#ticklish fat old men

[dangopango00]

After Last Night (2)

Waking up with him after a hookup

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 |

FAT/LBC men x gn reader (Ayn and cael)

CW: Suggestive, cael (sorry i like him i just happen to also like hating on him), ok genuinely cael but its the fact that in his blurb MC is kind of your daughter

A/N: Ayn is my fave but i dint do him in part one to keep me motivated to finish part two 💀💀 mind games also im acc so obsessed with step parent reader wtf thats so cute

more utc

AYN / AI YIN (艾因）

- SCENARIO: Ayn is very aloof and he doesn’t drink so he’s not sleeping with anyone he doesn’t know well; you two are very close. You’re in the music club and trying to pick up/get better at an instrument and you pestered Ayn into giving you tips until you became so close that he basically acted as your tutor. Tbh you’re probably already in a situationship and you’ve probably kissed a few times but nothing crazy, you’ve never pushed it that far— well that is until last night. You hadn’t seen each other in a long time just because you were both busy and Ayn missed you so he had you come to his hideout and well shit happened

- He wakes up first but is incredibly out of it like there’s still drool dribbling out of his mouth and he’s only really half awake; he kinda looks dead in his stupor

- He’d probably just pull you closer, lay on you and go back to sleep to be so honest; he can order takeout for the two of you later

- He tangles himself with you like unbrushed hair. His legs and arms are all wrapped around you and he’s trying to get as close to you as possible and his breath is tickling your neck with how much he nudges his head against you and gives you a quick kiss before he goes back to sleep

- His bedhead usually isn’t messy because he doesn’t move a lot in his sleep but after last night his hair is more messy than usual because of how much he’s pushing his head against you lol

- Even if you wake up he won’t let you get up. Go back to bed, he missed you; he just kisses you until you give up but if you’re hungry he’ll order something from his phone

- Likes if you trace parts of his body while you’re laying down like his collarbones or running your thumb down his chest. Keep it below the head though, otherwise the ticklish feeling will bother him while he’s trying to sleep (he’s such a princess 🙄)

- Is actually pretty chill about the whole thing; it was only a matter of time in his opinion and will be a little confused if you’re super embarrassed because you’ve already made out before it’s not that crazy

- He thinks the situation is pretty simple honestly he’s just gonna invite you on dates and confess which does admittedly take a bit of time because he wants to do something special and you’re a little nervous when he doesn’t confess or anything but when he does it makes the wait 100% worth it

CAEL / YE XUAN (叶瑄）

- SCENARIO: OKAY. I’ve thought about this one deeply because Cael is like I think a confirmed virgin so he would have to be suuuperr close with you to want to hook up. So in my delusional little head you are a very old friend of his who helped him basically raise MC. You weren’t formally her step parent but you helped out where you could and ended up becoming close with the two. At first Cael was just grateful to have you for help and as a dear friend but as time went on he started to notice you more and more. You lived together and seeing you do random domestic things or just normal mundane things like doing laundry or gardening or sth was driving him insane. It just built up and randomly one day when you were getting ready for the day he suddenly kissed the back of your neck and confessed and things just escalated

- You wake up first and Cael is just lying so peacefully. He’s never felt more refreshed to be honest

- His bedhead is a little messy but it’s not really noticeable except for the bangs and he snores but he doesn’t really drool, doesn’t move much either; moves in between long intervals

- You run your fingers through his hair and kiss his forehead as he sleeps and you notice him crack a smile (he woke up a few minutes after you but he wanted to see what you’d do while he slept so he could tease you later)

- He loves it when you hold his face in your hands. His cheeks heat up and he has a small smile as he opens his eyes; such a small form of affection makes him feel so warm inside and he can’t help it

- He’d take your hands in his and kiss them then leading you to the kitchen so you can make breakfast together

- After all. That his infatuation is boosted like x10 like he starts drawing you just doing normal activities, thinking about you while in the middle of a battle among many other things

- However, he hasn’t slept with you since that night because he’s really worried

- He doesn’t really know how nor does he think he should pursue a committed relationship with you because tbh he could die at any moment and he has enough responsibility as is; it sounds harsh but he doesn’t want to have to worry about you and vice versa. It’ll take a lot of convincing and persistence to get him to realize that no matter what you’ll be by his side and that you want to take care of him and MC too— that you will always care about him no matter how much he distances himself

[tracer85s]

translations (2)

translations of videos/audios.

cr. to translators in the links

are you even human?

be serious or else don’t compliment me

both sides of your face are very good looking

boyfriend strength

can you not leave? i’m begging you

can you sign your name and give it to me?

does it hurt?

does your heart ache

don’t touch me

don’t blow cold air then if your stomach is upset

dragonboat festival photoshoot

eat two bowls

everyday you message with wechat for men

gaesaekkiya

give me your hand

heart guns

he got thinner

his tactics are just so old fashioned

how can an adult let themself go hungry

i feel these 4 months is just almost over

if you want to laugh then laugh

i’m taking off my pants

i asked yb if he’ll get angry if i call him that and he said yes so i’ll continue calling him that

i really like it

i was wrong

i was wrong, lao wang

i wasn’t trying to get it on you

i won’t eat either

i won’t let you cry

i’ll hide you

i’ll just rely on you zhan-ge

i’m begging you, yibo-ge

i’m not eating too

i’m not looking directly at him

i’m not talking about wwx, i’m talking about xz

i’m sorry, zhan-ge

i still have to ask hanguang jun to protect this weak man

i swear to the heavens

it’s as big as described

it’s coming again

it’s raining

i used to see you as my lifelong soulmate

jeoriga

fine how about princess snow white

first buy a motorcycle

f*ck

flowers

just tease him right?

lan zhan! look at me

lao wang, i’m sorry

love you?

lwj uses his hand to grab you from the side

lwj brings wwx wine

must be handsome

nasal stick bts

no, don’t poke there it’s ticklish

once i hit it till it’s ruined

protect me my ass

pumping

push yourself to me too

rock paper scissors

since you have a cold, why don’t you rest a bit?

so tight today

squatting

stay still, don’t touch it

sunbae

taro! taro

the age saga: i don’t think anyone thinks that you’re ‘91

the age saga: you’re already this old

the pool has leaves floating in it

the wontons you’re talking about...

the wound from your stomach

today why does my face look so fat

turns out you’re this kind of person

wang laoshi doesn’t look at the script

watching together

we can go take a bath

when i’m in front of him i seem like a weak woman

when you are aggressive towards me on set

whatever you want me to do, i’ll do it

why did you hit me?

why do i have to listen to his confession?

wontons

wow, gay-gay like

wow, you’re bloated

xnine xiao zhan

xz singing everytime

xz: wow! wow

xz: yibo yibo yibo

yb chokes xz

yb’s high heeled shoes

yb putting his wig on

yb showing xz his mosquito bites

yb strokes xz’s head

yb: wow xiao laoshi

yizhan shaking hands

you are super photogenic okay

you guys went to have something delicious

you look so sexy

your balls

your face is so small it’s like a triangle

your voice is very beautiful, very sweet

you’re the most photogenic

you’re usually the one who takes initiative

you want to play?

you said all day yesterday that you were pretty

you’ve already held your shit in for a long time

[sami-at-ciela]

Prompt 3: Scale

Or: “I was chomping at the bit to write about feeding the Exarch, but then these two dingdongs decided to get serious with each other.”

So much for slow burn. =3= 

Shadowbringers timeline spoilers, probably.

Rhea wasn’t expecting a knock at the door of her suite in the Pendants at this time of night (yes! Night! Finally! Glorious night! Even if she ended up being a weird aether sponge to make it happen). She looked up and scanned carefully to see if the former (?) Warrior of Darkness was making an appearance, but…

Right. Ardbert couldn’t knock even if he wanted to. Poor soul.

“Who is it?” she asked even as she headed to check the peephole in the door.

“Rhea, it’s me,” said the Exarch from the other side.

“What do you want?” Rhea said, partly because she knew better than not to ask and partly by accident.

“I need to discuss something with you in private,” he replied, sounding ever so slightly tense.

“So? I’ll come to the Ocular first thing in the morning,” Rhea grumbled back.

“Rhea, please, this is important-” A disgruntled huff came from the other side of the door. “I’ll admit that it’s not that important, and perhaps we could discuss it in the Ocular for the sake of privacy, but it wouldn’t be the most comfortable place for me to do it. Does that satisfy you?”

Rhea tilted her head at an angle that made her egg earrings bob from her Viera ears, equal parts confused and intrigued. “People are going to talk about this, you know. ‘Did you hear? The Crystal Exarch was knocking on a woman’s door last night! And then she let him in! So scandalous-’”

“Rhea, please!” the Exarch half-whined before regaining his composure. “A yes or no will do.”

“Fine. Come in,” Rhea muttered, opening the door to let her favorite pain in the rear into her room. He entered, and when he hesitated, she added, “Do you want to take your hood off?”

The Exarch sighed. “Might as well, since you ruined my cover earlier. Thank the Twelve no one else saw.” Once the door was shut behind him, he revealed himself.

“So, what’s so important that you had to barge in right before I went to bed?” Rhea asked, taking a seat on her bed.. “I’d really appreciate getting to remove my brassiere at some point. Men just don’t get that-” A beat passed, and her face scrunched up. “Please tell me that’s not what you came here for.”

“N-no, of course not, I wouldn’t dare!” the Exarch sputtered, holding his hands up. He released the gesture, and a quiet mutter escaped his lips: “I’ve already been pressed to your bosom at least twice already.”

Rhea caught the mutter and straight-up cackled, causing the Exarch to jump. “You want another go? C’mon, sit on Momma Rhea’s lap, tell her what’s going on.”

“Rhea, please!” the Exarch full-whined this time, drawing out the syllables in distress. “I assure you, none of that is what I came for. Rather, I… need you to see something. On me.”

“Oh? You want to give me a show instead?” Rhea’s tone became less mocking, partly because she wouldn’t mind at all and partly because she wanted to know what his angle was.

The Exarch grumbled, growing frustrated with all the teasing. “Perhaps this will all make sense if I preface this with the following: please stop sending food back to the Ocular. Alphinaud doesn’t finish his, Alisaie eats like a bird, and then Alisaie in particular thrusts her leftovers at me.”

The mention of the food and Alisaie’s specific insistence on giving her leftovers to the Exarch made Rhea burst out laughing all over again. “Oh, yeah! I told Alisaie to keep an eye on you and make sure you were eating and taking care of yourself while I wasn’t there to nag you about it, because I got the impression that you don’t take care of yourself.”

“What?! What do you even mean by that?” The Exarch’s ears flattened in consternation.

“You work hard and often. Maybe too often. I’ve barely seen you rest since I got here,” Rhea said. “So I’m making sure you’re properly fueled and rested, whether it’s by nagging you, or having Alisaie do so.” The Exarch seemed to pout, folding his arms, only for Rhea to coo at him, “Aww, you made that pouty face back in the Source too!”

“I appreciate the concern,” he growled. “But now I have a concern.” He unfolded his arms, giving Rhea a view of his robes. “Does my robe appear to be hanging… differently to you?”

Rhea squinted. “Are you seriously asking me if your dress makes you look fat?” A surprisingly pointed look jolted her out of teasing mode. “Whoa, geez! For the record, no, I don’t see anything different. You look like the same cryptic stranger you’ve been this whole time.” She had a feeling that his ears could steam, they would.

The Exarch raised his crystal hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose to relieve tension. “You’re right. It’s probably too hard to see anything with this on.” He then promptly began disrobing, causing Rhea’s mouth to hang open. When all was done and his robe hit the floor, he put his hands on his hips and looked her dead in the eyes. “How about now?”

Rhea stared as she scanned him over. She remembered how he looked when they’d met in the Source (perhaps from looking at him a bit too often), and even if he’d supposedly gained weight, she still thought he looked thinner. Drawing her attention more, however, was the spread of crystal inclusions across his body. There was, of course, the large area ensconcing his shoulder, neck, and right arm, but there were smaller streaks along his sides, almost giving the illusion of stripes. Mysteriously, his legs were free from crystal, and they were perfectly good, muscular legs that almost made Rhea think about what part of him she wanted to touch first. “Come here,” she said, after mouthing the words silently once.

He tilted his head, then approached, his lips pursed.

Rhea raised her hand, hesitating before resting it on his chest and stroking downward to his stomach, an area mostly free of crystal. He shuddered, and she pulled her hand away. “Oh, uh, sorry.”

“No, no, that’s nothing,” the Exarch murmured. “It… feels nice.”

“Is that so?” Tilting her head, Rhea rested her hand on his stomach once more, then traced over to his side, at which point he jolted again. “Ticklish?”

“Maybe a little.” A thin smile spread across his lips. “Forgive me. Sometimes… the skin that still feels longs for a touch that is not fabric.”

“Honey, you’re fine,” Rhea said, “honey” slipping out of her mouth somewhat by accident. “You’re still a man. No, you’re still a person. I can only imagine how lonely you’ve been. It makes sense that you, not your skin, want a little intimacy now and then.”

“Ah… I suppose you’re right,” he said, lowering his head. “I promise that isn’t why I came here. I wouldn’t dare abuse your trust for something like that. So…” He swallowed nervously. “Do I look fatter to you?”

“Not at all.” Rhea shook her head. “Obviously I don’t know where you were at when I got here, but you look fine, okay? Maybe even like you could use a few more loaves of the mushbread or whatever that was.”

“Never again,” the Exarch blurted out. If he wasn’t blushing before, he certainly was now, looking off to the side as the pink in his cheeks highlighted the blue of the crystal on his face. “Very well… thank you, Rhea. I couldn’t ask anyone else to do this.”

“Wait. Don’t go anywhere.” A small but tender smile spread across Rhea’s lips. “I… wouldn’t mind if you got comfortable here for a while.”

“Ah- really?” His breath caught in his throat.

“I’m not going to force you into it. I’m just giving you an option.” Rhea watched the Exarch carefully. “If it makes you too anxious, don’t do it.”

“I… the truth is…” He sucked in a deep breath and released it. “I would like to. I would very much like to, but I feel as though I’m breaking the rules of our engagement, or… something to that effect.”

“G’raha, I offered,” Rhea said, and she thought he twitched at the mention of his old name. “In fact, let me make it clearer for you: I would be happy if you made yourself comfortable, even if you crawled in bed with me, even if you asked me to rub your head and make you feel good. How’s that?”

The Exarch swallowed nervously once more. “That’s more detailed than you originally specified, but I’m not complaining. Would you do those things for me?”

Rhea scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Just get over here. Want me to tuck you in?”

“N-no, that’s fine,” he muttered as he slid under the covers and turned onto his back, looking up at Rhea expectantly, almost pleading.

“There you go.” Rhea went under the covers next to the Exarch, drawing him close and positioning herself to rub his head. With gentle motions she stroked through his hair, periodically massaging his scalp or scratching behind an ear. A soft hum not unlike purring escaped him, and the pleasant sound nearly lulled her into drowsiness until a whimper broke it. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong,” the Exarch murmured. “I haven’t felt like this in so long… warm, cared for, connected, secure. It’s…” He sniffed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d end up quite so emotional.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Rhea stared at the Exarch, and he looked so vulnerable in that moment that she felt compelled to act. She put both arms around him and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. “I want you to feel cared for.”

“I…” He turned over onto his side, his face tense from what Rhea guessed was trying to hold back tears. “Forgive me for being selfish. If you can’t do this for me, I understand… but I would like more. A proper kiss, like the one you gave me now, but on my lips.”

A brief silence passed as Rhea mulled the request over. As much as she loved to tease the Exarch and bully him about the stupid things he’d done to her and her friends, she found herself concerned and wanting to care for him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to punch him for soul-napping my friends, do what he wanted, and get out. Why is he so easy to forgive?

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, lingering for a precious few seconds before parting. Her hand rose to his chest, where she felt the pleasant yet quickening beats of his heart.

“Please, allow me one more indulgence, just for the sake of saying it- take it how you will…” The Exarch’s voice went low. “I love you.”

Rhea stared at him, the words zapping her like a sharp, potent spell. She felt she had mere seconds to put her feelings in order. Could she say she loved him back? Did she love him at all? What were her real motives for caring for him?

Then again, what need was there to say anything when she could let her actions speak for her?

She lowered herself to kiss him once more, adjusting herself so that she could be over him without pressing her weight on him.

The Exarch had closed his eyes at that moment. He slowly opened them, looked into the eyes of the wonderful woman above him, and smiled. A beat passed. “You know, this position is kind of…”

“Hmm?” It took Rhea a moment to realize that she was in a rather compromising position. “Oh.” Another beat passed. “Do you want to…?”

There was a lengthier pause as the Exarch thought the implications over. “I don’t know. Do you?”

“Only if you want to.”

“I don’t know,” he repeated.

“Maybe not now, then.” Rhea repositioned herself so she was back at his side. “It’s okay.”

The Exarch exhaled through his nose, reaching to hold Rhea’s hand in his, making sure he used the flesh one and not the crystal one. “I am happy,” he murmured.

Rhea gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m glad.”

A few quiet minutes passed, and Rhea used her free hand to stroke the Exarch’s head once more. Suddenly, he chuckled. “How did we get here? I was just coming in to ask you a personal question…”

Smiling, she gave his hair a ruffle. “I don’t think that’s important.” She paused, then added, “Look, one of these days, if we have a moment between all this crap, we’re going to have a proper date. I’m going to get some amazing chocolate, and I’m going to spoil you rotten with as many treats as you’d like.”

“So much for me being worried about tipping the scales!” He leaned back into her touch. “But I think I can handle a little pampering.”

“Please. One night of wining and dining won’t turn you into those Miqo- those Mystel from Eulmore. I think you’ll like it.” Dulia-Chai is kind of cute in her own way though, Rhea mused as she mentally prepared a shopping list for the date.

“I’ll look forward to it,” the Exarch said before glancing towards the door. “I… should probably leave when no one is around to see me do so.”

“I’m sure they’ve got security out here, not to mention the person at the front desk. I think we’re busted no matter what,” Rhea said. “Might as well stay the night, if you would like to?”

“I would like to,” the Exarch said with a nod. “You ought to get comfortable as well. And…” A smirk crossed his face. “I promise I won’t look when you remove your brassiere.”

It took Rhea a moment to remember where that came from, and she broke out into giggles. “That’s up to you, hon, though I don’t think you’ll be able to see me in the washroom from here.” She got out of bed, went to the wardrobe to pull out some pajamas, and turned around to flash the Exarch a wink. “Don’t make any trouble while I’m gone!”

“I’ll behave myself,” he replied with a grin.

As Rhea prepared for sleep with an unexpected companion, she tried to sift through her emotions and determine how she truly felt about tonight’s episode. She could not bring herself to admit that she loved him in any way, which concerned her. Still, she had decided firmly on one course of action.

I will hold him close, keep him safe, and give him all the care he could ever want.

[freddiesaysalright]

Dancing With Ben Week 11

A Ben Hardy x Reader Fic Redemption Week - Jive 2.0

Summary: Reader is one of the pro dancers on Dancing With the Stars. It’s her second season on the show, and this time, her partner is none other than Ben Hardy. Will they win the Mirror Ball? Maybe they’ll win something even more meaningful!

Word Count: 3.5K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @twigleektribute23, @ionlyhavepicturesofflowers, @asquiresofftime, @caborhapch, @iwasnothingbutacityboy, @a-kind-of-magik, @anxious-diabetic, @royalblueviper, @toms-irish-girl, @doingalrightt, @borhapqueen92, @angiefangirlworld-2, @ziggymay, @pink-lemo, @riddikuluslypotter, @wearewiththebands, @i-was-born-like-this, @prince-lucifer-v, @mariekuuuuuh, @teenwolflover28, @minigranger, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls, @theprettyfandom, @sam-mercurry-sixx, @reddies-stanlon, @irlkell, @deakyismydad, @kimmietea, @lelifesaver, @simmisblog, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @kyleetheeditor, @painkiller80, @bensrhapsody, @rrrogahtaylahhhh, @multisuperbananas This story is almost over, but if you’d like to be tagged for the last couple parts, let me know!

A/N: So! Some fun stuff in this one! I included a fun dance for rehearsal since the routine they’re doing is a repeat! I like fun new dance content y’all. Also, a lil BoRhap reunion in this one! Hope y’all enjoy!

Week 1  Week 2  Week 3  Week 4  Week 5 Week 6  Week 7  Week 8  Week 9  Week 10

Week 11 here we go!!!

“We made it to the semi-finals!” you cried excitedly, hugging Ben as you entered rehearsal together. “Can you believe it?”

“Hardly!” he returned through a laugh. “We’ve been working so hard, and it feels like it’s really paying off.”

“I know!” you said. “I’m so proud of you, I could scream!”

“Please don’t scream,” he chuckled.

“I won’t, but oh my God! This is amazing!”

You beamed at each other for a moment.

“So, what’s this week’s dance?” he wondered.

“I actually don’t know,” you told him. “This week is the week we re-do a dance we did earlier this season to show how much you’ve improved. One of the judges will meet us here and will tell us which dance they’d like to see us do again.” 

“I hope they choose the waltz,” he said.

You chuckled. “But we just did that one.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but I really loved it.”

“Me too,” you agreed. “But until the mystery judge gets here, I brought some friends to keep us company during rehearsal today.”

His brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Come in, guys!” you called.

Through the door came Rami, Joe, and Gwilym. The latter two had flown in to see the semi-finals and finals of the show and support Ben. They were certain he’d make it to the finals and wanted to be in the audience this week and next. Ben gave a cry of delight and leapt into their collective arms. They all laughed as they embraced him and told him what a great job he was doing. Joe and Rami came over to say hello to you again, hugging you and pecking your cheek. Then Gwilym approached to introduce himself.

“Gwilym Lee,” he said, extending his hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you replied. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“You as well,” he returned. “Ben hardly shuts up about you in our group chat, so I’m excited to see you in person.”

You laughed. “That’s funny, he hardly shuts up about the three of you to me.”

Ben bear hugged Gwilym from behind and kissed his neck.

“Thank you for coming all this way,” he murmured. 

Gwil patted his arm softly and smiled. “Of course, Ben. We wouldn’t miss it.”

“What dance are you doing this week?” Joe wondered.

You explained to him what you had explained to Ben about it being a redemption week, so neither of you knew yet. 

“I hope it’s the salsa,” Rami said. “Maybe you’d get to come back, Joe.”

“I don’t know if my body could take that,” Joe laughed. “That was tough. Although, Y/N is a wonderful teacher.”

“Thank you, Joe,” you returned. “You’re an excellent student.”

You all chatted for a bit while you waited for whichever judge to come in. After about ten minutes or so, you hear the door open.

“Knock, knock,” came the voice of Len Goodman.

“Len!” you cried.

He came over and shook hands with you and Ben. He offered a little wave to the rest of the boys. Then he smiled widely at you and your partner.

“Well, I am glad to see you two,” he said kindly. “And I’m glad I’m your special coach this week. You two have done so well and are at the top of the leaderboard. Oh, and congratulations on making it to the semi-finals.”

You and Ben both thanked him.

“This week, the other judges and I want to see you dance your jive again,” he continued. “We thought your jive was great, but now that you’re a real dancer, you can make it outstanding.”

“Okay,” you said with an excited clap. “I’m ready to get started.”

“Just a moment,” Len said. “You’ve brought some friends, but I’ve also brought friends of my own.”

You and Ben exchanged a confused glance.

“Not to worry, Ben,” Len said. “You’ve met them before. Please say hello to Brian May, Roger Taylor, and Adam Lambert!”

“Shut the fuck up!” you yelled, your hands covering your mouth right after.

The three men walked through the door of the studio and your heart skipped several beats. You thought you might pass out. You actually stumbled but Ben caught you. When you were steady, he joined the other boys in greeting the band. You looked at Len, dumbfounded.

“Wh - how?” you wondered.

“They’re all in town and they offered to come and play the song for you and Ben to dance to,” he explained.

You gave Len a hug and then watched while Ben, Rami, Gwil, and Joe talked with the band. Your heart fluttered again, and you weren’t sure what to do. Your thirteen-year-old self’s head was exploding at the idea of being in the same room as Roger Taylor. 

“Y/N, get over here,” Ben said. “Say hello.”

On shaky legs, you approached. You shook each of their hands and they introduced themselves. 

“Hello,” you choked out. When had you gotten emotional?

Ben wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed. “Queen’s music means a lot to her.”

“It does?” wondered Roger. 

“Yeah,” Ben said. He looked at you and gently nudged you. “Tell them.”

“Oh, it’s...not important,” you said. 

“That’s not true,” Ben replied. “Go on, tell them.”

You cleared your throat. “Well, um, my parents met at a Queen concert, so I was raised on the music. My mother passed unexpectedly, and your music was always my way of feeling close to her.”

“What a lovely sentiment,” Brian said. 

You nodded. “I’m honestly in shock that I’m even here with you guys right now. I mean, growing up I was this oddball because my friends were all into Justin Beiber and Zac Efron, and I had Roger Taylor on my ceiling.”

They laughed at that. Then they hugged you and you thought your heart might explode because holy shit you were hugging Brian May and Roger Taylor. 

You looked at Adam. “And you’re honestly amazing!”

He hugged you as well. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“Well, you’ve got a bit of an audience, I think it’s time to start rehearsal,” said Len.

The boys and the band moved to the side. You looked at Ben. 

“How much of the jive do you remember?” you asked. 

“All of it,” he said. 

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “All of it?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “You don’t believe me?”

“Not for a second, Hardy,” you said. 

“Wanna bet?” he challenged. 

“Fine,” you returned. “If I win...I get to tell Joe where you’re ticklish.”

“She knows where you’re ticklish?!” Joe cried indignantly. 

“Fine,” Ben agreed with a smirk, ignoring Joe. “If I win, you have to do the routine you did to Body Language when you were captain of your college dance team.”

The others chuckled.

You mouth fell open. “How do you know about that?!”

“Your dad showed me the video,” he returned. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Bring it, Hardy.”

He laughed. “Let’s go.”

You started the music. You felt pretty confident initially because you did the jive so long ago. Ben had to miss a step. But as you danced, you got nervous. He was doing really well. You briefly considered tripping him or something but you didn’t want to play dirty. If you were going to win it was going to be fair and square. 

You suddenly remembered when you were first teaching Ben this dance and you had missed a step. He had teased you for it at the time - and a few times since then - and his eyes teased you now, as if he were remembering it as well. You focused. 

Sadly, you lost the bet. Ben did know the entire jive routine from start to finish and performed it well. When the last notes of the song played, you huffed irritably. He laughed as he backed away toward the wall with the rest of your “audience” in rehearsal. Of course, you were doing this on a day when there were tons of guests in the room. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this in front of Roger and Brian,” you grumbled. 

“Shouldn’t have doubted me then,” he replied. 

“Okay, let the record show, I was a VERY amateur choreographer at the time and I only did half these moves because there was a boy on the football team whose attention I wanted.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” you snapped. “And I gotta say - worked like a charm.”

He frowned and you headed to the other end of the studio with a little smirk of your own. You started the music, this time with Body Language and began.

The routine was only a minute or so, and was sexy in an almost silly way. It was a lot of pelvic thrusts and hair flips instead of real choreography, but at the time, it was a big moment for you because it was your first routine you had ever choreographed on your own. You were not nearly as proud of it now. 

As you danced, though, you couldn’t help but smile, despite the slight embarrassment you felt at performing this in front of members of Queen. It was funny because Ben’s idea was backfiring a bit. He swallowed as he watched you, and heat rose to his cheeks. You lost the bet, but you couldn’t help feeling just a bit victorious. 

When you finished, everyone clapped as you took a sarcastic bow. Laughing, you made your way over to them.

“Well, that would certainly have my attention when I was that age,” Roger joked. 

“Like I said, it worked,” you replied. 

“The guy went out with you?” Gwilym asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah. But then he ghosted me shortly after. Not to worry, though, I got him back.”

“How?” asked Joe eagerly.

“Oh, no,” you said. “I’m not telling that story with cameras on me.”

Joe and Ben both opened their mouths to ask more, but Len interrupted.  

“Enough messing about,” he said. “We’ve got a dance to perfect.”

You nodded in agreement, and he started giving feedback on the dance again. He offered suggestions about how you could add to the routine here and there to make it more advanced now that Ben was a better dancer. When you incorporated them, you could tell it made the routine a lot stronger. It really showed what Ben had learned. 

Also, you added a gap where you and Ben would rest while Brian played the guitar solo. Brian insisted that wasn’t necessary, but you cut him off. 

“Sorry, Brian, but it’s too iconic,” you joked. “Legally, we have to let you play it.”

He chuckled and didn’t argue anymore. After a while, Brian, Roger, and Adam left to do their own rehearsal, but not before they all told you how great the dance was. Ben’s castmates stayed. They said a fond goodbye to the band though, and you thanked them again for doing this for you. 

When rehearsal was over, the guys were making plans to go to dinner. 

“Y/N, you wanna come?” Joe wondered. 

“Oh, you guys can catch up,” you said, although you were sad about losing the time with Ben. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not at all,” Gwilym assured you. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Rami added. “Lucy’s meeting us at the restaurant as well.”

You found Ben’s eyes and he gave you a pleading look. You smiled. 

“Alright,” you agreed. 

As you all took seats around a table at the restaurant, greeting Lucy as you went, Joe looked at you. 

“Alright, I wanna hear the story of how you got that guy back who ghosted you,” he said. 

“Oh, God, I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,” you groaned. 

“I want to hear this story as well,” Ben said, looking at you. 

You sighed. “Okay, this is super embarrassing, but that guy was my first time. He took my virginity, then he didn’t talk to me for four days, when I saw him at a party. He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him and started flirting with his friend. Later in the night, I literally looked him in the eyes while I took his friend upstairs.”

“Holy shit!” Joe cried, an amused smile on his lips. 

“That’s amazing,” Lucy said. 

“The funniest part is that I didn’t even sleep with his friend,” you said. “I just made him think I did. And they’re still not friends.”

You took a triumphant sip of your drink as they laughed. You enjoyed the rest of dinner with them, laughing and joking as you held Ben’s hand under the table. You were so grateful to go into the final weeks of the competition with such support. Ben’s friends were incredible. 

That night, as you lay beside him, your mind ran wild. You were having so much fun with Ben, and his friends, but their arrival just hit home yet again that your time together was dwindling down. You were at the bottom of the hourglass. You looked over at his sleeping form, his chest rising and falling evenly in his sleep, and tried to imagine sleeping without him there beside you. Your heart broke at the thought. 

The next day, you had Ben all to yourself in rehearsal. It was nice. You adored everyone who was at rehearsal the previous day, but you truly treasured your time just together now. He was doing really well since he remembered the routine and you were only having to make slight adjustments. 

Dress rehearsal and camera blocking was super fun since you got to rehearse with Queen and Adam playing for you. The other remaining couples were jealous of your celebrity performers. They were incredibly kind to everyone and signed a few autographs for people. You had already gotten one for your father. As well as several selfies. 

As quickly as it started, the week was over. It was showtime again. This showtime was a lot more exciting since you’d be dancing with Queen and Adam Lambert, but still it felt like time was slipping away from you. 

You and Ben were dancing first because the band had to leave before the show ended to catch a flight. Your video package was entertaining because you got to see just how shocked you looked to see the band, even if they did have to bleep out a few words. You smiled at Ben before taking your places. Then you started.

 Dancing with Queen playing felt like a dream come true. And the fact that it was with Ben made it all the dreamier. You dance to your favorite band, with your favorite person in your arms. When you took the break for Brian to play, you couldn’t hold back the yell of support for his talent as you pumped your fist in the air. Ben laughed at you, but quickly recovered to dance again. When you finished, the audience went crazy for the band. Claps and screams and whistles drowned out the ballroom. You and Ben were just as enthusiastic as Brian, Roger, and Adam took a few bows. 

When it all died down, you and Ben waited for the judges remarks. Len went first since he was your coach for this one. 

“Well done to Queen and Adam, I must say,” he began with a nod to the band. “And you two. Well, it was just fantastic. I mean, you just blew me away. The foot work, your frame, the content of the dance, it was all perfect. Ben, no matter what happens, you’ve won this competition.”

The audience all cheered, and you heard Joe’s voice above the others scream that he loved Ben. Ben laughed and blew him a kiss. 

“Ben!” Bruno cried. “The first time you did this dance, we knew you were a serious competitor. Now, you are looking like a champion! Like Len said, your technique was incredible and you really looked like you were having the time of your life out there. Well done, my boy, well done.”

“I’m always having the time of my life with Y/N,” Ben replied, squeezing your shoulder.

You giggled and kissed his cheek while the audience fawned over you. 

“You guys are so sweet,” said Carrie Ann during her turn. “Ben, you have proven, week after week, just how much you belong in this competition. And you just proved it again. Perfect, perfect dance, Ben. And if you’re not in the finals then I’m gonna - I dunno - riot in the streets.”

You all laughed. Tom instructed you to head to the skybox to get your scores. Erin greeted you warmly. 

“You guys!” she cried. “That was amazing! What was it like to dance with Queen playing for you?”

“Oh, it’s - I feel like I don’t even have words,” Ben said. “Do you?”

You shrugged. “No, not really! It was so amazing!”

“So, Y/N, I wanna ask you,” she said. “You’ve been to this point in the competition before. What do you feel like is different between now and then?”

You considered that. “Well, that’s tough to say. Dancing with Ben is different because we have a connection that is hard to describe. Not that James and I weren’t connected - we were - but Ben is just easy. We dance together and it feels natural and fun and perfect. He’s...everything I could ever hope for in a partner and friend.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him close to you. He grabbed your head and kissed the top of it. 

“You’re perfect, baby,” he murmured, his mouth avoiding the mic. “I love you.”

“That is so sweet,” Erin said, responding to your words as you broke away from Ben. “This partnership has been such a joy to watch. You guys ready for your scores?”

You both nodded and looked anxiously at the judges.

“Ten!” Carrie Ann cried, holding up the paddle. 

“From Len,” Len said. “A ten!”

“Ten!” Bruno added with a punch to the air. 

“Another perfect score!” Erin said excitedly. “Ben, what does all of this mean to you?”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “I can’t - I can hardly believe this. I owe it all to Y/N for being patient with me and supporting me and just being the greatest teacher.” 

He cradled your face in his hands and pressed his forehead to yours as you both grinned. 

“I can’t say it enough, you two are adorable,” Erin said. “Back to you, Tom!”

Tom took the show to commercial. The rest of the show went great and the other couples were amazing, but you and Ben were still at the top of the leaderboard. 

At the end of the show, nerves turned your stomach. This was it. If you and Ben survived elimination, you would be finalists. You stood on the stage, holding Ben tightly to you again. You knew that the show was almost over anyway, but even just one more week with Ben was important to you. Every second felt vital. 

“The first couple to dance in the finale is…” Tom began, and he announced Emma and her partner. 

Ben squeezed you again. 

“The second couple going to the finale is…” Erin said. She announced Alan and his partner. 

You rubbed Ben’s back and gripped his jacket. It was down to you and Ben and Witney and her partner. They had been trailing you all competition. And they had loads of support on social media. You were actually worried.

“And the final couple heading to the finale, to dance for the coveted mirror ball trophy is…” said Tom. 

You buried your face in Ben’s chest. Could this be it? Could you really have made it this far only to lose now? You weren’t ready to say goodbye. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“Ben and Y/N!”

You were so relieved, you could only grip Ben tighter. He released a sigh and lifted you off your feet. You were thankful he did because you feared you might collapse. Tears escaped your eyes and trailed down your cheeks, but Ben gently wiped them away as you both laughed. The roar of the audience sounded quiet compared to the thundering of your heart. You had one more week at least.

As Tom closed the show you and Ben went over to say goodbye to Witney and her partner. They said a kind congratulations to you and Ben.

Then Joe, Rami, and Gwilym were upon you, hugging you and Ben and also shouting their congratulations. You were excited to go to the finale, and the idea of winning the mirror ball was thrilling. But there was still a bittersweetness there. You had one more week together, yes. But that was all you had.

[iraniq]

Fuzzy

part II

https://iraniq.tumblr.com/post/613580215745167360/fuzzy

< I forgot to mention when i post part 1 - that’s dedicated to all people who see themselfes as not good enough for some reason, i see me fat, that’s why i rote it from that perspective ... ya’ll worthy tho! > 

*

The next thing I know is how there are gun shots all over the place, I think I saw blood on the sheets, I fell off the bed and roll under. So shocked that I couldn't even scream. 

I had no idea how long I was under the bed. Suddenly I heared his voice.

  - Fluffy? Oh, Fluffy... Where are you?

I knew it was him, it was his voice... But what if, someone was pretending to be him. I stayed quiet.

  - Could she ran away?

  - No Ser! I was right outside and didn't saw anyone. 

  - Are you sure... 

  - Yes!

It got quiet outside. A sharp light blinded me.

  - Here you are! - he grabbed my hand and dragged me outside. I was still shaking and made several steps back. He was squeezing me, but let go. - Come on... - he opened his hands for me, holding a gun. - Daddy isn't scary anymore, come ‘ere! - I hesitated but slowly walked to him. He hugged me with his free hand. 

  - See sir, she was just scared of you. - the man said. This one wasn't the usual one who accompany him. 

The Joker started breathing more heavy, he squeezed me tighter and stepped a little left. Another gun shot was heared. Then a thud of a gun on the furry carpet. He hugged me even tighter. 

  - It's OK, no one will scare you now! 

We stayed like this for several seconds, then he motioned me where to go, ordering me not to look back, because of the blood.

We were in his car, the day was rainy,  and he was driving through the nothing. 

  - Are you OK? I think I saw blood on the sheets. – I barely mumbled with a still shaking voice.

  - What... 

  - Are you, all right.

  - Yes... Yes I am. 

  - Did someone tried to kill you? 

  - No...

  - Then what happened?

He was looking at the road, but his thoughts were speeding elsewhere.

  - I had a nightmare.

  - Am... I am sorry to hear this. - we were silent for a while - Where did you take the gun from?

  - Under the pillow.

  - You sleep with a gun under your pillow?

  - There are attempts for my Death through the past 10 years... Even before I got that famous. - he looked at me winking.

  - The road. - I screamed. 

  - Chill ... I know this road. 

  - But it is raining now...

  - So? You question my driving skills?

  - Why do you think it is always about you, why always must be against you what I say? I just mentioned that it's raining and...

  - It might be slippery. I know. I am paying attention to the road, although you are not helping much. 

  - I am sorry... I will be quiet. - I mumbled.

  - It's not your words that bother me, it's your looks.

I tried to cover my fat belly with the jacket I had.

  - You are welcome... 

I frowned my eyebrows.

  - For the compliment. 

' He complimented my body... that's it, I must be dead now! '

We were quiet a little bit more... He suddenly hit the breaks.

  - No! - He looked at me. And pulled my jeans jacket. I had a light knee long silk night dress.

  - What... Let go … - I pulled it back.

  - I meant your half naked tits... – he has this nervous tic to slick back his hair, even when it’s ok - Whoever speaks to you like this I will shoot them!

  - The ones who... speak to me like you do... - I was confused, and more ashamed than scared.

  - No...- he finally let go of the jacket and let me cover. - Whoever told you you weren't good looking.

  - Well... It's a long story.

  - Ugh... Spare me the suffer... - he rolled his eyes, got out and opened the door for me. - Come! - he demanded. He played a song on his phone and we danced. He had hugged me and we slowly swinged. I could feel him enjoying the hug, but he was trying to make it less obvious.

Several songs later. It turned cold and we had to stop. 

  - What... Why are you shivering? - he growled.

  - It's cold and I am mostly naked.

  - Fat won't keep you warm? - he laughed.

  - Unpopular opinion, but fat on humans don't keep it that warm, as on amimals... - I smiled.

He hugged me again and rubbed my back. 

  - Do you want my Jacket?

  - You don't have one on you. - I laughed.

  - Ugh... Jump back in the car then. - he slapped my but.

We went in, he put the heat on. And rubbed my thigh, I jumped. - Chill... - he got my hand in his. - The rape think was to scare you... I won't - he let go of my hand. - I might be anything, but 2 things I am not - rapist abd pedophile.

I smiled. 

  - Yes... I am actually ticklish, that's why I jumped... But it's good to know this. - I blushed. He winked at me.

He drove us back to his place. It was dark already. He let me in the kitchen to make us some food. After I was done he invited me in the bathroom. There was a bathtub ready and a table. I took my clothes off and settled in front of him. He put the wooden panel on the bathtub, so we could eat while taking a bath.

  - Please … - he hugged me - don't drop food in the tub! – he said that almost purring and I’d lie if I saw I wasn’t turn on.

I giggled. 

He put shampoo in my hair and washed it.

  - Why are you so gentle with me? - I felt deeply attracted and connected to him, becauset still I didn't knew him and from what others say and he didn't exactly deny, he wasn't a nice person. 

  - Well... Maybe because I want to.

I turned to face him. His hair was wet, and so green.

  - It looks more green when wet. - I reached to touch it, but remembered what he said before. - May I?

He nodded his head and I dug my fingers through the green hair, slicking it back. I smiled, then I ruffled it and laughed. 

  - Hey... - he slicked it back.

  -  I love this color... 

  - Green, or bright neon colors.

  - Can I pick both?

He smiled. Then he frowned.

  - Off! - he ordered in a harsh voice. I turned my back at him. - Off the tub! - he shouted and I jumped out, in the process I slipped and fell, but got up and ran to the bedroom. 

In like hour, I was still lying naked, covered in a sheet and reading a book, he had on his night stand - Terry Pratchett - Mort. I had started it several years back, , but never finished it, since it wasn’t mine. He came in, slowly, he was even more pale and his lips were blue. I looked up, but he frowned and I looked away. He slipped under the covers and snuggled. 

  - OH! - I yelled. - You are cold!

-        Dead cold!

-        Yes … - I tried to move away, but he didn’t let me go.

  - The waster was cold. 

  - Well you stayed for an hour. It was expected to be cold at the end. Why didn't you put hot one.

  - I was lazy.

  - Why didn't you call me?

  - You are mad.

  - No, I am not.

  - Yes. You are! 

  - No I am not! - 'is he for real'

  - Because I yelled at you.

  - I am... You want me to be mad at you?

  - You shold!

  - Well I am not... Come. - I put the book away, as he snuggled more in me. - You are naked. - I whispered putting my chin on his forehead.

  - It's not the first time we are both naked in my bed.

  - Don't exactly remember the 1st time. - I joked.

  - Want me to remind you? - he wasn't finished when I felt his hand slipping down on me.

I woke up the next day very sore on many places, with an envelope at the empty pillow next to me. There were money  and a note : he was informing me that he won't be available for the next two weeks, but after I am more than welcome for breakfast... And fun. There was a big kiss

I went home, paid whatever I was supposed to. Get me a second job.

Had a fight with my mother about the "dump" I live in. The lack of proper men in my life. Obviously my mindless and rude ex, who had a prestige job, was a way better choice than someone who actually treats me nice and cares about me... Horay!

The next time I spend the night at he house I woke up by his pissed voice, I jumped off the bed.

  - Where to, sweet patootie?

  - I thought you yelled at me... Lover boy?

He made a low growl.

  - I am loosing at this ... Damn Game!

  - Let me... Stack Ball? I am master at this. - Four levels later, he was dozing off on my shoulder. I accidentaly got out of the game. I saw... My mostly naked body as a wallpaper.

  - A what...

  - What?! - he got up holding a gun.

  - Why do you have a naked picture of me! - I was yelling at the one person even Bats got the chills of.

He looked confused.

  - Why... Do y...

  - I heard you the 1st time sweets, why woudn't I? You are my girlfriend.

  - I am... fat... - I was more shocked he called me 'girlfriend', but I decided not to go that far.

  - And a little bit of your but was hairy whem I took that one. – he laughed like a 5 years old who knows they betray a huge secret by telling it in a joke-ish way.

I felt the tears running down.

  - Why... what's wrong... - he took his pants of - Take a naked picture of me, we will be even. - he threw the phone in my lap.

  -  I am ugly, get this away! - I throw the phone back and the blanket too.

He stood in front of me and squeezed my face in his hand so hard I flinched.

  - You are not. I like what I see, if you don't like it, it's not my problem. I like your orange ass and the wiggly piece of fat on your bellt, it's a nice pillow... What?

  - You are pretty and you like me. - I cried.

  - How many times should I repeat this so you'd believe me?! Because it's getting annoying, and I might end up killing you... Which would be a shame, you are exellent breakfast biddy and a pillow. - he wiped my tears - At some point I will get tired of this and kick you away. I will find me s skinny blond dumb bitch.

- Hey ... blond girls are smart too ...

- I know … - he squeezed my cheek.

- You will be bored... - I joked.

  - I will... - he lyed on me again - now play that game, and win me a nice record. Definetly higher than yours.

Soon after he dozzed off again.

Next morning I woke up alone again. When I decided to check how much of a 'mornong' it is, I was met with his almost naked body on my wallpaper. His black pants, unbuttomed and sooo low. A purple shirt, almost off. One hand was... Down there, and it was visible enough what's inside. I figured he took the pic with his free hand … it was a specific angle. It was a one time in life view.

  - You like it sugar pops? I can smell you blush from here! - he laughed. - Just unlock it and see the other one.

  - How about NO! - I threw the phone like it had the plague.

  - Oooh... I made these with love... Is this how you thank me! - his voice was low and pissed.

  - Maybe after breakfast. - I smiled.

  - Fine...

He handed me a bowl of cornflakes, fruits and ypgurt. All breakfast time he spend looking at the bluish clouded sky. The sun was trying to peek behind the clouds, the view was really breathtaking.

I felt anxious. Urged myself to say something.

  - Breathtaking...

  - Yes!

  - The clouds...

  - I know.... - he whined.

Next thing he was squeezing my face, trying to put some food in.

  - I don't luke vegan stuff.

  - I don't like your attitude either! Now eat!

While trying to chew, some run down my chin.

  - Can you not! ... I hate babies.

  - Eww, me too! - I wiped it away.

Don't know what I did, or said, but he laughed till he cried.

It has been several months since I kinda moved there. I learned not to be that intimidated by him, which lead to me talking back quite often. On the other hand this led to huge fights that often ended up with me going to my old place, that I still rented. At some point his jealous-ish and obssed behaviour birthed the idea of setting the place on fire, so I'd have nowhere to leave.

One of his super trusted henchmen was left eyeless. He got them out with a spoon after the poor man said "Hey, Joker whose is that fat brat?" - followed by - "Who'd hate his dick that much!" - I suspect J cut his tongue too. But did't wanted to konow...

Monty... I believe he was... I see him begging on the side street of the boulevards when me and J had midnight car walks. I feel bad for him, although his stupidity wasn't my fault. Sometimes I sneak out and Frost drives me there, I leave him food.

There were no more fuzzy nights, he wasn't drinking or doing drugs, although that was a popular opinion, he had super healthy lifestyle... Did I mentioned he is build like a fucking god! Sometimes I had a glass of wine, or 2 for a mood. He'd joke that before I hit 30 I am already the old fun always drunk auntie, just missing the cats.

He named one of my stretch marks ‘Simon” when I swing around gaining and loosing weight, Simon grows …” Simon says ‘eat’! “ – Joker teases me when he inspects Simon.

I got some extra special treatment besides the hair washing like feet massages and book reading when his insomnia kicks in. Make up real life tutorials – he looks good in purple eye shadow tho. He got my long nails, scratching his hands. His nerves were a little numb by the bleach bath. But he could feel scratch. He got the chills it rather cute, in an odd way. I also colored his dragon tattoo once … he almost overdose on slipping pills once … so I had the chance. He was fine. Just dead asleep.

The most embarassing thing happened like 2 weeks ago. Me and J broke in that councilman's house. We were in the outside jakuzzi when Bats came, ironically we were naked. He, bats, saw my back tities, and I am now sure, if he didn't needed mental help, he will be now. He was as shocked as us. Obvipusly seeing the Joker, the self loving, arrogant, perfectionist, demanding more then the best, mad at the world, with quite almost fat girl was a real shock. Bats just apologized and left. J laughed so much, he almost drowned, drinking half the pool.

J send Bats a letter 2 days after:

" Bats, I an so dissapoined you storm in like that, it took me so long to convince her to hoop in naked in the all glass pool/jakuzzi. Hope you are happy now. I won't get laid tonight because of you. Also... If you try something else besides blond, skinny dumb sluts /yes I know blond girls are smart, duh/, you might have a relationship longer than 17h. Also... The last "lady you took tp the charity ball... Dman man, I won't even get the lil J naked in front of her! You can do better boy billionaire! "

p.s. I am still fat, but I don’t care anymore, I am a Queen and I love me so bad, ask the King!

______________

@diyunho @rhina988 @nikkitasevoli @sougie @lovermrjokerr @darthjokerisyourfather @marsmad @itsmeauntie @echelongaga @brightlightsfanfiction @mj-isback @gemma60 @elliegrace139 @lylabell2013 @pandaliciouz @misscalamiity

sorry if i miss someone 

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Perspective: Eight

“Hey, Baby,” Bruce murmured, half asleep. It had been a long mission. Really long. But now, on the Quinjet headed home, all he could think about was hearing your voice. Despite being exhausted. “Bruce?” you sound wide awake, despite the late hour, “Hey, Handsome. How are you doing? Okay? Are you hurt? You sound wrecked.” 

He chuckles and stretches lazily, “I’m fine, Sweet pea,” he soothes, “Just tired. And missing you.” He can hear you shuffling papers around, “I miss you too, Bruce. I was so worried.” He tuts softly, “Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s okay. The Other Guy is bulletproof. And next to impossible to contain.” You make a soft sound and he smiles a little, “I promise,” he murmured. “Okay,” you answer. There’s silence for a moment and Bruce yawns, “How’s home, sweetheart?” he asked. “It’s home,” you answer non-commitally. “I’ll be there tomorrow,” he reminded you gently. “Yeah,” you answer softly. Bruce can hear the pause and the reluctance. “Bruce,” you say softly, “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. Mom... mom can be difficult to deal with if you’re not used to it.” Bruce frowned, “Y/N, she’s hard for you to deal with and you’re used to it,”  he said gently, “And I better get used to it, honestly because I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon. Not unless you tell me to.” His voice is gentle but firm. Authoritative. He knows what that does to you. 

He knows what it does and he enjoys it as much as you do. When your breath hitches softly he smiles to himself, “I’ll be there at noon. You wear your yellow dress for me, okay?” You shiver but smile, “As you wish,” you tell him softly. “I love you too,” he snorted, “Get some sleep, sweet pea, I’ll text you in the morning.”

 He hangs up the phone to find Clint smirking at him, “Aww,” he teases, “Do you do that thing with your voice on purpose or does it just happen?” Bruce turns pink and coughs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. Clint grins, “You’re secret is safe with me,” he teases, “It’s always the quiet ones.” Tony comes around the corner with Steve, stretching and looking pleased with himself, “The quiet ones what?” Steve asked quirking an eyebrow. “Oh,” Tony gasped, “Did you catch him doing the voice thing again?” Clint chuckled, “ Oh, yeah. Straight told her which dress to wear tomorrow and everything.” Bruce blushed a deeper red and Tony grinned, “The real question is, does the dress have matching pretty underthings he gets to take off.” Bruce sighed, “Guys,” he protested. Clint sprawled next to him lazily, “Banner, relax. Whatever French Vanilla shit you get into in your off time isn’t that big a deal.”

“French Vanilla?” Steve asked Tony, confused. “Mildly Kinky sex that’s just past plain Vanilla,” he explained. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “The phone calls are cute,” Tony teased, “he usually bosses her around a little and sends her to bed like a good girl.” Steve turns pink and coughs, he personally can’t see Bruce bossing anyone around. “I don’t boss her around,” Bruce murmurs. “You sure as hell didn’t ask her to wear a yellow dress,” Clint snorted. “I like that dress,” Bruce said blushing. “What happens if she doesn’t wear it?” Tony needled, “Are you going to ground her?” Bruce knew he was being teased but it still made his stomach twist, “It’s not that kind of situation, Tony,” he said, a note of warning in his voice. 

There was a note of warning in his voice but in his minds eye, he could see you bent over his lap, wiggling and squirming, giggling as he spanked you. He felt warm all over. It was a boundary he had. He didn’t degrade, choke, or slap... but he did love a good spanking. He’d punish you for being a brat. For not taking care of yourself. But any other time, it was to help you relax. Make you feel safe enough that you could let go and let him take care of you.

Tony stretched lazily, “Whatever you say, Brucie bear,” he said. Steve rolled his eyes, “Tony, leave him alone.” Bruce sighed, “Just don’t... don’t tease Y/N about it,” he says, “She’s not. I mean. She’s... I guess.” Steve nodded, “She’s not that kind of girl.” Bruce nodded, blushing. Steve smiled a little. He understood that. He walked that kind of line himself. Not a prude but not open about it either. Tony held up his hands, “I promise,” he said, “You’re the only one I’m going to tease.” Clint hummed in agreement, “Same. I’m not big into kink-shaming cute little twenty-somethings... Dirty old men though.” He grinned when Bruce gave him a look.

“Why are we Kink Shaming Bruce?” Nat asked, walking through filing her nails. “French Vanilla sex,” Tony answered. Nat crinkled her nose, “Ew,” she said, “If you’re gonna get weird at least commit to it.” She winked at Bruce and he chuckled. “So when do we get to actually meet this girl?” she asked changing the subject. Bruce smiled, “As soon as I can... Her schedule and mine make it really hard to coordinate get-togethers. I don't even see her as much as I like to. Especially not while she’s finishing up all her Doctorate stuff.” Nat smiled sympathetically, “You’re still going to see her tomorrow right?” she asked. Bruce nodded, “For a whole week,” he said, “And she’s going to wear her yellow dress tomorrow.” Just thinking about that dress makes his heart stutter. It wasn’t the prettiest dress you owned, but it was his favorite. Like lemon icing and bright daisies, it felt like home as he slid the fabric under his hands. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

___________

When Bruce pulled down the drive in his Rental Car, the house was small and not very well maintained. Dingy white siding and hunter green shutters that had faded to olive drab in the sun. A swing hung off a tree in the front yard and the porch needed a coat of pant and a few new boards. It looked like the type of house you’d grown up in. Even if you were a little taciturn about talking about it.

It was chilly out but the screen door was open, probably to compensate for the heat in the kitchen where you were cooking.  He made his way up the steps and was about to knock when he heard it. “Baby,” Tanya’s voice said, “You really should change. That dress doesn’t do anything for your figure... what little of it you have.” You sigh, “Mama, it’s fine. Bruce likes this dress.” In the doorway of the kitchen Bruce can see the outline of you, standing with your back to him. “Honestly,” Tanya tutted, pinching at your stomach, “have you gained weight again?” You swat her hands away impatiently, “Mama, it’s fine. I actually lost weight... I’m just fat okay? That’s it.” Tanya tutted impatiently, “You wouldn’t be if you’d stick to the diets I give you!” she called as you walked past her. 

Bruce can’t take the sound of your voice. The frustration and the hurt. When you walk out to the porch, he grabs you around the waist and presses a searing kiss into your lips that makes your knees buckle and your head swim. He can taste the salt of the frustrated tears that started running down your cheeks and it makes him angry. You’re fucking brilliant. And Brave. And Kind. Why does it matter if you’re adorably plump as long as you’re healthy? Bruce is aware, at least on the periphery that Tanya is watching and he pulls you closer. Tangling one hand in your hair and grabbing a handful of your ass as he licks into your mouth, desperately trying to drown out her voice in your head. You melt into him, eager and soft, seeking the safety and comfort he’s offering. When Bruce finally comes up for air, he brushes his thumb over your kiss swollen lips and smiles, “You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweet pea,” he murmurs, “God I had dreams about this while I was gone.” You bury your face in his chest blushing and hugging him tight, “I’m glad you’re here. I missed you so much.” Bruce grinned and swatted you lovingly on the bottom, “Oh?” he teased, “Were you having any fun without me?” You smile a little, blushing, “Just to help me sleep. It’s no fun without you.” He tuts softly, “Did it help at least?” You nod and he smiles, “Good girl,” he praises, “Beautiful and Clever.” 

Tanya clears her throat and Bruce at least moves his hand off your ass up to your back, reluctant to actually let you go yet. “Pleased to meet you,” he says offering her the hand that wasn’t on your waist. He gave her his most charming smile and Tanya took his hand, “Well,” she said, “I certainly expected you to be older, Dr. Banner.” she said. You smile, relaxed now that Bruce is here to have your back, “Bruce is very smart, mama,” you tell her, looking up at him, “Top of his field in... well. A lot of fields.” Bruce blushes and kisses your forehead. “If you’re so smart,” Tanya said dismissively, “Why don’t you explain to Y/N how diets work.” 

Bruce frowned and wrapped both arms around you protectively, “I like her as she is,” Bruce said, “And crash diets like you keep sending her don’t work. They’re not designed to work long term.” Tanya frowned, “It figures you’d be a chubby chaser,” she said, “Really, Y/N. You could have a little self-respect.” You sigh, “Well, while you be miserable and eat celery, I’m gonna take Bruce and show him town... We might be back in time for dinner.” 

You take Bruce’s hand and he follows without a word. Getting in the passenger's seat of your car and lacing his fingers through yours as you roll down the drive. “You’re not even fat!” Bruce sputtered, making you laugh. “Mama’s been like that my whole life... She won a beauty pageant once in high school, and after a few bad relationships she just... I mean. She defines everything by how she looks. If I’m fat than she has to be a bad mom, you know? It doesn’t look good.”

You rub the spot on your belly that she pinched. It’s still sore and uncomfortable Bruce tuts and moves your hand away, kissing gently “Your belly is cute,” he whispers, “I love your curves. They’re comfortable. Perfect. You and all your ticklish spots are the best part of coming home.” He nuzzles that spot softly and lets his fingers graze the inside of your thigh to make you giggle, satisfied for the moment that you’re going to let him take care of you.

Tags: @lancsnerd​ @stevieang​ @golddaggers​ @blameitonthecauseway​ @qxeen-of-hearts​ @process-pending​ @xmarveled​ @beautybyfire, @etherealwaifgoddess, @mschellehitt, @mistressoftorture @thorfanficwriter @straightforwardly @hello-im-bi

[serenityandstardust]

100 Things

June 13, 2012

I had reconstructive surgery on my knee due to an 100% tear to my ACL.

I don’t know how to ice skate.

I’ve never been skiing — water or ice.

I’ve never been on a cruise.

I have a son, age 6.

My career is in education.

My cat’s name is Arwin — a LOTR character.

I live 5 miles from the ocean.

I lost 80 pounds in the past year.

I’m tired of superhero movies.

I like my steak medium rare.

I love Disney World. I could ride Space Mountain over and over and over.

I collect shot glasses from around the globe — places I’ve been or places my friends have been.

I have a tendency to wear a song out; I play it over and over again.  My 6 year old criticizes me for it.

I love college sports.

I get silly when I get sleepy.

I play with my food when I am full.

I hate professional sports — no heart…they are in it for the money.

I played softball for 8 years; was a prospective catcher for a local university until I tore my knee to shreds.

I played volleyball for 2 years; I had a killer overhand serve.  Aces on that back line.

My first kiss was at my sweet 16 birthday party.  We were a little pressured.  I can’t even remember his name.

On a dare, I drove a car a 100+ mph on a two lane highway with the headlights out on a back country road for five minutes.  

I used to be afraid of guns until I shot a AR-15.

I am a sorority girl.

I prefer a calla lily to a rose.

I have 5 holes in my ears.

I have a dragonfly tattoo on my foot.  The tail wraps up around my ankle bone.

I teach high school kids. They are a blast.  I tried my hand at primary and elementary, and did not enjoy it as much.

I used to sell insurance.  

My favorite color is purple.

I like things that sparkle in sunlight.

I have cooked an entire Thanksgiving dinner successfully without help. For 32, I’d say that isn’t bad.

I’ve lived in a foreign country (Spain, actually) for two years.

I took 5 years of Spanish, including conversational Spanish, and I barely know how to count to a hundred. I can comprehend it though…oddly enough; I can read it and understand it when spoken to me.  

My brother is a “recovering” drug addict. I was caught up in his drama for a long, long time.

I have two nieces and a nephew.

I am the oldest grandchild of 8 on my father’s side.

Don’t let my shyness fool you.  I have a naughty side.

I still sometimes use my fingers to count. This is BAD.

I can’t live in a land-locked state. Once I leave the coast, I start to feel claustrophobic.

I have a natural ability in art. It is nothing I pursued in life, but I dabble with it on the side.

I make homemade silver jewelry. Again, nothing I pursue in life, but I have made a few bucks on some of my crafts.

I wanted a second child, but that time has passed for me. I am happy with my son—he is my world.

I hate spiders. And snakes. Or anything that buzzes around my ear. Just thinking of these these things makes me shiver, literally.

I have been with my husband for 15 years and married for 9.  And I want a divorce.

I absolutely hate mopeds on major highways. The speed limit is 55 or 65. If you can’t hit the speed limit, keep the fucking two wheeled piece of shit off the road.

I love strawberries. Anything strawberry.

I only chew spearmint gum.

I only wear silver or black jewelry.

I wear contacts. And glasses at night. But 99.9% of the time…contacts.

One of my endearing phrases is “You’re a mess.” If I say it to you, it means I like you.

I love the beach, the salt water, the sand, the smell, the sounds.  It’s home.

I am extremely shy until you get to know me, then…you’ll have a hard time shutting me up.

I am very ticklish. Very very ticklish.

I love to learn. For me, it is never ending.

I have nine lives. I’ve almost drowned, I’ve been in a near death car accident, I’ve attempted suicide (a couple of times), I’ve had incurable bone cancer that miraculously healed without medical help.

I love spending time with my son.  I love getting on the floor, down on his level and playing with him, coloring with him, and pretending that I’m six again.

I have premonitions. I have dreams that come true. Some good, some bad, some sad, but they always come true.

I love to listen to music, especially in the car…but when I’m at home, alone…I enjoy the quiet.  I like to hear myself think.

I do not believe in God, but I believe in something. I choose not to give it a name.  I am very spiritual—a free spirit…so to speak.

I’ve been told by many that I have an old soul.

Many debate the color of my hair. Some say brown. Some say auburn.  I suppose it depends if you are looking at me under direct sunlight.

I want to travel. I want to backpack around the country and around the world. I want to take very little with me…just a camera and a journal.

I do NOT have a green thumb. Check my porch for proof.  I mean, I tried. I really did.

I kill with kindness.

I am persistent. Good lord, I’m persistent. Someone once told me that I never stop until I get my way.  I’m thinking this was his way of saying I’m selfish.

I am insecure. I get jealous easily, I have low self-esteem, I doubt myself and others.

I like to sing. I suck horribly at it, but I won’t sing around you.

If the world is going to end, I’ll be standing outside hitching a ride with my towel in hand.

I wish I had my own Narnia closet. What I wouldn’t give to live a thousand lifetimes and come back to be me again and again.

I am a crier. If you are close to me, really close…and I come over…be sure to have a box of tissues.  I cry sad tears, mad tears, happy tears.

I am not skinny or thin.  Though I despise the words fat and obese, I don’t feel that I am neither fat nor obese.  I am me, curves and all.  Women like me were once adored…a long time ago.

I have been known to make the first move, but would prefer the guy to. I still fear rejection.

I love body sprays, but hate perfumes.  I like a light lingering fragrance that I can spritz on anytime…nothing overpowering or choking.

I like spicy food. The older I get, the spicier it has to be.

I hate the way I look. HATE.

I have been published.

I have sold artwork.

I am never sitting down anywhere in my house without a throw blanket wrapped around me. My hands are cold all the time too.

I hate the smell of ketchup.  Just thinking about it makes me cringe.

My go to mixed drinks of choice sre an ameretto sours or a lemon drops.

I’ve never broken a bone in my body. Torn muscles and ligaments, yes…but no bones.

I love to dance, funny as shy as I am, but a little liquid courage helps.

Beatles or Elvis? If I had to pick…Elvis.

I carry a purse with me…in my car, but to fucking tote it in the mall or a restaurant? No.

My hair is naturally wavy.  You wouldn’t know it looking at pictures.

I’m short. 5’2 or 5’3 depending on the time of day you measure me. But hel, when I played volleyball, I was all palms above the net.

I love to read/watch anything science fiction (except the old Star Trek stuff - blame my uncle).

I love read/watch anything horror (blame my dad).

I smoke, probably way too much.

My erotic name … Chloe. (shhh) *she was my first kitten*

I am a ball of nerves.

I have tiny hands, or so I’ve been told.

I hate to see a man hide his butt.  Forget baggy, show me your ass, dammit!  On the other hand, I fall swiftly for the 90s alternative/grunge type. My men. My god…how they drive me crazy.

As much as I share online, there is a lot that I don’t share. The really personal stuff?  I save that for special people.

I love with all of my heart, all of my soul.  I give everything I have.

[fantasyideas1]

Aphorisms Marketing and populism, activate the force field of skepticism. Honesty will save you a lot of money in love. The lingering note of the violin flying into space, the note of the piano as a tear of regret, the note of the violin carried away into the depths of eternity, the colors of chaos in the hands of sociopaths, the media harvests stupidity, and the ego is a farm of stupidity. A presentation, a documentary, a conference on how much of a brute I am for not taking out the trash. Prison of no understanding. Telepathy of intuition of empathy is the world language of the world. Unstable chaos of perception due to self-interest. Will is your photoshop with which you change reality. jokes She is so thin as if she was rolled out with a rolling pin economic riser In old age, the penis is like a watering can, strictly dosed trickles, like sex with his wife. Doctors are not vulgar? So in their lexicon they say the word insert more often than others. Sex of saints, how is it? Just pat on the shoulder as a friend. Why can't her snoring be cured? I'm snoring to determine if she's alive or not A stand-up comedian performs in the hall, a man screams from the audience that is not funny, the second brutal man screams show me the penis. Comedian: Penis? Why are there only men in the room? Like you said the club is called, banana paradise. Oh no. No no no. The comedian runs out and the guys catch him. I'm sorry, I'm not gay, I'm not gay, the guy show me such a penis. He shows with tears, all the guys started laughing, that was funny. Get out. I'll fire my agent. Guy: You're not manly enough. Another guy: yes, but you have like a hairstyle like a feminist, a woman of age who mows down like a boy. Looks at women: enough boys. Asian women stretch pleasure to passion like a slime, it will break quickly if you finish quickly. Why does your penis cum so fast, is it ticklish. So she is insatiable in sex? Milking machine, and you sang with happiness: mu The director of the bank is the godfather to whom you kiss the ring, and something else if you are guilty. Take a giant loan and run away from the country and rob the state treasury? You watch too many cartoons. He's thirty and still watches cartoons. For adults. Anime? No for adults. Why don’t you go to the dance floor, I didn’t come here for this, but why, I watch drunk boobs and priests shaking. It is clear why the club is called. Coco is like coconuts (buffers) Bongos (Priests), well, who do you stick your spear into (penis). Skepticism, your guardian angel in the sales world. Human stupidity is painful. Did you sue your ex-wife for your penis? Was the judge a man? Yes. All clear. Woman: my husband is not young, and how do you like sex with him, like a dispenser of toothpaste, soap, seeds. Why do you need a sweater with a high collar, Lord, she sees a penis everywhere, she has not had sex for a long time. Naked man on the ground with a bouquet of roses in his ass, I like it, the original flower vase, my husband burned it with this lover, how vital and painful, these flowers have thorns How to prolong love? We will renew (that's what prostitutes say) Why does it say juicer above your vagina How to send off an annoying boyfriend? Well, I'm like that, I think with my penis all the time. The boyfriend will answer, and I'm a vagina The brain is like a rubber ball, defends against the walls of the skull Breaking up is hard, like a ruptured spleen, now you have two spleens I love it when fat women gurgle when walking You still haven't found a girl for a guy, I came in without knocking, and he stroked his penis like a cat looking at the photo of the former Beautiful well, straight beef steak in honey for a hungry bear Don't cum so fast, it's sex, not cum donation

Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

[hiraeth-doux]

100 Questions

Tagged by one of my favourites @lunabelles

1. What is your nickname? I don’t have one

2. How old are you? Old …

3. What is your birth month? June

4. What is your zodiac sign? Gemini

5. What is your favorite color? Purple

6. What’s your lucky number? 13

7. Do you have any pets? 2 cats but they live with my mom now because bringing them with me to Australia would have been complicated 

8. Where are you from? currently living in Australia 

9. How tall are you? 5′2 (1,59m)

10. What shoe size are you? between 6 and 7, depending on shoes

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? About 12 maybe? 

12. Are you random? oh yeah

13. Last person you texted? My telephone company (yeah....) 

14. Are you psychic in any way? I don’t think so, I can be so incredibly clueless.

15. Last TV show watched? Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt 

6. Favorite movie? Stardust

17. Favourite show from your childhood? Sailor Moon! 

18. Do you want children? Nope

19. Do you want a church wedding? Not planning on getting married 

20. What is your religion? Brought up an atheist and will keep it that way. I’m quite fascinated with Buddhism and Hinduism but I don’t believe in anything divine

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? Yes

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Running the red light, does that count?

23. How is life? ..... next question 

24. Baths or showers? Showers

25. What color socks are you wearing? Black

26. Have you ever been famous? lmao no

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? Nope. I like being able to carry on with my life without being stalked. I’d love the financial side of it though 

28. What type of music do you like? All kinds except the songs I don't like

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? I think so... I’m pretty sure I have but i don’t have a clear recollection

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 3 

31. What position do you usually sleep in? My side or my stomach 

32. How big is your house? It’s a studio. Decent sized for a studio but otherwise it’s pretty small 

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? Cereal or an omelette 

34. Have you ever left the country? Yes

35. Have you ever tried archery? I think I had a toy bow because I liked Robin Hood as a kid, but not the real thing, no.

36. Do you like anyone? In a romantic sense - yeah, sort of. Otherwise I like my family and friends and my cats :)

37. Favorite swear word? Fuck

38. When do you fall asleep? Whenever my sleeping pills kick in

39. Do you have any scars? A few, have no idea how I got most of them though.

40. Sexual orientation? Pretty sure I’m straight but I hope I’m wrong

41. Are you a good liar? Maybe...?? How do you determine that? 

42. What languages would you like to learn? Italian, Hebrew and Greek 

43. Top 10 songs? I just played Tightrope from The Greatest Showman 15 times on repeat so I’ll go with it, x 10 lol 

44. Do you like your country? It’s okay, although I moved here from Canada and I like Canada much more

45. Do you have friends from the web? Yes and I <3 you all! 

46. What is your personality type? no idea, i took the test several times, each time with a different result 

47. Hogwarts House? Ravenclaw 

48. Can you curl your tongue? Nope

49. Pick one fictional character you can relate to? April Ludgate from Parks and Rec, or Rosa Diaz from B99

50. Left or right handed? Righty (sp??)

51. Are you scared of spiders? Not really. I find them disgusting but I can kill them without, you know, having to ask someone else to do it

52. Favorite food? Deep fried cheese

53. Favorite foreign food? Sushi

54. Are you a clean or messy person? A little bit of both??? I’m not the kind of messy that has week-old food just sitting on the table or has clothes strewn all over the floor, but I’m not a neat freak either, idk 

55. If you could switch your gender for a day, what would you do? Probably try to understand why men are so obsessed with boobs. I don’t get it, it’s mostly just fat (that women are not supposed to have anywhere else on the body, right?)

56. What color underwear? Peach

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? Maybe 30 minutes, give or take a few 

58. Do you have much of an ego? I have zero

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Don’t like candy

60. Do you talk to yourself? If not me, who else? lol 

61. Do you sing to yourself? Not really 

62. Are you a good singer? God no, I went to a music school for 6 years and I know for a fact that I am tone deaf

63. Biggest Fears? Snakes and small/overcrowded spaces

64. Are you a gossip? Nope, but if people want to share - go ahead lol

65. Are you a grammar nazi? Pretty much, the way people speak on the internet is my nightmare 

66. Do you have long or short hair? Long

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? I think so, I don’t think I ever tried

68. Favorite school subject? English

69. Extrovert or Introvert? Introvert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? No, I’m scared of running out of air, and I am generally scared of water and drowning.

71. What makes you nervous? Everything. My anxiety, people, having to make phone calls, having to talk to anyone, not knowing what I’m doing with my life, my insomnia (and worrying about insomnia sort of leads to more insomnia) 

72. Are you scared of the dark? No

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? Depends. If I know that it’s vital, like idk, in an important document or something, but otherwise probably no. I would never correct them if I know it would embarrass them

74. Are you ticklish? Yes

75. Have you ever started a rumor? I don’t think so

76. Have you ever been out of your home country? Yes

77. Have you ever drank underage? Oh yeah, it’s basically the only time I drank lol I quit before it was even legal for me to drink. 

78. Have you ever done drugs? Why? Never 

79. What do you fantasize about? My fanfics, and that guy lol 

80. How many piercings do you have? 6 - 2 in the left ear, 3 in the right and my navel even though I don’t wear navel jewellery anymore. I want to have my rook and helix pierced 

81. Can you roll your R’s? lol I don’t know

82. How fast can you type? Not too fast

83. How fast can you run? Depends on what’s chasing me lol 

84. What color is your hair? Natural - dark blonde, right now - auburn/red

85. What color are your eyes? Hazel/green 

86. What are you allergic to? Nothing, to my knowledge 

87. Do you keep a journal? Nope and never have 

88. Are you depressed about anything? A lot of things

89. Do you like your age? I actually quite love it 

90. What makes you angry? So. Many. Things!! Ignorance, people’s blind belief in something they don’t understand, racism, homophobia, when women are treated as lesser beings, bullying of any kind. I can go on for a while.... 

91. Do you like your own name? Not much. My mom wanted to name me Anna, I wish she did 

92. Did you ever get a foreign object up your nose? No

93. Do you want a boy or a girl for a child? I don’t want to have kids

94. What talents do you have? Rumour has it my writing is decent, but I don’t know if it’s a talent or a skill 

95. Sun or moon? Moon

96. How did you get your name? I think my father chose it which he had no right to do 

97. Are you religious? Not at all. I guess I’m spiritual to a degree? I do believe in karma 

98. Have you ever been to a therapist? Yes, and I am probably not done 

99. Color of your bedspread? Beige with pink embroidery 

100. Color of your room? My whole apt is essentially one room and it is light beige 

tagging: @wonderrbat, @wondrousdianas, @crownstealer, @fybarnes, @betholsen, @thatgirlyouvenevertalkedto, @akastarlord, @dreamer-wisher-liar, @jessellin, @hufflehugg

[widgenstain]

Currently cleaning out my fic folder. This barbarian/monk crackpornfluff has been lying around for a while now. Cannot remember why I wrote it, probably because I wanted to write some top!Erik again for a change. Have fun and ignore the bad English!

“They have so much gold, they paint their books with it, pages over pages!”, Toad nodded gravely, Don't laugh, I have seen them with my own eyes!”

'”How do you paint books with gold? Gold is solid. Besides, it's heavy and monks are weaklings, how are they supposed to carry those books around?”

„It's only very thin gold! Erik, you have seen them too!“

Toad turned to him and poked him in the side. Ignoring Erik's warning grunt, he kept going:

“They value them for what they scribble in them though. They’re obsessed with it. You should have seen the one crying at the last place we went to, when I ripped that stupid leather thing apart. They are so weird.” 

“Monks are weird”, agreed Victor, “but they do make the best beer. I can't wait to get my hands on some stout and barley bread. And maybe on some of the monks too.”

“What!?”

“Don't pretend to be so surprised, you slimy creep. You’re into much worse. Erik here gets me, right?” Victor grinned his feral, dark-stained grin.

“They're weak, pale and softer than women under their robes. I mean, they’re usually so scared - or into it, they don’t struggle or wiggle much, so if that’s more your thing, you’re at a loss, but I’ve had some great hours with their asses and mouths.

Erik psshhed and Victor shrugged.

“Don't pretend you're better than me. You do it, I do it, why shouldn't we all have a little fun with them before we kill them? Speaking of ...”

Between the leaves of the forest's crown the impressive defensive walls of the monastery had appeared. In Erik's old company this would have been the time to make camp and go over the plan of attack. In this new group of fearsome Norsemen, it was time you charged at the castle swinging your axe without a moment of hesitation. The men yelled their battle cries as they leapt through the mud, weapons raised and clubs crashing heavily against the wooden planks of the main gate. They hammered and splintered away, the noise deafening in the air and slowly the oaken gate gave way to the assault.

 Except...

 The gate was open. The fearsome warriors weren't faced with a real door, they cursed and fought mirages made of dust and air.

“Hey Erik!”, a red-headed boy greeted him as Erik walked through the gate.

“Did you bring the spices I asked for?”

“All down by the boat, I'll get them in a minute.”

“Ha, yeah, a minute...” he froze at  Erik’s face, “I’m joking! Don’t worry about them, Hank and I will get them! You enjoy yourself!” As much as he wanted to scold Sean and make the boy tremble with fear, there were more important matters at hand.

Erik pretty much flew up the stairs to the dormitorium. It was empty at this time of day, except for the very naked abbot of the monastery who was casually lightening candles in the back. He didn't even look up from his conduct, as if he hadn't noticed Erik barging into the room. Erik could feel his mouth water at the sight of the thick, creamy thighs and the perfectly round globes of his ass. Pale? Yes. Soft? In some areas. Weak? Well, those who had wrongly assumed so had paid a painful price.

He felt Charles’ puckish grin spread in his mind and the sensation of what it feels like when he burrows his beard in Charles’ shaven neck. Erik couldn't keep in the groan and he pretty much pounced Charles who pretended to only see him now.

“Oh no, intruders, barbarians, we are doomed!”

“Oh shut up!” Erik pulled him into a tight embrace and crashed their mouths together in a hungry, bordering on desperate kiss. Usually he had better control, but with a display like this and almost three months away from Charles, Erik ached for the feel of Charles’ lips on his. And Charles grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him back fiercely, noses and teeth clashing. But after a few, blissful moments, Charles broke it up and wailed:

“Oh what will I do, a strong wild man has come to ravish me”, all while he leaned his compact, NAKED body against Erik's still unfairly dressed one.

“What are you talking about?”

“Will you not forcefully deflower me, like a true Norseman would with a weak and wilting young monk like me?”

No eyeroll could express what all was wrong with that sentence, yet Erik still tried.

“Charles, please, stop that nonsense.”

He brought their mouths back together and Charles gave in until:

There are 27 men with limited and very brutal fantasies fighting a glorious battle downstairs, thanks to me. Humour me a little.

Erik, weak in the knees thanks to Charles sucking on his tongue like the demon in monk robes that he clearly was, sighed into the kiss and slid his hand down to roughly grab one of the perfect cheeks.

“Alright, but this ‘Norseman’ wants to be undressed and not do much of the work tonight, understood?” 

Charles licked his reddened lips, nodded with a twinkle in his eye and went on to flick the buttons of Erik’s jacket open. For someone so desperate to be ravished, he was took his time though, kissed and licked every new bit of exposed skin, sloooowly ran his fingers down the line of Erik’s neck... 

Until Erik let a frustrated noise, pushed him back to his bed and finished the job much quicker. Mischief, pure mischief was written on the beautiful face as Charles laid back on the simple berth and spread his legs. His gorgeous fat cock curved against his belly, hard and wet at the tip, while below the hair was dark and mussed up.

Erik groaned and practically ripped his leggings off. He was on Charles mere seconds later, right between his legs, he kissed the red mouth hard and couldn’t help but grind his stiffening erection against the straw filled mattress.

“Yessss:”

You are incorrigible, he thought at Charles as he kissed his way down the pale chest to the ticklish belly and licked the tip of Charles’ cock who groaned and tried to move his hips away.

“What a strange Norseman who sucks his poor, helpless bounty’s cock.

“This “Norseman” missed the taste and he’s not going to let this be taken from him, even if he apparently has no say in the general proceedings”, he swallowed him deep, tell me if you want me to stop.

Charles’ needy moan and the hand suddenly fisting his hair told Erik that this was not the case.

And just HOW Erik had missed this! He’d done this with other men before, before he’d met Charles, but he’d never expected that he would like it this much. Or just like it. Full stop.

Charles was different than those nameless men in every sense; he was perfect. Erik loved the musky taste, the foreskin and the shape, he loved how deep he could take him and how the stretch didn't bother him; instead it filled him with pride when Charles whined and grabbed his hair tighter.

He’d wanted this the whole damned crossing and it was so much better than the memories he had jerked off to. As a matter of fact: he reached down to take himself in hand and rub his cock in the same rhythm, he was so horny, he was going to burst any minute or so anyway.

“No! No.”

Charles pulled up Erik’s head rather abruptly.

“You aren’t the only one who went through a dry spell, you’re going to keep it together. You can do that later if you want to.”

Charles scrambled up and climbed to his knees, butt raised and presented himself to Erik like a gift.

“This way. We haven’t done this in ages, besides, I’ve used half of your oil this morning, it cannot go to waste.” He wiggled his ass at Erik who grinned but also couldn’t tear his eyes off the display.

“So economic. Where’s the rest?”

“Silver phial.” Charles went down on his forearms and stretched his back in the obscenest manner.  The little bottle shot through the air like an English man’s dart and Erik suddenly couldn’t slick up fast enough. He ached for it and it took all of his composure not to come as he levelled behind Charles and breached him slowly. Or tried to breach him slowly since Charles pushed back and took him to the root with a long, deep, satisfied sigh. Erik grabbed the cheeks, nails sunk in as a warning, but it only spurred Charles on.

“Come on, take me. Take me, I need it.”

“Wah..sn’t this supposed to be some helpless victim fantasy?”

“Screw that. Fuck me.” Charles moved on his dick and Erik almost choked on his tongue so heavy and thick it felt in his mouth. He wanted this. Charles wanted this, he could do it. He pushed back, countered the rhythm Charles had set and slowly fucked him, every thrust measured and with the goal to bring Charles more joy than the incredible, soft wet heat brought him.

It was bloody useless though. Charles thrust back, his hole so welcoming and greedy even, clenching around him with every move that devil of a man made. Erik whined tried to regain some control, pulled out under Charles’ noisy protest but couldn't resist the low and needy moans that followed. He shifted on his knees, went for a better angle and thrust back in. He’d forever deny that shout, but from that moment on it was a brutal and fast mess. He pounded into Charles who encouraged him, a filthy stream of obscenenities falling from his mouth, with no rhythm, no finesse.

“Yes, there, deeper, come on take me, fuck me, faster, Oh Lord in heaven yessss.”

Erik sobbed and pushed Charles’ shoulders down, mainly to shut him up, but he only got muffled moans in return, and an ass that fucked back even more relentlessly. Erik grabbed the soft flesh before him, right now Charles ass was the best thing he’d ever touched, probably ever, round and soft and so insatiable like its owner. Erik slapped it, sharp and loudly,

“Yes that’s it, do it harder!”

Erik’s coherency spectacularly collapsed while he still  TRIED.

He slapped Charles’ ass again, undulated his hips and pushed into him with quick, deep thrusts that shook their small bed and fully kept him in the tight vice of Charles’ greedy body. Down to the root, sunk in his lover, he smacked that perky flesh again and muttered, most likely not only figuratively out of his mind:

“This is what you want? To be held down and used like this? To be fucked like all the men out there want to fuck you? Like a piece of ass, to be used and thrown away?” 

The gasp that followed did it. Charles body was raked with a deep shiver, like this was precisely what he’d waited for, and Erik came. To the gasp, to the heat, to this relentless friction on his cock he spilled himself into Charles, almost crying at the relief it brought him.

When he came back to his senses he leaned against the whitewashed wall of the dormitorium while a sweaty, grinning Charles straddled his chest. He was still very much aroused to Erik’s surprise.

I said you could do that later, didn’t I?

Erik grinned like a loon and without a second of hesitation he swallowed Charles down. As far gone as he was it didn’t take more than a few needy sucks from Erik to make Charles cry out and try to pull back. But he wasn’t the only one determined amongst them, so Erik refused to let him go and with a very un-monk-like curse falling from his lips, Charles came down Erik’s relaxed throat. When he pulled back Erik couldn't help the cough but Charles contented and slightly dumb  face was worth all the discomfort in the world.

Re-arranged and cuddled together on the small bed, Erik tried to stay awake, there were errands to run, and the fools of his company to be taken care of.

Put them to sleep right the moment you came through this door. It’s not as if the others couldn't deal with them if I slipped but I didn't want to accidentally broadcast something of this into their sad little brains.

“You didn’t? Don’t you usually give them fantasies that are quit similar to this? Didn’t you want to show me off?” 

Similar, yes. But not you. Not us. You are mine and this is for us. It’s not to be shared. 

Charles’ face lay close to his on the one pillow and if Erik didn’t know better there almost was something shy in the otherwise so confident smile.

“So I am”, Erik said and finally gave Charles the soft, lingering kiss he’d wanted to give him the past three months. 

[hoodoo12]

A fic where the reader wants to cuddle with rick but is having problems because of her bust size. (The struggle is real)

Sweet anon, I hope this works for you. (Mature)

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

You sigh. Well, pout.

Rick, across the couch,takes a swig from his flask and cocks an eyebrow at you.

“What’s w-wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I told you this movie isshit. Why are we watching it?”

“I like this movie! It’s a classic!”

“It’s shit. Why are we watchinga m-m-movie that is making you upset?”

“I’m not upset!”

“Uh-huh,” he replied,sarcasm dripping from his voice.

His personal feelingsabout “Ghost” aside, he did have a slight point. The iconic pottery scene wasplaying: Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore pressed together, fingers in the clay,so close and sweet, him swinging her up, fitting together perfectly …

… and it wasn’tanything you felt you could have.

You sigh again. You cansee Rick watching you from the corner of your eye.

“I’m not upset!” youinsist, even though he didn’t ask you again.

He roots for the remoteand hits the ‘pause’ button. Swayze and Moore are frozen, kissing, in a tightembrace on the screen. The music stops too, of course, which in your state ofmind is a good thing.

“What is wrong?” Rickenunciates clearly.

“It’s … it’s justthat I feel bad …”

“I know, right? This movie is shit.”

“No!” you snap. “It’s notthe movie! I like the movie. What I don’t like is …”

He stares at you, andwaves his hand impatiently a little bit to encourage you to continue.

You close your eyes.“What I don’t like is thattheycancuddleandIcan’tcuddlebecauseofmyboobs.”

Rick doesn’t say anythingfor a moment, and you peek at him.

“Gordi, I’m old and I’vebeen drinking. You gotta-you’re going to have to repeat that.”

You sigh, more sadly thistime. “I’m sad that they can cuddle, that everyone can cuddle and I can’t verywell because of my big fat stupid boobs.”

He’s silent again.

You feel your shouldershunch, which is normal, but it also reminds you that your back hurts. Again,because of your chest size. You sit up straight and throw your shoulders back.It eases the tension for a hot second, then your body slides back into itsfamiliar position and ache.

Rick drops the remote,pockets his flask, and scoots over to you.

“Baby, gordi,” he starts to say, soothingly.

You cut him off. “Andthat? What you just said? I looked it up. It means ‘fatty’ in Spanish. I know!”

A faint look of perplexitypinches his face.

“That’s not what it means—okay,gordi does technically mean that but it’s a term of endearment, a p-pet name,” Rickexplains. “It’s a common thing to call someone—“

“I don’t like it!”

“Okay, okay. Baby, okay,”he agrees.

He’s pressed against younow, and he puts an arm around you. You want to be standoffish, you want to beangry, but it’s difficult. You’re conditioned to accept him.

“So tell me about this,about you can’t cuddle?” he asks.

You made the mistake ofmentioning your self-shame, and Rick’s a terrier with a rat between his teeth.You know he’s not going to let this go, so you’ve learned the quickest thing todo is spill it. Like ripping off a band-aid. However, you keep your eyes closedas you admit,

“It’s my boobs! They’retoo big, they get in the way, they hurt! They’re awful!”

Once more he’s quiet. Oncemore you peek at him from under your eyelashes.

He’s scrutinizing you.His head is cocked, he’s staring at your chest so hard he could burn a hole init. His lips move, like he’s doing calculations to himself, and you watch himnarrow his eyes and deliberately scan the rest of your body. This ismortifying. You feel worse.

Taking a deep breath, youmove to shake him off.

Rick realizes what yourshoulder movement is meant to be doing, and digs his fingers in so you can’tdislodge him. The man can stick like glue if he puts his mind to it.

“Hey, hey now,” he says.“Gordi—I mean, baby, listen!”

You stop trying to freeyourself.

His free hand catchesyour chin. You resist for a moment, but give in again and turn your face tohis. He makes sure you’re looking at him before he continues.

“I like your tits,” hesays, very seriously, very sincerely. “I loveyour tits. They’re soft and perfect on you. I love their size.”

“They’re too big—“ youcounter, and he interrupts you in return.

“They’re not too big. Not too big for me, anyway.I love that they fill my hands. No matter what you read in a woman’s magazine,men love big tits. Small ones arejust eh. Big ones though … they’re ideal. They’re warm, and I love to getmy face in your cleavage—”

He demonstrates, shovinghis face right between them. You can’t help but laugh because even with a shirton it’s ticklish and ridiculous. When he sits back again, however, with grin,your mirth dissolves. You’re not actuallyconvinced. He can tell.

“I know your back hurtssometimes. But you know I’m always down for giving a sensual massage—“

You can’t help but smile;he never hesitates to use those strong hands of his to work out the knots inyour shoulders.

“—but I’m a littlecon-confused about the ‘can’t cuddle’ thing.”

Rick looks a question atyou. You half-shrug. 

“What do you mean, you can’tcuddle? Shit, we cuddle all the time,” he says forcefully, and starts listing things,counting them off on the fingers of his free hand. “On the couch, when we laydown, you’re the little spoon. I put one arm under your neck and on top of yourtits, and the other below your tits—it’s like a big, gropey hug. Or when I’mhere on the couch and you lay between my legs with your head on my stomach. Inbed, on my back, you cuddle right into my damn side and put one arm and legover me. Sometimes I lay right on top of you! Or lean against and put my headon your chest and you play with my hair. And remember when you sat behind me inthat chair and wrapped your legs around my waist and your arms around mychest?”

He was well out offingers.

“That’s all cuddling, baby. Right? So what doyou mean, you can’t?”

You nod in agreement butstill can’t shake the feeling that he just didn’t get it.

Rick sighs—moreexasperated than you’d done with the same noise—and bites his own lower lip infrustration. His eyes land on the still image on the television screen.

“That. That’s what you’retalking about, isn’t it?” he demands, pointing to it. “Swayze holding Moore upand kissing her? You’re upset because we can’t do that?”

Damn Rick and his vastintellect. He hit the nail on the head. Actors pick up actresses like they’remade of feathers, hold them, kiss them passionately, and the actresses boobsdon’t add extra weight or get in the way of getting so close—

Rick snorts his opinion ofwhat’s on  the screen once he knows he’sright.

“Gordi—“ He stops andcorrects himself. “—I mean baby,listen. That’s not cuddling. That’s shitty, sappy visuals contrived by hackswho can’t accurately describe how people show affection for each other. It’sshitty, hammy acting by performers who go over the top because they can’t emotetrue passion.”

He catches your eye.

“And baby, seriously, I’man old man. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, but the truth is, I can’tpick you up like that because my arthritic, osteoporotic spine would snap intwo. I wish I could, but I’m at least thirty years passed that point.”

His admission makes youfeel bad. He’s right, he’s always right, but you never meant for yourinsecurity to be a springboard for his own physical issues.

“Hey now,” Rick says,taking your chin again so you have to look at him. “We can cuddle all you want.You can snuggle into me, and I’m gonna grab handfuls of your sweet tits everychance I get, and bury my face in them just as often. Sound good?”

You think everythingover. A smile flits on your face. He sees it too, and grins back. Dramatically,he plants a kiss on the top of each of your boobs. Still pressed against you,he stretches for the discarded remote. He pauses before he hits the play buttonagain, a lecherous gleam in his eyes.

“You wanna continuewatching this sh-shit movie or do you wanna make our own triple-x parody of it?There might not be a pottery wheel or ceramics clay in the house, but I bet wecan come up with something just as dirty and sticky …”

An expression on yourface like you’re seriously weighing the options, you ask seriously, “Can weplay ‘Unchained Melody’ in the background?”

“Oh god no.”

“Then can I pick you up and hold you while we kiss?”

He fixes you with a lookthat’s less lecherous and more disapproving.

You can’t keep up thefarce and giggle. “Can I at least try?”

Rick sighs. “Fine, baby.F-fine. Let’s get to a bed so when you drop me, there’s a larger target tobreak my fall.”

You slap him in mockoutrage, but can’t stop giggling as he leads you to your bedroom. He flashesyou a grin on the way.

When you do finally pickhim up and drop him onto the mattress—as he predicted—he pulls you down on topof him, continuing to praise your tit size. Eventually you’re both as sticky ashe lewdly suggested, and sated and slightly less self-conscious, you fallasleep cuddled against him.

fin.

[elaianna]

Home

"Nice ta' be home ... "

"Nice to have you home," she commented, closing the door behind her. She discarded her single sandal, not having bothered to find where her other one had spun off to. Likely into the ocean, truth be told, with that twirl. Not that she seemed to mind.

"As much as I know you needed your time away, I wish you could have been there tonight. It was spectacular-- no!" she corrected herself with an enthusiasm, quickly adding on with a grin. "-Spook-tacular." Eh? EEEHH?

While she spoke, Thomas busied himself with striking up a reasonable fire. It took a little time to get the embers going in the kindling he had left beside the hearth before he departed. Logs followed -- small ones. Though her last words left him sputtering with a laugh. It was enough that he had to set down the wood in his hand. Thomas turned, peeking over his shoulder at her, ".. Really? I didn' know they taught 'puns' in Lady-school."

Elaianna feigned a scoff. "Please, Thomas. I'm a fisherman. Can't you see?"

"Ah -- ! Excuse me, here'n I thought y'were some Baroness or somethin'. Funny, tha' conjurations a sailor can make, eh?" Thomas giggled, sounding quite light, and jovial. It was a far cry from when he had left. The fire began to burn brightly, sap in the dry wood sparking and crackling.

"Such silly, silly conjurations indeed," she agreed, hand on her hip as she shook her head at him. She even went so far as to tut him with a few clicks of her tongue before cracking a grin.

He was willing to let a lot go. Humor, fussing -- but tut-tutting? No, no that was something Thomas could not abide. He rose from where he knelt at the fireside, coming a few steps toward her to squint. Both hands came out to grasp at her hips suddenly, fingers splayed out to tickle below her rib cage for a moment. "Fah! I ain't silly -- serious as they come."

Whether he knew it or not, Elaianna was very ticklish. She squirmed, swaying from side to side as he tickled her. Laughter erupted from her as she tried to get away from the sailor-turned-tickle-monster. "T-Tah-Thomas," she fought to say over the sound of her own laughter echoing.

A smile played out over Thomas' face. Mercy, he could abide. Just as she was starting to really squirm, he stopped the movement of his finger tips. Instead, he settled his hands at her hips, gripping lightly for a moment. "Ah-ah-Anna." He cooed in a teasing tone. Smug was a good descriptor for the smile that plagued his face.

The smile that had plastered over her features from her laughter never dwindled even as her laughter did. She draped her arms over his shoulders resting her hands loosely behind him. "Normally when you say my name like that there's a whole lot less clothing," she countered in teasing.

That had an effect. Thomas cleared his throat, the sound coming out as something between a cough and a grunt. He adjusted his footing, giving a little wider space to his trousers. "Ah -- ahem. Now I know yer' a simple fisherman, since tha' Lady Baroness would never say somethin' with such ... implication." The fire in the hearth sputtered, coming well to life now with the logs atop licked in orange flames.

As he adjusted his stance, her gaze flitted downwards for a split second before looking back to him grinning deviously. "No?" She arched a slender brow. "Sounds to me like you don't know your Baroness all too well, sailor."

A squint came to Thomas' eyes. There was a flash of some mischief in his gaze, though it came away just as easily. In it's place, he came alive with an expression of pleasant warmth. "Oh? Well, in ma' defense -- tha' Lady is quite tha' enigma. No matter how long'n I think on her, she still come about ta' surprise me, time an' again."

Her lips quirked into a smile. "Maybe that's because the Lady just likes to spend more and more time in your company. More time to learn just who she is beneath the titles and formalities, hm? More time as a human being, rather than a title."

What teasing tone Thomas held came away a little at her words. There was a more genuine nature to him, his hands laying lightly at her hips. With their height difference, he tilted his head to look at her better. ".. You think so? Y'know, I ain't always one ta' take the word of a simple fisherman as truth but ... y'seem a keen one. Maybe yer' right about tha' Lady." Thomas sighed, "Only problem is I ain't so's sure she'll be too interested in a lowly sailor like'n myself. Eventually, I figure she'll see I ain't much more'n a sun-soaked, salt-stained man with fat hands an' a handsome jaw." A little tut-tut left him, peering at her. "What d'ya think I should do, fisherlady?"

Reaching one hand up, she tilted the wide brim of her hat back so that she could better see him as she looked up smiling. "I know so. Woman's intuition," she assured him. "Well, I'm sure that just means she can count on you to be an honest man, leastwise with her. A hardworking one. Not something anyone should call lowly. Could ride out the waves, see what may come." She hummed in thought. "Or make her yours, and then she can't run away," she tacked on with some humor.

Thomas' brow came down, locked well in thought. There was a pause, the crackle of the fire keeping the silence from shuffling in. The light of it illuminated the room in a soft orange glow as Thomas ruminated. Eventually he spoke, patting her hip with one fat-fingered hand. "Y'may be right. Ain't much I'm good at -- I know 'shard ta' believe, lookin' at me -- but ridin' out hardship n' waves crashing is one. I make a right reasonable crag in a storm, so's I've been made aware. All folk gots ta' have one redeemin quality, right?" Thomas puffed out a laugh, scrubbing a hand over his jaw before placing it back against the denim of her overalls. His voice came lower, nearly whispering, "Can y'keep a secret, fisherlady?"

Her head bobbed into a small series of nods as she listened attentively. She could agree on that much wholeheartedly. He was her crag in a storm. "For you? I should be able to."

Thomas dipped his head in a nod. He offered up a finger in a 'one moment' motion. With a little hesitance, he took his hands away from her hips. It wasn't many steps to his bedside. The little table that lay beside his comfortable feather-bed came open, and he thumped the side of it a couple of times. Eventually, a false bottom came undone in the top drawer. Within, he fumbled until he found a little box. Well -- not quite a box. More of a shell, shaped and wrought with a copper and brass hinge. Thomas strode back toward her, a smile low on his face.

Elaianna tilted her head to the side, watching him leave her side to the table. She peered on with curiousity as he thumped the drawer, unable to see the false bottom from where she was at. When he came back, dove grey eyes locked in on the copper and brass shell shaped box. Her gaze flitted from the box, to Thomas.

The smile on his face came up, wider. He brought one fat finger up to his lips in a 'shush'. The other hand carefully cradled the shell, keeping it closed with his thumb and forefinger. "So -- I know yer' a fisherlady, so perhaps you'll appreciate this. Long time ago, when I was a younger man, I used ta' run crew with a few ships in tha' North. We sailed hard to tha' Northwest of Quel'thalas, fightin' tha' cold. Whalers, we were. Tough time in ma' life -- not that y'care -- had lost ma' wife, was listless. Took crew ta' try an' find some meanin', some coin, all that." Thomas pinched the shell, the spring in the hinge coming slack to allow it to open. Within was a ring, sized much smaller than his own fingers. It was svelte, petite even -- and not made of any metal. No, the ring was wrought of bone, by the look of it. "I ran with a lot of Arathi men, back then. Most of tha' crew bled Strom blood, and they were hard folks. Old traditions, all that kind of thing. Tha' bone of a whale held true fer' them, held power n' meaning. So's they said, anyhow." Thomas was babbling, letting out a story he'd never really thought he'd tell. The ring was inlaid with hand-engraved scrollwork. In the tiny space, there was fit engraving of sailing ships, anchors, and other nautical pieces. Around the bend of the ring, the scrollwork changed, seeming newer and of better craftsmanship. A woman's face, a flag amidst a cliffside.

Elaianna's lips parted, just slightly, as he sprung open the shell and she saw what was inside. As he spoke, she stepped closer, gaze on the ring, trying to read the tiny scrollwork from a distance. "Whale bone?" she asked, voice soft, quiet.

Thomas nodded, a smile still playing over his features. Though it was, perhaps, a little nervous. Not quite befitting his frame, nor the armor still around his chest. "Aye ... whale bone. I tore it from the body of the beast myself. Took near ta' forty days a'fore we bled him. A great, black hulk of a creature. Tracked ten days, struck him with harpoons, tracked the trail of blood for a month more. A tusked one, he was. Tha' crew said it was an oddity. Special." Thomas swallowed, straightening himself.

"Now I ain't never been special, never been grand. Ain't much more than the flesh an' bone I wear. I ain't so much as a Lady deserves but ... " He paused, taking up the ring from it's perch within the shell. Between his thumb and forefinger he offered it out toward her. There was a brief, frantic expression to his face. Emotion welled in his cheeks, and in his voice. "I -- I never finished tha' scrollwork. I didn't know where I was headed -- where we were. I do now. Or -- a'least I know where I want us ta' go." The pause that followed, and his gaze, held some gravity of implication.

Elaianna felt her own heart thumping wildly. Somehow her own nerves were acting up as she listened to him, saw his emotions laid so plainly for her to see. He was vulnerable and it made her feel equal parts vulnerable. Her cheeks became flushed, heated. She could plainly see the implication behind his rambling but she was still as a statue, staring at him with a wide dove grey gaze. There was something in her eyes, a glimmer of hope, and a yearning. She didn't move. She didn't act. She couldn't find words. She needed to hear the implication. She needed to hear those words from his lips before she could break herself from her frozen state.

The fire crackled, filling the void of space as he stared at her, meeting her gaze. Where her dove-grey eyes were wide and lovely, his own muddy blue orbs were lidded and awash with nerve. Thomas cleared his throat, coming a step toward her. He dipped, letting his body come down until he was at a knee, looking up at her. The ring still laid between his fingers, offered out to her. The orange glow of the fire lit the scrollwork, leaving it glimmering in a dull tone. "I -- I know it ain't nearly what y'deserve, a Baroness and Lady, but -- Elaianna, will you be my wife?" The words left him in a wave he could not stop, not if creation depended on it. With the words past his lips, Thomas looked up at her with a longing gaze, stubble curling around the little smile at his lips.

A small, shaky breath left her lips as he got down on a knee. There was a small tremble of anticipation to her body as she waited for those ever so sweet words and... there they were. Her lips split into a wide smile. Her head dipped into a vigorous nod before her tongue could figure out how to form words. She dropped down to her knees before him, so that they were on even level. Her head nodded once more, this time more gentle, more controlled in her gesture. "Yes," she said, the word coming out breathy as she found her voice. She swallowed before speaking with more affirmation to her tone. "Yes, Thomas. I will."

That was all it took. The rush of emotion that was churning in him came to a head, and he came forward to capture her lips in a kiss. It was needing, and feverish, and burned hot with a heat in him that he had spent so long trying to quell. Desire was too light a word for what he felt. Thomas was alive, fully and truly and in all the ways he thought he'd never feel again. As he kissed her, he laid a hand to her cheek. The other found it's way to her open palm, pressing the ring there to rest. It was smooth, mumbling only where the engraving cut the bone. Once it found her skin, it warmed with a heat beyond just that of their combined touch. The Arathi were right, there was old power in bones. Thomas held her to him, nearly falling to the floor of the cottage were it not for how he came to grasp her at the waist.

There was no hesitation as his lips caught her own. She matched him in need and burning passion. It was breathless. Any oxygen she had she gave to her future husband, holding onto him with one hand, the other closing her fingers around the ring, clutching it in her hand. Her lips parted from Thomas's as she felt that heat ignite against her hand, but only for a moment. Just long enough for her to find breath before crashing her lips back to his. Both hands draped over his shoulders and behind his head, she fought with pulling off the golden band on her ring finger. A ring that would be gone in the near future regardless, slipping it onto the ring finger of her other hand for now. The svelte band of whale bone, engraved as it was, was slipped on over it.

Thomas fought for his own breath. It was no easy going, given how relentless they both were in embracing the other. Yet, eventually, he found moments to breathe in between the ache and the swelling in his lips at their kiss. Thomas held her to himself, keeping her body as near to his as he could. The warmth of her, and the swell of pride that bloomed in his chest as she slipped the ring onto her finger, drove him. It was a sensation he did not want to abandon until he had to. In the quaking rear of his mind, he knew conversations would need to be had over divorce, and rights to land, life and property. Thomas did not care for any of those. Even in the throes of emotion, and desire, and love -- all he could conjure in his mind was her. She was his, and he was hers. That was all that mattered as his hands came around her, bringing her to him as his lips worried hers between them, nibbling and kissing with need.

As she was pulled to him, she pressed her body against his, her chest melding to his, ignoring the bite of his armor through her overalls. That didn't matter. Nothing else mattered save for him , and save for that moment. Many other thoughts drifted in her mind but none laid claim to her mind. The only claim on her was Thomas's. Her wish, and that keen witch's words, were already starting to prove true. Dipping her head down and to the side to kiss him with more hunger, her hat bumped against his forehead, the contact knocking it from her head. The straw hat fell to the floor, landing lightly behind her.

@thomasstalsworth

[kyrsperrightnow]

Mmmmmm soft thog

- he's got stretch marks on his belly n thighs, soft purble against his old scars n shit - he's not afraid to shirtless fight shit he doesn't care abt his jiggle belly it's good -he stretches and his shirt rides up and You can see Heaven -soft and warm extra rare hugs. Solid hold but soft to the Touch - hhhh lil happy hair trail - [ur ship here] kissing his belly he's trying not to laugh he's ticklish - [ur ship here] laying on thogs big thighs is comfy GIVE US MORE CHUBBY BOY APPRECIATION CHUBBY/FAT MEN ARE AMAZING AND HANDSOME LOVE UR LOCAL BIG MAN!!!!!

[loudlydecadentkryptonite-blog]

Harold

“What the fuck Harold!” Janey pulled up her garment over her chest as she caught a glimpse of the next door neighbor’s head clearing the window sill. “You have a ton of nerve!”, she spat at him as his finger pushed back the Cheez Whiz snots that came driveling out of a pig-like sobbing snout. “I just wanted to talk . . . alone.”, the fat boy whined in a low monotone. “Just get the Hell out of here before I call the cops!”, she yelled hopping up and down like some preteen little bitch. The ladder scrapped loudly for a long instant then fell into silence for a half of a moment until the sound of a deadened impact on turf accompanied by another louder whine relieved the tension giving the young woman pause to laugh. “Serves you right you big moron!” The whimpering died away as the top of the ladder reappeared bobbing away to the house down the street off the half acre property that engulfed Janey’s abode.

How long would she have to contend with this big ‘lunk’ she wondered to herself. This was the third time this week that he had run into her! But of course this time it had become a little too up close and personal for her liking. The idea that some three-hundred and fifty pound moron was actively stalking her did not sit well. The rat probably got a good clear look at her pussy? Thank God she didn’t believe in shaving down there. She could see those big rubber lips of his slobbering spit as he talked. She trying to stay an arms length the other day on the sidewalk rolling her cart past the old claptrap fleabag apartments that he supposedly played fix-it man and building ‘super’. There was nothing but a bunch of cheap drunks and old ‘down and outer’s’ in the twelve rundown flats. By seven at night everyone must have been blotto each Friday drinking themselves to death. All of course, save for Harold who was always hanging out watching. Peering into neighborhood windows that he shouldn’t have. Janie was surprised he hadn’t been shot by now?

As a rule she��d be going out to the restaurant to work the midnight shift but tonight they only needed her til ten as they were going to shut down early to fix some pipes that were leaking bad. The guy in the bar name Bill always showed up just after midnight had always given her a ride home at the end of her shift without being grabby. She liked that about him. All these other damn cowboys must have had mothers that were octopuses as their hands were always wandering. Too bad she had sworn off men years back? The last customer was politely kicked out by 9:45 PM and the doors locked and lights out some fifteen minutes later. She hated to walk in the dark! But she wasn’t going to blow her measly night’s pay on a taxi. “Fucking bitch!”, she countered to the wind as she felt the first drops of rain upon her face as she was halfway down the first of seven blocks that she head to traverse. Well the good thing about rain is it might keep all the low lives in the pens. She clip clopped away into the darkness the occasional flash of occasional twin headlight beams of car headlamps making up for the absence of proper street lighting.

The seventh of the nine blocks reached she was soaked to the skin and feeling cold and uncomfortable. She thought about the Winter fur that had found its way to the pawn shop when she suffered a dry spell in the work department  several months back. This Salvation Army special cloth coat wasn’t worth shit in a light breeze. The light’s were dimmed in the back of the crummy old apartment that Harold  hung about. The rest of the windows looked more like carved hollows from a skull. The frequency of her pace picked up as she felt a pair of eyes that she could not see were staring at her. “God damn it!”, she said, “I hate this!” She turned to look over her left shoulder to see if there were any telltale shadows extending from the edge of the building that might be cast by one of the outside entry lights. But there was nothing. She was almost past the opposite end of the long swayback looking ‘cheez box’ when her heel hit a patch of broken cement and she went tumbling down to her knees with a loud screech. “Shit!”, she ranted bent over on both hands, I tore my goddamned stockings!” A big hand grabbed her shoulder and she let out another scream but this time much louder. The next thing she knew all had gone blank.

She woke up feeling sort of groggy wondering why she couldn’t see anything there being no light where ever she was. A rank smell of an old mildewed mattress swirled up into her nostrils. She tried to sit up but a big arm was laying on top of her like a tree trunk. Another odor of unwashed undershorts and rotten eggs hit her as the owner of the trunk moved his bare hairy leg over the two of hers. Harold was laying almost on top of her. A wave of anger hit her like an instantaneous burning fury but was extinguish equally fast when his weight shifted even more on top of her. ‘Hello!’ Harold mewed. “I love being this cozy, don’t you?” Janey felt like retching. This fat oily bastard was basically pinning her on a bare mattress in God knows what part of that decrepit shack of an apartment. His damp flabby abdomen nearly squeezing the air out of her diaphragm. he was wearing what had once been a T-shirt but seemed more like an oily rag three sizes too small and an incredibly rank stained set of briefs. “Let me up, will you!”, she said in a firm but even tone voice. Harold rolled off her a bit and she pulled herself out from under him and rose off the edge of the mattress. The room was not completely dark but dim. As she rose she hit her head and fell back onto her behind. Immediately two big hands swept around her chest and pressed hard around her breasts the fingertips seeking out the vertical fissure of the blouse. “You’ve got nice ‘tata’s”, Harold cooed in a childish tone. “I want to feel them, okay?” With that he pulled her bloused open one set of fingers pulling at her bra yanking that upward.

Before she could protest he had the jumble of the two pulled up to her neck over her face. “Ha ha ha!”, Harold crowed, “Are you ticklish?” And with that started grabbing at her flanks and belly and breasts pinching hard and poking as she tried to roll back and forward and away! As she strained to escape the rumpled clothing still half over her neck and elbow his hand yanked at the fron of her jeans and pulled them almost over her ass. The white of her buttocks subdivided by her crack was the target of the forefinger of the other hand as it joined the first pulling her panties along with her pants down past her knees. “My your so white and pretty!”, Harold sighed in a breathy exhale.  “I just want to touch you in places that I never touched before. A shiver came over Jainey now as having no other alternative to quickly break free she had to toss off her top garments to completely untangle her arms from their grip. “No!”, she spat firmly back, “I don’t want you to touch me anywhere!” “You don’t have the right to!” She twisted around almost out of his grip now with her ankles fouled in the folded over scrunch of her jeans and panties. His hands tightly gripped upon her ankle and one calf. She could see that a malevolent petulant frown was quickly forming on his face. “But I want to!”, he snarled.

She could feel his eyes upon her. Sweeping across her pointy little breasts to her abdomen quickly pumping air in and out like a small bellows. She felt them widen when they stopped at he crotch. “I wanta do it!”, he spat back” “Let’s do it, I never have!” Janey was at that point where escape was at best improbable. But the thought of this dirty foul smelling pig on top of her pushing his greasy dick inside her was unthinkable. She looked quickly from side to side carefully trying to see if there was something in arms reach that she could use to defend herself. His frustration at a boiling point he rolled forward and released the calf leaning hard over her thigh to grab at one of her arms to pull her to him. Her right hand darted back towards him her fingers cupped cat-like exposing her nails as she instinctively clawed at his bare arm. “Owww!” he hollered like some five year old! “You hurt me!” Her eyes opened wide startled by the fact that he had now taken a better grip upon her. They sat for a moment both frozen looking at each other. “I don’t want you to hurt me anymore!”, he blubbered. “So now I am going to have to tie you up!” With that he began to wind some clothes line around her captured wrist and then violently flipping her around in the opposite direction capturing her other wrist and tying the two tightly behind her. She tried to shake him off pulling and struggling as mightily as she could but he managed in a short while to have her laying face down on the stinking mattress with legs tied apart on its corners as her arms strained trying to break the bonds behind her back.

She kept rolling and struggled as much as was humanly possible until he felt his palm ram down hard on her lower back. “Pussie!”, he drooled as his other hand jammed down between her sweaty ass cheeks skipping into her anus for an instant then finding the back passage of her vagina opening. She grunted hard in pain as he tried to stuff her with a couple of his stubby fingers. “Tight!” he proclaimed with a leer. All she could think about in the instant was where was some unexpected hero with a gun like in a movie that could blow this asshole’s head off! The dirty motherfucker was trying to rip her opening apart with his thick fingers to stick his weasel into her. She could feel the tip of it bobbling around between her own asshole and her crotch trying to find purchase to find it’s way in. The room seemed to fill with a rotten smell of fishy foul breath as he began to grunt a harder and harder. The full weight of his whale-like blubber upon her. “Help!”, she began to scream at the top of her lungs mindlessly, “Help, someone!” “Please help me!” There was a smashing sound from somewhere close and the crash of a door being violently knocked open. Janey felt the weight of her rapist shift to his arms as he rose upward startled by the intervention. A loud bang followed by the immediate spray of something hit her like a blast of wind from a monsoon. The full weight of her aggressor fell flat upon her and then slid over to the side of the mattress with a bloody tangled stump of gore where there had been a head. She looked up into the blinding glare of a bright light.

“Are you alright maam?”, a male voice drawled? A figure came around into view on the opposite side of her and set about untying the ropes. The flashlight turned away revealing a police officer with his gun still drawn gripped in his right hand and his flashlight in the left. “Thank God that your friend Bill called the station and told us he hadn’t seen you tonight and that he thought that you might be in some danger!”, the other voice now disembodied said. Yeah, she said silently to herself. “Thank god! for Bill!”

[readbookywooks]

The Old Buffoon

THEY entered the room almost at the same moment that the elder came in from his bedroom. There were already in the cell, awaiting the elder, two monks of the hermitage, one the Father Librarian, and the other Father Paissy, a very learned man, so they said, in delicate health, though not old. There was also a tall young man, who looked about two and twenty, standing in the corner throughout the interview. He had a broad, fresh face, and clever, observant, narrow brown eyes, and was wearing ordinary dress. He was a divinity student, living under the protection of the monastery. His expression was one of unquestioning, but self-respecting, reverence. Being in a subordinate and dependent position, and so not on an equality with the guests, he did not greet them with a bow. Father Zossima was accompanied by a novice, and by Alyosha. The two monks rose and greeted him with a very deep bow, touching the ground with their fingers; then kissed his hand. Blessing them, the elder replied with as deep a reverence to them, and asked their blessing. The whole ceremony was performed very seriously and with an appearance of feeling, not like an everyday rite. But Miusov fancied that it was all done with intentional impressiveness. He stood in front of the other visitors. He ought - he had reflected upon it the evening before -from simple politeness, since it was the custom here, to have gone up to receive the elder's blessing, even if he did not kiss his hand. But when he saw all this bowing and kissing on the part of the monks he instantly changed his mind. With dignified gravity he made a rather deep, conventional bow, and moved away to a chair. Fyodor Pavlovitch did the same, mimicking Miusov like an ape. Ivan bowed with great dignity and courtesy, but he too kept his hands at his sides, while Kalganov was so confused that he did not bow at all. The elder let fall the hand raised to bless them, and bowing to them again, asked them all to sit down. The blood rushed to Alyosha's cheeks. He was ashamed. His forebodings were coming true. Father Zossima sat down on a very old-fashioned mahogany sofa, covered with leather, and made his visitors sit down in a row along the opposite wall on four mahogany chairs, covered with shabby black leather. The monks sat, one at the door and the other at the window. The divinity student, the novice, and Alyosha remained standing. The cell was not very large and had a faded look. It contained nothing but the most necessary furniture, of coarse and poor quality. There were two pots of flowers in the window, and a number of holy pictures in the corner. Before one huge ancient ikon of the virgin a lamp was burning. Near it were two other holy pictures in shining settings, and, next them, carved cherubim, china eggs, a Catholic cross of ivory, with a Mater Dolorosa embracing it, and several foreign engravings from the great Italian artists of past centuries. Next to these costly and artistic engravings were several of the roughest Russian prints of saints and martyrs, such as are sold for a few farthings at all the fairs. On the other walls were portraits of Russian bishops, past and present. Miusov took a cursory glance at all these "conventional" surroundings and bent an intent look upon the elder. He had a high opinion of his own insight a weakness excusable in him as he was fifty, an age at which a clever man of the world of established position can hardly help taking himself rather seriously. At the first moment he did not like Zossima. There was, indeed, something in the elder's face which many people besides Miusov might not have liked. He was a short, bent, little man, with very weak legs, and though he was only sixty-five, he looked at least ten years older. His face was very thin and covered with a network of fine wrinkles, particularly numerous about his eyes, which were small, light-coloured, quick, and shining like two bright points. He had a sprinkling of grey hair about his temples. His pointed beard was small and scanty, and his lips, which smiled frequently, were as thin as two threads. His nose was not long, but sharp, like a bird's beak. "To all appearances a malicious soul, full of petty pride," thought Miusov. He felt altogether dissatisfied with his position. A cheap little clock on the wall struck twelve hurriedly, and served to begin the conversation. "Precisely to our time," cried Fyodor Pavlovitch, "but no sign of my son, Dmitri. I apologise for him, sacred elder!" (Alyosha shuddered all over at "sacred elder".) "I am always punctual myself, minute for minute, remembering that punctuality is the courtesy of kings.... "But you are not a king, anyway," Miusov muttered, losing his self-restraint at once. "Yes; that's true. I'm not a king, and, would you believe it, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, I was aware of that myself. But, there! I always say the wrong thing. Your reverence," he cried, with sudden pathos, "you behold before you a buffoon in earnest! I introduce myself as such. It's an old habit, alas! And if I sometimes talk nonsense out of place it's with an object, with the object of amusing people and making myself agreeable. One must be agreeable, mustn't one? I was seven years ago in a little town where I had business, and I made friends with some merchants there. We went to the captain of police because we had to see him about something, and to ask him to dine with us. He was a tall, fat, fair, sulky man, the most dangerous type in such cases. It's their liver. I went straight up to him, and with the ease of a man of the world, you know, 'Mr. Ispravnik,' said I, 'be our Napravnik.' 'What do you mean by Napravnik?' said he. I saw, at the first half-second, that it had missed fire. He stood there so glum. 'I wanted to make a joke,' said I, 'for the general diversion, as Mr. Napravnik is our well-known Russian orchestra conductor and what we need for the harmony of our undertaking is someone of that sort.' And I explained my comparison very reasonably, didn't I? 'Excuse me,' said he, 'I am an Ispravnik, and I do not allow puns to be made on my calling.' He turned and walked away. I followed him, shouting, 'Yes, yes, you are an Ispravnik, not a Napravnik.' 'No,' he said, 'since you called me a Napravnik I am one.' And would you believe it, it ruined our business! And I'm always like that, always like that. Always injuring myself with my politeness. Once, many years ago, I said to an influential person: 'Your wife is a ticklish lady,' in an honourable sense, of the moral qualities, so to speak. But he asked me, 'Why, have you tickled her?' I thought I'd be polite, so I couldn't help saying, 'Yes,' and he gave me a fine tickling on the spot. Only that happened long ago, so I'm not ashamed to tell the story. I'm always injuring myself like that." "You're doing it now," muttered Miusov, with disgust. Father Zossima scrutinised them both in silence. "Am I? Would you believe it, I was aware of that, too, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, and let tell you, indeed, I foresaw I should as soon as I began to speak. And do you know I foresaw, too, that you'd be the first to remark on it. The minute I see my joke isn't coming off, your reverence, both my cheeks feel as though they were drawn down to the lower jaw and there is almost a spasm in them. That's been so since I was young, when I had to make jokes for my living in noblemen's families. I am an inveterate buffoon, and have been from birth up, your reverence, it's as though it were a craze in me. I dare say it's a devil within me. But only a little one. A more serious one would have chosen another lodging. But not your soul, Pyotr Alexandrovitch; you're not a lodging worth having either. But I do believe - I believe in God, though I have had doubts of late. But now I sit and await words of wisdom. I'm like the philosopher, Diderot, your reverence. Did you ever hear, most Holy Father, how Diderot went to see the Metropolitan Platon, in the time of the Empress Catherine? He went in and said straight out, 'There is no God.' To which the great bishop lifted up his finger and answered, 'The fool has said in his heart there is no God and he fell down at his feet on the spot. 'I believe,' he cried, 'and will be christened.' And so he was. Princess Dashkov was his godmother, and Potyomkin his godfather." "Fyodor Pavlovitch, this is unbearable! You know you're telling lies and that that stupid anecdote isn't true. Why are you playing the fool?" cried Miusov in a shaking voice. "I suspected all my life that it wasn't true," Fyodor Pavlovitch cried with conviction. "But I'll tell you the whole truth, gentlemen. Great elder! Forgive me, the last thing about Diderot's christening I made up just now. I never thought of it before. I made it up to add piquancy. I play the fool, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, to make myself agreeable. Though I really don't know myself, sometimes, what I do it for. And as for Diderot, I heard as far as 'the fool hath said in his heart' twenty times from the gentry about here when I was young. I heard your aunt, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, tell the story. They all believe to this day that the infidel Diderot came to dispute about God with the Metropolitan Platon...." Miusov got up, forgetting himself in his impatience. He was furious, and conscious of being ridiculous. What was taking place in the cell was really incredible. For forty or fifty years past, from the times of former elders, no visitors had entered that cell without feelings of the profoundest veneration. Almost everyone admitted to the cell felt that a great favour was being shown him. Many remained kneeling during the whole visit. Of those visitors, many had been men of high rank and learning, some even free thinkers, attracted by curiosity, but all without exception had shown the profoundest reverence and delicacy, for here there was no question of money, but only, on the one side love and kindness, and on the other penitence and eager desire to decide some spiritual problem or crisis. So that such buffoonery amazed and bewildered the spectators, or at least some of them. The monks, with unchanged countenances, waited, with earnest attention, to hear what the elder would say, but seemed on the point of standing up, like Miusov. Alyosha stood, with hanging head, on the verge of tears. What seemed to him strangest of all was that his brother Ivan, on whom alone he had rested his hopes, and who alone had such influence on his father that he could have stopped him, sat now quite unmoved, with downcast eyes, apparently waiting with interest to see how it would end, as though he had nothing to do with it. Alyosha did not dare to look at Rakitin, the divinity student, whom he knew almost intimately. He alone in the monastery knew Rakitin's thoughts. "Forgive me," began Miusov, addressing Father Zossima, "for perhaps I seem to be taking part in this shameful foolery. I made a mistake in believing that even a man like Fyodor Pavlovitch would understand what was due on a visit to so honoured a personage. I did not suppose I should have to apologise simply for having come with him...." Pyotr Alexandrovitch could say no more, and was about to leave the room, overwhelmed with confusion. "Don't distress yourself, I beg." The elder got on to his feeble legs, and taking Pyotr Alexandrovitch by both hands, made him sit down again. "I beg you not to disturb yourself. I particularly beg you to be my guest." And with a bow he went back and sat down again on his little sofa. "Great elder, speak! Do I annoy you by my vivacity?" Fyodor Pavlovitch cried suddenly, clutching the arms of his chair in both hands, as though ready to leap up from it if the answer were unfavourable. "I earnestly beg you, too, not to disturb yourself, and not to be uneasy," the elder said impressively. "Do not trouble. Make yourself quite at home. And, above all, do not be so ashamed of yourself, for that is at the root of it all." "Quite at home? To be my natural self? Oh, that is much too much, but I accept it with grateful joy. Do you know, blessed father, you'd better not invite me to be my natural self. Don't risk it.... I will not go so far as that myself. I warn you for your own sake. Well, the rest is still plunged in the mists of uncertainty, though there are people who'd be pleased to describe me for you. I mean that for you, Pyotr Alexandrovitch. But as for you, holy being, let me tell you, I am brimming over with ecstasy." He got up, and throwing up his hands, declaimed, "Blessed be the womb that bare thee, and the paps that gave thee suck - the paps especially. When you said just now, 'Don't be so ashamed of yourself, for that is at the root of it all,' you pierced right through me by that remark, and read me to the core. Indeed, I always feel when I meet people that I am lower than all, and that they all take me for a buffoon. So I say, 'Let me really play the buffoon. I am not afraid of your opinion, for you are every one of you worse than I am.' That is why I am a buffoon. It is from shame, great elder, from shame; it's simply over-sensitiveness that makes me rowdy. If I had only been sure that everyone would accept me as the kindest and wisest of men, oh, Lord, what a good man I should have been then! Teacher!" he fell suddenly on his knees, "what must I do to gain eternal life?" It was difficult even now to decide whether he was joking or really moved. Father Zossima, lifting his eyes, looked at him, and said with a smile: "You have known for a long time what you must do. You have sense enough: don't give way to drunkenness and incontinence of speech; don't give way to sensual lust; and, above all, to the love of money. And close your taverns. If you can't close all, at least two or three. And, above all - don't lie." "You mean about Diderot?" "No, not about Diderot. Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself. The man who lies to himself can be more easily offended than anyone. You know it is sometimes very pleasant to take offence, isn't it? A man may know that nobody has insulted him, but that he has invented the insult for himself, has lied and exaggerated to make it picturesque, has caught at a word and made a mountain out of a molehill - he knows that himself, yet he will be the first to take offence, and will revel in his resentment till he feels great pleasure in it, and so pass to genuine vindictiveness. But get up, sit down, I beg you. All this, too, is deceitful posturing...." "Blessed man! Give me your hand to kiss." Fyodor Pavlovitch skipped up, and imprinted a rapid kiss on the elder's thin hand. "It is, it is pleasant to take offence. You said that so well, as I never heard it before. Yes, I have been all my life taking offence, to please myself, taking offence on aesthetic grounds, for it is not so much pleasant as distinguished sometimes to be insulted -that you had forgotten, great elder, it is distinguished! I shall make a note of that. But I have been lying, lying positively my whole life long, every day and hour of it. Of a truth, I am a lie, and the father of lies. Though I believe I am not the father of lies. I am getting mixed in my texts. Say, the son of lies, and that will be enough. Only... my angel... may sometimes talk about Diderot! Diderot will do no harm, though sometimes a word will do harm. Great elder, by the way, I was forgetting, though I had been meaning for the last two years to come here on purpose to ask and to find out something. Only do tell Pyotr Alexandrovitch not to interrupt me. Here is my question: Is it true, great Father, that the story is told somewhere in the Lives of the Saints of a holy saint martyred for his faith who, when his head was cut off at last, stood up, picked up his head, and, 'courteously kissing it,' walked a long way, carrying it in his hands. Is that true or not, honoured Father?" "No, it is untrue," said the elder. "There is nothing of the kind in all the lives of the saints. What saint do you say the story is told of?" asked the Father Librarian. "I do not know what saint. I do not know, and can't tell. I was deceived. I was told the story. I had heard it, and do you know who told it? Pyotr Alexandrovitch Miusov here, was so angry just now about Diderot. He it was who told the story." "I have never told it you, I never speak to you at all." "It is true you did not tell me, but you told it when I was present. It was three years ago. I mentioned it because by that ridiculous story you shook my faith, Pyotr Alexandrovitch. You knew nothing of it, but I went home with my faith shaken, and I have been getting more and more shaken ever since. Yes, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, you were the cause of a great fall. That was not a Diderot! Fyodor Pavlovitch got excited and pathetic, though it was perfectly clear to everyone by now that he was playing a part again. Yet Miusov was stung by his words. "What nonsense, and it is all nonsense," he muttered. "I may really have told it, some time or other... but not to you. I was told it myself. I heard it in Paris from a Frenchman. He told me it was read at our mass from the Lives of the Saints... he was a very learned man who had made a special study of Russian statistics and had lived a long time in Russia.... I have not read the Lives of the Saints myself, and I am not going to read them... all sorts of things are said at dinner - we were dining then." "Yes, you were dining then, and so I lost my faith!" said Fyodor Pavlovitch, mimicking him. "What do I care for your faith?" Miusov was on the point of shouting, but he suddenly checked himself, and said with contempt, "You defile everything you touch." The elder suddenly rose from his seat. "Excuse me, gentlemen, for leaving you a few minutes," he said, addressing all his guests. "I have visitors awaiting me who arrived before you. But don't you tell lies all the same," he added, turning to Fyodor Pavlovitch with a good-humoured face. He went out of the cell. Alyosha and the novice flew to escort him down the steps. Alyosha was breathless: he was glad to get away, but he was glad, too, that the elder was good-humoured and not offended. Father Zossima was going towards the portico to bless the people waiting for him there. But Fyodor Pavlovitch persisted, in stopping him at the door of the cell. "Blessed man!" he cried, with feeling. "Allow me to kiss your hand once more. Yes, with you I could still talk, I could still get on. Do you think I always lie and play the fool like this? Believe me, I have been acting like this all the time on purpose to try you. I have been testing you all the time to see whether I could get on with you. Is there room for my humility beside your pride? I am ready to give you a testimonial that one can get on with you! But now, I'll be quiet; I will keep quiet all the time. I'll sit in a chair and hold my tongue. Now it is for you to speak, Pyotr Alexandrovitch. You are the principal person left now - for ten minutes."

[mysurveys]

Random Qs

Survey #6 on the Countdown to 2018!

How do you dress when you’re not at work?

The only "work" I do is from home and I'm not in school, so I wear what I want.

What's your favorite thing about yourself?

I'm a strong personality and an individualist who's strong in their faith, but being so faithful to God is the best thing if I’ve chosen to be. It's the most important thing about me.

What can you tell me about the shirt you’re wearing? 

It's a pink PJ top with glittering black font reading "cattitude" on the front. It also has a glittering black cat above the text with white whiskers and a little pink heart-shaped nose. She wears pink frames with leopard print in the lenses.

What was the first thing you thought this morning?

I was asleep all morning long.

Who did you last say "I love you" to?

I don't remember, but it was probably either to my Mom or one of my other besties.

Are you wearing shorts?

I'm wearing Capri-cut PJ pants. They're white with black leopard spots and some of them have pink splotches inside.

Have you ever had a male best friend?

I typically have boy besties save for my mother, but I've currently got four male and two female besties.

Is it cute when someone calls you “baby”?

Eh. I'd rather that they only use petnames like that if I say it's okay beforehand and it's not that big of a deal to me beyond that.

Do your parents actually knock on your door before entering your room? 

Usually, but Mom might not if she's trying to wake me up.

Do you think sweatbands look hot on guys?

I don't care.

Have you ever thought a man over 40 was attractive?

Probably, but I can't guess people's ages and I usually disregard that kind of thing altogether. It doesn’t really matter. He’s still attractive either way.

Would you prefer to date someone taller, shorter or the same height as you?

I'd only go for a taller guy mostly because some of them feel emasculated by taller women, but the majority of them are taller than I am since I'm only 5'5". It's not much of a problem for me.

Can you honestly say you’re okay right now?

If I weren't okay then I would honestly say so, but I'm doing fine right now.

Is there a song that makes you think of a certain someone every time you hear it?

Not every single time, but some remind me of others now and then.

What can’t you wait for?

I can wait.

Are you ticklish?

Yes, in certain places.

Do you have a bad temper?

No. My actual anger is very rare.

What brand of digital camera do you own?

I only have some really old cam that takes pics and vids, but I haven't used it in ages.

Have you ever seen a Broadway show in New York?

I haven't, but that sounds fun.

Do you get drunk every weekend?

I don't get drunk at all since doing so is stupid.

What did you do today?

I slept a really long time unexpectedly after my bout of insomnia. I haven't done much but hang out with my cat Lucius in the front yard and then going online. I've mostly been doing surveys.

Are you listening to music right now?

No, I'm not. I'm just enjoying the quietness.

Do you like maxi dresses?

On others, I tend to like them.

Do you worry about guys thinking you’re hot?

Why would that be a worrisome thing exactly?

Are you healthy?

Hah! I have a lot of health problems and I ish t3h fat too.

Do you like the idea of promise rings in relationships?

Not really. I don't need a symbol of such.

Did you wear sunglasses today?

No. It was overcast outside.

If you straighten your hair, how long does it take?

I don't straighten it.

Can anyone in your immediate family play the guitar?

Not in my immediate family.

Why were you last frustrated?

I have to explain such simple things to my father to the point of annoyance.

Would you date someone eight years older than you?

I tend to date guys who're around four to six years older, but I would be open to going up to eight.

Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

I have several.

Do you have a friend of the same sex you can talk to?

I have only a couple I'd really open up to when it comes to conversing about my problems.

What's your secret weapon to lure the opposite sex?

A lack of secrecy itself. Men tend to be straightforward. I like that and it's how I roll.

What do you want to get accomplished today or tonight?

I'm not looking to accomplish much tonight. We'll just see what happens.

You’re single, right?

Yes. I'm interested in someone, but things are a bit complicated on that front.

Do you like the snow?

I love snow and cold weather in general.

When was the last time you were told you were cute?

Recently.

Would you ever smile at a stranger?

I do sometimes.

Do you need to go shopping for anything?

Nothing that I can afford to buy right now. I need a new recliner, but I needed my new glasses more.

They're going to arrive in about a week and a half. Those were over $150. I'm getting new frames and prescription lenses that are scratch resistant and glare free. My eyes both got a bit worse.

How much have you changed in the last year or so?

Quite a bit has changed in my life and personality. It might be better to say that some new things have occurred and I've changed in persona since the start of last year.

I'm less aggravated when Bipolar takes over, I've started changing my diet while seeing a nutritionist, I've got a new outdoor cat who'll be able to come into my room once it's clean. Lots of change.

Do you have a favorite name and if so, what is it?

I have a few. My fave boy's names are Jack, Conrad, James, Symon, Sasuke and Makoto now. My fave girl's names are Katt, Katrina, Sakura, Momoka and Katarzyna now. It's all subject to change.

Do you wrap up warm in the cold weather?

If I feel the need to.

If you could live anywhere, where would you choose and why?

If we ever move away from southeast Texas then we might go to Payson, Arizona for many reasons. The weather is great and the place is beautiful. Or maybe we'd find somewhere in the vicinity.

Do you have any habits you’d like to break and if so, which?

I don't form habits as an HSP.

Have you ever wished to be an internet celebrity, or ow about a "real" one?

I haven't wished for either. I don't need the spotlight.

Have you kept any birthday cards from when you were younger?

I haven't. I never hold onto cards for any occasion.

Have you ever been kayaking?

No, but I'd be open to trying it.

Do you care too much about other people?

I don't feel that I do. It's the opposite regarding some people.

If you could have any animal as a pet, which would you choose?

If not another cat then we would want another dog when our current one passes away. We're thinking of getting a poodle for the sake of having a pet that doesn't shed a bunch of fur. Maybe it'll be a toy or mini poo.

What's your favorite piece of furniture that you own?

My quirky, eclectic white owl lamp base paired with a city skyline shade.

Do you still live with your parents?

I have to despite being 30 years old. I have DTD, dyscalculia and long-term memory problems; I absolutely need a caregiver.

Have you ever been told your aspirations are unrealistic?

No, but I know I don't have such a problem.

When were you last jealous and are you a jealous person?

I'm not a jealous type of person at all.

Do you ever think about embarrassing moments and cringe?

Not really. I don't feel that way very often and I can laugh at myself.

Do you believe you'll never get over someone?

I'm not such a defeatist nor am I codependent. Contentment in life comes from within and not from without.

Do you watch scary movies on your own?

Sure. I'm not that easily frightened and I love gotcha' moments. Scary, spooky, creepy types of stuff are cool.

What's your favorite family tradition?

We don't have many beyond the usual holiday celebrations. I don't have a favorite.