#especially in one i moderate rip

[koldunia]

.

[puke-ur-gutz]

i ♡ going into verbose over-explaining mode in fear of being misinterpreted and then being misinterpreted anyways

[krakensdottir]

A scene I wanted to address, because I think we need to, because there is some understandable concern over this.

So, Aziraphale's first taste of human food... he goes pretty nuts. He eats it as fast as he can get it down. He can barely stop to breathe. And I can see why that evokes the Greedy Fat Person trope for some.

Given that Gaiman is no fan of fatphobia, I'm pretty sure that's not the intent. But I won't lean on that. I'll go further, and explain what that scene evoked for me, and see if it makes sense to anyone else.

(To preface, I'm a fat person with blood sugar problems who DOES eat like a starving animal and has 0 shame about it. So I'm not just Not Seeing It because of skinny privilege etc. To get that out of the way.)

So first off, of course, it's his first EVER attempt at eating human food. The absolute lack of moderation could be explained by that alone. But I think it's significant that it's specifically meat.

Those who are familiar with the Old Testament know what I mean when I say that God is carnivorous. It's the entire reason he was a bitch to Cain and not to Abel. The Abrahamic god was one of many at the time that accepted burnt animal offerings, before later revisions attempted to wave that away because oops, it sounds too pagan. Flesh of livestock was a common and expected offering, and burning it assured that the smell and smoke and 'essence' would rise to the heavens.

With that in mind, consider what the taste of meat would do to an angel. What it might awaken in them, the first of God's creations?

Maybe it's the monster-lover in me, but I didn't see a fat man gobbling food. I saw an inhuman ancient entity of immense power that only disguises itself as a man, briefly succumbing to a primal and Earthly urge. It wasn't comical to me. It was almost frightening, in a very intentional way. Rarely do we see through the human guise in this series, see just how eldritch these ethereal beings really are, especially Aziraphale. But here he is, ripping almost uncontrollably into the flesh of another life-form with ominous music and thunder overlying the whole scene, and a demon staring at him with intense satisfaction and fascination throughout.

That's what I took from it. If I had to guess, I'd say that's closer to the intent. Again, partly from knowing the author, but also from the way the scene is shot. We're watching an angel partake in literal pleasures of the flesh for the first time, taking formerly living matter into his body. I can totally vibe with Crowley's reaction, tbh.

[dragonheartstring360]

Some notes for anyone writing a character with glasses, from someone who wears glasses everyday:

- glasses need to come off before changing a shirt, unless it has a really big collar. Otherwise, glasses will get ripped off by said shirt collar.

- weather will affect how well you can see out of them, especially rain. Raindrops will dot glasses and it’s like trying to drive a car in the rain without working windshield wipers. Snow sometimes does this too, but not as bad, and lots of dust kicking up will make glasses dirty and foggy. If it’s humid enough (talking like swampy, Deep South levels, weather app says “90-100% humidity”), glasses will fog up when you step outside. If it’s crazy windy, glasses can fly off and the character should hold onto them or take them off and put them somewhere safe. They’ll usually get dirty or break in a pants pocket, so maybe have character carry around a sturdy glasses case if needed.

- not all materials are good for wiping glasses off. Some shirt materials just make it worse.

- if your character’s glasses are super dirty or smudged, they will be able to see it 24/7 as they look around and it’s annoying af.

- although glasses can keep things from getting in a character’s eyes (like something that’s been sprayed), it doesn’t protect our eyes all the time, especially if it’s coming at an angle or there’s a large amount. For that, you’d need actual safety glasses or goggles (and yes, they do make prescription goggles, but they’re not cheap).

- speaking of waves, for the love of god, DO NOT have your character swim with their glasses on. At best, they’ll get wet and they won’t be able to see. At worst, if they’re forced underwater or an ocean wave smacks them in the face, they’ll fly off and/or break.

- a crack in glasses is actually annoying af and makes it very hard to see.

- if a character’s face is wet, like from sweat or a ton of rain, their glasses will continuously slide down their nose and they’ll need to keep pushing them back up.

- lots of liquids other than water will make glasses opaque.

- glasses should be fitted pretty well to a person’s head. So if the character’s face is dry or there’s a moderate amount of wind, the “legs” that go behind their ears should be tight enough that they don’t just constantly fly off or slip down their nose. If they do, they’re too big (but obviously something a tornado will make them fly off).

- although I hate the whole “they took off their glasses and now they’re a ✨ model ✨” trope, people do tend to look very different with glasses on vs off - especially a character like Harry Potter who constantly wears their glasses. It’s not unrealistic that people who don’t know the character well (or even those who do, but just aren’t as quick) won’t recognize them at first without their glasses.

- as far as I know (correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve never been able to do this), if a lens pops out of the frames, it can’t be popped back in by non-professionals without the right tools. The glasses are just done for.

- if your character has contacts in (or this is a psa for anyone who wears contacts), DO NOT have them rub their eyes. The contact will pop out and they’re very translucent and tiny, so trust me, it will just fall and be lost forever.

- being able to see clearly out of one eye and not the other (like with a broken/missing lens or a contact falling out) causes headaches.

- glasses are expensive af in the US (idk about other places). One time when I didn’t have vision insurance, an eye exam and two frames with lenses (I have blue eyes and very extreme light sensitivity, so have to have prescription sun glasses as well as regular glasses) cost over $900USD. If you want the special frames that become tinted and basically turn into sunglasses when you walk outside, it will cost extra.

- speaking of those lenses that become tinted when you walk outside, they take awhile to fade back to normal after you go back inside. Your character needs to be prepared to still be “wearing” sunglasses for the first 5-10 minutes after they walk inside.

- if a character is wearing contacts, they can wear normal sunglasses. If not, they’ll need special prescription sunglasses to be able to see. You cannot wear prescription sunglasses with contacts in or you won’t be able to see anything. Ever tried to look through your friend’s glasses and everything’s weird and warped and giving you a headache? That’s what it will look like.

- not exactly glasses related, but people with lighter colored eyes will always have worse light sensitivity than people with darker eyes. I have very blue eyes and looking up at the sky on a sunny day will literally make me see stars, and especially if I’m driving towards the sun while it’s setting, I have to have my sunglasses on or I literally will not be able to see and tears will be leaking out my eyes the whole way home.

- speaking of prescription sunglasses, unless your character can see pretty far without their glasses or they’re far sighted, you cannot just take prescription sunglasses off and still be able to see, especially while driving. You just have to deal with it and keep the sunglasses on and look like a Matrix wannabe if it gets cloudy or starts raining, or you have to do the super speedy Dance of Death where you’re still watching the road in front of you, taking off one pair of glasses and putting the other on super fast (which usually requires you to use your mouth to open and close things).

- GLASSES ARE FRAGILE. Seriously, a very petite person could sit in them and snap them in half. They’re not something you want your character just throwing around.

- there are varying levels of how well someone can see. There’s farsightedness and nearsightedness. Some people don’t have that much trouble and can see pretty far, so only wear their glasses as needed. But some people (aka moi) can genuinely only see a few inches in front of their face. Like if I ever lost my glasses or they broke, I’d be done for. I wouldn’t be able to work or drive or do anything around the house.

- glasses need to be replaced about once a year because of possible prescription changes or sometimes lenses losing their strength and becoming harder to see through. Trying to tough it out after long enough will give your character headaches/migraines and sore eyes from eye strain.

- some mascaras (especially thick ones) will smudge glasses when the character blinks. Same with false lashes (although they’ll brush instead of smudge). Usually less intense mascaras and shorter fake lash lengths are better.

- eye makeup is harder to see with glasses on.

- please, please, PLEASE stop using the whole “omg look how much prettier/more attractive they are without their glasses” trope. Not everyone’s eyes can handle contacts and some people prefer wearing their glasses. And it makes those of us who prefer glasses or have to wear them feel like shit, especially because there aren’t a lot of characters with glasses in media who don’t become the butt of a joke (ie the one wearing glasses is the “ugly duckling” for it like in princess diaries, or like Velma from scooby doo always losing them and patting around, or people who wear glasses will always be some sort of dorky/insufferable know it all).

- glasses come in all shapes, sizes, and colors and can be used to actually enhance a character’s style! Some of them even have magnetic frames that click in place over the simple pair, so have fun using glasses to build your character’s style.

- edit to add: no one ever purposely falls asleep with their glasses on. You will crush and break them when you roll around. However, if a character does accidentally fall asleep with them on, a love interest gently taking them off so they don’t wake them up and setting them on the table next to them can be a super cute moment.

- whoops thought of some more. Hair products, especially hairspray, can be a bitch to get off glasses and doesn’t always just rinse off with water. If they’re spraying anything, including dry shampoo, the glasses have gotta come off and get out of the line of fire first.

- hair can and will get caught in the little hinge by the legs and we do occasionally not notice till we take our glasses off and rip a hair out of our heads.

- be careful when you comb or brush, cuz if the glasses legs get caught in the brush or comb, it will be ripped off our face.

Hope this helps! May the writing gods bless your work 🤓

[olderthannetfic]

Someone took screenshots of my fic and are now mocking me for my writing, it's resulted in hate in my comments and I don't know what to do. The only reason I found out about this was because someone in the comments posted a link to the twitter account that started it. It's the first time I've ever written a fic, is it normally like this? I feel utterly humiliated and hopeless. Do you have any advice? I just feel like I should delete everything and never interact with fandom again.

--

The best way to make them stop is to ignore them or laugh at them... even if that's not how you feel on the inside.

Joke's on them: they're giving you free advertising.

It is actually pretty common, or it used to be. AO3's culture is not like this for the most part, but the 00s were rife with "sporking" accounts, and there used to be whole communities of twits on FFN who would rip apart fic for being "OOC" when what they actually meant was "gay" and/or "horny".

It's a common pastime of the emotionally immature. They especially love inexperienced writers who are easy to cow. Don't give them the satisfaction.

As for the comments, delete the obnoxious ones. People like seeing their own stupid opinions, and people like joining dogpiles. If their stuff is deleted, it won't attract as many new people. If you moderate comments, they can't automatically get the thrill of seeing their nonsense out there.

I personally prefer to archive-lock all my work unless it's a recent exchange fic or something. That cuts down on drive-by morons.

[hooksbooks]

Renegade Exchange '24: Her Kingdom As Great

I participated in @renegadeguild's typesetting and bound fic exchange, in which we trade typsetting/bound fic wishlists with other participants and then typseset/bind at least one fic from their list and send it to them.

This post is about the first fic I bound for @celestial-sphere-press: Her Kingdom As Great by MarbleGlove.

I was excited to see this fic on my requester's wishlist, because I've read this series in the past and really enjoyed it. I liked the imagery of the golden wheat berries from the Nearly Endless Plains being used in embroidery on clothing, so I wanted the cover to feature embroidered wheat sheaves.

My first step was to work on the book cloth. I knew I wanted something tan that looked kind of hand-woven, so I went to the fabric store and got some linen-look fabric that I liked. I also experimented with three different ways of making it into bookcloth: backed with tissue paper filled with Heat'n'Bond (right), filled with a 50/50 mix of starch paste and matte acrylic medium (bottom), and filled with the paste/medium mix with a piece of tissue paper on the back (top).

I ended up liking the last option the best, though it meant the fabric lost the slubby linen-like texture I had selected it for. I wanted to go all-in on the tan wheat-tone theme, so I also printed the text on cream paper instead of white (the right typeset in the picture above).

I also added a tan bookmark, embroidered on gold headbands, and added an oxford hollow (although this book is a bit too thin to really need it).

When I went to cover the book, I had every intention of using gold HTV foil. However, I didn't take into account how the beads would inhibit me moving the iron around like I usually do with HTV (to avoid issues with the steam holes). It didn't end well. In fact, it ended very horribly.

The foil only partially stuck, and when trying to use the tip of the iron to apply heat only on the bits that hadn't stuck, the iron left a big black stain on my bookcloth. Luckily, it came out pretty well with a bit of baking soda on a nearly-dry toothbrush. I ended up asking a neighbor for some gold paint and using some regular vinyl as a stencil, which worked out OK. I found out later that it works better if you put down a layer of acrylic medium or the like first to avoid bleeding around the edges, but you live and learn.

Technical details:

Quarto size (quarter-letter, about A6)

Sewn on tapes

Sewn-on made endpapers

Chisel-trimmed

Rounded but not backed

Sewn-on endbands

Sewn-on bookmark

Oxford hollow

The tapes are frayed and glued to the exterior of the boards

The mull is also glued to the exterior of the boards

Full bookcloth cover

Things I especially liked about this bind:

The embroidery. It turned out pretty much exactly how I had envisioned it

The filled bookcloth. I don't think I'll do it by default, but I liked how it turned out and I like having it as an option in my back pocket

Things I'd like to improve for next time:

The title. I don't mind the paint rather than HTV foil, but I didn't love that it bled under the edges of the stencil. Next time I'll try using acrylic medium to seal the edges first, and see how that turns out.

The endpapers. I've been applying my endpapers with the covers open because I was concerned that they'd pull weird and possibly rip at the hinge. Unfortunately, this causes a big wrinkle in the endpapers that does not look nice. I figured out while doing the back endpaper that it actually is just fine to apply the endpapers as I close the covers on them because of the way I taper my boards and glue the mull on the outside of the cover.

Overall I'm moderately pleased. It's the highest-effort book I've made so far, and it turned out nearly how I had envisioned it with only minor issues.

[katabay]

GILUBONG SA DOMINGO

UG MAO ANG KATAPUSAN NI—

okay, so there's a moderate trainwreck of ideas happening here, especially because this is the set up for a future thought I have not talked about yet!

first, the solomon grundy part is because for some reason, in my mind, it was always about a guy who got married and then died immediately after from a "mysterious" illness, and I'm pretty sure the Cain Saga Solomon Grundy chapter only reinforced that in some deep part of my brain

this! story! is about! a young man from the provinces who gets married to the daughter of the spanish governor and dies soon after. more or less, his wife murdered him for the land that was in his name, even though it was shared in the community without hierarchy, and she (with her father) intends to turn it into a sugar plantation.

and it's also about the engkanto, the 'not like us.' (so here's the thing, I know people have translated/compared engkanto to fairies, and honestly fuck that. my mom has always translated engkanto into english as 'not like us' since forever, and it's a better fit for our region than any comparison to european fairy folklore.) in the last panel with the mother, the man with the long hair is the engkanto in this story. so, the story:

once upon a time, there was a field, there was a harvest, there was a young man. and one day in the middle of the harvest season, there was a handsome stranger. every day he would invite the young man to come with him, offer him gifts, entice him with conversation. then: the young man got married. soon after, he died. his life has been stolen so the land can be exploited, and the handsome stranger is one with the land. this is now a story about retribution

this is playing off of the tinamnan gabe story a little, but I have diverged significantly because this is going to be about folklore horror, and it's also technically a prequel story for something else.

I've seen the tinamnan gabe story retold online and I've seen people cite the book it's recorded in (Negros Oriental and Siquijor Island Legends, Beliefs and Folkways), but I don't have access to the book so no additional citations for this RIP 😔 (while I heard a lot of similar stories to this one growing up, in a forest instead of a field, I still wish I had access to the book for a lot of reasons, but especially because I like reading things. I want to read the book!!)

to conclude this, I also want the mom to get revenge for her son. ideally, when I pin this idea down further, it will be about folklore horror AND revenge.

⭐ I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!

⭐ and other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

[acerathia]

pink camellias || Bonus: baby's breath

Chapter Summary:

baby's breath: everlasting love

Wordcount: 0.9k

Read the rest: Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

u know when u have a specific scene and the whole fic is written for it? this is mine and it didnt even make the cut, rip. anyway, this is the last scheduled post o7

A sigh escaped you the moment you hit your mattress. Your house arrest had been lessened, so you had started going to tea parties and luncheons with the ladies. Something you usually enjoyed moderately, yet since your return was never the same. You knew it was because of your fighting in the war, your hidden scars they were speculating about. It was simply a scandal, yet no one dared to be up front with these thoughts, as it was in the court of nobles. You should have been accustomed to it, since they were always like this as you were training with the sword, but it began to wear on you. Not only their whispers, but also the red tint still in your fingernail beds, no matter how much you scrubbed them, the flashing memories every time something moved too fast in the corner of your eyes. You won the war, but was it truly worth it?

There was also Katsuki. Since the feast, you had been avoiding him, as in not accepting whatever gifts or ignoring the letters he had been sending. As much as you did wish for it to be true, you knew all too well how vicious the court was, there was no way they would accept somebody like you at his side. So, you tried to discourage him, even if it hurt you both. Maybe that was what was needed.

A knock on your window startled you, and you grabbed a robe and the dagger hidden under your pillow. Gripping the hilt, you slowly approached the glass and peered through. At the sight of the person on the outside, you let your weapon fall as you hurriedly opened the window.

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a hushed voice, grabbing his hand and helping him climb into the room.

He grunted as he slipped through and spoke when his feet hit the ground. “You didn’t answer my letters, of course I got fucking worried.”

You bit your lip, not having expected him to come visit you at all. “I’m fine, you can go now…” You tried to turn around, but he grabbed your arm to stop you from doing so.

“Like hell I am… C’mon, what’s going on?” he tried to persuade you to confide in him, and you thought if he knew, maybe he would stop trying, too.

You shook your head. “This isn’t right, Katsuki. We can’t do this. The court, the nobles would never accept me by your side…”

His hand slipped over your arm and your shoulder to cup your face. “Fuckin’ hell. Since when did I or you care about the shitty opinion of these cannon fodders?”

Despite yourself, you leaned closer to his hand, simply shrugging at his words.

“It doesn’t matter, they don’t matter. All I care about is you, having you by my side, is that clear?”

“You won’t be persuaded otherwise, will you?” you sighed, still, a small smile tugging on your lips.

As he shook his head, you reached out to caress his cheek and then softly pinch it. “Fine, but don’t regret it…”

“Never,” he murmured, following you as you decided to take a seat on your bed.

The mattress dipped under his weight, shifting you closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you, slightly shifting, getting his shoes off, before he dragged you to lay on the bed by his side.

His fingers dipped over your waist, your hip.

You couldn’t help but blurt out. “Even if I’m marred by scars, by the battlefield?”

“Especially your scars… A badge of your bravery… In my eyes, that makes you even more beautiful,” he murmured, his fingertips hot on your exposed skin, slipping to your thigh and accurately finding the scarring there, the one he had bandaged up. “I love you, wholly and truly.”

A breath caught in your lungs, and you pulled him closer to you, gingerly pressing your lips against his, as if everything you wanted to tell him could be conveyed that way, whispering your own declaration against his gasping teeth. His fingers carefully dug into your thigh, thumb still brushing against the scar, as he kissed you back, soft, yet with a certain heat.

It didn’t take long for his lips to find your throat, your neck, the soft spot at the edge of your shoulder, your robe slipped off of it.

But instead of going further, he buried his face into the skin there, his breath warm against your collarbones, as he whispered something against it.

“Marry me…”, his voice rough, his grip slightly tightening against your waist, hips, shifting, like he was scared of your answer, scared you might disappear into the air, slipping between his fingers like sand.

And for a moment you stayed silent, not having expected these words at all. But the answer was as clear as the way the sun was going to rise tomorrow again. For once you ignored the reactions of the others, of your father, ignored the possible complications. All you thought about was spending the rest of your life by his side, fingers intertwined, protecting each other, be it with blades or words, spending every morning waking up to his face, going to bed every night close to him.

You couldn’t wish for anything else. A ‘yes’ escaping your mouth like a breath of air, simple and easy.

His hands immediately cupped your face, eyes scanning over your features, as if to commit them to memory, commit this exact memory into eternity. A bright smile broke over his face as he reached closer to meet your lips again, and again, and for the rest of your lives.

[pupyuj]

[cw: smut, thigh riding, fingering, edging]

I SAW YUJIN CLIPS FROM THE LATEST IVE ON AND I JUST HAD TO WRITE THIS‼️‼️ look at her... LOOK AT HERRRR 😩😩😩😩😩 (but not too much, she's my bf 😤)

college au where yujin is a cool and super smart biochem major that kinda gets too focused on her studies that she doesn't really notice you sometimes, which only makes you feel super needy bcs you really miss ur clingy gf but her having tons of workload changed everything in your relationship 💔 but it's not too much of a bad thing! yujin still finds comfort in knowing that you're around her while she's doing work, she can just grab you and hug you if she's feeling like she's sinking way too low into exhaustion — you're her little energizer!! 🥺 but sometimes a hug ain't enough for you :((

one day you're just walking around her room, looking at the polaroids on the wall, the picture frames on her table, the books on her bookshelves... eventually getting bored and just sitting beside yujin on the bed who, as usual, had her eyes clued to her laptop typing away what seems to be her sixth paper of the day??? "baby, aren't you tired?" you were pouting, and a frown only grew on your face when yujin shook her head, but you can see the tired look in her eyes and the way she has slouched over :(( "liar." you muttered before crawling around and settling yourself behind your girlfriend. she was about to complain until you put your hands on her shoulders and started massaging her gently,,

"you're the best, i swear." yujin sighs in bliss, finally releasing the tension on her back,, you hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek, earning a pat on the arm and a sweet smile before she focused on her screen again,,, seriously, she cannot take a hint 😭 you ended up giving her tons of kisses!! from her cheeks, to her temples, to her hair, to her nape, and then to her neck.. where she of course stopped ignoring you anymore after you've snuck your cold hands underneath her sweater, feeling her stomach... "(y/n)... okay, get on here." she finally says!!

making out with yuj on her lapppp 😵‍💫 her closing her laptop from behind you before putting her hands all over you :(( good thing you wore short and thin shorts today bcs you wouldn't feel yujin sneaking her thigh in between your legs and pulling you down so you could press your core against her :((( bucking your hips slowly while she kissed your neck, whispering things to you to get you even more wet,, "you've been a bit lonely, haven't you, babe? don't worry. tonight's gonna be all about you," and "i really did miss you too... i'll show you just how much, 'kay?" omgomg her looking up at you with a big smile, she looked so cute with those big glasses perched on her nose you couldn't help but kiss her again :((((

yujinnie fucking you while you're wearing only her shirt 😩 clutching onto her sweater while she spreads your cunt with her fingers,, she can't stop kissing you too!! she has already left so many marks on you and she only continues to leave more,, she has to let people know you're her baby!! 😤

whining when she pulls her fingers out of you just when you're about to come :(( "i want you to come on my thigh, baby. ride." she tells you while licking your wetness off her fingers,, it was the most attractive thing you've seen 😵‍💫 sihsdkjf yujin grabbing your hips and pressing her thigh against your wet pussy, starting you off in a moderate pace and only letting you go after you were riding her yourself,,, so fast and so desperate to come,,, moaning her name over and over the closer you get to your climax,,, but she rips it away again when she forces you off her thigh :((

"y-yujin-ah, please... i need you, let me come..." you knew yujin had a thing for you begging but you hated the edging part, especially during this time!!!

"right now? but we have the whole night..." yujin wasn't a monster, of course. she'll let you come early, she just thinks you look so cute when you're needy like this 😣😣 it was specially entertaining for her when you didn't even try to beg anymore and just grabbed her hand and put it close to your pussy, looking at her with a pleading look and a pout :((( how could she ever say no to her pretty baby??

yujin sliding her fingers back inside you,, thrusting into you at an insane pace but you're also riding her :(( tears rolling down your cheeks while you hugged her, rocking your hips like crazy on her hand,,, no doubt her dorm mate can hear you from the next room but neither of you really cared,, yujin does three things that made you lose your head: she plunged her fingers inside you as deep as she could, pressed her thumb against your clit, and bite your neck,,, you screamed her name as you came,, making a mess on her hand and her legs 😵‍💫😵‍💫

your cunt still on her bare thigh while you're coming down from your high shsdcdnkhs yujinnie slowly moving her leg so she could still stimulate you,,, laughing at your soft whines and patting your ass,, she would let you rest now but as soon as you've recovered.. 🫣

[senilthesynth]

RIP Cohost

Cohost is shutting down the end of the year. While I'm kinda sad because it was a good experiment to see if non-federated social media could be viable that doesn't rely on selling data or anything, I think Anti-Software Software Club just made too many assumptions that didn't or couldn't pan out. Including just... not understanding what they wanted in the end.

(Read more because this was originally a Bluesky post and got long)

Number 1 mostly being them being "blindsided" by Stripe clarifying their policy that, in the end, means ASSC couldn't use them as a way for users to tip each other or the Artists Alley section and such. That policy existed for years, well before Cohost ever existed. For context, ASSC originally wanted to build a Patreon competitor, not a social media site. They would have failed so hard if they stuck to a Patreon competitor on this alone.

And in my opinion, number 2 is their pay. They were paying themselves very well-off all things considered, and everyone was paid the exact same amount (~94k last I heard). That's… a lot of money going towards pay that could've gone to hosting costs. They're a startup. You pay yourselves what you can. I appreciate that they paid themselves well, but again. Startup. You pay what you can, and they were nowhere close to breaking even at any point.

I think their financial model didn't do themselves any favors - they started out with "we got a lot of loan money to do this and now we have to make it profitable" which, yeah, sometimes that's what it takes. But that's venture capitalism. Especially since Cohost's source code WAS the collateral! They acted as a leftist group trying to market themselves as a non-profit/not-for-profit (they're a LLC, they're legally not forced to do either), paying themselves well more than they realistically, and hoped they could get enough people to subscribe monthly to break even.

That… doesn't work.

Not to say this would've fixed things, but I think them registering as an LLC didn't help. That prevented them from bringing on anything resembling a volunteer, and since their whole thing was "everyone gets paid the same" it meant they had to operate with very few people. If I recall correctly, they had one moderator. Maybe two. Maybe. Two developers, an artist, and a moderator. Four people. MAYBE five, I forget the exact number.

This is entering hypothetical territory so everything is unknown and is me guessing a lot of things, but is based on what I do know.

Being a non-profit comes with its own set of problems, but if they could become and maintain a 501(c)3 non-profit, they could pay themselves what they could and have people willing to help volunteer moderate. They could never get code contributors, though, since their source code was their collateral it by nature had to be closed off. Also, donations (recurring or one-off) are tax-deductible for US-members, so while it's not a HUGE benefit it offers at least that small bonus.

I'm glad that they tried, and got as far as they did (even if it meant loan after loan to not die instantly). It showed that it could be possible - that there's hope in this idea. It's just a question of HOW to make it a sustainable reality. I don't think there's a clear answer there, though. Like my non-profit idea hinges heavily on maintaining 501(c)3 status (or similar) and being able to bring on volunteers as-needed. Using a public spec for the back-end (like ActivityPub or ATProto) so the focus can be on implementing it (even if federation is never a thing) instead of doing it raw - which avoids the back-end development time but then means having to work with an existing spec that may or may not change substantially over time.

IDK. I have no idea what would make a medium-form social media such as Cohost viable. Maybe it's the same idea but with lower pay so it's easier to bring new people on as-needed, with the expectation that this is a passion project 'til it gets off the ground. Maybe it takes the "use a public spec for back-end" approach and focuses on the implementation of it with their own additions and flair. ActivityPub is one spec, but you have Mastodon, Pixelfed, Misskey, Wafrn, etc. that all go in different directions. ATProto will likely be the same one day - Bluesky being the obvious "reference" implementation right now.

Maybe it's something else entirely that I could never ever think of. I don't know, but all I do know is that I'm glad they tried. Unfortunately, the writing has been on the wall for months now and honestly? If you didn't expect that, that's on you. People have been saying that Cohost wasn't sustainable for months.

[bodybeyondstories]

dicks keep growing around me - 7 (Myron)

Ty hatches a plan to make some extra spicy content using Myron's ability. Myron begrudges after some self-reflection, and things tumble further than either of them expect.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 (Previous) | 8 (Next)

male TF // growth // dick growth // ass expansion // nsfw

4478 words

(This is now the longest running series and I have two more DKGAM chapters that I started developing as I was writing this one. Might be settling back into a writing mood, so that's cool. Also I've just really been enjoying sitting with these characters)

---

[Me: It’s not that I’m opposed to it]

[Ty: But you’re not *not* opposed to it]

[Me: I’m ruminating on the situation]

[Ty: Ok! We love to ruminate!]

[Me: It’s just risky…]

[Ty: What could possibly go wrong?]

I briefly considered the laundry list of mishaps and mayhem that had consistently been falling into my life, baffled by the thought that Ty’s superdick ripping through their pants and coating their car in jizz had somehow not scared them away from me in perpetuity. They could barely keep the baseball bat swinging between their legs under wraps and were by whatever tiny miracle cool with that.

[Ty: ok actually don’t answer that. We’ll be careful this time!]

[Me: Is careful in the room with us now?]

[Ty: Just once. We recreate my l'il episode in the locker room, but with some rippage. Just enough to wow the viewers. That's it!]

[Me: You mean when you got all up in my underwear and almost ruined your own 🤨]

[Ty: Exactly 😙! But this will be more of a controlled scenario. ‘Dicks keep growing around me,’ in your words. They'll eat this up.]

I never should’ve uttered that phrase. I sat curled on the couch and levied an exasperated sigh at my phone. It's always some sort of antic with this one. I thought that inadvertently turning us into medical mysteries verging on freaks of nature would temper my former roommate’s exhibitionist imagination, but they were doing a great job of rolling with the punches–much better than poor Miguel and his window washing beau. But Ty seemed to thrive with the mammoth appendage springing from their groin, and it was their body to do what they felt like. And I do like to help my friends, even if in my own unique way.

I rested a hand on my hip, contemplating how far we would take these shenanigans before whatever this mysterious power was tapped out or we ended up in some government facility or pharmaceutical lab. I'd like to spend time around the people I care about without them growing uncontrollable donkey dicks. Even if they didn't seem to care all that much. I caressed the curvature of my backside, cheeks stretched taut over a layer of fat padding powerful muscle. These days, I felt like I could lift anything with only moderate effort. It was actually making my workouts more difficult, I was having to get creative just to maintain progressive overload. Some of the more serious guys at the gym have been trying to get me into powerlifting, even amateur competitions, but I’m mildly afraid of where that might lead. And I don’t need even more attention.  

I felt a tremble in my glutes as the muscles seemingly flexed in disagreement. I'd been feeling these small twitches more often lately, deep in the muscle. I was worried I'd been overtraining. Maybe I should slow down on leg day, I thought, then immediately banished the idea. I guess, like Ty, I had started to grow accustomed to the spotlight on my dump truck whenever I was in public. I even got a kick out of the furtive glances and comical double takes. My hands were always resting on my round cheeks, letting me steal small squeezes here and there, especially when I was trying to think through something, and cared less and less who saw me feeling myself up. With this ass, who could blame me?

I glanced back at the mound of my oversized posterior making a permanent taking up space on the couch. I couldn’t help but wonder how far all this would go, reflecting on a recurring anxious daydream of a future in which the plush couch was gone entirely and I simply had beanbag size butt cheeks to relax into. I had convinced myself that we’d figure all this out long before things got that far. And if Ty was right about one thing, it’s that these changes were kind of fun. And it’s not like anything all that bad had happened. So far.

—

7…8…9…

I gritted my teeth as I tried for a tenth hip thrust. The plates clanged heavy against the ground as I failed, my butt falling back to the floor in resignation. I breathed a sigh of relief at being done with my last set, my glutes burning in satisfaction. Again that annoying twitch, stronger this time. 

At least these shorts held up, I thought,  leaning my head back. It was a quiet morning at the gym, meaning I could unapologetically load up the bar with several plates on each side, enough to really get a pump going. I needed to work up a sweat for Ty's little experiment later, which I had begrudged when they finally wore me down by promising to get a few pairs of super supportive, ultra stretchy gym shorts from the athletic line of the brand sponsoring them. All I had to do was go through my normal routine, hand them off in the locker room, and film the short scene with Ty before any unsuspecting person wandered through.

“Myron, right?” came a question from somewhere above and behind.

I swiveled my head around towards that voice, looking up to see someone silhouetted against the overhead lights. I couldn't quite make out their face, but I'd recognize that figure from a mile away.

“Winston?”

“Yeah, you remember,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Um, sorry if this is awkward, but I saw you from across the floor and I just had to know where you got those…”

“Shorts?” I interjected, a beaming smile appearing on my face. 

“Yeah! I've ripped through just about every pair I have, it's kind of becoming a problem. You know how it is.” We nodded in commiseration. “I could send you the link for these, if you want?” I said as I extracted myself from under the loaded bar and regained my footing, trying to casually pull the thin fabric to cover more of my thighs (to no avail). This current pair looked painted on and kept riding up my legs, making my ass look somehow even more bubbled, but they were solid. At least for the time being. “I’m pretty satisfied so far, and I think we’re probably the same size.”

“No, I think you might have me beat,” said Winston, eyeing me up with an appreciative smile. “Are you a trainer? I need to know your routine.”

I was taken aback. Winston looked like he had just stepped out of a fitness magazine. His stringer tank top hung from the peaks of his traps and flowed delectably over his torso, leaving his juicy pecs, biceps, and boulder shoulders exposed to the air, nipples peeking out playfully whenever he moved, the light catching the glisten of sweat in just the right way along his deep brown skin. His thin joggers ended at calf height, doing nothing to hide his tree trunk quads and of course, the wildly disproportionate globes of his glutes, stretching the otherwise loose sweats tight across the mathematically elegant curvature of muscle that made up his backside. His body was a work of art. And he wanted fitness advice from me?

I turned to the mirror. Maybe it was the way my shorts were riding up or maybe a trick of the light, but it did look like my perky bubble butt had surpassed his, evolving into an amazonian ass since we’d last met.

“Um, sure,” I stammered. “Yeah, let me give you my number, we could train together sometime. Miguel will get a kick out of this,” I added with a nervous chuckle, handing him my phone.

“Well he definitely has a type.” He winked as he put his info in and shot himself a text.

—

I left Winston with the comically overloaded barbell to get his leg workout going and headed to the locker room. Ty was standing in one of the aisles, leaning against a wall of lockers with arms crossed, looking unusually impatient.

“Time is of the essence,” they snapped. “We're about to hit the midday rush.”

“Oh am I holding up your little workday excursion?” I quipped, working my fingers under the waistband of my shorts. It was struggle enough to get them on, but with a serious glute pump, it was a lost cause. I meticulously peeled them down the top half of my ass cheeks until they simply wouldn't budge against the hemispheres of my posterior. Ty, seeing my frustration, intervened, locking their thumbs in and pushing down as the elastic approached catastrophic failure, eventually resorting to palming each cheek with one of their dinner plate sized hands.

“You sure you don't want to make some content of your own?” they asked, grunting with the effort. “You would do numbers.”

With my gym shorts finally off (with no shortage of curses, prayers, and geometric strategizing), I whipped my underwear towards Ty's face. They caught them in their nimble fingers, appearing to hold the reinforced bikini briefs with reverence. They closed their eyes and let their nose dance delicately above them like a sommelier of magic musk.

“Is it that serious?” I asked.

“You have no idea,” they answered. “But let's save all that for when the camera's rolling.” They whipped off their work shirt and track pants and positioned themself on the bench facing the camera in nothing but their underwear, their long legs splayed to either side. Their massive fabric encased member rested on the bench, thrust forward slightly as they leaned back, indulging in another strong whiff of my underwear.

I had long known Ty made fetish content, but I had never actually seen them in action. They had crafted a compelling character. Laid back stoner with gravelly, sultry undertones. They reel you in with a dopey demeanor and cute asides, their eyes dancing casually around the mise en scene as if there was something vaguely interesting just off screen, before cutting directly to the camera with startling intensity. I watched my recently used underwear tangle between their fingers as they brought them up to their face and inhaled deeply, their eyes fluttering with a full body shudder. This looked genuine. They bit their lip as they dug into the sweat soaked fabric, their face a contortion of pleasure and pain. With their shirt off you could see their core flexing in involuntary waves, becoming stronger and stronger as beads of sweat formed on their brow. Eventually they began to shudder across their entire form, lean muscles brought into stark relief as they curled forward and stood up to their full height, staring down at the camera as they blocked one of the overhead lights to create an accidental dramatic effect. This was getting serious. They rested their hands on the tops of the lockers for support as they became slightly off balance, a brief look of confusion as their dick lurched further, small tears appearing in the fabric of their overstressed pouch, shudders becoming rolling muscle contractions across their slim, lanky physique.

They struck an imposing figure with their full wingspan splayed across the tops of the lockers on either side. How had I forgotten how tall they’d grown? Their fingers curled against the metal, head drooping down more and more frequently to the commotion coming from their groin. Their breathing became heavier and more urgent as their dick pushed against its confines, already testing the limits of its pouch as it began to visibly engorge.

It was obvious that the pouch was comically, woefully huge, literally unbelievable if you hadn't already seen the beast visibly pulsing against the fabric as if in sync with their heartbeat, eyes and lips creased with discomfort.

“I think it's…happening…again,” they muttered, looking down at their overpacked crotch with a mask of worry. I couldn't tell how much of this was an act for the video and how much was real. I don't think I cared. The pouch was inflating with the pressure of Ty’s growth, stretching the fabric to the limit as it grew larger and larger, slowly revealing their pubes as the waistband was pulled downward. 

I was captivated, my heart pounding with the knowledge of what was happening in that pouch, turned on by the prospect of our all too real fantasy content production suddenly being discovered by some unsuspecting civilian. I thought of Miguel. Saw his self-conscious worry in the set of my friend's face, wondered if his own expanding member would reach a similar point that could only conservatively be described as colossal. My hole twitched at the thought.

“Augghh!” exclaimed Ty, bending over in pain and snapping me back to reality.

“You okay?” I asked. I knew this was risky.

“Wait. It's…almost,” they muttered through clenched teeth and panicked breaths.

Small tears began to appear as the pouch finally started to give way, growing and widening as their monster cock did the same. A slow tearing sound filled the space as the fabric separated bit by bit from the elastic waistband and the seams of their pouch split open just as the growth started to slow down and rest to a stop. With a final grunt, the now useless panties gave way and fell to tatters as Ty's semi hard cock ripped through, hanging down between their knees under its own weight, a few bits of fabric still hanging on.

“Was,” they breathed heavily, hands holding on to the lockers on either side. “Was that good?”

I was speechless. It was incredible. “I, uh–”

“I think so!” came a voice of encouragement out of the ether that Ty seemed to immediately recognize.

Their eyes widened in shock as they whipped around, revealing an unassuming gym goer previously hidden behind the expanse of their double wide back. Their newly enlarged schlong swung heavily through the air, bobbing back and forth until they stopped it firmly with one hand and tried to cover it up with the other, a gesture that was so comically futile that it just served to emphasize how undeniably massive their dick had become. Their long, lithe form was crouched in embarrassment, their naked body displaying a vulnerability that I don't know I'd ever seen from them before. 

“Kai!” they exclaimed, their voice an entire octave higher with what sounded like uncharacteristic nerves. “We've, um, got to stop meeting like this.”

—

“So who's this twink they have a crush on?”

Miguel was cuddled up against me later that evening, his hand caressing my ass cheek in lazy circles. I felt my glutes spasm again. Strong enough to resonate deep in my hole and cause my back to arch ever so slightly.

“That whole story and that's what you're focusing on?” I asked. “And I don't know if it's a crush so much as a series of awkward encounters.”

“Or a pattern of meet-cutes, as they say,” countered Miguel. “They're having a romcom moment, they should lean into it.” He smirked and gave my butt a playful swat.

“Okay but not even the underwear thing?” I asked, rolling on top of him to grab two handfuls of his juicy pecs. He's really been going hard lately, I thought. 

“I can’t blame them. You've got an enticing aroma.” Miguel pointedly squeezed the underside of my ass, sliding a finger towards the entrance of my waiting hole.

Another spasm. Strong enough for Miguel to feel the tremor through my glutes and pause briefly. He bit his lip in anticipation as I arched my back and began to rock against his groin, feeling the heat of his python stirring to life. He gasped as I rolled his nipples under my thumbs, his dick jumping in excitement. Has he always been this sensitive? I thought, but didn’t have time to reflect as he slid one finger, then two into my sensitive hole. I clamped down, biting my lip as my butt cheeks flexed with the sudden spike of pleasure.

“You always feel so good,” he said, sliding a third and fourth digit, beginning to prep me for what was to come.

I could discern what was to come extending between my legs, pushing them apart with its girth. I could practically feel his heartbeat through the pulses of the veins along his shaft. His face narrowed in concentration, his breath deepening as he got harder and harder, his baseball bat elongating inexorably behind me. I was overcome with lust as my lips fell hard onto his.

“I really can’t blame them,” Miguel repeated, swinging around to reposition me on all fours, ass up, back arched. His dick flailed widely under its own momentum, slapping the insides of my thighs with blunt force. It wasn’t yet fully hard, but was that still hard enough to bruise? Note to self, I mused. He smacked the globes of my ass with enough force to definitely leave a mark, setting them into uncontrollable jiggling motion.

“Fuck,” he whispered, grabbing handfuls of each cheek.

A steady ooze of precum wound its way down my back. These days, he had no shortage of homemade lube. He nestled his face between my shoulder blades, rubbing his beard against my sweaty back as he left urgent kisses on my skin. My hole twitched in anticipation. His breath became ragged as he slid his massive head between my cheeks. The sheer weight of it was more astounding every time.

But he continued. He left a gooey trail of precum as he caressed my shuddering hole and his cock thumped heavy onto the bed before springing back up to kiss my taint. I sighed in wanting, missing the weight of his monster cock even though I still felt the heat radiating from it. But then that beard was tickling my sensitive hole, and those urgent kisses turned into guttural moans as he began furiously eating me out. It was enough to cum right then and there.

“God you taste so good,” he moaned between my cheeks.

Miguel’s rimming prowess was such that it nearly eclipsed the power of his record breaking dick. My mind was swimming in ecstasy, unable to hold on to a coherent thought beyond whatever symphony he was writing through expert ministrations around my butthole. I was dimly aware of the muscle tremors running across my glues getting stronger and more frequent, a dance of minute twitches interspersed with full spasms, crescendoing into a full body shudder as my ab muscles contracted together and a prickly heat spread across my backside and down my legs. It felt familiar. I had the phantom sensation of deja vu but nowhere near the mental capacity to investigate.

“Does this feel good?” Miguel asked, coming up briefly for air.

“I, uh, yeah,” I eked out, clenching my teeth through the orgasmic heat radiating from my lower body. I felt another shiver, my ass and leg muscles contracting in tandem on a regular basis now. What’s happening? I thought. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this kind of full body horniness, a pulsar firing off gamma rays with every heartbeat.

“You look so fucking good.” Miguel caressed each ass cheek, then let his fingers trace along my hamstrings. “You’ve really been hittin’ legs, huh? Feels even better than I remember.” An inside joke that gave him no end of amusement. “You’re sure they’re not sneaking that GluteMax stuff in the gym's water supply?” I felt my right cheek jiggle as he gave it a firm slap.

“Had a great leg day,” I chuckled. “And I know a guy.”

Miguel repositioned, backing up awkwardly to extricate his dick from underneath my belly and position his massive head at the top of my ass crack. I looked back to see him entranced, one hand resting on my ass for stability and the other holding the base of his dick. The space needed between us just to situate his cockhead at my backdoor was comical, he may as well have been on the other side of the room.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Be my guest.” I steeled myself for what was to come.

I was well aware that I was quite possibly the only person on earth that could take his gargantuan prick and those first few inches of his mushroom head always felt unreal. My hole expanded past what I thought was humanly possible as he slowly rocked back and forth, easing himself in. Before long, my walls were stretched to the limit. When he was inside me, all I could even fathom was the pressure of his monster cock filling me up to the brim, sending me to ethereal heights. He began to work up a rhythm, but then I worked up my own. My glutes and legs weren’t the only parts of my lower body that had gained outsized strength. As I became lost in orgasmic bliss, I was pushing and pulling him in and out by sheer force of will, using him as little more than a human dildo.

“Fuck you’re strong,” he breathed, moaning into me as he relinquished control. Bottoming out was a pipe dream, but he had made it far enough in to grab my hips and leave little bite marks on the small of my back as he held on for dear life.

As I built toward orgasm, the spasms got stronger and longer. My legs were on fire, I felt like I could burst if I didn’t cum soon. I was bearing down on Miguel’s cock with enough force to destroy a normal human penis, eliciting a grunt of concern.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I…I just…” I lost the ability to formulate sentences as a mind melting orgasm crashed over me, a supernova centered around my hole, which still refused to relinquish its iron grip on Miguel’s cock. I shot rope after rope of cum against my chin, my chest, my stomach, before my hand finally steadied my dick. But the feeling of orgasmic release continued, my back arching deeper, knees sliding across the bed and feet losing purchase as suddenly they dangled in the air. My legs settled into a delicious stretch to relieve tension, contractions finally releasing with the last spurts of jizz.

“That was…that was amazing,” breathed Miguel. I could hear his feet stumble onto the floor as his prodigious cock slid slowly out of me, ending with a thud against the edge of the bed as he stood up to full height, hands still gripping my cheeks for support. “Wow,” he muttered, fingers splayed out against my butt. “You’re really good at that,” he said.

“Good at what?” I asked, shifting around to slide off the bed and find purchase on the hardwood.

“Whatever muscle you’ve been training to, um…” he trailed off, looking dumbfounded.

“To what?” I continued, standing up to full height and looking down into Miguel’s big cocoa eyes.

Looking down? I glanced at Miguel’s feet to verify that they were solid on the ground and worked my way up the rest of him. Not kneeling, not slouching. So how was I looking down? I was a tad bit taller than Miguel but we still basically saw eye to eye. But now I was gazing from inches above, down into his flabbergasted expression.

A wave of disorientation hit as I looked past him into the mirror, my head closer to the upper edge than I remember it ever being. I rested my hands on his shoulders. I was now visibly, undeniably taller than him. Miguel stepped aside, shocked into silence as he turned my body ninety degrees, my side profile coming into view in the reflection.

My upper body was the same. Soft paunch of my belly below pecs that were starting to take shape along with some definition coming in along my triceps and forearms. The look of someone who was still relatively new to working out but consistent with a rigorous program and appeared to be decently in shape. As my eyes wandered down the expanse of my lower half my heart fluttered in disbelief.

I was inexplicably higher from the ground because my legs were…bigger. It wasn’t an optical illusion or some sort of sex induced vertigo. I was literally taller. My quads, hamstrings, and calves had the same shape and muscularity, the same healthy layer of fat, but had become bigger and beefier versions of the legs I had had just a few minutes ago. They looked wildly disproportionate to everything above the waist. Yet that was the least of my concerns.

With some strategizing, I could’ve probably maneuvered my most forgiving pants onto my legs. I was certain I had some shorts on hand that were stretchy enough to at least cover my quads until I could figure out how to update this wardrobe. But there was nothing I owned that was going to last more than three minutes against the planetoids that had inflated behind me.

I thought back to my encounter with Winston at the gym. It was hard to imagine how I could’ve ever compared myself to Miguel’s dapper, bubble butted fling. Winston’s ass was a showstopper, but this? This was something else entirely. My ass had grown into two beach balls perched on top of my hamstrings, ballooning from my lower back around the small dimples on each side. It was a comically unrealistic, anatomically impossible morph that was very very real. I squeezed one cheek and felt a pulse of pleasure permeate the background noise of post-coital satisfaction, causing me to briefly lose my balance.

I stumbled backwards, still disoriented from my sudden growth spurt (Is this how Ty felt?), my monster booty smashing Miguel back onto the bed hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He sat up on his elbows, awestruck, his semi-hard python bobbing in the air in front of him.

“Oh shit,” I said, my face flushing with embarrassment. “I think I need to sit down.”

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” said Miguel. “I always got a seat for you.”

He leaned forward and placed his hands on the underside of each cheek, taking a second to watch them shake, then buried his head deep between them, fully smothered by the time he reached my hole.

The flood of pleasure tuned out any concern I had had about this latest development. I sighed, leaned back, and fell on top of him, his head and shoulders disappearing beneath my mammoth ass as his dick sprung to full attention dangerously close to my lips. I grabbed hold with both hands, each of which could barely wrap around half of his pole, and began lapping up the steady stream of pre from his mushroom head.

One more thing to deal with later, I reasoned as I began to fall back into a second wave of orgasmic bliss. This really was fun. So far.

[greenapplespider]

Blood in Moderation is long, arduous, a bit overly esoteric, has too many characters, and I write it like a spastic maniac jumping from one non-congruent scene to the next based off vibe. But, because it’s me, the story is dark and whumpy.

There’s a massive portion of two characters back stories (Jeffery and Romulus), that I’m iffy on whether to leave vaguely mentioned or to just delve into it hog wild.

Here’s the whump scenario, between these two. Also, I write my notes like little stories.

—

After being turned into blood-suckers by, Adrien. Our newly minted mutants are imprisoned and experimented on for years until a moment of chance occurs and Romulus is able to escape his cell. Hastily, he looked for his friends but is only able to find Jeffery, before they are beset upon by the guards.

Despite having his magic bound, Jeffery powered through- with the assistance of some blood magic- and is able to narrowly teleport the both of them away, but with great harm done to himself.

Jeffery and Romulus eventually make their way to one of their old bases, a seldom used old-world bunker, a weeks walk from Torch City and in the middle of an old-growth forest.

The two intend to regroup and rescue their friends but being a blood-sucker is a difficult thing. You don’t think right, everything seems to be teetering on a knife’s edge of insanity, all your instincts are new and intense. Denying even one intrusive thought is an monumental task; paired with the unending urge to eat and fuck and nest and rip and tear and-

Higher thought can be an even more difficult thing for a fledgling, especially when half starved on animal blood and under-stimulated.

Months turned into year and years into decades, time a meaningless swirl only disrupted by occasionally tearing each other apart.

In the midst of it all, Jeffery slowly started coming back to himself, sooner then Romulus. Being beat half to death, during another fight, was a final straw for him, regardless of how regretful Romulus seemed. Jeffery decided it was probably best for the two of them to part ways.

Romulus, still rather insane, took issue with this. Jeffery was, quite literally, the only thing he had left and he would rather kill himself then be alone, at this point. There was a part of him that knew it was fucked, that Jeffery was right and that they couldn’t keep living like this. But the animal part drowned out any reason to be had.

They fought, Jeffery still recovering from their last bout, was easily over powered. Romulus locked him deep inside the bunker, within one of the magic retardant rooms, forcing the old magic restraints on him, and chaining him to the wall.

Weeks passed before he’d come down from it enough to realize the line he’d crossed. But it was too late, he couldn’t undo what he’d done; the guilt was gnawing and not something he wanted to think about. So Romulus didn’t.

It was years before the part of him- he wouldn’t call it human as he was anything but at this point; but it was the part of him that was more then just the debased animal he’d become- had matured enough to be sobered by his actions.

Romulus finally forced himself to unlock the door he’d pointedly avoided for who knows how long. He didn’t realize how much he hated himself until then. How much of a pathetic coward he’d become.

Looking at the still, emaciated, figure lying on its back, covered in old and crusted blood. Claw marks littered the walls and door, it seems at some point Jeffery had gnawed off his own hands and feet, to slip the cuffs; enough time having past that the limbs had even regrown.

He looked like a monster. Pale, hairless, elongated arms, widened mouth, with clawed hands and no genitalia to speak of. The creature, once deathly still, was on him snapping its jaws before it chirped and began smelling him, burying its face in the crook of his neck. Romulus could feel a slight nibble break the skin, the creature taking only a taste before chirping again and moving off him. Gangly limps moving clumsily, quickness and grace gone once it was clear there was no food to be had. The creature laid back down and began staring at the ceiling again.

Romulus sat up in the doorway. That was his friend. He’d done this to his friend.

So he started to feed him, feed him as much and as often as he could. Forgoing food himself most days just to make sure Jeffery had his fill. Animal blood wasn’t enough, Romulus knew what was needed but he didn’t want to risk leaving his friend unattended. So he hunted as much as he could and grew skinnier and skinner.

Jeffery began filling back out, his hair started growing in, covering his head and lower torso in a red peach fuzz. He almost found it cute. It didn’t help how happy Jeffery was whenever he brought him food, chirping excitedly when he’d arrived. Sometimes nipping at him, as though to convince him eat. Sometimes Romulus did and it broke his heart at how delighted it made the other.

The healthier Jeffery became the more physical he wanted to be, always trying to touch him. Burry his face in his neck, nipping at him, and even other things; guiltily, Romulus let him.

Eventually, Jeffery seemed, physically, more or less recovered but his mind was still elsewhere. Completely animalistic, but sometimes he’d wake from a nightmare and for a moment the look in his eyes made Romulus nauseous.

Romulus decided, then, if Jeffery was ever able to regain himself he would let the other man kill him. Do whatever he wanted with him- it would be his right.

—

Physical attributes of feral blood suckers:

Emaciated figure

Hair falls out

Enlarged mouth and sharpened teeth

Elongated arms with clawed hands

Both sets of genitalia shrivel up and recess into the body

Does not appear able to urinate or defecate 

Stronger then average human but weaker then a well fed blood sucker

Extremely slow healing but undeterred by injuries

Mages turned feral are able to perform the most base spells at their disposal

Reacts only to outside stimulation

Enters torpor without stimulation

Incapable of speech or high order thinking (completely animalistic)

Driven purely by the need for food

With proper food and close proximity to nest mates for a prolonged period, there is a chance of regaining one’s faculties and human form

[flipfliqyaoi]

Do you think Flippy/Fliqpy might have a high pain tolerance?

In general — ittt depends on their situation but they have at least moderate pain tolerance! due to the injuries that he endured throughout his time in the military (I still wonder how they got both their forearms successfully sewed back on. Honestly I'd love to draw a variation of him where he didn't manage to recover his forearms and had to get bionic arms instead! I don't see that design idea at all and I wanna see how it would look like tbh!!) (or maybe he only managed to reattach one of his arms, and required the other to just stay that way or get prosthetics, he could be matching with Azulin from Unicorn Wars LOL.)

I think the pain tolerance is the same when it comes to the two, I also believe that when Flippy feels pain (ESPECIALLY unexpected spikes of it/very sudden sharp pain, and not something like idk a stomachache or whatnot.), it is a huge trigger for Fliq to rush in and see what the hell is hurting the host. Fliqs immediate fight response as usual would kind of combat that pain due to the adrenaline he starts to get, and like yeah I can see how that would seem like his pain tolerance is unbelievably high (as shown in KaPow how he did acknowledge his forearms being ripped off, looking visibly shook and devastated for a split second even — before resuming back to fighting like it was nothing. Because he knows that the MOMENT that adrenaline dies out he's going to be in a world of unimaginable pain. So, he's trying to finish the job asap + apparently deliver that pizza too 🗣️🗣️ He doesn't have a superhuman pain tolerance, his adrenaline is just carrying him really heavily 10/10 times haha)

I also think Flippy would just. Be the same as Fliq BECAUSE of what was shown in Double Whammy, genuinely the only time where we see Flippy being injured that doesn't result in immediate death. where he hurts and throws himself around whilst in his delusional state from trying to OD. He gets allegedly electrocuted, squashed by a piano, beaten up, and he WALKS IT OFF IN THE END like it was nothing if um we ignore that he gets run over at the last second. (good god I still need to make a separate post about that entire episode it's so so interesting to me. BTW i say alleged on the part where Fliq electrocutes Flippy because it's unclear if he was the Fliq or the Flip in that scene, um confusing stuff I got explanations for!)

But yeah his brain or anyone's brain for that matter cannot just register all that pain in like one moment until way later so it explains why he's lowkey so nonchalant about the absolute tragedy he went through/just witnessed. But yk in a more realistic way — the moment it really kicks in, he's gonna be bawling his eyes out lowk. yeah though again, he's got some good tolerance imo !!! 👍

[talenlee]

Decemberween 2024 — Cohost (RIP)

In August 2023, I wrote about trying to make for a cozier internet. Now part of that is unavoidably built around the fact that I turned 40 that year and you know what it’s really really hard to avoid noticing how often I make the same typos from hand to hand, like it’s just possible I’m now at an age where one of my two hands is faster than the other and that’s how I’m going to notice my age rather than the normal model of like, my first gray pubic hair. But the point is, back then I talked about the idea of taking things slower and making more careful searches, treating the internet as a place to be connected to people, and one of the ways I mentioned – offhandedly – doing that, was Cohost.

Cohost was a website. It was like a website.

I wrote something about the end of Cohost back in the diary of the month when it passed – my September 2024 wrapup has some of the thoughts there, about what Cohost was in the broad, top-down sense of the form.

This article was always planned to happen, here in Decemberween, when I started the year — I sketched out the idea that I would use the Decemberween posts as a chance to show you a ‘best of Cohost’ set of posts, things that my friends or peers made and I wanted you to see or know about. It was, in my mind, a way to encourage you to use a social media platform I used, not just ‘because I was there,’ but because I could show to you its merits, and how it worked.

Except, y’know, it didn’t work.

Definitionally, Cohost did not work because it could not make enough money with its model of remuneration that could meet its costs. I don’t know much about those costs, though every person I’ve seen discussing those costs tends to be someone who I wouldn’t trust to manage their own bathroom supplies let alone managing a multi-national business that’s meant to pay people’s rents, so I don’t think it’s a good conversation for me to get involved in. Still, if you define the function of a website as ‘exist enough to keep existing,’ for whatever parameters you consider that to mean, then Cohost did not. In a few days, it will be deleted off the internet, and that is all for what Cohost is.

And then it will be what Cohost was.

Not only was Cohost not financially viable, though, it was also a place that was, undeniably, very white. It was too big for the people who made it to moderate it at the rate it grew, and it was biased towards people who were friends with the founders, and the kind of people who were friends with those people. All very real, very legitimate problems that were part of the character of cohost and I don’t want to pretend that actually, it being a place black people didn’t feel safe was somehow a quirky speech affect. I can think of four or five ‘big name’ posters (by their avatars, I actually don’t know their names) who would create and promote posts about this problem, which I remember seeing leading to some goodnatured comments from people going ‘hm hm hm,’ and then too many people piping up to say ‘can I argue with this post so effectively structural racism stops existing?’ and those seemed exhausting to produce.

It isn’t like knowing about these problems changes the impact the place had on me. I’m a byproduct of a lot of racist things. I like to make sure I hold onto, and keep present, the awareness of those racisms, especially those ones that aren’t ‘this person keeps saying a slur’ but rather, ‘there’s this structural problem and whatever neutral stance you took failed to fix it.’

Cohost was a place that taught me the phrase, ‘you don’t want an audience, you want a community.’ I talk to students about audience a lot, in a deliberately anodised way. When I say ‘your audience’ I mean ‘who is this for? who do you want to see it?’ and my students, brains rotted by a million platforms that have been teaching them to be pre-emptively burnt out Fiverr ‘social media experts,’ ‘audience’ means ‘the number under my name on my platform of choice, that can be turned into some kind of graph.’ This is one of those words that I’m genuinely coming to think need a new schisming, I need to use a term that doesn’t make these people assume I mean the thing they’re already predisposed to think of because of course, the way I’m using it, I mean something that can be intimate and dynamic and immediate, and if that’s not what people hear, then I can’t restructure their heads, I need to find some other way to get the idea into them.

Because what I mean, so often, is your community.

Not ‘who are the people you broadcast to’ but who are the people you share with?

I don’t know who reads this blog. I don’t know who watches my videos. I don’t know who listens to the podcasts. I know that I have a degree of microsuccess here, where things I make have ten to thirty people express some interest and engage with some effort. But I have spoken to some of those and you know what? the reason the cohost race discussion sticks out in my mind is because I know one of the people in my audience would expect me to not ignore it. I don’t want to let that person down.

Because I am in community with the audience, even if I don’t know you. I don’t know you, by name, reading this, right now. I don’t have that analytical tool and I’ve done things to turn those tools off, to take them away. The point of this system is not to try and steal information about what you think from the material you touch, but rather, to make you feel comfortable talking to me about what you think.

It’s not everything I learned from Cohost. But it is something Cohost taught me. Also that I gotta be the one to reach out on discord to check in on people, y’know?

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[sophiethewitch1]

hey sophie! ive been listening to the www playlist a lot lately and was wondering if you could bust out ur playlist thesis? however much ur cool with sharing!! would love to hear your thoughts hehe. also, are there any bonus tracks we can listen to from the big og playlist?

i want you to know that for this entire post I was doing this

absolutely constantly. raving maniac mode. under the cut so i don't make everyone hate me for all the bullshit im about to spout and like some cough cough future hints. No actual spoilers but like... vibes and things that are obvious. Me telling you there will be yandere things in the yandere story, shock horror. These songs are the trailers/animatics in my head so uh. It's kind of hard to explain them without that (which is why I literally CAN NOT) for a couple of them lol. Oh!!!! And I've also got some other songs that really should've made the playlist but I just didn't add for some reason. Laziness or whatever. One's literally called birthday party. I uh. Don't think I need to explain that one.

But also I just like, whatever who cares if some of the songs on there aren't ones I 100% associate w what we want so here's the full playlist live your dreams. Most of them I associate at least a moderate bit. BUt under here is the fucking essay I've somehow written lmao I lost my mind somewhere along the way.

WHAT YOU GONNA DO??? By Bastille and Graham Coxon is first on the playlist for a reason. It's sort of like, similar to the rocking feeling of what being cramped on the subway was like to me? And it's a song that's pretty obvious with the lyric comparisons. The 'you' in the title IS you! What are you gonna do? You have us (Gotham, the world, the batfam) listening, so what are you gonna do with it? And it matches readers future response quite well I think. And it feels like something that a superhero would have in the background, which certainly helps.

Keep You Mine by NOTD and Shy Martin was actually just one of those songs you were listening to on loop at the time you were doing a thing, and then became intrinsically linked to that thing, but it still represent WWW quite well! It matches more so the later acts of the story, where you and the boys will have some issues staying together with eachother. But it's still poppy and romantic in tone!! Because you guys and your relationship, despite everything that'll happen, you want to keep each other y'know? And reader's like possessive and jealous in a cutesy way to offset how absolutely psycho bonkers the guys will end up being... But I also feel this too matches the superhero vibes? Somehow? The fight on of it... You must keep fighting, for each other!

Tinfoil Hat by Dolo Tonight is like,,, about the frustration of being a Gotham resident I suppose (or anyone living in late stage capitalism with a mental illness) but especially you! Since you totally fucking got ripped from one universe to another and um, i don't know if you've noticed this yet but... there seems to be some issues with readers idols??? Seeing as you love the waynes but hate the bats. Please duck under the comically large chekov's gun and come this way. Also because reader for a little bit does geniunely think she's crazy and need to go to the psychiatrist but obviously thinks that is the worst idea ever because the gotham mental health system is really just prison. and it's a prison with her nemesis. not the place to be.

Live, Learn, Die by Lavin is pretty obvious too, but in a much sadder tone. Reader as a character has at this point come to a conclusion that I'm sure many of us do in their lifetime (I know I have at least) which is that... things suck, and then you die. She doesn't want to die, but she doesn't really particularly actually want to live, she's just so damn focused on survival she's never actually even had the time to realise that. This other version of her who didn't have 24/7 adrenaline running in her body was obviously significantly worse off and seemed... off. If everyone you love is dead, is surviving for them even worth it anymore? She's still learning, so maybe she'll learn something different this time...?

Next song is a spoiler so skipping it <3! Lmfao interpret this however you'd like

Thelma + Louise By Bastille is a song about a scene that I am so damn eager to get to which unfortunately is in act fucking 3 which is my favourite but like. Suffering I am suffering :) Anyways I can't tell you too much about it because of but I will say that it's a road trip between you, Dick and Jason! It's very fun and absolutely no complex feelings are involved whatsoever. You meet Lucy the giant elephant (actual roadside attraction in new jersey lmfao). This song is Dick Grayson coded in like... mostly sunny vibes. Like the warmth the song gives, that's how you make him feel.

Temper Temper by LimeCordiale is a song that is about... you and Jason... and his poor poor habit of enabling you. 'Me and my girlfriend that I let do whatever she wants to me because shes hot' core. Bruce sees the two of you in the landing and gets immediate d10 psychic damage it's impressive. Anyways if anyone ever angers you (which I'm sure they never ever ever will :)) he's probably going to be there to back you up, because 'you know that that's what I like'. That video of you punching George is private time material frankly.

Next song is ALSO a spoiler which um. cough. 😳 let's not look too deep at this one actually folks

Werewolf By Quinn XCII. Ah yes, the yan in the yandere story. This one is ALSO about Jason but this is the most Jason coded song. I will say that this also features in the story at some point (you, Molly, Dick, Jason and some very poor suffering grunts). It's the lyrics. I've always said Jason is a loyal dog and I stand by it till the day I die. He also feels like a feral animal that constantly kind of wants to swallow you whole which is romantic I think <3 <4 But geniunely put that thing on a leash for the betterment of mankind. I mean you make them all feel like starving monsters Jason's the only one who has any self awareness unfortunately, which is why this is HIS song. Also because he'd be a werewolf, case close your honour. Dick'd be a vampire it's LITERALLY canon. WHat was I talking about

Ghosts by The 1975 got on here because I heard the first line and went 'hA!' because it really do just be 'You... You always seem to get what you want.' and also the "You seem to get better" is fuckin. IT'S SO GOOD MAN! That's EXACTLY what the guys are thinking when the next few chapters start coming around which. Really were supposed to be out by now whoopsie but yknow like. Anyways you ARE gonna start working on things!!! You're gonna talk to Molly!! You're gonna get more flowers!!!!! God damn it, you're gonna get what you want!!!!!!!!!!!!! (at least this first bit oop)

Next two are spoilers again, but this time you absolutely won't be able to guess because they're both animatic inside my own brain so take that! And I mean you REALLY won't be able to guess they're great scenes can't wait for you to see em. I can't wait either tbh why am I writing these stupid filler scenes lmao. why can't i skip to the end of my 200k enemies to lovers slowburn just to write the final chapter (did this to herself)

Together We're Screwed By Robotaki and Nevve is a song I've loved for ageeessssss bro because there is (to me at least) nothing more romantic than being a terrible horrible unredeemable person with the one you love. Hand in unlovable hand baby! That's like... the fic I guess, together the five of you are screwed. And it just matches that same earlier mentioned vibe of like... poppy kinda techno-y kinda superhero-y kinda loser-y. Listen to me, listen to me... This fic is about many things and I'll say it again and again and everytime it's true in a different way and this time it's true in this way. This fic is about being about being a loser and bad at everything and still managing to get what you want. Actually that might be what this fic is actually actually centrally about. 'We're both a mess, we just can't get it right. Together we're screwed. I'm looking at you, I'm looking at you~' like, be a mess!

And now we're at the exciting new

Birthday Party by AJR is like the equivalent of what would be a canon event for this au. Your birthday HAS to happen and it HAS to suck ass and all your family HAS to die on this day for some reason or another.. Some people told me when they had their birthday they thought of my fic and I was like damn bro who hurt you? /jk but really reader's birthday is kind of a reflection of... you know, everyone has at least one of those sucky as birthdays. And you've gotta paste on a brave face and pretend you don't want to cry and that it's all not too much and that for some reason you're disappointed and that the trudging march of time scares the shit out of you and that you haven't achieved anything this year and- You know? 'And that's just how it is.'

Okay I've run out of videos I can add but there are only two songs left so!! Ima finish this anyways.

Inertia by AJR is a song where again the lyrics speak for itself. Before you woke up in a slightly different world where everything was just slightly different, your life was stagnant. You were stuck, absolutely. Despite trying to break out of poverty, out of your circumstances, fortune simply wouldn't smile on you. And again, that other you seemed to reflect that stagnancy. She wasn't going anywhere either. In my head I see the two of you dancing like marionettes alone on your stages alone, unable to fight against the strings pulling at you. It's only till you start dancing with eachother, till the strings start tangling that you start getting any freedom. That you're able to start getting anywhere. Maybe being set off course was the best thing that could happen to both of you?

Something Just Like This by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay is a song that both me and my mum love, and also one very fitting to the superhero theme! And it's how ALL the guys feel about you!! You're really just a civilian, you're not that important in the grand scheme of things... But why do you like them? It's for such stupid reasons. It's because of the way Damian reads romance novels and Jason never properly tapes his nuckles and Dick has a stupid bleeding heart so he keeps taking too many hours at the Bludhaven pet rescue and Tim always fucking sends you the new york wordle, connections, crossword and spelling bee first thing in the morning and then asks if you want any help when he knows you want to do it on your own and- Every single moment of you is done with such love and sincerity and heart and they can't help but fall in love again and again and again. 'I want something just like this' is a phrase they'll say to you and you'll say to them too.

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 27

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 27: A friend tried a new wine and said it was bitter and not properly fermented. Sounds like sour grapes to me.

Crawly absolutely did not jump when the angel approached him from behind, he would have you know. That would be undignified and unbecoming of a demon who served as one of Hell's representatives on Earth, especially of one currently repping the home team in the Holy Land.

No, when Aziraphale came up from behind and said "Is that you, Crawly?" Crawly was absolutely as cool as a cucumber and his upward motion was like a cobra sitting up before striking. Hissing and spitting's part of what a cobra does too, and he's totally justified in that. Threat display, that's the word for it! It was a threat display. And the half of the full cup of wine he was drinking going down his air pipe and the rest spilling down his front while he reared and hissed was. Well. If you gave him a bit, he'd figure out how to make it sound cool somehow. Who built the human oesophagus this way, anyway? Bloody terrible design.

His brilliant, badass display was politely ignored by Aziraphale, who waited for him to finish with raised eyebrows. When he finally finished coughing, he cleared his throat and stood up straight, letting his rumpled robes fall in a rogueish manner as he took a deep breath and said, "No avaunt?"

Aziraphale giggled, which was just unfair. "No avaunt, I'm afraid. I just happened to be passing through and heard they make the most scrumptious honeyed pear tarts here."

Crawly remembered how Aziraphale had looked in that basement just a few decades ago, eating those ox ribs, and suddenly nothing in all of Creation seemed as important to him as Aziraphale getting those tarts and eating them right here, where Crawly could witness his ecstasy.

"Well," he said, "sit down and we'll get some then. Hey Maryam," he called to the waitress, raising his voice enough for her to hear him, "some honeyed pear tarts for the table. Put it on my tab."

He could feel her looking at him, burning a hole in the back of his head as he watched Aziraphale, who suddenly was all hands aflutter, "oh no, I couldn't possibly ask you to"s falling from his mouth.

"I'm the one who convinced you to eat in the first place," Crawly argued. "My treat."

"Well, if you put it that way," Aziraphale said, fluttering his hands one last time before settling down in the seat next to Crawly, close enough that they only just didn't touch. Crawly's entire right side felt like it was crackling with static electricity.

Maryam smirked at him as she brought out the tarts and refilled the wine, and clapped him on the shoulder as she left. She was acting so strangely tonight. Crawly wondered just what was up with her.

Aziraphale reached for a tart and Crawly forgot all about Maryam.

Crawly watched intently, ravenously, as Aziraphale daintily bit into the tart, catching the crumbs in his cupped hand. His bites this time were small, contained, polite. Nothing at all like the bestial ripping and tearing at the ox, but just as intoxicating. It was almost teasing, such table manners observed by a being Crawly knew could rip and tear into flesh, devour a beast in its hunger. When Aziraphale's tongue flicked out to wipe away a smudge of honey, Crawly's own tongue traced the same path, his mouth unusually dry.

Aziraphale finished his tarts and wiped his hands on a clean light-blue cloth that hadn't been there a moment before. Crawly's brain was still trying to catch up when he said, "Those were simply wonderful, but they leave my throat feeling rather dry," and looked significantly at Crawly's still-full cup.

"Changed your tune on wine, angel?" Crawly asked, his voice sounding a bit strangled even to himself.

"Well, not as such," Aziraphale said. "It's still the source of drunkness, of course, and must be consumed by humans in moderation."

"Course," Crawly agreed cautiously.

"But I think that... in light of what I've discovered of other human inventions," and a significant look that went directly to Crawly's gut, burning bright and hot, "I might be convinced to try it. Just a taste, of course."

"Course." Crawly's agreement this time was less cautious and more cautionary. "Have you tried drinking anything else before, angel? Water, milk?"

"I was rather hoping you might show me." And Aziraphale smiled, damn-bless-something him, eyes crinkling underneath and at the corners, the apples of his cheeks turning a rosy sort of pink.

"Well, I mean, you just," Crawly started, unsure of himself now that Aziraphale was watching him expectantly. "Take your cup like so, and kind of, half pour and half suck the liquid into your mouth, and then swallow it like... er, like food."

Aziraphale licked his lips again. "I wonder if you would be so good as to assist me, since it's my first time.." His voice was at least an octave deeper than normal. Crawly stopped thinking rationally, and might be argued to have stopped thinking at all.

"Er, like?" Crawly said vaguely, holding his cup toward Aziraphale. Aziraphale opened his mouth in an O and tipped up his chin. He looked for all the world like a penitent waiting for manna to fall to him from Heaven, or alternatively, a satisfied lover just cresting an orgasm. Aziraphale's eyelids fluttered closed.

Crawly couldn't not tip the cup against his lips, gently allowing a trickle of dark red past them, onto the angel's tongue, down his throat; couldn't not gently hold his hair to steady him, wiry curls soft against his fingers.

He brought it away after an infinity that only lasted a few seconds, heart thumping in his chest like he'd just run a marathon.

"Well," Aziraphale said, sounding hoarse even though he'd just drunk for the first time in his existence, "so that's what wine tastes of."

"Pretty much."

Aziraphale breathed for a moment, unnecessary at all but especially with how short and rapid his breaths seemed to be, matching Crawly's own. Then he frowned a bit. "It's so sour. Are you sure this is properly fermented and everything? This is what humans drink so much of?"

Crawly smiled, the tension he couldn't describe broken by the angel's prissiness. "The very same. It grows on you, and once you're used to it you can taste the notes, the different flavors in the different kinds of wine."

Aziraphale looked at the glass consideringly. "At what does this one have 'notes' of?"

"It's a fruity one, believe it or not. Reminds me of... well. Reminds me." Of Eden, he didn't say. That seemed a bit revealing. Not as revealing as whatever the fuck all that just was, but still. He figured some cards should stay close to his chest.

--

Author's note: This was inspired by all the authors who write 41AD fic where Aziraphale feeds Crowley oysters. I love you. Please keep writing those so I can read eighty billion more of them. I eat that shit up.