#the setting she's in came from a dream and now its become a whole thing

[citrinafyre]

this is my oc ivory she is an angel :) (bottom is her true form)

[f1angelz]

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒆 — charles leclerc x f!reader

summary: the F1 off season has begun and Charles has gone off to New York along with his fellow drivers to enjoy their break. Little did he know, he would encounter a familiar face.

content warnings: slight angst? (during flashbacks)

this fic is inspired by chase atlantic’s song, paradise. go give it a listen while reading!

── .✦

Flashing lights, big signs, and the night life�� the city that never sleeps.

It’s the off season, which meant that drivers finally get to unwind and reset before the new season begun.

Charles, along with several other drivers, decided to come back to New York to enjoy its amenities once again like they did a few years back.

He was a bit hesitant at first, knowing that he had to leave his dog Leo, but his brother Arthur offered to take care of him for the mean time.

And now Charles is in his shared hotel room with Pierre, both resting as they waited for the night to come. Lando was going to DJ at some club tonight, and obviously they wanted to come and support him.

Night quickly came and Pierre woke up from his nap. Upon checking his phone, it was already 9 pm. He leaves bed and looks at Charles who has also fallen asleep. “Mate, it’s already 9. We have to get there at 10.” He gives Charles a small nudge on the shoulder, before going to the bathroom to change his clothes.

Charles groans, “Do we really have to go?”

“Do you want Lando to kick your ass?” Pierre shouts from the bathroom, his mouth filled with toothpaste.

Pierre exits the bathroom in his changed clothes, which meant it was Charles’ turn to go.

Danny and Lando were waiting for both of them, since they rented a limo for all their destinations in New York. Eventually, they were now complete and left for the club.

They arrived after around an hour later and line was already crazy long, but they were able to skip the wait since they were with Lando, who was the main act for the night.

The loud beats and dancing lazers welcomed them— Charles squinted, unable to adjust his eyesight immediately. The four of them made their way through the crowd, but Lando parted ways and went to the stage side, since his set was next.

The rest on the other hand, snaked their way out of the crowd and finally found the bar to get their ‘pre-game’ drinks.

Charles hasn’t gone clubbing in a hot minute, probably because ever since Leo came into his life it’s all that he’s been busy about aside from racing.

But it’s good to unwind your gears for a moment, right? It’s the main reason why they went on this boys trip.

All three of them suddenly turned their attention when Lando’s name was introduced by hypeman, making the crowd go wild.

Lando’s set began and the three of them made their way to the dance floor, but a security member was quick to pull them away from the crowd and towards the DJ’s booth.

To say the least, three of them were shocked. But Lando gave them a smug smirk, “See, told you that I’d make this night fun.” and he did.

The crowd grew larger and by the minute, alcohol was slowly taking its effect. Not a single thought was going into Charles’ head, it was like his body had a mind of its own. The adrenaline was rushing to his whole body, his view of the crowd hyping him up even more.

But not until he saw a familiar figure among the crowd.

That hair, those eyes, and those lips.

Charles practically froze, processing what he saw. Did he see things right? Or was it the alcohol?

—

“I swear, one day I’ll be working in New York pursuing my dreams of becoming an author.” Y/N proclaims, biting on her croissant as she watched the sun slowly rise.

“And when that happens, your face will be all over those fancy LED screens in Times Square.” Charles presses a kiss on her forehead.

“You’ll be there for me, right?” She looks up at him, waiting for an answer.

“You know I will, chérie.”

—

Pierre looked over to Charles, realizing that he stopped dancing and had a frozen look on his face. He nudged his shoulder, “Comment ça va?”

Charles jolted, snapping out of his flashback. “Yeah.”

He wished that it was the alcohol.

The rest of the night was a blur, and Charles woke up that afternoon with the worst hangover possible. He slowly peeled his eyes open and the light pooled his eyes, causing him to groan.

Pierre turns to his direction, “Afternoon to you, mate.”

Charles sits up slowly, “What time is it?”

“It’s 3 PM.” Pierre answers.

He groans and buries his face in his hands, taking a deep break before standing up slowly. Unable to keep his balance, he holds onto the wall for support.

“How’d we get home?” Charles asked, watching his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom.

“We called an Uber. You were so wasted last night, mate. You were drinking uncontrollably and talking about this girl. We didn’t understand who you were talking about, but you mentioned a name.” Pierre said while he filled up a glass with water, then handing it to Charles.

Charles, who was sipping from his glass, almost spat it out. “A name?”

“Yeah, I don’t remember what it was.”

Charles sighed.

He had an idea whose name he probably mentioned.

Charles shrugged and entered the bathroom to take a shower, getting rid of the remnants of the alcoholic scent that stuck to his skin.

Trying to puzzle the pieces of last night’s incident, something urged him to leave and find what would make his mind at ease.

Charles quickly changes his clothes and grabs his phone, coat, and wallet.

“I’m going out, mate. I’ll be back in a few hours. Maybe before dinner.”

Before Pierre could say anything, Charles was already out the door.

As soon as he left the hotel, he didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know how where he was going to look for this peace he needed.

But one thing is for sure— it was bugging him, like a broken record.

So he walked around Times Square for a few minutes to see where his feet would lead him, looking at the different flashing billboards.

One billboard caught his eye.

He stopped his footsteps and saw the same girl from last night.

The same girl.

—

“Y/N, I’m sorry please. Forgive me.” Charles begged, clinging onto her arm. “Don’t leave me, please.”

“You always say sorry, Charles. But you never really are.” Y/N forcibly tries to pull him away from her arm, carrying her suitcase towards the door.

“Ch��rie, please, I’ll do better.”

“God knows that I’ve been patient, and all you’ve done is hurt me over and over again. Charles, I’m so, so tired. Let me go.” She clicks open the door knob of Charles’ apartment, taking a step outside.

Charles cried, still trying to get a hold of her.

“Please.. Please, Y/N.” He sobbed.

“Goodbye, Charles.” She walked away and closed the door, leaving him devastated.

—

It was her, Y/N, on the billboard— advertising her book signing event for her New York Times best selling book which happened to be on the same day.

Charles quickly took a picture of the address and called for a cab, telling the driver the destination.

He didn’t know what to feel, or what to do.

But he needed to see her, even just a glimpse.

Charles arrived at the event and fell in line, despite it reaching almost the end of the block.

He checked his phone for the time, 4:15 PM. The signing starts at 4:30.

He waited for a while, nervous about their possible encounter.

A sudden commotion was heard from near the entrance, a limousine pulled up to the front and body guards were surrounding the vehicle.

A man opened the door and revealed a woman, dressed in heels and a pair of beige slacks along with a white button down polo.

It really was her.

Charles really couldn’t believe his eyes. The girl who once aspired to become a best-selling author, was now already one. All of their memories together in the past all flashed before him.

And she walks down,

I noticed that she does it for real now

Y/N waved at her fans and greeted some of them, walking along the barricaded line and taking some pictures.

He was nervous, was she even going to recognize him?

When she got to where Charles was, they immediately locked eyes.

She remembered who he was— and like Charles, all her memories came flashing back.

“Charl—“ Before she could even finish his name, a fan pulled her to take a picture. But she looked back at Charles once more, confirming if it really was him.

And she talks loud,

She’s telling me what I wanna hear now

Is it real now?

How do I know for sure?

Needless to say, Charles was speechless— and Y/N was too.

── .✦

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

The thing about her musings on her youth in this album is not just about the spending her “prime” years with someone who ultimately couldn’t give her what she thought they both wanted (family, but also in general sense the happiness you get when you’re young and your whole lives are ahead of you).

There’s SO much about her youth in general here, and how the demons of the past have raised and broken her. How each of these experiences have chipped away at her youth. This whole album is give me back my girlhood, it was mine first.

It’s all the things she’s talking about had are part of the same big trauma of the loss of that youth and innocence. It’s snakegate and how Kim K and her lackeys deliberately set out to destroy Taylor’s reputation for sport, which ripped out Taylor’s last few grasps of that young adulthood freedom without her consent. It’s mulling the price she’s paid for spending her entire youth in the spotlight and becoming a commodity instead of a person. It’s looking at a friend’s child and wishing she could protect them from the world the way she wishes she could have been had she known. It’s putting your trust in your first love who ripped the rug out from under you and your faith along with it. It’s spending your time pining for your younger days in the haze of unspeakable loss. It’s carving off parts of yourself as you grow up to make yourself palatable to your peers and your partners and as a result not knowing what parts of you are left. It’s revisiting a love from your past when you still had it all, and after the initial frenzy realizing its hollow. And yes, it’s pouring your heart and soul into a relationship you think is forever and with each passing year the light in the window flickering dimmer and dimmer, only to realize the light wasn’t coming from your home after all, and you may lose your chance to find it again before it’s too late and the dreams you so desperately cling to vanish for good.

And that’s what the end message I think ends up being in So High School: she’s reclaiming the land as it were. All these things that were taken from her and that she gave up are up for a redo. And it’s not rewriting the past, it’s coming to the realization that all those parts are still within her but so is the good. That the freedom she gave up when she released her first album is still found in the backseat of a boy’s car all these years later. That she’s older and wiser and battleworn but that doesn’t mean she can’t find that joy and lightness. “I feel so high school when I look at you” is kind of a loaded statement from someone who didn’t really get to go to high school (both actually and metaphorically). “Bittersweet sixteen suddenly” (love that wordplay btw) because again— she’s been through so much that the feelings of new love that make her giddy like a girl are tinged because she’s been here before and also never been here before because she was never that kid.

(There’s also a whole tangent there comparing Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince to So High School and how fraught the first is vs the lightness of this one.)

That’s why this isn’t just a breakup album. It’s why she dredges up 2016 and Jake and Aaron’s son and childhood and high school and any other number of things. Because she has spent her entire youth and adulthood grappling with the issues that came to roost in TTPD, and while this whole experience underscores that you can never know what’s going on with someone (least of all Taylor, a stranger to us all), I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that she has stressed how much healthier and whole she is now. That is why this whole album is a bloodletting, but it’s not just about a broken relationship. It’s about a whole belief system that has stolen girlhood from her and she’s determined to piece back together in the aftermath of the autopsy.

[noihavenosanitythanksforasking]

ableism in mha

okay so i was scrolling and i came across this post and it helped me reorganize a lot of thoughts ive been thinking sense i first started mha. ive always been not a fan of izuku getting ofa in the first place as it felt to me as it almost completely erased any meaning of his backstory. it felt like such a plot armor/mary sue moment but in the end i got over it, assuming that most likely he would loose it at one point (i was right but we'll get to that later).

after he enters UA its almost as if his entire past is just like- not important?? i have plenty of hcs about his suppressed trauma and if you read into a lot of the situations he goes thru in the manga i can see it but is not blatantly said/expressed that he struggles with a complex from how he was treated as a child.

in the end mha becomes a manga mostly focused on some sort of version of not judging a person by their cover. The fact that a technically "villainous" quirk does not make someone a bad person.

now ofc this is totally true. no one should be overlooked or declined rights or decency because of the quirk they have. this lesson is a valid one.

the analogy i have made up in my head is this.

people who are born with "hero-like" or "useful" quirks, for example: bakugou, todoroki, hawks etc are beautiful people

(for the context of this metaphor ignore the fact that beauty is complex and is in the eye of the beholder just roll with me)

and then you have the people with "useless" or average quirks that are just average people

and then you have people like toga or shinsou with quirks that are seen as inherently dangerous. quirks that are unable to be used for good. those are the ugly people.

now obviously we shouldnt discriminate people just because society says they are ugly. there is no doubt in that and it is a tragedy that it happened and still happens.

however

20% of the population cannot even fall onto this scale. the quirkless. aka the disabled. they are not even seen as being worth a label on the scale because they are so disgusting and strange that no one wants to remember yhey exist.

i wouldnt be as upset by the lack of talk about quirkless people if izuku wasnt quirkless, if the first arc of mha wasnt izuku struggling with the fact that no one in the world cares about him but his mom and that not even her believes he can achieve anything because of his disability.

the whole set up was izuku wanted to be a hero DESPITE his disability. even though truly he thought it was impossible. he didnt work out, he didnt try and do anything to become a hero because he believed everyone was right. that what society had been telling him his whole life was true and he couldnt be a hero. but he wanted to despite that. that was the hook of mha. at least for me.

a bullied lonely boy with a disability achieves his dream despite society. despite being told at every turn that he couldnt do it. he said he can and he does.

but thats not what happened at all.

instead some pillar of all that is heroic drops down from the sky and magically cures his disability. and suddenly hes just a normal kid.

and suddenly we forget all about midoriya izuku and how hard it is to be quirkless. how much quirkless people struggle. how many of them must commit suicide because of yhe seeming completely normalized harassment of them in everyday life.

and i dont want to blame izuku for this because in the end hes a kid with trauma who just wants to fit in. its frankly quite obvious that he whole heartedly agrees with bakugou and everyone else from his past that yeah quirkless people are useless.

the way he treated Melissa in the movie broke my heart. he belittled her like it was second nature and while he obviously had no malicious feelings toward her because of her quirklessness he sees her as a second class citizen. hes surprised that she is able to achieve things despite her disability. that she manages to be happy in a world where she isnt "normal".

and again in the long run i dont truly blame izuku for feeling this way. like everyone he is a product of his environment.

again, however:

i do blame horikoshi

do we need to be nicer to people with villainous quirks: yes ofc

but your manga isnt about that. your manga is about someone whose seen as even less than that. you can address both issues.

having bakugou break down about izuku becoming quirkless was good but that was pretty much all we got.

and what happenes when izuku looses ofa?? he gives up on being a hero.

how the hell does that make sense

everyone in japan knows this boys name. he is considered a top hero. and he just drops off the face the hero scene?

hatsume exists??? izukus face has been in her boobs TWICE for gods sake. yaoyorozu can make things out of thin and are they had to wait 8 years.

izuku is too smart to not think of that.

it would take hatsume 3 days max.

and ignoring that whole point again hori is pushing the idea that bakugou and everyone from aldera were CORRECT. that yeah u were right to think the quirkless of useless cause like they cant do anything :3c

izuku has had NO growth this whole manga. all hes learned is how to hit things how to kick things and awww kacchan sad :(((.

nothing about believing in himself. nothing about how he can be a hero despite the odds. nothing even about the power of friendship helping him to overcome.

im just like wtf hori.

[lilibethdrawsreylo]

For my fellow Cullen-enjoyers, here's his POV from the first chapter of the fic I'm working on.

Water in the shaving bowl had frozen solid overnight. Over his years away from Ferelden, Cullen had forgotten how treacherous the weather in the mountains could be, even in spring. He’d have to see that his soldiers had extra heating runes to go between them, be it that Cullen himself was waking up drenched in sweat most mornings. He hadn’t touched lyrium since he came to command the late Divine’s forces and had a few months still before its song would become all-consuming. He only heard it in his dreams for now, boiling slowly like a frog. Foregoing the armor for a leather doublet for the time being, Cullen yanked aside the waxed flap of his tent. The camp under Haven’s logged walls remained quiet save for distant calls of watchmen, but the village’s lakeside gates were already ajar, with tavern folk going to-and-fro in preparation for the day’s first meal. Unnoticed without the steel and his red cloak, the Commander walked past bubbling cauldrons of barley tended to by yawning kitchen boys. He was soon stepping through snow that hadn’t yet been trampled on nor melted by bonfires. Cullen lowered himself to one knee near the lake shore, cupped the pristine snow in his ungloved hands, and put his face into it. For a blissful moment, the memory of lyrium’s blue humm was banished from his mind. He rubbed his palms down his cheeks as droplets of water trickled along his wrists. Before him, the black expanse of ice was starting to turn gray; as the dawn finally broke, he saw her. Cullen had watched her in the war room and when demons were falling from the sky, but it was like he’d never seen her before, the fine halo of hair aglow with the sun, blooming like a snowdrop between a fir’s raised roots. The Herald of Andraste. He understood it now. How he ended up near her, Maker knew, although those were Cullen’s boots that left tracks in the icy crust. He came to his senses upon approaching the lone tree she was sitting by, at the shore’s very edge. She’d been crying, Cullen could clearly tell, and now sat perched on a protruding root with her knees to her chest, letting the cold bite her reddened face. She gasped as she noticed his intrusion, and Cullen sighed to himself. Trust him to act like an oaf. “Forgive me, Lady Trevelyan,” he said, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” “That’s alright,” she replied after a moment’s pause. “I was about to go back.” The lady looked up at him expectantly, and Cullen guessed to offer her his hand. He shivered when they touched. Were her fingers that chilled, or did his skin run too hot? As their hands parted again, Cullen reached for the clasp of his cloak—the cloak that was still in his tent. He… couldn’t very well present her with his doublet, could he? He wouldn’t dare. As they set out toward Haven, the lady kept her jaw tight lest her teeth begin to chatter.  “I thought I’d keep it to myself,” she eventually spoke, “but being called ‘Lady Trevelyan’ is about as odd as ‘Herald.’ My mother’s Lady Trevelyan.” “Oh. Lady Evelyn, then?” Cullen suggested, but she shook her head, small as a snowdrop beneath the green-tinged heavens. “I’d much rather just be Evelyn.”

As always, I plan to write the whole thing before posting to AO3. This one is most likely going to be long, so I can't tell when that will be - but I'm excited to share small excerpts here. :D

[zapreportsblog]

↱ a love that ignites ↰

➘ summary : Nobara Kugisak and her boyfriend are the it couple everyone dreams to be

➘ nobara kugisak x fem reader version

➘ Nobara Kugisak x male reader, jjk x reader

Nobara Kugisaki walked through the crowded halls of Jujutsu High, her confident stride catching the attention of everyone around her. Her striking beauty and fierce demeanor made her an unforgettable presence. But it wasn't just her appearance that drew the gaze of the students; it was her relationship with the enigmatic and charming (m/n) that had everyone talking.

(m/n) was the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went. With his unruly hair and easy smile, he exuded an aura of casual confidence that intrigued and charmed everyone who crossed his path. Together, Nobara and (m/n) formed a couple that seemed almost unreal – like characters from a fairytale.

Their relationship had blossomed from a deep friendship, a connection that felt as if it was fated to be. They had met during their first year at Jujutsu High and quickly became inseparable. Nobara's fiery determination perfectly complemented (m/n)'s laid-back attitude, creating a harmonious balance that seemed to defy the odds.

Word of their relationship had spread like wildfire throughout the school. Students whispered about their sweet moments in between classes, stolen glances exchanged across the room, and the way their laughter could light up even the gloomiest of days. Nobara and (m/n) had become the epitome of the "it" couple – the kind of couple others looked up to and secretly envied.

Their chemistry was undeniable. Whether it was during training sessions, where they pushed each other to become better jujutsu sorcerers, or during quieter moments when they shared their dreams and fears, their bond only grew stronger. It was as if they were two halves of a whole, each complementing the other's strengths and weaknesses effortlessly.

But, of course, being the center of attention came with its fair share of challenges. Rumors circulated about their relationship, and jealousy reared its ugly head from time to time. Yet, through it all, Nobara and (m/n) remained steadfast in their love, unbothered by the noise around them. Their connection was unbreakable – a force that seemed to defy the odds.

As they walked hand in hand through the school courtyard, the sun setting in the distance, Nobara couldn't help but steal a glance at (m/n) and smile. Their journey had been far from ordinary, but it was uniquely theirs. The world may have idealized them as the perfect couple, but their love was real, imperfect, and utterly beautiful.

The vibrant autumn leaves rustled overhead as Nobara and (m/n) found a quiet spot under the shade of a sprawling cherry blossom tree. The soft petals that had fallen earlier added a touch of enchantment to their surroundings, mirroring the magic that seemed to follow them wherever they went.

Nobara leaned against the tree, her gaze fixed on (m/n) as he spoke animatedly about his latest jujutsu training session. She watched as his eyes lit up with passion, his hands gesturing in the air as he recounted his experiences. Her heart swelled with admiration for his dedication and the way he pursued his dreams with unwavering determination.

As he paused, catching his breath and giving her an expectant look, Nobara chuckled softly. "You're really something, you know that? Your enthusiasm is contagious."

(m/n) grinned, his warm eyes meeting hers. "Well, someone's gotta keep things interesting, right?"

She nudged him playfully, her smile a mix of fondness and teasing. "Don't get too cocky now. I think I'm doing a pretty good job of that myself."

Their laughter danced in the air, the melody of a relationship that was built on shared moments, mutual respect, and a genuine sense of camaraderie. They could be themselves around each other, embracing their quirks and idiosyncrasies without reservation.

As the conversation shifted to their plans for the weekend, Nobara found herself lost in thought. How had she gotten so lucky? To have found someone who not only understood her ambitions and fears but also encouraged her to embrace them fully. (m/n) had a way of making her feel like she was capable of conquering anything that came her way.

The setting sun cast a warm glow over their faces, creating an ethereal aura that seemed to encapsulate the essence of their relationship. Nobara turned to (m/n), her eyes searching his as she spoke softly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity.

"You know, I've always been a bit of a firecracker. But with you, I've found my anchor. You ground me, (m/n). You make me believe in myself in a way that I never thought possible."

(m/n)'s gaze held hers, his expression tender and unwavering. "And you do the same for me, Nobara. You're like a flame that burns bright and fiercely. You remind me to keep pushing forward, to embrace life's challenges head-on."

Their fingers intertwined, a silent affirmation of the unspoken promises they had made to each other. They were partners, allies in a world that often felt chaotic and uncertain. Together, they navigated the ups and downs, finding strength in each other's presence.

As the first stars appeared in the darkening sky, (m/n) gently brushed a strand of hair away from Nobara's face. "No matter what comes our way, we'll face it together. That's a promise."

Nobara smiled, her heart fluttering with a mix of emotions. "Promise, huh? You better keep that one."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a testament to the depth of their connection, a reminder that their love was a constant, unwavering force that would stand the test of time.

And as they sat beneath the cherry blossom tree, the world around them faded into the background. In that moment, it was just Nobara and (m/n), two souls bound by a love that ignited their hearts and illuminated their path forward.

[schnitzelsemmerl]

A RtC fic, but Ocean votes for herself. Or she doesn't.

Karnak's loud voice boomed through all purgatory, "Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg. Your vote?"

Ocean stepped forward, nervous. The tension in the room was so thick it coud've been cut with a knife. The room waited in anticipation. There was the light. She could walk through. Into the living realm. Everything would be forgotten...or atleast she hoped so. Mischa glared, as did Noel, who whispered "Don't you mess this up", his voice laced with venom. Constance looked down at the floor, her hands resting in her lap. Ocean could see a single, small tear roll down her flushed cheeks. Ricky was next to Constance's right, patting her on the back in supportive manner. And Jane- no, that... freaky monster, was staring at Ocean with her black doll eyes, clutching her headless doll. No emotion behind her- no, its eyes.

Stay strong, Ocean. You can't feel empathy for them now. This is your chance. Your new shot at life. You could accomplish everything you dreamed of. Like becoming the prime minister of Canada. Setting an example. Bettering the world. Be known.

"Your vote, Miss Rosenberg?"

But what if you didn't choose yourself? What would happen then? Who would get your vote? Now that Ocean thought about it... she had never really thought about that. Every story had a lesson.. why didn't she ever listen to the others' stories?

Constance, who was obviously known as the nicest girl in town. But she was so much more. Constance loved to bake. She loved flowers, too. Especially tulips. She dyed her hair a different color every month. Ocean hated that. But what she'd give to be alive one more time. To see Constance alive too. One last time.

Noel, who was pretty much her frenemy. Yet despite all that, she... liked him. Not in a romantic sense. Not even in a platonic sense. She liked the way he saw the world. The way he sang. The way he was passionate about things that brought him joy. The way his handwriting looked like it came straight out of a love letter. Ocean hated the way she could never get away from Noel. And he hated that fact even more. But deep down... she'd do everything to be alive and bicker with him about something minor, something that didn't even matter, again.

Mischa, who was forced to join the choir. She honestly couldn't stand the way he'd start fights. The way he brushed his hair to make it stand up like that. But she grew to like it, for some weird reason. Ocean admired Mischa's passion. His hardworking nature, how he wasn't afraid to stand up for himself. He also stood up for her, he punched a girl from Ocean's AP Calc class who called her a prude. Her. Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg. He didn't have to. But he did it. For some ominous reason. She had to pick him. He had a whole fiancée to live for.

Ricky. The most creative person Ocean ever had the pleasure of meeting. He listened. He was creative, kind, a "cool dude", who was "madwickedawesome", as Mischa would say. Ocean missed how Ricky would always draw cats on the sheet music when they were supposed to be rehearsing. She missed how he would wear funky-colored sweaters every day. At one point, he owned about 20 different ones. She'd give everything to read Ricky's stories about Zolar one more time, despite being grossed out before. It was still weird to her. But strangely, she missed that.

And...her. The unidentified girl.

Ocean couldn't pick herself. No.

"Miss Rosenberg." Karnak spoke, interrupting Ocean's thoughts. "Time is running out."

Why did she ever take everything for granted?

The ominous novelty machine began to count, "10."

She didn’t deserve to come back to life.

"9."

Who should she pick?

"8."

It had to be someone else. And she needed to make that decision NOW.

"7."

They had to tell her story too.

"6."

They had to tell the choir's stories. She didn’t care if she would ever be remembered. But she couldn't let the others be forgotten.

"5."

Ocean wishes, she would've known this before.

"4."

She wishes she had known that there is no way to control who lives, who dies, and who tells one's story.

"3," Karnak's voice began to quiet down. The machine began to rattle.

Think, Ocean! Pick someone...

"2," he spoke, the gears in his mechanical body turned and malfunctioned audibly. Ocean cringed at the sound of metal screeching.

But who?

"1," the magic machine uttered. Everything turned dark. Karnak was broken, beyond repair.

Ocean softly breathed, "Her. I vote... for her." She pointed at a confused Jane.

But her decision was made a split second too late.

[marcynomercy]

Fate written in blood

I wanted to write a fanfic of Calamity and Carnifex for a while so I took courage and did it, hope you enjoy reading.

Thank you @tragedybunny for beta-reading.

Summary: The blood has always been her way until the day that fate changed, After being kidnapped by mind flayers and the fall of the Nautiloid Calamity had a new opportunity for freedom and strangely her fate crossed with that of Astarion when the elf put that dagger around her neck. 

 Their fate until now was written by others, but now they would write with their own hands in blood. 

Warnings: Violence, blood, game events, mentions of trauma, distress/comfort, mention of abuse. (That’s it for now)

Ship: Astarion and Calamity (Tav), Shadowheart and Carniex (Tav), mentions of other characters.

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 - The beginning of a bond

Freedom was just a dream, a dream she still cherished and strangely came true in a distorted way. It became reality in the form of a capsule being opened and the shock of her body on the floor.

 A pain in her head and the knowledge that there was a tadpole in her brain... nothing comes for free does it? 

 The first thing she did was look at the capsules looking for her twin brother, maybe he was kidnapped too? Unfortunately, she did not succeed.

 After the fall of the Nautiloid, Calamity awoke for the second time, by the gods she really thought it was her end but strangely fate had other plans as always. 

 She did not hesitate to look for her brother even after the fall, she looked body by body, wreckage by wreckage...nothing. But on the contrary she met the cleric  who had helped before, her sudden infusion of kindness had good results  and so her group began to increase.

 Shadowheart was the first to join her on this journey and then soon after came that strange familiar pale elf who left a beautiful first impression... a blade against her neck. Her response was a headbutt.

 After the misunderstanding was explained he apologized.

"Excuses accepted, if I were in your place I would have done the same." That was her answer. “My name is Calamity.”  She introduced herself.

"A somewhat ominous name for such a cute person, well I’m sure your parents meant well." The elf joked. "My name is Astarion."

 So Astarion joined them.

 He saw her circling the ship freely as he tried to find a way to escape, but he noticed that strangely she seemed to be looking for someone. At first he deduced that she was looking for Shadowheart, but soon fell off the idea seeing how she was still looking for that person; given the way she looked at the bodies with fear and then with relief mixed with disappointment. Calamity did that until they had nothing left to scour just a wounded mind flayer trapped by rubble, that thing tried to control them, but it was too weak so they managed to resist. They were angry, so much anger and hatred for a nasty creature like that... so worried about becoming one of them.

 They could not think about it, they had to forget at least for a moment and continue. 

 In a few hours the group recruited two more members, Gale of Waterdeep and the warrior githyanki Lae'zel who was already known to the girls. 

 Lae'zel was adamant and insisted on looking for the creche, Calamity on the other hand agreed with Shadowheart as to be wary and distrustful of githyanki so she tried to handle the situation as best she can.

"We already understand your point Lae'zel, but at the moment we do not have the resources for this. We need a place to set up camp, supplies and most importantly investigate this whole situation. There is something wrong and if we want to survive we need this information, so yes we will look for this creche and get its location meanwhile nothing prevents us from looking for answers, do you not agree?" One talent that Calamity cultivated and honed was persuasion and it fit her like a glove at that point.

 Astarion was surprised how she was a smooth talker and a good sense of survival, he decided if he wanted to survive he should focus on her.

"In fact we don’t have a defined leader here right? In that case I think our dear Calamity would be perfect for that role." Astarion wasted no time in ensuring his target the most important role, all for the sake of his well-being.

Calamity stared at him in disbelief.

"Me what?!" she protested in shock.

"Well he’s not wrong, you seem to have skills for it given the way you handled it well during our short period on the nautiloid and now after the crash." Shadowheart commented thoughtfully. "Actually for me it doesn’t matter who would actually be the leader, but that you were nominated I won’t be against it."

"I don’t see any problems either." Gale also agreed.

"Tsk, if you’re all for her leadership, I won’t question it... for now. Better prove yourself worthy of that role."

 Still stunned as everyone simply pushed her to the leadership, Calamity just sighed and nodded.

"Okay, okay... so let’s move on." She just took the lead and they moved on.

 Astarion smiled, pleased. The first part of his plan was a success now he just needed to conquer the rest of it which didn’t seem to be difficult for him. 

 Well, that’s what he thought.

 For the rest of the day he tried to approach her, but either Calamity ignored him or she just replied disinterested... How frustrating! 

 He took it out during the fight in front of the gates on those filthy goblins, it was good to kill something for a change, but then he saw that Calamity wasn’t just a pretty face. She beheaded the goblins as if they were nothing, her attacks were swift, agile and precise. It always focused on the vital, simple and practical points. This was no amateur skill, Astarion’s sharp eyes realized it was the skill of a professional, trained assassin. Calamity until now was a box of surprises for him, since they went from plunder this crypt to pacifying an argument between a tiefling and a human, knocking out the human with a punch to finding an improbable clue just because of a mistrust. He noticed the way her eyes ran around the place analyzing everything and that she was suspicious about something, then she tried to be a little too curious and quickly managed to sneak behind the stone shelves of one of the rooms by finding a chest with a suspicious letter addressed to Kagha.

But just as she proved to be very suspicious and cautious, she showed herself to have a terribly naive side! - dumb and stupid being more sincere. 

 Astarion was incredulous when she trusted the druid Nettie and being poisoned by her, but again Calamity saved herself with her lip and got the antidote along with some answers and her best bet was the druid Halsin... then another stupid decision, accept the poison Nettie gave.

"You know I’m starting to think you’re an idiot! You should have denied the poison!" Calamity stared with a serious look.

"I did it to spare us a possible confrontation unnecessarily and she would only let us go if I accepted and if the genius did not notice she locked us there with magic! And we gain a potent poison it can be useful in future battles." She seemed to have thought of everything.

"Well that doesn’t justify your stupid decision to trust her first!"

"Yes it was a stupid decision, but what could I do? I had to risk it and at least we had some productive result in this, never heard that the ends justify the means?" Her voice had a sarcastic tone and it irritated him.

"I can’t believe she poisoned you, tried to put you down like a dying dog without as much as a whisper of consent!" Gale was quicker in expressing his outrage.

"She gave up at the end." Calamity replied.

"Yes! But that doesn’t change the fact! How dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?!"

"Are you all right, Gale?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. It’s just that, had it been me…Had it been… But you handled it, and you handled it well! As for myself, I could quite do with a tumbler full of Waterdeep Whiskey."

 He really showed concern so she smiled sweetly at him in response.

"Oh, so you’re the kind of guy who prefers whiskey? That’s good to know, but I think at the end of today no one here would deny a drink." The way she spoke almost sounded like flirting, at least to Astarion’s ears.

 The elf crossed his arms bored while they talked, it was decided that it would be better to find a place to camp and close the day.

  The camp was set up. It was a tiring day, Calamity lightly massaged her strained shoulder after taking off the leather shoulder pad. Waking up on a devastated beach, recruiting one by one her new companions for that group, being chosen as a leader, plundering a crypt where you had a weird skeleton that was now in your camp, killing some goblins, being poisoned by a druid... She went over the day in her mind as she counted every event on her fingers, a tired sigh escapes from her mouth before she lies in her sleeping bag. 

"Where are you brother?" she muttered covering her face with her hands.

 Maybe he wasn’t kidnapped... so what would she do? Her mind starts spinning, she tried to focus her thoughts. Come on she needed to think of a plan! Wait... when did her mind get so clear? Was it the tadpole? Since she woke up in the Nautiloid she did not feel that weight that excessive fear caused her, the tadpole suppressed it?

Of course the same was still with her, but he did not control her anymore. Calamity smiled taking advantage of this relief, no anxiety, fear or panic... just a brief moment of tranquility. She gave herself the luxury of enjoying two minutes and then began to worry again, they will surely come after her.

"I don’t want to go back, but I can’t leave him..." She swallowed the cry.

 She was free, but her brother wasn’t.

 This brief moment of relief was taken by anguish, she could only hope that he is not suffering because of her. If she comes back maybe they’ll never have a chance to be free, she looked at the group through the small crack in the fabric of her tent’s entrance, she also had to worry about them now.

 Her hands searched for blank book pages she had found, if she wanted to do that she needed to write it down! That’s how she started this diary, noting possible missions and progress and of course a way to vent alone. Calamity wrote everything, her advances of the day, the discoveries, hypotheses, theories, ideas for future plans and finally what she felt. 

"It’s weird, I’ve never felt so good after so long... am I wrong? All this seems like a distorted dream from which I hope not to wake up, still not sure if my brother was kidnapped or not since I did not find any trace of him. I don’t know if I feel relief or regret for not finding him, on the one hand I’m happy because if he wasn’t kidnapped it means he wasn’t infected but at the same time I feel anguish because it means he was alone... I miss him."

She wrote with her anguished heart so she soon closed the diary and left it aside when she realized that someone came to her tent.

"Gale made dinner and I came to warn you." It was Shadowheart.

"Thank you, I’m starving." she replies putting on her social mask again and coming out of the attempt. " We’re lucky to have someone with culinary skills with us." She smiled and walked to the campfire beside the cleric 

That first night together as a group was... quite a bit distant, Gale after dinner stood watching the fire and shared his pessimistic thoughts full of reality shock. " There’s nothing abstract about it" was what he said, Calamity understood his point but all he could offer were words. She then spoke to Astarion who expressed just as everyone else had how serious Gale was and later commented how new it was to him.

"The night normally means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is… a little novel."

"I confess that all this is strange to me, it’s the first time I’m away from the city but we need to take a chance after all we have a lot to do tomorrow."

"You mentioned that you were from Baldur’s Gate and I couldn’t ignore your abilities." She just got serious staring at him. "No need to look at me like that, what I mean is that I noticed that you are someone capable. Well I’m no place to rest yet, today has been a lot. I need some time to think things through to process this, you rest I’ll keep watch."

"If you say so, I’ll sleep quietly knowing there’s someone watching."

"The pleasure is all mine. Sweet dreams."

 She walked away and Astarion kept  his eyes on her, a single measure of her abilities made her alert, he was no idiot and knew that if he angered her, it could be his end tonight. Although it left him more intrigued by the minute, thinking he might have met her earlier wouldn’t make sense, but he still had that impression rooted in his mind... where he saw those eyes before? Her eyes are unique, the left eye sapphire blue and the right eye red this combination is not seen every day around. 

 He saw her talking to the other half-elf and then she returned to the tent, this matter occupied him for the rest of the night along with his hunger.

Well that’s it! Thank you for reading the first chapter.

@spacebarbarianweird @spacesquidlings@thechaoticdruid

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 340: A Saturday at Melissa's. p15 (11:18 pm)

I was laying in Melissa’s lap, her hand idly stroking my hair as we were apparently waiting for someone to bring me a cup of milk. She wanted to settle my stomach before bed, and forgive me I was just so enthralled by this gorgeous young woman (and exhausted by my evening) that I didn’t complain at all. Yeah, it was emasculating, embarrassing, even infantilizing, the treatment I was receiving. Certainly it was not the actions and behavior a semi-successful, almost-middle-aged physician should be engaging in around his employees. This whole day - though for some reason I only seemed to  remember  bits and pieces of it, - was full of misbehavior. But,goddamnit, I’d had a tough couple months so I was, uh…allowing myself these indulgences. After my divorce, these young women were becoming my friends, my new, uh, social circle. Melissa was a simple girl, and I thought I should be able to enjoy the simple pleasures she could provide and the, um, benefits of my new friends. That’s, at least, what I was telling myself. In reality the memories of even just the last hour or so in Melissa’s bed made my skin crawl a bit. What had she just done with me?? I knew she was strong but…whoah. 

Since I’d woken she’d cleaned me up, dutifully, using some of the wet wipes she kept in her side table. She’d allowed me to gather some sheets around myself, in a modesty that she would call silly. Someone was on their way up and the last thing they needed to see was their boss naked, right? Melissa was still in her thin white robe, pulled tight over her young, bulging chest.

It was Shanette that came in, finally, with mug of milk in a strangely familiar pink mug. She shut the door behind herself, the latch clicking softly. In a set of pink pajamas, decorated with red hearts, she looked our way and smiled warmly. “Are you guys ready?” she asked, and began to step towards us. 

“Yes!!” Melissa sang, wriggling a bit in her seat against the headboard of her queen-sized bed. She adjusted me on her lap a bit, sitting me up a touch. I brought my hands down to the sheets, making sure I was still covered.

“I brought a nice warm cup of milk for youuuuu…!” Shanette cooed, in a little song herself that already began to indulge my deepest fantasies. Shanette, more than any of the others, embodied a maternal charm that struck some deep chords within  me. They were notes so many women around me were learning to play, but Shanette knew the tune well already, and with her now being more than six feet tall at this point and built nearly as bosomy as Melissa, it made her music hard to ignore. She was, just like Melissa, a dream girl to men of this new generation, who all seemed eager to relax, regress and let mommy take over. What she and her new boyfriend did together? I shudder to think. 

She handed the mug to me. It was warm, as if it had been heated for me and it read, “It’s Not Easy Being Queen” on its side…again something that jogged a memory. But I didn’t have too long to muse on Melissa’s Mom’s coffee mug collection before - one hand behind my head for support, the other under the mug - Melissa urged the milk towards my lips. Laying in her lap like I was, I was sort of in an awkward position to drink but she was here to help. 

Mmmmmm it smelled nice, the warm milk, and once more a sense of deja vu hit me. I felt the sudden, unconscious urge to take a nice big drink opening my mouth wide only to be stymied before I could even get a taste. 

“Little sips until it cools,” Melissa stopped me, hand taking hold of the mug from below. 

“Yes hun don’t burn yourself,” Shanette agreed, looking down at us from the bedside. She and Melissa shared a glance, and it was only when I nodded in understanding that Melissa slowly released her hold on the cup.

More carefully, now, I put lips to rim, tilted the mug up, and took a tentative sip. Mmmmm wow, it tasted great. Like, somehow, just what I needed. A familiar taste, an unusual brand maybe, something with a particular type of sweetness. Immediately I wanted more. I looked up at Melissa. “I-it’s not that hot…” I said.

“Shhh,” Melissa said, her hand once again under the mug to help guide it, “Just be careful.” She let me take a sip, a drink, and then under her and Shanette’s dutiful gaze I braved a small gulp. 

I spilled a bit. 

“Tsk tsk,” came Melissa’s little scold, as she used the hem of her robe to dab my lips and chin. I shrank a bit in embarrassment in her lap as she took the mug in hand again. 

“Do you want to help me feed it to him?” Melissa asked Shanette. 

“Of course!”

“I-I’m okay..” I immediately protested, though Shanette had already begun to climb onto the bed anyway. First with one knee, then the other.  

“Here why don’t we use this…” she suggested, reaching back and taking hold of the plastic straw in the old cup of milk on the nightstand leftover from last night. As she turned, twisting at the waist and causing her pajama top to bunch and tighten around her chest, I was able to appreciate the size of her big breasts. She turned back around, slid the straw into the mug of milk, and Melissa presented it to me again. I looked up at her. 

“That’s right, sweetie,” Melissa urged, “Suck.”

“Suck?” I asked. 

“Suck,” answered Shanette, crawling in closer to us and leaning in now, directing the straw to my lips. The little red hearts of her silken pajamas were right in front of my eyes, stretched tautly over twin swells. She was obviously braless, with the faintest hint of a nipple poking through the thin fabric. Cleavage of chocolate skin peeked out from her neckline, beckoning softly. Her buttons strained to contain her, gaps appearing between each of them with slivers of shadowed, deeper cleavage tempting me further. So much boob, but if I turned to my right I was faced with even more - Melissa’s enormous chest ballooned above me in her white robe. 

And so I sucked, mmmmm, the warm milk through the straw, enjoying its creamy sweetness that tasted like a memory. When had I grown to like milk so much? Something you’ve taught me, I guess. 

Suck, suck, suck. I pulled eagerly at my drink, cheeks collapsing around the straw in suction. With nowhere else to look my eyes drifted naturally from the chests of Shanette to Melissa and back again. Suck, suck, suck. 

“There you go, that’s a good boy for Auntie Shanette,” Melissa would coo, when my eyes went forward to the stretched red hearts.  

“…and for Melissa…” said Shanette, when I looked back and up. 

“…for all of us, for me,” continued Melissa, “for your big mommy-girlfriend.”

At that, my eyes went wide, my mouth parting from around the straw. Shanette giggled, chest jiggling, and reached in to caress my cheek. 

“Tell him, Missy,” she said. 

Melissa giggled herself. “That’s what I want to be,” Melissa purred, fingers lazily caressing my hair, my scalp, the back of my head, “your mommy girlfriend. Do you know what that means? 

“You do, don’t you?” Shanette queried. Yes, it was a common trope these days, one you read about frequently. Just a look at Urban Dictionary will tell you that a mommy-girlfriend is a woman that dates men who love being treated like an incapable child. These men are treated to home cooked meals, their clothes are bought or picked out for them, their rent is paid and food is served to them on a silver platter. When she gets home from work  she uses her seemingly  endless available time to listen to his problems and concerns and makes sure that her boy-man is taken care of. To me, it seemed that more and more women were desperate to find secure love and were happy providing this sort of affection to these immature men. Being fully supported and controlled by a woman can make a man feel safe, and in these weird times it’s probable that they’d never leave.

“I, uh, yeah…” I agreed, shamefacedly. Was this me? Was this her?

They both saw the confusion on my face. “I want to teach you how to accept it,” Melissa offered gently, “Shanette’s here to help.”

“Wh-wh-??” I tried, failing to really comprehend what was going on.

“Shhhh, hun,” Shanette stopped me, moving the straw back to my lips, “Drink up.”

And so, with a bit more anxiety forming on my brow, I set back to sucking. More milk, more warm milk filled my mouth and fed me sweetly. The girls, for their part, cooed and clucked down at me dreamily, surrounding me with their softness and entrancing perfumes. I knew Melissa and Shanette had been roommates in the past. Was this something they’d done before? With other men? Was this some sort of weird, intimate game of theirs?

“You’re getting close to done now, aren’t you sweetie?” Melissa asked, as the mug had grown light. 

“I think he is,” answered Shanette. 

“I think it’s so sexy,” continued Melissa, with a crinkled nose and dimpled smile, “watching you drink breastmilk.”

I sputtered, I goggled, I looked up at Shanette.

“Shhh shhh shh…it’s not hers..!” Melissa laughed. My eyes got even wider and shot up to her with even greater fear.  “Or haha, omigod mine!”  

Jesus!!! Her assurance brought me some thin relief that nonetheless quickly vaporized. What the actual fuck! What…whose…had I been drinking?!?

“It’s Katarina’s,” Melissa explained, voice calm, “And don’t worry, you’ve had some before…”

?!!? Gah what?!?! 

“Don’t you remember?” Shanette giggled.

“N-n-no..!” I sputtered, “I honestly don’t!” But, wait…did I?

“You really liked it…”

“When did-?”

“Earlier tonight, sweetie,” Melissa continued patiently, “when you were a little out of sorts, you took a little taste.”

“From…?!?” Please don’t tell me that I…!

“...from a mug, this same one..!” Melissa laughed, “Don’t worry!”

“Lots of us did haha!” Shanette followed, “The girl makes enough to feed a whole family. We had to try it!”

”But, I have to say,” Melissa smiled, “you seemed the most eager, little man…”

“Oh my god…” What the?!!? What had come over me? Had I been drunk?? Why couldn’t I really recall-

“Maybe somebody took some video…”

“And Kat really liked seeing you drink it,” Shanette said, “All the other girls loved it too.” 

”Especially me!” Melissa sang, joggling me on her lap, up and down, “It gives me so many fun ideas…” She giggled, she wiggled her chest at me.

I realized, laying there, how much I had become the shrunken recipient for all of their heightened maternal impulses, for all of these mommy-urges women were apparently getting everywhere. Yes, yes, this was the trend in the world, the hot new thing, and apparently I was becoming a victim of fashion. What the fuck was I supposed to do? It was, in the end, ridiculous but…jesus…so fucking hot.

Shanette and Melissa urged me to drink more.

“It’ll make you big and strong.”

“Or small and skinny.”

“Haha omigod shorter…”

“…weaker…”

“…tiny…”

“…just like we want you!! <giggle!>”

Oh, lord. Yes, they were just joking but goddddd. Suck suck suck. They were joking they were joking they were just joking but my heart beat red in my face.

Finally, I was done. The girls, apparently, were satisfied. Shanette took the mug, turned again to put it on the nightstand.

Melissa stroked my bare chest. ”So,” she asked me, “Bedtime?”

Before I could answer, though, Shanette had leaned in to whisper something to Melissa. Her eyes widened a moment later, and they both looked down at me and giggled. 

What’s going on? “What’s going o-?”

Suddenly, I was forced silent as Melissa raised a finger to her lips and gave me a shushing motion from above, peering down at me in good humor. Good humor that made her eyes sparkle when she saw how easily she’d shushed me.

“Go brush your teeth,” she told me, already moving to help me sit up onto the mattress from her lap, “You can use the one in my bathroom.”

My eyes went wide again. “G-go brush my teeth? With y-your toothbrush?” I responded as I sat, repeating her instructions like a small child struggling with what he was told to do, simple as it was.

A brief laugh came from them then a bigger smile formed on Melissa’s face. “I would brush your teeth myself to make sure they’re cleaned properly,” she said, in her best house-frau voice, “but I’m holding back…for now.” She watched my face. Yes, I’m listening. “But you are to brush, floss and use mouthwash.”

“Ok, but…” I looked at Shanette, I looked down at myself, I looked across the room to where the bathroom lay. Then I looked back at Melissa. “I’m naked.”

The girls both giggled. 

“It’s okay, hun,” Shanette offered, “I’ll close my eyes.” Mischief wrinkling her dimpled cheeks, she lowered her long-lashed lids and put her hands over her eyes. 

“Now go. Scoot,” Melissa directed me, pulling back the sheets and exposing me as she pushed at my lower back from behind, “Go brush your teeth. It’s bedtime.”

Hopping off the mattress - god, my feet don’t even touch the floor - I jogged across the room towards Melissa’s en-suite bathroom, my half-thickened cock slapping awkwardly against my thighs. 

“No peeking!” I heard Melissa scold her friend from behind me, and the two dissolved into frisky giggles.

Once in the bathroom I immediately grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around my waist, and soon I had found her toothbrush, some toothpaste, and I was scrubbing away. It didn’t, strangely, strike me as too odd that I was using someone else’s toothbrush. Normally: yuck, right? But maybe after all I’d been through, this was just a small irregularity. In fact…can I taste you on it? It…it felt nice, using her brush.

Anyway, maybe because I thought they were watching me (they told me not to close the door) I felt extra motivated to do a good job. Brush brush brush, brush brush brush. And then - floss, floss, floss. I never flossed, but tonight I did. And then - garglegarglegargle - mouthwash! Haha, done.

I stepped back out of the bathroom, confident in my newly cleaned oral cavity, and froze. They were both kneeling on the bed, facing me, side by side. Shanette’s top was unbuttoned, Melissa’s robe undone. They were posing, enormous chests presented. I was just in a towel, and fuck I was getting hard again. 

“Come here, baby,” Melissa cooed.

“We need to check…” said Shanette.

“… that you did a good job,” finished Melissa.

Slowly, I stepped towards them. They waited, each unmoving, and looked down at me when I found the mattress’ edge. It was like two impossibly built, statuesque genetic supergoddesses were gazing down from on high. 

“Say ahhh!” Melissa instructed, taking my chin in hand.

I opened. “Ahhhhh….” I said, as wide as I could.

She inspected me, looking carefully into my mouth. “Do you want to see, Shanette?” She turned my head gently towards her friend.

“Ahhhhhhhh…”

Shanette nodded, also pleased. “Good job, honey.”

“Yes, good job,” Melissa agreed, “Now, are you ready to get some sleep?”

“I’m…uh…yes, ready.” Is she going to be sleeping with us? 

Shanette's hand went to Melissa’s tit and she pressed her fingers into it, sinking them into soft flesh through the thin white robe. “Don’t worry hun, you’ll have her all to yourself,”  she said, as Melissa giggled, “Your pillow is going to be so soft and so warm. It’ll support you just right.”

“I-I-I, uh…” 

“It’ll help you nod off…”

“…and make sure you have sweet dreams all night,” Melissa continued. My eyes being clearly fixated on her left tit as it made even Shanette’s big hand look small only added to her amusement. But, she was now scootching backwards, and laying down in bed, onto her right side facing me, supporting her head with one hand. Her big breasts still bulged between the open flaps of her robe. “What kind of dreams do you want to have?”

“I bet he’s been having them already,” Shanette offered as she reached down to offer me her hand. I took it, and she helped me climb up into the tall bed. 

“Maybe…” Melissa mused, watching me get settled next to her, as Shanette helped me lay, on my back, aside her. She saw that I had my hands crossed, awkwardly, on my chest, my head on a pillow and dwarfed by the boobs that looked just to my left. . “Do you, sweetie?” she asked, “Do you dream about me?”

Yes of course I do. 

“Want to make those dreams come true?” Shanette said and then - getting a silent nod from Melissa - laid down on my other side, also facing me, also positioning her big soft breasts right next to my head. 

I looked to my left: Melissa. I looked to my right: Shanette. Each way, all I could see was cleavage, bulging boob. Creamy, tanned. Chocolate, milky. Floral, vanilla, coconut perfumes and oils filled the warm air around my face. 

Shanette also had her head supported by her hand, left elbow up on her pillow. “Does the little man need some boobie time?” she cooed. 

“Shanette’s going to help me make your dreams come true,” Melissa said to me, “Just tell us what you want…”

They inched in closer to me. 

Unable, now, to find the courage to do what they obviously wanted -  to just turn to one of them and lose myself between their tits - I laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling. The lights were gentle.

“You look so shy, so insecure, so vulnerable…” Melissa said. 

“I-I…I’m sorry…” I can’t help it. 

“Shhhhh…” Shanette hushed, “…we love it.”

“We’ll protect you,” Melissa whispered. 

“You’ll be safe between us,” Shanette assured, as she reached over, over my passively upturned face, and peeled Melissa’s robe open, away from her ballooning chest. I’d turned my face a bit to watch, and moaned in a shudder as a big, white left breast came to view. 

“oh my god…” I groaned. It was huge, far larger than my head, skin smooth and taut with a swelling brown nipple and areola the size of my palm. A basketball, maybe? Bigger?

Without a word, Melissa’s arm reached over me in turn, peeling Shanette’s silken top, decorated with hearts, away from her chest. Also huge, also swollen, also bulging towards me with burgeoned softness her breasts were deeper in complexion than Melissa’s but a shade paler than the rest of her skin. Her nipple stood already engorged, the bumps of montgomery glands dimpling her darker areola. 

“There, sweetie,” Melissa purred, as I stared into the chest of her big, tall, high school friend, “Do you feel better?’

I…ugh…I I I I turned to Melissa’s breast. 

“Oh Missy,” Shanette giggled, “he can’t even talk..!”

“Yeah, he gets this way,” Melissa replied, one finger reaching out to run itself from my forehead, down the bridge of my nose. She tapped its end, playfully.  “Boop! Don’t you honey?”

“I-…” I couldn’t say a word. 

“Boys really are helpless when there’s a pair of tits in their face, aren’t they Missy?”

“Or two pairs!” Melissa giggled, pressing her left press down with her shoulder, causing it to squeeze and bulge towards me.

“Have you ever been with two girls with breasts bigger than your head?” Shanette asked, “Hm, Dr. J?”

“I don’t think he has, Shanette.”

“No, hm?”

“How do you like it, sweetie?” Melissa asked, raising herself up a bit on her right elbow and turning her torso more towards me. This brought her massive left breast in to squash into my face and head, along my left side. 

Shanette followed suit, turning her shoulder down into me and mushing her right boob into my face. Instinctively, my body tensed and stiffened, my head sinking back down into the pillow behind me as far as it could. The twin masses of boob just followed, molding around my face, cheeks and ears until nearly all light was blotted out. I was surrounded by pillowy soft, perfumed flesh, firm and warm. Above me I heard the giggles.

 “Look, we can just sandwich you in between them,” Melissa said. 

“I can’t even see him anymore Missy,” laughed Shanette. 

“Oh no!” came another laugh, this time Melissa’s, “my boyfriend’s disappeared!”

“It looks that way, huh?”

“What’s this like, hm sweetie? Like you’re being attacked by two big marshmallow monsters?”

“Smothered between two pillows?”

“Smooshed under two big balloons full of jelly…or eaten by two big marshmallow monsters?”

“You said that one already, silly.”

“<giggle!> oh yeah!”

Around me I felt hips turn towards me too, as the two bountiful young women closed in closer. 

“Do you want me to take this towel off him?”

“Yes please,” answered Melissa. 

I felt the air now on me, and now a thigh over mine. 

“Ooooh Jay, isn’t this cozy?” Melissa asked, her voice coming to me through the flesh of her chest, “Do you feel safe and warm like this, your darling little head between our big breasts?”

“Just relax,” Shanette cooed, her voice also both muffled and amplified by her huge tit, “Feel our big, soft breasts against your face.”

“That’s right, sweetie, relax,” Melissa urged, as her big thigh now came over my left leg, trapping it, “Melt for us.”

The girls now giggled and cooed, squirming and squashing against me, in perfect unison. Their breasts mushed into my face, surrounding it, my mouth and jaw now opening and closing like a starveling guppy. All the air I breathed came from their skin. 

“There’s a certain type of guy, a guy who loves breasts,” I heard Shanette begin saying, musing, “Guys who want to wake up with them as their first sight. Who want to take their first meal from them, spend all day held to them, surrounded by them…”

“Oooo that sounds familiar..!” I heard Melissa laugh, pressing into me playfully, “But aren’t all guys that way?”

“Seems that way these days, huh?” Shanette agreed, “But this one here is yours.”

Above me I heard a deep moan from Melissa turn into a laugh.  “Omigod Shanette this is too much!”

“…And at night they want to fall asleep held to them, between them…” Shanette began to finish.

“…so small and tiny and weak…”

 “…Are you that type of guy, Dr J?” she finally asked. 

Was she…was she actually expecting me to answer? From down here, buried beneath boob? I was not just speechless but unable to speak. 

“You are, aren’t you sweetie?” Melissa laughed, the eager exhilaration in her voice plain as day, “You’re my little boob-monkey, huh?”

That’s what you want isn’t it? Me clinging to you like an infant chimp to its mother. I couldn’t do anything but agree. I didn’t dare argue, or god forbid lie. Under the gentle weight of their breasts I slowly tried to nod. 

“There you go…” Shanette purred, “…good boy. Isn’t it nice to admit how much you need them?”

“It is, right? And, isn’t it so much better when you just let people help you?” Melissa cooed, “Sometimes it’s nice to just lie there and let someone else take care of you. That’s all I want to do baby, take care of you and make you feel good.  Make it nice for you.”

Boob. Boob. Everywhere boob.

“Missy let’s let him out for a minute.”

“Okay…”

Slowly, I felt the squeezing press of their tits lifting off me. Shanette’s breast, smelling of coconut oil, pulled away smoothly. But, my skin felt stuck to Melissa’s, cheek-to-tit, whether by her perspiration or mine. The heat and our sweat must have stuck us together…or there's something else happening. My face followed her breast as my head was lifted off the pillow. 

“Oh my god look at that,” Shanette said.  

“Yeah and he’s not trying to pull away,” Melissa commented. “Are you sweetie? Ooo look at you…”

It was true: my face remained plastered, stuck to her breast by the cheek. What was this?

“You really like my breasts, don’t you?” she giggled, “Rubbing your cheek against me like that?” 

Do you think I’m doing this on purpose? Under my own strength?

“I bet it’s been so long since he’s gotten this kind of attention, Missy, and maybe he just doesn’t want to let you go!”

“Is that it, huh?” Melissa cooed down to me. Gently, she began to lower me back down again, the back of my head resting again on the pillow, cheek still stuck to her skin. “Maybe you’ve never had somebody do this for you before? Hm? Poor baby…I’m here for that now.”

The two girls clucked and purred down at me. I felt Shanette’s hand petting my hair. 

“I think it’s time, Missy,” she said. 

“Okay, yeah,” Melissa agreed, and then I felt Shanette’s gentle fingers holding my face and Melissa use her hand to peel her breast from my cheek. Shanette then guided me, turning me more towards Melissa. 

“That’s right Missy, put your nipple right there. That’s good,” Shanette instructed, as I watched and Melissa positioned herself more fully over me. I was face to face with her big nipple. “You just lie there, hun,” she told me, “we got this.”

“Mm hm, we got this,” Melissa echoed, and inched in closer. 

“Now, Missy,” Shanette said, “have him suck.”

Melissa gently worked it in until her nipple was between my lips. I’d opened my mouth already, instinctively, and my world became darker again as Melissa softly dropped to rest her huge breast onto my face. Her right hand no longer supported her head, and had slid underneath mine to cradle me to her. “Here we go, baby,” she whispered, as I closed my mouth around her.

“Just lay there and do as mommy says,” Shanette spoke. 

“Suck, baby, suck,” Melissa purred on cue, “suck suck…”

“There you go baby, that’s right…” Shanette purred. I felt her hand petting me gently, caressing my arm. “This is good practice for you two,” she said.

“Mmmm I like it..!” Melissa giggled, as I had begun, earnestly, to suckle her. Her nipple was big in my mouth.

“It’s called dry-nursing,” Shanette said, “Missy…make sure he has a good latch.”

“Yeah, baby, seal on tight there,” Melissa cooed down to me, using her free left hand to reposition the weight of her breast at my face. I settled my mouth and lips around her more firmly, and continued to suck. I was keeping a slow rhythm, relaxed. My eyes just cleared the mass of her breast, and when I looked up I saw her watching me. I closed my eyes again.

“That looks good, Missy,” Shanette commended, “He’s a natural.”

“It feels nice,” Melissa agreed, gazing down at me. “I’ve been waiting for something like this, something to get us closer, start breaking down barriers.”

“That’s right, that’s good. Just relax, the two of you, bond together,” Shanette purred from behind me, “Dr. J, just let yourself drift off, think about Melissa, know how much she loves you.”

“Yes yes sweetie, I do love you, so much,” she cooed, “just keep sucking…”

<suck suck suck>

I felt Shanette’s lean in, her breasts now squashing into my shoulder as she brought her lips to my right ear. “You tried Katarina’s milk earlier,” she whispered, “You liked that?”

I groaned, purrling and mewling into Melissa’s tit.

‘“Think about it, as you suck here on Missy,” she continued, her voice big and close, making my toes curl, “wouldn’t it be nice…?”

I groaned again, my whole body shivering.

“That’s right, that’s right baby,” Melissa spoke, “Suck on me. Suck on me like a hungry baby that needs milk.”

oh god oh god oh god.

<suck suck suck>

“He’s doing so well, but he’s a little worked up,” Shanette now said to her friend, “A little tense.”

“Oh, sweetie, are you tense?” Melissa cooed, her voice sweet and heavy with honey as I dry-suckled her breast, “You poor thing.”

“I bet a nice orgasm would help him relax so much”, Shanette continued, indulgently, and then I felt her take hold of me. “He’s so hard.”

I stiffened, and my body jerked. There was actually some pain but the direct cause wasn’t her actions. Rather it was due to my exhausted reproductive system still trying to perform. It had never worked this much over such a short time period, and it was exhausted, tender, inside and out. I felt like, yes, I needed relief, release, but getting there might hurt.

“Oh, sweetie, shhh…” Melissa purred down to me, “Shanette…be gentle.”

You can tell, can’t you?

“He needs a mother’s touch,” Shanette cooed, and soon I sensed the scent of coconut oil, and things became slick around me, in her hand. Had Melissa helped out? Squeezed something onto me?

And now, rather than encircling me with her palm and fingers, Shanette pressed my erection against Melissa’s bare midthigh. Oh, yes, that feels nice. <suck suck suck>. She began to rub it gently and slowly against the soft, silky skin of Melissa’s tan, clean-shaven leg, the juice of oil lubricating and slippery.

“That’s nice, isn’t it?” Shanette’s hand was slick up and down my long length, Melissa’s muscular thigh warm and welcoming. I continued to suck, to suck, to suck, slowly, slowly, slowly and felt the pleasure seep into my bones. A mother’s touch. A mother’s touch. A mother’s touch.

“You feel so nice, up against my leg,” Melissa cooed, “And you’re doing such a good job sucking at my nipple.”

“Nice and slow, nice and slow,” Shanette purred, and I began to groan. I was sore, yes, but the climax was building already inside my swollen sac, making my belly tremble. “It’s okay, we’ll go at your pace…nice and gentle.”

And then Shanette began to humm, low and soothing behind me, as she pet me into Melissa’s leg .  A familiar melody began to form. And then she began to sing. Quietly, at first, but there was something about it, something with a palpable magic: 

“When you wish upon a star

Makes no difference who you are

Anything your heart desires

Will come to you…”

“Omigod Shanette…” Melissa praised, seemingly at a loss for words. Her voice, yes, was gorgeous. Shockingly so, in fact. The timbre, the tone, the very essence of her voice was like a casual siren song, and it covered my waking thoughts like a warm blanket. Melissa’s singing voice - she’d sung to me on our first date, in her car - was nice, also, but Shanette’s, here? It struck deep, deep, deep and I felt it close around me and my mind like a gentle hand, embracing me but also opening me up for them. My cock was throbbing now, still being rubbed into Melissa’s thigh by our songstress. She continued softly and slowly with her lullaby: 

“If you wish it in your dreams oh my god if you knew what I wanted how big I want you

No request is too extreme <suck suck suck>

When you wish upon a star can it come true?

We’ll grow for you… wait what?

“Shanette that’s lovely,” Melissa gushed, as the magic of the lullaby faded and I continued to dry-nurse at her massive breast and - oh my god, on hearing that last line - I started finally to rut into Melissa’s leg, “I didn’t know you could sing.”

”I didn’t either…”

NNNNNggghhhhh….

I came, in an easy gush, onto Melissa’s leg, all my tension draining away as I nursed myself to sleep…

===============================================

Thanks again to ResistanceIsFutile for helping me through another big one

My Patreon

[shanieveh]

BACK TO DECEMBER — reading club !

scaramouche x gn!reader

NAME—an achiever all their life, this new school was more laidback than previously but that did not mean you loved it more. as the memories of the past haunts you at your wake, all the supposed academical achievements you easily got were all the more useless, and the reading club becomes a comfort

KAMISATO AYAKA — the popular girl and president of the reading club. every guy has been in love with but also secretly has a crush the biggest crush on a girl, and will probably be kicked out once her strict rich parents heard about this, she gets high grades and often speaks of her brother abroad and his hot european bodyguard

KAVEH — a multitalented man who regularly breaks up with his boyfriend and roommate, alhaitham. he also gives you amazing love advice that he never follows and no matter what he tweets online he will be the first to knock at your door and comfort you on your off days.

XIAO — who will gladly beat up the person you are tweeting about so you can just shut up (affectionate) is also the campus emo boy but will soon be replaced by a certain transferee student. xiao doesn't care about doing well in school for he is a billionaire's son and most likely will be rich his whole life

YOIMIYA — silly girl who dreams of the cottage core lesbian aesthetic. also has a bunch of hit posts from her random rambles online and a favorite of the elementary students. she wishes to help you about your emotions, but she is too busy being an icon and a legend

VENTI — a poetic song writer who creates masterpieces that makes fun of all of his friend's sorrowful and miserable lives. often gets low scores on purpose to get the teacher fuming at him and often braids your hair and becomes a parlor when you cry over the past.

KAEYA — who acts like the biggest playboy but never in a relationship, he often creates thirst posts in tiktok but too shy to talk to anyone who actually develops feelings for him. he is also friends with so many people, all of which describes him as mysterious entity. he also probably knows your whole life story before you setting a foot in your new school

MONA — only went to the reading club when she realized how heavily financially supported it is by its rich sponsors. she makes tarot card readings online and does a manifestation subliminal affirmations every time an exam is near and even gave you rose quartz and believes you will be with your lost love because of it

BACK TO DECEMBER — masterpost || late night drinking buddies

SUMMARY: you were childhood bestfriends with scaramouche, and with many unanswered confessions and one sided goodbyes, you both meet again, but now he wears a cold glance even turning agressive when his eyes wander yours, and it all came down the day he became the top of your class, beating you and rejoicing in success. his smile was because of your pain. maybe you could turn back time where promises actually never broke, and love was a beautiful thing.

TAGLIST: @yukiipc @wanderchive @user11918163805279 @gekkow @moon-320 @meowmeowmau @mine-lu @sunaaa @lxkeeeee @faaariiii-world @lazy-sanns @sketcheeee @divinechicha @virette

[raspeberryheavenn]

Going to make a whole thesis about the song “Black friday” cause it’s my favorite song from bf and I NEED to be a little nerdy about it. “Oh tete but there is a genius thing explaining it”- ITS FROM MY PERSPECTIVE OKAY

“Is this what I lived for?

To be choked in a toy store?

While staring into hell…”

This first line can be “funny” and tragic, because we see a young girl with so much potential getting KILLED in a TOY STORE because of a DOLL. It’s tragic how her life has been undervalued, she can feel her death coming and it seems so close she can STARE to her destiny.

“Theres something’s that’s beautiful

Being awake for my funeral

You can close the casket now.”

But then it catches me, SHE SEEMS FINE WITH IT, so fine that the imagination of her own funeral it’s a beautiful thing to her. Closing the casket it’s accepting this is the end.

“The plans for my father's hopeless seed

Born into moral poverty

Still, I wasn't the angel heaven sent

To break through my cliché boundaries”

Okay so first we have a “Not your seed reference” that it’s interesting because of the fact that Bill came to save his daughter, Lex’s Father abandoned her.

She saying “moral poverty” it’s a strong choice, not just the money, but the morals. It shows how the relationships between the fosters happened.

And she wanted to be different from her dad and mom, she wanted to break what it us set up to her: a shitty life with a shitty mother in a shitty trailer. She seems disappointed, because she didn’t break it.

“'Cause Friday is black for me

The dreamer has dreamed her dream

When Friday is black

There's no turning back

'Cause Friday is black for me”

Friday being black can be a metaphor for the end, THIS Friday it’s black because it’s MY END.

She dreamed of becoming a actress, but no, that’s her end, that’s how she dies.

And she can’t go back, because, again, THATS HER END OUCHIIIIEE.

“Is there some lesson to learn

Should I never have wanted?

I never even got started

Or were the decks always just this stacked”

Then.

She gets angrier, because she realizes what makes her such a connectable character:

She’s a teen, with dreams, loves, and a hole life to go on. How can she think of something good about this hole situation when she didn’t even TASTED life yet.

And she sees, into unfair because HOW I was SET UP, any rich kid would have an idea how to continue.

“I mean, it's really a godsend

Clear my plans for the weekend

But there's nothing to subtract

I don't want your half-baked sympathy

When did it save those in need?

Still, I thought that angels did exist

But now I hope they plan to end it quick”

In this internal monologue, she’s trying to make things make sense, so she makes fun about the godsend, about her plans for the weekend…it’s just sad.

The she turns to US, THE PUBLIC. Saying she don’t need our pity, because pity doesn’t save life’s. AND ITS SUCH A GOOD WAY TO CRITIQUE A SERIOUS MATTER LIKE THIS..I’m in love with the writing sorry.

Then. She comebacks to her fantasies about angels, but now she just hopes her end is near.

“Only my ashes will see the sea.”

She gave up about California, about her bf, she gave up about everything at this point. Now the sea will be the receptionist of what lasted of her.

“At first I didn't know what she was to me

At first I didn't know why I cared

Or why I wanted

To hold her and rock her to sleep”

And now she encounters the only thing the really kept her going. Hannah was a salvation to lex, lex wanted to be a better person because Hannah existed. She took care of her, she rocked her to sleep, she was the mother and the sister all at once.

“Did I need her more than she needed me?”

The answer? Yes. She needed Hannah to have something to inspire her to continue. In dysfunctional households, the majority of the kids fear ending up like theirs responsible, but don’t have a reason (a formal reason I say) to change, lex encounters hannah as a motivation to grow up to be better.

“Maybe I’m wrong

She can go on her own

But I’m leaving”

And then, she gives up.

She says goodbye to her last hope, and embraces death.

UNTIL OUT MAN GENERAL JOHN MACNAMARA APPEARS AM RIGHTTT

just love this song sorry.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Teen and Up Rated Fics Masterlist (3)

Part 1 / Part 2 /

Created: September 1st, 2023

Last Checked:----

Even Days-loungemermaid (AO3)

Summary: “I’m at the end of the line, and it’s the choice I have always had to make: do I want Peeta Mellark in my life? Can I face the devil I don’t know to stop living with the devil I do? Is the fear of what could happen stronger than the pain of not having him close to me?” Or Katniss realizes she’s in love with Peeta before he’s rescued from the Capitol.

Every Time I Choose Violence- endlessnightlock (AO3)

Summary: When Peeta's mother mistreats her son in front of Katniss, things turn ugly. Or threaten to.

Every Time I Choose You- endlessnightlock (AO3)

Summary: Older Katniss makes a bargain for Younger Peeta to become her husband in this no Hunger Games, in-Panem arranged marriage a/u.

Extension Request-deinde_prandium (AO3)

Summary: In which Katniss learns the hard way that it's never a good idea to email your TA when hopped up on pain medication. Especially when that TA is someone as attractive as Peeta Mellark.

Farm to Table-flyingcarpet (AO3)

Summary: Peeta Mellark has bread to bake, a struggling business to protect, and a reality show to film. Oh, and somehow he has to work up the nerve to speak to the girl of his dreams.

For What It's Worth-Abagail_Snow (AO3)

Summary: "You were right," he says, his eyes still set on the horizon. "We have to go." I glance up the beach to make sure the others are out of earshot. "I thought we were waiting for Beetee's plan to get rid of the careers," I say. "And now we know it," he says.

Full-Mollywog (AO3)

Summary: She’d prepared stew for dinner and between them they’d devoured the whole thing. He had felt fine when he fell asleep, but only hours later, he’d woken to a gnawing emptiness in his stomach. A growth spurt is the only explanation. He was far from starving, the rational part of his brain knew that, but the hunger and darkness of the room, paired with the acrid taste in his mouth triggered a memory of the early days of his Capital imprisonment. The air in the room became constrictive, his breathing turned shallow. He looked over to Katniss, grateful to find her peacefully sleeping on the other side of the bed. He needed to get out of there.

Gone Like That Sunset-keeptheearthbelow (AO3)

Summary: Katniss, in all her discomfort with sex, reflects on an incident of lust and its repercussions. A missing moment set during Catching Fire and later.

Handwritten on Your Skin- RoseFyre (AO3)

Summary: Haymitch Abernathy lost his soulmate. Effie Trinket didn't have one. Somehow they came together anyway.

He Doesn't Belong Down There-oakfarmer (AO3)

Summary: It’s not unheard of for a merchant’s third son to end up in the mines. But why did it have to be the baker’s third son? In a Panem without the Hunger Games, Peeta becomes a coal miner and someone isn’t happy about the Boy with the Bread spending his days underground.

[mercurygray]

Was feeling frisky this morning and @junojelli said something about Vampire Joan, and. Yeah.

It's really too easy, finding a meal.

The same tricks that worked in Washington still work here - a little bit of lipstick and a pretty blouse in a bar, leaning over, just a little charm for effect. "Buy a girl a drink, soldier?"

And it works every time, just like it has for centuries. Ages pass, wars come and go - but men are still blindingly obvious. It used to make her feel powerful, being able to bend men to her will like that, but time and age have taught her better. He'll buy her the drink, and then maybe another, watching her over the top of his own glass as she giggles and grins and finally consents to find 'somewhere more quiet.'

He never knows that she's been watching him the whole time, the drunkenness an act. In the morning he'll think it was a dream - the headache and tiredness will pass much like a hangover. There will be no memory of the dark alley, the cold of the wall, the feeling of her body beneath his hands, her lips on his lips…her teeth on his neck.

Kings and princes, beggars and fools - blood is blood and it still runs red. She drinks just enough to feel sated and leaves the man where he lies, buttoning her charm back in as she walks back to barracks. That's her true power, now - to remain unremarkable, even when she'd like to shine. No amount of practice will ever make it all go away, of course, but with it muted she can almost trust that men like her as she is.

It's easier to control herself when she's full. When she's hungry everything starts escaping, her whole body looking for the easiest route to her next meal. The trick is not to let herself get ravenous, because if she does every kind of hunger she possesses will come out -- and she hungers in particular for him.

"Why him?" Lew asks, one day after field exercises.

"Why who?"

"You know full well who," her friend responds with a scoff. "When he looks at you, you go…flat, somehow. Like you're trying not to be noticed."

He's not wrong - she does do that, become more conscious of her power. "He reminds me of someone I used to know," Joan says, recalling the smell of wool, the strike of flint on steel and the consuming of a candle flame, the lines by Rilke - A young knight comes into my mind, as in some old, old saying. He came. Thus comes the storm to bind you in its mantle, all entwined. They are not the same man, but they are close - the way he half-smiles when something frustrates him, the color of his eyes. In a past life he's lead men before, and it shows - command comes naturally to him. And she wants him, desperately, not just to drink, but to know, to have him drain the depths of her. But not because she charmed him. She can charm anyone.

"A lover?" Well, how can she hide from that? She nods. Trust Lew to get right to the bottom of things. Lew's really the only person who knows - the only person who noticed. (He had strange friends, at Yale - was known to run with the set who liked to try new things, was willing to take risks.) But her secret is safe with him - We're going to war. Why would I give up on six hundred years of experience? "Show me," he says. "Show me how he saw you."

Joan looks at Lew, feeling the pang of it. She's lived this double life for so long that it feels dangerous, to let down all her guards and let her power out. She fixes her eye on him and exhales.

She can see the change in him immediately - the way his eyes widen, his breathing hitches, heart-rate picks up. He sits up a little straighter in his chair, and she notices even his smell has changed, desire seeping out of every pore. "Fuck me, Joanie. Who says no like that?" And she knows, all too well, that he means it literally - a neck is easier to bite when it's naked and in bed.

"No one," she says, and reins it all back in, flattening herself, as he so eloquently put it. She watches his eyes return to normal, although his pulse is still up, the desire still real. "I don't want that for him."

Lew laughs, still a little breathless. "I hate to tell you, Joanie, but you're still pretty without your vampire tricks. I'll just have to work on making sure he sees."

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for lying to my field trip partner and ruining his dreams?

Alright so, for context - I was in this field trip to a village to learn about the local legend for my assignment and I partnered up with a boy from another school that grew up in the village (Let's call him K).

He was awfully shy, but he seemed very nice, and it was really, really obvious that he adores the legend... though he was self-conscious talking about it since he was a big fan of the ogre that everyone was afraid of instead of the heroes of the story the townsfolk adored. But I didn't see anything wrong with having an opinion and I liked how happy he was talking about it and wanting to be its friend so I thought we were off to a good start of a friendship.

Now, here's where it all starts; At the local festival, I somehow ran into the actual ogre from the legend with K's older sister (let's call her C). The ogre dropped her mask and ran off scared. And the first thing C said after we realized who we just met was that she wanted to lie about encountering K's literal childhood idol because she was worried he'd act recklessly like chase after it in the mountains during the middle of the night.

I thought that was unfair but... guys, C has some serious anger management issues, she freaked me out too much to try risking it. Even if she wasn't actually planning to shove a ball of poison gas in my mouth, I was scared she'd get a stroke or something with how often she shakes in rage.

Not only that, but when we brought the mask to their grandpa, he came to tell us a whole bombshell about how everything we know about the legend is a complete lie... and then proceeded to ALSO tell us not to tell K the truth.

At this point, this felt more like a family matter that I wasn't sure I had the right to intervene on. So when he came up to me afterwards and asked me what I was up to... I went ahead and ended up lying to him.

He... really didn't take it very well.

He thought we were maliciously leaving him out on things and making fun of him behind his back... Which wasn't true - the ogre just dropped her mask and we wanted to have it fixed and return it to her - but considering how harshly C speaks to him, I can't blame him that much?

I apologized when the cat eventually was out of the bag, but then the ogre was intimidated about meeting someone new and hid behind me when K tried to give her mask back... He didn't take that very well either...

He challenged me to battle a couple of times but each time, he didn't take the losses very well. It wasn't like it was from a lack of trying because his team was genuinely getting better from every challenge. K was getting so upset about things that it was starting to make C worried.

A looooot of things happened throughout but it'd take too long to cover it all. But long story short, we all came to set things right for the ogre, clear her name, and went to return her home. But it turned out, she actually wanted to stay with me and have me become her new owner. K.... REALLY didn't take that very well.

K believed that the ogre would've acknowledged him and be his friend if he became stronger. So he wanted to battle me for the right to have the ogre as her new owner. C tried to talk him down about it since it was the ogre's choice but he really wanted to prove himself.

I thought it would've been much more worse if I held back since he was taking this very seriously, so I had my team hit his with all we got on that battle.

Well... he accepted the loss. But he was very obviously upset about it, and the next day he refused to come out of his room or even say goodbye when he and C had to go back to their boarding school. So it's been kind of a lot to take in these past few days...

So uhm... guys, AITA?

[fals3nd]

fuck it i know no one else has info up but i've been playing bg3 and thinking about her so. meredith connar cheat sheet.

in game terms - level 10 life domain cleric, level 5 champion fighter. hermit background. high wis & str, low cha & dex. inventory to note is a powerful artefact called the hand of healing, a cloak of protection, goggles of night, and a belt of hill giant strength. feats are keen mind, spell sniper, and war caster. 22 ac, 129 hp.

orphan found on the steps of a selûnite temple, raised by a cleric named tamora connar. always has been trying so godsdamned hard to be worthy, to feel and hear selûne in all she does. was sort of a wayward, scrappy kid who had trouble following any sort of code. spent a lot of time reading and trying to feel the moon maiden's light through her childhood up into her late teens.

at around eighteen she had a dream, showing her an abandoned and ruined temple out in the wilderness. there was an ancient relic inside, an important one, and one meredith felt sure selûne herself wanted meredith to go find and protect. meredith set off on her own the very next morning. spends the next several years of her life first seeking this artefact, and then finding and protecting it.

runs into the whole elturel was pulled into hell thing on accident. she was in baldur's gate looking for tamora when she instead came across an adventuring party set to try and bring elturel back. it seemed like a worthy mission, and meredith felt that otherworldly pull to go along as well. so she did.

long story short ; meredith, a hellrider named ingrid, a tabaxi named bizarre rock, a tiefling named khiall, and an aasimar named diana go into avernus. it's awful. it's brutal. it, at many points, appears to be impossible to make it through.

meredith unfortunately becomes interesting to cultists of the dragon they meet throughout avernus. these cultists seek the very artefact meredith has sworn her life to protect ; it is a metal hand, made of shining silver, that ends at the wrist. tiamat herself wants it. meredith will not let that happen.

winds up having to fuse the artefact to herself in a last-ditch effort at remaining alive. in a bloody battle, all of her party members had fallen and were near death. meredith only had one option remaining, and it was to slice off her hand in the heat of battle and replace it with the artefact she had spent the last several years of her life protecting.

the hand is powerful. it can heal several people at once. it can shoot beams of pure moonlight. it can repel the undead. it can likely do far more than meredith even knows. but every time she uses its power, the silver creeps further and further up her arm - her body grows colder - her mind more exhausted.

i'm not going to detail the entirety of descent into avernus for you all right now but the champions of elturel become just that. they lose khiall in the process, as he becomes a being known as proxy to a powerful sword. they win. they pull elturel back to the material plane. they pull zariel back to herself, if only for a moment. they are venerated as heroes. meredith's arm is silver up past her elbow, and she takes the opportunity to slip away from her celebrating friends and vanish into the night.

there are still cultists of the dragon after meredith, and now that she and the artefact are one in the same they want her.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

Solomon Anointed King (1 Kings 1:28-39)

The life of David was troubled to its close. The tragic death of Absalom ended his rebellion against the king but David found little of that love and restful quiet which make old age ideal in its peace. There were continuous strifes and dissensions in his kingdom. In his own home also there were jealousies and quarrels.

David incurred the divine displeasure by numbering the people, and had his choice of judgments. Three days of pestilence was followed by the king’s setting up an altar and offering sacrifices in the threshing floor of Araunah when pestilence ceased. When the king was very old another rebellion was plotted by Adonijah. Bathsheba, aided by Nathan the prophet, aroused David to have Solomon declared king at once, before Adonijah could be crowned. It was a strong appeal which was made to the king. “Is this thing done by my lord the king,” demanded Nathan, “and you have not showed unto your servants who should sit on the throne of my lord the king after him?” David replied: “Call Bathsheba.” And she came into the king’s presence.

The mother was very deeply interested in the future of her son. She was ambitious for him. What true mother is not interested in her boy’s career, and ambitious for his success? No mother wants to see her boy make a failure of his life. It is a part of mother-love to wish great things for her children. They need not always be things that are great in this world’s estimation. Indeed, the mother who has the truest aspirations for her children, cares far more that they may live worthily and grow into noble character; into “whatever things are true,. .. whatever things are lovely” and fulfill God’s purpose for their life than that they may win high places in this world.

Yet every mother has lofty yearnings for her children. The mother of James and John craved for her sons places at the right and left hand of Jesus in His kingdom. Bathsheba wished to see her son crowned a king. As we think of these longings in the universal mother-heart, we need not be surprised at Bathsheba’s eagerness and earnestness in this matter. She was quick to have Solomon’s right to the throne protected. Boys do not know what great things their mothers dream for them, and how they strive and toil to have them win honor and attain lofty and worthy things. It ought to be every boy’s aim not to disappoint his mother but to become what she wishes him to be.

David had sworn to Bathsheba in the past that Solomon, her son, should reign as king. He now declares to her that his oath will be sacredly kept. He would not disappoint her. We should learn a lesson here on the sacredness of keeping engagements and promises. Whatever we have solemnly pledged ourselves to do we should do at any cost to ourselves. One of the marks of the man who shall abide in God’s presence, we are told, is, “That he swears to his own hurt, and changes not.” Many people’s conscience needs toning up in this regard. There is altogether too much carelessness in keeping promises. Too many people find it very easy to “forget” to do what they have solemnly said they would do. Pledges sit very lightly upon their conscience. Vows are thoughtlessly made and just as thoughtlessly broken. We ought to learn a lesson from David’s assurance to Bathsheba. He had made an oath to her, and now he declares to her that he will certainly do what he has sworn to do.

The solemnity of an oath should not be needed, however, to make an engagement sacred and inviolable. One’s simple word should be held irrevocably binding just as binding as one’s most sacred oath. We should be absolutely true. To speak anything but the truth is a degradation of our whole nature. Forgetfulness is no excuse for failing to keep a promise. We have no right to forget things that we promise. If our memory is defective we should put down our promises in writing, and keep them so before our mind that it will be impossible for us to forget them. We ought to be so careful in keeping our word even in the very smallest matters that people shall learn to trust absolutely every lightest promise we make. One who can be implicitly relied upon, who never fails those who trust in him, is like a fragment of the Rock of Ages.

David’s assurance to Bathsheba must have given strong comfort to her. It was a great thing to succeed such a man as David. Indeed, it is a great thing, a high honor, for any boy or young man to be the successor of a good and worthy father. Many young people who study this lesson, have fathers and mothers who have lived nobly, who have brought to them a rich inheritance of blessing a good name, honor, influence, if not money. It is a high honor to a son to be a successful father’s successor in business. When a father dies, and the son is called to take up his work, it is as if a crown had been put upon his head. Every son should seek to be a worthy successor to his father.

We may profitably compare Adonijah and Solomon, two sons of the same royal father. Adonijah sought to be his father’s successor in place and in power but sought it in such a way as to make himself a criminal in the eyes of the world. On the other hand, Solomon was thoughtful, studious, faithful to all duties as a young man, discarding the vices that his brother Adonijah loved, and striving after the true, manly virtues.

So far as we know, Solomon himself made no claim to the throne and made no effort to get it. He was God’s choice for David’s successor. Whatever we may say about his later life, he certainly began well. He was worthy to take his father’s place.

We find these two types of sons in a great many homes. We find those who desire to profit in a father’s inheritance but have no desire to wear the garments of a father’s worthy name and character. There are too many prodigal sons who demand their portion of the father’s substance but have no intention of succeeding their father in character, in moral principle, in his place in the Church, and in the doing of good. A young man who would be a worthy successor to a good father, must remember that he has his father’s name to bear and to keep unsullied before the world, as well as to share his father’s patrimony. The responsibility of being a godly man’s successor is very great. We have a sacred trust committed to us which we must guard with sedulous care.

David showed his old-time spirit and energy in the way he carried out his determination regarding Solomon. He called Zadok, Nathan, and Benaiah, and commanded them to make Solomon king. “Take with you the servants of your lord, and cause Solomon my son to ride upon mine own mule, and bring him down to Gihon: and let Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet anoint him there king over Israel.”

The old fire in David’s heart flamed up into brightness again. Although he had been so feeble, when he now saw his throne about to be seized unlawfully by his prodigal son, all the man in him awoke the old warrior, the brave master of circumstances.

We must admire his promptness, his firmness, his courage, and his unfaltering purpose. He knew it was God’s will that Solomon should reign in his place, and he was eager to carry out God’s thought for Solomon. No nobler ambition could be in any parent’s heart than so to lead his child that the child shall fulfill the plan of God for his life. A great many parents are ambitious for their children, without asking what God would have them to do. David’s example is better. He was swift in duty, although so feeble, because he knew what God’s will was, and he was determined to carry it out. He was ready to make a sacrifice of himself, giving up the throne in order that Solomon might be crowned at once.

The swiftness of David’s course probably saved him and the country from a repetition of the experiences which marked the time of Absalom’s rebellion. If he had lingered a little longer, Adonijah would have been declared king, and probably would have had a great following among the people. David might have been driven away from his palace, Solomon might have been killed, and the future of the empire imperiled. But the promptness of David saved the country from this danger and himself from humiliation and sorrow.

Many men lose all the best opportunities of their life for lack of promptness. They dally until it is too late to do anything. Then they wake up and try to do their duty but the time is gone! They might as well sleep on now and take their rest.

The men whom David had charged with the duty of anointing Solomon lost no time but carried out the king’s commandment instantly. “And Zadok the priest took the horn of oil out of the Tent, and anointed Solomon.”

The oil was the symbol of the Holy Spirit. The anointing was a type of the anointing of the Spirit. The meaning of the ceremony was that, as men anointed the young king with oil, so God would anoint him with divine grace, setting him apart as king and gifting him for His service. Something like this is the sacrament of baptism, when water is used. The water has no power to cleanse or change a heart but it is a symbol of the Divine Spirit. As we baptize with water, we pray that God may baptize with His own grace. When Jesus was being baptized He prayed, and the Holy Spirit descended upon Him. Thus He was anointed for His ministry as Redeemer of the world. God anoints every one of us, as we wait at His feet in consecration, giving us His Spirit to fit us for His work.

Solomon must have felt a new responsibility in his soul as the holy oil touched his brow. New duties were his now. He was separated from his fellows and set apart for a new life. It is related of a Russian prince that he was in Paris, having for his companions certain rich young men who passed their time in reveling. One night they were feasting, and in the midst of their revels a sealed message was handed to the prince. He opened and read it, then, rising, said to his companions, “I am emperor now.” He then turned away and left them, separating himself forever from his past life. When we are called to any new duty we should break with whatever in our past life has been unworthy.