#No one is on but I'm posting this anyway. Alas. The pain of trying to limit your social media to the weekend.

[kwiecista]

I think it's time to reintroduce the idea of Magda having a crush on her best friend (Mr. Hun.gary) but never acting on it because she doesn't want to ruin their friendship even though it has been running strong for over a thousand years slash he made a stupid comment at one point so now she thinks it's no use trying. Also a thousand dollars to the person who will explore that story arc with me, I've been wanting it for ten years.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bound By Blood

Being on your period was already a pain as it is, but accidentally binding yourself to a demon with a menstrual pad was a real cherry on top.

demon!Daemon Targaryen x Reader x bf!Aemond Targaryen | 2k+| cw: fem!reader, modern au, menstruation and its symptoms (duh), bloody depictions, crack fic, dumbass shenanigans, internet translated high Valyrian, typos, etc.

A/N: after reading @happilyhertale's period fic and @lady-phasma's period fic, i remembered a tumblr post i saw a long time ago about how napkins have really pretty designs for no reason cuz ur gonna get blood all over it anyway. as tumblr posts do, it spiraled and someone likened the designs to like a pentagram then someone was like u could accidentally summon a demon, thus this. i really did try to find it but alas i could not

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @ceoofyearning

@targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @pendragora @sloanexx

If you've ever had a hard time with your period, please consider donating €5 to Nour's GoFundMe, as the people in Palestine do not have access to any sort of feminine hygiene products; help her and her family evacuate.

"Lovie?"

"Yeah?"

I put my phone on loud speaker and place it on the side of the sink, "did I tell you to buy macadamia chocolates?"

"... no. I'll get you some."

"And something salty," I sit on the toilet and open my pad packet. I peel the red wrapper off.

"Mmm... crisps?"

"Yeah, the pink one."

"Alright. Anything else, love?"

I change the napkin on my underwear before replying, "mmm... oh! Please read the packaging. I want pads with wings, Aemond, with wings."

"Right. Copy, copy. With wings."

I pull my shorts up and flush the toilet, "thank you, love."

"Mmm. Love you. Bye."

"Bye, love. I love you."

The call ends and I wrap my used napkin in the wrapper of my new pad, rolling it up, and throwing it out. I grab my phone and walk back to my bed.

I huff and get under the sheets, petting the black cat asleep on top of it. Vhagar wags her tail once and I grab my laptop, continuing my binge session.

I wince when I feel a dull pain in my uterus. I pause my show and lean into my pillow, riding out the discomfort.

I moan and begin to heave. My eye twitches at the stabbing sensation. I slowly get out of bed, annoyed by the gush of blood I feel when I move. I make my way to my kitchen and grip on the counter as I prepare a kettle for some tea.

"Stop hating me cause I'm not pregnant," I hiss at my uterus as the pain continues.

I push my weight onto the counter top as I reach for a mug and a tea bag. I huff and screw my eyes. Once the pain subsides enough, I grab my kettle and turn, putting it on the stove. Once the fire is lit, I turn back to grab my mug and place the tea bag in my mug.

Suddenly, the room is thick, the atmosphere is heavy, and there is an inexplicable feeling of dread in my stomach. I feel my body warm and the hairs at the back of my neck raise, and it was not because of my period.

"Iksis ziry iā rūs jaelā?" Is it a baby you want?

I gasp and snap back, pulling my mug to my chest. My eyes widen and my heart leaps into my throat as I behold a towering figure covered in blood. Its body is barely contained in the room; its long neck coils downward to peer at me and its wings are cramped together behind itself. It's as though all the blood in my body drains.

The dragon-like creature chuckles deeply, his golden eyes sparkle, "gaoman jorrāelagon se yknagon hen zūgagon," I do love the smell of fear. It reaches out and delicately scratches its talons on my neck, "but I would not frighten you to death before completing our pact, devoted."

My body is frozen cold in fear as he pulls away. Slowly, its body morphs into a man. The reptilian features and glistening scales where replaced by long, silver hair and plump, smirking lips, all still drenched in blood. His expression mischievous and expectant.

"Ask of me, and see the beauty in thine blood offering to Daemon, The Rogue Prince."

Through barely a breath, in the most strained of voices, I mutter, "w h a t ?"

A rich chuckle bubbles out of his curved lips, "oh, I do loathe the coy and simple-minded. If you wish to amuse me, flatter me. Do not play dumb."

I slowly try to maneuver away from him, "I-" I whisper under sharp breaths, "I don't know what you mean-"

In a rush of either confidence or lunacy, I sprint away from him and run back into the bedroom. I scream and halt in my spot when I collide with the same being's chest.

I feel blood stick to me as I recoil and drop to the floor at the impact. The creature looks down on me and lifts his chin, "what's that then?"

Daemon points to the floor, causing me to look and see nothing but the panels.

Just then, Vhagar awakes and begins to go feral. She hisses loudly at the man, and I scramble to my feet, trying to get to her and calm her down, fearing he blood bathed being would kill her.

Remarkably, it seems I should actually do the opposite as the demon is deterred by Vhagar. He steps back and lowers his gaze. He chuckles dryly as I jump on the bed, going behind Vhagar.

"What is this trickery?"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

He scoffs and I swear his eyes are set ablaze, "I am bound by my sigil, woman, and I smell the blood on it."

My face morphs into bewilderment, "I DID NOT MAKE A BLOOD SACRIFICE-"

"Where is your summoning circle then!" he demands.

Vhagar hisses at his tone, her fur prickling as Daemon steps forward. He stills and draws in a deep breath. I swear his eyes go red for a second.

He points again, this time at me, "your legs."

My eyes widen preternaturally.

"My blood altar is between your thighs."

Meanwhile, Aemond was on the bus when he received a call.

He picks it up, "hel-"

"THERE'S A-" he pulls his phone away from his ear, "-DEMON IN OUR HOME! AEMOND-"

Aemond knits his brows tightly in concern at the sound of sobbing. He pulls his groceries closer to his chest, "honey, what do me--"

"THERE'S A DEMON IN OUR- VHAGAR NO--"

Aemond's heart drops at the sound of the commotion from the other end of the call. He hears cat yowling and objects crashing. He stiffens and speaks as calmly as possible, "I'm coming home. I'm almost there. Can you hear me, I-" the call ends.

By the time he gets home, his defenses are up. The ruckus from the inside is audible from outside the apartment. He holds his groceries in one hand and opens the door, warily entering. He grabs the long purple umbrella by the rack and closes the door soundlessly. He stalks inside, clenching his jaw at the sudden silence.

He surveys the place and sees the mess, yet no soul was present. He places the groceries on the kitchen top and creeps into the bedroom.

The door was already open, but, still, there was no one.

He freezes when Vhagar hisses. He lifts his gaze upon the black, senior cat sat at the top of the closet, looking into space with her fur raised.

"Aemond?!"

Aemond lowers his gaze.

"NO, DON'T HURT HIM!" I scream from inside the closet.

Aemond grips the umbrella and looks around the room. Vhagar hisses again.

He looks at his cat then the closet door.

"AEMOND- NO-- I'M PULLING YOU IN-"

Without another word, I leap out of the closet and grab Aemond, yanking him inside. I immediately shut the doors and begin to hyperventilate.

"What's happening? What's going on?" he asks, clutching my cheeks.

I whine and grip his wrists in distress. I whisper, "Vhagar's keeping us safe."

Aemond's nostrils flare, "what's happening? What's wrong?"

I shake my head and shudder, "there's a demon--"

"You know I can hear you right?"

I squeal, making Aemond tense and tighten his grip on me. I hear Vhagar hiss from above the closet.

Without much thought, Aemond pushes the doors open and holds his umbrella like a weapon.

I scream and pull him back when I hear sinister laughtera, "AEMOND, NO!"

Aemond claims an offensive stance, ready to bat his umbrella at whomever was in front of him, and yet there was no one. My breath hitches as I anticipate Daemon to jump us both, but he doesn't.

With furrowed brows, the man looks over to me, "baby, there's no o-"

Aemond yelps as I rush out of the closet and drag him out of the bedroom with me. We make our way to the kitchen, and I immediately rummage through the groceries, grabbing the pack of pads.

"Honey, what was it exactly that you-" Aemond cuts himself off as he watches me run out of the room, heading to the bathroom.

Immediately, I pull my shorts down and replace my bloody pad. I stare at the menstrual blood on the white napkin, realizing only now that there was, in fact, a sigil of a three headed dragon on the surface.

"There is it."

I scream. I look up at the bloody Daemon staring back at me, smirking with crossed arms.

I hear Aemond run towards the bathroom door. He calls out my name in concern.

I rip my used napkin off my underwear and chuck it to the demon. I scream once more when he manifests beside me, avoiding my assault.

"Unsanitary," Daemon clicks his tongue.

Aemond bangs on the door, "what's going on? Do you need any help?"

I sidestep away from Daemon and hurriedly replace my pad.

Aemond calls out my name as he knocks.

Daemon turns to the door, lips curling in annoyance, "I will slay him if he enters."

My eyes widen. It was only then I realized there was a sword hanging upon his hip. I feel sick.

Aemonds sounds agitated, "I'm coming insi-"

"NO!" I rip my pants up and run to the door. I shove Aemond back the moment I can. I squeeze myself out of the small opening and I push him back until he finally repels me and grabs my arms. Aemond and I are in the kitchen by then.

He calls out my name and grabs my cheeks. His face is marked by worry.

I panic, "wait, where's Vhagar?"

"She's probably just-"

"DID HE KILL VHAGAR-"

"Look at me!"

I stare at him with wide, watery eyes. I whimper through a broken voice, "Vhagar was the only thing keeping me safe."

"From the demon?" Aemond asks carefully, swiping my tears with his thumbs.

"Please-" I choke out, "-believe me, I-"

"I believe you, darling," he strokes my hair. He pulls away and grabs the salt jar on the counter. He shows me the container before pouring some in his hand.

I raise my brows as he presents me the salt in his cupped palm.

Aemond speaks calmly, "if I see that fucker, I'll-"

"You'll what?"

Aemond shrieks and chucks the salt behind me. In the same terrified manner, I squeal and run behind Aemond.

The demon groans, "ao doru-borto qogralbar!" You stupid fuck!

Aemond pushes me behind him as he watches the blood covered man rub his eyes. He almost, out of instinct, chucked the whole jar at him, but he was glad he didn't. He pours a salt circle on the floor.

Aemond pulls me into his chest and begins to chant, "qrīdrughagon lēda ao!" Away with you!

Daemon looks up at us with a furious expression. His rage is quelled but when he sees the ground which we stood. His red eyes widen as he looks up at me, as if in disbelief of what he was seeing.

I tug on Aemond's shirt with agitation, "is this circle gonna keep us-"

"QRĪDRUGHAGON LĒDA AO!" Aemond shouts.

Daemon's eye twitches, "who is this imbecile you seek refuge in?"

"Don't answer it! Don't give him my name," Aemond says as he fishes something in his pocket.

"You act as though I know not your name is Aemond, imbecile."

"Aemond, I really think we-"

"Ignore him," says Aemond as he pulls out his phone.

Daemon chuckles darkly, "oh... how sweet you think such a thing is possible.

I cling tightly onto Aemond as he pulls out his phone. I whimper, "is now really the time?!"

"I'm calling Aegon," Aemond replies, placing his phone to his ear.

"What?!"

"He knows how to do an exorcism."

"?!?!?"

"You dare," Daemon yells, "think that I-"

"He was recruited in a cult once."

"-would be easily cast out by m-"

"QRĪDRUGHAGON LĒDA AO!"

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider donating €5 to Nour's GoFundMe so that she and her family can evacuate and experience the luxury of reading fics in the safety of their homes.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 7, Unburdened - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, brutal honesty, mentions of some sexy stuff, but no actual sex-on-page, mention of m masturbation,

Word Count: 3k

Previously On...: Bucky spent the entire evening at Jade Carthage's side, and when he calls her "doll," you had enough and stormed off. The two of you have the very first argument of your friendship, and now Bucky says you need to talk...

A/N: I had a very shitty and emotionally draining evening yesterday, so I didn't get any writing done, unfortunately. But I need to make myself feel better somehow, so let's post Chapter 7! I think many of you will agree with me when I say "Fucking finally!" to what transpires here! Alas, though, there are plenty of emotional ups and downs still to come, because that's just life, isn't it?

Also, I finally watched Lisa Frankenstein to cheer myself up last night. What a delightfully messed up, fun, campy romp that was! Highly recommend if you haven't already!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321

The silence in your room felt deafening as you closed the door behind Bucky. For the very first time in your friendship, it felt awkward having him in your space, and you could tell he felt it, too. You crossed over to your sitting area and sat in one of your arm chairs, curling up into yourself. Bucky sat in the chair opposite you, leaning his elbows on his thighs to support his weight. The two of you just stared into space for a long moment, avoiding the other's gaze.

"You wanted to talk," you said eventually, "so talk."

Bucky looked up to meet your eyes, and you could see the sadness and defeat in them. "I'm sorry, Pocket. You're right, I've been an ass all night. I didn't do it with the intention to hurt you, but I hurt you anyway because I wasn't thinking about how my actions would affect you, and that's almost worse. I'm sorry."

You exhaled and looked away from him, afraid that if you held his gaze for too long, you wouldn't be able to stop the tears that would certainly come. "Listen, Buck," you said, swallowing hard, "if you're interested in pursuing something with Jade, that's... well, it's your life, you're free to date whoever you want. We never put any labels or rules on whatever this thing between us is, so I know I don't have any right to be jealous, but watching you flirt so openly with her right in front of me, like I didn't even exist? I can't begin to explain to you how worthless and small that made me feel. So, if you think you want to try for something with her, you have to let me know so I can try to move on, because I can't sit around and watch it happen. It's too painful."

When you looked back over at him, Bucky had gotten up and was now kneeling on the floor in front of you, practically beaming as he took you in.

"Why are you smiling like a lunatic?" you asked, an edge of concern in your voice. "You're creeping me out."

"Pocket," he murmured, cupping your face in his hands as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. For a moment, you considered pulling away, but the feel of his lips on your skin was such a comfort, you stayed still. "My absolute one and only doll, you've got it all wrong. I let you get the wrong idea and stew with it and I am so, so sorry."

You did pull away at that. "What are you talking about? How do I have the wrong idea?"

Bucky leaned back until he was resting on his heels. "I am interested in Jade, that's true." He took your hands in his as you felt your heart drop into your stomach. "But not in the way you think." He brought your hands to his lips and began placing kisses across your knuckles. "Doll, there's only been one girl I've been interested in pursuing something with in the last seventy-five years, and I'm sitting across from her right now."

You shook your head, sure you had misheard him. "I don't understand."

He chuckled and looked up at you through his lashes, the sight so beautiful, your breath caught in your chest. "Pocket, I have been crazy about you since the moment you made that god-awful 'unarmed' joke. At first I thought a girl as pretty as you, as smart as you, as good as you, you'd never give a guy like me, even without my history, a second look, and I'd be content to just watch you from the sidelines, you know? Watch you be beautiful and bright and I'd be happy my world was a better place just because you were in it.

"But you went outta your way to be nice to me. You talked Tolkien with me, you wanted to spend time with me, you wanted to be my friend, and I thought 'This is already more than you deserve, it's more than enough.' Then, when I had my nightmare, you didn't run away. You stayed. You stayed, and you understood, you let me hold you, and I-I was a goner for you. And that night...," he groaned at the memory, "God, that night you kissed me back, and you let me touch you, in all the ways I dreamed of touching you, all the ways I'd imagined touching you while I fucked my fist for practically a year, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to give you up after that.

"You'd told me about your past, how you were scared of relationships but, sweetheart, I was so greedy, I'd take any part of you you were willing to give me, your friendship, your body, even if it wasn't ever gonna be your heart. I'd take any crumb you offered me, and I'd be grateful for it."

You blinked your eyes repeatedly, dazed by his confession and unable to articulate words. Bucky's face fell as your silence stretched on.

"You don't feel the same way," he said, voice low as he stood up. "I'm sorry-- I-I shouldn't have dumped all of that on you. I'll go--." He turned and made steps toward your door, but you jumped up, reaching out to grab his arm.

"Bucky, wait," you turned him back to face you and brought your lips crashing to his with such intensity that he stumbled backwards a few steps before wrapping his arms around you to kiss you back.

"I love you," you gasped when you broke apart for air, breathing out a laugh when his eyes widened comically in shock. "I'm so fucking in love with you that it terrifies me, because it's an entirely brand new experience and I don't know how to do it. I'm so worried that I'm going to fuck it up and scare you away, or that you're gonna realize I'm not worth it and I don't even know how to live without you anymore."

Bucky held your face between his hands. "Are you serious right now?" he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of deception. "You're not fucking with me?"

You shook your head emphatically, bringing your hands up to cover his. "No, no, I'm completely serious. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes." You laughed; the more you said the words, the more you realized how entirely true they were. "I love you and I've been so insanely jealous all night because I thought you were interested in her."

Bucky looked down at you with the brightest smile, like the sun shining after a storm, before pulling you toward him so he could kiss you again. You hadn't even realized you'd started to cry until, after Bucky had pulled away, he was brushing the tears from your cheeks.

"I love you, Pocket," he whispered as he began peppering kisses across your face. "I love you and I'm so sorry for everything I did tonight that would make you doubt that you're the most important person in my life and the best thing to ever happen to me."

The reminder of his earlier actions drew you out of the emotional haze his declaration had put you in. "Wait," you said, pulling back and putting some distance between the two of you, "if you've been in love with me this whole time, how come you've been weird about Jade ever since you saw her profile in those folders Tony gave us?" Bucky ran a hand down his face and sighed. Taking your hand, he led you back to the armchair you'd previously vacated and sat, pulling you down to sit on his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

"I told you that I am interested in Jade," he began, but when he felt you tense beneath him, he quickly continued, "but I'm not interested in dating her, or sleeping with her. You're the only girl who's got my attention in those departments." He paused to nuzzle at the junction of your neck and shoulder and you took the opportunity to run your fingers through his hair.

"Go on," you gently urged him.

"I'm interested in getting to know Jade, in talking to her, because she's... well, she's like me, you know? She's got the serum, and I don't know anyone else who's got it that's still alive."

You put a finger on his chin, tilting his face up to meet yours. "But, Steve," you said, somewhat confused, "he's got the serum, too, and you talk to him all the time."

Bucky sighed and shook his head. "Steve's got Erskine's serum," he told you. "The one made by the U.S. Government. The one that they-- that Hydra-- used on me, it was similar, but not the same."

"It's the same one that was used on Jade," you said, understanding dawning on you.

Bucky nodded. "Not exact, but what's running through her veins evolved from what's runnin' through mine. And they never put her through cryo, she's never been wiped. She was conscious through everything they put her through, all the experiments, the tests... I was excited to think that there was someone I could talk to about it, who understood. Someone who could maybe help me fill in some of the blanks I still have. Answer the questions I've been too ashamed to ask Steve."

"Oh, Buck," you hummed, running your nails gently across his scalp, "Baby, why didn't you ever say anything?"

He arched into your touch. "Because you've already had to put up with enough of my shit," he said. "I didn't want to burden you with any more of it."

You stopped your scratching ministrations and looked at him. "Now listen here, Barnes," you began, your tone serious, "the last thing you could ever be to me is a burden. I have never met anyone who was funnier, kinder, braver, more selfless or caring than you. You're a fucking gift, Bucky. One that I am endlessly grateful for, everyday."

Bucky groaned. "Pocket, you can't just say things like that while you're sitting on my lap. I try to be a gentleman, but I've got my limits."

You laughed and leaned into him, resting your head against him. You picked up his right hand and began tracing his fingers with your own.

"If me talkin' to Jade makes you any kind of uncomfortable, doll, I promise I'll never speak to, or even look at, her again." He caught your eye and you could see the seriousness of his statement in them. You leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I'm never going to tell you who you can't be friends with, Buck," you told him with a sigh. "I admit that I don't love the idea of you spending one-on-one time with her alone or anything, but I'm also not going to stand in the way of you getting answers you need about your past. But you tell me the second she tries something," you warned. "Super soldier or not, she comes for my man, I'm gonna kick her fucking ass."

"You've got nothin' to worry about, darlin'. I told you, in seventy-five years, it's only been you. Seventy-five years more, it's still always only ever be you." His words made your heart swell in your chest and you leaned in to kiss him again. "Mm, but say that again," he told you.

"The part where I'm gonna kick her ass?" you asked with a smirk.

"No," he said, nipping at the sensitive skin at the pulse point on your neck, "the part where you called me your man."

You shifted so you could wrap your arms around his neck, toying with the soft hairs at the nape. You leaned in close so you could whisper in his ear: "You're my man, Bucky Barnes." A full shiver went through Bucky's body at your words and you relished in the effect you had over him. He ran his vibranium hand up under the back of your shirt, tracing gentle circles on the skin of your lower back.

"And you're always gonna be my girl, Pocket." His flesh hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the motion, combined with his words, so tender your breath hitched.

Something seemed to shift in that moment, the air growing thick and heady between you, as if you were both just realizing the new depth of your relationship for the first time.

"Bucky," you breathed, voice barely a whisper, eyes pleading.

He nodded and, placing one hand at the small of your back and the other under your knees and scooping you up as he stood. With the utmost care, he laid you down on the mattress of your bed and rested his body over yours, careful not to put too much of his weight on top of you.

"This feels different," he said as brushed your hair away from your face.

"Good different or bad different?" you asked, bringing your hands up to cup his face, the stubble scratching your palms.

"The very best different." He leaned down, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was unlike any you'd shared before-- sweeter, more languid, as though you'd been forced to rush every previous kiss and you were both finally allowed to take your time. Bucky tasted like smoked whiskey as his tongue made leisurely sweeps across your mouth, eliciting a moan from you when he sucked on your bottom lip.

You could feel your arousal pooling between your thighs as you kissed, Bucky's flesh hand roaming up the soft skin of your side. He shifted, pressing more of his weight against you, as if he were desperate to be closer, and you could feel the hard press of his erection against your thigh.

You rocked your hips up against his pelvis, drawing a guttural moan from Bucky's throat. He pulled back, drawing himself up on his haunches. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shirt, teasing the edges as he looked up at you, silently asking you for permission. You nodded, sitting up and raising your hands over your head so he could slide your shirt off. As soon as it was free of your arms, Bucky tossed it aside and brought his lips to your shoulder, kissing his way across your collarbone.

Reaching down, you grabbed the hem of his Henley, slowly rolling it up over his abdomen, placing soft kisses on the hard lines of muscles it revealed. Once you'd fully divested him of his shirt, you let your hands roam the broad expanse of his chest, your lips and tongue trailing open-mouthed kisses across the raised pink scars at his mangled shoulder.

"You don't have to," he said, subtly pulling his shoulder back.

"Shush." You pulled him closer, continuing to kiss his puckered flesh. "I love every inch of you, Bucky. You're beautiful."

He pulled away from you, blue eyes boring into yours like he couldn't believe what he was seeing in front of him.

"How are you even real?" he asked, bringing your lips to his once again, his kisses growing more desperate. "I swear to God, Pocket, 'm gonna take you out, date you so fuckin' hard. Be the best goddamned boyfriend you've ever had."

He wanted to be your boyfriend. Not long ago, those words might have terrified you, but now, with the emotions you'd finally both let yourselves express, they thrilled you.

"You gonna take me to brunch, Barnes?" you teased, nipping at his skin as you rolled your hips up into his, your words coming out in gasps between the mewls of pleasure he was drawing from you. "We goin' to the farmer's market? Fuck--- Spend weekends at bed-n-breakfasts in Vermont?"

Bucky growled as he ground his hips down into yours, the length of his erection pressing down against your clothed clit and making you moan. "Sweetheart, I'll do anything you want. You wanna ride around the city on one of those tandem bicycles?" A dragging of his hips that had you arching your back. "I'm here for it. You wanna share a bowl of spaghetti like those dogs in that movie? I'm your man."

"Baby, I would never make you get on a tandem bike," you gasped, faux scandalized at the suggestion. "A swan paddle boat, maybe, but never a tandem bike. I respect you too much for that."

Bucky laughed as he buried into the crook of your neck. "I'd do it for you, anyway."

"That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," you told him with a smile.

"Oh, baby," he moaned, licking a stripe along the side of your neck that had you shivering, "We gotta fix that. I'm gonna romance the absolute shit out of you." He moved his mouth, placing kisses down your collar bone, between the valley of your breasts, and down your stomach. You bit your lip as his hands reached the waistband of your pants, his eyes looking up to meet yours as he slowly, so agonizingly slowly, began unbuttoning them.

"Ms. (Y/L/N), Sgt. Barnes," FRIDAY's voice echoed across the room. Bucky groaned and dropped his head on your pelvis at the interruption. "Mr. Stark requests your immediate return to the common room."

It was your turn to groan now as you threw your head back onto the pillow. "How much trouble do you think we'll be in if we just ignore it?" you asked him, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled as he leaned over to pick up your discarded shirts from the floor. "We don't go, he's libel to come barging in, and I don't know about you, but I'm not keen on Stark getting a load of my bare ass as I'm plowing balls-deep into his favorite little protégé," he said, winking at you as he pulled his Henley back over his head.

"Ew," you laughed, "everyone knows Parker's Tony's favorite little protégé these days. Thank you for that mental image."

Bucky shot you a sardonic look. "Arms, smartass," he said, indicating for you to lift your arms above your head so he could put your shirt back on you. "You got some mouth on you. I ever tell you how much I love it?"

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[boobo13cambridge]

Send That Picture Promise I'm A Keep It | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: Fluff, sexting, masturbation (m.)

Summary: What’s it like texting when your husband is a really busy athlete? 

A/N: Hello, everyone! I’ve been trying to finish up all my old requests before I get to the new ones. I was actually supposed to post this May 5th, and its now June, oops. I’ve seen all your prompts for the new Kylian smut, and I love all your ideas. I’ll try my best to get them done because for once I have nothing to this summer except find a job, lmao. I swear having a job ready for when you graduate is not easy at all. Uni should’ve prepared us better for the post-grad life. Anyways, as always don’t forget to like, comment, and repost! Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

Kylian: bébé 

Kylian: bébééé

Kylian: bééébééé

Kylian: béééébéééééééééé

Kylian: Arrête de m’ignorer 😢 (stop ignoring me)

Kylian: jte veux  (i want you)

Kylian: j besoins de toi (i need you)

Kylian: envoie t seins (send your tits)

The incessant buzzing of your phone that was conveniently located in your back pocket was proving to bea major distraction as you were trying your best to follow what your boss was trying to say. You knew who it was without even having to look, the culprit - a certain brown-eyed professional athlete who was called away on international duty. 

While you wished you could be there to cheer him on as France played against Gibraltar in Faro, you were unfortunately tied up at work as you had to deal with an important client. As a divorce lawyer, you were constantly surprised to learn just how selfish and idiotic some people could be. You’d think a firefighter would be too busy trying to save people to have two mistress with three children each. Alas, humanity never failed to disappoint. To add fuel to the fire, this particular client absolutely refused to comprise on anything and insisted that he still loved his wife despite being a piece of shit.

Seeing all these cases, you were grateful that Kylian wasn't like that. To be honest, in the beginning of your relationship, you were very self-conscious as footballers were known to be cheaters. A few people (who were no longer in your life) warned you that your husband would inevitably turn out like most people in his profession and leave you for a model. Kylian, on the other hand,  turned out to be nothing like that. He was consistently loving, truthful, and patient with you. The media's attempts to tear your relationship apart still pained you deeply, especially the heartbroken look in Kylian's eyes as you shouted at him, accusing him without even giving him a chance to explain.

But returning to the present, your boss finally released you from the conversation as her secretary reminded her that her husband was waiting on the line. Your boss, an intimidating woman whom you respected greatly, was the only one who hired you straight after graduation, despite most law firms turning you away. You suspected they viewed you as nothing more than a trophy wife destined to retire after having a few kids. Céleste Beauregard was the only one who gave you a chance, and for that you would be eternally grateful.

Walking back to your desk, you pull out your phone and look at the messages Kylian send you. Letting out a snort at his antics, you reply.

You: t’a pas un match à jouer toi?  (don’t you have a match to play?)

Kylian: c koi le rapport bb??    (what’s the correlation baby??)

You: tu c ke chui au travail kyky  (you know I’m at work kyky)

Kylian: allez bb juste une photo 🥺 (cmon baby its just one picture)

You: ds t rêve (in your dreams)

Kylian: fais pas ca (don’t do this)

Kylian: arrête de faire ta difficile (stop being so difficult)

You: t un gros pervert Mbappé 🤢 (you’re a big pervert Mbappé)

You: j d’autres choses à faire ds la vie ke de t’envoyer d pics de mes seins              franchement  (I have better things to do than send you pics of my tits seriously)

You: t’a pas déjà d pics? (don’t you already have some?)

Kylian: j’en veux d fresh svp (I need new ones pls)

You: tu m’énerve (you’re annoying)

In moments like these, you couldn't help but appreciate having a private office with tinted glass. Glancing around cautiously to ensure no one was present, you carefully unbuttoned your dress shirt, unveiling a seductive, lacy red push-up bra. With one hand, you delicately squeezed your breasts together, your cheeks flushed crimson as you quickly snap a picture and send it to him. 

Buttoning your shirt, you feel a mixture of excitement and anticipation, as you nervously bit your lip, holding your breath as you observed the three blinking dots in your message thread. You couldn't help but giggle at doing something so risky at your workplace.

Kylian: putain bb chui bandé 🤤 (fuck bb i’m hard) 

Kylian: si tt là ça serait parti en branlette espagnole 😏 (if you were here I would’ve fucked your tits)

You: t dégeulasse 🙄 (youre disgusting)

Kylian: tu m’aimes pareille ❤️ (you love me tho)

You: vrm pas  (not really)

You: envoie moi t seins toi (you send me your tits)

Kylian: jpeux tenvoyer qq chose de mieux 😘 (i’ll send you something better)

Your heart raced with anticipation, a symphony of palpitations echoing in your chest, as you waited impatiently for your husband to send you a picture of himself.

As the picture popped up, you felt liquid heat pool in your panties as your breathing deepened looking at the nude Kylian had sent you. 

The dim lights showed his hand wrapped firmly around his throbbing cock. Your gaze was fixated on the engorged head of his member, a vibrant hue of crimson, as a drop of precum bubbled on top. You could feel yourself throbbing as you feasted on the photo. Waves of pleasure surged through your core, causing your body to pulse with an insatiable hunger.

You: merde kyky ta pas le droit de m’envoyer sa quand tu c ke jpeux rien   faire (shit kyky you can’t just send me this when you know i cant do anything about it)

Kylian: enjoy bb 😘

You: ??

You looked at his message confused, not really sure what he meant. A few minutes later, he sends you a video that ignited a blush so intense it flushed the very roots of your hair.

In the video, he moved with tantalizing slowness, his strong, veiny arms caressing his length with deliberate, seductive strokes. Each movement of his arm drove your senses ablaze. The air around you thickened with the sound of his sinful moans, weaving a symphony of pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

Your eyes were fixated on the mesmerizing sight, unable to tear themselves away from the erotic scene playing on your small screen. Your breath hitched as he swiped a bead of precum, his fingers glistening with the essence of his desire. 

It was when a primal groan escaped his soft, pink lips with the sound of your name on the tip of his tongue that sent a blast of ecstasy through your body, electrifying every nerve ending with longing.

Unable to contain the building heat within you, you instinctively pressed your thighs together, seeking relief from the persistent throbbing that radiated from your slick core. 

The video was two minutes long, and you were burning up so fast. As you continued to watch the captivating video, your senses became heightened, every nuance and detail etching itself into your memory. The sheer eroticism of the scene, the raw sensuality exuding from his every movement, unleashed a whirlwind of desire within you.

With every gasp and moan that escaped his lips, you felt the reverberations deep within your core. His sinful utterance of your name was like a symphony of passion, intertwining with the symphony of your racing heart. 

As his fingers swept across his velvety skin, spreading the intoxicating precum, the ache between your thighs intensified. The throbbing in your core demanded attention, aching for release. The tension built, and with every second, you grew closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

It was almost a bittersweet torment, because as much as the video set aflame your desire for him, it also intensified the ache of longing for his physical presence. With a final, lingering stroke, the video came to an end, leaving you breathless and craving more. 

You: t vrm cruel kyky (you’re so cruel kyky)

Kylian: 😘😘 mmmhhh jte vois samedi? (mmmhhh see you saturday?)

You: non, viens mtn 🥺  (no, come now)

You: jte veux trop (i need you too much)

Kylian: hahah, tu c ke jpp princesse (hahah you know i can't princess)

Kylian: mais jvai marquer un but pour toi bb (but i’ll score a goal for you bb)

You: t mieux ❤️ 🙄 (you better)

You: jtm booboo ❤️ (ily booboo)

Kylian: jtm fort mon coeur ❤️ (ily so much my heart)

You: tu veux que je t’amène qq chose bb? Je c ke tu vas rester à l'hôtel avant le match au stade (do you want me to bring you something bb? I know you’re staying at a hotel before game at the stadium?)

Kylian: ouii, t seins 🤤 (yess, your boobs)

You: ugh bye 🙄

Your playful exasperation was evident as you bid farewell to the teasing suggestion. The exchange left a lingering sense of anticipation and passion in the air, as you both were eagerly waiting to see each other again. The thought of being in his arms, of holding him and kissing him, made you long for him so bad. Looking at the time, you quickly packed your stuff and rushed home, excited to be with him.

[deathbxnny]

Yanqing with a nature spirit/deity S/O. They draw power from being around pure nature and come from a planet that was blessed by Abundance, but they don’t agree with Yaoshi. So they join the Alliance as a healer and hunt down abominations.

But they don’t tell anyone that being on the Xianzhou for so long is practically killing them. The ship is a big hunk of metal, so they can’t replenish their energy.

Worse off, Yanqing notices when they start becoming tired quickly but they brush it off.

They reach their breaking point when they’re in battle and use the last of their power to heal Yanqing. They take a fatal blow to protect him and their body gives out, turning to leaves and leaving behind a seed.

(If Yanqing were to plant the seed, it would eventually grow to a point where his S/O is essentially revived with all their memories in tact, but this is an angst post.)

-----♡

A/N: Hello there Anon! Thank you for the painful request and for your patience!<33

Content: Angst, Reader dies, mentions of battle, mentions of death, established relationships, hurt/no comfort, Reader is a nature deity/spirit, mentions of injuries, the people want Yanqing angst

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

You knew that this would eventually backfire. That eventually, you'd pay for disagreeing with Yaoshi and leaving the way you did. You noticed the way you were weakening. You knew it was happening. And yet you ignored it, in hopes of maybe escaping your fate this way. You just wanted to ignore the pain and the way you were slowly deteriorating.

And at first, this seemed to work. You went on with your duties, healing those around you, before spending the rest of your days with your unsuspecting boyfriend. You didn't want him to worry. You knew he would, if he found out that you were dying. But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him, because you didn't want to accept your fate either. So you acted like everything was fine, until it eventually all came to a head. Some call it karma and you called it fate.

It was supposed to just be a simple fight. One that, on a normal day, you should've been able to beat with ease. But things weren't so easy now, not when you had barely any energy left. You were panting and coughing, trying your best to keep the energy you had left. But it was impossible with no trees or earth to pull your energy from. It dawned on you then, that you weren't going to live long anymore. That there was no way you could.

And Yanqing noticed you weren't doing well either, but brushed if off, something he'd come to regret soon enough. He got injured pretty badly at some point and that's when you knew that it was over. Your hand reached out to rest on his bleeding chest, as you channelled the last of your energy into him.

He was shocked by you slowly disintegrating into nothing but leaves infront of him, which made him finally realise what was happening. He tried to stop you, but by then it was already too late. The enemy that had hurt him tried to throw one last attack at him, which you took instead. You practically exploded in a rain of petals and leafs that also took out the enemy in the process. You couldn't even say goodbye.

Yanqing sat there for what felt like an eternity, before he noticed the small seed that you left behind. He grabbed it and held it close to his heart, grateful that there was at least something left of you for him to remember by. But alas, the emptiness remained, until perhaps the seed grew and filled his now cold heart once more.

-----♡

A/N: Alright, I genuinely hope this was somewhat coherent, because I'm exhausted lol. But anyways, thank you again for the request and your patience, Anon!<33

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 5: Nightmares Walking

Or uh, riding, since that's what my picture has. Alas. Anyway you know the drill by now I'm sure, spoilers for anything and everything under the sun in this post, especially The Wheel of Time since that's what I'm rereading.

This chapter has the Trolloc triptych because we're getting a Shadowspawn attack.

He opened his mouth to shout warning, and suddenly the door of Moiraine’s hut burst open and Lan dashed out, sword in hand and shouting, “Trollocs! Wake, for your lives! Trollocs!”

Perrin, with the magical help of an entire pack of wolves, is only ALMOST as fast to respond to a crisis as Lan. That man's real fucking badass, y'know? (But also: Perrin is fighting his powers every step of the way and Lan's got two decades of experience with his own supernatural aid. It's only a matter of time before Perrin makes Lan look like the chump.)

The Tuatha’an woman pressed her back against the log wall, a hand to her throat. The light from the burning trees showed him the pain and horror, the loathing on her face as she watched the carnage.

I was just reading some stuff iliiuan had to say on the Tuatha'an before I got into this chapter so let me just note: Leya's priorities are all out of whack here if Perrin's reliably relating her emotions. She's not keeping herself safe, she's just being judgy about violence happening in her vicinity. And it kills her.

All that mattered was that he had to reach Leya, had to get her to safety, and the Trolloc was in the way.

Perrin's desperation to do the right thing even though of course he could easily write Leya off as an inevitability (and an inconvenience until the inevitable happens to boot) is why he's a hero, you know? I'll be giving this boy the most shit out of anyone but he tries to save someone's life even though he knows he can't and that's something.

The stink of it filled his nostrils, goat-stench and sour man-sweat.

It's good to know that Trollocs produce all the scents available to them instead of just limiting themselves to one or the other. And by good I obviously mean gross, but since I read it you have to too!

She was still there, huddled in front of the hut, not more than ten paces upslope. And watching him with such a look on her face that he could barely meet her eyes.

Leya's zealotry may be a formative trauma for Perrin I think.

Suddenly Leya moved, throwing herself forward, attempting to wrap her arms around the Myrddraal’s legs.

Well that's great and all Leya but isn't restraining someone so they can't move a very light form of violence? Like good... well good may be strong, but some kind of positive adjective... effort trying to protect Perrin and all but if you tripped the Fade isn't that causing it physical harm? Where is the line for the Tuatha'an? Did she in the last moment of her life betray her own beliefs for nothing? Concerning if so.

“Fade,” Perrin said roughly, but then a different name came to him, from the wolves. Trollocs, the Twisted Ones, made during the War of the Shadow from melding men and animals, were bad enough, but the Myrddraal—. “Neverborn!” Young Bull spat.

Half the reason we don't get Rand POVs much in this book is that Perrin's stealing his TGH schtick of losing himself in his newfound powers. I think this is something of a leftover from the proto-Tam character who was going to be Jesus AND the luckiest SOB ever AND a werewolf AND probably a really good shot I guess or whatever that fourth kid was supposed to contribute. Being easily replaceable, maybe?

The urge to rush down the slope and join his brothers, join in killing the Twisted Ones, in hunting the remaining Neverborn, was strong, but a buried fragment that was still man remembered. Leya.

Perrin will of course spend this book (and the next... ten?) afraid that he might turn into a werewolf forever because of an encounter, but we see right here that this isn't a risk for him because he's always got stuff to pull him back. Leya's barely in the list of ten most recent people he talked to but he won't abandon his humanity for her sake - how much less likely is he to abandon it once he's got Faile?

He no longer thought of the greater battle. There was only the Trolloc he and the wolves—the brothers—cut off from the rest and brought down. Then there would be another, and another, and another, until none were left. None here, none anywhere.

Obviously this is a terrible viewpoint to adapt if you're trying to be the strategy guy, but since Perrin isn't that anyway and the battle isn't reliant on such things, it actually works for him here. He's also more aware of himself than he was with the Whitecloaks, showing he's developed a little with his powers even if he's afraid of them.

Young Bull threw back his head and howled with her, mourned with her. When he lowered his head, Min was staring at him. “Are you all right, Perrin?” she asked hesitantly.

Note that while Min's obviously freaked out by Perrin embracing his inner furry, she's not exactly treating him like a freak show either. Like I said, she'd probably be very supportive if she knew the details.

Frantically he walled himself off from contact with the wolves. Images seeped through, emotions, as he tried to stop them. Finally, though, he could no longer feel them, feel their pain, or their anger, or the desire to hunt the Twisted Ones, or to run. . . .

Again we can kind of see how the proto-Tam's various aspects would have tied into a central character arc, with rejecting the naturalistic wolf expression being just one more way he would have been hardening himself and just one more thing he'd need to embrace to be the full hero at the end.

The Shienarans still standing—so few—lifted their blades and joined him. “Tai’shar Manetheren! Tai’shar Andor!”

Hell, even the Shienarans aren't that judgmental since they are already following Rand around.

But when he was with the wolves, it was all so different. He did not have to worry about strangers being afraid of him just because he was big, then. There was no one thinking he was slow-witted just because he tried to be careful. Wolves knew each other even if they had never met before, and with them he was just another wolf.

Is it wrong that occasionally I think Perrin might be a little bit on the spectrum?

“A sign to confirm our faith. Even wolves came to fight for the Dragon Reborn. In the Last Battle, the Lord Dragon will summon even the beasts of the forest to fight at our sides. It is a sign for us to go forth. Only Darkfriends will fail to join us.”

Masema is of course foreshadowing his delightful nonsense, showcasing how he was still corrupted by Fain, and letting Jordan make it subtly clear that the real Last Battle will be more complicated. It's not just Darkfriends who won't be on the side of the Light, even at the very end.

Do you know what I did during the fight?” Still staring into the distance, Rand addressed the night. “Nothing! Nothing useful. At first, when I reached out for the True Source, I couldn’t touch it, couldn’t grasp it. It kept sliding away. Then, when I finally had hold of it, I was going to burn them all, burn all the Trollocs and Fades. And all I could do was set fire to some trees.”

Rand's an incredible channeler, but even he needs a teacher.

“We . . . dealt with them, Rand,” Perrin said. He shivered, thinking of all the wounded men down below. And the dead. Better that than the mountain down on top of us. “We didn’t need you.”

And likewise, in the final conflict, no one will be needing Rand to deal with the individual Shadowspawn and even if he could deal with them to keep the people alive it would be a waste of everyone's time.

There had been a man, Elyas Machera, who also could talk to wolves. Elyas ran with the wolves all the time, yet seemed able to remember he was a man. But he had never told Perrin how he did it, and Perrin had not seen him in a long time.

Sorry Perrin, but he doesn't really pull it off anywhere near well enough for your standards.

He gasped and almost dropped his axe. He could feel the skin on his back crawling, muscles writhing as they knit back together. His shoulder quivered uncontrollably, and everything blurred. Cold seared him to the bone, then deeper still. He had the impression of moving, falling, flying; he could not tell which, but he felt as if he were rushing—somewhere, somehow—at great speed, forever.

Another reminder that the best modern Aes Sedai have for healing at this point is emergency care, which works but definitely isn't the good stuff. Moiraine even tells him to eat afterward.

“Most of the wolves who were hurt made their own way to the forest,” Moiraine said, knuckling her back and stretching, “but I Healed those I could find.” Perrin gave her a sharp look, yet she seemed to be just making conversation. “Perhaps they came for their own reasons, yet we would likely all be dead without them.”

Moiraine is nice enough to try and thank Perrin subtly, but of course he's much too suspicious for any of that.

“If you could get me to Shayol Ghul now,” Rand said drowsily, “by Waygate or Portal Stone, there could be an end to it. No more dying. No more dreams. No more.”

It would obviously have a terrible ending, but a fanfic of Moiraine somehow taking sleep-deprived Rand to Shayol Ghul and just kind of hoping for the best would be hysterical. This Rand might not be as traumatized as he's going to be, but I still think assuming he'd last five minutes before agreeing to let the Dark One unmake reality is overly generous.

“That’s right,” Rand said bitterly. “I’m not to be trusted. Lews Therin Kinslayer killed everyone close to him. Maybe I’ll do the same before I am done.” “Pull yourself together, sheepherder,” Lan said harshly. “The whole world rides on your shoulders. Remember you’re a man, and do what needs to be done.”

If Perrin or Mat had tried sassing Lan like this they would have learned what their pancreas looked like once chopped in half before finishing the second sentence, so while Lan's toxic masculinity is of course only adding to the Dragonmount of psychological issues Rand's going to need to deal with, let's also reflect that it's still him going easy on his favorite boy.

Next time: Ingtar leads the crew out of Fal Dara, Rand finds out Moiraine fucked with his belongings again, and Lanf--

Wait no. Sorry. That was LAST book's chapter "The Hunt Begins". Next time we read THIS book's version, which probably has a lot less Ingtar due to his having a prior commitment. Also much less Rand on account of his running away.

[gamchawizzy]

A life update!

It's been an unreal time lately and I apologise for the lack of art and presence. Normally I avoid sharing too much in public, but truth be told I think 7/8 years of nonstop work and escaping a bad place and bad people has finally, utterly burned me out. I also developed body pain, and given my previous medical history, I think I have to go back to the doctor for a diagosis on paper for something else.

That being said, my current gig is extremely demanding of my time and energy, and I've gotten sick several times because of it. I'm on 1.5 meals a day sometimes. I really want to quit lmao but I am feeding a family and a bunch of pets and trying to get a sibling thru college and paying the house bills. I wish I had more time to draw because drawing is what I do best and it would've been great extra income, but alas. My free time off work is spent resting and recuperating because the pain gets too much some days.

My comm queue is finally cleared but I still owe so much to my patrons and I'm very sorry for the lack of updates. For now I paused billing and it will be paused indefinitely while I catch up on all obligations and everything I owe. My hope is that it'll only be for a couple months while I get my shit together as well as streamline my online presence and social media management. I don't have much else to say but I miss art so much and yet I also feel weird about drawing, I have to redo my art habits from the ground up.

I feel a lil weird having to open all of these up because I don't want it to sound like I'm copping out, but my loved ones are already concerned. My track record with all my comms are clean so far and I intend to make good on everything I owe 😭

Will make a more formal post for current patrons and any ex-patrons who left during my hiatus, but I'll get you all either a skeb-type (pay what you want, good quality for cheap but no revisions) commission that you can avail, OR turn the total amount you pledged during my hiatus into credits you can use to get discounts on a proper commission. Let me know if that works for y'all? 👉👈

I also miss all my online friends and I hope we get to interact more soon, you guys are the realest and I hope you all are doing well 💗

Anyway update done, I wish you all very cosy holidays and good food!! I'll try to respond to people as best as I can, but any business/patron/etc related stuff feel free to dm/email me for it :'33

[seth-burroughs]

the fucking kokohead

I am in so much pain right now my flesh is melting tbh anyway miss Kokohead you got. A Lot. No tierlist we're doing this the hard way of our ancestors but mostly mine, on a scale from 1/10, descending order, counting only those I either saw or thought up myself at some point

Kokogami (Yuma x Shinigami): 10/10 perfect I could just end it there, what the hell do you want me to say, you played the game. You saw them. I love being an annoying kokogami fan, seriously fuck you if you don't like kokogami I hope kokogami haters feel so oppressed and targeted by this statement especially you, you may have deleted your reblog and turned on anon but you will never delete your sins nor be granted anonymity before the judgment of god aka Yomi Hellsmile. Sorry I am very passionate about kokogami I can't help it. Also I'm revisiting MDARC and seeing their first interactions again so I'll probably won't be normal for quite a while. They make me so sad and happy and horny and cathartic I'm not okay. Nothing will ever be okay after the MDARC ending also they're pretty much canon at this point like I'm pretty sure they had sex on screen several times

Kokohell (Yuma x Yomi): 10/10 If I wasn't so sad and miserable and tired all the time nowadays I would have drawn them so often alas. Anyway what do I even say. One of the most Yuma ships that ever shipped. Don't mess with kokohell fans there's 4 of us 5 if you count that other japanese person from pixiv/twitter that has stopped making kokohell fanart like months ago. I like bonking the main protags and antags together in nearly all fandoms, aesthetically they slay, their dynamic is already glorious even discounting all the shit I just made up in my head and would be improved 10000x times if we locked them in the Utena Yuri Jail until they finally fuck, it'd actually be so fucked and I'm trying my fucking best to prevent myself from just chewing on my arm right now because arrrrghhrhrh grrr grrrr. Anyway not quite on the level of kokogami but I'm not fucking okay thinking about this either. How could I be . When these freaks exist.

Kokoford (Yuma x Fubuki): 9/10 excellent vibes in a way chapter 3 was the best chapter because it had Fubuki in it and she literally has the power to make any dynamic better. You can imagine Fubuki with literally every single character and it's actually really good because she just has this thing about her that makes everything worth it. Sometimes I remember that one fucking post that said Kodaka normalizes the grooming of little boys because Predator Fubuki wanted Minor-coded Yuma to date her and I get so ma- wait actually I just fucking remembered that scene????? she really literally asked him to consider being her boyfriend in their gumshoe gabs oh my god I am in fucking heaven I'm making it higher than kokofurio actually

Kokofurio (Yuma x Yakou): 9/10 perfect I actually didn't expect to like this one that much. I don't agree with the popular headcanon of him being a "father figure" to Yuma mainly because 1) these are grown ass men 2) i hate the found family trope 3) sure Yuma might call him daddy a few times but father just sounds too formal you know,

Makoyuma (Yuma x Makoto): 7/10 and points removed only because I literally think about it like, once in a year. Like on paper they are mega compelling but unfortunately I cannot bring myself to care or maybe just forgot if I did earlier. Maybe when I get to all the makoyuma scenes on my revisit it'll awaken something I literally have nothing to say right now. For now I'll just say their dates are NOT fucking normal

Kokoxander (Yuma x Fake/Hitman Zilch): 6/10 I saw it quite a few times actually and it's interesting I'd say!! Though it's pretty much impossible (or just weird, lmao) for me to imagine Aide having feelings for, let alone pursue, anyone other than Yomi I mean if I squint there is something there that makes me want to start biting and shaking it around in my teeth. The 2-minute long yaoi they must have had on the train was bizarre and unnerving. In less angst-packed scenarios, like a kokohell au I can 100% see Yomi just introducing his new chewstick boyfriend to Aide and him having to tolerate him which pretty much progresses like. Aide says he doesn't want a new pet guy, Yomi gets one anyway, two weeks later Aide and Yuma found moaning sexually while lighting each other's cigarettes looking into each others eyes in a non-bro way locked in tender embrace anyway I don't know what they're typically called cause like 3 entire people including myself ship it so I made up one on the spot and kinda sounds like some hard drug name. Also Yomi makes them fuck while he watches and sits upon the Fudanshi Throne in front of them. This is the kind of fucked up twisted shit that happens when he acquires a polycule

Kokowendy (Yuma x Kurumi): 5/10 I like their dynamic fine actually and I don't really know if that's a common opinion here? I just don't know if I'll really prefer it as romantic instead of just what it was in the game. I love Kurumi what a funky little lad I don't trust people who don't like Kurumi. I want to put that boy (tmasc beam activate) in so much wacky situations and many of them don't even involve Yuma

Kokomare (Yuma x Halara): 3/10 I like their dynamic but there's not an ounce of love within Halara's body that's not exclusively reserved for adorable little kitties. Not a single romantic or sexual or platonic or familial thought in them. They view Yuma as like, kind of like a wet stray kitten they are graciously taking in they'll never admit it but he's kinda cute with those prey animal eyes

Kokobolt (Yuma x Desuhiko): 1/10 sorry not for me + I don't like Desuhiko

Kokolight (Yuma x Vivia): 1/10 sorry not for me + I don't like Vivia

[smores100]

hey.

so. haven't been around for quite some time, mostly due to my health issues (the usual + muscle aches and joint pains, i'm having a great time), but also in part due to The Situation. it's hard to care about anything with everything that's been going on, it all seems so pointless and meaningless, i'm living in a completely different universe from everyone else here. wish i could be that privileged, but alas. it's also hard being around here, and on other social media platforms for that matter, and seeing the raging antisemitism and sheer hate everywhere. i haven't checked my dash in almost 2 months, haven't checked specific blogs like i used to either, and have no plans on doing so anytime soon. i know what i'll find, i don't want it.

i was gonna stay quiet like i ususally do, especially since i genuinely don't have energy for anything rn, but it's been 2 months and i've been biting my tongue and screaming and crying into my pillow daily and i just need to get some of it out before i implode. there's only so much ignorance and hate that one person can take before snapping, so. here i am.

i have so much i want to say, i've written a million posts in my mind in the past 2 months, but i'm too Tired to actually write them down, and it'll just be one big messy ramble anyway, so i'm just gonna reblog a couple of other people's posts and make do with that. just a couple, don't worry, i know these are issues most either want to avoid dealing with or the opinions shared in those posts are a complete 180 degrees from what's trendy to believe in today. but i have to share it anyway. for 2 months i've been terrified, frustrated, bitter, angry and absolutely heartbroken, but there's one thing i haven't been, and that is ashamed. i'm proud of who i am. i'm proud of my people and their spirit. you will never understand what it's been like for us, what it still is like for us, but let me just say this: they wanted to break us, they wanted to break our spirit. they failed. we've never been more united. they just made us stronger.

so i'm gonna reblog some stuff so i can get it out of my system and move on. at worst i hope you just ignore and scroll past it; at best i hope you keep an open mind and maybe for the first time read things from a different pov instead of just the one sided propaganda everyone is continuously exposed to. maybe you'll see it isn't all black and white, maybe you'll see there are nuances you're not even aware of, maybe you'll realize you've been fed a lot of misinformation, half truths and even lies over the years. maybe. if you have questions or want to have a mature and civil conversation about it, feel free to msg me and i'll try and reply when my health allows me to, i'm open to discussion. if you want to unfollow me after this, feel free to do so. i'm not gonna force my truth on anyone, but i'm also not gonna change who i am for anyone either.

and on a more personal note, i wanna say thank you again for the msgs i've received last time and haven't replied to (due to health, Situation etc), and for the ones i've gotten since (will get to those soon i hope). i do feel the need to say this tho - i did have a peek or two at my dash and on twitter earlier on and saw some things. i was in a super sensitive state at the time and it was pretty disheartening ngl. it's hard nowadays, with all the hate going on and public opinion being what it is, to know whether or not you're still welcome in these spaces, whether or not people still like you and care about you, or if you've officially become persona non grata. most days it feels like the latter tbh. i just don't know where i stand. i said i'm not gonna force myself on anyone and i'm not, so if you're still ok with me…i guess the ball's in your court? 🌻

thanks for reading. thanks for sticking around, to those who decide to do so. take care y'all. never again is now. am yisrael chai. 💙

[thebreakfastgenie]

⭐ the Carlye fic

Aaaa thank you! My poor, obscure fic.

This whole fic came out of the lyric that became the title, because I just got the feeling that line "she would've liked to say she loved the man, but she didn't like to lie" described Carlye's marriage to Doug. It didn't sound especially passionate, certainly not in comparison to her relationship with Hawkeye. But Doug gave her his time and attention when Hawkeye couldn't. That's why I decided for their first meeting, Doug regrets not approaching her and ditches work to run back and try to catch her. Hawkeye would never do that, and of course you can't blame him because you can't walk out on a surgery the way you can on a meeting. But that's the central problem for Carlye.

The man’s face brightens, but just then her plate of eggs comes out, and her hunger takes her attention. When she looks up, he’s gone. She eats her breakfast and doesn’t give him another thought, until she hears the door chime while she’s paying she check and turns to see him rushing back in, red-faced.   He lights up when he sees her. It’s cold outside, but he’s sweating.  “I made it in time!” he pants. “I was so sure you’d be gone… I made it all the way to the office, just kicking myself for not asking your name…” 

In trying to flesh out Carlye I came up with this woman who just wants to be a free, independent person. I decided to have her not love college for something different, although I think maybe she goes back to school someday, after the end of the fic.

Carlye and Hawkeye meeting in surgery was important to me. He talks about her nursing skills, so they obviously worked together back then, and it just kind of made sense. The skill and dedication is attractive to both of them, but of course Hawkeye's dedication drives them apart in the end.

I wanted her relationships with both Hawkeye and Doug to tell us something about her. It's not about Hawkeye or about Doug, but about how Carlye is with them and what that reveals about her.

I ended the fic kind of abruptly without getting to it, because I wanted to leave it open, but in my mind Doug forgives the affair but they divorce a few years later anyway.

The flat feels smaller the more alone she feels. He had a way of opening up rooms with his words, his crazy, believable dreams. Now the hunter green walls box her in. Now she thinks maybe it’s a good thing she can’t talk to him about it. If she gives him a chance to beg her, she’ll stay, and she thinks she’ll die if she does.  When she can’t take it anymore, she slips out in the night. She knows she should feel bad about it, and she does. The guilt clings to her and her gut twists with how badly she misses him. 

I have always felt the reason she left the way she did is that she couldn't give him a chance to beg her to stay, because it would have worked. I mean, look at how fast "no, it can be better" works several years later. The relationship isn't working for her, but she still loves him, and leaving is hard and painful. But she's sincere when she says "I know I hurt you."

He isn’t always exciting, but she never catches him muttering the names of suturing techniques while he runs his hands over her chest, 

I am slightly obsessed with this image. Rather than sexualizing medicine, he's medicalizing sex. Sometimes I think it would have been better if this had a happier counterpart, maybe the two of them doing anatomical dirty talk and joking about playing doctor early in their courtship. But I think the style of the fic would need to be slightly different for that to fit.

The version of this that's posted is the second draft and I think it improved a lot from the first one. I'm happy with it! The part about Carlye fantasizing about Hawkeye was better in my head when I first thought of it but alas I was half-asleep. It happens.

I just really love Carlye. Partly I have a huge lesbian crush on Blythe Danner. But I just love her and I love her dynamic with Hawkeye. I'm fascinated by the fact that they lived together unmarried in the 1940s. I wasn't trying to accomplish anything in particular with this fic, I just had a lot to say about Carlye Breslin Walton. Obviously I still do haha.

[allergic-to-four-leaf-clovers]

Restraints

woo hoo!! my first genuine piece of whump writing, hell fucking yeah! I've been lurking in amongst whump writing for oh so long, and I decided it was finally time to grow some balls and actually post a thing. so, without further ado, enjoy this absolute bloody mess featuring the skrunkly himself, the one and lonely, Rayan :D!!

Cw: immortal whumpee, multiple whumpers, mention of past torture, blood, stabbing, restraints, minimal swearing, whumper-turned-whumpee I guess??, whumpee-turned-whumper except There's Two Of Them Now™, slight manhandling maybe?? I don't know??, slight degradation. view with caution!!

(note: Foster (whumper) uses they/them. all other ocs mentioned (Rayan (whumpee) and Ezra (whumper) use he/him. Also note I have no clue what I'm doing, so some of this may not be accurate lmao)

- - - - - - - >

I had tried to cut the bonds long ago.

Ever since I had first acknowledged your pathetic little band of "survivors" hunting for my very head, I had tried to block contact with you — or anyone you knew, for that matter. I changed my phone number, multiple times, may I add, I considered moving to live with my sister and her fiancee, hell, I would've altered my identity entirely or even gon into hiding if I hadn't been told I was probably overreacting. But I wasn't, was I? Time and time again, I had tried to steer myself away from danger, but time and time again, you persisted. You wanted to make my life utterly miserable. And, I hate to admit this, but you succeeded.

But I could tell from that smug smile of yours that you knew damn well of this, and you relished in the fear in my eyes. I could tell from the scalpels, and knives, and bats, and hammers, and other godforsaken weapons you held in the very same basement you held me in that you would stop at nothing to inflict pain upon me. To give me a taste of my own medicine. You're all just kids with saviour complexes, aren't you? Pathetic.

Our pathways along life are forever intertwined. Though, mine may or may not be mixed with the blood of not only my victims, but of myself. Of guilt that weighs down on my heart, of burdens I am forced to carry on my now fragile shoulders. You have reduced me to a mess of a man. My very being is scarred and bruised from your relentless, merciless torture. I would say I deserve it — I did torture you all first, after all — but I'm not that harsh upon myself, now am I?

I despise you all. Though, I can tell from the disdain and disgust you try to conceal behind those grins and smirks that the feeling is mutual. We're all antagonists in the same story, only lacking a protagonist or better side of the story to oppose. I would say said side is, in fact, each other, but none of us can be deemed as good.

Despite all this, I remain in one piece. I have been humiliated, abused, drowned, suffocated, stabbed, bruised, cut, choked, starved, deprived of both sleep and my own senses. Though, somehow, I am still alive. Perhaps it's just sheer luck making my heart continue to beat, or maybe, just maybe, there's something more complex, more.. supernatural going on. Alas, you'll have to find that out on your own. Some secrets are best to be kept to yourself, after all.

- - - - - - - >

"You should be dead by now," Foster mused with a smirk that Rayan knew oh-so-well. "I stabbed you in the aorta minutes ago, yet you're still alive."

"Oh, yeah? And since when were you a medical expert?" Rayan spat back, craning his head to glare up at his captor. The latter merely chuckled humorlessly at that, guiding Rayan's chin back to face the wall, holding his jaw down with a vice-like grip. Their other hand was rested on his shoulder, which would most definitely leave a bloodstained handprint on his clothes — not that it mattered, anyway. Rayan squinted and stared at the wall before closing his eyes — well, more eye now; Ezra decided it'd be an oh-so-wonderful idea to slash a knife across Rayan's face, leaving him blind in one eye and in immense agony, as he described it himself — trying to ignore the flare of pain in his stomach and the press of ropes against his skin.

"This is boring," he eventually heard Ezra, speak of the devil, complain, his Texan accent cutting through the uncomfortable silence which had begun to linger in the basement. "Why don't we just.. kill him now? Leaving him alive'll do us no good."

"Be patient, Ezra." Foster leaned forward to Rayan's height almost mockingly and rested their head on his shoulder, the sudden proximity making the latter flinch. They smirked and added: "After all, leaving it alive means we can toy with it more, okay?"

Foster knew that would strike a nerve. Rayan absolutely despised degradation of any variety; they knew that perfectly well. Their smirk grew wider at the sight of Rayan's body stiffening and tensing, restrained hands balling into fists under the ropes, speaking through gritted teeth. "Don't you fucking dare."

Foster pouted sarcastically, patting Rayan's shoulder before stalking away. "Well, we'd best get going for now. Staying here is gonna make me die of boredom."

Rayan had his eyes closed still, so he couldn't see what they were doing, other than the fact he knew they were exiting the basement. His eyebrows furrowed in suspicion as he heard incoherent mumbles from in front of him, before hearing footsteps advance upon him. He had no time to react as he was stabbed once more, only letting out a strangled gasp, eyes shooting open.

Ezra's laugh startled him. "Never fails to make me laugh." He said, before twisting the knife in the wound, causing a small cry of pain from Rayan. He laughed again. Even Foster managed a light chuckle.

Ezra had opted to just leave the knife in the wound, which caused much more discomfort for Rayan. But it's not like he could care. Foster and him eventually left, even shutting off the lights in the basement as if Rayan wasn't actually there. Or, maybe as if Rayan wasn't a person, as if he were an item of furniture they had discarded.

Rayan managed a small scoff when he knew they were out of hearing range, rolling his eyes. "They're so fucking stupid..." He muttered, watching the wound on his body heal unnaturally quickly, the blood already beginning to dry out. They had all tried to kill him more times than he had counted, and all attempts had been unsuccessful. It was only a matter of time until they find out — it's inevitable, after all. Rayan just needs to use the amount of time he has left with his secret to his advantage.

[ohyoru]

Hey im not good with words or english, but its ok to feel burnt out or tired. Youre not obligated to provide anything to us. You are an author who writes for free. Maybe to have fun maybe to express yourself. You have your own life and thats a good thing. I havent been playing genshin in a while because theres so much work i need to do there like building characters. I havent watched link click s2 because i cant bring myself to sit down for that long. Im sure everyone has something like this happening to them and i just remind myself that it doesnt matter that much. Post unfinished things, make your character builds crap, dont finish a book youve started it doesntmatter. Its about having fun. Its about forgetting your problems(at least for me) or its about spending time with your online friends. Taking a break is necessary. Spending time for yourself is necessary. Taking care of yourself is necessary. I hope i could get my message across. I cant even take my own advice seriously as im too scared to post this without anon but i hope i was able to make you feel better somehow. I also want to say i really love your works even if i dont know who the person you’re writing about is. Ive been following your works for a while and i dont regret it one bit. I would be pretty sad if you were to stop writing for certain people but if it makes you feel happy then i dont mind and im sure others wouldn’t mind it as well. Youre free to do whatever you want ( as long as youre not intruding on other peoples freedom obviously) thank you for reading my wordvomit written in an attempt to comfort you.

dearie anon,

to have you in my inbox is already a blessing enough for me. thank you so much for taking the time of your day to cheer me up, you have no idea how much this means to me (brb crying i dont deserve you sob)

first of all, your message got across. i'm not sure about your english being not good part, but really, your message resonates with me on a level deeper than language can ever explain, truly.

i appreciate your kind reminder that i shouldn't feel obliged to write for anyone. i honestly feel like it's eating me out because i put myself in the equation as well. i had been a writer before, back when tokyo revengers (anime) was still in its first season since i'm more of a manga reader. if you were in that era, you might came across my work. alas, things happened. what used to be good memories (including writing) turned into very hurtful ones and i stopped doing what i love because they're causing me so much pain. nonetheless, i still slowly died inside. it took me a while to be at peace with my past and understand that writing is what makes me the person i am. so i'm determined to start again and keep it up. but when life gets in the way and hold me back from writing (again), it depresses me. (including not playing genshin). honestly, i'm feeling lonely. what and who i used to know and love seemed to only exist in the past. people moved on, topics became irrelevant, relationship broke. which i don't blame, but it still makes me cry once in a while.

sorry for the traumadump uh- i feel like i should explain myself a little. i hope that didn't scare you too much. but anyway, you're right! i should do whatever i want. maybe i need to reframe my perspective. i love that you mention about reading book thingy because i have the same issue and yes, i'm a reader through and through. but it's been so long since i read.. the irony. maybe all i need to do is start. and love myself a bit more to stop torturing myself with unnecessary thoughts..

you know what anon? i love the past me. i dont remember exactly what i love about her, but she used to be so at peace. i'm trying to find my way back to her, and i think you're helping me set my way there, so thank you. i dont know about your problems, but if you're willing to share, i'm more than happy to listen. don't forget to take care of yourself too okay? i hope your days ahead are the loveliest yet!

also, thank you for appreciating my works! when i started writing again, i told myself and whoever that's willing to take the time of their day to consume my content that i don't need anyone's attention or approval (shadowban be damned. if it happens, it happens). i did it solely for myself. but god knows how much your kind words and others' fill up the spaces in my heart.

i'm not going to ask anything from my works. your support is something i could never repay, but i'll always appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

(btw yes, you did send this on anon hehe i got a hunch on who you might be but if you prefer to keep it a secret, then rest assured, your secret is safe with me!)

[kingthunder]

Ever since I was a little kid inhaling books off the sf/f shelves at the local library ten at a time, I wanted to be an author.

I put that desire on hold for decades. Not because I didn't want to do it, but because I was one of those gifted-track ADHD kids who internalized the whole idea of, "if at first you don't succeed, the lesson is never try—then they won't know you're skating through everything by the skin of your teeth and are actually incompetent." It took me until I was in my 30s to undo that mentality. It seems like real kindergarten stuff to realize that if you want to get better at something you have to practice. All I can say in my defense is that my own father used to tell me repeatedly, and very smugly, that only losers who aren't good at stuff have to practice, and that we (him and me) were winners who didn't have to do things like that.

(I also think that he has ADHD, and that he cultivated that own mentality in himself to make himself feel better about also lacking executive function, but if I told him that he would dismiss the thought before I was even done getting it out of my mouth. alas.)

Sometime between my middle school dreams and the crushing weight of the undiagnosed health problems of my 20s, I stopped reading. Books, anyway. I would read fanfiction in spurts. A few months here, a few months there, just when a particular fandom was calling to me. So when I finally got over my own infuriating blend of superiority/inferiority and decided to start practicing writing, it was with fanfiction. It made sense to me. I liked reading it. It gave me the benefit of having pre-made characters and settings, so I didn't have to learn how to create those things and learn the mechanics of storytelling at the same time. Plus, I'd have a readership already. Wins all around.

It went well! I look back at the stuff I wrote when I was first starting, and compare it to now, and the progress is clear (to me, at any rate). I still want to get better, of course, I don't think I'll ever want to stop getting better, but it turns out that practicing works.

My problem now is that...I don't how to move back to published fiction. I just really love writing fanfiction, and I really love reading it, and trying to pivot away from that and into the realm of published stuff sucks, actually. I'm constantly checking books out of the library, reading one, ten, fifty pages, and setting them aside out of boredom or anger. It's almost impossible to find anything that holds my interest enough to finish. It's like the genre of book I want to read only exists as fanfiction.

Meanwhile, I'm bashing my head against a wall trying to make myself start writing original fiction that I could possibly publish. I've managed a little of it. I've taken classes. Applied for some workshops I didn't get into. Won one flash contest and got the dinky little 300 word story published in an anthology. But every word is like pulling teeth. It's agony.

And I'm asking myself why, about all of it. I don't like reading books; what made me think I'd like writing them? Like obviously I'm not having a good time writing them. I'm frustrated to the point of tears constantly when I realize I've gone yet another week with nothing more than brainstorming stories I didn't write a single word of. But I don't want to give up either, because giving up on this means giving up on the one goal I've ever set for myself in my entire life, and it feels too much like giving in to the "you're actually incompetent" brain demon.

Persisting feels like pain, but giving up feels like numbness, and I'd rather hurt.

There's no point to this blog post. This isn't a feel-good essay with a breakthrough or lesson at the end. I have no neat narrative ends to tie up. I'm just screaming into the outer void, because screaming into the inner void hasn't been doing me a crumb of good. Thanks for listening. I'm going to go back to staring at en empty word doc and feeling guilty for not typing anything into it.

[cboffshore]

surprise! the ( sick and festering ) enabler anon returns with a QOTD! maybe one day i’ll put the enabler in my tumblr bio if i ever decide to do a funny scooby doo villain mask reveal.

anywho, onto the ask! i’ve asked this question before about OSSAS, but on regards to the new fic; any songs that come to mind that you’d like to share when it comes to writing it? i’m a little bit crazy on song analysis ☺️ hope your day has been good!!

Welcome back! I'm horrible with reading bios (like, I maybe do it ONCE when I follow someone and basically never again) but I'll have to keep an eye out 👀

Anyway! ALA songs! That's subject to change with each chapter, as my writing music is VERY rarely consistent, but for now I can take you through the four songs used or implied in c1:

"Baby Annihilation" by Fall Out Boy - that's our title track! I chose that because the lyric "what is there between us if not a little annihilation?" fits Jay and Nya's relationship pretty nicely, if sarcastically. seriously, they NEVER catch a break! All of their milestones center on some kind of destruction. That lyric also works for what they'll get up to in C2, which is the primary reason I chose it.

"Cryptozoology" by Patrick Stump - this is where I got the chapter name from! Something about the entire Soul Punk album strikes me as very Jay-ish, and "Cryptozoology" is a hidden track on that album, which is kind of fun. As with in-universe knowledge of Skybound, you only know it's there if you have VERY specific information available (although this song is much, much easier to find - it's just bundled with another one and presented as an 8 minute track with no interruption - and definitely not traumatic or time-rending). It's also just a fun track. Lyrically, this one touches on self-confidence and bizarre happenings. This entire track is a good fit for what I want to do here when it comes to Jay's Skybound recovery, but I like the second verse and chorus for that especially:

3. "Catastrophe!" by The Fold has the added bonus of being at least reasonably canon, thanks to the band showing up in the SOG finale. And also in prison at some point. (Ask me about how The Fold's existence in-universe also supports the existence of Fall Out Boy sometime!) Anyway! This is the one that triggers Jay's flashback, which is appropriate, because its lyrics have mild shades of classic Jay angst post-traumatic panic attacks. Granted, I'm trying to AVOID that trend, but the song was too good to pass up. Also, the guitar screech I mention is real, albeit VERY quiet. It catches me off guard if my volume is too high, though, so I thought it would work for Jay.

4."BREAKDOWN" by Tessa Violet is the track Jay shuffles to to get out of his own head. In terms of sound, it's a big jump from "Catastrophe!" - it starts with a bouncy, casual, almost understated beat that doesn't get intense til later in the song. "Catastrophe!" is intense right away. Lyrically, it's about violent recovery - not violent as in painful, just loud and confident, a Gerard Way style "in the face of extermination, say fuck you" anthem. It's also got some of the hand imagery from Skybound that I love so much.

Anyway - nice to see you in the inbox again! Best believe I'll be trying to figure out who you are :)

[yippeecahier]

I saw where you asked and-speak about their experience with top surgery without hormones and I wanted to share that I ALSO got top surgery before going on T.

I had been binding for about 10 years (two sports bras and then actual binders) and I was experiencing a lot of health issues from having breasts, so the fact that I was so sure that:

It was not the right time for hormones

A bigger priority was removing a source of pain and infection

My social and work lives were being affected by my body image and I was unable to bind for long enough to go to work AND have a social life after work

... all of this really helped me get the access I needed. Overall, it will help your case if you have more reasons than gender dysphoria for getting top surgery even if GD is the main issue for you. Something I told my surgeon and PCP (both of whom were very supportive of my choices) was "Even if I wake up tomorrow and decide this whole thing has been a farce and I'm actually a cishet woman now, I would still want them gone because of [giant list of reasons]."

To be completely honest, with all the issues I had, gender dysphoria wasn't even in the top 5 reasons I needed them gone. I think that helped my case tbh.

Anyways, I hope you get your surgery asap! I can't tell you what a difference it made for me literally overnight except that I woke up from surgery and went home feeling like everything finally made sense and I could start living my most authentic life.

All the best, bud. Please feel free to message me if you have other questions! I'll try my best to answer them.

Thank you so much!! Unfortunately, my breasts are very much average C cups, so they don't actually give me any problems re: pain/infection. I alternate between binders and sports bras (never doubling up and taking breaks on weekends when I'm alone), so that kind of helps with not being in perpetual pain, but doesn't help me prove a case where "even if I wake up tomorrow and decide this whole thing has been a farce and I'm actually a cishet woman now, I would still want them gone..."

The fact I've been perpetually waffling on surgery, too, doesn't help! I mean, sure, yeah, I've identified as trans for over 10 years off and on (mostly on) now, but part of why I covered my GD up was being cut off from all my friends and threatened with Christian all-girls boarding school after coming out. (I was even taken off my ADHD medications because my mom thought it was causing my gender dysphoria and I went with it because I was lirerally 14 and just wanted this to end, but it only aggravated my psych issues, which were further used against me getting any kind of gender confirmation and justifying me signing over my medical power of attorney at 18.) Additionally, after I got my wisdom teeth taken out over a year ago, something about this routine surgery got botched and I'm still numb in a quarter of my face and experience phantom pains. I'm not so sure now that I'm willing to risk that outcome with my chest, too. Part of me just thinks I'll just end up using binders off and on in perpetuity until I develop pain and infection enough to warrant surgery. I wish I was more upbeat about it, but I feel like I can't lie to you.

I reached out to and-speak because I saw their posts and it gave me one of those brief sparks of hope but alas, you caught me in the lull of reluctant acceptance of the situation I'm in.

[cielsosinfel]

I'm reading in fits and starts because my health nose-dived last month... and really ruined my attention span and energy levels in general... also I've been struggling to find books that hold my attention.

I'm still reading "Kill the Dead" by Tanith Lee which I LOVE, and should have finished by now since it's less than 200 pages, but alas... but I'm enjoying it immensely. It is the exact kind of grim fantasy with lush prose, well-defined character voices, bits of sardonic humor, and interesting (but not overwhelming) worldbuilding to keep me invested. There's also ample homoerotic subtext between the lead male protagonists and I'm obsessed with the idea of them. (Unfortunately there's no fic on Ao3- if fic ever existed, it was probably via email lists, Yahoo groups and personal websites on now defunct 90s/early 2000s web hosts. if not in mail-order fanzines. LMAO.)

Wait, I'll copy some bluesky posts I made (EXTREMELY LONG POST UNDER THE CUT):

1/21/24 Reading more of Kill The Dead. I do enjoy how Lee writes Dro's physical disability, and how he reacts to other people reacting to it

It's not like his disability never affects him, there are scenes where he's contending from the chronic pain worsening after exertion. But it just reads very /naturally/ to me as someone who also struggles with chronic pain that affects my ability to move around… And he's so pass agg its great

I really do appreciate how Lee write's Parl Dro living with his disability throughout the entire story: it's an ever-present part of his day-to-day, something he's used and knows how to live around, still gets frustrated by, the need to rest because he can't help pushing his leg past what it can really handle. The way he reacts to other people either pitying him, or trying to take advantage of him (the priest trying to sell him a horse for far too much money.) It reads very honest and relatable, compared to a lot of other books with disabled protagonists I've tried.

1/31/24 Obnoxious persistent Uncommonly Beautiful bard with major daddy issues who projects fraternal-paternal vibes onto the protag and also tries to kill him (ineffectually) confirmed BI (in a 70s/80s sff novel way) Honestly I want to write fic… There's very little Tanith Lee fic and 0 for this novel

2/5/24 God I ship the two dudes in this Tanith Lee book so bad and I KNOW. I KNOW THE VIBES ARE INTENDED. GODDDD and yet it still manages to be so straight. I really need to find the lesbian erotica she wrote under pseudonym, I have never read a single one. The younger beautiful bard who has nightmares of being beaten by his father and projects all sorts of things on the MC got caught trying to fuck a ghost trying to kill him and threw up and now has been taken captive by a bunch of men set on killing him for necrophilia…. Be still my heart Also he follows the MC around like an angry but desperate puppy, he describes him as an older brother and then tries to kill him ineffectually and proclaims he hates him but is terrified of wandering at night without him and has to constantly resist apologizing to him for Existing… Anyway. (also the bard is the one who is canon bi. The author made sure to mention that. Thank you ) How can I not ship them……

I wasn't super into Myal at the beginning of the book but he has grown on me SO MUCH. Just like he's grown on poor Parl Dro, who is so standoffish and stoic and yet feels responsible for Myal and worries over him, in his own way. And Myal can't really see past his own self-hate and self-pity and self-absorption to really see that.

He is just SO weird with Parl Dro: he hates him, he's attracted to him, he's desperate for his company and the feeling of safety even as much as he's scared of him and wanted to kill him, even as much as he's convinced Dro hates him and judges him, he keeps projecting his daddy issues on Dro while also viewing him as fucked up distant brother figure... dfjgkdfhl

Also the glorious amount of good old-fashioned whump that happens to him.

At the part I've read up to, Myal has ended up kidnapped/ghostnapped by Ciddey, the once-haunted woman whose ghost-sister was killed by Parl Dro, so she commits suicide despite Myal's efforts to save her... and then haunts him from thereon, in order to use him to get revenge on Parl Dro. But basically at the part I'm at, he gets seduced by her- even while knowing she as a ghost feeds off the life-force of the living, and he's giving his own life-force with every moment he's near her, touching her. He is just SO EASY, and Ciddey knows it, and Myal knows it, and he hates himself for it.

But OK. OK, the kidnap scene is just... so horny. Please.

I just love him... he's such a mess... And he suffers so much... And he needs to be rescued by a tall, dark brooding not-quite-hero so often...

Also I loooove this exchange Parl Dro has with Sable, the healer-woman hermit, while they're taking care of Myal's almost-dead body:

[Sable] "That's why you're here, eh? And him--somehow he knew the right time, too. So he's cleverer than you think." [Parl Dro] "Or than he thinks."

The fact Parl Dro reads Myal so easily and does have this respect for him, not just for his musical skill but his like... bull-headed tenacity, his will to survive despite everything thrown in his way. And Myal can't see that!! He's so wrapped up in himself and his own sense of eternal inadequacy and disappointing everyone around him. kdgksfhfh

Also here are some pieces of prose that really stood out to me while reading:

The sunlight, creeping like a cat, had almost reached Myal, when Dro spoke to her.

Dro sat, the branches loose in his hand, listening. Fine as silk threads drawn through the dark, the notes sewed over and about each other. The melody was oblique, tragic, stabbing somewhere inside the heart with a sweet piercing pain, removed yet immediate. Like that of any excellent minstrel, Myal Lemyal's music could find out emotions that did not belong in the humors the mind of the listener, and plant them there and let them grow while the song sang itself. But Myal was much better than excellent. Myal, playing the bizarre instrument his father had killed to get, was one of the lost golden gods from the morning of the earth.

Then a cold sighing came over the ravine, and stars scattered along Parl Dro's spine.

The fire was low. A crimson branch had broken open, whistling as the sap bled from it. The fortress wall hid the lights of the village from Parl Dro the man. Only the mild passage of the river at its summer low was audible, and sometimes a treacly chorus of frogs.

There was a thin noise of water, not in the ravine, but to one side, along the edge. A spring flickered from the rock and over, uselessly, into the gully.

Dakrness swirled from the thickets, the trees, from pockets in the ground. The sky, a smooth sheet of dark lavender,put out a thousand stars.

As the flame fluttered around the shoe, destroyed it, and expired on the flags, Dro stared at what was left of Ciddey Soban, plastered, insectilre and beautiful, on the wall. She never moved. With vast extinguished eyes, she gazed at him. And then she melted like frost. And then she was gone.