends down and pops me off his shoulders. I’m surprised when he wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m super competitive. Thanks for helping me win,” he says.

I smile and wrap my arm around his waist. “Me too,” I confess. “Like, madly competitive.”

“She sure fucking is,” Cash pipes in. “Many family fights were had over Sorry games.”

“You any good at beer pong?” Colson asks me. “Oh, right. You don’t really drink.”

“I’m still good at beer pong,” I assure him.

“Oh bet,” he says. “Another thing we can beat Cash and Liv at.”

“Hell yeah,” I grin.

Cash narrows his eyes. “I don’t like the alliance forming between the two of you,” he says, gesturing between me and Colson. “Kells, you and my sister can’t gang up on me.”

“Hey, not my fault your sister is cool,” Colson says, and I grin cheekily at Cash, who rolls his eyes. I’m really enjoying Colson’s arm around me. Enjoying all of this, really. I can’t actually remember the last time I had this much fun. The last time I was this happy. 

Colson

Today at the beach, I was happier than I’ve been in a very, very long time, and there’s no one else to thank but Presley.

It’s getting harder and harder to heed Cash’s warnings. Not only is she the baddest girl I’ve ever seen, but I actually really enjoy her company. She’s funny, sweet, and our personalities just vibe together. I haven’t gotten along with a girl this well in a long ass time.

And maybe I could ignore it, stay away from her like Cash said, but now that it’s three in the morning and I’m wide awake in bed, all I want is her next to me. 

I’ve been wanting to text her for two hours now. She was added to the group chat, so now I have her number, and I shouldn’t use it, but fuck, I want to. I’m tired as shit, and I know if she were here, I’d sleep. It’s such a slippery fucking slope, though. What if she tells Cash I begged her to come sleep in here? He’d be furious.

I groan and rub my eyes until I see stars. Not good. Not good at all. But, fuck, I’m an adult, and so is Presley, and who is Cash to tell me what I can and can’t do? 

It’s with that thought that I finally text Presley. I don’t ask right away, just let her know that It’s Colson.

She might be asleep for all I know, and I’ll regret the hell out of this in the morning. But there’s no way I misinterpreted the looks she’s been giving me. She’s into me. She has to be. Unless I want her to be into me so badly that I’m imagining things. I don’t think I am, though.

I jolt when my phone buzzes on my chest, and sure enough, there she is. What’s up? 

Colson: Can’t sleep. You?

Presley: Same…

Colson: What are you doing?

Presley: Laying here getting more and more frustrated that I can’t sleep. You?

Colson: Same. 

Colson: Want to be awake together?

Presley: Sure. Can I come there? Cash is sleeping like a baby as usual.

Colson: Come on over. Room 313.

I hop out of bed, hurrying to make myself somewhat more presentable. I brush my teeth, which is totally unnecessary since, one, I haven’t eaten anything since I brushed my teeth two hours ago, and two, it’s not like she’s going to get close enough to me to notice whether or not I brushed my teeth. 

I throw a pair of shorts over my boxers and roll on another swipe of deodorant. I check my hair in the mirror and then clean some food wrappers off the nightstand. By then, there’s a knock on the door. I open it to reveal Presley, looking cozy in a matching set that looks way too big for her. It’s probably Cash’s. “Hey,” I tell her. “Come on in.”

She follows me inside and I lead the way to my bed, sitting against the headboard. She curls up with her legs beneath her and faces me, sighing. “You an insomniac too?” she asks.

I nod. “Yep.”

Presley sighs quietly and nods, too. “It sucks.”

“That it does,” I agree, but now that she’s here, I feel tired. So tired. I know if we were to lie down in bed together, I’d be asleep in minutes. 

“The worst part is that I’m tired as fuck,” she says, “but I can’t sleep. It’s like every thought in existence enters my brain as soon as I lay down and close my eyes.”

“Fucking mood,” I agree with a chuckle. I take a deep breath, knowing I shouldn’t say more, shouldn’t admit it, but I do. “The only time I’ve actually slept well recently is when you were here.”

She looks up at me with those green eyes, so green they almost look fake, and for a second, I’m worried I’ve freaked her out. That I’ve said too much. But then she takes a deep breath, too, and nods as she looks away from me. “Yeah. Me too,” she mutters, glancing up at me again. 

We’re both quiet for a few moments, challenging each other to say it, to initiate, but she might be more stubborn than I am because she stays quiet. I wipe my suddenly clammy palms on my shorts. “Want to try and sleep here?” I ask.

Perfect, white teeth sink into the corner of her bottom lip as she studies me. “Are you sure?” She asks. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” I point out. “If I don’t sleep I’ll be a wreck at the show tonight.”

Presley wets her lips and nods. “Okay. Then, sure.” She hops off of the bed to remove her sweatshirt as I pull back the blankets. 

She hesitates, toying with the bottom of her long t-shirt. “You okay?” I ask as I crawl beneath the blankets.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” she says. “I just.” I raise a brow, waiting. “I can’t sleep in these big ass pants. Do you care if I take them off? My t-shirt is long enough….”

Her voice tapers off and her cheeks flush. Damn, she’s cute. She has no idea just how little I care if she sleeps without pants. Actually, that’s a lie. I care a lot. She’s making it so hard not to want her. But I shake my head. “No, I don’t care at all,” I say. “To be honest, I can’t sleep in anything but boxers anyway.”

”Oh,” she says, relaxing slightly. “Okay, cool.” She drops the sweats to the floor and I shuck off my shorts, tossing them to the floor. I glance over at her and my heart squeezes. She looks beautiful, the hem of her t-shirt falling just above where she has a rose tattoo on her thigh, and I’m reminded for the thousandth time just how gorgeous those legs are.

She crawls into bed beside me, careful to keep her shirt down, and settles onto the pillow, facing me. Suddenly, she looks exhausted, and I feel it, too, stifling a yawn behind my hand. I reach over to turn off the lights, throwing us into darkness.

“Pres,” I say quietly.

“Hm?” Her eyes find mine as we adjust to the darkness.

I bite my lip. “I’ll do my best to stay on my side of the bed,” I murmur, “but I failed at it last time.”

“Or I did,” she says quietly. “One of us did.” She’s quiet for a while, and I’m starting to think she’s asleep, but then the blankets rustle and her toes nudge against my shin gently. “We could just…not bother. Trying to keep our distance.” Her voice is so soft, but I heard her clearly. I swallow hard. 

“Yeah,” I say, my voice coming out in a bit of a croak. “Whatever you want.” After a brief pause, we both gravitate towards each other, and then her back is against my front, my arm draped over her waist, and she’s pulled one of my legs between both of hers. Her impossibly smooth skin brushes against mine. Jesus. A wave of electricity seems to swim through me and I swallow hard, trying to stay composed. This is so wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this. Cash would kill me if he knew. But I’m following her lead. She needs to sleep and so do I. This is serving a purpose. That’s all. 

I tighten my arm around her waist, then slide my hand to rest against her flat belly. I feel the hitch in her breath and then she begins to breathe slowly, deeply. I nuzzle a bit closer, my forehead against the back of her head, and all at once, I feel so completely at peace that it’s almost alarming. Presley is warm and soft and fits with me like we were made for each other. My eyelids are so heavy I can’t hold them open anymore.

“Night, Pres,” I whisper.

“Night, Col.” I love the use of my nickname and the soft, raspiness of her voice. Before I know it, I’m asleep. 

XX

More often than not, I wake up far before my alarm, so I’m surprised when it rouses me this morning. Rolling over, I quickly turn it off, all too aware that Presley is in my bed. 

I swear we barely moved all night, other than her rolling slightly onto her belly. I know we touched all night because I’m warmer where our bodies were touching. And the morning wood I have is not a run of the mill boner. No, this is from cuddling up to a girl to whom I’m extremely attracted. Shit. 

A glance at Presley tells me she’s still asleep, so I adjust myself, tucking my cock into my waistband until it decides to behave. Sun peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow over Presley’s sleeping frame. We must’ve gotten warm because the blankets are shoved down, and that’s when I realize that her shirt has ridden up, all the way to her lower back. 

I hold back a whine, feeling like a total prick, but fuck, I can’t help but look at her ass. She wears tiny boy shorts that have also ridden up, the perfect crescents of her ass perfectly visible. I cringe, feeling like a total douche, and gently roll her shirt back down, covering her up. But then, she starts to stir.

I freeze with my hand hovering over her, not wanting to touch her without her permission. She lifts her head, confused, then looks over her shoulder. Her eyes widen slightly when she realizes the state of her clothing, and then she yanks her shirt down, whipping her head over to look at me.

My eyes widen a little and I hold up my hand. “I-it rode up. I was just trying to roll it back down,” I assure her, but she’s already scrambling out of bed to pull on her sweats. I feel sick with guilt. She must think I was checking her out or trying to get her naked or something. “Presley,” I say.

“It’s fine,” she mutters as she pulls the sweatshirt over her head. “What time is it?”

I don’t understand why she’s acting so weird, why she’s so desperate to cover herself. She’s beyond gorgeous. “Um, noon,” I say. “We have to leave around one for the venue.”

“I should go get ready,” she says, relaxing as soon as she’s fully clothed. She bites her lip and smiles at me a bit sheepishly. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.”

I relax just a little, then nod slowly. “Of course. Any time,” I say. “Thanks for sleeping here.”

“Did you get some sleep?” she asks.

“Oh yeah,” I say. “I feel great.”

She smiles softly. “Okay, good. I’ll see you at the venue later, okay?” With that, she grabs her phone and hurries out of my room.

Slowly, I roll onto my back and blink at the ceiling. There are so many little quirks about Presley when it comes to sex and her body. First, there was the weird conversation we had about sleeping around. Now, she freaks out about her shirt riding up. How could she possibly be insecure? 

I try to push it out of my head as I get ready, but warning signals pop up in my brain. Did something happen to her? Did someone hurt her? Why else is she acting this way? I don’t like the way anger flares in me at the thought of someone hurting this perfect woman. I want to find out, but I don’t want to push.

Besides, I promised Cash — and myself, for that matter — that I wasn’t going to be anything other than her friend. But friends care about friends, right? This is a friendly concern.

Right?

[endlessly-cursed]

Founder’s Era- Luxia Thorne

"𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨, 𝙄 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢."

Name: Luxia Ash Thorne 

Nicknames: Lu 

Birthdate: 1st of July, 964

Zodiac Sign: Cancer 

Personality Type (MBTI): TBD 

Blood Status: Pureblood 

Nationality: British 

Physical Appearance

Hair: Black brown 

Eyes: Black brown 

Height: 1.70m 

Weight: 65kg 

Body Type: Tall, lithe 

Skin Tone: Fair 

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): Marks on her forearms from falling into a rosebush 

Background

Hometown

Luxia grew up within the wizard Saxon nobility, in luxury and her Saxon home would be the first traces of Thorne Abbey. 

Family

Mother: Felicity of Wales 

An intelligent, wise, rebellious and intelligent woman, she was ahead of her time and unafraid of speaking her mind, insisting that her only child would be treated like the heiress she was despite of her sex. She married Doyle out of convenience, but the pair grew to appreciate one another. 

Father: Doyle of Anbach 

A man of war who had a soft spot for his girls, he was teased for indulging his wife and daughter, though he didn’t care much for it and was often on crusades and at court of the highest-paying nobleman until Godric Gryffindor, a young but outstanding wizard, offered to take Luxia under his wing and he accepted. He never got to know their relationship together, for he died of an episod of gout when Luxia was 15. 

Career

15-21: Apprentice of Godric Gryffindor 

22-32: Duelling class 

33-Death: Crusader 

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Being where the battle is thickest, Godric’s wellbeing, being free 

Strengths: Brave, bold, corageous and friendly 

Weaknesses: Hot-tempered, stubborn and has jealous 

Stressed: During feasts and novelties like that 

Calm/Comforted: Training for the next battle 

Favorites

Colors: Red, gold, white and yellow 

Weather: Sunny and hot 

Hobbies: Sword-fighting, archery, poetry, reading and politics 

Fashion: Luxia dresses with simple dresses and rarely has a veil around her, finding it restrictive and far too uncomfortable to fight with. She does have a helmet that has a veil that covers her hair when it’s loose, but it normally is not. 

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Godric Gryffindor ( 980-985 ) @hphmmatthewluther​ 

Godric and Luxia were of similar ages and both were brave warriors and remarkable wizards, and both they developed feelings for one another. Godric’s sweet and gentlemanly manners quickly betwitched Luxia, as well as he was taken by her Herculean bravery and the fact that she always challenged him, which he loved: a challenge. They were together for five years, planning to marry after the Mage Wars were over. 

However, when she found out that he have had another relationship resulting in a son during those years, she instantly flipped, having their most severe argument, where Luxia broke things off and vowed to never be alone with him in a room. After Hogwarts was founded, they mended things and even supported Godric’s relationship with Rowena, whom she had a deep respect. Luxia went to found her own family, which still prevails today. 

Evander Mountmorris ( @foundersofhogwartslegacy​ ) 

Evander joined Godric’s forces soon enough, given the brewing war happening. Luxia, as Godric’s second in command (and after ensuring she was not bearing his child just in case) trained the best promises, and Evander was among them. 

The two of them had a special emotional connection, and although Luxia was prickly and reserved at first, something about Evander made her open up and give love a second chance. They spent what was considered as a long engagement before marrying after Luxia was sure she was making the right choice this time. They had three children together: Kenna, Kemina and Leonidas. Their line would result in the Thorne family through their son Leonidas. 

Friends: Ashleigh of Gwent ( @catohphm​ ) 

Luxia and Ashleigh both had goals in common and bonded over many hobbies of the time. 

[MORE TBD] 

Osmund of Worchester 

He was the husband of Ashleigh and befriended him through her, also enjoying his company. 

Rivals: Brunhilda of Cologne 

They often differ in many things and are each other’s opposites, not to mention that Bruna often ridicules Godric, and Luxia is the first one to spit back and they’ve often duelled for each other’s honours. They never really make up. 

Trivia

Luxia is the ancestor of Marcellus and Semele Thorne 

She was given the nickname ‘Rose With the Thickest Thorns’ for surviving unscathed a fall to a thick rosebush 

She was an advocate for women’s rights of the era and often persecuted men who abused their wives and daughters, slaughtering them 

She never liked being subjected to the highest bidder’s will and was key on Godric joining Rowena’s cause 

She was responsible of hiding the Gryffindor sword so only a worthy member would find it and weild it 

She carved a rose with thick thorns on the Gryffindor tower for her descendants to find 

She can swear like a sailor in Byzantine Greek and Latin, as well as English 

After ten years of teaching, she decides to go on crusades for a better purpose and gets to live to the age of 77, outliving most of the founders 

There is a portrait of her in the Gryffindor common room where she weilds the Gryffindor sword while having the personal emblem of Godric, a symbol of their deep love for one another 

[onthewaytosomewhere]

🌶️🎸🍳🧹🏅 for make me write!

🌶️ what to do when your bffs bro is hot (my excuse to write bea & alex friends with some firstprince on the side)

Eventually, Alex starts seeing Bea when he’s out and about and even occasionally on the edges of campus. Apparently, she lives nearby and likes to take walks around the campus to clear her mind. Soon, Alex is joining her on them. They talk about everything, and it’s months before he realizes it’s almost like he’s acquired another big sister—or if nothing else, that Bea is his friend.

🎸 alex cover band - seduce henry via 90's & 00's country n rock songs is he maybe a songwriter

Maybe he’s a bit obsessed. He’ll admit something is drawing him to Henry, but he can’t quite figure out what that is. Henry is—well, honestly—kind of geeky, but not in that ‘had their lunch money stolen from them’ way in some more mysterious way that makes Alex just want to figure him out. He overhears him carrying on conversations about both Jane Austen and Star Wars the first time they play at the bar, and well, he needs to know what else there might be in that mind of his.

🍳 but the words that he was whispering i couldn't stop from listening (southern philanthropy)

Instead, his mind wanders through all the thoughts he didn’t let himself think about last night. Thoughts about how incredibly reckless it is to go home with the man you’ve been crushing on for over a year now. The man that you will have to see again, so ‘fucking him out of your system for one night’ might not actually have been the best plan. He knows this has the potential to blow up in his face, but there comes a point where even the strongest person can no longer resist the thing they want—and he’s never been that strong when it comes to Pez.

🧹 seeking the (sex) services of a witch

Henry is pouring over some old magical tomes when Alex enters and doesn’t hear him enter. Alex hasn’t knocked before coming into Henry’s place for at least a week now, but usually, he still hears him enter. Today, he has no clue that Alex is even there until he’s brushing Henry’s hair out of his eyes and setting down a fresh cup of coffee. He swears he feels a spark of something when Alex’s fingers glide across his skin, but surely that was just some sort of static electricity in the air.

and well that last one is still stuck in smut so we're gonna put it behind a cut lolz

🏅 FP Olympics 2024 Proposal dammit ashleigh and nico i blame ya for this one

Alex’s moans carry through the room, and Henry is tempted to speed up his movements. He wants this moment to last, though—wants to feel Alex around him for as long as possible. His breathing is growing ragged, and he knows, based on the way Alex is canting his hips to him and pressing his heels into Henry’s back, that he’s not going to last much longer.

YOU CAN ALSO MAKE ME WRITE!!

[thelesbianpoirot]

If you mean Jensen Mcrae then I love her music. Starting To Get to You is my absolute fave and her cover of Fast Car is great too. I knew Jensen was a real name but I always thought it was for white American guys only lol the singer is mixed though so her yt side is probably where it comes from because I’ve never heard of a female Jensen let alone a black one

I discovered her and became a fan purely because I was interested in the fact she's a black female JENSEN. Yep She is mixed so her parents gave her a little white boy name. She's very cute so she makes it work. Jensen sounds so made up! Like a modernized version of some normal name, like Ashley because Ashleigh, Janson?? Jason becomes Jensen. Starting To Get to You is a little bop! I live it. I literally discovered her because that song was used in a youtube edit for my favorite lesbian Brazilian telenovela, stupid wife.