#finally got around to finishing up reading book 7 and moved on to 8

[dailydegurechaff]

Today's Daily Degurechaff is… distraught

[frost-queen]

Outmatched //Part 10 (Reader!Holmes x Anthony Bridgerton)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, 

@queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr,    @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @m-rae23,@kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress,

@kneelforloki, @mamaj-right, @queensgirl718, @abaker74, @thescooby-gang, @readers-posts, @randomstory56, @aureolinb, @fictional-hooman, 

@nyenye,  @loliakeoghan23, @heyheyheyggg, @aizawash0e, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @novas-dreamworld, @preciousbabypeter, @magical-spit, @heyheyheyggg, studioreader, @wonderlandfandomkingdom, @misscaller06, @dracoflaco, @nikithepuff, @child-of-of-the-sunshine

Summary: Schemes come to plan in order to force Anthony and you together. Can a heart to heart change matters? Certainly now your aunt has come into the picture, wanting to have her demands over you. [ Final chapter ] Read part 1  & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9

Sherlock was writing vigorously. The feather in his hand moving swiftly as he scribbled it around. Dipping as quick as he could in the ink seemingly not wanting to forget a word. It had been annoying you for the past couple of days. It made you sigh loud to get his attention. Nothing occurred as Sherlock was lost in his own mind. Having no ears for his surroundings. You sighed again sitting sloppy in the armchair.

Irritated by the scratching of the feather over paper, you got up. – “Whoever are you corresponding with so eagerly?” – You called out making your way over to him. You came to the front of the desk, lowering yourself on your knees, chin up on the level of the desk. Finally Sherlock noticed you with a brief glance. – “A lady perhaps?” – you responded shockingly.

“Someone you met at the ball? Are you in love Sherlock?” – you questioned with a gleam in your eyes. – “Don’t be absurd.” – Sherlock answered dipping the feather in the ink. – “A sister can dream.” – you told him slightly bummed. Sherlock looked up from his paper. – “So can a brother.” – he simply said. It made you roll your eyes at him.

“Should you not be preparing yourself?” – Sherlock spoke barely looking up as he finished the letter with his name. – “Prepare for what?” – you responded confused. Sherlock placed the feather down, giving you his full attention. – “The park.” – he informed you.

You got up half confused. Slightly narrowing your eyes at him. – “Where are you going with this?” – you wanted to know. Sherlock started folding letter. – “Nowhere.” – he let on, burning some candlewax to seal the note. You watched him closely. Trying to decipher a hint on his face.

Something that would give himself away. Nothing. Your brother was good in hiding his emotions. Frustrated you groaned and took a turn towards the hallway. You went up the stairs to your bedroom to prepare. Moments later you were meeting up with your brother Sherlock outside of the house. 

You took his arm letting him escort you to the park. The weather was quite nice. A soft breeze bristling through the trees. The sun high as it left a warmth on your skin. – “Have you heard anything from Lord Hill?” – you asked when Sherlock nodded at a passing gentleman. – “No.” – he responded placing his hand on yours over his arm. He came to a brief pause. – “Why? Is it something you anticipate?” – he questioned with a raised eyebrow. – “No.” – you answered tugging at his arm to walk again. – “I was simply curious.” – you mumbled turning your head away from him.

To be fair you were a bit curious off his reaction. You did leave him standing alone at the ball. Rejecting him for the entire ton to see. You hoped he didn’t resent you for it. Or perhaps you hoped he might forgive you. Perhaps he was your only chance of getting out of your aunt’s clutches. The thought alone frightened you. Knowing that your aunt would start meddling herself into your life. Marrying you off to anyone suitable enough in her eyes. Take you away from your family for proper etiquettes. Wanting you to be as stiff and stuffy as all the other ladies throwing themselves at any man possible simply because they can’t get any better.

That was not what you wanted. Far from. You wanted to marry for love if it allow itself to you. At this point you didn’t think you were worthy of love anymore. Sherlock must have noticed the self-pity in your eyes as he gave you a nudge with his elbow. Making you look up to his warming smile. It made you smile faintly back, letting your head rest against his shoulder. Sherlock took a deep breath wishing love upon you so hard. If anyone deserved it, it was you.

You lifted your head back up upon arriving at the park. – “Now what are we here for?” – you questioned. Sherlock just smiled. – “A nice walk.” – he responded not pleasing you with his answer. Now it truly felt like he was hiding something from you. – “Sherlock Holmes now I know you are hiding things from me!” – you outed with a stern expression. Sherlock chuckled at your attempt of a motherly scowl. – “I wouldn’t dream of it sister.”

You puffed loud turning your head away. Sherlock led you down the pathway, greeting some people sitting on the benches with a nod. Up ahead you saw a carriage stand in the middle of the road. Sherlock breathed in as his chest rose. He picked up his pace, dragging you along. You tagged along confused as he walked to the side of the carriage. – “Are…are we getting in?” – you asked confused. Sherlock opened the carriage door pushing you inside. At the same time the door on the other side opened as well.

“You are!” – Sherlock spoke as you felt another body bump against yours. Turning your head your eyes widened at the sight of Lord Bridgerton. His eyes equally shocked. You and Anthony each grabbed for the door on your side. Sherlock shut the door firmly almost in your face. – “Sherlock!” – you called out frustrated. – “Mother!” – Anthony shouted at the same time. You turned your head seeing Miss Bridgerton at his side, keeping the door shut just like your brother did.

“Start the carriage!” – Violet called out with a smile. – “Stop the carriage!” – you screamed out wanting to get off. – “Whatever you do, do not stop this carriage till you reach your destination!” – Sherlock made clear to the driver, flipping him a few coins. The driver tipped his hat to Sherlock, signalling the horses to ride off. Anthony and you fell back against the seats as you rode off. With a lot of effort you pulled yourself forwards as the carriage was speeding. Not just a stroll around the park, but almost galloping.

You grabbed for the handle pushing it open as the door swung open. Your body nearly falling over when you stared down at the quick passing gravely road. A pair of hands on your waist. – “Are you insane!?” – Anthony shouted pulling you back inside the carriage. You automatically closed the door once more as your hand was still on the handle. Panting loud you needed a second. – “Did you truly plan on jumping out of a riding carriage just to get away from me?” – Anthony questioned rudely. – “The offer was tempting.” – you responded making him puff loud.

Anthony and you both turned away from each other looking outside of the carriage. It toggled and bumped around as you could barely sit still. – “I cannot believe Sherlock would trick me this much.” – you mumbled under your breath. – “Or mama.” – Anthony breathed out. His head turned slightly to you as you intended the same. Catching each other’s gaze. It locked in tight, unable to look away. In this moment your breathing became heavier. The yearning for him rising up in tide-waves. Each wave more intense than the one before.

Blinking softly it occurred to you what you were doing. How madly in love your eyes must have looked. Anthony reacted the same way pulling away at the same time as you. Both looking away. Taking a deep breath you let yourself slouch back against the seat. – “What is it?” – Anthony asked with care in his voice. No hint of mockery in his tone. You fidgeted with your fingers on your lap. – “The season will come closer to an end than we expect.” – you told him. – “It won’t be long anymore till I have to say goodbye to it all.”

Anthony was slightly confused with shock. He got up coming to sit in front of you. – “What are you referring to?” – he asked. – “Are… are you…” – he spoke barely able to say it out loud. Something inside of him hoping it wouldn’t be the case. – “No.” – you answered with a shake of your head. Anthony exhaled relieved barely seeable to you. – “I am not engaged my lord or will ever be…” – you went on with a saddened expression. Anthony’s expression full of pity as you reminded him of himself in this moment.

You let your eyes fall onto him. – “Perhaps I have taken all the chances at love that I deserve?” – you told him letting your gaze fall briefly onto his lips. Taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from them. – “It doesn’t matter truly for I won’t be able to escape my aunt’s restrictions.” – you continued as Anthony gaped at you. – “Soon you won’t have any trouble of me anymore, my lord.” – you finished.

“By the end of the season I’ll leave to join my aunt where she will groom me to find a match to her liking. It is what has been agreed between my father and her long ago.” – you explained. Anthony took a deep breath with concern. The carriage came to a stop. The glance in his eyes making you scrunch your eyebrows.

The footman opened the door startling you. The moment interrupted as you got out. There you saw your brother waiting for you. You glared at him, storming over to him. Anthony got out numbly. Almost missing his step and stumbling over his own feet. – “Anthony?” – Violet said seeing the sadness in his eyes. – “Sister?” – Sherlock spoke. – “Don’t!” – you made clear wiping your cheek aggressively. He turned to look confused at Violet. It sure must’ve worked right? They had planned it so thoroughly. Violet smiled faintly back at him, moving Anthony closer to her.

With her arm over his shoulder, Violet and Anthony parted ways from Sherlock and you. Sherlock turned round jogging up to you as you had walked off.  He didn’t dare to ask how it went upon seeing your distressed reaction. Perhaps it was harder than he expected. To be fair he was very known with the stubbornness of the Holmes’s. The two of you arrived at the estate again. The doorman opening the door to you. – “Do not trick me again!” – was the only thing you said with a loud tone. Sherlock swallowed feeling a bit shameful.

You wanted to storm off to your room when Mycroft appeared from out of the Parlor, clearing his throat nervously. Sherlock stretched his hand out, tapping you gently against the elbow to draw your attention. Mycroft delicately closed the door behind him. – “We… we have a situation.” – he said before you heard the familiar voice of your aunt. Your eyes widened looking frightened at Sherlock. – “Have they arrived?” – you heard her shrill voice come from the Parlor.

The door opened as it bumped against Mycroft’s back making him stumble forwards. Your aunt smiled as wrinkles showed around her eyes and mouth. With open arms she made her way over to you. Sherlock stepping aside to leave room for your aunt to give you an uncomfortable hug. – “Look at you!” – she said unsure to you if it was an insult or not. She tilted your chin up, turning it to the side to have a good look of you. – “I should’ve come sooner.” – she mumbled.

“But!” – she clasped her hands together in delight. – “Tell me Y/n have you found a match yet? Has there been a proposal? Should I expect wedding bells?” – she asked vigorously. – “There has not been.” – you told her honestly. – “Why Y/n the end of the season is nearing. Have you been absent from any balls?” – She turned rudely to your brothers. – “Have there been no gentleman’s offerings? Visits? Interests?” – she wanted to know.

“There…” – Mycroft started. – “There is a gentleman interested… is it not Sherlock?” – Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Sherlock hoping his little scheme of today would be fruitful. Sherlock cleared his throat. – “In the process.” – he answered nervously. He could see Mycroft sigh disappointed and nervous. – “In the process? Sherlock we cannot wait for the process! Y/n must be married off this season to give this family some stability.” – she responded with diplomacy. – “We understand aunt but…” – Mycroft began as he got cut off by her. – “I don’t think you understand well enough!” – she responded bitsy.

“Y/n is running out of time! You shouldn’t have let it come this far. I will not have my niece turn into a hag.” – she finished off. – “Aunt!” – Sherlock called out with a hateful look in his eyes. – “Do not disrespect her!” – he made clear. She simply huffed. She spun back around to you holding her fingers sternly up to you. – “By the end of the season you will come with me and marry the man I offer you!” – she made clear. – “No!” – Mycroft said coming to stand in between. – “Stand aside boy!” – she answered with a hard stare. – “You had your task and failed miserably.” –

Sherlock came joining his brother’s side, blocking you out of her sight. – “You cannot force her to marry out of diplomacy.” – Sherlock outed. – “Oh but I can.” – she answered. You took a deep breath stepping from behind your brothers. They both shook their head knowing you were about to give in. You moved in front of them, curtsying at your aunt. Your aunt smiled proudly. She took you by the wrist. – “Let us have some tea.” – you got pulled back into the Parlor. The second the door shut grabbed your brother Mycroft for Sherlock’s shirt. – “You told me it would work!” – he called out, shaking him around.

“It should’ve!” – Sherlock answered loudly, pushing his hands off. – “I cannot hold her off any longer Sherlock! Our sister is going to be taken away from us in a matter I do not agree upon.” – Mycroft said. Oh how much his character had grown over the months. From a posh man wanting to have you out of his hands to a caring man fighting for his family. – “I will fix it!” – Sherlock replied. – “How? At this rate I don’t see anything happening in the upcoming five years.” – he sighed out letting himself fall exhaustedly against the wall. – “I will figure it out.” – Sherlock said.

The ball was not to your liking. It felt like a goodbye to everything. It felt like the last thing keeping you close to your roots here in London. No intrigued you to join. Standing at the side you watched how everyone socialised. Taking a deep breath you felt out of place. Having no desire or interest in mingling among the people. Perhaps you had already given up. Given up on the last few chances of finding a match. Of finding someone equally to you. Someone you could see yourself love.

Glancing to your right you saw your brothers near.  They too had a saddened expression. The ball to no interest to them. It pained you to see them knowing of the trouble they went through. Knowing you had a hand to play in this. Perhaps you have been too stubborn. Too much against it and not willingly. Perhaps… perhaps…Looking back at the dancers you saw Colin Bridgerton amongst them. Colin… Bridgerton.

Your mind went instantly to Anthony. Feeling your chest warm up at the simple thought of him. Not so long ago you saw a future with him. Despite the bickering and competitive you still admired him underneath. Secretly loved how he would provoke you. Send you off into frustration and to your boiling point. Oh how much you loved to get so worked up over him.

Yet it wasn’t meant to be. Your stubbornness had won in flying colours. In need of fresh air you got in motion. Your brother Sherlock wanted to go after you, but Mycroft held him back. Shaking his head in speech of letting you have your space. You made your way through the crowd towards the gardens. Brushing past people to reach the other side. Walking out, you were greeted by a soft breeze. The night sky bright. You made your way over to some bush roses.

Looking up to the sky, you were in deep thought. Anthony had found a way outside. Having almost entirely searched the estate in search. Looking thoroughly and with a destined purpose. Every inch around he wanted to have seen. He neared to the rose bushes that were overgrown like a small forest around the estate.

He turned around, leaning back with furrowed brows. There between the rose bushes he saw his purpose. With determination and without a second thought he made his way over. Finally he had a clear view. A clear view of you. You glanced to the side, having spotted a sudden appearance in the corner of your vision.

Anthony neared looking breathlessly at you. – “Do you still plan on to leave with your aunt?” – he questioned with a mournful expression. – “It is what is intended… for me.” – you responded. – “I am apparently made to save my family from ruin.” – you told him. – “You love your family dearly.” – he spoke coming more over to you. You were looking down fumbling a bit with your dress. – “As much as you love yours.” – you told him without a glance. With a deep breath you finally dared yourself to look up.

Struck instantly by his overwhelming gaze. The brightness in his eyes that could light a fire. – “I was fearful of losing you.” – he confessed with a hard swallow. Admitting his feelings so openly to you felt vulnerable. – “That is why I became… after your accident… I couldn’t…” – he slightly shook his head vowing his words to you. You took a deep breath when Anthony neared more. – “I love you.” – he outed.

“I have loved you from the moment you insulted me.” – taking one more step closer to you. – “I have loved you at every dance, on every walk. Every time we have been together and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it or even embrace it but you must know it, in your heart.” – Anthony expressed deeply. He took your hand making you look down at the gesture.

“You must feel it, because I do.” – he pressed his hand onto his chest, staring deeply at you. – “I love you.” – he repeated with all his heart. You scrunched your eyebrow softly at him. – “I don’t not know what to say.” – you told him. – “You don’t have to say anything.” – he answered letting his thumb brush against your hand he was still holding. – “I do not think there is anything else to say… other than I love you too.” – you answered heartily. Anthony exhaled stunned. – “You…” – he breathed out. You lowered your head smiling foolishly at yourself. He looked down taking your other hand in his too.

“I know I am imperfect but I will humble myself before you, because I cannot imagine my life without you and that is why I wish to marry you.” – he spoke with a smile. You returned his smile with one of your own. – “You do know there will not be a day that you shall not vex me.” – you told him teasingly. Anthony let go of your hand allowing his hand to go around your waist to your lower back. – “Is that a promise Y/n Holmes?” – he responded smug. You moved your head closer to his, drawn to him. – “It is a promise.” – you breathed out wanting his lips on yours.

Anthony inhaled deep near your lips, anticipating the moment your lips would touch. – “You are not going anywhere Y/n.” – he whispered to you teasing your lips with the presence of his. You vigorously shook your head moving your hands around his neck. – “I shall not.” – you replied before you forced your lips onto his. An explosion of feelings bursting inside of you. Lips kissing each other with the upmost passion and longing.

Your body being pressed against his, wanting you as deeply as he could. No more you needed to feel saddened. No more you needed to leave. No more you were unloved having finally found your match.

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

Read more of my fic’s on my Masterlists!

[neuroticbookworm]

Love in the Big City Part 4: We All Need T-aras in Our Lives

So, fun fact: the day after I finished reading the book Love in the Big City, I had a sob session that came dangerously close to The Great Hunger Games meltdown I had in 2015. Young’s story was deeply moving, and the fact that it was presented to us in Young’s voice, dripping in self-proclaimed “objective self-judgement” made it more relatable to me. It was one of the reasons why I dreaded watching Part 4, and why it took me several days to even process the episodes, and separate them from the source material.

Part 4 of the book was intensely introspective. When Young walked his path to acceptance, littered with grief, despair, sadness, unfairness, distraction (which ultimately proved ineffective), and so much more, we, as readers, walked alongside him. We don’t see him interact with anyone else in this section, with the brief exception of Habibi. In fact, I remember being struck by how much of Gyu-ho we had in this section. Young tried to run and fuck his feelings away, but learned that this time around, he can’t. Gyu-ho had meant too much. They had too much, which is now lost, and it demanded to be grieved. The final line of the book, “Gyu-ho. My only wish” was so haunting, and yet tinged with the tiniest sliver of hope. Maybe next time, he won’t run. Next time, he might choose to stay and talk.

All of this is why I felt.. disconnected, after I watched episodes 7 and 8 of the show. I am a big proponent of the fact that change is a deeply painful process, and I felt like some of the show’s adaptation choices in this section took away from showing us Go Yeong’s painful emotional processing. But, after several days of sitting with my thoughts, and many conversations with friends, I decoupled the show from the book, and asked myself “What spoke to me in this section?” And the answer was: the inclusion of T-aras and the message the show sent with it.

I absolutely love that T-aras were banging down Go Yeong’s door to check on him, after not hearing from him for six days. I love that they shoved him into the shower and dragged him out for a celebratory meal for quitting his corporate job. Go Yeong rolled his eyes at all the eggshells his friends were walking around, but I am glad that they were undeterred and made sure to always have him around to express his exasperation. I love that T-aras called Go Yeong to witness Eun Su getting engaged. I love that Eun Su chose to be vulnerable with Go Yeong, sharing his fears around marriage. And lastly, I am so, so glad that the show left us with the final scene of Go Yeong watching the fireworks with T-aras.

As I processed this show, I remembered reading an observation on the interwebs about Eeyone from Winne the Pooh that stuck with me. No matter how pessimistic, sad, and depressed Eeyore was, his friends never left him behind. They always included his sad self in their adventures, listened to his sad tales, and enjoyed his sad company. He might think that he is not a lot of fun to be around, but it does not matter to his friends, who want him around anyways.

It took me a while to understand this, but I now believe that while change is still a deeply painful process, it does not have to be a lonely one. I am glad that the show decided to centre the exteriority of Go Yeong’s emotional processing, rather than recreating the book’s focus on the interiority of it. Both are equally important, and neither takes away from the other.

My inability to participate in the LITBC book club discussion due to live events gave me intense FOMO for weeks, so I am very happy that I got to participate in the show’s discourse. Thank you @bengiyo and @lurkingshan for organizing the book club, and encouraging discourse with discussion questions and meta-round ups. And thank you to my friends, book club members, and gif makers for sharing your thoughts and work here, and enriching my watch experience immensely. See y’all around on the hellsite!

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - death of loved one,, age gap

Chapter 2

The fog was so thick on the Autobahn back to Wiesbaden that I didn’t get home until 2 a.m. My parents had waited up, wanting to know everything that had happened. I told them Matt was a gentleman, that he was funny and entertained his friends all night, and that I’d had a wonderful time.

The next day in school, I couldn’t concentrate. My thoughts were entirely on Matt. I tried to recall every word he’d said to me, every song he’d sung, every look in his eyes as he’d gazed at me. I went over and over our conversation. His charm was captivating. I told no one. Who would ever believe that just the night before, I’d been with Matt Sturniolo?

I never expected to hear from him again. Then, a few days later, the phone rang. It was Steven. He said he’d just got a call from Matt, who wondered if it was possible for Steven to bring me over that night. I was ecstatic. “Steven, you don’t mean it? He wants to see me? Why? When did he call?” Unable to answer all my questions, Steven said calmly, “You want me to ask your father?”

My parents were as surprised as I. They reluctantly acceded to Steven’s request.

The next visit was very much like the one before—small talk, singing, Matt playing the piano, and everyone eating Grandma’s favorite dishes. But later, when Matt had finished singing, he came up to me. “I want to be alone with you, y/n.”

We were standing face to face, staring into each other’s eyes. I looked around. The room was empty.

“We are alone,” I replied nervously.

He moved closer, backing me against the wall. “I mean really alone,” he whispered. “Will you come upstairs to my room?”

The question threw me into a panic. His room?

Until that moment, it hadn’t crossed my mind that Matt Sturniolo might be interested in me sexually. He could have any girl in the world. Why would he want me?

“There’s nothing to be frightened of, Honey.”

As he spoke, he was smoothing my hair. “I swear I’ll never do anything to harm you.” He sounded absolutely sincere. “I’ll treat you just like a sister.” Flustered and confused, I looked away.

“Please.”

Standing there looking into his eyes, I was drawn to him almost against my will. I believed him; it wasn’t a difficult thing to do. I had discovered by now his intentions were warm and sincere. Moments went by and I still couldn’t do anything. Then I nodded. “All right, I’ll go.”

He took my hand and led me toward the stairs, whispering which room was his, and said, “You go on ahead, and I’ll join you in a few minutes. It looks better.”

He headed toward the kitchen as I slowly climbed the stairs, wondering, What would he demand of me? Expect of me? I will be completely alone with him for the first time. Since meeting him I had dreamed of this moment, sure that it would never arrive, and now I was in the midst of a reality I’d never expected.

I reached the second floor and found his bedroom. It was as plain and impersonal as the other rooms of the house. I went in and sat down primly on a stiff-backed chair—and waited. When Matt didn’t show up after a few minutes, I began to look around. It was an ordinary room with nothing unusual, certainly nothing to imply that it belonged to a famous rock-and-roll singer. There were books, a collection of records, his uniforms, and his boots. There were several letters from girls in the States on his night table. Many were from someone named Nicole. Matt rarely mentioned Nicole, but everyone knew he had a girl back home. I wanted to read the letters but was afraid he’d catch me. It was another twenty minutes before he finally appeared. He came in, removed his jacket, turned on the radio, and then sat down on his bed. I hardly looked at him, petrified of what he might expect. I imagined him grabbing me, throwing me down on the bed, and making love to me.

Instead he said, “Why don’t you come over here and sit next to me?” I was reluctant, but he assured me that I had nothing to be afraid of. “I really like you, y/n. You’re refreshing. It’s nice to talk to someone from back home. I miss that. It gets a little lonely here.”

I sat next to him, saying nothing, but I was touched by his vulnerable, boyish quality. He went on to say that our relationship was going to be important to him and that he needed me. It was October and he was scheduled to return to the States in six months. He knew lots of girls, he said, and many had come to visit as I had, but I was the first girl with whom he felt a real closeness.

I cuddled into his arms, certain he would not move too fast. He held me closely, saying, “I just wish Mom could have been here to meet you.” He sighed and a troubled look came over his face. “She would have liked you as much as I do.”

“I wish I could have met her,” I whispered, moved by his sincerity.

I was to learn that Matt’s mother, Mary Lou, was the love of his life. She had died on August 14, 1958, at age forty-two, of heart failure following a long siege of acute hepatitis.

He expressed how deeply he loved and missed her and how in many ways he dreaded returning to Graceland without her there. It had been his gift to her, a private estate that he’d purchased for $100,000 a year before she died.

Matt believed that his mother had eventually given up on life. Her health had begun to deteriorate when he was drafted. Her love for James and Matt was so great that she could never face the loss of either of them and often said she wanted to be the first to go. In Mary Lou’s naive, country way she assumed that Germany still represented war and danger. She could never comprehend that peacetime conditions now prevailed.

It was Matt’s habit to phone Mary Lou every day. I was surprised to learn that up until the time he began entertaining, he never spent a night away from home. He told me of the time his car caught on fire while on the road and he barely escaped with his life. Although she was miles away, Mary Lou sat straight up in her bed and screamed his name—the intuitive link between them was that strong. Her concern for his welfare while he was away from home was so great that she would spend sleepless nights until his call came, telling her he was safe.

When he was in basic training at Fort Hood, Texas, he rented a house off base for James, Mary Lou, and Grandma. I felt that her death affected him more than anyone could fully understand. He blamed himself for not being with her when she fell ill and had to be sent back home to Boston under a doctor’s care.

In time he realized that Mary Lou had resorted to drinking, and he was very concerned that this could become a problem. As much as he consoled her, assured her that he would return in eighteen months, and even begged her to join him, Mary Lou’s fear of losing her only son drove her to her grave.

Matt’s unrelieved depression over Mary Lou’s death was intensified by the conflict in Matt’s mind over Angela Stanley, who James had met in Germany. Angela and his father had become inseparable shortly after Mary Lou’s death, too soon to Matt’s liking. An attractive blonde in her thirties, Angela was in the process of divorcing her husband and was separated from him and her three children when she started dating James. The thought that his father could ever conceive of replacing Mary Lou upset Matt terribly. He also had doubts about Angela’s intentions and whether they were in his father’s best interest.

“What’s Angela trying to do?” Matt sometimes asked suspiciously. “Make him into some dude he’s not? Why can’t she just accept him the way he is? I’ve never seen him so lovesick. She meets him at some restaurant and exchanges love notes all day.”

My heart went out to Matt that night as he confided his problems and worries. He was a world-famous entertainer, a great star, and yet a terribly lonely man.

Again our visit seemed to end too soon. He kissed me goodbye, my first real kiss. I had never experienced such a mixture of affection and desire. I was speechless but closely tied to the reality of where I was—locked in his arms, my mouth against his. Aware of my response—and my youth—he broke away first, saying, “We have plenty of time, Little One.” He kissed my forehead and sent me home.

By our fourth date, Dad had laid down the law: “If you want to continue seeing Matt, we’re going to have to meet him.” My parents weren’t so enthralled with his celebrity status that they were willing to compromise their principles. In the beginning it was convenient for Steven to come for me and bring me home, but by now my parents were asking why Matt didn’t do this himself. One Saturday night I said to Matt, “My parents want to meet you. They want you to pick me up.”

He bristled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said nervously, “I can’t come see you anymore unless you come and meet my parents.”

He agreed—provided he could bring his father along.

That day I went through my usual routine except instead of being ready one hour in advance it was two. I waited by the window, looking for his car as I played his records“Old Shep,” “I Was the One,” and “I Want You, I Need You, I Love You”—nonstop until my father yelled from the kitchen, “Do you have to play those records now? My God, the man will be here in a few minutes and you see him practically every night. I’d think you’d want to take a breather from each other.”

I was nervous. I knew that Dad wanted Matt to both pick me up and bring me home himself—and he planned to tell Matt this.

I didn’t know how Dad was going to approach him—whether he planned to be friendly or stern—and I knew only too well how stern Dad could be. I sat there, anticipating the worst.

About an hour later, I spotted Matt’s BMW and saw Matt and his father emerge from the car. Matt had come totally prepared; he was wearing his uniform to impress Dad. He knew that the service was their connection, and he played on it. He looked great.

He took off his hat and kissed me on the cheek. I asked him and his father in and led them into our living room, where Matt fidgeted and seemed, for once, at a loss for words. “Are your parents here?” he ventured. I could manage only a nod and he continued, “I know we’re a little late, but I had to get cleaned up—and we had some trouble finding the place.” I was amused—imagine, Matt Sturniolo making up excuses. I was now sufficiently aware of his habits to know that it took him three hours to change, chat with the boys, enjoy one of Grandma’s huge meals, and sign a few autographs along the way. Except when he was working, he had a stricter attitude toward time.

While James settled on the couch, Matt pointed to our family portraits on the wall and said, “Look here, Dad—here’s y/n with her whole family. I think she looks like her mother. Can’t see too much resemblance with her brothers or sister—they’re still a little too young.” “Don’t cut your hair, Baby. I love it long like this. You’re one pretty girl. How’d I happen to run into you? Must be fate.” The last few observations were uttered in a whisper to me as my parents came in.

Instead of saying, “Hi,” as most young men would have done, Matt put out his hand and said, “Hello, I’m Matt Sturniolo and this is my dad, James.”

It sounded silly to me, they knew who he was, as did the whole world. But Matt was the perfect gentleman. My father was visibly impressed, and from that moment on, Matt always addressed him as Captain y/ln or Sir. This was characteristic of Matt, whatever a person’s position in life—whether doctor or lawyer, professor or motion-picture director, unless someone were in Matt’s immediate circle, Matt rarely used first names, even in dealing with people he’d known for years. As he once explained to me, “It’s simple. They’ve worked hard to get where they are. Someone should respect them.”

The conversation with my parents that night was just small talk. Matt said that he’d spent a busy day at the Kaserne and this led to an exchange about the service.

“What did they assign you to over here?” Dad asked, implying that it had better be a solid job if Matt wanted to take out his daughter.

“Sir, right now I’m basically driving a jeep for the Fourth Armored Division in Bad Nauheim.”

“That can be tough this time of year.”

“You’re not kidding, sir. We’ve had some pretty cold nights out there already. I have to be especially careful. I battle tonsillitis when my resistance gets low, which isn’t good for my voice.”

“I guess you’re looking forward to going home.”

“Yes, sir. Only five more months.”

Then Matt asked my parents how they liked being stationed in Germany.

“Very much,” Dad said. “We plan on being here for three years.”

There was a sudden silence. Then Dad offered dinner, but Matt said they didn’t have time. I sat attentively, observing Matt’s uneasiness and remembering his relaxed manner in his own home. He was on his best behavior and it was endearing. Mother was reserving judgment about this rock-and-roll star she had professed to dislike so much. I could see that his Southern charm was winning her over.

Finally, my father got around to explaining to Matt the y/ln dating rules. If he wanted to see me, Matt had to pick me up and bring me home. Matt explained that by the time he got off duty, went home, cleaned up, came to Wiesbaden and back, the evening would be gone. Would it be all right if his father would collect me?

Dad mulled this over, then expressed his concern. “Just what is the intent here? Let’s face it: You’re Matt Sturniolo. You have women throwing themselves at you. Why my daughter?”

Both Matt and James were caught offguard. James shifted from one side of the chair to the other, probably thinking, Okay, Matt, how are you going to get out of this one?

Matt said, “Well, sir, I happen to be very fond of her. She’s a lot more mature than her age and I enjoy her company. It hasn’t been easy for me, being away from home and all. It gets kinda lonely. I guess you might say I need someone to talk to. You don’t have to worry about her, Captain. I’ll take good care of her.”

Matt’s honesty disarmed Dad, just as it did my mother. I joined Matt as he stood, picked up his hat, and added, “Well, sir, we’ve got a long drive.”

There was one stipulation: Matt himself had to bring me home. He agreed, reassuring them that I would be well taken care of, that there were a lot of family members at his house. He could have ridiculed Dad’s request, yet he agreed to take me home every night. I was thrilled but contained my excitement. He really wanted to be with me.

The next night, when Matt brought me home, we parked in front of the pension. He poured out his heart to me, as he would continue to do throughout our time in Germany. He was lonely. He was unsure of how he would be received by his fans when he returned to the States.

When he’d entered the Army, he had been at the pinnacle of his fame. He’d recorded seventeen straight million-selling singles and had starred in four films, all of which had become box-office hits. When Matt was drafted there had been talk of him possibly joining the Special Services, where he could have sung and retained some rapport with the public. But Colonel William, his manager, and RCA were convinced that he should serve his country as a regular soldier, claiming that the public would respect Matt as a man if he went in as a buck private. Now Matt was afraid he might have lost the support of his fans.

While we were parked, one of the Frauleins who lived in the pension passed the car. She greeted me and then, when she glanced at Matt, her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

a/n - i know this is a slower paced story but its solely based off the book. there will be quite a lot of chapters and time skips so don’t worry too much! 🎀

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

[ticklishthoughts1]

Hyperfocus:Ribs

NGL, this was long overdue but I have been busy as of late ^w^

I'm just sitting down, reading, a relatively often occurence. I look up as they come in, and a smile lights up my face. I wave them over, setting the book down and hugging them, then moving over on the bed so they can lay next to me, they themselves getting a novel. Life can be so chaotic, fun but wild at times. It makes these times with them, just quietly being together, enjoying each others presence, all the more precious. Of course, them being them, the silence wouldn't be forever. I feel a poke in my side, and look up, only to see them reading. Hmm. I slowly look down, and 3 minutes later, another poke. I whip my head up, and see them looking at the book, a barely contained silly smile on their face. Aha. I roll my eyes playfully, then pretend to look back down. As soon as they slowly reach out to poke my sides again, I grab their wrist, turning, straddling their wasit, and using my forearm to hold both arms above their head, on the pillows. I smirk as they struggle to pull free, but don't, and touch foreheads with them softly, whispering "New Story. This one is about the Little Lee who liked to poke the bear...The Lee with Ticklish Ribs~". My insinuation is noticed, I can tell by the small look of lee panic in their eyes. I smirk, and simply rest one hand on the left side of their ribcage, before drawling out "Now...let's see how many toys we have to play with, hmm?~". I roll their shirt up, before resting two fingers on an individual rib, "counting" it, by vibrating both fingers on the rib and moving on to the next rib as they squirm around under me. "1......2......3...4.....5....6....Dang it! You're so Squirmy! I lost count of which one I was on...guess we gotta start allllll Over!~ Try to be still this time, Darling. 1.....2....3.....4...5...6...7...8..........Ah heck, I got lost in your eyes about that. Dang. What number was I on? An 'EEHEHEHEHEIHIGHT' ? What is that? Guess we'll just restart again~". I "lose count" 3 more times, and get it right on the 6th try, then I stop, locking eyes with you, and growl out happily, my voice deepening. "I'm gonna do it again. Not because I lost count. Because I can tell you're loving this, and that's just so cute I wanna keep going forever, Sweetheart~". The Flustered Expression on their face tells me I hit the money on my Analysis of their feelings about this whole event. Good. I count the ribs one more time, Painstakingly Slowly, and then finally, I stop counting, and get up.

Oh but I'm not done.

Not by a long shot.

Instead, I tell you to wait, leaving the room for just a second before coming back with a couple of paintbrushes, and paint that's safe for their skin. I giggle evilly, then climb back on the bed, drawling out "Here's the deal, cutie. You have to keep your hands above your head, whether gripping each other, or on the bedframe, while I paint. If you can't, I'll pin you again~". I tilt my head, smiling as they lock their arms over their head, then go over, and straddle them once more, beginning to paint. I'm thorough, using a smaller brush to get in between each rib. My concentration is pure, but not enough to not notice how hard they're trying to keep still for me, which I note on: "Awwwww, you're doing such a good job Baby!~ Being nice and still for me...guess you still like this, huh?~". I wink at them, both of us knowing full well that you loving it was the entire reason I do this. After about 3-5 minutes I finish painting, then raise a washrag, giggling as I begin to scrub the paint off, wiggling my fingers through the rag, and watching them stop holding their arms above their head, cooing "Calm down baby we've gotta get you clean!~". When done, I grin at them then say slowly, softly "There we go...clean enough to eat~". I chuckle when I see their eyes widen, and before they can stop me, I start nomming their ribs gently. I do this for 2 minutes, then, scrub them off AGAIN, and finally, pull you into a hug, stroking their back gently. After a while, we get back to reading, and it's like nothing happened.

Except for the blush on their face.

And the warm smile on mine.

[fleeceyang]

tagged by MY BEX 💜 @kimkaitual i feel like everyone’s already gotten around to this game so consider this an open invitation to all my oomfs

Last Song: gemini by blk odssy. finally listened to it in full after a year 😭 i need to give it a couple more listens but i’ll say it’s a 7.5/10 for now, a solid album. gemini, phases, and chasing fantasies are my faves!

Favorite Color: a contstant cycle between red, green and purple. currently digging green the most 🍵 sage green to be precise

Last Book: just finished reading i’m glad my mom died by jenette mccurdy! moving on to pachinko by min jin lee

Last Movie: all we imagine as light ❤️‍🩹 and i’m going to watch nosferatu tonight ^_^

Last TV Show: currently watching suits (HARVEY and DONNA 🙏🏽) and rewatching the final table (RAFA and ESDRAS 🙏🏽) the only cooking show to my knowledge that isn’t scripted i fawking love this show

Sweet / Savoury / Spicy: savoury babyyyyyy

Relationship Status: love is a moral failing or whatever oomfs say

Last Thing I Searched: forecast. it’s 1°c here

Current Obsession: suits tv, baldur’s gate, banana lemon smoothies, burek

Looking Forward To: seeing flo and denzel curry live!and the stardew valley orchestra omg yay ⭐️ i’m going to try to cosplay sandy of calico desert fame

Favorite Drink: banana smoothie 😋

Song Playing 24/7: image by magdalena bay……ohhhh my god make me in your image ohhhh so hot through a two-way mirror ohhhh my god only one more minute ohhhh so hot meet your brand new image ohhhhhh! 💥💥

Current Favorite Character: louis from suits YOU JUST GOT LITT THE FUCK UP‼️ ☕️

Fun Activity I’d Like to Get Into: dancing and shooting super 8 film! i recently bought a secondhand yashica camera for a really good price! she’s gorgeous

Last Video Game: baldur’s gate 3. it’s consuming my life. just a little bit tho

Last comic: smashed by junji ito

[echodrops]

The Promises I’m Making (2024)

Sheesh, this year it was even harder than last year to make promises. In particular, I really wanted to focus on promises that wouldn't cost as much money as in prior years, so I tried to steer clear of too many promises that would cost above the basic spending amounts... But it turns out it is really hard to make resolutions if you're broke. 😂

So here's what I'm going with:

2024 Promises

1) Step down from my administrative position and return to being a full-time faculty member. I literally cannot take the clown show that is admin at my work anymore. It is actually killing me.

2) Related to this, redecorate my new office as soon as they decide where they are going to move me.

3) Apply for new jobs!! APPLY FOR NEW JOBS!!!

4) Train my replacement in the chair position well so they are super prepared to take over in fall.

5) Put a new sink/vanity in the downstairs bathroom of the Utah house.

6) Get both bedroom floors sanded in the Utah house upstairs.

7) Finally get rid of the dirt pile in front of the Utah house.

8) Take down the remains of the wooden fence posts at the Utah house.

9) Fully clean out and prepare the Utah house to be rented out to new renters. Hopefully the next people won’t sneak in a parrot that poops all over the floor… RIP…

10) Clean off my back patio/car port area so I can park my car there again.

11) Call the plumber and replace the faucets. Even if I end up having to do it myself.

12) Get the dead tree removed from the Texas house yard and call the internet company to see about the cable around the tree root.

13) Plant roses where the old ones died in front of the Texas house. 

14) Replace my CPU fan; the bearings are going out and it’s making an annoying noise.

15) Organize my documents (especially student papers)—my desktop and documents folders give me nightmares just looking at them. 

16) Related to that, lose at least 20 pounds. 2020-2023 was not kind to me and the stress eating was real.

17) Do at least one artwork to actually use that paint program I bought. 

18) Pay my credit debt down by at least $2000. I’m still paying off the hell year, but I hope I can make progress on this.

19) Buy all the Noragami volumes I am missing and do a complete re-read of Noragami now that the series is finishing up.

20) This is super nerdy, but my bro got me the FFXIV cookbook and made me promise to actually use it, so I guess I’d better at least try to make something from it.

21) Finish at least five books this year.

22) Update HaaH at least once. Please, Echo???

23) Reach the new level cap with all jobs in FFXIV!

24) Go to the graduation ceremony for my family friend.

25) Catch up with hanging up all the charms/pins I’ve gotten recently on my corkboards; these are just sitting in boxes/bags around the house. D;

26) Fully deep clean and vacuum/detail my own car at home. No more of the “It doesn’t make sense to clean it out now; the dog is just going to go back in it.” The dog is always going to go back in it. Clean it, Echo.

27) Help my parents tear out the carpet in my old childhood bedroom.

28) See at least three new species of birds. Doesn’t matter where, just three new ones!

29) Reach 3500 followers. Can I do it? You should follow me if you’re not already; I’m pretty cool. Just sayin’!

30) Cancel all the subscriptions I don’t need. There’s literally no reason to sit around letting companies passively profit off me when I don’t even really use the services/the services keep getting worse while the costs keep going up.

31) Go out on at least a day trip to take pictures with my friend. We haven’t done this in quite some time. I need to touch grass.

32) Repair the lovely one-of-kind ceramic plate that my dog broke with kintsugi. I want to try it at least once!

33) Really look hard for my passport in my house. It’s been missing for like a year and a half now, and I don’t want to have to pay for a new one.

34) Put all the small prints, postcards, and stickers I have collected in my new mini-print books. I can even use up washi tape to decorate too. (Finally, a purpose for the washi tape…)

35) Shred the million pieces of old mail I have lying around the house. I finally got the shredder so it just makes sense to use it.

36) Have more follow-through with chores. It’s not enough to wash the clothes or do the dishes if I then procrastinate on folding the clean laundry and putting the dried dishes back in the cabinets…

37) Put reminders for birthdays and major events in my phone as well as set a monthly reminder to check these promises. Maybe I’ll be able to keep more promises if I look at the list more often throughout the year!

38) Since I can’t afford to go to the salon, spa, etc. too much this year, I should at least do some self-care days at home. Will this be the year I finally manage to use all the fancy scrubs and face masks and bath salts I keep getting from people?

39) Use up one whole notebook. It doesn’t matter what goes in the notebook, but I gotta use the whole thing from cover to cover. I have so many pretty notebooks that never get used just because they’re pretty.

40) Change the burned-out lightbulbs in the recessed lighting in the Texas house ceiling. It’s like twelve feet high and the lightbulb charger stick I bought didn’t work, so I’m going to have to find someone with a ladder. Save me, handyman. Save me.

41) Build the pretty koi paper lantern my brother got me, or the Korean temple model my coworker gave me after his trip to Korea.

42) Actually use the yoga mat I bought forever ago. At least a few times, please???

43) Finish watching the Fruits Basket remake with Kacchan. I think we stopped in the second season, RIP.

44) Spend more time with coworkers—go out to lunch more often.

45) See about removing the PMI from at least one of my house loans to try to save money. I’ve been paying on these loans long enough I shouldn’t need PMI anymore.

46) Practice my German skills (or I guess other language skills?) by translating something at least once a month.

47) Get a new bookshelf. The current ones in both my office and foyer are already overflowing. @_@

48) Make more time to call people and talk on the phone. Texting is not the same. D;

49) Get the new COVID vaccine to stay healthy.

50) I will keep my promises! 

Good luck, 2024’s me!

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (9/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.6k

I'm not quite sure how to tag a trigger warning for this, so just a note that in this chapter, Rhys uses his daemati ability to force someone to vomit.

Some dialogue and the riddle are taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the ninth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - the altar is my hips | ch 2. - an arrowhead leading us home | ch. 3 - by the way, i just may like some explanations | ch. 4 - can't not think of all the cost | ch. 5 - honey i rose up from the dead | ch. 6 - this mad, mad love makes you come running | ch. 7 - therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you | ch. 8 - it's not his price to pay | ch. 9 - is it chill that you're in my head?

There was a note of anxiety mixed in with everything else that leaked through Rhys's shields this time. My own heart hammering seemingly in time with his and my stomach churning, I paced the cell and counted my steps in a vain attempt to occupy myself. I nearly ripped apart the pallet of hay just to have something to do with my hands. Wisely, the guards hadn't left me anything sharp, but I longed for a rock or something I could use to scrape artwork onto the wall and settle my mind.

Eventually, Rhys's side of the bond quieted, and I suspected he'd fallen asleep. It seemed cruel to wake him if Amarantha had wrung him out so thoroughly. I left him alone.

When the dungeon was this silent, I felt the echo of the stag's magic inside me more strongly. It hadn't faded the slightest bit since Calanmai. The few times I managed to stop worrying about Rhys, my thoughts drifted back to the new immortality I'd been left with. If I ever got out from Under the Mountain, I'd watch my family get old and die while I stayed looking exactly the same. The few decades I had left with them seemed impossibly long to me now, but in a few centuries, it would feel like the blink of an eye. Wrapping my mind around it was nearly enough to give me a headache.

When Nuala and Cerridwen appeared an hour later, I nearly wept with relief that I was finally getting a change of scenery. I might have gone mad otherwise.

Completely silent again, they brought me to the same bathing chamber and repeated the process of stripping me down and painting me, this time extending the paint all the way down to my fingertips. The twins couldn't possibly know it, but the paint would obscure the tattoo if the glamour failed. And again, I let them work.

But this time, the bundle of fabric they held out for me could barely be called a dress for completely new reasons. And I really, really wished Rhys had warned me better.

Thin panels of gauzy white fabric barely covered my breasts. They flowed into a single panel at the front and back of my legs, secured by a gold belt that didn't give me much confidence I'd stay covered if I moved the wrong way.

Nuala brushed makeup over my face as Cerridwen did my hair, coiling it around a gold diadem she placed on my head. I took deep breaths and tried to curb my rising panic as they worked. By the time they finished, I was nearly unrecognizable. Rhys had mentioned potentially dressing me up during our first conversation in my cell, so this didn't come as a complete surprise—it was not knowing the full details of what was happening that was eating at me.

"You look horrible in white."

The twins faded into the shadows as I turned to see Rhys leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and his face twisted in disgust. He was so still and silent that I suspected he'd been watching me for a while.

I expected to see hunger as his eyes swept down my body and he took in all the exposed skin, but there was nothing but revulsion. I didn't mind; it was better than being leered at. And then I realized I'd only ever seen him slide his hands into his pockets when he was making a show of something.

I saw through the act—Rhys was nervous.

I just raised my brows, resisting the urge to cross my arms and attempt to cover myself. He'd seen all of it before anyway. "Should I take that to mean you weren't the one who picked this out?" I said, my voice sharp.

"I was. You looking horrible and making a mockery of your so-called virginity was the point." I bit back a retort that I could have figured that much out for myself and just waited for him to explain. He didn't seem the least bit frantic, which could only mean we weren't in a rush. He continued, "We're exploiting the loophole that you never had to be sober when you heard the riddle."

That explained the instruction not to drink anything that he didn't hand to me personally—I understood where he was going with this. "But you're not actually giving me anything stronger than water?" Somehow, the words came out calm and not like the desperate plea for reassurance they were.

"Precisely," Rhys said, and I let his apparent confidence steady me. It might have been an act, but it was a good one. "The evening's entertainment will be humiliating the drunk human. Amarantha will taunt you, saying it's such a shame you can't handle faerie wine because the riddle was so simple. I couldn't see another way she'd give you something easy."

The revealing dress made it obvious enough what sort of humiliation was in store for me. I'd force myself through it if it meant another shot at the riddle—I could guess what it had cost Rhys to change Amarantha's mind so quickly, and I wouldn't let that go to waste.

There was just one problem. "Rhys, I— I've never actually been drunk before," I said, cheeks burning.

His eyes went wide with shock, and he swore under his breath. Perhaps I'd said the one thing that could shred his cool demeanor to ribbons. "How old are you, Feyre?"

"Nineteen." I still didn't quite know him well enough to read all the emotions that crossed his face in quick succession, but now really wasn't the time to discuss this in detail. We had work to do. "But that doesn't matter, I'll be able to pretend. I just might need a bit of help."

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly gathering himself before looking at me again. "I won't let you fail."

I considered that for a moment, wondering if it was just reassurance or there was something else he was getting at. "If the performance isn't convincing will you…step in?" It was vague, but I wasn't sure how exactly to ask.

"Step in?"

"Take over with your daemati abilities. Unless…the Night Court won't let you do that to me?"

Rhys stilled. Voice soft, he said, "You would trust me enough to do that?"

"Yes. Without hesitation." I thought it was obvious—if I didn't trust him, I wouldn't have been nearly so composed after being forced with no explanation into a dress that left me so bare and exposed.

His throat bobbed. He reached for me, then glanced at the paint on my body and dropped his hand, as if thinking better of smearing it. "I thought you might hate me for planning this without asking. I wanted to explain, but she was….demanding last night. I managed to steer the conversation back to the riddle, and I took the opportunity while it was there."

If he'd done the opposite—given up a potential advantage to spare my feelings—I might actually have hated him. Flinching away from hard choices would damn us all.

"I can handle anything as long as you're on my side."

"You shouldn't have to."

I felt myself tense up—that was a dangerous line of thinking, and one I was too familiar with. For a moment, it was as if I was back in the cabin, slinging a quiver over my shoulder even though I shouldn't have to be the one to feed my family. My hands seemed to curl into fists of their own accord.

We would not fall into that particular trap today.

"You didn't answer my question. Will you be able to take over if I need you to?"

Something in my voice made Rhys stand a little straighter, and I caught the briefest flash of the soldier he'd been centuries ago, before becoming High Lord. I'd never seen it before, but it seemed to be exactly what we needed from him to get through this.

"I will. Daemati abilities aren't connected to the Night Court."

It was exactly the answer I'd been hoping for, and a bit more of my nervousness faded. I even managed a smile. "Then let's solve a riddle and get home tonight."

I watched the smirk bloom on his face as he ceased to be the male I knew and became the Lord of Nightmares. The mask was firmly on as he purred, "The festivities await. Allow me the honor of escorting you."

I followed Rhys through the halls, walking close behind him but not touching. With him near, the mating bond seemed to uncoil again. Despite being about to enter a lion's den wearing nothing but scraps of too-sheer fabric, I hardly felt any fear.

It didn't keep me from shivering in the cold, though.

My feet were half-frozen from the stone floor, but I gritted my teeth and waited for them to go numb. It was better this way—no one would think I could possibly be a threat if I couldn't run. I just kept my hands at my sides and attempted to look as unbothered as I could. As we passed through the doors, I opened a crack in my shields for Rhys.

The same music from when I'd first arrived Under the Mountain was playing in the throne room again. It was as crowded as I'd ever seen it, though everyone gave Rhys—and by extension, me—a wide berth.

There was something satisfying about being the only one in Rhys's orbit, in a strange, instinctual way. It was probably just due to the mating bond, but I liked being the only one close enough to touch him in a crowded room. At the very least, it made all the gawking easier to ignore.

I followed him to the dais where Amarantha sat, Tamlin at her side as always. I half-listened as Rhys bowed and wished her a good evening, just watched Tamlin for a reaction again. He continued staring straight ahead as if he'd been turned to stone. Coward.

I schooled my features to look faintly bored as Amarantha took in the sight of me. She broke into a cold grin. "Rhysand, you must get your eye for fashion from your lowborn whore of a mother," she said.

I didn't fully understand the insult to his mother, but Rhys just inclined his head and said, "I'm flattered you think so." Polished as ever, he sounded as if it didn't bother him in the slightest. But I felt the truth of his rage through the bond.

"Feyre dear, turn around so we can appreciate the view from the back as well," Amarantha said, making a show of holding her hand out so the ring with Jurian's eye pointed at me. I bit back a retort about how kind it was of her to ensure that everyone here had an unobstructed view.

I stepped out from behind Rhys and did as she asked. He took advantage of the brief pause in the conversation to slip into my mind and answer the question he must have heard. She was an extraordinary seamstress.

When it became clear she wasn't getting much of a reaction from anyone, Amarantha dismissed us with a flick of her hand and an irritated, "Enjoy my party."

Rhys walked over to a table laden with food and drink, and I followed at his heels like a dog. The faeries that had been standing around it cleared out quickly. He reached for a bottle, seemingly at random, and filled a goblet.

"Wine?" he said, offering it to me. In my head, he added, It's safe. I shook my head anyway, trusting he understood I was just doing it for show. He pressed the goblet closer to me. When he spoke again, Rhys dropped his voice low in that way that had heat pooling in my lower abdomen, even though it was very much not the time for that. "Try it. I think you'll like it."

I gave him one wary look before snatching the goblet from him and chugging it. The liquid inside tasted of nothing but water. As I swallowed every last drop, I tried to ignore the chuckles of the faeries who were watching us. When I lowered the goblet, I wiped at my lips with the back of my hand. The smear of liquid from the goblet was dark red.

But my head was still perfectly clear.

I forced out a giggle that sounded nothing like me at all. It must have been convincing because there was a flicker of Rhys's approval down the bond as he poured another glass. But instead of passing it to me, he placed his free hand on my lower back.

I let him herd me towards a chair and perch me in his lap. It was a relief to finally get my feet off the cold floor, and more than anything I wanted to press every inch of skin to him I could, even if it was just to leech some warmth. I kept my back straight, shrinking from his touch, but it was so damned difficult not to give into the urge to do the opposite.

As much as I appreciate hearing those thoughts from you, please refrain from shouting them at me when we both need to concentrate.

Even in my head, his voice sounded a bit strained. I was seated too close to his knee to feel if he was hard or not, and before I could dwell too much on that particular line of thought, he was pressing the goblet to my lips again. I let him pour water down my throat until I'd drained all of it.

When he lowered the goblet, I took in the stares and the giggles from the partygoers. Amarantha was leaning over and whispering something to Tamlin, whose blank expression hadn't changed. I didn't want Tamlin to want me, but it enraged me to see no signs of remorse for starting the chain of events that led me being a plaything in his worst enemy's lap.

I held onto that anger as Rhys wrapped a possessive arm around my waist, let it help me look indignant instead of comfortable. I went stiff, and he chuckled in a way that sounded so utterly unlike him that I shivered.

But the discomfort I felt from his side of the bond was the farthest thing from amused.

Feyre. Amarantha wants to make you dance while you hear the riddle. Will you be able to? The music will pick up soon.

Rhys didn't need to specify what kind of dancing it was. I didn't hesitate to say, Yes.

His mind wrapped around mine again, just as it had when he'd forced me to lick his shoes. The apology didn't come in words, just another wave of feeling down the bond, wrapped up in his own sense of self-hatred for not preventing this and territorial anger at everyone leering at me.

I didn't blame him in the slightest.

The strange, otherworldly music got louder, and that was my cue. Rhys said something smug that was more for the benefit of the crowd than me, but I was so focused on keeping up appearances that I barely heard it.

I stood up, trying to look unsteady on my feet. Another spark of approval down the bond told me it was working. The increased stares made me flush deeper, which could only help make this convincing.

I turned to face Rhys as he spread his legs wide and leaned back in the chair. He tucked a hand behind his head, and the lazy smile on his face might have been the most obnoxious thing I'd ever seen in my life.

I pretended to stumble, reaching out and grabbing the top of the chair to steady myself in a way that pushed my breasts towards his face like an embarrassing accident. Rhys laughed, and others followed.

My focus narrowed to just his violet eyes, and everything else fell away. I canted my hips towards his and started to move, letting myself believe we were the only two people in the world. The mask on his face didn't slip, but I saw the truth of him under it.

His mind curled more tightly around mine. I didn't have words for what passed through the bond in that moment, but I could sense the way his entire being was poised to catch me if I fell. I might be the one dancing, but we were in this together.

Feyre, you look too coordinated. Move less in time with the music before they suspect something.

I adjusted as he said, and another flicker of relief down the bond let me know it was enough. The music was already off-kilter, distinctly faerie in a way that set me on edge. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd have to keep this up.

Do they expect me to vomit, Rhys?

Possibly.

Then use your abilities to make me. It will be suspicious if I don't.

Thank the Mother, Rhys didn't hesitate. His talons plunged deeper into me, taking complete control. I couldn't move of my own volition—breathing, blinking, and even the beating of my heart only happened exactly as he willed it.

I was an observer in my own body as he moved my legs in shaking steps around to the side of the chair. There was no nausea as invisible hands bent me over, just the burn of bile Rhys forced up from my stomach. I threw up on the floor.

Amarantha was saying something, but it was a struggle to focus on her words and not the sour taste left in my mouth. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, the taste disappeared—also Rhys's doing. A few more wobbly footsteps, and I was standing between his legs again, facing the crowd.

She's getting ready to give you the riddle. I'll keep hold of your body so you can focus on what she's saying. Is that alright?

Yes. Thank you.

My ass jerked backwards towards his groin as I writhed again, clearly on display. A few faeries here and there looked faintly sick, but most seemed amused. Amarantha smiled right at me and said, "Don't let it be said I don't hold up my end of a bargain, Feyre. Here's the riddle I promised you." Her grin went wider than I'd ever seen it as she added, "It's a shame faerie wine is too strong for you to remember it tomorrow."

I cleared my mind, focusing and memorizing every word as she spoke, even as Rhys made my hips move in slow, inelegant circles.

There are those who seek me a lifetime but never we meet,

And those I kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet.

At times I seem to favor the clever and the fair,

But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare.

By large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet,

But scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat.

For though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow,

When I kill, I do it slow…

As she sat back and laughed, I'd never felt more useless. Rhys had said this was supposed to be simple, yet I couldn't think of anything that resembled what she'd described, not in the slightest. Mother above, if this was supposed to be easy, I shuddered to think what else she'd had in mind.

Rhys's hands were on my waist again as he pulled me back onto his lap. I let his touch ground me. His talons pulled out of my mind gently, returning the control back to me without it being so sudden I'd react involuntarily and give the ruse away.

Despite having no idea what the answer could be, I let myself bask in the victory for a moment. Just having the riddle in my head meant that Rhys and I had won, and we'd done it right under Amarantha's nose.

Perhaps Amren had been right when she said my mate and I should be unstoppable together.

This time, the brush of Rhys's mind against mine felt like a friendly cat rubbing affectionately against my legs. I took that to mean he'd heard my thoughts and agreed. Now it was just a matter of enduring the rest of the party. All things considered, it didn't seem like too much of an ordeal if it meant I could stay this close to Rhys for a few more hours.

I turned the riddle over in my head as Amarantha went back to taunting Tamlin instead of me. Rhys continued to smirk and poured a few more glasses of "wine" down my throat. I did my best to look like I was struggling not to fall over.

I'd truly thought the worst was over until the throne room doors slammed open. The crowd murmured as the Attor dragged in a sobbing faerie and dropped him right in front of the dais. The faerie didn't even get up off the ground.

"I caught the summer lordling attempting to escape through the caves to the Spring Court lands," the Attor said. It sounded positively gleeful, its tail twitching with excitement like a dog's. "What would you like done with him, my queen?"

Amarantha's eyes snapped to Rhys as she commanded, "Find out why, so I can decide."

I'd been a fool to think the night was anywhere close to over.

[moranice-solvej]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

Thank you for the tag, @rifle-yes <3

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Got introduced to fanfic through an old forum dedicated to a TV-show I was low-key obsessed with as a teen all the way back in 2008. Around the same time I started to get an urge to express myself in writing as I was an avid reader and always had a vivid imagination, so the sheer fact that people just wrote stories to celebrate their favorite stories captivated me.

Since then, there were many attemps to write fanfic and original works alike, very few completed, and only my obsession with Rogue One that started after watching the movie and reading the novelization had put me on the path of publishing my writing and finally being able to complete writing projects.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

Started in a TV-fandom a long time ago, but never had anything I wanted to publish, so mentally I don't even count it. None of those scraps of written down ideas remain; I deleted them and never once looked back. That leaves Rogue One and technically Star Wars as my sole writing fandom. I dearly love many other shows and movies and games, but none of them make me want to write in their universes.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Technically 16 years. Yes, comprehending this number makes me terrified.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I used to read tons of fic before I came back to writing in earnest. Now most of my free time goes into writing.

In addition to that I have ran into a loathesome problem of not being able to find stories that I'd love to read. The ceiling has gotten too high. Now that I can finally shape the kinds of stories I want to read to life, I crave more stories with such premises, themes, writing styles, and character archetypes, and these days I struggle to find them in fanfic and in original books for that matter. My gremlin brain simply cannot connect to the vast majority of tropes that dominate modern-day fandom and culture. :(

Thus, I'm firmly in the mode of be-the-change-you-want-to-be-in-the-world and producing stories for myself to satisfy that need. Even if it routinely takes me over a year, usually two to finish a single story with a monster wordcount and create something I can one day re-read with glee.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I am now able to move an idea from a general concept and a set of pivotal scenes to a fully-fleshed out story and actually finish it. This used to be my achilles heel for ages and it feels mightily gratifying to finally get rid of it.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Origins of blood transfusions in human history. Plus a large variety of niche questions of when thing a or thing b was first invented. Most of the times the setting of my current writing project allows me to disregard our reality and wing it for the sake of the vibes or plot, but I still like to research what we as a species develop and when to try and create a somewhat believable ancient fictional world without modern technology.

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

I have a soft spot for readers who pick on teeny-tiny details of my writing and show their appreciation for it. I end up with monstrous word counts because I'm an extremely context- and detail-oriented writer, and knowing that my passion for it is noticed and enjoyed brings me joy in return.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

My current project centers around a warrior woman in her mid- to late forties who makes peace with her trauma of motherhood and loss, finds new friends and love and new home, defies her nation's traditions and becomes the force of change for her people that will bring them out of stubborn isolation and little by little shatter their callousness and mold it into empathy.

I am well aware that the sole audience of this story is myself and my best friend whom I'm lucky to have along for the ride, but it has took over my heart and it will not let go until I finally bring this epic saga to a close.

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I am simply incapable of writing a traditional short story. Every one-shot I ever made was a stepping stone in a larger verse, and even so the smallest one is over 8k words. Anytime I try to write something small, I either need to put it down because it gets out of hand, or I need to finish it and by that time it grows into a monster.

My last attempt to write a short story within a story has spawned an epic saga that currently sits at roughly 380.000k words and will likely end up over 500.000k words when I'm finally done with it.

10. What is the easiest type?

Monster-sized epics. I think my creative brain cannot function in any other way but go-big-or-go-home.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I've used MS Word for writing ever since I got my first laptop and keep at it. Started using Scrivener lately for establishing character sheets and writing down my notes.

For years now I write almost exclusively over the weekends, with occassional editing in the evenings after work. Between working, needing to keep my apartment clean and myself fed, and dedicating time to mastering my fourth language, I have no brain for creativity after I'm done with all these chores and I use whatever remains of my evening to read, or watch shows with my best friend, or do some gaming.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

In the story I am currently writing, one of the secondary main characters is an ex-slave and a rape survivor. There is no shortage of hurt/comfort stories about a female character's experience with such kind of abuse, and in all my years of reading fic and books I often find that trauma stemming from it is either glossed over or healed through the power of true love. Even when a story follows a road to healing, it often ends in sunshine and rainbows after the all the travails. Well, for a long, long time now my gremlin brain wanted to explore what such trauma can do to a stoic male warrior, as well as to study how sometimes there is no easy healing from such ordeals, how deep these souls scars lie, and how they will keep poisoning the relationship he will pursue down the line and present major obstacles to both non-sexual and sexual intimacy with the woman he falls in love with. I'm a sucker for happy endings and I will not turn away from it, but this is going to be a scarred happy ending because those ghosts are never going to stay completely quiet in his soul.

I am daunted by the prospect of writing this spin-off like I've never been before, scared of not doing it justice, but something in me has latched onto this idea and really, really wants to at least try it.

13. What made you choose your username?

I needed something unique as a username and I have a habit of making up new names out of thin air for my writing. I liked this one and it had stuck. :)

If any writers who follow me would like to join in, you are welcome.

[dgoldenblossom]

I’m happy to bring my book Reigna on tumblr. Here is the full prologue of the book and you can take a look at the rest of the chapters published on Wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/1484753998-reigna-prologue

Prologue

Reigna

I grew up in Los Angeles, and at the time my family was financially unstable. With a baby on the way, they did everything they could to get on their feet before I came but I came at such an unexpected time that they were completely unprepared. My mom found out she was pregnant almost 7 months into her pregnancy because she has a retroverted uterus.

Two years later, my father had plans of starting a small business that changed our lives for the better. But making this business successful wasn't easy with all the loans they were indebted with. Student loans being the main one. My father and his best friend, who was also his partner in business, were trying their best to run this business right, but there was always something that came up.

At some point they could no longer pay their mortgage, so my mother decided to go back to China where she was from. She claimed that America was a crazy country, and she was tired of the ups and downs with her and my father. She moved back to China with me when I was 8 years old, where I finally got to meet my grandmother.

My father stayed.

They were still married even though they were far from each other, their love never died and I always looked up to their love. With us away. Everything started getting better. My father could finally concentrate on running the company better and taking care of us from a distance.

Life was way easier in china. I had gotten the chance to know about my culture and where my mother and grandparents were from, but I felt like I didn't belong— America kept calling my soul. I felt like that's where my heart belonged, and where I wanted to live my life.

So I told my mother that I wanted to go back to Los Angeles, and that I wanted to finish my education there. My mom was against it at first, mind you I was only 16 at the time, but I promised her that I would work hard from the start. And to prove it, I worked in china and till I had enough money to pay for the plane ticket to go back to my homeland. My parents realized that I was really serious, a plane ticket from China to America is very expensive. I worked my behind off and that was my mind set from that time on.

I mostly wanted to see my best friend; it had been 4 years since I saw her, and I felt empty without her. She came to visit with her father once in a while, but that wasn't enough, I wanted to see her more often than that. And she always FaceTimed me or called me talking all about the Los Angeles life, it sounded more like the life I wanted to live.

I looked so different from everybody in China and felt so frustrated. I'm Chinese, black, and West Indian born in America. I just thought it wasn't right. I had to go back.

I remember when I set my feet at LAX airport, it felt like … home. The air, the atmosphere, I was finally home.

~~~

Dave

My father is Italian and my mother is black. Unfortunately my father grew his business of drugs, but he always taught me to get my education and kept me away from that life. He decided before I was born to change his life around. He was aware of how it affected him growing up and he didn’t want the same to happen to me. So I was sheltered and encouraged to go to school. But the worst still managed to happen.

I can still remember that day vividly. I was 19 leaving basketball practice. I would usually chill with my dad once or twice a week at work. I liked popping up on him and we’d spend our time with him telling me stories of his past in Italy. He was hilarious so we spent a lot of that time laughing. Even the days that were a little more serious where I was like his intern and he’d teach me how to run our family business, we still cracked jokes. The atmosphere was always light when we were together.

I remember parking my car in the underground parking lot and taking the elevator to the top floor where his office was located. As I was going up I heard a loud noise muffled by the closed elevator. It seemed to be a gunshot. Panic filled my senses and I was imobile as the elevator was about to open on the floor where my father was. Then it hit me. My father might be in trouble. Just as the elevator opened and I stepped out of it, I saw five men walking into the second elevator on this floor. I stood still frightened. As soon as the elevator door was closed and on its way down, I rushed to my father’s office.

I made it to his doorway and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I breathed heavily as I watched the horrifying scene of my now dead father. My life, my world was crushed and nothing was the same.

What did you think of this sneak peek?

I’ve completely rewritten this book 🩷 It was first published 8 years ago and I wanted to give it new life.

I hope you enjoyed this foreview of Reigna. Please share your thoughts in the comments 😩💗

Xoxo,Dgoldenblossom 🌸🩷

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC's Writer of the Month:

Lucy-268

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is CFWC's very own, @lucy-268! We hope you will enjoy learning more about her and her work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: lucy-268 Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

During the COVID quarantine in 2020. I played Bloodbound and Bloodbound 2. Then High School Story. I finally got tired of PB/Choices asking me if I wanted to try Open Heart.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

Because Facebook keeps track of things you search for, it asked me if I wanted to join a Choices group. There was a post about Open Heart fanfics on Tumblr. So I dusted off my old Tumblr account.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

I am a cat person, but Lucy was the best dog ever. She was my Mom’s dog that mom brought with her when I moved here from PA to VA to save me from having to drive back home every other weekend. 

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

I am an introvert. A lot of people around me overwhelm me and I had an aunt who always made comments like, glad you decided to join us. Similar to this post.

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

For choices, since 2020. In a previous life, I wrote Harry Potter fics. I wrote Hinny stories that are still available on fanfiction.net and Livejournal. But with few exceptions I won’t tell anyone the username I used then. 

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

Open Heart.

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

This is the first fic I posted. I had an HC for Charley’s backstory and the brother she was close to, along with some of the brother’s friends. I think I brought the friend back in one other fic. At one point, I thought about bringing him in as an LI for Sienna. I would probably change it.

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I Would Not Change a Thing. It’s personal to me because I know a couple of people who have semi colon tattoos. After I posted the fic, someone who has since left the fandom shared with me that she got the same tattoo that I gave Charley.

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

My first one was well received. The fandom was more robust then, and I felt welcomed into the community.

I think some of my Tobias/Samantha fics are better than others I’ve written, but because of the size of the fandom and the pairing (not Ethan), they aren’t well-read.

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I don’t often write smut, so we can eliminate that. I generally get more ideas for fluff, but I'd hate to not be able to write angst when the mood strikes.

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes, There are a few pieces of Charley, Samantha, and especially Maggie (I even used my grandmother’s name there). Even a little bit of Emma from TNA.

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

The ideas for fics. And dialogue. And time.

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Did you look in my google docs folder? I have about 100 docs in there. Some are saved in files labeled Sunday Six that I need to go through and pull ideas from save fics together. I have three artworks I either commissioned or won that I need to write fics for, including a cat T/S adopted, a winter fic for T/S, and E/C’s wedding.

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

Nope.

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

They aren’t active in the Choices fandom much, but two who were very welcoming to me when I started writing were @openheart12 (who asked to be tagged even though she had never read anything I wrote!) and @anothermansjeans (formerly oofchoices), who did some of my first moodboards. Thank you both for the kindness you showed me.

@jamespotterthefirst - Your fics were some of the first I read, and I was so happy when you started to read my works. You are a true friend, and I feel blessed to have you in my my life.

@jerzwriter -  You are my go-to person when I need someone to talk to. I love your ideas, and I wouldn’t want to run CFWC with anyone else.

@genevievemd - You always find the best David Gandy photos. I admire your dedication to completing two series of Smiles. And did it daily.

@liaromancewriter - You are always willing to help with everything. Your Ethan x Cassie is great, but I love Maxenna. (And I still need to finish your original!)

@potionsprefect - I love Victoria as an MC. I admire how you have developed the personalities of your twins (and I’m jealous that I don’t think I have accomplished that yet.

@bex-la-get - It took me a while to find you, and I miss you now that you are on a hiatus. But I love your bookstagram accounts. I can’t forget to mention your cat videos of Percy and Odin.

@danijimenezv - Thank you for giving me the story idea for I Scream, You Scream. Thank you for sharing your stories of your vet internship.

@writer-ish - You always pop up with just the perfect comment or gif. I just wish you’d do it more often.

@a-crepusculo - Another fellow cat person. One of my favorite fics is your When It Rains. I love the idea of Ethan being free enough to stop and dance in the rain.

@storyofmychoices - Thank you for all you do for the fandom in general. Your writing inspired me to read both Mother of the Year and Save the Date.

@burnsoslow - See the above comment. Your Drake and Alyssa inspired me to read The Royal Romance, at least the first one. I was avoiding it because Choices kept trying to make me read it. I miss wackydrabbles, even though there are plenty of fic prompts around.

I am sure there are so many others I should mention, and I’m sorry for anyone I forgot.

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

I would not change a thing; see question 8 above.

17- Do you write original fiction? 

I have some stories started.

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

Reading, cooking, baking, and playing with my cats.

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

💚😻🤦🏼‍♀️

[lapdogchase]

this is literally exactly what it's like though. like IT HAPPENED TO ME. i used to read books all the time. when i was 7 or 8 i could read thru a 200 page book in a day. i could read 600 pages in a day at 11 or 12. i understood what i was reading. i'd have to move around or listen to music to focus, and it was perfectly common for me to pace around the living room while reading, but that was just the adhd more than anything. and then i started using social media and youtube and i could still read, for sure, but there was a little voice in the back of my head begging me to check my computer to see what was going on. and then i got older and instead of reading books i'd read fanfics, sometimes 80k words, sometimes 800 words. and then i started watching book summary videos instead of reading them at all, and i'd find fics over 30k words hard to finish. and then i couldn't finish school assigned reading at all, ever, and i'd spend the time on social media. and then covid happened and i got into audiobooks for a while and it helped but then the world decided covid was over and my temporary library card wasn't valid anymore and i couldn't get audiobooks anymore. and then i got tiktok and suddenly i was spending 12 hours a day on it and i couldn't write or draw or read or sew or anything. and then even watching a full minute-long tiktok was hard. and then i'd pull up tiktok to watch 5 minute youtube videos. i couldn't even finish book summary tiktoks. like everything needs to be SO FAST all the time and i know part of that was definitely the untreated worsening adhd and the depression etc but when i couldn't even watch 45 minute tv shows while playing a video game and listening to music and would just end up on my phone and when i realized there was a visible dent in my phone screen protector from where i'd scroll on tiktok and when i realized how much of my life i was spending on that fucking app. i finally managed to delete it in january when i got on meds and it's easier now but i still can barely write for 5 minutes without instinctually switching screens to check my notifs here or opening my phone to see if anyone's posted a new instagram story and it's like. exactly this. i hadn't finished a book in years. i just watched summary videos. everything is so fucking fast now

[nimdreams]

This is my long history with dogs and as a dog. I have always called myself strongly dog-hearted even when I didn't call myself a dog therian. After switching between hearted and therian, I have decided to call my dog identity a vaguetype. My identity as a dog is hearted with a sprinkle of therianthropy. This post was originally 1,743 words and took on average 13.4 minutes to read, but has been edited slightly for my tumblr.

Written March 26, 2023 and edited on October 4, 2023.

My connection to dogs started at a very early age. My first word was the name of my babysitter's dog. My parents believe I never bonded with my babysitter, but I was completely focused on her little Maltese. As a young child growing up, I asked all my neighbors to walk their dogs and I asked for a dog or any pet every birthday. I started reading the dog books in the library.

When I was 7 we got our first family dog, a Flat-Coated Retriever. He was my little brother and a good friend. I remember learning so much from him, copying his behavior and acting more and more like a dog myself. I remember when he was a little older, we went to a Flat-Coated day and I was standing with my dog plushie surrounded by Flat-Coats and I just wished I was a dog amongst them. I wanted them to recognize me as one of them, play with them as a dog. This is the first memory I have of wanting to be a dog physically.

When I was around 9 years old is when I came across the Elfquest comics. This is when I awakened as an elf, an identity I no longer hold and is now an anteatype. The only reason why I identified as an elf is because these elves were half wolves, they had wolfblood and wolves recognized them as one of their own, the way I wanted to be recognized by dogs. I had a big collection of plushies, but the ones most dear to me and that I mostly played with were dog plushies. I could act like I was a dog too with them, or could pretend the plushies were my puppies. Even though I acted like a dog, wanted to be recognized as a dog, and considered dogs my kin, I didn't consciously identify as/with one.

As time went on, I kept asking for my own dog. I had finished all the library books on dogs. When I was 14 I finally got my wish and we rehomed another Flat-Coated Retriever. She was supposed to be mine, but she never got over her first family abandoning her. Though she was like a sister, she always kept herself apart from our family. I remember trying to act like a dog and get her to like me. Show her I was of her kind and that she could befriend me. It hurt me a lot to be rejected by her. This is also around the age where I was supposed to be getting older and play acting like a dog wasn't okay anymore so I stopped acting as a dog, even though I only ever did privately.

Then I was 18, going to turn 19 and moving away from home to go to college. I just couldn't do it without a dog as companion and since I didn't want to disrupt the life of my Flat-Coat, I decided to get a puppy of a small breed. This is when my first dogson, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, came into my life. He was my everything. I was fully responsible for him by myself and raised him and mothered him. I fully felt like a dogmom, like I was a dog too and he was my own. He and I had the most special and deep bond. He was only with me for 8 years. For his breed is known as the most sick breed, if they survive as a puppy they usually die at a young age of heart failure. This breed is seriously the most kind and soft hearted breed you will ever find. They don't deserve the suffering they go through. My Cavalier was my world, my life, my everything. During the hardest times of my life he was there to encourage me to keep going. His love taught me what true love is.

I don't know why I kept switching between therian and hearted. Calling myself a dog therian felt good and like I was more myself. I knew that if I left the community, my dogness would remain and my connection to dogs would remain. My history with dogs, what they have always meant to me and how I feel partly like one of them. That is a true part of myself. I guess part of me didn't really feel bothered with the label, /because/ of what dogs mean to me in my life. A label doesn't matter or change that. I now feel happy labeling it a vaguetype. I finally feel like I won't keep switching around anymore.

Skip forward to me joining the community in April, 2018. My first dogson had already passed away. I was questioning my theriotype and possible kintype, but as soon as I learned about hearted, I called myself dog-hearted. It was super clear to me that I had such a bond with dogs. Sometimes I'd question if it was my theriotype, but I always dismissed it as I "didn't see myself as a dog". Even though I had the experiences of a dog therian, like wanting to interact with dogs as a dog or wanting my own litter of puppies instead of human offspring.

28 January 2020 I confirmed being a Chinese Crested dog therian. I had been questioning if I was a dog therian and looking at different breeds and the Crestie just "clicked" for me. After a while I went back to dog-hearted and would go back and forth between that and Crestie therian. Until 7 October 2021, when I had my first strong and clear envisage shift of what I looked like as a dog. I could not find a breed matching it however so from this moment on whenever I called myself a dog therian I was flip-flopping between a Chinese Crested and trying to find the breed matching this envisage shift. As time went on and I got more shifts, I felt more and more that the way I looked in that envisage shift is who I truly am and that I was not a Crestie.

Monday 20 March 2023, on this day I was looking at breeds again. Trying to find a match for my envisage shift, my appearance as a dog. At this point I thought I was a mutt or mixed breeds as I just couldn't find dogs that looked like me, but then I found the Silken Windsprite and it fit me perfectly. A red fawn colored Silken Windsprite is what I saw myself as. It was different from the "click" I had with Chinese Crested dogs. I was already in my 30s when I first had a good clear idea of what I look like as a dog, though I did always have that click with dogs with blond fur. After identifying as a Windsprite I went back to dog-hearted and eventually settled with Golden Retriever, because of those same plushies I loved since I was a child. My main puppy plushie was a golden and I have heavily imprinted on golden puppies as being what I would have as my own. You can read more about this in my post on breeds. I am of the belief that it's completely okay to figure yourself out along the way. Crestie is what I understood at first, but with time I learned more.

Sorry this was such a long one, I didn't plan anything for this post; I just wrote what came to mind as I went along. If you read this whole thing, thank you so much and I hope it was of interest or help to you!

Six years ago, my husband (then boyfriend) and I, after losing my first dogson, were looking to be a new home for an adult dog. This is when my second dogson came into my life. He is a Bolonka Zwetna, a small breed. Though he is my son, I miss having had him as a puppy when I could've really been a dogmom and have a space for my motherhood feelings. I love him deeply and dearly, though our connection is not like my first dogson. It doesn't have to be, he is his own little person and we have our own bond.

My health isn't as bad as it was a few years ago. My husband had to take care of me for a long time, and having a dog was in reality a little bit too much for us. I am doing a lot better now and am able to walk our dogson. Our love for our him leads us to push ourselves to give him the best care and life.

[beneath-the-irish-sky]

May 25th - 27th

Hi! Welcome to my blog! I am so excited to share what I have been up to in Ireland. I will format this page by sharing what I have had the opportunity to experience every day and then telling you which picture correlates with the story. I will be posting every few days or so for the next month!

My journey started on May 25th when I finally finished packing for this trip. It was a long process to figure out what I wanted to bring and what I could buy while abroad. I watched a few YouTube videos on others who have taken a similar trip. I decided to bring things like shampoo, conditioner, lotion, and medicine because they have different brands in Ireland. I also checked the weather and made sure to bring an umbrella, raincoat and a few jackets. Because of this, my bag was a little heavy and I had to move things around to my carry-on, making this process longer than I anticipated. In total, I brought a very full checked bag (50lbs exactly), a half-empty backpack, and a half-empty duffle bag. We were advised to leave some room in our luggage to fill with souvenirs or clothes!

My flight was scheduled to depart at 7:30 a.m. on May 26th, so I had to wake up around 4 a.m. with just 3 hours of sleep behind me. for the airport since we live about an hour away. The check-in process at the airport counter wasn’t too long. I made sure to pack my important papers (passport and IDs) where I could easily access them. I was lucky enough to have my mom and boyfriend drop me off at security and say goodbye. That helped ease the anxiety I was feeling a little. Goodbyes are bittersweet even if temporary. I finished up the Clear Security process and ventured through security where I met another girl going on the trip. We all wore NAU T-shirts to ensure we could find each other easily, and it was so worth it! We met up with our teacher and the majority of our group at the gate. Some girls decided to fly in later from other destinations. We eventually boarded the first leg of the flight and were on our way to Philadelphia (picture 1). We then had a three-hour layover before flying to Dublin. During my layover, I got food, talked more with my peers on the trip, and called my friends and family. We then began our final leg into Dublin (picture 2). I mostly slept on the plane, but when I wasn't, I was watching movies I had downloaded or colored in a book I had brought. I was too tired to read.

Once we landed, it was 5:30 a.m. on May 27th, Dublin time. We immediately proceeded to customs to get our passports stamped (picture 3) and had to wait a very long time afterwards in baggage claim. We then waited with our bags for another hour to meet two other girls who had later flights. Later, we hopped on a bus to our destination for the next month, University College Dublin! It was about 9 a.m. once we got checked in and got to our rooms. A long two days indeed. We have a kitchen (picture 4), a lounge (picture 5), and a combination of the two at the ends of long hallways (picture 6). In the middle of those are our individual living quarters (picture 7 & 8). The rooms are very nice even if they are a tad small but suitable for one person. The bathroom, however, is a little scary. It has a shower with no walls around it. It is very easy to flood the floor of your bathroom. The first thing I did when I got into my room was unpack and hang up my clothes. Hangers were not provided, but I had purchased travel hangers in advance. Afterwards, I showered and took a nap until about 3 p.m. We decided as a group to meet for dinner and explore Dublin. We also wanted to stop at a connivence store to buy things like hand soap, trash bags, water and snacks. We took the bus on campus (picture 9) into Dublin City Center. From there, we walked through a beautiful park that had the cutest dogs everywhere (picture 10, 11, & 12). Many people were soaking in the sun because it was a very warm day! We continued walking through the city past many cool buildings with gorgeous architecture (picture 13, 14, & 15). We settled on a pub nearby once we got tired of walking in the heat (picture 16). After dinner, we ventured over to the connivence store. It was so surprising the differences in prices here versus America. For instance, a 2 liter of water here was $.89 Euros and I ended up only spending 20 Euros for all of my groceries and paper goods! We then took a bus back to campus and made it just in time to watch the sun set (picture 17)!

I am so excited to be here! It is so beautiful here and Dublin has the most welcoming aura. It feels welcoming and open, and it is one of the main reasons I chose Dublin. I have heard stories about how people fall in love with this city, and I understand them now! I cannot wait to explore more over the next few weeks. I am also looking forward to seeing more of the countryside and looking for that four leaf clover.

Thank you again for reading! I am so excited to share what's next on my trip!

[thepapernautilus]

naut's book reviews 2023!

so i have read around 50 books this year! (the answer according to my storygraph is 45 books but listen i've done a lot of rereading and i want that to mean something so we're rounding up). here's my top nine!

not that i think anyone will argue with me but: this is just my highly subjective opinon! take this with the same grain of salt as a fic rec list, it's just what i've been enjoying this year!

1.) pretend to act surprised, it is The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir! honestly Gideon The Ninth, Harrow the Ninth, and Nona the Ninth are all competing for #1. i've reread them each in every format possible on multiple occasions. i've been in a permanent book hangover since i read it. this book. this book!!!!! it didn't feel so much as "right time right place" as a semi-truck to my frontal lobe. i had GtN on my bookshelf for MONTHS before reading and i wish i'd picked it up first. HtN and NtN just fundamentally changed my brain chemistry.

2.) The Hurricane Wars by Thea Guanzon. she's here for one reason only and that's because i got to watch my favorite fanfic author get a book deal so i'm going to be really annoying about it. this is the bar for reylo-coded enemies-to-lovers that all romantasy will be judged by.

3.) Ninth House / Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo. she was the reigning queen of the summer. ninth house and hell bent were so refreshing, especially after i'd read the shadow & bone series (spoilers: not my favorites!). absolutely obsessed. paired immaculately well with the new Sleep Token album.

4.) A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson. this book absolutely delivers on exactly what it is! thank you for my life!

5.) Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson. has a book ever had such phenomenal vibes. i really don't think so.

6.) there's a lot to be argued with "fanfiction doesn't count as reading a book" but if any piece of fanwork has transcended that barrier, it's Manacled by SenLinYu and this was the year i finally read it. i'm simply not the same person i was before i read this ! i am haunted !!!!!!!!!!

7.) Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson. i'm really loving these smaller books he's doing because i love this man's writing but i've tried to reread the stormlight archives like three times so i can catch up. this was a delight. the endpapers made me weepy which is a weird flex for a book???

8.) The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin. this snapped me out of my post-tlt hangover! reading this was a delicious fucking meal. i haven't finished the trilogy yet but this one was so, so, so good.

9.) Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J. Maas. okay. listen. i decided to read every single book this woman has written. statistically one of them had to be good. it's hard for a seven book fantasy series to stick the landing but i'd argue she did it, i cried on my bedroom floor for an hour.

i've had so much fun reading this year 😭😭😭 i have so many books on my TBR i'm trying to get to.... and so many good ones!!! currently reading What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher and i'm already having a massively great time.

maybe i will talk about the bottom of the barrel from this year 😭 i'm officially breaking up with romantasy as a genre, if i see another book called "x of y and z" i will throw up !!!!

if you read all this please feel free to drop any recs 💕

[authoralexharvey]

ASMLP Accountability - Update 7

Intro || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

Right now I feel like this gif:

I got incredibly busy with the introduction of IWAW so I have been writing less overall and I keep forgetting to make this post. ANYWAY, finally have another update. I went back to chapter 9 and finished it up for good. I've been pecking at chapters 12 and 14, which are,,,, half-done but had to move on from to keep my rhythm. Last night, I finished chapter 15. Am I happy with it? Ehhhh. But it's done for now and that's what counts.

By the way, did you know you can read this book right now? The current draft of it, anyway. Three websites, three ways to read. We’re up to chapter 7, with chapter 8 coming next Wednesday. Unless you feel like subbing to my Patreon, in which case you can read chapter 8 right now. Check it out?

Wattpad || Royal Road || ScribbleHub

With that out of the way, the stats.

Chapters Done: 16/22

Current Chapter: 16 (Nadia's)

Excerpt:

“Simone, I can’t let us continue to have a relationship.”

Her haggard reflection stares back at her, brows furrowed in concentration. She tries to see beyond herself, to envision Simone standing in front of her, but can only get the image to settle for seconds at a time before it ripples and fades.

She’s practiced this conversation for hours. Ever since she returned home for the day. Simone had attempted to coax her into coming over, eager to put her through another rigorous study session, but she didn’t have the stomach to see them today. Not after everything she’d learned.

“You’re a monster,” she whispers to her reflection. “If not in body, then in spirit. A monstrous mess.”

Her reflection frowns in response. It has the gall to even look… hurt by her words. How can you deface yourself? it asks her. How can you go on pretending we are not the same?

With a final, frustrated growl, Nadia spins on her heel and stalks out of the bathroom.

She has to distance herself from Simone. She has to. Hallucination or not—and she’s less and less certain what she saw was a figment of her imagination—she poses a danger to herself and the people around her. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she caused Simone harm.

If only she could get the words out.

ASMLP Taglist (Ask to be added): @magic-is-something-we-create , @wildswrites , @chishiio , @westcountrygothic , @writeblrsupport , @original-writing @artcoffeecats , @kingsinking , @comicgoblinart , @asterhaze , @linaket