#i feel like i'm chewing on concrete every time i think about it

[iris-nonsense]

As nodt always makes me a little bit insane like as far a s we know he spent most of his life bedridden with some type of illness that makes the mere act of staying alive painful, he's deeply scared of death because he's afraid that after it there will only be enternal suffering worse than what he's already experiencing. At some point he meets yhwach who promises to free him from fear and gives him the power to inflict that same fear on others. As nodt go to war and does exactly that and he enjoys it because for one he's not the one who's afraid but he's the one making others experience that overwhelming sense of primordial fear and this in some way exorcise his own. And then he comes face to face with rukia who mange to neutralize his power and he dies and it's cold and painful and scary. In the end yhwach doesn't keep his promise and, in his last moments, as nodt is still alone desperate and afraid. Nothing has changed he just postponed the inevitable

[cute-sucker]

all i can think about is boxer!rafe with his cute clumsy gf??

𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

rafe being a boxer did not help your situation as an unnaturally clumsy person.

you're always on the brink of failing down, head face first into concrete, or something even worse. you feel like an idiot every single day as you try to get through obstacles that face your everyday life.

going up the stairs? yes, you have fallen going up the stairs.

going down the stairs? check that off the list too. that was done a hot minute ago. it's all a blur to you, but when you and rafe first got into a relationship it was alarming the amount of bruises you got.

it was strange to be with someone so coordinated as him, as if every single on his moves was coordinated. you had watched him box and every move deliberate. power and strength oozed off of him, and you wondered what you even offered in the relationship. after all he was the one taking care of you.

he could tell when you were about to fall - his hand stuck out to catch you, he could tell when you were going to trip, hands reaching for your shoulders. you would always give him a cute smile afterwards, and a welcoming kiss.

but there were other times when you felt worse about it, crying to him about how incompetent you were, "can't do it, rafe. i'm so, so clumsy," and you could tell that he was fighting the urge to laugh as you pouted.

"nah. i like it," he would mutter, before gently smudging your lipstick with his finger as he tilted down to give you a peck, "keeps me on my toes."

and yet there were times when being clumsy did not help at all.

you were snuggled to his side, smelling his hoodie in deeply before sighing. the movie was playing in the background as he held you close to his chest, as a soft humming escaped your lips. it was a moment you knew you would always remember, and you raised your arms to stretch.

little to your knowledge the sleeves of your shirt went down to uncover a litter of blue and green bruises. they looked fairly recent but still were blossoming on your skin. unbeknownst to you, rafe's eyes quickly traveled to your arms.

"hey? you good?" he sputtered out, and you gave him a smitten nod, burrowing deeper into his chest. rafe looked even more concerned, readjusting - which forced you to get up as a short whine left your mouth.

he tugged at your sweatshirt, "what the hell was that?"

you furrowed your eyebrows, "what the hell was what? you have to be more specific rafe-" you hated this, and even though you didn't know what he was talking about there was this inkling of fear that stuck into your heart.

rafe let out a grunt, before pulling away down your sleeves again, and then he pointed at the bruises, "these? who hurt you?"

dumbfounded you stared at your arms, and then looked at rafe - his eyes practically bugging out of their sockets, jaw clenched as if a vein was about to burst and you couldn't help but start giggling.

"hey. hey, focus," a hand reached for your jaw as you stared into his steely eyes. suddenly you saw another side of him, the rafe that everyone talked about. the one that could knock out a guy with one punch, the one that came home with bloody knuckles and a chewed mouth guard. and yet it was the same rafe that slept in your bed comfortably and whispered your name gently as if he wanted to etch it on his heart.

that rafe.

you had zoned out again before you noticed his furious expression, and then an unpleasant smile that crossed on his face. it looked as if he was trying to feign being calm, and you felt tears prick your eyes.

"rafe-"

"no crying. c'mon baby, just give me a name."

now you were chuckling through tears, and he gave him an incredulous look.

finally he pecked your lips, his words oddly sweet, "listen. i've always told you i'm gonna protect you right. it's jeff isn't it-" his words came out sharp, and you knew exactly who he was talking about - your boss at the restaurant you worked at who complained about your inability to do anything right.

but that was definitely not it.

"rafe!" you finally sputtered, "rafe it's me."

finally he stopped, his mouth gaping open, "what do you mean it's you sweets?"

you huffed, looking down at your arms, "i'm so darn clumsy that i have bruises everywhere. i always check before i go to bed, yk' to check how many i have."

rafe's concern quickly shifted to a mix of frustration and worry as he examined the bruises on your arms, letting soft clucks. he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair before turning to you with a furrowed brow.

"sweetheart, you have to be more careful," he said, his tone tinged with annoyance but softened by genuine concern, and then he finally tugged you in closer as you started to protest.

"we'll talk about this later. maybe you'll start boxing, huh? you'll be my little champ."

𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

taglist for all my fics; @wearemadeofstardust0

taglist for boxer!rafe: @maybankslover @vogueprincess @spookyscaryspoon

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[falling-star-cygnus]

HI HIII HELLO!!! -> your request has been moved over here, and i sincerely hope you enjoy!!

and i really like these ideas!! so thank you ever so much for the request, dear anonymous

i toyed with an idea like this before in my head, but i couldn't quite figure out how to articulate it ~so~ hopefully this'll help me out with Nekomata's characterization more

Spending so much time in Hollows, it's easy to forget that Billy can be harmed by things that aren't Ethereals.

Badly harmed.

Nekomata hadn't been a member of the Cunning Hares' for long, hardly long enough to be allowed into the tightly knit circle shared between the two Demara's and the android, but it's almost like that didn't matter. Especially not to Billy.

Even before she was a member, it was like he had already decided she deserved his kindness. It was a sort of bright-eyed, literally, brand of naivete that infuriated her. How dare he be so nice to her? How dare he show such kindness to the thiren that was leading them to their deaths.

How dare he make her feel so guilty, when he- when the Hares'-

Except it wasn't really the Hares' that had killed Miguel in the end, was it?

It was PubSec. And every drop of guilt Nekomata had felt was well deserved.

"Nekomata-!"

Back in the present, nowhere near a Hollow this time, she remembers being bodily shoved aside. Remembers clearly the choked down sound of pain and the crunch of metal that happened all in the blink of an eye.

Billy stood tall in front of Nekomata, stance squared as the jaws of this- yellow mutilated construction vehicle clamped around his left arm. It shook with the effort of keeping the thing from throwing him around like a chew toy- but he didn't falter.

"Kitty- you okay?" the android calls over his shoulder, his voice tight with strain and worry, "I didn't push you too hard, did I?"

"M-Me? What about you-?"

At worst her palms were a bit scraped up from hitting the asphalt, but that was more a result of the thiren's instinctual flailing than his protective insert. And he was the one in the jaws of the beast! Literally!

Care about yourself first, dummy-! Nekomata thinks venomously, shooting up to her paws as the mechanical thingamajig nearly throws her new teammate to the ground. She doesn't know what she was planning on doing, exactly, but Billy takes the decision out of her hands anyway.

He lines up a shot, somewhere between the shoulder and the armpit, and fires!

The bullet pierces the joint in a clean arc, and removes the limb with a sharp 'ting!' and a 'thud!' as it hits the concrete! It's jaws- is it the jaws? It looks more like a hand now that Nekomata isn't fearing for her life- they don't release Billy's arm until he's been nearly dragged to the floor with it.

Foolishly, the thiren had been hoping that the crunch of metal she heard was the teeth breaking on the android's build.

It wasn't.

It most definitely wasn't.

The plates of the android's arm tear like butter under the drag- ripping his red sleeve to ribbons and causing sparks to fly in firework-esque bursts. Billy brings his other hand up to one of the deeply bit teeth and tries to wrench it out without causing more damage.

Nekomata leaps to help, finally shaken out of her stupor by a startled mip of pain that Billy looses when one of the clamps catches on some wiring.

"Wait- Nekomata, your hands-"

Ah- right, the scrapes. She'd honestly forgotten about them, her gloves had absorbed most of the damage, after all- even if they'd been torn to shreds in the process.

The android tries to gently guide her hands away by the wrists, but Nekomata bullies her way closer with a hiss.

A familiar rush of anger clouds her head. His damn- friendliness. Why couldn't he just be mean?

"Billy, your arm," the thiren snaps back, tails lashing to better show her infuriation, "What're you worrying about me for, huh!? Look at you!"

"Wh- huh? But I'm fine," he exclaims, like a liar, "This can be fixed no problem! You can't!"

"That's not the point, dummy!"

Seriously! Not! The! Point! Nekomata punctuates each thought with a bap to his fluffy hair. How dare he! How. Dare. He! How dare he imply his injuries mattered any less! The nerve!

...huh. It was surprisingly soft.

Before she even realizes what she's doing, her hand simply- ruffles it from side to side. The android sputters in confusion under her ministrations.

"Nekomata!?"

"Shut up!"

Billy shuts up.

The two stay there in silence for a few more minutes, and eventually the thiren moves back to help him free what's left of his arm. He doesn't push her away this time, even though he's clearly not happy with the agitation of her scrapes.

He could be missing a limb- and he's worried about her. Her, who hasn't even been a member of the Hares' a full three months!

Stupid, big hearted, stupid android.

"You know," Nekomata starts, even though she doesn't really know where she's going with this, she just wants him to get it already, "it doesn't matter that you can be put together again. It still happened."

Billy stills under her hands with a surprised little noise, but she just tightens her grip and barrels on.

"You'll still remember it happened."

The last clamp finally gets pulled free, but it snips right through a wire on it's way out, and the android bites back a yelp as he stumbles forward. Nekomata is quick to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hold tight- half to keep him upright and half to keep him close.

"So please," she begs, burying her face into his jacket collar, "Please don't pretend that it didn't."

She can feel him jolt in her impromptu hug, and for a terrifying moment she's scared he might pull away and brush it all off again, the thiren couldn't really stop him if he truly wanted to- but Billy just brings his arm up to hug Nekomata back.

His grip is so unbelievably soft- feeble.

"...okay." he says, not a promise but an acknowledgement, "okay."

[tennessoui]

Jesus shitting christ, I just finished ch 6 of weeding out our wildfires, and how is it that every time I think things cannot possibly get any more heartwrenching, there come lines like 'that love that surpasses mother and wife and freedom itself—it is not enough' holy fuck. YOUR WRITING IS SO. FUCKING. GOOD. I am crawling out of my own skin for Anakin's sake, holy shit. (God, he really will never be normal about that old man. AND I LOVE IT.)

Also I just. I read the fic last night and hours later I'm still orbiting around this line: Yeah, alright, swee—yeah, okay, Obi-Wan

THE ABORTED TENDERNESS. THE WAY MY HEART SKIPPED A BEAT AS ANAKIN CUT HIMSELF OFF. GOD. HELP. The way Anakin uses endearments (in your fic in general, and in this line specifically) makes me FERAL. I don't - i can't even describe why or how, just that it's so tastydelicious for my brain and every time it happens I get the very real urge to start chewing on concrete.

ALL OF THIS to say, holy fucking shit, thank you so much for sharing your writing! Your stories are incredible and it is such a joy to read them (including when I'm drowning in my own tears).

hello im so sorry for answering this ask late (aka after i posted chapter 7) BUT thank you so much for this i loved reading this ask (and i did multiple times) and it made me want to write chapter 8 that much faster

thank you for noticing all these things and loving them!! to talk only about one, yes!! anakin almost called obi-wan sweetheart and then i hope no one recovered

BECAUSE he choked on it!! and because he thinks (in chapter 6) that he can never truly label obi-wan as anything but 'master ' and 'obi-wan' so how can he possible say sweetheart??

i obviously love anakin calling obi-wan any number of pet names but i don't think we've spent enough time thinking about anakin feeling as if the ONLY pet name/nickname he is allowed to give to obi-wan is 'master'. it's like. either master or obi-wan? nah. we can do better.

like the consolidation of everything he wants to call obi-wan down to only his name or his title or some half-bitten off endearment??? i could write essays about that i think

[itspyon]

https://www.tumblr.com/fooshogiexd/725508239538700288/the-way-dreams-voice-softens-when-he-asks-george?source=share This clip and this stream make me feel so crazy every single time - something about George wearing TWWTH merch, something about that feels so proud girlfriend who just got like 2 love songs publicly written about her, and i dont think we as a dnfcentric society appreciate that detail enough

THEY ARE SO ABNORMAL ABOUT EACH OTHER LIKE AGGHHHHH I'M GOING TO GO CHEW ON CONCRETE

[monomorphilogical]

Starved out at the table

haven't let anyone put their hands on me in a couple of years

I'm goddamn starved out and soaked through with tears

all scarred-tissued sweet — fucking starving for something to eat

grew up trying to stomp it out of me on fractured concrete

it was bloody and it was ugly like what they did to me

empty-bodied from all the love they tried to shove into me

and now the table's in front of me and I can't beat the hunger out

wondering why I still let every set of teeth gore me throughout

scared to look in the mirror and see how there's nothing left of me

all of my bones are slowly getting the best of me

so I took my handholding and left it with a piece of my morality

now it's out of reach and it still eats away at me

scared I've grown up some kind of wrong — macerated for too long

sitting here while all of my hunger cues grow some kind of strong

secretly praying for a mouth to lick the pain away

so I press bruises into my legs every guilt-ridden sunday

but it never works because when they fade I just forget again

and I'll let him — I always let them

I can't keep my fucking head on straight when he's looking at me

thinking of all the times he drove up passed the side of me

and if I want him in the way I said I'd never do

he'd have my hands around his neck and he knows it's true

and if he takes the parts of me he promised he would never take

I'd take his limbs and make sure there's nothing left to break

but when he said I’m sure you’re the type to take a hit I agreed

everybody knows I'll keep going even if it starts to bleed

anything could be enough to save me in the right light

he walked up to me in the late afternoon sun like such a sight

it's been too long since I got it and even longer since I wanted it

letting it eat at all the parts of me telling myself he started it

and I know he's just a cold fever — gold seeker with nothing to win

he drove up up like a sinner before it started to feel like a sin

yesterday through today until tomorrow drags on repeat

I made a fool of myself down on that street

'cause I'm lying through my teeth when I say that he can't have me

and I'm only acting this cool when he’s looking at me

telling him he couldn't make me do anything even if he wanted to

but my body's the same as the front door I let him walk through

he rumbles through all my transgressions and it drones

I couldn't help myself from letting it rattle through these bones

never knowing which way to go through an open doorway

— the hunger never goes away

and I came up empty when he put his hands all over me

his fingers in between my ribs like they'd would never stop me

it wasn't pretty like the movies — it was hungry like a body

how I swayed the wrong way and he caught me

and he told me I tasted like more — I know that's for sure

the honey on my tongue is slowly rotting my teeth and it's torture

but I knew damn well what I was getting myself into

there's not enough life left in me to pretend 'cause I always do

I'll chew holes in whatever's left — I'll go until there's nothing left

and I know I'm no good so why do I still want to be the best?

praying on my knees there's a heaven out there for me but I doubt it

there comes a point in life where you own up or you lie about it

and that time will come soon enough if I don't hold him off me

we're both fucking starved out and we're both going hungry

sitting at the table that he wants to put me through

I should've sewn my mouth shut back when I still I wanted to

and now I’m going hungry — and I’m unable

God knows tomorrow’s flies will start slowly dying on the table

[sheogorad]

you know i've got it bad when i come back to tumblr to rant about my fucking stupid baka life. i am just. i'm chewing and munching and crunching on my own limbs. i had therapy where i talked about [redacted] and that seemed to help it a bit. but i feel like a big stupid idiot that talks too much and lets too much info slip. i feel so vulnerable and i don't even get to be held and loved. i'm getting nearly all the anxiety and pain of being vulnerable and honest in love WITHOUT THE LOVE. i literally want to fucking choke myself out. i want to run into the woods and bite trees like a fucking beaver. i hate how much bigger he is than me because every time i think about it i feel like i'm going to die because i KNOW. i know. how good it would feel to be his little spoon. his hugs are already insanely good. they already make me feel small and held. i just lay here every single day. every single night. and just fucking Yearn bro. i just. imagine. being spooned. and i feel like crawling out of this 3rd story window so i land head first on the concrete. then i might be put out of my gay misery. i shouldn't have to suffer like this, during PRIDE MONTH. catching feelings is homophobic

[xkv8r]

Macro Aggron Day Stuff

Friend of mine on Discord has an Aggron/Corviknight hybrid character so because it's Aggron day and marco March, I wrote him being a collossal fatass and eating buildings. Contains Macro, fat, and object vore. Aprox 2600 words, esitmated reading time: 13 minutes.

Demolition isn't exactly exciting work for someone like Mint. One would think knocking down a building would normally be fun, but steel types were usually relegated to "processing" which meant he would be eating the concrete and rebar that was deemed too expensive to bother recycling. Most of the good steel would be cut out and recycled, Mint was there to serve as little more than a glorified trash compactor. Still, for a corviknight aggron hybrid who would normally need to stake out a large chunk of an iron rich mountain to sate their hunger, it wasn't a bad deal. Getting paid to eat was a much better job than most people ever got an opportunity at, so long as he brought his appetite, job security was assured, and Mint always brought his appetite.

Every hour or so, a front end loader would dump another pile of reinforced concrete in front of his trailer and Mint would happily chew through the stone to get at the delicious rebar inside. Even as old, dry, and tough as these condemned buildings were, the concrete still held a rich texture to it, and once one got past the rust, the inside of the steel rebar was still plenty sweet. The Corvaggron's beak had only slight trouble crunching through the stuff, but his stomach had no difficulty breaking it down. Giving his belly a few pats, Mint popped the next chunk of rubble into his beak and gulped it down whole, feeling the heavy clunk as it was deposited into the pit of his gut.

A few unintelligible shouts from the demolition site caught Mint's attention, and having cleaned his plate so to speak, he figured there was no harm in taking a walk. Heaving himself off the trailer and into the dirt with a heavy thud, Mint was once again reminded of the consequences of his job. A career of sedentary eating had left its mark around the Corvaggron's waistline, pudgy belly, stuffed with rubble, bulging far enough forward that he could see it below his chestplate. Even if old buildings were relatively low calorie, Mint had always been a big eater, and while steel types were not known for being light, Mint was certainly up there for his species, no doubt the result of many years of demolition work.

Approaching the site, Mint found the site foreman and a couple other workers in the now exposed basement, staring at half a dozen black 55 gallon drums, one of which had been opened. The foreman was swearing up a storm and shouting angrily into a cell phone before slamming it back into a carrying case and turning to the other two workers. "What do they think we are, a brownstone cleanup operation? It's gonna take months for us to get the permits to deal with this!" The other two workers avert their gaze from their furious boss and try to avoid provoking him further before one of them spots Mint and gets an idea.

"Hey, why don't we see if the big guy can deal with it?" The other two give him puzzled looks before he elaborates on his plan, "The Corvaggron, he eats basically anything, right? He can probably drink the oil, we don't have to worry about getting a permit, and we're back on schedule." The foreman thinks for a moment before relenting with a sigh and a shrug. "Fine, bring him one and see if he eats it, I'm gonna go make some more calls." He says before walking off.

The two workers load up the open barrel into a handcart and wheel it over to Mint, who gives the contents a few experimental sniffs before shrugging and picking up the whole drum. The heavy liquid sloshes around inside and he has to adjust his grip on the drum a few times before tipping it back into his open maw. Thick, black, and surprisingly sweet oil pours from the barrel, which Mint happily chugs down, each gulp causing his dark blue underbelly to swell outward and hang low on his frame forcing his stance outward a bit to accommodate the his rapidly distending stomach, and pushing his armored chestplate into his neck ruff a bit. Each swallow packs away more than a gallon of the liquid, slowly but surely emptying the drum into his gut. When the last drops spill from the drum, Mint is bloated heavily and panting from exertion even as he licks the last drops of sweet crude from his beak.

The two workers look relieved at this development, thankful that they have a way to dispose of the problematic waste, but with five other drums stacked up and awaiting disposal, Mint has his work cut out for him. He turns the empty barrel sideways, crushing it like a soda can before biting through it like a cookie, scarfing down the flat metal disk in a pair of massive chomps before waddling forward to the remaining barrels while the workers roll another towards him. The second drum goes down as easily as the first, Mint simply lifts it over his head and lets the oil glug out of the barrel and into his open beak. One of the two workers gives Mint's heavy, swollen stomach a hearty slap in celebration, letting a few bubbles of air tumble out of his maw as a deep, resonant belch. "Alright big guy, you polish those off, we're going on break." The pair of workers walk off in the direction of the foreman, looking immensely pleased with themselves for having resolved the problem.

Meanwhile, Mint is left trying to chug drum after drum, panting and belching as his stomach distends into a sphere, clutching his belly with one claw while tipping back a drum with the other. Ominous metallic creaking echoes from his armored plates as Mint tries valiantly to complete his task, having gorged himself to the bursting point. It's when Mint starts to feel as if he can't take another drop that the sensation of fullness suddenly starts to abate. Shrugging at his newfound capacity, Mint makes his way back to the half demolished building at the center of his jobsite, a barrel under each arm, somewhat surprised to find his hips brush against the sides of doorway, and that he has to duck his head to avoid whacking his horns.

Returning to his job of devouring the rubble, the first few chunks of reinforced concrete slip effortlessly down Mint's lubricated throat, splashing into the pool of oil in his belly. He alternates between sipping from a drum and biting off bits of building, chomping through steel girders and gulping down gallons of crude with equal voracity. His hybrid metabolism works quickly, digesting the rubble almost as fast as Mint can cram it in. If not for the fact that he was completely engrossed in his meal, Mint might have seen that he was steadily growing bigger, rounder, and even taller, but the ravenous need to consume more and more is so distracting that even when his horns bump into the floor above him, Mint hardly notices.

A chunk of rubble tumbles loose from the ceiling above, smacking into Mint's belly, but fails to even scratch the thick armored plates of his torso, succeeding only in knocking loose a rumbling belch from his swollen stomach. Mint rips steadily larger and larger pieces out of the building, scarfing them down with reckless abandon, tearing the dilapidated structure asunder with each bite. As quickly as he clears the area around himself of metal and concrete, his body, and his reach grow in kind, letting him engage in further acts of unrestrained gluttony without even having to stand. Sat on his widening rump, Mint eats away every last bit of structural integrity the building has, letting it collapse into a pile that he scoops into his greedy maw.

Soon, all that remains of the building is a concrete pad, picked clean of everything save for a few pieces of bent rebar protruding at odd angles, and a bloated, gigantic Corvaggron, easily three times the size he was this morning. Mint heaves himself back up onto his feet, feeling the rubble grind and clunk together inside his gut before giving the misshapen mass a hearty pat and letting out a low belch. Despite having devoured a whole building, the sudden growth has only left Mint feeling even hungrier than before and he waddles off, looking for more to eat, stomach swaying with the weight of a building, each ponderous step leaving marks in the earth where his mass has packed the dirt flat.

Mint doesn't even make it to the road when his hunger strikes again, lifting a car off the side of the street and folding it in half, glass shattering and metal squealing before shoving it into his maw and taking bite out of the crushed heap of metal like a massive hamburger. In seconds, the crushed sedan is devoured and Mint is already eyeing his next snack. He grabs hold of another car, rolling it up before stuffing the compacted automobile into the open back of a construction van to make the metallic equivalent of a burrito. Mint takes massive bites out of his latest creation, letting leaking fuel dribble down his chin as he crams the crushed cars into his stomach. Before long, he is licking spilled gasoline off of his claws as he savors his meal. Mint belches out a few scraps of rubber tire, the release of air causing his gut to clamp down like a car compactor on its contents, crushing the twisted wrecks into a tight ball, belly echoing with the sounds of squealing and creaking.

By now, there is panic in the streets as everyone watches the building sized hybrid devour entire cars whole. Dozens of vehicles, abandoned by their drivers line the street, leaving behind a veritable buffet for Mint. Whatever isn't crushed flat under his ponderous footsteps or plowed into the trench left by his belly dragging along the ground quickly finds itself vanishing down his throat. Spotting a tanker truck amid the pileup, Mint lifts it out of the road, giving the tank a gentle shake to confirm the presence of liquid within before extending a claw, and effortlessly piercing a hole in the tank. Black gold pours from the truck by the ton, and the lumpy shapes of wrecked cars in his belly quickly soften and vanish as oil floods the pit of his stomach. By the time Mint has polished off the contents of the tanker truck, he has grown tall enough to see over the tops of all but the tallest of skyscrapers, and his doughy gut is too big to let him waddle down even the widest of roads without knocking down buildings.

Undeterred by the prospect of having to wade through buildings, Mint gets to work eating his way out of the city, ripping off chunks of skyscraper and shoveling them into his maw. To him, the city is one big buffet, and Mint has every intention of glutting himself on every delicacy it offers. Massive tail wagging back and forth, cutting down buildings like grain before a scythe, belly oozing into the streets and pancaking anything unlucky enough to be unable to get out of the way. Claws crushing concrete like it was chalk, nothing is spared Mint's relentless destructive appetite, anything that doesn't make it to his stomach is buried beneath the mountainous hybrid's ever expanding body.

Mint had almost made his way to the city outskirts when he spots another prospective meal, a cargo train barreling along the tracks, unaware of the danger until it is far too late. The train turns a corner to spot Mint, laying on the tracks, maw open wide, the operator slams on the brakes, but it's impossible to stop that much train that quickly, unless you are, of course, Mint's stomach. The train careens into his open maw, inertia forcing it deep into his belly. The cacophony of squealing brakes and crushing metal only serves as a dinner bell for mint as he greedily gulps down the train cars like sausage links, savoring the delectable flavors of all the different cargo. Half the train was still outside the Corvaggron when it stops pushing its way in on its own, but that does little to deter Mint, who simply starts to slurp down the remaining cars one by one, rubbing his belly as they coil up inside his stomach. Hauling himself back into a sitting position, Mint runs his talons over the blocky shapes of train cars that push outward against their prison, feeling his stomach compact them into a ball as he swallows the caboose whole. A deafening belch, many times louder than the train's horn was serves as a fitting epitaph for the doomed locomotive, and a sign for Mint to keep moving, knowing that even this won't sate his hunger for long.

Despite his slow, ponderous waddling, at his new size it takes Mint mere minutes to leave the city proper. Following his nose out and away from the more populated areas, the smell of more oil carries him towards more sparsely populated areas. The houses out here are mostly wood, and so small now that Mint barely notices when he crushes one flat underfoot. With each step, the scent of distant oil grows more powerful, as heavy and dark as the belly it will no doubt soon be filling. Mint is drooling at the smell, stomach grumbling at the thought of drinking his fill. The empty fields around here are totally barren of the metal he has grown used to being able to snack endlessly on, and Mint is left to waddle as fast as he can in the direction of the smell that has him enthralled. His feet press deep into the soft earth, and his belly dragging along the ground leaves a massive trench in his wake, but Mint is persistent, and this persistence is rewarded when he spots the drilling rig towers in the distance.

Breaking into as much of a sprint as the flabby colossus can, Mint makes a mad dash in that direction. Spotting a field of pumpjacks all working in unison to drain the oil field below his feet, Mint unceremoniously rips the head off one of the wells, and a dark geyser shoots out for a few seconds before Mint clamps his metallic beak down on the flow. The pressure is so high, he doesn't even have to swallow, the heavy liquid is simply forced into his stomach by the ton. Mint takes the opportunity to lie down on his belly and get as comfortable as possible, mindlessly gorging himself on the thick black bounty, even as his stomach bloats out far enough to lift his legs off the ground. Face pressed against the well by his rapidly expanding body, a distant part of his brain recognizes the tingling of clouds blowing against his taut hide, nearly spherical from the incredible volume of delicious oil. Every minute, more is forced inside his creaking belly, expanding outwards in every direction to contain the dense, sweet liquid. Mint is a veritable ocean of dark, armor plated blubber, engulfing everything around him at a steadily increasing pace, far and away the biggest single thing on the planet and still getting bigger.

[cherryslyce]

I’m gonna punch the SUN. I’m gonna chew on CONCRETE. I’m gonna howl at the MOON I am going FERAL over here Cherry!!!!

Every single word of this chapter had me vibrating in my seat I am going into hyperdrive over here!!!!!

My Reggie boy is so perfect and wonderful and the loml omgggg. Like we thought he was sweet as a portrait???? And now full body Reg is literally just a cat the way he practically drapes himself over the reader at any given moment. They’re in love your honour!!!

Leaving Asger and Anders was v bittersweet, I’m going to miss their dry humour and their reluctant fondness for the reader and Luna but I’m v v happy to know that they’re on their way to healing from the loss of their mother/wife. Again the parallels between Anders and the reader was great to see and I’ve always been a sucker for the grumpy old man/adopted child that they would die for lol

And at last!!!! The man, the myth, the legend Sirius Black is back everyone!!! And his single brain cell is working on OVERDRIVE atm I love him sm. The way he was so excited to see his pup that he didn’t even compute that his DECEASED BROTHER was stood next to him had me screaming like he’s trying his best just give him a minute shdjdjd

Honestly I couldn’t tell you how many times I screamed while reading this chapter, the way you smothered us with fluff while also keeping the stakes high is just amazing and now that the gang is all back together I’m so excited to see what’s to come. Thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece as always <3

My dear, custard (my very affectionate nickname for you)!!! I will not lie, I have been waiting with bated breath for your message because they always give me LIFE. Truly, you give me so much motivation and I always feel honored by the love you give me <333!! I will say that Reggie is only going to get cuter from here on out !!

Also, YES, Regulus is such a black cat omg <33. They are indeed in love! They're just dancing around the words now haha.

I honestly didn't expect myself to grow so attached to Anders & Asger / the whole Norway arc in general. It is definitely bittersweet, and the parallels kill me too !! They all really needed each other in the end, and even though they're separated now, they will hold each other dear in their hearts for the rest of their lives (canon, because I said so <3).

Also LOL, Sirius and his tunnel vision for his pup <333. He really was just an anxious mess after reader never turned up after the wedding attack. But his poor heart, first reader swoops back into his life, and then his supposedly dead brother magically appears! Yeah, the man is going to have the time of his life next chapter.

The gang is reunited and better than ever <33! I am already elbow-deep into writing the next chapter which I hope to finish by tomorrow (can you tell I'm as excited as everyone else?)

Thank you endlessly for your kind messages, my love <3!! You are truly one of my favorite people on this site, and I always find myself wondering what you'll think about certain scenes amidst my writing process LOL. I hope you enjoy what's to come, dear <333!

[butimnotasexyrussian]

1, 2, 7, 13, 18, 27, and 30. :D

So it turns out that I can only access my inbox from mobile because when I log in through desktop, Tumblr still says I have no asks, which is so fucking annoying but we're making do.

Anyway.

From the unique writing asks post:

1. What themes would you like to write about that you feel don't get explored very often?

I think it's the nature of fanfic that most people that stumble across stuff I've written are looking for romantic pairings, which is great because if I've written for them, it means their dynamic makes me want to chew concrete and I love being able to share that with readers! But as someone on the ace/aro spectrum (we're still figuring this out), I think it would be really interesting to explore themes of asexuality and/or aromanticism through characters in a respectful and meaningful way. I don't think I'm at the point in my personal development where I can do that quite yet, but I'd love to some day.

2. What are some common elements of stories you are tired of seeing? What would you avoid writing about?

This one's a tough one because I'm genuinely pretty open to whatever. Like whenever I'm like, hmm don't think I like that, something will come up and inevitably prove me wrong. I didn't think I'd ever be into cheating, but then there's like every canon Roisa fic ever. Also Rose being Luisa's stepmother is still weird but hasn't stopped me.

Oh, one trope I do hate though is magic babies. I spend most of my time in wlw fics and while I'm fine with adoption fics, I hate it when someone in a wlw couple magically ends up pregnant and everyone's weirdly happy about this and no one is freaking out about it. It just doesn't do it for me. It's a huge commitment and the fact that a biological baby is like the "next step" to fulfillment in their relationship and doesn't strain it at all is so icky to me.

7. Favorite description in your wip?

I am literally so bad at descriptions but please enjoy this brief excerpt from my gap princess diaries 2 au I haven't updated in a year lol.

Mon fidgets for a bit before Sam takes off her suit coat and drapes it around her shoulders.

"Oh," Mon says. Sam's wearing suspenders and that distracts her. It takes her a while to remember to say, "Thank you."

"You looked cold."

She was not cold. It's actually a pretty mild night. Mon does not mention this as she pulls the coat tighter around herself. It smells fresh, vaguely like saltwater air.

13. What traits do you share with your original characters or what traits do you wish you shared with them?

I think whenever I do end up writing original characters, they're always like plucky sidekicks who are only there to give the protagonists a kick in the ass. I'd like to be able to not overthink as much and just see the situation clearly and tell it to people as bluntly as my OC's seem to.

18. What writers have inspired you with their use of language? What are some of your favorite quotes?

It's been so long since I've read anything so my mind is blanking right now, but I'm always amazed by how much feeling poets can put into their words. I remember sobbing throughout Ocean Vuong's On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous. The older I get, the more I identify with everything Mary Oliver has written ever. My mentally ill boy Kafka is always a mood. I wish I could remember anything any of these people have ever written but I have nothing but dryer fluff in my head. I'm sorry.

27. Do you have playlists for your wip? What are some of the songs in it?

Sorry, I usually don't have playlists for writing! I should actually start though because it has gotten me over writer's block a couple times, but for the most part, I just play whatever song I'm currently obsessed with. My ADHD means that I tune the lyrics out and I'm just vibing with the beat, although if I loop a song enough times while writing, every time I hear that song afterwards, I'll always associate it with the process of writing that fic, which is pretty cool. I don't think I've written anything over the past twelve months, but my current song on repeat is Animal by VEAUX if you wanna check it out!

30. What is some of the best writing advice you've read or received? Why does it work for you?

The thing about advice for me is that I'm always seeking it out and hoarding it like wow, I bet this would work for me and then...not doing anything to implement it. One thing I did end up using though, is from a Tumblr post that was like, "order everything in your sentences the way a movie scene would play out so the emotional punch comes at the end, like she came into the kitchen, saw the creeping puddle of blood, and discovered her brother's body." I'm paraphrasing obviously because no one can find anything on this hellsite, but this really made me realize that I kinda just threw everything together and hoped it made sense (once again, probably due a little bit to the ADHD). I'm not sure if anyone's even noticed, but I like to think it's made my writing a bit more coherent and easier to follow.

Thanks for asking! I'm love you!

[direwombat]

💭

was having some trouble figuring out a way scenario with esther and syb, so have some augustine instead

Augustine knew about the woman in the bunker; Joseph hadn't bothered to hide that from him. But the way he refuses to say who he's hiding down there does strike Augustine as odd.

She must be a Sinner, he assumes. She must be critical to the Resistance. She must be a threat. Because why else would Joseph hold someone against her will like this?

He knows he shouldn't question the Father like this, but he can't help but wonder.

And curiosity isn't a sin... So, when one of the normal food bringers falls ill, Augustine eagerly volunteers to fulfill that particular duty.

But when he slides the key into the lock and opens the heavy steel door, the last person he expects to see is Esther.

John's wife.

A petite and friendly woman who he's known to be nothing but warm and gentle and kind every time he's had the pleasure of having a brief conversation with her. She's the kind of woman who helps spiders out of the house with paper and cup rather than killing it.

And in her arms is a small child.

The door slams shut behind him with a solid thunk and the sound jolts him from his stupor so harshly that he nearly drops the food tray.

She stares at him -- once bright eyes now dull and sunken -- and she angles her body to shield her child. Her brows knit together, tense and confused. "I know you," she says quietly, but obviously troubled at being unable to place him. "Who are you."

"My name is Augustine," he says. "La Roux. I was a Ranger. I live in -- I lived in Falls End." I've seen you around town.

Her eyes go wide and he gasps. "Your sister is a Deputy!" She rushes towards him, her long skirt billowing as her bare feet slap against the concrete floor. "Please, you have to tell her I'm here. You have to --" She cuts herself off when she notices the Edens Gate cross on his sweater and she stops in her tracks, shrinking back. The flash of hope that illuminated her eyes is swiftly snuffed out. "Please," she whispers. "You have to tell John I'm here. Please."

Uncertainty gnaws at his stomach, and something darker chews away at his heart. This isn't right, is his first thought. But he steels himself, and turns to place the tray of food on what must be serving as a kitchen table.

She must be down here for a reason, he thinks. This has to be for her own good. Even if she doesn't realize it. The Father would never hurt a member of his family.

But as he looks back at her, he catches sight of the babe in her arms and feels sick to his stomach. Guiltily, he says: "I'll see if I can find some paper and crayons for the little one." He may not be able to offer these poor souls much, but he knows that the Project's beekeepers and artists should be able to help bring a little bit of joy to the cold of this bunker.

A child deserves more color than what this bleak place has to offer.

[faunagrotesque]

Msg me if you want to play Yu-Gi-Oh duel links or send me money so I can get my phone replaced, it has a cracked screen. The city of Tulsa is using the homeless as guinea pigs for psychological experiments, I know because I've been apart of it for a year and it gets worse the more I talk about it. My phones are always being monitored I know because I purposely do things to prove it every day. The idea is to chew people and spit them out, milk them for what they're worth for mindfuckery and just let the problems take care of themselves (either they die or go to prison before they can expose the largescale inhumane psychological experimention that's designed to be unbelievable in the first place so normie wagecucks will think you're crazy for talking about it anyway) Anyway it's fucking excruciatingly terrible and exhausting and I am accepting donations or helicopter rides out of here before it all explodes because this city is on the tipping point of civil war and I'm purposely forcing the world government to either disappear me or leave me alone after giving me free housing and a monthly check of at least a thousand dollars, by the way QuikTrip is also involved in the downtown Tulsa psychic war that I'm both a pawn and a king in, and I know when and why birds are going to make different sounds because I learned how to communicate with them a few months ago while I was high on dxm and meth, also I know when a vehicle blocks away is going to make different sounds and why because I discovered that cities are living organisms you can communicate with after a witch injected me with a bunch of meth which is one of the reasons I'm being gangstalked and experimented on by bad actors, I'm too powerful and I talk about my powers and teach people about what's going on in Tulsa and afaik the rest of the world. Anyway I tapped into the rhythm of the universe after smoking an eight ball and now I know how to program birds and communicate with sign posts and sewer grates, by the way don't go to church because they are all run by satanic spiritual vampires and we are all really living in a hellish world being demolished on the spiritual plane by demonic forces; the physical plane is an illusion crafted by the demiurge and the world is under the control of Satan who by the way is responsible for the death of not only christ but any human or life on earth that threatens his rule, it's all part of a larger human extinction eugenics plan that I don't even have to explain because it's all gotten so ridiculous to the point that local news channels can just run commercials for a testosterone boosting supplement called eugenics with an all white rich suburbanite cast and no one questions it. By the way global warming has been intentional this entire time; it turns out that when you stick a piece of metal in a furnace it absorbs and reflects the heat (it's a car analogy; when you cover the whole world in concrete and fill that world with chunks of metal which you can call cars, the entire world becomes a convection oven and then all the ice caps melt after the oceans boil) I know and can mime what people are going to say even with my back turned to them, this extends to music I've never heard before and live tv broadcasts. I had alien knowledge downloaded to my brain while high on acid and I have uploaded my consciousness to the power grid while high on dxm and nitrous oxide. Drugs are illegal because they allow people to supercharge their brains and realize modes of perception that make them ungovernable. The world is run by evil masonic demons who use witchcraft to trick people into thinking a good day is having money in your pocket while the earth is completely devoid of nutrients and there's cancer in the air. The world is run from the top down by ai and the electrical grid is run by people who are all either retarded or evil or both. I know how to make a car two blocks away go beep beep whenever I feel like it and I know that ai is accelerating to the point that the world can be programmed in realtime like it's a video game

[bread-gobgob]

Last of all, before I log out, here are a few more short things I wrote in my journal. Most of these were written during meltdowns.

17/05/23 "When first I lost my earphones, I was terrified of the noises that would come for me. What obnoxious truck would scare me, what screaming child would make me cry?

But the longer I went without them, without the money to make them new, I found that some noises could be beautiful. Twiddling birds and my steps on concrete, I'd no idea the world was gentle."

19/06/23 "Like a mother bird, you would vomit yourself to me and I would eat whatever you had to spare. I would attempt to sculpt myself new from the things that you had purged from your own being, like shed skin cells after a shower.

I did not know how to chew. I did not know how to speak. I could not handle the tenderness of sweet, fresh oxygen. I could not handle a world where you did not dumb everything down for me. Where you did not process every sensation for me. Where you did not explain every little detail.

And then I was reborn. And I was new. And I was without my God. And without my God what was I? Not yours, anymore. But instead, mine.

Four years of belonging and now I was no one's but my own, free to think and know and seek."

10/07/23 "Like I have lived you have not. Lie there and rot. Decay is forming from the death of all the lives you never lived."

08/10/23 "Remember that one time Oblivion hurt you real bad and you were crying while they tried to talk to you about it? And, out loud, through tears, you said: "why can't you just say sorry?" And they sent you a message saying, "I'm sorry okay?" And you thought they could read your mind? Remember how quickly you forgave them? Remember how bad what they did hurt but how good it felt to forgive them? Remember how the forgiveness washed the badness away?"

01/11/23 "The week is still young! Our separation is not."

18/11/23 "I feel like I will not feel peace over you until I am dead. I miss you. I wish you could see the person I've become but you have lost that right. I hate you for all you did. I miss you so much for it. If I had just stayed quiet and been a good girl would you still be here? Would you still love me?"

[catsonthewindowsill]

sisyphean task contemplation

being obnoxious and pretentious on social media is a rite of passage which I have long endured thrice over (at my own hands no less). but I still feel like writing about my life rn to my audience of four (plus minus a few) risking cringe and embarrassment for my art. or mental health. I've been working on one big no-fun-very-serious project for more than a year now, mostly because I put it off and had crisis after crisis which has resulted in some pretty serious mental health issues (any acronym you can think of...my shitty little brain has at least sampled) that have kept me from having fun. within the next two/three weeks my last hard deadline is coming up so I should be able to shed a little weight at least but I'm still struggling to complete currently. Working on it every day feels never-ending and also the amount of work that still needs doing appears to be growing. unfortunately, this time sunk-cost is no fallacy and I really just have to make it happen. the worst part is the feeling of what will come after. it's sort of looming over me that the future is so uncertain and that the things I want are so out of my reach.

this project has seriously impeded my ability to write for fun too, every look at my computer makes me feel guilty when I don't use it for the project and each one of my works has been in limbo. I think of mnlx often (and therefore mnchnlx) and chnlix...(someone come hold my hand)

I wanna talk about the frankly stellar snglix dynamic I have cooked up, the way in which chn is introduced and the shoes innie wears but I find it so hard to open up a half (quarter, micro percentage) done project and look at it with fresh eyes and conjure up any motivation. I want my brain as free as possible to write as much as possible, there are stories I want to tell, that have been eating away at me for more than a year. really fun projects for someone who isn't so depressed that they can't find joy in their most treasured hobby. instead, I'm all burnt out, in every facet of life. just chewing concrete every day like a strange hamster. sorry I haven't been able to post anything my sisyphean task is literally living every day.

[metalbuckaroo]

Birthday to Remember

SUMMARY// After being pulled along to a strip club by your friends on your birthday, you end up leaving with some company.

WARNINGS// smut, oral (f receiving), kinda corruption kink, pussyjob, cursing, mentions of tobacco and alcohol use

AU// Stripper!Bucky x Innocent!Readee

AN// Requests and asks are always open, 18+ ONLY Minors DNI

Masterlist

Moodboard by// @commonintrest Dividers by// @skylightlantern

The last thing you wanted on your birthday was for your friends to drag you to a strip club. You felt awkward and out of place walking amongst the room full of half naked men and drinking customers.

"This just feels weird." You sighed, following your three friends towards the bar that was in the corner. "We'll get one of those private rooms they have here for parties and a beefy man. It will be a birthday to remember, c'mon." One of them grinned.

You pitched in on the drinks and a private room, one of the men walking in right after you. Dark, chin length hair and a sweet smile that nearly distracted from the tight leather shorts that left little to the imagination.

You spent most of the time staring down into your glass, having to silently remind yourself you were suppose be having fun as your friends cheered and giggled as they stuffed bills into the waistband of the man's shorts; whose named you learned was Bucky.

You weren't really paying attention to what he was doing. More to the way the silvery metal of his arm gleamed under the dimmed lights and where metal met flesh at the base of his shoulder.

Wondering how he got it or if he could feel when someone touched it, rather than thinking of the smooth way his body moved.

One of your friends said something to him that you couldn't quite make out. Bucky nodding and looking over at you with a half smile.

"Want the birthday special?" He asked, moving to stand in front of you. Your face warmed at his words and you swallowed thickly, shaking your head. "No, it's fine."

"Oh, come on. Don't be a prude." One of the three girls groaned, poking one of your crossed legs.

Wetting your lips, you glanced up at Bucky who looked at you with welcoming eyes. "Yeah, okay." You nodded.

Your stomach flipped when he took the drink from your hands, handing it to your friend before the cool metal of his left hand nudged at your knee for you to uncross your legs.

Bucky placed his hands on the back of the couch, your shoulders trapped between metal and flesh as he leaned down to talk in your ear. "If you're uncomfortable with anything, just pinch me."

You gave another nod and he smiled, flashing his pearly whites as he leaned his knees against the edge of the plush cushion on either side of yours.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest when he tugged at the laces of the shorts to loosen them before taking your hands in his.

Bucky was eating up every reaction you gave. The way you chewed your bottom lip as he guided your hands along the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen, your fingers feeling every dip in the smooth skin and grazing over the barbells that pierced through his nipples.

He especially liked the way you weren't trying to rush his hands to go under his shorts; letting him be in full control.

Your eyes went wide when he stopped your hands at the waistband of the leather, the sound of your heart beating and blood rushing in your ears almost drowning out the sound of your friends giggling and squealing.

And the sound of the door opening.

"Buck, you've got a set." Another man said from the doorway. "I'm in the middle of a session." Bucky huffed, looking over his shoulder but not moving your hands. "Cap is gonna fill in."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Bucky finally let go of your hands, but his close proximity wasn't letting your body relax just yet as he leaned to peck a kiss to your cheek. "Happy birthday." He chuckled before standing.

A broad blonde took his place, this one letting you sit in peace and stare into you half empty glass.

"I'm gonna head home." You exhaled, glancing at the happy looks on your friend's faces. "Fine, buzz kill." One of them muttered.

Pushing through the crowded club, you pushed the heavy metal door open. Bucky was leaned against the concrete wall of the building not far from the door, now in a pair of sweats and a hoodie as he smoked a cigarette.

"The birthday girl." He grinned, blue eyes meeting yours as you stepped closer. "Want one?" He asked, holding the cigarette out towards you. "Uh, no. Thanks."

"Listen-" he cleared his throat, pushing away from the wall to stand in front of you. "I can find someone to cover for me if you need some company on your walk home." He offered before bringing the cigarette to his lips.

"I'll be fine, I'm not too far." You shrugged, looking to the sidewalk. "You can't walk alone, it's one in the morning." Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "That's different than walking with a stranger?"

His tongue jutted out across his bottom lip, eyebrows twitching upwards. "Well- I was about five seconds away from putting your hand in my shorts around thirty minutes ago. I think I'm a little better than a stranger." He teased, leaning forward slightly. "Besides, your friends kinda seem like assholes."

He wasn't wrong. They were sometimes pushy, telling you to loosen up a little and dragging you along with them to places where you felt out of place.

"Ok, fine." You exhaled. Bucky cracked a smile and dropped his cigarette, stomping it out under his shoe. "Let me get my stuff, just wait here for a second." He said, brushing his fingers to your forearm.

"Thanks, for walking with me." You said as you unlocked your front door. "This isn't the worst side of town but it's not the best either." Bucky said with a small laugh.

"I forgot to tip you, by the w-" his warm hand stopped yours from digging in your wallet, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. Just- invite me in for a drink." He shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes at him, cocking your head to the side. "You're not a creep, are you?"

Bucky laughed, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "No, just don't want a pretty girl to spend her birthday alone. Plus, I had someone take over my shift."

"Well, my apartment is dry. So, you're out of luck on that drink." You smiled, opening the door to walk into the small studio apartment. "That's fair."

Bucky was good company as the two of you sat on the couch in your living room, telling you funny stories about his time working at the club and listening intently to anything you said. The lighting in your apartment made his eyes even more blue than you'd noticed earlier and his features look sharper, framed by his dark locks.

Over the last couple of hours he had slowly moved his way closer to you. Close enough that you could smell his woodsy cologne mixed in with the scent of cigarettes, his metal arm resting on the back of the couch as his right hand would occasionally brush against you when he'd talk.

"You're cute, like a bunny." He said with a small laugh, making your face heat up. "Thanks, I guess?" You mumbled, chewing your tongue as he lifted his hand to your cheek.

He hummed in response, leaning closer until his lips brushed yours and your breathing hitched.

You pressed a hand against his chest and leaned away slightly. "I've never..." You trailed off, hoping he'd get the point. "I figured that much. Can go as far as you want, or we don't have to at all."

"How many girls have you said that to?" You silently cursed yourself for saying it as soon as you did, biting down on the inside of your cheek. He just chuckled and brushed his thumb over the tip of your nose. "I'm more of a long term guy. Pretty sure I can count who I've slept with on one hand."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." You said quietly, pulling at a string on the seam of your jeans. "I know." Bucky said before slotting his lips over yours, the kiss gentle and sweet.

The taste of cigarettes and mint gum flooded your tastebuds when his tongue slipped past your lips to press into yours, the softness of his plump lips contrasting the scratch of his stubble.

Bucky just felt so welcoming, his touches cautious to wait for you to stop him as his hand moved from your cheek. Fingers ghosting down the side of your neck to leave goosebumps in their wake, along the buttons of your blouse and finally stopping to wedge between your thighs.

He pulled away, leaving your breathless as you blinked your eyes open to meet his lust filled blue ones. "Remember to pinch me if anything makes you uncomfortable." He teased, pecking a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Things were moving fast, clothes quickly discarded on the path from the couch to your bed. Bucky's hands and lips only parting from you long enough to rid another clothing item that shielded his skin from yours until all that stood in his way was your underwear and his leather shorts.

You weren't sure if it was the head rush from only knowing Bucky for a few hours after holding out for so long, or the way his darkened eyes looked you over as he bent his body over yours.

"You're so beautiful." He breathed, leaving a brisk kiss to your lips before trailing wet kisses down your neck and chest.

Your hands gripped onto the sheets harder the further down your abdomen he got, trying to keep your breathing even as fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear.

Bucky looked up at you one last time before dragging the fabric down your legs, tossing them to the side and taking his spot back between your legs.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he peppered kisses to the inside of your thighs, cold metal and warm flesh gently massaging the outsides of them as his stubble scraped at your skin.

A squeak erupted from your throat when he sunk his teeth into the supple flesh, making you move your leg away from his face to pull the skin from between his teeth.

Bucky chuckled and placed a soothing kiss on the mark. One to remind you that none of this had been a dream.

An excited chill ran down your spine when his hot breath fanned your dripping folds. Bucky giving one last glance before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud, a soft chuckle bubbling in his chest when your body jolted and you drew in a sharp breath.

"So responsive, I could get use to that." He winked, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Bucky basked in every breathy sound and reaction he elicited from you, moaning at the taste he wanted to burn into his memory. In hopes he had another chance at this, the slice of heaven he held in his hands.

The chance to have his own angel to bend and mold into his filthiest dream.

He moved his hand to ease his middle finger into your heat, groaning at the immediate flutter of your walls as your hands fisted the sheet and chest heaved with a soft moan.

"Oh, c'mon. You can be louder than that, bunny." Bucky purred, curling the long, thick finger to find the sweet spot to set off the reaction he wanted. A louder moan pulling from your chest when he found the rough patch just inside your cunt making him smirk. "There it is."

He locked his lips around your clit again, fingers curling into the spot that pulled the vulgar sounds from your sweet lips as he sucked and flicked his tongue over the bundle of nerves. An unfamiliar feeling quickly building in your lower belly.

"Bucky-" You keened as white hot pleasure surged through you, your trembling thighs closing on his head as his metal hand moved from your hip to grope at your chest.

His fingers pinched and grazed the pebbled bud before massaging the flesh under his palm as your back arched, your breath catching in your throat and ears ringing.

Bucky lifted his head from between your legs, finger continuing to stroke your walls to work you through your orgasm as he pulled the laces of his shorts loose.

Your skin felt like it was on fire, every nerve alive as you opened your eyes again to Bucky standing at the end of the bed and shoving the shorts down his thick thighs. Erection springing free to give a glance of the two barbells on the underside of his cock. One under the ridge of his swollen head, the other at the base.

Your heart pounded in your ears when he moved back between your legs, stomach flipping from the nerves as his leaking tip ran through your folds and prodded your entrance. "Wait-"

Your hand pressed to the firm muscles of Bucky's stomach made his movements still and eyes flick up to meet your nervous expression. "We can stop if you want. Or we can try something else." He suggested, leaning on his palms to catch your lips in his briefly.

You nodded and let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, something else." You breathed.

A whimper passed your lips when he rocked his hips forward, the barbell sliding over your clit sending shocks of pleasure through you.

Bucky's bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth as let out quiet groans from the feeling of your slick coating his shaft.

"Talk to me, bunny. This okay?" He panted, gaze raking over your naked form that still had the sheet clutched tightly as melodic sounds spilled from your lips.

"Feels good," You panted, words slightly slurred from the dizzy feeling in your head caused by the pressure quickly building again. "So good." He moaned, holding his base to have better guidance through your folds.

You bit your lip into your mouth as tears prickled your eyes from the second wave of warmth that spread, choking out a moan as his pace quickened.

"Fucking shit-" Bucky huffed, his grip on your thigh tightening and release spilling onto your lower abdomen.

You inhaled a few deep breaths, trying to steady your heart beat as he pecked a kiss to your knee before standing from the bed to grab a piece of clothing for clean up.

You pulled the blanket from under you to hold to your chest, waiting for him to get dressed and make an excuse to leave like you'd heard your friends talk about after a hook up.

Instead, he wandered towards the kitchen, finding an empty can as he lit a cigarette, your eyes staying fixed on the way the muscles in his back rippled with his movements.

"C'mere." Bucky said with a soft groan as he got under the blankets with you, sitting the can on the nightstand. "You're staying?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

"If you want me to, yeah." He shrugged, holding his arm out for you to lay on as he placed the cigarette between his teeth and grabbed a pillow to cushion the metal.

You gave a soft yeah and cuddled into his side, the soft whirring of his arm under the pillow helping you slowly drift to sleep.

You felt yourself waking up as the bed dipped under the weight of Bucky moving, deciding not to fully wake up and let him leave in silence.

"Hey," Bucky whispered, moving his body over yours to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. "Hmm?" You hummed in response, peaking an eye open to look at the slate blue eyes that held adoration in them.

His knuckles brushed down your arm, a sweet kiss placed on your lips as he gave you a soft smile. "I gotta go, but I left my personal number under your alarm clock. Give me a call sometime."

You nodded and smiled lightly at him, another kiss pecked to your lips before he left the bed to gather his things, walking towards the door.

"I'm gonna hold ya to that, bunny."

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[bamf-jaskier]

Of lot of blogs are saying book fans wouldn’t like the show, what do you think about that?

Well, when I like to think of show vs books in any context I'm always reminded of my copy of Good Omens. It's held together by tape, sticky notes, and a whole lot of hope. At this point, the annotations have annotations. That book has traveled with me no matter where I live, no matter what country I'm in and it's gotten me through some very difficult times. The book feels personal to me in a very concrete way and despite the literal ink I've spilled on its pages I would never give it up. I viewed the book as the ultimate form of the story of Good Omens.

So when the Amazon series came out, I saw every divergence from the book, every slight change or adjustment as some sort of perversion of a book I loved.

But that's exactly the problem. I saw the book to tv show transition as a process that should be a direct copy. But it's always going to be about adaptation.

The definition of adaptation is as follows:

a composition rewritten into a new form

And that's what I really had to keep in mind when I watched Good Omens. That this is an adaptation. It is meant to be taking the original composition and putting it into a new form. When creating Good Omens, Neil Gaiman even said he changed the ending on purpose so book fans wouldn't get cocky. Adaptations change things but they also bring new things into the universe that can be wonderful benefits. For example, the whole scene with hellfire and holy water in Good Omens was really great to me and it was never in the original book.

And it's the same way with The Witcher.

The Witcher is adapting a series of books. Each episode is not equivalent to a chapter and there's going to be a lot of changes. Some of them I have thought was certainly for the better, Triss and Geralt don't get together in the show like they do in the books. Other changes I was not a fan of, like Tissaia and Vilgefortz together. But overall, I really enjoy the show, changes and all. Because it's adapting a book series I love, and of course, the book series isn't perfectly going to fit whatever the show puts out but the show is adding more to the rich world of The Witcher.

I especially love those moments in the show when I can sort of point at the TV and go "wait! I know this from the books" and get excited about that. And to go back to Neil Gaimen, he specifically changed a big plot point in the books just so fans would have something fresh to chew on and I love that mentality.

When the Witcher changes large plot points such as having Yennefer be the secret hero of Sodden and Vilgefortz stealing the credit instead of Vilgefortz simply being the hero it gives me a sense of excitement like reading all the things that might have happened but never did. If the show was exactly like the books, I would get bored. Because the books still exist and won't be changed by the show. If I want to read them, they are right there. If I want to watch the show, along with all the changes it has made, it's also right there.

Because at the end of the day, you can read the books and enjoy those alone. You can watch the show and just the show. You can join me in my camp of loving both the books and show.

I see problems in the books.

I see problems in the show.

But I also get a lot of enjoyment out of both of them. I appreciate the adaptation for what it brings to the table that is new and unique and I love the original books for creating the very world the show is playing around in.

I think that many book fans do enjoy the show, I'm certainly one of them. I also think a lot of people, like I once did, see the changes the show makes as some sort of personal attack on a book series they love. But like me with my battered copy of Good Omens learning to appreciate the show for all the things it gave us, maybe we can all learn to appreciate some of the great things The Witcher on Netflix has brought us too!

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