#and what i hate is that I was SO VERY MUCH ENOUGH

[idklackingimaginationapologies2]

Would just like to add that I personally would hate doing most of the things I enjoy and am passionate about for money because that would prevent me from being able to enjoy it. And I'm sure many other people feel similarly.

I used to feel really stressed about trying to figure out what job I should have (still do tbh but for different reasons) because I'd been told I should think of what I enjoy doing and translate that into something I could be payed for.

But I always knew that most things I enjoy I need to be able to do with no pressure on them otherwise I won't enjoy them, and I need to be able to do them in order for me to be calm enough and have enough energy to do stuff I don't want to.

So it would have been very helpful for me to have been told before (and not had to figure that out by myself) that sometimes it is enough to enjoy it enough to do it for a long time, that I don't need to enjoy it as much as or in the same way as I enjoy my hobbies.

Obviously for some people this would be a bad way to go about things but for me this is definitely the best.

When you're a kid/teenager everyone expects you to base your career around your passions and interests and that works for a lot of people but it's not the full story. I wish they would also teach students to consider the lifestyle that career would require.

Like... if I had to choose a passion and work a career around it, I would probably work at a zoo or aquarium. But those jobs require a lot of schooling with STEM classes (which I hate) and a lot of early mornings (which make me feel ill) and an obligation to work in person with no flexibility to move (which makes me depressed). So even if I'd enjoy caring for animals all day, it's not a good career path for me.

My current job is travel writing, which is not my passion. I like it, but it's not my passion. But I work a flexible schedule, I can live anywhere, I get a travel stipend, and my team is really chill. So it works for me.

Rather than solely focusing on "What topics do you like?" I think we should ask students "Of the careers that suit your preferred lifestyle, which are the most interesting?"

[the-real-rain-world-confessions]

is this a safe space

almost all of the "controversy" I've seen in this fandom has been the dumbest shit ever, and people are being HARASSED OUT OF THE FANDOM over it. seriously, I've seen all these "exposing ___ for being a predator" posts and then it's just a 17 year old making sex jokes with a 19 year old or situations where the "older person" genuinely isn't at total fault. not to mention the amount of times people have been accused of being "zoophiles" over drawing normal ass furry porn (especially of anthro slugcats). this is the Internet. porn is and always has been a thing, and it's not evil. it's not "ruining your fandom".

I don't even know where to start with the weird puritanical "all sex is evil and bad" thing going on in this fandom, or the straight up infantilisation of teenagers. Yes, 16 year olds know what porn is. yes, they look for it. no, they will not explode and die if they see it. NOBODY is hornier than the average high schooler, stop treating them like little kids who shouldn't even be allowed to acknowledge the existence of sex until they're 18 it's fucking weird (and for the love of god stop throwing "zoophile" and "groomer" around so loosely. those words have lost almost all of their meaning at this point, a groomer is NOT a legal adult who happened to mention the concept of sex around a 17 year old)

speaking from a place of genuine care and concern, so many people in this fandom need to grow the fuck up. not every friend group drama needs a Google doc and a public call-out post. teenagers/"minors" are not these angelic babies who can do no wrong and are free of consequences and are always the victims. you are old enough to think for yourself and make good decisions, and you are, in fact, capable of being in the wrong -- just as much as the young adults you claim are also old enough to know better. this mob hate mentality is destroying the fandom more than any amount of furry porn or teenagers making sex jokes

I tried very hard to shorten this as much as possible

.

[buddhistmusings]

Why do you care so much?

I've been asked this question a few times in the past year - why I spend so much time thinking, reading, and reflecting on antisemitism, especially because I am not Jewish myself. There are a few reasons, really. One of them is that I think antisemitism is a hatred that spawns other hatreds, but even if it did not, it would still be worth studying, because the fact that it is a hatred at all is enough. The fact that antisemitism impacts Jewish people is enough of a reason to oppose it.

It's also because it's important to oppose because of the way it damages the thinking habits of people who believe it. I saw somebody say, "Jew-Hate makes you dumb," once. And though I think it was probably an off the cuff statement for them, it stuck with me, and I think they're right. In my religion, we say hatred is one of the three poisons - it can seriously harm your mental well-being in a way that deepens your suffering in all aspects of life. Often, hatred can also be spread like a contagion. It's something that destroys social harmony and causes severe social dysfunction. And right now, I think antisemitism is the most contagious of hatreds - I've seen people in my life fall off the cliff, I've been able to talk some back from it, and I've seen how so many people wander towards it without any idea that that's what they're doing.

Part of the problem is that antisemites consider themselves righteous in a way I think most racists don't. Often, you'll see "I'm not racist but" I almost never see that with antisemitism. They don't add that qualifier. They just say it. Most racists I know will make a tacit acknowledgment of the racist implications of what they're about to say - antisemitic people don't. They often even engage in anti-Jewish racism while invoking anti-racism.

I don't really know any Jewish people in real life, perhaps only two. But I don't need to know them to know that hating them is wrong. I think I also have a debt of gratitude to many people in the Jewish community because of the advances in Buddhist Studies made by Jewish people, which sounds strange - but it's true that many leading voices and researchers, both in academia and within Buddhism itself happen to be Jewish. I'm not sure why this is, but it's absolutely true. The most prolific translator of Pali into English that I can think of is Jewish. The most impactful Vipassana instructor in America I can think of is Jewish. The most impactful voice in Deity Yoga, for Tibetan Buddhism, is Jewish. People who are Jewish, for some reason, contributed probably more than ex-Christian Americans or atheists combined to the proliferation of Buddhism in the United States.

Buddhists and Jewish people are known to have a close relationship. There are a lot of different reasons for this that I would suggest, but none that add up to explain the amazing contributions to Buddhism made by American Jews.

I think another reason I have for being so interested in antisemitism as a non-Jew is the kind of... political disillusionment I've been experiencing? It's been a disturbing few years, and I haven't seen many people elaborate very well on this feeling of abandonment and horror, witnessing people who you thought shared your values become hateful and deeply violent in their beliefs. The only people I've seen consistently speak about it happen to be Jewish.

I think all of this has helped contribute to a feeling of closeness to Jewish people as a group, despite that I don't really know Jewish people in my real life, and only have one or two Jewish friends online. This year has been a horror show of watching people's minds become twisted - it's so scary in a way I can't quite capture with words right now.

I also sometimes have a back and forth with myself about when and if to mention I'm not Jewish when I talk about antisemitism, because I do think it's totally necessary to explain the perspective from which I speak, but to be honest it feels kind of icky to be like "I'm not Jewish, but antisemitism is bad", because antisemitism is bad whether or not the person saying so isn't Jewish, and I think it might be a negative for people to think "not being Jewish" is something which makes it any less valuable to be against antisemitism, and talk about how against it you are. It's very real that people who talk about antisemitism are perceived to be Jewish, and obviously, it's important not to lead people into thinking you're Jewish when you're not, but adding an "I'm not Jewish" qualifier to statements about antisemitism I worry might contribute to the perception that those against antisemitism are Jewish.

Antisemitism is such an insidious ideology. And it's everywhere. I see it daily in so many different spaces. It has the largest impact on Jewish people, but it also impacts non-Jewish people at times. I distinctly remember being mocked throughout school for "looking Jewish." I think about that Greek restaurant which was attacked because they were thought to be Jewish. Or that man in the Amsterdam violence who tried to help and was then accused of being Jewish himself. It's so deluded, violent, and manages to consume people's thoughts like a parasitic worm in their brain.

Anyways, I planned for this post to be more organized. Oops.

[milktiicup]

Helloooo! I love your writing so much! I read it all day every time you post, especially your homicipher ones 🥹🫶 I hope you're doing great today btw!

If it isn't too much to ask, can you write the homicipher cast's reactions about the baby of Mr. Crawling and Mc? 👀

I imagine some would be very funny 😭

Have a lovely dayyy! Mwamwa!

little hands, dark hearts!

homicipher cast meeting you and mr crawling's baby! > scarletella, silvair, chopped, hood, machete mr crawling baby saga! chapter 1 chapter 2

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ i think you can tell i have favs by the amount of length and detail some of these have dkjfhkdhdgj

warnings. lol just pure angst in mr. scarletella's

MR. SCARLETELLA

He stares. And he stares. And he stares.

The silence is suffocating, weighing heavier than the shadows beneath his feet. Dull, grey eyes bore into yours, searching for answers that you couldn’t give. 

Of course, he brought you here to be with him. You gave him all these lovely offerings, shedding beautiful blood in his name, stared directly into his eyes as he enveloped you, taking you to his domain- but you wouldn’t give him your name. You stand there, swinging your crowbar, defiance burning in your eyes. It’s not fear he sees, not submission, but anger- a raw, searing thing that slices through the quiet like a blade. And it confuses him. No, it infuriates him.

His grip on his umbrella tightens, the knuckles whitening. His lips twist into a scowl, but behind it, something softer flickers- an ache he doesn’t know how to name. He’s used to taking. Claiming. But you… you’re not like the others. You’re still standing. Still staring. Still resisting.

And it only makes him want you more.

But then there’s him.

That thing. That crawling, pathetic thing that dares to share the space you once offered to him.

What does that creature have that he doesn’t? What pull does it hold over you, to make you look at it like that? Mr. Scarletella hates him. Oh, how he hates him. He hates your baby. Hates the way its small hands grasp at you, the way you cradle it against your chest as if it’s the most precious thing in your world. He hates the way your smile softens when you whisper to it, the way you laugh when it coos.

You look so happy. How could he take that away from you? And yet- how could you do this to him? You like him. He likes you. Why did you pick him?

The resentment pools in his chest like ink, sticky and dark. He wants to scream, to tear down this fragile illusion of happiness you’ve built, to drag you back into his arms where you belong. And yet, his hands tremble. His scowl falters.

You look so happy.

And the thought guts him. How could he take that away from you?

His lips twitch, caught between a sneer and a sigh, as he looks away. For the first time, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to take what he wants.

Mr. Scarletella’s chest rises and falls, his breath unsteady. His umbrella clatters to the ground, forgotten as his hands flex and curl into fists at his sides. He steps closer, the air around him rippling with suppressed fury.

“Why?” The question tears from his throat, jagged and raw, barely above a whisper. His crimson eyes gleam with something between desperation and rage. “Why?”

He’s staring at you again, but this time, there’s no pretense of control. Just pain, naked and wild, burning in the shadows of his gaze.

You don’t answer. How could you?

So, he waits. And he stares. And he waits.

MR. SILVAIR

Mr. Silvair holds your baby, careful and learning. His bandage gaze peers into the little eyes, baby babbling and cooing and reaching for his hair. He smiles, soft and curious. 

His infatuation with your child is endless. How was it possible for you two to procreate? To create something from something undead, a ghost, a monster- and a perfectly normal human. Questions that he will never have answers for- questions he doesn’t dare act upon. The baby is fragile, soft, and defenseless. He couldn’t take it apart and put it back together- he can’t break something that could never be fixed.

And the question eggs him at the back of his mind- what if it could?

His hands steady yet soft, as though he’s cradling the most fragile thing in existence. The baby babbles, tiny fists reaching for the loose strands of his silver hair, and when their fingers catch hold of it, she giggles with pure delight.

“Them like,” he observes, his voice unusually tender.

You stifle a laugh. “Of course she does. It’s shiny. Babies love shiny things.”

His head tilts slightly, silver hair brushing against the baby’s chubby cheeks as they continue their determined mission to grab at more strands. “Shiny good?” he asks, his curiosity genuine, as if this is just another puzzle he’s determined to solve.

“Very good,” you assure him, stepping closer to watch the two of them. “She’s clearly a fan.”

The baby lets out a happy squeal, wriggling in his grasp. Silvair’s gaze flickers down to her, and though his eyes are hidden, there’s something warm in his expression. “Strong grip,” he notes, “Healthy.”

You smile softly, leaning against the counter. “She’s got her father’s energy, that’s for sure.”

Mr. Silvair doesn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on the baby as they try- and fail- to stuff one of his fingers into their tiny mouth. He gently redirects their hands, careful and patient. “Small,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Important.”

His words catch you off guard, and you glance at him. “Important?”

He looks up, tilting his head. “From you. Important. Interested in them.”

The simplicity of his statement warms something in your chest, even if he was purely fascinated with your child out of sheer scientific interest. You’re not sure if he fully understands the weight of his words, but at this moment, it doesn’t matter. You’ll take the softness of the moment. 

The baby lets out another squeal, this one more demanding, and Mr. Silvair bounces them slightly in his arms, an action so natural it makes you blink in surprise. The baby quiets immediately, snuggling into his chest with a content sigh.

“Good,” he says, more to the baby than to you. 

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. “She likes you,” you comment with a shuffled laugh. Of all the monsters here, your child just has to like the one who tears you apart. 

Mr. Silvair tilts his head again, his smile returning faintly as he glances down at the now-sleepy baby. “Me like them.”

“Cute?”

“Cute.”

MR. CHOPPED

“Want carry them,” Mr. Chopped pouts, cheeks puffed. “Them cute.”

“She’s so cute, isn’t she?” you chuckle.

The baby giggles, a toothless, gummy smile as bright as the sun. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in a mix of frustration and wistful longing. “Me carry. Want carry,” he repeated, his tone almost petulant.

“You’d need arms for that,” you tease, bouncing the baby lightly on your hip. The baby squeals, her laugh infectious, and you couldn’t help but grin down at her. “She’s so happy to see you, though. Look, she’s waving!” You guide her tiny hand in a slow wave toward Mr. Chopped.

His face lit up with exaggerated enthusiasm, his head tilting as he “leans” closer, as if proximity would help convey his affection. “Cute,” he said with deep conviction. “Many cute. Little human.”

The baby gurgles in response, her toothless smile lighting up her face. She reaches out as though she wants to grab him, her tiny fingers opening and closing in that delightful way babies do.

“See?” you laugh. “She wants to hold you!”

Mr. Chopped’s pout deepens dramatically. “Unfair. No arms. No hold. No carry. Me sad.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re fine, Mr. Chopped. She can’t even hold her own head up for long; I’m sure she’s not judging you for not having arms.”

“Baby not judge,” he said solemnly, his voice tender. “Baby happy.”

“She likes you,” you reassure him with a smile. “You’ve got that big, friendly face, and you’re always talking to her like she’s the most fascinating thing in the world.”

“Them are,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone so earnest it made you laugh again.

“Well, maybe one day we’ll rig up some kind of… carrier for you,” you offered jokingly. “So you can hold her. Or at least let her sit in your lap- if you had one.”

Mr. Chopped perked up at that, his cheeks puffing out again with excitement this time. “Yes! Make lap. Make arms. Then carry. Hug!”

“She’d probably love that,” you said, kissing the baby’s soft head. She giggled again, her tiny hands reaching out toward Mr. Chopped, her eyes bright and full of wonder.

MR. HOOD

“Not understand,” Mr. Hood repeats.

You sigh. “You have to support the back of her head,” you say, guiding his ghostly arm to the baby’s nape. “Gentle. She’s fragile.”

“Weak,” he observes. “Much small.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “so we have to protect her.”

Mr. Hood’s form shifts as he processes your instructions, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering through his voice. “Protect... small weak thing.” His hand hovers near the baby’s head. It trembles slightly, not from lack of strength but from hesitation- like a predator trying to handle something delicate for the first time.

You place your hands over his, guiding him with care. “That’s right. Support her head. Babies can’t hold their heads up yet.”

He tilts slightly, as though trying to look closer, though his featureless head offers no expression to read. The baby gurgles softly, her tiny fingers curling around one of his. The textureless appendage seems to surprise her, and she coos in delight, kicking her chubby legs.

“Why small thing hold?” Mr. Hood asks, his voice edged with wonder.

“She’s curious,” you explain, smiling at the sight. “She doesn’t know what you are, but she wants to hold on to you.”

“Not wise.” His tone is flat, but there’s no malice in it. He shifts slightly, his massive frame dwarfing her. “Me danger. Not afraid?”

“She doesn’t know fear yet,” you say softly. “She only knows what feels safe.”

His hand rests under the baby’s head and back now, cradling her with surprising gentleness. The contrast is almost surreal- his immense strength and amorphous form against the fragility of a newborn. The baby giggles again, wiggling in his hold.

“Small thing… trust,” he murmurs, his tone almost contemplative.

“She does,” you say, watching them with a warmth blooming in your chest. “And that’s why we protect her.”

“Protect,” he repeats, as if testing the word. His grip shifts slightly, more confident. “Protect small thing. Understand.”

It’s strange, seeing someone- or something- like Mr. Hood in this role, but in the quiet moment, his usual air of detachment seems to melt away. The baby yawns, her tiny body sinking deeper into his hold, completely at ease.

MR. GAP

“Give little thing,” Mr. Gap says from the vent, his voice more curious than menacing. You freeze, hand still cradling your baby close to your chest as his long, dark arm stretches out, holding something soft and fluffy- a teddy bear.

Your baby, who has been cooing and kicking her legs happily in your arms, notices the movement. Her bright eyes widen, and she reaches out toward the stuffed bear with an eager little giggle.

“Give them?” It’s such an innocent request. He’s just offering the bear, his dark figure so out of place in the light of the room, but there’s something almost endearing about it.

You laugh softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, she’d love that,” you say. “She’s been really into cuddly things lately.”

The baby coos again, her tiny hands reaching for the bear, almost as if she recognizes the gesture as a gift. She touches it gently, then pulls it closer to her chest in a little snuggle, her face lighting up with joy.

“See? She likes it!” you say, glancing at Mr. Gap, your voice teasing. “Thanks to you.”

Mr. Gap pulls back slightly, his hand retreating into the vent, but you catch a glimpse of a subtle shift in his posture- a pleased air about him, as if he’s satisfied with the outcome.

“Them happy?” he asks.

You smile warmly, watching the baby continue to clutch the teddy bear like it’s her new best friend. “Yeah, she’s happy. And that makes me happy.”

A soft, quiet chuckle seems to come from the vent, and you can almost imagine a small, pleased grin behind the shadows. “Good,” Mr. Gap says, his voice full of pride. “Me good.”

The bear is now in the baby’s tiny hands, and her sleepy eyes begin to flutter shut, the soft comfort of the stuffed toy pulling her into a drowsy stupor. You gently rock her back and forth, watching as she drifts off to sleep, clutching the bear to her chest like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Thank you, Mr. Gap,” you say softly, though he’s long disappeared back into his shadowy realm. You’re not sure if he heard, but you still find yourself whispering it anyway.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels a little bit lighter.

MR. MACHETE

“What… that?” he asks, a finger lazily pointing at your baby nestled in your arms.

“It’s my baby!” you reply, pridefully, and cradle her for exaggeration. Within a second, your face falls firm, and you sternly say, “No fighting little thing.”

“Not fight?” Mr. Machete’s jagged smile turns into a comical looking frown. He scowls, and turns away. “Not interested.”

“Mr. Macheteee,” you whine, “Just look at her! Isn’t she just so cute?”

Mr. Machete pauses mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing at your words. He lets out a huff, loud and exaggerated, before reluctantly glancing over his shoulder. “Cute?” he echoes, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. His tone is skeptical, almost offended. His machete falls to his side, an ear-scratching ‘clang!’ that disturbs you more than your baby.

The baby coos, her tiny hands waving aimlessly in the air. Her bright, gummy smile beams up at him, and for a moment, Mr. Machete looks genuinely stumped. 

“Them small. Shape wrong,” he notes, leaning in closer. His massive frame looms over her, but he makes no move to get too close. “Weak. No teeth. Cannot hold attack tool.”

He stares at the baby a moment longer, his scowl softening ever so slightly as the baby giggles, a bright, happy sound that cuts through his rough demeanor like a blade. She reaches toward him, her tiny fingers grabbing at the air, and for reasons you don’t quite understand, he doesn’t immediately pull away.

The baby’s determination seems to intrigue him. He tilts his head and extends a single finger- not a threatening move, but cautious, almost testing. Her tiny hand catches his finger, and she grips it tightly, her toothless grin growing impossibly wider.

“Them strong,” he finally admits, his voice low but tinged with what could almost be considered respect. “When little thing big, fight.”

You roll your eyes. Well, at least he gave your baby some attention.

[crankydevon]

I'm taking this derailed post all the way to the end of the alternate route!

I stopped taking T when I was about 35, and I wish now that I had stayed on a low dose, at the very least. Estrogen has not been good for my mental or physical health, and testosterone can't undo all the permanent changes. (I went back on T almost a year ago, and many things are better for me.)

Bone density loss is a real problem, especially if you don't consume a lot of real (not vegan) dairy. Hot flashes were/are super distressing for my autistic senses, and even neurotypical folks hate them. Brain fog is real, crying all the time is real, and brief psychotic episodes can definitely happen if you already have PMDD when your estrogen levels fall. You don't need psych meds; you need a hormone (or 2 or 3.) Low dose T is still prescribed to cis women in perimenopause for low libido, so you can probably try out a micro dose to see how it goes, but it won't be enough T to replace all your estrogen later.

Bother your doctors over and over again if you do not get relief from the hot flashes, brain fog, painful/extreme periods, and other related symptoms of low hormone levels! Call their office or send a message to their web portal! Ask your GYN to refer you to a different GYN if they can't or won't help you get a good hormone balance. I had to "fire" 2 gynecologists before I found one who had any idea of what a normal, therapeutic dose of estrogen is. (They were giving me 1/20 of what I needed.)

Hot tip if you are at risk for uterine cancer: an IUD with progesterone in it will prevent uterine cancer. Mirena is one brand, but there are others. They were used during the shutdown in 2020 to help women with uterine cancer who were not able to get surgery right away. It stopped their cancer from progressing. (there may be exceptions, but this is what the good GYN said.)

Also, oral estrogen hrt does not cause breast cancer or heart attacks like they used to think. There's evidence that it improves cardio-vascular health for patients who need it, because having no sex hormones is just so universally bad for you.

It's tough to advocate for yourself in the medical bureaucracy, but it's easier when you have some information to take with you. Perimenopause can start much earlier than you think, so if you're over 30, I recommend doing some web searches now. Good sites include nih.gov mayoclinic.org clevelandclinic.org and reddit.com, really! There are forums there about hormones and menopause and more! Good luck. (p.s. feel free to Ask me about any of this stuff, although I am not a medical professional.)

Gather around, my young friends and fellow dinosaurs, let me tell you about some BULLSHIT no one ever tells you about. I'm talking about menopause and perimenopause. Now, menopause has a very stringent medical definition. You have to not have had a period for exactly 12 months and a day to be considered in menopause. All the bullshit before that day once you start going through The Change is considered perimenopause. Here's some bullshit you might experience that people actually talk about when you're in perimenopause:

- shorter time between periods

- irregular periods

- hot flashes and/or cold flashes

- fucked up sleep

- OMG NIGHT SWEATS

- Vagina as dry as the Sahara desert

- lighter periods and/or endless bleeding like it's The Flood but it's in your pants

- lack of interest in Adult Fun Times

This time of joy can last anywhere from a couple of years to a god damn decade and there's no medical way right now to predict it.

Here's some of the REAL bullshit they don't tell you about but your dinosaur aunt is here to let you know:

- You can start perimenopause in your 30s, don't listen to idiot doctors who tell you you're "too young" because they don't know your body like you do.

- Perimenopause will make you HELLA DUMB. Seriously, I'm talking Bigly broken brain. Brain fog? Check. Short term memory? Wave goodbye to it. Ability to make words form out of thoughts? Yeah, good luck to you.

- Perimenopause can cause horrible fatigue because in addition to losing estrogen, you're also losing testosterone. Oh and that also leads to muscle wasting, cool cool.

- Things might suddenly hurt more because estrogen is known to be neuroprotective.

- If you're super lucky like I am, and like to collect rare illnesses, you might even get Burning Mouth Syndrome 💀

- And meanwhile, while you're going through this bullshit, you'll be getting gaslit by doctors who are operating based on 30 year old debunked data about how HRT causes breast cancer (not really) and that they shouldn't put you on it until you're in actual menopause. (Data shows starting HRT early can potentially prevent Alzheimer's in later years.)

- There are entire online clinics right now (I use Midi Health) focused on providing care for peri and menopausal patients and they will happily prescribe you HRT even if your regular PCP or OBGYN do not (if you meet the criteria). I've been pretty impressed with how holistically they view the patient. For full disclosure, I learned about them from my integrative health doctor and they do not accept Medicare (yet).

I'm 46 years old right now and I've been symptomatic for perimenopause for the last 8 years, although it's gotten the most dramatic in the past 2 years or so, which I hope means I'm almost done, holy hell. Yeah I was on the early side, but if it can happen to me, it can happen to you, so it's never too early to think about these things. And I hope to at least spare some of you the mind-fuckery I've been through because no one told me about most of this stuff, including my own mother who just DOESN'T REMEMBER what happened to her and now I completely understand why. And because I also have a connective tissue disease, I used to just dismiss my pain and fatigue as being caused by that illness rather than the loss of hormones.

Anyways, this is why we need Elders in our lives, so they can do Grandma Story Hour like I just did and validate you when the entire medical field tries to gaslight you. I hope you've found some or all of this educational/useful. Please share with your friends because we really do NOT talk about this stuff enough. (Ewwww Moon Blood!)

Stay well, and don't let the bastards grind you down!

[biteyoubiteme]

I'll be quick

huening kai x fem!reader

synopsis: dress shopping with your boyfriend.

warnings: 🔞!!! slight exhibitionism, chubby reader implied, no protection, creampie mention, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.9k

an: thank you so much for requesting hp! im so nervous for you to read this lol I hope you like it if you don’t just put me down nicely :)) <3333

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

“How about this one?” you ask, smoothing your hands down the front of the silk dress you wore. It was the kind of material that should not be worn with this type of underwear; your pantie line clearly visible. Your hands went sliding down over your ass as if that would make the buckled fabric disappear. “Ignore the fact I'm wearing the wrong panties,” 

You give a slow spin in the fluorescent lights, the semicircle of mirrors reflecting every angle of your dress-clad figure at you. But all you can see is the damned line from your underwear. “Actually don't answer that, I hate it,” 

“I love it,” Kai speaks up from his spot opposite the mirrors. He's leaning back with your purse in his lap, eyes tracing up and down your body as he watches the way the material clings to you. He can imagine the way it would feel under his fingers, sliding over the expanse of your thighs. 

“You always say that,” you mutter, turning your cheek to look at the dress from the back. You can see Huening watching, eyes tacked right to the outline of your underwear. “Kai,” 

“What?” he blinks up at you like he was caught. Cheeks flushed as he pulled your bag closer to his lap.

“Is it that bad?” It was late in the day, and your usual trip to the mall was fun. Both of you could spend hours going from shop to shop, no need to buy anything but to spend time together looking at all the new things in store. It was one of your favorite things to do. 

Kai would follow you around like a little puppy, letting you pick out things for him to try on. Pulling him into dressing rooms so that he could get something new to wear. Spending too much time at the sunglasses wrack, spinning the display around and around, trying on each pair, first on you then on him, giggling over the silly reflective wraparound pairs. He loved when you picked out the different things for him to put on, especially jeans, your hands sliding into the back pockets to check their depth was always his favorite part. 

You had your favorite spots at the food court, always picking the same little table every time you sat down, knees bumping as you picked over each other's meals. Kai would carry your drink while you tried on shoes, hold your bag when you tried on clothes. And most of the time having him along with you made shopping less overstimulating, you could have fun without rushing to just get the shopping over with. 

Only now that you needed a dress for an event it felt like everything was crashing down at that very moment. Nothing felt right, every dress you tried on made it feel like you wouldn't find the one. The lights now make everything look too oversaturated, the dressing room is now cold enough to make goosebumps rise along your arms, and now the stupid panty line. 

You didn't even know why you were so focused on finding the right outfit, it was a last minute decision to even go to the little dinner your friends were hosting. you didn't need something new but you wanted something new. 

“Just take them off,” Kai suggests, sweet face glowing in the lights, every little mole dotting his skin easily seen. 

The fitting rooms were in the back of the store, the long hallway sectioned off with several doors before ending right at the little platform with the mirrors you stood now. Although a few people milled around in the shop just past the corner no one was in the other changing rooms. He was suggesting an easy fix to the only problem you were having with the dress and so you took it. Even though the door to the room where you kept all your other clothes was open and waiting for you to go back inside, you just bent right there hands going up under your dress and hooking in the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down and off without lifting the dress to expose yourself. 

Kai feels all the blood rush to his face, the prickling heat slinking through his bones. It was enough to already be thinking about undressing you, but now seeing you do most of the work for him, at his suggestion, was taking him out. You tossed the fabric into the dressing room, aiming for your pile of clothes but missing, the corner of the fabric still seen from where Kai's sitting. 

“That's so much better,” you're back to sliding your hands down the silky fabric, flattening out any bumps to make sure it's lying right. You love the way it hugs your thighs, outlines the shape of your hips, the curves of your stomach, and lays against the swell of your chest. “Okay now just imagine it without a bra, I'll have to find something without straps,” 

“It's uh- it's really nice,” you look over at him in his hesitation to find that he wasn't saying it just to appease you but was finding it hard to swallow back what he really wanted to say. He was doing exactly what you asked, picturing you naked under all that silk, he could see it falling to the floor, how easy it would be to slip right off of you.  He pushed your purse closer to his growing bulge, cheeks flushing deeper when you asked, “Huening, are you blushing?” 

He loved it when you used that slightly teasing tone on him, it was as if your fingers were brushing up his neck with each word. “I think that's the one,” he was avoiding directly drawing attention to your question, not needing to think about exactly why he’s red so that he can try and wish away his erection before you guys walk out of here. 

“Okay, perfect.  I don't think I want to even try on anymore ,anyways,” you step down from the little platform, “oh, do you think we could stop at the little candy store on the corner and get the gummies we shared last time?” 

“Umhum,” he gives his usual hum in response as you close the door behind you. 

It's only then that you realize that you can't undo the zipper by yourself, he had helped you do up the back with no problem and there was no way for you to reach up to grab the zipper on your own. “Kai? Could you help me take this off?” 

It's the last thing he should be doing, he knows it as soon as he's in the dressing room with you, hand placed on your hip as he steadies you. You're just as soft as he expected, his free hand not even making it to the zipper. You watch him in the mirror in front of you, his eyes following his fingers as they make their way down gripping the outside of your thighs.“God, I love your body,” he groans, his head falling to your shoulder, lips dusting over your shoulder when you finally feel how hard he is. “You really like the dress huh?” 

“No I just love you and need you, please I'll be quick,” he whines right at the back of your ear. 

“Anyone could hear-” 

“I'll be quiet, I promise, please,” and your slight nod is all he needs to push up the back of your dress, his hand pushing between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your fold, swirling over your clit to build up your arousal. You fall forward, hands bracing yourself on the mirror, kai readjusts so that one hand is splayed across your tummy, silk spilling through his fingers. 

He’s quick to free himself from his jeans, pushing them down just enough so that he can line himself up with you, dragging his tip through your folds, catching at your entrance. You know yourself well enough to cover your mouth when he pushes in, the overwhelming stretch of him always making you whine. He's no better, his pretty face reflecting at you as his mouth opens in a silent moan when he fully seats himself inside you. His head falls into your shoulder so that he can muffle any sound that wants to escape, your back arching as his hold on your plushie hip tightens, fingers digging into the soft skin of your tummy. 

Kais intoxicatingly deep inside you, his first thrust pulls a throaty whimper for you that you can't hold back. “This was a bad idea-” you try to whisper, cutting yourself off by clamping your hand back on your mouth when he slams his hips against your ass. His breath fanning over your ear when he whispers, “You feel fucking amazing,” his trapped whimpers rumbling his chest, all the vibrations pressed to your back. He peeks in the mirror, biting his lip when he watches the way your tits bounce, hanging perfectly in view for him, “fuck- look at you,” 

His cock slides so effortlessly in and out of your needy cunt, warm fluttering walls drawing him in until he's forgetting he needs to be silent, that he shouldn't be pounding this hard, changing his orgasm so intensely that someone might hear him. 

It's the soft clapping of skin that reminds you where you are, “slow down kai- we could- we could-,” but it's then that he uses the hand on your hip to slide under the bunched fabric of your dress, to draw circles on your clit. It was an instant shock that had your knees shaking. 

“Who cares,” he's muttering, head shaking as he picks up his pace, “If anyone saw you dressed like this they would want to be right where I am, fuck, but they could never fuck you like I can, never,” his last word caught on the end of a whimper drawn out and pulled from him as he came. 

It's the look on his face, brows tightening, eyes squeezing shut as he falls apart, mixed with his steady pressure on your clit that has you tumbling over the edge after him. Your whole body flexes as he pulls you in tight to him, hand leaving your stomach to clamp over your mouth. 

Both of you are struggling to catch your breath in the now stuffy room, mirror fogged up from your hands, skin once chilled now inflamed with your post-sex afterglow. His cock still jerked even when he pulled out of you, his hand moving to try and stop the spill of your combined release. Your thighs try to close around the feeling of him brushing your sensitive clit while he leans down to pick up your discarded underwear, using them to clean you up. 

He peppers kisses all along your cheeks bunching up the soiled fabric in his hand before unzipping your dress. “I really do love this dress on you,” 

“Oh really? I couldn't tell,” you giggle, and he helps you get dressed, carrying your bags out after you, panties shoved into his back pocket. 

When you leave the store you wrap an arm around his center, going underneath his jacket to feel all his warmth. He slinks his arms around your shoulder, tugging you into his side, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Didn't I hear you say something about getting gummies?” 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! thank you to @thetxtdevil @hmusunoo @hyukascampfire and @prince-jjae for proofreading/beta reading this for me ily all sm okay my little sweet baby angels I hope you get everything youve ever wanted in life and more

[thatbitchery]

Personal finance is tied mostly to your systems as a person. You could make 6 figures a year and still be broke and in debt or you could make 20k a year and be on your way to financial freedom.I have finally achieved financial freedom, and no I do not make super much, depending on who you compare me to. Mostly it's my financial and personal habits that keep me going.

I do not consider fancy a marker of a good life, as a matter of fact I do not understand it. What do you mean a MEAL costs 1000 its never that serious please. I don't consider Givenchy to be any more elevated than what my tailor can make me for 100$. Fancy is not important to me so when I was building my one year emergency fund I did not consider fancy part of the budget. I do not try to purchase status.

And I can not stress this enough- taking risks with my money. Buying a vending machine is one of the best decisions I made this year. Buying a business, as risky as that was, turned out to be great. I have lost money, too. Like a lot. I bought stocks in a startup that crashed and lost a pretty little buck. I dipped into the VR business not too long ago and that tanked. It is not about making the right decisions- with money that is almost never possible. Its about taking risks.

My end goal is not a career its the money. Meaning? I have worked jobs odd and unclassy and not so fun. I have packaged fish at some point- hated it. I have worked as a cashier once. As the personal assistant to some pig that was always trying to get their hand up my skirt. I have done real estate. Currently doing event (wedding) Planning for my girl. I did forex, once. I have been paid to go as someone's date to some event. I am not picky with my jobs because the job is not the end goal, the money is. The goal is to retire by 30 and I will do whatever it takes to get up there. It's the getting paid part that matters the most to me.

Learning to leverage my skills and the situation plus to recognize the opportunities when they show up. My girl's last organizer canceled last minute and I offered to take it if she tops the fee up because I love her but not THAT much. In the process I have met so many people in this place and making connections in a new country will never be a bad idea. I have zero to none skills in event planning but all i hear is compliments (Pinterest the things I'd do for you) and I can add event planning to the options my future self has for careers especially given the profile of this one. A lady at church was divorced and man left her with a mortgage and a financial crisis (your daily reminder marrying rich isn't all that) and i drew up a contract to cover her mortgage and kid's education in exchange of a piece of her estate plus slowly easing my way into becoming her financial go to person and asset manager. A bargain, seriously, and I've passed it through enough lawyers to know my fancy little mortgage note will make me very very happy in a few years. Leveraging my mentorship skills to work my way into society because the way to anyone's heart is their children. Its free on paper but is it really? These are the next CEOs and I'm building my space this early. Leveraging my relationships for more relationships. Opportunities are not given they are created. 

THIS. ESPECIALLY THIS - having a value system. Knowing what is important to me and what isn't. Being a part of high society is NOT important to me so why would i buy a gala ticket the same price as my rent? Buying brands to keep up a rich girl aesthetic? Winters in Gstaad although I despise snow? Being part of high society isn't something I value at all so I don't play social games I'll just go home. Yes I'll maintain my relationships but everyone that is everyone knows it is not a race I fancy (Which, weirdly enough, has made it very easy for me to navigate it). Like I said, fancy things are not important to me so apart from an Aston Martin I don't care about the price I care about the quality. I will be at a thrift store I really don't mind. My peace is very important to me so I'll pick the fancy overpriced library fees over other libraries and I will pay a ridiculous amount in rent for an apartment in the peaceful part of town and I will splurge on a fancy cafe because I know the price range itself buys me peace. Ramit Sethi (In his book I Will Teach You To Be Rich) gives this as the core point of getting wealthy, knowing your value system. What is important to you? What isn't? If you're not for something you're for everything. 

Minimizing responsibilities. I don't have kids and I don't intend to. I don't stupidly commit to things without thinking real real hard about them. I didn't buy things that require me to keep up with paperwork, I don't take on things I need to track. My greatest responsibility in life is my three cats. 

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

Vivienne. I hate people who rise up in the ranks and then act like they're too good for anyone else. Dorian was born into that dandy fop life. My autistic ass truly, truly, very much truly truly truly truly truly doesn't care if she--or anyone else--needs to be a snob in order to protect your ass from being fucked over by other nobles. I don't caaaaaaaare because it's all bullshit. You can be kind and absolutely ruthless in politics. Dorian is away from home and is playing up the posh foreign Tevinter from out of town because he knows he's not trusted. Despite making fun of Solas, he still is genuinely interested in what Solas has to say about ancient elves, spirits, and magic and the Fade. Dorian even APOLOGIZES to Solas. Plus he's actively funny and frequently shows a sweet and sensitive side so it makes up for his arrogance. I'm not a fan of "ouji"/"oujo" characters (characters that act like princes/princesses). I really have no time, patience, or energy to "get to know" characters that put on that icy front "to protect themselves because it's a cruel world and I had to scrape myself to the top and now I'm here and can enjoy being a Boss Bitch". I have no time for it. No time. Like don't get me wrong, her perspective on mages and Circles is a fantastic addition to the conversation, but who she is as a person? Don't like her. She's pretty, her outfit and silhouette kick ass, but that personality? Dog shit. No I don't care that she has a dying husband and you see that glimmer of sentiment at the last second. No I don't care that her hatred of Cole goes from 100% to 95%. No I don't care that in Trespasser she and Dorian are the ones who are like "Shit we need to do some research to help this Mark from going nuts and hurting them". It's not enough to make me *like* her. After the first two times playing the game, I just straight up don't recruit her.

favorite dragon age companion - BORING

tell me your LEAST FAVORITE dragon age companion

[hottiesforhockey]

ho, ho, hoe ⎜m.barzal

🎄pairings: mat barzal x afab!reader 🎄genre: romance ⎜christmas special ⎜smut ⎜friends to lovers⎜ 🎄warnings: mat is in love and not great at hiding it ⎜alcohol consumption ⎜ drunk sex ⎜missionary ⎜p in v⎜pretty vanilla overall ⎜ marking/hickeys⎜ just a dude in love ⎜awkward love confessions ⎜very minimal smut tbh ⎜ 🎄synopsis: an accidental christmas hook up, becomes so much more when your hoe of a best friend catches feelings. 🎄word count: 5.2k 🎄authors note:  this is my first of several christmas fics - there will not be a part 2 but I hope you all enjoy!! christmas fic list

(unedited)

“Come on, you promised,” Mat said, his voice teasing as he nudged you out of the car. “It’s one party. You’ll survive.”

You glared at him, tightening your coat against the icy December air. “You ambushed me. I never said yes.”

“Details.” His smirk deepened, and you hated how easily it chipped away at your resolve. “Besides, you’ve been sulking at home for two weeks. Consider this an intervention. No one should be this much of a Grinch in December.”

It was impossible to argue with Mat Barzal. You’d learned that years ago. He had a way of wrapping his words in charm and layering them with just enough humour to get his way. It didn’t help that his ridiculous good looks made you forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

Mat was your best friend—the kind of friend who’d been there through every bad breakup, every celebration, every boring Tuesday night when all you needed was a movie marathon and pizza. He was also, as you liked to call him, a professional-grade hoe. Always flirting, always texting someone new, always shamelessly charming his way into trouble.

So, of course, it was Mat who had dragged you to this Christmas party. And of course, he’d conveniently forgotten to mention that the guest list included a suspicious number of his teammates, their dates, and not many people you actually knew.

You tugged your itchy sweater down and shot him a glare. “If this is your idea of a fun Friday night, I’m starting to question our friendship.”

“You’ll thank me later.” He slung an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the door. “Trust me, you’re gonna have a great time.”

What Mat didn’t say—and wouldn’t dare admit—was that he’d spent weeks working up the nerve to do this. To spend more time with you outside the cozy bubble of friendship. To finally figure out if the feelings he’d been burying for years were one-sided or if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.

But Mat was a coward when it came to you. A hoe, sure. But only because it was easier to flirt with strangers than risk what you had.

Inside, the party was in full swing. Twinkling lights strung across the room, the faint scent of pine and cider in the air, and a playlist that was just loud enough to drown out awkward small talk.

Mat stayed close, his hand brushing yours as you made your way through the crowd. He didn’t miss the way you wrinkled your nose at the chaos, and his grin softened. “Alright, Scrooge. Let’s get you a drink.”

You let him pull you toward the kitchen, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on dragging me out like this. Don’t you have ten other girls you could be charming right now?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, so brief you almost missed it. “Maybe I like spending time with you.”

The words hung between you, light but heavy, before he quickly added, “Besides, no one else would put up with your terrible attitude about Christmas.” You laughed, and Mat felt the tension ease, though the knot in his chest didn’t loosen. 

One day, he thought. 

One day he’d tell you the truth.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, the hum of conversation and Christmas music muffled by the thick walls. Mat handed you a cup of something that smelled strongly of peppermint schnapps and took a long sip of his own.

“This is terrible,” you said after a cautious taste, wrinkling your nose.

Mat grinned. “It’s festive.”

“It tastes like someone melted a candy cane into rubbing alcohol.”

“Exactly.” He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Happy holidays.”

You clinked cups with him, rolling your eyes. Typical Mat—always the life of the party, always ready with a sarcastic comment or a sly grin to keep you on your toes. You couldn’t help but smile as he leaned back against the counter, his dark hair slightly messy and his cheeks already flushed from the heat of the room.

“So,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “Having fun yet?”

“I’ll let you know when it starts.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you couldn’t help but join in. It was easy to relax around Mat, even in a setting where you felt like a complete outsider.

As the night wore on, the two of you lingered in the kitchen, your drinks steadily disappearing. Mat’s stories became a little louder, his laugh a little freer, and you felt yourself loosening up too.

“Remember that time we tried to make cookies in my apartment?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.

“How could I forget?” You grinned, leaning against the counter beside him. “You set the oven on fire.”

“It wasn’t a fire,” he protested, gesturing with his cup. “It was a… controlled open flame.”

“Your neighbours didn’t think so.”

“Yeah, well, they hated me anyway.” Mat chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But you stayed. Even when I ruined the cookies.”

“You had alcohol,” you said simply, and he laughed again, shaking his head.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re always there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, but before you could respond, he downed the rest of his drink and changed the subject.

“Okay, real talk,” he said, setting his empty cup on the counter. “What’s your deal with Christmas? Why do you hate it so much?”

“I don’t hate it,” you said defensively. “I just think it’s… overrated.”

“Overrated?” He looked at you like you’d just insulted his entire family. “You’re breaking my heart over here.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s fine. It’s just not my thing.”

“Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong,” he said, his grin lopsided. “You should let me show you how it’s done.”

“And how’s that?”

“For starters…” He reached over, tugging gently at the sleeve of your overused christmas sweater. “This thing has got to go. You look like a rejected elf.”

“Excuse me?” You stared at him, mock-offended, and he burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding! Mostly.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You’re the only person I know who can make something that ugly look good.”

The comment sent a flutter through your chest, but you brushed it off as just another one of Mat’s usual flirtatious remarks. He was always saying things like that—half-joking, half-serious—and you’d learned not to read too much into them.

Still, as the drinks kept flowing and the night wore on, Mat’s comments started to feel… different. Softer. More pointed.

“You know,” he said at one point, “sometimes I think you don’t see yourself the way everyone else does.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on his cup. “Just that you’re… you know. Amazing. Like, actually amazing. And you don’t even realise it.”

You laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Okay, you’re definitely drunk.”

“Tipsy, maybe,” he admitted, a crooked grin on his face. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Before you could press him further, someone burst into the kitchen, dragging Mat into a conversation about hockey and leaving you standing there, your mind buzzing as much from his words as from the alcohol.

As the night wound down, you found yourself back where you started—leaning against the counter, your cup nearly empty, with Mat by your side. The party had thinned out, voices from the living room fading into a low hum. 

He was quieter now, his usual spark mellowed by the weight of the night and whatever thoughts had been lingering behind his lopsided smile.

“You’re staring,” you teased, breaking the silence.

“Am I?” His lips quirked up, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe I’ve just got a lot to think about.”

“You need a brain for that” You hoped your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

He hesitated, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the countertop. “Like how you’re still here,” he said finally. “When you could’ve bailed hours ago. But you didn’t.”

“Maybe I’m a sucker for bad holiday parties,” you joked, but the warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten.

“Or maybe,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “you like spending time with me as much as I like spending time with you.”

It was the kind of thing he’d say all the time, casual and easy, except now there was something behind it. Something that made the air between you feel heavier. Charged.

Maybe it was the alcohol? 

Or maybe it was something you had been feeling all night - a shift. 

“Mat,” you began, but the words caught in your throat when his hand brushed against yours, tentative and testing.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “And I will.”

You didn’t. 

You couldn’t.

 Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. It wasn’t careful or calculated—just instinct, like you’d been waiting for this moment longer than you cared to admit.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and for once, the rest of the world didn’t matter. Not the bad music, not the overplayed holiday cheer, not even the fact that anyone could walk in at any second.

“Guess the party’s starting now,” he said breathlessly when you finally broke apart, his forehead resting against yours.

“Shut up,” you muttered, laughing as you pulled him back in.

Mat’s laugh rumbled softly against your lips before his hands shifted at your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss slowed, turning into something softer, sweeter, but no less intense. His fingers traced light patterns along the curve of your back, and you found yourself melting into his touch, the rest of the room falling away entirely.

When the sound of voices drifted closer—someone coming down the hallway, loud and unsteady—you both broke apart, the spell momentarily shattered. Mat took a step back, his eyes lingering on yours, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

“Guess we’ve got an audience incoming,” he said, nodding toward the approaching voices.

“Probably shouldn’t give them a show,” you replied, your cheeks burning. Your hands dropping to straighten out your sweater, your cheeks burning a bright red as you turn away from your friend - taking a few sobering breaths. You turn back to Mat slowly, your eyebrows lifting as you find him already staring at your, his cheeks burning as much as yours. 

“I don’t think I’m finished with tonight.” He says slowly - adding, “but I’m definitely done with this party.” His Adams apple bobbing as he watches your mind turn a hundred miles an hour. 

“Oh, well there’s a bar down the street thats usually open late.” You note, Mat’s brows furrowing as he shakes his head. 

“That’s not—,” Mat lets out a soft sigh, his smile soft on his face as he spits out, “I’m trying to ask you to come home with me.” 

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric, like a string pulled taut. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly, or if the adrenaline coursing through your veins was playing tricks on you.

“Home,” you repeated slowly, testing the word on your tongue. Your voice came out softer than you intended, barely audible over the distant thrum of the party.

Mat nodded, his gaze steady but vulnerable, like he was bracing himself for the answer. “Yeah. With me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat reverberating in your ears. The room around you blurred—the noise, the decorations, the faint smell of spiked cider—and all you could focus on was the way his thumb brushed against his palm, the slight twitch of his jaw as he waited.

This wasn’t like him. Mat, the always-casual, too-cool-to-be-flustered Mat, was standing in front of you looking like his world might tilt depending on your response.

You took a breath, your pulse skipping as you leaned in just enough that your words were for him alone. “Okay,” you whispered, the weight of the decision melting into something exhilarating as you saw his grin break through.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice quieter now, carrying an edge of disbelief, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah.”

His hand found yours again, this time with more certainty, fingers lacing through yours as he gave a gentle tug. “Let’s get out of here before someone stops us.”

You followed without hesitation, weaving through the scattered crowd, ignoring the knowing glances and side comments. The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, sharp and refreshing compared to the stuffy warmth of the party. Mat didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

And as he led you down the street, your hand still in his, you felt something settle in you, a kind of rightness you hadn’t expected and couldn’t deny.

The walk to Mat's place was quiet but charged, every step a wordless conversation. The city hummed around you—car engines purring in the distance, the occasional laughter spilling from a bar’s open door—but it all felt like background noise. The real energy was in the small, subtle touches: the way his fingers tightened around yours when your hands brushed, or the way he glanced at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

When you reached his building, Mat paused at the door, his free hand fishing out his keys. He hesitated, looking at you with a crooked smile, his breath visible in the cool air. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, but there was an edge of seriousness in his tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart skipped. “Mat, if you don’t open that door in the next five seconds…”

His laugh was soft, barely louder than the jingle of the keys as he unlocked the door. “Alright, alright,” he said, pushing it open and holding it for you. “Come on in.”

The warmth of the lobby hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The building smelled faintly of pine—probably some festive candle someone had left at the front desk—and you followed him to the elevator, the silence between you comfortable now.

Inside the elevator, the closeness felt different. More intimate. The quiet hum of the machinery filled the space, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat. You caught Mat glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Instead, his thumb resumed its soft pattern against your hand, grounding you.

When the doors slid open, Mat led you down the hallway to his apartment. The tension built with each step, your stomach doing little flips as you reached his door. He unlocked it smoothly, gesturing for you to step inside first.

His place was exactly what you’d imagined—warm, lived-in, and distinctly him. The couch had a throw blanket draped messily over one arm, and a few mismatched mugs were scattered on the coffee table. String lights twinkled softly along the windows, their golden glow casting cozy shadows across the room.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you.

“It’s not messy,” you replied, taking it all in. It was charming, actually, and it felt... safe. “It’s nice.”

Mat exhaled a laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing again. He reached out tentatively, his hand brushing your arm before sliding down to your hand.

“Still sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something vulnerable.

You nodded, your fingers curling around his. “Still sure.”

That was all he needed. Mat pulled you in gently, his other hand finding your waist as his lips met yours. This time, there was no hesitation—no second-guessing. It was slower than before, but somehow even more consuming, like he was trying to memorise the feel of you, the way you fit against him.

One of mats hands reach up, tugging slowly on your hair scrunchie pulling it from the bun, letting your hair fall loose, his fingers playing with the strands as he leads you to his bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours as your arms loop around his neck. Mat’s lips make his way down your neck - pressing soft kisses as he tugs on the hem of your sweater, his lips only leaving your skin as he pulls the thick fabric over your head, his eyes immediately dropping down to your bra. 

“I’m about to fucking combust.” Mat groans, the two of you falling onto his mattress, your head buried among the pillows as Mat sits up on his knees, taking in the sight of you as he rips his own soft hoodie over his head, his hands reaching out for the button on your jeans. 

“God, you’re stunning.” Mat coos, as he slides your jeans down your legs, throwing them off to the side as he smoothes his hands down your body, his hands stopping at your knees as he pushes them apart, his body slotting slowly between them as he leans down to reattach his lips to your jaw - sucking harshly against the soft skin, a soft whine escaping you the blood rushing to the surface as an obvious bruise starts to form. 

“Perfect.” He whispers, against your neck as he picks a new spot and sucks again. 

“Mat.” You hiss, as his hand slowly dips in the waistband of your underwear, gently teasing your clit, his teeth skimming the skin on your neck as he pulls away. “If you don’t put your dick in me right now I swear to god.” You continue, your nails digging into his shoulders as he dips an experimental finger inside of you. 

Mat doesn’t need to be told twice as he makes quick work of his own pants, his cock painfully hard as it leaks with premium - his body leaning over your as he rifles through his bed side table. “Wrap it before you tap it.” He jokes, your hands pulling your own underwear down your legs, throwing them off to the side as you take in Mat. 

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You sigh, but your smile betrays your serious tone. You always knew the hockey player had a good body - his fitness levels beyond the average person, but seeing his stone cut figure was about to make you drool - your hands reaching out for him as he rolls the condom on his dick. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” He whispers as he crawls back on top of you, his body slipping perfectly between your legs, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your cheek as he lines himself up. His head dropping into the crook of your neck as he pushes in, his movements slow and purposeful as he lets you adjust with each inch. “Is this okay?” He whispers into your hair, his hips moving excruciatingly slow as he pumps himself in and out. 

He smiles as you nod, your lip trapped between your teeth as you let out a soft whimper, his hands placed on either side of your head as his movements speed up a little. “My pretty little pillow princess.” Mat coos, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as the sound of skin on skin fills the room. 

“Fuck Mat.” You hiss as his pelvis brushes against yours, your cunt clenching around him - his hips stuttering as he lets out a low groan. 

“I’m close.” He hisses, your head nodding in agreement as your nails drag up his back tangling in soft hair, tugging lightly. 

“I need more.” You breath out, Mat eye brows furrowing as he lifts himself up slightly,  lifting a hand off the mattress, his fingers dipping between your body as he teases your clit softly. 

“Shit.” He grunt as you squeeze around him again, his orgasm being pulled from him as he bottoms out inside of you, his fingers still working on your clit until he feels you clench tighter around him, a long whine escaping you as you cum. Mat’s body falls against yours, the two of your breathing heavily as your fingers continue to scrape against his scalp, a please sigh leaving him as his body melts on top of yours. 

“Mat, I need to go to the bathroom.” You mumble, your eyes almost forcing themself closed as the heat radiating from your best friend tries to lull you to sleep. Mat lets out a grunt, lifting himself up just enough to capture your lips with his, his mouth spreading into a wide grin as he rolls off of you, discarding the condom as he lies on his back. 

“There should be your favourite stuff under the counter if you need it.” He says softly, his eyes already closing, “Come back to me quickly.” He adds, his arm thrown over his eye as his breathing evens out. 

You watch him for a few moments before dashing into his bathroom, facing the mirror as you take in your nest of hair and your flushed cheeks. “What the fuck did I do?” You sneer at your reflection, the bright red bruises on your neck sticking out like a sore thumb. You turn on the tap, using the cold water against your face before cleaning yourself up as quickly as possible, your frown deepening as you step out of the bathroom, Mat fast asleep in the bed, his body turned towards the empty space besides him. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you make your way over to the bed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against his temple before pulling your clothes back on as escaping your best friends house. 

+

+

Three days passed quickly - your phone constantly dinging with a barrage of messages from Mat. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Your phone sat face down on the counter, Mat's unread messages and missed calls an ever-growing weight on your chest. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to face him after what had happened.

Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel his hands on you, his lips against yours. The memory of his soft laugh, the way he had asked you to come back to him—it all made your heart ache. 

You fucked your best friend. 

And then you ditched. 

What if this ruined everything? 

What if he regretted it? 

You finally pick up your phone, glaring down at the messages waiting for you;

Matty ♥️: Hey, just wanted to check in, is everything okay? 

Matty ♥️:  I know this might’ve made things awkward but maybe we should meet up and talk? 

Matty ♥️:  I know you’re reading these, please answer me. 

Matty ♥️:  I miss you. 

Fuck. 

+

+

Mat was - rightfully - going out of his mind.

 He hadn’t heard a word from you—no texts, no calls. You were ignoring him, and it was eating him alive. Every time his phone buzzed, he scrambled for it, only to find some pointless notification or a message from someone who wasn’t you.

He couldn't get the memory of your touch, your laugh, or the way you had whispered that quiet "I'm sorry" as you left his place. That had stuck with him, playing over and over in his head. 

What were you sorry for? 

Leaving? 

Crossing the line between friends? 

Or something more?

Matty ♥️: I miss you. 

His most recent text. He’d sent it hours ago. 

No response. 

Again.

“God, what did I do?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. You had been his best friend for years. He knew you inside out—or at least, he thought he did. But now, it was like there was this wall between you, and he hated it.

Mat stared at his phone, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. His apartment felt suffocating, every quiet moment filled with the phantom echoes of your laughter or the soft murmur of your voice. He could still see you everywhere—in the hoodie you had borrowed and never returned, in the stupid inside jokes you’d scribbled on his fridge, in the way his couch smelled faintly like your perfume.

The silence was driving him insane.

He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. He didn’t even hesitate as he shoved his keys into his pocket and stepped out the door.

The drive to your place was short but felt agonisingly long. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his mind racing with every possibility. 

What if you didn’t want to see him? 

What if this was it? 

What if you hated him for what happened?

But he couldn’t sit around wondering anymore. 

He needed to see you, to talk to you, to fix this—whatever this was now.

When he finally pulled up outside your building, the glow of your apartment light felt like both a taunt and a lifeline. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

What was he even going to say? Hey, sorry I ruined everything, but also, I think I might love you? That sounded pathetic, even in his head.

But before he could second-guess himself, he was out of the car and heading toward your door. His knuckles rapped against the wood before he even realised what he was doing.

Inside, you froze. The sound of his knock sent a jolt of electricity through you. You hadn’t expected him to come here—not after how you had ghosted him. Your stomach twisted with guilt and something you couldn’t quite name.

“Hey, it’s me,” his voice came through the door, quieter than you’d ever heard him sound. “I—I know I should’ve waited for you to reach out, but... I can’t. I need to talk to you.” Your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren’t home, to let the silence stretch on. But the other part—the part that missed him so much it hurt—had already pulled you to the door.

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “Mat...” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said quickly, his words spilling out like a flood. “But please—just tell me what’s going on. I’m going crazy over here.”

You bit your lip, a lump rising in your throat. The wall you’d been trying so hard to build was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to stop it. Slowly, you unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see him standing there, his expression a mix of hope and heartbreak.

The sight of him made your chest tighten. “Mat...” you said again, your voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, taking a small step closer. “For whatever I did, for whatever I said that made you leave. But you—you can’t just disappear on me like this. I need to know if we’re okay.”

And there it was. The question you had been avoiding. The answer you weren’t sure you even had.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“Are we?” you asked softly, your voice breaking on the words.

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “But I want us to be.”

And just like that, the ache in your chest spilled over, and the tears you’d been holding back finally came.

Mat’s expression softened immediately at the sight of your tears. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back, unsure if you’d let him. Instead, he just stood there, the weight of your silence filling the small space between you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the emotion. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to...” You trailed off, shaking your head as more tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer, his hesitation melting away. “You don’t have to apologise. I just—I’ve been losing my mind not knowing what you’re thinking. If I pushed you too far, if I—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tears. “It’s not you, Mat. It’s me. I... what if we made the wrong choice?”

That stopped him. His brows knit together as he studied you, his confusion clear. 

You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “What if we ruined everything? What if things will never go back to how they were before? You’re my best friend, Mat, and I don’t—” Your voice broke again, and you bit your lip hard, willing yourself to keep it together.

His eyes widened slightly, something soft and vulnerable flickering across his face. “You think I don’t feel the same way?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words barely audible. “I don’t know what to think. I just know I can’t lose you.”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said finally, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But, God, you’ve got to stop running away from me. From this.”

“I don’t know how,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Then talk to me.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you, his hands finding yours with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He held them tightly, grounding you in the moment.

“I don’t regret what happened,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Not for a second. And if you think for one minute that I’d let that ruin what we have, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the fear and uncertainty that had been suffocating you. You searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but all you found was sincerity.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering. “But I’m not scared of ruining what we had because what if I want something more?” He pauses taking in a deep breath, “What if I want you?” 

The tears came faster now, but they felt different—lighter, freer. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you did the only thing that felt right.

You stepped closer, your hands slipping from his to cup his face, and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic like the first time. It was slow and tender, filled with everything you hadn’t been able to put into words.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. “Don’t run away again,” he whispered, his voice shaky, “Please.” 

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice steady this time. “I won’t.”

[nebelihood]

Yo ya no les creo nada

I HAVEN'T FINISHED WATCHING THE SEASON- but I wanted to practice sort of s disney style trying to keep the features as practice? didn't work out that much (specially Guillermo- sorry buddie. Better luck next time) I FEEL LIKE I DRAW NANDOR PRETTIER AAHAHA- LIKE instead of masculine as he is, I make him like a disney princess or something L (maybe I'm the only one who sees that) ANYWAY-

SPOILERS AHEAD

arghhh I have no faith in the ship anymore but we'll see. I hate/love the little crumbs they leave cause I'm completely lost as in to what I should believe. I think there are some good signs (Like Nandor mourning Guillermo's absene (although Guillermo literally leaving some steps away from their house), other members of the house (Nadja) acknowledging Guillermo is a soft spot for Nandor, Nandor respecting Guillermo's boundaries. BIG ONE TO ME WAS- how they could have f+cked everything up on the third episode and forced Guillermo into going just they way he was before.THIS REALLY TOOK ME BY SURPRISE. IT WOULDN'T HAVE BOTHERED ME- I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT WAS HILARIOUS but definitely would have ruined their relationship big time when Guillermo finally remembered everything in the future. For Nandor a character who is very... egotiscial? Having a person who is somewhat (actually) meaninful to him (even if he has never brought himself to admit it with confidence) a person who has lost respect for him- to actually like him back again- to admire him and compliment him just like the first time they met. I bet the first time they met he couldn't careless for Guillermo's little sad back story and his high regard for vampires and his compliments. I bet he would have shut him off as soon as possible. But now Guillermo is a person he esteems and has grown somewhat interested in him and his well-being. I bet he craves now to be part of his world. But now he esteems him enough to also be respectful (somewha,,,,) to his boundries. And for Nandor- I feel like that's such a big step x'000 (Anyways I'm in the 4th episode so I might be wrong aaaa but these where my thoughts) Besides- what I love about wwdits it's their dumb plot-twist and how they barely take anything too seriously so we'll see.

I have no hope for them anymore. I guess I wouldn't hate it if they ended up as friends or even if their paths got separated. Enough things have happened- maybe they were never meant to be (AAARGHHH oh well)

[tracklessreason]

Hi. It's me again.

WHERE THE FRICK IS BUMBLEBEE?! Sorry, let me calm down and retry.

Thank you for answering my last ask, I can't help but notice how no one knows where Bee's ghost is. And Megatron is the one looking into the Matrix... Is he haunting Megatron? Trying to stop him from doing it? Helping him?

Is Optimus's ghost following Ratchet around like a sad puppy?

Also just the pairings- Jazz with Megatronus? THat sounds... like fun.

Do the primes miss the other Primes and ask their host if they can check on the other bots that got shrapeneled? Maybe one of them asks if they can find a way to talk with the others... or maybe they can talk trough the hosts... maybe... (ah ah possessed arc)

(PS I really vibe with Hive's whole deal, he is very cool :D and I'm devastated that I'm the one that discovered how he explodes)

Hug hug!

Hi again!!! Don't worry, Bee is still here!

His spirit is just...struggling. He's weak at first, flickering like a dying light bulb. He hasn't left the fractured core of the Matrix still in his corpse, but his soul signature is so weak no one can find him. He's just sort of trapped there for a while, in the burnt out room he died in. Until Megatron of course.

Megatron breaks into the autobot base, walks past every sleeping mech he could easily have snuffed, and steals the Matrix core, and by unintentional extension, steals Bumblebee. Now at first, Bee is rightfully upset. He hates being at the gloomy decepticon base, he hates Megatron for taking his voice, he's just mad. Time passes as Megatron tinkers with the core, and Bee regains strength enough to....throw things???

It shouldn't be possible. Somehow this unstable remnant of the Matrix doesn't contain him, but merely houses him, and as he grows stronger, he can appear as an apparition to Megatron. He uses it almost solely to hinder him. With no voice (even ghost Bee gets no respite) all he can really do is mess up Megatron's workspace and insult him through pantomime. Really he doesn't understand why Megatron puts up with it, but aside from the occasional fit of rage at his antics, the decepticon leader ignores him as much as possible and puts his all into trying to restore the Matrix.

Before long he starts having one sided conversations with Bumblebee. Its mostly complaints at first, and insults towards him and the autobots and whatever else goes wrong in his life outside of this little workshop Bee cant leave. It soon gives way to more private matters; intentionally or not, Megatron is revealing his very convoluted, very mixed feelings about Optimus Prime.

The war has gone on too long, why couldn't that idiot just see things from his perspective, he deserved to die, he will be brought back, how could his oldest friend just leave him like this...

To Bee it sounds...exactly like how Optimus felt about Megatron, just drowned in molten anger issues. Against his self preservation instinct, Bee decides to work towards putting this whole mess to bed. Nothing better to do.

With what limited knowledge and communication he has, he does his best to try and help Megatron fix the Matrix. They have spats still, and plenty of set backs, but things smooth over when Megatron (begrudgingly) admits to feelings of regret over taking Bee's voice. As an olive branch, Bee explains something to Megatron that he's been dying to know: how Optimus died.

Things sour fast. Megatron is determined to murder Starscream, Bee is frustratedly trying to explain that if he does so, this little partnership of convenience is over, and he will ensure that the Matrix is never restored. The end of the war relies almost solely on Megatron reeling in his damn anger, and Bee doesnt intend to allow any slip ups. He has no idea how this will end when Megatron leaves the workshop that night.

On the other side of things, the Primes are having a real...weird time?? The ones without hosts can communicate with each other, but the other four are basically cut off from all but their hosts. They don't have the ability to take control anymore, and even if they did, their hosts are nowhere near as easy to possess, nor as willing, as Hive Prime was. Ratchet especially has threatened to tear the Matrix metal from his frame and grind it to dust if Prima so much as thinks about trying it. The other three hosts are similarly put off.

Once again the Primes are relegated to giving advice, but it's not advice anyone seems to want, and yeah, it's mostly because of the wild pairings. Megatronus is constantly clutching his pearls over Jazz's laid-back attitude and deliberate ignorance of his wishes. Prima's calm rationality does little to temper Ratchet's snappy demeanor and only really gets on his nerves (how can you be so calm after what you all did?). Ironhide straight up refuses to acknowledge Quintus. Drift is probably the only one feeling alright with all this. Alpha Trion is generally reasonable, and isn't interested in having control over Drift's form, nor was he interested in it with Hive, so they just vibe like college roommates.

It's uncomfortable, but the Primes are used to sharing space. The worst part is actually sharing it with fewer mechs than usual. The Primes all miss each other to varying degrees, but for the most part are either too egotistical to admit it, or think it improper to mention.

Of course, grand prize for worst ghost time currently goes to Optimus. Dying, watching Bee suffer, feeling his friend's life force extinguish...

He might as well be a husk right now, full on silent treatment is all he's capable of at the moment. The other Primes know better than to try and speak with him. This is their doing to begin with, the channeling of their energy that strained Bee so heavily. Optimus follows the elected council around during the days, but at night he sits outside the room where Hive's body rests. He was there the night that Megatron broke in.

It takes immense effort to travel far enough out from the base to go see Megatron, and he needs several cycles to recover after every attempt, but he keeps doing it, knowing he could fade away permanently. When he gets there, he's too weak for Bee or Megatron to detect him. But he can hear their talks. He misses them both more than words can say.

(Sorry the response is so long, lol. This ask really got the gears turning in my head. I hope at least that makes up for being the one to find out that Ending 3 Hive dies bloody. I'm really flattered to hear you like him! For me that's quite high praise coming from you. Hug hug!)

[submattenthusiast]

thankful bf!matt

the dirty led nail light, the multiple bottles of nail polishes, and the small brushes used for designs decorated your crowded desk. the strong fumes of the opened bottles of nail polish filled the room. your brows furrowed in concentration and your tongue rested on your bottom lip as you focused on perfecting the spiderweb on his pinky nail. you kept a firm grip on the brush and the design was coming out perfectly, but matt kept fidgeting "keep still matt, i'm almost done" you ordered, not batting him an eye.

"thank you princess, i love em' " matt smiled, observing his fresh manicure. you mumbled a mhm before focusing on cleaning the mess that was made in the hours of painting. he continued to gush about his nails while you cleaned, only helping with the cleaning once asked. "i'm never doing an intricate design like that again, i'm so sore" you sigh exhaustedly, plopping down on the couch. following your movements ,he rested his head on your shoulder as you complained. hair tickling your neck and cheeks. "but y'did so good" he praises, caressing you gently.

"i really did" you beam, watching his fingers dance on your body. you hated to be so cliché but his hands had you feeling some type of way. the polish only enhanced the feelings, the slim, slender fingers with the short finely filed nails — just so incredibly sexy. "let me make it up to you?" he asked but more like told you. an eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. you had no idea what he meant by that, a massage, a treat?, what could he possibly give you to fix the soreness flowing through your hands. "i'm listening... go on"

the sweetness of the kisses on your hands and the whispered praise made you forget all about the fingers that were sliding into your sweatpants. soft mumbles of thank you's left his mouth distractingly as the pads of his fingers massaged the wet spot on your thin panties. "didn't even know y' wanted this, i just wanted to feel you" he whines, "gna look s'pretty stuffed with my fingers sweets" he groaned, slipping the fabric to the side.

his digits run through your sticky folds slowly, taking in the feeling and coating his fingers with your arousal; the arousal that built up from his very nice looking hands. "so wet f'me". his dirty words had you clenching around nothing, the sultriness and the hint of need that peaked in his voice had you hot and bothered. "don't tease" you sigh, needing more than just clitoral stimulation. feeling enough wetness on his fingers and with your need ringing in his ears — he circled your tight hole in warning before sliding his index finger inside. your walls sucked him in instantly, trapping his slim finger with ease.

him having long fingers was a blessing in disguise. he was reaching spots you couldn't even imagine, nor attempt to hit. adding a second finger had him hitting your sweet spot with ease. the way he curled his fingers at the perfect angle had you clenching a little too much. his two digits nearly reached your cervix with no effort. "so fucking good matt shit" you moan, a bit louder than intended. he continues to somehow multitask, still planting soft kisses on the hand closest to him while plunging his fingers into your wet gummy walls. " just the beginning sweet thing, i want you to feel as good as my nails look"

🔖 @luvs4matt @ariestrxsh

[citrus-writing]

Hello-hello

In your headcanons, Chrollo is very careful with reader, afraid to scare her away with some thoughtless actions or words. Especially when it comes to intimacy

But could something happen that would make Chrollo just take her by force?

Perhaps something made him very angry or upset, but that wasn’t fault of the reader herself?(He’s a leader of the Troupe after all…)

Will Chrollo blame himself the next day?

Spoilers for the yorknew and succession war arcs! 

Warnings: nsfw, non-con 

------------------------------------

I imagine there are a few things that could upset Chrollo so deeply he acts impulsively, and when it comes to his darling, the impulse he’s constantly holding himself back from is taking them by force. Because he wants them so badly, and normally he has a great deal of self control, but when his grip on his emotions start to slip, so does his control over his more innate desires when it comes to you.

The deaths of his fellow troupe members hit him hard, harder than he’d like to admit, and as much as he tried to push the despair from his mind, it left him reeling. How someone could be there one moment and then gone the next- of course he’d always know this, but to lose so many so dear to him so fast has him desperate for something to ground him. 

And of course, it’s you. You’re all that he needs, he knows this, he’s always known. Just to hold you close, smell the scent of your hair, feel your soft breath on his skin, listen to the soft beating of your heart. It’d be enough. It’d be more than enough. 

Chrollo wraps his arms around you tight, pulling your back against him as you lay together in his bed. It’s not uncommon to lay like this together, but you can tell something is wrong. His breathing is a little off, and his heartbeat is pounding. 

His hands trace little patterns on your skin, inching over your bare arms and across the fabric of your nightclothes. It’s not like him, to get so handsy with you. It’s so unlike him that you squirm a little, uncomfortable with the advances he’s making. 

“Chrollo-” you whisper, unsure what’s gotten into him and scared of what it could mean. 

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispers against the back of your neck, before pressing an open mouthed kiss against your skin. 

He’s been holding back for so long, wanting you for what seems like an eternity but never able to have you. But tonight he can't resist you, whatever it is that draws him to you is too strong and he cant stop himself from indulging in you. Surely you’ll hate him for this, surely all the progress he’s made will be lost, but he needs you- more than he’s ever needed anything. 

He pins you down beneath him, body caging yours against the bed, and before you can let out a noise of protest his lips are on yours. Gone is the way he normally kisses you; so soft, so sweet. 

The way he normally gently caresses and touches you is gone, replaced with this new side of him, hungry and desperate. 

It’s not that he’s rough with you- even now, he hates the idea of having to hurt you. But if you insist on making this difficult, he won't be able to hold back. But he’d much rather have you willing beneath him. Or, if not willing, then at the very least, not defiant. 

He kisses you again and again, his tongue sliding into your mouth when you try to gasp. His body presses up against yours, hips moving against yours in a desperate attempt for friction. This is what he needs- all of you. And soon enough he can wait no longer; pulling at your clothes to free your body to the night air, delighting in the sight of you finally, finally, bare to him after all this time. 

He knows he’ll hate himself tomorrow, he knows he’ll fall to his knees and beg you for forgiveness, plead for you to give him another chance. But with you beneath him like this, tomorrow seems so far away.

------------------------------

[revelboo]

I've never been so sucked into a Megatron fic as I have been by your Broken Arrow series. I'm really interested to see if y/n will break and how Megatron would handle it if they did! It's very exciting!

I do love playing with tension. 18+ mass displaced mech 🌶️

Broken Arrow Pt 12

TFP Megatron x Reader

• “Don’t,” you growl the word at him, shoving at his arm as he drags you back into him so he can curl around your much smaller form. Hating that you don’t hate this contact. Especially as he slowly wraps the length of your leash around his palm and vents against the back of your neck. Knowing you’re not getting away from him until he lets you and trying not to think about what you’d done with him or that you’d enjoyed it. Because nothing about this should be okay to you, but there’s still that part of you that had actually been scared for him when he’d been injured. That had warmed at his teasing and taunts despite yourself. That knew he could have hurt you so many times, but no matter what he says, those sharp claws are always so gentle like he’s afraid of breaking you. Despite biting you.

• Finally, you relax against him, your back to his front. Giving up after realizing he’s not letting go. Maybe biding your time hoping he’ll slip into recharge and turn you loose. Still not realizing that he’s never letting you go now. “We don’t need to be enemies,” he murmurs, servos sliding down over your hip and you grab his wrist when he slides lower to cup you. “As lovely as your anger is, I like the way you look out of control, too.” Stroking you, he feels your fingers tighten on him, but not even trying to pull his hand away. Enjoying his touch no matter how you balk at it, as you rock yourself against his palm. Wanting to hate him, but you can’t, can you?

• Those sharp denta brush the shell of your ear, nip at the lobe and those awful servos keep playing with you, lazily exploring. And when you shift against him more on your hip and lift your thigh, he immediately tunnels a servo inside you, mindful of those claws. Out of control? He has no idea. You’re still clinging to his wrist as he slowly fucks you with that servo, pressing your head back against him as you go taut. Hating when you begin rocking your hips against his hand, needing more friction and he chuckles against your hair. He’s still got your leash and you can feel that breathless pull that he’s bound you with when he’d forced your fingers into contact with his spark. But if he has your leash, you have his, too. He’s growling against you, servos petting as you slicken for him. You can feel his spike against your butt, pulsing and hot as a brand. As affected as you are. “More,” you whimper, straining against his hand and swearing when he pulls it away in response. Denying you. Teasing.

• Laughing at your frustration, he shifts your thigh up enough that he can find you and bury himself inside you, groaning against your neck at how tight you are like this, listening to your breathy little noise of pleasure. Feeling you grip his spike. “Patience,” he growls, lips brushing your cheek. “Isn’t this better than fighting me every step of the way?” Moving deliberately to rock himself slowly against you and stroking deep. Palm sliding up to rest against your chest, against the frantic beat of your heart.

• This is a new form of torture, thrusting almost lazily against you in no real hurry when you just want to reach that peak again. But his words twist through you, because you could submit and enjoy this. Enjoy him. Because even if he grumbles about it, he listens to you, seems to care about your opinion. Would it be so bad to surrender and sit by his side? Spend your nights in his berth and your days pulling at his leash, trying to curb his worst impulses? “Make me,” you whisper and his servos tighten on you as he snarls.

• Stubborn brat. Rolling you partially under him, he begins to move faster against you, driving deep again and again. Because that rebelliousness unravels his control. Make you? Those little noises of need you make spurring him on as he ruts against you. “You’re mine.” If it takes all night, he’s going to get that through your head. You come undone against him, crying out his name as you fist his spike in wet, silken heat. And he keeps moving against you until he’s sheathing himself deep to release inside you. Hips rocking to drag it out for both of you. “Say it.”

Previous

[gamercookies]

Giving thanks for..

Genre: smut, enemies to lovers.

Word count:2.8k+

Warnings: rough!ni-ki, shy!y/n, fingering “under the table”, worshipping, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, praising, throat-fucking, hate-fuck.  Note: I love making these stories idk why but they peak my interest so much!! I know it’s not thanksgiving yet but imma be busy on those days I’m off, but plz enjoy :3 and take care of urself 💕🙏🏼

You’ve been enemies for a really long time. Ni-ki, which you couldn't stand him, had been teasing and humiliating you throughout school. But then, out of the blue, he invited you to his family's Thanksgiving dinner. Sure, there would be the usual “I‘m grateful for…” moments, so you figured nothing too surprising would unfold, right?

Today you were just chilling at home alone while your parents were at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving dinner, you felt bored, alone. Of course you didn’t want to go because you didn’t feel like it. But once you finished an hour call with them, you stared up at the ceiling from the bed. 

You sigh in boredom, sitting back up from the bed. “What am I gonna do, I’m all alone.. I guess I can make dinner for myself and watch some Netflix or something.” Suddenly you receive a notification from your phone, you assume “oh! Maybe my parents sent a picture of themselves!” You check but your excited expression turns into shock and confusion.. it says: “Hey y/n, sorry to annoy you as always lol 😂, but anyways I was wondering if you’re interested in coming over to my house for thanksgiving I have no one to enjoy besides my parents.” 

“What?! Ni-ki.. he seriously invited you to his thanksgiving dinner, seriously?” You tell yourself blankly staring at the message for minutes. You roll your eyes and reply: 

“Fine. 😒Only because I also have nothing to do, fine I’ll come over. What time?” 

He types back: “Around 6PM, it will just be a normal thanksgiving, nothing out of the ordinary. 😊” 

… 

It’s 6PM and you’ve just arrived in front of his home, and you ring the doorbell. You stand there waiting for him or someone to open. You know you look stunning in that red dress, which perfectly highlights your curves without being overly short. Then Niki opens the door, “Hey y/n, come on in, I’ll introduce you to my parents.” As he gestured you to walk in. “Thank you.” You say, as he shuts the front door leading you to the dining table. You see a neatly organized dinning table, with a candle in the middle.  

Ni-ki clears this throat and speaks, “Mom, dad. This is y/n, a “friend” of mine I invited, I hope you guys don’t mind her.” His mom replies, “N-no we don’t mind! Hello, y/n. Please I don’t mind you inviting her over, please sit down and join us for dinner today.” You look at his mother and smile politely, as you take your seat. “Hello, Mrs. It’s nice to meet you, it’s kind enough of your son to invite me over, since my parents are at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving.” His father speaks behalf, “Oh no worries! That’s very nice of our son to do that, inviting someone like you over, you seem a very well polite girl so there’s no harm in that.” Ni-ki then sits down next to you, “Yeah, I felt like that’s a nice thing to do behalf that it’s thanksgiving, we should be kind to each other, right y/n?” As he says that sarcastically. 

You feel a bit nervous about meeting his parents, but you manage to smile and nod. “Of course, it's a good thing to invite friends over." You say softly, trying not to show how anxious you really feel. To pass the time waiting for the dinner his parents and especially you talk about how you’ve been, your parents, mostly about your life. But then his father asks, “Do you have a boyfriend yet, young lady?” 

You blush slightly, feeling a little embarrassed by the question. "Well, I haven't found anyone who really catches my interest yet," you admit shyly.

"Maybe one day soon though!" You add quickly, hoping to change the subject before things get too awkward. 

But it gets interrupted as soon as the food arrives. You smell all of the delicious aromas wafting from the dishes. "Wow... everything looks amazing!" You exclaim enthusiastically, trying to cover up your earlier blunder. “Who’s cutting the turkey today?” 

Niki looks around, his parents and you seem to be waiting for someone to cut into the turkey. He takes a deep breath and stands up. "I'll do it," he announces confidently. "After all, it's Thanksgiving.” With that said, he walks over to where the turkey is sitting and grabs a knife. He gives it one swift stroke, carving off a piece of meat before placing it onto a plate. You can’t help but deny the way he looks in that suit, the way he picks up that knife, it’s like you wanna touch him.

But you then take a bite of some turkey and gravy - it's even better than it smells! As you all savor the meal throughout the evening, saying what you’re grateful for, besides Niki.. and of course, remembering to keep dinner etiquette in mind, everything was smooth. But soon enough you feel ni-ki leaning against you, his hot breath in your ear. “You look damn good in this dress.. I can’t help but notice it so much.” You blush deeply at his compliment, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not used to receiving compliments like this, especially not from someone as attractive as him. “T-thanks.. I mean I have to look presentable to your parents..” After you finish your food, you place your fork down gently and lean back in your chair. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Was the food good, sweetie? I made it this morning.” His mother smiles softly at you. 

Before you could respond, you feel a hand sliding up and down your thigh making you gasp quietly. “What the..” you mutter to yourself, as Ni-ki continues doing that under the table. You try to play it cool despite losing focus on the conversation. 

"O-oh, your food was amazing!", you respond sincerely, doing your best to ignore Ni-ki’s wandering hand. "I've never had such delicious mashed potatoes before..." He then leans over you and whispers with a small smirk, “I didn’t invite you just for a normal thanksgiving, I also wanted something else.. to tease and make you feel humiliated in front of my parents.” But then, Ni-ki’s mother speaks trying to get your attention, “Sweetie? You okay..? I was asking you where do you plan to go for vacation next month with your parents?” Ni-ki then slides your panties aside and inserts 2 fingers inside you without warning.

“O-oh! I was thinking maybe Thailand-ah!” You say making you blush in embarrassment, “Sorry about that.. it’s just something accidentally hit me. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, doing your best to keep a neutral expression. 

“Thailand sounds lovely! It’s a wonderful place to travel.. when I was young..” she continues talking while you continue trying to hold your moans infront of them two. “Ni-ki.. stop that.. it’s embarrassing..” you whisper to him. “Come on~ your pussy deserves my fingers in you now, you make me crave you so much in that dress.” He says in a low, sultry voice. 

His mother notices the blush on your face and the discomfort in your voice, but assumes it's due to the heat of the room or perhaps nervousness from being in new surroundings.

"Oh dear, I apologize if we're making you uncomfortable. We just love sharing stories about our travels!", she says reassuringly. 

“N-no Mrs.. it’s not your fault it’s just it’s a bit hot right now.”, as you manage to choke out between stifled moans. Ni-Ki’s father then speaks, “We’ll clean up the mess, why don’t you show her your room.” 

Ni-Ki inserts a third finger, making you moan quietly. “Yes of course father, I’ll kindly show her my room.” And with that both of his parents head to the kitchen with the dirty plates, and utensils. You finally pull his hand away from your pussy, “What was that for Ni-ki!? You can’t just do that while I’m talking to them.. that’s embarrassing. I nearly came all over your hand.”  He winks, “Oh really? because I really wanted that pussy of yours.. I couldn’t resist.” “Now come on, let’s head to my room, shall we~?” He takes your hand to make you stand up so you can follow Ni-ki upstairs to his room. Once the door is closed behind you, he pins you against it.

"You know," he murmurs seductively, "Your little moans were music to my ears..." Before you can respond, he silences you with a passionate kiss. His tongue explores your mouth while his hands roam freely over your body. “I should worship your pussy.. eating you out, making you moan..~” 

You quickly responded blushing deep red. “N-no that’s a bad idea.. especially right now..” Hearing your protests, Ni-ki pulls away with a playful grin. "What's the fun in all this if we don't take risks?" He teases, pressing himself closer against you. “No im going home, I’m not doing your kinky ideas with you.”  Ni-ki seeing you attempt to leave, grabs your wrist tightly. "Running away so soon?" He chuckles darkly, pulling you back towards him. Without warning, he kisses you passionately once more. His other hand reaches down to cup your breast roughly through the fabric of your dress. 

“Mmph! F-fine I want it! But this is a one-time thing, we are still enemies.” You stumble to say, as he releases your wrist and moves to unzip your dress hastily. "Just remember..." he whispers into your ear, "This doesn't change anything between us..." And with that, he pushes you onto his bed and begins undressing you fully, and he kneels in front of you. “Let me worship your pussy.. I can tell it’s already wet from my fingers, naughty girl..” 

"F-fine! Go ahead," you finally relent, biting your lip nervously. “But only this once."  His tongue laps at your clit with expert precision, causing waves of pleasure to ripple through your body.

"Mmm...so tasty..." he murmurs against you before continuing his relentless assault on your sensitive nub. “Ah~! Fuck.. k-keep going..” you moan but you quickly cover your mouth making sure no one hears you. Ni-ki increases the pressure of his tongue on your clit. His hands grip your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he devours you and makes your legs tremble, "Oh God...I'm close!", you gasp out, writhing beneath him. Noticing your impending climax, Ni-ki slows his pace slightly, prolonging your torture. He looks up at you with a devilish grin.

"Not so fast, sweetheart..." he purrs, "I haven't finished yet." You whine desperately, “N-no please I’m close! I need to cum..”

"Oh, is that so?" he teases, trailing his tongue along your inner thigh. "That's the point isn't it?" he teases again, "To feel pleasure so intense that you can barely stand it?" “N-Niki!" you cry out, clenching the sheets beneath. "Please...don't tease me like this! I really need to cum.. come on.” Niki chuckles darkly, his eyes filled with mischief as he watches you squirm underneath him. He knew how to push your buttons, knew exactly what to say and do to get a rise out of you. “What's wrong, sweetness?" he purrs mockingly, "Can't handle a little teasing?" You whine again and looks at him with pleading eyes, “No! I mean yes! Just shut up and let me cum! You asshole! Please.. I need to cum so badly..!”

Niki laughs, his hot breath tickling your skin as he leans in closer. 

He takes a moment to savor the desperation lacing your words. "Fine," he concedes, sliding a finger inside of you. "But only because I want to see those pretty eyes roll back into your head." “Yes please..! I’m gonna.. fuck! Gonna..”, You quickly grab a pillow to cover your moans as you cum onto his face. Niki licks up every last drop of your sweet release, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. He pulls back slowly, standing up to look down at you with a satisfied smirk. “Good girl, I might just fuck you right now while we at it, how about you ride me?” 

"No way I’m not riding you! You’re an asshole!” As you stand up from his bed. “Plus your parents are washing dishes, we can’t just do that..they might hear us!” He smirks pushing you back onto the bed, “Oh come on.. we could make some noise, who cares about them..” He tries to persuade you. “You might like it when you’re handcuffed, I have them.” 

You roll your eyes and scoff at him, “Ugh.. whatever I’ll ride you while I’m handcuffed…” “Really?” Niki asks surprised, “Well alright then.” He goes to his drawer and takes out a pair of handcuffs. “Put these on.” “Alright.”, you say as you hold out your wrists for him to cuff you. Once he locks them, he smirks, “Fuck, you look sexy like this, handcuffed.. I can easily do anything to you.” He reaches down and unzips his pants, freeing his thick member. It throbs slightly as it bobs free from its confines.  "Here," he says, offering you his shaft. "Why don't you start by sucking on this?"

“Alright, I’ll please you..” You say as you lean down taking his cock in your mouth. You bob your head slowly licking his tip before sliding down further, taking half of his dick in your mouth. Without warning, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. His cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him. “Mmph!~Too big and deep.!” You manage to say while he doesn't stop though; instead, he continues to fuck your face ruthlessly.

You tease him back by saying, “I’ll pull my mouth out-” “No you won’t,” he says. “Or else I will kick you outta of my house and make sure you never return.” Then he forces his way inside your mouth again, his member hitting the back of your throat, forcing another round of gags from you. As he keeps fucking your throat, you slap his leg hard, trying to signal him to stop. Ignoring your weak attempt to resist, Niki continues to thrust into your mouth. He can feel the familiar tingling at the base of his spine, signaling his imminent release.

"That's it..." he groans, "I'm gonna cum..."

Before long, he explodes inside your mouth. His hot seed fills your mouth and spills onto your chin as he rides out his orgasm.  "There..." he pants, "That wasn't so bad was it? Now why don't you get those pretty legs of yours moving and ride me like a good girl." “O-okay..” You stutter out as you position yourself to sit on his cock despite being handcuffed. With a single thrust, he buries himself deep within you. 

"Fuck..." he groans, "So tight..." As he begins to move beneath you, bucking his hips upwards to meet each of your downward thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as they make love roughy. "Ride me baby," he growls, "Show me how much of an asshole you think I am." “Fuck.. you..! Ah~!” , you moan out quietly. “J-just don’t thrust up more..” “Oh, is that what you want?" He teases, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep things gentle for you." Despite his promise, he continues to thrust up into you ruthlessly. His large member filling you over and over again until both of you are panting heavily. "You like that?" he growls quietly, "You like being fucked by an asshole like me?" 

“I hate you so much! Ahh~” you continue to moan out as you start to ride him faster, grinding your clit against him as you ride him. Niki groans deeply as you grind against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He can feel the heat building up within him again.

"Fucking hell..." he mutters, "You're such a naughty girl..." With one final thrust, he buries himself deep inside of you. His hot seed spurts inside of you as he releases inside of you. “Fuck.. I’m cumming too..!” Niki grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your own climax rippling through your body. He can feel every spasm and twitch of your pussy as you cum. "Good girl," he murmurs, "That was quite the show." As he uncuff and removes the handcuffs from your wrists, “There.. am I still an asshole to you, y/n? Despite panting you responded, “n-no.. you were good, I give you that. I guess we aren’t really enemies anymore.” 

Suddenly you both hear a knock, his father was yelling from the door while Ni-ki’s mother was standing next to him, “Ni-ki, y/n, Are you okay? I hear some noise and wanted to make sure you guys were okay!” 

Niki sighs as he hears his parent's voices, realizing that they've been too loud. He quickly pulls up his pants and straightens out his shirt. "Yeah dad, we're fine," he calls out, "Just having a little fun." He looks at you with a smirk, "Guess we better clean up real quick."

You smirk and laugh at him, “I told you this could’ve happened.” He laughs softly, "Yeah, you did." Niki gives you a playful wink, "Maybe next time we should try to be quieter especially you, y/n." As he listens to his parent's footsteps fade away, he relaxes again. Turning back to you, he grins mischievously. “One last thing.., I’m grateful today for eating your pussy, y/n.” 

[oacest]

Hi I would like to delve deeper into the oasis lore and was wondering if you have any book recs ?

I read that the supersonic book (containing all the interviews from the doc) is quiet extensive, and obvi from the sources themselves, but maybe you have other Recs that you found interesting?

we were delighted to get this ask, bc yes yes YES we DO have loads of opinions on the oasis books! Be aware that most of these cover sort of the same time period (my spirit mourns for an in-depth book dealing with the mid-to-late aughts). Presumably every publishing house in the UK circa 1996 was offering book deals to randos if they heard the name "Oasis", but these are the best ones (there are, if you can believe it, many more):

The Supersonic interviews are a definite rec -- they're exhaustive, cover way more than the doc suggests, and feature a lot more voices too. The editing job is astounding. Definitely be aware while reading that the interviews were conducted in 2015; with Oasis especially, facts and feelings change depending on time, mood, the wind, whether one is hungover, etc

Brothers from childhood to Oasis by Paul Gallagher. If one never reads any other book on Oasis, they should read this. In fact, no one is permitted to have an opinion on Noel or Liam without having read it. Paul has his blindspots, as one would expect with any sibling, but he also ofc knows his brothers and what makes them tick in a way no one else on the planet does, so!

Oasis: what's the story? by Ian Robertson. This one is somewhat controversial; the author was a bodyguard/security coordinator for Oasis and people understandably have opinions on that. Imo he's a good enough writer that he has a very clear authorial voice and perspective, which makes any worry about being fed lies moot so long as one has a brain. I appreciate he also takes some artistic risks in this book. Also, regardless of his flaws as a man or employee lol, he has a keen, at times painfully empathetic read on Liam specifically. iirc he was the only person who wrote about Oasis in those early years who had a front row seat to Liam's voice/throat problems, which lends a somewhat Cassandraic air to the whole book.......

Getting high: the adventures of Oasis by Paolo Hewitt. Oh, Paolo. What can we say. You have to read this one because it covers so much ground, just be aware it's badly written and the author is quite biased towards Noel. (I say this as a Noelist myself)

Was There Then: A Photographic Journey by Jill Furmanovsky. This is a photography book (and a fucking beautiful one) but it also has a TON of text background. Critically, it offers a perspective on the band/brothers missing from all the rest in this list -- that is, the view and impressions of two women who worked closely with the band (Jill herself and Daniela Soave, a music journalist)

Oasis, definitely by Tim Abbot. This one had a lot of personality and abbot was a creation guy so he knew the band pretty well.

Take Me There: Oasis' Story by Paul Mathur. Mathur was a Melody Maker journalist who followed them around in the early years. He had a pretty fair take on them.

The Truth: my life as Oasis's drummer by Tony McCarroll. So, obviously Tony hates Noel, like. A lot. You have to approach this book like you're giving a hostile witness a cross examination lol but THAT SAID, he does cover stuff missing from other books like pre-deal Oasis.