#let it perform bottom surgery

[riseandfallofsecunit]

How I imagine this conversation went

[back-on-my-autistic-bullshit]

Reaching the level of insane about Parkour Civilization that I'm hitting characters with the transgender beam, and I paused to think about the logistics of it for a second

Is there top/bottom surgery in parkour civilisation

And if the answer is yes, they're paying for top/bottom surgery with parkour, obviously

[murderandcoffee]

avatar oc ideas so far:

eye avatar who feeds on the gossip and secrets of the people in his small town

slaughter victim (veteran) turned avatar (serial killer)

stranger avatar who embodies the fear of running into someone you never want to see again by adopting the visage of said person (idea from @melandrops)

end avatar based off of the washer at the ford/bean-nighe (a passive omen of death rather than an active bringer of it)

flesh avatar who performs gender-affirming surgeries on people with transphobic families (and uses the "disposed of" materials from said surgeries to build a "child" of sorts)

spiral avatar who turns horrors from people's nightmares into real things

inclement weather-themed desolation avatar (hurricanes, blizzards, tornadoes)

dark avatar who drags people into caves and mutates them to resemble cave-dwelling creatures (colorless skin, no eyes, etc.) until they are barely human anymore

buried avatar who lives at the bottom of the ocean and sabotages submarines/drowns divers

web avatar matchmaker who pulls people into bad relationships

vast avatar who untethers people from gravity and either lets them float endlessly upward or who makes them fall to their death (it depends on their mood)

hunt avatar who turns prey animals into predators and vice versa

extremophile extinction avatar who leads a doomsday cult

corruption avatar who withers/decays/erodes anything they touch

lonely avatar who disappears lone hikers in deep wilderness

bonus: spiral avatar who is a compulsive liar, but whose lies become true for whoever they tell them to

[ellsbclls]

Can I request something with Vi? Maybe like dating headcanons, or maybe where Vi and reader got separated after the council incident that happened but reunite after vi came a pit fighter, and once they see each other again talk a bit before making out

thank you thank you thank you thank you, angel 🥹 i had the absolute hardest time trying to choose which prompt to do, so for the time being i'm gonna word vomit about how good of a girlfriend vi would be, and then i'll work up the courage to execute such a fun and cool scenario!

𖨂 DATING VI HEADCANONS;

  ⟢ vi has always been lead by her heart and so, when she finds someone who embraces it — not for what it can be but for what it is — she lays her weapons down

  ⟢ during her shifts, she'll squirrel away at little souvenirs to bring home to you. it's not enough to just tell you about it, she needs to veil your mirror with a string of noxian banners, the emblem scratched away and embroidered with lily-shaped bolts and acrylic wire. she needs you to know that you're the first thing that comes to her mind when she sees something so tender in the face of violence. by the end of the week, your vanity is overflowing with so many little trinkets that its barely useful anymore, save for her gifts and the exhibition of them. and yet, when she slips the vein of a curling leaf into the palm of your hand, you find a sliver of space for it to live and stretch in front of the face of the mirror, listening intently while she explains how it marked the beginning of another fall with you.

  ⟢ when she finds herself close enough to you, she always tucks her head into the soft of your jaw. and not even in search of a kiss, or at the expense of her teeth. she just breathes you in, where your heartbeat lives, and rocks you back and forth, matching her rhythm the the flighty rate of it.

  ⟢ she hates to bother you with her gauze, and her dressing never cease to bother you. with how often she uses her hands, its inevitable that they will unravel, they'll tear and crease by the end of the day, but god forbid she asks you to help her. no, it won't be until you walk in on her in the bathroom, and she freezes in time — her canines snagging at the tail of a bandage roll while her other arm angles so precariously that it's almost comical. "i've got this," the words are so mangled between her teeth that you choose to ignore them. "i'm sure you do, but humor me." when you take the mantle, she can't help but notice how strong your hands are, how steady, like you're performing surgery. and in a way, you are, putting her back together the only way you know how — carefully.

  ⟢ despite her hands and how heavy they are, she touches you gently. near hesitant. her fingers sweep at the bottom of your eye when you’re drowsy, or tug at the corner of your mouth until it’s nothing but a cheesy half smile, clumsily obvious in her efforts to simply be near you. she’ll say “eyes up here, mister” when she notices how sleazy she’s making you look, but then blush into a blister when you do obey, flashing a pretty pair of doe eyes back at her, your sleazy smirk erupting into something saccharine and beguiled. she barely notices how easily you melt into her touches. so accustomed to drawing blood, to digging into the heel of her palm and restraining, that she feels giddy and drunk with the prospect of holding you and knowing you won’t falter.

  ⟢ she's also a little gross

  ⟢ well, a lot gross, actually. she’ll clean her runny nose with the bottom of her shirt, or dig it into the scruffy pink heat of her armpit and stop, letting the scent hit her tastebuds before she, without fail, shrugs it off. and whenever you catch her in the midst of doing something so gross, she’ll freeze and maintain an eerily impressive sort of eye contact with you, knowing full well that you’ll break eye contact with her before she has a chance to feel ashamed by her actions. it’s the price of growing up with brothers (+ jinx) and never paying for it.

  ⟢ in her restless hours, when you and your body lay half-hazed and dreamy, tucked into the throws and comforts of your bed, perfumed by the drowsy memory of a shower and toasted rice, she comes and crawls into the open spaces you’ve left. for her. to map out and nestle into from above the covers. when she finally finds you, as if you’re not impossibly intertwined already, she needles her arms around your back. nevermind how useless they become in the morning when the prick and pin of morning emerges. who cares? for just one selfish moment it’s just the two of you, cast to an island of quilted sands and dreams.

  ⟢ she also has a hard time saying no to you. the words come out, sure, but the actions never quite line up.

  ⟢ like one instance, early into the post-war rehabilitation efforts. most of piltover had been ravaged, a shiny metropolis brought to pieces — ivory rubble and the singing of distant songs. remarkably, the only remaining piece of infrastructure was the bridge to zaun. its made it easier for the relief efforts to come, and in droves they come — filling empty stomachs, arms aplenty with gauze and vodka, ornamenting what’s left of piltover with remnants of a zaun left unspoken for, whispers of something new and whole. and yet the only thing she hears is the hum of your voice, a gentle echo — "do you think the fish shop is still open?"

  ⟢ for you, it's simple, but to her the request is haunting. she hadn't the heart to tell you that, of the many things that zaun could not preserve, the fish shop was the first to go, and she had spent the remaining weeks finding ways to break it to you. but all fell short in comparison to just doing something about it, even if that something meant tracking the limescaled chef to the heart of zaun and requesting your order a la carte, her heavy gauntlet punctuating the request through the hardwood of his makeshift home.

[tkwrites]

Snapshots Masterlist

Quinn Hughes x ofc

Are Quinn Hughes and Sarah Roberts fated to be together? It seems like it. Follow their journey from a spur of the moment first date to falling in love and all the good and bad in between.

These snapshots are written in whatever order strikes my fancy, but there is a loose timeline they fall into. I've listed them in both posting and timeline order. There are some timeline inconsistencies that will be edited as needed. In the meantime, let's just agree to pretend they don't exist. Also, the season the Canucks are playing in is obviously fictional and doesn't follow any actual season.

• Please be aware, this series deals with a lot of grief.

The Snapshots playlist can be found here.

Other work can be found on my Fanfiction Masterlist.

*indecates smut

In Posting Order:

Shoot The Moon* The snapshot that started it all - Quinn comes home exhausted from a rough road trip. After a good night's sleep, he decides to try out some new things with Sarah. 

Love, Even in the Hard Parts When his mom can't make it to take Quinn to surgery, Sarah steps in in spite of her hatred of hospitals. 

Love Me Gently* Early on in their relationship, Quinn and Sarah have their first really sexual encounter, and learn about each other along the way. 

Our Heroes Meet: When Quinn and Sarah meet, they’re pulled into each other's lives in a way neither one expected. 

The Second Time is Better* Sequel to Love Me Gently, Quinn and Sarah have sex for the first time. After a disappointing first performance, they're in for an experience much deeper than either one expected. 

Worth the Wait: It takes more than a week, but Quinn and Sarah finally go on a date.  

Messages* Missing him something fierce, Sarah sends Quinn a video of herself in his bed. 

Second Nature: Sequel to Worth the Wait, Quinn and Sarah have their second date. Getting to know each other in many ways is like second nature.

First Fight: Quinn and Sarah have their first fight - we learn more about Quinn’s previous relationship

Better: Sequel to First Fight, Sarah meets Brady and Emma and is thrown into the world of hockey outside the rink. Jack and Luke hear about their relationship in a less than favorable way. 

Before I meet your parents...* As Sarah prepares to meet Quinn’s parents, she’s bombarded with new feelings and situations, as well as trying to manage her own life. A very worried Quinn helps her get to the bottom of it and does everything he can to make it better. 

Private Lessons: As requested by @eyesthatroll, Quinn teaches Sarah to skate.

I miss you.* After their longest separation of the summer, Quinn and Sarah reunite.

I miss you. - Bonus Scene* A short continuation of I miss you. Quinn and Sarah make soft, sleepy love as they doze off for the night.

Sarah Meets the Parents: As Requested, Sarah meets Ellen and Jim.

I can't believe you're here.* After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath. 

Happy Birthday, Sarah: Quinn is gone over Sarah’s Birthday. 

Let the Cleaners Deal With It: When Quinn wakes to Sarah frantically cleaning after unexpectedly getting her period, he insists she let the cleaners deal with it.

I'll Be Proud For You: When an opportunity for Quinn to meet her uncle arrives, Sarah jumps at the chance and they attend a St. Patrick's Day party at her uncle's house on Salt Spring Island. On the ferry ride back home, Sarah finally explains why she had to be close to family after her mothers death, necessitating her move to Vancouver. 

Elimination* When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed. 

Good For You* Quinn and Sarah have a discussion about and decide to stop using condoms before putting that decision into practice. A question we’ve all been waiting for is finally asked.

Please* After they finally move in together, Sarah follows through with Quinn's request for her to edge him.

Harrison Butker Drama: A blurb about Sarah and Quinn reacting to the Harrison Butker Drama.

Summer Decisions: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

He's Got It Bad: When Sarah meets the team at Conor's birthday party, not only does she get to know Quinns teammates and their partners, she enters a world she never expected. At practice the next day, the guys congratulate and tease Quinn mercilessly.

Understanding (or the one in which Jack Hughes is forced to get over himself): Still upset about finding out about her from Brady, Jack has some hesitations when he and Luke come to town for the Finals. Can he get over himself enough to see what Quinn and Sarah has is real?

Congratulations* Sarah congratulates Quinn on clinching into the playoffs

The Invitation: Jack extends Sarah an olive branch

Can I Watch?* The day after I miss you: When Quinn discovers a vibrator in Sarah’s toiletry bag, it sets them on a course of discovery and pleasure neither of them planned on. After a wild afternoon, they discuss their fantasies.

Shaving: A blurb of Sarah reacting to Quinn shaving his playoff beard.

Can I Come See You? After a rough game, Quinn seeks out comfort from Sarah. 

5 Days of Joy* Sarah joins Quinn at his family reunion. There’s laughter and tears and some spicy time as they sneak time alone. Sarah bonds with Jim over the loss of their mothers and explains why her dad loved Costco so much. She and Ellen bond over their partners being gone for stretches of time. A black bikini has Quinn practically drooling. The whole family goes on a beach adventure with Sarah in the lead. More than anything else, Quinn and Sarah fall more and more in love. 

Fantasy* A short blurb (500 words) about Quinn fulfilling a fantasy with Sarah's help.

Happy Birthday, Quinn: In an effort to get Quinn something he can’t get for himself, and with her friends’ encouragement, Sarah does something she never imagined she’d do before. When they finally celebrate his birthday together, Quinn opens several gifts he never expected. 

Happy Halloween! Quinn and Sarah plan for and attend the Canucks team Halloween Party.

A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride* Due to circumstances outside of his control, Quinn finds himself late to a FaceTime date with Sarah. When she starts some fun by herself, Quinn can’t help but join in, even if he can’t see her. 

In Timeline Order:

Our Heroes Meet: When Quinn and Sarah meet, they’re pulled into each other's lives in a way neither one expected. 

Worth the Wait: It takes more than a week, but Quinn and Sarah finally go on a date.  

Second Nature: Sequel to Worth the Wait, Quinn and Sarah have their second date. Getting to know each other in many ways is like second nature.

Can I Come See You? After a rough game, Quinn seeks out comfort from Sarah. 

Love Me Gently* Early on in their relationship, Quinn and Sarah have their first really sexual encounter, and learn about each other along the way. 

The Second Time is Better* Sequel to Love Me Gently, Quinn and Sarah have sex for the first time. After a disappointing first performance, they're in for an experience much deeper than either one expected. 

First Fight: Quinn and Sarah have their first fight - we learn more about Quinn’s previous relationship

Better: Sequel to First Fight, Sarah meets Brady and Emma and is thrown into the world of hockey outside the rink. Jack and Luke hear about their relationship in a less than favorable way. 

He's Got It Bad: When Sarah meets the team at Conor's birthday party, not only does she get to know Quinns teammates and their partners, she enters a world she never expected. At practice the next day, the guys congratulate and tease Quinn mercilessly.

I'll Be Proud For You: When an opportunity for Quinn to meet her uncle arrives, Sarah jumps at the chance and they attend a St. Patrick's Day party at her uncle's house on Salt Spring Island. On the ferry ride back home, Sarah finally explains why she had to be close to family after her mothers death, necessitating her move to Vancouver. 

Messages* Missing him something fierce, Sarah sends Quinn a video of herself in his bed. 

Before I meet your parents...* As Sarah prepares to meet Quinn’s parents, she’s bombarded with new feelings and situations, as well as trying to manage her own life. A very worried Quinn helps her get to the bottom of it and does everything he can to make it better. 

Sarah Meets the Parents: As Requested, Sarah meets Ellen and Jim.

Congratulations* Sarah congratulates Quinn on clinching into the playoffs.

Happy Birthday, Sarah: Quinn is gone over Sarah’s Birthday. 

Good For You* Quinn and Sarah have a discussion about and decide to stop using condoms before putting that decision into practice. A question we’ve all been waiting for is finally asked.

Private Lessons: As requested by @eyesthatroll, Quinn teaches Sarah to skate.

Shoot The Moon* The snapshot that started it all - Quinn comes home exhausted from a rough road trip. After a good night's sleep, he decides to try out some new things with Sarah. 

Summer Decisions: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

Let the Cleaners Deal With It: When Quinn wakes to Sarah frantically cleaning after unexpectedly getting her period, he insists she let the cleaners deal with it.

Harrison Butker Drama: A blurb about Sarah and Quinn reacting to the Harrison Butker Drama.

Understanding (or the one in which Jack Hughes is forced to get over himself): Still upset about finding out about her from Brady, Jack has some hesitations when he and Luke come to town for the Finals. Can he get over himself enough to see what Quinn and Sarah has is real?

Elimination* When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed. 

Shaving: A blurb of Sarah reacting to Quinn shaving his playoff beard.

Love, Even in the Hard Parts When his mom can't make it to take Quinn to surgery, Sarah steps in in spite of her hatred of hospitals. 

The Invitation: Jack extends Sarah an olive branch

5 Days of Joy* Sarah joins Quinn at his family reunion. There’s laughter and tears and some spicy time as they sneak time alone. Sarah bonds with Jim over the loss of their mothers and explains why her dad loved Costco so much. She and Ellen bond over their partners being gone for stretches of time. A black bikini has Quinn practically drooling. The whole family goes on a beach adventure with Sarah in the lead. More than anything else, Quinn and Sarah fall more and more in love. 

I miss you.* After their longest separation of the summer, Quinn and Sarah reunite.

I miss you. - Bonus Scene* A short continuation of I miss you. Quinn and Sarah make soft, sleepy love as they doze off for the night.

Can I Watch?* The day after I miss you: When Quinn discovers a vibrator in Sarah’s toiletry bag, it sets them on a course of discovery and pleasure neither of them planned on. After a wild afternoon, they discuss their fantasies.

Fantasy* A short blurb (500 words) about Quinn fulfilling a fantasy with Sarah's help.

Please* After they finally move in together, Sarah follows through with Quinn's request for her to edge him.

Happy Birthday, Quinn: In an effort to get Quinn something he can’t get for himself, and with her friends’ encouragement, Sarah does something she never imagined she’d do before. When they finally celebrate his birthday together, Quinn opens several gifts he never expected. 

Happy Halloween! Quinn and Sarah plan for and attend the Canucks team Halloween Party.

I can't believe you're here.* After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath. 

A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride* Due to circumstances outside of his control, Quinn finds himself late to a FaceTime date with Sarah. When she starts some fun by herself, Quinn can’t help but join in, even if he can’t see her. 

[lycandrophile]

Different anon. FGM is nearly the same to "bottom surgery". It's mutilation based on sex and genitals. The intent doesn't make it any less destructive or sad.

first of all, FGM is not at all nearly the same as bottom surgery, even just from a technical perspective. as many people in the replies of the last ask have pointed out, one difference is that bottom surgery involves the penis being either created from the clitoris or constructed on top of it, not removing it as with many forms of FGM.

but, for the sake of argument, let’s say they are similar surgeries on a technical level. do you really think it’s the kind of surgery that makes FGM bad? would you say that somebody who received a similar surgery for medical reasons was a victim of FGM?

what makes FGM “destructive and sad” is that:

it’s done to people who don’t want it.

it’s done to people who don’t actually know what’s being done to them or what the risks or consequences might be, so victims often find themselves living with complications for the rest of their lives that they never agreed to.

it has many potential harmful effects and no actual benefits.

gender affirming surgeries like bottom surgery don’t match any of those points. they’re:

performed only on people who actively want them and chose to have them done.

only ever done when the patient can give informed consent, meaning they know what the surgery entails and what the risks could be and have chosen to do it with that knowledge.

proven to have mental health benefits for the people who receive them, and are often considered medically necessary on that basis.

fundamentally, bottom surgery is an exercise of bodily autonomy while FGM is a violation of it. that’s what makes FGM so bad and makes the two so vitally different. mutilation is an act that causes serious harm without any true benefit; FGM fits that bill, bottom surgery doesn’t. saying the two are the same is like saying a medically performed abortion is the same as pushing a pregnant person down the stairs to cause a miscarriage: it focuses solely on the most literal understanding of what’s being done without any regard for the details or the impact on the people involved.

the problem with FGM is the fact that it’s being performed on people who can’t give informed consent and who will likely suffer from it while not gaining any benefits from it. if you actually care about victims of FGM, you should be upset about the violation of their bodies and lifelong suffering they’re subjected to, not the fact that it’s their genitals that are being altered.

[songmingisthighs]

Heaven's Haven

group : ateez

pairing : jongho × reader

genre : smut, romance

wc : 3.6 k

warning : explicit smut; oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex (ykw if you're financially ready for a kid and is no longer obsessed with supposed time travelling pirates, go for it), pwp ?, softer sex with a lot of description bc... it's jongho, have you looked at him? lmk what i missed

a/n : to those of you who encouraged me to give into my impulses, you'll be hearing from my lawyer. it's san. san is my lawyer. btw happy haribo day !!

a/a/n : at this point let's just agree that smt overdoes shit

buy me coffee ?

Every night you were reminded of how hardworking your boyfriend is. Most days you're proud of him while some days you were just worried. While he's not a workaholic with a hyperactive artistic brain like his captain, Kim Hongjoong, Jongho works when he's not even working. His whole life revolves around being a singer and a performer; his diet, his aversion to certain foods, and his workout regime. Frankly, the only thing that could stop him was when he went through surgery for his legs. While fans were disappointed when he couldn't join the tour, it was the best month of your life. You love taking care of him because he has been taking such good care of you. Which was why you designated his room as a no-outside-life zone. You made it your duty to rid Jongho of his responsibilities when he's in his room. Also his pants.

So coming into his room to find him sitting on his bed still clad in a suit after an interview he did, texting away on his phone, was not really surprising. You simply closed the door, put your bag down near it, and walked over to your boyfriend who was staring at his phone screen with his bottom lip jutted out adorably. "Jjongie, baby," you called out, barely getting a reaction out of him save for a low hum. You slot yourself between his legs while pushing his half-gelled back hair out of his face, can't stop smiling at your adorably sexy boyfriend, "You need to get out of these clothes, you've been in it the whole day and we need to get your cute butt into bed," you cooed, using the voice you would usually use on little children. "No need baby, I had dinner already," he replied, head tilting at his phone screen, way too preoccupied with whatever it is he was doing.

You wanted to get him to relax but knowing your boyfriend, you first need to detach him from whatever it is taking his attention. So you began your attempts. Rather pathetically because even with eyes glued to his phone, Jongho managed to evade your hands catching the device and even foiling your fake easily. Huffing and puffing, you were determined but so was Jongho. Had he ever given you any reason to suspect infidelity, you would've been very mad for a whole different reason.

After a solid 5 minutes of failed attempts, you detached yourself from your boyfriend with a glare, cursing him and his entire coming bloodline (that you may or may not consider being involved in) for being... Well, him. At this point, he must've known what you were doing right? "Jongho," you called out but were met with silence, "Choi Jongho," you tried again but no luck.

In a desperate attempt, you decided to take some drastic measures that might or might not work, depending on Jongho's mood. You shimmied out of your pants quietly, leaving your panties on purposefully in case your plan failed yet again. You were attempting to give Jongho a pouncing as the element of surprise might give you an upper hand. Boy, you never realized how much planning goes into this part of the relationship. And by 'this', you absolutely mean taking care of a grown adult.

Without further ado, you walked back over to your boyfriend who seemed like he had no plans of letting his phone go and jumped right into action. Jongho yelped slightly when he felt his left shoulder pushed down out of nowhere and when he looked up, he realized that you had used your leg to maneuver him into lying down on his back and plopping down on his chest. The look in his eyes was rather priceless and it took everything in you to not celebrate your half success just yet. Instead, you used your knees to hold his large shoulders in place as your shins pressed his wrists down, preventing him from moving. Or so you convinced yourself. You've seen him carry his members around like a sack of flour, you were sure that he could at least flip you over. Not that you would mind.

In his position, Jongho tried to break free (barely) but you only pressed him further to the point that he let his phone go. "Okay, hi?" he grinned cheekily, looking innocent as if your cunt wasn't a flimsy fabric away from being completely exposed whilst being at eye level with Jongho. "Hi?" pouting, you slapped him on his chest, "You have been ignoring me since I stepped into this room, Choi Jongho and I don't like it!" you complained. "Is that why you're rewarding me?" Jongho asked with an eyebrow raised in question. Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure at what he meant and just as you were about to ask him, you felt his body jolt up slightly which caused your ass to slide forward and your clothed cunt to make contact with Jongho's mouth, effectively causing you to freeze in shock. Your reaction then wasn't as bad as the next though because when you felt the vibration from Jongho humming into your cunt, you gasped and your thighs tensed. "Look at my baby trying to take care of me by giving me something so sweet," he said, the movement from his lips was so palpable on your nether ones that it made your breath catch in your throat, intensely heightening Jongho's effect on you. Just as you had taken Jongho's shock to your benefit, Jongho too took your hazed state to slip his hands from your hold. When you realized what he did, you whined in protest, not wanting him to push you off just yet. But much to your surprise, you found his left hand cupping your ass as the other found purchase on your inner thigh, his thumb gently caressing the bit of skin under the shirt you were wearing, just above your underwear line. The touch left you tingling, your spine shot up as if electricity shot through you straight from where Jongho's tongue was tasting you over your underwear.

"J-Jongho," you whimpered, wanting to say something that you yourself can't figure out, you weren't even sure you should be saying anything but you were sure that some form of response should be given. Jongho had managed to melt your brain with his kitten licks to your covered clit. He somehow managed to find it easily despite not being able to get a visual. Seems like he just knew you that well. Just to be a complete ass about it, Jongho hummed into your pussy again for good measure, causing you to let out a shuddered sigh and making your head drop back. Whatever it was you thought you needed to do when Jongho began to get his taste of you went out the window, you convinced yourself that teasing the fuck out of you count as a non-working activity because it truly was and he was doing such a good job. Your mind shattered when you felt his thumb move your panties to the side and you felt his talented tongue slither between your lower lips. "Fuck!" the sound you make felt perfect to Jongho, enough to drive him to take your pulsing clit between his teeth and lightly nibble on it. Pain isn't something that you always liked during sex with your previous partners. You had had some experiences but none of them resulted in you feeling that good. Sure, there was some pleasure, but not enough to make the pain worth it. But for some reason, with Jongho, the pain he gave during sex only heightened as pleasure. You love the edge it gave you, that bite he gives be it literally or figuratively.

Your boyfriend is someone who is always in control and when he does it, he does it so seamlessly that it wasn't even obvious that he had control. How you love the showcase of subtle prowess like how he was gripping your hips so tightly, making sure that you wouldn't be able to chase your high by riding his face, making sure that you were completely dependent on him, that you were in his mercy. "Jongho, more!" you moaned, groaning when Jongho let his blunt nails dig into the skin of your thigh possessively. You looked down to see Jongho raising an eyebrow from between your legs, "Look at you forgetting your manners after being given a little taste of pleasure," a rush of warmth rushed to your cheeks when you heard the teasing edge in Jongho's voice. Jongho wasn't one to be into degradation, he had drawn a certain line on the matter because, in his own words, he cared about you too much to put you down. So your shyness was based on the knowledge that he found you endearing, precious even when you were so affected by him. Unintentionally, your cunt clenched as his tongue grazed upon your opening.

In a flash, you were suddenly under Jongho. His face was still level with your cunt but he was now hovering above, looking at your dumbfounded expression with a satisfied look on his face. Jongho didn't try to hide his amused chuckle when he saw you pouting but he bit his bottom lip to stop himself from actually laughing as you reached to grab the lapels of his suit with both of your hands after managing to take off your own shirt and saliva-slicked panties.

"You need to lose at least one article of clothing. It's not fair," you muttered at him, trying to tug his clothes off despite the struggle due to your position. In his mind, Jongho had considered ignoring your request, wanting to tease you more or at least make you wait. But how can he do that when he knew you had his best interest in mind? Surely, it's also because you want to see his beefed build but he liked to believe that it was just your way of telling him that it's time for him to shed his responsibilities and just rest. So with a nod, Jongho pushed himself up slightly so he could take his suit jacket off and tossed it to the side haphazardly. "Better?" he asked but you immediately shook your head, "I swear, you better be as naked as the day you were born just as God intended or so help me I will find the strength to rip your shirt off of you," you huffed. It was obvious that you were getting impatient and despite your threat and the absolute seriousness in your voice, Jongho knew that you'd just ended up making him undress himself. You were so adorable in Jongho's eyes, he didn't know how you could be so whiny and bossy at the same time. It made his cock twitch in his pants.

Slowly, Jongho crawled up your body to pepper tiny butterfly kisses all over your face, distracting you from his undressing. "I'm sorry for not giving you attention right away, baby. I was too wrapped up in my work, wasn't I?" he softly asked against the skin of your cheek, making you whimper and try to bury your face in his shoulder. "That's okay, Jongho. I just worry about you," when Jongho pulled away slightly, you couldn't help but push the fallen hair from his forehead and cupped his face, "I love you so much," you smiled.

As soon as your profession of love slipped your lips, you felt something hard and heavy enter you. Jongho was halfway inside you when you gasped, hands dropping to claw at his arms that were holding himself up on your sides. Inch by inch Jongho nestled himself inside you as he watched how your face changed the more he pushed. At this point, Jongho's breathing had changed; he inhaled more sharply and exhaled longer, eyes clouded with lust as he paid you all the attention he could muster. He loved watching you unravel under him, it was his favourite thing to watch and he loved savouring each moment, taking in the way your eyes clamped shut and eyebrows furrowed that would usually be accompanied by whimpers that escaped your lips. It wasn't like you both jumped on each other's bones every night as you both considered sex to be a very intimate activity. But by no means do you not do it often nor do you schedule or even make an appointment for sex. What kind of a lunatic would have a calendar for coitus? No, Jongho loved the organic way you and he reacted to each other. When it's time, it's time and the spontaneity tends to egg his exhilaration.

"I'm sorry, (y/n)," he grinned cheekily once you seemed more relaxed, adapted to having him once again wholly inside you, "But you can't expect me to not do anything after you told me you love me." Looking over briefly, you noticed that Jongho managed to unbutton his shirt completely, showing you his beautiful chest and firm abdomen muscle paired with unbuttoned and unzipped pants shoved just a little bit past his cock so the appendage would be completely out. You simply pouted and clicked your tongue at him, "Not undressed and no warning, what kind of boyfriend are you, Choi Jongho?" Chuckling at your protest, Jongho ducked down again to brush his lips against yours, "The best kind, of course," once his lips melded with yours, your annoyance immediately melted, opting to wrap your arms around his neck loosely instead. "And I love you too," he added against your lips.

Jongho's hips begin rocking seconds later, setting a slow pace for him and you to enjoy. The arms that anchored his weight on the sides of your head soon moved; one was carefully cradling the back of your neck as the other slipped around your waist. The more Jongho rocked his hips, the closer you both became until eventually you were chest to chest. In the position you both were in, there was not much room for movement but God, when you slipped your hands under his shirt, the feeling of Jongho's warm skin directly on yours was wonderful. Not to sound like an absolute pervert, but you've always found Jongho to have the softest back. While people expected you to feel his muscles first (which are bulging, thick, and aesthetically pleasing), you shattered all expectations behind closed doors. Even Jongho was surprised when you mentioned the softness of the planes of his entire back. It became a habit for you to let your palm drag along the expanse, making Jongho shudder and allowing his muscles to tighten in desire. To add to that, when you buried your face in his shoulder, you could smell his natural musk. It's not sweat per se, it's just... Jongho. Maybe it was his Diptyque Do Son that clung to the fabric of his clothes mixed with pheromones wafting in the air that gave off a sweet floral scent that had an edge of sharpness to it, but he somehow smelled like home to you. If you could, you'd gladly drown in the scent and evaporate along with it when the time comes, refusing to part. To make things worse for you, the sounds Jongho made were just heavenly. While your past partners had ruined sex by saying stupid things like 'I will wreck you' and 'I'll make sure you're ruined for other men' and not delivering, Jongho was on the quieter side. He almost never moaned out loud, only letting out grunts and huffs and occasionally whimpers when he was needy. Maybe it was because he's a vocalist, a damn great one at that, but even the softest sounds he made gave off vibrations that travelled to you, sending your pupils shaking and stomach tightening. Especially like this, when you both were chest-to-chest, faces on each other's shoulders, the effect of the sounds Jongho made shot right through your cunt, making you clench over and over when the vibrations hit just right. You pity his fans who didn't get to feel what you felt.

Sex with Jongho is not just sex, it's not even just lovemaking where everything is romantic and meaningful. It's a whole experience that left you dizzy and craving for more yet you know that if you had too much of it, it would just drive you absolutely mad. While it isn't much of a conversation topic, you had spoken about your sex life with your friends and most (if not all) stated that it sounded rather vanilla and uneventful. But they don't know what kind of intensity sex with Jongho bring. It's not balls slapping, sweaty bodies sliding off of each other, and drool splattering everywhere as he made you squirt your release over and over again like the damn Bellagio Fountain. The experience was beyond words but you definitely felt vulnerably close to Jongho and you could feel him being so close to you too. Everything was laid bare for either to take. Figuratively and literally. Though the occasional crazy monkey sex filled with experiments and teasings still happened, on the norm, this was your heaven.

You wondered how Jongho hadn't lost his pace. Sure, his thrusts became more powerful as his drive was reignited, but the pace was steady yet not monotone. To add to your own pleasure, you lifted your legs slightly, casing Jongho's hips between your knees. The position allowed your hips to be more open to Jongho, letting your clit make direct contact with his pubic bone so each thrust he delivered came with your clit being rubbed just right. "Fuck!" you exclaimed, head burying deeper into Jongho's shoulder as your hands pressed down his back; from his large shoulders to the dip in the middle, and finally arriving on his exposed ass. You joked that he has an adorable tushy on a daily basis at random times, causing him to cover your mouth whilst blushing because he was embarrassed at how cavalier you were with his gluteal area. But when you showed appreciation to his ass during sex, it proved to make him confident, proud of himself and how hard he worked to have an ass deserving of appreciation by his lover. A confident Jongho is a sexy Jongho and a sexy Jongho always rocked your world in his own way.

Jongho absolutely loved this position as he felt so close to you. While it was a shame that he couldn't see you, the fact that he was able to feel all of you made up for it. From the way your knees tried to close in on his large frame and the way your hips rocked along with his, he knew you were close. His favourite feeling however was the feeling of your stomach muscle tightening under him because it made your back arch and your body to be pressed even closer to him (not that it was possible). Jongho could feel the coil building in your core, ready to be released with just the right persuasion.

"You can cum, I'll help you cum," he grunted into your ear as he allowed the hand that was cupping the back of your neck to somehow slip between your bodies. Your eyes shot open when Jongho simultaneously pulled your hips to meet his completely while his hand pressed to your lower stomach. Immediately, the tension intensified due to the added pressure, forcing a jolt out of your body. All over your body, your muscles tensed which caused you to cling onto Jongho desperately. "Jongho!" you whined accidentally, immediately biting down on Jongho's shoulder to muffle your sound once your coil finally snapped and you came hard. Jongho's eyes shut close at the pleasure of your cunt sucking him in with its grip as if preventing him to get away even just momentarily. Jongho kept thrusting to help you ride your high as he chased his own, movements a lot more fluid thanks to your release. Thanks to your spasming body that added tactile pleasure from skin-on-skin stimulation, Jongho was able to release inside you. Your eyes fluttered open slowly and your pupils dilated when you saw the muscles of Jongho's entire backside tense as he came and even more so, his ass. The sight got you grinding back on Jongho as if returning the favour of him helping you ride your high.

Once both of your bodies relaxed, Jongho sagged and let his weight drop on you, positioning himself so that he wouldn't crush you with his weight but still enough to cover you with his warmth. You winced and whined when Jongho pulled his cock out of you, your hips chasing after him made Jongho grin. With his newfound freedom, Jongho pushed his pants completely off and kicked them to the floor and the garment was soon joined by his now wrinkled shirt. Just as quickly as Jongho took his clothes off, he returned to his spot whilst pulling his blanket, covering you to your chest before pulling you into his arms.

"I don't know how I got so lucky with you," he said as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. You bit back a smile that may threaten to split your face to reciprocate, kissing him right on his neck mole. Despite it being a gentle kiss, Jongho still shuddered and you adored him for that. "And I don't know how I got so lucky with you. I love you, Jongho, so much," you said, resting your cheek firmly on his chest which allowed you to feel how hard Jongho's heart was beating.

"I love you too, my love. More than you know," he said before letting his eyes close to rest for the night.

Although you were laid in his arms, Jongho felt as if he was the one being embraced, enveloped in love and affection. It was the kind of feeling that encompassed him so comfortably that it lulled him to sleep. In the safety of his haven.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @thesolarplanetarysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread @spooo00oky @jwnghyuns @cutie-wooyo @asjkdk @shinotani @aestheticsluut

@chloepurpy

[em-omer]

This is Not a Scam – Let Me Prove It

I completely understand if you’re hesitant to help because of the scams circulating these days, especially involving Gaza. Please know, my story is real, and I’m happy to prove it. If you’d like, I can provide you with a copy of my ID, and you can send any donations directly via Western Union using my name and ID number. If that still isn’t enough, I’m willing to arrange a video call to show you my family’s living conditions and the reality of life here in Gaza. Your trust means everything, and I want to reassure you that your support will truly help my family survive.

---

A Plea for Help: The Masoud Family's Struggle for Survival in Gaza

My name is Saadiya, and my family has faced unimaginable horrors due to the ongoing conflict in Gaza. We lived a simple life in Jabalia, in northern Gaza, before the war turned our world upside down. Our home was bombed, and in an instant, everything we knew was destroyed.

My husband suffered severe injuries to his chest and legs during the bombing. He urgently needs to travel abroad for medical treatment, as his condition is critical. His physical wounds are devastating, but the psychological toll is equally unbearable. He is heartbroken, watching our family struggle to find food and medicine every day, feeling utterly helpless.

Our children—five-year-old twins Omar and Zein, and three-year-old Zeina—have been through unimaginable trauma. When our house was hit, Omar suffered a spinal injury after a pillar collapsed on him. We barely escaped the rubble with our lives and were forced to flee south, not knowing if my husband was alive or where he had been taken due to the severity of his injuries. For nearly a month, my children and I wandered, living on the streets, surviving on one meager meal a day, and sleeping wherever we could find a bit of shelter.

After a month of desperate searching, I finally found my husband at Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital. He was exhausted, still carrying shrapnel in his chest. However, due to the lack of medical equipment in Gaza, no hospital could perform the necessary surgery to save him. We now live together in a tent with three other families at an UNRWA school in Deir al-Balah, clinging to each other as we try to survive.

We are in dire need of help. My husband and son Omar urgently need pain relief medication, and all of us are suffering from skin diseases and rashes due to the lack of basic hygiene supplies like soap and shampoo. Our children are eating unhealthy canned food every day, and we desperately need fresh, nutritious food for them.

I am humbly asking for your help. Even a small donation can make a huge difference in our lives. Your kindness can help us secure the medicines, hygiene supplies, and food that we so desperately need. Please, from the bottom of my heart, I ask you to share our story and help in any way you can. Every contribution, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to relief and gives us hope for a better tomorrow.

Please donate and share our story: https://gofund.me/42ba47b3

[glubby-guppiez]

*Random TMNT 2012 (mainly side characters) hc's bcuz hyperfixation

*(this is the best divider to ever exist btw)

*Warnings: Spoilers for TMNT 2012 ofc, mentions of gender dysphoria and trans related insecurity, transphobia, accidental arson, bullying, manipulation, ptsd, also the tone of the headcanons shift randomly also also typing quirk

*Chris Bradford is trans. )(e did a full transition, he did hormones, voice training, top and bottom surgery, a few different surgeries to make him look/feel more masculine, all the bells and whistles, even went the extra mile to do procedures to hide his surgery scars. )(e's closeted and does about everything in his power to make sure no one even question that he was assigned female at birth because he's scared of his social image of being the great macho man, Chris Bradford, crumbling.

*Leo mainly or solely uses fandom and fanfic socials like Wattpad, AO3, Amino, Tumblr, and maybe Twitter. She mainly interacts with Space )(eroes and Crognard The Barbarian fan posts and shows a special interest in gender swap aus.

*Later on, post show with Muckman's help the mutants are actually able to freely walk around humans without them completely flipping out and starting a mob to witch hunt after them.

*Speaking of walking around humans, Napoleon and the frogs down in Louisiana are considered local urban legend and humans get really excited when they spot the frogs in the woods.

*Dr. Rockwell is a very big coffee enjoyer and used to secretly steal coffee from the nearby shops around the mighty mutanimals hideout and on the rare occasion when someone caught him and called him out he would always use the excuse of the shops being owned by big corporations.

*Don Visioso is a deadbeat father of 5. )(e also has had multiple wives and many divorces.

*Mondo Gecko will call people posers if he's jealous enough of them.

*Ivan Steranko is also trans but has only had hrt and face masculinizing surgery and refuses to get top and bottom surgery.

*Anton Zeck is incredibly smart and performed extremely well in high school and even got free scholarships for how well he did.

*Shinigami is a big video game nerd and will geek out if anyone mentions one of the games she plays.

*The reason Anton hated the mutant name Mikey gave him at first is because it either sounds a lot like or straight up is a nickname old bullies of him gave in order to make fun of him.

*Premutation, Chris acts transphobic towards Xever (despite Xever being cis) out of jealousy and insecurity.

*Baxter Stockman is either a gay aroace trans mspec nonbinary man or a cishet ally. No in-between.

*Mini April cluster!!!:

*April has a deep love for literature and writes poetry in her spare time.

*She almost burned down the culinary class in her school once.

*She's questioning aroace.

*She felt extra empathy for Muckman because he reminded her of Kirby a little bit.

*She likes to hide stickers around the lair whenever has them on her person.

*She thoroughly enjoys having long conversations with each of the individual turtles. (It's her favorite way to spend time with anyone tbh)

*April does eventually take some time to properly learn Japanese and becomes pretty decent at speaking and reading it.

*)(er and Donnie often like to geek out together whenever they find anything new about aliens (both species they haven't seen yet and ones they know well like the kraang).

*End of the mini April cluster!!!

*Kirby O'Neil is a pretty decent cook. That man can make a mean chicken stew.

*Shinigami actually owns multiple cats. 2 ragdoll, 1 sphinx, 1 Persian, and 3 British shorthairs (I could name them all, but I don't wanna). Also, the majority of them are black cats. She feeds strays, too.

*The last headcanon is much to Karai's dismay because she is somewhat allergic. She gets headaches, her skin gets slightly irritated and she gets the sniffles if she's around cats for too long.

*Casey's younger sister wants to be a hair stylist when she grows up, so Jones let's her do his hair every once in a while and he flexes it to every one at the lair like: "Oh? My hair? Yeah, my sister did it for me. Pretty metal, what she did with it, right?"

*Tigerclaw is the only Foot Clan member to not bully Baxter Stockman.

*Someone manipulated and lied to Alopex in order to make her hate and hunt down her brother.

*After season 4, Baxter Stockman leaves New York and takes over Stockman Industries. (If you're unaware of what that is, it's on billboards that the turtles pass throughout the show the most notable appearance being in the ending scene of the final season 4 episode, 'Owari'.)

*Slash deep down still misses The Newtralizer.

*Leatherhead kind of freaks out (apologies for the bad wording) when someone fully wraps their arms around his neck when hugging him because it reminds him of the restraints the Kraang put him in.

*Pigeon Pete learns how to bake so he can make his own bread.

*The turtles get a Wii (or whatever the universes equivalent is).

*Mondo Gecko gets an old Xbox and plays Tony )(awk games, Bully, and Twisted Metal on it.

*Ivan and Anton actually move out to New Jersey post show.

*Alr, that's all for now, toodles!!!

[strawberrysmootji]

Chapter 4 | Aucades fortuna juvat

Fortune favours the bold

18+ fic, minors do not interact!

Chapter summary: Aemond needs your help with something that involves his doctor’s practice and sensitive information you are not allowed to look at.

(edited)

Chapter warnings/tags: Mentions of death, corpses, dead family members, mention of dead child, inaccurate medical procedures, blood, maybe ooc Aemond???, reader not being able to mind her own business

if any of these things are not to your liking/ are triggering i recommend not to read it! Word count: 2.8k Rigor Mortis Masterlist | Main Masterlist

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“I really don’t understand why you would need me, my prince-” “Aemond, you should call me Aemond.” “I really don’t understand why you would need me, Aemond.” 

Honestly, he hadn’t even told you why he needed you as an assistant. He was a surgeon, he should be able to do things himself. You followed him through the long winding hallways of the castle, he was walking rather quickly. It confused you to no end. What was he in such a hurry for? 

“King’s Landing’s first surgical theatre has opened and they have asked me to perform.” 

Gods, you really hoped it wouldn’t be you who ended up on the operating table. 

“That sounds like an honour.”

“It is.”

His body was so stiff as he walked. Could he be…no.. “You’re nervous.” You pointed out before you could stop yourself from saying it. Aemond stopped dead in his tracks and turned to you. His body language was definitely stiffer than before. He didn’t seem agitated but almost embarrassed that he got caught.

“I am not.” 

Oh, he definitely was. 

You stopped yourself from saying more that could possibly agitate or embarrass him further. You were his future wife, you should start acting like it! You quickly gathered some confidence and spoke up.

“I think it’s normal to be nervous for such things-” “I am not nervous.” He interrupted you with a small scoff. Gods, he was stubborn. 

“Right…” 

Without a word Aemond continued to walk to his practice and of course, you followed you. You made a mental note not to point out his possible insecurities for a while. 

The two of you arrived at his clean practice. You had seen it before but it still surprised you. It was less messy than that time you had seen it on his little tour. Except for his desk. He had a small adjacent office that was separated by a wall and a rather large window. Through the window you could see the books, files and letters scattered around as if he was desperately trying to figure out what to do with them. 

“I need someone to organise…this.” He motioned at his office behind the glass window. He could’ve had a maid doing this but instead he wanted you to do it and you couldn’t wrap your head around as to why. 

“I have a last minute surgery planned for this afternoon. Your handmaidens…they told me you kept your room organised, so I need your…help.” It was very clear to you he absolutely despised the word ‘help’. He said it in such a unique way that you had wondered if he had ever asked someone for help in the first place. You weren’t surprised though. Aemond seemed like a person that wanted to do everything on his own. Still, his sudden request was suspicious. He barely knew you, let alone trust you.  

Was he testing you?

“Of course, I would love to help.” 

He nodded and took off his long black coat. He hung it over the wooden coat rack in the corner of his practice and led you to his office. He wore a simple plain black vest with black buttons and a simple white shirt that puffed out at the bottom of the sleeves. His new short hair suited his choice of clothing well. His stature was straight and stable. His vest accentuated his back well and you and to mentally scold yourself to stop staring at it. 

“These cabinets are for patient files, you mustn’t read them under any circumstances.” He told you as he showed you the half empty wooden drawers. The rest of the files were scattered around the offices on various surfaces. You still couldn’t wrap your head around it. How could someone like Aemond, who kept his practice so incredibly clean, neat and organised make such a mess of his office? It simply did not make any sense. 

He continued to explain where to put the books and other various things that were scattered around. You couldn’t focus on his voice, you were too busy analysing the mess in his office. It didn’t look like it was made in a fit of rage, Aemond clearly wasn’t a slob either. The mess looked too…staged to be genuine.

This was a test.

What kind of test, you did not know. At least you knew it was one. 

“My patient will be here soon.”

You nodded and watched as he left the small office. You could see everything through the window of his office. The metal operating table shone brightly in the sunlight. His practice was an unique room. It had large, tall windows that overlooked the Blackwater Bay. The ceiling was made out of glass, you suspected it was modified so that the room would be bright enough for surgery. You had heard of it before. Hospitals all over the realm had their surgery rooms on the top floor so they could make a ceiling out of glass. Of course, in a castle as large as this one it would be quite difficult.

You watched as he laid a white sheet over the metal table, blocking the bright reflection of the sun. He took out his instruments and when he laid the bonesaw on the smaller table next to the operating table you glanced away, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it on his patient. You instead, gazed at the ‘mess’ in the small office. The walls had a brown, plain wallpaper and you suspected the floor was made out of hardwood. All of his furniture matched and the space lacked any decorating if you did not count his degrees that hung framed on the wall behind his desk. 

You gathered all the papers that were scattered around the floor on his dark hardwood desk. The desk seemed new and modern, it had drawers on both ends of the desk with gold coloured handles, though, judging the fortune of this family you wouldn’t be surprised if it were actual gold. From the corner of your eye you could see the patient entering his practice. It was Ser Criston who escorted the man, they couldn’t let a stranger wander around the castle of course. 

Aemond talked to his patient, they even glanced at you a few times as you tried to get some structure in the mess. The patient changed into his scrubs and laid on the metal surgery table. Out of instinct you turned around so you wouldn’t have to see the procedure, you could later claim you wanted to give the patient more privacy. You opened the drawers and started sorting the patient files like your father had taught you how to organise important factory files. On alphabetical order and from up to down. Once that was done you glanced at the other folders. Some were financials, others death reports…lot’s of death reports…

Oh you knew you shouldn’t look into those

But you really wanted to

He did say he didn’t want you looking into the patient files, he never said anything about the death reports…right?

You glanced out the window and immediately regretted it. Aemond had just made an incision across the entire chest of the patient. A few nurses had come in while you were working, they wore long white scrubs that were already stained with the blood of the patients. Some of the nurses giggled like schoolgirls when Aemond addressed them and a flare of jealousy soared through your body. 

‘Dumb girls…’ You thought in anger and let out a small huff. You gazed back at Aemond, he wasn’t paying attention to you, neither did the nurses. You looked through a few death reports. You found Tayla’s certificate pretty quick, it was the one on top of the pile, the most recent one.

You glanced over your shoulder again but quickly turned your head around with regret. Of course your betrothed was pulling aside the skin of the patient.

You opened Tayla’s file, there wasn’t much information. There was a small sketch of the human body with two black dots on the eyes. Aemond’s handwriting was difficult to read, doctor’s handwriting..classic, but the small drawing clearly indicated the injuries on the body. 

It was strange, you knew it was always this way but it still seemed strange to you. How can someone die of just having their eyeballs taken out? That made absolutely no sense. You decided to read more but much was blacked out. The strangest thing was the cause of death being blacked out. To you, it would be loss of eyeballs or even drowning but if Aemond filled out something else… Then he must know what happens to the victims.

After digging through some more death reports you had quickly realised the ones with a simple turquoise circle stamp were the victims of the Blackwater Bay. You started to put them aside and organised the normal files first. Thank the gods Aemond wrote dates on them all. You organised the normal files in alphabetical order and when that was finished you could finally tackle the Blackwater Bay reports. 

You put them all by date first, longest ago on the bottom and the most recent one on top. While you were sorting it out you noticed a large gap in dates. There was a large gap that lasted from 1865-1969. A four year gap. The older death certificates before 1865 were written in a different handwriting than that of Aemond. Curiously you opened a file to see who it was signed by. Name: Bor WatersAge: 40/41Date of birth: //?//?//1810Date of death: 30-09-1841

Cause of Death: blacked out

Signed by: Dr. Otto Hightower Otto Hightower? Aemond’s grandfather?

You opened the drawer with the normal death reports and searched from one with a date before 1866. It was again signed by Otto Hightower. Perhaps Aemond took over the clinic from his grandfather? It would certainly explain how the Hightowers had gotten to know the Targaryens. He must’ve been their personal physician. You wanted to ask Aemond about it, but then he would know you had looked through the reports. Perhaps you could ask Helaena, she was kind, even with her queer quirks. Then again, she might tell Aemond about it. Aegon then? You really didn’t want to ask Aegon for help. 

You sighed and glanced over your shoulder again. Aemond was stitching the patient back up, that meant he would be finished soon. At a rapid speed you organised the rest of the folders in the hardwood drawer. While you picked the last one up a name flashed by. A familiar name. You halted your movement and looked at the folder with the light turquoise stamp on it. The date and name written with a shaky handwriting, but still readable, handwriting. Daeron TargaryenYour heart started beating faster and faster. You knew you would be imposing on some very personal information but you had to know. Your curious nature couldn’t be contained in that moment, even if you knew you really shouldn’t look. 

Name: Daeron TargaryenAge: 12

Date of birth: 23-03-1853

Date of death: 11-04-1865Cause of death: blacked outSigned by: Dr. Otto Hightower

You didn’t know how long you were staring at the file but all you could think about was Daeron. He was dead. He died when he was only twelve.

Gods, how old was Aemond back then? Fourteen? Helaena must’ve been fifteen then…and Aegon seventeen. That is too young to be losing a loved one, especially a youngest brother. Your hands were still trembling as you read it. You closed the folder again, you couldn’t bear to look any longer at the human shape with its eyes crossed out. It was disturbing to think a grandfather had to fill out his grandson’s own death report.

“What are you reading?” Out of instinct you turned around and hid the file behind your back. There stood Aemond with a large scowl on his face and his white apron coloured red from his patient’s blood. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room. You could feel the blood rushing to your face while you made eye contact with your betrothed. 

“Look, I can explain-” “I told you not to read the files.” “I was only curious-” “Those are confidential.” Aemond kept interrupting you. You could see how hard he was trying to stay calm. His arms were stiff at his sides and his hands were trembling.

You really, really, really messed up. 

“I know, I-.” You stammered awkwardly, there were no excuses you could make. Claiming you were curious would only worsen the situation. “I’m sorry.” You replied and stopped hiding the file behind your back. You knew he would find out sooner than later and it would be best to be cooperative if you wanted to salvage any sort of bond the two of you previously had. You held out the file to Aemond so he could take it from you. You felt sick in the stomach. You knew you should’ve minded your own business. You should’ve never looked, then maybe you could’ve prevented having to hand your betrothed the death report of his twelve year old brother. 

Aemond snatched the file from your hand and walked around you to slam it on his desk. He took the apron off and threw it in the corner of the room and sat down in the leather desk chair. “Look, Aemond-” “You have done enough.”

His words were cold and stern. He was really upset. He harshly pulled one of his desk drawers open and pulled out a small box filled with a few glass eyes. All you could do was stare as he tried to take out the glass eye that matched his eye colour. His frustration only grew when it wasn’t budging like he wanted to. “Fuck!” He slammed his fist on the table, his breath was heavy from the anger and frustration that was only building up in his body. He hadn’t dismissed you yet, that had to count for something, right? Your legs moved on their own while you slowly approached him. You made your way around the desk and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He didn’t shrug it off, he didn’t seem to get more angry. That was good. “Let me help.” You offered kindly, your voice was soft and caring. You felt incredibly guilty, you were the one that put him into his mood after all. “You don’t know how to do it.” He grumbled in anger. “Teach me then…” Aemond was silent for a moment. It seemed to last forever but he finally turned his head to face you. There was an evident frown on his face and he let out a deep sigh.

“You shouldn’t have been snooping through my files.” He told you sternly. “I know, I am truly sorry.”

He paused again. “Are you going to explain to me why you did it?” 

You nodded and told him. You told him about seeing Daeron’s name on a door. You told him about listening in on the conversation between Alicent and Ser Criston, about how Ser Criston had nearly caught you and how Aegon had basically saved you by pulling you into Daeron’s room unseen. 

Aemond shook his head in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Your curiosity is going to kill you one day.” “I know-” “Listening in on my mother, the queen?” “I know, it was a stupid idea and I won’t do it again.” Aemond sighed again and glanced up at you. “Curiosity kills the cat.” “You really don’t have to remind me.” You awkwardly replied. Aemond urged you to come closer so you did. He took your hand in his and gently squeezed it. 

“No more snooping around and no more reading any of my files, understood? Normally I would never make an exception like this but you are to be my wife and I suppose I can understand why you did what you did. Promise me you won’t do it again and we can start over.” He asked you sternly, though, there was a certain sense of softness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before. It was a strange but welcome change. 

You nodded in response. “I swear I won’t.” Aemond nodded, he seemed not to fully trust you yet but he left it at that. He let go of your hand and you strangely missed the feeling of his much larger hand being wrapped around yours. 

“I must admit, I have been quite secretive. I have kept you in the dark about important things that you should know if you become part of this family.” Well…he was right about that. 

“I promise, I will tell you soon.”

Aemond sighed again and firmly nodded, you thought it was mostly to himself.

“Now…help me get this damned eye out.” 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Taglist: @helaenaluvr @saltedcaramelpretzel @certifiedhaters @imawhorecrux @jbaby2

[justgrey]

wsg gng

sorry i got hit by a bus, put in hospital, gave birth to 7 dwarves in the span of 2 days, and opened a strip club but we ballin' you guys

have this johnny cage smut prac as a reward for something idk. first time i ever done this and i'm working on an arthur morgan one but idk if i'll post that. lemme know if someone does. also before anyone gets mad at any of the language being used to refer to genitals or sum, i am transgender. say whatever you want actually i'm going to bed. running a criminal empire is hard.

Kaboom ((18+))

Johnny Cage x trans male reader

1047 words

warnings : smut (minors dni) daddy kink. Breeding kink (pregnancy maybe) Probably swearing and other non-serious kinks. be warned. Make 0 sense cause i barely proofread it. Language used to refer to readers genitals include -> clit, pussy etc. so it's pre-bottom surgery. Don't read if uncomfortable.

Johnny gently rubs your clit for a little while, moving to bite your bottom lip and whispering the sweetest and dirtiest words you’ve ever heard him utter.

“It’s okay to be a little noisy, alright? It’s okay… you’re okay with daddy. You know that, right? Yeah, I know you do.” Johnny smiles and repositions himself so that he’s lying on top of your back.

He then probes around your pussy for some time before sliding a single, thick finger in. Your warm, velvety cunt wraps around it, and he can’t help but chuckle. You took him so damn well. No wonder he was obsessed with you.

“You’re such a good boy. A greedy boy too! Look at how much your tight pussy wants me, honey. So good… so good… Such a nice boy… taking that finger so well.” Johnny praises before adding another finger. It feels so much better, and you let out a loud whine so that he knows that you’re satisfied with his performance so far.

Johnny doesn’t stop there though, adding yet another finger into your sopping wet hole.

“Aaaaannnddd… that makes three… what an amazing little boy you are. So good, so amazing. You think you’re almost ready for daddy or do you need some more time, pretty boy? Completely up to you… I’ll take it as slow as you want, baby.” He coos and kissing the back of your neck, moving all three fingers inside of you and holding you as you move around.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire… but in the best possible way. It was hot and steamy and passionate, but it was Johnny. How could you ever resist Johnny Cage? Your thoughts were filled with the man, your daddy. Only your daddy. And the knot you feel deep inside you begins to tighten, just over Johnnys fingers.

You are taken completely over the edge though as he pulls his meaty fingers out and then pushes them back in at what you swore was inhuman speed. The knot snaps for the first time in forever and you squirt all over the sheets, crying and whimpering like a puppy. Johnny just adored all of it.

“What an amazing little boy. Good… good job… you haven’t had an orgasm like that in a while, huh? You think you can have another one, just for daddy? I promise that I’ll go easy on my beautiful boy…” He whispers, his rough voice barely making it through to you while you’re in a post orgasmic haze. But you make out enough to barely nod your head.

“Sorry baby, daddy’s gonna need a lot more than a nod.” He holds your face in his hands and places you onto his lap where you can feel the large bulge in his pants that is now pressing right up against your soft pussy now. The only thing you’re thinking of now is what it would be like to have that behemoth massage your insides, the veins running along your walls and making you shake like a delicate leaf.

You whisper some words of consent, and he wraps one arm around you and starts to gently play with your nipples. “Good boy, I knew you wanted something like this… I knew it… Such an amazing little toy for daddy. So well behaved, so obedient. You wouldn’t dare disobey me, huh?” He chuckles and kisses your cheek from behind.

Then, he settles the other one of his arms on your stomach, his hand deviously moving to touch your fleshy nub as he skilfully slips his pants and underwear off while you’re still in his lap. The tip of his cock is pressing against your silky flesh now, begging to slide inside of you.

“Let daddy hear how much you want his cock, baby.” He whispers and listens to the following sounds you make. Moans, whines, groans, and whimpers. He eats it all up with pleasure before the tip slowly enters you, dragging against your walls and making you even louder. Before it hits your g-spot though, he pulls out.

This warrants disappointment from you until he rams back inside and begins to fuck you in a steady yet agonising pace. Not fast enough to make you cum, not slow enough to have no affect on you. His mouth nips your earlobe, and he whispers, “C’mon, good boy… I know you want me to make you cum… I know you do, little one. Daddy’s got you… he just needs a little something from you first, alright? He needs you to fucking beg for it. Beg for my fucking cock, pretty boy.”

Broken moans and whines enter his ears from your open mouth. Johnny listens to you beg for him for what feels like an eternity before he gradually speeds up the pace he’s been fucking you. It’s almost as if he’s punishing you which only makes you cry.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy it.

“Am I making you dumb on my dick, honey? Really? I bet you like being fucked silly on my cock. You love it. I know you do. Daddy knows- daddy knows fucking everything about you. That’s why he’s so good at fucking you stupid- fucking- fuck… your pussy is so soft… so tight. Best pussy I’ve ever fucking felt! So soft… B- fucking bounce on it! Bounce on my fucking cock now, baby… come on, come on, come on!” Johnny fucks you hard and fast now, spearing you on his dick.

He's so close to coming himself now. He turns your face around to your side so that he can get a little look at your features, staring at how your eyes are rolled back and your mouth is open in pure dirty delight. Fuck, you were so beautiful…

Johnny then feels your walls clench around him, causing him to shout something before he spurts cum inside of you, making sure it lands inside your womb.

“Such a good boy… pretty boy… shhh… yeah… holy fucking shit… you’re- you’re gonna be an amazing father to our kids, hun.” He chuckles, slightly out of breath as he lowers you onto the bed, still intertwined with him through his cock.

It doesn’t look like he’s going to pull out anytime soon.

now that this mess is over, ty. stay safe when crossing roads. look both ways. don't get hit like i did. xoxo bye boo boo see you next year <3

[enddaysengine]

Alberta's Transphobic Government

I try really really hard to keep this blog about RPGs and writing. I really do. But when someone comes for my students, fists gets thrown.

We've seen the rise of transphobic legislation in various US states, as well as in Saskatchwan and New Brunswick. Now Alberta has joined the party. Despite the premier pointing out that there are trans youth in her extended family (I don't know how close the relation is, but somewhere in her close family) and swearing to not marginalize trans youth in the last election.

And ohhhh boy oh boy, my home province is once again aiming to hit the bottom of the barrel

Here's the tl;dr (quoted from the article):

Top and bottom surgeries will be banned for minors aged 17 and under. Doctors say bottom surgeries aren't performed on youth and top surgeries are rare.

Puberty blockers and hormone therapies for gender affirmation will not be permitted for children aged 15 and under.

Youths aged 16 and 17 will be permitted to start hormone therapies for gender affirmation "as long as they are deemed mature enough" and have parental, physician and psychologist approval.

Parental notification and consent will be required for a school to alter the name or pronouns of any child under age 15. Students who are 16 or 17 won't need permission but schools will need to let their parents know first.

Parents will have to "opt-in" their children every time a teacher plans to teach about gender identity, sexual orientation or sexuality. Alberta law currently requires parental notification and gives them the option to opt students out.

All third-party teaching materials on gender identity, sexual orientation or sexuality will need to be approved in advance by the education ministry.

Transgender women will be banned from competing in women's sports leagues. Smith said the government will work with leagues to set up coed or gender-neutral divisions for sports.

This goes well beyond what SK and NB have passed. It violates the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, but Smith doesn't care and will likely use the Notwithstanding Clause to bypass it. Parents, medical professionals, and educators have all reacted with justified outrage. It is clear to those of us who care about youth that these policies will kill.

There is flattly no way in hell I will be deadnaming my students. For a government that says they want to remove red tape and bureaucracy, making parents opt-in to every single lesson involving anything other than heteronormativity sure seems like trying to use red tap to make teaching anything other than their ideology impossible.

What can you do to help?

If you are in Alberta, raise holy hell. Call your MLA, show up at the protests, add your voice to the chorus screaming that we don't want this.

If you are in Canada, there are also demonstrations in support of trans youth going on across the country. Let your MP know as well.

If you aren't from Canada, solidarity and visibility help! We've all seen how this shit has gone down in Florida and elsewhere. We need to stand together to stop this tide.

If you have business ties to Alberta and are able to divist them, please let the Alberta government know you are planning to do so if these proposals become law

Donate to 2SLGBTQ+ organizations in Alberta.

This is not the content I want to go viral from me... but if I have to choose one, make it this one. Please help us proect our kids.

[thus-spoke-lo]

Pain Management // Trafalgar Law x afab!reader // NSFW/18+

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Series Masterlist // AO3 Link // Playlist

Chapter 10: Recovery (Epilogue)

Chapter Summary: The sun sets on the horizon, and you sit alone on the deck, absorbing the hues of the evening sky. Every decision comes with regrets, with thoughts that wander to what-ifs and what-could-have-beens, and as you bask in the orange glow of the setting sun, you ruminate on what was and what will be.

Chapter CW: afab!reader, no pronouns used; gendered pet names [ex. "good girl"]; angst; mention of surgical procedure performed on reader

WC: 2k

You sat alone on the deck and leaned back onto the heels of your palms, face tilted towards the sky, letting the dusky pinks and blues of the setting sun warp around you like a blanket as the breeze drifted across your skin. You missed this—you missed the immaculate oil paintings of evening, swaths of vibrant tangerines and fuchsias that slowly faded into watercolor lavenders and indigos under the pale light of the rising moon. You’d been spoiled by them so accustomed to them that you almost didn’t think about it until a feeling of loss, of emptiness, would wash over you some nights as you stared out the portholes into the murky abyss. Your hand settled on your lap, and you flinched when you noticed it again—there was no scar, no lasting pain, but there still persisted a dull ache from where Law had so carefully taken you apart and put you back together just a few days ago—something he was accustomed to doing already, in his way.

On that morning, hours before you were to be anesthetized (a measure Law insisted upon so you weren’t subjected to the horror of him passively taking apart your insides), he grabbed ahold of your hips and pulled you back into bed when you tried to leave; it was only for a shower, you assured him while you stroked the tops of his palms with your fingertips, only to ready yourself for what the day held for you.

“Don’t go yet,” he whined into your neck, his tickling your skin while he held you from behind, pulling you tightly to him. “Stay a little longer, okay?”

“Just for a minute,” you smiled softly, knowing a minute would turn into an hour, and drowsy embraces would turn into being pinned underneath him while he lazily thrust inside you, whispering praise against your kiss-bitten lips. You could never refuse him—not like this, not when his eyes were still barely open, his low voice husky with sleep, lean body heated like a furnace as he pressed against you, limbs wrapping around your body like vines.

After a while, his grip loosened and he sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. The question came suddenly, cutting through the quiet of his room, his voice hushed and uncertain: “You won’t leave, will you?”

“What do you mean?” You waited a moment before you moved to sit next to him, leaning your head on his arm.

“After. After the surgery.”

“Of course not. Why would I leave?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced down, gaze focused on anything but you. “Because you got what you wanted.”

“What I want is you,” you reassured him, reaching a hand up to stroke his hair, your fingers gently carding through soft, black strands. Maybe it was what you’d wanted all along, a need held somewhere deep inside you in a murky place you dared not go. Relief, though temporary, could be found in the bottom of a bottle of pills, but not this—this was something you’d longed for as soon as desire and yearning had taken root inside you from that first time you’d met him.

It was then, as you sat together in the near-dark of his quarters, that he told you he loved you—he placed a hand on your cheek, a subtle tremor in his fingers, and turned you towards him. Law held you there while he studied your face as he often did, steely eyes examining every feature despite the dim light, taking notes on you like a case study, committing the truths of your face to memory like something he’d be quizzed on later. He kissed you softly, like he’d break you if he pressed his lips to yours any harder. He inhaled sharply as he pulled away, uttering a hushed “I love you” while his lips still brushed yours, like he wanted to breathe it into you. It fell from your lips effortlessly when you said it back—like something that had always been twirling on your tongue, just waiting for the right moment to be set free.

As the sun continued to dip below the horizon, you sat on the deck and closed your eyes, filled your lungs with cool air, let the slight spray of the salt settle on your skin as the submarine bobbed up and down with the evening tide. Your thoughts drifted with the glittering waves, pushed and pulled along as you pictured them—your crew, your friends—in your mind’s eye. If only you could have hugged them one last time, wrapped your arms around them like you meant it, like you’d never, ever let them go. You had, before you left, but that was different—those were embraces of see you later, and I’ll be back soon, of unsaid reassurances that without fail, you’d return to drink tea together, and eat family meals, and bicker over who got the bath next or who’d left laundry in the hallway again, only for it to all fade away as you sipped sake and sang and danced together on the deck until the stars sat high in the darkened sky, twinkling with joy at your revelry.

Instead, you fought back sobs over a telephone wire when you heard their voices through crackles and hisses and pops. It was them—it was really them, and their voices sounded the same as when you’d left, and when the connection was good, it felt like they were right beside you, close enough to touch, close enough to hold so tightly and never let go. They were told only partial truths, rehearsed explanations of your decisions that you and Law had practiced together—mostly you, as you choked your way through it time and time again, until he placed a hand on either cheek and softly asked if you’d prefer that he handle it all, if you wanted him to shoulder the burden of telling your family that you were never coming home.

But you did it, refusing to let this news come from anyone except for you. You held Law’s hand in yours, and squeezed until your muscles shook, and you smiled and told the Strawhats that you missed them, always would, and you hoped you’d meet again someday, but sometimes things change, trajectories change, and you had new goals, new dreams that you needed to chase. And afterwards, you left the communications room, wandered the halls feeling at once incomplete and utterly fulfilled, and came to the deck in hopes that the evening sunset would soothe the raw feeling that burned inside as the disappointment in their voices resonated in your head.

“Not feeling like coming to dinner?”

The unmistakable rumble of Law’s voice vibrated deep in your bones and stirred you from your meandering thoughts. You opened your eyes and turned to see him sitting cross-legged beside you, one hand on the surface of the deck, precariously close to yours.

“I will,” you said, eyes flitting over him before your gaze returned to the horizon. “Just felt like staying here for a little while is all.”

He was quiet for a moment as you watched the skies together, and his hand crept over until it was sitting on yours, warm and comforting. It all felt so easy now—like it had always been meant to be this way, his hand always meant to cling to yours, lips always meant to meet in the dark of a hall as you passed, bodies always meant to tangle in the sheets, sweat-slicked with heaving chests, nerves on fire from satisfying that voracious hunger that drove you towards each other again and again.

“I’m sorry,” Law said after a while, just above a whisper, withdrawing his hand and placing it in his lap.

“For what?” you asked.

There could have been a million sorries for a million reasons: one for every time he sullied you on the exam table, one for every night he let you into his office to pull you close and wring pleasure out of you, one for every time he made you fall in love with him a little more with sideways glances in clandestine meetings. He could have spent a lifetime wading through sorries for knowing your ruse practically from the start and never saying a damn thing, for letting his heart get in the way of his ethics, for letting you consume him as much as he did you. But it didn’t matter anymore—you’d both made your choices.

“I don’t know.” The sigh that preceded his declaration said that he did know, and that you did too.

You leaned over and rested your chin on his shoulder. “Then don’t be.”

“Do you have any regrets?” He leaned his head against yours, stretched his long legs out to dangle them through the bars of the railing. He sounded almost hesitant to ask, afraid of what your answer may be.

“I don’t think so.” You breathed deep, noticed the sweet smell of spice and musk—the cologne you learned he wore only for you. “I’m just lucky I came here when I did.”

“How so?” he asked, the sound of a smirk registering to your ears.

“Because you fixed me—I needed you, and you fixed me,” you murmured, knowing full well that you were more broken than you’d ever been before, but now you had him to patch you up, to tape together your splintered pieces even when he was the one that shattered you in the first place.

“You know I like it when you say you need me, sweetheart,” Law smirked as he began to cover your neck in kisses, scraping his teeth against your skin in that way he knew you liked, trying to distract you from your melancholy in the best way he knew how.

A sigh filtered into the air above you as your eyes closed, and your skin prickled with every touch. “I know you do.”

“So say it again, then.” Law’s hand settled on your thigh, squeezing it gently. “Say it for me.”

“I need you,” you moaned softly.

“Good girl,” he grinned as he kissed you again, his tongue quickly parting your lips, a low hum of pleasure rumbling inside him. It was impossible for him to chase away every bit of sadness that coursed through you, silently mourning the life that was and the life that could have been, but he could at least bring you respite, bring you the temporary relief he was so adept at giving you, until your mind was hazy with lust and you could forget, even if for a moment, your ache for what you left behind.

The welcome disruption from your ruminations was halted as an abrupt snickering and the sound of whispers came from behind you.

“Guys, come on,” Law grunted as he gruffly broke your kiss. “Act like adults.”

You heard Penguin and Shachi laughing to each other as their voices faded, accompanied by loud footfalls on metal stairs, and Law sighed and stood, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“I should go inside,” Law grumbled as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo, the one he would never tell you that he borrowed now and again, just to smell like you. “You sure you don’t want to come down for dinner?”

“I will, just give me a little bit longer, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Hey.” You reached up and grabbed his wrist as he tried to walk away, pulling him back to you, always pulling him back to you. “I love you.”

He closed his eyes and smiled in that way that was only meant for you, a secret you'd keep in your heart. “I love you too.”

You turned your head and listened, waited until you heard his footsteps vanishing down the stairs, back into the submarine, before you let yourself flop backwards onto the deck, folding your hands behind your head, staring into the indigo sky. The patch of seedlings that took root, that pushed forth from the soil with every lingering thought of him had not needed sun to thrive—it needed only the darkness of deep waters to finally take root and grow. And now you wandered through that blossoming field of wildflowers, without pain, if only to find him there and take his hand—to walk together amongst the blooms of a damaged and desperate love.

[xixovart]

My name is Saadiya Masoud. My family and I have endured the horrors of war. Our home in Jabalia, northern Gaza, was bombed, and my husband was severely injured in the chest and legs. He urgently needs to travel abroad for treatment. His health is in a critical state, and he is also deeply affected psychologically, as he witnesses the hardship his family is going through—our struggle to secure daily food and the necessary medicine to ease his pain—feeling helpless in the face of it all.

I have three children: five-year-old twins, Omar and Zein, and my three-year-old daughter, Zeina. At the start of the aggression on Gaza, when our house was hit by a missile, my son Omar was injured in his spine after a pillar collapsed on him. We were barely rescued from the rubble. We were then forced to flee to the south. I, along with my three children, walked on foot, not knowing anything about my husband, as his injuries were severe, and we had no idea which hospital he was taken to. I spent almost a month without any information about my husband, suffering with my children as we slept on the streets, barely managing to find food once a day. After a month of hardship, I heard that some of the injured had been transferred from the north to the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital. I was fortunate that day to be reunited with my husband. He was exhausted and still had shrapnel in his chest, but unfortunately, no hospital in Gaza could perform the necessary surgery due to a lack of equipment. We moved to live together in a tent shared with three other families at an UNRWA school in Deir al-Balah.

I am pleading with everyone to help us in any way possible. We need pain relief medication for my husband and my son Omar, as well as other medicines to treat skin diseases and rashes that have spread across our bodies due to the lack of cleaning supplies like soap and shampoo. We also need healthy food for our children, who are surviving on unhealthy canned food every day.

Even a few cents could make a huge difference in our lives right now. Your small contribution can help us secure the basic necessities we desperately need. Please, from the bottom of my heart, I ask you to share our story and offer whatever support you can. Every little bit counts, and it will bring us one step closer to relief. Thank you so much for your kindness and generosity.🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸😭😭

https://gofund.me/42ba47b3

you hear the stories of palestinians and their suffering. what will you do? will you claim that a five year old boy doesn’t deserve to be treated and rescued, because of the actions of men that died long before he was born? that a father of three beautiful children deserves to be left helpless and wounded because you can’t bear the thought of hamas? will you let them die, or will you step up and do something about this genocide? just posting about these people can help. anything helps.

[drtanner]

God. I'm pissed off again and you're all going to hear about it.

Some of you may know that I'm finally in a position to get my top surgery done on the NHS. I've been on their waitlist for a full year and it's finally my turn! But god, they're being asses about my BMI.

Some context: If you're trans, you can get top and bottom surgery on the NHS, but they have some really strict rules about BMI. Most top surgeons and all surgeons who perform bottom surgery require your BMI to be below 30. A few top surgeons will take you if your BMI is below 40, but you'll have to travel to see them and appointments are limited and hard to get. Over 40 BMI and you've got no options. The stated reason for this is that it's supposedly harder to get good results if they have to excise too much fat during the surgery. I'll let you decide how plausible that really is.

My BMI is a little over 40, by about 3.5kg, so not a huge amount. My fat percentage is a bit under 34, so it's not that I'm terribly fat, I just have a lot of muscle and very heavy bones! The surgeon himself - as well as every other medical professional who sees me - was surprised at how heavy I am given my size when he examined me last year and took Before pictures. My upper body is actually very lean and they know this because they've seen me! However, they're still being shits about my BMI, because BMI doesn't discriminate between muscle and fat, or how broad someone is, or how heavy their bones are or anything else, and apparently that's the only metric they go by. I've always had difficulty losing weight, probably because there really isn't that much to lose, so being told that I've now got to find a way to lose at least 3.5kg by October or have my surgery date pushed back isn't ideal and I'm getting really strung out about it. I've spent most of the last 15 years trying to get my BMI down without losing the muscle I worked so hard to build up or cut my leg off with fuck all success. I've been stable at my current weight for most of the last decade but now I have to figure out how to drop down to 121.5kg within three months.

The amount of hoops one has to jump through to get access to any kind of trans healthcare is absolutely ridiculous, a direct result of all the stupid handwringing about "permanent, irreversible surgeries!!!" and so on, as if I can't make choices about my own body.

Only, all of this bullshit about my weight and my BMI reminded me of something else: About ten years ago, when I was also getting shit about my weight (again, despite not being terribly fat, just heavy!), I got referred to a weight clinic. After seeing dieticians and being put on a drastically restricted calorie intake to no avail, I got shuffled off to the weight clinic, where they did the same blood tests that my GP had done before she referred me, saw that they came back normal again, unsurprisingly, and then promptly offered me bariatric surgery.

This was presented as the only treatment they were able to give to help me with my weight loss, to cut out part of my stomach and staple it back together to make it much, much smaller, because they didn't believe me when I told them I was controlling my diet. Like, oh yes, you say you aren't overeating all the time, but just to make sure you can't eat too much, we're going to make your stomach tiny so that you physically cannot fit food into it anymore. I've never heard anything good about bariatric surgery from anyone who had it. Every story is a horror story, from people who can't eat without stomach pain anymore, or keep down anything heavier than soup anymore, or who suffered through all of this only for what little weight they lost to come back in a few years' time. That was the only help they were willing to offer me.

I got up and left, and didn't go back again after that.

So, contrast these two situations. On one hand, I'm grappling with the NHS over my top surgery for entirely stupid reasons because it's ludicrously difficult to access any kind of trans healthcare, but especially surgeries, because they're "permanent and irreversible!!!" and "you might regret it!!!!" or whatever. Meanwhile, they couldn't throw bariatric surgery at me hard enough, just because my BMI was high. Is cutting out a huge piece of my stomach to make it smaller not "permanent or irreversible"? Might I not regret that? Especially when there's no guarantee that it would achieve the desired result at all? I know what I'm likely to get from the top surgery, but somehow that's the one nobody wants me to have.

Anyway, sorry about the long post. It's a fucking dogshit situation and I'm fucking sick of it.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I have a couple of question-headcanons-idea thingies about Yves appearance if u don’t mind. So would Yves wear more gold or silver jewelry? Like I can’t decide whether he would have cool undertones or warm undertones. Cool undertones because of his sometimes very icy nature, steely stare and almost vampiric aspects of his nature. But also could be warm because of the motherly warmth and comfort he gives off, he reminds me of a hearth.

Also we gotta talk about how tall this man probably is like legit. Like you always describe him as tall and slender but it didn’t hit me until today that this man is probably a beanstalk. So like he was a model at one point which lets me know that he’s at the very least 6-6’3 naturally, now imagine the heels along with it, I dunno I personally think with heels he may be taller than Monty which adds to the intimidation factor.

Omg and his HAIRRR!! I always wondered what his natural hair texture is like whenever he doesn’t do blowouts. Like does he have naturally straight, wavy or even curly hair, I personally think he would have straight or slightly wavy naturally but I dunno, what r ur thoughts (if you have any, it’s okay to keep these things vague if u want)

(One day I will draw him Omg as u can see I have completely hyper fixated on him if I was reader I would be in his walls fr 😔)

Ou shid i am the opposite of minding, PLEASE DO SEND MOARR it also feeds my brain rot

anyways,

Yves only wears jewelry if it completes his look or it can aid him in manipulating people somehow.

When it comes to his outfits, he would wear silver if his clothes that day have cool undertones, and gold if it's warm and deep-toned. Yves could be your thermometer, if he knew that you're most likely to overheat that day, he would stick to cool neutrals. If it's chilly, he would don warm colors. Likewise with his choices in jewelry. Numerous other factors will determine his fashion, but the strongest influence is the weather and how he could use it to his advantage, making him much more appealing to you.

Yves's fingers are generally free of rings unless you and he were married. Then the wedding band will only leave his finger during certain situations such as performing surgery on you or cooking your meals. When he was younger, one of his favorite rings to wear was the brass knuckle. It would be a determining factor whether he beats his opponent into a bloody pulp, or he becomes one. As he grew older, he swapped that out with a quieter, secret compartment ring. A dash of whatever poison he decided to fill up that day does wonders without the mess and effort of throwing repeated punches. Perhaps you're particularly rowdy that day and wouldn't listen to reason, a little sedative would do the trick.

He does wear earrings though, mostly Diamond studded earrings because large or hanging ones would be more likely to snag on his hair and something else. He learned the existence of earlobe reattachment surgery through the hard way when he forgot to remove his hoops before a fight. But it doesn't mean he would never rock bolder styles, just rarely. During periods when he would wear his hair up, you would most likely see him wear pendant earrings that elongate the appearance of his elegant neck. Yves's extensive collection of jewelry he collected over the decade means you never see him wear the same set twice.

His height was kept vague because it would give me a lot of freedom to play with how he holds you. But just remember that he could carry you with one arm under your rear, on his hip, like a child. And to get to your eye level, he has to kneel. The height of his heels definitely depends on his goal and your personality, perhaps you're intimidated by his height. So he wears kitten pumps around you. However, to everyone else? Stilettos with red bottoms all the way.

Yves can wear flats or shoes, but why should he have to? He has worn heels for so long that it's actually much more comfortable to move in those torture devices. If you handed him a 20-inch lobster heel, Yves would walk or even run around in it as if he were wearing a pair of comfortable sneakers. His footwear must have at least a minimum of 2 inches on its heels.

If you pay close attention when he's barefoot, he's walking on his toes; he would be completely silent when moving around. But he's barely seen without some sort of footwear, even his home slippers have some height to it. This is mostly to alert you of his presence, so you won't have a heart attack whenever he greets you with a kiss on the back of your head.

His hair is implied to be naturally straight; he needed to sleep in silk curlers to look effortlessly gorgeous the next day. For the longest time, he hated his hair for not maintaining shape whenever he tried heat curling it. He wore extensions and wigs, and Yves tried shaving it all off to 'reset' his hair- that was one of the rougher patches in life he went through, he has experienced it all. Yves spent a good fortune on hairspray back then, he probably contributed greatly to the puncturing of the ozone layer. He wanted volume, he wanted structure, but he either didn't have the knowledge or the means to achieve that. Eventually, though, he learned through trial and error, through endless magazines and even research projects on how to care for his hair to look like his ideal. It's much thicker, healthier, and shinier than that of his past.

You wouldn't need to be in his walls, it's dusty there and you would get electrocuted with all the wiring in it. Yves wants you to come out so you would be in his lap, while he types away on his laptop. It's much more comfortable there, he wouldn't mind staying in the same position for hours and hours on end.

Just as long as you're fed, cleaned, using the toilet enough, and sleeping well. Yves will let you hyper-fixate on him as much as he hyperfixates on you.

But he knew that you wouldn't be able to even come close to his level of obsession towards you. And that's fine with him.