#here's part one of my contribution to this wonderful event

[ptieuca]

iwryfanficmarathon's 20th anniversary

bangel + locations ↳ buffy's house

[reidmotif]

I’ve Got My Eye On You

Summary: Reader is a Special Surveillance agent assigned to spy on Spencer. He manages to see through her cover, and thoroughly enjoys the confrontation that follows.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, f!masturbation, slight dubcon regarding recorded sex, heavily based on that one scene in scandal, iykyk.

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

I’d always been good at watching people. 

My life had been spent mostly to myself, divulging the information people offered without even realizing. When you talk less, you learn that body language, passing remarks, or even the quirk of an eyebrow gives away more than anyone ever realized– maybe more than an actual conversation at times. 

And I took it all in stride, not a single detail left unanalyzed. People were always surprised when I’d mention my observations, finding a way to explain a seemingly unexplainable situation, those around me wondering how on Earth I could’ve been privy to that. I’d always shrug at their queries. 

Pay more attention, I guess. 

It wasn’t a surprise that I’d ended up here, I suppose, in the end, as an Investigative Specialist for the FBI. I doubt that my listening skills were exactly what landed me the job, but I’d like to believe they contributed more than they actually did. Regardless, I’d never expected the result of the decisions I’d made over the years to lead to this– involved in spying on an agent of our own. 

The infamous "Dr Reid".

His specific circumstances had been shrouded in secrecy and mystery, apparently having just been let out of prison. (Prison? How’s he an agent then? Anyway, not my problem).

 The Bureau had been curious about erratic behavior on his part, and the string of discrepancies involving the unit he was involved in. Apparently, there had been multiple unforeseen and unprecedented events all occurring under the same team in a relatively small time-frame, and despite smaller investigations, nothing came out of them to warrant any real disciplinary action.  Probably why they brought me in, in the hopes of changing that. 

I’d been assigned to put up small, virtually undetectable cameras and listening devices within his apartment. 24/7 home surveillance, no exceptions. I couldn’t help but think that the guy really should invest in better apartment security, despite how easy his naivete made my job. His lack of caution surprised me, given the details I’d been given. For a guy who had a penchant for being framed by the ghosts of his past, he sure didn’t live like it.  Even as an FBI agent, he essentially had no technology to counter my own, and the height of his protection was a standard deadbolt. Was he insane? Unaware, somehow? Only time would tell, I suppose. And I had plenty of that, to watch and deduce the nature of his mind on my own terms. 

My time spent with Spencer resulted in one, overwhelming conclusion. Spencer Reid lived a relatively quiet life. His apartment was barely used, honestly, given the sporadic nature of his job. (Which was a shame, in my opinion, because it’s a nice apartment).  When he was at home, he seemed to remain quite unassuming. The positions I’d see him assume often were that of being hunched over on an aging leather sofa, pouring himself into grading papers, or creating lesson plans for his students. Oh, right. Did I mention he was also a professor? He is. I’d assume he likes the job, given how much of himself he gives into it, or maybe that was just who he was as a person. I wasn’t sure yet. 

I monitored his life outside of the apartment occasionally as well, just to see what intel I could gather with further investigation. There wasn’t much. Coffee shops. Book shops. Coffee. Books. Coffee- God, does the guy do anything else with his life? 

Most days, though, I’d liken him to butter spread too thinly over toast. Sleepless from nightmares that would have him walking around his apartment until daylight broke through the window panes. I felt exhausted just watching the guy, and it seemed insane that he could continue to live on when he left that apartment at the break of dawn. It didn’t seem like he had anyone to talk to, honestly. From what I was seeing, he wasn’t a threat to the Bureau, just a sad, middle-aged man who’d been dealt the most unfair of hands in life. 

I’m sure there’s a moral somewhere in all that. To waste your potential on something that gives so little back. Oh, well. My report was nearly finished at this point, and the most I could recommend the higher-ups was to get Spencer a better therapist, maybe. This one wasn’t really helping, it seemed. Besides that, his personal behavior wasn’t indicative of anything worrying to the interests of those managing him. 

At long last, it was my final night of watching him. Coincidentally, the date lined up with Halloween, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally be free of this specific survey job. Don’t get me wrong, Spencer seemed nice- but God, his life was boring. I don’t want to say it was like watching paint dry,  out of respect, but previous targets had offered at least some part of their life to be interested within. Spencer had nothing. No friends over, no gossip-like phone conversations, no drunk wanderings home. Nothing! I know he didn’t sign up to be watched, but God. 

Like, come on. Give me anything here. 

Needless to say, I’d become accustomed to the quiet, and this night was no different. If he was following schedule, he should be home right about … now. 

Now? 

Now… 

Silence. 

Spencer was definitely a creature of habit, so to not see him adhere to the routine he’d so meticulously stuck to in the past was a bit jarring, but I assumed he was just running late. 

A few hours later, I reasoned he must be running really really late. It was bordering on midnight, and he still wasn’t home. I checked train schedules, possible reports of a car crash, just about anything that could keep him from his scheduled appearance at home. 

I was just about to call my supervisor to look into whether or not he’d been called out on a surprise case, but that’s when the door of his apartment creaked open, and I felt my shoulders deflate in relief. Okay, he was home. He was going to go to bed and- 

He wasn’t alone. 

Spencer was dressed in all black, a leather belt adorned with a gold belt buckle being the only color his outfit brought. He wore tiny devil’s ears upon his head, the headband pushing down on the mop of curls that sat atop his head. He looked absolutely delicious, if I must say myself, and it seemed the woman in his arms would agree with me. 

He practically pulled her into his apartment, kicking his door in with his leg before slightly fumbling with the lock. As soon as the mechanism slipped into place, his hands were all over her, pressing her flush against his body, as if he couldn’t bear to have any space between them. 

For all the time I’d been watching him, none of his behavior indicated the presence of any kind of significant other, so this girl must be a stranger. If this is how Spencer treated strangers though, I was surprised he didn’t have a barrage of women lining up at his door every night. 

His lips absolutely devoured the girl, his hand cradling the side of her face, before his thigh slipped in between her legs, possibly to soothe a building ache that had built up there in the time they’d spent together, which I found entirely possible, considering I, personally, was heated from simply watching. 

I watched the pixels on the screen with such precision, innocuous shades of red, green and blue painting the most sinful of images. I found myself noting the way his hand snuck up the girls’ dress, the way her breathing hitched as she pulled back, watching as Spencer presumably played with her clit. I could feel myself squeezing my thighs together, recognizing just how wrong it was to be turned on by the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t as if this was the first time a target had behaved sexually in front of me. (Or in front of the camera, I suppose.) I’d seen and heard just about anything you could think of, but this was different- in a way. To see Spencer so filthy, so confident, so- interesting. It lit a fire in me that burned with every passing moment he touched this girl. 

I’m able to watch him circle over her panties in a way that has her groaning directly into his ear, a smug grin plastering his face as he watches her every reaction. 

“Like that?” He murmurs, and I’ve never heard his voice so fucking deep.

She nods frantically, and it only serves to widen his grin. I can feel myself rocking slightly in my own chair, doing anything to try and soothe the fast growing arousal within me, unable to stop from imagining myself in her place. His hands, the feel of hot breath down my neck- 

I’m stopped dead in my tracks, however, when his eyes suddenly shift to the camera closest to him, his eyebrow raising, as if in challenge. He continues to whisper in the girl’s ear, and has the galls to wink. I’m horrified, a very sudden and intense heat rising to my cheeks. I can only watch for a second more, before he’s suddenly pulling her away, and I realize he’s taken her  within one of the only blind spots within the apartment. 

I’m scrambling to turn off the feed, stunned into silence whilst, my heart beating uncontrollably and eccentrically. Oh god. He knew. He knew and he did that?! 

I stare into the empty space, a multitude of thoughts inhabiting my brainscape. On one hand, the aplomb shown in that situation was commendable, since most people would react to the knowledge that they’d been secretly watched in their own home for the past few months in a much more hostile way. On the other hand, how did he even acquire that knowledge? The cameras were virtually undetectable, and he’d never let on that he was aware of their presence, and I’d know, considering how closely I’d watched him. 

I shake off the thoughts, focusing on something other than the overwhelming mortification coursing through me now.  

Alright, tomorrow, get into his apartment, remove the cameras, and hopefully never have to look at the man again. In any capacity, honestly. 

When daylight broke, I turned on the cameras for the final time, a bit more sheepish, knowing he was aware of the devices plaguing his home. However, it seemed like he was once again pretending like he wasn’t aware of the looming existence of them, sending his female companion off her merry way once they woke up, before going about his normal routine, heading out of the apartment for what was most likely his morning coffee and then afternoon lecture at the university. 

That was my cue. I turned off the cameras,  quickly making my way out to sneak into his residence, the heavy door offering little resistance to my advances, my movements quiet and undetectable. 

I’m  in the process of removing the final camera I had placed in his bedroom, hidden behind a copy of  The Sign of Four. Doyle. He had good taste, I could give him that. 

I’m just about to turn around and get the hell out of there, when I hear a voice behind me. 

“I noticed that one first, you know.”

I turn around slowly, embarrassed and slightly fearful to find Spencer’s eyes meeting mine. I’d watched him for so long, but seeing him now– his eyes were so beautiful. The camera didn’t do him justice.

He continues, despite the silence. “The other ones were harder to spot, I’ll give you that, but once I knew where they were, it was a bit obvious, don’t you think?” 

I’m speechless. My mouth is agape, and all he seems to do is smile at my lack of prose. 

“Don’t look so surprised. I know this apartment. I’m not here a lot, but I spend enough time to know when things have been shifted around.” His tone is cheeky, and he pauses, almost theatrically to add on:

“I’m sure you knew that though.”  His smile turns into more of a smirk. 

God, did he have to be so hot?

“Are you going to complain to the Bureau?” I manage out, keeping my eyes steady on him. 

“Did you find anything of note to tell them?” He responds, tilting his head with curiosity. 

I shake my head vehemently. “No, um. Nothing pertinent to say.” I get my words out in a hurry, my gaze continually trained on him. 

He meets my eyes with the same stare. “Then I don’t have much of a reason to complain.” 

I nod solemnly. I’m wondering where this situation will lead- what either of our next moves are. Before I can ponder long though, he surprises me and takes a step closer.

“I saw you, you know.” He says. “Thought I was going insane when the same pretty girl kept showing up at the bookstore and coffee shop out of the blue, but I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.” 

“Oh.” I whisper. I really wasn’t as good as I thought I was. 

“You really shouldn’t beat yourself up.” He says, chuckling with some mirth. “Again, I’m observant. I notice these things. That, and you’re pretty.” He says, forward. “So, more of a reason to notice.” 

“Oh.” I reply, yet again, dumbfounded by the events currently transpiring. 

“Yes, oh.” He chuckles, before he starts to move closer yet again. “Tell me. Were you watching last night?” He murmurs, his voice dropping a bit deeper as he directly addresses the elephant in the room. 

I give a movement of affirmation, because at this point, what could he do? What could I do? 

“So you saw.” He mumbles, moving to position himself right in front of me, his eyes darkened and laser focused on my figure. 

“Yes.” I whisper, my voice hushed as our proximity decreased, his breath fanning out over my face now. I’d be uncomfortable, if I wasn’t so distracted. 

“Tell me.” He whispers, letting his calloused finger finally touch my skin, running down my neck. “Did it turn you on? Watching me with her?” 

I feel the familiar heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, my eyes suddenly widening not only due to the sudden proximity, but also the scandalous nature of his words. Did he mean for me to watch? Was that his plan all along? What was this sick and twisted game he was playing?

“Did it.. get you off?” He whispers, his lips leaning in to kiss lightly at the side of my neck where his finger once was. 

I freeze, leaning into his touch and going statue-like all at once. I can’t help the shakiness of my voice when I reply. “I.. wasn’t neutral.” 

“Mm.” He murmurs, kissing now at my jawline. “Did you get off? When she did?” He whispers.

“I didn’t watch that long.” I reply, helplessly, as I feel his hands start to envelop my waist, pulling me closer to him. 

“What a shame.” He mumbles. “I think you would’ve liked the show. I did it for you.” 

At this point, I can barely speak, a slight moan escaping me instead of a coherent reply as his lips continue to leave warm, wet kisses on the expanse of my flesh. 

“I’m sure you’re curious.” He says, his voice soft and seductive. “Would you like me to show you what we did?”

There’s no hesitation, finally, a resounding thought I can translate from brain-to-mouth for him, in complete certainty.

“Yes.” I manage out, breathlessly. 

He makes a noise of satisfaction, quickly pushing me onto the bed. 

“I’d already gotten her wet by touching her before, but if my suspicions are correct.” He murmurs, his hands working deftly to undo my jeans and feel the wetness that had accumulated in between my thighs. “You already are.” He finishes. 

I let out a small whimper as his fingers touch the heated flesh, unable to help my sensitivity to his small, calculated strokes over my clit through my underwear. His fingers starts to move a bit more aggressively, upon feeling the wet patch that had formed there, the flimsy fabric doing little to hide the stickiness he was now collecting on his fingers. He quickly pulls them off as well though, bringing his slightly damp fingers to his mouth, tasting the hint of my arousal that had accumulated there. His eyes were dark, watching my face for any reaction, and in that moment, I know all he can see is pure want. 

I can see the same hunger within his eyes, and I feel a rush of pride as the approval radiates off of him. 

“What next?” I whisper, already desperate for his next slew of ministrations. I don’t care how needy I looked. I was needy. I’d spent so long watching him, and now he was here.

“She wanted my mouth.” He murmurs, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His thumb brushes over my clit, his tongue running against plump, pink lips, wetting them, watching over me with a predatory gaze. 

Before I can respond, he’s suddenly everywhere, ducking his head and allowing his tongue to brush over my sex in broad, wet strokes. My response is immediate, my hips bucking up to meet him in a frenzied motion. It seems that he relishes in whatever control he can have in this situation, because he quickly holds down my hips in a firm grip, squeezing the fat there while he continued to ravage me. 

I can barely look at him, pretty brown locks splayed in his face, his lips moving hypnotically against my cunt. Little whimpers escape me, absolutely aching for more. He seems to catch on, and flicks his tongue over me, before suckling against my clit. It’s wet, messy, and the picture of debauchery– and it’s enough to drive me over the edge, my hands gripping the sheets as I cry out his name. 

He seems to be unaffected, getting off his knees, his mouth glistening with my release. The sight makes me wish he could do it again, but before I can get a word in, he’s positioning himself over me, caging me against the bed. 

“Then I fucked her.” He whispers, starting to undo his belt with his free hand. “Can I?” 

I nod, feeling a wave of anticipation, before registering the sensation of the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I feel my chest tighten, watching him with bated breath, absolutely exhilarated. 

“Relax.” He whispers, kissing the lobe of my ear. “You’re in good hands.” 

He utters the last word, before sliding into me, a hushed gasp leaving the both of us. He groans in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the feel of my warm, wet cunt around him. He takes a moment, before he’s setting a steady pace, his hips bucking rhythmically into me in a way that’s designed to bring us both so much pleasure. 

I can’t help the string of moans that come out with every slide of his cock inside me, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer than he already is. My hands grip onto his shirt, clawing onto the fabric to find any purchase, wanting– no, needing him on me. 

Is it odd to wish a stranger could crawl into your skin itself? 

“Fuck, Spencer.” I moan, unabashedly. “You feel so good.”

“You do too.” He groans, his arms braced on either side of my head before gently lowering himself to crash his lips against mine in a messy kiss. 

I can feel myself barreling towards release, as is he, if the twitch of his cock inside me were to mean anything. It’s not long before his hand reaches in between where our bodies are met, rubbing my clit in fast, small circles. It’s intense in the best way possible, my body barely being able to process how good it felt in the moment. 

“Come for me.” He moans, in between kisses. “Wanna feel you around me. Please.”

I can’t help but obey his words, my cunt convulsing around him in obedience as he subsequently finds his release inside me, groaning loudly as his hips thrust erratically. 

He pulls out, and we’re a tangle of limbs, sweaty and sated, breathing heavy. 

Of course, it’s him, yet again, to break the silence. 

“Two things.” He mumbles, breathlessly. 

“Mm.” I reply, weakly, my head a mess of airiness and complacency after the orgasm he’d just brought me to. 

“One. I want your name.” He says, rolling to his side to get a better look at my face. 

“That can be arranged.” I murmur, nodding dreamily. 

“Second.” He whispers, kissing my cheek. His voice takes on a teasing quality to it, before leaning to brush his lips against my ear.  

“You missed a camera. Behind the plant. They don’t stop recording, do they?” 

okay wowww. clearly this was meant for halloween, if you couldn't tell! this is one of those pieces where i'm like.. hmm .. do i like this? question mark? do i want to put it out? hmm .. but regardless, i hope you guys enjoyed it!! please, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!!! it is sooo important as an author that i get some feedback and know what you guys think, in any capacity. i truly appreciate all of it <33 thank you for reading, thank you for everything!!!

[love-anddeepression]

Magic

Moon Boys x reader&lt;3

summary: you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?

A/N: okay the timeline is a bit wonky but here's what i thought while writing the fic. Jake dated you for a year and a half before putting a ring on it. And you've been married for three years. You met Steven and Marc a year ago and have been dating Steven for eight months. Marc became friends with you a month after meeting you. please comment and reblog if you liked it!

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

@jake-g-lockley

Marc was a lot of things. Pig-headed, stubborn, horrible at communication, a fighter. But he wasn't arrogant He could admit it when he didn't know something.

But right now he knew one thing and one thing only, that Jake was a prime idiot.

Marc stayed in the background when Jake was fronting around you, most of the time. Not always, of course. He wasn't a perv and one to to intrude between a husband and a wife. But he knew you. So did Steven, and you knew them.

He'd considered you his friend. Maybe one of his best, just months after meeting you. You and him shared many a night after Jake's missions talking and watching movies, when your husband was knocked out. You made him fall in love with chai, something that knocked Steven's socks off and he'd taught you the basics of baseball so you weren't clueless when you watched baseball with him.

It wasn't always so nice.

"You're married?!"

"Yeah, what's your problem with that?" Jake had become defensive, he wouldn't let Marc or Steven breathe a single ill word towards you.

"No, it's no problem at all, pal." Marc seethed, outraged, "except for the fact that I was married to Layla! God what if she almost say you when we were married? No wonder it ended!"

"Fuck off, man. You know full well why your marriage didn't work out with Layla. And unlike her, I told my lady fucking everything. She knows everything, from the cave to the sarcophagus. So she knew what to do and what to be careful of, including you. So don't blame my marriage for the reason yours didn't work out."

This was when Steven had interjected, he was unsurprisingly on Jake's side.

"He's right, Marc. If his wife knows everything then you can't blame him, and it's honestly rather mean and unfair of you to be angry at someone you haven't even met."

It took a few hours for Marc to calm down, and actually, apologise to Jake.

Hesitantly, Jake offered, "Y'know, if you want you can meet her. She practically knows everything about you and uh, Steven's most probably seen her around. She goes to the museum every week."

"Wait a minute! That lady with the Van Gogh tote bag?"

"Yup."

"Oh wow! She's really sweet, and beautiful! Hell, mate. You scored."

Jake had to smile at that, he knew he scored with you. For the longest time he felt like you were too good for him and that someone as kind, clever, intelligent and beautiful as you shouldn't have had to settle for someone like him. But you'd kiss away every ill thought he had about himself and reassure him. Communication was a very, very vital and important part of the relationship and you had helped him learn that it wasn't selfish to voice his thoughts. Especially because he put everyone's needs before his for so long.

"I know, man."

Steven had readily agreed to front and meet you, and Marc was okay with being co-conscious during the interaction as well. So on one fine day, Jake had brought them to the house he considered his home. He worked to contribute to it's rent, and buy things for it and for you. It was home, after all. You were his home.

Marc didn't know what to expect but when Jake had stepped in and hung his jacket on the stand and taken his shoes off, footsteps could be heard running from the main bedroom and he saw you running straight into Jake's arms. Jake laughed wildly, picking you up and twirling you around, much to your delight as you kissed the life out of him.

When he put you down, he could get a clear glimpse of you. Your hair was messy and your t-shirt was rumpled. And when he saw you smile he knew why Jake had fallen in love with you. Why Steven thought you were beautiful and sweet. Verything about you screamed, home.

Your greeting to Jake threw both the boys off, "Who the fuck are you?"

Jake smirked, "The fuck you mean, ma?"

"I mean, who." you poked him once, "are." twice, "you?" thrice and Jake started giggling. Fucking giggling like some little schoolgirl. You laughed too, and hugged him tight.

"Hey, baby." he kissed your forehead and you smiled.

"Hi." you kissed his nose.

"I have two guys who'd like to meet you."he raised his eyebrows.

Your jaw dropped a little, "For real? Wait, you're being serious, you're not screwing with me?"

"Why would I screw with you, when I could just screw you?"

The men in his head and you all let out a simultaneous groan.

Steven met you first, and it went swell, you'd both bonded over history and literature. And a love for Taylor Swift. But that was a secret. You liked him a lot and he positively adored you.

Marc, on the other hand, was much more closed off, he'd be polite, but he'd be curt as well. A combination you didn't know was possible.

After a few weeks of trying to bond with him, resulting in almost a small meltdown. It had taken Jake being knocked out after a mission and being too tired to eat to actually get him to talk to you over a meal.

It was one of the best things he'd eaten in his goddamn life and the groan he'd let out after the first bite brought a laugh out of you.

So yes, Marc would consider you one of his best friends. Steven and you had started going out with each other a few months ago and it was going so well.

But not Marc.

Because he didn't like you like that.

Of course not, you were his friend.

You were his friend who made him laugh because you had the same dark sense of humour. You hugged him when he needed one but was too uptight to ask you. You, who googled the Cubs and learnt everything you could about them just so you could talk to him as well, the way you talked to Steven about Jane Austen and the Indus Valley.

He didn't know when it became something more to him.

And he didn't see how you'd look him at him when he laughed, or when he was focused on the TV, or when he made you tea the way you liked it, Jake had taught him how to do that.

No, to him, you were just his best friend.

And you were currently crying your eyes out because Jake and you had gotten into a huge fight. He'd missed your anniversary because of a mission and he was working with Hathor's avatar. He failed to mention the part where he was forced to pretend they were a thing to prevent being caught and you'd caught him smelling of her perfume and gotten rightfully furious.

Not because of her, but because he didn't tell you that it had been happening for a few days. That the week he'd spent away from you, he'd had to pretend he was someone else's and he was too scared to tell you. That's why you were mad, because you thought he didn't trust you.

You'd raised your voice as he turned his back on you and he turned around, face contorted in rage. Steven tried calming him down as he stalked over to you. You stood your ground, Jake would never lay a hand on you. You knew that. But it was what he said, that broke you.

"You're being a fucking nuisance. Instead of trying to understand, you're being more of a burden by finding shit to get mad at. Grow the fuck up."

That prime ass had the audacity to call you a burden. A nuisance.

And then he had the fucking nerve to leave and complete his mission and give control to Marc. Steven had chewed the fuck out of him and Marc would have loved to as well, but he needed to see you. See if you were okay.

As soon as he stepped in, he saw you on the sofa, rapidly wiping your tears away. You sagged again when you knew it was him. Somehow you always knew.

He furrowed his eyebrows at your disheveled state. Your eyes were swollen and wet with tears and you were breathing very heavily and in quick spurts.

"What do you need?" Marc asked you, sitting down beside you.

"C-can I have" you coughed, "a hug, Marc?" you said in a small voice, looking away.

Marc immediately moved to hug you close. Shushing you when you began to cry again.

What hurt was that he knew, and Jake knew, and Steven knew that you hated being a burden or an inconvenience to anyone. And today, the one man you trusted the most in this world had made you feel like that. And he couldn't even apologize.

'Jake you fucking idiot.' he rocked you a little, 'you better come out and fix this. she may be our friend but this is because of you, fix this.'

Jake remained silent in the reflection of the mirror next to the door. He looked wrecked at seeing you sob, and tears were falling down his own eyes.

'Mate.' Steven spoke up, he sounded mad, 'You made our girl cry. Stop being a fucking coward and fix this!'

When he was met with silence, Steven seethed, 'Marc, gimme the body.'

You knew exactly when it was Steven hugging you, and you kissed his cheek and breathed him in.

"Oh, love." he tried to comfort you, "I'm sorry. You're not a burden, I promise you." he kissed your forehead.

"I know that, Steven. I know I'm not a burden to you. I'm scared I'm becoming one to him. He doesn't even want to look at me!" you sniffed.

Steven glared at Jake in the mirror, who was wiping away his own tears.

Steven and Marc knew why Jake was so worked up. They knew that whoever Jake and Hathor's avatar was after called their bluff. They knew that those people had found the woman's partner and Jake was terrified for you and he couldn't even tell you because he never, ever wanted to be the reason for any feeling you had that wasn't bliss, happiness, content, or pleasure. And because he was sure he could find those assholes and beat the living shit out of them for even thinking of harming you.

But it wasn't their place to tell you, that much was apparent. Jake dug his grave, and then jumped into it. He had to crawl out of it on his own now.

"I just want to be someone he's happy to be with." you whisper and that's when Jake straightened up, heartbroken.

"Give me the body, hermano."

"All yours."

Only Jake scrunched the back of your shirts when he hugged you and you moved to hug him tightly as he whispered apologies in your ear.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry I made you feel like you were a burden and that I was anything but fucking delighted to be with you." he kissed your nose and then told you everything. Looking away because he was scared.

"I didn't tell you at first because I didn't want to just say that I had to pretend I was dating someone else and then fuck off for a week. I made a mistake in assuming that'd you get mad and it's because if I was in your place, I would be. But you're stronger than me, tesoro, and I failed to see that and I'm so sorry."

"Baby, I forgive you." you replied and he breathed out a sigh of relief, "But please, don't keep stuff like this in, okay? You can trust me, you know that."

He nodded fiercely and then he kissed you. Noses nudging and lips parting as he breathed you in like you were his lifeline, and he yours. He cupped your face and held you tight against him and when he pulled away you smiled at him, your eyes shining.

Steven fronted again with a little smile and you kissed him lovingly with a whispered 'i love you'. He just winked at you and kissed the back of your hand and then your forehead again before Jake took back control and carried you to the bed, kissing you deeply all the way.

----

Marc was fine, no he just needed a glass of water. He'd carefully rolled off the bed, thankful that he was at least wearing sweatpants and padded to the kitchen.

He should have known that you were a light sleeper.

"Marc." you began, your voice raspy.

He hummed in reply and held out his glass to you. You accepted it and drank your fill, giving it back to him.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke up, "I thanked Steven for comforting me. But I didn't thank you." you cleared your throat, "Thank you, Marc." you said, sincerely, "You're one of my best friends."

Marc smiled at you. Actually smiled. And you smiled back and kept going, "And Jake and Steven know this and are okay with it so I-"

"You don't have to thank me, honey." he patted your shoulder, trying to conceal his tears as he looked away because god he was dumb. Dumb enough to realize now, that he loved you, "I'm glad I'm your friend."

To him, you were everything. You were sunrays and moonbeams and everything that he believed was magical as a boy. Everything he stopped believing in as he grew up. The first time you made him laugh and joined him he felt sure that magic existed after all, because what else could you be?

He tried walking past you but you held his hand and he froze, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You walked over to him and held his face in your hands. His eyes shut as you wipe away his tears. And he whimpered as you kissed his forehead.

"Marc. Open your eyes and look at me." you said softly.

He was terrified. That you'd seen past his mask and were going to let him down gently. Because to you, what could he be? Certainly nothing more than a friend.

"Sweetheart. Please."

When his eyes finally opened, they met yours.

"Marc. I fucking love you." you confessed and he let out a sob. Pulling you into a tight hug.

"I love you. God I love you so much, Sweetheart." he says into your hair, kissing all over your face, but not your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" you asked him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

He nods and your hands travel to his locks and pull them lightly as you bring your lips to his own. Humming sweetly as he wraps his arm around you and licks into you.

Yes, he reasons yet again as you hold his face in your hands and smile at him, magic does exist. And it's in his arms. He loves it and so do the men in his head who cheer for him, albeit sleepily, looking at you lovingly.

And they'd never let you go.

[autistichalsin]

I think one understated part of Halsin's character is that he was never bad at leadership per se; rather, he was bad at Druidic leadership, and almost all of this was because of a combination of trauma and moral conflict.

The part about trauma has been discussed many times, but suffice to say, Halsin being forced into a leadership position he never wanted or asked for? It was traumatic. He lost the previous Archdruid, a man he admired greatly, to a curse he blamed himself for, which also claimed nearly every friend he had: "it would take me a day and a night to recite the names of all the friends I lost." He then was forced into said Archdruid's role, not allowed to heal from his trauma, and not allowed any confidantes, because the few friends who survived the battle were now his subordinates instead of his peers. He went from Halsin Silverbough to Master Halsin. It is no wonder, then, that resentment towards the role built to the point that he began looking for any excuse not to fill that role, and that's before you factor in the additional motivation of wanting to see the Shadow Curse broken and seeing the Emerald Enclave refusing to help him.

He says himself he hates the role for forcing him to spend less time in nature to handle the other Druids' problems. He would rather be in nature than solve the personal problems of the Druids. And of course, by the time he leaves, this resentment is far from onesided, as now more Druids than not have lost respect for Halsin. Yes, a lot of this is due to Kagha's manipulations, but also? A lot of this is very clearly due to a conflict of ideals.

For example, Druids are supposed to loathe the undead, yet Halsin cherishes Astarion's presence. He views them as worthy of respect and a place in the world, and sees them as distinct from beings that are both unnatural and inherently evil. This is a MAJOR difference in ideals. This likely contributed to many ideological conflicts between Halsin and the others.

And of course, Druidic leadership, at least here, is implied to be somewhat authoritarian in nature; even the Druids who hate what Kagha is doing refuse to make a true stand against her, and will join in on the Druid's side fighting against the Tieflings if the conflict started. It implies an authoritarian, "my leader for right or for wrong" structure.

By contrast, in the epilogue, when Halsin is at his happiest, he is in a leadership role, yet rather than being Master Halsin, he is Alderman Halsin, and he doesn't command the commune; he guides them, with help from others as more of an elder than anything. He is partially in charge of managing conflicts between those at his commune, yet it doesn't take him away from nature, and he feels he has a place there he truly belongs. Because instead of being forced to be something he's not, he is being allowed to use the skills he has to make everyone, himself included, happy. He is allowed to have friends and peers, and is allowed the family/children he was never allowed to have when making endless, unappreciated sacrifices at the Grove.

In short, what Halsin wanted was to be a mentoring sort of leader, not an authoritarian one, yet the Druidic structures forced him to be the latter, when he never wanted the role at all, and after a highly traumatic event to boot, and with him being forced to follow beliefs that were at times contrary to his own values.

Halsin was in many ways a poor archdruid, but he wasn't a poor leader.

[zerosuitsammi3]

If I can take a moment to share my experience as a trans woman on the internet

My experience is by no means unique, it's just one experience in the plethora of trans feminine experiences and not unique to only tumblr. Though, I'll mostly talk about what I've experienced here. In the light of recent events, the reaction of "the ceo," and the comments he contributed regarding dog pile harassment; I simply wish to share my experiences that I have had to juxtapose the dynamic of his statements against a lived experience.

This account started as a way to document my social transition and eventually my journey with HRT. Tumblr had always had a large lgbtqia+ community. The queer people here inspired me and gave me hope. What I didn't know, but soon learned, is that there were people here who hated me for being trans. Being early in my transition I was a prime target. TERF groups would plan raids on my account. What this entailed was: rebloging my selfies into circles that would say the most vile things about me, threaten to kill, tell me I was ugly, tell me that everyone I knew thought I was a joke, I was a monster, my family hated me, that I should kill myself, they'd download and edit my photos into caricatures or depictions of violence. They would fill my ask box with hundreds of asks detailing how they'd kill me, call me slurs, describe the ways that I should kill myself, and pretty much everything else I mentioned above with the reblogs. Their words were carefully curated to try and break me, break my spirit, break my will to live. I tried reporting it. But it was impossible to keep up with, and like many others I saw no real response. Eventually I learned that I had to block all of them. 100's of blogs, eventually 1000's of blogs. My block list these days is incredibly extensive. I had to wade through their blogs, traverse sickening hate speech and imagery to eliminate entire circles of people harassing me. I became jaded to the hate speech, hardened to it. But mind you, I shouldn't have had to expose myself to all of this just to be at peace here amongst my community. I received no help, I was left to my own devices to protect myself. The people who hurt me never saw consequences. It was painful, it was unfair, and no one else should have to put the hours upon hours of effort and exposure to hate in to protect themselves like I did. But again my experience is not unique.

I have had to repeat this process of preemptive blocking periodically once a new circle discovers me. Blocking them all before they can start the process of hate all over again. A process of hate that seems to be hitting my community with rapidly increasing fervor as of late.

I've seen others experience far worse than me. The TERF circles will hunt down their personal information and doxx them. Expose their home address, telephone numbers, names of their family members. I can't begin to imagine the terror my queer siblings must feel when someone tells then that they want to murder them all while showing them that they know where you live. This is not a new thing, not a rare tactic, it happens. And we've all seen the news stories of trans people being murdered by people who planned it and were vocal about it.

I know this is depressing. And it doesn't reflect all of my experiences. I've had wonderful experiences here, met amazing people, made close friends, found inspiration, found hope. I found a community.

And it's my community, and I never want to let it go.

I do have fear that making this statement will get me banned. But, I wanted to say it. I wanted it to exist in the world so that everyone who doesn't know our experiences has a chance to understand and with luck empathize.

I'll part on these words and hope for the best both for myself and for every member of the community.

[doumadono]

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! villain!Hawks, f!Reader, non-con, taken captive, elements of necrophilia, murder, blood, bondage, forced orgasm, unprotected and rough p in v, Hawks is an ass here, minors absolutely do not interact - a kitten dies if a minor reads this! Synopsis: Hawks has some "fun" with you after catching you spying for the Commission A/N: this story was written for @lewed and it's a contribution for the Secret Santa event hosted by a wonderful @ectologia

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Pain. As you slowly opened your eyes, it was the first sensation that greeted you — burning, irresistible pain spreading throughout your body.

The surroundings were dark, and you found yourself uncertain of whether you were still alive or perhaps already dead. Attempting to move, you realized the cold sensation around your wrists indicated the presence of some form of handcuffs.

"Marlene!" You whimpered quietly. "Marlene!"

There was no response, only a lingering, eerie silence.

You tried to move, but you couldn't — your legs felt numb, and you were tethered to some metallic structure. Your entire body ached; every attempt to shift, every shallow breath, was accompanied by pain.

Suddenly, a metallic lock clicked open with a key, and a stream of light flooded the room for a moment before disappearing as a tall, dark silhouette stepped in, closing the door. A few seconds later, a dim light illuminated part of the room as two old lamps hanging on either side of the door flickered to life.

You caught sight of him, and your blood turned icy cold. 

Thick combat boots, dark pants paired with a fitted black t-shirt adorned with golden patterns, and a pair of massive red wings. 

You shook your head, still reluctant to believe your own eyes. "Where's my friend?" you inquired anxiously.

"She's alive," came the calm response from the man with red wings.

A glimmer of hope sparked in your eyes. "Can I see her?"

There was a measured pause before the answer, "If you cooperate."

Your dry, blink-filled gaze met his. His emaciated face betrayed no hint of the intentions behind those words.

Hawks observed as you settled into the discomfort, bound wrists and ankles causing a persistent ache. The worry emanated from you, a palpable scent of pungent sweat, akin to a cornered prey navigating the uncertain terrain.

Hawks fixed his gaze on you for an extended moment, a silent observer in the dimly illuminated room cast by the faint light of aged lamps near the sturdy metal door. 

Slowly, he withdrew to the room's shadows, disappearing momentarily. Amongst a collection of cartoon boxes, a triumphant grin crossed his face as he discovered his sought-after item – a hefty hammer. Returning to your vicinity, he playfully toyed with the ominous tool in his grasp.

"Please, let me go. I won't breathe a word to anyone," you pleaded, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure.

His grin widened, feathers rustling slightly. "Oh, I wish I could, little one. But we've stumbled upon a problem. You and your best friend have gotten a bit too close to the truth about me and my colleagues from the League. Weren't you warned about the dangers of working for the Commission?”

“Please, I swear I won't tell anyone…”

Takami approached you with a frown, his golden eyes bearing a weight of seriousness and intrusion. With a rough hand, he tightly pulled back your hair. "I've made it clear before – cooperation is the only ticket out of the mess you've landed yourself in.” He set the hammer down.

"Please," you implored, devoid of weapons or the freedom of your limbs. Contemplating the distance, a fleeting thought of a potential headbutt crossed your mind. Standing could be an advantage. However, all these options dissipated as a tear traced down your cheek. His hand, not occupied with your hair, coiled around your neck, constricting your airflow. A soft sound escaped you, but as his grip weakened, you hastily gulped in air.

"Good girl. Breathe while you still can," he remarked, his hand tenderly patting back your hair, while your eyes held a bitter scorn.

"Please, take me to my friend. What have you done with her?" you pleaded.

"Oh, she's safe. For now," Hawks declared, rising to his full height. 

Your eyes scrutinized the young man, assessing every detail. There was a darkness in his aura, a stark contrast to the times when Hawks, the former Pro Hero Number Two, was known for helping people. Something had transpired between him and the Commission, and the Hawks people once adored had transformed into a ruthless villain, now one of the most perilous figures in Japan.

Hawks firmly gripped you under the armpits, drawing you in close. Thick ropes of chain encumbered your feet, challenging your balance. Your wrists and ass clung to the pole you were tethered to, seeking stability as the shackles jingled against the unforgiving metal pillar. 

His presence pressed down on you, and you cowered beneath its weight. A hand delicately traced your jaw, toying with your dry and rough lips under his thumb. “When I tell you what I want, you’ll do exactly as I say. You wouldn't want to witness the way darkness emanates from me when I command it, girl. Mind your tone and follow my instructions. Once I'm content with you, I'll allow you to see your friend," the former hero warned.

Your whimper lingered as his thumb persisted, applying pressure to the edge of your lip. It delved in, moistening against your tongue as it pressed against the intrusion.

“Suck,” he commanded. 

You vehemently shook your head in defiance, resisting against him. The notion of biting his thumb crossed your mind, perhaps even snapping it off. You strained to lean your head back, attempting to evade his grasp.

“Don’t try anything. If you do, I hurt her,” Hawks warned with an amused grin glued to his lips.

Your eyelids descended, halting an approaching flood of tears. Sealing your mouth around his digit, you sucked as per his request. His thumb pressed in deeper, and you complied.

"Good girl, yes. That'll do quite well. Now, back on your knees," he directed.

You obeyed, using your bound hands to steady yourself as you half-fell.

Hawks nonchalantly undid his belt, followed by his button and zipper. Darkened briefs emerged where the trousers opened in a V, and his hand slid beneath the band. “Now, open your pretty mouth for me, babybird.”

You followed his command, extending your tongue forward, a queasy sensation building within you.

"Excellent," he remarked, his hand delving beneath the thin fabric of his briefs, gradually revealing his long, veiny dick, slightly curved upward.

"Please, don't… What more do you want? We can erase all the intel we gathered!” you begged pathetically.

"Shut up, whore," he commanded, stroking his growing member. "I don't want anything but this from you. It might be the only thing you're good for, I think. Lick," he instructed, rubbing the reddened, swollen tip of his dick against your tongue. "Wet your tongue again for me, babybird."

You swallowed and opened your mouth wide once more. 

He positioned himself against you, and your lips instinctively sucked. A salty bitterness lingered on your palate as your curious tongue explored the head of his cock.

Hawks hissed as the tip of your tongue flicked the sensitive part of his frenulum underneath. "That's right," he affirmed, pushing in deeper, causing your cheeks to bulge. Takami ran his slim fingers through your hair, keeping you steady on his cock. Pulling out just enough to watch saliva stretch from your lips to his shaft, he thrust back in, repeating the motion until you emitted a desperate noise, gagging yourself on his dick.

"Good girl. That's enough of that for now. You just saved your girlfriend from a beating. She'll appreciate that when she wakes up from her last one." Takami grinned as he rubbed the tip of his erection across your swollen lips, wiping away a fallen tear from your cheek before moving behind you. He worked at the shackles around your wrists.

You felt them loosen and drop, but his hand replaced them, gripping you firmly. He pulled you against the pole, the cold metal burning your neck. As he lifted the white shirt from your torso, you pleaded with the faceless hands to stop. The room vanished momentarily as the shirt passed over your head, landing on the floor beside you. Then, your hands were locked together once more, this time in front of you.

You shivered as the cold air filling the room grazed your exposed, bruised skin.

The restraints around your ankles were skillfully loosened with a series of subtle clicks. Your uniform pants were swiftly discarded, followed by your cotton panties, leaving you bare except for the metal-clad bindings around your wrists as you resumed your kneeling position.

A palpable shift in the room's atmosphere ensued.

Hawks, charged with desire, was visibly electrified. His engorged and reddened member pushed back into your mouth, eliciting a moan from him. "You look stunning with your mouth full of my cock," he murmured, reaching down to play with a nipple between his fingers. "And you're damn good at it." His fingers tenderly smoothed your tousled hair as he guided himself deeper into your throat. "Do you ever do this for your boyfriend, if you have one? No? But I bet you fantasize about it. Yes?" He chuckled, reveling in his revelation after your tongue flexed under the weight of his dick. "I knew it! Your boyfriend is a good boy, huh? Just the missionary routine, not letting you explore, even though deep down, you crave it. It's okay, you can imagine I'm him. I'm sure you already are, judging by how wet you're getting. Just picture me as him, but on a wild ride, eager to try something new.”

Slimy fluids trickled from your pussy, tracing a path down your thigh, the disloyal testament of desire slicking your inner folds.

His fingers continued their dance, skillfully teasing your erect nipples, each touch met with an eager response. A sharp squeeze on the left elicited a cry from you, and as he knelt before you, he drew the aching nub into his mouth. "What makes you climax, babybird? Tell me. I want it to be as pleasurable for you as possible!"

A whimper escaped your lips as his calloused finger glided through your folds, everything feeling unsettlingly taboo. A part of you yearned to resist, to break free and escape. Yet, a more primal instinct responded to his calculated touches, a primal need for closeness with a male that seemed to overpower your rational mind, corrupting it.

A creeping finger eased into your pussy. "You're so wet and tight, just look at that. Didn't want to give me a blowjob, but it's obvious it got you excited," he remarked. A second finger joined the first, curving against the walls of your vagina. The pressure felt both pleasurable and unsettling.

"Do you enjoy that, babybird?" he inquired.

You squirmed away, finding yourself seated on the floor.

He pressed your arms over your head, taking in the sight of your breasts. The supple flesh swayed like ripples on water. With one hand gripping his throbbing length and the other on your hips, he guided the two to meet. "You're making the right choice, obeying me, Y/N. I'll bring you to your friend soon. Just one more thing I need you to do for me." The head of his penis entered you gradually, a delectable stretch spreading through you.

The mingling sensations of pleasure and pain raced through you like wildfire. The boundary between anger and passion blurred, akin to smoke and cloud intertwining. "N-no," you cried, attempting to push him away by pressing your feet against his thighs.

He huffed as he thrust fully inside you, easily bottoming out. His wings fluttered as arousal overcame him. "Fuck, you're so tight, holy shit. Almost feels like you're a virgin."

An involuntary moan escaped your lips, and you cursed yourself for that.

"I just need you to do one more thing for me, babybird. I want you to cum for me. I know you can do it, little bitch."

Your eyes squeezed shut, tears threatening to spill. His heated and girthy member glided in and out of your drenched pussy. The unforgiving concrete pressed against your back, each forceful thrust leaving bruises as he relentlessly drove you into the ground.

Hawks restrained your arms by holding your wrists above your head, his dominant hand skillfully working your clit. “Fuck, fuck, yes, little dove, I love how your pussy is clenching around me. You're such a good babybird.”

You futilely cursed at him, weakened by the onslaught of physical pleasure. His erection completely filled your pussy, allowing him to penetrate deeply from this angle. Despite the way he mercilessly circled your clit with his thumb, you resisted the urge to wrap your bloodied feet around him and ride his dick back. The struggle not to climax intensified as he sensed your unraveling, cruel laughter escaping him.

"Will your boyfriend ever fuck you like this? No, he'd probably be too gentle," Takami panted between words, thrusting into you with an unrelenting pace. "A girl like you craves it rough, needs it like this. A girl as scarred and desperate as you wants to feel something. A good girl always wants to be damaged. If you want to see your friends and family again, you'll cum on my cock.”

Frustration escaped your lips in a scream. Your ass throbbed, and your core pulsated with proximity to climax. The images of your friend and boyfriend flashed in your mind, intensifying your inner turmoil. In the dimly lit room, through tear-filled eyes, Hawks' face remained elusive. Your juices squelched, trickling down your sensitive skin to your asshole.

"You're holding back. Cum, and I'll take you to your girlfriend. Cum for me." Takami kissed your breasts, fingers maintaining a tantalizing rhythm on your clit, a friction you secretly enjoyed.

Your hips surged upward uncontrollably, and you were cursing the duplicity of your own desires and pussy.

"I told you to cum for me." He struck your face, the impact strong enough to briefly black out your senses.

Impatient, Hawks groaned, his throbbing cock signaling an impending climax. He dispatched a few feathers from his wings, their sharp edges slicing your skin on the shoulders and calves in an attempt to rouse you.

A loud hiss escaped your lips as the sharp cuts decorated your skin, tears streaming down your cheeks. "N-no, I don't... want to! Please! Please, don't cum in! I'm begging you! Please!’ you tried to move away but he slapped your face again.

A warmth surged through you, an irreversible tide that swept away any chance of retreat. Suppressing your moans, you felt your core tighten around him, forcing him through a final series of thrusts before he climaxed within your rhythmically clenching pussy. Your orgasm, though unexpected and unwelcome, was all-encompassing. Legs shaking, abdomen twitching, you writhed beneath his touch, attempting to muffle the sounds of pleasure, aware that he observed the explosion of pleasure within you. The sneer of his release transformed into a cruel smile.

"I knew you wouldn't be entirely worthless to me," he remarked, tucking his member away once again.

"That's so sad."

"W-what's sad?" you asked, still catching your breath. "You promised I'd be able to see my friend. Where is she?"

Hawks, unbothered by your voice and a wet stain on his pants from your combined releases after he retracted his cock, sent one of his feathers to illuminate the room while switching the lights on. 

It was then that you saw her — your friend, lifeless, naked and hanging upside down on the opposite wall, her ankles bound to the ceiling, her torso gruesomely cut from throat to vagina.

The echoes of your own screams reverberated in your ears, but the voice seemed alien, almost primal — like that of a wild animal.

Hawks approached the suspended lifeless body and callously slapped the vagina of your deceased friend. "She wasn't as cooperative as you. Unfortunately, we had to eliminate her."

Tears streamed down your face as you choked on your own sobs, struggling against the metal restraints binding your wrists. "Why! Oh God! Oh God! Marlene!"

Hawks explained, "She didn't want to listen," just as the metal door swung open. “Such a waste. I wasn't aware that preserving one's virginity was still a concern in today's girls' world. But I must say she was fucking delicious. Not as much as you, of course.”

Entering the room was none other than Dabi, casually leaning against the wall, observing the macabre scene. "Came to check what's taking you so long, birdbrain.”

"I was reuniting our lovely Y/N with her friend. She was a good, obedient girl to me, so I decided to reward her."

Dabi furrowed his brow, rolling his eyes a little. "Memory cards, birdbrain," he reminded.

Hawks casually retraced his steps to your discarded clothes, rummaging through the pockets of your uniform pants. He retrieved two SD cards and handed them to Dabi.

The scarred villain ventured further into the room, reaching for a Nikon camera on one of the shelves. "Can't wait to get off to this little tape tonight," he chuckled, shooting you a cold glance.

A lump formed in your throat. They had recorded everything — every violation inflicted by Hawks, every involuntary response of your body. Dread enveloped you.

“Please…” you whispered.

Hawks gave Dabi a look, and the other villain nodded.

"Shush, shush, shush," Dabi cooed, crouching next to you, sizing your face with his hand, turning it more to inspect it. "Don't cry. This little tape will be sent to your dad in Kyoto, a small keepsake of you. He'll be able to see your last moments. How his precious, little daughter, working so proudly in the Hero Public Safety Commission was taking villain's cock like a cheap whore. I'm sure he'll be proud."

"What... Please, please!" Your voice rose in desperation. "Please! I won't tell anyone. I can spy for you, I can do whatever you want. Please!"

Dabi observed you with amusement. "Isn't she the sweetest?" He cast a sidelong glance at Hawks before leaning forward to lick the tears off your reddened cheeks.

You winced, trying to crawl away.

Dabi grinned and rose, exiting the room. "Just don't leave a mess here. I'm not keen on cleaning up after you, birdie."

As the metal door closed, you whined like a wounded animal. Instinctively, you knew you weren't going to make it out of this situation alive.

Hawks approached you, ruffling your hair. "You were a good girl. I want you to know that."

"Please," you tried once again. "Please, free me."

He smiled at you. "I'm freeing you."

A swooshing sound filled the air, and the next moment, you were suffocating with your own blood, unable to draw a breath. The blood quickly poured down your chest through the cut throat, and soon your head hung lifelessly to the side.

Hawks lingered for a moment, watching your lifeless body. He couldn't resist slipping his hands down and between your legs, rubbing your still warm and slick folds, pushing his finger in one last time. "Such a waste," he murmured, licking his fingers clean before getting up. He used the hammer he had earlier picked up to crush the phone he retrieved from the pocket of your uniform trousers. Following that, he doused your body, as well as your friend's, and the floor in gasoline before igniting it with his lighter.

Whistling happily under his breath, he left the room and ascended the metal stairs, leaving everything that had transpired behind, not bothering to turn around even once.

[thoodleoo]

Hi! Can you help me out with something?

Ever since I was a kid, I've been in love with antiquity. My dream career was always something related to the study of dead languages, and ancient history, and literature. I've always been the kind of person that is full of doubts, indecision and insecurity, and yet I've always been sure of this one thing: I want to study ancient Greek literature, language, history, religion and philosophy.

I'm a history major (and latina, which I think is relevant because where I'm from, the narrative of "those people are the ancestors of our civilization" isn't as strong as it is in Europe or America, tho it does exists), and ever since I started college I've wondered what's the relevance of this knowledge? I look at my colleagues (although I know comparison is the killer of joy) and I see them studying modern politics, psychology, prison abolition, slavery, etc, and I just can't help but wonder what is my knowledge for. Everything they study is so relevant and important, and then I look at what I study and it feels like just one more interpretation of something that's been studied and analyzed a thousand times by a million different people. I don't mean to say it's useless, but there's already so much research in this field, people have been obsessed with Greece and Rome for centuries. Sometimes I search up some papers, and I look at their title and I can't help but think "man, what is left to say? Does this change anything? Does it matter?".

I don't know. I know there's so much I don't know about the field, but I just feel a bit hopeless — and that's fucking me up because there is no other choice, I want to study Greece and my heart won't be satisfied with anything else (believe me, I've tried). So, I guess what I wanna ask is, is there something I'm not seeing? Why did you choose to do what you do? Do you think it matters?

hm see this is something i often struggle with myself because i sometimes get in my head about like. actually WHY is it useful or helpful to know about different obscure uses of the ablative or what have you,

BUT. there are still TONS of things to learn about the ancient world, and there's always something new to say, and recent world events have been a pretty good reminder of how important it is to learn to examine things that are outside our own cultural context. ultimately humans exist for ourselves and for each other and there is always a benefit to furthering our understanding of the us-ness that makes makes us even WANT to look back on the way things used to be. i could go on and on about how studying classics is a great foundation for having conversations about things like politics and psychology and prison abolition, and it really IS a great field of study for teaching us how to think critically and live our lives in an informed manner. but also, i think that something mattering to you is enough to make it worth pursuing, because our humanity is what makes us want to pursue it.

really i chose to go into the classics because i love them and i want to share them and i think at this point theyre a fundamental part of my being. mayhaps that is not the most satisfying answer in terms of the importance of my contributions to the world but ultimately we are all here to be the most human self we can, and i find that valuable enough to keep going

[wren-of-the-woods]

I've been seeing a lot of posts lately talking about how no one comments/reblogs/replies/etc anymore, and, as someone who comments regularly on a lot of fanworks, it sometimes makes me wonder if my efforts are worth anything. Then I remember how much happiness I get from comments on my own work/posts and how much the community of fandom can matter, and I remember the power that can be found in spreading joy instead of disappointment.

So -- to everyone who comments on fanfiction: thank you. You make the writing process worthwhile and so very rewarding. You make people happy every day.

To all the people who reblog art and gifsets and meta and anything else with enthusiastic tags: thank you. You make people smile and promote interesting conversations and make being on Tumblr so much more fun.

To anyone who sends people asks about their works, whether it's unprompted or part of an ask game: thank you. You give people reasons to talk about things they love and feel like a part of a community.

To the people who makes reclists: thank you. You give us more to read while showing the author how much their work is loved and appreciated, benefitting so many people.

To everyone who organizes events and groups and blogs and dedicated to fandom: thank you. You build community and love and excitement so effectively and it's wonderful.

To all the authors and artists who respond to comments and build community: thank you. You make people smile with your work and then again with your response.

To everyone who contributes to fandom and community in all the other beautiful, varied ways that I can't even begin to list: thank you. You are why we're here.

And, finally, to every writer, visual artist, gifmaker, cosplayer, maker of edits, writer of meta, or creator of art in any other form: thank you. Your work is wonderful and you make fandom what it is, regardless of who sees your art or how much response you recieve.

Keep going, everyone. You are a part of something beautiful.

[momotarotea]

Sonic Big Bang 2024!

So part of why I've been quiet recently is that I've been working on my contribution for the @sthbigbang event!

Of course, I had to write a Shadamy fic. I also did an illustration for my fic, as did the immensely talented @waywardvessel

@sofibeth-arts

and @morefluid-thanwater!

Working with you three was a pleasure, and I hope you all enjoy the finished piece!

If you'd rather read this on AO3, here's the link!

Without further adieu, I hope you all enjoy ARK Angel :)

Summary: Life is a series of decisions, but what if one had gone differently? What if Amy’s pleas to Shadow on the ARK had fallen on deaf ears, and he hadn’t agreed to save the world? The only thing left to do would be to fight to save the world herself, wouldn’t it?

Discovering Shadow in an abandoned lab hadn’t been on Amy’s to-do list that day, but neither had heading into space, watching Sonic almost die, or anything else from the events of that day. With the Space Colony now plummeting headfirst towards the Earth, it seemed that she would be adding ‘begging Shadow to save the human race’ to her impromptu list of tasks, too.

She’d stopped in the corridor to give herself a pep talk when she’d spotted him - fear having gripped her momentarily at the sight of the pitch-furred hedgehog. After a deep inhale to steel herself, she darted over to him at the window, a fire in her stomach and determination on her face. Every step made her feel like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. He’d been nothing but trouble for her friends up to this point, and whether it had been intentional or not, she couldn’t help but hold it against him. He’d framed Sonic for his wrong-doings, tried to stop them at every turn, and now, he had refused to go with the others when they had rushed to the cannon’s core in an attempt to stop the ARK from destroying their world. She hated to admit it, but deep down, she knew he was the only hope. He was the only one who knew the space colony well enough to do anything meaningful in the time they had left - but getting his help would be no small feat.

“Shadow, we need you!” She yelled, practically tripping over her own feet to come to a halt next to him. She couldn’t back out on her plea now. He would either refuse, or save them all. There were no half measures here.

His eyes - the colour of blood, and just as spine-chilling - swept over the expanse of space before him, turning to her.  “It’s all going according to plan,” he murmured, fixing her on the spot with a withering glare. “There is no reason for me to help them. Besides, there’s no way to save anyone.” 

He was so matter-of-fact. So cold and clinical about so many lives being taken away for a crime committed years ago, by a handful of people who may not even still be alive… Did he not see what he was doing? What he was allowing to unfold? His life so far hadn’t been easy, by any stretch of the imagination, but to destroy the Earth over it?

“There has to be!” She found herself blurting, her fists balled at her chest, “I know that people fight over the most trivial things,” she began, voice wavering and tentative, “Some people…” She continued, trying to pick her words carefully and think before she spoke, as she so often didn’t. Rage would not get the better of Amy Rose today. “…may be selfish like the professor said… But they’re basically good. If they try their best and never give up on their wishes… They always have a reason to be happy.”

The pink hedgehog paused for a moment, trying to gauge Shadow’s reaction to her words so far. His face was hard to read, stoic and brooding as he was, and with the whirlwind of emotions swirling in her head she was struggling to separate the facade of nonchalance from any underlying emotion or sign of doubt. She swallowed hard, brows furrowing, as she put the last pieces of her plea together. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands, a tentative step forward bringing her closer to him as she pleaded, “That’s why you should help them out! Saving them is a good thing! Shadow, I beg you, please do it for them. Give them a chance!”

The lab fell into near silence, the only sounds the beeping of long-abandoned equipment and echoes of Amy’s voice as it faded away in the enormity of the room.

His eyes hadn’t left hers, not for a moment, but now, they flickered over her, regarding her as if this was the first time he had seen her, and she had just asked the world of him. 

Now that she thought about it, that wasn’t far from the truth. 

He turned back to the window. She searched his face for an answer - for even an incline of what he may say - but he gave away nothing. Instead, Shadow closed his eyes.The air felt thin, time seeming to fray and threatening to snap. It couldn’t have been longer than a moment, but to Amy, it felt like eternity. 

Then, his face twisted in a sneer. 

“No.” 

Amy gasped as Shadow’s eyes opened. She could feel the hate wash over her. 

“You talk about what they want, their hopes and dreams and wishes - but what about mine? Am I supposed to give up, to pander to people who have sought to harm me? To use me?” His expression darkened, shifting to something that sent a chill down her spine. “Why should I?” 

He snarled, turning sharply to face her head on. “Why should I save them? These people who, by your own admission, are selfish?”

“That’s not what I-”

“I won’t help them. They can all go to hell!”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, welling and threatening to fall. She’d shrunk further away from him with each word, feeling less and less like she was capable of changing his mind, and more like she was being scolded for her naivety. Blood rushed in her ears, the pounding of her heart deafening her as the fire she had felt in her stomach was all but put out by his words raining down around her. 

She’d failed. Fallen short. 

But somehow… something told her she couldn’t just give in. Laying down and taking whatever she was given wasn’t her style. Maybe once upon a time, but not now. 

“But Shadow, I know that under all of the pain you're good! I know you-”

“You know nothing!” He spat, quills bristling as a sharp, derisive followed. “You want to save them? Do it yourself.” 

The fire roared. It licked against her insides, boiling her blood and building pressure in her system. It was like her veins were no longer for transporting oxygen - they were a part of a boiler system that was over pressurised, and the safety valve was ripped away. She was ready to blow, and unfortunately for Shadow, he’d blocked the last outlet for her steam. 

She realised what she’d done when the palm of her hand started stinging, and his face snapped towards the glass he stood in front of. She’d slapped him. Hard. So hard, in fact, that there was already a red handprint forming on the side of his muzzle. It looked sore, and any other time, she would have apologised profusely - but the rage that still simmered forbade her from showing remorse. Before he could retaliate, she found herself racing out of the lab and down the hallway in the direction her friends had taken, straight for the Cannon Core.

The soles of her boots on the sheet metal of the floor drummed in her head, seeming to sync with her thundering blood. Every second mattered. Gerald had given them twenty-seven minutes. Some of that time had already slipped through her fingers, so Chaos only knew how long she had now.

The walkway she was on came to a junction, causing her to slow and eventually stop. The corridor had split in two, open doorways yawning to the left and right with no clear indication as to which was the way to the cannon core. To the left, purple walls and strobing lights lit glass floors and moving platforms, while the right glowed an ominous red, the hexagonal pathway seeming to go on forever. 

“Red means danger,” she murmured to no one in particular, taking a tentative step towards the right-hand door. Rings of light seemed to race up the walls towards the entryway. It was almost as if they were trying to push her away and convince her to go down the other route, but that just served to convince Amy that this had to be the right way. Of course the mad scientist who had set the ARK on a crash course with the Earth would want to keep people away from the metaphorical off switch for his plan.

With a quick scan of the corridor she found a rail that ran along the roof, with a handle hanging from it. If it did what she thought it did, it could be a quicker way to traverse the tunnel before her. Manoeuvring herself to see further down the twists and turns and realising she couldn’t see the end, or even the light that might mark it, she concluded that any boost to speed she could give herself would be a welcome one. With that in mind, she backed up a few steps and ran, leaping for the handle. The jolt of inertia was enough to slide along the rail, and before long, she was travelling at a good pace.

The tunnel twisted, throwing her violently in one direction, and then the other, with lights flashing and dissipating all the while. It was making her feel queasy. In desperation, she shut her eyes tight in hopes of a temporary reprieve, but the lights came to a sudden stop. She cracked an eye open, squinting to get a better look at where the light ended, to see where the rail went once the transition to black was made, but with horror she realised it was the open expanse of a new room, cyan sparks of electricity punctuating the otherwise pitch black. The rail came to an abrupt halt, the handle hitting the stop plate at the end with a thunk, and she was flung forward into the empty air. 

Amy shrieked, the possibility that this was her end, not the collision with the Earth, briefly filling her head as she searched for something to grab or land on. Columns hung from the ceiling, too far away for her to use to stop her descent, and all around her was nothing but blackness. A void.

But, as her limbs wheeled, panic rising, she saw the familiar glow of the tunnel she had been launched from. Had she tipped forward? Rolled in the air somehow to look back at where she’d come from? No, she couldn’t have. The columns were still above her - this had to be new. That, and now that she was thinking more critically, this new light was more orange than red. That had to be the way forward.

Below her was a stone outcrop that stopped just before the orange room. That was her target but she was falling fast. Landing wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. Not without an injury, anyway. 

She’d seen Sonic spindash his way out of situations like this before, but he normally had an enemy to aim for. Whoever had been here before had done a good job of clearing out any hostiles - too good a job. If she could just slow her fall somehow, then she could land without fear of breaking a leg - or worse. 

Then it hit her. Her hammer. She’d used it before to make a small wind tunnel. If she could just time it properly, she could decelerate just before she made contact with the ground. 

She held out her hands, her signature hammer appearing in her grip with a plume of smoke that was quickly whisked away as she gained speed. Once her vision cleared, she took stock again. She needed to act in five… four… three… two-

Panic struck her. She’d over estimated. The ground was approaching faster than she had expected. Eyes wide, veins icy with dread, she hefted the hammer, swinging it as hard and fast as she could in a circular motion.

A gust of air caught her. She slowed. And, with only a few quills windswept and out of place, she landed. With a deep exhale, shoulders dropping in relief, she allowed herself a moment to gather herself before taking on the next section of her journey.

Amy shook herself. She had to get moving again - the ARK was still plummeting. The Earth was still in danger. And, as much as she trusted and admired Sonic, she wasn’t sure  he could do it on his own this time. 

The path ahead was maybe ten feet long before it dropped into a chasm. Why there was such a large pit inside a space colony, she didn’t know, but it was going to be difficult to get over. A running start wouldn’t go amiss, but even an olympic long jumper would have trouble with a gap so wide. 

Absently, she hefted the hammer, flipping it in her hand as she puzzled over her dilemma. If only she could use something like an enemy as a stepping stone, or-

She paused, closely inspecting the hammer in her hand. An idea flickered in her mind like a lightbulb. That might just do it. 

She shook out her arms and hands, leaning forward and focusing on the glow of the next room. This jump had only two outcomes - suicide or success - and she had to have the confidence to make sure it was the latter. 

Rearing back and filling her lungs with the stagnant air of the chamber, Amy committed to her stunt, surging forward and charging at the crevasse. Her whole body felt like it was pulsing. Between her heartbeat, the cadence of her feet and adrenaline, she didn’t know which to blame.

As the end of the stone walkway approached, her mind’s eye replaced it with the white line of a long jump pit, and a yell tore from her throat. She threw herself into the abyss, leaping with all the strength she could in hopes that it would reduce how long she would have to spin her hammer. It was a new skill  after all, so the less she had to rely on it, the better.

She sailed through the air, the grip on her hammer turning her knuckles white; it would sting once she let go, but she was too terrified of dropping it. There was still so far to go, so much nothing to cross over, but she could feel that her fall had begun. 

With everything she had, Amy swung the hammer, letting herself twist with it in the air and hoping to land on solid ground. 

One, 

Two, 

Three full rotations, and she could feel herself getting dizzy. Keeping her eyes open had been a mistake for her stomach, which churned and protested, but she wouldn’t know when to stop otherwise. 

Four,

Five

Six rotations. The longer she spun, the more she felt like maybe she’d missed the edge, and was just spiralling into the void of nothing below, but something told her that she had to persevere. There seemed to be more and more orange in her blurry view of the world, which surely meant was at least close to the other side. 

One… 

More… 

Turn… 

She slowed, stopped, and staggered, the world still spinning even though she wasn’t. She’d made it. Her idea, insane as it was, had worked, and as her vision cleared the orange glow she had aimed for snapped into focus. What had once been an octagonal tunnel, now squared off with panels of glass, pulsed with amber light. 

Her heels clicked a staccato against the floor as she wobbled away from her landing spot, head swimming and hands shaky. Amy’s grip on her hammer faltered, the weapon slipping from her fingers and disappearing in a puff of smoke, and all she could do was watch. Much more effort might bring about another appearance of her breakfast, which wasn’t something she was keen to experience.

With each step, the haze of dizziness cleared. It was like she was wading through the last of a thick fog, finally emerging into the light of day. Unfortunate that the daylight in question was only the rest of the room, not the end of her journey, but at least the end was approaching. 

The back of the room split off into a T junction. To the right was a dead end, while the left path gave way to a room of shifting, spinning cubes and display panels that showed only the same amber light of the previous rooms swishing back and forth.

Now that her stomach had settled, Amy risked picking up the pace, following the corridor as it curved to the right. Cubes tumbled in the air, bathing her in their warm glow - but she had no time to enjoy it. Chaos only knew how long she had left before the ARK would collide with the Earth -or if she’d be able to stop the collision - but she had to try. Just because Shadow had refused to help, that didn’t mean she had to accept her fate. She could do this. She had to believe she could, because if she couldn’t, then-

The familiar sound of her heels on glass gave way to sloshing and a low buzzing sound. She’d been so preoccupied with her fate, so focused on her goal that she hadn’t realised she was in a new area. Three inches of fluid lapped against the soles of her shoes, the translucent amber liquid looking like it belonged in a reactor, not on the floor. The unnatural, tangerine hue almost gave her pause, but as she splashed through it she found herself having to think fast once more. 

Lazers and a metal barrier barred her way. She estimated that she would be able to slide under the barricade if she timed it right, and that the chance of getting the amber liquid on her skin - or worse, in her eyes or mouth - was worth the risk. She sped up, running until she was maybe two feet away from the lazer-wall and dropping into a slide.

Her nose grazed the metal, but she was under, and otherwise unharmed. Much to her relief, the liquid that coated the floor didn’t seem to be acidic, either, but for the time being that was the least of her concerns. 

Before her was a six foot wall, edged in the same metal as the barrier was made of, and no other direction to go. She knew she couldn’t jump that high. If she were lucky, and had a decent start, she might be able to get enough of a grip with her fingers to haul herself up. Possibles and maybes didn’t save the world, she knew, but neither did people who didn’t at least try against the odds. 

Backtracking as close to the lasers as she dared, she eyed the run-up she’d given herself. It should be enough.

Would be enough.

Had to be enough.

Filling her lungs, she rocked back. A fizzing sound and the smell of burning quills rolled over her. Too far. With a flinch and a quick pat of the affected area, she squared her shoulders, and took another deep breath…

Before running full speed at the wall. 

She charged, picking up as much speed as she dared before hurling herself upwards towards the ledge.

Her body slammed into the wall, chest and ribs screaming with the impact, but the tips of her fingers had caught on the ledge, holding her against the frigid surface. She wheezed in a breath, grimacing as she did, and walked the fingers of one hand onto the ledge until her palm sat against it. She repeated the process once she was sure her grip was sound, slowly grappling her way onto the surface until she was able to swing a leg up and roll onto the floor, panting with the exertion.  

Amy wanted to stay there. Sprawled on the floor, where the fate of the world wasn’t in her hands, and nothing more was needed of her, but she couldn’t do that. Even if Sonic could do this without her, she was sick of being the extra. The back up. The ‘just in case’. But not any more. That was going to change. 

She staggered to her feet, bathed in the crimson glow of the next corridor. It looked so similar to the first, but even though it had only been a few minutes since, that first rail ride felt a lifetime away. 

She crossed the threshold at a run, feeling the slope of the floor dip down towards the heart of the ARK. She was ready for this. She was going to make a difference.

The ground levelled out sharply, more of the amber swill from a few rooms ago coming into view in a roiling torrent past a sheer drop - one that she knew now that she could traverse with ease, thanks to her hammer. With a hop, skip, and a jump, she launched herself into the air, and realised just how far she would need to go.

From this angle, she saw that the orange flow rushed towards her, cascading down and away from where she assumed she needed to be. But, it plateaued - and presumably, flowed in the opposite direction on the other side. 

Smoke billowed around her as the hammer materialised, but quickly dispersed as she spun in the practised cyclone that had delivered her safely across the chasm before.

The world around her was a blur, flashes of colour and light that only made sense when she broke from the tornado she had created and let herself take it all in. She could see now that she had been right about the flow of water. It did flow the other way, with an equally steep slope that flowed into a pipe. That had to be it. The inlet to the canon core. 

Her trajectory landed her just past the section of level ground, a few paces into the decline, and the flow swept her off her feet with a splash. Control would be hard won, she realised, as her form took the path of least resistance, swerving from left to right at an increasingly alarming pace. When her body started to rotate, threatening to have her careen down the space-age log flume head first, she felt her heart skip a beat. Relinquishing the control of her direction was one thing, but her orientation was something that wasn’t up for debate. 

Small adjustments to compensate for the swivel seemed to keep her facing the right direction, much to her relief. “Thank Gaia,” she found herself whispering, hoping that her small praise would be enough to convince any higher power that she was grateful for this mercy, and to continue sending it her way. 

A crackle filled the air, the sound of an intercom creaking to life. Amy glanced around to find the speaker, even though she knew it would be of no use to her to know where it was. She was left only with the sound of a vaguely familiar voice echoing around the pipe she was stuck in.

“All of you ungrateful humans,” it began, tone foreboding and morose. Was that… the scientist? The one who had made Shadow? “Who took everything from me…” It was! A recording of him couldn’t mean anything good. She found herself searching frantically for an exit; Something in her chest told her she needed to get out of this tunnel. “Will feel my loss, and despair!”

As the last of Gerald's announcement ricocheted around her, her body was thrown around the curve of the pipe and light winked into existence in front of her. It was the end of the water way, she realised, but not quickly enough to avoid being dumped onto the floor unceremoniously.

She groaned, checking where her limbs had contacted the ground for any signs of damage - it was mostly small cuts and scrapes, but she had the feeling there would be bruises in more places tomorrow - and dusted herself down, rising to her feet cautiously.

There it was. The cannon core. And between her and it were Sonic, Knuckles, and- 

“What in Chaos’ name is that!?” Amy shrieked. She had seen some sights in her time, but this? It was grotesque. Calling it anything else fell short of the true horror of the lumbering beast that shook the ground with each step. Its skin seemed to pool around its joints and feet, like it had an excess of it that refused to slough off despite its best efforts. Tubes protruded from all over its body at odd angles, leaving wounds that looked jagged and inflamed, ready to rupture at any moment. 

The least offensive part of this behemoth was the canister on its back full of fluorescent green liquid that sloshed with every movement, the glow it provided highlighting the folds and wrinkles of the too-loose skin that covered its body.

Between the disgusting lifeform in front of her and the fear writhing like a snake in her stomach, retaining her lunch had become no easy feat. But, she was convinced that adrenaline was the only thing keeping her from vomiting.

“Amy!? What are you doing here!?” Sonic yelled, incredulity and fear clear in the crack of his voice.

“I asked Shadow to help us, and he refused,” she proffered, holding her hands out and summoning her Piko Piko hammer. “So I came to help instead.”

“No, no way,” the blue hedgehog said, shaking his head. “You need to go back and-” 

A roar interrupted him, the beast clearly annoyed that it was being ignored.

“We don’t have time to argue!” She spat back, hefting the hammer and looking to Knuckles for back up. If anyone would understand, it would be him.

The echidna looked between his friends, knowing that by supporting Amy, he would put her in harm’s way, but by supporting Sonic, he would give Amy the impression he didn’t believe she was capable of helping them. He gave an irritated sigh, and turned to Sonic. “She’s right, we have to get the Master Emerald into that shrine now or we’re all toast! Amy,” he turned to her, violet eyes burning, “You need to keep that thing busy while Sonic and I get to the shrine - think you can do that?”

She nodded curtly, her expression settling into one of conviction as she focused on the monster that lumbered towards them now, trying to decide if she was insane for agreeing to this, or brave for even trying. For now, she would go with the latter.

As her friends raced for the shrine, a heaviness settled on her chest. Her blood felt cold, like she'd had a bucket of water dumped over her and the raging inferno she had stoked when she began this journey had been drowned. This thing was horrifying. Even its movements seemed unnatural, like its muscles weren't intended for its skeleton, and every stuttering step made the loose skin of its joints undulate sickeningly.

She choked back the bile that rose in her throat, refusing to take her eyes off it on principle alone. It probably already knew she was terrified, already knew that she wanted to turn tail and run until her lungs screamed for her to stop - but she wouldn’t. Not today. 

Her hammer felt leaden in her grip. The weight of the world, of her friends lives, of her own future - they all seemed present in its heft. She took a shaky step forward, feeling the fear rise but knowing she couldn't let it overwhelm her. Another step followed the first, the façade of confidence settling over her like a warm, comforting blanket. 

This was it. Her chance to prove herself. “Never fear,” she began, swiping the hammer to her side and shifting her weight to run. “Amy Rose is here!”

The biolizard lunged for her, snapping its toothless maw. If she were any slower, it would have crushed her arm.

She ran to the right, hoping for an opening where she could hit it hard enough to at least give it pause. But the beast lumbered after her, pivoting in the shallow puddle of water it wallowed in and sending ripples over the lip with each thunderous step. 

Keeping a distance between her and its mouth was Amy's top priority. Visions of what would become of her if she didn't played in her mind, and she had to physically shake her head to banish the thoughts. She needed adrenaline. Optimism. Not fear.

Amy stole a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't covered much ground, but already the monster seemed to be tiring. Its breathing was heavy. Laboured. Ragged. 

How was it so tired after barely moving? 

That was exactly it, it turned out. The thing barely could move, and so what little it had already managed was a gargantuan task for its body. If she could exhaust it - however briefly - that would be an advantage, one that was sorely needed.

With that in mind, Amy re-doubled her efforts, antagonising the beast by shouting over her shoulder at it. The lumbering started to slow, and it wasn't long before the biolizard came to a halt. 

Steam seemed to billow from its mouth with each exhale, and each inhale seemed hard won. There it was. The opening she needed.

Skidding almost to a stop, she pivoted on a heel and ran at its side, torn for a moment on where to hit it. The side was easily accessible, fleshy, and likely to do some internal damage if she could hit it hard enough, but the pipes that wound around its form gave her pause. They had to have a purpose. Transporting something, most likely - something that it needed, or else its creator wouldn't have left them there. 

Those pipes all seemed to converge on its back. Whatever they held was either flowing to or from there.

Hoping her guess was correct, Amy leapt. Her mind flashed back to her leap of faith across the chasm. But she had overcome that, just like she would overcome this. 

She crested the mass of crimson flesh, her boot slipping on loose skin as she landed. The shaky breaths beneath her shifted the pipes she'd followed. Just as she thought, they all appeared to connect to a device on its back.

That had to be it. 

A yellow glow pulsated atop the machine, growing brighter with each inhale, and dimming with each exhale. Surely, that wasn't a coincidence? It had to be a life support - or have at least some impact on the biolizard's continued life.

Having convinced herself, she did what she always did when all that stood between her and victory was a metal box. 

She swung her hammer at it.

The familiar crunch of her hammer connecting with metal brought a smile to her lips. The device crackled with electricity, pops and fizzes an audible indicator of broken connections. 

Beneath her, the biolizard screamed, its cry akin to a yowling cat, and shook itself violently enough to throw her to the ground. 

She skidded across the paved pathway, scraping her shoulder in the process. But as pain pulsed through her, she couldn't help but wonder how it had been so easy to defeat something that had been touted as the ultimate life form.

And then it moved. 

Toothless jaws snapped at her, missing by mere inches. She flinched away, scrambling to her feet and bolting away. 

This time, the biolizard didn't make a move towards her though. It's feet were planted firmly in the murky orange pool, and no sloshing could be heard.

What she did hear, though, was scarier than any eerie silence. It was like a blockage being cleared from a pipe at high velocity, a resounding poh noise, followed by stone crunching and skittering away.

It took every ounce of courage she had to turn and look behind her. 

A ball of what she could only describe as shadows tore towards her, purple energy crackling across its surface like lightning. 

she threw herself out of the way, keeping her eyes trained on the monster. Its maw opened again, energy swelling in its throat, and another popping sound exploded from it, firing the orb at her.

There would be no more wearing it out. The shadows seemed capable of following her, this new ball proved, as it swerved towards her at frightening speed. Dodging was the only option.‘Think, Amy! Think, think, think!’ She chastised, eyes darting across the beast in hopes of finding an answer.

To her surprise, she found it - a cord that ran from its mouth to its back. If she was fast, and careful, she could get to its back from there to do some more damage, and avoid the shadows at the same time.

There was no time to second guess herself. Raising her hammer again, she charged, side-stepping the second orb in the nick of time. A yell tore from her throat, half from terror and half from the rising sensation in her chest that goaded her to do better, to be better - to be a hero. 

She reached the cable just as a third ball started forming. With precision achieved by pure adrenaline, she made her first step onto the tube, following quickly by her second. It felt surreal. The narrowing of her focus to include only the pound of her veins, her boots on the wire as she barrelled up to its back. Her foot had been on its back for hardly a heartbeat when she slammed her hammer into the side of the still crackling unit. 

The casing cracked open, chips of metal spraying from the gash. She hefted the hammer back over her head, slamming it down onto the orange dome.

Glass shattered, spraying her with shards that sliced at her arms and cheeks. She hissed, the tiny cuts stinging individually and as one, the sensation overwhelming. 

A familiar rage built. One she’d experienced a thousand times before but never quite this intensely. She swung again, and again, the crumpling sound mixing with the yowling to create a truly ear-splitting cacophony. But in her rage, everything had quieted. 

When the world pitched, it took a moment for her to realise why. The biolizard was shaking, trying to throw her off, but as she fell, her hammer caught on one of the pipes, jolting her to a stop.

Another yowl, the tugging clearly causing it at least some discomfort. She could feel the noise in her bones, the vibrations rattling her. But this could be worse. In fact, this could be a fantastic opportunity to end this whole thing, here and now. 

Bracing her feet against its side, boots sliding on skin too big for its frame, she pulled.

The cable popped out of the socket, spraying amber ichor as it flailed, and for what she hoped was the last time today, she hit the ground. 

She rolled away, knowing that she needed to dissipate the inertia if she wanted to walk away from this encounter rather than limp. Now that her hearing had returned, she could tell just how distressed it really was. The screaming and sloshing as it thrashed in what she assumed was agony was deafening - but it seemed like her ordeal was over. Now she just needed Sonic and Knuckles to get the chaos emerald back out of the shrine and-

Cobalt lightning crackled around the shrine, the master emerald pulsing with power and spinning in place. A flash of blinding light painted the chamber white and Amy threw up her arms to shield her eyes.

Before she risked opening them again, though, a roar shook her to the bone. It was the same sound as the Biolizard had made when she’d damaged it, only lower pitched. 

She whirled, hammer in hand ready to deal what she hoped was the killing blow, and was met not with the defeated form she had left, but one that had reared back to let out one last yell. With the beast on its back legs the looseness of its skin was more prominent, the disproportionate nature of its form more obvious. The pressure it was exerting on its stubby legs made them shake, the open wounds all over its body weeping, blood and pus running over the ripples and folds of its body. 

Her stomach churned, but before her mind could comprehend the truely sickening parts of its visage, a flash of blue enveloped it, and it was gone.

Turning back to the shrine, she took the steps two at a time, reaching Sonic and Knuckles at the Master Emerald’s plinth. “What was that?”

Sonic opened his mouth to speak, but the answer never came. The ARK pitched to the side, the artificial gravity of the ship momentarily failing, suspending them above the ground. “Since we’ve stopped the Chaos Emeralds… why is the space colony still on a crash course to Earth?” Knuckles managed before gravity kicked back in, throwing him, Sonic, and Amy to the ground.

“The prototype is still alive, and he’s controlling the space colony as its falling to Earth!” Eggman announced through the ARK’s communication system. This new information settled like a brick in Amy’s stomach as the trio staggered to their feet. She’d failed to kill the biolizard, and now, it was going to destroy the Earth anyway. All that she’d been through, all that she’d done… It was all for nothing, after all. “He’s become one with the space colony, and is determined to keep it on its collision course!”

Dumbfounded, she looked to Knuckles. He was the guardian of the Master Emerald - surely, there was something he could do? But the echidna wasted no time in turning to Sonic. The blue blur stared his friend down for a beat, his grass-green eyes flickering to Amy and back, as if considering something but discounting it before it had even had time to gestate. “I need to go super,” the hedgehog announced, taking a step towards the master Emerald. “But I don’t know if I can do this on my own.”

Her body moved before her mind could catch it. The pink hedgehog stepped forward, hammer evaporating into smoke, hands balling to fists. “Let me try, too!” There was no room for argument in her tone, but that didn’t stop her blue beau from trying.

“Ames, no, you can’t-”

“You don’t know that! Just because I haven’t before doesn’t mean I can’t!” His eyes were wide with shock, and something else. Awe, she hoped, but equally it could have been disbelief. When he sighed and held his hand out for her to take, though, she knew it didn’t matter. He was going to let her try, and that meant that at the very least, he believed there was a chance.

She took it, the pair raising their hands above their heads and studying the ceiling of the shrine. Like icicles forming on a window sill, their energy seeped from the stonework, forming the seven gems that had started this mess, and would give them the power to end it.

The emeralds descended, hovering for a moment before spinning faster and faster around them.

She could feel it. The tumultuous power, crashing into her like waves. The eddies lapped at her, like ice water around her ankles, and rose steadily until she thought she might drown. The emeralds were moving so fast now that they were a blur. It was impossible to tell one from another. Another wave of chaos energy crashed into her, almost knocking her to her knees - but she stood strong in its onslaught, feeling the cold sink past her skin, chill her blood and freeze her bones. 

White light flashed from between them, hands separating as the power split. Sonic glowed with the golden light of his super form, and Amy too shone, but with a rose-tinted gold of her own. The frigid chill of chaos energy was nothing like her own rage. So alien, so… different. So… other. It was somehow both exhilarating and terrifying. 

Sonic seemed to take it all in his stride - but then, he had been super before, hadn’t he? She’d always wondered what it felt like, and now that she had experienced it, she could understand how he used this power to save the world all those times before.  

Sonic shot her his signature cocky grin, pointing to the roof. Up and out. She nodded, and the duo crouched in unison, extending their legs as if to jump, but instead shooting clean through the walls of the cannon core. 

When Eggman had informed them that the biolizard had ‘become one’ with the ARK, Amy had been sure that he was exaggerating. The truth, however, was much more horrifying than she’d imagined.

Its flesh had wrapped itself around the muzzle of the eclipse cannon, the once loose folds of skin stretching and contorting to accommodate its new metal appendage. It was dragging the space colony with it, under what steam she didn’t know, and was headed straight for the planet she called home. 

“Sonic, Amy! Can you hear me?” Eggman’s voice boomed. “He’s very weak without his life support system. Aim for the red swellings to damage him! You’re our last hope!”

Weak without his life support… Her hunch had been right! The device was keeping it alive, and now, with the machine broken, they at least had a chance of winning. 

The hedgehogs shared a knowing look - one that held the promise to win, or die trying - and shared a definitive nod. 

Sonic blasted off, a trail of light marking his path as he weaved towards the monster. It was slow, cumbersome, but even so, if one of its limbs connected… she dreaded to think what the damage could be. 

They had to do this quickly.

As Sonic ploughed into the first of the swellings, bursting through the thin layer of skin, Amy realised that she hadn’t moved. She’d been staring, horrified at what was in front of her. 

She shook herself, furrowing her brows. She couldn’t just float here and do nothing. 

It didn’t take long to find another of the sores Eggman had mentioned - the thing was riddled with them - but before she pushed off to make her first attack, something caught her eye. 

Beneath its mass, a glow was building. Amethyst and ruby and aquamarine. It was mesmerising, and as it roiled and grew, she wondered what is was. 

Her question was answered as the orb grew and stretched out towards her, a beam of searing energy missing her by mere inches. It was danger. It was pain. It was certain death. 

A fire having been lit under her, she flew in a wide arc towards the pustule she was now aiming for, careful to keep an eye out for the beam of energy now that she knew it was capable of such a feat. The closer she got, though, the more its flailing limbs and snapping jaws made her hesitate. Even with her super form, the hurdle of failure loomed large above her, every time she hadn’t been strong enough, or fast enough playing on repeat in her mind. 

She rolled out of the way as one of its arms thrashed at her, the disorientation of unfamiliar momentum causing her to bounce off its scaly hide and careen down its spine to float to a halt only a meter or so before it merged with the ARK. 

Silently, she cursed herself. How could she help Sonic to kill this thing if she couldn’t even get close enough to its weak spots to do anything? 

It was then that she spotted it - the blistered skin just past the curve of its side. A glance to its head confirmed that the beast was preoccupied with Sonic, and from this angle, it wouldn’t be able to get her with the beam until it was too late - for it, at least. 

With speed she hadn’t possessed before the boost of the Chaos Emeralds, she launched herself around and ploughed into the thin, inflamed skin. It burst with enough force to fire her towards its head, her inert body tumbling head over heels at speed. In space, there was no friction to slow her, no end in sight to the vomit-inducing spinning. Not, at least, without some intervention.

From seemingly no where, its huge head swung towards her faster than it had any right to be capable of. She lifted her arms to cross over her face defensively knowing that she hadn’t the time to move, and was launched by the force of its nose connecting with her ribs.

She was like a pinball in a machine  - moving at blinding speed with a trajectory that would inevitably result in collision.

And collide she did.

The ARK loomed large as she careened towards it, her form tumbling in the vast emptiness of space. Dizziness crept in on her, but before it could take hold, pain blossomed across her back and shoulder.

She’d slammed into the ARK, and from the crunching and crackling coming from behind her, she’d likely hit a window. That, or she’d done more damage to herself than she thought.

“Ouch,” she whimpered. The sound was half-reflexive, half-genuine, as she cradled the shoulder that had taken the brunt of the hit. “That thing really packs a punch…”

With a groan, she propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Sonic ploughed into the beast that had just thrown her like a ragdoll. She felt so useless. Managing to absorb enough Chaos energy to transform had been a shock, as had defending herself against the prototype of Shadow before it had teleported outside, but even now, after all of those achievements she was starting to feel like she wasn’t enough to fix this. 

Her nails bit into her palms even through the padding of her gloves. Giving up was the easy route, the one she’d sworn she’d abandoned back when she’d helped Gamma fight its programming. She had to keep trying, or else what had all of this been for? 

She took a long, slow inhale, filling her lungs to the brim and holding the breath for a second to centre herself, then released it in a steady, foggy stream. The world needed saving, and while she trusted that Sonic would do his best, she didn’t want him falling short because she’d thrown in the towel.

Gingerly, she rolled onto her stomach, aware of every slight movement as pinpricks of pain rolled through her. Were it not for the lack of gravity, she wondered if she would even have managed that, let alone bring her knees up to kneel on the observation deck window.Now that she’d been given the chance to stop, the adrenaline that had brought her this far was waning and the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Maintaining a super form was so tiring… how did Sonic do this?

Knowing that she couldn’t let herself be swept to shore, that she had to stay in the sea of energy until the danger had passed, she forced herself to open her eyes. At first, all she saw was her own reflection staring back at her through a spiderweb of cracks in the glass. But, as her eyes adjusted, she saw something else. Someone else. 

Shadow. And he was staring back at her, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

He’d underestimated her ability, just like everyone else did, and had expected her to perish long before this point. That had to be it.

One, last act of defiance, then. Before she ended this fight and did what so many thought was impossible for her. 

She pushed herself off the window of the lab, threw her arms behind her, and stuck her tongue out at the ultimate lifeform with gusto, before turning and flying back to where Sonic was fighting the biolizard.

 It was childish, she knew, but his perception of her was the last thing she was worried about right now.

More of the pustules that covered the lizard had been ruptured, she noted, which felt like it would at least help. If this behemoth was capable of feeling pain, it had to be in agony by now. Wounds wept, blood and pus and chaos energy oozing from each and every one. This thing, relentless as it was, had to be put out of its misery.

She balled her fists, ready to weave her way towards the monster and hit more of its sores. Sonic had managed to destroy so many of them, and she didn’t want to end up as just the distraction again. She’d done so much today, been through so much. Now wasn’t the time to trip over the hurdle.

She flew towards the beast, feeling every injury she’d sustained so far screaming at her to stop, that she’d done enough, and she could call herself a hero now. But heroes didn’t give up just because they had a few bruises and cuts, or because they’d been thrown around like a rag doll. Heroes kept going. 

With the lack of resistance from the expanse of space, she gained speed quickly, tearing through the chasm between her and her target, but in her periphery, something caught her attention. A white-gold glow - not Sonic’s gold, nor her own rose-gold, but a new one. 

It was Shadow, and he was in his super form. 

“What- what are you-”

“This thing is my prototype,” he began, his blood-red eyes focused on the biolizard. “It’s time I prove my superiority.”

He burst forward, leaving her to trail behind as he slammed into one of the sores at speed she struggled to see, let alone emulate, and when he was thrown backwards by the force of its skin splitting, he didn’t pause to look for another. He used the arc of his trajectory to fly around it, looking for another spot to damage.

This was the difference between her and real fighters, she thought to herself. For all she knew, this was Shadow’s first time in a super form too. And he was dealing with it so much better than she was. Granted, he didn’t need to fight so hard to change the direction he moved in with the help of his air shoes, but something about the ease with which he moved, the confidence… she was jealous. 

“Can both of you hear me!?” Eggman yelled. There was panic in his voice, and Amy couldn’t in good conscious say she blamed him for it. “Atmosphere entry in about 4 minutes! Hurry!”

There it was. Four minutes. 240 seconds. Barely any time left to save the world. 

She summoned her hammer, determined not to fall behind. It felt so light to her now, with chaos energy coursing through her veins, but that just meant she could put more of her strength into the swing.

There was a pustule where its skin met the ARK that Sonic and Shadow seemed to have missed. She pivoted towards it, swinging her hammer above her head ready to deal her first blow. As soon as she was close enough, the hammer smashed into the skin, eliciting a screech of pain from the beast as it thrashed in agony. It swung its clawed hands at Sonic, missing by at least three feet, and did the same to Shadow, failing to catch him with its claws. 

Its head whipped around, more sluggish than it had been when it had thrown her into the observation deck window, and the motion tore its skin.

Now that she looked more closely, the movement of its arms had torn the skin at its shoulders, too.

It was falling apart, right in front of their eyes. 

Sonic and Shadow looked frantically for another swelling to hit, another weak point to attack, but their lack of movement told her they found nothing. The end was nigh.

Amy floated to the broken device on its back, seeing that it still crackled and fizzed with electricity even now. The wires that remained attached still trailed its body, inert and empty of life-giving energy. She jammed the handle of her hammer under the unit, using the head as a lever, and separated the metal oval from the biolizard with a crunch. She reeled back.

The hammer connected with the unit, sending it careening towards the biolizard’s head, tearing the wires out of itself, or out of the biolizards skin. 

The explosions from it started small. The size of a basketball, perhaps, or a little larger, but they seemed to set off a chain reaction.

The three hedgehogs dispersed, re-convening to watch as the monster went up in flames.

It was dead. The Earth was safe.

They’d done what had felt impossible just fifteen minutes ago.

As the three of them regarded each other, Sonic and Amy looking battered, bruised, and exhausted, they couldn’t help but smile. “We did it…” Amy breathed, releasing her hammer for it to disperse into smoke.

“We did,” Sonic beamed. There was something in his smile - relief, maybe, and pride - that she hadn’t expected. She’d thought he was so sure they could do this. He’d given no reason for her to think otherwise. But it seemed as though he hadn’t been as confident as she’d thought.

Shadow huffed, crossing his arms and turning his gaze to Amy. “Was that outcome in doubt?” To him, it seemed as though it wasn’t. Like the moment he was involved in something, it would go exactly as he planned.

“Heh, maybe not,” Sonic said. His smile grew wider, another small laugh escaping him, before he pointed to the ARK with his thumb. “We’d best get back, or the others will wonder what happened!”

He was gone before either of them could speak. Amy turned to Shadow, ready to chastise Sonic in his absence, but found that the surly being was staring intently at her. She couldn’t meet his eyes, instead looking away and scratching at the side of her head.

She’d slapped him, made faces at him, and now, it seemed, she owed him an apology. But first, she had to ask him something.

“What made you decide to help?” She blurted, chancing a glance at him and finding that he was still staring. His eyes flickered away from her then, though - the smallest hint of embarrassment on his face.

“I… I don’t know.” He said, but with the way his eyes searched the speckled sky, she wasn’t so sure that was the whole truth. “Maybe your words just needed time to sink in.”

All she could muster was a tired smile. She wished she could be more energetic, her usual enthusiastic self, about this change of heart. But everything was taking its toll. She was exhausted. She could feel her eyes fluttering, and she ached everywhere. “Well, I’m glad you came to your senses, Shadow,” she managed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We couldn’t have done it… without… you…”

The world seemed to blur. The stars that had been so sharp, so defined, only moments ago. Now, they looked like street lamps through a rainy window, particles dancing in ways she knew couldn’t be real, but they mesmerised her all the same. It made her realise just how tired she was. How leaden her limbs felt. If she could just… close… her eyes…

They closed for a moment, the white-gold of Shadow’s super form disappearing and reappearing further away. But he didn’t seem to be moving. He was facing the ARK, but the jets of his shoes were off, and his posture hadn’t changed from when she had last seen him.

Ah. She was the one moving. She could see it now. Her own glow was gone, and the stars were getting smaller. She was falling. Falling towards the Earth. And worst of all, she didn’t even had the energy to panic. The bliss of exhaustion had fogged her mind, and falling felt like the rest she needed.

She blinked again. The white-gold of Shadow’s form was closer now. Had she stopped falling? No, something told her that she was still plummeting. Maybe it was the angle he was at? She wasn’t sure.

The only thing she knew for certain was that he looked terrified. Ruby eyes were wide, mouth open in a yell, gloved hand outstretched as if he were begging for her to take it. But she couldn’t. It was too much. She was too tired. 

The world went dark.

Everything ached. Her back, her shoulder, her legs. Everything. Even her eyelids seemed to ache, but she needed to open them. The murmuring around her was deafeningly loud and too quiet for her to understand all at once, with a peal of piercing ringing permeating both. Would the light of the world be that bit too much? The thing that overwhelmed her senses? She hoped not. She needed to know if they’d succeeded - if the biolizard was dead. Somewhere in the soupyness of her waking mind, she thought they had - but everything was fuzzy from the point she’d hit the ARK.

Cautiously, she cracked an eyelid open slowly, testing her surroundings in the smallest increment possible. Once one eye was fully open, she chanced the other. Everything was so blurry. The blobs of colour that crowded around her reminded her of her friends. Blue, yellow, red… and white, too. The bat that had helped them was that shade of white, she recalled. Rouge, was it? That sounded right. 

Her head lolled towards the blue smear, each blink sharpening her unfocused gaze. 

“Did… we win?” She croaked, voice hoarse. 

“Ames! You’re awake!” Sonic rushed to kneel beside her, brows drawn in concern and worry in his eyes as they came into view. “How you feelin’?”

This was the most attentive he’d ever been, she thought to herself. It was… nice. The attention from her crush. But something about it didn’t feel as good as she always thought it would. She must have hit her head harder than she thought. 

“I’m fine.” She sounded so weak. “I guess I have you to thank for that, though.” She managed a smile as he helped her to her feet, almost falling when her knee gave way and he caught her. The worry seemed to spread on his features, but he was trying to mask it. She could tell, from the way he tried to force his face back into the cocky grin he usually sported. 

“Nah, Ames,” he breathed. “We were almost beat, but then Shadow showed up and finished the thing off. I started back to the ship, and then…” the words died in his throat, his green eyes shifting guiltily before he turned to look to his left, away from the observation deck windows and towards the shadows that enveloped the entrance to the room. “You… you passed out. And Shadow saved you. He caught you before you - before you fell.”

It was all coming back to her now. His face as he hurtled towards her, eyes wide and full of fear. 

She followed Sonic’s gaze, her own settling on the hedgehog who was mostly obfuscated by the dark. Shadow. He’d saved her life, even after what she’d said, what she’d done - oh, Gaia, she’d slapped him, hadn’t she? 

Her legs felt like jelly again. Of all the individuals to piss off, she’d chosen Shadow, and not only that, but it seemed like he’d forgiven her too. You didn’t save someone you disliked, did you? But then, he had saved the humans, or at least helped to, and he claimed to hate them. 

“I- I see.” She choked out. She swallowed hard and chewed nervously on her lip. She had to apologise. That had to be the first thing she said to him. But how do you do that? Maybe ‘sorry for slapping you for trying to blow up the Earth’ was enough, she wondered, but shook the thought from her head. As soon as she could stand on her own, she needed to have an answer. 

“Yeah, it was weird,” Sonic mused, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the real world. “By the time I realised, he was already half way to you, and he looked-”

“Worried,” Amy said, and he nodded in agreement.

Amy sighed. Of all the things she’d had to do today, of all the fears she’d faced… Apologising to, and thanking, the one who’d saved her seemed to be the hardest one. 

She tested putting her weight on her legs. A part of her was pleased that any damage wasn’t permanent, but a small part of her still dreaded the conversation she was about to have. With a weak smile to Sonic, she limped over to her saviour. 

He was sat against a wall, seeming to be fixated on a spot in the middle of the floor with a barely perceptible frown on his brows.

“Hey.”

He startled, and jerked his head up to meet her eyes.

“Hello.” His gaze was… intense. A vermillion blaze that felt like it would burn her where she stood. But this time, the heat was… comforting. Like a blanket on a cold night, or… like her own, well restrained rage that burned below the surface. He was like her, she realised. Someone who held part of themselves at bay for fear it would be too much. 

He motioned to the ground next to him. She swallowed hard again, hurrying to settle against the wall and almost forgetting to tuck her dress under her. As she settled, glancing over to her friends who hurried to pretend they hadn’t been staring, her usually steady hands shook.

She didn’t look at him initially. She was too ashamed of herself, and it seemed like he had no desire to break the silence either. 

“I’m sorry I-”

“I shouldn’t have-” 

They spoke in unison, stopping as soon as they realised they were talking over each other. Silence fell again. After a few moments, he waved her on. 

Her throat felt dry. She knew that he didn’t hold her actions against her. He wouldn’t have saved her if he really disliked her. But navigating this conversation would be difficult regardless. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “What made you do it?” She began, chancing a look at him. Those eyes were upon her again, those eyes that simmered with an anger that she now understood was not for her. “I mean- what… Why did you come and help me and Sonic? I thought that you… that you wanted the Earth to be destroyed?”

His gaze lingered for a moment, shifting from one eye to the other and then cutting away to look back at the floor. “Humans are awful.” The silence that dragged out made her think that perhaps he wanted her to say something, but she didn’t know what. “I would have had no remorse if they had all met their end today. I wanted it, even, and you know that, but…” his voice petered out, as if he didn’t want to verbalise what he was about to say. He let out an exasperated sigh. “But you… you were ready to die for them. For people you don’t know, for people who don’t know you and don’t care about you.”

He turned back to her, eyes searching her face, as if he would find something written there that would put his mind at ease.

 A smile spread across her face, a tiny laugh whispering past her lips. “Thank you, Shadow. That… that means a lot.”

He gave a kurt nod, moving to stand, but she caught his arm and his attention again. As he looked back to her, something pressed against his cheek. Something soft. Something soothing. 

It was her lips, pressed delicately against the cheek she had slapped only hours before. 

She sank back to sit against the wall, a self-satisfied smile still on her lips, as his own face started to burn. 

She’d kissed him. This girl, who he’d snarled at and insulted. Who had stung his face with her palm. Had kissed him. 

And, stranger still, it had left him wondering what the sensation would feel like had she caught his lips rather than his cheek, as his face began to burn.

Thanks for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed this fic :)

[ejzah]

As promised, here is a summary of my experience at Epic Cons Chicago and meeting Eric! I’m including some of the pictures I took (with poor attempts to censor my face). Heads up, this is a long post.

I started off early in the morning with a long drive since I’m a scaredy cat and avoid the expressway as much as possible. The convention center was very full when I arrived and it took about 50 minutes for me to register because the process didn’t seem well-organized, so that wasn’t the most fun.

But after that, I was on my way to watch Eric’s panel! The panel he appeared on, had actors from several different shows, so he wasn’t asked that many questions. As usual though, he was charming and disarming. One fan asked everyone what word they would use to describe their character and I believe Eric chose “fearless vulnerability”, which is technically two words, but so very in character for Eric. I always love listening to him talk about Deeks and the depth that he infused into the character.

I have a few poorly filmed videos from the panel that I can share if you message me. I’d rather not post them just in case my account would get deactivated again. I thought of asking a question myself, but chickened out.

After that I had a very long break before my next event, so I got some tacos from a little place inside convention center. I’d give them a 5/10. They were overpriced, pretty tiny, and overall mediocre.

Now on to the really good parts!

Next I attended a meet and greet with Eric. I was super nervous leading up to it, and kind of regretted the tacos at that point. About ten of us were ushered into a small private room with chairs set up in a circle. We were instructed not to take any videos, picture, etc, before the start, so I don’t have any additional content. Eric came in a few minutes later and ended up sitting one seat over from me (😱), which was pretty darn distracting for me.

After telling us he’d never done a meet and greet before, answered several questions and chatted with us. One of the things that really struck me was just as with every video and interview I’ve seen over the years, is that Eric was so genuine, honest, and generous.

In answer to questions, he talked about the last few seasons and why there were some irregularities. Such as that the show was supposed to end after season nine and each season after that was considered a bonus and based on ability to form a tight budget. He also confirmed that none of them knew what was in “the box” aside from possibly Shane Brennan.

The greet part of the event went by far too quickly, and before we knew it, one of the volunteers announced it was time for the selfie portion. Fortunately, another fan noticed I had been trying to ask a question and spoke up for me.

Before I asked my question, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to shoutout wikiDeeks first. Eric really lit up and expressed how much he appreciated the hard work and thought put into the writing and contributions. He brought up an episode many fans had issues with (we figured out it was probably from the FLETC episode that shall go unnamed), and said he showed a piece of wikiDeeks writing to the writers/TPTB and basically said that it was deeper and better writing. I believe that might have been @anonkp’s wonderful work! In general, he was very appreciative and complimentary of everyone at wikiDeeks. He’s so very gracious!

We were really short on time, but I did get to ask the question “what would you change about Deeks if you could?” Eric couldn’t come up with a response on the spot, so he asked me the same question in return. I told him I didn’t think anything needed to be changed about Deeks, but didn’t always enjoy how silly he was written in later seasons.

Eric shared that he tried to play those moments in a way that put Deeks in on the joke instead of being the butt of the joke as much as he could. Unfortunately, he didn’t always have that luxury.

During our conversation, Eric was very engaging and attentive. For those couple minutes, I forgot to be nervous because he made the atmosphere so comfortable. It felt like he genuinely cared about what I was saying. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to emphasize how much I appreciate Eric’s acting and portrayal of Deeks.

After that, it was selfie time! When it was my turn, Eric bent down to my level (oh my lord he’s tall), naturally in my usual awkward way, I bent down too. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Hopefully Eric saw it as charming rather than incredibly silly and awkward. Hey, at least I made him laugh, right?

He’s so beautiful!

If any fans on here were present for the meet and greet, please let me know if I forgot anything or misremembered events. My memory is often faulty.

I also chose to get a professional shot with Eric and for that one I got a hug! I’m still not over it yet.

It was a really long day and a lot of driving, but so worth it for the chance to meet and talk with Eric. And, I’m pretty sure I came out this experience even more of a fan of Eric than ever.

[inuhalfdemon]

You Caught Me At Just The Rut Time

My contribution to a Hazbin Fandom Challenge I created: here

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Rating: MATURE (Smut)

Word Count: 3,193 Words

Summary: You are a female red deer demon. By chance, you happen to meet Hell's great radio demon and the timing could never be more...perfect.

Note: This is not aroace Alastor; at least not for the moment. It gets pretty smutty in here...

You are a red deer hind/doe demon. You’ve been in Hell for some time now; but are still learning the in’s and the out’s in surviving this after-life. There’s been a lot of talk and stirring with the events surrounding the Hazbin Hotel following the war with Adam. Charlie Morningstar is hosting a kind of Open House event to welcome any and all potential new clients who wish to tread her planned path to redemption. Having nothing really better to do and seeing on one of the advertisements – scrawled messily in crayon – that there would be free booze, you decide ‘what the hell’ and go to check it out.  

There is a decent turnout; demons and sinners all curious about this new development and wanting to know more. Most – of course – have nefarious reasons to being here but the Princess of Hell is pleased as punch, just the same. As soon as you are able; you excuse yourself to the bar and order a drink. The bartender – a Hell demon cat with intricate wings - is expertly taking orders and sending drinks out promptly to all the patrons. A little – ‘bug?’ – demon is scurrying about the place; cleaning in a frenzy and collecting empty glasses to take back to behind the bar counter. The bartender quickly pours your drink and with a flick of his feathered tail; he has it sliding right into the palm of your clawed hand before starting on the next in line.

Most of the others are grouped among themselves – conversing – throughout the hotel lobby. Some are meandering or exploring the new building; talking with the current residents. The corner of the bar where you sit is relatively quiet. Stirring your drink with one clawed finger, you amuse yourself by watching everyone.

When someone approaches your part of the room; you are surprised to find that it is in fact Hell’s infamous Radio Demon – Alastor. Despite his wide smile and buoyant attitude; everyone parts from him as if they were the Red Sea, giving him a more than respectable space as he comes to lean over the bar counter near you.

“Husker, my good man.” Alastor calls to the bartender. “A rye, if you would.” His voice crackles in old-timey radio.

Without so much as acknowledging the Overlord’s presence; the winged demon cat uses his tail to pour from a bottle into a whiskey glass containing some ice beside him – his hands busy preparing other drinks. He had seen Alastor making his way to the bar and was ready for the order. Curling his tail around the glass, he set it on the counter and flicked it smoothly to him just as he had for you.  

“I very much thank you, my friend.” Alastor lifted the glass; and sipped. Husker ignored him; focusing on what he was doing.

You watch this interaction with interest; comparing it to how others now were giving your corner of the bar a very wide berth.

Alastor took his seat; sitting at the bar stool just next to yours. He shifts himself so that he is casually watching the goings-on of the grouping of demons and sinners throughout the room; but he has one long ear – the one nearest you – slightly turned and rotated toward you. It is an invitation to engage in conversation…if you wish.

You assess him briefly – wondering if he really, truly is a red deer demon. They are not terribly uncommon in Hell, but some only resemble the form of a Cervidae. It can be tricky to tell; even for those who are. If he is a Cervidae – he’s a very powerful one. And, it’s obvious to you that’s not all that he is. You – yourself - are very athletic, agile, clever and quick due to being the type of demon that you are but he – he emanated a type of power that could never be fully comprehended.

“It’s a good turnout.” You offer; initiating conversation with him.

“Why, yes. It really is. Charlie should be proud.” He replied happily; shifting now so that he is politely engaged with you.

“You’ll have a time…can’t say there are many here that look like they’ll make the cut.” You sip from your drink.

“Oh, I’m fully prepared to deal with some of the riff-raff, believe you me.” He chuckled into his drink. “Have your sights set on high, yourself, darling?”   

“Hm…not really. The thought of redemption really doesn’t interest me much.” You reply, honestly.

“Well, that bodes all too well for me…” He says, eyes firmly fixed on you.

 And, there it is. A hint of…a scent. Cervidae demons – true Cervidae – demons are commonly known for their deer-like tendencies. One very prominent one being that they experience fluctuating periods of cyclic mating periods – termed the rut. There’s a lot that gets rather muddled with this natural occurrence; confusing even for the demons that experience it because each and every individual is different in the timing, frequency or intensity of their own personal mating cycles.

You know that the scent that you caught – be it just a whiff – is a musk. A musk that red deer stags produce when they are…interested. It is a pheromone that only other Cervidae demons can detect. Incidentally, you are aware that you yourself are currently…receptive…and that you are producing your own pheromone that he can easily detect in your response.

Your body reacts to this development rather quickly. A flooding of hormones, cascading and overwhelming your senses. You feel the hair on your head and at the base of your tail bristling, rising slightly. Your mouth has gone dry and your heart rate has sharply increased.

He laughs lightly; reading your response. Throwing back the rest of the whiskey before setting the empty glass onto the counter.

“Do not trouble yourself, Husker.” Alastor called over his shoulder as the bartender reached for another whiskey glass with his tail. “That will be all for me this evening, I think.”

Smoothly, Alastor slides from his seat at the bar.

“I’d very much like to show you more of our amenities here.” He tells you, offering his hand. “If you’d be so inclined…” His musk trailing off of him; becoming more potent.

The message is crystal clear; and he’s offered you an easy out. You are free to politely decline, walk away from this…proposal. Honestly though, you could do with a decent fuck. And, everything this radio demon is promises a rather good one. 

“Aren’t you a little too old for me?” You ask him; though he’s more than fully aware that really won’t pose any sort of an issue here.

“Quite so.” He admits. “I assure you though, I am quite spry.

Throwing back your own drink, you take his offered hand, letting him chivalrously help you down from your bar stool and following him out of the lobby of the hotel. Other demons and sinners move readily out of your way, so intent on ducking and avoiding the attention of the smiling Overlord that no one notices you leaving with him. The other residents of the hotel are so caught up in their own tasks with ensuring that the Open House is a success, they pay absolutely no mind to Alastor’s departure from the event.

Alastor leads you to his room; a lone door standing, eerily placed within the entirety of the hotel’s 13th floor.

He pauses at the doorway with you; considering you seriously.

“You are sure?” He asks you; his musk surrounding you entirely: heightening your arousal. “I can and will stop at any time you tell me.” He says. “But, it has been some time...for me. This could get…intense.”  His eyes are burning; a soft deep green glow penetrating the soft light of the hallway. His antlers had thickened at their bases, points lengthening, widening as he spoke.

Despite everything. Despite his obvious readiness at having you, taking you now; here, at the very peak of his rut… Despite the absolute betrayal that was your own body telling him how receptive you were right now; how ready you were for him. He was giving you this last and final chance…to walk away. You knew what this was; you knew what this would be…and you readily accepted the terms.

If anything, the deal was only made sweeter by his considerations. Most stags are so consumed by the intensity of their rut; they struggle with restraints. Hind/does too.

Struggling with your own senses – now – you swiftly close the gap between you and him. In one quick movement; you leap so that he when he catches you; you are wrapped around him, your legs hugging his waist and your arms winding around his neck. Quick as a whip, he saw you coming and easily pulls you into him. Your momentum presses his back into the doorway. You are kissing him in a desperate way; any thought of reservations melting quickly away. He matches your fervor; his tongue pressing between parting lips and finding yours.

He breaks the kiss briefly and you realize that he is pulling you with him into the hotel room now; the door having opened without you noticing.

“A good little doe…” He muses; carrying you into the room. Stepping inside, he spins so that it is you that is now pressed against the door; it closing behind you as he pushes you firmly against it.

He presses himself against you; pushing you into the wood. You can feel his erection; pressing into you through clothing. You tighten the hold on him that you have with your wrapped legs; moving your hands into his hair, you ball your clawed fingers into fists and begin pulling and biting at his lower lip.

The prod pressing into you starts to become more firm and carefully breaking away from you; he sets you down, steps back and starts to loosen his bowtie. As he slips out of his suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt, you slide out of your own. It lands at a heap on the floor. Looking at him, you briefly register all of his raised and jagged scars – covering his body - but then you suddenly realize that you are standing near a very old and intricately styled mirror. You blush slightly, seeing your aroused reflection looking back at you from its surface.

He chuckles darkly, pressing you back into the door with his long body standing, pushed against you.

“You’re not a shy doe are you?” He purrs into one of your erect long deer ears, one of his clawed hands softly but firmly grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at the mirror.

You gulp, watching the reflection. He is poised over you; a predator enjoying the freezing state of fear he has induced in his prey. Your blush only deepens when he presses into you more; his bare skin touching yours; his member pressing much more sharply into your thigh. You watch yourself reacting to all of this – just as he meant you to – and you are only made more humiliated by the knowledge that all of it arouses you even more.

“You should see how pretty you are when I make you blush, my dear.” He holds your head tilted, making you watch through the mirror as he begins softly kissing, licking and biting at your exposed neck. You squirm and he laughs; soft puffs of breath touching your sensitive skin. Using his free hand, he slides clawed fingers underneath the fabric of your bra; finding a breast. He pinches your nipple and it sends a tightening jolt of pleasure into your belly that sinks lower and lower. Your face flushes deeper, a hint of a sheen of sweat breaking across your forehead.

You gasp and seeing how you do; sends you further into spiraling.

Mesmerized; you watch through the mirror as he releases your nipple – slipping his hand out from your bra - and reaches around, unclasping the hook easily with deft fingers. Still not releasing your face; he hooks the garment in one claw and tosses it aside. Leaning down; he softly kisses your tight, and firm nipples before taking one into his mouth and softly sucking.

“Ahhhhhh….” You breathe, squirming more.

“Hmmmmmm.” He hums, going to the next nipple and sucking again.

You’re quivering now and you’ve started panting. Your pheromone is absolutely pungent and it is making him almost dizzy with each inhale he takes. You see your obvious arousal but you also see his in response; his antlers are stretching, widening….his eyes are flaring a deeper shade of green and casting eerily moving shadows across your skin. Next you feel his erection; jutting from behind the dress pants he still wore – stabbing into you with much more urgency now.

He knows that he would find great pleasure from making you watch yourself – coming undone – by his having you; then and there. But, he also feels his little game overwhelming you now and knows that it really could be just too much. He shifts himself briefly; sliding his hand to the rim of your pants and experimentally pulls at the waistband with one claw. You see this happening through the mirror; a kind of panic grips your heart – knowing where this could lead – and your face jerks slightly as you flinch. This confirms it for him and he immediately releases you; allowing you to finally look away from the mirror.

The shadows move around you and there is a swirling vortex forming a portal just behind him. He steps back into it; reaching his hand out for you to take – if you are so willing – to follow him. Feeling more aroused than you could ever remember – and feeling an incredible adrenaline rush from the mirror play – you readily take it and let him lead you through the swirling dark.

You step onto a soft bed of spring grass, stars and moonlight overhead. Shocked and surprised; you turn all around and assess your surroundings. You were so…distracted…before you hadn’t realized that his room was actually a splitting of dimensions. Seeing the part of the room where the door and the mirror stood just further away now; you realize that he only moved you to a new location within the same hotel suite.

Fireflies skittered about; owls hooted and other soft nightly sounds were drifting from the surrounding swampland. The air smelled of cypress. The entirety of the environment was calling to your demon form; fueling it with an energy and pleasure you had not previously considered. With the scent of the cypress was the sharp scent of Alastor’s musk. Looking at him now, you saw that he was incredibly in need of some relief. Still wearing his dress pants, he was fully erect; his antlers still heavy and long upon his head; eyes flaring but looking at you narrowed and hazed.

Saying nothing, you go to him. Touching his waist, you look up at him – watching his reaction as you undo the clasp near the seam to his pants and slide your hand in. His eyes close and he groans; leaning into your touch. You slide his length out and nearly gasp at how…well…huge he is. It makes you more than a little apprehensive…he’s certainly the largest stag you’ll have ever been with. But, like him, you are fully aroused and are as ready for this as you ever will be.

Releasing him, you quickly start undoing your own pants; shoving them and your undergarments off as he hurriedly does the same for himself.

Knowing it will be the best position for what you both need from this; you kneel onto the soft bed of grass. He takes your face gently in his hand; looking at you with heightened arousal and a kind of…appreciation. Watching you, he moves so that he is stepping around and coming to settle himself behind you; also kneeling.

Your long ears flick back; bowing your head so that you can see him in your peripheral. He reaches for you; you expect him to push you down or forward but he pulls you into him so that your back is pressed against his chest. He slides his clawed hand to your neck, tilting your head back against him as he kisses and nips at your skin. His erection is pressed into your back and you can feel it tracing trails of pre-cum against you as he shifts. He wraps his other arm around you; pulling you closer into him as he firmly takes your breast; teasing your nipple into firmness in his fingers.

You can feel a sliding wetness between your legs and know that you are ready. You groan at his teasing and pushing yourself away from him so that you are now bent down; face to the ground rear raised. He follows you down; briefly touching and stroking your tail before positioning it comfortably out of the way from being inadvertently bent or crushed.

He rises himself on his knees and when he enters you; it’s a deep and blissful penetration. He slides himself in slowly; giving you a moment to adjust to his girth. You can feel a seeping of wet touching the inside of one thigh.

He makes a growling purr; deep in his chest.

“You are so…wet.” He groans, pressing his face into your back.

You don’t say anything; you focus on staying as relaxed as you can. He’s not too big but very nearly.  

Slowly, he starts to move – back and forth – and your body responds; adjusting. 

You are flooded with heat; a heavy sweat breaking out all across your skin. His musk is flooding your senses and you begin to moan pathetically….desperately. Your pheromones are affecting him as well; and he remembers telling you that: he could and would stop for you at any time - but he is praying to each and every of the seven deadly sins that you don’t ask him to.  

Your hands make fists in the grass; and you sink down lower.

This angle gives his length more to access and his tip is pressing, pushing and grinding against that oh so sweet spot you’ve got hidden inside. You can fill his shaft stiffening; filling his member curving inside you and it’s about to drive you both over the edge.

He grips your hips; claws digging painful, pleasantly into the skin: as he thrusts himself into you – deeper and deeper; grunting like the rutting animal he is.

Feeling a delicious coiling of tension; you arch yourself into him.

“Ffffffffuck!” He responds to the movement; his hips jerk sharply; jolting one or two more thrusts into you before he comes undone.

You’re already there; chemicals flood your senses as you reach orgasm. You feel his member stiffen; filling you up with its release before it softens again – your walls tightening and releasing all around it. You notice there is more wetness running down your legs now.  

Slowly, carefully, he slides himself out. You collapse into the ground, feeling boneless and weightless. You enjoy this feeling; letting it consume you completely knowing you’ll never have a fuck quite like this one ever again.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

medialog july 2k24

watched

the seven samurai - classic that holds up IMO!! like lawrence of arabia, one where you can see why basically every person to make a movie since cites it as a formative influence. lots of really beautiful shots but what really stood out to me was how human it felt - small scale but not in a way that means "minor," in a way that emphasizes that even the smallest of scales is everything to the people living it. every character feels so real and carries such a sense of a life lived, thanks to both the writing and the absolutely wonderful performances. it feels so empathetic and compassionate and warm even though it's ultimately a war movie - one of those movies where you get the sense a fundamental love for humanity is one of the animating creative impulses. also toshiro mifune, one of the hottest people ever to live, spends the back half of this movie, to quote nick, dressed like hercules with his ass hanging out and it's incredible.

tank girl - every single Look and Aesthetic in this movie is an absolute 100/10 and lori petty is a foul-mouthed delight, but wow was I not prepared for how much of this movie is about the discovery of a secret underground society of kangaroo people

read

megan whalen turner, the thief - a pair of friends of mine basically shoved this into my hands when i was at their apartment with the promise of great craft & an ending that goes crazy. the first in the series of six, this one is more or less a sturdy and fairly straightforward middle-grade adventure story, and while it was at times a little heavy on descriptions of the characters making their way across various types of terrain, overall my interest was sustained by a few things: a clean, deliberate writing style that washed me in nostalgia for the middle-grade classics of my own youth (which this could have been - it came out in 1996 - but somehow i never came across it); a setting deliberately out of any real historical time but clearly influenced in Vibes by (among other places) ancient greece, which contributed to the nostalgia; glimpses of a convincingly rendered mythology (and the fascinating choice, which continues throughout the series, to render the characters' occasional glimpses of the actual divine as more unsettling than anything else); and a wonderfully compelling set of characters, above all gen, the book's narrator and the series' central character (although not most of the books'), who as i said a while ago is a classic blend of clever, brave, and incredibly annoying to everyone he meets.

monique wittig, the straight mind - collection of essays by a french lesbian feminist/theorist i first heard of, to be very honest, because adele haenel was one of the panelists at an event at the local french bookstore and i wanted to see her in person, lmao. the first essay in the collection opens with a call to abolish the concept of sex, which is one of those claims i'm not sure i actually endorse or even fully understand but find really invigorating to read, all of which more or less applies to my experience of the collection as a whole (including the part where i was not sure i was always following it). i did particularly appreciate her interest as a writer (she was a novelist as well as a theorist) in language and the role it plays in upholding gender/the work of imagining a way to play a role in dismantling it. and i found her general rejection of "the myth of woman" quite bracing.

rick emerson, unmask alice: LSD, satanic panic, and the imposter behind the world's most notorious diaries - i heard about this book on an episode of you're wrong about before i stopped listening and it was in fact an incredibly entertaining and fascinating bit of light nonfiction about a truly bonkers episode in american publishing history. go ask alice is the obvious draw here, but a large chunk of the book is devoted to "editor" and professional liar beatrice sparks's follow-up, jay's journal, which emerson reveals to have, in fact, started as the actual diary of a suicidal teenager whose family entrusted it to her in the hopes that their dead son's pain might somehow be able to help other families prevent similarly tragic outcomes... only to have sparks expand his few dozen entries into a story of the absolute most insane satanic panic ground zero nonsense (this book predates michelle remembers!), but somehow leave in enough identifying details that everyone in the family's small mormon town knew exactly who it was about. truly truly monstrous and if emerson sometimes veers a little close painting sparks as a cartoon villain, it's honestly hard to blame him given how much time he spent contemplating this unbelievably heinous act.

courtney summers, i'm the girl - the simplest way to describe this book is to paraphrase the author in some interview i can't remember as a story about a girl who confuses beauty for power because that's what the world has told her is true; it's emotionally rough but highly readable, and as always i just so admire summers' lack of interest in morality tales or lessons learned, her keen understanding that having a sixteen-year-old being groomed come suddenly and fully into a perfect feminist analysis of what's happened to her would make the book more palatable to some but ultimately be a betrayal of the character she'd created. summers has alluded in her newsletter to this book, loosely based on research about the epstein/maxwell case & the testimony of their victims, closing the chapter on the first arc of her career as a writer - eight thorny, painful novels about interior lives of teenage girls struggling with themselves and the world they live in - and it feels like a fitting capstone, one that both calls on the skills she's developed over the years and feels like it digs even more deeply than the project into an area of interest that feels fitting for an author who started writing YA in her early 20s and is now in her late 30s, namely, how to write a book that makes space for real empathy with a young person naive enough - some might say, and indeed some have said, stupid enough - to be well and truly taken in? (and i think one of the smartest things the book does is foreground early on how badly its protagonist doesn't want to be thought of as stupid, which is part of what makes her vulnerable and part of what makes processing the reality of what's happening to her so difficult.) also, despite the fact that romance has never been a huge or simple part of summers's novels, she's always had a knack for crafting a YA dreamboat love interest, and as someone who it turns out was figuring out her sexuality in her 30s around the same time summers was - it was great to see her do it again but this time with a girl :)

ted chiang, exhalation - my friend recommended me this because i was looking to read more sci-fi short stories but running into my perennial problem with sci-fi which is that frequently the writing is bad. ted chiang is pretty good! i liked how much he clearly conceives of or intuits that form & story are one and the same - almost all the stories in this collection take the form of a document that has some in-world reason to exist, which keeps the style feeling fresh and which he often uses to merge character work & sci-fi concepts in a cool way (as in a story with the fascinating premise that creationism is real but earth is not god's favored planet). it was unfortunate that the longest story in the collection was by far my least favorite, being both the most subject to sci-fi bland prose disease and focused on a concept it is impossible for me to muster interest in (the ethics of digital sentience... they're pictures on a screen...). the last story, the only other one written in the third person, suffered a little stylistically as well, but made up for it with an INSANELY good premise, which is that it's a multiverse story focused on a variety of psychological challenges people might have in response to learning for sure parallel universes are real - there's a support group for people addicted to checking in on their parallel selves! that's the most awesome multiverse concept i have ever come across.

evelline adams, astrology for everyone - astrology got less fun when the ratio started shifting of people viewing it as A Fun Pretend Thing to people taking it very seriously, but i do retain the same aesthetic appreciation for the particular kitsch of vintage astrology writing that i did when i borrowed this from my friend several years ago.

patrick radden keefe, rogues: true stories of grifters, killers, rebels and crooks - a collection of 12 of keefe's new yorker #longreads that i read because (a) i liked empire of pain, his book on the sackler family, a lot (b) i'm trying to get back into my library ebook habit to keep me away from Scrolling and hopefully learn some things and substantive-but-still-easy-to-read journalistic nonfiction is my favorite genre for this purpose because i don't feel i lose anything by reading it in 5 minute snatches while waiting for the train, and (c) his other books had all the licenses checked out. anyway this gave me what i wanted! i think my favorite was the one about wine fraud just because i think wine fraud is funny because anyone shelling out crazy money on wine deserves to be scammed so it's basically a victimless crime. the book closes with his profile of anthony bourdain, which is a really lovely read although incredibly sad in retrospect because bourdain comes across as so full of life and would die the year after it was published.

megan whalen turner, the queen of attolia - book two in the series, and everything is growing up a bit, as we shift from an adventure story to a war story, from gen's narration to an expertly deployed omniscient/shifting third, and from an irrepressible protagonist to one Truly Going Through It. this book kicks off strong by opening with a set of circumstances that permanently and painfully changes gen's circumstances, and the question of how he's going to process this and move forward drives a lot of the emotional suspense of the book. it also upends our understanding of a character introduced in the first book en route to an absolutely insane romance that shouldn't work but in its quasi-mythical context absolutely does. i tend to prefer hard copies for fiction, but starting here and for every book after i got to the end and went straight to the library app so i could keep going.

megan whalen turner, the king of attolia - THIS BOOK SLAPS SO HARD IT'S UNBELIEVABLE!!!! at first you're like, WHY is the narration primarily focused on some random no-name member of the royal guard we have never met before? but then you realize it's so that the entire book can be propelled by the dramatic irony wherein we, readers of the series, know gen well at this point and also know exactly how and why things went down the way they did at the end of the last book, but almost no one else does and (partly because of the ways he is annoying) many assumptions are being made... so a lot of the "suspense" in this book comes from, like, when is this new guy's understanding of gen going to start aligning with ours? it's soooo cool and something i don't remember reading in a series before (although i don't read a ton of series), and this book is, like, relentlessly entertaining on its way to its insanely satisfying conclusion, and also contains two of the most romantic paragraphs i have read in my LIFE despite the fact that the couple they center on barely appears together in the book.

megan whalen turner, conspiracy of kings - we catch up with a character from the first book who's been having a rough go of it and now needs to toughen up a bit in response to his circumstances. i think as a novel this is maybe the weakest of the set but as a character i love my sweet baby sophos so much i would have read 500 more pages. also contains one of the DUDES ROCK scenes of all time.

megan whalen turner, thick as thieves - this one picks up with a minor character from book two that i was happy to see again, because he really punched above his weight in terms of interest. it kind of combines the adventure-story of the first book with the dramatic irony as suspense of the third, and both the narrator and the central dynamic between the two main characters are delightful. this book has the least gen of all the books and i did miss him but it was funny how intensely his whole Deal hung over the circumstances regardless, and also despite the fact that the ending of literally all of these books so far has involved the reveal of some five-dimensional chess magic trick, so to speak, and thus i knew logically it was coming, i once again found myself so swept up that i was fully :O when it all went down.

megan whalen turner, return of the thief - an incredibly satisfying ending to the series, even if it left me sad that it was over! as was often the case with these books, it was, like, so satisfying that part of me almost felt like it should feel like cheating... but it didn't and i was just so happy to be there rooting for all my close personal friends. also the narrator of this one is a new character who is both physically disabled and nonverbal, and a) i thought that was generally pretty cool and the way the text engaged with people underestimating him was interesting and b) the descriptions of him as a kid being fascinated by triangles & numerical patterns was THEE most endearing thing i have read in my life.

listened

willow, empathogen - i don't know why willow decided to put out the best tori amos record since scarlet's walk? but i'm glad she did, because this album rocks! (and, like, seriously, if you're a tori person, you owe it to yourself to check this out - the influence is strong and undeniable, IMO, and on its own merits the album sounds gorgeous and takes you on a rich and textured sonic journey, even if you do maybe get the sense that being the very rich daughter of two incredibly famous millionaires in the entertainment industry is an impediment towards having all that much to say as a lyricist.)

other

anna di resburgo - my friend had an extra ticket to a short-lived production of this, the only surviving bel canto opera by a woman (recently assembled for performance from its discovery in some archive). it was only her second aria and as per the program notes kind of flopped, possibly partly due to its thematic similarity with another opera first produced around the same time by donizetti, by then an acknowledged master of the form while di resburgo was a novice (she had previously composed one opera, which has since been lost, and none after, although iirc she did some other composition) (also disclaimer that i know very little about opera, like just barely enough for all that to kind of make sense to me lol). anyway the work is uneven and (as my friend pointed out) oftentimes the music, while pretty and sometimes interesting, is at odds tonally with the plot - the plot is in theory quite dramatic with life-or-death stakes but for much of the runtime the music feels more suited to a farce - and the libretto is... not a piece of well constructed drama overall or scene to scene or line by line (there are some, like, accidentally comical exposition dumps along the lines of "father, do you remember that mysterious orphan that showed up on our doorstep all those years ago?"). but it was not without its highlights, and we agreed that as a second outing it showed promise we wish the composer had received support for the way men with similarly Just Alright second operas did.

inwood shorts - we went with some friends (actually the same friend as above) to see some shorts by local filmmakers at a place in inwood with an incredible view of the river featuring on that day an unbelievably gorgeous sunset and while nothing really wowed me a nice time was had by all & there was a big laugh in the crowd when the guy in a short giving a little "tour of my neighborhood" schtick said "for a while i lived in this place upstate called yonkers." :)

[mimisempai]

I started missing you the moment you said goodbye

Summary

Aziraphale calls Crowley every hour on his phone even though he knows the demon can't answer just to hear his voice on the answering machine.

Because a few hours away is worse than centuries when you know you love each other.

Notes

A minute or a hundred years, the absence is sometimes unbearable...

On Ao3

Rating G -  942 words

"You have 10 missed calls and 1 new message.

Ten missed calls. 

All from Aziraphale.

He'd only left a voicemail for the last call.

Crowley glanced at his phone several times, a little confused.

If it had been urgent, he would have known one way or another, and Aziraphale wouldn't have used this means to reach him.

But Aziraphale had called him ten times.

Once an hour.

The length of Crowley's absence.

The planetarium had organized an out-of-town event, a lecture series culminating in a night of stargazing, and Crowley had been invited by the board to contribute. Encouraged by Aziraphale, he'd accepted, which meant that the angel knew it would be impossible for him to take the calls, so Crowley wondered why he'd called him in the first place. To find out, he waited no longer and dialed the code to listen to Aziraphale's message.

"Um... Crowley, it's me, Aziraphale. Yes, of course it's me."

Crowley couldn't help but chuckle as Aziraphale's voice continued. 

"You're probably wondering why all these missed calls, right? Why am I calling you when I know you can't answer? But here we are, you've been gone for ten hours today. I've been calling you every hour just because I miss your voice, because I miss hearing you talk. Just to hear the sound of your voice on that recorded message.  And now you must think I'm an idiot, right?"

Crowley stopped the message.

The Angel was so wrong, for Crowley actually found it rather endearing and far from idiotic.

Aziraphale missed him so much that he called his phone once an hour just to hear the sound of his voice.

If only Aziraphale knew how much Crowley understood and felt the same way.

In the past, they'd been separated for long periods of time, and of course he missed the angel and was thrilled at every opportunity to meet him. But now that they were together, the slightest separation, even if it was only for a few hours, was agonizing.

Now, eager to hear the next part, he pressed play to continue listening to Aziraphale's message. 

"And today, even though you'll be back in a few hours, I wanted to tell you again that more than your voice, I really miss talking to you. About everything. About my day. About the last book I'm reading. About Muriel's latest discovery. About the latest gossip on the street. I miss listening to you talk passionately about ducks and stars or whatever you fancy. About anything and everything. The silence is killing me. (sigh) I'll stop before I get so maudlin that you hang up, so to sum up, just know that I miss you, that's all. Come home soon. I love you."

Crowley hadn't felt like making fun of Aziraphale before, and he felt even less like it now. 

He restrained himself from telling the Bentley to go any faster when he was already well over the speed limit.

He was even more eager now.

He couldn't wait to tell Aziraphale himself that he missed his voice, too. 

To tell him about his day. 

To listen to him tell what he'd been up to while Crowley had been gone.

To tell him how he missed his smile. 

That he missed everything that made up their daily lives. 

That he missed Aziraphale, even though they had only been a few hours apart.

As he parked in front of the bookshop, he noticed that there was very little light coming from inside, which was not surprising given the time of day he was returning.

It took him only three steps to get to the door, and he was in such a hurry that it took him three tries to get the key into the lock. 

He refrained from calling out, trying not to make any noise in case Aziraphale was asleep.

He saw that the faint light was coming from Aziraphale's desk and, barely taking the time to put down his bag and jacket, quickly made his way there.

He couldn't help but smile fondly at the sight of Aziraphale asleep in his armchair, his reading glasses perched at an angle on his nose, the book he was reading threatening to fall out of his hands.

Crowley approached, knelt in front of the angel and carefully took the book from his hands before placing it on the small table behind him. Then he gently removed the glasses from Aziraphale's nose before running his knuckle delicately across the angel's cheek, trying to wake him up without startling him.

The demon watched in silence as the angel's eyes blinked several times before opening fully, then watched as his lips curled into a happy smile as his gaze met Crowley's.

Aziraphale murmured in a still sleepy voice, "Welcome home."

Crowley brought his face close and kissed him softly on the lips before saying, his throat tight with emotion, "It's so good to be home."

When he pulled away, Aziraphale rubbed his eyes and straightened up, making room on the armchair for Crowley to sit next to him on the armrest.

Once seated, Crowley wrapped his arm around Aziraphale's shoulder as the angel did the same around his waist. Then, resting his head on the demon's chest, he said softly, "I've missed this, too. I've missed you. I missed you so much."

Crowley hummed, kissed Aziraphale's hair, and replied, "I know. Because I missed you just as much, Angel."

They stayed like that for a long time, in each other's arms, basking in the bliss of this reunion in silence.

They would have time to talk.

Later.

For now, they had said the essential.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2) 

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[radiocasinoau]

Originally posted on DeviantArt at 27/9/2023

RadioHusk Week 2023 Day 4: Possessive/First Kiss

After about one month of trying to draw these two as accurate as possible,I'm finally presenting my contribution to the RadioHusk Week.

This is not how I envision an actual first kiss between them (I imagine it would be more emotional),but it marks a few firsts for me:

•First year as a RadioHusk shipper

•First time I participate in the RadioHusk Week (or any event)

•First time drawing a proper Hazbin Hotel fanart

(Andrealphus doesn't count since he is part of Helluva Boss)

Now let's move on to my experience with this ship and the drawing itself:

One day I decided to check the Hazbin Hotel pilot because I was curious why the franchise is so popular and it didn't really pique my interest. However,I liked the interactions between Husk and Alastor even though I didn't ship them at the time.

I immediately loved Husk for his design and the fact he was the most chill one,but Alastor took a little longer to become my second favorite HH character and one of my absolute favorite characters overall.

Then the more fanarts and fanfictions I've seen of them,the more I realized how adorable they are together and this is how it ended up being one of my OTPs.

"Why Alastor's antlers are bigger here than how they usually are?"

The answer is simple:I've heard about a theory of Charlie growing her horns when she is in love or experiencing any intense emotion and I was like "why can't it also be the case for other characters who can change the size of their horns/antlers?". And since it's been long confirmed that Alastor possesses this ability himself,it seemed like a fitting situation.

I had a bit of a hard time figuring out which prompt I wanted to do since I'm not ready to take on the full week yet despite having ideas for all the prompts,but maybe I will eventually try to complete the others and also the RadioHusk Week prompts from the previous years (and future ones).

Best wishes to everyone who is participating in this wonderful event and see you all again in the next one!

The link to the RadioHusk Week 2023 prompts:https://x.com/RadioHuskEvents/status/1687927420123283456?s=20

[starcrossedxwriter]

Oscars Night Part 2 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: So we got Michael's Oscar win… here's Charlotte's! A little fluff and smut with our favs. This gif has nothing to do with the Oscars but he looks damn good so here we are… Enjoy!

Warning: Smut

“And here we have the insanely gorgeous star of the night, Mrs. Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan. Mrs. Jordan, how are you feeling?”

Charlotte slid her hand into Michael Strahan’s as he politely helped her step up onto the platform for her pre-show interview at the 90th Academy Awards. Her stylist had gone for full glam with her outfit, it was a bit more dramatic than she would usually go for but it hit the mark and clearly was a showstopper, which was exactly what Law believed she should be for the night. However, without her husband’s usual arm to steady her, she questioned how she even made it this far down the carpet by herself. 

“I am doing amazing, thank you! So excited to be here.” She offered him and the camera a dazzling white smile, which expertly hid the massive waves of anxiety crashing over her. 

Her eyes carefully examined the chaotic terrain of the red carpet and wondered silently how her peers sauntered down these red carpets with such ease and confidence. It was certainly not her first award show, it was not even her first time at the Oscars. It was, however, her first time as a nominee and she felt like a fawn testing out its wobbly new legs for the first time. Despite all the award shows and events she had gone to in her career, tonight felt as if she had ascended into a whole new level of terrifying. And it did not help that she had to make it through the evening without the one person who could keep her anxiety in check, the only person who knew the right words to pull her back from the edge of anxiety and doubt. 

“Well, first, you look absolutely stunning. Tonight is a huge night for you as a first-time nominee. But it could also be a significant historic night for you and the film industry. You are only one of three women nominated for Best Song and Best Actress in the same year. And you could become the second Black woman to win best actress, and the youngest person to become an EGOT in history. How does that all feel? Are you excited?” 

She let out a quick and light chuckle, “No pressure at all, right??” She paused and shrugged. “But honestly, I am trying to not think too much about all of that. I just… I just strive every day to do my best work and be the best vessel for other people’s stories that I can be. Naomi really was the embodiment of that for me. And given the reckoning that is happening across the country, but particularly in our industry over the last few years, I think Naomi’s story is too familiar for far too many people. And it has been great to see the conversations this film has started and how it really centers the journey of survivors. So I am just so proud and honored to be part of it. And while the recognition from my peers this season has been incredible, I am more happy about that. So I’m just looking forward to performing tonight and celebrating the best of the best in our industry. I try not to get too caught up in all the other stuff.” 

Her role in the indie film, Bird Set Free, was timely and deeply personal for Charlotte due to her own struggles with abuse. The film tells the story of Naomi, an aspiring songwriter who is assaulted by her boss at her part-time job. The project, loosely based on the screenwriter’s own life, followed Naomi’s journey to recovery and shed real light on the harsh impacts of trauma on survivors. With this role, Charlotte had the rare opportunity to both play the main character and dust off her songwriting skills by contributing to many of the songs showcased throughout the film. As a survivor of abuse herself, Charlotte knew her performance tonight was her moment ensure her performance of “She Used to Be Mine” reflected her character’s and her own experience overcoming trauma. She had poured all that pain from her own journey into that ballad, creating one of her most emotional songs yet. 

“That is amazing and we wish you all the best. Before you go, I do have to ask, you are missing the other Michael tonight. I know he is out promoting a little movie folks may not have heard of… just a billion dollar cultural phenomenon.” 

Charlotte’s lips curled into a soft smile, her sadness still coloring the edges though she tried to hide it. 

“Yes, Michael is promoting Black Panther with the rest of the cast overseas. I am sad my partner in crime isn’t with me but this is a historic moment for him and the entire cast so I couldn’t be prouder. And our marriage works because we both do what we love. So I know he is cheering me on.” 

She had repeated that refrain over and over to herself for the last week since Michael revealed he would have to go out of the country to promote the film and would not make it back in time for the Oscars. Work was work and Marvel required a lot of the cast to promote this historic blockbuster. But she would not lie to herself and pretend it was not still disappointing. And while she knew she could not say this to the well-intentioned reporters interviewing her, deep down today only served as a reminder of the downside to being married to a fellow actor: neither of you could be as present as you wanted or should be. 

“But,” she continued. “He sent a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and champagne for me and the team while I was getting ready. So if I can’t have him, champagne is a decent replacement.” Her light laughter was cut short by two strong hands wrapping around her waist and settling on her hips, her body pulled back into a familiar embrace. 

“Hey honey bee…” 

Charlotte whipped around, her legs almost giving out beneath her as she found her husband standing behind her. Her hands immediately ran over his arms as if she had to feel him to believe he was truly there and not a ghost. Tears sprang to her eyes as she drank him in, any and all words stolen right out of her throat.  

“W-what…. H-how?” She mumbled as he pulled her into a kiss, her interview long forgotten. The kiss was brief but she felt it, all of his whispers to relax, urges to breathe, and desires for her to enjoy her moment. 

Just a moment in his arms made Charlotte feel more at peace than she had been since she woke up this morning. She pulled back from their embrace to study him, her brain still refusing to believe he was really with her and not across the world. She could not stop the wave of lust that hit her as she took in his tux. It baffled her how he always managed to look so damn good.

“Where there’s a will…” he shrugged, smiling down at her and offering her a sly wink. She dabbed her eyes to stop the tears from falling, knowing she would never hear the end of it from her team if she ruined her makeup before the show even started.

“That is just beautiful. Safe to say you are surprised?” 

“Yes, 100%! He called me earlier, pretending he was in a whole different time zone,” her tone playfully accusatory as she poked his side. “Usually, I’m pretty hard to get a surprise over on but he definitely got me this time.” 

Michael leaned over and offered a quick peck on her nose, Charlotte’s face scrunching up as she blushed. 

“You two are definitely going to be relationship goals by the end of the show. Michael, it’s always great to see you and best of luck, Charlotte.” 

Given they had not seen much of each other in the last two months since Charlotte was doing Oscar’s press and Michael was promoting the film, the pair found it difficult to keep their hands off each other as they finished the rest of the carpet. With Michael’s calming presence by her side, Charlotte did not desire to rush through the carpet as she normally did. Instead, she savored the moment, posing and grinning and joking with Michael as photographers took their pictures. 

Charlotte found it hard not to simply stare at Michael the entire time though. Words could not describe how elated she was to have him there. She could not explain it but the outcome of the evening mattered significantly less to her now that he was by her side. Charlotte was never one to fuss over awards. The only one she had ever truly cared about winning was her Tony. After all, she had risked everything for that shot, a 20% chance at an award she dreamed about since she was old enough to have ambitions. 

She wanted the others, aimed for that status of EGOT. But she was young and knew it could take decades to do so. She wanted it, but she also knew this would not be her only chance if it did not work out. That was the reality she chose to remain grounded in. But whatever the outcome, she knew Michael would help her enjoy the night and not obsess over what was to come.

She barely had time to enjoy the first half hour of the show or Michael before she was whisked away from her front row seat to prepare for her performance. This was the only portion of the evening that did not make her nervous. Charlotte’s acting chops were only outdone by her own singing talent. Though she never wanted to a full-time singer, she always gravitated toward roles that allowed her to also sing, which is why musicals were perfect for her. It was as thoughtless as walking or breathing for her to sit at a piano and sing. She just let the words and music consume her, and the audience just melted away like ice on summer day. She could do that in her sleep.

She took one last deep breath before the curtain opened and the spotlight came down on her. She blocked out everyone and everything as she listened to the opening refrain of the song and began to sing. There were no frills or hooks in her performance tonight. It was simply her and an orchestra of all women of color behind her as she sung her heart out. She still remembered the day she wrote this song. She poured out all of the grief and regret she once felt for the pieces of her that died after her ex, the pieces she, at the time, believe she could never get back. She recalled that hopelessness as if it was still part of her, still had its claws so deeply rooted in her soul. She was no longer that woman, but that was who Naomi was when she wrote it and that song represented her and Naomi and countless survivors at their lowest points, when the road to recovery seemed too dark, when all you could do was drown in the regret of the person you weren’t in anymore. It was them at their most vulnerable and Charlotte, ever a performer, showed that with every note. 

It was not until the final note played that she came back to reality, her mind unable to ignore the standing ovation and cheers that rung out around her. Her eyes immediately fell to Michael though, whose cheers could be heard above the rest. He gave her a discrete thumbs up and mouthed, “I love you,” as the show went to commercial break and the lights went down.   

Like a well-oiled machine, she had no time to rest before she was ushered backstage and back around to her seat before the commercial break ended. She hated that her categories were among the last of the evening. She enjoyed the Oscars but sitting and waiting all night was not her idea of fun. And though it was great to see friends and people she admired win throughout the night, she could not deny that it felt as if she was dragging toward the end of the show. 

She rolled her neck and straightened up in her seat as John Legend walked up to the microphone and launched into his scripted speech. His words sounded muffled in her ears as she sat there, unable to register anything. She was sure whatever his spiel was about the importance of music in film was true but now that her category was mere moments away, all the anxiety she had pushed off was crashing over her like a tsunami. 

Her mind only checked back into reality when she heard the announcer read her name and heard a few bars from her song in the movie. She instinctively sat up and put a smile on her face, knowing the camera would be on her from that moment forward, win or lose. Her hand sat in Michael’s lap as he held her hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles in the inside of her wrist, his nonverbal cue to relax. His grip was tight but not unwelcome as she waited to hear if she would make history. 

“And the Oscar for Best Song goes to…” Charlotte closed her eyes as she waited with bated breath, the seconds inching by as John opened that damn envelope. “Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan, She Used to Be Mine.” 

Charlotte’s face immediately fell into her hands as she heard her name, her shock paralyzing her in her seat. Everyone around her jumped up with loud applause, cheers and whistles filling her ears. It was not until Michael discreetly tugged on her arm that she broke out of her trance and stood up. She hugged him tightly and kissed him before making her way to the stage. 

After her quick obligatory hug to John as he handed her the statue, she stood in front of the mic and waited for a moment until the cheers died down. She examined the card in her hand, reading it for a moment. 

“Wow… I am honestly just in shock. Literally just wanted to read it to make sure it really said my name,” she chuckled, a few cheers and laughter breaking out as she paused, her brain moving too slow to remember her speech. 

“T-this… this is an amazing honor.” Her voice broke slightly as she continued, the weight of this moment starting to truly hit her as she spoke.“T-thank you to the Academy, it is a true honor to be recognized by one’s peers. U-Um, thank you to the entire team that worked on this song with me. It was a blessing and honor to tell this story with you. Thank you to Christina, our amazing screenwriter, for trusting us with this story, for trusting me with your story. I… I can’t think straight and left my notes at my seat so I am saying honor a lot, which is weird,” Charlotte rambled. “And now I’m rambling, everyone who knows me knows how on brand this is. So I will just say apologies to anyone I forgot. But thank you all so much. No song is created alone and I owe this to all of you for pouring your souls into this piece of art.”

“Lastly, to my dad and siblings and my friends, thank you for listening and enduring all the terrible songs I wrote when I was 10. Your unwavering support of my love for music got me here. And to my husband, thank you for all your love and dedication to me and to supporting my dreams. I love you so much. Thank you!” 

She lifted the Oscars in the air slightly and smiled before turning to walk off stage. As she passed folks backstage, everyone offered her hugs and congratulations. However, Charlotte barely registered any of it, she just let the PAs guide her where she needed to go to be back in her seat for Best Actress. She still could not believe that had truly happened. Part of her was still waiting for someone to find her and tell her it was a mistake and rip it out of her hands. She was officially an EGOT, something she had always wanted but felt so far out of reach. And it was finally hers. 

“See, I told you,” Michael whispered as she settled back into her seat. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing the that held her wedding band. “That’s why I’m always right. 

“How could I not know that by now??” She whispered as she leaned over to kiss him on the lips. And he was not wrong, Michael said every day since she was nominated that she would walk away with at least one Oscar tonight. She just had not believed him.  

“That’s what I’ve been sayin’ this whole time,” he joked. “An EGOT… man, I’m so proud of you, baby.”

They shared another deep kiss before the lights flickered, signaling that the commercial was over and the cameras were about to roll again. Charlotte’s stomach did backflips as she watched Mahershala Ali walk up to the mic. This was the award that would truly determine how she felt about this historic night. Of the two awards she was nominated for, this was the one that held more weight to her. She was proud to win Best Song, but Charlotte was the most critical of her acting. It was the craft she had to go to school for, study, and train to be her best at. She never believed she was a strong actor. And though she would not be all that disappointed if she lost, she knew it would be the affirmation she needed to finally cast all doubt aside. 

“These five women gave us performances that blew us away. From a spunky young teen to a survivor trying to rebuild her life, these performances made us laugh, made us cry, and made us question our world. These are the nominees for Best Actress.” 

Charlotte watched the reel closely, her heart filling with pride as she watched snippets from some of her own personal favorite performances from the year. This was a tough category, and Charlotte knew she would be happy to see every single woman walk away with it. She wanted it, but at least she knew it would go to someone truly deserving if she lost. Michael’s grip was now on her thigh through the slit in her dress and almost painful as she, once again, straightened up for the camera. 

“And the Oscar goes to… Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan, Bird Set Free.” 

She shook her head in disbelief but she stood up quicker this time, tears already streaming down her face. She repeated the same path toward the stage after hugging and kissing her husband.

“Wow ok, being up here a second time is kinda perfect so I can say everything I forgot the first time.” She paused as the crowd applause renewed. “U-um ok, thank you once again to the Academy. First, I want to say what a blessing it is to be even included among this insanely talented group of nominees. I want to thank the entire cast, crew, production team of this movie. I was so insanely proud to come to work each day and bring this story to life. And proud to wake up daily and portray the story of Naomi, a story that is too familiar to myself and many of us in this room and many of you watching tonight: the story of a survivor who took their power back and decided to thrive. Our world and our industry has a ways to go but I want every survivor here and watching to know that I see you, I love you, and this is for you.” She paused as the crowd applauded her. 

“Lastly, I want to thank my husband, Michael. Your…” she looked up at the ceiling for a moment as she tried to stop tears from falling. “Your love for me is unlike anything I have ever known and there isn’t enough time or enough words to adequately express how grateful I am to walk this Earth each day with you by my side and spend those days loving you and being loved by you. There has never been a dream that you have not encouraged me to chase and never been a door that you haven’t helped me push open when I doubted whether I could do it myself. I would not be here tonight if it weren’t for your unwavering belief in me.  Thank you for being you and for always encouraging me to be my fullest and most authentic self. I love you to the moon and back over and over and over again.” She blew him a kiss before smiling and offering a last broad thank you to the entire crowd before turning to exit the stage.  

From there, the night felt like a blur of congratulations, interviews, and parties. She endured all of them, the chaos and frenzy of every event, though she really just wanted to retreat to her hotel room with her husband. 

Finally, on their drive to the third after party, Charlotte said, “How committed are you to going to this party?” 

Michael raised his eyebrow and chuckled, “Tapping out already, old lady?” 

She rolled her eyes, “Shut uppppp. Seriously, you wanna just head back to the hotel?” 

Michael merely shrugged. “Not up to me, baby girl. It’s your night, Oscar winners get whatever they want for at least a week. So you’re callin’ the shots. So what do you want?” 

She tilted her head as she studied him for a moment, the lust she felt earlier in the night returning with full force now. 

She slid across the limo to sit by him, her legs straddling his hips. It was a bit dangerous in a moving car but she did not care. She leaned in and kissed him softly, before moving down to his neck. She sucked softly on his sensitive spot, smirking as a moan escaped his lips. 

“You know what I want, baby,” she whispered in his ear, his hands immediately going to grip her ass. 

“Aye, brah!” Michael called out to the driver. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Take us back to the hotel. I’ll triple your tip if you get there within 10 minutes.”

Charlotte laughed as they continued making out like two horny 20 year olds. Charlotte willed Michael to fill her right then and there, but he refused, deciding they could wait until they got to their suite. By the time they reached their hotel, in record time thanks to their motivated driver, Charlotte’s need was so overwhelming she felt as if she might die if he did not touch her. 

The moment their suite door slammed suit, the pair were all over each other. They made quick work of removing Charlotte’s dress as they kissed hungrily, Michael pushing her body against the wall of the hotel room as he kissed every inch of skin he could find. 

Charlotte let out a small yelp as Michael hoisted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He threw her down, immediately hooking his fingers on the small fabric of her thong and sliding it down. Michael placed a trail of soft gentle kisses slowly down her body, starting at her neck and working his way down to her soft stomach. He took special care with her breasts, his mouth engulfing her nipple as he sucked lightly. Her groans of pleasure filled his ears and spurred him on as he switched sides, ensuring he gave each equal treatment. He knew Charlotte loved nipple play and he knew exactly which buttons to press to turn her into a blubbering mess in his hands. 

By the time Michael reached her lower stomach, Charlotte was panting, her pleads for more were on the tip of her lips, her pussy aching to be touched. 

“B-baby, please,” she begged.

“Let me take care of you, honey bee,” he whispered, placing a kiss and softly biting her inner thigh. 

“You know how much I love you, Els? How fuckin’ perfect you are?” He asked as he alternated between soft kisses and gentle bites that drove Charlotte wild. Each kiss got closer and closer to Charlotte’s aching core but not close enough. 

His hands pushed her legs open, her flower already dripping wet for him. He licked his lips as he prepared for his favorite meal. 

He immediately dove between her legs, his tongue caressing her sensitive bud and causing her back to arch off the bed. 

“F-Fuck! J-just like that, baby,” she moaned as a deep shudder of pleasure racked through her body. 

Charlotte’s hands gripped the comforter as he pushed her up a mountain of pleasure. The things Michael could do with his mouth were otherworldly. Charlotte quite literally often saw stars. He knew everything there was to know about Charlotte and her body. He did not have a college degree but he had a ph.D in his honey bee. So every time he was between her legs, he made sure she was more than well taken care of, often taking her body and pleasure to new heights she could not even fathom. 

As he inserted two fingers inside her, Charlotte knew it would be one of those marathon, new heights type of evenings. Her moans and screams created a symphony throughout their hotel suite as Michael spelled out his love for her with every kiss, lick, and touch. 

Feeling how close she was to her peak, Michael increased his speed, curling his two fingers into her G-spot. 

Charlotte let out a breathless scream as Michael sent her over the edge. Her words were incoherent as waves of pleasure pulled her deeper and deeper under the surface. 

He gave her no time to recover as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of her at a relentless pace as he emerged from between her legs. He roughly pressed his lips to hers, allowing Charlotte to taste herself on his lips. 

“Just like honey,” he whispered, causing her to smile as he recalled something he said to her the first time they had sex, the genesis of his second favorite nickname for her. 

She whimpered against his lips as the pleasure became overwhelming. 

“I-It’s too much, B-Bakari,” she moaned as she felt her orgasm building again too fast and too soon. 

“Take it, baby. I know you can,” Bakari whispered in her ear, his deep voice causing Charlotte to acquiesce to his will immediately. She would do whatever he asked of her, ride the waves of whatever pleasure he was willing to give her. “You got one more, baby girl. I know you do.” 

Bakari smirked as her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth falling open with every moan. They had been together for years and the sight of her cumming never got old to him. She looked perfect, wild and uninhibited. 

It did not take long for his expert ministrations to send her tumbling down yet another earth-shattering orgasm. 

Her vision went white as she came on his hand, Michael whispering sweet nothings to her. 

“Good girl. That’s right, cum for me, baby.” 

He finally removed his hands from inside her, watching her come back to reality. 

“You’re…a… fuckin’ menace…” she whispered after a few minutes of silence, causing Michael to chuckle. “I can’t feel my damn legs.” 

“You said you wanted me, baby girl. So I’m giving you all of me. And there’s still a lot left.” 

He gently slapped her thigh, spurring her to push herself up on her forearms. 

“Hey,” she grabbed his arm and pulled him in for a soft kiss. The entire evening had been frenzied and chaotic. She just wanted one moment that was slow and intimate, a true moment of quiet between the pair of them before the night was over. “Thank you, Bakari. Tonight was perfect. I don’t des-” 

He stopped her and captured her lips with another kiss before saying, “Aye, none of that today. You deserved every moment of it and more. I’ll never let you forget that. Now lay back down so I can keep showing you how I proud I am of you, aight?” 

She laughed and laid back on the soft comforter and nodded. “I’m all yours baby.” 

Tag list: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @reelwriter19 @bangtanxmegan @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @msniaimani @hi888888sworld @destinio1 @lynaye1993

***

AN: Bird Set Free is a fake movie, of course lol but She Used to Be Mine is a real song if folks were wondering - from the musical Waitress. I’m obsessed with it.

[paperweight91]

Like I’m Gonna Lose You

Part 2

Summary: After “ending” things with Andy your life takes an unexpected turn at a work function.

Warnings: fluff, Ransom being completely OOC

A/N: here is part 2. I’m letting the story take me where it goes. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

Characters: Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, mentions of Laurie Barber

Before you knew it it was February and your work was hosting a Gala in hopes of wooing some of Boston's most elite. The girls in the office were gossiping about who they were going to bring with them, when the spotlight suddenly shined on you.

“Are you bringing anyone to the gala tonight?” Tammy asked with a coy look. Did she know something?

“Uhh nope, we’re all working anyways, doesn’t seem right to drag someone there and not be able to see them.” It was true you were supposed to be “wooing” all night.

The other girls seem miffed at your lack of gossip contribution, and move on to their owns dates and what they are wearing. Effectively cutting you out of the conversation.

You were starting to look forward to the event, even if you were the only one from your office going alone. A night to get dressed up and rub elbows with some of the most influential people on the east coast was exciting. You rushed home from the office and made quick work of getting ready in your emerald green dress. It was a little prom-like, but cute and more importantly easy to move around in.

Arriving early, you greeted your boss Levi and his wife and started to make the rounds of the guests beginning to arrive.

What you didn’t realize was the entire DAs office had been invited as well. Seeing Andy laughing and talking with Laurie you knew. He was never going to leave his wife, and definitely not for you.

It was too much, you went to the bar and ordered a tequila shot. Your drink of choice when you wanted to get absolutely shitfaced.

“May want to slow down there Kitten, you’ll drink the whole bar at that pace.” You looked over at the smug stranger. Surprised at his boyish good looks. He was clearly arrogant, but there was a glint in his eye. Was it concern? He doesn’t even know you, it’s definitely not that.

You give him a confused look. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You ask.

“Hugh Drysdale, but you Kitten can call me Ramsom. I’m here in hopes of being, what was the term ‘woo’d’” you start giggling right away. “And what’s so funny about that Kitten?”

You introduce yourself as well, “well I’m supposed to be ‘wooing’ but too busy drinking I guess.” Ransom laughs at your half hearted joke.

“So what are we drinking about?” He looks at the bartender to ask for two more shots, “tequila?” You nod with a smile, “definitely about a guy. Want me to take your mind off him? You are supposed to be ‘wooing’ me after all.”

You playfully slap at his arm. Wow, are all men this muscular? Between Andy and Ransom they both seem ridiculously built for the lines of work they were in. Stop thinking about Andy! Your brain screams at you, “Wooing Ransom not flirting!” He laughs with you.

“Then at least let me have you on my arm tonight. It would be a waste for such a pretty girl to be here all alone.” Your face heats at his words, and you glance over at Andy. He’s dancing with Laurie. His wife. With that image burned in your mind you take Ransom's hand and let him lead you around the room.

Ransom true to his word keeps you on his arm all night. You don’t even notice the stolen glances Andy repeatedly sends your way. After your fourth time around the room you excuse yourself to the restroom.

“Don’t keep me waiting long kitten.” He winks at you as he watches you walk away.

You feel giddy as you reach the thankfully empty washroom. You select a stall to quickly do your business. Going over all the wonderful moments you’ve had with Ransom and all you’ve learned about him so far.

You hear the door open and shut - was that a lock clicking? Probably your imagination. You flush and open the stall door just to come face-to-face with Andy.

“Andy? What are you doing in here it’s the ladies room.” He locked the door, you’re trapped.

“Sweetheart, I’ve missed you. I just want to talk it will be quick I promise.”

You huff as you walk past him to wash your hands. Surveying your appearance in the mirror.

“Fine. Speak fast.” You cross your arms across your chest.

Andy runs his hands through his fluffy hair before he starts, “I’m sorry, I was an ass. You said…you said that you love me. And it scared me. And now I see you here with that trash Drysdale. Do you know anything about him by the way?”

You hum, you’re not going to dignify that with a response.

“Fine okay, I shouldn’t say anything with who I’m here with. But Sweetheart, I can’t say that to you yet. Not until I leave Laurie.” He’s giving you hope. You realize now you have to make a decision.

You open your mouth and are shocked with the response you come up with. “I’ll believe it when I see it Andy. For now you’re keeping me from working, and spending the evening with a man who is single. Good night”

You storm past Andy to the door to unlock it and leave. You’re so lost in your own head your walk face first into the person you were looking for.

“Woah there Kitten. Something happen?” He glances behind you and spies Andy leaving the ladies room. “Barber bothering you?”

You look up at Ransom, his blue green eyes staring straight at you. Not sure how to respond, you shrug.

He wraps both arms tightly around you, and you sigh at the warm safe feeling encapsulating you. “Why don’t we go somewhere more relaxed and talk. No funny business.”

Searching his eyes you see nothing but warmth and care. “Please Ransom.” Your voice is just above a whisper. But with those two words Ransom becomes a man on a mission. Grabbing both your coats from coat check and ordering an Uber on his phone.

The next thing you know you’re pulling up to Ransom's home. He gets a bit pink high in his cheeks and rubs the back of his neck, “I wasn’t sure where else to take you.”

You give him a warm smile and follow him to the front door. He takes your coat and offers to get you some clothes to change into. You gratefully accept and wander around his living room. You stop only at the floor to ceiling windows looking out into the woods. Eery, but strangely calming as well. The freshly fallen snow makes the trees look like something out of a fairy tale.

“I don’t have any girls clothes, I hope this will be okay?” He’s rubbing the back of his neck as he hands you one of his college hoodies and a pair of basketball shorts.

“It’s perfect, thank you Ransom. Where can I…?”

“Down the hall first door on your left.” He points.

You change quickly in the guest room, loving the scent of Ransom all around you. When you return Ransom is sitting on the couch with his foot propped against the coffee table. You admire him for a few moments, taking in his long legs, and perfectly placed hair. His large hands, one gripping what appears to be a scotch keep grabbing your attention. Before you can make a fool of yourself you head into the room.

Ransom’s face lights up as he sees you, and he gestures you to sit beside him. “So tell me about you and ADA Barber.”

He couldn’t start small could he?

“Ugh, where do I start?” He gives you an encouraging smile and it’s like it word vomits out if you. Your embarrassing crush, the too perfect ‘first date’, all the sex and finally your love confession.

“Huh,” Ransoms response leaves a lot to be desired.

“‘Huh?’ What do you mean?”

“Nothing! It’s just, it sounds like he has one foot in both relationships.” Ransom scowls. This isn’t at all what you expect from him. Of course you had heard about Ransom and his playboy lifestyle. But those rumours didn’t seem to match the man sitting beside you.

“I don’t know what I thought our relationship would be,” you look down as you play with the ties of his shorts that you wear. “I felt like, at first it was a harmless crush, but I knew I wanted more and when it seemed like he did too…”

“You got swept up.” He states, taking a long sip from his drink while he thinks. “I think I know a way to help you get over him.”

“I’m not sleeping with you Ransom.”

He gives a full bellied laugh at that. “That’s not at all what I was suggesting.”

“What then?” You have no idea where he’s going with this.

“Go on a date with me. Like a proper date, we had fun tonight before Barber came in and ruined everything, didn’t we?” He looks a little nervous now.

You’re shocked. The only thing you can think to say comes out before you can stop it, “Why?” At Ransom's pout you quickly follow up with, “Why me?”

He lets out a puff of air before he speaks. Clearly contemplating each word before he says them. “I think you’re pretty, you seem smart, funny and you have spent an entire evening with me without throwing a drink in my face.”

You feel yourself getting giddy at his words. Would it be the worst thing in the world? To go on a date with Ransom?

“That…that sounds lovely Ransom. But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I-“ you huff. Why is it so hard to put your thoughts into words sometimes? “I want to take things slow, I don’t want to lose myself in someone else again.”

The smile that spreads across his face lights up the room. It’s like his eyes start to sparkle. “I expect nothing less Kitten. Now you have two options, you can grab your clothes and go home, or…”

“Or what?” You ask not wanting to leave Ransoms presence quite yet.

“Or I can get changed we can watch a movie, you can sleep in my guest room and tomorrow we’ll go on a breakfast date.” His eyes are full of mischief, but also something tender.

Meekly, you look up at him through your lashes and giggle as you say, “can I take option number 2 please?”

Ransom gives you another one of those warm smiles, and stands to cross to the TV stand. “Pick something while I go change. Please know I will be judging your choice.” He winks as he leaves you flustered on the couch.

You settle on a romantic comedy you’ve seen about a hundred times, but never fails to make you smile.

He snorts as he walks back into the room in a white t-shirt and flannel pants. “I did tell you I was judging you right?”

You laugh as you playfully push at his arm as he sits beside you. “This is a classic!” You say with mock outrage.

By the end of the movie your cuddled up against Ransom's side. Loving the feel and scent of him.

“C’mon Kitten,” he whispers to the top of your head. “Time for bed if we want that breakfast date to actually be breakfast.”

You both walk along the hall to your respective rooms. “Thanks Ransom - for everything tonight. Really.”

He smiles as he cups your face in his hand and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “The pleasure is all mine Kitten.”

As you enter the guest room you smile softly to yourself. Are you already falling for Ransom? You push the thought out of your head and climb into the bed. Drifting off quickly.

You wake later than normal, feeling well rested. Disoriented by your surroundings, it takes you a moment to realize where you are. Suddenly, last night rushes back to you. The gala, Ransom, Andy cornering you. Ugh, what were you doing?

You get up and listen at the door to see if you hear movement. Nothing. Probably safe to go freshen up in the bathroom. You find Ransom has left you a spare toothbrush out and a fresh pair of joggers and sweatshirt in case you want to shower.

After freshening up, you walk out to the main living area to see it empty. Listening closely, you don’t hear any movement around the house. Should you look for him?

Before you can make a decision Ransom appears from down the hall. Dressed in slacks with a white sweatshirt he looks like he stepped right off of a photo shoot.

He sidles up beside you where you stand by the floor to ceiling windows. “Like the view Kitten?”

You give him a small smile and look back out towards the woods. “I love it.” You say, “It’s beautiful, but haunting at the same time. I didn’t know views like this existed outside of books, and maybe my imagination.”

Ransom just watches you intently while you speak, taking in all the small ticks in your facial expressions. He realizes then why Andy was able to lure you in. All of your feelings are bare on your face, even if you try and hide them, it’s still obvious how you are feeling.

“Yeah I like this view too.” He whispers, only looking straight at you. “Come on, let’s get over to your place so you can get dressed and I can take you for the most wonderful breakfast.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small, but you take the hand that Ransom offers and follow him out to his Beemer.

Ransom drops you at your apartment with a promise to be back in no more than 30 minutes. Once you get upstairs you breathe for a moment. Realizing your phone is almost dead you throw it on the charger, and go to look for an outfit for your breakfast date.

You realize that the feeling leading up to this date is so different from your “first date” with Andy. Ransom has clearly shown he’s interested in you, he’s not married, so why are you still thinking about Andy?

You pick out your favourite winter outfit, a brown wool skirt, black panty hose and black turtleneck. You do some light makeup, and feel happy with your look. Simple, but definitely date worthy. You decide to take your phone off of do not disturb and check the time. When you do you see there are a dozen notifications. All from Andy.

You decide to ignore them. He didn’t want you when you were available to him, then why would you want him now.

You grab your purse and stuff your phone in, before going downstairs to meet Ransom. Smiling as you see the Beemer parked right in front of your building waiting for you.

“You ready to go?” You ask as you slip into the passenger side of his car. He shoots you a cocky smirk and throws the car in gear.

“You look beautiful, Kitten.” He winks before pulling into traffic.

The ride to the restaurant is spent getting to know each other. Most of the things Ransom told you about himself you knew: his grandfathers empire, his mothers real estate business. What you didn’t know was he had been writing under a pen name for years, but of course wouldn’t tell you any of the books yet.

As Ransom guides you in, you realize this is one of the most expensive restaurants in town, and you stop short.

“Ransom, this is too much, I uh..” you trail off not quite sure how to tell him this is way out of your budget.

“Don’t worry Kitten, I chose the place so I’ll pay. Besides, I have been craving their French omelette.” He guides you over to your table where the hostess is waiting. She takes your drink orders, coffee for you, tea for Ransom, and leaves you two.

“So Kitten, tell me that movie you put on last night is not your favourite. Because if that’s the case I’m going to have to seriously re-evaluate you as dating material.” He gives you a sly wink as he puts his tea together.

The laugh that bubbles out of your throat is one of pure joy. “Of course not! But it’s definitely my go to if I just need to chill out, or do some house work.”

The date with Ransom is completely different from your date with Andy. There is a connection, beyond his good looks. Something inside is telling you to take this slow and see where it goes.

After you both finish your meals you decide to take a walk in the nearby park. Ransom surprises you by grabbing your hand as you both walk and talk. Once the silence settles between you both, you find yourself leaning onto his shoulder and just enjoying his presence. After a couple rounds of the park Ransom leads you back to his car.

“As much as I hate to say this Kitten, I have to take you home. Because if I don’t, I may just bring you back to my place and keep you forever.”

You smile as you drop into the passenger side. “Thank you Ransom, this has been the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

Once back at your apartment Ransom walks you to your door. “I know you want to take things slow, but how about a kiss to end our first date?”

You nod up at him and he slowly moves closer. You let your eyes flutter shut as he presses your lips together. There’s heat there, but something sweet and almost tender about the way his lips move against yours. By the time he draws away, you’re left breathless. He slowly slides his hands up and down your arms, “Please say we can do this again Kitten…”

The answer for you is simple, and you don’t have to think twice before you’re responding.

“Yes Ransom, I can’t wait to do this again.”