#r.cooper

[sweetfirebird]

Pets

I am posting these all out of order but whatever it's December and my mind is just rushing wind and tumbleweeds right now.

Anyway. Next up in the charity prompts:

Moggot donated very kindly and asked for Trenne meeting a cat. Which is obviously very funny so of course I made it just a tiny bit sad as well.

Content tags: uh the Sha attitude toward the hurat. The human attitude toward Trenne with his ears. Lonely and a bit sad bb Trenne. Not exactly spoilers for Taji From Beyond the Rings but... will it make sense if you haven't read that? I wonder. Trenne and this universe belong to me, and all that.

Pets

Trenne desired to center himself so that the others on his team would not notice his discomfort at traveling over water in this way. He had never been on a boat, although he had seen some in his life before the I.P.T.C. He had also never been flown through the air in his time before he joined the humans and left his home, his planet, forever, and he had learned to deal with that, so the motions of boat-over-water would become acceptable with time, he was certain. But he would have preferred to grow accustomed to it quickly so that the humans on his team would not find discomfort amusing.

Their amusement was not cruel, in most cases. They took amusement in many things done even by other humans. But I.P.T.C. was Trenne’s chance to be something other than hurat, and he did not know how to react to human teasing.

Centering himself would have helped calm him, but the boat did not have space for him to move freely. It barely had room for him to move. So he tried to content himself with sitting on the small cot given to him as a bunk for the duration of this journey and using the Data Device the I.P.T.C. had given him during his first assignment to learn more of the ways of both humans and the places they lived.

The engine of the boat made noise. So did the water it moved through, and the warm rain outside, and the members of his team scattered around the boat wherever there had been space to set up cots.

Humans were in many ways easier to deal with than those Trenne had known in his own world. They had their own worries and complaints and angers toward one another, but they did not know Sha, or hurat. They bonded as easily as the stories about them suggested… but they were loud. Trenne could not help but flatten his ears a little to muffle the noises they made as they spoke and ate and cleaned themselves and expressed every emotion they had without consequence.

For all of that, for how wild even the quietest of the humans around Trenne would seem to those in the empire of Trenne’s birth, they had come from other places, and like him, were new to many things. So they might tease, as was their way, but they did not always assume the worst of him. Possibly because they did not know hurat. Or possibly only because Trenne was of a greater size than them.

He gave them no reason to fear him, regardless of their reasons, and tried to accept their teasing if he felt it was meant…

Kindly. That was what humans would say. If it was without malice.

The boat moved, a gentle swaying motion that nonetheless made Trenne want to go outside to look at the water so he could predict how the boat would move next. But they had days yet to travel, so he made himself be still.

This place was a small planet according to his superiors. His team were headed to a remote base where they would be bored for several months, also according to his superiors. But some local ally of the I.P.T.C. wanted protection from those who they—he, Trenne reminded himself--a human gender marker of ‘male’ status with no other indicators attached—claimed were against I.P.T.C. interference.

That was possible. It was also possible that he lied. The ability and desire to lie was a trait humans and the Sha shared.

But it was not Trenne’s place to question, so he did not. Not aloud. He kept his thoughts to himself, as humans said, a habit conditioned into him since his earliest years.  

Much like calming himself with breathing so that no emotion would show through his actions, which he greatly wished to do now.

Instead, he sat on his cot, which faced another cot, currently unoccupied, along a narrow hall in the middle of the boat, and pulled out his Data Device.

He removed his earlier information searches in order to look through the games, which he found useful when he needed to pretend that he was not paying attention to the others around him.

A whisper, a hint of a sound made him pause. He kept his attention on the screen of the DD but tried to assess the sound and where it had come from. When it did not reoccur, he assumed it was a consequence of the rain hitting the boat. He chose a game of bintoh, then stopped when the noise occurred again.

He turned his ears toward the source of the sound, then raised his head to find it with his eyes.

An animal sat on the other cot, staring at him.

Because Trenne had heard Delayn and the others name it earlier, he knew this animal was a cat. Trenne had searched for information on cats shortly afterward, in his first moments alone. Cats belonged to what humans called a “family” which was a different family than the ones of blood and close relations that humans claimed. Felidae was the family of categorization, and it held cats of many sizes and colors.

Humans had brought cats with them across the stars. The smaller ones, like this one, were popular and “loved.” Humans kept them with them in their homes, as “pets.”

Humans did such things. They would bond with anything, and with no one else human or sentient around, turned to animals for companions.

Cats seemed a strange choice, to Trenne, although the small ones were obviously less dangerous than the big ones. The information on them said they were predators and efficient hunters. So efficient that their presence was restricted in most places because of the damage they caused to local animal groups. This cat was wearing a collar, probably as a device to keep it on board the boat and out of trouble.

Trenne considered this cat, a “domestic pet” the information had claimed. It was certainly used to humans and their loudness. Nearly everyone on Trenne’s team had stopped to touch the cat and speak to it the way humans spoke to their children.

They had also paused upon realizing Trenne had never seen such an animal before and teased him. He hoped with human affection.

The cat, they had said, must be a long-lost sibling of his.

Trenne had no siblings that he knew of, but eventually had understood their humor when the cat had reacted to their laughter.

The cat’s name—humans, being humans, named their pets—was Boots. For the four white feet—paws—Trenne assumed, since boots were shoes and the white spots resembled those. It was covered in fur except for its nose and eyes, the fur striped and dotted in many shades, reminding Trenne of the place he had left behind. Boots also had large eyes which saw better in the dark than in the light, according to the DD, and sensitive ears, with hearing better than a human’s. The ears were atop its head, roughly triangular, with tiny wisps of fur at the crest. They turned to follow sounds as Trenne’s did.

Trenne wondered how the cat felt to have its home periodically filled with noisy, mostly human soldiers with much heavier boots than its own.

The others had referred to the cat with a human gender marker—she—but Trenne was not certain that this was meant the way humans meant it for each other, and so settled on it, which was insufficiently informative but hopefully nonoffensive.

Boots been stroked and touched by everyone earlier, so perhaps it found the noise worth it. Humans, for all their destruction, showed affection nearly constantly: to each other, to their favorite possessions, to small animals they let live in their homes.

The domestic pet cats got food, shelter, and that affection. Boots had basked in it, purring. A sound Trenne had heard clearly from some distance away, so he’d read about that too.

Boots regarded him with interest now as it hadn’t that morning. Cats did not understand words as such, Trenne had read. They could not converse but would at times make sounds for humans to imitate what humans did. They understood tone and intent, and associated word sounds with certain things or events.

The information had not mentioned their emotions, if any, although the others has behaved as though purring meant happy.

“Boots,” Trenne greeted the creature at last, perhaps as he should have with the others that morning. He kept his voice down, but the cat heard, its ears swinging forward and staying there. Interested, Trenne would have said, if speaking of someone from his world with ears like that.

Trenne let one of his ears track the sounds from the rest of the boat. Murmurs from elsewhere. Splashes of water at semi regular intervals against the side of the boat. Their sergeant, a few rooms away, complaining about something.

Opposite him, the cat’s ear flicked in the same direction, although it did not look away from Trenne.

Trenne pulled his ears forward again, attentive. “You do not purring.” He paused, then sternly corrected himself. “You are not purring. I offend you?”

He felt somewhat foolish—human, to talk to the cat this way. The cat would not understand. Not words. But Trenne knew other ways of speaking.  

He swung his ears slightly outward, hoping to indicate he was not alarmed by the cat’s presence. Which he was not. The cat was a predator but so was he, and he was much larger.

Perhaps his size alarmed the cat, so he also slid slightly down the wall at his back, keeping his ears relaxed as he did.

The pupils of the cat’s eyes became very large. Its tail twitched at its side. Then it opened its mouth to display its teeth—or yawn.

Humans yawned. Trenne had not read far enough to know if cats also yawned.

If it had been a display of teeth, Trenne must have threatened it. He put down his Data Device and rested his hands at his sides.

Boots pricked up its ears once again, then with no warning leapt from the far cot to Trenne’s.

Trenne turned to observe and keep the cat in sight. The cat knew it was being watched, glancing up to meet Trenne’s stare as it stepped with great care, and probably silently to human ears, to Trenne’s knee, where it flopped over onto his side, exposing its stomach and vulnerable places.

Trenne realized his ears had gone flat with alarm and straightened them before anyone might walk by and see.

He had not read far enough to learn if cats knew fear, either, although they must. Everything did, surely. Everything with brains enough to recognize dangers. Yet someone—something—that had felt fear would not lie down in such a way, so it must not.

Perhaps, Trenne suddenly suspected, the pet cat had only experienced what humans called love here on this boat, and so had learned to expect “pets” and not danger or cruelty.

Boots turned to look at Trenne again, then slowly closed its eyelids before reopening them. A soft life Boots had. A hunter who did not hunt, who was fed and shown affection until that was what it expected, even from Trenne. 

Trenne glanced around, but no one was nearby to laugh at the hurat, so he carefully, slowly, moved one hand as he had witnessed the others do, running his palm down the length of the cat’s back.

The fur was pleasing to feel. The cat’s body was warm, warmer than a human’s body temperature. It blinked slowly at Trenne before curling into a ball, leaving part of its back pressed to Trenne’s thigh.

Trenne attempted another stroke—a pet for a pet. Humans named their creatures for what humans did to them but the pets didn’t seem to object. Boots did not. Boots rolled over again, putting its face to Trenne’s leg. Its breath was warm too, its heart faster than a human’s but much quieter.

Trenne rested his palm over some of the markings, familiar and strange, and then felt the rumble a fraction of a second before he heard the sound. Purring.

Humans were free with their affection, Trenne reflected again, but others might not mind. Others might like it and grow used to it.

Trenne’s ears went flat again, but he continued to move his hand, gently stroking the length of Boots’ back so the low, soothing noise of purring would continue. He liked it. It indicated comfort and pleasure.

“A soft life,” Trenne sound aloud again, although he was not certain that soft was an adjective to be used in that way. Trenne was possibly incorrect, but to the cat, it was simply more noise, so it did not matter.

Perhaps that was the purpose of a pet. That, and soothing purring, and a warm body next to his.

#taji from beyond the rings #charity prompts 2023 #charity prompt #r.cooper

[booksandwords]

A Little Familiar by R. Cooper

Series: Familiar Spirits, #1 Read time: 1 Day Rating: 5/5 Stars

The Quote: He wasn’t genderfluid, at least, not how Piotr understood the term, but then again perhaps he was. Bartleby was… Bartleby. He wore what he chose to wear and acted how he chose to act. He’d never requested to be addressed by another pronoun or name, he simply was, like a trickster deity of old, although one not interested in deception. — Piotr

Warnings: from R. Cooper herself "witchcraft, onscreen sex, intense loneliness, genderfluid character" And I have no notes.

I loved this so much more than anticipated. It's just a super cute and fun Halloween story. It has a degree of predictability as you would expect from a piece this short but that isn't an issue for me. It's a fairly simple getting-together story set at Halloween. There are some elements that I won't include here because spoilers. I liked the characters and the story and the way they wound together. The elements that at first feel near meaningless then come into focus later. It is just wonderful R.Cooper and wonderful Samhain when you look at it as an ending/beginning time (because this does have a focus on ending as much as beginning).

Piotr (born to a Russian father, can you tell?) is a strange character to read. He struggles with loneliness but has resigned himself to it, despite loneliness being potentially of greater danger to him than any of us. Piotr is one of the greatest witches of his age, potentially for generations but it isn't really a point of pride and we aren't talking combat, it is a more grounded power. That grounded power is perfectly demonstrated in his personality, steadfast and rigid. Genderfluid Bartleby (he/him) is the first human familiar in generations, only able to serve the strongest of witches. His greatest wish in life is to help and serve but he takes pleasure in it, his personality is softer, lighter. He just gave me so much joy. His outfits and presentation are stunning at all times, his tattoo is stunning. That Bartleby is a reformed Goth is just unexpectedly funny. His strength and patience are quiet but build through the story, like a storm. I do like their relationship. It is one of mutual care and miscommunication.

Quite possibly my favourite character is Aunt Elysia, Piotr's deceased grandmother and the ghost that lives in his house... well her house. Piotr talks to her and she communicates back through noises and actions within her house. Laughter and flickering candles are both common. Elysia is the best matchmaker because she has elemental magic, she can play with the lights and the power grid (which of course she does) simultaneously preparing "It could have been any small, quaintly furnished room made up to welcome a gentleman caller.". It is through Elysia that we get our comedic relief, she likes to participate in Halloween through her ghostly form and is slightly voyeuristic. What can you say a ghost's gotta get her kicks where she can and Elysia was no prude in life. Honestly, it was through Elysia that I got my best indication of exactly how powerful Piotr is, his power is equal to or surpasses hers. (Why yes I do overthink novellas)

Some quotes I liked. Though I've left out some from the later part of the novella. • The dark sky was rolling with clouds. Ominous, to those who thought of rain as bad weather instead of necessary and life-giving. — I'm honestly not sure why I love this one so much, there is a perfect truth to it. (Piotr)

• Loneliness could turn a person inward, leave them without a bridge to the outside world. — This is probably the iconic quote of the book. It has the most highlights of any of the story. There is just such pain to it. (Piotr)

• Perhaps it was the stenciled climbing vine tattoo that started on the top of his left foot and made its way leisurely up his body, blossoming into honeysuckle at his throat. — This is here purely because I love this tattoo so much. Bartleby is Spring and rebirth and this tattoo is perfect for him. (Piotr)

• Samhain is the end of harvest and green pastures. It’s the beginning of winter and the death of the year. It’s the space between, where boundaries disappear and anything can happen. Halloween was chaos and magic and mischief that some enjoyed and others feared. The ones who feared it tried to render it harmless with jokes and singing skeletons, but deep down they knew the truth. Halloween was a celebration of life through an awareness of death, and a reminder of the presence of spirits. — I needed this quote, I needed this differential. I hadn't fully understood it until now. I'm so glad that someone has decided to use both. (Piotr)

• “It was because I am this. Powerful and… dull. I’m just a persnickety fuck.” — I had never heard the term persnickety and that is the whole reason this quote is here. Persnickety adj. informal; North American. Placing too much emphasis on trivial or minor details; fussy. (Piotr)

• “Let me be a part of your Hallow’s Eve, if not your Samhain. I will aid you. You won’t regret it,” — There is something endearing in this. The context Samhain is where the witches spend their holiday, in revelry (Bartleby)

• “My great aunt is in the room,” Piotr commented, although he saw no shadows. “Does she mind?” Bartleby sounded idly curious, but his cheeks were warm when Piotr bussed his lips across them. There was, perhaps, an envious sigh on the breeze, so Piotr shook his head. “She doesn’t.” Bartleby made a pleased, hitching sound for Piotr’s firm grip and pressing fingertips, then groaned when Piotr pulled his hands away from his skin. Piotr had to kiss him again, in apology, and because Bartleby’s mouth was intoxicating. “I mind, however.” — I told you I like Elysa? Elysa has a bit of a voyeuristic streak and it's amusing to me. What is even more amusing to me in this situation is that Bartleby was willing to give her a show. (Piotr and Bartleby)

R. Cooper is probably one of my fave authors (the dragon excepted, gimme the others), her novellas are lovely and great short reads if you need if something quick or easy to read on a commute. Or in this case short and seasonal. There are two others in the Familiar Spirits Series book #2 is Holly and Oak and is set in the lead-up to Christmas and book #3 Nothing More Certain is set in the lead-up to Halloween. Lastly, can we all just take a moment to appreciate the beauty of Kimieye Graham's cover art? It captures the paragraph... "Pallas startled him by swooping down to the table. She grabbed a red daisy and croaked at him, a pleased “Big Bear” before she took her prize to the parlor.". It's a wonderful line and I love the art. Going to be honest the art is part of what caught my attention for the novella.

2nd quote: “How did you ever convince yourself you were goth?” Bartleby was practically glowing. Rather than being insulted, Bartleby was surprised into a snorty giggle that then made him laugh harder. “It took a lot of conscious effort.” — Piotr and Bartleby

#a little familiar #r. cooper #holiday reads #halloween #familiar spirits #book review #ktreviews #read 2022 #novella #booklr

[srcooper61]

This is my first published book. Pearl Harbor, Remembering how we served and survived December 7th 1941. I am a new Indie Author. Shannon R.Cooper.

#authors

[vashti-lives]

Honestly the more I think about it the more I think none of us have fully appreciated how fucking hilarious the concept of goth specific crafty YouTube influencer Ezra is. He’s a YouTube who’s also an avatar for death. Like… what does his fan base look like?? Is he out there doing colabs with other goth crafty types? I just… it’s so funny.

#nothing more certain #r.cooper

[lazygeisha]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Original Work Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mattin/Arden/Mil Characters: Mattin Arlylian, Mil Wulfa, Arden Canamorra Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Threesome - M/M/M, Polyamory, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Social Media, Getting Together, Age Difference, Hangover, Drinking Summary:

Mattin is the social media consultant for two former professional hockey players who happen to be married to each other, and famously in love with one another, and funny, and kind, and ridiculously attractive even with/because of the gray in their hair, and okay, maybe he is in lov--maybe he has a crush of some kind on them. Whatever. He's not thinking about it and he's certainly not acting on it.

That's what he tells himself. Repeatedly.

The champagne had other ideas.

#r.cooper #A Suitable Consort (For the King and His Husband) #fanfic #bonus material #favourite author #I LOVE THIS!!! #only r.cooper can write MMM I'd read #r. cooper

[modew]

Reading a book with ace rep is still satisfying

“I like Rocco,” he said, largely to hear it aloud, but also to inform Patricio. [...]“As in, like-like?”[...] “I’m pretty sure,” he answered at last, because Patricio was asking that for a good reason. Patricio had known Iz for two and a half years now, and in that time, Iz had never like-liked anyone. Iz was ace, of course, with gray, complicated feelings about sex and desire in general, but he had begun to wonder if he was aro too. He hadn’t thought so, considering his crushes and everything else. But it had certainly been possible. [...]“I have all the symptoms,” Iz went on after considering all this yet again. He read poetry. He knew what the rush of infatuation was supposed to feel like—hot cheeks and shaky limbs, distracted daydreams and stomachs full of butterflies. Butterflies was a much nicer way of describing something not unlike motion sickness, he had discovered. [...] “Oh Lord.” Patricio seemed alarmed. [...]“’The symptoms,’” he repeated flatly. “It’s not as if I don’t get aroused” Iz replied without irritation. “It’s that this is not a vague appreciation for his aesthetics.” “His aesthetics.” The weird note in Patricio’s voice made Iz shoot him a glance.”

-Izzy and the Right Answer by R.Cooper

#quotes #ace representation #asexual

[roncheg]

Two commisions I’ve made recently for R.Cooper @sweetfirebird

Characters from the book series “Beings in love”❤️ 

It was such a delight to draw them, though I rarely do commisions (day job is always in the way, especially when you need to meet a deadline..)

#r. cooper #beings in love #kazimir the firebird #Ray & Cal #commisions #my art

[kimieye]

Working on another cover for R.Cooper #badcat is supervising #sketch #wip #cat #indipendentauthor #selfpublished (at Brighton Center Historic District)

#selfpublished #wip #badcat #sketch #indipendentauthor #cat

[jjbtinman]

Lou Costello "Im Stressed" directed by Daniel R.Cooper!

[songedunenuitdete]

Guide de Séduction en Terrain Hostile, de R.Cooper

[Chronique de Laulitta] Mon avis sur Guide de Séduction en Terrain Hostile, de R.Cooper. De l'action et de de la romance avec un inspecteur de police loup garou. Un premier tome rapide à lire qui vous fera passer un bon moment.

Bestiaire Amoureux Tome 1 – Guide de Séduction en Terrain Hostile, de R. Cooper Nombre de pages : 182 pages Editeur :  MxM Bookmarks Date de sortie : 23 Août 2017 Collection :  MxM Imaginaire Langue :  Français ASIN : B074XFSYCC Prix Editeur :  5,99 €  Disponible sur Liseuse : Oui De quoi ça parle ? Le travail de détective est difficile. Être en plus un loup-garou victime de préjugés humains…

View On WordPress

[northcoteroadantiques]

Stand 16-R.Cooper(British,late 19th/early 20th cent).Watercolour"Leaving the City".35.5Cmx25.5Cm. Price £270

#Antiques

[sweetfirebird]

A Star for Trenne's Own

This is for Djaz/Seren on Patreon, who wanted some Taji and Trenne, something happy and maybe spicy if possible.

Content tags: post and pre-sexytimes. Taji mid-longing at the height of his shehzha-ness. Spoilers for Taji from Beyond the Rings. Alien genitalia (though really described much here.)

A Star for Trenne's Own

Taji flung his arms and legs outward on the soft sheets of his big bed and stretched, trying and failing to remember that though he currently felt no pain, his prosthetic issues were still there. The bedding was freshly changed. Taji had no real thoughts to spare for whoever had been collecting their laundry except to wish them well and maybe thank them some day whenever he left this room again.

He frowned fleetingly at the idea of moving from this room, from this bed, and rolled over to press his shoulders against sweet-smelling pillows and spread his legs in sensual delight. His skin was scrubbed and clean, oil massaged in by Trenne himself, gently urging Taji this way and that, finally allowing Taji to lick at his pussy and suck his cock in exchange for Taji’s stillness while he made sure all of Taji’s skin was moisturized and soft.

Then he’d placed Taji on the bed to rest so he could quickly clean himself before returning to the bedroom. He put a protein bar in Taji’s hand. Taji meant to glare at him for it, but he looked up and was immediately distracted by Trenne’s lovely, delicate eyes. So big and so deadly when he needed to be, but so delicate.

“Eat, peha.” Trenne said that because he was clever and wonderful and knew it would make Taji eat, at least a little.

“Trenne,” Taji sighed back at him, but took a horrible, dry, crunchy bite of something that wasn’t his eshe. The crunchy ones were his favorite, Trenne would say if Taji complained. His ears would dip down. He would worry. Taji took another bite and even chewed and swallowed it, but only to please him. “Why are you so pretty?” he complained, disliking the sensation of crumbs on their bed and turning to sweep them away.

He turned back in time to catch Trenne’s ears twitching the way they always did when Taji paid him compliments. “So strong,” Taji went on breathlessly, not teasing although he’d meant to. “With markings I want to kiss. Will you let me kiss them next, eshe? Ah twitch twitch go your ears now. You’re lovely. Trenne,” Taji caught himself whining and at least cut that much off. He dutifully crunched away at the awful food Trenne wanted him to eat and hummed when Trenne’s eyes would meet his.

Trenne stood at the end of the bed, too far away, checking his DD for news and updates from the others. That was important. Taji tried to remember that.

“So smart,” he sighed this as well. “Clever and brave. They’re counting on you even now. You must be tired. Are you tired, Trenne? Come here and rest with me.”

“Water now,” Trenne said, not asking and also not climbing on the bed with Taji to rest or anything. He took the wrapper of the protein bar away and replaced it with a cup, and stood there, ears forward and attentive, while Taji frowned but drank the water.

Trenne stepped away seconds later, dealing with the wrapper and cup.

“I’m such a bother,” Taji realized, vaguely certain he’d realized this before and suddenly, impossibly tired. His bones were heavy. He could barely follow Trenne’s path around the room. “So much work for you when you’re already tired. I’m sorry.”

Trenne’s ears went to the side and then flattened. He looked at Taji directly, then came closer to the bed to cup Taji’s jaw. “It is my honor.” He brushed a tingling, sensitive space beneath Taji’s ear and then did the same to Taji’s mouth. “And it is pleasant work.”

Taji was basking in warmth and lighter than air. He smiled.

Trenne’s ears came back up. “Rest, peha. I will not leave.”

Rest did not sound fun with him close enough, naked from his shower and still damp while touching Taji. But he picked up the DD and began to skim the information again, petting Taji as he did. Taji pressed into his roughly, textured palm and let his eyes close. He had to be patient. The information was important. Trenne was eshe but they did not have soldiers to spare. He still had to be sharp.

Trenne could be patient. Remarkably so. He was Sha and not human and could come many times without ejaculating. He did that for Taji when the longing was too much, and in the meantime, answered Taji’s begging by letting Taji use him like a toy, stimulating him on his cock until Taji was a pitiful, shivering wreck and only then giving him a taste.

Sometimes, in odd moments when Taji was suddenly aware again, he worried over Trenne putting in all this work to please him while also still working to protect everyone else. He thought of that now and didn’t whine or plead or beckon Trenne to the bed. But he opened his eyes to watch him and the tiny movements of his ears as he absorbed whatever the others had to tell him.

It was good that he wasn’t distracted like Taji was. If Taji had been Shavian too, Trenne would have to fight the longing. But he had probably wanted that, when he’d dreamed of this in his youth. Now he’d never know it because Taji couldn’t give him that.

He exhaled mournfully.

“So soon?” Trenne looked down to ask, a question that didn’t quite make sense.

Taji gazed up to his still face and concerned ears. “You’re so good. My eshe.” He shivered a little and pressed his face hard into Trenne’s palm until Trenne began to lightly touch him again. “I’m more work. I can’t give you the longing. Not much of a…”

“Taji.” Trenne stopped him with a voice so firm that a hot pang went through Taji’s chest. Trenne stared down at him with the Sha version of wonder. “I believe myself fortunate that you cannot. They would judge me and they would be harsh if I gave in, even in the smallest ways. You as you are, Taji shehzha. A star for my own.”

Taji slid forward to put his face against Trenne’s thigh. “All of that and I…. I worried. In Laviias. If something happened to you and the longing would be as painful as they insisted it was. I didn’t know it then, so I believed…. I told—I told them I could live without you if I had to. That’s not very…”

“My wise shehzha.” Trenne stopped him again, one hand curved to Taji’s nape. “Clever Taji Ameyo. I would have you survive. Is that… not the answer I should give?”

His uncertainty cut through some of the warmth in Taji’s mind. He tipped his head back.

Trenne studied him with the quiet that spoke of worry. “Is it not what you want your eshe to want? I would have you survive.”

“Even if it meant another touching me?” Taji shook his head as he asked it. “I wouldn’t want it. If that had happened,” he kissed Trenne’s skin and curled his hand behind one knee, “I would imagine you,” he promised. He licked his lips and had to kiss Trenne again, shivering as he made his way up Trenne’s thigh.  He shifted to get closer, pulling Trenne toward his greedy, hungry, shehzha mouth. “I’d want this.” He used his fingers to part flesh and then his tongue to taste it before shifting to rise up higher. “Want you.” He found Trenne’s cock and sucked hard on one of the bumps that felt so good inside him. Trenne’s cock was just for him. He didn’t want some phantom eshe. “Only you.” He found a new spot to suck, but it still didn’t give him what he wanted. What he needed, hot and nutty-sweet in his mouth. “Please. Please Trenne.”

“Take what you please, peha,” he was told softly, Trenne’s palm sweeping over his shoulders and then down to help draw Taji up onto his knees. The DD was in his other hand. He needed to work and Taji should care about that and not only filling his mouth and getting Trenne to spill so much it fell to his cheek and then his chest and Taji would have to lick it from his fingers to be satisfied that he’d gotten it all.

“Trenne.” He dipped his head to find other secretions and slid his knees apart. No pain, just an open body meant to receive.

He glanced up.

Trenne took a deep breath, the one that meant he was fighting to focus. Taji kept his eyes open while lapping up what he could for now and then returned to Trenne’s cock.

“My shehzha, not yet,” Trenne told him, firm and strong and clever, the DD falling to the bed before his hands were on Taji to position him how they wanted. Taji was slick from before and open enough it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Trenne pushing him down, pushing inside him slowly to give him so much that he whined and bit his lip and swallowed what little taste he’d had so far.

No one else would compare. Taji shifted back and dropped his head to moan open-mouthed for more. “Only Trenne,” he managed, a thrum in his blood, “only you.”

 “A star for my own,” Trenne answered, and began to move Taji how he pleased.

#taji from beyond the rings #r.cooper #charity prompt #charity prompts 2023 #futurefic

[booksandwords]

“It’s your name. Always insist others pronounce your name correctly. Now, say it for me.”

Elisabet Winters, Dancing Lessons (R.Cooper)

For context this is said to Chico pronounced Sheeco, the Portuguese, not Spanish.pronounciation. I liked this inclusion and it is part of a much larger discussion of names.

This is a reminder that your name is your name insist it pronouced correctly no matter the circumstance.

#dancing lessons #r. cooper #names #pronounciation #book quotes

[vashti-lives]

Timmy badger don’t care. Timmy badger don’t give a shit, he just takes what he wants.

#one for all us internet olds tonight #little wild #r.cooper

[sweetfirebird]

It's the Firebird's book birthday today! September 18, 2015 (originally, with *that* publisher)

Everyone except Kaz, Rennet, and Jacob was written at the start of that year. Kazimir and Jacob were in pieces before then and Rennet was written like... 2013? in his original form and just sat around on my computer while I pondered what to do with him.

So really... the whole thing is his fault.

#the firebird and other stories #r.cooper #the imp and mr sunshine

[booksandwords]

Dancing Lessons by R. Cooper

Read time: 1 Day Rating: 4.5/5 Stars

The Quote: “There are a lot of misconceptions about what it means to lead, where the man leads and the lady—or whoever—must follow.” Rafael stepped forward, flashing another smile when Chico immediately responded by stepping back and then to the side. “But that forgets that no one has to follow. It’s always the partner’s choice to keep dancing. If the person leading steps on your toes, steers you into the wall, turns you when you don’t want to be turned, then you can stop.” — Rafael Winters

Warnings: mentions of past emotional abuse

Dancing Lessons is the charming story of Rafael Winters and Francisco 'Chico "Nobody calls me Francisco but my mother and bill collectors."' Silva. Chico is pronounced in the way that shows his Portuguese heritage, Sheeco. The story is told entirely through Chico's eyes in varying degrees of flawed narration. As sometimes happens in R. Cooper's works there are some gorgeous life messages, advice and analogies. In this case that is obviously in the dances and ballet used. To be honest, there is a moment in Dancing Lessons that is going to haunt me. It shouldn't but it's a sign of exactly how emotionally invested I got in this novella. For me this is a 4.5-star book that I'm rounding up to 5, there are some concerns with pronouns for Davi. The female support cast is strong and fierce though only one is intimidating (as becomes her former career)

Chico Silva is new to the small largely holiday town of Brandywine. He is living with his cousin Davi, using it as a place to be himself again after a fairly shattering relationship and break-up. Honestly, he spent a large part of the story slowly breaking my heart. At 34 he is an emotionally broken man who just needs to heal. His touch starvation which I picked from the earliest pages was near devastating to read. R.Cooper may have used Chico as a slightly unreliable narrator but that allowed for the creation of deception leading to a moment I entirely didn't see coming in the middle somewhere that might haunt me. Also, Chico's unreliability is fully backed by his history and experiences. I think you can see the markers in the support cast.

Rafael Winters is exceptionally charming, attractive and endearing. His patience with both students and the emotionally wounded Chico is perfect. His love of teaching dance and dedication to his students shines. There is a revelation with him at one point that sounds like a joke but really isn't. The dance elements are so well intertwined. As a couple, I adore Chico and Raf. They have a style and chemistry to them that doesn't appear every day. Though the chemistry between Rafael and Chico is so sizzling it feels more like it belongs in the Latin ballroom rather than the slightly more structured waltz. The waltz still has the perfect meaning for them. The performance put on but the kids is a fantastic choice with its metaphor for their relationship. If the source material is real I will be reading it (I can't find it sadly).

The support cast is impressive. We never meet the dick, John aka, the gaslighting bastard, aka Chico's ex only hear about the damage he caused. Davi is the adorable trans cousin. Unfortunately, their pronouns are a tad inconsistent I think. They are fun though Chicos greatest cheerleader supporter and the biggest tattletale. The kids gave their own messages to send. Crushes, confidence and being overlooked. The maternal characters are both impeccably strong and fierce though only one is intimidating (as becomes her former career). Ruthie is fantastic for the little we see her, she reminds me of the librarian-type characters that Cooper often includes. There are two badass old queers, Ethal and Alonzo that help Chico build his confidence and see the light "“You’re not very bright, are you, sugarpuss?” Alonzo said as he petted the back of Chico’s hand. “You could make a man do anything.”" (Alonzo). But the strongest and most intimidating character is Elisabet Winters, Rafael's mother. She is a retired dancer and exceptionally fierce and demanding of her dancers. Most people run from her when she enters a room. But she loves her son, just wants him to be happy and she knows talent when she sees it. She acknowledges and encourages Chico's talent for delicate sewing. I really like her. More than expected.

Have some quotes

extended his hand in a graceful movement reminiscent of a Disney prince. — R. Cooper shows that way with words I know and love. That is such a brilliantly visual description. (Chico)

Chico was and always had been a small and fragile creature. He caught a glimpse of his wrist and wondered how it had felt when the dance instructor had held it to carefully pull Chico’s hand to his skin. No one should be that gentle in real life unless they were handling a newborn or trying to catch a ladybug. — Oh... That's pretty. And self-deprecating which just works for him. This is less that 10% of the way in, we know that there is something not quite... whole (💔😢) about Chico but it is hard to tell to what amount. (Chico)

“Davi hasn’t said anything except in response to what I asked after you arrived in town.” He put his hand out reassuringly when Chico froze. “Davi and I talk a lot. We’re neighbors. And Davi likes to say small town queers have to stick together.” — Yas Davi! 🌈 Davi is right. I like Davi's role in this relationship. Just stay out of it and be happy when your friend and cousin get their s**t together. (Rafael)

“I promise not to show you off in front of everyone again, cross my heart. Not unless you want me to.” “Oh God.” — Chico. You totally want that. And god your chemistry is made for dance. Given the first time they meet Chico is almost unwillingly used as a dance mannequin. But the gentle human contact to someone who is touchstarved is absolutely someone he wants. (Rafael and Chico)

“Especially your partner. Complementing them is about matching your movements to theirs, which means knowing them, noticing what their bodies are telling you about their mood and their intentions and their feelings. When you don’t do that, you’ll not only have a stiff, awkward dance, but you could actually cause damage. Don’t force anything. Just pay attention and try to make each other better. And for God’s sake, no showing off. You know who I’m talking to." — This is Raf talking to his teenage dance class. But you know what this could easily be an analogy for. Do I have a slightly dirty mind? Maybe. But this is R. Cooper and they write in such away that it leads you to think. (Rafael)

“I'm seriously considering ‘accidentally’ sticking you with a pin,” Chico told him as meanly as he knew how, which only meant Travis rolled his eyes again. “Doesn’t everyone, when dealing with Travis?” Rafael inquired from outside the door. Chico had partially closed the door to give Travis some privacy, although he hadn’t really gotten undressed. Travis calmly flipped his teacher off and seemed amused when he got the bird in return through the crack in the door. Rafael inquired from outside the door. Chico had partially closed the door to give Travis some privacy, although he hadn’t really gotten undressed. Travis calmly flipped his teacher off and seemed amused when he got the bird in return through the crack in the door. — This is just a moment. Travis is one of Raf's older students he has an atitude but really suits the role he's dancing. This is just fun Raf's dynamic with his students and Chico slipping so easily into an unextepect role. Coming out of that shell. (Chico and Rafael)

That’s not what I meant. I’m thinking about you. I’m anxious, and I’ll miss you; that’s what I’m trying to say. Someone ought to kick your ex in the balls. — This is a gem of a line. It is Raf speaking for the audience, most of whom had likely already decided John needed something unpleasant to happen to him. So... can we all please form an orderly queue to kick the ex-boyfriend in the junk? Preferably with steel caps on. (Rafael)

#r. cooper #dancing lessons #book review #ktreviews #read 2022 #tw domestic violence #spoilers on goodreads #booklr