#who are the dozen he services tho

[jurian-is-cinnamon-roll]

James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser

[swordfright]

oh god uh okay. jesus christ here we go. sigrid is c!dream's daughter from one of the alternate (i.e. bad) endings of ouroboros. sam thinks he's her father but neither of them is quite sure because, well. she doesn't look like sam. she looks like this...

there's no deep dark biome on the server, so nobody has ever seen a warden before. they literally do not know what the fuck she is or how to care for her. luckily, dream manages to escape the torment labyrinth when sigrid is a toddler. he takes her directly to phil because phil is like, old as balls. surely this old man knows something about this species, right? wrong.

raising her is challenging. she's completely blind, so she needs help to get around (good thing techno has not one, not two, but two-dozen dogs that can be trained as service animals.) they also discover, when she's around nine or so, that her screams can inflict serious damage on anyone within hearing distance. doomsday trio do their best, and she gets...some semblance of a normal childhood. normal by dsmp standards, anyway.

after their escape, when sigrid's still little, dream meets up with punz again and they continue to pursue their research together. dream leaves for days at a time, then weeks, then months, returning to the arctic less and less frequently. in his defense, it's not his fault he never wanted a kid. he's also got a pretty intense complex around not being seen with her, since he knows any association with him puts sigrid in danger. what ends up happening is that she basically gets raised by c!emeralds. her personality is much closer to techno's than dream's.

needless to say, she and dream have a complicated relationship. i've got about 15k words of him teaching her necromancy collecting dust in my drafts lmao

one of her Big Things is that she gets lonelier as she grows up and realizes there isn't anyone her age around to play with. the closest she's got to a friend is michael, who's a couple years older and has been inducted as a Real Syndicate Member (this is the ouroboros timeline, so sam never killed ranboo.) this leads to her rebellious phase, which involves a lot of exploring outside the perimeter of the arctic with her dogs. she eventually befriends another little girl who's in a similar boat (there are hardly any kids on the server! just boring grown-ups! it's not fair!) and the two of them meet up in secret to go on stupid dangerous adventures. phil and techno never see this other kid and are fully convinced that sigrid made up an imaginary friend to play with. in reality, the other kid is quackity's daughter. so uh. yes, this situation does eventually blow up in everyone's faces.

i'm gonna cut this off here sdfghgfd thanks for taking an interest tho!! i have a backlog of sigrid drawings, maybe i'll be brave and post more of them someday...

[hypervoxel]

hiya, for your ask game: 🍬🍄❄️🧩. love to stalk your blog by the way <3

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Gotta be honest, once I get into a fandom I will leave the main tags as soon as I find my niche and a group of blogs to follow and a few Discord servers to join, and not venture out into the main fandom again. Idk what's popular. I have complained about many takes, but I am also very forgetful so.... Uh, Vox is asexual, Alastor is actually a terrible person (affectionate), Valentino absolutely has a tragic backstory (and is still so evil <3 ), Velvette is literally The Worst and kinda a pick-me girl (I love her), Charlie doesn't understand how to help people and it is detrimental to the people she's trying to help (I also love her). Carmilla is so ridiculous and I don't understand shipping her with Velvette. I don't get Husk (derogatory, but only slightly and mostly in a 'I don't think his writing was consistent, and he was used - as many characters on this series were - as more of a plot device than a complete character in his own right. His dialogue was thrown in to tell-not-show aspects of other characters in a way that felt inorganic to me, which turned me off of his character almost completely' way). Boom, there, so many unpopular opinions <3

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Velvette is so connected to phones and apps and things of that modern tech nature. Therefore: Velvette also broadcasts and recieves radio waves, but only those in the Bluetooth spectrum. She can AirDrop memes onto Vox's face (or, in canon, call his TV head directly, bypassing his phone). Vox is so absolutely not replacing the quiet ease he and Alastor used to share with their similar thinking/perceiving/broadcasting methods (it's alll radio waves) with Velvette. Totally. Totally. His past relationships would never~ cloud how he treats her.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

Well first of all Me I'm writing it!! So incredibly slowly and badly, but I am writing it nonetheless 😤 I actually have two or three or a dozen ideal dream ideas rattling around in my brain. Obviously, my beloved Damaged Nerve where I throw 20 ideas I enjoy together into one fic (or at least talk about doing that bc. I am always getting distracted instead of updating it). Service shark Vark!!! The VoxVal non-consenual consensual non-consent (it makes sense to me)! Velvette!! Vox killing angels with his bare hands! And getting an arm and half his head cut off (he gets better immediately bc he is all easily replaceable parts)! Charlie and Vaggie watching a Sinner attacking Exorcists right before Charlie was supposed to present her rehabilitation project and having to defend ideas, which is suddenly made even more difficult for her because now it looks like Overlords are planning to fight back against the Exterminations, and he didn't win but neither did the angels, so maybe Hell can fight back against Heaven (wasn't that why the Exterminations happen? Because Heaven is afraid of them uprising? Well, maybe they should be afraid...) Vaggie fallen angel feelings (those were her sisters and she's so bitter about them and she's so scared for them)! The timeline of Exterminations being moved up and Vox getting blamed for it! (Sinners who were previously excited about what he did turn against him bc of the backlash from Heaven and from other Sinners.) Carmilla hating the Vees! Inane and uniformed, smug wannabes! (She still killed an Exorcist for real tho, and Vox only wounded the ones he fought. She thinks she's better than him because she fought to protect the people she loves. Vox literally also did that, except it wasn't people it was a shark. She'd hate that too.) VoxVal horrible terrible no good very unhealthy relationship! VoxValVel also horrible relationship <3 They love each other, they can't live without each other <3 None of them are allowed to leave this ship, even when it's sinking <3 Vox won't lose a partner again; no one else can leave him like Alastor did.

But right now I've been working on a Vox & The Vees-centric rape recovery (or, well, there's not much recovery happening yet. It is just a long and drawn out breakdown where they madly scramble to resecure their power and influence and become more powerful so no one can ever hurt any of them again, and become so codependent) fic and it is everything to me and I do not have it really plotted out, I just have so many Thoughts and vaguely connected scenes for it that I bother people on discord with (hi to any people on discord reading this. Thank u for listening <3 )

Also I am (thanks to your ask about Vox's biology from earlier), daydreaming about a fic I have lovingly named Planned Obsolescence (tho I'm gonna have to make sure no one's taken that title yet) about Vox upgrading himself and upgrading himself and upgrading himself and he can never stay satisfied because the world marches on and he has to march with it, he can't be left behind because he needs to be the one innovating and leading. And upgrading himself.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Look I'm looking for things that are so specific that if a fic looks like it might be somewhat about what I want, I'll read it. I will click away if you call Alastor a w*ndigo tho.

Wait I thought of something else and then this next part got long and it's also about rape, so I'm throwing it behind a read more

Also!! Holy fuck I just remembered but I've run into it twice now. The Implication that rape is worse when it happens to someone who is already sex repulsed. Like specifically in these scenarios the rape was not a punishment not an attempt at corrective rape. Like, that I would get, actually, if the motivation itself was a hate crime, which adds a whole other dimension to worry about. But, no. That wasn't. I can't even articulate the poor taste it left in my mouth, it's just. Why would you make a character more horrified to learn their friend was raped after they also learned that their friend is ace? "He never would have wanted it-" hello?????? Yeah! That's why it's called rape????

(But also - while I do absolutely love reading about sex repulsed aro/ace characters (lol they're so me) - oftentimes a big part of what I am looking for in a story about rape recovery is a character struggling with the fact that their body did "enjoy" the physical sensation. That sex is supposed to happen with someone you love/are attracted to/trust, and this was a perversion of it, and it fucks up how you view future sexual relationships.) (And like, the physical sensation being pleasurable while your mind feels only disgust and repulsed is. An aspect that I feel like many can relate to, not only sex repulsed aces. Unless I'm projecting??) (Of course, recovery from the perspective of a character who was sex repulsed and remains so is also so so good.) (In general, it's a topic that needs to be portrayed with a kind of nuance and understanding that is often hard for an author to find the right words for. I'm sure I've even written thing poorly here, and inevitably said something that will be hurtful to a person with a different perspective than my own. Sorry! But such is the reality of everyone being individuals, unfortunately. The things that bring some people comfort will cause other people distress.)

[gemstone-golem]

Week 2 of my daily art project: OCtober!

this week was definitely more rough than the last one. i still feel happy with a lot of these designs, but drawing these were a lot more rough than the last week.

costume reasonings under the cut!

-ive shown off Broken Sky before this, she was chosen as Zeus from Hades because shes a thunderstorm of a woman, being dressed as the god of thunder just made sense for me.

-Viola and Martha are basically a lesbian duo who love eachother dearly, so having them dress up as what would basically be their inverses was fun. so yeah, luigi and king boo.

-Pcal is a dumbas catgirl i made for my girlfriend. so obviously i draw the dumb catgirl as the iconic dumb cat girl, neko ar- I MEAN! Arcueid Brunestud. shes an iconic fighting game character and i just thought itd be fun to represent her. im totally not a dipshit with this choice no. totally not.

-Johnathan Ilk is this weird guy. like scary weird. hes not ultimately trying to be harmful, but hes fucked up. he also has an inate connection to the forest, as he skins several dozen animals a day. making his costume be Leshy from Inscryption was basically a perfect idea in my head.

-okay so. chese is weird because its so specific. its a deltarune au character, ill explain. Chese is a robot, and its name stands for Chaos and Havoc Era Service Engine, so itsjust. a chaotic robot! making it based on Junkil REDUX, a robot body form (i think) whos also about chaos and whatever, it was a good idea in my head! i think.

-Megan and Souble are also a duo but its the same kinda inverse situation. i chose the two characters from clash of clans of all games, because one is a red cloaked black haired human thunder wizard and another is a beige clothed goblin rogue, but megan is a red cloaked red haired human rogue, and souble is a beige clothed goblin weather wizard! it was a fun inversion i liked. also fun fact, i actually used the color pallates of the opposite characters for their outfits in this drawing! megan has the colors of souble's outfits, and souble has the colors of megan's outfits!

-day 14 is the weekend, and on the weekends im planning to draw the ocs of my friends, so i chose a discord friend of mines bee oc. she asked for Jelly to be drawn as Buzzinga from My Singing Monsters, so it was p fun to. do this. i dont got much to say here tho.

[doberbutts]

I love seeing your commentary about RoP. The annoying anons suck tho (tbh i think its just one obsessed guy bc theres no way that many people found ur untagged posts). I did wanna say tho, I am really confused about you saying Good Omens got no backlash? Or reblogging posts etc suggesting that. I agree there was no call for boycott but i remember there was a MASSIVE freak out esp from conservatives abt adam and eve being black. There was also a lot of racist etc lgbt morons dropping shit abt the show too in ways that were VERY sus to me, similar to RoP but definitely not to the extent of RoP (despite GO having white leads? I guess nothing can please a racist)... As for the other shows you listed, no idea! I was just curious if you knew abt that or if those details were wrong. Have a good day jaz!

Not that Good Omens (or Sandman, though that's Netflix) didn't/aren't currently facing backlash, because every single adaption that features characters with skin tones any darker than fallen snow has gotten some serious backlash (and- by extension- every single adaption that doesn't rigidly hold heteronormative and cissexist ideals has as well) over the years and it's always the same fucking shit "bad costumes" "makes changes" "I don't like how this character looks" and it's all very blatantly transparent.

BUT that there seems to be a solid lack of a concentrated effort to force the show to fail, to make this particular show the one that Amazon dies over.

I saw people making plenty of excuses for why they should be allowed to watch Good Omens. But for ROP it's "don't even pirate"- why? Torrenting it will not give Amazon hits on their webpage nor will it make Amazon any money. I saw people making excuses for why Vox Machina was okay to be on Amazon, to the point of posting elaborate tricks to get Prime for free for 30 days so they could watch and then cancel Prime and not give Amazon money. But for ROP it's "even if you already have Prime you shouldn't watch even though it's included in your already present Prime subscription".

I understand that some Amazon rep said that how well this show does will determine the future of the company's streaming service but also it seems like folks have taken that and run with the assumption that not watching it will kill Amazon as a company entirely and thus hurting those involved with it is an acceptable means to an assumed end- even when Jeff Bezos has more money than God and thus the idea that killing the company would somehow hurt him as if he wouldn't immediately invest in something else evil.

I'm just not seeing the same "this is the hill we must kill Amazon on" energy in those other shows, to the point of harassing literally anyone who says anything remotely positive about them regardless of money spent, to the point where I have dozens of aggressive anons saying it's some terrible show because Reasons and yet when I ask them to name something specific it's "oh I haven't watched it". Seems to be more than what those other shows have gotten.

[tahmores]

The Elevator.

Disclaimer ── This story will tell the story of Ambrose in the past. Writer's POV.

Sunday, like Sundays in general, the man was ready in a white shirt and black trousers with a clutch in his hand. He was ready to go to church──his Sunday morning routine. Ambrose, his name. He had called his sister but she didn't pick up, she certainly hadn't woken up yet.

The distance from his house to the church only took about thirty minutes, not too far but not so close. On the way, his phone rang. Annaish's name was on it. “Good morning, Her Majesty the Queen, how was your sleep?” he teased.

“Splendid as always,” said the one on the other side. "Why didn't you wake me up, Ambrose Biagio Tahmores?” she babbled. His voice sounded clear as if she had just woken up. Maybe even, the drool that was in her mouth was still dripping there.

“Please check your call log. I called you dozen times, Annaish Delilah Tahmores. Bye, I hang up. I just arrived,” He hung up the phone and put the phone back in the seat on the left. He went down and entered the church, listening and following a series of events and sermons inside.

Ambrose arrived quite early but he chose to sit in the middle row at the very end of the seat near the window. He didn't like to sit in the first row because later someone would disturb him because they wanted to go to the toilet or something.

One by one people started arriving. He saw a woman he saw every Sunday in church and uniquely, always sat beside him. Maybe the side of the window is also her favorite spot. She wore a long white floral dress. Her name is Yumiko. It is known that she is of mixed Indonesian-Japanese blood.

Yumiko again came towards him. Sit right next to him. “Hi, nice to see you.” The words that Yumiko used to say every time she met him. Ambrose smiled. “You seem to like sitting by the window, don't you?” he asked. The woman nodded. “Want to switch seats?” he offered. Yumiko shook her head, "No, it's fine."

The whole congregation stood up, a sign the priest was about to enter. Likewise the choir team who have played their song. Worship will begin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

. . .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

About an hour and a half, the worship was over. Ambrose stared out the window until someone tapped him on the shoulder. “What are you looking at?” Yumiko asked curiously because from the start of the service to the end, Ambrose occasionally looked out of the window.

He turned. “Nothing──a cat, maybe?”

“Like the outside is more attractive than the inside, huh?”

Ambrose laughed but in his mind wondered what that sentence meant. Ah, maybe about the worship.

“By the way, did you change your perfume?” Yumiko asked.

“...”

“Wow, you noticed? Even though, we only met once a week. Interesting.”

“Ya, because this one is nice tho,” she answered.

The two of them kept talking as they walked out of the church. Ambrose had known Yumiko these past few months, only as church friends and nothing more. He still avoids relationships that are more than friends. They only chatted about daily topics and a few small questions.

“Are you free today?” Yumiko asked.

Well, he thought of going to Annaish's house later and messing with his sister. But maybe, Ann will play with Sira today. Maybe it's better to hang out with other people?

“I am. Is there a place you want to go?” he asked. “Yes! Can we go to Central Park? I want to eat ramen down there!” Ambrose nodded and invited Yumiko to quickly get into his car. During the trip, the woman did not stop talking about herself and also asked several questions to the man beside her, trying to get to know him better. On the other hand, the driver only answered questions and idly nodded his head whenever Yumiko spoke.

Ambrose just found out that Yumiko was seven years younger than him. She is still 24 years old. No wonder she is so talk-active. She works at a start-up company in Jakarta as a business analyst. “So, how is it, working with startup companies?” Ambrose asked curiously.

“Well. Kinda nice, but actually not very stable. Sometimes you can't even predict when it will go down or even go bankrupt,” replied Yumiko while shaking her head. “As long as my tummy filled up with foods and have no worries about foods, I'm okay.” Ambrose smiled. A very simple reason for someone to work. Yet he does know is that the salary of a business analyst is quite high.

“Anyway, we arrived,” said Ambrose as he turned his car into the direction of the mall. He parked his car in the basement and after that he got down with his clutch and cell phone. After Yumiko got off, he locked his car. They walked into the mall and entered the elevator. The couple who had previously walked behind them also entered the elevator. Ambrose and Yumiko were busy with their cellphones before suddenly the elevator stopped moving.

“What the...” said Ambrose as he pressed the bell between the number pads. The call goes through, someone asks how things are inside and Ambrose explains calmly how many people are inside and there are no parents or pregnant women. The officer explained that he would immediately provide assistance in about fifteen minutes.

Yumiko stood behind him, looking calm but also worried. On the other hand, couples who previously also got into the same elevator are blaming each other for choosing to go to the destination of the woman's choice over the man's choice. Ambrose and Yumiko looked at each other, Yumiko shook her head. Sometimes, at times like this, people blame people.

Ambrose sat while waiting for the officer, followed by Yumiko who sat beside him. Cell phones can not be used, there is no signal at all. Yumiko reached for the hand of the man beside her, gripping it tightly. She leaned her head on the man's shoulder. Ambrose let it go, he thought Yumiko must be so worried now. “I'm so hungry,” she said.

He looked at his cell phone. It's been fifteen minutes but the officers still haven't arrived. “Wait a little longer. Maybe they're fixing it out there,” he said calming Yumiko. One or two minutes had passed, the condition of the elevator was getting hotter. Ambrose unbuttoned his shirt and used his clutch as a fan. He occasionally fanned the clutch towards Yumiko.

Time passed so slowly in the elevator, five minutes but felt like thirty minutes has been passed. “Should we play something?” asked Yumiko who was tired of waiting. “Rock paper scissors game? The loser gets a flick on the forehead,” Ambrose made a suggestion. Yumiko nodded her head.

The two of them took a stance, raising their hands each preparing to defeat the other. “Rock-paper-scissors!”

“Aha! Come here,” said Ambrose, the winner. He took out the paper as Yumiko took out the stone. Yumiko sat closer and prepared to get a flick on her forehead. Ambrose placed his hand in front of Yumiko's face and pulled his middle finger, flicking the woman's forehead a little tighter. Yumiko was in pain and rubbed her forehead many times. Ambrose laughed. Yumiko retaliated by hitting his shoulder which didn't hurt much.

“How come the loser also hit? Wow, this isn't fair,” he teased and lightly flicked Yumiko's forehead once more. Yumiko pursed her lips tightly, shook her head and prepared to win. So did Ambrose who was ready. “Rock-paper-scissors!”

This time, Yumiko won. She did some stretching as if preparing to nudge him hard. Yumiko withdrew her middle finger and landed it on Ambrose's forehead. It felt nothing, as if Yumiko really just put her middle finger there. “Ah, ah, I miss everything! Again!” Before Yumiko could do it again, Ambrose dodged. Exactly, suddenly the elevator was on. The speaker inside said that everything was back to normal.

“What a relief!” said Yumiko who stood up. Ambrose stood up and again pressed the number pad indicating which level they were going to. After the experience finally, Ambrose and Yumiko also eat the pre-planned ramen. ”My treat.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

6387 Words.

[pagesofkenna]

Here's a question that's been bugging me since the dawn of time: where does the word Mormon come from? Is it a self identifier? Is it a cruel nickname? Like just in a general sense why is this the word. Is it okay?

Same vein, are there specific "latter day" saints to which the name of the church refers? Or is "latter day" kind of like "(revised edition)"?

so 'Mormon' refers to 'The Book of Mormon' which is another book of scripture that this church uses. without going into the whole story (tho I can if you're interested!) the founder of the church claimed to have a vision about the location of another historical record, which he found and then, with divine help, translated into English

(also, I'm using 'claims to' language because, while this is all stuff I believe in to varying degrees, I want to stick to the provable facts)

the Book of Mormon purports to be a collection of journals and historical records, mostly regarding religious experiences, mostly taking place in the Americas. it says it was compiled by a prophet named Mormon - thus the title

SO. at the time the church was founded and the Book of Mormon was being translated/published, people referred to those who believed it was a true historical record as 'Mormons'. since then the term has gone through a series of stages of 'self identifier' and 'nickname we're OK with' and 'nickname we're not OK with' (in case you're worried, I don't believe it was ever understood to be a slur)

recently the church organization has tried to pull away from using 'Mormon' as a self identifier. I don't know all the information, but from what I gather this is partially due to the fact that not all people who use the Book of Mormon in their religious practice follow the official church's practices. There's a few dozen 'Mormon' splinter groups... mostly hyper-conservative, secluded, super sexist and/or racist, and tbh pretty culty (if you're hearing about modern Mormon forced marriages, or doomsday militia stuff, those are groups that use the Book of Mormon in their religious service, but aren't actually endorsed by the official church organization)

the official name of the church I actually attend is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. this is the main group of 'Mormons' that exist today; most of the time, if someone talks about 'the Mormon church' they're probably referencing the LDS church. the term comes from the idea that this is supposed to be the church that Christ himself founded when he was alive, but renewed again in modern times (so, 'Latter Day' is literally 'revised edition' lol, but not a revised from the church's initial founding in the 1800s). I think there are some splinter Mormon groups who try to use the term 'latter day', but 'LDS' specifically refers to the 'official' church

tl;dr - neither term is offensive or anything, but there are some people in the LDS church who don't like being called Mormon, and some people who call themselves Mormon who aren't affiliated with the LDS church (also some LDS people who insist on still being called Mormons because it's ridiculous not to have a one-word shorthand like literally everyone else does)

[thegayguard]

i'm working on the upcoming chapter of you aligned my stars i promise it's coming out tonight or I'll start the riot myself

[bomberqueen17]

Last night Mom, Middle-Little, Farmsister, Farmkid, and I drove up to the military cemetery.

Dad doesn’t have a stone yet, he’s got a temporary marker. They’ve buried enough people since him that the row is full and they’ve started to fill half the row behind. The grass has filled in already-- cremains only need such a small hole that it takes no time at all. We laughed to see the rest of the row filled in with shorter and shorter grass until it was bare dirt on the last one.

The stones, the service member gets the front, and their spouse gets the back. (This is a section that allows spouses to be buried with the service member; much of the cemetery is reserved for solo burials. This section also specifically is for cremains, and the stones are much closer together than the coffin burials sections. Specific sections for solo and dual burials, for cremains and coffins. There are also... columbariums? Not sure of the word, but vertical structures with a grid of niches and a stone faceplate that hold remains four high and like a dozen across. Mom did not want that, she wanted a stone, and looking at them we confirmed it-- it’s such a cramped space that there can be only one epitaph even if there are two people in there, and there are no dates only years.

Though the crowded little columbarium is very snug, and we amused ourselves looking at the way the epitaphs line up. I took a photo where of the nine stones in the shot, five had epitaphs with some variant on “Forever Loved” or “Loved Forever”; another photo had two that said “Gone Fishing” and one that said “Going Fishing”.

My favorite epitaph said “I had to mosey,” on the stone of a man born 1927 who’d been buried in 2014. He must’ve been a beloved grandpa, with that kind of line, you just know it. My maternal grandmother used to end every visit with “Well I’d better mosey ‘long home now,” and so did I, when it was time for me to leave last night after supper. (We had Halloween-themed cupcakes, which I enjoyed but found an odd choice since Dad had been so hostile to always being stuck with Halloween-themed confections for his birthday. I am not going to look a Creepy Eyeball cupcake in the mouth tho, it was delicious.)

There was a guy buried a couple rows over from Dad who was born in 1985. That’s the year Farmsister was born, so we contemplated that in solemn dismay. Iraq veteran, died this year.

So we stood around Dad’s temporary marker, and Middle-Little poured each of us a shot of some fancy variant of Laphroaig in of course tiny metal shot glasses belonging to an elaborate travel drinking set. M-L owns ridiculous amounts of specialty alcohol-drinking memorabilia. I would’ve just passed around a flask because I am a savage. I’m glad she was in charge. She’d planned on coming by herself, but we all tagged along.

We stood in contemplation of the sunset, and I took the photo above. The camera on this phone I’m borrowing is not fantastic, but if you don’t zoom in it’s not a bad photo. There’s a bizarre electronic carillon that, every half-hour, plays like five minutes of a truly strange selection of songs, notably including the Marines song (the one about the shores of Tripoli) but not the songs of any of the other branches-- Dad would be taking notes and would be Deeply Offended, he objected to the Marines on principle-- but apart from that weirdness it’s nice. The groundskeepers are as strict as Dad always wanted to be when he was caretaker of the Catholic cemetery-- artificial flowers are only allowed from October to May, no memorabilia, no solar-light displays, no gaudy extremes. Just flowers, and they’ll be periodically removed.

Actually the gate of the cemetery was extravagantly decorated with pumpkins, and Mom said it was because they don’t allow them to be placed at gravesides, so they removed all they found and placed them at the entryway instead, and it made for a truly spectacular and beautiful display. We saw several pumpkins by graves, and knew the groundskeepers would be by to move them soon.

Military cemeteries are very orderly. 

And there’s federal funding, so they don’t fall into disrepair like church cemeteries. IDK, Mom comes up here a lot so far, but I don’t think I’ll hang out here much. I planted all those walnut trees, I hope some come up. I’d rather think of him there.

[seventeenfluff]

Dino as Your Boyfriend

a/n Hello my dear friends!!! How are y'all doing. 2021 is just around the corner so new year, new hope, I guess? Corona needs to go away, for real. As I've said before I really have a lot of plans for this blog so please look forward to it and that includes adding other groups (mainly Monsta X) if that is okay with you :D Anyway happy 180+ followers ily ily ❤❤❤

Previous Member: Vernon Hanson Chwe

Let's start of with the fact that Dino is one of the members who would be a simp for their partners

He is also one of the members who is easy to figure out when they like someone because he couldn't hide it very well.

Dino said that him and Woozi doesn't get along well because of their different personalities but honestly I beg to differ because if you look closely, Woozi and Dino is almost the same, personality wise

He is as passionate as Woozi when it comes to their career so yes Dino is someone who would prioritize his work over love

Dino is also a person who is shy at first and doesn't realy shares what he thinks in a situation and would just ride the waves

But once he got comfortable though, Dino is an individual who is not afraid to speak his mind (despite his age) and would let you know if he is unhappy or uncomfortable with something

And just like Joshua, Dino is someone who doesn't filter his words, he would say it in a way that you need to hear it.

but Dino is someone with a lot of patience, I know that he jokes about having to deal with 12 older brothers and we all know how hard it is to deal with an individual personality, what more a dozen personality at once?

His love language includes affirmation, service and time

He is a person not afraid to initiate physical affection but he loves to be receiving end so if you're someone who loves to initiate it, i think you're a good match for him

As I've said Dino is a simp, and he really won't be lowkey about this. He would treat you like a queen (regardless of gender) and would spoil you as much as he could

Though he expects to have the same treatment tho

I feel like Dino because of his age is someone who would stay in a toxic relationship but he is someone who matures and learns very easily so I think one experience (of toxic relationship) is enough for him to know what to do next.

He is also someone who couldn't hide his feelings and emotions, Dino is easy to read specially if you knew him already for a long time.

Not really spontaneous, just like Woozi and Wonwoo (surprise!) Dino is someone who plans the day, specially if it's a date, to the T.

Not really fond at giving gifts but loves having a piece of you on him and you having a piece of him

Subtle couple stuff is thing for him, necklaces, shirts, bracelets or even piercings. Anything that could match but is hard to notice.

Dino is someone who is willing to do anything for anyone that is really important to him. He is someone who would go beyond his limit just to make sure he was able to perform what is asked for him (that part of 1:17 challenge where Dokyeom called him and Dino runned to meet him)

I also think he is someone who alot of preconception on how a relationship should run. He still have this idea that this how a man should act, this is how a couple should be, this is how my girlfriend should be, etc. kind of stuff

So yes if you're uncomfortable with this, talking Dino is the way to go

In connection to that, Dino has a tendency to be dense so like Wonwoo, if you really don't tell him what you are thinking or feeling, Dino would never know.

But Dino is a compassionate person, although he couldn't understand nor relate to what you are feeling, he would try his best to make you feel better through care

e.g you had a bad day. Dino wouldn't be able to relate or understand why you're having one (despite explaining it to him) but he wouldn't say anything else and would do something to make you feel better, like making you a cup of tea :)

as I've said before Dino's priority is his career so I think he is someone who wants someone who openly supports him (honestly, in my opinion he is one of the members who would date a fan)

Doesn't really say I love you frequently but he says it more often compared to the other members. He is in-between Dokyeom and Wonwoo.

[chilligyu]

tagged by: @kwonsyoungs

tagging: @mingtiddies, @dreamystuffers, @xuseokgyu, @gamerwoo, @celestialpearls and anyone else who wants to do this!

What day is your birthday?

august 16th, agust d day

What is your favorite color?

mint or peach

What’s your lucky number?

8

Do you have any pets?

two kitties

How tall are you?

5'6" / 170cm

How many pairs of shoes do you own?

realistically, between my apartment and my parents house, probably like 20 (if anyone finds the missing shoe for each pair let me know)

Favorite song?

curse you for making me pick first love by bts (suga)

Favorite movie?

kiki's delivery service, a perfect movie

Who would be your ideal partner?

understanding, compassionate, goofy, intelligent, kind

Do you want children?

i go back and forth, currently yeah

Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

:)

Baths or showers?

showers

What color socks are you wearing?

i am not wearing socks

What type of music do you like?

easier question: what type of music do you not like aggressive meaningless rap, songs that flex about how rich and successful the artist is when they're actually huge assholes, post 1950's country, most things that make it to top 40

How many pillows do you sleep with?

two

What position do you usually sleep in?

side sleeper, sometimes i hug my pillow

What you don’t like when you are sleeping?

lights and repetitive sounds, sometimes my boyfriend leaves his phone open while he scrolls through youtube shorts, i couldn't sleep one night because i couldn't stop hyperfocusing on the 10 second clip repeating

What do you typically have for breakfast?

nothing or frozen waffles, maybe crepes when i have the energy

Have you ever tried archery?

not beyond the archery unit that i had in gym in high school

Favorite fruit?

raspberries

Favorite swear word?

fuck, it's so versatile

Do you have any scars?

:)

Are you a good liar?

ya, but i never lie to people i know personally (customers tho? yeah the kitchen totally lost your ticket and i totally didn't forget to ring it in)

What is your personality type

infp/entp, i've got conflicting results... i should retake it shouldn't i

What is your favorite type of girls?

all

Are you an innie or an outie?

innie

Left or right handed

left

Favorite food?

mashed potatoes

Favorite foreign food?

right now, definitely thai

Are you a clean or messy person?

i have untreated adhd, my apartment is a mess

Most used phrase?

my brain just expelled all knowledge of words

How long does it take for you to get ready?

30-45 minutes (30 for makeup and 15 to decide and re-decide my outfit)

Do you talk to yourself?

a lot

Do you sing to yourself?

all the time

Are you a good singer?

no clue i don't ask

Biggest Fear?

losing creativity

Are you a gossip?

nope, but people at work are testing my patience right now and "keep my name out of your mouth" has been uttered more than once

Do you like long or short hair?

super short

Favorite school subject?

forensics, i had an interesting high school

Extrovert or Introvert?

extroverted 20% of the time, introvert 80%. as a waitress i kinda have to force myself to enjoy people.

What makes you nervous?

fear of failure

Who was your first real crush?

lol i should read his name was cody, and there was more than one cody, don't ask me why

How many piercings do you have?

i have 8 holes in my ears total (i don't know if this is 4 piercings or 8 since they're not symmetrical i'm confused) and my belly button, i was actually planning on getting two more today but work stressed me out so i forgot to make an appointment

How fast can you run?

i used to be pretty fast, but i'm so out of shape now. i used to outrun all the braggart jocks and jerks

What color is your hair?

brown

What color are your eyes?

black

What makes you angry?

lack of empathy, liars, entitlement, and the usuals, r*cists, homo/transph*bes, p*dophiles, r*pists

Do you like your own name?

now that i've reduced it down to three letters, i love it. you call me by my full name and hellfire shall descend upon you (unless you're family)

Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

i want to have a child that isn't relegated into traditional gender roles and become their truest self as they grow. i want them to be happy

What are your strengths?

accidentally saying something profound

What are your weaknesses?

since i forgot what i was gonna say, let's just say my unmedicated adhd is a pretty big weakness because idk if it's just that for the half a dozen concussions i've had in my life but i can't remember shit

Color of your bedspread?

grey and pink

Color of your room?

grey (apartment life)

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

if you have a question about aussie slang, for a fic or whatevs, please just ask i don't know all of it, but we do have some fun words and sayings that are day to day statements

esp. the more rural you go

not everyone has the full accent though, because you do get a lot of pressure at work to come across... professional or whatever.

the only one i've never been sure of being an Actual Phrase, or if it Became A Phrase after popularisation on a tv show, is "Stone the Flaming Crows" bc a dude from Neighbours used to say it frequently.

examples of day to day stuff i can think of right now

mad as a frog in a sock (angry about something, went off, off the shits)

mad as a cut snake (usually means 'they're nuts', but can also mean they exploded with anger, usually contextual)

she'll be right (it's fine - can be a flippant statement, can be reassurance, etc)

drongo / galah - (idiot, not very smart, wanker, etc)

dunny = toilet

thunderbox/outhouse / long-drop - usually outdoor toilet

dry as a nun's nasty / dry as a dead dingo's donger (I am thirsty, or It Is Hot AF/we need rain so bad)

chuck a u-ey (do a u-turn)

Oi! (Hey I want your attention/i was surprised, general exclamation, stop that, you are in a lot of fucking trouble mate - depends on the tone of voice and volume) like "OI!" says aunty ruth has just found her dentures in jello and she knows you did it, etc

Bugger off (go away, or sometimes a statement of disbelief)

Yeah nah /Nah yeah (can mean yes, no or maybe depending on what was said directly before the statement)

you cant pull the wool over my eyes - you can't lie to me like that / i can see you are not telling the truth

shut your gob / put a sock in it / put a cork in it - (shut up / shut the FUCK up / close your mouth or i will shut it for you) depends on tone

Ya wally (you idiot)

Roo = kangaroo

o = can be affixed to anything to shorten it at the servo - gone to the service station, arvo - afternoon, smoko - morning tea, bottlo - where the grog is

goon/goonsack - wine in a box

grog - alcohol

stubbie - beer, ususally

boardies - board shorts

rashie - swimming shirt,

slip, slop, slap - ancient proverb for avoiding sunburn. singing pelican.

thongs - footwear

sheila = female / woman, don't hear this a lot at the moment tbh except in certain contexts or from specific people

'Getting rowdy' = things are heating up, people are riled up, a fight is about to/has just broken out, etc.

DJ's like a mad cunt = one very specific meme about a bad PM we had like 10 years ago. i can't tell you how many PM's ago, it's been game of thrones here lmao

Beyond the black stump / Out whoop-whoop / references to timbuktu (quite a distance away)

strewth!/crickey!/bloody hell - (exclamation of surprise, expletive replacement, etc)

flat out like a lizard drinking (tired / drunk / exhausted / sleeping)

pull a harry holt - (I've heard a dozens variations of this one, it means Go Missing / Disappear, often used as a joke. PM Holt went swimming one day and disappeared)

have a stickybeak (to poke your nose in/investigate/look around)

chuck a wobbly/throw a tanty/chuck a tanty/throw a wobbly (throw a tantrum, i have legit never seen anyone successfully deescalate a situation by telling someone not to chuck a wobbly or throw a tanty, go figure lmao)

bogan - (very specific kind of low-income, generally white, people. sort of like rednecks, but with more stereotypical aussie features like a mullet, singlet tops, sunnies, stubbies, etc. tend to fall under the liberal party ideology - who are our republicans... )

ankle-biters / rugrats / little takkers / gremlins / nippers - (kids, usually the littler ones)

tiff - argument, small fight (had a tiff, had a row)

pav = pavlova

piss/whizz/take a piss = going to pee

vegemite - delicious

Kiwi = New Zealander

Banana benders - the disrespectful bs that apparently other states call anyone living in Queensland, the wankers

station - farming areas that have sheep or livestock usually, have farmhands etc.

dole bludger(s) - (anyone on Centrelink, whether they want to be or not, with no other employment. but like, a lot of people on centrelink have a job that does not cover enough and need additional financial supports to meet a minimum wage, or are students or apprentices, etc. there are people who go on centrelink on and off to avoid engaging in the jobseeking stuff, they are the real dole bludgers, but a lot of richer people tend to call anyone on 'welfare' bludgers)

don't you come the raw prawn with me - (do not lie to me / don't try that shit with me, mate / I wasn't born yesterday /etc)

dak/dack - to dack someone is to come up behind them and yank their pants down (or skirts). Often taking out your boxers, too.)

budgie smugglers - (speedoes, male swimwear)

togs/toggs or cozzie (swimwear, any kind. cozzie = costume)

mozzie - (mosquito)

better than a kick up the backside /better than a kick in the arse - (pretty self explanatory, one of those phrases parents use to get slightly hurt kids to start laughing and/or coworkers to commisserate about new work rules, etc)

I wouldn't piss on (name) if they were on fire - (self-explanatory, you hate them, or they're a useless tit or an insufferable person /a suckup etc, and you would gladly hand them a match)

one for the road = getting a drink for the road, usually. can also make a joke of it like, "one last piss for the road" = I'm going to the bathroom before I leave

here's your handbag, what's your hurry - probs not an aussie phrase but a common joke in my family

----------------

So like, there's some words and items from Australian Indigenous culture that often get used wrong in stereotypical characters, like saying 'gone walkabout', using 'cooee', making digeridoo jokes, and making some really uncomfy 'savages' statements can be very disrespectful. You might want to go looking into Australia's fucked up policies and historical (and only recent) situations before starting any arguments about this stuff... in many ways it mirrors the cruelty of american colonisers to native american peoples, etc.

Avoid some phrases. Your character gone to cool their head? He's gone off on to soak his head, or he's on his bike (gone away) but he'll be back... You can use 'Oi, dickhead!'

Please don't mock the names of towns or places, they are often the names from the traditional custodians and inhabitants.

-----------------

Random things:

We drive on the left side of the road, driver's side reversed.

More of our cars are automatic than manual. Utes aren't atypical, but bigger vehicles are out in rural areas because more than a few of the rural roads are poorly maintained or dirt, with potholes that yoyo your soul into your body.

If you have a character on a long drive on a non-highway, or rural road: +if you are on a one-lane road and someone is comingthe other way, you both move half-on, half-off; for big vehicles or trucks, you can choose to pull off completely and stop. Just for safety, esp. in rain, fog, mist or late at night. +at one-lane bridges, you have a give way sign on one side. if you want your characters to have a moment of 'pause to look at each other while driving' or 'a quiet moment of reflection', have them wait for another car or truck to pass from the other side. These can be a few metres long, to like, a really long bridge. +They may pass markers that say 'flood level marker' with numbers of 2, 3 or 5 metres. Could be useful to remark on if your fic needs a reason for them to have a crisis. +Bushfire warning signs (from Low to Catastrophic) are frequent +Animal Crossing signs are very frequent, and often have a wildlife rescue number on them +Water restriction signs are in most small towns, they range from levels 1 to 6. This can change what the characters are allowed to do with water in little towns, etc. +You may occasionally find a small servo and one or two houses. +pubs don't open/won't serve alcohol until after 10am. the joke has always been, 'beer on your cornflakes' but you will never be able to actually get that unless you preplanned the night before in your hotel room. +Around dawn and dusk, a lot of animals like hares, kangaroos, wallabies, sometimes echidnas and koalas and little numbat things, and snakes and bushmice will be close to the road. Sometimes dashing across. They do not react logically to cars approaching, and will leap out at random. Hares do this zigzag nonsense. If you need the character to hit the brakes frantically, or swerve, this is a good reason. If you are ever driving here and see an animal on the side of the road, flip lights to low beam, slow down and watch to see how they react. If you can. If there's a truck blaring down on you, you may not be able to.

+Emus are in more rural areas. Echidnas sometimes appear on fringes of towns though.

+Kookaburras are a lovely creature, I have rescued a few and they are nice... but their laugh is very grating when it goes off super early in the morning. They eat snakes (good) and baby birds (not so good).

+Lots of snakes round here. LOTS. Carpet Snakes are pretty common, red-belly black snakes, eastern brown (big danger!!!), whip snakes have declined in my region, keelback snakes, this one black and white banded one we found deceased, etc. Snakes can climb, snakes can SWIM. Putting something that stinks around a campsite MAY help, but not always.

+Never go swimming in a dam you don't own, and that hasn't been checked, and if no one knows where you are. How deep is it? What's on the bottom? How stirred is the water? etc.

+Kangaroos CAN drown you. They have perfected this attack, and will do it to humans, dogs and other pursuers alike. They can also eviscerate you with their hind paws or shatter your ribs with a kick. The 'boxing' they do is exceptionally violent. This seems to surprise people, but like, giraffes can kill each other by slamming their heads into each other, you think a 7 ft swole motherfucking cryptid can't do harm? They can be lovely tho, if they trust you. But DO NOT GO PETTING WILDLIFE.

+Dropbears, austrilanicus vericanthus bitus, are real. We do make jokes about them, but they are a Problem. The pee on yourself thing won't ward them off, that's more about working out which tourists are the most gullible (and if they run with it, the moistest) lmao. Akubras and other thicker-layered headwear,

+We have wild dogs and feral pigs. Do not fuck with the feral pigs, some are HUGE, and no... they're not just pigs who escaped farms, these are MASSIVE motherfuckers who will Get You if they See You. Rustling in the night outside the tent? Good Luck.

+Koalas should not be picked up directly. They have claws, and a lot of them have chamydia. I mean if a character saves one in a fic that's fine I guess, but like... someone's getting antibiotics after that lmao. They are bigger than you think, dumber than you think, and sometimes they have to be chased across a highway with a windscreen cover bc they're not very bright and keep failing to climb metal fences, lmaoooo

+Towns of about 20-30k will have more shops (some franchise, some local owned), servos, fast food places and usually at least two to three shopping centres. Usually small level entertainments like a cinema, or local groups. +Towns with 10-20k, may have one or two major shopping centres, servos (tracks and RVs catered to), possibly a maccas, and the majority of stores will be local-owned. May have a cinema, but not one that has the newest releases. Local council may have more festivals, or 'that one thing they're known for'. +0-10k towns have a small local store, prices usually a bit higher. A servo, often with capacity for trucks. Local festivals. Characters can cop a bit of side-eye in these places, esp. if they don't fit the traditional ideas or are loud/violently american. +Grey nomads are a thing. Old people with fancy caravans who drive So Slow, and move all around aus. Several refused to stop during covid and it was like, WHO DO YOU THNK WE'RE TRYING TO KEEP ALIVE BY STOPPING YOU MOVING THROUGH MULTIPLE TOWNS???

+Some rural areas have legit red dirt, its always super cool to look at. Some places have light brown to dark brown, some have more chalky colours or yellowish dirt. Depends.

+Reminder: Australia has very specific gun laws, if your character/s have weapons then they may need to be sneaky or store them specifically in the vehicle. Although if you're talking about like, mad max type rules, then who cares. But if you have them get into a gun fight in a town, the police will come, etc.

Dunno, just ask if you have a question... just trying to think of random things to paint a picture if you have a character over here for a roadtrip or mission or whatever.

[filthfichunter]

Might i request underage, incredibly tight someone being trained to fuck by Vesemir/Eskel/Geralt. Maybe Vesemir training every boy in "fencing". Or Geralt and Eskel training Lambert or Jaskier. Belly bulge, cum inflation, overstim and any others you'd like. Breeding bench is hot af.

Dub-con into fuck yes more - con is good. No fully non-con tho please.

Okay okay, so we've established that I wouldn't know a short fill if it fell into my lap and introduced itself right??

CW for: I think I only managed to fit underage (Jaskier the year before he heads off the Oxenfurt, so however young you'd like, musical savant? Rebellious barely legal teen? Up to you), and training an incredibly tight hole, inflation, distended belly, punishment inflation, anal beads, coercion, dub-con and spanking... But everything else is totally in whatever imaginary coda I hope this inspires for you of what happens next!

Geralt wakes the bard by sliding his cock into Jaskier's mouth, pushing his hips forward until his white wiry pubic hair hides that cute nose. The kid is practically choking on it before he even fully wakes up and realizes what's happening. Startled sleepy cornflower blue eyes meet slitted cat eyed pupils. 

There is a brief pause. Geralt hilted waiting to see if he'll need to reinforce the lessons he's been teaching the bardling the last two weeks. For Jaskier that brief moment slams forward with a burst of adrenaline  as he finally wakes all the way up. A gurggle, gasping in air through his nose, as he desperately tries to get a deep enough breath, spots starting to form at the edge of his vision.

He's woken up this was every morning since the first. 

The now familiar taste and smell and discomfort calms him, and he forcefully reminds himself that it's all part of the deal he struck even if he didn't know all that he had apparently agreed to.

Geralt's hips forcefully rock, disrupting his airflow, triggering the gag reflex that hasn't quite been trained out of him yet.

The young man's eyes start to tear up even as he relaxes his throat and begins sucking.

"Good, work. Your throat is golden, the perfect little fuck sleeve." Geralt chuckles at his own joke and begins fucking his  bard's face, enjoying the way the kid's throat flutters, spasming around his girth. It doesn't take him long to come, it wasn't an over exaggeration, Jaskier's throat is tight and wet, tongue flicking over his length. He hauls Jaskier up out of his bed role when he's finished, kissing him filthily, licking his own cum out from between slick friction swollen lips.

Agreeing to let the bard follow him along the Path has been one of his smarter decisions of late. When the gangly youth, cocksure and so very pretty, had approached his table Geralt had decided to ruin him.

"I speak Elder, can juggle, play any instrument given to me, crowds have wept to hear a song from my golden throat, and  I am willing to both sing your praises and provide entertainment on our journey, should you allow me to but follow you on your nobel path this season!"

Jaskier had taken a bit of an unauthorized gap year.

"You decide to run away from home then? Someone looking for you no doubt" the Witcher had asked for forms sake, assuaging what little moral reluctance he still held, having already decided that he'd be taking the lithe twink up in what he'd offered and also what he hadn't. 

"Hmmmm"

It had been easy to see that Jaskier wasn't an actual bard or performer, not dressed in the expensive but sedate clothing, only a small rucksack  and case holding his belongings, and presumably his lute.

"I didn't run away from home sir Witcher! I am merely gathering inspiration and experience before I start my formal bardic training in the Fall!" 

"Which isn't to say that I am untrained now, merely in search of material to fule my enterance audition, you are the inspiration I seek!!"

Jaskier had thought it was a grand plan. 

Now he found himself naked gummy eyed from a fitful uncomfortable rest, breath stale from sleep and cum, reluctant to acknowledge that this hadn't been the plan. 

His cock was half hard from morning wood, jaw sore, belly still uncomfortably full from the previous evenings training, starting another morning with his Witcher.

Less time limping along after Roach was always welcome.

"Give me a show bard!" Geralt smirked, "You still haven't held up your end of the bargain and we can both agree that I have been attentive in your training, let's see if you'll disappoint again this morning"

"Thank you Geralt, for being so patient." Jaskier always tried to apologize early on, it saved him from dealing with a red bruised ass all day if he could keep from having to be corrected until at least after their lunch time stop. 

Geralt smirked enjoying the insincerity. Jaskier had started out so reluctant, and confused about his role, but after that first two hard days acclimating had learned to at least give the appearance of acceptance.

He's been working on Jaskier, getting him ready to service all of the appetites of a Witcher."Hands and knees, spread your legs wide, hump the ground, let's get you spent and loose"

Already used to such instructions Jaskier dropped getting into position. Geralt enjoyed seeing that ass jiggle infront of him as the boy dropped down into position for their morning lesson.

"I've been patient, little buttercup, but maybe what you need is a push." A solid clap, more noise than real violence echoed the clearing, Jaskier's hips rolling more fluidly, the fingers of his hands dug into the sod above his head beyond the bedding as Geralt's hand fell down twice emphasizing his threat.  

The lightly furred cheeks of the boys ass looked like a perfect peach, round, lightly furred with a hint of dewy sweat as Jaskier chased the coarse friction of the bedroll beneath him. His cock  hung vulnerable between his thighs thrusting hard  down drawing frustrated grunts.

His belly was taut and swollen beneath him, sloshing from last night's lesson training him to take more volume into his guys.

It was just plump enough that Jaskier couldn't get enough stimulation on his straining erection.

 It was never enough alone to get him off. "Hm. Your little hole is winking at me again!" The pads of Geralt's finger ran over the dry dusky starburst, "feeling shy this morning?" The rim clenched tightly around the thick rope that disappeared into a swollen hole. The friction and lack of moisture after having worm the training device all night causing the whimpers and thrusting to gain a bit more desperation.

The rope ran deep into the boy's asshole, connected to a series of graduated beads. The last bead large enough to retain the heavy expanding potion Geralt had funneled into Jaskier to aid in his training the night before.

Jaskier wasn't allowed to remove them, or empty his straining belly for the day until he'd come first.

It was his own fault.

His virgin hole had been so tight that Geralt had to punish it for refusing to cooperate. 

That first lesson, dispensed only an hour after they first met had done double duty.

Geralt forcing three of his fingers into Jaskier's mouth finger banging the back of his throat to help him get used to satisfying the Witcher with his mouth, and then those slopping spit slick fingers had reached back and smacked down on his hole, three quick spanks, then back into his mouth.

They had repeated the activity until Jaskier stopped thrashing and had eventually cum frosting against Geralt, held prone over the Witchers lap for the first time.

His hole had been too tight, from fear and anxiety the first time Geralt tried to fit the head of his cock inside. No amount of pressure was going to work, so instead of casting him aside Geralt let him know they'd work up to him fulfilling this role in their party through regular training.

There were only two anal beads that first night, liberally greased up with some salve from Geralt's pack. The beads had been small, easily thrust in and out of his asshole. 

He had cum so hard that first night he had blacked out, waking up warm, and sated Geralt's spend coating the inside of his thighs where he'd taken his own pleasure from Jaskier's unresponsive body, pinked up thighs splashed with white seed.

Every couple of days Geralt would add more beads, bigger beads getting Jaskier ready to take his cock, making do with the boy's mouth, hands, and his thighs as they worked to stretch his hole large enough to be able to take Geralt.

Attitude just brought more discomfort so it hadn't taken long for Jaskier to give in. Geralt was very handsome, and his cock was intimidating enough that he'd been grateful not to have had to take it without all of the prep work they had done together

There are a dozen heavy carved stone beads up Jaskier's ass. They bump against each other clacking and vibrating, a property of the mineral they are made from.

 With little tugs to the rope Geralt is able to peek the surface of the largest bead out of the younger man's hole. "Looks like a hungry mouth Jaskier, gobbling up almost everything, who knew my boy had TWO such hungry mouths, bear down, gape that tight little pucker" 

The bead pushes further out of his hole, stretching the rim as it starts to push out. Jaskier rim looses color under the strain a white band of stretched muscle straining.

When Jaskier isn't able to push it any further himself he earns a quick series of slaps to the meat of his ass, cheeks bouncing hard and going even pinker.

They've been working at stretching Jaskier out every evening. First on Geralt's tongue, then moving on to any number of other tools that the Witcher happened to have on hand.

The night before Jaskier had been placed on his back, nearly folded in half with his knees near his ears arms wrapped around each ofnhis own thighs holding himself open and exposed. Geralt used a funnel and inflatable tubing to deposit a potion into Jaskier. 

The tubbing had been made from pig bladder, and while it had only started out as thin as one of his own fingers it had expanded, filling him so deeply and fully that his own belly had soon blocked his view from his awkward position. 

He'd been so relieved to have the tubing pulled free that he hadn't known to brace for the potion itself expanding. An intimidating amount of slimy lubricant had filled him. 

Jaskier had passed out last night with his distended belly rocking back and forth jostled by Geralt thrusting to completion once again between his thighs.

Today's position was equally uncomfortable but at least once Jaskier came he'd be able to rest his sore belly.

Geralt rearranged the prone figure infront of him. Pushing Jaskier's legs even further apart tilting his pelvis back, putting a deep curve into the bards lower spine, everything is on display.

It only takes a little pressure before Jaskier's hole opens up and he can push his middle finger in deep, pushing the anal beads deeper. He gently pets around Jaskier's rim, barely pressing the tip of another finger in, stroking the skin around it with his other ones.

Geralt moves up to a second and third finger quickly. Picking up speed, jostling the anal beads, setting them to click against each other and vibrate up against the boy's prostate. Agitating the liquid locked behind.

As soon as it feels like Jaskier is close, walls fluttering erratically, Geralt yanks his fingers and then the beads out.

The rim of Jaskier's ass blooms and clentches rapidly as each bead is wrenched free, the thick lubricant sealed behind them exploding out. 

Jaskier tripped over into a punishing climax, overwhelmed, spent and lax after all of the stimulation.

Jaskier's unconscious body twitched and his hole spasmed.

Geralt fed three of his fingers back into the unconscious body.

Even as the sound of rhythmic squelching filled the clearing the Witcher was applying the slick dripping from Jaskier to his reawakened erection.

There's enough slimy lube that the bardling feels wet inside, like a pussy but, even after their first grueling session of the day, so much tighter.

But finally not too tight.

He'll wake Jaskier up already impaled on the thick girth of his cock. Geralt can't wait to fuck the hole he's had so much fun training. He could have had the kid bouncing on his cock the first day, but after having lived as long as he has he knows the value of drawing pleasure out. 

He can't wait to further bruise that peach ass by slamming into it with his hip bones, finally hilted deep all the way into the space he'd painstakingly carved out for himself.

Jaskier doesn't know that he won't be starting at Oxenfurt in the fall. 

Geralt is extending his boys gap year and taking him with him back to Kaer Morhen for the winter.

He did after all promise to bring that years entertainment for his fellow Witchers.

[misslisterkeepsajournal]

Thursday 13 March 1834

6 35/.. 12 1/2

Vc || N N L L P

fine morning Fahrenheit 56 1/2° at 7 35/.. at which hour went out - breakfast with my father at 8 1/2 - with John Booth moving flowers out of the garden -

Letter from Miss Walker 3 pp. [pages] and 2nd page crossed - I have so indulged her she has fidgetted herself at not hearing from me - sends me copy of her letter to Washington - there is one sentence so much too sharp, he will certainly not lay that to me - 'I am still in the mire about Lidgate' all she writes on the subject and enough - but, poor girl! I am getting over my annoyance she wants guiding and I must begin as I mean to go on or give her up at once -

came in at 1 20/.. a few mins. [minutes] with my aunt - Mr. and Mrs. Waterhouse and Mr. Musgrave called at 1 3/4 for above 1/2 hour - Mr. W- [Waterhouse] mentioned catalogue published by the widow of all Radcliffe's (Rouge Croix) Letters he had ever received and price at which they might be bought - 2 from my uncle and mine 2 guins. [guineas] - out again at 2 1/2 - came in at 3 and wrote and sent note to 'Jonathan Akroyde Esquire' compliments and finding Mark Town, who has applied to me for some land was still in Mr. Akroyde's service should feel much obliged to him to be so good as inform me whether he thought Mark Towne 'a man of high respectability, like to farm well and pay his rent regularly' Compliments in answer and greatest pleasure in informing me that Mark Town had been  in his (Mr. A-'s [Akroyd's] employ several years, 'in the course of which Time I have found him to be a very sober industrious man' - no notice taken of farming well or paying rent -

dinner at 7 (out with John Booth planting flowers (rose trees &c.) Marian came to me while I finished dinner and had my coffee - Mark Town came before 8 and staid till 8 3/4 - Told him the questions I had asked and read him the answer - only 1 question out of the 4 answered - not enough - very sorry - the poor man very sorry and much disappointed - had agreed for £10 worth of lime at 16/. a dozen carting and all, and had spoken for manure meaning to begin farming immediately - said I would write Tomorrow to inquire of his present landlord Mr. Robert Edelstone (brother in law to Mr. Thomas Holmes) and if he Towne called again Tomorrow evening hoped to have a more favourable answer to give him - From 8 50/.. to 10 10/.. wrote and sent in box with several packages of biscuits and sweet cakes 1 page and ends of outside envelope to 'Miss Walker' and nearly 2 pp. [pages] of 1/2 sheet to Dr. Belcombe vide line 16 next page - went to my aunt at 10 1/4 for above 1/2 hour - read the newspaper till 11 50/.. and wrote the last 15 lines - fine day - Fahrenheit 57°. at 11 50/.. p.m. - Thomas too late for the coach office (night mail) but left the box (containing my packet Sarah's note biscuits and prospectus of history and antiquities of H-x [Halifax] - with Mr. Carr who promised it should go in the morning at 2 a.m. - my note to Dr. Belcombe merely to give the message from M- [Mariana] in her last letter about his writing to Miss Connell on the subject of little Mariana's headaches - to beg he would write by and by and that Harriet would not press Miss W-'s [Walker's] going to their great party on Monday -

my letter to Miss W- [Walker] written Tuesday yesterday and tonight 5 pp. [pages] and ends and 1 page and ends - wrote tonight

'I impatiently waited your answer about Lidgate - It is couched in less than one line, 'I am still in the mire about Lidgate' - enough - that incubus, indecision, must press on you no more - Had I been at your elbow, you would have been wiser - it cannot be just yet; therefore, leave the matter in statu quo for the present, and advertise house and land together next year Your letter to W- [Washington] was very good; but the remark about the Town's books would have been modified, had you been at Shibden' -

not to go to the Belcombes great party - had written to beg it might not be pressed - glad she made no apology for not calling sooner in the minster court - to decline evening visiting there - to begin anacharsis - this work worth a hundred times Croker's Life of Johnson and Crabbe's poems into the bargain -

'Write to me by Saturday's post without fail - I shall go on being indulgent; tho' what do you deserve for that sentence quoted at page 2 of my 2nd page? I had some reason to be annoyed; but we soon relent towards those we love - Good night! faithfully and affectionately yours AL-' -

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/17/0007

[whimperwoods]

titles are hard. it’s d&d-based fantasy whump tho. Arms of the Enemy? somebody give me a better title challenge.

I saw a post about being rescued and carried bridal-style by an enemy and it was great but now I don’t know where it is? If you have it, please shoot it my way and I’ll link it, ‘cause whoever thought of it first was a genius. ^_^

Anyway this got quite long so I’m stopping here and hopefully gonna write more at some point?

Castor is a warlock, in service to the Great Old One and the Dark Emperor, in that order. Ed is a fighter, a knight and battle master in the service of the True King of Lumenea. They have always been enemies. In the space between the Old One and the Emperor, they might be able to become something else.

Also Ed is hurt real bad and Castor is carrying him out of the dungeon because sometimes he acts on impulse.

tw: blood, tw: coughing up blood, tw: descriptions of deaths in battle

***************

Castor stepped into the cell and found himself frozen, his feet unmoving on the floor. It was one thing to see Sir Edmond like this in his scrying orb and another entirely to see it in person.

The limp, battered form of his enemy didn’t move at the sound of the door creaking open, and Castor felt a cold weight settling in the pit of his stomach. He’d left his room in the tower knowing the knight couldn’t be left in the dungeon, but Sir Edmond had still been awake then, struggling to keep his head up even as the rest of his body lay unmoving where it had been thrown.

His footsteps didn’t rouse the man, either, and the relief he would have expected turned to a sick horror twisting around the weight in his gut. He hurried forward, moving before he could second guess himself, and scooped Sir Edmond into his arms.

His hand shook as he held it out toward the point where the chain around the knight’s ankle was attached to the wall. He had to be careful, had to cast the spell far enough on the other side of the wall that he wouldn’t catch the two of them in it, but he couldn’t afford too long aiming or he’d drop the dead weight in his arms.

He released the magic, and a concussive wave sped forward with a loud crack, breaking open the end of the chain and sending a ripple of cracks outward through the stone, stopping just short of his feet.

Sir Edmond started shifting in his grip, moving weakly, and Castor felt his face begin to burn, unsure how to explain himself. But what was done was done, and he needed to hurry out of the cell before someone could find him in the middle of things.

He’d meant to wrap the end of the chain around Sir Edmond before he left the cell, but up close, there was nowhere to wrap them that wasn’t already bloody, the knight’s body ripped open in so many places that even where he was whole, Castor couldn’t see it through the blood crusted over his skin.

He scooped up the end of the chain, gathering it up and draping it over his own arms before he hurried out of the room, his greatest enemy cradled safely against his chest.

*****

As Ed came to consciousness, everything hurt. His breath stuttered and faltered in his chest, and his eyes teared up in silence as the movements of his own lungs sparked waves of agony that rolled through him like fire.

Something was different. He wasn’t on the ground. He was in the air, held up by - something. Something warm. There was something against his side, against his cheek, that was warm and solid and gave like the floor didn’t.

He needed to know what it was. It was new. He forced his eyes open, desperation and despair settling against his breastbone as even that required two flickering tries to accomplish.

He was being held. Carried. He could feel the motion, now, could identify the additional waves of pain that didn’t match his breathing. The arms around him were strong, but the chest was clothed in a thick sweater he didn’t recognize. The face was blurred with the tears he hadn’t been able to hold back, and he couldn’t identify the man.

He leaned into the man’s chest as best he could, grasping the front of the sweater and holding on, hoping it would help him steady himself at least long enough to blink his eyes clear.

*****

Sir Edmond’s breaths came in shallow, broken gasps that shook his whole body, and Castor was relieved when the man grabbed ahold of his sweater, because it meant that he at least wasn’t trying to get away.

His own heart was racing and not only with the exertion of climbing stairs while carrying a man nearly his own size. Before, he never would have managed. Before, Sir Edmond had been a looming figure, terrifying, his eyes full of fire as he crossed battlefields, kept away from Castor and the other mages only by the strength of Zhok’s rage kept defensively between them. He still had nightmares, sometimes, of Sir Edmond’s sword tearing through an assassin’s chest, the light dying from her eyes before she even realized she hadn’t evaded his notice.

Sir Edmond’s grip on his sweater tightened and Castor instinctively pulled him in closer as they reached the top of the dungeon stairs, his heart racing and his throat filling with an old lump.

He knew where he’d meant to go, but it meant so much extra distance, before the night was out, and Sir Edmond was so weak, so much weaker than he’d realized, through the tiny image of the crystal.

Sir Edmond’s breaths were loud, choking things, and Castor’s feet turned toward the outside, where he’d planned to go, and tried not to worry too much about the rest. It would be extra distance, but the sound of the knight’s breathing wouldn’t echo, wouldn’t be so deafening without the walls to bounce it back to him, hollow and damning.

He just had to get outside. Get to the stables. Not look back, or second-guess himself. He pulled Sir Edmond closer again, hoping he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. Things had seemed so clear through the crystal, so obvious when Sir Edmond was lying, ruined, at his feet, and now - now the only thing he could make sense of was that he’d at one point had a plan.

*****

Ed blinked. Blinked. Forced his eyes to open, to close, to open, to clear.

The face above him was familiar, but it took a moment to place, even knowing where he was imprisoned. Castor the Black, Herald of Night, Battle Mage of the Dark Emperor. One of many men who had killed Ed’s soldiers. The man who had blasted common soldiers backward like he had a cannon at the end of his am, who had sucked the life from their battle cleric with one hand and run away so fast even horses couldn’t keep up with him. One of the emperor’s finest.

He sucked in a sharp, deep breath that made him dizzy with pain. His body spasmed around it, his tensed muscles pulling open his injuries as they tried to protect the aching lungs that half-collapsed in his chest. As he gasped to refill his lungs, his whole body convulsed with a violent, racking cough that brought up some of his own blood.

“Shit!” the mage said, stopping in his tracks and pulling Ed closer to him, holding tighter as Ed’s coughing shook them both. “Shit! It’s ok! I’ve got you!”

Ed choked and gagged, every inch of him screaming in agony around the rough jerk of his coughs, and his eyes filled with tears again, obscuring the mage’s face.

He was pressed tightly to the mage’s chest, and the hand he’d balled up in the man’s sweater had instinctively clenched tighter against the danger of falling, his own body betraying him as it fought to live through the coughing fit.

His head grew lighter, and then lighter again, bright sparks lighting up the inside of his eyelids with every sharp, shallow hack his cramping lungs could manage.

His breath only slowed itself after his consciousness slipped away again.

*****

Castor felt Sir Edmond’s grasp tightening in the front of his sweater, but the man’s panicked choking still threatened to wrench him out of Castor’s arms. He slid to his knees, trying to shorten the distance to the ground, and ended up half curled around the man, as if that would protect him from what had already been done.

Sir Edmond’s fingers loosened when he fell unconscious, and Castor took a deep breath, his head sagging forward toward the knight’s bloodied face as he held the man in his lap.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. When it didn’t satisfy him, he whispered it again, more vehemently. “Fuck!”

He sat up.

This was stupid. A mistake. This had always been a mistake. And yet - he looked down at the unconscious body in his arms, the man he had watched through his scry crystal for all those years and hated, watched again for all those months of unbrokenness and scorned, watched in these last days once he was broken and pitied - no. No, he’d made his choice.

He rearranged his grip on the knight and clambered shakily to his feet, hoping to get to the stables before the man woke up again.

*****

Ed hurt. He hurt. He fought through the pain, trying to find a sense of himself, and realized only after a dozen ragged breaths that he wasn’t in his cell. He was warm, floating, held by something, and the surface against his face was - was - things slid into place and he cried out weakly, shoving away from the mage’s chest and going nowhere, his arms too weak to free him.

“Hey,” the man answered, his voice rumbling through his chest so that Ed could feel it in his hands, a pleasant hum in a pleasant warmth, and everything in him hated that Castor the Black was the only pleasant thing in his world, now.

It was a trick. It had to be a trick. A new torment, cleverer than the old pain, like this enemy was cleverer than the ones who had beaten him in the cell, long after he’d given them what they wanted.

“No,” he rasped, his voice more groan than speech, “No.”

A ‘please’ hovered at the tip of his tongue, right there, before he snatched it back. No. No. He wasn’t begging. He had begged before, just once before, and look what it had gotten him.

He shoved against the mage’s chest only to find the man’s grip tightening instead of loosening, humiliation on top of humiliation. His throat tightened, and his breath came harder, made him fight harder for it, made his whole body shudder and quake and threaten to rattle itself into broken, bloody pieces. He was dying. He was dying. Why was he not just allowed to die?

The arms tightened around him, the pressure agonizing against his wounds, but the tightness in his throat was something else, something else, and it was getting worse, and he would not cry in front of Castor the Black unless he was made to.

“It’s alright,” the mage said, the rumble in his chest back, his voice gentle, gentle, a trick. “It’s alright, we’re almost there. I’ve got you.”

“No,” he managed again, barely a whisper, his hands sliding uselessly down the front of the mage’s soft sweater as he tried to push away and found himself falling closer instead, his arms giving out before he could even begin.

Castor the Black had armor, gleaming leather as dark as he could get, almost not brown at all, but in spite of the blood Ed had gotten on it, the fabric under his cheek and hands was soft, warm and comforting, something that belonged somewhere safe, somewhere far from here. His fingers closed around it, and he couldn’t stop them.

*****

Sir Edmond stilled in Castor’s arms, going quiet and unresisting, his fingers locking back into the front of his sweater, and Castor didn’t know if that was better or worse than the knight trying to push away. It was at least easier, which was something, and Castor forced himself to concentrate on that part, on the practicalities of putting one foot after the other and getting to the stables.

His arms ached from carrying the man’s weight, almost as dead and leaden now as it had been when the knight was unconscious.

He wasn’t built for this. He wasn’t trained for it. He’d fooled himself, thinking himself so different from the wizards that made up most of the emperor’s forces. If their positions were reversed, Sir Edmond could carry him with ease. If their positions were reversed, Sir Edmond would have put a sword through his heart long ago.

When he reached the well beside the stables, he set the knight down beside it and collapsed onto the ground next to him, his arms strangely weightless and aching softly.

He knew better than to speak directly into the man’s mind, knew he shouldn’t open up that kind of link, knew it would only frighten someone who had been an enemy for so long. He caught his breath instead, watching the knight pull himself together, curl in on himself in tiny, weak, desperate motions, and split open some of his wounds, barely scabbed over.

“Don’t,” Castor said, as gently as he could manage, his hand hovering over Sir Edmond’s shoulder as he realized he couldn’t find a place to touch him that wouldn’t be worse. “Don’t. You’ll only open up more of your wounds.”

*****

Ed’s face burned. Castor the Black pitied him. Had he really fallen so far? He moved in tiny, tiny jerks, motions of less than an inch that took all of his strength and sent dizzying waves of pain through him as surely as the mage’s steps had.

It didn’t matter. Breathing hurt, too. Everything hurt. He’d never hurt, like this. Not even with lightning coursing through him in the middle of a fight. A wretched, pained noise fell from his throat unbidden, and he turned it into a growl as best he could, baring his remaining teeth at the enemy mage.

The mage sighed heavily, tipping his head back and leaning it against - something. Ed forced his head up, trying to get a better look, only to find that he didn’t have the strength to keep it there. Fuck. He turned his face away from his enemy as much as he could without grinding it into the dirt, embarrassed and focusing the last dregs of his strength on keeping himself from crying.

“I don’t think I can get you back to the castle tonight,” the mage said eventually, his voice calm and soft. “So we’ll have to make the best of it.”

The mage moved, a rustling sound accompanied by a soft half-grunt, and then footsteps. Ed twitched, an instinctive flinch he only half managed to stop, and another pathetic high-pitched noise wheezed out his throat. He breathed again, his closed eyes tightening against the shame and the motion of his lungs hurting, hurting, hurting.

Make the best of it. Gods, what did that mean? The words thumped dully against his brain, but he was too dazed and overwhelmed to know anything more than that they sounded like the important part.

He breathed, and breathed, and did not cry, even as reopened wounds oozed blood down his back and thighs.

The mage walked away from him, the man’s footsteps becoming fainter and fainter, and Ed lay there, too weak to run, too weak to move, too weak to fight for anything but a last shred of dignity. His throat was thick and his sinuses pressed at the back of his nose. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

The breeze blew over him, gentle, and he waited, and feared, and hurt, and did not cry.

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 5: Andromeda II - Wotcher! (link to full story on FF.net)

Featuring: Andromeda Black and Ted Tonks

Word Count: 3.5K words

Warnings: References to Abortion and Drugs

The foul stench of warm beer engulfed Andromeda as she made her way into the dingy lit pub. It was awfully humid at the best of times, but in the July heat it was unbearable. The Leaky Cauldron was more or less empty, save for a few middle-aged wizards who she expected scarcely left the place. The barkeep nodded in acknowledgement at her.

“What can I get ya?” he asked, as he smiled Andromeda noticed that more than a few of his teeth were missing.

“Oh. Sorry. I am just meeting a friend-

“JUST MEETING A FRIEND?!”

Ted’s booming voice gave her a shock. She hadn’t noticed him at all when she’d walked in. Andromeda absent-mindedly reached to sort out her hair, but then she stopped herself when she noticed what she was doing.

“Sorry Quincy, won’t be stopping for a drink today,” Ted said to the landlord. “Make sure you save some of that Weizenbier though. I’ll be back in with Dirk next week no doubt!”

“Look forward to seeing you, Ted. Can’t promise I’ll still have any left tho’, popular stuff that, them Bavarian goblins sure know how to brew a beer!”

“That they do,” Ted quipped, as he reached out for Andromeda’s hand.

“Come on, ‘Dromeda, not got all day,” he said as he guided her towards the exit that faced into the muggle street.

“I am still not sure that I approve of that nickname,” Andromeda noted to him.

“Well I’m not sure that I approve of that purple cloak you’ve got on!” he cracked back at her. “You can’t go prancing around Southend in that in the dead of summer!”

Andromeda’s heart stopped.

“But you said…you promised that you would bring me a muggle dress to wear, Ted!”

She couldn’t believe it. She was going to look like an absolute idiot. The muggles would all be staring at her.

“Oh bugger! I did, didn’t I?” Ted said as a very serious and guilty look swamped his face.

Andromeda was crestfallen. It was the first time she was going to meet Ted’s parents and she was so very desperate to make a good first impression.

“I will look like such a fool, Ted.”

“You would indeed… it’s just as well I didn’t forget to bring you a dress then, isn’t it?” he chortled, before laughing loudly at her.

Andromeda felt her blood boiling. She hit him playfully on the arm over his denim jacket.  

“Ted Tonks! You are such a... such a…

“Devilishly good looking quick-witted chap?” he quipped, before grabbing her gently by the waist as she went to hit him again. She saw his green eyes smiling at her, before he closed them and kissed her softly on the lips like he’d done on many occasions over the last few months.

“I was going to say scoundrel,” she said at the end of their brief embrace.

“Scoundrel’s good too,” Ted replied with a grin on his face, before he began crossing the road.

“Where are you… that sign over there says the nearest train station is that way. I thought you said that we were going to get there the muggle way?” Andromeda asked, pointing in the complete opposite way to where Ted had begun walking.

Ted smirked.

“We are getting there the muggle way. No trains though!” he said, as he continued to stroll down the street, before stopping abruptly in-front of a red car. He slapped his hand on the bonnet. “What’d you reckon then, Drom? Nice motor, ain’t it?”

Andromeda felt a lump in her throat. “You. You cannot mean that… that

“Ford Cortina Mark II. Finest piece of totty to ever come out ah’ Dagenham. Brand new. Or so me old man said. Surprise present for me 17th birthday. I told him not to of course. Soon enough be able to apparate everywhere anyway, but he insisted on getting me a car. Could hardly turn him down could I?”

Ted reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of keys, then put them into the door on the left hand side and opened it, indicating for her to get in.

“Come on, ‘Dromeda. I told Mum and Dad we’d be there at one!”

“But Ted. Travelling by train is one thing, but in a… in a car?”

“You’re not scared are ya?!” he asked incredulously. She was. She was very scared indeed.

She had read all about the muggle contraptions which were widely considered death-traps with wheels. The Daily Prophet was always reporting on new stories of witches and wizards narrowly avoiding getting run over and such forth. Muggles were awful at driving them, far worse than even the clumsiest of broom riders or carpet flyers – and there was a flying carpet crash or incident at least once a fortnight. In some circles there were even murmurs that the Ministry should put an outright ban on them.  

“You’re welcome to get the train if you want, love. Good luck getting there without me though!”

Andromeda huffed and puffed, but eventually relented and got in the passenger side. The inside of the car was one of the most confusing things she had ever encountered. There must have been almost a dozen different nobbles in the car, with numerous symbols and numbers that made absolutely no sense to her whatsoever.

Ted got in on the driver’s side and after a brief look at a map he revved the engine, thus beginning her first of many forays in muggle vehicles.

 ~ ~ ~ 

Andromeda was starting to regret her decision not to just get changed in the back of Ted’s car – he had promised to get out and not to look and it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but she felt embarrassed getting undressed in the back seat of a car.

The smell of fried meat and pancakes wafted in from the Little Chef restaurant and flooded the humid cubicle. It was one of those moments where you questioned everything that had happened in your life to lead up to that moment. She was getting changed into a loud muggle dress in a dingy toilet cubicle in a muggle service station, which was a weird sort of complex of petrol stations, toilets and restaurants which were strategically stationed at various parts of the muggle motorways.

It seemed quite sad that such was the struggle of transportation for muggles - that whole businesses operated around them having to stop for food or toilet breaks in the middle of travelling somewhere. You didn’t need to stop for a toilet break when getting a port key or using the Floo network – that’s for sure!

Andromeda opened the door after squeezing into the dress and stared at herself in the mirror by the sinks. It was almost like an out of body experience. She was certain that the person looking back at her was herself, but at the same time she knew that it simply couldn’t be. The muggle dress that Ted had picked out for her to wear made her look, well, like a muggle.

The dress, which Ted had quipped was “Slytherin green” was in-fact a much brighter green than Salazar’s favoured dark emerald. It was a very bright green, like the zest of a lime, with a bright white trim around the collar and the bottom of the sleeves – it almost made her feel like a key-lime pie. It was a far brighter shade of fabric than Andromeda would ever willingly wear, but perhaps what was the most disconcerting was how short a cut the dress was. It fell a few inches above her knee, which, especially given her lack of tights, by her Mother’s strict standards was nothing short of scandalous.

She stared into the mirror expecting, or maybe just hoping that eventually she would feel a bit better about herself, when suddenly a stranger tapped her on the shoulder.

“Oh my god I love your dress, hun! You look rocking, girl! Where did you get it?” said the muggle woman, who Andromeda guessed was roughly her own age, if not a few years older. She had fair skin, with even fairer hair and was wearing the wackiest dress Andromeda had ever seen. It was purple, but it was also orange and red and yellow – it was enough to give you a headache just looking at it.

“Sorry I err… it was a present, from a friend, you see,” Andromeda said nervously, wondering what her Mother would think if she knew she was talking to not just a muggle-born wizard, but a proper full-on muggle girl.  

“Ah, well you tell that friend they have great taste! Say, sorry if I’m wrong, but you look fairly liberal with a dress that short. Here, take a flyer!”

Andromeda took the leaflet, mumbled a slight thanks and looked down and it as the stranger scurried away.

OUR BODY – OUR CHOICE!    

On the 27th October our elected politicians will make a decision on whether WE have the right to legal abortion.

We’re marching in London on SUNDAY JULY 30TH

Will you be there? Remember – WE SPOKE out about the right to contraception and THEY HAD to listen!

Make sure YOUR VOICE IS HEARD!

Andromeda really wasn’t sure on what the general consensus of contraception and abortions was in muggle quarters.

Contraception was easy enough – it was a simple spell that was readily available and easy to learn for any teenage wizard worth his salt. It had been around for centuries and whilst it was a little controversial – the vast majority of the pureblood men and politicians who opposed it were all likely using it and cheating on their wives anyway.

Abortion though, well, it was fair to say that certainly was a bit of a taboo subject in the Wizarding world, especially among pureblood families.

It was quite difficult for a lot of pure-bloods to get pregnant in the first place these days, which her mother put down to inbreeding – and in years gone by she had never missed an opportunity to make snide remarks about her sister-in-law, their Aunt Walburga, who had married her cousin, Uncle Orion.

In the more recent history however, her Mother liked to keep a low profile at Black family gatherings. It was one thing to have married your cousin, but it was another thing altogether to have the shame of your firstborn daughter having an abortion at 16.

It was never publicly revealed which Slytherin boy had impregnated her sister, but Andromeda certainly had a few candidates in mind. It was probably Yaxley – that was certainly the most popular rumour, but there was no guarantee that it wasn’t Lucius or even Thorfinn Rowle.

Andromeda even suspected that such was Bellatix’s promiscuity that perhaps even she herself did not know who it had been. But what she had known was fury like nothing she had seen before. Their mother had been incredulous – and their father, well, Andromeda had never before seen him so disgusted at someone who wasn’t a muggle or a blood traitor.

“Wow! Look at you! Barely even recognized you and what’s that, have you grown legs? Consider me impressed,” said Ted, as he smirked. He hid it well, but Andromeda did not fail to notice his eyes lingering on her legs for longer than a momentary glance.

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Andromeda said, biting her lip as she got back into the car.

“Imagine what your family would say if they could see you right now! Where did you tell them you were going today?” Ted asked as he drank from his bottle of Tizer.

“I told Mother I was meeting a friend, not a lie by any means. I told Cissy where I was really going and who I was really meeting though of course.”

“You’re gonna be in the right shit if you ever fall out with her! The stuff she’s got on you…”

“Why would we ever fall out? She is my little sister! We tell each other everything Ted, we always have done. You know what Bellatrix is like. Cissy and I always had to stick together! I am not sure that she entirely approves of our err… courting… but she would never tell Mother, Father or Bellatrix about it. Besides, like I said, she tells me everything too. I know all about her little love affair with Fabian Prewett.”

“Well, if you’re sure you can trust her,” Ted said nonchalantly as he turned on the car radio and flickered around with it a bit.

A slow, brooding guitar melody got under way, before the thundering sound of crashing upbeat drums kicked in.

“Well that’s ironic. Fitting song for us, I reckon,” Ted remarked.

I SEE A RED DOOR AND I WANT IT PAINTED BLACK

NO COLOURS ANYMORE I WANT THEM TO TURN BLACK

I SEE THE GIRLS WALK BY DRESSED IN THEIR SUMMER CLOTHES

I HAVE TO TURN MY HEAD UNTIL MY DARKNESS GOES

“Cracking band, The Stones,” he said, strumming one hand on the dashboard. “Got nicked on drugs charges the other week too, helluva story that. Imagine that. Laying in ya’ cell and Keith Richards and Mick bloody Jagger walk in. Christ.”

“Drugs charges?” Andromeda asked. “I do not understand.”

“Drugs are illegal substances. You can get arrested for buying or selling them on. Not too sure I can think of a wizarding equivalent.”

“What do these drugs do exactly if they are illegal?”

“Well, some of them are a bit like alcohol I s’pose. Bring you up, take you down. You know liquid luck, right?”

“Well, I have read about it, yes.”

“Yeah, exactly, read about it. Incredibly rare. Incredibly expensive stuff. Even a posh young witch like you’s nevva come by any…”

Andromeda flushed slightly at being called a “posh” witch.

“Right so with these drugs though, you can get a similar experience to Liquid Luck for what the average man earns in a few hours work. A lot of people just do them casually for a bit of fun now and then, but some people get proper addicted to some of them. End up ruining their lives over ‘em.”

“Oh. That sounds awful,” sighed Andromeda.    

“Yeah,” agreed Ted. “But the old bill only went and busted Keith’s gaff didn’t they? They turned up at the house and found everyone high as a kite! Caught Jagger with a bit of speed, not that bad really. Charged Keith for letting people smoke cannabis in his house, what a load of nonsense. Harmless stuff that is” he said, shaking his head and looking annoyed, then he started laughing. “That’s not the best bit though! You know how the plod reckon they know they were all high? Well, they reckon that Jagger’s missus was wearing nothing but a fur rug when they turned up. A fur rug, ha-ha can you imagine them walking in and finding that?”

“That does sound like quite the shock. That poor girl,”

“They’ve got to be careful though, they have. Newspaper reckons that one of the other guys there, not in the band, just some random toff, well they reckon this bloke had a load of heroin on him. That’s proper dodgy stuff that is.”

“It is?” Andromeda asked curiously. “What is it?”

“Proper nasty stuff. One of the most addictive drugs out there. You ever see a homeless person off their rocker, they’re probably on smack. Ruins lives that stuff does. You get someone hooked on that – they’ll do just about anything for you to get another hit of it.”

~ ~ ~ 

Southend High Street was in many ways much like Diagon Alley. There was a vast array of smells, sounds and sights to ensnare one’s senses, with an endless stream of adults and children alike bustling around all of the shops. Whilst it was alike in that sort of sense – it was also in just as many ways completely different, it was almost like being on another planet, such was the contrast.

“There ya go!” Ted said, as he thrust a strange, yellow ice cream which had what looked almost like a little brown stick pointing out of the middle into her hand.

“Thank you, but err, what is it may I ask?” she enquired.

“That is the finest ice cream you’ll get in the country, love. Lemon ice. It’s sort of like a mixture between ice cream and sorbet. Rossi’s finest! With a chocolate flake, Cadbury’s of course! No idea why they call it a 99 though, they’re only a half crown each. Could buy like 8 of them for a pound.”

Andromeda took a slight lick, then a nibble and she did have to admit it was very nice indeed, although in the summer heat she found it was melting rather rapidly.

“I will never understand muggle money,” she sighed.

“Probably for the best anyway. Rumour is they’re getting rid of half crowns soon anyway! Mental if you ask me,” he snorted indignantly.

“Right well,” he pondered whilst looking out into the crowd of people ahead of them, whilst intermittently slurping big chunks of his own lemon ice. “Dad said they’d meet us outside Keddies at 1 o clock. Now by my watch that should be just about…

“Wotcher!”

Andromeda jumped slightly as Ted’s father popped out from out of nowhere and slapped his hand on Ted’s shoulder. He was slightly shorter than his son, as well as slightly rounder, but there was certainly a strong resemblance there. At a guess she would have said he was about 40.

“Alright, Dad!” Ted hollered, as he embraced his father warmly, being careful not to spill any of his ice cream on his father’s shirt. Andromeda had now spotted a slightly younger and slightly slender looking women, with dark brown hair standing alongside Ted’s father, who she assumed was Ted’s mother.

“Mum, Dad, meet Andromeda…”

“Wotcher,” his Dad said to Andromeda, as he pulled out his big hand and gave hers a firm shake. Andomeda offered a faint hello in reply. “Robert Tonks. But everyone calls me Bobby. This is my wife, Agata…”

“It is pleasure to meet you, Andromeda,” she said, in a vaguely Eastern European accent that Andromeda could not quite pick out.

“Teddy has told us so much about you. You are even more beautiful than he said you were.”

Andromeda flushed slightly at the thought of him telling his parents that he thought she was beautiful. She had to think fast to deflect away from it.

“Teddy?” Andromeda asked sarcastically at Ted. She had never heard of him being used by that name before. He blushed slightly. Ted’s father ushered them to start walking north and they continued their conversation as they trekked through the high-street.  

“I call him Teddy ever since he was little boy. He was Mummy’s little teddy bear,” Agata teased gently. Ted shot her a hideous look filled with embarrassment.  

“Oh don’t you worry, Andromeda. I’m sure there’s plenty more he’s kept quiet from you. We’ll fill you in on all of the secrets!” Robert said, winking once at Andromeda and then at Ted, who shot him a look that was halfway between anger and fear. “I hope that ice cream’s all you’ve eaten, Ted. Corr. Me and your mother taking you out for lunch with your missus and you’re on the ice creams already! What are ya like ehh, son?”

“You know what they say, Dad. Like father, like son!” Ted shot back.

“You calling your old man fat?” Robert scoffed incredulously.

“I’m not callin’ you skinny!” Ted joked.

“Bloody cheek! ‘Ere Andromeda he’s only showing off cause you’re here. Bet your parents don’t let you talk back to them like that, ehh?” Robert said, sneering at his son.

“Well… err no. Not quite,” she replied.

Ted and his father seemed to be exchanging in good natured banter, not uncommon to see between fellow pureblood students, but the idea of a parent and son or daughter talking to each other like that was a very alien concept to her. The Black family were all about respect, well, when Bellatrix wasn’t involved she supposed.

“Do you like seafood, Andromeda?” Agata asked her.

“Yes, I do quite like fish I suppose,” Andromeda replied politely.

“Well that is perfect. We take you to best seafood restaurant in all of Southend,” Ted’s mother said proudly, as they finally reached the end of the high-street and caught a glimpse of the sea-front. The tide was in and the crisp, blue waves were shining in the distance.