#I’ve never gotten more than 200 views before

[catboybiologist]

Slightly late monthly journal!

First off, the spreadsheet has been updated:

Nothing too drastic here, especially compared to my initial growth spurt. But still… there’s so much, yet so little to talk about.

I’ve been on spiro for a longer time now, and recently increased my estradiol dose. Note that my levels check was before the increased dose- the dates aren’t completely coordinated (they are on my private spreadsheet for my own personal tracking, don’t worry). It’s looking pretty good. Testosterone is well within target levels. E is about the same, which is much lower than I would like it. My endo says that 100-200 is “minimally acceptable”, and wants to shoot even higher than that. That’s comforting, in a way- I’m the slightest bit frustrated that some changes aren’t happening too quickly, but that gives a very distinct avenue for improvement. Ultimately, I’m gonna switch to injection monotherapy, probably around the same time I start prog. So the big change is decreased T. What has that done to me?

First off, the hard measurements. There’s really no surprises here. I’m losing weight, which tracks with my general diet and an increase in exercise levels. It seems to be happening faster than normal, though. Which, is pretty easily explainable by a new variable in the equation: adderall. I started adderall in the middle of the month. I’ve used it sparingly, but everyone I know that takes it told me that weight loss is pretty much unavoidable. I’m certainly still above any point where my weight would be worrying, but I’m gonna have to keep an eye on it. Especially if I want fat tits. As for how the weight loss is happening, I’m very happy with what’s going on. My bust and hip measurements are holding steady, while my waist and underbust are still slightly going down. 

I do know that there’s another source of weight loss, however: muscle mass. With the increase in exercise level has come an increase in exertion for the same results, which has made me slightly dismayed. This is the main HRT effect that I was a little scared of. But honestly, I really only care about the muscle that helps me hike and swim- and if I maintain that better, I think it won’t be too much of an issue. I was never some pariah of physical condition, so I think with training I can even improve my hiking stamina. That’ll be very necessary with my future backpacking plans.

The main thing that I’m REALLY happy about is that, if I squint, I think I can slowly start to see the first hints of facial changes start to come in. They’re subtle, of course. A weird one is that my nose is literally straighter. Y’all don’t see it, but the reason I still shield my face (despite being easily identifiable at this point if you saw me irl and knew this account) is mostly insecurity about my nose and chin. My nose actually physically curves to my right when viewed from the front, and in general, is a huge, classic Roman nose. Looking at head on progress pictures, its actually starting to straighten out. I thought I was imagining things, but I checked in with a couple friends before and after pictures of several years on HRT, and yeah- their noses are different, usually smaller and more symmetrical. Saying that this is a huge relief to me would be an understatement. Additionally, I was insecure about my boxy jawline, but for some reason, it seems to work as a femme feature of my face now- I think slight cheek restructuring helps frame it better. Still not so sure how the chin is gonna turn out. But hey- I started HRT thinking that I would for sure need FFS to pass, but now, I'm far less concerned. I'll at least give it two years.

I’ve also gotten a lot of interesting comments. Several labmates and family members that don’t know I’m transitioning have remarked that my skin looks healthier, and I look younger. I’ve also had noticeable mental health improvement, so I think most people think I’m on some kind of self improvement kick. I mentioned skin care as part of that. We’ll see how long the excuse holds- probably a while, as the changes are so, so subtle at the moment. But shit, I’m only three months in. I’m thrilled.

There’s still no getting rid of my beard shadow. Even though the growth rate of my facial hair has noticeably decreased, the thickness of the basal hairs will always add shading to my face. When I started HRT, I thought it wouldn’t bother me that much until I was ready to socially transition- but tbh, it’s starting to look glaring to me. I’m looking into starting laser sometime in January, and hopefully that’ll help.

Which brings me to the emotional changes. Holy FUCK what a month its been. I’m not gonna expose all of my dirty laundry. But, a mixture of some long term anxieties and a few particular events led to a classic mid-20s “what the fuck am I doing with my life” crisis. One of those long term anxieties was a thought I’m sure many of y’all are familiar with: “I started HRT. Now what? How the fuck am I going to socially transition?”

For a couple days, I was very seriously considering quitting grad school and academia. I’m past that. Tragically, I love science a little too much. I do, however, need a break. I talked to my advisor about taking a hiatus, and he’s fully supportive of the idea. And conveniently, that also provides me with a clean way to simply disappear, and come back as a woman. A nice little break to allow me to socially transition.

But anyways. Here’s my big point here: if I went through something similar pre-HRT, I would’ve reacted completely differently. I would’ve shoved those thoughts deep and let them simmer as a general, background malaise that I would just stew in and suffer. Now? I cried. A lot. Actual fucking tears. I went through a few days of sharp sadness, and then actually fucking processed those emotions. What the fuck? That’s new. It’s insane. I wouldn’t have had the emotional capacity to that before. 

I’m elated. It’s wonderful. It’s a more than welcome change.

But yeah. Steady as she goes. Progress is a little stalled, but both me and my provider are adamant about getting that E up. And I’m still making slow progress as it is.

Very quick NSFW notes after this button.

The final note: sexual function. With the low T… yup, my downstairs functionality has decreased. My ejaculate is clear, and often happens without being fully erect. That said… there’s no way in hell that I would ever trade getting that back for what I have now. My libido is still comes in waves, and is crazy when it comes. The feelings I get from intimate situations now are incredible beyond belief. 

#trans #trans journal #transgender #transfem #trans hrt #hrt #transfemme hrt #transitioning #trans progress

[pxrxcxa]

Faster 

✶ One shot

Pairing | Eddie Munson x Fem reader

Post summary | Reader goes to watch one of Eddie's most important races but when a dangerous manoeuvre almost ends in disaster, she helps Eddie calm down in the only way she can.

What to expect | 18 + smut

Post Warnings | Rough M oral, spanking & just all around rough unprotected p in v (have safe S kids)

Word count | 3.5 K Word Count.

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

Authors Note | This was a request - @im-alexnc thank you for your idea! I hope I've been able to do it justice and you enjoyed it :) I realised I have a problem (word vomit) because I wanted to keep this under a 1k WC & I legit can't! I really need to develop the skill of writing good, shorter stories - so if you read the whole thing, thank you :)

“How did you meet this guy again?” I rolled my eyes at my friend Clara; I could hear the judgment dripping off her tone even over the roar of the race cars whipping around the track at 200 miles an hour. A group of loud men wearing sports apparel with the colour of who they were supporting in the race, pushed past us messily and I had to reach out to grab Clara out of the way as one of them stumbled dangerously, almost drenching her with his beer can.

“I told you, when I was travelling last year and broke down, it was just outside this town called Hawkins.” She shot me a confused look as we found our seats along the crowded bleachers, we were on the top row with a great view as the cars rushed by at breakneck speeds and made the ground beneath us rattle, the sun blaring down on the backs of our necks as the heated metal under us burnt our exposed things in our thin tights.

“Yeah I know, it’s this small town in the middle of nowhere. Anyways.” I turned away from her face to duck and weave my head around the crowd as I tried to spot the familiar flash of red and black in the sea of cars blurring together, I squinted as the sun reflected off the mass of them as they sped around our side of the track once more. 

“And the mechanics I took my car to– Eddie was working there, before his racing career took off at least.” I smiled and ducked my chin as the memory of our first meeting made my cheeks blush, I’d never met someone so carefree and charming. So when he’d told me about his eight-round championship played out at racetracks across North America, my travel plans had taken a slight detour. 

“He’s the reason you haven’t come back to college?” She guessed, disapproval colouring her features. 

”I’ll come back eventually…” I dodged, avoiding her eyes. 

Clara pressed her lips together in frustration as the lie left mine, she smiled and wrapped her hands around my arm to pull me into her side, mumbling that she missed me. She was on a quick weekend break from school to house-sit for her parents, and I’d been lucky enough that Eddie’s race this week had been in the same state. Looking down now at the matching scar on her arm that we’d gotten together at the tender age of ten, when we tried – and failed – to jump across the river near our childhood homes, made me miss her agonizingly. I didn’t, however, miss her habit of being brutally honest. 

“I’ve heard race car drivers are all arrogant man whores.” She pressed her lips together, eyeing me suspiciously as her gaze fell on a group of girls nearby that had less clothing on than if they’d been wearing bikini’s, screaming as they waved their signs madly. 

“Well not Eddie.” I said with conviction, the image of his flushed, exuberant face when he’d see me after a race, stealing my mind. 

“You sure about that? How well do you really know this guy?” Her words sent an unwelcome picture of Eddie surrounded by a similar group of fawning fans straight through me. 

“Well enough.” My snarky response was cut off as the intangible feeling of competition spiked and the smell of excitement soaked into the air, the buzzing bodies packed in around us shot up in their seats, cutting off my view of the track down below as the racers began their final lap. 

I jumped up from mine, pulling Clara up with me as I bounced on the tips of my feet over the crowd, peering down as the cars looped around to our end of the stadium. The ground reverberated as the sound of their roaring engines sped towards us. 

“Which one is he?” Clara shouted over the loud jeering, tilting her head near mine. I bit my lip as my eyes roamed over the blur of colours weaving in and out of each other, my stomach clenched with anticipation as the unforgettable pattern of Eddie’s car slipped through the neck to line up with the leader of the pack. The dark car in the lead revved his engine violently as Eddie closed the gap between them. I dug my nails into my friends arm as the distance between the two race cars turned non-existent, their wheels practically pressing in on each other. 

“There, the red one.” I groaned and pointed, not tearing my eyes away from nail biting scene in front of me. 

“Damn, he’s gonna win.” Clara’s voice was filled with surprise before it turned to horror, because for a split second, it looked like he had. The official had leant froward from the starting post and raised the chequered flag as the cars raced towards him, Eddie’s inching forward every millisecond. 

It was just a piece of cloth with black and white squares on it, but the flag meant more than everything to Eddie, he’d do anything for it. 

I wasn’t professional driver, but I had eyes. Just as Eddie threw his throttle into full power mere feet from the line, the driver next to him eased off of his and nudged the nose of his car into the back side of Eddie’s as he dropped back behind him.

The entire arena held their breath as if, in almost slow motion, the clang of metal on metal surrounded in our ears and Eddie’s car began to turn the wrong way. 

It was a testament to his skills the that unlawful move didn’t send Eddie spinning horrifically across the track into the barricade. Smoke billowed out beneath his tires as he slammed on his breaks and spun the wheel as his car swung back and forth, redirecting it’s power as he unbearably came to a standstill facing the oncoming race cars.

“Shit.” Clara’s words were drowned out as an internal scream locked it’s self in my jaw as I watched, frozen, as the speeding cars slammed on their own brakes and swerved to miss the red race car stopped in the middle of the track. 

I hadn’t realised I’d closed my eyes until Clara gently pinched my arm, rubbing it soothingly as she muttered over and over that he was okay. Not believing her, I peeked through my lashes to spot the flag being waved as the other cars crossed the finishing line, I swivelled my head to watch Eddie as he sped towards his pit stop, barely slowly to a full stop before he ripped himself from the driver’s seat and tore his helmet off, his long curls pressed to his forehead in sweat. His shoulders sagged in defeat as his crew chief clapped him on the back and the rest of his team swarmed out towards the car. 

I spun back to Clara quickly and pressed my keys into her hand before weaving my way through the thickening crowd. 

“Where are you going?” She shouted out after me as celebrating patrons slipped between us. 

“I’ll meet you back at the hotel for dinner like we planned.” I yelled back as she disappeared into the crowd, hoping she’d heard me. I headed straight for the back steps that led to the exclusive motorhomes for all the drivers, shouldering my way through rough hands that shoved me back and trying to avoid getting nabbed by TV crews and journalists, until the moving crowd thinned. Looming security guards blocked my entry with angry looks until I pulled my lanyard free from my shirt. With muttered apologies they waved me through the barricade, quickly stepping in behind me to cut of some reporters to that tried to follow. 

I headed straight for the portable trailer plastered in Eddie’s teams logo as I side stepped the other drivers that stood in random places surrounded by interviewers and cameras, jogging up the metal steps as I paused with my hand raised against the door, the sharp noises inside breaking through my concentration.  

The loud crash of breaking glass and his low swearing had me walking through the door cautiously as I stared at the surroundings. The overhead cupboards were callously strewn open and dazingly shards of glass were littering the wooden floors. My gaze flickered up to where Eddie was cowering over the bench as he brought up a glass full of dark liquid to his panting lips, drowning the entire thing until the last drop. 

“Eddie?” I muttered into the silence as I pulled the door shut tightly behind me sliding the lock into place to douse us back in darkness. 

I jumped as he spun around to lean against the counter, facing me. He was still in his racing uniform, his helmet tossed into the corner of the couch beside him. I ran my eyes over his clothed chest as it heaved, imagining the taught muscles beneath it. I gulped nervously as I met his dark and heavy gaze staring straight though me. 

“Damn Fernani.” He yelled, smashing the empty glass in his hand against the tiled wall behind the sink, I flinched as the jagged pieces ricocheted across the bench, waiting for his breathing to even before I carefully crossed the space between us. 

“You okay?” I asked hopelessly, already knowing the answer. 

“Of course.” He snapped, meeting my eyes with a scathing glare. “He almost killed me andstole my win.” It was clear what Eddie considered a worse crime. 

I reached up to cup his cheeks as I stepped lightly over the broken glass, tracing my nails across his parted lips lightly. Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed as he reached up to grip my wrists. 

“I know you’re angry.” He scoffed against my fingers as he cocked an eyebrow sarcastically. My stomach knotted as my own frustration flared up at his attitude. I pressed my hands tighter against his skin as his eyes flew open in surprise. 

“I know you’re angry.” I repeated, angling my face closer to his until I could taste the whiskey coating his lips. “So let me help you with that.” 

His stare flew up to mine as I breathed the words between us. In a flash he ripped my feet from the ground, making me wrap my legs around his waist as I lost the feeling of steady ground beneath me. The multiple layers of padding between our bodies made me groan out in frustration as I grinded down against his hips. His lips latched onto mine roughly as we both fought for control, Eddie winning easily as his tongue slipped in sneakily to caress mine.

I twisted my fingers in the knots of his curly hair, tugging softly as he wrapped his arms around me tight enough to crush my bones, but I didn’t complain as his lips devoured me. Glass shattered underneath his boots as he walked across the floor with me still wrapped around his hips, saving me from the dangerous pieces. As if we were both trying to outdo each other, our moans turned loud and heated as he slammed me into the far wall, grinning against my chest as I cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. 

“Fuck y-“ He pulled his mouth from the top of my bra as his hands traced my nipples through the lacy, itchy fabric. 

“Watch it.” He cut me off as he crushed his lips to mine again, trapping my bottom one between his teeth as he bit down lightly as a warning, his eyes starring daggers into mine as I whimpered against him, submitting to his anger for the night. 

I dug my nails into his shoulders as he pinned me against the wall, using his body weight to hold me up as he untangled his hands from me – only to quite literally tear my shirt off of me. He stole my yell of protest from my lips as he wrapped me back up in his arms and turned away to drop me down onto the comfy couch that lined most of the back wall. Eddie stared down at me hungrily as I pouted up at him through my lashes, reaching out to caress his raging boner that was struggling against his thick cargo pants as he towered over me. 

“You really wanna help?” He smirked, fumbling with the buttons of his pants as I sat up on my knees, leaning forward on the pillows as I reached out to hold onto his thighs to steady myself. 

I moaned seductively in response and chewed on my lip as Eddie ate up the sight in front of him, swearing as he fumbled with his pant line. My tits swelled over my tight half cup bra as I played with my nipples through the fabric, waiting for him to reveal himself to me. I giggled and leaned forward slowly to replace his frustrated hands with my experienced ones, slipping the buttons through the holes until I could slide down the zipper, exposing the dark stain on his boxes from the pre cum leaking from Eddie’s tip. 

He threw his head back with a deep groan as I freed him from the thin material of his boxers, running my hand slowly along the length of him. I flashed my eyes up excitedly to watch the moans of pleasure tumble from his lips as I slowly licked from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, flicking my tongue around as I lapped up the pre cum dripping from it. 

“Fuck… you’re a tease.” Eddie reached down to tangle his hands in my hair, knotting it together as he tried to pull my face forward. I splayed my hands up against his stomach, swirling my fingers in the soft tufts of hair that trailed down it as he pressed his hard tip against my lips angrily, feeling for an opening. 

“Open your mouth.” I gasped and gagged as he shot forward into my face, forcing my lips apart as he slid his whole cock down my throat ferociously. My hands fell from him as one of them moved to tickle his balls and the other wrapped around his thigh to keep me steady. Tears sprung to my eyes as Eddie snapped at me to look up at him, spit pooled in the corner of my mouth as he jerked further into me. 

Embarrassingly erotic sounds filled the room as Eddie fucked my face, I moaned as he gripped my chin, helping me keep my jaw apart as the size of him began to make me ache. I couldn’t do much as he had his way with my mouth, but I swirled my tongue around the throbbing veins of his cock as he thrusted and faltered over me. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like that.” I looked up through my heavy lashes at his flushed face, soaking wetness pooled in my panties as I watched him come undone over the feeling of me. He reached down roughly to wipe the corner of my bruised lips before leaning over to slap my ass, my cry of pain was muffled as he spanked me a second time, leaving a raw, red handprint behind. I stumbled forward on my knees slightly as he wrenched my panties up between my ass, the taught fabric rubbing against my swollen clit as Eddie purred down at me squirming on the ground in front of him.

A trail of spit rolled down my chin as he pulled his cock, glistening and angry, from my mouth, he slapped it against my cheek as I let my tongue fall from my between my teeth, reaching up to stroke it as he grinded into my hand. 

“Gonna make me cum, fuck baby. C’mere.” He ripped himself from me to reach down and wrench me to my feet, spinning me around and knocking me against the couch. I gasped and leant forward on my elbows on top of the back of it as Eddie positioned my body how he wanted. Emptiness pulsed between my legs as he smacked them apart, reaching between them to rub at clit trapped beneath my tights. Eddie pushed down on my back as I moaned and grinded down onto his hand, begging for more. 

“How bad do you want me?” He grunted, the couch lolled beneath us as he moved to press in behind me, rubbing his dick into my clothed entrance as he pushed down on the back of my head, twisting and tugging on my loose hair as I arched back further into the air for him. 

“Bad Eddie – please.” I didn’t have to plead for a second longer as he pinched a piece of the fabric covering my ass, and ripped it between his fingers, tearing the fabric away until he had exposed my pussy waiting for him excitedly. He ran a finger over my wet panties as I shuddered beneath him. 

“All for me? You like it when I’m angry, don’t you?” I bit down on the pillow pressed into my face as he tore the pink fabric to the side and ploughed into me, ignoring my screams as the size of him spread me apart. Eddie was ruthless with each thrust as he pushed down deeper and deeper, wrapping his large hands around the soft skin of my hips as I tried to wiggle away from him. His moans and gasps drowned mine out as he curled over me, pressing his urgent lips against my naked back, leaving tingling kisses as he trailed down my spine. 

“Faster.” I moaned against the pillow, pain shot through my skull as Eddie wrapped his hand in my hair and ripped me up from the couch. 

“Say that again.” He demanded as he slowed his pace, thrusting further into me instead as I whimpered and twitched beneath him, his cock was thrusting awful things into my mind, thoughts that would make the devil blush. 

He let go of my hair to snake his hand around my chest, pulling down on my bra as he tugged and pinched at my hard nipples, smiling against my skin as I screamed out his name. 

“Say it.” But I couldn’t, as his hand moved around the front of my thigh to trap my clit between his fingers, rolling it back and forth under his professional hands, I collapsed to pieces, feeling my orgasm hurtling full speed towards me like a freight train. 

I turned my head to the side as I gasped out between the moans Eddie’s fingers were electing from my body, twisting far enough to make eye contact with him. Sweat rolled down his neck and disappeared beneath his racing jacket as his curls shook with each of his movements, chagrin flowed through me as I realised that he was still practically dressed and I was entirely ruined beneath him, my thin clothes torn to shreds strewn across the floor. 

His eyes entirely darkened as they glanced up to meet mine. “Faster.” I gasped; my eyes fluttering shut as he turned frantic. The skin between our bodies stung as he reamed forward into me, sending shocks of unlawful pleasure with each thrust, the sound of our bodies becoming one echoed around the room and probably the whole stadium, our moans turning into a chorus of pleasure as I screamed into the cushiony fabric and Eddie groaned my name. 

I moved my hand to replace his between my thighs as he moved to grab both of my hips, pulling me back to meet his as his orgasm rippled through him, he tensed against me as his breath fell from him in huffs, caressing my skin as my own fingers sent me hurtling over the edge. He clamped down on me to hold me in place as I tried to shoot forward away from him, the combined feeling of him realising his load inside of me and my pulsing walls was almost too much. 

Eddie gasped and laughed as he pulled himself from me, I slumped in a heap against the pillows drenched in our sweat, feeling streaks of his cum drip down my legs as we separated. I turned over to my side, pulling what remained of my tights from my legs and sneakily using them to clean up the gift that Eddie had left on me. I scowled and leant forward to rip the cigarette from his lips as he went to light it. 

“You were supposed to quit.” I berated, laughing as he pulled me across his lap, running his hands with a feather light touch over my body as I gazed up at him, happy to see his carefree smile back in its rightful place and that I’d helped rid him of his anger. 

“Screw Fernani and his trophy, I’ve got an even better one right here.” He smirked. 

“Are you calling me a trophy girlfriend?” I scoffed, raising my brow at him as I returned his smile. 

“Actually… I was thinking more trophy wife.” 

Eddie Tag List } @mayafatimakhan @edwardmunsonsslut @lacrymosa-24 @mavex @fckyeahlames @harrys-tittie @eddieshot86 @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @chickennug90 @miss-momma-drama @stardustmunson @luceneraium @eddiesgffff @sammararaven @nightless @dotslabyrinth @relocatedheads @princessbubblehoe @muggleluna @sagittariughs @gloryekaterina @e0509 @prettysauceyy @urlivingdeadgirl @crimsonsabbath @lem0nb0iii @callsfromshe @lelenikki @bebe0701 @bratckerman @the-tacos-unite-blog @extravagantplant @plethoravellichor @justmesadgirl @corrodedcorpses @fanfictioniseverything @callsfromshe @im-alexnc @marsrox @eddie-swhore @kge01-blog @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @estellabookreader @sadbitchfangirl

Also Readers - if anyone is looking for a slow burn Eddie x y/n, check out my Opposite Ends series :)

Copyright © 2022 by P.McCann

All rights reserved.

#eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie fluff #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie fanfic #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson smut #eddie x you

[lerildeal]

It’s big Hollow Minds hours

I just want these sad teens to be ok 🥺

#toh spoilers #toh luz #the owl house #luz noceda #the owl house hunter #drew this cos I can’t stop thinking about Hollow minds #holy shit you guys #that was alot #I mean I loved it and it was a really good episode but it was alot #I kinda like the way I drew this #but it also kinda looks like it was drawn by a 12 yo #but ya win some ya loose some #I just gotta post this before I forgot I drew it #it’s done in more of a graphic-ie style which I like #but there were some brushes I haven’t used before #in other news my most recent flip book was blessed by the YT algorithm #it’s weird #I’ve never gotten more than 200 views before #now I have 2k #wack #but I’m happy it’s getting seen though #oh but in other other news I got an undercut! I’m like #super fluffy now #I didn’t go all crazy or anything #oh and I guess for context I’ve been wearing a low pony tail for 15 years now #it’s nice to have the change #I do a lot of personal comics that I don’t post at all #maybe I should post some of them? #give insite to the man (masc lesbian) behind the mask? #but who knows I just go with the wind

[butwhyduh]

The Farm

Damian Wayne x Jon Kent

Summary: just 2 boys in love but won’t admit it. I have the attention span of a butterfly so this is as close as I get to a slow burn lmao. I just think they are adorable and I headcanon Damian as demisexual. I did actually age them above 18 but this is sfw. Only a little kissing. There’s a bigot but he gets punched.

“I heard about the farm,” Damian said as they sat on a rooftop in New York. “Sorry.” They were drinking milkshakes after saving the city. Well Jon was as Damian had a vegan smoothie instead.

“Yeah, they foreclosed,” Jon said, his bright blue eyes uncharacteristically stony. “Thanks. Just wasn’t expecting it is all.”

“You know I could help you.. financially. If you need,” Damian offered carefully. Jon shifted in his seat and took a drink of his shake.

“It’s not your job. I’ll figure out how to keep it. Don’t worry,” Jon said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Congrats on vet school. Not that it’s a surprise. You were top of your class.”

“Oh thanks. But seriously, I have no problem writing a check right now, Jon,” Damian emphasized. Jon stared at him silently. It was so tempting to let Damian solve his problems but that wasn’t the Kent way.

“I don’t know,” Jon said shifting uncomfortably. Damian noted that it wasn’t a no.

“I will be going to school in Metropolis in the fall. The farm in Smallville is a lot closer to the university than my place in Gotham,” Damian said hoping to come off as casual. Apparently not as Jon almost fell off the roof in shock.

“Live- with me,” he asked, his eyebrows rose quickly.

“Oh, I suppose. Yes, that is what I would be proposing,” Damian answered. Jon looked at him with wide eyes before clearing his throat and softening the look on his face to more neutral. Damian definitely wasn’t meaning ‘moving in’ moving in. He was just being practical. He wasn’t in love with Jon the same way Jon was head over heels for Damian since he was like 13.

“It would be practical for us both,” he said and Jon relaxed. Yep, normal Damian not thinking of the social meaning of his words.

“I don’t have a butler,” Jon warned. “And I sometimes forget to do laundry or dishes.”

“Then I will make a chore chart,” Damian answered and Jon’s heart soared a little at the domestics of it all. Jon nodded with a grin.

“So when do I get my roommate?” Jon asked lightly. Or what he hoped was lightly. His farm was saved and Damian was moving in. He was surprised he wasn’t levitating yet.

“I need to sell my apartment first. And pack,” Damian contemplated. “Also I need to buy the farm. I’ll need 4 days.”

“4?!? I mean- that’s fine,” Jon answered. He began immediately imagining all the work he needed to do before Damian could move in. “You work fast.”

“Yes, money talks,” Damian answered as if it was normal for a 20 year old to say. Jon nodded and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

True to his words, a moving truck showed up 4 days later. Jon had cleaned and organized everything, even scrubbing the walls and sweeping the barn. The workers quickly set up everything in the spare room just as Damian arrived.

Damian arriving was a sight Jon would never forget. Damian wore a black turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up and a tan pair of dress pants over shiny black leather shoes as he carried in a large paper bag of produce. Damian had grown so much from the tiny 13 year old Jon had first known. He was now a full inch taller than Jon and probably 10 lbs heavier. It was funny since Jon was the one currently running around as Superman.

Damian sat his bag on the kitchen counter and wiped sweat from his brow. Jon was much more casually dressed in old blue jeans and a white t shirt with a rolled up and open red plaid button down over it. An old blue baseball cap was thrown over backwards on his head and little curls stuck out.

“You brought food. You know this is a farm, right?” Jon said with a smile. “We’re kinda known for having food.”

“I brought food to cook tonight,” Damian said trying to be casual. He had actually taken far too long deciding on the perfect food for him and Jon to eat their first night as roommates.

“Are you cooking for me?” Jon said with a pleased smile. The moving company was leaving and it was just the two of them.

“Yes, I thought it would be a good start,” Damian said formally. “No need to be so happy. It’s just dinner.”

“Of course,” Jon said trying to straighten his face. But how could he when Damian was living with him and cooking for him? Impossible task.

Damian busied himself in the small kitchen, looking in every drawer and cabinet. He noted that in the dying evening light, it perfectly captured the sunset. That was something that people paid huge amounts to even glimpse from their place in Gotham and Jon got a 360 view everyday.

“Well I have to feed the animals but I’ll be back soon. Do you need anything before I go?” Jon said in the doorway to the kitchen. He had thrown on a pair of rubber boots.

“Tt, you dare care for animals without me?” Damian said with a frown.

“Well I just thought- I mean you can- but you’re cooking,” Jon sputtered and Damian smiled.

“I’m playing with you. I’ll see them tomorrow. Otherwise the meal will be ruined,” Damian said. Jon laughed and shook his head as he left.

Damian looked at the photos that lined the hallway, smiling as he saw pictures of Jon as a child. Jon holding a fish he caught. Jon swinging a baseball bat. Jon holding up one end of a tractor. Right above it was a young Clark Kent doing the same. Damian shook his head with a little smile. He would never admit it but he was head over heels for Jon. Had been for a few years now.

“That’s the first time I lifted a tractor,” Jon said beside him. “Dad was so proud.”

“I imagine,” Damian answered. Clark was such a sore subject for Jon. His father had only been presumed dead the year before. Jon took it hard. He didn’t speak but watched Jon from the corner of his eyes.

“He never wanted to force me to be Superboy. I practically begged him. He was scared it was too dangerous,” Jon said with a sad smile. They both walked in the kitchen and Damian finished the food. Damian brought it to the table just as Jon shyly brought out a bottle of wine.

“Mr Kent, where did you get that?” Damian said with a little smile.

“Actually there’s an entire wine cellar full of the good stuff. Your father is quite fond of giving wine as a gift and Dad never liked to drink. So he stored it here,” Jon said pulling out a wine opener. “I thought we could drink it for him.”

“That’s very illegal,” Damian said expertly opening the bottle. “We’re both technically underage.”

“Anything is legal with enough money,” Jon said with a little grin and Damian laughed.

I’m an awful influence,” Damian replied. They spend the rest of the night eating and drinking wine before both crashing in their separate rooms in the early morning.

Jon crawled out of bed only a few hours later to feed the animals and get started on his day. He thanked his Kryptonian DNA for the lack of hang over he worried Damian would have. He crept quietly past his roommate’s door on his way out.

Jon returned a few hours later, still rather early, and was surprised by the smell of coffee. Damian was cooking breakfast for him. For them, Jon reminded himself. Damian was just his roommate. Damian nodded and poured Jon a cup of coffee.

“I thought you would still be asleep,” Jon admitted.

“I don’t require much sleep. Plus I want a tour of the property,” he said. Practical Damian as always, Jon thought.

“Sure, I’ll take you around. The farm and then town,” Jon added taking a huge plate of scrambled tofu and fried tomatoes. Damian had anticipated that.

“That’s a good plan. I don’t want to stand out in town. Should I wear a plaid shirt,” Damian asked.

“Uh, yeah. If you want. T shirts and jeans are fine too,” Jon said.

“May i borough these clothing from you? Mine are not appropriate for a farm,” Damian said casually and Jon willed himself to not have any emotion that Damian was going to wear his clothing.

Damian was extremely handsome in Jon’s plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. His bright green eyes and tan skin popped in the shirt and he had brushed his black hair neatly back as it had gotten long enough to fall in his eyes. Jon couldn’t help but stare at his Damian in his clothing. Logic be damned.

“What?” Damian asked looking at himself. “Does it look bad? I don’t want to appear foolish,” he said about to pull off the plaid shirt.

“No! No you look good. Nice,” Jon said and Damian’s lip twitched towards a smile.

“Thank you. Would you like to show me town first? Before we get muddy,” Damian said.

“Sure, that sounds good. I need to pick up feed anyways,” Jon said. They loaded into Jon’s old pickup. Krypto hopped into Damian’s lap as if he always had done it and they set off to town a few miles away.

“Here’s the library and the best Waffle House in Kansas. Second only to Ma Kent’s,” Jon said as they drove around. He showed Damian all the important sights in town. Damian had a hard time believing that everything was so compact and so small. Even the diner that Jon said they would eat lunch because they had the best pie short of Ma Kent.

They both, and Krypto, got out at the feed store and they treated Jon like old friends. He grabbed a basket and pushed it to the back as he chatted about all the interesting animals people owned to Damian. The Ferguson’s owned a pair of alpacas and old Skipper Smith had a parrot and monkey as pets.

Jon didn’t pay any attention as he easily lifted 4 50 lb bags of feed and casually put 200 lbs of feed in the basket. Damian looked around to see no one near. Jon did it again.

“Should get us through the week,” he said with a grin.

“You do know that most people don’t pick up 4 at once?” Damian told him quietly as they moved to the register. Jon stopped before nodded and laughing.

“You know I’ve never thought about it. Let’s get going before the diner gets a lunch rush,” he said. Jon tried to act more normal putting up the feed bags but tossing them one handed like bags of bread into the bed of a pick up truck was far from normal. Damian couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

The diner had about 12 booths and a row across the counter like old times. It probably was an older restaurant with the light blue tile and actual jukebox. Damian didn’t know what rush hour could possibly look like with all 7 people he’d seen since entering town but Jon seemed pleased to be earlier than them.

An older lady laid down a menu between them both and offered them coffee with a big grin. Jon ordered a chicken fried steak and Damian ended up getting the waffles. It was the only thing probably vegetarian on the menu.

“Oh shoot, I forgot you don’t eat meat. Sorry. Should I change my order,” Jon said raising his hand.

“No,” Damian said grasping Jon’s hand and pulling it down to the table. Jon’s heart just about beat out of his chest. “It’s fine. You don’t have to change what you eat for me.”

“Okay,” Jon said and the waitress came back to the table with drinks and eyed Damian’s hand on Jon’s.

“This your new partner, Kent,” she asked and Jon noted the judge tone to her voice as she sat down their glasses. Homophobia was still alive in the country. Damian didn’t notice.

“Yes, I just moved in last night,” Damian answered and Jon was frozen in time. Damian doesn’t understand what he means, Jon thought. He can’t.

“Oh, is that right? Took off to the city and brought back a city slicker. Well, each to their own,” she said with a passive aggressive smile. Jon sighed as she walked away. He didn’t know how to explain that to Damian. Was Damian even gay? Too late now. The whole town thought he was.

After eating their meal, Jon asked the waitress for pie to go. The diner had filled up and far too many people were glancing at the pair. Damian assumed it was because he was new in town or possibly they recognized him as a Wayne. Jon knew it was that he had brought home a man. Damian also didn’t quite pass as white with his tan skin and Arabic features so probably a dash of racism too.

Jon drive down to the park at the edge of town and parked by the pond. He put on a nice face but worried that Damian wouldn’t have as easy time in Smallville as Jon hoped.

“Something on your mind, Kent,” Damian said, sitting on the back hatch of the truck watching, the ducks swim.

“Nothing. Maybe I’m a little tired. Should have gone to bed earlier last night,” he said with a laugh. Damian looked at him out the corner of his eye but said nothing and continued eating his pie.

“This pie is made with quality,” Damian said and Jon smiled.

“Better than Alfred’s?”

“Different. Alfred makes amazing meat pies but he never quite understood American pies,” Damian answered. Jon nodded.

“I have to work the rest of the week,” he warned Damian.

“I have plenty of paperwork to keep me busy,” Damian answered. Jon knew he never had to worry about Damian that way. He always kept busy. This was probably his longest break.

The next 3 weeks consisted of getting up early to care for the animals before Jon left to work at the local paper. Damian would jog 3 miles down the dirt road that the Kent farm sat at the end of. By the end of the first week, a few of the neighbors would even wave at him. Jon counted himself as having the will of a Green Lantern to leave before Damian returned every morning. Damian was a sight to behold in his post workout glow pre-shower. He would come home and most of the time Damian was cooking dinner for him. Jon was really falling for the domestics of it all.

“Don’t get used to it, Kent,” Damian warned after Jon complimented an amazing dish Damian made. “Once school starts I can not act as a housewife to you.”

“You aren’t- Dami, you’re far from a housewife,” Jon sputtered. “I know that Flamebird has been seen in metropolis a few times this week alone.”

“Well, I needed to keep busy,” Damian said with a shrug. “Eat your eggplant.”

“I’ve probably eaten more vegetables this week than I have since I would summer with Ma,” Jon said. “But this is pretty good.”

“You’re welcome,” Damian said with a pleased smile. After dinner they sat on the swing on the porch and swung as they watched the sunset like an old married couple. Damian looked at Jon more often than he needed to as they talked about nothing. Jon was so pretty in the golden light. His bright blue eye and freckles looked adorable to Damian.

“And then in August we harvest-“ Jon had been saying before Damian cupped his face and pushed his lips against Jon’s. It was rough and their teeth clanged together and Jon pulled back with an “ow.”

“Shit,” Damian said, moving to get up. “I shouldn’t have- forget I-“

“Wait,” Jon said and Damian froze. He looked so uncertain and Jon had never seen that before. “Can we- can we try again?”

“You don’t have to pity me,” Damian said curtly, getting up. “Forget I did that. I apologize,” he said going inside.

Jon sat for a minute in shock. He had been in love with Damian forever and Damian finally kissed him and he couldn’t even enjoy it. Jon went inside and stood in front of Damian’s door. His hand tentatively considered knocking but Jon couldn’t do it. Just as he turned to walk away, Damian opened his door.

“I have to go to Gotham,” he said suddenly.

“What? If it’s me, you don’t have to leave,” Jon said quickly.

“No. My brothers need me,” Damian said and Jon noticed he had his suit on under his clothing.

“Do I need to come?”

“No. It’s okay. I’ll be back later this week hopefully,” Damian said dashing outside. The screen door swung and slapped the doorframe loudly. Jon ran on the porch.

“Week?” He called as Damian’s car pulled out the drive.

Jon fretted and obsessively watched the news everyday. Krypto was getting anxious without his 3 mile jog every morning. Late on the fourth day after Damian left, Jon heard the front door open. He raced to the door. Damian looked weary and had a slight limp.

“Hi,” Jon said looking Damian over and Damian offered a tired smile. Nothing broken. “Do you need help?”

“No. I need to sleep and I will be fine,” Damian said stubbornly. Jon rolled his eyes and helped him to his bed.

“Do you need anything?”

“No thank you. I will probably sleep late tomorrow,” Damian warned.

“Sure. Of course,” Jon said slowly closing the door as Damian fell asleep. Jon barely slept that night and got up early and called out of work for the day. Damian got up uncharacteristically late around 10 am.

“How are you?” Jon asked, offering him coffee. Damian took the drink before sitting next to Jon. He had a black eye and that limp was still around. The sun shone in bright in the kitchen and Damian was once again reminded the vast difference between smallville and Gotham.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” he said quietly. Jon didn’t want to pounce Damian the first second he got home but it was very hard to not want to talk about the kiss.

“You got mail,” Jon said, handing Damian a big Manila envelope that had come in the day before. Damian wordlessly opened it as he sipped coffee.

“Oh it’s yours,” he handed it over to Jon. Jon opened it with a confused look.

It was a deed. The Kent farm deed. The Kent farm deed in Jon’s name. He looked up at Damian who had a tired half smile.

“It’s in my name. You put it in my name,” he said. “W-why?”

“It’s the Kent farm. There’s too many things with the Wayne name on it,” he shrugged. “Plus I’m far from a farmer. It should be yours.”

“God Damian,” Jon said with tears in his eyes. He pulled Damian into a hug who squawked a protest that Jon ignored. “Thank you. I can’t- thank you,” he said wetly. Damian ignored how Jon was quietly crying on him. His grandma and dad passing had affected him hard and Damian knew he was crying over more than a house and land.

“You’re welcome,” Damian finally whispered and Jon cried even harder. Damian softly pat his back awkwardly. Jon leaned back but didn’t let Damian go. He gazed at Damian with the softest look.

“God Damian,” Jon repeated. “Do you even know how much I love you?”

Damian froze and just blinked at Jon who had pulled back but not out of the hug. “What?” He simply said and Jon’s face started to contort in pain. “Hold on,” Damian said and Jon warily looked at him. Damian knew he had to lean in or Jon would take it back and Damian would be too scared to do anything until Jon did this again. And he wasn’t sure how long Jon would wait.

Damian gently cupped Jon’s face in his hands and Jon breathed in quickly. Damian was clearly nervous. Damian noted how his face was soft and his skin warm. This time he gently bent over and softly pressed his lips against Jon’s. Jon quickly reacted by leaning in toward Damian. Jon could feel the rough pads of Damian’s fingers and taste the coffee Damian had been drinking. After a short while, Damian pulled back but not away.

“I truly care for you too,” he said softly and Jon grinned. “I’ve cared for you for a long time.”

“Same,” Jon said before leaning in to kiss Damian again. Damian kissed for another few seconds before pulling back again. This time Jon tried to follow his lips before stopping. Jon’s breath was erratic and fast. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“No. It’s okay. I’ve just never- I’ve never“ Damian started a bit lost for words. Jon understood what he meant.

“You’ve never been with a man,” Jon said gently.

“I’ve never taken the time for relationships with anyone. I’ve always been too busy,” Damian admitted. He played with the edge of a napkin nervously. He would never openly admit to being worried that his lack of experience was a flaw.

“We can go slow. Whatever you want,” Jon said and he finally looked at Damian the way he had never let himself before: like he was in love with him. Damian nodded.

“I’ve just never found anyone that interesting. I mean, beside you. After a while. I wanted to throw you off a bridge at first,” Damian said and Jon smiled.

“I know. You told me,” Jon said. “We should go out to eat. There’s a place downtown that has vegan options.”

“I didn’t even know there was a downtown here,” Damian admitted and Jon laughed.

“It’s a small town. Not a hut in the woods.”

The place wasn’t ‘rush hour’ packed but had plenty of tables with patrons. Damian and Jon sat at a booth and Damian almost couldn’t handle the lovey way Jon was looking at him. Jon was staring at Damian like he was the moon, even though Damian stood out like a sore thumb in the rural town in his turtleneck and dress slacks. But that was his comfort clothing and he had given up on fitting in long ago.

“I’m going to the restroom. Order for me?” Damian asked and Jon nodded. As Damian walked towards the back of the restaurant, a man in a brown jacket and rubber boots purposefully shoved Damian with his shoulder as he walked by. Damian turned to glare at him.

“Sorry, didn’t see any fruitcakes around here,” the guy said and Damian bristled. Before he could make a scene, Jon moved over to them.

“Hi Tyler. Do we have a problem here?” Jon said uncharacteristically cold. That guy didn’t realize that he picked the worst pair to insult. Tyler looked between Damian and Jon before deciding the fight wasn’t worth it.

“Nothing worth it,” Tyler said turning around. “Bad enough to bring a fruitcake to town, it had to a brown one too,” he muttered and Damian stiffened. He knew that he got looks when he went into town. He was probably the only person that spoke more than English or Spanish in town and certainly the only one to speak Arabic.

But before Damian could do anything else but feel disgust, Jon had punched the guy in the face. Well it was more of a flick with his fist but the guy went down like a rock. Damian hid his smile as him and Jon were hurried out of the restaurant with their food to go by a worried waitress who apologized to the pair.

As they walked back to the pickup truck, Damian reached out and grabbed Jon’s hand who lit up almost instantly. Damian ignored the butterflies in his stomach as he walked. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Jon either.

“You know, it’s not everyday that a guy gets Superman to defend his honor,” Damian said quietly but playfully and Jon laughed.

“Can’t handle bigots. I’ll let you punch the next one,” Jon said with a shrug.

“I would have punched that one,” Damian answered. He turned and pulled Jon to face him before taking his free hand that wasn’t carrying a bag. Damian gently cupped Jon’s face to place a kiss on Jon’s lips before going back to walking. Jon had a stupid smile all the way back home.

#Damian Wayne x Jon kent #Damian Wayne #damijon #mlm dc fanfic #Jon kent #robin x Superboy #Damian is flamebird and Jon is Superman #Jon kent x Damian Wayne #fns pride edition

[felassan]

Check out this video interview with Mark Darrah, ‘On Anthem’s Launch, Dev Advice, And Leaving BioWare’. It’s interesting and pretty substantial. He talks about a bunch of different things, including his YouTube channel, things BioWare could’ve done differently, crunch, whether he’ll write a book about his gamedev experiences, gamedev pitfalls, Anthem’s troubled development, the development of projects he worked on including DA2, cancelled projects (and what happened to them) including Jade Empire 2 / ‘Jade Modern’ / Revolver and Mass Effect: Corsair, the reasons why he left BioWare and Dragon Age 4.

I recc giving the whole thing a watch, but if you’re not able to, here are the Dragon Age 4-related quotes and other especially interesting-to-me portions transcribed for ur convenience! (under a cut due to length):

Mark: "There is a tendency for projects that are small to think they're amazing, because it's so much easier. Like when I ran Sonic [Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood] - it was a 20 person team - it's just so much easier to make things go smoothly than when you have a 200 person team. So I think that we've made progress, but as Dragon Age pivots into production and that team gets bigger and bigger, it will be interesting to see if that's true or if it's just the blindness of being a small team. Like when Inquisition was in the throes of shipping, both Mass Effect: Andromeda and Anthem would love to talk about how they were 'doing things right!' and then they fell in totally different holes, but still fell in a bunch of holes after Inquisition shipped. So I do think that there is a hubris that comes from a project in early development where you feel like this time you've figured it out."

---    Mark: “As Dragon Age [4] was moving towards production, I could see that like, the team, I've been told by people that they've never met a team that more wants to be in production than Dragon Age team. But what ended up happening was, in order for the team to really explore the space properly, we had to sort've train them to be in pre-production. But that meant that that team no longer really wanted to be in production, they wanted to be in pre-production. And so, looking at what was going to be required to pivot that team into production, it wasn't a challenge that I thought I was up to any longer. I think that team, once they get into the mindset, is capable of moving entire mountains, and will move entire mountains, but they need someone that can lead them through that."

Interviewer: “Yeah, from the outside it's striking that you and Casey Hudson left at the same time. It sort’ve definitely implies a ‘fuck this’ moment for the two of you. If it was just you saying ‘I can’t do it’ then it’s understandable.”

Mark: “Yeah, no, I mean, it’s hilarious, because, we definitely were not coordinated. That was, as near as I can determine, there was nothing that triggered us on the same moment other than maybe just a sort’ve mounting, just, like, this friction, being at the, I would say, the GM and EP, the point at which the [something?] friction and the project friction meet, and you’re just sort of grinding there. But I don’t think there was a massive injection of anything late last year that triggered that. Not that I can point to. For me, yeah, I do think it was, weirdly, a coincidence. Casey and I have stayed in touch, we didn’t leave to go form a studio together or anything.”

---

Interviewer: “Are you being torn apart a little bit internally about that pressure of, ‘I know if I just made a video that said, The Secrets of Dragon Age - not even Dragon Age 4, whatever the hell that thing’s called at this point - but just, The Secrets of Dragon Age: Origins’, like, you know that  audience surely would show up. I imagine there’s that community that’s screaming at you, like, ‘Tell us something we don’t know about Dragon Age, tell us about the future!!’, versus, trying to play it a little more straight and actually offer gamedev advice.”

Mark: “Yeah, for sure, absolutely, like, looking at, there is an entire segment of YouTube which is ‘Dragon Age fans talking about Dragon theories and watching the trailers and picking them apart’ and I could do that, and that would be, I feel like that would almost destructive to everybody, because I could deflate all the theories, some of which are completely completely wrong, some of which are amazingly right. But I think, like, I don’t think the community actually wants that. They might sort’ve think they do, but I think if I just sort’ve pulled away the curtain, I think it’d be like, ‘Ohh.. but now what are we gonna talk about? :(’ Like I don’t think that anybody wants that honestly. It would be great for my metrics but I don’t think anyone really wants that.”

Interviewer: “And not to offer you advice, but like I think there’s somewhere in the middle. Like when they have the next teaser trailer for the next Dragon Age project, you could do a reaction video to that and it would be your most viewed thing by a mile, and you wouldn’t be stepping on anybody’s toes.”

Mark: “Yeah, I have thought about that exact thing. Cause we’ve now moved, I think, beyond the horizon of anything that comes out of Dragon Age at this point, like if they’re at EA Play, and I don’t know if they’re at EA Play or not, then whatever that is will be something that I didn’t have anything to do with, so we’re reaching the point where I can now, I feel like, start to provide, yeah, reaction videos from the perspective of, an incredibly well-informed outsider.”

---

Interviewer: “And you must know, even though you’re not inside the studio, like, just have an appreciation how much that [MELE’s good success and good reception] can do for the studio’s morale. I’d imagine it’s just night and day.”

Mark: “Oh, absolutely, like. Andromeda and Anthem being the last two things before the remaster, that is a cloud that hangs above the studio for sure.”

Interviewer: “Yeah, I mean I remember visiting for Dragon Age: Inquisition, it must have been, and it was still, like, the Mass Effect 3 ending, I feel like, even visiting the studio for two days, you could feel that like, funk, of just like ‘ugh, good Christ, we’ve gotten the crap kicked out of us’.”

Mark: “Yeah, I mean. The Mass endings is an interesting one for me. Because, it’s not the choices I would have made to end the game, but those are the choices that were made. I wonder... I don’t like ultimatums, and I feel like with Mass 3, the team kind’ve gave into an ultimatum. The community was so angry that we then released new better endings to ‘fix it’, and it’s not that that’s a bad piece of content, that’s a good piece of content, but I just worry that, the internet today, seems almost like... a reaction to the Mass 3 endings. Almost like, the internet learned that if you just yell loud enough you get what you want. And I don’t think that’s real, because it’s Mass Effect, it’s not Star Wars.”

Interviewer: “But I mean, if it wasn’t the ending of Mass Effect 3, it would have been something else in that era of Voices On The Internet Being So loud that it causes a big company to pivot and be like ‘Okay, we’ll try and make you a little bit happier, please just relax everybody’.”

Mark: “Yeah, totally. So I mean, I don’t think Mass Effect bears the brunt of the blame of toxic fan culture. But certainly it’s one of the very first examples of that culture managing to make something happen.”

---

Mark: “Now I do feel that maybe I overlearned that lesson, because, something that I did a lot on Anthem was talk about how, you know, ‘this is not a BioWare-style game, this is not gonna have the storytelling that you’re used to’. And I think maybe I overstressed that. I do think that at the end of the day where we are with Anthem today, if you were a BioWare fan that liked all our other games, and you play Anthem with an eye to playing it as a storytelling game, it’s certainly not our best, but it’s not bad.”

Interviewer: “So Anthem marketing and messaging was hurt because you were overlearning the lessons from Sonic, that’s the takeaway?”

Mark: “I do think so. I do think that like, I don’t think it was from the marketing perspective, but I do think that both Casey and I overstressed [that]. We didn’t want people to get mad at us for making a game that wasn’t a very good storytelling game, so we wanted to get ahead of that message and say like, ‘it’s not a very strong storytelling game, it’s a game about all this other stuff’, but, at the end of the day, it is a storytelling game, it’s still in there. And those are the people that stayed away. And if those people hadn't stayed away, I’m not saying the game would have suddenly done [awesome], but it would’ve softened the narrative a little bit, I think.”

Interviewer: “Yeah, yeah. I mean, I’m sure you understand this better than anybody, but that’s such a loaded term to say ‘This is a BioWare-style game’, and obviously there’s that era of EA where they were trying to say that every project within EA was a ‘BioWare-style’ game and so, it’s interesting to hear you kind’ve, hemming and hawwing about how much to lean into, ‘no no, this one is 100% BioWare, this one is 73% BioWare’ - it’s such a murky thing.”

Mark: “It absolutely is, I mean, and I even said these things. Like we made MDK2, well, we made it, so I mean is that a ‘BioWare-style’ game? Is Baldur’s Gate a ‘BioWare-style’ game? But if it is, then how is Mass Effect a ‘BioWare-style’ game, and certainly I don’t think anyone would argue that Mass Effect is not a ‘BioWare-style’ game. So that term has to evolve as the studio continues. But I think for whatever reason, for a variety of reasons, I guess, with Anthem we were worried that maybe we’d pushed it a bit too far. And then I guess we did.”

Interviewer: “Did you enjoy any part of working on Anthem, or was it just a matter of putting out so many fires that it was just nothing but stress til the end?”

Mark: “It was stressful for me. I mean. I have a weird - the last ten years of my career at BioWare seemed to involve a lot of helping people land their planes. And that’s what Anthem was for me, I wasn't there from the beginning. I was helping to land it. I think there’s a satisfaction that comes with landing a game, with finishing a product, and I felt that with Anthem as well, and there were a lot of talented people on that project that I’d never worked with before, and that was great. It was great to, y’know, figure out these people that had only ever worked on a Mass Effect, that I’d never worked with before, their skills and abilities. I really like understanding the strengths and weaknesses of a person and building around that. I didn’t really have an opportunity on Anthem to do that because y’know, we were just trying to get the plane on the ground, but I think, having learned about what those people could do, that’s very gratifying because it lets you imagine what you could do with them in the future.” 

Interviewer: “Yeah, if things aligned magically, but for you you realized it never was gonna align, and it was always just right on the horizon of being able to cobble this amazing talent together and focus it down.”

Mark: “Yeah, I mean - I think that I, the mistake that I made on Anthem, I think the biggest mistake, was I’m used to getting a team that pushes back on me in a certain way. So as I’m sort’ve pushing the stick down to get the plane to hit the runway, I’m used to pushing it sort’ve too far, because I know that the team is gonna push it back and then we’re gonna end up where it should be. And I think that given the state of the team on Anthem when I came on, and given the differences in personalities of the leaders there, versus the ones that I’d been working with for ten years, that’s not what happened. I think if anything, I pushed it down, and then they grabbed it and pulled it even further, because they were desperate for help in decision-making, and I was providing decisions. And they were grabbing onto that, and so I thought we were on this glide slope [motions], I was aiming at this glide slope expecting that we were gonna be like [this], but instead we were like [this], and so we, yeah, we landed that pretty rough. But, I mean, it was my call, I’m the one that said we shouldn’t push to move this, not because I thought it was perfect, but because the only path I could see to making it way better was moving it a lot. And when you’re in the last eight, nine weeks of a project, I could only see like, if we were gonna move it, we [would] have to move it like a year. And that’s - in a public corporation that’s a hard argument to make.”

---

Mark: “One of the most expensive things a project can do is slip. Because, your team, when you do that your team is at its maximum size, so if you got 200 people working on a project and you move a month, well that’s 200 staff months, you just got a bunch more expensive just by moving a month. Whereas actually adding more people, well if you only got a month left, to add 200 staff months to a project, you gotta add 200 people, that’s a lotta people. Moving the date is one of the most expensive, and you can reach a point where it’s like, look, it’s not worth it, if we move the date it’s gonna cost more to continue this project than it’s gonna make, so we’re not gonna. But rarely is that the case, you’ve already spent the money you’ve spent, so the only cost that matters is the cost going forward.”

Interviewer: “So, do you regret not pushing for Anthem to be delayed a year or was it good just to get something on the ground so that we could start building to take it off again with a living game?”

Mark: “Yeah, honestly, I don’t regret it, the [team/game?] was tired and it didn’t have another year in it, and I think a lot of the things that are super obvious now, some of them we knew, some of them we knew, like the balance, we had done one, clean balance pass, by having QA come in and hotseat their way through the game over Christmas break. Like literally playing the game 24 hours a day. We’d done basically that once. So we knew that, we knew that. But a lot of the other things kind’ve only came out once it was out in peoples’ hands. I think the path that I wasn’t capable of seeing at the time that could’ve maybe resulted in a better game would’ve been to put it into beta, like a real beta, in the state that it was in, and run it like that and then release it a year later. But I don’t know if there was the will to do that frankly. There might be now... I think Anthem taught EA a lot of lessons.”

Mark: “[on Cyberpunk] I think many of the same things happened there [as with Anthem]. They had a team that was tired and it wasn’t ready but they couldn’t see the path to getting it more ready. If the team is too tired, just taking another two months just isn’t gonna get you what you think it’s gonna get you.” [source]

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #mass effect: andromeda #anthem #mass effect

[fakecrfan]

Since you very nicely offered to write me a fic:

Your prompt is: A story about a background character or characters dealing with life after the TMA apocalypse.

It can be set in the OG TMA universe in the post-post-apocalypse, or it can also be set in a different universe that was affected by the events of MAG 200.

Both OCs and characters established in-show are allowed.

This one aligned so well with my interests that I am actually tempted to open my inbox, briefly, in case anyone else has questions like “what is X bavjground character doing after the apocalypse?” so I can make a series out of it and expand on my post-post-apocalypse headcanons.

For now, you can read your fic here, on over here on AO3

---

Sarah doesn't know where she is.

England, she has to still be in England, she thinks. But it's not an England she recognizes. Not the cobblestone streets of London, and not the moors she used to visit on her vacations. The ground is barren, as though all blades of grass but a few have shriveled up and died. There are no trees, houses, or landmarks for miles--just scorched remnants of where they might have been before.

For a moment, the emptiness of it all is a relief after the hotel. But everything is the same on all sides, and she doesn't know where she is or where to go. She's starting to get hungry, too. She never got hungry in the hotel, nightmarish as it was.

She has to sit down for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and think.

Get food. Find shelter. Survive.

Find Alex.

(God, why had she left her child in a hotel room? Little twelve year old Alex who was still afraid to sleep without a night light. He'd begged her to stay, she should have--)

With that in mind she gets up. Doesn't know what direction to walk in, so she doesn't concern herself with trying to pick one. There's nothing to do but walk, keep her eyes open, and hope.

So she hopes.

---

None of our old maps match the landscape, anymore.

The world these days it's... not like in the before times, as I suppose we're calling it. Despite our hopes, ending the apocalypse wasn’t like everyone waking up from a nightmare. The land is...

It's scrambled, I guess. There are patches of the world that--well. They're not the same, but still have infrastructure intact. Electricity, running water, air conditioning. No scorched earth or rubble in these areas. Just a bunch of traumatized people living in an intact town, or city.

When I talk to them, they tell me it's not the city they remember, though. Everything has been switched around, houses and stores not where they remember them. Their neighbors aren't the neighbors their remember.

Those are the lucky ones. And then there's, well... the outside.

Some places have rubble everywhere, jagged steel ripped apart and waiting for someone to cut themselves on it. Some are frozen over, still waiting for the ice they were frozen over with in the apocalypse to melt. Some are scorched to dust. No phones out there, or anything that lets you connect back with home base.

I'm going out there. We need to map it out. We need to figure out our new world, understand it--and we need to get as many people out of the wastes as possible.

Melanie, Georgie--I’ll see you soon.

---

Sarah does find water. That's something. She's hungry still, so hungry, but she knows that the water is more important.

She wonders if she should stay there. She doesn't know if there will be more watering holes in the future, after all, and she has no way to carry it with her. She decides to keep moving on, and hope for the best.

She starts to see blades of grass poking up, along with some sort of metal crap strewn about the landscape. She looks at them a moment--it seems to be bits of an old carousel? Eventually, a giant sit in their shade, for a while. There she takes a moment to look at the horizon, and goes cold.

She recognizes the tower on the horizon.

A  scaffolded tower with two legs beneath it. A sight she'd last seen on a postcard from her brother. The Eiffel Tower.

Is she in Paris? No, that can't be it. It's just the tower out here in the wastes. There are none of the buildings that would normally surround it. It's almost as though its been ripped out of the city and transported here.

Does Paris even exist anymore? Does London?

If she even finds Alex, will there be a home for them to go back to?

---

I have a theory, Melanie. I think lots of people got transported to different places in the world based on what fear they belonged to. Like, a bunch of lonely people were put in the same place, a bunch of claustrophobic people were put in the same place, and so on. All away from the people they knew.

I’m in one of the suburban safe areas now. No one here knows each other. I talked to them all, and all of them remember living in the same house before, but none of them recognized the houses near them or the people in them. When I went from house to house, everyone had a different native language. I talked to a German guy and a French guy who spoke English, but a lot of them… couldn’t talk to me at all.

There was a woman who--she saw me and she lit up. She grabbed me and started talking a mile a minute in Arabic, I think. But I couldn’t understand her, and she--when I tried to talk back to her in English, her face just. Fell. And then she started to cry.

My dad refused to speak it at home, you know. He-- Actually, never mind. It’s not important. 

She ended up shoving me away.

---

Sarah makes it to the ruins of a forest. 

There’s nothing but stumps left of it, along with litter everywhere. She finds water again, filthy brackish water, and she drinks it anyway because she’s so thirsty. She starts sifting through all of the garbage strewn about for something edible. She finds stale bread crusts crawling with ant and eats them anyway. 

She finds a can of beans, and almost cries. When she can’t find a can opener, she screams instead.

---

The death count has gotten to me, honestly.

I’ve found dead bodies even in the towns and cities. Some looked like heart attacks. Some suicides. People who woke up but couldn’t bear the agony they’d just gone through. That’s still not… the worst of it.

I passed a whole field of dead bodies today.

Hundreds of people, I think, all of them lying dead in the soil. But there were... trails. They had been walking, before they collapsed. All walking in the same direction, to where you can still see London on the horizon.

They were alive. They were trying to get help. And they just... starved, it looks like. The walk was just too long.

How many people are going to die from it all, Melanie? How many already have, out where we can't see them?

I left as many jugs of clean water and rations along the roads as I could. I put up signs pointing to London, saying how many miles out they were, where I had stashed food. I gave them your number, so they know who to call to get to the shelter.

I hope it means the next group that passes by won't die.

I hope there is a next group.

---

Sarah can see what looks like a city in the distance before she collapses. 

She tries to get up, but can’t. She’s been walking for days now, it feels like, only sporadically drinking and almost never eating.  There just isn’t enough energy left in her to stand.

She tries to think about little Alex again, running around in his Batman cape, hoping some kind of love or maternal instinct will kick in and give her the last burst of adrenaline she needs to get up. It doesn’t work. Maybe she doesn’t love her own son anymore, really. Maybe it’s just been fear and guilt driving her this far, and that source has already been wrung dry. 

She manages to crawl a few feet, before she can’t even do that. With nothing else left to do, she starts to cry out. “Help! Water, please!” 

She doesn’t think anyone will hear, or show up. But against all odds, in her dimming vision she sees a figure come into view. Backpacked, clutching a water bottle. 

“Help,” she croaks out again. 

The figure gets closer, and she starts to be able to make out the details of his face. He’s her age, or older, with worry lines carved into his forehead and wide eyes. His nose looks eerily like her brother’s nose, and the shape of his jaw reminds her of her old boyfriend, the one who left her with--

She blinks. Maybe she’s hallucinating, or maybe she’s somehow run into a long lost cousin. But then, the man’s eye’s widen and his mouth opens.

“Mum?”

No, no it can’t…

“A-alex?”

No, Alex was a little round cheeked boy. This is a thirty year old man, at least, taller than her. It hasn’t been that long. It can’t be, it’s not--

“Mum?” He’s doing a frown that looks so, so familiar. This has to be a dream. “Mum, it’s--no.”

He sniffles. He steps forward, and steps back. He paces, uncertain.

“No, no,” she hears him mutter. “It’s all fake, all fake. It’s a trap. That’s what they want, the monsters and the face stealers. No one is real. Don’t give them what they want--’’

“Please.” she begs. 

But she hears him walk away, sniffling, and shortly thereafter everything goes dark. 

---

I have a confession to make, Melanie. I was going to side with Jon, back then. I could have lived with keeping everyone here suffering to prevent more of it. But when he said he was going to kill the whole world, not just leave it--that’s what made me snap. 

I couldn’t let the whole world die. Genocide of the entire human species? Anything but that. Surely passing along the suffering would be better, as long as it didn’t lead to the extinction of whole worlds. But… 

I keep finding more dead bodies.

I went back to that suburb I talked about, to restock on all my food. It was a lonely domain before, I think. I’d thought everyone there would be fine, you know. They didn’t have any deadly sicknesses, or twisted flesh injuries. They had food and water and shelter. But when I went back… more of them had died. 

Lots of suicides. Some of them snapped, and started to self injure.

The German guy I talked to had started to starve. He had a pantry full of food and he just wouldn’t eat it. I tried to get him to eat, to move in with someone else, but he said talking to people “made him sick.” 

I gave up, and left. I had to. There were too many people, and too much to do, so I left him. He’s probably dead now, or going to die soon. Because he can’t find the will to live, and I don’t know how to help someone with that.

The Lonely is probably one of the least directly harmful entities, right? This domain was just a suburb, probably the most comfortable you could get during the apocalypse. And yet the victims are still all dying. 

How much worse is it in places without food and water? In the corruption domains that still probably have deadly diseases spreading? In war zones, in flesh factories?

I think about that nursing home we found. All of the patients who'd died of heart attacks a few minutes after they'd woken up. The ones left alive screaming for help where no one could hear them, for days after the fact. All of the ones that died in their beds before we found them. 

I think about that field of bodies I found the other day. I think about the ruins of that Circus I found, people refusing to talk to me or each other--refusing to help because they didn’t believe it was over and thought everyone else was a mannequin. 

I think… I think it doesn’t matter that we saved the world. If people can’t find the will to live, ro rebuild, to trust and help each other again… I think we’re going through a mass extinction event anyway. 

---

Sarah’s in a car, she thinks. Not a moving one. She’s propped up against a seat,There’s something plastic pressed to her lips.

“Come on,” says a woman’s deep, level voice. “Come on. I got you. We’re getting to London. All you have to do is drink.”

Sarah opens her eyes. She sees a dark-skinned woman trying to coax her to drink, holding up a water bottle. 

“Just a sip,” the woman says. “Just enough to make it.”

Sarah closes her eyes, and takes a long moment to consider whether she wants to.

#my writing #tma fic #post post apocalypse #cw: suicide mention #cw: familial separation #cw: mass death #Basira Hussain

[rurifangirl]

12 for Shou…?

has your oc ever engaged in cannibalism?

(/lh)

OHHHHHSHSOOGOGOGO OH BOY I HAVE QUITE THE STORY HERE SO SIT ON YOUR SEATS, WE'RE GONNA GO ON A RIDE

(Tw for cannibalism even if I don't rly go in details cus sleepy)

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

So first off, this isn't on his own oc post, mainly because when i finished It, It wasn't a thing. This isn't recent either, ad I've hinted he did something arguably worse than trying to kill Rui and Lyva, even if that's another long story so, we'll focus on this. Keep in mind that Shou Is currently over 200 y/o, so what I'm going to say happened quite a long time ago.

This happened when his mother was still alive, an pretty much the head of the palace. Shou had already dealt with much preassure, since he was younger. Not only he had to hide the fact he was trans, but also had to deal with the preassure of becoming the next reignant. Even so, he's got some mixed feelings.

He doesn't blame her for having raised a snake demon on her own, but on an outsider's view, she did influence a lot on how he percieved himself permenantly, making him feel as if he'll never be more than a demon and things such as that.

At that time, he didn't have much authority nor power actually, the only thing he had control on was hiding his powers. But, that was destined to only crumble sooner or later.

Another thing I've never talked about, was his hunger.

Currently speaking, it's not a problem. Sure, It may have resurfaced like twice or three times, but it's merely an intruisive thought. But back then, hohooho It was so much worse. There where times where that brought him physically sick, even vomiting because of that, and others where a servitor or two seemed to good to be left alive.

There were some that inevitably tried to help him, growing closer to him, even if Shou tried to push them away. If that would've gotten thus far, he would've never forgiven himself. But if everything went right, we wouldn't be here.

Now, I have two versions here.

One of them in which a specifical servitor grows very close to him, being the one helping him with many of his attacks. It,, doesn't end well unfortunatly, as Shou loses control and ends up devouring them alive. Mind you, his current demon form Is a LOT toned down from what It was originally,, so I'm leaving y'all to think about how different It was. "Fortunately" for Shou, he gets to clean up the mess, but to this day endures that guilt and disgust of not being strong enough to have let them live. Which would give another reason for Shou to have now mastered his demon form.

The other one Is similar, but doesn't involve a closed one, rather than just a random servitor. Difference Is, he had actually enjoyed that. And It brings an even more conflict, whether to be punished for that horrible crime, or to continue that pleasure in secret. He does continue several times, but realises that if he gets caught, It'll be the end of him. He'll end up regretting what he had done as time passes, keeping that away from anyone else.

I've never really set up on which Is the official thing, so take the one you'd like the most. I kind of jump on n off on which i like more.

Even then, in both versions he does end up fighting those struggles, at least in majority. It's still very much there, but not as strong. He occasionally gets corpses to eat if his desire gets a little too high, even before he met the whole gang.

Currently noone knows about him having eaten people, at MAXIMUM he hinted something to Qiran, but nothing more. Qiran's dence anyways so they probably didn't pick It up either.

And as im now finishing this i realized his and Qiran's relationship may be quite slower because of this n I'm egdkjjhguiuguuek, especially if i go w the first version

If there's anything else unclear lemme know cus idk if i put everything 😭

Tags;

@a-chaotic-dumbass @spoopy-fish-writes @dopesaladlady @audre-falrose @nadi-117 @infra-jaded

#I put it under a readmore so if it's uncomfy ya can skip it #ruruasks #rurusocs #oc #ocs #my ocs stuff #shou #oc lore #ruruslore #? kind of #my ocs

[champion-time-imagines]

How would Leon, Raihan, and Milo react to vacationing in Alola w their s/o, but as soon as they land and get off the plane, their s/o is almost immediately tackled by what they think is another trainer's Pokemon or maybe even a wild Pokemon, but it really turns out to be a member of their s/o's team that stayed in Alola?

LEON

👑 It took a little work, but you and Leon got enough free time for a week long vacation to Alola!

👑 You were super excited to get back to what you’d left behind for Galar, and Leon was super excited to see the region for himself!

👑 The flight was long, and honestly very, very boring. So the both of you were more than thankful to see the islands getting closer and closer from the view of your window.

👑 Not long after you’d touched down at the airport in Hau’oli City, gotten your luggage, and stepped out into the streets, a beautiful red bird pokemon that Leon had never seen the likes of before was running up to the both of you.

👑 You knelt down and outstretched your arms to catch the Oricorio that quickly jumped towards you and hugged you.

“Soleil! It’s so good to see you again!” 

👑 Leon couldn’t help but grin as you laughed happily at being reunited with your pokemon you’d had to leave behind. He’d never really understand Galar’s restriction on imported pokemon, but he was glad to see that you and your Oricorio were together again!

RAIHAN

🐲 When you suggested a vacation to Alola, Raihan was all over that offer immediately. Sure, anywhere with his lover is paradise, but going to Alola with you? Count him in 200 percent!

🐲 The both of you plan to make this trip as sweet as possible, both in the romantic sense, and with how much fun you plan to have!

🐲 Somehow, even the long plane ride itself isn’t boring when you’re with Raihan. You two play games together on your phones (airplane mode on, of course!) as you tell him about your time in Alola, as well as the other regions you’ve been to!

🐲 Before you knew it, you’d touched down on Melemele Island. The two of you had just grabbed your luggage when you heard thunderous steps running your way. You turned, and there was a massive Feraligatr charging your way.

🐲 Raihan wouldn’t admit it, but he was a little bit nervous, and had his and reaching for the pokeball housing his trusty Duraludon before seeing you run forward and meet the giant reptile for a big hug.

“I’ve missed you so much Chompy! I hope you’ve been okay!”

🐲 You explained to him that Chompy, your Feraligatr, had been your first partner pokemon when you started your adventure in Johto. You were devastated when you had to leave him behind, and Raihan understands the sentiment completely. But now you get to spend an entire two months with your boyfriend and your starter!

MILO

🍀 Milo was a little iffy about a vacation at first. He's a man who prefers to keep his two feet planted on the ground, and ground he knows well at that.

But, oh, how can he say no to those puppy eyes you put on?

🍀 You assure him he'll love seeing Alola and what it has to offer. And he's sure he will! If you're this excited about it, it's definitely bound to be more than worth it.

🍀 The both of you spend most of the plane trip asleep, actually! It's not too surprising, since you and Milo are so comfortable in each other's company.

🍀 You touch down, get off the plane with your luggage, and immediately Milo sees what you mean! It's wonderful here! Fresh, tropical air, wonderful flora,

A charging Sawsbuck...

WAIT NO--

🍀 He was just about to summon his Eldegoss, until he noticed that you were grinning and holding your arms out towards the pokemon running towards the both of you.

"Equinox! C'mere boy!"

🍀 Milo puts two and two together, realizing that this Sawsbuck must've been a partner you had to leave behind due to Galar's import laws. But now that you're reunited, he can't help but smile, your joy is pretty contagious!

And this trip was turning out to be more and more worth it all the time.

#Mod Mimi #champion leon #pokemon leon #pokemon raihan #pokemon milo #leon #raihan #milo #leon x reader #raihan x reader #milo x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword and shield

[cherryblossomflowers]

I Think It’s Time For A Change

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Daughter!Reader, Danneel Ackles x Step-Daughter!Reader

Summary: YN is tired of her super long hair and Danneel decides to take her for a haircut after school. When she gets home, Jensen sees her now short and colorful hair and freaks out. How will he handle this dramatic change in his life?

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Slight Cursing, Yelling/Fighting, Depression, Mention of Death

A/N: Here's a one-shot to celebrate my 200 followers! Thank you so much, My Cherry Blossoms. I appreciate this more than you'll ever know. A huge thanks to @mlovesstories​ for encouraging me to post my writings from the beginning. No hate on any SPN cast/character! The first picture is the “Before Haircut” and the second is the “After Haircut”. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

***ASK OPEN***

*LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE IN MY TAG LIST*

Cherry Blossom One-Shot Masterlist

Jensen: 35 Danneel: 34 YN: 15

One Shot

While hiding in the bathroom during her lunch period, YN removed her hood from her head. She stared at her hair that was wrapped in a bun on top of her head.

She took a breath and took out the clip from her hair, letting her long locks fall down past her shoulders to her tail bone.

YN closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and staring at her reflection in the mirror.

And tears almost instantly filled her eyes.

For as long as she could remember, she had long hair. And the only reason she had never cut it was her father.

Jensen had always and will always see YN as his little girl, his first born, his baby. And no matter how old she gets, Jensen's views of her will not change.

Which sucked as a high schooler when image was everything.

And right now, YN hated the image she saw in the mirror.

She had tried so many different hairstyles, from straightening and scrunching to braids and buns, but nothing really fit. Her hair was just too long to manage.

It surely didn't help with her shyness either. YN had been shy for the past 3 years, not really talking in school, keeping to herself, and not having friends to hang out with.

So she used her hair to hide herself during school days. She'd sit in the back of the class, not answer any questions, and not sit near anyone during lunch.

Most of the time, she'd just go into the bathroom during lunch and wait it out.

She wiped her eyes and tossed her hair back into a bun on top of her head before covering it with her hood. After one last look in the mirror, she turned and walked out of the bathroom just in time for the bell to ring for lunch to be over.

YN went on with the rest of her day and when school was over, she waited outside for Danneel. She stood by a tree in the front while other students were hanging out and talking with their friends.

A horn honking startled YN out of her thoughts. When she looked up, she saw Danneel sitting in her car and waving.

YN grabbed her backpack and walked quickly to Danneel's car. She opened the passenger door and jumped in, slamming the door behind her.

"Hey, YN. How was school?" Danneel asked.

YN shrugged, "Fine."

Danneel thought maybe she could get YN open up, "Anything to report?"

YN shook her head in response.

"Well, why don't you tell me something you learned?"

"Um, we talked about Shakespeare in English."

Danneel stayed silent, thinking YN would continue. But she didn't.

"Anything else?"

YN shook her head.

Danneel let out a long sigh, "Do you want to tell me what's on your mind? Did something happen? Is there something I can do?"

YN turned to Danneel and stared at her for a moment. Tears welled up in her eyes as she reached out and twirled Danneel's hair in her hands.

"I really like your hair. It's a good length for you," YN said fighting back tears.

Danneel was confused for a moment before it suddenly hit her, "You wish your hair was shorter, don't you?"

YN nodded as tears fell down her cheeks, "I've never had it really cut. Dad just took me to get the ends trimmed and thinned out a bit over the years. But..."

"But?"

"He won't let me have it shorter. He always says his 'baby girl' needs to stay young forever. I guess this is his way of doing that," YN explained.

Danneel smiled sadly, "Well, I happen to have an appointment at the salon to color my hair. Why don't you take it? And you can do whatever you want to your hair."

YN whipped her head up to Danneel, "Are you crazy? Dad would flip!"

"YN, you're a 15-year-old girl. At your age, my parents let me do whatever I wanted to my hair. You're old enough to make your own decisions about how you look. You're in high school. If you want to do something to your hair, just say so."

YN thought for a moment. She slowly pulled down her hood and took her bun down. Her hair fell on her shoulders and all around her.

She took a breath, "I've always wanted to have a blue and purple bob, but I couldn't ever make myself do it."

"Well then," Danneel put the car in drive, "We will go do it." -------------------- A few hours later, Jensen was setting the table for dinner for himself and his family. He had gotten a text from Danneel earlier that said YN was going with her to her appointment and they'd be back in time for dinner.

As he set the last plate down on the table, he heard the front door open.

"We're back!" Danneel yelled in the house.

Jensen smiled as he walked down the steps of the dining room and into the living room. He saw Danneel standing by the door and YN by her side.

Well, he saw Danneel's face clearly, but YN stood with her hood over her head and face.

"There are my girls. How was the salon?" Jensen asked.

Danneel smiled, "Great. She got my hair back to the way I like it. And a little something extra."

Jensen chuckled, "Extra? Oh, she styled it."

"Well, yes. But that's not what I mean," Danneel turned to YN, "Come on, show him."

YN took a deep breath and pulled the hood off her face. Danneel smiled down at her, happy to see the smile on her face.

Jensen, on the other hand, was speechless. And not in a good way.

YN ran her hands through her hair, "So, um, I told Danneel an idea I've had for the last couple years. I've always wanted to have multicolored hair and you know how badly I've wanted to cut it short."

Jensen still stood in silence. Danneel and YN waited in anticipation for him to speak.

"Well, Jay? Do you like it?" Danneel asked.

Jensen took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "Danneel can I speak with you...in private?" he whispered.

Danneel turned to YN, "Honey, why don't you go get ready for dinner? I'll come get you once-"

"No, I'll get her once we're done talking, Danneel," Jensen interrupted her.

YN looked up at her father in shock from his outburst. Jensen stared at Danneel in anger while Danneel looked frightened. YN took a step away from the two and slowly walked towards her bedroom.

Once in her room, she shut the door lightly behind her and walked straight over to her mirror. She took off her hoodie and ran her hands through her hair again.

She stared at her reflection as a smile slowly spread across her face. She couldn't remember the last time she smiled at herself.

For the first time in years, she felt pretty. She felt like herself. She felt...normal.

YN jumped and gasped in fear when a heavy knock interrupted her thoughts. She slowly walked over to the door, turned the handle, and pulled it open.

Jensen stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. And he did not look happy at all.

He walked past YN and into her bedroom, but kept his back to her, "So, do you want to explain it to me?"

YN was confused for a moment, "Explain wh-"

"Explain why in the hell you dyed your hair and chopped it all off, YN!" Jensen turned and yelled at her.

Tears formed in YN's eyes, "Y-you don't like it?"

"No. In fact I think it looks horrible. What did you do, stick your hair in a can of paint? Grab a pair of hedge trimmers and go to town on your hair?"

YN started to sob, "B-but I-"

"No, YN. You knew better. You knew not to mess with your hair."

"Danneel said-"

"Danneel is not your mother, YN. She is your step-mother. She has no say in anything with what you do or how you will look."

Anger started to flood her mind as YN took a step towards Jensen, "At least she saw that I needed to change, Dad."

"Excuse me?"

"For years now, all I've wanted to do was cut my hair, even just a trim. But you wouldn't allow it. Danneel saw how upset I was after school today and thought maybe if I just changed a little it would bring me out of my shell. And it did! It's only been like an hour since we left the salon and I can already tell my confidence has doubled!"

Jensen held a finger up at YN, "Now hold on a minute, young lady-"

"I'm not finished. You never let me change without your permission. I'm in high school now, Dad. That's already a huge change for me. I'm so scared of changing, too. And I know you don't want me to change and grow up, but I am. Change is happening, Dad. And this," YN pointed to her hair, "Needed to happen. Don't live in the past, Dad. I'm not that little girl anymore."

Jensen took a step back as tears formed in his eyes. He turned and walked over to YN's bed, sitting down on the edge. He hung his head in his hands and started to cry.

YN blinked a few times in shock as she walked over and sat down next to her father. She laid a hand on his back to comfort him.

"It's not that I didn't want you to change, YN. It's that I didn't want things to change," Jensen began, "After your mom died, it was hard to adjust to life without her. Change was so hard for me that I need to try and keep something constant. I think that's why I never allowed you to grow and change. You keeping your hair long like when you were a little girl was a constant thing that made everything okay. I didn't think I would make you miserable with it," he sighed, "I'm sorry."

YN wiped her own tears, "Dad, change has to happen in life. Or else the human race becomes crazy. Besides, you did change one thing.”

“And that is?”

“You brought Danneel into our lives. She can't replace Mom, but she really tries to make us both happy. And she knew this made me happy. She just wanted to help."

Jensen smiled, "When did you get so mature?"

"About an hour ago when I didn't have to hold my hair up to sit down in a chair," YN chuckled.

Jensen laughed with her, "Well, I do like the length of it," he stared at her hair, "But did you have to color it like this?"

YN rolled her eyes, "Didn't we just have this huge heart-to-heart with 'change' being a thing? These colors help me express myself."

"Just...don't come home with piercings or tattoos please," Jensen sighed.

"No promises on the piercings. You know, I've always wanted my navel pierced."

Jensen shook his head, "Absolutely not."

"How about my second holes in my ears?"

"That we can discuss."

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

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories​​​​ @adorable-minibot​​​​ @chessurkait​​​​​

​​​@idksupernatural​​​​​​​​​ @desiredposion​​​​​​​​​ @thevelvetseries​​​​​​​​​ @let-me-luve-you​​​​​​​​​

@obsessedwithfandomsx​​​​ @mangueweaschester​​​​ @starchildwild​​​​ @deans-baby-momma​​​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​​ @unicornmadness2444​​​​​

​​​​@emery--nicole--morrison​​​​​​​​​ @spnfamily-j2​​​​​​​​​ @akshi8278​​​​​​​​​ @avocadogirl216​​​​​

@imthedoctorlove​​​​​ @wecantgiggleitsafandom

#spn #spn rfpf #supernatural #supernatural rpf #Jensen Ackles #Jensen #Jensen Ackles x Daughter!Reader #Jensen x Daughter!Reader #Danneel Ackles #Danneel #Danneel Harris #Danneel Ackles x StepDaughter!Reader #Danneel x StepDaughter!Reader #spn one shot #supernatural one shot

[peachykindalovesyou]

Cam-girlfriend

Leviathan x F! Camgirl! reader

Warnings:: Online masturbation, smut, dirty talk, dom Levi?, ooc Levi

Word count:: 1.6+k

Authors note:: I got this idea randomly while staring at my ceiling one night, so here it is, in all its glory.

     (Your point of view)

     I was getting ready for my usual night, I got all of my toys ready, my makeup was done, my hair was done, and I had my cosplay lingerie on. I turned on my computer, signing in and clicking on the site that I practically work on. I earned my money from there, but its a really good way to make money. I earned five thousand grimm each month for the amount of views I get!!

     Luckily, I am fairly popular on that site. I posted an update, saying that I would be going live in thirty minutes. I grabbed my bottle of strawberry flavored lube, it had a pink-red color to it, placing it on the bed along with the toys.

     Twenty minutes had already past, and most of my followers were already online. I got up from my bed, peaking down the hall in both directions and listening closely, making sure that everyone else was asleep already. I was almost certain that all of them were asleep, which they probably were.

     I’m just glad they never caught me, or even knew I stayed up until these hours. I closed my door quietly and walked back to my bed, starting up the live stream. My followers started pouring in as soon as I started it, I giggled to myself.

     “Hey babes~” I waved to the camera, leaning in to read the comments that were being written and posted. I sat there answering questions and waiting for some more users to join.

     After they had all joined, I finally started the real show. I placed my computer on my bed in front of me, I spread my legs and started taking their requests. I rubbed myself through my lacy panties, biting my lip and suppressing a moan. I read one of their requests;

‘l3wdh3ntai5; Do a strip tease, please.’ They tipped 200 grimm with the request.

     ‘I have a feeling this might be Levi..’ I thought to myself, turning the computer away from me, and getting up from the bed. I started to sway my hips side to side running my hands up and down my body. I pulled my bra strap down my shoulder, and slipped my finger tips into the hem of my panties.

(Levi’s point of view)

     My eyes were wide, I couldn’t believe the request I had just sent (Y/n)! My hard cock was out, I was rubbing myself up and down slowly, imagining that it was (Y/n)’s hand. She continued on, her bra was off but her forearm was still covering her boobs. “A-ahng..” I whimpered out, god, I just wanna take her right now.

     ‘I-I can’t believe I’m doing this..I can’t believe she was even in my recommended videos!! I’m sure glad she was though..’ I stroked myself faster, stopping each time I was about to cum.

     I felt jealous, that all of these people got to see her do all of these things. I started getting angrier and angrier, the more I watched the comments pop up in the chat. I wanted a few minutes, trying to make up my mind to just barge into her room and fuck her right then and there.

     I then get up from mt gaming chair, exiting the stream, after all, I am going to see the real thing. I walk up to the door, grabbing the handle, and opened my door slowly, not wanting to wake up the others. Especially Mammon, he’s such a scumbag..

     I tiptoed my way across the hall, making my way to (Y/n)’s room, I listened closely, to make sure that she was still streaming. ‘Good, she still is. Now its my turn to give them a REAL show.’ I smirked lightly thinking about all of the things I could do to her.. WAIT NO!! She’s just a normie..remember that Levi!

     I open the door without her noticing, she was back on her bed. I blushed immensely at the sight in front of me. She had a purple vibrator that she was pushing in and out of her, her legs were spread, she was sitting up. One of her hands were kneading her breast and twisting her nipple.

     I could hear her small whimpers and moan clearly now, I stopped in my tracks just admiring her. I then remember what I came in here for, I take a deep breath, and walk forward. “ (Y/n) “ I said sternly, this definently got her attention.

      (Your point of view)

     I Jump, and let out a little yelp, I look beside me, I couldn’t believe what I saw..’Shit! It’s Levi, oh no!’ I tried to make up and excuse as for why I was doing this, but failing miserably. “L-L-Levi!! I-I Um..I w-was just uh..d-doing an online r-review!! Yeah! haha...” I was nervous, that he was going to tell somebody.

     He raised an eyebrow, then speaking. “Oh really, an online review? That involves you getting naked and giving them a show?” He said this in a teasing way, he chuckled, darkly. He moved the computer to the side, and he crawled on top of me. He took the vibrator out of me and turned it off, then he gave it a long, slow lick. My face was beet red, this side of Levi was unnatural! I always thought that I would be the one topping him, honestly.

     “You taste delicious, but I think you would taste even better if I had the real thing..” My eyes widened further, I was nervous, submissive. I looked to my side, and I read the comments for a few seconds;

‘Anonymous: damn!! this is even better then just a regular camgirl show!!’

‘TigAnimeBiddies: I want this to continue on forever.’

‘Prxncess5676: I wish I was (Y/n)..’

     I was surprised that they liked this, I looked back to Levi. “L-Levi, this is so not like you, whats gotten into you!?” He just dived down to my face, kissing me roughly and passionately, he was a pretty good kisser..

     He shoved his tongue in my mouth, not even asking for an entrance, and as expected, he won the fight for dominance. “I’m gonna show you who you really belong to, slut. I’m gonna leave my marks all over you, than that way, everyone else will leave you alone.” He smirked evilly once again.

     He kissed down my jawline, to my neck. he softly kissed it at first, it felt so loving and gentle. But all of a sudden, he bit down, harshly. “AH!~” It felt so good, he kissed me roughly on my neck and shoulders, he left dark purple and red hickeys all over the places that would be the most difficult to hide. ‘Oh how am I gonna explain this to the rest of the brothers..’ I thought to myself.

     His hand slid down my body, caressing my breasts, squeezing, groping, and licking, and sucking, biting my hard buds. It all felt so good, I couldn’t hand the pleasure he was giving me. His other hand started leading its way down to my core, resting just right above it. I bucked my hips upwards, just wanting him to give me more. “Hgnh..Levi p-please..” He looked up at me, with his lust filled eyes.

    “Please, what?” He teased me further, I could tell her was definently enjoying this change of pace. “P-please just..just..JUST FUCK ME LEVI PLEASE!!” I moaned out, my mouth was hung open. He turned into his demon form, I couldn’t wait for him to fill me up.

     He suddenly looked bashful and looked away “A-are you sure you wanna do this w-with..me?” He looked up at me with pleading eyes. “Of course, Levi! I wouldn’t want this from anyone else but you.” I assured him, with a sweet smile.

     “Alright than I have your consent..I’m not holding back.” He whispered the last part in my ear. He roughly pulled off my panties, he undressed himself. I was admiring his well built form, for a shut in otaku, he sure does have a great body. We were soon both undressed, I look down at his member, it was pretty big, a nice girth. “Like what you see?” I slowly nodded my head, looking away with a red face.

     “Ready?” He asked me, I nodded. “Good.” He harshly thrusted in, slow and rough thrusts were being produced from him. The pain soon went away, “F-faster Levi..” he went even faster, before pulling out.

     “Get on your hand and knees, now.” I obeyed him, getting into my position. He thrusted in yet again, ecstasy ran through my body. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“L-Levi..”

“Who? I didn’t quite catch that..” He thrusted faster, rougher. gripping my ass.

“L-Levi!”

“I still can’t here you, slut. Now, WHO DO YOU BELONG YOU?” He thrusted faster than humanly possible, his tail was now penetrating my ass.

“Y-Y-YOU LEVI!! I B-BELONG TO Y-YOU!!!” 

“Good girl, now, take all of my fucking seed.” He thrusted harder, and a few thrusts, I felt a warm and sticky liquid spill into me, running down my thighs. He pulled out his tail and cock.

     He looked over to the computer, before exiting out of the stream and closing my computer, setting it down on my night stand. He looked down at me with wide eyes “(Y-Y/n)!! Are you okay, was I too rough!?” I turned over, laying myself down on the pillows, I panted heavily.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” I closed my eyes, smiling to myself.

“Levi, that was the BEST sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

“R-really!?” I could see his eyes fill up with happiness “Yeah..” I gave him a sweet closed eyed smile. He got up and came behind me, covering us both with the blanket.

“I love you, Levi.”

“I love you too, (Y/n).”

We both went to bed, but little did we both know, there was gonna be a TON of questions coming from the brother..oops.

#obey me smut #obey me #obey me levi x mc #obey me leviathan #obey me! leviathan #shall we date #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #leviathan obey me #levi x y/n #levi x mc #obey me reader insert #tw smut #🍋 : smut

[blubberchaser]

One Hundred Inches

Ben stood in front of the full length mirror, backing up a few steps to fit his whole body in the frame. After two years of steady weight gain, he barely recognised the fat man staring back at him. His eyes worked up and down, taking in his immense size. He breathed in and out pushing his gut out as far as it would go and admiring the curviture of his body.

Looking down he saw nothing beyond his own swollen fat chest and belly stretched far out more than a foot in front. Even his nipples were long gone from view, folded into the roll of blubber on the other side of fat boy tits. He reached down, gathering as much of his heavy overhanging blubber into his arms as he could and lifting it to expose his crotch to the mirror. He remembered when I first told him I wanted him too big to jerk himself off, how excited I was watching his manhood progressively shrink into his fat rolls. He tried to free one arm to reach down and see what was left but his overhanging belly spilled out of his remaining arm burying his crotch under a roll of blubber. He grunted, taking a deep breath and thinking about trying again but laziness and the warning signs of impending hunger were taking over. He turned slightly letting the middle fold of his fat torso, just over his love handles deepen and tracing the stretch marks with his fingers all the way up to his chest.

Ben pushed his tits together,  feeling the softness and his sensitive stretched out nipples. He grabbed a handful of the each of the sides and jiggled the fat, smiling to himself. Fuck I wish these were bigger he thought, envying the chest size and pure flabbiness of record breaking fat men he spent hours browsing online at. Tits were a major focus point of ours, he loved how much attention I gave them, squeezing his chest rolls through his shirt when we were out in public to get his attention, lifting his shirt while I embraced him knowing I would be deep in his chest in a fraction of a second my tongue in the fold between them and the top of his gut, sucking and biting on his nipples so he would squirm, making all his blubber shake and bounce between us and turning me like nothing else.

I stood leaning on the door frame of our bedroom, admiring my fat boy lost in himself, appreciating my work fattening him up and playing with his own blubber. I don’t want to waste my time telling you about me on his big day. Five foot seven, 255lbs somewhere about half of Ben’s weight, meaty, footballer player build with plenty of it in my thighs and ass, shaved head with a few days stubble. I had started out the lighter of the two of us but that lasted not even a month of our regular routine of drive through visits, morning donuts and late night binges, me rubbing his belly and massaging his chest as he ate.

I watched Ben knowing what was going through his mind, how into his own body he had become the last year. The rolls the folds, the softness, how he bounces and wobbled all over every time he moved now. But what really turned him on the most was just how much he had grown, the limitations imposed by his own size, how much space his new body took up and how far his huge belly stretched out far in front of him. That really penetrated deep into Ben’s mind, was what he found most enjoyable and what kept him piling on the lbs . We were both always exchanging glances and laughing to each other when he tried to waddle through spaces, bumping furniture with his fat ass that he would have cleared with inches to spare just a year ago or when he reached out, bending down to retrieve something, forgetting he was a fat boy now, his huge mass of belly fat freezing him midway and making him grunt and call for my help.

I watched him a few mins more as he enjoyed himself exploring his body, I had no doubt he was as heavily aroused by playing with himself as I was watching him. His cock however was completely hidden from view, deep under that enormous belly overhang and buried in pubic fat while mine tented prominently leaving a wet patch on the front of my gym shorts. Only the way he started at himself in the mirror smiling and staring intently gave it away. I waited maybe 10 seconds before I could stand it no longer and slipping through the half open door, I had to get my hands on my fat boy.

It was easy to sneak up on him from behind. His body blocked the whole mirror and he was distracted playing with himself. Slipping my arms around his lower back roll just above his ass I embraced my fat boy in a hug from behind, squeezed gently against the rolls of blubber and pushed the sides of his gut up, something I know he liked because it made him look fatter. Ben turned sideways, bringing my muscled frame into view alongside his own in the mirror.

“What the fuck have you done to me?!?” he grunted out in his heavy midwestern accent.

-“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“This!” He grunted again, picking up the furthest section of his gut in his chubby hands, a mass of blubber that he had put on in the last few months that hung lower the rest and letting it fall. “I’m fucking huge, have you seen me lately”

-“Yeah, I’ve noticed you put on a few lbs this week” I replied squeezing deeper and making all his rolls of fat wobble and bounce off each other.

“Will you stop enjoying yourself for a minute measure me?”

“It’s always about you, isn’t it...” I laughed back

-“Okay don’t then, just stay there all day, letting me go hungry” he answered back, his eyes returning to our reflection in the mirror. Ben rolled his shoulders back and letting out something between a grunt and a growl, he leaned  forward, pushing his mammoth gut out as far as it would go and spreading his ass cheeks. Pretending to stretch he leaned back trapping the wet patch of my gym shorts between his beach ball sized ass cheeks. He lowered his voice and locked my eyes in the mirror.

-‘Please baby...I feel so much fatter”

“Alright, let me get the tape”

I pulled my hands slowly from under his gut and walked across the room, leaving him to admire himself a few moments more. I stepped over a pair of 6XL shorts with a jock strap tanged inside and to my beside table. It was covered in remnants of last nights fun. I screwed the lid back on a tube of lube and tucked it out of view.  I grabbed a series of wrappers, rolled them into a ball and went to stuff them in a three tub stack of Ben and Jerry’s.

-“Don’t waste that!” I heard Ben holler across the room.

“What?”

-“The last of that tub, Don’t waste it!”

I looked inside at a third of tub of congealed ice cream and chocolate, sloppy and sticky, I stirred the gross bit at the top into the molten chocolate and cream with a spare spoon.

“I thought you finished all last night?”

-“Nope bring it here”

Holding the sticky tub of ice cream remains in one hand I pulled open the drawer and dug around for the 120’ tape I kept handy. Grabbing it with one hand, I dumped the trash into the pile in our bedside trash can. “Come on!” I heard a grumpy, impatient Ben say from the other side of the room. I couldn’t tell if he wanted the ice cream or the tape more. He had gotten so fucking greedy recently. Anything I put in front of him disappeared within minutes. I regularly came home to an empty fridge and a pile of garbage on the counter.

I walked across the room and stood in front on him his gut pressed up to my flat stomach. Ben stared at me and then at the ice cream, visibly drooling and licking his lips, silently ordering me to feed it it to him.  I raised the sticky tub to his mouth as he tilted his head back, the fat mass under his chin moving to the roll at the back of his head where his neck used to be. The liquid mess sliding down the wax side of the tub and into his waiting mouth within a fraction of a second it was in his belly resting comfortably on top of a still half full belly from last night. he licked the rim of the tub, catching the last drips of melted ice cream. Tossing the tub aside, I returned to Bens body, examining the mass of blubber I knew every inch of. He was right, his gains had been out of control recently, visibly fatter almost everywhere.

“Okay, lets do this” I said looping the tape around his back. He smiled back at me, my happy growing fat boy, shifting himself so he could me wrap the tape around his girth. “Here hold this” I said, Ben dutifully responding by pinning the metal tab of the tape to his fat gut just next to his belly button with his chubby finger. He wasn’t the flabbiest of fat guys, but it still sank into his belly blubber a half inch. He was far too fat for me to reach round and grab the tape, so I walked round him securing the tape in the one gap between his copious rolls of fat just at his lower back. Stretching it round the other side, making sure it was over his biggest flab roll and didn’t slip between them. It sounds hard but after dozens of times in the last two years I had perfected the motion. I laughed a little and Ben knew why. Doing this always made me think back to when he was in the mid 200’s and it was a quick 10 second Sunday morning job. Reaching his belly button, my fingers fumbling over the deep hole in an ocean of blubber, my cock twinged and I took the other tab, ignoring the dirty thoughts in my mind.

“Relax” I said and he let his hands fall and rest on his side. “101.4”

-“No way, check again”

“ I’m telling you, it’s 101”

-“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure, how many times have I done this, almost every week for two years, you baby... are 100 inches of pure blubber”

-“Here let me see” he tried to look down, shifting gaze down, expanding his belly girth and making the tape pop from my fingers’ I laughed

“You know better than that, don’t you trust me?”

-“Yes of course, I trust you, I knew it was coming, i just wanted to see it for my self, WOW... 100 fucking inches round, that’s fucking amazing, it’s really great, I never thought... Well I knew we were almost there but I still can’t believe it”

Ben looked so excited, like all his dreams had come true, he put his hands on me, pulling me in as close as a man with a 100’ gut can. I let me body sink into the flabby fat mountain that was a severely obese Ben. I reached my hands round as far as they would go leaving a 2 foot gap spread across his love handles and back. As I pulled him close his belly between us pushed his huge fat boy tits up into his face and kissed him. Silly fat boy, I could still taste chocolate ice cream on his tongue. Ben forced his thick greedy tongue into the back of my mouth with the same force that he used when demolished slices of cake and chewed donuts.

-“I love you”he panted through his usual heavy laboured breaths.

We seldom had heavy make out sessions standing, it was just too difficult to get around all the blubber in his belly, tits and neck rolls. He took the hint and waddled over to the bed his ass cheeks colliding into each other as he took each step. Collapsing on the bed his ocean of body fat wobbling, he shifted his massive weight and heaved his butt on to the protesting mattress. We we’re one of those noisy couples the downstairs neighbours, if we had any, would hate. As many extra slats and reinforcements I had added to the bed, even bolting it to the floor, we went through two mattresses in the last year and I couldn’t stop metal springs screaming under Ben’s weight as he shifted to get comfortable.

Using his lard buried muscles he shifted his body back an inch at time, breathing heavy and making every pound of blubber wobble and bounce until he found a comfortable spot. His body spread out coving an area about four feet wide. Ben’s tits rolled to the side almost touching the mattress beneath him and allowing him to rest his hands just above his gut, somewhere where his ribs would be if they weren’t buried deep. He hugged his own body and smiled in ecstasy, mediating on his own huge size, how he never felt sexier and one of his ultimate dreams finally being reality.

I climbed on top starting at his overhang worked my way upwards, tickling his side rolls with my tongue and making him squirm and wiggle, his stretch marked skin visibly struggling like swollen a fat filled ballon, more moisturiser needed on those spots during our nightly pre bed routine, I made a mental note. I settled for a moment on his three inch wide nipples, nuzzling my face into those fat filled manboobs. Some guys nipples remained the same as they grew, Ben’s had always stretched outwards, expanding to their current size as his chest swelled up with one of the most impressive sized pair of fat boy tits I had ever seen on a man. I didn’t know it that natural or from all our heavy nipple play, the hour or so I spent enjoying them as he dug into pints of ice cream every evening. He moaned hard and moaned harder again as I sucked on them, biting gently, he shifting his hips so his under belly rolls and swollen fat pad rubbed against his buried cock. Something I really preferred he didn’t do during our nightly feeding sessions as it quickly exerted him, wasting energy and precious calories, but had become irresistible to Ben as our session got hotter and heavier and he simply gotten too big for me to reach both his cock and chew his hyper sensitive nipples at once.

I really didn’t want Ben getting too worked up this early in the morning, so I moved swiftly upwards to his neck roll and second, (maybe third?) chin. I really couldn’t tell generally there was one thick roll of blubber circling what had been his neck that restricted him tilting his head too far forward or back, but when he lay down with a big happy grin plastered on his chubby face, or laughed as my tongue tickled his blubber rolls a third smaller one appeared and disappeared.

“You know...” I said resting my head on his chest. “It’s really just a number, it’s not like everything you gained until now is any different” Ben gave me his massively overfed puppy dog, why did you stop eyes. The same pleading look he always gave me since he had both grown well beyond pleasuring himself in any meaningful or satisfying way and become far too lazy to even try.

-“Yeah... it’s a big number”

“A fucking huge number, three digits” I teased back, playing with my fat boy, rolling the blubber from where it had pooled on the opposite side of his chest, so it resembled its usual fat self, with half of Ben’s nipple hidden and the tip rubbing off the edge of his under tit roll.

-“You know I don’t want to stop, I love everything about this” he panted, reaching down and grabbing his under belly roll with both hands, easier now gravity wasn’t fighting him, he hugged his massive roll of overhang close to his body.

“Don’t worry” I laughed, “it’s not going anywhere, and I’m incredibly proud of you. You’re my prize fat boy, huge and perfect in every way.”

-“Good, I worried you were going soft on me” he grunted back to his normal gruff self, releasing his overhang roll of blubber back to rest on to his thighs and slapping his belly, sending a ripple through the soft, doughy outer most layer of his immense fat belly. “I know you’re into this as much as I am, I see you staring at this thing, practically drooling”

“Yeah, me go soft on you, I spent all morning at the gym. Only one of us goes soft, in this house” I laughed sticking my finger into the deep hole in a sea of blubber that was once a belly button.

-“So are we going out to celebrate”

“Of course”

-“When?”

“Now, if you’re hungry???” Now it was his turn to laugh.

-“How many years now, 2-3? When have I ever not been hungry, this thing is constantly rumbling, I’ve been sitting here half the morning waiting for you to come back. I hope you picked up food.” The man could focus on only two things, his cock, his belly or in most cases both. For the record I had never neglected to walk through the front door without a hot, greasy bag of something fried, rolled in sugar and served in a family size container. Not once in two fucking years had I let the gas gauge in my truck or my my partner’s insatiable gut hit the half empty mark.

“There’s a tray of cinnamon rolls in the kitchen, with a cup of extra Jizz and one of those half and half blended coffees milkshakes you like” but don’t fill up. I want to go out to lunch.

-“Okay, sure. Just bring me two to snack on while I get ready.

I had Ben sitting on the edge of the bed, sucking calories from a cup of syrup and half and half the size of a bucket. Getting a guy his size ready to go was a time consuming task. Showering him down on a metal bench we had built specially and was capable of holding twice his weight was the most time consuming part. Mostly because he would spread his legs and let his belly hang down between them and I couldn’t help parking my stiff cock in his belly button now it was no longer confined to tight gym shorts. But we had gotten every inch of him scrubbed down and into the roomiest pair of grey sweat pants I could find in his drawer of clothes that looked too big and oversized to fit anyone else, but on Ben nestled not quite snuggly enough to show off all of my fat boys rolls to the extent I liked but enough so they stayed up without him having to keep tugging on the waistband as his rolls made their usual seemingly independent efforts to wobble and bounce out of the clothing covering a man that was clearly too fat to be wearing anything at all.

I always waited to help Ben dress before I put on my own clothing, he enjoyed a naked muscle bound chaser manhandling him into clothes, hugging his belly and squeezing his love handles as we went and I didn’t have to get my own T-shirt damp and sweaty as I helped him manoeuvre the rolls of flesh into clothing and  get him to his feet. “Hey what shirt do you want”  Ben pulled back hard on the straw taking a mouthful of cream into his bulging chubby cheeks as he considered his options.

-Whichever one you want” he splurged, catching a splodge of whipped cream with his tongue and pulling it back into his mouth. I grabbed a thin white T-shirt from the top of the pile and pulled the almost empty cup Ben was digging around for the last drips of cream in from his grasp. He grunted, unsatisfied with being denied the pool of sweet fattening goodness at the bottom of his cup.

“Come on we need to get moving”

-Alright, lay it on me” he said impatiently.

I gathered up the handfuls of the sheet sized cotton shirt into my fists, pulling it over his arm and head. I negotiated the shirt down over his chest, adjusting his fat tits as I went and pulling it to the bottom of his belly where it stretched even thinner. It looked too small, the fabric stretching as Ben breathed in and out, but I knew once we got him standing we would be good. I slipped on his socks and sneakers and held out my forearms for him to grab.

“Come on baby, time to go”

Ben rocked back and forth twice, although his ass, chest and thighs were all massive most of his weight resided firmly in his fat belly, when standing he looked almost spherical, an immense fat blob with a head and limbs. He was getting to the stage where even with my help he some momentum to get himself off the edge of the bed. Ben’s  feet hit the floorboards causing them creak and dip a fraction of an inch. I let go of his forearms, bracing myself as his weight pushed me backwards and I caught the side of his gut taking a few dozen pounds of weight off his leg muscles.

“You good baby?”

-“Yeah, I got this” he huffed. “All good”

“First step is the hardest” I replied, rocking his flab back and forth, letting his legs adjust to taking his body weight. Ben reached a standing position his gut still hanging down, he extended his legs, taking the full weight of his belly and returning it to its normal position outstretched far in front of him. I reached round the back of his sweat pants, pulling them up over his ass fat and adjusting the elastic waistband to fit between two of his back rolls, before I tucked the front firmly under his overhanging gut. I pulled down the cotton shirt over his gut, barely hiding it from view under the thin, stretched fabric. He wobbled from left to right letting it adjust to all his rolls and folds.

“God you’re an immense fat hog” I said out loud without thinking.

-“Yup” Ben smiled back, “I really am, aren’t I? Now get your own clothes on, I can’t fucking stand here sweating all day. This 100’ tank needs filling” He pushed me out of the way with his gut and huffing and puffing reached past me to grab the cup I had left on the table by the bed. Knocking the top off with his chubby fat fingers, he stared unblinking at the clump of cream and chocolate syrup like a bright shining prize at the bottom that almost escaped him. He brought it to his lips letting the mass of calories slide into his waiting fat face. He pulled it back rolling his tongue over his face to catch most of the rim of chocolate on chin roll and held it up examining it to make sure there was nothing left at the bottom. A small drip of chocolate syrup left on the rim of the plastic slowly fell, leaving a sticky tail between the cup and Bens clean white shirt. He shrugged and tossed it in the mounting pile of trash. I had my jeans and shirt on by then and was just wrestling with the last boot.

-“Okay” he grunted, turning his momentarily satisfied belly towards the door “let’s get out of here”

As Ben had proved serious about about meeting our goals  it had quickly become necessary to trade my old house down to a rambling ranch style one with wider hallways and a total of three steps, one in the garage and two on the front front porch. I also took out the old enclosed shower and retiled the bathroom, remodelling our home to better accommodate my baby’s growing body and more limited mobility had become a fun past time. He would park his ass in an extra wide recliner, his belly over the edge of the arm rests of the chair and watch football in the living room, a sport I had never gotten into, coming from outside the USA. Yelling at the big screen Tv through mouthfuls of nachos and fried chicken, or working his way from one end of a giant burrito bigger than my forearm from this place nearby he loved and washed down with plenty of beer he often watched two or three games in a row his fat chins bobbing up and down, his mouth working overtime on his supply of game day snacks as his piggy guys were fixed squarely on meaty football players asses and trim waistlines as they ran around the field. While he enjoyed his me time, I would work on our older style home, shirtless and with a tool belt slung over my hips I retiled the bathroom, expanded the door ways, added a few extra reinforcements to our bed.

Ben waddled through the living room passed his recliner, his mammoth ass cheeks looking like two jelly filled beach balls bouncing off each other other trying to knock him off balance, it was only the forward pull of the weight from his belly that kept his momentum going forward once the started waddling in any direction. He paused for a moment to catch his breath by the front door, leaning on the wall, waiting for me to open it. Walking out into the drive and the door of the truck the sun caught his forehead and eyes, and he started to get visibly uncomfortable almost immediately, beads of sweat rolled down his fat cheeks and multiple chins. Ben spent almost all his time in doors, enjoying comfortable air conditioning that was necessary for a guy his size. He hated being warm and grumbled lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat off and exposing his round fat belly and even fatter man tits for anyone who happened to be walking down our street or in their front lawns. I swear he made them jiggle a little extra on purpose as he wiped his forehead, making a patch of his shirt even more see through. I had the engine running and the A/C on full blast in the truck waiting for him, he just needed my help to get in it. He manoeuvred his backside to the edge of the seat and, one foot on the extra heavy duty running board the auto shop and installed in my truck and a firm grasp on the side handle he pulled himself up six inches.

-“Unnnmmmpphhh... I can’t get up, help me”

“Yeah you can” I replied, wrapping my arms under the sweaty over hang of belly flab and taking some of the weight off his leg until he could the edge of his huge ass on to the leather seat and his second leg up. Grunting like an animal and using every ounce of strength he had he, with me taking a good few lbs of weight off by holding his belly, Ben edged his ass back two inches at a time until he was into the seat.

I kept the passenger seat permanently back as far and as low as it would go. Ben was as short as I was and had lost a few inches as he grew outwards and sideways. Even so the the 10 inch thick layer of blubber that cushioned his ass basically had the effect similar to sitting on a stack of phone books, lifting him up an extra half a foot and left him with a lone inch or two of head room. The leather seat did a good job of cushioning his back fat into a comfortable position and although there was no way in hell it could contain his love handles we had done a pretty long road trip last month without him needing to get out and stretch too often. Flying anywhere was out of the question for us. The problem was likely to be his belly which was almost at the edge of his knees when he spread apart his legs apart and was fast approaching the dashboard. I could see his shirt had ridden up exposing his belly button which was about 4 inches from the passenger side glove box, I had to have him hold his gut back to open the time I forgot it was unusable with Ben in the truck. Ben relaxed shifting his butt back and catching his breath, feeling the cool blow of the air conditioning on his sensitive nipples through a paper thin shirt that was already damp from wiping himself.

-“Let’s go, I’m hungry” he cheered now that he was comfortable, slapping his gut and making the whole thing wobble again.

“You got it bubba!” I replied back with the same enthusiasm, leaning over to plant one on my sweaty whale sized, mountain of fat husband to show I appreciated his efforts leaving the house. “You’re so fucking cute when we go out, you know that”

-“Am I?”

It was a short drive to the restaurant, me trying to keep my focus on the road and not get distracted by the “oomph” that came from the passenger seat every time I hit a dip in the road and Ben’s body responded accordingly his whole body wobbling and bouncing. When we got to the restaurant, I pulled the truck up right out front across a double wide handicapped space. Out was a lot easier than in and Ben didn’t even wait for me to get around to open the door, before scooting his ass to the edge and landing his round globular body out onto the sidewalk. My truck suspension moaned and returned to its upright position as my heavyweight passenger side cargo unloaded itself impatient for more food. The smell of frying grease from the kitchen out back hung in the air, making Ben take deep inhaling breaths. He began to drool slightly and without thinking ran his hand over his stomach, rubbing his belly hungrily like he was warming it up, getting it ready to accept an in human quantity of fattening food and really make a pig of himself.

Ben waddled inside pushing the wooden doors open with his gut, making one slam loudly against the door stop. I always let him enter first, the man was a sight to behold. Huge out stretched gut, the top firm and doughy, the overhanging bottom a soft blubbery roll of jello that never stopped moving and refused to stay covered by any shirt we could buy. An impressive set of tits, bigger than any women’s implants but unmistakably pure natural lard, rolling over the top of his gut and continuing all the way round to his upper back. I liked to watch people react, it was a family place. Women always looked grossed out, sometimes sympathetic, shaking their heads often dropping their forks or pushing their own food away. Men starred, mostly impressed that a guy that big could move so swiftly. Ben barged his away across the room without noticing any stares. I told you... two track mind, his belly, cock or both. Once Ben started moving he didn’t stop until he got where he wanted to be. The effort showed on him, breathing heavy, grunting as he moved. Seldom bothering to excuse himself, he grunted it inaudibly out between laboured breaths the time his enormous ass bumped a table and knocked a glass of water to the floor. Resembling something between a half waddling, half lumbering lardass he hauled his body across the room, making floorboard creak and any remaining patrons give up pretending not to look. His body wanted him to take breaks, but his mind was determined to get his ass in a chair and he relied on momentum to keep him going once he stared. It was a lot easier to just keep going than to get him moving again once he stopped to lean on a wall and catch his breath.

We grabbed a table in the far corner where we could make camp for a few hours undisturbed. Ben pushed two chairs together and slid his ass between them and the table. A hundred lbs of Ben ass forced the chairs back a couple of inches as he lowered his bulk down, the legs scraping and leaving marks on the wooden floor. His extended belly prevented him from getting too close to the table. At home Ben preferred to balance a plate on his belly, using his gut and a table and shortening the distance between the plate and his mouth considerably. When we were out he behaved him self a little more leaning forward to shovel big mouth fulls into his waiting mouth.

I took a seat across the table and admired my fat boy. Sitting there looking huge and sexy, catching his breath, rubbing his gut. They always gave us the same waitress, I tipped her $100 cash upfront and ordered us drinks, a half gallon of Rootbeer for Ben, iced water for me. Ben picked up the tankard and chugged it down and in a matter of seconds she was back with a second.

“Are you doing okay over there bubba?”

-“Yeah, just winded” he huffed, wiping sweat with his napkin. I wanted him to do it with his shirt again so I could admire his belly some more. “Where’s the food?”

“Coming” I laughed, reaching over rubbing my hand down his gut and slowly towards his crotch.

The waitress returned with a plate of piled high with fried appetisers, a board of pizza slices, a tray of chicken and beef skewers each of them family sized. Along with a pint of ranch dressing.  It was easier to order one side of the menu than to slow ourselves down ordering specifics. She put a large milkshake with whip cream on the top in front of Ben. He liked to alternate between sweet and salty so he could eat longer without his taste buds getting bored.

Ben leaned forward grabbing a slice of pizza, wrapping it round a fried cheese stick and dunking it in the ranch dressing it up, scooping it along the bowl to give it a heavy coating. He lifted the greasy, dripping morsel to his mouth, opened wide and deposited inside, following it quickly with a second. His cheeks full, he groaned deeply and sexually, enjoying his food.

Ben worked at pace through the first three platters, mixing up the food to his taste, experimenting with the salty and greasy flavours. Lubricating the dry, breaded, fried goodness with a second and a third bowl of ranch dressing so it slid down into his throat into his insatiable cavernous gut. He interspaced the appetisers with blasts of cold frosted milkshake, leaning back and letting his gut spread out, settle and taking long laboured slugs, filling his cheeks with thick cream milkshake and swallowing it on top of the mouthfuls of junk food. It usually took him about an hour of steady eating before he slowed down. He kept piling greasy fattening appetisers on top of large mouth fulls of milkshake until his gut began to resist the constant onslaught of fat and sugar he was forcefully shovelling down his throat. It was air conditioned but beads of sweat were rolling down Ben’s forehead from the exertion of eating.

-“I gotta do it man... I have to... I can’t stop” he grunted out between breaths. Wiping his sweat away.

“Do what?” I smiled back.

-“Get bigger, get fatter. You have no idea how good this feels. it’s everything I ever wanted” he lifted the furthest flabbiest roll of blubber on the edge of his out stretched belly that seemed to be trying to separate itself from the rest of his body and let it flop down on top of his thick thighs, taking a moment to settle and stop wobbling.

Ben reached forward gathering up all the spare cubes on meat and scraps of breading  that remained from a spread big enough to satisfy a half dozen people into a pile on the plate in front of him and smashing it into one lump with his first. He picked it up what remained and deposited it into mouth, rolling it round to lubricate it with drool and swallowed hard.

-“Unnnnnufff... I love... so good, so huge and fat... want more” he mumbled his eyes closed. it was more than I could take. I swapped chairs so I was by his side. The edge of his belly roll pressed up against my thigh. I lifted the edge of the outermost flab roll of his belly up and let it rest on the side of my lap so I could get closer. I reached my hand across and began to rub the top of his gut, right at the swollen, tight part where his stomach was buried. My mind wandered back to the first time we had done this, same table, a third of the food, a much skinnier, unrecognisable Ben.

-“Thanks baby... that feels good”

“Don’t mention it, you able to handle desert?”

“Of course, just give me a couple of minutes to rest”

Ben’s physiology had adapted to his massive binging sessions, he was still the same country boy that could eat and be hungry thirty minutes later, just with a bigger stomach and a fuck ton more food. I handed him his refilled tankard of iced rootbeer, knowing it would cleanse his palate and help dinner settle in his belly. Eyes still closed, I helped him guide it to his lips and loosing the last of his politeness he chugged the icy cold soda down, letting drips spill out of the corner of his mouth and down his chins. I reached up swiftly with a napkin catching the drips.

-“Uhhh thanks... I totally needed that... this stuff is heavy” he nodded at a table covered in empty plates, three empty stacked bowls of ranch, milkshake glasses sucked dry with a cherry stem stuck too the side, I ate the cherries, Ben didn’t like them. I kept rubbing the top of his gut, letting him begin digesting thousands of calories.

-“Uhhhhhh... good” he moaned” leaning back far and starting to do his favourite trick again, pushing his hips forward slightly so his under belly roll rubbed off his cock and he was able to  jerk off without touching himself. He moaned again louder, the combined feeling of a full belly sloshing round and the pressure of his bulging soft under belly rolls rubbing against his cock driving his mind to dark places. Ben leaked when he ate to full, giving him the ability to jerk himself to completion if he wanted.

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing...you’re being really loud. I’ll get you off later!” He ignored me.

“Baby, If you don’t stop that right now, we can leave without desert.” Ben’s ears pricked up, already feeling an empty space at the top of his gut forming that would perfectly fit a couple of slices of pie or an ice cream sundae.  Rounding out another meal, he didn’t want to leave.

The waitress cleared the table and deposited two thick double slices of pie and a 8 scoop ice cream sundae ‘to share’ I prepaid the check tipping her again to leave us alone. I didn’t know how long Ben would take to force these down. Finished with cutlery and tired of having to leaning forward to reach the table passed his gut Ben scooted his hips down forcing the top of his belly horizontal. it was harder for him to breath with it in this position but easier to eat. The back of the chair strained taking the shift in weight and the rolls at the backside of his Ben’s love handles splitting down the middle and half swallowing the back of the chair. He balanced the plate on the now flat top of his gut and picked up the whole slice of pie with his chubby fingers being careful not to crush it. Rubbing it in whipped cream, he brought it to his mouth. His features were’ almost indistinguishable as he shoved the slice in his face chewing and swallowing. His thick neck roll all the way around, bulging out at his ears, his chubby inflated cheeks, his short piggy nose he took deep breaths in and out of that made his tits wobble and threatened to knock the plate off his chest were all swollen up, each fighting for space. He worked his well trained lips and tongue around the slices of pie, getting a remarkable amount into his mouth and only a few crumbs on the shirt.

By the time both pie slices had disappeared Ben had well and truly lost the will to feed himself. Unable to shift his body or the chairs that anchored him solidly to the floor even an inch back, I pulled the table forward from where it had began to press against his belly.

“You know I love you right bubba”

-“Unf... yeah”

“100 inches... I’m so proud”

-Unf... yeah...” he shifted his weight a tiny fraction of an inch again, before giving up moaning, knowing there was no comfortable position to take the pressure off his gut. I loved when he reached the compliant monosyllabic stage of fullness and gluttony.

I picked up a spoonful of ice cream, bringing it to his mouth. He moaned again, pushing his lips apart and accepting the ice cream. We continued, him accepting tiny spoonfulls of chocolate, strawberry, caramel, vanilla ice cream compared to usual heaped spoonfuls covered in cream and syrup he usually shovelled in. Ben ate at the slowest pace I had ever seen him. His closed his eyes and after a while just kept them closed, moaning and muttering “please” and “more.’ I lost track of time and the last third of Ben’s Ice cream melted into a puddle at the bottom of the serving dish. The restaurant completely emptied out. We kept having to take 5 min breaks while I rubbed his belly until he was able to speak a little.

“Fuckkkk... I’m so full, please baby... please, I have to get fatter”

“Is there more left, please... I like the chocolate, I really like it, is there any more?”

“One... hundred... fucking.... inches, it feels so good. Thank you baby”

I was scraping the bottom of the dish, sad that the end was coming, but there would be many more. Ben had a way still to go, he was determined to gain and loved every lb of blubber we added to his growing fat body more than the last. I was downing my second espresso, getting the energy together to start the trip home. Ben laying back in his two chairs, eyes closed, breathing in and growling like bull as he exhaled. he might have be asleep even.

“Okay”

I said growling at him, getting to my own feet and feeling stiff after what must have been at least three hours.

“Time to go big boy” he nodded and leaned forward, grabbing my forearms and planting his feet for leverage. His ass made it a whole inch up from the seat of both chairs, the joints springing back into their original unburdened position before his fat ass came crashing back down, seriously threatening to collapse the things entirely. We tried again and the same thing happened, Ben’s leg muscles just not strong enough to bring his food filled body to a standing position.

“I think we may have over done it” I said. About 20 mins had passed since he had finished the ice cream and the most painful part of Ben’s fullness had subsided.

-“Haha... yeah... I guess we did.” He laughed back. “What do we do now?”

“Stay for dinner”, I suggested, only half joking. I was always pushing Ben’s limits, both physically and mentally.

-“Yeah, that’s an option, but I want to have some us time. Okay....help me get these chairs back and lets try once more, third time lucky. Will you do me a favour when we get home”

“Sure baby, anything.”

-“Will you get the tape out again, I want to be sure”

[lovesaadiqa]

BBL Costs, Prep + Recovery

Im booked!!  I talked to a few friends who I know either got this surgery or is getting this done.  I wanted one since forever but I wanted my teeth done first.  The deciding factor came down to my birthday plans.  

Originally I was going to do a birthday tour.  First weekend of October in Miami for carnival, 2nd weekend in Atl for Freak Nik, 3rd weekend in Bahamas and finally Nola for the finale.  Well Nola was just hit with a storm so yeah that’s out. Once I totaled up the flights, hotels, food and spending money.. I was like hmm, I can get a fat ass and started this process.  Immediately looked into surgeon and Dr. Pena was my favorite, his bodies come out so mf snatched, he’s located in Columbia.  Columbian surgeons can take out way more fat than American doctors however, the fatality rate is stupid and ultimately the factor that made me choose an American doctor.  

The next step was choosing the surgeon for the body I have and the one I want.  I weigh 151 and im 5′6″ I’m considered a “skinny bbl”.  I started researching doctors in Atlanta (so I could recover at home) and Miami (like duh).  I chose to go with Dr. Desouza in Miami with CG Cosmetics for a few reasons.  First, I love the look of his skinny bbl’s on other women with the same body type, weight and height as me.  Secondly, he was having a special for the end of the year (lipo 360, bbl, jplasma for $6500 for the surgeon I wanted) this almost sold me but it was the surgery date!!  Jplasma is skin tightening procedure to help with loose skin, you can only get this with lipo.  When they perform lipo they created canals under your skin to remove the fat.. well those same canals are essential when getting Jplasma.

Ok so I decided on the surgeon, contacted the cosmetic group and had a consultation which is pretty much just front, side and back view pictures.. I think they use this to make sure you don’t need a tummy tuck prior to surgery.  They also asked me questions about previous surgeries and if i’ve ever had anesthesia.  The next step went pretty quickly, we talked about what would be lipo’d (abs, waist, back.. I wanted inner thighs, an additional 2k, but was advised to wait on my pre-op to decide), when I wanted to book and how I'd pay.  My consult was on August 30th.. I bitched up when she attempted to take my payment.  I am a money hoarder and spending that much money made me feel like I was being financially irresponsible.  I called one of my Aunt’s who I felt wouldn’t judge me and also give me sound advise.  We talked about my fears, why I was getting the procedure and of course money.  My Aunt gave me excellent advice, reassured me and is a professional CNA who offered to accompany me so yeah I dare not turn that down, lol.  August 31, 2021, I called my coordinator (the contact between me and my surgeon) and told her I wanted to book, she asked me when I’d be ready and I requested first available which was 9/20/21!! Excited is an understatement.. I'd be 24 days post op on my birthday.  After I calmed down I paid in full for multiple reasons:  had to in order to secure the date, all surgeries book in this year had to be paid in full, it was the only way to get the discount.. My coordinator gave me so much information I couldn’t see straight (I was also high as shit off life thinking about a fat ass and me in the same sentence).. she emailed + texted everything, congratulated me and we hung up.

I get the emails:  “raise you hemoglobin with these vitamins” I purchased vitamin C $2, folic acid $2, iron $3 and floradix $35 - amazon, I take them as directed on the bottle and start eating my ass off (just to give my surgeon more to work with, lol).  Talking to one of my gf’s I realize I have to be cleared for surgery?!?!  What?  I open my email and sure enough I have to have blood work done 15-20 prior to surgery, it was 9/3 and a Friday.. SHIT!! I fly over to an Piedmont Wellstreet urgent care facility as recommended by my friend (she started this process as well so I was crazy grateful for her experience and that she shared it with me).  Urgent care was full but opened the next day, my ass was in that line at 7:32 am, I was the 13th person in line and they opened at 8.  I get to the desk and my appointment is at 10:30 and I'd have to pay the office visit fee to be seen, it was $155.  I came back at my allotted time and was told how much all of my labs would be.. $302.  My labs were to be processed and faxed to my surgeon by 9/9 because Labor Day weekend so.. yeah.  

I discuss accommodations with my Aunt and realize it’s cheaper, safer and more beneficial for me to go to a recovery house.  I search high and low baby and most of them were booked.. found one regardless with lymphatic massages included called Flawless Recovery House.  This wasn’t my 1st-6th option but the one with availability on my surgery date so I paid a deposit to hold onto my spot.  Total was $1312 for 5 days with 5 massages, I paid a $200 deposit.  Next, I booked my flight, round trip $116 with Delta.  My surgery date is on a Monday, I have to have my pre-op done on the Saturday prior so I booked a hostel from the 18th-20th on booking.com for $66.  I know I could have gotten an airbnb or hotel room but I wanted this experience.  I want to go to Amsterdam and stay in a hostel so I need to know what to expect.  Also I cannot party, smoke, drink or eat before surgery so fuck it.. a hostel will do, lol. 

I smoke big fucking weed and watched someone else’s bbl journey today and realize if I fail the drug test, my surgery will be cancelled and it’ll cost me $1500 to reschedule.  Boy the shit sent me into panic mode like I've never experienced before, only to find out the weed isn’t the issue nicotine is, it slows down your heart rate.  I can smoke weed just not out of a wood or a rillo and nicotine takes 3-4 days to get out of your system so a bitch barely made it.  I just won't be smoking until I get back home lol.  Just to be super informative no alcohol, diabetic meds, cocaine, pcp or anything that will fool with your heart or makes your bleed.  Today is 9/11 and im one week out from my pre-op... my body is a joke cause I haven’t gained a single pound and normally it’s nothing for me to put on weight.  I took my acrylics off, when you’re put to sleep they monitor your oxygen levels with those clamps they put on your fingers and they aren't the most accurate when you have on dark polish or acrylics.  I also cannot wear lashes cause when they go to fill this ass in I'll be laying flat on my face.  I mean my hair didn’t have requirements but I figure since im naked I might as well be bald.. y'all should see me rn, I look very much like a young man but im hype.  I’ll be back later to tell y'all what I pack and purchase prior to my flight.  Imma put the dates at the end of each update.. today is 9/11/21

My surgery group send me list of supplies  that I would need and the cost came to roughly $1100.  Naive me was definitely going to purchase everything on the list from them until I saw Leslie’s (@prettyhaute - on ig) bbl vlog.  I went on amazon and got away with murder.  Below I’ll list what I purchased and the price I paid versus what the surgery center was quoting me.

Faja - I paid $74.69 - Quoted $160.50 || BBL Pillow - $26.99 - Qouted $42.80 || Arnica pills - $8.95 - Quoted $37.45 || Compression socks - $13.99 for 3 - Quoted $10.70 for 1 || Foams - $17.99 for 3 - Quoted $64.20 for 3 || Scar Cream  $$29.82 - Quoted $80.25 || Arnica Gel - $7.92 - Quoted $21.40 || 

There a shit ton of items on the suggested list that I didn't purchase but way more items that wasn’t on the list I still need for instance:

Crocs, benadryll, robe, adult diapers, straws, earplugs, liquid iv, stool softener, antiseptic body wash, avocado float, back board, urinal, pineapple juice, throat calm, 3 moo-moo’s and a massage roller (the crocs are the only thing on this list that cost more than $20).  My flight is at 7:15a tomorrow and im so damn nervous but excited.  I will spend Saturday and Sunday gallivanting around Miami and then body , ody, ody, ody, ody, ody.  I still have to send my entire itinerary to my aunt but I think im all set.  9/17/21

Pre-op was packed but I went on Saturday and was in and out in an hour.  I was charged for a covid $80, 3 post-op massages $150 and a drug test $20.  I went over my clearance paper work with a medical assistant who also took 9 before pics of me.  Keep in mind, your surgery can be cancelled or reschedule if all of you labs aren’t at the surgery center on pre-op day.  I cannot stress how important it is to take your labs with you!!!  Mine were faxed over from urgent care but I was also provided copies which I took with me.  The photos were sent directly to my surgeon to analyze before surgery.  From my knowledge, I was also to be fitted for my faja but that never happened, do NOT leave pre-op without a faja!!! I paid for 3 massages from CG totaling $150 which I regret badly.  I do NOT recommend getting massages from the surgery center.  There are 4-5 different surgeons performing surgeries on any given day and they do at minimum 4 surgeries per day, that’s at least 15-20 different girls with the same surgery and post-op date.  CG had 2 massage therapists to drain 15-20 girls.  I was drained for 9 mins, your drain massages should last at least 45 mins for maximum drainage.  I only used 1 of the 3 massages I paid for and was denied a refund.  That is a huge downside to CG once they have your money good fucking luck getting it back! Ps. Ellie was a royal fucking cunt!!!!!  She told my medical assistant that I didn’t need a faja so I was never fitted for one and woke up out of surgery with a binder on versus a faja like I should have.  I wanted to slap the shit out of her and took the charge on the chin but I wanted my surgery so I refrained.. I was put on a 12 hour fast and contacted an hour after pre-op with my surgery address and time.  My fast started at 7pm the day before surgery and my surgery time wa at 6:30a, there was a $300 for showing up to surgery late.  All I could bring to surgery was compression socks and a faja (that I didn’t have), I was instructed to bathe with dial (the orange one) before surgery to make sure my incisions weren’t infected, no lotion, perfume, deodorant, makeup, nails, lashes, no jewelry/piercing or hair products and no personals ie, purse money, wallet also you will need a companion or surgery will be cancelled.  I’ll upload all my paperwork at the end.   Surgery day arrive at the surgery center at 6:15 am how about the entire fucking staff was late!  Bitch I was outside in Miami alone with compression socks on and a moo moo, LIVID.  No one arrived until 7:10 am, baby I wanted to kill everyone but fuck it, it was go time.  I’m escorted to a room, changed into a paper gown, piss tested, my labs were reviewed again and finally my surgeon comes in!  We were in the exam room alone which was weird cause I was asshole naked but he kept it 1000% professional, he asked me what I wanted and I say “the fattest ass” he looked me dead in my eyes without a single hesitation and said “it’ll heal like a diaper”  LMAO.  I showed him areas that I wanted lipo’d to death and he marked me up, I didn’t aka e picture of my mark ups but shit was rolling by then, he walked out I put my paper gown back on and the anesthesiologist walked in.  I expressed my biggest concerns to him, I didn’t want to die and I didn’t want to wake up during surgery.  He explain why the drug test was so important because certain street drugs will have adverse effect with the anesthesia.  My anesthesiologist walked me up to the surgery room and I hopped on the table, they put massage boots on both of my feet and inserted an iv, the mask was put on my face and my heart rate went to heaven, I wanted to shit myself bro.  The anesthesiologist told me to make a tight fist, I asked what time it was, 8:08am.. I woke up to a nurse helping me into a wheelchair with a binder around my waist and I was scream crying because my entire body ached, I didn't know where I was and the anesthesia is no hoe.  I was escorted to my recovery house’s transportation van and taken to my damn bed.  

I chose Flawlesss Recovery House with Ms. Opal.  I paid a $200 deposit before 2 weeks before surgery and the balance the day I left.  I opted for a 5 day stay.  I loved it there bro and couldn’t imagine trying to recover at a hotel or air bnb!  There were nurses there 24-7, I was roomed with one other girl but the house had a total of 4 bedrooms, one of which no one occupied and the door was always shut but my room was the only room with 2 beds, the others had 3 beds.  I had a call button, it was love, the nurses came expeditiously when I rang it.  They made 3 home cooked meals per day and I don’t eat meat, they accommodated me with no hesitation.  I loved it man.  So couple hours after surgery I attempted to use the bathroom on my own and blacked out, the anesthesia is really fucking strong and took an entire day to wear off (for me), the nurses helped me pee in a cup until then.  Post op day 9/21/21, I went in to make sure I looked good, got a faja finally and received that lousy as drain.  Back to the recovery house I was able to walk finally w/o passing out and in went my foams, I also could pee by myself with the use of a urinal.  I was constipated for 2 days, first bowel movement was on post op day 2. I paid for an independent massage therapist named Tatiana, she used a ultrasound machine to massage me so I cancelled her.  When I took my faja off for my massage it was washed and dried by the time I was done, I took a shower and put my faja on with my foams.  I cancelled Tatiana because don’t let nobody use no machine on you until you are at least 2 weeks post op, hand massages only.  All the girls were getting massaged by the literal best massage therapist (in my opinion) her name is Brittany, I could cry she was EVERYTHING, I was tender but she put the painful massage theory to bed!  She taught me how to drain myself and how to open my incisions without the q-tip looking thing.  In 45 mins she drained 5 of those doggy pad things worth of fluid off of me.  I received 4 massages in 5 days.  I left on Saturday 9/25/2021 on Sunday, back in Atlanta, I received my 5th massage and that when I was told I have not one but 2 seromas.  I swear on everything I love it was because everyone wakes up from surgery with a faja on but not me (Fuck you Ellie, lil bitch) I had on a binder (its what they use for tummy tucks).  The lady who did my 1st massage in Atlanta was Bri, not gone post her ig cause she did a damn good massage but when I asked her to syringe drain me the good sis stuck this long ass needle in my seroma but could get the fluid out, cancelled her too (the massage was good asf tho but nah).  Tired and tried I bit the bullet and booked a packed with Dream Body ($455 for 5 massage, I think, don’t quote me look it up on there site and follow them on ig)  because they are the biggest name in Atlanta, Jayda Wayda goes to them.  The  most painful massage yet, yes Michelle lil ass is so strong but she will get the fluid up off you.  She made me tear up bad and no matter how much I screamed or even tried to push her off of me she understood the assignment, Michelle helped me get back into my faja after my massage and told me my faja was too big and to have it altered.  She recommended a lady on ig @siri2sir but to know me is to know I altered my shit myself.  Allow me to tell y'all, I look good asf!!!!!!! 10/4/2021 

[colorseeingchick]

Hello, colorseeingchick, I hope you’re having a nice day, and congrats on reaching 200 followers! I wanted to say I really like your Kuroko no Basket posts. I was recently looking for some small fanfics of Kuroko no Basket and I am glad I’ve found yours. I am also looking forward to reading your “Oh! Baby Series” of Tsukishima.

For the 200 Follower event, I would like to request a Kuroko no Basket matchup. I’d prefer to be matched with a male and my pronouns are she/her. I am currently 16 years old, I have brown skin and dark brown eyes. My hair is a dark brown color(almost black), very curly, and it reaches toward my mid-back. I’m 5’2” in height and I am an Aquarius(For Midorima).

I usually like to watch anime and read in my free time. I really love chocolate and exercising. I dislike people that lie a lot, peanuts, peanut butter, pecans, almonds, avocados, and onions. My hobbies are writing, drawing, reading, watching tv, singing, and playing the Piano. I think I’m particularly talented at writing since everyone seems to like my writing very much and right now I’m practicing my creative writing skills.

Personality: When I first meet someone, I tend to be quiet and just observe everyone. If anyone comes up to me, I usually just introduce myself, and depending on who the person is I may strike up a conversation. If I don’t then the person that’s talking to me will usually make conversation and I will quietly listen. I would usually just nod or say things like (yea, right, mhm) to show that I am listening. If I begin to feel comfortable I will give my opinion on the subject or try to strike up my own topic. But once I get really comfortable with that person I can become very goofy. I’ll start randomly dancing in the hallways and make weird sounds when I’m with that person. And depending on the person this can either increase or decrease in weirdness. I’m very good at listening to people especially when it comes to a person talking about their passions. My friends and family tend to laugh at a few things I say. They’re never really jokes there just situations I’ve been in and Apparently, they’re funny. I don’t tend to touch people, the most I really do regularly is either is put my hand/elbow on the person’s shoulder(Doesn’t matter if they’re tall or short) or begin poking them in odd places.

Negative Things: If someone is sad or insecure about something, I don’t know how to react, I usually just stare at them while they cry to themselves. I would not suggest that any of my friends come to me for emotional support. Unless they just want someone to listen to them. I don’t know how to take compliments. Once someone compliments me I usually just stare at the person or say thank you very slowly.

Additional: Since me and my friends were in chorus, we would usually just begin singing our chorus songs very loudly. It didn’t matter where we were, we would just begin singing. There was a time where my friend called me super sweet because I was checking up on them during the pandemic. My friends also said I give the best presents and truthfully I struggle trying to find presents. I want to give my friends something they can use or they really like. For example, I gave my friend a drawing notebook and some art supplies since they like to do art. I’ve been told that I have a mean resting face and that I act more mature for my age. I also asked my friends to describe me and they said, “Beautifully, Creative, Loving, Silly, Writer, Fashionable, Pretty, Innocent, and Nice Hairstyles.”

I swear I don’t where they’re getting these nice compliments. Hopefully, this is not too long.

Hello noodleman!!!! This was perfect do not worry. They compliment you because you're amazing haha. I always see you in my notifications and it makes me so happy :) I’m very excited to do both your matchups! For KNB, I’ve matched you with…

Akashi Seijuro!

We all know Akashi is a powerful man who’s been through a lot. As a girlfriend, you would be the one to both compliment his power and balance out his emotional state, even if you don’t intend to. And that would be the source of the beauty of your relationship with him.

You were a student at Rakuzan who would mind her own business. Akashi was in your class (ranking at the top) for the new school year, and you two sat next to each other. Akashi (this is the OG Akashi- the nice one) would introduce himself to you, and you would do the same. You observed Akashi quietly. The way he was so put together. His calm demeanor. His pretty eyes and how they were keenly watching everything. You didn’t realize he was observing you as well. While you both were just normal acquaintances at that point, things were about to change.

One day, you heard Akashi talking about basketball next to you. You could hear how passionate he was about it from the way he talked. The person he was talking to walked away, but you couldn’t help but ask him about basketball. Watching him talk that way was so enticing.

He looked at you for a second before smiling kindly and asking, “would you like to learn about basketball?” From there, you two would have a very engaged conversation with Akashi fanboying in a way that was as classy as fanboying could get, while you were listening attentively. You had to leave for the end of the day, but you left with a smiling Akashi out the door of the classroom.

The next major interaction between you two happened a few days later. You were doodling in your notebook when you heard him speak. “You’re very talented at drawing.”

You smiled awkwardly at the compliment, unsure of how to respond, so you just looked at him. He didn’t mind though. He just smiled back. “If you draw again, I’d like to see.” He then left soon after.

While you didn’t doodle again, you decided that maybe you were comfortable around Akashi, more than you thought you were.

A major shift in your dynamic happened one day when you were writing down intensely into a journal, stopping only when your hand hurt, taking time to think about your next words when you felt a light tap on your arm.

“Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you writing?” He genuinely looked interested, which caught you by surprise.

And so you explained the short story you were writing. Akashi asked questions about the characters, the plot, where you got the idea from- all sorts of things. You both didn’t realize everyone else had already emptied out. “If you would like to share your story with me sometime, I would love to read it. And if you’d like to come by and watch my basketball team play, let me know.”

He was surprisingly easy to talk to. And that was the point where you both got closer. As you got closer, talking and learning more about each other, you both started to fall bit by bit. You both had a long list of hobbies and talents, much of which overlapped. Akashi was mesmerized by your singing, though he knew you wouldn’t like to hear the compliment if he gave it to you. Instead, he just asked you to always sing and gave you his full attention when you did. It went without say he loved your writing. He was a talented musician himself, and you found his game pretty entertaining- the way he dominated on the court.

He asked you out after Rakuzan had taken a big victory before the winter cup. You’d come to watch the game.

“Will you celebrate with me?” He asked you.

“With your team?”

“No, actually.” He’d smile at you and step closer, but had not invaded your personal space. “I’d like to actually get some time with you, on a date.”

He was pleased you said yes. The date went well. He’d learned you were mature, which is what he was looking for in a partner. He already knew you were talented and a good listener. It wasn’t long before he asked you to be his girlfriend officially.

Your dynamic with Akashi was well tailored. Being the captain of Rakuzan, he had an image to maintain- one of power. And having a girlfriend who he knew to be intimidating as well (your resting face was intense) was a fitting situation. He knew you observed and listened well, which is why he could trust that you would be thoughtful- something that was also very important to him. You also cared for efficiency and purpose. But what he didn’t realize he needed so badly was your goofiness. After you two had gotten as close as you were, he learned how funny your stories were and saw you in your most comfortable states. He loved your fun goofy side. It helped him live a little, too. He enjoyed elbowing you back when you did it to him (it was the most innocent playful thing he’d done). It didn’t bother Akashi all that much that you didn’t know how to deal with other people being emotional. He wasn’t one to show negative emotions all that much and didn’t project that expectation onto you, which made it a bit easier. He knew that if he needed to talk it out and have someone listen, he could always go to you.

Overall you and Akashi managed to balance out on a lot of your ideologies, world views, hobbies, and life practices. While some were the same, others were different- but in a complimentary way. It’s quite a beautiful dynamic, really.

~~~

Ahhh I really hope you like it! Lemme know what you think hehe. I'm excited to do your MHA one too!

#knb #knb matchup #csc hits 200 #colorseeingchick milestone

[traincat]

Hi traincat! Hope you're doing well. I figured since you have an extensive knowledge on all things Spider-Man, you would know your way around his rogues! I wanted to ask if you have a favorite or one that you find most compelling and why. Thanks a million!

I think my answers for which rogues are my favorites and which I find most compelling and which are widely viewed as the best and why are all pretty wildly different. I do think the popular assessment that Spider-Man has one of the best rogues galleries in Marvel canon is true. Like, I think the absolute best Spider-Main villain story -- the one that gives you the best sense of the villain as a character and also the one that works best at uniting villain and is Kraven’s Last Hunt, which is just incredible on every level. (Content warning for suicide.)

(Web of Spider-Man #32) Also, like, in terms of design, Kraven is great. Love a big Russian game hunter perpetually bare chested and wearing leopard print cropped leggings. That’s not something you get sick of. Only Kraven Sr. for me, though -- I’m less fond of his son, although I think the whole family affairs in Grim Hunt and Scarlet Spider v2 are pretty fun.

On the other hand, though, I think that some of the biggest villains in Spider-Man’s gallery, namely Norman Osborn and Doc Ock, are overused, although I know why they’re overused and it’s because they’re really good villains. (But also you can only make people pay for the same story so many times with only minor variations before it starts to get old.) I think Norman and Peter are pretty perfect opposites, whereas Otto and Peter are mirror images -- although I think generally Norman stories pull off that opposite nature better than Otto stories reveal him as a mirrored image of Peter. 

I think it’s interesting that Otto is kind of the first “big” villain Peter encounters -- he makes his debut in ASM #3, so there are villains that come before him, but they’re like, the Vulture and the Chameleon. And there are great Vulture stories -- love that flying octogenarian -- but like, I would not put the Vulture in the absolute top tier Spider-Man villains. And the Chameleon is a freak.

Same, girl. (Web of Spider-Man #65) 

More villain talk beneath the cut.

By comparison, Otto is the first villain to actually serve Peter a real defeat, the first one to humble him. So I think it’s interesting that they come from very similar backgrounds -- both geniuses, both lonely as children, both people who were in danger of becoming very solitary, isolated adults, which Otto did and which Peter did not. They had a mother figure who verged on at times or was actually smothering in her affections, and a salt of the earth type father figure. And Otto gains his powers after suffering an accident with radiation much the same way Peter does. It’s one of the things that disappoints me about Superior Spider-Man, because I don’t think it plays into the idea of Otto and Peter as mirrored images of each other nearly as much as it could have. Even Otto’s Parker Industries originally showed up in a “bad” version of Peter’s life, where he never got bit by the spider and instead becomes a CEO:

(Sensational Spider-Man #41) “You prove yourself to everyone -- except yourself.” Which is what Otto is continually trying to do, and which is what he always falls short of. So it’s interesting that there’s kind of all this set up here and that the actual comics sort of continually fall short of it. 

Green Goblin stories live up to their rep a little better, in my opinion, and they’re better at playing into those parallels. Norman and Peter are both self-made men, but Norman is rich and Peter is not. Peter accepts responsibility and fault; Norman does not. Norman’s life is devoid of women, while Peter’s is full of it. If Norman and Peter are both studies in masculinity, then Norman’s is toxic and Peter’s is not. Peter is capable of growth; Norman is entrenched in this role he’s made for himself -- he is not capable of sustained growth beyond the role he’s made for himself. There’s a reason I think Norman gets used so much and it’s because it’s a heady dynamic to kind of play into -- especially when you go with the relatively more recent angle of things where Norman kind of views Peter as the perfect heir, worthy where Harry is not. Honestly, it’s a good time whenever you’re involving Harry in the mix at all, as someone caught between these two very powerful figures and how the tug-of-war there for ownership of him is just completely soul destroying. 

(Spectacular Spider-Man #180)

But I do think Norman is overused, and it’s gotten a point where in Amazing Spider-Man #800 it was like -- oh, what, he’s going to kill Flash? He’s going to kill someone else Peter loves? He’s killed like half the main-main cast at this point. He’s behind the murder of Peter and Mary Jane’s baby, he’s responsible for Ben Reilly’s death, he killed Gwen Stacy, Harry’s death goes directly back to him, he’s kidnapped May and Mary Jane and Flash and blah blah blah it’s JUST TOO MUCH. It can’t always be this one guy! You can’t just bring him back every 50 issues like “this time Norman Osborn’s gone too far” when he went too far in the ‘70s. Everything since then has just been trying to recapture the moment he threw Gwen Stacy off the bridge. It’s exhausting. I’m begging Spider-Man, as it starts hyping up yet another Norman story for ASM #850, to do something new.

In comparison to Norman, I think Harry’s run as the Green Goblin is fairly flawlessly executed as far as villain stories go, especially in its final hour. Spectacular Spider-Man #200 is really one of my favorite single issues of all time. Harry has the pathos that Norman really never does -- you can feel for Harry in a way that you can’t feel for Norman. And it’s because Harry loves Peter -- really, truly loves him -- that his acts of villainy take on that special edge of cruelty. It doesn’t just hurt Peter that these things are being done; it hurts Peter that these are being done and that it’s Harry doing them and that, in a lot of ways, they both blame Peter for why Harry is doing them, even if at the end of the day it’s in no way Peter’s fault. And then there’s the utterly perfect moment as Harry dies in Spectacular Spider-Man #200, that his act of triumph is that he can’t bring himself to kill Peter, because he loves him too much. It’s perfect. I live in fear they’re going to make Harry a villain again and try to replicate it only to fall painfully short. 

I think the Jackal is actually underutilized because he is in my honest opinion the scariest Spider-Man villain, or at the very least the creepiest. Where Norman can only dream of remaking Spider-Man in his own image, the Jackal actually does that with Ben Reilly -- and, to a lesser extent, with Kaine, his first damaged clone. He’s a good lurker, too, less show-y than either Otto or Norman. He lurked in the background for a while. And in a series where I think you can pick a lot of the villains apart as men who take advantage of their power, having the Jackal be a college professor whose villainous career stems from his obsession with one of his students fits right in. And he’s just creepy. He’s upsetting! The things he does to the clones -- both the Peter and Gwen clones, although I think the comics are not so great at letting the Gwen clones shine as individual characters, which is something I wish someone would actually do something about -- are very upsetting, especially since you can extrapolate from a lot of Kaine’s stories and the things we know bother him and how he’s consistently paralleled against Janine Godbe, that both Kaine and the Gwen clones were sexually abused by the Jackal. (Spider-Man’s not typically shy about examining darker subjects, and while we can only extrapolate from canon with Kaine, it’s extremely there on the surface with the Gwen clones. I mean, he married one.) And honestly, the villain who’s whole schtick is cloning makes more sense as someone who can repeatedly come back from anything than Norman’s deal of Corrupt Businessman Surprisingly Hard To Kill. I’ve said before that Peter appears to have a bit of a loophole in his personal moral code when it comes to violence that either has no consequences or lessened consequences, like when he cuts loose against Wolverine, someone who has a healing factor, or when he buried the Juggernaut, supposedly indestructible, in concrete. The Jackal as someone who could and has clone himself repeatedly opens up similar doorways -- what’s to stop Peter from cutting loose if the Jackal isn’t confined to this one body? There’s a lot to play with there and a lot more interesting spaces to go than, say, having to invent increasingly poor excuses for why Peter hasn’t taken more permanent action with Norman if Norman is always going to return to do harm to someone beloved to Peter.

Finally, I’m in a weird spot with personal favorite villains because honestly my instinct is to say the Lizard. And that’s an issue because of one fairly recent storyline and everything that’s spun out from it: Shed (Amazing Spider-Man #630-633), the storyline where Curt Connors loses all control over the Lizard, kills, and partially devours his son Billy. Like, I LIKE grim dark Spider-Man comics, and Shed is honestly too much for me -- not because of the Lizard’s actions, but because in the story Peter fails to save Billy. And I say not because of the Lizard’s actions because I think, as fun as a giant lizard man in purple pants and a lab coat can be, I think Curt Connors makes for one hell of a supervillain metaphor for domestic violence. 

(ASM #365)

(Spectacular Spider-Man v2 #13) And it’s very compelling. There’s a lot of things to explore down that alley. But once you actually go as far as having the Lizard kill his son, you can’t take that back. And the problem is, that’s what Spider-Man comics have tried to do post-Shed. It feels weird and deeply out of character to have writers assume that Peter could forgive the murder of any child, let alone a child he knew, and have him continue his relationship with Curt Connors. It’s a weird message to go “yeah, he ate his kid, but he wasn’t in control, and he made up for it via cloning, so we’re all good now.” Like imagine trying to spin that in any horror movie. It doesn’t work -- that your villain kills his kid and then clones him and pretends everything is okay now would be the plot of the horror movie. Spider-Man is a series fundamentally built on the fact that actions have consequences, and sometimes those consequences are utterly unfixable. Peter can’t go back and intercept the burglar to prevent Uncle Ben’s death. He can’t clone Uncle Ben and wipe that incident out of history. So to have a story like Shed in continuity as something that doesn’t alter Peter’s perception of Curt Connors forever doesn’t work.

Anyway that’s why my favorite villain is the Shocker. Love that quilted bastard.

#traincat talks comics #*replies #long post/

[ittybittydragonfox]

Mental Illness is Not Psychic Power

That’s a doozy of a title, ain’t it? But it’s true, and it reflects the lies I was told by my earth-and-spirit-loving pagan and witch communities growing up. For those that don’t know, I’m a lifelong witch of 25 years from a generational family that’s been practicing witchcraft for 200 years. My parents are also pagans. My father is a legal, ordained High Priest.

And despite all that spiritual education, I still grew up hearing these two phrases: “Mental illness doesn’t exist. All you need is to connect with nature and your spirituality.” “You’re not mentally ill, you’re psychic!”

Sounds a lot like “You’re a wizard, Harry!” And just like Harry Potter is a pile of fiction, so are these statements. Let’s talk about it.

I don’t talk about my personal demons too much, but I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). These two things combined have resulted in two very real symptoms that the pagan and witch communities like to attribute to psychic awareness: hallucinations (”Visions”) and erratic, unpredictable, sometimes strange behavior that is complete uncharacteristic of me (”Channeling”). Those that live with me (my partner and, in the past and near future, roommates) have gotten to see me do some truly odd things in an attempt to hide my illness, but the things I do when I can’t hide it anymore are even more strange. I’ve hidden in sheds in my pajamas in -20 F weather because I thought my hallucinations couldn’t follow me there. I’ve spoken in a heavy accent from a country I’ve never been to. I don’t answer to my name. I ask people I’ve known for years, in homes I’ve lived in for months “who are you and where am I?”

Growing up, I showed a lot of these odd symptoms. I do have psychic abilities, and so, when I started hallucinating at the age of 14, my parents wanted to believe my Sight/Clairvoyance was just showing me “new things”. But the fact was, my PTSD had been so bad, and untreated for so long, that I was seeing things that truly weren’t there. These are not spirits. They are my fears incarnated into visuals and sounds. The more terrified I became, the more my pagan parents, our churches, and covens would tell me that “everything is alright. These are just spirits. You know how to banish spirits. We’ll help banish them. You’re just getting more powerful. You’re just becoming more aware.” And no matter what I did, no matter how powerful the High Priest/ess in my church, no matter how in-tune the witch in my circle was, they could neither sense these spirits, nor banish them. They assumed that because my psychic senses are overdeveloped anyway, I was seeing something invisible even to most powerful psychics. The truth was, I was just a frightened child being followed around by a grinning, white monster created by my own mind specifically to scare me. And the constant sound of doors being slammed or dogs growling that only I could hear was keeping me awake every night and ruining my straight-A performance in school.

I’ve had DID since childhood, and my parents were used to my erratic, uncharacteristic behavior. They shrugged off my not answering to my name, and my friends seemed to just accept that I called myself by 20 different names. The truth was, I was dissociating, and an alter had taken my place. And no, I couldn’t control it. I still struggle with control. DID is not something I get a choice in. It’s not fun and it makes my life extremely difficult. I don’t enjoy waking up after 3 days to find that my friends have been trying to call me, I didn’t attend my doctor’s appointments, and I may have done any number of things, none of which I can remember. And that’s if I get lucky and wake up at home. My pagan and witch communities believed I was channeling, because I am a spirit worker, and they believed I was one of the best at it, save for the fact that I couldn’t control it. They believed when they spoke to me as my child alter, that they were speaking to the Young God, or a child spirit, through me. But they weren’t, and they refused to believe otherwise. They never questioned that they were talking to God or a fairy or what have you.

This comes from a misguided belief that mental illness isn’t real. Or that it can be treated with some herbs and yoga. Because of this, I spent 10 years struggling with my mental illness untreated. Everywhere I went, people looked at me as something to Be. “A powerful psychic who sees into a whole other world.” They viewed me as dramatic or gatekeep-y when I said I wouldn’t want others to have this “power” or that I wouldn’t teach them to see. But the fact is, I was incapable of teaching anyone anything about these skills. Because I didn’t have them. I had a mental illness, and my brain was rebelling against me.

This absolute denial that mental illness exists leads to people attributing illness with power. It’s not healthy, and it leads to a really harmful culture where people with mental illness can’t see that they need help, and they don’t get the help they need. Often times we end up with people with illnesses leading groups, sometimes working with the “visions” (hallucinations) they’re having. Or worse, we end up with this toxic idea that taking the medicine someone might need is hindering their awareness, which is some ableist bullshit I still fight with all the time in psychic circles.

I’m not saying that clairsenses don’t exist. I have them, and I believe in them, but there must also be a balance of discernment in the pagan and witch communities. We have to learn to accept the science: The brain is an organ, and it can malfunction just like any other organ can. Mental illness is an illness, and it often needs the help of doctors and therapists to treat it. Loving ourselves and building a better community means it’s time to examine this ableist bias, and do what’s right, so that we stop passing these gross ideas down to the next generation of magic-inclined folx.

My psychic community meant well, but in their effort to erase illness, they made me sicker and used that sickness as a reason to both uplift me and spite me. They gave me undue praise and anger for a thing I can no more control than someone else can control their diabetes. And worst of all, they blinded my family into not getting me help before these illnesses very nearly took my life. My parents almost lost their son to the depression that comes with PTSD. And it took them almost losing my sister too for them to understand that while we may have psychic abilities, we are also sick, and we need help. My parents have since become an active part of my and my sisters’ recoveries. They support us, where once they had been afraid of us losing something if we took these steps, and do their bests to uplift us. We’re both better. Neither of us want to die anymore. I’m on anti-psychotics and an anti-depressant now. I still have hallucinations but they are manageable. I’m in talk therapy, and I’ve learned how to decipher what’s the difference between me seeing a spirit, and me hallucinating. I still do spirit work, but I understand that my alters are not spirits possessing me. They are fragments of my mind, and I am reflected in them. I’m learning to come to terms with that and trying to go through integration. It’s a long road. I still see spirits. My medicine did not take that from me. I still talk to deities. My medicine didn’t take that away either. But my medicine does help me approach them without fear, and with certainty that they are real, and not a figment of my ill mind. And because of that, I can have a meaningful, fulfilling relationship with spirits and deities, built on trust and love instead of the innate fear of “not knowing”.

So for anyone out there who needs to hear it, because it’s important: You are not a failure in your faith or spirituality because you realized you are ill and sought help. Taking care of your mind does not make it, or you, weaker. Let’s change the narrative, and learn as a community that seeking help is how we grow stronger.

Jake

#witchblr #paganblr #witch #witchcraft #spiritual #spirituality #faith #spirit work #spiritwork #pagan #paganism #clairsenses #clairsense #clairsensitive #psychic #mental heath support #mental illness #mental health #PTSD #DID #personal #tw suicide #suicide #ableist #ableism #magic

[lightinalexandria]

Language Turning Point- August 5, 2021 اغسطس ٥

How many languages do I need to study before it sinks in that language learning progress is more like a staircase than a ramp? Apparently more than this one. I can’t pinpoint exactly when, but sometime around the week I came back from Eid break end of July, a couple things finally started suddenly to click. I count four big changes.

One was my confidence to just engage in any conversation in the first place, expecting a positive outcome. I’m not even sure that I’ve gotten any better at understanding the actual words most people are saying when we strike up a conversation on the street. At least these past few weeks, though, I find myself floating along with the jolly grace and hazy understanding of a late night conversation at the bar.

The second is my vocabulary. It’s expanding! I made about 200 flash cards over the break, and drilled a fair amount in coffeeshops. I think that helped, and there was always a friendly face around to help me with pronunciation. I don’t know if I can attribute it just to flashcards, though. This new vocab is one level up from conversational, and gets into the heart of the questions I want to ask about the culture. “Development.” “Privacy.” “Depression.” “Colonization.” “Virginity.” “To succeed.”

The third especially feels like a progress marker, because I’ve written so much about the complexity of Arabic verb structures. I still falter on my own conjugations lots, but I’m noticing I can increasingly peel off the beginning and ending sounds of a verb in real time, and unscramble the vowel sounds to get at the root verb. For a relatively simple example, the verb to hear is “sahm-AGH ” سمع in the infinite form. If I hear the sound “ma-sahm-AGH-tsh”, I need to unpack the beginning and end, and any conjugation in the middle. This is using the negative form (the “M” at the beginning and “sh” at the end), and since there is only a conjugated sound towards the end of the verb root (the “T) sound, this verb is conjugated in the past tense, in this case the “I” form of the past tense. So, the one word means “I didn’t hear.” Phew. Thanks brain. The plural forms of gendered nouns continues to dangle out of reach most days (Lord English is so simple with plurals. “Dog. Dogs.” Beautiful), but I’ll take what I can get now.

The last change is the most exciting. I can finally start to engage in the kind of conversations I’m studying Arabic to have. Taxes, housing policy, generational trauma, colorism, sex, gender equality, tourism development. I’ve been having these conversations in English with Egyptian friends since the beginning, but having them in English means I’m talking to a more formally educated, often wealthier, often more progressive young Egyptian. It’s been one of the greatest joys of these past few months to have these conversations with one of my Arabic teachers Ines, a wonderful human with a profoundly conservative worldview. Our first 6 weeks this summer were taken with improving my fluency and talking lots about my past, current and future plans. She is a a truly amazing teacher -I have high standards for my fellow teachers, as many of you know- with the gift of knowing just when to push and when to support and when to wait. Neither of us have any illusions about convincing the other of anything, but there’s an intense curiosity from both sides to understand just how the heck we could view the world so differently, and tremendous mutual respect.

Dept of Obvious Noticings, talking to Ines has made me realize that up until now my Arabic has been almost exclusively small talk, and my big “aha’s” about American and Egyptian culture have come from English or wordless noticings. I haven’t quite put my finger on exactly why yet, but there’s something so incredibly powerful about hearing answers to deep and personal questions in someone’s native language. It’s like the old Claritin commercial where you think the screen is clear but then a thin film of plastic or something is peeled back and everything on screen gets a little brighter. Is it because we have different personalities when we speak different languages? That every word in our native tongue is chosen and spoken effortlessly? That accented non-native English somehow feels less “true”?

I just know that starting these conversations is motivating me to lock down even more vocab and conjugations in this last month. It took a long time to get here, and I want to learn all I can while the settings good.

Language learning triumphs are almost never apparent in the moment, and on the rare occasions they are, it’s more of a dull relief than an endorphin rush. I’m not constantly delighted by my ability to have conversations in languages I already speak, and so when I’m in the moment of understanding a particular conversation in Arabic, it’s suddenly just another conversation that I understand. It feels more like the dumbbell is suddenly off my shoulders than a victory balloon is lifting me off the ground.

The Eid vacation after I came back from Siwa was an emotional low point of the summer. I was out of my usual routine, everyone was out of town or busy, and I was frustrated with both my perceived lack of progress in Arabic and lack of self discipline to study on my own during those days.

Us humans just adapt so darn fast. Homeostasis is a helluva biological mechanism, but it’s not great for emotional victory laps. And I think a small one is warranted. It’s been night and day these last two weeks.

#arabic #language learning