#so how am i supposed to resist its so funny––

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a pile : Your future spouse\lover's spicy thoughts of you [LGBTQ+ friendly]

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3 pile 4

masterlist\pick a piles feedbacks

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pile एक

read by @tarotbyjam24

Close your eyes and feel my touch slow, deliberate, and maddening. I'll leave you on the edge, desperate for the release I'm not ready to give.

My mouth will always Be better than your hand.

guide your hands slowly down my waist and look me in the eyes and kiss me then i promise i will be quiet

guide my hands where you want them.

L.m.e.y.p.u.y.c.i.m.m

Respectfully I wanna makeout with you tillI can't breath

I want your hands everywhere they're not supposed to be.

You're in my head way too much I might as well give u some

I fucking need you every second of the day and its pissing me off.

I want your body against mine

I am like a rollercoaster. The faster I go, the louder you scream.

The way you react to my touch makes me want to push you even further, just to see how far you'll let me take you.

I'll let my hands wander, finding every place that makes you gasp.But I'll make you wait, drawing out the pleasure until you can't take it anymore."

Feel my touch ignite your skin, slow and deliberate. I'll tease you until you're trembling, then pull back just to watch you unravel.

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pile दो

read by @delulutarot

Your hands feel like they were made to map every inch of me.

I'll start with gentle strokes, then press deeper where it makes you gasp. But I won't give you what you want until you're trembling beneath me.

Your smile melts me every time. It's the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

I fucking need you every second of the day

I'll start with gentle caresses, then press deeper where it makes you gasp. But I'll keep you waiting, teasing until you're desperate for more.

I love how your eyes lock on me, but what's really driving me crazy is the way you try to resist touching me.

You're craving my touch more than you let on, and trust me, when I finally give you what you've been dreaming of, it'll be a whole new kind of addiction.

You're my first thought in the morning and my last at night, I love you.

I wanna feel ur hand on every inch of my body.

I wishyou were touching me Inappropriately right now

physical touch is my love language so don't be scared to grab my neck and start kissing me, I kinda need it

I'LL TEASE YOU UNTIL YOU PIN ME DOWN AND FUCK ME HARD

kiss me in front of anyone you think wants me.

I wanna tease you until you get so sensitive your moans become whimpers

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pile तीन

read by @delulutarot

you mean the whole entire world to me .

If you move you're mine .

Bite my lips and call me princess .

The more I see you, the harder it is to keep my hands to myself.

Your voice brings me so much comfort

wanna cuddle and watch funny movies all night long till we fall asleep in each others arms?

Watch him\her gasp .

Leave a trail of hickeys up and down so everyone knows, wherever they look, I'm yours.

16 billion eyes but yours is my favourite.

Tonight, my hands will worship your body, but I'll make you wait. I'll tease you until you're begging for the release I'm not ready to give.

My hands will start at your neck, working their way down, leaving you trembling. But I'll stop just short of where you need me most.

Tease me until I can't take it anymore!

I can't stop imagining the way you'd feel pressed against me, your breath hot on my neck as you whisper all the things you'd do to me.

You think you know what I want, but trust me, when I'm in control, you'll be begging me to take you to the edge.

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pile चार

read by @tarotbyjam24

i love talking to you so much, our silly jokes, all our conversations mean so much to me, i love that i can be myself with you, i really love spending time with you. i care, appreciate and love you so so much

horny for you .

Fuck. I wanna see you, hug you, kiss you, make you smile, make you laugh, and just lay in bed next to you.

The way you look at me should come with a warning label .

I like you more than I planned . Your lips look kinda lonely Maybe they wanna meet mine?

My biggest wish right now is us cuddling and me falling asleep in your arms

I'm like a drum. The harder you hit, the louder I resonate

I want you because of who you are, not just because you want me too

Take my hand, lead me to the bed, and show me the depths of your desire.

You're my first thought in the morning and my last at night, I love you.

You have no clue how bad I want to kiss you

I want to forget my name while I'm busy moaning yours.

you have beautiful eyes.

There's something magical about the way you make me feel-like i can be myself and still be loved unconditionally, with every flaw and every imperfection.

Cover my neck in hickeys

The softness of your touch is all I need to feel at home, no matter where we are.

I see the way your eyes follow me, how much you want to touch me, and let me tell you-when you finally do, it'll be nothing like you've ever imagined .

Can I fall asleep in your things ?

You can't stop thinking about me, can you? That's because I've got you hooked, and you don't even know how deep I'm willing to take you.

I'm starting to believe that you've made some sort of secret deal with the universe, because there's no way someone can be as charming and good-looking as you without some kind of cosmic help.

You've the cutest smile ever.

ngl..ur in my head way too much I might as well give u some

Tonight, I'm in charge. My fingers will trace your curves, teasing and tempting until you're arching toward me, desperate for what comes next.

You think I'm irresistible now?Wait until I let you explore every part of me -you won't be able to stop.

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Thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me to be a part of your journey. Wishing you peace and joy!

With love, Jam"

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Ifrit is popular amongst the Siblings. Alpha finds it funny, until he doesn't.

"Oi Ifrit, you good there ?"

The fire ghoul sends a sheepish look at a very amused Alpha, but doesn't move an inch, letting the Sibling plopped on his lap trace the ridge of his horns with a fascinated expression.

Two of their friends are snuggled to both his sides, running their fingers over the smooth patches of scales on his shoulders. Ifrit has to fight a content purr, ears flicking. Those cool, delicate fingers prodding curiously at him are making it harder to keep his composure by the second. Alpha snickers as he strolls closer, flopping onto a nearby armchair to enjoy the show.

Comfy ? He mouthes, to which Ifrit answers with a half-hearted glare, the effect greatly undermined by the way his eyelids start to droop. His tail begins to wag, which makes the Siblings giggle.

They were so sweet, all flirty banter and fluttering eyelashes, asking about the engraved details on his horns and the polished shine of his scales. Naturally, Ifrit couldn't resist showing off, nor the prospect of being lavished in attention by such pretty little things, and so here he is, letting them see and feel for themselves as he tries not to let his ex mentor see just how much he enjoys the awed attention.

"Are they supposed to be glowing ?"

Ifrit feels his cheeks warm as he realizes that his horns are, in fact, glowing at the base, warm orange light filtering through the cracks of their inky black surface. Before he can try to save face, Alpha cackles, grinning like he only does when he gets an occasion to bully Ifrit.

"Means you're doin' something good, look."

And the absolute bastard reaches out to scratch behind Ifrit's ear, ignoring his puppy eyes begging him not to further reveal his weaknesses. The younger fire ghoul can't help it, he simply melts into it, tail whacking against his own thigh as his leg starts kicking of its own accord. The Siblings gasp in delight, cooing at this big bad ghoul turned pile of goo in just seconds.

"And that, darlings, is how you make him behave," Alpha chuckles, grabbing Ifrit's jaw for a quick, affectionate shake before letting go. The ghoul in question whines and pouts, even as he tilts his head to give further access to the Sister at his right reaching tentatively for the spot Alpha just vacanted.

"You're so mean, Al. That's just so-"

Ifrit doesn't even get to finish his sentence, a fit of purr loud enough to rattle his whole ribcage cutting him off.

"Awww, cuuute !" the Siblings giggle, Alpha echoing their statement with a gentle tease of their high-pitched tone. Ifrit grumbles playfully, lightly tugs on a lock of hair having escaped the bun high on one of the Siblings' head.

"I'm a hellborn creature, sweetheart," he points out, flashing a bit of fangs for good mesure. All it does is bring some pink to the cheeks of the Sibling on his lap, as they zero in on the sharp curve of predatory teeth. The Sister on his left sighs dreamily.

"Still adorable though."

Alpha is now openly laughing his ass off, especially when Ifrit let the whole weight of his head rest onto the Sister's palm, nudging it so she doesn't stop raking her fingers through his hair as she'd started to do while they were talking.

"Giant fuckin' softie, is what you are," Alpha huffs, "anyone else and they would've been shoved off thirty seconds in, but there you are, pratically letting them lay on you."

"What can I say, I am a man of the people."

Alpha rolls his eyes, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"You aren't either of those. You're a hellborn self-indulgent brat, is what you are."

Ifrit flips him off, tugs the Siblings closer to stage-whisper loud enough for Alpha to hear.

"Don't listen to him, he's a jealous grump. You're welcome to stay here as long as you like."

Nimble fingers start playing with the collar of Ifrit's shirt, the full force of three coy smiles turned his way in an instant as eyes begin to sparkle with mischief.

"As long as we like ?"

The atmosphere shifts, and Ifrit's face splits into a grin as he brushes his knuckles on the closest Sibling's lower back.

"Oh, fuck no," Alpha groans, springing out of his seat and beelining for the door, "I am not watching this happen. Clean after yourselves, you hear me ? Or I swear i'll sick Omega onto you."

"Sir, yes sir !" the Siblings chortle in chorus.

Ifrit smirks, sends Alpha a wink as he slams the door behind himself, and lays back against the couch, sinking into careful touchs. Well. Being a show-off do pays off after all.

[sineala]

Hii! What do you think of the new Iron Man run, written by Ackerman?

Thank you for asking! I was hoping someone would ask me about what I think of Ackerman's run so far! I have a lot of opinions. (As I type this, seven issues are out. When I started typing this, six issues were out. It has been a while. I wrote most of this a couple months ago and am dusting it off and posting it. The delay on me replying to asks is apparently 6-8 business weeks.)

I have complicated but mostly positive feelings about the Ackerman run. I think he has clearly done all the reading (absolutely all the reading! it's amazing!) and has a basic idea of who Tony is as a character that aligns with mine, which is something you cannot take for granted as an Iron Man fan. I feel that, given his professional background, he's going to be taking Tony on a journey to some interesting places, thematically. But I do have some reservations about elements of the run that most people would consider small and nitpicky details, that continue to bother me more as the run goes on. I also feel like they have now become bigger problems now that the run has launched into its bigger arc.

So I think it's pretty interesting that Marvel hired Ackerman to write Iron Man. I am not very familiar with his work, but I know he's a journalist focusing primarily on national security. The other week, I watched him appear on a webinar about Iron Man and Resisting the Military-Industrial Complex; he is clearly both fond of the character -- he recced some of my favorite Iron Man comics -- and also very familiar with the world he's putting Tony into, and the themes and concerns that this run is going to address, like tech companies supplying surveillance equipment to the military. Turns out there's a whole bunch of things Tony can make that aren't actually weapons that can be used for evil! So it seems like the run is going to deal with questions like that.

I think that emotionally, Ackerman has Tony down. The run opens with Tony getting dropped really hard from a great height more than once, rehabilitating himself very slowly, and refusing to take any painkiller stronger than Advil. Also a lot of the time he looks like some kind of sad wet cat.

This line from issue one is pretty much how I like Tony to suffer:

Look, I read Iron Man comics for the whump. I want horrible things to happen to Tony. But they have to be the right horrible things, though. And I think these are, generally, the right horrible things. So that's very nice. So I think Ackerman is getting that right and I am certainly glad we have him writing this rather than, say, Cantwell. The big picture is right.

But the thing is, I think he's getting the details wrong. I think he's writing an interesting story about the things one can do with money and power, and the morality of the surveillance state, and I think he's not stopping to ask himself whether Tony, specifically, would do these things with with his money and power. Whether Tony would consider these things moral. Not the big things, though. The little things. But it's a whole lot of little things.

I don't think Tony would be in favor of a lot of the things he's expressed support of in this run. At first I thought these were all just bits. Things that were happening because they're funny. And I'm sure most of them are even supposed to be funny. But they keep coming up in contexts that suggest that Tony sincerely likes them.

Basically, I think he's making Tony a techbro. And I don't like that.

This started in issue one, with the gambling. The gambling is not the only plot element I hate -- and it's certainly not the worst plot element I have ever seen in an Iron Man run -- but I think it's emblematic of a larger narrative problem.

In an issue that I otherwise very much enjoyed, part of the plot is that Tony is trying to take back his company from people who have been using it to make Sentinels, and he of course wants them out of the weapons business. So he has to offer them something to do instead, and he suggests that they get into supporting gambling on superhero fights:

At first I thought this was a joke, or something he was just saying because he thought the villains running his company were going to go for it and then he could reveal his true plan, but he seems to sincerely be into it:

The commentary from Ackerman at the end of the issue also frames Tony's gambling idea in a way that sounds positive about gambling:

And it comes up in more issues! Here it is again in #3:

I think we are actually supposed to believe Tony seriously thinks this is a good idea. And I don't think he would.

I think that Tony, as an addict, would be incredibly conscious of the fact that people become addicted to gambling and it ruins their lives; I don't think he would support that. When we've seen Tony gambling in canon it's mostly as some high-stakes undercover James Bond kind of deal where he's there for plot reasons (e.g., Vegas Bleeds Neon). And we know that the Avengers do in fact have team poker night etc etc (viz. Cap #700). So he's not entirely opposed to the practice. To me, he seems like probably the kind of guy who has acknowledged that gambling is a fun activity for him and the price tag is whatever amount he's willing to lose for the night. We don't see him having a problem with gambling addiction, and we have absolutely seen what he looks like with an addiction. This isn't it.

But I'm sure he knows it's addictive for others. And we do see Tony, in general, having compassion for other people he knows with addiction problems. He's Carol's AA sponsor! Sure, he's not personally addicted to gambling, but I think he would be very aware of the harm this would cause other people. And I don't think he'd want to be the cause of that.

Since he's a superhero himself, he would also be involving his friends and teammates, and basically monetizing and profiting off what they do to save the world. Generally, in canon, he has been portrayed as saving the world because it's the right thing to do. Now he'd be saving the world to make money off it. It just seems like a weirdly exploitative thing to do with his friendships. And Tony has never struck me as an exploitative character.

(Also, since all these people are his friends -- and him! -- how would anyone know whether people are getting paid to throw fights or whatnot?)

And also I think that morally, Tony would think that profiting off gambling isn't right -- it would be exploiting the bettors, because that's how a gambling operation works. In the long run, the house always wins, right? If anyone had a foolproof way to win, the bookmakers and casinos would not be letting you use it. Which Tony, being a guy who has definitely taken a statistics class in his life, understands. He knows what the odds of winning are like. He can calculate them. Tony would, essentially, be making money by taking advantage of people who don't understand probability, and who sincerely think that they have a good chance of getting rich. And Tony doesn't seem like the kind of guy who wants to take advantage of people who know less than he does; he generally wants to help people understand, to share knowledge with them. He's not going to profit off their naivete. That's scummy.

At this point, you might say, "Well, you're a massive Tony fan who just wants to see Tony painted in a good light" and, I mean, yes, in a sense, I am. But I understand that Tony as a character has a lot of flaws. It would be fine by me if canon represented them; my actual favorite Iron Man run is one where Tony is drunk and has lost his entire company and is living on the streets. It's just that I liked the flaws he already had, and it seems weird to give him new ones that seem to run counter to his character.

And the thing is, it's not just me who thinks that -- it's other Marvel writers! Pretty soon after Ackerman's Iron Man run started, Jed MacKay's Avengers run had an arc where the Avengers -- including Tony -- had to pull a heist at a space casino. So there's a lot of gambling happening in the background of the issue, and it's one of the themes of the overall narrative. At one point, as they are running the heist and it's looking like it's going to be a success, Tony says they've been very lucky so far, and Carol says something about how she hopes their luck will hold.

And then Tony goes on for an actual page and a half about how the problem with casinos is that, essentially, luck isn't real and won't hold:

This, right here, is pretty much exactly the opinion I was expecting Tony to have about gambling. So, you know, take that, current Iron Man run! The guy writing Avengers agrees with me!

Also, while I've got you here, please enjoy this moment from Avengers #23 where Tony fights a villain who is a giant floating baby who makes his deepest wish come true.

Hey, Steve/Tony fans, you will never guess what Tony's deepest wish is:

They're just two guys, one of whom possesses the desire to be the other one as the deepest wish of his heart. Just regular friend stuff.

So, yeah, there's that. Back to the gambling!

I will say that as someone watching American professional sports, the legalization of gambling over the past couple of years has been absolutely wild and also terrible. The companies that run the sports betting sponsor basically everything they can -- and, sure, every ad says there is a number to call if you have a gambling problem, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say they make a lot of money on the people with problems. The sports news sites will list the odds. The TV will give you live odds during games! Not just gambling commercials; this is part of the game broadcast. The commentators will actually read the odds out loud! People tweet death threats to players who they've bet on who have lost! Shohei Ohtani's interpreter stole his money and used it to bet on sports! This is not good! None of this is good!

So at this point, I had arrived at the conclusion that this run was going to be generally pro-betting. Again, this is not a stance I personally think is great, but every time it comes up in the run, Tony seems to sincerely think this is a good idea. There's no sign that he actually hates it. The narrative seems to endorse this idea; nothing undercuts it, and Ackerman's joking comment at the end of #1 is positive.

So I figured that what was going on here was that Ackerman unironically thinks sports betting apps are great and has decided to pass this same desire onto Tony, because as far as I can tell, that's how it's being portrayed. Okay, sure, it's not my personal opinion, but I guess this is the thing we are doing in this run.

Except it turns out that we're… not doing this?

Because it's taken me forever to write this post, in between the time I started writing it and me getting to this paragraph, Spencer Ackerman actually did an AMA on /r/ironman, and while I am not brave enough to ask an actual Iron Man writer anything when my account's comment history definitely demonstrates that I read and write erotic Iron Man fanfiction, other people did in fact ask about the gambling.

Ackerman's reply was as follows:

"After watching practically all of sports media transform over the past 3-ish years into gambling portals or adjuncts, I had the idea rattling around in my head. From a narrative perspective, I like the idea of a Not-Good Thing (creating a gambling market for superhero fans) that is a solution to a Worse Thing (weapons manufacturing/acquisition by villains in league with netherbeings). And you clearly see the temptations such a thing poses with a character like Iron Man, so we can leave that there!"

And I just. What?

None of this is evident anywhere in the run. No one good in the comic has in any way indicated that this gambling idea might be bad. Tony likes it! The only people who didn't like it, so far, are the villains, who expressed enthusiasm but didn't want to pivot the company into gambling! Reading the jokey note from Ackerman at the end of #1 did not suggest, in any way, that this plotline was going to be about Tony doing a Bad Thing. We didn't even get to Doing A Bad Thing For A Good Reason! That's… not there. It's not being shown as bad at all. You actually have to tell us, at some point, that this is the thing you are doing in your story. You have entirely failed at conveying this!

Also, you have failed to sell me on the idea that Tony finds gambling personally tempting -- as I said, I don't think this is true, and I think he would find this business plan even more morally abhorrent if he did find it personally tempting -- but I feel like failing to show me that this is a story where gambling is supposed to be bad is a bigger narrative flaw. I literally had no idea that this was the intended plot until I read that AMA.

I can only judge the story as it is written on the page. I cannot judge the version that Ackerman intended to write in his head. He has written a story that suggests that everything about Tony getting into the sportsbook business would be great, because Tony thinks it's great, and the only people who don't like the idea are the villains. Typically when a hero in a comic book likes something and the villains hate it, that thing is supposed to be A Good Idea. But apparently it is, in fact, not a good idea! This is maybe not a great narrative choice.

Tony's other interests, much like the gambling, also seem to be very techbro, and they are once again not being presented in a way that suggests that we are in any way supposed to think these are bad. Tony has once again run out of money and has built himself a very steampunk-ish suit that is basically supposed to be extremely cheap. Instead of having his suit run by some really cool computer, he has… ChatGPT. This is clearly intended to be a joke, because it's giving him wrong information:

So I figured, ha ha, funny little joke. We have now made the joke. We are done, right?

We are not done. Tony is still using it, apparently seriously. This is weird for a couple reasons: one, being a fan of generative AI in the real world is not exactly a value-neutral choice, and if you're seriously going to have Tony use it, I would at least expect to see some argumentation for why he thinks this is a good idea. You have to sell me on why Tony believes in this and is willing to, say, discount the harm it does in the real world. Maybe this is also a thing Tony believes that we the audience are just supposed to know is wrong, like the gambling. But I have no idea, because the story is not going to tell me!

The other reason it's weird is that, universe-internally, Tony should not need this. LLMs like ChatGPT are basically the cutting edge of AI in our world. This is not the case on Earth-616. 616 has actual sentient artificial intelligence that is truly intelligent. Tony has created and/or repaired a bunch of robots and AIs. He has a lot of AI friends. He could, literally, right now, ask Jocasta to come help him run his suit, and if he looked sad enough she would probably say yes. Settling for ChatGPT is absolutely inexplicable given the resources he has! So why is he doing this? Just because it's funny?

(He also never used to need to run AIs in a lot of his suits, and honestly I would have expected that a low-tech suit would be controllable without AI just like the old ones. So it's not even clear why he needs one.)

Similarly, issue #6 begins a series of One World Under Doom tie-ins in which Tony decides to keep selling weapons to defeat Doom -- more on this in a sec -- and he is considering doing so by funding, essentially, terrorists. But the thing I would like to draw your attention to is that he is offering to fund them by offering them crypto.

Why in the world would Tony think crypto was a good idea? If this is supposed to be some sign that this (like funding terrorists) is some moral compromise on his part by doing smaller bad things to avert a larger bad thing, this is not evident in the text at any point. As far as I can tell, nothing about this particular part of the deal is supposed to be questionable. Why would Tony like this?

But the big sword? The big sword is amazing. No notes.

I think a lot of the problems in this run stem from Ackerman not primarily being a fiction writer. He's come up with a complex, detailed, thoughtful plot that clearly draws from a set of topics he knows a whole lot about. But this isn't supposed to just be worldbuilding. You have to also give me character. I want to know how Tony feels about what he's doing and what motivates him. The plot has to work on an emotional level and I don't think it is. It'd be a great, IDK, series of blog posts set in a fictional world. It's not a great narrative.

I feel like, from my perspective as an Iron Man fan, the way Ackerman talks about his conception of Tony is a portrayal of Tony I like, and he likes all the same runs I do -- but I don't think he's good enough at writing fiction to actually convey his view of the character, and I don't think he's aware that what he wants to say isn't coming across. His heart is in the right place wrt the character, as far as I can tell, but he's not actually pulling off the plot because you need to actually nail the character to do that.

In the current Doom arc, we are given zero internal access to Tony's thoughts. Ackerman has said that this is intentional. I understand that thought bubbles are passé, and not using direct narration is a choice, but then you have definitely hit Hard Mode of fiction writing. If you're not going to tell me how Tony feels about what he's doing and why he's doing it, you have to have that come up at some point in the story some other way.

And we have now hit a plot that is clearly What If Tony Had To Do A Wrong Thing (selling weapons) To Stop A Worse Thing (Doom running the world). Okay. Great. This is clearly an Iron Man theme. This is Armor Wars. This is Civil War. But if you're not writing this with any kind of emotional access to Tony, then you are basically recreating the situation where everyone reading Civil War thinks Tony is a fascist asshole and they don't read the two comics where Tony explains that actually this is all a front to save lives and he feels miserable about it. Except you aren't telling me how he feels about it. If you want anyone to have sympathy for the character, you need to actually make the reader Feel Feelings. So this isn't working for me. It could be made to work for me, pretty easily! But that's not how it's being written.

So, yeah, that's what I think so far: he has intentions that align with my conception of the character (both personality-wise and in terms of the amount and flavor of personal suffering that Tony endures), but I don't think he's good enough at fiction to actually write the plot he wants to write.

[merlions]

Midway through typing this post my best friend called (she's the one who got me into tma to begin with back as the end of s1 was releasing and who's just as insane as me abt it, we talk about it literally every time we talk on the phone) and I was like, omg Lay do you remember that couple of months we had each been like taking a brief break from magnus and I got back from that plane ride where I caught up on it and as soon as I got back I was like "omg it has a plot, it's all connected, you just gotta get to like ep 140!!"

And she was like yeah, I was the one who picked you up from the airport and you fucking jumped into my car screaming that with the same energy as if I was the getaway driver for a heist and you were sprinting out of the bank just fucking drenched in colored ink

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Followed quickly by: "Yeah why did we still think there wasn't a plot during worm hell"

"Oh that was cause we didn't notice it was significantly weird for worms to be a woman"

"Oh yeah and of course ol knife hands Mike"

"Of course")

I don't remember what I thought at the time on my first listen when magnus archives was first coming out, before I was aware it was gonna have an overarching larger plot beyond just the individual statements. But in retrospect I'm shocked I don't remember because when I think about it now, like imagining listening to the first few episodes assuming it won't ever have a larger plot, the conceit is so fucking funny.

A guy comes on mic, is extremely snarky and derisive to the recently deceased person he took over for, then tells an extremely scary story, then tells you all the reasons he doesn't believe a fucking word of it.

It's kinda like a reverse of the classic "goddamn you see that shit? That was fucking crazy. Anyways I'm rod sterling".

But instead it's: *terrifying monologue* "That was normal. Webbed corpses are normal, and meat apartment is normal. The only thing crazy about that statement is the statement giver's clearly abysmal mental health. Nothing supernatural could cause anything like that. Anyways I'm Jonathan Sims"

[strwbmei]

i can't get kafka off the brain, she's so attractive 😭 she'd be such a huge brat, testing your patience all the time with that smug grin. she deserves to get tied up, gagged, spanked, humiliated and fucked until she's crying and promising to be good 💞 she's 100% a masochist

-🌧️

I am so sorry. This was only supposed to be a short, 2-4 paragraph thirst, but then it turned into pure filth 😭😭😭 Also a bit extreme compared to other things I've written, so it might not be to most people's tastes

nsfw utc (fem reader with strap on, bondage, dom/sub dynamics, use of toys, spanking, dacriphilia, not proofread)

She'd probably rile you up on purpose just for that. There's nothing she wants more than to just lay there and get fucked senselessly until she inevitably ruins the sheets, and she knows you're perfectly willing to accommodate her. Still, getting what she wants so easily would be so boring, wouldn't it? It's not fun if you aren't seething with a kind of irritation only Kafka could make you feel and if she still has some form of control of her body.

It'd start with you tying Kafka up, a bullet vibrator pressed onto her clit. The way her moans sound through the gag is delightful; they show how much of a whore she is for you. You watch her with disinterest and indifference in her eyes, fully clothed as opposed to how the only things Kafka is wearing are a ball gag and fancy ropes of silk the color of your eyes (something she insisted on) digging into her curves and currently unblemished skin.

It's humiliating, really, being forced to feel all vulnerable and owned—but both of you know just how much she loves that. Maybe if you're in a good mood, you'll even let her cum once or twice tonight. Kafka doubts that, though, especially with how bratty she's been acting. Your patience has its limits, and Kafka wants nothing more than to push you over the very brink of it. She starts begging, vulgar and wanton; almost mocking in its tone.

Kafka thinks you've finally given in when you remove the vibrator from her puffy clit. She prides herself in her beauty, after all. No one would be able to resist her "charms" for long... right? Wrong. Instead, you push her down, knees bent so her face is pressed into the mattress while her hips are up in the air. When you start spanking her ass, she begs for the bullet vibrator again. Her abused cunt just feels so empty, fluttering around nothing as your hand leaves yet another mark on her ass. She's already so overstimulated, and you've barely even started.

The woman endures, locks of hair the color of her most favored wine cascading along her back as each moan becomes more strained than the last. Anticipation fills her lust-addled head as she feels the tip of your length rubbing against her folds. You relish in the way her back arches as you finally insert the strap-on inside her neglected cunt, not to mention the drawn-out moan she lets out. God, you're sure her facial expression right now is downright sinful—you can tell by how she's clawing at the bedsheets and eagerly moving her hips to chase yours.

But you don't move.

Why would you? Did Kafka think you'd be nice to her after all that she's done? Her whines are barely audible through the ball gag, but you hear her mention something about "how mean you always are to her." Funny. You've been patient with all of her bullshit for as long as you've remembered, yet now you're the mean one. You were planning to be a bit lenient since you felt bad for her, but she can wave goodbye to any chance of being able to use either her voice or her legs for the next few days.

"Move," you command her. "Don't you think it's time you stopped relying on me to get you off?" Kafka whimpers at your words, looking back at you with glossy eyes. You can't help but snicker in response. It's rare to see her so desperate and needy to be filled. Maybe you should do this more often? She never really learns her lesson, after all. Realizing you weren't gonna budge on your decision, she rocks her hips as much as she can with her limited range of movement. She can feel each vein and bump of the fake toy rubbing against her walls, but it just isn't enough.

It's not rough enough. Not fast enough. Not deep enough. Nowhere close to being enough, but Kafka submits to the humiliation nonetheless. She can't bring herself to care anymore, too focused on making sure to savor each and every bit of pleasure she's feeling. You look at how fervently she's fucking herself on the fake cock, and think of how you've each turned the other into fully fledged perverts. Kafka wasn't this much of a masochist before she ended up in your bed. Or was it hers? You don't remember.

She never understood the people who liked getting hurt. Kafka used to find the marks that ropes left on her skin itchy and unbearable, but now she loves reliving the memories of lust and passion whenever she sees them. She wears them with pride. You, on the other hand—have never felt like more of a degenerate. You catch yourself wanting to break her; to ruin her for anybody else. You desire to know her body in a way completely exclusive to you. You want to own her; mind, body, and soul.

The past few minutes are a blur. Without realizing, you've been fucking Kafka senseless as she sobs from the overstimulation. The smell of sex fills the air as does the sound of your hips colliding with the fat of her ass. You thrust as quickly as you can, much to the other woman's pleasure, but the tightness of her pussy makes it more difficult than it usually is. You've been holding her over the brink for a while now—you're not sure how long exactly, but enough for her legs to be shaking and for her knees to give out. If not for your hands settling themselves on her waist, she would've toppled over. Kafka is powerless, and she loves it.

When you see her cum form a white ring on the base of your strap, you know you've found another excuse to fuck her dumb, and you plan on making full use of it.

[tohakumaru]

climb the stairs, the nomad is with you.

it is futile. you know this is the end. and it's quite alright, you've always been alright.

the steps are sturdy and forgiving though the hill is steep. it is not so much a struggle, but it drags. this is fine, a funny thing about time is that it passes regardless. whether you want to or not, you arrive at a lonely tree, so tall it almost eclipses the sky.

the tree has no leaves, only dry branches covered in flowers with bright red petals, from which buds of cotton-white silks burst out like stars spilling their guts over the emptiness of space.

...

this shame you live with.

that night she sleeps with her hair caked in mud

a top-shelf doll sits crossed-hand, stuffed with fluff and bone-dry eyes

passing divine judgement, you could swear its lips curl into a knife

...

with soft crackling sounds, the trees rises from sleep. it crouches towards you: branches reach out to envelope you in a wiry embrace, and lift you up. it cradles you like a mother does a child. when your head comes to rest on a barren patch on the trunk, the tree shudders: from a thin crack in the balk a flower grows and blooms. five petals like the rest, but an empty core. you look on with no resistance as a thin stalk climbs your neck, hangs over your face, and creeps into your right eye. it pulls from the socket a silver thread and attaches one end to the centre of the flower, which swirls and spins, pulling the thread from you as it does.

it dawns on you that you are being unravelled, quite literally.

for a very, very long time, you lay there and wait for sleep to come. it seems fitting, the motion of the flower-spool and the unbelievable lightness of coming undone work like a lullaby. ebbs and flows and tells you to go. it is fine, it is quite alright, even if there's nothing waiting, not even judgement. you can leave.

… and yet… you are still awake. how long must this take?

as though in answer, the flower suddenly stops spining, the tree tenses up - there is a snag in the thread. the line tangled in clumps forming a face, vaguely resembles that which was once buried in a shallow grave in your mind. this one won't go.

is this supposed to happen?

you frantically look for the nomad, but it is too far down. the panic sets in, but you don't have limbs to squirm nor mouth to scream. you are terrified. please, i will think of something, there must be a way. i am so sorry. i… i don't know what to do. i am still here. forgive me, i am scared, too. what do we do, darling? talk to me, please. what can i do?

like a bad joke, a crescent tore the night sky apart. you take a moment to make out the wicked smile of the moon - ear to ear as it begins with a theatrical cough:

"here you are!

all out of sorts, i see.

well, i did say it was your loss.

too bad, i don't want it anymore. a shame really,

could have been a nice dream.

do what you wish, bird.

i'm just a moon."

me.

and with that, the moon is gone. for good now, you can tell. then, all is still and quiet as the branches set you down, your eyes fixed on the red petals that slowly wither and fall to the ground. the tree has gone back to sleep.

the nomad stares at you. an unreadable expression spreads across its face as it slowly leans over and pushes its palm straight into your chest. you feel no pain as it opens your ribcage, and sets your lungs aside. soft fingers roaming in search. eventually, they find a tiny pair of wings clinging to your auricle and gently pluck it from your heart. in the light, the nomad…holds…

…

how ironic. we'd spoken about us at the end of the world, and i'm so sorry, darling, but i guess this is the world at the end of us.

cold, and getting harder to breathe.

as my wings flutter in the nomad's palm, i see the sky so wide. it's so cold here. i miss you, miss the aching warmth of your hunger, free falling in your heart.

once upon a time. there was a hole in your chest where i laid dying. lack of faith, the prophet diagnosed with a gesture of grandeur - no cures for it, keep praying. the fool.

there was a tunnel in your mind where your dreams bled and your scouring love leaked into the cold, cold world. help, it hurts like hell, i heard you say. could have done something about it, i didn't. i let you bleed to death, i hung you out to dry.

on top of the root-hill at the bottom of the dreaming tree, a nomad sits with a sand-eaten corpse. in its small, child-like hand, a moth takes one last breath. nothing changes in the world, but something has ended. yet, as all good nomads know, a walk doesn't end until it is home-time. nomads are neither moons nor trees, and despite their wanderings, they care very much about warm beds, good night kisses, and happy endings. the greatest nomad of all time once implied by gestures something along the line of, fuck tragedies, i've had enough, and all the other nomads thought that was a quite good point.

darling?

i love you.

this nomad then carefully tucks the moth into its breastpocket, stands up, gathers all it can of the corpse into a blanket, which is then neatly tied and slung over its back. steadily, it descends the root-hill, passes the groves of living-statues, and continues a brisk pace on its journey. just a bit more now, you'll be home before tomorrow arrives, it hums silently./

[digenerate-trash]

Mandatory (forced) therapy session with Harper where he gets you to admit how pent up you are (unknowingly from the aphrodisiacs he prescribed you) and fucks you like it’s a kindness from him

(I love love love Harper. id fuck him even if I wasn't drugged to hell.)

AMAB harper | GN pc 

Weeks of planning had led up to this. Literally weeks. You had been so stubborn and difficult always whining about this town and its problems insisting you didn't want any of the attention you were constantly showered with. Harper could tell that was a lie. Or at least a half-truth

So Harper had prescribed you something. Just a little pill to make you relax. Make you more open to receiving attention. But you were still so stubborn. 

He used the dosage but you still resisted. You had to be pent up to hell by now and Harper was getting impatient with you.

But today you were off. As you sat across from him and squirmed on the cold exam table. he could tell that today was the day it all came crashing down.

So he took his time. He sat across from you and thumbed through his notes carefully. Every time you tried to speak he held his finger up and motioned for you to wait. Every twitch squirm and whine he caught out of the corner of his eye and made him smirk to himself. 

You desperately tried to rub the blush from your cheeks as you waited for your doctor to address you. You needed help. You came to him for help. To lower your anxiety about this town and its issues and instead, it seems that things have only gotten steadily worse. 

"Now. What do you need today?" harper asks as he looks you over. As if it isn't obvious what's wrong with you. 

Now that's the hard part. You need new meds- that's for sure but for now, you would like him to deal with the heat that's been building in your core for weeks. Leaving you sleepless and needy. But how are you supposed to ask for that? 

"I need..." you trail off but Harper holds the silence waiting for you to admit it. He needs you to say it so he can keep his doctor's facade. He needs you to admit what you want so he can keep pretending he's not the one who pushed you this far. That it's not his fault you're so desperate.

You reach over and grab his coat your hands are shaking a bit as you pull on it. "P-please?" You ask looking up at him with big eyes. Harper's heart skips a beat and he presses a gloved hand to yours threatening to push you away. 

"'Please' what? I can't help someone that's not straightforward with me-" Harper says. But you can feel his breathing pick up. He's grinning at you. It's a game now. He wants you to admit that you want him. Otherwise, he'll leave you on your own.

Neither of you budges unwilling to make the first move. But it gets too much for you. And you lean in to kiss Harper. He seems delighted as he pushes you back against the exam table he's grinning as he shakes his head at you. 

"This is terrible behavior on your part-" he mocks as he pins your arms down to your sides. "But I guess. If you have no one else to go to for your issues I can help you out. I am a doctor after all. And I'm nothing if not generous." 

It's not quite as funny to you as you press your body into harpers and whining louder. Harper covers your mouth with his hand pressing you down more into the table. 

He pulls at your clothes eagerly as he is even more desperate to get at you He might tear up as he presses another kiss to your lips pressing his tongue in. You give in as he toys with you you're nothing more than a doll for him to play with.

You're so got and pent up and whiney that your climax comes fast. Harper looks down at the mess you've made of his gloves and chuckles a bit before removing them with his teeth. 

"That's just the first part of your treatment."

[wiredaughter]

@fluffyfebruary 16: kiss and makeup/reconciliation

×××

Heckle for a Pistol

I’m always telling him not to kill my drones. Not to let go of the proton gun I’ve spent eons working on and was still a bloody prototype anyway. Not to take the carbon based armour I���ve made exclusively for him for a swim in the Pacific, since I’ve not tested the material’s salt resistance. I suppose it’s on me for not asking him not to total my own motorbike I made him take with in case he needed a quick getaway. So totaled it is. Funny how that works.

I glare at the pieces of the aforementioned gun Sapien delivered back two missions ago, and throw myself despondently back on the chair. He cannot die, or I don’t think he can, but still he’d have been hard pressed to make it against those ghouls in Sonoma, say, without my hydrochloric devices. This time, he’d have got a bit chewed up by that sea abomination had he stayed close, and he didn’t. He drove my bike away, not fast enough to escape its spiked limbs, though, and it ended in a crash that left him without longterm issues, and my bike a piece of rubble.

Glad as I am he’s not dead, and of course I’m glad but that’s not the matter at hand, I’m getting tired of the way this place overlooks my department. And it’s my own fault, I joked I’d be just like Morgan Freeman for the Batman, and that’s the regard given to the rooms allocated for me to create a research and development team. What’s the point, I muse, when everything I develop gets thrashed before a patent can be finalised?

Of course, the point is keeping me away from the field, this is where I’m most useful, wouldn’t you agree? I think Manning does. Much as he resents me, he understands acting like my job here has a value gives him an edge. I smoke, indoors as I am, it’s one of the pointless rebellious acts I allow myself. I’m done with looking at diagrams for the day, and I’m mad at the loss of my bike, but honestly, my father will buy me a new one and I’ll actually have fun modding it.

It’s the gun that still eats at me, and for good reason. I’m working on a way to defeat ghosts without having to guess which amulet will do it this time, and what do I get for my troubles? A very blue agent taking it for a spin when he’s facing down demons? Please. I make tea as I try to rework the model, but my blueprints are as indescifrable for me as anyone else. That’s why I keep the prototypes.

I’ve got two nerds slaving at them all the same, in the next room. Manning had preened and boasted when he told me he’d got them on loan all the way from Washington to help me keep his agents on gear, but I don’t care much for them. They’re an alright help, but one can’t stop hinting at wanting to dine with me and the other won’t stop asking whether I went to Eton or Winchester; ever since I declared I’d never set foot on a university. A lie, of course, but I thought it’d make him back off.

Great, now I’m thinking of my temps, chainsmoking and drinking a tea that’s long gone cold as I stare hatefully through the window I insisted on, if I was to have an office. As I curse them and their families, trying to remember their names, they prove their usefulness all the same when someone walks into the office they share and I hear them protest I said no visitors. I’m thinking of humouring the one who’s not a bitch about public schools and sharing a nightcap to spite Sapien when the object of my loathing and the man I’m trying to keep safe no matter how many of my robots he gets slaughtered walks through the door, my favourite employee clinging to him. I cross my arms, blow some smoke in their general direction.

‘I told him you were not seeing anyone!’

‘Yes, thank you…’ I trail off, make a note to learn his name. ‘You can show him around, I’m done today.’

I move towards them at the door, and he makes a valiant attempt to pull Sapien out of the way.

‘We need to talk.’

‘Unless your name is Johnny Walker I’ve got nothing else to say.’

I turn around, open the window and climb out, for I will not be deterred. He’ll want to apologise for the bike and sure it was cool but I’m just done with the entire thing, and unwilling to explain it. I don’t want to think about it. I hear an argument break out and the affected speech of my least favourite intern before I’m walking away.

I’m about six drinks in or eight, paging despondently through Dorian Gray’s excesses when he knocks on my door. ‘I said go away!’

I’m trying to set the door on flames with my eyes and sheer willpower, and that’s the only reason I see a paper sliding beneath it. I get up, ready to tell him where he can shove it, but when I pick it up I realise it’s not some old timey apology letter, but diagrams. Of my gun. I open the door, annoyed at him not being there anymore, and step out to see him walking away.

‘Sapien!’ I jog to reach him, papers held tight on my hand. ‘What’s this?’

‘I was sorry about taking the proton gun the moment I did it. I thought it might help with the case, but I should have asked. I created a working schema from your notes.’

I snort, notes is maybe too kind, considering my work process. I hold his arm to steady myself, surprised in equal parts at his work and his correct guess it wasn’t about the motorbike.

‘How?’

‘I got copies of the material from Philip.’

I tilt my head. ‘Who’s Philip?'

His mouth twists, almost a smile. ‘Your staff?’

‘Oh. Well, does this work?’

‘We won’t know until you build it.’

I laugh, begin pulling him along towards my room. ‘I’ll build it when I’m not drunk. Or hungover.’

He hums as I slam the door behind us. No use letting everyone know they can annoy me with bogstandard IT issues without fearing my wrath again. Abraham goes easily when I shove him to sit on my bed, step back to put the brilliant, legible, workable pages in my desk.

‘And what are you doing now, being drunk?’

I arch a brow. So, he’s got better at innuendo. For all I like that I’d like it better if he wasn’t speaking right now, and move to climb on him to rectify that. His kisses are sweet, and I missed this, so I huff when he pulls back.

‘I’m sorry about the bike too.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Oh, fuck my bike.

[henghost]

Twig Liveblog for Arc 6

[captain haddock voice] what a web serial huh! all i'm saying is that if i had written amy dallon i wouldn't also write this part with jamie. i appreciate the themes here about how the academy is creating its own contradictions, its authoritarian measures only make the resistance strong which in turn makes their measures more authoritarian, etc., and i can't help but wonder if a similar process is occurring with wildbow and i. i.e. the more he tortures me like this the more i want to [redacted]. why!!!!!!!!! why did sy transform into a raging homophobe the first time he interacted with a gay person lmao 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 he's basically bart simpson and jamie is millhouse.

here i was, a casual and respectful mary/sy enjoyer, titillated (in a respectful way) by the "undressing confession," daddy-issues cry for help though it may be, thinking that was the best i was gonna get as far as my sy dating sim side-project was concerned. then there was a brief moment where i was jubilant that there was some lillian/sy progress. then there was a brief moment where i was in religious fucking ecstasy where i thought jamie/sy really was gonna happen. then--and i remember it with crystalline clarity--walking home late at night, that one line hit, and i started cackling in the middle of a deserted parking lot. i'm only slightly exaggerating when i say this rivals the amy interlude in terms of being a true Epiphanic Wildbow Moment. then of course there's the final chapter. doubling down. you almost have to respect it.

i suppose other things happened too. i think the duke, after sy, is the twig character i'm most like. i am also large and powerful. i also command the respect of everyone around me. i am also flamboyant and attractive. i also condemn torture.

on that subject, i listened to avis' interlude on 1.5x speed cuz i thought it would be funny. kind of a nonentity for me personally, though i'm excited to see more fray so soon. i could only think of the quote from that great poet, kanye west:

[lsttpn]

ok

so

lestappen rbr teammates but everyone thought that charles wouldnt fit in at redbull and he proved them wrong by bonding with max verstappen so hard that they become unbeatable in grill the grid

so bare with me and get this

charles announces his departure from ferrari and everyone is shocked because this guys breaths and lives and loves and adores ferrari even in the worst moments so they are like wtf is happening

when he announces that his move would lead him to rbr, they are like wtf are you doing you will not survive verstappen you will be out of place you wont get on with the guy at all

he was out of place because he still felt like an intruder but he quickly got over it because simply max

so, he liked max, that was obvious. like he would not deny in that. charles knows that he liked max since he was a kid but he coped with it when the inchident happened, he coped when max entered f1 three years befor him, he coped when austria 2019 happened, he coped when 2022 happened.

so he couldnt do much about it because it was. a crush. yeah

he thought hey since we are teammates i can get over it and just bond with him like a normal person and just get him as a friend off track and a rival on track

simple

but jesus christ max is so nice that its painful

its terrible. max is nice and thoughtful and a cool guy and pretty and hot and ugh charles almost regrets not resisting another win of barely points so that the merc seat would open. almost

almost because he and max just work so well. off track, on track, everyday every time they meet they just.. click

and its funny too because he knew even before he came to rbr that they click, he knew since he was little and he let other people be convinced that they will not work because they have no business in thier relationship and stuff but being so close to max made him aware of this constantly

and its enjoyable being in eachothers company and they are so relaxed with one another that they start a genuine strong friendship which led them to random talks at 3 am on random days of the week at eachother houses

this is where its starts

they are expected to film a video for the first grill the grid of the season at the next gp

while they cant know what they will be made to do, max knows a couple of people from f1/fia pr and he could easily get the info on what they are suppose to do

he tells so to charles one night while they were hanging out in monaco, maxs flat, just eating takeout and playing fifa

now charles is a competitive person and he hate losing at those videos and is absolutely fed up with being called a babygirl himbo so he tells max to hit those pr people up and beg them for the prompts so he can study them and win

max, another competitive person, absolutely agrees with charles and they shake hands: dammed be the actual champion, that they sure will win but the grill the grid champions is more important at 1 am on a wednesday

so they start to prepare themselves by studying for the video and they are doing study dates between interviews and team debriefs

and they absolutely smash the competition

they both come first, tying ofc and they are absolutely ecstatic

so they do that again and again

some of those challenges are made to be for both teammates so they work even better when they are together, placing first by a margin not only in the championship

and its so fun, the study dates and the absolute nerding they both do and it makes them even closer

at one point,on a study date they have their fluffy oh moment and they just.. get it now that the feelingtm are revealed

and they are fluffy and in love and they do their little cheater stuff and at the end of the season, when they are drunk because they won the constructor championship and charles won the drivers one, one of them slips up that they cheated the whole grill the grid season and every other driver is enraged (mainly geroge and lando tbh thats how i see it)

and they are like tf why did you tell charles you have contact with the pr people?? to max and he says something like i wanted him to win no matter what. in a casual tone

and charles is literally so drunk on love at the moment and says someting cheesy like yeah even if you cheated you still won my heart and its cute and nice and fluffy and tooth rotting sweet and just

lestappen bonding as teammates

and so sweet

ugh its 3 am im done i love this concept i changed it 2 times tho

anyway if you read this ty!, it was a lil thing i had in mind and i couldnt resist not to write it

and ik quality is probably bad, its because this is the first time im writing someting like this but i could not care less ( lie i really hope its at least readable as in i hope there is coherence)

[gamebunny-advance]

Confession

I wish I liked Zuke more than I do.

I don't dislike him, but he just doesn't do anything for me.

And when I say "he doesn't do anything," I almost mean that literally. I feel like he contributes almost nothing to the main conflict, and the conflicts he is a major part of aren't really his fault, so he has nothing to gain from being in them. Zuke basically begins and ends the main story as the same person, and I think a main character should go through a little more growth than that for me to get attached to them.

And frankly, his personality just doesn't make up for those shortcomings for me. He's funny, but almost everyone in this game is funny, so he doesn't really stand out to me.

Normally, I like a kind-of-weird dude, but he's just so subdued about it that those quirks might as well not even be there. I get that he's supposed to be the straight man to Mayday's excitability, but those traits aren't strong enough against the more colorful characters in the cast. I'm not asking for him to be a wet blanket, but he doesn't resist the world's wackiness as much as he could to be a more effective straight man character.

I also get that part of his character is that he's more "experienced" compared to Mayday, so he's also sort of the anchor to this world: he already knows of most of its eccentricities, so he doesn't feel the need to react that strongly to anything weird they might come across, but that makes him very boring to me. He just doesn't go far enough in either extreme. Because it's not even that he just blindly accepts everything: he does have a reaction to DJSS pulling out a mini-Earth to make himself grow, and he does question how Kliff got May's number. He's just... reasonable, but in a boring way. It's like his two main traits are at odds with each other: He doesn't really react to the world, and the world doesn't react to him. He simply "is."

At the end of the day, No Straight Roads is Mayday's story, so she gets most of the important story beats and character growth. Zuke is more of a support character, and that's fine, but it feels so unbalanced when he's also the other playable character. Like, I'd think he'd be at least as important as Mayday to the story, but he really isn't. He does have parts dedicated to him, but again, neither his conflict with DK West or Eve are actually started by him, so he doesn't really have anything to gain from them in terms of character growth. In fact, his fight with DK West is so unimportant to his growth that you can still beat the game and get closure on the main conflict without even finishing it.

I dunno, I just feel bad about it because I don't think I should be as indifferent to one of the leading characters as I am the numerous NPCs in this game. Part of my problem with the fandom's treatment of Kliff was that he's a main character, but gets almost nothing from the fandom, but here I am not giving a damn about one of the two main protagonists. Like, I don't think I could be more hypocritical if I tried.

I'd almost go as far as to say I care about Yiruk more than I care about Zuke. That's how bad it is for me, XP.

The only real capacity I have for caring about Zuke is how he interacts with Mayday as a part of the B2J unit, but at that point he's just an accessory, the same as May's guitar.

To put it another way, I feel pretty comfortable drawing Mayday by herself and can tell a story with just that, but I can't draw Zuke alone, or I feel like it's incomplete.

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 4

surviving is a choice. make yours.

you can’t be afraid to kill. you understand?

i’m not afraid to kill. i’m just… afraid.

i was trying to save lives. i had to try. somebody had to.

if they slaughtered everyone once, what the hell makes this any different?

this sounds like a suicide mission.

we did terrible things in its name.

my honest advice would be that if you’re that miserable, you should break up with them and be with me instead.

you are remarkably resistant. it must be exhausting. 

how is it possible that this is the most scared i’ve been all day?

you don’t have to like what i did. i don’t. but just accept it.

we’ve all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. but we can still come back, we’re not too far gone.

this is why i like you. you just want to hold my hand.

when are you two going to make out already?

have you ever had to work for anything? 

bad things happened because i was scared. they didn’t need to. i didn’t need to be afraid.

i don’t have to be tough. i can run. i’m good at that.

my mom used to say, “everything works out the way it’s supposed to.”

have you been in love with me this whole time?

you start breathing, i’ll start you a shower, and we’ll go from there.

maybe we could catch our breath here for a while.

life isn’t a race. you taught me that. 

the whole world’s haunted now. there’s no getting out of that - not until we’re dead.

we’re supposed to be working together. 

this year would have been painful without you.

you were so self-obsessed, you never noticed your best friend needed you.

i don’t feel challenged. 

if this is where you want to be, then stay.

i need to know if you mean what i think you mean. do you still love me?

i’m with you. ’til the world explodes. 

if we’re going to do this, you need to be all in.

it’s funny how you don’t even notice the time go by. horrible shit just stacks up day after day.

you are not safe, no matter how many people are around.

we’re strong enough that we can still help people.

this is the nightmare, but nightmares end.

we ain’t dead. whatever happened, happened. let’s start over.

there’s nothing left in the world that isn’t hidden.

we’re friends. we have each other’s backs, that’s it. that’s how it works.

growing up is getting used to the world.

we do what we need to do, and then we get to live.

we don’t have to be friends. it just doesn’t have to be quiet.

people always die. you know that.

you don’t know yourself. that’s the big ah-ha for me here. i get you more than you get you.

i know that i love you, and i need you, and maybe you could love me too. and that’s okay.

all you do is hurt me.

oh, please, like you haven’t been waiting for me to screw up.

you’re no sheep. you’re a wolf. 

i actually thought you wanted to be my friend.

asshole, i don’t go to the gym every day. 

so, you’re leaving to fight ghosts? that’s the plan?

i don’t think any one place can be someone’s everything.

all i have is pain.

there are very few people in this world that make me feel the way you do.

can we just forget this ever happened, please?

you’re doing great. i promise.

it’s you and me against the world, okay?

friendship doesn’t matter. love doesn’t matter.

i’m superhuman, right? made of steel.

people will say almost anything to save their own life.

what if i hadn’t come home in time?

they think we’re guilty, so we are.

i’m grieving the loss of what we could have made this place.

tonight, even though we are in hell, i feel like i have another chance with you.

you and me are the way out.

i won’t let anything pull us apart again. you hear me?

i should've just skipped class, partied, had sex, have fun.

you smell like shit.

we need to get the fuck out of here now.

you are not defined by what happened to you. you are what you do.

fuck it. i’m dying tonight one way or another.

maybe you’re right. maybe shit is doomed. 

the reality is, i’m dying. i am dying. you have to face that. 

what happened to “me and you against the world, you’re all i need”?

stop crying where everyone can see you. it’s embarrassing.

all my days are bad.

tonight’s been the first time i’ve felt like myself in months. it’s been so long. i forgot what that felt like. 

you make me feel like… me.

you drive me crazy sometimes but we're in this together. you're not alone.

[phobiadeficient]

M!Scout and F!Sniper sharing a double dildo? Sharing is caring!

i repeat. ‘writes m/f pairing in a distinctly bisexual way’

(no warnings for this one!)

-

Sniper squeezed encouragingly at Scout’s thigh where it had started faintly trembling at some point, his heels precariously close to the edge of the bed and threatening to slip. “You ready, then, you think?” she mumbled, trying to keep her voice gentle and soothing, the motion of her fingers in easy rolls.

“Maybe, uh—a few more minutes?” Scout managed, voice a little tight, a little reedy, loosening up his grip where he was squeezing her arm just over the lip of too tightly, the flippy part of the front of his hair sticking to his forehead from sweat.

“Oh, come on,” she teased, free hand rising to fuss with his hair gently, “you’re just saying that because you like this part. You’ll like the next part even better, you realize.”

He leaned his cheek into her hand before she could pull it back away again, looking sidelong at her, clearly dizzied with want but still managing to flash her a wink. “So maybe I like lookin’ at your pretty face a little too much, sue me!” he said in some squeakier imitation of a charming tone, and she rolled her eyes to break back out of the moment, feeling that squirmy, uncomfortable thing rear its head somewhere deep in her chest, the one that always cropped up when he started looking at her like that. Warm and sweet and like he couldn’t help but smile when he saw her.

“Big city flirt,” she accused under her breath, hoping to god that her face wasn’t flushing, and his exhale might’ve been a laugh, so she curled her fingers hard enough to make his back arch in retaliation. Just in case.

“Outback sadist,” he accused right back, unable to tamp down on his adoration, and now her face was certainly flushing.

“Mate, you don’t have to pretend it’s for prep—“ she purred, curled her fingers again, and it wrung a string of half-swears from him, thighs jerking, “—you can always just ask me nicely, you know.”

“Who says I even like this? This was your idea, you know,” he joked, even as his voice cracked a bit high.

“Oh, my mistake,” Sniper scoffed, tried to bite back a smile. “Is there anything I could possibly do to make this more tolerable for you? Aren’t I the terrible host.”

“Lean forward?” Scout said, cocking his chin at her, and she did, unable to resist the open challenge of it. He guided her a little further in with a hand on the back of her neck, leaned up to kiss her maybe too-sweetly, and she chuffed a laugh as his other wasted zero time to slip beneath her bra and squeeze.

“Will there ever come a day where I have a moment’s peace inside my own bloody home? Where some man isn’t trying to put my bras out of the job?” she deadpanned when he pulled back away.

“Some man?” Scout laughed, and kissed her again. “Is that all I am?”

“Yes. Some man. I don’t know how he keeps getting in. My theory is that the windows are just big enough.”

Scout laughed again, and there was no way it was that funny, but he did that, where he laughed at her jokes even when they weren’t funny. It made that squirmy thing in her chest protest faintly, so she decided to just get things moving again.

She pulled her hand free and toweled it off, and Scout obliged with letting her lean up again, sitting up and looking over at where her fun new toy sat. “So, uh,” he asked, picking up the thing, turning it over in his hand, “you wanna do the honors of goin’ first, doll?”

“You just want to see how much of that you can get in me,” she deadpanned, putting her hair up out of the way before she could forget.

“Hey now. That’s just true. How am I supposed to argue with that?” Scout complained, paused in his leaning to try to pick up the tube of vaseline to ogle her as she slid her underwear off and tossed them in her hamper. “Can’t it just be ladies first?”

“Oh, what a gentleman,” she drawled, crawling back into bed next to him, watching him starting to slick up the toy. She hesitated before moving to take a position on her hands and knees, trying to leave plenty of room on the bed behind her. She felt odd, suddenly, more on-display than usual, and felt strangely sheepish as she glanced over her shoulder and caught the moment that Scout saw her, eyes wide as he took in the visual, fumbling with the now-slick toy and almost dropping it entirely. “Let’s give it a go, then. Go on.”

“Yeah, for sure!” Scout stammered, quickly situating behind her, and she turned her head back forward, trying to get comfortable. It was made easier as Scout’s slick fingers travelled from halfway to her tailbone downward, spreading her apart and ending up nestling in on either side of her clit, making her hum. He kept up a gentle motion there as she felt one end of the toy tease for a few seconds before he started situating properly. “You’re all good if I—?”

“Go on,” she urged, and forced her breath to stay even as the toy slid in, easy after the first push. She hummed again as the toy reached a good, comfortable depth, almost weighty, and she choked on a gasp as with one more push it was moving past that comfortable depth until—

“Damn,” Scout whispered, a little awed. “That as far as I can go?”

“About,” Sniper confirmed, voice choked.

“Too far?”

“S’alright,” Sniper assured, bit back a noise as he slid the toy out some increment and back in again, trying to adjust.

“Gotta say,” Scout said slowly, picking up a brief rhythm, slide and pull and rub and squeeze blending together and making her head tip to hang forward despite herself. “This is… kind of weirdly comforting.”

“Right?” she asked, dead confused.

“Like, that even a way-above-average dick doesn’t make like, a huge difference immediately. If you were already losing your cool the second you hit seven inches, I might’ve felt a little bad we didn’t do this sooner.”

“No, Scout, that’s not how literally anything works,” she chided, rolling her eyes a little. “You bottom too, you know that.”

“I know, I know, just, y’know,” Scout said, and she rocked into it slightly as the rhythm changed into something a little quicker. “Maybe you missed the Australian dudes, I dunno.”

“I’m not disappointed in you and your dick for being under ten inches,” she drawled, tone dry. “Are you hinting that you want to try that?”

“Uh, no? I’m not explaining that to Medic,” Scout said, sounding genuinely stressed out, and it made her laugh a little bit, and he sat back a little, wiping off his hands the same way she did. “Ready?”

“Right as rain,” she confirmed, and tried to hold the toy into position as he went to mirror her.

“If anything is weird,” he started trying to say, but she shifted back with her knees until they pressed into the outside of his and started leaning back, easing, and he stopped talking entirely, a moan wrung out of him just from the toy starting to press in properly.

And to be fair, it was weird, immediately. She felt as her end of the toy reached as deep as it could go, pressing into her cervix, hypersensitive for a moment before on the other side the head popped in on Scout’s end behind her, and from there it was actually easy for a while. A slight shift of her knees to fix the angle, easing back further, and before she knew it, their thighs pressing together.

“Now do I…” she asked breathlessly, and he pressed back as she leaned forward, and the toy shifted just barely, almost teasingly, oddly enough.

“We gotta,” Scout tried, cleared his throat as his voice broke. “We gotta move at… the same time. Lean… forward?”

She did, and whined a little as it eased out.

“And then back,” Scout breathed, and a broken noise squeaked out before he could cover his mouth. “Fuck, Snipes, I hope that’s good for you too because holy fuck is that good for me—“

“Probably about the same,” she confirmed breathlessly, and when her thighs met Scout’s again, she seamlessly shifted forward again.

It was odd immediately, the way it felt to be in this sort of push-pull, to be fucking by getting fucked, oddly animal, too-warm. She felt like she lost ground a little too quickly for her liking, dropping to her elbows then to only one elbow as it took not much time at all to break and reach for herself, alternating between playing with her slickened clit and occasionally just pressing into her lower stomach when she got too dialed up.

It was bloody fantastic, truly, enough that it was hard to hold herself together, moreso when she could hear Scout losing his mind behind her.

“God damn, Snipes,” he managed, panting, and her face fell into the crook of her elbow for a moment, flushing at the almost pleading tone he had. “Didn’t know you—you like it like this.”

She hummed in question, not trusting her voice.

“Fuckin’—hard and short and, and deep,” he explained, overwrought, voice weak.

“Can’t handle it?” she tried to tease, just to cover for herself. “Over so soon?”

“Like I said, ladies first,” he laughed, and she wished she could deny it and make a competition out of it, but frankly, she was pretty sure he was right. He hadn’t even touched his dick properly yet and was rapidly starting to take over the rhythm for them both. She didn’t stand a chance.

He wasn’t even a gentleman about it. Barely slowed down as her orgasm crashed over her, then returned to the same rhythm again as she reached the other side panting and gasping, oversensitive and weak. She found herself still rocking, even half-mad with it, overheated and hungry for the same thing to happen to him, and by the time she felt him shift to stroke himself off, spilling over his fingers not long after, she was close enough to the edge that he had to reach back to hold the toy still as she bounced on the toy recklessly until the endorphins flooded her again.

She slid off of the toy and flopped down onto her side, groaning, thighs burning and hand threatening to cramp. Scout joined her a moment later, laying with his chest against her back, arm looping loosely over her stomach before eventually his hand migrated to squeeze at her chest, more playfully than expectantly, nosing in at the hair on the back of her neck.

She could almost say ‘lovingly’, if she wouldn’t hate that.

“I gotta wash the toy,” she mumbled, before she’d even properly caught her breath.

“I’ll get it in a minute,” Scout assured, pulling her closer before she could get up. “That was really somethin’, huh?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, settling despite how odd she still felt about him being cuddly like this. Squirmy, almost. “Took a long time to set up, but, we’ll have to remember that one.”

Scout’s hand cupped at her chest, warm and rough near the callouses, body hot against her back. “You’re sure there’s not any other, like, good position for that, though?”

“I can ask the sheila at the till in the sex shop,” she murmured, “why? Was the angle off?”

“No, just,” Scout said, and paused as he clearly searched for the right words. “Just, it was weird that I couldn’t really see you or touch you much. If there’s a different way, though, where it’s not, y’know, all far like that…”

“Worried I’m going to sneak off or something?” she teased, unsure what he meant.

“It would just be nice,” he laughed, nosed in at the top of her spine. “I just like lookin’ atcha.”

She felt him smoothing his fingertips over where her heart and Uber implant were supposed to be, one foot nudging between hers and crooking at her ankle, audibly smiling and shining with adoration, and she identified the feeling in her chest as maybe less of a squirm, really, and more of an ache, now that she thought about it.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Ara having a villian origin story every so often is very funny to me -Danny Words: 3,068 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Nobody's Soldier' -by Hozier

XIV: To Whoever's Controlling Me Like a Sims Character, It's Not Funny Anymore

It gets dark awfully quickly after an hour of walking, Ara is lighting their path with Almighty, keeping her eyes ahead trying to look out for monsters, when Meg squeaks suddenly and yanks her back.

"What?" Ara looks down in alarm.

"You almost stepped on that!" Meg points with disgust. 

Ara has been too busy looking ahead to spot it but feels a shiver run down her spine when she recognizes what Meg's looking at. "Myrmeke. Thank gods it's dead!"

"A murr-murr-key?"

"A giant ant," Apollo clarifies. "There must be a colony somewhere in the woods."

Meg squirms. "I hate bugs."

"I'm partial to them—but yeah, these in particular are not friendly," Ara examines the corpse with curiosity. "It's really hard to kill one with brute force, this looks like something took a bite. Maybe Pollo did it while playing in the forest..." Her lion growls and shakes its mane, he knows better than to get near acidic stuff since he came back to life.

Apollo gulps. "Well, the rain should keep the myrmekes in their tunnels. Just don't make yourself an attractive target. They like bright, shiny things."

Ara glances at Almighty, remembering how they took Festus into their layer the last time she encountered them. She turns it into a compass and puts it away. "Alright, so we depend on Pollo's eyesight now. Everyone hold onto the lion."

The deeper they go, the weather changes, becoming hotter without losing its humidity. "What's going on?" Meg huffs. "Feels like a tropical rain forest now."

"A geyser," Apollo says sounding weirdly excited.

"A geyser," Meg frowns. "Like Old Faithful?"

"This is excellent news. Perhaps we can get directions. Our lost demigods might have even found sanctuary there!"

"With the geysers," Meg tilts her head.

"No, my ridiculous girl," Apollo brushes it off. "With the geyser gods. Assuming they're in a good mood, this could be great."

"And if they're in a bad mood?"

"Then we'll cheer them up before they can boil us. Follow me!" 

The geyser wants them to take a survey. He keeps ignoring their questions and Meg is even more impatient than Ara, so the girl pushes her inquiries in a sharper voice. "Can you tell us anything about a secret grove with whispering trees?"

"Oh." Pete the geyser blushes. "I'm not supposed to talk about the grove."

"Why can't you talk about the grove, Pete?" Apollo raises a brow.

"Paulie said it would scare away tourists.'Talk about the dragons,' he told me. 'Talk about the wolves and serpents and ancient killing machines. But don't mention the grove.'"

"Ancient killing machines?" Meg asks in alarm.

"Yeah. We're marketing them as fun family entertainment. But the grove... Paulie said that was our worst problem. The neighborhood isn't even zoned for an Oracle. Paulie went there to see if maybe we could relocate it, but—"

"He didn't come back," Apollo guesses.

Pete pouts miserably. "How am I supposed to run the marketing campaign all by myself? Sure, I can use robo-calls for the phone surveys, but a lot of networking has to be done face-to-face, and Paulie was always better with that stuff. I miss him."

"I know how it feels to lose your better half," Ara tries patiently, slipping charmspeak into it. "So help us out, buddy."

"Maybe we could find him," Meg nods, "and bring him back."

"Paulie made me promise not to follow him and not to tell anybody else where the grove is," Pete hesitates. "He's pretty good at resisting those weird voices, but you guys wouldn't stand a chance."

"Sorry, Pete." Apollo pipes in. "I'm just not buying it."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"I don't think this grove exists. And if it does, I don't think you know its location."

"I—I do know! Of course it exists!" 

"Oh, really? Then why aren't there billboards about it all over the place? And a dedicated Web site? Why haven't I seen a groveofdodona hashtag on social media?"

"I suggested all that! Paulie shot me down!" Pete hisses.

"So do some outreach! Sell us on your product! Show us where this grove is!"

"I can't. The only entrance... Ah, spew." 

The lights go off but Ara hears the noises and recognizes them without even needing to look back. "Ah, crap. I'm reliving every single one of my childhood traumas..."

"Pete," Apollo says shakily, "when you said your spotlights attracted the wrong kind of attention—"

"I meant the myrmekes," he says quietly. "I hope this won't affect your online review of the Woods at Camp Half-Blood." 

"Apollo, stay back," Ara orders firmly.

"Thank you!" Apollo retorts. 

"I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to my lion!" She huffs. 

"His name is Apollo?" He asks in a heavily flattered tone that Ara hates.

"Only when I'm stressed out by his presence, now shut up," she grumbles. Meg presses closer to her, and Ara does her best to shield the girl. Pollo remains alert although he steps back, hesitant to attack the acid-spitting creatures.

"Oh, Pete?" Apollo whispers. "How do you deal with myrmekes invading your territory?" 

"By hiding," he vanishes instantly.

"Never trust gods," Ara mutters.

"I heard that!" He whispers angrily.

"That was on purpose!"

"Can we dive in?" Meg asks glancing at the geyser.

"Only if you fancy boiling to death in a pit of scalding water." Apollo grabs his ukulele very slowly. "I have an idea..."

"I thought you swore not to play," Meg says quietly.

"I did. But if I throw this shiny object to one side, the ants might—"

The myrmekes jump into action, snapping their massive fangs. Apollo falls on his butt and Ara turns Almighty into a shotgun, firing at their faces but having a hard time aiming in the dark.

"Hey, bugs!" Meg's weapons materialized in her hands, Ara didn't know she had any.

"Aim low!" The girl shouts out as they charge together. "They've got big heads and tiny eyes, so that's a lot of blind spots! Their bodies are tough to get through—hurt their legs!"

Meg does what she's told and Ara feels a wave of pride cursing through her. She turns Almighty into a spear, the distance giving her safety but also easier access to spots such as the mouths and antennae.

"Strategus!" Apollo shrieks when the third ant goes for him. 

Ara rushes to his aid and jumps onto the myrmeke's back using her spear for impulse, then wraps her legs around the thin neck and stabs its eyes ferociously. "Go help Meg!" Ara commands him.

The ant tries to shrug her off violently swaying side to side and slamming its body against the trees, Pollo jumps into action and topples the ant, but traps Ara beneath it in the process. "Back off!" Ara hisses at the lion.

Apollo shows up again and pulls her out from under the bug while Pollo bites and claws at its carcass ferally. "Peaches," the boy huffs out as they both fall back. "Where is that stupid diaper demon when we need him?"

"Where's Meg?" Ara sits up and then stands on shaky legs, looking around anxiously. "I told you to help her!"

A second myrmeke comes at them, they roll to different sides, and out of nowhere, Ara catches a snippet of  'Sweet Caroline'. With horror, she spots Apollo playing his ukulele, actively breaking his vow. "No!" She picks up her spear.

Apollo keeps singing, looking at her urgently trying to convey a message. Be ready. He's guiding the ant toward the geyser. The ant shrieks and pounces, the boy jumps out of the way and causes the ant's gigantic head to sink down the geyser's hole.

Ara drives Almighty right below the ant's jaw. Meg's screams cut through the air and Ara pulls her sword out, Apollo and her lion following closely as she runs to the noise. They reach her just in time to see the last myrmeke grab her and scurry into the trees. "NO!" Ara and Apollo cry out. 

Apollo seizes his ukulele again, but the second his fingers run over the strings, he collapses. She's seen this many times, demigods faint after using large amounts of their powers. It used to happen to her.

Ara decides he'll be okay, but when she turns to save Meg, she freezes. It's too dark and she can't hear the creature, they've always been quieter than most. "Pollo..." she turns and gasps, noticing the state of her lion. "Oh, gods, my baby..." She approaches and hugs the creature, gently examining his burnt paws. 

By the time Apollo wakes up, Ara has healed Pollo and the boy's superficial wounds. "You broke your oath," it's the first thing she tells him, staring at him like he's gum in her shoe.

Apollo sits up groaning. "Meg..."

"Gone," Ara frowns. "She has a day at most before they eat her."

"I know how myrmekes work, thank you," he scowls, rubbing the back of his head.

"You need to get that geyser talking," Ara continues. "So pull out the myrmeke's corpse out of his hole, and try again."

"Okay, so I've had enough of you," Apollo replies impatiently. "I only take orders from Meg because I have no choice, but you—"

"I'm your general," Ara stares at him defiantly. "I'm in charge of every mortal that's attached to the gods and—oh? Oh, what's that? You're Zeus's son!" She says sarcastically. "So you take orders from me! And since the gods abandoned us, you have no choice but to listen to me."

Apollo throws a tantrum, stomping and clenching his fists like a real teenager, so the transformation must be complete. "You're insufferable!"

"Meg is in trouble because you didn't listen!"

"I was trying to save you!"

"So I could save Meg for you!" Ara yanks him up to his feet by the bandana around his neck. "Do what I tell you next time, or I'll kill you myself!"

All she sees when she looks at Apollo is Olympus, and right now, she's got no sympathy for them. Percy was right, they mistreat her, and if Zeus is handing her a former god on a silver platter ready to be manhandled and yelled at, she won't waste the opportunity to do it. To Hades with helping the gods, Apollo serves her now.

Lester has a head injury Ara missed, so he's too dizzy and weak to walk, and to top it all, he's made a new vow to save Meg at the risk of dying instantly if he doesn't. Ara isn't speaking to him as they go back to camp, but she's forced to do so when he starts to hallucinate. 

"I loved you..." he whispers.

Ara looks down at him. "What?"

He sits up abruptly on Pollo's back and holds onto her shoulders tightly. "You were my first true love. Oh, Daphne!"

"Dude, back off!" His face is much too close to hers. She pushes him away and he falls face first on the mud. The girl turns to Pollo. "Can you..." Her question is left unfinished as she spots a second lion in front of her, smaller than hers, approaching from the trees. Her eyes keep moving, and they spot none other than Rhea, with a second lion walking lazily by her side. 

"My lady," Ara hops off and bows. Pollo sits reverently as well.

"Get up, princess," the woman walks past her and pats her head, when she does that, little flowers sprout in between Ara's brown locks like a flower crown directly from her scalp. The woman reaches Apollo. "Wake up."

The boy sits up and speaks hoarsely. "Rhea..."

"Peace, Apollo. I don't want to bum you out, but we need to talk." 

"Why are you... Where have you been all these centuries?"

"Upstate." Pollo skips over and rolls on his belly, the woman pets him gently. "After Woodstock, I stuck around, started a pottery studio."

"You... what?"

"Was that last week or last millennium? I've lost track."

"I—I believe you're describing the 1960s. That was last century."

"Oh, bummer. I get mixed up after so many years."

"I sympathize."

Ara can't say she's starstruck, but she'd never thought this was going to be her life at fifteen years old, that she would hang out in the forest with Apollo and Rhea while her Nemean lion demands to be petted. It's... pretty cool.

"After I left Kronos... well, that man was so square, you could cut yourself on his corners, you know what I mean? He was the ultimate 1950s dad—wanted us to be Ozzie and Harriet or Lucy and Ricky or something."

"He—he swallowed his children alive," Apollo frowns.

"Yeah. That was some bad karma. Anyway, I left him. Back then divorce wasn't cool. You just didn't do it. But me, I burned my apodesmos and got liberated. I raised Zeus in a commune with a bunch of naiads and kouretes. Lots of wheat germ and nectar. The kid grew up with a strong Aquarian vibe."

"And he came out just perfect," Ara says, unable to hold back the sarcasm.

The goddess is on some kind of trip and Ara wonders if gods can get high, or if they simply think I'll get high, and then forget to call it off because they're tripping so bad they can't snap out of it.

"Well, anyway, the communication lines are down, man. Nothing works. Rainbow messages, flying scrolls, Hermes Express... it's all going haywire." 

"We know this. But we don't know why." Apollo replies.

"It's them. They're doing it."

"Who?"

"The Man, man. Big Brother. The suits. The imperators."

"Triumvirate Holdings." 

"Yea. That's their new military-industrial complex. It's bumming me out in a big way."

"How is this possible? How have they come back?"

"They never went away," Rhea shrugs. "They did it to themselves, you know. Wanted to make themselves gods. That never works out well. Ever since the old days they've been hiding out, influencing history from behind the curtains. They're stuck in a kind of twilight life. They can't die; they can't really live."

"Wait, what?" Ara frowns. "What do you mean they did this? Like, simply willed themselves not to die?"

"But how could we not know about this?" Apollo frowns. "We are gods!"

"Apollo, Grandson, beautiful child... Has being a god ever stopped someone from being stupid?"

"I'd say it makes them even more stupid," Ara nods. "Present company excluded, mother Rhea."

"Your shoulders are so rigid," Rhea touches her and the muscles in her body stop responding. "Chill out."

Ara falls back, eyes wide but unable to stop it. "Can't move."

"That's great. Now, the emperors of Rome... They can't all be immortal," Apollo continues, getting used to ignoring her.

"No," Rhea agrees. "Just the worst of them, the most notorious. They live in human memory, man. That's what keeps them alive. Same as us, really. They're tied to the course of Western civilization, even though that whole concept is imperialist Eurocentric propaganda, man. Like my guru would tell you—"

"Rhea, can we stick to one problem at a time?" 

"Yeah, okay. I didn't mean to blow your mind."

"But how can they affect our lines of communication? How can they be so powerful?"

"They've had centuries, Apollo. Centuries. All that time, plotting and making war, building up their capitalist empire, waiting for this moment when you are mortal, when the Oracles are vulnerable for a hostile takeover. It's just evil. They have no chill whatsoever."

"I thought that was a more modern term."

"Evil?"

"No. Chill. Never mind. The Beast... he is the leader?"

"Afraid so. He's as twisted as the others, but he's the smartest and the most stable—in a sociopathic homicidal way. You know who he is—who he was, right?"

Apollo shakes his head in defeat. "It's true, then... The other Oracles still exist. The emperors hold them all?"

"They're working on it. Python has Delphi—that's the biggest problem. But you won't have the strength to take him head-on. You've got to pry their fingers off the minor Oracles first, loosen their power. To do that, you need a new source of prophecy for this camp—an Oracle that is older and independent."

"Dodona. Your whispering grove."

"Right on. I thought the grove was gone forever. But then—I don't know how—the oak trees regrew themselves in the heart of these woods. You have to find the grove and protect it."

"I'm working on that. But my friend Meg—"

"Yeah. You had some setbacks. But there are always setbacks, Apollo. When Lizzy Stanton and I hosted the first women's rights convention in Woodstock—"

"I think you mean Seneca Falls?"

"Wasn't that in the '60s?"

"The '40s. The 1840s, if memory serves."

"I'm having so much fun," Ara speaks from her patch of grass. "Can you please make my nervous system go back to normal?"

Rhea touches her again without paying much attention. "So... Jimi Hendrix wasn't there?"

"Doubtful."

"Then who set that guitar on fire? Ah, never mind. The point is, you have to persevere. Sometimes change takes centuries."

"Except that I'm mortal now. I don't have centuries."

"But you have willpower. You have mortal drive and urgency, just like our daughter of Olympus here present. Those are things the gods often lack." Her lions sit up and pace around anxiously. "I've gotta split. If the imperators track me down—bad scene, man. I've been off the grid too long. I'm not going to get sucked into that patriarchal institutional oppression again. Just find Dodona. That's your first trial."

"And if the Beast finds the grove first?"

"Oh, he's already found the gates, but he'll never get through them without you and the girl." 

"I—I don't understand."

"That's cool. Just breathe. Find your center. Enlightenment has to come from within."

"But what do I do? How do I save Meg?"

"First, get healed. Rest up. Then... well, how you save Meg is up to you. The journey is greater than the destination, you know?" She hands him a set of wind chimes. "Hang these in the largest ancient oak. That will help you focus the voices of the Oracle. If you get a prophecy, groovy. It'll only be the beginning, but without Dodona, nothing else will be possible. 

The emperors will suffocate our future and divide up the world. Only when you have defeated Python can you reclaim your rightful place on Olympus. My kid, Zeus... he's got this whole 'tough love' disciplinarian hang-up, you dig? Taking back Delphi is the only way you're going to get on his good side."

"I—I was afraid you would say that."

"There's one other thing. The Beast is planning some kind of attack on your camp," she looks at Ara when she says that. "I don't know what it is, but it's going to be big. Like, even worse than napalm. You have to warn your friends."

Ara stands and pulls Apollo to his feet, nodding dutifully. "You got it."

"Good luck. I've got to check my kiln before my pots crack. Keep on trucking, and save those trees!"

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[melissamasakari]

Confessions you didn`t notice

Chapter seven. Bright sun

Persistent and loud knocking on the door distracted me from an important engineering problem. Who the fuck is that? The third prototype was ruined! Covering the needlework with a blanket I went to find out what I am needed for this time. Definitely that’s not my red blockhead. He would simply take the door off its hinges and walk in as if this house was his own.

“Here you are! I’ve searched the whole city for you! Why didn't you come to catch gifts from the sky?”

“What should I do there? I have already donated gifts for the city so there are lots and lots there with my logo. It won't be fun to catch two more umbrellas or three more jewelry boxes.”

“You're are overthinking! What about the spirit of competition? And don’t you believe in miracles?”

“It would be a miracle not to get hit in the head with a desk lamp. The broken one.”

“Whatever. Oh, you’re bleeding, kid,” and it’s true, apparently, I pierced my finger somehow.

“Damn it. I’ll treat it now, and it will heal in a couple of days. The main point here is not to catch any infection. That would be just the best thing to catch on that Day of the Bright Sun of yours.”

“An injury like that is quite unusual for you.” Sam looked around at the blanket-covered mess on the dining table. “What are you making?”

“Secret device for neutralizing blockheads. Do not touch! It bites as you’ve seen.”

“Okay,” my beloved friend pulled her hand back and made a funny face. “You didn’t come to the feast, so WE were worried. Cap sent me to check on you and, if possible, bring you with me back.”

“Whose princess am I supposed to be this time? And they even gave me a guard of honor. I'm impressed!”

“I have no idea. You have more and more heart pillows here. Who showed off this time? Gust, Dr. Xu, Albert or someone else?”

“Nobody. I bought it myself. I got used to sleeping on them on my lonely cold nights. What is the dress code?”

“Any, even oil stains on the face would do. But it’s going to be a group photo there. So take the blue uniform and let's go out. They are waiting for us. Wait. No. Not a uniform. Blue shirt, cargo jeans and sneakers.” Sam pointed to hangers one by one.

“I obey your orders, comrade escort! Should I send gifts for friends by mail? But they are over-sized,” I muttered from behind the screen.

“Oh, so you are prepared. Can't wait to see.”

“Certainly. Practical, useful or something for the soul. Children will get toys, certainly. Adults...well, you'll see soon.” I left my shelter and looked into the mirror. “Well, how do I look?”

“Intimidating! Just fit for a ‘wanted’ poster.”

“Fine by me.”

There was a typical celebratory chaos in the Central Plaza. Cheerful townspeople showed off their prizes to each other. The airship flew majestically over the waterfall, having completed its mission. That’s nice - I missed the whole dull part. Now Gale will begin another solemn speech and will herd people onto the platform under the tree. And Sam took me to a bench near the school.

“Captain Arlo, on your orders, the dangerous recluse has been delivered! She did not resist the arrest. Please take this circumstance into account when passing your sentence.”

“At ease, soldier! I promise to file a report on additional days off!”

“Well, I'll catch you later, you cunning cat!” I pretended to have my hands tied behind my back and trying to kick Sam in the knee.

“And this is an insult to the authorities,” Remy added with a sly smile, coming to my other side.

“So exceeding official powers for personal gain does not offend your authorities enough? I'll file a complaint! To your boss directly.”

“Don't kick up the heels” Their so-called boss muttered through his teeth. He threw his arm over my shoulder and pulled me against him by the neck. His palm was now resting on my breast. Mmm, his familiar scent. I'm starting to melt again just fro, that! Wait, what did just happen? “Your lady love,” I nodded towards the church robes flashing through the crowd, “doesn’t mind that you're groping dangerous criminals in front of everyone?” I said in exactly the same conspiratorial whisper.

His reaction exceeded all of later my expectations. Arlo immediately blushed deeply. He hiccuped nervously and abruptly let me go, straightening up, to the roar of laughter from the rest of the team. Worth it! I might regret this later, but not just now. Nora giving away a vibe of a jealous wife, pouted like a huge duck and ran away as I was watching her attentively. Hm. Friendship with her is l definitely out of the question now. I hope she will not stand beside me this time for a group photo.

“You promised not to tell anyone!” It seems that Arlo was seriously insulted and angry.

“Don’t you think it’s already too late to care? The whole city is talking about it. I was the only one who was silent. The statute of limitations should have expired three times already,” I retorted without raising my voice. So are they dating or not? If so, then why am I here? So cruel. Why do you, red blockhead, still insist on giving me false hopes?!

“Stop it immediately! Or I’ll lock you both in a cage, you dumb redheads!”

“Let’s go,” Remy added, “everyone else has already taken they places, they’re just waiting for us.”

“Civil Corps! Do you need a special invitation?” Our good mayor yelled.

Oh, what nice gangster faces we made for the photo! I'll hang this picture on the wall. I can almost see the steam coming out of Arlo's ears. Nora took off her hat and crumpled it in her hands, looking at the floor. Sam, standing behind me, put her elbows on my shoulders, almost like her boss had done before, but much less intimately. Remy, as always, smiled cheerfully, but for some reason it looked very scary today. Django...yes, he is sad. Apparently this friendship is over. Well, okay. I'll survive. The mayor tried to put his arm around my waist. And pet a little just below. WHAT?! Is this a harassment already? I'll kill you, nasty old pervert!.. I couldn’t wait to wriggle free from him!

I was brought in specifically for this photo, wasn’t I? So that Gale has somewhere to put his hand. Old fart, I'll kick a shit out of you! But why it is me who are feeling SO ashamed now? In order not to do something terrible, I decided to flee.

“Hey, guys! Your accusations are void, so I’ll go about my business. Bye-bye,” I made a teasing gesture with a hand and walked towards the Western Gate.

“Stand down! Nobody’s let you go!” Wow, what a statement! I wish I could hear this in a different situation.

“Ha. Try to catch me! Your princess is in another castle!” The gaze Nora gave me definitely deserved a separate photo. That’s a pity I don't have camera though.

“Fuck it!” The unlucky dragon swore. He abruptly gave out several commands and rushed to catch up. I wonder if I have a chance of sneaking away? At least he won't see me bursting into tears.

Now here is the opportunity to check if I have surpassed my personal trainer. And where should I go? At home they will quickly catch me. So, lets go to the left. Rushing past the Papa Bear's home, I headed towards the Bassanio Plateau. Elevator. A great opportunity to get lost in the forest there. All that was left was to climb up the hill. I should hide my hair – it’s too noticeable against the fresh grass. Why didn’t I think to grab a cap? Okay, I’ll hide it with my shirt and turn up the collar. Out of breath, I finally made it to the elevator. I was lucky that it was downstairs. Breathing heavily, I poked at the controls and pulled the lever. Now you can only get here through the Wasteland. Or from a cave on Amber island. By the way, that’s a great plan. I can go down there through the ventilation and return home by nightfall. Surely by this time the supposed siege on my ‘castle’ will be broken. No matter what I am guilty of... It is unlikely that such seriousness is due to the disclosure of his unclassified great secret. Well, they are dating. So what? Here in this small town near everyone is somebody’s significant other, a relative or an ex. What does he want from me now? And why does this very thought make me cry and want to throw sharp objects? I already decided that we are friends. True, after today’s prank it’s no longer a fact.

Oh, the hatch into the caves is not pressed tightly. I can rest there. And I won’t even reveal where I'm hiding with noise. Great. The coolest thing is to climb a tree, but, my height does not allow me to do this quickly. I made my way inside, found a shelter behind some half-broken boxes and sat down in the shadows, clasping my knees with my hands. If something happens, I can even clearly see the stairs to the hatch from here.

I have no idea for how long I sat there in the twilight. For some reason I felt very painful and disgusting. The guys are probably worried. Seeing the stopped lift they should have realized that I had been here. Maybe even Higgins was called in for repairs. What if Arlo went through the Wasteland? What if he got hurt there, it will be my fault! Wiping away my tears with my sleeve I nearly already decided to follow the planned course, but then the roller rails of the hatch began to move with a nasty squeal. I hid back, covering my ears with my palms.

“Well, she definitely passed here, Cap. There's traces in the dust, do you see?”

“The question is where to look next. And what if she needs our help?” Sam and Arlo walked briskly down the stairs and along the wall opposite of my hiding place.

“She herself can help just anyone. You know that.”

“I’m still worried.”

“Why were you so angry? It’s true, Nora’s crush is not a secret for a long time already. And everyone already knows for sure that you mercilessly blow off any girl who dares to bring you a heart knot. Why should Nora be an exception?”

“Oh, leave me be, little thorn. Better take a closer look.”

“I see something. Let's go ahead. Little fella seemed to have rushed into the haunted cave direction through this corridor.” Sam walked past my hiding place, pushing Arlo’s back with her palms and guiding him into a long passage. “Come on, move.”

Then she turned around and winked, supposedly into empty space. In response, I made a closed-mouth gesture. So I have an accomplice, cool! Let them go. It's definitely safe there. And I’ll have time to get out and at least wash myself clean. Wait! Sam DID say that he blew Nora off TOO?! At that time, she already realized that I could hear everything, so this is a hint for me! And what should I do now? First, get out and make my way home to hide the handicraft I have started. In case of unexpected guests, that is.

Great, it's even not dark yet. I can rush through the Eastern gate and up the hill, for example. Most likely, they will come to my house a little bit later. I hope that Sam will effectively hide my trail giving the redhead some extra loops so I can restore some peace of the mind.

To my incredible surprise, there was no ambush near the house. And I didn’t even meet anyone on my way home from the waterfall across the field. Climbing into the window through the hole in the stable I found myself in my kitchen. I listened. I looked out. Silence. Just in case, I blocked the front door with a bedside table and went into the shower. Even if they hear any noise, they will at least not break in right away. Oh...that's right, I almost forgot. I grabbed the blanket from the dining table, threw everything into it, rolled it up in a knot and stuffed it under the bed. Looking in the closet, I took out some sportswear and finally went to the bathroom.

I barely had time to change clothes when I heard the clatter of hooves from behind the fence. Remy? The rest could have came on foot. Judging by the fading sounds, he is now galloping towards Amber island. Did he guess everything too, or I’m delusional? Well, what a show is going on! I’m hiding in my own house from those who swore to guard and protect me here, from my best friends and from the guy I’m in love with. They were so unlucky with me. I myself didn’t notice how I dozed off, sitting behind the screen near my closet. I was awakened by a knock on the kitchen window. Three long, two short. And repeat. Okay, that’s Sam. I carefully peeked out.

“There is no tail. Let me in. I know you're here.”

“Then climb through the window. The door is blocked. Then we’ll tell everyone that there was a rummage here,” following my instructions, Sam successfully climbed inside.

“Where did the chase go?”

“They rush around the field and around the pond. Don't worry, it's good for them. Why did you run off?”

“I won’t tell you, definitely not now. I haven’t really gotten my head around it yet.”

“As you wish. Are you okay now?”

“I doubt it. I told you it was a bad idea to drag me to a party. I was just sitting here and was not bothering anyone. Why did you need to drag me in?”

“You’ll find out when our pepper-breather will finish blowing of steam and will cool down. You should have seen Higgins in his pajamas at the elevator! He yelled, he swore and he absolutely demanded a double price for urgency.”

“What a moron. There were only three buttons that had to be pressed on the panel down the side. How long did he fumble?”

“About two hours exactly. Then he just pried open the plug with a knife and connected the wires directly.”

“Was he at least electrocuted? Now I have to repair this crap nearly from scratch all over again after this.”

“Certainly. Phyllis also have had some extracurricular work. Sooo nasty. Let's dismantle your barricades, okay?”

“Your boss won’t destroy my door later, will he? After his kicks I merely have time to repair the gates.”

“If we don’t sort it out ourselves, he’ll take it out along with the furniture. And, perhaps, with walls, if he understands that I found you a long time ago and now hiding you from him.”

“Won’t you get punished for this?” We carefully lifted the bedside table and dragged it to its place.

“I’ll get away with a couple of extra shifts. Trivial matter.”

“But can you not drag me out of the house?”

“Certainly. Let me get out and run around for show. Then we'll turn on the light. And pretend that this is my first time here. It's already dark enough that I won't be noticed ahead of time.”

Sam left. After some time, the sound of hooves became clearly audible. - from the kitchen side. There are more than two horses. Are those some kind of glitches or else? One of the riders dismounted. His steps were heavy and nonrhythmic. Remington. And the other is Sam. I can hardly hear her steps at all. Oh, here came the wide brusque steps. Predictably, the door was thrown open with a powerful kick. It’s good that I managed to open the lock and didn’t come close.

“Alive,” Arlo breathed and rushed forward. He abruptly grabbed me like a doll and pressed me onto himself, burying his beard on the top of my head.

“You keep squeezing me like this, and this will change pretty soon,” I squeaked in response. He relaxed a little, but did not release me from the hug. What's wrong with him? He stroke my back. And since this is already a pretty long physical contact, now I will either blush, or burst into tears, or suffocate. Or maybe all at once. Well, at least I'll die happy.

“Hmm. We're all ready, Cap.”

“I'll be back soon. Close the door. From the outside,” wow, his heartbeat is at extreme rate. Now I can even feel it with my cheek. And my blood is pounding in my ears so terribly. I just wanna bury my face in his chest. Maybe forever. Should I probably say something?

“Sorry for causing so much trouble. I don't know what came over me.”

“It's okay. The main thing is that you are safe. I don’t even want to know how you got here before us.”

“Agreed. And what do they have ready?”

“You'll see now. Let's go.”

Arlo took me by the hand and led me out into the yard. We walked around the house and found ourselves near the stables. I was not mistaken, there were more than two horses here. But Teddy isn't here. This white one is Spacer. Brown mare in dapples is Arrow. And for some reason, some balloons were tied to the saddle of a cream-colored young filly.

“Surprise!” All three shouted in unison.

“Come and greet her.” Sam lightly pushed me in the back. The redhead released my hand with obvious reluctance.

“What?” I was surprised to recognize the very same filly for which I had been saving money since last fall. I asked McDonald not to sell her to anyone. “Guys, have you all gone crazy? I planned to go buy her next week!”

“Now there is no need. So what will you say?”

“I say – welcome home, Shifter. I hope you’ll like it here as much as I do,” the horse trustingly poked her wet nose into my neck. That looks like a start of a new friendship. I would really like that

Spacer whinnied and tried to bite my ear. That's a nasty horsemeat sausage!

“What kind of tricks are there?! Calm down! If you behave like this, we’ll miss the land run!” The mischievous horse stiffened and calmed down. What a commanding voice Arlo used. I'm so impressed.

“Admit it, whose idea it was?”

“You won’t believe it, but it’s yours. I just remembered and organized everything. The rest of us supported. And besides, if you’ll decide to join Corps, you won’t be able to do this without a horse. And the territory will soon get larger so we will probably have to expand our staff.”

“I love you guys!” I extended my arms invitingly for a group hug. “Thank you all so very, very much!”

[dravidssideblog]

Normally, when I wake up in the morning, I like to just lie in bed awhile, hug my plushie bunny, enjoy being comfy. But today, I can't help but feel very… very… hungry~

I feel my mattress shift, and I roll out just in time as it opens up and swallows my blanket. Sorry, but I've got a big day today! I grab my shirt, and it practically wiggles its way over me, eager to have me inside it. In fact, it's a little tough to get my head and arms out the holes! My pants go on the same way, chewing at my waist before settling down. Glad they're easy to satisfy, but now I'M itching for a meal!

I race to the kitchen, pour myself a bowl of cereal, add some milk, grab a spoon, and swallow the bowl whole! Gosh, everything feels so good going down today~

Getting outside to water the plants is a hassle, as the house tries its best to keep the doors locked and keep me inside. I placate it with some rubs, then slip out while it's distracted. The plants are busy wrestling, stems and flowers splitting open to swallow each other up. Looks like a few of them have already won a meal, and one lone plant in the corner is gulping down a squirrel that was probably trying to snack on it first.

Once I get the hose going, the plants stop fighting and open wide for an easy meal. I fill them up, the water traveling down their stems and pooling up in a big bulging belly. The plants are mostly cooperative, but the old tree tries to snag my ankle with a root and drag me inside. But it's not like this is my first vore day, I saw it coming a mile away.

I finish up fairly quick, and the moment I so much as approach the door, it swings open and the carpet stretches out like a tongue to slurp me in! The door shuts and I'm left wrapped up on the floor. The house is satisfied just to have me back inside, but the carpet itself refuses to let me go, coiling around me tight enough to make me burp up the bowl and spoon from breakfast!

Well, looks like I've got some room~ The carpet splits open at the end, hovering above me like a snake, but I lean in and bite it on the corner! I pull and drag, slurping it up like a noodle. A wide, fuzzy noodle that make a nice big bulge in my gut~ Sorry carpet, but it's eat or be eaten today, and frankly, I'm a little too hungry to give up on eating yet~

I check my social media, the site already filling with pics of people showing off their bulging bellies; roommates who slept in, friends who lost bets, or just happy willing romantic partners. Lots of funny pics too; a dog that finally got revenge on the vacuum cleaner, a poor soul who got eaten by their recycling bin (at least it wasn't the garbage bin!), and a video of someone struggling to get their clothes out of the washing machine.

Heading back to my room, I find my pillow chewing on a bunny-shaped bulge. I hold it down and reach into the pillow case, dragging my bunny plushie Hobbles out from its maw. I give her a hug, then a look over; I had her in my belly all day last year, but I'm still pretty full from that carpet. But she is looking pretty tasty right now~ She turns her head toward me, and her face splits into a mouth. Aww, that's cute, she thinks she can- Mmph!

Cloth and stuffing surround my head, then my shoulders. I curl up as Hobbles works her way down my body. Within seconds, she packs me all away, slurping down my feet and turning me into what I'm sure is a COLOSSAL bulge in her little plushie body. And golly, it feels so nice in here~

This is why I had to be so careful not to get eaten; once I'm inside such a soft, tight belly, how am I supposed to resist~? The stuffing all around me, the pressure of the fabric walls, the- Oh, gosh, she's rubbing her belly! Oh, why did it take me this long to get eaten by a plushie? I usually just get snapped up by a friend, or I let my mattress gulp me down. But this is so much softer and comfier and NICE!!

I spend a nice, long while just enjoying Hobbles' gut, rubbing against the stuffing and fabric, shifting around to feel the pressure, leaning into her little rubs and giving her rubs in return. It's so comfy in here, I could relax and sleep the whole day away…

I get bored after half an hour. It feels great, but I kinda want to do things today, so I start to push and struggle. Hobbles doesn't like that very much and does her best to squeeze me in place, but fabric and stuffing can't beat muscle and bone. I push my feet down, stretching her body and pushing me up toward the head- Wha!

My foot slipped into something! Into her leg, I guess. It stretched out really far, my leg is basically all the way in there. Wait… Hey, that's an idea. I feed (heh) my other leg into hers, and feel around for her arms so I can do the same there. I push my limbs into hers, lift up my head, and I can see out her mouth!

Then she snaps her maw shut on me.

"Hey, chill out." I reach up a hand, her hand, and pat her on the head. My head. I sit up and move my legs a bit, then stand up; I'm wearing Hobbles like a suit! She seems to understand, and lets her mouth hang open for me to see. I pet her head. "That's right, you can keep me inside, just play nice. And speaking of nice, this feels INCREDIBLE!" In response, Hobbles wraps her- our arms around us and gives us a squeeze. I join in the motion, doubling our hug's tightness.

Then my belly grumbles. Even with that carpet still stretching out my gut (and Hobbles'), it's just not satisfying me anymore. I snatch the pillow off of the bed, which immediately chomps onto our arm. I pry it off, letting it wiggle upside-down. "Hey Hobbles, this little rascal made you a snack earlier. What do you think we should do with it~?"

Hobbles lifts our hand to hang the pillow over our mouth.

"My thoughts exactly~"