#sounds better to leave ambigious

[phasing-through-walls]

"Just one more, mein Hase, ja?"

(ambigious pronouns [you/yours]; afab anatomy) (dub-con???) He mumbled where he kneeled, words muffled under the sound of the running shower and his face buried in your pussy, chin and stubble covered in a glistening layer of your juices. He'd been at this for hours now and your hips already ached from the position, having to keep your legs spread to accomodate for his huge figure. Yet you knew better than to take his word for it. He had said the same thing an hour ago, even moved you to the shower to help you clean up and yet here you were, a thigh resting on Königs' shoulder while he ravaged you like a starved animal, seemingly unable to get his hands off you. Your legs felt like jelly, the constant stimulus making it hard to stay upright. Your leg had began to shake, threatening to give out underneath you. You were sure he'd at least allow you to sit and slowly tried to pull away, to lower your leg, but his free hand only snaked around your trembling thigh to keep you in place. "No, no. You cannot run. Not from König", he hummed and you could practically hear the wolfish grin in his words while he manhandled you to get an even better angle, your other leg barely touching the ground. "Just... rest now. Let me do all the work, darling. Just relax", he coaxed softly, dipping his tongue into your hole before licking a long stripe up to your abused clit and giving it a gentle suckle, basking in your cries of pleasure. His calloused hands had a vice grip on your thighs, holding you spread open so you wouldn't dare deprive him of his meal. The sight of his massive palms against your legs made you clench around nothing; only resulting in another pleased groan from the man below. “Fuck. Look at you... So sweet. One more, yea? Just for me, mein Liebling", he groaned between licks, his hair dripping wet from the continuous downpour of water on the both of them; eyes hazy like he was enjoying nectar of the gods. Just when you were about to shake your head, he already pulled you closer again, . "Mmm... you can do it. You won’t even feel it. I promise. Just a little one? A small little orgasm just for me, yes?”, he mumbled to himself, his grip tightening, fingers slightly digging into the plush of your thighs. You could feel his nose nudge against your clit again and again; obscene sounds coming from below; leaving you no choice but to grab onto his hair and dissolve into a puddle of whimpers and whines.

[syllikins]

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒

❀ genre: fluff

❀ pairing: nanami x reader

❀ contains: mutual pining, realizations are made, more yucky vulnerable feelings, poorly proofread, zombie apocalypse, they're having sex during this whole drabble, potential swearing, kento and reader are literally the only people around for miles

❀ word count: 601

❀ authors note: NANAMI IS SO BBYGIRLL. This is has literally been marinating for MONTHS. It was initially going to be smut but i love focusing on the feels and well i don't have in me to write fullfledged smut yet. BUT I LEFT THE LAST LINE AMBIGIOUS CUZ IT REALLY CAN INTERPRETED ANYWAY

there is a harsh press of fingers on your hips as you bounce up and down in your naked form.

a symphony of sighs and quiet moans, as you reach another climax for maybe the second time tonight.

he's always been good at this. making you feel so good. even while the world outside is in ruins.

about a year and a half ago, you and your co worker were stuck overtime when you both heard chaos ensue.

you were still groggy in the wee hours of the night, but nanami was on higher alert, dragging you outside the office and into the first vehicle he could find.

for the next year, you and him had encountered a group of survivors who became your closest friends until this dystopian reality took them away.

as for you and nanami, the two of you were never close on a personal level. You often saw him around the office looking as tired and overworked as you did, yet having ridiculously better posture.

overtime was the time the two of you said more than just "good morning", small laughs here and there all while neither of you even looked up from the work to be completed in front of you. Yet there was still that overtime tension that you often heard about.

that rumble in his tired voice as he grimaced about something to be completed. you can't say it didn't get you a little hot. but you thought it was your practically non-existent sex life due to years of a toxic work environment.

and now you're here. The lewd slapping of skin and high pitched whines as he brings a thumb to circle your clit.

amongst your haze, you get a good look at his face. just beautiful.

sweat beading on his forehead, his blonde hair clingy to his forehead as both your bodies move in sync. then he catches you staring, with his green eyes.

fuck. he's like heaven on earth.

through blown pupils of lust and lowered eyelids, both your erotic gazes meet as you feel another impending orgasm.

you can't help but think about how much you need him. and not in the way that you already have him; riding him, tangled in sheets, veins of his dick dragging across your gummy walls. no. you need him in your life.

he's all you have left.

so you kiss him like you mean it, hardly ever separating for air.

remember: every laugh the two of you have shared, every death the two of you have overcome.

nothing about this current reality has been a constant except for him. he was your stability.

oh how you tremble to hold him in your hands. the words "i love you" weighing your tongue.

eating dinner with him was your solace. waking up in the night to see his sleeping form in the next bed over was your peace.

he suddenly holds you down, pressing your hips, grounding you, to feel every inch of him deep inside you as you both stop moving.

the sole sound of your panting makes you overwhelmingly self conscious as he looks into your eyes.

you moan softly at the sensation of him pulsating inside you. while he links your hands together. the moonlight comes down either of you as his grip tightens on your hands as he utters:

"never leave me."

you subconsciously clench around him as if your pussy decides to respond before you do.

your free hand reaches up to hold his face.

"it's just us anyways" you breathe out

"so hold me. every last part of me."

© syllikins 2024

[powerpolyculeshowdown]

(Well, this got longer that i anticipated, sorry about the wall of text, anxiety made me do it)

Hey, the person that both recommended in asks and submitted Yuurivoice characters, i just saw a tiktok that kinda upset me and it made me kinda paranoid about the possible consequences of my actions so i just wanted to say:

If any of you following this blog ever want to get into the yuurivoice stuff, specifically bittersweet, please, i'm begging you, be respectful of the fact that he has his reasons to probably never make it 100% explicitly canon in the main storyline, don't be a dick/annoying about it and maybe also don't ask about it's canonicity in stream chat, it's been asked and he has answered many times before just watch the old youtube streams.

(And for the love of god, don't be all passive aggressive about him apperantly "profiting" of the idea of the poly by making an non-canon 18+ audio of the three of them for his patreon [which the patreon and by extension the exlusive content on there is basically his main income afaik and he's only made one or two of the poly out of all the monthly content that makes him money] but still "refusing" to make them canon, like that tiktok person did.

Making it sound all like intentionally manipulative, i guess? Like some sort of eqivalent to like a big studio queerbaiting or something?! What the fuck is wrong with some people?! Especially on that godforsaken app?!)

I usually stay away from both most fandoms (especially asmr/audio roleplay type youtuber fandoms) and tiktok (and especially said fandoms on tiktok) but curiosity got the better of me and i checked the yuurivoice tiktok tag and since i don't have a tiktok account i counldn't check the comments on that video to see how other people responded and i've seen some other people complaining about it not being fully canon on tiktok as well but again since i don't usually interact with the fandom it's hard for me to tell if the bad attitude about the ambiguity is a majority or minority kind of thing in the fandom as a whole.

And while i generally trust that most people following you're lovely blog are gonna be respectful, i couldn't help but be anxious about possibly adding even one other person being so negative about this to the fandom through my recommendation.

And like if you read my rambling on my submission, i personally can't relate to how some people seem so hung up on this needing to be so black and white anyway.

It is canon (and explicitly so) that these three people love each other (in whatever way), are family, are gonna stay together and wanna go home together. If i remember correctly he has said before that it seems like some people like to ignore the found family aspect of the story and how being loved unconditionally now is a huge thing for the one of the three that isn't officially dating the other two (the other two being a couple since the start of the story) because of his backstory.

Idk, since he has metioned that this is essentially a piece of emotionally personal vent art in a way, it just seems kinda disrespectful to me how some people go about this, yk?

And personally i find his reasoning in regards to it needing to be an inherently kinda ambigious situation because of the self-insert aspect understandable.

At one point to being asked about if they're canon he said something along the lines of:

"The best answer to that question is actually "You tell me. Are they? ""

(Again sorry for the wall of text, and the negativity, i guess, i just needed to get this off my chest/make sure.)

some people just love being hateful, sorry they're going through that rn...

to anyone that mightve picked up the recommendatio from past asks, please be respectful to the creator i havent listened to yuurivoice myself, but i dont think theres anything wrong w keeping smth ambiguous as long as ur open about that, which from your asks he seems to have been for a while now?? its not queerbaiting if you literally say "ill leave it up to interpretation" especially considering the self insert element of the listener being included, and the creator trying to be respectful

theres also smth to be said here about the expectation of every polyam relationship being a triangle idk. i also dont see the relevance of an 18+ audio w all 3, i dont see how that would be baiting at all. Sorry the creator is having to deal w bullshit for that.

[dxathstrxke-archives]

💭

“Stop fighting it.”

[qtipcottonbuds]

𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍 𝙎𝙄𝙈𝙊𝙉 𝙎𝘼𝙔𝙎 [PART TWO/FINALE]

onto the second installment >:O i feel this could’ve been a bit better aodbwhd >:(( but !! you can find the first part here

warnings ;; modernAU, mild language, themes of fear/stalking home invasion, potentially graphic descriptions of gore and body mutilation, and an ambigious ending etc

by qtipcottonbuds 2022. do not repost.

𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

You felt sick, with your skin beginning to break out into a sweat, a cold sort of clamminess. The sort that spider webs across the skin, rather than an immediate flush, paired with the heavy unease that settles in your stomach - bearable, but has you constantly shifting from side to side.

You thumb against the power button firmly, waiting for the ‘Power Off,’ icon to appear on the screen. Rationality was screaming to keep the phone line switched on but; whatever this was, whoever, this was, was blatantly using it to mess with your head, playing into your fears. Discarding the phone on the counter once more, you opt for your safest bet - to leave the house. 

The closest police station was at least a mile away. Fifteen to twenty minutes max; potentially less if you considered beelining it. Yet, it was enough time, enough time to relatively get a head start.

Surveying the living room in a brief, but appreciative glance, you can’t stop the small tinge of anger bubbling up. This was your home. It was somewhat barren, you’d made do with what you were able to afford at least, but it was yours. Although, in different circumstances, you’d have taken a stand to it, now wasn’t the time for backtracking - you need to leave.

Exhaling deeply, you brace yourself, promptly swiping your house keys from within a nearby drawer and a blunt kitchen knife, ahead of heading towards the front door, shimmying past one of low bookcases only to be cut short. 

It’s faint, but audible. 

The rasp of footsteps against the wooden floorboards. Roughly a metre or so away - close enough.

Pausing. Waiting. 

“Now, now. Check your locks!”

The sentence is cut with intervals of static. And a part of you wishes, hopes, that maybe you’d failed to turn off your phone correctly, instead carelessly missing and swiping across the ‘Restart,’ button.

Though, the sound hadn’t been emitted from the phone, and rather from behind you, the presence motionless. Yet, it was there. You could feel it was there. But, you can’t bring yourself to turn around (you don’t want to, you don’t, because if you can’t see it, then it can’t see you), preferably opting to comply with the instructions, almost launching yourself across the small hallway to the front door. 

Sharp-eyed and searching, you skim over the entryway, only to baulk back; the recognisable chiming of the chain dangling and tapping against the latch, with each rush of air from the outside.

He’d been here before. 

 And, in alarm, an unnerving realisation that, you didn't listen. 

They didn't say, ‘Simon Says’. 

“I thiiiiiiiiink, somebody forgot the rules, don’t you? Or, just simply wasn’t listening. What is it the French say? ‘Ecoute?’" 

"Ecoute," you mouth out, silently. And, it’s almost bordering on hysterical - in any other scenario, it would be comedic. 

“You gotta pay attention to the finer things, not the bigger picture.”  

A gloved hand swiftly disarms the knife within your own hand, jerking your wrist back forcefully, instead now hooking the curve of his own blade underneath your loose hoodie, the tip lightly grazing and splitting open your skin with precision.

“You see, people like you, you’re not anything special, a little clueless nobody. But you see; I can change that. I can add you to something much bigger, larger than what you are.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Little empty up there, aren’t you?” the playful tone shifts into something darker, dire.

He’s grazing the knife across the lower sector of your ribs, in between the smaller dents of thin muscle, “You could say it is your… petite mort. But, in the grander scheme of things, it isn’t really a ‘little death.’ You see, you’re gonna live on forever - immortalised. In the papers, the news reports, and above all else - in my memories. That's okay. M’gonna make sure to tell your story properly, yeah? That you put up a good fight. Defended yourself with a cute, little butter knife. Until the very end. How heroic. Brave, even. The shock factor of it all; the moral panic. I’m gonna give you a legacy, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t just a killing, was it? A part of you hopes it was, a simple matter of a wrong place and wrong time, instead of whatever this, this, was. It was a mockery.

To him, it was nothing but a conceited, ego boost. It was imminent, but even in your death, you wouldn’t have dignity. To the public, maybe. A story of potential justice from the authorities. But to him - a communal humiliation, a cold case - another token trophy.

Would anyone even notice?

The polished knife is thrusted into you instantaneously - a likely chance of the wound going unnoticeable if the partial gleam wasn’t reflected in the dim light, blatantly staring you in the face - neatly slotting in the in-between of your lower ribs on your right side. You can feel your chest cavity heaving, nerve endings unsure and uncertain of the foreign object, punching the air out of your lungs.

Strangely enough, aside from the minute buzzing in your ears, you find yourself glancing downwards blearily, in morbid, but perverse curiosity; the way the knife had enclosed itself perfectly between the two lower ribs, barely hinting at the fresh blood covering the midpoint of the weapon.

“Wanna thank me before you go, I think I deserve a little one, right? Pretty, pretty please?”

You attempt to warble out a response, to tell him to stop (take it out take it out take it out), but you can’t differentiate between the saliva and blood coating your mouth, tongue heavy and weightless all at once. The words won’t form correctly, amalgamating together.

And for a brief moment, he stills, one palm continuing to support your weight; his mask tilting downwards to glance at you, features indistinct.

“That didn’t sound like a ‘thank you,’ did it?”

Instead, the blade is prodded further, a gloved hand firmly encasing the handle as he rotates the weapon; it’s unbearable. 

The edges of the lodged knife dig into where your lower ribs would comfortable sit, pushing, stretching them out - and you’re gurgling, hands seeking to stall the incision as much as you could - but it’s feeble, pain receptors wavering in between relief and fear as the weapon is finally yanked out, fresh blood syrupy and balmy, varnishing your skin like a film.

Once again, a gloved hand trails across the laceration tentatively, poking and prodding at the weeping skin. It’s mildly comforting against the heated skin, ahead of digging his forefingers into the gash harshly, curving them, and scooping the blood across the tips and pulling back.

Raising his palm, he paints his thumb with the remainder of the blood, smearing it across your forehead in the shape of a modest ‘X’ shape.

“This pic right here,” you blink unhurriedly, eyes unfocused, “It’s my favourite! But, between me and you, we’re gonna make it even better.”

You partially acknowledge the sensation of something cool being thumbed against your forehead, in the same manner you’d glue something down.

“Hopefully, the pigs are gonna be up for a little game of, ‘Who Am I?’ Or is it, ‘Guess Who?” It’s hard to hone in on the mask, eyes woozily blinking in and out of focus, “Now, what do you think, toots? You gonna say cheese for me?”

You can barely pick up on the click of a shutter.

[intersex-support]

hi!. i was born a female but with functioning male parts and also an uterus (even though i don't have a vagina, i still feel cramps when it should be my period). my parents never took me to a doctor or anything because they were afraid i was going to be mutilated or something like that. i don't know what this condition is called and i hope you can give me some advice on what i can do (i'm a teenager and my parents still think i'm gonna be castrated if i go to a doctor). thank you <3

Hello! A reminder that we are not medical professionals, and to take my words with a grain of salt regarding this.

From what you’re describing alone, I would’ve said that what you have sounds similar to Persistent Müllerian duct syndrome. However, what’s stopping me from saying that confidently is the fact that you say you were assigned female at birth. Persistent Müllerian duct syndrome is typically only observed in people who were assigned male at birth. I am unsure if I could properly point to Ovotesticular Disorder as a possibility with the information you have given me, but it’s the only other possibility I could think of. I apologize for the lack of a straight answer regarding this part.

I recommend that you visit your doctor, and get a referral to an endocrinologist. As a teenager, you could not get a forceful cosmetic surgery without you and your parents’s consent, as these surgeries are typically only performed on infants. If it’s medically necessary, then the situation may be different, but you can only figure that out if you go to a doctor. They will have a better chance of figuring out your condition. -Mod Sie

(Any other input/something I should fix, mods?)

Hi! 

So first off I want to give you some information about possible intersex conditions you might have, in case you’re interested in doing research that way to find out more about yourself. 

 One possibility is that you have ovotestes-this is where you have both ovarian and testicular tissue, and can have a penis and a uterus, to my understanding. The exact causes of this are sort of unknown, but it can be caused by chromosomes. Here’s a link that goes more in depth about it, but warning that it uses the terms DSD and the h-slur. 

Another possibility could be  45,X/46,XY mosaicism/ mixed gonadal dysgenesis. This can caused ambigious or mixed genitala. Here’s a link to learn a little more (warning for cissexist language, it refers to genitalia as “boy” or “girl” genitalia.) 

Secondly, I want to validate that I hear and understand your concerns about getting mutilated or castrated by doctors. It’s true that unconsensual surgery at birth is a huge problem, and that intersex people face a lot of medical abuse. It’s really sad that this is a reality for a lot of us, and I think it’s very understandable if you didn’t want to go to the doctor. 

However, I do want to reassure you that as a teenager and with parental support, you have the right to refuse any treatment that you don’t want. You always have the right to refuse surgery even if people try to tell you that’s a good option. They cannot force you to have surgery, especially if your parents support you and don’t want you to have surgery. Obviously I can’t promise that you won’t face medical abuse, or that you’ll have doctors that listen and support you, but you will always have the right to refuse medical treatment that you don’t want, to advocate for youself, to ask questions about potential medications and treatment, and to stop seeing a doctor who doesn’t support you and ask for another doctor. 

I don’t want to diminish you or your parents concerns because I know how scary the idea of medical abuse is, but I think it would be pretty unlikely that a doctor could perform surgery on you without you knowing it as a teenager, and you always have the right to ask for details about any medical procedure you’re going through. There are good doctors out there who will listen to you and help you figure out more about your body. 

You always can have the option to go to an appointment with a doctor and tell them straightaway that you don’t want any surgery or hormones, and if they don’t respect that, you can leave the appointment right away and never go back to them. Especially if your parents support you, you can have them in the room to advocate for you. 

I”m here for you, anon, and if you need to ask any more questions or vent or anything, please feel free to reach out. I’m also in an intersex discord and if you send an ask off anon, I can get you a link. 

I wish you the best of luck. 

-Mod E

[ortegatrash]

All Things Must Come to an End

Chargestep. M!Ortega, ambigious Sidestep.

Warnings: Major character death, dying of old age.

"He's in ER, we moved him this morning."

"...Thank you," you tell the nurse. You already knew that, but it's not like she could have known. She's just trying to help you, she's seen enough of you over the years and she thinks it's terribly sweet that you visit every day you can.

She pauses for a second and then adds, more kindly, "He's been asking after you, you know. I'd go quickly if I were you."

Your throat feels too tight to speak, but you give a stiff nod at her before hurrying over.

The thing about being modded is that although the artificial parts can be cycled in and out and replaced when they wear down, the body is not quite as lucky. After a while even the healthiest and most cared for of bodies will break down.

Ricardo was never one to keep out of harm's way, flinging himself into its path. That's how he ended up getting modded after all - that's how they got their hands into him. How even now his spine bears trademarks and expensive sponsorships that have long since been withdrawn.

"Hey ol-" You cut yourself off and quickly stumble to cover it up with a cough and "...Hey." Neither of you quite wince at your slip up. Because it's true, isn't it?

He's getting old.

You see him wincing when it rains and his knees act up. You see the way his smile seems more distant, lost, when the painkillers aren't doing quite enough. All those years of abusing them for the pain have given him an inhumanly high tolerance to the point they barely do anything anymore. You're the one who has to hold his hand and pretend it's just because he's so needy for your affection and not because he has trouble standing up anymore.

His smiles have never quite disappeared, but the burning fire that used to be his spirit has dwindled down into a warm smolder. Embers of a memory of happier times. The fingers interlocking yours are gnarled and calloused, worn with the history of a life lived to the fullest.

Those fingers squeeze yours now.

"...You know you don't have to pretend for my sake," he tells you, quiet. "Call me old man if you want."

It's funny how life turns things around on you. "You're not that old..." you protest weakly, looking away from those knowing eyes. Still so warm. So affectionate, crows feet crinkling up at the corners and laughter lines painting themselves as his smiles gently at you.

A little huff. "Yes, yes I am," he tells you. "It's okay, you know."

You...you are not tearing up. You are not tearing up at this idiot who you've had so little time with, had so many years together robbed from you by life (and 'death'). You are not tearing up because even eternity would not be enough for you, you who selfishly want to keep him by your side forever.

His salt-and-pepper stubble is scratchy against your face as he kisses you. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to will the tears away. Hoping that if you shut your eyes everything will be like you were younger again. Wasn't it just yesterday you were both young and foolish and in love?

Now you are old and foolish and in love.

"You promised me you wouldn't leave again," you whisper, and you absolutely despise how fragile you sound. Despise how fragile he looks, how pale and paper-thin his skin is. Despise how much you love this stupid, brilliant man and how you don't know what to do with yourself without him.

"I did, didn't I?" A weak chuckle.

"You're such a liar," you tell him, trying and failing to keep your voice steady. You are not weeping. This is not fair.

"I am, aren't I?" The way he smiles so fondly at you is just cruel. "It seems like I'm just leaving broken promises all over the place."

No. No, don't tell me…

He shuts his eyes, breath unsteady. "Lo siento, mi amor. I don't think I have much more time…"

"No, Ricardo, don't be such an idiot!" You're probably crushing his hand right now but you can't help it. "Don't say such things when they're not true, we still have to see the grand canyon and visit the old hero museum again, and, and…" You're sniffing and crying too much to be making much sense.

He very gently tries to wriggle his gingers out of your iron clasp with only the barest wince. "I'm sure the others wouldn't mind taking a holiday…"

You capture his traitorous fingers again, suddenly afraid you might not have another chance. This time you make sure to loosen your grasp. "But I want you," you tell him, voice trembling. "I only want you, we can go when you'get better again and, and, and then we can go together like you promised…"

Ricardo's eyes are unfocused, looking at you and yet seemingly looking beyond you. "You know I can't, not anymore." At your silence he lets his eyes sharpen again and reaches up to cradle your face. "Hey. It's okay. You will be okay. I always knew this day would come, I just thought I'd die doing something stupid and dangerous instead of with someone I love after having live a long full life." His smile is a little pained, but accepting. Trying to be strong.

For you.

It takes monumental willpower to keep your mental shields strong, you can't break down, not now, not here. You don't need to re-enact a Heartbreak event.  "You...why do you have to be such an idiot!" you cry out, because you always knew he would break your heart. "Doing this to me…"

The kiss he gives you is all too short. Full of love and apologies and you kiss back with all the strength you can, trying to convey everything he means to you in one small little action.

It will never be enough.

It will never be enough when he passes away in your arms and breaks your heart for the final time.

[occupyvenus]

Who do you think LF is talking to when he said "the last best hope against the storm"? Because I think it's not just about the fight against the White Walkers, but also Euron first-and-last-storm Grayjoy, and Daenerys STORMborn.

Hi anon! You are right, isn’t it a funny coincidence that the White Walkers bring the storm, right when Euron, who is the first-and-last-storm teams up with Cersei, while Daenerys Stormborn starts her conquest of westeros? It’s almost as if the word “storm” might has some negative connotations and is associated with a more general atmosphere of doom. (If someone knows of any “storm”-imagery related to Cersei, please tell me.)

As for your question, I have some guesses but that is one of the things I have no clear idea on… You probably expected a short answer, but since “reading too much into things” is one of my most favourite things in the world: Pack some provisions for the road and let’s go, shall we? 

His exact words are: “Your father and brothers are gone, yet here you stand… last best hope against the coming storm.” 

While I agree that he could be simultaniously talking about all possible threats (political or wintery), I do think his little speech will be more specificly about one of them. Which one depends entirely on who he is talking to. 

My candidates for that are one of the starklings or - in a better world, that could have been - Dany. Yes, I have a headcanon that will never manifest itself in the real world (considering the leaks, spoilers, set photos), where that could happen. I will list all of them from least to most likely, while shouting my opinion into the void. 

Last place: Dany | he’s talking about the White Walkers

If there is one thing in the leaks I really believe, it’s that Littlefinger will stay in the north, cause some trouble for the starks and is killed by Arya/Sansa at the end of the season. This won’t happen, but I love this idea so much, I’m going to talk about it anyway.

Why Dany?

Even though I am just as happy as everyone else to see LF go, I also think it’s a bit of a waste to have one of the most capable political players in the series causing some family drama in Winterfell, without really being involved in the “grand political plot” of the season (alliences/rivalry between Team Dragon, Team Iron Throne and Team Stark). I like that Sansa’s creepy fake father will be the stark sisters/siblings common enemy and that bringing him down together will “unite them as starks” - as if that was necessary - and they’ll get some sweet, sweet revenge for their dad, but still.

I think that LF’s first instinct when hearing about Dany landing in Westeros would be to get to Dragonstone asap and scheme and manipulate her to further his own agenda. I just don’t think he would pass up that chance, even if he had to leave Sansa behind. 

Calling on her “grandiosity” by saying she’s the last best hope against some supernatural threat (DESTINY! PROPHECY!), while reminding her that she is the last targaryen would make sense.

I just always liked the idea of it and seeing tyrions desperation about LF worming his way into Danys good graces would be quite entertaining to watch. At least in the show (a bit in the books to) I would have loved Tyrion and Sansa, the “background” political schemers, to team up and take down a threat their respective “foreground” leaders are blind to. Dany, because she lets LF get into her head (she’s new to westerosi “lobbying” and has so many desires a little shit like LF could exploit) and Jon, because “the great war is here. We have more important things to worry about”. 

I would love the political scheming to have a bigger impact on the war of the dawn, because that’s just how humans are (see global warming). You first have to take out the human trash, before taking care of the supernatural one. 

Why not Dany?

One thing that doesn’t quite fit is that “last best hope” sounds a bit … disappointed? Maybe that’s just me but it has this “You aren’t that much, but better than the other shit options we have.” “your father and brothers are gone” … but implying that the mother of dragons isn’t clearly our best chance against the white walker doesn’t really make sense. 

If he had said “only hope” or “the / our best hope or even “the / our last best hope” … it would be feel less ambigious. I know this is such a small, probably meaningless detail but not using an article/pronoun gives me these meeehhh-vibes, somehow.

Well, they won’t meet on the show with a 99% certainty. So last place for Dany. 

Third place: Arya | he’s talking about politics (mostly)

Why Arya? LF will (unsuccesfully) attempt to drive a wedge between the stark sisters. Pretending that he’s the one working in the starks best interest, whereas Sansa’s loyalty can’t really be trusted will definitely be part of his scheme. (But I don’t buy into those stupid “letter to robb from s1″ leak. Stupid letter is stupid.) In this scenario he would “warn her of southern threats and influences” embodied by sansa, since this would clearly be an attempt to emphasize Arya’s “starkness”.  

Omitting Jon as one of her “brothers” could mean three things: “gone” doesn’t mean dead, but simply “not in winterfell right now”, he’s a bastard and not her true “brother” OR R+L=J WAS ALREADY REVEALED.

Why not Arya? This would only work if Bran and Jon both aren’t around yet/anymore and I’d say it’s pretty unlikely anyway. I just wanted to include it for the sake of completeness. Third place for Arya.

Second place: Bran | he’s talking about both (mostly politics)

Why Bran ?  LF is trying to manipulate the “young lord stark” into turning against his bastard brother who’s threateting to steal his birthright. Omitting Jon as one of his “brothers” is something LF would do out of spite, but maybe ~ just maybe ~ it could hint at Jon’s true parentage as well. 

He could try to pull another “Robin Arryn”, and try to get into a vulnerable, young boys (teenagers?) head. I really think that getting Jon out of the picture - completely - is LF’s main priority in Winterfell right now. 

Bran might actually be the rightful ruler of the north (despite your opinion on the matter), but eliminating him would be way easier if he didn’t have an older (half)brother around to watch over him. At least in LF’s mind, Bran is nothing but a child, who knows nothing about ruling and can’t walk anymore. Getting Bran on his side would make it pretty easy to get rid off Jon. After that desposing of a crippled boy shouldn’t be to hard and Sansa & Winterfell are ready for the taking. 

Why not Bran?Well, Bran isn’t really “standing” anymore. This could just be a very mean jest (saying that to Bran would be very much intentional). If Littlefinger had said “yet, here you are” Bran would be sharing first place with sansa, but instead he’s sharing second place with Jon. 

Second place: Jon | he’s talking about the White Walkers

Why Jon? He is trying to manipulate him into doing some dumb shit (like going on a stupid wight hunt, for example). LF wants jon gone. He needs jon gone. Pretending to be on his side would be a smart move. 

Why not Jon?Littlefinger would never ever call Robb, Bran and Rickon Jon’s brothers without making it sound like “brothers (but not really, because you’re a bastard)”. As I said above he could be trying to kiss jon’s ass, but I honestly think that’s rather unlikely. I don’t think his ego would allow him to be so nice to the man who snatched “his sansa” away right from under his nose. But I could be very wrong about this, so second place for Jon. 

First place: Sansa | he’s talking about the political threats

Why Sansa? Well, when has Littlefinger not tried to manipulate Sansa? His reasoning for saying this to Sansa is the old “you, my love, are the future of house stark” . Those two statemens feel so similar, it could just be more of the same old.  

Until proven wrong I am going to assume LF thinks the White Walkers are complete bullshit. He will try to convince sansa that jon is wasting his energy on the wrong threat and take the “look at our idiot king worrying about fairy tales, when all this real shit is going down in the south. you have to stand up and take care of the real problems, or the north is doomed” approach. 

What doesn’t sit quite well with me is that he simply says “brothers”. His previous interactions with sansa make me believe he wouldn’t miss an oppurtunity to openly throw some shade at jon’s bastard-y. 

If “gone” only implies that all her “male relatives” aren’t in winterfell anymore, he would say “your father, brother, even your half-brother are gone …” or something like it. If “gone” means gone, as in dead, he would have said “father and true brothers”. I can’t quite put my finger on why, but compared to arya and bran, he would emphazise jon being their half-brother more directly when talking to Sansa. It’s just a gut-feeling I have. I might be wrong about this, since we only get this one, out of context sentence . The next thing sansa says could very well be “jon is ..” and LF finishing her sentence “… your half-brother. A bastard, not a true stark.” Omitting Jon could be a set-up for such a conversation.

OR: They know about R+L=J - can we have that, pretty please? The sentiment behind it would actually be the same, Jon isn’t a true stark and he “stole” sansas birthright.

(Some fandom wank on the side: Can you believe that some people give sansa so much shit for ~ maybe ~ being a tiny bit frustrated about being looked over as heir to winterfell, while simultaniously cheering for a certain dragon queen “to take what is hers with fire and blood, because she was born to rule the seven k-doms” Fucking hypocrites.)

Why not Sansa? It would be a bit too obvious, maybe? I honestly can’t think of  a single reason that would feel out of place, so first place for sansa. 

[skeletonwoman]

Making Magic (Bucky)

this is a lovely and kinda ambigious in a good way request from a member of the skele club, @skeletoresinthebasement

pretty average WARNINGS, which are swearing and mentions of sex and lots of overreactions 

You couldn’t help yourself. Maybe it was the party, maybe it was the lights or the alcohol. Perhaps the mood, the crazy feeling in the air, or just that you were tied of stopping yourself. But somehow, you’d ended up here, straddling Buckys hips, your ass on his thighs and his palms on your ass.

“Come on, doll.” He rasped, his stubble scratching against the soft skin of your jaw in a way that made you shiver. Your palms slid down his shouders, fiddling with the belt of his jeans and you felt his stomach jump with his breath.

“Okay.” You whisper and his eyes darken, and you can’t help yelping in surprise as he suddenly pushes to his feet, his hands holding you against him and your legs tightening automatically. “Oh my God.”

“Don’t wear the words out yet.” He teases in your ear and you giggle, clutching him as he carries you from the flashing lights and crowd, and back to his room. 

Tiptoeing from the room, you curse internally, trying to find as much of your outfit as you could before you scarpered from the room and bolted for your own.

“You make me sick, who has sex with their co-worker, their friend, the person they have a mission with in two days. The only buffer for the sexual and whatever emotion tension is left over after this shock exit is Peter. Peter.” You growl to yourself as you go through what you managed to save from his room. Dress, check. Shoes, check. Hair clips, stuck in your birds nest so check. Bra, wasn’t wearing one. Panties? You sigh a furious breath, trying to maintain control. Gone. “Do you hate children? Do you hate Peter? What is wrong with you? You make me ill. Christ help you. And your, where are my panties!”

Furiously, you kick the dressing table beside you, screeching just as loud as your previous roar.

“There’s seriously something wrong with me.” You whine softly, avoiding looking at your foot as you strip down again and crawl across your sheets. Inhaling a stuttering breath, you squeeze your eyes closed and try to sleep.

“Wake up! You have a physical in an hour and Bruce sent me.” Natasha shouts, her fist banging on your door furiously and you groan softly. Blinking through the crust around your eyes, you stumble toward the door, sheet barely covering you and swing it open an inch.

“I’m awake.” You croak, your voice breaking and you frown at the sound. Wow. Last night was wilder than you remember.

“It was a ploy. I’m coming in.” Natasha smirks, shoving through the door and you hiss, leaping out of the way just in time an barely managing to keep your already hurt foot from more damage. “We all saw you leave like a koala last night, show me yourself.”

You groan, holding out the arm that isn’t holding up your sheet and waving it toward your body.

“I can’t make fun of your exit.” She observes, biting her lip and smirking. She glances at the closed door before returning her gaze to you. “Why’re you here?”

“Because I’m a f*cking idiot.” You shrug, limping into your bathroom and leaning over the sink. Natasha snatches the sheet from you as you pass her and all you can do is sigh in response. Splashing water on your face, you scrub as much of last nights makeup off as you can and glower at your reflection. “I slept with a co-worker and I have a mission with him tomorrow.”

“Not if you don’t pass the physical.” Natasha cuts in and you groan. You don’t glance down at your foot, but it hasn’t much touched the ground since you woke up.

“What’re they going to do? Change me out and upset the roster? No way. Not send me? Not with Peter on board.” You grumble, shooing her backwards and closing the door to a crack. “I’m peeing.”

“Sure.” Natasha laughs, “And of course they wouldn’t send you if you weren’t perfect. But you are perfect, so I hope you’re excited.”

“Have you seen him? Seen Steve maybe?” You mutter, rising and washing your hands before glancing around the bathroom for your toothbrush.

“Nope, though I kind of wish I had. I came here before I went to his room, I had a feeling you’d flee.”

“I better than fled. I bolted. I galloped. I… What’s a word for when a plane goes faster than the speed of sound and makes a sonic boom? Flew doesn’t really work.” You frown, shoving the toothbrush in your mouth.

“Doesn’t matter, I have the picture.” Natasha shrugs, pushing the door open. “Wait… Your ass.”

You glance back, only to gape. Whipping around, you stare at Natasha, your mouth open and foam coating your lips. Her lips twitch, her eyes sparkling.

“He spanked me.” You whisper, toothpaste spit flying from your mouth.

“Hard, it looks like.” She snickers and you groan, your head falling backwards and the toothbrush return to your mouth. “You didn’t feel it?”

“I haven’t sat down yet! I slept on my tum.” You moan, washing the foam from your mouth and groaning.

“Anything you wish to declare?” Bruce teases lightly, and you groan, grinning all the same. Helen Cho stands to his left, and your specialized doctor, Melissa, on her left.

“I kicked my foot. And last night I was thoroughly spanked. That’s all I can think of.” You mutter, shifting uncomfortably on the examination table and Melissa snickers, covering her mouth with her clipboard.

“Um…” Bruce coughs, shaking his head before refocusing on you. “Let’s see your foot then.”

You grin at the exasperation on his face and proffer your aching foot, the one you have pointedly not looked at.

“Christ, Y/N.” Helen hisses, her gentle hands taking control from Bruces and you wince, still glaring at the wall to your right. “What’d you do, slam it in a door seven times?”

“How about kicked a dresser in a fit of embarrassed rage?” You offer pathetically and Melissa clucks at you, all three of them combining their disapproval and disappointment till it fills the room. Hell, you can practically smell it. Smells like a hospital examination room. “Sorry.”

“She can’t go.” Melissa sighs, and your head jerks toward the three of them, their expressions as if she just said what they were all thinking.

“No, I have to go!” You cut in, a deep fear filling you that this is just the beginning. One missed mission, a few missed breaifings, one sex scandal and suddenly the recipe is done and you’re out. “I need to be there.”

“Steve can go.” Bruce pipes up, eyeing the chart in his hand and you don’t know what to do. None of them look at you, the sense of foreboding building in you.

“I have to go!” You snap, but their eyes pass over you as if you’re not even there. “Please.”

“It’s not happening, Y/N.” Helen orders, her voice the final word and you shrink, tears filling your eyes.

“Someone will be in shortly, we have paperwork to do.” Melissa sighs, exiting with the other two on her heels and your hands shake as you pat your pockets and fish out your phone.

“Natasha? They won’t let me go.”

“You seriously purposely hurt yourself so you wouldn’t have to face me?” Bucky snaps from the doorway and you cringe, glancing around the stark room for an exit he isn’t blocking.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to- It was an accident.”

“Which part?” He snarls, his voice a breath and you wince, not meeting his eyes.

“All of it?” You ask and he growls, shaking his head furiously.

“I honestly- F*ck, Y/N.” He snarls, forcing you to meet his eyes for half a second before he’s storming out the door.

Something splats on your hand and you realize you’re crying.

“They’re due back.” Natasha warns you, setting a bowl of popcorn in your lap and you groan softly, staring at the white puffs.

“I’m a bit of a dick, aren’t I?” You sigh, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth and chewing unhappily. “Me, takes the hottest guy I know to bed, whom I’ve wanted to bed forever, and then I turn it into a fiasco. No, no, wait. Me, beds this guy, but also wants to adore this guy, snuggle this guy, Netflix and chill with this guy, eventually buy a kitten with this guy and slowly make this guy fall in love with me, but then I run away and make a dick of myself.”

Natasha stares at you, rolling her eyes. “Please, talk to Sam about how to use a meme cause you’re doing it wrong.”

“Screw you.” You mutter bitterly, shoving another handful in your mouth. “But in all seriousness. I really wanted him and then my brain exploded or something? Did I have a mental break? Did I get dicked down so well that I went momentarily loopy?”

Someone snorts from the doorway and you jerk around, your jaw dropping at the sight of Steve, Bucky and Peter standing in the doorway. Peter grins widely, his cheeks red and Buckys lips are curled angrily.

“Close your mouth.” Natasha mutters and your teeth clack together at the speed you shut your jaws, twisting hurriedly back to the way you were facing. Red climbs your face but you keep your expression blank.

“Nice work, man.” Steve murmurs and Natasha snickers, a soft groan escaping you despite yourself.

“Please murder me, before I say anything more.” You plead, Natasha laughing like the malevolent goddess she is.

“Not today.” She chuckles, scooping up her bowl of popcorn and heading for the door, or so you assume because you’re specifically not looking in that direction.

Scuffling sounds beside you and Bucky appears at your side.

“Wanna talk?” He mutters bitterly and you hiss a breath.

“Please, you don’t have to.”

“I really do.” He sighs, jerking his head toward the door where Steve has his arms crossed and a dark look to his expression.

“Oh.” You mumble, rubbing your temples before gesturing to Natashas seat. “I must say, I handled this poorly. Worse than poorly, I handled it like a doctor during plague times. And I’m sorry.”

He smirks, only to frown and pull his lips back into a tight line. “That’s about right.”

“I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.” You start, groaning as his expression shutters. “No, no, I meant for it to happen, but not… If it happened ever, I expected less drunken hookup circumstances and more long time friends giving in to desire and realizing they’re fantastic together circumstances.”

Bucky rubs his mouth roughly, not hiding his smile well enough and you try not to let it go to your head.

“Long time friends giving in to desire?” He asks softly and you groan, rubbing your eyes.

“You spanked me.” You hiss, glancing over your shoulder at Steve who stands facing into the hallway.

“I know.” He whispers back, sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, poking your tongue at him.

“I mean, I had to sit through a physical and then sit through getting a cast on my broken foot.” You hiss and he smirks, pride filling his eyes. “It really hurt!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have messed up your foot then.” He shrugs and you narrow your eyes on him, anger rising in you.

“You caused that!” You accuse and he scoffs, giving you a look like you need to get real.

“How?”

“You and your stupid magical dick is how.” You snarl, startling a laugh from him, and you flush with pride at the sight of it.

“Me and my magical dick are sorry, then.” He teases and you brighten further, your chin tilting up.

“I am also sorry, though my privates haven’t received any compliments so… Yeah.” You shrug and he chuckles, sighing.

“Trust me, you’re magic too.” He promises, voice sultry and you nod easily.

“Thought so.”

“So… Maybe we could try this again?” He asks hesitantly and you chew your lip, staring at the pillow between the two of you.

“I hope so.”

no editing WASSUP