#tea burn real review

[kittenintheden]

BG3 Fics & Drabbles Masterlist

thought I should probably start a masterlist. it's mostly being horny on main for Astarion lbr.

~clicky for art thou nasty etc.~

One-Shots

Where were you, when I was new? - 18+, Pre-Canon, Virgin Astarion, Law Student Astarion (plus bonus gift art by tavplum!!)

No Thoughts, Just Vibes - 18+, Post-Canon, Spawn!Starion, sex toys, holiday fluff

Closer to God - 18+, breeding kink, sex pollen-ish (everyone aware/consenting, just big horny), heat/mating, rough sex, but also tender sex

Professionals - 18+, roleplay, sex work, biting, blood drinking, oral sex, PIV sex

You Can Read Me Anything Part 1 | Part 2 - 18+, innocent Tav, illiterate Tav, secondhand smut via fake bodice ripper, first time oral, retell of the forest clearing scene, Astarion playing himself

Ethics Review - 18+, magistrate roleplay, post-canon, light BDSM, spanking, orgasm denial, dirty talk, light edgeplay, oral sex, PIV sex

How could I say no? - 18+, dirty talk, established relationship, AFAB F!Tav (3rd person), sexy kisses, teasing, orgasm delay, analingus

Poker Face Real Version | April Fool's Version - 18+, gender neutral Tav, quickie, semi-public sex, sex in a closet (sort of), wall sex, blowjob, penetration

Right Side of My Neck - 18+, female OC, oral sex, PIV sex, mirror sex, stoned sex, Ori and Astarion get high and Astarion gets the weed hornies

how to train your brat - 18+, future NYS sneak peek, Ori bratting, Astarion brat-taming, light BDSM elements, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, light spanking, blowjob, PIV sex, the dorks being complete menaces

how to lose your mind - 18+, future NYS content, Astarion gets lovingly pegged until he's nonverbal, strap-on, anal, p-spot orgasm, multiple orgasms (male), established relationship, handjob, facesitting, oral sex, get loved losers etc.

hit the bricks - 18+, Oristarion, semi-public sex, wall sex, quickie, established relationship, tiny bit of Ori being a power bottom

I Slit the Throat of Your Confidence - 18+, Lae'zel/Astarion, hatesex-ish, fighting kink, blood kink, blood drinking, rough sex, rough oral, fingerfucking, PIV sex, orgasm denial, impact play, feral cats matching energy

When I Think About You - 18+, Astarion/Reader (You), masturbation, mutual masturbation (sort of), voyeurism, pillow humping, Astarion playing himself once again because I have a type and that type is simp in denial

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Drabbles (under 1k)

Sip the Tea - 18+, temperature play, blowjob

Devil Inside - 18+, Haarlep being an asshole, Astarion making it better

music to my ears - 18+, eargasm, ASMR, touchless orgasm, creaming pants

Mirror Image - 18+, oral sex, 69 position

Let Go - 18+, fluffy, gentle sex, disgustingly in love about it

Before Morning's Light - 18+, fluff, comfort after nightmare of the needy nighttime quickie persuasion

we're going down - 18+, Astarion/reader, cunnilingus

Here for Wyllstravaganza? Find all the Wyll Ravengard goodness here!

People send me Ask Box prompts sometimes - you can find all those here!

-

Long Fic

Not Your Sweetheart (AO3) - 18CHA bard Orianna vs 10CHA dumbass rogue vampire, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, absurd amount of zingers & hijinks

It's Always Sunny in Nine Hills (AO3) - it's the crew we all know and love but they're modern-day dirtbag losers who live and work at a beach with big SoCal vibes

NYS Spotify Playlist - The playlist that accompanies Not Your Sweetheart, updated every chapter <3

Masterpost of Ori Art - The non-spoilery art I have of Ori (and Astarion, occasionally), with all artists linked

Header art of Ori by Freya

Icon art by @hamrikaa

[coire-non]

madatobi wip

i call this scene "madara and tobirama having the most hideous morning after vibes they can possibly create" -

If Hashirama knew where Tobirama was at this very moment, whose bed he sleeps in, he’d have to consider taking a long trip outside the village.

Hashirama would… It hits him, unnervingly, that he’s not sure what Hashirama would do.

He’s always been Izuna’s nii-san. Half-raised him, carried him on his shoulders, cut his hair and taught him kenjutsu until the day Izuna outstripped him with the sword. He’s never heard Tobirama call Hashirama anything other than anija. Vaguely, he knows that the Senju heir and spare were kept apart as children to prevent an easier and more devastating assassination. That Tobirama cared for their younger siblings, and somewhere after their deaths a bridge between brothers was lost. There’s love there, but not much understanding. 

Would Hashirama understand this?  Uncomfortably, he admits that if he knew a man had put Izuna to his knees and done half of the things he himself has done to Tobirama, he’d kill him. Burn his cock off and crush his throat with his hands and kick the remains off Hokage Mountain to splatter in the street. 

“Forgive my intrusion.”

He blinks, and lowers the pipe.

“Morning.” Tobirama stands in the doorway between corridor and kitchen, green yukata belted tight and haori drawn up around his shoulders. His hair has been reasonably tamed by his fingers - but the bruise under his jaw betrays his composure and how he’s spent his night. In Madara’s imagination, he runs his finger along the flat collar of Tobirama’s clothes, dips down under it to the heat of his skin along his jugular.

It would be a more seductive picture if he didn’t look so severe. He left soft, warm Tobirama in his bed and found this stiff, formal shinobi in his kitchen before he could even finish his pipe. This is always the part he’s bad at. Where he’s too sober to move on simple, stupid instinct, and too protective of his own private space to play host. It’s not that he doesn’t want to share this morning with the man whose legs he spread open last night - but that nothing about it comes easy. Tobirama doesn’t help, either. Standing there, waiting and cold in a way that sets Madara’s teeth on edge. He makes a strong attempt. “There’s tea on the irori. You could have a cup with me.” People raised the way Tobirama was don’t fidget. The way he plucks at his own sleeve must be a thoughtless habit born of a perfectionist nature. Yes. That sounds more right.  “I…ought to attend to the hospital recruitment meeting. The proposed heads of department have to be reviewed.” “You’re hardly fit for that.” Tobirama stops picking. His voice is very level. “There is nobody else to take this task on.”

He gets the sense that he’s quite seriously insulted Tobirama. Replaying his words, he sees it, winces, and tries to think of how he can explain himself. That he meant Tobirama must have a splitting headache after last night and needs rest, not that he’s - not that he isn’t good enough, damn it. That he’s not capable, after doing all the real labour of building Hashirama’s fantasy village.

“I must decline your offer,” Tobirama says stiffly. “Thank you, Uchiha-san.”

Shame catches his gut like a fishhook. “Senju -”

The door slides shut hard enough to shake dust from the rafters.

He takes a long breath, and blows out the smoke forcefully.

[supermarketcaferankings]

Morrison's Café, Morley, UK

Let us introduce ourselves. We are Frances and Sharon, two friends with one burning question: why are there so many reviews of fancy, expensive restaurants and nothing for the supermarket café, adored by, and accessible to, the common man? We have made it our mission in life to visit as many supermarket cafés as the bus services will allow, because what is more important than being the change you wish to see in the world?

Today we have come to the Morrison's café in Morley, with our friend, [REDACTED].

What Frances had: Hot chocolate and biscoff cheesecake (£4)

What Sharon had: Pot of tea and Victoria sponge cake (£4)

What [REDACTED] had: Oasis (£2) and sausage, egg, chips and beans (£6.50)

Vibes: 4/5 ⭐

The café is hidden away from the rest of the supermarket which leaves an atmosphere distinctly different from that of most supermarket cafés. We sat in a comfortable booth. It was lively yet pleasant, with a wide range of ages visiting today (very family friendly). The wall decor had a pleasant variety of ambiguous text, but sadly no photos of food, and very nice lighting fixtures. There was also poor phone signal, for which a star is lost. The booth did have the store manager's email address asking for feedback which was unique but not unwelcome.

Service: 2/5 ⭐

It's hard to give a ranking for service at a café which is mostly self service, although there is hot food brought to your table if you order it. Ordering is done via a self service machine, and cold food, snacks and drinks can then be taken from a counter. Frances and I did wonder if this system is open to abuse, but perhaps Morley is above such things. There are two self service hot drinks machines, one of which was out of hot chocolate. The hot food took around 20 minutes to arrive, but staff were friendly, and generous with ketchup sachets. The café gains extra points because when we asked to confirm if we could just take what we'd ordered from the counter, we were happily informed that drinks had free refills. A cheap day out!

Quality: 3/5 ⭐

The cakes were nice, although we suspect not made on site. Sharon would have preferred an option for real sugar as well as just sweeteners, and the tea was Tetley's and not the far superior Yorkshire Tea. Frances agreed that the hot chocolate was fine. For the hot food, the eggs, chips and beans were decent, but the sausages were the highlight, with [REDACTED] commenting that they reminded him of his childhood.

Price: 3/5 ⭐

[REDACTED] believes that £2 for an Oasis was "egregious", however unlimited hot drinks and a cake for £4 is very reasonable indeed. Perhaps [REDACTED] should have got a hot drink too.

Finally, we come to our last, yet most important, criteria: would we propose to the love of our life in this café?

We think no. As a busier café, your words of tender love may get lost in the background hum. Also, we suspect that if you proposed in this particular supermarket café, the locals would just stare, and that's just not the reaction you want to start the rest of your life with.

Overall rating: ⭐⭐⭐

Average rating for Morrison's cafés: ⭐⭐⭐

[forthegothicheroine]

Best Fragrantica reviews of (some of) my favorite perfumes, Part II

First installment here

Maison Martin Margiela By the Fireplace

Careful not to be worn by this perfume instead of being you the wearer. Not that it is oh so powerful, but it may be too bold of a statement piece for, ahem, some. Wearing BTF when you don't look the part and don't give it sense will have you smelling borderline unhealthy. Like your organs inside have worn off and darkened (and burned out, I guess). Truly as weird as it sounds. The raw thing smells very exciting. I love it ashy. I don't see myself daring any soon, however. And I don't find that it worked for the men I know either, as they have (and I cringe to say) whiter auras and don't fit the "handling cognac by the fire" thing. So I've yet to see it really work, which I'm sure will be great. It's a lovely perfume.

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Bewitched

This is the smell of a witch's brew. She made a special tea for you to drink. You pass out. When you awaken you find yourself in her garden full of poisonous berries, patchouli, weeds, clary sage, and flowers whose petals have been plucked. This is an herbal scent, like walking inside a shop selling only herbs. It's medicinal and like a tea. Not always easy to take in...The smell of sage and musk give it a unisex/masculine quality. I would say that it's more of a guy's type of cologne than a woman's. I would wear it for Halloween with a witch costume or as Morticia Addams. It's really a very engaging scent but it's linear and simple. It's a little green tea and berry. It's got a bite but it's witchy and dark, but not a strong cologne either. For a niche indie frag, not bad.

TokyoMilk Gin & Rosewater

I was in a boutique that carries the Tokyo Milk Curiosite & Bon Bon lines, and I was entranced by this. Florals are not usually my thing, by the way, because I get monster headaches from most of them. Suddenly the salesgirl is RIGHT NEXT TO ME leaning in conspiratorially and says in an awed tone that 'Blake Lively LOVES this one'. OMFG, Blake Lively, you say??!? Like for serious, the real Blake Lively?? OMFG, do you have like, more in the back?!? I'm totally going to buy every bottle you can shove in my basket because BLAKE LIVELY would hang out with me if we ran into each other and then my life could end. Um, not. I almost DIDN'T buy it because of the salesgirls then going into a tizzy about how amazing Blake is. I could not care less, although I'm sure Lively is nice enough. But it did smell cool, so home with me it came, along with the matching lotion.

Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin

It’s an overwhelming fragrance that smells like the bottom of my grandma’s small square leather purse when we went to mass (her old dried up lipstick💄 the powder compact, the newspaper, the pack of strawberry-ish scented kleenex, the peppermints). It’s vintage, it’s a bit suffocating and I have it printed in my memory 4 ever.

Juliette Has a Gun Magnolia Bliss

Anastasia Steele, no longer a virgin. In her Audi A3, the smell of her new car, first edition books and a new life... That's what comes into mind with this perfume. The night Christian took her for the first time on his helicopter. I can imagine this is exactly what she smelled like that night. With Ellie Goulding's Love me like you do playing in the background. 

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540

I’m too embarrassed and ashamed to wear this in public just in case a fragrantica influencer comes out of a bush and starts pointing & laughing at me in front of everyone

Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille

what all the hot daddies in every lana del rey song smell like

Jo Malone Velvet Rose & Oud

If your family was religious, traditionally Asian, or both, you'll know this scent. This is the scent of a temple. This is the scent of an altar. Personally I can never wear this because smelling this brings back so many memories of burning incenses, visiting funerals, and saying prayers and wishes. My bottle is literally sitting on an altar.

Perfumer's Workshop Tea Rose

Speaking of the devil. This scent is the one with the Prada's shoes.

4160 Tuesdays Doe in the Snow

This is borne on a Christmas Eve, under the moonlight, a baby fawn just out of it's mother's womb. The moon is full light casting blue shadows snow lightly falling delicate flakes each one unique on the nose of the new born... Pure fresh Christmas morning air stillness not a sound blanketed with drifts of snow that is Doe In The Snow... pure white innocence...velvet petals so delicate under the driven snow...I have seen this in a dream... Another love... I get it...

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 2 Watanagashi pt. Final

Guess this is all tied up in a neat little package.

Ah man, so much for everything being tied up nice and neat.

I miss the simple days of when murder victims, and the dead killers stayed dead. It's like a bad horror series where they have to contrive reasons for why and how Michael Myers survived being locked in a burning building with no avenue for escape. "He survived because he hid where the guns are hidden." Bullshit, I don't think hiding in an impromptu oven will stop you from being cooked to death. Maybe the dead Mion and dead Takano are also friends with the writer and convinced him to spare their lives for a smidge.

There's a quote from an old crime writer named Mickey Spillane. "Nobody reads a mystery to get to the middle. They read it to get to the end. If it's a letdown, they won't buy any more. The first page sells that book. The last page sells your next book." You might think this is a jab at Ryukishi07, but I like to think that he's heard this quote and has ingrained it in his soul. Come to think of it I'm pretty sure a lot of writers use this trick, even if they don't like to admit it. The mystery of how people who were apparently dead days before their corpses were found is an intriguing mystery. Now, of course this isn't the end of the chapter, but it's close enough.

It is a pretty good joke, shame Mion didn't see the comedy in it. Also it's tragic that the two were attacked and lost their faces. So how much of this was actually real do you think? I'm going to guess everything after the stabbing is all in Keiichi's mind and he did die of his stab wound. You don't twist the knife if you don't mean to make sure your victim is absolutely dead. I'm not a huge fan of the "everything was just the main character's dying dream" trope because I generally feel that's just people interacting with the book/game/VN/whatever at the absolute laziest possible level.

But this can't be real, up until this point ghosts haven't existed in the narrative at all. Not even as a one-off casual mention. I suppose you could argue that spirits exist because of the notion the god Oyashiro exists, and demons, but that could just as easily be counter-argued with the explanation these are just fairy tales.

I have a backup theory. My main bet is everything post stabbing is entirely in Keiichi's head, and he died from the wound. But the alternate theory I have is that everything up until Ooishi left happened, and that's when Keiichi died. His wounded body couldn't handle the mental strain of being told Mion, Shion, and everyone else had died, and as such it simply gave up. Which is extremely bad luck for Ooishi, that the last witness of the entire Sonozaki/Watanagashi Incident died shortly after he saw him. Which I guess would kind of make Ooishi the grim reaper.

I enjoyed it a lot better than Onikakushi. It was much more intriguing of a read.

Rika, just vibrating with fury.

Sorry Satoko, I'm pretty sure everyone's gonna be put through the wringer before all's said and done.

Ah, they have fun.

No.

Anyway, I do have a question, please feel free to answer it, but be mindful not to spoil please. Should I bother reading these All Cast Review Sessions? Do they actually contribute to the overall narrative? Or is it just a decompressing lighthearted discussion about the chapter? Would I lose anything if I just jumped directly from the end of say Chapter 3: Tatarigoroshi and went in immediately to Chapter 4: Himatsubushi? Basically, I'm wondering if these Review Sessions are like the Tea Party segments from Umineko, and will add large amounts of plot details to the overall narrative.

I ask this like it'll make a difference, I know myself well enough that I'm just going to read them regardless. Still, I'm curious.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

Insta | Storygraph | Literal | Goodreads

🦇 This Is How You Lose the Time War Book Review

❓ #QOTD If you could travel to any time or place, where would you go? ❓ 🦇 Among the ashes of a dying world, an agent of the Commandant finds a letter. It reads: Burn before reading. Thus begins an unlikely correspondence between two rival agents hellbent on securing the best possible future for their warring factions. Red belongs to the Agency, a post-singularity technotopia. Blue belongs to Garden, a single vast consciousness embedded in all organic matter. They have nothing in common, save that they're both the best, and they're alone.

🦇 What began as a taunt, a battlefield boast, grows into something more. Something epic. Something romantic. Something that could change the past and the future. Except the discovery of their bond would mean death for each of them. There's still a war going on, after all. And someone has to win that war.

💜 This novella burrowed soft seedlings deep within my bloodstream, sprouted saplings that tangled my mind in a war waged on time, and left me blossoming, tears brimming in my eyes. Red and Blue's slow burn, sapphic romance is compelling, imaginative, dizzying, and disastrous; a beautiful collaboration I hope will breed many more. Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone ensnare you from the first page; their prose takes root DEEP and stays. I'll be nursing this book hangover for a while yet. Once Red and Blue are mentally (and in some ways, physically) intertwined, they bloom purple, their dueling prose uniting into a timeless, ethereal poetry. No real world could contain this story, but the pages of this book did well to contain their love. It's difficult to say more without spoiling the story's potency. No review I could write, even given a thousand threads or lives, would do it justice.

💙 I've made a mess of highlighting this one, each line lending to the next. However, I will say there are some references that left me unable to fully appreciate a well-written line (my own problem, really). I would have appreciated more information about the time war, the Agency, and the Garden, but it's not really necessary when the story's true focus is the blossoming rivals-to-lovers slow burn romance between our protagonists.

🦇 Recommended for fans of Killing Eve (imagine them as time-traveling pen pals and you have Red and Blue's story).

✨ The Vibes ✨ ❤️ Time Travel 💙 Sapphic Romance ❤️ Steven Universe Vibes 💙 Sci-Fi ❤️ Rivals to Lovers 💙 Slow Burn ❤️ Poetic Prose

💬 Quotes ❝ There’s a kind of time travel in letters, isn’t there? ❞ ❝ I want to be a body for you. I want to chase you, find you, I want to be eluded and teased and adored; I want to be defeated and victorious—I want you to cut me, sharpen me. I want to drink tea beside you in ten years or a thousand. ❞ ❝ Listen to me—I am your echo. I would rather break the world than lose you. ❞ ❝ I have built a you within me, or you have. I wonder what of me there is in you. ❞ ❝ I love you. If you’ve come this far, that’s all I can say. I love you and Iove you and I love you, on battlefields, in shadows, in fading ink, on cold ice splashed with the blood of seals. In the rings of trees. In the wreckage of a planet crumbling to space. In bubbling water. In bee stings and dragonfly wings, in stars. In the depths of lonely woods where I wandered in my youth, staring up—and even then you watched me. You slid back through my life, and I have known you since before I knew you. ❞ ❝ Dearest, deepest Blue— At the end as at the start, and through all the in-betweens, I love you. ❞ ❝ “Some things matter more than winning.” ❞

[visionarycommunitynetwork]

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[healthyglamessence]

Java Burn: Sip Your Way to a Healthier, Slimmer You

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[babywchronicles]

Review: The Witch-Crafting Handbook

To be honest, I feel like I don't have a lot to say (though it won’t seem like it) about The Witch-Crafting Handbook by Helena Garcia. It was a little underwhelming, not at all what I expected, and feels like it doesn't quite belong in the 133.4 Dewey Decimal call number on the spine (forgive me, I work in a library).

This book is fun in a DIY sense, but didn't have much else going for it otherwise, even if it wanted to appear like it did in places. More under the cut.

So, when I picked up all my books for this batch of reviews, I wanted to get things that were really appropriate for what I wanted: more information about being a witch, witchcraft in general, and how best to proceed with my witch journey. In short, this is not one of the books that will help me with that. Perhaps it was the fact I assumed it would be going into this project that it left me disappointed.

I thought that it would have practical things, or more than it does, maybe involving charms, or tools, or something like that. And, while the first “craft” in the book is a besom (albeit more a “high-end fashion besom” to make a useful tool less boring), and Altars are touched upon (in a decorative way, though she briefly mentions what an altar is), a good portion feels like it is all aesthetic. This book is all Looks with no Magic, even if it pretends to be at times. A lot of the Real With Stuff™ feels like it came from a quick online search.

The book starts out with some anecdote with her grandmother with some her recipes for this like burns, removing stains from tea cups, and putting candles in the freezer so they last longer when burning (I’m skeptical), along with a section of “Interesting Facts” about the history of witch craft that make it feel like this is more of a Halloween Party Decoration manual that it is. Honestly, if I had read the introduction first (a bad habit of mine is to skip it to dive into the actual meat), I may have been a bit forewarned. Note to Self: read the introduction from now on.

The book is then broken up into three sections: The Witch’s Wardrobe (spooky clothes), Home Accessories (self-explanatory), The Witch’s Apothecary (hair and skincare products mostly), The Witches Cauldron (baked things that look spooky), and The Tipsy Witch (alcohol). At this point, even without having read the introduction, the table of contents was giving me a little bit of an off-putting feeling. But, I was writing a review, so I pressed on.

I should say here I made none of these things, so I don’t know if they’re even well done recipes or craft instructions. I read it, and am giving my opinion based on that alone, because I am uninterested in everything in this book. It is also worth mentioning that throughout the book, the projects either have perfectly staged, full page photographs, odd doodles representing the item, and sometimes no picture at all. It makes it feel like some of this was really just filler.

The Wardrobe section is… not my thing. It’s clearly a “let’s look Halloween” section, and some of the items in it are, honestly, ugly to me. Some of them honestly strike me as something you’d wear to a costume party and never again. But, maybe it’s just me. Some of it is admittedly cute, like the mushroom hat for a child, but it’s not something I would seek out. A lot of the items also have an expansive list of craft stuff you need to make them, which I have, but nothing I would sacrifice for this.

The décor is also disappointing. It all feels like Halloween decorations to me. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Halloween decorations: Some may have seen my plastic skeleton in my witch corner in previous posts. I lived for visiting Spirit Halloween every October as a kid. It’s just not what I wanted from this book.

It is in the Home Accessory section that we find the short entry about altars. I had small hope going in, but while it touches on what Altars are for, it really does feel like a how-to on adding a little more witch onto that corner dresser you have room on. It is also somehow made less impressive because on the next page, on the other side of a glorious photo, is a craft item called “Vintage Halloween Hangers” that are just decorated clothes hangers with a doodle of hangers with a cat and a clown(?) themed witch on them. I wasn’t going to show pictures from inside the book, but this…

Anyway. The Apothecary section I skimmed, honestly. At this point I wasn’t interested, and I’m not a skin care kind of girl anyway. I did notice something for beards, so good on her for being gender inclusive and body-hair positive. For cooking, I looked at the pictures and felt disappointed at the Halloween party or making your kids happy vibe. I feel like at this point, the book had kind of given up any pretense of being more than what it is. I didn’t even look at the alcohol, completely bored and beyond ready to close it. Maybe it never did take itself seriously, but I really expected more Magic from a book in the Magic section of the library.

I’m beginning to feel like whoever put the call number to this book lied to me… But then, books are published constantly, and I don’t think this one was looks at very closely. Maybe the publisher billed it as a witch craft book and not something that belongs slotted next to the Christmas Crafts books. Maybe the title was confusing. Has the Dewey Decimal system failed me for the first time? No, wait, the call number for “Halloween – Handicrafts” is 745.594. This is just misplaced. Whatever.

Overall, it’s a cute enough book (even if I don’t personally find much of it aesthetically pleasing, with a wasted pair of socks thrown in for good measure), and perhaps perfect for someone looking for a witchy look, a Halloween look, but not seeking something witchcraft-related. You’re not going to get any spells or charms between the covers of this one, but I suppose if you need the vibe to get in the head space for your craft, it might work for you. It’s not for me, but some DIY-er might like it much better. Look at other reviews or check out our from your library if given a chance, though. It’s not one I would immediately buy.

My fancy new rating image is below. I hope you’re all having a good one, and will see prosperity in the future. It’s a rough time in the world right now. I know I’m struggling a bit, which is why this took so long. My other books are going to be so overdo, haha. Thank goodness for a library that doesn’t charge late fees. I count myself lucky there.

[namjhyun]

DRAMA REVIEW | SHŌGUN (2024)

Fans of period dramas, full of intrigues and political chess plays will find SHOGUN to be their cup of tea. This is an incredible story set in the change of eras which compounds the bushido culture and the arrival of western sailors to the shores of feudal Japan.

Shogun is based on a best selling novel, that fictionalizes real events about the rise of a Samurai Lord to becoming Shogun and the start of what we all know as the Edo Period. Around the end of the 1500s, the portuguese and spanish had arrived to Japan and the Peloponnese, establishing a treated that divided the region in ways that their countries could benefit from the commerce but also create colonies and spread their religion. Rumours about these lands spread among sailors for the next 50 years or so, and finally in the 1600s ships from other monarchies, such as Britain arrived in the region.

At the same time, years earlier there was a time of inner fights and civil war among the japanese. During this time, many peasants were able to socially clime in ranks thanks to their leadership as samurai and eventually became Lords. These new nobility has a hierarchy among them, of course, related to the lands they had won in battle, people and their family's history.

The story of Shogun starts during a period of peace among these Samurai Lords... or so it would seem.

One particular character, a british sailor, is supposed to be the audience placement in the story. As he is introduced and learns about japanese culture, the audience learns about it and what game the Samurai Lords are playing among themselves as the fight for power over the realm.

Legendary japanese actor Hiroyuki Sanada is listed as actor and producer in this tv show. His first time, according to interviews, having a role and say behind the scenes and I have to say he has done an incredible job. This might be an american production but Sanada insisted, as producer, on having an almost all japanese crew and the end result is a 10 episode tv show where each episodes feels like watching a movie. The attention to detail from the cinematography, lighting, sets, locations, the fabrics and designs of the clothing, and performances are simply superb.

Sanada also took it upon himself to teach the younger actors how to speak the japanese from the period the story is set at, something none of them had done before. In western culture this would be equivalent of teaching Shakespeare's english. Maybe you don't know japanese and it doesn't matter to you, plenty of the audience members watching this tv show won't even know this, but I think it adds another layer to the level of commitment everyone involved in this production had when filming Shogun.

The performances are outstanding. Everyone brings their best game and the acting is very subtle, each of actor manages to deliver the strongest emotions through micro-expressions and even silence, a difficult feat when you think this is a story mainly about the art of appearances. Where everyone is holding their cards very close to their chest, so you never know what they are capable of and what will they do next.

Actors like Asano Tadanobu, Hira Takehiro, Nishioka Tokuma and Abbe Shinnosuke are incredible to watch on the screen. Their performances will leave you wanting more. But the true gems of this story are a women: Anna Sawai, Hoshi Moeka, Kouri Yuuka and Nikaido Fumi hold their own against veteran actors and play them like fiddles. They standout as Samurai women, trained in the arts of war and court alike, and play key roles into the events that develop through the ten episodes of the series. The weakest link, acting wise, is Cosmos Jarvis. I am sorry to say I have no cluewhy he was casted. His performance leaves much to be desired, like his character, and since the tv show was renew for two more seasons I am hoping he does better in the future.

This is also a slow burn, goes hand in hand with the nature of the story being told and the performances. Big things do happen in each episode but the tv show slowly builds up to the last two, that's when things really implode/explode and makes a shift to get you ready for the next season.

For all these and so much more that I can't tell you without spoiling the series, you should watch Shogun.

[lucienmelaina]

in which lucien gets a very unexpected visitor (ft. @wordsseekingtruth)

FOSTER Once he'd been left in the apartment alone, Foster's first priority was unpacking his duffel of notebooks. A test run of the shower, a rough trim up of his beard, and the first clean clothes in too long followed, before Foster let himself out to wander Redwood before sunset. Taking the worn path west, Foster was almost immediately looking through windows of a book store - library? It felt perfectly sensible for the surrounds, and completely surreal. Like muscle memory, Foster circled to the door, observing the cold of the door handle, the weight of opening it. Real. Even the smell inside, the wood of the shelves, the aged paper - it gave Foster the same nostalgia an old song might. How many hours had he spent in spaces like this? He ran his fingers along spines, drifting and grounding. A book selected at random and Foster leaned a hip against the desk, flipping idly through pages.

LUCIEN The library had been empty for a couple of hours, leaving Lucien alone with a half finished book and a half finished meal. Conditions that once felt ideal had lately begin to feel slightly suffocating, somewhat between his own injuries, his brother’s fragile state and the constant sense of impending doom hanging over the town- he couldn’t exactly pinpoint when solitude stopped offering the solace it once did, but the quiet had gradually become deafening. He left his desk and headed for the small room in the back, where he kept some essentials and put on the kettle- his excuse was that he drank so much tea and coffee that it only made sense to have the equipment at hand, but the truth was that going up and down the stairs to his apartment felt like a burden too heavy to carry just for some more chamomile. With the filled up mug at hand he returned, only to find someone leaning against the wood, lost in the pages of a book, a tall bearded man he hadn’t seen before. “New in town, I presume? Welcome to Redwood’s library.”

FOSTER If the doubling of past and present hadn't been there already, it certainly dropped into place at that voice. Foster could hear that same voice asking for chapter reviews, another wine, which tie was best and that things just weren't going to work out.

Stupidly, quietly, Foster answered, "You finally gave up on contacts." Of all the things to say, of all the times he'd brooded over what he should have - could have - said? That was the sparkling opener he went with.

He held the book tight, an impromptu comfort item. "Sorry, yes. New."

LUCIEN At first, he was confused at the stranger's words. What kind of contacts was he even talking about? And then he took a longer look at him, through the glasses that he could always see better out of but refused to wear. Very few people knew that, but as it turned out he wasn't much of a stranger after all.

And then, it was chaos. The mug fell out of his hands without even realizing that his hand had gone limp in surprise, shattering into a hundred pieces at his legs, the tea making a mess of his pants that were just thick enough to save him from a rather serious burn. He tried to lean down to fix it, but a pain shot through his whole right side at the movement, making him grab tighter onto his cane to no follow the glass in shattering on the ground.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, partly out of pain, partly out of embarrassment. "Foster?" He looked at him with wide eyes, wondering if this was all some kind of dream, thinking that making such a fool of himself would have been enough to wake him up. "How… What are you doing here?" he asked, stupidly, childishly."

FOSTER Muscle memory moved him, book abandoned on the desk. He tutted, "Ah, Lou. Hang on," and stepped around the shattered pieces. Moving directly past Lucien in the direction he'd appeared. "Broom back there? Towel?"

He paused in the doorway, hand braced on the frame and back to the rest of the room. God, years apart and it was still Foster's instinct to step in and handle things.

The cane was new, the reaction time slow. Foster reconsidered. "Do you need to sit before that gets cleaned up?"

LUCIEN He stayed frozen for a second or two, still mesmerized by Foster's presence in a room he had not dared to ever imagine him in, jumping to action like he always did at times of crisis. But as the man moved, his thoughts started moving as well, wandering and wondering about what his old friend might be thinking of him, standing there unmoving and helpless, waiting for someone else to save the day.

"I don't need to sit down," he exclaimed, like a child being asked whether maybe it's time to go to bed. Decisively, and powered through sheer adrenaline, he walked to the back room, pausing only momentarily next to Foster, trying not to stare too much, hoping he wouldn't disappear.

He grabbed a towel and an old dustpan whose handle had been broken long ago, forcing him to lean down on his good leg to pick up the broken glass. He winced in pain, glad he had his back turned, knowing all this action would come back to haunt him eventually, but not really caring. "Of all the ways I've imagined meeting you again, this was most definitely not on the list. I'm not dead, am I?"

FOSTER He watched, leaned against the wall with arms folded. Lucien was determined to prove some vain point, and Foster knew better than to get in the way of that dervish. Even if he wished, it was no longer his place.

"You imagined me?" That, Foster realized, was not the kindest question. It was his illogical, old and unaddressed hurt talking. To cover, Foster laughed at the idea of Lucien being dead. "This is neither Brontë nor Dickens, Lou. Neither of us is here to haunt the other."

LUCIEN Lucien stood up with a grunt and turned to face Foster with a pain in his eyes that he couldn’t quite conceal, but would probably blame on the strain he had put upon himself.

“I didn’t mean it in a haunting kind of way,” he said and left it there. The fact that he didn’t see Foster as the ghost of a hurtful past did not mean that the same applied vice versa.

“How are you?” he asked earnestly, no matter how stupid it sounded.

FOSTER Some things didn't change. Lucien was as dramatic as he'd ever been, for better or worse. Foster'd been under the impression Redwood was a place for surviving together. Which implied Lucien was specifically rejecting Foster.

"Currently? Uncomfortable." He pushed away from the doorway. "Feels like I shouldn't be here, Lou. Like I'm breaking a rule."

LUCIEN An alarm went off in his head at Foster's words, one that he had long forgotten to be there, detecting the awkwardness in the air between them, blaring that something was wrong and should be fixed. If only he knew how to fix it, if only he hadn't been the one to break it apart.

"Here in Redwood or here in the library? Because making you feel unwelcome in a library comes with a guilt I can't quite bear," he gave a sad half-smile, leaning against the desk for support, refusing to listen to his body and sit down, afraid that he would ruin whatever fragile balance was building between them.

FOSTER He rubbed his face with one hand, his laugh dry. "C'mon, don't do that." As if that was the line in the sand.

It was a defensive gesture, but Foster crossed his arms. "We're adults, Lou." God knew surviving the last few years had been a hell of a lot harder than heartache. "I'd be just as uncomfortable in the street or on a plane or… some hotel lobby. Because it's you, and because of the way things ended." Dancing around it wasn't going to make it less true.

LUCIEN "God, this is so weird," he said with another chuckle, in the least humorous and least religious way imaginable. He finally pulled out the chair from behind the desk to sit down, stretching out and rubbing his right thigh to numb the pain, with a newfound sense of embarrassment that he tried to ignore.

"I understand that you hate me," he admitted, the words bitter in his mouth. "But we found each other at the end of the world," 'my love,' he almost instinctively adds, the sound of his old nickname making him want to use his as well, but accepting that he relinquished that right long ago. "You can choose to ignore my existence, but if you ever want to talk through this bizarre serendipity, I'll be here. It's not like I can go very far, anyway," he said, gesturing to his general state.

FOSTER "Stranger things, I'm sure." Foster watched Lucien ease himself into the chair, rub his leg. It was his nature to care, but Lucien hadn't even let him help with a broken cup. Hadn't wanted help. All he could do was observe.

"You-" Foster caught himself, pulled back. For a writer, Lucien certainly struggled to understand words when in a mood. Foster said uncomfortable and Lucien turned it into hateful. What did he think Foster was doing, if not talking about it?

He rubbed the back of his neck, calming mindfully. "The state of you. How'd it happen?"

LUCIEN The state of you, Foster said, and even though that’s how Lucien thought about it just moments ago, the sting was there. He hated that he had to see him like this- he was never good at drowning out his troubles in front of him, but knowing that now it was practically impossible made a part of him want to run away. Again.

He didn’t. Instead he reached out with his cane and latched it on a chair on the other side of the desk, swiftly dragging it closer to them and gesturing for Foster to sit down and join him on this trip down memory lane, to fill in the many gaps that were left open in their history.

“The short version is that I got impaled by a tree branch while running away from zombies. The long version would require some more time,” he said, offering him the option to refuse, hoping he wouldn’t.

FOSTER "You're good with that thing," Foster offered, something like a laugh punctuating the comment. He obliged Lucien, sitting to listen.

"Impaled? Jesus. How long ago?" It sounded like a miracle that Lucien had survived the encounter, especially with hospitals no longer an option.

LUCIEN He laughed back at his comment, swinging the cane around in his fingers absentmindedly, like he always did when his mind drifted off, almost an appendage of himself after all this time.

“A couple of years now. The people of Redwood put me back together and I’ve ended up running the library at the end of the universe. Very Douglas Adams of me, can’t complain,” he instinctively threw the literary reference, knowing Foster would bite. “And you? When did you make it out of DC?”

FOSTER "The council seemed sensible enough - I like the holding period. Is the medical care really that good?" Fortuitous for Lucien, indeed, and for everyone else.

"Mm, I don't know, I didn't hear one report of dolphins abandoning the planet." It was easy, now that they'd both acknowledged the discomfort. Now that Lucien set aside dramatics. Easy to speak civilly, to exchange their references. The elephant would sit politely in one corner if they let it.

Foster sat up a little straighter. "How did you know I was in DC?" He'd been unpacking in their newly-purchased home when Lucien so unceremoniously broke things off. An educated guess, maybe? Journalist going where the news was.

LUCIEN “I mean, they did the best they could,” he replied with a general gesture, still fairly self-conscious of being seen like this by him in particular. The people of Redwood knew him as nothing else, but the thought that Foster might see him as broken tugged at his heart with a force he had forgotten.

With a smile placed there by the acceptance of his bait, he pondered over his question for a moment, figured there was no point in lying, not when the universe had decided to throw them together again. “I read all your articles. Like I always did,” he said, matter-of-factly but with a hint of confession in his words. “I was in DC as well, trying to convince myself not to come find you when my group had to go on the run.”

FOSTER Clearly, this was a point of pride for Lucien. Functionality, appearance - it mattered to him now, and Foster wondered how much it had always mattered. If it were Foster, would he care as much?

The first instinct was to doubt. To ask why. But - under reactions, there was a kind of logic. Lucien had made his choice in a frantic state. Committed to it, never took it back while he could. But he'd follow the writing. "But you didn't," Foster sighed. Tired, but not accusatory. A resigned statement of fact.

Ruffling his hair, Foster managed a smile in spite of himself, however ironic. "Because that's how the story always goes, Lou. Could have. Didn't. Choices and consequences."

LUCIEN “But I didn’t,” he echoed, and it didn’t come with as much pain as he had expected it to. It came with a numbness and a relief and the constant wonder of having Foster across from him to speak these words to.

“I am not the same person who made those choices, those mistakes,” he said without thinking, or maybe after having thought for way too long, years and years, imagining what he could have done differently, what he would do in the hypothetical scenario of meeting him again. He owed it to everyone to put the hypothesis to the test. “I am older and more tired and in pain and so incredibly sorry that I hurt you,” he admitted, the words almost liberating. “You can believe as much of that as you like. The story chose to bring you here, but you can be the one to hang up the phone this time.”

FOSTER He listened, sympathized, understood. But, it made Foster so sad, right down the middle of him, that Lucien would think that way. "Ah, Lou," he sighed again, reaching to pat the hand of his old friend. "That's the thing I worry you don't understand. I'd never do that."

The sigh was brief, exhaled through the nose before Foster stood. "You'll want to clean those before they stain." He moved the chair back to where it had been, and hesitated there, hands on the back of it. "Thank you for the apology."

LUCIEN His hand still burned where it had been touched as Foster stood up and Lucien could almost hear his own heart break all over again. He wasn’t going to clean the spilled tea- maybe it is stained it would be a proof that this was real.

“Wait, Foster,” he said in an almost panic, hastily grabbing his cane and getting up with effort. Don’t leave, he wanted to say, scared that he would never see him again, like when he closed the door of their apartment, never to come back. “Do you want a book?” he said instead, knowing that if anyone could understand the meaning of that offering, it would be him. “For company, I mean. I know how lonely Redwood can get, especially when you’re new,” he explained, gesturing towards the bookcases behind them. “People here don’t appreciate Dostoevsky nearly enough.”

FOSTER He had to hold himself in place, hands firm on the chair. Lucien hadn't wanted help. So, he waited. "Philistines," Foster managed a laugh. Still, he shook his head, declining. "I don't think I'll be in a headspace to curl up with a book tonight, Lou. But I'll be back to see what's available. Another day."

LUCIEN "Another day," Lucien agreed with a nod, hoping he actually meant it. His knuckles were turning white, mirroring Foster's grip on the back of the chair. Fingers that were so used to being linked once, having to be desperately held back.

He held his gaze for a while, before a sound made it drift towards the back. His cat lazily landed on the wooden floor, sniffing the spilled tea, passing between Lucien's leg and cane, and then focusing on the strange presence in his home. He smelled Foster's shoes to test the waters, deemed him worthy enough and happily rubbed his back against his pants with a purr. "Gatsby!" Lucien scolded him, getting back just a brief look of indifference. "Feel free to shoo him away, he obviously doesn't listen to me," he explained apologetically.

FOSTER Foster's laugh was indulgent and immediate. He knelt to offer his hand. "It's a hug - when cats do that. He might not understand you scolding him for affection, Lou."

When the cat ignored his hand in favor of continuing the investigation of his shoes, Foster shrugged and stood once more. "Gatsby, not Gatz?" His question was for Lucien, but he tsked the feline. "You're on a rough course, pal."

LUCIEN "You know I've always been a sucker for a tragic ending," he said, but no matter how ominous it might have sounded, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of Foster with his cat, so mundane and heartwarming. "But this Gatsby is terrified of water and in no risk of getting shot, because everyone loves him."

"And he definitely likes you," he continued, wondering when the last time was that his own cat spent that much attention on him. "Which is perfectly on brand with you charming my pets."

FOSTER "Small mercies," Foster chuckled. The little beasty wound between his feet, and it was all too easy to imagine tripping over Gatsby repeatedly. "So is he the mascot or guard, then?"

The reference to Lucien's dog saddened Foster. "Heath, yeah. He stuck it out with me a long time. All my running around to cover the story and he'd keep up every step." Foster could only manage a sad smile. "You'd have been proud."

LUCIEN "He is my annoying roommate," was Lucien's immediate answer, like every other time someone asked about Gatsby and he tried to deny that the cat was his. "He lived here before me, so I couldn't exactly kick him out when I moved in," he continued, only to realize that a few parts of the story were probably missing. "Oh, yes. I live upstairs. So all those jokes about living in a library? I kind of made them come true."

The mention of Heathcliff made Lucien's heart break anew, in a way he had almost forgotten. "Sounds fitting," he said and contemplated not elaborating on the subject- a part of him wanted to believe that his dog was running around happily somewhere, with people that loved him as much as he did. He hoped he didn't feel like Lucien abandoned him, although a conversation about abandonment did not seem fitting between the two of them. "I hope he didn't suffer," he ends up with, the curiosity getting the best of him, even if he had to try hard to fight back the tears that were filling up his eyes.

FOSTER "No, he's not," Foster laughed. "You're the guy who moved into his place." Shaking his head, he couldn't smother the smile.

But the way Lucien's voice thickened, the emotion in it, hurt. "He didn't, I promise." Foster held his gaze, nodding to emphasize his words. "He was a lot of comfort to a lot of people, Lou."

LUCIEN "I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me," Lucien said, sniffling his nose and quickly wiping his eyes with his thumb. It was still his instinct to try to hide his weakness and he had been away from Foster for long enough to be able to resist the urge to instantly open up to him.

But that smile, he had missed it so much. "I'm really glad you're alive," he said before he could stop himself.

FOSTER "Feelings, that's all," he chided, but gently. "Which, one must remind one, all people experience." Again, Foster caught himself slipping so easily into their old patter. Slipping into a role that was no longer his.

Momentarily surprised, Foster ruffled his hair with both hands. "That's… good to hear." He hadn't doubt it, but hearing it was better. "I'm glad you're alive, too, Lou."

LUCIEN "Sorry, I-" he started again, but he figured out it was no use. They had gotten to the end of the world, the least he could grant himself was the freedom to say true things. "I will stop apologizing now," he said with a laugh, some invisible weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Let me know if you need any help with settling in," he offered, but quickly thought again. "Emotional support and questions about the town mostly, because it's not like I can carry things. And when you inevitably need books, because I know you will," he commented with a smirk, "we've got a wide variety. A couple even dedicated to you."

FOSTER Though he shook his head, Foster was smiling all the same. "Some things just don't change, do they?"

Tapping his fingers on the back of the chair, he laughed. "What - you kept writing after the third book? Or did someone write me into the acknowledgements of other books?" Foster glanced at Gatsby, although whether it was an accusation or hope for information was unclear. "I'll need books soon enough, and I said I'd come back, Lou. You don't have to entice."

LUCIEN "No, neither of those," Lucien laughed. "That was pretentious author talk for 'I have exactly two copies of my third book, one of which is currently held together purely through luck, good will, and my staring daggers at anyone who tries to touch it."

Even the scolding, he had missed. There was a bit of self-consciousness and embarrassment at Foster's words, but he chose not to apologize again. "I will see you around, then."

end.

[crplpunkklavier]

tea review #16

Hi everyone! I’m back with another tea review this week. This one is called Elder Blend 8, and it was sent to me by the Gods themselves. This is not a sponsorship, though! I’m getting no reward for this, monetary or otherwise. If the Gods want to sponsor me, they’re absolutely free to get in touch with me again… You guys have my number…! Any day now. Anyway. This one’s not sponsored, no, they just materialized their blend in my kitchen and asked me to leave a review. Which at least means I get to be honest about it! So let’s get into this.

I’ve already brewed it up and let it cool a little so I don’t burn my whole mouth again like the last time. We are learning! Review number sixteen, we are now learning to let our tea cool.

Mm. Okay. Well… Let me get a few more sips. Yeah, alright, look. We all know I love a good citrus. Right? We know that about me by now. Love a good citrus. The problem with citrus is that a lot of cleaning products are also citrus. So if you’re gonna give me citrus tea, you’ll have to get real careful not to make me think I’m drinking fresh dishwater. I’m just saying! I can tell there was an idea of citrus in here, but it kind of still tastes like I put some dish soap into my hot water. Th

A

OH, COME ON.

See, this is why I don’t like doing these!! Someone will always send me their shit to review and be all, ohhh, it’s not sponsored, you can be honest, please be honest! We promise we won’t be mad!! And then I do an honest review and now I have knowledge of the exact date and time the last person who remembers me will die. And the review wasn’t even that bad!!!

Ugh, whatever. I don’t know why I still do this to myself. You know what, Gods, the next time you leave shit in my kitchen to review, I’m just going to dump it straight into the trash. I don’t even care about this anymore. And you know what? I’m actually just going to call back one of the demons that wanted to sponsor me for their blend, because I can leave them a reaaal nice review on it, and then in return they can just help me forget this cute little tidbit again.

But first I’m going to put the kettle back on.

That’s it for this one! As always, thanks for tuning in, please remember to leave a review on this series if you haven’t already, and keep liking and sharing with your friends if you want me to be able to stay independent and not have to take sponsorships from stupid Gods with bad tea! Tea you later!

*

for "disrespecting the ancient elder tea" from @aiweirdness' halloween prompt list :)

[jessread-s]

✩🪐🌪️Review:

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review

A romantic sci-fi adventure that will make your heart race and flutter!

“Into the Churn” follows Ezren Hart as she enters her planet’s deadly and most lucrative race in hopes of saving her mother’s terraforming lab. Her partner and veteran racer Foster Sterling has reasons of his own for partaking in Belthea’s Race Royale: to uncover the truth behind the death of his former teammate. It’s a race against time to the finish line, but they can’t outrun the mysterious string of accidents befalling them or the spark that ignites between them.

Admittedly science-fiction isn’t my cup of tea because I can easily become overwhelmed by abstract concepts, but I’m so glad I decided to branch out with this book because it is just so fun! I was immediately swept up in Chow’s Casolla system from the very first page. Through Ezren’s point-of-view the reader is organically introduced to Belthean customs and traditions, including slang unique to those who inhabit the planet and the race royale. The stakes are high for both Ezren and Foster with savage and volatile storms being a part of the course they have to navigate. The added threat of other racers sabotaging their competition paired with the elements of mystery and fast pacing made it so that there was never a dull moment!

With so much on the line I also couldn’t help but root for both Ezren and Foster to be the first to finish and was desperate to see their relationship take off. This book is advertised as a slow burn and while I wouldn’t say that is the case, I really enjoyed watching their feelings for each other grow from both of their perspectives. The inclusion of the fake dating trope pushes Ezren and Foster to spend more time together as part of a publicity stunt until the line between what is pretend and what is real begins to blur. I couldn’t get enough of their chemistry!

Cross-posted to: Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads | StoryGraph

[lemongingerart]

Chapter 2 - Shooting lessons (II)

Fic summary: The second arc of my Armitage Hux x OC fanfic, “chocolate cookies and tarine tea”, in which both need to deal with the mess they got into (and with each other, eh eh eh). Involves cookies that won't be eaten and tea that will get spilled. Same goes for certain feelings... they are going to be hungry ant thirsty 😏

You can find the link to AO3 and other chapters on Tumblr in the pinned message on my dash, both for the first and second arc 😊

Rating: Explicit. This is going to be very NSFW. So, Minors, do NOT read or interact. 18+. Family, friends and colleagues, please don’t read this. :’-)

Tags & warnings: TRoS fix-it (kind of), Hux!lives, Hux doesn’t like Kylo, Not a Redemption Arc, maybe a little bit, shameless fem!OC insert (there are cliches but entertaining ones imo), slow emotional burn, medium sexual burn, Enemies to Enemies With Benefits to Lovers, Hux is still a villain don't forget, Virgin Characters, masturbation against the door, pinv, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Awkward Sexual Situations, Past Child Abuse, dubious first kiss, Dom/sub Undertones, Mental Breakdown, Unprotected Sex, wet Hux, that deserves a tag/warning on its own, Minor Character Death

I will add tags as we proceed in the story, please let me know if I forgot one!

Taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess, @morby and anyone who’d like to join 🥰

A/N:    Yessss it’s Hux turn now to be embarrassed 😈 by the stars I hope I did him justice. And this is not even the real deal. How do people even write this stuff?

Oh wait, I just did… somewhere in the next chapters 😬🙋

(Don't get any wrong ideas, me publishing 2 chapters in 2 days is a unique thing 😂 Let me know if some parts are inconsistent - I reviewed this so many times and I am literally falling asleep on my desk. But publishing the previous chapter got me enthusiastic and now I'm doing things I might regret yolooooooooo)

This was different. 

Once, when he was still a Lieutenant and reluctantly assigned to drill newcomers by Brendol, he instructed cadets on their first shooting lessons. He took the job seriously, but the mandatory physical contact was something he had liked to avoid as much as possible. Having his father oversee his progress didn’t really help. The latter thought he could never do any good and ever since Sloane had bestowed the group of commandants' cadets from Arkanis on him, and made it clear the commandant had to convey his teaching techniques to him, tensions were… high.

Nonetheless, he made sure the new cadets were on the top rankings within the then already distributed First Order training curriculum, and tutoring these classes became a routine job.

This time, however, he felt that every little contact filled him with static electricity, although he was absolutely certain that was scientifically impossible. It made him lighter in his touch, doubtful, but also slightly longing to explore the strange responses their physical connection was making. He was slowly becoming aware that he was lingering just a bit too long on her hands, her arm, her shoulder, but he could not let go just yet. Seeing goosebumps form on her lower arm and the fact that he knew he was causing them, made him want to see which other effects he could have on her.

He gulped, all of a sudden conscious that the mysterious effect was starting to become bidirectional. His head felt light,  caused by little sparks popping up in his brain, and his face felt like it was burning. Contradictory, goosebumps formed underneath his clothes. He became aware of how the fabric was rubbing his skin and he couldn't stop thinking about how it would be if it were her warm hands instead.

Hux took a sharp breath and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, forcing his eyebrows into a harsh furrow as much as possible in an effort to hide any other evidence apparent on his features. 

“Remember this position. The stance of your arm will catch up the recoil. Now, try to aim and shoot,” he said sternly, hoping she didn’t hear the slight raspiness of his voice.

The blush on his cheeks refused to subside though, as did the thoughts of exploring her exposed skin some more. So he hastily decided to create some distance between them, before he would do something he might regret. 

Once he regained his wits somewhat, he slowly went to stand behind Miko, trying to march with a steady thread. He hoped she wouldn’t turn around to check on him, because he suspected she could easily notice the result of his state of mind now. 

Stars , this wasn’t the first time she made him lose his cool like this. He hated it, how she threw him off balance, made him feel out of control. 

Miko positioned the blaster as instructed and took a shot. The result wasn’t good, but definitely better than the previous feeble attempt. 

Looking at her stance, there was still some work to do. "Spread your legs a bit more" he added, very much aware that the instruction could be misinterpreted, given the light tremor intruding his spoken words. To his relief, she didn’t say anything about it. Now that he thought about it,  she hadn't looked his way nor spoken for a while now. He wasn’t going to complain about that, thank the stars , but it was curious in comparison to her usual manners. 

“Again, watch your left arm. Compensate.” he instructed, still aware that his voice didn't sound as determined as it usually did. The distance he created slowly made him able to focus again, though. At least enough, so he wouldn't blurt out ridiculous things. Or worse, do something he might regret. 

Again, again, again, he had to repeat for another 10 minutes, and she still wasn’t able to hit the target - and he still wasn’t able to let the unprofessional thoughts dissipate. The only thing he could do for now, was keep them at bay. 

He sighed, thinking about her lack of precision. When a recruit performed this badly, he usually sent them away for maintenance personnel training or something similar. Sanitising duty if he was extra annoyed.

But now, he had to persevere, if only for his own good. On top of that, his mind was still betraying him. It was as if it was sending him little doses of impure ideas, while having to watch her bring up her arms to aim the blaster, the pose exposing her curves more than usual. He repeatedly dictated her to correct her stance, resulting in her pivoting her feet with her usual energetic attitude. The accompanying harsh movements made her butt move in ways he couldn’t divert his gaze from, once he caught sight of it. Every little thing he noticed about her was making the shooting lessons even more of a challenge. But at least, the distance made it possible to subdue those thoughts enough to proceed with the exercise.

After another round of disheartening attempts, Miko hung down her shoulders and let out a frustrated moan, the raw noise bringing Armitage right back to his problematic thoughtlines, but this time much worse. He couldn’t stop the rather lewd visualisation that the sound forcibly pushed into his head. He could feel his blood boiling, his cheeks furiously glowing, fingers tingling as if they've been deprived of blood circulation all the while and oh by the galaxy his pants were becoming tighter…

Of all times, she turned around to face him now, as if she knew what he was going through after that groan of hers. In a haze of panic, Hux swiftly turned on his heels, towards the door, trying to hide the blush and other evidence in the less well lighted area of the loading bridge. 

‘Short break’, he almost whispered, before he left the small hangar space.

Armitage fled to his quarters, for the second time locking the door, leaning onto it. He was acutely aware of the déjà vu, and he knew back then the urge, the want, only increased after he had opened the door. Whenever she got close to him, it was as if his body had a mind on its own. Before, he was able to control himself, but what happened in the hangar was absolutely ludicrous. He needed to get her out of his system, so he could actually instruct her without thinking about trailing his hands over not only her hands and arms, but also her back, trace the muscles there that pull her shoulders back as a response to his fingers, map the bones of her clavicle, watch her throat gulp when he passes there with his thumb, then dipping down slowly, cupping and squeezing her breasts, seeing her shudder under his touch running downwards, working his fingers under the hem of her pants, pulling her closer by her belt and…

Fuck. It was no use.

He was again standing there, up against the door, like a stupid horny lowlife, with a rock hard boner he could hang his greatcoat on. He felt foolish and worthless, not being able to keep his subconscious needs where they should remain: subconscious. He’s a frigging officer of the First Order, he was able to withstand much more triggers than this, mentally taking note that he was taking over her horrible swearing habits as well. Seeing someone act so freely, without any emotional boundaries, was stirring up things deep inside him he couldn't bring to words yet. It was tearing down his carefully built up walls and he wasn’t sure what to think about it. 

But the dick was a serious issue. He still had to finish the training, to give their mission any chance of succeeding.

Frack.  

He snapped open the neck clasp of his uniform and pulled the clothing open with a speed which could damage the material, but right now he couldn’t care less. He clipped open his belt, making sure the thing didn’t clatter on the floor and alarm her. For all he knew, she was standing right behind the door he was leaning onto. Oh by the maker … he shouldn’t have thought about that, an almost painful throb shooting through his cock, which made him lower his pants with a bit more care than the uncharacteristically frenzy he performed on his vest. 

He took himself in his hand, shut his eyelids and debated whether or not he should do this. It’s been a while, he usually pulls so many all-nighters, making him pass out on his blue sofa or in best case in his bed with the datapad on his lap. 

But, by closing his eyes, his wretched imagination took over, taking him back to the hangar and the sounds she let out, suddenly turning into something much more explicit in his imaginary ears. Stars, he hated the fact that he couldn’t control his thoughts from flowing freely, but it was no use - he couldn’t stop the images from popping up. 

A fraction of a second later, he heard the same indecent noise but the scenery was replaced with the one in which she was only in one of his towels. When she was looking for something to wear, a few days ago, bowing down. His towels, his shirt, his… he wanted her to be his to claim… 

He suddenly was standing mere inches from her flushed face, their breath’s mangling when she righted herselves and slowly leaned into him. He started peeling off the plush piece of fabric in his fabricated dream while he automatically started pumping himself, not aware of his ridiculous stance and the cold durasteel on his back. He was so far gone he wouldn’t notice a star exploding. 

Hux didn’t think he still had a few brain cells left for producing imaginary scenarios like this, since he had tried to ignore them for so long. 

But by taking the plunge, they made him dive so deep into his subconsciousness he wasn’t even aware of what was up or down and by the gods of the galaxy he was yearning, yearning for a soft touch, to make her feel good and just feel something in return, feel worthy and content, for once in his life. To be in control of her pleasure, to make her whimper under his touch when he slowly traced her arms and shoulder, like he did in the hangar, her plump breasts, her buttcheeks, every detail of her skin. Just take in the effects he could have on her and feed on them. Greedily take the nape of her neck in his hands and pull her closer to taste her, pulling her legs up and press-

He shuddered, quickly imagining being buried deep down in her, the pressing of his hands on her hips and her neck leaving bruises, and pulling her impossibly closer on his spilling cock.

He opened his eyelids, the light of the room playing tricks on his retina because he squeezed his eyes close too hard. He only then realised his hands were sticky from his cum, coming down from a height he hadn’t been on for a very long time. 

Actually, if he thought about it, he couldn’t have imagined it was ever like this. This…intense… real. Soft? His usual sexual fantasies were definitely not this emotionally loaded and soft. And took a while longer to reach its climax. This was ridiculously improvised.

Now that he was more or less thinking clearly, it made him feel sick.

He was still trying to catch his breath, pondering on why she was doing this to him. How was he going to be able to withstand these urges he never had to keep under control before?

Hux heard some rambling in the wardroom, snapping him out the leftovers of his trance. How long was he standing here against the door? She might start asking questions if I don't get my act together now . He stumbled to the sink, washed up quickly, hastily put on his clothes - hissing when he raked the bacta patch while pulling his pants up - and combed his hair. Then, he double checked his appearance in the mirror, wanting to make sure there was no evidence left of his previous state of distress. 

He took a deep breath, put his head up high and took long strikes to the door. This time, he wouldn’t allow himself to get distracted.

He just entered the wardroom and noticed Miko walking towards the cockpit, datapad and some rubbish in both hands. 

What is she up to? Again?  

Armitage followed her wake, both annoyed by her sudden and unauthorised action and curious what got into her head this time. When he arrived, that droid and she were doing something at the comm unit and didn't look at him entering. 

"All set and done. You should be able to connect to my commlink now!” She exclaimed with a smile, signalling him that she did notice his arrival.

"The new identification code they provided us with is also installed. Your ship should be listed as a cargo vessel right now." She happily mentioned, after she placed her hands on her hips.

Hux sighed, glad a practical conversation might make him forget about what he just wanted to do to her, and replied: "Let's hope no one wants to actually check it out, because one glance from an enthusiastic republican will get us into trouble." Miko quickly turned her head towards him. “We should’ve painted the ship in a happy colour, you’re right. Like, bright orange.” she whispered in a secretive way. 

He cocked his eyebrow, not sure what to do with her comment. 

”Kidding Hux, I don’t have a death wish. Although I don’t know if death at your hands would be worse than whatever we’re facing next.” she said smilingly, turning back to the controls. 

Hux gulped and decided not to react to that comment. He was content to hear she didn’t underestimate him, but he did just think about fucking her with his hands on her neck and now… he decided the weapons controls needed to be checked. 

Any distraction would do.

After a short pause, she righted her back and said to him: “I'm done here. Up for round 2?” 

He harshly turned his attention to her, slightly confused and already sweating under his collar, the sentence having a completely different meaning in his ears. Before he could actually register what she was really talking about, she exclaimed “I’ll be in the hangar” and turned around with a slightly bubbly attitude. 

He sighed again and followed her wake, keeping enough distance. He wasn’t going to get tricked by his hormones twice.

The training session went on for another 30 standard minutes. Hux kept his distance and was able to find back his instructor mode, and even keep any unwanted distractions to a minimum. They kept going, until she was able to automatically pull, aim and shoot. Actually hitting a target was beneath any standards, but for the approaching rendezvous, just having the movement in her physical memory would have to suffice. 

The proximity alarm went off, signalling their arrival. The duo stopped their activities. Miko holstered the blaster, put PC on her back, and followed in Hux’ shadow towards the cockpit.

A/N: Shields breaking, walls cracking… next time, maybe teeth colliding? Who knows…