being OCpilled is so fucking mortifying honestly. like oh... yeah..... heres my guy. i invented him. i can't think about anything else except for him this week. but he isn't cool or anything. he actually sucks. im just ill.

nooooo don’t fuck me as a friend 🥴 don’t grope my tits from behind, bend me over the counter and fuck me when we’re hanging out 🥴 don’t teach me a lesson for teasing you all the time because i think you won’t act on it 🥴 i would hate that

Ciar snapped his fingers and a servant brought a chair made of bone and soft fabric, setting it across the small table from him so the prince could sit if he really wanted to. "And it wasn't my idea. But as the Fae courts and Hell sometimes run in the same circles, it seems an alliance was bound to happen eventually. Thats a shame, I was hoping a sibling would be forced to stoop so low as to marry a fae."

"And you're like a moth to a flame."

"Please, I'm nothing so fragile as that. Unlike a moth, I can resist whatever pull you think you have."

But did he resist? A careful skirting of truths.

Ciar watched the fae princeling, fascinated by him and his delicate beauty that somehow seemed sharp as well. "Not that fragile? You look like you'd break in half if you sat down wrong." He pointed out dryly. "So we're to be wed?"

"And you're like a moth to a flame."

"Please, I'm nothing so fragile as that. Unlike a moth, I can resist whatever pull you think you have."

But did he resist? A careful skirting of truths.

I can give you the name of the massage therapist, he's got nice hands and a big dick. What are you doing topside anyways? Don't you have more important things to do now?

no thoughts except I love you Foxes. I love you Trojans. I love you Cat and Laila and Jeremy and all of Jean's beautiful new friends. I love you Neil Josten and Kevin Day and their creepy little goalkeeper Andrew Minyard. I love you Wymack and Abby and Rhemann and Bee.

Most of all, I love you Jean Moreau. You deserve everything that was denied to you and so much more and I hope one day you see that.

I just... he had a little sister that he loved more than anything. he followed thea around like a lost little duckling. he was in love with his best friend and it almost destroyed him. he uses pain to both punish himself and stave off panic attacks. he survived five years of brutal torture and abuse by the skin of his teeth. his parents sold him. his little sister is dead. he wants to burn the house down. he cannot cook or shop for himself. he hates his old teammates. he loves his old teammates. he quite possibly loves his new teammates even more. he frets for the safety of people he barely knows. he's terrified of water, of being bitten, of being hurt again. he laughed when his worst abuser was dethroned and beaten and then tried to kill himself in solidarity.

he's finding reasons to live, day by day, one step at a time. a cool evening breeze, rainbows, open roads, friends.

he is jean moreau. he knows his place. he will endure.

if you can, please BUY The Sunshine Court yourself.

It will be less than a dollar to purchase. Don't get it from third party book sharing sites.

If you are able to, please support self published authors.

Молодой господин Ли Юэлун

Y’all we just got a RELEASE DATE how the fuck are we not trending???? how the fUCK ARE WE NOT LOSING OUR MINDS??? TEN DAYS YALL!!! TEN!!!!

Hebden Bridge, Calderdale, West Yorkshire (England)

A few businesses? Care to give me details? I want to make sure i don't buy any stock in them. Or maybe I want to buy stock in them so I can tank them for fun. Y'know, a little friendly competition.

I can give you the name of the massage therapist, he's got nice hands and a big dick. What are you doing topside anyways? Don't you have more important things to do now?

"Oh aren't you jut charming, is it poisoned or laced with holy water or anything?" Ciar asked, leaning forward to look at the bite, considering it before he took the bite, savoring. "Hmmm. Boston creme?"

“Whatcha looking at? I got pie on my face or somethin’?”

Ciar enjoyed hearing Alaric's breathing under his chin, and humming softly, trailing his fingers through his hair. "I would never suggest boredom, I just thought it might be fun to do something fun, something different. And I want to try my hand at it. While...I was in Hell, I was someone else's pet. You know time, it moves differently there. I was gone for five years here, I was gone for thirty years there."

"Hey Ala, how much do you love me?"

"Is this a serious inquiry, or one where I need to wonder what you've gotten yourself into, and how I'm needed to get you out?"

"I will make you drinks after this, multiple." He sat back, watching him as he continued stitching. "So, are you going to tell me what happened or am I going to move to wearing only a bustier and fishnets?"

"I suppose I should thank you for saving me, even if it means playing nurse now."

"I'd be much happier if you gave me the *names* of whoever did this to you." Ciar pointed out, working on stitching up a gash in Alaric's thigh.

"Done? Likely nothing, but he and my father have been at war nearly my whole life." Ciar said with a laugh. "He wants Moray's lands, and Lord Moray wants my father's lands. Its been push and pull for years...your northern lords are more wild than you can ever hope to know. I don't think you'll ever have a unified Scotland."

Ciar searched her face, seeing the slightest hint of grief there. "Good, my father wanted me to make myself useful to you, I've been in five border skirmishes with the English in the last year. Small ones, raiding parties mostly, testing us for weakness. But I am happy to tell you of what I know, if you'll trade stories of your time in France....I've never been."

"Not unless you'd look the other way if Lord Moray suddenly disappears into the bogs." Ciaran said with a wry grin, raising an eyebrow. "And I did not quite say that my father acknowledges your authority. Only that he's very interested to see how our Queen finally rules. We suffered under your mother for years." He walked closer, though the guards stopped him before he made it any further than the raised dais. "How do you find Scotland, after the comforts of France? Do we have their soldiers to protect the soft south from the English?"

I can give you the name of the massage therapist, he's got nice hands and a big dick. What are you doing topside anyways? Don't you have more important things to do now?

Excuse me? Those are important life lessons, thrilling tales even. Unless you’d rather while away the hours listening to Gabriel harping on about something-or-other?