#The Doc and The Con Series

[buscandoelparaiso]

recuperata anche la seconda stagione di Doc, le mie considerazioni richieste da: nessuno

- devi sempre svenire o non sei malato

- ho chiesto di liberarci di alba MA MANCO A FA' COSÍ PERÒ 😳

- 🩷💖💘💝💕💞💓🩷 RICCARDO BONVEGNA X2 XSEMPRE 🩷💖💘💝💕💞💓💗

- nella vita siate resilienti come quella rimbambita della figlia di andrea che nonostante tutto si arrampicherebbe su spollon anche in punto di morte

- avete notato che ogni volta che torna gabriel schiatta qualcuno? io indagherei

- antiobiotico ad ampio spettro vale per tutto oppure c'e un'unica alternativa di diagnosi: il lupus

- la serie la reggono sulle loro spalle la caposala e enrico che spero non ci abbandonino mai perché sono i personaggi migliori del telefilm

- stupido sexy cesconi mannaggia a te

- giasau ci mancherà molto ma siamo quasi pronti a sostituirlo con jack george

- se qualcuno mi nomina il cane blu compio l'insano gesto

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 (𝘐 𝘏𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘰 𝘈𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘖𝘧 𝘐𝘵)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’d never expect a mission going sideways would result in a bonding moment between you and your boyfriend. Or: Bucky’s back is hurting and you offer a massage.

Warnings: rape/non-con, sexual abuse, (all past events), massages, ptsd, Hydra Themes, implied Hydra Trash Party.

Note: Thank you to @buckys-metal-arm for the idea!!! Your support means a lot to me!!

[Series Masterlist]

“Okay. So you did the shower and you’ve had the conversations. That’s good, James. If you keep working at it, I’m sure you’ll be fine having that kind of relationship soon.” Dr. Raynor said, scribbling down a note in her notebook.

For some reason, that made Bucky..uneasy. This is what he wanted, right? The thing he was working so damn hard towards? And it’s what you wanted. He knew that. What kind of waste would he be if he couldn’t give you that?

He knew how people who didn’t have sex were treated. And even if he wasn’t aware of how it was in the 21st century—he knew what it was like in the 30s. Married women who wouldn’t have sex? Prudes, old maids. Married men who weren’t sleeping with their wives—or women at all? Homosexuals, f—

He did not have time to get into those feelings right now. The point was, if he couldn’t give you that, he would be defective.

Was he defective? Damaged goods?

He blinked away the water in his eyes before Raynor looked up.

“Now, tell me, how has your week been? What did you do this week so far?” She asked.

You scrolled through your phone as you laid on the bed, your back propped against the pillows. Just then, Bucky stepped out from the en-suite bathroom, a towel around his waist. You knew he was comfortable with this, as you were directly across the room and as long as you didn’t make any sudden movements.

His back faced the wall to your left as he attempted to bend down to reach the handle of the middle drawer on his side, where he kept his underwear.

“Fuck,” he grunted under his breath as he straightened back out. You knew his back was bothering him. It had been hurting all of yesterday too. You knew it was from an injury he’d gotten the day before yesterday, from a mission that had gone awry.

“Buck, you really should see a doc—“ You began.

“No. I’m fine.” He replied, turning his head to look at you as he held his back like a little old lady.

Yeah, okay, the doctor idea was dumb. He was terrified of hated doctors. And it wasn’t like he could just take some pain pills, due to the Serum.

“I could give you a massage?” You offered after a moment. He stared at you, finally turning his body to face you. His head was tilted down slightly, his eyes darting down and to the side. It was his typical ‘confused, unsure, kicked puppy’ expression. It made you want to grab the sides of his head and pepper his face with kisses.

“Okay,” he nodded slowly, after a moment. And then, without putting any other clothes on besides the towel, he walked towards the other side of the bed and laid down on his chest. It was an insane amount of trust.

You grinned. He’d turned his head to face you and he gave a weak smile back as you crawled across the bed to be next to him. He turned his head the other way, still looking at you through the corner of his eye. You knew it was more physically comfortable for him to lay that way, and you were proud of him. Finally, comfort had won over caution. It was a big step for him.

“I’m gonna touch you know, ‘kay?” You warned.

“Okay.” He hummed his approval as you slowly extended your arms. You graced your fingertips against his back, gentle before you rested your entire hands against him. Baby steps.

Of course you noticed the way his thighs pressed together tightly, but you didn’t say anything. The trust was still there.

You began to gently knead into the muscles. “S’helping?” You asked.

“Mm. Feels good.” He hummed. You chuckled at his response.

As you began to move lower down his back, you finally noticed how fuckin’ tightly he was clenching his asscheeks. It wasn’t a huge deal to you, but he was so tense you could see it in his thighs. You had noticed him bringing his hand up to gently hold the bedsheets beside his head, and yeah, his lazy grin had gone away, but you’d assumed he was calm.

“Need me to stop?” You said after a moment.

“No,” he said after a moment of consideration. “S’okay. I trust you.”

He clenched a little less tightly.

He cleared his throat as he walked into the kitchen the next day.

You were at the counter, making some sandwiches for lunch. The clock on the microwave read 11:00 AM.

“Hey,” you said, as usual.

“Hey. Uhm..thanks. For last night.” He said, fiddling with his hands.

“You already thanked me, Bubba. S’not a problem.” You grinned as you took the two paper plates to the counter. He quietly thanked you as he accepted his plate before setting it down.

“No, I mean—thank you. You had a helluva opportunity to—“ he took his outstretched hand and quietly jerked it an inch forward. You were really impressed that your mind hadn’t exploded like the emoji at the gesture.

“—but you didn’t.” He continued. “So..thank you.”

You shook your head once. “Uhm—no, you really don’t need to thank me for not—for that. Like, you actually don’t.” You stumbled the words out awkwardly.

“I..made this really weird, didn’t I?” He said after a minute.

“A little,” you smiled lovingly. “But it’s okay. Cause I love you. And you really don’t need to thank me for not being a..I don’t even have the words to describe it.” You chuckle a little.

He smiled warmly. “I love you too.”

A/n: remember the first part!!! I’m going somewhere with that I promiseee

graphics by @saradika-graphics

[frenchbreadandeggs]

The Other Variant of Her

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

summary: Out of nowhere, Gwen Stacy appeared on your Earth, inviting you to the Spider Society in Nueva York. As you reluctantly took her offer, you were shown the beauty of every spider person around HQ. Meeting the founder of the group, Miguel O’Hara. You never knew him, but it seems that he does.

gn!reader, also a spider person

cw. angst, soon.

After I watched ATSV, saw Miguel, I was like—why not make it more sadder? Also made this while I'm fucking writing a travel log for our project, action paper, and capstone. I SWEAR my obsession on writing fanfictions never ends. Gotta go so I can study for finals and defense this week. This was supposed to be a full fic and not by chapters but oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Shit!”

You dodge at a car that was thrown in your way, quickly swinging yourself using your web towards a building to land on. As usual you do your superhero things around Kings, York New, beating up villains and chasing down thieves and criminals. But you sure do that this Doctor Octopus you’re fighting isn’t yours, you felt like it was not the doctor that kept chasing you down.

“Come back here you—!” he somehow glitched, a series of colors switched with his body for a split second before Doc Ock shrieked as the grip of his talons of his mechanical tentacles loosened on the blue brick walls, his body now falling.

Quickly, you shot a web on his chest, shooting another one to hold yourself from sliding towards the end of the building as you tried to pull Doc Ock. When he reached the top of the building, you grabbed him by the collar and dragged him on the concrete floor. Not wanting to risk him to go rampage again and destroy half of the city, you wrapped him up with webs, securing his mechanical tentacles on the wall.

He grunted, still recovering from his unusual glitching. You’re going to ask Doctor Strange about this later.

As you were going to bring Doc Ock to the wizard, a person stood in your way—or more like jumped out of nowhere and blocked your way. They wore a white spider suit with pink and black accents.

“Woah,” startled, you backed up, covering the still recovering Doc Ock, “I didn’t know there’s a comic con today—”

You were stopped by a strange tingling at the back of your head, you have spider senses, but this was different.

“Wha—don’t tell me you’re?”

“Holy—you look so cool!”

“What—”

“I’m Gwen Stacy, you are?” she reached her hand towards you after she took her mask off. Blonde short hair with pink dip-dye, the side of her head was shaved, blue eyes and eyebrow piercing. She seemed harmless even though you are still skeptical, but your guts said she is not a problem—and your gut is always right.

“SpiderSlinger.” you introduced yourself, taking Gwen’s hand and shaking it.

“So,” you started, “This is not a joke alright? Is there any cosplay going on somewhere here?”

She snorted, like what you said made no sense to her.

“No, I’m from another universe—I take care of anomalies like that Doc Ock you have there.” she pointed at your back, you looked back to see Doc Ock glitching.

You were not closed about the multiverse existing as Doctor Strange has already mentioned this to you. Though you did not expect for a person outside your universe to come and visit—let alone take care of a person who is not supposed to be in your world.

You looked at her, tilting your head at the side as you grabbed Doc Ock using your web shooter and slung him on your shoulders, unbothered by his weight. Lifts were helpful for you, “By yourself?”

Not too long you tagged along with Gwen, she has explained to you that she is in an elite group called Spider Society where they keep the multiverse from any threats and prevent it from collapsing. Very ambitious you think, the size of the multiverse was incomparable to your thoughts, knowing it is larger than what some people might think. On your way to HQ Gwen mentioned to you, she received a call from someone who’s named ‘Jessica Drew’. You minded your own business when Gwen started to respond to her watch with hushed words, you might have guessed that they were arguing. Gwen sounded pleading all of a sudden.

“Are you sure I’m allowed to go with you?” you asked her after she ended her call. Gwen nodded at you, her head seems like it is going to fall off her neck if she does not stop.

“Absolutely, I already notified them that you’re coming with me.” she handed you a blue wristband, “Here, to keep you from glitching.”

You took the wristband from her and wore it, “Thanks…?”

You have not experienced the ‘glitching’ she was telling you, so it might’ve been like Doc Ock’s situation earlier. Gwen tapped on her watch before a portal appeared in front of you. Your eyes widened in amazement, multiple neon-orange hexagons stood up from the dark but sparkling void—some looked like singular strands of web stretched across the portal, forming in some kind of path to who Spiderperson knows where.

“You got to do this?” Doc Ock still hanging on your shoulder, you pointed at the portal that was formed by Gwen’s watch.

Gwen laughed, smiling at you, not realizing she was showing her gap teeth, “Yeah, all the time.”

“Sick,” you said, still gaped at the portal, “should I…?” you looked at the Doc Ock on your shoulder then to Gwen.

“Oh, yeah definitely.”

With a lift, you pushed Doc Ock inside the portal, his unconscious body sucked into the portal’s abyss. Gwen then looked at you with a reassuring nod and went into the portal, following Doc Ock. You stared at the portal for a while, the city is fine for now since there were no attacks other than Ock—though you were unsure if this was the right idea.

You bit your lip.

“Fuck it she already announced my arrival, might as well go in now.”

Biting back the hesitation of not going in, you leaped into the portal leaving your worries for your city and jumped into the unknown.

You were thrown on the floor face flat on the smooth pavement, you grunted, muffling ‘I’m fine’ even though you know no one would care less. Surprisingly a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you up to your feet.

“Thanks,” you said, patting the dust off your spider suit. You looked at the scenery around you.

And holy shit you could not believe your eyes at what you are looking at right now. Buildings were everywhere and each building had a bridge attached and led to another building. There were multiple pillars sticking out and attached on each building. That did not amazed you though, it was the massive fucking spiderpeople lounging at the area you are right now.

Not even a hundred were here. It might be thousands of different spider people and you’re one of them. You stared, still in shock at how much spider people are with you here. Taking a hold of Gwen, you gripped both of her shoulders and shook her.

“This is amazing…” you grinned at her, she mirrored yours.

Suddenly, you felt like you were forgetting someone.

Realization hits you, with high alert you asked Gwen, “Where’s Doc Ock?”

“I took care of him,” she placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring look.

“Ok,” you took a relaxed exhale, “Well what you showed me was super amazing—very fucking cool—now I want to join—well if that is fine, it looks like y’all won’t be having understaffing for a long time though.”

“Oh—dang, then you should meet Mi—”

“Ooo who’s the newbie here Gwen?”

A distinct voice captured your attention, looking at your back you saw two spider people walking towards you and Gwen.

Pavitr Prabhakar and Hobie Browe were their names given to you in exchange for your Spider name. They were fun to be with, Hobie and Pavitr's shenanigans immediately started right after they met you. You met other spider people, them greeting you back gave you a tingling feeling inside you—maybe it's the fact that they are cool and decided to notice you.

Not for too long Pav said his goodbyes and went back to his Earth while Hobie tagged along when Gwen is guiding you to this ‘Miguel O’Hara’ person. She told you that he was the founder of Spider Society and may or may not have severe anger issues.

“The guy has FANGS?” you looked at Gwen with disbelief.

“Yup, heard that it paralyzes anyone he bites with it—with venom I suppose—obviously.”

She then turns at you, “Alright, we’ll be entering his office. I just hope he isn’t pissed off.”

“He is alway pissed, what do you mean?” Hobie interjected.

“You guys are scaring me—should I like—give him something so he won’t do…?” you wiggled your fingers, hoping they understand what you mean. Hobie just snorts, Gwen shakes her head and takes a grab of your wrists and pulls you with her.

“No, no need.”

The three of you entered a blue dimmed room. Hobie sat on one of the metal seats, watching the scene slowly unfold in front of him. There was a floating platform just above you and Gwen, both of you stood still. If you squint just a little there are yellow-orange colored monitors, cool, you thought, your world’s technology was below this Nueva York’s tech. There on the platform was a man’s back, broad shoulders and messy hair.

You are a patient person, but the platform was painfully slow.

Finally, the platform reached the floor, he did not turn around or anything but continued working on his devices.

“So this is the spider person you are talking about, Gwen?” he spoke with a husky voice. His attention was still on the screens, dragging his fingers on them as he spoke with Gwen.

“Yeah, they’re from Earth-14215. When I came there, they already took care of the anomaly.”

With a blink he was already in front of you, his body looming over you like a vulture. If you were not intimidated by him, you would admire the structure of his face—everything about him. 

His eyes rounded on you, inspecting you like you were prey. There was something bugging you, he felt…something that you could not comprehend.

His intense stare at you made you feel like you needed to remove your mask, so you did. Your hair looked perfectly fine even though you wore a tight mask. Looking at him with a toothy grin, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

At a moment you saw a glimpse of Miguel’s face in shock before turning his back at you. Did you scare him? Or maybe disappoint him? You sure hope not. You watched him walking back to his monitor, he called for someone named Lyla, in which in response a yellow woman appeared in thin air. He spoke to her, though you could not hear them talking.

Not knowing what to do, you turned to Gwen in which she just shrugged—not expecting the lack of emotion from Miguel. You walked towards Hobie and sat next to him, still amazed at him and all of those inconsistent art he has, he did tell you he does not believe in consistency.

You and Hobie started talking to each other, Gwen butting in afterwards. Hobie started talking about the consequence of industrial revolution, him not liking the prime minister—whom you do not know, another consequence about capitalism and it went on and on.

“Hey,” Miguel called, the three of you looking at him at the same time, “No—no the new one.”

You stood up and walked towards him, he tossed you something. You caught it, it looks like a watch of some sorts, similar to Gwen and Hobie and the other spider people have.

“That’s a goober—”

“A gizmo.” Lyla interrupted

“Whatever,” he tries to shoo the AI away from him but Lyla glitches to another place away from him, “that gadget gives you the ability to jump to a different universe. That’s it, I’ll give you instructions for your first mission…Welcome to the club.” he stared at you for a while, a kind of longing feeling from him vibed out you just shrugged it.

“Thanks!...Boss?”

He shook his head, then walked away from you, “Don’t call me that, it’s weird.”

“Huh, alright then. I’ll call you Miguel if that is fine with you.”

He did not respond.

Not bothered by his lack of response, you ran back to Gwen and Hobie, waving the ‘goober’ in your hand. Gwen smiled whilst Hobie greeted you ‘welcome to the spidey club’, it was never really your intention to join but it seems that you got in.

You’ll wait for the first mission Miguel will send you.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - There's so much airing even I'm struggling to keep up

That's why I'm late.

Aug 2023 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Laws of Attraction (Sat iQIYI) 6 of 8 - Oh no. I am totally in love with the escaped young master & his smitten bodyguard. How did that happen? (Be careful P’Thee the broken ones are the most tempting. Tin understands.) NO SINGING! Trust Thai BL to destroy any moment of sentiment I might have by picking up a damn guitar. And we finally get Charn’s Batman villain origin story. Good use of back hug! This is a GREAT show. Melodramatic as fuck, but GREAT. Gotta say this pair in NOT Thailand’s best kissers but not everyone can be Zee++. Still I think that + singing + a touch of overacting is likely to keep this out of the 10/10 club.

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 1 of 12 - Rich /poor dynamic with characters & set up exactly as expected. Chimon is great. Perth is good too. A real rich-kid bully, Heirs level or Japanese F4 evil. All the teachers are also corrupt (that’s kinda a Thai thing, I think because they can't call out the government). I gotta say, Marc is doing a bang-up job as the jock friend, too. And the kiss twist was fun. All in all, this is good. And you know me, I love a high school BL.

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Sat YT) ep 1 of 12 - The time travel historical romance many of us have been waiting for. Adaption of y-novel by Violet Rain, from the producers of Lovely Writer. Heartbroken architect is transported to the 1930s. Nonkul (actor playing Jom) keeps reminding me of Cho Han Gyeol from Love Mate. It’s a bit slow to start but interesting when it hits its stride. The pacing feels like a Chinese historical (makes me wonder if this with be 4 or 6 act structure). Nonkul is a wonderful actor. They weren’t sharing the screen for long, but the leads seem good together. I’m in. 

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 2 of 10 - Well. It’s entertaining, I'll say that for it. Addiction. Manipulation. Queer as folk & all that jazz. (No jazz for you, Thailand. Oh no! I’m giving them ideas.) I would like it to turn out that Mew is actually manipulating everything. This is his revenge con on Top. Mew is, after all, supposed to be "the smart one." Gotta say, this is darn near perfect casting. But honestly? This show could just be about Ray & Sand. Their story (and them in it) is easily the most riveting. Sand better be careful, the wildly broken ones are always the best in bed, because they don’t care ao they have no shame and that's HOT.

Hidden Agenda (Sun GMMTV YouTube) ep 6 of 10 - I like how soft Joke’s version of seme flirting is. It’s mellow, like his voice gets with Zo. I also liked Zo casually chatting to his friends about how he feels about being flirted with. His friends gave good advice & were supportive. Oh no! A boy in a BL went into the rain ALONE. What ON EARTH will happen next? The argument was interesting, because it gave us insight into Zo’s maturity & ability to handle a relationship. I’ve been wondering why anyone would like him, and now I know. Joke & Nita’s backstory is fun. I like the gay boy protecting the straight girl reverse beard action. On a complete aside, I really like Dunk’s makeup in this series. It’s very Kdrama.

Low Frequency (Sat iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - The house ghosts trying to help are cute. The plot is at least... a plot? I don’t know. Dias Ex Mafia is a new one on me. (COME ON THAT’S A GREAT PUN, PRAISE ME!) I’m ready for this show to be over. 

Be Mine Super Star (Mon Viki) ep 7 of 12 - Honestly, the whole time I’m watching this I’m just thinking I wish JaFirst got better scripts. Speaking of, I don’t object, but these characters sure moved into sex fast. I really don’t quite understand how Daddy & Hot Doc got together so fast either. It feels like their story was meant to be spread out into the other episodes but didn’t get cut in properly, so it ended up all in this one? Or is it just the pacing is particularly bad in this show?

Dinosaur Love (Sun iQIYI) ep 8 of 10 eps - I have no idea what is going on. What are all of Dino’s friends doing? What do they want? what’s their point in the story? I’m even annoyed by Peak, and love him. Sex scene which they tried to make sexy. Operative word being tried. Although, there was some interesting after sex discussion about mechanics. And there was a cute bathtub chat about pet names. But this show is a lotta work for very little pay out. 

Wedding Plan (Wed YT & iQIYI) ep 5 of 7 - I like the sunshine sides? PUNCH LOM 2023! Trash watch here!

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 1 of 10 - Pushy older bro is Earn from Love Sick, yay! And he’s the hyung of a side couple, which is "best friend’s older brother" trope! My favorite!!!! Have we seen this in BL before? I don't think so. Anyway, DOUBLE YAY! The main couple… eh. You know I loathe stalker characters. And I viscerally HATE this one. Almost as bad as SCOY, not sure I can take it, actually. The squealing of "Tammy!" is worse on my ear than any off-key guitar strumming. I may have to DNF or fast forward through all his parts… but he’s the lead. What to do? I do like the “Chinese” businessman actor. He very cute. (On an aside, I was just reading about commercial real estate as the loophole for foreign property investors in Thailand. Cool plot point.) I’m getting a Taming of the Shrew vibes from this. Just me? For now it's living at the bottom of the list for sheer unadulterated loathing of Phumjai. Not the actor, he was my favorite and only good thing about Our Days. But this character? NO.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Jun & Jun (Korea Thur Viki) ep 5 of 8 - This is basically the gay Boys Over Flowers of my heart. Or as close as I think we’ll get from BL. I like both of the 2nd leads, even though I suspect Simon of actually being into everyone’s fav hyung. Cute to see the Mr Heart boys back on my screen, oh so briefly. Such a Taiwan trick, reusing a beloved couple like that. Nice gimmie to the fans. Meanwhile, Choi Jun - boy sure knows his angles but his motives? Please don’t let this be another arranged marriage beard situation? I can’t take 2 in the same month. 

Stay By My Side (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 8 of 10 - The boyfriends ep! JC is biggest simp spoiling his baby EVER. Taiwan = the sappiest of saps. “Owning the same key” is such a cute way of putting it. Also I love the "knew all along" twist, made me happy. The angst is silly but that's normal in Taiwanese BL. 

Love Class Season 2 (Korea Fri Viki) eps 3-4 of 10 - Pair 1: Lee Hyun is such a wide-open, bleeding, no-shame romantic. It’s kinda great. Boy has a poet’s soul & NO artifice. J-Min is startlingly good, very nuanced. I know I keep saying that, but I’m v surprised by his skillz. And… add in creepy stalker, goody. Pair 2: The "other student couple" I’m not into, also NO SINGING. Pair 3: The underwear gift was so fucking funny. “I’m going reap the boxers I sewed” is next level script excellence. These two are brilliant at gayest-of-gay flirt-negging, I'm INTO IT. One of my housemates said, in response to my audible cackling, "You seem to be enjoying your shows extra much tonight."  

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 2 of 8 - Oh I love love love them. It’s so old school yaoi and SO JBL. No other country could produce this kind of show. I love this little feminist aspect where the weatherman treats his boy like a 1950s housewife & said boy thinks that makes him an indentured servant. Clocks. But also, the way our weatherman LOOKS at his boy. He is so in love. (It looks like we skip next week for holiday reasons?) 

Sing My Crush (Korea Wed iQIYI) eps 5-6 of 8 - It remains enjoyable. 

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (Japan Thu Gaga) ep 6 of 12 - At least we know Minato actually desires Shin, he just won’t do anything about it. Also, Minato chose the perfect person to come out to. That's nice for him. Finally, Shu & Asuka are glorious. Sides are winning these days.

Stay Still (Hong Kong Tues YouTube) ep 3 of 5 - A proper faen fatal has entered one of our couples. She won too, since she ended up marrying the boy. Still not sure about this show (and it should have convinced me by now). I definitely like the tattoo couple better than the reunion couple. Still, not a lot happened in this episode and this is short series, they don’t have time to waste. It remains intriguing but not... erm... good.

In case you missed it

River Knows Fish Heart is leaving Gaga soon. It's a decent little bully romance Chinese BL (pulp) - yes, you read that right. Actual CBL. Not great, but if you're into the CBL stuff, especially the early stuff, this has some of that tenor only made in 2018 (I have a feeling it was shot in 2017 and skated through). Anygay, just staying. Catch it before it disappears because with CBL once they gone, often, they gone forever.

Friend. Boy Friend a new Thai BL pulp was supposed to start airing on Aug 19th. I can't find it. Neither can MDL.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Everything from Thailand seems to be dropping on Sat & Sun this month. It's a good thing I got quiet weekends for a while. Also the BL firehose is upon us, so much content.

Starting this week:

8/20 (tomorrow) My Universe series (Sun iQIYI) 24 eps - This is sampler pack BL, 12 pairs, each pair gets 2 eps, not sure on the order they’ll drop. Known couples include EarthBank from Destiny Seeker and KaownahTurbo from Love Stage!!!, fresh faces otherwise. Jane to direct.

8/22 Kisseki: Dear to Me formerly known as Miracle (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) 13 eps - From screenwriter Lin Pei Yu (We Best Love, H3: Trapped) features a student doctor forced to take care of a gangster. I love the premise and like the writer.  

8/23 Why R U? (Korean remake iQIYI) 8 eps - I find everything about this hilarious. I mean if Korea remakes it, we lose all the sexy and then... would we have a story at all? No we would not. Not even for 8 short eps. It’d be like one of those mesh shopping bags.

8/24 Man Suang (Thailand movie, domestic cinema release) - historical drama about Thai burlesque with KP’s MileApo. 

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Another show reviewing itself. (Dino Love)

Don't insult bastards, Lom. (Wedding trash)

I would like this adorable romcom GMMTV, please and thank you.

See what I mean? Trixy.

Thanks boys. (All Only Friends)

(Last week) 

[definitelynotstable]

Camomile pt. 7 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10

AN: Please lemme know if you are liking this series I'm desperate for reassurance and validation <3

Synopsis: You're no longer in the hands of the enemy but the memories still linger. Ghost helps you through a nightmare. Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: injuries, nightmares, torture, kinda graphic, non-con touching (men are creeps) Ghost x gn!Reader (callsign Rags): Hurt/comfort. Loads of fluff. Nightmare trope!

———

It was pitch black when you woke. You reached up to tug at the eye mask when a warm hand covered yours, pulling it gently over your head. Cobalt eyes met yours.

“Ghost.” You breathe. You missed him.

“The very same.” He replies with a gentle nod. Soap and Gaz have left and the Lieutenant has dragged a chair over to your bedside; barely leaving any room for his legs. He is leaning forwards, tattooed forearm resting on the rail and dangling near your thigh. He’s no longer in uniform or tactical gear; his mask replaced by a simple black balaclava. Suddenly you realise you have no idea where you are. He tilts his head, watching you as though he can see the thoughts running rampant behind your eyes.

“Where are we?” You ask, thankful your voice isn’t as scratchy as it was before. Ghost leans back a little but keeps his arms resting on the rail.

“A base somewhere in Europe, I’ve not really asked to be honest.”

You frown, “That’s unlike you.”

“Yeah well,” he laughs softly, though it isn’t a happy sound, “geography wasn’t quite the priority, was it, love?”

“Suppose not,” you mumble. His eyes soften and he reaches out to pat your knee.

“I’ll ask Price when I see ‘im. It’s somewhere nearby, though. Didn’t have enough time to RTB.”

You nod slowly, fingering one of the wires by your side. Ghost just watches, waiting for you to speak.

“No one’s told me anything.” You feel like a child being left out of adult discussions. “Haven’t even spoken to the doc, Price didn’t properly debrief me – even Soap and Gaz wouldn’t talk about it. What am I missing here?”

The Lieutenant knew it was coming. He’d waited to see you just for this reason. You needed rest, not intel.

Ghost sighs. “How about I get you a cuppa? Let’s start there.”

———

Broken ribs, cigarette burns, slight pneumonia, minor internal bleeding, a handful of lacerations – to name a few. Ghost had brought you your file and held your steaming mug of camomile while you flipped through.

“What’s this?” You ask, pointing to a thick black line, roughly drawn. “Why’s someone redacting my personal medical shit?”

“The same reason Price won’t debrief you yet – you need rest, Rags.” He swipes the file from your hands and before you can argue settles the steaming mug in your grasp instead. You glare at him as you try not to spill it, craning your neck to take a sip. Ghost shakes his head and wraps an arm behind your back, supporting your weight while he readjusts the pillows. You lean back, his hand lingering until it’s pressed between your warmth and the bed. He lowers himself back into the chair, his hands wrapped around his own mug.

“That isn’t fair.” You finally say, too tired to argue but not willing to let the subject drop. “I have the right to know.”

Ghost takes a long sip before replying. “You do.”

“Then why–“

–“Because it’s a lot.” He says, cobalt eyes firm as they hold your gaze. “It’s a lot and you aren’t well yet. You can barely sit up on your own and can’t stay awake for more than a couple of hours. Please trust me, you’ll know in time.”

“But I want to know now,” your mumble, looking down as tears prickle against your will. The Lieutenants eyes soften.

“I know you do.”

“I just don’t like not knowing things.” A tear escapes. You swipe at it angrily.

“I know you don’t.”

“I just –“

–“I know.” He nods, wrapping a hand around your wrist, sliding it up to your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Your lip is wobbling now but Ghost doesn’t move. His thumb swiping over the soft part of your wrist. Back and forth.

“I know, Rags.”

And you get the feeling that he does. He doesn’t talk much about his past but you can recall a few months ago when a mission went awry and you walked in on Gaz stitching him up – shirt rolled to hang loosely around his neck. Scars weren’t abnormal for soldiers, but the markings were repetitive and consistent. Corporal punishment. Something you were all too familiar with as of late.

The Lieutenant doesn’t stop. Gentle and slow. Letting you know you were with him and you were safe. He watches as you fight the sleep weighing heavily on your eyelids.

And when your eyes fall shut and your breathing deepens he still stays.

———

“Ah, дорогая,” a voice whispers menacingly in your ear. Fingers stroke down your cheek, your chest and down over your navel. Your stomach muscles ripple and flinch away on impulse. The chain rattles as you lean away from his touch. His grin widens, yellow teeth glinting.

“Ready to talk?”

You clench your teeth; jaw locked and tongue pressed to the roof of your mouth.

“Still not talking, дорогая?” He’s rougher now, hand coming to grasp your throat, the squeeze a warning.

“I have nothing to say.” You spit out, swallowing against his hand. He chuckles.

“So feisty.” He shakes his head, patting your cheek roughly. “It won’t last. You’ll be screaming soon. I’ve always found the screams of women far more satisfying than men.”

The smell of burnt flesh wafts up to your nose and you look down. He’s holding a lighter against your bare torso. Why can’t you feel it? You watch as your flesh melts away into a gaping trench; your eyes watering at the stench. Blood bubbles and boils around the edges. The pain hits you in a wave, bursting and overflowing. The damn breaks and a scream rips from your throat. He laughs then, tipping his head back as he watches you writhe.

“Rags!” Hands shake you roughly, wrapping around your shoulders. You try to shake them off but they refuse to let go.

“Rags!”

Your eyes snap oven, hair sticks to your sweat covered face and you fight the hands holding you still.

“No, no, no, please!” You can’t help but cry, twisting in their grip. “Please.”

“Rags.” The voice is soft but firm. “Look at me.”

That voice. Where have you heard that voice?

You wrench your eyes open, tears pool and trickle down your cheeks. Cobalt blue stares back down at you, blond brows creased in concern.

“Rags? Are you with me?”

You’re gasping like a fish out of water. Chest heaving; breath ragged.

“G–Ghost?”

His mask has slipped down, lower than you’ve ever seen it. With a shaking hand you tug it back up. He catches your wrist, a finger circles and tickles your palm.

He nods, his other hand stretches out and gently brushes strand of hair away from your forehead. “S’alright. I’m here. You’re safe.”

You feel so tired. Rung out like a rag and set to dry in the wind. His hand has settled on your cheek. Cautious and gentle. “They took my camomile.” You whisper and Ghost tilts his head, confused.

“What do you mean?”

Your face crumples under his concerned gaze.The thoughts running through your mind are no longer logical. “The camomile I keep in my spare pocket – they took it.”

His thumb swipes under your eye, catching a tear. He frowns, “That’s ok, I’ve got some with me.”

Your chest heaves again and a sob slips from your mouth. “I was worried you wouldn’t have any left and Soap and Gaz only drink coffee – Price too.”

“Oh, darling.” He breathes, eyes sad as he strokes your jaw.

–“and you would have no-one to drink camomile with if I was gone.” You gasp, now clutching at his own wrist was you ramble. Your breathing is picking up again, a machine beeps more rapidly behind you.

Ghost’s face has crumpled completely as he watches you, unsure what to do. Your grip on him tightens, almost grasping the Lieutenant as though he will slip away.

“Would you like a hug?” He asks, throat constricting. He knows how hard it is to accept touch after experiencing the nonconsensual grip of the enemy. You nod frantically. It feels like you are falling apart at the seems and you need him to hold you while you sew yourself back together.

Slowly – making sure his hands are always in your line of sight – Ghost collapses the bedrail and slips in beside you.

“Show me where I can put my hands, love.” He murmurs in your ear and with shaking hands you guide his arms around you. You settle against his broad chest, your breathing slowly syncing with his own.

“Thank you.” The words so quiet he can barely hear it. He tucks you in closer, resting his chin against the top of your head.

“This ok?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod gently against him.

“Stay?”

“No place I’d rather be.”

— — —

Masterlist

Next Part:

[whatthefishh]

until we bleed

Rydal Keener x F!Reader ; part of the Oxford Comma series

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: swearing, an unnecessary amount of big words being used, smut, pinv, um... slight dub con... drama...

Beta read by the lovely @xbellaxcarolinax who basically jumped on the doc every time I helplessly texted her to ask if I was being stupid, and special s/o to @melodygatesauthor for helping me talk out the smut hehe

The charity gala was a front for the girls to get dressed up and the men to boast about their new business ventures. The charity mentioned in the invitation was picked out by the dean’s wife, a hedge fund manager – a most noble career – and she had already swindled enough out of the guests for the entrance fee before the scheduled auction later that evening. 

You didn’t want to go but you couldn’t really tell Rydal that, especially after the whole thing with Chester just last week. He had been a little down since then, his skin halfway healed from where the skin had broken. You couldn’t help but feel a current of electricity pass through you straight to your core whenever you looked at the slightly swollen pout he was sporting because of it. And the bastard knew it, too. He had been using the pout, with the added weight of his baby cow eyes, to get his way for the past few days, easily swaying you into submission for the littlest things. 

Which is how you ended up at the pretentious gathering being thrown in some philanthropic attempt to absolve the attendees of their greed. The dress you got for this event specifically was more expensive than any you’d ever worn before, the black satin silk of it tickling your calves where it hit. Your heels were new and not broken in, the thin straps sitting across your fresh pedicure — also something he insisted on paying for, picking out your nail colour for you. A glossy soft pink, a shade that reminded you of the Chanel perfume he had gifted you with. 

Rydal had taken you out to buy an outfit when you tried to tell him you couldn’t go with him to the gala because you had nothing to wear, rolling his eyes at what he knew was you trying to weasel your way out of it. You felt bad, making him wait while you tried on every dress the saleslady threw at you. He kept telling you it was fine, eventually threatening to come in there and dress you himself if you didn’t cut it out and that he was comfortable lounging on the sofas outside the fitting rooms. 

Slipping on the next dress from the large selection you had gathered in your fitting room, you checked yourself out in the mirror. Flatting the skirt with your palms, you tried to imagine yourself at the party, your arm looped around Rydal’s elbow and everyone’s eyes on you. Would this help you blend in? Was this the golden ticket you needed to finally gain acceptance? You’re starting to feel like it didn’t matter what you wore, they’d be able to sniff you out regardless, the vultures with their sharp manicures and syringe sculpted faces. 

When you finally stepped out in the simple but flattering black dress, Rydal’s eyes flashed as you turned this way and that in the mirror, trying to see it from all angles. This could work, it was simple enough that you didn’t feel entirely unlike yourself but it was still a lot more extravagant than anything you owned.  

You didn’t notice him slowly getting up like a predator stalking its prey, too focused on whether you liked the garment or not until his hands came to rest on your hips and his nose pressed itself against your neck. Only then did you take note of his half hard bulge pressing into your bum, your body temperature jumping at how quickly he was reacting to you all dressed up for him. You weren’t a lingerie girl, never had to be in your experiences but the way he was growing more and more feral by the second had you itching to buy the most delicate, laciest sets just to pull this behaviour from him on demand. 

“D-Do you like it?” you hated the way your voice wavered when you spoke, the slight increase in pressure from his hot hands causing you to blush heavily. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Go take it off before I do it for you–”

“Yeah, on it,” you pushed his hands away, bolting towards the fitting room before he got any ideas and shaking your head at him. 

He purchased the dress while you were changing back into your regular clothes, coming out to the sight of him holding the garment bag over his arm while dumbly ignoring the stares of the other girls in the store. 

You weren’t used to feeling so aggressively desired so publicly but Rydal never made you feel like he wanted to hide how he felt about you. He would compliment you in front of his friends, in front of strangers, he would speak highly of you despite having told you something that would send your blood boiling seconds prior. It was reassuring, especially since you weren’t blind to the way girls would look at him, especially the ones in his social circles. 

The dress would help you fit into the crowd a little better, the shoes only slightly uncomfortable so far but that wasn’t the part that bothered you. Before leaving for the night, you made sure to try your best with your hair and makeup to look effortless with the help of your roommate, Eleanor, who told you that Rydal was going to go crazy over your look. That didn’t make you feel any more comfortable, however, wearing clothes much too expensive, you began to wonder if he liked you better like this, if he wanted you to be more like them. 

His reaction upon seeing you made your stomach swoop, the reverence in his eyes making you shyer than you’ve felt in a long time. You think maybe you should dress up like this more often, maybe he’d prefer you like this. Trying to shake those thoughts out of your head, the two of you make your way to the party being held on campus, looping your arm through his. Rydal was wearing a beige linen suit himself, the white dress shirt underneath had the first couple buttons open for a more relaxed look that you knew he only did to stick it to his dad.

You don’t know if you would have preferred to be invisible rather than be gawked at by the guests, but either way you were extremely uncomfortable and trying your best to mask it for the sake of your boyfriend. The party itself was unlike any other you’d attended, and why would you have? It wasn’t something you’d normally be invited to, especially with your financial struggles. It was kind of ironic, you being here now. At least you were dressed for the part.

Most of the guests were in casually lavish clothing themselves, almost everyone in the room exuded an air of superiority and arrogance you didn’t know how to handle. Walking by a group of older men dressed in various shades of browns and beiges, you overheard their heated discussion regarding the new instalment of fine art in the library’s entryway. There was a table full of what looked like raffle prizes to be won, along with a small brass raffle drum at the end. Near the end of the room stood a podium next to a sign with the charity of the night outlined in large, black lettering. For the good press, for the photos, you bitterly think. There was even a small group of classical instrument musicians playing classical renditions of modern day music. 

In every cluster of guests, there was an undeniable condescending overtone, the haughtiness oozing from every direction and you didn’t know where a safe space was for your eyes to land so as not to be assaulted by a judgemental gaze. Rydal was walking with ease, his hand at the small of your back, the warmth from it burning your skin due to the backless nature of the dress but you were thankful for the touch as it kept you somewhat grounded, helping you not trip over your heels. 

He walked you through the psychological battleground, gliding through the people who were most definitely whispering about his date for the evening, leading you to the food and drinks table. Exotic delicacies littered the banquet table, carefully prepared for consumption and small enough to grab several handfuls before feeling any sense of satiation. The rich were an interesting breed, despite their indulgence they loved making things tiny. 

The purpose of the night was drowning in the show of snobbery, and you were so bitter inside at the show they put on for each other that you opted to stay quiet so as not to make Rydal uncomfortable. These were his peers, the people he grew up with, the old man in the corner, his godfather, the lady with the laughable plastic surgery was his favourite ‘aunt’ growing up, giving him the biggest presents at his birthdays. Countless familiar faces for him, all of them sneering at you. 

The comforting touch of his hand leaves your back and you immediately turn to him in a near panic, the idea of being left alone in the sea of sharks making you stumble over your shoes. Upon seeing Rydal’s father right behind you, you opted to stay silent. This was not the first time you were meeting him, but it was the first time you were seeing him on school grounds after spending the summer at their family home. 

“Rydal,” he nodded to you and greeted you by name, “Come, I need you to meet a couple of people from that firm I was telling you about. Quickly now.” 

Lawrence Keener wasn’t the most terrifying person you’d ever met but he was definitely intimidating and he definitely was aware of it. The man had influence at the school, and honestly anywhere else he went. His handsome face and strong jaw demanded respect before his clothes did, his bespoke and cleanly pressed suit giving him a reason to tilt his chin just that smidge higher so he could look down at you with a single snobby brow raised. You could see where Rydal learned that expression from. 

He was somewhat dismissive of your presence, which only served to piss you off further but you had to hold back from rolling your eyes since Rydal was looking at you with a plea in his eyes, asking if it was okay to leave you for a few minutes to go meet the senior partners his father was pushing him towards. 

You nodded with a tight smile to him, trying to be supportive without showing how anxious you already were on the inside. Stepping into his world and pretending you were fine with it was proving to be more difficult than you initially thought.

Rydal leaves you with a relatively chaste kiss on the cheek, his father watching you two with blatant boredom before ushering him away with a hand on the back of his neck. After watching them turn a corner, you have to blink a few times before gathering your bearings and heading straight for the hors d'oeuvres, the miniature yet intricate selection taking your attention away from the prickly company. Devilled eggs, stuffed mushrooms with crispy onions on top, micro fig pies, melted brie and shortbread, roasted oysters with butter mignonette, caviar and creme tartlets and bowls and bowls of shrimp cocktail met your eyes. Reaching to try a pie, it almost made you laugh at how tiny it was in the palm of your hand. 

Some time must have passed and you’d eaten several different kinds of mini appetisers, gulping down the mocktail a random floating waiter had offered you after watching you stuff your face while you observed others mingling and networking. Hearing Rydal’s voice over the soft music playing, your eyes start searching for him excitedly. 

There’s a girl. Walking next to him, there is a very pretty girl. And they’re laughing. She’s touching his arm – familiar, they’re familiar – and he doesn’t brush it off, he’s smiling with her and for a moment you forget that you’re together. 

They look… they look quite perfect together, to be honest. She’s taller than you, blonde hair perfectly coiffed with a classic cocktail dress in a shade of blue that matched her eyes, making her smile look all the more bright. The girl in question throws her head back in laughter at something Rydal says, and it must have been funny at the way she covers her mouth elegantly to hide her grin and–and you want to leave. Badly. He’s not flirting but he’s also not taking her hand off of his arm, and he’s still smiling at her. 

They…fit. She looks like she belongs. Here, with him, on his arm, wherever she pleases really. Maybe she’s the girl his father wanted him to go for, the choice that made sense for him. The option that was easier. The kind of girl who crossed her ankles when she sat at the dinner table, the one who knew which one the soup spoon was. The girl with the right parents, the right upbringing. The one who didn’t need a room at their family home because she had her own next door. The one he didn’t have to take shopping to make her look the part at a charity gala. 

The girl that wasn’t a charity case. 

You should just leave now, and leave them to it. They would probably be engaged right after graduation. Rydal would get a job with the law firm his father was pressuring him about and she would be the host of their next charity event. Hell, maybe she’d even run for a council position. Talk about a power couple. 

While your intrusive thoughts were spiralling, you get caught staring by Rydal, his eyes lighting up to see you and you can see the words forming on his lips as he’s about to call out for you, most likely to introduce you to the girl in question. Turning on your heel before he had the chance to get your name out, you walk with speed and purpose, hunting for the washroom to collect yourself. You know people are looking at you walking past them, you probably look a little out of it but you couldn’t care less right now, just focused on getting some air and maybe splashing some water on your face.

Ducking into the washroom with a sigh of relief – the door matched the wood tone of the walls, the little sign above labelled “Washroom” in tiny, cursive writing making it incredibly difficult to find – you manage to find an empty stall. Leaning your head back against the stall door, you close your eyes as you try to even your breathing. You have to manage the anxiety bubbling up in your chest and the influx of negative thoughts about Rydal, it’s not fair to you or him.

The washroom door swings open and shuts, a pocket of music from the main hall echoing for a few seconds before giving way to the animated chatter of the girls who just entered. Their giggles and whispers became more clear once they settled in front of the large mirror hanging above the marble sinks. 

“I’m going to need a lot more champagne to withstand anymore of that woman’s inane chatter, like, we’re already helping so much,” one girl huffed. 

Peeking your eyes through the tiny gap in the door, you catch a glimpse of the back of their heads. 

“Yeah well at least your boyfriend hasn’t been ignoring you all night. All I said was that he was repeating his outfit and that people would notice!” 

“Oh honey, don’t worry. Nobody is going to notice that with Rydal walking around with his charity case girlfriend. What the fuck does he see in her anyway?” Another girl said, carelessly loud. 

Your ears perked up again, your heart dropping in your stomach. Now was not the best time for you to hear this, their conversation only confirming your shameful thoughts about your boyfriend. 

“I always thought he was easy but to stoop so low? She’s basically the farmer’s daughter!” 

The scandal in her voice almost made you laugh in disbelief from where you were hiding in the stall. 

“I think he’s doing it just to get back at his father. Lawrence doesn’t even look at her.” 

Well. That’s not… that’s not what you wanted to hear. Lawrence looked at you, right? He said hello perfectly politely, right? You’re frowning at the thought.

“Ha! That’s because he wanted Colette for him. My mom told me he’s secretly hoping Rydal wakes up one morning, ready to go running back to Barbie Blue Eyes and make them all proud parents,” the loud one from earlier said with a wicked tone. 

Colette… you didn’t know a Colette. Blue eyes? Could they be speaking about The Girl from earlier? Were they right, were you just a phase for him? 

“Oh my god El, you kill me! They are really blue, and that dress she’s wearing tonight looks so fucking good on her, I can’t deny her that. It’s like she got it custom made to match her eyes.” 

Oh fuck. The Girl was Colette. Of fucking course. 

And from the sounds of it, she was Rydal’s ex. No wonder he never mentioned her. No wonder she was so friendly with him, hands all over his arms, giggling together like a couple of young lovers. Compared to her, she was the obvious choice, and it wasn’t a surprise that Lawrence had given his approval. 

“Sounds like Colette,” the third girl chimed in. 

“I don’t care how much Rydal spends on this new girl, she isn’t fooling anybody. I bet she’ll be gone by the winter. Anyways,” the first girl sighs tiredly, as if unloading all that gossip took a physical toll on her. “How’s my lipstick, Vee?” 

They descended into a different topic, focused on adjusting each other’s appearance until they left the washroom leaving you to stew in silence. They wouldn’t have known you were listening but they said everything you didn’t need to hear anyway. 

So Rydal was dating this perfect girl, Colette, before you got together. You were the rebound. You were never permanent. You didn’t belong. 

You should’ve known he wasn’t serious, it was too good to be true. You should never have opened up to him, never have trusted him with all your insecurities and vulnerabilities. He probably bought all the girls Chanel. He couldn’t have been serious about you. He hasn’t even met your mom, hasn’t visited your home yet. You couldn’t let him get any closer. 

Stepping out and gently splashing your cheeks with some cold water, you walk out the doors on shaky knees and look around. Nobody is paying you any attention now and you exhale a breath of relief. These people are never going to respect you. No matter how many pretty clothes he buys you. 

Rydal finds you before your eyes find him, his hand snaking around your waist and mouth finding your ear to whisper a sweet little I missed you, softly kissing your skin. You shiver, and despite the direction your thoughts were going you find comfort in his smell and warmth, closing your eyes while you turn your body into his. 

He’s the same and yet he isn’t. Rydal slips into his social persona and you’ve never really paid attention before but there’s a slight difference to his voice and once you notice it, it bothers you. You stare at him, perplexed and hurt. You wonder if you know him properly at all. Which one is the real one? Is he pretending with you or with them? 

Rydal tells you he has someone to introduce you to but your stomach starts churning and you think you’re gonna be sick because you see Colette making her way towards you in the crowd and you can’t face her, not after what you just heard. 

“I feel kind of sick, actually, can we go? Like, now?” 

You know you have a frantic edge to your voice but you can’t help it. 

“Can we go in a bit? Just stick it out for a little longer, baby—“ 

There’s a bubble of anxiety in your chest that rises to your throat the closer she gets and you look to Rydal with pure panic, upset that he’d even suggest you stay in this stifling room for any longer. He stops talking upon noticing the tears welling in your eyes, brows immediately furrowing in concern and then nodding quickly.

“Okay, yeah. Yeah, we can go, c’mon.” 

His hand returns to the small of your back, guiding you out of the hall and you’re glad for it because all of a sudden your vision is blurry and if it weren’t for his persistent hands helping you, you would’ve surely never found your way out. 

The way back to his room was tense. Not the comfortable silence you were used to, your throat closed and sealed shut since leaving. Your mouth has opened and shut several times, wanting to break the silence but your tongue felt like lead. 

Rydal doesn’t make any attempt at conversation either. After putting his blazer jacket around your shoulders, he stuck his hands in his pocket and frowned the whole walk back. 

By the time he let you in his room, your bottom lip was wobbling and your anxiety was suffocating you in its attempt for release. Either you were going to cry or yell or both. 

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you reach for the makeup wipes you keep with his things, aggressively wiping at your eyes and fighting with the layers of mascara you had put on. He slowly comes up behind you, not looking into your eyes but his hands reach to unclasp your necklace, brushing your hair aside for ease of access. 

You inhale a shuddering breath. 

You should just do it now. Just come right out and say it. You may as well cut your losses and let him be happy with whoever he wants, let him make his father happy and stop standing in his way. You were only holding him back, and that’s not what you wanted to do. You still loved him, even if tonight did break your heart. 

Dropping the necklace on the counter, he reaches for the zipper of your dress next but his hands still and instead rest on your waist as he presses his forehead into your shoulder. 

“Did something happen? Did someone… say something?” He mumbled, the vibrations of his voice almost triggering your tears. Instead you let out a sniffle.

“She really is beautiful. Why didn’t you tell me about her?” 

“Who?” 

“Why did I have to find out about her from a bunch of girls in the washroom? Does she go here? Is that why your dad doesn’t look me in the eye when he talks to me?”

“…it’s not like that—“ he sighs.

“No? It’s not like you become someone else when we’re around these people? It’s not like you have this whole goddamn life that I’m not part of, that I’ll never be part of because they’re never going to accept me? They’re never going to respect me, never think I’m good enough?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t even know what you heard!”

“Everyone thinks I’m with you just for your money, you know. They called me the farmer's daughter. They said I’m your fucking charity case. Do you know how that makes me feel? As if I don’t already feel like an outsider here?”

He opens his mouth to respond but you don't let him, rushing to hurt him the way you’re hurting inside. 

“You’ve never had to work a day in your life, you don’t know what it’s like in my shoes.” You laugh humorlessly. “What are we doing, Rydal?” 

“What do you mean?” His voice sounds so small and the knife just twists deeper in your gut. 

“Why should I have to deal with this constant bullshit from the people in your life? I don’t even know them! Maybe… maybe we should—“

“Stop, stop, listen I can handle everyone else being upset with me, but not you. Not you, please. I can’t take it from you, please don’t say what I think you’re going—“ 

“I don’t know. I just can’t, I— maybe, maybe we should break up, I think you’d feel better, too, I think—“

“How could you think that? How could you say that?” He’s upset, expression sour and twisted.

He looks the way you feel. 

You watch him fumble for words. 

“I literally left my dad at this stupid party and he’s going to be fucking pissed, like seriously livid because he was building me up to his buddies but– but I don’t care because I wanted to make sure you were okay!”

His palms grip your waist tighter and he steps closer, crowding you against the basin and doesn’t give you any room to move. You can’t look at him so instead you stare at the makeup wipe, the angry black marks mirroring your heart as your mind yells at you to run, to leave and hide where he can’t hurt you, where he can’t see you crumble and break after he inevitably agrees to leave you. 

You push it once more.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe I should’ve just left you there.” 

There’s a small part of your brain that tells you that you’re being irrational. That he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care, he must care even a tiny amount, even if you were a temporary toy. 

His hands leave you for a second and he takes a step away. You feel cold, immediately feeling small and stupid, fighting between wanting to cry and going numb until suddenly the familiar warmth comes back, his hand pushing your back with so much force that your hands shoot out in front of you to catch yourself. One on the mirror, one on around the edge of the vanity. 

Looking up at Rydal in shock, you open your mouth to ask him what the fuck his problem is until you see he’s not even looking at you, his eyes are trained on your ass and he’s biting his lip, but he still looks… broken. 

“Rydal, what the fu—“

“Stop. Talking. You’ve said enough.” His voice was almost a whisper but still firm enough to cut through yours, and his hands were still kneading your hips. 

His behaviour is new and kind of confusing, if you’re being honest. It’s clear he’s never been denied before in his life. He looks helpless and angry and worried and aggravated and entirely too focused on your body at this moment for any of it to make sense. 

Rydal’s fingers trail down your dress until they reach the slit in the back and leave goosebumps as they make their way back up, hooking into your panties and then tugging them off and around your heels. Upon rising, he’s still avoiding eye contact. Your cheeks are burning, legs slightly wider than before. Despite being mad at him, your body still obeys. 

“So mouthy all the time.”

Balling up your panties, he surprises you further by shoving them in your mouth even as you protest and try to push back on him but his body keeps your balance wavering. You have no choice but to keep your hands where they were if you didn’t want to fall. 

Your eyes must be bugging out of your sockets and the rise and fall of your chest is coming quicker and quicker.

“If that’s what you really want, then leave.” He’s saying this while the tips of his thick fingers brush and tease your entrance, keeping you frozen in place.

Your mind was at odds with your body as you felt your instinctive reaction to him touching you. Fighting the urge to embrace the desire now dripping down your thighs, you knew you had the ability to walk away if you wanted to and yet you found yourself pressing back against his hand wanting more. 

“Aren’t you gonna leave? Isn’t that what you wanted? No?” 

Rydal slides two fingers inside your cunt, easily and without warning and you grunt but it’s muffled against the cloth. This is absurd, you think dumbly. You want to feel embarrassed but you can’t bring yourself to.

“Didn’t think so, baby,” he’s saying while stepping closer and his fingers reach even deeper, if that were possible.

His mouth comes up to your ear, whispering his next words and sending them straight to your gut, weighing heavily inside you. 

“I need you, can’t you see that? Look at me,” his hot breath hits the shell of your ear and you’re panting. “Can’t you tell? How fucking badly I need you?” 

So you look at him, and you see a desperate and needy man in the place of your Rydal, the one you’re familiar with. This wasn’t the same man you were used to, the one who would make you laugh while he was making his way inside you. This Rydal was upset and he was adamant on making you regret your words. 

His fingers were curling inside your wet heat, pressing up against that spot that made you see stars and stealing your breath so hard your fingers were curling. Your fingerprints were marking the mirror, the squeaking sound making you shudder against his body. Moaning around the fabric still in your mouth, you tried to grind down on his hand, desperate for him to move, to do something, anything to the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter. 

Rydal could feel your hips moving back against his hand and moved to still you, fingers holding you tight enough to bruise. Slipping his fingers out, he taps them against your clit before removing his hand entirely and making your shoulders sag at the loss.

Reaching one hand up and back to keep him close, afraid of his warmth leaving you, your hand wraps around his neck as he rushes to unbuckle his pants noisily. He’s shaking a little, breaths coming out ragged at how badly he needs to fill you up. 

Once he frees himself, Rydal uses one hand to push you back down and bunch your pretty dress up, lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in swiftly without hesitation. 

He groans loudly, tilting his head back with his eyes shut for a moment before looking down at where he’s seated to the hilt inside you, unmoving. 

“You lookin’? You need me, too, I can see it in your eyes. Look,” he reaches forward to grab at your jaw, making you watch yourself as he slowly pulls his cock out and slams it back inside to kiss your cervix. Again, and again, and again. “See that?”

Rydal forces your head to nod with his hand still holding your face while you try to speak, voice coming out unclear against the panties still in your mouth. The stupid fucking fabric was making it hard to breathe and you were going to pass out, drunk on his cock, you were going to faint against the god damn builder’s grade medicine cabinet. You want to moan out loud, you want to tell him he wasn’t playing fair, that he was going too slow. You want to pull his beautiful hair out and yell at him, you want him to hurry up and fuck you harder, you—

You’re coming. 

“Ohhh, fuuuuck,” he let go of your face, hands dropping to press on your lower back and push you more forward, your hands clambering on the mirror like a fool. “Look so—so, oh fuck, baby, look at you.”

It didn’t take him long at all to make a mess of you. 

“You gonna take it back? Take back what you said, tell me you were wrong,” he whines, still fucking you hard but not hard enough. 

The problem was that he was dragging his girth out slowly but stealing your breath on every hard thrust forward. And it still wasn’t enough, not for this, not for right now. 

Your attempt at speaking is ruined by the fact that your panties were still in your mouth, your saliva soaking the material by this point. You wanted to spit it out, hurl the obstructive garment across the room but it wasn’t possible in your current position. He can’t possibly be stupid enough to expect you to answer him like this. 

He almost laughs when he realises you’re trying to say something, quickly pulling the fabric from your mouth to let you finally have your voice back and you immediately let out a cry at his perfectly timed thrust. His cock was moving faster, intent on not having you speak but making you come again. Now that he could hear you, he was becoming more and more unhinged. 

Embarrassingly, you’re having a hard time keeping your voice down, whines and cries falling from your lips continuously while Rydal fucked you against his sink. Your hands are leaving fingerprints all over his mirror from where you’re trying to get a grip and push yourself back on him, his own hands keeping you bent over for him but squeezing whatever flesh he could reach. 

Leaning forward to kiss your back, he mumbles words he thinks you don’t hear, don’t leave me, mine, my baby, stay here—

“S’wrong, I-I was wrong,” you whimper. “M’sorry, fuck—“

“Shhh—“

“I—“ you hiccup. “I hate them, I, yesss right there, god—“

“I know, baby, I know, I got you,” he’s back to grunting in your ear and you can’t see or feel anything that isn’t Rydal. 

You’re overwhelmed by everything that’s happened tonight, your feelings from earlier still bubbling up and causing you to tear up while he continues to ram into you. He sees you crying, reaching his hand in front of you to toy with your clit.

“Stay with me,” he demands, voice low against the shell of your ear. Desperate, he’s still so fucking needy even after making you cry on his cock. 

You nod before you realise you’re nodding, sniffling in your daze. 

Rydal’s index finger, the same one he teased you with earlier, starts circling your clit in the surefire way he knows how to make you cum, grunting when he feels your walls fluttering over his length. 

And when you’re gushing all over him, his finger still circles your nub but he stills his hips as he feels you come undone and talks you through it. Pretty baby, love you so fucking much, stay, stay with me, stay—

Lifting you off his length he takes off your dress completely and turns you around with his hand wrapped around your neck to bring his mouth to yours, kissing you like a man possessed. He doesn’t wait to slip his tongue into your mouth, claiming it as his own to prove a point. He’s always fucking proving a point, always pushing his way through your walls. 

Walking you backwards towards his bed, he only breaks away from your mouth to help you remove his shirt and pants, your hands mapping out his chest and shoulders. You don’t let him get far from you even as you lower yourself to lay back on the mattress, pulling his body along needily while he crawls over you. 

This time when he enters you, it’s slower, softer, gentle, but you’re shaking in his arms, foreheads touching as you share a breath and syrupy kisses. You cry a little, mascara messy and lipstick smudged, but he shushes you, mocking you, “thought you could leave me,” he says and anticipating your rebuttal — as he does, he always fucking does — he says, “thought you could go on without my cock, hmm?”

And then he’s kissing you again before you can say anything, effectively shutting you up while pressing you into the mattress, fucking the fight out of you as his hips slide into yours again and again. Your bodies are sweat ridden, your pussy is soaking his sheets and he still hasn’t cum yet, but you think he’s close. He has to be, he’s barely pulling out now, his length throbbing inside your pulsing walls as he ruts into you. 

He’s biting your shoulder and your eyes are focused on the popcorn ceiling, your oversensitive core trembling as he tries to pull another orgasm from you. You’re probably crying, it’s hard to tell at this point, face and body damp, but your ears are attuned to his sounds, his gorgeous whimpers and grunts. Rydal’s body is heavy on yours but you’re floating, you don’t feel a thing until his thumb starts pressing hard against your clit that you try to curl in on yourself, thrashing against him and– yeah, you’re crying. 

He’s speaking absolute filth, it doesn’t make any sense, but in the midst of your pleasure you hear him saying he’s going to fill you up. 

He does. It’s so wet between your legs, the glide of his half aborted thrusts smacking lewdly and loudly and you feel like an exposed nerve and numb all at once. His spend is leaking out of you and just when you expect him to pull out and play with your puffy folds, he turns on his side, keeping you full of him. Rydal rests his face against your chest, your sweaty and spent bodies tangled together. Boneless and breathless. 

His arms are everywhere, one running down the length of your thigh soothingly and the other wrapped under your torso to pull you close by your waist. Touching, always touching. That’s been one constant you’ve noticed from the start. Your breaths are echoing loudly and you’re almost afraid to speak, afraid to ruin the tranquil silence that envelops you both. 

You open your eyes to find him already watching you. 

“I’m hopeless without you,” he says, so so softly. “I’ll let you win at monopoly every time, I’ll stop ruining the ending of the books you’re reading, fuck, just tell me what I have to do. Tell me, I’ll do it.”

You just hold him tighter to you, kissing his temple.

[kon-igi]

Salve doc, ho un dubbio, non è che non mi fidi, però è un medico nuovo... sono andata dal medico di medicina generale e dopo avermi visitato mi ha detto che ho la bronchite (e tutti gli altri sintomi annessi) e mi ha dato augmentin, brufen e fluimucil in compresse effervescenti.

Al mio ragazzo, da un altro medico di base, sempre per la bronchite, gli è stato dato l'antibiotico e il cortisone.

Cosa cambia?

Ma antibiotico e antinfiammatorio si possono prendere insieme?

Bronchite significa, letteralmente, 'infiammazione dei bronchi'.

I bronchi sono i rami di quegli alberi a testa in giù che si trovano tra la trachea (il tronco dell'albero) e i bronchioli (i rametti più piccoli)...

Ok... più della metafora forse è meglio un disegno:

A grandi linee sono quelli (ho evitato ulteriori suddivisioni anatomiche).

Quando un patogeno riesce a colonizzare le vie respiratorie inferiori, allora si ha una bronchite BATTERICA o VIRALE (esistono altri tipi di bronchite ma non divaghiamo) e allora il medico può intervenire in molteplici modi, sulla base della serietà della bronchite - credimi, esistono anche bronchiti molto serie con asma, dispnea e ridotta ossigenazione - grazie all'auscultazione.

Se reputa che possa essere batterica, allora darà un'antibiotico adatto alle infezioni delle vie respiratorie basse (se è virale inutile dare l'antibiotico) e se nell'auscultazione ha rilevato sibili, fischi, rantoli, ronchi, soffi o gorgoglii allora deciderà se aggiungere un corticosteroide che avrà un doppio effetto benefico

Antinfiammatorio per eccellenza

Broncodilatatore

Se invece il medico non avrà sentito particolari rumori bronco-polmonari, allora si potrebbe limitare a un antinfiammatorio NON STEROIDEO (l'ibuprofene del Brufen ha decisamente molti meno effetti collaterali, chessò, del prednisone o del betametasone, classici corticosteroidi per le vie respiratorie) e magari aggiungerà pure dell'acetilcisteina (Fluimucil) che serve a rompere i legami proteici del muco bronchiale e renderlo più facilmente espettorabile.

Ogni medico valuta in scienza, coscienza e diligenza la migliore terapia, ricordando che di ogni patologia generica esistono varie forme e manifestazioni, a volte di facile risoluzione, a volte più impegnative.

P.S.

Antibiotico e antinfiammatorio si possono prendere assieme perché agiscono in modo differente a livello organico e, in genere, non interagiscono in modo negativo tra di loro.

Concludo con una foto off topic di Otto da cucciolo che aveva appena finito di demolire ogni cosa che avesse una consistenza meno robusta dell'acciaio.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

06/27/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Taika Waititi/Jemaine Clement, Vico Ortiz, Samba Schutte, Jes Tom, Kristian Nairn, Adopt Our Crew Charity Raffle: LAST DAY to enter; Mini Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika.

Hey All, I am a bit behind, and this is very short but I wanted to get the reminder out for AOC's charity raffle. So I'll try to finish up the other half tonight.

== Taika Waititi ==

Taika and Jemaine's series Time Bandits is coming out soon (ignore the title of the article, they posted the wrong title). They talk a bit about outfits / Season 2 possibilities. They could really use our support for Time Bandits Season 1, July 24 on Apple TV if you're interested!

Source: Comicbook.com's Article

== Samba Schutte ==

So much Samba! His new movie, Advanced Chemistry premiered at The Chinese Theatre in Hollywood CA yesterday, and you'll notice some familiar faces came to the premier as well!

Source: Samba Schutte's IG

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico has released more OFMD BTS on their Patreon this week! Here's a sneak peek, if you'd like to see the Patreon Vids, you can sign up for their Patreon here!

Source: Vico's Patreon

== Jes Tom ==

Jes Tom is out here posting some pretty amazing photos to advertise their show Corporate Pride- happening on June 30th. Check out Corporate Pride Tickets for more info.

Source: Jes Tom's Instagram

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian will be at Rose City Comic Con this year! Sept 6-8th! in Portland Oregon! ✨ rosecitycomiccon.com/guest 🎟️ rosecitycomiccon.com/badges

Source: Rose City Comic Con's Instagram

== Adopt Our Crew: Charity Raffle! LAST DAY! ==

Today is the LAST DAY to enter @adoptourcrew's Charity Raffle! Get them in before 11:59 PM PST! You can enter here: AOC's Google Doc

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Instagram

== Voting ==

Okay so our cast has a few different situations where we can help with voting. If you feel so inclined, please vote for them or your favorite shows below!

Taika: Time Bandits

== Love Notes ==

Hey Lovelies, I'm making this short to make sure to remind folks so just a quick love note from TheLatestKate today. Sorry It's been a bit busy still this week. Hopefully will calm down next week. Sending love <3

Source: The Latest Kate's Tumblr

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Today's gif courtesy of one of my favorite peeps: @bizarrelittlemew

This BTS destroyed me. I WANT THE MERMAID KISS DARN IT.

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol. 24

Howdy folks!

I love how I said I was never waiting two weeks to do a digest again and then almost immediately did it again. Anyway if you're new here, this is every new (to me) fic I read this week (and last week) and some of my silly little thoughts about them. I have 19 fics for you this week!

As always you can find all of my previous recs here and the original spreadsheet here (now updated with warnings, author summaries, and word counts + I'm checking for broken links).

Recs below the pedro!

Multiples/MMF/MMMF

Euclidean Geometry - Frankie/Jack/Pero one shot by @leslie-lyman

I’d never have thought to put these three together and even if i had, it would have been straight up PWP no feelings. But this is STUNNING. It’s only 1.4k words but there’s such a depth to it. The different dynamics each of the boys and reader brings to the relationship, the way they care for each other AHHH and then the little flash scenes of smut 🥵🥵

The Impaler - Tim Rockford/Max Phillips one shot by @kiwisbell

This is my first Tim Rockford fic EVER and I adored it. I’m a big fan of making Max into a more serious and scary vampire and this was… so fucking hot y’all. (kinda dubcon for Tim bc he seems to be under a bit of a trance). Guys this has like every MMF position you could ever want. DVP… Spitroast… It’s so hot. And reader is so hot. And I’m melting fr.

Joel

Attraction Spell - joel one shot by @jksprincess10

I love a vampire Joel, I really really do. And I love a witchy reader just as much if not more. TW for NonCon bc Joel like… stalks reader and then gets her to basically drug herself with an attraction spell and then he also like.. Is a vampire? So there’s that. I loved this so so much. Joel is hot and scary.

Made by Hand - Joel one shot by @tinycozycomfort

Reader is married and Joel is your lover. He doesn’t really have anything to offer you at all – I mean he can’t give you something that would get you caught and he doesn’t seem to have much to give anyway. But he hand sews you a pair of cuffs made from blue ribbon AHHHHH. This fic is heartbreaking and so beautifully written. Of course the smut is hot, but the peek into Joel’s mind is really what does it for me here. He is so sad. UGHGHGHGHGH. Gimme 800 chapters of this STAT.

Garden of Earthly Delights - Joel one shot by @thesimulationswarm

What’s Gin a slut for? That’s right. Sub!Joel. Reader is a little badass in this and Joel is honestly pathetic and it’s so hot. His general air of violence and like… being a terrifying man are still present, which just makes it better that reader reduces him to a pathetic whimpering mess. Submissive Apple Washing is my favorite tag ever, also. 

Balsam - Joel series by @thesimulationswarm

This one is great if you love characters. The author really takes the time to build up the characters in the town, really situating you in the lives of the people of Jackson. There’s no smut as of yet; this is a slow burn and Nina/Doc (the OC) is really just starting to connect with Joel at this point. I cannot say enough how much I love the worldbuilding in this. I adore the characters and their intricate and detailed relationships and the inner conflicts going on with each of them. This is gorgeous and I’m so excited for the next chapter.

@theywhowriteandknowthings Murder Daddy Kinktober

Neighbor's Gardener's Brother Joel, MDKT Sex Pollen - Joel, MDKT Day 17 - Din

Ok the neighbor’s gardener’s brother Joel is hotter than it has any right to be. He’s filthy, reader is filthy. It’s beautiful. 

The sex pollen fic… man I fucking love sex pollen. And you also get tentacles and mind fuck and all the other delicious monsterfucking things that drive me up a damn wall (dub con obvi…). 

And Day 17 - a bounty who keeps running from Din because she loves to be caught by him. She’s thrilled by the chase so much she…. Oops spoilers… Just read it. It’s being turned into a full series and I cannot wait to read it! 

Din

Good Taste - Din series by @charnelhouse

Pornstar!Din – the crack fic this came from is also great, but I really enjoyed this. Din is so fucking hot and like kind of a dick, which I love very much. I only read the crackfic and the main fic, but there’s a whole list of drabbles that I’m sure I’ll dig into later. 

Ezra

Long Fall into Oblivion - Ezra one shot by @oonajaeadira

As usual, Adira wrote something I love with my whole heart – who’s surprised? Not me. Anyway Ezra is training you to be a prospector and he is absolutely lovely. Reassuring, kind, protective. Adira does non-explicit smut so well she basically invented the concept. 

Shorn - Ezra one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Ezra really likes your body hair, but it is time for you to shave – I love a fucking weird ass fic and I’m gonna go out on a limb and say erotic shaving is weird. I also don’t normally love shaving scenes in fics/books because there can be an element of shaming the natural body? But this fic does the opposite. It celebrates the natural body through the lens of Ezra and is also just unreasonably fucking hot. I love that weird little man with all my heart. 

Dream Within a Dream - Ezra one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Incubus!Ezra – so yes, you die, because that’s what incubuses (incubi?) do. They rock your dream world and then they consume you. But listen… Ezra is ethereal and gorgeous, the dream world is absolutely stunning, the smut is hot, and honestly I’d beg him to eat my heart out too. I can’t say enough about this fic actually. I read it this morning and I’m still reeling. 

Javier Peña

you miss me? - Javi P one shot by @amanitacowboy

You tease Javi while he’s at work and he punishes you for it when he gets home… and it is so deliciously good. Dom!Javi has me in a chokehold (or I wish he did). 

The Raid - Javi P one shot by @toxicanonymity

Some dark!Javi from toxic! Your boyfriend or whatever gets his house raided by the DEA and Javi saves you from getting uhhh used… by his coworkers. But then he takes you for himself. Based loosely on her Raider!Joel series. Obviously non/dub con. Javi is so mean and hot pls. 

Pent Up - Javi P one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Javi hurt his ankle (which Ang did as a dig at me because I did the same) and can’t drive, so he hasn’t been able to get any… release… which leads to him jacking off at his desk after hours. It’s so hot. I was like laughing at him up til he actually touches himself and then I about fell over. What I wouldn’t give to be his lil stress reliever. Javi baby I would live under your desk if you asked me to. 

Frankie

You hired a cleaning lady, Mr. Morales? - Frankie one shot by @beskarandblasters

After the events of TF Frankie is in a bit of a depression (understandable), and his house gets more than a little messy. Santi hires a cleaning service (you) to help him out. Listen… I wish I was as bold as reader. After the sexual tension between you and Frankie gets too much to bear, you show up in a god damn sexy maid outfit to torture him into convince him to finally make a move on you. It’s so hot… reader is a sexy bad ass bitch and Frankie is adorable and so hot. 

snowball kiss - Frankie one shot by @beskarandblasters

The discord found this definition on urban dictionary and Kel ran with it. It’s filthy in the best way. Pussy eating king Frankie learned a new trick and honestly it’s devastating me emotionally that I can’t have him

Dieter

Dress me up and call me pretty - Dieter one shot by @morallyinept

Messy Messy Messy Dieter – my favorite type of Dieter. His drug addiction and overall patheticness are in full force here. He wants to make himself look pretty so he uses your makeup. You come home and make sure he feels loved and beautiful, and also ruin his makeup. Pegging/sub dieter/etc but also… this fic is really fucking sweet. It kind of broke my heart despite also being filthy and depraved and I love that in a Dieter fic. I love how reader is like "we'll try again" like??? How dare you make me cry when I'm reading sub!dieter. Dammit. 

-----------

My most recent work is Starving Season - a twisted little Dave York love as consumption three parter that I plan to add a fourth part to soon.

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Happy Reading!

[booperbeanv3]

What advice would you give someone who wants to write a June Egbert fic as someone who’s cis? Like writing wise

I'm assuming you mean character writing. It depends on what you're doing with her and how relevant you want to make her transness. Are you doing a coming-of-age type deal or a romance type or something where the trans thing is just happenstance?

You're gonna have to write her like John either way, so here's a quotes doc.

Personally I like to write John/June as a skeptic, sometimes downright sardonic, but ultimately still optimistic about most things. I like to lay the ignorance on thick, since compared to the other beta kids, he hasn't had to deal with a lot of complex problems until Sburb. So, he tends to let them fly over his head until he has no choice but to acknowledge them.

June-wise, I think she'd approach it similarly. If you want to do the whole egg-cracking hubbub, she seems like a repressor in the general sense. Not really overcompensating in either direction (like a macho man or femboy) but just ignoring it since it makes her more uncomfortable than she knows what to do with.

The scene where John realises Con Air actually sucks is probably the best scene to look at when it comes to writing big revelations. He realises how he's lost his childhood innocence by complaining about some movie. June would probably realise the trans thing not through a direct "I'm trans" epiphany but rather through a series of unrelated discoveries that hold the same weight to her as "I'm trans" does.

Does that make sense? I personally can't comment on the MtF experience since I'm... not, but that's pretty basic. Just look up accounts from trans women about it.

[awingedinsect]

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 1

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: alcohol use, descriptions of drowning, swearing, sadness, eventual smut, non-con hurt, bondage, blood, let me know if I miss anything the warnings will be updated as we go.This is the first chapter of a series in progress :)

Note: this being the first post of a new blog, I do not expect a lot of traction. But to anyone who does read I hope you enjoy, and have an amazing day!!

The water is filling his lungs.

He scrunches his eyes to fight off the salt already burning deep up his nose, threatening to flood his whole body as he sinks, sinks…

He could swim up, but he doesn’t. He could be scared, but he isn’t. He’s resigned to die. To be buried in the cold, dark ocean, and become one of the many forgotten things that call it their tomb.

He’s sinking, deeper and deeper, feeling his body go stiff as the icy darkness wraps around his limbs.

The last blue light of the surface has abandoned him.

And he can’t be sad, can he? He knows that he chose this, after all. Even if he can’t remember it. Even if the tiniest inkling of regret is creeping up on him with each bit of light lost.

He goes limp, parting his lips to let the water in.

•••

“Hey, kid!”

His eyes flick open, a little gasp leaving his lips as a heavy fist raps on the bathroom door.

“Fucking finish up, you’re on in ten minutes.”

Fuck.

He doesn’t reply, just rubs his temple as the pain in his body registers. He peels his face off of the arm he’s resting on the paper dispenser.

Did he actually fall asleep?

The ache in his legs as he readjusts on the toilet lid tells him he’s been sitting here for way longer than he intended.

He stands up, cursing at the immediate stab of pain in his lower back.

“Kid, you in there?”

“Yeah… yeah!” He scrambles to the sink, prepared for the horror that must be his eyeliner after having his face smashed for the past 20 minutes or so.

It is… not good.

“Hurry up.”

“Okay.”

There’s a single yellow lightbulb dangling in the middle of the ceiling, illuminating what he hopes to god is a poor portrait of himself. His cheeks are hollow, his skin is pale. And not even the copious amounts of black eyeliner dredging his eyes- and now the side of his face -can hide the bags under them. The all-nighter he pulled in preparation for tonight shows, letting each and every one who will look at his illuminated face tonight know just how nervous he’s been for the past few days.

He just prays the other bands don’t get a jab in about it.

He rubs his cheek with the side of his hand, smearing the black off as best he can before swiping his bangs into his eyes to hide the whole mess.

He takes a deep breath.

He looks fine… really. Not like this is his first show. Not like he’s gonna fumble the hell out of it, even after weeks of practice behind closed doors. His fingers itch for the familiarity of the smooth keys on his sleek, black keyboard.

He knows them better than the feel of his own skin.

The second he opens the door he’s swallowed into the noise of the bar. The acoustics in here aren’t bad- he can hear every noise, every voice laughing with the rock music pouring out of old dusty speakers. He blinks hard to adjust to the light as he weaves his way through the crowd, eyeing the low-set stage against the far wall.

His stage.

He mounts it, hunching down besides the legs of the keyboard to look it over, adjusting a few knobs carefully.

“It’s tuned.”

It takes him a few seconds before he realizes that the voice is directed at him. He looks up, thumb swiping anxiously over the rim of the keys.

“Huh?”

“You shouldn’t touch that.” The man says, leaning against one of the concrete pillars to his left. He’s fiddling with the strings of his bass, And remarkably, he’s almost eye-level, even though his shiny doc martens are planted on the floor below. “It’s already tuned.”

He looks about the same age as him. 22, a few years older maybe. But the confidence he exudes is almost enough to convince someone that he’s only in this dive bar for kicks. A hardened veteran, disgusted at a spindly kid getting their eye-liner smudged fingers all over the keys.

“I know.” He says, barely giving the newcomer a glance. “But I’m about to play it. I want my songs to sound the way they always do.”

“Do they always sound like you’ve fucked up the keyboard?” Comes the reply. And oh boy, he’s on in five minutes. This joker needs to let him do his thing, otherwise he’s concerningly close to having a mental breakdown right here.

“No.”

“You oughta write music that works with a properly tuned instrument, Holmes.” The stranger swipes his long fingers through his bangs, dragging the stray beaded strands back to join the tight knot pulling the rest of it out of his angular face.

“S’what I do.”

“And you are?”

“III.”

Two minutes. A small smile creeps to the young musician's lips. “Yeah? Where’s I and II?”

“IV and II are at the bar, smart ass.” III says, stepping closer. His eyes bore down onto the hands now fiddling with the power cord leading into the wall. It’s dragged firmly across the stage to where it ought to be.

“-they’re not shitting their pants over a tiny dive bar gig.”

Now he’s pissed. And yet that anger is manifesting as what feels like tears in the corners of his eyes. If his eyeliner starts running even more, he’s gonna kill this man, and then himself. But before he can say anything the lights dim, and Highway to Hell fades out of the dated speakers.

His heart lurches against his ribs.

The tall stranger actually smiles, stepping back against his pillar. He folds his arms casually over the bass slung across his waist, settling down for the show.

The musician is half-certain he sees a wink from between the long strands of hair once again falling out of that obnoxious man-bun, but he ignores it. He doesn’t have a choice. Because in less than a second, there’s a pale blue spotlight illuminating his hunched shoulders and smudged, sleep-deprived face.

He hears his name announced half-heartedly by the same voice that pulled him out of his impromptu nap a few minutes ago, and a few faces in the spotty crowd turn to eye him expectantly.

Is this… what hell is like?

The mic positioned over the keys suddenly looks like the face of a monster, calling his name with every intention to bite. But he leans into it almost robotically, clearing his throat and hearing the sound bounce against the plaster walls.

“…Hello.” He says, a little too softly. He wonders if he ought to talk more, if they’re expecting him to introduce himself again or ask them if they’re having a good night. Somehow, this is the first time the dilemma has crossed his mind.

Then he settles with the simplest thing that comes to him.

“This song is called Atlantic.”

His shaky fingers start to move over the keys. He taps them lightly, hitting the first one too hard and compensating by barely brushing the next two. But nobody seems to notice, and he takes a deep breath, praying to any gods that can hear him that he gets this right. He knows this song. He wrote this song.

He feels the eyes of the bass player following his icy fingertips, willing them to fail as they glide across the row of white keys. And somehow, it serves to steady them, if out of spite. He steps closer to the instrument, bowing his head and jutting his knee forward as his lips graze the mic.

“Call me when they bury bodies under water…”

The room goes silent. The entire world does, and so does his mind. The notes drift softly from his mouth, falling into air full of listeners for the first time.

“It’s blue light over murder for me…”

His eyes drift close as the music consumes him.

His hands remember, now- they pull the notes out of the ivory delicately and powerfully, lapping at them like waves and stirring them with his voice in perfect cohesion.

This is who he is.

“Crumble like a temple built from future daughters, to wasteland when the oceans recede.”

Eyes are on him, freezing him and orbiting around him. But they can’t get behind his closed eyes, and they can’t tell him he’s playing his own song wrong. The worst they can do is hate it, and well… he tries not to think about that. Hopefully they've all had enough drinks to convince them this slightly awkward performance is a good one.

And hopefully he’ll be able to have enough drinks tonight that no matter what, he’ll have had a good time.

He’s nearing the end of the song, and he notices his hands going harder on the notes. “Don’t wake me up.” There’s a knot in his throat. “Don’t wake me up.”

And then there is silence.

He blinks his eyes open, fighting the shivers in his body as all sense tells him to look at the crowd. But all he can concentrate on is the black smudges on the white keys, and the blue light bathing it in a haze.

After a few seconds, his ears fill with a spattering of applause. One person “wooh!”s, and a few more nod approvingly once his eyes finally peel off his feet.

He feels a tiny smile crawl to his lips.

Then he looks at III.

The man is still leaning on his bass, watching him with dark but almost approving eyes. He doesn’t look ready to pounce on him anymore, though god knows, the great part of his confidence probably lies in how well he’s gonna mop the stage with that meager offering.

The singer looks away, trying his best not to scowl as he nods his thanks to the crowd and returns to playing, this time announcing a song he only wrote a week ago. There might be a little free-styling involved, but he thinks he’s up for it.

And thus his twenty-minute slot drags on. A slow beginning, sour glances from III, then shuffling his feet and nodding his head as he retreats to the darkness behind his eyes and lets his hands take over.

Near the end, he’s almost confident. He finds himself rocking back and forth slowly as the last notes of his final song die out, a few claps once again resounding in the tiny venue. “Thank you,” he whispers, blinking a tear out of his eye.

And then he steps off the stage.

He feels weightless, almost like he’s dreaming. The lights blur in his peripheral like jellyfish and he makes a b-line for the bar, feeling more euphoric and terrified than he’s ever felt in his life. His first show. His first show. And they didn’t boo him off the stage.

He plops down on a stool and rubs his eyes, ordering an old fashioned and hoping it will keep the elation going. Fuck, he’s tired.

Suddenly he’s being attacked. Or at least, slapped on the back so hard it zaps a few hours of energy back into his abused body.

He turns to the person beside him, blinking in confusion before he realizes that this is one of the men III had gestured to before the show. Either II or IV, he doesn’t know. The man is wearing a black t-shirt, two scythes making an ‘X’ dangling on a silver chain around his neck. his bright blue eyes are enthusiastic. “Nice show, man.” He says, taking a swig of his beer. “Loved that little bit in the middle, that depressing solo bit. You’ve got a fucking voice and an ear for those ivories, brilliant stuff.”

“Thank you.” The singer replies, hoping the compliment is genuine and not something a certain fellow bandmate put him up to. He reaches for the drink slid to him across the counter, taking a modest sip. He swirls the cherry in the bottom of the glass.

“Are you on next?” He asks, trying to make eye contact as he takes another sip. “Do you sing?”

“Fuck yeah, and fuck no.” The man giggles. “I’m on drums, see.” He points to the stage and the slightly sad, unassuming drum set in the corner. “Gonna tear it up. Hope you’ll stay.”

He’d like to stay. He loves music. But he’s afraid if he doesn’t get sleep soon, he’ll never make it home conscious. “Thanks, I’ll try.” He says, almost rubbing an eye before remembering the black puddles he’s turned them into. He sighs.

“…Tired.”

“Hey!” A new face says before the drummer can reply. It sounds like the voice of a woman, and is quickly followed by yet another unsolicited hand on his shoulder. He turns around wide-eyed.

“Nice show, kid.” Says a girl yet again no older than himself. Her head is shaved, clean black lips glistening in a smile.

“I’m Venus, the opening act. What’dya think?”

He, of course, had slept through it. But the pretty girl beaming at him can’t possibly know that.

“It was fantastic,” he says, trying his best at a smile. “V-very good.”

Something in her face tells him she might not be entirely convinced. But he’s relieved when she instantly changes the subject, manicured hand squeezing his shoulder playfully as she leans over him to eye the drummer.

“You with the next band?” She asks. Her silver snake bites flash in the neon light above the counter, stirring something in the singer's chest. He folds his hands over the sleeves of his loose sweatshirt, tipping his glass to his lips again and sighing.

The drummer takes a long swig of his own beer, nodding with a smile curling his lips. He pops off and says, “I’m II. And you’ll see me on the drums.” He directs both of their gazes towards the stage with the tip of his bottle, something twinkling in his eye as he says, “there’s III over there, and IV. Best Bass and guitar duo you’ve ever heard.”

Venus laughs, hunching casually against the singer's shoulder in a way that, if he had any more brain cells, would make him blush. He just eyes III over the rim of his glass, watching as he concentrates on tuning his own instrument. He’s talking to a guitarist in plaid pants and a black leather jacket, someone instantly nameable as IV.

“Yeah?“ the girl says. “Where’s I?”

II shrugs, big blue eyes still watching his band mates with a profound fondness; probably due to what was once the contents of the beer bottles stacking up around his elbows.

“Nowhere.” He says smugly. Then he’s swiveling around, hanging on the shoulder of his new extremely sleep-deprived friend and wiggling his fingers up at Venus. “Or maybe it’s you, huh?”

Both of them laugh, and there’s no clear reason as to why. But there’s now two attractive people hanging on either side of the singer, and he wonders how he came so easily to such an inconvenient honor. It’s all he can do to hunch his shoulders and finally take a long swig of his old fashioned, hoping he doesn’t look as terrible as he feels.

Then suddenly, IV appears, dragging II off of his stool without so much as a warning. “Five minutes, hon.” He says, swinging his guitar to the side to pull his bandmate into himself. “Let’s fucking go.”

“Nice talking to ya.” II says, smiling big and knocking his head against IV’s shoulder. “See ya after the show!”

The singer can’t help but smile, waving goodbye slowly before turning his attention to the cherry at the bottom of his glass.

“Come on.” The pretty girl says over the music, breath rustling the hair over his ear. “You look fucking beat baby, come on and hang in the back with the rest of my crew, huh?”

He slowly registers the words. “Oh-“ he looks around for a second, almost like his blurry surroundings might offer an excuse. “Like, in the back of the bar?”

“In the back room, man.” She says, and as she steps back she lands a playful smack on his shoulder. “It’s the place to cool down after a show, and you look like you could use a nap.”

He can’t argue there. Literally, he cannot. He’s about to fall flat on his face and if he doesn’t find some caffeine or sleep soon, there’s no way he’ll make it home safely tonight.

“Alright.” He says, voice already a mile deep from exhaustion. He tries to smile kindly, but his lanky body almost flops off the side of his stool as he stands and he finds himself struggling to stay composed at all. He turns after her, prepared to follow for whatever solace she’s offering. She takes his hand and leads him through the crowd, sparing a glance back at the stage just as the lights dim and the radio fades.

His eyes follow her gaze, watching as the spotlight comes on and lands on three figures on the stage. ll at the drums, beaming, IV swaying softly with his guitar, and III; taking up center stage and swiping his hair out of his eyes.

Venus drags him through some beaded curtains and the crowd gathers around the stage as slowly, they begin to play.

[verycharismaticdragon]

Hi lovely! I recently got into cdramas and have fallen in love with Word of Honor. I have read your meta post on the original novel and would greatly appreciate it if you were to provide me with the link to the tyk novel if you have it.

Hey there! Sure thing. There are several translations around, but sadly one of the best ones seems to have been deleted/locked, so here's my current recommendation:

Start w/ chapters 1-29 from lianzi (their tl is the best of the ones currently around)

Read chapters 30-77 from chichi (technically they have a full tl of the main text, but i prefer lianzi's)

Finish with 5 extras from kexingzishu (chichi also has some extras tl'ed, but! kexingzishu's doc has the 5th extra thats not translated anywhere else!)

Additionally: TYK is actually the second book in a series, with the first being Qi Ye / Lord Seventh. Translation of Qi Ye can be found here. The protagonist of this one is Jing Beiyuan, while Zhou Zishu is a prominent side character. Now uh whether to start with Qi Ye, esp coming from watching the show...

Basically, starting w/ Qi Ye: pros: you will actually know the correct backstory for TYK Zhou Zishu and not expect the beats from the show that will never come (eg 81 dead sect members); you will have a coherent picture of thematic framework of both novels together; you'll be able to appreciate the cameos in TYK fully. cons: i have seen show-first people run out of Qi Ye screaming that their poor little meow meow would never over the first atrocity Zhou Zishu commits; it's more political drama than wuxia, so if you prefer the latter, it can be a bit boring.

starting with TYK: pros: a little less heavy, or at least slightly more comedic, than Qi Ye - so an easier read; Zhou Zishu is more chill due to being retired, so you can slowly get used to his amoral villain-of-another-story ways instead of being slapped in the face with that one plot point; the best character (Wen Kexing) is there. cons: everything you saw in the show will actively hinder your understanding of the characters and themes; you will have to contend with Zhou Zishu's lying ass unreliable narration; you will miss some implications, esp of the scenes with Jing Beiyuan.

So uh, this is all I can tell you. Up to you where to start!

[nevenkebla]

Un día con Spider-Man

Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man (2019) #6 Tom Taylor (Escritor), Juan Cabal (Dibujante)

— Spider-Man: ¿Estás bien? — Spider-Bite: Sí. Es solo… — Spider-Man: Quítate la máscara. — Spider-Bite: Pero, ¿Y mi identidad secreta? — Spider-Man: Tranquilo, hemos salvado el mundo entero. Creo que ya es suficiente aventura. Vamos, Nathan. Hora de bajar. Zancudo, ¿Te apañas con él? — Papá de Nathan: Creo que sí, gracias.

— Nathan: Has sido un Zancudo genial, papá. — Papá de Nathan: Gracias. Siempre aspiré a ser más formidable al conseguir llegar a los estantes de arriba. — Spider-Man: Él… ah. Tal vez se haya rozado el codo entre luchar con Doc Ock y salvar la ciudad. — Mamá de Nathan: Es un precio pequeño. — Nathan: Ha habido una serie de errores de continuidad y agujeros argumentales, mamá, pero he luchado con los Sesenta Siniestros. — Mamá de Nathan: Mi héroe. Ahora, a la camita. — Nathan: No estoy cansado. — Mamá de Nathan: Vamos. Incluso los superhéroes descansan. ¿Verdad, Spider-Man? — Spider-Man: Por supuesto. Salvar la ciudad es agotador. — Nathan: ¡NO QUIERO IRME A LA CAMA! ¡Lo siento! ¡Lo siento! No quería estropearlo. Yo… — Spider-Man: No has estropeado nada. Está bien. Más que bien. Lo he pasado genial. Hemos hecho uno de los team-ups más épicos de siempre.

— Papá de Nathan: ¿Podemos hablar un momento? — Spider-Man: Claro. — Nathan: ¿Vas a volver? ¿Te despedirás? — Spider-Man: Pues claro. No voy a dejar tirado a mi socio. — Mamá de Nathan: Muchísimas gracias. Solo quería ser Spider-Man durante un día. Y tú… has hecho que eso fuera realidad de una forma que no podíamos imaginar. Siento su rabieta. — Spider-Man: No se preocupen por eso. Es un chico genial. Y, eh, nadie quiere irse a la cama cuando se está divirtiendo. — Mamá de Nathan: No es eso. Él… ah… — Papá de Nathan: Le preocupa no despertarse.

— Spider-Man: ¿Tiene un abrigo? — Mamá de Nathan: ¿Qué? — Spider-Man: Un abrigo. Algo caliente. — Mamá de Nathan: Ah… ¿Sí? — Spider-Man: Eh, Nathan. — Nathan: Siento haber gritado. Has estado increíble, y… — Spider-Man: No te preocupes por eso. ¿Te ha gustado ser Spider-Man por un día? — Nathan: Sí, sí, ha sido alucinante. — Spider-Man: Bien, porque pasa una cosa… el día no ha terminado.

[catmaidetho]

🍁🍁WHY YOU SHOULD VOTE FOR ETHO IN THE MCYTBLR SEXYMAN POLLS🍁🍁

a text post this time!

he ticks so many sexyman tropes.

tropes sourced from here

ANIMAL THEMING. (speaking of llamas! also arctic foxes!)

ANGST. (last life ethubs

CAPITALIST. (he has a shopping addiction. he's admitted to it.)

CHAOTIC. (have you seen the recent anvil wars pettiness??)

CON ARTIST. (DOES SHADE-E-E'S MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?)

MILF.

QUOTEABLE CATCHPHRASE. (oh snappers! uh-huh, yep yep! SPEAKING OF LLAMAS!)

DIVORCED. (LAST LIFE ETHUBS....)

EYE IMAGERY. (only look in one eye. dont look in the other bad things will happen.)

SMARTDUMB. (he is so pathetic and floppy but he builds the most impressive redstone contraptions you've ever laid your eyes on)

KNIFEMURDERER. (fishingrods you fishingrods you fishingrods you)

CANON/FANON DIVERGENCE. (he is simply not that mysterious or aloof i wrote a whole characterization post on how to get him right)

FLANDERIZATION. (he does this to himself half his personality is being canadian, saying sorry, and drinking coffee. we also do this with his sleeplessness)

MYSTERIOUS. (GOODTIMESWITHSCAR HIMSELF said that etho is "mysterous" on a recent livstream.)

COVERED FACE. (we love a man in a mask)

PERPETUAL SMILER. (you can always tell he is smiling in his videos, he's such a smiley guy)

SCARS. (eye scar! also fanon gives him mouth/lip scars a lot!)

TALL. (listen we dont know for sure that he's that tall but he's taller than bdubs)

THEME SONG. (resource gathering by elybeatmaker)

WHITE HAIR. (kakashi naruto)

OTHER THINGS OF NOTE

i have so much etho trivia in my brain always

he is a paramore stan. [x]

his lets play series is at 575 episodes and has been running for 12 years with only one world reset when the end was released.

his style has influenced many of the hermits, to the point doc has called him their mother (in a sense). [x]

literally all of the hermits love him. you should too. [x]

VOTE ETHO.

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

Now that I have written 18 (!!) Donald Pierce fics, I figure it’s probably time to organize them a bit for tumblr! So here we go!

Your Mercy’s Got Teeth, Baby: Here’s the thing. It’s technically in all of the Reavers’ contracts that they give Alkali-Transigen blanket permission to perform medical testing on their bodies after death. Donald just hadn’t figured that would still apply to someone who got revived. On the run from Alkali, Donald Pierce finds himself short on options and friends. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Logan is none too happy to see him again.

Heart, for a Loss: Five times Donald Pierce thinks he’s in love, and one time he actually is. (CW: non-con, underage)

Stand at Attention: After a tough mission, Donald Pierce and Frank Castle share some alone time.

What Nightmares May Come: The Corinthian reacquaints himself with Donald Pierce. (CW: implied non-con, implied child abuse)

What Good Girls Get: Truth be told he’d been expecting something more in line with ‘power-drunk cop’ or ‘horny marine’ when Gabby had brought up the whole roleplaying thing a few weeks back. But he guesses he can’t begrudge her having a type, even if it means he’s gotta be some butch dyke at the grungiest lesbian bar in Mexico City. Donald figures he can be a good girl. Just this once, and just for her.

Twice Shy: Stranded in the past, Logan expects to spend the next few decades blowing his time and his cash on cheap alcohol in dead-end small towns. He doesn’t expect eighteen-year-old Donald Pierce, pretty, bitchy, smart as a whip, and on the doorstep of the rest of his life.

3AM After the End: While the mutant children continue on to the border, Logan is captured by what’s left of the Reavers. So is Donald Pierce. Turns out, they aren’t all too happy with their old boss. (CW: non-con)

Rinse and Repeat (and Repeat and–): Woulda, coulda, shoulda might as well be on Donald Pierce’s tombstone. Instead of dying, he finds himself continuously repeating the day that started it all, and gets to find out if he would, if he could, and if he should. (CW: non-con)

Colorful Places series (completed: yes)

Friendly Favors, at Cost: Gabby had been expecting a bullet to the back of the head for her role in helping Laura and the others escape. Instead she gets a suite in a ritzy hotel, courtesy of Donald Pierce.

The Marrying Kind: Gabby and Pierce struggle to settle into their new life in hiding. Gabby realizes something’s gotta change.

A Study of Similarities series (completed: yes)

Variations on a Theme: Donald Pierce meets a different version of himself. He’s still deciding if he likes him.

Three and Just Begun: Donald Pierce tags along when Doc Donnie gets a booty call. He has a better time than he expected.

Winning’s in the Way We Lie: For some reason, there's no "Yes, I want to reveal deep and disturbing truths about our shared sexual histories with my clone" answer on the clonefucking poll. Donald wouldn't pick it, but maybe Doc would.

Where Wolves Fear to Prey series (completed: yes)

Good-Time Boy: It’s the first time in ages Donald Pierce hasn’t wanted to be the first guy out of the room. After a month of playing engineer for the Blackguard mercenaries, Donald is actually sorry to leave. Apparently they feel the same way, because he gets a surprise going-away party… and then the surprises just keep coming. (CW: past non-con, accidental non-con)

Like a Virgin: Donald wants to get fucked. He doesn’t want to have to like it.

Perfect Reflection series (completed: yes)

Deja Blues: Ty Shaw sees the taciturn stranger at the bar and sees an opportunity for some fun. It’s a pity the stranger sees something – or maybe someone – else.

Difference of Degrees: Ty thinks he’s just signing up for some sexy, naughty roleplay when Logan asks him to be sorry. Ty may be in over his head.

Belly of the Beast: Ty’s not in the mood. Logan is. (CW: non-con)

[pluralzalpha]

SDCC: Robert Picardo, Tig Notaro, Mary Wiseman, And Oded Fehr Join ‘Star Trek: Starfleet Academy’ – TrekMovie.com

Holy hell, the Doctor's going to be in it?

I hope this is the backup Doc from "Living Witness," I've said before he'd be getting home around then.