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bodybeyondstories · 1 year ago

Text

Just ignore it - 3

David realizes he may have overestimated his ability to handle the newly adopted deity in his head. In trying to figure out how to direct an unlimited supply of body transforming chaos magic, he discovers the power of words, leading to some interesting developments at the bar and in Lee's lab.

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MaleTF // Ass Expansion // Dick Growth // Growth // Suggestion // nsfw

5688 words

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A Tuesday night during Winter Break was not the liveliest time at our usual haunt, the Cockatrice, but Lee and I weren’t complaining. We could gossip and scheme in peace in our back corner booth, a spot we so consistently occupied that the bartender, Jaime, jokes that our butt prints are permanently in the seats–which, in light of recent events, is probably true. As Lee had pointed out to my chagrin, the hemispheres of my ass had successfully carved out a noticeable dip in the cushion that would set a normal man off balance. Yet another reason the back corner booth was consistently ours to occupy. With the semester having ended and most of our colleagues having fled town as soon as grades were submitted, it was especially sparse, except of course, for the new regular to our little booth chats, Blake.

I had given just the essential details to the class about the extra dimensional reality warper that was seemingly auditing for most of the term, winning their silence with automatic As, no term paper, and any reference or letter of rec for any reason. I made myself available as a resident expert if they wanted to learn more about this exciting new research opportunity tied to my being through the astral realm. And of course, if they needed guidance on any unintended side effects, from wardrobe malfunctions to unwanted attention. Noah, for one, had developed a similar level of insatiability as my own and was tearing through every available hung top in the city, but had also developed a knack for coming across progressively bigger and bigger dicks; a pattern that was verging on unrealistic. I made a note to investigate further, but encouraged him to just slow down before we had an epidemic of dicks just as unwieldy as my superhung fuckbuddy sitting across from me.

The rest of the semester was relatively uneventful after I explained the situation. I decided I might as well use it as a teaching tool, one of the more extreme examples of what one might encounter in this line of work. I didn’t name Logan, though, for the risk of him drawing the ire of his colleagues. However, after some initial discomfort and surprising ambivalence, they were mostly okay with the changes, even appreciative, though they may not admit it directly. But golden boy park ranger Blake was especially enthusiastic, not to mention deeply interested in all these magical happenings. To the point where his own disproportionately meaty butt was leaving its own comical imprint in the booth next to my own.

Blake became a fixture of our weeknight scene, eager for the latest updates from Lee’s lab, which had begun to research the power of my new mental roommate. Trying to understand the unfathomable deity living in my head was slow going, but I had figured out that while they don’t have a name for themself, or really a concept of naming that makes sense to us, they deigned to experiment with some sort of grammar of identification, a small part of which is interpretable in our dimension as Synt. Blake was usually in the field during the day, so would join us after hours to get caught up, even going so far as to jot down notes and ask questions we hadn’t even thought of. He was a de facto research assistant, and at the very least this whole ordeal had gotten someone actually interested in our little corner of the world. Apparently, he’d also been chatting with Logan about some mystical archival work (I really should pay more attention to what Logan actually does). But this evening he was getting excited about his own neck of woods (pun intended) with something brewing in a local forest reserve.

“It’s one of the old ones that got absorbed into the current system when they modernized it,” said Blake, leaning forward slightly with an air of playful conspiracy, his dense biceps straining against the cuffs of his sleeves. “Not entirely public property, but not really owned by anyone anymore either. We basically have de facto jurisdiction,” a phrase he pronounced with uncertainty, “over the Marshlands.”

I wasn’t familiar with this place–admittedly I didn’t get out enough–but I dissociated as a vague image popped up on my mental map of the region, carrying a resonance that felt like a string being plucked. As I sat with this, I was aware that Blake and Lee were carrying on a conversation without me but sound and light went slightly opaque as I tried to focus on this image of…a forest clearing? And some figures that looked suspiciously like–

“Palmer!” I was brought fully back to reality by a forceful slap on the shoulder from our park ranger friend sitting next to me. Blake quickly had an apologetic look on his face that said he hadn’t quite figured out his own strength.

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “Zoned out. What’d I miss? The forest?”

“Nah, we moved on to the BBL allegations,” said Lee, with a smirk.

“I’m just sayin’ my leg days are legendary these days,” said Blake, hands splayed in mock humility. “I don’t blame ‘em for thinking something’s up. You know it’s real because I keep maxing out machines at the gym and having to scrounge up more and more plates. It’s starting to draw attention,” he chuckled.

“There’s still a lot we don’t know about the changes that Synt caused,” I offered, mentally putting on my researcher hat.

“Is still causing,” interjected Lee.

“Yes, still,” I said, suddenly feeling very self conscious. When I invited Synt to give Logan a break and join forces with me, I may have overestimated my ability to keep them reined in, and it was becoming a full time project just to keep their power from leaking out into this world at a reasonable trickle. Most of the time, I could relieve little bits of pressure here and there, resulting in acquaintances and strangers getting a little boost in passing; something to fill their pants a little more that they wouldn’t complain about. This got tricky when it comes to people I was not only intimate with, but vulnerable with. Hence why Lee’s lithe, muscular form not only filled the other side of the booth but looked downright ethereal. And yet another reason Blake enjoyed spending happy hours parked right next to me. He was, after all, enthusiastic about the situation.

“Not that I’m complaining,” said Blake. He leaned towards me slightly with a smile that was verging from friendly to flirtatious. “I look better than I ever have. Better than I thought was even possible, all thanks to our mutual friend.” He gave me (and Synt) a wink, allowing his ripped forearm to brush lightly against mine before pulling back at the static shock that visibly–and possibly audibly–jumped the centimeter between us.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no problem’,” he said, getting up and turning to the bar. “Y’all want anything?”

“I’m already at my limit,” I said, “but thanks.”

“Two-drink Tuesday,” added Lee, holding up his index and middle finger, as if that wasn’t something he had just made up. Nevertheless, I appreciated the support. Getting shlammered is no longer an option when you have immediate access to an unbelievable reservoir of chaos magic. Something Lee was constantly reminded of by the trouser snake bulging down the length of his left pant leg.

What didn’t help the situation was that Blake was really taking his time in getting to the bar, swishing his hips back and forth as he moseyed over to Jaime. The park ranger uniforms are a flattering, relaxed fit, but Blake was bursting out of his. The khakis were stretched tight across his bubble butt and quads and the button up couldn’t be buttoned all the way against the mass of his pecs and shoulders. He was a wall of dense muscle, body so sculpted from the realm of fantasy that it was almost a crime for him to even try to wear clothes in the first pl–

I knew what he was doing. He, obviously, knew what he was doing. And most importantly, the reality-altering minor god that had tied themself to me knew full well what he was doing.

We can’t keep doing this, I said to my mental roommate. He’s getting hooked.

Hooked? came a voice like tectonic plates sliding against each other.

Like, he’s enjoying these changes too much. He keeps trying to grow more and more, I worry he might go too far.

Too far? It had become clear that they had no conceptualization of what this meant, but they were starting to figure out what one might call moderation. I felt a small nudge of encouragement as if right behind my shoulder blades, but a small nudge from Synt was like a cruise ship lightly tapping against a wooden pier.

Okay, but just a little, I thought. It’s about finesse, just like we practiced.

Synt was a powerhouse to say the least, and I wasn’t so much tapping into their reservoir of chaos magic as I was slightly loosening a small pressure valve. My fingertips sparked lightly as I felt the peculiar taste of raw possibility in my mouth, like a battery on the back of my tongue that crackled down around my vocal chords. I was focusing on Blakes’s broad shoulders and muscular backside at the bar. His overdeveloped glutes defied gravity, perched like two globes above his hamstrings.

“Those could really do some damage,” I muttered under my breath. I imagined him at the gym, maxing out the machines as a warmup, having to stack weight after weight just to get a good pump. The blood rushing to his strained muscles as they repaired themselves supernaturally fast, swelling against the overstressed fabric until it couldn’t take anymore. At the bar, Blake was adjusting his waistband surreptitiously, his massive butt seeming to grow in real time to match my slapped together tipsy fantasy until finally his work pants began to give way, splitting open in a few spots to hint at a pair of bright green bikini briefs fighting for its life over his round cheeks. Much to his chagrin–but eventually to his delight–whoever he was chatting it up with failed to take notice of his sudden growth. His hand had left Blake’s hip to adjust his own crotch, which was displaying a surprising, and apparently uncomfortable, bulge.

I maybe shouldn't have done this two drinks in. I was going for more juicy pump and less wardrobe malfunction. And I didn’t even predict the spillover effect in this new beau who just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Maybe I wasn’t being focused enough, maybe it was some sort of daisy chain from their erotic connection, maybe Blake was figuring out how to re-route the chaos magic with which I had touched him. But as he apparently took notice, he played it off, turning his fat ass to squish against the bar as he faced out, glancing my way with an appreciative wink.

“He can’t keep getting away with this,” said Lee, an amused tone entering his voice. Lee had caught on to Blake’s little trick early on and found it more funny than concerning. “He pulled a fast one on you again!” he laughed.

“He’s kind of doing me a favor,” I reasoned. At least I had a willing participant to let some of the pressure off while honing this new ability. “But he could just ask me directly.”

“Well where’s the fun in that?” asked Lee, his eyes dreamily following Blake’s ass as his new friend let him into the cool winter evening, presumably to explore their respective new assets at one of their places. His eyes flicked back to me as he danced across the word fun, and I tried to evade losing myself in the chocolate brown depths of his irises, captivated by a gaze that had become hypnotic. I didn’t get very far as I began to trace the curvature of his plump lips, the rightmost third of the bottom one lost behind a row of playfully biting teeth.

This was a game we had begun to play and one I would inevitably lose. He knew what he was doing. He knew I knew that he knew what he was doing. It hadn’t taken me long to realize that a side effect of the changes in Lee was that he was beginning to have a draw on people that was hard to resist. It hadn’t taken Lee long to realize that whenever I released Synt’s erotic power into the world, I needed to in turn release my own. Hot and bothered would be an understatement, the recent double whammy in tandem with the pheromones coming from my friend across the booth were sending me into overdrive. And judging by the way Lee kept shifting in his seat, he was in a similar state of excitement.

Apparently Two-drink Tuesday also gets its name from the fact that we can’t make it to a third round without fucking each other’s brains out. Soon enough, I’m plopping my fat ass onto a table in a half forgotten supply closet that makes for a decent hookup space if you’re cool enough with Jaime. It was one of the plastic folding ones that are always already old and whose supports were groaning under my weight. The ambient light from the bar that made it down the hallway framed Lee’s expansive form as he lumbered in behind me, round shoulders rising just past the level of the door frame as he ducked in. God he was massive. As he pushed the door closed behind him, sliding us into complete darkness, I could still feel his outline moving toward me, as if he produced his own luminescence just outside of the visible spectrum.

The bass of his voice filled the room as he chuckled, coming in for a deep kiss and sliding his fingers under the waistband of my leggings as our tongues danced. He was hungry. He pushed me back onto the table as he pulled my thighs toward him. The radiant heat coming off of his crotch became all the more enticing in the chill of the back room, tingles of pleasure echoing from my hole in anticipation. I arched my back as his fingers from one hand traced along my spine, the other tenderly beginning to peel the waistband of my leggings down the curves of my hips. His hands, at this point, were the size of dinner plates but moved with surprising grace. I could feel him resisting the urge to tear the fabric clean off as he struggled to get it over my colossal cakes and tree trunk thighs. A performance of agonizing slowness that had become part of our usual foreplay.

With my hole finally exposed, he slid in one finger, then two, opting for nimbleness and dexterity in light of the brute force that I knew was coming. He worked with a light touch, loosening me up as he undid his pants and slowly slid them off, bending slightly to finagle his prodigious cock free. I regretted not having hit the lights. The slow reveal of his member was a sight to behold, even in the weak fluorescence of the store room. With a grunt, I heard his pants fall to the floor, followed by a thwack against the underside of the cheap plastic table. I briefly fantasized about Lee’s gargantuan cock lifting the entire table with me on it, entertaining the notion that I really could make that happen if I wanted to.

Don’t you? Came a deep rumble from my psyche, the familiar crescendo of energy as Synt’s attention was piqued.

Don’t you start, I warned, still thinking of Blake and his now very well endowed friend. Finesse, subtlety, I added, knowing full well Synt cared nothing for the concept.

But didn’t I? In the haze of lust, I couldn’t shake the hypothetical of Lee with a truly impossible monster cock, and a corresponding body that shattered doorways rather than ducking through them. Was it Synt’s idea or my own? Was there a difference?

I was brought back to the present by a sudden absence. My hole ached with need as Lee’s meaty fingers were withdrawn, moving to caress my torso as he maneuvered his unwieldy dick into place, stroking up and down he pumped out a steady stream of slick precum. He was already starting to moan softly as he slowly worked inch after inch after inch of his schlong inside of me. Ever the scientist, he had last measured his growth at 15.25 inches, but personal experience told me it had definitely grown a little more since then. He settled into a steady pace, holding my body gingerly with his strong arms, leaning in periodically to nuzzle against my lips.

“Is that good?” he asked.

“Harder,” I muttered, the pleasure from his cock stretching my walls only leading to a deeper and deeper need.

“Like this?” he said, picking up the pace, letting more of his strength come through as he thrust into me.

“Harder,” I breathed, feeling the familiar taste of power, the crackle across my throat.

“Mmhm,” said Lee, audibly putting in some effort as he pounded into me, his gigantic hands digging into the globes of my ass cheeks, giving them a hard slap periodically.

“Harder,” I grunted, feeling some sort of release as I had the acute image of Lee’s pelvis corded with muscle, his hips and glutes flexing with vascularity as he pumped with inhuman power.

He made a sound that was some cross between confusion and pleasure, losing control as he jackhammered into me with animalistic lust. He dug his hands in under my thighs and lifted me up bodily, impaling me on his dick as his hips went into overdrive. He roared as both of us reached climax, shooting ropes of cum as his hips continued to buck involuntarily. After the last shudders of orgasmic release, he slowly came back to his senses, pulling his softening dick out of my hole.

“Was that…you?” he asked, his hands exploring a slightly more developed muscularity than what had been the reality earlier that night.

“...I think so.”

—

I found myself in Lee’s lab early the next morning reflecting on what exactly had developed last night. Of course I was used to dipping into Synt’s power to change people, but this was different. More direct in a way I couldn’t put my finger on.

Lee was bouncing around with some extra pep in his step, his usual lumbering movements now imbued with much more grace and poise. One would find it hard to believe that just 12 hours previous he was rearranging my guts with wild abandon. His bubble butt filled out his form fitting khakis, glute and hip muscles becoming all the more apparent every time he squatted down to look at something more closely with his co-PI, Armand. At 5’6”, Armand was almost two feet shorter than the literal giant with whom he ran the paranormal research lab in the basement of the Center. I sat patiently, coffee in hand, watching them navigate the space and prep things for that morning’s procedures.

Lee and Armand had taken it upon themselves to help me study how Synt’s power worked and what kinds of research implications it might have. Lee was wildly enthusiastic about the possibilities presented by the deity in my head whose capabilities were seemingly only limited by the imagination of the host. Armand, if a little annoyed by being there earlier than the start of their usual workday, was more interested in how this development, if presented the right way, could secure some more reliable long-term research funding for the entire institute.

After all, the lab could use a makeover. It was kind of a drab, slapdash mix of alchemical and traditional scientific instruments, slowly cluttering into a maze of in-progress and semi-forgotten projects and experiments. One wall was an entire blackboard covered in a collage of equations, mathematical proofs, ancient grammars, bits of poetry, and a running list of takeout places that after many late night deliveries knew Lee and Armand by name. It at least drew the eye away from the rest of the color scheme, which consisted of specific shades of blue and sherbet-beige that one might see at a hospital or some sort of mystical DMV. But it was Lee’s high voltage magic lab. A cleanroom as he calls it.

I was crammed into an office chair at the center of a circle whose circumference featured sigils across multiple human and inhuman languages, each one glowing and fading lightly in slow sequence. I know a protective ward when I see one, and this formed an invisible, magically impermeable sphere. I sat in the middle of the snow globe, wondering what might get knocked loose were someone to come along and shake it, as Lee and Armand set about their final preparatory tasks. Lee was adjusting the angles of what looked like modified environmental sensors, following the wires back to his desktop to check that they were working. A cluster of wires ran not along the floor, but up to the ceiling and above the circle, dropping down and hooking into a brain scan helmet that sat lightly on my head. Armand was fiddling with what was certainly a decades-old fax machine, outputting a slow but continuous stream of paper while chittering softly to itself and occasionally jotting down little dots and symbols. According to Armand, it’s a device that “picks up magical grammars in ambient space and translates them into textual data for further analysis,” but I still think it just looks like a fax machine. He was not amused by this.

Our routine many mornings was me in the evil snow globe, relaying messages between Lee, Armand, and Synt as they tried to experiment with ways to activate, measure, or at least gather data on the texture of Synt’s magic. Bursts of erotic, body morphing energy were beyond impressive, but wildly unpredictable, and the research team wanted to start small and controlled. We had made little to no progress. It’s not exactly a thing that I can just turn on and off and Synt doesn’t particularly care or even see the point of all this. These little science experiments are a blip on their radar and we probably seem like anxious primates hitting things with sticks. Which to a certain extent is true.

This morning was no different than the others. After enough failed attempts and false positives, Lee sighed, shaking his head at the monitor perched on his modified standing desk.

“I need some caffeine,” he yawned, loping off toward the exit and, I assumed, the coffee shop on the ground floor upstairs.

I was left with Armand, standing hands on hips, staring intently at his fax machine as if, with enough silent pleading, it may just start speaking English. It continued its indecipherable chittering, spitting out snippets of static on the page.

“Did you get a fax?” I asked. “From the cosmos?” widening my eyes for emphasis.

“It’s not–we’re getting basically background radiation and ambient noise. Nothing that really tells us anything,” he said, turning to glance at Lee’s computer. Armand awkwardly adjusted his lab partner’s standing desk, waiting impatiently for it to lower to his height. Eventually, he relented and grabbed a step stool just so he could read the data, shooting me an annoyed glance at having to have an audience for what seemed like a daily ordeal between them.

“So you didn’t feel anything this whole session? No surges of otherworldly power?” he asked.

“I felt hungry,” I responded. “Haven’t heard much from Synt.”

“But Lee said yesterday evening you did it without even trying,” said Armand, scratching the scruff on his chin in thought.

My heart skipped a beat as I imagined Lee informing Armand about how he got his new power thrust pelvis as if it were anecdotal data, before I realized, “Oh, you mean Blake!”

“Yeah, that was his name. The park ranger guy. He’s been emailing me about some abandoned site out in the forest, I need to look into it. But you changed him just by what? Thinking about it?”

“Thinking isn’t really an apt descriptor of what Synt does,” I thought out loud. Armand had settled into a flat footed squat in front of the cosmic fax machine, on the edge of the ring of sigils. He was staring not quite at me, but at the space around me, as if Synt might materialize from my aura. “Sometimes it feels like the way their mind works is itself a sort of manipulation of space and time. Maybe the way all of our minds work, when you think about it.” The fax sputtered something out, but I couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or dissension. Armand’s eyes glanced at the printout then back at me.

“But you channeled that manipulation deliberately, right? Not just specifically to Blake, but specifically to his glutes.”

“Not just that, but yeah. I sort of focused the energy and…released.”

“And what did that feel like?”

“Like…singing?” The familiar feeling danced around my vocal chords. Synt perked up in anticipation.

“Singing. Ok.” Armand began to bounce slightly in his deep squat, which I’d come to realize meant he was on to something. As he mulled over this new bit of information, his eyes traced one of the sigils on the floor. Mine, however, were locked on to the bulge made more prominent by his stance. I could always tell Armand was packing something, and under ‘normal’ circumstances his bulge would be the focus of anyone’s attention, but it was an afterthought with Lee carrying around an unmistakable pipe in his pants.

“Have you done any work on metaphysical harmonics?” he asked.

“I’ve taught the basics, but it’s not something I deal with a lot in my research,” I said. “Bouncing different planes and dimensions off of each other by fiddling with the right frequencies and resonances, that sort of thing.”

“I’ll have to dust it off, but I think we do have the equipment for it,” said Armand. “Maybe instead of brute force reality shifting, Synt is actually doing something much more subtle and graceful, like moving through the pages of a higher dimensional flipbook. Which would explain why Lee, for one, is so good at carrying such big…changes.”

I don’t know why I said what I said next. I had that taste of possibility on my tongue and you know who was pushing at the back of my consciousness, dangling a small invitation to play with the warp of the universe, compelling me to blurt out “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got him beat.” With a wink no less.

A few things happened. One, I did manage to catch the feeling of that spark of power in my throat being released in a very specific direction, straight to the crotch which I had been trying to not look at in my early morning haze. Two, the fax machine printed out what looked like a poem of some mix of text, symbols, and glyphs before proceeding to rewind the spool of paper on its own and carry on printing blanks like nothing happened.

And three, while Armand was watching his precious sensor apparatus misbehave yet again, the bulge in his slacks began to bulge even more. Like, really bulge, unspooling down his leg. To the naked eye, it looked like he was somehow oblivious to the fact that his dick was expanding in real time to over twice the amount of space it had just been taking up in his chinos, the mushroom head becoming distinct against the fabric and his balls alone putting catastrophic pressure on the stitching along the seam. Except, if one would look closer–though that would be rude–they might notice the seam continuously adjusting on its own.

I watched his package inflate as he seemingly didn’t register the changes at all. But through the other sight of Synt’s perspective, it was as if the area around his crotch, and to a lesser extent the area around his body was pixelating, shifting, and falling back into place piece by piece over and over again, resulting in a visibly larger and larger bulge until…what?

You’ve got him beat, said Synt, quoting my earlier comment with what felt like a sly smile. I had been through enough by now to know that the next move was not to investigate the prodigious member in front of me but instead reflect on the timeline–New? Altered? Unclear–that I now found myself in.

“I guess you’re right,” said Armand, “but Lee still wears it better.”

I guess I had gotten relatively used to it because we were co-workers, but Armand has by far one of the biggest dicks I’ve ever seen. Not that I had ever actually seen it, but the bulge snaking down his leg was obscene on his small frame. Even with what I assume were tailored pants, it was unavoidable and unwieldy, drawing stares and even comments in public, much to introverted Armand’s annoyance. I kind of felt bad for the guy. Rumor has it that when fully erect it’s a whopping 16 inches, somehow just slightly bigger than Lee’s schlong, which though impossible to miss, still blended in better on a frame that was two feet taller.

If what Armand had surmised was true, and Synt had let their hands play across a multidimensional keyboard, then we had been moving through proximal dimensions in which Armand wasn’t actually growing, but simply had a bigger and bigger dick for whatever reason, following the path of least resistance until he arrived at a size that beat Lee’s, and my offhand comment proved true. I loosely wondered when Noah would get his hands on him, if he hadn’t already.

Armand rose out of his squat to head to the board and add the metaphysical harmonics angle to the parking lot of working hypotheses. His gait was wider and a little awkward, but he wasn’t adjusting to his new size so much as he had already been used to it for years. Had I progressed to what Synt had been doing in my class this past semester? Moving beyond brute force changes and reworking the time stream itself? What else had I inadvertently changed about Armand’s life? What other elements of his social, romantic, or work lives had been altered in unpredictable ways by his inexplicably massive cock?

I needed more caffeine. As Lee came strolling back into the lab, I rushed past him, bounding up the side stairwell to the ground floor and the conveniently placed coffee shop. This wasn’t the most high traffic part of campus, so even during the morning rush, the baristas were bleary eyed and underwhelmed, snapping awake as I lumbered up to the counter.

“Oh, hi, what can I, uh, get started for you?” asked a barista across the counter who was not one of the usuals, made obvious by the fact that he clearly did not expect to be staring up at a man in leggings and a plaid skirt who loomed a full head taller than him.

“Just a dirty chai, and can you throw in an extra espresso shot…Jamal?” I asked, leaning awkwardly to read his nametag.

“Gotcha!”

I still felt disoriented, standing in a sleepy coffee shop having just manipulated space and time through the power of horniness. We may have finally cracked the code for at least a piece of the mechanism of what Logan had been doing originally on accident. The implications were staggering for our understandings of physics, metaphysics, reality itself. I had no idea how far the possibilities went and it sent a chill down to spine to think of what could happen on accident, let alone on purpose, but to be honest I felt powerful. And incredibly horny.

The familiar aftershock of arousal finally hit me, a deep, tingly, insatiable hunger that I quickly realized I would need to find some way to take care of this morning. Lee was right downstairs and this wouldn’t be the first time we fucked in some back corner of the basement. I wondered if Armand might want to prove the rumors true and hit a spot even his lab partner couldn’t reach. I shivered at the thought of almost a foot and a half of rock hard cock jutting off his slim, twinkish body, a completely absurd image of it bobbed in the air as he walked towards me.

“Um, excuse me?” Jamal, with an intonation that implied that hadn’t been the first time he’d tried to get my attention in the past 30 seconds, and he didn’t much care but a line was starting to form. “Can I get a name for that?”

“Oh! Um, sorry. David,” I said. “The only giant in the coffee shop. Can’t miss me,” I added with an awkward laugh.

He chuckled. “You’d be surprised. There was just a guy in here who had to be like seven and a half feet, I don’t even know. Like freak show tall,” eyes widened and hands splayed out.

“Not nearly as tall as you, right?” I responded without missing a beat. “You’ve got what, a foot and a half on him?”

In my defense I was horny. And in an experimental mood. And a little annoyed at the quip about my friend. And in retrospect, starting to get drunk on power.

But Synt got the message loud and clear, and I watched the fabric of spacetime pixelating and refocusing around Jamal as I craned my neck up and up and up to his wire rimmed glasses catching the reflection of mid morning light.

A blush across his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess so,” he muttered, with a slight smile and a roll of his eyes. “That chai will be right up.”

#male tf #ass growth #butt growth #dick growth #growth #Just Ignore It

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kxowledge · 11 months ago

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Hi, I have a question on your PhD interviews. I've applied to 2 PhDs in Norway and should hear back this month, so I was wondering how the interviews were structured and how long they were? Also how many people were present for each? Thanks and congrats again on getting the position!!

ooh where did you apply? if you don't mind sharing, feel free to send me a private message - I know some people at a couple of other unis and perhaps I can give you more specific info. thank you so much my dear!! I’ll describe below how it was for me, but it might change uni from uni.

The whole process happens at the department level. The first interview was online with the PhD program coordinator (who does the recruiting for all of the department) and my potential supervisor. My proposal was very much tailored towards this one professor and her expertise, but if there is more than one person who would be interested in supervising you, you’d have both participating in the interviews. Fit with the current professors’ expertise is one of the things they explicitly state as extremely important. I found the interview very relaxed – after a brief introduction from them, I talked about myself (the usual storyline of why you’re applying to a PhD). The rest of the questions were about previous experiences doing research, specifically about my bachelor thesis and my ongoing master thesis (but no questions on previous work experience, even though I have been a RA twice and a TA once; though I had rec letters from the people I worked with in those occasions and they may have spoken to them beforehand). Then, the rest of the questions were related to my research proposal (why is this important, more on the research setting I suggested) and which methodologies I’m familiar with. I was expecting way harder questions - I didn’t even get asked why this university specifically and I wish I had shoehorned that in my first answer tbh. Overall, it felt very chill. However! Getting the interview is the most important step! They only interviewed 15 out of around 300 applicants.

It’s actually possible that they will extend an offer already, without a second interview. The latter is more of a step for those that they need to be more sure about for whatever reason, but usually because they want to see that you understand well your intended methodology. The second interview for me consisted of two parts. For the first part, you’re asked to present a paper that they sent two to three days beforehand. This is (likely) something you haven’t seen before but that is (1) relevant to your proposal and (2) in your intended methodology. These are the two points that they really want to see in the interview, based on the feedback they’ve given me and what I know of my friends’ interviews. You’re given 20 minutes to present i.e. walk through how research was conducted, what the findings are, etc. You’re allowed (and expected) to have a PPT. I put a lot of emphasis on those two points during the presentation and I had two extra slides covering how it was relevant to my proposal, which I pulled up when I got asked about it. After your presentation there are 40 minutes of questions, which are on the paper, the methodology, your research, anything really (I got asked about supervising master students’ thesis). It can, however, last longer than 40 minutes. There are going to be 3 to 4 people in the room: your potential supervisor(s), someone expert in the specific methodology, and someone from admin/HR. They care about making the process fair and having different people involved to avoid favoritism, so there will always be at least 3 people in the room (even if, like in my case, my potential supervisor and the expert in the methodology coincide). The questions are very in-depth, so how difficult the interview will feel depends on how comfortable you are with the paper and the methodology. After this, you’re not done yet! For part two, you have three hours to answer to three questions in written form. These are written by your potential supervisor so they really can be anything, but they will be usually related to the paper and your research. There was some overlap with the questions after the presentation for me.

After all of this ordeal, it is not yet done. If they like you, you’ll get “nominated” (i.e. the email I’ve gotten), but this is not yet an offer! There is yet another committee who will decide who will get in and how many positions to fund. Specifically, the candidates are ranked beforehand and you can either have a “secure” spot or more of a “backup” spot. All of this is not transparent I know this from a friend-of-a-friend, but basically it can still happen that even if you got nominated, you don’t get the position. In some cases, the supervisor might help you find other sources of funding (e.g. an “industry” PhD), but that depends on the supervisor’s connections.

I will also say this: as I am not Norwegian, I found several things about the interview process fairly rude. I know the department and the people I’ll be working with and they’re all brilliant & everyone involved in the process has been very friendly when we actually met, but: they were in my opinion rude when it came to “scheduling” the interviews (i.e. you get told: the interview is at this time, hope it suits you); they’ve gotten my name wrong twice (… not my supervisor thankfully); they told me I would hear by the end of the week or at most by Wed the week after and then didn’t write me for a whole other week (whyyyy); they have also ghosted me once again after the email about the nomination when I asked a question. I would be a bit put off by this if I didn’t know the atmosphere that’s there already.

#replies #hope this helps though i don't know how much of it will apply to you

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inkytsuki · 3 years ago

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Yall ever been so sleep deprived that your anxiety just like. Left for a while bc it's just over it

That's me rn. And like honest 2 God. I need it to like. Stay this way bc I'm straight up not having a good time lmfao

#art prof hates me and is likely giving me a zero on that painting i spent 9 straight days on and ive been havin #a meltdown over that and emailing her #i have work due in class thats like. past due bur i literally cant care rn and she can suck it #bc shes literally sent me to the ER. im not even jokin that was....tuesday night? lmfao #cause said art project royally fucked up my back and then stress she caused me compounded #on my back bullshit from before and now i got spinal compression and a pinched nerve and #a script for muscler relaxers and a rec for PT lmfao #this also made me lose 10 more pounds 😬 which is v bad #oh and also my spleen isnt exploding. thats also my back. :)#i have a research paper for eng and an annotated bib ☠#i cant look at my painting without sobbing #adderall dose went up and im still a nervous wreck. i gotta find a new PCP/internist to help meeeee and a neurologist AGAIN #and an ophthalmologist. and endocrinologist -.- gotta go to the chiropractor. massage recommended.#my grandad had a stroke after having a heart attack earlier this year. granny got alzheimers diagnosis #cousins getting divorced and going off the deepend. sams. family. nuff said sigh #stepdad tried to reenact my most traumatic childhood memory a few days before my sis turned 18 #my mom is like...almost sane now????? hshsjs #my dad supports me dropping out of school to paint with glue. ADA letter???? dyjshshd #dropping to half time enrollment because im going to give myself a stroke. my heart rate is awful #oh and ive started having cptsd nightmares again. bc of stress. so ive been getting 2 hours of sleep #and there was a man hunt in my front yard yesterday morning. right as i was falling asleep #i need to hibernate. i physically cannot care about anything anymore at all #oh and i started my period the day my prof did the thing

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imfemalewarrior · 4 years ago

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Woah, you were a microbiologist? That's actually my college major! (I'm just a freshman but still lol) Would you mind giving me any tips you might have for bio/microbio, or anything you'd wanted to know at the time? If not that's okay!! I hope you have a good day :D

Ya! My undergrad thesis was in microbiology (specifically microbial fuel cells).

So I don't know how ur university works or if you have to write an undergrad thesis or do research to get ur undergrad degree (my institution/major required us to do a research project and write a thesis to graduate). So my advice is gonna be closer to this experience but hopefully that will still be helpful!

So in my freshman year I tried to join a microbiology lab but looking back I don't think I was ready to do that; i was ready during my junior year tho. And that's ok! So maybe give yourself freshman year to adjust to what college life and workload is like.

You can also use your freshman year to figure out what career path you want (do you want to go to grad school or industry or government work? Applied research or pure research? What areas of microbiology interest you, medicinal, energy, water treatment, greenhouse gas sequestering, fuel generation? Which ones do you want to avoid at all costs?) If you want to go to grad school or keep it as an option focus on research experiences in microbio labs and not internships.

Figure out who ur academic advisor is and develop a good professional relationship with them. They will help you stay on track with classes for graduation and now also you have someone who knows you that you can ask for rec letters.

Go to office hours!!! More professional relationships with professors and thus better rec letters.

Approach professors about their research and labs and talk to them about joining as an undergrad researcher but I don't recommend doing this is freshman year bc of what I already said. Freshman year search microbio stuff on google scholar and read research papers to learn what's out there in current research, especially recent publications!

See what clubs are available for professional development and attend those. I attended women in engineering stuff and it was helpful to me when I was starting out.

See what resume writing resources are available and ask for their help writing a resume (freshman year it's ok to have high school stuff on ur resume but ur first year at college try to do stuff that you can replace high school stuff with on ur resume, and at the end of each semester update ur resume with what classes you took during that semester to help reflect ur developed skills to ppl you send the resume to or anything you apply to that requires a resume). Also write a CV as those can include hobbies and what skills you have from those hobbies

I also do recommend studying abroad if at all possible as that was something people were extremely interested in when I was applying for internships before I figured out "i want to go to grad school" and switched tactics with the help and advice of my academic advisor (hence why you need to figure out who they are and see them at the beginning and end of every semester to make sure your schedule is correct and you're on track with everything)

Work with your classmates. Attend every class you are physically fit to attend (ie if ur sick stay home if ur physically well go to class and sit at the front ur teacher will notice you attend class) turn in all ur hw bc these are the things that show you pay attention and care about the class. Also attending office hours.

-FemaleWarrior

#microbiology #university #undergrad #college

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arysthaeniru · 4 years ago

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I think what really gets to me about working academia is that it really does exploit your passion for it in so many fucking ways. There’s never an end to work, never a fucking break. I attend classes do the reading for my classes, attend the classes I’m TAing for, do the readings for those, organize lessons plans, grade all the student papers and am available to answer questions. I also have to read additional papers in the field to stay active, I have to write papers t stay relevant, and I have to be socially up to date in the developments of my department so they don’t fuck me over on funding. I write several grants, knowing that all but one will be rejected and that it’s a horrible waste of my time where I beg for any money to do important work. I serve on four committees as the ‘diversity person’ and I do so because I want to try and make academia less hellish for the people who come after me, and after that, I still have to build my brand on twitter.

And it never ends. In three weeks, my classes are over, but I still have committees, it’s the only time I get to do independent research and I have to TA classes anyway, because I need to pay my fucking rent.

My parents work hard jobs, but at least they get to leave it at work. They can clock out and veg out, but work just fucking haunts me everywhere. There’s always more to be doing, and it’s never enough.

I’m so goddamn tired and burnt out and I’m working more than the 20 hours I’m legally supposed to TA, but I need a letter of rec from this man, so I can’t report him to the union. What’s the point of having a union, when everything in academia is at least 80% nepotism and who you know, and who you can’t afford to alienate? I just...urgh. It’s my second year. I feel exhausted. And it only gets worse. QEs are soon, and those are going to murder me, and the anxiety is just so overwhelming. Ahhhhhhh.

But I want desperately to talk about Okinawa, to Okinawans and do the scholar-activist thing. I can’t imagine doing anything but. So I guess I put up with the rest of this bullshit. But I’m so exhausted. Is this really the rest of my life?

#personal #vent #i think the worst part is the rending guilt because i constantly have 15 other things i need to do #so sometimes i'll open tumblr and immediately feel horrible for not working on everything else #and then just shut it again #there's like ten people i owe messages to and i can't do it

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cancerbiophd · 4 years ago

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Hi Julia! I've decided to apply to PhD programs next cycle and your blog has been really helpful :) I was wondering if you had any advice for not getting discouraged by other applicants? I have a lot of lab experience but it feels like there are so many people with first author papers, conference presentations, and so on that it makes me worry that I won't get in anywhere

Hello anon!

Congratulations on the beginning of your grad school journey! I'm very glad I could be of help. Please don't be a stranger if you ever have any questions about the whole process!

My advice would be to remember that you--and all of the other applicants--are more than just any one thing on your application. Every person is more than just a GPA, a GRE score, how many papers they have, the name of their undergrad university, etc. Each one of you is a unique human being with amazing and diverse sets of experiences, and you all have so much to offer to the program, university, field, and world.

And the admission committees understand this, and they will get to know each applicant as much as a whole complete person as they can from your applications. In other words, they will not just judge anyone based solely on one thing alone. On top of the “numbers”, admissions will also take into account personal statements and letters of rec, and then later, interviews. A well-rounded applicant with a passion for the field and the stamina to prove they can overcome the challenges of grad school is a much more realistic candidate than one who's all "numbers" but no "soul", if you know what I mean.

It's also worth noting that first author papers and conference presentations are not requirements for getting into grad school. They're definitely nice to have (especially for very competitive programs where the admission committees need to set their bar higher due to the sheer volume of applications), but the committees understand that they can sometimes be luxuries that not every student or lab can afford (sometimes quite literally, in terms of travel). In addition, having a lot of lab experience is definitely on par with those achievements, because in each incidence they all show the same thing: the applicant knows what they're getting themselves into (ie. the highs and lows of long-term research). I didn't have any 1st author publications or conference abstracts when I applied either, but what I did have was ~3 years of research experience!

Pep talk aside, I do want to give a piece of advice that you can act upon: Be sure to also apply to a few "safety net” or “guaranteed” schools. These are programs you’re interested in and that you know with a high probability that you meet the general requirements for and will at least score an interview. I talk more about that here to an anon in a similar situation who was also worried about not having publications/conference abstracts when applying to grad school.

I hope this helps! And my inbox and private chat are always available for you if you have any other questions. Good luck on your applications!

#grad advice

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cyraclove · 4 years ago

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Higher Pursuits

BOTW Grad School AU

“...so, if you do decide that you’ll be writing a thesis in lieu of the comprehensive examination, I’ll be the one you’ll need to speak with.”

Zelda scribbled furiously in her notebook as Dr. Kaneli continued to speak, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose every few minutes like clockwork. He’d come to Dr. Teba’s diagnostics lecture that morning to speak about research opportunities, accompanied by several of his current research assistants.

“No need to decide right this moment, of course,” he said, “but we will be needing your name and thesis topic by the end of your first year if you do select that track.”

Thesis by end year one, she scrawled onto the paper.

God, a thesis. She’d dreamt of this moment.

Had Zelda ever wanted anything more than to write a thesis? What greater pleasure was there than to delve so completely into research that you know every facet of it like you know the letters of your own name? The plethora of potential opportunities was exhilarating, her mind running rampant at the very notion of selecting one.

A hand suddenly covered hers, causing her pen to scratch to a halt.

She glanced up to see Link staring at her, an eyebrow cocked in her direction.

“What?” She whispered, “I’m taking notes.”

‘Just listen,’ he signed, ‘You don’t have to write down every word he says.’

She felt a smile tug at her lips as she rolled her eyes. “We’ll see who’s coming to who with questions in a few weeks.”

Link grinned brightly, waving a hand at her in dismissal.

“My personal field is neurological disorders,” Kaneli explained, recapturing Zelda’s undivided attention, “and if you have any interest in my research, do let me know. I am always in need of hardworking graduate assistants. It’s not easy work, mind you, but we do have fun.”

The professor then paused to smile at a young man seated amongst the other second year students In the front row.

“I’m sure you can attest to that, Mr. Medoh,” he teased cheerily. A few of the others around him chuckled lightly.

From where she and Link were sitting in the lecture hall, it was impossible to see his face. Even when craning her neck a bit, Zelda could only glimpse locks of raven hair that dusted the man’s shoulders, several strands pleated into delicate braids while some was piled atop his head in a haphazard bun.

Medoh, she wrote hastily in the margins.

Link tapped the table to get her attention before furrowing his brow and asking, ‘Why?’.

She shrugged. “Might be good to have second year connections. And quit reading over my shoulder.”

Link’s face took on a sly expression as he eyed her curiously. With two fingers, he gestured a circle around his face before pointing to the man in the first row.

“Handsome?” Zelda scoffed, “How can I think that he’s handsome when I can’t even see him? You hush.”

He waggled his brows at her. ‘I’m not talking,’ he signed.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “You can make that joke all you want and it still won’t be funny.”

“Ah, does someone there in the back have a question?”

Zelda’s face prickled hot as nearly everyone in the room swiveled around to look at her. She froze, damning her immoveable tongue for not immediately coming to her rescue with a response. She barely heard Link sniggering beside her as she stared blankly at Dr. Kaneli, an expectant look on his face.

Her gaze was drawn downward to a pair of green eyes staring up from beneath thick, dark lashes.

The young man that Kaneli had called Mr. Medoh was now looking directly at her, incredulity marring his brow. His sharp, almost bird-like features gave him a stern appearance, the strong cut of his jaw curtained by wisps of hair. The striking emerald of his irises was offset by the deep, rich tone of his bronzed skin.

Oh. He was handsome.

Someone cleared their throat.

“Ms. Farore,” Dr. Teba prompted from his seat in the corner, “did you have a question or didn’t you?”

“Oh, no. Uh, sir. No, sir,” she stammered, “I didn’t...um, no. Sorry.”

Teba pursed his lips and hummed his disapproval, but said nothing more. He instead encouraged Kaneli to continue, apologizing for the interruption. Zelda’s pulse thundered in her ears as she caught a hint of a smirk on the dark-haired man’s face just before he turned back around.

She wanted to die.

And, maybe, smack Link.

The remainder of the lecture went quickly, though Zelda registered only a quarter of anything that was said. She still felt hot with humiliation, her embarrassment taking the uncomfortable form of sweat; she could think only of how badly she wished she had a stick of deodorant and a new blouse.

When Kaneli and Teba finally concluded and announced dismissal, Zelda slumped down into her chair and covered her face with her hands. She sat amidst the shuffling of papers and zipping of book bags, letting the rest of the class file out until she and Link were the only two left in the large hall.

When she finally peeked through her fingers at Link, she saw him looking just as remorseful as he could, signing ‘sorry’ on his chest.

Zelda sighed. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. I’ve already forgiven you, you know that.”

He beamed at her, and she suddenly remembered why it was impossible to ever be cross with him in any capacity. He stacked his fists then, twisting one atop the other as he raised his brows in question.

“Yeah, coffee sounds good. You’re buying.”

The Café Bar was bustling with students just being released from class, flocking in from outside to escape the chilly October air and scrambling for a place in line. Others stood idly by and scouted for empty tables, often to no avail. Though there were several places to go for coffee on campus, the little, locally-owned coffee shop that sat just near the university was by far the most popular.

The gentle hiss of milk being steamed and the pleasant gurgle of fresh coffee brewing could just be heard above the sound of light jazz mingling with idle chatter. Cups and saucers clinked as they were cleared from tables. Zelda inhaled deeply, the comforting scent of espresso a welcome respite.

“I have a vanilla latte with extra whip on the bar!”

She nudged Link with her elbow to get his attention. They had managed to procure their favorite spot; a small circular table over by the large bay window that sidled right up to the window seat. He looked up from his phone.

“That’s you,” she said. He nodded and stood with a smile, lightly touching her shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze as he slipped behind her. Zelda smiled to herself before returning to the article that she’d been perusing, a clinical research study on the affects of naturalistic treatment protocols on aphasic patients. She’d not even read five words when she heard her name being softly called from across the café.

“Zelda, over here.”

A petite, red-headed young woman came striding towards her, her arms piled with books. Zelda hopped up from her chair to lighten her load, carefully taking a few of the books off of the top.

“Oh, Mipha, let me help you. Where’s your--wait, here, set them on the table.”

She thanked her profusely as she plunked the remaining books on the tiny table, making it wobble sadly on its narrow legs. She slid onto the window seat, shrugging her blue sweater from her shoulders. Her cheeks were a pretty, wind-bitten pink as she smiled warmly, releasing a sigh of relief.

“I thought you’d already gone home,” Zelda said, “And what are all of these for?”

“Oh, these are my textbooks for this semester. I’ve just been to the bookstore to pick them up,” she explained. She screwed up her face. “They didn’t have the one I need for my biochem class, though. I preordered that one, too.”

“You need all of these?” Zelda asked, brows raised in awe as she mentally tallied the books.

Mipha nodded resignedly. “Yes, all of them. That’s what I get for deciding to get my master’s in marine biology, I suppose. I’m on my way to the apartment, but I thought I’d stop and grab a latte or so—” she paused, copper eyes shifting their attention from Zelda’s face to just behind her. “Oh, Link, hello.”

Link nodded cheerfully at Mipha with a mug in one hand and a plate holding the largest muffin that Zelda had ever seen in the other. She kicked out his chair for him with her foot and he sat, gingerly placing his coffee on the table. He signed ‘thank you’ with his free hand, the other still absentmindedly clutching the plate as his eyes swept the café. Mipha and Zelda gave one another a quick, knowing look.

“Sidon’s still at the rec with Bazz,” Mipha mentioned, a smile in her voice, “He told me to tell you ‘hi’, though.”

Zelda watched Link’s jaw visibly clench as he sucked in a breath through his nose.

‘He did?’

Mipha nodded.

Link bit the inside of his cheek, and then quickly shrugged and focused his attention on making a dent in the mountain of whipped cream on his coffee.

‘That’s cool,’ he told her, ‘Tell him hey, I guess.’

The redhead turned to Zelda for a translation; she was with the two of them so frequently now that she’d been able to pick up quite a bit of ASL, but still needed occasional help. Zelda found that Link was particularly difficult to understand when the subject of conversation was Sidon, simply because his hands moved twice their normal speed.

“He said to tell Sidon that he’s the most handsome man he’s ever seen and that he’d love to go on a date sometime,” Zelda answered casually, unlocking her phone to open up her article again.

Link nearly choked on a piece of muffin.

“I have an americano with cream on the bar!”

“Be right back,” Zelda chimed as she got up to get her drink, looking back briefly to see Link signing ‘wrong’ on his chin repeatedly. She chuckled inwardly and turned back around, only to collide with an oddly familiar looking green cardigan.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, backing up, “That’s my fault. I wasn’t even paying attention.”

“Evidently not.”

Zelda’s eyes flicked up at the foreign voice, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized with whom she was speaking.

Oh, shit.

Handsome braids guy.

“Uh, hi. Again,” she muttered, hopelessly lost for anything else to say.

He gave her a queer look. “Again?”

“Um. I mean, yeah. You were just in Dr. Teba’s lecture? You came with Dr. Kaneli. For the, uh, research. Thing.”

The corner of the young man’s mouth quirked up ever so slightly as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Right. You didn’t have a question.”

Zelda felt her cheeks burn at the very mention of the incident, her chest tightening at the memory. The man raised a brow at her, an irritatingly amused expression on his face. She felt her eye twitch.

“Yes, well. If you’ll excuse me. Sorry, ag--”

A barista interrupted.

“Americano with cream to-go!”

Green cardigan stepped up to the bar to accept the coffee, thanking the woman who’d handed it off with an actual smile. Zelda watched him, dumbfounded, as he hoisted his messenger bag up onto his shoulder and glanced in her direction for a fraction of a second before heading for the door.

“Wait!”

The words had flown out of her mouth before she’d even had time to register them. Perfectly annoyed, he stopped to turn and face her, his eyes on her in silent query.

“About Dr. Kaneli’s research lab,” she began, “are there still spots open for new assistants right now?”

His demeanor changed at the question and he adopted a defensive, almost territorial stance. He studied her closely, eyeing her with an uncomfortable thoroughness; as though he were sizing up a rival.

“Yes,” he drawled, “Why?”

“I’d like to apply,” she responded, maybe too quickly.

He sucked his teeth. “Interesting. Well, come by the office at the clinic if you want an application. They’re due in a week.”

Zelda grinned, nodding excitedly. “Oh, that’s excellent. I’ll definitely be by, then. Thank you, um...” she paused, chewing her lip, “Sorry. What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.”

Making for the door once again, he left Zelda with her mouth partly open, staring after him in quiet disbeleif. His fingers brushing the handle, he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder.

“It’s Revali,” he said, and was gone.

Zelda stood in place for a while until he was completely out of sight, her mind fumbling with the entire interaction. Her stomach had twisted itself into a squirmy knot, a feeling with which she was unfamiliar. She felt like she’d somehow been both insulted and praised at the same time.

Revali, she thought to herself.

What a dick.

I hope you enjoyed this completely self-indulgent drabble of a Grad School AU that I’m considering. The more I think about this ship the more I like it. Thanks for reading! @botwrareships

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

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do you have any fics of john flirting with sherlock over text? maybe sherlock being utterly clueless? thank you & and much luv ❤️

Hi Nonny!!!

Ahhhhhhhhhh AGES ago, I did an Epistolary / Texting / Letters fic rec list, back before I had A System™, so it’s a bit messy but it is there :) I don’t have a lot of new ones to add to it, BUT I decided I would pull all the Texting fics from that list since I now have neater organization with tags and Chapters, and then just add my NEW fics onto that one, how about that? Would that be okay? It wouldn’t be specifically just flirting, but I think that the list is long overdue anyway!! Hope you like something on this one, and I’ll TRY to tag the flirting fics WITH flirting so that you can pick them out :)

And as always, add your own fics, Lovelies!! <3

TEXTING AND SEXTING (JULY 2020)

See also:

Epistolary / Texting / Letters (My List, 2017)

First Meeting Via Internet / Phone / Letters (Mine)

Phone Sex & Texting (Alexx’s List)

Wrong Number Texting (Alexx’s List)

They Met Online or Texting (Alexx’s List)

Message Not Sent by Queerasil (K, 762 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, One-Sided Texting, Pining Sherlock) - Sherlock texts John after the fall and during the hiatus. The messages are sent, but never received. Sequel to WORDLOCKED, TSTM, and Wait, How Do You Play This Game Again?

Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Texting, Humour, Fluff, POV John, Cranky John) – A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.

Untouchable by greengrapegaze (T, 1,368 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-S3, UST/URT, Oblivious John, Lonely Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – “He never would. Petty, childish, immature-bitter. Jealous. She had all that he wanted. All he could never have.” Part 1 of Steps to a Bittersweet Symphony

Yorkshire Gold by Tammany Tiger (K, 1,467 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Holmes Brothers, Open Ending, Grief, Implied Bondlock) – Mycroft may not mourn Sherlock's death-but even if he knows his brother lives, he's not without his own grief. It ain't easy being The British Government. But at least he's got good help. Set between the Fall and the Return.

Text Me When It's Over by immaculately-flawed (K+, 1,937 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Post-TRF, Texting, Sort-Of Pining Sherlock) – After the fall Sherlock starts writing texts to John. Of course, he never sends them... Until he does by accident. Post Reichenbach fic but not angsty.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, 2,107 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Texting, Bored/Cranky Sherlock) – In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?

The Art Of Communication by StillWaters1 (T, 2,679 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, H/C) – Lestrade was used to getting odd, non sequitur texts from Sherlock. But when "John went out for milk" was followed by a terse "two hours ago," Lestrade immediately understood three things: John was missing, Sherlock was quietly panicking, and this could all end very, very badly.

Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2,799 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Grumpy John, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pet Names, Texting, Sweet Sherlock, Princess Bride References) – John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can't find words big enough to thank her for saving John's life at the warehouse. For afters, there's a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of the Unkissed series

The Sweetest Taste In The World by crossroads (G, 3,121 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Fluff, Pining, Friends to Lovers) – The sweetest taste in the world is rarely ever the easiest to come by.

Entanglement by orphan_account (G, 3,218 w., 1 Ch. || Confessions, Physics, Metaphors, Texting, Pining, Christmas, Mind Palace, Sick Fic, Fluff, Humour, Praise Kink) - On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots.

Come home. by hudders-and-hiddles (huddersandhiddles) (E, 3,763 w., 1 Ch. || Texting / Sexting, Lonely Sherlock, Nude Photos, Pining, Fluff & Smut) – When John leaves for a medical conference, Sherlock tries to entice him back home.

Happy anniversary by Salambo06 (E, 3,772 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Vulnerable Sherlock, Wedding Anniversary, Anal, Texting, Lingerie) – John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.

Lingerie by Sexxica (E, 4,135 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Lingerie / Women’s Underwear, Mildly Public Masturbation, Picture Texting / Sexting, Bottomlock, Body Worship, Anal Sex / Fingering, Rimming, Orgasm Delay / Denial, Est. Rel.) – It's Valentines Day and Sherlock is taking John to Angelo's for dinner. Sherlock also happens to be wearing a garter belt, stockings and a rather small pair of women's underwear under his clothes. There's no dessert at Angelo's because John needs to get Sherlock home just as quickly as he can before they both lose their minds entirely.

If He Knows by shamelessmash (M, 4,513 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fic, Pining Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Angst, First Person Sherlock POV, Texting, Internal Monologue, Blanket Forts) – I imagine mornings: John handing me a cup of tea, hair sticking out at odd angles. How he would bend down to kiss me, smiling fondly as he pulls away. The way his skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his skin looks in the morning light. The soft sigh as he sits in his chair with the morning paper, the way his toes curl in the carpet, the way he rolls his shoulders before sinking deeper into his seat. I watch him, how he is when he is content, as it should be. As he deserves. Happy. With me.

Tease You Till You Come by phoenix089 (E, 6,090 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Clueless Sherlock, Sexting/Texting) – Initially, Sherlock was rather put out by John's lack of presence on the case. But then he starts to receive pictures, several of them, of an unexpected nature. The case is forgotten rather quickly after that.

What Did I Do Wrong? by Starlight05 (T, 7,880 w., 5 Ch. || Hurt Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Hospitalization, Worried Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil, Nightmares, Sherlock Being Dumb) - After John almost dies on a case, Sherlock disappears. So John is left to figure out what he can do to get his best friend back. Meanwhile Sherlock, guilt-ridden and willingly alone, is doing everything he can to stay away.

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8,737 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stroppy Sherlock, Love Letters, POV John) – Sherlock asks John for relationship advice. Little does he know that it’s him that Sherlock is in love with.

A Building of Bridges by Unique (K, 12,325 w., 3 Ch. || Drama, Alternate First Meeting, John’s PTSD / Flashbacks, Mute John, Dialogue-Heavy, Caring Sherlock, Friendship) – No one would ever send Sherlock in to diffuse a stand-off; but on one unlikely day, that's exactly what happened. "Congratulations, Lestrade," he called out sarcastically. "You're traumatizing a war veteran."

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, POV John, Phone Sex, Texting, Masturbation, Long Distance, Drunk Texting) – What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: Flirting. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

Traitor's Gate by roane (E, 17,714 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mystery, Bets and Wagers, Undercover for a Case, BAMF John, Scientist Sherlock, Teasing, Established Relationship, Military Base, Sexting/Texting, Military/Uniform Kink, Frottage, Dirty Sex, Anal, Bottomlock) – John and Sherlock go undercover at a top secret government lab to find out who is selling research. John is back in uniform and Sherlock is back in a laboratory, but they have to pose as strangers. Sherlock thinks he'll have an easy time of it, but John has his doubts. It's up to them to find out who is responsible for putting a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, and try to keep their hands off each other at the same time.

The Real Meaning of Idioms by feverishsea (T, 21,691 w., 13 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Texting, Humour, Post-TRF, Awkward Romance, Idiots in Love) - After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn’t expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,689 w., 8 Ch. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Beach Holidays, Confused Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

A Week is Just Seven Days Isn't It? by scifigrl47 (T, 39,906 w., 4 Ch. || Humour, Friendship/Bromance, Stroppy/Bored Sherlock, Undercover/Army John, Texting, Pining-ish Sherlock, John Whump) – When John heads overseas for a week, Sherlock's forced to fend for himself. It goes about as well as anyone could have anticipated. Which is to say, very, very poorly. Don't worry, things'll be fine in just seven days.

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #texting and sexting #my fic recs #Anonymous

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theredpelican · 4 years ago

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my prof said that the paper I wrote while completely drunk at 1am was so good that she’s giving me a B even though it was less than half the required word count. she said that I’m “bright” and have an ability for research and that if I wanted to apply to grad school again she’d write me a rec letter... I cry

#I mean it’s useless cause I can’t afford grad school anyway but #it made me really happy.

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years ago

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August Visitation - Yancy’s Birthday

It's a special visitation - Yancy's birthday was this week! While you can't throw him a party, you're going to make the most of the day!

Word Count: 1,008

As you gathered your items in the prison reception storage after July’s visitation, the receptionist called you over.

"I don't know if Yancy told you, but it's his birthday next month." Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. "No? Then I'm glad I said something! It's on August 13th if you want to send in anything. But if you are sending anything bigger than a letter, give yourself a few extra days in case it needs to be checked." You beamed at the receptionist, thanking her for sharing the important information.

A month to decide what to do for his birthday… surely that wouldn't be too hard.

Without the ability to bring Yancy out for the day - and conjugal didn't seem to be approved yet - you had to think outside the box. Being able to send in stuff was a great advantage, and it could serve as a red herring for the visitation day. It was so simple and cunning. You were a genius!

Taking the receptionist's advice to heart, you posted the small parcel earlier than you normally would have. A note was added for the security staff to explain what was in it so their search would be reliable, and to hold it if it was ready to deliver too early. Maybe you didn't need to do it, but you wanted to make sure it was perfect.

The parcel itself wasn't too extravagant. Two puzzle books built up its bulk: one of wordsearches, one of brain teasers. A few bars of chocolate of multiple brands were next. You weren't sure what he would like, so a few flavours were picked. Finally, a birthday card as well as a normal letter were written. You even found cheap birthday cake stickers and plastered the birthday envelope with them in lieu of attempting to post a cake.

But the true final part of the present was kept for visitation. It was a small photo frame. With a bit of research and some pleading with friends, you were able to get a Polaroid print of you and Yancy copied and blown up to fit in the frame. You even found a frame that looked as "tough guy" as possible with a little motorbike in the bottom right corner. With it wrapped in plain brown paper, it was seemingly insignificant as you passed your items through the security check. A guard nearly opened it, but you panicked and nearly dropped your phone in your rush to show a photo of what was inside. A comment of 'young love' was made as you retrieved your belongings.

You kept the present just out of sight as you hurried to the table. There was just enough time to put it and your jacket on the chair before Yancy jumped up and pulled you into a tight hug.

"Thanks for the presents. Youse didn't need to get me nothing for my birthday." You pulled back just enough to simply quirk an eyebrow. No words were needed as he dramatically sighed and ruffled your hair. "Okay, yeah, fair. 'If not my birthday, when can I?', right?" Your nod made him laugh, which only resulted in a guard yelling at the pair of you to sit down.

You had to play your cards right. Your cunning plan had to be perfect! The jacket was a cover for the present and was casually pushed to the side of the table as you asked how the birthday boy celebrated his big day.

"Hah, youse say that like I'm some kid having a party." He shook his head and slouched forward resting his chin on his hand. You couldn't ignore the amusement on his face. "Almost had my hand bitten off by Bam-Bam when he seen I smuggled the chocolate with peanut butter out to the rec yard. And then that night, we all had some of Shithole Hank's 'fancy' hooch wine. He don't make it often since it's hard to smuggle fruit out of the chow hall, but he's some sorta sneaky master like that." Before long, you were swept up in his entertaining retelling of "drunk dictionary". Apparently, it's quite fun to make up words on a completed wordsearch and try to justify what the word meant. Yancy struggled to speak through laughs as he tried to explain that "WADOAB" (pronounced "wah-do-aaab") was the art of distracting someone when they try to pour a drink. While you had zero context for why it was so funny, you couldn’t stop snickering at how Yancy couldn’t keep it together. Who knew a simple puzzle book could provide so much entertainment?

“Don’t think I’ve gotten a present from someone not in the prison in a long time… Thanks. Really. I’m gonna cherish them books ‘til they’re all ragged and tattered.”

Aha! This was your chance!

You shook your head. You had a better idea, something that wouldn’t fall into disrepair too fast. As he started to ask, you lifted your jacket, pulled out the ace, and slid the present over to him. A silence fell at the table as Yancy registered what was going on.

“Why is youse…?” He lifted the light present, only to feel something on the back and flipped it over. There, in bright colours, was another birthday cake sticker, and the pieces fell into place. “Hey, you didn’t need to get me something -” You interrupted with a wave of your hand, egging him on to open it. There was a huff of protest, but he did so…

And immediately became emotional.

“W-wait, youse…” He pawed the glass panel. “It’s us. Youse… Youse did this for me?” You nodded, hopeful it wouldn’t get taken from him. “It’s perfect. I love them little photos I gotta keep, but getting to see that pretty smile of youse’s like this… I can’t think of nothing better.”

You stretch across the table and place a hand over his, allowing your thumb to brush against his skin. You still had the whole visitation to get through. You could allow him this moment.

#yancy #yancy the prisoner #writersofmark #yancy x reader #a heist with markiplier #dramatic prisoner (Yancy)#(short and sweet!)#(read-more is for tidiness! :D )#Visitation day

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whentherewerebicycles · 4 years ago

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blurry photo of my snuggly girl! I slept badly again but I am not going to cave and pick up my ambien prescription—I know I just have to give it time and keep my sleep/wake times consistent even if I’m tired in the mornings.

I don’t have any meetings or anything to prep for class since we have a (rescheduled) guest speaker and I had already drafted the questions for her last week. so it’s going to be a research day!! at the moment I am reading a bunch of random journal articles about playfulness + the brain just to get a feel for what’s out there and whose work is cited most frequently, so I can begin to construct a sort of rough mental map of the existing research. I think today I’m going to get some oversized paper from the faculty copy room so I can actually physically start mapping out clusters of research topics by hand while I’m skimming and taking notes on articles on my computer.

also: I turn 32 next week and, as I wrote about this weekend, my goal for this year is to take more initiative in my professional life. I will set some internal goals for myself re: research and writing, but I also want to challenge myself to do one thing per month that involves putting myself & my ideas out there (applying for grants and conferences, sending out articles, working on collaborative projects, setting up meetings with people in my field, etc etc). for March, I’m going to apply for a grant from our teaching & learning center to organize a faculty learning community around a specific topic. I think I want to put together a proposal on teaching/advising first-gen students with a social-emotional learning focus. that’s not due until late March but I got the go-ahead today so I might spend some time taking notes for that.

here’s the day:

up at 7:30

coffee, lounge, answer emails

8:45 shower & breakfast

9:30 leave for campus and get gas

10-3 journal articles & mapping

take notes for rec letters

4:30-6 walk both dogs if it’s not raining

6-9 hockey game!!!!!!! :)

9-10:30 write by hand (I read a thing about handwriting and the brain and now I want to try to make a point to do more drafting & notetaking by hand)

10:30ish bedtimeee

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freykitten · 4 years ago

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Frey’s fic recs list!

I realised there’s a dry spell happening in my fic reccommendations tag (”can i interest you in this masterpiece”, perhaps with a question mark at the end idk anymore), and we’re off season, so appreciating the writers creating content now is very important, so here’s a very incomplete list of season 12 (with a smidge of CDR) fics I’m obsessed with.

It’s absolutely not all the fics I would happily rant about to everyone who listened - it’s very on top of my head - but almost all authors I mentioned have more RPDR works, so check that out and browse the tags of ships you’re interested in (that’s how I found a big part of those gems). Oh, and comment, even if it’s just keysmash or screaming. It means the world, trust me on that.

“we didn’t start the fire” by @pink-grapefruit-cafe - lesbian AU, multichap, in progress (Jankie, Ninex, Trixya + I’m hoping for Kamasia)

When I think of this story, I start smiling and bounce with excitement, because it’s just that freaking fantastic. I’m still in awe with how well Charl is executing this concept, and I stopped expecting anything less than splendind from her even before I got to know her. How does she know so much about firefighters? I’m guessing a lot of detailed research came into outlining this story and I have the most respect for that. But the plot! Okay, so it’s a firefighter AU. I can’t tell you too much not to spoil anything important, but it starts with a bang to your own head, and then it doesn’t slow down. We get to explore characters one by one, but through the lense of relationships and dynamic, and it’s done in such a smart way. I promise you’ll be hooked one paragraph in, and by the end of the first chapter- you’ll be addicted.

“A Goode Idea“ by @goodemornting - lesbian AU, one shot (Crygi)

I had and incredible pleasure of betaing it, but I’m not biased at all what I say this fic is hilarious. It’s fantastically written and had me surprised at every turn. I had the most fun reading it each time. The idea is, well, absurd. Like, literally. Crystal gets her hand stuck in a vending machine on her way to a blind date. But our girl is not a quitter, oh no, but the machine is runway commentary on Drag Race and Crystal’s hand is jokes about Michelle’s breasts. Just... can’t let it go. Thankfully, there comes salvation in a form of Gigi Goode, who’s been stood up on a blind date. Are you, like, connecting the dots here? Because they’re not. At all. This fic is prime entertainment, give it a read.

“I Remember“ by @imposterzoe - one shot (Jiji)

MY HEART WAS RIPPED OUT, SET ON FIRE, AND STEPPED ON, BUT NOT IN ATTEMPT TO PUT OUT THE FLAME. I thought about this fic and, jesus, it still hurts. It’s a great angst, truly a great one. It’s all loneliness and heartbreak and yearning that makes the lungs burn. “dear god he needed a hug. But the one person he would accept it from was in another man's arms, on the other side of the country.” - I can’t get this line out of my head and I don’t regret it - it’s a very good one, but it just hurts a lot. Incredible, incredible work.

One Direction (to your heart) by @opalescent-cheetah - lesbian AU, multichap, in progress (Jaida/Crystal)

Back to the fun stuff! IT’S A SOULMATES AU. I’M WEAK FOR SOULMATES AUs. And you might not understand my love for that trope (it’s legit my favourite one ever), but you will understand my love for that story as soon as you start it. It’s a fun spin on the soulmate tottoos trope - you’re not born with it, but once you get your first tattoo, it’s mirrored on your soulmate’s skin. And Jaida really doesn’t get the appeal of having the universe decide for you about who you’re going to love - she prefers to make that decision for herself, so when arabic letters spelling “One Direction” appear on her chest, it’s less than ideal. But she doesn’t think too much about it. That, or the fact her new coworker insists of blasting 1D songs all day long. She might not enjoy Crystal’s taste in music, but she sure enjoys her company. A lot. A whole lot.

I almost forgot to mention it, but the fact each chapter has a seperate illustration drawn for it? And they’re all so pretty? Wonderful.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered by @missjanjie - lesbian AU, multichap, in progress (Sportsdoll, Crygi)

I promised myself one rec for one author and with Joley it was the most difficult to stick to that rule (and we’ve had Charlotte on this list, and I’m whipped with everything she writes, so visualise the struggle here). But I chose this one, because it’s just!!! so good!!! Jan is a simple collage student with typical collage student problems. You know, exams, boring readings, pining for your French pen pal, morning lectures, handing in assignments on time. Crystal is her roommate, and has typical roommate problems: sharing chores, remembering which sweets are whose, and telling your secret crush you have to pretend to be in love, because your roommate decided to invite her French pen pal to your wedding, so now you have to stage everything. That’s a normal Tuesday evening for them. And an awesome story for you to follow.

“small wonder“ by wildewoman_22 - lesbian AU, one shot (Jankie)

This list is supposed to be fics that live rent-free in my head, so this one should have been put as the first one. It made me sob. It’s so unimaginably beautiful (I’m already getting tears in my eyes and I’m not even talking about the plot, oh my god). Jackie and Jan decide to have a baby, and it’s the most raw, magnificent, but also heartwarming portrayal of pregnancy and different ways to understand motherhood I’ve read. So absolutely beautiful and filled with love. Just, a masterpiece. So mindblowing.

“Some Things Are Bound To Be” by @dollalpaca - lesbian AU, multichap, in progress (Kyara)

In Polish we have that saying, “to approach something like dog would a hedgehog”, and to say that was me with that fic is like not saying anything. I love Zyanny and I’m always going to be proud of the things she creates - be it a fic, a moodboard, or a bullet journal - but I didn’t really watch CDR, and the bit I have seen didn’t convince me. So it took me a while to get to that fic. But when I did. Jesus, the only advantage of catching up on it late was the fact I didn’t have to wait for updates, because it’s so good I’d go crazy, like I am now. Kyne is an accountant in a big company, all she wants is to do her job and mind her own business. Really. Give her her papers and peace. That’s all she’s asking for. So of course she’ll get something else - a rumour she’s dating the daughter of the company’s boss. But Kiara is hot and nice and seeing her laugh makes Kyne’s heart do stupid things, so what the hell. One thing she doesn’t know is Kiara’s past, and that might complicate a few things. I don’t know Kiara’s past either and Zyan won’t tell me and I’m going crazy here. Come join me in my misery - the way her characters are written makes it all worth it.

“countless chances” by @essenceofhall - lesbian AU, one shot (Crygi)

IT’S A HARLEY QUINN/POISON IVY AU, PEOPLE. And it’s blowing my mind. The characterisation in that fic is immaculate - it’s like original personalities of Ivy and Harley were mixed with something very, very original, and it’s owned - done so surely and with so much craftmanship - they feel organic as Crystal and Gigi. This fic is the best way of creating an AU based on existing characters I’ve read, and with a lot of certainty I can say that it will remain as the best one. It’s pure brilliance. I am blown away. Impressed beyond the point of expression.

“Blue Neighborhood” by @imalwaysaslutfordrag - lesbian AU, a series of astounding one shots, in progress

I won’t write too much about this, because I probably could whip out a separate post about BN and it would be just as long. It’s one of the best stories I’ve read in my entire life, and I don’t mean just fics, I mean all literature. Every aspect I could talk about is entrancing. Phenomenal work that deserves all the praise.

#that got... long #whoops #don't regret a thing #besides not addin 50000 works more into that #can i interest you in this masterpiece?#so there is a question mark after all #support your writers please <3 #frey rambles

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