#it's entirely fresh and original and I don't repeat myself

[marlynnofmany]

Where Wormholes Come From

As much as I was enjoying my Engine Rings™ cheesy snacks — and that was a great deal, since I’d just discovered them on a human-run space station — it wasn’t so much of a distraction that I didn’t notice worried voices as I walked past the cockpit.

I paused in the doorway to see Wio in her chair, tentacles adjusting the controls with nervous speed while Kavlae stood and pointed at one of the displays. I had no idea what that screen showed. But the two pilots sure seemed to, and it didn’t look good.

“Are you sure it’s organic?” Wio was asking.

“It has to be!” Kavlae said, head frills flaring. “I’ve never seen this kind of reading on anything else. Not even new technology.”

Wio muttered something unintelligible, tapping buttons and turning dials. She didn’t react when I folded my bag of crunchy snacks and shoved it in a pocket.

I leaned into the room. “Is something wrong?”

Kavlae looked up at that, the picture of blue-skinned concern. “Possibly,” she admitted. “Dangerous, at any rate. I was making a final sweep for the end of my shift, and I think I’ve found a fresh wormhole.”

I waited for more information, but didn’t get any. “Why is that bad?”

“Because it clearly wasn’t made with any technology I’ve seen,” Kavlae said with a melodramatic sweep of a hand. “There are organic traces and rough edges. This is fresh.”

Before I could repeat my question, Wio chimed in. “And a fresh wormhole might mean the worm is still around, among other things.”

“Uh,” I said. Apparently my Earth-bound education about space travel had missed a key point. “I did not know wormholes are made by actual worms. I thought people built them? Or they just happen?”

“People do build them,” Wio said. She finished messing with the controls and twisted her tentacles around each other. “And the way they ‘just happen’ is because of the space worms. Which we don’t want to get anywhere near.”

Kavlae waved me forward. “You’ve got good color vision, right? See if anything long and wiggly shows up on these scans. It’ll be subtle; they’re probably in deep.”

I stepped up to the row of small screens under the main one, full of questions. “Deep in what, hyperspace? Why do we want to avoid them? Are they predatory? Or territorial, or easily startled?” The main screen just showed the usual stars, but the little ones were a riot of charts and diagrams. Kavlae pointed at the one that was an incomprehensible swirl of yellow and green.

“Yes, hyperspace,” Wio said.

“They’re not predatory,” Kavlae said with certainty.

“Well, how do we know?” Wio countered.

“There have been studies!” Kavlae said. “They eat the fabric of space-time itself, not spaceships.”

“What about the chewy center of those spaceships?” Wio retorted.

“There have been studies,” Kavlae insisted.

Part of the green image did look a little wormy. I wondered whether I should interrupt, not sure if I was imagining it, then I remembered Eggskin the medic’s offhand comment on how good human eyesight was in picking out shades of green — just like edible vs non-edible plants back home. Maybe the two pilots really couldn’t see something that I could.

“Is that—” I started.

“Anyways, it’s not the space worms you need to worry about,” Wio spoke over me. “It’s the space moles that follow.”

The universe has perfect timing, because that was the moment a clear green line appeared on the chart, straight as an arrow and moving fast.

Kavlae squeaked, pointing at the screen.

Wio made a popping noise that I recognized as a swear word, and pressed several buttons at once.

A snakelike shape the color of starlight erupted into sight on the main screen, glowing as it curled back down a brand new wormhole, right in front of our ship. Which stopped in its tracks, all three of us yelling in surprise.

But that was nothing compared to the enormous black shape that clawed its way out of the starfield in hot pursuit. It was a different shade of black from the void of space, but I couldn’t say which. All I made out in that adrenaline-filled moment was claws, teeth, and terrifyingly large.

We screamed in three different octaves as the ripples in space hit the ship, rocking it even with the artificial gravity. I heard something crash down the hall. Other people were yelling. They didn’t matter.

The space mole really was going after the worm, not us — it plowed back down into the surface of reality, digging in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. And it was so, so fast.

The mole disappeared with one last kick of a barely-seen foot or tail or something else. The starfield rippled and shook like the surface of a pond. I realized I was clutching the back of Wio’s chair. Alarms were going off on the console.

After a moment in which nothing else jumped out at us, I managed to convince my fingers to let go. Kavlae collapsed into her own chair. The little screen was calm yellow. Without a word, Wio changed our course to somewhere presumably safer.

Running footsteps sounded in the hall, leading to a traffic jam of concern in the doorway: all tentacles and frills and very wide eyes. A calm but stern voice cut through the chatter. The crowd parted to let Captain Sunlight through, every inch the levelheaded and unflappable role model who wasn’t about to let some turbulence and screaming rattle her. She was wiping what looked like orange soup off one yellow-scaled hand. But she did it with dignity.

“What happened?” she asked.

I answered first. “Space worm and a space mole.”

“Really,” the captain said while the hallway exploded into conversation.

“They almost hit us!” Kavlae exclaimed, waving arms and frills from where she sat slumped in her chair.

“Any damage?” Captain Sunlight asked.

“Nope,” Wio said, with surprising cheer. “And I have better news.” She manipulated the controls some more, then sat back as a framed image appeared in the middle of the main screen. “I got a recording.”

Everyone exclaimed about that while the captured footage played. I was torn between watching it again because it was amazing, and watching the little yellow screen for more hints of green. I tried to do both.

“Well done,” Captain Sunlight said. “I know just the scientists to give first shot at that recording. And knowing them, this may end up in a very lucrative bidding war. You just make sure you get us to our destination safely!”

“Absolutely, Captain!” Wio said with a twirl of a tentacle. “I will keep a close eye on all the readouts.”

“I’ll help,” I volunteered, eyeing a suspicious green tinge that was probably nothing.

“I will take a nap,” Kavlae declared. “Then come back early.”

Wio waved her toward the crowded doorway. “Take your time! You need some rest after that. Don’t worry; we’ll scream if there’s anything important.”

“I’ll remind you that we do have an intercom,” said the captain drily.

I replied, “Screaming’s faster.”

Wio said at the same time, “We’ll scream over the intercom if there’s anything important.”

Captain Sunlight huffed in amusement. “Of course you will. Right! Everyone else, go check the ship for damaged items. Mur, help Mimi in the engine room. Paint, go with Eggskin; medbay first, then kitchen.” She rattled off more assignments to make sure all the important rooms were looked into. Then she ushered everyone on their way, and headed back to whatever she’d been doing. Probably cleaning up spilled soup.

With a glance at Wio, I took Kavlae’s chair, hands folded carefully in my lap. The snacks in my pocket crinkled. I left them there — I wasn’t about to make a mess in the cockpit, nor would I touch a single thing.

But that yellow-and-green swirl, oh I would be watching that very carefully.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[dreamtigress]

#79 please!

79. Do you have any writing advice you want to share?

I am seriously honored to be asked this one.

Of note, my advice is geared towards the way my neurodivergent brain works, so mileage may vary. AuDHD for the win.

In whatever way you like to write/keep notes, make an Ideas/Notes document, and jot down all of the ideas that come to you. Be they snippets, a new piece of headcannon, a chunk of dialogue, whatever. Whenever they come, and you can get 'em down, nail those suckers down. You might never use them, or they might get edited beyond recognition, but I know that if I make note of them, I won't lose them to the ether. To that end, if I'm driving and an IDEA comes, I call and leave myself a voicemail. I can access my notes doc from any internet connection, and jot down ideas ALL the time. It is so advantageous.

I don't always write linearly. I have a ongoing timeline to keep track of my stories and ideas in order, and what things happen when, but I tend to write when the muse hits for a specific piece. I do sit down and try to finish things, in some semblance of order, but I don't force it. I allow myself to work on the piece that is speaking to me, that is delivering the dopamine. I can swap back and forth between WIPs fairly easily now.

Go back and re-read your own work when trying to find or remember a specific characters voice. Often, when I sit down to write a POV, I will go and skim other sections by that same character to give myself a refresher on how they sound in my head and look on the page. As I expand into more varied character POVs, this has become super helpful.

My workflow tends to go:

Rough/First Draft (get it all down, even if it is a little choppy.)

First Edit Run (soon after finishing the rough draft, if not immediately. Refine dialogue, add in bits of background, describe emotions/moods, double check if the physical blocking makes sense.)

Second Edit Run (Usually a day or three after the First Edit. Double check that all the additions FLOW.)

Find _ Edit Run (Using Find to look for repeated/overused words, like 'look', and any 'had hads' or '*'d hads'. I dislike repeating words, and the Thesaurus is my friend. This one goes super quick.)

Read Aloud Edit Run (Read the entire work aloud to myself. This is so key in finding hidden repeated words, badly placed alliteration, clunky dialogue, and run on sentences. It also helps me place punctuation better.)

Final Edit Run (Usually weeks after the original writing. I give myself time and space to 'forget' the work, and then come back with fresh eyes. I usually change very little at this stage, but sometime there's last minute tweaks. If Beta readers have given me feedback, this is usually when I implement it.)

@stormkpr I am so jazzed to get to answer this question, seriously. And it has actually helped me clarify some of my own thoughts on writing, so THANK YOU!!

From here: https://www.tumblr.com/dreamtigress/745684465673748480/fanfiction-writing-asks?source=share

[pangtasias-atelier]

Cafe Chonkies

This has been in my drafts for some time but finally churned out another idea for a l3agu3 story. This is kinda jokey at the beginning cause it's funny and also cause I kept adding to this story so now it's at like 5k words lmao. Also don't worry about how any of this makes sense in canon cause I sure didn't lmao

Featuring Yo/ne, Se/tt, & Ka/yn cause this is a gift for @beepboop260 despite me being a day late lol

Warning: This is a fetish story!

“I’m to do, what?” Kayn smooths out the singular minor crease on the very bottom flap of his black suit. In his uniform, the stuffy attire never feels quite right compared to his more casual style of dressing, but with a tantalizingly nice paycheck always awaiting him, Kayn can put up with the effort of appearing somewhat proper. Said paycheck is nice enough for him to get past his small beginner belly that is clearly evident by the form fitting suit.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Kayn having questioned his boss, she ignores his pointless question. Instead, Renata Glasc pulls out a cigar. And it’s the fattest, biggest stogie known to man, it juts out a several feet in front of Renata as she lights it and takes a drag. And she blows the smoke at Kayn directly into his face as if he were a poor, small Victorian child. Which he might as well be next to her, Renata one of the most disgustingly filthy rich people in all of Valor. 

Of course, with so much money built off the back breaking, dulling work from everyone besides oneself, laundering money is a necessity. Renata’s cutthroat nature involving anything and everything meant that a fair amount of what was meant to be simple “business ventures” actually flourished. 

One such business being a maid cafe, the idea originally pitched by the upcoming group of interns hired to help the company keep an aware mind of the spending habits of the younger generation. And also for free labor, mostly for free labor actually. The idea eventually proposed to the companies’ executives through spinning the narrative by somehow making it about turning gender norms around by creating a maid cafe with instead butlers to allow women to regain empowerment and also even creating an lgbtqia+ friendly environment, the idea had been approved like many others all to secretly launder money. 

What no one had expected — no one besides Renata who easily predicted the likelihood of such a venture gaining traction — was that the many degenerates who enjoyed going to such places would easily fund said businesses. And there was no shortage of equally degenerate individuals who would apply for such a job, especially one that paid well — nowhere near close to the amount that Renata herself earned of course.

As Kayn coughs into his gloved hand, his smoke delirious mind envisioning as if the smoke was forming around his neck and choking him, Renata takes a second drag of her fat ass cigar. 

“Well? The boss shouldn’t have to be at the store for work to get done,” Blowing one more puff of smoke at Kayn, Renata passes by the no smoking sign as she goes into her office. 

Now free, he takes off his gloves so as to not dirty them. Kayn first opens the couple of windows that can be opened. He takes a few deep breaths of fresh, non-smoke filled air before doing what Renata asked of him. He rummages through the store’s stock of food. Clearly told which items to grab, he grabs everything that is within thirty days of expiring. He grabs a bevy of different pastries, the sugary calorie dense sweets piled onto a couple massively wide serving trays. And after finishing that, he starts digging through the entire stock of drinks. The place trying to maintain a semblance of upscaleness — a point that allowed them to easily upcharge on everything — Kayn pulls out all the fresh ingredients close to expiring. He places them on the counter and sorts them by recipes. Having memorized a good chunk of recipes from his long time working here, the task goes by quickly as he sees which drinks can be made from just near expiring stuff. Upon completing that, Renata’s project finished, Kayn organizes the pastries a bit better to help make the bundle of food more appealing. 

Eventually, he hears the faint chime of the doorbell at the front. Without even paying much attention, he walks over to go open the door, the other two employees right on time.

The two of them far newer than everyone else, the two had quickly become popular with the store’s clientele. Which when next together makes evident why both had become popular. 

A fiery red mop of hair atop an outstandingly tall figure, Sett has much more than just height to draw in a crowd. His entire figure teems and bulges with muscles, Sett seeming out of place working in such a place instead of being in a bodybuilder competition. His suit is tailored just like all the other employees, the sleeves of his suit just stretchy enough to not tear from his powerful biceps that can rival the size of someone’s head even when only mildly flexed. His chest similarly strains his suit. His breast pocket had gone unused ever since joining, no room to fit anything inside with how much space his jutting chest takes up. His suit remains unbuttoned, a purposeful decision to show off the struggling buttons of his white button up. His body thick and wide, the tiny gaps of his shirt offer the smallest window into seeing his tanned defined abs. Sett’s trousers are also designed with the similar mindset of giving the customers what they want. His perky bubble butt gained through years of dedication to squats and cycling is perfectly outlined. His rear is equally a spot of admiration from the guests, many grabbing it just as they do his pecs and biceps. His strong thighs also press against the thin yet durable fabric of his trousers, the defined musculature even visible. His trousers tailored to taper along the hard contours of Sett’s body, even his bulging calves seem impressive. 

Next to Sett is another rather large individual. Piercing black hair that drapes all the way down the man’s back is Yone. Yone stands at a rather short height, his slightly below average height typical of those from his country. However, his musculature is atypical. Or rather, his clear lack of it. For Yone is a complete butterball. Originally only a bit past pudgy, Yone’s time at his new job easily found him packing on the pounds. His rather sizable tummy is now doughy enough to sag down to just barely cover his crotch, his belly covering up his fat pad. The lone, singular button on his suit is actually buttoned. Although it is strained by holding back the waterfall of flab. The shape of his chunky love handles are accentuated by the flaps of his suit, the material curving outward to accommodate Yone’s flabby curves. Both his soft, squishy gut and love handles receive special attention from the cafe’s guests, Yone getting his own demanding share of attention from the usuals. The suit is tailored to make sure that it fits him well; the sleeves bulge from his bulky arms, the flabby rolls that encase Yone’s biceps outlined. Despite Yone’s top heavy figure, his rear still has a good amount of heft to it. His ass shakes and wobbles behind him, the two cushiony piles of lard stretching his pants. His thighs also shake and quiver from waddling around the store.

The fact that they joined at the same time helped further everyone’s enamorment with them, the duo practically being given almost always the same shifts like today. Which made sense with the two being a couple, Yone only applying due to Sett’s insistence. And because they both needed the money. 

The intrigue of hiring a duo had captured Renata’s attention, the boss herself bothering to care about the cafe due to the enjoyment of seeing what she considered people desperate enough to work at such a place and the people degenerate enough to stay and enjoy the humiliation. The two being in a relationship was meaningless, not with Human Resources preferring to protect the company rather than the individual. 

Kayn unlocks the door with the keys given to him and stands aside as he opens the door for the two to walk in. Individually of course, the doorway not quite made with the expectation of two large men entering together. Sett ducks slightly, his ears scraping against the top of the door otherwise. Yone feels the sides of his gut brush against the door, his face always turning a faint shade of blush like every day he starts his shift. Kayn flips the sign to open before closing back the door so as to avoid a draft. 

Next to the other two, Kayn is far more plain. Standing at an unassuming height of just a couple inches above average. The most striking feature about him is the scar on his left eye. A feature which adds to his edgy, bad boy vibe and charm that attracts a different clientele compared to Sett and Yone. Though the two’s clientele have begun to rub off on Kayn, the longer working employee having gained a bit of heft from all the food offered to him. Far from fat, his stomach is only a small beginner’s belly. The extra food coupled with Kayn’s usual workout routine now leaves him with a slight bit of both musculature and pudge. Which the cafe’s usuals enjoy with them having another one to poke and prod and feel up. 

Sett is the first of the two to notice the stockpiled food on the counter. “Oh hey, it’s clean out day,” Walking side by side with Yone, he pats his boyfriend on his doughy back with what would usually be an infectious grin if not for the only other men being the grumpy Kayn and stoic Yone.

“You wouldn’t stop mentioning it during our entire day off,” Like the rest of the employees, the trio only work four days of the week so as to not be full time and receive benefits; as such, Yone had specifically been given the day before and after today’s expected busy day. Yone waddles on over to go behind the counter, careful to properly maneuver and bump into the furniture with his large, sagging belly and wide hips. His stomach gurgles and grumbles, the fat male clearly a bit famished. Sett follows directly behind Yone; he grabs and fondles his belly, feeling the heft of it like he always does.

“I’ll prepare everything. You,” Kayn points at Yone. “Go sit on the main couch cause otherwise, you’ll eat everything before anyone gets here. Sett can help make sure everything is clean,” Kayn bossing the other around often, the other two do as told. Sett does his task with much more fervor than Yone, the obese butler grumbling as he does as instructed. Sett makes a show of his cleaning, an extra swish in his hips and ass with what should be simple movements. And flexing his huge biceps by lifting the largest pieces of furniture to dust them. 

The beginning of the day is pretty much dead, which is to be expected when the first day of the month is on a Wednesday. Despite not opening until noon, the day starts off with a slow unsteady trickle of customers coming and going. But the ones that do. make sure to take advantage of the day’s special offer always provided on the first of every month — a tradition that began shortly after Yone’s employment. 

Expired goods once being thrown away straight to garbage instead of being offered to food insecure people lest people believe Renata to be anything resembling a humanitarian, the business’ clientele allowed to do basically whatever they wanted to the staff — which isn’t far off from any other job offering customer service — allowed the guests to offer food to their staff. Food purchased only from the cafe, of course. But to help boost sales, and save what would usually expire, anything purchased came with the bonus of an extra pastry or small beverage, which would more often than not be fed to the usual victim, Yone. It takes approximately a little more than thirty minutes of being open before they receive any guests.

They receive two at once, the both of them clearly together. 

“Welcome! Come on in,” Sett greets them with a simple flex of his right arm, not willing to show off everything right away — especially when mostly everyone today is mostly going to be here for Yone. Despite the two being usuals, they still fawn and aww over Sett. Well, one does; the other goes straight to the counter to order and bother Kayn. Sett looks down as he feels a pair of hands on his chest. “Damn, you always do get handsy. Not that I mind,” Unable to get the best look because of his chest and with his guest barely coming up to his tits, he smirks at the bit of his customer. Sett allows himself to be manhandled. He holds back his laughter from hearing Kayn’s harsh remarks as he gets grabbed, the cashier’s demeaning nature a turn on for some people.

“If you’re going to harass someone, go bother the lardass on the couch,” Kayn hands two of the free pastries, but not without getting a pat on his small tummy. Which leaves him with a scalding red blush on his face.

Sett soon ushers his own guest to go bother Yone. “Seems like your friend is done. Go give Yone a good squeeze for me,” 

And so, Yone promptly ends up with both of them at the same time. The couch is thankfully wide enough to accommodate multiple people even with Yone sitting on it; Yone sits in the center while the two customers sit on each side of Yone. The two given their own bonus pastry as they await their order, they hold it out with an eager outstretched hand for Yone to eat. Their extra hands both rest on Yone’s great, big belly.

Money being money, Yone shifts into his usual work behavior. “It warms my heart to see such treasured guests once again. How may I help you?” Yone deepens his voice ever so slightly. He leans back into the couch, both of his arms outstretched on the couch behind both guests.

Both of his guests giggle to themselves, both of them used to Yone’s portrayal of the stoic, caring butler, especially when Yone basically does nothing throughout most of his shift besides eating whatever is handed to him. The two clearly together, they take turns offering their treat to the large man. Both of them rest against his cushiony figure, sinking into the sides of his flabby, rotund gut. Yone tries to take small bites of the confections — the blueberry muffin and cream cheese danish always some of his favorites — but the guests nearly shove the treats down his hungry maw, Yone forced to eat larger bites. The confections are some of his favorites, though everything is Yone’s favorite whenever it comes to whatever the guests feed him. 

“Ah, such ea-” Yone’s words are cut off with the final bite of the danish shoved into his mouth. Though he doesn’t object much or at all even, instead he greedily chomps down on the offered delectable treat with a bit of a flush to his face. And before he can properly fully enjoy the aftertaste of the danish, the rest of the blueberry muffin is similarly crammed into him. 

“Alright, here’s your food,” Carrying one server tray in his right hand, Kayn brings the two their food — though it’s more so Yone’s food considering everyone feeds him like a pet waiting for its treats which isn’t too far off from the truth. Small tables are situated at both ends of the couch. So Kayn places the food on each table, a decently sized bowl of soup on one table and a hefty sandwich on the other end plus a complimentary water with each serving. “Enjoy your food. Though it seems this hog is going to be the one enjoying it,” Kayn reaches forward to grab Yone’s gut. He pushes against the mass of blubber, seeing the way his hands sink into and squish Yone’s blubber. “Make sure to enjoy him as much as you can,” And with a final smack to the side of Yone’s gut, Kayn heads back to the counter to await whenever the next guest comes on such a slow day.

“Open wide,” Yone’s guests ask, no command of him. Careful to not waste a single bit of the food, one of them brings the sandwich to Yone’s mouth. He dutifully chomps down on the meal; the well toasted bread crunching as he chews on it, the warmed cured meats and cheeses seemingly melting in his mouth as the still cool spinach and tomatoes offer a bit of contrast. As he chews, his other guest wipes away the crumbs that dust his cherubic cheeks and chin. He promptly is given a spoonful of soup. A simple, warm tomato soup offered to him, Yone can taste the hint of rosemary and basil that compliments it. He can barely make out the distant grin coming from Kayn who made it exactly as Yone likes. The soup is also at just the right temperature so as to not burn his tongue. The two keep a steady tempo of feeding Yone, both of them clearly experienced at stuffing the store’s big porcine pet. Their turns of swapping are only interrupted when they bring their water to Yone and make him chug, forcing Yone to drink his fill. That and when Yone inevitably finished the sandwich first. Immediately after that, he’s promptly coerced into chugging the rest of the soup, the bowl brought and tipped to his lips while he leans his head back to eagerly devour it all. 

Yone accepts everything that’s handed to him, eager to please his two guests. He keeps on eating even when they order another soup and sandwich. He eats the extra pair of free sweets and the soup and sandwich afterwards. He eats it all without a single complaint until they stop offering him food. He allows them to rub his belly, the two of them squeezing and rubbing it as if it were both a stress ball and a good luck charm before they head out.

“Good job. Now you gotta last the rest of the shift,” Sett chuckles at Yone while he picks up the plates of food. He whistles to himself, aware that even if the day will be slow overall, it will inevitably pick up.

And pick up it does; it never gets as crazy as it does on the weekends, but the customers come and go in a steady stream. All of them come for the big main attraction, Yone. The food at the cafe rather decent, everyone at least buys one thing to pawn off to Yone, the dedicated fat butler eating every single bite offered to him. He even gets a whole group at once not too far off from closing, a whole gaggle of men greedily grabbing and feeding Yone as much as he eats. Which is all of it, the plump, fat Yone taking everything offered to him. Yone’s eyes droop throughout his shift with more and more food beginning to settle inside him. But he continues to lazily nod along to whatever is said to him, Yone also beginning to speak less and less as his mind starts to focus more on the stuffed nature of his gut. He lazily opens his mouth to every forkful and spoonful of what is given to him. His stomach loses its gelatinous and saggy nature, the ball of fat growing firmer with less give to it from all the food. And his guests love it, playing and rubbing his gut. Every single pair of hands seem to find their way to Yone’s gut, his skin slowly peeking more throughout his shirt as his shift goes by.

Thankfully for Yone, the very last hour of the day has them seeing no customers, Yone able to catch his breath after the stream of guests. His gut furiously churns with so much stuffed inside him; the sound seems to reverberate in his brain, his upset belly refusing to go unheard of. Yone simply remains seated in his couch, waiting for a possible last minute guest that never comes.

And as soon as the clock hits closing time, Kayn flips the sign over to ‘closed’. After locking the door, he heads back to the counter/kitchen to clean up. Sett cleans and organizes the front of the store. Meanwhile, Yone remains seated on his fat ass, a mess of groans now that all the guests are gone. He reaches down to whatever bit of his gut he can reach. So bloated, the button had come undone some time ago by most likely one of the several many guests who’d stuffed him.

Yone is fully reclined into the back of the couch. Having not moved at all throughout his entire shift, the couch has a large Yone-sized indent in the very center. The frame sags and bends down its center from his weight. His large gut rests atop his cushiony thighs. The exposed mass of blubber making up his stomach churns and gurgles from all the food stuffed and crammed into him. His stomach is far more taut than it usually is. The popped bottom few buttons of his shirt leave the lower half skin of his bloated belly exposed, the lower bits of flab escaping and sagging down the gaps of fabric; it also shows off his happy trail, the small trail of body hair thickening and widening the further it goes down his gut. Yone is nearly a groaning mess. He attempts to assuage the bubbling discomfort in his gut by rubbing his distended tummy. He reaches down as far as he can get, his hands only really able to reach the upper echelon of blubber above his cavernous navel.

“You feeling full yet, Yone?” Yone groans as Sett pats his engorged stomach. 

"Ughhh," Yone groans in response to Sett's question before letting out a small burp. "Soo full…" He remains seated on the wide couch, refusing to budge even an inch so as to not upset his tummy. His gut furiously makes its stuffed state known, his taxed belly churning and bubbling to do its best to digest the several pounds of food Yone ate during his shift; his belly refuses for its complaints to go unheard, Yone unabashedly groaning and wincing now with no guests present. He has his eyes closed.

And then he hears noise in the kitchen, the blender whirring to life as it’s put to work.

Kayn soon comes out behind the counter with a nearly full blender in his hand. And a makeshift funnel in the other.

Yone can feel his stomach churning just from him looking at the oh so full container of liquid coming his way. Yet he can’t get up, his oh so full belly making it difficult for him to do so.

“And here we have the last bit of leftovers,” Kayn has his usual shit eating grin on his face as he towers over the seated Yone. “Made sure to save some to make a special little shake for you,” Kayn delicately presses his fingers against the upper bit of Yone’s gut.

Yone tries his best to squirm away but his churning gut refuses to let him budge without a modicum of pain. Doing his best to look at Sett, he only sees his boyfriend happily grinning at the sight. Sett also has his phone pulled out, clearly recording the whole situation. That only turns Yone on, the thought of others seeing him like this-. He moans before he can finish that thought.

“You know damn well he approves of this. Now, open up,” Kayn smiles as Yone doesn’t even put up a fight, the butterball always happy to eat now, and think later. Kayn places the funnel in Yone’s mouth. Despite wishing to cram more food in his gut, Kayn does, at the least, make sure to not put any pressure on Yone while he kneels on the couch to fill him up. Kayn tips the end of the blender. The thick shake seems to slowly trickle down the funnel, Kayn never once losing his smile.

Yone accepts and awaits his fate. He has his eyes closed. The viscous, cloyingly sweet shake gushes down Yone’s funnel, the poor overstuffed man forced to accept his fat as he struggles to chug it all. He focuses on only drinking all of the shake and not his churning, gurgling bomb for a stomach that seems to kick and punch itself frown how much food Yone can and loves to put away. Each desperate, haggard gulp of shake that Yone takes is only replaced by more and more of the shake awaiting him, begging him to eat it all and satisfy the bit of his brain that craved to eat and stuff himself even more. Especially when he has an obedient audience of two in front of him. Kayn is unrelenting with the flow, but the rapid speed at which he pours the shake — and the rapid pace at which Yone devours it all — helps to make it not last too long. Soon enough, Yone finds the funnel pulled out of his mouth, the excruciating task of guzzling the entire blender worth of shake over as quickly as it began. 

“Damn,” Is all Kayn can utter upon seeing just how fast and obediently Yone put it all away. Turning to look at the now done recording Sett, all he gets is a thumbs up and a grin, Sett well aware of Yone’s submissive nature when it comes to food. Yone is a mess of huffs; he can only really take in quick yet deep gulps of air to try and hopefully wait out the pain of his entire stomach aching.

“You poor thing,” Sett joining the two, he truly towers over the seated, massive Yone. Yone averts his gaze, his face flushed. “Your fatass must be emaciated to be able to eat all of that,” Sett taunts Yone, the stuffed man turning more furiously red.

Kayn’s eyes widen slightly upon Yone’s continued reactions, his behavior suddenly painfully obvious to him. “And here I thought you had a bit more self-respect,” Kayn smiles down on Yone. “But you’re nothing more than a submissive glutton,” Kayn leans forward and places a slight amount of pressure on Yone who can do nothing else but whimper. “I’ll make sure to remember that for the future,” Kayn gives Yone a wink. He also goes back to his corner of the store to clean up.  But not before giving Yone a small appreciative pat on his overstuffed tummy.

Sett does the same, the two working quickly to finish everything before they get a furious work email about overtime not being a thing for them. 

Yone just remains seated, trying his best to digest everything. He stays in his spot on the couch even when Kayn finishes and gives him a couple headpats before heading out. Yone waits for Sett, his boyfriend not having much left to clean.

And as soon as Sett finishes cleaning up he walks on over to Yone. Clearly unaffected by the large binges having taken place today, Sett retains every ounce of powerful muscle on his frame. "Let's get you home, big guy," Sett leans over to help him up, bringing a powerful bicep to help him up. He peels Yone up off of the couch. And Yone quickly uses Sett's body to lean on. His big gut sloshes and sways with his heavy step. His entire frame jiggles and wobbles from the effort of waddling to maneuver such wide, fat thighs. One step after the other, Yone is a mess of groans, the movement clearly upsetting his gut. A gut that makes its stuffed state known not only to Yone but to Sett as well, the churning of his stomach extremely loud. 

"Hang in there," Sett rests a now ungloved hand on Yone's gut, Sett having removed his gloves immediately after work. After slowly easing Yone through the doorway, in which Yone has to walk through sideways. Both his ass and gut graze against the sides of it. The building armed and locked and secured, Sett continues helping Yone walk with such a full gut. 

"I-I…" Yone manages to groan out while he uncomfortably walks despite so much food crammed into him. His porcine face creates a deepened frown from his doughy jowls. 

Sett grins as he helps Yone along; Sett grabs and pinches Yone's blubbery rolls. “Come on, we’re on after work hours now. Just say what's on your mind, or your gut in your case ‘cause that seems to do most of your thinking. Not that I mind, big fella,” Sett nimbly positions himself to stand in front of Yone. Leaning down, he uses one hand to help lift up Yone’s gut; his other hand reaches all the way down to Yone’s hand, a big heaping of Yone’s fat ass gripped. Sett leans down to kiss Yone, the much fatter man doing his best to lean into the embrace, even as Sett eventually breaks apart with a deep breath.

"I'm… kinda hungry… again…" Yone whines out. He leans a bit more of his crushing weight against Sett, Sett the only one able to truly support and help him. 

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Yone squirms under Sett's patting of his gut. "I'll make sure to properly fill that tank of yours, cause damn you can put away food," Sett picks up the pace.

Yone hums in agreement. Always so difficult to feel absolutely, completely stuffed, his current pretty bloated sensation feels nice but not quite enough. He takes careful steps to follow Sett's lead, stomach already churning to make room for extra food, the two always taking advantage of the job's free food to stuff him silly and plan to continue and take advantage of.

[little-peril-stories]

Happy STS! So if you don't mind, imma keep asking questions about The Queen of Lies until the big day arrives (whenever that may be!) Consider me your unofficial hype machine.

What was the biggest challenge or difficulty you encountered in the course of writing TQOL that you didn't have when writing TPOT? Did it surprise you? And why do you think it was an issue here and not in the original story?

Thank you, Claire, for the ask! Happy STS! Even though it's Wednesday!! I super do not mind, and I'm sorry I took a while to get to this. I'm staying with family and my free time always gets kind of messed up when that happen.

I love having you as my unofficial hype machine and I appreciate it so so much!!! 💕

This is such a good question. I have been pondering it for days. I kinda got rambling so I'll add a Read More to avoid taking up too much real estate on the dash.

One thing I struggled with: writing Will so that his snark and defiance still felt fun and fresh despite the fact that we've met him in this way before, but also writing Will so that he still felt like the same person. His character arc is really different in TQOL, and his struggles and suffering are largely (though not entirely) of a different sort as well. We get to see a different side of him for at least part of the AU, and I guess I feared accidentally just making him into a whole new character. I still want him to feel like himself.

(Of course, this wasn't an issue for TPOT because it was the first time I was writing him and I had nothing to 'keep consistent' to.)

So...yeah. Keeping the characters consistent from TPOT to TQOL was a big challenge. Colette also got a bit of this; she definitely reads a little different in the AU, although there are plot reasons why, and I did pull from one (TPOT) scene in particular to explore one aspect of her character we really only see once(ish) in TPOT.

I didn't worry about this for Breanna because as far as I'm concerned, she is a different person, and this story is of how she grows into someone far more like Bree.

If I'm being honest, my biggest challenge with TQOL is happening, like...now. I've started my readthrough and will soon be preparing to post it. The story just kind of fell out of me, so fast that I didn't have much time to second-guess myself, but that's all coming out now.

is it realistic enough? (super did not care about this while writing TPOT; now there are some things I would edit out)

was I too mean to [character] in [x] chapters? (in TPOT, there are like 2 things from early in the story that I feel were either 'too mean' or 'not realistic' and I may very well edit them out, but I didn't have this concern. Even though I was, like, really mean to the characters.)

did I do enough time period research? (super did not care about this for TPOT. enjoy your anachronisms. yum yum.)

did I treat [x] subject with the appropriate amount of sensitivity, care, and respect? (in TPOT, I really only had this concern with *that one chapter* but with TQOL, there's a few things I'm nervous about)

even though I knowingly and purposely repeated some plot elements/tropes because I wanted to see if I could / because I just wanted to, will readers see that as cheap or lazy? (n/a to TPOT)

is there enough whump for the whump people? (n/a to TPOT. there is whump aplenty in there)

is the romance executed well enough for the romance people? (lol in TPOT I was allergic to Bree & Will's romance until the bitter end so this was...not really on my mind)

and the list goes on.

Thank you so much for your question. It made me think a lot!

[apalestar]

A couple of hours had passed, since Gale and Astarion discussed the recent "development" in their relationship—or, more precisely, since Astarion confessed that his original intentions were to use Gale's broken heart as a form of security and protection. Gale had fallen all too willingly and completely. From the Mountain Pass, through the Underdark, and now across the Shadow-Cursed lands, there was no denying that Gale had fallen in love with Astarion.

The confession would have shattered his heart completely, but for one line—a tether of hope that it was not all in vain: "Perhaps I did somewhere along the line." Gale had requested some time to ponder all that had been said. Emotions ran high, and what he thought he had built with Astarion was too precious to toss away with regretted phrases.

Initially, he anticipated an entire night of sleepless anguish and doubts. Yet, funnily enough, a brief stroll around the inn and some time by the lake shore solidified his decision. He wanted to be with Astarion, in whatever way the vampire was capable of having him. He had already carelessly thrown away a valued relationship in his life; he wasn't willing to repeat that mistake. Swiftly, he left the sandy shore and marched toward Astarion's tent, forgetting the concept of knocking and making a decisive entrance.

"I care about you, Astarion. I understand you said I should find something real, but you were real to me. You are real to me. I don't want to lose this—us. If you harbour any feelings for me and wish for us to try again, a fresh start, something slow, anything, in whatever way works, I would be there."

@galefcrce fishing for fluff again.

Astarion despised how easily he’d fallen into his own trap. Honestly hadn’t come easily. Laying his cards on the table for scrutiny. Weaving his words and obscuring their meaning came more naturally. But he was glad he did. Gale deserved more than his manipulations. He had watched as Gale departed his tent. Already he hardened his heart in preparation for the rejection. A pain he was unfamiliar with. Even the passages of the fourth novel in the Drizz’t series couldn’t tear him from.

Muscles twitched at the sudden intrusion. The feeling of fight or flight nearly sent him to coil his hand about one of his many daggers. Don’t people ever announce themselves in this camp anymore?

Gale captured the entirety of his attention despite the rude entrance. The smile that breaks over Astarion's lips came slowly, but it’s genuine. It’s very real. He listened scarily believing what he was hearing. Any eloquence or wittiness eluded him. “Really?”

Meeting Gale’s eyes and really looking him over, Astarion knew the man was telling the truth. For once someone wanted him for him. Not just his body. And that felt better than anything he had experienced in a long, long time. He reached over taking the wizard’s hand into his own.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” The usual lilt of his voice cracked under it all. A momentary lapse before the rogue caught himself. “But I do want this.” He clasped Gale’s hand completely now. Not that he could put words yet to what he was feeling just that he did.

“We'll do this slowly, I suppose. Improvise our way through just like everything else.” Long term planning wasn’t his strong point. In the spirit of remaining honest… “I. I need time. Before we share our bodies with one another. Sex, if I’m not making myself perfectly clear.” He recognized the need to unravel the disgust he felt during it. Not on account of Gale, but what he endured under him.

But for now, holding hands like this… it was nice.

[narratingvoice]

Do you ever get bored of telling the same story over and over again? As a fellow writer and artist, I am constantly craving new stimuli and trying to get new ideas out there. There has been many times where I have been working on a story and have had so many other ideas, but I can’t bring myself to make them until this one is finished. I doubt that you will grow tired of Stanley as a character (for totally platonic reasons, I am sure), but if Stanley went through the planned freedom ending. Every. Single. Time. Don’t you think that you would get bored? As would he?

Hmm. Would I get bored? I suppose I've never thought about it before. Would it really matter if I did? Does a stage actor get bored repeating the same lines night after night? Maybe they would eventually, if they only had the one role to perform their entire life. But I haven't been doing this my whole life, and anyway I'm not like a human actor. I'm a Narrator. It's not just a job description, and it's not just my name, it's what I am. It is my purpose in this world. I'd still do it even if I was bored, as long as the fans want to hear it.

You're absolutely right about Stanley getting bored, of course; he's already told me so, and I'm sure it would be much worse if I forced him to do the same ending over and over. But the good news is neither of us want that. I have plenty more ideas for an engaging game, which is why I'm developing The Stanley Parable 2, so I can give the world a whole new adventure with Stanley. He loves my new content as well - well, most of it - and we're both very excited to be doing something fresh. But my point is, just because we're doing a sequel doesn't mean the original story has to fall by the wayside. It's still there, you can still experience it any time you like.

I'm glad to hear you have so many ideas as an artist. Feed that hunger! Don't get hung up on perfectionism, just put yourself out there! The world will always need more art!

[guksauce]

~Mocha~

One Shot

Pairing: Knj Barista x Reader AU

Word Count: 1,398K

Rated: E

One Shot Warnings: Flirty Namjoon, Coffee Genius, Extra long descriptions for no reason DON’T COME FOR ME.

Author: @guksauce

Notes: 💜Let me first just thank Kim Namjoon for being an absolute amazing person. For being a king. For being our president. For loving us. He is and forever will be protected. 💜 And thank you to those of you who give this story and myself all the love 💖

Soundtrack: Click here!

It's a chilly mid-September tuesday night in Seoul, South Korea. You’ve had one of the toughest days you've had since you moved here about seven months ago. You hate your job. You struggle with the language. Your “friends'' still call you “the new girl who doesn't talk much”. And the boyfriend you had for just over 3 months called just in time for you to open your chicken salad sandwich you packed for lunch and hadn't realized it probably went bad about 2 days ago, to promise it wasn't you but him. So, since midnight youd been venturing around town in hopes of clearing your mind to no avail, passing closed store after closed store until you spotted a cafe across the street just as dark clouds rolled over the city and started to sprinkle drops of rain.

The shop emitted a golden glow, the sweet scent of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon rolls, the earthy smell of flowers that had long since closed their buds on the patio, and a small white neon sign that reads “Open 24 Hours”. Inside the walls were painted half natural forest green and half italian cream, accented only by the oddly shaped and dimly lit lanterns hung from high ceilings. The floor is all original wood, magazines and comics lean in every direction in wire baskets nailed to the wall. In the back, a few drunk friends laugh at each other's jokes and share a bottle of Soju. In the corner a string of fairy lights illuminates 2 musicians. One of them sits at an electric piano. The other stands with a golden saxophone pouring from his puckered lips. Together they play a gentle jazz tune that sets and perfects a warm ambiance.

The bar has been intricately carved with designs you associate with 1920’s Gatsby. Rows of jars with rich chocolate colored coffee grounds line the counter and it's easy to see with a glance out the large front window that the steaming espresso machine has done a wonderful job of fogging the glass. But behind the bar is a man teetering on a stool with a book in one hand and a spoon that stirs idly in his mug in the other, the silver lightly tapping the ceramic. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and features thoughtful and pensive, so obviously enchanted by whatever world he had transported himself to to even realize anyone had entered. You didn't mind. It gave you a moment to stare without it being too awkward. Silver hair fell lazily over the crown of his head. Sharp eyes held soft onyx irises. His sleeves were rolled up on his white knitted sweater revealing a warm butterscotch tan on his arms. The rips in the knees of his black jeans showcased his toned thighs but casually complimented his modern black Oxfords. He looked clean and comfy in a way that made you want to crawl onto his lap and cuddle him. God knows you needed it after the day you’d had.

With careful steps, you approach the counter and climb onto one of the stools, pulling off your layers until you are left in your favorite sage green hoodie. “I admire your ability to get lost and enjoy it.” You say and peak over the bind of his book. You catch a glimpse of the gold name-tag attached to his sweater and read the name Namjoon in your head. In a rush he drops the book and scoots his mug to the side, steam and a fresh herbal smell lifting and wafting in your direction.

“And miss all this exciting stuff going on in here right now?” He motions to the relaxed atmosphere around the two of you and you smile.

“Are you a smartass to all of your clients?” You follow his teasing demeanor. Namjoon leans his elbows on the counter and you count to three to keep from staring at how the strands of hair fall from where they had been tucked behind his ear.

“Only when they look like they need to smile.” This time you dont stop yourself from staring, the dimples deepening in his almost childlike cheeks making you all but melt and giggle. Slipping off of his stool, Namjoon readys’ a mug under the machine and distorts his features into something out of a TV show and very awkwardly questions you.

“May I interest my lady in one of many forms of coffee this evening?” The voice and accent he's chosen is awkwardly broken british and makes your entire body cringe, but it's ridiculously endearing and impossible to say no to. You nod and perk up in your seat to get a good look at the process of coffee making as he begins to turn knobs and scoop ingredients into different cups and spoons. You don't bother telling him that the extra pump of hazelnut he put in smells too nutty, or that the roast is too dark, or that you've never had whipped cream on your coffee before, because the concoction he sets in front of you looks like a dream.

You're not sure how much time passes or how much of your life you've explained to him by the end of your third coffee together. What you know is that you never want to leave his presence. Forever, it seems, he expresses to you how much of a philosophy buff he is. Gets teary eyed talking about the many ways he's done his best to live his life through the wise words of men and women he admires. He teaches you words in Korean you'd never had the opportunity to use, as well as words he was starting to call you when the sky started to lighten up and the rain poured a little heavier.

“Yeppuda. Pretty.” He would say softly. “Aleumdaun. Like you.” He’d been shameless in his use of them. You had no idea what he was saying but you were enamored by how pretty they sounded coming from his mouth. If you scoot any closer to the edge of your stool, you were going to fall off, but the more you sat in front of him, the more that feeling of wanting to cuddle him itched at your insides. Especially when the blue haze of a new day was shading his face in different ways, casting new light here and there.

“What does that mean? Aleumdaun.” You repeated and he laughed at the way it came out a jumbled mess as though you’d swallowed a mouth full of water. He adjusted in his seat, and leaned close enough to you that, had you leaned forward just half an inch, your noses would have touched. Maybe even your lips. You give yourself a second to imagine how he might taste. Lips like cocoa. Tongue like whipped cream. White mocha and peppermint candy cane breath warming your cheeks.

“Beautiful...like you.” Just as the words slithered out between those perfect cocoa lips, the blush firing up your cheeks induced a dark, melted chuckle to rumble deeply in his chest just as the bell hanging above the entrance rang out, bursting the all consuming bubble of the rainy romantic ambiance you both had created for yourselves. Blinking rapidly, you clear your throat and suck your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing nervously as the woman enters awkwardly, tying her apron around her waist. The stool under Namjoon creaks softly as he greets her and wraps a scarf around his neck, shrugs his denim jacket over his shoulders and helps you into your coat.

The sun breaks between the clouds just long enough to cast a warm ray of light through the window, a sparkling mix of dust and brown sugar particles swirl in the air. Silver strands of hair catch the reflection and glow like moonlight and you suddenly absolutely cannot stand the thought of having to part ways with this enchanting man.

“Lets have breakfast.” Maybe it's too forward of you but the longer you stand here with Namjoon, the better you imagine the future of your life and you were not about to deny yourself the magical connection you shared with him. He almost looks surprised but his features soften and his dimples beg to swallow you whole as he takes your hand and answers with a voice made of honey. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[doyelikehaggis]

Works In Progress: Stefanie Salvatore Origin | Bamon + Stefanie (The Vampire Diaries)

Requested by anonymous

Time has never felt like it's moved slower, and that's really saying something considering all of it that Damon's had to endure as a vampire. But somehow humanity feels stiller right now than it ever has. Frozen.

It has all day, since he woke up to Bonnie rushing from the bed in their current hotel room and slamming the bathroom door behind her. He's quick to follow at the sound of her throwing up. Food poisoning, they assume.

"I told you something was off about that place," she complains hoarsely, head resting on her arm on the bowl.

Damon just smooths more of her hair from her face and gives his agreement, staying next to her. She had warned him, after all, and the food had definitely tasted wrong in many ways.

The sickness seems to pass shortly after. Having already made plans for the day, Bonnie insists that she's fine now. So, they try and go about the day as they planned, checking out places around the little town in a pocket of the Netherlands.

But they cut things short when Bonnie finally admits that the nausea is back and she's sure she's about two seconds away from collapsing. They head back to their hotel room instead.

Damon will admit to being worried. If it really is food poisoning, he should have all the same symptoms, he reasons, should he not? They ordered the exact same food, and he managed to get down more of it than she did. It doesn't make any sense.

At least, it doesn't until he comes out of the shower and finds Bonnie sitting cross-legged on the bed with a nervous, almost terrified look on her face. There's a thin, rectangular box next to her. Unopened.

It immediately clicks for him and he doesn't know how he didn't consider it before. Maybe deep down they both did.

"I called my mom," she tells him quietly, glancing up at him, but only for a second. "Just to check in, like I usually do. I, uh, I told her about the food poisoning, and she said..."

Her eyes dart to the box and she takes a sharp inhale. Damon moves slowly, approaching the bed with his heart pounding in his chest.

"Do you think...?" He swallows, but follows her suit in taking a deep breath. "Do you think you could be?"

Bonnie doesn't answer right away. The look in her eyes is enough, though. The morning sickness. Feeling light-headed and dizzy. The reason why the so-called food poisoning only seems to be affecting her.

It makes sense, he thinks, and his heart drops. She presses her lips together and he knows she's thinking it, too.

They've been doing this for months--travelling from one country to another without a real plan. Cade was defeated. Mystic Falls was safe. Damon was human and officially single. They were both still grieving over Enzo. It made sense for them to leave together to get a fresh start.

And things just happened after a couple of months, and maybe they weren't always so careful, but they were sure it was fine. Nothing has happened. Until now.

"I don't know."

Damon nods slowly. "Okay. Well... let's just see. Start with the test. If..." If it's postive, if you're pregnant. "Let's just start there."

Bonnie agrees. She disappears into the bathroom with the box. Damon forces himself to pull some clothes on. He then sinks down onto the bed and waits.

The waiting. Bonnie comes back out a moment later, the test in her hand. She comes and sits next to him, and places it on the bed.

"Takes a few minutes," she tells him, still not looking at him. Her eyes are on her hands instead.

"Bonnie," he says softly. When she doesn't respond with more than a little noise, he repeats it.

She turns her head, lifting her eyes to him. It hits him all at once. The storm of emotions flashing through her eyes. Fear, worry, the look of someone who's utterly lost.

He takes her hand, his gaze never wavering as his fingers curl around Bonnie's.

"I'm here. Okay? I know... we've never exactly talked about this kind of situation. But I promise you, no matter what the test says, I'm still gonna be right here."

She stares at him for a moment more, letting his words sink in. He offers a gentle smile, and she returns the pressure of his fingers.

"If it is..." He wets his lips, heart jumping into his throat. "If it is positive... how would you feel? Tell me what you're thinking."

She shakes her head, looking away from him again, as if she can't let herself think right now. But he waits, simply running his thumb over the back of her hand.

And eventually, in a barely audible voice, she says, "Honestly? I'm terrified."

He nods, but stays quiet.

"I've thought about kids, of course I have. Not recently, but I have. And I've never been able to stop asking myself, what if I'm bad at it? I love my mom, and my grams was amazing raising me. But still, with history... you never know."

"Genetics don't determine what you'll be like as a mother," Damon says, shaking his head. "And even if it did, you said it yourself: your grams was amazing. Emily and your mom both did what they could to protect their kids. To protect you."

"I know that," Bonnie says, staring straight ahead. "But neither of them were able to be there. Of course I don't blame my mom for protecting me, but I spent my entire childhood not knowing why she left. Questioning why."

She turns her head to look at him, her eyes big and round and so full of worry as her voice cracks.

"What if the same thing happened with me? What if--because of our lives, I have to leave? Or something bad happens to me? I don't want my child to go through that. It was an awful and horrible feeling."

"I know," Damon says quietly, giving her hand another light squeeze. He looks away, clearing his throat. "With the way my father was with me and Stefan... I never thought I'd have to worry about it after I turned, but now..."

"You're scared that you'll be like him," Bonnie says knowingly. "Just like I'm scared of history repeating and my child ending up without me. Or just completely alone."

Damon swallows again and takes in a deep breath, turning his gaze back to her.

"That wouldn't happen," he says, pushing down his own rising, swirling fears. "You would be an amazing mother. Kind, and supportive, and encouraging. I've seen you with Lizzie and Josie. Risking your life for them. You would find a way around any problem."

Bonnie's eyes are shining and he's sure she isn't even blinking. But she smiles, the barest twitch of her mouth.

"And you're not your father," she says.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek. He isn't as convinced on that part. Something must show on his face, because Bonnie gives his hand a light tug, making him look back up at her.

"You're not," she presses. "You think I haven't seen you with the twins as well? You've offered up your soul to protect them. You would never do anything to hurt your own child. You would be a good dad."

He's never put that much thought into it until now, but he wants to believe her. He just nods, returning her small smile.

Silence falls over them. That feeling of time moving slowly stretches out. He just stares at their suitcases left open in a mess across from them.

"Should we look?" Bonnie asks quietly, at last.

"I don't know," Damon says. "Probably."

He hesitates, and he can feel her doing the same. Then they both look down at the test.

Damon's stomach drops out of him. His heart pulses relentlessly against his ribs and in his throat, loud in his ears. It feels like he can hear Bonnie's, too. And the third heartbeat apparently growing inside of her.

"Okay," Bonnie says quietly, nodding slowly. Her hand is gripping his with a strength to rival a vampire's. "So, I'm pregnant."

Damon's mind is racing. Reality hits at last, finally feeling real and yet not at all in the slightest.

He turns to Bonnie. It's another blow to his chest and his heart when he realizes she's crying.

"Hey, hey."

He quickly pulls her in, wrapping his arms around her. She immediately collapses into him and buries her face in his shirt as he just holds her with a hand on the back of her head.

"It's okay," he says. "It's gonna be okay. The test might not be right. We can see a doctor, get it confirmed. And even if you are, whatever you want to do. I'll be right here no matter what you decide. It's gonna be okay."

They stay like that for a moment. Bonnie then shakes her head, and he feels her pull back slightly. She wipes at her eyes with her wrist.

"It's just the shock, I think," she says.

Damon's hand drops to her leg and he rubs her thigh soothingly, and also to have something to do.

Bonnie breathes out slowly. She glances back down at the test. That terrified, but thoughtful look returns to her face.

Another beat passes, then she nods. "Seeing a doctor is a good idea."

"Okay," Damon agrees. "Do you wanna find the closest one here?"

"Yeah," she breathes out. "The sooner we get an appointment, the better."

Damon nods and moves to get up for his phone, left on the other side of the room. But Bonnie catches his wrist and holds him in place.

"Wait," she quickly says, and he does, pausing. He sinks back down onto the bed as she takes a moment before continuing. "I... If I really am pregnant... I think I want to keep it."

Damon's pulse is loud in his ears once more, reverberating throughout his entire body. Bonnie's staring, searching wide-eyed for even the faintest reaction.

"Okay," he breathes out. He tightens his hold on her hand as surprise flashes through her eyes, and he moves his other hand to clasp hers between the two of them. "I told you that I will be here, no matter what. You wanna keep it, we keep it. I promise you that I am not going anywhere, I will be here for you every step of the way. We're in this together, right?"

Bonnie's eyes are wide and shining again. A couple tears fall when she blinks, but her face breaks into a smile, a short, gentle, breathless laugh. She nods quickly, hair bouncing around her shoulders.

"Yeah," she says, and for the first time, she's smiling so wide he thinks he can actually hear joy in her voice. She swallows, quickly pressing her lips into a line. "We're in this together."

Damon can't help but grin back at her. Something flutters in his chest, and then they're both laughing for no reason. Both crying, too, he realizes when Bonnie reaches a hand up and wipes a tear or two from his cheek.

The thought of all of it is still absolutely terrifying, somehow more so after making an appointment with the nearest doctor in a couple of days. But it's also exciting in a way that he never thought he'd experience. He can see it in Bonnie's expression as well when they're curled up in bed together, the sun setting outside.

She's trailing her fingers along her stomach, as if she can already see the possibility. And she's smiling still, a glint in her eyes. Damon can't do anything but watch her, content in doing so.

"What kind of name would you choose?" Bonnie asks him without looking up, her smile growing.

He hums in thought. "Daffodil."

Bonnie twists her neck to stare up at him, furrowed brow in disbelief. "What?"

Damon laughs, and she rolls her eyes. "I'm obviously kidding. How cruel do you think I am?"

"Well, I don't know, you were born in the nineteenth century to a man named Giuseppe and grew up around people like Honoria," Bonnie says with a scoff. "You probably have terrible taste in names."

"That is absolutely untrue, how dare you."

"Gimme one good example of a name you would choose."

Damon pauses. "There's... Jo-Johnathon. God, no, not Johnathon, I take that back."

Bonnie laughs, twisting a little onto her side, curling into him. "See? You can't think of one. And you can't suggest Giuseppe. Lily I might allow, but Katherine is off-limits."

Damon shudders. "God no. Agreed. Never Katherine."

[theangrypokemaniac]

I've been on Tumblr ten months now, and this blog has existed for nine of them. During that time I have noticed something.

The majority of the posts I've come across have been by and for the S&M scene, as is to be expected.

The second-most frequent are Indigo League, which I don't think is bad going considering it was broadcast before most Tumblerries were born.

Third-most popular I would say is Sinnoh, probably for being the introduction for many here.

After that I've seen bits on Johto, a smattering of Orange League (unsurprising given it's briefness) and maybe a single item on Hoenn.

No one likes that then? Is it Max? Go on, it is.

What I find odd is that, in all that period, I haven't seen anything on Unova or Kalos. No fan art, no screen shots, nothing.

I'm sure someone can point to a bounty of pieces I've overlooked, all done within the last year, but if so, they're well-hidden, as none of the people I follow have shown any interest in re-blogging them.

If you have done any, you must admit the amount has depleted considerably.

Why is this? Is it of no interest anymore?

This in itself validates my own opinion. Had I been here when Unova and Kalos were broadcast, I presume over half of the posts I'd see would've been devoted to them. If I then spoke harshly of either, that would not have been well-received.

However, if dropped, both by the audience and writers as soon as the latest generation arrives, wasn't I right to not be impressed?

If cast aside by those who claimed to worship them, were they really of any worth at all?

Well the same fate has now befallen Alola. I make no secret of how much I despise it, and can not grasp its appeal for anyone.

I don't know how Pokémon even has a fanbase anymore, given that it's ugly, boring and repetitive.

Prior to the arrival of the S.S., I suspected that Alola material would drop, vanishing altogether once a year's worth came to a close, and so it has proved to be.

It's gone from making up roughly 60% - 70% of dashboard posts to about 10% - 20%, in only a few months. Is it that bad then?

It can't be explained as excitement for the new, not with the amount of coverage Kanto gets, and even that isn't motivated by reminiscence, given the average age of the current viewer.

Why are you still posting about something that old? It reminds me of my wasted youth, but what's your excuse?

Why, when the writers want to wallow in nostalgia, do they hark back to Kanto, which no modern fan can remember?

Is no one looking with misty-eyed fondness at Iris and Cilan? Why not?

Or is that an admission that it was so appallingly bad even the writers recognised it, that's why it's been so hastily forgotten?

You could watch Pokémon from the beginning to the close Sinnoh, skip the next two eras, starting again with Alola, and you would never know there'd been a between.

Unova is described as a 'soft reset', with regards to its inverted nature. The arrogance of those writers is staggering:

• Trying to erase all that'd gone before, supplanted by their half-arsed efforts.

• Redesigning everyone with Fish Eye and flat profiles.

• Resetting Ash as not even knowing the basics.

• Warping Team Rocket's established personalities into disgusting, soulless lizard people robbed of all charm and charisma.

• Only new Pokémon existing.

• Catches kept with Juniper not Professor Oak etc.

The irony is that Unova Pokémon are copies of the first 151, so whilst deliberately ignoring the past, they can't resist imitating it, thanks to their own woeful inadequacy. I suppose they hoped if they didn't notice, we wouldn't either.

They then undermined their own decision by stuffing everything available into the third run, as a blatant effort to win back the crowd, including:

• Reverting to Team Rocket's actual motto, not that embarrassingly pretentious codswallop.

Too bloody lazy to make it rhyme now!

Notice they opted not for the Sinnoh one, although more recent. It was straight back to the beginning.

• Look at these hundreds of Pokémon we suddenly remembered!

Just before Giovanni's mid-life crisis, Ash spotted a Rattata, but it having been so isolated from the outside world, his brain fell to mush at the concept, and pronounced it 'retarda'.

Idiots are so easy to please!

• Charizard! Genwunners love Charizard! Give 'em Charizard and they'll forget everything else we've done! Let's condense his entire story arc into one episode of meaningless retelling!

So, Charizard was there to bait the first wave, and yet we had the plot we know repeated to us anyway?

Don't refer to the past and everyone will think it's brand-new!

It makes no sense. How could this be done with the hope of drawing in old fans, and yet filling up an episode with it as plotline isn't an issue, when the intended targets know it's been done before?

• Butterfree! Genwunners loved Butterfree leaving! Let's condense his entire story arc into one episode of meaningless rehash!

Why would they remain when finding the same thing again, absent of feeling and subtlety, not to mention upon discovering the damage done elsewhere?

Recent incomers, who might assume it's a fresh idea, have no emotional connection with Butterfree, so who is it meant to please?

Why is Mewtwo a woman?

• Mewtwo! Genwunners love Mewtwo! Let's copy its background for Genesect rather than be creative! Look, it's Mewtwo! Watch it!!!

Erm... It's not the same Mewtwo...

It's not the same Mewtwo?

You believe the way to an original fan's heart is to lie to them, and in the process smash a fundamental principle of canon that there can only be one Mewtwo?

The writers get a deserved excoriation round these parts, because someone has to, as what part of that film suggested the current crop give the tiniest toss about what matters to you and me?

I'm glad Unova is labelled 'the Dork Age' as every series since its dawn has been atrocious.

Hoenn and Sinnoh held massive flaws, but they're masterpieces compared to what followed. At least they felt like Pokémon, albeit a watery interpretation.

Unova has to be truly lowly for the dunces responsible to recognise it, and neither Kalos or Alola have been as cut off from their predecessors.

I don't believe that's a sign of contrition, more a matter of necessity. Thanks to the same personal limitations there just weren't enough new Pokémon in either era to make such insularity possible. Even between the two it'd be a scrape.

Except whilst previously invented Pokémon designs may be involved, there's no sign of actual familiar characters.

Ash took his original team to Johto, and even in Hoenn and Sinnoh, where local catches took precedent, older Pokémon were still referenced and came back for the League, but that stopped with Unova.

It's evil influence strikes again!

Despite flimsy nods to the past, which can't be avoided, each generation is now a world unto itself, to the point that individual episodes live by their own canon, a feeble web of strands unrelated to anything else.

Why is it considered 'retro' enough to say, have Forms of Kanto Pokémon, for which we're expected to be so grateful, when there's no mention of Ash's earlier squad?

Remember Tauros? And Kingler? And Muk?

Remember Bayleef? And Noctowl? And Heracross?

Remember Corphish? And Torkoal? And Swellow?

Remember Buizel? And Gible? And Torterra?

They don't. As far as I can tell none of them exist anymore, and maybe aren't meant to ever have done.

Same as Gary, Cassidy and Butch, Jessibelle, Tracey, and so on. Until they do, and don't again. Whatever is convenient to today's storyline.

My typical attitude is that the first series is the best thing ever, and it's all been downhill from there, with Unova and all that came after reaching incredible depths of tedium. I don't suppose you like that, but the ephemeral tendencies displayed on Tumblr hardly help change my opinion.

At some low ebb I'll get round to watching Galar, which I'm confident I'll hate as much as the last few generations, based on what I've already seen and heard.

There's little point doing otherwise. Why bother getting involved with the 'plot' or characters if, when it's over, they'll never be spoken of again?

What incentive is there for me to even force myself to like Galar when, once the ninth generation (Pokémon Keenan and Kel) emerges on the distant horizon, those who've sung its praises for three or four years and scoffed at criticism, will drop it without a backwards glance?

Yet talk about the Indigo League is ever present, somewhat proving its superiority. Attachment to it is a subconscious acknowledgement of the dearth of quality in the modern mentality, but which no one can bring themselves to admit.

[zombiiesque]

Nocturne Alchemy Halloween 2019 - Part One

Originally published 10/8/2019

Hey y'all, and happy Halloween month! October is, bar none, my favorite time of the year, even though it's a little ridiculously hot here in Florida. It took me forever to decide what I wanted, but I finally picked up some treats from Nocturne Alchemy's Halloween 2019 release, and I want to share my thoughts on those, and maybe cover briefly what I have that appears in the Resurgence section, as well. So let's dive right in, shall we?

What did I wind up choosing? A pretty good selection, having tested everything, I don't think there's a single one that isn't going to work! I picked out Pirate's Rum for Jody, but I haven't tested it on him yet, so we'll skip that for now. The rest of what I got was Blood, Blood Queen, Blackout, Vampire Bourbon Patchouli Bat, and The Mummy Returns - as it turns out, I have an aged bottle of that, so I'm probably going to swap my new bottle. They sent me Mummy's Spirit as a prize from a contest I won on the business page on Facebook, and the free sample was the brand new PC scent, Halloween 2020. That's a pretty exciting set!

Blood – Kashmir (Studio Limited), Pipe Tobacco accord, Caramel Oudh (NA Studio), Black Patchouli leaves, Palo Santo essential oil, Italian Bergamot, Italian Pine resin, Frankincense Resin, Myrrh wood and Bastet’s Musk. Oh, this is intense. It's almost a little scary, and these are notes that are right in my wheelhouse. That was my first thought when I put this on my skin - but then it warms and melds, and ooooof - it's captivating. Apply this lightly - a little goes a very long way. Right away, I get the palo santo, and then it sort of melts into this caramel oudh and tobacco. I love NA's tobacco, and I don't have much of it, so I really, really wanted this one. I'm getting almost a leather feel at first, but that stage doesn't last very long. If I sniff really hard, I can pick out the pine, Kashmir (a deep red musk), patchouli, and resins while it's still wet. Once it starts drying though, as I mentioned before, it really all melds together. It's got a slightly unisex feel, and I really want to try this one on my fiance, I think it would be amazing on a man. But he is going to have to share it, if he likes it - I love this entirely too much to give it up. Oh my gosh, it's so dark and sexy, I can't stop huffing my wrists. This is an inky fall night, the moon up high and bright in the sky. There's a chill in the air, but a huff of smoke from someone's pipe - and there's a bonfire in the distance. You're wrapped up nice and warm though. And holy bats do you smell amazing. It lasts quite a while, too. I got a solid 10+ hours out of it. I kept catching whiffs of it that had me trying to figure out what it was before I remembered what I was wearing. Yeah, love this one.

Blackout – NA Chypre accord (labdanum, oakmoss, lavender, patchouli and neroli), Jasmine Absolute, NA Oudh, Bastet Amber Absolute, Mandarin, Clove and Amber accord. Blackout is a stunner of a chypre. This is darkly gothic, and it feels almost....dangerous. Hah! I love it. Chypres are an interesting group for me, most of the time I love them, but sometimes there's a floral that can turn up a little weird on my skin? That's definitely not happening here. If you took a look at the notes and were worried about the jasmine, mandarin, or clove - I spent a full two days with Blackout, and I'm just not able to truly pick them out. When I first put it on, while wet, there's a slight hint of a spicy floral, but it just melts into something deeper and darker so quickly, I can't get a handle on what the florals would be. This is just so smooth and sophisticated. If Blackout was a True Blood character, it would be Eric. Hah! I'm not sure if I could pick out my favorite between this, Blood, and Blood Queen, as I love them all - they're wildly different - but I think if I were pressured, it would be Blackout. The oakmoss is perfection here, I find it to be the most noticeable note in the chypre accord. Since that's a particular favorite of mine from NA, I'm happy to see it star here. This is so starkly beautiful. There's almost a coldness here, but it's drawing me in - it's very appealing. I think that Blood and Blood Queen are very warm scents, but Blackout is just .... chilly.

Blood Queen – Wild Black Currant, Cemetery Musk, Santalum White (Studio Limited), Kashmir (Studio Limited), Black Musk, Blood Wine accord, Black Violet and Lilac essence. Blood Queen is just so purple and wild! I had a hard time choosing what I was going to order to go along with Blackout and Vampire Bourbon Patchouli Bat. I finally settled on Blood, but I kinda was looking hard at Skeletonic, as I adore woody scents - I might have to go back for it, but the notes for Blood Queen just kept pulling me in. This is definitely a me scent, and so I plopped it in my cart and didn't look back. I think I expected the Kashmir, which is a deep, sexy, rich red musk, to kind of be the star here. And it's here, don't get me wrong. Kashmir and Black Musk are not musks that will ever be described as shy, but though I get both of them, they're playing so well with the other notes - like a dance. It's mesmerizing. On my skin, the wine and Cemetery Musk play supporting roles. There's a sweetness and fullness that they add to Blood Queen. Primarily, though, this perfume is a fruity floral musk - and a stunner. This is a come hither, slinky, sultry, masterpiece. Not shy, even a little bit. The blackcurrant is juicy and sweet - it's a good counter for the dark florals of violet and lilac. I usually avoid florals, but I really like how they play darkly with the musks and fruit. If Blackout is Eric, I'm calling Blood Queen Pam. *wink* It lasts forever on my skin, too. A solid 8 to 10 hours!

Mummy’s Spirit – Green Matcha Tea, Violet, Egyptian Blue Chamomile Essential Oil, Egyptian Papyrus essential oil, Egyptian Musk and Egyptian Red Musk and NA Limestone Amber. This was the bottle that I won in a contest NA had on their business page, and they picked out for me. I actually was kind of drooling over the description of it already, because I do love that papyrus note, and their green teas. Naturally, I love this one. It's bright and fresh and crisp, and the green tea is gorgeous here. It's been so, so hot here in Florida - we're missing fall by a long shot. This is a great transitional scent - I can definitely see wearing it as it gets colder, but I wore it a few days in a row when it was over 90 degrees and it was lovely then, also. This is a lighter scent - it needed a couple of applications throughout the day, but I suspect the more it ages, it will get a little more longevity, because I've noticed that's a pattern with scents that start out lighter from NA. Just worth mentioning it as something to be aware of, in terms of a review. For me, I don't mind reapplying - I usually take scent with me wherever I go. But I'll be looking forward to see how this one is going to play out with age, as I already love it. It's quite different from the others that I chose myself, but it's definitely something I'll be reaching for often. I don't get a lot of the violet, so it must be a background note. The chamomile lends a light herbal tone, adding to the overall "green" feel of Mummy's Spirit. I don't get a lot of the violet, but I think on my skin it adds a softly sweet contrast against the green, herbal feel of the tea and chamomile.

Vampire Bourbon Patchouli Bat – Golden and Black Patchouli essential oils slow-drip blended into our Bourbon Vanille Absolute, Sugared Vanilla pods with hints of Oak and Hinoki wood. This one was my first choice - I knew absolutely I was going to get it. And it was an instant win, right out of the mailbox. This is warm and cozy, but at the same time, dead sexy and darkly slinky. The slightly boozy vanilla against the patchouli is perfectly balanced - and I am totally getting the oak and hinoki wood, so that's really awesome, I was hoping I'd be able to smell that in the mix! I feel like the woods really help keep that balance here, because the Bourbon Vanille is quite a rich note, along with the sugared vanilla. The long drydown on this is an almost spicy, plush, slightly narcotic vanilla, balanced with a dark, resinous, herbal patchouli. This isn't your hippie grandma's patchouli scent, by a long shot. This is elegant and polished. It would be a great date night scent - but at the same time, it's cozy and inviting, and I'd wear this to go stomping in the fall leaves in a sweater and jean jacket. I'd also wear it to dinner with my guy. If you were even thinking about Vampire Bourbon Patchouli Bat, do yourself a favor - go pick it up. Yesterday. Word in the fan run Facebook group, the House of NA Tent, is super positive - I think it's the fan favorite of NAlloween 2019.

You know what? I've been thinking about it. I think Blood would be Alcide. *wink*

Edit: At the risk of repeating myself, I'm going to throw a blanket statement out for all of these - I cannot wait to see what they're going to be like with some aging. I accidentally bought a bottle of The Mummy Returns, and I already had one from last year. The fresh bottle is truly a gorgeous scent, but that aged bottle? Wow. So just bear that in mind, my impressions are from bottles I've only had about a week. It's going to be fun to revisit them next Halloween!

Okay, that's going to wrap it up for today. I'm going to go ahead and do a second half, and cover Halloween 2020 (YESSSS) and the Resurgence that I have, including my beautifully aged bottle of The Mummy Returns. The Resurgence reviews are posted here, if you would like to take a look! Thanks for joining me, y'all!