#i can gladly expound on this!!!

[fandomfluffandfuck]

1940's just-serumed-Steve with his hair trigger is transported to post-engame (where Steve came home and is living happily with Bucky.) Steve-and-Bucky's home, and it doesn't take long for Bucky to realize he's got his wonderful Sub in the two best states he's ever been. With a hair trigger, and always hard and ready to go, and well trained, with his hypnosis triggers (soft, hard, cum on command) and he can't resist the idea of getting to play with them both at the same time. -🐍

related to this, and this

This is trouble 😏 Double trouble. Literally.

With this in mind, I immediately had one idea that I will gladly expound upon:

40s Steve is still unaware of his own strength and nervous about breaking anything. He's also generally nervous about, well, everything. He wants to touch, but he doesn't know how anymore. Second guessing everything. He's desperate to get off, but once he starts, he can't stop--literally, he can't stop himself. He'll jerk himself raw. Until he's run out of semen, cumming dry, and is crying. Yet, he can't stop! It hurts, but the itch is still there. It never goes away now.

Bucky has an idea of how to calm younger Steve...

And younger Steve--still a little unsure that he's not having some serum side effect, some hallucination or something caused by whatever it was that was injected into him--goes along with it very willingly. Offering himself up for whatever they ]meaning the older version of himself, yeah, what, and an older Bucky with a prosthetic arm] might want to do with him.

Bucky wants to use some of the custom restraints they've had made in the future on him. Silky feeling black rope with vibranium weaved into it so Steve can't rip out of it like paper and a spreader bar with vibranium in the leather and the metal, preventing any tearing or bending when it's in position.

Younger Steve moves like a doll, easily going along with it all, eyes open wide to take everything in yet turned dark by his interest. He's naked. Fully naked. Exposed to two sets of eyes. Familiar and new at the same time.

First, Bucky situates younger Steve. He places him by the end of the bed, placing his hands behind his back and folding his legs up underneath him. Behind his back, he ties his wrists together, making cuffs from the rope, and then has him hold onto the wooden footboard; he can lean back on it for support if he likes. He doesn't have to stay straight up--he just has to keep watching. His legs get tied, too. Thighs to ankles. Then, the spreader bar is adjusted and placed between his thighs, keeping them wide, wide open.

After he's all dolled up and situated just so, Bucky turns his attention to his Steve. Current Steve.

Steve that can operate on whatever command Bucky wishes. Hard. Soft. Cum.

Anything.

Bucky puts his Steve against the high headboard, facing the younger version of himself at the foot of the bed. He doesn't bother tying his Steve up at all. He'll be good without restraints. Off to his left side, Bucky places himself. That way, he knows freshly serumed Steve will have the best angle of the show.

He'll see every pornographic detail.

Then--

Young Steve is forced to sit and watch and pant and drool and gape, unbelieving, as Bucky plays modern Steve like a damn instrument.

Bucky commands modern Steve to be hard, and his body obeys despite just moments before, only having been halfway there. He throbs. Entirely hard.

Younger Steve was already fully there, just the setup is enough to give him a stiffy--and an aching one at that. He's nowhere near as controlled or as well-fucked as his older self.

Bucky toys with his Steve for the benefit of their guest. Younger Steve. He just wants to show him his future. The future where his body is at beckon and call of Bucky and only Bucky. Is that a crime?

Bucky toys with him. Jerking his Steve off until he's on edge, about to spill over his knuckles--his peak hard, hot, and satisfying--only to tell him he can't. Each and every time, Steve whimpers through the quakes of denial. But, it felt so good! He just--he wants to cum! Why does it have to stop!?

Bucky doesn't reveal the show stopper just yet, so instead of forcing Steve to go soft, he tells him, inarguable, to hold off. Not yet. He can't cum yet. Why? Because he said so. Steve's body listens to Bucky.

Just when Bucky knows he's no longer in danger of shooting off--on razor's edge--he goes back to it mercilessly.

Jerking him off. Not yet. Jerking him off. Not yet. Jerking him off.

Not yet.

Within just a few rotations of cruel denial, Steve is wet enough to make obscene sounds. Leaking. Dribbling. Slippery in Bucky's tight, unforgiving grasp. The silver metal of his hand glints just that little bit more in the low lighting of their bedroom. All of Steve's overflowing pre-cum is dripping down his thick fingers to his palm, even farther, too, to his wrist. Steve cries out, begging for permission to cum.

Not yet.

While his Steve's is fighting to gather his breath, Bucky shoves his metal fingers into his mouth. His mouth might be just as slick as his cock with how he's begun to drool. Bitten, swollen lips unable to stay shut and keep all his excess spit in his mouth where it belongs.

He slurps at Bucky's fingers.

Oh, fuck.

Steve, young Steve, pulls at his restraints so hard that he feels it through his whole body. His muscles are straining. He wants.

He's not--

He doesn't know what those metal fingers taste like, but he wants to. More than anything, he wants to know if they have a metallic tang. He wants to know how they taste without traces of himself (?) and with. Metallic and briny. Erotic, flexing with a mechanical whirring. Shoving deep into his throat until he chokes.

Gags.

He wants to drool as a result of those fingers working him over, too.

Young Steve makes a noise he's never heard come out of himself. A sound he didn't know he could make.

Please.

He feels desperate. Left out in a way that's not lonely (and not really true) but is devasting. He wants a taste! He wants a turn to be edged, even if it probably hurts like hell. He can tell from how his older self's cock has gone so, so red at the tip that it's practically purple.

Hell.

He's so hard.

Younger Steve watches the way his poor, tortured cock flexes as he's denied. Twitching.

"Don't hurt yourself over there, sweetheart," Bucky smiles filthily at him, referring to how he's kept squirming, tugging and straining.

It would feel like heaven just to be able to press his thighs together and get any pressure on his dick. Any friction. Anything.

He wants.

Please.

Younger Steve hoarsely moans while his counterpart fights the pleasure of having his cock stroked even more, groaning, twisting around. Much more free to move than young Steve. Unfair. He's sputtering as if he's trying to find the words to beg for his orgasm but he can't.

Not yet.

Bucky leaves Steve's heavy, throbbing cock alone for a few turns, turning his devilish attention to the hard points of Steve's nipples. Flicking them. Making him jolt. Pinching them. Making him keen. Twisting them. Making him cry out and arch away from the sensation. The sweet torture.

Not yet.

Younger Steve can practically feel the heat radiating off of Bucky's Steve. It's so thick in the air. Palpable.

Still, Steve gets even wetter. His cock throbs with his drum-beat pulse.

Younger Steve can see it from across the bed--a big, fat pearl of pre-cum beading up at the slit of his dick and rolling down his thick, veined shaft with a violent twitch. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip. The taste of copper floods his mouth.

"Please-!"

Young Steve doesn't even know which one of them it comes out of. Himself? Older Steve? Both of them? At once, connected in denial?

"Please, what?" Bucky taunts, getting high off of this, "please let you get off?" His Steve whimpers urgently. "Nu-uh," he sasses, "there's no way I'm letting you, baby, I haven't gotten mine yet!"

Younger Steve can hardly breathe. They're hypnotic together. The chemistry is explosive. Dangerous.

"You wanna help me get mine? Then, maybe, if you help me, I'll think about letting you get yours..."

Bucky's Steve nods so urgently, so frantically that it'd be funny if younger Steve weren't breathing the same humid, intoxicating air.

It just keeps getting hotter.

"Okay, okay, fine--" even Bucky isn't immune to it.

Cutting loose, Bucky preps himself. Quickly and efficiently, no longer willing to wait. Opening himself up with his slick metal fingers, Bucky both uses some lube and moslty the obscene amount of wetness that's spilled from his Steve. He preens in their undivided attention. The past and present Steve. The loves of his life. Moaning, rolling his hips filthily--Bucky is poetry in motion.

Younger Steve continues to be unable to breathe. He has no idea how he's still surviving. He's dying.

He's dying.

Because Bucky suddenly throws a leg over his Steve's lap. Straddling him. Not yet sitting, instead hovering, teasing, so, so close to where they all want him to be.

He leans forward, he whispers, just loud enough for younger Steve to hear as he orders his Steve to go soft. With Bucky hovering above his lap just enough--

Younger Steve gets to watch older Steve's erection wilt.

He goes soft.

Like it's nothing.

Again, on the same elective wavelength, both Steves sob.

The hotness melts Steve entirely. How can he do anything but succumb to this moment, lost in this real-life fantasy? Better than porn. This is...

It's unbelievable.

There isn't a word for how fucking outrageously erotic this is. Watching.

Only able to look, not to touch because truly, for the first time since he got the serum, he is unable to move.

"Now, baby," Bucky scolds his Steve, pulling back from marking up his vulnerable throat with a gorgeous, terrifying grin on his face, "how am I supposed to have mine when you can't keep it up?"

Young Steve can feel the whine that is kicked out of the other Steve's chest, it's so intense.

Fuck.

Hanging by a thread.

Steve is hanging by a thread. The tiniest little thread.

"How am I supposed to ever let you cum? You can't get me there. So, why should I get you there?" As he says it, he's evil--he's evilly grinding his own hard dick and wet, open hole against his Steve's still soft cock. Torturing him. Fucking torturing him. Look at what you can't have. Feel what you can't have.

Steve whimpers like... like he's dying.

And Younger Steve supposes he is. He knows he's dying, and he hasn't even been touched. He hasn't even been commanded to go soft! Fuck, he can't imagine what that does to a fella's brain. It must destroy it. It must feel like fucking insanity. Oh, God. It hits Steve like a tsunami. Oh, God, he's gonna feel that. One day, that'll be him! Oh, fuck, he's going to let his Bucky do that to him. He's gonna. He's gonna and it's--

Why does he want it so bad?

It sounds like it must hurt so much, and yet...

Younger Steve is drooling thinking about it.

Please.

It's on the tip of his tongue to beg for Bucky to do to him whatever he did to his Steve. Now. He wants to be like that now. He wants his future now.

Please. Please. Please.

Younger Steve's desperate, urgent, fucking dire needs are stripped away from him in a single moment when Bucky suddenly turns his irresistible grin on him. Not on his Steve.

Oh.

His stomach flips, already tied in impossible knots. Despite the forest fire inside him, he is frozen in place under that branding stare.

He's chuckling at him.

What?

What?

Oh.

Without even realizing it, Steve has shattered the solid wood in his hands where they're restrained behind his back. Fuck, this new strength--

He can't--

He can't control himself.

And he just proves to himself that he really, really, really can't control himself when, in a few short minutes that actually feel like decades, Bucky orders his Steve to get hard again and he does. And Bucky slides down onto his hard cock. Unbothered. Letting out on long, low moan. Stuffed full. Breathlessly commanding Steve not to cum. His Steve clings to him. But he listens. And, and, and--

God.

The idea of that happening to himself--to younger Steve at any fucking point in his fucking life is so fucking delicious that his orgasm takes his knees out from under him. He fights his bonds, eyes rolling to the back of his head, his ears ringing, his whole nervous system whiting out. Burning unbearably hot. Overtaking him.

Please.

Let that be him, please.

In conclusion:

[ut-versotale]

First real major test of the inventory system Or, as I like to call it, "A soul-draining exercise in trial-and-error and careful observation until everything might maybe look correct... only to find out it doesn't; rinse and repeat process until everything works."

(Also, don't read into the items displayed here. They're just for testing. Though, if you very strongly believe you've got something figured out by analyzing the MTT-Brand Egg, then by all means, feel free to expound)

There are slight alterations to the base Undertale menu. While I was inspired to implement multiple item categories by Deltarune, I'm definitely not the first to do something like this. Team Switched's Underswap fangame is a notable example.

As you can see, it's not complete yet, but I figured you guys might find it cool. I hope you don't mind the rapid-fire updates within the past week. I've just been very legitimately excited about all the progress I've been making lately. They probably won't be as quick after this, but should any cool little non-spoiler things be completed, I'll gladly try to find a way to show them off!

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Luther Discovers Hus

“You are espousing the pestilent errors of Jon Hus, who claimed that Peter neither was nor is the head of the Holy Catholic Church." John Eck accused Luther "I repulse the charge of Bohemianism," roared Luther.

This was an intense moment in the German town of Leipzig in July, 1519. Luther’s old German friend, John Eck, had challenged Luther to a public debate. For eighteen days the debate between Eck, Luther and Andreas Carlstadt was the center of the western world. This debate was a major turning point for Luther and the Reformation.

Eck, a polished debater, tried to corner Luther to admit that he agreed with the condemned Jon Hus. At first Martin told Eck the Bohemian was not an issue for the debate, and that he didn’t agree with Hus. But Luther didn't really know what Hus believed, only that he was a heretic.

During a break for lunch, Luther went to the university library and read the trial notes that condemned Hus as a heretic. Historian Roland Bainton said Luther found “to his amazement,” that he did agree with Hus. Bainton continues, “When the assembly reconvened at two o'clock, Luther declared, ‘Among the articles of Jon Hus, I find many which are plainly Christian and evangelical, which the universal Church cannot condemn.’" At this admission Duke George in disgust muttered in a loud enough voice that all could hear, “The plague!”

Eck had cornered Luther into a surprising concession. Because of that, some say Eck won the debate, although many say it was a draw. The debate ultimately helped Luther, who felt the debate was a waste of time, free himself further from the papal system. And Martin Luther had found a friend and ally in Jon Hus, a man burned at the stake as a heretic one hundred years prior to Luther.

“I thought of John Hus as a cursed heretic,” Luther later said. “I counted it a sin even to think of him. I would gladly have furnished the wood to burn him. I would have felt I had done God a real service….I was struck with amazement as I read on, and was filled with an astonishment difficult to describe, as I sought out for what reason so great a man—a doctor, so worthy of veneration, and so powerful in expounding the Scriptures—had been burned to death.”

If such a man, he wrote, "is to be regarded as a heretic, then no person under the sun can be looked upon as a true Christian." The Leipzig debate sealed Luther’s fate. It was only a matter of time before he would be excommunicated from the Catholic Church.

Martin Luther's "discovery" of Hus tells us a lot about Luther. He reads Hus and immediately changes a long and deeply held belief he had about Hus, showing that Luther is very teachable and willing to admit he is wrong. He casually admits his error to a room full of peers and powerful men. He didn't seem to care or worry about how this admission would effect his reputation--which was an amazing tendency of Luther. This shows Luther’s bravery and willingness to accept the repercussions of his convictions. The Leipzig Debate reveals the character of Luther and why he was the spearhead of the Reformation. It also moved Luther and the Reformation even further from Catholic teachings. "The ship of the Reformation was cut from its moorings, and had to fight with the winds and waves of the open sea," writes Historian Philip Schaff.

Source: https://www.facebook.com/church.history01

This is a really good Facebook account. Check it out and give Church History a follow.

[jeyneofpoole]

If I were not at work I would gladly expound on how to draw Miss Menzies face, not meant to sound condescending I mean it genuinely I love to scrawl those face lines. Also it took me a while to capture it as well... but best of luck 🫡 ye shall do well I know it

thank you wise sailor 🫡 make no mistake it’s all good natured grumbling i love his rectangle face. he’s actually been hanging out on my recreational whiteboard for a hot minute so i can gaze upon him before i sleep 🙏

[rasenkaikyo]

Mozu gave a wistful sigh. "... Sometimes I do come to miss the early days in Hingashi. When my own parents would take me for hanami."

The priestess followed her partner's gaze for a moment, taking pause from her tea. Something told her that, as lovely as the plum trees ever were, there was something found wanting.

"I have heard small tales of the revels surrounding hanami over there. The Dance of the Five Petals, right?"

"Oh, yes!" The question seemed to take Mozu out of her pensiveness. "There, it is the sakura at the heart, and oh did the land seldom look so beautiful than when all those trees were in bloom. You'd see scores of them lined up along rivers - I was once told they were planted in ages past to protect against floods.

"The people gave thanks to the trees for bountiful seasons ahead, holding picnics and festivals among the blossoms. You would even find sakura in the treats we had for the occasion, you know - I think you'd enjoy that, especially the namagashi--."

Hinako politely listened as Mozu expounded, in no small amount enamored with the candid enthusiasm behind her words. The (very deliberate) mention of the sweets did make Hinako perk up oh so subtly, bringing about a soft chuckle from Mozu, and Hinako giggled in return.

"It sounds amazing, my love. I would gladly see them myself someday!"

"And I would gladly take you," Mozu affirmed, and then with a moment's repose, smiled warmly to her other. "...Of course, we see in the sakura many things. New beginnings, beauty in the moment... hope. All that I see in you also, flower. Wheresoever we find ourselves, I hope we can keep living in these little moments, again and again."

Feeling the warmth of a blush at this, Hinako could only beam and nod in agreement.

"Oh, my tea's going to get cold at this rate..."

[voraciousvore]

In the Belly of the Giant (25/39)

***Contains vore!***

Chapter 25

Mr. Henderson felt much better after eating his cereal. His new human friend, Millie, was still hungry, so he portioned her out some more milk so she could have another bowl of cereal. While she ate, he politely excused himself so he could take care of some business. He hadn’t checked in with the school at all, and since he was feeling better he figured he’d call the vice principal just to make sure he was getting along without his help and all the affairs of the school were in order. He had taken an extended leave of absence, ostensibly due to the stress of losing his daughter, but also because privately he had been terrified he would lose control of himself and eat one of the human students. Now, he felt more confident that this latter concern was an irrational fear. 

When he checked his phone, he was surprised to see a long string of text messages he had missed from the prior evening. In his fractured state of mind, he had completely forgotten about the date he had scheduled for Saturday. He didn’t even know what day it was today. Friday? Apparently, the giantess had become frustrated with his total lack of contact. She had texted him to confirm their date was still on, and when he unintentionally ghosted her she became irate, and sent him a barrage of messages scolding him and cursing him out. Mr. Henderson sighed. He felt guilty, but at the same time he was too old for this sort of drama. He sent the giantess back a simple, respectful message, notifying her some difficult personal issues had come up in his life, and that he had to cancel the date and wasn’t interested in dating anymore. He wished her luck in love and apologized. She blocked him. 

Once he checked in with the school, and was assured that things were running smoothly without him, he dressed for the day and returned to Millie in the kitchen. She had finished her breakfast and remained on the counter, not sure how to get down. When she spotted Mr. Henderson, she gave him a warm, genuine smile, blossoming like a flower in response to the sun. The giant felt his heart flutter. She was such a sweet, kind person, and lovely too, inside and out. When he saw she was happy, it made him happy too. He offered her his hand and she gladly climbed into his palm. He gently lifted her up and conveyed her to the living room. He sat on the gigantic couch and held the miniature woman in his lap. 

“Millie, is there anything you need me to get for you to make your life here more comfortable?” he asked. 

Millie gazed up at the giant, into his brown coffee eyes that reminded her so much of her late husband’s. She couldn’t lie: She was smitten with him, deeply attracted to his magnanimous nature and his gentleness. She had never met a giant like him before and he fascinated her. All the other giants she knew had been horrendously evil and cruel. “I have everything I need here,” she replied. 

Mr. Henderson opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by his phone ringing. He saw it was Joey and hastily answered. “Any news?” he questioned tensely. Millie noticed the immediate change in his demeanor and wondered what was so important. 

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but Ray and I came up with a plan that might help us find Eren. You know that human doctor at the hospital? We’re going to use him as bait to see if we can lure out the kidnappers and track them back to their base. Hopefully, we can find Eren, and maybe even the missing students from the boarding school,” Joey expounded. “I’ll let you know what happens.” 

“That’s good, Joey. Keep me posted.” He hung up and sighed. 

“What was that about?” Millie inquired, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

“Oh...” Mr. Henderson didn’t want to burden Millie with his troubles, but he saw no reason not to tell her. “My daughter Eren... she’s gone missing. We’re worried that she’s been kidnapped. Her boyfriend Joey works at the police department, so he’s keeping me up to date on the latest news regarding the investigation.” He frowned sadly. 

Millie shuddered. Eren’s fate struck a nerve with her. “How horrible!” 

Mr. Henderson gave her a weak smile. “I believe in Joey. He’ll find her. You met Joey at the hospital. He’s the police officer that made you pass out. I think he felt bad for scaring you; he wasn’t trying to.” 

Millie was surprised. “Her boyfriend... is a giant? Do... giants date humans?” 

Mr. Henderson laughed gently. “It’s certainly not very common, but it happens. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the human doctor you met was married to that giantess nurse too. Those kinds of interspecies relationships can be just as fulfilling as regular, same-size relationships.” 

“I see,” Millie said quietly. She stared at Mr. Henderson inquisitively, as if wanting to ask him something, with her striking blue eyes. He was mesmerized by those eyes. He wondered what she was thinking, but so much about her was a mystery. “Have you ever dated a human?” she asked suddenly.  

Mr. Henderson raised his eyebrows with surprise. “No. But I have nothing against the idea. There’s just not very many adult human females around, on the giant side of town.” He sighed. “I was married once, to a giantess. She divorced me because I’m infertile, and I couldn’t give her a child. I’ve been single since, but I ended up adopting Eren. She’s been a light in my life. Now... that light is gone...” His expression convulsed with strong emotion. Millie hugged his thumb, stroking the digit tenderly. After a long period of silence, Mr. Henderson composed himself again. 

Millie looked down at her hands. “My husband... was murdered in front of me.” She sniffled. Now it was Mr. Henderson’s turn to comfort her. He grasped her protectively in his massive hands, caressing her back with his thumb. Millie wanted to talk about all that she had gone through, since she had been alone for so long with her own thoughts, with nobody to share her feelings with, but she found it difficult to speak. Nevertheless, she overcame her mental block and pressed on. “We lived in poverty on the human side together. We had a lot of debt, and my husband borrowed money from the wrong people. When we weren’t able to pay it back... they invaded our home and shot him. They captured me, threatened to kill me if I ever came back, and sold me to giants.” 

She curled up in the giant’s hand, holding her knees and quaking at the memory. “I had never seen giants before. I was terrified, and I had good reason to be. They did... horrible, unspeakable things to me. At the time, I was pregnant with my husband’s child, and I miscarried due to the abuse and the stress. It... felt like losing the last part of him that I had left.” She wiped away tears with her arm. Mr. Henderson held her closer to his torso in a hug. She cuddled up against his shirt, soaking in his caring warmth. “I don’t know how long I was held prisoner, but it felt like a lifetime. One day, I got extremely lucky and managed to escape. I survived alone on the streets for a long time. I stayed hidden, since I feared giants and didn’t trust them. I had nowhere to go, nobody to help me, and no goals except to stay alive.” 

She went quiet, before continuing, “To be honest, I don’t think I would have lasted much longer, if you hadn’t showed up. I was starting to give up any hope of living a normal, fulfilling life. I... considered letting go, and ending it all…” 

Mr. Henderson wrapped his fingers around her tighter. “I’m glad I found you,” he said tenderly. “In some ways, you saved me as much as I saved you.” The sweet moment was interrupted by the audible growling of the giant’s stomach. Even though Millie trusted Mr. Henderson not to devour her, she still quivered with instinctive fright, almost like a Pavlovian response. She certainly didn’t associate the noises of a giant’s stomach with anything good after being forced inside one multiple times in the past. 

Her reaction made Mr. Henderson exceedingly uncomfortable. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. “I should probably make us lunch,” he remarked, standing up in a smooth motion so as not to upset his human passenger. “It’s about that time, after all.” Millie bobbed her head with approval, making a concerted effort to calm herself. She reminded herself that she was safe. Mr. Henderson was a gentle giant; he couldn’t possibly eat her. She trusted him. 

She knew it would take some effort to get used to not being scared all the time. When she lived on the streets, she had to constantly be aware of potential threats. As a result, her nature had been warped, to make her quiet and skittish. Despite her experiences, she had made remarkable progress. She could talk now, despite not having spoken a word to anyone for a long time. And here she was, riding around in the hand of a hungry giant, in his giant dwelling, without fainting from terror. She could do this. 

Mr. Henderson didn’t feel like he could stomach any meat yet, so he decided to make some grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. Such an entrée would be easy to portion out to human size too; he had often made the same meal for Eren, as her father. He set Millie on the countertop, as he had done that morning, and took a can of soup out of the pantry. He heated the soup in a pot on the stove, trying not to imagine the red liquid as a big vat of blood. Turning away from the pot, he grabbed slices of bread and cheese and toasted the sandwiches. While he cooked, he glanced over at Millie and his mouth started to water. She looked appetizing, like the perfect little snack to dip in his soup. He licked the moisture off his lips and distracted himself by stirring the pot. 

Millie, unaware of the depth of Mr. Henderson’s struggle with temptation, admired him as he cooked. She couldn’t deny she fancied him. He was very handsome too. She wondered what he would say if she admitted her feelings to him. They hadn’t known each other for long, but his uncanny resemblance to her husband, just blown up on a much larger scale, tipped her heart in his favor. She missed being loved, and the giant was so caring to her. All his attention alleviated the terrible emptiness and loneliness in her heart. 

Mr. Henderson finished cooking the meal and served up a microscopic human portion for his guest, by tearing off a teeny chunk of one of the sandwiches and using his smallest measuring spoon to dump some soup in her tiny bowl. Just as he served himself up with his own giant bowl of soup, his phone rang again. He excused himself and answered the phone in the other room, so he wouldn’t bother Millie while she was eating. Since her body was still starving, she polished off her meal in record time, and was left hungry for more.  

She wanted to get herself another serving of tomato soup, but she couldn’t reach the top of the pot. She looked at the giant’s soup bowl. His spoon was propped up on the side, like a bridge. She walked up the spoon to the edge of the bowl and leaned forward to dip her own human bowl in the lake of soup before her. As she strained her arm to reach, she slipped and lost her balance, tumbling forward into the liquid with a splash. On her way down, she grabbed at the giant’s spoon, but instead of arresting her fall the spoon flipped forward and smacked her in the head, knocking her out cold. She floated unconscious in the soup. 

“Sorry about that interruption, Millie,” Mr. Henderson apologized, stepping into the room. His stomach was rumbling fiercely. The cereal he ate earlier hadn’t been enough to sate his gargantuan frame. He was feeling confident he wouldn’t throw up this time, and he had a voracious appetite, so he decided to eat what he could before his mind rebelled against him. He set aside his spoon and picked up the entire bowl, bringing it up to his lips. He started chugging the soup, enjoying the feeling of the warm, nourishing liquid running down his throat to his eager belly. 

Millie woke up to loud slurping sounds. She was surrounded by heat. Confused, she felt herself sliding back. She opened her eyes to behold a sea of red sweeping her away. She flipped around and was horrified to see a giant pair of lips, suctioning down the soup. Before she could make a sound, the tide pulled her in and she was sucked through the lips into the giant’s mouth. She found herself inside a cage of enormous teeth and pink flesh. She was rapidly drawn toward the gullet, where she could see the throat muscles contracting, loudly gulping down gallons upon gallons of soup. In a panic, she paddled away and clung to the edge of the giant’s slippery tongue to save herself from being swallowed. 

“Mr. Henderson, stop eating! I’m inside your mouth!” she screeched in terror, hoping desperately that he could hear her. 

As he drank down his soup, Mr. Henderson felt an odd, solid lump enter his mouth. The lump stirred and stuck to his tongue, and he suddenly realized with horror that the thing was alive. Oh God, it was Millie. He could hear her scream. He stopped gulping his soup and lowered the bowl right away. As her little body pressed against his tongue, he could taste her. She was even more delicious than he had imagined. Swallowing her alive would be so satisfying. Despite himself, he began to salivate profusely. He was sorely tempted. She was already inside him, halfway there. One little gulp, and she’d be in his belly. 

Mr. Henderson recoiled at these thoughts, but he could barely stop himself. He vacillated, unable to swallow but unable to spit her out. She wriggled on his tongue, exciting his hungry urges. The predator within him was ready to strike, like a coiled snake. His digestive tract whined for food. He was losing the battle against the intense cravings of his flesh. It would be so easy, just to swallow. 

Yet, Millie was alive. She was a person, a tasty person small enough to fit down his throat, yes, but still a person. She had her own thoughts and hopes and dreams. She had come so far, suffered through terrible tribulations, only to find herself in the mouth of a giant—a giant she believed in and trusted not to harm her. She had said so herself, he wasn’t capable of eating a human. He was too kind. 

Mr. Henderson insisted to himself, firmly, that he wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ate her. Overcoming his powerful impulses, he opened his mouth and dropped her wet body into his hand. She shivered. He found himself breathing heavily, covering her with his warm breath, strings of drool running down his lips. 

“W-why were you in my soup bowl?” he asked with forceful agitation. His heart was racing. His fear at the immoral act he had very nearly committed made his tone sharper than he intended. 

Millie heard the edge in his voice and flinched. Nothing terrified her more than an angry giant. “I’m s-so sorry!” she stammered, and started to wail. “Please don’t be mad at me! It was an accident!” 

“Oh no, that’s not…” Mr. Henderson’s face fell. “I’m the one who should be apologizing! I nearly swallowed you! I’m so, so sorry Millie!” He rushed over to the sink and ran some warm water so he could wash the soup and saliva off her body. He rinsed her off, but recognized it would probably be easier for her to just use the human bathroom instead, and then she could change into fresh clothes. He carried her over to the human suite and set her down gently. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” he repeated again. 

“It’s okay, Mr. Henderson. I know it was an accident,” she replied shakily. “And I knew you wouldn’t eat me on purpose.” Her voice cracked, but she still smiled at him, then walked into the human rooms to clean herself up. 

Mr. Henderson looked after her with guilt. She was correct, in that ultimately he wasn’t able to carry through with the deed. However, she had no clue how close he had truly been to eating her. He hoped she would never find out either. He was just grateful he had been able to contain his ravenous compulsions in time. He went back to the kitchen and scarfed down his grilled cheese sandwiches. He never wanted to reach the point where he was that hungry again. 

Chapter 26

Chapter 1

[uenodivision]

Shisuta's Thoughts on Ginza Division

Masa Judice

Shisuta looks at the picture of the Catholic priest for a long while, before sighing sorrowfully.

"I only know vaguely about the interaction between my mother and the man known as "Father Masa". Apparently, my mother did not believe that he had Japan's best interest in mind when he ran for the position of Archbishop of Japan. She didn't exactly expound on it, but... after hearing some of his messages and the way he spoke to his congregation, I had a feeling that she was right. Preaching the Word is supposed to be about love and compassion, teaching the Lord's children to turn from their wicked ways. It is not to be used to scare or intimidate them. That is not what the Lord wants, at least that is what I believe."

"In any case, mother convinced the clergy to elect him. She has never steered them wrong before, so he was not made the new Archbishop. Ever since then, he has made it his mission to exact revenge on my family and I. ...I'm sorry to say, but that alone proves that he was not worthy of the role of Archbishop. If he allows something as small as revenge to control him, then he still has a long way to go. Hopefully, he realizes that before it is too late."

Eiji Noguchi

"I do not know much of this man, but Aranai-chan tells me that he is responsible for making... PROFILE, was it? I apologize, I am not at all adept with technology or the Internet. I've never really used it much, even when I was young. I couldn't tell you anything about it, which is why I allow Aranai to deal with such things. I think she made me a page on this man's website, but as stated, I wouldn't know where to begin with using it."

"Besides that, from what I've read up, he seems to truly love technology. He seems to believe that the world is advancing into a technological age. ...I can't say for certain whether that is true or not. If it is, I only that people remember: technology is not God. Though it may make our lives easier, it shouldn't become our whole lives."

Oki Teagan

"I'm afraid I know little about this man, other than he seems to have a very poor disposition. He reminds me of Samatoki-san; both of them really need to work on controlling their emotions, not letting their emotions control them. Aranai-chan tells me he used to be part of a rap group but after it dissolved, he disappeared for two years. I hope nothing bad has happened to him during that time. And if something did, I hope he is strong enough to quell whatever it is."

Last Judgment

"...I'll be honest, this team... they scare me. Even the team name, Last Judgment, does not help me feel at ease. Not because I don't think they are strong or that we will lose against them. But... they scare me because nothing good can come from interacting with them. The world Noguchi-san seeks to create is not one that I think will bring peace. And Teagan-san, as stated, I know not what has transpired these past two years he has vanished, but I know that something has happened to him to change him."

"...And as for Masa-san... though I would not wish ill will on anyone, his desire for power and his vision of this world, will not benefit anyone, save himself. His followers and the people he surrounds himself with, he is leading them all down a dark path that has no future, save one of damnation. I don't know what has happened in his life to make him like this, but I sincerely pray that the Lord quells whatever demons or monsters are plaguing him and extinguishes them before it is too late."

"...It's for that reason I have asked Aranai-chan, when we face this team, if she'd allow me to deal with Masa-san. I know it is a little unorthodox, but... I feel that this is a test the Lord has placed before me. To save one of his children from himself. And if that is so, then it is a test I will gladly take. And I hope and pray the Lord gives me the strength to succeed."

[writer59january13]

Self help addict needles unsuspecting reader

Expounded late today April 27th, 2023 since being written countless years ago maybe a baker's dozen

as thee doodling cock doth crow scouting about for carrion

scavenging for dead animals

and rooting about garbage to sell

at annual corvus entrepôt,

where at birds eye view

buzzfeeding crowdsource talon (telling) the famed truth regarding chicken scratch scrawled illegibly by eccentric hand

now sought after collector's item signature birdbrained, bird dogged,

bird dinned long haired,

pencil necked geek recluse can be found in his grotto along with original manuscripts

characterizing Mark Twain

in general and Injun Joe

in particular linkedin

with Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn,

who suffered fools gladly,

but nevertheless being a security detail he dealt with hoodlums -

frequently tossing them out on their golden earring and experienced severe lumbago.

When dire circumstances extant do I ask

for anonymous benefactor to write me a blank check so edenic, idyllic, and pacific sunny

spring day yours truly can bask tapping a keg of spring water

stored in an airtight cask when thirsty, I pour into an ice cold

(not a tad above absolute zero)

temperature controlled flask while donned (underclothes

resembling Ally's gaiters),

and outer garments

emblematic of space suits my favorite martian outfit

and astronaut helmet and mask

to minimize contamination

paraphernalia acquired courtesy gofundme for assistance sans when cash strapped

since temptation to rob a bank dismissed

guru wannabe of gumption

buckles when he tackles

formidable onerous task. Otherwise an inner compulsion advocates dishing out non repeating

infinite decimal calculating pi on nearing infinite jesting kron limit

can unlock esprit de corp

spirit to tackle and barrel headlong novel circumstance silently cheering myself to get unstuck

if in quandary like eeyore and experience shuttered

gloating euphoria galore for

reasons spelled out because das saucy papa

coon sitters himself an insecure

noodle head as told me courtesy Kishore and Kouila Raval –

unsure if surname correct, (who approximately

forty five years ago lived at Colony Arms Apartments

within Audubon Pennsylvania, where yours truly felt infatuation toward their daughter named Menal)

woven into this reasonable rhyme as thoughts analogous

getting squeezed thru many a kernel pour

out corny and flaky as Tony the tiger in tandem with Katy Perry

emanating a figurative roar

to even out the score,

when as a boy alias scapegoat of bullies subsequently

pleaded for peace versus declaring war,

prepubescent and young adult of yore.

He admits being affected with Peter Pan's

jiffy (labyrinthe) syndrome

the prospect of becoming older, I decried physical maturation (wanted to remain being a little boy)

upon skinny legs objected to stand

when juiced a striping slip of a lad,

whether at home or in class room playing solitary candy land submissive toward parental

intervention against teachers’ pet(s) mandated got foisted upon my person equated to more than helping hand my lonely hearts club one young man band, whereby me late mother

(preceded date of this poem) before lovely bones of then octogenarian father

punctuated mortality with exclamation mark when tightly coiled resembles ampersand!

Said enabling parents offtimes

completed my entire major assignments,

homework, and major class project, say researching history of York reinforced dependence on others

with angst riddled psychic torque underscoring in boldface defects

mine genetically typed quirk

this then young man lacked confidence

as requisite perk

with inxs o faith no more seeds

of worthlessness did lurk

inferiority hardly groomed me

a foo fighting beastie boy resembling creature from Black Lagoon covered head to toe with mire and murk antagonistic role and potential enemy

characterized by Captain Kirk;

Hence without a spock of confidence, neither sensibility nor cents cause gifted with noggin quite dense consigned to bruit off fence against meself, an outlier never found among company of gents

which at presence doth incense

that middle aged male,

whence any aid pains like a lance

essentially donning out role of offence

particularly with lack of finances

where mine family rents.

[jetravenex]

What makes Optimus Prime great is the line that helped Peter Cullen decide on his voice

"Be strong enough to be gentle."

No one is perfect, the thing we have to be aware of is often the people we admire are still human. Still flawed and thus will make mistakes.

The reason stories like Transformers especially the iterations that have come out lately in IDW, Prime, and though I haven't gotten too far Earthspark a little.

Because I really like what they all did with Megatron.

They took this character, the 'big bad' and showed him in some fantastic lights.

They showed him deciding to turn over a new leaf. The power of fighting to redeem even one who is arguably the worst in Transformers.

I sadly haven't personally yet read More than Meets the Eye but the stuff I've absorbed by osmosis is amazing.

It's not a 'oh he's good now' ~~well it's a little of that in Earthspark so far but him and Dot being friends gives me life. I'd write her into Prime or something where Megs becomes her guardian TF how would that work dunno I'd figure that out later XDD~~

And One definitely does the best of showing how Megatron came to be

My point is, even if people view you as Megatron. Megatron is a complicated but powerful and compelling character.

Just as you are a person with multiple facets.

And if a tyrant like Megatron can look back and take a turn after so long going the wrong way and claw at working to be better.

Anyone can.

Will they succeed? That's up to them.

I also think you can consider Megatron's line from Transformers Prime:

"One question, Megatron, why are we called 'Decepticons'?"

"Another craven Autobot scare tactic. The name was meant to demonize us. Instead, we wear it as a badge of honor, for if speaking the truth is deception, then we are gladly guilty."

~Transformers Prime, 2x01 Orion Pax, Part 1

People will demonize those that tell a truth they don't agree with. And even though in this case Megs was being deceitful I feel that this line applies.

Of they're calling you Megatron for chasing the truth. For crying foul at you speaking truth to their lies. Then be proudly guilty of it.

Finally on the note about allegory. I think every bit of fiction has its elements to be pulled from IRL.

One of the values that should be taught in English is how to expound meaning from text. Because even if unintentional our stories provide a look into someone's world view. And lines of great power and are thought provoking present well for analysis.

Transformers does not go out to focus on something else and play off it. But it is a fiction that great meaning can be drawn from.

And that's why our stories are so important. The things they teach. The light they provide. The world views they may unknowingly present to you.

There's great power in that

I have no words other than I have officially gone from feeling like D16 to feeling like Megatron.

I do not wish to elaborate any further.

[johnnybby]

gang sleepover - hcs

DARRY IS PERPETUALLY ASKING IF THEY ALL WANT MORE BLANKETS

HE’S ALWAYS ASKING IF SHE’S OKAY W SLEEPING IN THE LIVING ROOM

LIKE “U CAN GO SLEEP IN PONY AND SODA’S BED IT DOESNT MATTER”

TBH HE’D HAVE A DRINK BEFORE BED

AND THEN WHEN HE GOES TO SLEEP

STEVE AND TWO AND SODA AND EVERYONE IS HOLLERING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS BECAUSE OF SOMETHING STUPID

AND DARRY OPENS HIS EYES

AND CRAWLS OUTTA BED 

WALKS SOFTLY TO THE LIVING ROOM

AND RUBS AN EYE

AND HE’S LIKE

“will you……please…….” (quietly) “tone it the fUCK DOWN”

AND BEFORE HE KNOWS IT

IT’S LIKE 3:27 AM

AND DARRY IS SITTING IN A RING WITH THEM IN THE LIVING ROOM

PLAYING TRUTH OR DARE

AND WOULD YOU RATHER

TBH STEVEPOP

ENDS UP HAVING A REALLY DEEP CONVERSATION ABOUT EXISTENCE

PONY JOINS

AND ITS TOO MUCH FOR HIM

AND HE GOES TO DARRY AND HE’S LIKE

“I’M DYING AS WE SPEAK”

“we all are pone. now get out the way, i can’t see where the bottle’s pointing” (playing spin the bottle)

TWO STEVE AND SODA ARE PLAYING MANHUNT

twO DEAD FORGETS WHAT HE’S DOING

POPS OUTTA NO WHERE AND SCARES THE FUCK OUTTA SODA

“i was beginning to think u weren’t looking for me”

stEVE HEARS SODA SCREAM

AND HE’S LIKE

SODA WYA R U GOOD

TBH THE FIRST ONE TO SAY “IM PULLING A FUCKING ALLNIGHTER 

IS PONY

but ofc he’s also the same kid to fall asleep first

IN THE MORNING

AS USUAL NO ONE KNOWS WHERE TWO IS

HE FELL ASLEEP IN THE KITCHEN WHILE EATING SOMETHING

dally is fuckin knocked

johnny doesn’t have a hard time sleeping but he doesn’t wanna be the first to fall asleep 

so he’s the one to sit on the porch smoking a cig watching two and soda and steve mindlessly walk around up and down the streets to play manhunt

dal goes out to join him for a cigarette before he conks tf out

tbh two and pony are perpetually play fighting

and pony aint in the mood

so he play fights with steve

OMG PONY IS DEF STARGAZING

TRYNA SHOW JOHNNY THE CONSTELLATIONS

or some reason someone brought whipped cream

and steve thought it was a cool idea to stick the nozzle up soda’s nose while he was sleeping

and fill a nostril up with whipped cream??? idk what steve was thinking man

ARM WRESTLING

steve claiming that darry cheatED!!!!!!!!!

soda always challenging steve

like “square up lil bitch”

and steve would beat him every time

and then steve tries darry

and gets his ego bROKE

“yeAH OKAY MUSCLE MAN”

“LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU GET AN A ON A CALCULUS TEST SUPER DOPE”

you’ll like wake up and either two, soda or steve are cuddled up next to u…def soda bc he is just used to so much cuddling w people- the kid loves it

two is the jackass who suggests spin the bottle (but with truth or dare) instead of kissing

until it hits the u

then he’s like

“how bout that kiss now”

FUCKN PRANKCALLING CHERRY

“so i heard your name was strawberry” *pony says in an ultra deep voice*

“pony i know its you”

*pony aGGRESSIVELY CLEARS HIS THROAT*

“excuse me! i am not a pONY!”

somEONE CLOGS THE FUCKIN TOILET AND IT WAS STEVE EVERYONE KNOWS IT DARRY HAS TO SHIT AND HE’S ANGRY

[astrognossienne]

Usually I don't respond to to others' tags or comments on here, but for this one, I'll actually bite.

I said in this post that Cancer is the most emotional, Scorpio is most intense, but Pisces are the most sensitive. Per request, I shall gladly expound, while debunking the many myths and inaccuracies recited by rote by basic astrologers (which unfortunately, are the vast majority of astrologers) who almost exclusively practice pop astrology on and off tumblr:

Cancers are the most emotional people, not sensitive, as is often inaccurately summed up about this sign. There is no ambivalence about this sign; because of this it is a very strong sign. Cancers, in addition to having big dick energy, have real leader and muse energy because they inspire the many who pretend not to see them. This makes them special, even if others don't or choose not to see it because of their own shortcomings. Cancers are a mirror that way. Either you like what you see or you don't. Emotions can either be welcomed and understood or dismissed and reviled just based on the types of individuals and how they respond to this sign. Others seem to resent the fact that they're emotional people, so they feel the need to break them. But Cancers can't be broken no matter how many slings and arrows are thrown at them; they are still human and kind to others anyway, which again, points to their inherent strength. The very few that are actually worthy of a Cancerian’s respect and acknowledgement understand and recognize the Cancer as a human being like everyone else, and not a caricature or stereotype or something to be merely tolerated; that the Cancer is to be protected at all costs, and that the depth and range of a Cancer’s emotions and feelings are to be respected. Emotional people live in a thunderstorm of their own feelings and have no clue what other people are feeling, or thinking, or why they are shouting. Cancers feel too much. People tend to dislike this. As such, they're often dismissed as "lunatics" or "crazy" by everyone, which, compared to the extremes and delusions of grandeur of Scorpio and Pisces (who, by proxy of their respective archetypes, tend to be hyped up, overblown, and romanticized), is rather hypocritical and interesting, to say the least. Cancer's feelings, inasmuch as they’re causing a deeply emotional reaction, must be honoured. However, Cancers are a Cardinal sign, so therefore they are the most emotional because they're primarily interested in their own feelings, and can be insensitive to others' needs, as they are too busy with their own to care about others. This is probably the crux of the reason why everyone loves to denigrate, dehumanize, and dismiss this sign so much. But the bottom line is that Cancers exist in too many ways and too many places for anyone to minimize them. Without them, there’d be no world, and it says a lot about you if you’re not feeling them. Now, I've gone into the pathology and psychology of Cancerians at length, so if any further explanation is needed on this, refer to these posts

post #1

post #2

post #3

post #4

post #5

post #6

post #7

Scorpios are the most intense; as such, it is also a very strong sign since no sign is so potent for good or evil as them. Because of their strong emotional drive, they're like "Cancers on steroids". Where Cancers feel too much, Scorpios feel too deeply. As insane as this is, this, along with their "sexy stereotype" appeals to people. They are fiery, and as such they often despise what they perceive as weakness in themselves or others. These are not halfway people, whatever they do, they do it totally and absolutely to its completion. The thrive on extremes and often have an affinity for those who deal with extremes. They feel the need to test their worth to themselves and to others by being as forceful and overpowering as possible; they're not above yelling and being abusive to others in doing so. They're interested in patching up their rather shockingly fragile sense of self-worth by paradoxically being ruthless, taking over and imposing their will on others. Scorpio expresses itself directly, to the point, without regard for others' sensitivities (which is quite interesting, since they themselves are sensitive); sometimes they do so with a barbed wit. Scorpio, like Cancer and Virgo, is highly discriminating and selective; and this sign will often quite brutally reject what does not meet its demanding self-set standards. Yet Scorpios' key criteria in discriminating are perceived usefulness and depth. Their eye for usefulness makes it an unrestrained destroyer of all that is obsolete. But for all their fieriness, they're still a water sign, and as such, they suddenly and fatally (often with willful cruelty or vindictiveness) "sting" whatever and whomever may have hurt their feelings or denied their strong-willed desires. They are dark, but they are highly charismatic, self-confident, and operate at a cranked up level. Also, they have huge emotional expressiveness. When they commit to something they mean it. They are very passionate and obsessive personalities, about their interests whether or not other people share them. This energy tends to draw others toward them and attract an audience. They talk about exciting things and do exciting things. They love hard and care deeply, as such, they're actually way more clingy and needy in relationships than Cancers are commonly believed to be. They are like Cancers in the sense that if they see a good thing and just want more of it. But unlike Cancer, their love tends to run deeper to the point of obsession. They love hard and care deeply. Deep and serious conversations which involve participation of the intellect is something that interests them. They often have dominant body language and have a hard time building bridges with employees and colleagues. They don’t hold back or self-censor by any means, even if they know their views could cause a stir or upset people. They will not hesitate to call someone out when they disagree, or find the other person’s actions or words upsetting. They are volatile and so people become constantly hesitant or worried of offending them. A lot of them often suffer from mental disorder, such as bipolar and other extreme states of mind. If this isn't intensity in its purest form, I don't know what is.

Pisces are very sensitive people, arguably, who respond to the thoughts and feelings of others. Unlike Scorpios (or Cancers, for that matter), they are the most impressionable and easily influenced; they have very little willpower and are unable to make up their own minds and stand on their own two feet. They're blind to any faults in those that they love. Paradoxically, these passive qualities make them quite acceptable and popular with others. Their acute sensitivity is manifested in possibly their greatest and most overblown trait: illusion and escapism. Because of their adaptability to others, people make excuses for their often less than kind personalities and behaviour. This behaviour is almost always a result of their low self-esteem. These people have poor impulse control and are generally impulsive and childish. However, another part of their popularity is that as sensitive people, they are very interested in others' feelings, because they detect them easily and know whats happening in other people's minds before they do. Cancers are great at this as well, but they are too selfish to really tap into others; Cancers believe in holding on to themselves, Pisces is all about letting go. Being emotional is common for all but being sensitive, truly sensitive, is actually uncommon. There is a lot of hype about this sign, whether or not it's actually justified remains to be seen. In my opinion, it's because people have a taste for the uncommon, the unreal, the intangible, the mystical. Dreams (and the concept of dreaming) appeals to many. And this, more than anything else, is the key to Pisces' seemingly mass appeal; they symbolize escape and the ability to let go, no matter how badly they are treated, no matter how they are used and abused, which in turn, is quite convenient for others. They are martyrs and would rather suffer than fight for their rights.

[cabbage-hearts]

substance, shadow, and spirit

High and low, wise and simple, all busily hoard up the moments of life. How greatly they err!

Therefore I have to the uttermost exposed the bitterness both of Substance and Shadow, and have made Spirit show how, by following Nature, we may dissolve this bitterness.

Substance speaks to Shadow:

Heaven and Earth exist for ever: Mountains and rivers never change. But herbs and trees in perpetual rotation Are renovated and withered by the dews and frosts: And Man the wise, Man the divine— Shall he alone escape this law? Fortuitously appearing for a moment in the World He suddenly departs, never to return. How can he know that the friends he has left Are missing him and thinking of him? Only the things that he used remain; They look upon them and their tears flow. Me no magical arts can save, Though you may hope for a wizard's aid. I beg you listen to this advice— When you can get wine, be sure to drink it.

Shadow replies:

There is no way to preserve life. Drugs of Immortality are instruments of folly. I would gladly wander in Paradise, But it is far away and there is no road. Since the day that I was joined to you We have shared all our joys and pains. While you rested in the shade, I left you a while: But till the end we shall be together. Our joint existence is impermanent: Sadly together we shall slip away. That when the body decays Fame should also go Is a thought unendurable, burning the heart. Let us strive and labour while yet we may To do some deed that men will praise. Wine may in truth dispel our sorrow, But how compare it with lasting Fame?

Spirit expounds:

God can only set in motion: He cannot control the things he has made. Man, the second of the Three Orders, Owes his precedence to Me. Though I am different from you, We were born involved in one another: Nor by any means can we escape The intimate sharing of good and ill. The Three Emperors were saintly men. Yet to-day—where are they? P'ēng lived to a great age, Yet he went at last, when he longed to stay. And late or soon, all go: Wise and simple have no reprieve. Wine may bring forgetfulness. But does it not hasten old-age? If you set your hearts on noble deeds, How do you know that any will praise you? By all this thinking you do Me injury: You had better go where Fate leads— Drift on the Stream of Infinite Flux, Without joy, without fear: When you must go—then go, And make as little fuss as you can.

- Tao Yuanming (陶淵明) (translated by Arthur Whaley)

[thegreenmeridian]

I haven’t been to a zoo in a really long time and I’m jonesing for it bad so here’s a niche Terror post.

The Terror characters on a visit to London zoo:

Franklin: Waxes lyrical about when he was a boy and zoo animals were made to do tricks. Makes a point of sponsoring the lions, but only if his name will be on the cage.

Crozier: Wanders off by himself after Fitzjames bangs on about having seen Komodo dragons in the wild. Is later found gazing wistlessly at the penguins in protest to everyone else discarding the map.

Fitzjames: Has seen many of these animals in real life and wants everyone to know it. Gets emotional at the plaque for the aardvark that died in a fire and drops an inordinate amount of money in the donation box as a result.

Little: Dislikes the noise and heat, retreats to the dark of the reptile house and spends a great deal of time trying to spot well hidden frogs. Buys a stuffed tortoise as a gift for someone but decides not to give it.

Hodgson: The only person other than Goodsir to be enthusiastic about the bug house. Gets lost on the walk back to the Tube after getting into a debate with the Jehovah’s Witnesses camped outside the zoo gates.

Irving: Talks too much about “God’s wonderful creations” at every exhibit. Sees two zebras having sex and goes quiet for the rest of the day.

Gore: A huge moth lands on his face in the butterfly enclosure and will not leave until a keeper pokes at it with a stick. The subsequent photo becomes his phone background for next year.

Le Vesconte: Crawls into the tube through the meerkat enclosure that is designed for children and has a great time despite the bruises. Buys a novelty plastic camel that poops chocolate raisins in the gift shop and thinks it’s hilarious.

Stanley: Complains a lot about the price of things in the gift shop and restaurant, and the tickets themselves. Spends some time drawing ibis in the aviary, shows the pictures to no one.

Goodsir: Has facts about every animal and earnestly expounds on the cuteness of the giant African millipede to anyone who’ll listen. Gets into an extended chat with a keeper in the Night Life exhibit about nocturnal adaptations.

MacDonald: Plans his day around animal displays and enthusiastically volunteers to have a peregrine falcon land on his arm. Buys an enormous stuffed sloth in the gift shop and is not remotely bothered by how impractical it is to manoeuvre through the barriers at the Tube station.

Collins: Categorically will not set foot in B.U.G.S. Absolutely enamoured by the jellyfish in the aquarium and briefly researches how to set up a saltwater tank at home before concluding it’s too complicated.

Des Voeux: Keeps tapping on the glass of various exhibits while complaining that the animals within are boring. Considers trying to shoplift a pack of erasers from the gift shop “for a laugh” but ultimately decides against it after realising Silna is watching him.

Morfin: Sees a bull elephant’s dick and finds it absolutely hilarious. Later makes eye contact with a coati and feels emotionally connected to it.

Blanky: Brings several cans of Marks and Spencer’s rum and coke into the zoo and somehow gets away with openly drinking them. Complains about the heat in the Rainforest Life exhibit but spends an inordinate amount of time in there anyway watching a sloth eat a mango.

Hartnell: A goat eats his pocket in the Children’s Zoo, for which he apologises to the keepers profusely. Sees an advert for the zoo lodge overnight stays and vows to save up for it.

Hickey: Finds it hilarious to jump out and scare people in the Night Life exhibit. Claims to have survived a bite from a “Saipan” and doubles down on that when someone asks if he meant “taipan”.

Gibson: Thinks himself far too grown up for a zoo trip of all things. Makes a pressed penny anyway.

Peglar: Gets into various debates with Bridgens regarding how Aristotle might have come up with his more fantastical descriptions of animals. Sneaks away from him in the gift shop to buy a him massive Blue Planet book as a gift.

Bridgens: Brings homemade quiche and posh crisps with him should they get hungry. Particularly taken with the red river hogs and the okapi.

Jopson: In charge of booking all the tickets and coordinating travel, for which he has many contingencies in case of lost personnel or Tube delays. Still manages to enjoy the day himself and falls utterly in love with the otters after hearing them squeak at feeding time.

Armitage: Follows Tozer and Heather around all day. Tries to temper his genuine enthusiasm for the animals for fear of looking childish but fails entirely at the gibbons.

Tozer: Adamantly claims to have no fear at all of the B.U.G.S exhibit but nearly shits himself when accidentally coming across the “encounter with spiders” event and seeing a tarantula on a keeper’s hand. Remains surly for the remainder of the day.

Heather: Strongly debated bailing en route to go to the Imperial War Museum instead. Lets himself be goaded into shoving his hand through the bars to touch the pygmy hippo.

Silna: Successfully spots a well hidden bush baby in the Night Life exhibit and points it out to Goodsir only once everyone else has moved on. Gladly listens to his factoids but flat out refuses to concede that a millipede could be cute.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 2, chapter 1

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Content warnings: sex work mention, one noncon kiss, minor noncon touch (suggestive but not sexual)

Morgan was deeply uncomfortable. The caravan ride had been entertaining, at least for him. Cain was delighted to have an attentive audience, and after divulging all he knew about the events currently unfolding - Diablo's corruption and influence spreading, the dark wanderer last seen heading east and his possible motives - he had expounded at length on his theories about the forces of Heaven and Hell and what moves they might make next. He also shared tales of the time he'd spent in the desert cities in his younger days, and anything else that happened across his mind. It seemed he had an unlimited capacity for storytelling. Morgan liked it, content to absorb as much knowledge as he could.

However, once they'd reached their destination, they had been almost immediately ushered to the palace by a taciturn guard armed with a very sturdy-looking spear. Cain had already slipped away, ostensibly in pursuit of an old acquaintance, but both Blaise and Morgan found themselves visiting the sultan unexpectedly.

Upon their arrival, the man, who introduced himself as Jerhyn, had actually been quite friendly. He had somehow heard about their defeat of Andariel and was eager to pay for their assistance with problems that had arisen in his city. The mercenary guild was struggling to maintain their ranks in the face of increasing demonic activity. Blaise had agreed to join them readily; working together with a group to combat monsters and demons was well within her comfort zone. Morgan was trying to delicately express his preference to work alone, but the sultan was being insistent and it was proving difficult to argue.

The problem he was experiencing was rooted in the attack the harem guild had sustained weeks earlier, prompting Jerhyn to offer the members shelter within his spacious palace. Priests of Rathma had no particular rules with regards to celibacy, but surrounded as he was now by women and men in various states of undress, Morgan found himself wishing they did. He'd never managed to grasp the allure of intimate relations. He was aware of it as a possible motivation for the actions of others - there was a long list of those - but he'd resigned himself to simply not understanding it. The guild members flocked around Jerhyn, all flashing jewels and rustling silks. It was impossible to look at the man without seeing an astonishing amount of bare flesh. Of course Morgan was familiar with the human body, had helped with preparations for some of the more involved burial rites, but this was different. It felt like an invasion of privacy, despite the fact that the display was clearly intentional. His discomfort was making it difficult to negotiate.

Blaise, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself, gazing around with frank admiration. When Jerhyn finally relented, allowing them until the morning to come to a final decision, she grinned wolfishly.

"Does that mean we get to spend the night here?"

Jerhyn smiled indulgently. "Of course, if you wish it. You may stay as long as you like. Any of the companions here can show you to the guest chambers. Please, enjoy yourselves."

Morgan stood and bowed politely before turning to leave. A heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" Blaise hissed next to his ear.

"To find an inn," he whispered back. Her grip tightened and he fought the urge to pry her fingers off of him. It would not be wise to make a scene so soon after their introduction, he reminded himself. No matter that he was already uncomfortable to start with, and it was only getting worse.

"You know it's incredibly rude to turn down an invitation like this, right," she pointed out. He... yes, he did know that, now that he thought about it. The overwhelming desire to be anywhere else was impeding his ability to remember all the rules of social interaction. He did not outwardly protest as Blaise steered him back toward the crowd of concubines. "Have a little fun for once," she said at a more normal volume, pushing him into the waiting embrace of a pale, slender young woman before turning away to mingle.

"Nice to meet you, sweetheart," the woman purred, running her hand down his chest. He tried not to shrink away from the contact. "Let me show you to your room. Don't worry, you don't have to be shy with me." She flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Thank you," he managed. She took him by the hand and led him down a staircase and up a corridor while he alternated between looking at his feet and looking at the ceilings. They appeared to be intricately painted tiles, but the details were lost on him.

Morgan heaved a small sigh of relief when she stepped into a room, beckoning him to follow with a wink. Finally, a respite. He opened his mouth to thank her for her guidance, but she muffled him with a kiss, pressing him into the doorway. He froze for a long, panicked second, torn between the desire to push her away and the lack of any adequately clothed spot on her body to push against. As she raised her arms to embrace him, that did it. He reached up to shove against her shoulder, leaning away.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.

"Showing you a good time, sweetie." He was not having a good time. She went to lean in again and he wriggled free, ducking under her arm and backing away into the room.

"Please, don't." He kept his hand raised to ward her off. She pouted.

"What, you don't like me?"

Not especially. The invasion into his personal space had been unexpected and unwelcome. "I'm sure you're... quite lovely," he said haltingly - it was more of a guess than a lie - "but I'm not... interested in... that." He gestured vaguely, hoping to somehow encapsulate the concept of physical intimacy.

A look of understanding dawned on her face, to Morgan's relief. "Oh. Oh! Sorry about that. I can usually guess. Your friend seemed pretty sure down there, doesn't she know...? Oh well, just sit tight, I'll get out of your hair." She flashed him that bright smile again as she left.

Morgan sat wearily on the edge of the bed. New places were exhausting, and he still had to figure out how to convince the sultan that he would gladly help the mercenaries as long as he was permitted to engage with them as little as possible. How best to frame it? He tested a few different scenarios in his head, starting to build a script from the pieces that seemed most compelling. It was laborious enough that he didn't notice the figure at the entrance to the room until it spoke.

"Not a lot of people turn down Meera's company. Perhaps I'll be a little more to your liking."

"Please, I just - um." He'd started to answer before looking up, and found himself wholly unprepared for the vision that greeted him. The most breathtakingly beautiful person he'd ever seen was leaning casually against the doorway. He smiled at Morgan, a flash of pearly teeth bright against the deep umber of his skin, and moved in to perch on the edge of the bed beside him.

"My name is Jemali. What should I call you?" He laid a delicate hand on Morgan's thigh. That broke the spell. Why did these people insist on so much physical contact?

"Morgan," he said, sliding away from the other man. "I don't like being touched," he added.

"You say that," Jemali smiled, edging closer, "but you've never been touched by me. I'd remember a face as handsome as yours." He reached out to caress Morgan's cheek, but he ducked away from the contact, standing and backing away.

"I don't like being lied to, either." The flattery was over the top. A particularly kind and tactful person might go so far as to describe him as distinctive, but that was just a polite way to skirt around the issue. He was ugly. That was an objective fact. There was no point in trying to disguise or deny it.

"Morgan, honey, I'm not - look, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Let's start over." He patted the bed next to him. Morgan did not move. Jemali sighed. "At least meet me halfway here. I'm trying to please you. If you don't want Meera and you don't want me, what do you want?"

"To rest after a long journey." His patience was wearing thin and he didn't want any sort of company, no matter how lovely they might be to look at. "I just want to be alone."

Jemali arched an eyebrow. "You have a free shot with the finest concubines money can buy, and you don't want to take it?"

"I do not."

"You a eunuch or something?' He cast an appraising glance at Morgan's trousers.

"No."

"Well, now you have me curious." He sprawled across the bed, stretching long limbs to claim the space. "What possible reason could you have to turn both of us down like this? We aren't used to the sting of rejection, you know." He pouted.

"Is it not enough-" he closed his eyes briefly. Irritation was a loss of control, a failure to adhere to the principles that guided him. Plus, raising his voice was starting to hurt his throat. He took a calming breath and tried again. "I don't desire anyone's company. Please just accept that."

"Fine. You don't have to tell me." Jemali rolled over onto his stomach, propping his face up on his hands. "Akarat knows I could use a break anyway. So tell me about yourself, Morgan. Or don't you like talking, either?"

"Not really."

Jemali rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Just my luck, too. Stoic adventurer types are usually right up my alley, but you're going to be a tough nut to crack. I can tell. Don't-" he held up one finger to cut off Morgan's next words before they'd left his mouth, "- don't ask me to leave, because I will, but nobody's going to believe we've finished so quickly. And we're on orders from the sultan to see to you and your friend, so that means I'll have to send in someone else and you'll have to go through this all over again. So just let me sit here for... oh, an hour or so, and then we can both be on our merry ways."

"Fine."

Morgan seated himself in a plush chair opposite the bed, since the other man seemed to be making himself comfortable and he wanted to stay out of his reach. The following silence lasted for nearly a minute before Jemali's voice jolted Morgan out of his thoughts.

"So you must be some sort of wizard." Jemali was studying him, head tilted in what must have been a practiced pose. It was impossible for a person to look so thoroughly statuesque by chance. "You don't have the build to be a fighter. Are you any good? I mean, you must be, or else you wouldn't be here enjoying my company." He stretched languorously. Was he even capable of being still? "Oh, what a story! A strong, silent sorcerer, come to protect us from the clutches of foul demons! This could have been almost romantic, you know. What a waste." He splayed long fingers dramatically across his bare chest, casting his eyes up toward the ceiling.

Ah, yes, the demons. Perhaps he could get some useful information out of this encounter. "Were you there?"

"Was I there when - oh, you want to talk about that." Jemali hugged one knee to his chest, running the edge of a painted fingernail along his bottom lip. "No. No, I was lucky enough to be on a house call. Lost some friends, though." So he could be still after all. Morgan winced. Of course this lively individual had been friends with the victims. Of course the memories would be painful. He hadn't meant to distress him, even though he'd just been hoping for some peace and quiet.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he offered. The other man's lips quirked upward.

"Thanks, honey. That's nice of you to say." He gave a small sigh. "You want to know what you're up against, huh?"

"If I can."

"Smart. Now, we don't make a habit of judging our clientele, but everyone agrees there was a suspicious character who came through just beforehand. Refused to take off his cloak or even pull down his hood. Didn't want anything, just asked a lot of questions and left. Really strange. The demons showed up a few hours later."

Morgan leaned forward. That sounded like it could have been the dark wanderer Cain had described. "Do you know what he asked?"

Jemali shrugged. "Something about old myths, some sort of tomb or something. I don't know."

That would be enough to start with. He could question the sultan in the morning and go from there. Hunting for information was easy enough to justify as an individual task. If the wanderer was looking for something old, that might give him occasion to scour the city archives for information, a pleasantly solitary task. It could also be a justification for working with Deckard Cain, who clearly had some familiarity with the area. The scholar was a useful resource, he reminded himself. It was just a bonus that he liked the old man's company. Things were starting to come together.

Morgan leaned back, satisfied. The action made the collection of small pouches on his belt dig uncomfortably into his side, pushed out of place by the plush stuffing of the chair. He stood to remove them, but of course nothing could go without comment.

"What's all that?"

He considered his options. Ignoring the question seemed unlikely to work, given Jemali's persistence. A vague answer would just lead to more questions, and he didn't particularly want to get into the details of his profession. It might solve the pressing issue of privacy for the moment, but word would inevitably spread, and that could hinder his effectiveness with the sultan. Or get him expelled from the city, depending on the citizens' mood. It wouldn't be the first time. Might as well give a brief explanation.

"Potions. Ingredients for potions. Dried foods. Trinkets." He pointed at each pouch as he named its contents.

Jemali's face lit up. "What kind of trinkets? Like jewels? Oh, can I look at them?"

They were mainly jewellery. Sometimes a skeleton rose with some trappings of its former life still intact - clothes, weapons, baubles. At some point Morgan had started collecting the ones that were particularly appealing to him. The dead generally had no use for possessions. Sometimes he bartered them for supplies, which was useful enough to justify the collection. Sometimes he traded them for other, prettier baubles. To further aid him in his travels, he told himself. Nicer trinkets fetched him more supplies. But he also liked to just look at them sometimes, to appreciate their shapes and the way light played off their surfaces.

He passed the small bag to the courtesan at arm's length. Jemali upended it over the bed in front of him, spreading out the contents to admire them. Morgan, in turn, settled back in his chair and admired Jemali now that his attention was elsewhere. People didn't generally appreciate being stared at, he knew, but everything about the man was arresting. The shape and warm colour of his eyes, the smooth slopes of his skin, the slick, uniform coils of his hair. Even his movements were effortlessly graceful. His voice was easy to listen to, soft and lilting.

"Lost in contemplation of my beauty, hmm?"

Mortifyingly, he was right. "I - I'm sorry. For staring." Morgan averted his eyes. Stupid to have let himself get so distracted. He really did need to rest.

"You don't have to apologize, darling. Clearly you have excellent taste in pretty things," Jemali purred, playing his fingers first over the array of baubles in front of him and then drawing them up to frame his face. He batted his eyelashes. "You sure you don't want a little taste of this?"

"Quite sure." The threat of physical contact was enough to put Morgan back on the defensive. He shifted uncomfortably.

Jemali tilted his head. "You're a funny little puzzle, Morgan. Tell you what, let's make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"I'll tell the others that you've requested to be my exclusive client. They won't bother you if they know you're mine," he grinned.

It would have been preferable for the guild to ignore him entirely, but he supposed dealing with a single courtesan would be much easier than trying to explain himself over and over. At least this one seemed to understand his request not to be touched.

"And in exchange?"

Jemali reclined fully, wriggling his shoulders into the sheets. "You let me come and go as I please. I don't have a good place here to take a break when I need some alone time. I'll be as quiet as a little mouse, you'll hardly know I'm here."

He considered. It seemed favourable, provided he could count on Jemali to actually be quiet when he needed to concentrate. But would the guild really keep bothering him as long as he stayed here? Or was Jemali overstating the issue to get what he wanted? He eyed the other man warily.

"And I promise I won't lay a finger on you without your permission," he added. That was enough to tip the scales.

"We have a deal."

"Wonderful!" Jemali clapped his hands together and sat up. "Now let's seal it with a kiss, as a matter of tradition... oh, honey, it's all right, I'm just teasing. I said I'll respect your personal space, and honestly I meant it. I'm sorry, Morgan, you don't have to look so scared."

He clenched his jaw. He wasn't scared of being touched, he just didn't want it. Especially not from someone teasing him. Of course, he should have been expecting it. Tiredness and discomfort had interfered with his usual defenses. And if he was honest with himself, so had the peaceful journey, and so had the man's unexpected beauty. He had to remember that he'd earned a measure of respect from his traveling companions, that he couldn't expect the same sort of treatment from a stranger. Especially not such a pretty one, when he was just the opposite. That was just the way the world worked.

"I am going to rest here," he said, closing his eyes and hoping he could take Jemali at his word to leave him be. That ought to end the conversation.

"You can use the bed, you know."

"This is fine."

"All right, suit yourself." True to his word, Jemali was quiet. Morgan could hear the sheets rustle as he made himself comfortable, and shortly afterward his breathing grew slow and deep. Once he was sure the other man was asleep, he finally felt comfortable enough to slip into a light meditation.

It was nearly two hours later by Morgan's count when Jemali gave a soft, almost musical sigh as he awoke and stretched. There were some quiet sounds of fabric and jewellery shifting as he arranged himself, then the soft pat of his feet hitting the floor. "Until next time, darling," he said in a low whisper, and then he let himself out.

Morgan waited a few minutes before relaxing back into a deeper meditation. The chair was actually quite comfortable, much better than the back of the caravan. There was no need to move to the bed. Tomorrow he would meet with the sultan, well rested and hopefully on his own terms. He was cautiously looking forward to it.

[fromtheboundlesssea]

Celiaverse Contest 2

Family, Duty, Honor is going to hit a hundred chapters in three weeks and I’ve hit over a thousand followers (yay!) so we are going to do another contest!

Timeline: February 28— April 11

I am willing to make the contest longer if you think it needs to be

Categories:

Fanfiction

Digital Art

Fan art

Prizes:

First places winners from each category will get a 1.5k word Celiaverse fic.

Second place winners of each category will get a 500 word Celiaverse fic as well.

These might either be scenes you wish had happened in an already existing fic or a new fic entirely. These “new” fics might later be expounded upon at a later date as well.

Rules:

Tag me in your posts for the Celiaverse contest as well as the tag “Celiaverse Contest” and I will reblog it on here as well to share.

If you do not have a Tumblr account but follow me on Ao3 and decide to post your stuff there, put a comment on one of my Celiaverse fics and let me know and I will post a link and an excerpt of the fic on here so people on Tumblr can find it as well.

You can create as much as you want and enter all three categories if you wish.

Your art or fics do not necessarily have to focus on Celia and a romantic partner and can focus on the children, since I know you guys like Joy and Arthur and Mya and Sansa as well. They just have to take place within the Celiaverse and their house colors need to be shown correctly, so if you’re showing Sansa Lannister or Baratheon, she should be wearing their colors instead of Stark colors.

YOU CAN ALSO USE CHARACTERS FROM THE INTO THE UNKNOWN SERIES SINCE THERE IS A CELIA THERE AS WELL.

I will create a masterlist of all submitted material as well.

Judging:

Once the contest is over, I will create a poll for the three categories and post a link to them on here and on Ao3 so that everyone can go and vote on their favorite for each category. I will vote myself as well, however, my vote will only be the deciding factor if there is a tie.

Questions:

If you have any questions, feel free to message or send me an ask and I will gladly answer anything you might have to say!

Most importantly: Have fun!

[gabywantsafriend]

Dating Cameron Frye

(Not my gif)

If y’all don’t know what Chez Quis is, it’s the fancy restaurant Ferris, Sloane, and Cameron visited in the movie !! Just clearing that up in case people get confused haha

Anonymous requested:  Can you make some headcanons for dating Cameron Frye?

I enjoyed writing this! Thank you for the request :) Sorry it’s quite late, I hope you understand :’) I also hope you enjoy reading !!

-You met at Chez Quis, a fancy French restaurant. You were waiting for someone when three teenagers that looked your age strutted in. They looked quite under-dressed for such a high end eatery. 

-One of them cockily claimed that he was Abe Froman, sausage king of Chicago. ”You aren’t Mr. Froman,” You scoffed, earning their attention.

-”Oh yeah? And how would you know?” This guy was certainly arrogant.

-”I think I’d know what my Uncle Abe looked like if I saw him, thank you. I’m meeting him here, actually.”

-They got so scared that you could’ve sworn they turned white. Mr. arrogant apologized quickly, begging that you wouldn’t tell on them.

-You chuckled, that’s what he gets for messing with you. “It’s fine. I’ll let this slide only because the tall one’s cute.” You sent a wink his way.

-Cameron wasn’t really one to catch girls’ attention, so being noticed by one was new to him. You caught him off guard and the boy turned into flustered, blushing mess.

-From that moment on, he would never forget what you said about him.

-The way you put Ferris in his place and how you were also the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen had him convinced that love at first sight could actually be a real thing.

-You got to know them while you waited, calling your uncle and asking him to reschedule after befriending them. You played along, convincing the employee that Ferris was indeed the well-known sausage king while Sloane and Cameron were close friends of his. You were brought to your table and spent lunch getting to know the three better.

-You decided to join them on their adventure because you didn’t have anything better to do.

-You spent a lot of time with Cameron since Ferris and Sloane had each other to keep company.

-Throughout the course of the day, Cameron learned that you had a lot in common. Finding out that you weren’t just a pretty face who was fluent in sarcasm, but had a great and fun personality that balanced out his reluctant self made him fall even harder.

-Little does he know, you’re falling too. He was such a nice guy and you thought his timidity was adorable. His smile made your heart skip a beat.

-As the day was ending, Cameron plucked up enough courage to ask you out and you agreed.

-You had your first date at a local diner and you two talked for hours.

-A successful first date led to a second date that led to a third (where you shared your first kiss) that led to a fourth that led to a fifth that led to a sixth where he finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

-Expounding on the third date, you were in a local museum, hand-in-hand, admiring the intricate paintings that surrounded you. Cameron stole a quick glance from time to time, not-so-subtly adoring you. Your eyes were dreamy and bright, your lips were curved into a small smile. You noticed him staring and turning to him, only to be met with his lips on yours.

-Hanging out with the trio became a regular occurrence and you’d go on all sorts of excitedly troublesome adventures.

-He would always do funny impressions just to get you to laugh

-He loved your laugh. In fact, he loved everything about you.

-Double dates with Ferris and Sloane.

-Library dates.

-Picnic dates.

-Playing with his hair.

-Since Cameron is a literal giant compared to you, you tend to steal borrow his clothes often. Wearing his clothes gives you so much comfort. Your favorite item to take is his red jersey.

-Trying on his hats.

-When he sees you in his clothes, he thinks it’s the cutest damn thing in the world.

-He always buys you gifts for every occasion. And for every achievement you’ve earned. Even the most irrelevant ones. Won first place in a contest? Gift. Got an A+ on a test? Gift. Got out of bed at 5 in the afternoon? Gift. Why would he reward you for that? Easy; he sees when you give even the tiniest bit of effort, and he’s beyond proud of you. He thinks that every little thing is worth celebrating.

-Not a lot of intensive PDA because he’s shy. But he does like holding your hand when you’re out together for three reasons. Number one: it’s comforting. Number two: he wants to get the message across that you’re taken. Number three: so you wouldn’t wander off and get lost. (you tend to do that a lot.)

-But if he sees someone checking you out or making a move on you, he’ll ditch the bashfulness and full-on make out with you.

-He doesn’t get jealous often. He trusts you and you trust him.

-Gives the best hugs.

-You lose your virginity to each other at one point.

-He was a nervous wreck when you introduced him to your parents. However, they absolutely loved him. He made you so happy and they could tell. They treated him as family, making up for his lack of affectionate parental figures.

-He didn’t want his parents to find out about you. It wasn’t at all because of you, but because they were uptight and he was scared they wouldn’t like you. His dad loved a freaking car over his son, what more if it was his girlfriend. 

-You had never went to his house. He didn’t like the idea of you going there because of his parents. They would constantly fight and he didn’t want to expose you to that toxic environment. Even though you suggested coming when they weren’t home, he was afraid you’d get caught staying there and that they would forbid you from seeing each other.

-The last thing he’d want is for you to leave.

-You understood his situation and suggested keeping you guys a secret, offering to stay at your house when you wanted to hang out together.

-He thought you were the most empathetic and caring person. He often wondered how he got so lucky.

-You made him sane. He didn’t exactly have a good home life nor did he have much of a loving relationship w his parents. So he turned to you when he couldn’t seem to handle life alone.

-When he’s having a bad day, you would gladly drop everything and go to him, wherever he was. You would bring him to your house to comfort him.

-Both of you would talk for hours and cuddle in the hopes that he’d feel better.

-Peppering his face with kisses.

-Watching movies and shows together.

-Questions why you’re with him every now and then but you would always reassure him that you love him and that he was perfect.

-When you’re feeling down on the other hand, he always makes sure to be there for you. He’ll hold you tightly in his arms and will leave you to cry or scream in frustration, as long as it helps you let your troubles out.

-Gives the best advice.

-He’ll rock you back and forth while repeating soft “I love you’s” in your ear.

-You’re convinced you’ll marry him someday.

-He wants to spend his whole life with you.