#then what will I do

[vemberposting]

pros of being fat- more surface area for you to mark up and bite and cover with hickies

cons of being fat- none

feederism/weight gain kink dni

[dcbbw]

WIP Wednesday 5.24.23

Hi, tumblrs! It’s still Wednesday where I am, and I have two WIPs to share. It’s two new ideas that somehow cut the line and demanded I write something out.

One was supposed to be my submission for #WorldWhiskeyDay, although it may be better suited for Halloween; not Fingers … I had the idea, but no cohesive thoughts have made an appearance yet. Although knowing me, this will probably post Halloween 2024.

The other is yet another take on the Applewood scandal. This is what, my third or fourth one?

And just to put us all on the same page and keep my brain on track, top priorities during writing time over the holiday weekend are: NYC AU, Waiting Room, and these two stories. The MC lunch ask is still floating around in my head as well and thoughts on a companion piece to Cocktail.

Anyways, excerpts are below the cut. As usual, everything is in a rough draft and final, published version may differ. Hope you like it!

Middle of Nowhere (tentative tile)

Song Inspo: Death Letter, Johnny Farmer, Organized Noize

The house sits on a bluff in the middle of nowhere overlooking a large, lazy river, as it has for the past century and a half. It’s almost picturesque, gleaming white clapboard covered with blue sky and bathed in early spring sunlight. Freshly mown grass is interspersed with wildflowers; pussy willows surround the bases of moss-covered trees.

The house has no postal address; it sits on Highway 62 East at Marker 129, in the unincorporated hamlet of Tannerton, equidistant between two bigger towns; not larger … bigger. Fifteen miles to the east is Potter’s Farm where residents and visitors enjoy the movie theater, gourmet Chinese food, a public library, and shopping at big box stores. Fifteen miles to the west is Easton, home to blue collar businesses, public parks and a hiking trail, and long stretches of road filled with fast-food chains, pizzerias, an ice-cream parlor, and a combination barber shop/hair salon.

The house sits empty as it has for the past five years; rumor, legend, and lore say the domicile is haunted, the land it sits on the site of brutal and unnecessary massacres. History tells of previous occupants who met grisly ends, or simply vanished as if the house’s walls and floorboards had swallowed them alive. There is no way to separate fact from fiction. Tannerton’s population is zero; the once-bustling waterway town is no more, save for the house.

Any eyewitnesses to the horrors of the house are the disappeared.

Except for two.  

The realtor stands on the front of the house’s wraparound porch, her blue eyes taking in the slow-rolling waves of the Acheron River. In Greek mythology, the River of Acheron was known as the River of Woe and was one of five rivers that led to Hell. As far as the woman knew, no one in this godforsaken corner of the world is aware of that interesting tidbit.

But she is. Her husband is, as he should. He named the river.

She is adjusting the long sleeves of her beige linen dress when her husband joins her on the veranda.

“Is everything ready?” she asks as she turns to face him. The realtor is an older woman, but her face gives no indication of that. Her skin is smooth and unlined even devoid of cosmetics, her sapphire-blue eyes clear and alert, her mouth a cupid’s bow with pale-pink tinted lips.

Her glossy brown hair is still long and wavy, but silver liberally threads her tresses. Her hands are liver-spotted and knotty with veins; her fingers are gnarled, the brittle nails yellowed with age. She tells anyone foolish enough to ask she suffers from arthritis.

“Is everything ready?” she asks, her tone distant as if her thoughts are otherwise occupied.

The man nods stiffly. He is tall and trim; like his wife, his appearance is youthful despite his graying hair. Unlike his wife, his hands and fingers were neither aged nor disfigured.

“It is. They’ll be arriving soon, it may be best to set out the refreshments.”

She nods absently as she scans the front yard. The setting is charming, inviting. A frisson of excited energy courses through her body at the thought of selling the house. There’s a buyer; a younger couple looking to escape the three C’s of a growing city: crime, clubs, congestion. Today is the final walkthrough. The house has sat empty too long; the whiskey untouched even longer.

Annabelle Beaumont walks around her husband to pull the screen door open. “Come, Barthelemy; we have to make sure the Walkers feel right at home when they arrive.”

Come on, come on, come on home

Scandal

Song Inspo: Delusional World Champion, Jean Dawson

Tariq Keriakos stared in puzzlement between his room door and Bastien Lykel, who stood in front of it barring the minor noble’s entry.

“There was a flood?” Tariq repeated stupidly.

The head of the King’s Guard nodded affirmatively. “A pipe burst while the hunt was going on. None of your belongings were harmed; maintenance noticed it almost immediately, but at the moment your quarters are without water.”

“Just my room?”

“Yes, m’Lord. The damage was contained in a timely manner, but we are awaiting parts to arrive. To avoid further inconvenience, another room has been secured for you. It’s Room 4 South.”

“South wing? Isn’t that where the suitors are housed?” Tariq questioned while Bastien pressed a key into his palm.

The sentry was briefly taken aback; the housing arrangement for the visitors at Applewood wasn’t a secret per se, but it wasn’t common knowledge. Bastien quickly recovered.

“It is; given that this is the last night, and all rooms have private baths, I do not foresee an issue.”

Tariq exhaled a long breath. The time at Applewood had been exhausting, this day more than usual. Between Lady Penelope passing him letters from Lady Riley, the horse ride to and from the Ruins, and now his room unavailable to him, Tariq was pretty much done.

“Fine. But my clothing? My toiletries?”

“Already moved and set up in your new quarters,” Bastien assured him.

With a resigned nod, Tariq made his way from the east wing, thinking only of a hot shower and a long sleep.

In the south wing, Riley Brooks, the suitor from America, sat at the vanity in her room re-thinking and possibly regretting every life choice that led to her being in Cordonia.

Tagging:  @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234  @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @queenmiarys @walkerdrakewalker​ @choicesficwriterscreations​

[j-tee]

SHAPE HELL

Yup.

[skipppppy]

So there’s a trend going round where you draw Miku inspired by your own culture and normally I just sit those out bc i’m from England but then the image of her covered in fake tan with the full chav makeup and sloppily bleached blue pigtails popped into my head and i almost threw up laughing. So here’s bri’ish Miku. She smells like impulse body spray and spent the last 30 minutes arguing with the teacher who told her to take her coat off. It’s chewsday innit

edit: i fucked up with the cigarette i know it’s the wrong way round blease stop making fun of me 😔💔

[mi1kw33d-2]

ao3 is crazy because you'll read the most gut-wrenching 200k word slowburn that leaves you sobbing into your sweater at four in the morning and the author will be applejacksmonstercock

[just-french-me-up]

'ao3 needs a like and dislike button'

what you need, my algorithm-rotten minded friend, is a grip

[unpeeled-human]

special defense

does this count as anything ???is this art

[bookwyrminspiration]

sometimes a theme recurs in your work without your permission. and sometimes it reaches a threshold where you're like. well now i think this is saying something about me against my will. don't know what though

[swedenis-h]

Wife lovers till they die

[alexxuun]

Old man Viktor trying to impress young Jayce so bad he pulled multiple muscles and had to lie down after.

[vasira96]

it's always "immortals always lose the ones they love!" and never "this family has had this incredible, powerful, loving figure present through generations of their lineage, all because they are descended from someone the immortal loved long ago" and i think that's a shame!!

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

girl why the hell WEREN'T you at the devil's sacrament 👀 that's three sacraments in a row you've missed 👀 👀 👀

[phantom-shell]

Fiddleford found one of his old shirts

[12neonlit-stage]

you're allowed to discuss and work together, reblog for a higher sample size or something

You have 1 week, good luck!

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again