#bloodwarm

[taylorbyas1]

One of my favorite poems (if not THEE favorite poem) from my first chapbook bby, BLOODWARM ❤️

[rhaegang]

So, this is going anonymous because I'm a pussy. But I have a very huge size difference kink, I don't know, I love it, and Cattonquick makes it even worse, but something I haven't seen much in fics is exploring Oliver with a size kink. AUHGGG IT'S JUST, Félix is a giant, Oliver looks so tiny next to him, just his hands are huge, now imagine the size of his cock. Idk, it bothers me to think about that and not see people doing something with it

Sorry, I'm cringe

I do think this features in most cattonquick stories. Their size difference is such a main aspect of the pairing!

But as far as it being like, THE central focus of a fic or a scene in one, I don’t know of many. So…

It’s fun to imagine what Oliver is daydreaming about all those times he’s staring at Felix. Longing for Felix. Thinking of Felix (forever thinking of Felix).

So let’s imagine, Oliver is staring at Felix. He’s inching up every last inch of Felix with his eyes. And there are so many. His arms and legs go for miles. His chest and back are broad, even if he’s a bit bony and slim. His neck is long. His fingers are too. His hands — on the fretboard of the guitar, or holding a plastic cup and a beer bottle together in just one hand, or resting on Oliver’s knee and completely covering it — damn. Felix has such big hands.

Oliver absolutely would think about Felix’s hands and consider, okay. Proportionately, that means his cock has to be…

He takes the bus to Reading, which has the closest adult shop outside of Oxford. He has, folded in his pocket, an outline he made of Felix’s hand on a piece of notebook paper by tracing it while Felix slept.

He becomes someone new when he goes into the shop, someone who has no shame, someone who does shit like this all the time. Oliver becomes this someone because that’s the only way he’s going to get what he wants.

He asks one of the shop clerks, “what have you got that’s big enough this hand would barely fit around it?”

The clerk doesn’t give a fuck that it’s a strange question. She’s heard far stranger. And since this guy looks harmless (he’s barely bigger than herself, which, aw) she plays along.

“Did you want something that takes batteries, darling?”

She opens boxes for Oliver so he can feel each one. The weight, the length, the almost anxiety-inducing girth of some of them. The one he chooses is as realistic looking as the come. In fact, it’s apparently molded from a real man’s cock; the little racy blurb on the back of the box has a few sentences about him, including his height and how much he bench presses.

The front of the box doesn’t have sentences. It’s just one word: goliath.

It costs a fortune, wiping out Oliver’s pocket money so he’s actually as broke as he’s been pretending to be, at least for the next two weeks.

Oliver is half hard in his trousers the entire bus ride back to Oxford, clutching his backpack with its passenger on his lap to hide it.

The curtains get closed, the door locked; and fuck it, Oliver sticks his chair under the doorknob for good measure, too. He can’t take any chances. He needs to focus.

There’s a few less than sexy steps between barricading the door and when Oliver finally hovers over the massive silicone cock he’s got stuck to the centuries-old hardwood floor, but they’re done and now he’s here.

He’s here, and he’s going to fit this massive thing inside him (and imagine that it’s bloodwarm, imagine that it’s pulsing, imagine that it’s Felix that he’s straddling because if they did missionary, Felix might crush him—) even if it fucking kills him.

It winds up taking Oliver a lot more work to take the whole thing than he expected. It’s hours later, and he’s sore and swollen and overstimulated, but he gets there in the end. His thighs burn from all the careful squatting and shifting, and when he finally can get down near the base of it, his legs give. It drops him a bit harder down onto Felix, rams Felix’s dick up into his guts in a way that makes him hiccup.

“So big.” It’s a whimper. “God, Felix.”

His hole feels so stretched he worries it’ll never go back to normal. But then, for Felix, Oliver doesn’t care if he has to be broken. He doesn’t care if he’ll feel loose to anyone else, anyone smaller. Oliver knows anyone less than Felix would never satisfy him in any way, so, no. He doesn’t care if he becomes a sloppy, fucked out, loose-holed little slut from how much Felix uses him.

Curious, Oliver presses his fingers against his belly until he thinks he can feel the head. There. He looks down. He flails an arm for his backpack, drags it closer with desperate fingers because he can’t shuffle closer to it to grab the strap properly. He’s fucking impaled where he sits, Felix filling him up and nailing him down.

He uncaps a permanent marker and draws a line on his stomach where the head must be. Permanent marker isn’t permanent enough though. It’ll wash eventually. Maybe he’ll have it tattooed, he thinks.

Yeah. He’ll get a line branded in ink on his skin, a straight line with a few hashmarks, sort of like on a ruler. But more like an F.

He wants to see it every time he looks down at himself. He wants to look at it and think, look how far inside me Felix goes. Look how much of me he fills up.

Felix fills all of Oliver, really. All of his thoughts. All of his dreams. All of his heart. It’s only fitting that he’d be big enough to fill Oliver’s body beyond reason, beyond comfort, the same way he fills up the rest of him.

And when the day comes that Oliver can do this for real, can get Felix’s fucking massive hands holding him down while he fills him up, Oliver will be ready. He won’t have to pant and struggle and bleed and curse, because his body will have already made room for every fucking inch of the man, will have reformed to hold him perfectly, cling to him like a fitted glove.

For now, Oliver can barely rock himself on Felix, just a little careful rolling of his hips, but even that pulverizes his prostate and leaves his cock dribbling precum in semi-clear, stretchy drips. He folds over, bracing himself on his elbows, and works his hips until he’s close to bouncing, until he punches his own orgasm out of himself with Felix buried as far as he can go.

Oliver passes out like that, his puffy hole twitching around Felix like it would pull him in deeper, were there more of him to take.

Which — Oliver hasn’t actually seen Felix’s dick while it’s hard.

What if this goliath isn’t big enough, after all?

[yabagofmilfs]

Simby

Eat up, simby frobby.

S - sing each song twice over by uraneia | 31k | rated E

After he retires, Sid disappears to Canada for two years and doesn't surface again until he announces the surprise release of his tell-all autobiography. Geno, fresh off his own retirement, doesn't understand why everyone keeps asking him if he knew--knew what? I really love the idea that a) Sid would disappear completely after retiring but also be compelled to finally tell his story in his own words, and b) that his own words would still be so vague that even those closest to him would have to read between the lines to understand. Warning for death of a beloved dog, fyi.

I - is anyone else seeing this? by smartpeach3 | 1k | rated T

When Geno joins the pens, he can't believe that no one else notices that sweet little omega Sidney is playing all of them.

M - much aching by titties | 3k | rated E

Geno really, really likes Sid's mustache.

B - bloodwarm by beggingwolf | 1k | rated T

When you're a selkie and your furnace of a boyfriend finds your pelt. Very cute!

Y - you by my side by twentysomething | 12k | rated E

Nobody touches Sidney, but Geno doesn't know that. Really love the slow-dawning realization everyone--including Sidney--goes through when they start to recognize that Sid doesn't flinch because he doesn't like to be touched, but because he's not used to it.

[visualheresy]

WIP Wednesday

Rules: post the last seven lines of whatever you wrote and tag seven people.

i saw @frozen-fountain’s post and felt inspired to share a little piece of what i’m working on as well. here is a first draft intro of a fic inspired by this artwork.

Hawks spinning in the sky’s blank page. She watches them, rapt, hair embedded in the frost like the beginnings of new script, snow on her lashes. She blinks. Last night they read to each other from a book on the taxonomy of flowers. They slept under a blanket printed with cranes to match the curtains bought from her recent drive into Saranac Lake. If she closes her eyes, she gets up, walks backward in time, into another hour where he is still bloodwarm and close, where he pulls on his running shoes to stretch in the foyer, where she says stop. Not yet. The hawks’ slashed-ink wings retrace the same dizzying loops for please-not-yet and who-knows-how-much-longer. She knows this now, how it’s possible to live inside two worlds at once.

as it turned out, i got stuck at this point and switched over to WIP #2. i don’t have a snippet for this one. it’s a more hopeful fic that explores Ada’s trauma (post-RE6) and the aftermath of a psychological breakdown as she and Leon give their relationship One Last Try—i swear it becomes hopeful! it’s also about gardening and art making and other things!

if you’re a writer and you see this, i’m tagging you.

[strangersinstrangelands]

Up in the dead of night, catching up on overdue edits. A slight buzz in my head from anxiety and caffeine. I'll need to stay up and work through the night, morning, and afternoon until a meeting at 4 pm and then I can crash.

I can tell I am in a Deep Depression Pit not just because of the usual anguishes and cessation of activities but also because I am experiencing pervasive boredom that is completely unshakeable. I feel bad for my partner and friends who can tell that I am exuding huge -____- energy when they're trying to engage with me. I even just got a (signed!) copy of Taylor Byas's chapbook, Bloodwarm, but I've barely cracked it open. Treading the flat plane of survival. At around 3 am every night, someone in my building goes through at least a six-pack of beers and throws the cans into the courtyard. I feel spiritually connected to them, all waste and despair and carelessness. In falsified solidarity, I'm cracking open a...yeo's soymilk. It's the best I can do.

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Metal House of Cards by Amanda Maret Scharf and Hannah Smith

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/metal-house-of-cards-by-amanda-maret-scharf-and-hannah-smith/

Metal House of Cards explores the interconnections between place, #relationships, and the environment. These collaborative #poems weave together two voices to tell a single story about #queer #love. In the wake of a lost relationship, the speaker recounts memories, weighing the costs and possibilities of seeing and being seen. This chapbook was written during a midwestern power outage, and its poems speak to the electric nature of collaboration and surprise. #pridemonth

Amanda Maret Scharf is a poet from Los Angeles. Her poems have been published in Pleiades, Poetry Northwest, The Iowa Review, and elsewhere. She is the co-founder of small press and artist collaboration, mixedgreens. During her MFA at Ohio State, she served as Poetry Editor for The Journal.

Hannah Smith is a writer living in Dallas, Texas. She received an MFA in poetry at the Ohio State University, where she served as the Managing Editor of The Journal. Her poems have been published in Gulf Coast, Ninth Letter, Mississippi Review, and elsewhere.

PRAISE FOR Metal House of Cards by Amanda Maret Scharf and Hannah Smith

In the beautiful collaborative chapbook, Metal House of Cards, Amanda Maret Scharf and Hannah Smith explore place, queer love, and the art of seamless intertwining of two distinct voices. Written through a Midwestern power outage during a scorching summer, these poems wonderfully weave together environment, relationships, and self—comfortably moving from the past to present with lines like “In college, / I was told patience was a virtue, but I kept looking / for a different kind of goodness” to “I live below sea level and pretend / I’m ok.” These poems become snapshots speaking to each other with energy, yet also playfulness. Witnessing two voices come together so flawlessly, leaves us as readers with stunning poems where Scharf and Smith gracefully blur into one another through their words, lines, and imagery. This book reminds of the importance of collaboration—it was a joy to read!

–Kelli Russell Agodon, author of Dialogues with Rising Tides (Copper Canyon Press)

When I read this book, I was constantly reminded of those model towns built on nuclear test sites—those strange smiling dolls and their picture-perfect homes, moments before disaster. The poems in Amanda Maret Scharf and Hannah Smith’s Metal House of Cards are of the same universe, each of them beginning with familiar portraits of life before lifting the lid on a darkness lurking beneath. Scharf and Smith wrangle with the experience of being human, of the complex emotional landscape that comes with loving and losing. And this book beckons us to witness, tells us to “make me / throw something sharp while [we] watch.”

–Taylor Byas, author of I Done Clicked My Heels Three Times (Soft Skull Press) and Bloodwarm (Variant Literature)

In this mesmerizing collaborative chapbook, desire and grief are synesthetic and spatial. A gaze becomes a violin, body a bouquet, words held to the light. Together, Scharf & Smith weave a voice at once vast and singular, shedding inherited narratives and cataloguing “the long burning / of before” with gorgeous fervor. These poems dream of big love—the kind that refuses any script, returns “color to the throat,” makes us endless.

–Patrycja Humienik, author of Anchor Baby (Tin House, 2025)

Set in a blackout during a heatwave, Metal House of Cards opens in the first-person plural and splinters off into an epistolary exchange, into a duet of anticipation and restlessness. Amanda Maret Scharf and Hannah Smith’s poems are perpetually in motion, churning forward while looking backward, existing in the space between waiting for something to begin and “zoom[ing] in on everything I might miss.” Compressed, associative, lucid, both fractured and eloquent, Metal House of Cards is a literary pas de deux to the generative power of friendship.

–Jacques J. Rancourt, author of Brocken Spectre (Alice James Books) and Novena (Pleiades Press)

Please share/please repost

#flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems #queer #love #LBGTQ+ #pride #pridemonth

[ao3feed-hockey]

Bloodwarm

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/SZFjkTa

by beggingwolf

Sid's pelt goes missing right around noon.

Words: 1374, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Men's Hockey RPF

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sidney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin

Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Additional Tags: Selkies, Fabric Play (barely), Kinkuary 2023, Selkie Sid

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/SZFjkTa

[sentencemaven]

1031 Literary

When he didn’t push the bucatini off her fork, she ate in sloppy mouthfuls.

The hum of collective humanity hard to deny.

Voices vibrating  

A word added, a phrase, a whisper, chuckle, sigh

Until all is lost.

Breathless breathing throb

Dinning in all their places

Lifting, dropping

To whatever music the bartender plays: 

an awkward accompaniment. 

Enveloped

Among but detached

Listening but not heard

Distractions now so easy to attend:

The woman (maybe not so) alone, skin reflecting glow

Of the phone she slowly scrolls.

Another sits with sisters who steal her brussel sprouts

But share her secrets.

Another is so close to her bloodwarm mirror who smiles, gazes, reflects intonations and nuances

Matching, white to pale.

Another doesn't hide.

Her neck exposed often when she throws her head back

To laugh at the moon

She knows is there 

Beyond the well-placed prints, leather seats, designer lights,  tin ceiling, roof, city, world. 

Then she leans in against his slumped shoulder, her fight for pasta satiated and asks:

Did you see her, too?

[vincentcatagainsttheworld]

#Repost @adelleleonce IG stories 😊❤ #ADiscoveryOfWitchesS2 #allsoulstrilogy #shadowofnight #vampires #bloodwarm #marcuswithmore #phoebetaylor #edwardbluemel #adelleleonce https://www.instagram.com/p/CKoz3KNlKEq/?igshid=1ay1gr0lro4ph

[tsunflowers]

apparently in the 1800s they didn't say lukewarm they said "bloodwarm" and the little house cookbook used that every time and I was like. I hate this

[taylorbyas1]

Have the last batch of copies of my debut poetry collection for sale! If you want a signed copy of BLOODWARM, reply or send me a message! ($15, which includes shipping!)

[handweavers]

i love the term 'bloodwarm' as an alternative to saying lukewarm, it's more representative of what's being expressed and more importantly sounds incredibly sexy

[a-cartoon-lover]

View Of The World where my ocs lives

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / @misfortune-life-will-change

Art For Friends

Friends as GF and BF in FNF -Friday Night Funkin'- extra

OC drawings

Spencer the Object Angel Head

Wyatt the Spider Gangster

Puppeteer and Gangster [art style challenge -Panty and Stocking-]

Takumi Agano the Curse Spirit -Kodoku, Curse Poison-

Pauline the Ghost

Shay Spinnet the Green Spinel

Phoebe the Spider -Wander Over Yonder OC-

Stella Ward the Security Guard ＆ Emma the Explainer of Galaxy -FNAF OCs-

Cercis the Inkling -Splatoon OC, Splasona-/Rosea Alcea the Inkling -Splatoon OC Redesign

Hanahaki disease / Morning Glory(Red), Pansy / -Elicia Kelly, the alicorn-

Blair the Devil -Cuphead OC-

The Photograph -Eddsworld OC-

Mer the Marmaid/The Witch of Deepest Sea

Meril the Marmaid -Sibling of The Witch of Deepest Sea-

Victor/Viola -Vivy- the Comic Comedian -Demon OC-

Nobody -Kirby series S/I OC / Persona-

Sol 'n' Luna -The Witches of the Sun and Moon-

Brunetta -Made in Abyss OC-

The OCs: Heidi the Spirit of Love/Garret the Boogieman/Stella the Witch of Stars

Cher Jenner -Codename: Kids Next Door OC-

Alvin "AL" Attwood / The Nightmare Alvin always watch / Friday Night Funkin' Variant Challenge feat. Alvin / Just an Nightmare, or not?

Giovanna Gore the Millipede

Dominic Gore the Doppleganger

Mayuhito Hisashi the Exosist

Khloe Misfortune’s Character Sheet

Some Fish-man OCs -Dina Lauper/Trinity Scringenar/Chelsea Spoury

“Wanted” -Charles/Charlie Morales’ Wanted paper-

Rainy Day -Khloe Misfortune-

A Gif I made -Ritsu the DemonSpider/Benio the BloodWarm-

Aya the DemonSpider

Dragon OCs -Petra the Witch of Weather/Karen\紅炎 the Flame Manipulator/Mateus the Waybern

Leah the Butterfly

Headcanons

Spamton after met with Puppeteer -deltarune canon x oc-

Swatch after met with Spider gangster -deltaswap canon x oc-

deltaswap Swatch design idea

Digimon Puppetmon/Pinochimon Humanization

Canon x OC

"Do not bullying him" -Spamton from deltarune x Spencer the Object Angel Head- Meme Drawing

"LOOK SPENCER I AM FLYING!!!" -Spamton x Spencer-

"What you gonna do for Christmas?" -Spamton x Spencer-

"Hand Heart" -Spamton x Spencer-

"Talking on the free day" -Spamton x Spencer-

"the first met" -Eduardo from Eddsworld x Elicia Kelly-

"I like your clothes, Butler" -Mer the Marmaid but they wear the butler suits-

“Happy Birth Day!” -Zeo from One Piece x Andrea the Jelly-Fish Fish-man

An announcement:

-None, but send me some drawing asks please?-

[transhawks]

Short Gen Hawks-centric Fic List!

Since it’s asked for, here is a very short list of fics I really enjoy that are far less shippy. However, some of these do still focus on relationships, just platonic ones.

Ghost on Watch by Candletender_Yena (SFW)

Really recommend this if you’re into moral quandaries and Twice. This is a fic exploring Twice and Hawks’s relationship, and going deep into the moral differences between then. Featuring a ghost!Twice, an evil!HPSC, and an ending that made me sob for an hour. 

Hero’s Heart series by @ronanvespertine ESPECIALLY

Hawks: The Imposter Who Calls Himself a Hero (SFW)

Probably one of the best takes on Hawks’s inner thoughts about his mission I’ve seen. Ronan has a really good gift for character studies and I really recommend also giving their Tokoyami and Hawks mentorship-based fics a chance too. Seriously, I love this interpretation of Hawks. 

Re-Orientation by @bloodwarmed 

Written by someone I consider a dear friend, and additionally, probably the first militarized take on Hawks in fic in this fandom. This was written way back in 2018, right after 199, and I remember reading this and not being convinced Hawks would have such an institutionalized upbringing, even if I liked it in fic. Years later, it was worse than we imagined and I’m a 🤡 . Anyway, the Tokoyami-Hawks relationship is fantastic in this, please give it a read. 

Hawks-Sensei by GC4life

Probably the most well-known of Hawks-centric gen fics, but I experience a profound wave of nostalgia when I read this fic. It reminds me of all the excellent character-centric canon divergent fics that I read and tried to write back in the Naruto fandom. This fic has a fun, less angsty take on Hawks and I just appreciate Hawks interacting with a whole cast of characters. 

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Little Hiroshimas by Kip Knott

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/little-hiroshimas-by-kip-knott/

Kip Knott is a writer, teacher, photographer, and part-time art dealer living in Delaware, Ohio. His writing and photography have appeared in Barren, Beloit Fiction Journal, Emrys Journal, The Gettysburg Review, Poet Lore, The Sun, and Virginia Quarterly Review. He is the author seven previous #poetry chapbooks, a full-length collection of short stories, and three full-length collections of poetry, the most recent being The Other Side of Who I Am (Kelsay Books, 2023). To read more of his work, go to www.kipknott.com.

PRAISE FOR Little Hiroshimas by Kip Knott

I am always amazed when I step into a museum and every wall becomes, at once, a window and a mirror. Really, that’s the gift all art provides—to show us the world and to show us ourselves IN the world in the same instance. That’s precisely the gift of Kip Knott’s new ekphrastic collection, Little Hiroshimas. Page by page, these poems demolish and rebuild, wreck and heal, with color and song and memory. More than all that, they stand in front of this world, full of paintings and pain, and help us blink, line after line, until we can “pull something / tangible out from the dark.”

–Jack B. Bedell, author of Against the Woods’ Dark Trunks, Poet Laureate of Louisiana, 2017-2019

Kip Knott’s Little Hiroshimas is an ode to ekphrasis and proof that poetry can reanimate and recontextualize the visual arts. In the opening poem, Knott writes “Every artist destroys / one thing to create another,” and this chapbook puts this theory into practice. Each poem in this collection takes a knife to a canvas, slits it open to find the untold story hidden inside. Knott is a champion of art’s expansiveness and fluidity, how each interaction with a piece of art is also an opportunity for dialogue, for witnessing, for transformation.

–Taylor Byas, author of Bloodwarm and I Done Clicked My Heels Three Times

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems