#its nearly 11am

[sollucets]

the world!! is not designed!!! for people who work!!! at any even Slightly non-regular hours!!!!

[goldendirk]

I think it is so telling when native English speakers are the ones writing the Netiquette guides tbh. Like, I just saw a post (I'm too lazy to go fetch it) saying that you shouldn't typo in the chat someone if they witch on and in bc "it is just autocorrect stuff, happens to everyone" and like... No. It isn't. Neither of these two words are clear on the spacial relationship between objects that they mean to express; I was thought that "in" is inside, but the expression "in bed" exists. Is "on the microwave" referring to the specific opening were you put the food or would I use it to refer to the actual machinery? Like. Not everyone speaks Perfect English -_-

Yeah don't mock people or whatever but if feels weird to say that "haha everyone knows what these words mean, they couldn't have possibly used the wrong one bc that is how they know to speak"... :/

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

guy who just woke up. huh

[bxrnthyfears]

HELP JOLLY'S 😂😂😂

Omg I love the fake Snapchats agdffhhvjgjsh if you ever wanna do more of them I'm sooooo here for it haha

i’ll never stop making these now

[cowpokeomens]

helloooo ~

could you please do a casual outing date with noah sebastian? anything from a simple lunch to some shopping just super fluffy and cute thank uuuu

Ask and ye shall receive! This is loosely based off of an experience I had a few weeks ago (The entranced window-gazing, not the almost-sugar daddy part, RIP me ig) Enjoy!

You had a long week. It seemed like your higher-ups gotten more demanding with each passing day. As if going to a shitty job wasn’t hard enough on its own, Noah was home from tour, too. You could drag yourself to work with the promise of a venti triple shot drink from Starbucks most days, but with his sleeping form next you in bed- warm, tattooed skin on display- the feat of getting up became nearly impossible. When the weekend finally rolled around, you embraced it with open arms, sleeping in until 11AM on Saturday. 

You awoke to the smell of coffee, stretching your arms and padding your way into the kitchen. You found Noah there, sweatpants slung low on his hips, swiping on his phone while music played softly from the TV in the living room. He glanced up upon your arrival. 

“Well good morning, gorgeous. I was starting to wonder where I was going to hide your body.” He flashed you a lopsided grin.

You returned the smile, going over to where the coffee pot was still set to warm. ��You couldn’t get rid of me that easily, Sebastian. I’d haunt your ass.”

“Oh no! I hope the scary, sexy ghost doesn’t watch me in the shower!” Noah mock-cried, waving his hands in the air for effect. You giggled at his antics, adding creamer to your coffee as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “What’re we doing today, buttercup?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, I need a new pair of shoes for work, supportive sole type shit-”

“Nope.” You were cut off by the man behind you. “No boring work shit today. We’re having fun.” 

“Fun?” You echoed, turning just enough to waggle your eyebrows at him. 

He rolled his eyes, snorting at you. “Not that kind of fun, you freak. Good, wholesome, Christian fun.”

“Ooh, are we gonna make out on the bus on the way to church camp?” You mocked him.

“I cannot stand you. Have I said that before? Because I can’t.” His actions betrayed his words as he leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, then the top of your head, then your shoulder again. 

“Then what is your definition of ‘good, wholesome, Christian fun,’ Sebastian?” You turned to face him fully, sipping from your mug. 

“I was thinking retail therapy. We could go to that shopping center you like so much, with the paper store that has all the tape and stuff.” He puffed his chest proudly for remembering it.

“The stationary store.” You pondered aloud. “I could get stickers.”

He nodded eagerly. “I’ll buy you so many fucking stickers, baby.”

You grinned up at him. “I’m sold. Let me brush my teeth and find udnerwear-”

“-Hey, no pressure from me-”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him. “-And then we can head out.”

_________________________________________

A few hours later you found yourself in a shopping center somewhere in the northern section of your city. It was more of an outdoor mall, but you really only preferred a small corner of the sprawl. 

Noah walked beside you cheerfully, hand tightly clasped in yours. His other hand held a cute, pastel blue bag from the stationary store, where you had racked up quite the tab. Before you could get your card out, though, Noah was tapping his own against the machine. 

“You didn’t have to do that, babe.” You pouted, feeling guilty. 

He shrugged. “I’ve got that ‘Rockstar Boyfriend’ money now, baby, I can buy you stickers.”

You snorted at him. “Glad to hear that Jolly has been filing you guys’ taxes correctly.”

“Hey, I help, too.” He protested. 

“Mhm, no one can work the espresso machine for him quite like you, dear.” You mollified him. 

“I can’t believe I’m being treated this way, I have an ‘Alternative Press’ cover, y’know-”

He got quiet when he noticed you had stopped walking. He glanced at you, concerned, then followed your line of sight. 

You were gazing, open-mouthed, into the window of a purse store. You didn’t actually know anything about luxury brands- much less designer handbags- but you could recognize art when you saw it. 

It was black, probably genuine leather. A cross-body bag, pleasantly spacious without being large. Its silver rivets glinted at you in the midday sun, enticing you with their gleam. A thick, silver chain decorated the top, contrasting sharply with the clean cut of the long black handle. 

“What?” He asked at last. 

“Sorry.” You responded absently, still not looking away. 

He huffed a laugh. “Do you want to go inside?” 

“No.” Came your immediate response. 

“Babe, I know that look. That’s how you looked at me the first day I got back from tour. Now, I’m not so insecure as a man to let a purse threaten me, but if you start talking dirty to it-”

“Shut up, Noah.” You finally broke your stare to turn to him, giggling. “It’s just pretty is all.”

“‘Pretty?’” He repeated.

You nodded earnestly, already beginning to walk away. 

“Well hey, if it’s so ‘pretty,’ let’s go inside and get a closer look.” He tugged on your joined hands.

You grimaced, lowering your voice. “Baby, it’s probably like, a gajillion dollars-”

“Oh, I hope so. I just so happen to have a ‘Gajillion’ Monopoly dollar in my pocket. C’mon.” He tugged you once more, finally convincing you to follow.

The inside of the store was freakishly white. White walls, white display podiums, white chairs. Who the fuck comes in here to sit? You wondered to yourself. There, in the field of white, was your black sheep in all its glory. Noah released your hand as you glided over to it, sighing dreamily. You didn’t see anything saying you had to keep your hands to yourself, and you couldn’t resist the urge to touch it. A hand came up to run a single finger along the rivets, bumping up and down at their protrusion. You gripped the side experimentally, loving the squish of the leather. You had never been a bag person; You used the same backpack for the entirety of college, purchased for $20 at Walmart. You had other bags, mostly to carry things from point A to point B, but this was different. This was- what did the fashion bloggers call their clothes? A piece. This was a piece, not just a purse. 

You were shaken out of your reverie by Noah walking over to you, peering at the bag curiously. “You ready?”

You let out a deep breath. It was absolutely a gajillion dollars, and you could not justify the expense. You turned to Noah, about to say an affirmative, when a new, large shopping bag caught your eye. 

You recognized the brand emblazoned across the bag as the same one from the window. Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Noah, what did you do?”

His grin was devilish. “Relax. It was actually only half a gajillion dollars, quite the steal if you ask me.”

You could feel yourself panicking. “What? No! Go give it back!” Your whisper was frantic. 

He was outwardly laughing at you now. “No.”

Your eyes widened further, incredulity coloring your tone. “No?”

He shook his head, leaning in close to you. “Nope.” Then, taking your hand in his, he happily walked back outside, ignoring the saleswoman’s call of “Come back again soon!”

You barely kept up with his long legs. “Noah, I do not need a gajillion dollar-”

“Half a gajillion, babe. Half.”

You huffed. “Whatever. I don’t need an expensive purse, it’s not fair for you to be spending that kind of money on me when I can’t repay it-”

“I can think of a few ways you could repay me.” He cut you off again with a wink. 

“Noah.” You stopped walking. He could hear the change in your tone, stopping to turn to look at you. “I can’t- baby I really appreciate it but I can’t-”

“Hey.” He said softly, coming up to look into your eyes deeply. “Hey. This isn’t about owing me or anything. There’s no need for that between us.” You nodded, the movement small. “I see you busting your ass. I see you working hard. I can see that you’ve had a shitty couple of weeks. So if I have to go back and buy you all the gajillion dollar purses in that store, I will do it. If it will make you happy, I will personally see to it that you get every gajillion dollar purse manufactured on this continent.”

You couldn’t fight off the smile at his words, so sincere and sweet. He kissed your forehead for good measure, offering his hand out to you. 

“If it makes you feel better, you can buy lunch. The lady in the store talked me into getting the matching quarter-gajillion dollar wallet, too.”

Your jaw dropped. “Noah Sebastian-”

[thecrownestt]

The rule of the game was meant to be fun. It was meant to be playful.

"Let's try something new, I would loveee to see how driven you can be with the right motivation. I want to set a lofty goal for you. No touching, no squeezes, no massages, no self-touching, no love-making until you find a way to eat...hmm...how about 10,000 calories in one day? Most would say no, but most don't melt to my touch the way you do. Be the BEST piggy for one day, and you get the BEST I can offer you."

It wasn't supposed to be too difficult. We had talked about trying for that symbolic caloric goal. It's already mostly in reach on the days where he's attentive and the meals come very steadily. Sure. A little denial of orgasm, a little submissive pig caught under the thumb of a coercive feeder. Play along.

It has been four days now.

He's lying to me. He must be.

The first day was planned meticulously. He was not going to help, per a secondary rule. All the meals and snacks had to come from within a personal fountain of desire and determination. Prove that his pig is, in fact, a pig when left to its own piggy devices.

So I ate.

Start with a hard, concerted bang. A few breakfast sandwiches, a smoothie, a danish. Count the calories...ok, a big dent made in the goal before 11am. Plenty of time to snack while selecting a lunch order. Rinse and repeat for another 2-3 meals.

He looked at my tally. Look! There was even room to spare. 10,700 calories...it was 11:30pm. The day was not over. The goal is achieved. Now, please. Please please please. Touch me. Praise me. Embrace me. The pig was a pig.

"Not quite, dear. Look at this math...so sloppy. I know you've gotten a bit soft in the gut, but I didn't realize your mind had gone so mushy. Do you even know how to add? You'll have to try again tomorrow. Do you even understand me?"

That's. No. Wait. It can't be. Doesn't he want me? Didn't I do a good job? His disappointed look means something. He's good with this stuff. Maybe he's right...

So I tried again the next day. This time, he suggested he'd handle the adding. Checking bad math would make him bothered. Pigs don't think. They eat. That's what he said. I believed him.

He must be lying. There's no way the goal hasn't hit. So many walls have been hit that had to be pushed through. Hunger is merely a theory anymore. If breathing is easy, it's time to eat. Prove him that his pig is a GOOD pig. Please. So sore. So...mindless. The bed has been home. He's caring enough to bring what is needed. Why can't the goal be hit? What's wrong with pig...his words hurt. He said they didn't hurt nearly as bad as being accused of being a liar.

It's day five tomorrow. Today was a failure. Only 8800 calories! How. The count keeps getting further away. Maybe there's too much thinking going on. Maybe a pig needs to TRULY embrace being a pig. Eat with emotion. Eat with anger. Eat for him. He was taken for granted. He provides so much release. He's holding onto that power.

"Piggy doesn't get what piggy needs until there's nothing left in that dull mind but reaching the goal...only then can I give you everything."

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Meghan emphasised her love for the relaxed family-friendly atmosphere at polo. This from the woman who never brings her kids to matches (except for the one time she nearly dropped the baby on its head) by u/RoohsMama

Meghan “emphasised her love for the relaxed, family-friendly atmosphere” at polo. This from the woman who never brings her kids to matches (except for the one time she nearly dropped the baby on its head) https://ift.tt/QcAg7pL post link: https://ift.tt/XUFMCIr author: RoohsMama submitted: December 11, 2024 at 11:11AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

Vast/Eye avatar then!! ahdhja i’ve thought too much about what i’d be avatar of hehe (spiral/dark if you’re wondering :])

Also real!! I love watching not tma stuff and categorising the things into the Entities!!

:0 omg avatar of the vast🫵 (/silly btw ahdhskd)

USJFIDIFIDIZIFO

oh nooo youve caught... /j

okay but actually im more aligned with the Eye and i can go on and on and on about thus....

the Vast does call to me tho sometimes. THINGS ARE SO BIG AND I WANT TO CRY ABOUT IT

audbjJsjfhjd i think about the Entities way too much. categorising things innterms of them is so fun ‼️

[tparker48]

Request for anonymous

The morning was young as Kev got up from his bed, making his way to the kitchen where he set his coffee pot on the counter. Pouring the crimson beans into the opening, its rich smell danced around his nostrils, his lips yearning for its warm touch. But he had to wait for it to brew. "Wonder what's in the paper nowadays." He asked, heading to the front door as he opened it to the driveway. Taking a step, something red came from the corner of his eyes, swatting his face as its ting rang through the bridge of his nose.

"Gotcha old man!" a voice said. 

That voice, he recognized that douchey tone anywhere. Rubbing his eyes, he looked ahead to see his daughter's girlfriend, his blood boiling at the sight of his smug face. "Jake. What are you doing here?" He growled.

"Nothing, just came to my hunny bunny. Thought I'd start the day early and see ya. By the way, the newspaper came for ya." He tossed the red paper into Kev's chest.

 rage sparked in his mind, his fist raising to the air as it shook. "Why you little-"

"No Dad!" A white blur flew by him, his daughter filling the space between them. "How many times have I told you, do not hurt him!"

Kev huffed as he held his fist, determined to let Jake have it. "Nala, you know as much as I do your.. boyfriend, is a bad influence for you."

"He's just having a little fun dad, he didn't mean to anger you. Right Jake?"

"Meh, sure."

Kev grumbled upon the response, his eyes furrowing as they pierced into Jake’s. But Nala’s gazed replaced them as she leaned toward him.

"Be nice." She said, taking her boyfriend's hand as she moved past Kev. 

He sighed to himself before following them. Let's just get this morning over with. He made his way down the hallway, watching the time clocks tick by as the hour struck 11AM. As if the day couldn’t get any slower. But the smell of coffee filled the air, his nose darting toward the kitchen as he licked his lips. Finally, something he can get excited for. He followed its scent around the corner, his mind spiraling tas he imagined himself holding his coffee mug. Turning the corner, he halted as Nala rested upon the table, and her boyfriend, prancing around the kitchen like he owned the place.

"There you are, dad." Nala greeted him.

"What took you so long? You nearly missed the start of breakfast." Jack chimed in. "Oh, thanks for making us coffee by the way, really refreshing."

Coffee? He looked at the counter, the once steaming pot now empty as it sat in the kitchen sink. His fist choked at the newspaper, his eyes centered at the pot. They drank his coffee! His coffee!

"Dad? Is everything alright?" Nala asked.

Kev flexed his arm as it shook in place, but took a breath as he relaxed himself. "Yes..I'm fine. I'm heading upstairs." He said, taking his leave as he moved back to the hallway. 

"Thanks again for the coffee." Jack smirked. "Though I'd say next time lay off the cream a bit."

Kev clenched his newspaper, holding his tongue as he stormed out to the hallway. That cocky bastard, if it wasn't for nala he'd have a fresh boot for his ass. But for now, he'll settle for an alternative. He entered his room before closing the door, pulling out the drawer as he grabbed a small lego man from a pair of underwear.

"There you are, I've got too much stress built up.." He forced his pants down before pulling out his cock, pinching the sides as the slit gaped open. Holding the lego man over it, he stuffed it inside, ushering it in as the slit closed. He huffed at the bulge it made, the walls to his urethra expanding as it stopped at the middle of the shafts underbelly. Closing his eyes, he gripped around its entirety, and began to stroke.

"Fuck that brat!" He gritted beneath his breath. "Who does he think he's dealing with? I swear if he were the size of this lego I'll..I'll.." He choked on his words, his fiery strokes pumping faster as he locked in place. Spurts came from the fleshlight, white fluid spilling from the lips as the lego slid out from the urethra and onto a small puddle along the floor. "Fuck I lost my train of thought.." He sighed.

A knock came from the door, Kev's blissful state washing off before he could even blink. So much for better. He answered the door as he pulled it halfway, his sour face frowning more as Jake stood on the other side.

"What do you want?"

"Aayy easy old man, I just wanted to hand ya something. A little gift for no hard feelings."

This is a first. "Go on." Kev said.

"I mean it, sincerely. I brought a gift for you downstairs, it should be in the garage.

"Why the garage?"

" It wouldn't be a surprise if I just bought it in, would it?" He replied. He stepped to the side and ushered Kev to follow.

He didn’t trust him, he's too lenient to not try to pull something. Kev glared at Jake cautiously before following him into the hallway, leaving the door open before he followed Jake down the stairs. Moving through the hallway, moved into the garage, Jack holding the door as he stepped inside.

"Alright, we're here. Now where's this gift?"

"Oh it's right over-" 

The door slammed as Kev turned to the door, a click sounding on the other end before stomps trailed away. "Jake! You little brat! Open this door!" He shouted, his voice echoing off the acoustic in the garage. He pushed at the door banging on it before he moved to the garage door. Pushing the button, he moved under it as he made his way to the backyard. 

To think he'd fall for one of his theatrics, he'll teach him a thing or two. Nala be damned. He opened the door and stormed into the hall. Noticing nale in her room with headphones as he raced toward the steps. Getting to his room he noticed the door half closed as he slowed down, peeking inside as Jake crouched against one of his drawers, his childish laugh lingering through the air.

He bursted open the door, Jake freezing in his tracks as he turned toward Kev, a shrinking serum in his hand. Kev's face turned red, slamming the door as he approached him. "That's it.."

"N-now now, Kev, let's not be so hasty!"

"You think you can come into my house, drink my stuff, and lock me in my own garage?" He clutched his tank top, suspending him in the air as he glared into his face. His hands shook as they reached toward his head, urging to punch the lights out of him. But a glare caught in his eyes, the bottle in Jake's hand as red fluid splashed inside. 

"Give me that!" He demanded, snatching the bottle from his grasp. "So you planned on shrinking me down is that it?!" He glared at Jake, the coward holding his arms to shield himself from any hits. "Then let me give you a taste of your own medicine."

"Wait are you-?"

He popped the cap from the vial, tilting it over him as its fluid dozed him in its substance. He tried to squirm from Kev's grasp, but he wasn't letting go. He's not getting away with one, not this time. Slowly,  he noticed his clothes getting saggier as Jake shrunk passed the collar of his shirt, his pants falling to the floors as the clothing became an empty husk.

Wiggling resonated at the bottom of the shirt, Kev lifting it as Jake clinged to the wooled cloth for dear life. "Look what you did to me!" Jake shouted.

"Consider it payback for the headaches you caused." He said. He clutched around Jake's body, hearing him squeak like a cat toy as he was hovered to his face. 

"Yeah well, if you think I didn't plan for this! You've got another thing coming! I'll grow back in a day!"

Kev sterned as he glared at Jake. The brat still hasn't learned his lesson yet. He wanted to squeeze at his body until he passed out, but he looked as movement began to stir. A poking sensation extending from his pants as he looked at the lego on the floor. "Then that gives plenty of time to teach you another lesson. So you like locking people in a tight place?..." He asked, unzipping his pants, drawing out his barreled cock from inside. "Let's see how you like it when you're in my cock."

He pinched his head, cum caught between its lips seeping into his fingers before he smeared them into his skin. Jake kicked his legs in an attempt to loosen his grip, but a slight adjustment of his fingers pinned them together, pencling them into his slit as his feet sunk into his flesh.

"H-hey! Stop that!"

"Shut up!" Kev huffed, clasping his fist atop his upper half. He used his thumb as he pushed him closer, the faint swelling in his cock becoming more present as the flailing legs kicked inside. It was peculiar to sat the least, but somehow..thrilling. He closed his eyes and imagined the lego, its bulging outline massaging the muscle as he humped in place.

"That’s it, get in there." He huffed, pushing his cock more as the swelling grew larger. The cockhead suddenly cushioned beneath his presses, opening his eyes as he removed his palm. Jake was almost in, his head and arms bobbing across the surface.

"Are you crazy?! When Nala hears about this, she’ll never talk to you again?!"

"Nala won't know." He replied. "I'll make sure of that." 

He placed his thumb above Jake's head, eying him for one last time. But his body was too impatient to let him finish, a flex heaving Jake inside. He barely had time to shout before his words became muffled, swallowed up by his own member as its length rose to his shirt.

Grlrk!..Glrk...Gllrrk!

Kev's eyes couldn't look away from his shaft, the small lump descending deeper inside as it disappeared into the base. It became tight as it traveled further back, flexing them upward as it tempted to send the small step-son into his bladder. But another opening was created, the small lump descending down as the loose skin of his sac bulged.

Plunk! His left nut swelled, depositing the lump into its chamber as it dropped into his palm. That felt good, really good.

"Let me out of here!" Jake muffled from the layer of muscle, snapping Kev out of his trance.

"No. You're going to stay there." He replied, placing his cock back into his pants. "Perhaps now, you'll understand to respect your peers."

Zipping up, he dragged his hand through Jake's clothes, fishing through his pockets where keys dropped out. This should provide a good cover up. Picking them up, he made his way out the door, Nala soon approaching as she climbed the last step.

"Hey dad, have you seen Jake? I can’t seem to find him.”

"He said he had to help a friend with gas, and didn't know when he’d be back."

“Strange? He normally tells me when he was going to leave."

“He was in a hurry.” he replied. “But he said to take his car to him, so that’s what I got to do. I’ll be back.” He made his way to the door, stepping outside as he got into Jake's car. More shrink serum sat on the passenger's seat, a list of ingredients placed just next to it. 

Why not, let's see how he made this thing. Picking it up, he scanned the paper, the ingredients mixed between carbon and a few doses from a nuclear plant. Wonder how he got his on that. Searching deeper, he looked at the bottom of the page, a paragraph bolded and underlined. "Do not contact with skin. Permanent shrinkage."

"Hmph, so this was your plan." He muttered. He felt pressure below, the valve to his balls spreading out as limbs slipped inside the tube. Unzipping his pants, he pulled his cock out and flopped it upon his lap, a little lump stretching from his nut as it compressed the walls. "Grow back in a day my ass, you knew what this thing was going to do to me, Didn't you? Well then.." He paused, Squeezing Jake back into his balls. "Guess that serves you right."

"Okay Okay, I messed up! I wasn't gonna do it! I promise. Now can you please get me out of here?!"

"No, you're seeing this one through. For the rest of your life as my nut."

"What?! Wait no you can't-" Jack was cut off as Kev stashed his sac back into his pants.

"Balls don't talk." He simply said, zipping his pants before he pulled the car out the driveway.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a good time for Kev as he drove through the neighborhood. He took a trip to the store and bought some snacks, deciding to wank off in the parking lot and set off steam. But then he relaxed, movement stirred as Jake climbed through his testicles, the wiggling bulge worming its way along the thin skin as cum spurted from his slit. Letting him get to the top, he waited until his little face peeked out from the lips, before clogging it with his finger. The power he felt in that moment, it was much better than when he did it with the lego.

 It could push, it can move, and he wasn’t going to let that go. He tilted his cock across his finger as he guided the bulged back inside. 

Glrk! The sound rang from his shaft, the bulge zooming back to his balls. When his cock laid limp on his lap, he cupped at his balls, watching the swollen wobble like a water balloon as Jake’s distorted yells vibrated the muscle. “It’s not great being part of a nutsack huh? Betcha wish you never pushed my buttons now.” he squeezed at the swollen bulge, pushing the protruding bulge beneath the warmth of his skin. As the sun started to cast behind the building,he took a moment to bask in its orange glow. He should probably head back, Nala might still be worried about him.

 Making his way back, Nala waited for him as she stood in the hallway. "Babygirl, I have some good news and bad news. The bad news is, I don't think Jake's coming back, he said he was moving out of state tonight."

"What? Why?"

"He didn't say, but he did say this..that you can have his car." He handed her the keys, watching them jangle into her palms. This is going to be a handful spin off on, but he supposed it was the best route than to say he disappeared. stirring resonated from his balls, faint thuds banging inside as his pants absorbed them. Heh, he's resistant he'll give him that.

Tears began to spread down Nala’s cheek, her gaze never leaving the keys in hand. He caressed her chin, and lifted her up as he brushed her hair. "There's no need to cry Nala, you are strong, and independent. Though he may be somewhere else, you still got a part of him."

"Thank you dad."

He nodded before making his way to the stairs, winking at her before he began to climb. Apart from what he said was true, she will have a part of him, but he will have the rest. He pulled at his cock as he let his balls swing between his legs like a pendulum, Muffles resurfacing  from inside. He scratched at them as he stood between the door frame. "Don't worry Jake, you and I will have plenty of time to get to know each other. Starting with my fleshlight."

He closed the door, locking it as he carried himself into his room. There, Jake's stay in His balls had begun. Lost between the layers of cock and clothes as Kev went about his day. And from that day, a week, and from that, a month. By the time Nala moved out, his balls already adjusted to Jake's presence, reduced to a little wrinkly amongst the sea of skin. And as Kev had his fun,, he couldn't help but think of that day when he swallowed him. He supposed he should thank him for the chance, now he can experience his fetish with ease, letting his balls swing as he walked nude around the house.

[yanandreckless]

Everybody Likes Kyle

You were woken up by a loud blare of guitars along with drums that sounded like they were urging you to jump right out of your skin.

Since that was an understandably tricky thing to do and you were not normally one for tricks, you merely jumped right out of your bed. Or well, attempted to, the mass of blankets you had wrapped yourself in like a burrito proved to be rather effective restraints, leaving you sitting upright with various fabrics coiled around your legs.

The loud groan as you rub your eyes does nothing, it neither alleviates your frustration or dispels the disoriented feeling as you try to get used to being awake in your own bedroom.

The screams then start.

Not from anyone in the building, there is no need to panic.

From whichever blasted machine that was playing the guitars and the drums at this unholy hour.

Who even manages to take a turn so far left from music to end up at… that?

Who is so rude as to play it at this ho…

You scramble for your phone. Promptly knock it to the floor. Sigh. Detangle yourself from the blankets. The screams seem to be urging you on in this totally attractive mockery of a butterfly getting out of a cocoon, weirdly enough.

Once you finally reach your phone, your knee cracking as you need to nearly crawl under your desk because why wouldn’t a completely non-spherical object tumble as far away from you as possible, and you realize it’s 11am, you feel no less irritated.

In fact, you feel more irritated. With yourself. You couldn’t even be irritated with someone else in peace.

Alright, so it wasn’t at an unholy hour that this… cacophony, because it sure as hell wasn’t music, was being played.

It was at a perfectly… holy hour?

It just still did happen to wake you up.

And for what? Who the fuck was even playing that? That never happened before, this building was rather quiet.

As if the cacophony wasn’t enough, loud thuds that sound suspiciously like heavy steps and furniture being moved around are now shuddering through the thin walls and floors and that is when you realize that 16B is finally getting a tenant.

Oh no.

***

Messy bun? Check.

Leggings? Check.

Oversized T-shirt without any breakfast stains on it? Check.

Teeth brushed? Uhhh… Mouthwash gargled? Check.

Hunting down slippers that belonged to the same pair was more challenging than it had any reason to be having in mind that you possessed no canines or felines who would mess with your footwear, but once that was finally done, too, you tried not to stomp (the effect would be ruined in soft bunny slippers anyway) angrily as you went to ask your new neighbor to tone down their… music.

You nearly fell over a huge box as soon as you stepped out of your apartment. Looking down, you jumped away as a sheen of fur alerted you to the fact that this might be a pet whose temper you do not know…

Except the fur wouldn’t move. And was a giant pelt. Suspiciously looking like it used to belong to a wolf.

Then you look around the assortment of boxes, trash bags, furniture pieces, and just… stuff lying all around the hallway. The questionable taste in music your new neighbor undoubtedly had seemed to extend to furniture as well.

You were staring at a gigantic Edwardian sofa that has been through what its owner most likely considered a genius furniture flip, its upholstery a shiny black and its wooden trim an offensive gold complete with… spikes. The sofa had spikes on the top of its backrest. Cushions were strewn on it, in shades of black, gold, and red and the similarly dated cabinet with glass doors had odd symbols painted in gold on its doors, like… a circle with a bunch of arrows pointing out of its center.

Another box near the one with the wolf pelt contained leather-bound books. So far the least visually offensive or odd thing here.

And then another… was full of skulls. Fucking sk-

The man who popped out of the ajar door of 16B had to bend to walk through.

He promptly pushed aside a heavy wooden treasure chest with his foot. The chest clanked like it was full of metal.

Once fully upright, he was… terrifying.

7 feet of broad, muscled, tattooed mass.

His head was shaved on the sides, with the hair on top dyed the same offensively flaming red his sofa cushions were. It was held in a high ponytail with what looked like a metal cylinder, ornate and as edgy as the rest of him.

Piercings (yes, several) on his brow and ears. Tattoos on his entire body, including the sides of his head. Nails longer than yours on his right hand, filed into points and painted black. Short and black on his left.

He looked like one of those thirst trap alternative guys on TikTok. You always weirdly assumed those guys weren’t real.

With a slight jerk of his chin toward his new apartment, (oh lord, this is your new neighbor! Is he going to sacrifice virgins on Saturday evenings? You worked on Sunday, for fuck’s sake!) he boomed, voice deep and rough:

“Haarken, turn the music down to 16.”

Huh. 16. The music became barely audible in the hallway instantly. He renamed his Alexa into… Haarken? Could you even do that? Also, he set up his Alexa before he unpacked?

“Hello there.” The TikTok demon grinned at you, revealing a row of straight teeth with suspiciously sharp canines, like they were modded. Of course they were. Half his books are probably what sells as occult at the same stores that sell crystals to heal cancer.

“Did I wake you?”

You smooth down your hopelessly wrinkled loungewear T-shirt, a ratty piece of crap that’s gray instead of black now, with some band image that you never recognized or cared about as you dug the garment out of a bin at a thrift store ages ago, when it was still black and whole.

“Is it that obvious?” You toss back and he chuckles. He sounds weirdly menacing as he does.

“A little. I suppose you’re next door?”

He jerks his head toward your unit and you nod.

“I’m Kyle.”

He extends a shovel-sized calloused hand for a handshake. It’s very warm and just as rough as it looks.

“Kyle.” You repeat dubiously. You expected him to introduce himself as a Samael or an Asmodeus or at the very least a Constantine. Nope. Kyle.

He raises both pale eyebrows at you (Kyle is apparently a natural blonde) and you realize that he’s expecting to hear your name in return, so you provide it.

“Nice to meet you. And I apologize for waking you. If you wish to keep me company as I take all this stuff in, there will be a homemade steak in it for you.”

It’s your turn to raise both eyebrows. Kyle looks frightening but he’s apparently polite. And you can’t remember the last time you ate steak. Let alone a homemade one.

“Do you always bribe people into hanging out with you?” You sass him jokingly and a deep line forms between Kyle’s eyebrows. You weren’t able to determine his age up until that point but you suspect he may be older than he looks anyway:

“I like to think of it as an enticing offer. Works better than force or a sense of obligation, don’t you think?”

You feel a bit shitty, since you tried to make a joke but Kyle seems genuinely miffed, his large nostrils a bit flared. So you just nod.

“That’s true. I do like steak. I just hope I don’t end up in this box.”

You point at the box with skulls and the deep line between Kyle’s eyebrows disappears. Your second attempt at a joke is more successful as Kyle barks an unattractive little laugh, one of the ones that sound like a pig:

“No, those belonged to enemies. Plan on not becoming an enemy.”

It’s mighty stupid to think Kyle is kind of cute. You do so anyway. 

[amandaherzman]

Hello! I was wondering if there were any plans to restock your herbologist zines? I've been wanting to purchase all of them, but I always miss the window whenever they are in stock, so I thought I would ask! :D Thank you and I hope you have a great rest of your day!

Hi, your question has perfect timing! I've been organising a restock, and its nearly ready to launch! Next Monday, the 25th of March*, 11am AEST all 4 zines will be going back into stock. I hope this helps, and thank you so much!! <3

[dreamdripdistance]

GOOD MORNING :) i have a acquired the lemonade :)

its 3 am and i want a no sugar lemonade really really really badly rn. like i dont wanna sleep till i drink one

[defiantcurse]

just the beginning of something i wrote! i also don’t know if it’s going to break it on its own or if i have to put stuff under the break anyway college au, literature student!dazai & skater!chuuya

His day started like any other, at 11am oversleeping and nearly missing his bus to university for what was probably the dozenth time already that semester. Dazai took a calculated risk by staying up all night to finish his paper but he was never one for mathematics. He could answer the problems but never had the ability to explain how he got his answers. He thanked his lucky stars that he'd already earned his math credits.

It's at this point that he realized he forgot to grab coffee before hopping on the bus and he was going to have to buy an energy drink on campus. He wondered if Kunikida would chastise him about it again or if he could get away with it.

Hopping off the bus he hurried along the sidewalks, not ready for his second semester midterms which were rapidly approaching. It was crunch time and that's why he'd been up so late anyway. Editing his rough draft for a midterm paper.

Fatigue started washing over him as he entered the campus building, beelining for the hallway with the vending machines where it appeared someone was trying to hijack the machine. The redhead stood little more than five feet tall and had his little arm halfway up the machine to get the can that was stuck. Dazai couldn't help the small snicker at the other man's predicament. He also ignored the part of him that admitted he'd do the same thing to get his hands on caffeine.

"Oh sure laugh at me now asshole, what about the drink you came to get for yourself? You can't get it out if this one's stuck," the shrimp said from where he was crouched on the floor.

Dazai leaned in and said, "Well if you would be so nice as to move out of the way I can solve both of our problems."

The man to his credit seemed a little sheepish as he extracted his arm from the vending machine, standing up and stepping back to allow Dazai access. Dazai then grips the top of the vending machine with one hand, the other on the side of it as he swings his hip out and into the machine, successfully dislodging the can inside. Dazai reached down and grabbed the soda, handing it to the surprised redhead.

"See? Good things come to those who wait Chibi,"He said with a shit eating grin.

"Excuse me Chibi? What kind of nickname is that for someone you just met??" The redhead said indignantly.

Dazai puts a hand out and squishes the air atop the other man's head and said, "You're chibi sized! Of course I'm going to call you Chibi!"

"Well if you had cared to ask my NAME is Chuuya, call me that instead. Anything but Chibi."

"Chuuuya~" Dazai rolled his name over his lips like smoke from a dragon's maw, a notable singsong effect to the name. "What a fitting name."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chuuya said defiantly, already popping off again.

Dazai's watch buzzed then, letting him know he only had five minutes to make it to class.

"Unfortunately for you, slug, I've got class, catch you later!"

Chuuya's indignant shout of "SLUG?" follows behind him as he runs to not be late to class. As he sits in his seat he realizes he never got caffeine and that this was going to be a long morning in lab with Kunikida.

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Chapter 8 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: The sound of no longer distant wedding bells loom in the air as the reality of Gloria's new life with Michael closes in on her.

Note: Pre-Cana is a retreat or series of courses that couples getting married in the Catholic Church attend (it varies by parish or diocese). It’s basically pre-marriage counseling from a Catholic perspective. Also, the novel doesn’t specify which battle Michael was wounded in, just that Life magazine ran the article on him at some point in 1944 and he was discharged in early 1945 after Vito bribed a military doctor to say Michael was too badly wounded for him to return to combat. With this in mind, I’m going with Peleliu, which would make the most sense considering the vague canon timeline and its high wounded and casualty rates.

Warnings: Descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, mainly morning sickness.

Chapter 7 | AO3 Link | Masterlist

Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

The moka pot on the stovetop hissed at Gloria while she was looking at the showtimes for Rio Bravo listed in that morning’s issue of Newsday. Grabbing a pen, she circled a few evening showings to present to Michael. If they got out of Pre-Cana early enough, they could catch a screening of it on the way to pick up the kids from her parents’ house.

Her elbow knocked against the espresso glasses she’d set out on the counter as she moved the moka pot off of the flame and onto a free burner. One of them nearly rolled onto the floor, but she managed to catch it just in time.

The espresso glasses were a brand new crystal set she’d bought at Lord & Taylor not long after they’d moved into the Long Beach house, making the drive upshore to Manhasset with Sandra. They were technically shot glasses, but the shop assistant in the housewares department enthusiastically assured her the glasses could withstand hotter temperatures. So far, they’d held up to the three or four small pots of espresso being made in the Corleone household each day. 

Michael always drank some in the morning and then in the afternoons, usually an hour or two after lunch. Al took his with sambuca, as did Connie. Sandra drank hers black and piping hot, and Tom sometimes drank his cortado, though he didn’t drink espresso after 11am, claiming the caffeine would keep him up all night otherwise. Ciro drank his with lemon, and Dominic, Al’s protegee and another newer face around the house, would drink his straight, unless Al was around, and he’d add sambuca, too. Anthony had even started drinking espresso, acquiring a taste for it at her parents’ house and shocking her and Michael one morning when he asked for some. 

Making espresso for everyone was one of the few ways Gloria was actually helpful in the kitchen, otherwise leaving the cooking to one of the Corleones or their maid, Margaret. The older woman had patiently taught Gloria how to cook Michael’s preferred breakfast of poached eggs and toast so she could make it when Margaret was off on the weekends.

Al Neri had let himself in, quietly, as he normally did, though his near silent arrival didn’t startle Gloria anymore.

“Morning, Al. Michael hasn’t come down yet. Espresso’s fresh, though. Help yourself.”

Al nodded. “Thanks, Gloria.”

“Have you eaten? I’m gonna make eggs when Michael comes down, and I think we have some leftovers from last night in the fridge.”

She’d already had a plate of cold ziti for breakfast herself. 

Gloria couldn’t concentrate on cooking for long enough to get any good at it, finding each step of the process mind-numbingly boring and would get distracted if she felt like something was taking too long to chop or boil or whatever she was supposed to do with the ingredients. One of the benefits of working with the casino’s restaurant in Vegas was getting free meals from the kitchen, usually extra food or untouched meals the picky patrons had sent back. Except to make coffee or heat up leftovers from work, she rarely ventured into her kitchen when living on her own.

Espresso took only a few minutes to brew, though, and she could multitask while keeping an eye on the pot. 

He shook his head. “I got a sandwich from that deli by my place on the way here.”

Al had bought a house in Lynbrook with the move, only a twenty minute drive from them, less if traffic wasn’t too bad. His place turned out to be about ten minutes from her parents’ house in Rosedale, which made Michael feel better about letting the kids spend the night there sometimes. Gloria liked Long Beach, though, especially since summer was rapidly approaching and some of the seasonal places were starting to open up.

“Do you go to the movies?” she asked, eyes flicking back to the showtimes in the paper on the counter.

“Not in a long time,” he said.

“I was thinking of asking Michael to take me.”

“Ask me to take you where?” Michael asked, walking into the kitchen and giving Gloria a kiss on the cheek. “Morning, Al.”

“To the movies. We should go see Rio Bravo.”

“Isn’t that a Western? You don’t like Westerns.”

“I like Ricky Nelson,” she said. “We haven’t been to the movies since we saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof last year.”

He conceded more easily than she expected. “Alright, darling. How about after Pre-Cana? We can get dinner and then go to the movies since your parents are watching the kids today.”

“Great! Oh, let me get your breakfast ready. Are you sure you’re not hungry, Al?” she asked.

He shook his head, opting for his espresso.

Michael poured himself some, and Gloria got to work on making his breakfast. The toast was easy enough, but she always felt like she could do a little better on the poached eggs. Though if Michael thought so, he never said anything to her. 

Gloria wasn’t sure what to expect from Pre-Cana. Michael hadn’t taken it with Kay since they didn’t have a Catholic wedding, and the concept was brand new when Jackie and Vivian had gotten married. The church secretary at St. Catherine’s said it wasn’t exactly a requirement, but strongly encouraged, which meant that if they wanted to keep their late August wedding date, they better go.

As soon as she scooped the poached eggs from the boiling water, the scent hit her nose in an unfamiliar, nauseating way, and she clumsily dropped the egg on top of the slice of toast, gagging as she did so.

Michael and Al shared a perplexed look as Gloria ran past them into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. 

She could hardly look at the contents of the toilet, promptly flushing it. A knock at the door startled her, though she should have expected Michael to check on her when she made such a scene.

“Gloria? Are you alright?”

“Yeah I—just give me a minute.” She clumsily grabbed a bottle of mouthwash beneath the sink, filling her mouth with the burning mint taste and spitting it out into the sink. She washed her hands, accidentally splashing the mirror with water when Michael abruptly opened the bathroom door.

“What made you sick?” he asked, concern evident in his features as he took in the burst blood vessels in her face, leaving the skin splotchy and her usual eyebags even darker.

“Maybe someone left the milk out too long,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she dried her hands. “I put it in my coffee earlier, and it smelled a little weird.”

Michael was silent, staring at her for a moment before seemingly accepting her explanation. “Should I call the parish and ask them to reschedule our Pre-Cana?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna sit outside. Get some air.” Because the mere thought of being in the room as those fucking eggs nearly made her gag again. 

She knew Michael was watching her from the window as she made her way to one of the patio chairs next to the vegetable garden. It had been his late father’s hobby in his retirement. Everyone who lived there since had kept it up in one way or another, all friends of the family, Michael had told her. As the house had never gone to strangers, they tended to the garden in Vito’s honor. Tom’s wife Theresa usually busied herself with it. Gloria helped once in a while, though she could tell Theresa didn’t care much for her and only made polite conversation whenever she was around. Perhaps Gloria’s presence served as a reminder of her husband’s infidelity with her own sister-in-law, unless Theresa really didn’t know, and disliked Gloria on the principle of her having been Michael’s mistress. Regardless, Gloria certainly wasn’t one to snitch on such a situation, and she had no qualms about keeping whatever secrets she needed to from whichever Corleone she needed to.

Gloria kept secrets from Michael even after he told her about Apollonia. Hers was about his other ex-wife, the one who he probably wished were dead. Instead, Kay was back in New England, just outside of Hartford, to be exact. Gloria had gotten the address from Connie, who’d been keeping in touch with her former sister-in-law. Using her parents’ house as the return address, Gloria had sent Kay the colorful crafts Anthony and Mary had made in school for Mother’s Day earlier that month.

Trying to hide an almost certain pregnancy from him was becoming a near impossible task. She looked at the tomatoes growing in their vines, green in the late spring and soon to be ripe and red in the coming weeks. Michael would be glad she was pregnant, she had no doubt about that. It was exactly what he wanted, and just what she dreaded.

She brought her fingers to her temples in an attempt to massage out the dull headache that emerged. The screen door opened, and she didn’t bother to see who’d come outside. Michael stood next to her, his shadow shielding her from the sunlight that exacerbated her headache. 

He handed her a glass of water. “Your head must be killing you.”

Gloria downed the water, cool droplets spilling from the corners of her mouth but paying it to mind. She set the glass down, wiping her face with the back of her hand, acutely aware of the way Michael was staring at her, deep in thought as he took in the state of her again.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I called the parish anyway, the secretary said there’s one we can go to next weekend. Think you’re up for a movie?” he asked. 

She smiled. “I think I can manage that.”

“I checked the paper, we can go to the screening at two, get an early dinner, and then go to your parents’.”

“Alright, I’m gonna take a nap, then. Wake me by one if I’m not up?”

He nodded, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. “Get some rest, darling.”

The first thing Gloria did when she got to the master suite was brush her teeth, avoiding her reflection. How long would it be before she began losing teeth? She knew plenty of women who’d experienced that or hair loss or brittle bones, all a result of the baby leeching nutrients from its host. 

When she got into bed, she buried her face in her pillow and screamed. So much had changed already, and the moment Michael caught wind she was pregnant, her life as she knew it would be his. There was no more hiding it, though, no possible way when there were eyes on her at all times. Every one of her soon-to-be in-laws were undyingly loyal to him in addition to the men he had at his disposal. Hell, he probably already knew.

Michael couldn’t have woken her up to go to the movies soon enough. Not that she figured she’s gotten any sleep anyway, too caught up in her thoughts to actually rest. But she needed to get out of the house and go somewhere. Maybe it’d be easier to tell him if they were in public, and she had to keep her composure.

In the theater, she focused on the movie, tried to enjoy herself despite Ricky Nelson not singing nearly as much as she’d hoped and her not caring much for Westerns to begin with. Michael had taken the time to go with her, though, and was trying to salvage the day so it wasn’t totally lost. His devotion, his attention was overwhelming at times, especially when so much of it belonged to her. 

“I still don’t like Westerns, but I like that song Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson did,” she said as they walked out of the movie theater.

Michael nodded. “Dean Martin’s always good.”

“Did you get a chance to see him when he did that show with Jerry Lewis at the casino? What was it, four years ago now? It was a riot.”

“I did. Kay and I went.”

Right. Gloria hadn’t been scheduled to work the three days Michael and Kay were there. She didn’t see him for nearly a month after that and figured their affair of nearly a year was over, surprised it had even gone on that long. No hard feelings, no love lost, fun while it lasted. Then he returned to Las Vegas on business, something Fredo had avoided telling her in what he perceived as an attempt to spare her feelings. She was friendly when she and Michael crossed paths in the casino’s lounge. Less than an hour after she was off the clock, they were up in that hotel room again.

Thinking about Las Vegas felt like watching a movie itself, as though it were someone else’s life entirely. She still longed for it from her invisible cage of domesticity and privately mourned for it as if it were the greatest love of her life. Maybe it was.  

“Anywhere specific you wanna eat?” Michael asked. 

Gloria cleared her throat. “Maybe we could try that restaurant up the street, the one with the seashell on the sign? I’ve never been, but Janine was saying it’s good.”

“Who’s Janine?”

“Michael, she lives two houses down from us.”

“The Avon lady?”

Among their neighbors, Gloria liked Janine the most. She didn’t mind Gloria hanging out at her house a few days a week and was pretty good company. Her house wasn’t pristinely tidy, and she’d sometimes get tipsy on sherry by 3pm and end up ordering Chinese takeout or making TV dinners for her family. Or maybe it had something to do with Gloria buying something every time a new Avon catalog came out. 

Gloria laughed. “Yeah, her. Mary’s going to her daughter Diana’s birthday party next month. She and my mom already picked out a gift.”

“Alright, let’s try it.”

“She said they have good Salisbury steak.”

“Salisbury steak? You must be feeling better from this morning.”

“I’m starving, actually.”

The few handfuls of popcorn she had in the theater certainly wasn’t enough to make up for two missed meals. Her stomach rumbled as they neared the restaurant, the smell of its kitchen mixed with the nearby sea breeze oddly enough to smell delicious in the moment. It wasn’t crowded for four in the afternoon on a Saturday. They were seated in a booth by a window that had a decent view of the beach.

“I’ll have a club soda, and she’ll have a rum and coke,” Michael said to the waiter.

Gloria shook her head. “Just a Coke for me, actually.”

Michael’s eyes shot over to his fiance, Gloria avoiding his gaze and playing with the corner of the tablecloth. The waiter took the hint to leave the couple alone, mumbling about giving them more time to look over the menu.

By the time Gloria let out a shaky breath, she knew he’d put two and two together, probably had since that morning. It wasn’t any easier for her to say it. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“Are you sure? Have you seen a doctor?” he asked.

“My period’s a few weeks late.”

“You’re scared,” he observed softly.

“I’ve never done this before,” she half-joked.

He reached over the table, taking one of her hands firmly in his. “You and our son will want for nothing. The best doctors are a phone call away.” When he noticed this didn’t seem to assuage her nerves, he added, “I’ll be with you through all of it.”

“I know you will.”

“Then you have no reason to worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You’ve known for a while, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Monday morning I want you to make an appointment to be sure.”

“I sure feel like I can eat for two,” Gloria said.

Michael smiled. “Then go ahead and order for two.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, seeming to wait until the intense discussion was over. He gave them another few minutes to look at the menu, and suddenly, Gloria wanted to order everything. Even asking Michael what he was getting, a grilled pork chop with green beans, didn’t help narrow down her options.

Gloria’s Salisbury steak came with two sides, and she chose mashed potatoes and creamed spinach after some internal debate. Before the waiter could walk back to the kitchen, she ordered a plate of grilled scallops, too. One of the things she had missed about living in New York when she was in Vegas was the fresh seafood.

“What do you think of Ciro looking after you?” Michael asked as he cut into his grilled pork chop. “Just whenever you leave the house, to be safe.”

“I like Ciro,” she said. “He’s nice. Kept a close eye on us during the bachelorette party.”

“Good. I trust him,” he said. “How are the scallops?”

She nodded her approval, sliding the plate toward him while chewing a chunk of steak she’d shoved in her mouth. As far as she was concerned, Salisbury steak and hamburger steak were the same thing, but for some reason, it felt like the greatest meal she’d ever eaten. Some of it was relief from not trying to hide her pregnancy from Michael anymore, even though she dreaded the thought of what the following eight months would involve. 

She glanced over at Michael. For all the rotten luck or poor decision-making in the world, he chose the one Sicilian girl without a maternal bone in her body. Then again, he always saw something in her no one else seemed to, and it even left her at a loss sometimes. For his sake, she hoped the baby was a boy, but personally had no preference and was already thinking of how often she could pass child-rearing responsibilities onto her mother. At least buying stuff for the kid and redecorating one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery would be fun. 

“I should get decaf, shouldn’t I?” Gloria mused aloud when they finished their meals, ready to order coffee.

Michael nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“That stuff’s awful.”

“It’s only a few months.”

“God, and I won’t even be able to drink at the wedding,” she lamented.

“Don’t worry, most of our guests will drink more than enough for the both of us.”

“How crazy is it gonna be?”

“I’d be surprised if there were less than two hundred people there.”

“Jesus,” Gloria whispered. “Is that including family?”

“Yours and mine, and then some acquaintances and business associates as well. I figured since we’re having the reception at the house, it wouldn’t hurt to invite the neighbors.”

“Really?”

“Like you said when we first moved in, they’ll notice if we’re antisocial. Just remember to keep them at arms’ length.”

The drive from the restaurant to her parents’ house felt oddly long for a weekend, but it gave her a chance to actually think about the wedding for the first time in a while. Connie and Sandra had taken on most of the wedding planning duties of their own volition, with Gloria in charge of picking out her dress, the cake, and a band to play at the reception. The latter was a task she took seriously, wanting to find a group that could play music to her tastes and also to that of the plethora of old school Sicilians who’d expect to hear a tarantella or two at some point during the celebration.

Gloria was relieved to see Vivian’s car in her parents’ driveway when Michael pulled up. Having Jackie and Vivian around always lowered the tension between her parents and Michael. Vivian liked him well enough, even though they’d butt heads at times. Jackie and Michael carried on friendly conversations on their own. Gloria wasn’t sure what she’d have done if Jackie disliked her fiance the way their father did.

“Hey Mike,” Jackie said, shaking Michael’s hand when they walked inside.

Michael smiled. “Good to see you, Jackie.”

“Hi Michael,” Jack said. “The kids are upstairs painting with Julia.”

“I’ll go see what they’re up to,” Michael said. “The kids love that craft room.”

Jack smiled. “Good, we’re glad to have them over any time.”

Michael disappeared upstairs, and Gloria followed her family into the living room, declining Vivian’s offer for coffee. Might as well try to be responsible, though if she’d known the shot of espresso she drank earlier that morning would be her last for the better part of a year, she would have savored it more. Or at least tried harder not to throw it up.

“How was Pre-Cana?” Jack asked.

“I got sick this morning, so we’re gonna go next weekend.”

“Again?” Julia asked as she made her way downstairs.

“It was some spoiled milk. I’m fine. We’re going next weekend, wedding’s still on, nothing to be concerned about,” Gloria said.

“We just got the invitation in the mail. You can mark us as a definite yes,” Vivian said. “How many people are going to be there?”

“The guest list was a little over two hundred fifty people long, last I heard.”

“Two hundred fifty,” Julia repeated. “Jack, did you hear that? I don’t think we had more than thirty at ours, both our families combined.”

“That’s because theirs isn’t gonna be all family,” Jack said. “Your fiance’s business associates, I’m sure.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Vivian scolded, trying to keep the heat off Gloria.

“Oh, Gloria, that’s shameful if he uses your wedding day as a front for all of that,” Julia objected.

Jack scoffed. “What else is it for? A cover for all of those people slinking about for their debts and favors. Just watch, you’ll be surprised at who shows up for his generosity .”

“You two are ridiculous,” Gloria said. “That’s not what it’s going to be like at all.”

She actually didn’t know what the hell the wedding was going to be like, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Michael’s work did keep him away for some of the reception. Because there were things pertinent to running an olive oil importing company that required him to step away from family events for hours at a time. Even if he spent the day glued to her side, she was sure her parents would find something to pick apart.

Frustrated, she headed outside and couldn’t light a cigarette fast enough. Jackie followed her, though he kept his distance, standing closer to the back door than she was. 

“Hey,” Jackie said. “Everything alright?”

“Just mom and dad being jerks about Michael and the wedding.”

“They’ll come around. He’s not a bad guy.”

“You really like him?”

“I don’t know what he does for a living, and I don’t really care. All I know is, this guy got transferred to my company after he got wounded on Peleliu. That article came out just before Christmas in ‘44. We got the magazines with these shitty rock-hard cookies that had nuts in them. But he said Michael was a good captain, saved his life. Some guys said it was a real shame he got discharged before Okinawa. They really admired him.”

Gloria took a long drag from her cigarette, letting out a shaky exhale. In nearly fifteen years, that was the most Jackie had said to her about his time overseas. All she knew was that he was with the First Marines and didn’t write many letters home, but when he did, it seemed like he was always on a different island and had less and less to say. After he returned to New York, he’d answer her questions with one-word responses or pretend he didn’t hear her at all. 

She learned not to take his avoidance of the topic personally, though it took a while. The only person who knew the most about what Jackie experienced, besides the men he fought with–few of whom he kept in touch with over the years–was Vivian. In that case, Gloria didn’t pry, not wanting to pressure her sister-in-law to betray her brother’s confidence.

“Why is this the first time you’re telling me about it?”

“It wasn’t exactly a fucking vacation, Gloria.”

“I know that. Michael’s told me enough about it to have a clue. That’s why I talked to him in the first place five years ago, and that’s how I ended up back here. Because I wanted to understand what happened to you, but you shut me out.”

“What was I supposed to say to you back then? You were a thirteen-year-old kid!”

“I don’t know! Just…something. I missed you so much, Jackie, and it was like you left and never came back.”

“I didn’t. That’s what you have to understand, Gloria. Alright? Michael–he got fucking shot and came out of it better than most guys I know. Whatever the hell he does, he’s good at it. It’s like he can put his emotions in a box and leave them there. That’s why he’s good for you.”

“Compartmentalize.”

“What?”

“The emotions in a box thing. He compartmentalizes.”

“There you go.”

Gloria stubbed out her cigarette on her heel. “I’m glad you like him. I don’t think mom and dad ever will, though.”

“All that mob stuff’s true, huh?”

“He doesn’t tell me a lot, but probably.”

“I bet the cops are gonna be all over the wedding.”

“Oh, I can just see dad telling them all the details now.”

Jackie snickered. “It’ll be fine.”

“With two hundred fifty people there? Fat chance.”

[doomduck]

Today in skating I got stranded at a train station on the way to the rink thanks to the cops shutting it down in both directions.

And having only had one coffee so far that morning, the whole debacle did not put me in a good mood.

So it was either wait nearly 20min for a bus with a nearly 20min bus ride to a metro station to wait god knows how long a wait for a metro train.

Or wait indefinitely to find out if they would organise bus to take us back the way I came.

Nearly called dad to save me. But I waited. Ended up getting a replacement bus that went express to southern Cross station. Yeah!

Grabbed something to eat on the waybto the rink. By that point I had last eaten a little after 7am. It was after 11am by the time I got to docklands.

No off ice warm up and the ice was garbage. While it wasn't busy by Sunday standards dodging people was still a pain in the arse. Also scary as I watched a figure skater trying hydroblade in the middle nearly taking out other figure skaters and children a like. I'm not sure what I should have done about that to be honest. I'm a bit baffled that the rink staff didn't call her out on it.

Everything was just off today. Probably because I was worrying about if I was going to be able to get home or not. And no warm up.

Trains ended being business as usual on the way home so was worried for nothing.

On the upside i came home to this:

I was not expecting the hoodie. I thoughtI onlyorderedthe blue ray so its a delightful surprise. Its a perfect fit. I will be wearing skating. Guess what next week's skating theme is lol.

Prologue looks to be the December 5th performance (which is my birthday also when yuzu announced gift). I also wore the Prologue tshirt to the rink today. So yuzuru saves the day again lol.

[pentuppen]

The Pro's and Cons of FanFic Writing

I'm going to go ahead and admit I'm writing this instead of getting on with the business of writing another chapter, but why the fuck not, Stephen King gets by on 6 pages a day and I'm nearly three down before 11am. Time for me to waffle on and dump some of the clutter in my brain!

I love the fact that I have returned to writing fics after 7 years with such a vengeance. Back then, in the days of Solacemancers and Fen' Haral angst, I could barely make 7 chapters, now....well those of you who have been following me can still see where that's going. It is a privilege and a joy to entertain others with such wonderful characters, but fic writing does have its downsides.

Imposter syndrome - This shit follows me for like 8 out of 10 chapters and if it wasn't for my wonderful beta reader and all the people who left comments, it would have buried me into stopping long before I even considered a book 2 for Loose the Arrow.

I don't know where we're going - Ah yes that feeling you get when you don't have a whole story planned and you are literally making shit up as you go along. I swear some of my fics feel like just a bunch of cool events I have to hurriedly chain together till they make sense, and sometimes that can take DAYS!

I'm not a writer - Writing Fanfic, there is always going to be moments where you will denigrate your own work simply because you are writing a fanfic. You forget that this is supposed to be for fun and not really for any kind of gain.

Knowing when to stop - This is a particular issue for those of us that write long term fics, especially if people are invested in them. Once you get the ball rolling you sort of feel you have to keep it going or you'll disappoint people, and its hard to tell yourself on the days you feel off or its just not clicking, to just shut down the google docs and give yourself a break

There are just a few and please feel free to add more, it also likely applies to a good portion of the wonderful artists I have seen in the community. Nobody is a harsher critic than ourselves, even when we have every cause to be celebrating the works we have accomplished.

But you know, all it takes is the right comment, the right reaction and enthusiasm to get us right back on track. So as I sit here, avoiding a chapter that needs my attention, while my poor old laptop chugs away desperately pleading for retirement, I think it's a good thing to recognise all the people who encourage us.

To the Beta Readers, who corral our self worth and go through the exhausting task of putting our poor shrivelled brains back in order!

To the commenters who's reactions spark more inspiration than they will ever know!

To the Fan Artists who come up with amazing work for the sheer love of yours!

To the mad friends who challenge us to do the shit we come up with on the fly!

Thank you for making this hobby a continued joy for me and others like me day in and day out.

<3