#this whole look & vibe just does something to me @_@

[tracklessreason]

Hi. It's me again.

WHERE THE FRICK IS BUMBLEBEE?! Sorry, let me calm down and retry.

Thank you for answering my last ask, I can't help but notice how no one knows where Bee's ghost is. And Megatron is the one looking into the Matrix... Is he haunting Megatron? Trying to stop him from doing it? Helping him?

Is Optimus's ghost following Ratchet around like a sad puppy?

Also just the pairings- Jazz with Megatronus? THat sounds... like fun.

Do the primes miss the other Primes and ask their host if they can check on the other bots that got shrapeneled? Maybe one of them asks if they can find a way to talk with the others... or maybe they can talk trough the hosts... maybe... (ah ah possessed arc)

(PS I really vibe with Hive's whole deal, he is very cool :D and I'm devastated that I'm the one that discovered how he explodes)

Hug hug!

Hi again!!! Don't worry, Bee is still here!

His spirit is just...struggling. He's weak at first, flickering like a dying light bulb. He hasn't left the fractured core of the Matrix still in his corpse, but his soul signature is so weak no one can find him. He's just sort of trapped there for a while, in the burnt out room he died in. Until Megatron of course.

Megatron breaks into the autobot base, walks past every sleeping mech he could easily have snuffed, and steals the Matrix core, and by unintentional extension, steals Bumblebee. Now at first, Bee is rightfully upset. He hates being at the gloomy decepticon base, he hates Megatron for taking his voice, he's just mad. Time passes as Megatron tinkers with the core, and Bee regains strength enough to....throw things???

It shouldn't be possible. Somehow this unstable remnant of the Matrix doesn't contain him, but merely houses him, and as he grows stronger, he can appear as an apparition to Megatron. He uses it almost solely to hinder him. With no voice (even ghost Bee gets no respite) all he can really do is mess up Megatron's workspace and insult him through pantomime. Really he doesn't understand why Megatron puts up with it, but aside from the occasional fit of rage at his antics, the decepticon leader ignores him as much as possible and puts his all into trying to restore the Matrix.

Before long he starts having one sided conversations with Bumblebee. Its mostly complaints at first, and insults towards him and the autobots and whatever else goes wrong in his life outside of this little workshop Bee cant leave. It soon gives way to more private matters; intentionally or not, Megatron is revealing his very convoluted, very mixed feelings about Optimus Prime.

The war has gone on too long, why couldn't that idiot just see things from his perspective, he deserved to die, he will be brought back, how could his oldest friend just leave him like this...

To Bee it sounds...exactly like how Optimus felt about Megatron, just drowned in molten anger issues. Against his self preservation instinct, Bee decides to work towards putting this whole mess to bed. Nothing better to do.

With what limited knowledge and communication he has, he does his best to try and help Megatron fix the Matrix. They have spats still, and plenty of set backs, but things smooth over when Megatron (begrudgingly) admits to feelings of regret over taking Bee's voice. As an olive branch, Bee explains something to Megatron that he's been dying to know: how Optimus died.

Things sour fast. Megatron is determined to murder Starscream, Bee is frustratedly trying to explain that if he does so, this little partnership of convenience is over, and he will ensure that the Matrix is never restored. The end of the war relies almost solely on Megatron reeling in his damn anger, and Bee doesnt intend to allow any slip ups. He has no idea how this will end when Megatron leaves the workshop that night.

On the other side of things, the Primes are having a real...weird time?? The ones without hosts can communicate with each other, but the other four are basically cut off from all but their hosts. They don't have the ability to take control anymore, and even if they did, their hosts are nowhere near as easy to possess, nor as willing, as Hive Prime was. Ratchet especially has threatened to tear the Matrix metal from his frame and grind it to dust if Prima so much as thinks about trying it. The other three hosts are similarly put off.

Once again the Primes are relegated to giving advice, but it's not advice anyone seems to want, and yeah, it's mostly because of the wild pairings. Megatronus is constantly clutching his pearls over Jazz's laid-back attitude and deliberate ignorance of his wishes. Prima's calm rationality does little to temper Ratchet's snappy demeanor and only really gets on his nerves (how can you be so calm after what you all did?). Ironhide straight up refuses to acknowledge Quintus. Drift is probably the only one feeling alright with all this. Alpha Trion is generally reasonable, and isn't interested in having control over Drift's form, nor was he interested in it with Hive, so they just vibe like college roommates.

It's uncomfortable, but the Primes are used to sharing space. The worst part is actually sharing it with fewer mechs than usual. The Primes all miss each other to varying degrees, but for the most part are either too egotistical to admit it, or think it improper to mention.

Of course, grand prize for worst ghost time currently goes to Optimus. Dying, watching Bee suffer, feeling his friend's life force extinguish...

He might as well be a husk right now, full on silent treatment is all he's capable of at the moment. The other Primes know better than to try and speak with him. This is their doing to begin with, the channeling of their energy that strained Bee so heavily. Optimus follows the elected council around during the days, but at night he sits outside the room where Hive's body rests. He was there the night that Megatron broke in.

It takes immense effort to travel far enough out from the base to go see Megatron, and he needs several cycles to recover after every attempt, but he keeps doing it, knowing he could fade away permanently. When he gets there, he's too weak for Bee or Megatron to detect him. But he can hear their talks. He misses them both more than words can say.

(Sorry the response is so long, lol. This ask really got the gears turning in my head. I hope at least that makes up for being the one to find out that Ending 3 Hive dies bloody. I'm really flattered to hear you like him! For me that's quite high praise coming from you. Hug hug!)

[writingfics-passingtime]

Bucky and queen song

Waving Your Banner

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: We Will Rock You - Queen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (flirtatious, no pronouns used)

Word Count: ~1300

CW: swearing, some flirting, suggestive jokes, a bit of tickling

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a flirtatious/suggestive interaction between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

Note: Thanks, anon! My initial note-to-self from when you first sent this was, verbatim, "okay but dodgeball would be fucken hilarious with we will rock you" - so we've gone with an Avengers training game vibe with this one

The woods hummed with tension, broken by the occasional crack of a branch or the muffled thud of boots. The Avengers had turned what should’ve been a simple training game into an all-out war, and your team was desperate to gain the upper hand. Somewhere ahead, in the shadow of the tree-line, stood the final obstacle: Bucky Barnes, silent, brooding, and lethal, guarding his team’s flag, the White Wolf circling his den.

You crouched beside Sam behind a cluster of bushes, your pulse steady but sharp as you surveyed the terrain. Bucky was right where you expected him, leaning casually against a tree just outside the flag's perimeter. He looked calm, detached even, but you knew better. The slightest flicker of movement would set him in motion, and if he was after you, there’d be no escaping. Flag perimeters were a no-fly-zone, so you and Sam would have to take it on foot.

“Alright,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “We need a plan. And by we, I mean you, because I’m not getting anywhere near the Winter Soldier.”

You shot him an incredulous look. “You’re faster than me.”

“He’s a wall. A brick wall with trust issues and superhuman reflexes.”

You sighed, pressing your back against the thick trunk of a tree. “Then we need a distraction. Something that’ll actually make him move.”

Sam raised a brow. “Oh, yeah? What’s your genius plan?”

“You,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “You could bait him. Taunt him. Goad him into leaving his post.”

“And get steamrolled by the murder machine? Hard pass.” He scoffed. "Besides, you’re obviously better bait.”

The heat rushed to your face immediately. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on,” Sam teased, his grin widening. “You’ve got that whole… thing going on.”

“What thing?”

He waved a hand vaguely at you. “You know. The whole ‘badass with a secret soft side’ thing. He’ll eat it up. Hell, I think the whole team’s noticed the way he looks at you.”

You glared at him. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“He does,” Sam interrupted, revelling in your reaction. “Come on, you could probably get him to do whatever you wanted. Just say something like, ‘Oh, Bucky, is that a vibranium arm or are you just happy to see m-”

You shoved him into the bush.

Sam tried to silence his little grunts as he pulled himself out, yanking the twigs from his armour plates. “Fine. You wanna argue about this all day, or should we win?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Just send in Redwing.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

The plan was simple enough: Redwing would create a distraction in a bush behind Bucky, luring him away from the flag, giving you and Sam time to move in and grab it. You moved carefully, keeping low as you crept through the underbrush. The tension in the air was electric, every rustle of leaves amplified by your own awareness of how close Bucky was.

But, true to form, Sam couldn’t resist screwing with you.

As you crept closer to the clearing, Redwing darted toward you and made a ruckus in the bush partially shielding you from view. It was more than enough to give you away, and before you could even curse Sam’s name, you heard it - the unmistakable sound of boots crunching leaves, closing in fast.

Your head whipped around just in time to see Bucky moving toward you with the kind of speed that made your heart stutter. His expression was sharp, predatory, and - gods help you - just a little amused.

“Shit,” you muttered, bolting from your hiding spot.

“Running won’t help you,” Bucky called after you, his voice dark and smooth, laced with amusement.

You didn’t bother responding, too focused on dodging tree trunks and low-hanging branches. But it didn’t matter how fast you ran; he was faster. In seconds, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you clean off your feet.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice low in your ear.

“Not yet, you don’t,” you growled, twisting sharply in his grip.

You elbowed him in the side, breaking free for a split second, but he was faster. He blocked your next move, his vibranium hand catching your wrist and spinning you around. You didn’t go down without a fight, aiming a kick at his shin and struggling against his hold, refusing to make it easy for him.

“Feisty,” he muttered, almost admiringly, his grip tightening as you wrestled.

You managed to get one arm free, landing a half-decent shove against his chest. He staggered back slightly but recovered in less than an instant, his smirk returning, sharper than before.

“Alright,” he said, his voice edged with amusement, “you wanna play rough? Let’s play rough.”

Before you could react, he was on you, trapping you between his body and the wide trunk of a tree. His fingers darted to your ribs, pressing against your sides with infuriating precision.

You jolted, a startled laugh bursting out before you could stop it. “What the fu- hey! No, that’s cheating!”

“Cheating?” he echoed, his grin widening as he tickled you again, this time catching your waist. “You’re the one trying to fight dirty.”

You squirmed, trying to slap his hands away, but the tickling was relentless, and your traitorous laughter left you weak, your arms useless.

“No! I- dammit, Barnes!”

Seizing the moment, he stepped back, grabbed both your wrists and yanked you against him, hauling you effortlessly over his shoulder. You kicked your legs in protest, but his grip was unyielding, his hand steady against the backs of your thighs.

“Put me down!” you demanded, pounding your fists against his unfairly muscled back.

“Not until you’re in jail,” he said, his voice low and smooth, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” you grumbled, your cheeks burning as you felt his arm tighten around your thighs.

He chuckled, the sound warm and agonising. “Unusual, maybe. But I’d say you’re enjoying it.”

“Barnes!” you snapped, squirming harder.

His laughter deepened, and he carried you with an ease that was both infuriating and maddeningly attractive. When he finally stopped, he set you down just outside the jail, his hands lingering at your waist.

“Let me go,” you said, though the bite in your tone had softened.

He stepped closer, his body a looming presence as his eyes bore into yours. “Say please.”

You scowled, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Didn’t think so,” he said, his smirk widening as he stepped forward, forcing you to step back - straight into the jail’s boundary.

You glared at him, your chest heaving as he stood just inches away, his gaze dark and intent. “Happy now?”

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, “but close.”

Before you could fire back, Sam’s triumphant whoop echoed through the trees. You turned just in time to see him flying above your team's base with Bucky's team's flag, waving it over his head like a trophy.

Bucky groaned, his head falling back briefly before he levelled a sharp glare at you. “Distraction,” he muttered under his breath with a shake of his head, the word practically dripping with accusation.

Your lips curved into a coy smile despite yourself.

“You’re too damn good at it,” he said, his tone darker now, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned and stalked off.

Flushed, you called after him. "This isn't over, Barnes!"

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, turning to face you as he walked backwards towards his next mission. "Not by a long shot."

[qqueenofhades]

I bought your 'Empire' the other day (which I am excited about; I haven't started it yet), but somehow completely missed that you had written historical fiction, and about the Plantagenets, my favourite historical dynasty, so I'll be jumping on that.

I was wondering if you had recommendations for historical fiction set during the Plantagenet reign? I've tried Sharon Kay Penman and unfortunately didn't get on with her writing, which is a shame as I've heard good things about her series. I know Philippa Gregory has several novels set during that time period, but her books seem to be verging on bodice rippers, which isn't what I'm looking for. Was just curious if you had any suggestions for well-researched fiction set during the Plantagenet reign.

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for several days (my apologies) largely because I was trying to think of a more helpful answer for you. Medieval historical fiction is VERY hit and miss for me, not least because it is often written by people who, uh, are not historians and thus have Certain Ideas (TM) about what the medieval period is like. Or they want to use various aesthetics, or they want to make some (usually questionable) point about how women were treated in the past, or they just go whole-hog on total nonsense. As an example of all of these things at once, let us all stare in horror at this recently-released book description together:

(The book is called the Stone Witch of Florence, by the way. I took one look at this and ran screaming. WHY.)

A stone witch?? So she channels the power of gemstones like a modern-day Instagram healing crystals influencer??? BUT ZOMGZ WITCHCRAFT. In the middle of the Black Death. "Unorthodox cures" you say. But they also need holy relics for protection, and I totally trust the author to understand about medieval hagiography/cult of the saints. Totally. We definitely won't get some half-baked comparison between Sekrit Women Magical Gems Which Really Work and Dark Ages Church Superstition Holy Relics Which Are A Fraud, or.... something??? And our nobly mistreated protagonist will super definitely be a real physician if she gets these and never ever accused of witchcraft (which LET US ALL SAY IT TOGETHER IS AN EARLY MODERN THING!!!!) Because medieval medicine was just a bunch of gemstone vibes anyway! Makes total sense!

...my head hurts.

Anyway, while not all examples are this egregious, the point is: I love historical fiction, but I almost always can't read it when it's set in the medieval era. I read Sharon Kay Penman a while ago and enjoyed her stuff at the time, though I have assorted gripes with it on a stylistic/historical level. While Philippa Gregory does have real academic credentials, she likewise has gone totally down the bodice-ripper alternate-history crackpot theory Secret Women Magic version of things, which is... fine if that's your jam, but just like you, it is not mine. I thus have to read fiction which is set in other periods or which I know less about or where at least I am more capable of turning off my brain and accepting things for the sake of the story. So as you see, I unfortunately don't have many useful suggestions for you in this field, since the kind of medieval historical fiction that I like to recommend is, say, The Name of the Rose. Which is terrific and written for someone of a professional medievalist's level of knowledge, but is not exactly everyone's cup of tea when they just want something fun and easy to understand.

I am, of course, happy to give other book recommendations if you'd like to broaden your request, and I'll do my best to think -- but yes! As I said, I wish I could be more helpful here. I shall persist.

(Also, of course: thanks for buying EMPIRE! I do hope you enjoy.)

[hyog-blog]

Fangs of Fortune (ep. 06 - ep. 07)

Uh, not Li Lun, out of all people, making everyone finally question why Zhu Yan actually killed Yichen's brother and all those people years ago. We know he lost control over his malicious energy, but why didn't anyone ask him why it happened? Come on, people, you seem to be so smart))

Well, Wen Xiao seems to be accepting enough to not care about what our gorgeous Demon Lord has done in the past, which is quite refreshing. Ambiguous, morally grey characters need more unconditional love (especially when they're, uh, 34,000 years old? XD). But he doesn't even seem to be so 'grey' at this point - he's doing too many good things right now.

The whole thing with being a 'vessel for malicious energy' is quite intriguing. Was he born like that? Can he actually stop 'the cycle of rebirth'? Why did he 'lose control' after so many years of cultivation? I'm also trying to figure out the timeline - the killings must have happened after he dropped Wen Xiao off at what seemed to be the gates to the demon-hunting bureau. But she wasn't staying there when that stuff happened? Did his demonic self come back there just to wreak havoc or for some other reason? Was Li Lun involved? Mmmm, the plot is deliciously mysterious, I will have to wait to get those answers.

Also, I can't even be angry with Li Lun at this point, although he's playing the bad guy now - the poor baby was so visibly hurt when Zhu Yan called him a scumbag. And that painful look he had when our Demon Lord thought something along the lines 'screw you, I know how to wake this boy up from his nightmare' and pierced himself with Yichen's sword (which, uh, seems to be quite a recurring motif and the symbolism of it isn't escaping me, nope XD). In the world of jianghu, the next best thing you can do to show you CARE apart from cutting sleeves is to stab (or get stabbed by) the person you care about. Or get stabbed FOR the person you care about.

I also love how effortlessly Yichen is third-wheeling without creating a feeling that he's actually third-wheeling XD Wen Xiao is obviously biased towards Zhu Yan, now even more so that she knows he IS that Great Demon who accompanied her and the Bai Ze Goddess all those years ago. I would totally trust him, too, if I were her. I also love the messed-up dynamic of a former caretaker/child who's grown up because now Zhu Yan definitely doesn't give us those parental vibes, he's oozing sensuality wherever he goes (and him pretending to be all hurt so she stays with him, ahah, that whole sequence was cute and hilarious). And Zhu Yan saying something along the lines that they now get to 'meet all over again' - was it to build a new relationship with her from scratch? M-hmm, yummy, utterly delicious :D

And you can see how Yichen kinda sorta admits defeat in the way Wen Xiao no longer needs his protection against the 'big bad demon' (the man is using his big bad demonic energy to push her swing, for Christ's sake XD), but still can't let the other man go so easily because of REASONS and that 'you'll have to pay for your sins either way' thing still going on between them. Zhu Yan does know what buttons to push when it comes to Yichen, but the feeling seems to be quite mutual (they're cute together and their interactions are so yummy 😍). That scene at the temple is EVERYTHING. And then at Zhu Yan's mansion with the swing. Is he swinging both ways? Ahah XD For a 34,000-year-old being I don't see how that could be an issue)))

Okay, cutting and piercing still seem to be the show's love language and I APPROVE (never had a kink like that, but there's a first thing for everything, I guess XD). The undertones just make it all so yum))

The introduction of the new character, Yinglei, was hilarious))) We also find out that the Wilderness is crumbling down, which makes the whole Bai Ze token thing even more important.

/and I've finally reached the picture limit in one tumblr post, ahah XD/

[umemiyan]

𝙄𝙉 𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙄𝙁𝙐𝙇 𝘿𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙈𝙎.

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗧𝗔 𝗢𝗞𝗞𝗢𝗧𝗦𝗨 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / incest / noncon somnophilia (char. receiving) / so like… kinda dom!reader if you wanna look at it like that, but it’s not really a hard dynamic in this / unprotected piv / some codependent vibes / reader has a vagina but there are no other physical or gendered descriptors / 3.2k words

notes: this was supposed to be for kinktober with the prompts incest + somnophilia, and i'm a whole month late but here we are!!! once again i have managed to have no chill and have overdone it a bit so it took me forever. but enjoy! thank you to everyone who originally voted in my kinktober polls <3 (moon dividers by cafekitsune)

He never sleeps as well as when he’s with you, and that has never been less than fact.

The dark circles under his eyes had settled in after years of strife and the both of you growing “too old” to sleep side by side, at least according to your family. It wasn’t healthy, they said. You needed to learn to respectively mature on your own, they said.

Yuuta tried. He did. Although he had been steered away from his one shining beacon of light in a world full of darkness, what sort of brother would he be if he held you back from growing into the best version of yourself? To be selfish and indulge in his childish wants and needs was a frequent guilty desire of his, but he ultimately forced himself to refrain as much as he could manage.

He never slept well after that; not unless he could find an excuse to sneak into your bed, or you sneak into his. You were a sedative every time, lulling him to sleep with the warmth of your breath and body, familiar closeness stripping the worries of the world away so that he could rest. Nothing else ever worked so perfectly, even now that you both have grown.

That’s why, after the conclusion of a family gathering, sneaking into each other’s presence was a no-brainer.

Yuuta had joined you in the guest bedroom of your childhood home to decompress after his inability to do so alone. The both of you had taken on many responsibilities throughout the day, and while he certainly enjoyed spending time with the family, a restful night alone with you was what he craved the most by the end of it. Thankfully, having felt the same way, you didn’t hesitate to raise the covers and let him slide under until you both chit-chatted yourselves to sleep.

Now, Yuuta’s arms keep you close with their gentle grip around your waist, having at some point pulled you into him until the tips of your noses are mere inches apart. You’ve fluttered out of sleep for a moment to see him resting peacefully with all the grace of an angel, wearing his slumber so effortlessly as though it never dares to evade him.

But it does, because the darkened skin beneath his eyes has made its home there for longer than you can recall, telling all who will listen that he is tormented by the absence of something. Whether it be proper brain chemistry, the responsibility to maintain a schedule, or simple peace of mind, no one knows as he never divulges, but Yuuta is haunted by lack, and not even your keen sense of sibling intuition can sniff out just what it is that he needs. Or so you believe, at least.

Although he receives the brunt of it, you can feel it too—the ache. It settles deep within every crevice to remind you of its presence whenever you dare to forget, no matter how often you seem to shove it away with success. It always rattles your bones until Yuuta smiles in your direction like the sun revealing itself from a place behind the clouds, and you are reminded of fulfillment. 

Oh, how he is your sunshine; your magnificent ray of light. It warms the cavity of your chest even as you lie here in the darkness.

Fingertips trace over the matching darkness beneath his eyes and down the slope of his nose to the outline of his pink, parted lips. He doesn’t even stir, too weighed upon by the thick blanket of sleep to pay any mind. You are delirious with awe, stricken by the heavenly beauty of the one who quells the ache. Does he know you love him so? Is he aware of the radiant beauty that compels you to draw closer like a moth to the flame?

Will he know if you lean forward to press an indulgent kiss upon his lips?

It’s a gentle peck that makes his brow twitch with unconscious curiosity. Were you privy to his dreams, you’d see that you’ve entered them, breathing life into his senses with every careful touch until his skin grows hot.

You fear you’ve woken him once his hips stir, but sleep pervades even as Yuuta’s breath seems to tickle your skin with more frequency, every quickened beat of his heart causing the more shallow rising of his lungs. You dare to press your lips to his once more, desperate for the satisfaction of his reaction, and you aren’t disappointed—Yuuta’s embrace tightens around you, breath hitching discreetly like a startled angel’s, and it’s when his hips roll forward again that the hardness pressing against your lower half becomes evident.

He dreams of your gentle kisses, of your breath gracing his skin, and he returns the favor in his mind now that he knows you’ll allow it. It will be a source of shame once he awakens, but dreams of this caliber are few and far between, something to be cherished in the moment without guilt or hesitation. As if he even has a choice.

Carefully, you hike your leg up over his hip to press yourself closer to the part of him that strains against fabric. You want to feel intertwined, strange as it might be; you want to infiltrate his mind like he does yours, sense his want and need, try and be privy to things that cannot possibly be known. But it’s so easy to be close like this, as though it were always meant to be, or always had been.

He’s warm between your hips. Real. The antidote to a deepseated loneliness and need to be with another, even if only in superficial touch. But will you settle for that?

No. You are greedy.

Yuuta, still captured in a dream, is somewhat easy to maneuver onto his back with a few gentle pushes, his body desperate to mold to yours until you are perfectly perched atop him. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, and you can almost feel his warm cock twitch through his pajamas beneath the new weight of your hips. The adjacent scenario in his mind grows increasingly realistic while you grow hungrier for every facet of his reaction.

Does he dream of you? Does he long for the sensation of your bodies finding harmony with one another like you do? You can’t say you haven’t imagined it yourself prior, mind drifting to the taboo when presented with his matured figure, though it still holds the same heat of familiarity from when you would curl up next to each other in your youth. It’s the ultimate combination of love and desecration that satisfies this abhorrent hunger you’ve found yourself plagued by, and even if it causes everything around you to come tumbling down, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

Yuuta’s breath hitches once more, brow furrowing as you rock yourself down against him with care. You know he deserves an undisturbed rest, even if the one he dreams of isn’t you, so you daren’t wake him now of all times. You’ll aid in his unconscious need while also indulging in your own.

You grind your hips a number of times, but the results are consequently underwhelming. The softness with which you must do it to avoid waking him is to blame, your lust being inhibited to prevent you from moving against him with the entirety of your animalistic need. 

Yuuta, however, grunts with pleasure at the friction while you selfishly yearn for more, so after diligently working the waistband of his pants to sit a few inches lower on his hips, you pull your panties to the side and press your wet cunt directly upon the bulge in his briefs.

You shiver at the contact, resisting the urge to moan out loud into the quiet air as Yuuta’s cock rubs against you through the thinnest of layers. He’s leaky and throbbing below your clit as it drags once, twice, three times over him in an establishing rhythm, fabric growing wetter with each pass you make and his gentle moans escaping with greater frequency. You bite down on the collar of your shirt to refrain from mimicking his vocalization, but upon another scan with your eyes, you recall that there are other things you could be doing with your mouth.

Yuuta’s throat is exposed as his head lolls off to the side on the pillow, and you lean down to busy yourself with reverent kisses upon the sensitive skin. Your hips stutter in their movement now that you have succumb to the distraction of sucking on his neck, but Yuuta doesn’t seem to mind—in fact, he mewls and whines so decadently in his sleep that you are compelled to make the regrettable decision of sucking until there is a mark that reveals itself once you remove your lips.

And oh, does he look gorgeous adorning it.

You pull back to admire his needy image, but Yuuta wriggles and presses his hips up unto yours, apparently dissatisfied with your absence and seeking something more, only to make you dizzy with arousal and irrational need. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing to you, but it’s guiding you down yet another path of no return. Your beautiful angel is sending you straight to the pits of hell, and he isn’t even fully aware.

(If you could know of his dreams, you’d see that he feels quite similarly about you.)

The wet mess of Yuuta’s briefs are pulled down until his aching cock can spring out and dribble a string of precum onto his lower belly. There, a trail of dark hair paints the milky skin with masculinity, and you admire the sight for a good moment before sliding your finger over his wet tip until the muscles in his stomach twitch with delight.

Yuuta is so responsive and so malleable, easy to take in his sleep now that he feels safe enough to fall into a slumber as delectable as this. You are almost stricken finally with guilt for taking advantage of such a level of trust, but even in his unconscious state, it feels as though Yuuta is pleading for you to take him back as your most cherished thing, the one you are closest with and know more of than anyone or anything else. You feel a certain beckoning towards making up for all the years you were forced to maintain an artificial distance, to pretend as though you didn’t ache for the only person who knew you so deeply and so truly.

Stifling the hunger only made it worse in the end, because now Yuuta’s cock weeps when you stroke it and slide it between your wet folds, signaling to you that this is somehow the right decision. Perhaps it’s a matter of delusion rather than truth, but sinking down onto him fills you with nothing but pure, unfettered gratification.

You don’t hesitate to make him bottom out inside you, eager to be overwhelmed by him in every way, even if it forces a whimper to spill from your lips in the process. Yuuta responds in kind as the snug fit allows a cascade of warmth to wash over him, blissfully unaware that he is now closer to you than he ever has been, and that he cries out in his sleep over it. It’s diabolical, really, but your dear brother wears pleasure so beautifully on his face that you can’t help but fall deeper into your pit of depravity.

A wet noise makes itself known amongst heavy breaths when you raise yourself up and drop back down on his length. It’s an act so indiscreet that you can only accomplish it twice more before Yuuta’s moans shift into noises with more presence, brows furrowed, body shuffling, and eyes cracking open to be met with the sight of your hips flush against his, cock constricted by the same blinding heat he felt seconds before waking up.

Eyes growing wide, his heart leaps out of his chest with a sudden surge of panic. “What are you—hah—d-doing—?1”

Yuuta is cut off by the palm of your hand slamming over his mouth to dampen the noise, his sounds of pleasure and surprise reaching a volume that makes you wary in a house in which you are not alone.

“Shh, Yuuta, shh…” you warn in a whisper, allowing him a second to process the danger of letting his voice raise too high, all while keeping your hips moving steadily against his. 

Gradually, the panicked breathing through his nose settles to something more manageable, and Yuuta’s eyes roll into the back of his skull with a muffled grunt. “Does it feel good?” you ask, and he nods his answer, having further transitioned from alarm to living out the sinking, heavenly feeling of being coupled with you in his dream. 

The morality of it all claws painfully at the back of his skull, but Yuuta is too inundated with the physical and spiritual need that has consumed you both to pay anything else much attention. He conforms to your will because it aligns so well with his own.

“Can you be quiet?”

He nods again, seeking a firm grip against your hips as you hesitantly remove your hand from his mouth. Yuuta swallows down a breath and refrains from speaking despite all the thoughts that race through his head, and you are pleased to see how receptive he is to this unthinkable act. 

It could certainly be a fawn response from a peacekeeper such as himself, but you know he is capable of putting his foot down once a certain line has been crossed. He could throw you off him in an instant if he truly felt so deeply wronged by your actions, yet he chooses to stay nestled between your thighs and buried deep in your cunt after you take him over and over, because he wants this.

Doesn’t he?

The look in his teary eyes says he does, and so do the ragged breaths, the quivering lip between his teeth to bite back a moan, the way you swear he almost aids in guiding you up and down his length…

Yuuta, for the moment, looks to be as enthralled as you are by this disastrous development, and that reaffirming image alone will accompany you every day until you have at least one foot in the grave.

He is porcelain and pristine, framed by pillows and moonlight and looking a touch too fragile as though he might break with the next slam of your hips, but you know him to be hardy after all that has tried to chip away at him throughout his short life. Yuuta’s strength in love and spirit is as strong as the pale fingers that dig into your flesh, and he has decided amidst it all to be yours for this moment; a blessing bestowed upon you that could make the gratitude utterly burst forth from your chest.

You want to spill your glee upon his lips, have him know that you are thankful for his gratuity even if this is the first and only time he will give it, so you lean down to steal him for another kiss that he returns tenfold. Yuuta’s lips are more alive in his waking state and more than happy to drink in your taste between shaking breaths, the intimacy of having your tongue slide along his lower lip twisting the tightness in his gut to where it could rupture at any moment.

There’s a muffled whimper as he chases your hips, instincts unveiled but not more so than the part of him that has yearned for this for far longer than he can even recall. Now that it has been offered to him on a silver platter, he will devour and cherish it for the feast that it is, even if he doesn’t last long enough to savor every morsel to the extent he would like.

“I want you to cum,” you breathe, leading him ever closer towards that dangerous edge as if you know what sullies his mind. To hear those words in your voice, even if in a whisper, are like the gates of an abominable heaven opening up for him. “Please.”

Yuuta is incapable of denying you for even less. A plea of such magnitude rattles his bones and nearly strips him of all free-will, commanding his body to succumb to its base desires and seek fulfillment through finishing inside you. He relinquishes control and is punched by the pleasure that follows, hiding his face against your throat and fighting to keep his moan suppressed to an acceptable volume.

His warmth takes over you from the inside in spurts, twitching out of him at your deepest point as you settle against his base and further soak the dark curls around it with your arousal. You let him ride the high until he is empty and panting, and only then do you rise up and place a finger against your clit, circling it with a grind of your hips to enhance the pleasure that had been building in your core.

Yuuta watches in awe despite the sensitivity that spurs from your walls squeezing around his used cock, but he has never been more thrilled to be utilized. It doesn’t take long for you to come crashing down to join him in the orgasmic bliss that has you collapsing against his chest with a series of bone-chilling shivers, the satisfaction greater and more incomprehensible than you could’ve imagined.

The two of you are a heap of heavy breaths and quivering muscles, staring into each other’s eyes as the reality of the situation attempts to set in. As much as it should feel repulsive and regrettable, your actions nothing less than reprehensible, your greatest fear is the selfish one of hearing Yuuta say he doesn’t love you anymore. It would be most understandable after what you’ve done, but it frightens you nonetheless.

He struggles to catch his breath and confirm that this wasn’t just a figment of his dastardly imagination. “What—”

Yuuta doesn’t get the chance to stammer out a question before you cut him off with a kiss—a kiss that is so deep and desperate it screams your despair over it possibly being the final one.

You pull back and curl into his neck with murmured remorse. “I’m sorry, Yuuta. I’m sorry.”

His heart flutters with overwhelm but is ultimately on the brink of accepting that something within finally feels actualized. Will he be damned for submitting to it? Is it an insult to his being to so willingly yield after being explicitly taken without permission? Or was it necessary for him in order to reach this point all along?

Yuuta holds no animosity in his heart regardless of whether or not it is warranted. All he carries is a deep sense of love and appreciation.

Wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, he fully savors your closeness at last.

“Don’t be,” he says.

He’s just glad it isn’t a dream anymore.

[misshoneyimhome]

What's up buttercups!

So, we’re kicking off Sexy Christmas a little early this year—because why not? 🎄✨

And what better way to jump-start the holiday vibes than with the generous helping of Willy-deliciousness? ❤️‍🔥 Buckle up for a mix of holiday cheer, tension, and a whole lot of heat. I hope you enjoy this festive treat!

Happy (early) holidays and happy reading babes!

➼｡ﾟ

Naughty Under the Tree - William Nylander

OC unwraps an unexpected gift from her hockey player love interest—him, wearing only a strategically placed ribbon, waiting for her under the Christmas tree.

Tropes & Warnings: 18+ smut, William Nylander x reader oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v)

Word count: 2.2K

The quiet hum of Christmas jazz filled the room as the golden glow of the tree lights reflected off your dark red silk pyjamas. The set—a matching button-up top and shorts—had been a spontaneous indulgence for the holidays. It hugged your curves just enough to feel elegant but comfortable, perfect for a cosy evening spent unwrapping gifts.

And yet, the most important gift was still missing: your boyfriend.

You glanced at the clock and sighed, swirling the last bit of wine in your glass. William had been acting strange all day, sneaking off with a mischievous grin that made you suspicious. Now, you were alone on the couch, the festive atmosphere of the room only accentuating the absence of his usual playful energy.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the message.

William: Be ready in 5. Trust me. Close your eyes when I say so.

Your brow furrowed, but your lips curled into a smile. What was he up to this time? You placed your glass on the coffee table and leaned back into the sofa cushions, deciding to play along.

Moments later, you heard the door open. The familiar creak of his footsteps mixed with the faint rustle of bags. “You’re back,” you called out, your voice laced with curiosity.

“Stay there,” he replied, his tone teasing. “And close your eyes. No peeking.”

You sighed dramatically but obeyed, shutting your eyes and crossing your arms. “This better not involve glitter or reindeer antlers,” you teased.

He chuckled, the sound growing closer. “Just trust me.”

You heard the soft shuffle of movement near the Christmas tree, followed by the faint clink of ornaments shifting. The seconds stretched, and your anticipation built until finally, his voice broke through the silence.

“Okay,” he said, a smile audible in his tone. “Open your eyes.”

You blinked your eyes open—and gasped.

William lay sprawled out beneath the Christmas tree, the twinkling lights casting golden highlights across his toned body. He was entirely bare except for a single large red ribbon tied around his hips, the bow sitting precariously low on his waist. His golden hair was slightly tousled, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he rested his head on one hand, looking like a gift-wrapped fantasy come to life.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his grin boyish yet impossibly alluring.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you fought back laughter and heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh my God,” you breathed, unsure whether to scold him or climb on top of him. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, gesturing to himself. “I’m your present. Unwrap me.”

You shook your head, your laughter finally spilling out. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me for it,” he countered, his grin softening as he propped himself up slightly. His voice dropped to a lower, more serious tone. “You’ve been stressed lately. I just wanted to give you something… more special.”

Your smile softened, your heart melting at his words. You moved closer to him, kneeling by the edge of the tree. “You’re already the best gift,” you said, your fingers reaching out to trace the ribbon resting on his waist.

His breath hitched slightly at your touch, and you noticed his grin shift into something more serious. “Good,” he murmured, “because I’m all yours tonight.”

Your hand lingered on his bare skin, and the playful tension between you thickened into something deeper. He reached up, brushing his fingers along your cheek, and the gesture made your heart flutter. Slowly, he sat up, his face mere inches from yours, and leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss.

The kiss started soft, tender, but quickly deepened as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as his lips moved against yours, igniting a fire in your chest. Without thinking, you climbed onto his lap, your silky pyjamas brushing against his bare skin. His hands roamed over your thighs, pushing the hem of your shorts up slightly as he groaned into the kiss.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

You smiled into the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair as you pressed your body closer to his, feeling his hardness slowly growing. The ribbon slipped loose from his waist, falling to the side as your hands explored the hard planes of his chest, savouring the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

Breaking the kiss for just a moment, William rose effortlessly, lifting you in his arms as he carried you to the sofa. He set you down gently, hovering over you as the tree lights bathed you both in a soft, romantic glow.

“You’re overdressed,” he teased, his voice a low murmur as his fingers toyed with the buttons on your pyjama top.

“Are you going to do something about it?” you challenged, your tone breathless yet playful, a hint of anticipation lacing your words.

William’s lips curved into a smirk, his blue eyes darkening with desire. “Gladly.”

He didn’t need further encouragement. His hands moved deftly, undoing each button with deliberate, torturous slowness, as though savouring every moment of unveiling you. His lips never left your skin, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck, and across the delicate line of your collarbone. Each press of his lips sent tiny sparks dancing across your body, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

When he reached the last button, he paused, his fingers brushing over the open fabric of your top as the cool air whispered across your bare skin. A shiver coursed through you, though it had nothing to do with the temperature. The silky fabric slid off your shoulders with ease, pooling around your elbows. William’s gaze raked over you, his expression a mixture of awe and reverence.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as his hands traced the curves of your exposed body. His palms brushed over the soft swell of your breasts, down the curve of your waist, and along your hips, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.

His lips followed his hands, trailing featherlight kisses across your collarbone, down the centre of your chest, and along the soft curves that rose and fell with each unsteady breath. The deliberate slowness of his movements was intoxicating, his attention making you feel like you were the centre of his universe.

His kisses deepened, growing more urgent as he slid the waistband of your pyjama shorts down your hips, revealing bright red lace beneath. He paused, his lips hovering above your exposed skin, his breath hot against your thighs as his hands roamed over your body.

“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his voice low and filled with want.

Your hands found their way into his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you tugged him closer. “Good,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm.

He smirked against your skin before his lips found yours again, fiery and consuming, his kiss a perfect blend of tenderness and raw passion. His hands slipped under the lace, his fingers brushing against your sensitive core, drawing a gasp from your lips. He teased you with light strokes, circling your clit with just the right pressure before slipping a finger inside you, his touch both gentle and confident.

“William,” you breathed his name, your voice a plea and a prayer all at once.

He watched your face as he worked his magic, adding another finger to stretch you gently, curling and pumping them in a rhythm that made your breath hitch with every movement. His thumb pressed against your clit, coaxing soft whimpers from you as your hips instinctively rocked against his hand.

“I could make you come just like this,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride and affection, his gaze locked on yours. “But not tonight. Tonight, I want to feel every part of you.”

Before you could respond, he shifted lower, his hands gripping your thighs as he knelt between them. He pressed his mouth against your core, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles that made you arch against him. His fingers continued their slow rhythm inside you, complementing the movements of his mouth in a way that left you utterly undone.

“William,” you gasped, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you as your body tightened with pleasure.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat through you. His mouth was relentless, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to push you closer and closer to the edge.

And when the climax hit, it was nothing but overwhelming, your body trembling as a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you. Your moans filled the room, your fingers tightening in his hair as he held you steady, his movements slowing as he guided you through the aftermath.

He rose to meet you, his lips brushing against yours, tasting like the very essence of you. William laid you back on the sofa, his body fitting perfectly against yours. The feel of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating, the warmth of him grounding you as the firelight cast flickering shadows across his face.

“I need you,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing as he positioned himself above you.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders as he aligned himself with you.

He entered you slowly, his movements deliberate and careful, savouring every second as he filled you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, the sensation almost overwhelming. The connection between you was more profound than words could capture—like two halves of the same whole finding their place.

William’s eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense and filled with emotion as he began to move, each thrust measured and unhurried. The way his body fit perfectly with yours was exquisite, his movements deliberate yet deeply passionate, a rhythm that felt both instinctive and consuming.

Each time he pushed deeper, his length stretched and massaged your inner walls in a way that had you trembling beneath him. The slight curve of his hips allowed him to hit spots that made you cry out softly, your fingers clawing at his back as waves of pleasure built inside you.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against your ear, his voice strained yet tender as he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. His breath was hot, his words sending shivers down your spine as your bodies moved together, perfectly in sync.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, marking him as your moans grew louder, more desperate. His name fell from your lips like a mantra, each syllable a plea for more. Meanwhile, William’s control was slipping. His fists clenched the cushions on either side of you, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold himself back, wanting to draw out the moment. But the way your body responded to him—the way your walls clenched tightly around his cock, pulling him deeper—made it nearly impossible to resist.

“Fuck baby, I can’t hold it,” he groaned, his voice husky as his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a visible battle between holding on and giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

The heat between you intensified, your breaths mingling as you pushed each other closer and closer to the edge. The friction, the closeness, the way every part of him seemed to align perfectly with you—it was all-consuming. Every thrust, every moan, every whispered word of encouragement sent you both spiralling higher, the world around you blurring until there was only him, only this.

And as he continued to push harder and faster, you cried out as your climax hit, your body arching against his as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your walls clenched tightly around him again, and the sensation pulled him into his own release. His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper just as his hips jerked, his own groan filling the room as he buried himself deep inside you, spilling into you as his body trembled with the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, trembling from the aftershocks. William lowered himself carefully, his weight warm and grounding as he pressed a series of soft kisses to your shoulder, then your collarbone, before finally burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His arms wrapped around you protectively, pulling you close as his breathing began to slow, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured, “You’re amazing.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the muscles of his back. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased softly, though your voice was still thick with affection.

He chuckled, the sound low and content as he shifted just enough to meet your eyes. His blue gaze was softer now, filled with something deeper than lust—a warmth and adoration that made your heart swell.

As the two of you lay tangled together on the sofa, the flickering light of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over your bodies, you couldn’t help but feel like this was the perfect gift. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment except the man holding you as if you were his entire world.

[rhiannonsknife]

You mention vibrator play with (I think coworker!)rhiannon and oh my christ I'm such a sucker for that sort of thing- could we get an expansion on that please?? Tysm!! As per usual your writing continues to be phenomenally incredible please know that you're doing (sapphic) god's work ❤️❤️

-🔆

thank you so much 🔆 anon!! <3 nsfw content below. mdni.

now to vibrator play with (coworker!) rhiannon! there are so many different ways that this could go so let me elaborate…

coworker!rhiannon who’s also your girlfriend and who loves to watch you struggle from across the room...in the morning, while you're getting ready for work together, she’ll bring the idea up to you: you’re zipping up your pants when she wraps her arms around you from behind. rhiannon’s lips press against the back of your neck playfully but that’s not what catches your attention: what does is the cold feeling of something pressing against your bare stomach. before you can ask what it is, she already turned on the little bullet vibrator. “what do you think?” rhiannon murmurs against your skin from behind as she runs it up your body, letting you feel the vibrations on the lowest setting. she doesn’t have to explain herself; she’s brought the idea up enough times for you to understand what she’s planning.

coworker!rhiannon who stuffs it into your underwear once you’ve given her your consent and have come up with a safe word/signal in case she ever pushes you a bit too far. coworker!rhiannon who starts off tame enough. who, at first, only switches it on from her desk when you expect it: while holding eye contact beforehand or even as she’s standing right next to you. “how’s work going?” she’ll ask, and put a hand on your shoulder. yet when you’re about to answer, she flips a switch on the remote in her pocket, and allthe words you were about to say morph into a surprised gasp as you press your thighs together.

coworker!rhiannon who gets the hang of it after a while. once she’s figured out the different settings and how you react to them (which one makes you squirm the hardest in your chair or has you glancing in her direction desperately), there’s no stopping her: she’ll put on the lowest vibration during the entirety of a conference -not enough to make you cum, but just enough for you to be toeing the edge the whole time. or she’ll turn it up suddenly when you’re least expecting it; when you're about to get up for your break, forcing you to sit back down suddenly. she’ll watch you as you get closer and closer on the highest setting, white knuckle gripping the edge of your table, then turn it off at the last second...

coworker!rhiannon who catches you trying to sneak into the bathroom to get off while she’s refilling her coffee. who walks in on you attempting to touch yourself in there. who takes the vibe from you and presses it against your clit on the highest possible setting and keeps it there through multiple orgasms, until you’re shaking from overstimulation and need to hold onto her for support, biting down on your hand/her shoulder so that you won’t scream through the entire office floor.

but also…

rhiannon who ties you up on her bed (or the garage if she’s in a bit of a role-play mood…) and holds the vibrator against you until you’re a babbling mess, begging her to take it off or turn it down. if you really wanted her to stop, one use of the safe word would be enough. yet, you don’t. you want to be at her mercy, you want rhiannon to have her way with you until she decides that it’s enough.

or, alternatively: rhiannon who ties the vibe against your thigh and then leaves you there, with the toy buzzing weakly against your clit. she’ll go down into the living room to do whatever chore still needs to be done, or she will go out on one of her killing sprees. like this, she has something to look forward to when she stumbles back inside a long while later: covered in blood, she enters the house, instantly greeted by the sound of your desperate whines echoing from the bedroom…

[r-a-i-n-y-d-a-z-e]

Here's a little AU Harvey Dent where he's GCPD SWAT instead of Gotham City's district attorney. 😏

[wildsaltair]

@nihillist-blog I am still losing my mind over this screencap you got. I zoomed it in because I’m so obsessed with it. I am eternally grateful to you

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

lonan and harrison fanfic where all they do is watch movies & throw popcorn at each other

[swordmaid]

I was reading this drow dnd handbook last night and this line made me cackle

just imagining shri’iia in astarion’s confession scene internally being like

[truly-morgan]

So I may or may not have binged Death By Dying and really enjoyed it. It's exactly the kind of vibe I love, crazy shit happening in a town where crazy shit is just, well, the usual. Same for Welcome To Night Vale (although I need to restart that one since I haven't listened to it in a while and had stopped far into the episodes).

Would anyone have any podcast with similar vibes to this one? I took notes from a couple of titles already, but am open to more suggestions in case maybe I don't get as hooked on those other ones.

-Where The Star Fell -I Am In Eskew -Neighbourly -Mayfair Watchers Society

also, due to the crossover with dbd I found that the SCP Archive could be interesting, but imma have to see how it looks.

Anyway, if anyone has suggestions with other podcasts that are similarly vibed as those, where the crazy and weirdness is just normal. Or something with some comedy horror. Am in a bit of a writing binge, but podcasts make for a great background when I draw and do other things.

[bungusofficial]

mutual how are you so good at getting into arguments with people who agree with you

probably bc i only respond to people who cant write or read

"rape play can be consented to" and "rape can be consented to" are VERY different sentences. n like honestly i shouldnt even have bothered.

if you have such a fundamental misunderstanding of the english language i wont waste my time trying to communicate with you. when every word means something different its not really english anymore is it. if everything u say is so divorced from the english language that i need to ask you to repeat and translate everything i dont think im at fault here

i might just cut contact w anyone in the community because everything i say is misunderstood and misrepresented and not taken seriously if im not sucking up to people.

and so many words have new double-meanings and im led to think i disagree with ppl because theyre fucking incapable of writing a coherent sentence. and then its my fault somehow.

and its not like 'transid' or paraphilia dont exist outside of the radqueer community. everyone wants to change things about themselves. everyone changes. people are into weird shit and have mental disorders. i dont have a problem with peoples experiences.

n if rqs put any effort into what they say (or even didnt blame me for assuming that a word doesnt have any new secret meaning) id treat it the same as the mogai or liom community. whatever. kinda fun. sometimes theres a relatable label

.delete later

[punkcherries]

sonic prime so cool ............

[girlscience]

the past few weeks I've been feeling basically zero dysphoria and yet the amount I was thinking about my body didn't decrease even slightly