#but it's very overwhelming out there in pattern land lol

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

crowdsourcing project ideas: 3 skeins for knitting edition

hello! do you knit? do you like to give solicited recommendations? do YOU know what wearable to make with ~600yds of worsted malabrigo rios wool yarn?? then boy is this the post for you!!

i was gifted yarn, and i'd like to make one (1) item to fit a tall-ish adult person out of it. i briefly trawled ravelry about it, but nothing there is hugely sparking joy, so i thought i'd turn to this other corner of the internet instead!

i was thinking something poncho-y, or perhaps a shawl that could become a poncho-y thing (or i guess a wrap?? i've never made a wrap). my problem, again, is that i'm tall, and that i ONLY have these three hanks of very pretty yarn, so the 600yd limit is real. i'm not feeling ~scarf~ or ~hat~ or any combination thereof: i want one BIG wearable thing out of this.

i am willing to try patterns with lace elements to maximize my size per yardage (size more important than warmth; i love layers), but i'm absolutely not a Lace Knitter™. willing to try anything once! intermediate skill level currently (i tag things as "my knitting" so you can see what that means lol).

does anybody have favorite patterns for this sort of thing? general ideas? hit me with them, please!!

[runa-falls]

scratches and bites - 1

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Almost kidnapping, age-gap but completely legal, grumpy/asshole Miguel, injury, them claws and fangs, sexual tension, cockblock lol

a/n: yes, i’m back at it with some writing. sorry for being mia lol. this became a lot more dark-ish than I initially anticipated–my bad. I was also gonna do a smutty one-shot, but i needed some background so ._. my bad again. now imma hunker down on pt 2. hope you enjoy ?

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. So this is how you met (which may explain some things...)

w/c: 1.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

Miguel O’Hara is a grumpy man.

It’s almost like there are tiny weights holding down his brows to maintain his glare or ribbons pulling at the corner of his lips so he’s always frowning. Needless to say, being subject to an O’Hara scowl is not uncommon. Everyone in the spider-verse has had their turn. But you have seen it more than anyone. In fact, you might be the number one reason why he’s rarely seen in a relaxed state. 

You’re not even sure why you were recruited in the first place. When Miguel showed up, it was only a few days after you were bitten. You had literally just woken up from your Spider-coma to find what every spider-person experienced: sticky hands, superhuman strength, and a sixth sense. 

Endless thoughts ruffled your mind, overwhelming your already overly-sensitive body. Just as you were starting to fully freak out, a bright and distorted series of lights and noises invited a very tall man, dressed head-to-toe in a red and blue suit, to casually walk into your childhood bedroom.

You sat there shaking in disbelief as you watched the broad-shouldered man slowly reveal his face, easily taking off that terrifying mask before regarding your small figure on your bed. He almost looked inconvenienced or bored as he met your eyes.

This has to be a dream.

“Alright, come on.” Those were the first words he said to you. He gestures to the portal impatiently, waiting for you to come to your senses and follow his orders. When nothing happens he raises his brow. “Don’t have all day.” His tone is clipped like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“What? ” It comes out hoarse and small, "No." If it weren’t for his sensitive hearing he probably wouldn’t have picked up on it over the noises the portal was making. Your fingers clench harshly against your blanket.

That marks the first time you saw his infamous scowl. He adjusts his stance, resting his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. “No?" He chuckles humorlessly, "Well, you don’t really have a–” 

“Who the hell are you?” 

He shakes his head dismissively, “It doesn’t really mat–”

“Did you do this to me?” You lift a hand that has remnants of a Spanish flash card that you accidentally picked up when you leaned against your desk. You tried to peel it off but ended up ripping it into smaller pieces that were still stuck to your palm. His stare is patronizing as it lands on your flash card confettied hand.

“Is this new to you or somethi–”

“So you know about it?” You accuse, "You did--"

“Stop fucking interrupting me.” You flinch as he basically growls the words in irritation. As he steps closer to you, light pours over his figure, highlighting the intricate pattern of his suit that clings closely to his muscles. You cower slightly, noticing the menacing scars over his cheeks and the heat in his nearly red eyes.

His voice is low and dangerous as he addresses you, “You’re spider-girl, or spider-woman if you prefer, though by the looks of it,” His eyes glaze over your face and body, “you’re still just a kid.” He continues to inch closer as he speaks, unconcerned by the way the portal closes suddenly behind him or the way you start to shuffle away from him. “A radioactive spider bit you and gave you powers, lord knows why, and now you are to use them for good. End of story. Now,”  His hand darts out before you could react and grabs a hold of your arm, “you’re coming with me so we can save everything and fix all this shit that is fucking up the multiverse.” 

You attempt to yank your arm from his hold, but it only makes him grip you harsher. “Why are you doing this to me? I don’t even know why this is happening! I j-just woke up, I swear!” He doesn’t spare you a look as he mutters lowly into his watch.

Another portal opens, exactly like the first one he came through, but placed a bit farther away.

Now you’re panicking. 

“Didn’t you hear a thing I said?” He pulls you from your bed, almost dragging you off the mattress. You try to claw at his hands, but his grip remains unaffected. If anything he’s just growing more frustrated.

“Ok, ok, ok. I’m spider-woman.” You continue to pull away from him, dragging your legs as a way to slow him down. “Please, I promise to use my powers for good! I will be a nice neighborhood spider-thing–Just please let me go! I didn’t do anything–”

“This isn’t a discussion.” He pulls you up and closer to him until he’s basically carrying you to the portal, one arm supporting your spine and another under your legs. You squirm relentlessly in his arms, trying to make it hard for him to get a good grip on you. “Stop…Fucking…Moving–” Sharp, fire-hot pain zips up your body as claws sink deeply into your skin. The side of your thigh and abdomen throb with unbearable heat as you’re shoved closer to his chest. 

“Ahhh–fuck!” Your eyes sting with tears as your body catches up to the burning sensation of his claws retracting back into his body. 

“Shit…” You look up as you hear his softened voice and see that he’s staring right back at you. The portal in front of the two of you continues to hum, but it quiets as your eyes met his. “Kid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—You just, you gotta come with me. The fate of everyone and everything rests on our shoulders.” The pain on your side dulls as you silently listen to the growing desperation in his voice. Somehow you’re able to divert those sensations, you might even be healing already. “I know you’re new to all this superhero stuff, but trust me when I say that I need your help. We all do.”

You’re almost afraid to ask, “...We?” 

“There are countless spiders across the multiverse, all with interconnected lives.” You feel the large warmth of his hand gently stroke against your aching thigh like he’s trying to soothe the pain with light touches. “I’ve recruited a couple thousand, but we still need more. There's darkness rapidly spreading around the multiverse, displacing heroes and villains from their original dimensions and destroying whole universes.” The colors of the portal reflect off his red eyes as he stares right through it, mind somewhere else.

You let it sink in. The whole multiverse. Everything and everyone. And you.

Your arms slowly link around his neck so as not to startle him, and you pull yourself closer to him. You secretly enjoy feeling his firm chest against you, suddenly realizing how much larger he is compared to you, but when you twist the wrong way you are suddenly reminded of the small gashes on your side. Your quiet hiss shakes him out of his thoughts. Your lashes, sticky from the few tears you’ve shed, frame your eyes prettily as you stare up at him.

“Ok.” It comes out quieter than you wanted but he immediately reacted to it.

His brows raise in surprise, “Ok?” You nod. “Ok. O–Alright, that's um, great. I mean, thank you.” You nuzzle your head into the warmth of his chest when you see a corner of his mouth perk into a small smile. Why is he making you feel this way? How can your body react like this to someone about to literally kidnap them? “D-do you want something for these, uh, marks…” His voice is hushed and almost sounds sheepish as his fingers carefully smooth over the marks he left on your skin. A soft groan leaves your lips as he applies too much pressure against one of the puncture wounds.

“Yes please.” His fingers stop their movements and you can barely feel the way his body stiffens at your words. 

“Alright, honey.” The hand under your back drags upwards, tracing your spine until it rests against the back of your neck. Goosebumps litter down your body as the warmth of his palm meets your bare and ultra-sensitized skin. He lifts you closely until you can feel his breath against the skin of your throat. Your eyes flutter closed. “Brace yourself.” The rough timber of his voice is enough to make you unconsciously clench your thighs. Time slows as you feel the sharp edge of – are those fangs? 

You’re so focused on the gentle brush of his incisors that you barely notice the borderline possessive way he’s holding you. Like a wolf preparing himself for the meal of a lifetime. Just as he’s about to sink in and finally give you the relief that you’re practically begging for, an engine roars to life. 

An engine. In your bedroom. 

Well, there’ve been weirder things. 

Both of you separate slightly at the noise and watch as a motorcycle slowly rolls into the room. There sits a heavily pregnant spider-woman with a very unimpressed look on her face, eyes bouncing from you to the nameless man cradling your body.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

[handsome-wise-strong]

Can I get some Lucemond fic recs? I’m new to the fandom ☺️

First of all, welcome to the fandom! I hope you enjoy your time in our little corner of tumblr. There are countless great fics out there I could recommend you to read but I’ll try to keep the list short and simple for now. I don’t wanna overwhelm you!

Here’s my favorites:

Remember the lives we once lived — Unohanabbygirl

This is a series and it focuses on the Targs reincarnated in modern times. The first fic in the series I read was Forget me not, which focuses around a troubled and amnesiac Luke. The author creates such vivid world building in the fic, and the characterization of not only Luke but everyone else in the family is truly incredible. It’s so immersive and complex and I feel like a kid on Christmas whenever it updates. I also highly recommend you check out the other fics in the series — A whole new world in which I don’t belong (which focuses on Alicent’s backstory and is just so so so good) and Take me with you before you fall (Aemond’s life after he accidentally killed Luke!!) There’s nothing else like it in the world!

new contact: luke — Everild

This is also a modern au. It focuses on Aemond, who has joined the priesthood. It incorporates modern notions about incest, adding a delicious sheen of guilt and self-loathing around the entire fic. This, paired with a healthy dose of religious guilt, makes for an intriguing read that leaves you craving more.

Glass cases — lockandkey

Another modern au that centers around reincarnated Lucemond. It’s a bit of a slow burn (which I’m addicted to) and there’s a lot of tip-toeing around feelings in this fic! Overall very soft and a little bit angsty at times. I adore it!!

Ægishjálmur - theartificialintellect

I read each update as soon as it comes out, that’s how much I love this fic. It’s a viking au, featuring seer! Lucerys!! If you’re a fan of history or Norse mythology you’ll love this one. It’ll keep you on your toes and leave you wondering about all the mystery surrounding Luke’s visions and Aemond’s family.

Athamé - theartificialintellect

This is one of my favorite Lucemond fics. If you like old manor houses, strange occurrences in the night, and dark family secrets, this will be the perfect read for you. It has a very gothic romance/horror vibe that I always crave, and wraps up so well in the end.

Empyrean Blaze — theartificialintellect

Alright, I’m just a really big fan of theartificialintellect lol 💀 anyway, this fic is not for the faint of heart, but I still highly recommend it. It’s a dark fic, focusing around a demon Aemond and a vengeful Luke, so if that’s your style, go for it.

Time Has Gone — Minos_TT

An A/B/O fic set during Rhaenyra’s time on the iron throne. Luke has had Aemond’s bastard while in the Vale, and returns to King’s Landing with his son in tow. Secret kid plot lines are always a treat to me, and little Laenor in this fic is one of my favorite Lucemond kids!

The Holiday — archimedesprinciple

Another modern au!! I’m a sucker for fics framed around holidays, so this one was very comforting to read. It’s probably the Lucemond fic I go back to read most often, just so I can feel like it’s Christmas again.

In Darkness there is Love — springofmylove

Modern au again (I’m starting to see a pattern) Luke gets injured in this and loses his sight. Aemond takes his nephew under his wing and pining and tenderness follows. I adore the hell out of this fic and the way the author has written Lucemond’s dynamic.

Luke Rivers AU — Unusual-Raccoon

It takes quite a bit for me to fully enjoy smut (I’m asexual) but my friend here writes so well that I couldn’t help but to eat this series up. Aemond’s characterization is spot-on, as well — something I really appreciate seeing in fics!!

For the Wildest Mystery I Know — NinthRiver

This only has one chapter up but I adore it already. It features Luke (Lucerys Flowers in this) living a quiet life on his farm when Aemond shows up to turn his life upside down (again) I’m really looking forward to seeing where it goes!

a losing game — monkkeyslut

I recently started this one (late to the game) and it has me hooked. Set in modern times with the Targs as royalty, it incorporates the characters so well. It features a secret relationship between Lucemond, and brings a lot of miscommunication and oblivious idiots in love to the table.

Star-Crossed — DominaReginald

Another one I binged just recently! Luke gets taken hostage by the Greens and Aemond is absolutely down bad whipped for him. *chefs kiss* the best flavor!

you whom i should love above all things — ser_pounce

A modern au featuring a religious Aemond (yes I have a type) Things get steamy between Lucemond during a family holiday get-together and religious guilt and sneaking around pursues. Delicious stuff :)

no morning glory (it was war) — dandelion_weed

Another A/B/O (my beloved) in which Luke presents while in Winterfell. Aemond is very much not down with letting his nephew mate with someone else, so he takes matters into his own hands and heads out to claim Luke for himself. There’s only two chapters for now, but I still highly recommend it.

I said I’d keep this short… that was a lie, wasn’t it? Anyway, I hope you enjoy these fics! I know I did 🫶🏻

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Fairytale AU + Hair Brushing/Braiding

Ah, Elrond/Erestor...and a dash of fairytale vibes! Always a winning combo lol

Sorry for dragging all my blorbos into this LOOOOL

Prompts: Fairytale AU + Hair Brushing/Braiding

Pairing: Elrond x Erestor

Requester: @maglor-my-beloved

Words: 1 130

Warnings: Injury, trauma, doom, nudity, bath scene, Fëanorian Erestor

Once upon a time, in a faraway land that was yet free of the strife of this present day, two young souls sat by a peaceful river’s shore, braiding each other’s hair in a gesture of unmarred affection.

“I shall cherish your design forevermore,” Finwë, future patriarch of a fated line, whispered, and Elwë smiled knowingly.

Soon, though, they were torn apart by destiny.

Many cycles of silver and golden light later, Finwë found himself brushing the hair of his firstborn son—his heir, his cherished boy—and, inspired by the love he had lost, he wove an intricate, intimate pattern into that living silk.

Thus, a hallowed tradition was born on either side of the great divide. For generations, fathers would braid parts of their identity and their most unspeakable well-wishes into the hair of their progeny.

Often hidden but never undone, those tresses spoke of legacies and enduring faithfulness—they spanned ages, becoming ever more complex, and retold the story of a people ever on the brink of desolation.

So it was that, with heavy hearts and three skeletal hands, two notorious kinslayers thusly marked the blessed sons they’d stolen from their intended purpose.

It was with surprise and life-altering emotion that a stubborn, golden-haired princess and her dignified spouse discovered that, despite and beyond their differences, they shared this precious custom. Together, they created a new design for their daughter, interweaving strands that had been set apart by time and providence.

It was with tears in his eyes that a taciturn, irascible hermit looked upon the simple plait a ferocious mortal had put in their sleeping son’s hair.

“So he’ll never forget where he comes from,” Haleth whispered, kissing a burning cheek. “So he might find his people when both of us are gone.”

The one she loved so desperately without being able to save him frowned.

“One day,” she promised, “he’ll be able to trace back these strands of hair to the root of all love. The braid shall lead him home!”

Once upon another time, a valiant leader stood alone in the face of overwhelming evil. He was beaten down mercilessly, and—just as he had accepted that he’d never leave the battlefield alive—a warm hand settled on his hip.

“The day is lost,” a scratchy, breathless voice mumbled. “Come away now and live to fight another day.”

Too weak and injured to protest, Elrond Half-Elven let himself be carried away by Erestor who was stronger, faster, and much more cunning than he looked at first glance.

“I shall bathe you,” Erestor declared as soon as they had reached the camp, “and tend to your wounds.”

When Elrond tried to decline, overcome with a sudden sense of shame and panic, a resolute but tender finger was pressed against his lips like the prelude to a kiss the other didn’t yet feel comfortable dispensing.

“Hush! Your secrets are safe with me!”

Mollified and subdued by the severity of his injuries, the fearless lord mellowed into the caring embrace of his saviour who bore him to a small tent where a copper tub was already waiting to be used.

Servants brought in hot water and clean towels, and Elrond melted into a semi-conscious state of bliss, listening to the soft murmuring of the blurry shapes fading in and out of focus.

It had been many long years since he had last allowed another to gently peel muddied, blood-soaked fabric from his clammy skin, and the very recollection of those hands—drenched in crime and regret—made him sit up with a jolt.

“You must not…” he whispered hoarsely, but already, he could feel nimble fingers comb through the tangled strands of his sweat-matted hair. “I—”

Erestor’s affectionate ministrations slowed to a crawl as he found what his friend had so desperately tried to keep from him—in the face of such stark, unequivocal reluctance, he felt strangely shy and unwilling to cast his eyes down to look upon the discreet braid, burning like a string of hot metal against his palm.

Even though his mind shied away from an identity he had always suspected but never dared confirm, the sensitive tips of his long, sinuous digits deciphered unerringly what his heart might always have known.

“I recognise parts of this design,” he murmured pensively. A wave of heartsick longing threatened to drown him from the inside as he remembered his mother, brushing his hair and sharing all she had been able to learn about his father’s family with him.

Erestor also remembered his father—stern, often distant as if afraid that his mere touch could harm his child, and yet so discreetly and steadfastly loving—and he couldn’t help but wonder what had become of him.

“He thought I was too young to know,” he whispered as if to himself.

“Who? What do you mean?” Elrond articulated painstakingly. The soothing warmth of the herb-infused bath had washed away the last vestiges of his stubborn ferocity, and he felt worn out and dizzy.

With a soft, rueful chuckle, Erestor lifted the obscuring curtain of his dense, dark hair to reveal a gorgeously elaborate tress of his own.

“It is far from being as ornate as yours,” he conceded sheepishly. “Alas, I have fewer legacies to represent and keep alive, but…you are not alone.”

If he had thought that every layer of protection—armour, clothing, and the dignity of his station—had already been stripped from him and that he had nothing left to lose, Elrond now discovered that he had been sorely mistaken.

A weight he had not been fully aware of carrying fell from his soul, and—finally unburdened—his very heart seemed to draw breath for the first time in centuries.

“They have claimed you wholly then,” Erestor said, his voice becoming unsteady as he was shaken to the core by this revelation. At last, he allowed himself to look down and read the labyrinthine story of his dear love’s life, woven in glossy strands that felt more akin to a soothing river on a hot day than to the burning sun itself now.

“How do you know?” Elrond asked, too overcome to play coy.

“My father would only share so much, but—needled and encouraged by my mother’s faith—I have spent a lot of time seeking answers and documenting as much as I could about those lost to horrifying history.”

Spell-bound and stunned into startled silence, Elrond could merely stare at him.

“I shall not undo it,” Erestor promised as he took up his cherished task of carefully washing the abused, battered flesh once more. “Once we get you out of here and into a warm bed, I shall tell you about my findings. Welcome home, little star. You’re much loved still.”

@fellowshipofthefics Here's another one!

Lots of love from me!

-> 🌟Masterlist 🌟

[mariondeux]

hello again 💫 noticed you got a teacher x student request in the meantime, so no pressure to do this one too, but think you may be interested in (Japanese) History Professor Kanzaki x PhD Candidate Transmasc Reader? Perhaps reader is quite close with Dr. Kanzaki and they spend a lot of time together working on research, and with how stressful both of their work gets, they enjoy relieving it on one another.

Just some potential thoughts, praise kink (but he could be a little mean about it. as a treat), fucking reader on his office desk, rough sex in general, maybe some dumbification/mindbreak-esque elements? i can’t see souma being mean for too long, so he might need to reassure his favorite student/colleague that he doesn’t think they’re dumb at the end, lol. poor guy.

thank you for all your hard work writing these requests as well, it is very much appreciated ^^ 🥤

— SYNOPSIS ; Drowning in the pleasure your bodies brought eachother was more than enough to alleviate your stress.

CW ; NSFW, Rough sex, desk sex, cum eating, manhandling, praise kink, dumbification

WORD COUNT ; 547

PAIRING ; History Professor!Souma Kanzaki x PhD Candidate!Transmasc!Reader

A/N ; I think this is my first Souma request? My first would technically be the kinktober thing I think

FEMALE ALIGNED DNI.

His cock continuously plunged into the overwhelming heat of your hole, slick perfectly coating his cock with each thrust. It had only made it so much easier to fuck you in his swivel seat like this. Your professor's arms wrapped around your waist so tightly, making sure you wouldn’t fumble over from the sheer force of his thrusts. The surrounding air was hot and heavy, and the rising temperature of your bodies hadn't helped at all. 

It was like you both had completely forgotten there were papers and two computers filled with nothing but work, as if it was the least of your worries. Your thighs clamped around his seat, biting into the skin of his neck to conceal your sounds of ecstasy.

He pushed you onto his desk carelessly, ignoring the little sounds you let out in reaction to the rough desk rubbing at your back. You bounced against his thrusts so beautifully, his thoughts filled with the way you took his cock. 

“Good boy.. Utterly filthy spreading your legs like this on my desk. You wouldn’t care if you got your cum on my research, would you?” He taunted, using one of his hands to caress your face as he leaned in to press kisses all over your neck.

“Please, anything for you, professor! I’ll be good, just–please let me come on your cock!” You could cry in embarrassment over the words you uttered later. Souma was so unbelievably good at alleviating the stress you both had adorned that it was the only thing you two could focus on. 

“What a dumb puppy. You should see how you look at the moment. You look so beautiful under me.” His groans and the slapping against skin was all you could hear, and god would you want to keep them drilled into your mind for as long as you could. You lost yourself in him, letting him take the reins and control your orgasm to his heart's desire.

Your lovely professor didn’t disappoint, his calloused hands from working fingered at your overly sensitive tiny dick. Your back arched off the desk as you felt yourself completely loosen, accidentally grabbing a paper off his desk and crumbling it into a ball as your cum decorated his cock. Souma grunted, fucking into you a couple more times before slipping out and jerking off. His red cock spasmed, semen following along with each stroke and landing on your body.

You let it happen, body going limp as you tried to even out your breathing pattern. You hadn’t realized how intense fucking tonight would be. Sure, you both have slept together a couple times, but you’re pretty sure this was the first time you both lost yourselves in each other.

He called out your name, catching your attention. You stared at him with a hazy look, still tired from the whole ordeal. 

“I apologize.. For going so rough on you this time. I do not actually think you’re dumb, you’re the smartest being to work by my side,” He swiped at the cum littering your tummy, wiping it off on your lips.

You chuckled, cocking your head to the side as you grabbed his hand, licking the cum off his thumb.

“And you know how to pleasure a man, professor Kanzaki.”

TAGLIST ; @resluv @berrycolaa @noahrandom @1694

[smolcinnamonchipmunk]

Prey who lose a very substantial bet in a Pred run casino and can only pay it back via noms (fatal or non fatal will work for this)

(I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a hot minute, but I never really knew where to go with this. I’m a huge sucker for bar/gambling stuff, but the way I like it is so specific that half the time *I’m* not even sure how to go about it. I was kind of tempted to do something with a Zootopia/Beastars kind of thing but decided to just go with G/t. There are so many kinds of branching ideas/different variations that I might eventually come back to something similar in the future.

I also have ZERO experience with casinos, so, uh, I kind of made some bullshit up with what little I know. Hence the absolute dumbassery of the main character in this, lol. The questions they ask?... Yeah, I was asking them to a friend that’s actually been to casinos and gambled.

That being said, hope you enjoy this! Sorry for, just, how *long* it takes to get to the vore. I speedran 80% of this last night too, so sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes!)

The Unlucky Clover

TW: Drinking; Unwilling, nonsexual, nonfatal, safe, soft oral vore; mention of drugs; implication/fear of digestion

Words: 7663

The lights and sounds as I opened the door and stepped into the casino were disorienting. Overwhelming for people like me who were more of the shut-in type and probably downright dangerous for anyone with phobias or sensitivities to this kind of thing. But, the whole stretch of street was lined with buildings flashing neon lights and music meant to catch passerby’s attention long enough for curiosity to set in so they’ll walk inside. I don’t think anyone came to visit with the thought of peace and quiet in mind.

Logically and cynically I knew that everything was meant to appeal to natural human faults to get people inside and keep them in, but I was also aware that I wasn’t immune to it. And, for tonight, that was fine. I was visiting, I’d never been to a casino, and I only had a set amount of money so that I wouldn’t go bankrupt.

The place I’d happened to walk into was called the Clover, probably meant to try and give people a ‘lucky’ feeling because of the whole four-leafed clover good luck thing. That was my best guess, at least.

Though, there wasn’t much green on the inside that I could see, mostly more attention-grabbing colors like reds and yellows. There also wasn’t a front desk, just a large entry landing that led down to the rest of the casino with a couple steps. There were a few ATMs against the wall beside a few palm plants, but other than that there weren't any, uh, normal entry procedures? 

I don’t know, the closest thing I could think of to a casino that I’d been to were places like Dave & Busters where there was a front desk and people to greet you at it where you buy a game card or something and then you go inside after paying. This was so open and direct to the wall of slot machines between the entrance and the rest of the casino, it almost felt like trespassing. 

But, what was more awkward? Standing around by the entrance to try and figure out where to go and what to do? Or wandering around doing the same thing, but you’re moving, so people are less likely to bother you?

I opted for the wandering around option.

I tried to not look as lost as I felt as I forced myself down the steps from the entry landing and walked past the first line of slot machines through a decently large gap between some. But, it wasn’t just one wall of machines. There were several rows in a weird staggering kind of pattern that I had to weave through to continue forward. Coupled with pillars, seats, and so many people, I almost immediately felt drained. 

At the very least, I could see that people were just feeding the machines with cash bills. I knew gambling involved chips a lot, but I had no idea how those worked.

Past the initial, practically defensive wall of slot machines, there were more further inside, but they were scattered around the place instead of clumped up in such a hassling way. Probably to tempt drunk, desperate or tired people to think ‘Oh, just one more game’ and potentially milk whatever winnings someone earns back before they leave. 

There were all kinds of game tables around and I could even see two mini bars on the floor. Poker, that weird game where you drop a ball and it lands in a wheel, someone was even playing some kind of VR gambling thing, and several other games that I probably knew the name of but wouldn’t be able to correlate to the unfamiliar tables and movements. And that was only what I could see, there seemed to be even more past pillars and machines that were all around the room.

Finding the main room a bit much for now, I decided to try one of the slot machines, sitting down at an empty machine and pulling out a dollar. Start off small, right?

I watched someone out of the corner of my eye so that I did the machine right, mimicking their motion and watched the little images flick by. Was it triple 7’s that were good? Was it different for each machine? There was probably some way to do this and I probably already fucked up, somehow, but I just told myself that I had a hundred dollar limit. Even if I lost it all just messing around with things, it wasn’t a huge loss.

The machine made its three noises as the images stopped on… a triple cherry? I wasn’t sure what that meant, but the little screen beneath the three pictures flashed “5$! 5$! CASH OUT OR KEEP PLAYING?”. So, I guess I earned four dollars? Curious, I selected “Keep Playing”. It asked me if I wanted to bet the five dollars or give it more physical money to use. I decided to give it another dollar and spun it again. This time, the slots were all mixed up and it gave nothing back other than the words on the screen, “OOPS! BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!”.

Letting out a small hum, I nodded to myself as I filed away the new information. Scrambled icons meant a lost bet, got it.

So, I spent the next little while at the slot machines, alternating between giving the machine physical cash and using the winnings I slowly began to accrue. I got really excited when a ten dollar bet returned fifty dollars with another triple cherry and a few more dollars amounted to smaller winnings that also added, but my energy quickly began to fade as several more tries at the machine led to jumbled icons that meant another dollar wasted. Any remaining interest and excitement that wasn’t dwindled away turned into dismay when another play on the slots gave me three bomb icons that ‘destroyed’ whatever winnings were in the machine.

Whatever questioning I had about why people couldn’t just keep playing all night instead of cashing out low numbers was now answered.

“Goddamnit,” I hissed to myself under my breath, not even able to hear my voice over the drone of the casino. I mentally tallied how much money I’d lost to the machine and was relieved that I had seventy-eight dollars still, only having lost twenty-two to the slots. And I probably would have lost a lot more to my hubris and ignorance if the triple bomb hadn’t popped up.

Letting out a long exhale, I pushed aside the instinctive craving to continue and stood up. Weaving through people walking around and the gaming tables in the way, I walked to one of the bars in the massive room. I was thinking that, at the very least, I could have a drink or two to make coming here feel somewhat worth it before leaving even if I lost the rest of my hundred dollar allotment.

There were a couple people at the bar counter on the available stools, but most people seemed to just be walking up and grabbing their drinks to take back to whatever game table they were playing at. 

I decided to sit at one of the stools near the end of the small bar, thankfully devoid of immediate bar neighbors on either side. I barely even settled and had the thought of what I potentially wanted to drink before the bartender quickly came over. Given the amount of activity and noise, I had been expecting at least a second to gather my thoughts before I was noticed.

“‘Ey, what can for you,” the bartender greeted, a woman in a black and green uniform. It looked nice, black button-up shirt and pants with a green swirly designed vest. There was a nametag, but I was too caught off guard to read it.

“Oh, uh, you guys do Amaretto Sours,” I asked, reaching for my wallet.

“Got everything for practically any named drink you could think of,” she replied, immediately pulling out a glass and shaker from behind the counter. “ID?”

I showed her my card showing that I was over twenty-one, and she nodded, quickly moving around the bar as she added the ingredients to the shaker and scooped ice into the glass from something behind the counter.

“Orange or lemon wedge,” she poured the drink into the glass over the ice and spun around to open the fridge.

“Uh, lemon wedge, I guess.” I’d never gotten Amaretto Sours with lemon wedges before.

“Alright, here you go,” the bartender turned back around with the finished drink, complete with the familiar single maraschino cherry and a lemon slice placed on the lip of the glass. She placed the glass down in front of me and turned to tend someone else at the counter, but I tried to catch her attention.

“Uh, wait,” I said, feeling a bit awkward when she turned back towards me. Sheepishly, I asked, “Don’t I, uh, need to pay?”

She blinked at me in surprise and confusion, replying, “Well, you’re not leaving the counter yet, are you?”

“I, well, no, but I’d rather pay for each upfront if that’s alright,” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling like that was a very laissez faire way to go about alcohol payments. Then again, my experience was limited to only a few bars and this place had security, so maybe they were just really confident that would dissuade people from stealing or leaving without paying. 

Besides, I couldn’t exactly start a proper tab without my card.

“Suit yourself,” the bartender shrugged after a couple moments, reaching for a card reader attached to the belt on her hip and pulling it off. She punched in a few buttons as I pulled out a ten - I decided she could keep the change if they couldn’t break a ten at the bar - and read out, “Alright, your total for one Amaretto Sour is-.”

“Taken care of.”

I jolted at the sudden voice from my right side, almost knocking over my glass as I looked over to see who was there. A tall dude who felt way too well-dressed compared to half the casino in vacation wear approached the counter on my right, basically taking the space and making a part of me grumble internally at the proximity. Giving him a glance over he had dark brown hair that was styled short and looked like he probably used some kind of gel or pomade, and his shirt was almost black compared to the far lighter tan of his pants.

“Uuuuh,” I frowned in confusion and surprise, trying to process his sudden appearance.

“Put it on my tab,” the man told the bartender, tapping the bar with a finger and I found my attention momentarily drawn to the glint of the rings on his hand in the casino light. There were three, one on every proper finger other than his middle.

Whoever this guy was, he must have been here earlier and given them his card already because the bartender nodded and printed a receipt to probably add to whatever other drinks the guy’s card had to charge him at the end of the night.

“I- you-you didn’t have to buy my drink,” I said automatically, the bartender already turned to take care of other customers. Unless I wanted to draw attention to myself trying to push for her to charge me instead, I was just going to have to live with the fact that this guy bought my drink. At least I already watched this one get poured, so I knew nothing was in it. That still didn’t stop the suspicion that came from some random person buying my drink.

“I know I didn’t have to, but I occasionally like to buy a couple people’s drinks when I'm here,” the man leaned on the counter with his forearms. I could see a couple people giving me some envious looks out of the corner of my eye that made me feel more self-conscious. Not like I *asked* him to buy my drink. “Name’s Arnoldo.”

“Right… well, thanks, I guess,” I took a sip from my drink, hoping that the man - pardon me, *Arnoldo* - would take the hint and just kind of… leave me alone.

Of course, he didn’t. 

“You ever been here before,” he asked, dangerously close to the cheesy kind of pickup line that everyone knew about and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Nope,” I replied, wondering how rude chugging my drink and just walking away would be. I settled for just taking another, larger swig of the Amaretto Sour, internally sighing and hoping that he would eventually become bored and walk away if I forced myself to only give small responses.

“Hmm,” Arnoldo seemed to struggle with my short reply, eventually saying, “Well, how are you liking it so far?”

“Uh, it’s alright, I guess,” I shrugged, glancing back towards the rather overwhelming room. “Bit loud for my tastes, but I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Well, it is a casino. They’re not exactly known for being the quietest places on Earth,” the man chuckled, making my face heat up a bit in embarrassment.

“Well, I know that, but you asked how I liked it,” I took an embarrassed gulp of my drink, focusing on the burn it caused down my throat to try and distract me from it. “I was just being honest…”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean it any type of way,” Arnoldo quickly responded, seeing him raise his hands a bit in the universal gesture of meaning no harm. The motion caught my attention and I looked over to see him look mildly apologetic. Giving him a bit more of a look, he seemed friendly, at least. I still wanted to keep up my guard, of course, but he sounded sincere. “I just think it’s kind of funny that someone would comment on something so expected. I take it that you don’t get out much then.”

“Not really, no,” I said, swirling my glass. “Coming here was kind of just a bucket list, giving it a try sort of deal. ”

“Well, what have you tried so far?”

“Uh… slots?”

“That… That’s it,” Arnoldo asked, raising an eyebrow. He shifted to look at me a bit more fuller, leaning entirely on his right arm as he turned to face me. “I hope you were at least going to try one of the other games. Just playing slots isn’t a very good experience.”

“I don’t know, maybe. I don’t know how any of the other games work,” I downed the rest of my glass anxiously, not really wanting to divulge that I had been planning to immediately leave. Placing the glass on the counter, it was quickly swept away by the bartender, who was quick to place it out of sight where used cups were probably stacked to be cleaned.

“You wanting another one,” she asked, and before I could respond to her, Arnoldo did.

“Put it on my tab if they’re getting another,” he said, giving the counter a tap. “And I’ll actually have an Irish Coffee for myself.”

I frowned, not really wanting all of my drinks to be on him, but sighed. “I guess I’ll have another Amaretto Sour… I should probably head out soon, I have to go meet a friend back at the hotel later.”

A lie, but maybe the thought of someone expecting me somewhere would prevent the guy from trying anything. Especially with another drink on the way.

The bartender nodded and started making both of our drinks, something I tried to keep an eye on still.

“I won’t stop you from leaving, but surely I can try and help you try some other type of game,” Arnoldo suggested, gesturing to the rest of the casino floor. “I’m sure you can get a hang of Blackjack, at least.”

“Uhh, which one’s Blackjack,” I asked, grabbing my glass as the bartender slid it to me and watching her walk over to the tiny coffee pot that had started boiling. Having seen nothing be poured or placed in my drink other than the normal ingredients, I took a sip as I mulled over the potential danger of accepting his offer to help me play a game. 

“Card game,” he said, looking towards where I assumed the Blackjack tables were. “Basically, everyone gets handed a card at a time and can ask for another card or to stay and hold their number. You’ve got the Ace’s through ten which amount to the number they are with the Jacks being eleven, Queens being twelve, and the Kings being thirteen. The aim of the game is to try and get as close to the number twenty-one without going over against the dealer. Whoever gets the closest to twenty-one, or whoever gets twenty-one gets the amount they bet from the dealer. During home games, whoever gets closest gets the pot.”

“... Pot?” I asked, frowning a bit in confusion. The surprised look on his face told me that I’d questioned something rather basic.

“The pot is the collective of chips people bet on the game,” Arnoldo explained, smiling in amusement. 

“Oh,” I sighed in exasperation at myself, planting my face in my palm with a groan. “I- sorry. You were explaining the mechanics of the game, so I thought it was a game thing…”

“Well, it is a game thing, but that’s just what the bets are called across the board.”

“Cool, cool. Well, learn something new everyday,” I dropped my hand from my face and took a swig of my drink. Even if I felt embarrassed to all hell, at least I still had the alcoholic tang of my Amaretto Sour.

“If you’re willing, I can help you out with one round,” he said, grabbing his Irish Coffee as the bartender finished it up and placed it on the bar counter.

I hummed a bit in thought. Part of me wanted to just go to the hotel I was staying at and just chill for the rest of the night. But, another part of me was curious about the other games, and if someone was willing to kind of show me the ropes, then my curiosity was peaked a bit further. And damn if I wasn’t a sucker for my curiosity. 

“Eh, fine,” I swiveled in my barstool and hopped off with my drink in hand. “One game, then I’ll probably head out.”

“Sounds good to me,” Arnoldo straightened from his leaning position. I didn’t realize how tall he was while he was leaning beside me, but when he stood up I had to crane my neck to look up at him. I don’t even think I was shoulder height for him. He took a sip of his Irish Coffee and started walking towards one of the tables, saying, “Blackjack’s this way.”

“Uh, right,” I trailed behind him as he walked towards the tables. Whether he was mindful of his stride for me or he was slowed by the amount of people walking around, I was just glad I wouldn’t have to awkwardly trot behind him or speedwalk with the risk of spilling my drink. Eventually he slowed beside a semi-circle table with a person in green and black uniform on the flat side and an empty curved side with markings on the green surface. The table could hold five people along the edge, so with Arnoldo and I it left three spaces for others.

“Hey there,” the man behind the table greeted, pausing in his shuffling of cards.”Welcome to Blackjack! You waiting on anyone else?”

“No, no, just my friend and I here for now,” Arnoldo stated, placing his Irish Coffee in the cupholder at his spot. 

I did the same for my drink at my spot after taking another long swig of it. I could already feel the slight fuzziness that came with becoming tipsy, so I decided that two was good enough for me.

“Alright, how much are each of you betting,” the dealer asked, shuffling the cards one last time before placing the deck face-down in front of himself.

“Uh, ten dollars,” I said, pulling out a ten and handing it to the dealer. He put the cash in a pack on his hip and placed a single chip with the number ten on its side in the little circle icon in front of my spot. 

“I’ll be betting fifty,” Arnoldo drank from his Irish Coffee for a moment. The dealer didn’t ask for any cash and Arnoldo didn’t offer any cash or card. Yet, despite that, the dealer nodded and pulled out a chip with ‘50’ on its side and placed it in his circle.

I didn’t make a comment, shrugging internally. The guy did say that he was here often, so he was probably recognized. That, and if he had a tab already going, then the staff might have a way of knowing whose card was at the bar.

The dealer took a card off the top of the deck three times and placed one in front of himself, Arnoldo, and I. Respectively, the numbers ended up as ‘10’, ‘5’, and ‘8’. He looked between us and asked us if we wanted to stay or continued, and we obviously both decided to continue. All of us ended up less than ‘21’ still, with the closest being Arnoldo at ‘17’ with a Queen added to his cards. One more round went around and I ended up with ‘20’ while both the dealer and Arnoldo went over twenty-one.

“Congratulations on your first win,” Arnoldo said as the dealer reached into the chip holder and grabbed a ten chip to slide towards me. “You’ve doubled your chips with it.”

“What about your chip,” I asked, gesturing to his fifty chip before grabbing my Amaretto Sour and drinking some more for a moment.

“Since the dealer and I both went bust in the same turn, it’s considered a tie here,” he explained, drinking the last of his Irish Coffee. He flagged down one of the staff walking around with drinks and empty glasses on trays, placing his glass on the tray with a ‘Thank you’ and ordering another Irish Coffee. I suppose they floated around in case people didn’t want to leave their tables to go to one of the bars. “Neither I or the dealer pays the bet.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” I glanced down towards my two ten dollar chips. It wasn’t a substantial leap, but it also hadn’t been a substantial bet. And yet, I felt a bit of serotonin at the win that mixed with the warm buzz pleasantly.

“Are you playing another round,” the dealer asked, reshuffling the card deck.

Arnoldo didn’t answer first this time like he had with the bartender, instead looking at me expectantly to let me answer. I hummed a bit, checking my phone to check the time for a second before shrugging and going, “Sure, why not? All in.”

I slid my second ten dollar chip into my betting pool and Arnoldo nodded, adding, “I’ll also play another round.”

The dealer nodded and we proceeded to play again. And again. And again.

More people even came and joined the table to play between rounds, and I wasn’t as anxious with my one and a half glasses of alcohol in my system. I would even hazard to say that I was enjoying myself, even as I lost a round that I had bet twenty dollars on. It wasn’t that disheartening when I’d managed to double my bets a couple times with more money than I came in with in the amount of chips.

At some point I decided to try some other games at Arnoldo’s suggestion, taking my glass with me and the chips I’d gathered. The glass felt heavier, but attributed it to my buzz since it still just tasted like Amaretto Sour to me.

I tried Poker, but only played a few rounds since I found it difficult to bluff, though I did win the last game surprisingly. Taking sips between games, we played Baccarat, Craps, Roulette, and I eventually found that we’d made our way back to another Blackjack table. My head swam at this point, but I was having a good time, taking another swig of my drink as I won another Blackjack game with a full ‘21’.

“Yes,” I exclaimed, the rush of serotonin more prominent in my drunken state. The dealer handed me a hundred dollar chip that I added to my collection that had slowly grown over the night. I think I had about five hundred dollars worth of chips on me.

“You’re having much more luck than I,” Arnoldo sighed, crossing his arms after sliding his bet of fifty dollars to the dealer that accepted with a smile and placed it in the box. The man tapped a finger against the table, rings glinting, and suggested, “How about a round of Ultimate Texas Hold’em?”

“What’s that,” I asked, sipping my Amaretto Sour and leaning on the edge of the Blackjack table.

“It’s like Poker,” he started to explain, laughing when I made a face. “Now, hold up, hear me out. It’s only against the dealer, not the dealer and everyone at the table, so you should have an easier time of it. There’s a few other rules that I think would make it easier for you as well.”

“Mmmm, yeah, why not,” I straightened, making sure I had my chips and everything else. Thankfully, I hadn’t lost my wallet or phone despite my brain feeling so light from alcohol.

I followed Arnoldo to a different corner of the casino floor, checking my phone on the way. I probably should go soon, it was already after midnight. Though the casino was open 24/7, I could tell that I was properly drunk and questioned if I was going to have gaps in my memory tomorrow, wondering just how much Amaretto liquor was in my drinks.

Reaching the Ultimate Texas Hold’em table, which was just another Poker table, Arnoldo tried to explain the game to me. I tried to listen and retain the information, but it slipped through my memory immediately. Oh well, I’d just have this be my last game of the night. 

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head out after this,” I told Arnoldo, seeing him flick his wrist to look at his watch and check the time, nodding his head.

“Better make this one count then, huh?” he asked, settling in one of the chairs.

“Yup,” I sat down and chugged the rest of my drink, finally finishing it after a couple hours of games. I felt like I should have finished it a long time ago, but better late than never. I placed the glass down and heard the dealer ask about our bets, hearing Arnoldo say ‘five’ something, immediately thinking he said ‘five hundred’ and telling the dealer, “I’ll match.”

I saw them blink in surprise before shrugging and the game started. I could barely focus, the numbers and symbols on the cards practically swimming in front of my eyes, so I wasn’t surprised when I ended up losing to the dealer. I groaned and sighed as I tossed down my hand in defeat, pulling out my chips and sliding them towards the dealer.

“And, the other forty-five hundred,” the dealer asked, the question catching me off guard in my tired and drunk stupor.

“I- forty-five hundred?” I repeated in confusion, looking at the dealer with a frown. 

“Mr. Lason bet five thousand and you said you’d match,” the dealer said, nodding towards Arnoldo who was sipping on another drink.

“I..” I blinked a bit in slack-jawed surprise, jolting in my seat. “Sh-Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t have anything more than my chips other than, like fifty dollars! I left my card to try and not have this happen. Is there, uh, is there a way I can pay in increments?”

The dealer frowned and opened their mouth to say something, but Arnoldo interrupted, pulling his glass from his lips and offering, “How about you play another round? Double or nothing. If you win, you get ten thousand.”

“But if I lose again, that just means I owe ten thousand,” I protested, any pleasantness from drinking gone. Now it was only the fuzzy swimming of my scrambled thoughts and panic as I realized that I’d unintentionally fucked up.

“True, true,” Arnoldo placed his glass down and seemed to think something over, though it seemed fake to me. Maybe that was the alcohol. After a second or two, he suggested, “How about this? Since I suggested it, if you lose, you just have to let me get you one last drink and you won’t have to worry about the payment.”

“I- What,” I asked, shaking my head in confusion. I couldn’t have heard him right. “You want me to play one more round, and if I lose I don’t have to worry about the payment and you’ll just get me one last drink?”

“That’s correct,” he replied, waiting for my response.

A bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, but I didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or the panic of potential debt to a casino. Arnoldo was giving me an out, even willing to take responsibility of my loss. I just hoped he wouldn’t go back on his word.

“I-I guess I don’t have many options,” I sighed, trying to shake off my drunken daze. I needed to be as clear-headed as possible for this next round, but I doubted I’d be able to win. At the very least, I only had to have one last drink. “Thanks, Arnoldo.”

Looking at the dealer, I begrudgingly said, “Double or nothing.”

The dealer nodded, dealt the hands, and I found myself beat within minutes despite trying my hardest to focus and win. I could feel a stress headache coming on, but at least the ordeal was over. I looked towards Arnoldo, half-expecting the man to not even be there to leave me with a ten thousand dollar mistake. But, he was still sat there in his seat and flagged over one of the walking staff's attention to order me another drink.

“Well, you tried your best,” Arnoldo placed his glass on the waiter's tray, glancing at them and adding, “Amaretto Sour, please.”

“Didn’t make much of a difference,” I groaned, scrubbing my face with both hands for a second as the waiter walked away. Looking towards him, I apologized, “I’m so sorry I fucked up like that, but thank you *so* much. I really owe you, dude.”

Even though I had zero idea of how to repay the favor.

“Well, good news is that I’m pretty sure that’ll be easy to do.”

“Really,” I asked, surprised. And a bit suspicious.

Arnoldo let out a confirmative hum as the waiter came back with my drink rather quickly thanks to our close proximity to one of the bars, grabbing the glass while I groaned and buried my face in my hands tiredly with the feeling of shame and embarrassment. I looked up after a moment, taking the glass as he held it out to me with a quiet thanks.

I drank a swig of the drink, grimacing with the knowledge that I was going to wake up with a lot of regret tomorrow and asked, “Do I have to drink all of the glass?”

“No,” Arnoldo shook his head. “A sip was fine. I’m not gonna stop you if you want to finish it.”

“That- Okay,” I said in confusion, shaking my head to try and clear it before taking another sip. I stood up with the intent to return the cup and added, “Well, thank you again. I really need to head to my hotel though.”

“I don’t think you’re in much shape to be left on your own,” the man replied, though he didn’t stand up from his seat.

“It’s not too far, I think I can handle the walk,” I turned to walk to the closest bar, barely making a few steps before a wave of dizziness washed over me. I gasped in surprise, quickly reaching out to catch myself as my knees buckled beneath me. An arm around my abdomen stopped me from falling all the way to the ground and a hand caught my drink, though it did end up spilling.

“Oh dear,” Arnoldo’s voice was right beside me and I was helped to my feet. “Perhaps that last drink was a bit much with the ones you’d already had.”

“I-I don’t know why they’re affecting me so much,” I frowned, head swimming more. It took a considerable amount of effort to not slur in my nauseousness. “I only had two.”

“You had a bit more than two,” the man replied, confusing me further. He walked to the bar and handed the bartender the glass. I think they asked if I was alright, but another wave of dizziness had me mostly just focusing on not hurling. I just heard Arnoldo’s answer. “Don’t worry, they’ll be taken care of.”

My vision swam as he walked me from the bar, closing my eyes against the feeling and opening them blearily. In what felt like less than a second, the surroundings were a normal hallway. It took me a bit of effort just to ask, “Where are you taking me?”

“My office,” Arnoldo said, just as we reached a door at the end with a plaque on the front. He opened the door and stepped into a fancy-looking office. There were cushy-looking chairs in front of the desk and he maneuvered me into one, commenting, “If I knew you were going to be such a lightweight, I wouldn’t have replaced your drinks as much as I did.”

“You replaced my drinks,” I asked in alarm, almost doubling over as a fresh wave of nausea hit me.

“I did, yes,” the friendly demeanor from the man was still kind of there, but it felt fake now. Now he spoke politely but sounded very business-like. “I didn’t put anything in them if that’s what you’re worried about. Well, not until the last one. You were a lot luckier than I was expecting, so it took longer than I thought.”

“Wh-What did?”

“You becoming indebted to the casino,” Arnoldo nonchalantly walked to a glass cabinet against the office wall, taking out a container of what I assumed was alcohol and poured himself a glass. “We run a clean establishment here, so no one can be indebted by betting more than they have.”

“Wha- Why indebt *me* then,” I exclaimed, not even sure if that was grammatically correct but not caring with my mind swirling from the alcohol and my thoughts. I watched him walk back to the desk and lean backwards against its front edge while sipping his drink. With my hunched over and nauseous position in the chair, he seemed even taller than before.

“Luck of the draw,” he replied. “Sometimes, I feel a bit peckish so I walk around the casino to look for unsavory folks. Sadly, there weren’t any around tonight and you seemed like a rather easy mark.”

I blinked a bit in confusion, struggling to wrap my head around his statement. He felt kind of hungry and decided to purposefully try to have me lose to the casino and go into debt? That literally made no sense to me. Was I in some kind of drunken fever dream? I supposed my confusion was very apparent on my face because he sighed as though this was incredibly inconvenient to him.

“You’ll see when it kicks in fully,” Arnoldo said, taking another swig from his glass. 

Eyes widening with the fear of being roofied, I opened my mouth to try and demand what he meant, but yelped when another wave of nausea interrupted me. Not just nausea, but dizziness and sudden soreness over my entire body. I must have blacked out or passed out because the next thing I registered was opening my eyes against light that felt too bright and pushed myself up from a laying down position. Blinking away colored spots in my vision, I thought that I had to be dreaming.

There was no fucking way that I was actually suddenly tiny on the chair I’d been sitting on.

“There we go,” Arnoldo’s voice caught my attention, making me yelp in panicked surprise when I looked towards it and saw him. He was still leaned against the desk, but now he was absolutely *towering*. He straightened, placed his glass down on the desk and reached towards me on the chair seat, easily scooping me up in his hand despite me quickly trying to scramble away.

“A-Ah, what the fuck, p-put me down,” I shouted, struggling in panic against his hold as I was lifted. I could feel his fingers shift to get a better grip on me, his other hand cupping beneath me, probably in case I managed to wriggle from his grasp.

“Hey, hey, keep squirming like this and I might end up dropping you,” he said. Not threateningly, just as a fact.

That didn’t dissuade me from it whatsoever, not until I realized how high I was in comparison as I saw the floor far down below. My body was torn between continuing to struggle and holding onto one of the fingers to try and increase my chances of not falling to the ground. It eventually decided that falling would be worse for now, instinctively clutching onto one of the fingers around my waist and legs, while I repeated to myself, “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.”

“Sadly, for you, it is,” Arnoldo walked around the desk and settled in the chair behind it while holding me in front of his face. Eyes that seemed friendly before now had a glint that sent a shiver down my spine. “And you’re about to repay the little favor of looking past your debt. At least a portion of it. Ten thousand is an awful lot, you know.”

“I- Wha- What favor requires me to be-be… f-fucking tiny,” I exclaimed, struggling against the surrealism of the situation and my residual drunkenness. If this was a nightmare, it felt very real and terrifying.

“Like I mentioned before, I tend to do this when feeling peckish. It’s a particular kind of hunger,” he replied, reaching across the desk to the glass of alcohol he’d set down before, taking a brief sip before placing it down. “Let’s say… hmmm, I believe a thousand dollars per session seems fair, no? No more than a day for each. Of course, I’ll need to take into account your availability, unfortunately. I can’t exactly have you missing for more than a week straight. Cou-.”

“W-Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupted him, mind swirling as I tried to comprehend what he was saying. “What are you talking about?! What the fuck do you mean by ‘session’, and I’d rather not go fucking missing at *all*!”

“Dear, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I don’t think spelling it out for you is going to help,” Arnoldo furrowed his brow a bit, looking slightly concerned. Mostly, though, he looked a bit impatient and irritated at being interrupted. Not to mention that he still had a look in his eye that seemed to intensify. “Hmm, you may be too incapacited for any logistics talk… Well, we can discuss arrangements in the morning when you’re sobered up. For now, let’s get your first night out of the way.”

“I- wh-what are you talking about, what do you mean, woAH, WOAH, WOAH,” I cried out in panic as I was shifted closer to his face and a little above. The hold on me shifted so that the backs of my hoodie and shirt were pinched between the first two fingers and thumb of his hand, and his mouth opened to reveal the inside. I saw strings of saliva break, teeth the size of my head, and the tongue that extended slightly to cover the lower incisors. Surely, just surely, none of this was real, right? There was no way that I was this small and there was no way that I was about to be eaten, right?

Regardless of what I thought, I was jolted from my shock as I realized that I was being lowered towards his jaws, protesting and trying to tuck my legs beneath me. I could feel his breath against my ankles, could smell the alcohol and coffee on his breath from drinking earlier, and felt the humidity already start to dampen my shins.

The tongue shifted as I was lowered, extended further and curled beneath my feet to forcibly straighten my legs, something I tried to kick and squirm against. It amounted to nothing, grimacing as my legs were lowered into his mouth and immediately felt saliva soak into my pants on contact with his tongue. It bucked beneath me, licking at my legs for a second before more of me was lowered inside. I tried to brace my feet against the roof of his mouth but found myself unceremoniously forced the rest of the way into jaws, the fingers retreating and teeth clicking shut before I could try to clamber out.

“A-Ah, let me out,” I shouted in panic, knowing my cries would fall on deaf ears given that he didn’t react to any of my other protests. The space barely felt big enough to fit me, able to feel the tongue shifting beneath my back, ridges of his palette against my hands as I tried to press away, and the feeling of his throat against my ankles.

The tongue beneath me jolted and bucked, making me yelp in fear as it started lapping at me, soaking me in drool that clung to my clothes and hair. I squirmed against the movements of the tongue, my arms and legs shaking from fear and exertion as I struggled. Everything rumbled around me for a second and I realized that he was making a pleased hum that rattled me to my bones as though I was a mouthful of delicious food. Which, given the fact that he was fucking EATING ME, I probably was to him. The thought wasn’t pleasant.

After several seconds of intense tasting that left me gasping for breath, I blinked in confusion at some nudging from the tongue. Confusion that turned into more fear and terror as I realized that he was situating me closer to his throat to be swallowed, barely able to register what was happening before my ankles were tugged harshly and a loud swallow overwhelmed my senses.

I was dragged down into his esophagus, pushed and pulled by his throat muscles that constricted around me, making it hard to take in a breath. Blood rushed in my ears, the sound overshadowed by Arnoldo’s breathing and heartbeat as I was forced past. Seconds that felt like forever went by until I slipped into the more open space of his stomach, the air permeated with the scent of alcohol and coffee despite there barely being any at this point.

I tried scrambling to my feet to press as far away from everything, but the constantly moving walls and malleable lining made it difficult, falling back into the nearest wall and flinching.

“Mmm, you’re safe, by the way,” Arnoldo hummed a bit more above me, and I was able to feel him shift. There was a slight increase of pressure on one side of the stomach, making me flinch away. “I doubt you believe me, but I’m not going to say ‘no’ if you want to continue struggling.”

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I’M SAFE,” I shouted, instincts not helping me stop freaking the fuck out. Being eaten wasn’t supposed to be *safe*! I wanted to scoot away from everything, but there was no way to get away from the stomach I was inside of. The moving walls didn’t help with my swirling head.

“I mean that you’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen with you in there,” he replied, shifting again. I was confused for a second when I heard a very faint sound before realizing it was papers rustling. “You’ll be there until morning, where you’ll be let out so we can discuss your other ‘sessions’.”

I struggled to think, trying to recall what he’d said earlier about the sessions past the fear of the situation, eyes widening and exclaiming, “W-Wait, I’ll have to do this n-nine more times?! Y-You can’t be serious!”

“I am. I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice. You’re still technically indebted. I gave a deal where you wouldn’t worry about payment by accepting a last drink, leading to this arrangement. If you’d prefer, you *could* try to scrape up enough money to pay the ten thousand dollars.”

I quieted, not certain how serious he was. My mind was also still doing spins, part of me wondering in panic if he was lying entirely about it being safe or if he’d let me die if I refused this ‘deal’. A large part was still in denial about any of this being real. Was I not able to focus due to being drunk or was I exhausted?... What time was it?...

Arnoldo decided to take my prolonged silence as either acceptance or thought, which was kind of correct. He hummed a bit and said, “How about we talk about it in the morning, hmm? Give you the time to sleep on it and process.”

“I-I guess,” I replied. Grumbling tiredly, I rubbed my hands against my face to try and clear my head, my eyes feeling far more droopy than before. “God, I hope this is just a nightmare and I’m going to wake up…”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

[mrs-gucci]

A Beach Day to Remember {Clyde Logan x Reader}

author’s notes: made it just under the wire for this week’s writer wednesday :) it’s a bit different from my usual writing MO, but I honestly had a blast with it and I’m decently pleased with how it turned out, actually. I wrote this late at night while I was half-asleep lol so sorry if it’s a little all over the place! thanks, as always, to @autumnleaves1991-blog for hosting & @clydesducktape​ for helping out! it’s such a great and fun weekly tradition!

warnings: fluff. humor. romance. beach fun. chair wrestling. a quick lil makeout session (nothing explicit). 

no tw’s :)

word count: 2.2k

clyde’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings​ my general taglist peeps!  @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight​ @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy​ @I-can’t-draw-faces @ahsoka1 @safarigirlsp​ @babbushka

By some miracle, you’d convinced born-and-raised country boy Clyde Logan to accompany you to Miami Beach for a week. A whole week, you couldn’t believe it. 

And...he actually bought a pair of swim trunks. Sure, they were a West Virginia Walmart buy, but hey, he bought a pair; you’ll take what you can get.

Who was this man and what has he done with Clyde Logan?

He’s never really been to the beach before, Mamma Logan didn’t like bein’ in the sun too long and Pappa wasn’t about to cross her, so this was his first time. 

Your family used to vacation here every year, so you were relatively familiar with the notoriously rowdy town. The first evening and night consisted of you showing a wide-eyed Clyde around Miami’s bustling night life. But, when the sun came up the next morning, he was revving to get down to the beach.

You had to talk him down a bit there at first, convincing him to eat somethin’ for breakfast before spending a whole entire day in the sun ‘cause if he passes out, he’s on his own getting back to the condo.

“I’m gon’ go get changed fer the beach!” He says excitedly, clapping his hands together and doing a little jog over to the dresser the second you two get back from your sidewalk cafe breakfast.

You smile at his enthusiasm, trying to remember the last time you saw him so openly excited and smiley. After only a few moments of thought, you realize that you’ve never seen him quite like this before. But, you’re certainly taking a liking to vacation Clyde.

Both Mellie and Jimmy requested plenty of photos of, and this is a direct quote, “Clyde’s long, pasty-ass legs in swim shorts”, and you’re nothing if not accommodating...

As soon as he steps out of the bathroom, you quickly say “Smile!” and snap a picture of him in his leaf-pattern hunter green trunks. He frowns, striding over to where you’re standing.

“Hey now pumpkin, who’re ya sendin’ that off to?”

You giggle, typing out his sibling’s contacts into your messages. “Nobody...”

His eyes widen when he sees Jimmy and Mellie’s names. He tries to grab the phone away from you, but as he takes it, his palm accidentally nudges the little ‘send’ icon. 

“G’damnit! I fuckin’ sent it to ‘em!”

You’re cracking up as he frantically tries to somehow un-send the message, despite you trying to repeatedly convince him that there’s literally nothing that can be done at this point; the message is permanent.

Almost immediately, the replies begin to pile in and Clyde quickly puts a hand over his face as your phone chimes continuously.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“‘m never gonna hear the end ‘a this when we get back home.” He groans. “Now they got that picture forever and they’re never gonna stop showin’ it...Oh ma god, they’re gonna put it in our weddin’ slideshow, a-and our future kids ‘re gonna see it, and it’s gonna be shown at ma funeral...”

You laugh, shaking your head as you put your hands on his bare, freckle-painted chest. “Hon, I really wouldn’t worry that much about it. It’ll all blow over in a little bit, I promise. Plus, I now have evidence that you actually came to the beach with me. I have a feeling our future kids won’t believe me when I tell them this story someday.”

Clyde starts laughing, running his hands down the curve of your body before landing on your hips. He pulls you in for a kiss, moving his lips gently against yours.

Your face scrunches when he starts licking into your mouth and the bitter taste of zinc overwhelms your taste buds.

“Mmmm, mmm, Clyde?”

He pulls away, brows furrowed.

“Did you put some zinc on your lips?”

His cheeks turn pink and he looks away bashfully. “Oh, yeah, I did. ‘m sorry, I forgot ‘bout that.”

“It’s alright, no need to apologize.” You chuckle, shaking your head. “I love you.”

He smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead this time, rather than your lips.

“Love ya too, pumpkin.”

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

Clyde’s like a kid at a candy store when he gets down to the beach, quickly putting the cooler down on the sand and dropping his chair down next to it. The sunglasses sit just above the bridge of his zinc-whitened nose as his head moves around to drink in the sights unfolding before him.

You giggle to yourself as you watch him, setting your beach bag down with the cooler before beginning to set up your chair. But your man quickly jumps in and insists on unfolding the chair for you even though, as you’ll soon find out, he has zero idea how to operate a folding beach chair. To be fair, it was one of those older-fashioned ones that had sustained quite a bit of rust.

“Now, how in the world...?” He grumbles, trying to unfold the stubborn thing. He tries just about every method he could think up, at one point he was trying to use his flip-flop equipped foot to aid in the unfolding process, but he still cannot get the damn chair open.

Eventually, a curious (and very entertained) bystander comes over and helps the two of you out with your chairs, and both of you thank them profusely before finally beginning your day at the beach. Clyde remains standing, continuing to look around at all the things happening on the beach while you lay back and open your book to begin reading.

After a bit of sunning time, you and Clyde head down to the water. You keep your feet in the cool water while he stands further in, little waves crashing mid-calf. He finds a nice shell and runs up to put it back at your little setup while you stay and watch as the natural push and pull of the ocean slowly buries your feet in the sand.

Suddenly, a flesh arm comes on your back and a metallic arm scoops behind your knees, lifting you up as you squeal. 

“Clydeeee!”

He laughs, rushing into the water while holding you bridal-style, water splashing up all over both you and him with each of his massive strides. As soon as he knows he’s deep enough, he starts swinging you back and forth.

“One...Two...”

You’re in a fit of laughter, playfully hitting his chest. “Noooooo! Stooopppp!”

“Three!” Clyde tosses you into the blue-green water of the Atlantic as you screech, a big splash accompanying your collision with the surface.

You emerge a moment later, quickly rushing up and jumping into his arms, causing him to fall backwards into the water. He laughs when he resurfaces and splashes you in the face teasingly, to which you respond by doing the exact same thing.

“No more splashin’!” He says, chuckling to himself at the irony of his exclamation.

You laugh, splashing him one more time. “You’re the one that started it, you goof!”

“Now, let’s not play the blame game, pumpkin.” He smiles jokingly, then wraps his arms around your torso, head nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

Both of you spend a bit more time in the water before heading back up to your chairs to dry off in the sun and re-apply sunscreen. Clyde ends up falling asleep, a few shells he found in the water spread out on the top of his thighs as he snoozes.

Only about fifteen minutes later, you look over and put a hand over your mouth to cover the giggles that come when you see that one of the shells has sprouted some legs in preparation for an escape attempt. The creature begins crawling and he starts squirming a bit at the ticklish sensation, clearly beginning to re-awaken from his early afternoon slumber. 

When his eyes blink open and he looks down, he gasps, launching backwards in his chair. Unfortunately, the old-school beach chair already struggles to hold his massive form, so when he jumps back, the chair gives out and breaks clean in half, sending Clyde back into the sand. 

The poor crab is thrust into the sand, but it’s alright, quickly crawling back towards the ocean. You immediately stand up, trying not to laugh too hard until you know he’s completely alright. 

“Oh my fuck...Clyde! Are you okay, hon?”

He nods, chuckling softly. “’m alright, though I can’t say the same for this here chair, though.”

You giggle, helping him sit back up in the sand. When he’s fully sat up, he’s still smiling and laughing, shaking his head.

“Well, I suppose I owe the condo owners a new beach chair.”

--

A full, active day at the beach has you pretty fucking exhausted when you two finally head back up to the condo around four in the afternoon. You take a quick cat nap while Clyde showers, then you hop in and wash off the day’s sunscreen and sand.

While you’re in the shower, Clyde rifles through his duffle and pulls out a little velvet box, popping it open to expose the glittering diamond ring that sits on a little pillow. He smiles at the sight, knowing that tonight’s the night he’s finally gonna ask you to be his forever.

He’s been waiting for the right moment for a short while now, and after the fun y’all had at the beach today and the sunset beach walk he’s planning to take you on before your fancy dinner reservations later this evening...he can’t think of a more perfect time to do it.

You step out of the bathroom and Clyde scrambles to quickly tuck the ring box into his khaki pants pocket. He smooths his hands over the fabric before standing up, face breaking out into a wide smile when he sees the beautiful sundress you’ve got on.

“You’re so beautiful, pumpkin.” He says, smiling as he walks up to you, hands on your hips. “Always so, so beautiful.”

Your expression stretches into a bright, genuine smile as you get up on your tiptoes for a kiss. “Thank you, Clyde. You look awfully handsome yourself this evening.”

“Oh, well, thank ya, darlin’.” His cheeks grow red as he looks down for a moment, shoving his hands down in his pockets. “So, do ya wanna go on a sunset walk ‘fore our reservations?”

You agree, and the two of you head back down to the beach. His fingers fiddle with the little box in his pocket as you walk along the beach. Soon, you reach an old lifeguards stand, painted in brilliant mint green and flamingo pink colors. The ‘No Lifeguard on Duty’ paint is still visible, even after some seeming wear and tear to the outside of the building. 

The sun’s touching down on the horizon line as he guides you up onto the old structure’s small front deck, and you lean over the railing together as the sun sinks down. 

Your head turns to look over at your beloved boyfriend, admiring the way the sherbet sky reflects off of and compliments his alabaster skin. God he’s beautiful, you think to yourself for what has to be the millionth time in your three years of dating Clyde. He’ll forever be the most beautiful man in your eyes.

He turns to you then, standing up with a shaky hand reaching out to take yours. “Uh, Y/N, there’s somethin’...somethin’ I wanna do ‘fore we head off to dinner.”

You nod, eyebrows furrowing.

“Sure, hon. Are you alright, though? You’re shaking a bit.”

“’m alright, pumpkin.”

Clyde nods and then, he sinks down onto one knee, wobbling a bit as he adjusts to the new position. He steadies shortly after and then, he pulls the box out of his pocket and opens it up, exposing the ring he spent hours picking out for you.

You’re in shock, hands over your mouth as he smiles up at you, tears already forming in his eyes.

“Y/N, I-I knew when I first met ya that you were gon’ be the woman I wanted to s...spend the rest of ma life with. Y-Yer so funny ‘n kind ‘n so, so beautiful; yer just...yer perfect, p-pumpkin.”

You feel the tears beginning to spill out of the corners of your eyes as he continues, tears now running down his cheeks as well.

“I love y-ya more than life itself, Y/N, an’ I...I wanna spend the rest of ma livin’ days on this planet by yer side. Will ya...will ya marry me?”

Time seems to stand still for Clyde, then, his nerves overwhelming and overtaking his entire being. The seconds between his final word and your response are some of the longest and most anxious seconds of his life, but damnit, they were well worth it.

“Yes, Clyde, yes. O-Of course I’ll marry you.” You say, smiling as he stands to pull you in for a passionate kiss.

He’s overjoyed, really, heart racing but in the best possible way. You said yes. You’re gonna be his wife, his Mrs. Logan.

“God, I love ya.” Clyde whispers against your lips, pulling the ring from its place on the delicate pillow. “I love ya so, so much, Y/N.”

“I love you t-too, Clyde.” You smile, holding your left hand out for him to slip the ring onto your finger. It’s a perfect fit, and you immediately pull him in for a hug. “I can’t wait to marry you, hon, can’t wait to become Mrs. Logan.”

He grins widely, pressing another few kisses onto your lips.

“Mrs. Y/N Logan, ma beautiful wife, ma forever partner.”

You nod, sniffling softly.

“Your forever partner.”

[mxvladdy]

I can't stress enough 'wows' in tve way you write along with the fact that it's you first few posts (i think? Pls correct me) can you do luci mammon and satan with a reader who takes naps bc of overthinking? They just tug their sleeves and shot them a tired look, while looking down shying away. Also, have a nice day and take the time to be yourself!

Aw thanks fam! I am fairly new to posting my works, I tried twice before this with two different writing blogs but I deleted them both bc I felt discouraged. I’m older now and I feel a lot better about my writing, so third time the charm and all that lol! I’m so glad you like my writing! I know I need some work on grammar and expanding my vocabulary.  

This was a super cute prompt ;.; I hope I did it justice!

Lucifer

He is a mix of jealous and pissed. He wishes he could fall asleep so easily when he gets inundated with too many things at once. But also- just don’t do that? Where were your manners?

He starts noticing your little peculiarity in class. Specifically that you tend to nod off in advance alchemy and rune scripting. You were being so studious, jotting down notes, ask great questions. Next thing he knows you're out like a light.

He is shocked for a moment before he will wake you up. Your wide doe-eyed frown does nothing to him. JK his hearts clench at your wounded look.

He makes the other brothers report to him about your behavior and odd sleep habit. Were you ill? Was this just something humans did? Devils, was Belphie rubbing off on you?

They all say the same thing. One moment you are working hard or talking to them about a topic you are passionate about, and the next you are yawning hard enough to pop your jaw and shyly asking to lay down.

Well-he can’t have that.

If you are going to fall asleep around anyone it’s going to be him.

He sets up remedial lessons with you after dinner to make up for the work slept through. You sit by him at his long ornate desk while he tutors you on what you missed.

You weren't having any problems,  you even finished a few pages. He is proud and then-

“I can almost hear those gears slowing my dear.” Lucifer interrupts himself mid-explanation of Zosimos of Panopolis and Maria the Prophetess's theories of alchemy in human medicine.

You jerk awake and turn to him blinking owlishly. "Yeah, I just need to lay down." You admit.

Lucifer eyes you critically. This was sudden, were you ill? You had been fine moments ago, bright-eyed and enthusiastic. He cups your face, turning it from side to side. "So suddenly? We haven't even discussed the properties of mercury yet." You hum letting your eyes droop. He was always so warm.

"Hour nap break? Please?" His stern gaze softens at how your nose scrunches up cutely as you yawn.

“Very well.” He relents letting you slick over to his couch. You flop over face first with a grunt of satisfaction. You toss and turn for a while, moving his pillows around unsatisfied.

“Luci-” You call in defeat. He ignores you at first. If you wanted to nap fine, he would get some work done in the meantime. “Luci~” You say again. You could see his brow twitching. “Lu-”

“My dear,” He shoots you a withering look. “You are treading a thin line. If you have the energy to call for me you have the energy to study.” You say nothing at his brisk tone, instead of opening your arms to him to join you. “You tempt me.” He purrs hiding his smile behind his paperwork.

“Learned from the best.” Lucifer shakes his head laughing at your smug reply. He glances over you to his grandfather clock. Hmmm-perhaps he could spare a few minutes. He rises elegantly discarding his tie and waistcoat to his abandoned chair. Running a hand through his hair he snorts at your little whistle.

“Move.” He commands. You shake your head patting your belly. “I will crush you.” He laughs but lays over you regardless.

“Good-you’re warm.” You say muffled in his shirt. Wrapping your arms around his middle you drift off. Lucifer holds you close, running a still gloved hand up and down your side. Perhaps he should bring out some more complex topics next time. If this was the outcome-

Mammon

He noticed you get drowsy before in class. Your cute little head jerks as you nod off, hands rubbing at your face as you fight to stay awake before giving in to the need to sleep. It was adorable- not that he was watching you because of that! He was just doing his job of looking out for you

Ye-that was all.

Honestly, he thought you were just like him. He never cared for the books being forced on him in class. Boring useless crap in his opinion. He much rather sleep through a lecture on stats too.

Now books on photography? That's where it's at. He has a legitimate passion for it.

He likes being behind the camera just as much as he likes being in front of it. Though he doesn't snap photos often.

He doesn't need more beratement from his brothers than he already gets. Sides, he just feels like they would look down at this like everything else he does.

He'll share his hobby with you though. You at least seem interested in it. He'll show you his collection of vintage to high-tech cameras and talk your ear off about the makes, models, and features.

You nod along and ask questions from time to time, smiling along with Mammon while he prattles on about color theory next to you on the floor.

He was just getting to Auguste Lumiére when he feels a gentle bump on his shoulder.

"O-oi!" Mammon starts, shaking his shoulder to rouse you. You look up at him, blinking the sleep from your eyes. "Was...was I that boring?" He deflates a little, all previous excitement gone in a flash. You had seemed so interested...

"What? Oh, no. No Mammon I'm sorry. It's really all fascinating," You grab for his sleeve so he couldn't run away. "It was just a lot of information all at once. I just got a bit overwhelmed."

"So you fall asleep?" He raises a brow not believing you for a second. Who falls asleep when something is interesting? He'll admit he's fallen asleep while listening to Levi talk about a new anime or Asmo with a make-up release.  But that's because it had been boring. "Is that like a human thing?"

You shrug snuggling closer. "I don't know- but it's a me thing. Give me five? I'd love to hear you talk more about your collection, promise."

Mammon glows scarlet at your words. "Of course you do!" He puffs out his chest excitedly. “I got great taste.” You nod into his shirt before drifting off again. He tilts his head slightly to look at you chuckling internally when your breathing and heartbeat slow down. Damn, out in seconds. Well, better get comfortable.

Uncrossing his long legs he picks up the camera he had been showing you. The old Polaroid lens reflects his face back at him. He remembered the day Land had debuted this marvel of engineering. He just had had to get his hands on one. It was useless now, he had much better quality cameras than this old thing, but he remembered you reminiscing about your human friends and their portable camera. Would you take some pictures with him too? He would take one now, but the sound of the flash would definitely wake you up.

He fiddles with it for a few more minutes, opening and closing the film canister and checking for any parts that needed fixing as he waits. You stir at his side a few minutes later with a little mew of satisfaction. Mammon hears your joints creak and pop as you stretch. "Morning." He says sarcastically, earning himself a light punch to his shoulder. "Ready to continue?"

You nod eagerly, perky and aware. At least for the moment.

Satan

He didn't really notice at first the pattern of your behavior.

You would come over for book club. Which was really just him reading his current novel and you picking something at random to gain a little random knowledge.

You would find a comfortable position on his bed, curl up nice and small and read. Then after a bit yawn and start to snooze.

He first thought it was the atmosphere of his room. It was quiet, warm, and the sound of flickering candles and the rustle of paper sometimes caused him to doze too.

But when it starts happening outside of class he notices.

Hmmm….this is new.

He looks it up in his human anatomy books and finds nothing.

He's not particularly worried about you per se. You always bounce back quickly after a quick snooze.

Then you start dozing when he is talking… >:(

Like his brother/dad he is a little miffed at first but then your behavior reminds him a cat and he loves you 10x harder now

Satan stops in his pacing of the back gardens. His book of poetry hanging limply in his hand. He had been reciting some of the most fascinating lines of work from Lord Byron's later works and wanted a human's perspective. He had thought you were interested. You never complained before when he asked you out here. Perhaps you were just being polite all those times before. Anything to soothe wrath. He snaps his book shut sharply, take some perverse satisfaction in the way you start out of your light sleep at the noise.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask wiping at your face.

"No point talking to someone that doesn't wish to listen." He snaps tersely.

"Oh-Satan, no I was listening. It...it just got to be so much so fast." You flush. “You had some great points going, I just needed a minute.” He watches your eyes grow heavy again, and it dawns on him.

"Do you just sleep when overwhelmed?" He asks incredulously. In all his years with humans, this was new. You shrug making grabby hands for him to move closer. He scoffs but moves into your space. You grab at the hem of his shirt and pull him down to sit next to you. He goes willingly getting comfortable by your side. You eye his lap longingly, hands clutching around his coat sleeve. “Fine-” He rolls his eyes. “Come here you odd thing.” You smile in triumph and crawl into his lap. Once settled you nuzzle into his warm chest.

“Wake me up in ten? I want to hear more about your conversations with Byron.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He kisses the top of your forehead, opening his book to read again with one hand. You hum at his soft kiss, returning it sleepily with one of your own before passing out again. Ten minutes go by in an instant and Satan looks down at your peaceful face. He smiles to himself, perhaps he’ll let you sleep for a little while longer. You’d need it for his next point.  

[fallingappleshurt]

im in the mood for angst, so for your dff au, could you please writing a one shot or smth along those lines of techno coming home from a particularly tough duel and everybody else’s reactions? ty!!! <33

YES HELLO I WRITE

Yes Hello I’m a writer and I forgot about asks but here we go!! I’m sorry this took so long and that it’s really bad but here it is!

This is very poorly edited I’m so sorry lol, this takes place in my dff AU! It’s spunky

And it’s been awhile since I’ve written for this AU so things are a little weird, kind of missed the angst but I got ideas don’t worry

TW: violence, fighting, description of injury but nothing too graphic I think

Dicey Nights

Sword in hand, solid stance, deep breath. He could do this.

Techno tapped his foot anxious against the cement floor, waiting for his opponent to climb over the ropes and enter the arena. The air was thick and hot from the muggy night’s humidity and the crowds incessantly loud cheering. The arena was dimly lit around the stans, all light coming from a giant overhead, casting grimmy light over the blood splatters that stained the rough concrete.

His opponent entered the ring, eyes flashing in the light, lips quirked up in a barely perceptible grin. Techno’s anxiety shot from his stomach to his heart, this man was like a tank, tall with bulky limbs and long flat sword.

Techno pushed his worries away, he had taken on opponents bigger then himself before, just not that big, but they needed the money, he had to win this.

They both walked to the middle of the platform, shook hands, the other man gripping too tightly to be friendly, then they turned and walked back to their starting places.

The buzzer sounded and the man shot forwards, sword swinging in an arch, Techno’s sword clashed with his, metal screeching pierced the air as the man tried to overpower Techno, putting his weight on the sword.

Techno kicked him in the knee, the man sputtered and slipped, allowing Techno to dodge to the side then ram into the man, sending him to the ground. He moved to slash his sword at the man’s neck and fake out the audience then the duel finished, quick and easy if the man stayed down for the three count.

Suddenly the man lashed out and landed a kick square into Techno chest, sending him reeling. Techno scrambled to his feet, stifling a groan. His ribs protesting vehemently, sending shockwaves of fire through his chest, he watched as the other man rolled back onto his feet.

The man, Techno heard the crowd cheering ‘Go Thrasher!’, ran at him again, opting to not overpower him but overwhelm him, he swung wildly, he obviously never had any training.

Techno took the defensive, slash, stab, dodge, block, kick back, and repete, analyzing Thrasher’s fighting style, his patterns and goto movements. Once he memorized the motions he switched to offense, changing his own patterns as well, quick slashes and jabs, forcing Thrasher back, Techno would kick at the man’s legs then go back to swinging.

In a ditch effort Thrasher whipped his sword around only for Techno to kick it out of his hands, sending it flying. Techno slammed into the man once again, taking advantage of his distraction, and knocked him to the ground.

He pointed his sword at the man’s neck, looking down the blade at Thrasher, the crowd around him screaming, “Go Blade go!” He tried to keep his face emotionless, waiting for the announcer to call it off.

Thrasher wasn’t giving up, he kicked at Techno again, who half dodged half stumbled away. Thrasher moved faster then Techno had even seen, Techno lashed out, slicing his arm but it didn’t faze Thrasher. Rage blazing in his eyes he jumped on Techno and knocked him to the ground, half pinning him, a knee on one of Techno’s arms, knocking his sword away.

Thrasher punched him across the face, Techno’s head jerked to the side, pain flaring in his face, nausea rising in his gut as the man reared back and hit him again and again.

Techno weakly grabbed for his sword but came up short, his vision was blurring, hot blood dripped down his face, matting his hair. In a last ditch effort, he threw a punch, aiming for Thrasher's throat, he hit his target dead on and hard.

Thrasher gasped and faltered, his grip loosen and Techno took his chance. He yanked himself away and sent another kick to the man's chest, scrambling towards his sword.

He didn’t know what he was doing, he couldn’t win this, the adrenaline would wear off soon and he’d lose, he wouldn’t be able to fight after this, he’d have to go home empty handed. That thought alone made him feel even more sick.

Thrasher rose to his feet, breathing heavily, Techno got into a weak stance, prepared to go down fighting. You weren’t allowed to kill in the duels but Techno was scared Thrasher would chuck those rules out the window. Thrasher’s fists were clenched, cracked and bloody at his sides, fire in his eyes, he let out a roar. Techno’s grip on his sword tightened and he prepared to swing-

The buzzer sounded.

The fight lasted 10 minutes, the announcer called it a draw. The audience booed and complained as Techno went to shake hands with Thrasher.

Thrasher looked at Techno’s hand in disgust before slapping it away, “You fight dirty, freak.” He growled, Techno scowled but bit his tongue and flipped Thrasher off and stalked off as dignified as he could with the room spinning like a toy top.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the sidelines and chugged it when one of the organizers threw a small pouch at him.

“You’re off your game,” The women commented lazily, not looking up from her clipboard, “I expected better.”

“Then you hop on in there,” Techno grumbled, not making eye contact as he pocketed the pouch, he sheathed his sword.

“I’d rather die,” She said, eyes flickering up from the page, “Just like you almost did.”

Techno snorted, “Please,” He said, shouldering his bag and walking towards the bathrooms, “I neva die.”

He somehow managed to get to the bathroom without collapsing, he pushed open the door and stumbled over to the sinks. He gripped the edge tightly, waiting for the room to stop spinning, he looked up at the mirror and realized he was fucked.

There was a gross cut on his hairline, trickling blood down his face, the right side of his face was covered in blooming bruises, blood from his nose smeared down his chin, he looked like a mess.

He felt like a mess.

Techno grabbed a paper towel and ran it under the faucet then scrubbed it against down his chin and along his hairline, ignoring the sting. He dried his face off then filled up his water bottle, dreading the fact that he couldn’t hide this from his family. He hoped to get home before Wilbur or Tommy woke up, he knew he couldn’t avoid Phil, he got up extra early to be able to commute to work.

Techno started home, not bothering to stay for any other duels, he wouldn’t be able to win, not in the state he was in anyways. He squeezed past the security guards and tried not to fall while walking, the trip home only should have been around forty minutes but between his slow pace and stopping to take breaks so he wouldn’t pass out it took him over 2 hours to get back.

The rusty metal stair squeaked as Techno climbed them, they groaned as he put his weight on the railing, god he wanted to lay down.

He unlocked the door, trying to push it open as quietly as possible, of course the door made that impossible as it creaked loudly.

The door cast a shadow on the soft light coming from the kitchen, Techno could hear dishes clicking quietly.

“Hey Tech,” Phil said, as Techno locked the door again, “You’re back later then usual-” He stopped, staring at Techno’s face, Techno immediately put his hands up, “Now I know what you’re thinking but let me just say; it’s not that bad.”

“Sit,” Phil said, setting his coffee cup down, Techno rolled his eyes, but sat down anyways. “Yeah I saw that coming,”

“Please tell me the other guys looks worse,” Phil prodded at the bruises on Techno’s face, Techno shrugged.

“Please tell me you didn’t get your face fucked up for nothing,”

“I hope? I mean I got a few good hits in, oh that reminds me,” Techno leaned over, rummaging through his bag for money pouch,

He immediately regretted it because it made the room spin again. He grumbled but found the pouch and tossed it on the table.

”It’s not a lot but it’s something,” Techno trailed off, he could have stayed longer, fought harder, been more useful but a few bruises sent him running back home. “I can go back tomorrow, get us more-”

“What? You’re not going back, you look like shit!” Phil said incredulously, checking the cut along his hairline,

“But we need the money,”

“We’ll get by,” Phil’s eyes narrowed, mouth in a tight line.

“That’s a lie-”

“No it’s not,”

“Phil I’m not stupid we need more and I can go back, tonight was just an off, when I go back I can get us more-”

“You’re not going back!” Phil said firmly, “You’ll get hurt again-”

“It’ll be worth it-”

“No! It’s not! Nothing is worth you getting this hurt!” Phil snapped, he took a breath, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry it’s- it’s just not worth it, you need to be okay too, you deserve to be okay.”

Techno sat there, not sure what to say. Phil looked at the clock and swore under his breath, “Shit, I’m gonna be late,” He grabbed his coat, “I’ll see you later, take it easy, alright?” Techno nodded as Phil walked out the door.

He sits there for a minute, not sure what to do, he wants to sleep for 45 hours but he is also hungry. He opted to grab a banana when he hears Wilbur yell from the other room;

“Tommy brush your hair!” The bedroom door opened, “No! It looks fine!” He didn’t notice Techno as he walked into the bathroom, Wilbur followed him out a moment later.

“Hey Wil,”

“Hey Tech, you're up earlier and oh my god are you okay?” He trailed off to the next point, gesturing gingerly at Techno’s face.

“Yes, I’m fine, I promise,” Techno said again, putting his hands up and rolling his eyes. Wilbur nodded, they stood there for a moment before Wilbur asked;

“Did Phil flip out?”

“Oh yeah definitely,”

“Well, at least something’s normal,” Techno snorted.

“Hey Wilbur, we’re low on toothpaste again-” Tommy said, coming out of the bathroom, he looked at Techno and trailed off.

“Uh, Techno, You’ve got a little something,” Tommy gestured to his own face, hand hovering over the whole right side, “on your face, like everywhere.”

Techno snorted and smiled softly, “Thanks for telling me nerd,”

“What happened?”

“Not important,” Techno said, grabbing an orange from their fruit bowl, tossing it at Tommy, who caught it with ease, “What is important is that you’re gonna be late for school, now get going.” He hadn’t told Tommy about the arena fights, he didn’t know how Tommy would react and he didn’t want to encourage it or risk it.

“No I’m not, you’re just avoiding the question!” Tommy protested, jamming his finger into the skin of the orange.

“You sure about that?” Techno nodded to the clock on the wall, 7:06.

“Oh shit, I gotta go,” Tommy said, Wilbur slapped the back of his head, “Language,”

“What come on! You say it all the time!”

“Yeah cause I’m older then you, now grab your shit,”

“Now you're just rubbing it in!” Tommy said, grabbing his backpack off the hook by the door.

“You’re right, now let’s go, I’ll walk to you,” Wilbur stopped in the doorway, Techno could hear the creaks of the stairs as Tommy jumped down. Wilbur looked at Techno, eyes soft.

“Go to sleep Tech, you look like you need it,”

“Well I was going to but now that you said that, I think I’ll stay up,” He teased, Wilbur rolled his eyes.

“If you aren’t asleep by the time I get back I will crush you,”

“I’d like to see you try,” Techno shot back as Wilbur closed the door, locking it.

The banana forgotten and set back on the counter, Techno slipped his shoes and laid down, hoping the others wouldn’t worry too much, he fell asleep almost immediately.

[ccinagalaxyfaraway]

Wolffe being like 😳 when he sees Plo divert/use lightning for the first time but also being like actually star struck by him lol

There is fire all around them. Wolffe shoves Comet’s head down behind cover and skid-slides behind a fallen chunk of concrete himself, clutching his rifle to his chest and sucking in air as fast as he can. They’ve been in a running retreat for three hours now. The battalion encampment is another hour away, along with all the reinforcements that entails. Goddamn Jedi and their goddamn luck, Wolffe grouses, popping up to provide cover fire while Plo relocates to a better position, Sinker’s arm slung across his shoulders. The two of them duck into a door frame, with Boost joining them, rifle retorting, and then there’s finally time to catch a breath.

“Medical’s gonna have your hide,” Sinker slurs, thoroughly concussed from his introduction to a steel wall via grenade. “Walking on that leg.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” says Boost, whose thigh had been grazed - had a chunk shot off, really - by a droidika. Despite the din, their voices come through clear in  Wolffe’s helmet, along with the other tactical feeds he recieves by satellite. Things like unit positions and enemy movements, which would be useful if there were more than one way to get back to base - through the hundreds of battle droids between them and the pass.

“Any ideas, General?” Wolffe asks, checking his charge pack. It’s nearly empty; he doubts anyone else’s is in much better condition, and unless Plo develops a sudden affinity for Force-disassembly, replacements are unlikely. Movement catches his attention, and he fires on a group of droids attempting to flank them. Plo deflects a few shots in their direction.

“Nothing you would approve,” says Plo. “Unless you’ve reconsidered your stance on splitting up?”

“I don’t know,” Wolffe says, “have you reconsidered yours on taking Comet and going on ahead of us?”

“Not particularly,” says Plo. He thumbs the switch on his lightsaber, the blue vanishing in an instant, and starts levitating pebbles instead. At speed they can punch clear through a battle droid’s neck, and once or twice had even caused super battle droids to malfunction. It has the added advantage of not lighting up his position, as lightsabers tend to do. Droids can be tricked into turning away if attacks appear to come from another direction. While he flings his makeshift projectiles, Wolffe and Comet join them in the deserted building, each taking hold of an injured brother and venturing inside. Behind them, there is rumbling as Plo shifts concrete to block the entrance.

“What an unpleasant situation,” says Plo, squatting beside Wolffe where he is seated.

“This sucks, you mean,” says Comet. Sinker mumbles something incoherent from where he’s laid out on the floor.

“Quite,” says Plo. “If we could clear a path -”

“Not with that many,” says Wolffe, watching the shifting mass of red dots on his HUD. “Not even a Jedi could get through that many. Not even General Unduli’s perfect defense.” And Plo was definitely not Luminara Unduli. Wolffe remembers Geonosis all too well, and pulling his future General onto a lartie. The odds now are even worse. “They’re clustered at the entrance to the pass, with secondary groups roaming. Go after one and the other groups will overwhelm us in minutes.”

They might be overwhelmed anyway. If they were more mobile - but Plo refuses to leave his troopers behind, and Wolffe refuses to leave Plo behind, so they’re at an impasse. The droids will flush them out eventually by accident or design, and they’ll be hunted to exhaustion.

“So we need to take out a large chunk of their force at the same time,” says Boost. “Wish we had the Wreckers around.”  Their knack for improvised pyrotechnics would be handy.

Wolffe glances over just in time to see Plo’s considering expression. “General,” he says warily.” What are you thinking?”

Plo taps his claws together. “Parlor tricks,” he says. “On a large scale.” He faces Wolffe fully. “Based on what you have seen so far, could you predict when the various groups will be closest to the main force?”

“Sure,” says Wolffe. It’s a shiny’s exercise in pattern recognition.

“Let me know a minute in advance,” says Plo, standing. Wolffe cranes his neck to look at him, and Plo drops a hand onto Wolffe’s shoulder. “Have faith.”

Wolffe covers Plo’s hand with his own. “Always.”

He watches as Plo begins to pick his way to the upper floors of the building, hopping from perch to perch with his usual understated efficiency until he is at the very top, crouched on the ledge overlooking the last hundred yards between them and losing a droid army in a densely forested mountain. His robes are tucked tightly around him, though in the still, dry air they wouldn’t have fluttered anyway. He too is still, like a garboyle overlooking the city, like a hawk surveilling its prey.

“One minute,” says Wolffe, his eyes fixed above.

“Make sure no one is touching anything conductive,” says Plo. He rocks forward.

Wolffe’s eyes narrow, and he scrambles to his feet. “What are you -”

“Have faith,” Plo repeats, and launches himself off the building.

Wolffe makes it to the window on the third floor in time to see Plo’s final descent on the droids, feet first, an ambush from above. As he crash-lands, lightning bursts from his frame, streams of gold arcin through every scrap of metal around him. Some of the droids explode, starting chains of destruction radiating out from the epicenter. Others, apparently better insulated, jerk and jolt from the interference and fall over smoking from their overloaded circuits.

From his viewpoint, Wolffe can feel his hair stand on end, and then a loud crack splits the air and the destruction is complete. The smoke slowly begins to clear, and from the tangled, smelted remains, Wolffe can just make out the form of a cloaked man, stumbling towards them.

“What was that?” Comet hisses when Wolffe rejoins them on ground level, wide-eyed and scowling. He can’t decide if he’s awe-struck or irritated. Moments later, the doorway opens itself, and on the other side is their General, slightly singed about the robes, still smoking, and leaning heavily on the closest appropriately sized piece of rubble.

“You call that a parlor trick?” Wolffe asks, going to him to look for any obvious injury. Plo tiredly shrugs him off.

“I’ve never used it on that scale,” says Plo. “Sparks, usually. A bolt, when I first discovered it.”

“Di’kut,” Wolffe growls.

“Not one of my brightest moves,” Plo agrees, though for that moment, he had outshone the sun. He seems done with the topic and bends to pull Sinker up again. “We’d best move before any more trouble comes to find us.”

Wolffe follows, an eye on Boost beside him and the other on Comet on point, very carefully not staring at Plo, his very own force of nature, the scent of ozone marking his path ahead.

[debiteful]

Arthur tries to figure out how to win his grudge match with the reigning champion. Sequel to this story.

Content: professional fighting, unconsciousness, detailed vore mention with humanoid slime pred, various anthro prey, public vore, professional fighting, belly bulge, translucent belly; no actual complete vore scenes in this one lol

In the days after that match, Arthur wracked his mind for ways to best the champion. Every punch he threw in training was aimed at that slime. When he messed up he could feel that stretchy mouth closing around him.

To Coach it was clear the fighter's mind was elsewhere. He probed, "What's going on in there?"

Arthur didn't spare him a glance, "One, two, one, three," he emphasized each word with a strike from fists or foot.

"Doubtful: you've been sloppy all week. If you were actually focused you might be making progress instead of back sliding."

The wolf grit his teeth, "Since you seem to know it all, why ask me?"

"I'm no mind reader, Champ."

Arthur yelped as his wrist buckled from poor form. He whirled on Coach with a toothy snarl, "Why don't you quit distracting me and start coaching me?"

He put up his hands, "Alright alright have it your way."

With that he set Arthur to grueling drills. The fighter had done these hundreds of times, so his mind was still free to wander. This time Coach didn't bother commenting on it. He knew he'd snap out of it sooner or later.

When inspiration didn't strike, Arthur started gathering recordings of all the champion's fights. He got very little sleep over the next few weeks. During the day he dove into his training, mind still on the champion. In the evening he binged fights, pausing and rewinding particularly complex parts. He memorized whole combinations to ask Coach how to counter.

From what he could gather, the champion tended to be evasive until he got an opportunity to grapple. Once that point was reached, victory was all but assured. He thought perhaps he could take a less aggressive approach, but others had tried before and failed. The champion was an expert at goading, but he was known to strike first on occasion. All his limbs could stretch, so a punch thrown from across the ring could find its mark. Overall it was a very defensive strategy.

Not every fight ended with the opponent in his belly. Many of them did, and Arthur found himself studying those the hardest. He couldn't help but admire the grip strength as the slime locked onto their prey. Watching their head stretch and throat bulge was uncanny; it had felt uncanny too. Seeing their belly stretch as whatever poor sap filled it, slowly becoming more transparent, brought back the sensations of being inside. Watching those clips made his heart race and breath come quickly. It wasn't like him to panic- though this didn't feel quite like the alarm he had felt during the end of that fight.

Binging the fights gave him a few ideas, but he wasn't confident. Knowledge in hand, he approached Coach. "Hey, I think I know who I want to face next."

His trainer perked up, "Oh?"

"Yeah, this guy- Myron. He's got a similar record to me, and I think I could take him."

"Isn't he a slime, like the champion? Last time that didn't go so well-"

"I'm well aware. I think I can do this."

"Alright, alright fine. I'll get it arranged." 

The fight with Myron went long but well. Arthur could anticipate what he might do, and tested out moves he hoped to use on the champ. Some failed spectacularly, but others met their mark. 

Arthur came from that fight exhilarated. His strategy was starting to come together! Now he just needed to face other slimes. 

Coach started to put the pattern together very quickly. He didn't bother asking about it, but he figured his fighter was angling for a more even grudge match. Whatever the case, he was glad to play his part.

After months, Arthur felt ready. He had honed his strategy to a razor's edge: there was no way the champ would walk away undefeated!

They entered the ring one after another, Arthur first. The roar of the crowd was overwhelming as his opponent came out. The wolf looked at the slime and felt his face flush. He hadn't realized how strongly- how angry?- he felt still. Then again, he had been building up to this for months. He shook his head vigorously to clear it.

They touched gloves and retreated towards their corners. The bell was struck. Heart racing, Arthur circled slowly.

Patience. Patience was key. He could feel every second slowly slipping away. There was the taunt, a complete drop of the guard. Now? He edged closer. 

A glove shot towards Arthur's face, the slime's arm stretching with the force of the punch. The wolf ducked down, open hand hitting the mat as both his legs kicked out, finding their mark on the opponent's knee.

Now he scrambled along the mat while the champ dove to grapple his legs. Getting caught in their hold was game over; the champ knew it. They lunged after their crawling opponent but Arthur found his feet. He spun around and one knee went up before the other leg snapped out and flew to the side, the top of his foot striking their jaw. Body followed head, arms belatedly curling up in a guard.

Arthur knew better than to press on. Others had confidently tried to pin the champ to the mat, but he always turned the tables. The wolf backed off and let his opponent stand.

The slime opened his mouth and worked his jaw a little, wincing from the movement. Arthur grinned: they would be hard pressed to eat him with that injury. 

The smile was just about knocked off his face by a high kick. He ducked in time, barely. A jab turned into a block as a punch flew at him, and he responded in kind. This was the opening volley of a breakneck exchange of blows. The champ was fast and they had their tricks, but Arthur had seen dozens of their fights and every movement seemed predictable.

He blocked a knee, then a right hook only for an uppercut to catch him off guard. In a desperate move he rolled with it, ending up stumbling backwards. A stretchy leg shot out to trip him up.

Arthur hit the mat and in moments his opponent was on top of him.

A flurry of blows rained down on his head. He struggled beneath their weight, arms and torso pinned. The thought of tapping out never occurred to him. One knee drove up, then the other, but his entire upper leg landed fairly flat against their back, dampening the blows. He tried throwing both legs to the side to twist away to no avail.

Arthur's vision grew spotty as his whole face throbbed. When the punches stopped, he couldn't feel it. The darkness crept in from all sides until it took him.

The champion stood and backed off while the ref counted Arthur out. The wolf didn't stir until halfway through the announcement of the winner. He pushed off the mat, bleary eyes little help in guiding him out of the ring. 

All his preparation- even that hadn't been enough. The Champ must be unbeatable. Arthur didn't know what to do right away, but an idea eventually occurred to him.

About a week later he went to a new gym. Coach didn't know he was there; maybe Coach never would. Arthur intended to train with both Coach and the Champ.

[sweetestlamb]

Hands On

Summary: Dalmi appreciates the majestic wonders that are Nam Dosan’s hands. 

Author's note: I’ve never seen a ship war before in kdrama land so I was completely unprepared for some of the things I saw in this tag lol but I mean I guess it’s cool that this show is making everyone feel so much. I think Dodal is absolutely adorable as a couple and every time they hug or do anything domestic I swoon like a maiden in an erotica novel. Enjoy whatever pairing you want but I will be writing Dodal strictly as I don’t see any romance between the other pairing. I am many thoughts but not time sadly, I wrote this during my daily commute so excuse any typos and the brevity. 

Those wide palms wrap around her simultaneously comforting and overwhelming her, there are moments when those hands are mesmerizing; clicking at keys and making miracles become a reality. His brilliant mind is the catalyst but those fingers are the agents and she longs to cling to them, thank them and worship them.

Then, there other moments when they grip her face and dismantle her calm systemically taking her apart like a machine, then putting her back together effortlessly with a disarming nervous smile. His eyes squinting the way they always do when his heart is fluttering.

The first time she kisses his hand the blush that blazes across his high cheekbones is adorable, too pure. She feels dirty for imagining wrapping her lips around them and seeing how they taste.

Until she finally swallows them and he looks absolutely dazed and destroyed by the simple act, she knows in that moment she wants to be the one to do everything with him.

She wants him, Nam Dosan.

But she's never had this with anyone before, never had a shoulder to lay her head on or someone to lift her off the ground when she was so happy she thought her cheeks might crack. As much as she puts up a strong front and pushes into any space that he occupies, in the deep crevice of her mind she's just as terrified as he visibly is.

So she takes small steps, takes Dosan's advice and tests her hypothesis that he wants her as much as she wants him.

It starts with a brush of fingers, his sizeable hand is merely inches from her own and stagnant for once. He'd paused into the middle of a fit of genius, worrying his cuticle between sharp teeth. And her response is instantaneous, she snatches his hand away before peering at the skin to ensure it's not bleeding. His hands are beautiful. Strong and capable of making the impossible plausible, they should be protected at all cost.

"Don't do that, you'll make yourself bleed." She lightly chastises, twisting the digit left and right and sighing when she sees there is no permanent damage.

His eyes are bright and frantic, ping ponging between her face and her firm grasp on his hand. Soon his cheeks turn rosy and she almost laughs, even without the E.T she's able to read him like a book; they've kissed until their lips were sore but this is still enough to get his heart racing.

"I'm sorry." He softly replies, making no move to escape from her hold and looking reprimanded as if he's actually done something to her.

She wraps her empty hand around the hand she confiscated, sandwiching his hands between hers.

"Don't abuse these. I like them. A lot." She squeezes his hands tightly, stroking at the smooth skin before bringing them up to her lips and placing two smacking kisses on his wrist.

His silence is deafening but his face provides all the answers she needs, pupils dilated and his teeth now leaving indents in his bottom lip.

She vaguely wonders if he knows the indecent picture he makes, but he frequently does this unknowingly seduces her with this actions.

"You do realize that the rest of us are also in this room right? " Saha's voice cuts through the haze sounding affronted, sneering at them over her phone.

It's only then that she shifts her eyes from Dosan's pretty blush and gazes around the room, the other two members of Samsan tech are pointedly looking at the ground, Chul-san even going as far as whistling and pointing out patterns in the floor regaling about how wonderful the office is as if they haven't been here for weeks now.

She supposes she should feel embarrassed but she can't muster up any shame.

She opts to tease instead. 

Smirking at the other girl she grabs at her perfectly manicured hand across the table, "Are you jealous? Do you want some attention too hmm?"

The prissy designer squawks loudly as Dalmi puckers up and then Chul-san leaps up pushing his chair in a haste to defend the designer, bodily blocking her from Dalmi's gaze and she can't contain that giggle that bubbles up in her chest.

"I'll protect you!"

A glance over reveals that Chul-san is the one who needs protection with the glacial glare being sent his way, Saha stands in a huff leaving without any explanation. No one reacts except the goofy coder who watches her departure with forlorn eyes.

Throughout the commotion, Dalmi never releases the hand in her possession. Stroking him in light brushes that drag from wrist to knuckle.

She knows she should give him back his hand, he's trying his best to type with one hand and honestly still moving quicker than most but still she prepares to free him.

But suddenly the hand is yanked from her capture and she jolts at the sudden movement, turning to him with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" He hastily apologizes, even going as far pressing his previously snatched hand back into hers, wriggling his long fingers into her much smaller hand.

Once again his ridiculous antics disarm her and she can't help but smile at him, shaking her head before squeezing his hand and returning to her own abandoned keyboard.

"It's okay you can have your hand back, that's what makes all the magic happen." She teases him internally delighted at the more carnal thoughts that come to mind at her own words.

He's wearing his patented squinty blush™️ face now version 2.0 which includes flushed cheeks and lip biting, but he stutters out a reply after a few minutes of avoiding her eyes.

"Sorry, it's just...I was stuck on something. I couldn't make the right connection but after you....." He trails off but his eyes are fixed on her hands now, still on the table as she listens to him.

After she what? She peers back at him waiting the rest of the sentence that doesn't appear to be coming.

"After I?" She eggs him on staring up at him expectantly, even sitting he looms over her.

"Ummm...your hand. And my hand. It helped me put the pieces together."

Fondness rolls over her like a blanket as she watches this brilliant coder stutter his way through a simple explanation.

After she held his hand.

He starts to spin his chair in little half circles now, before turning back completely to his work space. Then his fingers are moving at a rapid pace, tap tap tap echoing in the room as he solves another issue as easily as he blinks.

"Thank you."

She almost misses the whispered words but she's always listening to him. She begins to shake her head, not doing anything that warrants gratitude but the smile he shoots her way leaves no room for argument.

She can do nothing but beam back at him, heart hitching when he reaches out to squeeze her hand before his friends start grumbling, she sticks her tongue out at them before skipping off to get them all coffee already memorizing all of their orders. If she stays the temptation to touch Dosan will be too much.

Her fingers are still tingling, his magic rubbing off on her.

When she makes her way back to the room Saha is back and as prickly as they're all used to. With a sigh they all throw themselves back into work.

It's been a long day, their app has crashed and no amount of tapping away at the computers is enough to fix it, she can see the way it weighs on Dosan's shoulders as if ever failure is all his fault.

After a prolonged minute he stills, his head falling onto his hands in defeat. Those broad shoulders collapsing like pillars constructed from sand. His fellow coders try to cheer him up, telling him that they will stay late with him but they all know that he doesn't need help. He so often is their lone hero.

"I'm going for walk." His voice is barely above a whisper, as he heaves himself from his chair and lifelessly stalks out the door.

Dalmi feels all eyes turn to her as she watches his exit, she wars with herself wondering if it would be better to give him space. But a voice pushes her to follow him, knowing how hard Dosan can be on himself. He's incapable of cruelty unless the one being stabbed is himself.

"I'm going to the bathroom." She lies, meaninglessly as no one believes her and Chul-san even calls out that Dosan probably went to the roof. She rolls her eyes, she already knew that. Roofs held a very special place in their relationship.

She sprints up the stairs, loose hair swinging wildly behind as she pushes the door open.

Immediately she finds her Dosan, trying to make his large body smaller sitting hunched on a metal bench, taking a minute to smooth down her flyaways she marches over to him. Pep talk on the tip of her tongue.

But she's intercepted as a new figure enters her field of vision, long amber brown hair blowing in the wind. The unknown woman stalks over to Dosan, Dalmi bristles as she watches the woman reapply lipstick before closing the gap.

She can't hear the words but she instantly knows that Dosan is being flirted with and has no idea of the occurrence, he had jumped when first approached and then after a puppy-esque head tilt started to explain something, hands in motion.

Fire simmers in her veins the longer the conversation drags on, soon the woman has taken a seat and she is all easy smiles and constant hair tucks. Then she starts to lean into his space and Dalmi brightens when he scoots away, maintaining the distance between them.

Dalmi reaches for her scrunchie, slipping it from her wrist and catching her hair up in a loose ponytail.

Marching over she walks until she's right in front of the coder, for once looking down at him before reaching out and taking his hand. Using all her strength she pulls him, at first he's rigid and immoveable and then he's standing and allowing himself to be yanked into her orbit.

The woman glares at her before raising an eyebrow, "Who are you? We were having a conversation." Annoyance drips off every word that falls from her lips.

Dalmi steps forward, as Dosan steps behind her dwarfed by her despite their laughable difference in height.

"I'm his CEO."

She glares harder at Dalmi. Now standing as well, arms crossed petulantly.

"You're just his CEO. Why are you interrupting?"

Dosan's breath hitches in the background and Dalmi wonders if he finally realized what was happening just now.

"He can't fraternize with the enemy. We're going now."

A part of her wonders if she's overstepping her boundaries but when she turns to face Dosan he's squinting into the distance and she knows that her jealousy is not unwelcomed.

When she has Dosan safely away from the poacher, she peers up at him his hand still curled around her own.

"I'm sorry."

His unwarranted apology snaps her back to reality, she almost groans at herself. She wasn't normally a possessive person but Dosan made her act stupid sometimes.

Instead of acknowledging his apology she replies, "Do you know why she was talking to you?"

He stares at her blankly before it morphs to confusion and then realization.

His eyes widen.

He nods solemnly.

"Yeah I know why."

She watches his face avidly as he opens his lips to speak once more.

"She wanted...my coding secrets. That's why she was asking me about myself and for my number. She was probably trying to become my friend to sabotage us. I promise I didn't tell her anything."

Her brain careens as she processes the new information, teeth clenching at the thought of Dosan giving another woman his number.

Then his words sink in and her stomach unclenches minutely, she believes him. But a little voice in the back of her head offers some doubt and she braces herself.

"What if she wasn't trying to use you? Would you give her your number?"

She barely as to wait a full second for a response.

"No. Why would I do that?"

"Maybe you need someone to talk to."

He looks at her as if she's grown another head, "I have Chul-san and Yong-san."

Her hold loosens.

"And I have you." He grabs the point of her chin, drawing her head up until their eyes lock once more. The warmth from his hand sinks into her skin and she nuzzles into his palm before drawing him into a hug, standing on her tip toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

After a pregnant pause he melts into her embrace, deep breaths landing on her shoulder.

"You'll figure it out. I know you will."

He nods slowly, buckled over as he tightens his hold on her waist.

"Thanks for coming for me."

She mentally makes a note to pray the next time she's in church, thank the Lord for putting him in her life perhaps he was her guardian angel sent to make heathens like her believers.

She's drunk. She can feel the alcohol singing her in blood as she sways on the sidewalk. They'd all agreed to go out for drinks to celebrate, they were in the final two for Sandbox. It was surreal and before she knew it she had stumbled from giggly and tipsy into sloshed and incoherent.

Dosan looms beside her, her shoulder bag strung across his wide chest as he watches her in the corner of his eye. The others had bulldozed into Saha's car despite the designer threatening to dump their bodies on the highway.

So here they were alone.

When the bus finally arrived, strong arms lift her taking all her weight before caroling her into a back seat of the bus. She hums happily, fuzzy memory resurfacing of them holding hands on the bus. Without thought she reaches out and catches his hand, needing to feel his skin.

His hands are slightly damp but she doesn't care, she wants all of him sweat included.

She blinks awake at his whispers of her name and soft shoves, groggy she stands up letting him guide her like she's a young child. Her nap has sobered her up some and she's thankful she decided to forgo heels today, instead donning simple flats with a gold buckle.

"Do you need a piggyback?"

She turns at his offer, considering it but that means she would have to let go of his hands and that's simply not an option. She wants to enjoy every second she has remaining with those hands.

She shakes her head in decline, squeezing his hand as they trek up the incline to her house. The moon shines big and bright in the sky, washing them with its rays.

"You're home." He announces, looking down at her fondly before she starts to swing their arms between them.

He starts to pull her bag over his head, and the words tumble out of her mouth, her tongue loosened by all the alcohol she's consumed.

"What do you like about me?"

He stills at her question, eyes widening before his lips shift open. He looks lost for a minute and her patience wears thin as she awaits his response, when none arrives she huffs stomping her feet and repeating louder, "What do you like about me?"

Still he stares wordlessly and she drags her hand away, snatching her bag and turning to enter her house. She takes three and a half steps before he catches her wrist, she doesn't turn around but she pauses her escape.

A deep winded breaths swooshes past her ear and then he replies, "I...I like a lot."

She glares over her shoulder, and he withers under her stare. Large hands reaching out to caress her jaw as he looks at her with liquid eyes.

"Umm your smile, you have a great smile."

Said smile makes a guest appearance and she hums, "What else?" He smiles at her, the juxtaposition not lost on him.

"Your confidence, you believe in yourself." The and me is silent but still there. That brings a sad smile to her face, his own confidence is a work in progress. Suddenly dehydrated she swipes her tongue across the surface of her upper lip, pulling the bottom in and releasing it with a wet smack.

The act lasts all of three seconds but Dosan freezes, eyes fixated on her mouth although nothing is happening now.

His fingers inch towards her mouth until she can feel the heat and she waits for his next move.

When he makes none, she steps closer tugging him to meet her halfway.

Then finally as if that were his cue, he presses his thumb into her bottom lip, running across the plump moist flesh utterly entranced and red faced.

"I like your lips."

His actions are speaking loud enough but his words scorch her up and before she can consider the fact that they are outside her house, she swivels her head and pops his thumb into her mouth, his salty flavor exploding on her tongue. His hand feels even larger inside of her and she moans at the sensation.

His eyes are blown out and he's so still she doubts he's breathing, he looks helpless as he watches her sink further down the wide digit.

She swirls her tongue around the pad of this thumb and she swears Dosan melts into her. All of his bones seeming to liquefy.

When she slides off his thumb he's still dazed and dumbfounded, lips opening and closing like a fish sputtering on land.

She's nothing if not an opportunist and she crashes into him, tugging him down to meet her as she sucks the soju off his tongue. He groans into the kiss but lets her lead, bending when she grapples with his shoulder.

They kiss like that for a few seconds, twisting and turning to devour each other before she feels him drifting away and before she can whine at the loss of his lips, her feet leave the ground and they are eye level.

His hands are vices on her lower back, pressing her immeasurably close to his solid torso.

She wraps her legs around him like a koala and before he can combust from their provocative position she's already licking into his mouth, gripping his hair tightly as she moves him as she pleases.

One of his hands creep up and cup the back of her head, and then she's being moved backwards until her back slams into something solid. He tries to pull away, concern contorting his features but she dives into his neck nipping at the hot skin there. She suckles roughly, knowing that she'll leave a mark and anticipating the pretty mark on his blemish free skin.

Then as quickly as his fingers typically move on his keyboard he backs away from her.

She's unprepared for her legs to crash back onto the ground and she looks up at him disgruntled, question forming before her door bursts open.

Then the sweet familiar voice of her grandmother cuts through the tension that has settled between them.

"Dalmi is that you?"

Dosan grabs her bag swinging it back  over his shoulder again, standing ramrod straight like he’s rehearsing for a role in the army. 

Tipsy now from his kiss, she turns around meeting her grandmother's eyes. Trying her damnest not to look as ravished as she feels, her lips are tender in a the right ways.

"Oh goodness look at you. You look a mess, you stuck your head out the window again didn't you? Look at how red and sore your lips are!"

She pointedly doesn't react to the exclamation but Dosan shuffles in her peripheral. Guilty and nervous. 

Thankfully grandmother hasn't yet learned his many tells.

"Thank you for bringing her home." She thanks Dosan sending an indulgent smile his way, before guiding Dalmi into the house. She twists around to wave good bye to Dosan and notices her bag still over his shoulder. She opens her mouth to call out and get it back before she notices how red Dosan is, his cheeks look painfully tinged but that's nothing compared to his white knuckled grip on her bag which is strategically placed in front of his groin.

Oh.

She's makes a show of looking him up and down before licking her mouth, ever so slowly and puckering at him. The last thing she sees before her door closes is Dosan wringing his hand, looking devastated.

She can't wait to get her hands on him.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Dangerous Women. By Hope Adams. Berkeley, 2021.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction

Part of a Series? No

Summary: Nearly two hundred condemned women on board a sailing ship bound for Australia. One of them is a murderer. From debut author Hope Adams comes a thrilling novel based on the 1841 voyage of the convict ship Rajah, about confinement, hope, and the terrible things we do to survive.

London, 1841. One hundred eighty Englishwomen file aboard the Rajah, embarking on a three-month voyage to the other side of the world.

They're daughters, sisters, mothers--and convicts.

Transported for petty crimes.

Except one of them has a deadly secret, and will do anything to flee justice.

As the Rajah sails farther from land, the women forge a tenuous kinship. Until, in the middle of the cold and unforgiving sea, a young mother is mortally wounded, and the hunt is on for the assailant before he or she strikes again.

Each woman called in for question has something to fear: Will she be attacked next? Will she be believed? Because far from land, there is nowhere to flee, and how can you prove innocence when you’ve already been found guilty?

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: violence, blood, miscarriage, rape, sexism (including misogynistic language), death of children/infanticide

Overview: I first learned of this book while browsing the website Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. The premise caught my eye; for all the historical fiction and interest I’ve seen around 19th century transportation to Australia, I very rarely come across stories that are focused so much on women, so I snatched up this book as soon as I could. I think going into it thinking it was historical fiction rather than a mystery or thriller helped me enjoy it more; while the cover promises some thrills, this book is mostly about seeing the female convicts as complex people rather than as solely “criminals.” If that sounds like your jam, you’ll probably enjoy this book. But despite this praise, I didn’t give the novel a higher rating because I didn’t quite like how the mystery ended. I won’t spoil anything, but suffice it to say, I didn’t feel like I was left a trail of bread crumbs to figure out what was really happening, and the big reveal felt rushed and inserted for some kind of shock. But otherwise, I liked the rest of the book, and if the mystery had gone differently, I think it would have been a very fine read.

Writing: This book is told from multiple perspectives: there’s a 3rd person omniscient, 3rd person from the perspective of the Matron, 3rd person from the perspective of the stabbing victim, and 1st person from the perspective of one of the convicts. I really liked having multiple perspectives simply because there were so many people on the ship and it was interesting to hear so many different takes on things. I liked that we got a bit of compassion from the Matron’s perspective while also being shown what the “management” (lol) on the ship is like (the Matron tells us what people like the Captain and the Minister are doing, which is absent from other perspectives). I also liked that we were shown multiple perspectives on what was happening amongst the convicts.

This book is also separated by time with each of the perspectives above switching back and forth between “Then” (before the stabbing) and “Now” (after the stabbing). At first, I found everything to be a little overwhelming, but as I kept reading, I grew to like the changes. I think Adams did what she could to make everything flow well and keep her reader oriented in time and space. It might take a little getting used to, but I think it helps enhance the narrative rather than detract from it.

I also appreciated what Adams was doing thematically with the references to stitching and the women working together to sew a coverlet. Though there were times (towards the end) where she got a little heavy-handed, I did like how the descriptions of all the different fabrics and patterns mirrored the differences between the characters on board, and how they all came together to form a life aboard the ship.

Plot: The plot of this novel revolves around a stabbing. At the beginning of the book, a woman named Hattie is stabbed aboard a ship bound for Australia. Since the ship is mid-voyage, there is a limited pool of suspects and nowhere to go (spatially), so the setting is kept rather tight and controlled.

What made this plot interesting for me was the fact that almost anyone aboard the ship cold have committed the crime, but as we learn more about the characters, we get a feeling for who might be violent and who is not. If you’re looking for a fast-paced mystery or thriller with a lot of twists and turns, this book might disappoint you on that front. But personally, I really enjoyed the slower pace. I loved learning more about the women on board and how they related to one another, and I loved hearing their stories about what their lives were like and why they were sentenced to transportation. In that sense, I think this book works well as historical fiction, and there are a few good messages in there about crime, poverty, and patriarchy that I think might have been lost if the book focused more on twists and thrills.

In fact, it was precisely when this book was trying to be a mystery or thriller that I was most disappointed. I didn’t really find the interrogation scenes interesting except in the moments when the Matron commented on how the men on the ship were biased and didn’t trust a woman’s judgment. I also felt a bit let down by the ending when the perpetrator was revealed. Maybe it worked for some people, but it didn’t work for me.

Characters: There are a lot of characters in this book, and while that might be overwhelming for some people, I found that things weren’t too hard to follow since we could mainly focus on a particular group. We’ve got the three POV characters as well as some of the ranking crew members aboard the ship. We also have some regular seamen and some female convicts who are present but not major drivers of the story. After getting my sea legs (har har), I honestly really liked that there were so many different kinds of people because it really illustrated the “patchwork” community aboard the ship.

Kezia, the Matron, was surprisingly likeable in that she was firm but fair. I loved that she was not driven by the desire to be seen as an authority (at least, not over the women), but by the desire to extend compassion to those who needed it the most. I also liked that her POV illuminated a bunch of different themes, from commentary on the patriarchy to an examination of the flaws in the justice system.

Hattie, the stabbing victim, was admirable in that she was fiercely protective of her son but also wanted to be kind and gentle when it wasn’t a risk to do so. I liked the juxtaposition between her kindness aboard the ship and her rather unkind past, and it made for a very complex picture that was a delight to pick apart.

Clara, another convict, was also easy to like because her story is one that pulls at the heartstrings. While some may be put off by her crimes, her actions go to illustrate the desperation that a lot of women - especially poor women - felt when burdened with an unwanted child. While sometimes I felt horrified by what she did, it was hard not to feel some sympathy.

The other female characters were varied enough that I felt like each of their stories were different yet still fit nicely with the overall themes of the book. Some women were abrasive, which is fine, and others were quieter. It all really just enhanced the feeling that this was a ragtag bunch of people trying to make the best of their situation.

Other supporting characters were well-used and varied enough to keep my interest as well. I liked that the Captain and the Minister, for example, were kind but at times lapsed in their judgement due to being so embedded in the patriarchy. The Captain, in particular, was interesting in that he took time to reflect on his actions and learn, and the Minister was antagonistic without being over-the-top evil. I also liked the Surgeon, who was about as close to a male feminist that you could get on a ship, and the seamen who treated the convicts with respect. Granted, there are some unsavory characters, such as the seamen who make lewd comments and sometimes grab at women without their consent. I could have done without them, but they’re a fairly small part of the book, so I wasn’t too put off by them.

TL;DR: Dangerous Women perhaps works better as historical fiction than mystery or thriller. It has a compelling cast of characters, some strong thematic elements, and a compassionate message. While the mystery and resolution ultimately didn’t work for me, I did enjoy learning about the various lives of the convicts and the focus on understanding and community.

[helpyeungrowup]

new beginnings are scary

school is back in session. finally.

the first few days felt like heaven, i felt like a whole new bitch. socializing like i've never socialized before. it was like the turning point of a high school movie where the main character starts getting out of their shell. it was exhilarating.

...up until the first day of school. thursday, sep 23

11:00 am

my first college class ever. chemistry. a subject that i love and im quite fascinated by. the class was boring, (i fell asleep) it was boring because the professor used up all 80 minutes to talk about himself.

the last 5 minutes finally came around...but my hands started to shake, my heart started beating fast, and my breathing pattern became short and fast. i was trying to calm down and pretend that nothing was happening since i was surrounded by people to my left, to my right, in front, and behind me. (it was like a rave but without the cute guys and hot girls...or ig u could say packed like sardines but thats too mainstream). thankfully i had a keychain that i could hold onto to distract myself, but the moment prof. blake dismissed us i shot up and nearly ran out of the lecture hall. (i for sure looked like a girl having an anxiety moment but...lol) thankfully the campus here at uci is beautiful, so seeing the trees and feeling the nice breeze helped me tremendously.

7:00 pm

i was at a bonfire at corona del mar (which is beautiful by the way the moon was red and it was v romantic, however i failed to land a kisson a cute gentleman) overwhelmed by the amount of people who showed up.

i felt disgusting, i felt like hiding, i felt like crying.

the next few hours felt like 2% of what i think hell would feel like. (lmao) thankfully there was a friend who helped me feel better and stayed with me the whole night. mf took care of me like i was his 20 year old cat that was blind, deaf, and all of the above. (thank u ethan)

now fast forward to last night at midnight

i've been holding in my tears the whole week because of the very toxic and stupid #1 boy's rule "you cry you weak".

but man...that night i cried. i cried like a bitch. i cried like a frustrated 3 year old that couldn't open a yogurt lid. it was embarrassing, humiliating, absolutely sickening.

afterwards, i felt weak. i didnt want to go back to my room. i just wanted to sleep in the study room i was at, but i picked myself up and did the whole night routine (like a bad bitch).

now as i type this short log, i feel proud and i know that i have a whole grand canyon to go over. but...ITS OKAY!! i got this. you got this. we got this.

good luck.

i love you.

[missjanjie]

Can we get a continuation of that sex demon sportsmethydoll thing? 👀(41 + 47)

this got...long lol. this w/ the other ten sentences, ive got enough for a oneshot (this takes place right where that ends)

41. “So you’re just gonna leave after I gave you the best head of your life?” / 47. “What are you gonna do, spank me?”

-

Jan and Crystal stared at the demon woman in front of them, trying to piece together what in the literal hell was happening. “Who… or what are you?” Crystal asked.

“I could offer a long, wordy explanation, but to keep it to the point, I am a sex demon. You may call me Nicky.”

Jan leaned over to whisper in Crystal’s ear. “Why does the sex demon have a French accent?” and got a shrug in response, so she turned her attention to Nicky instead. “How did you get here, Nicky?”

“You summoned me, unintentionally, I imagine,” Nicky replied as she looked them over, leaning against the sink. “I’ve always had a weakness for those uniforms, the temptation that comes with those short, little skirts,” she hummed.

Jan leaned over to Crystal again. “Are we going to have sex with the demon?” And she got an eager nod in response this time.

Nicky watched them whisper, amused. “It’s rude to whisper in front of someone like that,” she remarked lightly.

And Jan decided she would see exactly what this demon was about. “What are you gonna do, spank me?”

With a snap of NIcky’s fingers, the door locked, preventing any potential interruptions. “It’s always the cute, doe-eyed ones, isn’t it?” she remarked to Crystal, who nodded in agreement. “The ones with the innocent smiles always want to be the dirtiest sluts,” she continued as she walked towards them. “Hands against the wall, spread your legs apart,” she ordered Jan.

Crystal took a step back as Jan followed Nicky’s command. She leaned against the wall - this was something she had to see.

Nicky ran her fingers down Jan’s spine, then gingerly lifted her skirt with one hand, and landed a firm slap on her ass with the other. “You talk a big game, let’s see if you can play it,” she remarked as she spanked her a few more times, watching Jan’s ass turn a bright shade of red.

“Mm, she’s calling your bluff, baby,” Crystal cooed, her hand sliding into her panties, needing to touch herself for some relief. “You better take it like a good girl.”

Once Nicky was satisfied with her handiwork, she took a step back to admire it and planned her next step. “Bend over the sink,” she said and watched Jan scurry to the other end of the restroom and bend over one of the sinks. “And you,” her head turned to Crystal, “come,” she curled her finger, beckoning her to follow as they went to join Jan.

Jan watched the two approach through the reflection in the mirror, her heart beating faster in anticipation. The air felt cool on her red, exposed skin, and it sent another pleased chill up her spine.

“I can see how wet she is from here,” Nicky smirked, walking up behind Jan and sliding her hand between her thighs, getting just enough of a feel to prove her point. “I’m going to take care of you, sweetheart. Why don’t you play with your little girlfriend while I do?”

Crystal was already kissing Jan before Nicky got down on her knees, unbuttoning Jan’s shirt and groping her over her bra.

Nicky kept Jan’s thighs pushed apart as she dragged her tongue along her slit. She moved one hand off of her thigh to start rubbing her clit, teasingly rolling it between her fingers as she thrust her tongue in. As a demon, she possessed an almost snake-like tongue in length and dexterity as well as forked at the tip, but remained otherwise human in appearance and feel.

Jan didn’t even realize that was what made it so good, all she knew was she was moaning out and her eyes rolled back. She made sure not to neglect Crystal either, wiggling her hand into her panties and easing one finger into her pussy, adding another as well and thrusting eagerly, albeit a bit haphazardly.

Crystal moaned against Jan’s lips, resting her hand on the back of her head to hold her in place. Her hips bucked against her girlfriends fingers, urging her on, not at all deterred by the lack of rhythm or grace.

Nicky wasn’t actually paying much attention to what the girls were doing, she was much more interested in using her supernatural abilities to send the schoolgirl over the edge. She could tell from the sheer desperation in Jan’s movements that the girl didn’t have much experience, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been summoned in the middle of someone losing her virginity.

Jan and Crystal had been intimate before, but only a couple of times. And this had been the first time they had done it in such a public place. Either way, Jan became very overwhelmed very fast, and as much as she tried to keep fucking Crystal, it was hard for her to form a coherent thought, let alone actively control what she was doing.

“I know you need to come, baby,” Crystal cooed, kissing along her jaw. “Go ahead.” Maybe she wanted to regain some semblance of control instead of Nicky having all of it. And she felt a smug sense of satisfaction when she knew Jan had taken her permission as enough.

Nicky didn’t seem bothered by this. She fucked Jan through her orgasm and stood back up once the girl was done. “Her type always tastes the sweetest, too,” she remarked offhandedly, then looked at Crystal. “You need a hand?”

“Maybe next time,” Crystal winked as she cleaned herself up and helped Jan steady herself.

“Fuck, how long have we been here? We’re gonna get in so much trouble,” Jan gasped softly as she tried to get herself looking somewhere in the realm of normal.

“So you’re just gonna leave after I gave you the best head of your life?” Nicky teased lightly.

Jan frowned. “Well, how do we summon you again? I don’t actually know what I said that brought you here in the first place…”

Nicky tilted her head, then looked at Jan’s still partially undone blouse. She tugged her bra a bit and traced an intricate pattern along the inside, leaving words in her wake. “There, should you ever be in need again,” she winked.

“Oh, we will,” Jan assured instantly, which made Crystal giggle softly.

“Then I’ll be seeing you.” And with a snap of her fingers, she was gone.

[lnfours]

flicker (revamped): slow hands⎜t.h

summary: they’re roommates, but one night (with lots of vodka in the picture), they write up a list of rules. rule one being no strings attached. they made sure to write it large, underline it twice, and highlight it with her favorite blue highlighter. some say that rules are bound to be broken, for better or for worse. but, that’s something they have to decide.

warnings: fwb!roommate!college!au, implied sex, language, some fluff towards the end. this is also unedited and pretty shitty, so read at your own risk. count how many times i say the word ‘ping’.

wc: 1.5k

masterlist⎜prev.⎜next⎜’slow hands’ - niall horan

the soft bed sheets felt nice against your skin, the smell of tom’s cologne floating around you as you woke up. the sun was shining in through the curtains, making you squint and look to the other side. as you rolled over, you saw tom still asleep, face squished against the pillow, lips slightly parted.

you got up from the bed quietly, not wanting to wake him up. you quickly gathered your clothes off his floor before making your way back to your bedroom, throwing the dirty clothes into the hamper and changing into a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt. you walked over to the mirror placed overtop your dresser and raised your eyebrows, seeing the dark purple bruisers tom had left you the night before. your fingers trailed over them before you let out a soft sigh, grabbing your hair brush and a hair tie from the top of the wooden dresser, tying your hair up into a bun. you grabbed your laptop and quietly made your way back into the kitchen, sitting down with your computer.

meanwhile, tom was stirring awake, the sunshine pouring in through the curtains almost blinding him. he rolled to the side where you would usually be awake, tracing patterns into his skin, but when he didn’t see you or feel you next to him, he sat up, looking around the room to see if you were anywhere else.

he made his way out of his bed, throwing on the pair of boxers that were on the floor before reaching into one of his drawers and grabbing a pair of sweatpants, putting them on. he walked out his bedroom door and peered into your bedroom, not spotting you on your bed or at your desk.

he continued walking until he reached the living room, seeing you from across the room as you sat at the table, one knee propped up on the chair as your head leaned against it, eyes focused on your screen. he smiled lovingly at you, watching you from afar before making his way towards you.

you were so focused on your screen that you didn’t feel him walk into the room, didn’t see him until he was wrapping his arms around your neck, head resting on yours. you smiled, leaning back.

“hey,” you said, eyes scanning over your facebook feed,”hungry?”

you felt him shake his head,”no, whatcha doing?”

“the usual.” you shrugged, a ping coming from your laptop as a new notification popped up. you clicked on it, eyebrows furrowing as it was an invite to an event. you clicked on it and your eyes skimmed over it.

“family reunion?” he asked, reading the screen in front of you. you shrugged.

“don’t really feel like seeing them if i’m being honest.” you said, clicking off to a different tab, looking through your emails.

“how come?”

“they always ask the same questions,” you said,”’how’s writing?’ ‘how’s your love life?’ ‘oh you don’t have a boyfriend?’, shit like that.”

“well, that shouldn’t stop you from seeing them,” he said,”how about we go together, i’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.”

you laughed,”stop joking.”

“‘m not,” he said, causing you to look back at him,”you’d do the same for me, plus it sounds like fun.”

you looked at him, almost shocked,”you’re serious?”

he nodded, arms crossing,”yeah.. should i not be?”

you shook your head,”no, no, no,” you smiled, a laugh escaping your lips,”just- just shocked, y’know. thought it would kinda throw our rules out of the window.”

he shrugged,”it’s fake anyways, right?”

you nodded, feeling yourself break inside as the words left his mouth. he didn’t want it to be fake, didn’t want anything but real when he was with you, but he knew you’d never feel the same, knew you’d be better off with someone else.

“yeah,” you nodded,”yeah, i guess so.”

“so, when is this thing?” he asked, walking over to the pantry and grabbing the box of pancake mix. you turned to the screen, clicking back onto the tab.

“uhm, next weekend.” you said, looking back over at tom who was searching in the fridge.

“alright, it’s a fake date,” he said, causing you let out a laugh,”also where the fuck are the eggs.”

“remember you used the ones left to make that nasty ass protein shake.” you said, a smile forming on your lips.

“that was pretty gross, huh?” he said and you let out laugh.

“tommy, it was the definition of disgusting.”

he let out a laugh,”in my defense, harrison was the one who told me how to make it.”

“well, that’s your first mistake,” you laughed,”never trust a recipe from harrison.”

“guess you’re right,” he said, laughing with you,”wanna run to the store with me?”

you looked back at your laptop,”no, i’ve got things i gotta finish up.”

he nodded,”need anything while i’m out?”

you looked up at him as he tugged on a hoodie that was on the back of the chair at the end of the table, fixing his curls before tugging on his sneakers.

“mm,” you hummed,”coffee.”

he rolled his eyes,”of course you want coffee.”

you smiled big at him, sending him puppy dog eyes,”please.”

he felt his heart pound against his ribs, watching you stick out your bottom lip in a fake pout. he groaned, not being able to say no.

“okay, fine,” he said and you smiled,”but we’re watching the movie of my choice tonight.”

you scrunched up your nose,”you pick bad movies.”

“well, that’s the deal,” he smirked at you,”take it or leave it.”

you let out a huff,”you suck.”

“y’know you’re the one who chose me to be your roommate.”

“worst decision ever.” you joked and he faked being hurt, causing you to let out a laugh.

“go get my coffee, loser.”

he rolled his eyes playfully before opening the door to the apartment,”so bossy.”

you stuck your tongue out,”you love it.”

he sighed, looking back at you as he walked out the door.

“unfortunately.”

you smiled as he closed the door, hearing him jingle his keys as he walked down the hallway. you sighed, looking back at your computer as another ping sounded from it.

you opened your email tab, seeing the new email pop up in your inbox. you read it over again, your heart stopping as you clicked onto it.

your eyes read the words on your screen:

ms. y/l/n, as much as we love your work, unfortunately we are unable to publish it right now due to the overwhelming amount of clients we accepted into the oncoming year. we’re very sorry. best of luck, The Curtis Publishing Company

your eyes scanned over the words over and over again. you sat at the table, rereading the words one last time before you looked up at the ceiling, tears starting to form in your eyes. after a couple minutes, you made your way to your bedroom, laying down on your bed as your head hit the pillows. you didn’t even realize you let the tears fall down your cheeks until you felt the pillow under you become wet, making you wipe your face with the back of your hand. your eyes eventually grew heavy as you drifted off to sleep.

tom walked into the apartment a little while later, kicking his nikes off at the door and putting the keys onto the dining room table. he grew confused as you weren’t at your usual spot at the table, quickly putting the eggs back before putting your coffee on the table next to your computer. as he did, another ping sounded from it, the screen turning back on. he watched as the email you had read sat in front of him.

he wasn’t one for snooping in your stuff, but you did leave it open, and he was a curious person by nature.

he read over the same email you had read, sighing after. he closed the laptop, pushing it back to the middle of the table before making his way down the hall, slowly making his way to your cracked open door.

he peeked in, pushing the door open wide enough to fit his face. he spotted you lying on the bed, face squished against a pillow. he felt his heart break for you as he noticed the small wet spot where your tears had landed, causing him to move into the room. he carefully got into the bed, covering you with the throw blanket that you placed at the end of the bed.

you nuzzled into him in your sleep, head moving to his chest. he wrapped an arm around you, securing you in that spot. he kissed the top of your head.

“it’s okay,” he mumbled,”they don’t deserve you anyway.”

you hummed back in response, causing him to let out a chuckle as you fell back asleep in his arms. when he was sure you were asleep, he leaned down and kissed your head. the words he whispered were as soft as a feather, but you somehow managed to hear him.

“i love you.”

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