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wooyunhwa · 4 years

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kingdom of welcome addiction | C.S.

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Genre: smut (mostly suggestive in this part though)

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: blood drinking, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

If you had to read the words pythagorean theorem one more time, you were gonna smash your brains in.

You reached over to your phone, unlocking your screen to the group chat.

y/n: anyone wanna come over and help me with this dumb problem? my heads gonna implode.

chaeyeon: busy tonight, Y/N. lol, just summon a demon or smth.

yuri: lmao that ouija board is still there right? I think we left it under your bed

chaeyeon: I don’t think you summon demons with a ouija board, yuri

y/n: ugh you guys are no help. brb, summoning demon...

You realized how weird this conversation would sound from an outside perspective, but it was a sort of inside joke you had within your friend group. You and your friends had joked about ‘summoning a demon’ before, and you’d even used a Oujia board a few times and done fake seances to freak each other out. The results were always disappointing—not that you ever actually wanted to contact the dead or anything, but you were at least hoping for a spooky story or something you could tell.

You knew they were joking around, but your brain felt a little delirious from all the math churning it into mush.

You switched tabs from your test, typing in the search bar “how to summon a demon”. You chuckled a little under your breath at the ridiculousness. But at least then you could tell your friends you actually tried. They’d get a kick out of that.

You followed a few rabbit holes down some forums, mockingly reciting strings of incomprehensible Latin. If you were gonna do this, you were gonna commit fully.

“You called?”

You scrambled backwards, nearly jumping a foot off the bed at the sudden unfamiliar voice echoing in the room.

Then you saw him.

He was perched on your bookshelf, one leg dangling lackadaisically over the edge, the other folded up at his side. You caught a glimpse of his piercing crimson-red eyes illuminated in the dim candle-lit room. He looked particularly cat-like in his position, a devilish grin painted on his face, what looked like fangs coming to two sharp points in his mouth.

The man picked up a pen from your bookshelf, twirling it in his hand casually with playful twists of his fingers. “You’re new…” he mused, glancing at you up and down. “And... cute. Fresh blood. How'd you get my number, hmm?”

You sat stunned, dizzy from confusion. Your words were lodged in your throat, unable to utter a single sound. This had to be a dream, right? Had you fallen asleep while working on your homework? It wouldn't be the first time.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the oak of the bookcase, waiting for your next move. The only words you could manage came out in a hoarse croak, shaky and uncertain. "This—I'm dreaming…"

He shook his head, clicking his tongue tauntingly against his teeth. "Oh, there's a lot of things I could do right now to assure you you aren't," he started, the gleam in his eye particularly sinister as he drew his gaze up and down. "But trust me. You wouldn't want that."

“Who—”

“I have a lot of names, but you can just call me San. Your friendly neighborhood demon.” He flashed a fiendish smirk. “Well, maybe don’t linger too much on the ‘friendly’ part.”

“D—demon?”

“What, you didn’t know? You’re the one who summoned me, darling.” He drew out his words, slowly, carefully, continuing to play with the pen in his fingers. The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, as if he had the power to kill you at any moment. He probably did.

He pressed his palms against the top of the shelf to hoist himself off, the books on it threatening to topple with the sudden movement. The minute he vaulted down from the shelf, you were able to get a better look at him.

The first thing that drew your eye was his impossibly broad shoulders, accentuated by the tight cut of his shirt. It contrasted against his tiny waist, cinched in neatly with a belt. His proportions were unreal, and so very fittingly non-human. He was undoubtedly the most incredible sight you'd ever seen in your life, human or otherwise. He made his way over to the bed where you sat. You snapped your laptop closed, pushing it to the side, your blood turning to ice as he inched closer to you. The way he sauntered across the floor almost seemed like he was floating, like gravity was merely a fun game to him.

He poised himself over you, his powerful stance alone commanding you to look at him. His fingernail dragged under your chin with a distinct sting, pulling your gaze up to his intense eyes. It was cold, like a dull knife, causing your body to tremble slightly. His piercing eye-contact was entrancing, even spell-binding—you couldn't tear your eyes away. "How cute," he teased sing-songily, “you’re a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, still pulled in by his magnetic gaze. “How did you—”

"I can smell one from a mile away. The scent… it's just so…" he paused to lick his lips, drawing his tongue slowly over his black metal lip ring. "delicious."

“Anyway, you must have had a reason to summon me, no? A soul to harvest? A sacrifice maybe?” Something about his tone was giddy at the idea. “At your service, darling.” He drew down in a playful bow, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

You hated to say it, but he was entirely your type. From up close, you could see his other piercings more clearly, several earrings lining both ears, glimmering against the cartilage. His right eyebrow donned a shaved slit, decorated with another piercing. Of course the demon you summoned in your dream would be your ideal man. Well, he kind of looked like the edgy Hot-topic boy of your 7th grade self’s dreams, but you couldn’t deny that was still kind of your type still. His jet-black hair framed the sharp cut of his jaw perfectly—you were sure he could see you practically drooling over him at this point. He looked crafted by heaven—hell?—itself.

Even so, no single part of you desired for him to take your virginity right this second. Maybe under different circumstances, but not with the time ticking down on your math assignment and the fact that he was a fucking demon you just conjured into your room.

You shook your lewd thoughts out of your head, worried for a moment that demons might have some sort of mind-reading powers you weren’t aware of. “Well, uh, actually… I need help with my math homework.”

He snickered, his eyes trained on you like prey. “You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m kind of serious. It’s like 10% of my grade.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth again, breaking eye contact finally, and you felt a sense of relief as you finally had a moment to breathe away from his suffocating glare.“For someone who just summoned a demon you’re a real buzzkill.” He perched himself on the edge of the bed, resting his butt lightly against the edge of the frame. “Fine,” he groaned. “Let’s say I actually helped you. You know how this works, right? If I do something for you, you have to give me something in return.”

You gulped. This was a dream, it had to be, and the best you could do was go along for the ride. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel shaken, despite doing your best to convince yourself it wasn’t real—like some sort of subconscious defense mechanism your body employed in danger. And, well, he kind of seemed like danger. “Like what?”

“Well, normally...” He glanced back over, pinning you down with his gaze once again. “It’d be your soul.”

Your breath stopped in your throat. You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to give up your entire soul for 10% of your math grade, although that was a pretty accurate metaphor for your college experience.

“Your virginity maybe?” he hummed, drawing his tongue back over his lips, then, seeing your expression, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “No? Damn. It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Um… I can offer to make you dinner?”

He paused, his eyes widening for a second, then burst into a cacophony of laughter. It was the first time he broke his exterior, and for a moment, he looked a bit more human. “I’ll take it.” Then, more “but you realize a contract with a demon is binding, right?”

“So, I’m contractually obligated to make you dinner, that’s what you’re saying?”

He paused, his smile turning amused once more. “Feisty. I like you,” he winked flirtatiously, sending heat rising in your cheeks. You hated to say it, but he was devilishly charming, on top of being probably the hottest being, human or not, you’d ever seen.

You glanced at your phone, noting the time ticking down slowly but surely. “Okay, I’m not joking. The math. My assignment is due in 45 minutes.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

He sat next to your side on the bed for a while, guiding you through the problems like some sort of hot e-boy math tutor. Not that you were complaining about that. The way he sat was surprisingly cute, one leg tucked up at his side, the other folded underneath him.

“Where’d you learn math, anyway?” you asked, admiring his immaculate side profile as his eyes trained on the laptop screen, typing the answers in. “They have like, demon school or something?”

He gave you a side glance, and you once again felt uneasy under the heat of his gaze. “A demon never reveals his secrets.”

“I thought that was a magician.”

He visibly stifled a laugh, pressing his lips tightly to avoid giving you the satisfaction of breaking his serious exterior. “Can you be quiet? I’m focusing. I’m a demon, not a mathematician. This is way out of my scope of work,” he grumbled through his teeth.

You watched him silently as he worked. As he typed, his tongue lingered just outside his parted lips in concentration. “Even you sitting next to me is distracting,” he hissed quietly. “You don’t realize what your scent is doing to me right now.”

Right. Your virgin scent. Was that really so appealing to him?

“Fine. I guess I’ll go make dinner. You promise you’re gonna turn this in in time?”

“I’m contractually obligated,” he responded dryly.

You hoisted yourself off the bed and headed to the kitchen to make dinner, but something about leaving a stranger in your room felt strange. No stranger than accepting he was a demon, though, you supposed.

You returned with a large plate of pasta, pretty much the only thing you had on hand. He received it apprehensively from you.

“What?” you asked, offended at his look of disgust. “Sorry, I didn’t have any fresh human souls on hand. My bad.”

You sat across from him on the bed, watching in fascination as he nibbled slowly at the thin spaghetti noodles. “You have any hot sauce or anything?” he asked, wincing as he took a few more bites.

“I barely had enough pasta to feed two people. I’m a broke college student. Anyway, I never forced you to accept the dinner offer.”

“I didn’t think it’d be so bland. What, you didn’t know demons prefer spicy food?”

“I didn’t know demons existed until today. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. This is all a dream I’m going to wake up from in a bit anyway.”

A wicked smirk danced up on his lips again. “Oh, you still think it’s a dream? Cute,” he sang condescendingly. “Well, then I guess it wouldn’t matter if I did this...”

Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as he crawled forward on his palms. You felt his breath linger on your neck first, then the gentle scrape of his pointed canines against your sensitive skin. Every hair on your body stood up. He pressed them down slightly, just enough to feel the tension on your flesh. Then he bit harder, nearly piercing as he sunk them in.

You reeled back, shoving him off you breathlessly. “What the fuck-”

“You still think it’s a dream? Then it wouldn’t matter if it sunk my teeth in. You’d just wake up, right? Isn’t that how dreams are supposed to work?” he taunted, a smile curled up on his lip. His fangs gleamed under the still-dim light of your bedroom. “Humans are so amusing,”

You wiped at your neck, rubbing circles where his teeth pinched your skin. He sat himself upright again and stood up from the bed. “Well, my end of the deal is over. Consider you released from your contract.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Well I’m not gonna stay here.” His hand came up to his ear like a phone. “Call me if you have a soul to harvest. You know my number.”

He was gone before you could blink, like an apparition, disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared. Your eyelids grew heavier as you reflected what had just happened, and you wondered what would happen if you fell asleep in a dream. Would you just wake up?

You collapsed into bed, still unsure whether or not the past few hours had actually happened or not. Part of you hoped they had—there was something about him that was so deeply captivating, you would do anything to see him again.

As he said, you did have his ‘number’.

You woke up dazed, still unsure if you had dreamt the events of the night before. The only sure way to know was to check your assignment—if you had really fallen asleep while doing your homework, you wouldn’t have turned the assignment in, right?

You opened your online class page, scanning for the assignment, and there it was, in bold letters:

Submitted: 98%.

Your breath caught in your throat. You felt two distinct emotions: relief that you got the assignment turned in, and complete disbelief that your encounter last night was not part of your imagination.

You could summon him again.

He seemed about as harmless as a demon could seem. At first, he had been entirely intimating—his aura made it seem like he could have eaten your soul right there with no second thoughts. But watching that powerful being, capable of so much evil and chaos, do something as mundane as your math homework… that was the most entertaining, and almost adorable thing, you’d ever witnessed.

Besides, you had something he desired, something you could dangle in front of him to keep him coming back. You had your virginity, which seemed to be the ultimate prize for a demon like him. The way he had talked about it last night, it seemed you were irresistible for him. But he also accepted your rejection so easily.

As long as you kept drafting up meaningless contracts, he had to oblige, right? You weren’t sure exactly how it worked, but that’s how it seemed from your interactions last night. If it worked like you thought it did, his job as a demon was to make a contract with his summoner, no matter how insignificant, as long as he takes something in return.

That night, you read the same latin phrase you had before he’d appeared, this time off a sticky note push-pinned in your wall.

You heard him again before you saw him, and you whipped your head around to see where he was standing behind you.

He wore the same playful, devilish smirk, displaying his fangs. “Hmm, you decided to let me harvest your soul now, have you? That was quick.”

It had barely been 24 hours, and yet you’d already forgotten how incredibly hot he was, for lack of a better word. Your lips parted slightly in awe, forgetting for a second to formulate a response.

“I hope your silence is a yes,” he interrupted.

You shook your attraction to him out of your head for a moment, remembering what you brought him here for. “I want you to clean my bathroom.”

He laughed in disbelief, plopping himself down on the bed. “I’m sorry, you want me to what?”

“That’s how this works right? I summon you and do what I want. And I give you something in return.” You leaned against the desk behind you.

“What am I, your errand boy?”

“But that is how this works, right?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. “Yes,” he grumbled reluctantly. “But what do I get this time?”

“I cook you dinner again.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“I’ll let you bite my neck. Draw blood if you want.”

His eyes widened at your proposal. His reaction confirmed your suspicion—the blood of a virgin must be like crack to a demon like him. His face went flush. “Deal,” he confirmed eagerly.

You watched him as he cleaned, and there was something satisfying about watching this bloodthirsty demon scrubbing the bathtub on his hands and knees. He almost looked a bit pathetic. You stood in the door frame, unable to help from grinning at making him perform such menial tasks. A lot more was at stake now than just dinner, so you might as well have some fun with his end of the bargain. Even on his knees, you couldn’t help but watch him in awe. Every part of him was sculpted immaculately—his appearance was distinctly human, and yet he was in all other ways otherworldly.

“I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to some human’s lowly errand boy,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Less talking, more scrubbing,” you demanded with a smirk, and he shot you a deathly glare.

You followed through with your promise of dinner, and this time you came prepared with hot sauce. He devoured it eagerly, and you felt proud for making a dinner worthy of a demon’s praise.

But there was still one more promise you had to follow through on, and the thought made your head spin.

He sat across from you on the bed, eyes trained on your neck in a very un-subtle display of desire. You’d never felt so wanted, even if it was just the thought of your virgin blood that had him practically drooling.

“You sure about this?” he asked hesitantly. It was strange that he was even asking permission, as he seemed so eager the other night to just sink his teeth right into you.

“I’m contractually obligated,” you teased dryly. Then, more seriously, “But yes, I am.”

He placed his left hand on your neck, steadying it in place. His fierce, almost predatory gaze washed over you completely.

He leaned forward, parting his lips to drag his teeth gently along your neck. You tipped your head back, giving him a better angle. He teased there for a while, lingering his sharp canines on your skin. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, the warmth of it sending chills rocketing down your spine. Your lips parted slightly, gentle moans escaping at the sensation. The situation was predatory, and yet it felt completely sensual in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

He paused for a moment, lips fluttering over your skin as he spoke. “You have no idea how hard it is not to completely drain you,” he whispered, voice dripping off his tongue with a sort of lustful hunger. “I promise I’ll only take a bit.”

He sunk down, and you heard it before you felt it—the distinct sound of teeth piercing flesh. You cried out a bit, bringing your own hand to your mouth to muffle your whines. It stung a bit, but in a twisted way, there was something about it you liked. You felt his tongue draw over your wound slowly, lapping deliberately at the fresh blood like a starved animal.

He moaned against you, and it echoed in your ear like the most divine sound you’ve ever heard. He may have been a demon, but his noises sounded like they came from heaven itself. He pulled your waist against his as he slowly bathed his tongue over the punctured flesh, his fingers squeezing as he grasped at your waist. He littered a few faint kisses across your blood-stained skin, moving slightly down towards your shoulder blades. The sudden sensation drew soft, pleasured moans from your lips.

As he finally pulled away, parting his lips tenderly away from your skin, you caught the faintest glimmer of his blacked-out eyes before they flickered back to normal. His deep red irises sparkled like rubies as he maintained eye contact. He brought one of his hands up from your waist, gently wiping at his blood-stained lips with the back of his palm. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself for a second. Your skin tastes so sweet, like candy,” he praised softly, voice deep and wanting. “And your blood, fuck—it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

The seductive gleam in his eye signaled that you had awoken something in him, something you hadn’t meant to. He was still holding you, probably without even noticing, but you didn't want to draw his attention to it quite yet. You wanted to experience it for just a bit longer if you could. Something about the way he held your waist against his made you crave more of him.

Almost as if a switch flipped, his expression went dark, his fingernails suddenly digging all the way into your waist. You yelped in pain as he nearly punctured the skin through your clothes. “I need you to walk away from me right now. Before I do something I’ll regret,” he growled. You watched as his eyes flashed to the same demonic black for a moment.

You gulped, slowly backing yourself away from him, scrambling off the bed. "Farther," he groaned painfully, his breathing becoming heavy and labored. His hands clenched at the blanket on the bed, balling into restrained fists. "Now."

You ran from the room, your feet moving before you even knew where they were taking you. You ran all the way down the hallway to the front door, sliding your back down against it as you collapsed to the floor. Your limbs shook weakly, trying to calm yourself down. You must have sat there for an hour or more, completely frozen, not quite aware of the passing of time. You wiped the blood of your neck, but it didn't do much, smearing it across.

When you managed to finally stand up again, you made your way hesitantly towards the door of the bedroom, swinging your head around the doorframe first.

"San…?" you called apprehensively.

But he was gone, leaving only a light imprint on the sheets of the blood-stained bed and two deep punctures in your neck to remind you he was ever there.

[to be continued]

#san smut #choi san smut #yunho smut #ateez smut #san fanfic #ateez fanfic #hongjoong smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfiction

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ashenburst · 4 years

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Sedatives, Boo

Fugo-centric story, 3805 words. This would be an analysis of sorts, represented through a numbing spiral he shoved himself into - where I try to flesh out his wonderful self.

Fugo is an amazing character, and underappreciating him is one of the many sins of this fandom. The layers! The depth! The sheer tragedy that he is! I’ve seen so many people hate on him for doing the thing and disregard every single aspect of his character, which is ridiculous. Unfair, even.

So here you have it, an homage to this genius and his many faults.

When Fugo came home, it was late night. Luckily, he brought the umbrella with him – otherwise he would've been drenched. It was pouring.

He opened it once again and left it to dry overnight. The downpour was unusually strong for that time of the year. He wondered how was Narancia doing on his mission. Hopefully, him, Mista and Leone found a proper place to stay. Bruno would make sure of it.

His brows furrowed as an unordinary sound reached his ears. Surely, the rain was persistent, but he reckoned it wasn't usually that loud. This was no good sign. He must've left the window open. He quickly took off his shoes and went to the source of the noise – the kitchen. Therein, he found his mind stammering at the scene yet to be processed.

Rain and moonlight both drizzled through the window, landing onto the counter and everything on there, then trickling down to the tiles with a patter. Above, Fugo spotted, were some spoon and a notebook, whose tainted cover he immediately recognized. The realization was horrifying. Curses filled the room.

He bolted towards the counter, grabbing and gripping its edges with desperation. Underneath him, he saw ink melting over the drenched papers. Words and numbers, gone. All of the exercises he prepared for Narancia – ruined.

So much precious time he'd wasted. Due to his negligence, irresponsibility – everything he'd been carefully collecting, devising, marking and creating just for Narancia, became useless, utterly worthless, expendable not once. All because of him and his own mistake.

Narancia relied so much on him. Despite his reluctance to work at times, despite his occasionally... underwhelming results, Fugo knew that Narancia yearned to succeed. To reach that goal, Fugo was supposed to be Narancia's sure leverage – and this... this wasn't the leverage he should've represented.

His disappointment was accompanied by a sorry groan. It was him, it was his fault that all of this work was lead to ruin. He should've known better, he knew there would be rain in the evening – so why leave the window open? Why leave a whole goddamn book on the kitchen counter? None of it made sense, was he truly that dumb? Wasn't he?

Hours of hard work washed away in a single instant. For no other reason than him, and what? A stupid, very human error, that he shouldn't be producing. That costed him so much. That can cost him even more – how was he so inconsiderate?

This could cost him his own life. The lives of others. The fact he was so ignorant. These mistakes – seen and ignored by him – could lead into demise. So much demise.

No. He would not allow it. He would not allow it –

All the indecent tremors, all the disgust they brought along, they were taking over him, wreaking havoc across his flimsy, molested nerves. No longer was Fugo himself.

He was led to stomp and to growl, saliva gathering in his mouth as guttural sounds were spat. Tense fists atop trembling rods of his arms shook as if the wind blew them violently; an external force took over.

His mind was enslaved in a body he could not control. Stuck in a frame so small and fragile, thoughts were assimilating into each other, gushing over his perception and spilling a familiar red over it.

Adrenaline-abused bloodstream pumped with a forceful pulse and he hyperventilated. With wide eyes, his crimson darkness shifted, and he spotted an unwelcome sight. The bile that seeped around him was not his.

Resolve followed immediately. He stepped backwards, screwed his eyes shut, and placed a hand on his throbbing forehead. Pain arrived in thuds, gradating from a low to a high, then devolved. As if nothing happened, clarity was back in his skull, and he found himself gazing clearly at the moonlit surfaces before him.

He'd use this vehemence. With no second thought, he smashed the window back in its place - the glass did not crack, but reverberated as a warning. He grabbed the mush of papers and threw it into the trash. Where it belonged, he thought with bitter sarcasm. Now, what else but to stay up all night and pay the price for the misdeed?

The one rag in his vicinity was used to wipe the water. While switching between wiping and twisting the cloth above the sink, he calculated how much time he'd need to finish everything. He had Math exercises and some "exams" planned in that makeshift book of his, arranged in a manner he still freshly remembered. At the beginning, addition, then subtraction, then... gradually more complex examples, yes, he knew exactly what he prepared for Narancia. Then some questions from History, Geography, Biology... that'd mean, less thinking... making it...

Two to three hours? He was willing to get it done.

Although many people, including Fugo, had witnessed teachers wrongly use their position, Fugo would never allow himself the comfort of being an imperfect authority to Narancia. Minor human flaws were present, they had to be present, but he firmly believed that if he kept this job – and chose to do it – then at least his responsibility would be fulfilled. If he were true to it, then Narancia too would be more considerate. He was a good person after all.

Getting on his knees, Fugo wiped the water that accumulated on the floor as well. There wasn't much of it, luckily, his socks didn't get too wet. The last time he cleaned something on the floor like this, Narancia told him he was like Cinderella, which made Fugo throw the wet rag at him. The memory made the boy chuckle quietly.

With that done, Fugo was unsure what to do with the rag. So he simply went to the bathroom and threw it with the rest of the "dirty" clothes... which were mostly Fugo's, he realized and huffed. He made a mental note to tell Narancia to clean his room for once.

He went back to the living room. He'd left the light on, so he strolled straight to the cupboard where notebooks and pencils and whatnot were kept. Narancia would occasionally lose them (intentionally or not) so Fugo simply had to keep a reasonable stock of material. He took the first notebook on the pile, closed the cupboard and flinched at the thud it made.

The buzzing of the lightbulb above him accompanied his preparations. He took a pen to write with it, following his old logic – what if Narancia erased and changed the exercise? That sly boy. Fugo couldn't help but smile.

He fluttered the notebook open. Papers smelled of stale schoolwork and repugnant memories.

Blind defiance guided his pen to write more and more. Tasks meant for Narancia. Tasks that were imbued with even harsher of a perfectionism. His handwriting began inconsistently, the proportions among letters and numbers were diminishing. He was only three rows in when the tip of his pen ruptured the paper. With an aggravated sigh, he ripped it and threw it somewhere behind him. This was going to be a long night.

Tranquillity was a must. He took a moment to breathe, relax. He let go of the pen, and it landed on the table, threatening to roll off its surface. Fugo quickly positioned it so that it wouldn't. Slouching himself in the chair, he let out yet another loud exhale. Something was off.

His neck was craned in different directions to relieve him of at least a little bit of tension. He swung his head backwards, staring at the light above him through lids almost shut. It wasn't that he was tired, he knew. He just needed to get something to gather his loose focus.

This is why he stood up and dragged himself back to the kitchen. There, he found something they never ran out of – coffee. Narancia didn't drink it, meaning it was under Fugo's meticulous surveillance, and he'd always, always make sure there's enough of it.

He took the nearest cup to him, filled it with water, then motioned himself towards the stove. Wrong move. He blinked to clarify both his vision and his thoughts.

Then he placed the said cup into the microwave and pressed the button multiple times, each tap voicing a boring bleep. The acoustic vibrations of the machine began, and to that monotone tune, Fugo chose to numb himself. He leaned his shoulder against the cold wall, and shivered. The holes in his outfit made sure of it.

He stared ahead into the dim light of the microwave. There had always been something reassuring in solitude, where he relied on himself and his abilities to get the job done. There was nobody to disturb him, which was a pleasant addition.

Some time ago, before his incident, he found these little nightly intervals to be wonderful. When his parents were asleep, when he was on his own, stuck in the dangerous silence with his thoughts and beat-up imagination – those were the times when he'd keep his eyes open, just to stare ahead, be on his own and relish in the escapism.

And sometimes, he'd study in the nighttime as well. Other students would believe that he could read and immediately memorize; this was, surprisingly, mostly true. However, the fact remained that he had to read in order to learn. This would consume time, occasionally reaching the evening, even the night – and studying was something Fugo's parents always approved of.

But no matter the situation, the ever-rare peace was present. He loved it, back then. The present wasn't different at all.

His gaze heavy, he watched the endless rotations of the cup. It was hypnotizing, to say the least. For more than a moment, his brain was blissfully empty, drained of a single coherent line, a single sensible notion. His calm was ushered after the storm – with crossed arms, he vowed to keep it. He allowed his sight to turn black. Ragged was his breathing. What for?

All of a sudden, he was startled. The alarming tones of the microwave informed him that the heating was done. He hurriedly took the cup and finished up the brewing. After debating the decision, he shrugged and added sugar.

The smell soothed him. He gathered this mild delight and brought it to the table with him. Finally, he sat down, took a sip and began.

Writing those tasks, he once again hoped he wouldn't exactly botch Narancia with the criteria. The boy wanted to go back to school after such a long period, so he'd have to work hard to catch up. Fugo had no choice but to introduce him to the material realistically.

His hand was moving automatically at some point. Meaningless reminiscence halted it every now and then, daring him to venture deeper into his school memories. To that, he shook his head, and continued scribbling.

Funnily, almost every question he'd written – for example, to describe Julius Caesar – reflected itself in Fugo's own past, wherein he too once studied about Caesar. A fine line connected the past and the present, so sublime that Fugo was unable to cut it. Excellent memory and an impeccable mind to connect whatnot were a double-edged sword, and Fugo was its victim.

His chin on his hand, he just pretended he ignored the nostalgia. He had never known how to handle these feelings; it was the worst roundabout in his development. There was much he could learn and much he could understand, and yet...

What is the name of the strait that connects Europe and Europe? Did he actually write that? He huffed and corrected the question. There were some things he just couldn't control.

Getting done with Geography, Fugo believed that was all. With the final ounces of his focus, his gaze skimmed over the neatly written pages. Indeed, it was over with. He was on the verge of glee.

To reward himself, he took a sip from his coffee. Once he stared down at the beverage, he noticed something odd. He hadn't finished even a half of it. He was that focused on work. With a hum, he acknowledged that fact, and put down the cup. He closed the notebook with undeniable satisfaction and lastly, stretched. It felt as if the entirety of his spine, his shoulders too, were suddenly relieved.

With the remainder of the night free, he had so much to do – and he only wanted to sleep. Which... he debated if that were possible.

He stood up, cup in his hand, and went to the kitchen to put it into the sink. It clinked against the other dirty dishes. The sight wasn't pleasant, but he was in no state to wash them. That was a problem for a future him.

He sank his face in his hands. Dreary thoughts roamed about his consciousness. He just wanted to sleep. In a sluggish movement, he flipped the switch and let his hand slide down the wall. Having abandoned the darkness, he stepped outside the kitchen and went past the table where the notebook was left. He spared one glance at it, then almost slipped.

Alarmed, he looked down, only to notice he'd stepped on the paper he had thrown. He took it, crumpled and threw it, and at last proceeded to get ready for the bathroom.

He took a very needed shower. This seemed to ease him. Thoughts were clarified, head turned lighter, and body a little more alive. Brushing his teeth afterwards went by in a haze – he didn't even look at himself in the mirror.

And yet, once the humid air of his bedroom raised goosebumps all over his skin, he was sure he wouldn't sleep. He closed the window that too remained open for some reason, then checked if the rain entered the room. Fortunately, only a couple of droplets were there. So he freely threw himself onto the cushion, dangled himself in the white, thin sheets. What mattered was that he had his socks on.

He was burrowed in that sole yearning to sleep. Foreign influences prevented it, however – the reminiscence that was long tumbling in his brain, the newfound tension across his body; low huffs of his overworked head would not settle anytime soon. Only time would tell.

Time, indeed, passed, and changes did occur. Discomfort was creeping up to him. He turned in the bed, changing his poses, uncovering himself, even moving the pillow. The night was slowly getting wasted. Annoyance arose in Fugo.

If he could only beat the troublesome feeling inside his chest, everything would've been fine. But he could not get rid of it – it was caving in on his mood, his mind, painting his whole cognizance a shade darker. Yet somehow, once he reopened his eyes, the night seemed lighter.

He shifted himself and groaned into the pillow. Why? Why couldn't he sleep?

This was such a rare thing to happen. He never had problems falling asleep, but now... now he was swallowed by the nuisance. He was completely and utterly at its disposal.

Uncertainties like this unsettled him deeply. He was unsure what to do next – how to will himself to sleep, how to get back to his senses? He felt lost. It was never a physiological trait for him. No geographical pointer could establish it, no unit could determine it.

It was a state he couldn't assert through introspective. Not due to the inaccuracy of the method, but naturally, due to the very simple fact that he was not aware of his disposition. No recognition of it meant no problem as well, but its effects could be seen all over his life. Fundamental they were to his existence, something so deeply intertwined with his soul that he knew of no condition other than the one he'd been in, and hadn't been found in.

But he was aware of it. Caught this odd sensation of void in his chest. Was the gaping hole a wound?

He stretched his neck once again, and positioned himself a bit unnaturally in the bed. He shouldn't have allowed himself to stay up this late. Much like any ordinary man, his thoughts were prone to spiraling downwards, rather than being uplifting. But he dealt with them well, the same way he'd be capable of controlling his rage from time to time. He had so much knowledge to debate with those sensible matters, after all.

Like... when he took interest in Nietzschean abolishments and praises to free will. Amor fati, the love of fate as Nietzsche called it, was one of the terms he'd learned to recognize. There was a sort of optimism to that nihilism, for it dictated that fate must be accepted and life, as a whole, grasped – without rejecting any of it, while keeping a will to live. It was a simple concept, and a stray one.

Sometimes he'd run to such concepts, sometimes he'd reject them. It was a habit of his imprisoned self, a form of intellectual getaway. During exams or quizzes, he spilled this knowledge with either hatred or love. This depended solely on his mood.

His current mood, however... it wasn't exactly the best, but he recognized its fallacy and sought to lull it. He had to sleep. He didn't want to be grumpy tomorrow. But how to reach that? His eyes were wide open, mind coherent; caffeine still had some effect, albeit faint. Probably. Perhaps the shower woke him up. It shouldn't have been so cold.

Something caught his attention. There were drops on the chair by the bed. He spread his arm to reach them, and was guided by the late night's Moon. The contrast was of the light uncanny, the whim too, and yet he had it done.

One hand to feel the cold water. Swat it away, watch it disperse in soggy details. These little beauties were once invisible to him. He never got the opportunity to experience life and enjoy it rightfully, although he'd studied many aspects of it. But every now and then, he'd be rewarded. Living on the streets had given him enough time to both observe and think, and among poverty and injustice, he found so many things to look forward to.

The chirping of some bird? A mother helping her child? Small enjoyments that were not his, and yet, fulfilled him. Kicked him to yet another bright day, split yet another night.

Likewise, an intellect as fine as his could fixate at the most usual of scenes. It was the oddities of the everyday that would sometimes spark the warmest of feelings inside of him. Just like now, this moment, wherein the chill under his fingertips cooled his nerves. His nostrils full of crisp, moist air. His eyes exhausted, healing with the soft darkness. He was at peace.

An agonizing sound ruined it all. He groaned, surprise striking his heart and shaking his fatigued frame. One of the neighbors did something, whatever, probably moved their furniture at this hour – why would they do that? Why would anyone move their furniture at... Fugo looked at his watch. At 5 AM.

His heartbeat sprung to a new high and he growled at the rude, absolutely nonsensical behavior. He shot an spiteful gaze towards the ceiling. That was all. He wasn't capable of anything else.

His eyes were closed, his fingers clenched around the pale sheets. Again, that anger, that unbelievable anger... his damnation and salvation. There was no room in the world for problems like his. Nobody would understand, and not even he would approve.

Then would he ever be satisfied with filling the niche? He knew that the given state of affairs wasn't ideal. And yet, to become a scholar and work on the other side of the coin, the equally dirty flipside, whose only difference was that in the layout of incisions? He didn't deserve much of a change, and he never truly cared. He acknowledged one fact after another, knowing that the "what-ifs" in his past weren't much better.

But the apparent waste of abilities he possessed was somewhat of a disappointment. He could've helped shape the world, although he never had the ambition to. He just... felt it was a shame, sometimes.

He could've been the next Einstein, and his parents were keen on making him one, by forcing him down the path exact opposite to that of Einstein's. That's what he realized once, and now, out of all times, remembered?

"I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious," Mista read out loud. "That's what Einstein said."

He eyed everyone present at the table, only to be met with little to no interest. "Okay, easy for him to say, that dude was insanely intelligent," he added. Narancia's chuckle was heard.

"It was proven that his brain aged slower than that of a normal human. That's the key to his brilliance," Fugo pointed out, not batting an eye.

"Only his brain?"

"Yeah."

Mista raised a brow. "How can one body part age slower than the others?"

"Neurons have different repairing mechanisms when compared to other cells."

"Hm. That would make sense." Satisfied with Fugo's response, Mista continued reading his book. In the meantime, Fugo's own mind worked in a frame very different to that of Mista's. He thought of death.

So, you see potential? The intelligence should be exploited, no? Train it, then, you would think. Push the child to garner knowledge, and it will break one way or another. That's something Fugo's parents failed to comprehend.

It was a mistake? It was. But they killed the child.

As Fugo already knew, making it an addition to Einstein's statement, knowledge can be sustained by all. What wasn't often the case, however, was using and applying that knowledge, and primarily, understanding it. Fugo had no problem with that.

He trusted his head to maintain sanity and sensible notions. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he maintained a solid mindset, and that his mental abilities were high. They were of some use after all. The fact he mattered... it was nice.

What Fugo had a problem with, was, however... what?

He reopened his eye. That chair.

Why was it even there?

He never sat on it. Who sat on it?

Such a waste.

All the knowledge that wouldn't be used. All the abilities that were thrown away. All the chairs without their Thinkers to arch their aching spines, and merely sit and ponder – and all the chairs without children to rest on them.

Fugo once more spread his hand towards that solitary decoration in his room. Why did he even keep it there, if he never used it...? Wonderment reserved for gentler souls. And his hand turned lax, he let it hang from the bedside. The last he'd seen before falling asleep was that stupid chair.

#fugo #pannacotta fugo #fugo pannacotta #jojo #jjba #fugo oneshot #vento aureo #vento aureo headcanon #fugo headcanon #fugo headcanons #jjba part 5 #jojo's bizarre adventure #ooh psychological stuff oooh fancy

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at-the-exd-of-everythixg · 4 years

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Baby Boom

@blind-mutant here we go!! For anyone else who reads this, this is uhhh an au??? Based off a fic I wrote for Devin's birthday in which Rhys lives a happy life with Wulf, Sal, Pascal, Lace, Mahogany and Dae! They also have a ton of babies (the carrier for all of these is Mahogany, they're still trying to get Sal to have a baby for them to coddle during all this) and here are some headcanons (tho core details like appearance, names, powers aren't decided since I want it to be a duo thing to share).

Malf (Wulf x Mahogany)

Oldest baby since Wulf is incredibly fertile

Big baby. Mahogany had quite a few worried boys around them when they got close to their due date and Baby themself got Mahogany exhausted.

So for the first few weeks it was the boys mostly taking care of Baby while Mahogany rested.

Spent the past six months being carried by Wulf before the last month was spent with only Dae being allowed to go near because he doesn't smell of much. Mahogany could only stand him and it made Dae cry every time.

Ate a LOT of meat since they were already the size of a one year old despite Mahogany being carrying for six months.

Screamed any time they were left alone and thus someone had to be in the room with them or holding them.

Even without powers,,,,ridiculously strong,,,dragged a chair with Sal still sitting on it and they were only a year and a half.

Angwy lil bab when the twins were born. Father crew had to keep an eye on them because Pascal launched out of bed one morning (throwing Rhys across the bed by accident) and caught Baby dragging the twins out to the woods,,,and then spent another hour holding a wailing Baby over it.

Wild Child. The kid who screams "FA!" and comes running in with a snake they found before announcing that they were bitten excitedly.

Wants stories all the time and everything they get told depends with "That's not what Auntie Edith/Uncle Mordecai says!"

Had very weird body proportions where they're skinny look but has big ass hands and feet,,,,like Michael from tma.

Stomps everywhere.

Ridiculously tall when grown. Gets yelled at by Rhys or Sal and they have to squat to be at eye level.

Kinda neurotic about keeping packs together and self obessed idea of being the next Alpha. Starts a few fights with Mahogany that leaves them both scarred, much to the worry of everyone else.

Rhogal (Rhys x Mahogany/x Pascal?)

Mahogany got pregnant when Wulf Baby was two.

No one knew who's this one was and automatically assumed Rhys because pale and one was blind.

But then Lace openly wondered if they worked like a cat and could have multiple fathers and then doubts settled in.

Did not help that Baby Two would start giggling ominously before something bad happned.

Anyway, easier birth! Less stress and less muching if you don't include Wulf Baby's attempts at getting rid of them.

Smol, got carried around by Rhys a lot and could fit into Wulf's palms which made some knees weak.

Generally didn't seem much trouble at first but then it Began.

Pls Baby One, let go of the spoon, I swear you'll get more meat mush in a second- oh my god where did Baby Two go????

Lots of rushing around looking for Satan before Baby Two would just calmly pad in with a dead dove or napping in Alpha's hair.

Twins need to hold AT LEAST a body part of someone. Sal's hands?? Wulf's hair??? Rhys's feet when asleep??? It'll do. Especially if it makes Papa Rhys scream funny.

Sal shows them the shining twins and still getting punished for it to this day I hear.

Asks a lot of questions that seem emotional and gut punching. Baby One asks Wulf if they're monsters when being tucked into bed, Baby Two cheerfully asks Dae what's gonna happen if he dies at the family breakfast.

Absolutely ride or die and everyone and no one knows if they can change sizes because no one sees them as adults together strangely enough.

Rarely fights but when they do??? Oh its BIG. To the point where Mahogany has to pull a big scary move that makes everyone step back.

One twin is so gross like, Lilo licking Nani level, but no one knows until it's too late.

Scared of fires but urge to arson is terribly strong in these babies.

Wulf Baby hated them and then it got worse because you had two tiny terrors annoying and bullying Wulf Baby lowkey for months.

Lagni (Lace x Mahogany)

Wulf Baby is 4, the twins are 2 and Lace Baby is a wee bab!

Dad Squad is getting to be experienced, knows to set up a den in the bedroom, only Dae and babies can go near them in the last month and Wulf Baby is VERY proud of being able to play at Alpha and look after their carrier.

Lace Baby was....surprisingly normal at first and ok no one expected that but no one was going to argue since they all knew how powerful Lace was when off his meds.

Things were fine! But then a few weeks and,,,,Mahogany was sweating and Sal wouldn't stop bleeding and being sick and Rhys got surrounded by his shadows and isolated. Lace cried later that night.

Still! They got around it and Carter helped out by telling the government that he had a second child and they got some medication for Lace Baby to have in order to calm them down, at least until they could be taught some control.

Quiet but....weirdly attentive?? A month old and yet nodded when asked questions. Prodigy baby, Wulf says proudly.

Likes sitting near their fathers and getting hobbies. Lace was strict in telling Rhys he wasn't allowed to scare people and luckily Lace Baby just picked up music from him.

Likes brawling with Wulf Baby and is seemingly durable so more than once Pascal has yelled because Wulf Baby tossed a giggling Lace Baby across the room with one hand.

Addicted to hanging out with cousin Logan to the point where they have been a bit rude and blown off their own siblings. Got a big fight about it that ended up with Baby One sulking with their head in Rhys's lap and sniffling.

Wants to move out but not in a bad way just....wants to study and learn about what they are, what their PACK is. Begs Uncle Abara to teach them demon stuff.

Accent changes with who they speak to. Has a stutter with Dae before switching to rough Irish when begging to go hunting.

Likes to stray from family but the slightest thing that upsets them?? Comes home sobbing to their parents, half of which only teach their shoulders now.

Cried easily? Medication made them have swings and some time Rhys said something and they cried and he still feels bad about it years later. Wulf is confused because all Rhys said was that they can't take a sword to school.

Likes making charts and playing games that Dae.

Burns themself out a lot and that causes worry for the family when they're eight and suddenly passing out after chasing after Mahogany.

Secretly keeps and cuddles a sweater from one of the parents and sleeps with it. Mortified if anyone found out about their blankie.

Mahl (Sal x Mahogany)

Wulf Baby is 5, the twins are 3 and Lace Baby is 1!

No one actually knew this time Mahogany was pregnant because the bump was so small and they weren't eating as much. Really, Mahogany started craving sweeter stuff and ate sap and honey for 6 months instead of meat.

Therefore, this is the one baby Mahogany finally got to have in the middle of nowhere and came back with late afternoon. Sal passed out immediately.

S m o l. Literally kitten sized. But had a perfect affinity for sound and therefore had the horrifying gift for copying voices. More than once they were woken up to Sal Baby screaming like an adult man and one time they woke up to Pascal's own voice screaming back at him.

Suckles a lot and this was cute until they grew teeth Mahogany has sharp teeth, Sal has blocky teeth. Baby has jagged teeth. Also the only baby who didn't eat meat but rather drank honey for months on end before finally eating meat.

Everyone thought Sal hated them because he never spoke to them until he finally sighed after a crying session and ruffled their hair and called Baby "Snuffle-Truffles". Wulf cried.

Didn't move for ages until Rhys didn't hold them one day after everyone ELSE did and Sal Baby finally got up and passed after him for their daily shadow dad cuddles.

Smol but f a s t. Scaled a wall in less than a minute and the wall was high enough that it takes about three minutes to hurry if you aren't a giant noodle who can litreally climb up.

Baby can touch Dae safely and that's because he woke up scremaing when Baby Sal was found suckling on his fingers and was....perfectly fine. There was a lot of crying.

Wants to Dance(Tm) but,,,,clumsy dancer. Has the legs of a chunky chicken wing to baby deer.

Baby of the family and they know it. Has some health issues later and VERY wild physical changes later on in life.

Mahogany is still bothering Sal about carrying a baby or two because they wanna coddle but haha what are the chances of that happening,,,,,:3 :3 >:3

Lace Baby is the teen that dumps their parents and Sal Baby is the teen that is mortified by the amount of baby pictures.

#headcanon #blind-mutant #the living stardust (sal)#the monster of forgotten midnights (mahogany)#he speaks of holy fates (pascal)#riding the wild winds (wulf)#diamond of the rough (dae)#he will set your fears free (lace)#uhhh poly verse?#Big fam verse?#idk yet but tell me what you think and feel free to thow ideas at me!!!#i feel like if Sal did have babies too if would be when Sal Baby is ten or older #when he definitely feels more comfortable and secure about his family and the sheer amount of mother henning that'll come #sksksk cue pack babies rushing home for Sibling Rights

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brieannakeogh · 5 years

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Ambition, Butter, and Wine- Ch 1

Have a WIP since I’m not done with the next chapter of Dog Days. Sorry!

Ambition, Butter, and Wine- Kylo Ren x plus sized reader. Crack! Fic. You’re a new First Order recruit. Trained in the culinary arts at the top schools and they dare make you serve the common folk. What happens when you have the opportunity to serve Lord Ren?

Master List

Warnings: None, just cursing.

Scooping up a heap of bland looking mashed potatoes and plopping it on a metal tray, you idly wondered how you got here. Yes, you had applied for a position in the First Order, it was good benefits and easy hours, but you were a trained chef! They had you as nothing more than a glorified lunch lady. All predone dehydrated foods that took no actual skill to prepare and had less taste than a Wookie’s asshole. Not that you knew from experience, but you’d heard rumors.

Granted it did have all the nutritional daily requirements packed into all the slop, but you were wasting away into practically nothing! Well that wasn't true. Just because all of these people had to eat slop didn't very well mean you had to. After your shift was done you always made you a little something from the ingredients they had for the Order officers.

Maybe it wasn't the most ethical thing to do, but you felt you were owed this. The officers had a different chef that made their food. Someone higher up and who had worked there longer than you. His credentials however were shit. You had trained in one of the best schools in the galaxy. He was just some cook from bumfuck nowhere that got lucky and did his time, paid his dues and all that good garbage.

You sighed heavily as you made the next metal plate ding satisfactory to your ears in your tightly held frustration. You would keep up the meek little act until you got higher in command, then prove yourself when they all shit their pants, metaphorically speaking, at how good your food compares.

The poor trooper that was receiving his spoonful from you, jumped and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead when you started to laugh maniacally under your breath. He went to the nearest trash bin and deposited his uneaten food, than ran out of the galley.

Kylo Ren was in a mood. A particularly bad mood. His breakfast was ruined and during training the ‘dummy’ he was practicing on moved, which made him miss and sever the poor private’s pinky finger. He would have been fine if he had stayed still. Of course Hux didn't like that and went running to Snoke to tattle on him.

A smirk comes over his lips, behind his mask, when he thinks about how Snoke dismissed his concerns. That had been the only positive so far today. Now he was making his way to his quarters, hunger gnawing at him from having forgone breakfast.

He stalks in and sees the tray sitting on the table. It's the same damn thing as breakfast, some weird gray meat, but in a wrap instead of over eggs. Red clouds his vision as the tray melts in half. Now to do the same to the person’s entrails.

Doing the same repetitive motion made you completely bored, so of course you zoned out. You didn't see how people started running out the door when they caught sight of the black being standing in the doorway. Didn't notice when he stalked your way in a murderous rampage. You barely paused when he stopped in front of you with your spoon held, waiting for him to present a tray for you to plop the mush on. Giving an irritated huff you finally look up and stare into the faceless visor of Commander Ren for the first time.

A little bit of the potato slides off the spoon as you stare up at him, slack jawed. It neatly misses his boot and you pull your arm back quickly. One of your supervisors comes up, clearly scared out of her wits to inquire what he needed. As far as you were aware he had never stepped foot into the galley.

“Food.” Was all that she got for her troubles. His head tilted a little toward the direction of the... were they mashed potatoes? You never did ask. Then back to her. “But not this.”

“I don't blame you.” You muttered under breath and you think you saw just the slightest tick of that helmet to you, before you snapped your mouth shut.

“I'm sorry sir, but didn't they already deliver food to you? The chef was very specific when he made it this morning.” She tried. Her voice only shook twice. You were proud of her.

“It is inedible. I require something else.” The robotic voice answered. “Make me something else.”

“Well you see we don't really have anyone that can…”

“I'll do it.” You pipped up, realizing this was your escape. If you did a good enough job, maybe it would bump you up a bit on the branch.

His helmet fully turned to you. While you couldn't see them, you could feel the way his eyes raked over you. There was this saying, never trust a skinny chef, maybe that was the same judgment he came to as he nodded. The one thing you weren't is skinny. The little extra was from too much of your own food, but it was good and you didn't give two shits what others thought.

The dramatic man in black just stood there, seemingly waiting on you, so you turned your back and walked into the kitchen. Solid boots against the floor told you he was at your heels. “So is there something in particular you wanted?” You ask as you root around in the ‘special’ cabinets that held the fresh ingredients.

“Surprise me. If I don't like it you may get a surprise of your own.” His hand hovering over the saber at his hip.

“Guess you didn't eat breakfast either. Looked to be similar to lunch.” Your brain screamed at you to stop provoking him, but you couldn't help it. He seemed all threatening but your guess was he was just hangry.

He only acknowledged your statement with a metallic grunt. At least you think that’s what that noise was.

Pulling ingredients, you check with Mr. Murder Hungry to make sure they are all things he likes, at least raw. He doesn't actually say anything else, but the subtle head movements tell you a lot.

You get going on something that would be quick but good. You have a feeling he will get even more grumpy the longer he waits. Fifteen minutes later and you are plating up a gorgeous piece of meat with a salad and roasted vegetables. Cutting the veggies small made them only take ten minutes in the oven and the rest was no time at all.

Holding out the plate, he doesn't even attempt to take it. He turns on his heel and stalks away, out the kitchen doors and out the galley, you trailing behind. You follow him into what you can only assume as his quarters, where he points to a table to set the plate on.

You do as instructed as he removes his cloak and gloves. Hearing the hiss from his helmet, you don't really want to see what he looks like having heard all sorts of rumors. Instead you turn to leave before a deep, “Wait.” stops you. It's a very pleasant voice when not filtered through the weird mask.

Hearing a clunk, you turn around to see him set the device aside and he sits at the table. Silverware floated into his open palm, because of course he would us the force to summon cutlery. Without the mask, you can see his face, and what a lovely face it is. Everything seems just a tad bit big and exaggerated, but it fits well on his head and is proportional to the rest of his large body.

Your fingers wind together, twisting into each other to almost the point of pain as you watch him bring the first bite to his mouth. This is your make it or break it moment and by it, you mean you and by break, you mean die. Literally you feel like this one meal will determine if you survive or not and honestly, you don’t hate it. The adrenaline rushes through your veins and you can hear your own blood pump in your ears. Now you understand what all the extreme sports people would go on about.

He samples a little bit of everything as you hold your breath. “I expect dinner at 1900 hours. Tomorrow breakfast and lunch will be at 0600 and 1200 respectively. You are dismissed.”

Relief flooded you that he seemed to actually enjoy it, but then the dread settled into the pit of your stomach that you were apparently now the personal chef of Kylo Ren. His tantrums were legendary among the crew, so you couldn’t screw this up. Hesitating just a moment and doing a weird and awkward curtsy/bow, before turning around and exiting his quarters.

As soon as the plump little lunch lady he found exited his room, he gave up his pretense and devoured what was on the plate. It had been fucking ages since he had a decent meal and now that he had confiscated her for himself, he wasn’t sharing.

Next Chapter

Hopefully ya’ll will forgive me for slacking on Dog Days with this. I’ve got a few chapters of it done that I can sprinkle in while I’m trying to finish the other up.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in it or added to my everything tag.

@stevieang, @albinotigerpython, @paintballkid711

#kylo x plus sized reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x plus sized reader #kylo x reader #plus sized reader #star wars fanfiction

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piprocrastinator · 5 years

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Let’s Chat

Hello and Welcome to my corner.

Today I’d like to talk to you all about the wonders that it 2Moons. It is a Thai show based on the Thai novel by the same name created by Chiffon_Cake.

In this episode which will be Part 1 am going to discuss season 1. Which seems like a fairly good spot to start.

So let's get going. woohoo.

Warning this contains spoilers for 2Moons Season 1!

Season one cast is

Phana - Godt

I think he did a good job portraying a sassy smart boy who likes basketball and secretly loves Wayo. He gives a very good bitchy stoic face and the difference between his and Bas body proportions made them look really cute together on-screen. I think off-screen their chemistry is ... shaky, which is fine because they did good on screen and that’s really what their job was but you know cute offscreen stuff would be good. That isn’t to say that GodtBas didn’t fed the masses, because they did. They understood how to serve some cute couple stuff but like you could feel that it was like their job and stuff *flaps hands in explanation*. I like Godt off screen better he seemed less tense than on-screen.

Wayo - Bas

Man this boy can be cute when he wants to be with his cute little cheeks, ugh! I think the way he portrayed this version of Wayo was good, he did the spacey look well while still being able to hold onto the camera which is difficult to do. He was also good at pouting, it was really cute. Overall I think he is a better model than an actor.

NEXT!~

I really had to contain myself because boy BOY~! do I love enjoy this couple. from the whole cast they’re my favorite. Although they are not my favorite BL on screen couple nor are they my favorite off-screen but they're still cute and within the bounds of this cast, their the best.

Kit - Copter

Let’s just start off with the dimples. THE DIMPLES!! If you haven’t seen the dimples you should. His pouting, annoyed Kit was good. He did have some moments where I wish he would have been more emotive towards the character, like he seemed flat sometimes but overall no bad. Mainly I can’t get over the dimples, I have soft spot for them...

Ming - Kimmon

I think he is my favorite actor our of the cast. He did a good job portraying a pouty, confident and happy Ming. He made the character seem realistic, I guess. He seemed to take over the scenes when he was on-screen.

Beam - Tee

Ok what i’m about to say might hurt some feelings so i’m going to preface, this is my opinion! not meant to hurt any feelings buuuuuuut I am not a fan of him like at all. As far as his acting goes I mean, I think as an actor he is very flat... like flaaaaaatter than my chest flat (haha bad joke by bad <.< lol) but really there was nothing to him, he was there....

Forth - Tae

My opinion on him is pretty... small because he honestly he didn’t have that much screen time, more than Beam (Tee) but like really not that much at all. or maybe they had the same.. either way it wasn’t much at all. He was ok.... *sighs* I really wish I had more to say about him too but um... yeah...

I feel bad judging Tee and Tae for their performances as Forth and Beam because they really didn’t have any representation int he show for this season and that’s not their fault that’s just sonf of how the books are, that first book is like PHANAWAYO!! and it doesn’t leave much room for the others and that sucks for them because this season was all they got but I mea they did what they could with what they got.

(They will all be in an upcoming drama called Hotel Stars the Series i’m super excited to see more KimCop! oh be still my bating heart I hope they have lots go cute moments ><)

Also!! excluding Godt how is no in monk training last I heard, the other five boys are in a group called SBFIVE and they’re cute in it.

NOW! Onto the main event! The Show.

2Moons is centered around Wayo and Phana. Wayo being a love struck kid who turns into a love struck college boy man? going to the same school as his crush! Like I know, right? How lucky can he be?! (Well not that lucky because he knew which school Pha was going too and applied for it but still) and it gets better, his crush actually likes him back! Double whammy! But life can’t be that easy because at first they don’t really get along which sucks for Wayo because he has this creepy shrine of Pha and thinks about him all the time in a stalker yet not stalker way. Pha doesn’t really recognize him at first either so it’s like they’re starting new again, like meeting for the first time a second time...?

Pha is the leader of the ‘Wild Doctor Gang’ (which is just him, Beam and Kit). Pha decides to hid his feelings until he sees Wayo again when he was in high school. At first he doesn’t want to love you because ‘he’s guy and I'm a guy’ and you know how it goes but then he decides I guess towards the end that - surprise! - he has feeling and everyone knew but let him ignore it because.. friendship? Anyways, at first he like picking on Wayo and calls him Shorty and it’s cute, I guess *shrugs noncommittally*. But then one day during the Moons rehearsal he’s all like “damn who that cutie with the glasses?” and Beam and Kit are like “that’s Wayo, bitch”. (ok that’s not exactly how it goes but you get the picture.) Pha realizes that his love is close enough that he can now chase him without the previous hesitation. And the chase is on.

The first season is all about them learning each other again the then in the end they get together and exchange bracelets which, you know, is also cute.

The side story is that Forth is kind of trying to hit on Wayo at the same time as Pha and that just makes Pha jealous so they have this littler rivalry going on. Beam is just kind of there, he really doesn’t have much going on throughout this besides some random one liners that honestly don’t meant o much to this part of the series. Poor Beam, he really doesn’t get much time in this season :/ Forth gets more as he is a love rival. But honestly its not enough. but realistically this season is all Pha and Wayo and I honestly find their story kind of lake luster. It’s so..... sooooo.... ugh, like there isn’t anything new to it. Wayo is really spacey and like weird and kind of stalker-is and Pha is maybe independent but like he turns into mush around Wayo and not in the ‘awww’ way but in the ‘get yourself together boy’ way.

I do enjoy the small bit of Mingkit that they showed int he series though!

Ming is trying to hit on Kit because who knows why at this point, maybe he has a liking for when people push him away. Kit is really sassy and pushes Ming away like every chance he gets except some how Ming tricks Kit into going out to eat with him when Kits car won’t start one night after the gym and then again when he wins the Moon competition and both scenes are cute as Kit tries to look at Ming and Ming tried his best to capture the heart of the grumpy KitKatTM.

I think overall considering the cast, script and directing I give it a ... 4 out of 10.

Which sees really low, I know, but let me explain.

1 - The cast is alright, Tee and Tae didn’t get much time but from what I did see i’m not a huge fan. Godt and Bas with their lead roles did alright, but the chemistry just wasn’t what it need to be to show the amount of love they supposedly had for each other, (like in the books it’s a lot..) but they didn’t do horrible it just could have been better. Kimmon and Coptor I think did the best job with he chemistry out of the three couples but you don’t really get to see them toooo much so it’s almost a moot point. There was potential and I think had this show gotten another season we may have been able to see way more of it.

2 - I like the script did alright, it gave some time for the audience to get to know Phana and Wayo slowly, which helps in growing with the characters, gaining attachment.

3 - There are some weird directional choices (That I think might just be a Thai thing because I’ve noticed in some other shows as well.

4 - Also the weird silences. (there isn’t so much in this show but I think that it’s a common directors choice throughout the Thai shows.) I’m not a fan of weird silences of weird pauses in speech it takes you out of the scene because you’re like ‘I see there line here but your pause makes me think you forgot it’ or ‘why didn’t you reshot this scene so that the conversation flowed like a conversation and not someone reading from a script’.

Overall 4 - Potential was there.

Still would recommend though.

#2 moons the series #phawayo #forthbeam #mingkit #seriescritic #2moons #copter #kimmon varodom #godt #bas #sbfive

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fourteen--steps · 6 years

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On big goldfish, and listening to each other

I apologize if the tone of this post is maybe a little more snippy than my usual ones. I’m usually very thoughtful with my words but I’ve had an incredibly rough physical and emotional week and I’m running low on spoons to devote to thinking things through properly. My frustration’s gonna bleed through here but I don’t want anyone to take it personal cause it’s really more me than you.

That said.

Remember that whole trend a while ago of “don’t give advice on animals you haven’t kept or deeply researched?” What ever happened to that? What ever happened to respecting the expertise and hearing out the opinions of people who actually have it in that field vs demanding you’re right because you’ve read some care sheets and seen some photos of worst case scenarios?

My whole life and world has been immersed in goldfish for the last several years. Keeping multiple breeds of both single tail and fancy, reading, researching, joining everything from casual hobbyist groups to those of serious breeders and highly respected names. I’ve moderated, built, and eventually owned my own care forum. I’ve spent hours reading vet manuals and scientific articles, as well as conducting necropsies on every animal I lose to better understand their inner workings and what’s gone wrong. I had the wonderful experience last summer of raising a small batch of someone else’s fry. I’ve experimented with all different kinds of food and filtration and maintenance and decor and enrichment.

I don’t know everything, nobody can. I’m not perfect, nobody is. But I can say with confidence I know a lot about the care and keeping of goldfish overall, and that my information is overall very solid and thought out.

So when someone comes in my inbox and asks my opinion on something goldfish related, my answer comes with all that experience and thought behind it. I often include caveats in my answers when I’m not 100% sure, or if I believe there’s no one-size-fits-all solution. I’m not so bigheaded as to believe that my way is absolutely always right and will work for every situation and every fish. But I answer in earnest and with confidence and reasoning.

But then my posts get immediately doused with comments from people who to the best of my knowledge have little to no experience with the species. The ones who do have experience tend to be polite in their responses, if not a bit misguided, although even then their knowledge tends to bottom out at keeping some orandas in a 40B or having tended a garden pond. Often the other comments are far more cursory and involve varying amounts of dismissal of my opinion entirely, insults, condescension, and most frustratingly, wild misinformation (much of which I’ve only heard echoed back and forth within the microcosm of tumblr, and never from a reputable outside source)

Like I’ve read a fair amount about bettas now both on here and elsewhere just cause they’re such popular fish and I’m a nerd and I’m curious. But I’ve never kept one, and I’m not an expert, and I’d never go be snappy on the advice post of someone who I know has a lot more practical and academic knowledge with them than I do? At the very least I could politely ask a question or voice a dissenting opinion with some of my reasoning, possibly acknowledging the deficits in my experience, but diving straight in with the vitriol just baffles me.

It’s come to my attention people are vagueing about me now and that’s just? So fucking childish and unnecessary. I’m also being accused of having stunted fish based on, among other things, the old eye proportion criteria, but btw that image of the ranchu that circulates as an example? Is heavily photoshopped and not a reliable catchall method to determine stunting.

For those who didn’t believe Zoom is as big as I said, I took this picture today. He’s not the most personable of my fish so he wouldn’t let me get him against a measuring tape but I measured my hand like that at about 4 inches, then pasted those identical bars on him (swear the blue bar is the same I just recolored so it’d stand out, not sure why it looks a little longer than the red). He’s just under 8 inches, nose to peduncle. Maybe even a tad longer cause he always curls a little when I flip him on his side (also why his side looks a little sunken here, he was getting ready to snap back and splash me in the face :P). When measuring goldfish you don’t include fins, by standard. If you wanna tack on the extra inch or so of tail go ahead and call him 9″

I also weighed him, he’s 109 grams which is a tad less than I’d like but I’ve been having issues with one fish in the tank needing a specialized diet so they’ve all been getting a little less protein than usual lately. The fish with the diet issue is probably going to be going back to @finefeatheredfish soon and I can pick up with weekly Worm Nights as usual again. His body condition is still good though rounded from above without being bloated, muscular rather than fatty, with a nice smooth taper head to tail and a bit of a belly. He’s not a very tall fish, but that’s more cause he’s a badly bred feeder fish who doesn’t fit the perfect common genetic standard than anything. Height isn’t about health, that’s a genetic characteristic that some fish just won’t achieve. In fact many tall “humpy” commons are not actually properly tall, but have large fat deposits along the tops of their bodies particularly built up behind the head which are an indicator of poor diet and overfeeding.

In fact if you want, here’s the US hibuna show standard! Take a look!

What about the eye thing? It’s huge compared to his head right? Well here’s a shubunkin posted by Gary Hater, currently one of the most well respected breeders in the US hobby, both for his fish quality and welfare standards. Who incidentally keeps most of his in aquariums and states that they normally reach 6-8″ indoors. This fish was from his “giants” tank, one of which he said was roughly 10 inches. This one in the video looked a little smaller than aforementioned Big Boy so I figure it’s around 8″ or so, like Zoom. and hey, look at that big googly eye! Almost like eye size can vary naturally in healthy goldfish and isn’t necessarily a sign of stunting without other important factors that are often much more subtle and far less textbook!

The last think I want to bring up, is that this whole “goldfish are ALL large” and by extension “NEED to be large” to be “right” worries me for another reason. I’m concerned there’s a mounting pressure that goldfish should be reaching these enormous sizes that they aren’t meant to, in far too short of a time. Many of the fish that do reach these sizes in captivity, yes even the ones in ponds, reach them due to powerfeeding. Intentional or not, these fish are put on high protein, high filler, sometimes high fat diets, and often fed a lot of it. Outdoor fish also gorge themselves on algae, insects, worms, snails, aquatic plants, sometimes other small fish, anything they can get their greedy little mitts on. Then their owner will dump in a large cup of cheap high protein pond conditioning food and they scarf that down too.

For aquarium fish, a nervous newbie keeper may see their young fish isn’t growing to the size they believe it’s supposed to and get a bigger tank, start feeding extra bloodworms, more meaty pellets, maybe turn the heater up a degree or two to boost their metabolism. They balance it out with lots of veggies so they think it’s okay, they just want their fish to be healthy and catch up to where it’s “supposed” to be! This leads to rapid and impressive growth, yes, but it comes with dangerous and potentially deadly consequences.

Some of you may remember Queenie. She was the largest goldfish I’ve ever personally encountered, 10-11 inches and fat fat with it. Her original owner surrendered her to our LFS and @finefeatheredfish immediately bought her with the plan that she’d move into my 150 when it was set up. She was healthy at the time, some kind of long bodied fancy mix and drop dead gorgeous, though she needed to drop some weight for sure. Too young to be that massive and visibly overweight. She was unquestionably a powerfed pond fish.

Cw for euthanasia mention, pet death, graphic descriptions, next 3 paragraphs

But about a month into her QT she began getting sick, infection-like symptoms but antibiotics didn’t do anything. We worked on her another month, did our best to save her. We probably should have euthanized her earlier in hindsight but we wanted so bad to get her through and give her a happy home. She was just so amazing you know? I took her for the last week of her life to try some last ditch treatment, she died about 3 days after this photo was taken.

I did a necropsy on her afterwards. Her vital organs were layered in fat. There was so much of it around her swim bladder that I thought it was another organ at first and got confused. I’m shocked it was still functional. Her liver was unidentifiable mush, suggesting chronic disease, and her gallbladder had simply exploded and spilled bile all over the surrounding tissue. Her body cavity was full of blood and fluid. The cause of death appeared to be the rupture of her gallbladder or liver and the tearing of some important vessel in that area, she bled out internally.

The chronic liver and gallbladder disease were entirely untreatable for home aquarists. What we thought was infectious dropsy was full on liver failure, she couldn’t balance the fluid and electrolytes in her body anymore which caused the swelling. Likely even if we had taken her to the vet there would have been little they could do. You can’t really remove a fish’s inflamed gallbladder, or transplant in a new liver to replace a failing one. Those conditions are linked to obesity in many species, and I have no doubt that Queen’s diet and obesity were the cause of the chronic conditions that lead to her slow death.

She was powerfed because someone wanted a large, impressive fish, and it killed her. She deserved so much better than that.

CW over

Powerfeeding and its results are not always that extreme, and I can go into more on the other risks and issues if anyone is interested, but this is long enough already. I wanted to include Queenie as a cautionary tale, and because I’m still so sad she never got to meet the rest of my little school. She was such a sweetheart.

I have a genuine concern with this normalization of 12-14″+ fish as average, that people are going to start pushing their pets to meet that. Most goldfish are not genetically capable of that growth. I’d go so far as to say most goldfish should not reach that size, at least not in any appreciably quick period of time.

Feed your fish well. Keep their water clean. Give them room to swim. They will grow on their own time, to their own size.

And lastly. I’m open to talking about this stuff, really. I love to learn new things and hear new sides. Just please, be friendly and mature and let’s have a real conversation? We can disagree politely. It doesn’t have to be black and white, mortal enemies, I know fishblr’s environment these days isn’t very conducive to that, and that’s part of why I’d left a few weeks ago. But I’m trying to give it another chance cause this community used to be really welcoming and wonderful. I’d really love for us to be able to step away from all this polarizing distrust and be open and considerate again.

My responses may be spotty because of the terrible week I mentioned at the beginning of this post but I’ll try and check back.

#I think I kept this mostly together and said most of what I want to say #goldfish #fishblr #long post #fishies #zoom #queenie #pet death mention

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groggycascade · 6 years

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Josh’s Balls Incite Him to Foolishness Pt. II

Kelsey's routine on getting home from work was:

Step out of high heels in front hallway.

Look in on Hayley and Josh.

Shower.

Wine – 1 glass of.

After particularly long or difficult days, this routine might be amended slightly. For instance, her high heels might be not so much stepped out of as kicked off. Or, for glass of wine she might substitute bottle. Most often, though, she would elongate her time in the shower by about twenty minutes. First, she would undress in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bathroom, reminding herself how sexy she still was at the age of forty-two. The stress of having raised two children almost single-handed hadn't dented her beauty: even without her professionally-understated makeup, she looked five or six years younger than her true age. Then there was her body. Kelsey wasn't a vain person, but her body was her proudest feature. She kept in shape with vigorous cardiovascular exercise at the gym, to say nothing of pilates, aerobics, yoga, swimming, crossfit... Once upon a time her body had, in addition to being beautiful, been a fierce weapon. That was back when Hayley and Josh were younger, and Kelsey had made a little extra money as a martial arts instructor, a position she had left voluntarily after a boy in her class lost both his testicles in an accident. She hadn't practised karate since that day: although the accident hadn't been her fault (the dumb kid had taunted a blackbelt girl while not wearing a cup), she had been devastated by guilt at the thought that a young man under her care would live the rest of his life without testicles.

After admiring herself for a decent interval, Kelsey'd slip under the hot, thudding water. Slowly, she would drift away... Almost of their own accord her hands would start massaging her breasts, before moving down between her legs. After an extra-stressful workday, these protracted showers of hers never failed to leave Kelsey feeling relaxed and good about herself.

Today had been one of those days. Before she could administer a little self-love, though, Kelsey had to check in on her two children. This was the part of her routine that never changed. Josh and Hayley were her two favourite things in the world, and nothing could make her not glad to see them.

She met Hayley first: she was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. For some reason, Kelsey thought, her daughter seemed kind of flushed and self-satisfied-looking. Unbidden, the thought that this was the outcome of sex came to Kelsey's mind. So far as she knew Hayley didn't have a boyfriend right now, but that was always liable to change. Hayley'd inherited her mother's ample proportions and outgoing personality. There was never any shortage of young men hanging around. Josh, thought Kelsey as she knocked on his door, was much more of an introvert. She wondered sometimes if he might still be a virgin.

Josh was lying on his bed when she entered. The first thing Kelsey noticed was a bag of frozen peas between his legs.

“Joshy!” she cried.

“Hey,” Josh said weakly. In a strained voice, he explained that he'd been changing a lightbulb in the lounge, standing on the arm of a sofa, when he'd slipped and fallen with one leg on either side of the sofa arm.

Her initial concern at the sight of her injured son abating somewhat, Kelsey thought how cute it was that he didn't say anything about his “balls,” “privates,” or “testicles.” Boys were so insecure about their sensitive little organs: it must be completely humiliating to Josh for his own mother to see him with his pride and genitals bruised like this. That started her worrying again: how badly hurt must he be to let her see him in this condition? What if he had ruptured a testicle? Surely it would already be too late to save..?

“Did you check yourself out, honey?” she asked Josh. “You know how fragile you are... down there,” she said, pointing downwards.

“I'm OK,” he answered, not sounding it. “This ice is helping a lot.”

Kelsey bit her lip. She was wondering if she ought to tell Josh about Bobby, the boy whose testicles ended up getting turned to mush in her karate class, all those years ago. It would be an uncomfortable conversation, sure: the words ruptured testicles never failed to elicit shudders, winces, groans, from any boy who heard them. This Kelsey knew from experience: she had spent many years demonstrating the most effective methods from destroying a pair of testicles to classes full of smirking girls and sullen boys. But that was only for self-defence: no man who wasn't trying to harm a woman deserved castration. Kelsey couldn't even imagine the pain and humiliation that would entail, but she knew that talking about it with her son would be acutely embarrassing for him. Still, she thought she probably ought to: there was something about his story which didn't ring true, as though there were some information he was withholding from her...

“I'm OK,” Josh repeated, almost as though he'd guessed what was on his mother's mind.

“Well, only if you're sure honey,” Kelsey said. He was nineteen after all, she thought: old enough to look after his own balls. But she didn't like the thought of doing nothing. “At least let me fetch you another bag of peas,” she said. “This one's melting all over you!”

With that, she lifted the sodden bag off her son's balls. What Kelsey didn't know was that, to ensure maximum scrotal contact with the frozen peas, Josh had pulled his whole package out of the front of his shorts. Kelsey's eyes widened as she looked down at her son's swollen balls and his small penis. I hope that's from the cold, she thought sadly, or he'll never get any use out of it, balls or no balls.

“Jesus!” Josh shouted.

“Oh! Sorry!” Kelsey exclaimed, dropping the bag of peas directly on Josh's exposed testicles.

“Argh!”

“Oh God, Joshy! I'm so sorry!”

Josh didn't respond. He'd curled his body around the bag of peas, his eyes squeezed shut. Flustered, Kelsey fled the room.

Outside, she leaned against her son's door. Slowly she calmed down. She'd seen, and for that matter inflicted, a few ruptured testicles in her time. Her accidental glimpse of her son's genitals had been enough to reassure her that they had received no permanent injury. As for the mishap with the pea-bag: that would leave him no worse than sore for a while.

Grinning slightly, Kelsey bit her index finger. There was no denying it: so long as no serious damage occurred, testicular pain was... well, pretty funny actually. The memory of Josh's comically enlarged balls and shrunken cock came into her mind, and she giggled. Poor Josh! Nature hadn't exactly blessed him with sexual endowments the way it had his sister.

That was when she noticed Hayley standing a little way down the hall, looking at her with amused curiosity.

“Everything alright, mum?” she asked.

“Err... yes!” Kelsey said. “Your brother's just had a little accident.”

“I know!” Hayley said delightedly. “He fell on his balls! I wanted him to let me check to see if he'd popped one,” she went on, “but he insisted on crawling up his his room.”

“Why didn't you tell me?!” Kelsey cried.

“They're his balls,” Hayley pouted. “If he can't look after them, that isn't my fault.”

Later, standing under the hot, relieving shower, Kelsey continued to worry about her son's testicles. While his injury had seemed fleetingly funny, Hayley's reaction had reminded her that there were girls out there who either didn't understand the fragility of a boy's balls, or just didn't care. Almost automatically her hand passed over her smooth vagina. She knew she wouldn't be able to masturbate now, not after what had just happened. Eventually she turned the water off.

She had come to a decision that she needed a conversation with both her children.

* * *

Hayley eased open the door to her brother's room.

“She believe you?” she asked, poking her head around the door.

“Yes,” Josh wheezed.

“Good! Because it turns out we may have to step up our operation. I've been sounding out some ballbusting message boards, and people are excited, to say the least. Some of their ideas are a little... extreme.” Hayley giggled. “For example, 'HollyJ91' says she'll pay £200 for a video where I, quote, yank my brother's trousers down, hold his ankles apart, and keep stomping till there's nothing left between his legs.”

Josh looked horrified. Hayley laughed at his expression.

“Don't worry, Joshy! If I'm going to stomp your little balls into jelly it will be for a hell of a lot more than £200. I mean, how short-sighted do you think I am?”

Cackling, she withdrew her head from the door. Josh sighed miserably. Hayley's face popped back into view.

“Oh, and you'd better think up a bunch of excuses for why you're walking funny for the next few weeks,” she said. “Do I have to think of everything? I thought we were partners in this thing!”

Josh heard her chuckling quietly to herself as she skipped off down the hall.

#Ballbusting Story #Castration Threats

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ouraidengray4 · 7 years

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3-Ingredient Face Masks So Pure You Could Eat Them

Despite the fact that I know full well that you can absorb tons of stuff through your pores, I’ve put an awful lot of weird stuff on my face. The list includes but is not limited to: retinol, mud, a variety of plastics, hyaluronic acid, parabens, phthalates, and most recently, a face full of actual snail mucus, which actually totally did its job well, but is also kind of inherently gross ($10.99 for 10; amazon.com).