#i TRY not to go all political on my fandom blog

[liesmyth]

btw. Do we all remember two weeks ago when Joe Biden straight up said "We can't really trust the number of victims being reported from Gaza :(" as if that justifies war crimes. And we let him.

Do we all remember a month ago when IDF sources on twitter claimed the strike on the al-Ahli hospital, then immediately deleted, then posted a video showing wrongly timestamped footage that was also deleted, and we all had to pretend for a week that it was a misfired Hamas rocket because the IDF says so and the US says so, and the IDF would never ever ever strike a hospital.

And then we all collectively stopped talking about it because the IDF did, in fact, strike several hospitals. Laid sieges to hospitals. Attacked and cut fuel to hospitals. And UN facilities. And refugee camps. And ambulances. And journalists. And are currently shelling the only working medical facility left in Gaza.

Anyway! Bet that a decade from now we'll have so much fun unpacking all of this and talking about the media narrative like today we talk about post 9/11 propaganda, and the absolute willful silence of so many major political actors like we talked about the Srebrenica massacre in the 2000s. I hate it that we don't learn shit.

[gingerswagfreckles]

Hey everything is getting so crazy and infuriating so I'm making a lot of posts about gentile antisemitism and I just wanted to say that to my like 5 or 6 gentile followers who actually reblog this stuff despite the inevitable backlash and ostracization that comes with being associated with Jews nowadays, I see it and I really really really REALLY appreciate it. Beyond what I can really articulate.

[hermitcraftx]

just got a dm abt one of my posts and y'all please don't try and show the hermits (or any minecraft youtuber or content creator for that matter) my posts, i'm uncomfortable with it and don't want any of my posts shown to a cc. if they stumble upon it naturally that's unfortunate but i can live with it since i do maintag a lot (something i REALLY need to stop doing tbh i already know i need to make a tagging system just for my blog that wont clog results) but going out of ur way to show a cc is entirely different and something i am not comfortable with.

no hate to the person at all but even if i wasn't a little silly and weird with it sometimes i wouldn't be comfortable with it, i want my blog to be a purely fandom only space with none of the creators involved <3 please respect this

[banneriscarried]

When you’re voting, you’re not voting for the government you want to live under. You’re voting for the government you can make progress under.

Any regime that promises you everything you want is either going to a) lie to you because it was never going to do everything you agree with in the first place, b) try to do everything and either stretch itself too thin or get blocked by those that don’t agree, or c) not even have a chance to get into power at all.

When you have an overarching government, you need to take small steps in the right direction. You need to compromise and prioritize. You need to understand that progress doesn’t happen over night, especially not with loud and prominent opposition.

Focus on ensuring that people can continue to vote in this country. Focus on ensuring that the people who live here won’t be persecuted just for being a minority. Focus keeping fascism out of our government.

Prioritize keeping the government as a body that can be worked on. That allows for positive change and progress.

We can make more progress down the line, but we need to be in a position where we’re not actively fighting for our lives to get there.

Watching america's politics is a horror show but at least the memes are fun.

Gotta say though, a lot of young progressives look like they haven't learned anything since 2016.

"I'm not voting for the democrat, they're not good enough for me!" The communities whose rights are on the line will surely be comforted by your morals.

"What about Palestine?!" - Maybe worry about your own country becoming a fascist state first?

"But Harris was a cop! I heard she did Bad Things!" You heard right-wing bullshit disguised as left-wing bullshit and gobbled it. Self-defeating nonsense.

ETA: I'm from NZ and we recently did this 'teach them a lesson by not voting Labour because they're not good enough' strat and big shocker it didn't work. Everything's worse now.

[the0ther-side0f-dawn]

should i just become a Phan trash blog??

[sorcerous-caress]

I hope you are doing well

Did I- Did I make it seem like I'm going crazy or something? Like yes I am okay, I promise.

Well, no. I lied, but I'm not worse than normal. I have always been this deranged. It is not out of the ordinary. Why the concerns now?

But thank you anyways, I hope you're doing well too.

[delicatepointeofview]

Incomparable

fandom: Bridgerton

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

summary: you don’t fit in quite well with the rest of the ton, but you still manage to catch the eye of the Viscount

note: this is for the girlies with resting bitch face, warning this is a fem!reader as much as i prefer a gender neutral reader, the heteronormative regency society just doesn’t allow it

this was already once posted before on my since deleted blog by my same current name but has been slightly edited :)

It was only one of the first balls of many and you were already regretting your unfortunate position as a newly presented flower of the season. You never thought you had what it took to be this year’s diamond, nor its ruby, nor its pearl, or any jewel for the matter. In your eyes you didn’t have the effortless glimmer that Daphne Bridgerton had last season nor the graceful steps of this season's ingénue, Edwina Sharma.

Of course, you had prepared all your life for this moment like every upper class girl. Knowing all that you should to be presented into society. You sat through the pianoforte lessons and even tried your hand at singing (which was a terrible mistake). You learned to embroider from your mother, much to the dismay of your aching fingers which always manage to burn and go numb far too quickly for her liking. You read all the textbooks even though you much preferred novels, never understanding the point of your tutors' comments about men wanting to marry educated girls. Quickly learning as you grew older and more outspoken that gentlemen like to know a woman is well read, but hardly ever that they use that knowledge in conversation.

But somehow, even after the painstakingly long hours at the modiste getting fitted for new dresses and the even longer time you spent getting into them, none of it was enough. Not the lessons, not the newly dropped hem, not the hours of sitting for your hair to be expertly styled and bejeweled by the finest gems your family had to offer. Still every other lady and her mama have had to comment on how you are so far from even the realm of possibly being considered a diamond. You heard their whispers through the silk and lace of their folding fans as clear as the night.

‘They barely graced the Queen with a smile,”

‘They’ll definitely grow to be a spinster with that face,’

Oh, but this wasn’t only from the women, of course not, they just have the decency to try and say this behind your back. You are well aware of how men love to grace you with their opinion, despite you caring very little for it. They always have the audacity to say these things straight to your somber face as if it would do you any good.

‘You know, you would be slightly prettier if you smiled,’

‘If you would smile, you would seem much more amiable,’

and most recently,

“I am sure more gentlemen would ask for a dance if you didn’t look so miserable, my Lady,”

You had been approached by a well-respected gentlemen named Mr. Hastings when you had escaped your mother’s disapproving clutches to find solace at the refreshments table. Drinking lemonade desperately wishing it were wine. He asked you to dance. Much to your misfortune you couldn’t fain a full dance card as the one clutched in your gloved hand was mockingly empty. This left you enduring a dreadfully boring conversation about his horse, how much it had cost him, how much it is actually worth, and just how incredible this horse was. You quite frankly wished to be anywhere else. As would anyone else you’re sure, but while they may have hid that behind a polite smile you showed your boredom evidently in your downturned lips.

But what would be the point in hiding it? You were tired of the facade that enwrapped these balls and society. Everyone was smiling, but was anyone truly happy? Even then who is happy and just goes around smiling like some loon. You were having a terrible time parading around the room with your mother’s stern grip on your arm showcasing you like a piece of meat, or a show pony— or to be terribly on the nose, Mr. Hastings prized horse.

Then once you had finally escaped her and found peace hoping to blend in to the wallpaper, you have been made to endure small talk and dance with a man you had little interest in. All while he made you listen to his horrendously dull conversation and he had the nerve to ask— no, to want you to not look miserable. This man who looked like molding swiss cheese and only spoke of his horse.

“I beg you pardon, sir?”

“That you look as if you are attending a funeral, my lady,” he says as he spins you following the choreography of the dance, “It is only polite that you smile as we dance.”

His own obviously fake smile is painted across his face, all thin lips and no teeth as he eyes you expectantly waiting for you to obediently heed his suggestion—or more likely it was a sort of social command. Polite society would have deemed you to be all smiles and perfect wit, to ease yourself out of this treacherous conversation you were wormed into with a poised grace or give in to his orders with a sickly sweet smile because it would be rude not to, no?

But no, indeed. You were not going to give in. No matter how many whispered or backhanded compliments you received only on your first night into society. You had seen how your female cousins and older friends had broken their backs to bend to the whims of society. Left behind forgotten ideals to suit their new suitors to get the ring and the wedding that would never even scratch at their fanciful girlish dreams of prince charmings and knights in shining armor. You would not let society break you.

“Well, I would smile if I was having a nice time. Maybe if you said something funny I would laugh or if the conversation was pleasant,” you had stopped dancing now, tired of this day and all the niceties and manners you were to follow.

You stood before him with your jaw clenched and your brows furrowed absolutely seething, “But you are far from pleasant. All you do, sir, is speak of your race horse and how much it is worth to you. If you care so much about your horse, I wonder why you ever wish to marry when all your attention seems to be going to your insipid horse!”

“Why you rude, intolerable girl—”

You didn’t care any more about the staring eyes of the ton or the gasps from appalled mamas. You would have welcomed all of Mr. Hastings angry words to at least hear something real for the first time all day. But instead he is cut short as the figure of a man approaches your side.

“I beg your pardon Mr. Hastings. How dare you raise your voice to a lady, have you no honor or decorum?”

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton stood before the two of you. Chin tilted upwards and shoulders set back in an unspoken challenge with the less titled man in front of you.

His question goes unanswered, but he continues nodding to you, “I believe the Lady makes a very agreeable point, sir. You speak entirely of your horse and nothing else, this would bore any with a brain in the ton.”

You almost would have laughed if you weren’t so shocked. What exactly was the Viscount doing? You hardly ever spoke other than short introductions and nods exchanged while you were in the company of his sister and your friend, Eloise.

But there was not a moment to think on this further as the scene that was forming around you was all too captivating. Mr. Hastings, who it should be mentioned once more felt so prideful of his horse, can be seen visibly shrinking shoulder hunching forward slumping as if he were a little boy who lost a game. He clears his throat, “Well then, I shall take my conversation elsewhere.”

Before he could turn to leave the eldest Bridgerton son stops him, “Sir, you have forgotten to apologize to the Lady,”

Mr. Hasting freezes in his place turning to eye the man and you bite your lip fighting the laugh that threatens to erupt at the odious man whose eyes widen and mouth becomes agape like a fish out of water.

“My apologies,” the words seem to clog at his throat and so he says nothing else. Nodding, “Lord Bridgerton...” and your name before meekly making his way through the crowd, his head down avoiding the gazes of the onlookers.

At this point most of the ton had gone back to their conversations around you, though there were still some lingering eyes as the dance floor had been oddly shaped as you and the Viscount remained standing in part of the appointed area. Anthony notices this and leads you further into the crowd.

Once he finds an agreeable spot he stops turning towards you, “I actually do wish to counter your statement, my lady,” he begins. You expect for a moment to be met with some stern lecture from a man who seems to think he’s entitled to an opinion of you as if he were your father (who you also do not think should have an opinion, but alas it is only 1814). Anthony surprises you however as instead he grins and says, “I actually believe Mr. Hastings would marry his horse if the Queen would allow it.”

And you couldn’t help but laugh, despite all your pride and pettiness to not grace this event or anyone in it with any pleasurable countenance. You laughed loudly tilting your head back, jeweled neck on display even letting out a small snort against your will. When you finally compose yourself, giggles dying down at the thought of Mr. Hastings in a horrid muddy green suit with a horse in a wedding dress, you can’t fight the smile that falls on your lips. Although unnatural to you, the light hearted joke and your vivid imagination make it easy. It lasts for a few seconds before you become very conscious of it as you let your lips fall back to their usual place.

Though if anyone was truly looking for it— which Anthony was— they would see the slight quirk in your lips as you told the Viscount, “It looks like you’ve gained the honor of making me laugh, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“I relish the title, my lady,” he says and you can tell he does from the smile that meets his ears, all teeth and pushed back cheeks. You acknowledge that this might be the realest encounter you have had since your debut. Anthony Bridgerton smiling from ear to ear was a sight to see.

He continues, “But I do have to disagree with the comments I have been hearing tonight. Smile or no smile you present the ladies looking to wed this season with quite the competition.”

“Me? Hardly, did you not hear my Lord, my countenance would never get me a marriage proposal,” you say fiddling with the hem of your gloves at your wrist.

“I would disagree, I think any reasonable man in attendance would be foolish to not see how incomparable you are, my lady.”

Incomparable.

You fight it like you had once your laugh, but you feel the heat spread to your cheeks and the nerves that begin to twist in your stomach. You didn’t need it, but the compliment was well appreciated after a night such as this one.

Giving you no time to compose the fluttering in your chest, Anthony adds, “Any lady who manages to be bold enough to tell Mr. Hasting how insufferable his horse talk is, ranks high in my book.”

“Well you might be the only one, sir,” you try to be as brave as you feel and dare to smile at him, but his gaze causes you to look away bashfully. That is when you notice your mother approaching and wishing not to make a fool in front of the Viscount you excuse yourself, “I do believe my mother has just been informed of the scene I have caused, so if you’ll excuse me.”

But before you can turn to go he calls out your name placing his warm bare hand on your own gloved fingers making you turn back to him.

“Would you save me a dance?”

And despite yourself, Anthony Bridgerton manages again to make you smile, “Of course”.

[thatdeadaquarius]

HELP I JUST HAD A THOUGH

WHAT IF

What if....

Blunt reader became a harbinger

I have NO idea how that would go but im here for the crack lol

I BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-

(and to use this gif more importantly they're all so hot here lol)

Sun: Reader (you/they/them), Blunt Language AU :D

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, crack treated srsly (yes im using ao3 tags atp)

Stars: Harbingers!

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

SO thought I’d update anyone missing out bc of the new year but-

I made this silly thing called Blunt Language AU, that was my 1st post for this blog/fandom actually! :D

I’ll link it here, but TLDR: it’s just our modern speech sounding “ancient” to the Teyvatians, who speak really flowery/fluffy/lots of context in comparison!

That’s all you rlly need to know to read this I think, so enjoy! :)

☆

u fall into Genshin Impact, and Snezhnaya is where you land first type of energy lol

weird golden star falling from the sky? that sounds like a prophecy the Tsaritsa knows abt alright

so they sent Childe, one of the friendliest (if not The Friendliest) Harbinger, to see if it was a valid claim you’d finally descended,

and ofc as soon as the redhead heard you try and talk to him, he knew the claims by the small village nearby (who had taken u in from the cold weather/taken care of you) were legit

pantalone did manage to squeeze some examples of what you’d possibly sound like into his head before he left so while Childe personally has a tough time talking to you, it doesn't mean he’s not willing to try!! >:)

he mostly just kept asking questions forever until he understood what you meant, and as soon he got u were asking abt the Tsaritsa, the other Harbingers, himself, even how to get Sneznayan-made clothes lol

he was like: 👀👀👀???!!!!

it wasn't so much recruitment at first as it was “omg the exalted one wishes to learn abt us, the Tsaritsa and her Harbingers? abt me?? well would your highness like to come to our palace perchance???!!!!”

= have u ever been seduced and worshipped by a god and her country?? would you like to- ??? ← Childe actually

and with that convinces you to come straight to the Harbingers/Tsaritsa’s very home

No, you’re not just spoiled.

No, you’re not just pampered.

You are cosseted and coveted.

The Tsaritsa makes her first in person appearance to the people in decades to personally announce your return, and to get a festival going to literally parade you into the capital lol

And tbh it was kind of shocking how quickly the people of Snezhnaya are able to whip out the party supplies, within days of traveling via horses/sleds/carriage/trains all kinds of transportation, u arrived at the capital in full swing of a parade for you

The Tsaritsa herself in what looks like a genshin-ified kokoshnik, the elaborate headress draped with a veil so thin it looks like frost covering her face,

flocked on either side by her harbingers in full (kinda goth) ceremonial outfits waiting on your arrival too

needless to say you are properly smitten intimidated

and you stay nervous around them for the first few days or so,

that is before you run into the weekly, what you would call “family dinner nights”, but they call “dinner reports”…

in which Childe, the only one you’d been comfortable enough around to be a bit more genuine to, and surprisingly the only one to quickly adapt to your speech after traveling with you for days, would translate for you what tf you were saying to them vs. what everyone at the table was saying to you/around you

you would also like to propose other titles for these weekly dinner meetings you’re invited to, aka “family feud dinner night/family fight night/harbinger on harbinger hate night/fruit on fruit crimes, if you will” 💀

the Tsaritsa is just peacefully talking to you abt any and everything, bc ofc Pierro’s on her right, and ur on her left

(she and Pierro are surprisingly soft spoken, very polite, and able to say something interesting/take an interest in whatever subject you all end up on)

u don't think you've ever been more comfortable and on such equal footing around ppl sm older than you (what are older ppl to you, but to them ur literally fucking eldritch with how ancient u are, and u can tell with how they treat u like it lmao)

hard cut back to the rest of the table:

an argument that just gets louder and louder has broken out between Childe, Dottore, La Signora, and Pantalone abt who should get free time with you first/get to do smth with you first as you get over ur adjustment period here, Childe has taken his butter knife to throw and just barely missed Dottore’s eye, and it is now embedded in the back of his fancy chair (the servants placing down dinner courses just move abt w/the most bored expressions on their faces)

(u send half the table if this group gets out of hand and u just: “Please shut the fuck up, each of ur comebacks take 30 minutes and it’s killing me” 💀 bc they're the most likely to understand u too, even Pierro/Capitano/Pulcinella chuckle a little, and u think the Tsaritsa smirked under her veil)

ur honestly too scared to see what Scarmouche, Sandrone, and Arlecchino are arguing about, because they're arguing so silently further down the table. They have murder in their eyes.

Columbina and Capitano are having a peaceful collab over weapons, armor, and clothing to offer you, Pulcinella is close enough to both participate in that convo and in you, Pierro, and the Tsaritsa’s convos too

by the 2nd week you've decided to choose chaos, and get them to play board games together sometimes (they cant all make it all the time, tbh u don't know if u can handle that either) but groups of them will play at a time

u remembered early on what a dick Dottore was, and sentenced asked if he’d like to play this new board game called “Monopoly” from ur world with Childe, Pantalone, Pierro, Arlecchino, La Signora, and Scaramouche all together :)

(so what ur trying to bring khaenri’ah part 2 down on his head as punishment?? u owe scara and collei that at least)

Columbina is more than happy to help get you Harbinger-like clothes to wear since ur so interested in the style!! (yes yesss get converted, she already has a title picked out for you)

she also giggles anytime u talk abt whether u like an outfit or not, bc u just “no thank you I’d rather wear a trash bag than that shirt, but lets try another?”

meanwhile the tailors in the background u could literally edit them to one of those videos where it just zooms in on their faces with a vine boom of shock

like Pierro, ur unranked, just above the other Harbingers really, as it wouldn't do to make you the 12th Harbinger or smth

the names they gave you being, “The Playwright” or “The Renaissance” or even “Drammaturgo”

(pls anyone who speaks Italian correct if I'm wrong ToT )

ok but the first time, unsurprisingly, one of them got snappy with you, likely Scara I would think,

Scaramouche, pissy: “And what shall we do if it appears our almighty god is perhaps a descender who is entirely human? Why I dare say you’d be transgressing on privileges that were never yours to begin with!”

Every other Harbinger, the Tsaritsa herself, the servants, the frost on the walls: 😶😦😨😶‍🌫️

You, unbothered, still eating and fully expecting this moment: “I don't want to hear it from someone who has god-mommy issues. You shouldn’t have an opinion about me, ur biased.”

yeah, so obviously, they’re emotionally all attached now whether they know it or not, and this was of course the moment they realized they're god would fit in so perfectly here

(the other nations are going to have to pry you from Snezhnaya from their cold dead hands, esp since u now have legal deniability to visit bc ur technically a Harbinger, only commanded by her majesty lol)

(Scaramouche, Arlecchino, and Sandrone were fighting about who gets the room nearest to your quarters lol)

(Capitano won, somehow??)

☆

sorry ive been slow lately guys, been just trying to work on alllll the fics these past weeks/days/however long its been??

anyway had the shift from hell last week so wish me luck with work this week if u see this 😭

hope u enjoyed this old ask/crack treated srsly post orah!! :D

Safe Travels,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Zayne: Keep Quiet | 18+

Once again this was due to my homie who also loves to dom Zayne. They sent me this fanfic from another fandom and we both realized we needed to step up the creativity game for L&DS. It's time to get creative with ideas my guys, because I haven't gone all out just yet.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Zayne x Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Greyson having to listen to Zayne being dommed, Submissive Zayne. Handjobs, Public settings, They're in a tent, Zayne being slutty, Whimpering and moaning, underwear gags ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: Greyson was exhausted from the mission in the Arctic. He wanted nothing more than to just relax and sleep inside the tent. Then he heard it, your footsteps, your whispers, and...Doctor Zayne moaning? ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Word Count: 1.8k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Keep Quiet

Greyson stirred in his tent, hating how bitter cold it was. There had recently been an incident over in the arctic, thankfully not as bad as the initial incident, but it had been bad enough that they called for some doctors to come and assist. Greyson had been on the fence about coming, but after seeing Dr. Zayne agreed without hesitation he thought it over and decided to join to help the hunters who had been injured in the incident.

He had been surprised to see one of Zayne’s patients had also come along, although he shouldn’t be surprised. They were a hunter, and when they called for recon they had requested both hunters and doctors. He always figured there was something between Zayne and that Deepspace Hunter, but if there was anything they had kept it under lock and key at the hospital.

Greyson let out a gentle sigh as he relaxed further into the cot. The medic’s resting tent he was in was currently empty, aside from him and Zayne. The two had been working hard and were finally allowed a moment of rest now that everything seemed to be settled down.

When he heard the flaps of the tent opening he was tempted to look over, but his exhaustion stopped him. Whomever it was would find a bed to sleep in and that was that. He closed his eyes again, opting to just try to go back to sleep. Then he heard it; Zayne’s gentle voice was barely above a whisper.

“What are you…?” Greyson’s ears perked up, ready to help Zayne if something was wrong. He then heard a laugh that he recognized all too well from his time of speaking with them at the hospital.

“I couldn’t sleep, so thought I’d visit,” your gentle voice broke out, a low whisper that Greyson wouldn’t have normally been able to hear if it wasn’t so damn silent in the tent.

Grayson heard shuffling on the cot and he briefly wondered what the hell was going on. He was about to turn around when he heard what sounded like a low moan. He froze in place, eyes widening as he wondered what the hell that was.

“Just visiting, huh?” Zayne’s voice came out in a huff and if Grayson strained his ears he could hear the shuffling of more fabric somewhere. Another soft gasp that had to belong to Zayne was heard and Grayson felt his face now heating up.

Your voice came out in a small giggle, “I mean, that and thought you could use a bit of…stress relief,” oh by everything good in life this wasn’t what he thought it was…was it? There was no way someone like Doctor Zayne would act so indecently in public, let alone with a colleague in the same tent as him.

“You realize we’re not alone, correct?” Zayne’s voice came out breathier than Greyson had ever heard. He was glad at least Zayne had some reasoning. He had never thought that you’d be willing to act like this. At the hospital you had always been polite and collected.

He heard shuffling and he could only assume it was you looking over at him, then he heard another gasp from Zayne and more fabric shifting. “He’s asleep, and will probably remain asleep for a while. You guys were up almost all night and day working,” you said with a playful lithe to your voice.

The sound of his colleague moaning then the sudden sound of wet smacking was deafening. It was clear you were kissing Zayne and Greyson was just laying there, listening to everything as he pretended to be asleep.

Should he move, clear his throat, do anything? God, he should do something to let you two know that he was awake. Sure the next time he made eye contact with either of the two it might be a bit awkward, but at least he wouldn’t have heard anything else…

He could hear Zayne now whimpering and his entire image of the man crumbled. He was used to Zayne, the Head of Surgery at Akso Hospital, someone who commanded respect. People were intimidated by this man, hell it was something he and Yvonne found entertaining with new residents who went to train under him.

That same Doctor Zayne was now whimpering while being kissed by one of his patients. He could hear more shuffling than a loud gasp from Zayne as you chuckled.

“Fuck, your cock is already leaking. Is the thought of possibly being caught turning you on this much?” your voice was teasing and it made Grayson’s own cock jump at the tone, “Fuck, you’re such a slut,” Greyson closed his eyes as he mentally told himself to not envision it was him instead of Zayne.

Another muffled moan followed by more lip smacking could be heard. It sounded so wet that it made Greyson flush at the mental image of your tongue delving into Zayne’s mouth while you were most likely on top of him. These cots could only fit one person, after all, and he hadn’t heard Zayne getting up at any point.

A sharper gasp was heard, followed by your laughter, “Gotta be quiet, baby boy,” he couldn’t believe Zayne allowed you to call him that, “Don’t wanna make a commotion. Last time we were almost caught in your office because you couldn’t keep that slutty mouth of yours quiet,” they had done it in his office?

Greyson knew he was far too deep now, all he could do was pretend to be fast asleep and wait it out. Maybe if he was lucky he’d actually fall asleep, but he doubted it. He could feel his own cock leaking at the mental images swirling inside of his mind.

The sound of Zayne whimpering again broke him out of his trance. He could then hear the wet squelching of what was most likely you working your hand over his colleagues dick. It was so wet he had to briefly wonder if you had brought lube, or if Zayne was leaking that much pre cum.

He tried getting that image out of his mind real fast. He could imagine getting a handjob from you without an issue, you were gorgeous and nice to everyone at the hospital. He couldn’t imagine Doctor Zayne whimpering underneath you. The wet slapping sound was getting louder, as was Zayne’s noises.

“Too bad I didn’t bring my strap, would’ve loved to fuck you into his cot and have you begging for more,” you said casually, not stopping whatever you were doing to Zayne. Whatever it was had to be amazing judging by how he had never heard another man sound so fucked out just from some simple touching.

Then he finally heard Zayne’s voice and it sounded wrecked, “Tha-haaah--that would be impractical. We're only here for a week.” the confirmation that you definitely bent Zayne over his desk didn’t go unnoticed. Greyson briefly imagined what you’d look like on top of Zayne, spearing into him. He didn’t think Zayne was so…submissive in bed, yet here he was listening to him coming undone.

Greyson squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his cock twitching. He was not getting off on listening to his senior doctor getting a handjob. He absolutely would never live this down if he jerked himself off while listening to them.

Zayne then let out a low groan, followed by a ‘tsk’ from you, “Damn babes, you’re so fucking noisy as per usual. Thought I told you to be quiet…hold up…lift your hips babes lemme take these off,” your voice was breathy now too and it made Greyson wonder if you were fucking him now. No, he was sure the sound of skin-on-skin slapping would be louder than the wet squelching of your hand going over Zayne’s cock.

He heard shifting on the cot near him and then suddenly Zayne’s voice got muffled by something obstructing his mouth. Your giggles filled the room and everything seemed almost louder. The cot was squeaking now as there was more movement, probably from Zayne’s hips thrusting up. Greyson knew there was no way he’d be able to just sit there himself.

“Fuck, need a lil more,” you murmured and he heard you spit. He then heard something else squelching and his face was on fire. Zayne’s muffled moans were sounding more and more like sobs. Was…he getting fingered?

It just sounded wet and lewd and how the hell did they think they were being quiet? How loud were they normally if this was what you considered as not being noisy; although upon closer inspection he was certain if he had already been asleep this wouldn’t have roused him awake.

A high keen from the back of Zayne’s throat was heard and Greyson laid there as the sound of your hand on Zayne’s cock got a little faster for a second before slowing down. It was silent for a while before he heard you hum, the sound of something somewhat wet and he knew it had to be you licking something, the noise was distinct.

“Taste so good,” you moaned and chuckled. He heard some more shuffling before Zayne cleared his throat, the makeshift boxer gag being removed from his mouth.

“That was…i-inapproriate,” Zayne finally spoke up, his voice a bit huskier but now finally going back to a proper whisper.

Your melodic laugh was music to his ears after all of this, but it came crashing down after you spoke, “Well fucking obviously. I’d rather see you more wrecked than this, but we were already louder than I wanted,” a wet smacking sound of a kiss, “Think you’ll be able to sleep after that?”

Silence fell the room before a hum from Zayne, “I’ll be fine. You should head back to your own tent before they discover you’re missing,”

“Fine…but one more,” you murmured before he could hear another kiss, this time deeper. He then heard the creak of the cot, and then gentle footsteps before the flap of the tent was opened and closed in haste. He heard the shuffling of fabrics once more as Zayne adjusted himself to be fully clothed again.

Then silence befell the room. Greyson didn’t want to make a move or else Zayne might’ve found out he was awake. He knew damn well he wouldn’t be able to look at his colleague the same ever again, but worst of all he doubted he’d be able to speak to you without remembering this and getting hard.

Greyson closed his eyes, willing his boner to go down and hoped maybe the cold he hated not long ago would help aid in calming him down. He needed sleep and perhaps he could convince himself this was all some weird, horny dream.

Y'all don't know this, but Greyson is my favorite victim. I always make him overhear Zayne getting railed in like all my RPs at this point. I need to write something where he joins...oh wait...Ferb, I know what we're doing today.

[ponyguru]

Yesterday was a sad day. I didn’t feel like I could post something blithely happy about my ponies without saying something about the election, so I’ve been musing on what to say.

Before 2016, I ran more of a ‘general fandom’ type blog on Tumblr, which skewed more heavily towards politics and activism as the orange demon began to come into the limelight. Surely, we thought, nobody would be stupid enough to vote for a reality TV star with zero credentials and so many crimes surrounding him. The election seemed like a slam dunk, since everyone had working brains.

While I had to watch people I thought I could trust celebrating the downfall of our country’s (and my) future, I realized I couldn’t carry on any kind of activism blog and keep myself alive. I leaned into 100% pony toy blogging, just to try and keep my sanity. Pony blogging became an escape, a safe place that was focused wholly on cute, comforting nostalgia. Worrying about finding the latest pony release was easier than worrying about Prop 8 removing gay marriage rights, or the overturn of Roe v Wade. Even if politics always managed to edge into my life, girls toys at least were a space where women and LGBTQIA (usually) weren’t on the fringes and marginalized.

Which leads me back to today, staring down another brutal four years in a wannabe orange dictatorship. I don’t want to simplify it with “don’t worry, we’ll all make it through again!” because a lot of us didn’t make it. I’m glad that I am in a blue state that’s working to preserve my rights, but so many others don’t have that luxury, and I’m deeply afraid for them, too. I’m scared, and a lot of us are scared, with good reason to be.

Ponies aren’t a cure all, and escapism isn’t a fix. We need to keep fighting, but you can’t fight 24/7. Many of us are already fighting just to exist in a country that doesn’t feel welcoming right now. So I’m going to keep posting about my ponies, who are comforting to me, and do my best to create a space that feels safe for me to return to, when the rest of the world isn’t. If you want to come hide in Ponyland for a little while with me every day, you’re welcome to.

I hope you all stay safe, and find a place or activity that helps you to stay alive, too. Staying alive is doing enough, in a world that wants you dead. Anything else you can do is just gravy.

I will share useful resources when I find them, usually via Insta stories, and I will keep posting ponies. Ponies bring me comfort, and I hope you can find something that comforts you, too. Stay safe, and remember that there is a better future coming. We just have to make it there. 💖

OH and I forgot to mention, I tried to comfort myself by washing some ponies from the recent doll show, hence the photo! They all cleaned up very nicely, even if Yum Yum still has a frizzball tail, LOL!

[ettawritesnstudies]

Writeblr Follow Train/queue fill up!

I just cleared out over 300 inactive/irrelevant blogs from my following list and I'm on the hunt for new, active writeblrs to follow! Please reblog this post if your blog is dedicated specifically to writing/art/original creative work!!

I'm not interested in seeing fandom or political discourse. That's all very important but my dash is cluttered with hundreds of other blogs posting that thank you very much.

All genres and ages are welcome but bonus points for fantasy, scifi, horror, and anyone who doesn't write romance/focuses on family plots

I am in the process of self publishing my debut novel and I'd love to connect with my peers! If you're also going through the publishing process or you have a book or two out, please introduce yourself!!

That being said, everyone is welcome to introduce themselves and share links to their WIP intros regardless of their experience level, I'll throw em in my queue!

If you don't know me: Hi! I'm Etta Grace, I've been on writeblr since 2019, and I used to be super involved in the community before college/real life work/author platform stuff consumed my time, and I'm trying to get back into things here! I run a website/YouTube channel where I do ARC and book reviews, author interviews, and share my observations on the publishing industry, and my middle grade faerie fantasy novel, Runaways, should hopefully be coming out in October 2025! This is my pinned post if you want to check out what I do!

Boosts appreciated!!

[arkhammaid]

VIDEO FILES : #ORAL SEX on your knees

fandom. genshin impact

pairing. neuvilette, wriothesley x gn!reader

content warnings. nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, oral sex (male receiving) office/working place sex

word count. 0.6k

notes. welcome to my first kinktober fic!! very excited to share this with you all, i hope you'll enjoy it ^^

kinktober masterlist.

neuvillette is a very polite and elegant man. he wouldn’t dare to be caught in a compromising situation. any kind of affection is to be kept private, away from public eyes. and even then, he never dares to succumb to his darkest fantasies, whispering in his mind, instead he prefers to love you gently. only you have other plans, kneeling in front of him, nestled between his legs and hidden away from anyone who would dare to look closer. 

he’s on his seat, above everyone else, focusing on the ongoing trial and trying to ignore your warm mouth on his cock. your slurping noises are incredibly loud in his ears but he knows no one can hear you over the shouting of the audience. his thighs shake beneath your hands, and he knows he’s flushed— but you take him so deep, so good and archons— how pretty you look, mouth stuffed, drooling and eyes tearing up— his hands are in your hair, trying to control the pace you set, anything to stop the pleasure zipping up his spine, the orgasm creeping up on him. but it only makes it worse, making you moan around him and he almost doubles over. 

muffling his own moans, he can only hear you gag and gurgle, suddenly even more eager to make him come. and he does, cursing softly when you finally release his dick from your mouth, tongue painted white, presenting his cum with a coy look on your face. he’s leaning back on his seat, ignoring the increasing noise of concern around him, mouth going dry as you proceed to clean up his softening cock with your tongue. 

never has he left a trial as chief justice since he had been appointed, but this day he excused himself, face flushed and a dark gaze in his eyes. 

wriothesley, unlike others, will not hesitate to show his love for you in public. he’s not shy with kisses on your cheeks and lips, hands grabbing your waist or any kind of touch, that’s not too inappropriate for a noble. you like the attention, both in public and in private, but you love it even more to give some attention and care back. and if that means to have him backed at his working table, thighs spread and pants pooling around his ankles— if it means for you to sink onto your knees and suck him off, with his hands in your hair, guiding your movements—

well, who are you to complain? having him at your mercy, panting and moaning, a complete mess all because you kneel in front of him and give him back all the attention he has given you. 

leaning back on his work desk, hips twitching with every motion of your tongue— wriothesley flushes oh so prettily when aroused. it starts with his cheeks, travels down his neck, head thrown back when you completely swallow him. and the noises he makes, choked and high pitched, so differently than his usual deep and gruff voice. as if that isn’t enough, he’s not shy either to praise you. filthy yet sweet words fill the room, accompanied by his pants and the wet noises from your mouth. 

and then, when he finally comes, all over your face, you can’t help but stare at him, ignoring your aching jaw and knees. his head thrown back and eyes closed, his harsh face softened and vulnerable— all just for your eyes only. 

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[olderthannetfic]

Really wish that female characters weren't held to such extremely high standards.

I'm a writer and I follow a lot of writing advice blogs and no one really gives a shit how you write male characters (unless it's relevent to them being a minority, which is understandable) but whenever they talk about writing female characters, following their "advice" feels like I'm trying to defuse a bomb at gunpoint.

They can't be GNC or a tomboy or hate makeup/dresses/etc. or else they're a "pick me" or "NLOG" and they have internalized misogyny and that's bad. Unless of course at the end they overcome this horrible "character flaw" and get put in a dress and learn how to be a real, Proper Woman™. (And let me tell you, this one is really fun to see as a GNC woman. 🙄)

They can't be too polite, softspoken, or weak, because then they're a damsel in distress and submissive. But they also can't be rude, loud, or aggressive because then you're doing the "mean girl" trope which is bad and evil.

They can't wear skimpy clothing or be sexual at all. They should never seduce anyone, sleep around, or god forbid want to get naked in front of people, because if you do that you're sexualizing women for the male gaze and you're bad and unfeminist.

They can't fight with other female characters because then it's a "catfight" and it's misogynistic, because I guess women always get along and support each other (lmao).

And fandoms are no better. If a male character has ten thousand flaws people go "I don't care this is my babyboy blorbo man" but if a female character has a single negative or "problematic" attribute people go absolutely apeshit. But then if she doesn't have any flaws, she gets called a Mary Sue.

Women (and female characters) cannot do anything without someone hating us, huh?

--

TBH, it's not really more or less understandable about minorities. "Don't write extremely basic and egregious stereotypes with no depth" is a good rule. "Only write Good Rep" is not.

[anomalyaly]

Just needed to come on here and rant

I usually try to stay away from drama and keep to my small circle of people I regularly interact with, but it makes me sad to see so many wonderful creators I know leave because people don’t know how to be nice or keep their mouths shut.

First of all, the world is shit as it is. Fandom is created to be a safe space, where people can come together over a mutual love for something. FANDOM is honoring a creation - which means getting to do what you want with what’s already been put out. The characters/game/etc were a gift to us, and we get to take that and MAKE things.

If you don’t agree with someone’s interpretation, MOVE ON or MAKE YOUR OWN. Canon is a baseline. There was a quote that went around tumblr a long time ago that said, "sometimes, fanfic is a love letter to canon, sometimes it's a polite disagreement, sometimes it's 95 things canon did wrong nailed to a door.”

I’ve said it a million times before - you don’t like it, make your own. Better to channel your anger into being creative than sending hate someone else’s way and stifling theirs.

I know it’s probably a few squeaky wheels since this fandom is quite small, and all of the creators that I’ve interacted with have been lovely, kind, wonderful people.

Second of all, I have been in fandom spaces for a VERY long time. Not to age myself, but I was actively on tumblr during the SuperWhoLock awakening (iykyk) and was big on interacting in the Supernatural fandom. There was a confession blog there as well that spiraled into bullying people for shipping certain characters or interpreting them a certain way.

I received a number of awful hate messages and even death threats because of something I spoke out on. It caused me to pull away from fandom spaces and lurk instead of interacting for…well, considering HL is the first thing that got me back out there, and after a whole year and a half of lurking, it’s been a long time. I don’t want to see my lovely people here go through the same thing I did.

Anyway. This wasn’t as articulate as I wanted to make it, and I’m not even sure where to end this. It all just needed to be said.

Please think before sending messages. The world is terrible enough - let’s keep this a safe and welcome space.

And to the hateful anons? Maybe open up your laptop and create what it is you want instead of harassing others. Or, you know. Go to therapy.

I love all my wonderful HL creators (and kind lurkers!) and I’m giving you all a big hug.

[sgiandubh]

What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

[joydemorra]

Do you ever start something as a joke and lose complete control over your life?

In a world of dwindling hope, love has never mattered more... [read the full blurb here]

What is Hunger Pangs?

Hunger Pangs, often shortened to “Phangs” by the self-proclaimed phangdom, is my debut romance novel, published in Nov 2020, featuring a deaf, disabled werewolf, a neurodivergent, mad scientist vampire, and an all-powerful enchantress who is the last of her kind.

It is the first book in a slow-burn, polyamorous gaslamp fantasy romance series focusing on the relationship(s) and antics of the three main characters, Nathan Northland, Vlad Blutstein, and Lady Ursula, as they work to save the world they love from imminent magical and ecological disaster.

The first book primarily focuses on the relationship between Nathan and Vlad, with Ursula heavily alluded to in the next book (Pride and Folly) via some shameless flirting and stolen, impulsive kisses.

No love triangles here. Just three highly competent, world-saving bisexuals sharing the same brain cell the closer they get to each other.

There are two editions of the novel. The Flirting with Fangs edition depicts on-page sexual acts, and the Fluff and Fangs edition which uses alternative scenes/fade-to-black scenes for those who prefer not to read depictions of sex. You can read more about why I decided to do this here.

How Did Phangs come to be?

Like most things on my blog, the original concept began as a joke. My friend and enabler, @jeneelestrange, and I were talking about our least favorite tropes in romance/erotica, including but not limited to toxic “alpha” werewolves, brooding stalker vampire boyfriends, and the absolute profound bullshit that is the Conflicted Love Triangle and Bury Your Gays.

Eventually, it culminated in this post:

(source)

It was meant to be a joke. I really cannot emphasize this enough. It was meant to be a shitpost between friends.

A throwaway ADHD impulse.

Tumblr, however, wanted more of these posts, and like a swarming mass of drift-compatible rats in a trench coat, grabbed hold of my lack of impulse control and Ratatouille'd me into becoming an international bestselling author, and, well, here we are.

I also started writing the series while dying, which I highly do not recommend as a functional creative process.

Absolutely do not start a 500k five-part novel series about love and hope while dying from an undiagnosed genetic disorder. Or if you do, make sure you actually die so you don't have to edit the damn thing. (I am mostly kidding.)

What are the themes/tropes/character dynamics of the book?

In the simplest of terms, Phangs is a queer-polyamorous-paranormal-satirical-romance series featuring vampires, werewolves, and all other manner of creatures that go bump in the night.

It is set in a pseudo-regency meets fake-Victorian Gaslamp Fantasy world, complete with gothic castles, enchanted forests, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust.

Style-wise, Phangs has been described by readers as "like reading the queer, goth love child of Terry Pratchett meets Jane Austen," and I've never been more proud of anything in my life.

If Game of Thrones ascribes to the idea that the night is dark and full of terrors, Phangs is the monster-fucker politely sidling up to them at the bar and asking if they can buy them a drink.

It is also primarily a love letter to fandom, which has led some people to believe it’s fanfiction with the serial labels filed off. But as the person who spent five years agonizing over the world-building, I can assure you this is all very much the product of my weird little ADHD brain picking up tropes, shaking them upside down, and running off with whatever fun and interesting things shake loose.

As already stated, the first book, True Love Bites, focuses primarily on the relationship between Captain Nathaniel J. Northland and Viscount Vlad Blutstein.

The first part of the book primarily focuses on Nathan coming home injured from war and trying to find his place in the world as newly deaf and disabled -- something which alienates him from his werewolf family, who don't know what to do with an injury that can't be mended by a full moon.

While working on the island of Eyrie, he encounters Viscount Blutstein -- Vlad-- a neurodivergent, mad scientist dandy vampire with an enthusiasm for demonic botany and a streak of unfailing kindness as broad and expansive as the sky.

It's not so much love at first sight for the pair as instantaneous lust hampered by the restrictions of polite 1880 society and old ingrained prejudices that make them think the other couldn't possibly be interested in them that way. They're just misreading all those heartfelt stares and sexually charged chess games.

(The love is requited, your honor, they're just idiots.)

Both characters are explicitly queer/mspec, as is Ursula, who drops into their world like a magical atom bomb going off, but not before she spends her own parts of the book desperately trying to figure out what manner of dark entity is killing the magical shrines around the world that keep the world alive.

Thematically, the series touches on many things, but the book’s overriding theme is love. Romantically, of course, and love between families, both found or otherwise. But also love as an act of courage. As a choice. An act of defiance in dark and troubling times, and what it means to be loved and belong even though you’re different.

Especially when you’re different.

And I really fucking hope you enjoy it.

To read the full synopsis and check out the heat ratings, buy links and content tags, go to www.joydemorra.com