#the out-of-control saga continues!

[sensitiveheartless]

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[a-salty-alto]

...ok hear me out:

If there's ever a movie version of EPIC, one of the guys who gets eaten by Scylla is implied to be if not outright stated to be Eurylochus's secret gay lover

[driverlando]

✧.* FAMILY FIRST

synopsis- In which Charles and Y/n have had enough of the paparazzi standing outside their house

before you continue: it’s been a while since I did anything for Charles, I missed this! If you enjoyed this then please reblog and give me a follow! <3

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✧.* Charles has had enough

You glanced out the window, your heart sinking as you saw the familiar sight: a cluster of paparazzi, cameras flashing like distant lightning, capturing moments of your private lives for public consumption. You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of their intrusion settle heavily on you shoulders. Another day, another invasion of your sanctuary.

Charles entered the room, his footsteps heavy with frustration as he followed your gaze to the window. “Again?” he muttered through clenched teeth, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“They just won’t leave us alone,” you said softly, your voice tinged with weariness as you absentmindedly rubbed your pregnant belly, the new life within a poignant reminder of your need for peace and privacy.

Charles kissed your forehead tenderly, a silent reassurance before he strode purposefully outside. His jaw was set in determination as he approached the nearest photographer, who greeted him with a mocking smirk.

“Hey, dude! Got any news for us?” the paparazzi taunted, his camera clicking away relentlessly.

Charles’s temper flared, a surge of protective instinct coursing through him. In one swift movement, he closed the distance, snatching the camera from the man’s hands with a firm grip. “I’ve had enough of this,” he growled, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority. With a forceful gesture, he tossed the device to the ground, the clatter of impact punctuating his frustration.

The photographer stumbled back, momentarily taken aback by Charles’s sudden assertiveness. His eyes widened in surprise as Charles stood tall and unwavering, his presence commanding respect. “Get out of here,” Charles commanded, his tone brooking no argument, his stance a formidable barrier against further intrusion.

The paparazzi hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes before he begrudgingly began to retreat, muttering under his breath as he moved away. Charles watched him go, a mix of relief and lingering tension evident in his posture, before he turned back to you.

“We’ll figure this out,” you reassured him gently, her touch a soothing balm against the raw edges of his frustration as you placed a comforting hand on his arm.

Charles sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility for their family’s well-being pressing heavily on him. Pulling you close, he buried his face in your hair, his cheek resting against yours. “I just want our family to have some peace,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and determination.

You stood together in the quiet of your home, finding solace in each other’s presence amidst the turmoil.

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✧.* the boys show their support

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charles_leclerc

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername and 156,478 others

charles_leclerc To the tabloids and paparazzi lurking outside: here’s your exclusive! a never seen before picture of me holding my son for the first time, hopefully this will stop you from spending day and night outside my house.

view all 14,628 comments

yourusername well they’ll have no choice but to leave us alone after the lawsuit 🫢

user1 omg crazy how this was 3 years ago and now yall are having another baby 🥹

user2 dad Charles is everything to me

user3 im glad they have gained some control, hopefully the paps leave

landonorris cutest baby (I’m not talking about you Charles)

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Charles Leclerc’s Explosive Confrontation with Paparazzi: A Battle for Privacy

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In a gripping saga that has captured public attention, Formula One star Charles Leclerc and his influencer wife Y/N Y/L/N have found themselves embroiled in a fierce confrontation with paparazzi over their family’s privacy. The couple’s determination to protect their young son and their unborn child has led to heated exchanges, a broken camera, and a looming lawsuit against intrusive photographers.

The First Signs of Trouble

The tension reached a boiling point when Y/N tweeted a stark warning to the paparazzi:

“Hey paparazzi, here’s a tip: stop scaring my son. Respect our privacy or lawyer up.”

Charles Leclerc, known for his calm demeanor on the race track, showed a different side of himself by retweeting her post with his own impassioned message:

“I’ve reached my limit. It’s exhausting having to explain to my 3-year-old son why there are grown men waiting outside our house with big cameras. Please respect our privacy or be prepared to deal with the consequences. Nothing matters more to me than my family’s peace and security, and it’s my duty as a father and husband to shield them from any intrusion, especially now that my wife is pregnant.”

Forced to Reveal the Pregnancy

The couple, who had hoped to keep the news of their pregnancy private for as long as possible, felt compelled to make an announcement after the initial confrontation. The public reaction was overwhelmingly supportive, with fans expressing outrage at the paparazzi’s disregard for the family’s privacy.

Despite the couple’s plea for respect, the relentless paparazzi returned a few days later, once again besieging their home. The situation reached a critical point when Charles, frustrated and protective of his family, confronted the photographers and broke one of their cameras.

Charles’s Bold Statement on Instagram

In a bold move to address the paparazzi directly, Charles posted a poignant message on Instagram alongside a never-before-seen photo of him holding his son for the first time:

“To the tabloids and paparazzi lurking outside: here’s your exclusive! A never seen before picture of me holding my son for the first time, hopefully this will stop you from spending day and night outside my house.”

The post quickly went viral, with fans and fellow celebrities rallying behind Charles and Y/N, applauding their courage and condemning the paparazzi’s invasive behavior.

Legal Action Looms

Y/N followed up with a decisive announcement that the couple would be pursuing legal action against the photographers:

“We have had enough. Our privacy has been violated, our son has been scared, and our peace has been disrupted. We are taking legal steps to ensure this stops. Thank you to everyone who has supported us and respected our privacy.”

The news of the lawsuit has added another layer to this dramatic story, highlighting the ongoing struggle between celebrities seeking privacy and the relentless pursuit of paparazzi.

Public and Celebrity Support

The public reaction has been largely supportive, with social media flooded with messages of solidarity. Fellow drivers and celebrities have also spoken out, condemning the paparazzi’s actions and expressing their support for Charles and Y/N.

Carlos Sainz tweeted, “Absolutely unacceptable behavior from the paparazzi and it needs to be stopped. Charles and Y/N deserve to share their happy news on their own terms and to live their lives without being hassled. Congrats on the baby, my friends!”

Lewis Hamilton chimed in with, “Proud of @/Charles_Leclerc and @/YourUsername for standing up for their family. Privacy should be respected. Congrats on the new addition ❤️”

Moving Forward

As Charles and Y/N prepare for the arrival of their new baby, they continue to advocate for their right to privacy, setting a powerful example for other public figures facing similar challenges. Their story underscores the importance of respecting personal boundaries, even for those in the public eye.

This ongoing battle between the Leclercs and the paparazzi serves as a stark reminder of the toll that media intrusion can take on a family’s peace and well-being. As the lawsuit unfolds, it will be a pivotal moment not only for Charles and Y/N but for the broader conversation about privacy and respect in the age of instant celebrity.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

[feeder86]

Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time. 

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet. 

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It’s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion. 

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control. 

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.  

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

[kaisacobra]

Deal - Tara Carpenter

Summary: After a long time apart, you and Tara have to figure out if you can still save what you had or if you are too broken to be fixed.

Warnings: A bit of angst (maybe)

Word Count: 3.9K

a/n: This is officially the end of the whole "second best" saga! Thank you so much for everyone who read it till here, it was really fun to write. I hope you guys don't mind the open ending 🤭

Fourth part/Alternate ending of Second Best

Tara couldn't remember the last time she felt this nervous. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror for what must have been the hundredth time, adjusting her bangs again, sweeping them from side to side until they looked almost the same as they did initially. The bright light in the room highlighted her freckles and wide, brown eyes filled with anxiety.

It had been a little over a year since she last saw you, since you accepted a spot for a study abroad program after recovering from the injuries caused by the last ghostfaces attack. You went with Kate, and as far as Tara knew, you and the girl spent that time living together.

She vividly remembered the day you left, as everyone else bid you farewell at the airport while Tara drowned in her own misery in her room. She wanted to go, say something, maybe even plead for you to stay, but she didn't have that right. She had sworn not to get close to you again until she knew she had her emotions under control.

Still, she allowed herself to be a bit more flexible when she noticed that her contact was no longer blocked by you. She let her fingers type an honest and heartfelt message about her mistakes, how sorry she was, and her plans to become a better person in the future. You responded with a heart emoji and nothing more. Nevertheless, it relieved the weight on Tara's chest just to know that you didn't hate her as much as she feared.

Tara remained true to the promise she made, a kind of devotion to you and what you represented in her life. She continued her therapy sessions regularly and decided to set aside some of her pride when trying to find new coping mechanisms, even if some of them required the help of others.

Writing remained her favorite, and she had hundreds of pages to prove it. She would be lying if she said you weren't the most mentioned topic in her journals, but over time, she started expanding her writing, and it became common to see her with a small notebook in her bag at all times, ready to express her opinions and feelings when necessary.

But she didn't have the notebook in hand that day. It was Mindy's birthday, and Tara wanted to be 100% dedicated to her friends, actively participating in games, conversations, and any other activity they needed. She knew she had been a bit absent-minded since you moved away, and it made her friends uneasy, not knowing exactly how to deal with the situation and with Tara herself.

But the day was supposed to be happy and carefree, so that's what Tara was going to appear to be.

Or at least, that was the plan until Tara arrived at Mindy's apartment and heard from the birthday girl herself that you would be arriving any moment. From that point on, Tara only remembers feeling her heart almost leap out of her throat and rushing to the bathroom in a failed attempt to prevent hyperventilation.

She sighed again and gripped the sink so tightly that the knuckles of her fingers turned white. She was anxious to see you, but she had no idea how you would react to the encounter. What if you looked at her with distaste? Or if you didn't even want to look her in the face? Tara knew she would deserve that kind of treatment, but it didn't mean it would hurt any less.

Because the truth is, all this time, Tara just wanted you back in her life.

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Ringing a doorbell should be a simple task, but still, you couldn't help but stand in front of the door, second-guessing before pressing the simple buzzer.

"You know, if you want, we can turn around and leave, but we both know that's not what you want."

You sighed, turning to look at the girl beside you. Kate Bishop had her hands in the jacket pockets and displayed a fond smile on her face, which you imagined was an attempt to make you feel better.

"I hate it when you're right," you scoffed, but both of you knew your indignation was just a joke, having spent enough time together to read each other's reactions like a book.

This wasn't what you expected when you accepted the offer for a year-long study abroad program at Cambridge, but you also couldn't say you weren't satisfied with how things turned out. You didn't even know you needed this change of scenery, but it made sense after everything you had been through. You needed time away from painful memories.

The British air provided a calmness you hadn't felt in a long time, without fear of seeing familiar faces on the streets or places that would remind you of certain memories or people. Of course, good company also played a significant role.

You could hardly believe it when Kate offered to share an apartment with you near the college. She had already done so much for you, being by your side and supporting you throughout your rehabilitation process after last year's attack. You didn't want her to feel obligated to continue taking care of you.

But Kate barely listened to your concerns, saying that she needed to go to other countries to try to expand her company's contacts and that it would be good to have a roommate to share expenses (even though you were pretty sure Kate had enough money to buy three apartments in central London if she wanted to).

It was one of the best decisions you had ever made, and quickly you and Kate fell into such a comfortable rhythm that it felt like you had always lived together. Your relationship even turned romantic for a while, but it only lasted until you both realized that you were better off as friends, which was agreed upon between the two of you.

"Come on, ring that doorbell already! I'm starving!" Kate lightly pushed you, and you rolled your eyes with affection, feeling a bit less tense with your friend's moral support.

"Starving," you laughed and actually pressed the doorbell, taking a few steps back to wait for the moment the door would open. Your hands were trembling, and you felt as though you were about to sweat even though it was quite cold in New York. Of course, you missed your friends, your family, but that wasn't enough to ease your anxiety.

When the door finally opened, you were faced with Mindy Meeks-Martin, with her signature sarcastic smile and her short, curly hair reaching her chin, much longer than the last time you saw her. "Well, well. If it isn't our new European! Do you only speak with an accent now?"

"You're ridiculous." With a smile, you advanced and enveloped Mindy in a long hug that she quickly reciprocated, both feeling the longing emanating through the touch. The contact lasted for a few long seconds until you both untangled yourselves again. "I hope it's not a problem that I brought Kate along..."

"Pfft! Of course not!" Mindy waved her hand, indicating that she didn't mind the newcomer. "It's even better you brought her because I needed to thank her in person for taking care of you." She looked at Kate with a playful smile. "I think we all know our y/n is too kind to be alone in a distant country. She would try to help a stranger on the street and get kidnapped for sure."

"Hey!"

"Wow, have you heard about the time she took the wrong subway, and then..."

"Okay! Enough about my misfortune! Can we go in?" You interrupted Kate, feeling your cheeks flush a bit. Despite being slightly embarrassed, you were still happy that two important people in your life had the potential to get along, and that was all you could ask for.

Mindy made room, and finally, you entered the apartment. It was new, considering the twin and Anika had recently moved in together, and it was sparsely furnished but beautiful and comfortable enough to feel like a home. You and Kate approached, she with her hands on your back as a silent support, and you greeted your friends with enthusiasm and a longing to catch up.

Chad looked stronger than ever, and he seemed excited about both college and his part-time job as an assistant at a gym. Apparently, he got a discount for training and using the equipment and was clearly taking full advantage of it. He and Kate engaged in a conversation about diets, weights, and workouts that you honestly couldn't follow, but you were satisfied to know that they had gotten along well enough to plan to train together someday.

Anika was happy and radiant, making you laugh as she always did. She wore a cropped top, revealing the huge scar forming a line in the center of her stomach, something she seemed to wear with pride. You never expected this reaction from her; on the contrary, you had imagined that she would want to distance herself from the group, out of fear or trauma. Still, it was reassuring to see that she had stayed for Mindy. They were the kind of couple you hoped would last forever.

Sam seemed somewhat lighter since the last time you saw her, as if a huge weight had lifted off her shoulders. She was smiling, albeit not very widely, and welcomed you with a warm hug that almost made you cry with relief. Part of you always wondered if Sam was glad with your departure because of... well... your conflicts with her sister, but she seemed so happy with your presence that it was almost embarrassing that you had that thought in the first place.

And then, she came. A pair of bright brown eyes that haunted your sleep without permission. It was unfair how she looked as beautiful as the last time you saw her, as if time worked differently for her, and only for her. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart seemed to beat so fast it was about to explode.

How could it be possible that your entire system changed just by her presence? How was it possible that, with a glance, she could change your heartbeat and make your head spin like a carousel? Maybe she didn't even know she was doing it, but you couldn't comprehend why, even after so many years, your body reacted so instinctively around her.

It was almost humiliating to realize that your efforts seemed to have been in vain. You had gone to another country, met new people, explored new horizons, even had a girlfriend for a brief period. During this year, you had thought so little about Tara that you almost thought you could leave her in the past, that you had overcome your feelings, so pure but so conflicting. All of this, all this effort to come back and realize that you seemed to still be stuck in the same place, like the same foolish girl who would do anything for Tara Carpenter against your better judgment.

You could still hear her screams on that last night you had together when you thought you were going to die, and your biggest concern was that Tara had to leave that room alive. You still remembered the conversation you had before, Tara begging for your forgiveness and saying she loved you multiple times.

Those were memories that left a hole in your chest. You knew Tara had her problems, but you always lost so much when she distanced herself.

She raised her hand in an awkward greeting, and you think you gave a half-smile in response. It was too much. You were still feeling too much, and it drove you crazy. Still, you pretended everything was okay for a few moments, just not to create an uncomfortable atmosphere at the party. You talked to the others, sharing a bit of your experience in England, but your mind always unconsciously turned to Tara, analyzing her reactions and trying to read her thoughts.

Tara was quiet, maybe even quieter than you had ever seen her. You couldn't read her expressions very well, straining to see her only from the corner of your eye, but you could feel her attentive gaze on you, as if nothing in the world was as interesting as you.

Finally, you stopped talking for a while and found an excuse to leave and try to restore some of your sanity. The door to the balcony was open, and even though the view was nothing but New York's industrial buildings, the cold wind on your face helped alleviate some of the nervousness you were feeling.

A gentle touch reached your shoulder, and it was familiar enough for you to recognize the owner. Kate's image appeared by your side as she leaned on the railing, looking directly at your face in deep thought. "So?"

"I thought I had gotten over this. This is ridiculous." You responded with your head down, feeling ashamed to continue in this cycle of liking Tara Carpenter.

Kate shook her head and held your shoulder again, silently asking for your attention. "You can't control these things, you know." A second of silence passed, the faint sounds of the city serving as a soundtrack to your emotional confusion. "If it helps, she spent the whole time looking at you. She seemed... I don't know, regretful, maybe? I don't know her as well as you do."

"I don't even know if I still know her." It was a true confession. Even after everything, even the attacks and the message Tara sent you when you were leaving the country, you still weren't sure if she had the capacity to return to what she was before everything went wrong. You were afraid, and honestly, who could blame you?

While you were away, sometimes you checked your friends' Instagram, just to see what they were up to. Multiple times, the posts contained photos with Tara, and she seemed happy, maybe even lighter. You even wondered if the two of you were just destined to be apart, like a more brutal version of Romeo and Juliet.

"You're not obligated to anything, but don't you need some sort of closure?" Kate advised. "Just to move on, if that's what you really want."

"What do you mean by that?" You retorted defensively.

The blue-eyed girl smiled and shook her head slightly, as if dealing with an irritated child. "I saw how you looked at her when you arrived. I'm not saying you should do anything, especially because I have my doubts if she could really be good for you, but it's clear that you feel something for her that's bigger than you can control."

"Yeah, and that's pathetic."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I understand that your situation is complicated." Kate placed her other hand on your shoulder, now holding you face-to-face with her. "But you know you'll have to face this someday, right? Whatever the conclusion may be."

"Yeah, I know." You sighed, but eventually a smile broke through, lighting up your expression. "When did you become so wise, Bishop? Last time I saw you, you were trying to put aluminum in the microwave."

"Shut up." She grumbled while also having a smile on her face and pulled you into a hug that you didn't even know you needed. That was Kate, a warm person who always gave her best to the people she loved. You couldn't be more grateful to still have her in your life, even though your relationship didn't work out. 

The affectionate moment almost made you forget your conflict. Almost.

Until the reason for all your doubts appeared standing in front of the door, staring directly at you.

_

Tara regretted going after you.

She should have expected, especially since you came to the party with Kate, especially because you spent this whole year living with her. But that didn't mean it hurt any less to see you embraced with her, looking so comfortable that you wouldn't need anything else in this world.

Especially if it was someone known for hurting you and breaking your heart repeatedly.

She stood there, rooted to the ground like an idiot, until you two separated and noticed her presence. When your eyes met, she looked like a deer in the headlights and immediately started stepping back, embarrassed to have been caught like that.

Tara was already planning how to hide from you for the rest of the party when Kate stopped her. "Hey! No need to leave."

The Latina girl halted her route and looked suspiciously at both of you. You didn't seem to understand the situation, just like her, but Kate seemed sure of what she was doing because she continued. "You two need to talk once and for all. No imminent death or text messages, just eye to eye."

"Kate." You called her, grabbing her arm as a form of protest. Tara couldn't help but wince when she noticed how just how much you were against the idea of being alone with her. Not that she could blame you for it.

"Thank me later." That was all the other girl responded, and with a short nod towards Tara, she returned to the living room, leaving two tormented souls by themselves on the balcony.

Tara took a few small steps forward, analyzing what your reaction would be to the proximity. You seemed to be doing your best to ignore her, looking into the distance as if there were something interesting in graffiti-covered billboards and dimly lit lamp posts. She leaned on the railing, trying at least to have a view of your face. "Sorry if I interrupted your intimate moment; I didn't mean to."

You released air through your nose, but Tara couldn't tell if it was a laugh. "You talk as if Kate and I were dating."

"And aren't you?" The younger Carpenter replied, trying to contain some of the excitement she wanted to show. That had been one of the best news she had received in a long time. 

"No, not for a while. I thought you saw it on my Instagram; I unblocked you." You finally looked at her, and Tara could see that you were analyzing her, as if she were a puzzle to be solved.

"Yeah, I stopped checking a while ago. Thought maybe it would bother you."

"And it wouldn't bother me for you to say you love me and not visit me in the hospital once after almost dying in front of you? It wouldn't bother me that the only news I had from you after that was that message before I boarded the plane, since you didn't even bother to show up at the airport?"

Tara felt the anger in your voice, and she accepted each of your frustrations as a penance. God, she would probably accept a punch from you if that would make you feel better. "I had promised myself that I would only get close to you again when I was better, okay? When I sought help and there was no risk of being an idiot with you again. I didn't lie when I said I love you, and it's because I love you that I knew it was better to stay away until I could be a version of myself that would be better for you."

A minute of pure silence passed, and Tara almost thought the conversation would end there until you spoke again. "And did you? Get better, I mean."

She sighed and crossed her arms as if that made her less vulnerable. "I think so. I don't feel as much uncontrolled anger as before; I also don't feel the need to take out my frustrations in drinks or parties. It's been a while since I argued with Sam, and I think that's good for both of us. And my therapist is nice, even though he's old enough to not know what Twitter is." Tara laughed, even though she was full of anxiety bubbling inside her. "But he advised me to write, and that has helped me a lot."

You looked at her with curiosity. "Write? About what?"

"About everything." Tara shrugged, almost as if she were relaxed. "My day-to-day life, college, my friends... you. Writing makes what I feel not stay trapped inside me, so I have no reason to explode. Everyone wins with this, and I must say that my essay grades even increased after that."

A short laugh escaped your lips, and the sound made Tara minimally satisfied with herself. "You write about me?"

"Yeah, actually, most of my journals have something about you. Memories of our childhood or what I feel for you." Tara admitted, feeling her own face blush with embarassment. You didn't seem to notice, or just didn't care, because you continued to look at her very carefully. "But most of it is about things I regret. Things I said, things I did... I'm really sorry."

"I want to believe that. I mean, I believe you, I know you're not lying, but..." You placed your hands on your head and closed your eyes, your elbows resting on the railing. It seemed like you were trying to block your own thoughts. "It's all so complex, and I feel so much... pain."

"I understand. I don't expect you to forgive me, and I'm willing to spend the rest of my life apologizing if necessary." Cautiously, Tara took a few steps towards you. "But if you want me to stay away, just say the words, and I'll go."

You sighed with evident exhaustion. "Of course not, Tara."

She took a few more steps, and now her arm almost touched yours. "I know I have no right to ask this, but... do you still love me? Or do you think you could love me again someday?"

"Of course, I still love you, Tara! Don't you see that's the problem?" You moved away from the railing, raising your voice as the conversation stressed you. "I shouldn't still love you! I shouldn't still want you around! What does that say about me?"

Tara waited a few seconds until you calmed down, keeping the distance between you to avoid making you more irritated. When your breathing started to slow, she continued in a weak voice. "I hurt the person I loved most in this world. What does that say about me?"

You didn't say anything in response. She spoke again. "Why don't we make a deal?"

"A deal? About what?" You replied with sarcasm dripping from your voice.

"Let me prove that I've changed, that I've improved, that I deserve a place in your life again. We can start slowly; I won't force anything and will respect any boundaries you want." The girl pleaded, almost clasping her hands and kneeling at your feet. "And if I do anything, anything at all, that makes you uncomfortable and hurts you, I'll leave you alone forever."

"What's the point of that?"

"To stop this doubt that I know we both have. Stop us from wondering about the 'what ifs' and really put to the test if I've changed. That's what you want, isn't it? To know if there's any chance the old Tara can come back? Well, that's all I want too."

You stared at her, clear doubt and apprehension in your eyes as you thought about the presented arguments. Tara's foot tapped rapidly on the floor, demonstrating her nervousness.

A few seconds passed until you spoke again. "What does this mean for us?"

Tara's expression softened as she understood your caution. It was understandable, your fear. "I don't know, but we can find out together. Do we have a deal?"

A few more seconds, and then, a nod.

"Deal."

[rottiens]

✮ tags. . sub!kamo chōsō + dom!reader, canon au, female bodied reader, no use of pronouns, established relationship, part of my 'teaching choso new things' saga, praising, dirty talk, aftercare, finger sucking, first time saying 'I love you', reader becomes self conscious and shy at the end, choso is deeply in love with you. divider creds: cafekitsune. wc: 2.6k

You think you are not worthy of the view you have right now. Your breathing becomes arrhythmic mimicking the odd beats of your heart and you think that if you don't blink enough or if you don't control the amount of oxygen rushing to your brain, you could pass out at any moment.

Your fingers get lost in the darkness of his hair, the texture is smooth and clean and slips easily under your fingers. choso's hair is loose because you had helped him wash it just an hour ago, the long strands which, you mentally note cutting when you are in a not-so-compromising position, obscures his gaze and casts a shadow on his face.

His eyes look at you like those of a puppy begging for the next cue, just like a pet longing to be rewarded. If you think your heart will break your rib cage at any moment, it is at times like this that Choso remembers that he has a heart, and that makes him feel closer to being a human, a heart that beats for something more vile than adrenaline in a fight.

With the help of your hands you guide him to where he wants to go, his dull eyes flee from yours only to catch a brief glimpse of your crotch. Just inches from your pussy he can almost taste you in his mouth, for a moment he closes his eyes and lets himself be rocked by the raw scent of sex.

He licks his dry lips, using his saliva as a lubricant for what he will do next. Through your underwear he places a kiss, just above your aching clit that tenses and throbs with the sudden attention. His eyebrows raise and his eyelashes flutter in your direction checking your actions once more.

Your mouth is open. Choso can see your red lips, punished by your pearly teeth, your upper lip catches the tip of your tongue covering the top two main upper teeth and he feels as if he is short of breath.

"You are ethereal," choso muses over the folds of your sex, unsure of what he is doing and yet certain of the reaction he seeks to detach from you.

Ethereal. He learned that word with you, as well as a hundred others you've taught them in the time you've known each other. From the first time he saw you, Choso knew it was love he felt for you. It's just that he wasn't sure of the word until he asked yuuji. It was love he felt for his brothers, for his family, but he didn't think it could also be called love the feeling you bring with you when you walk into the room, the way there doesn't seem to be enough oxygen and the excessive sweating.

You were intoxicating and addictive and you were as nervous as he was when you heard him say he wanted to taste you… choso forces himself to clench his jaw because he's afraid he'll start drooling when he tosses the elastic aside and finally notices how wet you are. He stops breathing for a moment. You were glistening even under the absence of light, the orange sunset tempera justly illuminating your thighs and bare stomach.

Impatiently, he pulls your panties down. Until they become entangled in your knees and he resumes his place and your fingers return to his: on the crown of his head.

He lowers his face to the middle of your thighs and as if enchanted by witchcraft lets his thumb wander along the edges of your pussy parting it and exposing the changing hues hidden there as he continues to explore. The tip of his thumb grazes your clit and you gasp low.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. Stopping immediately to turn his full attention on you, his eyes coated in a layer of glistening lust.

"I'm fine." Your voice is almost unrecognizable— husky and deep with pleasure. You were aching from how much he had unconsciously delayed your pleasure. "I need you to keep going, you're doing such a good job."

His heart clenches at the praise. "You like it?" he asks, full of eagerness.

"Very much," you reply, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes because that would mean no longer looking at him.

Choso rushes back to explore you again. You manage to escape your underwear by pulling them off of you to place your legs over his strong shoulders, you feel him tense up and push his hips against the bed. Your clit is tucked into his full lips, sucking and tasting it as his hips continue to circle on the mattress of your bed. The action makes you spread your legs wider to give him the space his mouth demands, the pleasure makes you moan louder which catches the attention of Choso who curiously rolls his tongue along your slit tasting you better.

Your body spills over his palate like the sweetest of wines as your body clenches and tenses as he continues the licking and sloppy kissing session. Choso is addicted to the way you react when he sucks that little button so he does it again, pushes his face between your thighs that squeeze around his cheeks; despite this you fail to push him away.

His name rolls out of your mouth like a mantra. Choso hears your compliments, your prayers, between your sobs he manages to decipher the words "please" and "sensitive" however at this point he can't stop to verify what you are meaning or admire your reaction.

This was what he had created. Your wet pussy, dripping over his mouth with each new lick and he wanted… no, he needed more.

The bulge in his pants hurt and the only way to make it better was to rub against the sheets. He's done this before, unsure whether to touch it or not, just rubbed silently against his sheets —his sweaty hair sticking uncomfortably to his face, his sobs muffled by the feathers on the pillow— while he thinks about you, your voice, how your fingers feel around his, your kisses…he can't take it anymore. Choso always ends up ruining his sheets or his pants as soon as that knotted feeling tangles his guts and he knows that if he keeps it up he'll do the same to yours so against his will he pulls his head out of your thighs, as if some unnatural force has done it for him.

You are clearly confused, choso can see it in your face, especially in your eyebrows together and that knot tightens further causing more heat to spill out in the form of a blush on his cheeks.

"What— why?" you ask as you find your voice.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to wet your bed."

It's mortifying the pain and regret on his face. Your stomach contracts and you bite your lip to keep from lunging at him and eating his mouth. How could you possibly have turned out to find someone so adorable? Finally, your eyebrows relax along with the muscles in your face and a small smile takes hold of your lips.

"Lie down. Face up," you order him gently.

Choso does it right away, no need for questions or for you to repeat it again. He is across horizontally on the bed, his arms behind his head elevating his neck to take a good view of you and his feet are sticking out slightly from the bed.

When your fingers catch on the elastic band of his underwear, Choso has to take a gasp of air. He forces himself to inflate his lungs which fill with the musky, sweaty smell that pervades the room and he feels so weak in front of you. Exposed, just like the pulp of a fresh fruit you've just bitten into.

You ride on his lap taking it as a seat and his legs tighten as he feels your weight. Choso trembles with need and even though this is the first time he has been this close to you in this way, he feels the urge to pounce on you to feel you closer.

You push him back onto the bed as you see his intentions, the growl that slips out of his throat lets you know how unsatisfied he is as you let out a mischievous chuckle. Choso looks like a caged animal, he gasps like one; and just like an animal in captivity if you provoke him enough he can actually bite.

"I'm going to show you something," you tell him, chasing the flame you see growing in his eyes.

His pupils dilate and widen as he watches you undo your top and finally take his dick in your hand and arrange it in a position where it rests on his stomach. You get distracted by the spiral-shaped hairs you find on his navel line, your fingertips slipping between them and getting lost in the tangle of tangled hairs above his pelvis. It is only then that you improve your posture to lean forward and sit right on his cock; your wet folds embrace his shaft and it is automatic the way choso drops his jaw in unison as he drops his head back.

Darkness is all he can see for a moment. His forearm rushes to his mouth and his teeth dig into the skin almost automatically, the light layer of sweat matting his teeth and the roof of his mouth repeating the same pattern he has been recreating weeks ago in the silence of the night. Choso squeezes his eyes shut, that snake made of electricity tightens on his thighs and he sobs.

"I'm going to make you sticky…" he warns you in a weak voice, melting into the darkness around him seeking refuge from what's really happening and you find it adorable how much he's struggling to maintain control of his body.

"You're going to cum," you explain sweetly, pulling your arm away from his mouth. "Let me listen to you. Your moans are just for me."

"Is that what it's called?" Choso has a theory that if maybe he makes conversation he can distract himself from the fact that you were moving up and down on his dick, so wet, so smooth, it's like you're dancing. The sensation is new and so different, it's not like anything he imagined before. He rolls his eyes unable to keep them open and thrusts his hips upward.

As he loses control, the black mark that crosses over his nose expands and warps and that along with choso with tousled hair, streaked over the purity of the sheets is one of the most sacred images you've ever been able to behold.

"Yes-" you were smiling, addicted to the reaction you got from him. Riding faster as you feel your own orgasm building.

You manage to catch his hands and bring them on top of his head trapping him and leaving him helpless before you as you move with pressure on his cock that continues to drip, rub and throb over your clit with each new rotation of your hips, it was painful to feel him so close and far away at the same time, maybe choso felt the same but you didn't want to push him; you wanted it all to happen when he was ready.

"I want to touch you." More than a request, it sounds like a demand, a need, so you decide to give in and release one of his arms, curious about what he will do next.

To your surprise, his hand goes to your cheek. Large, compared to your face, rough and hard from having fought so many times alongside you and his companions exorcising curses, yet it brings a comfort and security in it that compels you to close your eyes and let yourself be guided by the pleasure and intimacy of the moment. Choso crawls along your cheek bone and rests on your lips, with his thumb he squeezes your lower lip which makes you open your eyes as you watch him part your mouth and land on your tongue.

You moan as you take it around your lips. His brow furrows and his throat vibrates with each new moan that he now doesn't want to disguise, your tongue plays with his finger, your teeth nibble at his skin just to tease him and the raw taste of his flesh floods your mouth.

"I'm going to cum," choso says suddenly, using the new word you've taught him.

Slowly, he moves his thumb out of you, cradling your cheek with his hand. You drop into this one, consumed by the act.

"Are you going to cum?"

"Uh huh," he replies with his lip between his teeth.

"For me?" Choso sucks his lip and closes his eyes again, his cock quivering hard between your folds expelling white ropes that interrupt the harmony of his skin and fall onto his stomach… your orgasm hits you almost instantly, as intense and violent as his.

"Just for you," sighs Choso desperately seeking to breathe normally again.

You drop down next to him, tired and sore. Your muscles are cramped and you are sure that tomorrow you will have a long day trying to accomplish the mission thanks to the pain your limbs will feel. It is in the midst of the dilemma of what might happen tomorrow that you realize that choso's warmth is gone and this makes you involuntarily lift your head to check where he had gone.

"Babe?" You flare up at the realization of what he is doing. Choso returns to the bed and takes a towel in his hands which he silently uses to wipe your crotch. You are embarrassed and uneasy, though perhaps not as much as he who looks as if he will start to let smoke escape from his ears.

You opt not to add anything else, let him lie down next to you and hug you from behind and cling possessively to his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist, another under your head.

"You're so beautiful." Choso whispers into your hairline after depositing a kiss there.

"Stop it. I'm embarrassed enough."

"I'm sorry," he replies immediately. You both fall silent for a couple of seconds before he adds, "Oh, wait. That means you really like it so I'm not sorry, you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Oh wow. You had created a monster. You hide for a second in the warmth of his arm, waiting for the flame burning your cheeks to cease before turning to face him.

"Hi." He chuckles gently at the sight of your face again. Unable to erase the smile that takes hold of him. "You're still embarrassed?"

"Choso," you growl, looking up at him from underneath with eyes full of excitement.

"I'm-just telling the truth. You're really beautiful, I'm so lucky to have you with me."

Maybe if you move away from him you can breathe for a moment and let your thoughts flow again, because being so close in that mixture of his sweat and his perfume you can't think straight, you can barely breathe.

"I love you." You let it out suddenly, without thinking too hard. Your tongue breaks free of your self-control to give voice to a feeling you've known since the moment you met Choso.

Choso kisses your forehead, then your nose. And before too much time passes that makes you think this was a mistake;

"I love you too." He assures you. And he couldn't be more sure of that.

[rieamena]

I wonder at what point in the "reboot saga" would the other cunning hares step in and help Billy? Like, on one hand you have a convenient way to stop Billy from whatever he is doing, and watching how Y/N is trying to confess without crashing him must be entertaining. On the other after crash 65 it must get worrying :/

finally!—

the first few crashes had been amusing, a source of lighthearted teasing among the group. you’d attempt to confess, and billy, ever the charismatic and responsive robot, would suddenly freeze, eyes flickering as his system struggled to process the influx of data. the scene would end with him rebooting, and the cycle would start anew. after the first couple of crashes, the laughter faded into concern

“i don’t get it,” you muttered, sprawled out on the couch in the cunning hares' common room. “why does he keep crashing? it’s just a confession.”

“he’s not built to handle that kind of emotional intensity,” nicole explained, fiddling with the handles on his jacket, metal body limp after yet another of your failed confessions. “his programming is complex, but at the core, it’s still a machine trying to process human emotions.”

“and you’re very special to him,” anby added, smiling gently. “that makes it even harder for his system to cope.”

the three of you brainstormed solutions, testing different approaches and environmental controls. they installed cooling systems, tweaked his software, and even practiced mock confessions. yet, each time you poured your heart out to billy, his system would crash and reboot, leaving you both in a loop of unfinished sentences and unspoken feelings

one night, after crash number seventy two—a number that was only devised due to your intricate logs of attempted confessions in your mini journal—the serious gravity of the situation hit everyone. billy’s constant reboots were taking a toll on his system, and the risk of permanent damage was becoming too great to ignore

“this has to stop,” nicole declared, her voice heavy with determination. “we need to find a way to get through to him without causing another crash.”

after much debate, the team devised a new strategy. it wasn’t just about cooling fans and air conditioners; it was about creating a space where billy could process his emotions without the threat of overload. they set up a room specifically for this purpose, equipped with not just temperature controls but also calming visuals and sounds designed to keep billy’s system stable

the designated spot was meticulously prepared. soft lighting filled the room, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. the hum of air conditioners and strategically placed fans ensured the environment was cool. in the center of the room, billy sat on a cushioned chair, looking a bit puzzled but the aura he exuded was always happy

anby gave you a reassuring nod as she adjusted a fan to blow directly at billy. "remember, y/n, stick to the script and stay calm. we’re right here with you."

you took a deep breath and approached billy, your heart pounding. "hey, billy," you greeted, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach

"hey, [name]," he replied, the crescents of his eyes lighting up the room. "what’s up?"

you clutched the script tightly, glancing at the words one last time before looking up at him. "billy, there’s something i’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time. it’s been on my mind, and i need you to know."

billy’s eyes widened slightly, his full attention on you. you continued, your voice soft but clear, following the script's guidance. "you mean a lot to me, more than just a friend. whenever i’m with you, everything feels brighter and better. your laughter, your kindness, the way you always know how to make me smile. i cherish every moment we spend together."

billy blinked, processing your words. the fans hummed softly, maintaining a cool breeze. you took another deep breath, steadying yourself. "billy, i like you. a lot. more than just a friend. i care about you deeply, and i wanted you to know how i feel."

for a moment, there was silence. billy’s eyes flickered, and you held your breath, waiting for the familiar signs of a reboot, slower movement, glitched speech, loss of composure, but instead, his eyes displayed bright red hearts

"[name]," he said softly, reaching out to take your hand. "i… i like you too. more than just a friend." nicole crept over to a cooling fan close to him, cranking up its power

unfortunately, the slip of paper didn't have any more words to refer to so you had to improvise. "so does this mean we're like, dating now?"

"are we really?! we're dating now?!" billy jumped up from his seat, practically oozing excitement and happiness, "wait, but i've never had a partner before. what if i do something wrong? what if you don't like me anymore?!" he shook your shoulders, speaking a mile a minute, ranting about all the things he could do wrong and all the things that could go wrong

"also, it's really cold in here, i can almost feel my metal constricting! can we turn the thermostat up or something?"

you couldn't help but laugh. "one step at a time, billy. let's start with the thermostat."

you finally got billy kid after seventy two reboots, and boy, wasn't it rewarding.

its actually so embarassing how long this took and its not even good....

billy kid taglist

@pedrosimp137 @mary-moongood @nyxin-lynx @lemonboy011 @eisblume77

@amaryllisenvy @megan017 @astral-spacepumpkin @corrupted-tale @inkycap

@thurstonw @plapsha @lavenderthewolf @kurakusun @vitaevaaa

@sweetadonisbutbetter @cobraaah @mochiitoby @clickingchip @bardivislak

@h3r6c00k13 @cozi-cofee @apestegui-y @luvuyuuji @theitdoitnobody

@fersitaam @cathrnxxo @monkepawbz @fl1ghtl3ssdrag0n @dabislilbaby

@many-names-yuna @muffin1304 @doort @j3llycarnival @juuanna

@discipleofthem @spookylorekeep @wazkalia @miaubrebmiau @hersweetsstrawberry

[stuffedteen]

A Bro-Tastic Saga

This is the story of Blaine, Carter, and Mason, three frat bros whose lives were forever changed by a mysterious and magical brew. Their tale began with a secret recipe, and the desire to be the kings of the frat house.

Blaine, the charismatic leader of the trio, had a thing for big guys. He had found a special brew of beer online that would turn Carter & Mason into the bros of his dreams. All he needed to do was to get each of them to drink one cup, and then the beer would take it from there...

"Guys," Blaine said, "I've got a special brew thats gonna take this party to the next level."

Carter and Mason exchanged puzzled looks. Mason spoke up, his voice tinged with curiosity, "What's the brew, Blaine?"

Blaine leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial, "We're gonna get so drunk off this beer bros! I've got this recipe from my uncle. It's a secret family formula. We'll call it 'Doughboys Beer."

The plan was set in motion. The party raged on, and Carter and Mason down their first cups of Doughboys. The frat house was filled with laughter, music, and shirtless frat bros. Little did anyone know that Blaine had laced the brew with a touch of magic.

Over time, the effects of Doughboys Beer became increasingly apparent. Carter and Mason began to pack on the pounds. Their once-toned bodies gave way to soft guts that seemed to grow by the minute.

Carter rubbed his expanding belly, letting out a satisfied burp, "Man, I've been eating like a horse lately."

Mason patted his own soft gut, "Yeah, me too. What's happening, guys?"

Blaine, feigning innocence, shrugged, "Must be all those late-night pizzas, dudes."

The transformation continued, their softness becoming more pronounced, but what truly fascinated the bros were the newfound desires they couldn't quite explain.

Carter looked at Mason, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar attraction, "You ever feel...different around Blaine?"

Mason nodded, "Yeah, dude. It's like, I can't take my eyes off him."

Blaine couldn't help but grin, his plan working even better than he had hoped, "Guess it's just my charm, guys."

Their infatuation with Blaine only grew as they continued to consume Doughboys Beer. The two bros became lazier, spending their days lounging on the couch, munching on snacks, and craving the magical brew that seemed to have them under its spell. All while obsessing over Blaine and his god-like fit body.

Carter looked at Mason, his voice dripping with desire, "Man, I can't get enough of this beer. It's like it's calling me."

Mason agreed, "You're right, dude. We need more Doughboys Beer."

Their desires had shifted, and their craving for Blaine and the magical brew consumed their thoughts.

Blaine, in the know about the beer's enchanting properties, decided to take advantage of the situation. He encouraged their growing desire, all while maintaining his own physique for them to worship. But he stayed well clear of consuming any of the special brew himself.

One night, as the three bros were hanging out at another rager, Carter and Mason decided to hatch a plan of their own. They couldn't resist the allure of the beer any longer, and it was time to introduce Blaine to the magical elixir he had created.

Carter and Mason exchanged knowing glances and shared a chuckle. Blaine was going to taste the very brew he had concocted and used to control them.

Mason slapped Blaine on the back and practically poured the cup into Blaine's mouth, "Hey, man, you've gotta try this beer. It's epic."

Carter chimed in, "It's like, it tastes so good, dude. It will change your life."

As the magical brew touched his lips, he felt a warmth spreading through his body, followed by an overwhelming sense of desire. His senses tingled with a newfound attraction, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from Carter and Mason.

Carter leaned in, his voice low and seductive, "You feelin' it, Blaine?"

Blaine nodded, "Yeah, guys, this is amazing."

Mason joined in, "We've got more. Let's party."

The three of them drank and laughed, their inhibitions vanishing with each sip. Blaine was now under the spell of the very brew he had created, and he couldn't resist the allure of his transformed bros.

As the night wore on, Blaine's body began to change, his once-toned physique giving way to a soft, doughy middle. His t-shirt stretched across his expanding waistline, and his once-defined abs were replaced by a burgeoning belly.

Carter and Mason watched with amusement, their desires growing stronger as they saw the changes in their once-fit leader. Blaine's attraction to them intensified, and he couldn't resist their allure. He was under their spell, just as they had once been under his.

Carter looked at Mason, his voice tinged with desire, "Man, I can't get enough of this beer. It's like it's calling me."

Mason agreed, "You're right, dude. We need more Doughboys Beer."

Their plan had worked. Blaine was now under the enchantment of the beer, and the power dynamic had shifted. He had become just as addicted to the magical brew as they were.

In the days that followed, Blaine, Carter, and Mason continued their life of indulgence, their desires and cravings entwined in a way they could never have imagined. The frat house parties were wilder than ever, and Doughboys Beer remained their secret, a source of their cravings and desires.

Blaine had unwittingly joined the ranks of the transformed, becoming just as addicted and infatuated with his two bros as they were with him. They had become a trio bound by their shared addiction.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, their indulgence knew no bounds. They reveled in their transformed physiques and the enchanting power of Doughboys Beer. Their desires grew stronger with each passing day, their cravings unrelenting.

Their once-toned bodies had become soft and doughy, their once-healthy habits replaced by a relentless pursuit of the magical brew. Blaine, Carter, and Mason had fallen completely under its spell, and the frat house was their kingdom of indulgence.

[scourgeblooms]

wanted to do a physical timeline for my commander and highlight how he’s changed through the years. this is mostly for my own entertainment BUT I do enjoy seeing the same thing from other folks so I’m posting it here in the hopes that other people share my sentiment. 

(I was ALSO totally inspired by @/manasurge’s hair timeline. it kicks ass. go look at it.) 

elaboration/rambling below the cut!

Personal Story, LW1-2: Popped out of the pod blunt, solicitous, and already maybe a little too paranoid for someone who was born yesterday, but all those traits made him uniquely qualified for a position in military leadership.  Healthy and floral, soft aspen-bark-like skin, delicate petals. black anthers produce pollen. undergoes more fashion changes than physical transformations during this time. gets a little banged up here and there (and maybe has some lasting respiratory effects from the toxic alliance era) but overall feelin a-okay. 

Heart of Thorns: it’s all gone to shit. took a spectacular headdive in both a physical and mental sense with breakneck speed. never “officially” answered mordremoth’s call, but anyone who spent time around him would notice a distinct lack of self control and logical thinking. took on a more sickly pallor, stress caused leaves to shrivel, rot, and decay. lost his lil flower top notch and ability to produce pollen. pupils narrowed to take on a more animalistic look, and enamel growth resulted in sharper, larger teeth. fingers also elongated into claws. never fully physically and mentally recovered from the hell jungle. 

LW3: chopped off most of his leaves to encourage fresh growth. lots of physical healing during this time, though it takes quite a while for his complexion to fully recover. takes on the role of aurene’s champion with gusto. relatively unaffected by bloodstone, but feels the effects of mordremoth’s loose/uncontrolled magic deeply. continues to hear mordremoth’s “voice” and is diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. 

Path of Fire: still healing from HoT. continues to grow out his leaves. glow returns, as well as some of his eye color. likes the crystal desert, but finds the harsh, dry climate to be particularly challenging; he’s definitely more of a ‘temperate’ sylvari. does not handle dying well. death only adds to his paranoia and psychosis. has an increasingly hard time picking apart what is real and what is…. not. 

LW4: let’s get ready to kill an undead lich!!!! absorbs even more magic after the death of joko and kralkatorrik, and it starts to show in a there-and-gone shimmery aura that takes on a similar appearance to ley lines. starts to suffer from migraine auras. flower top notch grows back, but stays closed and dormant. picks up a few nifty necromancy tricks from the elonians, and the tips of his fingers start to show signs of necrotic decay; all that death magic can’t be good for the complexion, can it? 

Icebrood Saga: having another dragon in his head does not help his mental health in the slightest. braided leaves (courtesy of braham <3) to protect against frostbite. his ley “aura” gets more intense, hard to miss, and is a near constant. flower topnotch remains closed due to the cold weather conditions. after being shot by bangar, his wound is covered/healed by aurene’s brand. migraines increase in frequency, makes it difficult for him to focus. a bone deep exhaustion starts to set in, and more often than not, he catches himself thinking that a nice long nap underneath a blanket of snow doesn’t sound so terrible….

End of Dragons: back in a more agreeable climate, his topnotch finally blooms, but does not grow anthers or produce pollen. easily physically corrupted by void magic, and he feels soo-won’s pain and struggle deeply. the void corruption eventually shows up in the form of darkening leaves, and seeping out of his eyes/tearducts (it’s fine. don’t worry about it.). starts to incorporate chaos magic into his own necromancy practices. has a fucking terrible time in gyala delve. has a fucking terrible time saying goodbye to aurene. 

Secrets of the Obscure: nothing feels entirely real to him anymore. still willing to help, to fight, but it’s done on autopilot at this point. this magical, floating palace in the sky looks and feels like a dream, with the kryptis acting as the encroaching, inevitable turn to a real, living nightmare. still uses a bit of leftover void in his magical practices, but most of the corruption has left his system. that respiratory illness he picked up back in kessex hills comes back to bite him in nayos. finally grows back his anthers, but instead of producing pollen, it's an outlet for void/magic energy.

[kayslibrary]

Simon Riley's hair obsession (Simon X black reader)

Hi guys! This break was completely unprecedented (it will probably happen again). I just checked my last post date and it was JANUARY 21ST????? I did NOT mean to step away for that long lmaoo But im back! I wanted to dabble in the Cod fandom but I’m a little intimidated idk. There are a lot of different archetypes of the characters, and im a little nervous I won’t do the characters justice or portray them correctly so please give me feedback and or/ KIND critiques if you please! 

Im gonna start my Task Force 141 saga off with Simon (whose surprised lol) and this is gonna be paired with a black afab reader so ENJOY PPL

Warnings~fluff,, Simon being a lovestruck fool

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon likes your hair. No, Simon  LOVES your hair. That was one of the first things he noticed when you two first met. When you two were in the earlier stages of dating, he would just stare at your curls. “Beautiful, full curls,” he thought to himself as you would go on about your conversations. Now that you both were living under the same roof, He knows what goes into keeping your hair from frizz and tangles and how much it takes to maintain it. 

“Baby, can you pass me the edge control?” you requested from your shared bedroom, “what control?” He inquired, puzzled “The edge….the blue jar with the black lid on it” “The lid that's hard to open,” he asked as he walked in with 5 bottles and jars cradled in his arms. “Yess that one” you giggled,  pacing over to him to grab the one you were looking for. “This one” you smiled as you nab it from Simon. 

Other times Simon would sit on the bed and gaze at you in awe (homeboy is WHIPPEDD) “Yes Simon?” you groaned at the pain in your arms “Nothing baby doll, continue on” he smiled “Right…FUCK!” the rubberband that you’ve been finagling with popped “baby what's wrong?” he practically teleports to your side. “The stupid rubber band popped ugh” you fume with frustration. “It’s okay honey..here let me help” Simon offers as he puts your hair into a ponytail. “Is this good?” “This is more than good..thank you baby” you sigh with relief. 

To add to that thought, Simon is a big helper!!! Wash days once took 4 hours but now it took 2 hours thanks to the extra help. Like imagine you both in the shower getting clean and you both take turns washing each other's hair??  SO CUTE “Baby you know I can do this myself” Your eyes roll to the back of your skull with please as Simon scratches at the right places “I know but I want to help you. I enjoy it as much as you do” he snorts as the water cascades from the showerhead onto you both. 

OH YEA, you definitely caught him watching those ‘how to care for kinky hair’ videos sometimes, you find it admirable that he would take the time to educate himself apart from what you tell him. “Wanna help out more” he kisses you with devotion because let's be real HE WHORESHIPS THE GROUND YOU WALK ONNNN. 

Before you, he didn’t know the first thing about protective styles, different hair products for your hair, how to wrap it at night but now that hes with you, he understands and for you guys anniversary he surprised you with a heap of gifts BUT ALSO surprised you by braiding your hair for you. Who needs a hair salon when you have one built into your partner (huge money saver LMAOO) 

In conclusion, I think Simon Riley would be OBSESSED with your hair whether it be in braids, out and about, or straight. “You look good in everything, hell you could be bald. I’d still love you the same” he’d grin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author note- i love this? Hello? 10/10 crumbs and the table are GONE. i love simon but i am a rudy girl what can i say IMMA WRITE FOR HIM NEXT WATCHHHH but yea its good for me to get back into my groove. Glad to be back pookies be safe wherever you are!! Bye now!!

[mandachuart]

THE SAGA CONTINUES....

I can't be stopped okay. I am having TOO MUCH FUN. SOMEONE TAKE AWAY MY TABLET I'M OUT OF CONTROL

[aetherdecember]

Look, I love BBC Merlin and how they told the lore, but I’m a sucker for the relationship between Arthur and Mordred in the mythology. Specifically, I love how Mary Stewart (author of The Arthurian Saga**) and Nancy Springer (author of I Am Mordred**) wrote about the father/son relationship between them. So naturally, my brain has been conjuring up how I can include that in my Flipping the Coin au.

Since the main premise is Merlin died/Arthur lives, and now Arthur is the one waiting for Merlin to come back, things would stay consistent with canon up to the last episode (when Merlin flips the coin of their destiny and sacrifices himself so Arthur can live and thus stop Camlann from happening altogether). Which is where this idea will start:

Gwen is barren. She and Arthur never have kids. Eventually, everyone Arthur knows and loves dies. He can’t rule Camelot forever, and after Gwen’s death, he no longer wants to, so he fakes his death and wanders off figure out why he’s still here. He never gets an answer for that. Arthur spends the next millennium waiting. He keeps living. He meets people, experiences things he’d never experienced before, and learns things he’d never dreamed of learning. He can’t stay anywhere long, or else suspicions will rise, but he gets to see the world change, how technology advances, and witness humans continuing to be humans. When war breaks out, he joins the battle. It’s familiar. The rush of adrenaline is the same whether he’s wielding a sword or a gun. Only, he can’t see the enemy’s face anymore.

Peace comes again. At some point, he sleeps with a woman, and she happens to become pregnant. Bisexual disaster that he is, he’s had all sorts of partners from both sexes, but has never had this happen, even before the advent of reliable birth control. Later, he’ll learn her name is Morgause. She doesn’t look like the Morgause he knew before, nor does she act like her, but her name haunts him. After the baby is born, she gives him to Arthur, says she has no intentions of being a mother, and leaves. The last thing she had said to him was the baby’s name.

Mordred.

That night, Arthur holds Mordred and weeps.

There is irony in his son being named Mordred. First, in that the legends surrounding him, Merlin, Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, and all of it, had long ago decided Mordred was his son. And two, in a retelling of that legend, it had aptly phrased what he sensed was happening now. Granted, he isn’t a sorcerer, he doesn’t have magic, so he can’t support his feeling with anything other than he’d been around a long time and knew to his very core that it was true. Mordred’s birth is a signal of the beginning of the end.

Fatherhood brings him a new sense of purpose. Gone are the days of loneliness and drudgery. Every day with Mordred brings a new light into his life. Each smile is a miracle. Seeing Mordred experience things for the first time brings a new appreciation. Being there to watch him grow makes time fly like it never has before. But Arthur is afraid. He doesn’t want to be his father. He doesn’t know how to be a father, or what the right way to do it is. In all the years he’s been on the Earth, he’s never known a man who could concretely say, “This is the way to raise a son,” and actually reap the fruits of their efforts. Too frequently, he’d seen sons grow outside of the visions their fathers molded for them and receive only disappointment and disdain in return. So he was afraid, because he too had been that son.

*cue a series of fluffy father/son one shots of Arthur raising Mordred until Merlin comes back, takes one look, and is is like WTF????? No, I won’t have Mordred for a step son >:(*

**Mary Stewart and Nancy Springer have several other works, not just the stories I mentioned. The ones mentioned are the ones I’m pulling inspiration from ^^

Additional notes below the break:

Guinevere’s barrenness is not a headcanon I typically subscribe to for BBC Merlin. My headcanon is that after Arthur’s death, Gwen gives birth, and their child eventually succeeds her as ruler.

I’ve always seen Mordred’s appearance as the harbinger of Arthur’s downfall. Thus, the reason for the plot bunnies in my brain going crazy with this idea of how I could bring him in, still remain mostly canon compliant with BBC Merlin, and build off some of my favorite parts of the lore. (Mandatory disclaimer: for BBC Merlin, I don’t headcanon Mordred as Arthur’s son. But for the mythology, I do wholeheartedly support that canon.)

Arthur’s choice to participate and live once Camelot is gone is a decision to contrast my headcanon of how Merlin handled it. I don’t think Merlin thrived. I think he stayed busy, and tried to remain hopeful, but I think he was anxiously consumed with the anticipation of wondering when Arthur would come back. In this au, Arthur may or may not know that Merlin is supposed to come back (I’m still working on that detail), but he’s always been around others. I think he would seek camaraderie, and companionship, and that he would connect with others but only to a superficial level. I don’t think he’d exist in a void of loneliness. Plus, he doesn’t have the guilt of knowing he failed because the pressure from the prophecy is very one sided *coughcough*causemerlinnevertoldhim*coughcough*

Anyways, that’s enough rambling from me about this. I’ll probably share some snippets of writing next because there are some fantastic scenes coming together in the draft so stay tuned! ;D

[positivelybeastly]

From the Ashes Infinity Comics #15: Pygmalion, Part 1

So, for those who are not aware - Infinity Comics are online-only comics distributed through Marvel Unlimited, their subscription based app and browser collection of comics. Regarded as 'inessential,' but still very much canon, the raft of Infinity Comics coming out of From the Ashes have been quite good, but I haven't seen fit to comment on them for a bit, until now, because . . .

Let's go.

For those not aware, Pygmalion is a famous novel by George Bernard Shaw, detailing the attempt by a phonetics professor called Henry Higgins to 'elevate' a Cockney flower-girl named Eliza Doolittle.

Intrigued by a bet that he could pass her off as a duchess through careful schooling, he decides to take her on, and though he succeeds, she ends up feeling marginalised and overlooked, treated as an object of gambling and curiosity rather than an individual in her own right, and though the play is best known for the 'culturing' of Eliza Doolittle, it is as much about the arrogance of Higgins, who is a thoroughly unpleasant and rude individual, in thinking that he has any ownership over Eliza for his education of her. He may have 'created' her, but he does not control her.

The Factory that the X-Men are living in at present must have really good central heating for Cyclops to be wearing basketball shorts and a crop top that short.

Beast is currently investigating some kind of issue with Magneto's chromosomes - to put it succinctly, he appears to be ageing rapidly, and does not have access to his X-gene at present. This is a continuation of the storyline in the previous Infinity arc, which focused on Magneto.

Something worth noting - this is the first acknowledgement of the fact that though Hank's body may be of roughly the same physical age as his original, his mind is considerably younger, situated at some point in his mid 20s. For someone who was always the oldest of the original X-Men, this is fairly significant.

Also worth noting - Hank joins the ranks of superheroes who are actively seeking therapy for their problems! Good on you, Hank! And good on you, too, Scott, for suggesting it. Though, perhaps, given recent developments in the mainline X-Men comics, you should take your own advice . . .

The fact that Hank refers to himself as the only one left seemingly confirms that X-Force took care of the Beast clones who Beast Prime planted around various landmarks as part of the Ghost Calendars arc. Though they were defeated in their respective future timelines, I wasn't quite sure if they had been taken care of in the present as well. This seemingly confirms that they were.

Hank's therapist is Dr. Andrea Sterman, a supporting character from Jed MacKay's Moon Knight run, and a member of the Midnight Mission. Given that the writer, Alex Paknadel, confirmed on Twitter that he talked with Jed MacKay about making sure all the details for Hank's storyline would line up with the mainline X-Men book, I can only imagine this was done as a rather fun continuity nod.

Hank also refers to a Shi'ar warship, an avian alien race that the X-Men deal with on a regular basis. This makes sense, given that Hank was beamed aboard the Shi'ar imperial flagship during the events of Dark Phoenix Saga in 1981 - ancient history for us, but relatively fresh in Hank's mind, given his memories come from 1985.

Hank, naturally, does himself a disservice here. Dark Beast was, assumedly, abducted at a relatively young age from his human parents, and indoctrinated by Mister Sinister as something of a protege - a protege living in perpetual fear of his mentor. He probably didn't have a chance to develop any kind of moral code divorced from the social Darwinist hellhole that is the Age of Apocalypse.

That being said, Hank probably lacks that context, and Dark Beast is unique among Age of Apocalypse denizens, not just for his unerringly cruel nature, having never shown any altruistic tendencies (unlike, say, AoA Cyclops or Nightcrawler), but also for his resilience. He persists, even now - though last seen in Immortal X-Men #9 as a head in a jar, he has come back from the dead at least twice before, and it is unlikely he is gone for good.

Fun fact - his appearance here is based on the costume he wore during his scrap with Emma Frost's X-Men team in a confrontation with Spider-Man and the Lizard. Though the X-Men naturally encountered him after this point, it's fun that this appearance by Dark Beast is considered iconic enough to be the 'definitive' look for him by this comic.

Hank's final remark, about 'Henry McCoy plus time equals atrocity,' is a sentiment often repeated on social media boards, and it's interesting to see it being internalised by Hank himself, given his unique perspective on the events that created his future self and the other potential timelines the X-Men files likely refer to.

Mm. A lot to unpack here.

Hank's relationship with his X-gene has always been complicated, and the way he views it here, as essentially morphing him into a shape that he finds abhorrent, predatory, and beyond his control, is consistent with how Hank seemed to see himself during his feline mutation, which lasted from 2000 to 2013.

Though his feline phase is not referenced in this comic, beyond the 'over time, and with a little help, these became more pronounced,' (probably a reference to Sage's jumpstarting his secondary mutation) it assumedly would be in the files Hank has been using to catch up, and one has to wonder if he's been repeating some of the thought processes that made feline Hank such a uniquely neurotic version of the character.

It's also nice to see a canonisation of my long held fanon that Hank's X-gene is actively attempting to craft a form for him that is best suited for survival, a belief that Hank only hinted at back in Morrison's New X-Men, but which made sense, given the circumstances of his mutation in X-Treme X-Men.

That being said, Hank's own mind seemingly strays back to the night his furry mutation first manifested at the Brand Corporation in Amazing Adventures, where he flew into a berserker rage and nearly killed Carl Maddicks, which always seemed a little incongruous with how Hank was written in subsequent appearances in Avengers and Defenders, but which now seems to be retroactively made an expression of the brutality he was capable of during his feline phase.

The 'violent upheavals' Hank refers to here are likely his initial secondary mutation, and then his near-death experience when said mutation randomly destabilised in All-New X-Men. It could also be a reference to his numerous genetic troubles during X-Factor volume 1.

His opining that he found refuge in the life of the mind is very reminiscent of Hank's desire to find meaning in poetry, literature, art, humanity, in the wake of the changes in his body in both X-Factor and New X-Men. X-Factor #33 and New X-Men #117 both specifically reference his delight in the freedom to think, in opposition to the clouding of the mind that came with his Pestilence inflicted dumbing down, or his newly awakened predatory impulses.

Ironically enough, Magneto is, aside from Simon Williams, the character with whom this version of Hank has shared the most panel time and dialogue, between his conversations in X-Men and previous From the Ashes Infinity Comics. It would appear that Max's need for a cure for his condition are fostering a necessarily stronger bond than Hank and Max have ever shared before in canon.

Precisely where the rest of the team is during the course of these events is unknown. If I had to guess, it's possible this might be set during the events of X-Men #2, where the rest of the team was attending to a mutant rescue in San Francisco, accounting for the lack of availability of the Marauder and a reliance on an old Quinjet.

Quite how Hank got his hands on said Quinjet is unknown, though it's possible it might be a holdover from Hank's Defender days, where he would regularly borrow a Quinjet from the Avengers, for purposes ranging from actual superhero missions to attending Patsy Walker's wedding.

Though this Hank's memories originate in closest proximity to the Defenders, and though that team did enjoy some degree of notoriety under Hank and Candy Southern's stewardship, the Avengers have always been where Hank was most popular in-universe, and he has had a habit of using that association to smooth things over in mutant related books, such as in X-Factor volume 1 and the 90s X-Men run.

Unfortunately, mutant rights are in a more dire state than ever before, with things having seemingly gotten only worse for them since the 1980s, and it's likely Hank didn't expect this level of hatred from normal civilians.

I have, unfortunately, run out of images, so I'll be posting the last of this issue and my final thoughts and predictions in another post.

[unclewaynemunson]

The edancy siblings saga continues! | AO3 link

So, in case it hasn't been made absolutely clear yet: Eddie is not a stalker. He is not stalking Karen and Nancy Wheeler. That is not what's happening here. Seriously. They just... appear wherever he goes, lately. Like on the other side of a window when he's in town with Jeff, headed to the record store to spend their Saturday morning listening to the newly released Motörhead album.

It happens before he really knows what he's doing. He can't even help it, he's just like that sometimes: he'll panic and make dumb decisions as a consequence. It's not even a real decision, this time; blame it on his poor impulse control. He's nothing but an unwilling participant in this situation.

'Eddie, no,' Jeff quietly protests.

Eddie, yes, Eddie's brain loudly counters.

'We're having brunch here whether you want it or not,' he blurts out while pressing the menu in Jeff's hand.

He doesn't think he has ever had brunch in his life – unless having a coffee and a cigarette with Wayne at 12pm on a Saturday counts.

But here he is, about to have brunch in some fancy way-too-expensive looking cafe because he saw a mother and her daughter through a window and his own feet decided to disconnect from his brain and take matters into their own hands. Or rather into their own feet. Or, well, not their feet, his feet don't have feet, that'd be weird as fuck.

Anyway. Apparently he and Jeff are about to have brunch together, with Karen and Nancy Wheeler perfectly lined up in Eddie's vision.

It's a place where neither Eddie nor Jeff would want to be found dead under any normal circumstances. The interior consists of various shades of pink and beige, there are plastic flowers and pink napkins on every table, and the menu on the wall is written in letters so curly that they're barely even readable. The whole place is filled with people from places like Loch Nora and Maple Street, wearing expensive clothes and with even more expensive handbags on the floor next to their chairs. A group of giggling girls that Eddie recognizes as sophomore cheerleaders is sitting in one corner, an old lady with a bunch of blonde nieces or grandchildren in another one, and spread out across the room are countless couples that are all made up of women looking like they just walked out of a copy machine matched with equally bland and bored looking men in button-up shirts. And, among those people, right behind Jeff's shoulder, the woman and the girl who Eddie is very much not stalking.

'What the hell are we doing here, man?' Jeff hisses under his breath. Eddie doesn't quite know who, between the two of them, looks more out of place in here: the trailer park metalhead or the black nerd in the Star Wars shirt.

'Having brunch,' Eddie states, like it's not only obvious but also a perfectly normal thing for them to do. He's not really looking at Jeff, but rather staring right over his friend's shoulder. He tries to imagine himself somewhere at that table; it conjures a truly laughable image in his head.

Jeff is right: what the hell is he doing here? He keeps finding himself on the fringe of a life that will never be his anyway.

'Eddie?'

It sounds worried; Eddie rapidly blinks a few times to get himself back to earth, back to his own table. The one he's sharing with Jeff, who looks at him like he's afraid that Eddie will tell him he has some incurable illness and will die a tragic death within weeks.

'You wanna tell me what's going on?'

But before Eddie can even begin to answer that, they're interrupted by a woman in a pink apron who looks at them from behind her glasses like she's ready to call the cops on them.

'Would you boys like to order something?' she asks in a tone that doesn't conceal very well how desperately she wants the answer to be no.

'Just a coffee, please, ma'am,' Jeff says, at the exact same time Eddie tells her they'll both have 'The brunch special, please, with extra scrambled eggs and bacon.'

He can barely suppress a yelp when Jeff kicks him underneath the table.

The waitress shoots an annoyed, yet slightly helpless, look back and forth between the two boys.

Eddie gives Jeff a pigheaded glance and repeats his order with emphasis.

'What the hell is this all about?' Jeff hisses at him as soon as the waitress has her back turned to them. 'I know you don't have the money for that, I'm not gonna pay for this huge fucking breakfast, dude!'

Eddie widens his eyes while pushing his lower lip forward, causing Jeff to give him another painful kick against his shin – but also to sigh with his head in his hands, which Eddie immediately recognizes as the ultimate sign of defeat.

'Okay, then. But only if you tell me why the hell we're here.'

Almost subconsciously, Eddie brings his hand up to his mouth and starts gnawing at his already chewed-off fingernails. His curls have finally reached shoulder-length, and he likes the way he can hide behind his hair now.

The thing is, he has never talked about this with anyone ever before. He doesn't know if he can. It's not even like he believes he owes Karen Wheeler any of her secrets; of course he doesn't. He simply feels like it's too big to talk about. He cannot foresee the consequences of letting the truth out. Right now, it's just this thing constantly simmering right beneath the surface of his brain; if he actually talks about it with someone, it will undoubtedly become much, much more than that. It'll become something real – something ugly.

Apparently, Jeff catches him staring, because he turns around in his seat to look over his shoulder.

When he whips his head back, his eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly agape.

'Dude,' he says, slowly. 'You can only deny it so many times; you do have a crush on Nancy Wheeler!'

Eddie groans and buries his head in his hands.

'Oh my God, please never say that ever again.'

'Holy fuck.' Something resembling malicious glee is coloring Jeff's voice. 'You totally–'

'I said,' Eddie emphatically hisses at him between clenched teeth, 'never say that again.'

'Dude, you should totally ask her out! I'd give you a two percent chance she says yes, but if the gods are willing to grant us that miracle, it'll give me a chance to get closer to Barbara! You should–'

Eddie can't take it any more, not one word of this. He has to put a stop to this right now.

'Remember how I told you I never knew who my mother is?' he blurts out, the words stringing together too fast and his voice slightly too high.

Jeff's face instantly changes into one big question mark.

'Look at her – at Nancy,' Eddie tells him in a hushed voice. 'And at Mrs. Wheeler.'

Jeff dares another glance over his shoulder. Nancy and her mother don't seem to notice a thing about the two metalheads three tables away from them. They're caught up in what looks like a nice and easygoing conversation, full of smiles while they're sipping from large glasses filled with ginger tea.

'Now look at me.'

Jeff looks at Eddie for a full five seconds, neither of them saying a word.

'Dude...' Jeff finally all but whispers. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

Before Eddie can even do so much as nod, the waitress appears out of thin air next to them and ungracefully dumps two huge plates filled with a whole arrangement of breakfast foods on their table.

'Nooooo,' is all Jeff says after the waitress has disappeared, his voice dropped down to a conspiring whispering volume. He stretches out the single syllable into eternity. 'No way. Mrs. Wheeler?! How the fuck is that even possible? Are you, like, sure about it?'

Eddie nods. 'Wayne told me,' he confesses. 'Back when my dad got locked up and I came to live with him. He was the only one who knew. Thought he owed it to me to tell me the truth.'

'Jesus Christ,' Jeff says in-between two huge bites from a croissant that's crumbling all over his lap.

'I know, right,' Eddie murmurs.

'So are we like... Watching them?' he asks with a raised brow. 'You do this often?'

'No, man!' Eddie quickly ensures him. 'Not, like, actively, at least,' he adds, feeling a bit embarrassed. He shoves some more eggs into his mouth to buy himself some more time.

'I dunno why I seem to enjoy hurting myself so much,' he finally explains when his mouth is empty again. 'Whenever I see any of 'em, I just... Can't seem to look away. And I can't help but wonder what it would've been like if she'd made another decision eighteen years ago. I know it's ridiculous, because if she had, Ted Wheeler would never have married her, so those three kids wouldn't even have existed, and it would've been me and her against the world or some bullshit.' He sighs again. 'I know it doesn't make any fucking sense. I'm dwelling on things that aren't even real.'

When he looks up from his toast, he sees Jeff giving him this look that kinda makes him regret sharing anything. He doesn't want to be pitied, for fuck's sake.

'Nah, I get it more than you think, man,' Jeff says quietly. 'I always think about what it would be like if my dad was still here, y'know. It's not just the big moments, when people tell me he'd be proud of me or some shit like that. It's especially in the little moments. The everyday kinda shit. I wonder if he'd have shared music with me, if he'd read the same books as I do, if he'd ever help my mom go grocery shopping, what it would be like if he helped me with my homework... It's only natural that you do that, I think. Maybe we all do it, to a certain extent; rewrite history a little bit in our heads.' He gives Eddie a tight, sad smile.

'It's probably even worse for you,' he continues. 'I only see my dad in pictures and I still miss him like hell every single day. But at least I still have my mom to tell the coolest stories about him. I have a grave where I get to mourn him properly. We have all those made-up rituals to commemorate him together. But you – you got none of that. You only got questions that got answered with more questions. And you get to see your mother and your siblings walk around town all the time, knowing that they have no clue who you are.'

Eddie keeps his gaze focused on the crumbs on the table to prevent himself from showing any emotions he doesn't want to show. Damn, what would he be without Jeff and his boundless amounts of wisdom?

'Wait, does she know?' Jeff suddenly asks.

When Eddie looks up, he sees a frown on Jeff's face, like he's worried about something.

'I don't think so,' he answers. 'I ran into her at Melvald's once. Tried to talk to her, just to see what'd happen. Made a complete fool of myself, of course. It was embarrassing as shit, but at least I can be pretty sure she thought I was just some random lunatic.' He sighs. 'But I'll never be entirely sure.'

Three tables over, the Wheeler ladies have finished their tea and are getting up from their seats.

'You're right, it was stupid going here,' Eddie mumbles.

'It's okay, man,' Jeff says, still in that soft voice filled with understanding. 'The food's pretty amazing. We still got plenty of time to go to the record store when we're done with this. Speaking of which... I bet you fifteen dollars to buy Another perfect day that you can't finish your plate before me.'

Eddie stares at him blankly. 'I don't have fifteen dollars.'

Jeff's face breaks out in a wicked grin. 'Well, in that case you better buckle up and finish your eggs real soon, Munson.'

It doesn't entirely take Eddie's mind off the Wheelers, but he appreciates the gesture so he grins and starts viciously attacking a bunch of sausages. And when he spares a glance towards the bar to see the horrified look on the waitress' face, he finds himself unable to hold in his laughter.

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA CONTINUES

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

previously: part 1

next: part 3 part 4 part 5

a continuation because I have no impulse control and am in dire need of more Aeolus content

first of all, let's establish one thing - and I think we can all agree on that - Aeolus loves to fuck with people. they are a benevolent(-ish?) trickster deity, and they revel in harmless pranks

as a consequence, they are on pretty good terms with Hermes. while Hermes doesn't care much for the 'small fry' and doesn't pay that much attention to the wind god most of the time, Aeolus has their winions follow the messenger god religiously (pun intended), because? where Hermes goes, shenanigans always follow.

so when they get the tea that he's apparently hanging out on that one random Greek island, playing nanny? oh, they know it's gotta be good. so naturally, they go to check it out.

well, turns out that Athena is also there, and both of them are sooo bad with babies, it's hilarious

Athena, holding baby!Telemachus: Ehhh, shouldn't it be eating more meat? it's body is so weak, it can't even hold a spear! Hermes, exasperated: oh my me, 'thena, that's not how humans work!! babies eat liquids first!! how can you not know that!! here you go, champ, drink some wine!! Aeolus, hiding in the leaves: holy shit these guys are dumb

so now they can't just leave Telemachus alone with Athena and Hermes! they might not be an expert on child rearing, but surely they can do better than those two dorks! and the baby is adorable.

so they decide to stick around. just for a little bit. a week tops.

fast forward a few years, and they have been raising the prince of Ithaca

Aeolus: *shocked pikachu face*

and Aeolus is the much needed chaotic good influence to Hermes' chaotic neutral and Athena's lawful neutral.

the thing is, Aeolus is really good at hiding. so good, in fact, that no one but Telemachus had even realized they are here. everyone else just thinks that the prince has an invisible friend which, well… they're not wrong?.. and it's not like other kids are exactly lining up to be his friends anyway, cause everyone thinks he's weird (or their parents don't want to catch the attention of the suitors)

and the gods think that it's because they hang around too much and Telemachus can't make friends because of them. so maybe they try to spend less time in Ithaca, for his own good. which only makes things worse, because now the boy is upset, and Aeolus and winions have to try extra hard to cheer him up, which pisses them off.

Athena & Hermes: oh, goodness us, we shall try not to interfere too much with the mortal affairs, so that the young prince grows up healthy and happy ¯_(ツ)_/¯ Telemachus: (T⌓T) Aeolus: ヾ( ･`⌓´･)ﾉﾞ

and then they have to subtle bully the two dumb fucks to come back.

on a less serious note, Aeolus also has a sweet tooth, especially for marshmallows (idgaf there weren't any marshmallows in Mycenaean Greece, they're a god. they can make all the damn marshmallows they want)

and of course, since they are sooo generous, they always share with Telemachus.

what they don't know(?) is that winions, who all get their own treats, also collectively share them with the baby, because they are secretly evil adorable little freaks.

which results in a very hyper prince sugar rushing seemingly out of nowhere.

Telemachus, running all around the palace and crackling madly: I AM SPEED- Penelope, unimpressed: and who, pray tell, had given my son sweets right before dinner? Athena, equally unimpressed: yes, I would also like to know. Hermes, sweating nervously: heyyyy, why are you all looking at me like that???? ( ಠ‿ಠ ) Aeolus, from behind a tree, unseen by anyone: (｡•̀U-)┘

Hermes always gets blamed.

It's the only time he doesn't do the thing

and he's seething, because nobody believes him.

[jungle-angel]

The Face Sitter: Part 2 (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: The saga of yours and Bob's Florida Fuckfest continues

Warnings: SMUT (NO MINORS ALLOWED)

Tagging: @floydsmuse and @attapullman another little piece for Bob Fucks my dears, I leave this in your hands (lol). And also @sylviebell, Sylvie m'dear I may or may not have a Natasha fic coming your way soon (lol)

You and Bob couldn't have been happier down on that little island in the Keys, enjoying the sunshine and finally able to relax. No work, no bullshit and not a care in the world. The rest of the Daggers were more than happy to housesit for the both of you and luckily your assistant classroom teacher offered to take over for your fifth graders, leaving her all the main lesson plans, painting lessons, handwork and other projects and had even let her pick the new chalkboard drawing for when your new main lesson block started.

You and Bob had enjoyed plenty of drinks and delicious seafood at a little place called Hog Heaven Sports Bar, sitting outside at the bar over the pier and watching the ocean roll by. Everything had gone smoothly, but there was a sense of urgency in Bob as you two walked home to your little beach cottage.

"Bob what is with you?" you chuckled.

"Want you tonight sweetheart," he mumbled, pressing his lips against your cheek.

Your whole body buzzed when he kissed you, unable to control it as it went down into your legs. The sense of urgency grew in you as well, the both of you tugging at each other as you walked up the path to the house.

You were barely through the front door before his lips landed on yours, the two of you grabbing and pulling at each other as your kissing became more heated.

"Want you to.......mmmf.......fuck......." Bob mumbled in between kisses. "Want you to sit on my face again."

You laughed a little, gladly pulling him into the bedroom, the two of you falling right to the bed. Bob shinnied his way up so that his head could rest on the pillow, removing his glasses and setting them on the bedstand.

"C'mere sweetpea," he coaxed. "C'mon, there we go.......good girl......my queen, your throne awaits."

You laughed as you lowered yourself onto his face, gripping the headboard to keep your weight from smothering him. You felt goosebumps forming on your skin as his tongue started to form soft little circles inside your puss and Bob's arms hooked themselves around your thighs.

"Oh honey," he groaned. "Want you to cum right on my face.......make me a sweaty mess."

Bob nuzzled into your pussy, eliciting a moan from your throat. You couldn't get over how gentle he was with your sensitive little puss, marking every little nerve and bit of exposed skin with his tongue. Your hips rocked against his face, your breathing growing more rapid as you felt his own blooming between your legs.

You both came with each other with Bob's face once again coated in a sheen of your own slickness. His groans were the sweetest music you had ever heard as he poked his head halfway out from between your legs.

"Baby thank you," he chuckled. You couldn't see his cheeky little grin but you could certainly feel him smiling against your pussy.

You moved yourself off his face before he kissed your cheek, a little embarrassed that he was still coated in your wetness. Ever the king of aftercare, Bob ran a hot bath until it was steaming, taking all the houseplants he could find and making the bathroom look like a jungle pool.

"You didn't have to do this you know," you chuckled, squirting a little bit of the pineapple scented bodywash onto a washcloth.

"Baby when it comes to aftercare, spare no expense," Bob answered.

And neither of you did, relaxing in that bathtub and exploring each other's bodies. Bob giggled a little as your fingertip brushed over his sensitive nips, the two of you perfectly relaxed and content with the world.