#I kept reading it like ‘hmm does this suck’

[dulcewrites]

We need more Aemond and Bealor 🙏🙏🙏🙏

So this takes place in the future. Baelor would be around 15/16 during this time. I couldn’t decide if I want to do og fcc or the modern universe. So the top part is og and the second part is modern

Can’t Get You Out of My Head

Myrah all but skips into the room with arguably the biggest smile Aemond has ever seen on her face. She lets out a wistful sigh sitting in the chair across from him. Aemond briefly looks at her, then goes back to the pages in his lap. Another restless, breathy sigh hits his ears quickly after.

“What?”

“Nothing,” then she bites her lips and giggles. Aemond sighs, closing his book.

“Myrah…”

“Alright, alright,” she claps her hands. “Since your going to hound me about it.” She leans closer as if to tell him a secret. “I know something about Baelor.”

Aemond blinks slowly in confusion. Myrah huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Have you not noticed?”

Well, obviously not.

“Have you not see how our son is behaving lately? How… off he’s been.”

“To be fair, all of our kids kind of strange.”

Myrah purses her lips, annoyed. Aemond just shrugs in response.

“He has a crush, Aemond. A crush,” she gushes. “It’s been so obvious since Lord Dayne and his family have came to court.”

Aemond’s brows furrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, he gets that same dopely look on his face that you do.”

Aemond really has no idea what she means by that.

“Do you think I should talk to him? Poor thing looked pale when were are all in the garden earlier.”

“I’m his father. I can speak to him about it.”

Myrah’s brows shoot up. “Oh… um ok.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just-,” she stops, shaking her head. “What you even say to him?”

There’s a little bit of a humor in the question. As if Myrah finds the idea of him speaking to Baelor about a crush is laughable.

“What would you even say to him,” Aemond hits back.

Myrah shrugs. “I would give a woman’s perspective on the matter.”

“I’ve been a teen boy. I can speak to him, Myrah.”

She throws her hands in defense. “I’m sure you can my love.”

So, his father never took interest in those things with him or any of his siblings. Alicent tried, the way she always tried. But in the way his mother often fumbled through other avenues of parenthood, there was no definitive talk about things like this when they were Baelor’s age. Frankly, there were far more pressing matters going on when they were his age.

There was something nice about this being possibly being the only problem in his son’s life.

And that he gets to be the one to help him through it.

Tongue Tied

Aemond had spend the first half the evening placating an emotional Myrah.

“He’s going to keep growing up, meet someone, get married, and leave me in the dust,” she sniffled with big fat tears in her eyes.

“It’s just one date.”

“Yeah, but a date leads to dating which leads to meeting someone, getting married, and leaving me in the dust.”

Aemomd tried not to laugh, pulling her into a hug. “Honey, I highly doubt either are thinking about marriage right now.”

She says something muffled into his chest. “Huh?”

Myrah looked up sadly.

“He’s my baby. Our first born, and today he’s in high school going on dates. I remember when he still needed us to change his diapers and now…”

Her bottom lip trembles again.

“He’s still going to need us. Just not to change his diapers.”

“You know what this means? We are… old now.”

Aemond snorts, and kisses her on the forehead. “Speak for yourself babe. I’m still the hottest dad at the peewee soccer matches.”

Myrah lets out a watery laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure you are.”

“I’ll go talk to him, make sure he’s ok. He gets his flare for the dramatics from you.”

Myrah swats him away.

When Aemond finally makes it to Baelor’s room, he finds his son picking at his curls in the mirror.

“Is that a gray hair,” Aemond feigns shock.

Baelor’s brown eyes get wide. “What!”

Aemond laughs, grabbing Baelor’s shoulders to turn him around. “You look fine. Handsome.”

“I think I might throw up,” Baelor murmurs. “Were you nervous on your first date with mom?”

Aemond’s mouth quirks to the side with mirth thinking back to that day.

“Do you have a coat?”

Myrah’s head tilt to the side with a laugh, and she shrugged. “My blazer I normally wear with this is in the cleaners. Everything else I have would clash with my dress.”

The dress was… something. Short and black.

“It’s going to get cold later on.”

“You’ll just give me yours.” It came with a blood red smile.

And when she asked for it later on, he sure as hell gave to her.

“Yeah, but the butterflies are nice. You’ll learn to like them. It means you care.”

Aemond finishes in his pocket, and pulls out the keys. He dangles them, snatching them away last minute before Baelor can grab them.

“You go to the door to get her. Ma’am and sir when you greet her parents. Open the all doors and pull out the chair for her. I want you back home by 11:30,” he puts the keys in Baelor’s hand. “Oh, and please don’t do the Simpson’s impressions if you want a second date.”

Baelor rolls his eyes at the last part, but nods. “Thank you.”

“Go tell your mom bye.”

“Is she going to cry,” he winces.

“More than likely so might as well get the hard part over.”

As he watches Baelor leave his room, Aemond tries not to this about Myrah’s words. He is their baby, and now he’s a young man finding his footing in the world.

His sweet first born.

[mmmilkweed]

Can we have some westerner pureshadow or shadowvanillla headcannons ? (You don't have to of course but just curious)

Hmm

I usually don't like writing because my English sucks, but I can't resist my westerners

I keep making PV smitten with Smilk in every au I make, and this one is no different. He's absolutely down horrendous for him - well. More of the idea of him. An actual outlaw. In his care? Woaw.

Since he's visually impaired, he's pretty much been confined to an uneasy and unpredictable life - so in order to survive, he's got to be smart about it. Easy about it. Living on his current ranch is that normalcy. He's got everything he'd need - a job, a roof over his head, hell, he's even got more freetime than the average Joe. But this isn't what he really wants. He idolized the freedom outlaws have, how they go wherever they please, take what they want, live in tendon with unpredictable currents of life. He wants nothing more than that.

he finds Smilk, half dead in a ditch. Having read and kept up with anything outlaw related, he knew immediately that this was a Grimfang gang member. Judging from the guns strapped to him, one of the lead beasts. He couldn't help himself but to drag the beast back to the farm stead, tuck him up in the attic of the barn and patch him up. He had the foresight to hide Smilks guns

So for the next three days he silently nurses Smilk back to health. And the first thing smilk does when cracking his eyes open... Is spit in PVS face. Great start everyone

From there it's just PV coming up the attic to spend time with smilk. He wants to know all the stories - and with each one he slowly becomes more disillusioned with the idea of an outlaw. Has to learn what to think about the fact that smilk is, indeed, a merciless killer who will likely kill again. Him. If given the chance.

I could say more but this is already long bleh bleh

[saejinniestar]

A dark thought.

Daddy k!nk, fingering, breeding, subspace, puppy!reader, human! member. IT IS DARK so if you don't like that, then don't read. MDNI.

You were his puppy, his property. He signed a contract to have you. He was the nicest out of all the men who came to see you. He knew what he wanted, an untouched puppy. Luckily, you were his first pick. He read the papers, brought here during younger years, untouched, ready to be bought. He convinced his friends and family that he found someone and that he was ready for marriage. All he had to do was buy you.

It was easy really, using sweet words and kind gestures, you were already in love. You got into his car, so excited to finally be bought. When he got to his house, you jumped out and ran inside. You ran around, smelling the new smells and seeing new things. "Are you happy that daddy bought you, darling?" You ran back to him jumping into his lap, "Daddy? Your name is daddy?" He nodded. "Thank you daddy for buying me, I love you daddy!" He went close to your ear, whispering, "Daddy loves you too, daddy is always gonna love you."

He sat you down in his lap, watching all the guests enjoying themselves at your guys' wedding. You were wearing a pretty white dress but underneath you were wearing a white silk lingerie with easy access for him. He pressed kisses to your neck and traveled up to your ear. He lightly bit it and licked the shell of your ear. You whimpered and your body shook a little. He whispered sweet things in your ear, making you slowly drift away from reality into a subspace only he could enter. "Daddy's gonna make you feel so good when we get to the hotel."

He carried you all the way up to your room. He whispered in your ear about what he was gonna do to you. He talked while you listened, eyes glazed over and head without a thought. He sat you down on the bed, unzipping your dress. His hands roamed your body as he listened to your incoherent rambling as you came back down. "Mmh, d-daddy, feels so good!" He barely brushed his fingers against your panties. "You want daddy to breed you? Get your sweet cunt knocked up?" You nodded, dizzy by the feel of his fingers. "Hmm, you wouldn't even have a choice now would you? Who owns you, puppy?" You pointed to him, humping his fingers in the process. You were barely realizing that you were still humping his hand when he moved it.

"Now tell me, puppy, who does this cunt belong to?" You looked at him, "You daddy." He smirked, taking off his clothes. "And who do you belong to?" You whimpered as he kissed you. "I belong to you daddy, you bought me so you own me." He sucked your tongue, smiling. He taught you so well, teaching you what to say and what to do. Your tail was wagging rapidly behind you.

When he left to work, he knew you’d be at home waiting for him. You’d be there, pretty collar and pretty skirt, after all you needed to be wet and ready for daddy. He’d hear about how you rubbed your bare cunt on his pillow but it never worked, you needed his fingers and dick. He trained you so well, corrupted you beyond repair. He manipulated your mind, telling you things that weren’t actually true. One of them was coming inside. You knew that daddy was always supposed to come inside you, keep it inside so it could take. You weren’t supposed to sit anywhere else but on his dick, you were his pretty cockwarmer, even while you slept. Whatever he said was right, if he needed you to have your leash on, you would.

You were happy being with him, always kissing him and needing him. He kept you right by him, needy and desperate for him, cunt always wet for him. You were sitting in his lap, his tip kissing your cervix and his hands on your chest, your tongue wrapped around his, mind far away. He knew he made the right decision several years ago, you were the perfect puppy for him.

[pablitogavii]

Jealous reader?

No need to worry, I'm yours

She kept touching him ... and here I was sitting in the car watching it all happen right in front of my eyes.

I knew it would be hard dating someone with so many girl fans who wanted all of his attention all the time. It was the fact that Pablo gave them the bare minimum and always fully focused on me.

Today I had a bad day so seeing this was the breaking point and we fought inside our hotel room. I flew with him for his away game and all I wanted was more of his attention meanwhile he was very stressed and didn't know what he did to cause my cold behavior.

"I'll take you to dinner later ..." he said after packing for his training session but I didn't reply keep 'reading' my book in bed.

"She's driving me insane with these silent treatments, hermano!" Gavi was talking to Fermin while they waled together clearly not in the mood for anything right now.

"It's girls, their way to show us something is wrong ..." Fermin answered tapping Pablo's shoulder in reassurance.

"I don't know what is wrong! Why can't she just tell me? I did nothing freaking wrong!" Gavi said tossing his bag on the rack and starting to get ready.

I was in the shower when Pablo came back having my dress already chosen on the bed and he smirked touching the red silk. He really just wanted this stupid argument to end.

"I found this Italian place ..." Pablo said while I walked in taking the dress and walking to closet to wear it. I already cooled down but the way he was looking at me drove me insane.

"Amor ... can we stop?" he walked in noticing the way I struggled with zipper so he took over resting his hands around my waist after finishing.

"What did I do? " he whispered moving my hair to the side and starting to leave kisses down my neck. I really liked the sudden attention so I pulled away just to see what he does.

"Basta nena!" he growled grabbing my hips and pulling me back against him and I bit my lower lip feeling him hard underneath his pants. God this man was driving me mad!

"Hm you'll leave a mark Pablito ..." I say shyly feeling his hold tighten on my waist while he smirked resting his chin on my shoulder again.

"Good ... you're mine nenita" he said sucking in a prominent mark on my neck and I fought an urge to moan loudly.

"Now tell me what got my girl mad at me, huh? Tell your Pablito, nena" he said turning me around so that I was facing him and he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

"You were talking to her for so long ..." I whisper and he took a moment to think before realizing what I was talking about now.

"With a fan? Aii nena are you un poco celosita, mi amor??" he pinched my cheeks and I immediately denied it. Well obviously!

"Zero celos! It's fine, whatever!" I try pulling away from Pablo but he pushed me into a corner of our closer and trapped me there against the wall.

"Hmm I like it princesa ...but hear me when I tell you, I'm obsessed with you ...and nobody else even crosses my mind. I promise, bueno?" he said in reassuring tone and I just nod still a little unsure cause the girl was really pretty. Pablo raised my chin gently caressing my cheek.

"Yo te amo, princesita ...only you" he said and it took me a little by surprise cause Pablo was never direct like this before. He really just said I love you like it was nothing straight to my face... this boy is special for sure.

"Yo tambien te amo Pablito ..." I say with blushed cheeks while he still held my face in his big hands and we looked into each other's eyes.

"Then there is no need to worry about mi amor, I'm yours bueno?" he said leaving small kisses on my cheeks while I slowly smiled again and he did as well glad I was talking to him again.

"Bueno ..." I said shyly but he wanted me to sound completely certain so he didn't let me go yet.

"Look into my eyes and say it loud and clear. Say, you're mine Pablo Gavi!" he said and I blushed looking back into those warm chocolate brown orbs.

"You're mine Pablo Gavi!" I said and he smirked nodding his head and kissing my lips passionately while his hands went underneath my dress grazing my legs.

"Hmmm yes I am baby, and you're all mine too!" he said kissing my neck and I moaned nodding my head while throwing it back in response.

"We still have our dinner reservation, but later ...I wanna hear more of those sweet moans of yours ...me vuelves loco amor" he said and I smile nodding my head asking him to zip my dress up fully and he does so as we finish getting ready for dinner.

pablogavi

All yours princesa👸🏻💗

comentarios:

gavifans: AAAAA lindosss!

y.n.bebe: mi amor💗💗💗

pablogavi: mi vidaaa

y.n.bebe: mi rey!🤴🏻

pablogavi: solo tuyo princesaaa

gavirafamily: him being proud of being hers!!!!

aurorapaezg: 😍😍😍

pablogavi: ❤️

y.n.bebe: hermanaa. liked by aurorapaezg

gaviragirls: he looks so good with her DIOSSS

gavi.y.n.fans: the forehead kiss 😍😍😍

[jobean12-blog]

It's Pedro's birthday! So it makes me wonder...how would biker!Joel like to spend his bday?

Just You

Pairing: Biker!Joel Miller x female reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 783

Summary: It's Joel's birthday and he knows exactly what he wants to do to celebrate.

Author's Note: HIIII my sweet Cia! Thank you so much for sending such a lovely thought my way! I kept it simple but sweet because I feel like that's our Biker!Joel- especially for us he's the sweetest hehe! Hope you're having the best day, love and hugs! ❤️Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's super sweet and fluffy and soft but there is some spice for sure! :)

This gorgeous edit below was done by my beautiful friend @mrsmischief209 Thank you so much! ❤️

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“So,” you start as your fingers comb through his dark curls. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”

“Hmm?” he asks, popping one eye open to look up at you.

He’s sprawled out on the couch, long legs draped over the edge and his head in your lap.

“Your birthday. What do you want to do?” you repeat, smiling down at him.

He closes his eye and smiles.

“You.”

“Me?”

Now both his dark brown eyes are focused on your face.

“Yeah, you gorgeous. I wanna do you.”

He lifts his hand and curls it around the back of your neck, tugging you down to his lips.

“Just me? You always do me. What about something special.”

His lips softly brush yours.

“Just you,” he murmurs. “You’re my favorite thing to do…and what’s more special than that.”

After a sweet kiss that still manages to curl your toes in your slippers, he releases you with a smirk and a wink.

“Well maybe we could go somewhere for the weekend and you could do me in a special place.”

“That sounds perfect,” he says quietly, closing his eyes again and snuggling into you.

“Any ideas where?”

“You pick angel. As long as you’re there I’m happy.”

Your finger twirls around a soft curl before you give it a good tug to get his attention again.

“What?” he says with a playful pout.

“You’re the sweetest but you’re also a pain in my ass.”

He stares at you for a moment then without warning lunges up from his position and flips over, trapping you under him on the couch, his weight pressing you into the soft cushions.

“Is that so?”

“Mm hm!”

His head dips and he gently grazes his nose along yours, breathing you in before he captures your mouth.

The blooming flowers blur in a rush of color and their fragrance is carried on the wind blowing against your skin as you travel down the tranquil road toward your weekend destination.

Your arms are circled around Joel’s waist and your cheek rests along his leather clad back. Even with the wind you can smell his distinct scent and his warmth permeates your clothes.

When you feel the bike slow, the engine purring lightly as he makes an easy turn down a secluded road, you peek around his shoulder. At the end, a quaint house awaits, framed by the blossoming trees and a lush area of flat land that stretches out into the woods.

The bike rolls to a stop and he props it up on the kickstand then easily slips off and extends his hand to you.

He helps you off before unhooking and removing your helmet.

“It looks beautiful,” you say excitedly.

“Sure does angel.”

His arm slides around your shoulders and he tucks you into his side as you walk down the path.

The glow from the flickering candles dance along the shiny tiles that line the walls and the calming smell of lavender wafts up through the air as you chase a bubble.

“Room for one more?”

At the sound of Joel’s deep voice you look up and instantly suck in a gasp.

“For you, always.”

He walks over and drops his towel to the floor, revealing more of his naked and tattooed skin. You take a moment to let your eyes sweep along every inch of him before he steps into the large claw foot bath.

Once he’s settled and the hot, bubbly water surrounds him you move into his waiting arms.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs as his fingertips lazily trace the curve of your neck.

You smile and gather some bubbles in your hands then place them on top of his head. You continue doing this until he has a tower of wobbly bubbles perched precariously on his hair.

“I wish I had my phone,” you giggle.

He stays still, knowing you’re enjoying yourself. You take some soap and lather it in your hands then start to rub it over his shoulders and chest. You take your time tracing every tattoo and then move to his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

“Mm that feels amazin’ angel,” he whispers.

His hands slide down your body and settle at your waist to pull you flush against him and straddling his lap.

You breathe out his name when you feel him hard between your legs.

“You feel amazing too.”

Every one of his movements are deliberate as he continues his reverent exploration of your skin. His lips kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, the corners of your mouth and finally your lips.

“This is already the best birthday I’ve ever had and I’m not even inside you yet.”

@hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814

[lumina-649]

Sesshomaru Sucks (Mainly Sesshomaru x Rin)

Yeah. I said it. Fight me. Sesshomaru from Inuyasha freaking sucks and I'm tired of people on the internet acting like he doesn't just because he's married, conventionally attractive, and has kids. I don't even have a problem with the fact people like him. I have a problem with the fact people like him so they try to act like he's not a crappy person. I don't care for any so-called nuance this guy could have. I don't care what 'redemption' he was given. I don't care for any of that. I know for a fact that if this guy was uglier than a toad, you'd all hate him. Ain't no way in heck I'm gonna back down just because y'all are okay with the pairing of this eight year old girl with an adult freaking man.

On top of being a self-centered and careless jerk, he's also a major hypocrite and his (now romantic) relationship with Rin is so off-putting to me. "He isn't abusive to her----" Congratulations, he does the utter bare minimum---is he supposed to win a consolation prize for not being the scum of the Earth? "Oh, but Inuyasha and Kagome have a large age ga---" Inuyasha was mentally & physically (meaning both qualities should be present SIMULTANEOUSLY) the same age as Kagome when they first met. Ironically enough, before the whole Kikyo situation, he was 150 (which alludes to the fact he was a teenager within the realm of his species). The only reason why Inuyasha is chronologically older than he is---is because Kikyo shot an arrow into him that kept him in a state of limbo and being unchanged. Even regarding the overly complicated realm of when and how long it takes for supernatural beings like Inuyasha to age, one thing is for sure----Sesshomaru met Rin when she was LITTLE. "Oh, but he went away for a long time and met her as an adult---" I don't care. Let's really put this into perspective and think of what that fully entails. You're a fully grown adult who knew this person from the time they were eight years old. You then move away for a long time, then return---all for personal reasons. You see the person you knew as a child and meet with them. Would it NOT be considered weird at LEAST if you were to be in that situation and then think, "Hmm, I wanna get with that." In what universe would that context NOT be gross? Who in their right mind would willingly marry someone they used to know as a child while they were an ADULT? At least Inuyasha was mentally and physically a TEENAGER when he first met Kagome. Sesshomaru has known Rin as an adult from the time her age was a SINGLE DIGIT. The fact I even have to explain any of this makes me wonder if I'm in a simulation waiting for Morpheus to wake me up. If it wouldn't be okay for Kagome to wait until Shippo was an adult to have kids with him, why is it okay for Sesshomaru to do that with Rin? It makes no sense. "That's how it was back then---" Still doesn't make it any less gross, bro :) Though, let's say somehow that I am wrong----and that there's nothing wrong with Sesshomaru's relationship with Rin---

NOPE, never mind, he's still a major freaking hypocrite. He gave Inuyasha so much crap for having Kagome with him, hated his own mother for being human, hated his father for being WITH a human----only for him to then turn around, marry a human girl, and then have KIDS WITH HER. So even if everything else that I said before this aspect of the topic is incorrect (which I really don't think it is or will be convinced it's not), you gotta admit that Sesshomaru's behavior + hypocrisy is very slimy. Heck, even if they had her first encounter him as an adult or if he was ALSO kid when they first met---I most likely would've been a lot more receptive to them being a couple. "Oh you must've not watched the show/you have poor reading comprehension---" What else is there to comprehend? A guy married a girl who he knew as an adult when he had first met her when she was EIGHT. He practically raised this girl before letting her go with Kaede. WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO ANALYZE?! "Sesshomaru didn't raise Rin---" Okay, so what the heck was he doing the whole time she was around, then? Because he was protecting her, taking care of her, making sure she had stuff----that sounds like raising a child to me. Pretty sure Rumiko (the creator) even describes him as Rin's hogosha (which means protector). Even if not, the so-called romantic feelings Sesshomaru could've had are never mentioned of when they started forming. But no matter when or how it started, it's still VERY weird because he knew her when she a----say it with me----A SINGLE DIGIT. He still knew her as an adult when she was kid, so even if those 'feelings' were to have only begun when she was (let's say) 18, it's still off. I understand that both Inuyasha and Sesshomaru were previously morally corrupt/murderous beings before undergoing the general direction their stories went in. So as the audience, we tend to forgive things from them we normally wouldn't---especially considering the overall nature of their plot. But if a character is going to be a murderous piece of crap, don't have them be a hypocritical murderous piece of crap and act like we're supposed to forget it afterward. As much as I love the addition of Yashahime (because duh, it's more content that involves characters I like), the romantic relationship between Rin and Sesshomaru felt so unnecessary to me (if not downright disgusting---which it is). Don't get me wrong, Kagome and Inuyasha's relationship is not in any way perfect either, but at least Kagome wasn't freaking EIGHT YEARS OLD.

He really should've just stayed her father figure/caretaker/platonic mentor or something like that. A cold-blooded fiend like Sesshomaru reforming upon learning to care through adopting a child would've made a MUCH better and cuter arc for him than whatever the [BLEEP] this is.

Insult me all you want, but it's the truth. Sesshomaru x Rin is freaking disgusting.

[heavyhitterheaux]

how about readers friends judging her for liking baby jack and wanting to date the “wannabe rapper”

"Y/N, out of all the boys in this school you like Jackman?" Victoria asked while looking over at you. She didn't exactly turn up her nose about it, but you could tell that she didn't approve 100%.

You were currently staring off into space thinking about how the two of you were going to study later and then go get ice cream. It was Friday and the two of you would usually stay up talking all night in your backyard as you taught him all about space. You didn't know if he was into it like you were, but he always took his time to listen to you and make it known that your interests were important to him.

"Yes. What about it?" You asked as her, Blanca, and Jess shared a look.

"But why do you like him? I just…" Jess started to say, but you cut her off.

"I just love being around him. He was the first person I met when I came here and now he's truly one of my best friends. The blue eyes and curly hair are a plus. What's the big deal?"

"Not you crushing on the wannabe rapper." Blanca said and all you did was roll your eyes.

"He's really good. I actually think he'll get signed one day."

"A white boy from Kentucky? You can't be serious."

"People already believe that people in Kentucky can't read so what makes you think that they are going to take a rapper and a WHITE boy at that seriously in the industry?"

"We are only fifteen and he's only going to get better. And I help him write songs too. I know he’s going to catch the eye of someone in the industry and get signed."

"Y/N, as amazing as that sounds, I just don't think so."

"You three are supposed to be my friends and be encouraging and positive towards me."

"We are your friends! We might not know him as well as you do but…"

"Exactly. You don't know him as well as I do. I wish you three would take some time to get to know him and be able to see what I see. I really do like him and I like him a lot. He's the person that I spend most of my time with."

"We're just trying to get you to be realistic. And the friends he hangs around? They're a little questionable too."

"They treat me like I'm one of them."

"Exactly. So since Jack only probably sees you as one of the boys, do you think he likes you like you like him?"

"I think so. At least Urban told me he does and he tells him everything."

"We just… don't want you to get hurt."

"We want to look out for you."

"I'll be just fine." You answered while looking away from them so they wouldn't see you upset.

Just then Jack came up behind you and covered your eyes and all you did was laugh.

"Guess who?"

"Hmm, my husband Justin Bieber?" You answered and all you heard was Jack suck his teeth.

"Seriously?!"

"Are you going to sing my favorite song for me?"

"Now what makes you think I know any of his songs? Even though your favorite is One Less Lonely Girl… or so I've heard." Jack asked as he finally uncovered your eyes to sit next to you.

"Ladies." He said while greeting Jess, Blanca, and Victoria who told him hello in response.

"Because when I was sick, you kept me company as I kept playing it over and over again. When you get signed you better meet him and put in a good word for me so we can get married."

"Not if I marry you first." Jack quietly said and the only person who caught what he said was Jessica who got a small smile on her face.

"I didn't hear you, what did you say?" You asked him and all he did was smile and shake his head.

"Oh, nothing. Now, where did you want to go to get ice cream later?"

[ilmapatsas]

JFJ or Francis or Silna for the character asks! :)

Thanks for asking, sorry this reply took a sec :* Too many choices!! I'll do JFJ because he's first on the list

First impression

I mean I'm sure I had to have thought something other than "ououugh hot fashion man". I don't remember what it was but I'm sure. IDK I guess I sort of read him as a like the airhead archetype but also fascinating

Impression now

I love him & his immense vulnerability & complexity. The Cairn Walk scene just decimated me emotionally. Until then I hadn't been able to really identify why I was so sucked into the show but that scene clarified it for me. His Whole Deal was just so like… instinctually relatable.

I guess it took me a while catch that actually he is also good at his job. The hygiene checks and Carnivale kind of mislead you into thinking he's frivolous, but in actuality I think both of those were good moves. And good illustrations of the differing strengths between him & Crozier.

Favorite moment

My favorite is everybody's favorite - when he storms into Crozier's great cabin and gets decked. The fashion. The anger. The being completely in the right. The perfectly timed bulls-eye insult he's kept in store for years. Immaculate.

Idea for a story

Any story where he survives GOD PLEASE (I don't have the power to imagine that happening in any way that would be narratively satisfying, though)

Another thing I'm thinking about is that historical JFJ had an adoptive brother that he seemingly very close with, and I'm wondering what kind of relationship show-JFJ would have with a hypothetical brother. Like would he, before conjuring his gilded persona, at some point have been able to form actual secure attachments? Or would it show a different (maybe rawer) facet of his insecurity? Etc Etc

Unpopular opinion

I'm starting to think I don't have many unpopular opinions. Hmm. :I

Favorite relationship

Crozier <3 Of course. Literal married couple and then some. They hate each other because they're the same and then love each other because they're the same. And for someone who's so immured in such thick walls to find a way to open himself up to someone is really the ultimate journey.

I don't really ship Fitzier though because characterizing it as romantic feels like it reduces the intensity & intimacy somehow. Because it's like… It's its own thing.

Favorite headcanon

So I was googling Victorian underwear (as one does) and I discovered that in the 1800s men had shapewear, like padding in their jackets/waistcoats, to get the fashionable figure of the times. And yes, corsets. They were somewhat taboo around the mid-century, I believe, as obsession with appearances was seen as effeminate and dishonest. But luckily there were also health belts, a.k.a. Totally Manly Not-Corsets. Yes they cinched the waist and maybe even laced up but only to give support to the core during all kinds vigorous masculine physical activity. Such as one might expect to perform as a military officer.

I'm not saying JFJ wore a Manly Not-Corset for sure, but it's not outside the realm of possibility

[freelanceexorcist]

Minor Rebirth spoilers under the cut.

I just realized something (I told you all it takes me a few tries for things to sink in).

Here's a screen grab of the Gast journal Sephiroth is reading out loud from right before he loses it:

Now this is probably just a stylistic choice to show the audience how top secret the Jenova Project was, but why are parts of it redacted? And at what time were the redactions made?

It just seems like an odd choice. If a document contains information that's sensitive enough that redaction is required for parts of it, why leave it in the basement of an abandoned mansion that anyone can access (difficult as it is to do so)? Why not move all of them and store them in a secure facility that can only be accessed by those with the proper clearance?

Yeah, I know we're talking about scientists that suck so bad at recording data that they didn't even document the date of birth and the blood type of the project's only successful result, but still.

This leads me to think that the redactions aren't of anything top secret, but for the purpose of spreading disinformation. I can't help but wonder if my suspicions about Hojo having a hand in engineering Sephiroth's breakdown are correct and that he wanted him to have disinformation for that reason. The blacked out parts may have led him away from the conclusion that Hojo wanted him to come to.

So what has been blacked out? Lucrecia's name? That she's Sephiroth's mother and Hojo is his father? References to pregnancy and birth that would inform Sephiroth that yes, he was born and not manufactured so therefore, yes, he was a human being that was fucked with in the womb? Mentions of Vincent? Anything that would justify or explain why his childhood was so awful and why he was kept isolated?

And as far as who did the redacting and when, you know Hojo did that shit. And he did it right after he decided that it would be great for science to drop Shinra's live nuke into a small town then slowly drive him to a breakdown with disinformation. I wonder how many entire books were removed before Sephiroth and the gang showed up.

I wonder if this will come up at all in part 3. If not, I'm just overthinking it as usual. But if it does...hmm.

[xaeyrnofnbe]

ok whatever y'all are hearing it anyway whether you like it or not

overly specific idea for how i'd want tedbecca to get together over the course of a hypothetical season 4

ok so:

this story starts with ted returning to the club after about a year away, early in the day so he can catch rebecca for biscuits with the boss

and rebecca's been like. hardcore yearning. ted has too he's just been less aware about it

ted hands over the biscuits and jokes that rebecca's more excited about them than she is about him, which turns into a dorky awkward-sweet moment. the romantic tension and pauses have been dialed up to 11 btw

rebecca mentions that she broke up with dutch boat guy, and we find out he actually kinda sucked. just trust me on this. his vibe was weird alright

he mentions that he's been going to therapy, rebecca asks how that's been going, we flash back to a session with whatshername (i'm blanking rn. sorry) where the doctor comments on how he only ever seems to want to talk about rebecca (similar to on the good place, iykyk) and he does that awkward-blank-smile thing he does when he gets unexpectedly read by her. flash back to the present and he says therapy's been going fine

rebecca asks about an article he had sent a bit ago about a lioness becoming leader of a pride, confused about its relevance to the text conversation they had been having. he explains that it reminded him of her, which she then quickly understands and appreciates

later on, same day probably, rebecca's talking with keeley and it comes up that rebecca and ted never really. talked? while they were apart. they texted and shared things but it was very stilted even though ted had kept up pretty actively with other members of the club. hmm weird

at some point, probably an episode or two later, everyone's closing up shop for the day. ted holds the door to the parking lot open for rebecca like in season 1, and jokes about deja vu. they chat briefly, rebecca says how great it is to have ted back, and even though they didn't talk much while he was away, she really did miss talking to him.

he invites her to walk and catch up on everything they missed, even though her car is right there, and to his surprise, she hastily agrees.

cue short montage of them walking through town, swapping stories which have been cut at humorous places. they arrive at rebecca's home and she stands in the doorway as ted says that he almost forgot to give her this, and pulls a goofy-looking stuffed lioness in a dress out of his backpack. he says his cousin or something makes them and he put in a request

rebecca is so touched by the gesture she announces "i could kiss you!"

awkward silence. staring.

"goodnight ted." "yup. goodnight." she slams the door and ted walks home

not really sure what goes here. but a good chunk of time is just more buildup and cute moments. at some point though, rebecca sits down with jamie of all people, and asks for his advice on a hypothetical workplace romance with ted. and that he keep this conversation a secret. he, in his infinite wisdom, tells her that she should just go for it and tell him how she feels bc it'll be great for her either way, A. he doesn't feel the same way and likes her as a friend anyway and now rebecca can be more open and comfortable with her feelings, or 2. he DOES feel the same way, on which case it'll all be fine bc they love each other and he's ted.

rebecca tries to argue, saying that emotional vulnerability like that is terrifying, and change is terrifying, and jamie just kinda gives the same advice and they go back and forth a bit until she dismisses him

there's also some stuff probably about ted realizing more about his feelings for her but ehhh i don't really have any ideas for that just yet

more time passes. late-season episode now. time for the bombshell of the year, tension has been rising and begging for a payoff and they're both well aware of their feelings at this point, and just kinda waiting for the moment to bring it up. well, this is that moment. rebecca appears in the doorway to his office and he apologizes for not being here for it last year, and is just barely done jabbering when rebecca strides over and plants one on him, which is met by shock and then reciprocation. a brief pull away, ted is speechless for once, before they kiss again.

they're interrupted this time by the team cheering in the other room, having seen the whole thing through the window. ted hurries and closes the blinds and returns to rebecca, and they giggle and discuss what they should tell the team, as they clearly have to say SOMETHING now

cut to ted addressing the team, who are all interjecting their (mostly positive) opinions on the matter, (sam has some mild concerns and discomforts,) which ted shuts down, and also scolds them for invading a private moment like that. but still, he gives them a talk not unlike a parent talking to their kids about a new partner. it's cute, it's silly, mcadoo asks if this means they love each other. zoom in on ted's face as he says yes. (but in a more ted way y'know). the team cheers again

i also have a loose idea for them going to a fancy event sometime later and getting all dressed up, and it's basically an excuse for them to flirt and be affectionate publicly for the first time, and ted jokes about it being sorta like a prom, and all sorts of shenanigans ensue. they sneakily make out somewhere. it's all very silly and feelgood and lighthearted

the biggest thing i haven't really had ideas for is any more angsty scenes, which of course there would have to be. some of my favorite scenes of them in the show are of them being there for each other during impossibly hard times and terrible emotions, so of COURSE there'd have to be a lot of that. oh well. i hope you get a sense of the picture i'm trying to paint here

[bodybeyondstories]

dicks keep growing around me - 3 (Ty)

Ty, Myron's roommate, reflects on the mishaps and frustrations of their own mysterious dick growth, as well as its unexpected benefits. Notably, their newfound enthusiasm for autofellatio. They have their doubts about Myron's ability, but might be convinced after an explosive episode in their car.

1 | 2 (Previous) | 4 (Next)

[ dick growth // huge cock // self suck // growth ]

4720 words

-----

“What do you mean they’re growing around you?” I asked Myron, driving us home after my shift finally ended.

“Like, ya know…bigger,” he said from the passenger seat, splaying his hands for emphasis.

“Hmm, I mean your booty’s been looking pretty nice lately,” I laughed. “You sure the boys just aren’t a little too excited?”

“No, I mean like, you’ve noticed yours is much bigger than it was a year ago when we moved in, right?”

“Yeah, definitely, but that was like a late growth spurt or something. It happens.”

“When does it happen? You’re 28.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And Miguel’s is much bigger than it was six months ago when I first started working in his office.”

Of course I had noticed the prominent bulge in Miguel’s khakis, but Myron sounded like he had some firsthand details of his boss’s supposed growth. I made a mental note to squeeze that tea out of him later.

“Six months?” I asked, my interest piqued and the gears beginning to turn in my head. “Then if you’re right, he might be in for some fun times pretty soon,” I added with a chuckle.

—

Several months previous, on a clear winter morning, I was trying something new. Myron was starting his new job with his studly l’il office mate, which was changing the dynamic in the house somewhat, for the better I hoped.

We’d moved in together last summer having barely known each other–we were both in dire straits trying to find a new place and a mutual friend connected us–and had settled in to a surprisingly chill dynamic. Neither of us was the 9 to 5 careerist type, leading us both to string together personal projects, freelancing, and whatever seasonal or temporary gigs we needed to get the rent paid. Consequently, we had domestic routines that were always shifting, sometimes work-from-home, sometimes office gigs, sometimes third shift, so this recent change was nothing new. We had fallen into a routine of constantly adjusting to each other’s routines, which may have only worked because we really did get along as friends. Not that we had much choice, practically living on top of each other in what used to be the cozy attic of an early 20th century mansion turned into affordable (read: poorly maintained) apartments. At the time, I was working as a ghost writer while bartending on the side, so my mornings were pretty open and I let Myron have the run of the place bopping around getting ready for work while I stayed snug under a generous layering of blankets, also kept warm by the heat emanating from the all too familiar weight laying against me.

Most people, I imagine, might be freaked out to wake up to chest high morning wood insistently pulsing against the fabric of the sheets and the hair of my torso in anticipation. But I guess I had had time to adjust to this mysterious growth spurt that had started the previous summer and didn’t seem to be stopping. I let an exploratory hand dance along my shaft, sending a shiver of pleasure down to my toes, then lifted my dick slowly, feeling the weight of it, and let it fall against my chest with a wet thwack into a small pool of precum that was already forming. Not wanting to ruin a third set of sheets this week, I pulled myself reluctantly out from under the covers and grabbed an old towel from the hamper, my hardening cock bobbing in the cool morning air as I got set up and got to work, dimly registering the sound of Myron leaving.

The week before, I had been camming (another side gig, with some play mixed in) and received an interesting message. With one hand running up and down my long dick and the other pushing anal beads into my hole (the scene carefully positioned for the camera), I almost missed the question that popped up in the dialogue box: Can you suck it?

Truth is, I had never been one for blow jobs. I’ve never liked the feeling of someone putting their mouth to south, so to speak. I’m usually somewhere on the ace spectrum. Depending on the person, I can take or leave sex, but I certainly know how to take care of myself with enthusiasm. So I hadn’t considered the possibility of sucking my own dick, or even if it would be enjoyable. 

 Of course I had seen videos online of guys successfully getting their lips around their own cock heads–at least one freak of nature making it some way down the shaft–but I never imagined myself at that level of talent or expertise. I had just assumed it was some magical combination of being super flexible and super hung. But that comment stuck in my brain. And apparently one of my handful of horny digital followers thought I had the latter if not the former. 

So I took the plunge. As I tilted my face down, ungracefully straining my neck, my lips met the salty stickiness of my head, already excitedly leaking. I lapped up my own precum as I traced the curvature, still sleepily nuzzling around my slit until I finally went all in, getting my lips just past my glans and sucking carefully on my own member. 

I was immediately hooked, reveling at first in the novelty of sucking my own dick, but slowly falling into deep pleasure. I had never been all that great at cock sucking, but this was lovely. I was still getting used to a dick was constantly larger than I remembered it being, but I managed to get as much of myself into my own mouth as I could before hitting the limits of my own flexibility. 

Periodically, I would lift my mouth away, leaving viscous trails of spit and pre, and marvel at the sight of it. As if the dick I remembered from several months ago, that I had assumed was just my standard issue member, had somehow been scaled up. As I slipped the head back past my lips, I let out a heavy moan as I almost gagged on the gush of precum that erupted. I continued with this routine until I felt an orgasm imminent, sending tremors through my body as I worked diligently, my hands playing up and down my shaft. Finally, that all too familiar pulse erupted from deep inside, traveling up my shaft and sending ropes of jizz into my mouth, which began covering my face as I pulled my cock head back into the cool morning air.

Ok, I thought. I get the hype.

—

I guess in the weeks and months previous I had taken note of the fact that my dick had been hanging lower and lower, but I hadn’t noticed until that fateful morning. Those first six months with Myron had been a whirlwind of re-adjusting to roommate life as well as navigating our own wacky schedules, habits, and routines. After a few months, more and more of it filled my hand every time I jerked off, which I chalked up to being inexplicably, increasingly horny. My subscribers clocked the changes well before I did, but I had been used to a steady stream of messages and comments heavily influenced by their lustful gaze and my own use of flattering angles. And if they wanted to get caught up in the idea of some fantastical growth spurt, I figured let ‘em. I was there for the fantasy anyways. 

My new talent quickly became my new obsession, and after I debuted it on cam, I got a deluge of new subscribers, tips, and engagement. And with that, the small frustration of facing discourse about how my dick simply couldn’t be real, along with all manner of carefully dissected screenshots alleging everything from silicone to photoshop. As one person said, Their dick was already big, they don’t need to do this fake shit. But the money was good and I figured I was already selling a fantasy one way or another. And if people believed it was fake, that meant less attention from people wanting an explanation that I couldn’t really provide, or god forbid, wanting to meet irl. Besides, I didn’t think of it as more than a party trick, albeit one that ended with very mind blowing, and very real, orgasms covering my face with gobs of jizz. And the crowd, per usual, would go wild.

Thankfully, the growth slowed down around this time, and the claims of dick deception slowed down with them. And with Myron out of the house at his new 9 to 5, I could really take my time becoming intimately acquainted with what I was packing. As I settled into this new routine, and as late spring rolled around, I wore less and less around the apartment, especially when Myron was at work. Not only had my dick grown long enough to tap politely at my chin, but it was getting difficult to last more than several hours without draining the beast.

One day, with nothing better to do until the shift at my new kitchen gig, I fiddled with the recipe for my homemade pot brownies, underestimated how strong they are, and ended up spending the afternoon splayed on the couch, dozing in a sunbeam. I was falling in and out of the weirdest dream about some guy that was somehow magically inflating dudes’ butts through horny chaos magic, culminating in some sort of showdown in the forest. I had already gotten myself off three times that day, so I guessed my constantly aroused mind was getting creative. And, plot twist, I awoke to see Myron’s cute buns turning to lock the front door as he got home from work. I had to meet this new boss who was overhauling his wardrobe, his ass looked great these days.

“You’re not gonna believe what happened last night,” he said. “I was at this show with Miguel and, I, um…”

He trailed off, intently staring, and then intently not staring, at the general area of my crotch, currently featuring a thin pair of tye dye sweat shorts for the warmer months. I didn’t think Myron had thought all that much about my recent gains downstairs, he always seemed not to notice, or at least not to notice for too long. As he set his things down, he tried to stammer out something about this party they had hit up the night before, unsuccessfully trying to string phrases together. I decided to give him a chance to reset with a “You’re home early! They finally let you go?”

He switched gears and glanced at me quizzically, responding “It’s 5:45, if anything my bus was late.”

“Ah. Fuck,” I groaned, realizing that the warm afternoon sun streaming through our living room windows had adjusted to the lengthier day with summer approaching. I, however, had not, and was already late for work. What was left of my high began quickly wearing off as I sprung from the couch, my semi soft monster moving with its own inertia and threatening to flop out of my shorts–and likely short circuit Myron’s already weary brain.

I threw my backpack together, grabbed some shoes, and headed to the door. I figured I could show up looking messy and change into the backup uniform I kept in my locker.     

“Look, I need to head to work, fill me in on the rave later, okay?” I said, shooting him a lazy smile as I headed out the door. “And invite me next time!” 

As I was hustling down stairs and half jogging down the sidewalk to my car, I got the same looks from passerby as the one from Myron; entranced, but desperately trying not to be. As I strolled up to my subcompact hatchback–what I would call retro, distinguished even, but most would call old–I caught myself in the driver side window reflection. Specifically, I eyed a bulge that made even me gasp. Ok well that explains some things, I thought, mentally hitting myself for inadvertently showing a bunch of unsuspecting pedestrians much more than I’d intended.

There weren’t many onlookers as I slipped into the kitchen through the back–my co-workers were busy and it’s not like they weren’t already aware I was packing something major. Thankfully, I did have a pair of black work slacks waiting for me in my locker, and while my bulge was less visible, they were definitely more constricting. Around this time, I noticed that my gait had been changing slightly as more and more of my cock took up any given pant leg, but the last time I had worn these was several inches ago and they hadn’t had time to adjust, making my stiffened posture painfully obvious.

—

I wore an apron at that job that covered just enough of my lap to mask the fact that I was sporting an unmistakably, unexplainable, ungodly dong. But as spring turned to summer, more and more of it began to show from out the bottom, especially when increasingly studly and sweaty hikers wandered in with less and less layers. When I finally saw Myron’s boss, Miguel, sitting with him across the bar, I almost sported a boner that threatened to wrap halfway around my hip.

When things calmed down–in the bar and in my pants–I decided to introduce myself with the gift of fries, and some made up story about a customer who didn’t pick up. As I approached, I felt some weird magnetic energy, like I was being drawn to Miguel. Specifically, like my dick wanted to point due north to his own unmistakable bulge. Based on how uncomfortable it was getting to walk in those pants, I guessed that my cock was responding accordingly. At this point, I was used to the blatant stares of people who thought they were being subtle, but Miguel was laser focused on my crotch with a look that implied he was trying to piece together a deeper story.

I don’t know what came over me, other than the fact that he was cute and I enjoyed messing with my roommate, but I decided I might as well show off the goods, giving Miguel an indulgent view of my trouser snake from multiple angles. As I walked away, I felt that same tug from behind, as if I could feel his eyes drilling into me.

Ever the gentleman, Miguel had insisted on hanging with Myron until I finally got off my shift, not that I was complaining. As we parted ways, I took my own indulgent look at his perky backside in those tight khakis, that weird feeling of connection slowly fading as I jumped into the car with Myron. We sat in silence for a little while, the space between us filled with the sound of my after work chillout synthwave playlist. 

“So,” he said. “I have a theory.”

“Is it about this hot boss you’ve been keeping from me?” I asked.

“No, it’s, Miguel? No…so I think–”

“Because frankly I’m disappointed you’ve kept him hidden for this long,” I interjected.

“Dicks keep growing around me,” finished Myron. “I think.”

I sat in silence for a few beats, before laughing at the absurdity. “What?”

And then he laid out his whole theory as we drove toward home. With previous people in his life and their unexplainably large members, wrapping up with Miguel and I.

“That’s a hot story,” I said. “Complete nonsense, but hot.”

“You never suspected something was off, like you never saw a doctor about it?” he asked.

“No, it works fine,” I said. “Works better even. It’s just really, really big.” I adjusted in my seat slightly from becoming reminded of the size of my appendage, not to mention all this reminiscing about my dick was getting me worked up. Sucking myself off after long kitchen shifts was an otherworldly experience, and I was looking forward to getting home. Actually, I was getting more and more worked up as the conversation continued. All this talk of expanding dicks and the past year of growth was activating a ticking time bomb that was creeping down my pant leg.

“What’s wrong?” asked Myron, looking worried as I could no longer hide the fact that I was visibly distressed.

“Well,” I said, gesturing at the lengthening bulge, my breathing becoming heavy. “Once it gets going, it really–”

“Gets going,” said Myron. “Yeah, I’m starting to pick up on that. Can I do anything?”

“No, it’s fine, we’re almost ho–augghhhh.” My dick surged against the fabric of my slacks, painfully constricted against the confines of material that for some reason was not designed for a raging monster cock. It felt white hot against my leg, furious at the lack of attention, and urgently trying to garner some relief.

“That doesn’t sound fine,” replied Myron, worry entering his voice.

“No…really…happens all the time,” I squeaked out, my mouth salivating at the thought of my massive member finding its rightful place between my lips. My belly followed suit with a rumble of hunger, echoing the yearning I could feel deep in my throat. “I just…” I tried to adjust myself into a more comfortable position but only succeeded in sending a jolt of pleasure through my body that was so intense I almost lost control of the vehicle. Myron grabbed the wheel and began dutifully steering as I took deep, calming breaths.

“Is this normal?” he asked.

“Well ‘normal’ is relative,” I quipped with a wry smile, one of many truisms I liked to throw out to his annoyance. “But this is…a little more urgent than I expected.”

“Ok, well, we’re almost home, just focus.”

“Ok,” I breathed. “Focusing.” 

I kept my eyes on the road, trying to let myself fall into the smooth electronic rhythms coming out of my speakers. I thought about ice cold showers and used car commercials and every rude customer from the past week. But definitely not about Miguel’s perfect bubble butt. Or my roommate’s pillowy buns. Or my roommate’s pillowy buns meeting whatever it was Miguel was seriously packing down there. Or how even that would pale in comparison to the pipe that was sending waves of agonizing pleasure up my spine as I felt every square centimeter of contact squished between the fabric of my slacks and my own sweaty leg. A sensation being made all the worse by the steady drip of precum that was threatening to start gushing as my taint began to contract and pulse with anticipation. I was swimming up to my eyeballs with orgasmic need, struggling to coherently process the cacophony of sensations and stimuli, and managing only a soft “Oof.”

“Oof?” asked Myron. “What’s oof mean?”

“I, um, don’t think we’re going to make it,” I muttered through clenched teeth. With my hands at 10 and 2–and Myron’s at 4–I heard the unmistakable sound of what I didn’t think was possible outside of my subscribers–and my own–weird fantasies. With a series of steady, sharp rips, the interior seam of my pant leg finally gave up in the face of the log extending from my groin. My dick, finally free, thumped against the steering wheel then rose with surprising grace directly to my eager, waiting lips. The growth had thankfully slowed in recent months, but as I tasted and felt my own hot, sticky, mushroom head before seeing it rise into my field of view, I came to a realization somehow more exciting–and upsetting–than the one on that fateful morning six months previous. If things were to continue on their current trajectory, my fully hard cock may soon reach past my mouth entirely. I was terrified by the prospect of losing easy access to my schlong for the most comical of reasons, while also titillated by the prospect of learning anew the meaning of too big. I realized that I really didn’t know how long this mysterious growth would last, and even worse, if it would ever end. I decided I might as well enjoy it before things became truly unwieldy. And besides, there was only one way to get this thing back down.

“Do you mind if I…?” I asked. 

Myron, my passenger princess, hand still gingerly holding the wheel, was rendered speechless by the scene before him. I let him finish the question in his head.

“Um, well, go ahead,” he stuttered.

With orgasmic relief flooding through every cell of my tense body, I gave in, swallowing as much as I could into my waiting throat.

It’s a miracle I managed to keep my eyes on the road through tears of unrelenting pleasure as I slid my lips down more and more of my own overgrown shaft. Any other drivers whose gaze wandered in our direction must’ve gotten quite a show. How many times do you get to see someone milking their own megacock behind the wheel of a moving vehicle–which, come to think of it, would be a great idea for premium content. If my subscribers were starting to stop believing all of this is real, then I might as well lean into the novelty.

We pulled up to our building, miraculously getting a parking spot right out front, and I could finally focus enough to get myself over the threshold of release, using my free hands to work more of the shaft and wander down to massage my taint, periodically squeezing my nutsack, which felt swollen with pent up need. I had given up being concerned about the fact that Myron was still sitting there like a deer in the headlights, instead focusing solely on bringing myself to climax. 

But the finish line remained elusive. The harder I worked the more intense my dick pulsed with an angry heat. I swear, I could feel it growing with every heartbeat, stretching slowly to the rhythm of my strokes, pumping with more girth that I thought my own esophagus could handle. I was stretched to the limit, gagging on my enormous tool and losing myself in waves of orgasmic bliss, until finally I came. 

And came. 

And kept cumming, pumping what felt like an endless reservoir of jizz into my throat until I could no longer swallow it all, pulling my engorged head from my mouth as it continued shooting ropes of cum onto the ceiling, the dashboard, the backseats, and yes, my awestruck roommate, who had not taken the chance to flee the vehicle in terror, opting instead to take shots of warm goo directly to the face. After what seemed like an eternity, I ran out of spunk, or at least my body no longer had the energy to keep shooting indefinitely. My ungodly dick began to deflate, still leaking as it fell softly against the steering wheel. 

There are no words to describe the awkwardness of turning to see your roommate casually wiping globs of your warm jizz out of their hair. 

“So I’m guessing that was not normal?” he asked.

I took a beat and responded, “No…no, that was pretty new,” letting the tension sit in the air between us before we both burst out in deranged laughter.

“I…somehow will find a way to make this up to you,” I said.

“I’ll take the first shower. You can start with laundry.”

—

I woke up half expecting–and dreading–my morning wood to be kissing me gently on the cheek. I was certain I had had some sort of growth spurt during the incident last night, and was at a loss for what to do with a cock that could literally eclipse my face. But, to my pleasant surprise, it only went up to its usual spot, right at the chin. Small victories, I thought, as I leaned down to give it a gentle kiss before I began dutifully sucking myself off.

As I bumbled through my morning routine, even more groggy than usual from last night’s events, everything felt slightly off. Moving through space was a slightly different negotiation, the bathroom counter wasn’t quite where I expected it, my toothbrush felt different in my hand. My dick, however, felt very much the same, gargantuan as usual but at least a familiar mode of gargantuan. I still marveled at the sheer size of it, pointing down to the toilet bowl under its own weight as I relieved myself. What am I gonna do with you? I thought, giving it a gentle shake to clear any remaining drops. I had passed through the realm of comical and ridiculous months back, and it was surreal getting used to an appendage that could only be described as unbelievable. How would I even begin to explain this to people, let alone keep it successfully hidden in public? Problems for a different day.

I threw on a crop top and my usual pair of sweat shorts, noticing that my clothes also felt slightly off on my body. As I ambled into the kitchen to find Myron making coffee, I adjusted my dick to run along my hip, but the shifting movement of my legs and my lack of underwear caused it to fall straight down, poking out the bottom of my shorts. I decided this would also have to be solved later, and besides, my roommate had been through a wildly more indecent experience not twelve hours previous. 

“Hey man, sorry about last night,” I said. “It was kind of an emergency situation, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, I guess it is…somehow my fault,” Myron said introspectively, his eyes landing on the python swinging in my loose sweats.

“You’re still on this theory,” I laughed. “The magic dick situation?” I gave a thoughtful scratch to the scruff of my chin.

“You still don’t believe me,” accused Myron, turning fully from the coffee pot to lean against the counter, folding his arms in his usual defensive stance.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender, “it’s just that I would maybe like more of a preponderance of evidence. More than my…condition and the fact that your boss happens to have a really big dick that you keep getting to peek at for some reason.” My eyes came out of a roll to narrow on Myron, trying to catch him off guard by turning the tables toward whatever workplace dalliances he’d been keeping from me.

“It’s not like that,” he retorted, his eyes widening. “It’s a couple of mishaps and coincidences.”

“Just a few.”

“A couple.”

“Almost a pattern.”

“Be that as it may, how do you explain last night?”

“How do you explain it?” I returned, but decided to play along. “Honestly, I could have sworn it grew again.”

Myron looked taken aback, his head tilting to the side. “Well, I mean, it did.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so. I’m pretty familiar with this guy, I’m thinking he may have finally plateaued.” I leaned casually against the kitchen cabinets and sat my butt on the counter, that feeling of slight disorientation still sitting with me. Everything in the space just felt a little off. I wasn’t trying to put my dick on display, but at this point, I had given up hope of hiding this thing. “Can’t even imagine things getting even more disproportionate.”

“No, that’s what I mean,” he said, staring intently at me. “It grew, but so did the rest of you.”

I laughed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “The plot thickens,” I said mockingly. “Let me know when the coffee’s ready,” I said, turning to head to the next room and whacking my forehead into the top of the doorframe.

He rushed over to catch me as I fell on my ass. My balance was completely shot as I realized that my center of gravity really was significantly higher than it had been last night. My crop top wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was constricting, and, taking notice of the hem, was actually never cropped even though it sat just above my belly button. I noticed that my shorts, similarly, covered much less of my thighs than what I expected. My gaze turned to my long, long legs, the heels of my feet resting completely outside my house slippers. 

Okay, I thought. He might have a point.

[jynrso]

laid to rest

For the first time since drinking Tav's blood, Astarion has a nightmare. Eager for some sort of distraction, he goes searching for it. . .but quickly finds out that he isn't the only one in the camp with past trauma. tw for unintentional ableism on astarion's part due to a misunderstanding. it's small and he does . . . "apologize" in the only way he knows how, but i thought to mention it, just in case. if you'd like to know what the situation is before reading, skip to the end note. read it on ao3!

With the taste of Tav’s blood on his tongue, over the next few weeks, Astarion feels more powerful than ever. More alive.

For all its “supposed dangers,” the Underdark had hardly been a challenge –– not for him, anyway. It had been near effortless to carve through hordes of duergar and anyone else who’d gotten in the way of his blades. 

Without the constant hunger gnawing at his gut, he’s able to watch his companions more closely. Though he’s got an in with Tav, it doesn’t hurt to diversify his interests in case their partnership sours. (Not that he has any interest in that happening –– her blood is still the best he’s tasted.)

But despite his best efforts, his attention keeps moving in her direction. When she’d first joined their camp, he hadn’t thought about her more than once a day, yet now it’s nearly impossible not to notice her. 

Most notably, unlike Gale and Wyll, Tav had kept up surprisingly well in the pitch-black darkness for a human, so much so that it had piqued his interest. He’s kept quiet about it, not really caring what she’s keeping secret from the group (besides, don’t they all have secrets?) but makes a note of it all the same. 

But even as his companions had struggled (both physically and morally –– he could care less about the annoying, whiny gnomes), it’s been. . . good. He still balks at the prospect of facing Cazador, but it almost feels like he now has a small chance of beating him rather than a nonexistent one.

Then once they hit the Shadowlands, it’s like a switch flips. 

Astarion scrambles up in bed with a scream lodged in his throat, lungs heaving to suck in air they don’t need. He wipes a cold, clammy hand over his face as his chest stutters, a vise gripping tightly around his heart. He needs –– he needs. . .

He needs air. He needs to get up and get out of this damn tent, where the memories are closing in on him. He needs not to think about his dream about Cazador or Godey or the damned kennel, or any of his victims' faces as they’d passed by him in quick succession, one after another –– 

Astarion scrambles upward, pushing his blankets away without his usual grace, and lunges out of his tent like some sort of animal. 

He doesn’t mind the dark but the Shadowlands at night are another thing entirely. He’s drawn like a moth to a flame when he sees Tav sitting in front of a small fire, her shoulders hunched and back to him. It would be so easy to sneak up behind her and sink his teeth into her neck. . .

His eyes darken and he imagines the hot rush of blood flowing down his throat. His incisors bite into his bottom lip. It’s a want more than a need –– he’d just fed from her yesterday. But. . .

Maybe it’s for the best that Tav turns before he can do anything. Even though he keeps his tread quiet, she tenses when he approaches her, hand moving to the dagger holstered at her side as she twists to face him properly. 

He clicks his tongue at her reaction. All of a sudden, with her eyes on him, he feels raw and all too visible. He’d come out here to escape his nightmare, had approached her on purpose. . .yet now he wants to skitter away like some sort of scared animal. 

Pushing those urges aside, it’s easy to fall back onto the charm and oozing seduction he wears like armor.  “None of that now, darling. Save it for all those shadow monsters, hmm?” 

She relaxes, though only slightly. Even though there’s no immediate danger, her body remains oddly stiff, muscles rippling underneath her skin. Thankfully, however, her hand moves away from her blade and rests against her bent knee, dangling down toward the ground. Predictably, she doesn’t say a word –– though she doesn’t protest his company, either, so he takes that as permission to sit beside her. 

The small fire in front of them does little to warm the chill that seems to have permeated every corner of his body. In need of a distraction, he opens his mouth to fill the silence. “You know, I could have sworn you were on watch earlier. But here you still are.” 

Tav just barely glances his way, shrugging in response. A usual – albeit unsatisfying – answer.  But something feels off beyond that. Her body, more rigid than usual, curls away from him as she stares with glazed eyes into the fire, almost as if in a trance. 

Maybe she’s been woken up by a nightmare, same as him. But, a part of him wonders absently, does he really care? So long as she’s willing to keep giving him blood and remain by his side should a conflict arise. . .what else does he need from her?

They sit in silence for a few more minutes. To some, it may be the comforting sort, but not for him; instead, the air between them feels charged, almost frenzied. There’s a sort of buzzing beneath his skin that threatens to tear through his flesh and emerge into the world. He needs ––  something more than this.  

“It is odd, though, don’t you think?” he says suddenly. “With how often I see you pacing around, it’d seem that you didn’t need sleep! But. . .” he leans in conspiratorially, relishing in the way Tav shifts away from him, a frown pulling at her lips ( finally reacting! ). “Those dark circles under your eyes say otherwise, darling. Really, you look quite horrid. I’ve seen corpses with more life than you!” 

Her mouth opens, teeth flashing and ready to rip into him –– yes! he thinks with a vicious sort of glee, eager for a bit of verbal sparring –– but after a faltering moment, she closes it and simply scowls. Silently. 

“What,” Astarion sneers, upper lip curling back. His words fall like the lashes of a whip. “Nothing to say? Can’t say I’m surprised.” 

Tav’s lips part, eyebrows pulling together in frustration as she inhales –– but says nothing. Instead, an odd, sort of guttural noise escapes her throat; both of them flinch back at the sound of it, Tav looking as surprised (and frustrated) as he feels. 

But when that fades, he’s left feeling just as dissatisfied as he’d been when he’d come out here. The image of Cazador still lingers in the corners of his mind; to his immense irritation, she’s done nothing to distract him from the ghosts of his past.

“I don’t know why I even bothered.” He stubbornly pushes the voice in the back of his mind down that tells him exactly why as he gets up, face twisted in disgust as he prepares to spend the rest of the night in haunted silence alone in his tent. 

Quick as a viper, she reaches out and grabs his arm. He pulls away as if burned, spinning on his heel to face her. His words come out in a hiss. “What now?”   

He watches her hesitate before her hands make a series of complicated gestures in response. Astarion blinks once, frowning. After a beat, she does the same series of signs again, looking increasingly frustrated (and is that a hint of desperation he sees in her eyes?) when he doesn’t understand whatever the hell she’s doing. 

He scowls, a ball of irritation forming in his chest. He’d been a fool to think that anyone would be willing to provide a distraction, let alone care that he currently wants to rip his skin off his bones and –– is Tav fucking drawing with a stick in the mud? 

Dumbfounded, he blinks in disbelief as he watches Tav carefully make a series of lines in the dirt in front of her. When she’s finished, she jabs at her work with the stick insistently, a clear command for him to look at it. 

At first glance, he’s left even more confused than before. It’s only when he takes a few steps toward her and looks it at from Tav’s direction that he realizes it’s a single word inscribed in the dirt at her feet: “Can’t.” 

“Can’t?” he scoffs, brows pulling together as he struggles to parse out her meaning. “What do you mean, can’t?”  

When he glances over at her again and sees the hand that slowly rises to her throat –– he finally understands. 

“You can’t speak right now?” he asks softly, a bit more hesitantly. Revulsion begins to crawl up his throat once more, though not for the same reason as before. 

A slow nod, as if she doesn’t quite understand it either. 

“But –– you can speak sometimes.” 

Another nod. 

Hands propped up against his hips, he studies her for a few more seconds in the waning firelight. Then, he slowly takes a seat next to her. She shifts uneasily but doesn’t move away or slide one of her daggers into his gut, which he takes as a win. 

(It’s not like he can have his only reliable source of food revoke the gift that she’s given to him.)

“Well,” he clears his throat, feeling out of his depth. “That would explain. . .” he gestures toward her. “. . . this. ” 

Tav huffs out a breath, shaking her head. 

And maybe he’s pushing it too far but he can’t help but prod further. It’s likely not the best time for it, not when he can’t understand her signing, but he’s surprised by how much he wants to know the answer.  “ –– Can I ask why?” 

For the next minute or two, she’s silent, considering his question. Instead of looking at him, she focuses her attention off into the distance, beyond the boundaries of their camp. The Shadowlands are quiet, for now, but it’s a temporary reprieve. He almost wishes that something would jump out of the bushes and attack, if only to interrupt the silence between them. 

Astarion’s just beginning to think that he won’t get an answer of any kind when his tadpole squirms unpleasantly in his brain. It takes him a second to realize that it’s Tav’s tadpole on the edges of his mind, asking for entry. 

What the hell, he thinks, opening his mind to the gentle nudge –– and then immediately regrets it. 

All at once, he’s struck by half a dozen memories at the same time, all clambering for his attention simultaneously. The small snippets he sees –– hooded figures walking silently down a hall, a whip striking lashes against someone’s back, someone’s tongue being pulled out with a pair of tongs –– are disjointed and confusing, made all the worse by the sheer terror that undercuts them. 

It takes a few seconds for him to regain his bearings and examine the scenes –– the memories, Tav’s memories –– with any sort of analytical eye. He finds himself –– finds Tav –– in a dark, dimly-lit castle or church. She wears heavy robes with a hood and so do the people around her. The flashes he gets are perhaps visions from her day-to-day life, yet she never utters a single word. Her hands act as her mouth instead; they’re moving almost constantly –– underneath tables, in the dark of night, in hidden nooks –– all away from the watchful eye of a few prominent figures that seem to repeat across all the echoes. 

But just as Astarion is beginning to figure it out, Tav breaks the connection. Both of them reel backward, lungs heaving. Tav’s eyes are wide and uncharacteristically fearful, her lips moving silently. In her lap, her fingers twitch. 

“That was. . .” he trails off, shaking his head. A hand absently moves to rub at his sternum, as if in an attempt to unravel the knot in his chest. 

By now, it’s become clear that everyone in their little traveling party has some sort of trauma. He’d never excluded Tav from that grouping, assuming she has her own fucked-up myriad of problems, though it slowly dawns on him that perhaps their pasts might be a little too similar for comfort. 

It can’t have been as bad as Cazador, his inner voice sneers, but –– he’d felt her fear, all the same. Felt her pain. 

And more than any sympathy he feels for her, he needs her. Not only as a partner, should things go bad, but also to provide him blood in a place where feeding off of their enemies might be more trouble than it’s worth. 

With that in mind, he shifts in his seat, then says, “I think I understand. Why you can’t speak right now.” And he does –– at least, sort of. After all, he’d come out here looking for company in the wake of a nightmare; if he were a betting man, he’d guess that she had one, too –– one that transported her back to that place where speaking led to physical punishment. 

His next words are tacked on as an afterthought but are no less meaningful: “ –– But I didn’t, before.” 

It’s not an apology –– even if he’d wanted to apologize to her for his callousness, the words are stuck in his throat. But it’s as close to one as he’s gotten in years and that means . . . something. 

(He tells himself it’s not a big deal, that he’s doing it for survival, and then doesn’t think about it again until later.)

In response, Tav just shakes her head slightly. When she meets his eyes, the corner of her mouth quirks upward. Nothing needs to be said out loud for him to understand exactly what she’s saying: It’s fine.

“You impossible, wretch of a woman,” he mutters, throwing up his hands. He’s suddenly irritated with how quickly she’s seemingly forgiven him. “You’re supposed to ––  I don’t know! ” His eyes dart down to her belt, the shine of her blade glinting in the firelight. 

He’d fucked up and yelled at her –– now it’s her turn to retaliate. But she’s not doing that. She’s not doing bloody anything, just sitting there, looking at him like all’s been said and done –– but it hasn’t. He’s not––he’s not used to. . .

Astarion sags, his mind weighed down by a wave of exhaustion. This conundrum, combined with his earlier disorientation from the nightmare, leaves him unable to properly voice his thoughts without it being incomprehensible. 

At his side, Tav shifts, moving slightly closer to him. There’s still a good few inches between them but the solidness of her presence is enough to ground him. She doesn’t say anything –– either with her voice or her hands –– but the silence isn’t as tense as it had been when he’d first emerged from his tent. 

She doesn’t shout at him. She doesn’t pull out her blade and cut him to ribbons for the slight. Instead. . .they just sit. Together. 

Astarion doesn’t know what she’s thinking –– doesn’t have the energy to try and guess her intentions. Had she somehow perceived what he’d been trying to say? Could she feel the war inside his mind, the constant tugging of abuse that threatens to tear him to pieces? Nobody knows about Cazador; he hasn’t said a word. But for the first time in a long time, he finally feels like maybe, just maybe, someone might understand. 

He’s not at peace, his brain still reeling and muscles jumping at every sound. . .but perhaps there’s more to Tav than the blood she can give him. And by the way her breathing begins to return to normal, as her muscles relax and her eyes lose some of that distant shine over time, it might just be that she benefits from his presence, too. 

That’s a troubling thought. 

“Wizard.” 

“I have a name, you know,” Gale replies dryly, looking up from the dusty old tome he’d been reading. “What is it? Don’t tell me you need money again.”  

From his pocket, Astarion produces a glittering ring with a flourish. Though he’s had little practical training, he can feel the magic of it thrumming in the air between them. At the sight of it, Gale’s eyes widen eagerly. 

“I found this a few days ago, carelessly thrown away,” he begins, falling into the cadence of his usual dramatics. “And I thought to myself, ‘well, this seems like just the type of thing that Gale would eat right up!’” 

The wizard sighs. “I’ve told you all a dozen times that I don’t actually eat the artifact ,” he replies wearily. “It’s a rather complicated process that doesn’t involve. . .” 

Astarion tunes him out for a few seconds. 

“. . .And besides, now that Mystra’s stabilized the orb, I no longer have a need for such things.” He pauses, then remembers his manners, and adds, “Though I suppose it was thoughtful of you to think of me. Thank you, Astarion.” 

He didn’t do it for thanks. Scowling, he tosses the magical ring in Gale’s direction anyway, forcing the other man to catch it lest it hit him in the eye. Once it’s in Gale’s possession, Astarion claps his hands together brightly. “Excellent! A ring for a favor. I’ll be cashing that in now.” 

“You could have just asked––” 

“Now, I’m sure you learned lots of things in wizard school––” he ignores the exclamation of protest at his wording and continues on, “but what I particularly need your, ah, expertise in is languages. Specifically those spoken with hands.” 

Intrigued at the possibility of sharing his knowledge with someone who actually wants to hear it, Gale’s eyes light up as he hums in thought. “Well, there are quite a few. Common sign language, which, as the name suggests, is the most common. There’s quite a bit of overlap with that and thieves’ cant, which, admittedly, I know little about. Then the drow have their own variation that looks quite like spellcasting. I actually studied with someone who spoke it and stars, that was difficult to parse––” 

He has to stop this before Gale goes completely off the rails. Astarion cuts in smoothly, “The first one. Common.” 

“I only know the basics,” Gale emphasizes (to which Astarion shrugs because it’s better than nothing). He thinks Gale’s going to continue but the other man pauses, brows narrowing in suspicion. “. . .What’s this about?” 

Astarion meets his gaze, eyes flashing dangerously. He could turn to threats but that would be a waste of a perfectly good Gale (and the only person in camp who might be able to help him) if he had to follow through on them. “No questions and you can have the next magical item I find.” 

“Is this about Ta––” 

“No questions,” he snaps, losing his temper and cutting the other man off before he can finish that sentence. Now he turns to threats. “The next words out of your mouth better be ‘ oh, yes, Astarion, I can’t wait to help you with this’ or I’ll start cutting off your fingers one by one . ” 

Gale raises an unimpressed brow. “Give me the next two artifacts you find.” 

“. . .Fine, you absolute cretin. But we start now. ” 

Gale claps his hands, rubbing them together in excitement at the prospect of having a willing student. With one arm, he holds open the flap of his tent, motioning for Astarion to go first. “After you.” 

Slowly beginning to regret this decision, Astarion lets out a long-suffering sigh and acquiesces.

[mentallyshattered]

This is part 14 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

"A nightmare? Both of them? I've heard of familiars having similar dreams, given how common it is, but it's generally accepted that having a familiar is a nightmare deterrent." Vil pauses, his face pensive. "Generally, though, having a familiar means you won't have any nightmare you can't be woken from. And you're sure it was a bad dream?"

"Positive. He kept begging some unknown figure for help; it was something like 'please, make this stop' over and over again, quietly."

"Hmm. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I'll see what I can do."

"You know, Roi de Poison, I have seen Monseur Smoke go and punch trees quite often, until he bleeds. Every time, his attacks last one half-hour, if uninterrupted."

"That does sound like it could be related." Vil turns his head towards me and Grim rather suddenly, as though he forgot we were there. "Yuu, Grim, go and eat. You need the energy, and you've already done enough here. Make sure to drink some water; you two haven't been drinking enough."

Grim and I follow Vil's instruction and leave. Breakfast is avocado toast, which I'm pretty sure is our housewarden's way of making sure everybody eats a decent amout of something green instead of living on fish like the whole dorm seems to try.

While the ice water is nice, I can't bring myself to enjoy it. What of my friends? What of Ace and Deuce, with their tyrant housewarden? What of Korrak and Mandible, with their unknown nightmares?

"H-Hey, Yuu."

"Hi, Korrak! What's up?" Looking into his smokey grey eyes, I can understand why Rook calls him 'Monseur Smoke.'

"Not much, but I'm p-p-pretty sure we have t-t-t-t-to join a club. What club are you joining?"

"Myeh? We have to join a club?"

"Yeah, by the end of the week," Mandible adds, "have you seen the options?"

"Uhh, nope." Grim and I speak in unison this time.

"Well, w-w-we can all g-go and look at the opt-t-t-tions lat-t-t- Mandible, you know what I was g-g-going t-t-t-"

"Sure do. Anyway, do you two wanna go to the courtyard later today and look at the options?"

"Sure! Sounds fun."

Korrak looks relived. "Thanks, bud. You've always b-b-been there f-for me." Korrak turns to Grim and I. "Th-th-the speech issue is w-w-w-worse when I haven't eat-t-t-en."

Grim and I nod. "Isn't everything?"

"Fair point." Mandible seems to share Grim's sentiment. I hand Korrak a piece of toast, and he starts adding butter and avocado almost immediately.

When Grim and I get to class, we discover a well-rested Ace with no collar on.

"Yeah, housewarden Riddle must've had a change of heart or something. He's stopped enforcing most of the rules, and now Ace's punishment for stealing is helping Trey bake the tarts for the party. We still can't play croquet after 5:00pm, though."

I smile. Grim and I were right. Riddle did just need a hug and some time to himself.

The rest of class goes by without incident. It would be boring if I weren't learning the history of an entirely new world, but, hey, I'm in luck!

Alchemy sees me successfully using magic to catch a glass jar that got knocked off of a shelf. It "certainly would've shattered" on the stone floor if not for my "catlike reflexes-" or so Crewel says, anyway.

To be honest, I didn't even realize I knew a spell that could save that jar. I just panicked and attempted one I've read about. Good for me!

P.E. sucks, as usual. Ace stays conscious, though! Not without a bad sunburn that got him sent to the nurse anyway, but baby steps.

Lunch is tomato soup, which is the first time the main dish of a Pomefiore meal does not and cannot include fish. Even this morning, there were pieces of salmon for the avocado toast.

"So, Epel, w-what club are you in?"

"Spelldrive. Cain't wait fer practice t' start up, lemme tell ya! Hopefully I'll git bigger an' stop lookin' so-"

"Epel, Vil's in the room." Epel, despite having just been interrupted by four people, one of whom is a cat and another of whom is an opossum, does not delay his speaking. That's gotten pretty normal, after all.

"Whoop, sorry. Thanks, y'all. 'Nyway, I'd jus' like t' be a little less girly, y'know?"

"I g-get that. I got mist-t-t-aken for a girl all the t-t-t-"

"Take another bite of your soup, Korrak."

"Thanks, Mandible." He obeys. "Anyway, people u-used t-t-to think I was a girl all the t-t-time. They'd p-pick on me 'cause of that- you should've seen th-the looks on their faces when I beat the shit out of them."

Korrak laughs. I recall what I heard Rook say about Korrak punching trees until he bleeds, and spilling no blood for half an hour every time. Guess that's just what he's like.

Korrak doesn't strike me as a violent person so much as the retalliative sort. Why would he be violent? He doesn't start fights, he doesn't bully people, and he doesn't tolerate bullshit.

"It was always real f-funny, watching them s-s-suff-"

"Korrak." Our housewarden now stands tall behind the Korrak's confident figure.

"Uh, when I beat the bully out o-of them."

"Perfect." With that, Vil walks off. I wonder, why did it take him so long to react? Then again, this room is full of teens. Epel can't be the only potty mouth.

Korrak watches Vil go and shrugs. "That's life, I s-suppose." His stutter has noticeably improved since eating more of his soup, but is still present.

"Do you fight often, Korrak?"

"Only when I g-gotta. Kids back a-at my elementary school called me th-the gas st-t-t-ation, cuz I w-was nice t-t-to have around unt-il there were s-sparks."

Yeah, that makes sense. It's a little hard to imagine people pissing him off at all, but especially recalling the tree-punching thing. After all, Korrak stands tall and confident, with square shoulders and a smirk that suggests anyone who goes looking for trouble with him will find more of it than they bargained for. There's a spark in his eyes, like the sun peaking out from smoke, that makes it obvious: you fuck with Korrak, you've fucked up.

He's not shy, that's my point. He is kinda cute though, what with the hair- ashy purple and super fluffy. Combine that with his beautiful eyes and some teenage jealousy, and you've probably got at least one kid challenging him to make sure he stays away from their lover.

"Myah, we have class!"

Everybody's eyes widen. Evidently, the whole room forgot we aren't eating dinner.

Then, from various voices accross the room: "run!"

Luckily, Grim and I make it to class on time. Biology class is about morays today- specifically, the differences between cold sea morays and warm sea morays.

According to Trein, there's a trench that separates the sea. Morays who lay eggs on the south side lay two connected egg sacks. One side only has babies with magical left eyes, and the other only has babies with magical right eyes. The babies in each side fight until only one is left, and the survivors are twins.

Warm sea morays have nothing of the sort. Eggs can't be carried over the trench because the temperature change kills them, and keeping them on the side they weren't laid on requires keeping them at the temperature of the other side.

Cold sea morays can lay warm sea eggs, and vice versa. It's all location, and it's all very facinating. But, alas, class cannot go on forever.

MacGyvering shows us using drills as motors for fans, boats, and a variety of other things. Not really, though- we're making blueprints. Reasonable enough, if you ask me.

Finally, class is over. I hold Grim and carry him to the courtyard so he can sleep on the way. Korrak and Mandible are already waiting.

They wave. I wave back. Korrak motions to me to stand over by him, and I follow his lead. Beside him is a big list of all the clubs, pinned to the wall.

"I was thinking of joining the track and field club, but I'm not really sure. What do you think?"

"Well... what kind of stuff do you like?"

"The science club sounds fascinating. I've always liked all of it, anyway, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, I want to be more physical."

"You don't have to be in a club to use the gymnasium, Korrak."

"Yeah, great point. Science Club it is!" With that, he starts filling out an application that apparently just needed a few more fields to be filled in.

"Myeh?.. what time is... oh, I took a nap." Grim yawns, putting his, frankly, adorable little teeth on display. "What club are we joining?"

"I don't know yet. That's why we're here, Grim."

Grim hops onto the ground, does the iconic kitty stretch, and hops onto the bench. Before I can wonder why, he jumps onto Korrak's shoulder- the one that doesn't have Mandible on it- and onto my shoulder from there.

"You can just ask me to pick you up, Grim."

"Where's the fun in that?"

I sigh and roll my eyes. What clubs are there? Board Games, Mountain Lovers, Gargoyle Studies... out of those, Board Games seem like the best option.

"Where are the applications?" Korrak hands me one.

"Hey, you didn't even tell me what club you picked! We're both going, so we both need to approve!"

"I picked the board games club, Grim."

"Ooh. Sounds fun, I'm in!"

I grin. "We sure are!"

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 3x26 The Adversary thoughts (I'm re-watching, so beware spoilers for future episodes!)

(06/06/2023)

I remember being so damn confused the first time I watched this by the Commander's log, thinking "I'm sure I'd have been spoiled for the fact Sisko left DS9 in Season 3???" Even after the awards ceremony I had to rewind and rewatch to catch up that I'd just assumed that was what he meant XD

"Now that you have another pip on your collar, does that mean I can't disagree with you anymore?" "No. It just means I'm never wrong." CREW AS FRIEEENDS

"Curzon would've been proud of you, but not as proud as I am." I LOVE THISS?

Isn't Jake like 16? 17? Surely he's old enough to be allowed some champagne!

This is the changeling episode no?

Tzenkethi is the one in lots of fanfic? I remember thinking this episode would finally explain why I kept seeing it in fanfic summaries but nope. (Atm I've ended up assuming it's a Stitch in Time thing? That I shall, at some point, read!)

Oh no - now he's a Captain people are gonna start saying "Captain! and my brain's gonna reply "Polites!" every time because Epic: The Musical is a total earworm

"My son, the writer, thinks I should say something profound on his occasion." He's so fond of Jake, even in his private moments

I live Jadzia so much, she's unstoppable

"Kira, O'Brien, Bashir, they're all dying of curiosity and, well, I have to tell them something." XD the best of reasons to have a deep conversation with your friend, your other friends need gossip!

"Fine. You tell them when she gets back, I'm going to taking her to the holosuite and we're going to watch the seventh game of the nineteen sixty four World Series." I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT ACTUALLY WORKED! Man, she knows Sisko better than I do!

"Why didn't you answer me?" "I had this spanner in my mouth." XD

Wait is this the real Julian or the changeling? Idk to me it looked like he was proud to remember that the Julian he was impersonating had extension courses. But also that's a very Julian thing to say... Why are these changelings so goood, I want to be able to spot at least some slight inconsistencies!

"Not bad for an extension course." Well he's either enhanced or a changeling so 🤷‍♀️

Eddington sucking up to the captain >:(

Oh, Miles' face when he realises he saw Julian where he shouldn't be <3 And that makes Julian sus. And he has to report it.

"No one's accusing anyone of anything. But I want to talk to Julian." The seriousness of this underlined by the fact he usually says Dr Bashir, I think. > Would be interested to know what frequency Sisko actually does call people by name. Hmm. Maybe a project to do. (Edit: yes I started this project and this was the spark)

Kira saying "Might as well do me next." to Dax 👀

"If O'Brien can't regain control before we cross the border I'll have no choice but to destroy the Defiant." Well that's breaking out the old, old TOS tactic! I'm here for it

*SPARKS* "Would someone please get me out of here?!!!" Love that dramatic reveal!

The glistening in Kira's eyes and the set of her jaw as she sets the countdown.

"Auto-destruct in seven minutes." "Just tell me how long it will take." "Well, I guess it'll have to be less than seven minutes, won't it." Gotta love some O'Brien deadpan

The tension. I love it

"You're too late. We are everywhere." What a season ending, incredible.

[cyarsk5230]

heavyhitterheaux 

2d ago

heavyhitterheaux

4d ago

Anonymous asked:

how about readers friends judging her for liking baby jack and wanting to date the “wannabe rapper”

heavyhitterheaux answered:

"Y/N, out of all the boys in this school you like Jackman?" Victoria asked while looking over at you. She didn't exactly turn up her nose about it, but you could tell that she didn't approve 100%.

You were currently staring off into space thinking about how the two of you were going to study later and then go get ice cream. It was Friday and the two of you would usually stay up talking all night in your backyard as you taught him all about space. You didn't know if he was into it like you were, but he always took his time to listen to you and make it known that your interests were important to him.

"Yes. What about it?" You asked as her, Blanca, and Jess shared a look.

"But why do you like him? I just…" Jess started to say, but you cut her off.

"I just love being around him. He was the first person I met when I came here and now he's truly one of my best friends. The blue eyes and curly hair are a plus. What's the big deal?"

"Not you crushing on the wannabe rapper." Blanca said and all you did was roll your eyes.

"He's really good. I actually think he'll get signed one day."

"A white boy from Kentucky? You can't be serious."

"People already believe that people in Kentucky can't read so what makes you think that they are going to take a rapper and a WHITE boy at that seriously in the industry?"

"We are only fifteen and he's only going to get better. And I help him write songs too. I know he’s going to catch the eye of someone in the industry and get signed."

"Y/N, as amazing as that sounds, I just don't think so."

"You three are supposed to be my friends and be encouraging and positive towards me."

"We are your friends! We might not know him as well as you do but…"

"Exactly. You don't know him as well as I do. I wish you three would take some time to get to know him and be able to see what I see. I really do like him and I like him a lot. He's the person that I spend most of my time with."

"We're just trying to get you to be realistic. And the friends he hangs around? They're a little questionable too."

"They treat me like I'm one of them."

"Exactly. So since Jack only probably sees you as one of the boys, do you think he likes you like you like him?"

"I think so. At least Urban told me he does and he tells him everything."

"We just… don't want you to get hurt."

"We want to look out for you."

"I'll be just fine." You answered while looking away from them so they wouldn't see you upset.

Just then Jack came up behind you and covered your eyes and all you did was laugh.

"Guess who?"

"Hmm, my husband Justin Bieber?" You answered and all you heard was Jack suck his teeth.

"Seriously?!"

"Are you going to sing my favorite song for me?"

"Now what makes you think I know any of his songs? Even though your favorite is One Less Lonely Girl… or so I've heard." Jack asked as he finally uncovered your eyes to sit next to you.

"Ladies." He said while greeting Jess, Blanca, and Victoria who told him hello in response.

"Because when I was sick, you kept me company as I kept playing it over and over again. When you get signed you better meet him and put in a good word for me so we can get married."

"Not if I marry you first." Jack quietly said and the only person who caught what he said was Jessica who got a small smile on her face.

"I didn't hear you, what did you say?" You asked him and all he did was smile and shake his head.

"Oh, nothing. Now, where did you want to go to get ice cream later?"

[lumineescente]

Hi amelie <33

💫, 🎀, 💞, 💥, and 🧿 for the ask game <33333

hiii!!!! thank you for your ask!! <3

💫my favorite is when people tell me that they felt things, any kind of feelings really, (well as long as they are okay you know like they agreed to feel even uncomfortable feelings when reading angst). It makes me think oh i did well because for me when I go to read / look / see a art piece i want to feel things, if it just does nothing in me then it means it was not for me! so i'm glad to read that i can give feelings to others

🎀aaah this one is a nice one! hmm well it is a bit hard ahaha i think.. it's good that i try more to explore various stuff and that i'm less and less afraid of experimenting stuff, that i feel like i let myself be more self indulgent even if i'm hard on myself still. oh and!! i write friendships very well imo, i think i do that well, and my dialogues are good

💞i answered that one in my other post here!!

💥i chose (i have fics with less but they are REALLY old so) this fics that has like 24 kudos, it is a pentagon fic, the star he holds actually i really enjoyed writing this fic, this is also an exemple of me going on something i didn't feel like doing a few years ago (homophobia and coming to terms with homosexuality + non historically accurate setting (70s??)) and i jumped into it while listening to a song, i conveyed the vibe i wanted, talked about what i wanted and with the feedbacks i got, it worked very well. I'm proud of this one

🧿this is the hardest part for me because i feel very self conscious and i tend to compare myself a lot. It happens to me a lot tbh to not be satisfied with the hits or kudos and realize oh god some people are getting so much and i don't what am i doing wrong. It stopped me from writing for a year almost entirely (also i was living with a person that kept bringing back the amount of kudos and comments they had so i felt terrible and anxious all the time) and i was having serious panic attack about it! which sucks!! so now, i'm trying to, 1) look less at stats and 2) to feel extremely grateful with what i get it might be one comment or three or four but the fics that didn't work "well" gave me the most beautiful comments i've ever received, sincerely, so i make myself remember that. Plus if thirty people came to me to tell me directly in front of my face "i love what you do" i'd be overwhelmed with joy irl, so i put it that way. And I learn to be more grateful every day every time i post a new fic, if it pleases just one person, then so be it, this person is precious!

hehe hope i didn't ramble for too long <3 thank you again