#interactions beta editor tag

[nursc-a2]

❛      Ahh, the good captain.    ❜ It seemed experience didn't necessarily bring wisdom. High-ranking officers were the bane of her existence; at one point in their careers, most of them suddenly decided they were immune to the common ailments and became impossible. ❛      Better you than me. The hoarse throat from yelling is more your style, anyway.    ❜

Christine tsked, shaking her head. She very much included him onthe list of impossible officers. ❛     Not even gossip? Hmm. Gotta say, I think I'm gonna take a vacation next year around this time. It's gonna be all on you, buddy.    ❜

"I spent an hour today chasing Jim down for a routine physical, honestly after that paperwork feels almost like a blessing," Leonard snorts. Almost being the key word, he still pretty much hates paperwork, but alas it's a necessary evil. One that regularly likes to stack up on him when he's not looking and leave him with a headache. Maybe it would be done if he hadn't had to chase down errant captains.

"Depends on the officer how many curse words the response might contain," the doctor pulls a face, "Nothing overly new to report anyway, other than getting physicals sorted. Think we're almost towards the end of them now."

[unmeiha-arc]

consider this an interaction call for something (short) starlight/heavensturn related!!

specify if you want starlight or heavensturn

specify if you want a starter or an ask

specify your muse if you are a multimuse blog

[221beloved]

The Ashes on the Ground

It's time for a new fic!

So, this is kind of a teaser, tomorrow I'll post the first chapter of said new fic.

Summary: What happens after? After the fire has burnt down and left nothing but ashes? Roughly two and a half years after what happened at Smith's hospital, things have settled. But have they really? Or is it all still hovering. And what if someone whirls up the ashes again? An old acquaintance. Can something new arise from cold ashes? Something stronger?

@keirgreeneyes was so kind, and she did a fantastic job as beta reader and editor (a big thank you, again) and on top she made these absolute beauties (making me feel like a little child standing in front of a christmas tree)!!

(Actually I wanted to wait a little longer before posting them, but I couldn't... they're just so beautiful. Did you look at them? Properly? Go take another look. And they capture the atmosphere of the story so well, you'll see!)

So, if you want to know what these pictures are about... The story is finished so there'll be regular updates, it's an angst with happy ending, with lots of interaction between Sherlock and our darling Rosie, lots of angst and... a happy ending.

Tagging some people I think might be interested, please tell me if you want your name added or removed!

@lisbeth-kk @a-victorian-girl @meetinginsamarra @totallysilvergirl @topsyturvy-turtely

@safedistancefrombeingsmart @whatnext2020 @helloliriels @nathan-no @ndytheducks

[nursc-a2]

❛    Three days, huh? Imagine that.     ❜ With all his complaining in the past few days, it felt closer to a month. ❛    Well, then you shouldn't mind waiting another day. You've waited all this time. One more day won't break your back, but it's gonna save you a few punches.     ❜

His impatience was familiar; she had felt it enough times it in her own skin to sympathize. Staying still when there was a mission to complete was one of the hardest parts of the job; what was replicating a stolen masterpiece compared to having to wait when you wanted to help? With a soft sigh, she closed the computer, focusing her entire attention on Eliot, gentleness replacing the humor she had been using to fight back against his impatience.

❛    If you were certain you could get in without being caught, you wouldn't have waited three days. It does need to be as close to perfect as possible. I need it to be as close to perfect as possible because if anything happens it's my fault.     ❜ And she doesn't care about being reprimanded by Harper, or Sophie's disappointed eyes, it is her own conscience which keeps her from allowing him to charge in. ❛    So, shoosh, and let me work. Cause I'm not letting you outta here.     ❜

❛ three days, christine! ❜ the words come almost at a shout, hands gesturing emphatically before him. of course she had heard him the first time, of course she is as well aware of their situation as eliot himself. yelling will do nothing to speed up the process, though it does something ( a meager, paltry something ) to take the harshest edge off his own impatience.

❛ so I just... I won't get caught. problem solved. ❜ he just needs something to go by, a badge that will pass a first glance and nothing more. he's worked on far less, before, and the worst that happens... well, he shouldn't consider the worst that happens. it involves more bloodshed than his current life, his current efforts to be worthy of being a part of this team, allows. ❛ I don't need it to be perfect, but if I have to sit here for another twelve hours, I'm going to walk out of here with nothing, okay? and we both know that's not going to end well. so, just... give me something, now. I'm begging. ❜

[tchallasbabymama]

Ménage à Trois Part Deux: Chapter Two

I'm still here (Tisha Campbell voice.)

Y'all... I've been working on this chapter for over a year. I literally JUST finished it and can't even wait for beta readers; I gotta post this now!

Life's lifing, but I haven't forgotten about my stories 💕

As usual, check out my masterlist for more of my work, let me know if you want to be tagged in anything, and make sure you reblog and/or leave a comment if you like it!

Without further ado, here's chapter 2!

Word count: 6,043

CW: smut

Among the many visitors who made their way to Wakanda to experience the kick-off of Queen Zora’s student exchange program was Amanda Livingston, a reporter for the New York Times. She had been assigned the potentially life-changing gig by her editor, and although she wasn’t looking forward to visiting the continent due to all the horrible propaganda she’d heard about it over the years, Amanda eventually came around when she saw the technologically advanced country with her own eyes. Wakanda outdid her wildest expectations, but she wasn’t content with simply enjoying her time in the foreign land. She needed to dig deeper to find dirt on the country that welcomed her into their borders.

When Amanda arrived at the gala, she instantly became uneasy. Looking around at the other, much more stylish guests, she felt underdressed. Their ornate cultural attire, vibrant jewels, and intricate hairstyles made her feel dull and unimpressive for the first time in her privileged life. Her basic navy blue shift dress was a business casual bore against her pale, freckled skin. Despite the thick layer of greasy sunblock clogging her pores, she could already feel her skin turning red after just a few minutes of exposure to the setting sun. Amanda grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest server and downed it to calm her nerves before scanning the courtyard for shade, observing every person and their interactions. Unfortunately for her byline, both the Wakandans and visitors alike seemed to be enjoying themselves. No salacious stories had revealed themselves to Amanda yet, but she perked up upon noticing that a spot had opened up in the gazebo.

The journalist awkwardly squeezed her way into the ornate shelter, sandwiching herself between a prominent Congolese activist and a gaggle of excited Wakandan teens whose endless supply of questions grew louder and more animated as they listened to the visitor’s stories of grassroots organizing in his home country. Amanda listened along with the Wakandans while her eyes wandered around the rest of the gala, admiring the architecture and landscaping of the palace courtyard. It was so different from what she was used to in the States. Beautiful, sprawling, centuries-old fruit trees surrounded the space in lieu of carefully carved topiaries, and a large golden statue of a panther gleamed brightly as the centerpiece of a magnificent fountain. Amanda’s eyes fell to the water pooling beneath the towering feline’s paws, and she noticed unusual petals floating delicately on the surface.

Amanda whipped out her phone to snap a picture of the beautiful sight, but she noticed a familiar face just beyond the curve of the statue’s tail. Sure enough, there stood an old fuck buddy she hadn’t seen since her Ivy League years. In college, Mitchell Van Buren was a well-connected frat boy with a heart that appeared to be of gold, and fifteen years later, he was riding that squeaky-clean reputation all the way to the presidential campaign trail. Amanda had always thought that he favored the Ken doll she had as a young girl. As if he felt her gaze, Mitchell’s piercing blue eyes found hers, and he smiled as he recognized an old fling. 

Amanda found herself standing next to Mitchell in no time flat, and the two of them lost track of time as they caught up on their lives. The friendly chat became more suggestive as time went on. They flirted back and forth until the queen’s speech, where Mitchell allowed his roaming hands to do the talking under Amanda’s dress. By the time Queen Zora returned to her seat, they were already sneaking off into the gardens to escape the crowd.

The politician and the journalist reconnected in a deep, dark corner of the gardens far away from the event. Their reunion was brisk, and as they straightened themselves back out, the sound of footsteps heading in their direction made them fear they had been caught. They stayed ducked behind the bushes as the queen swished her hips into view, followed by a very large man who stared at her with stars in his eyes. The two accidental voyeurs watched as he kissed her hand tenderly, and their eyes bulged in their sockets. Neither could believe what they were seeing. The queen of Wakanda cheating on the king…

The shock of it all made Mitchell freeze on the spot, but Amanda nearly salivated as she pictured the headlines. This was just the story she’d been looking for! Acting quickly and without remembering to turn the sound off her phone, Amanda snapped a picture of the couple. At that moment, the shutter seemed to be the loudest sound she or Mitchell had ever heard. 

The queen and her lover pulled apart, and the mystery man barrelled towards them. Amanda and Mitchell ran in the opposite direction, but Mitchell tripped, nearly busting his chiseled chin on the ground. Amanda ran as fast as she could towards the gala until she rounded the last corner and noticed the Dora Milaje blocking the entrance to the garden. The much taller man shouted after her, and the guards turned around with their spears at the ready. Amanda froze and let go of her phone, but not before pressing send on a message that would surely cause a headache for the royals before the device could even crash to the ground.

“Th-the queen is a cheater! I saw it! We saw it!” Amanda yelled, purposely causing a bigger scene than necessary while squeezing out crocodile tears to gain sympathy points. Unfortunately, it worked, and the crowd turned around to gawk at the spectacle.

--------

Zora woke up to the sound of light snores to her left and warm breaths against her right ear. As usual, two heavy arms were slung across her body, but instead of starting her day filled with the joy of being in her lovers’ arms again, flashbacks of the night before played on a loop behind Zora’s eyes. She absentmindedly watched the ceiling fan rotate slowly and sighed as she cursed herself for slipping up, prompting T’Challa to tighten his grip on her waist.

“Stop thinking about last night,” he grumbled in her ear.

Zora turned to look at him questioningly, and he smirked without opening his eyes. She didn’t even bother asking how he knew what was on her mind, choosing instead to focus on the upward curl of his thick lashes. As if he felt her gaze, those lashes fluttered open, allowing the king’s precious gemstones to sparkle in the early morning sunlight. 

“It was a disaster,” Zora whispered, trying not to wake her other husband from his deep slumber. 

“Try not to focus on the ending.”

“I shouldn’t have gone into the gardens,” Zora whined. “I just-”

T’Challa cut her off with a kiss.

“You blame yourself too easily.” 

He was right, but nonetheless, she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“How are you so chill about this?”

T’Challa brought his hand up to caress her cheek.

“I have watched you live a lie to the rest of the world since the moment you stepped into this role, Babygirl. And I have watched that lie eat away at you every time you have to uphold it. As a man, and a Wakandan one at that, I will never fully understand the pressures of living in a world that dictates you move in such a way. From my point of view, it seems exhausting.”

“It is,” Zora croaked around the lump forming in her throat and turned to look at M’Baku, still splayed out on his stomach and snoring away. “I can’t help but think I’m hurting him. He says he’s fine, but I wouldn’t be if I were in his shoes.”

T’Challa decided it would be better to let M’Baku express his own feelings later, so he held his tongue instead of confirming Zora’s speculation. M’Baku had recently confided in him that he wasn’t as fine with their public arrangement as he let on, but since he didn’t want his feelings to stand in the way of Zora’s success, he was wary of telling her.  

“You should talk to him about it,” the king advised.

“I will, but I’m pretty sure the whole world knows by now,” Zora huffed as last night’s events played in her mind again. She relived everything from the shutter click in the gardens to the crowd’s murmurs at seeing the Dora Milaje with their spears trained on two guests. Nearly every phone was up recording the catastrophe as it unfolded, several of which were streaming live, and they all captured the moment Zora’s carefully crafted image shattered into millions of pieces thanks to colonizers sticking their noses where they didn’t belong.

“No, they know what those people think they saw. The world has yet to hear your truth.”

“I don’t think the world’s ready for the truth.”

“Not everyone will be, but imagine what you will be doing for those that are.”

“You always know what to say,” Zora complimented him with a warm smile.

“Is that not why you married me?”

Before Zora could respond, he kissed her deeply, and she moaned into his parted lips. The sound coursed through T’Challa’s veins and woke up the rest of his body until his every cell ached for his wife. He hadn’t touched her body in two weeks, and the time apart was starting to catch up to him the longer he kissed her. With M’Baku being around and a very willing submissive for them both, the king wasn’t in need of release, but he missed the smell of Zora’s skin and the taste of her juices seeping out for him. He longed to feel her contract around him when she climaxed, and the memory of her screaming his name had him prying her legs open and sliding his fingers into her depths.

“Mmmm-”

“Quiet, or your husband will catch us,” he ordered softly in Zora’s ear, turning her on even more. It wasn’t often that they engaged in cheating roleplay, but when they did, it turned Zora into a sopping wet mess. “You don’t want him to know how filthy you are, do you?”

Zora shook her head and trapped her plump bottom lip between her pearly whites in a feeble attempt to quiet her moans. Her big doe eyes dared not look away from T’Challa’s piercing gaze when he found a spot inside her that made her release a noise much too undignified for a woman of her royal ranking. 

“I said be quiet, Zora,” T’Challa sneered, his breath hot against her ear as his teeth dragged along the lobe.

“Uxolo baby, I-I-”

Zora’s desperate whispers tickled T’Challa’s skin, and his ears grew hot the way they always did when she spoke his native tongue to him.

“Thula!” he growled, pulling his fingers out and slapping her sensitive vulva. The small whimper that she managed to squeak out upon impact made him smile. She was trying to be good for him, so he let his wet fingers trail up her pussy lips to the bundle of nerves that poked out like a beacon of pleasure, calling out to be touched and handled with care. 

Zora’s body felt electric everywhere T’Challa touched her skin. Her fingertips longed to feel him, too, so they found their way to the coils of his beard and pressed his face closer to hers. Time seemed to move slower with every stroke of his fingers around her clit and every filthy and loving word he uttered. His words came out in husky whispers at first before transforming into guttural growls the more his erection pressed into her thigh. Zora was careful not to wind her hips too much to keep from waking M’Baku, but the way T’Challa zeroed in on her pleasure zones and overstimulated her body made it near impossible to lay still. 

Kisses to Zora’s collarbone made her heart beat out of her chest. Her head jerked to the left, and she locked eyes with M’Baku as she heaved through T’Challa’s tortures, making the king chuckle darkly.

“Look what you did,” T’Challa teased as he angled his hips so that he could slide into her wetness, his hand placed firmly around her neck. “You woke him up, and now he knows you're my little cumslut. How do you think it makes him feel to see you like this?”

Zora’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as T’Challa bottomed out inside her, but no matter how good it felt, she knew one thing: she better not let go of her legs, or there would be delicious hell to pay. Since most mornings consisted of the throuple making vigorous love to start their day, they often started in this very position when the queen was the center of attention. T’Challa would find a way to slide in either from the back or the side, depending on how Zora was lying. Every time, without fail, he would assign her the task of holding her legs back for him, and every time, without fail, he’d beat the breaks off her pussy so good that she’d lose her grip, making him fuck her harder for insubordination.  

Today, he could tell by the strained look on her face that she was determined to be good. He hadn’t forgotten about her eight infractions over their time apart, but Zora wasn’t in the right headspace for punishments. Naturally, she was stressed and scared about how the previous night could affect her career, but most of all, her guilt over hiding M’Baku from the world, combined with missing them both, had made her soft, and she’d need a thick skin for what T’Challa had planned for her.

So, the king fucked her slow and deep and watched with an amused smirk as she struggled to grip her legs. As if he read both of their minds, M’Baku’s large hand covered Zora’s, and he easily held her thick bronze legs in place the way he knew the king liked. Zora’s eyes met his again, and she pulled him into a kiss, their tongues colliding before their lips ever touched. They got lost in a cycle of licking and sucking and biting at each other until Zora’s hand wandered down to M’Baku’s naked dick, hard as Jabari wood and throbbing with the desperate heat of a man that missed the feeling of his wife’s inner workings. He moaned into her mouth as she worked her hand up and down his thickening shaft, and Zora answered with deep moans of her own that were prompted by T’Challa’s even deeper strokes. His grunts of pleasure in her ear just turned her on even more, and the three of them soon became composers in a beautiful symphony of swirling notes belted into the air while the percussion of their bodies kept rhythm. 

Beep, beep-beep, beep, beep-beep.

Zora went rigid with an influx of anxious energy that filled her body from head to toe, swiftly replacing the waves of pleasure that she had been immersed in before T’Challa’s kimoyo beads began ringing. 

“Ignore it,” T’Challa ordered through gritted teeth. “They will call back.”

“It could be important.”

“It is too early. Leave it be for now,” M’Baku nearly begged as he thrust into Zora’s hand.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Zora’s beads began vibrating from the nightstand, and she released M’Baku, placing her palm on T’Challa’s chest. A growl escaped his lips as he pulled out.

“Zora, it can wait-” T’Challa cut himself off and turned towards the door with a curious look on his face just before someone’s knuckles banged against the vibranium.

“This can’t be good,” Zora murmured, untangling herself from M’Baku, reaching for her kimoyo beads, and sliding them onto her wrist. 

T’Challa begrudgingly agreed with a nod of his head as he grabbed his black silk robe from the back of his chair. The knocks came again, this time sounding even more urgent than the first set, so when the king swung the door open, he was unsurprised to see Kidada, Bahati, and Dembe flanked by Okoye and Ayo. They exchanged the proper greetings and salutes, and upon hearing all the voices of those present, Zora’s heart sank to her stomach.

“Ugh, all hands on deck?” Zora groaned, burying her head into the pillow and covering it with the flimsy white sheet they slept under. M’Baku rubbed her back in comforting circles, but his eyes stayed glued to the doorway.

“We really hate to wake you up like this, but it seems we could not stop the footage of last night’s incident from leaking to the global press,” Bahati explained calmly.

Kidada held out a holopad for the king to scroll through news articles and social media posts. A thick silence filled the air as he read page after page of people’s disdain for Zora and her perceived infidelity.

“How bad is it?” Zora’s voice wavered, her mind already expecting the worst. She had been trying to gauge the degree of disaster from T’Challa’s responses, but his features were frozen in a carefully crafted poker face. He could hear her heart thumping wildly in her chest and smell the panic seeping from her pores.

“It, uh…” T’Challa trailed off as his eyes focused on a headline from a popular gossip column. The writer speculated how quickly the king should divorce his supposedly adulterous wife. “It could be worse.”

---------

Over the years, Zora had exposed M’Baku to her people's art, culture, and history. From the triumphant to the traumatic, he learned more about the Lost Tribe than he ever anticipated. He respected their tenacity and ingenuity in surviving their colonizer’s oppressive regime. Seeing her world through his eyes made Zora appreciate it more, but sometimes his inquiries forced her to interrogate the parts of her society that even she didn’t understand. 

For example, Zora could never properly explain assimilation to M’Baku in a way that made sense to him. Probably because, at her core, she didn’t understand it either. Every answer she gave the man confused him more than the last, and after all this time, he still didn’t get it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around people who chose to side with their oppressors, specifically the Black folks who adopted conservative sensibilities. 

In the wake of the gala incident, M’Baku’s confusion grew tenfold as those same conservative Black folks got wind of what was happening in Wakanda, and their collective reaction was even stronger than the KKK whites over at Fox. His eyes glazed over every time Bahati and Kidada updated the royals on the situation. News briefings and viral videos lambasting Zora’s behavior seemed to be coming out every second, and the global scale of it all made M’Baku feel small. 

Handsy megachurch preachers with a penchant for inflicting the fiery numbness of the male gaze onto the young women in their congregation spouted whole sermons to their flocks about the importance of wives remaining submissive and faithful to their husbands. Longstanding problematic radio personalities lamented the fact that the women they deemed golddiggers didn’t seem to know their place anymore. Most perplexing of them all, podcast niggas laughed at T’Challa and called him weak from behind their shitty microphones set up in their mother’s moldy basement. What was left of Black Twitter was in disarray. The royal Wakandan wedding had broken the internet the year before, and the news of Zora’s philandering sent waves through the app again. In just twenty-four hours, Zora had been called everything but a child of god, and T’Challa’s masculinity was questioned by those who clung to the patriarchal idea that his woman’s behavior determined his manhood. Meanwhile, the whole world speculated on the identity of the mystery man caught canoodling with the queen.

Under normal circumstances, the royals could have easily avoided the ruckus of the outside world when safe inside Wakanda, but the scandal’s timing couldn’t have been worse. For the first time in its long and storied history, Wakanda was hosting hundreds of outsiders from all over the globe. Zora’s unprecedented position within the royal house had truly brought forth a new age of diasporic collaboration, but the second the scandal broke, so did the facade. Of course, her people and most of the visiting children were unbothered. After their second full day, the exchange students had taken to calling Wakanda their ekhaya, their home. It warmed Zora’s heart every time she heard their foreign accents dance around the Xhosa words with varying levels of ease. Even more surprising was the Wakandan children blending their own words and mannerisms so seamlessly with their guests. Seeing their exchange in such a short amount of time was the only thing that fueled Zora as her public life crumbled around her. 

Even though the exchange was for the benefit of the children, and therefore, it was shaping up to be a success, the adults weren’t shy about making their displeasure known. Many of them showed their nasty true colors the moment Zora’s supposed indiscretions went public. Some went as far as returning home and dagging their helpless children with them. Those who remained were either chaperones forced to stay with the few children whose parents hadn’t withdrawn from the program, or just looking for more dirt to take back home with the hopes of collecting a check. Unsurprisingly, the journalists and politicians were especially heinous in their approach, and T’Challa was steadily growing tired of walking the paper-thin line between needing to maintain diplomatic relations and swiftly dropping them all over the border in Niganda. 

In just two days, the program had already lost nine students, and three schools in two separate countries had pulled out of the partnership. In that same amount of time, M’Baku spoke maybe ten words, and Zora weathered four panic attacks. The first of which came shortly after Bahati, Kidada, and Dembe interrupted the royal throuple’s morning lovemaking to break the news of the international scandal. The second two were due to her fear of failure being triggered by the waning participation in her exchange program, but the last one caught her off guard.

It struck while she was visiting her mother. Shortly after Zora’s weddings, Cheryl retired from teaching AP English Literature, packed up her Atlanta home, and moved into the house that T’Challa had given Zora when she accepted the liaison position. She just couldn’t bear being so far apart from her one and only child, and the time change was too much for her to keep track of. Truly, the first time Cheryl visited, she knew she’d be moving soon. For Operation Stepdaddy, if nothing else, which commenced as soon as she set down her suitcase.

Cheryl was backstroking through the Wakandan dating pool. According to the exploits she would dish to Zora and Ramonda about, the quantity was low, but the quality was high. Most of the men in her age range were already partnered, and she wasn’t one for polyamory like her daughter. However, the generous handfuls of men she’d interacted with restored her faith in their genderfolk. 

In short, Cheryl was living her best life.

Between her newfound social life and lending her expertise as an educator to help shape Zora’s exchange program, she felt more fulfilled than ever. Zora had noticed the change in her mother. It was a change she had dreamed of seeing all her life. Cheryl seemed happy. She smiled all the time now, her shoulders didn’t carry tension, and the only thing stressing her out was the heat. She seemed free.

Cheryl was so used to seeing that same look on Zora’s face that she immediately knew something was wrong when she opened her front door to greet her daughter. Her energy was just off.

“You ruin your fancy shoes stepping in rhino shit again?” she quipped with a raised brow.

Zora couldn’t help but crack a small smile as she stepped over the threshold and into Cheryl’s outstretched arms. 

“That was one time, momma.”

“And I still don’t know how you missed that big-ass pile.”

Ayo stifled a laugh as she entered the familiar space and allowed Cheryl to embrace her as well. They all knew that nobody was exempt from her hugs.

Zora was quieter than usual as she made her way through her former home. Cheryl had already made it her own, filling it with plants that Zora would’ve killed within a week. The walls were a deep maroon and covered in locally woven tapestries and baskets, and the entire home smelled like warming spices. The abundance of natural light peeking through the windows kept the place bright despite the darker color palate. It felt like Cheryl’s Atlanta home, but bigger and with a higher budget.

As soon as Zora sat down at the kitchen table, Cheryl handed her a mango juice mimosa–their favorite. The second their glasses clinked, the queen downed her cocktail in one gulp. 

“Oh, it’s that kind of day?” Cheryl asked, sipping her glass once before setting it on the kitchen table between them.

Zora nodded, but before she could open her mouth to explain further, a calendar reminder popped up on her beads that made her head spin. She had forgotten about her doctor’s appointment—the one where she was set to have the birth control removed from her arm. 

The thought of juggling the complete dumpster fire her life had become seemingly overnight with the possibility of bringing life into the world overwhelmed Zora. She could feel her heart thumping in her eardrums, and her jaw tightened as she tried to breathe through the anxiety crashing into her. 

“It’s too much some days.”

The queen’s voice sounded small, so her mother laid a soft hand on her shaking knee. 

“What is, honeybun?”

Zora’s mind raced. Where to begin?

“Now I see why Wakanda stayed isolated for so long,” Zora sighed before walking her mom through the events of the last few days. As she laid down her burdens, heavy iron gears turned in Cheryl’s mind. She couldn’t help but try to figure out a way to fix her one and only child’s problem, but the politics of it all stumped her. 

“I don't even know what to say, baby.”

They sat in a thick silence for several moments until Cheryl broke it by refilling Zora’s glass. This time, the royal sipped it slowly before parting her lips once more with a question that had been weighing her down since her calendar dinged. 

“When did you know you were ready to be a mom?”

Cheryl’s heart nearly beat out of her chest, but she played it cool. She had never been one to push Zora to have kids, but it was one of her deepest wishes to grow old and experience being a grandmother. 

“Not until I gave you your first bath,” Cheryl chuckled. “I was scared to death to hold you– you were so tiny. I just knew I’d break you.”

Zora remembered the many stories she’d heard over the years about Cheryl’s tumultuous pregnancy. How ashamed she was for ending up in that situation, and how alone she felt. That man really put her momma through it…

“Why do you ask?” Cheryl cut her eyes at Zora’s mimosa glass, “I know you ain’t pregnant drinking all that champagne.”

Zora shook her head.

“Not yet. I was thinking about having my implant removed, but now,” the queen shook her head and took another sip of mango mimosa. “My timing couldn’t be worse.”

“There’s no such thing as the perfect time, honeybun.”

“Yeah, but in the middle of a media shitstorm?”

Cheryl chuckled before turning up her drink and finishing the last drop. By the time she placed the glass down on the table, an idea had churned up between her ears. 

“Maybe that’s exactly what you need.”

Zora looked at her like she had two heads, but Cheryl continued, “They’d eat up a royal baby! Plus, you’d have an excuse to step out of the spotlight for a little while, and by the time you come back, they’d be too enamored with my grandbaby to give a damn about your sex life.”

“Momma, I’m not having a baby as a PR move.”

“Let me ask you something, Zora. Do you want to be a mother?”

Zora’s eyes softened as she pictured her future, and a saccharine smile hung on her lips as she nodded softly.

“And do your husbands want to be fathers?”

Zora couldn’t contain her giggle.

“You already know they’re just waiting on me.”

“Then you have that baby whenever you damn well please, and the rest of the world will just have to keep up. You’re a queen, Zora. You have so much more than I had, or my momma, or her momma. We had to deal with all kinds of stigmas and oppression that you’re free from. So, do what the fuck you want.”

---------

Those words danced around Zora’s head all that night, but she still chose to postpone her appointment. Not by long, just a few more weeks. However, Cheryl’s passionate refrain inspired a different course of action regarding the gala incident. Instead of praying that the ordeal would blow over, Zora and Bahati spent the next two days crafting a statement to take control of the narrative. After Cheryl lent her wordsmith expertise to the speech, Zora felt that it was finally ready for public consumption. But she needed to ensure it landed with her target audience before anyone else. 

Excitement made Zora giddy, and she was barely able to sit still while Bahati quickly ran through her end-of-day update on the student exchange program. The remaining students and their chaperones had spent the day in the Border province, sharpening their language skills while learning about Wakandan agriculture and traditional cuisine. She had been missing out on so much…

When she and Bahati parted ways for the night, Zora checked her kimoyo beads to see where her husbands were. M’Baku’s avatar stood in the kitchen housed in their royal suite, which made Zora’s stomach growl in anticipation of whatever he had whipped up. Her eyes drifted to T’Challa’s avatar darting around the training room, and she wondered who his sparring partner was today. What lucky foe got to witness the Black Panther in all his sweaty, aggressive glory?

She licked her lips as she called him.

The communication bead buzzed in her palm, and seconds later, T’Challa’s glistening form came into view. His locs were loose, so he tossed them back out of his eyes as he caught his breath. 

“Good evening, my queen.”

“Hello, husband.” Zora couldn’t help her lusting, “You look delicious.”

“Eish!” Okoye cursed off-camera, making Zora giggle.

“Uxolo, general,” she apologized with a smirk. “I thought you were done for the day.”

“She was, but I convinced her to stick around and lose a few rounds.” T’Challa dismissed Okoye and waited until she left the training room before turning back to Zora. “I still have a few more rounds in me, Babygirl.”

Zora stepped onto the elevator and let the doors swish closed behind her.

“Tempting, but business first,” she teased.

“What business?”

“Come home and find out.”

Zora ended the call before he could respond, smirking to herself. He hated it when she did that, but she loved pushing his buttons. Especially when he was already sweaty, shirtless, and revved up.

The elevator doors slid open, and she was welcomed home by the aroma of M’Baku’s home cooking. She tried to guess what it was, but it eluded her. It was definitely something she’d tasted before, but not often. The spices that swirled in the air hinted at local cuisine, nothing from the international cookbooks he had come to collect over the last few years. Something rare, as if for a special occasion–

Zora stopped in her tracks before she entered the suite. 

The date.

She had forgotten its significance to her husband, and her stomach churned with guilt. She had been so busy dealing with her own mess that she forgot it was the worst day of his life. 

Shortly after M’Baku won the Jabari chiefdom, his mother fell ill. Her lungs were weak, too weak to make it through the changing of seasons. His father wasted away slowly over the next year and finally wandered into the snow on the anniversary of her death.  

M’Baku had spent the last decade without his parents, and it had been nearly as long since he’d last spoken to his siblings. Growing up, he was the eldest of four, and all Zora knew was that only three of them remained on this plane. M’Baku refused to speak about them, so she didn’t push him on it. 

But Zora knew this day always came with heartache, so she slid out of her shoes and padded across the sunken living room to the open kitchen. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around M’Baku’s trunklike waist and buried her head in the soft fabric covering his back. She felt some of the tension release from his body at her touch, but plenty remained. 

“How was your day, my sweet?” he asked softly, and she hugged him tighter.

“I should be asking you that.”

“No need; my answer would be bleak.”

Zora released him just enough to circle around and squeeze between his body and the stovetop, forcing his sad eyes to peer into her soul. Her hands on either side of his face brought him to the verge of tears.

“I don’t care how bleak it is. I want to know everything you’re going through, baby.”

M’Baku nodded and surrendered to her delicate kisses.

“I-” he began but stopped himself from voicing the words that brought him so much guilt.

“I just miss them,” he sighed. “Every day, my home reminds me of them. Every mountaintop, every fish in the river… I am tired of the memories.”

Zora let his tears fall from his tired eyes but wiped them away with her thumbs before they could reach his beard. She walked him over to the kitchen table and sat him down as T’Challa entered the suite. He took in the scene and understood immediately.

“I’ll finish dinner, baby.” Zora kissed M’Baku’s forehead and let T’Challa take over while she kept their yearly repast from burning. She kept an eye on them from the other side of the room, watching as they mumbled to each other. M’Baku let out his tears on T’Challa’s shoulder as the king comforted him. Every now and then, Zora and T’Challa would lock eyes, and their silent conversation spoke volumes. In all their time together, they had never seen this day hit him so hard. 

M’Baku barely spoke through dinner, a haunted look in his distant gaze that unnerved Zora while they ate. It wasn’t until T’Challa cleared the table that a sigh escaped M’Baku’s lips.

“I want this more,” he stated, confusing the other two.

“This?” Zora asked, and the chief nodded.

“This. Normal life.”

T’Challa had been feeling inklings of M’Baku’s ambivalence towards his chiefdom for quite a while now. With the Jabari throne not being a blood right but a title only won through battle, M’Baku didn’t have the same sentimental connection to ruling his people. T’Challa often wondered if he would feel the same under different circumstances.

“What does normal mean to you?” T’Challa invited him to say the words that would free him.

M’Baku considered his words carefully. Over the years, he had grown to love living in the capital, far away from the ghosts that haunted the snow. The more time he spent away, the more he realized just how miserable he was at home. Since getting married, he’d spend four or five nights a week in Birnin Zana with his bride and her other husband. The Jabari elders hated him for his constant absence, but even they could see how much lighter he seemed every time he returned. The chief was unhappy being chief. It seemed that everyone knew it, and none of them could blame him, given the circumstances. 

“I no longer wish to be chief of the Jabari.”

Next chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem , @theblulife , @motheroffae , @love-mesome-me , @toni9 , @brihann, @impremenior , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @brattyfics s, @cecereads209, @afriendlyblackhottie , @queengodiva619 , @musicisme333 ,  @dersha89 , @ljstraightnochaser , @bornamiracle , @xoxovivafics , @goddessofmischief0711 , @issahyland , @blkbutterfly816 , @judymfmoody, @novaniskye , @prettystringbean , @martakllv, @blackpinup22 , @mermaidchansons, @jadedjotun , @branium , @abeautifulmindexposed d, @prettyisasprettydoes1306 6, @reneinii

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Hey I just want to come in and establish some boundaries cause I've been getting some comments and asks that have been making me uncomfortable and I don't want to have to turn off replies or shut down the askbox:

Don'ts:

If you are under the age of 18, this space and my content are not for you. Minors Do Not Interact.

Please do not message me asking for advice about real-life kink/BDSM. I am just a random writer, all of my research is done by reading forums that I find through Google and conversations with friends where applicable. I am not open to giving resources or advice about your dynamic/relationship and it makes me extremely uncomfortable to be asked these kinds of questions.

I am not looking for a Beta reader/editor. I am aware my writing is not perfect and I make grammatical mistakes and break rules a lot. I am writing for fun, no matter how kindly worded the criticism, I am not open to it.

Please do not pressure me for updates on a specific series, I am writing for fun in my free time for myself to relax and enjoy making something. I follow my muse and will update when I feel able to.

Do's:

Feel free to make fan art or podfics! Also feel free to tag me in these, I would love to see them and share them!

You are also welcome to bookbind any of my works for your personal use as long as they are not being sold commercially and you are not making any profit off of them!

[anchorandrope]

The Stylinson Crew Community FAQ ♡

Recently Tumblr implemented a new feature «Communities» which I decided to try. I made a private one for larries! In this post I'm gonna explain some things about communities in general and about this one specifically - just to make sure people know before joining what they are joining. In the community I pinned a post where I basically explain all this, but this is for people who are not there yet ;)

About Communities in general:

First of all, this is in beta testing, this is expected to bug, glitch, etc. According to Tumblr's page about Communities, it may not work in every mobile app (yet), and it's not available for every user yet. So they are gonna be slow till they do the next update.

No idea if anyone has Twitter, but the community feature there is kinda similar to this one. We do have roles - admin, moderators (not out yet, but they will only available to delate posts and comments), members - but here on Tumblr communities can be public or private (Twitter communities are all public).

Being a private community means: Everything we post here is absolutely private and only members can visualise and interact with the posts. The community is not hidden, so if anyone follows the link it will appear a message saying "this is a private community" - important note: if the admin (in this case, me!) sends an invite, the blogger who received the invite will be able to visualise the posts, but they won't be able to interact till they join.

Future updates for Communities:

When I made the community I was not only added here but also to two more communities (by default), one called "Communities Feedback" and the other one is "Community Admin Zone". In the feedback one the admin (a Tumblr employee) said the following features are on their way: Editing the community (admins only), moderators roles, the "free to join" and "request to join" feature, integrating communities into the feed (next to following, for you, tags) and updating the post editor in the mobile app. Some more but not that relevant.

About this Community specifically:

As the admin of this community, I want to make sure everyone is comfortable and safe there. To be able to do that, I'm letting you all know im only accepting Larry blogs or blogs that at least have posts or a tag where they talk about Louis and Harry being in a relationship. I'm well aware that there are a lot of blogs whose admins are larries but just don't post about it, but I cannot risk letting there someone who may give us a bad time. It's extremely easy to send a random ask saying "I'm a larrie, let me in" just to join and send inappropriate stuff or start insulting.

Regarding members' behaviour, is prohibited and will be expelled if: Minority bashing of some kind (racism, misogyny, xenophobia, lgbtphobia, ableism, classism, etc. is unacceptable), promoting unhealthy behaviours (eating disorders, self harm, addictions, etc.), posting here and/or on other social media anything that is posted here. If anyone breaks these rules, let me know and they will be banned.

What is allowed and encouraged: Talk freely about whatever you want about the fandom, talk about things in your life if you want to (if it's a sensitive topic use TW/CW, please). Make friends, ask questions, answer questions, gossip. Laugh, cry, get angry, do whatever you want. Take this community as a group of friends. Ideally we would like to speak mainly in English to understand each other, but if you want to meet people from your own country and talk to them in their own language, that's fine too!

Although it may sound obvious, this is a larrie community. People present are expected to believe that Louis and Harry are currently in a relationship. It's ok if you have doubts about the present but believe they were dating in the past, but people who believe that Louis and Harry were dating with their beards and PR Stunts from the 1D era are not accepted :) Which leads to the belief that Louis is not a father, if anyone present has a problem with this, I beg them to not ask to join the community.

How to join this Community:

I'll post in the community and here when the "request to join" feature is ready and I'll explain how to use it, but in the meantime you need to either reply to this post, send me an ask without anon (i need your url to invite you) or if we are moots, dm me! When I invite you, tumblrbot will dm you (private message, not via askbox) with instructions. If you don't receive them after I replied to you saying I've already sent you an invitation, please let me know! I'll see what I can do :) But first try following this link if you don't receive the message of the bot but my reply saying I've already invited you, a person that had a problem with joining (it appeared for me the blog was invited, but they didn't receive a message) was able to join thanks to following this link - after following it: you should see a "accept invite" on top and then some terms and conditions. after that, you are in!!

[nursc-a2]

❛ I think you said I was being stupid, which is leagues away from calling me stupid. ❜ In either case, she didn't really care. He was the one being his usual adorable, worrisome self, and if she put up a fuss every time he did that, they'd still be orbiting that same exploding sun, dying over and over again. As she was very, very clever, and he was also pretty alright, they'd gotten themselves out of that mess with only a few psychological scars.

Hand shifts in his grasp, fingers interlocking with his so she can tug him closer, forehead dropping to his shoulder as she heaves out a sigh, thankful that he had caught himself this time before they spiraled out of control. ❛ Aye, aye, sir. ❜ When she lifts her head, a smile replaces the troubled expression troubling her features before, broad and teasing, even as her tone shifts into something more serious.

❛ I won't. You are the security guy, if you are telling me I should do something, I will. I'm troublesome, I'm not insubordinate. ❜

ㅤ“ That's not what I'm fucking -- ” Irritation flared up before he could stop it, but Balfour stopped himself before it ran away with his tone or his volume. For a moment, he shut his eyes, screwed them closed briefly and sighed. Levelling himself again. Christine was his friend and he was going to treat her like it. If he was going to sit through the absolute embarrassment of therapy -- baring his heart to anyone at all was terrifying, though he was trying to learn to get used to it -- he might as well try and fucking put some of it to use instead of snapping like he always did.

ㅤWith the slightest hint of a blush upon his cheeks, Balfour looked to her again as they walked. He reached to touch her wrist, gently. “ I'm sorry I called you stupid. What I meant was... I would like for us... ” he began, slow to speak and carefully choosing the words, lest he say something stupid again, “ to be a team on this. I won't... coddle you, and you don't... run off. Right? That's all I meant. This is my job, I would like to do it. ”

[siiinfully]

💫 ---- a highly NSFT rp blog, penned by ALEX, she/her, 28+. featuring various female muses from different fandoms, including Marvel, DC, and GoT, and a handful of original muses. is mutuals only, heavily relies on the queuing system, and uses beta editor. due to the nature of this blog, minors should not interact & follow.

Read guidelines before following & interacting!

erotic. is the tag to block to avoid seeing graphic s.exual images on your dash once you follow!

➖ links: guidelines // muse list // kink list // opens // memes // starter calls // thread tracker

➖ mobile-friendly muse list: muse list

➖ highly affiliated with: @asexxxualerotica, @bewitchingbaker, @brotherhoodwarlord, @dalphahale, @formaechao, @isitrecording, @isles-of-man, @kingdom-of-vanity, @luposcainus, @night-stalker-joe, @thehatakefamily, & @velvetrogue.

➖ affiliated with: @ask-jaune-npr, @audaxbellator, @barbwireandblood, @championselect, @dino-king-rex, @dontstepinmypuddle, @driiipgod, @eskelwolf, @eternity-hero, @favcritesins, @hxtties, @inadxquacy, @kingxfmischief, @kevinxrichards, @mysterymanjoseph, @pocket-sized-lawyer, @potestmagice, @realmyths, @seekesotsibteadmist, @theashen-fox, @twistedtangledfate, & @vocespraeterita.

promo credit.

[incubabe]

Please like, reblog, or plain old follow if you’d like to interact with my fandomless, modern fantasy OC --  Riley Cross, certified public accountant and reluctant abomination in the eyes of God. The libidophagic condition alone is troublesome enough, and that before the target painted on her back for being born damned. Unpleasant bookkeeping aside, she enjoys travel shows, the fresh tang of cool mountain air, and intimate nights in pleasant feminine company. It’d be nice to expand the friend pool, or, failing that, the little black book. 

    Writer and character 21+. Sensitive content possible and appropriately tagged (i.e., #nsfvv. and #spiders cw.). Beta editor only. Thank you for your time.

  {  Home  ||  About   ||   Stats  ||  Memes ||  OOC  }

[lady-phasma]

Hi, what I’ve noticed particularly about the house of the dragon fandom is that unless you’re a good fic writer or are friends with a good fic writer the fandom ignores you . I’ve seen people on here and TikTok make friends online that become friends irl . I know that’s not always the case but it seems to me that unless your s good fic writer here or a good editor on TikTok the fandom ignores you . I don’t get it . As if people who don’t write fics don’t have opinions or can discuss things . It’s really upsetting to

Hi nonnie. I'm so sorry you're upset. 💕 First, hugs.

Second, full disclosure, Tumblr is my only "social media" aside from a Facebook account I use to mostly stay in touch with family and friends from college. So I can't speak about TikTok creators. I would very much like for you to reply to this if you feel like it. I'm going to tag you as 💝 but please let me know if you want a different one.

The reason I hope you'll respond is so you know that your opinion matters. If you want to share your opinions with me I will listen and usually respond pretty quickly. Also, I would like to know your thoughts on "good fic writer" - I'm just going to say creator as a general term in this answer but I don't think the qualifier "good" matters and here's why...

If that is your perception and, perhaps the perception of other non-creators, it might be a little skewed because creators on all platforms tend to connect with one another for advice, criticism, tips, or help (like beta reading). That's why I'm not going to qualify someone's creativity with good/bad.

I truly do not want anyone in the fandom to feel this way. At all. Not ever. You do not deserve to be ignored. You have thoughts and opinions and they are interesting. Finding the niche group we fit in with is as difficult online as it is in real life.

I can't speak about TikTok, but for Tumblr, I think writers might appear to be the "loudest" because this is a platform that people use to read fanfiction. Does that mean that I think only fic writers should have the bullhorn? Of course not, and there are a few blogs who aren't fic writers, mostly nonfiction or opinions, and they get seen. So I would like to ask you this:

Do you not feel heard because a specific person or group belittled your thoughts? Or do you not feel heard because you don't feel like you are having the amount of personal interactions in the HotD fandom that you expect?

Lastly, I don't know about making friends irl from Tumblr. I have made friends who I chat with off Tumblr and have known for ages it seems and we still haven't shared our real names! (And I love them so much!) Tumblr is a bizarre and lovely place. "Social media" has really only been applied to Tumblr retroactively. Sure, we come here to socialize, but I don't assume that I will meet any of my lovely friends in real life. There's absolutely no pressure.

I don't want to take up too much more of your time but I would be honored if you would be my friend. I don't mean you have to out yourself in my DMs or come off anon. I want to know that you're okay, I don't want to worry about you. I want you to not feel ignored. As unhinged, insane, toxic, and exciting as the HotD fandom is, it's got some amazing people in it, just like any fandom. I found that I had to reach out to some people first and that's hard for a lot of folks. I have made other friends because they reached out to me first. If you do come back to my inbox (I sincerely hope you do), I'm curious how long you've been in the fandom/on tumblr, but only tell me what you're comfortable with. And if you just want to fill my inbox with fandom thoughts, that's okay too! I'm here for you.

[deathblossomed]

PINNED POST.

❀࿐ DEATHBLOSSOMED / O' bringer of death, o' river's guide, o' flower blooming

Welcome. DEATHBLOSSOMED is an independent, private blog for Botan of Yoshihiro Togashi's Yu Yu Hakusho, guided by Chai (she/they, 21+). Featuring content from the manga, anime & live action. Multiverse & Multiship friendly. Please read rules before interacting. This blog does utilize the beta editor.

i. questions. ii. carrd. iii. ask meme tag. iv. headcanon tag. v. post-canon verse. vi. plot ideas tag. vii. multimuse.

[tiredoftomorr0w]

tiredoftomorr0w - 25+, he/him, multi-muse, low activity indie smut blog using beta editor only. taboo and kink friendly content with original muses. this blog will be smut focused (but not exclusively) and triggers are not tagged. please be over the age of 18 to interact. penned by damon.

muses | guidelines | kinks | wanted opposites | wishlist

[banerpg]

At the center of a cluster of ancient towers stands the Citadel, the pinnacle point of Vinnesse raised atop the cliffside where great swells curl in from the North Sea and lash against cragged rock. It is a harsh region of howling wind that carries the taste of brine up from the tide spray; a fierce nature that seems to mimic the power of its inhabiting mages. The fellowship is welcomed in strides, wandering the soaring infrastructures beneath keen stares until all arrive to convene within a grave chamber that bears an aura of severity. Its effects are black in colour and all carved from dark stone, the edges of the furnishings seemingly honed by a whetstone — nearly sharp enough to cut the skin, if you catch it just right. It is there they pledge their lives to the destruction of the gauntlet, the arcane artefact peering into the minds of its new sentry from the round table's core. It is oxidised and black, merely another relic of the Great War to the unwitting eye. But when it begins to whisper to those twelve minds, it is swiftly enveloped by elven cloth and eased away. A moon surpasses them. And during this time, DARK HEIR and BONE PYRE pore over maps late into the night, exchanging thoughts and expertise on the best course through The Black Valley from a cumulation of their travels. They are aided by the scholar GRAVE RELIC, familiar with the archives of Vinnesse and even NIGHT SHRIKE, who shifts into a generously sized kestrel to retrieve an aged atlas that collects dust upon the top shelf. But it is not as quiet as they'd prefer during its study, and BLACK OATH'S eye strays once towards the echo of elevated tones. In the room across them, the council challenges GOD BURNER'S decision to join the quest, and the display leaves STORM SAINT with a centuries old headache. LOST POET idly strums a tune, stalling in their explanation as to why an earlier sparring session with FALSE KNIGHT went so poorly if they are supposed to be a trained knight. The lamp keeping the charts aglow runs low on oil, and before DUSK BLADE can break from the flip of their knife to fetch another, LIGHT BRINGER succeeds in conjuring a sphere of light. Someone spares an appreciative word in their direction, but BLOOD OMEN looks on in disdain, lounging on a settee with a pair of guards at their back.

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐆 is now open for interactions ! For our opening setting, it has been one week since the fellowship has arrived in Vinnesse and it is their last day before they officially set out on their journey to destroy the gauntlet in Antirac. Feel free to drop all open starters or in the respective tag ( bane.start ), as well as toss a link in our starter channel in the discord, especially if it's an open thread there. Make sure you're following everyone on the blogroll and I look forward to writing with you all soon ( all threads should be set within Vinnesse unless writing out a past scenario ). A final reminder that threads taking place on tumblr must be made with the beta editor + xkit rewritten ( if you need any help with this, please do not hesitate to ask ). Part one of our first chapter will only last for roughly a week or two at max as it's meant as a soft start to help everyone settle into both the world and your characters, and part two will officially see them on the road.

[cauldronqveen]

—CAULDRONQVEEN.

IND. PRIV. SEL. PORTRAYAL OF IGGWILV / TASHA OF THE GREYHAWK CAMPAIGN SETTING OF DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS.

brewed by bee! dash only. mobile rules under the cut. proceed with caution, possible dead dove themes present.

links. CARRD. | CALLS. | MEMES. | HEADCANONS. | STUDY. | VISUALS. also found at @harpersoath & @hopedflight.

GOLDEN RULE. obligatory "don't be a dick" rule. don't follow if you are a shitty person.

ACTIVITY. activity is sporadic and irregular, at the whim of my energy level and adhd. I work 40hrs a week and take care of my life, pets, and myself all alone. roleplay is a low priority and something i do for fun.

WRITING PARTNERS. i will not follow or write with anyone under 18. as someone now in my mid-20s where there may be nsfw on this blog i do not feel comfortable having minors in my space.

INTERACTIONS. plotting and asks are usually the easiest way to interact. i occasionally post starter calls but they can take a while to get done. please feel free to continue on any asks into threads. i also will sometimes do dash commentary.

WRITING & FORMATTING. i use fairly minimal formatting, and even then it's wildly inconsistent. the key features of my formatting are all lowercase, "bold text for quotes / speaking" and small text. i use beta editor, and also have new xkit to cut posts. if you need different formatting requirements for any reason, please just beep me & i will adapt, gladly! i tend to write from a few sentences to multiple paragraphs, depending on my partner & the thread.

PLOTTING. i love established dynamics! please, please, *please* feel free to reach out for any kinds of dynamics.

SHIPPING. iggwilv is complicated. the long & short of it is, at the end of the day, her one true love will always be graz'zt. as much as she may act otherwise. as such, it is unlikely that genuine romance will occur.

that being said, she has over the years developed quite a line of consorts and flings. just...don't expect long-term serious commitment from her. that being said, please send me shippy memes and please feel free to chat with me about that kind of dynamic. just know she is likely gonna manipulate the hell out of you. <3

TRIGGERING CONTENT. there will be potentially triggering themes on this blog. this includes allusions to abuse, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, child neglect, and a lot of other toxic behaviors. if i miss tagging things in a thread, please do not hesitate to ask for it!

NSFW CONTENT. any nsfw or suggestive posts will be tagged cw usft. explicit nsfw will be under a read more if it appears.

ASK ME ANYTHING. this blog is permanently a work in progress. not all information may be available, if you don't see the information you need, or have any questions, please let me know.

[nursc-a2]

❛    That's no problem Unless you wanna tell me next that you're not one for people.    ❜

@nursc requested a starter.

"i'm really... not one for crowds. sorry."