#who knows not Jayne that's for sure

[wingsy-keeper-of-songs]

Debating on whether or not I want to give my "wild child" Shepard a thresher maw tattoo or not. You live through an attack that killed your whole ass squad, you're the daughter of a decorated Alliance Admiral, have spent your childhood on space stations while having impossibly high expectations thrown at you by an entire military? A girl might as well get herself a tattoo, right?

[idiopathicsmile]

I've been thinking about American diner lingo lately.

Like, relaying an order for poached eggs on toast as “Adam and Eve on a raft.” Or “shingles with a shimmy and shake” for buttered toast with jam.

(I personally learned about this phenomenon as a very young child because we had a picture book where a bear and an elephant are roommates and temp workers and they get a job at a diner for a while. Couldn't tell you why this streamed back into my brain like a week ago, but here we are.)

I'm not sure I can articulate this but there is something so beautiful to me about it. We as a culture know so little about its origins—maybe the 1870s, maybe the 1880s—or even really why it exists.

Wikipedia (yes I wikipedia'd this, yes I feel actual embarrassment about the lack of academic rigor in this aimless tumblr post but also there is also just not a ton of information on the topic) suggests that some diner lingo might've been mnemonic devices for short order cooks to remember specific dishes but honestly scroll through any list and you'll find it mostly isn't that. What it reads like is bored food service workers, mostly in the 1920s through 1970s, looking for a way to amuse or at least entertain themselves.

Milk is “moo juice.” Jell-o becomes “nervous pudding.” Black coffee is “a mug of murk.”

Western history loves its individual heroes, but my guess is the practice arose organically at multiple luncheon spots across the US. We don't know the names of the servers and cooks who came up with the terms but a few of the terms have survived, in a fashion—as wider used slang (“Joe” for coffee), as a vintage-y affectation in quirky restaurants of the present, and in compendiums of self-consciously useless factoids (oysters wrapped in bacon are transmuted into “angels on horseback”). It's something about the ordinary people of the world of the past, the tiny fossils we leave behind without even knowing it. One unknown day in history, someone then working as a diner employee thought to call a tall stack of pancakes “Jayne Mansfield” because for some reason it made their day a little better, and this somehow caught on to the point where I can, without doing much work, still find multiple written sources insisting it happened. It wasn't a marketer or a CEO somewhere, it was just a bunch service workers passing the time and leaving the slightest little linguistic footprints behind.

I don't know. Imagine if one of your inside jokes from work was still being spread by offbeat trivia lovers a hundred years from now.

[sowritten]

TO WONG FOO, THANKS FOR EVERYTHING! JULIE NEWMAR

feel free to edit pronouns, etc. as needed

If we're going to be friends, there really is something I should tell you.

I can tell you one thing about them founding fathers of America; they sure had fabulous wigs.

Your approval is not needed.

I've waited my whole life to hear those words. And I'm very, very, very happy that you're the one to say them.

Nothin' this pretty could be real.

What in gay hell?

Looks like it's the age-old dilemma: style, or substance?

I think of you as an angel.

I think that's healthy!

Do you ever, like, not cry in this room?

Baby, you can have him.

I got a million dream lovers, alright?

I've got a broken heart for every light on Broadway. And when one of them goes out, I just screw in another one, okay, hello good-bye.

I'm the Latina Marilyn Monroe. I've got more legs than a bucket of chicken!

I didn't ask to come on this trip, did I? No, I don't think so!

As soon as we get to the next town I am jumping on the first man and riding him all the way to New York City and away from you 'cause this trip sucks! It sucks!

How do I look?

I don't know who he is, but if there's a snowstorm tonight, he's going on my tires.

Since you have obviously learned nothing, I am hereby stripping you of all your princess points.

I don't need a dream. I have a plan.

That might be all fine and dandy but you still have a lot more to learn.

Does everything have to be a joke with you?

This is not a masquerade! This is real life!

Oh, my God, I'm like a compass near north.

You have the potential of a lifetime and you are squandering it.

I want you to turn your swayback little self around on those Robert Clergerie Knockoffs and get back in this car.

Larger than life is just the right size.

No one is so rich as to throw away a friend.

I'll bet you were the brightest in your class, weren't you?

I feel like Miss Jayne Mansfield in this car.

You gotta take chances, because you never know, you know what I mean?

I'm not gonna worry about if people accept me or not.

I'm gonna make Hollywood wherever I am at.

I want you to believe in yourself, imagine good things and moisturize, I cannot stress this enough.

There are times when you help people, and then there are times when if you help people, you end up being killed.

Go on and talk to him, you speak honky!

This America does not respond kindly to our sort of person.

No one say anything frivolous for the next few moments.

I am having a significant experience.

Try to describe her and not use the word "statuesque".

I've had enough of this conversation, I'm hungry.

Let's just relax. It's gonna be alright.

A car? Mary Alice Louise, no. This is a land yacht.

How you gonna hitchhike if there are no cars, stupid?

I'm not rich, my parents are.

It's like living in a Tex Avery cartoon.

Live life before it lives you.

If you want them to know there is steak for dinner, you got to let them hear it sizzle! Understand?

You ruin my language and I still love you.

I think I'm gonna black out.

Why is he on the ground?

I am not going upstairs with you.

If you were my girl, you'd never cry for anything, except maybe for happiness.

I think tomorrow is a "Say Something" hat day.

Lets throw you a pity party.

You're gonna be second class and you're gonna be second rate your whole life.

Don't quote me but I think this one is decease-ed.

Actin' real proud of yourself just like a New York City girl.

I tell you where I'm going, I ain't going nowhere.

If I was your bread, would you be my butter?

[imperatorcaesaraugustus]

you know what time it is! it's the long-awaited (?) return of Thought D: Thoughts on Hot D, where i tell everyone what's going through my head immediately after watching House of the Dragon.

season 2, episode 1

love the new intro. much better than the season 1 intro

there's no Daeron (Viserys and Allicent's third son in the books, who was being fostered by his great uncle in Oldtown). this is a massive disappointment for me, and i have little hopes of it being rectified

it would have been nice to see more of Cregan Stark and anything at all of Jayne Arryn. really expected Jace to spend more time in the north than that. still, liked what i saw. love that they mentioned how the dragons refused to cross the wall

good to know that criston cole is still... performing his duties

Alyn of Hull!

was that Hugh Hammer in the throne room? what the hell is he doing in King's Landing?

it seems incredibly risky for Rhaenyra to be flying unaccompanied in the stormlands after they've declared for Aegon

Larys' motives are a complete mystery to me right now, which is very book-accurate

those balls in the small council room have been nothing but a liability. no wonder they're not there by the time Game of Thrones happens

i was not expecting to see Mysaria or her Accent this episode, but i'm glad we did because i like Mysaria and her Accent

more of the runtime was Blood and Cheese than i was expecting

(for those unfamiliar with Fire and Blood - which, to be clear, is entirely reasonable - the killing of Jahaerys in the books is done by a butcher and a rat catcher. their names are unknown, so the book refers to them as Blood and Cheese. no names were given in the show, so i will also refer to them as such)

changing the intended target to Aemond (it was always supposed to be one of Aegon's sons in the book) is interesting. it makes Daemon a less detestable character (which was certainly unintentional, given what i've heard about the showrunner's opinions on Daemon), but gives a weird amount of agency to Blood and Cheese

"they have different rat catchers for upstairs" what is this? why is this? what are you on about?

surely they did not have to walk directly across the throne room. surely there was another route

this assassination is such a clusterfuck

i didn't realize until now that Aegon doesn't have a younger son in the show like he does in the book

in the book, Helena is forced to choose which of her sons - Jahaerys or Maegor(?) - gets killed. she chooses Maegor, so they kill Jahaerys. changing that so instead they can't differentiate Jahaerys and Jahaera definitely makes them less cartoonishly evil and more weirdly hapless

actually this whole Blood and Cheese thing is weirdly hapless from start to end

can't believe she just walks in on criston fucking Allicent. surely they would have taken any amount of precaution to prevent people from doing that

so, when Allicent is in the sept, she says three names as she lights the candles: Alerie Florent, Viserys Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon. now, i am more likely than most people to recognize an obscure Ice and Fire name drop, but i do not know who the fuck Alerie Florent is. based on the fact that she is a) apparently dead, b) presumably important to Allicent, and c) from a major house of the Reach, i assume she's Allicent's mother, but i don't recall that name ever having been given before now

anyway, i'm still enjoying the show and can't wait for next week

[starlsssankt]

@dhampiravidi / *

The Darkling nodded, but it was all he could do to stay focused as Jayn headed off in search of Genya. Every little part of what had transpired played like a film in his mind. Where the mistakes had potentially been, what could have done differently. He stared into the flickering flames of the fire, almost transfixed by them.

He'd been the only one that he'd known that had gotten out of the Fold, after Alina had ran. He'd seen no others, and the Grisha he had found since--those captured by the First Army and others--had been in outposts or other camps...

None from the skiff that had made its way through the Fold.

And he knew he'd dozed off a bit, the pain in his side aching--but not enough that the exhaustion that weighed on Aleksander's shoulders didn't overcome him. Even as he waited, and he thought, and a part of him worried--

Eyes blinked open when he heard Jayn approach, when he sensed her. Or maybe it was the whispering of the shadows, his nichevo'ya, that had stirred him awake in warning of the potential threat--even if the Darkling knew no such threat existed among them here.

He'd made sure of it.

Lifting his gaze to Genya, who stood beside Jayn now, the Darkling did his best to straighten in the chair, to hold back the wince and hiss as the movement pulled at his side. ❝ I do believe I require your specific touch, Genya. ❞ His words were soft, yet heavy. Tired.

He couldn't hide every ounce of exhaustion that held him down.

Genya nodded, even as she trembled a little. She'd almost died at the hands of First Army--it was because of the General that she wasn't destroyed, so the least she could do was help heal him, right? Even if her skills weren't as adept as some of the other Healers... ❝ Of course. I'll... I'll do whatever I can... ❞

She knelt closer, her hands moving over the wound in his side, the scars cut deep into his face. Aleksander did his best to refrain from showing how much it hurt, how much his very blood seemed to burn. Healing shouldn't have hurt like this, and yet--

He wouldn't question if it was the intense use of merzost. No, that would only make his mother right about something, and Aleksander refused to let her be so.

Not after the chaos she'd caused, not after all the plans had come falling apart because of her interference with his Sun Summoner...

Aleksander's breathing grew heavier as he held back the pain, as he dealt with it like he had as a boy, while Genya tried to heal the worst of the injuries, at the very least. It was only when he lifted a hand, a hissed cry leaving him as the pain just became too much, too much--that Genya paused, pulling her hands back.

❝ I-- I'm sorry. It... I don't know what's wrong, why it won't work... ❞ Her voice was soft, almost as if Genya didn't want to upset the Darkling. He blinked, pushed the tiredness away, and glanced at a reflective mirror that hung above the mantle.

The wound in his side was mostly healed; it wouldn't get worse and it wouldn't kill him, which he supposed was the main thing. The cuts from the volcras' claws on his face were still there; thinner, healed for the most part, but they wouldn't fade completely. Perhaps that was the price for the merzost--survival, yes, but a mark on his very body and soul of what he'd done.

Aleksander shook his head, and he exhaled a slow breath as his blood stopped burning. ❝ No need to apologize for something you cannot control, Genya, ❞ he murmured, feeling at least like he was able to stand and move without falling over, without struggling. ❝ Make sure we're protected here, ❞ he told her as he nodded towards the door. ❝ I'm sure David, at the very least, will have a few ideas on defenses. ❞

[makethatelevenrings]

Hear me out… “can we go home?” Prompt as a part 2 to “did I do good?”

this got long and i applied to jobs and had an identity crisis in the middle of writing it, hope u enjoy LMAO

TW: discussions of the explosion from "did I do good?" and medical talk wheeeee

You were growing tired of the hospital.

The pain meds warded off the sharp bite of pain everytime you moved, but they also kept your head in a continual fuzzy state. Sleep released its hold on you for only an hour or so before another dose of medicine sent you back under the veil of dreams.

Whenever you were awake, you found one or more of your children propped up in a chair in the corner of the room. Dick would be furiously jabbing his knitting needles into the air as a new project materialized between his fingers. Cass joined him occasionally, but sometimes she scooted her chair closer to your side, her slim fingers encased around yours, and watched whatever show played on the television. You were partial to Animal Planet so that meant she sat through hours of shark week and River Monsters.

Jason read, of course, sometimes silently and sometimes, when it was just him and you, he read aloud. His soft baritone voice was a comfort over the occasional beeps and shrieks of alarms out in the hall. Tim made sure to come by at the same time everyday so the two of you could watch Jeopardy and then Real Housewives. Although you were usually high off your ass because of the pain meds, you made sure to let him know what a fucking liar Erika Jayne was.

Stephanie, your little demonic angel, propped herself up in the chair next to your bed and played Sims, the sound of her laptop a steady thrum that helped put you to sleep. Your own personal white noise machine. Damian drew in his sketchbook, quiet as always, but he made sure to bring it to you during your moments of lucidity so you could see his art. Duke, however, was the hardest to pry away from your bedside. You understood his hesitation at leaving another parent at a medical center. So you didn’t say anything if you woke up to find him seated next to you, one of your hands in his, as he muddled over another crossword puzzle.

Alfred came by numerous times everyday. He brought treats for the nurses, creature comforts from home for you, and made sure that the children didn’t stay too long. You insisted that they lived their lives outside of the hospital, even their night jobs. Alfred checked over what foods you were receiving from the dining services, humming and marking down nutritional values and if you were getting enough calories. He always plied you with cookies every time he visited and ensured you were eating enough protein to help your wound heal faster. The vase of golden sunflowers next to your bed were always fresh and replenished so you suspected Alfred ensured that they were always replaced when they started to wilt.

But one person didn’t show.

You tried to not dwell on the fact that Bruce never once made an appearance. Even Clark and Diana had dropped by with flowers and well wishes. But your husband remained his usual disappearing act. You didn’t understand why and frankly, you didn’t care. For years you tried to remind Bruce that he wasn’t always Batman. He was a father and husband and friend, both inside and outside of the suit, yet it felt like as time went further, he forgot more of who he was.

It was fine. You had Alfred and your kids. Their love made you wish you could wrap your arms around them, but these damn IVs wouldn’t let you. You knew they were just as disappointed in Bruce as you were, but nothing anyone said would change things.

Until you turned on the news one night and saw the headlines that the perpetrators of the explosion at the Wayne Gala had been caught and the entire organization eradicated. The group had been targeting the Wayne family, reporters said, and they blamed you for the unemployment rate and food insecurity in the city. Well, hell, your family had been working to eradicate the wage gap and food deserts for years, but if anyone was to get hurt, you were glad it was you.

Three broken ribs, a punctured liver, internal bleeding, a concussion, and your body one giant bruise meant that your kids were safe. You would place yourself between them and the blast every single time.

The news cameras zoomed in on the bodies that were slumped against the front of the police headquarters. Faces bloodied and raw, the men stared back at the camera with haunted eyes and your breathing hitched just slightly when you recognized the mark carved into one man’s forehead.

A bat.

“Mrs. Wayne?” Geraldine, one of the day shift nurses, called from the door to your room. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you replied. “I just saw the news.”

The kindly older woman bustled in with one of the new nurses on her heels. The two women had been working three nights a week for the time you had been on the floor and you appreciated their steady, comforting nature. They had both been a little thrown when the Waynes of Gotham showed up on their floor but once you asked Geraldine to treat you like a normal person, she warmed up to you like a grandmother.

“How ya feelin’, sweets?” she asked. Every few hours they checked your vitals and incision spots to ensure that you were healing well and no infection was growing.

“Listen, I love you ladies. But if I have to stay here any longer, I might snap.”

They laughed at your comment and Farah, the fledgling nurse who followed Geraldine like a baby goose after its mama, focused on checking your incisions while Geraldine marked down your vitals.

“You’re so close to being free,” Geraldine promised. “Dr. Huerta will come by later today to check everything and hopefully, you’ll be out in a day or two.”

“Am I the last one to be discharged?” While you were the most seriously injured due to your proximity to the blast, a few people were also brought into Gotham General with varying injuries.

“Yep,” Farah hummed. “They’re all home and Mr. Wayne said he would pay for their bills.”

That made you pause. Farah’s head raised the second the words came out of her mouth and Geraldine turned sharply in her direction. Farah grimaced and sighed. “Sorry, I know he told us not to say anything.”

Your lips parted in shock and you glanced between the two women. “He called the hospital?”

Geraldine sighed and approached your bed. She reached out and clasped your hand between hers and gave you a kind smile.

“He’s been here everyday, sweets. Only leaves at night before he’s back in the morning. He just sits in the waiting room, looking like death warmed over. I keep tellin’ him that he should at least come talk to you, but he refuses unless he knows you’re asleep. Who do you think keeps bringing those flowers?”

“I don’t understand.” Your brow furrowed. “Why the fuck is he here if he won’t even talk to me? Why has no one told me?”

Geraldine pursed her lips and then she patted your hands. “Sometimes, men are stupid.”

That elicited a snort from Farah but Geraldine wasn’t finished. “I think, sweets, that he blames himself and he can’t bring himself to see you when you’re awake because he’s terrified that you’ll hate him.”

You glanced between the two women and narrowed your eyes. “What else has he done?”

They launched into a list of things. Your favorite blanket that you kept in the study at home was draped across your legs because of Bruce, the nurses were now being paid more because of his meeting with the hospital executives (and subsequent buyout of the Gotham General system so that meant more paperwork for you to deal with when you got out), and many other things. Bruce, silent as he was, operated without a word to you because he was so fucking scared that you hated him.

“Is he out there? Right now?” you asked once they trailed off.

“Yeah,” Farah sighed. “The more coffee he drinks from the cafeteria, the more I think we’re going to have to admit him soon for cardiac arrest.”

“Bring my husband in, please. If he fights you on it, tell him to stop being such a fucking coward.”

Geraldine let out a delighted laugh and practically skipped out of the room, clearly excited to give Bruce Wayne a run for his money. Farah waited patiently at your bedside and you were grateful that she didn’t abandon you right now.

Light footsteps grew closer to the door and you heard the soft creak of the hinges until he was standing before you. His hair was shaggy and unkempt and a five o’clock shadow clung to his jaw. Bruce was still in his usual daytime uniform of slacks and a button down, but the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his entire ensemble was wrinkled.

“Thank you,” you said to the nurses. They vacated the room quickly, leaving you two just staring at each other. Bruce cleared his throat and glanced towards the door as if he was preparing to leave, but you pointed your finger at him and he froze midstep.

“Sit your ass down, Wayne,” you ordered. He started towards the chairs in the corner but you let out a disapproving noise and he turned to where you were pointing. Bruce sighed and trudged over to the hospital bed you were lying in. His eyes searched your face for any sign of anger or discomfort as he sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“Bruce Thomas Wayne,” you began. “You stupid man.”

Your hand curled around his and you brought it to your lips, brushing a kiss against his palm. He sucked in a tight breath and you enclosed his fingers around your love.

“I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you think.”

“I should have stopped them sooner. I should have never let this happen to you. I-”

You smoothed a hand down his forearm. “You didn’t let anything happen to me. It happened because people wanted to hurt me. You can’t stop them from their thoughts or their anger, Bruce. You can’t change the way people feel. You can only do as much as you can and you and I both know that.”

He shut his eyes and sighed. Bags cradled his eyes, shadowing the bright blue pupils you woke up to every morning. The lines on his face deepened and he looked as if he aged ten years since you last saw him.

“How can you stand to be near me?” he croaked out. You reached up and tucked some of his dark hair out of his face before cradling his jaw.

“Because I like because, Bruce, and I love despite. I love you despite how many times you make me want to tear my hair out. I love you despite your self-flagellation tendencies. I love you despite the fact that there is something deeply psychologically wrong with you.” He chuckled at your teasing remark and leaned into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed against the soft skin of your wrist.

“I know you are,” you assured him. “But you’re still going to grovel so damn much.”

“Whatever you wish for, you will get.”

You considered his words for a moment and hummed to yourself. “You have to take Damian to the art museum and cannot look at your phone once.”

“Easy.” He ghosted his lips against your wrist and you shivered at the soft touch.

“Okay. How about letting Stephanie drive the car next time?”

He grimaced, obviously knowing you meant the Batmobile and thinking about the blonde’s tendency to take wide turns. “Fine.” He kissed your brow, right over some stitches as if he could heal them with just a tender touch.

“You have to shake hands with Hal Jordan and tell him he’s doing a good job.”

“You’re a fucking menace.” Bruce dipped his head down to kiss you sweetly, but you were grinning too much to let it last.

“Can we go home now?” you whispered against his lips. “I just want to be in bed with you. I’m sick of the food here.”

He cradled your head against his chin and sighed, his breath washing across your skin. Bruce was so careful with you as to not aggravate any of your injuries. For as idiotic as he could be in the emotions department, he knew exactly what to do to comfort you physically.

“Soon, my love. And I will wait on you hand and foot. I’ll never let anything happen to you again. Ever. I swear.”

“I know.” But you didn’t take his promise to heart. Not in your line of work. He could guarantee that the sun would rise in the morning and set in the evening, but no one could promise that the scythe of death wouldn’t come calling any minute.

But you would let him hold you and make promises. It would make him feel better and that, in and of itself, was a gift.

[athzhowakar]

Maegor's Fat Queen

Summary:

What if King Maegor had accepted the proposal of Lord Alton Butterwell and married his ‘stout’ widowed sister who, though no great beauty, had given birth to seven children?

Lord Alton Butterwell's sister's name is not mentioned in 'Fire and Blood'. So, let me give her a name.

Her name will be Lady Jayne Butterwell.

WARNING: 18+ content

Maegor's POV:

King Maegor entered the marital chambers. Being the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, he had enjoyed numerous women. However, none of them had been fat or ugly. When Lord Butterwell suggested his sister as a match for him, he had been scornful. But desperate times call for measures like this. He is in need of an heir. If bedding a woman like that would help him produce an heir, so be it.

The wedding had everything that was needed for it to be called a royal wedding, save for a bedding ceremony of course. But that bedding ceremony had been refused by the king himself. He remembered the look of his niece Rhaena's face when he had announced that there would be no bedding ceremony. She was mocking him and she made sure he knew.

“The tongues will silence once I have an heir,” he said to himself, as he walked closer to his newly wedded wife.

“Your Grace,” the woman called out.

Maegor remained silent and looked at her from head to toe. She was fat indeed. She was younger than him by half a decade, or perhaps more. And the seven childbirths had taken a toll on her youthful body. He wondered what she looked like before she was wedded and bedded. She was much shorter than him. Maegor was even taller than his father and built like a bull. It was quite natural that he had never met any woman of his size.

“My little fat wife,” Maegor said as he held her chin and made her look at him.

She smirked at him. Not understanding the reason behind that smirk, he asked, “Why are you smirking?”

“I am imagining how the night is going to be, Husband,” she replied.

He raised an eyebrow and said to her, “Did you assume that you are a great beauty and I am going to fuck you all night without any pause? I am going to fuck you and that is beyond doubt. However, I am not sure if I will be enthusiastic about anything other than spilling my seeds in your cunt.”

Jayne said with a smile, “Your Grace, I am fat and I have more space for knowledge in my belly as compared to the petite women you fuck. I know many things.”

“We shall see what you know,” Maegor said, chuckling. He had not expected his new wife to speak like that and show eagerness.

She started unbuttoning his tunic. He stood still and watched what she was doing. Once she was done, she threw off the tunic on the ground and immediately grabbed and pressed the little rudimentary breasts on his chest. She was kneading them like flour. Maegor's breath quickened as she continued to touch them and suck them.

Just as she was doing so, Jayne felt a sharp pain in her buttock. Maegor had spanked her. As his hand made contact with the lumps of flesh on his wife, they jiggled. The feeling made Jayne gasp and the sight made Maegor giggle.

Maegor tore off his wife's gown. Taking it off slowly felt too time consuming. Once Jayne was fully naked in front of him, Maegor saw the largest pair of breasts that he had seen in his entire life. Certainly, he could not stop himself from touching them. He squeezed them and fondled them. He sucked them so hard that they were red.

Jayne lied on the bed and her husband was sitting on the bed. Maegor's hands were roaming all around her body. It was at that moment when he realized that — The fatter a woman is, the more there is in her body to love and fondle.

Jayne could not even keep her mouth shut for a moment. Maegor's lips, teeth, mouth and hands were making her crazy and she could not stop making sounds of pleasure.

She squeezed her eyes as he put two fingers inside her. Her cunt was so slippery that the fingers slid inside easily. Sometime later, another finger joined and very soon, two more fingers joined the fun.

“YOUR GR...ACE....!!!” she exclaimed as her cunt shot out her juices.

“It seems that you are enjoying it,”Maegor said.

“I absolutely love this,” Jayne replied with a chuckle.

That chuckle soon changed into screams of pleasure when Maegor put his cock in Jayne's cunt. Maegor was a good lover when he was enthusiastic and Jayne was no less than willing. So naturally, moans felt shy and gave place to screams.

Maegor spilled his seed into his wife's womb. When he was done, he wrapped his arms around her. “It is time to grow fatter with my child, my little fat wife,” Maegor whispered to her.

“Anything for my king,” she replied.

..

..

..

To be continued...

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #2

This is set post-Serenity!

part 2 part 3

xxx i’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back

Mal turns the water up, steam billowing around him. He usually likes his showers cold, brief, and to the point, but right now the hot water feels good on his stiff joints and aching muscles. He lets the water fall over him, eyes closed as he lets out a long breath and tries to relax. He’s been on edge lately, and he’s not sure why. Things have been quiet…maybe that’s the issue. He feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

He’s been around long enough to know that there’s always another shoe. 

He lets out a long sigh. 

“What’s the matter, Cap?”

Mal’s eyes snap open and he turns the water off, heart hammering. That sounded like…

No.

That’s impossible.

He shakes his head in an effort to clear it, sending droplets of water flying in every direction.

“C’mon,” he mutters to himself. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I dunno, stupid is kinda your default.”

Mal whirls around and startles so bad he almost falls. Wash is standing directly in front of him. Mal shuts his eyes tight and counts to ten and then opens them, and the pilot is gone. He takes a shaky breath and reaches for his towel.

“Gwai-gwai long duh dong…”

He’s imagining things. It’s exhaustion, maybe, or maybe his blood sugar is low? He’ll grab something to eat and hit the sack early, sleep whatever this is off. 

Things’ll be better in the morning.

xxx 

Things are not better in the morning. He wakes up feeling like death warmed over; every part of him hurts and he keeps getting chills down his spine. He opens his eyes and immediately closes them, letting out a groan. His head is pounding…The travel time between planets can be hard sometimes, but right now he’s grateful for it. It means he can get away with staying in his bunk a little longer.

“You gonna stay in bed all day?” 

Mal’s eyes snap open and he bolts upright, ignoring the ache that radiates through his body. He takes a few deep breaths. “You’re not real.”

“It’s funny, you saying that out loud. Who, exactly, are you trying to convince?” Wash (Not Wash, Mal reminds himself) brushes his nose with one hand then points at Mal. “You’ve got a little something.”

Mal reaches up to his own nose right as a drop of blood hits his top lip. “Aiya!” He lets out a steady stream of curses as he tilts his head back and pinches his nostrils to stem the blood flow.

“You should talk to Simon,” Wash says.

“Why, ‘cus I got a little nosebleed?”

“Well, that. And you’re talking to a dead man.”

Mal lets out a little hum as he slowly releases the hold on his nose, relieved to find that the bleeding has stopped. “Yeah, I don’t think the doc is that kind of doc,” he mutters. “Why are you here?”

But Wash is gone.

xxx 

“You okay, Cap’n? No offense, but you look like niou-se.”

“Thanks, Kaylee,” Mal says as he pours himself a cup of shitty coffee. His hands are trembling. He hopes it isn’t noticeable. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Simon has a small frown on his face. “Because Kaylee is right, you really don’t look well.”

Mal lets out a disbelieving scoff and turns to Zoe for support. She raises her hands and shakes her head.

“Don’t look at me. I agree with them.”

“Well I don’t think you look any worse’n usual, Cap,�� Jayne pipes up, and Mal gestures at him. 

“See?” he says. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.”  It’s Wash who says it, from the corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans casually against the wall. 

“Shut up,” Mal says, low. 

Jayne lets out an indignant noise. “I didn’t say nothin’!” 

The others are looking at him. He can feel their stares, can sense the concern coming off them in waves. He doesn’t like it. He shakes his head, setting his barely-touched coffee on the table. 

“Your sister on the bridge, Doc?”

“Um, yes. She is. Do you want me to--”

“Shut your mouth and leave me alone?” Mal throws him a sarcastic smile. “Yes, I do. That sounds like a mighty fine idea, actually! I’m gonna go check in with River. I suggest you all get back to…whatever it is needs doing.”

He storms out of the room and into the small passageway that leads to the bridge. He’s tempted to just go back to his bunk and lay down. Every part of him hurts. His head is the worst. The ache that he’s been enduring the last few days has progressed and now it feels like someone is trying to break their way out of his brain with an ice pick. But he’s the captain, and he’s got a ship to run. He’s run it in worse shape than this. He hasn’t been shot or stabbed, nothing’s broken, and he’s got both his ears, so he can handle this. 

“You’re shaking, Mal,” Wash points out unhelpfully.

“Yeah, well, you’re dead,” he says under his breath, and immediately feels a sharp pang of guilt, and the ache in his chest that comes whenever he thinks too much about the people he’s lost. 

Wash just laughs, a cold, mirthless sound that makes the hairs on the back of Mal’s neck stand on end. He walks faster, doing his best to ignore the presence of his dead pilot. He’s breathing hard by the time he reaches the bridge, and he stands at the bottom of the stairs for a second to catch his breath before he climbs up. River looks over her shoulder at him.

“Morning, Captain.”

“Hey, she’s in my seat,” Wash says. 

River smiles. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Mal’s heart leaps. He’s about to say You can see him? when River points to a little bobble-head cat settled amongst Wash’s plastic dinosaurs. Mal recognizes it as one that she’d picked up at the last port.

“He was lonely on my shelf, I thought maybe he would like the company…” She frowns, tilting her head to one side. She’s staring at Mal with that look she gets, the one that means she’s pondering something deeply. “You’re sick.”

Mal lets out a frustrated breath. “Not you too,” he says, and the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s hit by a sudden wave of dizziness. He grabs the back of the chair in front of him in a tight grip to keep from falling, closing his eyes and pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. The pain behind his eyes sharpens to a bright crescendo and he can’t stop a cry from escaping him as falls to his knees. 

“Captain?” River’s voice is high and tight with fear. Mal wants to reassure her, but he can barely think through the agony in his head. “Simon!” 

“‘m okay,” he manages to gasp, and then his mouth fills with the taste of blood and his world goes black.

xxx to be continued…

[lilithbasically]

“Neighbors”

Kirishima x Reader

W.C. 2k

*MINORS DNI*

Warnings: graphic fantasies, flirting, light teasing, masturbation (m&f), peeping Tom behavior

The front porch lights are on; you'd have to thank your Aunt Jayne for coming by before you arrived. The house looks the same as it used to, thankfully. Well, for the most part anyway. The unreasonably tall concrete stairs still stand only now with a handrail. 'Fresh paint has really done the porch some good,' you think. Your gaze shifts to the old swing as you heave your suitcase and extra bags up the towering steps. "Holy shit, they actually kept you. How old is this thing now? At least 50 years...Well, let's see if you still swing crooked." Rolling your case to the side, you sit on the cold metal and push off your toes, letting the double seat rock at an awkward cross angle until it starts bumping into its own side. "Yep," you smile, "Just like I hoped."

Deciding to sleep in the master bedroom and getting your bags set up how you like only took a few minutes. You make your way to the bathroom, after making sure the front door is locked, to shower before having a few beers. Just as the last of the suds swirl down the drain, you hear a deep voice call out, "Umm...hello?" Quickly shutting off the water, you whip open the door; naked as the day you were born with only a flimsy towel for cover, and come face to chest with a very large man.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims and takes two steps back. "I'm so sorry, Miss. I...normally wouldn't do this but I really need to know who you are?"

You scoff, "Excuse me? This is my family's house so, I feel like you should tell me who you are, first, then follow it with what you're doing in here."

'He almost seems flustered,' you think. You watch his eyes dart upward from corner to corner looking anywhere but at you; he has small crowfeet at the corner of each eye and a scar going through his right eyebrow. His long red hair is half up in a bun, some shorter pieces falling into his face. One large hand attempts to shield you from his vision while the other moves rapidly, animating his words, "Again, I'm very sorry, Miss. I'm Eijiro but everyone calls me Kiri. I live just across the street and I have a key because your grandparents gave me a copy to watch over everything when no one is here. And the only people I ever see over here are the workers and occasionally Miss Jayne. So, when I saw a different vehicle and the lights on this time of night, I thought it was strange. As the person that takes care of this place in your family's absence, I felt I should come take a look. I am so, so fucking sorry."

Kiri showed his copy of the house key with the tag brandishing your grandmother's handwriting.

"Oh, okay. Well, thank you for holding up to your word, anyway. No worries, Kiri. Nice meeting you, even if I have nothing but a towel on. Speaking of..." you nod your head to the front door.

"Right! I'll uh, see you later on probably. M'sorry it wasn't under more...regular circumstances," Kiri chuckles. "Before I go, I'm going to leave my number on the fridge, just in case. Feel free to call me any time ya need."

_____

The bare cupboards weren't offering any assistance to your rumbling stomach. That seems to be the only downside of coming here is that no one lives here anymore, so, grocery shopping is an unfortunate necessity.

Grabbing two armfuls of bags, you start to climb the annoyingly tall stairs when you catch a flash of red in the corner of your eye.

"Hey, neighbor! Lookin' like you could use some help there," Kiri smiles at you when you turn to look at him. His bright grin takes over all of his features, crinkling the corners of his ruby eyes. He grabs the remaining bags and shuts the door. His biceps strain against his t-shirt with the smallest movement and you have to wonder just how many shirts he's accidentally ripped. Your gaze is drawn to his dark-wash jeans and muscular thighs as he somehow takes the steps two at a time, and falls into stride next to you.

"Thank you, Kiri. You really don't have to but I appreciate the help anyway."

"Of course! A woman as beautiful as you shouldn't have to do things on your own," he flirts, gently bumping his elbow against your shoulder. You look at him next to you and finally acknowledge just how tall the man is. Having to stoop down to not hit his head on the six-plus foot roof, you figure he's easily six foot four, maybe six foot five.

You smile and shake your head, unlock the door, and walk straight to the kitchen to start putting things away. Kiri sets the bags on the table with a small sigh, "Welp, guess I'll be goin. Like I said, call me if you ever need or want something."

"Oh, Kiri, wait. I'm actually about to start dinner if you want to stick around. I don't know if you're a fan of potato soup but that's what's on the menu. I'll also be having a few drinks afterward if you'd like to join me."

"I'd love to but only if you finally tell me your name," he chuckles.

"Oh! Right! I'm Y/N," you offer a smile and turn to start chopping potatoes and carrots. Dinner is ready within the next hour with Kiri's help, even though you thoroughly protested. He just laughed, leaned forward to be almost eye level with you and asked, "Did you already forget what I told you on the porch?"

The flush that crept up your cheeks was obvious and he didn't hesitate to point it out, "Wow and here I thought my hair was the reddest thing in here." You quickly averted your eyes and blamed it on the heat from the stove while Kiri snickered under his breath.

Now you sit next to him on the couch, turned to face him with one leg bent under the other, each of you a drink in your hand. The alcohol helps diminish your nerves at having such a wildly attractive man in such proximity but when you're both sitting so close, staring into each other's eyes, trying to get the other to break, your mind can't help but wander to other ways he could break you.

Finally, he blinks.

"HA! I've never been beaten in a staring match, Kiri. Told you I'd win," you tease.

Your breath catches in your throat when his fingers lightly grip your jaw, tilting your head back toward him. "Is that what we were doing, darlin'? I was just admiring the view."

His thumb softly sweeps across your bottom lip as he leans forward and whispers against your lips, "You don't mind me admiring you, do you, Little One?"

Unable to respond, you shake your head. The heat swirling in his eyes makes your heart pound against your rib cage. Pulling back, his gaze drops to your lips before returning to your own. A gentle sigh leaves him as he allows his hand to fall, "I should be going, Y/N. I have an early morning but I've had more fun tonight than I have in a long time. So, thank you for that. Hopefully, I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure you lock the door behind me, alright? Have a great rest of your night, beautiful."

Kiri gives you a peck on the cheek and forehead before you both stand and walk to the door. "Goodnight, Y/N. Have sweet dreams for me, yeah?" You say your goodnight and lock the door behind him, slumping against the wall.

"What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened? Holy fucking shit." You fan your ablaze face to rid yourself of the pulsating heat that has taken residence across your cheeks. Walking to your bedroom, stripping along the way, you crawl into bed with nothing on, and lay your head down. You lie in bed for the better part of half an hour and decide the increasing heat from your cunt won't allow you to rest until it's handled. Flicking on the bedside lamp, you throw off the covers and grab your vibrator from your suitcase. Usually, you'd use lube but the wetness coating your inner thighs tells you it won't be necessary this time. A subtle buzzing fills the bedroom as you lay back against the headboard and thrust the toy inside your pussy, the top nub sits snug against your clit as you grind and roll your hips in time with the rhythm you set.

_____

Kirishima is all smiles on his walk back home just across the street. Unlocking and opening his door, he walks to his bedroom and strips down to nothing but his underwear before hopping into his own bed, laying down, and closing his eyes. His thoughts filled only of you. What seems to be just a few moments later, a small flicker of light through his eyelids prompts them to open and investigate.

His eyes adjust and when he realizes what he's seeing, his cock immediately hardens in his boxers. 'There's no way she knows,' he thinks. Surely you don't know there's one section of your blinds that are open just enough to see into from the right angle and Kiri's bedroom window, happens to be at that angle. He can see how wet you are from here; watches as it drips down the toy every time you push it inside you. Your brow scrunched, one hand switching between palming your tits and pinching your nipples while the other is diligently at work. Before he realizes what he's doing, Kiri pulls his boxers down just enough for his aching cock to spring free. The tip is flushed and red, already leaking precum. Taking his length in hand, he matches his pace to yours, stroking in time with you.

"Ahh, f-fuck..."

Did...did you just say his name? He could swear he saw your lips mouth his name. Fuck...just that thought alone has him imagining himself filling you instead of that bright pink toy. Knowing even after stretching you out with his thick fingers, he'd have to bully his cock inside you. Your pussy would stretch to accommodate his size and he would revel in it. Take his time so he could feel every throb, every squeeze, every fucking drop of your essence. Thinking of you begging him not to stop fucking you as he pulls out and dips down to lick your cunt and suck on your clit just to make it last a little longer. He opens his eyes just as your mouth drops open, your toes curl, and your thighs shake. Thick, white ropes of cum cover his fist and stomach as you get off at the same time. Kiri watches as your back arches when you remove your toy, get up to put your pajama pants back on, and slip back into bed after turning off the light. Grabbing a tissue to clean himself up, he tucks himself away and picks up his phone to text his best friend about the new girl just across the street.

[arklayraven]

I really got attached to the name Jayne now for my s/i so...lol

We'll be talking like living our lives normally rn...no au stuff.

source to template

Jealous one?

J: Jealousy...It's mutual. lol

R: *already glaring at anyone looking at Jayne too long*

Cheesiest?

J: Am I really that cheesy?

R: Pfff

J: ???

Most petty?

J: ...Mutual we agreed...

R: I'm more petty though if pushed.

Better chef?

J: Apparently I'm the better chef as decided by him.

R: You are.

Better singer?

R: How am I the better singer? Your voice is angelic...

J: I sound like a demon trying to break free from hell.

R: Stop that. You sing just fine...You just...need practice with your range is all.

J: SO YOU AGREE!

R: ...

Scariest when angry?

R: Jayne. All the way. The ones who made this mess to begin with, have little idea how much they are holding back right now with their rage.

J: ... *takes a deep breath in, and slowly out*

R: *holds their hand* That's right...Just do your breathing exercises again like we taught you.

Easiest to scare?

R: Jayne~.

J: Well I like being scared sometimes so sue me.

R: It's cute when you literally jump out of your seat.

J: S-shut up...

R: Make me~.

Best seducer?

R: Jayne, again~.

J: I kept trying to put down him for it but he kept taking the pen away.

R: Because it's true, it's you. Especially when you--

J: MOVING ON.

Funnier?

R: Jayne, when the world isn't trying to literally drag them down into hell again. They always know how to make people laugh or smile.

J: ...

R: It's a compliment, Seraph.

J: OH.

R: 💜

"Social butterfly"?

R: Jayne.

J: HOW??

R: Do you really not see it?

J: ???

R: ...

First to fall asleep?

R: Jayne, only because I stay up to make sure they fall asleep first.

J: ...You really don't have to do that you know?

R: I know, but I still do because I love you.

J: ...

Best at keeping the house clean?

J: Him, for sure. I suck at keeping things in order and clean...

R: Shush...You know there's more to why you can't keep things clean and in order in your life right now...It's alright.

[trainofcommand]

Thank you, @wonkyelk, for the tag :)

How many works do you have on AO3?

289.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

764 464.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now mostly SGA, but other fandoms I've written for in the last year or so include Firefly, SG1, The Old Guard, some tiny/non-existent fandom stuff (Echoes, Who is Erin Carter, etc), some original fiction. Various one-offs (Hot Fuzz, ST:PIC).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Perfect Bride (SGA)

A Uniquely Dangerous Opportunity (SGA/The Old Guard)

Season's Greetings (SGA)

How to Succeed at Corporate Sabotage in Five and a Half Easy Steps (SGA) [note - I love this title so much]

In the Wind (SGA/The Old Guard)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I dooooooo! I love comments, they make me so happy, so I want to make sure the commenter knows that. And sometimes there's a nice chat that happens too, so that's exciting!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

For SGA, it's Failsafe (still one of my favourite things I've ever written). For Firefly, I think it's Assessment, at least, based on the comments I got when I first posted it to...oh gosh, I think it was to a listserv and then the Firefly's Glow old archive. For SG1, it's Grey Skies, Ashen Ground (I also love this fic so much).

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I don't know. I do write a lot of pretty happy endings, and a lot of humour, so it's hard to say.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Generally, no. I do remember getting a bit of snark about a few things I've written over the years, but that was way back pre-LJ.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I dooooooooo. I think I write a fair amount of E-rated stuff (PWPs and otherwise). What kind - I guess mostly m/m. My most common smut-related tags are blow jobs, dubious consent, and getting together. So I guess I write a lot of dubious consent oral sex romance or something :')

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Sometimes! Craziest one is probably Travel Light (SGA/The Littlest Hobo) (we need more dogs in Stargate, okay??) (yes, this is a niche fic with a small audience, but it is deeply hilarious to me). Or maybe Village of the Y-arrrggg (Anna and the Apocalypse/Hot Fuzz). I love both of these fics so much.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I have no idea!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Heck yes, I have! Quite a bit over the years, and more recently a couple with @wonkyelk and four or five with @chaos-monkeyy. It is so fun!!!!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I tend to prefer characters over ships (I will ship that favourite character will alllllllll kinds of people), but probably if I had to pick, I'd say Jayne/Simon (Firefly), just because I think they're the most frequent ship I've written.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I don't know, really. I tend to forget about my WIPs and then find them again later and remember.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I write humour pretty well! And I think I'm pretty good at writing porn. Maybe. I don't know. I can and will make train puns (shock, gasp, surprise).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I can't sustain long stories. Most of my stuff falls in the 2000-5000 range, and the longest thing I ever wrote was just shy of 10 000 words. I just don't have the capacity to write long stuff. Also, if I don't get most of a fic down in a sitting or two, I'm unlikely to ever finish it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm pretty sure I've never done this. Can't say I have any profound thoughts on it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

OZ.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

This one is too hard. And whoops, it turns out I've already mentioned a bunch of stuff I like. I guess I also really like the way Pieces Tossed Aside (Firefly) worked out (I had to think about a few different things for that one), and also, Of winsome mood and disposition (SGA) (it made me laugh so much to write this).

no pressure tagging, if you're into it: @chaniis-atlantis, @cuillere, @cordeliaperry, @chaos-monkeyy, @colonelshepparrrrd, @dedkake, @sparrowsarus

[alix-in-july]

I'm not all that convinced that Jayne "tell us where the stuff's at so I can shoot ya" Cobb is a Snake secondary. He only really lies in two situations: when he's playing a prank on Simon (which Mal, a Lion secondary, did in the pilot, so I'm not sure that counts) and when he was trying to turn in Simon and River for the money. And even then, he keeps it very basic. Time to go. The plan's changed. Any other time he tries to put on an act, he's comically bad at it. Compare that to Inara, who doesn't miss a beat when Saffron tries to seduce her.

I also think his motivations would have been delved into a lot more if the series had continued. We know he spends a lot of time caring for his guns and he visits prostitutes, which seems like possible Snake hedonism. He sends money to his mom and loves the silly hat she sent him. I think there's a possibility he's a Snake whose people are mostly offscreen.

[dhampiravidi]

ancient greek/trojan war reincarnation au

After he'd torn his hair, beat his breast, and screamed his voice hoarse, Akhilleus was done living. He was alive, yes, and he would be until someone killed him, but he was done living. Patroklos, his lifelong love and friend, was dead, taken away from him forever. And it was all his fault. So once he could find the strength to stand, he put on the armor his mother commissioned for him and clawed his way through Hektor's people until the prince, Patroklos's killer, showed himself. He avenged his love. Then he took his anger out on those marked as the enemy until Apollo's poisoned arrow granted him the death he so desperately craved.

Once he reached Elysium, he searched for Patroklos, who embraced him. The man was sad to know that Akhilleus had suffered, but happy to see him again. The two were glad to be together. But Akhilleus missed the land of the living. He told Odysseus as much when the man visited the Underworld for answers on his way home to Ithaca. There was no lyre to play, no sunlight to enjoy, and really nothing to look forward to. But there was the River Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness that could wipe a spirit's memories in preparation for their reincarnation. Patroklos proposed that he and Akhilleus be reborn, for another chance at life. Akhilleus agreed to the plan, but he needed to make sure that he'd see his love again--all of them.

---

September 9th, 2006

"My thanks, Lord Aidoneus. You are most generous," Pogue whispered in Ancient Greek, eyes closed as his body repaired itself and his mind wandered to days past.

"Huh?" Reid and Ty had just come back from the vending machine. With one of their friends off on a suicide mission and the other in a coma, it was hard to simply sit quietly. But what else was there to do, other than take a few minutes to collect their thoughts?

---

Two Years Later

It was a shy kiss, one much softer than the first he'd shared with Jayn months before and the (technically not-first) one he'd gladly accepted from Caleb. But the moment his lips connected with Cassia's, long-forgotten magic sparked in the minds of the four young lovers. Jayn and Caleb regarded each other, first with curiosity, then with surprise, fondness, and a firm hug.

"Patroklos," Deidamia-Jayn murmured, "It's so good to see you again." She pulled back, and Patroklos-Caleb rested his forehead on hers as he smiled.

"What became of your son?" he asked her, and she frowned.

"Little shit gave me to his slave, Helenus. Not that the man wasn't handsome or kind, but--seriously?" She huffed, then looked over at the man who had fathered her child and joined her spirit with his.

Akhilleus-Pogue held Briseis-Cassia close. She was shaking, crying quietly. "You...y-you died, you both did...left me with them," she sobbed, and he didn't know what to say. He'd never been the best at consoling people. And she was right: he and Patroklos were her lovers, not to mention the only men who cared about her in the Achaean army. Once they died, she had nothing, and could do nothing but leave Troy for an unfamiliar man and his unfamiliar home.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing another kiss to her trembling lips. She looked up at him, holding his face in her hands. Somehow, she managed to smile.

"You raided my city and treated me like your queen in Troy. And then you made sure I'd never be alone again. At least you did that much," Briseis-Cassia said, trying to hide her pain and shock. She glanced over at Patroklos-Caleb right when Akhilleus-Pogue did. With a small gesture, she told Akhilleus-Pogue to go on ahead. He let her go and took in the sight of a living, unharmed Patroklos-Caleb, his Patroklos.

"You're an idiot," Akhilleus-Pogue muttered before he yanked his childhood friend into a passionate kiss. It was so strong, Patroklos-Caleb groaned into it, slipping his hand into the shorter boy's hair to keep him close. They snapped and shifted, movements and sounds becoming more erotic and sensual than angry and mournful by the second. Even when they were both hard, they refused to part, so they didn't notice the girls in their own lust until they had all found release.

"What did you do?" Deidamia-Jayn asked Akhilleus-Pogue, once the four of them had all caught their breath, "They told me to go to the Lethe before I could be judged. I thought I fucked up so badly that I had to start all over." They laughed.

"It was Caleb's idea--"

"You said you didn't like being dead."

"I didn't! But I didn't want to live without you, either," Akhilleus-Pogue pleaded, "Any of you." Deidamia-Jayn squeezed his hand and leaned into him, the way she usually did when either he or she got upset. He kissed the top of her head. "I saw Hermes going by, so I asked him to ask Hades for an audience. I dunno if Hades would've agreed if Persephone wasn't there...He said we'd have to wait, but he'd let us live again, just once. But we wouldn't remember each other until we kissed."

"Good thing Cass wore her sexy lip gloss for you." The four laughed.

@in--somnium

[duckingwriting]

Find the word Tag

I was tagged by @tales-from-nocturnaliss and you can see her post here.

No pressure tagging: @tephis, @rachaellawrites, @mthollowell-writes, @author-a-holmes, @winterandwords and the leaving an open tag -

your words are - Warrior, Skills, Teach, Mind

My words are - Ominous, Sun, Livid, Tentacle

Snips bellow the cut

Ominous - From You Spino Me Right 'Round

"I'll probably get myself killed either way." Anthony looked around the forest outside of the cave entrance feeling doubt try to claw at his throat, reminding him that he was no one's first pick for athletics. "But at least I'll have tried." Anthony bolted to the nearest tree, pressing himself tightly to the rough bark and starting to slowly push himself around it. His eyes rolled around as he tried to keep his breathing level as he made his way around the tree, swallowing the panic down as he made his way to the next tree. He had to dart his eyes down to his feet frequently to be sure he would not trip over himself and risk alerting anything of his location. But he couldn't help but feel that someone was watching him too. He hoped it was paranoia. He had looked up only long enough be sure he was heading the right way when he stepped on a stick. He flinched as the snapping sound echoed around him. He cracked an eye open and looked around. It appeared but he didn't see anyone rushing through the trees towards him. Anthony sighed with relief. Then a deep angry roar ripped through the forest and the relief melted back to fear. Anthony bolted away from the sound of the roar. He tripped and stumbled and could hear the ominous sound of large clawed feet crashing through the forest. Getting closer. 

Sun - From the unnamed Underworld Soulmate AU with OCs

Lucian felt his heart hammering in his chest as he stared at his lelki tars.  for the second time in his life Lucian watched his soulmate struggling  against binds holding her to a pole. And he  could only struggle against the hands holding him down. He heard his best friend snarling nearby, Raze struggling not because he cared about the vampire set to face the sun, but because his own mate was going nearly feral seeing her sister murdered in front of her. Lucian wanted to feel bad for his packmate, but all he could feel was the pain that his mate was being murdered by the same man who had murdered his first mate. The same way. The only difference to Lucian's mind, is he had claimed Sonja. He had been so busy fighting Riley that he had barely even acknowledged they were mates. Unlike Sonja though, Riley was not begging Victor for her life. She was not crying, she did not even smell of fear. She was angry.

Livid - Unnamed Jayne/Simon Firefly A/B/O AU

"Instincts, right?" Jayne asked. He knew the little omega would need any excuse he could take to let Jayne do what he was not convinced was only instinct. The had always had a pretty mouth after all. "Yeah. Instincts." Simon swallowed and looked back down at his hands, tightening his wrapping of the gauze. Reminding himself not to be hurt by it. It was just his own response. "We should probably ignore it..." "What cha think 'ill happen if we don't?" Jayne asked taking a step forward despite himself. Despite knowing exactly how livid Mal would be if he though Jayne took advantage of their good doctor. "Depends on how far we let them go." Simon could feel his heart beat picking up pace. He rolled his shoulders and turned his back to the alpha, putting the gauze away. "Probably let us return to some kind of normal faster. Except whatever we allow them to do." "So if I take you to my bunk," Jayne's mouth was against the back of Simon's neck, his hands dwarfing Simon's own hands as he caged Simon in against the counter. "What would happen?" "Jayne." Simon gasped lightly  his body responding to the presence of an alpha so willing and so close. He shivered and resisted the urge to press back into the alpha who's scent had surrounded him for his heat. "What would happen?"

Tentacle - From a fantasy found family WIP with no title and is on the back burner(it's document title is a reminder that it was supposed to only be one scene...and then it spiraled out of control).

Nazaire wrapped his arms around Maude tightly, she gasped against his mouth. His arms were too tight, but complaining was the furthest thing from her mind with the water lapping around them. Her legs wrapped around his hips to hold herself close as they floated in the waves. “Don’t let go.” She whispered as his mouth moved down to her neck with his teeth scraping against her neck. “Promise.” He growled as his tentacles began moving around her body. They slid around her legs, pushing her skirt up further until it was bunched above her hips.

[understandingbimbos]

Transformation.

Like most of this blog, this is an opinion piece.

I hate the association of bimbofication with MC. I hate that bimbofication is considered a subsection of MC.

And that's not to say I hate MC. There's art and erotica I like I'm pretty sure falls under the umbrella of MC. But with bimbofication, its all about the transformation. Yes, there's a transformation of the mind, and I suppose that could be considered mind control -- but there needs to be a physical transformation. I have no interest in bimbo-fication without physical transformation.

There's nothing wrong with bimbos on their own, divorced from transformation. I love the exaggerated plastic surgery look. I love female characters who are dumb, lascivious (this is a really specific word to use over "horny" or "slutty" but I need to be specific about what I mean), or attention seeking (or dumb, lascivious, and attention seeking). But what I don't like is reading a story where some mind controlling reality-rewriting psychopath asshole walks in and is like "Hey, you're dumb now! And you have huge tits." I don't enjoy that. I don't like when some loser ass motherfucker hits the bagel button on the bimbo toaster and a fully formed hot dumb slut obsessed with sucking his dick pops out seconds later, followed by descriptions of sucking dick. I could just watch porn for that.

I want to see a transformation. You know, the real bimbofication is the bimbos we made along the way. The end result is fine, if the end result is written well (it never is), but I'm here to see the process.

And on the slightest related note, maybe this is why I have a such hard time with IRL bimbos. I love the fakeness. I love the vulgarity of a woman having an obviously fake ass, and fake lips, and fake tits... but its genuinely ruined for me if I can't think of the woman as dumb. The sexiness and allure evaporates. What are bimbo tits without the bimbo brain? Without the bimbo behavior? A waste of bimbo parts, in my honest opinion. At the very least, it helps to have a character to reference. Pamela Anderson is hot, but I started watching Baywatch and in the first few episodes CJ's not acting bimbish at all. Then I watched Barb Wire, and she's fucking Humphrey Bogart. So now I'm watching Stripperella... and Erotica has her moments, but even she's not really a bimbo. What gives, Pam?

It's a damn shame. Even including pornstars the only people I can really project that bimbo persona on is

1. Jayne Mansfield, because she played it so well -- on more than one occasion, and incorporated it into her public image.

And

2. Barbara Eden, because she played a silly horny genie in a skimpy outfit on TV for 5-7 years.

One of those women has been dead for 56 years, and the other is 91. It's honestly not looking so good.

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Devour me and my soul if you’re hungry

Author: @bibiche007

Rating/Warning: Explicit

Chapter Count: 5/5

Description:

At the end of the day, Chrissy headed to "her office," rereading the note in her hands.

"Can I see you? 5:30 in the woods? E.M."

And of course she hoped it was the basketball-playing E.M., the one who had occupied all her mind today, and not Elvis Mackensy, a prepubescent junior full of acne pimples. Well, she could hope, but even if it was him, he wouldn't want anything more than a joint to relax, for the after-game party. Worse, maybe it was even his cheerleader girlfriend, Jayne Carver, who was sending him on her errand (Chrissy's sure she'd rather die than talk to the freak queen).

She can't stop her smile when she sees him sitting on the bench with a sense of excitement.

- You know I don't sell steroids, right?" she said wryly.

He flashed her a smile showing his teeth, and it's fucking sexy.

- I have no doubt about my performance, Cunningham. He replied with a playful look in his eyes.

Damn, this boy is going to be the death of her. She already feels like she's having a heart attack. Or an aneurysm.

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, role reversal au, Jock!Eddie, Rocker!Chrissy, soft boy Eddie, Eddie needs a hug, Chrissy is a sweetie, smut, fluff, it's so SPICY, alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: completed