#what are they biting? is it meant to be calling a bluff? like oh you're gonne hurt me then bite me go on you wont

[noctomania]

I have smoked a bowl of weed and I have come up with a whole new education system for america so strap in, we go:

First we start off by selecting a special Master of each field, broadly speaking of course. They must go off on their own into nature and build a little hut where nobody knows where they are, and anyone who wants to work in that career field has to prove they really want it by seeking out this Master of the field, of their own volition, and being trained by them in total isolation and secrecy.

when a master dies the replacement must be someone who was trained and approved by the prior master.

colleges and university buildings will be repurposed into free housing to house people who cannot afford other housing.

Alternative idea: It's a race, whoever can reach the location of the Master is the ONLY one who gets to study and be named the new master. In the time the master spends waiting for people to race to find them they must teach 5 different classes via zoom and if they do not achieve and maintain a 99.9% passing rate they will lose a limb. When they run out of limbs they move onto the rest of their family's limbs....

[japhan2024]

What comes next

Anthony and Ian get it on, @lilac-hecox gave me this idea. But ofc I had to make it angsty. Sorry!

Anthony was horny. He was always horny around Ian. Even at his least horny, he was at least a little horny when they were together. But right now, his dong pressed against his pants uncomfortably. Luckily, he was having a great time.

Ian and Anthony were writing. The new sketch was really coming along. Looking at Ian, it seemed to Anthony like he was radiating, glowing with creativity. It was incredible to witness. And as much as it pained him, he had to tone down the more edgy - and therefore funnier - jokes. He would love to see what a truly unchained, unhinged sketch by Ian would look like.

"And then Courtney will say, ohh but I just drank all this delicious mommy milk, I'm not sure if I can handle more." Ian made a duck face and put his index finger on his lower lip, turned around and stuck his ass out at Anthony.

Anthony fidgeted in his office chair. They were at his house, his home office. His damn dick wouldn't chill out and his best friend looked more delicious every day. Of course, in the old days, there had been the many instances Ian had made innuendos and Anthony had called his bluff. Most of the time, Ian would retreat, but when they would be particularly high, he would go further, and further, and before they knew it they would be naked in Anthony's bed. They were regrettably sober today.

"Ian, I would scream laugh if I saw this, but I wouldn't be able to because YouTube would have blocked the video and deleted our channel."

"I know, I just wanted to see your reaction. That look on your face, like you have right now, it's priceless." Ian grinned.

"Oh, shut up. I tell you, you have a nice butt and you work it into every single joke today," Anthony looked at Ian's body, so curvy and inviting...

"If you got it, flaunt it!" Ian retorted and did a goofy fucking dance, making Anthony super annoyed and turned on.

"Ugh, lunch break."

"Alright... but you're into it!"

They sat down at the kitchen table, having what could only be described as a very LA lunch. Gluten-free, vegan bagels with avocado spread. Anthony was still fidgeting, changing the way he sat constantly. Ian looked at him while chewing on his bagel.

"Ohkay, cut it out. What's the matter, my guy?"

"Well, Ian," Anthony began. Dare he admit the truth? Anthony shut his eyes for a brief moment and remembered what he'd learned in therapy.

"Well... Ever since we've gotten back together, I... have noticed how good you look.. and how I would absolutely destroy that bussy." In his last sentence, he used just a little bit of comedy in his intonation, but he meant it absolutely serious.

"Dude, I've seen you looking," Ian responded, a small smile on his face while chewing food and talking at the same time.

"You want it, don't you?"

Ian swallowed his bite and stood up, turned around, and twerked.

"In front of MY salad?!" Anthony protested, pleased with himself. Ian kept twerking, and Anthony just grabbed his butt, held it tightly, and said: "That's quite enough, mister Hecox." He squeezed and almost nutted in his pants.

"Do you want me to put a baby in you?"

"Ew no?"

"I mean my semen, dumbass"

"Ohhh, in that case, yeah."

Anthony gave Ian's ass-cheeks a slap and pulled down his pants.

"Why do you think I keep showing you my ass? I want you to fuck me already! We haven't done it since we've reconciled, it's been too long, damnit."

"You're so willing, aren't you?"

They walked towards Anthony's bedroom but landed on the couch.

"Fuck, have you grown since then? A.. argh yes, oh please be gentle.."

"It has been too damn long. Argh, I need this so badly!"

Anthony saw Ian's hole, his thick ass, though maybe not as thick as before, and he couldn't help but go in full speed.

"Ahh, OH! Anthony..."

"I will, I will."

Anthony slowed down. "You're doing great. Please just breathe in and out, okay? I'm going in fully now."

"Ian I'm gonna come already, you turn me on so much, more than anyone... IAN!!"

Sweat dripped along Anthony's temples, down his chin, on top of Ian's beautiful back.

"Thank you..."

He slid out of Ian, and they walked to the shower to clean up.

"Hey, what's up?"

Anthony was looking down, lip quivering.

"I.. I'm just so frustrated. Why is the best sex in the world, with YOU, not a fertile kind of sex? Why can't we have kids together..."

Ian took Anthony's face in his hand and looked into his caramel eyes.

"Hey, I understand that feeling. But truly, even if I could have children, I wouldn't."

"Why not? Wouldn't our kids be so cute?"

"That they would, you're right. Come here."

They embraced, and Anthony let his tears stream freely, for they were being washed away by the shower. This feeling was very important to acknowledge, he thought, for it showed him what he wanted in life. He wanted a family. And he wanted Ian to be part of it. How that would look like, he didn't know yet, but he would figure it out, as he always did.

Ian was already back on his bullshit, flaunting his ass while drying off.

"I hope you're ready for another round!" Anthony teased

[galwednesday]

FOWL

"Now here's your problem," the cursebreaker said, squinting through her spectacles to read a section of the confiscated grimoire. "'Fair is foul and foul is fair.' Classic homophone confusion."

The Count surveyed the sprawling estate gardens where the loveliest of his assembled guests were hooting, honking, and chasing footmen into the duck pond. "Can you break it?"

"If you can round them all up, sure. Or it'll end at sunrise."

They watched the Duchess of Andenberg, currently a speckled turkey, drop down from a fence and onto her shrieking brother's head. The Count sighed deeply and resigned himself to rescheduling.

(100 word inktober drabbles; SALTY, SCRAPE, PONYTAIL, and BLUFF below the cut)

SALTY

"Would you leave it alone? It's just a bird."

"It knows exactly what it's doing," Moira hissed, staring the flamingo down. Its beady eyes bored into hers, but she wouldn't blink. Not when every time she closed her eyes, more of the shrimp in her marsh garden vanished.

"This is beneath you," her roommate tried.

"Says you. Nothing is beneath me." 

"Clearly," her roommate muttered. 

Moira blinked. The flamingo lunged. Moira slipped into her seal skin and let out an aggressive bark.

"I'm ordering shrimp scampi!" her roommate called, retreating back inside. "If you want any, stop fighting the birds!"

SCRAPE

"Boys will be boys?" Eric's father attempted.

"Boyish scrapes don't end in lycanthropy," Keith's mother said, much more convincingly. 

"It's just a scratch," Eric muttered. He was cowed into silence by heavy stares from both sets of parental figures.

"I'm sure no harm was meant, but if the bite had taken--"

"I asked him to," Keith blurted.

"Keith." his mother said, burying her face in her hands.

"Jessica got to be a werewolf."

"Jessica had a heart condition." 

"And now she has fangs," Keith said, with enough conviction to get himself banned from full moon parties until he turned eighteen.

PONYTAIL

"I can french braid," Kelsey said, super nonchalant, not at all strangling her backpack straps.

"Oh, cool," Ivy said, scuffing one hoof against the ground. "I never learned."

"Oh," Kelsey said, and went for it. "I could give you one?"

"Really? That'd be, yeah, sure." Ivy turned. 

Kelsey stared at Ivy's nervously swishing tail and tried desperately to think of a way to french braid it.

"Oh my god you meant my hair." Ivy whipped back around, ears red. 

"Yeah, I--yeah."

"I have to go."

Kelsey tried running after her, but Ivy was a centaur and did track, so.

BLUFF

"This is a bad plan."

"It's a fantastic plan." Tomas adjusted his cuffs. The tux was a rental, but an expensive one, smoke gray silk fitted with opalescent glass buttons in deference to the casino's no iron policy. Bernard watched from the doorway, arms folded, aggressively unsupportive.

"You can't lie to the fae. Literally cannot."

"I don't have to beat the dealer, just the other players." Tomas added a pocket square and struck a pose. "How do I look?"

"Like you're going to lose your firstborn."

"We don't want kids anyway," Tomas called, already on his way out the door.

[terrence-silver]

“You don’t just follow people to their homes! I’m calling the police.” with Yandere! Terry x Reader, please? You're so talented!!

@animeguyzzloverzoo

-

You dial the number, and you hear him chuckling from behind you.

It was a dreadful mistake. Turning your back for even but a moment on him, as you bluff and try to pretend you're hitting up 911 hoping the very prospect of such an action would be enough to daunt him and send him along his merry way after he's tailed you here. Perhaps it would, some lesser, feebler men - men with less dedication to a cause - but Terry Silver was no such man. He didn't fear any authority. Any law or rhyme or reason. He could buy and sell them all on a whim, and be out of confines and cleared of all charges before the patrol car even pulls up in front of your doorstep, but that just wasn't the point. The whereabouts of the LAPD and the fact they were so easy to bribe wasn't the subject of debate here. Everyone under the sun loved money. Cops. Criminals. Judges. Lawyers. Men. Women. Whores. Nuns. The point was, you offended him on a fundamental level. You thought him the type of commonplace, discount stalker who you could frighten off. Simply shake off with a few amateur tricks and stupid excuses. Wiggle free by pretending to be resourceful and oh-so brave in the face of danger by calling the cops. You underestimated him, and well, that really irked Terry. Calling the police? On him? Seriously? What a painfully dull, tired cliche. He wanted to break out laughing, and at one point, he does, the sound of it paralyzing you like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn't like to be underestimated by anyone ever, least of all, his targets. His special points of interest. He wanted his skills at subterfuge and following his prey to be taken seriously. He wanted to be feared, properly, as a menace should be feared. But this? This was downright insulting? He wasn't some two-penny, whimpering bandit with a crush. To be a proper voyeur - it was an art-skill. Like ballet. Like ice-skating. And he was more then a proper voyeur. He was a cyclone.

You wouldn't stare in the eye of a tornado, now would you?

No, you'd turn away, run, flee and seek shelter.

Pray that you're not caught in the midst of the storm.

Well, Terry Silver believed himself not that different from a tempest.

-"Yeah, George, it's me."- He steals the phone handle from you with ease.

He talks with the operator, as he assumes, stationed at cubicle 1589. working an afternoon shift from one in the afternoon until seven in the evening and it turns out it's correct, just judging by his voice. Nice man, that George. Has a wife. Three kids. Aged twelve. Ten. Six. He has a mortgage. A nice little car he's almost paid off. And his blood type is AB negative and sometimes, when he pees in the morning, his urine burns thanks to a brief extramarital affair he's had with a red-haired, green-eyed Valley-girl hooker simply going by Jade (very original) two years ago. Most helpful with the occasional favour too. Very blackmailable. He knows the local police stations and the diligent little ants manning them, inside and out, like the palm of his hand and he smiles, pushing you up against the end table where your telephone electrical wire is attached to the wall as you stand trapped, between his torso and a firm piece of furniture, shocked, that he's talking the nameless figure on the other end of the line like an old friend. You don't realize just how powerful he really is, do you? You know, to some extent, but it never quite hit you, until now, it seems, as he speaks up once more, with a nonchalant grace meant to annoy you, much to his absolute delight. You were so cute. -"Yes, false alarm, that's all. Not to worry. No need to record this. You're a real peach!"- Terry finishes the conversation with his fakest, snake oil-salesman corporate charmer voice and swiftly breaks the line, hanging up with a click, maintaining his posture and furthermore, maintaining you imprisoned right there, with no place to run. This is why you don't underestimate him. The typhoon that he was could easily swallow you. You should've feared him more. Dreaded him with more finesse. Gave him something worthy of him.

He years to wrap the telephone cord around your neck and strangle you with it.

-"Next time,"- he hisses into your ear, enveloping you from behind, in the darkness.

-"If you wanna call for back-up, think of someone who'd be an actual challenge."-

Terry bites into lobe of your ear, grinding into your posterior wantonly right before he snorts in amusement, wrapping your own shivering arms around yourself as he holds you down hard, in a tangled mess of limbs, licks your cheek covered with salty, cold sweat with a long, delectable moan, leaving a trail of hot, searing saliva on your skin as goodbye and goodnight, lets you go of your frozen, stiff frame with the same suddenness he's grabbed you and disappears down the corridor of your apartment, leaving in one swift motion, silently, like a ghost, in the moonless, starless evening, dressed in black - all leather, gold and turtlenecks, blending in with the busy, buzzing abyss of the urban midnight. Tomorrow, he'd visit again. And after that, he'd do it again. And after that, he'd repeat the all-too familiar motion. And after that. And after that. And after that. Why would there ever be an end to something he so dearly wants anyway?

[umisabaku]

Um if you're still accepting requests to write in Further Stories in Designation: Miracle (Volume Two), can I ask for the miracles discovering their favourite food/s and their reactions to it? And how the miracle's boyfriends find out? (If you want of course)

Black first discoversthe vanilla milkshake while he’s on a mission for Teiko.

He did a lot of thingswhile he was Out—things that the others don’t know about, things that he wouldbe punished severely for if anyone found out. But the nice thing about hisLatent Overflow was that as long as he wasn’t doing anything that drew too muchattention, no one would notice, even if he wasn’t using his powers. He couldquietly read a book in the off-hours of a mission with everyone else none thewiser.

The vanilla milkshakewas perfect because it didn’t draw attention. (Only later, he will hear theassociation of “vanilla” with “boring” and he’ll think, ah, that’s why it wasso perfect.) He found that he could drink one and no one would see and he likedit a lot. It was sweet. Nothing was ever sweet in Teiko.

And even though he shouldn’trisk punishment for such a small thing, he still risked anyway.

(Kuroko can eat anythingnow, without fear of drawing attention to himself. But he still prefersvanilla, because of what he risked).

*

Unbeknownst to everyone,Green also tries canned red bean soup first when he was on a mission.

It was the single mostreckless, disobedient thing he ever did. To this day, he is still slightlyappalled at his own rebellion. But he’d been so curious by the machine,and he’d found the money by chance, so he couldn’t resist pushing the button tosee what would happen.

It was a warm day whenhe tried it, and it was warm in his throat. He drank it quickly so no one wouldsee him, and he never attempted such a thing ever again.

(But it was one of thefirst things he wanted to eat, once they were free. Midorima never explains whyto anyone).

*

Purple discovers candyalmost immediately after being brought in by the JSDF.

There was still a lot ofpanic and confusion going around—none of the soldiers quite seemed to know whatto do with the children they had found, and all of them seemed a little waryaround Purple. This wasn’t anything Purple felt like he needed to be concernedabout—now that no one was shooting at him he didn’t really care what washappening. Red would handle everything.

“I’m hungry,” heannounced, because he was usually always hungry. It was a bit surprising whenone of the soldiers handed him a nerunerunerune candy, only because he wasn’tused to anyone listening to him when he had that complaint.

“Hey,” he said,surprised by the taste. He was surprised by everything about it: how colorfulit was, how complicated it was, how it didn’t even look like something youcould eat but he put it in his mouth anyway. He almost spat it out, thinking itcouldn’t possibly be food, but it wasn’t unpleasant so he didn’t. “What isthis?”

“Candy?” the soldiersaid.

“So not food?”

“No, it’s food. I mean,you eat it.”

“But it doesn’t tastelike food. It tastes good.”

“Food Outside hasflavor, Purple,” Black said quietly at his side. The soldiers hadn’t quitenoticed Black yet, and probably didn’t hear him, but Purple leaned in tolisten. “It’s not supposed to be bland. It comes in a lot of differentflavors.”

“Huh,” Purple said,thinking this over. “Then I want to try everything.”

(Murasakibara doesn’thave a favorite flavor, not really. Anything new is good. But that first timechanged everything and candy will always stand out.)

*

Pink enjoys cherriesbecause of the memory, and also because of her skill.

Sakurai Michiru foundher one day, off to the side and trying to hide her resentment and her pouting.“They’re not teaching you how to play basketball?!” the woman exclaimed onceshe heard about the problem. “Those sexist fuckers, I’m going to pound somesense into them—”

“That’s not it,” Pinksaid quickly, “They explained the rules, but everyone had to go easy on mebecause I’m not as strong as them. They didn’t say that, but I couldtell. The boys weren’t going to have fun if I kept playing, so…” She didn’tknow how to explain that she didn’t want to compete in a realm where she didn’thave a chance, so she didn’t finish her thought.

Michiru must havefigured it out anyway. She disappeared and came back with a big bowl ofcherries. She sat down next to Pink and plopped the bowl down between them andsaid, “OK, kiddo, I’m going to teach you an important life skill right now.Something that will be incredibly useful to you later on in life, and it willalso make everyone wild with jealousy because not a lot of people can masterit.”

“Really?” Pink asked.“That’s probably not true. Besides computers, there’s not much I can do thatthe boys can’t.”

“Oh ho, that’s thebeauty of this trick, even if the boys could learn it, it’s nowhere nearas effective unless it’s done by a pretty girl.”

“That sounds amazing!What it is?”

(Momoi likes the memoryof the afternoon they spent working their way through the bowl more thananything else.

But, she has to admit,being able to tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue does happen tobe a skill she’s quite proud to show off. It’s definitely one of the mostuseful things she’s ever learned.)

*

Blue likes teriyakihamburger because he genuinely likes the taste best.

Imayoshi Sayuri more orless forcibly dragged him to a restaurant near base (one of her attempts tonormalize him to society) and said he should find something he liked.

“Then I’m going to ordereverything on the menu,” he snarled.

“Fine,” she said,calling his bluff.

Convinced she wasbluffing, he actually went ahead and ordered everything. When she didn’t stophim he demanded, “How exactly are you paying for all this, hag?”

“I’m not, Sergeant Kasamatsu is. I took one of his credit cards.”

“He’s OK with that?”

“That guy always seemsto have money, so it’s fine. I think he has a sugar daddy or something.”

Blue didn’t know whatthat meant, but it sounded appealing at the time.

He made a point oftaking at least one bite out of everything that came. And the teriyaki burgerwas the best.

(Aomine still likes itbest, but mostly he just remembers that day as being fun. Sometimes hestill wants to go into a restaurant and order everything on the menu. He knowswhat a sugar daddy is now, though, and it’s no longer appealing, but he doeshope that one day Momoi gets really rich.)

*

In a strange twist,Yellow likes onion gratin soup because Kasamatsu Yukio does not.

Youji took them bothout, on the grounds of “it’s not good to eat nothing but cafeteria food all thetime” and Kise picked the restaurant.

It only becomes clearlater that Kasamatsu didn’t really like Western food all that much. He hadapparently picked the onion gratin as the most innocuous option, but he tookone bite and frowned around his food.

“You don’t like it?”Kise asked.

Kasamatsu popped thespoon out. “I’ll eat it. I hate wasting food.” He took another bite andgrimaced.

“I’ll eat it,” Kisesaid, taking Kasamatsu’s spoon right from his hand, and using it to tryKasamatsu’s food.

“You had your own spo—oh,never mind,” Youji said.

“I like it!” Kise said,his eyes never leaving Kasamatsu.

“Oh, good. Thanks,”Kasamatsu said, staring back. They’re sitting so close to one another, Kiseleaning in, one hand just casually, carefully, touching Kasamatsu’s arm,Kasamatsu’s spoon still in Kise’s mouth, and Kise thought it was a little bitlike kissing, the way they were looking at each other.

“I’m still here,” Youjisaid.

“What?” Kasamatsu said,breaking away from Kise.

“Nevermind,” Youji said,rolling his eyes.

(It’s still Kise’sfavorite, and it’s funny to him because of how much Kasamatsu doesn’t like thedish. But it still tastes a little bit like a kiss to him.)

*

“I’m sorry it’s soplain,” Furihata says quickly. “It’s the only thing I know how to cook. I knowyou’re probably used to fancier things—”

“Not at all, Furi. Tofusoup is actually my favorite food,” Akashi reassures.

“Really?” Furihata says,brightening.

“Yes,” Akashi says,taking a pleased sip. Red had never seen the point of a favorite food. SoAkashi can say with perfect honesty that tofu soup is his favorite, because heknows it will be, from now on.

A/N: Thank you for theprompt, anon-friend! I am sorry I could only do the first part of it. Otherwiseit would have been a little too impossibly long. But I had a lot of fun so Ihope you enjoy! =D