#i am gay and i have pots

[wigglys-dikrats]

don’t watch honey queen if you have heart problems - i had to lie down for queen b

[cormorantcolors]

Okay idk if this is a hot take, I just finished my first BG3 playthrough recently and am only now starting to really engage with the fandom, but why is nobody talking about how hostile the game can be towards ace and especially aro characters? Like idk it feels weird that Withers is so beloved or the tiefling party is such a cherished scene when both of them have text that paints choosing not to date anyone as lonely and cold and tragic.

[magentagalaxies]

i really am an old fag on all levels except physical huh

[bylertruther]

i can't explain it well bc my brain is fried after exams but i feel like there is Something there in the fact that whenever the byIer community talks abt how shipping byIer isn't inappropriate and that them kissing is completely normal and fine, people always, always, ALWAYS have to pipe up with "well yeah kissing is fine but [goes on to preach to the choir abt how nsfw byIer is bad]". like. why is that where your mind jumps. why is it that when one person says "mike and will kissing on screen like every other couple has been allowed to would be good and normal and expected, and writing fics where they kiss isn't inappropriate at all, and we should discuss why people think them kissing is any different and inherently dirty and Bad because therein lies the actual issue" some people gotta pipe up and prove that point exactly. like. do u get wht i mean? no one brings up "pr0shipping" or sex or any of that irrelevant shit whenever someone talks abt j4ncy or lvmax sharing a peck. so why do u bring that up here and now? why do you act like we're talking about anything else here and put words in our mouths? why do you feel Some Type Of Way as an lgbt person urself whenever someone else says that they'd like to see a couple tht looks like them express innocent physical affection the same way that everyone else in the show does? why do you suddenly start talking about cp when literally no one is fucking talking about that at all? like. hello. i can't be the only bitch that sees this i can't be the only person that goes 🤨❓❓❓whenever ppl start to needlessly steer the convo in tht direction like .......

[thanksfortheflaglove]

.

[bigfootsboytoy]

Steve ends up heartbroken, lonely and depressed after season 2. Nancy called him bullshit, even after he ditched all his old friends for her. Billy Hargrove took his spot at the top of the food chain. He can have it, Steve doesn't really want it anymore. But Steve does want to find some sort of connection. Someone to have in his life who isn't an 11 year old kid he barely knows. He tries to go on a date one night, take a nice-seeming girl to a party. He wants to find connection, to kill the loneliness that's been building for months, but just as he's feeling kind of good about things, his date ditches him.

So. He decides to drink his feelings. He gets majorly fucked up, and ends up laying on the ground in the backyard, contemplating how much life seems to hate him.

Only to literally get tripped over by Eddie Munson, who was at this party selling pot and is very confused as to why Steve Harrington is alone on the ground with a bottle of vodka clenched in one hand.

Eddie ends up chatting a little with Steve, nothing substantial, but enough to know that Steve is very very drunk, and also very very sad.

He asks if Steve wants to go back to the party, and Steve staunchly refuses. He doesn't want to be around a bunch of annoyingly happy people.

He asks if Steve needs a ride home, and Steve just kind of shrugs. His parents just left for another trip, so home is kind of depressing right now too. But he doesn't exactly have any other friends he can stay with so. Home it'll have to be.

Only Eddie can *tell* he doesn't really want to go home, though he has no idea why Steve wouldn't want to return to his veritable mansion after a shitty night. The reason doesn't matter much. He offers to let Steve crash at his place. Steve can take the couch, or hell he can stay in Eddie's room if he doesn't mind sharing, that way he wouldn't risk being woken up when Wayne comes home that morning.

And well, Steve agrees. Can't think of any reason not too. Munson has been nice so far, he's got a good easy-going energy that Steve likes. Why not stay the night.

By the time they get to Eddie's, Steve is *slightly* more sober. Not much, but he's slurring his words a little less, and he can walk with only a little help.

Eddie grabs them each a little plate of leftovers, because he has no idea if Steve's eaten at all. It's quiet while they eat, Eddie doesn't push Steve to talk, and Steve isn't sure what to say. Eventually Eddie sets the plates aside and give Steve an easy grin.

"So, do you want the couch, or are you crashing with me?"

Steve thinks about it for a while. He hasn't shared a bed with a guy-friend since he was a kid, and he's heard rumors about Eddie, whispers in the hall about the way he looks at other guys. But...Steve can't really bring himself to care. He's tired, and he really doesn't want to be alone.

"I don't mind sharing."

Eddie sets them both up in his room, letting Steve choose which side of the bed he wants, and they both settle in. There's a respectable distance between the two of them, and Eddie says a quick goodnight to Steve, figures they won't talk and just go right to bed.

Except Steve isn't sober, and he really isn't in a good headspace, so he can't stop himself from blurting things out into the quiet of the dark room.

"Are you really gay?"

Eddie stiffens next to him, he can feel it, he can hear the way that the other boys breath cuts off and he seems to stop breathing all-together.

"It's okay if you are, I'm not going to be an asshole about it, I'm trying not to be that guy anymore. I guess I was just curious."

It's quiet for another beat before Eddie seems to loosen just a little. He starts breathing again at least.

"Yeah I uh- I am. Gay. And if that's weird the couch is still open, I can-"

"It's not weird."

"Okay."

Steve let's himself mull over this confirmation, and then his mouth starts moving again, without his permission.

"Is it lonely? Cause I mean, it's got to be hard to date in Hawkins. People here are shitty. Unless you've got like, a secret boyfriend or something."

"No...no secret boyfriend. It does get a little lonely sometimes. I'm lucky though, I've got my uncle, and my friends are pretty great. That's enough most days."

"What do you do when it's not enough?"

"Hmmm?"

"When your uncle and friends aren't enough, what do you do? To try and...make it better?"

Eddie is quiet again for a long stretch before he shrugs.

"I try to focus on something else. I'll play my guitar or work on a new campaign, read a book. Something to take my mind off it."

"Oh."

Now Steve is the one who seems tense, his jaw is tight and he's got his arms wrapped around himself. His next words come out as a whisper, but Eddie manages to catch them.

"I don't know how to do any of that."

He sounds almost choked, and Eddie is caught off guard. He's never seen Steve Harrington as anything other than solid, as happy. He's the king, after all. He's supposed to be all smiles and great hair. Only...Eddie's noticed that he hasn't hung out with his old friends lately, that he's eaten alone at lunch too many times to be anything other than strange.

"Steve...are you lonely?"

Eddie expects a denial, for Steve to laugh it off and tell Eddie that he's perfectly fine and fulfilled. Or maybe he expects a shrug, a non-answer. What he doesn't expect is the gut-wrenching sob that seems to tear past the other boys lips.

He doesn't expect to turn and see Steve Harrington's face, a scant foot from his, shining with tears.

He panics a little at the sight.

"Fuck- I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be." Steve tries to wipe his eyes, to hide the tremble in his voice. "Not your fault there's something wrong with me."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like I'm broken man, like nobody can stand to be around me. Tommy and Carol hate me now, Nancy- hell even my own parents hate being at home with me for more than a week. It's like I'm repellent or something. Couldn't even get a date to stick around for a whole night."

And Eddie's pretty sure *he* might start crying now. He'd never have expected this much from Steve, all that sadness to come pouring out. It wouldn't have happened if Steve was completely sober. Without thinking, he reaches out.

Eddie puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and waits to see if the touch gets rejected, but Steve seems to lean into him, so he lets his hand linger.

"This probably won't help, but I don't think you're repellent. And that's coming from somebody who your whole group used to torture. I don't know much about you, but I kind of liked having you around tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Steve gives him a tiny smile. His eyes are still wet with tears, and the smile doesn't come close to reaching them. He seems impossibly small here in Eddie's bed.

"I don't know man. I just wish-"

He cuts himself off, apparently deciding his words are too far, but Eddie urges him to keep talking.

"What do you wish Steve?"

"I just wish that... there was somebody out there I could have a future with. Somebody who actually loved me, you know?"

It might be the saddest thing Eddie's ever heard, and he blames that fact for what he does next.

He takes his hand off Steve's shoulders and instead hauls Steve closer to him, fitting the other boy against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. It's a move that might get him decked, but he doesn't think it will. And he'll be damned if he doesn't hug Steve right that second.

He doesn't get hit. Steve tenses for a second, but it's just that one instant before he's melting into the embrace.

Eddie feels more tears falling against his shirt, and he couldn't care less. He keeps Steve close, let's him cry into his chest, runs a hand through that famous mop of hair.

He isn't sure how long it takes for Steve to calm down, but eventually he does. His breathing evens out, and he shivers a little before speaking.

"Thanks man."

And Eddie takes another leap of faith.

"I could be that person, you know."

"What?"

"I mean. You know Im... not straight. It may not be exactly what you're wanting but. I think I could picture a future with you. If you want to, just for tonight...I could be that someone who loves you."

Steve looks at Eddie, like he's a puzzle that he needs to solve, before a other shiver seems to wrack his body.

"Just for tonight?"

It comes out as a whisper, but Eddie hears it all the same.

"Yeah. For tonight Steve."

"I think...I think I'd like that."

Eddie gives him the sweetest smile he can muster, and nods.

"Alright sweetheart."

Eddie isn't exactly sure what it means, to love Steve for the night. After all, Steve is straight. He figures it doesn't matter much though, it's only for a night.

He keeps a hold on Steve, let's him get comfortable tucked against Eddie, and he does what feels natural. He runs a hand up and down Steve's spine, traces shapes into the soft fabric of his shirt. He tangles their legs together, and in a moment of insane bravery he presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head.

He's met with a sigh, full of relief, and figures he's on the right track.

"Just close your eyes Stevie, I've got you."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"Hmmm?"

"The future. You said you could see one. Can you tell me?"

And he asks so carefully, he sounds almost afraid, Eddie can't say no to that.

"Do you want the fantasy future, or the realistic future?"

"The real one."

"Alright then. Well, if I'm not going to be a rich and famous rockstar...I'll probably graduate and get a job somewhere in town. A real job, maybe working on cars or something. I'm good with cars. You'd come over all the time, have dinners with me and with Wayne. You'd have to meet Wayne. And we'd have more nights like this, sleeping close."

Steve let's out a pleased sounding hum, and shifts his face so it's buried even closer in Eddie's neck. He can feel Steve's breath on him.

"We could save up money and get a little place together, somewhere outside Hawkins. I have to stay kind of close, for my uncle, but maybe Indy?"

Steve nods, mutters something about staying close 'just in case'. He sounds like he might fall asleep, so Eddie keeps going.

"We could get an apartment, nothing too fancy. We would get two rooms, so nobody gets suspicious, but we would share a bed most nights. I'd play with my band on weekends, just for fun, and you'd join some little local sports team. I'd make sure to schedule DND nights so that I never miss a single game, even though I don't understand a damn thing about sports. We would come home for holidays, but most of the time it would just be us. I'd take good care of you, make sure you never go more than a few hours without me telling you I love you. I'll show up wherever you're working just to give you a hug and a kiss, and make sure you don't forget it. And I'll annoy the hell out of, but you won't mind too much, because I'll make you happy too."

Eddie can think of more. He can think about so many things. How he could give Steve one of his rings, even if they couldn't legally get married, even if Steve would never want that. Just as another reminder that he's loved. They could take trips together and go out to parties where Steve will never have to worry about getting ditched. Eddie doesn't do things halfway, and he has a hell of an imagination. He could picture them growing old together, if he tried, if he let himself. But this is just for tonight, so he doesn't. Instead he runs a hand through Steve's hair again, and listens to his quiet breathing. He thinks he may have fallen asleep, but he's wrong.

"That sounds nice."

It comes out muffled, spoken into Eddie's neck, but he manages to make it out, and he let's the vibration of it sink into his skin.

*It's only for tonight.*

He has to remind himself, because Steve is just feeling lonely. He doesn't want that future with Eddie, he just wants to feel loved.

But even if it's just pretend, just to help Steve for a few hours, he's okay with that.

Steve may think he's broken, but Eddie thinks he would be easy to love for a long time. Loving him for one night is nothing. He doesn't even have to try.

Tomorrow Steve will wake up sober, and he'll thank Eddie for letting him stay over, and they won't talk about it. Eddie will drive Steve back to his car in silence, and they'll say their goodbyes. They may not talk ever again, they never had before.

But for tonight? Eddie Munson will love Steve Harrington, and Steve? He'll let himself be loved, let himself beleive it. And he'll love Eddie right back.

Just for one night.

And if Steve ever needs it again? Eddie will love him for another night. And Steve will give that love right back. He's got plenty to spare, after all. And there's far worse people he could share it with.

[thetrashiestoftrash]

As a Texan, I have an important question. Ignoring any dietary restrictions, including vegetarianism (which I think might be illegal in Texas? I don't know, I left to be gay):

It's all or nothing. I am not asking whether you, personally, would prefer to have chili with beans. The question is: are beans a quintessential element of chili?

[averyfawkes]

I wake up feeling wonderful and energized. I look and realize that I just slept in my underwear. I was so exhausted yesterday that I thought I would have a fever the next day. But this morning, I feel renewed and full of energy. I notice my morning wood poking out of my underwear. I was about to reach down and start jerking off when I heard this voice in my head.

I want to fuck someone. I'm so fucking horny. I hope I can find a tight ass to fuck soon. I'm so horny that I can fuck my pillow and shoot my load in it.

I realize how horny I am right now and simply jerking it off won't relieve it. I turn to my stomach and start rubbing my cock against my bed, humping the air as if I'm fucking someone. I got so lost in lust that I didn't notice that I'm actually leaking pre-cum right now. What is wrong with me? I need to pull myself together.

As much as I want to stand up and start my day, I find myself stuck in my bed, humping like there's no tomorrow, and almost on the verge of orgasm. I feel my body stiffening before I moan while my cock shoots out into my mattress. I heave on my bed, trying to regain some sense of control in this situation. As I feel myself getting down from my orgasmic high, I slowly rise from my bed and see the mess I made. I reluctantly pulled away my bed cover since I just replaced it 2 days ago. I walk towards my washer and toss everything inside, along with my stained underwear. I decide to get a cup of coffee first before I shower, just to clear out my mind.

I brew a pot of coffee and put 2 pieces of bread inside the toaster. I should cook breakfast but I'm still feeling squeamish from what happened in my bed. I just let out a deep sigh and realized that I haven't cummed like that for quite a long time now. It's like my whole body is on fire and all I can think about is cumming my brains out. I guess being a doctor made me spend less time on dating that I haven't had any good fuck for a long time. I miss that, and I think I should get back into dating again.

Yeah, you should find huge, muscular men and have them fuck your ass until you can't walk.

Shit, how awesome it would be to install Grindr and find myself a nice hot stud that can fuck me until I can't walk. But I have lots of appointments for the day. I can't just skip all of that for a simple booty call. My patients need me and I want to be there for them when they do.

But I want to get fucked. I want to have a big, juicy dick pumping in and out of my asshole, or a tight, perky butt to pound into. Whatever is easiest to get right now.

But I can't concentrate on my work if I don't deal with this right now. I should call in sick for the day and spend the whole day browsing through all the gay dating apps that I know. Yeah, I think I will do just that. I open my phone and begin downloading a ton of gay dating apps, signing up for accounts, and setting up profiles. I feel so giddy and excited like a teenager but you can't blame me, I haven't tried this before. I'm used to taking the girl I like into romantic dates before waiting for the right time to ask them if they want to have sex with me. Wait, I'm gay right? I don't like women. Why did I date women back then?

Focus on setting up your account, time is running out and you need to get laid, fast.

I shrug my thoughts about women aside as I continue setting up my profiles in different apps. As soon as I finished it, I started to swipe right on anyone that tickles my fancy. They need to be taller than me, older than me, and have a more muscular body than me. Fucking them or getting fucked by them seems hot to me so I don't mind. Just 5 minutes from creating my accounts, I already got a match from a big bear of a man that is so my type. His profile says he's a bottom and a little submissive. He wants me to send him a picture before he agrees to go here in my house. I grin as I get up and walk into my bathroom to snap a decent pic. As I stare at my reflection, I think that I'm hot enough for this guy.

You need to get shirtless. And remember that leather harness you bought for a costume 2 years ago, wear that before you take a picture for this man.

I remember the leather harness that I brought 2 years ago when I was wearing a cop costume. I run up to my storage room and frantically look for that leather harness. As soon as I grab it, I run back to the bathroom, tear off my shirt, and snap a picture before sending it to my match.

He immediately replied and confirmed that he'll be here in 5 mins. I giggle since I never did this before. Letting a complete stranger into my house just for sex is not my usual thing to do but I'm horny and I need someone right now. I waited for five minutes and perked up when I heard the doorbell ring. Before I walk up to my door, I figured that I should put back my shirt since I'm meeting this stranger.

You look so hot right now. Greet him and put him in his place. He's a submissive motherfucker and you will fuck his brains out. You need to turn him on first and wear this leather harness with shirtless.

Nah, I look hot right now. I'll greet him like this and see his reaction. I run up to the door and slowly open it. I see a man staring hungrily at me. I immediately recognized him as my match in the app so I stood aside and let him in. He walks into my house without breaking our eye contact. I close the door behind and lead him into my living room.

"So, how do you want to do this?" I ask him, trying to get the feel of this man.

"How? I want you to spread me wide and eat my ass first before fucking me. Don't worry about condoms, I cleaned out my hole for this. I still won't mind if you want to use one. And since you said that you're discreet, I don't want you greeting me when we meet outside, okay? I have a family and a job to protect. If you can't do that, I'm walking away." The man explains to me as he pulls his shirt away.

Oh no, this man has a family. I don't want to be involved with a family man. I'm no whore. I can do better than this. I should just decline his offer and send him away. This is just a bad idea.

Say yes. You just have to fuck him and you can be on your usual day. No strings attached. That's what he also wants. He wants your cock and you better give it to him good.

"Sure. Is that all?" I find myself saying as I feel myself smirking at the man.

The man then grins back at me as he gets naked and kneels on my sofa, lifting his ass in the air and showing me his asshole. I understand what he wants to say as I pull down my pants and free my rock-hard cock. I was surprised to see my cock already leaking pre-cum but I'm too horny to care. I aggressively slap his bubble butt before I grip his waist and thrust my dick straight into his inviting hole. I moan as soon as my cock penetrated his flesh, starting by slowly thrusting in and out of him.

I let myself feel the rhythm of the man's body before slowly increasing the pace of my thrusts. I feel myself getting lost in pleasure as I hear the man moaning and begging for more. I feel like I'm up for the challenge so I start pounding his ass like there's no tomorrow. The man starts wailing as his legs begin wobbling. I reach out to grab both his arms and begin mercilessly tearing his hole.

But then, I felt something click inside me. Something that I never before. I let out a gutteral moan as I feel my cock explode inside the man's ass. For some reason, I feel the cum shooting out of my cock more thicker and much more viscous than my usual cum. I grab the man's arms tighter and pull him closer to me. I could hear the man begging me to stop for a while but I ignored him. I just keep on pumping my load inside his ass for quite some time. In the middle of my endless orgasm, I feel the man under me begin squirming and twitching out of control. I realized that I've been cumming for a long time now and should have stopped minutes ago. There's clearly something wrong with what's happening and I should check if the man is still okay.

Just hold him tight and keep on pumping him full of my slime. We need to turn him into a puppet just like you. Just keep him in place while I assimilate his mind and body. You love cumming, don't you?

Fuck yeah, I love cumming! Cumming is the best. I will cum my brains out into this horny slut and pump him full of my seed. He won't be walking for days after this. I just have to keep on pumping and pumping cum until you're done turning him into a puppet like me. Wait, I'm a puppet? When did I become a puppet? And who am I talking to? What the hell is happening? I instinctively jumped away from the man as I suddenly pulled out my cock from his ass.

To my surprise, there is a gel-like string connecting my urethra to the man's asshole. My sudden disconnection to the man caused him to become aware of what was happening. He looked behind him and started at the sight of the slime connecting my cock to his butt. I tried to run away but suddenly felt my body instantly getting tired. I fall on the floor as my consciousness fades to black.

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

Nick almost caused me to lose this beautiful, hunky bear. I can't believe that someone with a huge cock wants to bottom. But that doesn't matter anymore since I'm in control now. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and admire my new puppet. I snapped a picture using Nick's phone and sent it to my email address.

I close my eyes and try to access this man's memories again. I tried earlier but I got rejected. Now that he's all clean and calm, I think I can do it. As soon as I open my eyes, his memories begin flowing in my mind like a calm river. I look into the mirror again and smirk.

"You will be a great addition to my collection, Dylan. I assure you that I'll use your body for all it's worth."

[makingqueerhistory]

Queer Books Challenged in Florida Schools and Libraries

There are some affiliate links below in case you want to support MQH.

Gender Queer: A Memoir, Maia Kobabe: Now, Gender Queer is here. Maia's intensely cathartic autobiography charts eir journey of self-identity, which includes the mortification and confusion of adolescent crushes, grappling with how to come out to family and society, bonding with friends over erotic gay fanfiction, and facing the trauma and fundamental violation of pap smears.

The Color Purple, Alice Walker: Separated as girls, sisters Celie and Nettie sustain their loyalty to and hope in each other across time, distance and silence. Through a series of letters spanning nearly thirty years, first from Celie to God, then the sisters to each other despite the unknown, the novel draws readers into its rich and memorable portrayals of Celie, Nettie, Shug Avery and Sofia and their experience. The Color Purple broke the silence around domestic and sexual abuse, narrating the lives of women through their pain and struggle, companionship and growth, resilience and bravery.

Julián Is a Mermaid, Jessica Love: While riding the subway home from the pool with his abuela one day, Julián notices three women spectacularly dressed up. Their hair billows in brilliant hues, their dresses end in fishtails, and their joy fills the train car. When Julián gets home, daydreaming of the magic he's seen, all he can think about is dressing up just like the ladies in his own fabulous mermaid costume: a butter-yellow curtain for his tail, the fronds of a potted fern for his headdress. But what will Abuela think about the mess he makes -- and even more importantly, what will she think about how Julián sees himself? Mesmerizing and full of heart, Jessica Love's author-illustrator debut is a jubilant picture of self-love and a radiant celebration of individuality.

Drama: A Graphic Novel, Raina Telgemeier: Callie loves theater. And while she would totally try out for her middle school's production of Moon over Mississippi, she can't really sing. Instead she's the set designer for the drama department's stage crew, and this year she's determined to create a set worthy of Broadway on a middle-school budget. But how can she, when she doesn't know much about carpentry, ticket sales are down, and the crew members are having trouble working together? Not to mention the onstage AND offstage drama that occurs once the actors are chosen. And when two cute brothers enter the picture, things get even crazier!

Cemetery Boys, Aiden Thomas: Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can't get rid of him. When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his true gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school's resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He's determined to find out what happened and tie off some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

I Am Billie Jean King, Brad Meltzer: This friendly, fun biography series focuses on the traits that made our heroes great--the traits that kids can aspire to in order to live heroically themselves. Each book tells the story of one of America's icons in a lively, conversational way that works well for the youngest nonfiction readers and that always includes the hero's childhood influences. At the back are an excellent timeline and photos. This volume features Billie Jean King, the world champion tennis player who fought successfully for women's rights. From a young age, Billie Jean King loved sports--especially tennis! But as she got older, she realized that plenty of people, even respected male athletes, didn't take women athletes seriously. She set to prove them wrong and show girls everywhere that sports are for everyone, regardless of gender.

This One Summer, Mariko Tamaki: Every summer, Rose goes with her mom and dad to a lake house in Awago Beach. It's their getaway, their refuge. Rosie's friend Windy is always there, too, like the little sister she never had. But this summer is different. Rose's mom and dad won't stop fighting, and when Rose and Windy seek a distraction from the drama, they find themselves with a whole new set of problems. One of the local teens - just a couple of years older than Rose and Windy - is caught up in something bad... Something life threatening. It's a summer of secrets, and sorrow, and growing up, and it's a good thing Rose and Windy have each other.

Marriage of a Thousand Lies, Sj Sindu: Lucky and her husband, Krishna, are gay. They present an illusion of marital bliss to their conservative Sri Lankan-American families, while each dates on the side. It's not ideal, but for Lucky, it seems to be working. She goes out dancing, she drinks a bit, she makes ends meet by doing digital art on commission. But when Lucky's grandmother has a nasty fall, Lucky returns to her childhood home and unexpectedly reconnects with her former best friend and first lover, Nisha, who is preparing for her own arranged wedding with a man she's never met.

And Tango Makes Three, Peter Parnell: At the penguin house at the Central Park Zoo, two penguins named Roy and Silo were a little bit different from the others. But their desire for a family was the same. And with the help of a kindly zookeeper, Roy and Silo got the chance to welcome a baby penguin of their very own.

More Happy Than Not, Adam Silvera: In the months following his father's suicide, sixteen-year-old Aaron Soto can't seem to find happiness again, despite the support of his girlfriend, Genevieve, and his overworked mom. Grief and the smile-shaped scar on his wrist won't let him forget the pain. But when Aaron meets Thomas, a new kid in the neighborhood, something starts to shift inside him. Aaron can't deny his unexpected feelings for Thomas despite the tensions their friendship has created with Genevieve and his tight-knit crew. Since Aaron can't stay away from Thomas or turn off his newfound happiness, he considers taking drastic actions. The Leteo Institute's revolutionary memory-altering procedure will straighten him out, even if it means forgetting who he truly is.

Melissa, Alex Gino: When people look at Melissa, they think they see a boy named George. But she knows she's not a boy. She knows she's a girl.

Melissa thinks she'll have to keep this a secret forever. Then her teacher announces that their class play is going to be Charlotte's Web. Melissa really, really, REALLY wants to play Charlotte. But the teacher says she can't even try out for the part... because she's a boy.

With the help of her best friend, Kelly, Melissa comes up with a plan. Not just so she can be Charlotte -- but so everyone can know who she is, once and for all.

A Quick & Easy Guide to Queer & Trans Identities, Mady G, Jules Zuckerberg: In this quick and easy guide to queer and trans identities, cartoonists Mady G and Jules Zuckerberg guide you through the basics of the LGBT+ world! Covering essential topics like sexuality, gender identity, coming out, and navigating relationships, this guide explains the spectrum of human experience through informative comics, interviews, worksheets, and imaginative examples. A great starting point for anyone curious about queer and trans life, and helpful for those already on their own journeys!

This Book Is Gay, Juno Dawson: This candid, funny, and uncensored exploration of sexuality and what it's like to grow up LGBTQ also includes real stories from people across the gender and sexual spectrums, not to mention hilarious illustrations.

Little & Lion, Brandy Colbert: When Suzette comes home to Los Angeles from her boarding school in New England, she's isn't sure if she'll ever want to go back. L.A. is where her friends and family are (as well as her crush, Emil). And her stepbrother, Lionel, who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, needs her emotional support. But as she settles into her old life, Suzette finds herself falling for someone new...the same girl her brother is in love with. When Lionel's disorder spirals out of control, Suzette is forced to confront her past mistakes and find a way to help her brother before he hurts himself--or worse.

King and the Dragonflies, Kacen Callender: Twelve-year-old Kingston James is sure his brother Khalid has turned into a dragonfly. When Khalid unexpectedly passed away, he shed what was his first skin for another to live down by the bayou in their small Louisiana town. Khalid still visits in dreams, and King must keep these secrets to himself as he watches grief transform his family.

It would be easier if King could talk with his best friend, Sandy Sanders. But just days before he died, Khalid told King to end their friendship, after overhearing a secret about Sandy-that he thinks he might be gay. "You don't want anyone to think you're gay too, do you?"

Sorted: Growing Up, Coming Out, and Finding My Place: A Transgender Memoir, Jackson Bird: An unflinching and endearing memoir from LGBTQ+ advocate Jackson Bird about how he finally sorted things out and came out as a transgender man.When Jackson Bird was twenty-five, he came out as transgender to his friends, family, and anyone in the world with an internet connection. Assigned female at birth and raised as a girl, he often wondered if he should have been born a boy. Jackson didn't share this thought with anyone because he didn't think he could share it with anyone.

The Black Flamingo, Dean Atta: Michael is a mixed-race gay teen growing up in London. All his life, he's navigated what it means to be Greek-Cypriot and Jamaican--but never quite feeling Greek or Black enough.

As he gets older, Michael's coming out is only the start of learning who he is and where he fits in. When he discovers the Drag Society, he finally finds where he belongs--and the Black Flamingo is born

Explore the full list here.

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

Tintin through time! 

Thought it would be fun to have my various designs for Tintin in one post. The canon comics have a floating timeline and Tintin never ages. I think rooting him in a specific time and context makes him feel a little more real (also I am a sucker for historical fiction). Click below for a potted timeline and notes about each design!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - in my timeline Tintin was born in 1915, a year into the First World War. He was probably picked on a lot by his peers for being small, ginger and slightly effeminate, and was picked on by adults for being “difficult” and asking too many questions.

Early canon - He leaves school early and becomes a reporter at 14. He’s unhinged, he’s blasé, he dresses like Spongebob. Coming right out of Catholic school he has a lot of unhealthy beliefs he needs to confront and unlearn. I imagine his editor is a pretty shady person as they are willing to send this kid off to dangerous places. His naivety prevents him from spotting any red flags at first.

Late canon - Tintin as we know him! His journalism career is at its peak at the tender age of 17. He’s found a family and stability at Marlinspike. His politics are evolving. He is, however, pretty neglectful of his own personal life, almost fully focusing on his career. He’s starting to grow wary of his editor and they frequently argue, Tintin often winning out as he knows it’s his articles that sell papers.

Young adult - With the Second World War breaking out this is an unstable time in his life. He’s come to terms with being gay but is fired from his paper after being forcibly outed. Tintin and the Marlinspike team take fighting fascism into their own hands. 

For his design here he wears a turtleneck like Captain Haddock, glasses like Professor Calculus (also representing a renewed perspective on things) and his hair is more relaxed like Chang’s! The idea was to show how he has been impacted by the people he cares about. 

After the war ends he struggles with unemployment and burnout, insecure that he might have peaked as a teenager.

Middle aged - It’s the late 50s - early 60s, Tintin is jaded and cynical but still kind and willing to help others. He is absolutely horrified by the events of WW2 and carries an enormous sense of guilt, feeling he didn’t do enough. His faith in journalism has also been thoroughly shaken, witnessing the spectacular failing of the system himself, and realising there are people who genuinely do not care for the truth, and are only concerned with power. 

Elderly - if he somehow makes it to old age he’d be a chaotic little old man who doesn’t give a Single Shit. It’s the late 80s and early 90s, at this point he has retired from journalism and has published his own books, and has taken to becoming a full time political activist (here he’s wearing an AIDS awareness ribbon from 1991, in the 70s Herge had Tintin wear a helmet displaying a symbol for nuclear disarmament). Kids adore him, cops hate him! 

He has taken to technology, being an early adopter of the Internet and desktop computers. He and Chang have since been able to reunite with Chang’s family and they often spend time with Didi’s grandkids!

I don’t know what would kill him. Old age? A car bomb? Maybe he falls over badly and bangs his head one last time. I don’t think it’s my place to decide.

[daisykihannie]

𝚂𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 | 𝙻.𝙼𝙷

pairing: Dom!Minho x Ftm!Reader

warnings: size kink, smut, nsfw, established relationship, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, body worship, oral (receiving), overstimulation, just one slap, begging, etc.

a/n: ngl this is a bit self indulgent as a 182cm muscular Transman but oh well

Minho was a bit on the shorter side, being only 172cm tall but size doesn’t matter right? It was just a fact for Minho that he was short, it never really bothered him much as he grew up. Yeah, he got bullied for it as a teenager but he was past all of that right? At least he thought that was the case until he started dating a man who was 182cm tall.

It started to get annoying. The way people would whisper when you two would go on dates together. Muffled voices talking about how his boyfriend was certainly the man in the relationship simply because of his muscular build, broad shoulders, and his height. First of all, they’re in a gay relationship so they were both the man but he also knew that was the socially acceptable way to call him a bottom.

Why the hell were so many people concerned with his sex life? Even scrolling on tiktok took a turn as he saw edit after edit plaguing his for you page. Normally the edits were endearing when speaking about the two of you, how cute you were together, how all the hottest men were gay, etc. but then they suddenly were all about how he was the “baby girl” and how easily you’d be able to manhandle him. Even going as far to call him a fucking Omega and you an Alpha, truly what the fuck stay?

“Hey kitten?” Minho called from where he was seated on the couch in your apartment. You turned away from the counter where you were chopping vegetables for the dinner you were making the two of you to look at him over the kitchen island. “I thought i told you to stop calling me that.” you grumbled and squinted your eyes at him. “oh hush, i know you love it.” he cooed in a teasing tone.

“What’s up my love?” you asked and leaned across the island, propping yourself up on your elbows. The muscles in your biceps and pecs tensed and relaxed as you got comfortable. You were currently shirtless and just wearing an apron and your athletic shorts, it was the middle of summer and it was far too hot to be cooking at the stove and wear anymore than you were. Plus, you knew how much your boyfriend admired your muscles, his size kink and all.

“Why do Stay think I'm a bottom when we are seen together? Does my appearance scream that I take it in the ass or something?” Minho asked and you barked out a laugh at the thought and Minho's bluntness. “First of all, I don't have a dick so there’s no way you could take it up the ass. Unless you have a side piece, do you have a side piece Lee Minho?” you couldn’t help but tease him a bit, he always gave the best reactions.

“You did not just call me by my government name… L/N F/N.” he groaned and tried to give you his best threatening expression but he honestly looked like he was going to cry hearing you call him his real name. “It’s Lee Y/N, thank you very much.” you blew him a kiss and turned back to the pot on the stove, stirring the pasta a bit and flipping the searing beef. “I hope you know that there is no way I could have a side piece, I don’t like people enough and I already have my hands full dealing with you kitten.” he retorted.

You let out an annoyed groan at him using that pet name again, he didn’t need to know that you were getting worked up from it. “Also, you could get a strap. That’s something to take up the ass.” Minho answered and you smirked at that. turning back around to face him. “Is this your way of asking me to fuck you in the ass with my strap? I didn’t think you’d-“ you were cut off by minho shouting “NO I ABSOLUTELY AM NOT ASKING YOU TO FUCK ME- SHUT UP!” his face flushed red either in embarrassment or annoyance. There’s no way in hell your boyfriend would ever bottom, even with your best puppy dog eyes and begging.

“Ugh! can you just answer my question please? Why does EVERYONE think that I'm the bottom in this relationship?” Minho buried his face in his hands and threw his head back against the couch. “Maybe because you’re smaller than me and unbelievably adorable~” you cooed, not even trying to tease him this time. It was a genuine explanation and honestly the only one you could think of considering you’re the only one other than Minho himself who’s aware of your dynamics in the bedroom.

“Seriously? That’s so fucking annoying. It’s not my fault I stopped growing.” Minho grumbled, clearly this whole thing was bothering him more than he let off. Turning off the stove, you moved to sit next to your boyfriend on the couch. “Min baby, does it bother you that much?” you asked with genuine concern. You’re a fixer, if there’s a problem or someone is upset you can’t help but want to fix it and make them feel better. This unfortunately wasn’t a situation you’d be able to fix.

“No… it’s just- i don’t know.” he grumbled and leaned his head against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around yours and snuggled into your side. “Does sir wanna prove he’s not a bottom? Fuck your kitten so good that he can’t walk tomorrow?” you purred into the top of his head and flexed the bicep that he held onto. The growl that ripped from his chest in response had your pussy gushing and eager. “That sounds like a perfect idea babyboy~”

All you did was blink and now you were pinned to the couch cushions with Minho towering over you. He slotted his knee between your legs and used his thigh to apply pressure to your throbbing cocklet. You were already so hard and wet, yet he hasn’t even touched you properly. A small whimper left your lips as you tried to rut against his thigh but ultimately the tiny amount of friction just wasn’t enough. “So needy you wanna use my thigh to get off? You’re such a pathetic slut for me aren’t you? My pretty little slut.” he groaned out and you couldn’t help but preen at his words.

Yes, you might be stronger than Minho physically and larger than him but the way he could easily overpower you and have your brain melting was insane. His presence alone was powerful and his words had a way of making you weak, not that you wanted to fight back in the first place. You are putty in his hands, he owns your heart, your mind, and especially your body. It’s as if you were created with Minho in mind, made to be his other half, made to compliment and complete him.

“m-more…” you moaned out while trying to grind against his thigh, both your hands still pinned to the couch. “What’s that? you’re gonna have to use your words pretty boy.” minho cooed, encouraging you’re already mushy brain to try to work and form actual coherent sentences. “Sir- please… need you so bad.” you whimpered, desperate.

“You already have me baby, i’m all yours and your mine.” minhos response came out in a fond and loving tone, almost sickly sweet. Unfortunately he didn’t move to give you what you were failing to ask for. You were well aware that he knew exactly what you meant but Minho never gave you anything easily, you had to earn his compliance and you weren’t anything if not obedient to him.

“Need your cock sir… need you to fuck me dumb on your cock please please please… fuck- n-need to be split open on Sir’s cock…” you whimpered out, so needy and desperate that you felt like you could cry. You simply had no self control when it came to your boyfriend, it was addicting to be under him and his control like this. The way he fucked you with his eyes, the cat like eyes piercing through you, the taunting smirk on his lips that showed his cute bunny teeth. He was so cute but so fucking evil at the same time and you loved it.

“Good boy~ i guess your brain does work after all. All these muscles but still so so weak for me. My perfect oversized cock sleeve.” His words rushed straight to your cocklet and you couldn’t bite down the moan that rattled out of your throat. His words were painfully true, you were a weak oversized cock sleeve for him and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Minho pulled away from you, earning a whine in protest. You were already slipping so far away that the small amount of space he put between your bodies was too far. While Minho was pre-occupied with removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt, you leaned forward to lick and bite at the pale skin covering his abs. You mouthed at his flesh sloppily, making his perfect skin glisten with your saliva, savoring the taste of sweat on his skin.

Luckily he allowed you to do what was needed to satiate yourself while he stripped, he untied your apron next, throwing it somewhere in the room and moving to remove your shorts and boxers in one move. Once you were both bare he pushed you away from his body, making your back bounce off the plush cushions of the couch momentarily from the sheer force he put into it. You learned a long time ago that his smaller frame was a deception, he was strong as hell even though it wasn’t obvious aside from the size of his muscular thighs.

You whimpered when Minho forced your legs apart, admiring your hardened cocklet and glistening pussy. You hid your face in the crook of your elbow and looked to the side, still insecure about your body and where it was still biologically female. You tried to hide it in the muscles and the masculine results of being on Testosterone for a while. You even got top surgery but you still couldn’t bury the way you hated having a pussy.

“My pretty boy~ so pretty and wet for me. I will never get tired of seeing your hard cock and your leaking pussy. I wish you could see just how pretty you are for me.” He cooed, his words genuine as he worshiped your body. He always made sure to tell you how much he loved the parts you were most insecure about. “Maybe i should show you how much i love it~”

Before you had a chance to register his words in your cotton candy brain, you felt his tongue lapping at the juices flooding out of you, wrapping his pretty lips around your cocklet and letting out a deep guttural groan. “My pretty boys cock always tastes so fucking delicious. I just can’t get enough of how you taste on my tongue.” and Minho was diving in again.

You were a moaning mess under his tongue. Your hands were flailing around, trying to find purchase on something, needing to grip something, anything, to stay on earth while he sucked you off like his life depended on it. At this point, Minho was doing this for his own pleasure, drunk on your taste and the noises you made. “Can’t find anything to hold onto pretty boy? it’s okay to use my hair my love. Feel free to pull on it, use it to ride my face, i can take it.” His voice was thick with his arousal and his chin and nose was soaked with your juices.

Both of your hands carded into his hair and held on tight, the moan he let out sent vibrations straight through your most sensitive parts and you couldn’t help bucking your hips up to meet his tongue. “That’s it, ride my face like a good boy.” he mumbled against your core, the knot in your stomach tightening further. You were close, so painfully close but you didn’t want him to stop and you could tell from the expression on Minhos face as you watched him between your legs that he didn’t want to stop either.

“fuck! cl-close- so fucking close… s’good feels so- nggh!” you cried out and your thighs threatened to camp down on the sides of his head if it weren’t for his hands pining them down to the couch with a bruising grip. Your hips and thighs trembled and the muscles spasmed under his hold but he didn’t pull away or slow down. He stayed buried between your legs, drinking down all of your release with a groan and his eyes fluttering and rolling back in his head slightly as he savored your release on his tongue.

Once you were jolting away from Minho in overstimulation, he finally came out from between your legs and made his way back up your body. “Taste just how delicious you are baby.” He said in a sultry tone, diving in to slot his lips between yours in a wet and sloppy kiss. The kiss was hungry and desperate with teeth clashing together and tongues battling for dominance in the kiss. Minho obviously won and took control of the kiss, his hands pawing at your body as you both swallowed each others moans in the kiss.

He was rutting his hips against your cocklet, his length getting drenched in your fluids and his own saliva as it dragged across your sensitive spots. His head would catch on your entrance a few times but he never pushed in, eliciting heady moans from you as you angled your hips to hopefully get him inside you and failing none the less.

“Min- please… just fuck me already damnit.” you growled, growing impatient with his teasing. “oh? that’s not the way you talk to someone you want something from now is it?” a slap landed to your left cheek, not super hard but enough to sting. A choked moan left your throat, followed by a whimper as you looked up at the man above you with pleading eyes. “p-please baby…” you whined.

“That’s better. Good boy.” he leaned in, taking your lips in his own again and slammed into you, buried to the hilt in one thrust. “God fuck! Always so fucking tight for me.” Minho groaned and began to thrust. He’d pull out almost all the way, leaving just the very tip inside before slamming back in and angling his hips to hit your sweet spot repeatedly.

“This pussy is fucking mine. Got it? No one can ever fuck you like i do. You were made for me. Mine.” Minho grunted out and picked up his pace, still slamming into you as hard as he can everytime. “y-yours. all yours min. Fuck! m-made for you- s’good! fuck me s’good.” you were babbling now, sentences coming out slurred and almost incoherent as you felt the familiar tightening of that knot in your lower stomach.

“Getting fucked so good you can’t even think. All you know is me and my cock. How good i make you feel. My perfect, oversized cock sleeve. Your muscles are fucking useless when I wreck you like this.” Minho became more talkative, a sign he was getting close with the way you clenched around him and the pathetic sounds you let out filling your apartment, loud and uncaring of who heard. They’d know exactly who was the top in this relationship.

“m-min- I- close…” you could barely speak at this point, you could feel your impending orgasm from your toes to your fingers and in your head. You body trembling at the sensitivity as you fought back your climax. “Me too baby, gonna pump you full of my cum. Go ahead and cum for me like a good boy.” Minho growled out, leaning down to be close to your ear and pushing his chest to yours. The added weight to your body combined with his words were all it took to have your orgasm hitting you hard and fast.

Minho continued fucking you through it, filling you up shortly after and riding out his own orgasm. You were trembling underneath him and whining in overstimulation. Minho took a moment, his body collapsed over yours, catching his breath before he had to clean you up. He pulled out with a hiss at the sensitivity of his cock head dragging against your walls that were still spasming. He sat up and watched his cum spill out of you for a moment, taking a picture for his personal collection before going to the bathroom to get a wet wash cloth and cleaning you up.

After you were both clean, he put his own boxers back on before putting you in yours. While you fought sleep, he went to the kitchen to reheat the dinner you were cooking. He made each of you a plate before bringing them to the living room and placing them both on the coffee table, turning on the TV for you both to watch. He lifted you up from where you were laying and tugged you into his side, wrapping one arm around you and using his other hand to scoop up some food and begging feeding you.

Somehow, you looked small in his hold. The sight of your large muscular body looking small against his clearly smaller frame fueling his size kink further. “I love you so much Y/N, my big baby.” Minho said and placed a kiss to the top of your head while you chewed what he’d fed you. “Love you too Min, so much.” you said with a smile on your face and cheeks still stuffed with pasta.

[kianaisspiraling]

*inhales*

WILD LIFE WILD LIFE WILDLIFEWILDLIFEWIL—

Okay okay so so far I've only watched Grian's pov but I'm gonna be binging soooo many others right after this.

First off- Skizz, Mumbo and Grian is just. Such an unexpected and silly group, I love them. Skizz, loyal to the bone. Grian, loyal but can switch sides if needed; won't betray you first. And Mumbo; the least loyal guy on the server, goes completely bonkers the moment he turns red

They also all just like. Carry themselves so seriously? But will very quickly devolve into being incredibly silly? So so silly. They will NOT last long, they're gonna fall apart faster than the Southlands for sure with the cheating allegations Mumbo is throwing at Grian, but it'll be hilarious :)

Grian: apologizing for knowing the wild cards beforehand

Me: smiles and adds it to the pile of Watcher Grian lore

Moving on from them:

*inhales again*

MISSING DOG FOUND-?!?

AND WE GOT TREEBARK BACK!!!!!! :D

The sheer happiness I felt when I saw Ren back oh my void, we missed you buddy. Martyn immediately pairing up with Ren whenever they are on the same server has my heart. They're theatre kids your honor. Can't wait to see Ren pull out his guitar <3

We also have TEAM CRINGE-FAIL-?! Lizzie, Scar, Jimmy all on the same team-? That's amazing. It would be hilarious if THIS is the season Tim wins. SURELY having such a high concentration of loser (affectionate) energy will circle around to make them clutch. Surely. It's their moment.

Smth smth, Lizzie and Scar were the only two people alone last season. Smth smth, Lizzie died first and Scar last. Smth smth, Scar reaches out an unconditional hand to Lizzie, offering her an ally because he knows what it's like to be without. Smth smth, Lizzie accepts because she knows waiting for allies leads to none. They're friends now :)

I also heard Scar brought the reputation points back?? If that's true then oml we're so close to getting a Third Life parody. So so close, especially with Scar falling off a cliff and dying while singing, claiming that everything that touches the light is his. It is SUCH a good season for us folks that never left the desert. Bonus points if Grian ends up with Scar after the Sub-One Club inevitably crumbles.

We've ALSO got the op, terrifying duo of Gem and Joel. They are going to be SO unhinged. They will be the chaos group this season, mark my words. They will inevitably fuck shit up and I am WAITING for it. Manifesting Gem or Joel win >:)

And over here we've got three of the divorce quartet (Scott, Pearl, and Cleo) allied with the local supportive dad (Impluse). Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone outside or in between, we once again have the girls, the gays, and ImpulseSV. Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, girldad <3

The three of them just reminiscing on Double Life while Impulse stays quiet, internally remembering his little life in the suburbs with Bdubs as they stirred the pot and watched drama unfold. He DOES NOT have anything to add to this conversation on messy divorce.

Also apparently Scott canonically believes that HE'S the reason Jimmy broke the canary curse and Scar won in secret life?? Because he stopped them from allying together last season or something?? That's just wonderful to me. I don't think he's entirely wrong either, they would've destroyed each other SO quickly

Now, getting on to BigB and whatever he's got going on. Something DEFINITELY happened to him in that hole last season, because he is getting increasingly cryptic. OF COURSE he would live in the Pale Garden with the Creaking. Where else would he go??

I absolutely love everyone making BigB a Creaking hybrid, but hear me out: BigB has ALSO been made a watcher by the fandom in previous seasons because of things like the Nosy Neighbors in Limited Life and his Whole Thing in Secret Life, right? You know what the Watchers are often compared to? Biblically accurate angels. You know what the Creaking has been compared to? Weeping Angels. BigB is a Weeping Angel.

(Maybe Weeping Angels are a type of Watcher. they're closely related to the Creaking; perhaps they made it?)

(I have not watched Doctor Who, though I'd like to. All I know is that Weeping Angels are VERY Watcher-core to me <3)

Finally we have a classic trio of Etho, Bdubs, and Tango. They're taming horses, they're non-stop bickering, they DO NOT share, it's every man for themselves. Tango is third wheeling Ethubs so much rn. They get on each other's nerves. They're besties, after all they keep putting themselves together no matter how much they bicker. Team BET ily <3

Love that Etho IMMEDIATELY tries to ally with the local Watcher for inside information, but Grian refuses to give it to him. It was worth a shot, buddy. I adore every second of screen time in which Grian and Etho interact. They are SUCH a good duo for me. One Stick Wither and Etho's Dishwasher, you will forever be famous <3

Anyhow, I think that covers everything I have to say for now, having watched one pov and scrolled Tumblr for a while. I cannot WAIT for this season, as there's a lot of stuff from previous seasons coming back, with Renchanting, the divorce quartet, Scar bringing back reputation points, and more. I can't wait to see this unfold :D

[anon-sect]

There’s not enough unwilling cock tf content out there

I agree, so here is another one for you.

Picture source: @man-in-charge

Jason had been smoking pot the previous night. He was surprised when he was selected for the random drug test at work the next day. He knew his job had a no drug policy. He would be fired immediately if he tested positive. He went to the one guy at work who didn't like him much for help.

"Hey, Devin. Could you help me with something?" Jason asked him, not sure if the guy would help, given their work relationship.

Devin looked over at Jason, wondering what he needed. They never saw eye to eye at work. Why would he ask him for help, he thought. "Depends on if I am interested in helping you." He spoke honestly.

"I need to pass this randomly selected drug test. If I don't, my job is toast. Please, help me this one time." Jason pleaded.

"Why would I have interest in helping you keep your job?" Devin responded in an uninterested tone of voice.

"Please dude, help me out. I am begging you." Jason pleaded one more time. He didn't want to lose his job over one mistake of the previous night.

Devin decided to help him, but on one condition. "I will help, but when I request something of you, you have to do it. You have to promise this, or you don't get my help." He had a smirk on his face seeing Jason squirm at that condition.

Jason didn't like it, but he saw that this was his only solution. "Okay, I promise, when you make a request of me, I will do it." He saw Devin extended his hand to shake on it. They both shook hands. Devin left and came back holding a small enough amount of his own piss in a small bottle. He handed it over to him. He managed to sneak in the bottle at the test. He exchanged the piss into the new bottle and submitted it.

One week later.....

Devin cornered Jason in the restroom and locked the door. "Time to pay up." He told him.

Jason was curious as to what Devin wanted till he noticed him u zipping his pants. He shook his head as he realized what his coworker wanted. "No way, dude. Seriously, this?" He objected without Devin even saying it.

"Blow me right now and swallow my cum." Devin told him quietly with a devilish smile. He pulled down his underwear to reveal his cock. "Remember, you promised. It's my request, so you have to do it." He added.

Jason shook his head again. "Request something else, please." He didn't want to suck his coworker's dick. He wasn't going to do that. He was straight, not some gay guy.

"Do it, or tell everyone how you loved my dick." Devin threatened, knowing full well that he would go through with his threat.

Jason realized that if he didn't, some would believe Devin. He got to his knees and began to suck it. He continued to move his mouth over and over on his cock. It got hard in his mouth. As soon as it got rock hard, he knew Devin was about to release. He didn't want to swallow, but Devin wasn't going to be denied such pleasure. Devin held his head over his dick as hot cum lathered his tongue. He was forced to swallow every last drop. He thought it was over till he noticed that he could take his mouth off of Devin's cock. He heard him laugh from above.

"You swallowed my cum, now I can change you into anything I want. My cum has that ability. You will be my dick now." Devin laughed as he watched Jason shrink in size and merge with his cock. A few minutes later, Jason was gone. Devin had an extra four inches to his cock. He pulled up his underwear and zipped up his pants, and went back to work.

Later that night, Devin felt his cock twitching in his underwear. He went to his bathroom to take a selfie. His cock twitched even more. He loved it. He now had a living cock. It felt great to have a guy be his cock for the rest of his life. "Feels like you are excited down there. I think I should head to the gay bar tonight and give you some action." He laughed.

Jason was horrified and angry at the same time. He wasn't gay, but he was now the cock of another guy. His twitching was a protest to what Devin did, not excitement. He didn't want anyone sucking him or shoved into anyone's ass. It was bad enough when Devin had to go pee. He could still taste the nastiness of his urine. He was now a cock on a gay guy from work. Owing him a favor turned into his worst nightmare.

[yearningagain]

it's enough (to make a girl blush): chapter two

HELLO!!! welcome to chapter two! i'm amazed at the traction that this has gained with just the first chapter, and it's giving me so much motivation to continue this!

i've also decided to open up my ask box for suggestions for rambles and ficlets, so please shoot me a message if you feel so inclined!

and of course a huge thank you to @kayleeofcamelot for betaing and helping me so much!! without further ado!

also on ao3!

total wc: 2.6k | wc: 1.4k | rating: e (18+) | pairing: steddie | cw: none | tags: a/b/o, alpha eddie munson, omega steve harrington, modern au, baker steve, famous eddie, getting together, gay eddie, bi steve, soulmates/true mates/scent mates, side buckingham

part one | part three

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Steve loved Robin more than he thought he could love anyone. She was the peanut butter to his jelly, the rock to his roll, the yin to his yang. He doesn't know how he managed as long as he did before meeting her, and he frankly doesn't know what he would do without her now. 

That being said, sometimes she does make Steve want to give himself another concussion. 

Lunch at the deli had been uneventful. They had eaten their sandwiches while nestled in the window booth in the back corner, turned to look out onto the streets of Chicago. Most of their conversation was driven by judgmental comments about passerby’s, ranging from jabs about interesting color choices on someone's tracksuit to monologues about wearing a faux fur coat with cheetah print leggings (“It’s the principle, Rob! You wouldn’t get it”).

After finishing their meals, the pair made their way across the street to the record store. Upon entry, Steve was surrounded by deep earthy scents, old vinyl and incense mingled with the fresh flowers growing in pots littered about. And that brought them to their current situation.

Robin was making a complete and utter fool out of herself. She was bright red in the face, and Steve couldn’t tell if it was from pure mortification or her complete lack of breathing for the past five minutes. As soon as a little blonde omega, introduced as Chrissy, emerged from the shelves to greet them and show them around, the alpha had not been able to stop her mouth from running and running. Now, normally in these situations, Steve would insert himself into Robin's one sided conversation and slow her down, purely to rescue the other person from being roped into a woven tale of at least six subjects at once. But after one look at Chrissy, and the adoration and attentiveness in her expression, he decided to leave it be. 

At the back corner of the shop was a small gathering of armchairs, a loveseat, and a small wooden coffee table. Plopping down into the comfiest looking chair, leaving the girls to their own devices, Steve pulled out his phone to start tackling the sea of messages he had received during the night. 

Dusty

12:58 AM: STEVE

STEVEN

12:59 AM: STEVEN HARRINGTON

STEVEN LOUISE HARRINGTON

1:01 AM: do you even love me anymore

1:08 AM: if i were dying i'd be dead by now

1:14 AM: ☠️☠️🩸🩸

1:27 AM: okay whatever goodnight steven text me when you’re  alive again ig 🙄

11:39 AM: Jesus Christ kid

That’s not even my name

11:40 AM: Did you die?

11:41 AM: no

11:41 AM: So what was so important?

11:43 AM: before i say anything i want to remind you that  i know all of your secrets and also you love me sooo much  and you’re the best babysitter ever and you owe me for  letting my mom hire you at the shop

11:44 AM: Dustin. What did you do.

11:44 AM: nothing!

i didn’t do anything i swear on my mother

11:45 AM: Okay…

So…?

11:46 AM: my favorite band is playing here next month but its an 18+ show

mom would never come with me, she’d have a heart attack i think

so i need you to take me

11:48 AM: i can pay for your ticket if you want!

11:50 AM: steve?

A loud crash echoed from within the shop, followed by an extremely disheveled Robin popping her head into the nook. "I need your help."

—

Leaving the girls was both the best and worst decision Steve could have made. 

In the ten minutes of inattentiveness, the alpha had managed to talk for seven of them consecutively. After realizing she had been talking herself in circles, she tried to reign it in, which ultimately ended in her accidental confession of attraction towards Chrissy. That then led to a kiss-turned-make-out, in which Robin had tried to push the shorter girl against a wall for more leverage. However, blinded by her circumstances, she pushed the omega into one of the shelves, effectively knocking it and its contents to the ground. They were old antique shelves that had been modified with basket-drawers to store records and other miscellaneous objects, they were heavy . 

Steve would be upset, but the dark blush and lovesick smile never quite left Robin's face. 

With that mess dealt with, he was finally able to respond to Dustin. He shot a quick 'Sure. Just LMK the deets ' text and slid his phone back into his pocket. Chrissy led them both back to the nook, bustling about and making sure they were comfortable.

"Steve, I am so incredibly sorry about that! Please sit here, let me go grab something and I'll be right back!" She dashed off down a small hallway towards the back of the building.

Steve shook his head at Robin, sighing loudly. "Couldn't keep it in your pants?"

The alpha huffed and looked away. She huffed again, this time more of a sniff. And then again. 

"Steve, are you fucking with me or something?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, he followed suit in her actions by taking his own sniff of the air. "What? What's going on?"

She continues sniffing, seemingly following the scent. Standing from her spot on the loveseat, laser focused on tracking, she walks right over to Steve.

"Your scent, it's changing. I knew it was different this morning! I know what you smell like, dingus. And you don't smell like you anymore. Well, okay, you still smell like you! But it's like you're roasting apples in the woods on a camping trip. And you've always smelled like apples, so I'm glad that's the same, but now it's different. Has anything weird happened lately? Have you felt different at all? Do you have a fever?" Her curiosity morphs into concern and she starts placing her hands over the omegas face, seeing if she can tell the temperature. "I've never been good at this. Should we go to the doctor? Do we need an ambulance? Shit, did you get poisoned?"

Steve grabbed her hands firmly, guiding them to his chest and taking a deep breath. "Breathe. I'm not dying, Robs. I think I'd know if I was." He takes a few more measured breaths, pulling her down into his lap for a hug. 

After he was sure she was calm, he relaxed his grip, but didn't let go. "I was actually meaning to ask you about something. Nothing bad, I promise! I just... I had this really weird dream last night and I woke up convinced it had actually happened. I was so convinced there would be physical proof, but there wasn't any. But I could smell the alpha in my dream. Have you ever had a dream where you could smell the other people?"

Robin looked at him calculatingly, a crease forming in her brow at the thought. "No, never. I didn't think it was a thing that happened."

"Exactly. I could smell him, birdie. I could feel him. It was real . Until it wasn't. I woke up heartbroken. For no real reason." He sighed once more, lowering his gaze to his fingers rested in his lap.

"Okay, I am so sorry once again, and I had no intention to eavesdrop whatsoever, but I want to help." Chrissy emerged from the hallway with a plate of mini cupcakes, a sheepish expression. 

Steve waved her off. "It's all good. If you don't think I'm crazy, I don't mind suggestions."

She set the plate of cupcakes onto the coffee table and sat down on the loveseat. Robin quickly scrambled off of Steve to sit next to the other omega, shooting him an apologetic glance. 

"So, basically, I read this book once, out of pure curiosity, that was about fate and the universe and all that. It had a whole section about how, years and years ago, alphas and omegas were randomly going through what seemed to be second presentations. It started with scent changes, and apparently a lot of people experienced some sort of initial mental connection. These changes were way less severe, and oftentimes not noticeable until a random heat or rut was triggered. When that would happen, it was always a pair at a time, one alpha and one omega. The moment they would smell the other for the first time is the moment their respective presentations would complete. They'd come out the other side bonded and, most often, pupped. Their bodies were preparing."

Steve stared at Chrissy, mouth agape. "Preparing for what, exactly?"

"Their soulmate!"

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 7

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, mentions of cartels, grief, smut

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: The chapter where we find out why Ted is on Beau's punch list aka The One With Ted... 😂

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Storm Coming

May 2021

“I sold the house,” you said, your voice ripping through the quiet of the car during another starry stake-out night.

“So you’re homeless now?” Beau joked and peeled his eyes away from the front window view and glanced at you from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel, the other one in his lap.

You chuckled. “Yup, but I got a hot plate now in my motel room and one of those Italian moka pots. So, you know, some would say I’m living the dream.”

Beau snorted in amusement before he pensively rubbed his mouth with two fingers. “You didn’t have to sell the house, you know?”

You heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda did, though… I didn’t like staying in there anymore. It’s just… too many memories, I guess? ‘Sides, I’m always down here anyways. Actually considering moving here.”

Beau frowned at you, his nose scrunching. “What, to Mexico? Are you nuts? Over my dead body are you doin’ that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a say in it,” you retorted rather playfully and put a shocked palm on your chest in mock.

“Damn right, I do,” Beau scoffed his reply with a teasing grin. “Who do you think is lookin’ out for ya, huh?”

“Wait, you think you are? That’s what you believe?” You snorted a laugh, entering banter territory with him.

It was usually how you passed your time during most of these stake-outs – laughing, teasing, and the occasional talking about your problems. You’d never known Beau like this before. He was your husband’s best friend, but he had been more of an acquaintance to you. Now, after months of spending close to every day together, it felt like he was your best friend. Since Randy’s death, he’d been there for you, even if it was mostly out of guilt.

“Yeah, what d’you think?” Beau countered challengingly.

“Oh sweetie, you’re not looking after me. I’m looking after you,” you stated confidently. The smile that twitched on his lips seemed to actually agree with you. “Out of the two of us, you’re the way bigger wreck. Some would even think it’s your husband who died, not mine.”

“Are you calling me a girl?”

You coolly shrugged your shoulders. “Either I’m calling you a girl, or I’m calling you gay. I’ll let you pick.”

Laughingly, Beau scoffed and muttered, “You wish I was gay.”

However, you still heard his mumbled reply and responded, “Actually, I wish you were a girl and that I was gay.”

Beau stared at you and leaned back against the door for a better view of you, his brow raised and the corners of his lips drawn slightly upwards in amusement. “What are we even talking about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shake of your head.

The two of you then burst into loud laughter that filled the entire SUV. For a moment, all your sorrows and hardships seemed to be forgotten, carried away to the desert with the nightly breeze. Then, the familiar and comfortable quiet took over the car again.

“I’m moving out of the house, too,” Beau said, his eyes focusing on the barren landscape and desolate road ahead. “I’m giving it to Carla. I mean, she didn’t ask me to. God knows she can take care of herself… But I want Emily to keep living in the home she grew up in, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s really nice,” you said quietly. Your soft smile then morphed to a grin. “So you’re homeless, too, huh?”

Beau laughed, throwing his head back into the seat. “Yeah, guess I am. Maybe we should live together?” he suggested half-jokingly.

“Like roommates? Ugh, God no!” You scoffed in abhorrence. “We’re way too old for that. You’re over forty, I’m barely in my thirties–”

“You do know I know exactly how old you really are, right?” Beau teased.

You decided to ignore that jab and continued, unbothered. “It would be seriously so sad. The Widow And The Divorcee – sounds like the worst sitcom on the planet. ‘Sides, it’d be super awkward if one of us starts dating again.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Beau relented with a soft chuckle and then glanced at you sideways. His heart gained speed in his chest. “You ever think about it? Dating? Gettin’ out there again? Been nine months.”

You twitched your shoulders, choosing not to look at him. “I don’t know. Is nine months long enough after your husband died?”

Thoughtfully, Beau licked his lips and let out a small sigh. “I don’t think there’s a timeline, or a right and wrong. I just think it’s one of those things that when you’re ready, you’re ready.” “Well, consider me not ready then, I guess,” you replied honestly.

“Alright,” Beau accepted, bobbing his head. “But I still think you should try again at some point, you know? You shouldn’t be alone for the rest of your life. First of all, it’d be a total waste, ‘cause, I mean, look at you. And secondly, you’re barely in your thirties, after all,” he repeated your earlier joke with a soft grin.

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks in the moonlight. As you looked at him, you could see his smirk, making you laugh. “Noted,” you replied and were thankful for his pep talk. “I mean, there’ve been offers.”

Beau quirked one eyebrow, a hard lump forming in his throat as his chest tightened. “Offers? Like plural? Who?”

“Well, just some of the guys from our team. Cody, Jordan, Ted…” you named a few. “Also a few locals. Remember those guys we played pool with a few weeks ago? Two of ‘em asked for my number.”

“Huh. That is plural…” Beau pursed his lips and couldn’t keep his brow from wrinkling, his grip on the steering wheel stiffening. “Well, you know, when you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Shouldn’t force anything. No rush, darlin’.”

Smooth, Beau thought wryly with an internal sigh.

“Right, I know,” you agreed. “I do miss sex, though. Getting kinda bored of my vibrator.”

Beau choked on his spit. “Jesus…”

“What? Am I not allowed to talk about it? I thought we were friends. You’re supposed to care about my well-being and happiness,” you argued, frowning.

“I do care. Just… Can we please not talk about that?” he begged and exhaled a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his freckled nose.

“Fine. I miss having women around…” You shrugged and muttered, “Didn’t peg you for a prude.”

“Okay, let’s just get one thing straight – I’m not a prude,” he clarified in defense, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

“Alright, also noted,” you quipped, smirking to yourself. Sometimes you enjoyed making him a little uncomfortable. His blushed cheeks could be quite cute. “What about you? Have you still not talked to Carla? I’m sure you can win her back if you tried. You’re a lot better now.”

“Well, thank you for the, uh, vote of confidence, but it’s really over, I guess. We just talked about all the divorce proceedings last time. I actually think she started datin’ someone recently,” Beau told you.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Who?”

“I guess some rich tech guy. I don’t know…”

“And you’re good with that?” you questioned in disbelief.

Beau scoffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Ha, no… But what am I gonna do? Kinda shot myself in the leg with that one. I don’t blame her for moving on. It’s been over for months now.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. I was kinda rooting for you two,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but we weren’t you and Randy,” Beau said. It made your brow knit.

“What d’you mean?”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Beau replied as if it were obvious, but you still shook your head. He sighed. “You and Randy would’ve never gotten divorced.”

“You don’t know that.” Honestly, you doubted it yourself, but you were too curious to find out what he meant by his statement.

“I do know that,” Beau insisted with certainty. “You guys had that once-in-a-lifetime kinda love. The kind that made other people jealous, you know? Your love made every other relationship pale in comparison. I always figured once the honeymoon phase was over, you’d settle and be less vomit-inducing, but that never happened. Me and Carla were never like that. Not even in the beginning,” he explained, a small, soft smile shaping his mouth. “You guys were special. True love. The stuff folk singers write cheesy songs about.”

“I guess we were,” you mused quietly, the memory of everything Randy was to you causing tears to well in your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Beau apologized as soon as he noticed the sadness on your face. He reached his hand over to your side and squeezed your thigh gently, just above the knee.

“No, it’s alright,” you brushed him off, swallowing your heartache down. “But hey, if Carla wasn’t your once-in-a-lifetime, maybe she’s still out there. You just haven’t found her yet. I mean, that’s kinda a nice outlook, right?”

Licking his lips, he bobbed his head, his gaze focused on his hand on the steering wheel. “I doubt it.”

“Why? Never say never,” you said encouragingly.

“Well, maybe I already met her, and it’s too late now,” he replied. It sounded more like an actual fact than a hypothetical theory. You found yourself wondering.

“What, did you have like an old college flame? The one that got away?” you teased lightheartedly, but he only grew more serious.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied vaguely, rubbing his mouth with his fingers.

“Look her up on Facebook. Maybe she’s divorced, too. You could reconnect or something,” you suggested. He nodded but didn’t seem too convinced. You then shot him a hesitant glance from your periphery. “So, now that Carla’s moving on, are you gonna start dating now, too? Jump back into the game?”

“I guess so… Why?” A part of him was curious to hear your response, while another part reminded him that his desired answer was only wishful thinking – and completely insane on top of that.

“That fiery brunette lady at the bar last night seemed really interested in you. Maybe you should hook up with her if she’s there again tomorrow night?” you proposed in earnest.

Wide-eyed, Beau blinked at you in incredulity – like you had lost your goddamn mind. “I’m sorry, what?! Hook up? Who are you right now? Are you tryin’ to set me up?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged simply, not seeing what the big problem was. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to convince you to get a tramp stamp above your ass with a dirty needle. I’m just trying to be a good wingman… woman. Randy would’ve tried to set you up, right?”

Beau sighed frustratedly. “Yeah, he would’ve,” he admitted in a grumble and then barked, slightly more furious, “But you ain’t him. And I don’t want you to be, so stop it, alright?”

“Geez, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” you mumbled defensively and raised your hands in surrender, unsuccessfully hiding your upset over his reaction. He felt guilty when he saw the small pout on your face.

Beau rubbed his forehead before dragging his palm over the rest of his face. “I know. I’m sorry, too,” he said and let out a deep breath through his nose. “I just-… I guess I’m just waiting, okay?”

“Waiting for what?”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. For you to be ready, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t very well do that now, could he?

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N…” he breathed exhaustively. That was all he managed to say. With his palm on his mouth, he rested his elbow against the car door, gazing out the window.

“Why are you so upset?” you asked, your brow woven with confusion.

“Switch subjects,” he requested.

It was a phrase the two of you used whenever you didn’t want to talk about something anymore. When someone pushed too much, or the topic got too emotional and you needed a break. The only rule was to always respect the request, so you had no choice but to let it go after that.

“The Texans game sucked last night, huh?”

That elicited a snort from him, and he looked at you with a warm smile. “Yeah, goddamn awful.”

“How many times are you gonna watch those?”

Beau’s question broke your concentration. Your gaze snapped from your laptop screen to his concerned face. You’d been rewatching the victims’ videos for four days straight now, trying to find more clues. Maybe even something that directly led to Diane.

“I keep thinking maybe I’ve missed something,” you mumbled and stared back into the computer, your teeth gnawing on the pen between your lips. “It’s 48 hours each. We have twenty-four victims. I keep watching them sped-up to get through them all, but maybe I should slow ‘em down. I mean, I’ve watched them full-length, normal speed a couple of times before, but maybe I should watch ‘em even slower and really focus, you know? There’s gotta be something there…”

Bobbing his head worriedly, Beau pursed his lips and took a scan of your desk. He counted eight empty cups of coffee and five cans of energy drinks. There were bags under your red eyes and your hands were jittering. He knew you hadn’t slept a lot. He tried to hold you in his arms, but as soon as he dozed off, you snuck out and went back to work.

Beau shut the laptop. “You’re cut off.”

“Hey!”

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“I need that woman in prison, Beau.”

“You startin’ to sound like Jenny…” Beau quipped under his breath.

“We’re running out of time. There’s only one day left before the next victim drops,” you stated and tried your best to keep your voice steady as it broke off towards the end.

“I know.” Beau clasped your shoulder and squeezed gently. “And we’ll get her. I promise you. But you’re no good to any of us if you’re exhausted and losing it right now.” You nodded and rose from your chair. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “How about some dinner, huh?”

You grinned warmly. “What, like a second date?”

“Exactly like a second date,” Beau said and mirrored your grin. He was making up for lost time as best as he could, even if it meant taking you out every night for the rest of your life.

Your phone buzzed on the table, your brow quirking at the number. Eagerly, you picked up and wound yourself out of Beau’s embrace. “Special Agent Y/L/N… Uh-huh… Great, thank you.”

Beau pursed his lips. “We’re not going out, are we?”

“‘fraid not, Sheriff.” You shook your head and chuckled at his groan. “That was IT. They’re finally done and sending over the IP addresses.”

“Alright, guess I’m gettin’ take out,” Beau announced with a small sigh, knowing the two of you were in for a long night – and not the one he had planned.

You smiled and pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

August 2020

Beau’s heart thudded frantically in his chest as his knuckles tapped your front door in the early evening. The sky was a color spectacle full of azures, indigos, and apricots as the summer sun slowly set. His boots only stood on that same spot not even twenty-four hours ago. It still felt like a surreal nightmare he couldn’t escape, his hope to wake up soon a ceaseless prayer.

He’d stayed with you all night, held you as you cried yourself to sleep. Beau awoke on your couch with your head resting on his thigh and a strange feeling in his gut. He couldn’t help but think you were beautiful, even in a state of utter turmoil, shoving said thought swiftly down into the depths of his darkening soul.

But he’d spent all day thinking of you, plagued by guilt and torn by misplaced feelings. He’d sat through hours of interviews, going over and over the events of last night till his mind spun like a hamster wheel. He was forced to fill out forms, sign documents, and recount each unforgettable step. He’d listened to lectures, sermons, and admonitions. His captain gave him a tongue-lashing that sounded like mere white noise before he was sent home with a suspension – investigation pending.

Only he didn’t go home; he came here.

At home, his wife and daughter were waiting – for a husband, a father, an explanation. None of which he could provide. Beau wanted to wallow in his grief, his guilt, his loss in peace. He lacked the strength to be strong, play pretend, and act above it all. He wanted to be punished, sent to perdition, and held accountable for his lapse of judgment. A suspension wasn’t good enough. It barely patched the abysmal gaps in his heart.

The only suitable punishment was you. Witnessing your suffering was his personally crafted hell. You were the broken remnants of his destruction, the shattered pieces of his idiocy, the explosive fallout of his arrogance.

And you hadn’t answered a single call or text of his. His torturous worry was part of his penalty.

Consecutive rings of the doorbell and incessant knocks remained unanswered. For a moment, Beau rested his forehead on the door. He felt helpless and clueless all the same. You had friends and family to take care of you, probably better suited and closer to you than him, but somehow he felt burdened with the responsibility.

He took the spare key out of the left-side planter and barged inside. The ground floor was deserted. Last night’s uneaten dinner still sat untouched on the table. It felt like a whiplash against his bare back.

Bolting upstairs, he found the door to the main bedroom ajar. He pried it open slowly, the sight of you delivering his second lashing. This time, he felt the sting burning through to his heart.

He found you curled up in bed, on your husband’s side, in your husband’s t-shirt, with your wedding photo album clutched tightly in your arms. His breath halted for a moment; his heart did, too.

Did he do this? Was this all his fault?

“Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet and careful as he spoke. Slowly, he walked over to your side and knelt down in front of you. “Darlin’, hey… You need to get up. Eat somethin’.”

Beau was sure you hadn’t moved all day. He didn’t ask you if you were alright or how you were doing. The question seemed insulting. The answer was obvious. Your phone was lighting up on the nightstand with a million unanswered calls and messages, his own among them. Your beautiful eyes were vacant, red, and empty. You didn’t cry, however, not anymore. You were dehydrated and all out of tears at this point. You never looked at him, not even a glance.

“I want him back,” you whispered, your voice coarse from screaming, crying, cursing.

Beau nodded, licking his lips. Caringly, he caressed your head, brushing a few strands of messy hair out of your face. “I know. I hope you know I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.”

For the first time your eyes found his. Your gaze was scathing and piercing. “Tell me what happened.”

Beau let out a harrowing sigh. He had rehashed the story all day long. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again, but maybe this version was the most important one. Who deserved the truth more than you?

“Y/N, I don’t think this is such a good idea, darlin’,” Beau tried to reason, mostly for himself. He wanted to hold on a little longer, the idea of you hating him tearing him apart. He wanted to spare himself the additional guilt, the anger, the hurt.

“Tell me or leave.”

Beau closed his eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Okay, alright.” He took a deep breath and settled down on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden bedside table. “We were closing in on that biker gang. Few murders, arms trafficking, drug deals… You know the drill. I’m sure Ra-… he filled you in.”

Not that long ago, Randy had asked you for advise on the case. You gave him your contacts in the DEA and a number to a CI.

“Your DEA guy warned us. Said the gang was working closely with the cartel down in Juárez. But I had my own intel that only a few members were meeting at the Hatcher warehouse in MacGregor. It was supposed to be a small deal. But I figured it could lead to bigger things if we shook ‘em down, you know? But fuckin’ Harper told us no like usual. Refused to give us back-up. Said to pass the case on to the DEA. But Randy and I worked our asses off the last few months to get even this far. We were so close. I didn’t wanna let go… So, I suggested we go in anyways. It was supposed to be only three guys from the gang. I knew if we were smart about it, we could easily take ‘em down, you know?”

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on the bed. Shaking your head, you chuckled humorlessly and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle from the nightstand. “‘Course you did. It’s not the first time you broke a rule or shit on authority.”

“Yeah, and I was right every single time,” Beau bit. His anger wasn’t geared at you but at himself. He knew he was in the wrong. He flew too close to the sun and got burned. But he still felt the need to defend himself, even if it was unjustified.

His gaze drifted to the dresser and the patch of wall above it, decorated with photographic evidence of yours and his partner’s life together. The wedding, dates, vacations, holidays – it was all there. Beau had watched it all, start to finish. He wished he could rewind the tape and cut off the ending, all so you could have the love of your life back. He didn’t know yet your cassette had a B-side. One that featured him.

“You got fucking lucky, is all,” you scoffed.

“Randy backed me up on it!”

“Of course he did! You’re his fucking partner! He would’ve followed you anywhere if you asked him to,” you snapped, shaking your head. You gulped down some whiskey then and locked your jaw before you met his eyes again with a glare. “And? What happened then, Beau? Was it only three guys?”

“No.” The word was almost inaudible. He shook his head with a harsh swallow. “They were meetin’ with a few cartel members there. My intel never said anything about that. When we were inside and saw what was really going on, it was already too late to get out. They made us, bullets started flyin’… They got a hold of Randy and… shot him.” A tear escaped down his cheek, his throat closing as he tried to choke out the last bit of the story. “I had to leave him there. I barely got out myself. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know this is on me.”

Your lips twitched with a bitter smile. You didn’t look at him, just rubbed your tired eyes. “Damn right it is. Get out.”

“Y/N, please–”

The storm in your eyes made him stop as you met his gaze, his useless apologies becoming stuck in his throat. “I said, get out. I ain’t asking a third time. You’re the reason my husband is dead. You’re the reason I don’t even have a body to bury. So, get the fuck out.” Like a snakebite, your words were targeted, sharp, and venomous.

You finally got out of bed and prodded towards the en-suite bathroom. The truth had been what you needed to switch the fighter inside of you back on. You knew what you wanted to do then and were determined to get it.

“Y/N–”

“Do you know what cartels do to bodies, Beau? To rivals? To law enforcement? ‘Cause I just came back from a job where we found forty-eight decapitated bodies, left to rot inside the walls of a house. Still haven’t found the heads yet. Probably never will,” you told him and stared him dead into his dark green eyes. “Ever seen that before, desperado?”

Beau bit his lips, averting his gaze. “No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now, leave. Please. Get the fuck outta my house. I don’t wanna see you anymore,” you spat and slammed the bathroom door shut behind you.

Beau then grabbed the whiskey bottle you’d left and walked out of your home. It was the first of many nights he started to drink himself to sleep, but at least it kept the nightmares temporarily at bay.

“Theodore.” Beau forced a bright smile onto his freckle-dusted face, although the stiff features could barely fool anyone. At least, they wouldn’t have fooled you.

“Beau, good to see you again.” Ted smiled and did a more convincing job of it as he waltzed into Lewis and Clark County’s Sheriff’s Department. It almost seemed like he meant it. “I was surprised when Y/N told me you got a gig as a sheriff here.”

Translation: I was surprised because you were such a fuck-up back in Texas.

Beau feigned a chuckle. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

“Hopefully, you’re givin’ the DAs here less headaches,” Ted jabbed under the disguise of friendly banter. He then turned to Jenny with that same shit-eating grin. “Your sheriff is a little troublemaker.”

Sweet Lord, Beau wanted to whack the bastard.

The blonde deputy coolly brushed the accusation off. She shrugged and playfully nudged Beau’s arm, sending the Texan attorney a smile. “I prefer him that way.”

“Hey, there she is!” Beau smiled with frazzled relief when you finally hurried into the station. A little while longer, and he definitely would’ve thrown a punch.

“Hey, Ted. Thanks for coming. How was your flight?” You greeted him with a warm smile and a quick hug.

“Good, good. Never been to Montana before,” Ted said and then let his eyes wander up and down your body. “Look at you. You look great!”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You subtly cleared your throat. You could physically feel Beau stiffen next to you. In your periphery, you could spy a tightly clenched jaw and a few strained muscles in his neck.

“Mind if Y/N and I borrow your office, Sheriff Arlen?” Ted asked and emphasized his title. “Considering the nature of this case, I’d like to keep it as private as possible. Don’t want anything to reach Ms. Newton’s ears.”

Your hunch had been right. Several IP addresses pointed to Diane, some to public Wi-Fi’s. You and the team still needed to connect her to the other states and find out where she’d been staying there, but you could definitely trace some posts in recent weeks to her home in Montana. It was enough for an arrest warrant, but you still needed more evidence.

Additionally, it had all come together a little too easily. It seemed like a giant trap you were walking into. Diane wanted to be caught. But why?

“Why don’t I just join you? I’m sure Y/N here doesn’t mind,” Beau suggested with a tight smile and then snaked his arm around your middle, pulling you closer. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Internally, you sighed a little at his obvious territorial pissing, but you were willing to throw him a bone. You stretched up and claimed his plump lips in a fervent kiss that Beau only all too happily reciprocated.

“Not at all, Sheriff. You know I always appreciate your input,” you replied with a dirty smirk at the double entendre.

As Beau looked down at you, he mouthed ‘God, I love you.’ You grinned in response.

“Happy to give it to you,” he said with another sweet peck of your lips. A triumphant and slightly cocky grin graced his lips as he looked back at Ted.

“Oh, so you two are back together?” Ted realized, his brow rising to his hairline. He’d never seen you two together but certainly had heard the whispers down in Mexico from your old task force. He’d been the DA for those cases as well. You’d never explicitly told him about you and Beau, though, even when he had tried to pry a little on those dates you went on.

“Well, I’m a hard one to quit,” Beau quipped almost proudly, like a peacock showing off his fan of feathers.

“As are cigarettes and many other vices,” Ted shot back with the same stupidly proud grin.

Translation: You’re an ass. And a failure. She deserves so much better. I’m ‘better.’ But maybe that didn't need a translation.

Beau should’ve known it was hard to out-argue a lawyer and ground his jaw. After all, he’d been married to one for many years.

You, on the other hand, shared a wide-eyed and baffled look with Jenny that bordered on amusement. You had almost gasped in shock. You hadn’t expected such a fiery reply, sure the men would stick to their Southern manners. But, oh well, everyone’s packing in fucking Texas…

“Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll join you in a minute,” you ordered more than you earnestly proposed and shooed the two men down the hallway towards Beau’s office.

“Sure it’s such a good idea to lock those two in a room alone?” Jenny teased, her eyes lingering a little too long on Ted’s perfectly formed ass as he sauntered down the hall.

You couldn’t blame her. You had checked out Beau’s in the same breath.

“It’s only for a short time. They’re not gonna kill each other,” you laughed it off. Jenny arched a doubtful eyebrow at you. “That quickly,” you added a correction. “So, what did I miss here?” you asked and nodded towards the two men, closing the door to Beau’s office behind them. All you heard last was them talking about the recent Texans game.

Ugh, of course, they’d end up by football…

“Dick measuring contest,” Jenny supplied wryly.

“Ah, figured…”

“Well, better them than to lock Agent Y/L/N and the sheriff into the same room,” Poppernak joked with a soft chuckle as he appeared next to you and Jenny, chiming into the conversation.

You gaped at him in mock-shock. “Mo! I can’t believe you just said that,” you chided playfully.

His cheeks turned crimson red. “I’m sorry, Special Agent Y/L/N,” he apologized in a fluster.

“Mo, I told you to call me by my first name,” you reminded him with a smile. “Or I’m gonna have to start giving you silly names like Beau does.”

“Oh, I love Sheriff Arlen’s nicknames,” he quickly defended with a nervous laugh.

“Do you?” Jenny tilted her head with a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugged. “They’re clever.”

August 2020

“Old Fashioned,” you ordered with a look at the bartender, feeling Beau’s confused eyes and crinkled brow wander up to you. “Couldn’t have picked a nicer bar, huh? This place is a dump. You know that, right?”

Beau clicked his tongue and took a sip from his Ranch Water. “What are you doing here? Thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You let out a small sigh but didn’t meet his gaze. “Carla called me. Your family is worried about you.”

“I didn’t tell her where I was. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. Carla said you haven’t been home in three days. Figured you’d gone on a bender. This is the fifth cop bar I checked out. Finally got lucky,” you said and thanked the bartender as he placed his drink in front of you. You settled down on a barstool next to Beau.

“Quite the effort. Sure I’m worth it?”

Your tongue swept over your lips. “Beau, look at me.” His forest-green eyes found yours upon your soft plea. “I’m sorry I put all that shit on you. It wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, okay? His death isn’t on you. I know you loved him like a brother.”

“I did.” Beau took another sip of his drink. “But it is my fault. I was reckless and arrogant. We both know it.”

“It was a set-up, alright? I talked to my DEA contact. Cody said your intel was wrong. They knew you and Randy were closing in on them. They wanted to get rid of you,” you explained.

Beau smacked his lips. “I still shoulda known better. I should’ve seen it was a trap.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. You couldn’t say you would’ve done the same thing, but you knew Beau would’ve never purposely put Randy in danger if he had even the faintest idea. “But it could’ve happened to anybody. This was bigger than you knew.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you,” he stated quietly. You couldn’t argue with that. You were more by-the-book than he was. You would’ve never gone against a superior’s order. You would’ve respected it.

“Look, just go home. Talk to your wife. Get some help,” you said. “You missed your suspension hearing, but I spoke on your behalf. Told them it wasn’t your fault. The DEA backed me. Harper’s gonna reinstate you. Just come back as soon as you’re ready.”

Beau nodded slowly. Even if he didn’t say it, you could tell he was thankful for your efforts. “I can’t go home.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why? I’m sure Carla will understand. You need to talk to someone about this. Go to therapy – and not the alcoholic kind. Losing a partner is not something you get over quickly. You need people in your corner, including your wife.”

“You mean the wife that lets criminals out on the street?” Beau’s gaze was focused on the glass in his hands. The wrinkles on your brow deepened. “The guy that shot him… Carla’s his defense attorney. Was, at least. He was supposed to do time, but two months ago, she got him paroled.” With a dark chuckle, he emptied his glass.

“Beau…” You knew he had always struggled with Carla’s job, making you sometimes wonder about their dinner conversations at home. “It ain’t her fault more than it is yours. She’s just doing her job. You know that. You’ve been together for so long, you’d think you’re used to it by now.”

Beau scoffed a chuckle and gestured to the bartender for a refill. “I was a young cop back then. Wasn’t on the job as long. I didn’t know it would bother me so much. Still lived in that hopeful bubble, I guess.”

You smiled knowingly. “You mean the ‘I didn’t think I’d see as much shit and injustice as I do now’ bubble?”

He snickered softly. “Yep, that one. Just didn’t think it’d be this hard, you know?”

“I get it. I mean, me and Carla butt heads all the time over this stuff. But we do it in a competitive fun way and then get drunk,” you said with a light chuckle. “Guess it’s different when you’re married, though, huh?”

“Yeah, it is…” he sighed.

“Still, go home. Talk to her,” you encouraged but could see your words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. “By the way, the funeral’s on Saturday.”

He turned his gaze away from his glass and found your eyes. “You need any help with that?”

“Maybe you can give a eulogy. You knew him best. I think he would’ve really liked that,” you said with a warm smile. No matter your own feelings, you knew deep down Randy would’ve wanted you to forgive his partner.

“Yeah, I can do that. Anything you need, okay?” Beau clasped your hand that laid on the bar counter and squeezed reassuringly before dropping it again.

You smiled appreciatively and teased, “Maybe show up sober. Or at least close-to.”

Beau chuckled a little. “I promise.”

You stood up from your seat then and put some cash for your drink on the counter. “Alright, I’m heading home. You need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna finish this drink, then I’ll head out, too,” he said.

“You sure? Don’t make me come back here,” you threatened playfully.

Beau laughed softly. “I won’t. Thanks for everything, Y/N. I mean it.”

You sent him a smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze on your way out. “You’re welcome. Get home safe, okay?”

However, Beau couldn’t keep any of his promises. He made it home after three more drinks and woke up on the front lawn of his house. Carla wasn’t happy when she found him in the morning as she brought Emily to school. But Beau couldn’t stop. Every time he closed his eyes, the tragic events flashed before him like a horror movie, witnessing Randy’s death in a never-ending loop. He kept seeing his partner get dragged away, heard the shot over and over again like a rain of bullets without a ceasefire.

The guilt was eating him alive. The guilt of getting his partner into this mess in the first place. Of leaving him behind. Of surviving and coming out alive when he didn’t deserve to.

So, Beau kept drinking to forget, even though he knew it was a futile endeavor. The memory would never fade, but at least it was blurred.

Your heavy breaths echoed through the small trailer. His mouth moved down the column of your throat, leaving a wet path of ravenous love bites in its wake.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned wantonly, his grip on your flesh punishing as he kept you pressed flush against him while he devoured you on the little dining table. Your ass sat on the wooden surface, your crossed ankles locked tightly behind his muscular back.

“God, you made me so happy today,” he growled against the shell of your ear, his rising length rubbing against your core through layers of denim.

“I can see that.” You giggled, your hands dangling in his hair. “There’s no need to hate him so much, you know?”

“Says you,” Beau quipped and unzipped your jeans, eagerly pulling them off you as his mouth sucked your clavicle purple and blue. “That slimy coyote always had it out for me.”

Beau removed your panties as well, tossing them behind his shoulder where they landed in the kitchen sink. “Whoops.” He grinned charmingly but was unstoppable, freeing his throbbing dick as he shoved his jeans and boxers barely over his ass. He didn’t bother to slip out of them all the way, too impatient to wait any longer to enter you.

“Still, I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours,” you said and braced yourself on his broad shoulders as one large hand on your back pulled you closer to the edge of the table. His other hand grabbed his cock, twisting his fist along the hard, long shaft a few times before he glided his cockhead through your slick folds.

“Not always.” With one harsh thrust, he pushed inside you, your tight walls fighting to make room for him and adjust to his stretch.

You gasped at the pleasurable burn that coursed through your body and ignited every sizzling nerve. He dropped his head to your shoulder, giving both of you some time to get used to each other. You could tell you were in for a wilder ride tonight. You always loved when he fucked you rough and hard. There was something raw and animalistic about the need in his hypnotizing green eyes.

Beau then claimed your lips with one fervent kiss, enough of a spark to cause a wildfire. He met your gaze, hands gingerly cupping your cheeks. “But I love that you’re mine now. And I’m sure as hell gonna make you mine tonight, darlin’.”

You crashed your lips against his, your kisses frenzied and untamed as his hips began to slam into you. His pounds into your pussy were relentless as you swallowed every inch of him. You gripped him tight, already feeling your first orgasm bloom. It accumulated like dark, violent storm clouds on the horizon, forecasting roaring thunder and heavy rainfall.

“Oh God! Fuck, baby!” You screamed as your climax tore through you like a hurricane, your cunt gushing on his cock and pulsing around him. Your nails dug into his shoulder blades and scratched down his back as you came undone.

Beau groaned into your ear, squeezing his eyes shut as he barely held on himself. But he didn’t let up and kept up his furious pace, not ready to stop yet. “Shit, keep doing that. You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” he grunted against your skin, your sensitive flesh barely withstanding his ruthless pumps. “Want you to come again, darlin’.”

With his declaration, his hand slipped between your sweat-clad bodies. You came close to losing your mind as he thumbed furiously at your clit, the stars already starting to twinkle in front of your eyes. You could feel yourself get shoved to the edge once more, staring down the steep cliffs of white-hot ecstasy.

Your mind was consumed by need, his grip on your hips bruising as you exploded. You cried out raucously, your whole body quaking in his hold upon your eruption, the aftershocks so powerful they could cause cracks in your bones.

Beau spilled his seed deep inside of you, his body stuttering in rhythm with yours as your earthquake took him down with you. Hazy gazes met each other with lazy smiles as ragged breaths mingled.

“Fuck, that was good. I think that one might make it into our Top Ten.” Beau chuckled gravelly and placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hmm, not sure. We have a few greatest hits.” You giggled and bit down on your lower lip with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

Beau cupped your cheeks, thumbs caressing the heated and rosy skin as he lifted your gaze. “Anything.”

“Just between us, you’re the best lover I ever had,” you confessed with a wide grin. The corners of his mouth rose to match yours.

“Well, between us, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re it, darlin’. You know that, right? You’re the love of my life,” Beau revealed, making you smile brighter than you ever had before.

“I’m not sure about the sex, but this moment, right here, is probably gonna make it into the Top Ten,” you said softly as a few tears stung your eyes.

“Good.” Beau smiled and pecked your forehead.

The buzzing of a phone shifted your attention. You recognized it as yours, and Beau was quick to retrieve it from your jeans pocket in the pile of clothes on the floor.

“It’s Jenny,” you told him before picking up. “Hello… What?! Uh-huh, we’ll be right there.”

Beau’s brow furrowed as he watched your features flicker through an array of emotions. “Bad news?”

“Uhm, honestly, I don’t know,” you said and swallowed some of your confusion down, gathering your thoughts. “Jenny said Diane just walked into the station and gave herself up. She is ready to confess but only wants to talk to us.”

“Us? As in us two?” Beau’s eyes narrowed. You nodded. “Well, that doesn’t sound fishy at all,�� he commented wryly.

“Yup, I don’t like it.”

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds

A lot of revelations and foreboding in this one... 👀 Also, I just love having Beau say the word "coyotes" for some reason 😂

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[otmaaromanovas]

Anastasia's personality

Lesser known quotes about Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov and her personality, from those who knew her and from Anastasia herself!

Happy reading :)

"Once they had seen this demonstration [of security dogs sniffing out objects], the Grand Duchesses often amused themselves by hiding objects on the island, and asking us to have them retrieved by the dogs. That was, above all, the favourite game of the youngest of the Grand Duchesses, Anastasia Nicholaievna. So the guide asked permission to take the Grand Duchess by the hand and let the dogs sniff it, who then disappeared into the island and brought back the hidden object. Of course, the Grand Duchess was hugely delighted." - Alexander Spiridovitch, Last Years at Tsarskoe Selo, Volume 1

Anastasia to tutor Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov: "Wikied P.V.P. I am very, very upsit with you. Why didn’t you write a litter to Maria and me? I’m telling you, you are very, very bad, extremely bad even. Maria and I have written you so meny letters and you haven’t replied. I am going to make mystakes on purpose. I alredy see where I made mystakes. Anastasia. 1909. 9 November." - Helen Azar, George Hawkins, Anastasia Romanov: The Tsar's Youngest Daughter Speaks Through Her Writings

"Sometimes, the Grand Duchesses would enter the thatched houses and strike up conversations with the peasant women. The male population worked far away, at fishing, Anastasia Nicholaievna made friends with an old peasant woman, whom she came to see in her thatched cottage several times, and with whom she had long conversations. The peasant was knitting a stocking, and showed the Grand Duchess how it was done. On her birthday, Anastasia Nicholaievna visited the old lady, and asked her how old she thought she was. When the old lady could not guess, the Grand Duchess announced proudly that she was eight years old!" - Alexander Spiridovitch, Last Years at Tsarskoe Selo, Volume 1

"We used to make long outings around the islands. One day, Anastasia Nicholaievna begged the Emperor to take her on one of these outings. The Emperor consented. It was a very long outing. We covered some fifteen to seventeen versts. Everybody, except the Emperor, was very tired, with Anastasia Nicholaievna at the point of tears. The people who accompanied the Emperor took turns carrying her pick-a-back [piggy back]. That outing was remembered for a long time." - Alexander Spiridovitch, Last Years at Tsarskoe Selo, Volume 1

"Anastasia Nicholaevna was a lively witty child, who developed rapidly in the midst of her sisters. Very mischievous, always gay she still amused herself with toys such as the little, stoppered bottles and pots which a doctor who visited the Imperial Family used to bring her. She and her brother got no end of fun from these things." - Alexander Spiridovitch, Last Years at Tsarskoe Selo, Volume 1

"Little Anastasie was delighted with the stir and bustle of city life and deeply interested in all she saw. The children developed a love for those little toy balloons which are sold in the streets. When they were very good I used to send out and get them one each. But Anastasie used sometimes to want me to stop the carriage and buy them from the men, and this, of course, could not be allowed. So I always said simply that I could not, without advancing any reason. She evidently thought force would have to be used to induce him to part with them, for one day she saw some little children walking on the Palace Quay, each one with a balloon. She drew my attention to them. "Look, look!" cried she; "little children with balloons; get out, take them from them and give them to me." I explained why that would not do, so she said, " Well, get out, and ask them nicely and politely, and perhaps they will give them to me."" - Margaretta Eagar, Six Years at the Russian Court

"Someone in speaking to me of the four little girls lately said to me, "...little Anastasie has personal charm beyond any child I ever saw."" - Margaretta Eagar, Six Years at the Russian Court

"I had got from England a preparation for the children's hair, and was rubbing it into little Anastasie's head one evening. She objected, and I said, " It will make your hair grow nicely, darling," so she submitted. Next evening I went to get the kappuka [solution] from the cupboard, and mademoiselle ran off into the next room. She returned dragging by its leg an awful dolly, a regular fetish, minus a wig, one eye, and an arm. She gravely took a little piece of sponge and began to rub the kappuka into the creature's head. I remonstrated, telling her I had to send to England for the stuff and did not want it wasted. She looked at me most reproachfully, and said, "My poor Vera! she has got no curls; this will make her hair grow." Of course, she got her way." - Margaretta Eagar, Six Years at the Russian Court

"Anastasia Nikolaevna was especially attracted to stores, where they sold doll shoes of various sizes…" - Sophia Ivanovna Tyutcheva, A Few Years Before the Catastrophe

Letter from Alexei to their father, Nicholas: "[22 Sept 1914] …Anastasia was throttling [tutor] M. Gilliard." This has also been translated as "…Anastasia was trying to strangle M. Gilliard" - George Hawkins, Alexei: Russia's Last Tsesarevich - Letters, diaries and writings

Letter from Alexandra to Nicholas: "Jan 6 1916 …Anastasia has bronchitis, head is heavy & hurts her swallowing, coughed in the night,, she writes about [Dr.] Ostrog.[orsky]. “Although he said that I look a little better than yesterday, but I am pale & my appearance is foolish in my view” just like the “Shvibzik” [her nickname] to say such things…" – Joseph T. Fuhrmann, Nicholas II and Alexandra Feodorovna. The complete Wartime Correspondence April 1914 – March 1917

Letter from Alexandra to either her brother or sister-in-law: "7 May 1913… Anastasia is growing gradually and is as funny as always." - Petra H. Kleinpenning, The Correspondence Of The Empress Alexandra Of Russia With Ernst Ludwig And Eleonore, Grand Duke And Duchess Of Hesse

The following are from Helen Azar, George Hawkins, Anastasia Romanov: The Tsar's Youngest Daughter Speaks Through Her Writings:

Tutor Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov to Anastasia: "12 October 1909. Hello dear, good, diligent, obedient (albeit not always), kind and affectionate (also not always?) Anastasia Nikolaevna!" - Helen Azar, George Hawkins, Anastasia Romanov: The Tsar's Youngest Daughter Speaks Through Her Writings

Anatoly Mordvinov to the Grand Duchesses: "September 19, 1915 My beloved torturers! I can’t express how pleased I was with your joint, dear, sweet letter… What terrible news, reported by my chief tormentor Anastasia Nikolaevna…"

Anastasia to Nicholas: "October 3rd [1915] …There was a psalm-reader who read so incredibly funny that it was simply impossible not to laugh"

Note from Anastasia to Alexei "…Now you, little piggy, know all the rooms…"

Letter from Anastasia to Alexei: "1 November 1915. ...My Dear and Darling Little Alexei! I haven’t forgotten my responsibility [to walk dog Joy], and every day either I or Madeleine or Tutles goes for a walk and it goes very well."

Last diary of Alexandra: "12/15 April. Marie comes with us [to Ekaterinburg], Olga will look after Baby, Tatiana the household & Anastasia will cheer all up." - Last diary of Alexandra Feodorovna

"Anastasia was not allowed to go to dinner, had to go to bed early, which was why she had dinner alone with the nanny in her giant lonely “upstairs”… So sad, these poor children live in a golden cage." - the memoirs of V. I. Chebotareva

Diary entry of the palace priest: "April 11, 1917 - …The former Heir was taken past my window in a wheelchair. Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna saw me in the window and loudly said to her mother, “Over there, the batiushka [father] is looking at us”" - Belyaev, Potapov, The Romanovs Under House Arrest: From the 1917 Diary of a Palace Priest

Letter from Maria to Nicholas: "April 1915 …The little Shvybzik [Anastasia's dog] just made a “governor” [accident] on Mama’s carpet, and Anastasia is not training him…" - Helen Azar, George Hawkins, Maria Romanov: Third Daughter of the Last Tsar, Diaries and Letters, 1908–1918

"...the most energetic and speedy - Anastasia Nikolaevna - had a rather silent, sedate and serious Navigator A.V. Saltanov [to look after her]. The latter ended up with most trouble and turmoil. Dear 'Nastasya', as the Gosudar [tsar] called her, was a trouble making tomboy. With her hair always messed up, always dishevelled, from morning till night she ran around the yacht, climbed up ladders, peeked where she should not have, until, with a lot of screaming she was finally led away and put to bed. Her parents said she was the "clown"." - Memoirs of Nikolai Vasilievich Sablin

"It was after Anastasia had arrived as a pupil that Gibbes met his first real problem. Still slightly built (she would soon grow rapidly), eager in her movements, her eyes sparkling with intelligence, she was self-possessed and in entire command of her features; he had met nothing like it any other child. Remembering a course in child psychology he had taken during one of his exploring periods at Cambridge, he tried as many innovations from it as he could; they did not shelter him from storms, usually sudden. Once, after a disturbed lesson, he refused to give her five marks, the maximum (and customary) number. For a moment the wondered what might happen; then, purposefully, Anastasia left the room. Within minutes she returned, carrying one of the elaborate bouquets that seemed always to be in waiting. 'Mr Gibbes,' she said winningly, 'are you going to change the marks?' He hesitated before he shook his head. Describing it long afterwards in a letter (1928) to the Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich, the Tsar's brother-in-law in Paris, Gibbes wrote: Drawing herself up to the most of her small height, she marched into the schoolroom next door. Leaving the door wide open, she approached the dear old Russian professor, Peter Vassilievich Petrov. 'Peter Vassilievich', she said, 'allow me to present you with these flowers'. By all the rules he should have refused them, but professors are human; he did not. Later, we made it up again, and I received my bouquets once more, for the Grand Duchess nearly always gave me one during those early years. I-well, I was more careful in my marking. We had both learned a lesson. Another morning would not be forgotten. There had been a children's fancy-dress dance at Tsarskoe Selo on the previous night. Gibbes, in tail-coat and white tie, waited at his desk for Anastasia to arrive. When she did, quickly and mischievously, her face was blackened like a chimney-sweep's and she carried a small golden ladder which she placed beside her while she waited for the lesson to begin. Gibbes, deciding to take no notice, was about to speak when he heard a rush of laughter outside the big double doors at the end of the room. They flew open, and through them there appeared the three elder Grand Duchesses with their mother. The Empress looked in horror. 'Anastasia!' she cried, 'go and change at once!' And, meekly, the sweep vanished. When she came back, her face scrubbed as red as a lobster, the gold ladder was still beside her desk; but everybody pretended not to see it and the lesson continued in the Empress's presence." - Trewin and Gibbes, Tutor to the Tsarevich

"Through the years he preserved from Tobolsk two cheap exercise books, each labelled ‘English’. ‘M. Romanof’ had written her name on one label. The other book belonged to A. Romanova (Shut Up!) Tobolsk 1917-1918.’ Grand Duchess Anastasia, more exuberantly talkative than her sisters, seized on one of Gibbes’s exasperated moments. When he told her to shut up, she asked him how to spell it and adopted it as her nickname." - Trewin and Gibbes, Tutor to the Tsarevich

"‘At the end of the farce [Gibbes reported] the husband has to turn his back, open his dressing-gown as if to take it off- Anastasia wore an old one of mine - and then exclaim: 'But I've packed my trousers; I can't go.' The night's applause had excited the little Grand Duchess. The piece had gone with a swing and they were getting through the 'business' so fast that a draught got under the gown and whisked its tail up to the middle of her back, showing her sturdy legs and bottom encased in the Emperor's Jaeger underwear. We all gasped; Emperor and Empress, suite and servants, collapsed in uncontrolled laughter. Poor Anastasia could not make it out. All were calling for a second performance, but this time she was more careful. Certainly I shall always remember the night; it was the last heart unrestrained laughter the Empress ever enjoyed.’" - Trewin and Gibbes, Tutor to the Tsarevich

"...Anastasia was the most amusing; she was always full of mischief. - “Anastasia is our family clown!” the Emperor once exclaimed, laughing, to my mother." - Olga Voronova, Upheaval

"Fleeting memories come back to me of those cloudless summer days. Pictures of the Emperor and his daughters at the Garden Party at Tsarskoe, the little Grand Duchess Anastasia, her cheeks scarlet with excitement, surrounded by a group of midshipmen, plying them with eager questions. “You will take me up into your conning tower,” her clear childish voice rang out above the hum of conversation. “Couldn’t you let off one of the guns and just pretend it was a mistake?”" - Muriel Buchanan, Ambassador's Daughter

"The youngest girl, Anastasia, was spirited, sly and playful; she would get under the dinner table and pinch the legs of some elderly statesman until her father pulled her out by her hair. She has been described as ‘a little inextinguishable volcano, with a world of her own’." - Bernard Pares, The Fall Of The Russian Monarchy A Study Of The Evidence

"The Tsar's youngest daughter was much the sprightliest and most entertaining. She had a comic gift as a mimic, picking out people's foibles in a way that made everyone laugh. "What a bundle of mischief," recalls her godmother, Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna, the Tsar's sister. There was also a serious side to Anastasia's nature. She had a restless, questioning intelligence. "Whenever I talked with her," says Count Grabbe, "I always came away impressed by the breadth of her interests. That her mind was keenly alive was immediately apparent." More than her sisters, Anastasia chafed under the narrowness of her environment and used her comic sense in revolt against it." - Count Alexander Grabbe, The private world of the last Tsar, in the photographs and notes of General Count Alexander Grabbe

"The Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicholaevna was sixteen or seventeen years old; she was short, stout and was, in my opinion, the only one in the family that appeared to be ungraceful Her hair was of a lighter color than that of Maria Nicholaevna. It was not wavy and soft, but lay flat on the forehead. Her eyes were grey and beautiful, her nose straight. If she had grown and got slim she would have been the prettiest in the family. She was refined and very witty. She had the talents of a comic actor, she made everybody laugh, but never laughed herself. It appeared as if her development had stopped and, therefore, her capacity faded a little. She played the piano and painted, but was only in the stage of studying both." - The Examination of Sidney Gibbes, The Last Days of the Romanovs

"The Grand Duchess Anastasia, I believe, was seventeen. She was over-developed for her age; she was stout and short, too stout for her height; her characteristic feature was to see the weak points of other people and to make fun of them. She was a comedian by nature and always made everybody laugh. She preferred her father to her mother and loved Maria Nicholevna more than the other sisters." - The Examination of Commissar E. S. Kobylinsky, The Last Days of the Romanovs

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