#maybe six of one half dozen of another.

[notbecauseofvictories]

I just finished The Rehearsal by Eleanor Catton, and I have to say---there's nothing like setting your novel among the youthful and arty to confuse a reader as to whether you're being overly pretentious and sticking monologues in characters' mouths, or if you're cunningly and accurately parodying how the most annoying Art Teens would like to speak every moment of every day, if anyone would let them.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

oh yeah also have to shout out the young queer theatre-enjoyer (as doer or audience) with christian parent experience of "at least i can be in the choir & be one of like 2-4 tenors & enjoy singing harmonies & most of practice is just chilling b/c it's 95% playing the melody 50x for the twenty sopranos who still don't have it down" while also not having to deal with sitting in the midst of the pews or whatever

[renecdote]

rebirth

Bi Buck cured my writers block, please have this short little episode coda for 7x04. [Read on AO3]

It’s after one a.m. when the light, bubbly excitement in his stomach sours, fear creeping in. Buck’s next breath sticks in his chest, his heart races, his fingers start tingling, and it’s so much like what kissing Tommy did to him, but for all the wrong reasons this time. His phone screen is suddenly too bright in the darkness, his search history a towering mess of questions, and Reddit threads, and quizzes he clicked into then out of before he could finish taking them.

The problem, he thinks, is that it felt so right. Tommy tilted his chin up and pressed their lips together and it felt like—himself, for the first time in… forever, maybe. Buck doesn’t know what he’s meant to do with that. Go out on Saturday night, maybe (hopefully) kiss Tommy again (and again and again and again), but then… But then?

He wants to call Eddie because he always wants to call Eddie. He wants to blurt out all the things he kept under his tongue when he apologised earlier. He wants to hear Eddie say his name, soft and warm and knowing, because if anyone can make him feel seen and heard and at home in his own skin, it’s Eddie. He wants so hard it’s almost painful.

But it’s the middle of the night, he can’t call Eddie.

He can’t call Maddie either. She would answer, he knows, and she’d have just the right words for the spiralling anxiety that’s sucking him in, but he’s not going to scare her with the phone ringing in the middle of the night. There have been too many calls like that that have only been bad news.

He won’t worry Hen or Bobby with a call like that either.

And as much as Buck wants to confide in them, wants to crack his chest open and show his family what has been inside the whole time, there’s another part of him that doesn’t want to share. Not yet. He feels like the newborn calves he saw at the ranch in Montana, young and fragile and unsteady as he tries to find his feet. The world suddenly feels bigger. Brighter. And it’s exciting, it’s freeing, but he can’t help feeling daunted, like he might get lost if he’s not careful.

“Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. He thinks of that first breath of air when his head came above water in the tsunami, he thinks of being struck by lightning, he thinks of stepping into Station 118 for the first time, he thinks of catching the Jeep keys Maddie tossed him in the dark of a Hershey street all those years ago. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

Did the first time you kissed a girl feel like this? he wants to ask Hen. Does it feel like this every time?

Is this the magic you were talking about when you first met Shannon? he wants to ask Eddie.

I figured it out, he wants to tell Bobby. I figured out what being at ease with myself feels like.

He has a shift in six and a half hours, but sleep feels as impossible as it did when he first climbed into bed. Buck lifts a hand to trace his lips in his dark, reliving the memory of Tommy there. He imagines Tommy everywhere else too, trailing his hand down his body, fitting Tommy into all the places a few dozen women have touched before. He feels like a teenager, giddy at just the thought of sex—of everything—and he exhales a laugh in the dark.

Buck opens his phone again and sends a text to the one person he knows is on shift and might already be awake: when you said you’d pick me up on Saturday, you meant in the chopper right?

Tommy replies instantly: those things are a bitch to park

And a second later: maybe on the third date

There it is again: breath stuttering, heart racing, fingers tingling. Buck wonders if this is what it feels like to get behind the controls and fly. He grins at his phone. He can’t wait to find out.

[evilminji]

Okay, But, >.> Listen...

So MAYBE, just MAYBE, I am an incureable RoFan Isekai nerd. Shut up about it, maybe. What're you a cop? Mind your business. BUT! And hear me out...

W...What would actually? HAPPEN if Danny went into a Visual Novel? Some Otome game? You know, aside from being vague flustered by and then DEEPLY ALARMED by these walking Red Flag Fruitloops that girls are supposed to find "dreamy" or something?

Like we know how MMOs work for him. And probably OTHER open world games? But a visual novel? Would it be like the Christmas Episode? Would he hear narration? Be stuck in static "scenes"? Or would it be like a cut together "only the interesting parts" movie that he's somehow IN?

Like?? At SOME point his curiosity is gonna get the best of him. He's gonna want to know what different video games are LIKE on the inside? What's Pong like? Tetris? Mario? One of those Mama's cooking games? Etc etc.

He probably hits up a game sale. Buys a box or two. Figures he can always resell um or just give them away for free. Might even use them for parts. Who knows. And?

It's kinda cool!

It's even SCIENCE! See? Tucker's in charge of notes. Sam's in charge of hilarious commentary and pizza. Jazz is keeping them from drinking and doing ghost shit (terrible combination, we never speak of What Happened(tm) again). And the Dr's. Fenton got distracted by making fudge and debating what games should be counted towards which categories.

They've made an afternoon of it.

And NOW? They've reached the bottom of box one. It was "Survive The Villainess! My Rose for You!" Or... judging by Sam's climbing eyebrows and growing scowl? A DEEPLY unpleasant porn game about school girls.

You could not PAY him enough.

Yeah, he DOES realistically kinda want to know what happens.. if.. like? You know... sexy games... like would he? Or does he just WATCH or...? *awkward cough* But! That's NOT for Family Science Night! And DEFINITELY not THAT game, THANKS.

He'll find himself an ETHICALLY SOURCED smutty game full of consensual boning. For PRIVATE TIME. Those test results are gonna show up like MAGIC and we WILL NOT be talking about them! Got it? Good.

Now what the fuck is he look at here?

Jazz is surprisingly knowledgeable. They are not allowed to ask. They respect it. The main character "wakes up" inside the body of a "villainess" and must survive. Turn her terrible reputation around. Avoid "death flags". Preferably romance one of the hot guys?

Uuuuuuuh... you realize Danny's in a committed relationship, right?

Sam and Turker allow it. But they reserve the right to blast his taste in Fantasy Guy's. Chose carefully, for their roasting shall be BRUTAL. Luuuuuv yoooou~♡

He wants a divorce. They're not even MARRIED and he wants a divorce. You see how they mock him, Jazz? The cruelty he suffers? He's taking the Blobs and moving to Frightknight's. They always warned him about you living folks and your fast ways, but he didn't listen! *continued dramatics* *is smacked with a pillow*

But actually going IN? The weirdly, vaguely European over the top EVERYTHING? Giant jewels and ridiculous, fancy dresses? The walking red flag Romantic Archtype Leads? He wants to PUNCH half these guys! This is ABUSE! Are people OKAY!?

Like? I feel like he'd stay way, WAY longer then he needed too? Just out of morbid curiosity? W-where is this plot GOING? It's so dramatic. Why is my dress MORE dramatic now? Why is everything so... Sparkly.

It would be? AMAZING and baffling and I would pay real money to hear their live commentary. "Why not simply judo flip the crown prince off the balcony, then take over the country, sweetie?" "Solid plan, honey! He deserves it!" Beautiful. Flawless. Sage advice really. Too bad Danny can barely walk in his five million bows dress.

It's the BEST Au and I might be a genius. Or deeply sleep deprived. Meh. We'll 50/50 it, six of one, half a dozen of another.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[hannie-dul-set]

CRASH & BURN.

p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — fluff, humor. w — swearing, one absolutely horrendous dad joke, the secondhand embarrassment is even worse this time i'm not sorry at all, the rest of the en-kids are also losers. 1.3k words.

note — listen, who am i to deny the public from their needs and wants? i have no idea how rizzless hoon became such a hit, but ask and you shall receive. i'm sure this won't be the last you'll see of this loser. PART ONE. if you enjoy loser! hoon, you might also enjoy this other series of mine.

also tagging those who were asking for a part two hope u all don't mind! — @gyulune @jngwnlvs @snowysab @miercerise @karinasswifee @cerealdreamwriter @dinonuguaegi @tyongff-ff

for the past five days, you have been routinely returning to the skatepark at the same time without fail. this has obviously attracted questions from your friends considering the first time you tried out a longboard, you crashed and scraped and bruised your chin within seconds, but you can’t exactly tell them the truth about your endeavor— that you’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of mr. kuromi bandaid with the rollerblades again, and being left disappointed every single time.

he hasn’t shown up. not even once.

it’s day five, and there’s still no sign of him nor his lollipop. it’s day five, and you’re just about to give up until you spot from your peripheral a familiar group of boys that scared the shit out of you the other day— except this time, they aren’t staring at you like maniacs, and they seem to be one person less.

“are you fucking stupid?” you overhear as you hesitantly approach their circle, cautious steps because they’re still as intimidating as you can remember. they all look so serious, two individuals glaring at each other while the rest simply watch, both unconcerned and amused. “oh yeah? you really think you can beat me? wanna duke it out right now, dickwad?”

cold sweat breaks out and you freeze in your tracks, expecting them to spiral into a fist fight.

“my dragonite will sweep your fucking team, loser.”

“your dragonbitch doesn’t stand a chance against my tyranitar!”

nevermind. you really shouldn’t be so quick to judge them again.

you regain the bounce in your step and race up before they could metaphorically kick each other's asses.

“hi!” 

you flinch when the six heads suddenly snap towards you. your smile twitches, discomfort  lasering into your skin from the half a dozen set of narrowed eyes leering at you so intently and so intensely. “who are you?” the one previously bragging about his dragonite asks.

“dumbass.” another one smacks the former on the backside of his skull. “it’s shoelaces.”

the nickname sets a few lightbulbs off, and a pair breaks away from their violent staring at you to give each other knowing glances. “oh, shit!” this time it’s mr. tyranitar who exclaims. “right. the dude hoon absolutely decimated himself in front of. poor guy. he’s still going through the five stages of grief.”

hoon must mean sunghoon. you want to open your mouth and present your business about the missing individual, but it’s not so easy to butt in when they’re busy conversing amongst themselves.

“what do they want?” 

“how should i know? i’m not them?” 

“no fucking shit. but what do you think they want?”

“maybe it’s about hoon?”

“no way. that guy’s done for.”

“hey, don’t be too harsh on him! he’s grieving!”

“what if it’s because we‘re being too loud—”

“what if they’re here to have a pokemon batt—”

“you do realize they can hear you, right?” 

light-haired guy is right. you can very much hear them, and they’ve all finally quieted down, slowly turning their heads to you once more but with a dampened intensity this time. they’re waiting for you to speak. you can’t believe you thought they were scary. you can’t believe you were intimidated by a group of nerds.

“sorry for the intrusion,” you smile, pressing your palms together. “i noticed one of your friends hasn’t been coming around lately. is he okay?”

a cough. a nudge. a silent conversation between the six pairs of eyes. “he’s been sick these past few days,” dragonite owner finally says. “sickeningly unbearab— ow!” 

your smile disappears. “oh no.” he’s sick? he already didn’t seem that strong when you met him the other day, collapsing into the ground and all.

“i think you can help him get better— ouch! jungwon, what the fuck?” one of them gets hit again. you’re sure it’s been the same guy hitting the rest of them since earlier.

“why are you asking about him?”

the nicest looking one squeezes out of their group while asking his earnest question, fishing out the answer from you with bright, curious eyes. “ah,” you sound out. “i just wanted to tell him that i also think his shoelaces are really cool.”

they stare at you, then stare at each other. and then someone spews out, “is that a new pick-up line, or some shit?” before getting hit again, and the light-haired guy comes forward to block the squabble happening behind him, and to tell you that they’ll be dragging their friend tomorrow at the same time (isn’t he supposed to be sick?) so you can compliment his shoelaces in person(?), and that they are looking forward to welcoming you to their family (whatever the fuck that means).

as promised, they do drag the sick man into the skatepark— literally dragging him because the guy who introduced himself yesterday as jake is pulling him forward by the sleeve while jungwon pushes him from behind as the wheels of his roller skates make sure that sunghoon keeps on moving. he looks like he’s ready to move on into the afterlife. your eyes light up when they drag him closer.

“c’mon, hyung! just a little bit more— a liiiiittle bit—

“i told you, i’m never coming back here again!“ you hear him groan, attempting to break away from his escort team. “never ever. never again. this is is where half of my dignity is buried. my pride. my shame. my—”

and then he freezes.

sunghoon gets frozen by an invisible force when your eyes meet, frozen but his cheeks are set ablaze. his friends did a great job in escorting him to you, encasing him and in consequence his view of his surroundings until you’re within an arm’s reach so he doesnt run away. the heat from his face thaws him back into movement, panicked and angry expressions sent to his friends and they all look pretty stupid trying to talk with just their eyebrows, but it’s cute nonetheless.

“hey!” you finally chipper in, causing sunghoon to freeze once more, creaking to meet your gaze. 

“h—hello. hi.”

sunghoon’s greeting comes out as a choke. jake and jungwon send each other signals before hurling the poor boy at you.

it’s like he’s suddenly forgotten how to skate. he can’t control his muscles, sliding over the short path at a dangerous speed that mimics his racing heart and oh shit— oh shit, oh shit. how does he stop again? how does he make a turn? how does he not fucking crash into you like a meteor being sucked into the earth’s orbit?

“oh!”

like all of his (very limited) interactions with you, sunghoon crashes and burns. it’s inevitable. but this time, he crashes and burns into you. you’re both on the concrete and his hand feels like it got crushed between the hard ground and the back of your head, but that pain quickly subsides into a numbing buzz, pumping his arteries with nectar, burning his veins with gasoline, because holy crap—

“close.”

“you’re right, that was a close call,” you breathe out. “i could’ve cracked my skull open.”

“i— i mean, close, you’re— you’re too close.”

does he realize that you can’t exactly move underneath him? he probably doesn’t, not when you can practically see the smoke emitting from his head and the panicked swirl in his eyes and you can’t help but laugh. “ah, sorry.” that was a mistake. sunghoon’s face flushes warmer and like a hammer to his skull, the realization hits and he and slowly pries himself off of you.

“sorry—”

“it’s fine.” you sit up and brush the dust off your clothes, stretching out your legs as you nudge yourself closer to him on the ground. “your friends told me you’ve been sick. are you feeling better now?”

“huh?” 

you’re not sure why he’s confused, but he looks very confused before turning his gaze to his friends. you find jay snapping out a thumbs up and sunoo’s stern face somehow reading don’t fucking blow it. he turns back to you with a lot more sweat on his neck than prior. “oh, yeah i was sick, i was so sick, ahaha—” he stammers. “a—anyway, what’s up?”

“i just wanted to see you again. it’s not everyday that i get a compliment on my shoelaces, you know?” you smile. “what about today? aren’t they prettier than the last ones?”

you wiggle your shoes to show off, laced in a complicated pattern that you’ve been practicing for the past five days, and you expect to receive another compliment for it, but sunghoon is oddly quiet. 

he’s quiet. you’re sure you chose a cool pair of shoes this morning. you’re about to be disappointed, until you notice that he’s actually thinking. he’s thinking very hard he’s thinking of something, and that something comes out of his mouth in the form of a badly timed pun.

“...what about...toe-day...”

park sunghoon only knows how to crash and burn. all his friends are a witness to that. they’re a witness to this events that transpired this afternoon, but what they didn’t expect is for you to have an affinity for disasters. you’re laughing at his dumb joke. you’re actually laughing. they’ve been shitting on sunghoon for being hopeless, but maybe there’s something wrong with you, too.

CRASH & BURN.

© hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for baking?

🍰

^ (so I can find later)

I (16f) really enjoy baking as a hobby—it’s one of the only non-computer related hobbies I have, and I make baked goods maybe once every 2-3 weeks. I give a lot of stuff out to my friends and neighbors, but sometimes it’s nice to keep stuff for myself and my household, which is my mom and my aunt, if they want some. But recently my mom and aunt have asked me not to bake anymore, because my aunt is obese and trying to lose weight. But I don’t think I should have to stop engaging in a hobby I enjoy because of that? I don’t force her to eat the things I make, but also her weight loss seems entirely dependent on me and my mom—if my mother or I don’t cook nutritional meals for the her my aunt will just eat chips and fast food, and she has no job and the only time she gets out of bed is to walk from her bedroom to the kitchen, so she’s not making an effort to exercise or be more active. She’s not really trying to lose weight imo because all of her “efforts” rely on people that aren’t her. If I make a dozen brownies and she sneaks into the kitchen into the middle of the night to eat SIX all at once it’s my fault and not hers? I feel like I’m being blamed for an issue that isn’t my fault or my problem. She’s struggled with her weight since before I was born and I sympathize with that, but I don’t think it’s fair to say my hobby is the issue, and I don’t plan on stopping when this will just be another half hearted weight loss effort that won’t work. AITA for continuing to bake after my aunt asked me not to?

What are these acronyms?

[robinsdearest]

This isn't what it looks like

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Five times the birds catch you, and the one time Bruce finally does.

Damian catches you first. It’s late in the night, or early in the morning, depending on how you view the clock. Six one way, half a dozen the other. No matter because your youngest is already demanding an answer for your whereabouts. He can tell something is wrong from the way you jump from your skin when he surprises you. He found you walking up the stairs from the BatCave, and your question regarding his bedtime was dismissed quickly.  You have a certain smell to you that he immediately places. His interrogation is thorough, you do admit to yourself, because he simply cares about you and your safety. He also loves his father and you can see the conflict in his eyes as the gears in his head turn and turn.  You try your very best to explain the circumstance, but you are failing miserably and cannot fully mitigate this instance. You think your secret will be revealed to Bruce before Damian gives you a slight nod after careful consideration.  Damian promises to keep your secret in return for a new pet. Your immediate question is to know which one he wants. You're not above buying compliance.

Jason catches you second. His confrontation is less aggressive than Damian’s turned out to be. You’re not even home when the Red Hood finds you. You’re coming out of an unremarkable garage when he drops from the roof right in front of you. Your yelp of surprise sends a flock of birds scattering to the wind. Jason only crosses his arm to stare at you in silence while you fidget under his glare.  You are blessedly given another chance to explain the circumstance, and Jason is much more receptive and understanding. His gaze flicks between you and the open door to the garage. When he finally spots what sits there, his arms go slack. He takes off the hood and simply listens to the rest of your story. Once you’re done and you think he’s going to call Bruce, Jason throws an arm around your shoulder and steers you back to the garage. He has a few items to negotiate for his silence. 

Tim catches you third. In truth, you had thought he would be the first to catch you. His hacking and investigative skills rivaled that of Bruce’s on a bad day and far exceeded Question’s on a good day.  You thought you had erased any trail of your small venture out of town, but it seems even attempting to cover your tracks was foolish, as this was child’s play for Red Robin. Tim sits in front of the computer and brings up a map of the area you have just returned from. Your face is hot with strong embarrassment as you grip your bag. He slowly turns the chair to face you, an inquisitive eyebrow raised waiting for your defense. You try to plead your case with hard evidence and logical reasoning: it really was a small venture, and you were only gone for less than ten hours, which is amazing in this day of age, and- In an incredibly surprising twist of fate, Tim only acknowledges your story by removing the map from the screen and deleting the record logs. He sips his coffee and tosses his head towards the exit, dismissing you entirely. Your knuckles are white and tight wrapped around your bag as you head upstairs. 

Cassandra catches you fourth. She’s so quiet, you didn’t even realize she was with you until she tapped your shoulder. Your scream is shrill and you thought the glass from the small window would burst. After your body doesn’t fail you with an imminent heart attack, you look back to Cass as her small smile grows into something more sinister.  You don’t even have a good explanation for tonight’s journey. Your plans are in ten minutes, and if you don't show up on time, your company is going to be so upset. You try and explain as quickly as possible. As she sits there and listens to you, you finally realize that maybe your kids are in on it all together and are waiting for the perfect moment to expose you. Too many people are going to know, and you know Bruce would kill you- even worse, potentially divorce you- if he found out.  She signs something that allows your shoulders to finally relax. 

Dick catches you fifth. He’s more disappointed than angry, in reality. Damian had confessed to him in a bit of panic when you hadn’t returned to the Manor after a few hours of being gone. Dick had cornered you in your study as you were finishing a few additional work papers the next day. He demanded to know why you were doing it, if Bruce’s happiness wasn’t enough for you, or if you wanted to send the man to an early grave. You could tell Dick is hurt, and you feel more guilty than you ever had before. You hadn’t taken into account the feelings of your own kids until this conversation.  You know your begging doesn’t work on your oldest; he learned his puppy dog eyes from you, and they’re not very effective when used on each other. Instead, you offer him another solution as an explanation enough. He begrudgingly agrees and follows you out of the manor. A few hours later, Dick is breathless, yet still promises to keep his mouth shut for the time being.

When Bruce finally catches you, he’s shocked, to say the least. Devastated at best.  “You’ve got to be joking.” He’s standing in the middle of the Batcave, sans any and all gear or kevlar. Damn, you had really banked on the Batman being in Metropolis tonight.  “I can explain, I promise!” You have the thought to tell him how good he looks in gray sweatpants, but his face is contorted in anger.  “How long has this been going on? How many times?” He’s circling you in that predator way that you’ve seen Batman circle villains on the street.  You can do nothing but toy with the hem of your shirt that still smells like gasoline and the outside winter air. You sit in the chair next to the Batcycle, the heat of the motor singing a few hairs on your arm.  You had finally been caught, by Bruce, nonetheless. He is for sure going to divorce you; death would be too kind. You explain what has been going on, and like too good of a man, he listens until you are finished speaking.  Bruce calls each of your kids to the cave. When they finally arrive, Bruce demands the truth. To their credit, not one of them lies, and they confirm your story. 

“Hold on.” He stops them from speaking as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re standing there, telling me, that my wife- my wife with almost no training- has been going out at night in the military-grade vehicles specifically made for fighting crime, for months, and not a single one of you was going to tell me?”  You didn't think you had the heart to tell him it was closer to a year. Damian spoke though. “Father, I found her after taking the Batcopter a few months ago.” You couldn’t sleep that night while Bruce was patrolling, so you took the helicopter to Wayne Enterprises to get a few things of work done. It wasn’t the first time you had stolen one of the many vehicles Batman hoards, but it was the first time you had gotten caught.  Bruce’s eyes are digging into you, and you do feel a little guilty now for not telling him any of this.  Jason yells from across the cave. “She had the Batmobile across town.” You had taken the tumbler out to go meet Lucius for a few improvements to the vehicle’s controls; the brake was sticking and you knew it would cause problems for Bruce eventually. You could see Jason’s shit-eating grin from your seat. Bruce held his head with both hands now. “We switched out the tires, too old man.”  Tim didn’t even look up from the computer. “Batplane. She flew to Jamaica and back a couple weeks ago.”  Bruce whips his head to you.  “Alfred said he needed jerk spice, and you know he only likes the traditional kind from the stores in Kingston!” You cry.  Cassandra is only sitting on the boat, which is confirmation enough for Bruce as he turns her way. She had been sitting in the boat cabin while you crossed the Delaware Bay to visit Metropolis for a happy hour with Lois and Diana. You let Cassandra drive the boat back while you talked about your night with the other women.  Dick calls out finally. “B, I was going to tell you after I caught her with the motorcycle.” Bruce throws his arms up as he knows that a contrasting statement is coming. You crack a small smile when it does. “But she challenged me to a race, and I couldn’t say no. She beat me across town, and the punishment for not winning was keeping quiet. That was a few days ago.”  Bruce lets out a mirthless laugh before turning back to you. You give your husband of nearly two decades a sheepish grin. He comes over and drops to squat before you. He takes your left hand where your wedding band proudly sits on your ring finger. He toys with it for a second before turning your hand over and kissing your palm. He sighs dejectedly and lifts his head to kiss you properly.  “You should have told me. I would have made time to make sure things were safe.”  “I didn’t want to worry you. Also, I can take care of myself with my minimum training." You kiss his nose so that he stops scrunching it. "Besides, be proud that our children worked together to help me keep this secret to maintain your sanity. We love you, just remember that." “So you told everyone but me and Alfred?”  You wince, and the movement makes Bruce slap his forehead. He mutters something small beneath his breath that sounds an awful lot like a prayer.  “Alfred might have been the one who gave me the keys for everything.”

[ryanmarshallryan]

Just Another Day at the Beach (Another Vore Story)

Felt like making a sequel to one of my favorite stories I've posted, "How Far I'll Go - A Day at the Beach." Made it quickly, but had a fun time. Happy Vore Day! Enjoy!

Sean went to the beach to watch the sunset. The little bar of sand was still fairly crowded with folks who had the same idea as him. He sat behind a little family, and just to the right of a surprisingly rotund man, who was lying down asleep on his back on a beach towel so big it must have been custom made. As he watched the red sky turn to twilight violet and blue, he noticed the family cleaning up and getting ready to go. There was a great big blue cooler next to them that they appeared to have forgotten about, so Sean called over to them as they were walking up the beach.

“Hey! I think you forgot your cooler!” Sean hollered.

“It’s mine,” said the big bellied man a ways over to his left. Sean thought the man was asleep and was surprised to hear him. 

“Oh! Sorry about that. It was just closer to their towels, so I thought -”

“I’ve been here all day. Beach was empty when I arrived. People came and settled all around my towel but getting up to move my cooler closer was just too much effort.”

“All day? And you haven’t touched your cooler? You must be starving!” Sean said, eyeing that big round gut slowly rising and falling with each of the big man’s breaths. “Do you want me to pull it closer to you?”

The big man made the slightest motion of his eyes towards Sean, “If you’re offering,”

Sean got up and went to pull the big cooler by the handle a bit closer to the big man. He was caught off guard by how heavy the cooler was. “Woah! This has got to be a hundred pounds! What’s in this thing?”

“Food, mostly,” the big man said, lazily.

After a few moments of struggle, Sean succeeded in getting the cooler into motion and pulling it close to the big man, though Sean’s feet staggered on the big man’s towel, and he tripped backwards. Before he could twist around and throw his hands forward to break his fall, he collided with the man’s belly and bounced over the top of it like he was doing a trick in a bouncy house. 

“Oof! Sorry about that,” Sean exclaimed.

“You all right?” the big man asked, looking ever so casual and unconcerned. 

“Fine. How are you doing? Didn’t mean to collide with your gut that way”

“It’s all right. But if you’re looking to get close with this belly, you’re going about it the wrong way,” the big man sighed, gently moving his index finger upward to point at his face, without even lifting his arm, “the entrance is up here.”

Sean scraped the sand off of his knees, and looked at the big man’s face. The big man opened his mouth in a big yawn.

“Maybe your cooler wouldn’t weigh so much if you ate some of the food in there.”

“I would, but I’m so content to just lay here. Unmoving… and calm.”

“What, do you want me to feed some of it to you?” Sean said as he walked around the big man to open the cooler.

“Only if you wanted to,”

Sean looked down to see a dozen footlong sandwiches, nestled into one side next to a couple containers of fruit punch, a few gallon bags of pasta salad, twenty or so six-inch long churros, an ensemble of fruit kabobs, a tupperware filled with at least fifty homemade arepas, and some half-melted ice packs. “Who are you trying to feed here? You’ve got like a month's worth of groceries in here!”

“You think I can’t down all of that?”

Sean looked from the cooler to the man’s belly, “I think we’d be here all night if you did.”

The big man chuckled softly, and Sean watched his belly jiggle.

“I tell you what, why don’t you unwrap one of those sandwiches and feed it to me. After that, we’ll see if your opinions change.”

Sean smirked, turned back to the cooler, “Do you have any silverware? It’d be easier to cut the sandwich if I had a knife.”

“No. I’ll eat it whole.”

“Whole? Bud, this is a footlong?”

“And?”

Sean was bemused, but did as the big man wanted, unwrapping a sandwich, taking a seat on the edge of the big man’s towel and gently placing one end of the sandwich into the big man’s waiting maw. The big man casually engulfed the sandwich and Sean felt it slip quickly through his fingers and get sucked down into the big man’s belly. Sean’s eyes opened wide as he looked from the big belly to the man’s face. “How?! That sandwich has been sitting all day. It must have been dry as hell! Ain’t your throat all scratched up?”

“Actually it was fairly soggy, but ah well. Food is food.” After a moment the big man turned his eyes over to Sean who was transfixed by the big belly before him, “Is that it?”

Sean came back to reality, and nodded in admiration, unwrapping another sandwich, and watched it slide into the big man’s digestive abyss. And again and again, the act was done. Sean nibbled on an arepa himself, while dropping them one by one into the big man’s maw and watching them slide down so easily. Sean shook his head in admitted disbelief. He put his ear up to the big man’s belly and heard the raucous symphony of digestive juices getting to work on the already massive meal churning away in the big man’s gut.

“How did you get so big?” Sean asked as he poured some pasta salad into the man’s maw and watched it disappear without a trace down the man’s throat.

“Oh, you know, be lazy, eat big,” the big man said after a slow drawn out breath, while Sean turned to grab some churros, “Number one rule, never say no to willing food.”

“Like free food?”

“I’ll let you think on it,” he said with a great big yawn that stretched his chest and pulled his belly up into the air even more than it had protruded before.

“Is this your usual day at the beach? Waiting for some cute guy to feel bad for you and your hunger, and feed you all this food?”

“Hmm… not all the time… but I will admit guys have been eager to fill this gut before.”

“I’m honestly dumbfounded, I have never before seen anyone eat this much and still have room for more. And I’ve been to a buffet with my competitive eater friend as he broke some day long fast! I mean you’ve still got half of this cooler to go!” Sean said, pulling fruit off the kabobs and dropping them into the big man’s mouth.

The big man swallowed and said, “This cooler is nothing, I’ve eaten four times as much as that thing can hold.”

“Ooh, I’m calling bluff on that one, your stomach would explode!” Sean said, tilting a container of fruit punch into the big man’s mouth and listening to the great big gulps, and watching the lumps in the big man’s throat travel down and out of sight into the uncountable layers of fat. “How you haven’t exploded yet, I may never know. And how can you eat so much of something and not get sick of the same old flavor?”

“Well, avoid palette fatigue by bringing some variety to eat. And if you’ve got a lot of one kind of food, just swallow the whole lot in one go, and you won’t have that flavor on your tongue as long.”

“Swallow the whole lot? So you’re telling me you could swallow the last five footlong sandwiches in one go?” Sean said in amusement, then amended, “You know what, I bet you could.”

“You’re starting to get me,” the big man said, as his gut groaned and gurgled. Five unwrapped sandwiches later, Sean watched as the intense mass of food slid easily into the big man’s throat. The big man’s neck seemed to bulge easily, and his chest puffed out making way for the food to find a comfortable home inside the ballooning gut. Sean rubbed the big man’s gut, having to sit up for his eyeline to be higher than the belly was tall. Sean gently shook the big man’s stomach and marveled at the size, the rotundness, and at this moment, the loudness with which it was rumbling!

“A foodie like you must have the best opinions on food. What’s the best meal you’ve ever had?” Sean asked.

The big man thought for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the food churning in his gut, and the feel of the soft hands of a cute guy rubbing the outside of his belly. “My favorite meal… happened not too far from here. On this very beach maybe a kilometer down the sandbank.”

“Soggy cooler sandwiches are part of your favorite meal ever? Wow we are very different -”

“- I wasn’t finished… I once had a guy offer to feed me leftovers from his cooler. He didn’t think I could eat it all, so I bet him I could eat all of it and him too.”

“Him too? Oh my, you are a greedy big guy, aren’t you,” Sean joked, poking the big man’s gut.

“Hey, he offered. And as I said, never turn down willing food.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me you actually ate a guy?”

“Oh yeah, he was the best part,” the big man smiled contemplatively, “Never had someone so excited to become food, practically dove right down my throat and into my gut; it was like an internal massage.” The big man paused for a moment and all that could be heard were the crashing of the waves in the rising moonlight and the gurgling of his belly. “I continue to eat big to remember that little guy, make sure this big belly stays bigger and better just how he wanted it to.”

“Well then, it appears I have discovered the elusive land shark, just waiting for a meal to walk into his midst,” Sean joked, while feeding the last of the churros to the big man, and rubbing his gut more. Sean turned to the cooler and saw nothing was left but tupperware containers and freezer bags.

“No more food?”

“Nothing else in the cooler,” Sean scratched the big man’s belly, stood up, threw his leg over the side of it and pretended to sit on it like a seat, “everything made it into this great big gut of yours!” Sean fingered the big man’s belly button and realized all five of his fingers could nestle easily inside of it, “The rabbit hole goes deep!”

“Well, thanks for feeding me that food. I was wasting away over here,” the big man said, raising his arm for the first time the whole evening and giving his belly a hearty slap, causing ripples in his belly fat. There was a pause as they shared a smile and some eye contact.

“It’s getting late, I should probably head home, but it was nice to meet you, big guy,” Sean said, dismounting the big man’s belly, and turning his gaze away, “But hey if I see you and your cooler around, maybe we’ll do this again sometime.”

The big man sighed, “Happy to make your acquaintance. Hope you enjoyed the sunset,”

“Enjoyed more than that,” Sean said. He noticed the big man glance from his eyes down on his body for a moment. Sean then realized that his swim shorts were a little tighter than they were when he put them on. Perhaps he liked straddling that big man’s belly more than he thought.

They waved goodbye, and Sean started walking back up the sandy beach, thinking back on the night and feeling his heart beat faster as his excitement swelled in his brain and body.

The big man laid back for a few moments, and counted off in his head, “Three… two… one and three quarters…”

“So did you actually swallow that guy whole? Like one big gulp?” Sean asked, suddenly back at the big man’s side.

The big man, lazily opened his eyes and turned his head to meet Sean’s eyes, “One big gulp,” he said, nodding slightly.

“And then what… you digested him? A whole human body?”

The big man paused and sighed slowly, “You’ve been listening to my gut churn all day. What do you think it does with food?”

“And he enjoyed that?”

“For quite a while. I think he fell asleep at some point and… well, became part of my belly fat. Simple as that.”

“That’s crazy,” Sean said, turning to go again.

“Nothing crazy about the miracle of digestion. Simple science.”

Sean turned back again, and shoved his face suddenly into the big man’s belly. He listened to the churning and felt his heart beat through the thick layers of fat. He straightened up and took a deep breath and looked down at the big man’s face.

“Yes?” the big man sighed lazily.

“You probably ate like a hundred pounds already, there’s no way you could eat me, too.”

“I never said anything about eating you,” the big man said.

“But you couldn’t eat me - if you wanted - be for real,” Sean prodded.

The big man was tired of this foreplay, “I already know the answer to that. Do you want to find out?” The big man opened his mouth as if you yawn, but let it hang open in suspense.

Sean let out a little laugh, “No, I’m just joking… No,” he said, poking the big belly. “Who am I kidding, yes, I do, I want to go in there.” 

The big man closed his eyes lazily for a moment, but raised his eyebrows. Sean straddled the big belly once again, leaned forward to peer into the man’s face. The big man’s eyes fluttered open and gave a slight nod. Sean gripped the man’s belly for support, then tilted his head down to meet the big man’s open maw. He felt his hot breath on his facial hair tingle. Sean took a deep breath then felt his face engulfed by a warm, wet tongue, that pulled him invitingly forward, exploring his neck, then his nipples and chest. His head and squeezed tightly into the big man’s esophagus, and Sean felt his arms begin to pin down to his side and crush his chest a little bit. He felt his legs fall backward over the man’s big belly, and his torso tilted down at an angle from the big man’s belly to mouth as it was sucked forward deeper and deeper into the big man’s body. Sean’s hard on scraped against the big man’s belly until it was suspended in midair over the big man’s chest for a moment before being engulfed by the big man’s mouth and squeezed affectionately. Sean’s own belly squirmed with pleasure as the big scratchy tongue of the big man tickled his abdomen. Sean straightened out his feet in elation and his muscles seized, as he felt his head squeeze through a sphincter into the big man’s stomach. He still held his breath as his face was surrounded by a thick soup of digesting cooler food. 

The big man gently raised a hand to his gut and rubbed it slowly, feeling it stretch and gurgle like it had scarcely done since that day long ago at this very beach, when the other had slid down into his belly. He tasted Sean’s skin and noted its salt flavor, from sweat and ocean water combined, and he felt his body yearn for a drink, enticing him to swallow faster and more hungrily. He felt Sean squirm his torso inside his throat, and pull himself deeper into his belly. He lazily opened his eyes to watch Sean’s legs flip about in the air, brushing against his belly and flinging some sand into the air. He felt a soft pressure in the middle of his chest, and realized that Sean was pulling his arms and hands down further into his stomach. Sean pushed against the big man’s insides with his hands, not to prevent himself from sinking deeper inside, but to pull his torso and legs into the big man’s stomach even faster. The big man felt the pressure in his throat ease and his stomach relaxed to make more room as Sean’s legs slipped down his throat. He tasted the scratchy sand clinging to Sean’s hairy calves, and swallowed hard to pull the rest of Sean in quickly.

Sean felt his toes pass from the cool night air into the hot, salivating throat of the big man, and took a deep breath as his face surfaced into an air pocket at the top of the big man’s stomach. He squirmed as the last of his legs passed smoothly through the big man’s throat and into the soup of so many meals churning at once. Once his entire body was encased by stomach walls and digestive soup, Sean curled his legs underneath him and rested his body against the mass of fat surrounding him. Both the big man and Sean took deep breaths and gained their composure. Sean felt the hot liquid around him and imagined he was in the most exclusive hot tub in the world. Fortunately the immense supper that had preceded his own body becoming food masked the scent of digestive juices, so he enjoyed the unique fruit punch with a hint of sweat aroma. He felt the big man’s stomach kneading against his legs and chest, and above his head. His enclosure seemed to shrink a little bit, like the stomach was giving him a strange hug, willing him to give himself over and become belly fat.

After a long pause, the big man drew breath and spoke, “You still with us there, bud?”

“Yeah! Don’t think I’ll ever not be,” Sean joked.

“How are you feeling, then?”

“Like a piece of meat! But in a good way…”

The big man shrugged with his eyes, “In a way you kind of are… Well, relax, eat a churro, and enjoy the ride.”

“I already did! Can’t believe you actually did it! You weren’t kidding.”

“I never do… I never do.”

[esamastation]

Part thirty-five of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four

-

Well, Sephiroth seems to be in a better mood than yesterday. Maybe he was just coming down from his… whatever it was that happened in the training room. Angeal still isn't entirely sure. Though the Turks had debriefed him and even showed him a video, it didn't make that much sense. Especially with the blood vomiting. Which Angeal still isn't entirely over, either.

But Sephiroth seems, while still not quite himself, at least cheered up. He'd relaxed in increments during their walk into the woods, and the change of environment - or most likely, leaving the camp and its staring occupants behind - made him a little less closed off.

"This place is so alive," Sephiroth comments, peering up at the leaf canopy above then. "The air is so fresh."

"Mmhmm," Angeal smiles. "A welcome change from Midgar, huh?"

From the way he's looking around them, carefully taking in everything, Sephiroth can't remember much of anything about Wutai either - it's all new to him. Seeing his fascination kind of makes Angeal want to see his take on Mideel. Or, hell, Gongaga. Sephiroth would be very entertained by the local wildlife there, going by his reactions now.

"What is this thing?" Sephiroth asks, holding up what looks like a fistful of long grass. It wiggles in his hold, little legs kicking at the air.

"Razor Weed - I think the locals call it Leg-Cutting Grass," Angeal says, leaning in to watch the spiky beast wiggling in Sephiroth's grip. "They're pretty common and can deflate truck tires."

Sephiroth turns the little monster this way and that while it makes angry noises at him. "I bet. It's it a plant or an animal?"

"Uh. I don't actually know?" Angeal offers and gives him a look. "Someone back at the camp might. All I know is that they're annoying to fight."

Sephiroth hums, considering the weed, testing the blades sticking out of its head. He seems to struggle with something before sighing. "I can't kill it, it's too cute." He sounds almost disappointed. 

"... It's just a monster?" Angeal says, giving him a weird look. "I've seen men almost lose their legs, stepping into these things."

"Sounds like their own fault," Sephiroth says and crouches down to let the angry weed go. "Off you go, little buddy."

The Razor Weed answers by trying to attack him with its grass blades, all but lunging at him. Sephiroth just snorts and flicks it into the forest with his finger. "Cute," he concludes.

Angeal scratches at the back of his head. Though low-level mobs aren't really that big of a deal, still… "We're supposed to be, ah, weeding the monster population here, you know. That includes Razor Weeds."

"It's just a little grass thing," Sephiroth says. "It barely reaches your knee!"

"They're a menace and can cast spells," Angeal points out. "Your usual Infantry troopers can barely -"

"They cast spells?" Sephiroth asks, fascinated, and stands up, looking around interestedly. "I want to see that! Let's go find another."

Oh, boy. Running a hand through his hair, Angeal hurries after him. Well, it's… a novel experience, seeing Sephiroth of all people so excited about something. And of course it would be monsters. Usually Sephiroth is more interested in fighting monsters rather than just observing them, though, but it's still a definite improvement to his mood from yesterday. Even if it's because of weeds.

That changes when they get surrounded by about half a dozen of the little monsters.

"Still cute?" Angeal asks, fending two of them off with the flat of the Buster Sword's blade.

Apparently, yes, going by the glow in Sephiroth's eyes. "Don't kill them yet, I want to see some spells!" The man - the maniac - says, using still sheathed Masamune to push the monsters back.

"You know, as much as I appreciate your scientific curiosity, these things can actually do some damage in bigger groups, you know!" Angeal calls to him.

"Yeah, yeah," Sephiroth answers, flippantly. "So what do we need to do to make them cast spells?"

One of the Razor Weeds answers for him - by casting a Magic Hammer on Sephiroth. Which, Angeal is pretty sure, Sephiroth just lets it happen! Thankfully it's not a physical attack - Magic Hammer hits you in the MP - though, looking at Sephiroth's reaction…

"Oh, you little Qi-stealing bastard," Sephiroth says, and that's that for the Razor Weeds.

"... Uh," Angeal says, while the Razor Weeds fall over, mowed down like so much grass, and Sephiroth stands over them looking very hurt and disappointed. Angeal clears his throat, trying to bite back a smile. "So. What did we learn?"

Sephiroth rubs at his stomach, and gives him a flat look. "Yeah, haha, rub it in," he mutters and then, "Oh, hey, they left the remains behind!"

"... Most things do when you kill them, yes," Angeal agrees and looks at him interestedly. "So, you remember Mako monsters?"

Sephiroth is crouching again, examining the dead Razor Weeds. "Mm?" 

"Monsters that converge around Mako concentrations," Angeal explains, hoisting Buster Sword back to his back. "You… don't remember?"

"Uh. I remember that some things just sort of… disperse instead of leaving anything physical?" Sephiroth asks, sounding rather hopeful. "Is that a thing, or…?"

"It's a thing - Mako monsters. They're attracted to Mako, they are common around reactors and natural Mako pools - so people call them Mako monsters," Angeal explains. "The slums under Midgar are full of them. They're kind of like more physical ghosts, I think."

"... Huh," Sephiroth hums, and pokes at the dead Razor Weeds. "So monsters around here…?"

"Mostly physical," Angeal agrees. "I think there are some natural Mako springs around here, so there might be Mako monsters too… but I haven't seen any personally."

"Hmmm," Sephiroth hums and stands up. "That is fascinating."

"It sure is," Angeal laughs, because it really isn't, not to him, but Sephiroth has always been a bit weird. "Shall we continue? There's many more monsters to see."

"Yes, let's."

"... And get hit by," Angeal adds and looks at Sephiroth. "Actually, are you going to let all of them get a hit in? Because if you are, I'd like to know ahead of time, just in case I need to have a Remedy in hand."

"I'm not going to let myself get hit again," Sephiroth says, primly. "I wouldn't have, if I realised what it was going to do."

"... Okay. Good." Angeal nods. "There are better ways to figure out your opponents' skillsets, anyway. Or you can just let them do their thing but get out of the way before it hits."

"Right, of course, that's something you can do," Sephiroth says, sheepish, and clears his throat. "I knew that."

Angeal gets a Remedy out, just in case.

-

SY, thinking FF7: ... Oh right, turn based combat isn't actually a thing.

[xer-melody]

Rookie

Cullen family x adopted!human!male reader(!platonic!)

Warning: hurt/comfort, three original characters, readers friend sucking, a potential new friend tho, swearing, fighting, blood, getting arrested, mostly Carlisle centered.

Words: 2364

Summary: Y/n Cullen wants to tryout for the Baseball team

(A/n: I’d just like to say fuck Stephanie Meyers. Also this is my first request fill so yay!)

Request by anonymous : Cullen family x adopted!human!male reader hurt/comfort(?) where R wants to try out for the school baseball team, but his friends have little faith in him so he starts to self-doubt. So the rest of the Cullens help their youngest sibling practice and he eventually gets on the team. :)

The Forks High School baseball team had just lost a player. Well, not ‘lost’ but he decided that he'd rather play basketball instead, leaving an open spot on the team just a month and a half before baseball season. And you decided to fill that spot. Last season, tryouts had filled up quicker than anyone could have possibly thought they would, but the entirety of the old team was graduating that year, so with twenty-six spots open, people -most not even knowing how to play- flooded the coach in applications. And in an attempt at management, a team was hastily picked and tryouts were closed before you even got a chance.

While that first season was beyond painful to watch, they've gotten better over the last year, way better.

Ronan leaving the baseball team was, for the most part, a secret, at least for the time being. But he knew you liked to play, so he told you, and while you weren't friends with Ronan, you're glad you were the first he considered to take his spot.

That same day, in between classes, you practically ran to the coach's office and asked for an application.

Turns out applications had changed a bit from last year. Considering the fiasco that was the previous tryouts, he'd made it a bit harder to join. Instead of applications being a simple one-page, name-birthday-signature ordeal like it had been for years, it's become a ten page contract.

‘To weed out the fakers’ he said.

Now you were sitting in the schoolyard on the second to last step of the bleachers, half watching the team practice, half trying to fill out this seemingly never ending application.

“‘Have you ever broken a bone?’ no..” you muttered to yourself, checking off another box among dozens of other tiny boxes.

While the questions weren't particularly hard, there were hundreds of them. And you understood why but goddamnit this used to be so simple.

Leaning back against the beaches you watched as the eighth inning began, short words were exchanged between members as they switched spot, the catcher, a guy named Thomas, let out a playfully excruciating yell as he stood from his squating position for the first time nearly 20 minutes, his teammates laughed, and you let out a small chuckle along with them before returning your attention to the application.

‘Do you have siblings? If so, how many?’ was the next question on the packet.

Another filler question, as many had been, only maybe 20 of the questions retained to your health, or your ability to play.

A few minutes later and you were still answering questions, but kept a mental score of of who did what and how much longer until the ninth inning.

A few more minutes passed and you were nearly done, just a page and a half to go. You could get that done before practice was even over. You clicked your pen as you tried to think when was the last time you went to a doctor that wasn’t Carlisle.

Then, without warning, the application was pulled from your hands.

Looking up you saw the sudo captain of the Forks Baseball team, Apollo, who you only really knew two things about, both his parents were Greek mythology nuts, and despite baseball teams not technically having a captain, he was the captain. He dragged the team out of the mud by himself, and then proceeded to knock every game of the season out of the park.

And for a reason you couldn’t comprehend, he smiled down at you after quickly glancing over your application.

“You joining the team?” He asked, slightly out of breath (he ran across the field to talk to you).

“I’m going to try..” you responded quickly.

He chuckled, leaning up against the fence separating the two of you he said, “That’s good, we need someone like you-” he passed the application back, “You’ve been at basically every practice and game this team has ever had, won’t take you long to get the hang of things.”

“I play with my siblings all the time, playing on this team shouldn’t be too hard..”

At that, his smile widened.

“You’re confident, I like that. Can’t wait to have you on the team..”

He turned as the current right-fielder called him over.

“I expect you to see you at tryouts- on time, alright Cullen?”

“Alright..”

“Have you lost you’re goddamn mind!” Your self proclaimed ‘best-friend’, Jamison shouted.

You felt like your eardrum was going to burst if he kept yelling in your ear like that. You were driving him home and chatting when the topic of baseball came up, while he wasn’t too much of a fan, his older brother was on the baseball team. The moment you told him you were trying out he blew up.

“Maybe the rest of your siblings might stand a chance but come on Y/n, be realistic for a moment.”

“I am, I’ve been playing for years, I'm pretty sure I can make the team.”

He groaned, rubbing his hand down his face in frustration,

“Dude, the entire team is getting full ride scholarships, you can’t just come in and fuck that up!”

Stopping at a red light you turned to face him, “Who says I’m going to fuck it up?”

“Just..” he groaned again, “You’re not as good as them man.”

“You’ve never seen me play.”

“Still, just think about it playing with your siblings is different, they go easy on you because they don’t want to hurt your feelings, other teams won’t give a shit about you or your feelings!”

The light turned green and you moved your foot from the breaks to the gas, thinking just how wrong he was. This asshole had never seen you play, he didn’t even know anything about the sport and he was trying to tell you that you’d bring the team down.

“Whatever man,” You muttered.

You tried to ignore his words as best as you could, but such heavy doubt coming from one of your closest friends stung. Tapping your finger against the steering wheel, you breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm the anger that was slowly bubbling under your skin.

“Y/n, I love you man, but don’t do this, you’re good at…stuff, but not this. Just let somebody else try.”

You sighed, slamming your foot on the breaks, making Jamison jerk forward, nearly slamming his head on the dash board. You looked at your rear view mirror, no cars as far as you could see, you look forward, no cars. Then, as though the past three years of friendship meant nothing, you said,

“Get out.”

“What?”

“You heard me, get out of my car.”

He scoffed, sitting back in his seat, “Are you serious?”

After a second of silence he got out of the car.

And you got out right after him.

The familiar smell of human blood traveled through the Cullens’ home, followed by your scent, followed by Charlie’s.

Four loud knocks echoed through the quiet house, all were hesitant to move. But Carlisle, being the closest to the door, moved to open it.

Behind it he found a very irritated Charlie who was holding your arm behind your back. Blood ran from your nose all the way down to your chin, but other than that you seemed mostly unharmed.

Charlie gave a quick glance to you, then back to Carlisle.

“Found him fighting some kid in the middle of the road.” He said, sounding almost as disappointed as Carlisle felt.

You refused to met your fathers eyes. You have never disappointed him before, not in this way at least. You knew that fighting Jamison would lead to you getting in trouble with Carlisle eventually, you imagined every scenario as you rode home in the back of Charlie's car, but Carlisle crushing gaze of disappointment was harder to face than anything you could have imagined

You tuned out their conversation, but never missed the looks Carlisle would give you every so often, disappointment and worry clear on his face.

You didn’t move until you felt your fathers hand on your shoulder, pulling you into the house.

You heard something along the line of “don’t do it again” from Charlie and then the front door closing behind you.

Now you were facing the entire Cullen family, your family, as they swarmed you with questions. Questions you really didn’t want to answer, not now anyways. So, the moment you found an opening, you slid passed them and up the stairs. While any of them could have stopped you at any moment, they didn’t, instead watching as you climbed the stair and disappeared behind the wall, a second later they heard your door slam shut.

Laying on your bed, armed crossed over your chest, glaring at the ceiling above you, irritation coming off of you in waves as the fight replayed in you mind. You kicked his ass but he got a single good shot at you and it was with a rock, not even with his own fist the fucking coward. What kind of person throw stones?

You groaned in frustration, you should have put his ass to the goddamn hospital, maybe that would have given him some time to figure out how to not be a total dick!

You don't know how long you sat there stewing in your own frustration, but someone did eventually come to check on you. You heard the knocks, still you hesitated to get up. You didn't feel like talking, or explaining yourself. You did what you did and that was final.

But, then your father's soothing voice called for you and all the stubbornness you'd been harboring to avoid persecution slipped away.

Pushing yourself up and out of bed you walked to the door, and were met by Carlisle's no longer disappointed face, now replaced by worry.

He sighed before he spoke, grabbing your face and examining your still-bleeding nose.

A moment later you were both sat on your bed as he prodded your nose, tissue held to your nose as he asked you.

“Does this hurt?”

“No.”

He moved to another spot.

“What about this?”

“No.”

He sighed again.

“It's not broken, are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No.”

With that he sat back.

“So are you going to tell me why you fought Jamison, I thought he was your best friend?”

“He was,” Groaning, you said, “until today!”

Falling back onto the bed with a huff, letting your legs dangle off the edge.

“Do you remember what happened last year? With the tryout for the baseball team?”

“Yes, you said they were over before they even started, why?”

“One of the members of the baseball team dropped out, and he specifically asked me to try out and take his place.”

Carlisle smiled, but it faded quickly once he saw the hurt expression on your face.

“That's a good thing, isn't it?”

His words only frustrated you more. not with him, but with your so-called best friend, “It is! But when I told Jamison, he blew up on me- told me I'd only bring the team down. Then he told me to not even try because he thinks I'll fuck up their scholarship.”

“Sorry, I just-” you sighed, “it's just so stressful- I don't know if I even want to join the team anymore. I don't even know if I could! I went through all that trouble with applying and I don't know if they’d even let me on.”

Another sigh left Carlisle. Without saying a word he wrapped his arms around you, his cold embrace comforting beyond anything else. You huffed, irritation and betrayal still scorched through your vein but this lessened it.

A moment passes and you mutter, “thanks dad..”

“It’s alright son..” after a moment he continued, “never take advice from someone who doesn’t have your best interest in mind. As your father, I have nothing but your best interest in mind, so I'll tell you this-”

He pulled back for a second, looking down at you, a small smile on his face.

“Try out for the team, you've played with vampires, I'm sure a group of human boys will be more than impressed with your skills.”

With another sigh you held back a grin, your mood- and your heart- feeling tons lighter.

“Well if you insist, I guess I'll have to-”

And then your door was slammed open, the entire Cullen clan standing behind it, except for Emmett, who'd accidentally pushed the door open by pushing his body weight against it while your siblings were violently eavesdropping.

“…surprise?” Alice tried, holding up a metal bat as both a peace offering and mild defense.

“We were just uh-” Emmett started, but fell short.

“-going to help you practice…for your tryout.” Belle finished smoothly- well as smoothly as she could with a speech pattern as unconventional as hers.

With a wide grin Alice tossed the bat at you, you caught it seamlessly, having done it thousands of times over the years.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Tryouts were over. You were laid out on the dirt, which you were also covered in, the other attendees were in similar positions. Though some were closer to passing out from exhaustion than others. You, on the other hand, we’re just enjoying the sunshine and the breeze after a surprisingly tame tryout.

You closed your eyes, taking in your surroundings with your other sense, the most prominent of which was you potential competition gasping for air just a few feet away.

“You’re not even tired?” A familiar voice said.

Opening your eyes, you saw Apollo, nearly blocking out the sun.

“Not really.”

He let out a short laugh, looking over at the rest of the candidates with his hands on his hips.

“Well, shit- ain’t that something.”

He kneeled down next to you.

“So coach is the one who usually makes these calls with who gets picked after tryout, but you know what I’m pretty damn sure it’s gonna be you.”

“Really?”

“Really, I’ll see you at our next practice-“ then, unexpectedly he whipped his baseball cap off and tossed it onto your face, “-rookie.”

[sweetbottletops]

Aya has been invested in Uncle Joe and Kanna's relationship since Kanna appeared on the scene. "How nice..." they are openly comfortable with each other and flirting like that. That's what she wants and she knows who she wants it with. I am detecting forward movement.

ch 75

Guilt about yeeting Koga down the stairs has multiplied into guilt about secretly...enjoying taking care of her afterwards.

Meanwhile Koga just thinks she's wonderful and has since like a half dozen chapters in.

Chibi Aya as the attentive girlfriend.

Someone put her out of her misery (by communicating their feelings).

Kanna has been super into reminding Joe at every turn that *Koga has Aya* whenever his guardian separation anxiety surfaces.

Maybe it's not fair that Kanna jumps back in after six years to co-parent, but she's using her fresh appraisal of the situation vs Joe being in the trenches for years watching Koga go through things.

Her reintro to Koga was when she was acting her coolest with Aya at the concert. Koga got a clean slate from her gloomy years with Kanna and even if she still has problems she deserves to keep moving forward too.

Aya being a touch envious of their open flirting is so interesting to me. As far as we know she has a mom who is affirming of her interests (and what she's seen of Koga) and her dad seems sweet too. She's not short of normal relationship examples. But Aya is extremely imprinting onto their messy, non-traditional on/off relationship.

A wild Koga appears! How long was Aya spaced out looking at them anyway? Maybe Koga has gotten really quick at putting her Onii-san look back on. LOL

Add another mystery shirt to to Koga's collection. (fyi, in the course of my search through cursive letter interpretations... I learned one should never google "futaboy")

Aya has gone through several realizations about still feeling a kinda away about Koga in all her states. Her teasing back to Onii-san in the context of a relationship she wants... it only lasted a split second before she chickens out, but it did not go unnoticed by the others in the room.

Tiny Uncle Joe is matched with Tiny Kanna finally. The complete set.

The fact Aya referred back to the "Onii-san" she was interested in, but in the context of current Koga... I feel like she's just about there.

So in the order of everyone involved: Aya knows, Kanna knows, Joe probably suspects, and Koga isn't going seem to know until she suddenly is moved in with a fridge in tow.

[infiniteeight8]

Ironstrange prompt: reincarnation or isekai?

I went with reincarnation because, considering everything Tony and Stephen have been through, isekai felt a bit like Just Another Tuesday. LOL. Although maybe if I could think of a different enough world, maybe with another version of them in it to meet… hmmm…

Well, reincarnation this time.

-

Tony spent most of his life assuming that reincarnation was bullshit. He also spent most of his life believing that magic was bullshit, and now he’s met what feels like half a dozen wizards of one type or another. Most of them he avoids as much as he can, no matter how often he’s told they’ve “changed”.

But Stephen… 

From the moment they meet, Stephen feels familiar. Tony finds himself trusting him despite the fact that he’s a wizard. Despite the fact that he’s a stranger. Despite the fact that experience has taught Tony that other heroes are only going to abandon him, one way or another. Despite all of that, being around Stephen feels like being around Rhodey. Solid, like there’s years of trust and history there. 

It niggles at him until he bursts into the Sanctum one day and, finding Stephen in the library, says, “Okay, level with me. Did we know each other in another life or what?”

Stephen almost drops the book he’d been taking off a shelf. He turns and stares at Tony. “How did you know?”

Vindication rushes through Tony. “Gut feeling,” he says smugly. “So? What were we to each other?”

“If I tell you—” he starts.

“It might not happen?” Tony finishes. “Bullshit. Besides, that reaction already tells me we were probably lovers.”

Stephen actually looks flustered now, which is kind of awesome because he’s normally as cool as a cucumber. “I don’t expect anything,” he says. “Our past lives don’t have to define this one.” He drops his gaze to the book he’s holding, his shoulders slumping slightly.

Tony sighs. Stephen is a thinker, like Tony is. But where Tony jumps six or seven steps ahead and sometimes regrets it, Stephen follows every little twist and turn and sometimes gets lost there. “You’ve got it all mixed up in your head, don’t you?” Tony says. “Here. Let me simplify things.”

He pulls Stephen into a kiss. The book falls with a thump and Stephen’s arms are sliding around him, his lips parting for a deeper caress. Tony can feel their hearts pounding in sync. This kiss feels right in a way that nothing ever has before.

When they part, Stephen smiles at him. “Somehow, despite all our previous lives, you still surprise me.”

Tony chuckles. “Well, a cheat sheet only gets you so far,” he says. “Previous work is there to be built upon.”

“We best get started, then,” Stephen murmurs, and pulls him into another kiss.

-

Me starting: This one is going to be under 300 words! I can feel it!

Me finishing: Whoops…

[ravencincaide]

Oh Sweet Memory of Mine 

Summary: Dazai basks in your bright smile even if tomorrow you won’t remember a thing. OR a walking red flag will always be a walking red flag- even when he tries to be sweet.

Pairing: fem!Reader x Dazai Osamu

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 14: (Back) scratching

Warnings: Dark content inside including things like; cursing, blood, biting and fighting, early onset of memory degenerative disease, a walking red flag with very light hints at intimacy and abuse, 

Enjoy ?

___________________________________________________________

The flowers were as ridiculous as his behaviour.  

A huge rather unorganized bunch consisting of carnations, roses, tulips and lilies– pretty much any and every flowering blossom he could get his hands on at this time of year. They were accompanied with some nameless greenery awkwardly stuffed in between. Dazai was beginning to regret buying said greenery- the stems were hard and awkward to carry, the shrubs almost painfully digging into his bandaged fingers. And while he didn’t mind the pain- relished in it- he was adamant not to let you get pricked by them. 

Still you insisted each bouquet was not complete without some filler leaves to guide the eye or a branch to give it more asymmetrical volume. No, rationally Dazai knew it was best he bought the shrubs directly instead of having to run out to the store to get them. Even if at that moment he wasn’t particularly fond of them. 

Looking from the outside however, that was impossible to tell. If anything, Dazai appeared almost happy; a skip in his step then a playful twirl as he sidestepped a flirtatious butterfly of the night. Then paused, took her hand and brought it to his lips, giving it a kiss of apology. “ You’re so gorgeous today. But not now unfortunately- another time maybe, Belladonna” he winked then off on his way he was, not stopping once until he reached a gated community on the very outskirts of the city. 

The walls were high: an almost unscalable construction of sanded down brick and barbed wire on top. The entrance was also the only exit, a large anglo saxon metallic gate with both an old fashioned knocking mechanism and modern keycode with intercom. Balancing the box of wine on his knee and gripping onto the flowers with his other hand, Dazai put in the code. The sound of electricity buzzing echoed before a click could be heard. Hopping on one foot he leaned his weight into the left side of the gate, making it swing open with surprising ease. He caught himself from stumbling, eyes whining for a brief second. Then he chuckled and shook his head at himself. Of course they would finally oil the hinges after six months of complaints- and not a day too soon. 

Turning his back to the gate Dazai drew in a deep breath, his nose stinging with familiar dust and grime of Yokohama from ten years ago. The smell of food stalls, traders and alcohol reached his senses. He could hear the yelling; orders called out in a ramen stand, men laughing at the others' jokes, merchants pushing over-priced tinkets onto naive customers and women bargaining with each other over the cost of overripe fruit. The only thing missing were children: homeless brats pickpocketing passers by or vandalizing houses. Despite how big of an issue this used to be, at that very moment, there wasn’t a single kid in sight. 

It was almost amazing how they managed to replicate the Yokohama of ten years ago. Down to the chipped paint on buildings and gravel filled holes in the ground.

Feeling eyes on him, Dazai turned his head to the right, in the direction of a set of benches where half a dozen men sat, dressed in worn out suit pants, white shirts and with the matching suit coat thrown haphazardly over their shoulders. A distance away from them was a small stall serving local sake. The man from said stall had his attention on Dazai. Dazai flashed a smile at the man, as if to say that he was fine and didn’t need the man's help. The man in turn rolled his eyes and turned back to his duties: watching this group of young men on the benches throwing rocks and dealing cards as if it were dead serious poker. Then as one of the men won, the others started yelling at him: their hands darting to the inside of their coat pockets- typical mannerism of someone reaching for a gun. 

“ You dare cheat the port mafia? That’s it I’ve got you red handed now and I’m bringing you in!” the man yelled. The temper quickly rose in the group. Surely a fight would break out at any second. 

“Port Mafia?!” The cheater questioned before he smirked and nodded, looking at ease “ Ahh yes Nakahara-san is such a good executive.” 

“ The very best!” The others agreed in unison before settling back down and beginning to deal the cards and rocks again. Acting as if nothing had happened- back to silently studying the other men in the circle. Reading their body language and clues about one another. 

Information gathering at its finest. 

Turning his back to them, Dazai barely made it two steps before he heard the man yell again;“ You dare cheat the port mafia? That’s it I’ve got you red handed now and I’m bringing you in!”

This time however he did not spare them a second glance. No, his feet began carrying him further inside this replica of the once familiar city. His body knowing where to take him without his mind needing to think- after all he had walked that same road more times than he could count. Past the Port Mafia base, round the corner from the old ADA office and then to the obscured apartment complex at the very edge, inches away from the park. Through that park was the Yokohama river- a perfect place for sunny dates and late night swims. 

It was a shame the wall cut off this place half way through the park- he would have liked to see the government replicating an entire river. Seeing them panicking and scratching their heads in fear as the engineers and economists screamed at one another from the opposite sides of the room simply because one sheet of seemingly meaningless paper was covered in faulty edits. 

Edits that Dazai may or may not have been responsible for. 

Coming up to the apartment door, Dazai balanced his purchased gifts with the help of his leg while he dug in his pocket for a set of keys. Pulling out an old fashioned, worn down tag with the large key attached to it, he pushed it into the lock of the door. He turned it once, twice and then when it wouldn’t turn anymore he pulled it out and swung the door opened.

“ My dear, I’m home~” Dazai yelled out, dancing inside and kicking the door shut behind himself. The smell of herbal tea and freshly baked cookies filled his senses. The familiar smell made his grin wider, yet somehow the smile did not quite reach his eyes anymore. 

“ Oh love, you’re already home?”

 He followed the sound of your voice to the kitchen where you stood above the newly baked treats, with a cute little white apron om. Your shaking hands gripped a piping bag full of cream frosting. It seems you were trying to outline the baked out snowflake cookies to make them more festive. The sight made him chuckle slightly as he set down his gifts on the floor before he waved the huge bouquet of flowers back and forth. “ Tada! I thought it’s been a while since you arranged some, right Y/N?” 

“ Oh my love you got me flowers! “ You exclaimed, clasping your hands together in glee, after having tossed your current project to the side. The bag of frosting found its way back into the bowl with the rest of the fluffy mixture from which it came- but just barely. But you didn’t care about it one bit.  “ Dazai, they’re beautiful” you exclaimed, reaching out to take the bouquet from him. You buried your face in it, inhaling deeply the fresh sweet smell before looking back up at your lover. “ Help me arrange them?” 

Dazai chuckled a little and reached his hand out, his thumb and finger wiping off the bright orange specks of pollen off the tip of your nose. You giggled sheepishly at him, your heart soaring from happiness. Dazai moved over and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder. “ hmm in a moment” he hummed his nose buried in the crook of your neck. 

You laughed again before laying the flowers out beside your baked goods. You studied each and every blossom, leaf and branch Dazai gifted you with. Your mind begins to envision one- no two different designs you could create. You were so engrossed in the task you almost missed Dazai’s hands playing with the edge of your shirt. Almost. 

“ H-hey Dazai?” You stuttered your face a dark tomato red. One of your hands reached up and grasped his hand in your own, interlocking your fingers together so he’d stop trying to undress you. Still his long fingers reached for your skin, his nails scratching at your clothes, your waist, your stomach and your back. Anywhere those long appendages could reach. His lips were more passionate on your neck, making you shiver under him. Your body grew warm with desire. The way his lips lingered over your pulse, his hot tongue on your skin– it drove you a little mad.  You felt nervous and perhaps a little embarrassed; it was not even noon yet and all the windows in your apartment were wide opened and- you cut your trail of thought off as you felt him lick at your skin more desperately now. 

You shivered again, biting your lip to prevent a needy moan from escaping. As he nipped at your neck, you blushed a darker shade of red. “D-Dazai,--” you swallowed and gripped his hand tighter “ I– ehh we should put the flowers in water before–” you gasped, your eyes widening

The desire and burning need was replaced by icy dread as you heard a quiet pop; the soft skin giving away to his sharp fangs.

Your cry broke the silence of the apartment; a blood curling scream as your mind registered what was happening. What your so-called lover was. A blood-sucking beast! A goddamn vampire of all things. The very thing you hated the most in this damned world. Before you could say anything Dazai shifted, his free hand reaching up and clasping over your lips muffling your cries. Your struggles- a pitiful attempt at fighting back against him- were easily fought off.

 Dazai pushed you forward-- one knee wedged between your legs, while his weight pushed you up against the counter; one hand over your mouth, one hand clasping your interlocked fingers in his own. Not letting go no matter how much you pulled, trashed or tugged. Your non dominant hand was free and you did your best to pry him off your neck. But it was completely futile. 

He was stronger- as a man and as a beast. 

The sound of gulping filled the room. An eager sucking sound that drained your very lifeforce right out of you. You bit at the hand on your mouth- expecting him to pull it away from you. Instead Dazai moaned against your neck, his knee pressing harder between your legs. You felt burning in your eyes as tears ran down your face. Your heart tearing itself apart at the knowledge that the man you loved more than life itself was nothing but a blood sucking demon. 

The very definition of an abomination! 

Once more you tried to struggle- to resist and fight back. You bit harder at his hand on your face and felt him tighten it- bruising you- a warning to behave or he’d snap your jaw in half. You could feel the ache in your face and had no doubt that he’d do it without blinking an eye. It made you freeze in fear and betrayal. How could the man you love do this to you? 

You felt weak; weaker and weaker for every clunk he took until you no longer had the energy to fight back. You slumped against him, dark dots playing in your vision. Was he going to kill you? 

No. 

Dazai detached himself from your neck and licked at the wound like a dog. It made you shiver again- this time in disgust rather than affection and desire. His hand dropped away from your face and landed on your waist, squeezing tightly. “ See Y/N it wasn't so bad, now was it?” he purred with an all too pleased smirk. 

“ I fucking hate you, you bastard” you hissed as you felt the room sway. His knee between your legs being the only thing keeping you up. 

“ Sure you do my love, sure you do” Dazai taunted before he let go of your hand and moved his knee back quickly. You stumbled, your legs giving out from you. Before you could crash to the floor completely he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and under your knees, picking you up bridal style. His eyes staring down at your own, watching with boredom, as your expression slowly changes; the emotions of hate, betrayal and anger dulled away into a blank expression. 

Then he began carrying out of the kitchen, going exceptionally slow. 

After a few moments he felt you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder, a drained  expression on your face, your voice hazy with sleep: “ Oh my love, you got me flowers.” 

Dazai hummed and pressed a kiss to your cheek, leaving a dark red bloody print of his lips on your pale skin. He continued moving towards your bedroom. Some days it broke him that your mind was too damaged to make new memories- forever stuck in that same last safe moment you experienced ten years ago. Other days however it came in handy. 

After all, no matter what he did to you, you would always forget all about it by morning. 

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hi Aerie, mer roadtrip please?

WIP Wednesday (9/11) | Mer Roadtrip AU (Part 63)

Andrew leads them deeper into the store to stand in the back corner where his bare feet will hopefully not be a problem. He’s almost overwhelmed with all the options surrounding him but he finally starts flipping through a rack of tops. After a half dozen, he stops abruptly.

Andrew gestures to Abram's bag. "How many outfits have you got in there?"

"Uh, eight. Six t-shirts, two long-sleeved ones, four pairs of shorts, two jeans, and two sweatpants," Abram recites, then he breathes and adds, "Plus ten pairs of underwear and socks."

Andrew locks that information into his mind and nods before continuing to rifle through clothing displays. Twenty minutes later, he's walking out of the store with eight t-shirts and a set of black and white striped armbands. They're not his first choice, but they're better than the stripes that are currently occupying his forearms. 

Next, the two of them head into another shop where Andrew grabs several pairs of jeans, a couple cargo shorts, and a couple sweatpants. He also selects a couple packs of underwear and socks. Then they're off to find shoes. Andrew ends up with two pairs, which makes Abram grimace. Just to be contrary, Andrew grabs a pair of sandals as well and waves them around triumphantly.

"Aren't you going to get yourself some shoes?" Andrew asks, nodding down at Abram's pathetic sneakers.

"No, I don't need—"

"Bullshit. Get some goddamn shoes or I'll do it. And I don't know even your size. I'll just buy some useless ones and make you cart them around in your bag." Andrew threatens, making Abram's expression pinch up. Andrew sighs. "Listen. I know I'm blowing all your money, but you need shoes. How can you run away without good shoes?"

After a moment of worrying his bottom lip, Abram wanders off towards the sneakers and comes back a few minutes later with a shitty, cheap pair that will disintegrate before they get out of the store. Andrew shakes his head.

"Try again. Look for some that aren't made of tissue paper and chewed gum. I'll wait here."

Abram huffs, an angry little sound, and disappears again. While he’s gone, Andrew goes to sit down on a small bench. After scuffing his disgustingly gritty feet on the carpet, he slips the sandals on and stands back up. Much better. Andrew starts to hide the price tag among some shoe boxes, but Abram pops up beside him and stops him by snatching it out of Andrew’s hand.

“Don’t shoplift.” Abram says lowly, glancing side to side for witnesses. “We’re a pair of unaccompanied teenagers, with no one to bail us out. It sucks to pay,” he glances down at the price and grimaces, “thirty dollars for a pair of flip flops, but I would rather pay with money than jail time.”

“Fine, goody two shoes,” Andrew scoffs. Then he notices the sneakers Abram has clutched to his chest now. They’re much different than the ones he had earlier. They’re orange for one thing, almost neon, with blindingly white detailing. They’re hideous. But they’re actually a name brand. “Are they on sale?”

Abram lights up. “Yeah, they’re half off. How’d you know?”

Andrew just shrugs. "Any other stores you wanna hit up?"

"Uh," Abram thinks for a moment. "I'm not sure if they've got a drug store here."

"You don't want drugs, Abram. I've been on them. Not good." Andrew says. Though going without them was worse, for a while. Abram just rolls his eyes.

"I don't want drugs. I need hair dye and bandages. And I think some Ibuprofen might be useful if we get into scraps." Abram says. Andrew doesn't bother pointing out that Ibuprofen is, in fact, a drug. He just nods to himself. Hair dye is a maybe, because Andrew remembers seeing a sign for a  beauty store at they were walking through. Bandages and Ibuprofen may have to wait. He tells Abram as much and the other boy nods.

[robogirlwomb]

Lying against the wall, staring down at your slowly growing body with half-lidded eyes, panting for breath.

Another mutagenic pillbug, the size of your fist, clambers off of your shoulder and onto your cheek. You don't even hesitate, simply opening your mouth and letting it climb in, where it curls into a ball and slides down your mutating gullet.

The pillbugs had originally tasted quite bad. Bitter, coppery. The first dozen or so had quite literally had to force their way into your mouth and down your throat. But they literally had not stopped force-feeding themselves to you since you found their nest under your floorboards.

It was around the twelfth one, as the mutagens they excreted began to soak into your body, that the taste had gotten... almost bearable.

Then, it was actually pretty good.

Now, with your taste buds registering them as sweet and fruity, like gummy candy, you can't even bring yourself to bother putting up a resistance. They're just so delicious.

Your body was changing. Growing. Getting longer and longer, fatter, rounder. You had long shucked off your clothes, the better to watch your slowly ongoing transformation.

Your spine had elongated, almost twice the length you used to be, now.

Your belly was a massive, soft cushion.

Your arms and legs were growing pudgier, a layer of comfortable fat widening them.

You could see your feet had changed, becoming more like a digitigrade paw. If you wiggled your toes, it resembled more like a fat hand than anything.

Three new pairs of arms, six total, had sprouted from your sides. It hadn't taken long for you to figure out how to control them.

A fine layer of soft, fuzzy fur was growing, spreading along your elongating form.

You recognized just what you resembled.

You were becoming a giant Velvet Worm.

Somehow, you couldn't bring yourself to be as worried as you knew you probably should be.

Maybe it was the mutagens, sinking into your brain, floating you on a soporific haze.

Or maybe it was your cock, a full foot long now, with a pointed tip, waving in a decidedly prehensile fashion, emerging from a long slit in the middle of where your midsection had once been.

It had been growing for a while now. As your body changed, your cock had made itself known.

New thoughts filled your head. Thoughts of mating, and breeding.

You numbly pulled your phone closer to you, from where you had dropped it.

This is why we don't do fingerprint unlock, you thought to yourself as your thumb slid along your unlock pattern.

Another candy-tasting pillbug pokes at your cheek with one foreleg, and you absently open your mouth, chewing hungrily on it with a mighty crunch.

Your new thumbs clumsily type on your phone's keyboard. One of your new hands was gently stroking your long cock, up and down.

In the Yahoogle search bar:

do velvet worms lay eggs?

As it turned out, that was a complicated question, but the answer boiled down to “some do, some don't, depending on the species.”

Huh. Interesting.

You weren't sure which idea appealed to you more. Carrying live, squirming young within you, or laying a mass of soft, velvety eggs…

Your long, fleshy cock wriggled in delight in one chubby hand.

You leaned forward, once again, trying to see if it would reach your mouth. You strained forward, mouth agape, trying so hard to reach it as you stretched it toward your face...

...not quite. Just short.

You sighed, falling back against the wall. No matter. You were still growing, and your bugdick showed no sign of stopping either. A little longer.

You were dimly aware, somewhere in your mutagen-addled mind, that you were losing control.

That perhaps this was reversible, if you could get help.

But once your cock could reach your mouth... that was the ballgame. You'd be lost.

You could just imagine... your mouth sliding around your cock, enveloping it in warm, wet heat... your tongue sliding into your cocktip, tasting your own sweet precum... it sliding down your throat, your gag reflex long gone... being able to caress every inch of your own length, until that tight heat rose within it like a shotgun blast, cumming down your own throat and into your growing gut, adding to your own cushion of blubber... all the better to provide a warm, nourishing softness for your babies...

You shook off the thought, your antennae rustling gently above your head. So long as you had to wait anyway, you might as well make your home more comfortable.

Rising to your extra forelegs, you carefully lumbered out of your room and down the hall to the thermostat. You cranked the temperature up, sighing with relief as you felt the heat come from the vents. You’d have to dig that humidifier out of the closet, too. And hunt down as many blankets, sheets, towels, cushions, and pillows you had. Even better, take your clothes off the hangers and out of the drawers. You’d need as much cushioning as you could get, for what was to come.

~/~/~

So much later, your partner finally arrives home.

They blink in confusion, already shucking their winter jacket off, with how warm and humid the house is.

They squint in the dim light, searching for you.

A massive, twenty-foot long shape rises from the nest of clothes it had built, your long, snakelike penis sliding from your mouth with a wet pop.

Your partner gasps in shock, unknowingly inhaling a big lungful of the pheromones you’d been emitting for the past few hours.

Their brain goes fuzzy, their thoughts slowing to a crawl.

They giggle giddily, almost drunkenly, feeling a horny warmth rise within them.

The enormous velvet worm smiles, your black, mirror eyes seeming happy, proud.

You caress your enormous belly with four eager hands, a fifth one cramming another juicy pillbug into your mouth, juices trickling down your chin.

As your partner staggers toward the nest, your cock is ready and eager, precum dribbling from its tip.

You’re already imagining what comes next. First, you’ll pump them full of babies. Then, once their muta-cock grows in, they can pump you full of babies.

A few hours from now, once their transformation has finalized, the two of you will curl up around each other, tails and bodies lacing around and around each other, pregnant bellies pressed against each other, suckling each other in the world’s most interlaced, convoluted sixty-nine, as you wait for your babies to gestate.

You can hardly wait.

[secretlyasummers]

It's kind of a bummer that The Master was so quickly written out of the Buffy story, because he's really the perfect epitome of what Buffy (the show) is. The Master is your trite, boring, European vampire. I know Dracula shows up later, but the Master is Dracula. (Fine,he's Orlok or Nosferatu, but six of one versus a half dozen of another.) He's the Old World, the ancient patriarchal vampire who does not drink . . . wine. He does not deign to leave his castle, but sends his brides (Darla, Angel, Luke; he's a very progressive Dracula) to go and do his bidding. Mark Metcalf is no Christopher Lee, but it's the same sorta thing. Buffy upsets that paradigm; she's the young woman, from the new world, taking apart that old story both on a literal level - Buffy kills the Master - and a narrative one. Interview with a Vampire and maybe Strahd aside, the gothic vampire never came back. And while, of course, the other stories Buffy told are still good - love Angelus, love Snake Mayor - I like a lot when it puts itself in conversation with other vampire media.