#so yes this is more of the one that's being simultaneously written in two versions: one from each pov

[fist-amidst-the-hands]

happy wip wednesday! this one is the ed’s pov version of this post

—————————-

“Izzy.” Ed waits, knowing Izzy is playing out any responses that lead to him going back to bed. Fortunately there are none, or at least none that Izzy deems worth the effort to argue with him over.

With a sigh, he hears Izzy rustle around for a moment before there’s suddenly a blanket in his arms. “Fine.”

[i-yap]

I absolute love how you write Jason and your takes on him like yes!! Giving Gomez and Morticia!!! Very much a man written by a woman!!! ANYWAY, I very much agree that he’d likely be with a civilian reader! So what do you think would be the little routines they’d fall into? Like grocery shopping and working out and date nights, like just the little details and minutiae of life that seems totally normal to her but means a whole lot more to him

I love love domestic jason, i love writing him , like he is so perfect i-

Domestic jason x reader

No one else does the chores around your house, unless you want to hire cleaning service, he doesn't.

He likes the simplicity, the domesticity and warmth and closeness and normalness of just being home, cleaning together, one washes the dishes and one dries. One cooks and the other presses shirts on the kitchen counter. making out on top of washing machines or making putting you bed together an impossible task from how he keeps dragging you in for cuddles (or more wink wink)

Man is starved. Like do something as simple as giving him a tissue just as he is about to sneeze, he will die on the spot. like wdym my lovely y/n was noticing me and observed that I was twitching and raising my arms about to sneeze...she knows I exist??

Rather than going "out out", jason loves really simple dates. Bike ride to a bookstore in a different town just because they have the hardcopy with the pretty art version of a book. Or drinking hot chocolate in a crowded cafe but you two are huddled in the corner. Or staying home and cuddling *(and more wink wink)

Also jason has really cold hands so when you just "oof jason why are you hands so cold jesus you should wear gloves no" and pull his hand into your coat pocket or if your at home just tuck it between your thighs even though you yourself are feeling cold.....man is now dead please bring flowers to his grave. Dw the rest of his body runs really hot.

REPEAT WITH ME, IF HE COULD SIT IN A BATHTUB WITH YOU AND WARM WATER FOREVER- HE WOULD KILL EVERY HUMAN AND ANIMAL AND MICROORGANISM ALIVE TO DO IT.

he just really loves baths, its the intimacy , the quiet , the lesseing of the ache in his muscles, you between his arms playing with his fingers or him in your arms with you washin his hair.

With the amount of time you guys spend with each other, you start following a pattern. so when someone sees you do chores together, or something normal together- they are a bit weirded out.

Like you're at a batfam dinner and jason sets your plate and justs takes out peas(or any other vegetable you hate) and puts it on his plate while you simultaneously take out the mushrooms from his plate. Or if someone asks you something and jason is able to answer in full detail ( if you're drunk-sleepy-tired busy cuz he would never interrupt you)

At this rate everyone believes you just have telepathy cuz you guys never even say a word in public but somehow understand each other. what witchery is this?

He just wants to combine your soul with his because even the thought of you brings him peace and man just loves you so much. please give him the love he never got otherwise .

[mask131]

So you want to know about Oz! (5)

Now that we looked at the MGM-continuity of movie and cartoons adaptation, I propose you in those post some adaptations that are either more in line with the original novels or... just not following either the novels or the MGM movie, and just doing their own thing. Since there is a lot of Oz adaptations, for this movie I will stay by American productions, post-1939.

First my three faves, and the rest will be under the cut.

2005's The Muppets' Wizard of Oz

This movie did quite poorly upon its release - and of all the Muppets movies, it is not considered to the best in any way. There is notable use of some old CGI that aged very poorly when it comes to the Wizard's scenes... But, not only does it have one of the most hilarious depiction of the Witches of Oz ever (what do you expect when they are played by Miss Piggy?) and some cool songs - this movie has the honor of being the most book-accurate, book-faithful adaptation of The Wizard of Oz there ever was. (Well outside of Japanese animes I'll talk about later). Yep... this Muppets parody is the closest you can get to experiencing the original novel as a movie. Crazy, right?

2011's The Witches of Oz

Originally it was released as a mini-series in two parts ; and in 2012 it was recut and edited as a single movie known as "Dorothy and the Witches of Oz" (but the single-movie version deleted a lot of scenes and segments from the complete mini-series). It tells a sort-of sequel to the Oz books (yes ALL of the Oz books), while mixing it with urban fantasy - as young real-life Dorothy, all grown-up in 2000s Oz, is depicted as the current author of Oz books, only for her to discover the fictional adventures in Oz that were written about her are real, and Oz is coming to New-York to get her...

Now... this mini-series aged VERY badly. The special effects are so cheap, most of the characters are insufferable, the plot is very weak... BUT! BUT this mini-series deserves to get some attention and to be known due to specific elements, such as, the most badass depiction of Langwidere ever ; Christopher Lloyd delightfully playing the Wizard of Oz... And the Wicked Witch of the West! This incarnation of the Witch is without a doubt one of my favorit reimaginings of the character, striking the perfect balance between the character of the original novel and the MGM Wicked Witch. Just in design she is the coolest Wicked Witch of the West there ever was. Too bad the rest of the mini-series is... quite cringe.

2017's Emerald City

Yet another proof of the "Oz curse" that plagues most of Oz adaptations - because the series got cancelled after its first season, leaving the show unfinished.

What is Emerald City? It was an Oz television series from the era of "post-Game of Thrones". Since the success of GoT, every channel and network tried to create its own dark and gritty big-budgeted high fantasy series... And "Emerald City" is what happened when Oz got caught in the trend.

People were very divided on the show (hence why it ended up cancelled) - some people adored its beginning and got tired of it by the end, others hated the first episodes but by the final ones were eagerly awaiting for the next season. On one side, most people agree that it is too much and that the show handled itself in a strange way, everything being a bit crammed-in. This TV show is actually adapting simultaneously THREE different Oz novels (The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Marvelous Land of Oz, Ozma of Oz), all mixed together in a new, dark, adult iteration of Oz, so yes, that's a LOT.

However the show does work out several very cool and interesting concepts, playing around with both the MGM and the novel heritages. And while the story can get a bit convoluted due to the so-many plots and subplots mixing each other in a complicated way and not giving each other enough time to breath, the visuals are 10/10. There was a real visual effort on this show that makes it entirely worth the watch, if just as an eye-candy. They literaly used GAUDI ARCHITECTURE for the Emerald City, come on, how cool is that?

And also it is one of these shows were several actually working languages were created by experts, so that's always cool. I always stand by fictional linguistics.

Now I'll go a bit quicker for these ones because else it's going to be one LONG post:

In the 1960s, there was one animated show that dominated the Ozian landscape. 1961's Tales of the Wizard of Oz.

One of the early creations of the future Rankin/Bass studios, it is a cartoon that reuses the settng and characters of "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz"... But not the plot X) Basically Dorothy and Toto end up entering Oz by... by a hole, as if she was Alice. And there she meets her companions and each episode is about them trying to have a wish granted by the Wizard of Oz, or trying to avoid the schemes of the Wicked Witch. So... it is quite a VERY loose adaptation, and the modern cartoon "Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz" is kind of a modern heir to this old cartoon.

After 114 episodes, there was an animated special created to conclude the show. Called "Return to Oz", it IS actually an adaptation of the plot and events of "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz"... But happening after all of the events of the cartoon, and thus taking a different direction in terms of set-up.

1969's The Wonderful Land of Oz

This low-budget movie was an adaptation of the second Oz book, "The Marvelous Land of Oz". There's quite a lot of interesting stories surrounding this production - from Judy Garland supposedly having been intended as the narrator, to the background actresses having appeared in nude films created by the movie's director... However the movie tend to be ignored or forgotten compared to the other 60s Land of Oz adaptation...

1960's "The Land of Oz". First episode of the second season of Shirley Temple's Storybook

This was a much more famous adaptation of "The Marvelous Land of Oz", if only because of Shriley Temple's name. Retrospectively, I should have added it in my previous Oz post because this mini-movie takes a lot of visual cues from the MGM's Wizard of Oz, such as the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman being designed after their MGM incarnation, or Glinda's outfit calling for the MGM Glinda's design.

1980's "Thanksgiving in the Land of Oz"

An animated special for Thanksgiving of the year 1980, which is - as the title says - about Dorothy going to celebrate Thanksgiving in Oz. In 1981 it was re-cut to become "Dorothy in the Land of Oz" (with most Thanksgiving references being removed so the animated short could be aired at any time of the year - which is quite a challenge since the special is ALL about Thanksgiving... Dorothy is literaly brought to Oz by a "giant green turkey ballooon", come on!)

1987's Dorothy meets Ozma of Oz

This animated middle-sized movie is an adaptation of the novel "Ozma of Oz", and remained for quite a long time the only adaptation of Ozma of Oz alongside Disney's Return to Oz.

1997's The Oz Kids

A direct-to-video cartoon series that is just what it says. We follow the adventures of the children of the various protagonists of the Oz novels. Dot and Neddie, Dorothy's children ; Bela and Boris the children of the Cowardly Lion ; Tin Boy and Scarecrow Junior ; the son of the Nome King, and more...

2007's Tin Man

Ah, Tin Man! A cult-classic a lot of people remember fondly - especially on Tumblr. This mini-series was part of the long suite of SyFy "dark sci-fi" fantasy reimaginings (2011's Neverland ; 2009's Alice, etc).

Described as an "adult steampunk reimagining" of the Wizard of Oz, it depicts the adventures of DG, a waitress of Kansas, as she gets taken by an interdimensional storm to the otherwordly "Outer Zone", and there befriends a telepathic leonine humanoid, a man who lost half of his brain, and a former cowboy-like law enforcer of the dictature a wicked witch-queen set upon the Outer Zone...

Speaking of steampunk, the last two Oz adaptations I want to talk about are...

2015's Lost in Oz

This animated show was part of Amazon Prime Video early days at producing its own content. Originally it was just a pilot episode released in 2015. Since the pilot episode proved good, it became a three-episodes mini-series in 2016. Since THIS mini-series proved good, it became a full season in 2017. And since this first season proved good, a second season was released in 2018. And then they stopped.

At first it seems that this show is just an "updated" version of The Wizard of Oz: Dorothy and her dog Toto gets transported to the Land of Oz, and must find a way to get back home while making friends and all together fighting through the many plots and scehmes dividing the land... Except that this Oz is a more modern and updated Oz filled with magi-tech, and Dorothy's companions are not exactly your traditional band... Turns out Dorothy has to team up with Ojo, here depicted as a "giant Munchkin", and a teenage witch by the name of... West. Yes, she is the (not so) wicked witch "of the west".

And thus starts a quite unique retelling of Oz where the three teenagers must face various threats taken from later Oz books: Langwidere, here West's evil aunt ; the mysterious Crooked Magician ; and Roquat, the Nome King.

And a last steampunk Oz for the road: 2018's "The Steam Engines of Oz". This Canadian animated movie is actually an adaptation of an Oz graphic novel of the same name, by Erik Hendrix and about a modernized Oz set after the events of "The Wonderful Wizard". A young mechanician of the Emerald City, Victoria, is chosen by the Good Witch of the North to help fight the ever-growing expansion and industrialization of the Emerald City, pushed by a Tin Man who became a cruel dictator of Oz...

[my-name-is-apollo]

'Ello :D

I saw a few days ago that you mentioned something about complicated Cassandra & Apollo? I was wondering if you could expand on it 👀 Complicated CassandraApollo sounds interesting

I would like to direct you to this post because it summarises a lot of my feelings on them!

Besides that, I'd like to talk about the way one of my favorite scenes, Cassandra ripping apart her prophetic insignia during her final moments, is written in two different plays:

Farewell, ye garlands of that god most dear to me! farewell, ye mystic symbols! I here resign your feasts, my joy in days gone by. Go, I tear ye from my body, that, while yet mine honour is intact, I may give them to the rushing winds to waft to thee, my prince of prophecy

- Euripides', Trojan Women (trans. Edward Philip Coleridge)

and

Why then do I bear these mockeries of myself, this wand, these prophetic chaplets on my neck?

(Breaking her wand, she throws it and the other insignia of her prophetic office upon the ground, and tramples them underfoot)

You at least I will destroy before I die myself. To destruction with you! And fallen there, thus do I repay you. Enrich with doom some other in my place. Look, Apollo himself is stripping me of my prophetic garb — he that saw me mocked to bitter scorn, even in this bravery, by friends turned foes, with one accord, in vain — but, like some vagrant mountebank, called "beggar," "wretch," "starveling," I bore it all. And now the prophet, having undone me, his prophetess, has brought me to this lethal pass.

- Aeschylus, Agamemnon (trans. by Herbert Weir Smyth)

You can see the difference in how Cassandra feels towards Apollo. In the Trojan woman, there's still some fondness she directs towards her god. She calls him the god who is the dearest to her. She wants to take off the symbols of Apollo she dons on her body and give it back to Apollo while her honor is yet intact. It's a way for her to not let her god get dishonored in that helpless situation.

Where as in the Agamemnon, Cassandra sounds more bitter, there's no hint of fondness here. She tears away her prophetic symbols and tramples them because she wants to destroy them. She also blames her act of destroying them on Apollo. Apollo is the ultimate destroyer for her and his symbols are bringers of doom, as she says elsewhere in the play:

CASSANDRA: Apollo, Apollo! God of the Ways, my destroyer! For you have destroyed me — and utterly — this second time.

- Aeschylus, Agamemnon (trans. by Herbert Weir Smyth)

While the two plays portray Cassandra with feelings that are to some extent contrasting (but both founded on desperation), when I think about Cassandra I think like she can feel all those emotions - fondness, bitterness, scorn - almost simultaneously. Because this is her god whom she worships and has dedicated her life for. She has felt his wrath and she has also felt his divine inspiration. She scorned his advances in the past but she still gives him her body to possess his spirit. She couldn't save Troy, she couldn't save herself. But the very last vision Apollo shows her is that of her death being avenged, and that seemed like a miniscule relief for her in the last moments of her life.

Apollo also seems to takes it upon himself to orchestrate that revenge. He could have had other reasons to do that - but to avenge Cassandra's death could also very well have been one of them. We don't really get to see what Apollo thinks of Cassandra. In versions where Cassandra breaks her promise (Aeschylus' Agamemnon and Scholiast on Lycophron's Alexandra) we can definitely assume that he is betrayed by her and is angry with her, understandably so. The scholiast on Lycophron's Alexandra says that Apollo first tried to take back the gift, but when he couldn't he placed a curse to make his gift useless. So it does show that he intended to go easy on her, but it simply wasn't an option. Things are relatively simple here. But there are versions where Cassandra gets her prophetic powers without any direct deal with Apollo, yet the outcome is the same. She rejects him and gets cursed.

Now here the question arises - if satisfying his lust was truly his only objective, why did Apollo curse her instead of just, you know, having his way with her - which wouldn't be unusual for a god? It could be that he simply didn't want (which we see in the case of Sibyl of Cumae). But sometimes I like to think it's more than just that:

Maybe he did it because he knew it would be dangerous to let Cassandra have this power. He was worried that he had blessed her too much, that she had learnt so much that she could intervene with the destiny in her attempts to save Troy. And look at how that turned out for another seer Laocoon - not cursed by Apollo but killed by Athena for warning the Trojans about the Trojan horse. Maybe Apollo didn't want any other god to punish Cassandra like that. She is his beloved priestess, and if at all she has to be punished and damned, he wants to do it himself.

Or maybe (and this is my favourite thought to entertain about them) this was a way for Apollo to deal with his own helplessness about Troy. Because when you think about it, Apollo is not very different than Cassandra in the sense that he is also able to foresee the destruction of Troy, his beloved city with his beloved people, but he won't be able to save them. He is not cursed, he doesn't let out frenzied cries like Cassandra, but he is obliged to abide by the Fates, and has learnt to suffer with his emotions silently. Maybe he desired for someone to join him in this madness. It would torment them but at least he wouldn't feel alone. And he chose Cassandra because she was probably the most beloved to him, and familiar with her virtue, he probably knew she would give him a reason to curse her by rejecting him. He also probably knew that in spite of how unfair he would be towards her, she would still love him and stay devoted to him.

I know my thoughts are probably very unpopular, but I like to think that the bond between them was unbreakable, but definitely very strained. I don't know if co-dependent would be the right word to use for a deity and his doomed priestess (probably not), but I hope you get the idea.

[imaginespazzi]

hiii!!! first time anon and silent fan and follower of ALL ur fics!!! ive reread GH a billion times its so damn good your characterisation is impeccable and the way u write angst UNPARALLELED i live for it! every update from you makes MY day i live in australia so i wake up every Tuesday morning and allocate the first 20mins of my morning to a new chapter☺️☺️☺️

ANYWAYS decided i need to show my appreciation FOR CHAPTER 6 as it is 1000+/10 so here is my long review:

- Love love love all the description around the wedding details - to be known is to be loved and it’s only been a year…how could Olivia possibly know Paige the way azzi does. She really never stood a chance🫢

- Drew being “sick” and later saying “so she’s not stopping the wedding” - so endearing he just wants his pookie sister in law😭😭 i NEED an angsty scene with him and azzi in present time (how old would he be? Teens/early 20’s) where he’s clearly resentful about how everything went down

- Man Tim and Katie🥹🥹🥹 the NECKLACE my heartttttt. So gracious and supportive..would love to know if there was a part of them crushed by Paige not ending up their daughter in law

- Finding out on instagram about the pregnancy is insane i would have to be put down. Surely azzi did not find out about the wedding over instagram…surely……pls…..

- “the first thing you’re gonna see is your smile. And you’re gonna think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Just like I do” Paige’s way with words…Paige just can’t help it but ur heart breaks for azzi having to hear such beautiful things from her EX

- Paige crying alone in the tent crushed under the weight of both Azzi and Stephie in her heart ugh

- MAYBE MY FAVOURITE DIALOGUE YOUVE WRITTEN: Why is your daughter like this?” Paige demands, “how is she gonna make me cry and then send somebody else to wipe my tears.” “Why couldn’t she just have stayed?” the blonde questions, “why does she always have to overthink things and make it more complicated? Why can’t she just listen to her heart once in her fucking life? Why can’t she just let herself live? Why is it always no with her and never just yes?” - it’s v poetic but you’ve somehow managed to write it in a way that isn’t clunky but feels SO REALISTIC I can literally see the regressed 20 something version of Paige complaining to her defacto MIL about her girl problems. AMAZING

- NVM best dialogue you’ve ever written: “it’s the same one Tim had when he first met Azzi.” how does ur brain work like this?!!???????

- Steph guest appearance YAY! I wonder whether Steph ever makes fun of Azzi for how she named her child, or if they were already closer at that point. UNCLE TWIN☺️

- Naur Paige falling to her knees to catch Stephie - down astronomically bad it’s literally been a day i love them sooooooo much

- And then I yelled at Mama and it made Mama cry too and I hate making Mama cry.” - Paige and Stephie have so many similarities (purple, mint icecream etc) but the biggest thing - they BOTH love Azzi so much 🥺🥺🥺 what a privilege and simultaneously a terrifying prospect… that you are two people on the planet that can have the greatest capacity to impact her (both positive and negative)

- “that’s okay ‘cause I don’t miss.I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter. Right Mama?” “Right baby,” This made me clucky fr! Stephie is spectacular give me 14 rn 👩‍🍼👩‍🍼👩‍🍼👩‍🍼👩‍🍼

- The constant theme of Azzi being content, having enough but not having everything she wants💔 she’s sacrificed so so much it hurts me how scared she is to accept that she could be happier

- I am a SUCKER for the trope where person 1 cannot stand seeing person 2 having a meltdown and person 2 goes to leave but person 1 cannot bear the thought of letting them go and hugs them ugh this story is like a MOVIE

- “You want me to say that I flew to Dallas once to tell you that I fucked up but then I saw you with Olivia and decided you deserved better than me-” the parallels to the UCLA fic and Paige seeing Azzi with Zoe..need to see this scene written PLEASE

- “It’s never too late for us,” Paige whispers before crashing her lips against the woman” Oh Lord here we go. This lowkey shocked me cannot lie - was NOT expecting this. V v curious about the aftermath of this….before day 1 of practise is CRAZY.

ANYWAYS WOW v v long review but i just needed to show my appreciation for this masterpiece! please know that this fic brings me infinitesimal joy and i cannot wait for the next chapter!!!!!!!!❤️❤️❤️

OMG HI FRIEND (or I guess I should say mate like Australians lol?)!! Welcome to my inbox!

No one knows Paige the way Azzi does because Paige won't let anyone see her the way she lets Azzi see her

Drew is so absolutely done with these two dumbasses and had to make it very clear. I think Paige-Azzi were such an example to him and to have that taken has really made him cautious about love at the very raw age of 20 (that's how old he'd be in 2033 right?)

Paige always says the right things, the timing just isn't always the right one.

AH omg honestly it means much to me that you think my dialogues are realistic. Especially ones like that one where it's kinda heavy, I'm always a little self-conscious that maybe it sounds too speech-y and fake so I'm so glad it doesn't come off that way.

I think Steph and Azzi grew pretty close before Stephie because he was already her mentor but once she actually got to Golden State, he really took her under her wing and became more family than just mentor (Steph possibily teared up at the idea of Azzi naming her daughter after him)

Quite LITERALLY down bad lmao

The thing with Azzi, I think, is that she's a little scared to be loved. Like Azzi holds both Paige and Stephie's hand in the palm of her hands, and she's scared that she'll accident hold them too hard and crush them.

I do think there will be a flashback to Azzi flying to Dallas but tbd which chapter!

LMAO they're not very good at the taking it slow thing are they?

You are so very sweet and I appreciated this so very much!

[artistic-moth-man]

So I've been wondering if I should make this update post and I decided I'm gonna

Basically it's just to let you guys all know what exactly is going on in my unmedicated ADHD Brain by explaining every single project of mine that's currently in the works. pretty much nothing in this list is released yet so don't go looking for them

Starting off with stuff I'm collaborating with others on

Danny and the Light - an original graphic novel on webtoon that got cancelled and is getting rebooted (don't get excited though we're taking our time with it) with @stormcloudquill

Chrysalis Chronicles - An original illustrated novel or graphic novel (i haven't decided) that's ripping off/fixing all the things wrong about harry potter; with @thekrazykitsune

Mincraft Diaries - Yep! Aphmau's Minecraft Diaries, rekindled and made into fanfiction and/or a graphic novel (probably both) and this one will actually have an ending; also with @thekrazykitsune

Avatar: Lion Turtle Heart - a fanfic graphic novel about a firebending avatar after korra named Akira working to unravel the mysteries of her past self, Avatar Kazu, and his death that even she can't comprehend, as well as the strange appearance of a baby lion turtle that Akira now has to care for. Doing this with @mayday396

now for fanfic works I'm doing alone

Legend of Emily Windsnap - Rebooting Emily Windsnap's story in fanfiction form. this fic is actually going to be released some time this or next year (hopefully this year but shit's hitting the fan on my life currently) and book 1 is actually near finished!

Digidestined Diaries - a reboot of seasons 1-4 of Digimon in either fic or graphic novel form. may or may not do this with stormcloud, but I'm not sure. the thing that makes this so special is that tamers and frontier take place in the same universe as adventure. yes, takato meets Tai, and no it does not go well for the others involved

Wizard101, The Legacy of Atlas - telling a story heavily based off the first arc of Wizard101 quests with a balance wizard as a main character, featuring the friends they make and the enemies they face as the chosen one to defeat Mallistaire. this will absolutely be in fic form, most likely with illustrations

Bloom's Magic, Beta writing - a written fanfic reboot of Winx Club as a beta version of the story I planned with Storm. the comic version of BM is currently on the backburner and is gonna have some differences to the written version, but it'll be something I promise

Finally, some original works that I plan on publishing!

Chronos and Kalayah - a Time Traveler named Chronos rushes around time looking for their best friend, an immortal named Kalayah. the two of them constantly avoid the temporal police while simultaneously helping Kalayah survive being a black lesbian in American history. likely only going to consist of one book and have a novel and graphic novel form

Call My Soul - a Magic Girl series featuring Blake Janes, an ordinary boy who stumbles upon an alien named Alexandrite. Alex is tasked with keeping safe the artifacts of the ancient magical shogunate, whose spirits end up choosing Blake and his gal pals to protect themselves from the evil prince Tsukuyomi, who wants nothing more than the artifacts. this graphic novel gets really gay really fast so strap in when it comes out

Roll For Adventure - a young boy named Matt who loves playing DnD is isekai'd into a land straight out of Lord Of The Rings, and he is absolutely stoked. while he is looking for a portal back home, his elf friend Sequoia and Orc friend Yevelda help him fight his way through the coming war between the eight races. Fun Fact; I use my dice to help the characters make decisions. even major story beats are going to be up to my D20!

Lucifer the Good - this story is precious to me, and hard to describe. it involves four kids being isekai'd into a world filled with magical monsters and elemental creatures, being guided by a young voice to find secret angels, all while villainous demons under King Devil work to stop the kids from ever leaving this new world. even worse, the human kids are the only ones who can undo the vile curse on the land of magic.

that's all the stories that I'm actively working on, but I do have at least 10 more that I'm leaving on the backburner to focus on these ones! Call My Soul is also getting very little attention, but I am actively working on it! I'm seriously hoping at least one of my original works will be released to the public by 2025, but again, life is crazy. anyway, my next few posts are gonna involve Digidestined Diaries while I work on finishing up Emily Windsnap Book 2 and finalize book 1. there's only one change I wanna make, then I'll get to releasing it to AO3 and Wattpad! I promise, at least one of these will be worth the wait :3

[msclaritea]

"...In a now-viral clip on TikTok, one Christian woman takes Swift's stage performance a little too seriously.

"This is Taylor Swift's song 'Willow' where she is a witch during rituals," the woman said.

"The first video you saw was taken by a fan the other night at the concert and he says, 'yes, summon the demons b***h!' The worst part is that [Swift] commented twice [on the video]. [Swift] said: 'This is the new 'one, two, three, let’s go b***h'," the woman explained.

"So what she’s saying is 'summon the demons' is the new crowd chant that they all say when she does his witchcraft ritual.

The person added: "Then she commented laughing emojis."

Admittedly, however, Swift has previously said her song ‘Willow’ 'sounds like casting a spell to make someone fall in love with you'.

She then riffed off that notion, putting out several several witch remixes of 'Willow'.

Also, in her song 'Mad Woman' from 2020's Folklore, Swift sings: "Women like hunting witches too. Doing your dirtiest work for you."

She also referenced witch hunts on her 2017 album Reputation.

"They’re burning all the witches, even if you aren’t one," she sings in the song 'I Did Something Bad'.

What these Conservative Christians seem to have missed is the more modern meaning of 'witch'..."

What was the best way to hide the activities of the Rothchilds families? By making those activities seem like a conspiracy.

What was Pizzagate? A Russian Psyops that mixed truth with fiction. Just look at how many Pedos are falling out of closets.

What has been the biggest thing hidden about the Cult of Scientology? That it is based on the principles of Satanism and Dark Magical. Also that many of its members are Israeli and Freemasons.

The article I posted about the producer, Ovitz, being taken down by the Hollywood Gay Mafia was written as though he were a deluded liar....just like this bit of propoganda, below. Taylor Swift absolutely does do everything this article accuses her of, while simultaneously dismissing it.

And IF Taylor Swift is not supposed to be a clone representative or 'Twinned' version of Leena LaVey, then why has she been styled and posed like the known Satanist?

[real-life-senshi]

for the pgsm subtitles, I was wondering if you knew if the seaofserenity subs are more accurate than the ones you're watching? that was the version I watched, and I'm curious to know the difference.

thank you so much!

Hello hello!

Yes, I can confirm seaofserenity subs have better translation and subtitle quality than Miss Dream subs! It's generally more accurate and has a better grasp of the nuance in the Japanese dialogue!

Here's an example comparison using the scene I was most critical of for mistranslation with the Miss Dream sub.

Seaofserenity sub

Miss Dream sub (+ my own re-translation)

The fact the Seaofserenity managed to eloquently include the piece I mentioned about Ami aiming for "100 points" into its subtitle as a "perfect score" shows they are much more proficient in writing subtitles than I am as well!

However, as you can see from my screenshot, the copy rendered by Seaofserenity has a stretched video ratio horizontally, turning PGSM's 4:3 video ratio into 16:9. The visual colour quality is also a bit off (slightly faded)with Seaofserenity. As a video editor, gif maker and visual-quality snob, that's why I went with Miss Dream with live blogging. haha

That being said though, a perfect translation across languages is nearly impossible to achieve. While Seaofserenity sub is generally more accurate, they still may not always be catching the same nuances from the original dialogue I bring up in my live blog.

Another example from this scene is this:

Miss Dream sub & my own re-translation

Seaofserenity subs

Both Miss Dream and Seaofserenity translated "ura" as "dark", instead of "hidden" like I did.

I hope this helps, and hope you get to enjoy watching the show! :D

While I know you were only asking basically a Yes/No question, I want to also take this chance to explain myself a bit better...

While I have been critical of Miss Dream's sub, it's important for me to continue to reiterate that the efforts Miss Dream sub has made for this fandom are tremendously positive and should be celebrated, and the only reason why I can make those critiques and go deep into semantics is that I'm NOT actually trying to sub a show fully. It's incredibly hard to rewrite a script and try to make every single line cohesively written, especially when Japanese has such a different grammar structure. I can do what I do when live blogging because I can both "re-translate" and have the space to explain myself. When you are actually subbing a full episode, not to mention a full series, that space for explanation does not exist and you can only make the best choice forward. I would also weigh writing a good story through the scripted lines above aiming for full accuracy. At the end of the day, both Miss Dream and Seaofserenity undoubtedly delivered a great story to non-Japanese, English-speaking audiences via subbing the live-action!

I'm also not sure about Seaofserenity and Miss Dream sub if either subtitle team members are fluent Japanese speakers, or may include native Japanese speakers or not. Where I do feel very fortunate is I'm Cantonese born and grew up in an environment where Cantonese and English are simultaneously being regularly used, which means trying to translate and navigate two languages with significantly different grammar structures is quite second nature to me in my mind to catch all these nuances. Japanese grammar and vocabulary are much more relatable and connected to Cantonese/Chinese than English, so that gives me an edge in understanding some of the cultural and linguistic context just from hearing the dialogue, including recognizing and grasping the full meaning of words or idioms that English just doesn't have a direct equivalent for.

I also studied linguistics in my undergraduate studies with a special interest in semantics, so analyzing text and going hard on explanation is something I'm very used to and enjoy. lmao

[alwritey-aphrodite]

My Game of Thrones Girlies as

Taylor Swift Songs

It’s my two favorite things!

Cersei Lannister: The Man - not in a ‘she would be great if she were a man’ kind of way but in a ‘she thinks she’d be great if she were a man’ kind of way. because at the end of the day, Cersei would be a shitty ruler. She’d be straight up awful, but not because she’s a woman, because she fucking sucks. Everyone likes to shit on her solely because she’s a woman when they should be shitting on her because she’s an awful human being. Everyone would praise her as being an awesome villain if she were a male character. Hate her because she’s bad and dumb, not because she’s a woman.

Arya Stark: Karma - she is karma. She is ‘going to track you down, step by step from down to town’. She is ‘sweet like justice’. Like.. has there been a more perfect song for the girl who lists off all the people she wants dead every night before she goes to sleep? For the girl who did that to Walder Frey? She is making sure everyone is getting what they deserve, she’s crossing those names off her list, and I love her for it.

Sansa Stark: mirrorball - ‘I’m still a believer but I don’t know why’ if that line doesn’t describe Sansa I don’t know what does. She is the mirrorball blueprint, she tries so, so, so hard and even when things don’t work out, when she gets fucked over again and again and again, she keeps trying. All of those lines like “watch my shattered edges glisten” I feel perfectly capture how even when she’s broken into a million little pieces she is still keeping up appearances and doing what she needs to in order to survive. I’d take a bullet for her.

Margaery Tyrell: Bejewled - Margaery Tyrell is the love of my life, my best friend, I’m obsessed with her. And yes, there are plenty of sad songs I could have used, but I think this fits her better. “A diamond’s gotta shine”, nothing is stopping her from getting what she wants and looking good while doing it. I feel like this is another one of those songs where it’s like do whatever the hell you want to me, you’re not taking me down, and I feel like that just perfectly describes Margaery and her determination to get what she wants.

Daenerys Targaryen: you’re on your own kid - the way the phrase ends with “you always have been” and then switches to “you can face this” perfectly captures Dany’s entire story arch. She has been alone her entire life, the only person she could rely on was Visery, who was a total creep and trying to pimp her out since she was old enough to be leered at. She has always been alone, the last dragon, and yet she’s survived and she’s ruling and she has friends now. She started off so alone, and now she’s gaining confidence as a person and as a ruler and she is able to handle whatever life throws at her. “I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this.”

Rhaenrya Targaryen: this is me trying - “they told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential” I just… it’s so perfect for her. Also you can’t tell me the line “it’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you” wasn’t written about her and Alicent. I feel like it perfectly captures her balance of trying so hard to beat everyone, to live up to her expectations, while simultaneously falling apart. A son for a son

Alicent Higtower: The Lucky One - “you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used” I mean come on!! This was written for her!! As much as the hate the Greens, Alicent deserves so much better. She deserves better than a father who used her for power, she deserves better than an old ass husband who couldn’t give less of a shit about her. “Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool” is just the perfect descriptor for the young version of show Alicent - she’s just trying her best to be what everyone else expects of her. Book Alicent can rot in hell tho

[figbian]

oooh can we see some of those fences director's cuts 👀👀

yes yes yes!! for those curious here's fences which is um. a time travel fix-it but only in the sense everyone lives... its steve pov which means you get VERY LITTLE info about the plot and whats Actually happening for the other characters, so ive been keeping a "director's cut" as a potential to explain what the hell is going on for everyone else. heres a couple moments from ch1:

“[The dreams] start in early November. Steve can’t remember, at this point, what the first dream is. In his defense, he doesn’t really expect it to happen again. He didn’t know to mark it on the calendar as the first of something important. Steve’s never had that kind of forethought. He’s never had anything happen to him and think: this is going to change my life.” i had the robin/steve scene written pretty much from the beginning. the fic rotates around two scenes: this scene, and the eleven introduction. everything else is just…fic. it’s why i wrote that last line, because the stobin reuniting scene reads: “‘Steve,’ she says, and she’s laughing, and Steve, through his concern and fondness and sudden clarity, thinks, You’re who I was looking for. Steve, for all his lack of foresight, looks at her and knows. Robin Buckley, the weird girl from band who he’s pretty sure is in Nancy’s year—Robin Buckley’s going to change his life.” its all about the stobin, baby! barb in general in this fic is rlly interesting as the foil of eddie in a lot of ways, which kind of makes nancy as steve’s foil… which makes a lot of sense, bcs while this fic doesnt deal w s2 explicitly, it’s most like s2 overall, in that nancy is spiraling bcs of the pretending and steve doesnt know how else to cope. poor barb is coping with her death just like eddie is, and in another version of this fic where it’s nancy pov (which i may very well end up writing) it affects her relationship w nancy in really interesting ways! 

“His hair is shoulder length, for one, and he’s in a flannel. His jeans are black, at least. It’s kind of weird, since Steve can’t actually picture Eddie any other way (maybe he had a buzzed head in middle school? Steve isn’t sure), but it still feels off-putting. Not quite right.” i have a LOT of like. first senior year!eddie thoughts. i spent a lot of time thinking about how ive changed in the past three years, and how i’d changed from 17 to 20, and how that’s been shaped by my surroundings (and how it hasn’t) + how i changed from freshman to senior year. three years is a long time when you’re 17/18. i thought a lot about the kinds of hand-me-downs i received when i was younger & my family was less well off, and kind of matched that w eddie. he receives his leather jacket for christmas from wayne (ill point out the scene where we see it) + in an original draft of fences, he & steve go to the concert where he gets the back patch for his battle jacket in august ‘84. in my mind, he crafts this whole jacket based on the patch (which is cut out from a shirt)––this is loosely based on when my friend made her battle jacket. but ya. in my mind, as eddie fails the more hes like. fuck it. im gonna do what i wanna do. but it also takes time to build a wardrobe, so its still slow going.

Eddie’s got this pleased look on his face. Like Steve passed some sort of test. “You quit or something?” eddie and steve are really interesting (to me) in terms of internalized homophobia. to me. eddie’s always testing steve in fences, seeing how “gay” he’ll go, because eddie still thinks being gay is shameful + assumes steve is ashamed of “gay” behaviors. eddie is simultaneously ashamed of his own “gay” behaviors and ashamed of that shame while expecting it of steve. he thinks he’s mocking steve when he points out what he perceives as “gay” activities, even though what he’s really doing is attacking his own sense of self. i’ll try and point out some instances of this as they come up. meanwhile, steve misinterprets eddie’s internalized homophobia as like. regular homophobia. steve is gay (in that he’s bisexual), and his “gay behaviors” are because of that fact he’s queer, but he’s afraid of eddie noticing because he’s afraid eddie will shun him. steve’s in this really interesting position where he has this half-memory that strengthens over the course of the fic to real knowledge of what it’s like to lose your parents’ support & respect but hasn’t lost that respect yet. he can’t allow himself to be bisexual and keeps trying to “choose” heterosexuality even though that’s not how it works because he’s desperate to get things right this time around and have his parents’ love, even if that means going against what he wants and who he is. for having this dilemma, steve’s parents are notably absent: he will never have their love in the way he craves, and instead what he’s currently experiencing is simply their apathy.

here we go!! with minor spoilers for what will happen next lol... man i miss writing fences so bad! hopefully ill return to it soon bcs its SUCH an interesting piece to write and has made me think so so deeply about the characters and source material. id also like to go back and edit it at some point just to clean up phrasing, fix typos, etc.

[gerogerigaogaigar]

Talking Heads - More Songs About Buildings And Food

This album is the beginning of the legendary team up of David Byrne and Brian Eno. Rather than help polish their sound Eno understood that the shaky offbeat nature of the music was the appeal. Byrne's anxiety and confusion towards things around him is, as usual, in full display. Now this isn't really my favorite Talking Heads album, but that's like saying it isn't my favorite flavor of ice cream. Still I feel like there is a steady step up in quality for each of their first four albums and this one being in the middle of that evolution makes me feel like it's more or less on here because of Take Me To The River. That leads into my last point. Take Me To The River is one of their best songs. I've gushed about how much I like Al Green before so when I say that I much prefer the Talking Heads version you understand how much that means. Green's soulful original has nothing on the neurotic spin that Byrne gives the song.

Parliament - Mothership Connection

The influence this album, and the entire P-Funk catalogue, has had on music is staggering. Tracks from Mothership Connection are some of the most frequently sampled in all of hip hop history and George Clinton still produces to this day. But that's not what it's about, that's just what it is. I cannot explain to you in words why a song whose lyrics sheet is mostly "Gaga goo ga Gaga goo ga Gaga goo ga ga" is one of the best things ever written. I could put on the reviewer hat and talk about how the mythology represents an idea of hyper positive afrofuturism that necessarily can't take itself too seriously without diluting the message and how this relates to the dying excitement for the civil rights movement from the 60s. But that is only half the story. The other half is an interstellar DJ coming at you from the Chocolate Milky Way to tell you about the messianic Starchild and his battle with perpetual downer Sir Nose d'Voidoffunk. It's chaotic, funky, psychedelic, utterly thrilling, infinitely memorable and just one of the best albums of all time. It's honestly fucked up that it isn't at least within the top 100.

Luther Vandross - Never Too Much

This is my first time knowingly listening to Luther Vandross. He seems really happy! Like usually when you get a soul funk type guy he's always got this seductive smoldering vibe going on. But Vandross is just so excited to brag about how good his girl is. I can hear his smile. He's backed by a fantastically corny all synth funk orchestra with a hint of disco. It's not an album I'd put on myself, but I was definitely enjoying it.

My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade

Gerard Way seriously shows of their musical chops on this album. While I like other MCR records better, I can't deny that this has the best musical arrangements. And yes, you heard me right I prefer the rest of MCR's discography over Black Parade. Yes even Danger Days. Fite me. The thing about Black Parade is that, while a fantastic album overall, it feels lyrically extremely overwrought in places. And I'm sorry, but this is specifically a problem for me in most of the actually popular songs on the album. Mama, Teenagers, and yes even the title track kinda have me rolling my eyes a bit. And the bonus track, Blood, makes me want to jump out of my skin from schadenfreude. Thankfully these moments don't tank the album quality overall, but I think it deflates a bit from Mama onward.

Funkadelic - One Nation Under A Groove

It may seem odd that George Clinton led two bands simultaneously that shared most of their personnel. But see Parliament was more dance oriented and focused of the spiritual character focused side of the P-Funk mythos where Funkadelic was more psychedelic and soul focused with an emphasis on secular aspects of the mythology. This album focuses on tight grooves and long form improvisation while Uncle Jam tells you how to pledge allegiance to the nation of Funkadelica. You can always count on not getting normal ass shit where George Clinton is involved. And this album is just that. Long bass grooves with the guitar doing basically whatever it want and gang vocals that are mostly weird chants. This is the only album where you'll hear someone yell "the world is a toll free toilet" over literally the best groove you've ever heard.

Big Star - Radio City

#1 Record is obviously the better record so why was it rated lower than this one? It clearly goes Radio City < Third < #1 Record. Whatever, more or less repaste what I said about their first record but with like 30% less enthusiasm I guess? Don't misunderstand me, I love this record. I love Alex Chilton's rougher more indie take on power pop. Definitely listen to all three Big Star records, they're fantastic. (Also listen to Chilton's solo debut Like Flies On Sherbet. Everyone hates it because it sucks but its also secretly actually really good. But it does suck tho. Like in a good way.)

[estellamiraiauthor]

The Stars May Rise and Fall: The Annotated Re-read (Chapter 14)

So here we are. Chapter 14, aka the one I literally drank an entire bottle of wine just trying to get the first horrible draft on paper. And no, for the record, I am not one of those people who just drinks an entire bottle of wine with dinner on a regular basis. The first draft was an incomprehensible mess, and this therefore has the honor of being one of the few chapters that has just about NOTHING left of the original version.

As always, spoilers under the cut, including spoilers for chapters beyond this one.

Chapters 14 and 15 were both horrible to write, but for very different reasons. 15 was bad because I had to get into some uncomfortable character headspace to do it. 14 was more uncomfortable because it was the closest to a sex scene I had ever written, and while I’m not sex repulsed, I’m also just… not good at titillation? I don’t like reading sex scenes unless they also contribute to plot or characterization, and I really can’t write them at all.

Lucky for me, I guess, that this isn’t a sex scene?

Teru and Rei both THINK it’s going to be, though, because why else would they end their date with a long, painful walk to a love hotel? The place is called “Rakuen”, which means “Paradise”, and yes, that’s exactly a nod to what you think it is. Unlike the live houses and CD shops, this isn’t modelled on any one specific real-life place, but is definitely based on on a couple of real-life love hotels I’ve visited.

Love hotels tend to be simultaneously both really nice and really tacky. If you’re OK with all the lights being tinted pink and the bathtub being made of gold glitter, you’ll get a bigger and more comfortable hotel room for less money than you would at a “legitimate” hotel. I tried to sort of convey that in the description here. The place is shaped like an amusement park castle, but inside it actually is kind of nice?

The actual process of selecting a room varies from place to place, and is probably more high-tech these days, but the system they use here—lighted photos of each room that go dark when someone is using them—is something I actually saw being used around the time the story is set. This particular hotel's reception is unmanned, and Teru mentally comments that a fully-staffed love hotel wouldn’t let two men enter together. I’m not actually sure if that’s true. It’s something I was told, ages ago, that they only allowed two people, one man and one woman, to enter together, so if you wanted to use one for queer sex or just to sleep alone if you missed the last train, you needed to find one that had an automated check-in. I’m not actually sure if that was true, and I hope if it ever was, it’s better now… but even if it wasn’t 100% true, we’re in Teru’s point of view and we can just assume that someone told him the same thing?

There are a couple of little things here that show how Teru is learning HOW he can help Rei without pissing him off. The room key drops into a slot that Teru has to bend down to reach—something that would be more difficult for Rei, but rather than OFFERING to help, Teru just bends down and gets it. That’s something he starts to do a lot over the next few chapters… if he ASKS, Rei will say no, but if he just DOES stuff, it seems to go over better.

They get to the room, and there’s a moment here that I really like where we look at the difference between their goth-y boots. Rei’s are ridiculously complicated, requiring the loosening of multiple buckles to get off, while Teru’s have elastic on the sides that let him slip them off easily. I think you can read this two ways: Either Rei’s boots are something he’s owned for a long time and isn’t willing to give up, or… maybe he bought them BECAUSE they’re difficult. He’s so worried that people are going to think that he does a certain thing BECAUSE of his disabilities that he goes in the opposite direction—choosing difficult things BECAUSE they are difficult, so no one ever gets the chance to think of him as anything other than perfectly capable.

As a possibly unintended benefit, though, leather buckles that can be tightened to fit probably also kind of help those boots function as imperfect ankle braces of a sort, which will kind of come up again later but isn’t really important here.

Even before they get in the room, Teru starts to hesitate. It feels ominous and final when he sees the light above the door turn from blue to red, to show that the room is occupied, and then it feels really final again when Rei asks him to sit down on the bed.

And then we get into the undressing. I actually… am somewhat proud of this scene, in the version that ultimately went into print. I think there’s a lot going on here… it does sort of read as a lead-up to a sex scene that never happens, but I think there are a couple different layers to this, and a lot of “Can I do this? Is this ok?” between the two of them. I think that’s partly “Are you comfortable with this in an intimate sense?” but also, “Does this hurt you?” and a bit of “Can I touch your probably expensive medical orthotics that I have no idea how to use and am afraid I might break?”

(One thing that I do wish I had made more explicit on the page: Teru has probably never really met a young (i.e. not elderly) person with a disability before... in Japan, even disabled kids whose disabilities are purely physical and don’t interfere with their ability to learn at all generally go to “special needs” schools, and job opportunities and things were VERY limited until recently... he literally has no fucking clue what he’s doing, no one’s ever taught him what is and isn’t polite to ask, etc.)

Teru does tell Rei directly to let him know if anything he does hurts, and Rei’s answer was originally supposed to be the tagline for the whole thing: “It hurts when you touch me, but it hurts even more when you don’t.”

This is another “not entirely true” thing of course, but the worst of Rei’s pain doesn’t really depend on touch—it’s chronic pain from nerve damage, and while there are probably things that Teru COULD do to really hurt him if he wanted to, it’s not likely that his careful touch here would harm anything, and “it hurts even more when you don’t” is clearly a reference to emotional, rather than physical, pain. Poor Rei hasn’t really been touched in an intimate or even friendly way by anyone but Teru in five and a half years… he’s definitely very touch starved.

So Teru undresses Rei first. One thing I do remember adding in a fairly late draft was when he touches Rei’s bad arm and asks if he can feel it. Rei doesn’t really answer, but he says “Would it repulse you if I said no?” I think that’s a really important moment for Teru… first of all because it DOES clearly mean no, he can’t feel anything, but I think it’s also a little shocking because while Teru does see that as SAD, he definitely doesn’t see it as REPULSIVE, and the fact that Rei actually expects repulsion (and is possibly repulsed by the idea himself... Rei is 1000% the most ableist character in this story) makes him even sadder.

ANYWAY, Teru undresses Rei down to his underwear (plus the mask and wig) and then Rei does the same to Teru… and this is where they both start to hesitate.

It’s very mutual, I think, when they decide to stop, to not force SEX per se, but to turn first to other forms of intimacy. For Teru, I think it’s PARTLY still the idea that Gay Sex Is Scary, but beyond that, I really think he just HASN’T had sex with anyone he really cared about before. This is new, and the stakes are just a lot higher than with the girls he pretty much slept with because he felt like he should. (Please see Jim Steinman’s lovely Safe Sex for inspiration.) And I think it’s actually a relief for Rei to realise that, because it’s a huge step for him too, and neither of them are ready. When Teru says “I am [ready]. I want to be.”, Rei immediately goes cold and distant. I never really explain why on the page, but I think something about when Teru said there reminds him of Saki, of something Saki (who was also younger and less experienced) said at some point in the past, and lets him know that he isn’t ready for this step, either.

So they kiss instead, and lie down together to just talk and be together… which seems like a good thing to do before having sex, if it’s someone you really want more than just a physical relationship with, and Teru asks Rei to let him see his face.

And Rei says yes, because this has to be consensual, even though he definitely doesn’t seem excited about it.

And then we have the chapter break, because who’s NOT going to say “Just one more chapter” at midnight for that? (Yes, I’m evil. Sorrynotsorry?)

[tjatheconlanger]

Ik heb in 2022 1.568 keer iets geplaatst

Dat zijn 1.568 berichten meer dan 2021!

56 berichten gemaakt (4%)

1.512 berichten gereblogd (96%)

Blogs die ik het meest heb gereblogd:

@literary-squagon

@arend000-blog

@bamsara

@your-favorite-closeted-bi

@florida-irl

Ik heb 227 van mijn berichten getagd in 2022

#:3 - 22 berichten

#:p - 6 berichten

#tjasks - 5 berichten

#thaelich - 5 berichten

#joke - 4 berichten

#here ya go - 4 berichten

#saori - 4 berichten

#genuine - 4 berichten

#rukou'ant - 4 berichten

#yes - 3 berichten

Longest Tag: 71 characters

#made myself in piccrew with the dutch flag behind me because i am dutch

Mijn populairste berichten in 2022:

#5

Hey, hello, I’ve decided to finally create a post to explain who I am.

I am TJA, a part-time writer and conlanger, I write fanfics on Ao3, mainly Mha or Fnaf

I currently have 24 conlangs, a conlang, or constructed language, is a language made by a single person, or a group of people, for one of a few reasons, though mine is mostly fun.

My conlangs in the standard order are:

Seissiric: a germanic language using the cyrillic script, with å and ø. (Ss)

Iaponic: sort of Japanese, though with less kanji. (Ia)

Saori: a germanic-ish language, using its very own script, based on Artifexian’s ‘OA’. (Sa)

Sierien: a germanic language. (Sr)

Sachrai: a mostly germanic language, though with a complicated version of the latin script with way too many diacritics. (Sc)

Mnavokh: a slavic language based on Russian, it has no spaces. (Mn)

Ytr/Jtr: a slavic language, though more similar to Slovenian and the likes. (Yt)

Zhuzhian: a germanic? language with its own script, this one is typeable, thankfully. (Lj)

Helaja’ika: an elvish language, used to have its own script, but it was untypeable, so I dropped it. (HL)

Pegas’ika: basically Helaja’ika, but with the Greek alphabet, and some minor differences. (Pi)

Thaos: based on Fr*nch, don’t know whether I’ve made it easier or not. (Ta)

Thaelich: based on Dutch, which is my native language, though it uses some old-english characters, such as þ ð and æ. (Th)

Rukou’ant: a slavic language with very few characters. (Rk)

Rakhchi: a slavic language based on Russian, thankfully has spaces tho. (Rh)

Lazerna: a germanic language with a script which is a mix between the latin and cyrillic scripts (why did I pick the latin r and slavic г). (Lz)

Ğajaţi: a romance language based loosely on Romanian and Fr*nch. (Gj)

Witase: this is a language which is quite unique imo, but its sentences can be somewhat long. (Wt)

Neùre Tho: a germanic language with a few more diacritics, though it has some small influences from Dutch and Fr*nch. (Nt)

Arhwnith: a weird language with a ton of diacritics and other weird characters, mostly based on slavic. (Ah)

Kije: a language for which I limited my vowels to e i and u, but gave each of them four different lengths. (Kq)

Krawzhish: a polish based language. (Kr)

Dó-chiāu-lièng: a language based loosely on Vietnamese, with it being just the inspiration for it. (Dc)

Syric: a germanic language, simultaneously easier and more complicated than Sierien and Seissiric. (Sy)

Arkhaic: a language with quite some diacritics, though a tad simpler than others, :3. (Ak)

Here’s a sentence in each of my languages, just to show the chaos beauty of them

‘Hello Tumblr and my fellow mutuals, this is just an example’

Het volledige bericht bekijken

6 notities - Geplaatst 12 mei 2022

#4

♾

:3

Like a prophecy fulfilled, I'm a prodigy revealed I'm at the top of any field when I'm choppin' as I wield Now, I'm notchin' up the kills, every block is gonna build A cacophony I've filled up with audible brilliance

8 notities - Geplaatst 19 augustus 2022

#3

A new masterpost to show all of my conlangs, with the way they are written, as it even has Saori in its actual script.

You are also allowed to send an ask with a sentence or two and one of the conlangs, and I'll try to translate it :3

Seissiric - a germanic language with hints of dutch, using the cyrrilic alphabet along with the characters å and ø (Ss)

Seissiri - ein germanishe tål mit ein flugl an niderlåndisch, mit das kirilishen alfabet mit å und ø (Ss)

Сеиссири - еин германише тåл мит еин флугл ан нидерлåндищ, мит дас кирилишен алфабет мит å ун�� ø (Сс)

Iaponi - a knock-off version of japanese, made by someone with limited knowledge of japanese (Ia)

iaponi-go - Nihon-go no nokku ofu, pashinde ikundo hatanki rādota (ia)

いあぽに語　-　日本語のノックオフ、ぱしんでいくんどはたんぎらあどた　（いあ）

Saori - a germanic-ish language using its very own script based on hangul, sort of (Sa)

Sa’o’ri - un ri ger’mann’nikh avr’vra wyn es’kript yv hañ’gul, sort of (sa)

Sierien - a knock off version of german, that’s all i can really say (Sr)

Sierien - ein knock-off versie van deutsch, das ist alles was ich kann sagen (Sr)

Sachrai - a language isolate, i guess, it uses the latin alphabet with quite a few diacritic marks. screw that, many diacritic marks (Sc)

Sakhrai - u shpraaksistema isolaatia, khai guessa, es arazh as alfabeta latinshi an wea diakriti. shcho es, viela diakirti (Skh)

Saćrà - u šprāksistema isolātí, ćà gúßa, es araž as alfabeta latinši an wé díkriti. ščo es, vìla díkriti (Sć)

Mnavoch - a slavic language, but without any spaces, good luck (Mn)

Mnavokh - slavikskiya, dvizhasaskishchy, udachi (Mn)

Мнавох - славикския, движасаскищы, удачи (Мн)

Ytr - a slavic language, which has gotten quite some influences from slovenian recently (Yt)

Ytr - yazik slavikshi, zhatsi shre zazhzats influenchia v slovenski (Yt)

Jtr - jazik slavikśi, źaci śre zaźzac influenćia v slovenski (Jt)

Zhuzhian - another language isolate, with its very own alphabet, though it has some influences from german and dutch (Lj)

Zhuzhas - an ander linggwa isulat, wo alvabeta zhe shia, zoh talzhe av ae invluenshiae da linggwa at Germaniee et linggwa at Nederland (Lzh)

Ćućác - án ánfėy ÿiñxŵá ícüÿát, wó áÿŵábétá ćé çiá, čöŷ táÿćė áŵ aè ínŵÿuénçiaè fá ÿiñxŵá at Xèyňániée èt ÿiñxŵá at Néfėyÿánf (Ÿć)

Negija’ika - an elvish language, uses the latin alphabet in a syllabary like fashion, the third form of the language (Hl)

Négijá’ika - ika’é élévî, zé’û aùfâbéte látin zû sîlíbárija, sén kún ika’é (Hl)

Helaja’ika ihla - the original version of Helaja’ika, using its very own script, and not bound by being a syllabary (Hi)

Helaja'ika ihla - seda walije u helaja'ika, aahi esdlibetaa, ni buuntaa i silabali (Hi)

ƥelqjqʋıɲq ıƥlq - çeɲg wqlıje u ƥelqjqʋıɲq, gƥı eçɲlȷbeðg, nı bųnðg ı çılqbqlı (ƥı)

Pegas’ika - the second version of Helaja’ika, adopted when i decided to simplify the language by using a single script (this was when i used an ipad) also this uses the greek alphabet (Pg)

Het volledige bericht bekijken

9 notities - Geplaatst 6 juni 2022

#2

Liam was sitting all alone, care to join him?

>Yes

>No

Yes

44 notities - Geplaatst 26 augustus 2022

Mijn #1-bericht van 2022

Ama as well

69 notities - Geplaatst 23 mei 2022

Bekijk je jaaroverzicht van 2022 →

[moonyslove78]

OKAYYYYY! So I've obviously been out of the fic reading game for a bit now, except for the occasional short one shots I can get to every once in a while. BUT... When @liz-allyn said "Sugar & Vice Vol. 2", I immediately dusted off my tumblr and was ready and waiting. Even though, let's be honest & call a spade a spade... if Liz would've posted her version of the Webster's Dictionary, I'd have made sure to make time to read it... because that would've been the most interesting and well written dictionary there is. ❤️

Soo, I hope for all of your sakes you've missed these long ass detailed (as in a basic repost of the entire chapter with my notes in the margins 😂 but @blooming-violets told me to go with the two Parter, sooooo...🥰❤️) you're about to get another one... and my fingers are probably going to fall off from typing so much after this, but it's worth it for the series that has lived completely rent free, in not only my brain, but my entire life since day 1.

So without further ado, heeeeere we go!!

🕷️🕸️PART 1 - SUGAR & VICE VOL. 2

LOVE ON THE BRAIN SPOILERS AHEAD!🕸️🕷️

So when you first told us what the title was going to be, I could've died. Idk if I ever mentioned this to you, but I know you know how obsessed I was with the Official S&V Playlist... so it's probably no surprise to you that at least one of the songs popped up as my top songs in 2023. But the fact that you chose Love On The Brain and that was my #1 Top song, all thanks to the S&V playlist... it was like it was meant to be! 🥰😭

I'm just going to add here how much I enjoyed the tension and banter in the Cuban restaurant. I was honestly cackling the entire way through like, "Yeahhhh, Pete, you kinda deserve this... this is just a little payback for those not so subtle ways you referred to her as a whore in front of all of New York's 'finest'... oh, even you acknowledge it... good!" 😂

AND PEDRO!! Liz, please, I'm in shambles!! 😭👀

But nowwww we come to the hotel scene... the hallway was the literal eye of a hurricane and I was honestly a little scared... but also,

HELL FUCKING YES, HONEY!!! YOU TELL 'IM!!

We all already know Honey is a complete and utter badass, especially when she tries to be. And she complete ATE him up here with these few blows! I was also very aware of the wide range of emotions they were both feeling in this moment. Her's more verbal... while his were more of the silent type...mainly because 1. he was too nervous he'd say the wrong thing and fuck this up even more... and 2. Honey wasn't gonna let him get a word in edgewise. 💪🏽 Now that was some 'Independent boss ass Mob Queen' shit right there! 👑

And when she slammed the door in his face, I kept thinking... "nononononono, you can't end it like that, Honey!" And his reaction... 😭 Quite literally calling himself out on being a 'bitch' for her. Now that was some 'King of the NY Underworld who's deeply in love' shit there... 👀

So needless to say the next part, where the door flung back open, was where I simultaneously started and stopped breathing yet again.

The absolutely delicious aggressive makeout sesh that occured after was beautiful in the most filthy possible way... 🤤🥵 Is it hot in here? Or is it just them?

👀🥰

The 'there's my girl' get's me every fuckin' time!

This interaction after she bit him on the shoulder... 😮‍💨 I knew I approved of Peter's very DomDaddy tendencies... but his verbal cues are... 😚🤌🏽 *mwaaaaah* Delicious!!

"Baby, you have no idea." - "Not even a 'please'?" - "Liar." - "I know you, Honey!" - "And you're a needy little slut, aren't'cha?"

Like how Honey's panties aren't just melting off her body at this point, I don't know... cause I'm pretty sure mine were! 😳

When I say Peter's dirty talk game is by far the FILTHIEST and HOTTEST I've ever heard... I'm not exaggerating. There's no way I'd live through THAT man saying those things to me! I'd be deceased! Bury me in the backyard under my favorite weeping willow because there's no coming back from that.

Oh, same, Honey... same. I'm absolutely mesmerized. ✨

Also, I knew Peter wasn't going to let that little flirty interaction go. Of course, she knew he wouldn't either, which was more than likely the reason why she did it in the first place. Bold move, Honey.

Bold and Brave.

And I'm living for it! 🙌🏽

He just has me in a chokehold at this point. And I'm NOT mad about it. Knowing that even though he's saying "if", the truth is, we all know he "was"... so the fact is, these were most certainly all the things he was totally thinking about doing the entire time Honey and Pedro were having their little flirt off. Which... just makes this even fucking better! 🤤😳

Honey's attempt to take back the control she was losing here was admirable. I was totally rooting for her... until Peter said he 'couldn't & didn't leave her'. And he made even me stop dead in my tracks with that "What was my drink order?" question. The amount of nostalgia I got from that single tiny sentence... 😭

❤️‍🩹💔❤️‍🩹

My heart! I don't think I'll ever be able to convey into words just how much these two have made me fall in love with their love. (Or better yet, how amazing of a writer you are to have made that possible ❤️) And this small emotional interaction was packed full of so many feelings and memories, all with just those 2 words.

Honey & Lavendar should officially be S&V copyrighted trademarked. Because when I hear either one or the two together, S&V will be all I can think about. And God, did I swoon a LOT when he made sure that those were the exact words, he wanted from her as their safe word.💛💜

And his slight ramble when he was obviously nervous that she was going to say them right off the bat and leave him hanging like this. Only to be cut off by ✨that kiss✨!!

Honey pulling out the big guns with this one! I'm NGL, I mentioned my panties melting off when Peter was making his declarations earlier. But Honey's request right here may have just done the same thing... 😳

It also reminded me very much of the first makeout session they had on the couch the night of the club incident. I remember very well her saying something very similar to this then and I truly love how you've brought it full circle in such a smutty way.

God help me, I knew it! The man was watching her! Those Spidey-abilities came in quite useful for him in these moments. And damn if he didn't describe in such great filthy details what he'd seen... 👀🥵

I mean... you kinda had that comin', Peter. You did just admit to her that you 'left' her for four months, only to be secretly watching her masturbate to your memory every night... while not making yourself known by coming to help. You definitely deserved her bratty-ness here. Just sayin'.

But then... you had to go and call her a 'Fuckin' brat...' which only made this part all that much hotter. Liz, you have heard from myself and so many others before that you write so beautifully and have so much talent for storytelling. But I have say, you write filth like no one else I know. There's so many amazing writers who do bang up jobs writing smutty scenes. But I can't help but get lost in the scene every damn time I read your smut work. The filth is so fucking delicious! And what's even better?! It only gets filthier from here!🔥

See!? Perfection. This quote is something I have thought about since the first time I read it and will continue to think about for the rest of eternity. Who wouldn't be an absolute mess of a human being if Mob!Daddy Peter Parker... King of the New York Underworld just told you that he was going to punish you, HIS 'Princess', by making you wear a suit out of his cum for a week? Just me? Oh, okay then... 👀🤤

Good God, Liz. The amount of times I've already made very lewd and precocious noises is probably very unholy. But like, we're also not even to the actual P in V! I'm so glad I read this the first time while in the house by myself, because had anyone else been home... I'd have had to have a very awkward conversation.

"Lemme kiss it better."??? "Can't help myself, s-sooo hungry..."???

Like, I'm done. Stick a fuckin' fork in me and call me 'Well Done'! My ovaries imploded back there and yet, I still think somehow I'm now pregnant. Just by his words! 🥵

Damn it, me too at this point! 😳

Now see, I've always found someone doing this extremely hot. Like, hotter than the fuckin' Sahara, but who's keeping track?

But this... this... it had me on the floor.

'Clean up on isle who fucking knows!'

Grab the bucket & mop. 🪣

And that last one... the "maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too..." Excuse me? Sir? Who gave you the right to be SO damn good? Who did it? Because at this point, if I was Honey, I'd have been on my damn knees. 🧎🏻‍♀️

You did... as well as, you should! I think Honey definitely deserved more than an apology & his 'I was just trying to protect you' reasoning. Mind you, I don't think that was a lie. I do believe he was obviously doing this because he had her best interests at heart and didn't want her to get drug into the middle of all the shit he was in at the time. But like, you also clearly just admitted for the second time that you were watching her from her damn window... so closely that you were wanting to crawl through it and take care of her in very intimate ways. 👀🥵

Soooo, that's not really staying away to keep her safe, Mr. Parker. But I will approve of your reasonings now... because that move was slightly idiotic. 😂 Although, without Peter AND Honey's moments of being complete idiots, this wouldn't be S&V! Cause these two are the best 'love sick idiots' you can come by. And I love them both that much more for it. As well as their ability to reflect and realize their errors.

Well, that and I'd probably forgive Peter for just about anything the moment I see those damn doe eyes!

Anyway, I'm just glad Honey got that out there and that he has clearly established that he was being stupid and he'll 👀NEVER👀 be making that mistake again. Because I think he knows at this point, he's on thin ice and even though he thinks he's winning her back fully at this point, he's about to be rudely awakened... a couple times. 😂

(MOVING ON TO PART 2 BECAUSE MY IMAGE COUNT HAS REACHED IT'S LIMIT OF 30! 😂👀)

love on the brain: sugar & vice, vol 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!OC]

summary: You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you? AKA The night Peter and Honey reunited—Four. Months. Later. [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] 

words: 11.8k (omfg)

NSFW/MINORS DNI - ABANDON ALL CHASTITY, YE WHO ENTER HERE (detailed warnings below)

extended warnings (spoilers): p^rn with plot, detailed smut, really just... filthy and deranged. slightly dubcon parts (although consent is clearly confirmed), no Y/N...ever, arguing, anger, jealousy, physical violence (slapping, scratching, throwing objects), almost hate sex, fem!reader with a vagina and breasts and wears a dress, oral (f! receiving), P in V, rough!dom Peter, sub!reader, possessive!peter, mirrors, titty!worship, shame and slight degradation, use of emojis, f! being restrained, discussion of masturbation, slight breeding kink, non-consensual voyeurism, moderate BDSM kink, “punishment” play (spanking, edging) bratty reader, peter parker being a dunce around women, mob!au, furniture harmed in the making of this

names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl

A/N: This is a one-shot standalone story that takes place immediately after the Epilogue of Vol 1. And serves as the official beginning of Vol. 2. If you haven’t read Vol.1, you really should. The main OC is AFAB and goes by the name “Honey.” You’ll need to read Vol. 1 to know why.  I try to be loose with my descriptions for people who prefer a Reader-Insert. But I’m not perfect. In this canon, Honey has a Latina heritage (as do I). Take that as you will. Thanks to @moonyslove78 and @blooming-violets for cheering me on through this very long hiatus. 

This is 18+ AF. And if you think the term ‘AF’ shows how old and out of touch you are, then you’re probably not old enough to read this.

This version of TASM Peter Parker is not canon. The relationships here are not healthy and the characters need therapy. Don’t date a mob boss IRL.

#1 - Love on the Brain

>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜

Peter arched a brow as he peeked down at the text message.

>>> ⋯ >>> your trip to pound town? 🍆🍑 

He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.

Real mature, Felicia. 

He almost tapped out a haughty reply but stopped. Corners of his mouth turned down, he found himself unable to respond.

“So many choices. I just don’t know what I want.”

An understatement.

The girl of his dreams sat across from him in the quaint East Harlem Cuban restaurant. They were crammed together at a bistro table near the kitchen. The enormous menu took up the entire surface, and she had spent the last 25 minutes reading the items aloud. 

It was nearly 11 p.m., and they had yet to pick an appetizer. 

The woman he’d called ‘his Honey’ sweetly sighed with a shrug. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t make up my mind.” 

Her voice had a singsong tune to it, purposefully careless. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Peter was starving.

“Maybe I’m just not feeling Cuban food tonight,” she shrugged, nonchalant.

Peter swallowed hard. Tried to rid his expression of any hint of impatience or irritation. 

“Oh,” he remarked delicately, thinking of all the different dinner reservations he’d made for tonight. It didn’t matter what magazine talked it up, didn’t matter how many “tire awards” it had won. 

Honey was unimpressed. 

“M’surprised,” he said, as emotionlessly as possible. “Thought you had your heart set on this place.”

The place was one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that had less than 10 tables, which made takeout the most popular choice. 

On this night however—a Tuesday— the restaurant was nearly empty, except for the overdressed couple and the loathsome kitchen staff, who didn’t expect to be subject to “este cabrón” and his picky girlfriend strolling in 30 minutes before closing. 

While Peter could feel the heat of their ire over the oven, Honey avoided it. She explained to the manager that Peter was “un ricacho que tiene demasiado dinero.” And with that, they were seated.

When Peter approached her earlier that afternoon in the park, he’d expected a much worse welcome. He nearly died of a panic attack when he spotted her on the park bench. It had been four long months since he’d attempted to communicate with her, and he half-expected her to throw her iced coffee in his face. 

Actually, he had no idea what to expect from her. Terrifyingly.

Peter had lamented to Felicia— “There’s no card that says, ‘Sorry, I ghosted you for a few months while attempting to shake the heat off my back.’ Which flowers say, ‘I apologize that the last conversation we had, I called you a whore in front of a room full of cops’?”

The true challenge came when Peter actually looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect that one look would render him useless. 

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ethereal. Glowing. The human equivalent of a bouquet of sunflowers, with happy round cheeks and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was the color of rainbows, and summer, and sunshine. She was the cherries of her red lip stain and the golden rays of her yellow linen sundress.

God, that dress. 

Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 

His carefully rehearsed speech went out the window when he saw her in that dress: a cotton ruched-waist, tea-length gown in a yellow gingham pattern. It featured a sweetheart neckline that cradled her breasts perfectly between the halter tie-back straps. 

He had no idea where that dress came from, but it was the most perfect piece of fabric ever to grace a woman’s body. He would buy her twelve more of them, no matter the cost. He’d buy every last one.

He’d give her the sun, the ocean, Hawai’i, and all the stars in the sky— if only she’d forgive him. He was ready to throw himself on a bed of hot coals as long as it meant that she would take him back. If she would come back home.

Truthfully, he needed her to come home.

Not to get ahead of himself, he started by taking her to dinner. 

That was Felicia’s advice—women love dinner. solves everything. the fancier, the better, with lots of red meat—u know how they say food is the way to a man’s heart? dinner is the way to the ovaries. works every time.

Actually, Felicia gave Peter lots of advice. For once, he was more than grateful to accept it. 

>>> make her feel like you can’t take your eyes off her. but don’t stare. like a creeper  >>> be a gentleman, but not a pushover. you wanna be the good guy. soft YA novel boyfriend type

Followed quickly by—

>>> but not too soft! don’t be a little bitch. if she plays hard to get, you play offense.  >>> and defense.

Peter had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew when it was wise to trust the advice of more intelligent creatures than men.

Five restaurants later...

“I thought going to dinner was your idea?” Honey asked with pursed lips.

“It was; it was my idea,” he nervously replied. “Six hours ago—it was my idea.”

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Hmm. Six hours. Long time to wait.” Her eyes fell down to the menu again. Her lack-of-sympathy said everything.

Peter’s pocket buzzed again, and he glanced down at the incoming text message from Felicia.

>>> ...???? 

He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.

<<< Not great.

“Am I interrupting something?” Honey asked with a clipped tone.

Peter jumped, pocketing his phone immediately. “No, just... just something... silly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout we get a few plates in, yeah? I’m gonna just order some stuff—”

“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, his stomach twisting. “One of everything.”

“That’s wasteful,” Honey said, judgment sharpening her gaze. “Food waste is bad enough as it is in this city.”

“Well, at this point,” he snapped with an exasperated sigh, “I might be able to eat two of everything.” The words floated away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek, wishing they would come back. Hesitantly, he made eye contact with Honey.

She peered at him disgustedly from over the top of her menu. She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other, and dropped the leather-bound book closed. 

“Don’t let me slow you down,” Honey said icily. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His pocket buzzed again. 

>>> the fuck? what do you mean?  >>> she was in love with you b4... how hard can it be to take her on a date?  >>> christ. did you fuck this up, parker?

He shoved the phone back in his jacket, nearly punching through the silk fabric. 

“If I’m wasting your time, tell me,” Honey sharply retorted. She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest. He had to force himself to look away from the way it plumped her breasts together. “I’d hate to keep you from something important.”

Felicia was right. He was fucking this up. Before he could open his mouth—

“Excuse me, señorita,” a masculine, smoky voice crooned at them. 

Peter and Honey glanced up to see a chiseled man in his 30s approach the table with a hurricane glass of ice. He was a specimen of Latin American art—a bronzed statue, with carved muscles that bulged out of his floral shirt. Deep brown eyes—no, hazel eyes— fixed on Honey as he reached across the table with rolled-back sleeves. The corded muscles in his arm, toned by long hours of hard labor, flexed gracefully as he gently set a cocktail in front of her. 

A frosted, colorless liquid speckled with crushed mint leaves filled the glass. Honey blinked with delighted surprise.

“Our compliments,” the young, disgustingly attractive waiter explained with a sultry smile and a thick accent. “In case you found yourself thirsty while browsing the menu.” 

A blush colored her skin as she glanced up at their handsome waiter. The sparkle in her smile was as blinding as ever, and she graciously looked back between the glass and the server.  The waiter— no way in hell this fuckin’ guy is a waiter— beamed back at her, enamored. 

“Oh, wow!” she gasped, reaching for the glass with dainty fingers. “Is this a mojito? That’s my favorite! How did you know?”

The waiter graciously chuckled. “Lucky guess. You look like a woman of refined taste.”

Peter felt his blood pressure rising.

Honey didn’t even look at her date, as if he was suddenly invisible. “Thank you,” she grinned, self-satisfied. “I mean, I do know my way around a Bacardi bottle.” The waiter chuckled, maybe too hard, at her silly joke.

“We want you to enjoy your evening with us,” the waiter added politely, sparing Peter a glance but keeping all his attention on Honey. “We are honored to have you as our guest.” 

The waiter spoke gentlemanly as he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Please, take as much time as you need. No need to feel rushed. It is my pleasure to serve you.” 

Peter could feel a twitch behind his eye. Could have been the fire shooting out of his eyes. Fuck this prick, probably another Broadway reject or somethin’, couldn’t buy himself a decent shirt—His mind churned along with his anger.

Oblivious, Honey beamed up at him with a golden smile. “Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied, endearingly sweet. “You are too kind, um... I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 

“Pedro.”

Honey’s brows shot to her hairline. “Pedro?” she repeated, absolutely delighted. She glanced over at Peter. “Isn’t that something?”

The mob boss’ lip curled mirthlessly. “Oh, it’s somethin,’ alright.” 

Peter continued to burn his stare—fuck his stupid accent— into the side of the aloof waiter’s head. He wondered if Pedro’s handsome, chiseled jawline was sharp enough to cut through a noose.

Buzz..

>>> you’re keepin’ your cool, right?  >>> remember what i said.  >>> anything she wants. no questions asked! >>> don’t get all crazy possessive either

The joyful sound of her laughter ripped his attention away from his phone and back towards his charmed date. 

“Pedro,” she sweetly preened. “Can you give us a recommendation?” She briefly flashed her eyes at Peter before looking back at her new friend. “My date’s clearly distracted. He has no idea what I like.” 

Oh? Peter raised a brow at that. And lost his appetite.

Peter followed Honey down the hallway to his hotel suite while storm clouds swirled in his gut. Lighting crackled with each footfall. Tension clogged the atmosphere, and they shuffled in a silent fog to the door.

Despite Felicia’s advice about controlling his inner beasts, Peter’s hackles were raised, and his stomach growled. Now, he was hungry for more than just food. And simultaneously, he’d never felt so powerless. 

Peter noted how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face suggested she was deep in thought. He wondered if she was just as tightly wound as he was. Wondered if she could break his heart with just a look.

He was flailing. Pathetic.

Peter’s fist clenched his keycard tight. He had to be careful not to snap the card in half between his fingers. Was it from excitement or terror? Desire or rage? 

He had to focus, to make this work. He had nothing if he didn’t have her. 

Rigidly, Peter pushed the door open and stood to the side of the frame to let her enter. 

She paused briefly, lips tight, as she gazed into the rotunda entryway of the lavish suite. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and he hadn’t had the chance to explain the location. 

Letting out a steady breath, she strode through the threshold and stopped. Her body blocked the doorway. She turned to look up at Peter, defiant eyes flashing.

“This is as far as you go.” 

Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.

Her tone was curt. Icy. He recognized that sound. It was the tone of voice she used when she wanted to draw blood, and it never failed to inflict pain. Her voice. Her eyes. Even her tongue was razor-sharp.

Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 

Honey narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.” 

He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 

“What did you think was going to happen tonight, Peter?” The ire of Honey’s question sliced through him. “Did you think you were gonna shave your face, take me to a fancy dinner, and then I’d just... open my legs for you?”

A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 

Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”

“‘I’ll wait for forever, Honey,’ she parroted his earlier admission mockingly. “Is that all you have to say to me? You left me! For four months!”

Peter nodded his head, not sure exactly why or when he began. “I know, I know...”

“You know!?”

The walls of etiquette and politeness between them began to crack.

“How many times I gotta tell ya? I was tryin’ to protect ya, Honey—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It stung like a snake bite. Rage filled her eyes, disdain bubbling out of her mouth. She had only just begun. 

“You buy me all this expensive bullshit!” she scolded. “And you dress up in your ridiculous designer suits and parade me to all these fucking pretentious places! Like I’m some kind of accessory! Like you own the whole fucking city and everyone in it!”

He replied with a string of noises. Or, at least, he thought so.

“Big bad mob boss—all that power—and yet, you couldn’t just talk to me? You had me wait around for you like a stray dog! You can just come and go as you please, but you—you expect me to follow you around on a leash?”

“Honey, please. Let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Peter!” her voice echoed through the rotunda and down the hall of the hotel. “I don’t want to hear a single one of your lame excuses! I don’t want a fancy dinner, or a new Porsche, or a mansion, or whatever else makes your dick hard!”

Peter blinked rapidly, stunned. His body responded as if she had just kicked him in the place she referenced, “Jus’lemme—”

“And I sure as hell don’t want another apology!” she asserted definitively. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!” 

Peter’s jaw hung open, tongue dead in his mouth. The woman who barely stood at his collarbone stared down at him, making him feel inches tall. 

“Now, I’m going to bed. Exactly as I have been for the last four months.” Her voice thundered, “Alone!”

With that, the door slammed in his face, rattling inches from his nose. The echo reverberated through the empty hallway and inside his chest, emphasizing the deep crack that formed.

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The shock subsided slowly, and his heart sank. The ache soon sizzled into a burn, boiling his blood. At the same time, the sting of her rejection was raw. Unbearable.

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

He should break down the fucking door. Throw her over his shoulder and tie her up. Gag her—Anything to get her to listen.

Haplessly, Peter’s eyes fell on his expensive shoes—his Valentinos. Or maybe these were the Tom Ford’s? He had no clue. Just more bullshit.

Fuck—He was going to cry. Maybe he should let himself just do it. Lean into it. Drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he squeezed his eyes closed. 

He was a little bitch.

Peter pictured a door closing on a rocket or an airplane. Whatever it was, it was leaving him behind. He was falling back to Earth, having placed too much faith in miracles. This was his punishment for flying that close to the sun—

The door swung open. 

Two hands grabbed Peter’s jacket, pulling him forward off his heels. It was a surprisingly fluid motion; his heartbreak had reduced the mass of his bones to nothing. 

Honey’s nails practically pierced his lapels. She yanked him through the doorway into the suite, slamming the door behind him, and slamming him into the door right after.

Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, she was on him like a viper.

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. Honey was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him. 

His skin flushed from the sudden unbearable heat. Before he could react, her lithe fingers started tugging the edges of his jacket. Clumsily, she tried pushing it back over his broad shoulders. As soon as he knew of her intent, he eagerly obliged, shrugging the garment off and to the floor. 

Her hands went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving trails on his skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss.

Every time her teeth tore at his lips, he responded with a groan into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backward a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the chasm they created. Like the barometric pressure plunging before a storm, an eerie calm settled over them. 

Honey blinked at him, jaw agape and her palm throbbing. 

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess—hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin.

His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dabbed his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquisite lines of his face were stained pastel pink, flushed by arousal or anger. His eyes were black as night, so it could have been either one.

She looked just as wrecked. Dress askew, her hairstyle half-unraveled. Goosebumps dotted her skin. She looked shocked at the violence she was capable of, surprised and possibly guilty at her own strength. As the seconds passed, the feelings faded.

Peter watched her, pupils dilating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, studying her threatening look until his own expression began to match.

Physically, his senses were haywire. Danger, excitement, and a sick sort of pleasure rattled his bones and labored his breathing. The hairs on his skin stood on end. Alarms blared in his head. The sound of his own blood was almost deafening to him, thumping like a kick drum. 

Peter could hear her heart, too. Fast. Like a rabbit. He was a wolf in pursuit. 

Maybe the pain of her slap triggered him, a preemptive action against further attack.

She got one in, Peter mused mockingly. He knew she was no match. Not as Peter’s night vision sharpened. Not while he could taste the salt from her perspiration on his tongue. Most intoxicating of all, Peter could smell her desire. Like a rose bursting open.

In another blink, they switched positions. Peter snatched her by her shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, pinning her there. She went feral—hissing and raging at her entrapment.

Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.

“Get off of me!” Honey spat.

“Shut up,” he ordered. Quiet and fierce.

Fingers gripping her forearms tight, he attacked her lips, teeth colliding. The ferocity stunned her. For a moment, it seemed like she finally submitted to him before she wriggled her mouth free.

“Mmffucker—Let me go!”

His body might as well have been a brick wall. His face was stonelike, eyes just as cold. 

“No.” 

Honey’s brow scrunched up like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’ll scream!” she countered.

Peter smirked, the hickory in his eyes igniting. “Baby. You have no idea.”

Peter’s guarantee sent a shiver down Honey’s spine. He saw the gears turning in her mind as she carefully considered pushing him further. 

He hoped she would. 

His fingers tightened around her forearms. He crucified her under his gaze. And yet, despite the danger anyone else would have felt... A glimmer of curiosity flickered in her eyes.

It set his mind reeling. A tiny sign of weakness to temptation made Peter’s stomach trapeze. He zeroed in on it, licking his chops. 

Not to make it easy, Honey brought her knee up, attempting to make contact with his groin. There was nearly a foot of difference between their heights, and she paid it no mind.

Brave girl. 

Peter admired her tenacity. She had balls. Smart, too, he pleasantly recognized. Honey went for the weak spot first. Good call. 

Pointless, though. 

Nothing below Peter’s belt was weak when she was around.

Unfairly, Peter picked up on her attack before her leg was even bent. He snatched her above the knee, lifting her toes off the ground and prying her thighs open. 

He pictured the bruises on her skin that his fingertips would leave behind. Just the thought made him rock hard. 

A year ago, Peter would have been ashamed. He would have shied away from her, for fear of repulsing her, and took out his frustration by himself in the shower. 

Grinding his teeth at those memories, he pressed Honey’s hips into his waist, forcing her legs around him, and—Fuck—her heat.

Peter’s brain nearly short-circuited. She was like a bonfire against his belly. His cock pushed against his trousers, straining for her warmth. He secured her hips to his with a tight grip, which only pissed her off more. She thrashed, enraged. 

She really needed to stop doing that. It only made the burn worse. 

A few months ago, Peter would have been ashamed of the rush he felt from manhandling her. Ashamed of how his cock ached and twitched at her fruitless tantrums.

“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.

“Yeah?” he said with a bitter laugh. “You're a spoiled little brat!”

“Fuck you!”

“See what I mean?” Peter scoffed, holding her tighter. He breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. “Not even a ‘please.’” 

His pride was short-lived. Inexplicably, Honey arched her neck and buried her teeth into his shoulder. He roared—“Fuck! What the fuck!!??” —surprised she didn’t bite through the silk of his collared shirt.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only beast in the room.

They tumbled down ungracefully. Peter landed hard on his back, with Honey crashing on top of him. She collapsed on his lungs, knocking the wind from his chest. Sputtering, he reached out to grab her, his fingertips barely missing the hem of her dress. The small woman scrambled to her hands and knees, then to her feet. 

Honey dashed into the suite while Peter’s voice echoed—“Goddamnitareyacrazy!?”—after her. 

Padding on her toes, she ran into a darkened living room with vaulted ceilings that might have been large enough to fit her entire apartment. Outside glass walls, the Midtown skyline surrounded her. The Metlife and Empire State Buildings glittered proudly in a breathtaking view.

The room was situated in the corner of the building. Velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an unobstructed view of the city. The Dark Academia-Meets-Glam aesthetic seating area featured a sleek, modern leather sectional and mod velvet chaise lounge chat set. 

Without time to admire any of it, she scrambled to the first piece of furniture she could reach. She grabbed the first thing her fingers could find—a designer fruit bowl centerpiece made of polished stainless steel and brass pomegranates. 

It was exquisite and expensive. 

Honey spun on her heel and flung the heavy metal at Peter.

He dipped deftly, his spine bowing back, narrowly missing the bowl as it whipped past him. The object barreled through a crystal chandelier, glass shattering like raindrops as they came down.

“Hey—!” he scowled, facing her with an indignant glare.

A moment later, he quickly shielded his face from another flying object: an asymmetrical crystal-and-Riverstone candelabra that crumbled against his forearm. It might as well have been a brick, with ceramic shards tumbling off of his shoulder. 

Peter bristled in aggravation, brushing the pieces off. Now, she was really pissing him off.

He glanced up just in time to see a glass vase containing two dozen roses—meant to be her gift—hurtling towards his head. Reflexively, he snatched it from the air with one hand, water and all. He palmed the crystal vase like catching a baseball. Didn’t spill a drop. 

His quick reflexes stunned the both of them. Peter’s jaw went slack—partially at his ability to save the flowers, but mostly with indignation that Honey had somehow destroyed $1,000 worth of the hotel’s tchotchkes in a few seconds. 

“Enough!” Peter barked, carefully setting the vase down. Ignoring him, the woman darted toward another side table, already reaching for another expensive object to throw at him. 

Suddenly, Honey’s ankle was caught in a sticky grip. Both legs pulled out from beneath her. She flattened immediately with an ooof—her belly dropping to the wool carpet. 

Dazed, she glanced back at her legs with a crease in her brow. With a jolt, she was pulled along by a stringy, spongy substance on her ankle. It felt the way canned compressed air feels when shooting skin at close range. 

Her nails dug into the carpet fibers as she was dragged back. “Agghhh! What the—Getitoff!” 

As soon as the pulling stopped, Honey was on her back again, gazing up at the sharp lines of Peter’s cold gaze. He towered over her, even on his knees, as he mounted her hips. Protesting, she pelted him tirelessly with her fists.

The smell of sweat loomed in the air as he finally restrained her. He caged her in, pinning her wrists to the floor. Nerves buzzing and tempers flaring, she continued to writhe and wrestle with him to no avail. Peter quickly overpowered the more petite woman, fomenting her anger. 

“You’re hurting me!” she sneered breathlessly, teeth gritted. 

Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”

“M’not lying—!”

He glared back, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re so full of shit—!”

“Fuck you! What do you know—?”

“I know you, Honey!” he charged, silencing her. 

She went still, subdued beneath his dark gaze. Peter loomed over her like a stormcloud. “I know the games you like to play,” he said—both teasing and sinister, toying with his prey. He lowered his lips until they breathed the same air. 

Honey’s focus was split between Peter’s intense stare and glistening, kiss-ravaged mouth. She tried not to notice the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric with each labored breath. He could easily reach down and touch her. Tried not to focus on how solid his chest felt against hers, like carved marble. Tried not to focus on the dark chocolate of his eyes melting in the heat of their gaze. 

Just as intensely, Peter watched her watch him—zeroing in on the idle way her tongue darted to wet her lips. The tiny action shot electricity down his spine, straight to his groin. 

Honey felt that, too. A tiny gasp escaped her, her lashes fluttering. The fight suddenly left her arms as she noticed the heavy bulge against her hip. 

He was hot. Not just figuratively. Feverishly hot. He was so hard, too—and just for her. The lewd image of him splitting her open on his cock made her insides clench. 

Peter eyed her dangerously, his voice a dark abyss. “Think you can hide it from me, eh?” The teasing smile on his lips bordered on a snarl. “Gonna sit here an’tell me... that if I were to reach down between your legs right now...” Her heart hammered in her chest, hanging on every word. In her mind, she was begging him to follow through with the threat. “...Those panties won’t be soaked?” 

Honey failed to swallow back a little mewl as he leaned down closer.

“Ya think I can’t feel ya, huh?” he mumbled, lips ghosting the curve of her throat. “Think I can’t smell how wet you are right now?” Another wanton exhale left her belly as she leaned into the heat of his breath on her skin. “Y’know I can already taste you on my tongue, babygirl.”

Honey’s mouth and legs seemed to part further at his vulgar words. She shivered at the sensation of his slick tongue traversing her pulse point.

“You’re... an asshole...” she murmured breathlessly. She sounded half-asleep.

Peter hissed, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren't’cha?” 

The sudden ferocity made her eyes unintentionally roll back. A second later, Peter’s fingers collared her, choking off the small mewl in her throat. He turned her by the chin, wrenching her attention to him. 

“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.

“How ‘bout that little stunt you pulled with the waiter?” he prodded. There was an icy edge on the last word. Her throat bobbed while she kept her face neutral. The bright amber of his glare penetrated her. Peter continued accusatorily, “Those flirty little giggles while he gave ya fuck-me eyes? Y’think I didn’t see that?”

Honey sniffed, stiffening her upper lip. This was a power move; she knew better than to back down. “Look who's jealous,” she scoffed. 

With a jolt, she again attempted to wrench her wrists free. He simply held on tighter, closing his talons as she twisted like a snake.

“Jealous?” Peter repeated calmly, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Me? Nah.” His hands suddenly seized her hips as he forcibly jerked her up off the floor. A slew of profanities spilled from her mouth, bucking against him as he carried her.

In a few strides, he was at the edge of a dining table. With little regard for his barbarity, he plopped Honey on the surface, shoving her flat on her back. Peter arched over her as if to dominate her, spine bowing until he filled her periphery with his fierce gaze. 

Honey’s eyes sparkled, cheeks colored from the rush. “Threatened, then!”

Peter’s face softened inexplicably. Blinked at her for a moment, head tilting. Then, he landed an open-palmed smack against her ass. 

It was a surprisingly heavy blow, as close as he’d ever come to intentionally inflicting pain on her. Honey yelped, hissing from the sting on her upper thigh. Right after the strike, Peter’s fingers began kneading her flesh, soothing the welt that was bound to form.

“See, if I were a jealous man,” he noted with an evil sneer, “I woulda gouged his eyes out with a salad fork.” 

Peter swallowed up her gasp with a forceful kiss. A few moments later, he broke away.

“If I felt threatened?” he added breathlessly, “I woulda bent you over the table and fucked you dumb. Let everyone in the Five Boroughs hear you beg for my cock.”

Once the filth rolled off his tongue, Peter went back to using it to lash against hers. Honey was overwhelmed by the soft, wet muscle invading her mouth. Not only that, the violent edge to his words felt like standing in a river and grabbing a livewire. A shiver racked through her body, a current of pent-up anger and desire sending blood rushing to her core.

As if on cue, Peter’s fingertips made contact with the lace fabric between her thighs. She tremored at his touch, heart skipping. He toyed with the soft, stretchy material. Snapped it lazily against her flesh.

His voice was hypnotizing. “I woulda shoved these dirty panties down his throat just to never hear his stupid fuckin’ accent again.”

Honey felt drunk off of the vitriol he poured into her ear. It was violent and possessive... and it shouldn’t have made her so horny, and yet—

Honey trembled with anticipation, panting like a bitch in heat. “I-I... can’t... ugh, fu—” 

The pads of his fingers ran firmly along her seam. She let out an embarrassing whine. Peter's prediction was spot-on. A shameful amount of wetness coated the inside of her thighs. He played with the soaked fabric and smeared her mess across her skin with a smug smirk.  

“Think I don’t know what you like?” he muttered darkly, echoing her earlier jab. 

RIP!

The lace bunched at her waist. Honey’s wet skin felt particularly chilled being exposed to the air. She quivered with anticipation. Her head was spinning, pussy throbbing. She felt worshiped and simultaneously defiled. 

Peter pressed his forehead into hers, skin-to-skin. She stared into the black of his eyes in suspended silence, like the pornographic thoughts in his head were being projected into her mind.

Her own pupils were blown black. “Fuckin’ hate you so much—”

“I don’t care.”

“—re’such an asshole—”

“I don’t care,” he repeated more firmly. Then, “You belong with me.”

“You left me!” she fired back.

The sharpness of her tone sobered him a little. He blinked and sighed. “I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you.”

She attempted to sit up, trying to lift her shoulders unsuccessfully. She writhed with spite, “Fuckin’ selfish prick, I outta cut off—”

“What was my drink order?”

He blurted the last sentence out with a mind-blowing level of calm. At once, their bodies went still. Still pinned to the table with a hummingbird beneath her breast, Honey stared up at him in confusion. 

Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”

“My drink order,” Peter repeated, his expression void of the aggression he had the previous moment. 

It was like a mask had fallen away, and the man on top of her transformed into a different person. Maliciousness evaporated, replaced by eagerness. Desperation. 

Peter stared at her, intently searching her gaze. “At the shop,” he whispered, eyes soft. “What you used to make for me every time I came t’see you..?” The words fell away as he stared at her expectantly. 

She arched a brow. 

It had been black coffee, bitter and dark. Just like Peter’s entire world. How it had always been. Until—

“You said I should try something new,” he added, with urgency like reminding her of a forgotten dream. “So you made something for me—something... special.”

Peter’s heart swelled through his eyes at the last word. Honey stared up at him, perplexed. He was looking for the answer on the tip of her tongue:

Honey and Lavender. 

Confusion ceded to aggravation. A line formed between Honey’s brows.

“You remember, right?” he asked, hopeful.

She did. He knew she did. He could see it at the corners of her eyes, pooling behind her eyelids. Sobering memories flooded her, cooling the heat between them. A different sort of ache settled in.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He took a breath, relieved but still anxious. “Say those words,” he said, “if you really want me to stop.”

Her damp lashes fluttered as Honey blinked up at him in surprise. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he swallowed dryly. His stomach lurched at the thought of being sent away like this. 

Still, it was a risk he had to take. 

“I can let go, walk away,” he offered tenderly. “Right now. No questions asked.” Each word felt like sticking needles through his tongue. He gave her an out, needing confirmation that her reciprocated lust wasn’t imagined. 

“Say the words,” Peter whispered in lament, “and I’ll leave you alone.”

That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.

Despite Peter’s heart telling him her rejection would be unbearable, the thought of truly harming her was more so. 

Honey studied him with thoughtful eyes, contemplative and curious. He had won. He subdued her. Restrained her. She remembered when he threw a piano like a toddler throwing a toy truck. 

She could do little to stop him if he wanted to force her. And yet—

There he is. 

This was the man she remembered. The one that was ready to die for her. To die by her hand, if that’s what she wanted. 

“Two words,” Peter sighed, his nose brushing against hers. It was a sweetly affectionate gesture. “Say the words, and this can end right n—”

Honey captured his lips, stealing his breath like it was her only source of oxygen. Static filled Peter’s ears, his body tensing and relaxing simultaneously. He was soaring and plummeting. Rising and falling. 

Her tongue slipped past his lips, dragging along the pad of his mouth. Soon enough, the sweetness melted off in their flames. 

Honey pulled her mouth away, barely able to get out her plea. “Touch me, Peter. Make me feel it.”

And she dove right back in. This time, Peter plunged with her, deep beneath the waves of lust. He sank into her current, dragging her with the tide of desire.

Peter’s hands were frantic travelers. Flitting from her wrists to her shoulders. To gently cup her face. To smooth over the mounds of her breasts. To dig his fingers into the linen fabric of the sweetheart neckline.

“Love this dress,” he idly mumbled between kisses, abusing the neckline. “Mmm—where’d ya say ya got it?”

“Oh…uhm—?”

The question caught her off guard. She blushed, brain foggy with lust. Her instinct was to say something like ‘thank you,’ but her tongue fumbled the words. “Uh... it was, I think, Old Navy—?”

A ripping sound shocked her. She squeaked as a flurry of cotton fibers burst from the top of the dress. 

Peter yanked the linen bodice apart like tissue paper, his tongue chasing away any protest from her lips. Gooseflesh broke out as her skin was exposed to the air. Driven by lust, he shoved the ruined material down to her waist. 

“Fuck, Peter...” she gasped, scandalized.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.

It was his turn to be greedy. Peter dug his hands beneath the cups of her bra, toying with the peaks of her breasts. 

With a snap, the bra was torn in half. The strength in Peter’s long fingers stunned her. Puzzling her as much as it turned her on.

He laved at her left breast with his tongue, drawing an obscene moan from her. His hand pinched sadistically at her right nipple. The delectable sting traveled from her chest to her cunt. She arched—”ughhh, god”—her spine bowing beautifully.

He held the cleft of her left breast delicately in his hand while lapping at the ridges of her peaked flesh. Warm tongue caressed the tip, drawing shapes and discovering pathways to her pleasure. Every little flick inspired something new. She cooed and twitched beneath him. He was desperate to memorize her taste. 

Languidly, he massaged each of her tits inside his mouth, his cock aching as he imagined licking her pussy with the same fervor. It was almost unbearable. A strangled moan vibrated through his chest at the picture in his mind. 

Her reaction to the sound came out as an agonized mewl. 

Oh.

He needed more of that sound.

Peter felt her push on his shoulders. Trying to wriggle away from his mouth. 

This time, he had no tolerance for misbehavior. He grabbed both wrists and forced them above her head. Honey yanked back, stunned at being glued down to the table surface by his palms. 

The peach of his pouty lips curved upward as his eyes took a turn ravishing her. She was a sight of wicked debauchery. Her hair was a mess, and her nearly-naked body lay across the table like a feast. Her thighs locked around his hips.

He used one hand to rub circles into the delicate skin of her restrained forearms. The other hand mischievously dipped lower and lower, sliding through her wet heat. Calloused, dexterous fingers spread her lips open, playing in her slick and prodding her tight hole. 

Honey was finished. Ruined. Past the point of no return. Unconditionally surrendered. Helpless and eager to subjugate herself to her conqueror. Filthy sounds filled the room, punctuated by weak cries from his new loyal subject.

“So pretty,” he sighed breathlessly as he coated his fingers in her cream. “All this for me, princess?” He cooed at her, edging on cruel.

A broken gasp fell from her lips, her chest pulsing involuntarily. 

“Aww, what’s the matter? Does this little pretty pussy ache, baby?”

A vortex formed deep in her belly, dragging her in. He licked his dry lips, salivating at the image.

“I know it hurts, baby, I know. I know,” he teased. “It’s been hard playin’ all by yourself, huh?” The sunniness of his voice was eclipsed. “All alone. Screamin’ out my name into your pillow. Fingers buried deep in your wet cunt.”

Honey’s eyes snapped open. Before she could respond, the breadth of his middle fingertip penetrated her. She gasped as his finger speared her open. All the while, he wore a devil’s smile.

“Ain’t that right? Only for me.” Entranced, he watched her every twitch and shudder. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

It was a question feigning the need for her confirmation. She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. 

No, that can’t be right—had he been watching her masturbate in her apartment? Was he watching her the entire time he was gone? 

The possibility enraged her. Ten orgasms from the King of New York’s Underworld couldn’t even quell that fire.

Peter smiled wickedly, playing with her pussy. Taking his time toying with her flesh. He was a tyrant-king, dominating her pleasure. With a calloused hand, he held onto her cunt like it belonged there.

But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.

“Oh-n—ohh god,” she gasped. Unbeknownst to him, an evil plot bloomed in her brain. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”

He licked up each broken syllable.

“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 

Sweat beaded on her chest, sin oozing through her pores.

“...Pedro.”

Halt.

Brakes squealing. Full stop. Not only in the physical world between them but also in Peter’s living fantasy.

Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 

She got him, alright. 

Flawless victory.

Dark eyes flashing, Peter withdrew his fingers from her. “Fuckin’ brat…”

In one fluid motion, Peter flipped her over to her belly, stunning her. He followed with another forceful slap to her ass cheek. This one was more punishing than the last, drawing a puppy-like yelp. His voice was ice. Eyes black. 

Now, she was in trouble.

“Think that’s funny?” he said through gritted teeth.

Peter manipulated her limbs like a rag doll. He maneuvered her forward until her cheekbone pressed against the table. She panicked for a moment at being in such a compromising position. 

The chill of the air across her wet pussy made her shiver. At the same time, she clenched at his roughness.

Peter kneaded her sides, pressing fingerprint bruises on her waist. He yanked her hips towards him until her knees were on the table’s edge. Honey’s face burned, stricken with modesty and flustered by how he hoisted her ass in the air. 

Her hips were propped up like a rack of lamb, and he licked his lips at the sight. It was too vulnerable, being bared to him like this. Obscene, on display, inches from his face. 

For a half second, she considered using the safe words. 

She squirmed uncomfortably while her mess dripped down the inside of her thighs. Peter denied any attempt to escape, eventually gathering her limbs and pulling her hands behind her back. 

Short puffs of breath fogged the glass surface of the table. Her heart pounded beneath her. Honey had only witnessed this side of him a few times—and never directed toward her. 

She was in trouble. But was she in danger?

The buckle of his belt clinked as it came free. Honey quivered at the sound, pussy aching in anticipation.

And if she was in danger, why did that make her wet?

“Pete—” Honey muttered, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Leather nipped at her forearms as he used his belt to tie her hands behind her back. 

“Ple-please—“

He fisted her hair, rearing her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, her chin dangling above the table surface.

“Listen to me, princess,” Peter snarled, hot in her ear. Spite peppered his tone. “If you ever call out another man’s name when I’m inside ya again— I’ll make ya wear nothin’ but my cum for the next week.” 

The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 

It was always opposites with him.

This was the same man who coddled and worshiped her. The same one who kidnapped her, drugged her, blindfolded her, and gagged her. 

He forced her, a willing participant, into his bed—by asking her permission. 

Peter was more than capable of keeping her chained to his bedpost if he wanted it. 

Or… if she wanted it.

Peter snickered at her expression. “Ooh, yeah… Betchu’d like that, huh?” He taunted her like she was broadcasting her dirty thoughts. “Such a needy little slut for me, ain't that right?” 

Honey felt his warmth leave her back, like being plunged into the Hudson in winter. His hands reappeared at the back of her thighs, and her first instinct was to try to close her legs. 

That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 

He split her thighs like opening a book. Grinned at the sight as if he stumbled across gold.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re soaked. Just talkin’ about it and look at the mess you made…”

Embarrassment and want ravaged her. The conflicting experiences had her ovaries twisted into knots. Honey bit her tongue, unsure if she was going to scream or moan. 

Instead, it came out like a pathetic mewl. “Pe-Peter, please—”

Then he open-palm-smacked her cunt, fingers landing directly on her labia. 

The wet sound it made was humiliating, and the sensation triggered all of the reactions above. She squealed at the sting on her folds. This was a delectable torture. For Peter, it was an appetizing sight. 

“Ya like that?” he grinned over the sound of her whimpers. He already knew the answer.

Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 

“Like bein’ my kept girl? Tryin’ so hard to get my attention. Drivin’ me nuts. Well, you got it now, Honey.” 

Slap. 

A third strike had her pussy clenching. Honey had never experienced such an erotic rush before. She shuddered with embarrassment, afraid she’d cum from this—

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Honey gasped for air, a scream breaking through her voice. She was drowning in sick pleasure, tears in her eyes.

The mob boss gripped her thighs again, pulling her knees off the table and lifting up the weight of her lower half. The action was as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. 

God, his strength was impossible. She struggled to comprehend it while picturing herself being broken apart by it. A slew of tiny pleas fell from her lips. She didn’t even know what she was begging for—his mercy or punishment.

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he purred with a candy voice. Brought his lips to where she was split, equal parts seductive and sinister. “Be still for me. I gotcha.” He wore a Cheshire grin. “Lemme kiss it better.” 

Slowly, he licked a line from her clit to the entrance of her cunt. She shuddered, followed by a lewd wail. She bucked her hips as he let the tip of his tongue toy with her. 

“Mmmf—so fuckin’ sweet,” Peter mumbled between languid strokes around her vaginal gate. His grip was inescapable. “Can’t help myself, s-sooo hungry…”

Honey felt an evil smile against her skin before his mouth went back to work on her. Tiny, stinging nips and kitten licks tormented her flesh. With her hips locked in place, he lashed her clit with his tongue.

Honey squirmed against the leather belt, her nails digging into the grain. She wanted to be bound like this forever. 

Peter had no intention of letting her go any time soon. 

With her thighs spread open, he dragged her toward the edge of her ecstasy. As soon as he felt her body begin to shake, he pulled away. The punishment ended with another smack to her swollen clit.

Honey cried out in frustration at having her release snatched away. 

Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” he smirked with a dark chuckle. This was becoming his favorite pastime. “You mad now that you’re not the only one who can play games?”

“Gahh—Peter… fuck, plea—don’t tease—!”

Peter’s fingers slipped inside with a squelch, shutting her up. Simultaneously, he lapped at her juices while massaging her walls. Soon, he settled into an unbreakable focus.

Each kiss to her nether lips sizzled with passion. Fueled by devotion usually only reserved for a wedding day. 

“—mmmm, tastes so pretty,” he murmured into her flesh, “my pretty girls...” 

In her dazed state, Honey wondered with a pang of jealousy who the ‘she’ he was referring to was. 

“—sooo sensitive; she likes it when I kiss her like that, yeah?—” He said, in between languid, open-mouth kisses to her slit.

Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s talking about my pussy? In the third person? 

Honey gasped, scandalized at the preposterous thought. It was the most deliciously erotic moment of her life. Enraptured tears budded her eyes, the coil in her belly nearly suffocating her.

“—Fuck, oh god, Peter, don’t stop, don’stop, donstop, donstah—”

Preoccupied with his own intoxicating thoughts, Peter was eager with his tongue and steady with his hands. The room filled with the filthy, wet sounds of his carressing and French kissing of her cunt. He pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, passionately— reverently— as if making love to two different brides. 

Soon, Honey’s pleas were barely more than breathless whining. He smiled like the devil, lips coated with her slick. 

“Patience, Honey,” he admonished, sing-song and patronizing. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too.”

Fuck—she was going to come from this. 

The more perverse his words were, the closer she was. So, so close—

Then, another sharp slap. 

Honey wailed, fingers digging into the leather of her restraints. Her whole body protested. The cycle repeated so many times she lost count—until her flesh was puffy from his torture. 

“Please, don’t—please, Peter, don’t tease,” she frantically begged, tears streaming. “No more— Please, I wanna come so bad—” 

He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”

“God, yes, please—Nyahhh-need you—Need you... inside—“

Peter hissed behind his teeth, struggling to keep his pace even as his cock jerked at her pleas. He flashed an evil smile. “S’at right?”

“Pl-please, f-feels so good, ple—gah-I need it—!”

He was in no hurry. It was almost greedy, the way he ravaged her. His fingers pressed Merlot bruises into her hips and waist while his mouth left raspberry welts on her thighs. 

Honey cried out around a moan as she felt his fingers deepen. His loving touches to her sensitive spots turned wicked, reminding her this was also a penalty for her bratty transgressions. She wept and squirmed, practically drooling on the table.

He simply grinned.

“—Mmmhm, that’s it—scream for me, princess—”

Honey’s tiny little hip thrusts fit easily in his palm as he groped her. He found it adorable, really.

“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he panted, eyes blown black. Shadow returned to his voice. “You’re mine now, ya hear?” His eyes traveled to where his fingers were buried to the knuckles. “Gonna fuck you every way I want—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”

His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.

All mine. 

The sinfulness of his thoughts tugged his insides into a vortex. This was wrong, he reasoned. Not how he wanted this to go. Poor girl sounded brainless, begging to be fucked.  He wasn’t much better off. This wasn’t how he planned this to go. 

But he was willing to pivot.

Hands shaking, he fumbled with his fly. It wasn’t until his cock bobbed free, glistening with precum, that he felt any sort of relief. Peter grabbed her hips and lifted them off of the table, repositioning her so he was lined up with her slit.

“Fuckin’ need you so much, Honey—” he muttered mindlessly, focused on pushing the swollen, leaking crown of his cock against the silk of her pussy. 

Her hips’ weight rested easily in his hands, and she keened at the sensation of his head pressing against her entrance. 

And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.

Honey tensed up, even as her pussy throbbed with want. It was as if all her muscles were reaching for him, heart included.

It was too much. Mascara trailed faintly down her cheeks. Her heart soared. And ached. She felt spoiled with pleasure, delighting in this penance.

More. She wanted more.

“Fuck—wanted ya so bad,” Peter mumbled, watching his cock slip through her lips. He sounded airy, hypnotized by the view. “Wanted t’crawl through your window like the goddamn—ahh— boogeyman... fuck ya in your own bed. Wanted t’take’ya home with me and keep ya there— Never let you leave.”

Honey swallowed back a sob. Then why did you send me away? 

He paused. 

Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?

“Because I’m an idiot,” Peter huffed, his voice fragile. 

He leaned forward and lovingly kissed up her spine, each tender press of his lips an apology. 

“I’m a stupid fuckin’ fool.” The heat of his breath ghosted across her back. “So stupid—Thought I could protect ya if I kept you away. Thought I could somehow live like that—without you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn fool.”

Peter felt the sting of tears flooding his vision. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them out. “I can’t live without ya,” he nearly whimpered. “There is no life for me if you’re not in it.”

“Peter,” she said, feeling her heart lurch. Her spirit was a ship being tossed in a hurricane. One more wave, and she would break. Honey’s voice trembled, “St-stop t-talking—”

“Not until I’ve said what I shoulda said—!”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next five seconds—”

Peter cut her off by pulling her up by the shoulders and standing her upright. Honey fought it—because, of course, she did—desperately clutching the steel armor around her heart. 

Overpowering her again, he tugged the naked woman closer until her back lined up to his chest. It was an awkward position with her bound arms crushed behind her against his abs. He towered over her, eyeing her face from the side, seeking her gaze. Hooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. 

Always the fighter, Honey tried to wrench herself from his hold. Peter’s body was like a Greek god’s, with pillar-like arms and marble fingers keeping her from wriggling away. But his soft, soulful eyes are what pinned her in place. 

As soon as she peered into their oaken color, she was trapped again. 

“No,” she sneered, shaking her head. The tears weren’t from pleasure anymore. “Don’t—”

“‘Honey and Lavender,’” he whispered, featherlike. “Those are the words. All you gotta do is say ‘em, and I’ll stop.”

She gritted her teeth, bucking against his sweetness. His arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her in.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me!” she revolted, voice getting weaker by the second. “What the hell do you want from me, Peter?!” 

His features softened. Serenity pressed between his lips. “I want all of you, Honey,” he answered with resolve. “Body and soul. Wanna spend the rest of my life with ya. If you don’t kill me first.” 

He said the ‘if’ part with a teasing lilt in his tone and a half-smile. The same smirk that she loathed—and fell in love with. 

Honey squeezed her eyes shut. Peter’s thumb came up gently, wiping a messy tear from her cheek. That loving and pure act was worse than any torture he could inflict.

Walls tumbling down, her body loosened. She went slack against his arms, instead fighting to keep more tears from flowing.

“I love you,” he whispered, pouring his soul into each word. “Forever. Remember? No matter what.” 

Peter waited for her eyelids to peel back, revealing glossy eyes and a weary expression. They stayed still for eons. Nothing but their breaths and heartbeats between them, eyes locked on each other.

“Even if you’re mad as hell at me,” he added. “Even if you hate me—I want it all.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “And what then, Peter? What now?”

A moment passed. He leaned around her shoulder, bringing her chin close, and answered her with a kiss. Gentle at first, his tongue explored hers as she relaxed against him. She felt her toes leave the ground before she realized what was happening.

Peter broke the kiss. “Now?” he breathed into her hairline. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be mine.”

One of his hands left her torso—borrowed to push the head of his cock into her gate. An overwhelming burn erupted between her legs. She arched her back away from his abs as best she could while being split open.

Honey wailed brokenly, voice shattered, as he bottomed out. Peter’s hand instinctively came up to cover her mouth. She let the scream out into his palm, just as he’d promised.

Peter hissed, letting his head fall back in agonized ecstasy. His eyes drifted shut, feeling both relief and torment buried to the hilt in her warmth. 

He barely ground out, “Shh-shhh, s’alright... that’s it, s-so good, so good for me...”

His Honey was already writhing on his cock, and he hadn’t even begun to move. She was so goddamn tight he wasn’t sure he wanted to move at all.

Still, he couldn’t help indulging himself. Never could, around her.

The arm bracing Honey’s torso snaked back across her body. His hand, burning hotter than a branding iron, stretched out and smoothed over the curvature of her belly. Her pussy clenched tighter as his palm found the trophy he was looking for—an obscene bulge in her lower stomach.

A slow, sinful curve played upon his lips. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you.” When he uncovered her mouth, her roars had quieted down to a wanton purr. He gently tilted her head downwards so she could witness the depravity herself. “Just look at how you take my dick, Honey.” 

She shuddered at the sight, nodding rapidly, unable to speak. She wondered if this was just more teasing, but she couldn’t think beyond the penetration. 

“God, you look so beautiful like that,” he muttered breathlessly. His amber eyes were fixated on the sinful spectacle beneath her waist, unable to avert his gaze. “So pretty with my cock stuffed up inside your tummy...” 

Peter sounded unhinged, even to himself. His abs twisted into knots. Vile, perverse images eclipsed his sense of decency—her body naked and wrecked, with his seed spilling from her holes. Then, her belly round with his children. Just the thought devolved him like his civilized nature was sucked back into a black hole.

Wordless whimpers poured from her lips as her taut muscles succumbed to his girth. Calloused fingertips reached further down, brushing against the hood of her clit. She jolted in his arms with the slightest touch.

At that moment, Honey’s world disappeared. Nothing existed but the exquisite ache between her legs. 

The conquerer inside him preened. “Is that the spot? Is that where it hurts, baby?” he purred into her ear with a filthy, predatory voice. Her body answered him, rewarding him with a delicious squeeze around his shaft. “That’s it,” Peter groaned, insatiable. “Good girl. So good for me.” 

His praise, even if it was teasing, was too much. Peter’s affirmations, paired with his ministrations, tightened the coil in her stomach. Exhaustion crept up on her body even as the bubble of desire swelled.

Ever so slowly, his hips pitched back and then forward. He bottomed out again at the end of the languid stroke. A shattered mewl burst from her lips, pussy pulsating around his dick.

She was magnificent. 

”Fuck, baby. Feels s-so fuckin’ good—ahh, I missed this tight pussy so much. Wanted to play with her so bad…”

Peter’s hips moved of their own accord. They were a pornographic masterpiece in the decorative mirrors situated around the room. He stole a greedy glance at the couple’s reflection. Smiling wickedly, he turned her head, making her see what he was seeing.

Honey’s stomach fluttered at the sight of her body—glistening and restrained—slotted against him. Her head bobbed as Peter gripped her hips and fucked into her like a sex doll. 

Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.

Slowly, he increased the pace of his thrusts, panting into her ear. At some point, she started muttering. Broken and embarrassingly desperate pleas and pet names tumbled unwittingly out of her mouth.

One of them must have caught his attention. But she honestly couldn’t remember what she had said.

“Ugh—I lose my fuckin’ mind when you call me that name,” he growled, throwing his head back. “Ya know that, precious? Such a good girl for me. Good girls get spoiled.” 

Honey’s body thrummed at his baby talk. In all its depravity, she started to suspect what she must have said in all its depravity. Slowly, she was losing the ability to be ashamed.

The slick-coated pad of Peter’s thumb circled her clit, before traveling down further. He curiously prodded where they were joined—“Fuck, look at how good ya open up for me.” — His fingers trailed the outline of her stretched hymen wrapped around his cock.

Honey closed her eyes and turned away, blushing from his praise. Timid about how she relished in the filth. Peter brought his lips to her ear as if there was a secret the two of them shared.

“Don’t worry, baby. I gotcha—Daddy’s gonna make the ache go away.”

The spring snapped. She was nearly knocked over by the wave of pleasure that followed. Her pussy fluttered around his cock with no warning, body trembling and toes curling. Her cream gushed down his shaft. 

He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 

Honey could vaguely recognize her pathetic voice through the bells in her ears. She squealed and cried out over his repetitive, patronizing chants — “Awwgoodgirl, fuckin’ so-so perfect— squeezin’ me so tight” — while he fucked her through her orgasm.

It felt like several moments of pure pink haze, herself a willing victim to his delicious, relentless pull. 

“Shit, sweetie, did you just come all over my cock?” he asked, exasperated.

Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 

“Don’t cry, baby. Don’chu worry,” he murmured affectionately, himself obsessed with the cavern of her divine flesh. “When I said I was gonna make you my toy, I meant it.” She whimpered, nodding her head as it rested back against his shoulder. “M’not finished with you,” he said, dropping an octave. “Not by a long shot.”

Time ceased to have true meaning. Peter rammed into her steadily.

“Please don’stop, please use me, please, wan’more—” She yelped like a puppy.

He smiled against her sweaty skin. “Yeah? Ya like bein’ a good girl? My good girl?”

“I’llbegoodI’llbegoodm’yours—fuck—yoursyoursyours—”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned, with another curse beneath his breath. Eyes drifted shut. “Good, good girl.”

All he could think of was more. 

More of that sound. More of her juices. More of her staccato breaths as he fucked her tits into a steady bounce on her chest. More of her whining, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

“All mine, all mine…”

Peter needed more of her. He needed to watch her fall apart on his cock again. Honey was so close already; he could feel it. He’d give her another orgasm, one that leaves her in tears. Then another. He was going to fuck her into submission atop the throne he built for her. She was already his queen. 

Then—He’d make her his whore.

Flip her on her back against the table—or couch— countertop—fuck, maybe the bed if he could remember where it was. Whatever he could reach first. 

Then he’d split her open again on his cock. That way, he could see the enraptured awe on her face. The neediness. Big, round, wet eyes pleading for his touch, calling him filthy names, as his cock bulges below her pubic bone. Begging him to rearrange her guts.

It was heavenly to witness. Peter loved watching her come. And he would, over and over. Once he relocated her to his bed—as soon as he remembered where it was— he could tie her to it.

Not that Honey was fighting at the present. There was no fight in her body, except maybe the will to keep conscious. With every strike against her cervix, she spread herself wider for him. 

But Peter knew she would like it. Honey wanted his unforgiving ecstasy. To take out the mounting frustration of the last few months on her wet pussy. 

“M’gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, m’gonna use your body like my fucktoy—make me feel s-sogood, don’worry—“ 

Honey full-body shuddered with a sob, her head thrown back against his shoulder. 

“S’okay, baby, you can scream if y’want, makes it feel better, doesn’t it, huh—”

Cock-drunk, she nodded, her words coming out as puffs of air.

“Don’stop—don’stop—please, fuck— fuckmehardDaddyIneedit—“

Oh. 

More. Of. That.

“M’not lettin’ you get away again…” he muttered, voice emerging from beneath his twitching abdominal muscles. With possessed eyes, he was glued to where they joined. “Never—never gonna let you go again… All mine now, Honey—you’re all mine…”

Her arms came up to circle the back of his neck as she panted into his throat. “My-my pussy is yours…”

“Everything,” he corrected.

“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”

Peter was getting close. No matter. He’d let himself come inside her soon. There was plenty more to follow. 

He barely recognized his own wrecked voice. “’m not leavin,’ baby. I’m not leavin’ ever.”

A gust of wind followed him as the front door to the suite slammed shut. Peter stood alone in the hotel hallway wearing a sheen of sweat... and nothing else. 

He flushed pink, fumbling to cover himself behind his hands. The cool air made the task easier.

Peter sighed. He’d need to talk to maintenance about better insulation up here.

But not right now. Not while Peter Parker stood ass-naked outside of his door, having been kicked out like a cheap fuck. 

Which might have been Honey’s point, he recognized.

The evidence of their past hour together made his skin sticky. She’d tousled his hair and etched into his back with her nails. He felt sore in places he hadn’t felt in years.

Peter also looked thoroughly fucked. A mixture of pain and relief surged through his muscles. His brain was branded with erotic images of her. He wanted them there.

The door opened again, lifting his hopes. He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Honey, wrapped sloppily in a bathrobe. The rest of her didn’t look much better than Peter. She wore a sour yet adorable scowl on her face.

With a huff, Honey hurled a tight wad of fabric at his nuts, unintentionally intentional in her aim. 

Peter oofed, doubling over to catch the ball of his clothes. At the same time, an Italian leather shoe smacked him in the head. Probably his Tom Ford’s. He heard the door slam closed again, rattling against the frame.

Perplexed, Peter gazed at the molding of the door and the gleaming golden script marking the room number. 

He wondered. 

Would she open the door again to throw him the other shoe? 

Or perhaps the slacks that went along with the dress shirt covering his balls?

Unlikely.

He marveled. 

The nerve of this woman. This goddess-barista who served him his soul in a paper cup. Who held the keys to his heart, his home, and presently, his hotel room. Who somehow managed to kick him out of the penthouse suite of his own hotel. 

Within the confines of his ruined dress shirt, Peter felt another buzz. He fumbled with the shirt, reaching the smartphone concealed inside.

>>> have you moved onto the main course? >>> or are you still tossing the salad? >>> pouring ranch on her hidden valley

Felicia. Peter’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. With a sigh, he tapped out a reply.

<<<  Kitchen’s closed.  <<< Need clothes. And a new room.

He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 

<<< Not another word.

As soon as the message was sent, Peter took another glance at his empty surroundings. Haplessly, he looked toward the closed door. A river of memories flooded him. It surged, swelled, and finally, came to a low simmer.

This was never going to be easy. Nothing ever was with her.

Nothing worth waiting for ever is.

“See you at breakfast,” he whispered aloud lips curled into a smile. “Sleep tight.”

Holding her breath and her ear to the door, Honey waited until Peter’s footsteps faded. When she could no longer hear them, she sighed with exasperation, overcome with exhaustion. Eyes falling closed, Honey leaned back against the door, body aching in places she would feel for days.

After taking a moment, she heard a buzzing sound further in the suite. Honey jumped with alarm, then stumbled on Fawn’s feet to reach the source.

Quickly, Honey waddled to the remains of her yellow dress, fishing out the buzzing object: a 10-year-old smartphone with a black glittery hard case. A holographic cat sticker was fixed to the back, shimmering in the dim light. 

Not just any cat.

She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.

>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?

The heaviest exhale left Honey’s chest, shame creeping up her chest. With her thumb, she scrolled up to review the text messages sent to her. The oldest of which dated back almost four months.

Weeks of correspondence and reassurance from Felicia, not to mention very clear instructions about Peter Parker and how to play his game. 

There was the one from last month:

>>> don’t let him think for one second that you’re gonna let him get off easy!

Then one from last week:

>>> make him suffer. make him grovel. make him lay down in a puddle so you can cross

And these:

>>> go to dinner, but don’t eat anything. order wine, the most expensive one, take one sip and refuse the rest. you pick the restaurant. if he picks the restaurant, hate everything about it >>> play hard to get— but don’t be too cold >>> be flirty. but not slutty.  >>> give him bedroom eyes, but don’t let him stare at you too long.

Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.

>>> under no circumstances >>> no matter what >>> you need to remember this >>> DO NOT FUCK HIM!!1

Honey frowned as she gazed at Felicia’s text message bubble, sent with so much hope and good intention. A notion soundly defeated. A truly hopeless endeavor, if there ever was one.

Biting her lip, Honey tapped out a reply to her confidant:

<<< Sure did.

Thank you for everything you do. Please keep fanfic healthy and support my writing with a reblog.

[positivlyfocused]

My Occult, “Supernatural” Experiences Are Getting Amazing And Cool!

I know I’ve been writing a lot recently about my “supernatural” experiences. But I must continue doing so for the time being. Everything I’ve read from others’ experiences my experiences confirm. My experiences also confirm everything Abraham and Seth told me. Whether in my private conversations with them, or in their written content, they’ve been spot on. My latest experiences are no exception.

Of course, these “paranormal” experiences are not “supernatural”, “paranormal” nor even “pseudoscientific”. They stand apart from science. That’s because science has no business in this realm since it doesn’t recognize nonphysical origins of all matter. As far as the other two adjectives, they don’t apply either. Phenomena I enjoy are as normal and natural as breathing.

But experiencing them requires releasing mainstream conditioning. It requires allowing our natural abilities to surface. Everyone enjoys what I’m finding. However, these experiences happen beneath waking consciousness. In sleep they’re even more active. When we wake the next morning, however, ego consciousness blocks them. Seth says that’s because ego consciousness sees little value in them. That is, until we tell our egos they are of value.

How to talk with the ego and have the ego listen makes up part of the Positively Focused practice.The practice also includes learning how to release mainstream conditioning. As with any natural ability, skillful employment comes gradually. Plenty evidence shows up along the way, however, making the journey delightful and surprising.

I’m still on that journey. It’s never ending. I know what I now experience is just the beginning. 

We can create anything we want

Developing such abilities has practical value. Abraham and Seth say unequivocally: we create our realities. Abraham says “whatever you can conceive of as a thought, can be your reality.”

Think about that. Anything we can think of can be. 

I used to be a working stiff. I didn’t think I could “make a living” doing something I loved. Oh, I loved what I used to do. But that “love” was mainstream conditioning. What I really wanted was to just live and enjoy life. I wanted to do nothing. I wanted to pursue my spiritual passions. Pursue my passion without working a job.

Well, it was gradual, but today that’s what I do. My client load is enough to cover my expenses. One client recently observed that my client work must not feel like work. She’s right. It doesn’t really. It’s just an amplification of my passion. And, working with clients is a bridge to eventually creating large amounts of money at will. Just as my bridging job was the bridge to what I’m doing now.

Ultimately I’m creating a reality where money becomes just another manifestation of my will. Given what I’m experiencing now, which, again, confirms all Abraham and Seth told me, I know money just becoming another manifestation is happening too.

What can be more practical than that? What can be more practical than creating lives for ourselves? Lives on our own terms, according to our dreams? Not “wildest dreams” because no dream is too wild as to not become realized. Not when one taps into their Broader Perspective. 

More fabulous experiences lie ahead. I’m eager for them all. For now, let’s look at the latest two from this month.

^^A spiritual life can make anything we desire a reality. (Photo by Omid Armin)

Moving into alternate dimensions

As one soothes beliefs causing ego to focus solely in this physical reality, the ultimate reality reveals itself. The “ultimate reality” is nonphysical, where we exist as expanding gods taking on many forms. Yes, we are human. But we are far more than that. We are aware-ized energy creating infinite alternate dimensions. As we create them, we simultaneously expand ourselves into them. Alternate versions of us then populate and explore them, just as we, here, explore this one.

In this way, we are everywhere at once. But our human ego mesmerizes us exclusively into this reality. It will do that until we die, unless we choose a different path. That different path becomes available the moment one begins realizing they’re more than a human in a body. With proper guidance, one gradually begins expanding their consciousness. That expansion makes one aware of the ultimate reality.

What one perceives from there depends on the individual. My initial experiences are “flashes” of awareness in the many dimensions I’m creating. They started as single flashes, but now I have many in one sitting. Here’s an example. In it, I experienced more than 10 projections in one 30-minute session:

^^(above) Initial notes leading to detail recap of my projections (below)

Some however are full-on immersions. Immersions where I’m exploring a single dimension for some time. For now, it’s only a few moments, perhaps a minute or two. But it’s longer than “flashes”. Like this example below:

This is the Charmed Life

I know many more abilities lie ahead on my journey. Some things I’m heading towards would boggle ordinary people’s minds. But I know, given what’s happening these days, that those experiences are just as possible. Hell, just a few years ago, I thought visiting alternate dimensions was a pipe dream. Let alone visiting multiple alternate dimensions in a 30 minute period!

This is what I call the Charmed Life. It’s a life lived on my own terms. But more than that. It is a life where my dreams become real. As they should be, because we’re meant to turn our thoughts into things. I’m living my life, where my thoughts and dreams become my reality. And the more I get, the more bold I become.

I also want others to live their Charmed Life. That’s why I offer what I offer.

I’m heading toward an increasing extraordinary life. Along the way, my life is becoming even more delightful as dreams become self-fulfilling. Self-fulfilled dreams prompt wonder and joy, the Charmed Life that is my life. Everyone can enjoy their version of that, including you. You are a god in human form, after all. Why not create your own?

[nickblaine]

On a scale from 1 to 10, how good were the first two episodes? Were they in line with the spoilers? How cringey were Luke and June?

I value your opinion a lot and I can’t watch the episodes yet.

episode 1 as a whole: 3/10 nick scenes: 7/10

episode 2 as a whole: 5/10 nick scenes: 9/10

i'll do a spoilery little review for Nick fans under the cut.

there is only one Nick scene in episode 1 and it's the scene with Rose. so if you want to stop watching after that scene you won't miss anything lol

Nick's interactions with Rose are guarded and there is tons of subtext written in his facial expressions. Rose is adorably genuine and cares about him a lot. she's even got his coffee order down. but she's not June and you can tell Nick is thinking exactly that.

he's also got a cute white picket fence house that i loved getting a glimpse of. in a sense he's got it all - he's come a long way from being a poor kid from Michigan. but there's an underlying unhappiness there that reads all over his face.

episode 2 had a lot more Nick and he was superb in every moment!

Commander Blaine has become really confident in his role on the council. he's working on reformation and earnestly trying on the Gilead shoes for the first time, as Max aptly described. i realize a lot of people are anxious (including me) to see Super Rebel Spy Nick defect and burn everything down, but he's not there yet. you can tell he doesn't believe the system can be abolished and that's very pragmatic of him - also very on point for someone who was a victim of poverty. instead Nick's making genuine attempts at reshaping the system, with Joe as his wingman. i think i will enjoy watching it, even though reformation will ultimately be a lost cause and - as Max said - he'll realize the Gilead shoes don't fit.

the scene with Tuello delivers the vulnerable Nick we were all looking for. Nick asks how June and Holly are doing right off the bat. you can tell the writers wanted to highlight the connection he has to his daughter and keep that in the forefront of the audience's minds.

Tuello essentially offers defection with immunity. you can see Nick is thinking about it. there's a closeup on his eyes and you can practically see his longing for a life with June and Holly in them. he doesn't take the deal, but he says "I'll remember that." i think this whole scene is a chekov's gun and (hopefully) the most important foreshadowing of Nick's storyline this season.

the funeral scene is boring and honestly you can fast forward through it. i did think it was interesting when June first saw Nick on the TV and her face changed a bit, like she was shocked to see him and simultaneously nervous for him.

overall if the Nick content continues this way through the season i'm going to be pretty satisfied. i don't think spoilers do this show justice at all, especially with his scenes. Max says a million things with a facial expression that can't be captured in bullet points.

as for Luke and June, their scenes were chock full of bad omens. one thing i found VERY interesting was that there were a few weird, forced Osblaine parallels - but there was something just so wrong about Luke and June's version of them. for example, at one point Luke says they can run away to Hawaii, just the three of them. (in the moment it made me want to throw a chair at the TV, but i digress.) it was obviously a direct parallel to Osblaine except June doesn't even pause to entertain the idea, just dismisses it immediately. while Osblaine's Hawaii conversation felt like a true moment of yearning between them, this Hawaii conversation felt like Luke's desperation on full display and June was not interested. as angry as it made me to hear the word Hawaii come out of Luke's mouth, i can't stop thinking about the implications of the writers' choice to compare the two relationships and show how much it doesn't work on Luke's side.

as of right now i'm more confident than ever that we're watching the breakdown of their relationship. yes Luke is annoying but i think it just highlights how wrong he is for her more than anything. there's a moment at the end of episode 2 where June forgets about Gilead for 5 minutes and their relationship starts to look normal again. but then Gilead comes back to her and it's gone. i realize we're in for a long ride with them this season but i think this is going to be their ultimate undoing.