#except for the fact jon MIGHT

[3m-j4ys]

I've been given signs from the universe to listen to tma. good decision or will my brain be chemically altered AGAIN.

[dolphinbeartracks]

excuse me celia?? hello celia?? WHY DO YOU THINK YOU KNOW CHESTER?? and why were 'buried alive' and 'meat' the first search terms you thought of?? hello???

[theemporium]

YAYYYYY I FOUND IT FINALLY

hi love hope ur doing well

can i request 💛and no.16 with lando?

thank u sm i love ur work🤍🤍

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

16. massaging them

.

“Oh fuck, that’s the spot.”

You couldn’t help but snort, the noise joyful and bashful. “Shut up, I have neighbours!”

“Not my fault you’ve got hands crafted by the gods themselves,” Lando retorted, his words slightly muffled by the way he buried his face in one of your pillows. “It feels good. I might have to replace Jon with you.” 

“I’ll pass,” you laughed, shaking your head in amusement even if he couldn’t see. “You seem like a needy client.” 

He let out a high-pitched noise of complaint. “I’m a fucking delight, I’ll have you know.” 

“Yeah, that’s exactly why you barged into my apartment demanding a massage,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your words. 

It was only partially an exaggeration to the truth. 

With summer break in full swing, it meant that Lando finally had time to relax and step away from the crazy, intense world that is Formula One. It meant he had time to spend with his family and friends that he didn’t usually get during the season, even when they came to race weekends. It meant he could pretend to feel a little normal, even if his life was far from it.

Except for the fact he still had to train like a Formula One driver. 

Which he was insistent he could do without the help of Jon. He insisted the man deserved a break of his own, to enjoy his vacation before they had to return to Woking later in the month. He insisted he would be able to follow his routine without the man watching over him. 

And he could do it. He just forgot the aftermath of it all, which was how he came storming into your apartment after his latest workout, whining and complaining about how stiff and sore he felt. And somewhere in his complaining, you agreed to do Jon’s job for him. 

“People don’t complain this much about helping their friends,” Lando commented, turning his head to the side so his cheek was squished against your pillow and his words were no longer muffled.

“People also don’t sound like they are filming a bad porno when they are getting a massage,” you shot back, finding some pleasure in the way Lando’s cheeks burned pink at your words. 

“Please,” he huffed out, clearing his throat in bed. He tried to stay light-hearted, playful, jokey. He tried to focus on the banter, rather than the way your hands felt across his skin. “This isn’t even close to what I sound like in bed.” 

“I know.” 

“I sound so—” He paused, his brows furrowing as he processed your response before snapping his head back to look at you. “What do you mean, you know?” 

“Carlos was your teammate,” you shrugged, trying to bite back your smile. “And he was always in the room next to you in hotels. He’s heard some stuff.” 

“I—” Lando tried to speak but words failed him. Memories flashed through his mind, nights he had spent in his hotel room alone. Nights where his hand was wrapped around himself with you on his mind and your name on his lips and—

“I’m kidding!” You laughed, unaware of his internal dilemma as you pushed him back down on the bed, your hands smoothing along the backs of his shoulders. “Carlos didn’t hear shit. I’m just winding you up.” 

“Pfft, yeah, I knew that,” Lando laughed nervously, his heart hammering in his chest despite your reassurance. “Carlos wishes he knew what I sounded like in bed.” 

“More like you wished you knew what he sounded like,” you snorted. “Your crush on Carlos wasn’t subtle.” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, burying his face into your pillow once again. “My crush on Carlos. Totally. That was it.”

.

[mysaintkitten]

I fully forgot I had this .. so here’s a little something for y’all lol

prompt: Jonathan calls you up after having a few drinks

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), mentions of alcohol/intoxication, brief mentions of suicide, subby-ish Jonathan, phone sex, come eating

*not proofread & old as hell*

you’re abruptly awoken by the phone ringing. through squinted eyes, you peak at the clock sitting on top of your nightstand.

1:03 am flashes at you. who’s calling at this hour? you drag your body out of bed and trudge your way over to the living room where your home phone resides. once there, you drop to the couch and grab the phone, putting it up to your ear.

“hello?” you groan, you hear a small snicker on the other end.

“hiii babyyy!” they respond, clearly a little tipsy, you immediately recognize the voice.

it’s jonathan, your close friend, who had recently got placed into a psyche ward after attempting to kill himself. you hadn’t heard from him since he had told you the news. now here he is, ringing your phone at 1 am, while simultaneously dropping a “baby” bomb on you.

“jonathan?” you blurted, feeling yourself become a bit more awake, “what are you doing? why are you up? how do you even have access to a phone right now?”

he sighs into the phone, “me and toby sn- toby’s m’pal .. by the way .. we snuck out ‘n had a few drinks ..” his mumbles, “now ‘m allllll alone ..” he whines, dragging out the all to emphasize his loneliness, “oh ‘n about the phone .. since i’ve been so good they gave me a landline, cordless too, i mean they couldn’t give me a cord ‘cause i might wrap it around my neck, but it’s nifty!”

you roll your eyes. of course he’d do some shit like this. if it was any other friend, you would’ve told them bluntly that you’re not in the mood to talk, but jonathan was an exception right now. he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, and his comment about wrapping the cord around his neck grounded you back into reality. you decided to chat with him for a while.

“is that so?” you reply, “how’d the night go?”

“fun!” he bubbled, “oh m’god .. me and toby .. my friend .. we saw this piss drunk guy fall in the street!” he giggles while recounting the incident. you giggle with him, not so much at the story, but at the fact that he felt the need to reiterate that he has a friend named toby.

“that sound very funny, jon, but shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

he whines, “‘m not tired! plus i’ve been thinking about you .. that’s why i called .. wanted to hear your voice ..”

oh?

“why’d you wanna hear my voice? you miss me that much?” you joke, relaxing more into the couch. he hums, “jus’ like how it sounds ..”

“well. you woke me up, and i don’t think i’ll be able to go back to sleep, so you’re welcome to listen to my voice for a while.” you chuckle softly, not thinking too heavily about his intentions. he’s drunk, after all.

“hmm ..” he mumbles in approval, “can you jus’ talk? tell me about your day, love ..”

your brows furrow a bit at the request, but you oblige.

“i didn’t do too much .. just showered .. picked up a bit .. it was nice though.”

he groans quietly at you mentioning showering.

“mmh .. wards got no nice soaps .. i like how your soaps smell. always smellin’ so good ..” he murmurs, through the phone you can hear some minor rustling, but you assume it’s just jonathan drunkenly tossing and turning.

you laugh at his odd compliment, “you think i smell nice?”

“oh, i think a lot of you s’nice, darling.” he assures, his breathing becoming heavier

“what else about me is nice, jonathan?” you ask, thinking he’ll say something corny like your humour or your personality.

“that face f’yours .. gorgeous ..” he giggles and huffs, “‘n that body .. maybe it’s ’cause ‘m all alone .. ‘n a bit tipsy .. but i can’t stop thinkin’ about touchin’ you ..”

oh.

you’re not too sure what to say. you’ve been friends with jonathan for years, you would have never assumed that he wanted you that way. jonathan was very attractive, and you’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him in a sexual way before.

“jonathan ..” you reply calmly, “i think you’re just drunk and confused, how about we talk more tomorrow? you can call me when-“

he whines, “no, baby, ‘m sorry .. i’ve just wanted you .. for so long ..” he hums as his breathing becomes louder, “‘n now .. just your voice got me s’hard ..”

you pause, listening to jonathan, you still hear the shuffling and his breathing. occasionally he whines a few times, is he touching himself?

“jon, are you .. getting off right now?”

he chuckles, “s’hard .. mmh .. thought i might faint.”

you hate to admit it, but hearing jonathan’s neediness got you a little worked up. knowing he was hard just from your voice ignited some interesting feelings from within you.

as your mind is racing, jonathan speaks, “if i w’s there .. would y’touch me?”

your heart begins to pound, his words have become more direct. he’s not just rambling about how he feels, he wants to know how you feel. you slip one of your hands into your panties, feeling how slick you’ve become from jonathan’s words. you might as well get yourself off as well.

instead of answering, you flip the question. “i’m wondering what you’d do if i was there.” you laugh breathily as you gently rub your clit. jonathan whines into the phone, “god, baby, s’filthy. y’don’t even wanna know ..”

“tell me. i want to hear it.” you pry as you become more aroused, hearing jonathan moan weakly at his own thoughts.

“mmh .. wanna eat your cunt .. make y’come at least once on m’face ..” he groans, “wanna fuck you. raw. make y’shake ‘n cry from my cock. wanna make that cunt feel so so good.”

jesus. really didn’t take much convincing for him to spill his thoughts. you bite your lip at his words, hearing his fantasies made you blush embarrassingly hard.

“hm .. yeah?” you moan into the phone, rubbing your clit at a quicker pace

“‘n i wanna eat you again after my cocks been ‘nside you .. lick up our come ..” jonathan gasps, through the phone you can hear him fisting his now slick cock. “then i wanna kiss you when m’done ..” he adds, chuckling a bit.

“god ..” you sigh, “you are filthy.”

you’re finding it difficult to hold back your moans, you almost want jonathan to hear them at this point.

“you .. you got me all wet, jon ..” you admit a bit awkwardly, you’ve never had phone sex before, but you don’t think jonathan will notice.

he whimpers “are y’touching yourself, baby?”

“yeah .. yeah i am ..” you purr, sliding a finger inside yourself and moaning softly as you plunge it in and out.

“jesus, fuck ..” he huffs, “you rubbin’ your clit? or fingering yourself?”

“i’m doing both .. switchin’ every now and then ..” you coo, adding a second finger inside. you hiss slightly at the change, but your cunt quickly adapts and accepts the second finger.

“mmh!” jonathan moans, “s’hot, knowing you’ve got y’fingers all over that pussy .. you sensitive, baby?”

he’s really into calling you baby. although it feels foreign, you’re not opposed to it at all.

“yeah .. a bit ..” you chuckle breathlessly as you remove your slick fingers out and bring them back to your clit.

“oh, fuck ..” he whimpers loudly, “baby, baby, ‘m not gonna last- m’sorry ..”

you could tell from jonathan’s tone and desperate little whimpers that he was close, he didn’t need to tell you, but it’s kind of nice that he at least let you know.

“that’s okay, come jon. show me how good it feels.” you purr. he can’t physically show you, but he can verbalize it, and he does.

“mmf- fuck, baby, ‘m comin’-“ he moans loudly, you’re worried other people in the ward might hear him.

“that’s it, come on yourself jon, good boy.” you encourage, you’re almost surprised that you called him a good boy, you never expected that to slip out.

his moans dwindle into small little whimpers as he rides out the orgasm, huffing quietly once he’s come down.

“‘m all messy, baby ..” he giggles,

“poor thing, you gonna clean yourself up?” you hum to tease.

“mhm .. nice ‘n clean ..” he mumbles as you hear him making small sucking and licking noises,

“jon, are you licking up your come?” you nearly chuckle at him,

“well no one’s ‘ere to do it for me ..” he whines, continuing to lick away his come.

“jesus. dirty, dirty boy.” you scold playfully, toying with your clit again.

“‘m a dirty boy ..” he repeats while yawning, “dirty boy.”

“you tired?” you ask softly,

“mmh, yeah, little bit ..” he mumbles,

“how about you get some sleep and we talk more tomorrow, all right?”

“mmh.. but i wanna talk ..” he groans,

you laugh weakly at his determination, “i’ll be here tomorrow. trust me. get some sleep. we can talk when you’re more awake and sober.”

“fine .. g’night baby. sweet dreams.” he gives in, yawning again

“sleep well, jonathan.” you close before hanging up. as you place the phone down, you’re left with silence and your thoughts. you decide you might as well get yourself off, and you do, you come in your pants to the thought of jonathan’s whimpers and moans. then, you clean yourself off before heading back to bed.

—

Not to jinx myself … but I am currently writing. Send me good energy yall please

[fluffyfluffyscarecrow]

Rating hug hcs for my favorite rogues

Mr. Freeze 2/10. Though there are some exceptions, most versions of Freeze are fairly untouchable if you don't want hypothermia. Plus the cryo suit would be uncomfortable to hug. The two points are for the fact that Mr. Freeze is really sweet and would genuinely love to hug you back, he just kinda...can't.

Mad Hatter 6/10 but depends on if you like being squeezed, because Jervis is absolutely going to do that. He'll make you feel loved whatever it takes! (Plus he's touch starved and desperately craves affection)

Two Face Around the 6.5/10-9/10 range depending on who's fronting and what you prefer. Harvey's embrace is soft yet protective, while Two Face will literally just squeeze you. They are both really good at comfort and don't mind at all if you'd like to touch their scars or stroke their hair.

Bane 7/10 he loves hugs but sometimes he can be a bit aggressive. He's very understanding though and wants to comfort you the best he can.

Scarecrow 8.5/10. Jon was never really shown affection in his life at all, especially physical affection. He is very awkward and will just kinda stand there, you might even literally have to tell him he's allowed to hug you back. His hugs are very soft and gentle.

Riddler 9/10, he is so sweet and even though he may be awkward, his hugs are soft and loving, perfect for comfort.

Penguin 11/10 this man is built for hugs. He may be a mob boss but he's damn good at comforting people, and he actually likes being used as a pillow. He will let you hold him as long as you want, and he has super soft hair if you'd like to touch it.

[lafresnaya]

just spent 6 hrs memorising the basic anatomy of the ribs - SO WHICH RIBS DID JON REMOVE?? [tw anatomy]

so some facts that we know; we know he's alive because of Beholding powers, right? and also that the ribs were "something [he] won't miss" and that the second rib was a "weird one".

there are two possible interpretations of this last fact; it was covered in eyes, it was a different type of rib to the last one, or both.

PART ONE: "the weird one"

let's take this second fact to be true. this means that jon removed two separate types of ribs!!

Quick run-through - There are 12 ribs, and they're all attached to individual parts of the spinal cord. Ribs can be categorised into:

typical/atypical

true/false

bonus: 'floating' (11 & 12 only).

Naturally, it's possible that Jared got one each from either the typical/atypical or true/false categories above, but I think his specific mention of a 'weird one' that he isn't sure that he likes implies it's a floating rib.

Floating ribs are weird. They're not attached to the sternum (big bone at the front) or the costal margin (which connects ribs 7-10 at the front). They're also smaller - by quite a bit! And they would probably classify as 'non-essential' by Jon standards, for ribs. So that's one of them!

Now, which of the 4 floating ribs do I think it is? The thing about the ribs is that they have a few purposes. Like protecting other organs.

The bottom left ribs protect the liver (very very important organ!! basically all the nutrients you ingest go here! it also has like, 500 other jobs - not an exaggeration btw), and the bottom right ribs protect the spleen. Except that usually, the bones that protect the spleen, a very soft organ, are ribs 9-11.

So anyway one of the ribs is definitely rib 12 on the left.

What about the other one?

PART TWO: "something [he] won't miss"

Well, it's not ribs 11-12. It's something different.

SO, a break-down of which ribs he 'might not miss'. I can't lie, pretty much all of them are important. They all protect nerves and blood vessels & attach to at least something. Rib 12 on the left is maybe the only 'unimportant' one I could think of, and even then it helps to protect the subcostal nerve.

Ribs 1-2 are pretty important. It's almost definitely not those two. Likewise, 3-6 are important as attachments for the upper limb muscles, and also for protecting the heart. Rib 7 is kinda needed as an attachment for the rest of the costal margin as well, so the only options are 8-10, really.

But here's an interesting thing about the lungs!! Between the lungs & the diaphragm (& hence the liver, which lies right below the diaphragm), is a gap of about 2 ribs wide. It's called the costodiaphragmatic recess, and it's for your lungs to expand into when you breathe in (and they fill with air).

Depending on how far along the rib you are, it lies between ribs 8-10, ribs 6-8, or ribs 10-12. Which makes it roughly between 8-10. Now, remember that ribs 9-11 protect the spleen on the left, so we're staying away from those.

But rib 8? Rib 8 should be safe. What about right or left? Could be either. But in the interest of balance, I think that rib 8 on the right is my headcanon for Bone That Sat In Jon's Drawer.

It also has the advantage of being a 'typical' rib [ribs 3-9], so for those familiar with anatomy, it looks like a standard rib (but it will still be unrecognisable to those unfamiliar, such as ep 140 Basira).

Mystery solved :D

thanks for reading my tedtalk <3 here are some useful diagrams

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for @ratherbeme behind the cut; omega!Clark and hungry!Kon. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Clark just wants to help his pup, but sometimes he’s not sure Kon even considers himself his pup, even just as an objective fact. It’s one thing that Kon doesn’t want to nurse from him, but . . . 

But he also doesn’t want to nest with him, or anyone else in the pack. Doesn’t want to scent his room as a den. Doesn’t want to talk about vulnerable things with them or show them any sign of weakness or even ask them for help with his homework.

Clark–understands, obviously. Things like that can take time, especially when the last guardian that a pup had was demanding and abusive and didn’t care about them at all. Kon wasn’t born into their pack; wasn’t born into a pack at all. Of course it’s going to take time. Of course it’s going to be difficult. Be a process. 

Clark knows all that, but he still wishes he could just hug his own damn pup without worrying he’d upset him just by trying. Wishes he were better at this, if nothing else. More supportive. More patient. More . . . whatever Kon needs him to be. 

It’s not about what he wants. It’s about what Kon feels comfortable with. What Kon needs. Giving him space, letting him find his place and figure out what he wants in life, and just–not being too much for the kid. Not forcing anything that Kon isn’t ready for and doesn’t have any experience of. Every time he’s tried to just talk to the kid he’s scared him, and he just . . . 

He hates the way it feels, scaring his own kid. And it sure as hell doesn’t help anything, either. 

Clark had assumed that just being a normal pack around Kon would be the best way to help him settle in. Kon was never allowed to be a pup with Lex, after all. From day one he was expected to effectively function as an independent–but subservient–adult, and to communicate with and work with and literally fight for his life against actual adults. So of course he didn’t come to them knowing how to fit in with them, and Clark would never have expected him to. 

He’s still hoping that just letting Kon in close enough to observe their pack has been helping him understand what being part of a family is like and where he can fit in it without having to give him an endless list of rules and instructions that he might not understand or might take the wrong way or might make him feel controlled or like they thought he wasn’t smart enough to navigate the situation for himself or . . . 

Clark just can never just talk to the kid. He always seems to find a way to upset him whenever he tries, and then either Kon runs off or he pulls back himself, and it’s just–it doesn’t work. So–observation, he’d thought. Nothing that Kon could think was them pointing out flaws they were going to be upset with him over having, and not a big information dump that’d be hard for him to remember all at once. Kon and Jon haven’t quite worked out the dynamics of their own relationship yet, no, but Jon is still a perfect example of normal pup behavior for Kon to learn from, and seeing how he and Lois respond to Jon–that has to have helped Kon feel safer, hasn’t it? Seeing what they do when Jon makes a mistake, or brings home a bad grade, or just asks for something? 

Except it doesn’t seem to have, and Clark doesn’t understand why. Kon sees how they treat Jon, and sees how Jon treats them. But whenever they ask him the same questions they ask Jon, or offer him the same things . . . 

He needs to be patient, Clark tells himself. Kon’s still brand-new to the world, all appearances aside. Trying to push or rush him isn’t going to do anything but upset him, and possibly just ruin their relationship outright. So–patience, and time. Letting Kon come to them, and not pushing or forcing anything. Not demanding anything he isn’t ready for or comfortable with. 

Even during the times where all Clark wants to do is just curl up in his nest with the kid and scent him as his, and take care of him. 

However Kon would let him, at this point. 

He feels like he’s just going in circles in his mind, and it’s not helpful. Not helping. 

He just–he can’t seem to stop, after finally realizing how much the scent of his milk really has been putting Kon off. It just . . . 

It’s not about him. He knows it’s not. 

But it feels that way, when his own pup keeps running away from him every chance he gets. When he just wants to take care of that pup, and just . . . can’t. 

At least not the way Kon wants him to, anyway, which seems to be “not at all”.

[chasteandpregnantmale]

The immaculate conception of Michael Part 3

Part 3

Brother Aidan continued to expand at a fast rate.   The community tacitly recognised that he was eating for two so made sure he had that good bit more on his plate at meal times.   For this Aidan was very grateful as he was famished all the time.

Each monk had his own thoughts as to when the birth might be.   Brother Bernard was sticking with 3rd September though he had no idea if men would carry for the same period as women.   One of the more romantic minded brothers thought Aidan would give birth on his saint’s feast day.  The Feast of St Aidan was on 31st August.  Brother Aidan himself thought he would give birth on the Feast of the birth of the BVM - 8th September as that would have been as his dream was.   Then he had another dream which made him wonder.

Before he turned into bed that night he was looking at his 25 week belly and studying it closely.   He thought he could detect a bit of movement  but wasn’t sure.   He then dreamed that the Archangel Michael was carrying him in his arms.   His belly looked exactly the same as when he had been studying it early.   Maybe he would give birth at Michaelmas which is 29th September - though he realised that would mean he would be overdue.   Truth be told, he didn’t really care as long as the baby was fit and well.

When Brother Bernard was an OBGYN he always gave his patients a thorough examination at 26 weeks.   Brother Aidan was to be no exception.   The older brother was amazed at how the young monk’s body was adapting to his condition.   Yes he was big and carrying what would probably turn out to be a large child, but he seemed to be managing extremely well physically, mentally and spiritually.   He could see that Brother Aidan’s strong spirituality and conviction that this was the will of God was the root of his well being.

Brother Bernard felt strongly that Aidan should have the public prayerful support of the whole community.  He knew the Abbot had said they should carry on as normal as if one of their number wasn’t carrying a miracle child, but he felt at the very least, their community should celebrate the privilege of one of them carrying a miraculous child.

The Abbot didn’t take much convincing and so it was a few days later that the Abbot made the intention for the midday Mass the miraculous pregnancy of their community.   He made clear that the focus of the prayer was to be the baby bump not the brother and so he had Aidan sit on the altar steps with his robe parted so that all could focus on his belly.

Even though Brother Aidan knew that the mass was not about him, the fact that he had been chosen for this miracle to grow within him made him feel very humble that this great and wonderful new life was growing in him.   His sense of vocation grew even stronger.

Jan and Jon had been invited to the mass.   It was only Jan who attended as Jon couldn’t get away from his work.   She too had a noticeable baby bump but, as she explained afterwards, it was a fake one.   It was quite deliberate, partly because she wanted to share a bit of the surrogate brother’s experience but mainly because she felt a baby couldn’t suddenly appear if she hadn’t looked pregnant beforehand.   Even though she was wearing a 6 month belly Brother Aidan looked quite a bit bigger.

Over the previous month, since Brother Aidan’s pregnancy was shared with the whole community, he and brother John had grown closer together.   Having a bit of a belly himself, though nothing like the size of Brother Aidan’s now, Br John felt a certain empathy for him.   He was also fascinated with the fast growing bump which got visibly bigger every day.

It was now nearly a month after the mass.  By Brother Bernard’s reckoning Aidan was 29 weeks.   He had noticed the young brother had slowed down over the past couple of weeks.   It was especially noticeable when he walked but he was also getting slower with any physical movement.   He was developing a lumbering gait, though he wasn’t waddling - yet.   “Give him time” Br Bernard thought.

Brother Aidan was really noticing the weight in his belly now but he felt strong to carry it powered by the conviction that he was doing this for God, Jon and Jan.   His belly stuck out quite a long way now and got in the way of most things he tried to do.   One Tuesday Aidan was on the work rota to deep clean the showers.  This meant scrubbing the walls from top to bottom and to make sure all the fittings and shower trays were left gleaming.

He had to stand on steps to reach the top of the walls and get on all fours to scrub the bottom.   Br John came in while he was busy with this and noticed how difficult his young friend was finding getting up and down the steps.   He saw that it was particularly difficult for Aidan to get up in the confined space when he was on his hands and knees.   When Aidan slowly and awkwardly stood to greet John he noticed that the front of his habit over the bump was wet where it had kept rubbing against the wet walls.

Br John said nothing about that, and just had a normal friendly short conversation with Aidan.  Afterwards he went straight to the Abbot to ask if Br Aidan could be given lighter duties because he appeared to be struggling a bit.   The Abbot told him that he had already suggested this to the Brother but that he was adamant that part of his service was to continue as usual unless the work endangered the baby's health.  Bro Bernard had confirmed that the pregnant brother should do as much normal exercise as he could for as long as possible.

Tim was a regular visitor to the monastery.   He had been coming for years but since Br Aidan had joined the community nearly 4 years ago he tried to come several times a year, staying for a week if he could afford the time.   Tim fancied Br Aidan.   When he had stayed 4 months previously Tim noticed that the young brother looked a bit thicker round the middle but it was hard to be certain under the folds of the habit.   He was the only one who noticed at that time among all the visitors and brothers except Br Bernard and Aidan himself, of course.

Tim was shocked to see the size of Aidan now.   He couldn’t believe his eyes and thought Aidan must have a tumour of some sort to have a belly that size as, apart from his big hips (which were a big disappointment to Tim as he liked Aidan’s youthful slender ones) he was still skinny.   In fact, Tim thought he looked even thinner round the face than before.

Tim was concerned, not only that his sexy monk had very much gone to seed, but that there might actually be something seriously wrong with him.   He didn’t want to embarrass Aidan by talking about these things so we went to see Br Bernard as Tim knew he was the medical officer. 

Br Bernard was taken by surprise with Tim’s question about Aidan’s health but was amazed by the instant answer he was able to give.  They didn’t seem to be his words at all.   He explained to Tim that Aidan couvade syndrome.   He had been assigned as special chaplain to Jan & Jon who were at last, after years of trying, looking forward to the birth of their first child.   It was not uncommon, he said, for those close to the pregnant woman to put on a bit of sympathy weight.   Aidan is very close and has been praying constantly for them and now has an extreme case of couvade syndrome.   It is quite unusual but Aidan was quite fit and well.

Tim went away wondering if that was true.   He had never heard of Couvade and Googled it as soon as he got to his room.   He found pictures of guys who were suffering from it though even the biggest was nowhere near as big as Br Aiden.   Tim  just hoped that Aidan’s body would return to how it was.   Br Bernard knew that was never going to happen.   Br Bernard realised that the conversation with Tim had been a very helpful one.   If there were any further questions from people they could just reverse the roles of Aidan and Jan; one with a fake pregnancy and the other a real one.   He put this to the Abbot who, at the next evening meal, during the announcements told the whole community of what to say should they question Aidan’s ever growing physique.   Aidan himself took particular note of course.

Now when Aidan dressed each morning he was becoming increasingly aware that he was actively having to pull his habit over his bump and it was becoming quite tight.   He’d had another longer girdle since the one the Abbot gave him only a few weeks ago and reckoned he would need another soon.

The whole community had noticed that Aidan was filling his habit, including the Abbot.   He called the vesterer into his study one morning to ask him to issue Aidan with a bigger habit.   The vesterer said that there were no larger habits in Aidan’s height available and he was still awaiting an order of the habit material which was proving very hard to get at the moment.  The vesterer also pointed out that as they were now in July, Aidan only had a few more weeks before he gave birth.   It would be wasteful to make him a habit just for those few weeks.

The Abbot said nothing and nodded agreement but was thinking that it was very probable Aidan would soon be pregnant again, if the Lord was willing, helping Jon & Jan create their large family.  Instead he asked the vesterer for suggestions to which the vesterer replied that he could put gussets in the side seams.  They would be very obvious as he had no pieces of habit cloth of that size so they would have to be in another colour but, as the Abbot pointed out, it was their only option.   And so it was that Aidan’s habit was fitted with some large, bright yellow gussets.

It was only a few days after this that Jan & Jon visited.   They were astounded at how big their surrogate brother was getting and felt a little bit guilty that it was on their behalf.   They felt that they wanted to treat the young brother in some way.  They suggested to the Abbot that they take Aidan to their beach hut for a couple of days.   Brothers were often given little breaks by supporters of the community so the Abbot readily agreed.

Jon & Jan were pleased to have Br Aidan all to themselves for 48 hours and made a big fuss of him and the baby growing within him.   Jon was particularly demonstrative in his attentions which made Aidan a little uncomfortable.   He was glad when the 48 hours was over.

[disasterarea-podcast]

So given the writer’s strike, some people are concerned about their shows and movies being postponed or canceled, and aside from the fact networks have already BEEN canceling shows for no reason for years (I still maintain a healthy anger about what Netflix did to Sense8), I thought I would suggest some books on disasters you might want to read if you’re into that sort of history. Which you are if you’re here, I imagine.

Note: I’m suggesting these books because most books on disasters don’t get a huge audience, and so I recommend them because this sort of writing can be hard on the writer and requires a bunch of research. We throw so much money at true crime, we can spare a few bucks for the stories of people who died in disasters.

Also, please check with these with your local small bookstore or library. Amazon can be great, but let’s lend a hand to those who need us more.

Recommended books:

“The Circus Fire,” by Stewart O’Nan - This is one my favorite books on a disaster, because the whole thing creates a very vivid image of the circus prior to the fire in Hartford in July of 1944. There’s one specific line in the book which always makes me pause because it’s so affecting, about how everyone who escaped being able to hear the sounds of the animals screaming as they died - except all of the animals were out of the tent by then.

“The Only Plane in the Sky,” by Garrett Graff - This, I highly recommend you get on audiobook. It’s an oral history of the events of 9/11 with a full cast, and it’s incredibly affecting to listen to.

“Ada Blackjack: A True Story of Survival in the Arctic,” by Jennifer Niven - Ada Blackjack was a badass: flawed and weak at times, but hardy and steady when necessary. Half of her story is how she survived, but half is how she was exploited following her rescue. Both stories need to be known.

“Alive,” by Piers Paul Read - If you’re watching “Yellowjackets,” this should be required reading. If you’ve seen the movie adaptation from the 90s, there is WAY more you don’t know. The story of Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571 is a tough read, but a worthy one.

“A Night to Remember,” by Walter Lord - This is to disaster nonfiction what “In Cold Blood” is to true crime. It’s not a long read, but it’s a great one. Lord had the advantage of writing the book while many of the Titanic survivors were still alive and could give a very good description of what they went through.

“Dying to Cross,” by Jorge Ramos - I recommend this not just because it is good, but because it is timely. Nineteen people died in an un-air-conditioned truck as they were attempting to make their way into the states from over the Mexican border. It’s a horrific story, and one that humanizes an issue for whom some people need to be faced with the humans involved and what they go through.

“Bath Massacre: America’s First School Bombing,” by Arnie Bernstein - Harold Schecter also wrote a very good book on the Bath school massacre called “Maniac,” but I have a preference for this version. It’s a good reminder that schools in the U.S. didn’t just become targets in the last twenty years or so.

“Into Thin Air,” by Jon Krakauer - I feel like this is a gimme, but it’s a fantastic book from someone who was actually on Mount Everest during the 1996 disaster and knew those involved very well. I happen to like Krakauer’s work anyway - I even like “Into the Wild” despite my feelings about McCandless and his legacy - but it’s understandably my favorite.

“And the Band Played On,” by Randy Shilts - The one thing I will say is that Shilts’ treatment of Gaetan Dugas is *rough* to say the least and outright wrong on some points, God knows. But it’s still an amazing book, and if you come out of it not wanting to dig up Reagan and punch him a bunch I’m impressed at your restraint.

“Triangle: The Fire That Changed America,” by David von Drehle - The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire is one of the disasters I am most interested in, and I would argue this is the definitive book on the subject. Also, if this book introduces you to both Clara Lemlich and Frances Perkins … I mean, talk about badass women.

“The Radium Girls,” by Kate Moore - Look, I’ll say this. If you know of the Radium Girls, this is a great book on their story. If you don’t know, go in blind and prepared to be horrified.

“Red Famine: Stalin’s War on Ukraine,” by Anne Applebaum - Ukraine has always been a target. During the Holodomor, they were victims of one of the worst genocides in history.

“Midnight in Chernobyl,” by Adam Higginbotham - Like the miniseries? This is a great source for more information for what happened at Chernobyl and all of the ass-covering involved.

"Boston Strong: A City's Triumph Over Tragedy," by Casey Sherman and Dave Wedge - If you’re interested in the Boston marathon bombing, I really thought this book did a good job of connecting the stories of the victims, the authorities searching for the killers, and the killers themselves.

“Show Me the Bodies: How We Let Grenfell Tower,” by Peter Apps - As I understand it, Apps did a lot of covering the Grenfell Tower fire for the British press, and it shows. He provides a mountain of information, and you will come out of reading this book absolutely LIVID about what authorities allowed to happen in Grenfell and so many other council estates in the UK.

“Dark Tide: The Great Molasses Flood of 1919,” by Stephen Puleo - I feel as though the molasses flood gets treated like a joke a lot of the time, but y’all, twenty people died. That area of Boston was *wrecked*. The photos of the devastation are terrifying. Puleo treats all of this with the proper respect it deserves.

“In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex,” by Nathaniel Philbrick - Forget the movie. Read the book.

“The Great Influenza,” by John M. Barry - Want to read about the 1918 flu epidemic? Want to be mad that a hundred years later we didn’t learn a damn thing?

Now, that’s just a start. If anyone wants, I can always post photos of my disaster book collection on Kindle and next to my recording desk. Or if there’s a specific disaster you’re interested in, I may know of a good book about it you can read.

But just remember if SAG and the directors’ guild joins the strike too - there is so much out there to occupy your time until they come back. Entertainment work is work, and it deserves to be supported financially and fairly as such. Rock on, WGA. ✊

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

The Most Impossible Battle

Pairing: Young Robert Baratheon x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: soft dubcon, NSFW, gradual consent, rough sex

Words: 3020

Summary: Robert hated all Targaryens. Wise words from those close to him though make Robert Baratheon give in to the idea of taking (y/n) Targaryen as his bride.

By the Gods Robert, have mercy on the girl.” Ned pleaded but was immediately shut up by Robert’s roaring voice.

“Mercy?! MERCY?! Did that Targaryen whore’s brother show your sister mercy when he raped her?!! The Targaryen don’t deserve mercy Ned!” Young and callous, Robert Baratheon’s beautiful blue eyes were now tainted with his fury and anger. He stood a few inches higher above the his Stark brother. Even with that fact, Ned refused to stand down on the matter.

With a stone face, he goes on “Her brother is to blame. She has done nothing wrong.”

That made Robert scoff. “Except let the others escape. She’s fully aware of her family’s guilt. Have you so quickly forgotten what her father had done to your brother and father? The whole family is taint and should be eradicated.”

Yes, young (y/n) Targaryen had made sure her younger siblings were well out of harms way. At the moment she had been captured she had sent her younger brother Viserys and newborn sister Daenerys away on a cargo ship. To where, she refused to say. Brave, Ned admired that much about the girl. In that moment he was reminded so much of Lyanna. Brave, beautiful and stubborn.

Ned couldn’t let Robert execute her. He didn’t want anymore blood shed thanks to this stupid war.

He gives Jon Arryn a sideways glance, asking for his help. Jon Arryn, Lord of the Vale, purses his lips together for a moment. “Think rationally Robert.” The older man did always have a way in reining him in. Both men viewed him as a surrogate father and in that aspect resonated a great deal of respect. “Even though there were a great deal of people who hated Aerys, there an even greater many who loved Rhaegar and (y/n). Those supporters are already upset at the death of Rhaegar, as deserving as it was. But (y/n)? She’s but a sweet maid who has done nothing. Those families might do something hasty if you were to execute her.”

“Then I’ll kill them. I’m king now and if a see someone that isn’t obedient I can surely have them executed. The whole lot of those Targaryen loving scum.” Spitting he stomps over to a large window to look over his new dominion of King’s Landing. Hands splayed on the windowsill he glares out over the city.

“Be reasonable Robert.” Jon tries again. “That will just earn you more resentment from the people you now govern. Otherwise you’d be just like Aerys.”

That made Robert’s broad shoulders go rigid. The last thing he wanted was to be compared to the Targaryen king. No, he didn’t want to be anything like Aerys. “Then what do you suggest I do with the girl?”

The room was quiet for a moment, as if Jon was afraid to even say the solution. One encouraging look from Ned gave him the strength he needed. “Marry her.”

Ned gaped at the Arryn lord, he hadn’t been expecting that as a solution.

Robert spun on his heel, dark mane of hair flying as he did so. “Marry her? Have you lost your mind?!”

“Not as much as you have.” Jon speaks truthfully, staring down the young man who used to be his ward. “Think about it Robert. If you marry her, then those who still support the Targaryens will have no choice but to support you. She’s well loved among the people. That would give you good reception, having her as your bride.”

Gritting his teeth, his blue eyes narrow. “No. Never. I will never marry her. It would be a disgrace upon the memory of Lyanna. Lyanna was who I was supposed to marry. And now because of that Targaryen bastard, she’s dead.”

“What’s done is done Robert. You cannot turn back time. But you can attempt to move on.” He tries to sound a little sympathetic. Robert had been deeply in love with Lyanna, but even Jon Arryn knew that his love only ran so deep. It hadn’t stopped Robert from sleeping with dozens of other women.

Sighing, Ned places a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “He’s right. You’re king now. You must do things that you don’t necessarily want to do. Keeping the peace by marrying her… It needs to be done Robert. There is still unrest all throughout Westeros. Her father and brother may have been bastards, but she was beloved by all the realms. It would do you good.”

“Damn you Ned. Damn you and your sensible words.”

*

Were they okay? You hoped Viserys didn’t lose his temper with the newborn Daenerys.

Your fingers made circles in the dirt that you called your bed.

They should be safely out in the open water. People would have a hard time finding that ship.

Fear and worry and the echo of Viserys pleading with you to go with them. But there wasn’t any time. Not for you at least. You had to delay Robert’s soldiers. That was the only way that the ship would be able to leave the port in time. Daenerys’ shrill cries still haunted you as you stared at the walls of your cell. You never thought in a million years that you would wind up there, in the dungeons of your ancestors.

You didn’t know what would be worse, you rotting away in the dungeon or Robert Baratheon having you executed. You understood why all this had happened, you weren’t that much of a naive girl. True you had been sheltered most of your life, you knew how the world worked. Your brother had been a fool. It was his fault for stealing the Stark girl although you didn’t believe one bit that he had raped her. That was not in Rhaegar’s nature. Neither was war. Now you were paying for the price of it. You knew that if the soldiers had caught Viserys he would have been as good as dead. He posed a threat to the usurper as now being the next in line for the Iron Throne. The last male heir of Aerys. What would your fate be?

You hadn’t anticipated marriage being an option.

Guards had dragged you out of your cell, filthy and stumbling as your eyes tried to adjust to the bright light that suddenly blinded you. You were lead to the reception hall that was once filled with the skulls of your family’s dragons. There in the back, commanding authority was the Iron Throne. On it now sat an imposing Robert Baratheon. It was an odd sight for you, seeing a man that wasn’t your insane father on the throne. One that lacked the Targaryen violet eyes and snow white hair. Robert’s thick hair clashed against your own; violently dark opposed to your gentle silver tresses. He looked every part of king, much more than your father did. During the last few years, Aerys��� body had begun to deteriorate greatly as his body thinned and became frail. Not Robert. His body was taught with muscle, ready to strike. His thick beard betrayed his young age, making him look so much more older than you knew he was. The new King of Westeros.

You had thought you were there to hear your death sentence. What came out of the stag king’s mouth nearly made you lose balance.

“I will take you as my queen. You have no say in the matter and will act accordingly unless you want to meet the same fate as your brother and father.” Stating with no compassion in his heart, rich blue eyes glare at you. “It seems fitting since he took my bride away.”

Opening your mouth you realize you didn’t know what to say. Surely you could oppose but what would that do to help you? From his voice it was clear that the last thing he wanted to do was marry you. The feeling was very much mutual. Even though your brother had been an idiot and had been in the wrong, you still hated Robert for killing him. You realized you might want death rather than this. To have to bed the man that killed Rhaegar… It made you sick. Rhaegar was an idiot, but he was your idiot. Dozens of memories resurfaced that nearly had you weeping.

“I… I am to be your bride?” The words were laced with venom. “A usurper’s queen?”

If he hadn’t been perched on the throne you knew he would’ve slapped you. Instead you noticed the subtle whitening of his knuckles as he gripped at the throne. “Watch your tongue, whore. You should be grateful that I don’t crush your skull in with my hammer.”

Dragon fire flushed your face. “I would rather you do that than subject me than your disease ridden cock.”

There was a collective gasp in the hall. A beloved princess you were, but that didn’t mean you let people step over you. You were blood of the dragon after all.

“Your grace,” broke in a voice next to you. A solemn looking man took to your side. The sigil of a direwolf displayed proudly on his vest. “Please, I know this must be difficult for you but it is the best course of action for you to take. You’ll still have your life and your people.”

“And what of my respect? My dignity? I lose all that to the Baratheon usurper.”

In a more hushed tone, the young Stark lord bends a bit to whisper in your ear. “I promise to you, if you go through with this I’ll make sure your siblings remain safe. To the old Gods and the new, I swear that they won’t be harmed.”

You soften. The Starks kept good to their word, everyone knew that. How could you say no when it ensured the safety of your siblings?

“Okay… Okay.”

*

By the Gods she was beautiful. Disgustingly beautiful with her Targaryen traits. Robert hated it. Hated her and her entire family. But he couldn’t deny her beauty. Especially when she stood there in front of him, her Targaryen cloak around her shoulders about to be replaced by the Baratheon yellow and black. She looked every bit a queen should. Full pouting lips, dark eyelashes that kissed at her cheeks when she fluttered her eyelids. The trail of her neck that led down to a prominent collar bone (probably from having been denied food for days).

It should have been Lyanna there in her place. Jon Arryn was right in one thing though, he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t dream of mending the past. Nothing would bring Lyanna back to him. Robert would take Rhaegar’s sister as retribution; watch the fallen prince turn in his grave as he married her.

Robert couldn’t deny his immense attraction to her though. More so now that she stood in front of them in their wedding chambers. The Bedding Ceremony was about to commence. Violet eyes hold onto blue as she stands her ground.

“Turn around.” He growls out. “I don’t want to look at your face.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” She hisses back and turns around. Her silver hair had been done so meticulously in luscious braids and curls that even Robert couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her hair. Catching himself, he gives it a good yank making her suck in breath at the pain. His other hand goes to the laces on the back of her dress, easily ripping them to reveal her flawless, bare, back. Such beautiful skin. Robert’s fingers glide along her back before tearing off the rest of her dress so that it pooled around her feet. (y/n) continues to stand tall with her back straight. Grabbing the back of her neck, Robert bends her over the bed so that her face was pressed into the mattress; her small hands curled tightly into the silken bedsheets. Preparing for whatever Robert had planned for her. Surely she must know what he would do. Treat her as harshly as Rhaegar must have treated Lyanna. His thick thigh pushes her legs apart and Robert nearly sighs at the sight. The sight of her exposed and bent over was enough for him to salivate over. What a beautiful cunt she had. Possibly the most beautiful he had seen. He wanted to run his tongue along her slit and taste her.

(y/n) struggled slightly to move her face into a better position for her to breathe. As she did so she unconsciously wiggled her ass, an ass that begged for a smack.

That’s just what he did. Reeling his hand back and smacking her ass. “Stay still.” A vivid red handprint starts to bloom on her rear. His large hand grabs her pussy and with his fingers spreads her lower lips apart in preparation for his cock. He was a little bit too excited to fuck her. He shouldn’t have felt the thrill of it rush through him. In the end he was just as weak as any other man. As much as he wanted to be rough, he also wanted to enjoy it. Ever so slowly he pushes his cock inside of her inch by inch. Each slow movement of him entering her made (y/n) tremble and dare he say, even moan a little bit. Finally he was completely sheathed inside of her. Robert let his head roll back, eyes closing at the sublime feeling of her wonderful cunt. It was unlike anything else he had felt before. And he had fucked many maidens. Many virgins as well. None had felt quite so good though. His pace was slow at first, enjoying each contraction her cunt made as he slid his cock in and out. Using his hands, he tilted her hips up even more and hitting the right place, (y/n) lets out a shaky moan. It made him pick up the pace and pound into her. The sound of his pelvis smacking against her ass as he went balls deep into her was maddening.

“Fuck.” His deep voice groans out. He wanted to see her face. Wanted to see her tits as he fucked her senselessly. With such ease he flips her onto her back. (y/n)’s face was incredibly red now that she faced him. She was trying to glare at him but once Robert slid back into her, her eyes rolled back into her head. Crying out as he rammed into her over and over again, so much so that it made her tits bounce. Robert wraps his fingers around her slender neck putting the slightest pressure; tightening his grip little by little.

*

Fuck

Fuck

FUCK

It was becoming hard to breathe but that was the least of your worries. The sight of Robert, his barrel chest and taught abs fucking you was too much to bear. Hard lines of his muscles twitching as he tightened his fingers around your neck.

Why did it feel so good? He was basically fucking you like a whore. You were a pureblood Targaryen and deserved better. But you found yourself enjoying his harsh treatment. You wanted him to get rougher. You wanted him to pound harder into you so that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Head becoming light and warm, something else was happening. You felt a tightening below. The more he fucked you, the tighter the coil seemed to get until…

No. You didn’t want to be the first one to come undone. You didn’t want him to know that you were actually enjoying it. At the rate he was going though it was only a matter of time.

To take back control you launched yourself at him, catching him by surprise and his hand releasing from your neck. With your surprise attack you wrestle him so that he was now the one under you on the bed. His cheeks are red, eyes hard as he regards you with question. His about to protest until you sit yourself down on his cock. Protest devolving into a groan he lets his head fall onto the mattress as you roll your hips. You place your hands on his hard chest. Bobbing up and down his cock you try to ignore your cunt begging for release. Curling your fingers, you dig your nails into his chest and drag them harshly down. His face scrunches up, baring his teeth and hissing. Hands reaching around you to grab at your ass, he pulls you quickly up and down. You wouldn’t allow him to be in control for too long though. Again you dig your nails and drag them. Robert releases your ass and glares up at you. Beautiful blue eyes. Your own little hands reach to his thick neck and tighten like claws of a hawk. Using that as support you lift yourself off of his engorged member and start to tease the head of his cock. Slowly, torturously slow, you barely sit down enough for the head to be sheathed before coming back up. Your husband growls impatiently, wanting you to go back to riding his cock. You’re just buying yourself more time and shortening his. That’s when you sit all the way down on his cock. His mouth gapes open as you ride him. His breathing become hard, his hips desperately thrusting to match you.

You feel his body lock up underneath you as he lets out a loud groan.

The two of you were frozen in that position, trying to regain your breath. You had won. At least this battle. A bit unsteadily you lift yourself off of him; something warm and wet dribbling out. Smuggly you lay down beside him and stare at the ceiling, the space between your legs upset with you that you denied yourself your own orgasm.

“Well fuck.” Robert pants. Lazily he turns his head. “You didn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t dare grant you that satisfaction.” You roll away from him and onto your side.

Determined to prove you wrong, Robert’s hand lands on your shoulder and rolls you onto your back. “Fuck that noise. I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you’ll see stars.”

[ragnarokhound]

Ooh what about...Teacher au, actor au, and pokémon au. Ships open to whatever but jason in them preferred 👀

For the AU ask game!

THESE ARE ALL SO GOOD, YOU ARE CRACKING ME OPEN LIKE AN EGG (like with a previous ask i might answer one and then maybe circle back with a reblog or smth to answer the others fjdlsaja WE'LL SEE IF I HAVE TIME TODAY) and I'm jaytim til i die so that's what i'll be speculating on for the most part lmao

Teacher au... oh the hot gossip that would fly in that staff lounge...

Five fun facts about a teacher au I'd write:

Jason teaches either english or drama. Or maybe he would teach drama IF admin hadn't fucking cut the drama program last year and left them to organize a club instead. "there's no funding" they say, and yet the basketball team is getting all new equipment, all new buses (not even district-assigned! their OWN BUS), a whole new fucking facility--

Tim is the basketball coach. (He teaches math/comp sci/engineering). Drama ensues.

(The basketball team went to state last year Mr. Todd, sorry if success means getting more interest and therefore funding from the community, but maybe there's a lesson to be learned here) (>:0 he did NOT)

Principal Wayne doesn't play favorites (except he totally does, Principal Grayson at their sister school in Blüdhaven applied for that job specifically to get away from the bullshit. He wishes he could have sniped Babs as his office manager, but she's too entrenched. RIP) but Tim is obviously Bruce's newest, shiniest hire and after Jason came back from medical leave (motorcycle accidents suuuuuuck) he's extremely miffed to see what's been changed in his absence

Real conflict would take place when one of Tim's star players tries out for the school play and gets the lead role because Jason can see that this kid has talent AND THEY NEED THAT. (Drake is, unfortunately, correct; if they can take their production of Chicago to the National Drama Festival, then maybe they'll get the support they need to reinstate the drama program. Or whatever. UGH) Tim is pissed because this kid has a shot at playing professionally and this could fuck his chances if he's not giving his A-game during championships this year. Cue no longer passive but rather outright aggressive arguments between Mr. Todd and Mr. Drake BOILING with sexual tension while, idk who, Jon Kent probably Does His Best to be a teenager lmao

(BONUS FUN FACT: they 100% fuck in their hotel at Dramafest, because of course the drama club made it, and of course Mr. Drake came along. To support his student, obviously. And not at all because Tim saw the play that winter to support Jon and saw how good he was and Jason got in his face about it after the show and all the tension from the whole semester boiled over and they made out backstage like they were teens themselves again. Not at all. That would be unprofessional and irresponsible.)

[rubykgrant]

(Segment of my story, How It Feels, with Jon and Martin recovering at Daisy's cabin after leaving London, and before the Eye Apocalypse happens. This in particular focuses on Martin, how he's changed since being in the Lonely, and how he is also still himself. This involves tooth loss and feelings of depression/disassociation, but isn't gory, and leans more toward being comforting. Inspired by the art of @lonelyslutavatar ~)

Jon is quite proud of himself for responding to Martin in a very calm manner, instead of rushing in and assuming the worst.

The calm quickly shatters when he sees Martin standing in the bathroom, face a mix of embarrassed and worried, holding two teeth in the palm of his hand.

Several teeth-related horror stories from past statements flash into Jon’s mind (the apple, a few dozen about some sort of “evil tooth fairy” that were probably not real but still upsetting, and several connected to the Flesh and the Hunt). Jon nearly starts to panic as well, but somehow he composes himself, and moves slowly, helping Martin sit down on the lid of the toilet, and begins trying to figure this out.

Martin has some pain in his jaw, but nothing feels “broken”, and there isn’t any blood. The teeth look “fine”, except for the fact that they aren’t where they should be. Jon asks Martin to open his mouth, and it doesn’t appear as if anything is infected or irritated. To be thorough, Jon runs to get a small torch.

“I’m VERY close to freaking out! Just so you know!” Martin says, loudly.

“Yes, I’m- I’m sorry, I’ll be there in a-”

“ANOTHER ONE JUST CAME LOOSE!” Martin is able to spit it out before yelling the news to Jon. He does NOT want to swallow any of his teeth.

“I’M COMING BACK! HERE! HERE I AM!” Jon stumbles to a stop at the small door, and walks back in carefully.

This time, Martin opens his mouth WIDE, and Jon shines the little light to see properly.

“Oh,” Jon says after a moment.

“Oh? Oh, WHA?” Martin asks, making sure his mouth doesn’t close.

“Oh, um… I sort of see the- er, the issue?” Jon answers, without actually giving Martin a real answer.

“Wha ih ih?” What is it?

“Well, I can see the empty areas, where your teeth were, and… it looks like something is, er- pushing them out?” Jon elaborates. Martin finds this description unhelpful and worrisome.

“UH HUH UH AH EEE?!” The fuck does that mean?! Good God, what was in his mouth?

“Sorry! There are NEW teeth coming in! Like- like when we lose our baby teeth, and-”

“I AREHEE AH I AHEE HEE! HOW OOH I HAH OR!?” Martin demands, and after a brief second of trying to translate it in his head, Jon realizes Martin has just said- “I already lost my baby teeth! How do I have more!?”.

“Uhh…” before Jon can say anything else, two more teeth fall out, helped by Martin’s attempts to talk. These were from his top row, on the left side. They completely leave Martin’s mouth, and land in his lap. Martin groans, irritated. Jon tries to speak again, before something else distracts him. “If- I had to guess, which is all I’m doing, I’m sorry, this- this might be like your OWN spooky puberty?”

Martin groans again, giving Jon a glare.

“You were working with- hell I’m just saying his name, Peter, you were working with Peter for a while, and before that you were working at the Institute. That changed all of us, a little bit, but Peter really pushed you along, and… what finally made me change and become something more than just human was- I died. Sort of. When I was in that coma, I was pretty close to being dead, but then I came back. You were… you were almost ready to fade away when I finally found you, and then you came back. I think you might have become something more than just human,” Jon pauses a moment, to let Martin have a chance to understand what he’s saying… and because another tooth falls out. “And we saw what happens to ME when I don't feed on any statements, so… you haven’t been doing anything at all when it comes feeding what you are connected to,”

Jon places his hand on Martin’s cheek and turns off the torch, letting Martin know he can close his mouth again. Martin does so, and then immediately gives an angry huff, spitting still another tooth into his hand. He gathers up the rest in his lap, so he’s holding all of them together.

“What the hell. The isn’t FAIR. Your- your eyeballs didn’t fall out when YOU changed! And why my TEETH?! Am I supposed to start eating people? Peter didn’t even do that!” Martin blinks a few times, uncertain. “I mean, I never SAW him to that…”

“This might not be so LITERAL. I doubt this is a sign you need to actually eat anybody-”

“Pff, whatever, you don’t KNOW…” Martin scoffs.

“What I mean is- sometimes when people like us change, it isn’t always straight-forward. This might be more… like it symbolically represents the way loneliness can, er- consume you? Eat you up?” Jon is leaning back against the wall opposite Martin, arms crossed anxiously. He hunches his shoulders up, as if to shrug in a way that asks for approval.

Martin does not exactly “approve”, but unfortunately, he’s beginning to see that Jon may have a point. He also remembers that nightmare he had, as if it had been some kind of “punishment” for rejecting the Lonely. The fact that Martin can now remember Peter purposefully pulling him into the Lonely to avoid true and permanent death added up as well. Did the Eye punish Jon when he wouldn’t feed it new fear? Yes, he supposes so.

“Wonderful. So my teeth are falling out as a METAPHOR. And what am I even supposed to DO about it? Read statements that are relevant to feeling forlorn and isolated?” Martin now feels THREE teeth pop loose. Great. More to add to the collection in his hands.

“Perhaps not…” Jon ventures another guess. “That’s sort of the specific thing I’m stuck doing. And it started even before the coma, remember? So maybe- was there anything you did while working with Peter that might have been related to feeding this particular kind of fear? It might have even been something that seemed almost normal, but the more it happened, the more it had an affect on you, and when you stopped, you felt strange?”

Martin’s first reaction is to just say NO, because he’s in an ornery mood (Why shouldn’t he be moody? His teeth are falling out! He has a right!). Instead, he tries to give Jon’s question some real thought…

When Jon was still in the coma, and Peter first became the “new boss”, Martin had initially tried to take on more responsibility as a way to shield other people from the problems that came from working so closely with… a man like that. The most unnerving part was how pleasant Peter seemed. He often asked Martin to come along as his personal assistant when he went on various errands; some were clearly for meeting with other unusual people part of the whole Fear situation, while others were part of the more normal side of business for the Magnus Institute.

These people, in either situation, would usually not even acknowledge Martin at all until Peter made a point to turn to him, ask a question or make a request, and then they’d startle to see there was a WHOLE man there beside Peter. When Martin got more used to it all, he’d speak up on his own, blatantly pointing out when somebody was giving Peter incorrect information or outright lying. In those moments, they were not only surprised that Martin existed, they were suddenly INTIMIDATED by him.

Peter was very amused by this, and proudly complimented Martin on being so “accomplished”.

Yeah, that may have been how this started.

Martin was well practiced at going unnoticed, keeping quiet, fading into the background. That was a good way to keep yourself safe. It was also a good way to be lonely. The shock of suddenly being given attention no doubt fed Peter’s patron Fear plenty of Martin’s own nervous energy… and when Martin did it on purpose, making himself known with an aloof sort of confidence, it caused unease in other people. The Lonely probably loved feeding on all that.

That was the start… but what turned it into a pattern, something that Martin had to continue doing, and also something that he did without thinking about it?

It finally occurs to Martin that what was happening when he first left the Lonely might be a hint; the sleepwalking. That never happened back in London, not exactly. However… very often, when Martin left the hospital after visiting Jon, or took a break in the evening in the middle of working late, he would walk through the city and let his mind wander.

No, that was putting it mildly. He’d feel a growing disconnect from his own feelings and thoughts, and whatever remained gave him a sense of bored contempt, if anything.

He blended into the crowds, but still wasn’t “part�� of it all. Martin remained separate, even in the shared experience of riding the bus or waiting for a light to change.

Occasionally he would pop into a store and use the self check-out lane, or even a bar with no intention to mingle or drink, and he would go unnoticed.

All around him, he would see people talking to each other, or chatting on calls, crying over break-ups, getting into arguments, lying about what they were doing, waiting to meet somebody who wasn’t coming, staring at displays in stores of things they longed to buy but couldn’t afford, getting frustrated after searching for a job all day, trying to be funny for friends or deal with a stressful visit with family… Martin could nearly picture himself, as if looking on from another point of view, and he was nothing but a nameless face on the street.

Obscure and forgettable. Martin would walk on, automatically, no effort in reaching his destination. It was eventual and certain. He may as well be a memory, instead of somebody who was still there.

Then he would be back at the Institute, or at home, and his thoughts would click back into place. Maybe he’d take a shower, or have something to eat. If it wasn’t too late and he was done with research or paperwork, he’d watch something on TV. It was alright. Mostly.

In the current situation, with Martin sitting on the toilet in a bathroom of a safehouse in Scotland, trying to figure out why he’s losing his teeth… he thinks that he’s finally connected some dots, and sees the bigger picture.

“Yeah… well, um- I guess maybe when I would walk around London and sort of lose myself in groups of people, without interacting with anybody, that was possibly like feeding on loneliness. So. Maybe I just need to do THAT again,” Martin looks up at Jon again, now the one checking to see if what he’s saying makes any sense.

“Hmm… it might work when you go out to buy us supplies. You’ll be around people again, and- whatever lonely feelings they have,” Jon nods, though he doesn’t look happy about it. That’s fine. Martin isn’t happy, either.

“What if I… Jon, when you got REALLY bad, you compelled people to talk about things when they didn’t want to. What if I VANISH somebody? What if I can’t control this?” Martin asks, and as soon as he closes his mouth, he has to spit three more teeth into his hand.

“That is upsetting, I know…” Jon replies, reaching out one hand to place on Martin’s shoulder. “But, listen- a few days after I started to really try and rein myself in, one of the people I compelled actually showed up at the Institute again. I was… well, I- erm…”

“You were outside, sneaking a smoke,” Martin guesses.

“Yes, FINE. Anyway, I thought they were still having problems because of me, and I immediately apologized and assured them it wouldn't happen again. I was honestly sort of distressed about that, I didn’t want to go find everybody I had compelled, because seeing me might just make them even MORE afraid, but I still wanted to say I was sorry… well, this person told me they only came there to explain they weren't angry with me. They didn't forgive me exactly, but-,”

“What, they wanted to rescind what they said before? Like, withdraw the complaint?” Martin raises his eyebrows at this.

“Something like that. They told me… they weren’t having nightmares anymore, about me OR what I made them talk about. It had faded after a while. They also told me that it sort of helped, in a weird way, to finally confront something they’d been ignoring for so long. And now they knew, the world had scary things in it, that was REAL, and they weren’t crazy for wanting to be careful…” Jon sees Martin wants to jump into the conversation, but has to pause to catch another tooth that has escaped. Jon continues talking, knowing what Martin was going to ask.

“The reason I didn’t say anything at the time- I didn’t want it to seem like I was making excuses. Oh, this person says the nightmares stopped and they faced their fears, this means nobody should be mad at me anymore! Hell, no. I still forced people to share private thoughts and experiences against their will, and that wasn’t right. I’m only telling you this NOW because I’m hoping that you being around people in public, absorbing whatever you need, THAT will be more like when I read the statements. The fear and the hurt already happened. You aren’t making it worse. If you keep ignoring this hunger, then… it will most likely get more intense, but even if that happens, you still might not vanish somebody to death. People even escaped from what Peter did, occasionally. I just don’t want you to feel… hopeless,”

“OK… yeah, OK. This is still pretty fucked, though,” Martin says, trying to steady his breathing.

“Yes. And it will probably continue to be fucked. But we can try to help each other feel better,” Jon smiles down at Martin, and somehow, that makes a tense knot in his chest loosen.

Jon waits with Martin as the last few teeth come loose, and gets a small glass jar for them. After some “Should I leave them under my pillow?” jokes, Jon grabs the small torch again to see what the situation is with Martin’s new set of teeth…

“You really don’t feel them growing in?”

“Uh-uh,” Martin may not physically feel the teeth coming into place, but he has noticed that the ache in his jaw is gone, and the weird grinding has stopped (that was probably his weird new “spooky” bones making room for his weird new “spooky” teeth. This sounded like such a stupid problem when he thought of it that way, but there just wasn’t a better term unfortunately).

“Well, they’re almost all here, and- they’re sharp! Martin, your new teeth are POINTY!” Jon uses his hand not holding the torch to tilt Martin’s head back slightly.

“WHA? LIE A HA-HIRE?” What? Like a vampire?

“No, not like that… you don’t have fangs, exactly… oh lord, I can see them rising up!” Jon says, and now Martin is starting to get annoyed that he sounds EXCITED about this. “They’re wider, and sort of flat… Martin, I think these are like- like shark teeth!”

Jon has set the torch aside, and is now holding Martin’s head with both his hands, leaning him back even more so the light from the ceiling shines into Martin’s mouth. Jon is pushing aside Martin’s upper lip to see the teeth as they move through the gum better, and that is IT, Martin is DONE.

“GEH YER FEE-HERS OW UH I OW!” before Jon can translate that into “Get your fingers out of my mouth!”, Martin actually SNARLS as a final warning, Jon whips his hands away, and just to be dramatic, Martin CHOMPS his mouth shut.

His new teeth are officially finished growing in; all the severe ridges fit together. Sharp, solid, and strong.

Shark teeth... really? Was that just the Lukas Brand? Martin has to turn half-way into a SEA MONSTER? For the aesthetic?

Jon knows Martin wasn’t actually going to bite him… and Martin knows that Jon knows this. Which is why Jon still looks more fascinated than afraid of Martin’s new MONSTER TEETH, and that just makes Martin want to try and snap at him again. Jon can see that as well, and he starts to snort laughter. Martin wishes he was strong enough to stay furious, but the corners of his mouth betray him, curving into a smile.

Yep. All his human adult teeth fell out, he’s got weird spooky shark teeth now, he’s damn near close to laughing about it. He must be mad. Oh, well. So is Jon.

[syndrossi]

So a while back i pitched a Jon becomes a mystery knight and wins a tourney wearing armor covered in wolves. How would that event play out in a Reversal AU with female Jon/Jeyne? Would she end up jousting against Aemond and how does he feel about that/does he recognize her fighting style before the reveal?

I feel like Jon/Jeyne would be less into jousting and more interested in the melee contests, along with horse-racing events. But she also can't really reveal herself without getting herself into trouble, since only knights (with some exceptions for equivalent men honoring the old gods) are permitted to participate. Aemond would probably recognize her fighting style, and might try to use that knowledge to his advantage (aka "I won't tell anyone if...").

I also 100% see her getting a kick out of crowning Rhaegar/Rhaella the queen of love and beauty, given Rhaegar's history and the fact that Aegon (and Aemond if he doesn't realize) would get riled up by some mystery knight showing interest in one of "their" marriage prospects. And Rhaegar/Rhaella just rolling her eyes, using that to work even harder to maintain her sister's secrecy.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

ATLA

all my skeletons out for the taking by 136108

Azula wins the Agni Kai, and the playing field shifts.

The Owl House

Grom Knight by ObabScribbler

Belos is dead. The Collector is defeated. The portal door is working again and everyone now just has to move on with their lives and rebuild normality as best they can. This is easier for some than for others.

When Willow invites Hunter to Grom, he assumes it is so that he, as a non-student of Hexside, can still be there to help Skara in her duties as Grom Queen. Emerald Entrails stick together, after all. Clearly there could be no other reason for Willow to invite him. This is all set to be a simple, friendly combined dance and fight with a demonic entity that reads minds and conjures your worst fears into reality. No biggie.

Except with Boscha and her crew of bullies around and feeling braver than ever, this Grom might not be as simple as they all hoped. Especially when Hunter discovers that being the reincarnated container of hundreds of years of Golden Guards' fears is a bad thing to be around a fear demon.

Clone Wars

and through the spaces of the dark by blackkat (+ podfic)

Jon's attempts to avoid a war he wants no part in are ended when Dark Woman drags him to Coruscant and straight to a posting with the Guard. He intends to keep his head down and do his work, but the mysteries around the Guard - and Fox - immediately have him in out of his depth and on uncertain ground.

Nine Worlds / The Lays of the Hearth Series

Friday Keeps Coming Next by rattyjol

Cliopher's first morning with the Sun-on-Earth was everything he could have dreamed of, until it wasn’t.

or: Cliopher and his Radiancy break time. Again.

soon, they said, if not today by Ariaste

Cliopher passes the Imperial exams on the first try.

It changes everything.

one for sorrow, two for joy by Ariaste

The Emperors of Astandalas did not have daemons.

Cliopher knew this could not, technically, be true. Thinking this thought, even in the quietest whisper in his deepest heart of hearts, was undeniably treason, but…. facts were facts: The Emperors of Astandalas, though worshipped as gods on earth, were each of them born a human being before they were apotheosized by the crown and by law and custom. Every human being had a soul; therefore, every human being had a daemon.

So the Emperors of Astandalas must have had daemons.

But by tradition and ritual and magic and taboo: The Emperors of Astandalas did not have daemons.

you laugh and you gleam with that roguish air by lindsayraindrops

Notorious rebel-poet Fitzroy Angursell is captured and brought to the Palace of Stars. Cliopher... copes.

(A reunion.)

with a winged heart by celebros

"Cliopher. Cliopher. Cliopher."

I blink. It's Conju, standing with his hands on my shoulders, and I go to answer him and realize that I am already speaking, babbling, and Franzel is behind him, wringing his hands and looking near tears. I try to focus on what I'm saying, but it's like a stream, light and splashing past me, too quick to hold, not enough to catch, somehow, somehow –

(A few weeks before the start of the viceroyship ceremonies, Kip finds himself the unwitting recipient of a truth serum)

The Virtue of Being True by electropeach

"You're under an enchantment, Cliopher. The good news is that the protections his Radiancy has placed on you have shielded you; the bad news is that the protections that block the spell are also reflecting it, meaning that instead of you it affects everyone who comes near you. You may have noticed an unusual propensity for candor in your vicinity today?"

A reverse truth serum plot leads to Cliopher having a very strange day.

even a cat may look at a king. by mage-pie (looselipssinksubs) (Note: This fic is marked as abandoned, but it has some really great scenes that it's still worth a read imo)

"Hello, hello, hello!” said his Radiancy’s serval. She said it, in words, in Shaian, in a pleasant voice that came from her little snout quite naturally. “Good morning!” “Good…morning…?” said Cliopher, too shocked to control his voice. His mongoose got out of his bag and scrambled up onto his shoulder with an excited little squeak, her claws prickling through the tunic. “I have good news and bad news!” the serval continued happily. “Don’t you want to know what it is?” Cliopher could only stare. “Good news, I’ve figured out how to talk!” She lashed her tail excitedly, and finished with her voice full of enormous glee, “Bad news… I’ve figured out how to talk.”

The entire city of Solaara wakes up one day attached to magical animals that display each person’s innermost self with no regard for court protocol or even basic manners. It’s pure chaos… and that’s before the Emperor accidentally gives the soul-animals the power of speech.

[martellspear]

it bothers us because you have delusions that martell princess who was raped but nobody except her family was bothered by it cause she was so irrelevant suddenly should matter more than Jon Targaryen's parents who according to canon 'he loved her she loved him' and their love brought about the birth of the prince who was promised

suck on it irrelevant ugly woman stans and you have the gall to compare princess viserra to her when viserra was million more beautiful than the dornish scum and her ill spawn could ever be

Jon WHO? LMAO. I wasn't going to post this - my moots & followers don’t deserve to read this shit -  but it made me laugh more than the others

Rhaegar chose Lyanna, I agree.... but it was to die. Do you think he wouldn't have taken here somewhere safer and with more people to ensure > her < safety during childbirth if he wanted to? Please.

He could've let Elia die in a third pregnancy and be free from her and marriage duties. The thing is that the moment he found out it might happen he went "no❤️".

Also, I'd be embarrassed to use the show as source. Especially if my pRoMisEd pRiNcE's end was that one.

'Ugly woman' and that's her:

"The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia’s delicate beauty."

I can't believe you're so obsessed to the point of seeing posts I don't tag😭. Go use that time to read the books, they're fun.

On a more serious note [tw: rape]:

You are disgusting. Do you know how hard someone has to try to be worse than some ASOIAF men?

‘In Casterly Rock, it was common knowledge that Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and her babe. They said he had raped the princess with her son’s blood and brains still on his hands.’

That’s what you are mocking. I don’t care that she’s a fictional character, what you and your rabble say about her is truly sickening, it’s heartbreaking that you get to vote.

Someone who’s not from her family and cares a lot about what happened is Ned. I’m sorry if his own sister’s death didn’t influence his non-Jon decisions but Elia’s did.

Thus, one of the reasons he gives Cersei the chance to escape is his memory of Elia and her children's bodies presented to Robert and his reaction, you can’t even deny how much it affected him.

‘Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage [...]’

A few other quotes: 

‘Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, “But Lord Tywin, wasn’t it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?” None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.’

"Cersei is frightened of you, my lord … but she has other enemies she fears even more. [...] In Dorne, the Martells still brood on the murder of Princess Elia and her babes.

‘Some nights, Ser Barristan wondered if he had not done that duty too well [...] m. Princess Elia and the children. Aegon just a babe, Rhaenys with her kitten. Dead, everyone, yet he still lived, who had sworn to protect them.’

‘The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children [...]’

I know you can’t relate but Elia was loved. It wouldn’t matter if ‘only her family’ cared, what happened to her was brutal and nothing changes it. You people just come off as rude, uneducated and ignorant. 

Fun fact: the name 'Elia' is mentioned 75 times throughout the series, 'Lyanna' 53 and 'Rhaegar', thanks to Dany, 258

[totheidiot]

i understand that tma is a podcast and no canon description or ethnicity has been given to literally anyone except a select few (select few being jude perry, adellard dekker, oliver banks, annabelle cane etc etc) whatsoever, but people who are particularly vocal about their dislike towards how jon has a very decided fanon interpretation and their dislike towards that jon interpretation, idk, they are very weird to me. you can headcanon jon or any character that does not have a canon race, anything you would like. you can headcanon jon as a blond white dude, you can do whatever you want! even though people will look at an art or interpretation of jon that isn't the fanon accepted south asian-british man with long-ish dark hair with graying streaks and they might say, "oh! i didn't even recognize him", it will be celebrated.

but it's very weird to see people genuinely being mad about it. the fanon interpretation of jon, of course, is that he is south asian-british, and people being mad about that just leaves a bad taste in mouth. we desi folks barely get any positive representation AT ALL, and it's very frustrating considering that we are literally everywhere. 1 in 5 people living in london are of south asian heritage and even with that number, we had no canon south asian character until sam came along. and i have seen people treat this headcanon with such nuance, they do their research and many try to incorporate different elements into his design as well. people complaining about it, insisting how they see jon as a white guy tm, it's just in poor taste. especially considering the fact that people who are vocal about it, their only alternative for jon is thinking of him as a white guy. i have seen several poc headcanons for jon that aren't just making him desi, i have seen a persian jon that i think about all of the time, i have seen a latino jon.

idk. i don't think i have worded this post very well but it's been on my mind for a long time.