#curvy heroines

[sarah-maclean-completist]

[anazen333]

No healing for this curvy girl in Bridgerton season 3 (slight spoilers)

I was so looking forward to this season and seeing a woman with curves get honest to goodness romantic sex scenes.

For so long the sex scenes with curvy girls in film have been shown with a tone of humor or disgust or pity.

And Bridgerton season 3 was supposed to change all of that. Except it didn’t. Not for me, anyway.

Because while other Bridgerton heroines have been stripped clean of their clothes, with their entire body on full display, Penelope was not.

In all her scenes she was never completely undressed save for one brief moment that isn’t even shown fully. We get one quick glimpse of her glorious bosom and then she delegated to being covered up with a blanket. Colin goes so far as to pull the blanket to cover her up more at one point!

We don’t get to see her beautiful curves. They’re continuously hidden like it’s a shameful thing to show a woman whose waist isn’t small, with a stomach that jiggles, thighs that don’t fit neatly in a man’s hands, and breasts that aren’t small and perky.

What I got out of Bridgerton season 3 is that yes, you curvy girls can have a love interest who isn’t also plus size, but only because he thinks you’re interesting, not because you’re beautiful. And yes, being interesting is going to last longer than beauty, but is it too much to ask to be both?

It seems even today on a super progressive show, the answer is still “yes”.

[cyborg-lucariosart]

It's River

Before Floatzel day ends, here's River proclaiming to be number 3, since she believes that she's stronger than Sayuri and Cyborg-Lucario (she's still finds them cool though).

[myplussizebookshelf]

Did anyone read The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever or/and Ten Things I Love About You by Julia Quinn?

[seriallover]

Why certain people capture the spotlight?⭐️

1. The luminaries, the Sun and Moon naturally draw attention in a birth chart. People with strong Sun or Moon placements tend to light up any room they enter, effortlessly standing out.

Just like everyone loves capturing the beauty of a sunrise or the glow of a full moon, those with these placements have a magnetic energy that people can’t help but notice.

It’s almost like they’re always in the spotlight, which is why they often feel the need to look their best.☀️🌕

Beyoncé, Purva Phalguni Sun, Chitra Lagna and Venus.

Michael Jackson, Magha Sun and Shatabhisha Lagna.

Bella Hadid, Purva Phalguni Moon and Lagna.

There's not much to say about Beyoncé and Michael that isn't already well-known—they're icons in their own right, the biggest stars of our time. Bella Hadid has become the most photographed model off-duty and in 2022, she was named Model of the Year.

Gia Carangi, often hailed as the first true supermodel, paved the way for all the other supermodels that followed. She had a Shravana Sun and Lagnesh, with Hasta as her Lagna and a Shatabhisha Moon.

Britney Spears, Shravana Moon, was one of the most photographed stars for a while. The crazy amount of media attention even led to harassment and really affected her mental health.

Gisele Bündchen, Pushya Sun and Purva Phalguni Lagna, the only "Ubermodel"-that means being more than a supermodel.

Lauren Hutton, Pushya Moon and Lagna, holds the record for the most Vogue covers—26 in total.

I previously explored about how lunar-dominant people often achieve significant success on social media.

2. Chitra Nakshatra, known as the "Star of Opportunity," carries the Shakti of "accumulating merit." The word "Chitra" translates to "wonderful" and "pleasing to look at," as well as "illusion."

The deity of this nakshatra is Tvastar, the celestial architect who designed the universe. The symbol of Chitra is the "pearl" or "bright jewel," symbolizing beauty and uniqueness.💎💍

"Chitra" also means "picture," so individuals with this nakshatra are often naturally photogenic. 📸Tvastar, as the creator of Maya (illusion), grants those under Chitra the ability to craft captivating personas, making them talented models, photographers, actors, and successful on social media.

Kim Kardashian, Chitra Sun, built a career centered on her image. As one of the first influencers, she's become one of the most prominent and influential figures on social media. In 2015, she released “Selfish”, a book featuring a collection of her selfies.

Cindy Kimberly, Chitra Moon and Shravana Lagna, shot to fame because of her striking beauty. Her big break came when Justin Bieber posted about her on his Instagram. Now, she’s a major beauty influencer and a well-known model.

Anna Nicole Smith, Chitra Sun and Hasta Moon, made a name for herself as a model, completely based on her image. She was once one of the most photographed women in the world, and photographers loved working with her, often saying she was one of the easiest and most exciting people to capture on camera.

The thing with Chitra individuals is that, because of Tvastar, the celestial craftsman, their features often become iconic. For instance, Kim drew the attention to the BBL, Cindy’s nose has become a major inspiration for many women, and Anna Nicole brought attention back to curvy bodies at a time when the "heroin chic" look was in vogue, reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe's era.

3. Dhanishtha🌟 Shakti is "power to give abundance and fame," meaning "the most famous," "the most heard of." This nakshatra is recurring in the charts of people who usually marry famous individuals, making them well-known as well, often attracting more attention than their partner.

Princess Diana, Dhanishtha Moon and Magha Lagnesh, was the most photographed woman in the world, holding the record for the most sold-out paparazzi pictures, including one that sold for 6 million dollars.

Marilyn Monroe, Rohini Sun, Dhanishtha Moon, and Ashlesha Lagna, was also one of the most photographed women of her time.

4. Shatabhisha, meaning "hundred stars" and represented by a veiled star and an empty circle, is a nakshatra ruled by Rahu. ⭕️

This nakshatra is associated with illusion, the power to effect radical change, innovation, the foreign, esoteric influences, and trends. The empty circle can also symbolize the idea of a cult or community, like the Navy for Rihanna.

Rihanna, Shatabhisha Sun, stands out as one of the most influential artists and fashion icons. She has consistently set trends in the fashion world, with her style serving as an inspiration to many. Recently, her maternity looks have redefined how celebrities approach their appearance during pregnancy, bringing a stylish twist to the norm.

Demi Moore, Lagnesh in Shravana and Jupiter in Shatabhisha in the first house, set a trend for nude pregnancy photoshoots. At the time, this was quite controversial, but it has since become a common practice not just among celebrities, but also for non-celebrity women.

Elizabeth Taylor, Sun in Shatabhisha, was also a major target for paparazzi. George Hamilton once remarked:

"I remember when the word 'paparazzi' came along, and it just meant a bunch of guys who were all photographers looking for Elizabeth Taylor. Desperately looking for Elizabeth Taylor! And that was the beginning of paparazzi. They were not going for glamour anymore. They were going for the destruction of glamour."

[tumble-witch]

TW light suggestion of body horror. No descriptions though!

Creatomachia

Bunnix shows up in Marinette's bedroom when it's already dark outside.

Marinette knows what the older heroine is about to ask the second she hears the burrow open. When Bunnix greets her, Marinette is hyperventilating. Instead of exchanging pleasantries, she asks:

- Is it... him again?

Bunnix has a grim expression on her face, yet shakes her head. Marinette exhales. She has another question.

- Is it something I did?

- No. I'm sorry I'm asking this from you again. I'm sorry there will be no answers yet.

- It's okay. I am ready.

At first Ladybug thinks she is on another planet. Another dimension, even. There are cloud fractals in the sky. There is a street light growing out of another one, growing out of another one, growing out of another one... Trees are huge and have so many leaves they are almost a solid green mass. Some buildings are so tall they go way past the clouds in a curvy line. It reminds her of the Jack and the Beanstalk fairytale her mom used to read her before bed.

The roads branch out like blood vessels, getting smaller with each separation, ending in dead ends near the buildings or growing vertically on top of the walls.

The whole city almost looks like it could move at any second. It almost looks alive.

As Ladybug progresses through the streets (if she can even call them that), she finally realizes where the people are.

At least, what's left of them.

Infinite growth apparently works on humans, too. She never thought she'd be so thankful to see somebody not move.

The silence makes her ears ring. Everything is quiet, except for some mechanical sounds the structures make, not really meant to support their own weight in this new form.

Then, she hears laughter.

A girl with hair so long she's not sure where it ends is frantically pacing around the roof, her body movements jittery and odd. As the camera of the heroine's yo-yo focuses on the akuma, helping seek out where the cursed butterfly is hiding, Ladybug realizes the dress this girl is wearing is not grey.

It's is covered in trillions of colourful tiny dots of different shapes and sizes. They seem jittery too, as if trying to move, but some force is making them stay together. This feels like standing up after lying down for too long. Looking at the pattern for too long makes her head hurt

Ladybug continues hiding. She takes her time looking for clues. At this point she's not really sure if the girl is actually laughing or this is a weird hysterical cry. Sometimes the akuma starts muttering under her nose, too quiet to make out most of the words. Ladybug is pretty sure she heard the girl say "I can fix this" a few times though. She shifts to hear the words better.

The akuma turns around

This is the hardest she's ever fought. Chat Blanc feels like child's play now.

While the villain almost looks out of breath, long hair going everywhere, Ladybug is still barely able to keep up.

The air is too dense with oxygen.

The girl has a yo-yo as a weapon, in a cruel twist of irony. And she's damn good with it. Yet, she clearly hesitates in using the thing, saving it as a last resort to escape.

Ladybug tries to reason with the akumatized victim.

- Wait! Please, let me help you!

- You don't understand, - the girl looks around frantically, - I have to fix this! I need to fix this!

Villain's grey yo-yo starts to glow white and she throws it at a fire hydrant, making it grow another one on top.

The akuma was inside the earring. Ladybug was hit by the yo-yo. She doesn't have the time to think as she casts Miraculous cure, just before her brain registered the pain fully.

She'll remember the way it looked when she closes her eyes though.

The streets go back to normal. Her body is normal. Ladybug turns around and meets the eyes of

herself

Marinette sits on the ground, horrified. But before Ladybug can talk to her Bunnix appears and she has to go.

Bunnix doesn't say anything as they walk through the burrow, but she's pretty sure the older heroine is holding her shoulder softer than ever before.

They didn't change anything. They didn't fix anything after they came back, no scoldings, no erasing her name from anywhere, nothing. Marinette is growing more paranoid at every turn, expecting to get akumatized. Her conflict avoidance is at all times high. She's withdrawing from her friends.

Nobody is near when Hawkmoth himself shows up in the middle of the night and she has to transform. He senses her distress immediately.

This is just too easy.

The butterfly lands in her earring just as she started to call for a last effort Lucky Charm.

"Creatomachia, this is Hawkmoth. You are overwhelmed with every problem creating a million smaller ones. Things seem to stack on top of each other and just never end. I'll give you the power to fix everything. In return, you will give me your and Chat Noir's miraculous."

For a split second, everything is white.

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Summary: Modern Eddie + reader are early 30s. Eddie is the famous lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin, who has gotten himself into legal trouble due to his antics and drug use. Eddie broke your heart many years ago and he receives a letter from you asking to meet to talk about what happened between you two so long ago. Secrets are talked about, mental walls are built and broken down. Most of this series will be in Eddie's POV. (I will also be putting song inspirations on each part 🤍)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: There will be a LOT of mentions of heavy drug use in this series. This series DOES NOT glorify the use of drugs. It is not cool, it is not fun, it is something that destroys people and everyone around them. I have loved and lost people I know to drug and alcohol use, a lot of what you read here is my own personal experience from what I have seen with my own eyes. I hope this series will spread awareness and will give anyone and everyone who reads this hope. If you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction, please know you are not alone, there is help out there.

The silence is almost deafening as I sit there in my dimly lit office, tapping my finger against the arm of the chair; the metal of my ring clinking as I stare at my therapist, Dr. Catherine Ryan, in front of me. She had a kind smile, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk today. 

“What’s bothering you?” She asks gently. 

I gaze at her, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. A stupid habit I formed when I stopped using six months ago. 

Let’s see, I’m tired of the noise inside my head that is constantly reminding me what a piece of shit I am. I’m lucky that my bandmates don’t hate my guts for the shit I put them through on tour when I was needle deep in a heroin fog and couldn’t remember the lyrics to a fucking song I wrote. My music career is only surviving because the world thinks we’re on a hiatus to write our next album when I actually did a stint in rehab and have court ordered mandatory therapy once a week. The only way I can have therapy is if she comes to my escape cabin in upstate New York and escorted in and out by a security guard. 

Oh, I also can’t stop thinking of you, the one whose heart I broke fifteen years ago back in Hawkins, Indiana because I was too scared to love or be loved. The same you who mailed me a letter that I received at my P.O. Box in Boston three days ago, that I haven’t opened yet and sits in my back pocket folded up, because I’m too much of a pussy to see what you have to say.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I tell her, taking a cigarette out of my pocket. I let the smoke fill my lungs and exhale the smoke away from her. 

“What do you want to talk about?” She asks, crossing her legs. I stare at her long legs, and my eyes scan up her body. She was curvy and thick, with a perfect set of tits and stunning green eyes. I almost laugh, if a beautiful woman like her was in my house six months ago, it wouldn’t take long before I’d have her bent over the back of my couch, fucking her until she couldn’t take it anymore. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, or whatever the fuck the saying is. 

“Eddie, this is mandatory therapy. I can’t help you if you’re not willing to talk. We’ve had four sessions so far, and the only thing we have talked about is your drug habit.” She seemed annoyed, and I couldn’t blame her.

“I’m only here because of my drug habit.” 

“Is that all?” 

She was testing me, and I smile at her, leaning my elbows against my knees. “You know, I bet you are really good at helping people and are able to get your patients to sit here and cry about their shitty lives or whatever it is people tell you. But I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get it from me.” 

“You keep up a guard. Defense mechanism, it’s common in people who have been hurt before.” She says, scribbling a note down. 

I narrow my eyes. “I sense judgment in your tone, and I’m not sure I care for it.” 

“It’s not judgement, Eddie. It’s an observation. I’m observing you.” 

I sit back against my chair and scoff, lighting up another cigarette with the ember of the one I just had. I inhale deeply. “I think our session should be cut early today.” 

She closes her notebook and gives you a kind smile. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I do.” I tell her. 

I get up from my seat as she stands, walking her to the door where the security guard waited outside. I may be an asshole, but I know how to be a gentleman. Chivalry isn’t dead when your name is Eddie Munson. She nods at me as she leaves, handing me her card for the time of the next session for next week and I close the door behind her. I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray and let out a deep sigh. I plop myself on the couch, hearing the crinkle of the letter in my back pocket and I lift my hips to pull it out. I look at the neat print on the front; seeing your handwriting brought back so many memories that I had forgotten about. 

Why would you send me a letter? Is it just to tell me how happy you’ve been these last fifteen years since I’ve been gone, that you’re married with children, thriving in your thirties? 

“Well, the only way to know is if you open the letter, dipshit.” I mutter to myself. I groan, shaking my head as I rip the letter open and unfold it. It was only two pages, but you had written a lot. 

 Hey, You’re a tough guy to find, being famous and all. I didn’t think this P.O. Box was real at first, but I ended up tracking down Gareth and he told me it was real. I can’t believe he still has the phone number he’s had since high school.  I don’t know why I’m writing you a letter, I guess I could’ve just texted you, he did give me your number, but I wanted this to feel more personal. Like when I’d write you those stupid folded notes in class.  I know it’s been a long time, and you’re probably thinking I’m absolutely insane, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. There are so many things that I wanna say to you. There are so many things that were left unsaid, and I guess lately it’s been bothering me. You’re probably not even going to get this, so I don’t even know why I’m continuing to write.  I don’t want you to think that I hated you or have hated you this whole time. It would be easier to hate you, believe me, I’ve tried but I physically cannot have that kind of power over me. I’m proud of you, Eddie. You worked so hard to get to where you are, and you made your dreams come true. I knew you could.  I want to tell you I’m proud of you in person; to let you know that what happened in the past stays there and we can both move forward in a way. I mean, I just told you now. I know you’re really busy and I feel stupid now. But I will be in Boston in December, the week of the 18th while my aunt is down in Florida for the week, house sitting. Gareth had mentioned you and the band were taking a hiatus to focus on the writing and doing some self reflecting. I would love to see you, especially with the holiday season. 

It’s not every day you get to see the boy you’ve known since diapers be on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, selling out stadiums. 

Please don’t feel obligated, though. 

I suddenly forgot how to swallow, and I almost choke on my own saliva. You had written your phone number on the bottom of the last page. I swing my legs onto the floor, taking my phone off the coffee table. I scroll to my contact list, and add your name, along with your phone number. 

I pause, my hands begin to shake, and I inhale deeply. 

“No no no, not now, not now.” Grimacing, I sit back on couch, closing my eyes as my stomach turns to knots and my chest feels like it was going to explode. I can feel the sweat bead at the back of my neck as the panic attack feels like it’s choking me out and I groan. I go into the drawer of the coffee table, pulling out the lorazepam pill bottle, taking a minute to open the cap because my hands were so sweaty. I throw the pill in my mouth, swallowing it dry and breathe in through my nose. 

This happens more often now, especially since being off dope, I had to learn how to deal with them like a normal thirty-four-year-old man. It took a lot of convincing for my doctors to give me the lorazepam, but apparently threatening to go and take a hot shot of heroin to kill myself was convincing enough for them to give me the lowest dose of the stupid pill. 

I close my eyes. Thinking back to how I got here; how I could’ve lost everything because of my own stupidity, because of my inability to slow down, because I took sex, drugs, rock and roll too literally. All because I refuse to let love into my soul and hold on tight. 

One year earlier

The dressing room walls echo with the moans of myself and...I don’t even remember her name. Sarah? Shelly? It doesn’t even matter. I only see the back of her head anyway; she was very blonde. I hold onto her hips tightly, slamming my cock in and out of her. She was screaming like a porn star, and I’m pretty sure she was putting on a show. 

“Oooooh, just like that baby. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh goddd, you’re so fucking good.” She moans and I roll my eyes, slamming into her harder just to get her to shut up. I reach over to the coffee table to grab my tiny vile of cocaine, I pop open the cap, and pull out of her for a moment. She was still rolling her hips as I sprinkle the drugs onto her ass.

“Stop fucking moving.” I tell her, grabbing the plastic straw and snorting back the drugs into my airways. She moans again when she hears me snort another line off her, and I slam myself back into her. My head falls back in pleasure, the effects of the cocaine causing every single part of my body to pulsate, and I can feel my orgasm approaching. 

“Fuuuuck.” I moan, my rhythm getting sloppy, and she groans. 

“Cum inside me baby, cum inside me.” She moans and I immediately feel myself go soft. Fuck this. I stop moving and slide myself out of her, she turns to look at me, her mouth opened in a gasp. “Why did you stop?”

I take a cigarette out of my pack and light it. “Get out.” 

“What?” She snaps. 

“Get your shit and get the fuck out of my dressing room. Telling me to cum inside you, I know what you’re doing.” I take her dress off the floor and throw it at her. Her eyes narrow and she gets up from the couch, throwing the dress over her head. 

“You weren’t even that good, fucking junkie!” She yells at me, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lungs. She looked like a cartoon character. Her eyes wild, her hair a wild mess, her fake tits bouncing as she storms out of the room. I lean back on the couch, a little mad that I didn’t cum, but whatever, that’s what my hand is for. I don’t know why I invite these women back to my dressing room after every show. Most of the time, these women don’t even know the words to our songs, they just want to be able to tell their friends they fucked a rockstar.  I sigh, opening the vile and do another bump. I’m one hundred percent in love with heroin, but I’m an addict. Cocaine just takes the edge off when I need it to. I tie my hair back in a low bun, blowing my bangs out of my face. I stand, catching a glimpse of myself in the fluorescent lit vanity mirror. The lighting made me look terrible; I was thinner than normal. The ram skull tattoo across my abdomen looked discolored, but I know it was just the way the light was hitting it. I was losing muscle mass in both of my arms, but since tattoo sleeves covered both my arms, no one could notice. No one knew how bad it was getting with the dope; I honestly preferred to suffer in silence about it, but I knew they noticed. I would feel Gareth’s eyes burn into the back of my skull whenever I would escape to go into a bathroom, or immediately go into my hotel room to get started on my new supply. I felt terrible keeping it from him, he was my brother, my bandmate, but he didn’t need to worry. I was fine, at least that’s what I told myself. 

We had awhile before we hit the next city of the tour. The tour bus felt too crowded, too stuffy. We all decided it would make sense to hide out in a hotel for a few days before we got to Atlanta.  I requested my own room of course, the supply I just bought felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. Isn’t that what they say about money? 

Money meant nothing to me; if I lost it all tomorrow, I wouldn’t care. That’s the beauty of this drug, you don’t have a care in the world once that shot courses through your veins. 

I lock the door to my room after saying goodnight and head into the bathroom. I pull my shirt over my head and undo the belt from my jeans. I set everything up on the table: fresh needle, the drugs, and water bottle cap.  It doesn’t take long for me to pull the dope into the syringe, at this point it’s like riding a bike for me. I sit on the floor against the bathtub, I wrap the belt around my left arm, pulling it tight with my teeth and clench my fist. I see the most perfect vein pop up in the bend of my arm; I have to be careful though, I can’t go to the same spot twice or else I’ll blow up my veins and then more people will notice.  I’ve always hated needles, isn’t that ironic? I’m thinking that as the tip of it pinches my skin and my thumb is on the trigger, slowly pushing it down.

“A spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down…” I sing softly, feeling the sweet burn of the heroin flow like a tsunami in my veins. My eyes flutter close as the most beautiful feeling overcomes me; my head lulls back against the porcelain and I feel a smile grace my lips. 

A loud knock at my door startles me out of my high, and I’m pissed. 

“Hang on a second.” I mutter and awkwardly pull myself up, undoing the belt from my arm. I place the cap on the needle and toss it behind the doors under the sink. 

Knock knock knock knock knock

I toss my sweatshirt over my head, putting a cigarette to my lips. “Yeah, I hear you! Fuck, I’m coming.” 

I open the door to find Gareth standing there with his arms crossed, I light the cigarette and wave my hand, tilting my head at him. “Yeah?” 

“What are you doing?” He asks me. 

“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m not doing anything.” I inhale on the cigarette, and he continues to stare at me. If there was a God, I thank him for giving me brown eyes, because at least he wouldn’t be able to see how my pupils look like pinholes. “Do you wanna come in?” 

I move to the side, and he walks by me, I shut the door, locking it. 

“Do you want a beer or anything?” I ask him, going into the mini fridge, pulling out two, I could feel myself about to nod, but I quickly stand up, clearing my throat so I can at least look like I’m not fucked up. 

“No, I’m fine.” His eyes scan every inch of my room, the floor where my clothes were, Sweetheart laying on the foot of my bed. My necklace I always wore with the red guitar pick laid on the nightstand by the bed. I always take it off before I shoot up, I don’t know why, I think something is going to happen to it if I don’t, it means a lot to me. His eyes fix on my belt on the bathroom floor, he doesn’t say anything, but I know what he’s thinking. 

“Gareth, if you got something to say, man, just say it.” I tell him, leaning against the small table, I ash my cigarette into a coca cola can. 

He turns to me; he was still blessed with a baby face that I remember from school. “How bad is it getting?” He almost whispers.

“How bad is what getting?” 

“The drugs, man. Come on dude, I know you’re not stupid.” He sits across from me on the foot of the bed, gently moving Sweetheart over. 

I sigh. “Gareth, I’m fine. It’s not getting bad.”

He puts his head down, shaking his head. “Don’t fucking bull shit me, Eddie. I’ve known you for almost two decades. Have you even looked at yourself lately?”

I close my eyes, feeling a wave of anxiety hit my lower gut, and I force it to go away by not caring. “Don’t worry about me, man. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I’m gonna fucking worry!” He stands up, his face full of rage. “If you fuck up this tour, our entire music career is in the gutter! How many times have I had to bail you out when you’ve been coming down from a cocaine binge and are late to rehearsal? How many goddamn times have I had to convince cops not to arrest you when you’re inebriated beyond belief. It’s getting fucking old, man.” He towers over my 6-foot frame and again, I start laughing. 

His eyes widen. “Are you seriously laughing right now? 

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I am, because it’s funny how you think I’m gonna be the one who’s gonna fuck up this tour. I built this band from the ground up, nothing and no one is gonna fuck that up.”

“Oh fuck you, dude!” He yells at me. “You built this? What happened to you saying this entire band was built on friendship, loyalty and fucking friends who play nerdy games? What happened to that Eddie?” 

“Dead.” I give him a sideways smile. “Dead dead dead.” 

He looks at me incredulous. “Wow. You’re an actual nightmare.” 

“You’re the one who decided to knock on my door.” I place the cigarette in the can, hearing it sizzle out. I cross my arms over my chest, already itching for another shot. “Anything else?” 

He scoffs, walking towards the door and stepping out. “No. Have a good night, Eddie.” 

“Yeah, you too!” I scream at his back as I shut the door, locking all the locks and kicking the bottom of it. Suddenly, the chair near the table gets a boot from me, followed by the lamp, the paintings on the walls. I smash the beer bottles against the windows, and when I’m finally spent, I collapse on the bathroom floor, digging out the needle. I’ll leave the hotel a couple hundred dollars to pay for whatever I damaged; I’ll hopefully remember to clean up tomorrow.

I’m pretty sure I put too much in it this time, because I’m riding something wild right now. My eyes are half lidded, my breathing is slow but it’s such a peaceful feeling.

“Makes the medicine go down…medicine go down…”

The beginning of that year was when shit started going downhill fast for me. Once I had gotten my panic attack under control, and I felt calmer, I sent you a text message, realizing that tomorrow was the 18th. I typed up, deleted, typed up, deleted, about six different times before finally sending you: Hey stranger, it’s Eddie. Pretty wild to hear from you. I’m currently up in my cabin in upstate NY, but if you are gonna be in Boston. I can make the trip. It would actually be awesome to see you. Hope you are well. 

I forgot how nervous you made me, even back then. You were such a kind, beautiful soul, who loved me and took care of me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so nervous all the time because I really loved you too, but I couldn’t…wouldn’t let myself feel it. You were the only woman in my life that knew me, and actually saw me. You were my best friend, always my partner in group activities in elementary school. It was us against the world the minute I kissed you for the first time when we were eighteen, and then it ended with me, burying my head in the sand, because I’m a fucking idiot. 

My phone dings and I see your name pop up.  Hey!!! Wow, your own cabin huh? Are you a mountain man or something this winter season? I’m sorry if my letter was all over the place, I really should’ve just texted you but, whatever. Here we are now. Yes! Let’s meet, I can give you a spot to meet for coffee? Unless you just want my aunt’s address, I don’t know how Boston is when it comes to famous people. 

I type up a message: Boston is one of those cities that is wild to play on stage in front of, but the people don’t give a fuck if you’re famous. Which is why I bought a condo there, I can live out some downtime in peace. Coffee sounds great. Just let me know a time when you are settled. 

You quickly respond: Ha! Boston is pretty rad. I’m already here, I got here a day early. I know you got a pretty long drive so we can meet the day after tomorrow if you’d like? Say around 10?

I type up that that time and date worked for me and begin packing a small suitcase to take with me on the trip. 

I honestly felt like I was dreaming all this; I get sober, you, a woman that was literally the one that got away because of my own fucking deep-rooted issues, comes back into my life and wants to see me? I feel like I’m living the Notebook. Except, the rated R version where Ryan Gosling is an ex-junkie, who doesn’t build houses, or used to blow cocaine off a woman’s asshole. 

I groan, I already know I’m gonna fuck this up again. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The coffee shop you chose was a place I’ve never been before, it seemed newer, and no one batted an eye when I walked in. I take off my sunglasses and scan the place. It was quaint, quiet, with rustic undertones but mostly modern. 

“Eddie?”

My eyes immediately fix on you, sitting in the back booth by a small window, and I feel my heart flutter down to my stomach. God, you were stunning. Your eyes still shone that sparkle in them, your smile was just as adorable as I remembered, especially the dimples in your cheeks. I whisper your name and find myself quickly walking towards you. You wrap your arms around my shoulders, and I let out a deep sigh, almost lifting you off your feet, as I hug the curves of your waist, burying my face into your shoulder. We stay like that for a while, you giggle into my chest, telling me you couldn’t believe it was me and that I was here. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew I had to. We pull away and you are still smiling, looking into my eyes, you lift your hand to gently curl your fingers into my hair and I smile at you. 

“I love that you still kept this hair.” You say, shaking your head, looking like you’re still trying to process that I’m standing in front of you. 

I gently cup your face, swallowing hard, studying you. You turn your cheek into my hand, and I slowly remove it. You nod for me to sit, and I scoot over into the booth, peeling off my leather jacket. I still stare at your face; I couldn’t believe you were real. The server comes over to take our coffee order, I get mine hot with triple espresso and a shot of caramel, and you get an iced coffee with a shot of vanilla and almond milk. I smile, you’ve kept the same order since you started drinking coffee. 

Your eyes fix on mine, and I smile at you, sipping my coffee. “You haven’t changed.” I tell you softly. 

“My back will have to disagree with you.” You laugh, spinning the straw with your finger. “You haven’t either, aside from more tattoos.” 

I smile; remembering that you were there for most of my smaller ones. I had convinced you back then to get a large tattoo that started from under your breast, all the way down to the top of your hip; that was always my favorite part of you to taste. I cross my legs, feeling a tingle in my lower belly. Fucking pervert. 

I notice a few finger tattoos on your right hand, and I nod to them. 

“I told you they were addicting.” I laugh. “How many do you have now?” 

You laugh, a sound so beautiful to my ears, I want to cry. “Sixteen? Seventeen?”

My eyes widen and I laugh. “No way! Let me see.” 

You meet my eyes, your face turning crimson. Of course, there were hidden ones, I immediately feel like I overstepped and go to apologize when you speak. “It’s a lot of random ones, all over. I added some stuff to the rib piece.” That one you show me, you lift up your sweater, and I feel my dick twitch. 

Pervert. Dirty pervert. It’s been fifteen years, put your dick away. 

The cluster of wildflowers that started from your ribs to your hip had added roses to different spots they ended up entwining into a beautiful ivy vine, before falling off towards your back. I notice the bottom of a small piece on your sternum, and you pull your sweater back down. 

“That’s beautiful.” I tell her, smiling. “What have you been doing these last fifteen years?” 

“Well, I moved out of Hawkins.” I smile at that, she always wanted to leave that place. “I moved to Maine, I bought myself my own little cabin in the woods. I’m a nurse at the local hospital there.” 

My heart practically bursts with pride, and I laugh. “See? You don’t have to be famous to have your own cabin. That’s wonderful, I know that was always a dream of yours, becoming a nurse.”

“Yeah, it’s fulfilling. Heartbreaking 99% of the time but fulfilling.” Your eyes fix on mine again, and we just share comfortable silence as we stare at one another. 

“Your eyes are sad.” You say suddenly. 

“What?” I snap myself back down to my reality; it was easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back again. Sorry for being blunt, I’m just sorry for whatever is bothering you.” Your eyes show me that same familiar kindness, and I smile awkwardly at you.  

“I’m okay.” I tell you, only half lying. 

You place your hand over my ringed fingers, gently entwining them. I stare at our hands, and gaze back into your eyes. “What am I doing here?” I whisper to you. I can feel my heart do another back flip, and my brain screams at me to get up and run because I can still feel your love. 

Your fingers gently move over the bumps on my rings, and your eyes dart to mine. You spot the small silver chain around my neck, half tucked in my shirt, and you lift your hand to gently pull out the red guitar pick. You finger the plastic and smile. “Wow. You kept this all these years.” 

“Of course, I did. I never take it off.” Except when I used to shoot dope, but that’s beside the point. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sweetheart, why am I here?” 

You sigh, giving me a sad smile. “Would it be weird if I said that I really fucking miss you? And for the last fifteen years, I haven’tstopped thinking about you.” 

Heart exploding. 

My breath hitches and my eyes widen slightly. “But…I hurt you…and I left—"

“I know, I know you did, but” you take my hand again. “Eddie, we were best friends. Since before we could even say those words. You were so important to me. You’re still important to me. How could we throw that away?” 

I stare at you, reading your face, gazing at the shape of your mouth, the way your hair falls in waves, the curves of your breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling my hand away from yours. “You wouldn’t think that anymore once you know what I’ve done, who I’ve become.” 

“Then tell me.” You say softly, your eyes dart from my lips, to my eyes. I stare at your lips, remembering how perfectly they fit against mine, how soft they were. How eager you would be when your tongue would slip into my mouth, deepening the kiss, your soft moans vibrating against my mouth as I carefully push myself inside you. 

I meet your eyes; you’re waiting for me to say something. I shake my head, running my hands over my hair. I sigh. “How long you got?” 

You look at your wrist at a fake watch. “About a week.” I laugh and lean back in my seat, sipping my coffee. 

Yeah, I missed you too. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Special shout out to: @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @iggyizalien @themorticians-world

& so many of you who supported my last series.

I wouldn’t continue writing if it weren’t for you guys giving me the motivation to do it. Love you all!

[freeusemuses]

Setauna looked down at Elastigirl, his eyes full of lust. He had escaped from the abyss and just wanted to have fun. But this curvy and busty heroine tried to stop him, to no avail. It had been hard fought, but he had her pinned to the ground, his hot body leaning over her, “It seems you underestimated me.”

(Takes place before the heroes were banned and her married)

"So what are you going to do this time?" The heroine asked the powerful demon as she was pinned down. "Chain me to your bed? Hypnotize me-actually, that one was very fun~"

[sarah-maclean-completist]

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[mai-333]

The resurgence of 90s ‘Heroin Chic’

Kate Moss for Blumarine Fall/Winter 1996

Characterised by pale white skin, extreme skinniness, dark eyebags, and an overall sickly look. Heroin chic has long been criticised for romanticising drug use and disordered eating. Rising to trend in the mid 80s, peaking in the 90s, and continuing through the early 2000s, it wasn’t until quite recently in the 2010s that Heroin chic slowly started to die out. Though it never truly went away, from the 2010s it has been far more popular to be curvy, and have an hour glass figure. However, with many thick ladies such as the Kardashians who were renowned for their curvaceous figures now liquidating their BBLs, many fear that heroin chic will return.

Heroin chic grew into popularity mainly with super models, as well as fashion photographers such as David Sorrenti. It was made very clear by the media, and fashion labels, that the ideal body type was one achieved through unhealthy methods. It showed and glamorised this malnourished look, and ultimately led to disordered eating of countless women and girls. As well, in order to be a model many women had to lose weight, and were forced into strict diets to keep their petite size.

Though heroin chic is what was promoted, this didn’t stop the media from attacking and accusing women of ‘encouraging’ heroin chic. Artists such as Fiona Apple have faced lots of backlash for apparently promoting heroin chic, despite speaking out about following beauty standards shown in popular media. The media has shown countless times how quick they are to attack slim women for promoting heroin chic when it isn’t done in a way they can market off of.

Currently, despite the abundance of progress made by the body positivity movement, the social climate still seems to be tipping more towards thinness again. Many people are opting for a more slim look, dieting is increasing, clean girl is trending, more women are going to the gym. However, there has been an increase as well in disordered eating, and body insecurities. These seem to never have truly gone away. But by tackling some of the root causes, such as encouraging unhealthy dieting etc, we can help to prevent this from starting.

I do truly believe that thanks to the body positivity movement that maybe this time around it will be more positive. Being skinny is not a problem, it’s just the methods people take to achieve it. So with proper self care and the new knowledge on mental health, maybe this time heroin chic will truly die, and be replaced by a healthier alternative. With all things trends come and go, it is truly just a shame that women’s bodies are one of these trends.

[sarahmaclean]

Knockout is here! This one comes with very a very big hero who feels even bigger feelings for my curvy heroine who is pure, delightful, explosive (💥) mayhem. It’s full of all my favorite things: 

Two people who are absolutely gone for each other

A group of friends who clock it from the start and get popcorn

Justifiable face punching

An exasperated bodyguard of a hero

A heroine who has no intention of being body guarded

Banter--my god, these two and their BANTER just get a room already! (spoiler: they get a room)

Only one bed in a London snowstorm 

Me and you against the patriarchy

💥💥💥💥

I hope you’ll love this one as much as I do. I am so so thrilled to share it with you, because I miss these two a whole lot, and I can’t wait for y’all to meet them.

Get it wherever you get your books, or at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Books or your local independent bookstore!

[triviareads]

Maybe because I have read so many wallflower books with interesting women but Penelope has always fall flat to me

I agree. There are a few things that stop me from enjoying Penelope:

a) The fact that narratively she had to lose weight for Colin to notice her— yes I know there's a gap in time between both these things occurring but the fact that Julia Quinn wrote Penelope as fat/plus-sized initially and then backtracked by saying DON'T WORRY GUYS SHE LOST WEIGHT and basically half-assed the rep.... bothers me.

b) Unlike multiple wallflower heroines written by other authors, ultimately Penelope does nothing to actually garner Colin's attention. His attraction to her hinges on him randomly walking up to her one day and having a conversation with her after years of being around her. And even then it takes longer for him to realize she's a) and attractive woman and b) someone he's attracted to. The point of a wallflower heroine in a romance novels to me is that they need to take charge of their passivity and actually do something about it— not just losing weight and changing the colors you wear, but something more. Lisa Kleypas's Wallflowers series begins with 4 overlooked women making a pact to find each other husbands, no matter how questionable the methods. Sarah MacLean's Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake begins with Callie (who btw is also curvy and a spinster) deciding she's no longer going to be passive and she's going to do *scandalous* things in a list she creates.

c) for show fans out there who are like BUT SHE'S DOING SOMETHING GREAT with Lady Whistledown, I assure you, there are a bunch of historical romances out there where overlooked heroines (and not overlooked ones!) are going against the grain and running businesses, orphanages, writing books that educate women on sex, creating a circulating library for similar purposes, writing and illustrating scientific tracts, etc. And none of them harm other women with their carelessly repeated gossip. Book!Penelope's version of LW is a cutesy little gimmick, though the fact that all of London is applauding her after she secretly wrote shit about them for years.... is hard to believe.

d) There are books with better carriage scenes and actually existent mirror scenes out there. Which leads me to my point that I don't particularly enjoy Julia Quinn's sex scenes and her writing is very middling in the grand scheme of historical romance authors.

If you're looking for recs with heroines like Penelope but better, here it is.

[sketchfanda]

Kirishima's Mystique:Favour for a Friend

Now Uwabami was more than just a pretty face mind you, which saying something when you were a woman whose quirk made you seem like a modern day gorgon akin to Medusa, minus the petrifying gaze of course. She knew for a fact some found her status and position as a pro heroine questionable given she was known more for her looks, nevermind that her quirk heightened her senses and made her able to locate people, but she considered such criticism shallow and vapid at best. After all public opinion could be fickle and often times, PR work and putting oout a good image was as important as fighting crime and besides which modelling helped to make that extra bit of money to cover the bills.

After all, no-one ever said the life of a hero was all wealth and fame, you had to put in the work especially in your hero work and your dayjob and modelling was an art. One that had come a long way and with the variety of quirks out there, there was always a potential in training or a fine charismatic rookie to spotlight and platform. Such being the case on today's shoot for her Studio's set with a fine cute sexy thing recommended by the Britos Agency, a lovely cutie by the name of Monica Del Rio. Mona to her friends of course, a general course student from Jagua del Toro and to say she was a stunner was an understatement.

So much so that her best friend, resident UA exchange student Maya had recommended the girl have a bodyguard on hand, after all an angel with a face and body like hers needed to be protected from all those unsavoury sorts with bad intentions. Though she had a sense of intuition in the back of her mind about specifying Red Riot of all people as the man for the job but the shapeshifting bombshell who'd interned on more than one occasion was insistent. And to be fair, he was proving pretty good at his job not to mention was pretty easy on the eyes and Mona of course seemed comfortable enough with his presence on set. If anything it was like she hardly could ever keep those pretty green eyes of hers off of him.

it certainly seemed as if she considered the hard-headed redhead a muse of sorts, given the grace and charisma she was radiating through her shoots. The cameras couldn't get enough of her whether she was rocking a stylish ensemble or wearing little to nothing for more sensual themes. The girl was a work of art when she got into the sway of momentum so why complain when the results spoke for themselves after all. It certainly helped that the himbo was quite effective alright at keeping any male model partners from getting handsy or have any funny ideas, it's clear he was used to shooting down pervs with dirty thoughts.

Though the snake haired woman wasn't sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her when some portions of the shoot, Mona had convinced Kirishima to step in and fill in as a substitute for a set partner and it seemed like she particularly liked pressing herself close to him. Her hands copping a feel of that muscly body or seeming to guide and encourage his to touch her own thicc, curvy form as if with the familiarity and intimacy of a lover. Whether or not that was the case, the photographers and the camera crew were rather enjoying the chemistry, that was for sure.

Wouldn't you know it of course, just as soon as the shoot ad concluded, the pair had disappeared having no doubt gone back to the pink haired sexy cutie's assigned studio dressing room. Good thing she knew this building like the back of her hand as thanks to her quirk, she was able to locate them as she needed to check up and make sure Mona was doing alright after all that work and effort. As well as ask some questions she felt needed some confirmation for her curiosity's sake, mere inches from the door as she was about to knock politely. Blinking as she picked up on the sounds of conversation and noticed the door was slightly open ajar as that same curiosity took hold and made her peek through the view.

There was Kirishima of course sitting on the couch, idly reading a magazine of sorts as the sound of running water and visible steam was noticeable, indicating that Mona was no doubt using the shower. It was likely the sexy cutie was just finishing up refreshing herself after such a long session of model work and the heroics intern was waiting to escort her back to wherever she was residing for the time being, he certainly was chivalrous for sure. Before soon the pink haired sexy cutie graced him with her presence, a towel around her torso as her erotic freckled skin had a glistening sheen from being freshly soaked and washed. The blush on his face adorable as it was clear being in the presence of someone as damn fine looking as Mona in a state bordering on almost naked was clearly doing things for him, as the snake haired heroine picked up on whatever conversation they'd been in the midst of discussing before her unknown presence arrived.

Kirishima:"Not gonna lie, it's unreal you haven't been signed to a brand or label yet with a body of work like this....and uhm..you're SURE you're okay with this?"*The hardheaded red-head asked, putting the magazine down back on the coffee table, allowing Uwabami to see clearly that Mona was on the cover, one of her previous works perhaps? Before noticing how Kirishima was doing all he could to not stare too long at the towel clad sexy cutie, which was easier said than done. Especially given what little else there was to set his eyes on besides such a fine view of a young woman before him who going by the playful pout on her face seemed to want him to stare.*"I mean I get it, Maya's your best friend and I know how persuasive her and Mina can get...."*Whatever else he was about to say hit the figurative breaks as Mona proceeded to drop her towel, flashing him with a proverbial Happiness Punch. Exposing her thicc, toned naked body before him in all its exotic sensual glory.*

Mona:*a soft playfully giggle escaping her pouty lips as she took in Kirishima's stunned reaction from his surprise widened eyes to his dropped jaw. Making her way over to him with a shy yet sensual stride like the act of doing this set off a small burst of confidence in the shy sweetheart as she sat in his lap, straddling his waist and grasped his shirt to pull it off of him.*"I know and I already told you, I want this. They want it to happen and don't think I don't know you want this......just sit back, relax and be...very, good friends..."*With that said, the sexy cutie pressed her lips to his, softly moaning as she pressed the front of her torso against his. Feeling her juicy tits rubbing agaisnt his firm pecs before she gasped as she felt his hands grab and squeeze her equally glorious ass, her sensetive skin's nerves on fire with bliss and ecstasy.*

Uwabami was stunned, silently gasping as she found herself being an unintentional voyeur, dear lord was she suddenly Midnight or something? Yet she found herself unable to look away at the sight before her, looking on as Kirishima and Mona made out, their tongues dancing together as the chivalrous himbo was soon as naked as she was. And dear lord was that boy, no Man, HUNG as she continued her spontaneous peeping to watch away as Mona kissed her way down along his torso until she was face level with his crotch. Her green eyes twinkling with lust and awe at the length and girth before her as she took it in her hand to stroke and began to plant licks and kisses on it.

Far as Uwabami could determine, Mona was no virgin but she certainly wasn't what you'd call a slut or a whore but damn was she deepthroating that thing with gusto!! But she had to wonder if her eyes were playing tricks on her because it seemed like there was another Mona in the room sitting beside Kirishima, occupying his attention as she made out with him and wait was there another sitting on the other side kissing and licking his muscular torso? Now she knows Mona was an only child, there was no way she was one of a third of a set of triplets!! Until she remembered the details of her quirk mentioned in her profile when she read it over for her portfolio.

Monica "Mona" Del Rio, Nationality:Latin-American (from Jagua Del Toro), Quirk:Duplication!! A quirk that allows Mona to make physical clones of herself, similar but different to the villain Twice. Every copy shares a mental link between themselves and their maker but are also capable of independent thought and action. Often used by Mona for a little help with tasks or work and sometimes...well...

So it would seem that whatever arrangement Mona had made with the Red Riot's two lady friends, one of whom was Mona's BFF, it was clear she was looking to make it enjoyable for both her and Kirishima. Hence her using her quirk to spice up this erotic encounter as the Medusa-like hero coninuted to watch with voyeuristic curiosiy as Mona deepthroated his Lil' Riot, her lips kissing the base and his balls as her copies made out with him. Said clones panting and moaning as the sturdy stud fingered them, the feedback shared and felt between them and their maker if the dribble of juices flowing from Mona's snatch was anything to go by. And it only got spicier from there of course.

First it began with Mona riding him cowgirl style, her booty jiggling and tits bouncing away on that jackhammering cock as Kirishima held and massaged her hips. The two copies in the background in his line of sight making out and giving him a little bonus lesbian show before he was soon fucking one doggy style as the other got eaten out by the one being penetrated. Before Uwabami realised it, there were even more copies as Kirishima was the focus of a reverse gang bang, his herculean body drowning in a sea of a baker's dozen of Mona clones. Their hands caressing and massaging his muscular form while drowning him in their sweat and juices as they cheered him on to fill and flood their erotic holes with his white hot seed.

Uwabami eventually managed to pry herself away lest she get too into her peeping act and let the voyeuristic thrill overtake her as she decided to give the lair a little time and privacy. Making her way to her own dressing room as she felt her thighs slick with her arousal, meaning she new knew she was going to need a shower, a very cold one at that as a hot steamy one would be too much fuel for the fire. Meanwhile back with Kirishima and Mona where the sexy cutie was still getting her world rocked by the hardheaded redhead’s raw prowesss. Even with the added numbers game of her quirk clones to back her up, his alpha male level of skill and experience still managed to win out in asserting his dominance and she was loving every damn second of it.

He had endured the army of raw thiccness, bubbly booties and marshmallow plump tits to wear down the numbers until only the original herself remained to receive all his erotic desire and attention. It hasn’t been an easy feat to say the least, from having one clone sit on his face as two of them sandwiched his shaft between the cracks of their meaty, shapely asses to double titfuck and triple blowjobs. But in the end he was still standing as he was now in the shower with Mona, the redhead and cotton Candy haired hottie kissing with desperate lust and abandon as their primal animalistic thirst had overtaken them with the urge to mate and breed. Mona holding in for dear life with her arms and legs draped around the sturdy himbo’s muscle mountain of a body as he pumped and thrust away like a jackhammer into her hungry, warm snatch.

Hot steamy water rained down upon their connected bodies as their skin glistened, fuelling their passion and desire all the more as their juices rained down and mixed with the water flowing into the drain. Neither one ever aware their little union had prior moments ago had a lone witness who’d keep her lips sealed about what she’d seen but would have some quite interesting dreams tonight. All that mattered for them was Mona getting herself intimately acquainted with her bestie’s boyfriend and to say he received a very high praise review was an understatement. Especially when they finally finished and made their exit after a little afterglow basking and making out of course.

Suffice to say the magazine featuring Mona’s shoot sold very well, some fans even particularly enjoyed the pictures with Red Riot, nobody the wiser to how close and intimate the model and hero had been. Save for a select few, Maya and Mina being among them who were currently snuggling with their Man and the blue shapeshifting bombshell’s bestie naked in bed after a very lusty foursome. Yes sir, Mona had become a very special part of their relationship, even having shared contact details with Kirishima and of course sending him some very sexy naughty pictures on his phone. To say nothing of the plans she was making with Maya and Mina for the future when they went along with their man for a little summer visit to Jagua.

Let’s just say of course Kirishima was yet to know or understand that his two girlfriends had very big plans for him and their relationship. One that involved a lot of wild oats being down and making a lot of women happy with his Lil’ Riot, especially those who got to become a part of what they could call their growing circle of intimacy with Mona being the latest and most recent along side a few others. And yes that was including a certain thicc, sexy cute skater/surfer girl, Who was more than on board to have a real man in her life and not some indecisive wuss who only ever strung her along but I digress. But yes indeed Mina and Maya had big plans in mind and oh if you might be wondering, yes Mineta saw the magazine and yes he was bitter and horny all at once as he cursed god and Kirishima alike, oh how sweet it is…..

[moltenzephyr]

I considered this swap a while ago, but put it off because I was hoping to find an articulated curvy Barbie who'd be a match for Isabela (she and the curvies can share clothes). As I do have a second Isabela in box, though, I decided to go ahead and take the plunge.

Daria & Isabella are in a very close brown skintone range, but Daria has more olive undertones, and Isabela rosy ones.

They have different style neckpegs, and I'd heard the Jakks were particularly difficult to remove, but ironically it was Daria's that I snapped all the way out of the neck.

That circular bit holds onto a bar inside the body. Attempting to reinsert it, I could get one half wrapped around the bar, but the other half would just bend back upwards. Ultimately I was able to get it in by cutting off a fraction of one end; I was worried too much would prevent it from attaching it all, but thankfully it worked.

In person, the contrast between Daria's face and new body isn't too bad; her make-up and hair both give her a rosy tone, despite the underlying plastic being more olive. Isabela is starker, particularly if her hand is right up against her face.

Fortunately, the contrast is barely noticeable once they're dressed.

Isabela isn't reading to my brain as herself, anymore though, with such a different silhouette. Instead she is another Disney heroine; Princess Jasmine from Aladdin, who I've adored since I was itsy bitsy.

So now the Hybrid Amaya has a friend her size...

And Lila has another Princess to help her defeat the Heartless!

[mrsvalbaker]

Speaking in Tongues

Preface

Synopsis: Timothée is enamored with a woman he has never met, now will he get the chance?

Warnings: Description of body and sexual fantasy. Not proofread.

Timothée's POV

November 2021

I couldn't believe someone was holding a premiere at Houdini's mansion.

Hollywood never ceases to amaze me, I know being a New Yorker everyone expects me to rag on L.A. but I gotta say, I absolutely love this glittery wilderness. Everyone is free here, weirdness doesn't exist, it's the regular, and there was a little European liberation here.

I was invited to the premiere of James Franco's remake on the 80s cult classic Spellbinder, his was called Spellbound, and it starred my good friend Tom Holland as the straight edge, white collar L.A. attorney, Matt Hayes, Austin Butler played the seemingly good but betraying warlock friend, Dan Clayton, and playing the evil seducing lead on the cover Miranda Every, was my current obsession, Minka Farrah.

I remember seeing her for the first time.It was two years ago at Lily's, we put on a movie before getting intimate, she was the one who raved about this young edgy actress who only does indies, with no connection into the entertainment business at all. The movie was Poison, Joel Schumacher's thriller rendition of Snow White. Set in the New York 90s supermodel scene, Minka plays Nieve Bianco, who's a rising star in the modeling world. Her unique beauty and large breasts bring controversy in the current trend of heroin chic, it shows Nieve struggling with body image and battling bulimia, Lily told me Minka had to lose 90 pounds for the film and she said it messed with her mental state badly since her usual body is curvy. I felt protective of her when hearing that, and wanted to have at it with the director even though his intention was to expose the dangers of the modeling world. Minka's character Nieve, had a rival two years older, Reina Reyes, played by Ana de Armas,  who Nieve usurped as the supermodel of the world. Nieve even caught the eye and heart of Reina's ex girlfriend who left Reina because she was too obsessed with her vanity and career, a butch fashion photographer, Schuyler "Sky" van Axel played by Ruby Rose. So obsessed with her rivalry with Nieve, Reina throughout the movie tries to kill Nieve in different ways but makes it convincingly look like it's one of Nieves many stalkers, even going as far as to give them a name, Malcolm McQueen. Sending pictures of Nieve of circled parts of her body claiming she has gained weight asking why she's turning into a porker, Nieve takes diet pills from Japan, her bulimia gets worse, Reina swapped Nieve's diet pills out with party drugs and fentanyl, Nieve even overdoses and Sky is afraid Nieve has a drug problem as well as an eating disorder, Nieve feel convinced she has a drug problem too but is doing to well in her career to leave for rehab so Sky promises to help her, thinking it's brought on by her stalker. Nieve is followed him one night from a party by one of the photographers, he tries to rape and stab her but he stops and sobs saying she's always been the only model who has been nice to him, Confessing that he's been having money problems due to his drug abuse, and Reina offered him a half a million to kill Nieve and make it look like she was raped and murdered by the made up stalker, he tells Nieve everything. Nieve is so afraid but she doesn't think anyone will believe her, she no longer cares about her career, she checks herself into a mental hospital thinking she will be safe there and if she gives up Sky and her career she will be safe from Reina. But her fans send her letters and praise, the designers donate the proceeds to foundations for eating disorders in Nieves name, Reina was livid of the outcome.

At the hospital she becomes close to her psychologist, Dr. Paul Dormer, played by Jason Patric, tells him about Reina and he has six nurses guard Nieve moving her room to the glass room. Meanwhile, Sky tries to make sense of Nieves mental recession, follows Reina and finds out everything and starts to collect evidence for the police. She finds out Reinas next plan and heads to the hospital, Reina disguises herself as a nurse and crushes up a bottle of sleeping pills putting it into Nieves apple sauce and has it taken to her room.

Sky gets there too late and they're pumping Nieves' stomach but she doesn't make it. Sky dropped video and written evidence of Reina to the cops and goes to kill Reina but the cops arrest Reina. The movie ends with Dr. Dormer and the six nurses at the funeral, they're renaming the hospital after her. Reina is at another mental hospital in a straight jacket crying and laughing that she won, she's the most beautiful woman alive.

The performance of Minka left me with so many feelings, after that movie I watched all of hers. She's so beautiful, 5'3 with the kind of wide hips that shift side to side distractingly, an hourglass figure and bouncy, juicy breasts, 36DDD, a soft little stomach, I wanted to bite every part of her and do explicit things to her curves. I had the living need to lick every part of her light olive skin that was a beautiful resort of her Black, Arabian, and Eastern European heritage. I wanted to see the look of overstimulated pleasure on her round, heart shaped face, her juicy, thick raspberry lips fall open as she tries to scream my name and Rapture but can't as I stretch her with my cock and have my tip pound into her spot.

I rewind the sex scenes in her movies over and over, my source of ejaculation, I tug hard on my cock watching her big violet eyes hood seductively as the screen siren she is. But after my release, when I'm lying in my sheets naked covered in my own cum and sweat instead of hers, I feel livid, colored in green jealousy of her co stars who touched her. When I found out she was in a relationship with Ruby Rose I was inconsolable. When I saw them on the red carpet together, Ruby's nose was buried in Minka's soft, blunt black bob cut. I wanted so badly to smell her.

Her interviews are my favorite. I took great care in learning about her. She lost her mother 24 from cancer, they were close and even mentioning made my lovely girl tear up. I wanted to choke that interviewer for being so insensitive and asking her about that difficult time, I wanted to run her a bath, lock her away from the world and bundle her up in my blankets.

She's from Woodland Park, New Jersey, her mother was from Poland, her dad is a teacher. They moved to Carmel-by-the-sea when she was in her senior year, she went to an all girls Catholic school. She hated school and she's bisexual. Her brother Stone is trans and he's her assistant, her other brother Jerzy is a pilot. Her favorite color is red. She's older than me by ten months and born on Elizabeth Taylor's birthday, who is her idol. She speaks Polish and is an animal activist as well as a queer activist, 80s punk and dark wave is her favorite music and when I found out she and Ruby ended and she bought a home in Beverly Hills, I bought one in Santa Monica.

It wasn't hard for me to get an invitation to the premiere of Spellbound, I know that sounds gross and cocky but for once I'm so grateful for my status.

I made sure to dress my best, begged my stylist to conjure up something eye-catching and revealing, to make me look as desirable as I could. Erin didn't disappoint. She clothed me in a halter like, sleeveless, waistcoat in white with a black collar, matching trousers almost made like formal joggers, and Chanel combat boots. To top it off, red was splattered on the design to look like blood, it was fitting for the film being premiered. The trousers were a little tight around the crotch area.

The mansion looked incredible, the main event was out in the gardens, thankfully heating lamps were everywhere, it was still chilly in November, even in L.A.. I ran into many familiar faces, sometimes I couldn't believe I was famous and that these amazing legends were talking to me.

Suddenly, I heard a musical laugh, it was giggly and scratchy and I fell in love all over again. I politely excused myself to find the source that I knew it belonged to. Standing in the center of the garden , posing with James Franco in an inappropriately tight, Morticia dress with a neckline that plunged to her navel was…her. Her Mia Wallace hair melted beautifully with the ebony of her dress and framed her picturesque face, she looked like she could be a film siren from the 1910s, her eyes were done in vamp flapper style, lips painted the color of deep cherry red that matched her embroidered gloves with occult imagery. My eyes kept slipping to her cleavage that was falling from her dress, almost, with curious eyes, you could nearly see her nipples.

Stirring occurred in my too well tailored trousers. I licked my lips and decided to bite the bullet and meet the woman of my dreams.

I don't know when but before I knew it, I was close enough to tower over her, close enough to hear her whispering to James that his special friend was looking jealous by the fountain, and close enough to smell the hypnotic sweet and dark scent of her perfume.  Before I lost my nerves I cleared my throat and spoke her name like a spell.

"Excuse me..."

@meetmyothersouls @sufferingstarlight

[hunterssm00n]

Beyond the Stars

Layla is a recovering heroin addict on a rehabilitation ship out in deep space; the mission is for the junkies in recovery to build housing for colonies on a new planet that is found to be safe for human existance, therefore giving them a second shot at life without sending them to prison. Basically killing two birds with one stone. However, Layla soon uncovers a secret that Weyland-Yutani Corp. is hiding from the public, and when there's an alien outbreak aboard the ship, she is unsure if she will make it back to Earth to share her gruesome discovery.

chapter 1 of ??

also on ao3: here

*cw include smut, interspecies relationship, canon typical violence/gore, explicit language, past drug use, offensive language, xenomorph things, past abuse, dark themes* MDNI - 18+

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hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

"Broke! Inside / This life, you can never be reborn within / I came this far, erase my scars / Fight! This time / Inside, take a break from the lie you live / I came this far, erase my scars" ~ 'Erase my Scars' - Evans Blue

Chapter 1: Erase My Scars

The sound of birds chirping woke her up, along with a steady stream of warm light she was aware of even though her eyes were closed. She allowed one eye, the one closest to her pillow, to slowly crack open. The light was not blinding, but rather awakening, if that made any sense. Not harsh, but warm and inviting. Wake up, you are welcome here. Along with the birds and a faint gentle breeze causing leaves on the trees to rustle, it really was paradise.

Too bad it was fake.

She let her other eye open to observe the simulation of said paradise, the image of a sunny summer morning being shown back at her. The image, though a lie, was definitely crafted well. The whole idea of having scenery simulated on the walls of one's bedroom was a definite jackpot. It was both practical and impractical at the same time. Something crazy, but with just enough sense poured into it that it made the whole thing justifiable. The idea, of course, was to soothe the brain into thinking you were somewhere peaceful, serene, safe. She wondered then if there would be some sort of advanced setting upgrade where there was, like, a rock concert going on in the background, or a derby. That would most definitely defeat the whole 'soothing' purpose of the thing though, so probably not. Just another one of those weird little things she wondered. Hell, there wasn't much in here to do but wonder.

She was Layla Thomas, and here was a floating hunk of metal in deep space that housed junkies and recovering drug addicts. Who knew a few hundred years ago that there would be flying rehabilitation centers zooming through the sky, past planets? If they were zooming though, Layla thought, it would probably be much more fun. Not like any of them would really be able to tell anyways. Windows were limited to none, and most of the patients weren't allowed near them. Mainly because recovering druggies could be very dangerous, especially when coming down off of meds or still on the last gasp of their previous high. Druggies, like psychos, had very little concept of pain when doped up, and could display an incredible amount of strength, even if they were not but skin and bones. These corporate suits weren't going to take any chances. Not even on a 5'3 dirty blonde with curvy legs and big brown doe eyes.

Layla lifted her head off of her pillow to fully inspect the image of a maple tree to her right; it probably might've been a bit more believable had the floor also had some sort of simulated grass. It went from the beautiful flowery-grassy-lovely scenery on the wall straight to stark white, cold tile.

With a tired sigh, she shifted on the memory foam mattress to reach to the nightstand, conveniently next to the tree, for the remote. There were a few settings that she favored over the others - one of them being this sunny morning that was displayed right now. But her favorite was the ocean setting, which was what she switched to now. Immediately, the green grass melted away to become blue foaming waves, surrounding her with gentle crashing noises of the tide. The birds chirping became seagulls squalling in the distance, and the yellow streaming sunlight became a creamy pink, orange and blue tye-dye. The color of the sky when the sun rose. Layla settled back onto the bed with another sigh; this one of longing.

She missed Earth, missed her family, missed her freedom. And she missed the ocean. A phenomenon she'd only experience the beauty of a handful of times, but she visited it every day in her memory. Her obsession went so far that she had a mermaid tattoo on the back of her left shoulder. Sometimes she scoffed at herself; twenty-five years old and she still wanted to be a mermaid when she grew up.

The drug use hadn't done anything to dull her overactive imagination. If anything, it had increased it. Kind of what she'd been counting on when she'd taken her first hit. Heroin had been her poison of choice. God damn old bitch had caught her at her worst moments and had helped her to fly. She was glad it was gone, but missed it all the same. The withdrawal had been God awful; spewing from both ends, screaming and crying, night sweats, insomnia... If she ever thought she'd been close to death before, it was nothing compared to what she'd gone through then. She'd honestly thought she was dying; honestly had wanted to go rather than endure another day of the unbearable pain.

Finally sitting up in her bed, Layla looked down at her left arm, the inside of her elbow. The track marks were very visible still, even after three months. They would probably remain in sight for the rest of her life. She frowned at how purple/brown/ugly they looked, like ticks dotting her skin. They'd look much better if she still had her tan - too bad the simulated sunlight couldn't do that for her. It looks real, it sounds real, but it ain't real.

A keyboard note softly sounded out through the room, signifying the presence of somebody outside her door. There was no point in telling them to come in or fuck off. They couldn't hear her. This room was totally soundproof from the outside. The only means of contact was the little clear rectangular device on her nightstand. It would contact a nurse should she need something, and aid as a panic button for emergencies. Other than that, everyone could come and leave as they pleased freely through those doors. Everyone but her.

Layla wasn't exactly sure how many patients besides her there were on this ship. She knew it was big; as big as a commercial towing vehicle, or a medical facility. And they probably wouldn't be going through all this trouble for just her and a few other junkies, so she assumed there was more than a mere handful of them.

The entire point of her being on this floating hunk of junk was so that she could help build housing for colonies on another planet light years away from Earth. There were plenty of rehab centers on Earth that could have helped her, but none that would teach her whatever lesson she was about to be taught. Also, none that would have their own benefit of workers that didn't need to be paid. Layla, unfortunately, hadn't been a good girl back on Earth when it came to her drug problem. And upon being caught, she had run from the cops. Busted for heroin, evading arrest: all factors of the situation spelled bad news for her and her future. In court, she was given a choice: prison, multiple charges, her life ruined because of her own stupid mistake. Or, hopping aboard one of Weyland-Yutani's massive ships (since that company was the founding father of most of their technological advancements), and helping them build a few homes on a barren wasteland of a planet. Afterwards, they would let her off scott-free, clean slate. It almost sounded too good to be true, aside from the fact that they would have to be gone for more than a year from their homes back on Earth.

Sparing herself and her family the messiness and pain of prison, plus all of the combined contributions, Layla took the chance she was offered. Honestly, both options sucked, but plan C, aka. not getting caught, hadn't worked out too well either. She'd brought it upon herself; addiction was truly a disease. So many times she had thought about quitting, but as destructive as the drugs had been, they'd also been the only thing that actually calmed her, soothed her mind. That needle in her arm had brought her solace, even though it was destroying her. Lustrous golden hair was now dull and stringy. Tan skin was now pale with track marks and bruises, veiny and death-like. She had dark circles under her eyes that hadn't gone away in months. At least now though she could sleep - when she had first gone off the drugs, sleep had been non-existent.

The doors slid open to reveal a female nurse, Janine, she thought her name was. Janine, Jenny, Geraldine? She couldn't remember, nor did she really care. It sounded awful, but she had stopped caring about a lot ever since she had gotten into heroin. Things that used to matter didn't seem to anymore. That was one of the many reasons why she had wanted to quit, but the fear of things going back to how they had been completely scared her into putting down the spoon and the syringe.

"Morning doll, how ya doin' this mornin'?" the nurse, Jeanette, she could now read on the nametag, said in a southern twang.

"Just great," Layla grumbled. How the fuck did she think she was doing? She immediately felt bad for her grumpiness. It wasn't this woman's fault she was in this situation. It was her own fault. She was even tired of blaming herself though. She did it all day, and especially when she tried to sleep. Did it in her dreams. It was a shitty situation all around. There had been reasons for why she did what she did. Good reasons. But she didn't want to think about them now. Now it was time to start the day.

"Brought you some new pants, figured you was gettin' tired of the old ones," Jeanette held out another pair of pants identical to the ones Layla was wearing. Layla refrained from rolling her eyes/giving a death glare. Humoring the nurse, she took the pants and made her way to the restroom near the exit. If one more person tries to be funny, someone's gonna get punched, swear to God.

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AN: I do not own the Alien franchise or any of its characters, but Layla is my own OC, as well as a few others in this story.

The header above was made by me**

chapter 2