#Morning Mist & Night Traffic

[vilandel]

Morning Mist & Night Traffic

Prologue

A/N And I did it, my Black Clover Modern AU finally started! I'm so excited about it. The prologue sadly still goes well with angstpril... But I promise you, there will still be fluff and a happy ending ♣️ 💘

Ao3 link

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Between all the yells and curse words, Nozel thought he heard things getting broken, probably by being thrown against a wall. Maybe it was one of the Ming vases. Or one of his father’s modern sculptures that looked like nothing.

Nozel just leaned more against the wall, hoping to melt with it. This was worse than any of the arguments his parents had before. This one was more direct, it was louder and the subtility was gone, as well as the ability of holding back.

He couldn’t tell if this was a good thing, though. Yes, his mother needed to let all those years of deception out, she deserved better than what… father did during the whole time of their marriage.

Father… How much Nozel hated that word. Yes, other children had certainly amazing fathers. But none of those were like his. This was the only father Nozel knew and because of that, he couldn’t consider father a word to love.

Other children maybe would mostly hate if their parents would get a divorce, even when there was no other choice. But Nozel hoped it. It would be the best for mother and for his siblings. To be away from that man.

Hopefully mother would understand that after today.

Hopefully… They couldn’t be the happy family anymore she wished for with him. All of their happy memories were from when he was away.

A little whine came to his ears. Nozel immediately looked down, to the bundle in his arms. The yells had woken up his little sister Noelle, who was just one year old and so, unable to understand what was going on. Nozel didn’t know if she was lucky or unlucky that she couldn’t get what was happening.

He also decided to only blame the man that was sadly their father for waking his baby sister up. Never would Nozel blame his mother for that. She didn’t mean it and if Acier would learn, she would feel so terribly guilty.

“Shh, Noelle, it’s alright, I’m here…”

It was just a whisper, but Noelle heard it somehow. There were still tears shining in her big magenta pink eyes, but she calmed down. His baby sister looked at him, certainly scared because of the yells. Nozel cradled her more and started to rock her softly. She was only one, she was still a baby. He had to protect her from the shards that were currently breaking their family apart.

If their father would stay, it will certainly shatter…

Were his other siblings fine? Nozel wasn’t that worried for Solid right now, he was currently at the Vermillions, with aunt Océane, to play with their cousin Kirsch. He would start to realize that something is wrong with their family, he was just four but old enough to start noticing things going wrong… Nozel always tried to make him understand a bit that they couldn’t expect anything from their father, that only mother truly cares about them. But he probably hasn’t done it well, as Solid was still confused and stubborn.

And to be honest, Nozel didn’t want Solid to learn the whole truth with only four. Even with fourteen, it was too early to face that…

But Nebra was here, in the house somewhere. Hopefully in the garden, where she wouldn’t hear any of the yells.

Hopefully.

Nebra was nine, still too young, but old enough to actually realize that something was wrong with their family. And Nebra wasn’t stupid. Nozel did notice that she always had a certain look in her eyes when there was tension between their parents. Nozel prayed the Heavens that she wouldn’t become an adult too early despite this horrid realization. He already felt like a bit too adult sometimes, but someone had to support mother and give her the comfort every day. Her sister, aunt Océane, couldn’t come every day and the workers at the family business weren’t close enough to them and…

Now, Nozel almost felt like he would cry soon. Was there really no one but him to support mother? An adult, a friend? Heck, despite despising adultery thanks to his father, Nozel would exceptionally even accept a secret lover, just because his mother deserved to be truly loved and appreciated. Something his father never did.

Nozel hold Noelle softly closer to him. It was already a difficult situation. Hopefully it wouldn’t end up as a tragedy.

“Oh, there you are.”

Nozel looked up and saw Nebra entering the nursery. She was wearing the pink dress with the blue flowers that mother got her on their only-girls shopping trip last week and she had her favorite spider plushie in her arms. With the pink ribbon in her silver hair, she looked like a happy little girl with no worries at all.

But the frown and the serious look in her magenta eyes destroyed that happy image immediately. It broke Nozels heart.

“Nebra… I thought you were in the garden.”

“I was, but I could hear the yells even there. I didn’t know that mother knew such cursing words.”

How wonderful. Even their garden wasn’t wide enough to not hear the yells anymore. What if the whole city of Clover could hear them? What if people would hear and decide that mother was in the wrong, what if they would rather support him?

Nozel felt so scared right now. But he couldn’t let Noelle and Nebra show anything about it. He was their older brother, he was fourteen already and he sadly knew better than them what was going on. It was his job to protect his siblings. In this case, his sisters, since his brother was thankfully not here.

“Is she not crying with all the noise?” Nebra asked while sitting next to him and pointing at Noelle, who had tears, but didn’t cry. Yet.

“I do my best to calm her.”

“Noelle is always the calmest with you,” Nebra said, with a hint of envy that almost made Nozel smile. Almost. “With me, she either cries or is more interest by her stupid dragon plushie. But at least, I try to bond with her. Solid either calls her ugly because she’s a baby, broken when she cries or he asks that we should return her and find the receipt, to return her. Dang it, our sister is not a toy to return!”

“Forgive him, he is only four and babies are weird in his eyes. You did the same when Solid was a baby, remember?”

“It’s not the same, I’m a girl and he’s a boy,” Nebra said while flicking her hand. She sounded very certain of her statement.

“Did you hear anything about… what mother and father are yelling to each other?” Nozel asked.

“I didn’t try to listen, it makes ears bleeding.”

Nozel couldn’t agree more. He also didn’t try to listen, but mostly because he knew already what they were yelling about. It was always the same lately, only that it was more direct and loud this time.

“I did hear mother say something about divorce, though.”

Oh, really? That was new. But Nozel didn’t try to be happy about it right now. Was his mother suggesting the divorce or was she against it? At this point, Nozel wouldn’t be surprised by either possibility.

“Nozel, what is a divorce?” Nebra asked, which made him flinch. He didn’t know if he should explain it to her, she was only nine years old. But at the same time, she would learn it soon enough. Better from him than from someone else who wasn’t close to the Silvas or who might support their father.

“It means that people who are married can’t live together anymore, due to reasons, and so they got separated.”

Nebra nodded, thinking. Nozel wonders sometimes if he should be worried that she was a bit too mature for her age lately.

“I don’t want mother and father to get separated.”

“Maybe it will be for the best for all of us. And for mother even more.”

“Can we be a family when our parents are separated?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a family goes through that and some are apparently still feeling like families.”

“But ours? With all the screaming?”

No, not really. Nozel wondered if he should tell Nebra that all of them would be better up without their father, but-

There was a loud noise going suddenly through their villa, as if someone just shut the door. Then, their mother yelled something about waiting.

Oh no… Their father probably left for his penthouse and mother would run after him. This wasn’t good, not good at all. Nozel didn’t know why, but he had suddenly a terrible feeling. He had to do something!

“Nebra, I’m going after mother. Watch over Noelle for me. Maybe go in the kitchen and ask the cook for some cocoa to calm everyone.”

“What? But Nozel-“

“I’ll be right back, just don’t follow me.”

Nozel handled Nebra their little sister, but Noelle immediately started to cry as he let her go. It broke Nozels heart, but he couldn’t take her with him and Nebra was also too young. He patted both their heads shortly, trying to ignore Noelles cries and Nebras sudden fear in her eyes and left the nursery.

He run down the stairs, almost run into a maid and reached the door of their villa. Nozel didn’t even took the time to put some outdoor shoes on, he went out immediately. It was clear as crystal that he had no time to lose. Mother needed him.

He run, hoping to stop his mother to go after HIM. The marriage was broken, it was so clear after today’s fight. But Nozel knew his mother hoped for a real happy family still. He couldn’t blame her for that, but they could be a happy family without HIM.

Nozel was out of breath when he finally reached the road. Why was the villa of his family on a hill again? Who cared about that, he needed to catch his mother!

Acier was there, on the road. The green light just turned red.

Then, there was the car.

Then a panic.

His mother fell.

Then it was blurry. And Nozel screamed, but no one heard him. There was no sound coming out of his mouth…

[madarasgirl]

A Night for Hunting

On AO3

To me, Alucard is a yandere no matter how you cut it. He's sweeter after the relationship is more established. This short piece was inspired by EwNasty (BogDing)’s “Monster in the Basement” on AO3. The fanfic was such a hot masterpiece I couldn't help but fantasize more about Alu, even when I hadn’t started Hellsing yet and only read some headcanons. Just finished watching Hellsing Ultimate. Hopefully my characterization of Alucard, who is still new to me, is adequate.

You were only a regular woman trying to make ends meet. Never would you have dreamed you would catch a king's attention. Or unwillingly become part of his hunt.

(Alucard is an eldritch terror having a good time).

The story of a vampire's seduction of a woman, and a king turning from unwanted stalker to lover.

Tags/warnings: Alucard (Ultimate) x Fem!Reader, predator/prey, hunting, fear play, dacryphilia, slight mind reading and control, bondage (?), noncon but no smut. Alucard is an eldritch terror having a good time. He doesn’t really hurt her.

Words: 1891

It was happening again. How? Tonight you chose an alternate path, one with more life. But as you walked, the night streets that were lively not long ago seemed to quiet into nothingness. The remaining strangers who littered the area slowly scattered. It must be your imagination, but the shadows appeared to lengthen around you as well.

The screech of a colony of bats broke the peace, the sudden flurry of wings startling you as the small creatures fluttered across the starry sky from up high. Then all was quiet once more. You pulled your sweater closer to yourself and sped up, unnerved by the sudden eeriness of your path that was familiar and welcome by day. It wasn't the autumn chill that made your hairs stand on end. No, this cold was something else.

As you passed storefront after storefront, each of them now closed, you cursed your boss for coercing you into staying late for your shift again. Your eyes shot around anxiously, trying to find any other phenomena that were out of place. The chairs to several restaurant patios were neatly stacked on their tables. Several locked garbage containers were set out for collection tomorrow morning. Everything looked as it should. A gentle breeze rustled your sweater and carried the lingering smells of street foods. It prickled your skin and blew strands of your bangs across your eyes as you tucked them back. Maybe the strange atmosphere was only your mind playing tricks? You have been exhausted lately.

The streetlamps flickered. Branches snapped.

It was almost imperceptible and at first you didn’t see it, but as you walked briskly onwards, you noticed a light fog spreading lazily across the area. The hazy whiteness grew thicker and misted your vision, making distance hard to differentiate. Even the breeze stilled. The tranquil silence was deafening. You could feel the steady thuds of your blood rushing in your temples as your strides lengthened further to carry you home sooner.

Your unease carried your flight. You sped through the winding path home, making a left, then a right after the stop sign. J-walked to bypass the next set of traffic lights ahead. A laugh sounded from behind and you spun. A stalker? Leading a suspicious stranger home was too dangerous, but there were no public spaces available at this hour to take refuge. You wished you had your pepper spray! Your eyes focused on the fog. Visibility wasn’t nil. There was no one else but you.

Heart pounding in your chest, your quick walk became jogging. The laugh came again, but this time it echoed around you. Something grabbed your side and you screamed as you whirled with your hands slapping, only to be greeted by emptiness. Spooked, your instinct was to flee. You started running.

You weren't sure how far you got, but your breaths left you in heaving pants when you finally stopped. Uncertain of where you were because you missed your usual turns to get home, you glanced around for clues. Something large rubbed heavily against your backside, like it was nuzzling its entire body against you to mark you. But nothing was present this time either when you whizzed your head around. Then you saw it.

In the murky darkness, there was an off-tone blackness darker than its surroundings forming mere feet behind you. A huge inky shadow solidified and rose from the ground, stirring the white fog. You didn’t look closely enough to elucidate the details, but you'd seen enough. It looked like some sort of canine, a head rearing from a pool of shadow lined with red. Rows of teeth gleamed through a sinister smirk. You turned and bolted with a breathless shout.

Quiet, little one. A rich, amused voice whispered into your head.

A weight hit you and knocked you to the ground, ripping your delicate skin against the rugged pavement. Ignoring the pain, you yelped and scrambled to get up before dashing blindly away again. The laughter this time was more akin to a cackle, ravenous and touched by madness.

Yes, RUN! The gleeful voice sounded again.

The ground turned black. Eyes opened along your path, thousands of them, red irises tracking you as you ran desperately until your lungs burned. This, this was new. This never happened before!

“WHAT WAS THIS?!” You thought in panic.

Your wide eyes couldn’t avert themselves from the morbid sight as your legs carried you frantically, your lips fell open to scream, but you couldn’t. No voice came.

You were no longer aware of where you were as the surroundings blazed by in a blur. You could only run and run and run until your legs gave out and exhaustion took you, even if the shadows still followed. The eyes moved with you, mocking your futile attempts to escape.

Sprawled on the ground, your body was wracked with shaking as you heaved greedily to fill your aching chest with air. Your legs felt like lead. Warm blood trickled from your wounds which you weren’t cognizant of earlier.

The shadows surrounded you. It crawled up your body, those wretched unblinking eyes that spectated this chase finally catching up to you. The thousands of eyes curled up in mirth at your anguish. You stared back helplessly, beyond terror and screaming, and tried to scoot back, to push the shadows off, to do anything to get whatever it was away from you.

The darkness had mass. It settled on top of you, pushing your back to the cold ground, flowing over your form until you were completely immobile despite your hopeless struggles to free yourself. It rippled as if it enjoyed your fight.

“I am going to die,” you thought feebly. The weight of the shadows was overwhelming. You whined in pain piteously and immediately, the pressure diminished. The shadow shifted again, its shape transforming. Humans, such fragile and weak creatures. The voice tsk’ed?

Locking eyes with the now-humanoid figure above you, time froze. You found in the thing's eyes timelessness, an age-old elegance that only grew wiser with the passage of eras. This was an ancient and crafty creature, its eyes glowing with an unworldly orangey-red that was enchantingly beautiful, you recognized distantly. It was making sounds that could only be described as contented exhalations.

“It was you. All this time, it was you haunting me." You couldn’t look away from that face. It was much too gorgeous to be human, even if it took the skin of a man. 

It purred. "Yes it was me."

Your eyes widened, not expecting such sounds to come from this creature that caged you against the ground. The sensual voice was liquid sin to your ears when you heard it out loud at last, and the deep purrs rumbled heavily against your chest.

“You can't be real. THIS can't be real." You whispered, closing your eyes, childishly willing everything away, to be nothing more than a horrifying dream that couldn't harm you. Have you lost your mind at last? Gone senile with paranoid hallucinations? Surely you've been stressed, but you didn't think you were so far gone for your mind to create this scene. Perhaps you needed to be on medications.

The creature chuckled again, a terrible noise that reveled in your misery. Unknown to you, it heard your thoughts. "You truly don’t think this is real?"

Cool fingers brushed up your thighs and stroked your core, making you recoil from the unwanted touch. Your breasts and buttocks were fondled through your clothes. What?  You braved looking down and your heart stopped. The darkness that blanketed your body retreated, but your wrists and ankles were held down by hands. There were too many hands. Shadowy limbs covered in the same glowing crimson outline roved over your body, pinching and grabbing at whatever piece of you they could find.

A form covered in eyes rose from the muddled shadow over the ground. A hound, it was what chased you. It licked your face.

But he was still there, with all those horrific limbs that glowed with a dark light tethered to his body in impossible ways. The nightmare was reality.

"What are you?" The gritty pavement dug into your back. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes.

His bewitching gaze stared back, thoroughly enjoying your distress and powerlessness beneath him. “Your kind write many stories for me.”

"Incubus?" You sobbed, tears finally breaking free now that there was no longer anywhere to run.

He threw his head back and laughed in a psychotic manner. The mania was such a contradiction compared to his aristocratic appearance. Your eyes peeled back wide and you shuddered. "Do you still think you're dreaming, foolish child?" He hovered close to you, eyes shining with amusement while his mouth opened, revealing two rows of jagged teeth, but that wasn't what caught your attention. Your stare focused on two long, dagger-like fangs.

"NO. You can't be." You shook your head, body quaking as dread filled your very marrow. Tears slipped past your cheeks and the stench of your fear permeated the air. He nuzzled against your throat and scented you, delighting in your terror, a predator toying with his meal.

A wet muscle that was too long lapped at your tears as this creature sniffed at your throat and ran that abominable appendage up your neck. He was savoring each moment of your fear and getting off on it. You could feel a hard length digging into your abdomen as it rocked against you and the purring continued.

In a moment of sheer panic, your hands were free. You raked your nails against his face as your eyes met his, your fear made more potent as you realized you once again lost your voice. No screams fell from your lips, no matter how much you wanted to call for help. You yanked at his hair and pulled his ears, struggling desperately to get free. He smirked at you as your hands mauled him.

“Yes, that’s it. I like it when you fight,” he growled.

Your fingers came back from their assault bloodied, but you still couldn't break free. The creature didn't even notice the damage to his features. The sound of him breathing you in met your ears once more. “You smell divine.” When nothing happened beyond him trapping you and licking, you found your words again.

“Are you going to hurt me?" You whimpered, your expression clenched in fright.

Something changed in his demeanor, like he was displeased with the question. Your eyes opened hesitantly and you couldn’t help but gasp. He was completely uninjured, though the cocky smirk was less pronounced. After a pregnant pause, the arcane, toothy smile returned. His gaze slide back to yours with an unsettling glint in his eyes.

"One day, you will willingly give yourself to me." He announced with confidence and tucked away the extra extremities. His tongue licked down your legs to lave at the cuts to your knees as he purred loudly at you.

You knew a moment of vertigo when it felt like you were picked up and the scenery blurred. When you found your bearings again, you were dizzy outside your condo doors. You were left to yourself, nauseous, your pulse still racing. The vampire was gone. Your skin was unmarred, as if nothing had happened at all.

~To Be Continued~

[ihni]

It's @weird-an's birthday, so have a little Argilly (!) (yeah I know!) piece inspired by this post.

This piece is written to be read around the time they release season 5, because whatever shit they come up with to happen in Hawkins, our forgotten boys will just be living their best life in Cali.

~~~

Billy wakes up slowly, gaining awareness in increments. The softness of the sheet underneath him, the sounds of the traffic interspersed with voices coming from outside, the warmth of the air in the room and from the body behind him. Taking a deep breath, he stretches until his joints pop and then releases the air in a content sigh as he becomes boneless once again, turning around and snuggling up to the man behind him. Tucking his head in under the man’s chin, still without opening his eyes.

There’s a chuckle. Billy can feel the vibrations through the body he’s clinging to, and can’t help but smile.

“How long have you been awake?” he murmurs, and hums contentedly when a big hand splays out over the back of his head, scratching lazily at his nape.

“A while,” comes Argyle’s voice from close by, and Billy feels a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, then yawns.

“You’re cute when you sleep,” is the answer.

“I’m cute all the time.”

A laugh, and Billy can feel Argyle move as he nods. “Truth. But especially when you sleep. Also, we’re not in a rush. We can stay here all day, if we want.”

Billy starts to nod along, but then stops. Reluctantly blinks his eyes open. “Not all day. We’re meeting Tommy later, remember? You promised you’d show him all the best burger places in town.”

“Yeah but that’s not until the afternoon,” Argyle argues. “We have hours to go before then.” A pause. “You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

Billy considers. It’s still a luxury to be able to wake up at his own pace, and not have to hurry to get ready in the morning. It’s also not until recently that he has started sleeping through the night, with the nightmares being less frequent the longer he spends away from their source.

Two years. Two years since he clawed his way back to the real world, two years since he stopped having to sleep with one eye open, two years since fate – perhaps as an apology for everything it had put Billy through – brought Argyle to that godawful Indiana town. (No one could tell who was most surprised to see the other; Argyle, who had been told that Billy had died in a fire, or Billy, who hadn’t thought he’d ever get out of that hellish place at all. Their reunion was emotional and tearful and came as a shock to everyone else, who hadn’t even known that they knew each other. But honestly fuck everyone else.)

It has been two years now since Billy sat down in the passenger’s seat of Argyle’s van and went back to California without looking back; his only goodbye being a middle finger aimed at the ‘Leaving Hawkins’ sign as they passed, while Argyle’s hand rested on his thigh, gripping Billy’s other hand in his.

Two years later, and here Billy is, in bed with Argyle; his best friend, his lover, his Aggy. There are no monsters anymore, there is no Neil to be wary of. He is safe, he is warm, and he can go back to sleep if he wants.

Does he want that, though? He frowns. Something tickles his mind, like a half-forgotten memory. He dreamt something, he realizes, but trying to remember what it was is like trying to capture mist in his hands. It slips between his fingers like smoke, but still leaves him feeling vaguely uncomfortable.

Argyle, like always, notices. “What is it, Bee?” he asks, and hugs Billy closer. “Nightmare?”

“I don’t know,” Billy says, truthfully. “I don’t remember.”

Argyle hums. “You were moving around a lot. Talking in your sleep again.”

“Really?” Billy says. It’s been a while since he did that. “What did I say?”

“Just murmurs. No real words. You sounded kinda worried, though.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t remember.”

Billy rolls back a bit and puts his head on the pillow. He immediately misses Argyle’s warmth, but Argyle keeps his hand on the back of Billy’s head, playing with his hair, and at least this way he can look at Argyle’s face.

He’s beautiful. Big and strong and soft, with his sunshine smile that never fails to make Billy feel all warm inside and his long hair that somehow always looks perfect even right after waking, unlike Billy’s. There’s a mark on Argyle’s cheek from a crease in the pillow, and Billy wants to kiss it.

Argyle’s smile – widening at the sight of Billy, which will always be a thrill – is contagious, and Billy finds himself smiling too.

“’Mornin’, Aggy,” he says and leans forward to place a kiss on Argyle’s lips.

“’Mornin’, Bee,” Argyle replies and smiles into the kiss.

They lean their foreheads together and breathe for a while. Then Argyle stretches out too, like a big cat. Billy seizes his opportunity to plop himself on top of Argyle, who just laughs and puts his arms around him, pulling him closer. Chest against chest, Billy moves with Argyle’s expanding lungs as he inhales. It is soothing, and he tries to relax. But he doesn’t quite succeed – the remnants of the dream is still lurking in the back of his head.

Of course, Argyle notices. “Bee?” And of course, he knows what’s Billy’s thinking. “Do you think it’s got something to do with, you know, all that stuff from a couple of years ago?” He doesn’t even say ‘Hawkins’ out loud, because he knows how Billy feels about that town. It is just another reason to love him.

Billy wants to say no. Wants to reject it out loud, because all that is over. But that nagging feeling in his brain stops him. “I don’t know,” he admits. Argyle knows about the nightmares, about the dreams. He has met El after all, and knows what she can do – and he knows about the times, right after they got back to California, when Billy and El’s dreams merged. It has stopped now, thankfully. Or, he thought it did.

“Do you think something’s … wrong?” Argyle asks. His voice is neutral, but Billy knows him well. He knows what Argyle went through, too; what he had to see and live through on his way across the country two years ago.

And Billy decides, then and there, that “No. Nothing’s wrong.” Because they’ve had enough, him and Argyle. They’ve done their part. Billy has served his time; he paid the price, survived, got out and got away. The people they left back in Hawkins – none of whom cared enough about him to try to save him, by the way – could have left too. If they stayed around for the next wave of horror, that’s their choice.

Hawkins can burn to the ground, for all that Billy cares. If something’s about to go down there, Billy doesn’t want to be involved. Doesn’t even want to know about it.

“Okay,” Argyle says and pats Billy’s shoulder. As if he knows what Billy’s thinking. He probably does.

“And if it is,” Billy says, petulantly. Makes sure to say it out loud, so that the powers that be can hear his refusal. “If something is wrong .... If something goes down, back there? I don’t give a fuck.”

“Right on.” Argyle chuckles and kisses his curls. Hugs Billy even closer, trapping him against his chest and making him feel … small, and safe, and cared for. Something that Billy has only ever felt with Argyle, outside of when he was a child and his mother was still around. “Right on, my dude.”

Billy huffs out a laugh, but wrinkles his nose in distaste at the same time. “Don’t call me ‘dude’ in bed. It’s weird.”

“But you are my dude, dude.” Billy tilts his head back so he can glare at him. It’s hard to maintain a façade of annoyance in the face of Argyle’s sparkling eyes, but he manages through sheer force of will. “My little man.”

“Stop it.”

“My bro.”

“Aggy.”

“Brochacho.”

“I will literally kill you.” But despite his words, which are an obvious lie to the both of them, he cannot stop the smile that blooms on his face, or the blush that follows when Argyle laughs and peppers his face with kisses.

“Sure you will, dude.” Argyle sees straight through him. He always has.

That doesn’t mean that Billy will just take this kind of disrespect lying down. He struggles out of Argyle’s grip – only succeeding because Argyle lets him – and rolls and crawls with grunts and mutters to the edge of the mattress. He pushes off the bed and gets to this feet, uncaring of the fact that he’s naked, and cocks a hip to the side while he points at Argyle, who’s still sprawled out in bed, grinning. “Just for that, breakfast is on you.”

Argyle just keeps smiling, even as he leans forward and hooks his own finger around Billy’s, shaking his hand a little. And damn it, Billy is charmed. As always. “Sure thing, Bee. Cold pizza?”

“Leftovers? You call me ‘dude’ in bed, and I get leftovers?”

“Tasty, tasty leftovers, though.”

Tasty leftovers. Breakfast with his Aggy, after waking up in bed with his Aggy, in the apartment he shares with his Aggy.

A look to the window reveals blue skies with barely any clouds. The leaflets on the palm tree just outside moves gently in the breeze. Billy knows that if he opens the window, he will smell car exhausts from the road and Chinese food from the restaurant across the street and a hint of decomposing trash from the dumpster around the corner … and under all that, the salty air blowing in from the ocean, barely two blocks away.

Life is good.

He releases Aggy’s finger and takes his hand instead, pulls him up until he’s standing. Pokes him in the middle of his chest and raises his eyebrows as he looks up at him. “I want garlic sauce on mine.”

Argyle salutes – lazily, and with the wrong hand – and says, “You got it,” before pressing another kiss to Billy’s face – forehead, this time – and walking past him to get out the bedroom. Argyle’s not wearing anything either, and Billy watches appreciatively as his behind disappears around the corner.

Whatever might go down in Hawkins, it’s got nothing to do with him anymore – him or Aggy.

Life is good for them, now. He’s not trading this for anything.

And with that, he files the fragments of the dream away to be forgotten and follows Argyle out into the kitchen for a cold pizza breakfast.

~~~

(And yes, Tommy has moved there too because he deserves some kind of appearance as well, so I'll just headcanon that he and Carol maybe have moved out there and is finding their feet out in the real world. He's gonna become fast friends with Billy and Argyle and become a cook or something.)

[tparker48]

Request for anonymous

Fog scoured over the cul-de-sac as the sun rose from its curtain of mist. In a house at the ed of the street, a tall man named Guro Awakened from his slumber lumbering himself out of bed as he stared groggily at the clock.

“6AM..” he rubbed his chin, “Fuck we overslept, we need to get to airport..” he stuck his toothbrush in his mouth before heading to the bedroom, two lumps bunched beneath a sheet on the windowsill. He prodded at their curvatures with a finger. "Brock, Jerry, up and adam! We're gonna be late for the flight if we’re not gone in a few minutes."

The lumps shift beneath the sheets, growing in size as the cotton balls surrounding them dispersed to the floor. Scrawny arms poked from one side of the cover, a pair of feet extending from the other.

"Oh..shit.." one of the tinies stretched, their curly hair spiraling spreading from the cover like wires. “You just had to pick the morning flight..” Jerry rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked to the lump next to him, nasally rumbles lingering beneath them as he nudged a foot into its side. “Brock, stop acting like a brick and get up already.”

The exposed toes curled, cowering beneath the sheets as the tiny groaned groggily. "Why’d you have to go and kick me?” he wiped the slobber from the corner of his mouth, “ I was just having the best dream of my life."

"You say that every night, dear."

"Well it's true."

Guro rolled his eyes, taking to the window as he plucked the two from the platform. He lumbard toward a table, placing them on top as he made his way for his luggage in the chair. Today was the day the three of them went on their trip to Vegas. Since he was a kid he always dreamed of visiting there, his fantasy running wild of the possibilities he’d find. Fame, fortune, hell even the chance to see good actors. His mind thrived on the potential for him to explore, but nothing spiked his interest more, than to find someone who could take on his size.

He dabbled in a few hook ups during his time in the city, managing to fish a few guys here and there looking for a good time. But his tall physique was like kryptonite to potential seekers, each cowering before the colossal ass that spreads before him. He had no luck here, but that didn’t mean he won’t find one out there.

Finishing the rest of his packing, he placed the two love birds into his pocket before heading out of the door and to his car. And with that they were off to the airport, Guro taking the south highway that shortened the 40 minute drive through traffic. By the time they reached the main entrance, the sun rose over the hills, its crimson glow shining over the land.

Guro parked the car as he fetched the two from his pocket. "Alright we got about an hour before the flight boards.”

“Perfect, then that leaves us plenty of time to prepare.” Jerry hopped onto the glove compartment and kicked the loose panel, a bottle of anti-digest jostling to the edge. “I knew these would come in handy someday, it’s the perfect heist for the stomach.”

“About that, why again are you guys going in my stomach?”

“You’re the one that said the cost was too expensive for the three of us, so I thought of an alternative.” Jerry plucked one of the pills. “You get to sit all cozy in your chair, while me and hubby travel in your stomach.”

“It still doesn’t sound appealing when I hear it a second time around.” Guro said. “Having you two inside me sounds way too weird.”

“Relax, it’ll be fine.” Brock chimed in, “Just think of me and Jerry like skittles.”

He shuddered at the thought of swallowing his two friends, looking to his watch as time edged toward seven o’ clock. With a sigh, he grabbed a water bottle from the cup holder, untwisting the cap of the pills as he two. He washed it down his throat, before picking up Jerry and Brock, hovering them in front of his mouth.

“Here goes nothing..” He parted his lips, sprawling his tongue like a carpet as he tilted his head.

His tongue squished as the two tinies hopped into his gaping maw, sliding down the muscular appendage like penguins as they darted into his awaiting gullet. His lips scrunched as his throat worked at their complex forms, working them past the back of his tongue that rose to the ceiling. He squeezed his tongue against their feet, and his throat gave way, the muscular tube expanding as Jerry and Brock were accepted inside. The descent was like a slugs pace as peristalsis took over, guiding them to the entrance of his stomach.

Getting out of the car, he raised his shirt as his belly distended, a softened handprint poking from his torso. "It's darker in here than I expected,” Jerry said. “did you bring the flashlights with you, Brock?"

"Flashlights? I thought you grabbed them from the nightstand?"

"Why would you think I grabbed them? I was literally right next to you."

"Keep it down you two," Guro pounded at his chest. "we're almost inside."

He entered the sliding doors to the main lobby, other travelers swarming through the corridors like a sea of fish. Guro followed the narrow path to the terminals further in the distances,, ushering the shoulder of others to clear a way for his hefty luggage that nipped at his heels. He visited the check in machine, grabbing a ticket for his things as he dropped them with the attendees.

Dropping his luggage off, he spread his arms like wings, popping the cramps on his shoulder for hauling the heavy thing. He approached the line of the terminal, and his sense of his relief dispersed. Security would be up ahead, scanning baggage along with the passengers clothes for any signs of breach in policy. It wasn’t long before one of the officers approached, scanners in hand as they ushered him forward.

He sucked in his gut, and the scanning commenced as the coned device raised up and down his body. "Scanner's seem all clear, proceed." one of the officers said.

Guro nodded, moving through the terminals to the connecting hallway. He looked out of the translucent window to metal fins gliding over parts of the platform, the head of the plane turning the corner like a shark as it docked near the loading bay.

Movement stirred inside of him, his abdomen bucking as limbs twisted over the other. "Ugh, I knew I should’ve woke up earlier.” Jerry muffled, “ my cock’s leaking like a faucet for release.”

"Fear not my dear hubby, for your noble night shall ease your stress." Brock said.

Guro cheeks flushed, pounding a fist at his chest. " You two are not fucking in my stomach, it’s hard enough trying to keep you down already."

"Fine fine, party pooper.” Jerry said, “Then let’s at least get some grub, I’m starving in here!"

"Yeah!" Brock chimed.

“What? I just told-”

"Food! Food! Food!" the couple chanted, bouncing wall to wall as if they were seeds in a popcorn kettle.

"Alright, Alright already. just stop with the bouncing."

It was a good walk as Guro traversed deeper into the airport. Searching for the docking terminal, he followed the bolded signs that hung from the ceiling as they pointed further down the hall, leading him to the corner of the building where travelers waited for the aircraft.

Good, he still had some time to get those two some food. He followed a vertical path to a few shops stationed along the walls, passing by refreshment and accessories before he got to the food court section of the building. Snackbars stationed between the narrow pathways, packets of Doritos stacking their shelves as some spilled from their platform to the Gatorade bottles below.

"Perfect, chips should ease you two until we land." he said.

"Chips? No way! they'd be waterlogged by the time it enters in here." Brock said.

"It'll be soggy regardless once it gets there," he replied. "If that won't work then what do you want?"

"Burgers!"

"What? no that's too-"

"Ooo burgers, great Idea!" Jerry chimed. "What better way to kick things off than to have a burger!"

"A burger is way too greasy right now lets-"

"burgers! Burgers!" the couple chanted, bulges dancing beneath his tank top.

For fuck sake. He held his stomach extending a sheepish way to passerbys before speed walking around a corner. A burger parlor rested ahead, guarded by a crossroad as passengers passed to and from the bridges connecting it. He ordered his food and made his way to a booth facing the stream of other flight goers, fiddling the ticket number of his order between his fingers.

"Be sure to add extra cheese!"

"Oh! and ketchup, don't forget the ketchup!

Guro pounded his stomach. "Will you two pipe down, if you keep it up someone will-"

"Man all this traffic today," a smooth yet gruff voice said from behind, passengers splitting apart as a short lean man stepped through them. "Who’s bright idea was it to put this place in such a piss poor spot? I’m getting a wedgie down here."

The small man wrestled with his pants as he traversed to the booths. As he looked to the other tables occupied by guests, his gaze met Guro’s who peeked over his arm.

“Hey you, that seat next to yours taken?” the man pointed at the booth.

"Oh, uh no. It's all yours." Guro replied, gesturing a hand to the seat next to him.

The short man let out a sigh, the gears of the seat creaking as he crashed down upon it. “Ah, thank god, I can finally sit and eat.” He sat his tray upon the table.

Guro held a hand to his face as he focused on the passing passengers, the sound of paper unraveling as the lean man unwrapped his burger. Not a moment later, a waiter arrived with his food as they placed it on the tray. He picked up a stray fry, dipping it into ketchup as he nibbled over his shoulder.

The lean man tore into his burger as ketchup splattered the wrapper. "Say, I haven't seen you around these parts.” He garbled over his food, “You knew to this airport?"

Guro froze. "You could say that, I..don't really travel a lot."

I see," the lean man swallowed his chewed food, pounding at his chest. He extended a hand to Guro. "Well let me be the first to welcome you. Name’s Gary, it’s good to see new faces around here."

“Guro," He replied, shaking his hand. “I’m sure you meet a lot of folks out there.”

“Oh sure, I've seen so many passenger’s I’ve lost count. Met a few good ones over the years..” He stirred a fry into his ketchup. “And busted a few too.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Oh..you have? It must be..pretty rough.”

“Ugh tell me about it, they come out of the woodwork and think they run the entire place. Man, they give me gray hairs.” Gary said, “But nothing grinds my gears more than those with tinies.”

Guro’s eyes widened at the statement, fiddling with his straw. “Yeah?..”

“Totally. Smuggling them on board in my presence, it just makes me so..so..” He pounded his fist against his palm. “gah, they're lucky I’m at work. But you know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah yeah, I do, totally.” Guro fanned the air, sipping at his straw. “Those..rotten smugglers, why if they were I would-”

"cold! cold!" a faint mutter escaped his stomach..

His body locked, punching into his own stomach. Gary was caught aback, the lid of his drink popping undone.

"Woah there, drink went down the wrong pipe huh?"

"Y..yeah, guess I must've drank too long." He replied, holding at his stomach.

"Give me the fry!"

"get your own, I saw it first"

Guro froze again, looking to Gary who stood there attentively.

The side of his cheek twitched. "Ahe, you know I think my ears are whack from working on flights, but I could’ve sworn I heard some little voices just now."

"No! No! Not at all, I’m sure it was just uh..the conditioning."

“Nah, it sounded like voices alright. Just like it sounds like smuggling.” Gary leaned closer. “And when there’s smuggling in my presence, I-”

He jumped out of his seat. "Would you look at the time, I really must be getting to my flight.”

Guro scampered into the sea of passengers, rushing back to the narrow hallway he came from. He caught a glimpse of Gary’s stern stare, before it disappeared around the corner. —---------------------------

that was close, he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold that conversation. He lifted his shirt and gazed at his round belly, the lumps of his abs rising and falling as the two tinies danced beneath its layer.

"Can you guys at least try to keep things low? that guy was onto us." he said.

His stomach grumbled, Jerry’s voice resonating. “Wal..we…”

“What?”

“Hun, don’t try to speak with your mouthful” Brock replied. “It's just a minor hiccup, Guro. it slipped out.”

“Well don’t do it again or we’ll be caught.”

He returned to the main path of the hallway, joining the crowd that lined the entrance to the air bridge. He showed his ticket to the tenders and made his way down the hollow straight way, the hums of the plane's turbines vibrations through the metal floor. A wave of cool conditioning washed over him as he entered the opening of the plane, stray legs in the lane brushing against his own as passengers sat their luggage into the compartments above.

He found a seat in the middle of the plane, taking a seat as he glanced into the Isle. He managed to get on board, thank goodness, that hurtle of their journey was complete. He eyed the other passengers that traveled passed, looking at the metal wig blocking the window frame as its lights blinked. Movement stirred inside his stomach prodding at the muscular wall. He pulled the collar of his shirt over his face, staring at the wobbling lumps i his abdomen.

“Get the energy out while you can you two, it’s gonna be a long trip before we reach vegas.” he said in a lone tone, keeping an eye towards the lane.

“Easier said than done when your cock’s craving release. ” Jerry replied. “Blasted thing’s still leaking.”

“For the last time, you’re not fucking in my stomach.”

Jerry slouched against a fold in the fleshy chamber. “Ah come on, how else are we gonna get through this trip.”

“Because we almost got caught with you two’s bickering.” Guro replied.

“You’re still o about that guy back there, there’s no way he’d follow you in here.” Brock chimed, “Poor bastard’s probably helping the janitor’s than thinking about us.”

"Attention passengers, please listen up for the time being.” a voice called from the cockpit, the heads of passengers splitting as they turned to the front of the plane. Holding a microphone in hand, hidden away by the shoulders of the would be the short man from the burger parlor. "We've got a long flight ahead of us, so if you’d be so kind to keep in your seats we’ll be cruising through to vegas in no time.."

Guro peeked through the curl of the woman in front of him to the front aisle. “Shit..”

“What is it?” Brock asked.

“It’s that Gary guy again, of all the planes to be on it had to be this one.”

The fuzz of Gary’s hair traversed further down the aisle, a pamphlet in hand as he wagged it through the air. "As you all know it's important to ensure your mask is working to full condition," he said, "If you are having issues please let me or our staff.."

He trailed as he came to the middle of the aisle, the corner of Guro’s gaze meeting his own. His eyes were like daggers as they seething their judgments into Guro’s brain, eyebrows furrowing as if to harness their fiery sight.

"…Our staff know at a moment's notice." Gary continued, his steps drawing closer. His curly hair peered from the top of the pamphlet, his eyes locking onto him. "If there aren't any further questions..may you enjoy your flight."

His steps trailed behind, but he could still feel his sharp gaze as he moved to the back of the plane. The tension eased as the aircraft jerked, the docking platform fading from the small window as it faced the runway. The white stripes of the runway zipped through the window frame as the aircraft made its way to its lane. He hoped it would distract him from the sudden predicament, but he couldn’t help but look back to flight attendants buckling their belts, Gary side-eying him from a seat along the wall.

He leaned his head against the chair, and let out a heavy sigh. "This is going to be a long flight.”

--

Some time passed as the plane left the airport, soaring over the mountains decorating the plains below. Guro’s attention aimed at his body as the wall brushed his shoulder, hugging him into the cool interior as the plane tilted to the west. He looked down to his still stomach, prodding at the faint dimple protruding beneath his pecs.

Those two have been quiet since they took off, he’d best check on them.

He scoped the aisle for a second glance, eyeing the slouched necks of fellow passengers who tilted to the ceiling. He lifted his shirt, tapped at his distended gut. "Hey,you two good?.." he asked, his tone overwhelmed by the turbine outside. "Is everything okay in there?"

"Is what okay in there?" A voice startled him, Gary standing in the aisle with a tray.

"Geez you really need a bell, you can't just sneak up on people like that."

"What did I startle you fraidy cat? Its merely time for the passengers to have their snacks for the evening.” He plucked one of the bags from his tray. “I wanted to give you yours personally."

Guro eyed him cautiously. “Why?”

“Think of it as an apology, I’ve been watching you all this time to see if you’d croak. And yet, you sit there without a trouble in hand. So..” he set a couple of bags upon his tray, “I wanted to ensure you get the best nuts I could offer, as tribute.”

"Ah..how kind of you."

"Yes," Gary said. “I hope they're..to your liking."

He cycled to the next passenger, sharing a glance as he handed them peanuts from the trays below. That guy on his ass for so long, he forgot what it felt like to finally breathe in piece.

his stomach rippled as it sung its gurgly song, taps resonating from his abdomen. "What’s this I hear about snacks?" Jerry asked.

"About time you started to speak," he replied, "I thought I digested you too."

"You thought being in here would get the better of us?” Brock said. “It’ll take a lot more than a few burgers and fries for us to kick the bucket."

“Huh, I suppose you have a point.”

“Yeah.” Jerry chimed in, “on a related note, how about those snacks!”

Quick and to the point, that’s the Jerry experience for ya. But his request did linger in his mind, he thought the food from the restaurant would satisfy him for a little longer, but he can already feel his belly yearn for more to fill in its chamber. He looked to the plastic packets on his tray, fondling at their sealed ends.

"Why not," he picked one of them up, "a few peanuts couldn't hurt."

He tore the flimsy corner of the bag, dumping the miniature contents into his awaiting mouth as he chewed on their salty texture. Their solid form were soon reduced to mush beneath his molars, escorted by his tongue as it slithered down his throat with a simple gulp. Arriving in his stomach, Jerry and Brock became active, swirling inside his belly like pet fish.

"Huh, a little salty but these things actually aren't that bad." Guro opened another packet, tilting the torn opening to feast on the nuts.

He chewed at their crunchy forms once more, lapping at the slaty flakes in torn opening to savor their taste. But his stomach twisted as a bulge pushed in his stomach, Jerry and Brock moving around.

"What are you doing down there?" He said in a low tone, tapping at his stomach.

" These nuts are making me.. feel tingly." Brock muttered, kicking into the side of the stomach. “Hehe..my legs feel like jello

"you feel it too, I thought I was the only one." Jerry added, the bulge in his stomach expanding. "You know.. Did I ever tell you? you're.. kinda hot. Like really..really hot."

"Really? I was gonna say the same to you."

Guro shuddered as he felt his stomach swirl, the two tinies swirling around the wall like propellers as their moans reverberated the surrounding flesh. flustered, Guro leaned into his legs, tapping into his gut.

"Hey I told you not..to fuck in-” His stomach bucked as the two drove into stomach wall, footprints marking his abs before sinking back in. “Guys..stop..fucking.”

His words fell on deaf ears, the tinies pressing horizontally into the side of his belly. It was as if he swallowed a dinner plate, his stomach manipulating its curvatures as it squashed against his folds. He gripped at the armrest of his seat, over biting his lower hip.

steps echoed from the lane, Gary returning with a glass beverage. "Oh man, you look like you’re getting put through the ringer there?"

"What did you put in those nuts?" Guro groaned, holding his stomach.

"Nothing, just regular peanuts compared to us." Gary said, "though for small folk, you could say they become more..energetic. good thing it was just you who only drank it, right?" He shared a glance at Guro.

"r..right, no..tinies here."

"Mhm.” Gary plucked the drink from his tray, setting it up on Guro's. “ If there were tinies who ate them, this stuff does the trick for calming them down. Who knows,maybe it'll work on that stomach ache of yours too."

Guro opened his mouth to speak, but shuddered as legs swiped against his belly like brushes. Gary trailed from his gaze, walking down the path as he gazed upon the sloshing liquid in the plastic cup. Not good, if this keeps up he’ll jizz in his pants before they land.

His stomach turned again, his head brushing against the seat as sweat dripped on his brow. Looking to his pants ran through his body, his shaft pulsating as it bulge climbed to the surface. When the tip of his shaft outline the pouch, a wet spot darkening into the fabric, he caved.

He raised the plastic cup against his lips. swallowing ice and all as its cubes raced down his pipe. It sizzled along his tongue like sprite, its suds raced down his throat as it collected into his stomach. He shook the cup until the last drop met his tongue, slamming it upon his tray. His stomach expanded, the cool liquid spinning inside the chamber as the two couples calmed themselves.

He took a breath, basking in the hums of the plane. But he froze as the lingering figure returned, a golden name tag appearing in his peripheral.

"So it seems your stomach ache has calmed down, and not a single ice cube in the cup." Gary eyed the empty plastic, his arms crossing across his chest. "I'm sure it doesn’t take an Einstein to know what comes next?"

Guro's face grew dull, rolling his eyes to the window. "Fuck.."

Tires squeaked as the plane arrived at the vegas airport, cruising its way to the corner of the building where an empty air bridge awaited it. Guro stared at the front door, hands gripping his shoulders as Gary held him close.

"We have an hour before our next flight," Gary told another flight attendant. "I'm taking this one personally to security."

The flight attendant nodded, informing the captains of the situation. The door's hissed open, and a knee nudged into his legs.

"Is that really necessary-"

a knee struck him again. "Silence troublemaker, you'll be given what you deserve soon enough."

They moved through the long narrow hallway to the entrance, one of the employees opening the door as he stepped outside. Eyes glued onto the display as they moved through passengers, snickers fluttering the crowd as Guro sulked beneath the collar of his shirt. His sense of security was quickly diminished as a nudge yanked the slim fabric from his chin, Gary shoving him into the next corridor. After countless steps, they turned into an empty path, Gary opening a solid door to darkness on the other side.

"After you." Gary escorted him in, tossing him to the middle of the room.

"Look, I get that this wasn't the best idea, but do you know how expensive tickets are nowadays?"

"Oh I know how much they are, but don’t think you’ll get any mercy from it." Gary slammed the door, locking it behind him.

He approached in a slow stride, his form widening in width as he reached Guro’s chest. Even half his size, his demeanor drove his heart to a fast race, his legs backpedaling as the flight attendant gained ground.

Cold steel soon kissed at his back, Gary breath flowing over his chest. "Remember what I said about those with tinies?"

"I..I don't recall."

"I said when I find in my mist, that there will be dire punishment. And when I get my hands on them I-"

Guro shielded his face. "Jail them!"

"Fuck them!"

Guro's shuddering ceased, blinking in confusion. "W..what?"

"You heard me."

"So you did all of this, just to fuck me."

Gary scoffed softly. "Well I gotta get my buzz one way or another. I could’ve called you out at the restaurant, but why spoil it there?"

"b..but-"

a foot lunged toward him, stomping the wall above Guro’s shoulder. "Ain't no buts about it, You're still a troublemaker for making me have to stretch to get the answer out of you.” Gary caressed his chin. “But since you’re kinda cute, I’ll cut ya deal."

He unbuckled his belt before taking to his fly, ringing his finger into the pouch of his boxer. With a flick of his finger, drawed the beast sleeping in his pants. Its slender length swelled against his thigh, its veins pulsing as it pointed its fleshy tip like a spear.

"You can accept your punishment and show me a good time, or I can let security deal with you and far worse."

Guro's cheeks flushed at Gary's options, its energy driving its way through his body as it was fed to his own cock. This predicament was peculiar to what he expected, and yet, it seemed to exhilarate him the more he ran it though his mind. The cock wagged closer, drawing at the air like a magic pencil as its baked musk whipped beneath his nose. His own shaft throbbed in his pants, punching into his pouch as if it were begging to be let out.

He watered his lips. “Just show you a good time?”

“Mhm,” Gary replied, bucking his shaft closer, “show me just enough, and I might let you off the hook.”

He reflected on his words, before looking to his waist. The lengthy appendage flicked as it brushed the tip of his nose, a drop of pre soaking his skin as salt whiffed through his nostrils. He clasped both hands along the leaking head, nodding softly as he felt its strength pulse between his palms..

"Splendid," Gary said, a hint of excitement decorating his tone. "Unbuckle those pants of yours."

Guro adjusted himself from the wall before taking to his belt buckle, unfastening its hold on his waist as the fabric slithered to reveal his toned glutes beneath. Their warm sheets were relieved, a pinch resonating on both cheeks as fingers spreading them apart.

"Well, well, Quite the star you have back here." Gary said.

"T..thanks, I try to keep it cared for in my spare time."

"I can tell, let's see just how taken care of it truly is for my monster."

his hole rippled as fingers prodded its center, flattening the folds between the rings before the phallus made contact. He strained as his anus widened, sliding Gary's girth inside him as it climbed the curvature of his anal walls. The flight attendant thrusted his hips, and their waist's clapped together as if there were a puzzle.

the attendant started to rock, sawing through Guro's ass like a saw as the shaft drove in and out of him. Pump after pump, his toes curled as Gary filled more of him inside, its bulge intermittently appearing beneath his lower abdomen. From mere moments he found himself bending towards the toilet, his own body taking to his shaft to channel the energy to his leaking tip.

As time passes, the two grinded in sync, their symphony of grunts and moans reverberating through the walls of the bathroom.

"Not bad, you're holding punishment well."

"That's nothing..I can take more."

"Oh?” Gary mused, clasping the tender mounds between his palms. “Then I hope you can keep your socks on for the finale."

He thrusted his shaft deeper into Guro, his waist clapping with his as a lump appeared intermittently in his torso. Push after push, a dimple began to form as the phallus imprinted along his abdomen. With a firm ease into Guro, the softened features of the tip appeared, two human shaped silhouettes decorating next to it as they grumbled beneath the tender muscle

"Hmph, so these are the tinies giving you trouble." Gary said.

"they're.. friends of mine." Guro replied.

"I see,” Gary chuckled, stirring Guro's inside like a batter barrel as Jerry and Brock wobbled around. “Seems they're having fun of their own. no wonder you were so skittish on the plane."

His skin bulged like a vacuumed compartment, wincing as the two silhouettes bobbed along his belly like mardi gra shadow puppets. The two of them basked in the silence between them, feeling the attendant's shaft thrust his torso from side to side. but soon a chime rang through the air, the flight attendant checking his phone.

"Looks like it's boarding time, I better get back to the plane" he said, grabbing one of Guro's cheeks as he unplugged his shaft from the depth of his hole, folding a bundle of tissue paper over the tip that leaked the floor. "I assume you can stand on your own?"

Guro rose from the toilet seat, his legs floundering as if they were made of jelly. "Well..more or less."

"Good, I wouldn't want there to be another mess than there already is." Gary said with a pat.

The two of them walked out from the bathroom, Guro waddling toward the door as Gary held it open. Getting into the main hall, security turned from the far corner, their walkie talkies going off as they approached the two.

"There you are, we had a report of some misconduct from the place." One of them said, "Is this who we were sent to retrieve?"

Guro opened his mouth to speak, but Gary's palm raised in front of him. "No, it was a false alarm. I thought we had a troublesome situation, but it's been resolved."

the guards grumbled at the flight attendant's response, nodding softly before they returned to the hallway. disappearing, Guro took a breath.

"I'm..not in trouble."

Gary patted at the cylinder like bulge in his pants. "Consider it a courtesy for a good time."

"I..well-"

"you're welcome." Gary interrupted, handing him a piece of paper from his pocket. "Take this, a voucher next time you fly with us. and be sure to follow the rules next time, can’t guarantee you’ll be let off easy if it's not me."

Guro blinked at the slim piece of paper, taking it from Gary as he slid it into his pocket. With that, he nodded in understanding, Gary acknowledging as he traversed into the hallway. Soon the sound of passing passengers filled the space, leaving Guro with his own thoughts.

fancy that, he thought, to think a simple fuck with a flight attendant would get him off the hook. Whether it was luck or just pure satisfaction, he was glad that hurdle was over and done with. But something else lingered in his mind, a piece he was forgetting, but what?

"Fuck, my baggage!"

Navigating through the halls to the baggage claim downstairs, he had some time to kill as he waited for his transportation to arrive. Sitting along a bench near the entrance, he reflected on the encounter in the bathroom stall, reminiscing over the long slender shaft that once dwelled inside. He fondled the contents of his bloated belly, his fingers squishing upon his abdomen as if it were a water bed. it was..refreshing in a way, at least now he was able to walk straight.

His taxi arrived as he moved to a hotel further up the road, booking a room as he made his way up the flights of stairs to the second floor. He kicked open the door and dropped his bag, heading over to the bathroom as he ventured to the tub. He turned on the shower faucet, warm water washed over him as he squatted over the drain as seed drooled from his hole like an uncapped bottle. Clench after clench its flow moved like a stream melting into a watery substance before it disappeared into the drain.

But the stream began to spurt as solid objects pushed at his hole, forcing him to heave as his ring flexed and contracted. He adjusted his stance and squeezed at his stomach, a wave of seed spewing from his hole and between his legs as it rinsed beneath the water.

A tangle of arms and legs seeped from a wad,its gunk melting away as the two tinies laid along the drain.

“That's what I call a trip.." Jerry mumbled.

"You can say that again." Brock said, looking to Guro who stood over them. “You certainly made a mess. What were you doing out here?”

He shook his head softly. “Just having some fun.”

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 29-Choices

Day 29-Misty

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Other Days

A Western Summer

Thomas hummed as he ran along the coast with the early morning train. Normally Oliver took the train, but Thomas had volunteered as he was already awake, and wanted the time alone to think. He couldn't see far, the thick morning mist along the coast swirling comfortably around him, but he wasn't concerned. The train was a slow run, and no other trains ran this early.

His time on the Little Western had been better than he expected, more than he had dared hope if he was honest with himself. It was a gorgeous line, albeit very busy, in many ways a second mainline now that it extended up past Harwick. He had enjoyed running by the sea, and hoped the plan to restore the old coastal run to Tidmouth as part of the Ffarquhar happened.

His mood dropped at the thought of his line. By all accounts the damage had, if anything, been worse than initially suspected. The track would be repaired soon and he would pull the first train across the newly repaired bridge…but his line didn't need him. Wouldn't until well into Autumn optimistically. So many businesses and quarries had been damaged, there wasn't enough traffic for all the engines. People weren't taking the trains to work, because there was no work until their workplaces could be repaired or in many cases, rebuilt. From what Thomas heard from Percy, Daisy was able to handle the passenger traffic on the Northern half of the line by herself without issue, her seats far from full. Luckily the construction crews had taken on most of those left without work, but the majority of their work was within the towns. The only reasons the bridge repair had taken priority was to get engines out and supplies in. Thomas had been given a choice, he could return home when the bridge reopened…but he would be alone. The other engines were being transferred to other lines. With Thomas covering the passenger work, the little freight could easily be handled by an engine from the mainline.

Thomas missed his branchline so badly it ached. Excluding overhauls, that was possibly the longest he’d been away from his line since he had been given it…but he really didn't want to be alone.

He was tired, exhausted really, the idea of being alone in the shed every night, of spending everyday running up and down an empty line. Thomas wasn't certain he could take it. He certainly didn't want to put his coaches through it. They would do it for him he knew…but he didn't want to ask it of them.

His other option was to return to the Little Western. He could stay here until his branchline needed him again. He could relax on a branchline where he wasn't the leader, where his only duty was to pull his trains to time. He could spend the night in a full shed, surrounded by his fellow engines. He could stay with Duck.

The pannier had been a Ladysend. Someone who understood just how painful losing his branchline was. That it wasn't just a loss of position, as the mainline engines teased. It was like a part of him was missing. 

Thomas pulled into a sleepy station, only a handful people on the platform this early in the morning. As they loaded in, he considered his partner.

He had been surprised when the Great Western engine began flirting…once he noticed anyway. In the end he had decided to give it…to give them a chance. He couldn't exactly say why at the time, he had hardly given thought to relationships before. He couldn't even say for certain now why he’d say yes, but he suspected it was because he felt Duck was one of the few engines that saw him. Most of the early North Western engines still saw a little station Pilot when they looked at Thomas, a little tank engine who desperately wanted to escape the station yard. While it had happened less and less as the years went on, it had never completely disappeared. The newer arrivals had almost the exact opposite problem. They saw Caomhnóir. The Lady's champion. The engine that saved others from scrap. While Thomas was devoted to the role of Caomhnóir, and proud of his work…it was a weight. So many engines only saw his successes, not the stress that came with each rescue attempt…the guilt with every failure.

Duck was one of the few who saw the engine beneath where the two met. Oh there were others, but none that he was interested in…much less that were interested in him.

Thomas hadn’t realized how much weight he’d felt the last few years until he arrived on the Little Western. He was so used to the weight he hadn't known to do with himself until Duck had asked to court him.

 Thomas could admit to himself that it was nice being the one taken care of for once. To let another engine worry about the branchline… about him. Duck had proven a proper Swindon gentleman, seeming to thrive on the chance to pamper his partner. Thomas shouldn't have been surprised to find there was a Great Western way to court someone, or that Duck would be as dedicated to it as any part of the Great Western Way.

The guard blew his whistle and waved his flag, and Thomas rolled quietly out of the station. He’d enjoyed Duck's company much more than he’d thought he would, finding someone who understood the growing pains of being a station pilot turned head of their own branchline.

Thomas sighed, he suspected he would miss Duck's company when he returned home as much as he missed his line’s engines now.

If he went home, he'd be alone. If he stayed, he could spend more time with Duck…but it could be months before he could go home.

He puffed on into the mist, trying to make his decision.

[hellcab]

TATTERDEMALION

Just a long dabble about Roth and The Yellow King. It gives some hints to Roth's upcoming event and another "God".

Black, near-acidic rain came pouring down from the smog choked skies above. It was always worse in the morning. Then again, the hours blend. Roth swallowed several caffeine pills with his morning coffee. There was vodka for punch in the brew.

Rubbing his eyes, he stared out ahead towards the busy street. The morning rush was in full swing. The desperate hoard sleepwalking off towards work. Vendors opening, despite the horrid weather. A traffic accident took center stage with bickering sinners. Violence. Desperation. Sadness. Rage.

He could feel it all like static in the air.

Roth slouched into his car seat and crossed his arms. Wrapping his chest tightly, he pretended he was somewhere else. Perhaps, somewhere better.  Growing hazy, his mind wanted sleep. Sure, the pills were in his system but that rarely helped.

He couldn’t sleep. He wanted to sleep. The times he tried became troubled with nightmares and terrible visions. Old ghosts strangled his neck from beyond the grave. Failures that gnawed on his spine.  Dead friends and lost lovers. The fear of the future weighing on his soul.

When he could sleep. When he could sleep without the nightmares. He can never, ever rest.

There was never any rest.

A gently tapping at the window got his attention. Roth sees his first customer outside the window. A yuppie, sporting an expensive look that screamed corporate decadence. They stood outside, sheltered by their umbrella as they tapped once more.

Roth could do worse with anyone else, but this customer actually had money. So why not. Signaling them, The Yuppie went to the back and entered. He collapsed his umbrella as he entered the cab. Overall, they seemed unbothered by the rotting interior. Then again, it beats walking in the black rain. Their clothes were impeccable.

“Where you’re heading?” Roth inquired as he twists around to look at his first customer. The Yuppie fixed his hair, which was coal black. “EvilSoft, at Mammon Business Plaza. No rush, I’m heading in early.”

“How surprising. That’s two-fifty for the ride and three very mile.” The Yuppie offered money for the fair and Roth accepted. Starting the cab, the Brimstone engine roared to life with ferocity. It was a mean machine of unstoppable power.

Roth joined traffic as they drove on through the storm. The world outside was muted. The mist and smog made things strained on the eyes. Roth could see blurs that eventually became shapes he could understand. The world was a hazy dream.

There was silence at first. Then, The Yuppie started talking. Roth normally could care less when talking to his customers. Sometimes, he preferred the silence. Most times, he preferred the radio. But, somehow, he rather liked his passenger today. Sure, they were a yuppie fuck. Roth’s own envious mind itched with frenzy scorn on that.

But . . . who really cares down here? Besides, the radio hasn’t been working that well lately.

Slowly, Roth opened up to the other as they talked sports. They talked about music. They talked about celebrities. The Yuppie spoke of his love of Verosika Mayday.

“That’s what I’m saying, her music is vibrant with that cynical bite. There’s more than sex and dirty talking. Just uh, message about the dating scene and one-night stands. You know.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean. I read the lyrics, and I get it. Sometimes, sometimes I can.”

Roth was closer to downtown now, nearing Mammon Plaza and ready to collect his full fair this morning. Honestly, not a bad start to the day’s tribulations. Best of all, his passenger wasn’t that half bad. For a Yuppie, which is.

“Say Roth, do you like the arts just as much as anyone with good taste? I sense that, you’re an artist.”

Roth gave a laugh, but he decided to humor this little question.

“Yeah, I suppose so. I . . . sometimes I write stuff. Poems, y’know.”

Roth came to a red light, stopping along with other cars. It was busy down here, with never-ending road work being done. Imps and Hellhounds, working for a slave’s wage in terrible conditions. Roth watched as sparks came up from a Hellhound cutting rebar.

The light turned green, and Roth proceeded onwards.

The Yuppie spoke again, grinning ear to ear as he laughing. The laughter strangely unnerved Roth in some strange, animalistic way. As if there was something wrong to the laughter only his deepest, primal senses can hear.

“Y’know, I’ve been to plays. Theater. Opera. I wanna ask you something Roth. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, what?”

There was silence. Just silence in that cab along with the droning of the rain. The engine and the muted sounds of the city outside.

“Have you seen The Yellow Sign?”

Roth’s heart was strangled with blind panic. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t even react. Eyes stared ahead as the world turned wrong all around him. Everything was Dark. The city, the road and the rain were gone within the blink of an eye. Replaced with the howling void of nothing. Roth’s courage was made void as he stared into the dark void of nothing.

Roth prayed he was dreaming. Roth prayed this was a nightmare.

The Gehenna Cab was trapped in this strange nothing. Roth wasn’t even sure if they were moving still. That was not his greatest concern.

He knew someone was back there. It wasn’t The Yuppie; it was someone else. Someone he had hope he would never come face to face again with. He knew he was there. The air changes and the pressure grow on Roth to turn around. He was compelled to turn around. To see him. To look upon him with his eyes.

He’s a king, whom emperors have served. The Hebrews called him Kiawan. He is The Unspeakable God of mad artists and entropic loners. The Tatterdemalion King.

Roth looked as knew who it was.

Hastur. The Yellow King.

The tattered robes of yellow concealed the night underneath. The pallid mask hides the face of godly madness. This was what Roth witnessed when he first summoned him so many years ago.

Roth prayed to him during his bout of insanity. He kept Roth alive. He gave Roth purpose beyond the asylum. He was his savior. His benefactor.

He owned his soul.

“Kruger . . . . .”

The voice of Hastur made Roth’s skin crawl with despair and anxiety. Roth was panicking and wanting to escape. But here he was, trapped with The Yellow King. What did it want from him? What did it need from him? Roth went so many years without having to summon it.

It owned Roth soul and that was just about the end of it. One soul for power, one soul for the chance to survive Hell. Roth’s powers came from The Yello King, by his royal blessing.

Through him, Roth drove his enemies to madness. With him, Roth could be so more powerful but yet, he dared not to. The Yellow King was a virus unlike anything. Roth knew the risk of being overexposed to his maddening presence.

He did not want to become subsumed by him. He did not desire to become trapped in Carcosa.

And yet . . . there was something inside him that wanted to.

He wanted to escape to that place of twin suns. Black stars and the shores of Hali. He wanted to drown in the debauchery of Carcosa. To succumb to the yellowing madness of the city.

It scared Roth to want these things.

Before Roth could speak, The Yellow King vanished in blinding light to the front seat. Now closer, mow looming with alien apathy towards Roth.

“Escape . . .  you are going to leave?”

It was pain to be this close to oblivion. Roth looked away in fear, knowing The Yellow King sees all.  Roth bowed his head, his eyes closed as he knew he could not escape.

“Yes.”

The Yellow King’s face turned towards the void. He could not be read. Or understood. He was alien a foreign, strange in every way beyond what was expected of Gods. Roth was in the hands of this entity. One false move, one moment of wavering loyalty, would end his entire struggle.

“There will be pain. Truth. Revelation. The beginning of the end of things. The strings on humanity.”

Roth looked with anxious curiosity on his eyes towards Hastur. What did he mean by that? What did he mean by Revelation? Is he speaking of the end times? What of truth? What was this about the strings on humanity?

“It will burn you. You will gain knowledge. You will see what lies beyond the door. You see will see. You will see.”

“See what?”

“The lion. The snake. The mockery of Gods.”

Roth wasn’t sure what that meant. He does not know what that means yet but . . . hopes he never will.

“You will suffer. You will be dragged and quartered by this place. Humiliated and cast aside. You cannot bear that . . .”

“I’ve suffered too much already.” “Ignorant still?”

The mockery of his answer scared Roth into silence as he stared ahead. The Yellow King stared ahead as well.

“You can leave. You will leave. Only, in the end, you will return to this place. Without friends. Without love. Without me.”

Roth stared up and looked puzzled and fear. He didn’t want to believe any of that. There was a part that clings to the idea of freedom from Hell. To escape, this place and never return. But The Yellow King sees all and knows all. He would not lie, but Roth wanted to believe he was lying.

He lied to himself to believe it.

“Look at me.”

Roth was breathing hard as he stared ahead. He does not want to look. He knows what he will see and yet, knows nothing of what he will see. He knows whatever lies beyond the mask is the bane of sanity.

“Look At Me.”

Still, he does not want to turn his head. Every atom screams with fear as Roth resisted.

“LOOK. AT. ME.”

Finally, Roth turned his head and looked. There was blinding light as Roth was returned back to normal. He hears The Yuppie screaming in panic, as Roth realized he was driving into traffic. Though dazed, Roth quickly diverted and narrowly missed wrecking his cab. Slamming on the breaks, Roth stopped the cab as his passenger screamed every obscenity at him.

Roth was too drained to even respond. He slouched in his seat as The Yuppie screamed at him.

Roth looked ahead.

He cannot see past the rain.

[charlesandmartine]

Thursday 14th November 2024

The sun has risen, and the truckstop is in full swing. We sat outside our unit at our sophisticated stainless steel bistro style table inches away from the back of the Ford Ranger. The rear of the truckies kitchen just a few more inches away, but now, with the all pervasive aromas of full Australian breakfast superceding the carbolic; the fat lingering like early morning mist, a new day had begun. Roadtrains are pulling into the yard, so many it began to assume the appearance of a marshalling yard. But this was their business; fill tanks, fill stomachs, and provide shelter. Then all would quiesce with long drives ahead. When sitting within a facade of civilisation, it's easy to overlook the isolation of the outback just a few hundred meters away.

Camooweal was a tiny town, but if it didn't exist, it would be invented. I could imagine those that lived there would say they love it. It was just a small grid of roads, six vertical and three horizontal, but within that was a school, town hall, hotel/ pub, two petrol stations, a couple of historical corrugated iron buildings, post office/ supermarket, and a clinic. The girl next door to us who spent the best part of the evening on the phone, walked past our breakfast this morning wearing some sort of uniform and a lanyard and we figured she maybe was working at the clinic, and sure enough, as we passed the clinic, there was her orange car with the registration, NUTS. You may need to be to work there. She probably tours from small community to small community, and she could have been anything from a neurosurgeon to nail clipper, I don't know.

Now, no longer Territorians, our drive today was a modest 190 kms to Mount Isa; not a tax break or, and for that matter, hardly a mountain at only 356 meters. A gentle start for our trans-Queensland sojourn to the coast. The road between Camooweal and Mount Isa is punishing with little to see along its length. One small respite was a very small, modest and unassuming memorial to David Sering Hall, 1902-1950, Road Engineer. Another stop boasted a WW2 memorial, but which turned out to be a board which mentioned the ground we were standing on, in contrast to the road in front of us being the one they built in 1940 to serve additional war traffic to Darwin. Well, that certainly deserved a big plaque and an applause. (Much bigger display, I might say than poor old David Sering Hall's)

Now, no one could say Mount Isa is pretty or delightful. It is a mining town pure and simple. Copper, lead, zinc and silver mines abound. The nearby lake, possibly the prettiest aspect, used to be a mine. The Enterprise Mine, Australia's deepest copper mine at 1.9km is here. This is serious mining country. Not, you might say, big for tourists? Well, maybe not for conventional tourism, but as an unusual, interesting place, tourism plays its part in the local economy. Were it not for mining, Mount Isa probably wouldn't exist other than perhaps as another truckie stop. The mine is the town; it dominates the skyline as well with its presence. There is wealth in the town, and certainly, if waistlines is a measure of wealth, they are doing quite well. The town bustles. Traffic everywhere. People everywhere. There's a Coles, Woolworths, Kmart, Clubs, Bowling Club even. This is so different from the Top End we have become accustomed to over the past few weeks. Our accommodation is rather nice. Two bedroom, well equipped house. Small back garden to relax in, and even smaller front garden. It's great to have a bit more space before we revert once again to Roadhouses. We have three nights here, so we make the most of it.

Great Northern Beer, when we returned from Coles, then Vindaloo Chicken with SB and a pastry. We shall seek out a tourist information place first thing in the morning.

ps. Temperatures still up there in the early forties. Whilst in Camooweal, my phone weather App said it was 41, feels like 40. Well I thought that. Definitely not 41!

[bikepackinguk]

Day One Hundred and Six

Scouting around Bognor yesterday evening allowed me to come across Bersted Brooks Nature Reserve on the outskirts of town, which provided an excellent wealth of patches to shelter up for the night.

The morning air is crisp and my breath is misting as I pack up, but the aky is clear with just a few high whisps of cloud so it may end up being another hot one.

Out and at it again, it's out of town and onto the A259 to make a twisting course eastward along the adjacent cycle path, as it leads past some construction areas and alongside busy traffic.

It's a pleasing start to the day as the road is backing up with traffic around Climping, whilst I'm able to sail past with minimal effort.

Over the River Arun and into Littlehampton, I swing down past the small harbour and hit the seafront. The waters of the English Channel are nice and calm in the early sun, gently lapping at the shore as I have a nice sit and admire the view ahead.

A nice ride along the beach down to Rustington, I follow the road winding its way back up around a stretch of farmland before dropping back down to the shore again at Goring-by-Sea.

Ahead is a long, long stretch of coastal riding through some big urban centres, time for some easy miles!

On through Worthing and past the pier, it's a good leg of cycle paths out of the traffic before hitting the road again to cross the River Adur into Shoreham-by-Sea.

The path leads through some heavy industrial areas around the harbour at Southwick, before getting back off the roads as the trails pick up once more as I head into Brighton.

The sun is shining brightly as the day progresses, making for another hot day once again, but it's been mostly flat going so far as I head up to and around Brighton's famous pier and on to the marina.

The level terrain comes to an end here as the road begins to rise up and over the white chalky cliffs as I push around the coast of Sussex. It's some rolling climbs and descents as the road forges onwards in the heat, but I'm fortunately able to stay out of the heavy traffic throughout this long urban section.

I finally get past Seaford and meet the edge of the Seven Sisters Country Park. The paths and pavements disappear here and there's no choice ahead for me but to hit the A259 and slog it out in the traffic as the road takes to the cliffsides through some beautiful countryside.

Up and over the hills, it's another day of sweaty effort, but it's not too far to work at to reach East Dean where I can turn off from the busier traffic to head down to the visitor centre at Birling Gap for an impressive view of the Seven Sisters cliffs back down the coast.

It's time for the big effort of the day as I carry on round the road for a long ascent up to the famous Beachy Head. Whilst it's certainly a challenging climb in places, after my travails through Scotland and the West Country it doesn't match some of the awful gradients I've had to struggle through, and I manage to make the summit without too much exhaustion.

The view from up on Beachy is stunning on a day like today, with some panoramic sights of the sea and a wonderful view along the coast ahead past Hastings. I decide to reward myself with an ice cream for my efforts!

Back onto the road, it's time for a nice long glide downhill, with a twisting road leading down through some leafy woods and along the clifftops above Eastbourne seafront.

It's a lovely ride down through Eastbourne, along a pretty promenade section and past the pier, and along the road as it tracks around the long beach.

Past Sovereign Park, there's a turn around the dense suburbs lining the harbour, and a convenient supermarket where I stop off for resupply and a check of the map.

With the evening setting in, it's time for me to hunt for a place to rest my head. There aren't a ton of options for stealthily getting the tent up around, so I push on a ways round Pevensey Bay, which has similarly been dry on convenient options.

It may be a night in the bivvy ahead, but with the forecast remaining clear and dry it shouldn't be much trouble to find a convenient bench. I'll let you know how it goes in the morrow.

TTFN!

[muhammadgiovanni]

I just traveled round trip across the country to see Joni Mitchell in concert. Stopping at National Parks on the way there and back home. The furthest west I went was to Cannon Beach in Oregon. Saw the Haystack Rock and the Pacific Ocean for the first time, first time seeing out west too. I went to the Badlands, Yellowstone, Mount Rainier, Cannon Beach, Grand Teton, Yellowstone (again), Theodore Roosevelt, and then the Indiana Dunes Nat. Park (which was the worst, there was a huge gas plant right next door and smog and pollution filled the air).

First time experiencing such large, expansive landscapes—I mean I've seen wide open spaces before, just nothing like what I saw near Yellowstone and Mt. Rainier. On my way from South Dakota to Montana, I took Route 212, which eventually leads to the Cheyenne Reservation, but that road was barren. Hardly any population, no exits, etc. just a two-way highway with big rigs flashing passed you. If you want to pass the person in front of you, you'd better calculate it right. Apparently it's one of the most dangerous highways in America. I rode that for hours, driving across flat, spacious lands and up through the Custer Gallatin National Forest.

I got off 212 before Billings, MT and that's where I first came across the Yellowstone River. That night I stayed in Bozeman, MT and in the morning spontaneously decided to go to Yellowstone. From there the adventure really began. White capped Mountains came into view for the first time, nearing Bozeman. I was so emotional driving to the West entrance of Yellowstone. It was early morning and the moon was setting over this snow covered mountain range, and the sun rising over it all. You wind down this long road, along rivers and through valleys—in the thick of nature (Route 191 from Big Sky, MT to the West entrance of Yellowstone) After Yellowstone I headed for northern Idaho, then finally Quincy/George, WA area where I stayed for a few days before seeing Joni in concert.

Joni was incredible. I was expecting my mind to implode but when I saw her but I was just like, yup there's Joni Mitchell. It was natural. She was so sweet and jovial and it was just the icing on top of this unbelievable journey, that was only just beginning. Following the concert I traveled to Mount Rainier. Going through Yakima county which was desert like, until you start nearing the park area. Just near the end of Yakima county you can see the rivers are turquoise. Then the farther you get into the mountains, the lakes are bright blue, glacial blue. Mount Rainier hangs in front of you, following it deeper into the mountains. Eventually I arrived in Packwood, WA and took a back road "Skate Creek Road S" to the Nisqually entrance. That went through deep woods, following a river until you hit a stretch of road with huge trees towering over you. By the time I reached the park the morning mist had fully moved in, blanketing Mt. Rainier.

From there I went to Cannon Beach in Oregon to see the Haystack rock. That was beautiful and magical. Then crossed Oregon, then Idaho where I reached Ammon, ID. I was going to have an early end to travel day, so I decided to go see "Across the Spider-Verse" but when I reached the area a storm moved in and torrential rain poured down. Ponding started happening, then all of the traffic seized and the side road I was suppose to go down was closed. I eventually made it to the theater, but you could here the pound of the storm from within. I was full of anxiety until the movie ended and I came out to sunshine and relief. A lot more happened but i'll leave this here. I had fun. ☺︎

[kizzer55555]

So this prompt has so many good reblogs and comments but they are all scattered so I’m taking my favorite ones and combining them. This includes reblogs from @the-scarecrow-of-aus, @ikiprian, @michaelshadow7779, @iglowshroom, and @detectivedarling 

The early morning rush hasn't started yet when Danny takes one step onto a suspiciously empty carriage at stark street station. his mouth starts to spout the glowing smoke making him freeze. He blocks everybody from entering with his arm. (Person behind stopped by arm first happens to be one of the bats in civilian clothes. Pick and mix/I'm going Steph) "oof! What the heck man?" Danny barely gives them a glance before replying "sorry, one moment, nobody get on the carriage please!" reaches over for the emergency controls and hits the emergency call.

It takes a moment for the tired driver to answer before Danny cuts them off. "Yeah, hi, sorry to bother you but you need to alert the gcpd and take this train out of service immediately"

"And why would I do that?" Asked the driver obviously rubbing the sleep out of his eyes

"Two reasons. One, Because there's 6 canisters of scarecrow gas rigged for a slowed release throughout the day inside this carriages access points for a microdosing plot and two, you never made it home last night. you were abducted and have been conditioned to hit a purge button under your foot the moment one of the bats enters the train dumping all gas into the area inside and out of the carriage. That's why you're so sleepy, if you don't believe me, think if you can remember feeding your dog last night and this morning? That should be enough to cut through the conditioning, I'll wait".

There was a spluttering pause as things settled in followed by a frantic panic attack noise over the speaker as the train was turned off and the driver dived out of the driver's cabin babbling about their dog. "Sigh, they didn't send the warning..." Danny cocked his head then looked at Steph curiously intent. "Hey, Could you do me a favour? Pass on the message to the 'authorities' (Steph didn't like how he said that) about this train and ..." Danny trailed off as if listening to someone else before continuing "and the 6:10 at merchants square. I'm certain, you know the proper authorities to respond!"

Steph just stared at danny in shock as he pulled out a sharpie and wrote on the windows 'scarecrow gas inside, don't enter' before turning and leaving the platform. 'What the hell!' Was all she could think as She started calling babs.

“Ew,” the guy next to Tim cringes. He takes a whole step back from the street, even. “Oh, bad vibes. Don’t like.”

Even though the crossing indicator changes from “WAIT” to “WALK,” everyone nods, or groans, but seems to agree. As one they turn, heading back the way they came.

Those across the street see them, then look at the guy. They must see something Tim doesn’t, because they turn right around, too.

The indicator switches from “WALK” to a countdown, and the crossing stays clear.

“Um?” Tim starts.

Tam’s too busy going along with it, grabbing Tim’s arm and pulling him away. “Let’s go, this way.”

“What? Tam, why’re we going? The building’s, like, right there.” He gestures across the street, to emphasize the right there-ness of it. The Gotham in him says, “Don’t ask, just go,” but the detective in him insists he find out why. He needs an explanation.

“Can’t cross that,” she says, which is not an explanation. “We’ll have to go around the block instead. Walk fast, the meeting’s still in five.”

The man, who’s arbitrarily decided for an entire crowd of late Gothamites that foot traffic needed redirection, doesn’t seem to be getting himself outta the way of whatever he called. He stands there, lingering on the curb. His light eyes dart around the air like he’s looking for something. Or maybe like he’s seeing something.

Out of his mouth bleeds a trail of mist.

Tim’s own eyes narrow. “Tam?” he urges, feet planted.

Tam hesitates, then sighs.

“Right. You were out in San Fran the last two weeks. Listen, this dude,” she jerks her head in the direction of Volunteer Traffic Officer, “has been around a while. Maybe a few months, mostly sticks to the Narrows. His rep only started picking up a little ago, though. He’s got some crazy instincts. When he nopes out of a public space, it does everyone well to follow, now will you come on?”

Tim glances back. The guy doesn’t look like much, but Tim knows how looks can be deceiving. How does his power work? What kinds of threats does he pick up? What threat is he picking up now, at a random intersection, at one in the afternoon?

Tam’s voice drops to a pointed hiss. “If you wanna stick around and find out, that’s fine by me. But you should at least change suits first.”

Right. Right, okay. He’ll address the fact that there’s an open secret of a precognitive meta just wandering downtown Gotham later, he’ll address the fact that it’s already so normalized that nobody bothered to tell him when it’s safe. For now, he had to get Tam Fox, civilian, and Tim Drake, Wayne Foundation employee, out of the way.

I feel like if the big bad Bat wanted to talk with Danny, only after following him for several blocks

As soon as they are on his tail, he "hears" something and turns to look directly at their hiding place for half a minute. After no response he sighs and gets the attention of a mugger or two before promptly entering a dark alley and waiting

He'd wait for the whole mugging speal and then loudly announce

"Please go easy on the shorter one, he's desperate for money cause his mother is sick. Go ham on the other dude tho, he's already completed initiation for Two Face by killing someone, and is mugging to kill time till his boss next gets out."

(My own addition)

You know what would be funny? If the villains have no idea Danny exists. Cause like, he has a literal danger sense and just avoids any area targeted by them, their attacks, or their goons. So like, no villain ever comes in contact with Danny. All they know is that civilian casualties have significantly dropped. They might do research and find an online forum but they all use code names (memes) to communicate. (It’s like a neighborhood watch where people monitor the guy’s movements and report any areas he avoids. Basically, any place Danny is in currently is a garunteed safe spot.)

Amity park citizens and Gotham residents have “trust the magic ghost smoke” solidarity. Danny leaves class and the entire high school starts hiding. Danny says not to go to xx street? Deserted.

Helps that Danny never lies. For a long time he's pretty oblivious about people reacting to his behaviour, but once he notices he Never abuses it. He's not gonna cry wolf, no matter the reason. He wants people to be safe, and them trusting his judgement helps with that.

Ghosts Tell Me

~

Ghosts gather near the place where something bad is going to happen,

Danny with his ghost sense tends to notice before anyone else and tends to react outwardly before the danger even happens, gaining a reputation of seeing the future,

Ghosts also tell Danny things, causing Danny to know more about situations and the people around him, it comes of as suspicious.

~

Danny pulling away a snack from his coworker: "Careful your allergic to these ingredients!"

Coworker: "How the hell...I've never mentioned that to anyone."

~

Danny on a phone call with his friends while doing his nightly walks in Gotham: "Yeah so apparently the second Robin who is now Red Hood has very personal beef with the clown here cuz he got killed by him after being sold out by his bio mom, which really sucks for the poor guy."

Oracle who has been keeping an Eye on Danny cuz he's very suspicious from an outsiders pov: "Hey B, I think we have a problem."

~

Danny notices that the ghost in Gotham tends to gather where something bad is going to happen, the more they are the worse the situation will be: *glowing smoke leaves from his mouth* "Yikes! Very bad vibes here, nope!"

Gothamites who at this point recognize him and know the drill and quickly pack up their things to leave:

~

Just an Idea

[springtyme]

Hi! Syd smut requester here! Just saying thank you and I’m excited to see what you’ll do. I’m definitely happy to wait however long it takes lol. :)

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ♡

So, this took me forever to write, sorry about that (but better late than never, I hope 😅) Thank you for your patinece, and thank you so much for your request! I hope you like it 💕

Sydney Adamu x gn!reader || Masterlist || Sydney playlist

summary: Waking up next to your girlfriend is your favorite thing in the whole wide world. Eating her out is a close second though.

word count: 4.2k

warnigs: Smut! (18+, mdni!) Mentioning of food. Fluffy smut. Cunnilingus. Nipple play/sucking. Reader is a much.

You sink deeper into the plush pillows and mattress, the soft fabric molding around you like a warm embrace. Sunlight dances through the half-drawn curtains, casting gentle rays that warm your skin and illuminate the scattered remnants of last night — mugs of barely touched tea, a book left open on the bedside table, and a half-eaten blueberry muffin resting precariously on a napkin. It’s the kind of morning that wraps around you like a favorite blanket, comforting and forgiving. 

The world outside remains muffled, a gentle hum of distant traffic as Chicago bustles away outside, a soft reminder that life continues outside this little cocoon of comfort. You take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of chamomile and honeysuckle tea, mixing with the fresh linen laundry detergent and the mild, nutty scent of shea butter.

Sydney is nestled against you, her head resting on your shoulder, as you feel the rhythm of her breath match your own. You take a moment to admire her, how effortlessly beautiful she is, and how lucky you feel just to be here together. It’s so rare that you have a weekend like this, just the two of you, no plans and no restaurant obligations pulling her away. 

You shift slightly, careful not to disturb her, and watch as her lashes flutter gently against the soft skin under her eyes as the early morning light plays across her face. 

A stray eyelash has settled on her cheek, glimmering briefly in the sunlight like a tiny treasure. With a slow, gentle movement, you lean closer, your fingertips barely grazing her skin as you delicately brush it away, letting your fingers continue trailing lightly along her jawline, eliciting a quiet sigh of contentment from her lips.

You try to memorize this moment, capturing the essence of it in your mind’s eye. It’s as if time has paused, even if just for a heartbeat, allowing you to really see her — the way the morning light softens her features, the hint of a smile lingering at the corners of her lips as she dreams.

You lean in closer, you don’t want to wake her, but you can’t resist the urge to plant a soft kiss on the spot where the rogue eyelash sat just moments before. The warmth of your lips draws a soft smile from her, but she does not awaken. Instead, she nestles deeper into your shoulder, the satin of the scarf that’s protecting her braids glides against your cheek, feeling smooth and cool against your sleep-warmed skin. Her hand instinctively curls to find yours beneath the covers. 

You intertwine your fingers, cherishing the softness of her skin against yours. Lost in the tranquility of the moment, you contemplate the day ahead, hoping it can be as peaceful and unplanned as this morning has been. Before your thoughts can wander too far, you feel the gentle squeeze of her hand, her fingers tightening around yours as she slowly stirs awake. Her eyes flutter open, taking in the soft light and your face next to her. A smile spreads across her lips, transforming her sleepy expression into something radiant.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply, unable to suppress the joy bubbling up within you.

Sydney blinks a few times, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her like the fine mist of morning dew. You can see her brain waking up, processing the warmth of your body next to hers and the quiet sanctuary you’ve both created together. 

“I can’t remember the last time I slept so well,” she says, her voice a soft murmur, still finding its rhythm in the waking world. She lets out a satisfied sigh, eyes closing again for a fraction longer, as if she wants to hold onto this moment for as long as possible. 

“Me neither,” you reply, squeezing her hand gently. “It’s so nice to just… be.”

She hums in agreement, opening her eyes again to find yours. The two of you just lay like this for a few seconds, eyes locked as the soft light illuminates you both. 

“You’re so pretty. How are you so pretty this early in the morning?” Sydney mutters, a soft smile tugging at her lips and her eyes sparkling with affection. 

You chuckle quietly, feeling how your heart flutters at her compliment. “That’s rich coming from you,” you counter, leaning in closer, Sydney meeting you on the halfway. “Beautiful,” you mutter against her lips before pressing a tender kiss against them, soft and unhurried, savoring the taste of the last remnants of sleep on her mouth.

As you pull away, you see the lazy satisfaction in her eyes, a shared understanding that this moment is precious. “I could get used to this,” she says, a hint of a smile still tugging at her lips. She maneuvers to prop herself up on one elbow, glancing at the chaos of your shared space.

Her gaze lands on the remnants of the previous night — the book with its pages turned and the fruit-stained napkin with the forgotten muffin — and there’s a flash of remembrance in her eyes. “Do we have any eggs left?” she asks over her shoulder, her tone casual but filled with hope.

“Yeah, I believe so,” you reply. “You’re already planning breakfast?”

“Mhm, how does french toast with blueberry muffin crumble breading sound?”

“It sounds amazing.” you answer with a soft smile. You can’t help but be amused by her enthusiasm. “But remember it’s your day off, you don’t have to cook for my sake.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head as she rolls onto her back, looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds. “I know,” she says, before she rolls over on her side, propping her head on her hand as she gazes at you. “But cooking is one of my favorite ways to relax. Plus, I love sharing things with you. It makes it special.” 

Your heart swells at her words, warmed by the sincerity behind them. You flash a smile back at her, enjoying the way the sunlight highlights the contours of her face. “Then I’m all for it,” you reply playfully, scooting closer  to her, eager to steal another kiss, the warmth of her presence making it impossible to resist. “But I want to stay here for a little longer, if that’s okay with you.”    

“Absolutely,” she replies, her own smile widening as you lean in again, capturing her lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. Time seems to slow down again as you lose yourselves in the gentle rhythm of each other’s lips, the world beyond your little cocoon fading away like an afterthought. The kiss deepens, a soft affirmation of the love that stretches between you, wrapping you both in a bubble of warmth and familiarity. 

As you pull back just enough to catch your breath, you notice the shimmering light dancing in her dark eyes. They look like two small oceans at night, with the stars of the night sky reflected in their dark waves, igniting a fire within you. In this moment, the world outside feels more distant than ever; it’s just the two of you in this moment, the air suddenly thick with an unspoken anticipation. 

“I wish I could wake up like this every morning,” Sydney whispers, her voice a confession, drenched in a warmth that matches the sun streaming through the curtains. “But then I would never leave this bed.”

Her words hang in the air, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. After all, the way she looks at you—like you’re something sacred—makes your heart race. You can’t help but lean closer, enveloped in the warmth of her presence. 

“Maybe I don’t want french toast right now,” you murmur, your gaze flickering down to her lips. “Maybe I’d prefer a taste of something even sweeter first.”

A playful smile dances on Sydney’s lips as she meets your gaze, her eyes sparkling with mischief and delight. “Oh really? And now what could that be?” she teases, arching an eyebrow and shifting closer, her breath warm against your skin.

You can feel the electric energy pulsing between you, heightening the anticipation in the air. “I can think of a few things...” you reply softly, leaning in, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper before kissing her again this time with more of an urgency and hunger than before. 

Sydney responds eagerly, opening her mouth more so that you can deepen the kiss further, the warmth of her tongue mingling with yours as you moan into her mouth. You keep kissing her till you’re out of air, her lips too tempting and the small, sweet sighs and hums she makes too addictive.  

But you finally break the kiss and pull back slightly, catching her gaze as you both catch your breath, your lips tingling with the residual warmth of her mouth. “You know,” you say, your heart racing with excitement. “If we keep this up, breakfast might turn into brunch.”  

“Let it,” she whispers, her eyes sparkling as she leans in, brushing her lips against yours once more, a feather-light caress that sends another thrill down your spine. You can’t help but smile against the lingering touch.  

A shared laugh bubbles up between you, a soft interlude filled with warmth and affection, mixing with the lingering anticipation that hangs in the air. The sun continues to bathe the room in golden light, enhancing the intimacy of the moment even further. You close your eyes for a brief moment, letting the current between you both wash over you, its electric charge rekindling the heat beneath your skin. 

“We can also just have breakfast right here,” she whispers, her voice sultry, thick with promise.

The way she says it ignites a primal instinct in you, the playful challenge urging you forward into the sensual territory you both seem to gravitate toward. “Well,” you begin, locking your eyes with hers, “I like how that sounds.” 

You shift, propping yourself up a little, your body now hovering above hers,, feeling the warmth radiating from her body, the magnetic pull between you becoming impossible to resist. Her breath hitches, and you can almost feel the spark of excitement coursing through her.

Without much hesitation, you press your lips against hers again, this kiss slow and sweet, tasting of possibilities. She melts into you, curling her fingers around the back of your neck, urging you closer as she deepens the kiss, exploring your mouth with a languidness that sets your heart racing.

You pull back just enough to brush your noses against each other, gauging her reaction. The playful warmth in her eyes ignites a surge of confidence within you. “God, you’re beautiful... Please say I can eat you out, cause I can’t get enough of you,” you say, the words slipping out in a husky murmur, laced with a mix of innocence and desire.

“Who am I to say no to that,” she whispers teasingly, the playful, yet sultry, lilt to her voice making a rush of warmth spread from your core. You lean down to kiss her again, but this time trailing soft kisses from her lips down to her jawline. Her body responds instinctively; she arches slightly into your touch, inviting you to continue your exploration. Unable to resist, you trail continue the soft kisses along her jawline, down the delicate curve of her neck, licking and sucking at the delicate skin and continuing down to her collarbone. 

You sneak a hand under the hem of her tank top, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your fingertips. Sydney’s breath hitches as you continue your exploration, as your fingers brush up her abdomen until you let your hand rest against the bare skin of her waist. 

“Ca-can I take this off?” you ask against her skin, your voice a low whisper as you leave an open mouthed kiss at the curve of her collarbone. You feel the warmth of her skin beneath your lips, the softness inviting you to indulge further. 

“Please,” she breathes, her voice a mix of eagerness and anticipation. The simple word encourages you, igniting a fire within you that drives your desire forward.   

You pull back slightly to meet her gaze, searching for any hint of hesitation, but all you find is longing — a spark that reflects your own need for her. You gently lift the hem of her top, folding it up and over her head with deliberate slowness, savoring the way her skin glows in the sunlight as your fingertips brush against her sides.

Once her top is discarded, you can’t resist the urge to explore. You let your hands slide down her arms, tracing the contours of her shoulders before returning to her waist. Her skin feels electric beneath your touch, and your heart races at the thought of what’s to come.

“You’re so stunning,” you whisper, letting your eyes roam over her body, taking in each beautiful detail. The way her chest rises and falls with each breath captivates you. With a hungry gaze, you lean down to press soft kisses along the delicate line of her collarbone and down toward her chest. You can feel her heart quicken beneath your lips, and it only fuels your desire further. You take your time, savoring every inch, indulging in the warmth and softness of her body.

“Don’t tease,” she murmurs breathily, a playful smirk dancing on her lips, but the eagerness in her voice betrays her true feelings.

“I’m just getting started,” you reply with a teasing glint in your eye, your lips brushing against her skin, exploring slowly and deliberately. You can feel the heat radiating from her, a warm invitation that pulls you in deeper.

Your mouth continues its journey, trailing a path of gentle kisses down the valley of her chest, savoring the smoothness of her skin. You let your lips drift lower, pausing just above the swell of her breasts. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, and you can feel her breath hitch in response, her body instinctively arching closer to you.

“Please,” she whispers again, her voice tinged with a mix of longing and urgency that sends a thrill down your spine. It’s a soft plea, inviting, yet laced with the desire for more. You can’t hold back the smile that plays on your lips at her eagerness.

“Only if you promise to let me know how it feels,” you murmur, casting her a playful glance as you cradle one of her breasts delicately in your hand. You tilt your head down, letting your warm breath ghost over her, teasingly close but not quite touching. 

Her soft whimper compels you to proceed. You finally let your lips wrap around her nipple, swirling your tongue gently, testing the waters. Sydney gasps, her back arching into you as you begin to suck softly, swirling your tongue around the sensitive peak.

“Just like that… oh, fuck,” she moans, her voice thick with pleasure, which fills you with a sense of satisfaction and encouragement. You increase the pressure slightly, alternating between gentle kisses and more fervent sucks, your mouth moving in a rhythm that seems to echo the rising heat growing between you both.

You switch to her other breast, giving it the same devotion, gently teasing and sucking, coaxing out soft moans that send ripples of delight through you. Your hands roam freely, caressing her body, savoring each curve, while your mouth finds a rhythm that drives her wild.

With every flick of your tongue, you feel her breath quickening, her fingers curling into the sheets beside her as if grounding herself against the waves of sensation you’re eliciting. You can hear her soft cries, each one mixing with the sound of your racing heart.

You pull away just enough to catch her gaze, breathless and eager. “Do you want more?” you tease, licking your lips to catch the taste of her skin lingering on your tongue. Your voice is low, sultry, drawing her into the heat of the moment.

“Please, yes,” she responds, almost pleading, the desire in her eyes making your pulse race. You notice how her body responds to your every touch, how her breath catches in her throat, and it only fuels your need for her even more. 

“Okay,” you murmur, a grin spreading across your face as you lower your lips back down to her chest, planting gentle kisses down the valley of her breasts. A soft gasp escapes her lips; the sound sends an excited thrill through your body. You look up at her, her eyes wide with anticipation and a hint of impatience that stirs something primal within you.

You enjoy the way she writhes beneath you, the soft fabric of the sheets crumpling beneath her as her body responds instinctively to your touch. Each gentle kiss sends flutters of longing coursing through both of you, intensifying the intimate dance you’re engaged in as you take your time with her.

“Just relax,” you murmur, your lips brushing her skin as you continue your exploration, your mouth traveling lower, trailing kisses down her stomach, feeling her muscles tighten as you tease her. She arches her back slightly, pushing against you as if to draw you closer, her breath full of both pleading and encouragement. 

“You fucking tease…” she breathes, her voice both a challenge and an invitation, the edge of urgency in her voice tinged with a playful tone. 

You smirk against her skin, taking delight in the way her body responds to you as you finally reach the waistband of her sleep shorts. You look up at her, her pretty eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and impatience, silently urging you to continue.

Without breaking eye contact, you slide your fingers beneath the elastic of her sleep shorts, brushing over the smooth skin just above the waistband. She shivers slightly at your touch, her breath hitching with anticipation. “Want me to get these off you?” you ask, your voice low and just above a whisper.

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice thick with longing and eagerness. The warmth in her gaze is electrifying, pushing you onward, urging you to move forward. There’s no hesitation now; the air is electrified, and you feel her eagerness spilling over, igniting your own.

With deliberate slowness, your fingers loop beneath the elastic of her shorts and underwear, inching the garments down until they slip away entirely. Her breath hitches again, a soft gasp of air igniting your senses as you behold her in all her beauty before you.

Unable to resist the temptation, you lean in closer, pressing your lips against her inner thighs, exploring every inch of skin with soft, lingering kisses. The taste of her skin is intoxicating, savory and warm against your tongue. Every touch fuels the connection between you two, an intimacy that feels almost sacred.

“I love how you touch me,” she murmurs, her voice a breathless whisper laced with anticipation. Your heart swells at her words, thrilled by your ability to affect her so deeply.

You can’t help but glance up, meeting her gaze, the warmth of her body melting you. “Just wait, I can do much better than this,” you tease, your breath brushing along her sensitive skin, leaving her trembling in anticipation, a spark that sets her aflame.

With another teasing kiss, you lower down further, your lips trailing along her slick heat. You savor the momentary pause before diving deeper, your tongue swirling through the delicate, wet folds, tasting the essence of her arousal.

“Fu-uuck…” A gasp escapes her lips, a sweet sound that drives you even further into the depths of your desire. Her body arching into every gentle caress you bestow upon her. You find a rhythm, the combination of soft flicks and teasing licks drawing gasps and whimpers from her. You savor the sounds, each moan feeding the fire igniting between you both.   

You explore her softness, the heat radiating between you two palpable, each flick of your tongue drawing her closer to the precipice of bliss.

“Y-yes, just like that,” she breathes, her voice thick with pleasure. You can only nod, fueled by her words, urging yourself to pour everything you have into her pleasure. 

You hum softly against her, the vibrations sending a delicious tremor through her body. Each hum blends seamlessly with her gasps and moans. The sweet taste of her is so intoxicating, urging you on. You love how you can feel her muscles tightening beneath you, the way her body instinctively responds to your every touch

“Fuuuck… just like that... don’t stop,” she encourages, her words a sweet mantra urging you forward. You delight in her response, feeling primal satisfaction at the way you can evoke such pleasure within her.

You lock onto her clit, swirling your tongue slowly but firmly, alternating between gentle flicks and tantalizing pressure. She buckles beneath your touch, her breath quickening as you coax her closer to the edge.

“Please, please, don’t stop, it’s so good,” Sydney begs, her voice shaky, every syllable laced with longing, a plea that sends waves of gratification rushing through you. The sincerity of her words fuels your desire, compelling you to intensify your ministrations, pulling her closer to that brink.

“Never,” you murmur against her, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through both of you. Your resolve only strengthens as her body begins to tremble, her breath becoming ragged, the delicious tension building between you.

Lost in the moment, you can feel the world outside fading away, the cacophony of life becoming insignificant—too small and unimportant to even be considered. And why would you? Your axis mundi is right here; the intoxicating connection between your bodies becomes the center of your universe. The bed cradles you both in warmth and intimacy, leaving nothing but sweetness and longing in its wake. All that exists is this moment, this shared sanctuary between the two of you.

With each flick of your tongue, she edges closer to release, body arching against you with fervor. You wrap your arms around her thighs, holding her steady, carving away every ounce of doubt as waves of pleasure wash over her.

“Right there… Fuck, I’m so close…” she gasps, voice laced with urgency as her words tumble from her lips. The sincerity of her plea drives you further, and you increase your pace with a greedy hunger, creating a rhythm that matches the frantic beating of your heart, so, so desperate to feel her come apart on your tongue as you sense the thrill of her nearing peak. 

“That’s it,” you encourage, your breath warm against her weeping cunt. “Let go for me. Please, baby, need you to come for me.” Each word drips with anticipation, pulling her closer to that explosive moment she craves as you bury your face deeper, the taste of her driving you wild. The sweetness of her release is all you crave now, and you can feel the energy between you crackling like a live wire, building momentum with every deliberate movement as her body quakes beneath you.

With your plea, she tips over the edge. A gasp spills from her lips, flooding the room with sweet music as her body arches and trembles with pleasure. The sounds she makes ignite something intrinsic and raw within you as she falls apart against your tongue, and an intoxicating sense of satisfaction fills you as you feel the warmth of her body shudder in rapture.

You keep lapping into her until the waves of ecstasy begin to subside, relishing in the aftershocks that ripple through her. You gently ease back, panting slightly as you catch your breath, kissing her tenderly on her inner thighs, tracing soft lines of affection where moments ago there was fervent urgency.

Sydney’s breath is still coming in quick bursts, her body relaxing into the sheets as the intensity of her release settles into a warm glow of satisfaction. You can’t help but admire the way she looks at that moment—an aura of bliss enveloping her, eyes reflecting blissful haze, glimmering with a mixture of vulnerability and delight. It’s as if she has been kissed by light, and you feel your heart swell with tenderness. It’s a sight that sends warmth coursing through your veins, captivating you entirely. You want to cherish this moment, to imprint it in your mind and carry it with you forever.

As she slowly comes down from that dizzying height, you lift your head to gaze at her, cherishing the glow of ecstasy shimmering in her eyes. “Seemed like you enjoyed that,” you tease, planting another line of soft kisses along her thighs, still indulging in the rich warmth of the moment.

“Enjoyed? That’s an understatement,” Sydney laughs breathlessly, the sound wrapping around you like a loving embrace. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No, we are,” you reply, meeting her gaze as you pull up beside her, the warmth of your bodies radiating against one another. “Together.”

“Sure, together…” she agrees, brushing your cheek gently with the backside of her hand, her touch sending an electric thrill through you before pressing her lips to yours. “I love you,” she whispers against your mouth, her voice steady and sincere, sending a rush of warmth through your entire being.

“I love you too,” you reply, every word laced with truth as you kiss her softly, savoring the taste of her lips mixing with the taste of her arousal that still lingers on your own lips.

[vilandel]

Black Clover Modern AU

I finished the prologue of my Modern AU multi-chapter story! I'm so excited to finally post it later today 💘

The title is Morning Mist & Night Traffic and the first chapter is already in the works as well. Thank you everyone who voted on the polls and for helping me to get this blurry idea finally out of the fog of my mind.

Summary Within the prosperous city of Clover, be it rich or poor, everyone has their own issues to deal with, but not always it goes as planned. Especially when modernity clashes with some remaining close-minded traditions that has nothing to do anymore with today.

Nozel never really moved on from a tragedy years ago that left him becoming an adult at fourteen, but a young woman named Vanessa starts to heal a wound that had been invisible. Without realizing he started to heal her own wound as well.

Noelle has decided to move on from her crush about her classmate Asta, who is too terribly dense to realize what she truly felt for him. But it is easier said than done.

Since Charlotte became independent from her traditional family and took custody for her younger half-brother Luck, one can say that she is quite happy with work, free time and family life. But she could never forget her love for her old classmate, Yami Sukehiro.

Meanwhile, Fuegoleon and Lital are in a happy relationship for a decade. Too bad that the rich society in Clover is more medieval when it comes to relationships and marriage. Since Fuegoleon is from one of the three richest family and business in Clover, while Lital has roots from the slums. But both are determined to make a change about that.

[wurds-fur-nurds]

The Tapestry of Eclectic

In the mosaic of existence, each fragment sings its own song, woven together in a dance of contrast and harmony, diverse threads converging in a tapestry of the eclectic.

Here, the solemn oak whispers to the gleaming skyscraper, their stories interwoven like roots and steel, an ode to the varied tones of human endeavor.

Beneath the canopy of night, the stars cast their ancient light, each one a solitary voice in the vast, uncharted choir. They sing not in unison, but in a symphony of difference, an eclectic melody that cradles the universe.

Through the streets of the city, a thousand lives intersect, each one a unique note in the grand opus of existence. The painter, the poet, the architect, all craftsfolk of divergent dreams, their passions an eclectic brushstroke on the canvas of humanity.

In the quiet moments, we find the heart of the eclectic, a mosaic of thoughts and feelings, each piece distinct, yet part of a greater whole. It is here, in the spaces between, that we glimpse the profound beauty of our varied existence.

The eclectic is the songbird’s call echoing through the morning mist, the laughter of children mingling with the hum of traffic, a vibrant, chaotic harmony that pulses with life.

Embrace the eclectic, for it is the essence of creation, the fertile ground where innovation blooms, a testament to the boundless potential of the human spirit.

In this dance of differences, we find unity, not in sameness, but in the celebration of our myriad ways of being, each thread a vital part of the ever-evolving tapestry, forever eclectic.

[howyoutalktostrangers]

So,

No matter where you are in Victoria, you’re never a significant distance from the immensity of the Pacific Ocean — you can hear the subtle hiss of the tide on the wind, taste the salty moisture in the air, and sometimes when the mists roll in thick enough you can truly feel lost, surrounded by white oblivion.

The fog was thick-packed cotton the night before I moved across the province. I’d taken a position at a rural newspaper called the Nelson Star, ten hours away. Looming sheets of white were impaled by the twisted black branches of scraggly Garry Oak trees and the jutting gables of sleepy homes as I passed by them, a hooded apparition in the night.

My soundscape was the quiet hum of streetlights and the distant swish of traffic bombing out towards the Patricia Bay Highway. The past few nights I hadn’t been able to sleep, anticipating the upcoming life pivot, so I’d been going for longer and longer night walks to sort out my headspace. It felt like being in an altered state of consciousness, outside of time, like wandering into a dream sequence.

It was just after 10 p.m. and I had my puppy Muppet’s leash wrapped tightly in one fist while I scuffed my way down the suburban streets in my slippers and sweatpants, taking in everything I was preparing to leave behind. I passed moss-slimed boulders surrounded by bobbing sword ferns, a nature preserve called Christmas Hill hidden up a hilly side street, and carefully manicured lawns amidst Narnian foliage.

Muppet was a shih-tzu maltese, a nervous and demonstrative little creature, and had become my daughter in the months since I’d purchased her from a small farm on one of the Gulf Islands. It felt like having a familiar, like she was channeling my energy. She strained at the leash curiously, unbothered by the deepening gloom, nosing her way through the dew-slicked grass.

I’d never loved living anywhere like I loved living in Victoria — there was some sort of vital spiritual connection there, a youthful energy — but lately I’d been feeling stifled and wasted and trapped. A few weeks earlier I’d wrapped up a book publishing internship that hadn’t turned out like I wanted. For a while I’d been contemplating a move to Toronto to pursue a Master’s in journalism, but at the last moment I’d taken the risk of applying for a position at the Star, out in a mysterious and romantic region called the Kootenays. I figured why go to school if I could just have a job now?

Now everything was packed, and in the morning a new era of my life would begin. I felt desperate to make progress with my career, to publish a book, to turn myself into a literary professional. I’d wasted too much time miserable in my basement suite, arguing with my girlfriend Paisley and consuming copious amounts of cannabis. Every day I felt an insistent sense of dread, this fear that I was somehow missing out on the life I was supposed to be living somewhere else.

Then there was the writing. For years I’d been laser-focused on publishing my first book, but I wasn’t making much progress with the thesis manuscript that I envisioned as my ticket to literary infamy. The working title was Whatever You’re On, I Want Some, and it was a collection of interconnected stories that came together as part of a larger narrative — not unlike A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan, my favourite novel. My narrative was about addiction and grief and sexual abuse, but mostly it was about the God-shaped hole inside of us all that yearns for some sort of spirituality, for catharsis, for deliverance from the banality of existence.

It was a topic that had haunted me since I’d lost my faith as a teenager.

“I want something else,” I sang to myself, muttering the words to my favourite Third Eye Blind karaoke song. “To get me through this, semi-charmed kind of life.”

The sloping entrance to Spencer’s apartment complex was lined with medieval-looking stone walls, leading up to a parking lot plateau framed by bright orange arbutus trees. Muppet was sauntering lackadaisically now, familiar with her surroundings, and sat patiently while I hit the buzzer. Spencer tolerated my canine minion in his house, but just barely, so she had to be on her best behaviour.

While I waited I gazed up at the night sky, wondering if my relationship with Spencer would be a casualty of my ambition. He was my best friend and my closest confidante, but I simply couldn’t live in Victoria any longer. It felt like life was full of these impossible choices, where you can never receive something with out first giving something up.

“Sorry dude, the buzzer’s fucked,” Spencer said, swinging open the front door in a swirling robe. He was like Julian in Trailer Park Boys, clutching a half-finished drink in one hand, and I could tell he was already stoned. He held the door for us, and gave me a welcoming thump on the shoulder.

“So you’re on the road tomorrow,” he said.

“Catching the first ferry. I’ve got like ten hours of driving to do.”

“How do you think Muppet’s going to handle that?”

“Ah, I’ll stop for walks and stuff. She’ll be fine. It’ll be an adventure, right?”

“I hate to rain on your parade, but that little dog is going to shit and puke all over your car. Just saying.”

Spencer swung open the door to his apartment, and like always we were greeted with a mysterious painting of an elderly warrior in an ornate golden helmet. He’d inherited this piece from his grandfather — nobody else wanted it — and something about it was unsettling. It wasn’t that its eyes were watching you, it was something more subtle than that. I think that’s why Spencer liked it, because it drew a sort of baffled attention, it wasn’t an ordinary thing to put on your wall.

Was he the suffering soldier, battle-scarred and staring into the middle distance? Or did it symbolize something else to him, something I didn’t understand?

After pouring me a quick drink in his sparse kitchen, Spencer led me and Muppet out to his back porch. We were on the ground floor, slightly below the lawn, so that when we sat smoking it felt like we were in some subterranean lair. We watched the sprinklers while passing a joint back and forth, gossiping sometimes but more often talking endlessly about movies and TV.

I was here at least once a week, on Sundays, to catch the latest episode of Boardwalk Empire. Starring Steve Buscemi, it was a lavish gangster epic set in 1920s Atlantic City. I found that particular era fascinating, because of Prohibition and the rise of organized crime bosses like Lucky Luciano and Al Capone.

But the true reason we devoted this much time and attention to television was because we both had the same dream of someday working in the entertainment industry. He’d been to film school, and had even directed a short student film starring our friends, but he’d become disillusioned and bitter after dropping out due to financial reasons. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still holding out hope that someday it would happen for him, that he’d find a way in, that he’d be able to escape the 9-5 life.

I could tell that he was jealous of my journalistic adventures, but he wasn’t willing to risk the financial instability that would come with making an equally bold choice for his life.

“So you’re going to be writing about the arts?” he asked, once we were settled into camping chairs. “Like concerts and movies and shit?”

“I’ll be doing a bit of everything, they say. Even sports.”

“Sports? But you hate sports.”

“It’s all the same, man. You just ask questions, get the answers, then write them down.”

He laughed, handing me his pipe. “But you literally know nothing about sports!”

“I don’t know anything about this town either. But I’ll learn.”

Spencer and I had already discussed how this opportunity would like watching the real life version of all five seasons of The Wire, a show about urban Baltimore that explored the intricacies of the drug trade and the institutions that run the city. Nelson would become my Baltimore, and then I’d populate it with a cast of characters. The amazing thing was I wouldn’t have to invent anything, because they really existed!

I wondered if I could write a book like Never Shoot a Stampede Queen by Mark Leiren-Young, an award-winning memoir about working at a paper in Williams Lake. I knew from my time working at the Whitehorse Star that this was the type of job that gave you access to places and people you would never have otherwise. I didn’t care that it was a rinky dink publication in a small Canadian town — I was going to act as if I was working for the New York Times.

“So what’s going to happen with Paisley?” Spencer asked. “She still coming?”

“I’m going up first. Then she’s flying a couple days after.”

“Separate.”

“Yeah, she needed more time to pack. Her Mom’s helping her.”

Spencer jutted out his lip thoughtfully before taking another puff. He was being as diplomatic as possible. He’d made no secret of the fact he disapproved of Paisley and thought she was ruining my life. Part of it was territorial, just him looking out for his best friend, but there was part of it was entirely justified. I was compromising myself for this woman, destroying myself even, but it was like being addicted to a drug. I couldn’t imagine a life sober of her, no matter how histrionic and destructive she got.

She was a vegan rich girl from Calgary, devastatingly beautiful, but on the opposite side of the spectrum socially and politically. We were proud of ourselves for the the little family we’d created, and the adventures we’d had all over the Yukon and Nova Scotia, but the end of our relationship somehow felt both inevitable and unattainable.

“What’s she going to do there? You know yet?”

“She’s been talking about starting a little dessert business. She makes these treats.”

“And are they disgusting?”

I laughed. “No dude, they’re okay.”

Once we headed back inside, Spencer fiddled with his projector for a moment before starting the latest episode of Boardwalk Empire. It was a familiar ritual, one I would miss. He was wearing slippers and baggy pajama bottoms, his feet propped on the coffee table while he dug into a takeout box of Chinese food.

Over the years my family had started referring to Spencer as my wife, which felt apt, because there was an intimacy between us that transcended normal friendship. I considered him a member of my family, but I was getting used to the feeling of leaving my family behind. As the action flashed across his living room wall I watched the colours dance on his face. He looked like a little kid.

The episode revolved around Richard Harrow, a World War I sniper missing half of his face. Played by Angelica Huston’s son with a mask similar to the one in Phantom of the Opera, he is a simple and loyal man capable of extraordinary violence. In an earlier episode he’d wiped out a hotel’s worth of gangsters in a blood-spattering shootout, but in this episode he was facing an even more daunting enemy: his own mind.

We watched as he trekked into the woods with a shotgun to commit suicide.

“You think he’s going to do it?”

Spencer shook his head, chewing. “They wouldn’t waste a main character like that. We’re in the middle of the season.”

“A lot of war veterans commit suicide,” I said.

“Not Richard Harrow.”

At the end of the night, I hesitated in his doorway while I struggled to get Muppet’s leash back on. She wagged her tail and squirmed out of my grasp, probably desperate for a pee. Spencer was leaning against the doorframe with a fresh drink, his eyes pink. He’d already told me that he would visit in the Kootenays, possibly in the next few months, so it wasn’t like I was never going to see him again.

We gave each other an awkward half-hug, then I began back-stepping down the hallway.

“Paisley’s going to decapitate me if I stay out much later,” I said.

He smirked, like he was leaving me to my fate.

“Drive safe, dude.”

The Literary Goon

[lishika-holidays]

Exploring Coorg in 48 Hours: A Perfect Weekend Itinerary from Bangalore

Are you yearning for a quick getaway from the hustle and bustle of Bangalore? Look no further than the serene hills and lush landscapes of Coorg, just a few hours' drive away. With its misty mountains, sprawling coffee plantations, and cascading waterfalls, Coorg offers the perfect escape for a rejuvenating weekend retreat. To help you make the most of your limited time, here's a carefully crafted itinerary to explore the best of Coorg in just 48 hours.

Morning: Departure from BangaloreKickstart your Coorg adventure by leaving Bangalore early in the morning to beat the traffic. The approximately 5-hour drive is scenic, offering glimpses of Karnataka's countryside as you make your way towards the hills. Late Morning: Arrival and Check-inArrive in Coorg around late morning and check into your chosen accommodation. Whether you prefer a cozy homestay amidst the coffee estates or a luxurious resort with panoramic views, Coorg has options to suit every taste and budget. Afternoon: Visit Talakaveri and BhagamandalaAfter a quick refreshment, head towards Talakaveri, the birthplace of River Cauvery, nestled amidst the Brahmagiri hills. Take in the breathtaking views of the surrounding valleys and offer prayers at the temple. Next, proceed to Bhagamandala, where the Cauvery River is joined by the Kannike and Sujyoti rivers, forming a sacred confluence. Explore the ancient temples and soak in the spiritual ambiance of the place. Evening: Sunset at Raja's SeatAs the day winds down, make your way to Raja's Seat, a popular sunset point in Coorg. Situated atop a hill, Raja's Seat offers panoramic views of the surrounding valleys and is the perfect spot to witness a mesmerizing sunset. Spend some time unwinding amidst the beautifully landscaped gardens before heading back to your accommodation for the night.

Morning: Adventure at Dubare Elephant CampStart your second day in Coorg with an unforgettable experience at Dubare Elephant Camp. Located on the banks of the Cauvery River, this camp offers visitors a chance to get up close and personal with gentle giants. Participate in activities like elephant bathing, feeding, and even elephant rides, all while learning about the majestic creatures and their conservation. Midday: Indulge in Local CuisineAfter your elephant encounter, treat your taste buds to some authentic Coorgi cuisine. Head to a local eatery or ask your accommodation for recommendations on where to savor traditional dishes like pandi curry (pork curry), kadambuttu (rice dumplings), and bamboo shoot curry. Don't forget to wash it down with a steaming cup of Coorgi coffee, renowned for its rich flavor and aroma. Afternoon: Explore Abbey FallsWith your hunger satiated, embark on a scenic drive to Abbey Falls, one of Coorg's most iconic attractions. Hidden amidst lush greenery, the waterfall cascades from a height of about 70 feet, creating a mesmerizing spectacle. Take a short hike through the dense foliage to reach the viewing platform and witness the sheer power and beauty of Abbey Falls up close. Late Afternoon: Leisure Time at Lishika HolidaysIn the midst of your exploration, take a break and indulge in the hospitality of Lishika Holidays. As passionate experts in crafting unforgettable travel experiences, Lishika Holidays invites you to unwind and recharge amidst their tranquil surroundings. Whether you choose to relax by the poolside, indulge in a spa treatment, or simply soak in the natural beauty of Coorg from their premises, let Lishika Holidays be your sanctuary of serenity. Evening: Sunset at MandalpattiFor a grand finale to your Coorg escapade, venture to Mandalpatti for a breathtaking sunset experience. Perched at an altitude of over 4,000 feet, Mandalpatti offers panoramic views of the mist-covered hills and valleys below. Trek up to the viewpoint or opt for a jeep ride for a thrilling journey through rugged terrain. As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you'll be treated to a spectacle that's nothing short of magical. Night: Return to BangaloreWith hearts full of memories and cameras filled with picturesque snapshots, it's time to bid farewell to Coorg and head back to Bangalore. The drive back is the perfect opportunity to reflect on the beauty and tranquility of Coorg, leaving you with a renewed sense of energy and longing for your next adventure. In just 48 hours, you've experienced the best of what Coorg has to offer – from its natural wonders to its rich cultural heritage. So, the next time you're craving a quick escape from the city, pack your bags and set off on a journey to the enchanting hills of Coorg for a weekend filled with adventure, relaxation, and unforgettable experiences.

Read for more info: https://sites.google.com/view/coorg-from-bangalore/home

[alchemisland]

Emergence From Mist

Arcuate hill-round above brineless sea station of observation, 

Broken glass prayer at dockside pillar to Zeus of Disembarkation.

Against Kapok trunk party’s scribbling cartographer leans back 

Striated, flesh feeling, some give; shoulder sinks imperceptible inch as into wet moss

No dizzying ninemileround testaments Kahn’s maths

Same of His dreams, of sinuous rilles

Midway maybe where domes float

Sun unbuttoned the morning coat

Steep ridges like mole’s traffic spanning the boiling basin

Bidden by their wind, windless and winding they trace terran sutures

Like coal seams 

Months to years and turgid time moving with pooled honey’s alacritous pace

Woman’s touch

Like gold seems.

Birds flew from the mist’d orb, as if had animated them

The mist web spun from frame to frame hid every inch of forest

Tree’s celebrating out of its recession

Mist reducing like salted snow, revealing tin-tight sentinels thousands

Whooping gibbons take throne on palm frond ribbons

Yon mist’s night advance routed by royal-seeming morning, ermine clad 

Midnight hands feeling their way, hid night away in deeper night

Braying, baying and bee hums glade thrums, men in pairs saying nothing

Jungle corral 

Deep therein dum dum dum tom drums hidden Schönbrunn

Days marching the total immensity of this vernal eternal, the worried Colonel unfurling like cat-clawed stringball

Millions of buried buildings, surreality hyperreality boreality

Eagles claw-trawl second sea of robing mist, fistful of screaming rodents of which we are jealous

Our zealous Capitan unflapped vows neither disaster nor disease will supplant him

Misfortune of Masculintellect

Sharp tarot fan of unsheathed bromeliads.