Not wanting any competition Becca started to drain her friends assets. Her bikini top strained as her already DD titties grew to FF, but the real story was her growing ass. The friend had a amazing ass like hers but she was slowly taking it. As she grew she also grew taller, pushing her friend into the wall of the bathroom and crushing her. She must have made some noise since a hotel employee came into her room asking her if everything was ok. This employee was more stacked then her friend, her bra visible through her outfit as her F cup tits pushed outwards. Her ass straining her work shorts, “you’ll make a fine addition like my friend here did” Becca said whole walking towards the employee.
|| Whilst joking around about head canons, I got inspired to write this little bit of this little bit– and another NCHC that I’ll end up posting at some point. The following is not cannon at all! ||
She was born of dusk but raised in sand.
At some point in her youth, she had been abandoned by not one, but two fathers– or so that was how her mother told it, and her father never seemed to protest the sentiment.
It was uncertain to Eilonwy if Kurel loved her mother or if Eilithe had loved him in return, and over the years they spent together she had learned to place things like love down her list of priorities. For whatever reason the two had presented in a sort of regal union for twenty some years. Regardless of his feelings for her mother or the lack of, at some point over those years she had become An’Diel.
She was taller than her mother by a mere inch, a perfect stepping stone between Eilithe and Kurel’s height. Kurel’s training had made her solid– added a few scars though she had many years ahead to add to the collection. Rather it was her ‘heathen’ roots in Dead Sun, or her ‘father’s’ Tanari influence, Eilonwy’s beauty was wrapped up in a fierce rugged look. Thin dreads made up her hair, which stayed pulled back- and practical leathers she never seemed to take off. As though she was the perfect blend of Duskbringer and An’Diel, she carried one dagger and one sword.
Clank. Clank. Schhling. The sound of metal against metal was intermittent with the loud shouts which could only be compared to a war cry. She had her mother’s fury. Her father’s recklessness.
Eilonwy was on the attack, sword, dagger, sword, dagger- she was relentless. After all this time no one knew if the old bastard really could not see. The way Eilonwy laid into him, she certainly did not seem to care. Each blow was defended, making her more angry- making her strikes more furious. Until she let out a grunt and thrust kicked square into Kurel’s chest sending him into the sand on the beaches of Dead Sun. It was immediately followed by a forceful lunge of her dagger- which she stopped centimeters from his jugular.
Her chest was heaving before she finally split a grin. She was waiting for his word.
“Its better,” he said, not in any particularly approving tone.
She sheathed the dagger, squatted beside him. A chuckle, no a snicker came from her throat. “I think you mean, ‘good job’. That would have killed you, An’da.”
“Woul’ it?” The shit eating grin had not changed.
At that moment the shadows melted behind Eilowny and a hard thrust kick sent her reeling into the sand. Eilithe’s hand extended to Kurel’s, helping the man to his feet- a stare down at the girl from them both.
“Watch for finger wigglers an’ spooks like your mother.”
Eilithe and Kurel extended a hand to the girl in the dirt, her mother’s voice was almost cold. “If you are to inherit our empire you must keep getting stronger.”
There’s another way of reading Anne of Green Gables, and that’s to assume that the true central character is not Anne, but Marilla Cuthbert. Anne herself doesn’t really change throughout the book. She grows taller, her hair turns from ‘carrots’ to 'a handsome auburn’, her clothes get much prettier, due to the spirit of clothes competition she awakens in Marilla, she talks less, though more thoughtfully, but that’s about it. As she herself says, she’s still the same girl inside. Similarly, Matthew remains Matthew, and Anne’s best chum Diana is equally static. Only Marilla unfolds into something unimaginable to us at the beginning of the book. Her growing love for Anne, and her growing ability to express that love - not Anne’s duckling-to-swan act - is the real magic transformation. Anne is the catalyst who allows the crisp, rigid Marilla to finally express her long-buried softer human emotions. At the beginning of the book, it’s Anne who does all the crying; by the end of it, much of this task has been transferred to Marilla. As Mrs Rachel Lynde says, 'Marilla Cuthbert has got mellow. That’s what.’
*SLAMMING MY FISTS ON A TABLE* HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO HANA SONG IS TALLER THEN LUCIO