#He ate through a whole bag of apples

[frostbite-yinny]

Well im in Kanto now and there is a VERY old ninetales that has been abandoned in the daycare here. And im alone with him, we'll be traveling together and it's so weird because this old man is WAY OLDER THAN ME.

I can look at this 847 year old man and go 'Does the man want his appy slices?' and he carefully gets down from the hotel bed because it's so so high for this old old man and hustles over because the man do want his appy slices <3

[tunatoge]

little lunch mishap - s. gojo x reader

contents: fem!reader (called mom/momma), mentions of eating, gojo sucks at packing lunches for his kids, written a little after gojo finds megumi and tsumiki

when gojo first met megumi, he’d made sure his infinity was on; he had you and shoko throw random things at him from across the field with and without cursed energy to make sure it worked properly. now, two years later, he doesn’t even realize that it’s off around the seven-year-old kid—not until megumi nails him in the face with an unripe clementine.

“ow!” gojo exclaims, bringing his hand up to his cheek as he lets his sunglasses clatter to the floor. “what was that for, megs?”

megumi glares at gojo, holding a softer and riper clementine in his grasp. you glance over at them from the kitchen as they stare each other down.

“that was the fruit you put in my lunch,” megumi grumbles as he sinks his little fingers into his ripe clementine. “i know you packed it ‘cause mom normally peels them for me.”

“okay,” gojo starts as he leans over and picks up the clementine megumi threw at him, the skin split and the sticky juice dripping all over the tiled floor and his hands. he places the ruined fruit on the counter, bending over again and picking up his sunglasses. “momma had a mission this morning, so me—your amazing and awesome dad—packed your lunch and tsumiki’s,” gojo says with gritted teeth, putting unnecessary stress on the word ‘dad’. “and by the way,” he adds as an afterthought, “tsumiki ate all of her’s.” gojo puffs his chest triumphantly, settling his glasses back onto his face.

you glance at tsumiki as she does her homework, stifling your laughter when a small grimace washes over her features.

“was it that bad?” you ask her in a quiet whisper, making sure gojo and megumi don’t hear you.

tsumiki looks up at you and nods, “satoru made us sandwiches but i think he used the bread that you told him to throw out; it was kind of moldy.” she takes in your wide eyes and adds: “i didn’t eat it, i threw it away.”

you let out a relieved sigh, turning back around to pick up a plate of sliced apples and a cup of peanut butter. you place it down on the kitchen island next to tsumiki as she thanks you. megumi finishes shoving his peeled clementine in his mouth, passing the peel off to gojo as he takes a seat next to his sister.

“are you making lunch tomorrow for school?” he asks you, picking up an apple slice and taking a bite out of it.

you hum in response, scooping out some marshmallow fluff fruit dip you’d made a few days ago. you set it in front of gojo who begrudgingly reaches over and takes an apple slice. you stop megumi from slapping the fruit out of gojo’s hand.

“hey! it wasn’t that bad,” gojo insists through a mouthful of apple. megumi looks at him in disgust. “you had veggies, fruits, and a main meal! i even packed a snack in there!”

you sigh, “‘gumi, what did satoru pack you?”

megumi wipes his hands on a napkin as he looks at you. he makes a point to swallow before speaking. “an unripe clementine, a whole unpeeled carrot from the garden with its top still on, a moldy sandwich, and a family sized bag of skittles.” he swings his feet back and forth under the kitchen island, “i ate the carrot.”

you glance at satoru who reddens at megumi’s words, “okay… tsumiki, what was in yours?” you turn your attention to the little girl who sits next to megumi.

tsumiki glances at gojo in sympathy, “a moldy sandwich, a whole avocado, a green tomato that he picked from the garden even though megumi said it was unready, and a chocolate bar.” she looks at you with a smile, “i ate the avocado. i also had a square from the chocolate bar.”

you frown as you turn back around and pull out a bag of bread and an open bag of chips. gojo watches as you easily slather two slices of bread in peanut butter and strawberry jam, slicing it diagonally and placing the pieces on two different plates. you dump a generous amount of chips on each plate before placing them in front of megumi and tsumiki. you turn around and pick up the marshmallow fluff dip, sliding it into the fridge and shutting the door with your hip. gojo unabashedly stares at your ass when you bend over.

“okay, satoru,” you sigh as you turn towards him. he looks up at you with bright eyes, smiling into his palm. his glasses are on the counter. “from now on, you’ll take my morning missions and i’ll make their lunches.” you watch from the corner of your eye as megumi eagerly eats his chips and sandwich. “and you’ll throw out the bread when i tell you it’s gone bad.”

gojo drops his head on the counter. “you know, you’re so pretty, baby.” he looks up at you through his lashes, batting them intensely. “i’m truthfully so lucky to have you in my life.”

you look at him blankly. “and you’ll be doing the dishes for the next two weeks.”

“WHAT?”

[roaron]

husband toji hcs

-> (SFW ver.) ->( NSFW ver. coming soon ?)

Genre -> (Fluff + Slight angsty themes)

———————————————————————————

-> Toji as we all know, is an assassin, so when he tells you he’ll pick you up from work with your shared car (he stole it) and coincidentally has a job to kill someone at the same time. He rushes to go and pick you up, then drives to his victims house. You just sit there knowingly with an innocent smile on your face as a passenger princess, watching your husband repeatedly stab someone through a window in their house. When he comes back to the car, he’s covered in blood and apologises to you for taking so long. You shrug it off and you both drive away.

-> Toji is the furthest from a picky eater, whatever you cook him, he’ll eat it. You gave him a whole onion as a prank one time and he just bit into it and ate it like an apple. He uses the same excuse that food is food. Also, at home if he sees a discarded sweet or chip or anything on the floor, he’ll eat it. When you call him disgusting he just shrugs and says it’s his house so he doesn’t give a shit.

-> He wears your gowns. Because he’s so big it does in fact tear but he wears it nonetheless. He likes how fluffy it is. When you offered to buy him one he said no because it’s too girly. As he wraps your hot pink gown around himself and walks away to go and do whatever it is Toji does.

-> When it comes to kissing, he prefers to kiss your forehead and knuckles. He does anything you ask him to as well. Calling you his princess and saying that he’s at your service. He ties your shoes for you, holds all the bags, tucks you into bed, washes your hair, he does it all. Can’t can’t cook tho. So he orders take out and says he made it. When you finally decide to thank him for everything with a kiss on the cheek he just widens his eyes and gives you the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. His cheeks dusted pink and his dimples on show.

-> You draw on Tojis arms a lot, and it looks surprisingly good. So one day Toji comes back home from outside and you see that one of your previous drawings are on his arms. When you ask him why it hasn’t come off yet he tells you to look closer and you see he’s gotten it tattooed. You’d never felt so hopelessly in love in your life. From that day forward, whatever you’d draw on his arms, he’d get it tattooed. Unless it’s a dick or some shit, then he’ll just draw one on your face while you’re sleeping.

-> Toji is very attractive, everyone knows it. So when you see him getting flirted with on the street, it doesn’t surprise you. You just quickly turn your back and walk away, knowing that he’d probably flirt back with the girls that fawn over him. You end up running home and having a bit of a cry over the thought that Toji could be entertaining those other women. Not a minute passes before you hear the front door swing open and your husbands voice echo throughout the house. He instinctively goes to the closet in your shared room and sees you sitting in there curled up. The sight makes him feel like shit. He just picks you up and tucks you into bed. He then leaves the room and goes to sleep on the couch. This happens a lot.

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[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Coming Home to You

Pairings: Husband!Dad!Travis Kelce x Wife!Mom!Reader

Words: 926

Warnings: None, just cute family dynamics

“Mama?” Bubba looked up at you with sleepy eyes, still waking up as he ate his breakfast at the kitchen island. Savannah was in her highchair, apple sauce over her face and in her hair. “Yes, Bubs?” You walked over to Bubba, placing a kiss on his messy curls. “Where’s Daddy? I wanna watch Paw Patrol with him?”

Over the last couple of months, shortly after Bubba turned four, he started to notice that Travis wasn’t around a lot during the season, but still didn’t grasp why. He didn’t understand why Daddy didn’t come home after every game. “He’s on a trip, but he’s coming home tomorrow. When you wake up, he’ll be here.” Bubba immediately started to tear up, his lip pushed out in a pout. “Come here baby,” you helped him out of his chair, your pregnant belly making it difficult to hold your first baby like you wanted to. You grabbed Savannah from her highchair and led Bubba to the living room.

You placed Sav in her play pen, settling on the couch with Bubba. “I’ll watch Paw Patrol with you, we can spend the whole day together.” You wiped the tears from Alex’s face, his little sniffles and stuffy nose breaking your heart. You snuggled up under a blanket together, and when you were sure Bubba’s attention was on the TV, you pulled out your phone to text Travis:

Y/N: Hey baby, you busy?

Travis: No, we’re just resting in the hotel

Y/N: Everything ok? Nervous for tonight?

Travis: Yes, going against the Patriots sucks

Y/N: You got this babe

Travis: Thanks baby. Miss you so much

Y/N: Bub is missing you so bad today, he’s been crying all morning

Travis: Poor little man, he’s having a hard time every away game

Y/N: Do me a favor, FT me in a couple min, he’d love to see you

Travis: Alright, will do baby

Y/N: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow 😘😘

About five minutes later your phone rang, Travis’ number popping up. “Look Bubba, its daddy!” Bubba’s face lit up, grabbing the phone from you.

“Hi Daddy!” Alex was greeting Travis before his face was even on the screen. “Hey Bubs, what are you doing?” Alex adjusted so he was sitting on his bottom on the couch. “Watching Paw Patrol with mama.” Travis chuckled, “Is Rebble in this episode?” “His name is Rubble, Daddy. You’re silly!” “You’re right baby. Daddy got his name wrong.” “Are you coming home soon?” You sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to end well. “Not today, baby, Daddy is playing football tonight, but I’ll be home tomorrow.” “Can we watch you play?”

“We can watch on the TV tonight”, you fixed his shirt that had gotten twisted while he was playing. “We can get pizza!” Bubba got excited at the thought of pizza. “I need you to cheer me on so that I can win tonight, Alex” “I will, Daddy, I love you.” You could hear Travis’ smile through the phone, “I love you too Bud.” Alex hands the phone back to you, running to his room in a much better mood. “Thanks baby, love you.” “My other child giving you trouble?” You rubbed your belly, laughing to yourself. “Actually no, unless you count the gas.” “I do, let me know if I need to give her a talkin’ to. I gotta go, see you tomorrow.”

The night went pretty smoothly, Alex cheering for Travis, until he fell asleep on the couch during the 2nd quarter. A four-year-old just can’t hang. The next morning, you woke up to the sound of the garage opening. You waddled downstairs to greet Travis, meeting him at the garage door. “What are you doing up?” Travis dropped his bags on the ground by the door. You glanced at the clock on the wall; it was only 5:30AM. “I can’t sleep, this baby is using my bladder as a punching bag.” Travis pulled you in for a kiss, his hands finding your belly. “Come on, we probably have 30 minutes before the kids wake up.” You pulled Travis with you up to the bedroom, Travis throwing his body on the bed with a groan. You escaped to the bathroom, joining Travis in the bed when you were done. You sat back on your haunches, leaning on the propped-up pillows. “Give me the rundown, any injuries?” “Not this time, my shoulder is still bothering me though. C’mere.” Travis pulled you into his side, his arm around your back, careful of your belly. You pulled him in for a kiss, his return half-hearted because he was exhausted. “Baby, you don’t know how much I want to, but I am so tired right now.” You ran your hand over Travis’ hair, mentally making a note to schedule a haircut for him. You patted his chest as he closed his eyes. You had about five minutes together in peace and quiet before you heard the door creak open, Bubba’s tiny head poking through.

“Daddy!” Alex jumps on the bed, landing on Travis’ chest, Travis letting out a grunt. Alex wrapped his arms around Travis, his little arms barely making it around his broad chest. “You must have been cheering really good, because we won.” “I was, mama had to tell me to quiet down.” Travis laughed, rubbing Alex’s back. Travis was drifting off to sleep, unable to keep his eyes open. “Come on Alex, let’s get breakfast and let Daddy sleep.” You and Alex woke up Savannah and went downstairs, Travis sleeping for the next four hours.

[n-s4kayaky]

Satisfying journey Pt.2

Part 1

(Notes: Hi! I'm new to writing stories on this app. While I am familiar with writing the occasional one-shot or comic strip, it's been a while. I'm writing this story for my own enjoyment and excitement. I just wanted to let you know that if there are any grammatical errors, I apologize. I'm also more than happy to hear your suggestions and feedback. For now, this is all I can share. I hope you enjoy this story)

Pairing: Buggy The Clown x F!Reader

Summary: You woke up in a dirty and damp cell after your encounter with the pirate Buggy The Clown, you didn't remember much, your whole body hurt, especially your face. You spent several hours there until you heard someone entering the cell, it was our favorite captain. He asked you several questions and, well, you didn't know if things had gone well or badly at that moment.

Warnings: Depictions of Violence and Torture, small mentions of blood, mentions of hanging, Buggy being a complete jerk and a perv, sexual tension and teasing, romance, humiliation.

Your eyes opened hazily as you looked around with your vision half-clouded. The first thing you noticed was the strong smell of humidity in the air. The room was mostly dark, illuminated only by a weak ray of sunlight coming through a small, round window. Your whole body hurt, especially your face, specifically your cheek and nose. You felt something dripping from your nose and brought your hand up to it, only to see that you were handcuffed to a chain that was attached to the bars of a cage. You took the substance that was dripping from your nose, realizing it was blood. That damn clown, his punch was so strong that it made you faint and bleed from your nose. You lightly touched it, feeling relieved that your septum wasn't broken. Once you inspected your body for any kind of injury or bruise, which fortunately you didn't have, you looked around.

You were in a kind of cell, which looked more like a lion's cage, some hay was scattered on the floor, which had tangled in your hair. You saw on the other side of the bars a pile of expanded bags and several old fabrics that looked like old ship sails, from among the sacks of unknown content you saw how several rats scurried and hid, well, you knew you wouldn't be alone in that cell, hopefully they would become your friends. You groaned, rubbing your cheek still feeling a trace of heat due to the slap Buggy gave you. Who did that guy think he was? Enslaving a poor village for his own pleasure and to receive forced applause and laughter, it made your heart shrink. And it wasn't just that he enslaved a village, but he also imprisoned you, why?! You were just looking for a new place to start a new life; but you didn't want your new life to rot in the cell of a sadistic pirate clown's ship. Although, for some reason, you couldn't stop thinking about him, his face passed fleetingly through your head, if it was true that he had attractive features; but what were you doing thinking so much about him? He had put you in a cage! Although you didn't deny that you had always had certain questionable tastes... Before ending up here, in your other village you collected "Wanted" posters and hung them on the walls of your room, it couldn't be denied that some of those pirates were attractive, especially that man you liked so much... What was his name? That swordsman... Mia.. Mih... Mihawk! Yes, that was it! You remember that every time there was a new poster you took it and kept it.

You woke up from your dream when your stomach growled, grumbling for some food. You were so hungry, the last thing you ate was a half-rotten apple. In addition to hunger, you were thirsty, your throat was dry, and no matter how much saliva you accumulated and swallowed, it didn't quench your thirst. As if someone was listening to your thoughts and especially the growling of your stomach, the door opened, letting out a loud creak. A man came out of the door, dressed in a striking way like the rest of the crew. Half of his face was covered by his hair, and the other half of his hair was shaved and had lines of different colors. A large scarf covered part of his mouth, and in his hands, he carried a tray with a glass of what looked like milk and a piece of bread. Your stomach couldn't help but growl at the sight, as little as it was at that moment, it was enough for you, you were too hungry. That man looked at you and approached the cell at a tortuously slow pace. Once in front of the cell, he crouched down and opened a small compartment where he was able to pass the tray with the glass and bread. "The Captain will come to see you in a few minutes," he said in a cold tone as he closed the small hatch through which he had given you the tray. Before you could ask him anything, that man had left through the door, giving a loud bang that made the cage vibrate under your feet.

You sighed and looked at the tray with the glass of milk and the piece of bread. Your stomach growled again and with trembling hands you took the bread. It was hard, too hard. You knew that if you put it in your mouth as it was, your teeth would break before you could take a bite. You made a face and took the glass of milk. It wasn't very big, but it wasn't very small either. You quickly remembered the knife you had in your back pocket, you stood up and searched for the small knife with hope, but it vanished when you didn't feel the knife where it should be. Those damn pirates, they must have taken it. With the little strength you had left, you took the hard bread, breaking it and making thousands of crumbs fall to the dirty floor of the cage. You took your glass of milk and took a small sip, as you thought it was plain milk, without a hint of sugar or honey to sweeten it. You took your broken bread and dipped it in the milk, making it softer. After several seconds under the milk, you took the piece and brought it to your mouth, letting out a sound of delight as you started to eat the bread soaked in milk. It seemed like the best culinary dish a chef could have prepared for you. Little by little, you finished the bread along with the milk, putting your fingers in your mouth and sucking them to take the last drops of milk that dripped from them.

Did you see how the rats from before came out of their hiding places among the sacks, timidly approaching the cage when they smelled the breadcrumbs that had been scattered, they seemed fearful, wanting to approach but backing away when they saw you. You let out a slight laugh and took a breadcrumb, carefully approaching one of the rats, it smelled the breadcrumb and with its little paws took it, bringing it to its mouth and quickly returning to the pile of bags. The other rats also approached, surrounding you, a little panicked you began to give breadcrumbs to the rats and they would run away to eat them in hiding.

Suddenly the door opened with a bang, causing the few rats that were left with you to run away in terror. You looked at the door and saw that it wasn't Buggy. He wasn't wearing his orange captain's hat, and instead had a white bandana with red stripes on his head, revealing his blue hair. He also wasn't wearing his big orange coat, which exposed a red and white striped sleeveless shirt with several belts. His biceps were clearly visible and muscular, indicating that he worked out. Your eyes carefully scanned his muscular arms, but you quickly looked away, embarrassed that you were ogling your captor. Buggy easily noticed your actions and a playful laugh escaped his red-painted lips. 'Enjoying the view, darling? I can't blame you,' he said in a playful tone as he approached you, standing in front of your cage.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and you let out a small groan. 'There's nothing to enjoy,' you spat defensively while glaring at the pirate. 'Darling, don't lie to me. I know I'm someone worth admiring,' he said. 'Whatever you say... What the hell do you want from me?' you muttered irritably as you saw that the man had easily read you. Buggy laughed again as he crouched down enough to be at the same height as you. 'I feed you and I don't decide to kill you, and this is how you thank me?' he said, feigning a tone of sadness as his blue orbs rested on your face. You rolled your eyes at his response. 'You've locked me up and chained me up like a damn animal,' you said furiously as you faced the clown. Buggy laughed amusedly as his eyes lingered on your face, staying for a few long seconds on your nose. He brought his hand to his mouth, taking off with his teeth the dirty white glove he had on his hands and slowly took it off, revealing his bare hand. His nails were trimmed and painted the same color as his blue hair. Without a doubt, this man cared about his perfect appearance.

You watched in amazement as he removed his glove, and then you saw him lick his thumb, moistening it with saliva. Your cheeks turned a shade redder. What was that clown planning? His bare hand approached your face, easily passing between the metal bars. Instinctively, you moved back, afraid that he would slap you again for your response. But moving away didn't help you much, as he separated his hand from his arm with those strange powers that you still didn't understand. His flying hand approached your face, and you closed your eyes, expecting the blow. But it never came. You only felt the strangely delicate touch of his saliva-moistened finger passing under your nostrils. When he removed his hand from you, you opened your eyes, bewildered, watching as he put his hand back on his body, took it out from between the bars, and looked at his thumb for a few seconds. It was stained with some dried blood that had previously dripped from your nose from the blow he had given you the day before. After observing his finger, dyed red with your blood, for several seconds, he brought it to his mouth while his eyes were fixed on you. He watched you closely, seeing your reaction as he playfully licked your blood from his finger. You remained perplexed from your position, watching his actions while your face heated up again. What the hell was he playing at? He took his finger out of his mouth with a wet "POP" and put his glove back on his hand while his eyes remained fixed on you. "Delicious," he said cheerfully.

"Good dear, I must say that you are there for two simple reasons. The first is that you caught my attention, and believe me, that's something difficult to do with me," he said as he slightly stood up from his position and began to walk around the cage while his eyes never left you. "The second..." He faced you again and suddenly a hand flew towards you, grabbing your neck firmly and forcing you to stick to the bars of the cage. "I don't know if you remember, but you ruined my show... And those who do that don't end up well, let's say... Very well," he said as his fingers pressed harder on the sides of your neck, blocking your blood pressure. "You didn't follow MY rules, you didn't applaud when I told you to, and to top it off..." His palm pressed against your trachea, making it harder for you to breathe. "You spat on me, me, the great Buggy The Clown! You humiliated me in front of MY spectators!" He said furiously as he watched with some amusement as you tried to catch your breath. "And believe me, I'm not going to forgive you just like that, simply because of your pretty face, doll," he said as he slightly loosened his grip on your neck, letting you take a breath of air before tightening it again. "Besides, as I mentioned before, you should have thanked me. I could have easily killed you and your pretty body would be at the bottom of the ocean being wasted by some hungry sharks..." A sadistic smile decorated his face as he watched your face slowly turn purple. "I think you should thank me NOW..."

You watched him as you tried to catch your breath, feeling your eyes tear up and a slight thread of saliva fall from your mouth, you opened it and whispered as loudly as you could in those moments, "T-thank you..." Buggy's smile widened as he watched your futile attempts to pronounce a word, he tightened his fingers while pressing your body even harder against the cold glass bars. "What did you say, doll? I don't think I heard you well." "T-th...Thank you!" You released with your last breath, feeling your vision blur and how you would faint again. Buggy's hand abruptly separated from your throat, allowing you to breathe again, quickly taking a deep breath, coughing in the process as you looked at the clown with teary eyes. The hand that was on your throat a few seconds ago moved towards your head, starting to caress it with some affection as he watched you from the other side of the bars with a satisfied smile. "That's how I like it... I know you can be a good girl, you just need a little push." He winked at you as he moved his hand away from you, sticking it back to his body

You gasped, still a little dizzy from the lack of air and the dizziness in your body as you watched Buggy look at you with amusement. 'Well, since you thanked me and showed me that you can be a good girl, I'm going to give you another chance, okay?' he said, watching your face and occasionally lowering his eyes to your body, causing shivers to run through it. 'I have something planned just for you, my dear. Let's put you and that spoiled mouth of yours to good use,' he said, stopping his eyes on your lips for a few seconds, then looking away and getting up, wiping the accumulated dirt off his pants. 'I'll come back for you tomorrow and show you your new function here. Don't try anything stupid or you'll regret it,' he said in a chilling tone as he began to walk towards the door, opened it, and before leaving, gave you one last look. 'Don't ruin your position as a good girl... unless you want to be punished,' he chuckled and winked at you, then left through the door, slamming it shut and leaving you once again in the darkness and dampness of your cage.

You sighed as you brought your chained hands to your neck, slowly caressing it and stopping at the spot where Buggy had pressed his fingers. You looked at the door one last time, letting out a small curse. You curled up into a ball and closed your eyes, going to sleep and waiting to see what would happen to you tomorrow.

[captainjamster]

hi i have a request Price gives stress relief to reader

if youre too busy thats fine

i absolutely read your username instead of price and started writing for graves until i realised, so uhhh... this idea but with phil coming at some point! also wasn't sure if you meant stress relief or stress relief, so this gets nsfw!!

thank u for the ask my little sunshine i hope you enjoy, i am never too busy for a request, especially not from a fellow graves lover <3

Pairing(s): Price x AFAB!reader (no gendered nicknames or pronouns) Warnings: NSFW, fingering, light dirty talk Wordcount: 2.2k Summary: Price gives you a hand winding down after a frustrating day at work, though mutual satisfaction is on his mind. AO3 Link: Right here <3

Full fic is under the cut <3

The pages rustle as John flickers through them, smoothing out with the tapping of your phone to create a peaceful, white noise. Yet despite the atmosphere, a heavy weight presses on your chest, brow furrowed and shoulders tight as you scroll through your apps. You can feel John's eyes on you, taking in your sullen form as you glare a hole into your screen.

"You're quiet, love."

John breaks the silence, looking down at his book again. You take a moment to compile a response, debating whether to delve into the frustrations of your week.

"Just a day, I guess."

He takes in the short, avoidant answer, thumbing the pages of his book. "Don't want to talk about it?"

"I don’t know. Not really."

John looks at you again, and this time, you turn to him too.

"Can I hold you?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. The moment your head inches forward, the book thuds onto his bedside table with a careless toss, immediately spreading his arms open. "C'mere, sweetheart."

You crawl into his lap, curling up and sinking into him. His arms wrap around you reflexively, bringing your head to rest against the bristle of his chest, the other arm rubbing up and down your back. He doesn't press the subject, just sets a steady pace to inhale and exhale with, rocking you softly with each breath.

After a few minutes, you initiate conversation yourself, mumbling against the skin of his sternum.

"So... Shit. Everything is so shit."

"Shit, love?"

You rub your cheek against his chest hair as you nod. "I hate people."

"Yeah?"

Drawing in a sharp breath, the feeling of burning frustration reignites in your lower stomach as you spill out an angry tirade. "God, I just want to tear their fucking heads off sometimes! I want one day, just one day, where I can speak my mind. I could ask them "oh, I'm sorry, is your fucking price wrong? Okay, now is it MY fault or YOUR fault that you didn't check the coupon was in date before you used it?" Maybe their fucking brains would start working if I didn’t have to just smile and say “yes customer, no customer! Whatever you want customer!” like the stupidest shit didn’t just come out their mouth!”

You turn, back pressed to his stomach as you gesture agitatedly. "I can't stand it! "Oh, oh! I dropped this jar and now it's cracked! Can I get it for free? Oh, my kid ate half of this apple, but he doesn't want it, so I'll just put it back on display! Let's berate this minimum-wage worker because the line was slightly long at midday, like they have any control over that!" Like, why do people become such monsters whenever they step foot into a store? My friend from that clothing shop down the street? She said someone tried to return a whole bag of dirty underwear, like what the fuck?"

Huffing, your jaw clenches tight as you cross your legs, flopping your head back against his shoulder dramatically.

"I'm sorry, baby." He murmurs lowly, running his hands up your arms, digging his thumbs into the tense flesh of your shoulder. "S'not fair, you deserve to be treated better than that, your friend too."

You soften into his arms, biting at the inside of your cheek. “I just wanna quit. Management sucks, everyone else working there is just as miserable. No wonder their turnover rate is so high.”

John’s hand drops down from your shoulder, running past your chest to rest against your midriff. "Always can, doll. Put in your two weeks, live off what I've got in the bank 'til y'find a better position. Y'know I'd let you never work a day in your life, if you'd let me."

His tone is gentle and passive, content in his reminder with your desire to keep financial independence and stay busy when he leaves for deployment. The room falls into silence again as you nestle into an arm, manoeuvring it to rest over your chest like a seatbelt and clip between your legs. His other arm rests along the length of your leg, and you feel him lean his weight back against the bed’s head as you continue thinking, playing with his arm hair absent-mindedly. John is content to let you fiddle away, his hand caught in the grip of your thighs comfortably, thumb traces little circles against the skin it rests between.

His body shifts underneath you after a few minutes of quiet, readjusting to move closer. You’re suddenly flush against him as he sits up, pulling you tighter against his soft, sturdy chest and pressing a kiss to the back of your head. The movement surprises a squeak out of you, squirming before a pressure against the crotch of your underwear stills you. Warm air brushes against your hair as John huffs in amusement, readjusting the hand cupped against your sex in an effort to tug you closer, intentionally positioning his hand to spread and fully cover your mound.

"John..."

He hums in response against your neck, lips pressed into the skin.

"Your hand."

"My hand, dove?" He pulls away, leaving one last kiss behind your ear.

"It's, ahhh...”

He flexes his fingers tighter for a second, the increase in pressure barely stimulating the sensitive nerves beneath. “What? Just movin’ you closer, ‘n my hand’s nice and warm down there.”

The playfully avoidant answer earns him an exasperated groan, though the desire seeping into you leaves it breathier than you’d like.

“Want me to stop?”

You shake your head before he can finish the sentence, grip tightening on his forearm. The vibration of his chuckles jostles you against his torso, warming your cheeks. Before you can exclaim your embarrassment, he shifts under the blankets and nudges your legs open, his feet hooking round your ankles to pin them apart. “How about some stress relief, hm? Get all those yucky feelings out for the night.”

His fingers trail teasingly against the hemline of your elastic, running his nails over the soft fat that meets the cotton barrier. All it takes is a “yes, please” for his fingers to breach the elastic, honing to your entrance only to glide back up the damp skin of your lips. At your whining insistence, his fingers deftly pull your lips apart, using his middle finger to collect the slick gathering between your folds and lather it against your clit. Your hips jerk at the contact, and John tuts, chasing your hips to flick his thumb over the sensitive button. “Askin’ for it, but y’won’t sit still, huh? Jus’ wanna help my baby feel better.”

Moving his arm to cup your chest, his hand crawls under your shirt to pinch your nipple, sending shivers down your spine as he rolls it between his fingers. Your whimpers only egg him on, emboldening him to trace little circles around your clit as he works to build the delicious tension growing between your legs.

Warmth flushes through your body, combining with the body heat radiating from John’s chest against your back, leaving you burning up in your own desire. It only takes minutes of John’s ministrations to draw wet squelches from between your legs, filling your ears as your eyes flutter closed, focusing on the way John’s fingers curl and tease around your most sensitive spot.  

“John, please…”

He takes your unspoken request without argument, leaving the begging for another night as his fingers leave your swollen nub to graze against your needy entrance. Your hole twitches at the slight contact, clenching as if to draw him in, eliciting a chuckle from John that goes unchallenged in your distracted state. Catching a line of slick dribbling down your perineum, he guides it back up, coating his fingers before he dips a digit into your hole.

You hiss wantonly at the sensations, hips bucking up to urge his finger in deeper, and John tuts. “Keep still, needy thing. Tryna play with this pretty cunt properly.”

He teases you with a sole finger, crooking it to stroke against the spongey muscle that has you leaking with each pass. Despite the stimulation, the single digit leaves your needy cunt feeling empty, fluttering against the intrusion with a desperation until you’re mewling for more.

“I know, y’need more, pet,” he murmurs into the skin behind your ear, dropping kisses down to your jaw. “Let me take care of you.”

The thick finger retreats from within you, leaving you whining in complaint as your hips chase his touch. Your eager hips are met with a firm spank to your folds, leaving John’s fingers trailing with slick as you gasp and retreat to the mattress, back against the protruding bulge in his lap. The compliance is rewarded with a soothing swipe of his fingers along your stinging lips, collecting arousal against his calloused skin. His fingertips circle teasingly at your entrance again, tracing the quivering muscle as he chuckles at your reactivity. Sensing the protest rising in you, he silences it with a swift thrust of his fingers, filling you up again.

His fingers work like they were designed to coax the stress from you with each drag, replacing the tension with a buzzing need for release that has you flexing and relaxing in waves against him. The pressure builds in the pit of your stomach as his fingers pump in and out of you, his other hand abandoning your breast and travelling down to reclaim its spot nestled against your clit, rolling tight circles around the nerve ending in harmony with the drive of his digits. He masterfully orchestrates your undoing, timing each thrust with each involuntary grind of your hips, kissing the salt from your neck as your head lulls against his shoulder, panting.

“Fuck, right there, m’so close John,” you moan, hands fumbling to find something to grip, finding purchase in his hairy thighs. The way your nails sink into the meat of his muscle has him groaning in your ear, breaking his smooth rhythm with a particularly deep thrust as he struggles to contain his enthusiasm. “Fuck, sweetheart, my god.”

Your cunt tightens so fiercely around his fingers that you’re sure they’re being crushed together as your orgasm hits you, squeezing the digits like you could milk the life out of them if you tried hard enough. John hums praise against your neck as he waits for your walls to relax to resume lazily thrusting in and out through the last sparks your climax, his own breath laboured as you tremble in his embrace.

His hand remains between your legs, fingers snug within you as your breathing evens out, the other travelling to trace small circles on the inside of your thigh. You float on the high of your orgasm, sweaty and satisfied as the strain dissipate from your legs, relaxing against John’s.

“Any improvement?”

You give him a breathless giggle, pulling your eyes open to tilt back and look at him. “Yeah, don’t feel like decapitating someone anymore.”

“Good.” He gives you a pleased smile, dotting a kiss on the corners of your lips. His face is warm and flushed, eyes still hazy with lust as he looks down at you, which brings a thought to your mind.

“Do you want me to take care of you…?”

His expression flickers to something guarded behind the smile, gently disentangling himself from your body. “I’m fine, don’t worry,” he announces gruffly, clearing his throat as he ducks into the bathroom. You frown, gazing at his retreating figure as you shuck off your soiled underwear, waiting for his return. He re-emerges with a damp cloth, crawling across the bed to kneel between your still spread legs, wiping delicately at the mess of arousal sticking to the sensitive surface of your skin.

The cloth is slightly warm as he pats at any excess water, collecting your dirty underwear as he pulls away. Walking to the closet, he discards the used fabrics in the laundry basket, grabbing another pair of underwear for you. Readjusting the sheets and blankets, you watch him quickly tug off his boxers, grabbing another pair that he manages to pull around his knees before you gasp in realisation.

“John, you didn’t?”

He turns around with a bashful expression, tucking himself into the crotch as he grins. “What? Pretty thing like you grinding up against me like that, can’t help myself.” Giving up with discretion, he chucks his own soiled boxers into the basket, returning to the bed with your underwear in an outstretched hand.

You pull them on as he climbs in next to you, tucking himself under the covers as you turn off the lamp and join him. He raises his arm, holding the blankets up like a cave as you grin sleepily, shuffling across the sheets to scoot into his embrace. The covers descend on you as John takes care to tuck them underneath you, entangling your legs between his as his hand finds home in your hair.

“Thank you, John. Was feeling really shitty about that.” You whisper into his chest, blinking your eyes closed as a sleepy warmth grows heavy in your limbs.

John grunts, patting at your hair. “S’what I’m made for, lookin’ after you. Get some sleep 'n we’ll work everythin’ out in the morning.”

A smile tugs at your lips as the last whisps of consciousness fade from your mind, and a gruff I love you is the last thing you remember before falling asleep.

[cowgurrrl]

Heya. Love the work, could we please get some Joel with the twins?

Hi! Thanks for the sweet words!! I hope you like this!!

Beautiful Girls

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: oh I love them

Summary: Your first night at home with your twins

Warnings: slight description of birth complications, NICU stay :(, new parent exhaustion, mention of Sarah’s husband!!, breastfeeding, idiots in love

When Sophia and Violet are born, they're small. Of course, you knew they would be. They're twins, and they were likely to be born earlier. Besides, Sammy was small too. You thought you had it handled. Sophia is born first at a whopping five pounds three ounces. Small but not too scary. She cried on your chest the second she entered the world, her little hands feeling your skin for the first time as she got acquainted with being outside your body. But Violet weighed four pounds eight ounces, and she didn't immediately cry. Your doctor put her on your chest, rubbing her back, as the nurses suctioned fluid out of her mouth, but she was silent. You looked at Joel, terrified, before looking down at her and watched those big brown eyes open and heard her wail. You sighed in relief and kissed her head, and you thought that was it.

To make a long story short, Violet spent a day and a half in the NICU because her lung function wasn't what it was supposed to be. Chump change compared to some of the babies that have been there for months, but seeing her hooked up to oxygen to stabilize her breathing ate you and Joel alive. Meanwhile, Sophia wouldn't breastfeed because she had a lip tie which made the entire process difficult for both of you and required intervention. You both cried for a long time, bouncing back and forth between the NICU and your recovery room as you scrambled to make the best decisions for your daughters. Needless to say, by the time you're discharged to go home a whole four days later, you're both exhausted.

Sammy falls in love with the girls and takes turns holding each of them even though he barely looks big enough to hold a baby. Daisy cautiously smells the girls' heads before giving them the gentlest kiss on the cheek and lying back down. She never was very interested in Sammy when he was this small. You give it six months before the three of them are partners in crime. Sarah, Ethan, Ellie, and Dina come home to meet the girls, which is no small feat considering how busy their own lives are. Hank and Lucia are scheduled to fly in later next week to help around the house and meet their newest granddaughters. Your house is a mess, and there's basically nothing in your fridge besides dinosaur chicken nuggets and apple sauce packets, and you would stress out about it if you didn't watch the love of your life interact with the lives you created.

After the older kids settle in their bedroom and Sammy begs to crawl into bed with Sarah and Ethan, you and Joel stay in the living room where you've sat since you came home from the hospital. He's holding Sophia on one knee and Violet on the other, and he just looks at them. You don't say anything because you're watching him watch them, but you wonder what he's thinking about. You wonder if he's memorizing their features to see if they're truly identical or not. You wonder if he's remembering when Sarah and Sam were babies. You wonder what he sees when he looks at them. Does he see the way their noses curve exactly like his? Or the way their cupid's bow bends like yours? Or the way that you can already see the wavy pattern in what little patch of dark hair they have?

He's gorgeous like this. His hair is a beast from all his worried tugging and playing, and the bags under his eyes are dark even though his frames cover them. He's wearing a loose flannel so he can unbutton and do skin-to-skin with the girls if he so chooses, and his soft smile is almost gentle enough to make you forget about the pain throbbing through your body.

The trance breaks when Violet fusses and wakes up Sophia. Like clockwork, you and Joel step into action. You take Violet in your arms, already unbuttoning your shirt to feed her, as he snuggles Sophia to his chest to get her back to sleep. There's a mess of tangled limbs and caught fabric, making Violet cry in that shaky newborn tone you were so used to when Sammy was born. You shush Vi and get her latched while Joel hums a song you can't make out. In seconds, both girls are content and quiet again, but Joel is still humming. You tune into the melody and try to place it, smiling when you can, even through the baby-shaped fog in your brain.

"Are you humming Van Halen to our daughter?" You ask, and he smiles, all bright and shy. You can't help but smile too.

"Gotta start 'em young, right?"

"Whatever you say, Miller."

Being a family of seven was never on your radar when you met Joel, but now that it's here and it's real, and you're each holding a perfect baby girl while your other three kids are sleeping upstairs, you can't imagine anything else. You're almost positive you would take this as sleep-deprived and pain-ridden as you are over anything someone could ever offer you. How could you not when Joel looks at you like you made the oceans and the stars while holding one of your newborns, his wedding band catching the lamplight as he hums Van Halen to her? And you're almost positive this is what love is meant to look like— not just perfect dates or surprise flowers but the long, hard nights spent rocking babies to sleep and still finding ways to hold each other even when you're on opposite sides of the couch.

[drpeppertummy]

Could we possibly have juicy writing from your a-z stuffing with Leon? uwu♡♡♡♡

ok this turned out so uneventful but i wanted to Not give him a killer tummyache for once😭😭😭 anyways Thank U 4 This i love using leon hes my friend

[stuffing, brief allusions to alcoholism & unhealthy body image]

Leon scooped the pile of freshly chopped strawberries into his hand and dropped them into the bowl. More than a few of them had disappeared into his tummy before the process was through, but that was alright; there was more than enough for the fruit salad. Humming softly to himself, he fished a couple apples out of the bag and began peeling them.

Shel and Angela were coming over later that day. It wasn't an out-of-the-ordinary plan; the three of them were always palling around at one of their houses, but Leon had decided on a whim to make a fruit salad for the occasion. He'd gone out and bought a variety of fruits: apples, bananas, grapes, berries, kiwis, even a quarter of a watermelon. As he'd shopped, he'd found himself feeling excited at the thought of making the salad. It wasn't often that Leon really prepared anything in the kitchen beyond frozen dinners, having little energy or motivation to care for himself these days, but now, as he stood at the counter chopping the fruit, he felt good.

As he chopped, it also began to dawn on Leon just how infrequently he made fresh fruit a part of his diet. He lived mostly on beer, cold pizza, and quick microwaveable meals--in that order--the exceptions being the times Shel dragged him out for some proper food. Good vegetables were rare, and good fruit was even rarer. He sliced up the apples and ate a slice before going across to dice the rest. Then, he ate a couple of the cubes before tossing the rest into the bowl.

Leon went on like this as he chopped. He knew he'd gone overboard at the store; if every bit of fruit went into the salad, it would be too much for the three of them to go through. Therefore, he reasoned, it was perfectly fine to nibble as he went. He did, after all, have to make sure it tasted good. He began peeling the kiwis, and, realizing he'd bought too many, ate a whole one while he chopped the rest. He moved on to the grapes, carefully plucking them from their stems and periodically popping one or two into his mouth as he put the rest in the bowl. He ate a good number of blueberries while he sifted through them to remove the bad ones, and a handful of banana slices as well.

Leon began to feel full about halfway through this process, but the allure of the fruit was irresistible, and by the time he got to the watermelon, he was feeling a little stuffed. He unwrapped the hunk of watermelon and began cutting it up. In spite of his full tummy, he couldn't resist eating a little piece as he chopped. And then another. And another still. It was a good-sized piece of melon, and by the time Leon was done dicing it up, even without the pieces he'd eaten, there was far too much for the salad. He added enough to make it look proportionate, then pondered the little pile of melon cubes left on his cutting board. His belly felt taut and bloated, but it didn't ache, and despite how full he felt, the melon was still immensely alluring. He supposed it couldn't hurt to eat a little.

He made it about halfway through the melon chunks before realizing just how stuffed he felt. What made him realize this was his tightly rounded-out belly bumping against the counter. He looked down, surprised. He'd started this task on a nearly-empty stomach, and while his tummy hadn't exactly been flat, it certainly hadn't been poking out as far as it was now. He felt a little silly for having eaten so much, but he didn't feel as bad as he would've had it been greasy takeout or one of his other usuals; at least fruit was healthy, and it sat easier in his stomach than a bunch of cold pizza or a big pork roll sandwich. Still, he was beyond full now, and his belly felt tight and stretched.

Leon turned away to find something to put the remaining melon in, then hesitated. He looked back at the cutting board. He'd eaten enough of it that there was only a tiny bit left, and it seemed silly to dirty up a container just for a few chunks of fruit. He supposed he could toss them in with the rest of the salad, but there was already so much watermelon in the bowl; he didn't want it to crowd out all the other fruit. He placed a hand on his tummy. It was round and firm, bulging out and pulling the soft fabric of his T-shirt taut. After a moment of hemming and hawing, Leon finally gave in and ate the last of the melon.

Finishing off the melon may have been a mistake, but it wasn't a bad one. His tummy felt drum-tight now, stuffed just about to its limit and sitting right on the brink of discomfort, but it didn't hurt. Resting one hand on it, he put a lid on the salad and stuck it in the fridge. He set the cutting board in the sink and nearly left it there, but, visions of ants in his mind, decided to wash it. His belly pressed against the counter as he did, and despite his best efforts, his shirt was wet by the time he finished.

Not caring at all for the chilly damp fabric clinging to him, Leon headed to his room to change his shirt. He tried not to look at his reflection as he pulled off the wet one, but he caught a quick glimpse of himself before turning away from the mirror and was shocked at how far his belly stuck out. He didn't think he'd eaten all that much, but he supposed all the here-and-there bites had to add up eventually. He threw on a soft sweater that he'd had for decades. It was a little worn out, but it was loose and comfortable, and he hoped it might conceal his distended tummy a little more than the snug T-shirt had.

With the salad made, the kitchen in order, and a fresh dry outfit, Leon returned to the living room. It was a little after noon; Angela and Shel would be over within the hour. He would almost certainly be too full to eat any of the fruit salad himself, but that would be alright. He'd eaten plenty of fruit for one day, and he could enjoy his share of it later. Ready for a break, Leon sat down on the couch, stretched a bit, then leaned back and settled into the cushion, hands resting comfortably on his full belly.

[voraciousvore]

Boarding School for Giants (10/25)

------ Chapter 10 ------

My thoughts were in a frantic whirl as I raced to my next class. Human trafficking was a very scary idea in itself, and thinking about being kidnapped made me feel vulnerable and helpless, but it was a remote possibility, and I didn’t want to delve into it too much. My more immediate concern was with my homework assignment. I wouldn’t be able to type up my essay on a giant computer by myself. Such a herculean feat would take hours, if it were even possible. I needed help. 

I pulled into my next class a mere minute before the bell rang and hurried to my seat to avoid unwanted attention. My next class was chemistry, which was far from being my strongest subject. I should have been paying close attention, but I couldn’t focus with all the stress I was under. How the heck was I going to accomplish this task?

I considered asking Mr. Henderson for assistance, but I really didn’t want to bother him more after he had already gone so far out of his way to help me.  Besides, I knew I would eventually have to get to know my peers. I wasn’t going to survive at this school without any friends, and I couldn’t rely on the vice principal for everything. At some point I would be forced to interact with giant students, so why not now? Keeping a low profile, I subtly glanced around at the giants around me. I was strongly intimidated by their grand size. None of them looked very approachable. I slumped down in my chair despondently. 

The problem was only compounded when the chemistry teacher assigned homework too. Now I had two homework assignments that somehow would need to be scaled up to giant size. At least I only had two classes today, since my sixth slot was empty. The bell rang and I waited for a good opportunity to leave, making sure the chemistry teacher didn’t harass me on the way out. I went to the dining hall and found a brown bag lunch waiting for me, with a ham and cheese sandwich, some carrots, cookies, and apple juice. Not bad. I decided to be brave and ate my lunch in the cafeteria like a normal person. Nobody bothered me, but I also was too skittish to interface with anybody. The lunchroom environment was too crowded and noisy, dampening my spirit further. Being such a coward left me downright miserable. I felt pathetic. 

Procrastinating on the inevitable, I reasoned that my next course of action should be to finish the assignments before I asked any of the giants for help. That way, when I worked up to that point, I would be fully prepared. I would use my time efficiently, get all my work done during sixth period when all the other students were in class, and then I would have the whole weekend to manifest the courage to speak up, since I wouldn’t have these classes again until Tuesday. Resolved, I headed for the library. 

I didn’t want to get yelled at again, so I kept a wary eye out for the strict librarian as I slunk over to the human tables. Thankfully, I was left alone this time. The library, in stark contrast to the lunchroom, was deathly quiet, except for the bell signaling the beginning of sixth period. The hush allowed me to focus, and I slogged through my essay fairly quickly. The final product was a bit sloppy, but I was past the point of caring: I just wanted to get it done. The chemistry homework was harder, especially since I hadn’t paid any attention during the teacher’s lecture. I had to read through the class material, and I didn’t fully grasp some of the concepts, but I answered the questions as best I could. 

The time slipped by, and before I knew it the school day had ended. The easy part was done. Now for the hard part. I felt a surge of misery as I heard all the giants tramping through the halls, talking and yelling, happy and carefree, glad to be done with their school week. I wished I could be that blissfully unaware, but my disquieting obstacles were only growing larger. 

One of the giant students entered the library. At first, due to his incredible height, I didn’t see his face, but I did recognize his shoes. He wore black and white sneakers, and I wracked my brains trying to recall where I had seen them before. Then it hit me: He was the giant whose shoe I had collided with the other day. My knees still ached as a painful reminder. A spark flamed within me. This was my chance! He would be the perfect person to ask, since technically we weren’t total strangers. Plus, while I had freaked out at the time, he seemed harmless enough. 

I jumped up from my chair, full of determination, and followed him in between the rows of bookshelves. As I approached, however, and saw his tremendous size close up, my throat started to close up, and I labored to breathe. How did I know he wouldn’t take the chance to do something terrible if he saw me? The giant history teacher’s ominous warning had been burned into my psyche. The library was mostly empty, since no students wanted to be here on a Friday afternoon. Glancing about, I suspected even the librarian had called it a day and dipped out early. I couldn’t forget the terrifying experience of being eaten, or picked up and taken against my will. My chest hurt as my heart palpitated frantically. 

I took measured breaths, trying to keep myself from hyperventilating. I needed to do this, if not now then I would still be forced to later. I couldn’t back down and be cowed into submission. My famous temper flared up as I started to get frustrated with myself, my circumstances, everything. I was tired and fed up of being weak and scared all the time. Before I could back out, I forced my legs forward, toward the giant. My legs wobbled like they were made of jello. The giant took a leisurely step away and I hurried to catch up. 

My nerves were screaming at me to turn and run, but I ignored the impulse. “Excuse me,” I whispered. Of course, the giant couldn’t hear me, and took another massive step away as he examined the books on the adjacent shelf. “Um… excuse me,” I uttered again, slightly louder, my voice an octave higher. He still couldn’t hear me and continued to move, making me run to keep pace. 

“Hey, you!” I finally cried out, kicking his shoe to get his attention. I clapped my hand over my mouth as I realized what I had done. At long last, he looked down, seeming puzzled before he saw me. His eyes lit up with recognition. 

“Oh, it’s you!” he said with surprise. He squatted down, holding a book in one hand. “How are your knees? I’m sorry about the other day.” 

“F-fine,” I mumbled. Reason left me, and my mind went blank as I forgot what I was doing. I could only gape at the monumental being leaning over me like a skyscraper. 

The giant sensed the tension and fumbled with the book in his hand clumsily. “Um…” He didn’t know what to do. There was an awkward silence. I licked my lips nervously and struggled to talk. 

“You owe me a favor!” I blurted out. By this point my voice was shaking as much as my body. 

His eyebrows shot up over his glasses. “I suppose I do, don’t I?” He smiled sheepishly. “What can I do for you?” 

“Well…” I pulled the crumpled pages of homework out of my pocket and held them up above my head to show him. He squinted, confused, and leaned forward, straining to see what I was holding. 

“What’s that?” he inquired. 

“It’s my homework,” I responded. 

He laughed. “That? Let me see.” He held out his huge hand. I placed the papers on the tip of his finger. He lifted them up to his eye to get a closer look. “Why… it’s so tiny! Nobody would be able to read this!” He let out another hearty laugh, a deep, jovial sound that warmed my insides, even if he was indirectly laughing at my size. I had to admit the whole situation was farcical to begin with. 

“That’s my problem. I need someone to type it up for me so the teachers can actually see my work,” I explained smoothly. I was starting to feel a bit more relaxed around him. “Can you help me? Please?” 

“Well, sure! Of course!” he answered enthusiastically. “Here, I’ll take you over to the computers.” He offered me his free hand again. The papers looked so preposterously insignificant in the landscape of his hand, like little scraps of pencil shavings. My pulse tripled but I obediently climbed into his palm and gathered my papers. To my surprise, his hand was vibrating slightly. I wasn’t sure why but I settled in anyway and prepared myself to be raised up. 

“O-okay, I’m going to pick you up now, is that okay?” he asked. I detected a light tremor in his voice. I gazed up at him and nodded. Very slowly, as if handling something fragile, he carefully stood up and took gradual, timid steps towards the computers. I appreciated his attempts to be gentle and waited patiently. His palm, much to my discomfort, started to get damp. What was wrong with him? Was he sick? 

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked him as he set me down on the desk next to one of the computers. 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, a bit flustered. “Sorry if my hand got a little sweaty.” He self-consciously wiped his moist palms off on his pants. “I-I just… you know… get a little nervous around girls sometimes. Especially… um… holding one?” He blushed bright red.  

I couldn’t help but giggle. He was precious. “Imagine that! A giant being scared of a tiny little girl like me!” I teased him. He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Suddenly, I felt a lot better as my fear melted away. 

“Alright, enough fooling around. Let’s get this homework typed up,” the giant said, flopping down into a chair. He pulled up a blank document on the giant screen and got ready to type. “You’re going to have to dictate to me, because I can’t read your small writing.” 

I started reading my history essay out loud to him. His fingers, despite their size, were remarkably fast and efficient, dancing across the keyboard with satisfying clicks at every stroke. I was impressed to see he was able to keep pace with my words as I read. Admittedly, I was a little embarrassed at the poor quality of my writing, and having to read it out loud, but I knew I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. We finished the essay and moved on to the chemistry homework. The formatting was more of a challenge here but we got it done. 

“What’s your name?” the giant asked me. “Uh, so I can write it at the top of the page.” 

“Eren Brooks.” He filled it in on the digital documents and hit print. “What about you?” I questioned him. 

“Oh, me?” He turned red again. “M-my name’s Joey. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.” 

I giggled again. “Thank you, Joey. Likewise.” He swiftly stood up and turned away, ostensibly to fetch my homework off the printer, but I suspected he wanted to hide his burning face. He returned, papers in hand, with his face a normal color again. 

“Um… what are you planning to do with these?” He brought up a good point. The papers were too large for me to hold. How would I carry them around and turn them in to the teacher? 

“Let’s see if we can fold them up small enough to fit in my backpack,” I suggested. I pointed off in the general direction of the human section of the library. “If you could transport me over there, that would be most helpful.” 

“S-sure,” he agreed, laying his hand flat on the table. When I pulled myself up into his capacious hand and moved to the center, in the curve of his palm, I observed that he trembled, ever so slightly. For his sake, I pretended not to notice. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” I informed him. The giant—Joey—cupped me in his hand and gently carried me to where I had left my bag. His skin moistened with perspiration again, and I was grateful to get off his hand when he lowered me to the floor. He folded up the papers as small as he could and I managed to stuff them inside my bag. I shouldered the bag and gazed up at the giant. 

I let out a shaky sigh of relief. I felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off my shoulders. “I really, really appreciate your help, Joey. You have no idea. Thank you so much.” 

“It was no trouble. I’m glad I was able to help.” He smiled shyly. 

“Can I count on you to help me again?” I asked timidly. 

“Yes, absolutely! I hang out in the library a lot, so you can usually find me here,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. My goodness, he was such a huge nerd. Literally. 

“Okay,” I replied. I stared up at him for a moment. I could scarcely believe I had finally made a friend. A giant friend. “Well, see ya!” I hopped on my bike and rode away. 

Next chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731605156194615296/boarding-school-for-giants-1125?source=share

1st chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731600430392639488/boarding-school-for-giants-125?source=share

[insomniacwriter17]

Saved from the Flames - Chapter Fifteen

“When you’re born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it’s not.” –Richard Kadrey

Billy Hargrove is 9 years old. He tries his best to be the son his father wants him to be - quiet, respectful, and obedient. But Neil just pushes harder and harder, all in the name of raising a “strong man”. When Billy is removed from his father’s custody and placed in foster care, it takes some time for him to realize his world is no longer burning around him. New experiences, new people, new opportunities all make Billy realize there’s a whole lot more to life than respect and responsibility.

AKA: The story of how Bob Newby became a real life superhero for one little boy who needed saving.

Inspired by this post I saw from @connordax

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten | chapter eleven | chapter twelve | chapter thirteen | chapter fourteen

read on ao3

“Well look who it is!” Ms. MacDonald smiled as she opened the backdoor to the red sedan Bob drove. “Hey Bob, how are you?”

“Doing great, Ms. MacDonald! Hey Bills, you have a good day?” Bob greeted, turning in his seat to smile at both of them. Billy nodded eagerly, grinning when he saw Winslow in his seat. 

“You remembered him!” Billy gasped happily, quickly scooping the stuffed animal up before he buckled into the seat. He held the bear up toward Ms. MacDonald with a smile. “Look at the toy Mr. Bob bought me!”

“Oh man, what a cool bear!” Ms. MacDonald replied with just the right amount of enthusiasm. “What’s his name?” 

“Winslow,” Billy replied easily, hugging the bear back to his chest. “Mr. Bob brought him so he can go with me to therapy. Right?” He looked back toward the front suit where Bob was nodding his agreement.

“Sure did,” Bob smiled. “You ready to head out, kiddo?” Billy nodded from where he was sitting, smiling up at Ms. MacDonald. 

“Bye!” he chirped. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” The teacher waved to him and echoed the sentiment before closing the door. In the newfound silence, Billy could hear pop music playing softly over the radio up front. 

As Bob pulled out of the school parking lot, the man reached for something in the passenger seat, passing a brown lunch bag back to Billy. “I brought your snack for you,” he offered, and the blonde gasped happily. “No peanut butter for the apple,” Bob said apologetically. “Because you know, car and all,” he laughed. “But I’ve got a water bottle up here for you too, if you want it.” 

“Thank you!” Billy replied as he dug into the bag. He pulled out some string cheeses and a bag of sliced up apples. “The white cheese is my favorite!” Billy began to unwrap the snack immediately, suddenly aware that he was starving. 

“Oh good!” Bob replied, mentally filing that information away for later. “Because I need to get some more soon, so it’s good to know what kind you want.”

Billy didn’t answer, too busy chomping down on the first apple slice he’d pulled out of the bag. Winslow was still trapped in the crook of the blonde’s elbow, the boy looking out the window as he ate his snack. The sight once more reminded Bob how young Billy truly was, and he fought back a sad smile. 

Dr. Marcus’s office wasn’t too far from the school, so it wasn’t long before Bob pulled into the parking lot of an unassuming building. “We have a few minutes still, so don’t start trying to scarf that snack down,” Bob warned. “You’ve got time to eat it.”

“Okay,” Billy mumbled through a mouthful of apple. After swallowing the bite, he held his free hand out toward Bob. “Can I have my water, please?” Bob passed the drink back without issue, and the two of them sat in content silence, listening to the radio while Billy ate his snack. 

Unwrapping the string cheese, Billy looked out the windshield at the building. “This is where Dr. Marcus works?” he asked. “This isn’t a doctor’s office.” 

“True, it doesn’t look like one,” Bob agreed with a chuckle. “But yeah, this is where Dr. Marcus works. You’ll see, he’s a different type of doctor. He’s not like Dr. Luke. Dr. Marcus will do more stuff like talking and playing, and less examining.” 

Nerves began to creep into Billy’s chest at the thought of going in and talking to another adult. “What if I say the wrong thing?” he asked suddenly, blurting the words out before he gave himself the opportunity to stop talking. 

Bob turned in his seat so that he could see Billy, shaking his head. “There’s no such thing as the wrong thing, Billy. Dr. Marcus just wants to get to know you a bit.” 

Billy frowned, tugging nervously on Winslow’s arm. “Last time I talked to Ms. Diane, that’s when Ms. Gabby came and took me away.”

Oh. The implication of what Billy was saying hit Bob like a ton of bricks. He wanted to tell Billy that wouldn’t happen, because Bob was actually taking care of Billy. He wished he could make Billy understand that he wasn’t placed with Bob because of what Billy said, but because of what his dad had done. 

Instead, Bob offered Billy a reassuring smile. “I’ll be in there with you, remember? I’ll make sure Dr. Marcus knows that’s not what you want.” 

Billy munched on the last bit of the string cheese in his hand, studying Bob closely. “Promise?” he whispered. Bob didn’t miss the importance of the fact that this was the second time now that Billy had asked Bob to make him a promise. 

“I promise,” Bob echoed. “We’ll even tell him that when we get started. Is there anything else you want Dr. Marcus to know?” He waited as Billy seemed to retreat into his own head, thinking for a few moments before the blonde was shrugging. 

“I don’t know,” Billy whispered. “I just…” he trailed off, looking back down at Winslow. “I’m scared I’ll say something and mess up.”

Bob shook his head. “You aren’t going to mess anything up.” Billy wouldn’t meet Bob’s eyes, the boy gathering the discarded cheese stick wrappers and dropping them into the brown lunch bag beside him. “We’re going to go in here so you and Dr. Marcus can talk, and then we’ll go buy your calendar and pick up some dinner on the way home. Nothing’s going to change, you aren’t going to mess anything up, and it’ll all be the same as yesterday. Does that make sense?”

Billy nodded and finally peeked up at Bob. “Can we have KFC?” he wondered softly. Bob was smiling at him, his gaze making Billy feel better already. That was new, Billy realized. 

“Would that make you happy?” 

Billy paused, the silence stretching for a few moments. “Yeah.” 

“Then yes, KFC it is,” Bob agreed with a quick nod. “You ready to head inside?” 

Swallowing thickly, Billy nodded and hugged Winslow tighter to his chest. With that, Bob turned off the car and hopped out, making his way around to Billy’s door. The boy was just climbing out of his own seat, and he seemed to migrate toward Bob. 

By the time they reached the door that read Dr. Vincent Marcus, PhD, Billy had wiggled his hand into Bob’s. Smaller print beneath the name read Pediatric Counselor. Bob reached to open the door, and Billy pressed as close to Bob as he dared. 

The waiting room was small but bright. There were a few chairs pushed up against a wall and a door on the other wall. A small window slid open and Bob looked over to see a receptionist smiling at them. “Hey there!” she greeted. “Is this Billy?”

“Sure is,” Bob smiled. “We have a 4:15 with Dr. Marcus.” 

“You got it, I’ll get you guys checked in. Give him a few minutes and we’ll have you back in his office.” She smiled at them, the window sliding shut just as quickly as it had opened. Bob led them to the chairs and Billy climbed into a seat with Winslow in his arms. 

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Billy’s arm looped through Bob’s as he played with Winslow. It wasn’t too long before the door across from them swung open, and a tall man stood in the doorway. “Billy Hargrove?” he guessed, dark eyes landing on Billy. 

Billy nodded meekly, and the doctor gestured for Billy to follow him. “Nice to meet you, kiddo. I’m Dr. Marcus. You ready to head back?” The man looked nice enough, so Billy stood up off the chair and turned to look at Bob, who was moving to stand as well. “Oh, you can wait out here, Mr. Newby,” the doctor insisted. 

Immediately, Billy frowned, fear building in his stomach. His eyes widened as he looked at Bob. “You said you were coming with me!” he whimpered, tears already gathering in his eyes. 

“I am, Billy, it’s okay,” Bob soothed, standing and putting his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “We wanted to do this first one together, if that’s alright? Billy’s not a huge fan of doing new things by himself the first time.”

“Oh yeah, of course!” Dr. Marcus agreed, waving them both back. “Not a problem at all. The more the merrier, I say.” 

Billy tried to will his heart back down into his chest as he and Bob followed Dr. Marcus to a room that held an armchair and a few couches and tables full of toys. “So, Billy, we’ve got all sorts of toys you can play with while we talk if you’d like, or we can just sit down over here and chat.” The doctor gestured to the couches, but Billy had already locked in on the box of Legos by one of the tables. 

Bob sat down on the couch cushion furthest from Billy, allowing Dr. Marcus to settle near Billy. The man picked up some Legos and began to build his own tower while Billy did the same, the room settling into a somewhat uncomfortable silence. “So, Billy,” Dr. Marcus offered after just a minute, “Did you have a good day at school?” 

“Yeah,” Billy replied softly, clicking two Legos together before looking up at the man across the table. “I don’t want to leave Mr. Bob’s house.” His voice was stronger, more forceful than normal, and even Bob raised his eyebrow at the sudden change in demeanor. 

“Oh yeah?” Dr. Marcus encouraged Billy to say more, but the boy simply gave him a half-hearted glare and didn’t add anything further. “Did somebody tell you you’re going to leave Bob’s house?” Dr. Marcus wondered. 

Billy shook his head, finally moving his gaze back down to the toys on the table. “No, but when I talked to Ms. Diane at school, that’s when Ms. Gabby came and told me my dad was in trouble and then I came to live with Mr. Bob.”

“That must’ve been really scary. I can see how you wouldn’t want to do that again,” Dr. Marcus empathized. “Did Ms. Gabby tell you why you had to come live with Bob?” 

Billy was quiet for a minute, choosing to instead pick at the Lego tower he was building. A red block disconnected from the yellow one below it, clattering across the table. Billy’s nail pried at the yellow block, separating it from the blue block at the base of the tower. Only then did Billy answer: “Because she said my dad wasn’t taking care of me.”

Then with a precision only found in a kid trying to avoid eye contact, Billy began to click the Legos back together. Dr. Marcus waited patiently, like he knew Billy had more to say. The silence stretched longer and longer, and Bob itched to say something to break the heavy quiet in the room.

Then Billy’s eyes darted up to Dr. Marcus, over to Bob, and then back at the ever-growing Lego tower. “But Mr. Bob takes care of me so I don’t want to leave.” The first part of the sentence was a simple statement, one Bob knew to be true, but it still made him want to cry. To hear Billy recognize it and then sound so scared to lose it was heartbreaking. 

Dr. Marcus was still watching Billy closely. “Well since Bob is taking care of you, then there’s no reason for you to need to leave, right?” 

Billy paused what he was doing, a Lego forgotten in his grasp as he looked up at Dr. Marcus. “I guess not,” he murmured after a second. Bob watched as Billy’s demeanor seemed to relax, his shoulders loosening and posture straightening. 

Dr. Marcus noticed the shift in Billy’s body language as well, and he smiled kindly as he offered Billy another Lego. “And I’m not here to try and make your life harder, Billy. I’m here to help you understand some of the things that are happening around you and the feelings you’re having. Anything you said in here is kept between you, me, and Mr. Bob, if you want him in the room with you. The only time I can tell somebody else, like Ms. Gabby or the police, is if you are hurting someone or someone is hurting you.”

Billy thought through what Dr. Marcus was telling him. “What kind of stuff do we talk about?” he wondered. His Lego tower was fairly tall now, reaching up from the table and up nearly to Billy’s chest. But still he stacked more blocks on top of one another, clicking them together quietly. 

“Whatever you want to,” Dr. Marcus replied. “We can talk about school, or Bob’s house, or if you saw a new movie you liked. And even if you don’t know what you want to talk about, I’ll ask you questions, but you can always tell me if you don’t want to talk about that, and I’ll ask you something else instead.”

Billy nodded, then bit at his lip shyly. “I don’t know what I want to talk about,” he admitted. “Can you ask me some questions?” 

After that, the rest of the hour passed quickly. Dr. Marcus kept the conversation at surface level for today, asking Billy about school and his favorite movies while they played with different toys in the room. Bob watched proudly as Billy answered the questions with little hesitation, growing a bit more confident as the session went on. 

Just as Billy felt like he was getting more comfortable with the idea of this whole therapy thing, Dr. Marcus said, “We’re about out of time for today, Billy. How are you feeling now that we’re wrapping up?”

“That wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be,” Billy admitted, hugging Winslow to his chest as he stood up. He was gravitating toward Bob almost instinctively, and Dr. Marcus was smiling at him. 

“You did a great job,” the counselor encouraged. “Would you feel up to doing this again next week?”

Billy thought for a moment and then nodded. “I think so. I can bring Winslow with me?” he confirmed. Dr. Marcus nodded, the trio heading for the front lobby. 

“Winslow is always welcome.” As Dr. Marcus held open the door to the lobby, he reached out to shake Billy’s hand. The boy initially flinched away from his hand, but then cautiously reached forward to shake his hand. Dr. Marcus smiled reassuringly and then shook Bob’s hand, offering a quiet, “See you guys next week.”

It wasn’t until they were in the parking lot that Billy looked up at Bob, squinting against the sun setting above them. “Did I do good?” he asked quietly, his voice soft enough that Bob almost missed it in the wind. 

“You did incredible, kiddo,” Bob reassured him, reaching out to ruffle Billy’s hair. “I am so proud of you for trying new things so bravely.” He went to pull away his hand, and Bob was surprised when Billy’s hand instead reached for Bob’s as they walked toward the car. Bob tried not to overreact, simply squeezing Billy’s hand in his to reassure him that it was okay. 

Billy wasn’t sure why he had reached for Bob’s hand – all he knew was that when Bob had pulled away from messing up his hair, he didn’t want to lose the comforting touch. So he’d reacted before he could think about it and had grabbed at Bob’s hand. 

For a second Billy was afraid he’d made the wrong decision, and he thought about pulling his hand out of Bob’s. But then Bob had squeezed his hand, and whatever fear Billy had felt melted away as they approached the car. 

Billy had long ago lost count of how many times he’d been asked by teachers or counselors, “Do you feel safe at home, Billy?” He’d never truly understood what they were asking, why they were so worried about him. But now he got it. 

For what felt like the first time, Billy knew what to expect. He knew they’d get in the car, they’d go to the store for his calendar and then KFC to get some dinner, and then Billy would get to play outside until it was time to shower and go to bed. He knew that tomorrow morning he’d get up, Bob would drive him to school, and Bob would be there to pick him up at the end of the school day. 

As he let go of Bob’s hand to climb into the back seat, Billy knew what safe meant. It was what he felt here and now, and what he’d never felt with his dad. All that time, and he hadn’t even known. 

For a split second, Billy let himself wonder what it would be like if he stayed with Bob forever. If that meant he’d feel safe forever. As he looked out the window of the backseat, Billy thought maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. 

[a-strange-inkling]

First of all, I LOVED THE UPDATE OF OLD HAUNTS. Second I am now Craving for a back story especially with what was written in the new chapter, you have me HOOKED.

😭 Thank you so much!! Oh yes, I’m absolutely working on a prequel. I plan to post it once Old Haunts is finished just so I’m not having too many stories to update at once. BUT how about a little snippet of it??

For context: This is after Chrissy escapes the upside down and is hiding out with Eddie at Reefer Rick’s:

***

The knocks help. Their secret little code.

Four beats. The question.

Are you still there?

Two beats. The answer.

I’m here.

He does it twice while she changes after her shower.

Even a thin wall between them is too much.

Nancy and Steve drop off a box of food, clothes, and supplies.

It’s left on the front steps, with a note on where to meet in the morning. He sighs, picking it up and carrying it to the living room.

She’s sitting in the middle of the couch, in his flannel that looks like it could swallow her whole, her arms wrapped around her knees, head against them, resting to the side. Her hair is still partially wet from her shower. She looks small and tired… she’s not moving.

“Chrissy?” he beckons worriedly, blood running cold.

Chrissy, wake up! C’mon, Chrissy!

She looks up at him and smiles a sweet little smile, her blue eyes shining in the evening light, clear of any pale foggy gloss.

I’m here.

His relief is palpable as he makes his way over to her, setting the box on the coffee table before looking through it.

“Care package.” he supplies, feeling her curious eyes on him. He glances up to see her smile gone, she looks pale, light bruising under her eyes.

“We should probably eat something.” he muses out loud, as he digs through. There’s two apples, a loaf of sliced bread, a bag of rice, saltines, Jiff, jam, a box of pasta, Poptarts, canned vegetables, soups, bottled water, soda, Slim Jim’s.

“Very nutritious, Wheeler,” he quips at the box. “All of the food groups are represented.”

Chrissy emits a soft, amused snort and Eddie gives her a wry smile as he takes a bite of an apple. It’s thick skinned and a little mealy, but hungry as he is, it’s damn near the most delicious thing he has ever tasted.

She's still watching him, fixated.

Undaunted, he keeps her gaze as he chews, wiping the juice from the fruit dripping down his chin with the sleeve of his shirt.

Eat your heart out, Cunningham, I’ve been watching you a lot longer.

“You hungry?”

She shakes her head slowly, turning back to rest on her knees, forfeiting their staring contest.

He frowns. “When was the last time you ate something?”

He’s already doing the math in his head. Three days in that hell hole. She never eats lunch at school. He picked her up right after the game.

Four days!?

She shrugs her shoulders in reply.

“Chrissy…”

“I’m not hungry.” she murmurs softly. It’s the first time she’s spoken in hours.

“Yeah, well, you have to eat something,'' he insists, grabbing a sleeve of saltines and a soda, coming to sit beside her. She turns further away from him. He gives her a few seconds before gently nudging her with his elbow.

Fucking pushing a full work week without eating anything.

“Chrissy, c’mon.” he whispers. Forget the demon from a parallel universe she somehow managed to survive, he’s going to lose her to something as base as starvation.

“I can’t, Eddie.”

“You have to try.” he pleads gently.

“No.” She shakes her head vigorously, meeting his gaze. “…I’ll just get sick.” she tells him, like it’s a big dark secret, tears in the corner of her eyes. She buries her face in her hands. “I don’t want to get sick.”

[feverinfeveroutfic]

hanukkahbingo 2023

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: alone in the dark, chapter three: “Without a Paddle” Author/Artist Name: josiebelladonna Fandom: Testament (Band) Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Alex Skolnick (and how) Bingo Squares Being Filled: latkes (u1), dreidel (h1), miracle (h1), "a great miracle happened there" (u5), debate (h5) Rating: Mature Warning(s): Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Link to Work: x @aimmyarrowshigh

Candles surrounded me and Christine as we took our seats at the table next to Wendy and her grandparents; things were so cold in that house that they let the bags of groceries rest on the kitchen floor behind them, including the bag with the frozen food. I had a hunch that things were going to be rather awkward, given the fact that I was still wearing my leather pants and the fact that Christine had just touched me and kissed me as if it was all going out of style. My face was still warm from her kisses, and because we had eaten at a restaurant before then, there was no way I could eat even more. But we hung out there at the kitchen table as her grandparents ate their dinner so they wouldn't be alone in the dark with all of this warm food. They had some of the pie as well as a whole roasted chicken that stayed fresh and warm in spite of the cold; they did in fact have a hot plate that worked on batteries, and thus, they were able to have mashed potatoes as well. I was eager to have some for the next day, given this blizzard was going to be with us for a while.

I knew it wasn't latkes, but I wasn't going to turn down warmed mashed potatoes and chicken for nothing, however. They also offered me and Wendy some freshly pressed cider, and Christine some sparkling cider given she wasn't old enough to drink yet.

Every so often, through the cold candlelight, she flashed a glimpse over at me as she took a sip of her sparkling cider. Even in the darkness, I could see the look in her eyes. She wanted another taste of the Skolnick.

“He's too old for you, honey,” her grandmother said with a straight face.

“That's what I told her!” Wendy declared. “Teenagers, Mom. You know how we were back then.”

“Oh, of course! We had our feelings then, and some things just never change.”

I took a sip of the fresh cider, which they had also bought from down in Carson City: apparently, it had been freshly squeezed in the grocery store, so it still had some small pieces of apple skin and some pulp inside. I liked a little pulp but the flavor knocked me right between the eyes once I took a sip; it was the kind of cider that came straight out from an orchard, too, so I had that rich flavor of the apples as well as a little hint of alcohol in there as well.

In fact, it came to me so strongly that I nearly choked once I swallowed it.

“Are you alright, son?” her grandfather asked me. “Is that cider too strong for you?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” I assured him with a quick shake of my head. “In fact, I would say that this cider is just right, actually.”

“How's the chicken, Grandpa?” Christine quipped right then.

“Oh, it's delicious. It'll be even better come the morning.”

“This kind of reminds me of all of the warm, humble food we eat at Hanukkah,” I noted. “I reckon the mashed potatoes are perfect, too.”

“We're sorry it's not latkes,” her grandmother told me with a shake of her head.

“Oh, no, it's okay! My family's not traditional with our Jewishness so... there are a lot of things that we don't do. We're a lot more easygoing with it all, but we still are who we are, though. We could make latkes tomorrow, though. Nice little taste of the diaspora once daybreak comes about.” I took another sip of cider and I could feel my belly starting to swell up from all the decadent food I had eaten. It was after Thanksgiving and nearly Hanukkah: I deserved an indulgence every now and again, even without my parents there with me.

“How do you make latkes?” Christine asked me.

“It's not hard at all,” I told her. “Have you ever had potato pancakes?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“They're a lot like that, except they also have some onion, an egg, and matzo meal in them. Or—” I turned my attention to her grandmother. “—baking powder if Bubbie doesn't have matzo meal in the house.” And she smiled as she took another bite of potatoes. “They don't sound like much but a couple of them fill me right up without even a second thought. We usually eat 'em with sour cream and applesauce, which always puts me to sleep after the fact.”

“When is Hanukkah, by the way?” her grandfather asked me.

“First night's on Monday when the sun goes down,” I replied. “I was hoping to get home to be with my parents because I missed Thanksgiving and all. I also don't have a lot of money, either. It was either get something to eat and be left out in the cold, or have a hotel room and nothing to eat.”

“So, it's a good thing that my daughter and granddaughter scooped you up out of the cold, eh?” He showed me a smile.

“Oh, absolutely! I'm happy as a clam, as it were. Had a nice big sandwich with some French fries and a cup of coffee.” I turned my attention over to Christine, who, for a brief moment, licked her lips at the sight of me. If only I could see inside of that mind of hers.

“We only have two guest rooms,” her grandmother joined in. “I just wonder where you're going to sleep.”

“I'll take the couch,” I offered.

“Oh, no, Alex, I'll take the couch,” Wendy promised me right then.

“No, no, no, Wendy, this is your parents' house, you should take a nice comfy bed. Besides, I've slept on plenty of couches before in my twenty six years, it's not that bad in my eyes.”

“It's not really all that comfortable, though,” she pointed. “It's one of those sofa beds.”

“I've slept on a few of those before,” I said. “As long as there's no bar right in my back, I'll do it.”

“Alex, you're our guest,” Wendy insisted. “I'll take the sofa bed, you take the guest room. It's only fair.”

I sighed through my nose and lowered my gaze to the glass of cider on my lap.

“Okay, I'll take it,” I said in a low voice, to which Christine giggled at me.

“He's a good boy,” I heard her grandmother say to Wendy right then.

“It wouldn't be Hanukkah without a little bit of witty bickering,” I declared as I downed another swig of cider, a much heartier drink that time around and to the point it nearly made me cough. But I got it down, and I ran my fingers through my hair and I stood to my feet, and I offered to take their empty plates over to the sink. Wendy was right: I was a guest in the house, and thus, I should act like one.

“What exactly do you do, son?” he asked me in a low voice as he stood up before me.

“I'm a musician,” I said as I held his plate in one hand. “I brought my guitar with me and everything. Starting from when I was about eleven years old to about three years ago, I played strictly rock n' roll and heavy metal. But now I've branched out into the jazz world.”

“You sound like a very diligent fellow,” he remarked, to which I shrugged my shoulders.

“It's just... what I do,” I told him. “My parents raised me to be focused on what I do. They were sort... begrudging, I'd say, about it. About towards my path to music, but they've actually been very supportive of me nonetheless, and especially the case when I moved over into jazz territory.” He set a hand on my shoulder out of comfort.

“Good job, young man,” he told me, and the amber candlelight danced over the lines in his face, especially the ones that lined his smile. I then took Christine's grandmother's plate to the sink, and I doubled back to Christine herself with the bottle of sparkling cider to find out if she wanted some more in her little glass cup.

“Unless you want a little burp-off in the next room,” she teased me.

“And it wouldn't be Hanukkah without some tomfoolery, either,” I added as I put the cork back into the mouth of the bottle.

“Tomfoolery, is that what you said?” her grandmother chuckled.

“Oh, yeah. My brother and I would always play and joke around right before dinner time or before we got the Hanukkah gelt on each night. We'd joke about each other's feet and whatnot. You know, typical brother stuff. Speaking of which, mind me intruding, but did you happen to get some chocolate while you were down in Carson City?”

“As a matter of fact, we did!” her grandfather proclaimed, and his face lit up at the sound of that. “And son, I promise you are not intruding. If you want something to eat, go ahead and get something to eat. You're a guest, but you're good company, though.”

I then offered to put away their groceries for them, especially the stuff that needed to go in the fridge and the freezer. While I was putting away a gallon of milk and some cream cheese, I caught a whiff of something at the corner of the bag, something pungent and sharp, and I had a hunch as to what it was as well.

“Phew, something in here stinks,” I told them.

“It's probably the cheese,” her grandmother said. “It's a wedge of blue cheese—once the power returns, I'll make us some cheese and bacon rolls. I will admit that it does in fact stink, but it's not—it's not that bad, though.”

“Bet it's not as bad as Alex's stinky feet, though, Grandma,” Christine cracked.

“Hey, my feet don't stink that bad!” I said, and I couldn't help but chuckle at that. It reminded me so much of my brother and me that I cursed myself for not calling him when I called my mom back at the airport.

Once I had put everything cold away, the bunch of us sat down at the table for a card game and a round of Monopoly before bed. It wasn't a gathering on the first night of Hanukkah where we were thankful to not have our throats slit over the course of the year, but at least I took it all to heart and I stayed snuggled down between Christine and her grandparents; her grandmother offered to give me a blanket given it was that cold in the kitchen, but I promised her I was feeling alright.

“I will take it to bed with me, though,” I assured her with a little smile. “I like cuddling down in bed, especially on a night like this.”

“And especially on a night when you're left up the creek without a paddle, either, I would assume,” she added.

“Oh, absolutely.”

I had completely lost track of time, but within time I was feeling ready for bed. I could hardly keep my eyes open once I had bought three houses and a hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue over to Christine for two thousand big ones.

“I can't hardly do math right now,” I confessed to her with a yawn.

“I can't, either,” she said. “But that's all you got, two thousand?”

“Yeah.”

“Ooh, yeah, it's almost midnight,” Wendy told us. “Let's pick up again in the morning, and hopefully the snow will have stopped by then.”

But it didn't sound like it was going to slow up any time soon, however: if anything, by the sound of the howling winds outside as well as the pelting of the snow on the roof and the side of the house, it sounded as though it had just begun. Nevertheless, Christine showed me the second guest bedroom, a cozy little room with one of those beds that tucked up against a wall and the corner like that of a couch with a small desk and a spindly little chair, the back of which I draped my coat over.

“No idea why there's no closet in here,” she confessed to me. “But sometimes when it's Mom and me, she likes to have this room so I can have the one with the closet.”

“Kind of makes you wonder why your grandfather won't put one in,” I told her as I rubbed my hands together and pried my shoes off without using my hands.

“I remember him talking about it once,” she said. “But that was one time, though, and it was quite a while ago. It was also said in passing, so I don't really remember if he really said it or if I was just dreaming it.”

“I've heard of things like that,” I told her. “Kind of makes you wonder why your brain won't latch onto the whole thing because you never know what might be important down the line.”

“I don't really know, to be honest,” she absently replied, complete with a shake of her head. “It's like... a feeling that I want to remember but I don't really know how to access it again.”

I cocked my head to the side at the sound of that. Strange that a teenage kid would say that, especially after I had been told I was precocious as a teenage boy not too long ago. But there was something else there, something that lingered over her, and it wasn't the shadow from the darkness of the room left behind from her upright flashlight: it wasn't a literal shadow that swept over the crown of her head, but something else. I gazed into her eyes, hidden away with darkness, and yet I could see something in there.

“What?” she asked me.

“Something still haunts you,” I pointed out, and I waved a hand before my chest. “I can feel it, plus it bothers you, too. There's something in your bones, and you're afraid to say it aloud.”

“Alex, it's traumatic,” she said to me. “I'm also afraid of fully talking about it right now when there's no electricity at the moment. You know... Mom can overhear me. Sound travels in this house like you wouldn't believe. You think you have a moment of privacy but the walls are paper thin regardless of what you do.”

I was taken aback by that. I wondered what exactly she harbored away inside of herself such that Wendy couldn't even hear about it. There had to be a way: I glanced behind me to the side of the bed closest to the face of the wall. I lay down on the bed behind her with my back to the wall so we could be face to face with each other. She glanced back at me: through the dim light, I could see the bewildered look upon her face.

“What're you doing?” she demanded in a hushed voice.

“Come here,” I coaxed her in a soft whisper, softened even more by the pillow under my head and neck. She raised an eyebrow at me, much to my own confusion. “You kissed me, rubbed up against my leg, and practically gave me a handjob, I think you can lay down with me. Close the door, too.”

Christine then reached over and shut the door most of the way save for a small crack between it and the edge of the frame itself. She lay down right next to me so I could see the shape of her body against the pale light of the halogen flashlight, but the back of her head faced me instead.

“Face me, though,” I insisted, and I couldn't help but chuckle at that. She rolled over onto her other side so her face was right up by mine. The sight of her there before me brought some butterflies to the stomach as a side dish. I licked my lips as she rested her hands right between us: I thought back to that one time where my ex and I had a moment alone together, and I had thought about asking her to bed because I could feel something in between the two of us. But we never did head off anywhere with that feeling, however.

She always left me unfulfilled and I had no one to blame for it other than myself. But Christine came along like a little spider and injected her venom into me to uncover those hoary old feelings again, and there I was, face to face with her.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay? Okay what?”

“Tell me,” I begged to her. “Tell me everything.”

She swallowed. “I don't think I'm ready to talk about it with a complete stranger, though,” she confessed.

“Like I said, you've touched my body,” I assured her. “You've touched my body in this time period in which I feel so—so—ugly and undesirable. You came onto me and flirted with me. You expressed yourself towards me. You have shown me that I can be a safe place for you. Now... take your time. There's no rush to tell me. Whatever it is, I think I can face it as you have faced it yourself.”

She lowered her gaze to my body, and through the darkness and the shadows, I could make out the little smile on her face.

“Okay,” she finally whispered.

“Okay?” I raised my eyebrows at her. A part of me wanted to reach out and touch her, but I also had my worries. She had already touched me, but I wondered about the power of my own hand upon her. Silence fell over us like a blanket, as did a deep chill from the immense snow and frigid winds outside. Her smile disappeared as she closed her eyes. She resembled one of those little porcelain dolls that opened their eyes once they were perched into an upright position, even with the short little mop of red hair upon her head.

She then opened her eyes and locked them onto my own.

“I almost died,” she whispered back to me, to which I raised my eyebrows at her.

“You almost died?” I echoed her. The silence over us seemed to be heavier than it was a moment before. “How and also... may I ask when?”

“Two years ago, actually,” she replied; and it made a lot more sense as to why she insisted on not saying it aloud, and I was glad that I had suggested being face to face with one another. “It was right before I dyed my hair. I like to tell myself that I nearly died so I dyed my hair to remind myself of that. I was out here in Reno with my grandparents, and I was riding my bike up the street and a tree branch came down all of a sudden.” I gasped at that. “It landed on me, but luckily I was wearing my helmet, otherwise I don't think I would be here right now. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital with a bandage on my head. Grandma told me she noticed I hadn't come home yet so she went out looking for me and she saw the neighbors helping me off the street. She got my grandpa and they drove to the hospital with them. I was out cold for two days. The nurse told me I was lucky to be alive because my heart actually stopped for a full five minutes. I was pronounced clinically dead for five minutes and then I came back.”

“Wow,” I breathed. “What was it like?”

“You know, it's funny, I remember seeing this big bright light,” she recalled. “A bright light plus my ex's voice. I remember him telling me to come back home. And that's what I did.”

“You came back home,” I said.

“I came back home. And I decided to rid of the old me and bring forth a bit of polish on my part.”

“Wow. That's—that's incredible.” I could scarcely speak at that. “That almost feels like a miracle of sorts.”

“It kind of was a miracle,” she followed along with a nod of her head. “Grandpa tells me that we're Vikings and being tough and tenacious is in our blood. It's even more interesting when I say that they took a scan of me and they found no brain injuries on my part. There was the worry that I could have a stroke at some point because of it, but... it hasn't happened to me. And moreover, they never told my parents, either. They didn't want them to worry about me because they have plenty to worry about as is.” She shrugged her shoulders. “A tree fell on me and I survived.”

“I am... stunned,” I confessed to her with a shake of my head. “I am absolutely stunned, Christine. So the tree just collapsed?”

“Pretty much. According to my grandpa, it was an old tree that had broken apart in a few windstorms that winter. I had seen the branch hanging pretty low over the sidewalk prior to then but I assured myself that it was still intact. I was riding past and the first part of it fell off, and the next thing I knew, the whole thing was coming down on me. I didn't have enough time to whip back, either. The whole thing pretty much just rained down on me.”

She sat up next to me, and she reached for the flashlight on the nightstand. She clicked it on as she shifted around on the edge of the bed; I sat up behind her to check it out for myself. She lifted up the tail of her hair and shone the light down to show me a little scar about the size of a pea pod on the back of her neck.

“Oh, yeah, I see that,” I remarked; I ran my fingers over the surface of her skin to better feel the scar tissue there. “And this is what's left behind from it?” I asked her.

“Yes, and—” She gazed back at me with the flashlight pointed up to the ceiling. “—I had compressed two vertebrae in there, but the doctors were worried that I had broken my neck as well as my spinal cord from it because... you know. A two thousand pound tree fell on me. So, they did an emergency surgery to reattach the vertebrae. The cord was fine, hence why I was able to survive it, but... still. It just about broke my neck.”

“And your mom hasn't even seen the scar?” To which she shook her head.

“Like I said, she doesn't know anything about it, and if I'm honest, I'm a little bit afraid to tell her as well,” she confessed to me in a low voice. I cocked my head to the side for a better look into her eyes, as dark as the earth underneath the snow pack out there.

“What?” she asked me. “What're you looking at?”

“What's your last name, by the way?” I asked her.

“Peck.” She paused. “Why?”

I directed my gaze over to the window on the other side of the room. Careful not to do anything to upset the bed and make the floor boards squeak underneath us, I climbed off the bed and ambled across the carpet for a look out through the curtains. Darkness stayed firmly ensconsed over the neighborhood, but that didn't so much as damper my curiosity. I turned my attention back to her and the flashlight that shone up onto the ceiling overhead.

“So, tell me—where did the tree fall on you?” I asked her.

“Just right up the street here.” She gestured out the window, and I knew I was going to have to take a look once the weather lifted up again. “We'll be able to see it once we have some light outside—it was this big, hundred year old cottonwood tree and they had to cut the rest of it down and burn it all because of me. It's just a little stump about the width of the chair over here.”

I returned my attention to the blackness out there, and I closed my eyes. I was not a man of prayer by any means at all, but hearing her story and realizing what she had gone through then, and I could only wonder what else she had experienced in the last two years. I was a little afraid to find out, and as far as I knew, I had all night as well as the morning hours to crack the proverbial code that surrounded her.

“Nes gadol hayah sham,” I said in a near whisper.

“Come again?” she asked me, and I turned to her, and I could hardly contain my excitement as well.

“A great miracle happened there,” I breathed out.

“A great miracle?”

“Yeah. Your last name does come out of Britain but it's also somewhat of a Jewish last name, like I've heard it in junction with the Jewish world every so often. During Hanukkah, you know, we have the dreidel. On each side, you have Hebrew letters, and they spell out an acronym for the phrase nes gadol hayah sham. Or, rather: 'a great miracle happened there.' It actually refers to the Maccabees and their story of survival, but—” I clasped my hands onto her shoulders. “A great miracle happened up the street here. You survived something that would have killed you. You found the way out of the light and back down onto the earth where you should be right now.”

“That's beautiful,” she quipped. “Beautiful and... a little crazy, I might add?” I chuckled at that, but I was being serious. I ran my fingers through my hair, and I sauntered my way back to the bed to join her once again.

“So, that's all there is to it?” I asked her.

“Oh, no, there's plenty more to my story,” she assured me as she stood up before me. “But... I don't really know if you have the stomach for it, though.”

“I do, I do,” I assured her, and I fetched up a yawn right then. Or maybe it would have to wait until the morning. I had lay down on the bed next to her, and now I was ready to go to sleep.

“Go to bed, baby,” she encouraged me.

“Go to bed, baby, is that what you said?” I asked her, and she leaned into the side of my neck for a kiss. I curled my toes into the carpet at the feeling of her smooth skin against my own, and I knew the best way to deal with it all was to go to bed. She gently patted the side of my face.

“When you and I find another moment alone, we'll have another little chat,” she vowed to me. “In the meantime, I have to go to bed now.”

Before I could give her a little kiss good night, she gave me another one and ducked out of the guest room with nothing more than the flashlight at the helm. She left the door slightly ajar so I could feel the rush of the cold from the hallway. No way I was going to sleep like that, however; I closed it all the way, and then I took off my shirt, followed by my pants. I put on my pajama bottoms and climbed back into that bed: I kept the flashlight on the nightstand all the while. Silence blanketed the house, silence except for the winds.

I thought about the camera in the other guest bedroom and I thought about all the jokes she had made towards me. All the little kisses. The way that she rubbed up against me while I wore leather pants.

She may have been seventeen but she tapped into me as if she had been so intimate with me all this time. I reached up and clicked off the flashlight so the room fell completely dark.

I couldn't help myself. I couldn't resist the feeling.

And I wrapped my fingers around it and gave it a little tug.

[sexykatsuki17]

Todoroki’s Revenge

Todoroki and Midoriya were up enjoying breakfast at Todoroki’s house Bakugo was there as well. Bakugo appeared more cranky than usual. Why? That’s because he is aching and sore. Bakugo made his way downstairs and he was shirtless.

Midoriya saw him Good morning Kacchan, Bakugo didn’t say anything he just got a bowl,  uhm Bakugo didn’t you hear Midoriya say anything? Todoroki asked and also put on a shirt.

OI, SHUT THE FUCK UP ICYHOT IM FUCKING SORE AND I DONT CARE!!!!! Bakugo yelled his stomach gurgling loudly instead Bakugo grabbed an apple going back upstairs. 

Todoroki rolled his eyes. I can't stand him then why did you invite him here? Midoriya asked my dad said he should rest after training yesterday so he brought him here Todoroki said. You really do hate him don’t you? Midoriya asked Hate him? No, he just gets on my nerves with all his damn yelling. Midoriya chuckled, I second that and they clicked glasses.

After breakfast Bakugo, Todoroki, and Midoriya went to school. Bakugo was incredibly sore that he just spent his day in recovery’s girl office. Kirishima Bakugo’s best friend was taking notes for him. Hey kirishima Todoroki and Midoriya said hey guys kirishima said bakubro isn’t feeling well so I’m taking notes for him kirishima said you do know he’s just sore right? Todoroki asked yeah I know but when you’re sore you don’t feel 100% kirishima said true Midoriya said.

Soon enough Bakugo walked through the door and he saw Kirishima and he walked over to him. Come with me you’re walking me back to the dorms Bakugo said why? Kirishima asked don’t question me Bakugo said Todoroki rolled his eyes at Bakugo.

He was thinking of a plan after school Todoroki, Midoriya and Bakugo had training with All Might and Endeavor. So at lunch time Todoroki is going to go to the store that’s near UA and get the most powerful laxative he could find. 

Bakugo was taking a warm shower for his aching muscles the part that was the most stiff on him was his back, once he finished he put on his underwear and his black bomb pants and he laid down on his stomach. Kirishima gave him a deep tissue back massage. Cracking his spine and unloosing those stiff aching muscles Bakugo moaned so what was Deku and Icyhot talking to you about? Bakugo asked, I’m sure what they wanted Kirishima said. ohh so sore Bakugo Groaned do you want me to stop? Kirishima asked did I say that? Bakugo asked no Kirishima said then shut the hell up and  keep on rubbing. Bakugo said Kirishima continued to rub his back.

Todoroki and Midoriya went to the sore and got the laxative. So what are you going to put it in? Midoriya asked as they walked into the dorms his water bottle in the fridge Todoroki said. Okay Midoriya said so Todoroki got Bakugo’s water bottle and he dumped half of the laxative into his drink and he stirred it up placing it back into the fridge. I also got him some prunes Todoroki said Midoriya smiled.

Soon after Kirishima came downstairs he was upset. Kirishima, what's wrong? Midoriya asked it’s Bakugo he’s so damn rude I can’t  take anymore kirishima said he’s always talking to me as if I’m dumb Kirishima said. Well you’re in lucky cause I’m pulling some revenge on him just like you I’m sick and tired of him Todoroki said. So what’s the plan? Kirishima asked.

Todoroki told him of his plans and Kirishima’s job was to keep him from entering the bathroom. Soon Bakugo came downstairs dressed in his school outfit. You idiots ready? Bakugo asked, grabbing his water bottle. He took a few sips here eat some prunes. Todoroki said why would I eat anything that you brought? Bakugo asked just as Bakugo’s stomach growled out of hunger. Tch, fine Bakugo took the bag form Todoroki he ate some as they waited for Endeavor and All Might. 

It was a small bag so Bakugo ate the whole thing and he drinked more of his water. Todoroki smiled what the hell are you smiling at? Bakugo asked oh nothing Todoroki said soon enough endeavor and All Might came to collect them. 

 While driving to the Agency Bakugo felt his lower stomach beginning to growl. You okay? Todoroki asked don’t worry about it Bakugo said his stomach continued to growl in an upset way. Bakugo bit his lower lip and gently rubbed his stomach. You okay? God dynamite? Endeavor asked Bakugo just looked out the window, shaking his leg as the growling in his lower stomach continued.

All Might, Midoriya, and Kirishima were talking and laughing. Soon Bakugo, Todoroki, and Endeavor walked into the building and soon All Might, Midoriya, and Kirishima walked into the building as well. The growling in Bakugo’s stomach got louder Ugh, Bakugo groaned Shut the hell and die Stupid Stomach why are so upset anyway? Bakugo asked but then he remembered. Wait a second Bakugo asked HEY YOU BASTARD YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH WHY MY STOMACH IS UPSET DIDN’T YOU!!!!! Bakugo yelled. Todoroki shook his head I don't know what you’re talking about YES THE FUCK YOU DO YOU BROUGHT THOSE PRUNES KNOWING WE HAD SOMETHING TO DO TODAY YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!!!! Bakugo yelled but then he started farting rather loudly YOUR FUCKING DEAD!!!!! Bakugo yelled. Running to the bathroom. Todoroki started laughing.

When Bakugo reached the bathroom he saw Kirishima standing in the way MOVE!!!!! Bakugo yelled sorry dude, someone is in the bathroom Kirishima said Bakugo’s stomach growled loudly. Bakugo loudly farted with each fart it came out watery Bakugo blushed running to the next one. Kirishima laughed.

Bakugo reached the next Bathroom he saw Midoriya standing there, MOVE YOU DAMN NERD!!!!! Bakugo yelled Sorry Kacchan someones is in the bathroom Midoriya said oh for fuck sakes Bakugo said he went to the next Bathroom MIdoriya laughed.

Bakugo went to every bathroom and each of them was locked. Bakugo’s stomach growled extremely loud Bakugo moaned Ugh Bakugo moaned he soon approached Endeavor and All Might. What’s wrong you should be getting Ready Endeavor said Bakugo placed a hand on his stomach as it growled. What’s the matter Young Bakugo? All Might asked I need to use the bathroom but they were all locked. Bakugo said What? Endeavor asked Bakugo pushed and out came a lot of Diarrhea. Bakugo blushed and he kept pooping himself.

Bakugo dropped to his knees and the diarrhea just kept coming out. Bakugo started crying out of embarrassment. Midoriya and kirishima watched from afar and they felt bad for Bakugo. Endeavor and All Might helped Bakugo.

After Bakugo’s little sick spell he was in his dorm room resting. Kirishima and Midoriya were helping Bakugo out all while Todoroki was in the hospital recovering from the beating he got from Bakugo during the training with Endeavor and All Might. Lesson learned  for Todoroki: never upset Bakugo’s stomach without a good reason. Kirishima and Midoriya learned that lesson as well because they were on board with Todoroki’s foolishness.

[flipchild]

It Is The Exclamation Mark In The Happiest Sentence I Have Ever Been Able To Write.

It Was Like A Moon, Part Of It Has Always Been Hidden.

Be Careful Whom You Push In. Some Of Us Do Not Come Back.

They Asked, What Is Loyalty? I Replied We Are Humans. Ask A Dog, It Knows Better.

If You Have Been Hurt Too Many Times, But You Still Smile, Trust Me You Are Damn Strong.

Be Savage, Not Average.

It’s A Mess Of Great Chaos, And It’s Visible In Your Eyes.

He Put You Through Hell, And You Called It Love.

Just A Bitch And A Blonde With An Unbreakable Bond.

I’m The Queen Of My Own Little World.

The Eyes Of A Girl Have Their Vocabulary.

Never Let Anyone Stain Your Shine.

Beauty Never Asks For Attention.

It Is Men Who Cannot Keep Secrets, We Can All See Who Ate The Apple!

Girls Are Intellectual Paintings, Even If You Do Not Understand Them, They Are Admired.

Her Attitude Kinda Savage But Her Heart Is Pure Gold.

Smile With Your Eyes.

You Are The Puzzle Piece To My Lego House. Basically, Useless.

If It Requires Smiling, I Probably Won’t Come.

Cinderella Never Asked For A Prince.

If You Cannot Handle The Thick Thighs, Hit The Gym.

Let’s Say Darwin Would Not Have Written About Evolution Had He Met You First.

Make Yourself A Priority.

Create Your Happiness.

Divas Don’t Do Drama. We Do Business.

Darling, Your Looks Can Kill.

I Never Forgive Or Forget, Always Watch Your Back.

Silence Speaks More Than A Thousand Words.

Beauty Never Asks For Attention.

I Must Destroy You With Hugs And Kisses!

There Is Great Beauty In Simplicity.

Smile, You’re Adorable.

There Is A Princess Within All Of Us.

Beautiful Nightmare.

Broken Crayons Keep Coloring.

You Are Not Fully Dressed Until You Shine.

Her Attitude Kinda Savage But Her Heart Is Pure Gold.

Be An Esteemed And Rare Diamond, Not A Stone Found Anywhere.

Beauty Is Power, A Smile Is Your Sword.

I Don’t Beg, I Fight For What Is Rightfully Mine

I Got Hot Sauce In My Bag Swag.

With Or Without You, Life Must Go On

I’m Just A Girl Looking For My Heart.

If You Can’t Be The First Be Different!

Wasn’t It Beautiful When You Believed In Everything?

I Am Proud Of The Woman I Am Today Because I Went Through One Hell Of A Time Becoming Her.

Don’t Be Ashamed Of You. It’s Your Parent’s Job.

They Told Me I Couldn’t. That’s Why I Did.

Not Everyone Likes It, But Not Everyone Counts.

You Cannot Do Amazing Things With Basic People

Beauty Is Power; A Smile Is Its Sword.

I Am At A Whole New Level In Life

My Makeup Is Too Expensive To Cry Over A Man

Stop Looking For Happiness In The Same Place Where You Just Lost It.

We Found Wonderland – You And I Got Lost In It.

We Could Be A Story In The Morning, But We’ll Be A Legend Tonight.

My Personality Is Sassy And Cheeky.

50% Savage, 50% Sweetheart.

It Is Wastage Of Time To Cry Over Guys Like You.

She Has A Savage Attitude But A Pure Heart.

I See Your Jealousy.

Proof That I Can Take The Best Selfies Than You.

If You Leave Without Reason, Don’t Come Back With An Excuse.

It Is Not A Must For Everyone To Like Me As Not Everyone Is Important In My Life.

Every Path Has Obstacles, But It Is Up To You To Continue To Smile And Walk That Path.

Too Occupied To Be Stressed With Very Small Things Like These.

There Is Nothing Like We, And Never Will It Be.

Beauty Within Emits Positive Waves.

Some People Are Not Your Friends; They Are Just Too Scared To Be Your Enemy.

My Mom Says I’m A Fighter, A Fierce Competitor, And I Think I Am, Too.

I Know I’m A Handful, But That’s Why You Got Two Hands.

Be A Mermaid In See Full Of Fishes.

Cute Smile Is A Girl’s Secret Weapon.

I’m Kinda A Beachy Girl.

Lady With Class Never Goes Out Of Style.

Well Dress Women Is A Beauty Spot.

No, I Checked My Receipt. I Didn’t Buy Any Of Your Bullshit.

I Swear I’m A Nice Girl Until You Do Something That Pisses Me Off. Then The Bitch Will Come Out To Play.

I Am Unable To Understand The Language You Are Speaking Because It Sounds Like Bulls*it.

I Won’t Cry For You, My Mascara Is Too Expensive.

Don’t Try Hard As The Feelings Are Already Gone.

If You Fear Being Hurt, Don’t Stand Close To The Heart. It Will Melt.

I Don’t Regret And Neither Am I Sorry.

She, Who Dares……….wins.

My Hair Is Silky And My Smile Is Milky.

My Beauty Flaunts In Front Of Haters.

I Am A Warrior, I Am Not Afraid To Defect.

Just Because I Started The Conversation, It Doesn’t Mean, Am Dying To Talk To You.

I Don’t Have To Prove Shit To You.

Shine In Your Own Light.

Girls Beauty Is Hidden In The Way She Makes Her Hair.

Be Who And What You Want, Period.

Once You Destroy My Trust It Will Never Be The Same.

Behind Every Successful Woman Is Herself.

You The Best I Ever Had.

There Was A Time When I Was Mad For You And Now There Is A Time, I’m Not Even Sad For You.

Ones Is A While, We Girls Blow Your Mind.

It’s You Vs You, Make Sure You Win.

[afterthegreatunknown]

Randomity: Oranges and Apples

“Fernald, you’re my brother, and know that I love you,” says Fiona. “But can you please explain to me why you’re in my room with a plate of orange slices?”

Fernald looks up from the orange slices, and smiles at her. “Remember how I thought yesterday I made a giant asshole of myself? Well, as it turns out, Stepfather was upset at my sudden leaving of the table due to thinking he mess up speaking his first language.”

Fiona pushes up the bridge of her glasses. “Good to know that you’re both on the same wavelength, but did you really need to bring a plate of orange slices in my room to tell me this?”

“I figure you would want a light snack.” Fernald stands up, carefully taking the plate of orange slices with her. “Stepfather cut them up for me.”

Fiona looks at the oranges, and take a slice. She pops it into her mouth, and chews, not caring about proper eating manners at the moment. “I thought the Quagmires ate the last few oranges. Did Hector bought more without telling us?”

“Nope. Stepfather was the one who got them,” says Fernald, the smile still on his face.

“Huh. That’s odd. I didn’t hear the garage door opening.” Fiona grabs another slice, before taking the entire plate for herself. “Where did Stepfather get these oranges then?”

“Oh, Stepfather took the broom from the closet and knocked out some oranges from the orange tree several blocks down.” Fernald still smiles as he says it so casually.

“The orange tree several block down?” Fiona looks down at the plate of orange slices, and then back up at Fernald. “And you didn’t stop him?”

“And get hit with a broom?” Fernald wags a hook. “No thanks! Besides, what are you worry about? That house been absent since we moved into the neighborhood!”

---

“Okay, let’s do this one more time. Spanish word for ‘orange’. Na.”

“Ran.”

“Ran.”

“Ja.”

“Ja.”

“Naranja.”

“Naranna.”

“Come on, Quigley!” Duncan throws his hands up in the air, before grabbing clumps of his hair. He doesn’t pull though, for he knows better. “Are you doing this to spite me now!?”

“Duncan, if I were trying to spite you, I would be doing a whole lot worse.” Quigley gives a sigh, and leans back on the chair. “You know, maybe we should do another word in the chapter.”

“A sound idea, Quigley. We both need a break from oranges.” Duncan looks at the page, reading through the list before snapping his fingers. “Oh! This word is a good one! It helps that the Widdershins Family went on their little outing awhile back!”

Duncan looks at the countertop, and rummages through the plastic bag until he found the biggest, reddest, apple either of them saw in their lives. Duncan throws it into the air, and catches it. He then places it in front of Quigley.

“Let’s start it off slowly,” says Duncan. “Spanish word for ‘apple’. Ma.”

“Ma.”

“Nza.”

“Nza.”

“Na.”

“Na.”

“Now together.” Duncan quickly clears his throat. “Manzana.”

“Manzana.” Quigley claps his hands, and smiles. “Hey! I said it! Manzana!”

“Manzana!” Duncan fist pumps into the air. “Manzana!”

“Manzana!”

“Manzana!”

“Manzana!”

“Manzana!”

“Manzana!”

“Manzana!”

Duncan and Quigley continue to shout ‘manzana’ to each other, parroting one another with glee. In their parroting, they fail to realize Isadora has reenter the kitchen for a glass of milk. Isadora glances at them in silence, before turning on her heels to leave.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope!” Isadora shakes her head as she walks through the family room, and then the living room. “No way will I deal with Tweedledee and Tweedledum’s little routine. No way am I going to go intervene.”

[gyarubloodbath]

BUTCHER

character: denji, makima tags:+18, cannibalism, violence synopsis: denji is preparing miss makima for dinner. art by @KRK_1010 on X all edits are mine

the oil in the pan sizzles, splashes on the skin of the guy's hands, piercing with needles while he squints his eyes, — swears, — turns over the burnt meat with a wooden spatula. the room has been stuffy for an hour now, — it makes you sweat, breathing carbon dioxide, compresses, squeezes out all the moisture, dehydrates, — settles on the windows with sticky touches when the snow is crying outside. the smell turns your head, hugs your nose, tickles your nostrils and brains. (the dog broke loose with foam at the mouth.) drool stupidly flows down from his chin and drips onto the old-fashioned carpet.

ᅠ naked and funny, the woman is lying right on his kitchen table. denji cleaned it in a "mutton" way. painfully tied the ankles of the legs with a rope with thick villi and hooked it on a hook, before that he slashed well with a large and sharp knife from the adam's apple, dissecting the arteries, to the red pubis. the same red picture appeared in front of him, ingrained in his eyes, — spraying a powerful stream of blood directly into the cornea, a dark soothing mist enveloping the entire room. the skin revealed the whole world. blood dripped onto the unnecessary rags hastily and hastily spread out under the hanging corpse, completely absorbed into them, falling out from under them in a harmless puddle. at the same time, denji looks at her. the woman's head, with that habitually cloying scythe, rested on the countertop, in a deep plate. a peaceful face hides something. the feeling that she will abruptly open her spiral eyes, smile as usual, wave her hands, whisper something and he will unconditionally obey her whims. for example, it will untie you. but that's not going to happen. it will never happen again.

makima.

with a small knife, denji cut out the woman's internal organs, throwing them into a black bag. he hadn't figured out what he was going to do with them yet, and he didn't really want to think about it. the young brain has read everything, seen and tried a lot. he beats his wrists against his ribs. there is a cacophony of smell in the room: fresh dead meat, nauseating blood and shit that the guy is cleaning out of the rectum right now. he grimaces, resists, and almost vomits. there is a sticky lump in my throat of everything that denji ate today. the fingers are poorly protected by toilet paper, which has already absorbed all the female "juices". no matter how hard he tried, his fingers were still smeared with feces, his hands themselves were up to the elbows in blood, his face was in this disgusting mess of blood, sweat, feces, phosphorus, urine and fat. already accustomed to its taste, smell and appearance, denji does not notice how he inhales its drops with his nose, licks them from his lips. but when blood flows into the nasopharynx, it seems to him that the pressure has risen.

a neat process — is skin removal. with the same knife, he, like a jeweler, grabs the thickest layer of it with the blade. coming into contact with metal, the dermis flies off with a bang into the same bag with organs. he is patient, his work is painstaking and he will be rewarded to match satan's ball.

the scream reverberates through the room when the bird crashes into the window. a little bird's blood, feces and bugs are smeared on the glass, which, in all probability, she carried in her beak or paws. the tense, ephemeral silence immediately resumed, as soon as the feathered bird shook itself off and rushed from the windowsill to the concrete with a black wing. it looks like there's new concrete. by this time, denji had managed to put the meat madness on the floor (previously covered with an unnecessary tablecloth), splashing a basin of blood on the floor. a new cry and a new, mixed mate hissed and flew out like a bird in a window: «b-b-bick...»

and, before proceeding to the complete butchering of the carcass, denji turns the severed head to face himself, soiling the back of his head, hair and bridge of his nose with her blood and everything accompanying it. the neck flies off into the cellophane. «can cook soup from her or fry cutlets…» the guy is now wielding an axe, swinging at the joints of his shins and arms. turning her belly down, the chainsaw man passes over the woman's back, at the level of the sacral spine, dividing the carcass into front and back halves.

we have come to what we started with.

the atmosphere changed dramatically after the massacre. the guy has already put the chopped, well-fried parts of his beloved woman on a plate. the torso remained, covered with oil, special spices, vigorous in both colors and taste, stuck (from the beginning of the anus to the base of the neck) directly on a bare pin. he will still play with it, decide what is better to cook: shish kebab or leave it as it is, or maybe pickle it. the rest of her body continues to roast, boil, and steam… makima's head is peacefully lying directly opposite. previously tenacious, warm and incredible. he tastes the meat clean, without any kneading, sauces, side dishes and vegetables…

delicious.