#I'm in too deep with these tax studies

[lilalilan]

Partnership taxation my beloved

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Sass & Suspenders

Legal AU: Prosecutor!Bucky x Female!Doctor!Reader

You and Bucky are both professionals in a long term relationship, but you like to mix things up once in a while despite the humdrum of life.

Warnings: smut, 18+ only, minors please leave

Word Count: 2,953

A/N: Because I have a thing for men in suspenders and I've thought about this for far too long.

Bucky groaned. But not one iota of the deep articulation of the sound that escaped his lips was rooted in any form of pleasure. You shared the sentiment. Taxes - who ever enjoyed doing those?

"Do we have to?" he whined.

"You promised!" you admonished, knowing full well that if he persisted in his protests, you would succumb to his point of view. 

The pout you received in response was almost as good as his closing arguments. It was 9pm and you had both left your busy jobs to spend an evening together completing your tax returns. Your relationship had most certainly reached the pinnacle of excitement. 

Heaving a sigh of resignation, you nudged your boyfriend towards the study you shared. The two of you had been putting off the chore for several weeks and you had finally laid down the law to your handsome attorney.

"I'm tired."

"So am I, but it has to be done. Come on."

Despite the fact that your crazy careers that kept you busy until ridiculous hours, the two of you found a way to do something together, even if it was only sleeping. Early in your relationship, there had been a number of rescheduled or incomplete dates, but the offending party would make it up to the other with their favorite cupcake the following day. In all honesty you were surprised that you hadn't gained a tonne of weight because of the quantity of cake you had consumed.

It wasn't long before you knew that Bucky was the one for you and you apprehensively admitted your feelings to him. To your immense relief, he reciprocated those feelings and in no time at all you'd moved in together and were filling out tax returns like an old married couple. It was incredible how well you synced with each other, in spite of your differences. A difference that was evident on this auspicious evening.

When carrying out a task that needed concentration and an arduous undertaking, you liked to be comfortable, meaning you immediately changed into one of your chemise nightgowns. Bucky on the other hand felt the only way to concentrate was to roll up his shirt sleeves and dig in in full professional garb. He often said that staying in ‘character’ helped him focus.

Neither of you objected particularly to the other's choices, particularly when Bucky was wearing suspenders with his suits. You would never dare admit it, but you had developed an overwhelming fondness for seeing your sweetheart in suspenders. One might even describe it as a kink.

Before meeting Bucky, you had never met anyone under the age of 70 wearing suspenders. You considered it to be a quirk of many of your elderly patients. But for some reason, Bucky made it look like the height of fashion. Many a time you found yourself wondering what it would be like to grab a hold of the elasticated straps and pull him into your arms. Today happened to be one of those many distracting occasions that left you dazed and very much aroused. It was several moments before you acknowledged the fact that Bucky was leaning across the table in an attempt to meet your gaze.

"Hey there, doll," he gave you that lopsided grin that drove you nuts. "What happened to 'we must focus' and 'get this done tonight'?"

The flush on your face deepened. 

"What's going on in that brain of yours? You're kinda quiet."

You bit your lip, treating him to a coy smile. "I just have other things on my mind."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Just admiring how handsome my boyfriend looks."

"You looked like you were looking straight through me, not at me."

"Bucky, let's get back to this paperwork."

"No."

"No?"

"I want you to tell me what you were thinking about." His tone was low and commanding. Almost as though he already knew the dirty thoughts that had crossed your mind. 

You felt your pulse quicken. "May I plead the fifth, counselor?"

"No, doll. You're under my jurisdiction now. You're under oath to speak the truth."

"The whole truth?"

"Nothing but the truth."

"So help me God?"

"I'll be the only one here that can help you. Now tell me what you were thinking."

"How about I show you?" Rising from your chair, you sauntered over to Bucky's side of the large oak desk.

Sliding into his lap, you ran your fingers along the elastic straps of his suspenders, tracing the small grooves and indentations of the springy material.

"See something you like, doll?"

The groan that escaped your lips was nothing short of sinful. You wrapped one strap in each of your empty fists and tugged at them forcefully, pulling Bucky towards you until his mouth was barely an inch from yours. All words were forgotten on your part.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice so low you could barely make out his words through the carnal desire in his voice.

His lips were so close, you could practically taste a whiff of that last cup of coffee he had swallowed before leaving work. You watched the steely blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils expanded with arousal. Bucky's hands settled on either side of your face, his skin was on fire, or maybe it was yours, it was impossible to tell.

His lips brushed against yours lightly, so soft and it sent shivers through your nerves, shivers that made your whole body tremble. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you said nothing, he pressed his lips on yours a little harder, leaving a slightly sloppy kiss on your mouth. “How about now?” he asked. He traced a solitary finger along the line of your cheekbone. “Or now-”

The rest of his words were lost against your mouth. He kissed you gently, carefully, but it wasn’t gentleness you wanted, not now, not when it had been so long, and you knotted your fists tighter around his suspenders, pulling him harder against you. He groaned softly, low in his throat, and his arms circled you, gathering you against him.

All you wanted was Bucky, you wanted to feel him, all of him, pressing into you. You inhaled, breathing in his shaving cream, his cologne, that extra scent that was just...Bucky. The aroma was intoxicating and you were dizzy with desire to take him in. Parting your lips, you invited him. His tongue deftly entered your mouth, forcefully searching every possible crevice, teasing, tantalizing, tasting your unique flavor.

His hands slipped under the hem of your chemise, gently gliding his long digits across your sensitive abdomen, before moving them to your bountiful breasts, enjoying the way you whimpered and writhed every time he flicked one of your perky nipples. The electrifying sensations traveled through your body culminating in your arousal pooling in the meager piece of material covering your leaking lips. Before you had time to object, Bucky’s hands were splayed across the inside of your thigh, fingers creeping ever closer to your clothed clit.

"Mmm, objection," you hummed into his mouth.

Bucky unlocked his lips from yours, surprise and disappointment evident on his face. "Ok, I know, we have to get this done," he took his hand off your thigh and waved at the paperwork on the desk.

"Eager much?" your smirk insinuating at your meaning. You laughed and snapped one of his suspenders lightly. With the other hand, you swept your fingers over the bulge in his pants. "I have a counter argument."

"Oh?"

"Let me show you." Seductively, you slipped off his lap and knelt down between his legs. Looking up at his face, you watched the look of comprehension spread across his handsome features.

"Are you sure?" he asked, somewhat apprehensively. 

"Certain." The bulge seemed to be growing before your very eyes, straining at the seams of his pricey pants. "I've missed how you taste."

Bucky sucked in a breath in anticipation of your actions, eyes wide as you unzipped his pants and freed his hardening cock. Gently, you trailed your fingers up and down his shaft. "It's your turn to tell me what you want me to do to you."

"You know what I like, doll."

That you did. "I want to run my tongue over every inch of you." Lowering your head, you took him into your mouth, warm and soft, you took a moment to savor his taste. You hummed with appreciation, your tongue flickered and danced around the tip and instantly you felt him swelling and growing hard for you, his cock filling your mouth with every lick. 

You pulled back slightly as the head of his cock started to push against the back of your throat. "Tell me how good it feels. I want to hear you say it."

He groaned. The sound excited you, his body was coming alive for your mouth. You reached up to his chest, slipping your hand under the suspender strap and pushed down on his nipple.

"Oh doll, nobody has ever fucked me like you do," he cried as you worked your tongue over his frenulum. Bucky responded just as you wanted, the taste of pre-cum seeped into your mouth. He arched his back, eyes rolling backwards with pleasure.

Your free hand curled around his now rock hard member, with a loose grip, you gently moved your hand up and down encouraging the flow of more pre-cum from his tip to lubricate your actions and elicit the most ungodly moans from your boyfriend.

Hearing Bucky groaning so obscenely sent a tingle through your clit. After a pause, you tilted your head to take him further into your mouth, bobbing up and down with ease. His fingers mingled with your luscious locks as he guided your head gently as he tried not to trust too deeply into your throat. Bucky knew you often struggled to take him in completely and that he had to take care to not get too carried away in his bliss. 

It wasn't until he started cursing quietly under his breath in a way that made you come undone. You removed your mouth from his cock, "Buck, I can’t wait any longer… please I need you to fuck me."

"Doll, I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow." He stood suddenly and pulled you to your feet effortlessly.

"Buck-" you whined. "Please, I need you. Touch me."

"Turn around."

You obeyed. His erection pressed against you was more than you could bear.

"Buck, fuck me like you mean it."

"I always mean it," he growled into your ear. He pushed you forward onto the desk, forcing you onto your elbows. Your chemise rose up as you bent over the thick table, exposing your ass. His cock rested comfortably between your thighs, eagerly twitching, ready for action. Your dripping wet pussy literally begged for it.

Bucky tugged at the strip of material that was the only thing keeping him from entering you. "Is this ok?"

"Oh God, yes," you exclaimed. At any other time, you may have been ashamed of your wanton cries, but right now you couldn't care less. All you wanted was to feel Bucky pushing into you, filling you up, making you pulse with pleasure around him in that way that no one else could compare.

"Not God, just me," he smirked.

At what felt like an excruciating slow pace, Bucky stroked your slit with his tip, collecting the succulent elixir that you had made, just for him. As he touched your clit, you shuddered deeply and gasped. You closed your eyes and focused on the ecstatic sensations that shot through your body as your opening stretched in receipt of his cock.

It was a good thing you were half sprawled across the sturdy table because your legs felt like jelly and would give way at any moment. As if Bucky could hear your thoughts, he curled his fingers around your hips, the tips pressed into your flesh salaciously.

"Oh Buck! I want you all the way inside me, give me all of you."

"Is that what you like, doll?"

"Yes, you know that’s what I like."

"I hope you're ready for this, because I know I am," Bucky purred.

He certainly was. He didn't hesitate in plunging himself further into you like sheathing a sword to its hilt. The force made you gasp with pain and surprise and the grimace on your face didn't go unnoticed. Bucky bent forwards, his abdomen pressed against your back and asked, "too much?"

"Tad too fast," you answered. "I may have been a little too hasty about what I asked for."

His new position had relieved some of the pressure and you felt a lot more comfortable and ready for him to try again. Bucky's breath was hot on your back and the wave of pain was now ebbing away, replaced by your impatient longing.

"Let's try something different, shall we?"

His fingers crept around you until he found your clit. Bucky encouraged you to spread your legs by nudging your knees apart. Slowly, his digits struck up a steady pace rhythm of slow movements, starting below and dragging up again and again, until your the bundle of nerves was flushed and firm under his fingers and your juices started leaking out around him. Not until your hips start undulating did Bucky try pushing back inside you. You had to admire his self control as he made you unravel with the smallest flick of his finger.

"Buck-"

"Doll?"

"If you keep fingering me like that, this is going to be over before you get the chance to have any fun."

"Watching you cum is extremely fun for me."

"You feel so delicious inside me, but I need you to fuck me with your cock."

Bucky was only too happy to oblige. Proceeding with caution, he pushed slowly until he was fully inside you. A burning sensation radiated through you as you stretched to let him in.

"How does that feel?" he asked slightly apprehensively.

"Exquisite!" you sighed. 

You shifted to make yourself comfortable before Bucky pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty inside. But you didn't have to wait long before he was thrusting back half inside you, making you gasp and moan. It was almost too much for Bucky, he was already struggling to control himself but he held back, wanting to give you as much pleasure as possible for as long as possible. In and out, he moved further with each thrust until he was sliding all the way into you, hands roaming over your exposed back.

“Bucky. Buck...” you murmured.

“Doll, a little louder for those of us in the back.”

“Does it turn you on?” you smiled.

“You’ll be screaming my name by the end of the night.” He rutted against you sharply in an unexpected rhythm. 

“Haha, you’re going to have to do better than tha-ahh,” you struggled to complete your answer as he slipped one hand between your 

thighs.

"Come on," he coaxed you by edging his fingers up your leg.

"Make me cum, counselor."

"On one condition."

"Name. It."

"You know what I want doll. Let me give you a taste of what you want." Devilishly, your boyfriend slipped his hand between your folds and gave your throbbing clit a few small flicks.

"Buck-uhhhh."

"That's right doll, just a little more," he grunted, starting to come undone himself. "Oh fuck, just a little more."

"Just a little more, Bucky!"

You pushed down against the hand he had clamped over your clit as he pounded against you mercilessly, all speech forgotten. Both of you panted and pumped away each chasing your release. There is was, that all too familiar knot at the bottom of your stomach. It spread through you like lightening, permeating every fiber of your being. "Bucky, oh Bucky, I'm-" you cried out.

Your walls fluttered around him pushing him to the brink of ecstasy. His thrusts became more and more erratic as you tightened around him.  Your whole body shook with pleasure. "Bucky!"

The sound of you screaming his name in euphoria was what made him pulse inside you. Arching his back, Bucky spilled his hot milky load while chanting your name under his breath. 

Neither of you moved for the longest time, you sprawled across the table with Bucky bent over your limp form.

"Buck," you finally worked up the energy to speak. 

"Mmmm?"

"I wish you could be inside me forever."

"Wouldn't that be nice," he smirked at the very thought.

For a few more moments, neither of you moved. 

"Buck?"

"Mmmm?"

"I think my arm fell asleep."

You could feel the rumble of his laughter flow into you. He slowly extricated himself from you, now you were only connected by the thin trail of his creamy elixir.

Bucky gripped your waist as you clumsily lowered yourself off the desk. "Looks like we made a mess of this." He waved his hand at the scattered receipts that were now strewn all over the table top.

"Next time don't wear suspenders if you want to avoid interruptions," you admonished him playfully while pulling your chemise back down to a comfortable position.

"Seriously, that's what turns you on?" Bucky wiped himself off and tucked himself back into his pants.

"They make you look distinguished!" You sighed and wrapped your hands around the offending article of clothing.

"So how would you feel if I put on some plaid pajamas?" Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think you should hold me responsible for what happens to you." Smiling, you pulled at the straps and led your bemused boyfriend to bed.

[koisuko]

I love your writing so much! Tbh I would beg, borrow, and steal for a sequel to the cute stargazing reader insert you wrote with y/n x bi-han.

certainly, I hope this is good! I'm glad you like my writing, tapping my fingers and kicking my feet <3

here is part 1

Tw: none, fluffy Bi-han, gn reader

Ever since that night beneath the stars, Bi-han had been making subtle efforts to get a little closer to you, and you couldn't help but notice. During missions, he stood a bit closer; in training, he went a bit easier on you, and around the temple, he'd steal glances in your direction, quickly masking them with a stern expression. On rare occasions when you returned from a mission, battered and bruised, he'd discreetly pull you aside, away from prying eyes, and tend to your wounds in private, despite your protests. He even took the time to teach you a few self-medical tricks, his touch gentle and careful.

Tonight, another restless night loomed. Tossing and turning in bed, sleep remained elusive. With a heavy sigh, you abandoned the warmth of your covers and embarked on a quiet walk around the temple. You briefly considered seeking comfort from your best friend, Tomas, but knowing he'd just returned from a taxing mission, you decided to let him rest. Your steps led you to your favorite spot in the temple, the very place where you'd once stargazed with Bi-han.

You walked with your eyes closed, savoring the fresh night air as the sounds of nocturnal life enveloped you. By now, you'd committed the path to memory, walking it night after night without conscious thought. You stopped near your chosen spot, taking one last deep breath before opening your eyes. To your surprise, you spotted Bi-han sitting there, holding the book of constellations you'd given him. He seemed engrossed, flipping through the pages and studying each constellation as though committing them to memory.

"Bi-han?" you whispered, and he looked up, meeting your gaze with a soft yet serious expression. He grunted in acknowledgment and returned his attention to the book. Encouraged by his lack of any indication that he wanted to be left alone, you quietly took a seat beside him and joined in observing the stars.

"You can't sleep?" his gravelly voice reached your ears, and you couldn't help but smile. "No, I'm feeling a bit restless," you admitted, concern in your eyes. "What has you up at this hour?" For a moment, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the stars with a distant expression. "I'm restless too," he finally admitted, his voice tinged with something unspoken.

Sensing that he wasn't sharing the full truth, you decided not to press further, assuming that the weight of being the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei was taking its toll on him. You nodded in understanding and looked at the book in his hand. "How are you liking the book so far?" you inquired, a warm smile at the thought of him actually using your little gift.

To your surprise, a brief smile flitted across his lips before vanishing. "It's intriguing," he said, his gaze still fixed on the stars. "Seeing these shapes, each with its own story." You scooted a little closer, and your shoulders touched. Bi-han made no move to distance himself; in fact, he leaned in a bit closer.

"It is, isn't it?" you agreed, your voice filled with affection as you studied his features. Bi-han glanced over at you, and you turned your attention back to the stars, a light blush tinting your cheeks due to your proximity.

"Thank you," he suddenly said, his voice softer than usual. Hearing those words from him was a rare occurrence, and a sense of accomplishment swelled in your chest at earning such a small victory. You rested your head on his shoulder, and he gently snaked his arm around your waist in a tender side hug. With a sudden surge of confidence, you lifted your head and planted a quick kiss on his cheek before returning your head to his shoulder. Bi-han chuckled softly, unbeknownst to you; he cast a gentle gaze down at you, sporting a small smile, and a soft pink blush dusted his cheeks

"Anytime, Bi-han."

[annawayne]

Anna I'm just curious how old are you?

Sorry if I'm being intrusive I just overthink too much if I'm too old to be in fandom You can not answer if it's uncomfortable, so please don't feel pressured to answer

Much love!

Hi anon!

I'm 27, and it's all fine, don't worry!

And you know, I would say that fandom is the place that doesn't have any restrictions: we gather together not by the age, but for our love for the same things. And this, this love doesn't know no age, it always go beyond. So, anon, no matter how old you are - 20, 38, 45, or 60 - you're welcome in any fandom because you share the same love like other people do :3

I know that a lot of people think that being in fandom is not "serious", when being an adult, but the truth is that the only "not serious" behaviour is to judge other people by their interest (as long as this "interest" is not harmful or insulting others, of course).

I actually had a situation when some very toxic man (lol, of course) said to me regarding my love for AruAni, "You're obsessed and it's not very good for you. You're already a grown-up woman, you better act like one". Well, there's always an ultimate answer to it, the one I said to him, "You're right, I'm a grown up and, unlike you, I act like one, so I don't listen to rude shitbags like you who tell me what to do with my life" ┐⁠(⁠ ⁠∵⁠ ⁠)⁠┌

And this is really it, you don't have to listen to anyone what you should love or not. Your interest is yours.

I understand that, of course, it's also difficult because of the social pressure, but if we will listen to anyone's what to do with our lives, what will be left for us? Life is a very fragile thing. And this fragility is for us to keep, not for other people with malice on their fingers trying to touch it.

I'm just like anyone else - I have a full-time job, mundane chores, health problems, taxes, medical check ups, sleep deprivation, maintaining my finances (I also have another quite specific condition - living in a war, but it's another thing), but I also have my love for theater and classics and rock concerts, my obsession with literature and ethno/vintage, my love for cinema, for art, for studying, for silly socks with hilarious print under the black palazzo pants and massive boots, my love for AruAni, who I adore with all my heart, for creating - writing and drawing, for wheezing when I see kitties or doggies, for cuddling with my plushie shiba-inu (his name is Mochi, I love him).

I can go to the opera, and then come back, write some AruAni angsty scenes and scream here with everyone on Tumblr on some headcanons - if Armin loves sharks, how Annie tries not to lose herself during the Ambassadors meeting when Armin looks like that etc etc - before starting working usually 8 hours. And it doesn't make me less or "weirder", or special or anything else. It just makes me - me, and there's nothing bad about it. In fact, it only brings me joy.

So, anon, no matter how old you are, what matters is your genuine passion and love, and if anyone tells you how to live your life - the only thing I can tell, is that such people are just jealous deep inside that you can openly love something and enjoy something, when they are not capable of it, being embarrassed or losing all the interests in general, caging themselves into "adult" frames, too pressured by social standards or simply not even having time for it - the whole list of reasons is enormous, and it's very sad, in fact.

We all sometimes lose our interests and hobbies in this adult life hurricane, but if you have it - defend it like the tree defends its roots in the storm: like its life depends on it, because being able to have the interest and being passionate about something, this is what is worth fighting for. It's a blessing and we should cherish it. It's not easy, but it's worth it.

(sorry for the sudden long read, I'm sorry if I bored you. It just seemed to me that this topic bothered you and I wanted to support you)

[thedoodlenoodle14]

Ok sooo...a cool person ( @regretfullyrave ), convinced me to create a post about a few of my OCs for my future murder drones AU called "It lives on Ebony 8" and welll.....here it is! XD

I'll also first say that my AU takes place on a completely different Exoplanet called Ebony 8 (which instead of being ice and snow is mostly just forest and rivers, no oceans tho, unfortunately), but still used to be inhabited by humans before the disassembly drones attacked 😅

But, here's a list of my MD OCs! :3 or at least, the OC's I think are most important XD

1. Xane- Grumpy boi Xane! XD Before he was sent to earth, he, as well as two other disassembly drone ocs, Beta and Green, had a virus implanted within them which became known as "The Dark Matter infection" (which sort of gave Cyn an easy access to, not take them as hosts, but use them as puppets instead). Although Xane loves to fight, he hates to fight when controlled by Cyn and wishes to find a cure.

Other than that, Xane may seem pretty threatening, but deep down he's a big softie (he won't admit it tho XD)

2. Eric- Eric is my worker drone oc, and possibly the main character of my AU 👀 his parents once studied the disassembly drones and the The Dark Matter infection and after their death, Eric continued their work, but also befriended Xane and helps to find a cure for him.

Eric is smart, but not a very good fighter XD but he's kind and willing to give second chances. He finds disassembly drones way more fascinating than scary too lol

3. Green - (creative name, I know TvT) Just like Xane, Green also has the Dark Matter infection. When she landed on Ebony 8, she took a lot of damage. Her weapon system was damaged beyond repair, leaving her somewhat defenceless. However, without her weapon system, she couldn't easily overheat, meaning she didn't have a need to kill worker drones for oil. She actually ended up befriending a worker drone colony and becoming sort of a protector of them. Green is pretty chill and laid back tho and not overly dramatic like Xane XD

4. Beta - Once again, he has the Dark Matter infection too 😅 he's still a character I'm developing, but from what I can say, he's a pretty jumpy and paranoid dude and always nervous. And his best friend is a cat called Milo! :3 (Beta is a major cat person XD)

(I don't have an updated design for him yet 😅)

5. M - M is the leader of one of the disassembly drone squads (Xane's ex-squad too). She...uh...also killed Eric's parents...heh....😅 M is also kind of in love with Xane (despite Xane not feeling the same way at all XD), but M is pretty much a psychopath. However, I do want to continue developing her and perhaps giving her some motivations to her actions. Like...I know M is pretty evil...but I do believe she might be capable of change somehow.....just gotta keep developing her character 😅

(I also don't have an image for her yet XD)

6. Cortex - one of my newer Ocs, who was originally a worker drone, but I changed him to a disassembly drone instead XD He's M's twin brother, but I haven't developed a solid backstory or personality for this character yet. All I can say I that...he's not at crazy as M 😅 I'm still also trying to decide whether he would be a villain or not, but I have been thinking of giving him a similar role to J in some way.

As an added bonus, here's a little concept of Cortex when he was still a worker drone in development 👀

But yea...those are just the OCs that I think are pretty important in my AU so far :D they're all a work in progress and will probably change over time (except Xane, of course) :3

Also, go follow @regretfullyrave. They're cool! :3 And I also don't wanna get charged for tax evasion by W lmao

[shrimplymoray]

I'm without internet but fuck it, TWSTumblr hear me out on this one.

I see a lot of people Hc Jade as autistic and Floyd with ADHD and although both r amazing Hcs, I can't help but remember just how entangled with genetics those are.

So... AuDHD TWEELS

First reasoning for this is that those r really entangled with genetics, and since the twins are identical twins that meant that they were a single embryo that sit up into 2 people (per human logic, not considering how merfolk might work in this specific case).

Second: Although Jade fits into a lot of autistic traits and Floyd ADHD ones, some autistic and ADHD traits overlap each other in certain areas. And it is quite tricky to nail down which one one has, specially considering that only on recent studies and research did people actually understood that 1 person can have both.

Jade AND Floyd both show high, long lasting interest in specific topics. Jade's being Mountains and Mushrooms, while Floyd is fashion, more focused on the shoes aspect, and seemingly cooking. I don't think it is a stretch to say how he enjoys cooking, since it it almost feels second nature how much he knows about it and can deduct or do with that skill with ease. (We can see how good he is at deducting what to do food wise on his Culinary Crucible vignettes).

Both shows deep emotional knowledge but a sort of disconnection to their own emotions, something that I as an Autistic person can say 100% fits the criteria. Jade is very good at reading others emotions, but can be noted as detached when it comes to showing this to others, which he clearly uses to his advantage to seem polite and as approachable as he can be. Floyd on the other hand, is very in tune with others emotions (tho most times he doesn't put them into consideration), and is relatively good at expressing his owns although in a very intense way, but he lacks the self control and self preservation skills, noted by his rather bluntness when saying what he wants and also how he doesn't hold back from dropping whatever he doesn't want to anymore in a blink of an eye.

Jade is particularly noted to eat a lot, and as much as people do the canibal Jade theory, that can be just a form of anxiety reducing mechanism, much like stimming. More common in the ADHD aspect in my experience, some people may need multiple sensory inputs to keep themselves grounded in during a taxing day or task. For Floyd, since he does seem to have a deep interest in cooking, at least more than Jade in my view, his relationship with it is very much involving expanding his horizons. He doesn't seem to have a particular problem with texture, flavours, appearance or smell, but he does have a problem with things being too much of the same, and so repeating dishes a lot of doing something straight out the recipe feels taxing and boring. His way of dealing with food is by making something different to keep even the same ever dish interesting. (Again for proof of this, his Culinary Crucible vignettes are a great way of understanding this side of his.)

I can go on more and more, but I don't want to use all my data for a singular post.

[answersfromzestual]

Hi! Thank you for being a great resource and advocate.

Question: How did you bring up bottom surgery to your doctor? How did they respond, and do you have any tips for people who might be anxious about bringing it up?

I have been wanting to bring it up to a doctor, but I've been too afraid. I'm worried they'll say no, or act like I shouldn't want it for whatever reason (ex. the unfortunately common misperception that transmascs don't get/need bottom surgery). I don't know anyone else irl getting phalloplasty, and I still struggle with feeling ashamed about how bad I want/need it.

Thank you, and no pressure to answer this if you don't feel up to it, for any reason.

Hello and thank you :),

When talking to your doctor bring it up less as a question. Say "I have been researching this and looking into studies and I have been doing the work and I am serious, this is something I have been thinking about for awhile and need to be happy with myself in my skin". Ask them what steps they can help you with to get you going in the right path. This helps the doctor feel you are a lot more serious, they know at this point you need it, it's less a conversation of persuasion and more of a conversation of information.

I was very straight forward with my doctor, I came at him like an information tornado, and also I remember trying to explain my disconnect between my brain and body. I actually had to teach my family doctor about it. (With that don't be surprised if your family doctor does not know much, they are general practitioners, so they may know it in a very general term).

Pro Tip: email a clinic about generic information on the procedures and bring that information with you, it's proof you have put thought into it, and that you are serious about pursuing your transformation.

This is big and brave and I am proud of you. Just take some deep breaths, maybe try to talk to a trusted person and work out the kinks in your speech prior to the appointment.

It's better to be fully prepared, sound confident, and show you have knowledge about things like how you know it will be painful, mentally taxing, and it's a huge procedure. Be realistic with your expectations.

So it's less of your asking them if you can have the procedures, and more "I need them, to be okay in my skin".

Thank you for your ask, and the appreciation 😊.

You got this! I have faith in you.

Love,

-Zestual 💙 🩷

P.s if you have any more questions or concerns please feel free to contact me (or if my wording is confusing). I do not mind answering questions one bit.

[throwaway-yandere]

I want to be honest (no this has nothing to do with fics lmao youll get it as scheduled)

This post is an explanation as to why I consider myself as "retired". I know I've said it's because of studies, but that'll be 1/3 of the truth. I want to talk about the true three real reasons why, and I'll do my best to be straight to the point. This isn't a cry for help (I swear to the heavens it is NOT). This is just to clear out assumptions.

Here's the other two reasons:

Grief & Mental Health

Writing itself & interactions

Grief & Mental Health:

I'll pour my heart out, so I'm sorry if it's long. As I said, I'll be straight to the point, so: my grandfather around the first week of June. I remember how I received the news so vividly. I was listening to Two Birds while washing the dishes at 12 AM. My mom went down the stairs with my father, crying as they tell me the news that he's gone. We drove half an hour to the hospital where I get to pat his head one last time. I remember mindlessly wandering the hospital halls— I remember mindlessly using the free alcohol attached to a wall. I remember breaking down as I realized I just cleansed away the hand that last had contact with him. I remember every detail, from the ride home where I messaged my good college friend to tell her that she needs to be a good nurse because the public healthcare system in the country is awful. I remember silently hating everyone and everything. I remember thinking about how cruel it was that life took away the one relative who genuinely cared about me and I was sure was related to me by blood. I remember thinking how much I'm distant to everyone else on my mother's side except him. I remember feeling so empty. I remember not sleeping for two days straight.

But let's back track for a bit. Before his death, I did have one final conversation with him. He was sedated and tubed miserably. Deep down, I knew his time was coming. So, I just made jokes about how grandma was growing senile and mistook me for a nurse for ten whole minutes. Then, I thanked him for everything he's done, and told him I'll become an engineer. Just like him.

And now here I am, dorming 3 hours away from home. I dormed because I had nearly decided my life meant nothing after lack of sleep through daily commutes and workloads. But I am lonely and unwell. I don't know what I want in life. I don't know what I actually want to be, but I already shifted courses as a chemical engineering student. I was so stressed to the point I've accidentally cried to my chem professor in a phone call. I don't know what I'm doing with my scholarship and education if it's for no one. And I am scared that I'm draining my parents' already limited resource for nothing. That I'm wasting the scholarship my country had given me nothing. That I am wasting my people's taxes for nothing.

It was only when another friend told me that I seem to live my life based on other's decisions and opinions did I notice just why I'm incredibly miserable.

I know I don't have dreams for myself. And even if I did, how the hell will writing and drawing feed me in the future when the industry in this 3rd world country is absolute garbage?

I guess Asians really do the things they hate so they can get what they love. Okay, I'll stop making jokes.

I miss my long-time friends, Phitre and Frost. I also miss my old blockmates when I was a BSEd-Math student. I am too used to eating alone, studying alone, walking alone. I am too used to being an outsider. But I'm not used to silence. I'm not too used to hearing actual silence.

All I have is Discord and Messenger.

And even then, it's quiet.

Writing itself & Interactions

I love writing and drawing. I just hate posting it at this point, which is why I made another account that's purely interaction-based.

I love writing a lot— my happiness is turning shtposts into something terrifying. I don't like writing romances, I like the thrill instead. I like laughing like I'm Hubert from FE:TH after thinking of an evil plot twist.

But I hate posting it. Because I know, no matter how much effort I put it, it's not enough. No matter how long it is— no matter if you learned basic coding for it— drew art— made interactive google forms— it's just not enough. I literally made two long separate fics with different endings depending on your choices and it just performs less on something I didn't actually put anything on.

Lord.

Lord I hate Creative Differences for that. I finally understood why bands hate their hit songs because of that lol.

Don't comment something like "oh, you content creators are just whining—" I am whining. Why? Because we don't treat artists and writers like they're human enough. Like we're just uploading content and that we don't want to hear what the others have to say. I remember there was one ask telling me how they're gonna miss traumatizing their friend— and I'm just sitting there wondering "why didn't YOU tell me their reactions? Why are you making me feel like I'm talking to a brick wall for 2k words and more?" It's not their fault. I am not mad at this anon. They've done nothing wrong, but lord do I hate feeling like this.

I could follow "part 2???" requests, finish all my drafts for the events. But I know. I know the chances of the person who requested them won't actually answer after all the effort.

[insert Berkut's "all that effort, what is it all for?!" voice line from FE:Echoes here to lighten the mood]

But that aside.

It's just silence. Just notes, when I feel like comments are what matters more. I'm used to being alone, but I really hate silence. I hate it so much. That's why I'm always so grateful to the people who do interact often, and don't say that's not true because I can prove it. You can see me make content just for them, dedicate fics, art, everything. I love them, I love the "noise".

I know we all have lives, I know we're all busy, I know. I respect your time, I respect you.

And I think it's just time I respect myself as well.

So that's why I'm retired. No pressure on events (idol and letters), no pressure on anything. I'm actually taking my time in End Of Year Blues. It's nice.

Edit: I forgot to mention

My father hates that I write. He constantly tells me to stop it, to prioritize my academics, when writing is my only way of coping.

So.

Haha, what the hell do I even do anymore, right?

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

if touch prompts are open: spooning with whichever tma ship you're feeling at the moment please?

This got a little angsty

~*~

"I don't like this place."

Michael's voice was as unexpected as his arms sliding around Gerry's middle, and his tall frame pressing against his back. Gerry screwed his eyes closed, a tiny piece of him regretting getting involved with one of the best Assistants the Magnus Institute had ever had. How else could Michael have found him?

"Why are you here?" he asked dully.

"Because you're here," Michael answered, tucking his face into Gerry's dark hair. "Where else would I be?" One of his hands found Gerry's, fingers squeezing his. "Why are you here?"

"This is where I go when I feel like shit," Gerry admitted, feeling like his chest was cracking open with each word. "I spent so much of my life feeling like shit in this place, so..." he trailed off, hoping Michael could understand. Misery felt more familiar in his childhood bed.

Michael hummed, his legs sliding up on the dusty bedcovers and pushing Gerry's up with them. Usually it was Gerry clinging to his back, as Michael slept deeply in an impossibly tight curl. But now it was Michael closing in around him, surrounding him completely in his embrace, and the dark horrible thoughts in Gerry's head were almost drowned out by the feeling. "Do you know why you're feeling that way?"

"Because everything in my life besides you is pretty much awful." Gerry sucked in a deep breath, his chest feeling heavy and tight. "I never know what I'm doing, or if I'm missing something I'm supposed to be doing, and I have no idea how to do what I am supposed to do. I have so many questions but I don't know who to ask."

He knew...these were the things his parents were supposed to teach him. Like how to do taxes, and take care of himself, and how to be a proper person instead of a broken brittle shell. Someone who would be a worthy partner for the incredibly understanding man who was still pressed to his back and holding him tight. There was so much, too much, and he had no one to help him, and even if he did he couldn't be a burden on them anyway.

Especially not Michael.

Michael sighed. "I understand that," he agreed. "It can all be very...overwhelming." The hand pressed to his middle stroked a calm slow pattern, up and down. It was probably the best hug of Gerry's life, if only he were in the mood to appreciate it.

Gerry could have hardly imagined, in all those awful years of trying to sleep under his mother's roof, that there could ever be a boy in his bed with him, much less one like Michael. He could never have imagined anyone willingly following him into his personal hell of Pinhole Books and not immediately being scared off. It felt like such an indulgent fantasy, but it was real.

He could almost sense Michael studying his room, taking in the posters and art on the walls. The mural Gerry had added to on his worst days, when he felt similar to how he currently was, and had no other outlet. It practically dripped with his pain.

"I know you said this is where you go when you...feel bad, but can we go back to mine? Please?" Michael accompanied his request with a deep squeeze. "I can take care of you there. You might not be so miserable there too."

Gerry almost refused on instinct. He was no good company when he felt this way. And yet, if the situation was reversed, he knew he'd bend over backwards to make Michael feel better. He'd light himself on fire for Michael if he needed brightness in his life. And it seemed that somehow, impossibly, Michael felt the same way, for him. That was one of those things that...couples did. Support each other. Work things through. Stick around. Gerry knew all of that, but applying it to himself was...difficult.

"Yes," he quietly agreed, and felt Michael sigh with relief. Michael sat up and pulled him up with him, his gentle hand cupping Gerry's chin to tilt his head back so they were eye to eye. Michael looked so worried, but still so lovely as he kissed Gerry's temple.

"It's going to be okay," Michael promised, his breath brushing over Gerry's skin. "We'll get through this. I'll help you however I can. Just..." he gave Gerry another comforting squeeze around the middle. "Come home with me now. Please."

God.

"Okay," Gerry agreed weakly, his chest feeling thick with complicated emotions. Michael's words didn't solve anything, not really, but they did make him feel a little lighter, just a bit. Enough to make him believe everything would be okay.

[ryuzakemo128]

I want to be something

Content Warning: Implication of masterbation.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x You (Female Reader)

Summary: You're in a creative rut, you don't want to do much of anything, and the entire day is spent trying to get inspired by something or someone.

Your job was taxing enough how it is, when inspiration took hold, a lot of other things were left behind and taking care of yourself. You bought a caravan last month, you were going to decorate it in the hopes it would spark something new for your work. You didn't want to live in a trailer, in your mind it would become a last resort, not the first one.

Not only that, but you met Eddie when you were studying for your final exams, it was his second time held back in grade 12. You two couldn't be far more different, he was the life of the party, you were the one who hid in the corner. You were a trad goth, make up dark like the ace of spaces, your outfits dark and flowy, your hair black as night. Eddie, on the other hand, was a metalhead, leather jacket, denim vest, passion for Dungeons & Dragons.

You were keen on straightening out your curly hair for a short while. Trying to fit in without trying to fit in at the same time. Confusing to yourself just like it confused everyone else around you. When you were touching up your black eyeliner in front of your locker mirror, you heard a familiar voice. You pretended you did not hear it and continued to apply your make-up. You didn't want someone to interrupt what you were doing because your train of thought would be lost in the wind like a piece of crêpe paper at a festival.

After a while the voice got louder, the louder it got, the closer it was, sooner or later you wouldn't be able to ignore it anymore. Putting on a dark crimson red lip liner on your two toned rose-tinted plump lips. Before adding an ebony coloured lipstick to create a vampire-like look. Finally, you put on your favourite black lace choker, the one that made your neck look pale and fragile. You felt ready to face the world again. You took a deep breath and put your make-up back into your bag.

When you turned around, you were met with a familiar sight. Eddie, leaning against the lockers, hands in his pockets, his long dark hair falling into his face, as he looked at you with those piercing chocolate brown eyes. His lips curved up into a smile. Eddie thought, 'Well, well, look who decided to grace us with their 'presence'.

You hesitated for a moment, not sure how to react. You hadn't expected to see him here. "Oh, hey Eddie," you said, trying to sound casual. "What are you doing here?"

Eddie smiled wider. "Just waiting for my next class, why? Were you expecting someone else?"

"Pfft, why would I?" You weren't going to admit that you were heading to the library to study during lunch. Why would you?

Eddie chuckled. "Well, you know, just making sure I wasn't interrupting anything important."

"Studying is important." You murmured slightly, looking back down at your phone in your hands, even though it was off. You'd rather stare at the blank screen than make eye contact with him. "But it's not like anyone cares if I'm here or not." You shrugged, making it look like you didn't care.

Eddie chuckled again. "Oh, come on, you know I'm just messing with you. So, really, what are you doing here? I'm sure there's a more interesting reason than just studying."

"I have reached possible creative burnout." You simply stated, it was the truth. You had been trying to get started on the renovation of your caravan. But every time you went there, you just couldn't focus. "I can't get into the headspace. It's like my creative juices are dried up."

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I see. So, you're saying you're not here to study?" He teased.

"Studying has helped before, so why wouldn't it help now?" You protested.

Eddie laughed, shaking his head. "You're too hard on yourself. Maybe you should take a break from it all, you know? Clear your head, do something different."

"I've already tried getting high last night. So, that didn't work either." You said. It made him laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "It's just… I never pictured you as the kind of person who would do drugs."

"I don't do them willy-nilly, you know? It was a one-time thing." You admitted. "Anyway, thanks for the advice. Maybe I'll take a break and try something different today. I just need to find something to spark my creativity again. Maybe I just need a hot bath."

Eddie laughed. "A hot bath? Really? That's your plan for sparking creativity?"

"Well it wouldn't just be a hot bath either." You answered, the suggestive note of possibly touching yourself made your cheeks heat up. If he didn't get the hint, then there was no way you could spell it out for him.

[Eddie's Point of view]

Eddie thought, 'Oh, so that's where her mind goes. Not that I blame her, but I didn't expect that kind of honesty from her. Maybe I should have. It's just… interesting.' "Here's my number, if you ever need someone to talk to or just… you know." He hesitated, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Or not. It's up to you." He shrugged, trying to play it off casually. "Anyway, I should get going. My next class is about to start." He glanced at his watch, then back at her.

She nodded, feeling a little flustered. "Yeah, you should. Thanks for the advice, though."

Eddie smiled, giving you a small wave as he walked away. You watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. Part of you was glad that he didn't seem to be interested in anything more than friendship, but another part of you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. You hadn't expected him to be interested in you romantically, but still… it was kind of nice to think about.

My other stuff: Masterlist 01 / Masterlist 02 / Vikings Masterlist

Divider Used: Link

Header Used: Link

[littlesheeneffect]

She's My Husband (Part 8) ❤️

Miles Maitland x yn (AFAB Genderfluid)

I was quickly set on the couch, Miles instantaneouslu fauxly checking me over as the red head stood to straighten himself. Miles' eyes never left mine as he did, an odd pleadfull passion in them that I'd never seen before. One I could only closely place on... jealousy?

As soon as he stood straight, the Bobby's began speaking with him, reluctantly pulling him to sit at the coffee table. Thus giving the ambitious mustacheod man the perfect opportunity to sit opposite me, and begin entertaningly visiting.

As time carried on, Miles was quite distracted with us. Him and they weren't talking of anything of much importance- just salaries, taxes, and home life really.

My fellow did a great job of entertainment on my behalf however, funnily, it turned out his name was Ginger. "Now, watch closely dearest- the coin shall disappear" he grinned, as he pulled a large coin from his pocket.

Magic tricks were always a beloved past time, and I must confess- never had I seen anyone perform them better than Ginger that eve. He used the most common things about us and charmingly manipulated them to his desire. Cards were by my favorite. In all honestly, I found I was enjoying myself.

The night carried on till about a quarter past seven, Miles warming the police a bit with liberal glasses of brandy. They had grown a bit tipsy and began telling about all sorts of odd things.

Ginger had grown comfortable with speaking openly at that point, and began telling me of who he was in relation to the case. "Oh no, I have met Aggie and Nina many times. I basically know all about gang. Yes, in fact Nina truly considered me for suitor before closing that cheap Adam." "Cheap Adam?" I nearly exclaimed, almost forgetting my role. "Yes, no offense intended but he is quite the jobless hobo in my opinion," he told emotionless. "I'd think not sir- Adam is a very good man and loves Nina very much," I stated much more collected.

Ginger just hummed in reply, before studying my face for a moment.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, before he at long last muttered, "My- and to think you could possibly want to be a man." The blood drained from my face and I crashed into the realization that he truly knew who I was. The statement could've been a play, a fishing, or a an honest reaction to an abstract statement of Aggie's- yet, I felt the heat of my face increasing by the moment.

I quickly seen that he held the statement as true and continued on unaffected. "My dear, you only wish such things because you have never been truly treated as the lady you are." He grinned warmly at the end, and leaned in to stroke the side of my ever reddening cheek.

"Wh-whatever are you talking about?" I attemped to continue my role- a mix of raging anger and lustrious allure both threatening my continuance. He laughed lightly and retracted his hand. "You deserve a real gentleman y/n, this twinkle-toes Maitland boy won't be man enough for such lady as yourself. You need to feel like a woman, be treated so. You know that deep down, my lovey."

Though his advancing address was awfully attractive, I had never felt more infuriated and offended. For a moment, my act was gone.

"How dare you- and don't call me that," I exclaimed though the Bobby's were much too brand-ied to notice and continued talking to the ever bored Miles- who also didn't notice. "I'm sorry to razzle you my dear. I just couldn't help but tell you the truth of the matter," he cheekily smirked. I calmed myself a bit and said in reply, "The truth of the matter is I have a love and am quite comfortable with he & I the way we are- thank you very much."

He grinned and resumed his prior position, gracefully folding the cards between his hands impressively. "What is your role in this all?" I at last asked, though the question was quite dangerous in itself, I wantd to know.

He maintained his demeanor and stated, "Aggie signed me as her representative citizen to share the unfortunate news." I hummed in response, and looked about the room. Ginger then commenced to tell of one of his adventures during college to Africa, which to my frustrations- was very captivating.

Miles was beginning to grow quite restless as one of the cops dozed off loudly and the other went on about things. But at one point the Bobby took hold of his shoulder and began a statement that quickly captured Miles' attention.

"Laddie, the miss of yours..." he trailed off, causing Miles to gaze at me for a moment and back to the policeman interestedly. "... one like 'er only comes along once in yer life, boy. I see tha way you eye 'er. An' the way she looks to you. You love 'er, lad. And she thinks the moon o' you. Don't let that ever go. No ma'er want comes- an' let me tell you, after near thir'y years of bein' married, toubles are alway'a coming. But hold on to her lad, and she'll hold on ta you, and toge'er there ain't nothing that'll bring ya down. Not even death 'erself." Miles blinked and brokenly nodded.

"An, and" the Bobby added, "Bring her joy in the things that mat'er most lad. They aint jus' flowers, but holding 'er hand. Not jus' tha bed, but praying with 'er every chance ya get. Not jus' proper laughs, but huggin' 'er after tha bigges' argue'n you ever had in yer life. That's what gets ya through lad. Love'n no ma'er what."

With that he man stood and shook the other Bobby awake. Ginger started up and they bid us all a good evening as we walked them to the doorstep. "Ya mind what I said now laddie," the one Bobby turned to us, "Good nigh' miss." Ginger mischieveiously grinned a, "Till next time lovey," and they were gone.

Miles and I stood in the entrance in silent shock of it all for a moment.

"Well, am I exhausted!" I finally sighed. 'You don't say," he said almost question-like, as we finally tore our eyes from the door. "And my goodness dear, you should be an actor!" He exclaimed causing us to laugh as we both collapsed onto the couch into eachothers tured embrace.

...... To Be Continued.....

[monsterfloofs]

Can I request some more stories with luxe plz?

Luxe (Gender Fluid Concubus) x Reader (Sfw)

(Hello!! Thank you for this note! I am so glad you like my Luxe. Here is a little short story I whipped up because I couldn't sleep ahah! I was really sick a few weeks ago, and whenever I feel abnormal I study how I feel and think so I can more accurately portray it in writing! >:) Also, I had a dream about this little story and I typically don't get to see my characters in my dreams?? So this made me super duper extra happy AAAAAAH, and was very motivating for me to get this written! I hope you enjoy! ♡)

Feeling unwell went from sniffling and coughing one day, to having a full blown bout of sickness the next morning. Coughing and hacking so much it made your chest hurt and your head spin. Your temple throbbed and tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you drew the curtains and retreated back to bed. Rising to your feet was an undertaking. It made you dizzy, and a new wash of pain bored into your head.

There was no way you could go to work today. Yesterday you had felt the sickness creeping up on you, but the signs were manageable and kept working. After all, the castle was a busy place, and there was much to be done. Still, you hadn't expected to be knocked down so fast the next day. You reached for the mirror at your bedside. Blinking slowly as the soft glow made you squint your eyes. Drawing your finger across the surface, which rippled softly at your touch.

"Send a message to Luxe. . . Tell them that I won't be able to help them today.." Of course this is when a tickle rises in your throat and you cough to try and clear it. For a solid moment all you can do is cough, whatever upset your throat refused to be soothed. You couldn't cough deep enough, but the tickle managed to subside for you to rasp out.

"I'm sorry, I got sick. I just am not feeling good enough today." You ended the message with a swipe of your finger, then put the mirror face down on the table. You blow your nose with a tissue before rolling over in bed, pulling the covers over your head in an attempt to block out as much light as you can. The afternoon was spent in and out of consciousness, with the waste paper basket and night stand filling up with balled up tissues. Between sleeping, sneezing and coughing you did little else. Everytime you woke up, you pleaded with your body to go back to sleep. Being awake just felt too taxing, you had tried reading but the words floated off the page and it hurt your eyes to keep them open for too long.

Between sleeping you startle awake to a knock at your door. Hastily rubbing your eyes as a figure peeks around the corner at you.

"Did I wake you up?"

"It's okay," The words slither out in a slur between chapped lips. As Luxe tentatively steps inside, carrying a tray of soup.

"Oh darling, you look miserable."

"I feel mis. . . miserable" You agreed weakly. You blink slowly, and in between your eyes opening and closing Luxe crossed the room. From setting the tray down to pressing a cool washcloth against your forehead. You breathe a ragged hum, managing a thank you before your body wants to cough again.

"What can I get you love? What sounds good?"

"Nothing," You whisper, Luxe's painted lips purse as you take a breath. "I just wanna sleep."

"Alright," The butler murmurs gently, "Alright love, I will let you sleep." They put a little bell onto your nightstand. "Ring this if you need anything." They command sternly, and you nod your eyes refusing to stay open any longer.

It was only when you were drifting in and out of consciousness again, throwing blankets on and off between being too hot and too cold that you realized they referred to you as 'love'. Your brain was a little too sluggish to make much sense of the new term of endearment. Nevertheless, the name made you feel both cared for and guilty. They had stopped in the midst of their busy schedule to make you food you hadn't eaten. You tried some of the soup, which to your surprise was still hot. The warm liquid felt soothing to your throat. From a glance you could see vegetables and chicken floating in the broth. It should have been delicious but you just couldn't taste it, and found your stomach rejecting the soup after a few spoonfuls.

It was the middle of the night before you felt somewhat active. The headache was a dull throb behind your eyes as you slouched out of bed. Shoving tissues in your pocket as you wandered your way down the stairs. You felt groggy and out of touch, so you moved sluggishly and deliberately toward the kitchen. Watching your feet upon the stairs, clutching the hand railing tightly.

Luxe was in the kitchen, and their head jerks up, her expression rearranging into surprise as you shuffle in. "I thought I told you to ring for me,"

"It's. You're. So busy." You manage to warble out, was stringing words together always so hard? Your eyebrows push together as you wash your hands in the sink. You have to stop halfway through drying your hands to dab at your nose, which sends you back over to the sink. Unceremoniously stuffing a roll of tissue up your nose to stop the leak. Luxe lets out a soft huff, pushing back their immaculate bangs with their fingers.

"Darling, you know that you are not an imposition, don't you? You're sick for goodness sake."

You look down, running your thumb back and forth on the hand towel. Back and forth, back and forth. "Maybe." You croak, your eyes watering with tears. Luxe studies your face, a frown tugging on their lips. They cross over to you putting an arm around your shoulder which makes you flinch.

"You'll get s-"

"Sh,sh,sh." She shushes you and gives you a small kiss on your forehead. It makes you blink as more tears dribble from your eyes.

"I know you are perfectly independant, love. Perfectly capable of doing things on your own. Let me take care of you. Just a little."

You couldn't look them in the eyes. Staring at the floor before giving a weak nod. The arm around your shoulder slides away as they drift to the ice box, their tail twitching as they walk.

"I was going to save this for a treat, but I think this might taste good to you." You fidget with the towel again, peeking up at them and staring at the box of ice cream in their hands.

"Will you. . . have some with me?" They beam at you, already reaching for two bowls.

"But of course."

♡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡♡

Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar! I also take writing and art commissions on kofi! (♡⸃ ◡ ⸂♡)

[wizardingworldlibrary]

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or: The story of Sudan, 1925.

Charlie Weasley and the Suspicious Rat (ao3) - hells_half_acre M, 25k

Summary: Charlie is just trying to get through sixth year and decide whether he wants to chase after a promising Quidditch career or pursue a summer internship at a dragon reserve. He doesn’t need to get involved with the twins’ latest torment of Percy, which for some reason involves accusing him of having a secret boyfriend named Peter… but there’s something about it that irks him, so, like a good brother, he intervenes – and accidentally changes everything.

Envy and Manipulations (ao3) - r_rrabbit draco/ginny M, 97k

Summary: Sixteen year old Ginny Weasley has her first summer job at the Folk Hills Country Club, the most prestigious high society club in the wizarding world. When Draco Malfoy comes home from his summer internship at the Ministry of Magic things get complicated, dark, and twisted. A chapter by chapter rewrite of my story on FF.

Harry Potter : Flash forward (ao3) - AbrahamSmith hermione/harry, daphne/harry T, 26k

Summary: A blend of the Reptilia28 and CoastalFirebird time travel challenges; Harry, Hermione and Daphne Greengrass die during the final battle and are sent back in time to set things back on track.

Hothouse Flowers and Hot Hot Showers (ao3) - azalea_larae, boshspice draco/harry, parvati/ron, hermione/oc, neville/luna E, 101k

Summary: The eighth-year Muggle Studies class is spending five weeks at an American Muggle university. Harry’s assigned to room with Draco. And to make things, well, harder, there’s an inconvenient side effect to not using magic for a prolonged period of time . . .

Hurt Him and You Die (ao3) - maraudersaffair draco/harry E, 21k

Summary: Draco is a sexy mob boss. He is also the most powerful man in Britain. Harry is the poor uni student who saves his life.

Might as Well Face it, I'm Addicted to You (ao3) - ddelusionall draco/harry, neville/ginny, neville/harry/ginny, hermione/ron E, 26k

Summary: After a curse knocks Harry out of the Aurors, Harry agrees to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. He somehow completely forgot that Malfoy is the Potions Master. And Malfoy is Hot. He can also help Harry with the curse by making a potion for him, but that’s secondary. Did Harry mention that Malfoy is Hot?

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Harry has a physical disability in this fic, a curse that has made it very hard for him to do almost anything without pain. There is recreational drug use in this fic, but also brief mentions of a previous pain med addiction.

Harry and Nev kiss A LOT in this fic. Drarry is endgame, but I am a huge proponent of friends being able to kiss each other. Also, Nev is Hot.

Pink Aster - Days Gone By (ao3) - Anonymous snape/charlie E, 45k

Summary: Fire melts ice, or so they say. Severus just hadn't thought that that applied to the ice in one's soul as well.

Or When Charlie Weasley came to Hogwarts to accompany the dragons for the triwizard turnament, he met Severus Snape. But can a short affair turn into a lovestory?

Queen of the Weeds (ao3) - apliddell draco/harry E, 61k

Summary: The Wizengamot in its wisdom determined at his trial that Draco ought to return to Hogwarts to scrape together a few NEWTs and perhaps even a sense of community and fellow feeling amongst all the other children, rather ragged round the edges--and a good deal in the middle--battered and burnt and even orphaned in the war. And with a choice between the school he had outgrown and a cosy cell in Azkaban, Draco plumped for school.

Draco returns to Hogwarts for 8th year and finds himself a pariah. To his surprise, Harry Potter is the only person who seems to want anything to do with him.

Serpent's Heir and the Warden of Light (ao3) - zezedoesshit hermione/tom E, 312k

Summary: After the battle, Hermione Granger wakes up on a peaceful beach, caught somewhere between life and death. She meets Merlin, who shocks her with the truth—she’s his only surviving child. To stop the chaos that shaped her world, Merlin sends her on a mission back in time to Tom Riddle’s school days. With a year of magical training and ancient secrets under her belt, Hermione must prevent his descent into darkness. It’s a chance to rewrite history, but changing the past is no walk on the beach.

Tarry, Tarry, Wait For Me (ao3) - toomuchplor draco/harry E, 8k

Summary: "I can't ask it of you," Draco says, quick and awkward, "I just thought you should know, I thought you needed to know, but none of this is your fault."

"I'll do it," says Harry, unthinkingly. "Of course I'll do it."

Underneath it all, the truth is that Harry isn't actually being selfless or altruistic in any of this.

The Heart's Desire (ao3) - S4vvyg1rl hermione/harry T, 32k

Summary: What if a muggleborn witch had found Harry before the Durselys got the chance to take him in? What if he grew up in a happy home with his own friends and views of the magical world? Elise Clarke finds the young Harry and is visited by the spirit of Lily Potter who begs her to take him in as her own son. Find out how the Boy Who Lived fares with these new circumstances.

The Stowaway Malfoy (ao3) - writetimewrongmuse hermione/draco, harry/ginny, theodore/george E, 143k

Summary: Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy are on a mission to set up their parents. What better time to parent-trap them together than the week-long Christmas Holiday Hermione has been planning for three months?

You're Not Going Mad (ao3) - hogsheadandtum luna/harry G, 78k

Summary: Luna Lovegood wore to Harry that he wasn't going mad, but why does Harry feel as though she might be wrong about this one?

[thevoiceofthebard]

Chapter 18 - Balgruuf II: Dragon Rising

Fredas 22nd of Last Seed 4E201 Evening

Balgruuf the Greater

"You heard the summons. What else could it mean?"

I never thought I would willingly wish for a return to the tedium of daily life. Of taxes and tariffs and petty farmer disputes. By Talos, I'd even prefer the veiled threats I've gotten from Ulfric these past few months. Politics, I can handle. I've years of experience dealing with diplomats, insults, and compromises. But this week of dragons and barrows and... It's all so overwhelming. I thought I might have had a reprieve when a scout returned with news of the dragon's demise, and the survival of Irileth, and of Uthgerd and Talao. I'd dismissed the rest of his report as a flight of fancy, or a hallucination, until...

"The Greybeards..."

I could still feel their call reverberating in some deep part of my being. The Voice is a blessing ingrained in all Nords, though it is something that takes years and longer to manifest. A gift from Kynareth herself. Or so the stories say. I made the pilgrimage of the Seven Thousand Steps once in my youth, but I had already too many commitments to consider studying under their tutelage. Nor do I believe I would have had the temperament for such training. I'm too overfond of speaking when it suits me.

"We were just talking about you. My brother needs a word with you."

And now, the moment of truth. Hrongar sends Talao and Uthgerd to me. I'm eager to hear my suspicions confirmed. Strangely, the two do not seem as though they'd just slain a dragon. Or perhaps not so strange, considering. To be sure, they are both covered in grime and ash, exhausted and triumphant, but it's an undertone to a sense of... bewilderment. Confusion and perhaps a bit of fear. The Breton in particular looks to be in distress, as though he can't focus on any one thing in particular.

I decide to feign ignorance, keen to hear a firsthand account. "So... What happened at the watchtower? Was the dragon there?"

"The tower was destroyed," Uthgerd says, "but we killed the dragon. I damn near cut its head off."

I'd think her bragging if my scout hadn't said the same. "I knew I could count on Irileth. But there must be more to it than that." An awkward pause. Neither seem willing to talk about it for some reason. "Did something... strange happen when the dragon died?"

"...Aye. When the dragon died... I absorbed some kind of power from it." To my eternal surprise, it was not Uthgerd who spoke, but Talao. Everyone in the room is stunned. Everyone here knows what it means.

"So it's true. The Greybeards were summoning you. You're... Dragonborn."

I can count on one hand the number of times my hall has been completely silent but for the crackling of the hearth fire. It always seems louder than the usual chatter somehow. It never lasts for long. Everyone explodes into chatter at once, cries of confusion, anger, "Impossible!"

"Pardon me, Jarl," Talao manages to make himself heard over the commotion "But how is that possible?"

"Well, tell me what you know of the legend of the Dragonborn, Talao. You are the storyteller here."

"I... Well... Dragonborn is a term used to describe the Septim dynasty of the Empire. A blessing from Akatosh, that those whose veins flowed with the blood of dragons remained in covenant with the god, beginning with St. Alessia's founding of the First Empire, and ending with the death of Martin Septim at the hands of Mehrunes Dagon at the end of the Third Era. Those are the documented 'Dragonborn Emperors.'"

"True, but spare us the history lesson." He puzzles me. He's become increasingly uncomfortable as the conversation goes on. "Why are you skirting the issue, Talao?"

"I'm not! I just... The Dragonborn also refers to a warrior, or rather, warriors of ancient Nordic legend who could... Absorb the souls of dragons slain in battle, gaining their knowledge and power. But I recall no pact-making, nor am I descended from the Septim bloodline! I'm not even..."

"What, not a warrior?" I ask heatedly.

"...a Nord," he finishes lamely.

I lean back, looking at Talao over steepled fingers. Why he continued to deny the obvious baffles me; what else could explain the spectacle earlier, or the call? "The Greybeards are masters of 'The Way of the Voice.' They live in seclusion, high on the slopes of the Throat of the World. The Dragonborn," I raise my hand to stifle any objections, "is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice - the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or Shout. IF you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use that gift."

My brother, ever excitable, interjects. "Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun? That was the Voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar. This hasn't happened in... Centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned, when he was still Talos of Atmora."

"Calm yourself, Hrongar. What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as he may be, I don't see any signs of him being this, what, Dragonborn." Shor's bones, does Proventus never keep counsel to himself?

"Nord nonsense? Why, you puffed up, ignorant..." Hrongar looks angry enough to tear Avenicci's head clean from his shoulders. And I must say, I mirror the sentiment. "These are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the First Empire!"

While seeing Proventus cower before the rage of my brother is entertaining, it would be poor form to allow his anger to get the better of him. Especially with guests present. "Hrongar, don't be so hard on Avenicci."

For once, Proventus wisely backs down. "I meant no disrespect, of course." Liar. "It's just... What do these Greybeards want with him?"

"That's the Greybeards' business. Not ours." Everyone was looking at Talao now. He still seems unsure, but far less uncomfortable than before. I suppose, as a bard, he is more than used to being the center of attention. "Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they, of all people, think you are Dragonborn, who are we to argue?"

"I suppose, one way or another, they'll have answers I need to hear. I hope. It's as though..." Talao shakes his head. "Forgive me, I'd prefer not to speak of this now."

"I understand. One last thing, Talao. The dragon; was it the same one you saw at Helgen?"

He shakes his head. "Nay. Mirm... This dragon was a sort of bronze color. The one at Helgen was pitch-black, with glowing red eyes."

So it is as we feared then. One dragon could be coincidence, but two different dragons? "My thanks. Go to High Hrothgar. Learn what the Greybeards can teach you. But, before you do..." I stand, and descend the steps. "You've done a great service for me and my city. Both of you. By my right as Jarl, I name you both Thanes of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant." Uthgerd seems astonished, and Talao nods, as though perhaps he expected something. "I regret that the matters of your housecarls and badges of office may take a few days to settle, but your actions are deserving of all I can give you; it would not feel right to delay a reward for any reason. You both have gone above and beyond what was required of you, and I speak for all of Whiterun when I say that we are honored to have you as Thanes of our city."

"I... I know not what to say my Jarl," Uthgerd stutters. "Thank you."

Talao inclines his head respectfully. "Passing gracious, my Jarl, I humbly accept."

A wide smile crosses my face. "Now come! Enough of this heavy talk. We have this day slain a dragon, and must celebrate properly! Let's to the Bannered Mare, before Irileth returns and tries to keep me away from the festivities. All hail Uthgerd and Talao, slayers of dragons!"

For such a small group, the cheer is strong and vigorous. Even Farengar joins us as we walk down the steps to leave the hall. Uthgerd seems proud enough, but underneath Talao's cheerful face, I can see the undercurrent of uncertainty lingers. For good reason. A Dragonborn, in this day and age. I'm sure this is what I sensed in him our first meeting, this destiny of his. But the question lingers; why bestow such a gift upon a mortal now, of all times? To slay one dragon? No. Something far greater lurks over the horizon. Talao knows it, and I know it.

Ah, well. Heavy thoughts for another day. Tonight, I plan to drink as much as I can before Irileth spoils my fun. I see little enough of my people these days. If my hangover is as strong as Vignar Gray-Mane's, I'll consider the night a success. And, hopefully, distract myself for at least one night.

A/N: Last "canon" chapter for a while. Slight hints to the nature of Dragon Souls in this fic are being dropped, but any true explanation will be quite far off still. Jarl Balgruuf adheres to the Imperial pantheon of the Eight Divines, though it is known that he also secretly worships Talos. But as a good politician, he must put up a front for the Aldmeri. Uthgerd was glanced over for reason. Namely, that reason being that Balgruuf was way more interested in Talao at this point in time. For those who question why Balgruuf entrusted Talao with his task... well, why does he trust any protagonist with it? Doesn't matter what kind of character you roll, or how you appear, you'll be sent on a mission for merely having survived Helgen. So, there must be another factor at play. Just instincts.

Chapter 17 - Whiterun I: Dragon Rising x Chapter 19 - Uthgerd V: The Way Of The Voice

[bots-and-cons]

Sorry, more venting... again

I can't fucking deal with this shit. My housing benefits were cut by about 300 euros and I'm pretty deep in shit because of that, or at least I'm going to be. I was barely getting by before and now I need to pull 300e out of my ass every month? Hahah, not fucking possible. I might have to make some drastic changes, like move into a smaller apartment alone in my town, or move to the city my school is in. It would save me some money every month if I could get an apartment near my school, but the apartments there are fuckin expensive, or at least so I've understood. I guess I'm gonna have to start looking though.

I hate living on government benefits, but I also know I'm not able to work AND study at the same time, so I don't really have any other choice. I really should have just saved all my tax returns I got in august and not spent a cent extra. I was under the impression they wouldn't be able to cut my housing benefits more than like 50 euros, but guess again motherfucker. I already raised my brother's rent, but it seems I'm gonna have to double it from what it was originally, if I want to be able to get by.

I hate change, the thought of having to move makes me want to puke, cry and throw something. I've lived at this apartment for the last 6 years of my life and quite honestly, the best years of my life have been here. The worst years have been here too probably, but they're far gone. I guess this autumn is gonna bring a lot of changes, no matter what I want.

[sureuncertainty]

okay so like how do you set boundaries with an internet friend that you don't wanna be friends with anymore? this is no one here, this is someone i know via instagram and I kinda just realized is actually a dick to me? all the time? and i don't wanna talk to them anymore much less have them edit my book (which they offered to do and I stupidly already said yes)

I don't wanna block them without saying anything, i literally have trauma around being blocked for no reason BUT like is that worse than like? just ghosting them forever? cause that's what I've been kinda doing already

this person CLAIMS to like my book but they've also given me stupid super nit-picky and mean spirited criticisms on it that make no sense that are literally like suspension of disbelief things (also they tried to say that it was "unrealistic" for Cain to not be arrested for tax fraud, which like. buddy you're european and you have no fucking idea what CEO billionaires in the US are fucking capable of getting away with apparently lol)

These criticisms were basically unprompted btw. they were like oh can i make some comments and I said yeah sure thinking it'd be something small and then they proceeded to tell me that my entire story makes no sense and kinda mock it and make fun of it and make me feel dumb

so they made me really insecure about my writing and also literally none of my headmates like them and we get that we can't stop them from reading our book when it's published BUT we just don't want to talk to them about it or have them read it for free

i asked a friend about it and they think they're jealous of me and that's why they say they like my book but are also picking it apart and idk if that's true but I don't think they're like... PURPOSEFULLY being an asshole they just are. i literally dread every message I get from them. OH also they called one of my headmates an ableist slur which like okay fine, it's a common slur that people throw around but it was still hmmmm not great (we are not out as a system on instagram btw)

they send me videos that are completely irrelevant to my interests, they've been BUGGING me about when i'll send them the chapters of silence agenda I told them they could edit (which now will not be happening lol). also our very first conversation was them trying to tell me that studying titanic history doesn't matter WHEN I WAS LITERALLY GRIEVING AFTER THE SUBMERSIBLE DISASTER LAST SUMMER AND VENTING MY FRUSTRATIONS ABOUT IT. and i did snap at them that time and we worked it out and both apologized for making assumptions which was fine but still. like i almost blocked them the moment they sent me that message and now i really really really wish I had bc I feel like i'm in too deep

we also have several mutuals in common and i would worry that if I blocked them on everything, they'd ask one of our common mutuals about it (or a mutual would share my art or something) and they'd realize that I have them blocked, and then i'd have to like. explain myself. and i don't feel comfortable telling those mutuals about it bc i DO NOT want to be that person that's like 'hey jsyk you're following this person who is Problematique' bc i DESPISE when people do that

anyway yeah i just don't know how to handle it and any advice would be appreciated. idk how i've been putting up with this person's bullshit for so long like dear lord i kinda felt like i yanked the wool off my eyes today and realized how fucking awful they are to me