#well this has been a shitpost thank you for your attention

[azaracyy]

love is hell

[monimccoythings]

Tiny and cute!

Here I come with a new one! Thanks to all the shitposts that give me life and inspiration to write this! I think this might be the last one I write of this series for now, because I’m literally out of ideas lol. But it has been really really fun. I really enjoyed it. But don’t worry, I’ll keep posting if I get more ideas.

Ayyy lmao when I get a better quality of the angery boi in a pickle jar I update it. This contains spoilers!!! If you haven’t watched the movie yet, go and watch it now! It’s worth it!

Previous parts: 1 and 2

Next parts: 4 and 5

tags: @loveforfandomsstuff @harpy-space​

After so many tiring weeks working your ass off for the minimum wage, you finally got a very well deserved vacation. Which you were totally planning to spend with your friends and your little pal.

He was such a grumpy pants, he cussed you whenever you came close, but deep down inside his little black heart you knew he craved the attention. If only he didn’t try to bite your fingers with his hampter teef.

So, you, Peach, Mario, Luigi and Toad set off on a journey to the Kong Kingdom, a tropical paradise, for a week of unashamedly lazing off. Since nobody trusted Bowser to be left on his own without causing a ruckus (throwing the piano over and over again against the bars of the cage), you so kindly offered to bring him along in a pet carrier. Oh he was big mad now.

Didn’t help that you kept feeding him apple slices through the bars saying “does the Big Boy want his appy slices?” and it certainly didn’t help either that the Big Boy really wanted his appy slices. To make up for the embarrasment, maybe you’d let him take a sip of your Caipiranha plant cocktail.

The Kong Kingdom was something you wouldn’t have even imagined in a thousand years, and you came from the Mushroom Kingdom. Throw tropical paradise, with Aztec aesthetic and Nash Car in a blender, mix it, and that’s what you get.

One of the Kongs kindly took you all to your huts and very wisely ignored all the Traffic regulations and laws of safe driving, which moved you so much, you spent the entire journey with tears in your eyes and your mouth open in a never ending scream of pure terror.  Yeah, next time you were walking.

One of the most peculiar traditions of the Kongs that you experienced there was some kind of tournament in a stage that was literally floating on air. You had to say it was a bit awkward when the kinda handsome? and cocky prince of the Kongs invited you all over to ‘smash’. Oh well, it would be way too difficult and weird to explain it to them anyways, and quoting Mario, ‘that was a pipe that wasn’t worth exploring’.

The tournament was like watching a real gladiator battle, but the gladiators had superpowers, and they were monkeys. Of course DK won, since, until Mario, he was the undefeated champion. He was a show off, you were truly impressed and cheering for him. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. And a loud thump was heard from inside the carrier. Awww, potato man didn’t want anybody else catching your attention. That was so sweet of him, actually.

The truth was, that despite this being a bit of a holiday, the real reason you all were there was because the turtle had to answer for his crimes against the Kong Kingdom. Godzilla v. Kong. It was jury duty for your friends, yaaayy.

Apparently Bowser didn’t get the memo. He was absolutely angery, screaming, raging, fighting. There was no way to handle him. To try an coerce him out of the carrier and into a proper cage was a task no Kong was patient enough to endure.

Would have it been easier to handle if he had remained in his temporary enclosure? Yeah, it would, but Kongs were monkeys with deeply rooted traditions, and if the teeny mutant ninja toitle had to be in a cage on the witness stand, then he would be in it, conscious or not. Looks like they had very little regard for the rules of the courtroom, but he had tried to kill them, so they were even.

Nobody took into account the possibility that he would manage to break free and make a run for the entrance. Tbh, it was kinda sad to watch him give the effort of his life trying to get to a door that was like ten feet away from where you all were. Still, no Kong was able to lay a hand on him, given how slow he was and how eager he seemed in getting hit, it was as if they were avoiding him on purpose. Peach would later explain you that given the nature of the power up, if he got hit in any way the mushroom would loose its effect and would turn him back to his original size, which was a big nope.

While the jury was debating wheter let him enjoy what little freedom he would have before he was tricked back into the pet carrier or just pick him and finish it, you had a moment of enlightment. That was it, the moment you had been waiting for for the last months, what you had unconsciously been training for your entire life. This was your moment to shine, your moment to be the hero, your moment to-

“Look at you so tiny and cute!” You gushed, picking him up, mindful of the spikes in his shell. He wiggled, trying to be set free and demanding you to put him down that instant or throw him as hard as you could against the wall. But the only thing you wanted to do was...

* smooch * You kissed the tip of his nose. You had been wanting to boop it since day one, and its scales were as soft as you had imagined. Your life dream had been achieved.

Bowser went very still in your hold. His eyes were wide and his pupils had shrunk with shock. The Kongs looked horrified at you so casually holding a narcissistic and psychotic tyrant like a pet, Peach was awkardly smiling at the eldest Kong, Cranky, while Mario and DK were trying as hard as they could to not burst out laughing. Luigi quietly snapped a pic and quickly hid the phone in his overalls, when the guards shot him dirty looks.

It were a couple of uncomfortable minutes that felt like years for all of you, until someone decided to clear their throat, snapping all out of their stupor. Bowser was still frozen so putting him inside the cage was easy. And so, the trial went on without any more disturbances. Whetever the sentence was, he didn’t hear it, nor did he care. Because his mind was occupied by something else. The kiss.

BONUS SCENE

You didn’t know how it had all started but suddenly there was a loud explosion and the entire castle was on flames. Tumbling, you made your way through a bunch of screaming toads towards the source of the blast. Because you perfectly knew where it had started.

The thick smoke made your eyes watery and you blinked several times, trying to clear your vision through the tears. You coughed several times, your lungs ached and you felt like you were going to pass out at any given moment. But you had to keep going fowards, make sure everyone got out safe. And by everyone you meant every single one of the creatures inhabiting this castle.

Finally, you reached the giantic doors. Exhausted, you tripped and desperately clinged onto the golden knobs, burnng your palms in the process due to the overheated metal. Thankfully, your weight was enough to pull the doorknob and push the door open.

You fell against the cracked marble floor, the only things in front of you were the dark columns of smoke that clouded your vision and the burning roar of the flames in your ears. Until, you saw it.

A gigantic dark shadow with glowing red eyes pulled out from the darkest of nightmarish Hells. The eyes burned with a flaming passion and seemed to be piercing your soul. For the first time in a long time, you felt true fear running through your veins. Still, you were too stunned to move.

A low rumble came out of that disturbing sight. It started to approach you, with every step it took the ground shook, and the less time you had to make a run for it. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought that were you brave enough to run, this monster would catch you in a matter of seconds despite its size.

A sob got caught in your throat when the smoke cleared and you got to see the owner of those eyes.

Your little fella. Your beloved tiny musical tot that played piano. Literally everyone’s warnings against him suddenly came to mind. He was not so little now.

Bowser extended one hulking arm, and with one of his meaty fingers, he dragged a claw through your collarbone without breaking the skin, like some twisted version of a caress. He let out a low purr, certainly deepest than it had sounded merely days ago. “Look at you...So tiny and cute...”

[sweetdreamsbuck]

soft

beefylumberjack!bucky x f!reader (lumby and bunny au)

prompt: Bucky reflects on just how soft you are, just how necessary it is to love you– every last bit of his perfect little bunny and those goddamn thighs.

wc: 4.4k

warnings: FLUFFY FLUFF, suggestive language, lots of body love, insecurity, mention of a hard-on

a/n: i've been having a very hard time. thanks for being so patient. this is a shitpost of my rambling and is completely self indulgent. someone sent in this ask as well, so i sort of combined it with some thoughts. there isn't a clear narration and normally that makes me self destruct and delete every sentence, but i just needed to write some things down really. not much plot or substance but just some things everyone deserves to feel about themselves. you're all perfect and beautiful and deserve a Lumby to remind you of it every second of the day <3

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

Bucky’s never known something to be so soft.

His scruffy cheek nestled so perfectly against you, harmoniously breathing with the thud of your heartbeat and the soothing rapid of rain pattering against his cabin roof. Bucky enjoys this time more than anything in the world, stroking his name and secret confessions of love within the confines of your thighs.

Any semblance of his control is long gone– your body is his own personal haven, the softest landscape with its own song and prowess fit for heaven. This softness is all he needs, and he’s known that detrimental truth since the first time he had the pleasure of looking at you; home rests in the curves of you.

It’s all your fault, bun.

On days you’re feeling your absolute lowest– everything having gone wrong, dying to try and hide every last bit of yourself from the view of the world; to the days you feel like magic– weightless smiles and heavy laughter dancing with every step you take– he’s mesmerized. Overwhelmingly so.

It doesn’t matter the state he finds you in; Bucky’s enthralled with every last bit. Those you deem ugly and unworthy, those parts you don’t always feel the beauty and strength of in simply existing– he’s always there to love them. To love you even more.

But your thighs… they're so necessary– strong enough to carry you and soft enough to dream of. How’s he supposed to do anything but worship them? He thinks about them a bit too often– even apart from now, peacefully snuggled against them– how they jiggle and sway with every step that carries you, how they conceal yet lead straight to the absolute bliss only you can grant him. How they house him so safely; when they wrap around him with the bruising desire to strike and never let go, showing just how powerful they actually are, just how forceful of a spell they’ve trapped Bucky in.

He tells you daily– ‘could live between these thighs, bun’– and he means it– ‘fuck– could die by these thighs,’ if only he were so fortunate.

Laying on them now, with that blistering warmth and security they grant his usual anxious nerves, Bucky can’t do a damn thing but allow himself the pleasure of melting within your hold.

Your ethereal voice and soft caress only add to the pure delight he feels after such a tiring day, tranquil background noise he wishes he could pay attention to– and he really tries to listen– but falls victim to just how soft his bunny is.

“And oh gosh Bucky! You should’ve seen what I did this morning. It was so funny, a bit embarrassing but still I–” your voice animatedly drones on, the well-known hum of you comforting him as his mind continues to venture deep within his thoughts.

Feeling you rattle on about your day, hearing and not seeing that memorized crinkle of your eye and the teasing curl of your mouth with every chuckle and shy reflection; you’re perfect. Every part of you is perfection. Bucky has never faltered from letting you know of it. But especially now, when you’re doing the most simple of things and he doesn’t have to be looking at you to know exactly what you’re doing– he can hardly fathom just how perfectly you fit him.

The way you care for him, the way your voice both accelerates his pulse and calms the buzzing anxiety steeping through his veins, the way every inch of your supple skin cradles and supports him so flawlessly.

People would probably find it funny– comical, even. How ingrained your being is in Bucky’s world; but he’s hardly embarrassed by it– by his need, by his burning passion and agonizing greed. By his searing magnetism for every last part of you, the tremors and tingles buzzing along his spine and manifesting deep within his stomach, spreading, painfully hard and bulging against the zipper of his jeans.

Fuck, it feels good. So fucking good for me, bun.

His friends poke fun often, and he’s entirely okay with it. Bucky knows how he gets, but he just can’t help it. Bucky knows exactly how he seeks you out in every room, how his hands twitch nervously until they can get their fingers flush against your skin, bursting with delighted reverence across every inch he can get his hands on– like right now.

He’s helplessly captivated and so thankful for every angle of that fact.

Bucky shifts, his heart rate picking up right alongside the tease of your fingers rubbing against his muscles. A groan of contentment slips from his lips, a small token of gratitude for always keeping the newfound fire in his world burning bright.

It’s all your damn fault, bun.

He knows the second he thinks of that sweet laughter of yours or the curve of your hip– that’s it. Bucky’s pulse goes flying and blood goes rushing through him like it’s only ever meant to be searching for you.

Bucky doesn’t ever want it any other way– struggling to keep his head treading above water while feeling the breath go in and out of the body he’s spent hours and hours understanding and impressing to his very heart; it’s a different type of serenity he no longer has to search for.

A chorus of your laughter floods the room, a soft moment of reminiscence you for sure thought Bucky would’ve joined in on– sometimes your embarrassing moments really are too funny to be true. But the amusement you certainly thought he’d grant you with never came. Instead, it was the jiggle of your thigh against his arm that brings his mind back to reality for a moment, kissing your hip with a pleased hum and smoothing his palm around your knee.

It’s so natural– the way Bucky loves you. It’s not even second nature to him, Bucky loves loving you. Sometimes it seems easier for him than breathing; he longs to be with you, to spend hours doing absolutely nothing and everything– as long as he gets to love and kiss you, it’s meant for him.

You long for it now, too. It wasn’t always comfortable or easy to have someone so infuriatingly perfect, desperate to cling to you with every gorgeously sculpted inch of their god-like body.

It was a long day– having discarded your work attire for a ratty old top and worn-out sleep shorts lying against the headboard is how he found you. Those playful blue eyes pleaded with you the moment they settled on your perfect figure, whining a bold ‘without me, bun?’, winning you over before performing his dramatic monologue as to how it's not fair to be lying around so sexy all the time, especially when he’s not there to witness it.

Your soft giggles fuel his desire to breathe most days.

And he feeds off of it– always pouting so handsomely, a pink hue dusting across his angelic features, batting his thick lashes at you until you pull him inside your lap wrapping him in your embrace. It always works on you– and he always knows how to get what he wants.

Tears of laughter from his antics are long gone, now resting with a pillow propped up behind you, carding your fingers mindlessly through his chestnut locks, telling him all about your day.

You feel it– that boyish ease and joy melting against you. The undying love and throbbing ache nudging against you with no other intent but to lay with you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing that makes the bad days worth all the pain and tears.

It’s so hard to concentrate– nearly impossible not to lose himself to the gentle vibrations of your voice, the soft pillow of your stomach cushioning his head so precisely, the tender divinity found in being enveloped by your thighs.

His hands have met a lot of things– destroyed and taken apart, even built and created a life for himself. Nothing compared to feeling you all around him.

So fucking soft.

And it’s warm; a warmth your body burns, a maddening fire that only your insides ever got to experience– until he let himself crash into you. Now, it’s the only thing on earth Bucky could ever plead and beg for with every tissue of his palpitating heart.

But when he acts this sweetly, it’s hard for you to tell him about nearly anything. Your voice attempts to continue carrying through the room, pausing and jumping frequently as his nose faintly travels the span of your most sensitive skin.

He just can’t help himself.

The timbre of your voice, the twinkle in your kind eyes, the radiance your sweet smile grants to every room; he’s found everything he never knew existed. And it drives him mad; with love, with desperate desire, with gratitude. What an honor it is to feel you, to think of you, to mark and claim you– to know just how powerful it is to love something so soft.

Bucky acts before his brain tells him otherwise, moving his hands down your legs and lifting them over his shoulders until he’s trapped comfortably against your stomach. It surprises you, a quiet squeak stammering out in between your pointless storytelling as his mouth gingerly meets the flesh of your thigh.

Right one then left.

“Bucky,” you breathe. He feels the barren weight of your reprimand festering beneath him, the vague jolt of your squirming body lulling him prisoner to your air. Oh, but he lives for it. The chuckle rumbles deep in his chest without it ever sounding, smug as ever– you don’t seem to understand the effect you have on him, unknowing of the stake you have pierced with a tantalizing plunge strangling every last inch of his heart– so he’ll be as conceited as he wants.

He knows you feel it, warm and large resting against you. It’s not his fault you’re the personification of everything perfect and needed, glorified with a golden halo and painted straight from his wildest of dreams. But do you really feel it? Feel what it’s like to love you?

The space you take up, the shapes your figure mocks his restraint and concentration with– it’s almost too difficult to breathe sometimes.

It’s terrifying, being so desired and craved in such a thoughtless way, inside the most insecure and vulnerable parts of you that you never imagined anyone seeing the worth in.

But you’re all his to consume. It’s all your fault, bun.

“‘M right here sweet girl,” nuzzling his body within the relief of you further, he sighs, “just wasn’t close enough. Should be good now.”

It’s even more difficult to remember what you’re telling Bucky about, with the air in which he acts as if it’s completely normal to be needed in such a way. And yet, existing with you seems to be the only thing he knows how to do without faltering one bit.

The pads of his fingers trailing along the width of your thighs and the tickle of his soft hair rustling against your stomach is enough to start you shakily back into where your rambling left off.

Bucky can’t help but kiss your thighs, humming in agreement with whatever the statement is that just left your mouth. Mhm, no idea what you’re saying, bun. But you sound good saying it.

Who could blame him for needing to kiss you right there? It’s your fault really– you shouldn’t have a body this forgiving if you didn't want him addicted to every last bit of it. Warm, sexy, pliant, voluptuous, safe– you know what? Fuck gotta keep kissing you right here, pretty girl.

You know Bucky felt the brief stutter in your speech the second his lips continue to brush gently across your skin, the flutters that ripple down your spine the moment he presses his soft lips to the inside of your thigh again. And again– and again and again. You always know. You know better than anyone that Bucky craves your breathless acceptance, your timid surrender of just how crazy you make him.

He’ll do whatever it takes to always have your breathing dance teasingly against him like that.

Bucky’s greedy.

Bucky’s a man of routine, finally, found peace in knowing what he wants.

His hands hadn’t ever known something other than the egregious efforts of his labor, the push and pull of something firm in necessity and unrelenting in dexterity. Bucky knew routine, he knew the force he wielded, needing to exert his brute talent and apply it to perform his role effectively.

It’s why he was able to keep his father’s business alive. It’s why he was able to feel useful for a few hours in his practiced days; the only time in his life he ever felt worthy of doing something, of being something.

But then you happened, and all semblance of controlling his strength went floating in the wind; quite literally knocking his world off its axis, stumbling straight into his vigorous hold. Your gentle hands slipped straight into his jacket pockets and wrapped your entire being right around his heart, his brain, his fucking lungs. Now, Bucky knows warmth; inhaling security inside of the softest home, the most sacred feeling to burrow himself deeper within.

You. And it’s changed him; effectively rewiring that burdened brain of his to help wear down any remaining abrasions from his past– to soften. To be himself– and it’s all your fault.

You feel the way his mind has slipped elsewhere, his breathing all too purposeful to be actively listening to your day. Calling his name a few times hardly does the trick, but a quick and determined tug at his hair gets him to open his eyes.

He hadn’t heard you calling for him, but he felt the familiar resonance of your voice singing his name. And how was he supposed to do anything but bask in it?

Your playful scolding of his name dances teasingly against his ears, the sprite and peaceful sound enough to render him brainless. The joy on his face is apparent as ever– you see it in the awe-filled gloss twinkling in his eyes, the warmth of his stubbled cheeks, the slight tremor in his curled lip.

If you could live inside a moment forever, it would be this one. There’s never been a gaze more adoring reserved for you than the light in which Bucky shines on you.

You’ve only ever felt something so palpable, so honest, in the chill of winter– the sun peeking its rays through an overcast sky. In the blazing inferno of summer– the humidity and fervor of the summer sun swirling in visible waves straight off of the concrete, rising towards the bluest of skies and raining down on your starved skin with a unique whisper.

Bucky’s love rivals the sun’s– nothing ever felt more certain than the crystalline azure he submerged you in. The sun may look at you, but it doesn't know what it’s like to feel you. And Bucky’s anything but nonchalant.

He’s possessive, obsessed with being the only thing to truly know you. Bucky gets what that Sinatra fellow used to blab on crooning about, an alliteration of his own namesake: Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered– by every conversation gifted from your beautiful mind to the lush contours of your body. A simpering, whimpering, child again– set on having you forever.

And right now, Bucky’s in heaven– wouldn’t anyone be after such a rebirth? The feel of your fragile fingers on his starved skin, the strength of your palm brushing through his hair; the shortness of your breath and stammer in your heartbeat the second his calloused fingers spread up the length of your thighs, tingles erupting across your flesh in giddy waves and spreading through his veins like the only oxygen he’ll ever need.

Bucky’s grown dependent on the newfound discovery of it. Half the time he can’t distinguish want from need– it’s all muddled together. Hazy and giddy and purposeful in intent; desire and necessity are no longer two separate entities to him. Just like now, his eyes closing reverently in this blissful moment of serenity: but your soft giggle sweeps past his ears, and who’s he to deny himself of something so delicate?

He finally understands what all those ancient sculptors and artists were vying to portray in their works– but not a single statue of even the strongest, smoothest, most sensual of images could ever emanate the allure of the goddess wrapped around him.

“Are you even listening to me, Bucky?”

“Hmm?” he turns against you, pressing his chin into the lower pudge of your stomach.

“Have you been listening to me?” it’s impossible to not melt under those stunning slate blues, peering up at you with that rosy hue dusting past his broad chest and up the curves of his neck.

“No,” a whisper, chestnut tendrils teasing at your stomach with a jovial shake of his head.

“And why’s that?” your fingers trace the pure flush painted across his features, trailing along until they stroke at his scalp.

Bucky swallows. Your words are playful– challenging, even.

He knows you love to tease him more than anything, but he still hears the lingering honesty behind them. ‘And why’s that?’. You don’t get it– unable to comprehend just how burdened with love he is for you.

Adoration trickles through his veins, shifting his weight on top of you. Gentle fingers clasp around your wrist, glazed over eyes never once leaving yours, bringing your palm to his lips.

Is it normal to want to embed yourself under someone’s skin? Bucky would say it is.

His insides shake just thinking of you, needing to touch you, to hold you, to feel your warmth spread like wildfire across his entire body. If only you knew how bad he has it for you.

He could spend hours tracing every last inch of you with just his nose alone– the marks that decorate your supple skin evidence of the care your ever-changing body reveres for you. It’s only right he gets to do the same.

The stretch marks, the dimples, the bumps and scars– they taunt him. He’s not certain he’ll ever be able to memorize them in the way they deserve, and that pains him. But hell, if he won’t die trying.

They grow and fade and lighten and darken along with you, never leaving and always existing; even in a time Bucky was not a part of your life.

Jealousy. Jealous of your own damn perfect skin, bun. The way marks trail your sides, envelop the swell of your goddamn tummy and thighs– they're just begging to be followed, bunny.

And does he worship them.

He’s always had trouble articulating his thoughts, but it’s near impossible now. Bucky struggles to think of anything but you. But he tries, just to be able to get through even the most minute of tasks; the dumb boots Sam just got, the few pines he’ll have to chop and load on some pallets for the courthouse, that new incredibly boring reality tv show Torres won’t stop yelling about– anything to pry his mind away from the harrowing spiral just thinking or glancing in your direction spins him down.

‘And why’s that?’

Bucky brushes his lips across the lines of your palm, gently pressing up each finger until he meets the very tip, returning to a new crease and starting again.

He knows what it’s like to lose himself to you, to be consumed by you, to be pulled in by the ebb and flow of your tide– he can’t get you out of his nervous system.

It’s so powerful. But so soft– so fucking soft. He can’t take it:

It’s the divots and curves of your physique; the way the air and light itself seem to cling to you; he’s wholly at your command. Every second you’ve smiled at him, every moment you’ve kissed his chin or cheek so gleefully, every second you’ve roused insurmountable bouts of feelings and pleasure within him.

And he can’t keep himself away from the very legs that introduced you to him. He craves the softness you bring into his world, but your thighs carry the consequence of a whole other dimension to Bucky.

Bucky takes none of it lightly.

Every breath of confidence, every tear of frustration, every word of self-doubt or ridicule– he accepts it all. It’s plaguing. Every single moment he’s spent with you is seared into every crevice of his brain, burdened with the overwhelming love he’s learned he could revel in.

That day you excitedly wore that new sundress, the way it clung to you with the very same vigor Bucky wishes to feel you with– that one afternoon he heard your soft voice on the phone, ‘I don’t know, I just can’t. I can’t– my legs are just… ya know? I can hardly look at them, I don’t really want them out in the open like that…’– the time he saw you pinching at the bulge of skin peeking out from under your shirt sleeve– every time he sees you fixate a bit too long on your reflection, on the way a shirt or pair of shorts didn’t fit you the way you’d hoped they would– the evenings he spends watching you lather your favorite lotions into your skin, a confident smile sparkling back at the gorgeous girl seated so prettily in the mirror.

It’s all just a torturous loop, especially now– laying in between your thighs on the plush mattress, nestled under a duvet reeking of your perfume and the perfect tenderness he’s only ever found with you:

His baby, his sweet girl, his bunny– his muse. He sees your beauty in every little thing now; the titillating shape of you and the promise of your sweet voice in every song and every gust of wind. Your thighs are one of the only reasons he makes it through his day, the reason he can’t keep his thoughts concentrated on anything else but feeling you all around him– you deserve to know it, every second of every day.

And looking down at you now, the honest fervor of a million suns shining upon you– one day; maybe you’ll understand it.

But much to Bucky’s frustrations, you are only human. You experience the same disdain and bad thoughts just as much as any other person, just like he does. And as much as that truth hurts him, his reason for living has real human emotions.

The shock of that revelation never truly leaves him, you’re the only beauty he’s ever come to know or want to have. But if anything, it encourages his mission of loving you further.

Beauty exists even in the misfortune of not recognizing it.

And he’d do anything to help you see it– whether his actions are a bit selfish or not.

His plush lips ghost down your wrist, breathing in the warmth of that soft skin of your arm you sometimes fuss about. The tender feel of his kiss is agonizing– who knew someone could love you just as you are?

Bucky trails quickly across your shoulder to your face. Was gettin’ ahead of myself, bun. Need a kiss first.

As if you could hear his thoughts, you softly slant your lips against his. It’s always the same practice, a kiss or ten to his emotionally eager lips, and then Bucky lets himself wander.

He’s a man of routine, after all.

Soft lips cant down your neck, atop your shirt, moving swiftly under the fabric bunched up around you and across your tummy. So fucking soft, bunny.

Caressing your skin with nothing but moans of love and sighs of contentment, completely fusing himself to you and resting his forehead against your soft middle to not overwhelm you. He grasps your thighs, burrowing further and sighing within their warmth, closing his eyes in genuine surrender.

Bucky’s fingers treasure your skin; gentle circles and patterns worthy of honoring your body, all to turn your insides to goo for him to bathe in.

“Thought you knew better by now,” he chuckles.

“How perfect you are,” his hand sweeps across your soft curves, stroking and squeezing ardently, “how you’re made for me.”

It’s almost too perfect, the feel of your skin forming to the grip of his rough palms, his featherlight touch met with desperate squeezes for all your body will give him, “You’re so pretty– so beautiful and I just can’t focus anymore, bunny. So sexy and all mine, every last bit.”

You shiver under his breathless tone, trembling demurely beneath his heated sincerity, feeling it as heady and deep and weighted as ever against your heartstrings. It sends you dizzy, shakily arching into his adoring touch, meeting the very hands that make you feel nothing short of perfection.

“I could spend days telling you all the things I love about you. Weeks showing you just how much I love every part of you…” he tapers off, his eyes roaming over the swell of your breasts and down your stomach, “and trust me bun. That’s all I’d do every day if you let me.”

His name rolls off of your tongue in vibrant waves, an incantation Bucky will never ever get used to drowning in. But his hands, his eyes, the raging love you feel beating within every part of him– it’s enough to send a person mad.

He means every word, every single stroke of the gentlest finger and every brush of the most firm of palms. Your body fights with itself– to cling to him wholly and revel in his praise, to recoil and hide every part of yourself from his unwavering commitment. But your Bucky would never allow that.

“So fucking sexy. Just–ugh,” frantic hands grasp your squirming waist, “don’t get shy on me now, bun.”

Bucky tries to keep his eyes locked on you while his lips map their love across your body, he really tries.

But his own desire and pleasure overwhelm him– his heavy lids and chest betraying his very intentions with nothing but need and the want to feel all of you. To revel in your softness.

He’s never had something so soft, entirely all for himself. And Bucky’s greedy– a greedy, lovesick man, incessant on maintaining routine.

And he’ll spend every second he can smugly reminding you of this.

But it's the widening smirk that seals your fate, a harsh storm of love and lust and rapturous awakening in the thinning blues of his eyes that sends torrents of warmth crashing through you. Don't worry, bun... I gotcha.

"Bucky..." an excited squeak pips out, he chuckles deeply all while his eyes eat up your widening realization of what you've just unleashed. Let's face it– he's just uncontrollable when it comes to you. And his hands have found something else, far more precious than any cut of wood, that they're really good at taking apart and caressing back together.

“In fact, we're going to spend some time loving every last bit of you. I’m gonna say something I love about every gorgeous bit of my little bunny, and you're gonna repeat it. Until I feel you're finally getting the answer to that little question of yours, you're gonna be good for me– okay?"

Can’t wait to get back to those thighs, bun.

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 09/08/2023

Planet Wisp Mashup Medley

Season 1 Featured on: GilvaSunner's Highest Quality Video Game Rips: Volume 7: Part mm2wood

Ripped by Smoky

Requested by @cathode-glacier!

(heads-up: there's no YouTube embed on this one because the rip has been blocked due to copyright. RIP to the comments too)

(heads-up 2: the Bandcamp is still down, and the rip is too large to embed. A Google Drive embed is what you get instead.)

Ah, Triple-Q...perhaps the ripper whose name was MOST well known in the early days of SiIva. Its hard to say exactly what is is about Q that constantly draws so attention to him. Be it his Twitter antics, over a decade's worth of experience doing audio shitposting, a very strong and consistent brand of humor and content, or some combination of all of the above - Triple-Q's influence on SiIvaGunner during Season 1 was unmistakably his. He's pretty much THE reason Snow Halation got an immovable slot in the channel's lineup of jokes, and had tons of influence all around in those early years.

As I've covered before on File Select Fusion Collab, the Season 1 finale was originally meant to be THE ending of the channel, which meant that a lot of rips made during it had a very...bittersweet tone to them. Some, like the aforementioned Fusion Collab, gave heartfelt thanks to the channel's fans for being part of it, wheras some like Everyday Goodbyes (SiIvaGunner Band Cover) were more personal passion projects from the team. During this entire event, Planet Wisp Mashup Medley stood out as particularly interesting - a massive 21 minute jamboree of mashups, all connected through the various theme songs of Planet Wisp from Sonic Colors. And according to Triple-Q, Planet Wisp is a song so personal to him, he considers it his own leitmotif. This was no coincidence.

Essentially, Planet Wisp Mashup Medley takes Triple-Q's entire history of Planet Wisp mashups and remixes from 2012 to 2016, and melds and mixes them together to form one giant, sudden loveletter to one of SiIva's most important contributors. To those out of the loop with Triple-Q, this was a rip already worth celebrating over its length and consistent variety in sound. To those IN the loop, this was something else entirely, and as the years went on has become sort of a parting gift to the guy. Q doesn't really contribute to SiIva anymore and left the team right at the end of the first Season, yet the mark he left on the channel has been immense.

In comparison to all that, there's not a lot to actually say about the rip itself. It's a wonderful listen and one I oft come back to. Take a moment out of your day and listen to it in full.

[melodyofthevoid]

the way y'all are handling ocean idiots is actually kind of inspiring me, because i have Ideas but i feel pressured to turn it into a whole blown Thing when all i want to do is just have fun with it, because every artist/writer/etc ive seen does it that way.

yall are the first people ive seen who are just trying to Vibe with your blorbos and it makes doing the same thing feel more achievable to me. god bless

PS larus is my favorite. love the little skrunkly bird man. also can i steal yalls powerpoint idea 🥺?

PSS i assume everyone else working on ocean idiots will see this bc yall are mutuals, but in the event that they dont, could you please forward this to them? because i want them to know that theyre indirectly inspiring a random person with their Just-For-Fun-Creation as well >< many thanks

Aw, anon this is incredibly sweet. I sent your message along to the others before I got around to this answer both because I wanted to make sure they saw it, and because I wanted to respond to this in a way that really reflects my gratitude.

It's honestly so tempting to start making ideas "a thing". I didn't really understand that until the last couple of years and let me tell you, there is a lot of pressure to do that. People like projects! They like updates! They love seeing the progression of a story and getting invested in that. I absolutely understand why people leave comments like "this should be a webtoon" or "you guys should make an animated series". In a perfect world, that'd be a dream! The temptation to do that and establish a base is also attractive because it can really form a base that gives numbers and comments, which artists of all stripes thrive on (myself very much included).

But what most people never really see is the downsides of that. From their perspective, a one episode animatic, a chapter or two of fic or few panels of a comic, isn't a lot. It's kinda disappointing, and I get that. For the creator though, there's any number of reasons that things fall apart. Personal differences with friends amplified by the stress of expectations. Creative burnout. Shutting down due to the sheer scope of the undertaking. These are all real, and it sucks to deal with.

For me personally, I know I do want to tackle trying to write more of ocean idiots, maybe even try to nanowrimo this shit (not in an actual month but you get the gist). But that's just me. If it bums me out or I put it to the side, then that's just my personal project to pick up later. If we tried to make it a series, then we'd deal with the stress of trying to keep up a schedule on top of lives (college, jobs, personal lives, etc). It'd take the joy out of these characters we love.

Some of the most fun I've had in the past few years I've been writing and creating has just been fucking around with my friends. Throwing silly au ideas back and forth and exchanging art and fics for no one but ourselves. There's a genuine satisfaction that comes from it.

Not everything has to be a big production. Artists don't make their magnum opus every time. They draw shitposts and write crackfic and make funny edits. It's healing to have something silly, something fun just for you, and to share it if you want. That can connect with people, great! But it can also just be for you. I could go on a whole tangent about social media and the commodification of attention/art but that's not really what we're here for.

I hope that whatever you create, anon, that it makes you happy. That it brings a little joy to your day. That you can have that thing you share with maybe just your closest friends to play with. Lord knows I need to remind myself of that too.

[wittymumbledon]

I suppose it's about time I make a more official pinned info message thingy so here goes Salutations, the name's WittyMumble. Feel free to call me Witty for short. English/Russian, though I don't post in the latter much aside from on ao3

I post art, both personal and fandom-related, but it might be a lil hard to find through the reblog spam without some tags.

Multifandom. (frequent features are TF2, Minecraft and Good Omens but rest assured - there are WAY more. Like the occasional Homestuck)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Notable Tags

#witty art - higher quality/completed pieces. a "featured" selection, if you will #mumble art - lower quality art, doodles and shitposts and the likes #witty wips - tag specifically for works in progress/progress posts etc.

#eclipse inc - the tag I have been posting the most for lately. scifi robot company thing I started years ago and am finally making stuff for. bit of a multimedia exploration.

#cephalopodia - a world me and a few friends created over quarantine. yknow catgirls? well these are octopus people and squid people (takos and ikas respectively). presently a little barren despite how much ive drawn of it over the years but I might start using this one more again, who knows

#concept design and #uni project - self-explanatory: me sharing the joys and woes of university. prepare for periods of practically nothing but that TuT

#ao3 - ...fairly self-explanatory. i stick my fingers into many pies and it just turns out that some of them are cream-filled, what can I say?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

.°˖✧Links ✧˖°.

Eclipse Inc Crosslink - because I realise its a bit hard to find as of rn

DevArt - in case you want to see some older art or the stuff I deemed too spicy/old for tumblr (still has my old username cause I don't wanna pay to change it TuT)

YouTube - also has my old username atm, but that's cause I wanna change it when I do a full channel rebrand. Speedpaints, Animatics and Minecraft shall be my three vices on there.

Twitter - the actually spicy stuff...please only proceed if you are over 18 ;u; 🔪

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I've seen a few people reblog my art and I feel honoured to receive that attention! Thank you so much! While that is completely fine (and encouraged!), however, please do not repost my art :3

I hope you enjoy your stay :3 :3 :3

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

I am really needing Advice and I don't have many people in my life that can help.

Here in the fandom I am wanting to reach out and try and make friends with of the members but I ......just don't know how.

I don't want to freak anyone out I just want some friends from here people to chat with and get to know.

I really enjoy my interactions with some of the members I just very socially awkward.

Hey there, anon! First off, I want to assure you you’re definitely not alone in this fandom and thank you for judging me an appropriate person to help. I’m definitely very socially awkward as well (even if it doesn’t show much since I’ve gotten very comfortable around here), so I’ve been there. I’ll share what I’d do in your situation (basically, what I’ve been doing since the fandom began sgksbsjsbs), I hope some of it can be of help to you <3

How to make friends in the fandom:

1- Discord

I, personally, do not really use discord chats. But I did back at the beginning, and they’re an amazing way to find people in the fandom to chat with! Essentially the etiquete of discord (as far as I know) is that you’re welcome to join in on conversations that are already happening, so you don’t need to stress about intruding. I’m pretty sure the biggest Hilda discord is Hilda Guild-a, but the tumblr community also has the Hilda Fandom Network. I (and any other member) can send you a link to the latter if you’re interested and don’t mind shooting one of us a DM! There’s also a sketchbook discord (and I’m assuming you’d be interested in talking about sketchbook since you’re. You know. *gestures vaguely around my blog* here), but I’ve been trying to find the link for jetcat for weeks and still haven’t managed to 🫠 wish you a better luck than mine, anon

2- Tags!

If you’re a person who makes content for the fandom — and I don’t just mean fics or art; shitposts and meta count too — pay attention to the people who not only reblog your stuff, but leave tags adding their thoughts/agreeing with you/screaming as well. They will probably be more open for dialogue since they not only already know you, but also like what you do and how you think!

Likewise, interact with the people you want to get closer to! You have probably already gotten a feel of some bloggers in the fandom, so make sure to reblog the posts you like from the people who sound kind and interesting to you, and let them know what you think!! This way they, too, will know you’re open for dialogue

(Also in this fandom it’s very common that we check the tags on our posts and answer them if there’s anything to be answered; so it’s already an unobtrusive way to get a blogger’s attention!)

3- Asks :O

See, you’re off to a good start! xD

Probably the main reason why I refuse to move on from tumblr, tbh. Asks are just so useful when you’ve already had some interactions with a blogger via their posts and want to talk more. You can always ask about safe topics; if it’s an artist or fic writer, I assure you they’ll be delighted to talk about their work. Also sending jokes or thoughts about characters/ships the person likes, or just about the series, is also imo a very nice thing to do :)

4- DMs (*sinister music playing*)

Okay, this is the scary part that you probably want to be careful with (I know I always want to, at least)

Once you’ve been interacting with people for some time in the ways I already mentioned, you might try sending them direct messages (this is especially acceptable if you’re mutuals btw, though that’s just unspoken etiquete and not a Rule of any kind). Depending on how long you’ve been in each other’s orbit, you might send them a fandom thought (that could admittedly have been an ask, but sending it in a DM will make it even clearer you’re interested in chatting), a post that reminded you of them and you think they might like, or even something a little more personal. I truly think this step will rely a lot on you sensing what is the most appropriate course of action

From then on I’d say it’s relatively easy (even for socially awkward people such as you and I) to sense whether the person you’ve approached is also interested in having a back and forth or if they’re just being polite. But either way, if you ever want to ask them (or even begin the chat by asking) if it’s they’re okay with getting DMs and/or apologizing if you’re being in any way intrusive, I think that’s a pretty chill thing to do. I can’t really see anyone in this fandom telling you “no”, but it’s still polite and would put your heart at ease evekvdjdbsjdb

Honestly, this is a cookie cutter-ification of a process that is generally organic, but as a general rule it’s what works for me. You might want to keep in mind that up until last year I was only in DM terms with *counting on fingers* uh. One (1) (☝️) person in the fandom, so I might not be The best person for you to copy xD though that might also be just because I wasn’t necessarily looking to make friends over here. It sort of just happened haha

Honestly, the bottom line is just that this fandom is filled with lovely people and I think wanting to make friends is all but a guaranty that you will. Something that I’ve learned from experience that helped me a lot to keep in mind is that if you’re afraid of being intrusive or impolite, you most likely won’t be. Just from the way you worded the ask, you sound pretty sweet!

I do hope you find what you’re looking for, and that you have a lovely time at the Hilda tumblr! Have a lovely day, dear 💜

[pan-magi]

Heads up that I won't have much to post for a while. I'm moving! Back home for a bit while I'm figuring stuff out (like not being broke). Before, when I mentioned my slow activity I left for a few years. Don't worry, I'm not planning on doing that. I have a backlog of... shitpost ideas, which I will post when I have time. If I have the sudden urge and energy to get some of my longer text posts done then I'll try to do them. Any edits and gifs though will be on the back burner for a while.

(That's the gist of it. If you want a mental health discussion and my general thought process on tumblr, read more if curious. It's more of the vein of "tumblr is an addictive website for me" than "this site is destructive and damning." jsyk)

I know I have it in my blog description that the blog is semi-archived. I have been doing my best though to at least post somewhat regularly. The rate for posting may not be fast per number of posts but for me working on them it is very time and energy consuming (yay executive dysfunction and undiagnosed ADHD woo). It doesn't help either not using Photoshop anymore making gifs is lot less streamlined (get all my necessary screenshots frame by frame and organize them -> edit each individually -> put them together with final edits to make a gif. All in 3 separate programs). My wallet appreciates the decision at least.

The thing is I put that in the description not for the lack of time I have to do stuff but the opposite. I have a lot of empty time to fill. Tumblr is one of the few social media sites I actually use and even with the ability to curate your dash (maybe in part because of it), it is easy for tumblr to be addictive without noticing it. That's with me not bothering with the app. I do check a lot with the mobile browser though. I knew with my attention span and how I tend to do or not get things done that being consistently active would not be the best for me personally. Not bad, per say, but not great.

I love you all. It's been great to see a few of my older followers still interact with my posts from time to time. It's nice to see new ones and the Magi fandom in general getting new people coming in, maybe just for the tumblr side or maybe new altogether, when the series has been complete for years. When I say tumblr is not good for me, I don't mean you. Lots of love for everyone /platonically, my aroace ass wants to clarify and add on a giant thank you for no aphobic hate by anyone here either. I would not have trusted to come out on tumblr even if I had my identity figured out when I was active before.

I do want to keep people satisfied. Analytics shouldn't matter on this hellsite, and they don't, not really. I don't care about what the number is but seeing any notes on my posts is a quick dopamine rush. "Yay, I made someone smile." If I have a free moment, I'm like "I should check tumblr," or "I should work on post for blog." I enjoy what I make and enjoy doing it. However, it's become more attempting to be active and getting something out there despite saying I will manage juggling all sorts of different stuff better. I'm not doing other recreational stuff I want to do. I'm behind on games, movies, books, creative shit outside of tumblr, watching Magi for at least the fifth time... If I have a free moment I'm "work on tumblr post."

It's dumb. I should be able to manage shit better. Again, ADHD. Or maybe it's something else. IDFK.

All this to say that I'm taking the excuse of moving to force myself out of the tumblr sphere. I won't have the time or energy to get larger time-consuming posts done. I might as well focus on something else when I have the opportunity.

I am not planning on disappearing. I do like it here. Stayed too long at the spa though and need to get out and get cool, fresh air. I have short, borderline/actual shitposts I want to get done, as mentioned up top. One may be up in the next week. Who knows though? I don't. What I do know is that if I post something over the summer it will be because it is something I want to get done, when I want it to get done. No rushing myself pointlessly. It will be little things though. Bigger edits and gifs aren't hard yet tedious and draining when I'll be buried in boxes and working on home repairs for the immediate future.

Everyone take care of yourselves out there. If you read all this, thanks! Now, I've spent over an hour working on this when it was supposed to take me 15-20 minutes, and I need to sleep lol.

[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

as someone who's not only from the US but also from a red state, i'm pretty sure the OP of that post about trump wasn't talking about people who have trouble getting out to vote or are affected by things such as gerrymandering. recently on tumblr there have been a lot of people talking about deliberately not voting even though they could, or going on about how horrible it is to tell people they need to vote for biden, because they're (understandably, but still) mad at biden for funding israel and don't realize that letting trump win over him would only make things worse for people in palestine, as well as for people in the US and in many other places in the world. i've been seeing so many posts going around where people say they're going to purposely not vote for biden and encouraging others to also not vote for him, that it's been making me utterly terrified that we're about to face another trump presidency. i think that's what that post was addressing.

I agree another four years of Trump would be catastrophic. I am also terrified anon. Thank you for reaching out and being respectful,

How is tumblr a reflection of the american population as a whole? and like There is NO context on OP's post, just generalizations. MY FEEDS haven't had people saying shit like that. There's been outrage over palestine, over US involvement, I've seen posts Promoting voting especially in states that have been criminalizing queer citizens, I've seen posts begging people to register, providing links to help do that. If OP wanted to increase Voter Turnout they maybe would've looked into those organizations in the states and promoted it too, I guess they can be doing that too right now. That is IF it's so important to THEM, those who don't have to live in it. It's easy to criticize. I'm not over here making posts about England and Ireland's relationship for example, I dont create my own content to speak on shit I don't have enough info for. I share and promote those who do, well when I'm not shitposting cuz I can't be serious all the time. Respectfully, we curate our own internet experience based on how we interact. Maybe that's the algorithm providing content for OP and you to see more often?

Nothing about these comments' you have told me about surprises me though, it's happened Every Election, as far back as I can remember. Because of our two-party system its almost expected that we go to or talk in extremes. That's tied to values and identity since our political parties love to promote and link their parties to moral and values. and honestly IDK why everyone is so surprised and worked up because it happens every election. Since 2004 we've had about the same 60% turn out, with a small dip to 58.6% in 2012. Tough divisive topics seem to get more voters out and more people want their vote to be heard, generally because they can't stand the other candidate. Even if every eligable citizen did vote, Trump could still win. Then what? That's why it comes down to the context and all those extra things like finances, education, demographic, area of the US ect. those things set trends for voters. We influence that we influence voting.

I can see why you want to keep these topics kinda separate. Unfortunately, everything is political and also interconnected. I can understand Why people are frustrated and wanting to throw in the towel. I don't agree with it but I understand.

Do you know a lot of our citizens aren't even registered? I was providing insight to why that could be. Ya'll seem to think what? Based on social media you know what's up? News flash theres people who never vote. There always has been. It's why education is important, it's why being involved in your community and local government is important. It's why paying attention to what happens around a election is important, as well as looking at the past. It's why talking to each other and encouraging people to go be heard, instead of ripping them a new one. (If eventually we can push for voters to go to local elections we can start taking away the political base for people like Trump. Also if we stop reelecting people over and over, oh and no lifetime appointments to the SC but those are for another time.)

The last two presidential elections had more turnout than before. This is why it's important to have context.

"Voter turnout in the United States fluctuates in national elections. In recent decades, about 60% of the voting eligible population votes during presidential election years and about 40% votes during midterm elections, with 2020 and 2018 marking the highest presidential and midterm turnout in over a century." -FairVote

Voter Turnout - FairVote

"The elections of 2018, 2020 and 2022 were three of the highest-turnout U.S. elections of their respective types in decades. About two-thirds (66%) of the voting-eligible population turned out for the 2020 presidential election – the highest rate for any national election since 1900. The 2018 election (49% turnout) had the highest rate for a midterm since 1914. Even the 2022 election’s turnout, with a slightly lower rate of 46%, exceeded that of all midterm elections since 1970." - Pew Research Center

Voter turnout in US elections, 2018-2022 | Pew Research Center

This second Article goes into depth about how and why people vote, education is a top factor, wealth is a top factor. Americans aren't known to be consistent voters in general, or we decide to pick and chose at which level we vote. BUT that doesn't negate what I said on OP's post.

You know my anon red state friend, we had two major divisive elections in 2016 and 2020, yet we had record turnout, we hadn't seen anything like it since about 1900s. Based strictly on the numbers? I predict about the same for this year. Now I can be wrong, and I will be the first to recognize it if this is the case with this election. Stay with me for a second.

Now lets look at that 40%, no one can possibly believe 40% of Americans just don't care and won't vote or add in a candidate. That number is the total who didn't vote, there are MANY factors to why people don't or can't vote. so a percentage of that 40% of Americans just say fuck you, but not EVERYONE in the 40% THATS WHY I GAVE CONTEXT ON OP'S POST, let me be generous and say half of that 40% are people who do that BS, CONDEMNING ALL AMERICANS FOR SUCH AN ABYSMAL NUMBER IS WRONG. I stand by that Anon.

It took me two minutes to do some research to share with you all. Anyone can look it up.

We DONT have mandatory voting or a national holiday to free up citizens to vote. The government actively works to make it harder. Many of us are paycheck to paycheck and have been for generations. So taking off work is virtually impossible. Most voting centers are open for normal business hours or just a little more than that.

We all got blamed for Trump yet Hilary won the popular vote.

If the Electoral College can completely change the winner of the election and go against the popular vote of the people, how can OP or anyone else really point the finger at everyday citizens? I'm genuinely curious. Enlighten me. Because change in law and or government organization in this country is slow going. Getting politicians with modern nonreligious ideas and policies is hard. Politicians who won't be bought is even rarer. Good luck getting rid of the electoral college, it'll be a hellva fight. It's slow going but we are going. Hell we've never changed the bulk of our constitution only really amending it, when France has had 14 constitutions.

At the end of the day my point? Shit is complex and people painting it in ultimatums is shitty. Americans actually have very little control, less than we realize, has been happening since 9/11 at an alarming rate. If this election gets declared as fraudulent, they could put whomever they want in the WH anyways.

Picking and choosing what plays into American voting and politics gives the wrong impression. Context is everything and we all know it. It's like getting a text that says "We need to talk" without context that can be a paralyzing statement. "We need to talk about our schedule next month" is completely different with just 5 words.

Honestly anon I probably would've scrolled on OP's post but the absolute? Oh I hate those.

Again I don't mind discussing these topics, and anon if you see this and wanna send another one I'm open to continuing the dialog, with anyone else too!

[bool-prop]

Check-in Tag

Thanks for the tag @siancyaniam

Why did you choose your URL?

Because I love sims 2 and the "boolprop testingcheatsenabled true" cheat was a life saver.

How long have you been on tumblr?

At least since 2014.

Do you have a queue tag?

Nah.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

Because I was drawn in by a blog's sim stories and I wanted to do it too.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Because it's my sona, Teal.

Why did you choose your header?

Because that picture in particular has Teal colors in it as well as the moon, my favorite thing we have.

What’s your post with the most notes?

The post from my "Animal Impulses" story, where Damien is subdued.

How many mutuals do you have?

Can't give you a specific number, because it's a lot.

How many followers do you have?

I'd rather not disclose that.

How many people do you follow?

39

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Not yet, but it's coming. Get ready for it.

How often do you use tumblr every day?

Too many times to say. It's one of my go-to places. Especially on my phone.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

Nope. I avoid drama like the plague.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this post'?

I don't pay attention to them.

Do you like tag games?

Depends on the game.

Do you like ask memes?

Yes, I do.

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

@treason-and-plot

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Yes, but a lady doesn't kiss and tell ;-)

[shorkbrian]

I’ve noticed a shortage of yan! Shoto :0 Whilst Kiri is my absolute fave, Todoroki needs some love too! Could I request some Yan! Shoto being absolutely touch starved and obsessed with a sweet, loving, motherly and smol reader? (it can be nsfw if you so wish!) Thank you!! (Btw, I love reading your stories, it’s a blessing in my day, even just looking at your shitposts/memes. And if you ever want to talk, jus say so. I hope you have a good day!! 🥺💞) - Sugar Anon 🧚‍♀️

Sugar anon! That is such a cute identifier and I hope to see you in my asks again!! Hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking!!!

It’s a very good concept btw cause like mhm him getting completely overwhelmed and overstimulated during diddly times cause he’s never had anyone be intimate with him.

Like moaning and his cheeks are flushed and oh

(Y/N) is a new doctor  at Shouto’s agency in charge of patching him up between missions and basically being his doctor. Shouto likes her gentle hands and soft touches, lets himself get a bit more scraped up then he would normally.  He’s just so touch starved and she’s so motherly and its such an intimate setting and he’s never had feelings like this before and he doesn’t know what to do.

Has yandere tendencies but tries to squash them down or hide them, tries to be normal.

One day gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk, stumbles into her office and she’s immediately worried, once she figures out what’s up she tries to get out, lock him in there until someone stronger than he can come escort him home but he grabs her before she can get to the door. 

He’s crying cause he’s so horny it hurts (he’s never been this aroused in his LIFE) and he wanted everything to be perfect and he wanted to woo her but now he’s forcing himself on her and he can’t stop his hips from moving and he’s confessing all the bad things he’s done while he’s known her and she’s absolutely horrified, traumatized.

Warnings - NSFW, noncon, very hard noncon. Aphrodisiacs (spelling?) and a low-key weird comment about Shouto’s mommy-issues at the end. Dude is so twisted and sad and touch starved.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Todoroki-san, I have had to patch you up six different times in two days.”

Shouto cocked his head, staring at you with his bi-colored eyes, studying your face as you tended to the wound on his shoulder. The lilt to your voice suggested you were teasing, making small talk to distract the man as you swiped a disinfectant pad over the cut. You knew what you would be expected to do when you applied for this job, knew that heros were often injured. 

He had overseen the hiring process himself, his last doctor had left the agency for a job in a different country. Shouto held no hard feelings for the doctor, knew that as a hero he often got himself into trouble, needed a lot of attention and care. Not everyone could be expected to spend so much time with him, attending to his health - even if he was paying them a more-than adequate salary.

Most of the candidates had bored him when they came in for their scheduled interviews. Too many of them were looking at this position as a way to launch them into a nice comfortable position in a prestigious hospital. They seemed… uninterested, or too interested, some of the candidates invading his space when they came for a handshake, babbling about how much of a fan they were.

  You weren’t like that. There was a professional distance when you shook his hand, smiling at him pleasantly as you introduced himself. Then you sat down, waited for him and his team to begin asking you questions. Shouto couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to your hands, letting himself wonder whether those hands would be the right ones for the job. You looked so delicate, at least to him, a pro-hero.

But he already liked you better than any of the other candidates.

So you were hired, on the condition that you would be on a trial period for the first two months, with halved pay. It was still far above minimum wage, but Shouto was weary of hiring seemingly-normal employees only for them to turn out to just be trying to get to know him, whatever their reasons. The trial period was for his own sanity.

Currently he was sitting in your office, perched on the edge of the exam table tucked into the corner. Today he had managed to escape his most recent fight with only a few mild scrapes and bruises, but as his doctor, you needed to make sure he was okay, clean his wounds and patch him up before letting him go home for the day. It wouldn’t do anybody any good if one of the top pro heros collapsed on the job because of a lack of medical care. 

Your office was stocked with everything a doctor of your caliber could possibly need. Your “office” was really a mock hospital room, in a medium sized room located at the back of the agency. Having you on site meant that Shouto never had to bother with trips to the hospital, being swarmed by fans when he wasn’t feeling good or having someone who didn’t understand the capabilities of his quirk try to treat him.

It also meant he could relax, know that he was being taken care of. With you being so new, Shouto still had his guard up, ready for any-and-everything. So far you had been nothing but gentle.

You had hardly talked to him, other than the expected “This might sting” or “Deep breath in”. You warned him before you touched him,  but otherwise were very quiet, working diligently and professionally.  Shouto enjoyed it honestly, being able to step away from the buzz and hubbub of his agency and into his doctor’s office, where it was quiet and calm and peaceful.

Being with his mother had felt like this. Felt safe and refreshing and like a secret haven tucked away from the rest of the world.  

Clicking you tongue, you gave the pro hero a thumbs up as you stepped back. “Alright, you’re good to go! Please be safe on your way home Todoroki-san.” Shouto nodded, a stiff smile passing his lips as he rose to his feet. You were a good doctor, always took the best care of him.

“You as well Y/N.”

——

The next visit to your office revealed that you had added a few personal touches. 

A cheesy poster on the wall, directly across from the exam table, a single plant on your desk, A bowl of mini lollipops on the shelf by the door.

Cute.

Today was a short visit, just a quick once-over to make sure there weren’t any cuts or wounds that he hadn’t felt, the normal questions any quirks used against him during the day.  Shouto found himself wishing the visit had been longer as you gave him the all-clear,  moving away from the exam table so he could stand up. Before he walked out the door, you stopped him, silently handed him a lollipop. He took it,  noticing how soft your hand felt against his as he withdrew.

Shouto didn’t like sweets, but he didn’t mind accepting a lollipop from you. He could just offer it to his secretary when he passed her desk, no biggie. It was easier to do that than hurt your feelings by refusing.

Well, he knew it probably wouldn’t hurt your feelings.  He just liked seeing the little twinkle in your eye when he accepted it. He assumed the lollipops were a gag, something usually given to small children for being brave at their checkups.

He wasn’t your only patient, much as he would’ve liked. His agency had several other up-and-coming heroes, and several sidekicks, and you tended to all of them. Shouto liked to think that you saved the majority of your tenderness for him.

One time he had come in while you were setting one of the sidekick’s shoulders. You had asked him to sit down in your office chair, to give you a minute so you could finish up with his coworker. Shouto had done exactly that, watching as your soft hands gripped the sidekick hard, fingers digging in. 

“One, two, three.” You gave a countdown, forcefully jerking the shoulder back in place on “three”. The sidekick groaned at the pain, head shaking as if to clear his head from the intense sensation. You went over to your lollipop bowl, ignoring Shouto as he sat in your chair, returning to the sidekick to give him the sugary treat.

The sidekick sucked on the lollipop while you bandaged his arm into a sling, immobilizing it so it could heal. When you were done, you sent him on his way with a soft smile, before turning to Shouto.

“Todoroki-san, thank you for waiting.  How are you feeling today?”

Todoroki moved to the exam table when you motioned for him, immediately stripping off one of the boots of his hero costume.

“Hello (Y/N), it’s good to see you. I’m feeling good, got nicked by a spike during a fight today. Luckily it hit my ankle, and it’s not very painful.”

“Mm, let’s have a look.”

You kneeled down,  giving him a small warning before pulling his foot towards you, examining the tiny cut gracing his ankle. Shouto paused, closing his eyes as he relaxed at your touch. He didn’t remember the last time he felt this at-ease with another human. He didn’t know what it was about you; maybe your gentle, soft demeanor? Perhaps it was your kind touch, how you never pressed too hard and always respecting his personal space.  

Even as your fingers prodded at the cut, feeling the bone underneath, Shouto felt relaxed, content. He liked being around you, being with you. Even if the two of you hardly conversed. Maybe he could change that?

“(Y/N), how have you been finding working here?”

You looked up at him, bright eyes warm and kind. Shouto felt his chest tighten. “Oh, it’s very nice Todoroki-san! I hope I’m doing a good job attending to everyone.” With a smile, you returned to his ankle, producing an alcohol wipe from seemingly nowhere.

Shouto nodded, hands gripping the edge of the exam table. “I certainly appreciate your service. You have very tender hands.”  Just like his mom.  When he was younger, before his scare… Shouto remembered the care his mother would give to a scraped knee or a bump on his head. The soft touch, the kindness, the gentle hands - Shouto didn’t want to insult you by comparing you to his mother, so he stayed silent.

With a start, the man realized you were beaming up at him, wrapping a bandage around his ankle. He smiled back, felt his cheeks flush a little. What was this?

“Thank you! I know how important my patient is to the world.”

Ah, yes, his job. 

His job that he should probably getting back to.

Reluctantly, Shouto accepted the usual lollipop from your hands, wishing you would linger so he could feel the brush of your skin against his own.

Was he developing feelings for you?

——

It was a startling idea. Shouto never thought himself the type to have /feelings/ for someone else. When he thought of his future, it never involved another person. He didn’t want a family, didn’t want the opportunity to make the same mistakes as his father.

But as he gave the idea more thought, Shouto realized that he was feeling… something towards you. It was different to what he felt for Izuku, for Bakugou and Kirishima. He didn’t crave their touch like he did yours. Had physical contact always had such an appeal?

His last doctor had touched him, it was necessary of course to patch up his various wounds from fights. But somehow it wasn’t the same as when you touched him. 

Shouto spent each exam studying you, your features, the way you moved, how you almost skipped over to the lollipop bowl to retrieve him one at the end of the exam.  He felt drawn to you, wanted to touch your hair, hold onto your hand when you handed him the lollipop. Would you touch him if he asked? A hug maybe?

In his penthouse, Shouto mulled over his feelings, his wants and needs and how you fit in. Would it be prudent for him to start a relationship at this point in his life? Would you even consider him as a partner? No, probably not. You were much too professional, wouldn’t even think of starting a relationship with your boss. 

Maybe he could fire you.

No, no, Shouto couldn’t do that, it would make you hate him. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to see you as often. And Shouto was quickly becoming of the opinion that he wouldn’t mind seeing you more often than he did now.

He wanted more from you. He didn’t know what he wanted, but… maybe he could learn. 

——

If you noticed how frequently Shouto seemed to be visiting you, compared to his usual once-daily check up, you didn’t say anything.

Tabloids were beginning to comment on how eager the pro hero seemed to engage in hand-to-hand with villains. His usual strategy involved using his quirk, only getting his hands dirty if absolutely necessary. But now? He was constantly looking to get hit, kicked, clawed, wounded.

He had to come see you after every over-dramatic scrap with a villain.  You didn’t seem to notice, nor mind seeing his face pop around the door 3-4 times a day, sheepishly asking if you could patch up a new cut, check out a new bruise, make sure his nose wasn’t broken.

Shouto could feel himself falling, further and further into the rigid embrace of love, or at least, his version of it. Did other people experience attraction this vividly? 

He had come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to you, not just your body but your mind, your personality, your very existence.  He wanted to stay in your office, lingering after every visit and awkwardly attempting small talk just so you would interact with him, just so he could be with you a little longer. 

In the privacy of his own apartment, Shouto found himself researching on his laptop. “How to get the girl” “Ways to let her know you like her” “What does love feel like”. He felt so juvenile,  but the man was genuinely at a loss for how to deal with his feelings for you. Telling you outright wouldn’t be appropriate. You would never enter a relationship with your boss, Shouto knew this, you were too good of an employee. Flirting was not his forte, and was completely out of the question. 

So he stuck to what he knew how to do - keep his mouth shut and watch. You never turned him away from your office, never showed irritation when he showed up, never gave any sign that you were becoming tired of his presence. Shouto took this as an invitation, a sign that maybe, just maybe, you had feelings for him too. He found himself bringing his lunch down to your office, asking if he could eat there, just to get away from everyone for a little bit. You always let him, nonchalantly scrolling through your phone as you ate during your lunch break. 

Shouto was a bit embarrassed of himself when he pulled your file from the employee records. If anyone asked why, he would just tell them that he was considering giving you a raise, but wasn’t sure. That’s a valid reason to bring out an employee’s file, right? He just wanted to know where you live, if it was far from the agency. The man couldn’t stomach the thought of you, gentle, little (Y/N)  having to walk home alone at night, or take the train with all the creeps that could be there. 

When he came upon your address, Shouto made a note to ask if you’d like him to drive you home. It was at least a thirty minute drive, he didn’t want to think about how you usually got home. What if something happened to his doctor? When he broached the subject, Shouto thought he did pretty well at acting nonchalant.

“The weather’s getting colder, isn’t it?”

You nodded, wrapping gauze around a nasty gash on his calf.

“I feel bad for anyone who has to walk during the evenings.” He stated.

“Aw, it’s not that bad in my opinion.” You took the bait “I walk home from the train station every night and the weather isn’t awful. It’ll probably get nasty as winter comes though.”

“You have to take the metro to get home? Where do you live.” As if he didn’t know. But you’d recoil if he offered just yet, probably be weirded out that he knew your address.

“Yeah, I live over in the Shikuyu district. It’s a really pretty walk in the fall though, all those trees turning different colors.”

Shouto wrung his hands, taking a deep breath. “Let me drive you home tonight, there’s been some criminal activity going down over there and it’s not one of my sectors. I need my doctor safe.”

You tried to protest, and Shouto let you, but ultimately pulled the boss card, insisting that he needed to take care of his employees, especially one that he bothered so much.

“You never bother me Todoroki-san.” You laughed, dropping a lollipop into Shouto’s lap.

Shouto kept his face from souring, missing the usual contact of your gentle, silky-soft hands as you handed the treat to him. But it was fine, he would get more time with you. In his car, just the two of you, outside of work.

Then he registered what you said, and his head snapped up, eyes wide and roving over you as you turned away, cleaning up the exam table and messy supplies. 

It was all the confirmation he needed.

——

After the first time Shouto drove you home, you refused to let him go out of his way to help you out. Still, he was your boss and he could insist that you at least call an uber, or a cab. He didn’t feel comfortable sending his little doctor off onto the train every night after work. Shouto even upped your pay so you could afford it easier, saying there was no reason to be unsafe.

It was hard for him to know if he was being too suffocating.  He didn’t want for you to regret your statement about him never bothering you.

So he had his agency install new security cameras. 

One was placed in your office, where there hadn’t been one before. You weren’t too pressed when Shouto asked you what you thought of the upgrades, said you could see the sense in making sure the building was safe, especially the doctor’s office, where the heroes would be at their most vulnerable. 

Shouto agreed - he was always at his most vulnerable when he was around you.

But now he could stop letting his body take a beating in order to see you. He could sit in his office, busy himself with paperwork and have the security feed from your office pulled up on his laptop. Half the time Shouto got distracted, abandoning the paperwork in order to watch you work, treating sidekicks and heroes-in-training and anyone else the agency had hired. 

He tried to ignore the bitter pang of jealousy that reared it’s head.

Shouto knew jealousy, knew anger and negative emotions very well. His childhood had been littered with nothing but bad memories and negative moments. The only time he felt at peace was when he was curled in his mom’s lap, the woman running slender fingers through his bi-colored hair. Sometimes, when he was still very small, she would have the time to read him a story before bedtime. 

She was such an amazing woman. 

Shouto saw her in you.

The way you tended to him so gently, delicately treating his wounds. How you carded through his hair, just like his mom used to, when you were checking for head wounds. The way your lovely hands pressed against his back when you felt to see if a rib was cracked, rubbing each rib slow and soft, pressing. It was just like how his mom would rub his back.

The man swore your touch was addictive. He wanted more and more and more and he didn’t have a clue as how to get it.  Shouto had to be satisfied with fleeting brushes when he moved before you were ready, accidentally jostling you against his body. Or telling you (lying) that his body was hurting, sore, it didn’t quite feel right. You would do your best to check for any injuries, asking where it hurt (usually his torso “hurt”) and then skimming your hands very carefully over the skin there.

Shouto imagined how nice it would be to fall asleep with your hands on him. He wasn’t stupid.  He was getting too attached, too invested, was practically stalking your at this point. He shouldn’t be doing this, lying to you, watching you. But he didn’t know what else to do.

Guilt was beginning to take root in his mind.

One day he knew he would have to tell you, confess his feelings and deal with the outcome. You would accept him, hopefully. Shouto felt afraid for what he would do if you didn’t.

——

Shouto felt hot, disoriented, thirsty. He was pretty sure he was in your office, had gotten hit with a villains quirk during a fight. Apparently it had knocked him out, as he didn’t remember even coming into the agency.

Muffled voices could be heard past the closed door, and Shouto winced at the noise, at the light, at the feelings of his clothes against his skin. Everything felt  too much.  He stumbled off the exam table, yup, your office, and moved towards the light switch, stripping off his shirt as he did so. 

The voices outside were still making noise, but with the light off Shouto felt a little better. His remaining clothes were still bothering him. His head felt fuzzy. His boots came off, followed by his pants. He wanted to take off his boxers, but his rational mind supplied how bad of an idea that would be. What if you came in?

At the thought of his little doctor, Shouto’s stomach jolted in arousal. Confused, the man peered down, surprised to find himself completely hard in his boxer briefs. He knew he considered you very attractive, but it usually took a fair bit of stimulus before he found himself aroused. 

Shouto gulped as he climbed back onto the exam table, immediately curling onto his side towards the wall. He was practically panting with the heat of the room, sweating and drooling. Wait, drooling?

The door opened.

“Todoroki-san, I have bad news.”

Your voice was so sweet, like warm honey. Shouto shivered when he heard it, his cock twitching between his legs. He wanted to turn to you, stand up, pull you close. But he… he shouldn’t.

“You got hit by an aphrodisiac quirk. It’s going to take a bit to leave your system, and will probably be uncomfortable until then. I’m going to leave some supplies in case you would like to use them, but I will be taking my leave after getting you settled. The rest of your team and I have decided it’s safer for you to remain in this room than attempt to move you back home. We will be locking the door so no one can come in.”

And you can’t get out.

You didn’t have to say it,. Shouto heard you shuffling around the room behind him, he was so hot, sweat was beading all over his body.

“(Y/N), Why am I so warm?” Shouto groaned out, trembling. It felt like he was sick but with… arousal.

Objects were set down on your desk, before Shouto heard you step towards him.

“The quirk is going to make your libido hyperactive for the next twelve hours or so. It’s very likely that you will be aroused and craving stimulation.”

You sounded so clinical, so robotic, none of the usual warmth in your tone when you talked to Shouto. He wanted to whine, cry that you weren’t treating him the way you usually did.  And when he needed your help too! His rational brain was telling him that you were trying to be professional, give your mostly-naked boss privacy. 

HIs rational brain told him to stay still, wait until you left the room to grab whatever you had left for him on the desk.  It was entirely possible that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from grabbing your hands if he turned. He wanted to feel your hands on him, running over his torso, rubbing his back, cupping his cheek. He wanted your touch, so, so bad. 

Shouto decided it was time for his rational brain to shut up.

When he turned over, sitting up, you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, already halfway to the door.

“(Y/N)” Shouto rasped, rising to his feet unsteadily. The arousal pooling in his gut was overwhelming - he couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so hard.  His penis was so rigid that it hurt, throbbing in his boxers.

You took a step back, eyes trained firmly on Shouto’s face, determined to not let them stray below the belt.  

Shouto didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t rationalize any of it. The man wasn’t even in control of himself, feeling as if some demon from hell had invaded his body, taken his dirty thoughts and insisted that he act upon them right now.

The pro hero didn’t even know when he had grabbed you, but then he was pressing you up against his body and it felt so good that the man whimpered. A low, needy sound, softer than the spluttering and shocked noises tumbling from your mouth as you pushed against your boss, trapped in his grip.

“Todoroki-san! Please let go! The quirk-!”

Shouto didn’t listen, didn’t want to. He started grinding his hips against yours, breathing hard through his nose at the pleasure roaring into his veins at the simple contact, his dick pressing into your stomach. 

It wasn’t enough though, he needed more.

Shouto dragged you to the exam table, manhandled you up against the flat surface and bent you over despite your struggling, the shouts of “No! Stop!”. Should he stop? Probably. But he wanted this. Had ever since he realized that he loved you, although it hadn’t been this intense before. With one quick movement, Shouto pulled off your scrubs, discarding your underwear in the same movement. He wasn’t concerned about foreplay - he needed, he needed all of you right now.

But the man couldn’t resist falling to his knees behind you, hands moving their iron grip from your palms to your thighs. His fingertip dug into your flesh, dimpling up your skin as he leaned forward, your pussy exposed oh so prettily for him.

Shouto didn’t know if you were screaming or crying or begging for more. He was too focused on the juicy flesh in front of him, leaning forward quickly to greedily slurp at the pink slit. He felt you jump, try to straighten your back but he let his hold on his quirk weaken, simultaneously heating and freezing each thigh held in his grasp. 

You quickly resumed the position he had put you in.

The pro hero couldn’t get enough, licking and sucking with fervent desperation at your folds, no rhythm or technique whatsoever. He couldn’t think, not with his face buried between your legs, your thighs shaking in his hold, your sweet little cries (“Todoroki-san /please/! Stop!”) filling the air. 

It could have been seconds, or minutes, Shouto had no concept of what was happening, only that you were the best fucking thing he had ever tasted in his life, and he needed everything you had to give him. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to burying his face closer, trying to spread your thighs further and further so he could reach deeper into your puffy pussy.

Your cum gushed onto his tongue, and the man slurped it up, reveling in the stick, wet sensation. 

He couldn’t ignore his dick any longer.

Letting go of your thighs, Shouto stood, pushing his boxer briefs down his legs as fast as he could, desperate to sheath himself inside your cunt. He could barely breathe, was so aroused he was light-headed with need.

With his boxers off, the man pressed close to you again, lifting one of your legs to brace it on the table, forcing you to go on tiptoe. When the head of his dick met your folds, Shouto felt his cock jump, the strange sensation making butterflies rise in his stomach. 

“Mmhm, (Y/N) I don’t know-I don’t know what’s happening.” Shouto confessed, one hand on your hip, the other guiding his thick cock into your pussy. “You just-oh, you look so good, always - always do. I need to feel - need to feel you so bad.”

He could feel your body trembling, and it briefly crossed his mind that you were probably crying. But his arousal slammed into him like a truck the moment he let his hips twitch forward, sliding his length into your wet pussy. “Oh god, oh-oh god, oh!”

Shouto came, crying into your neck, saliva dripping from his mouth and onto your heated flesh.

To his surprise, his dick was still hard, and the arousal was still pushing, urging, needy.

“(Y/N), I don’t - I’m so sorry.” Shouto stuttered, pulling back just to have his hips plunge forward again. You were so warm, so wet from your own orgasm and from his cum sliding inside you. It was heaven. 

Shouto had never touched, nor been touched this much in his entire  life. He didn’t know what to do, how to feel; it felt like his brain was on fire, and with each desperate snap of his hips, he was throwing on more and more gasoline. He had longer stamina this time, pounding you into the edge of the table for what felt like forever until his hips stuttered, his legs shaking as he orgasmed inside you.

When Shouto felt himself steady, he was horrified to find himself /still/ aroused. “I’m sorry (Y/N), This isn’t - I didn’t want to do it like this.” He was crying as he rutted against you, tears dripping hot onto your back. “I’ve been trying to be perfect, plan - plan dates, a relationship, anything, as long as it’s you.”

The man buried his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling raggedly. “It can only ever be you.”

His clarity was returning, each orgasm making him feel less and less feverish. At this point, his cock hurt, and he was too sensitive, but still, his hips wouldn’t stop. 

“I was going - going to ask if we could go out.” A lie, but it felt like the right thing to say. You were definitely crying underneath him, Shouto would be lower than trash if he didn’t try to comfort you. You didn’t need to know that the pro hero would rather have made you his home-doctor than ask you out. That way you’d be at his house, waiting for him, just like a pretty little wife, like a mother.

“I love you… think I always have.”

It felt good for Shouto to admit it out loud.

[rainofaugustsith]

Blogger Interview

Thank you so much to @cinlat and @jeswii for tagging me in this - I am sorry it took so long to do, but it was fun! Tagging, let's see, @verbose-vespertine @tishinada @itstheelvenjedi NO PRESSURE.

Why did you choose your url?

It's from my Ao3 account name which was made first. August - I actually don't remember why. Rain - well, I like the rain and I could not think of anything else. For Tumblr I added Sith at the end because my main is an Old Republic Sith (not to be confused with a post-Darth Bane Sith) and because 'rainofaugust' was actually taken.

Any sideblogs?

I have Rain Plays SWTOR, which is a player guide to the Star Wars: The Old Republic game I played for years. I wanted to make a guide that would explain some of the things I found confusing when I first played, give some helpful tips, and break down content to make it more playable for people. I especially liked concentrating on parts of the game that were considered group content and showing solo players how to get through it.

I stopped playing SWTOR when 7.0 hit, although to be honest I'd been, overall, unhappy with the story since the end of KOTFE. Having said that I've left the sideblog up because a lot of what I wrote might still help those playing the game.

How long have you been on tumblr?

Since 2017.

Why did you originally start your blog?

I started it because I noticed there were a lot of sapphic/wlw fans of Star Wars here, and one doesn't really find that elsewhere too much.

Why did you choose your icon?

It's artwork that was made by the wonderful of my main, Viri. It's such a lovely picture of her, and I thought it was perfect for an icon.

Why did you choose your header?

It's from my favorite part of my favorite flashpoint in SWTOR - A Traitor Among the Chiss. It's a little too long, and when it was released it was far too tedious, but aside from that I feel that the Copero flashpoint represents everything SWTOR could have been. It's got absolutely beautiful, detailed design that you could spend hours exploring - a city with little alleys you can explore; stunning scenery; a flashpoint that includes puzzles and not just 'destroy it all' gameplay; really good decorations and armor as drops; and even a transition from day to night. This scene is toward the end, where the PC ascends a staircase in some ancient ruins at twilight. It's such a beautiful backdrop that I always stopped to admire it during the flashpoint.

What is your post with the most notes?

There's one with like 10K notes, and it's about Diana Serra Cary, who was the last surviving silent film star. I wrote it few days after she died. That one still shows up in my reblogs now and then. There's another where I was talking about cultural appropriation of Jewish ritual items and the Hebrew alphabet in various media that has a few thousand reblogs.

How many mutuals do you have?

I actually don't know.

How many followers do you have?

Right now 329 I think?

How many blogs do you follow?

211.

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Not intentionally.

How many times do you use tumblr a day?

I more or less have it open in the background for messages and such, even if I'm not actively on the site.

Have you ever fought another blog?

Not really. A few of the fandom sheriffs and Lana Hate Club sorts have tried to start drama with me in the past, and in general my policy has been to block and add their names to my Tumblr filters immediately without engaging, or with a general warning. I don't owe them a debate, it's not really worth my time and attention to respond, and I'm not interested in the drama. I also am pretty proactive about blocking if I see someone being hateful on someone else's posts/relogs/comments because I don't need that nonsense here. If you want to act like a clown do it on your own time, not mine.

How do you feel about “need to reblog” posts?

It's a surefire way to get me not to reblog it. I'm not a fan of that sort of manipulation.

Do you like tag games?

I do, although I'm always anxious about tagging others. Like, is someone going to feel left out or not want the tag or…yeah.

Do you like ask games?

Yes, with the same caveat as above.

Which of your mutuals do you think are tumblr famous?

See this is one of those questions that I feel like I can't answer because again, will someone feel left out or not want to be mentioned, or what. I have some artists and writers on my mutuals list who are scary talented at what they do, and some have more recognition/followers than others - but for all of them, I really love it when their work pops up on my dash.

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I'm demisexual. Crushes aren't really a thing. I've met some awesome friends here, though.

[aceofshitposts]

Have a little something since me and @penumbra-twist were talking about Jason having keychains. This may or may not make it into one of my wips but I like it enough to post by itself. (also go check my twitter for the much more shitpost version of this idea which is: gun charms)

My ask box is also open for prompts or just chatting!! Feel free to drop by ❤️

-

The door slamming shut signals Jason's arrival for pre-patrol dinner and going over their open cases. Tim sits at his counter with his feet tucked under the bar stool, going through surveillance video stills that feature their current target.

"You will not believe what this lady at the grocery store said," Jason says in lieu of greeting, setting paper bags of groceries down on the counter in the limited space where Tim's notes haven't taken over.

Tim hums, eyes focused on the glossy photo in front of him. Jason's still talking, from what Tim vaguely gathers he got into what amounts to a Batman trivia fight with a random woman. He circles the license plate in the photo with a red pen, scribbling down a note to look it up when he gets to the cave.

The loud jangle of keys snaps Tim's focus, the offending objects landing squarely where Tim had been writing and causing his pen to go sideways. He stares for a moment incomprehensibly at them.

"Did you just throw your keys at me?" Tim asks, slowly turning his head to look at Jason who's smirking at him from the fridge.

"Constant vigilance! You should be paying attention," Jason says gleefully.

Tim rolls his eyes, picking the keys up to move them aside so he can go back to working. Two car keys, what Tim assumes are his apartment keys, a USB stick and a couple different cards for grocery stores. And a large round rubber keychain. Tim turns the disk around in curiosity, not thinking Jason was the kind of person to get novelty keychains, to be greeted with the Red Robin logo. The yellow rubber is a little faded, a little dirty in the way they get when they've been used for a long while.

"Is this," Tim starts, feeling a little like he's hallucinating, "a Red Robin keychain?"

"Oh? Yeah," Jason replies with a grin, "there was this gas station out in the middle of nowhere when I was on a mission with Roy, had all the Titans. You'll be happy to know yours was least popular."

"Oh, ha ha"

"Hey, it's not my fault people in the Midwest have no taste," Jason says, swiping his keys from Tim's loose grip. His tone and expression are causal except for the slight pink tinge that illuminates his freckles.

"Well, thanks for sticking up for me." Tim looks back down at his notes, trying to force his brain to focus back on what he was doing instead of the image of Jason picking out a keychain from a gas station store.

Jason goes back to puttering about the kitchen, Tim thinks he's making pasta? He's not sure since every time he looks up, his eyes zero in on the Red Robin keychain hanging from Jason's jeans pocket.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 1/57, 97.7k words

Next

I was like “hey brain I’d love to do a shitpost social media au” and then it was like r e w r i t e m i r a c u l o u s

I don’t even know if it really even counts as miraculous anymore so much has changed god damn it --

Rena Rouge had never been so excited for anything in her life.

Of course, at first glance people would find that insane. She was going to a meeting, after all.

But it was the people that were also attending that had her practically vibrating she was so excited.

All the heroes of Paris were to be gathered under Master Fu’s orders. They hardly ever worked together, so having all four (five, including her, she reminded herself) together was pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime event. She wished she was still a reporter, this was the kind of thing she would have killed to report on back in the day…

Still, a part of her had to wonder why exactly they were all there. Master Fu had been vague when he’d called. She had some theories, of course, but all this waiting was starting to shift her excitement into nerves. She attempted to smooth out her tail, but ended up just tucking it under herself to hide her anxiety. Maybe she shouldn’t have come so early.

The first person to show up after her was Carapace. He’d poked his head through the door, the hood of his sleeveless hoodie pulled so low over his face that it partially hid his face. Then he broke into a wide smile and pushed the hood up a little to show the green glint of his mask. He made his way inside and took a seat next to her.

“Salu -- Bonjour!” His confident smile melted into an uncomfortable one. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Salut,” she said, not wanting him to feel awkward.

Besides, that was kind of his whole shtick. Carapace was the relatable hero, the one you could vent about your problems to.

(Well, technically you could vent to all of Paris’s heroes, they didn’t mind… but Carapace was the only one that felt close enough to actually try it with.)

Silence lapsed between them as they sat there. She tried to remember whether she had met him as Rena Rouge or not and he seemed unsure whether she wanted to talk, but they were distracted from their thoughts when Chloe walked into the room.

Chloe just kind of… does that. If Carapace was the personable one, Chloe was the one who felt the most unreachable. She was open about her persona, had to be after everyone found out about it, and exactly how relatable can a mayor’s daughter be? She’d leaned into it, though, opting for golden jewelry and wings that glinted in the light.

Neither of the present heroes said anything to Chloe, and Chloe didn’t acknowledge them.

Was it rude? Technically. But what else were they supposed to do? Chloe had made it clear a week ago that she didn’t like them. There’s no good conversation that can come after you get shit-talked on live tv.

The last person to be on time was Chat Noir. The original hero. He gave them a smile worthy of a model as he slipped inside. “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” said Rena and Carapace, and even Chloe gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement.

The leather of his black suit made a high-pitched squeaking sound against the chair when he sat down that made both him and Rena’s hair stand on end (literally).

Master Fu walked in to find Carapace trying to soothe two very frazzled miraculous holders and Chloe ignoring them on her phone.

He sighed and gently rapped his cane on the ground.

Instantly, the room quieted. Chat and Rena snapped out of their shock.

“Bonjour,” chorused everyone.

He smiled tensely. “Bonjour. Where’s Ladybug?”

“Not here yet,” said Chloe. She set her phone down on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing in the papers, either.”

Master Fu nodded a little bit and took a seat at the head of the table. “We can wait for her. There’s no rush.”

Carapace hesitated before raising his hand. “There’s… a bit of a rush. I was procrastinating a college app and it’s due tonight…”

“It shouldn’t be long,” said Master Fu.

This was true. About five minutes later Ladybug burst into the room, panting softly. “Bon… jour...”

“Thanks for finally showing up,” said Chloe.

No one knew for sure, because Ladybug’s eyes were completely white, but they got the feeling that she was rolling her eyes.

“There was an akuma.”

“Really? There was nothing on the news…” said Rena, genuinely confused, but she trailed off when she realized that maybe getting one of your childhood heroes in trouble was a bad idea if you wanted to have a good relationship with said childhood hero.

Thankfully, Ladybug didn’t seem all that annoyed. “That’s because the news anchor and her crew got swallowed by it before they could get any information out. Anyways, it’s dealt with.”

With that, Ladybug took a seat in the last open chair. There was a beat as she smoothed out the red and black folds of her dress and then she crossed her legs and smiled at everyone.

Master Fu sighed and shook his head, slowly placing his cane in his lap.

“Now that everyone is here, would anyone like to guess why?”

The heroes of Paris stiffened a little bit. That sounded a lot like they were in trouble. They didn’t want to be in trouble.

Rena slowly raised her hand. “Is it… because of what Queen Bee said last week?”

The heroes’ expressions soured a bit at the memory. The video of Chloe trash talking all of them to an interviewer had blown up, and now they could hardly do anything without having at least one reporter hounding them for a response.

None of them could give any, though Rena was sure at least some of them were tempted. The public was supposed to think them all friends, or at worst friendly coworkers. It gave them hope, seeing them all working together for team ups, and analyzing their friendship dynamics kept them relatively distracted from the fact that it had been six years since the first hero had first arrived on the scene and they still had virtually nothing on Hawkmoth.

But now that illusion had been shattered (and trust her, she knew a lot about illusions). Akumas had been more active this week.

“That’s precisely it. Thank you, Rena.” Master Fu regarded them all carefully. “What do you think we should do about it?”

Really, they’d had no clue what to do about their image.

Chloe hadn’t been joking, she’d made that plainly obvious, so saying she didn’t mean it or that was just the type of friendship they had wasn’t going to work…

“Act more like friends…?” Said Ladybug when no one spoke up.

Master Fu nodded.

“Oh, so more team ups or something?” Said Chat.

Carapace shrugged. “Don’t know how much of that I can do, since I’m the only one that can consistently get in the water, but…” He shrugged again. “... sure, I can do that.”

The old man drummed his fingers on the table lightly to bring their attention back to him.

“Yes, that, too, but I was thinking something more… convincing.”

Rena decided that she definitely didn’t like the way his eyes gleamed.

“So, until you manage to defeat Hawkmoth, you will all be living together.”

Everyone opened their mouths to argue but he held up a hand to silence them.

“And you’ll be doing it publicly, posting regular content about it to a social media platform of your choosing…”  He put his hand down. “Now you can complain.”

The teens all immediately started attempting to talk over each other, their voices steadily increasing in volume as they tried to be the one to get their complaints heard.

Rena was silent. Part of her thought that she should be complaining. She had siblings, after all, she had a life outside of heroism… but she couldn’t help but smile. She would be living with her childhood heroes (for a long time, probably, because the Hawkmoth situation was not getting better)! And, really, her sisters could get annoying at times. She’d love an excuse to get away.

So instead of arguing she leaned back in her chair and watched everyone else.

Chloe was the most passionate about it, her jewelry flashing with every wild swing of her hand. Her voice was the loudest, but with the other voices in the room and the fact that she was literally buzzing in her anger it was hard to make out what she was saying.

Chat seemed distressed and Rena could see his mouth saying “I don’t think I’d be allowed to” repeatedly even if she couldn’t hear him over Chloe’s screeching.

Carapace’s face was set in an uncharacteristic frown as he complained. Sure, of those voicing their complaints, he definitely seemed the most relaxed, but the fact that he was frowning was in itself proof of just how upset he really was.

Ladybug was quiet, though she didn’t look particularly happy about it. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as if she was holding herself back from yelling as well and her fingers worried at the hem of her dress.

After a minute of this, Master Fu raised his hands for silence and instantly got it once again.

“Are you done?”

The general consensus was ‘no’, if the looks on their faces meant anything, but they nodded anyways.

“Good. Chat Noir, I’ve already worked everything out with your dad, we’ll discuss it more after the meeting is over.”

Chat relaxed a bit.

“Carapace, your schooling will not be affected. In fact, you’ll likely have a better college experience since all your food and toiletries will be paid for by me.”

Carapace’s expression shifted to a thoughtful one as he considered this.

“Queen Bee, must I remind you of the fact that you’re on thin ice as it is?”

Everyone’s eyes shot to Chloe, who had paled considerably. Her angry buzzing quickly lowered to a dull hum and she settled back into her seat.

Master Fu seemed sated by this, and he looked at Ladybug and Rena.

“And I’m assuming I don’t need to convince either of you?”

Rena shook her head instantly. Ladybug took her time to consider, but eventually shook her head as well.

“Great. Now, shall we talk logistics?”

~~~

Taglist:

@nathleigh @mialuvscats

[foone]

Unbreathing Vacuum

I got an ADHD inspiration to write a short DS9 fic off a shitpost about Star Trek-but-all-the-computers-run-windows-98, so I wrote a thing about Odo and the crew's reaction to his seeming death. (This was written for twitter, so it's gonna have some weird paragraph breaks, sorry about that)

Odo is tracking down a Bolian weapons dealer with as many morals as hair follicles when he finally corners him in a cargo bay. It goes south, quickly, as it turns out weapons dealers have access to a lot of weapons.

His Bajoran security officer is laying down suppressing fire as Odo sneaks around behind the Bolian who is trying out a wide variety of strange weapons, colored beams shooting across the room like we're in a deadly disco of death.

Odo reforms into a grumpy humanoid behind the blue man group reject, shedding his Andorian Ice Fox form that let him cross the sea of crates without detection. Odo grumbles "I think that's enough, don't you?" as the Bolian turns and screams.

The football shaped object in his hands that was beeping increasingly frantic pitches drops to the floor, and he dives for it. Odo looks down in surprise, then recognizes what it is, but it's slightly too late, as timers on Klingon grenades are not known for their accuracy.

There's a flash of light and pressure as it detonates, and the cargo bay wall cracks, and the one sound no one wants to hear in a space station begins: the high pitched hissing of air rapidly leaving.

Odo gets to his feet in that uncanny way he sometimes does when he forgets to move like a being who has bones. He simply transitions from a body on the floor to a standing vaguely humanoid form. The Bolian, being closer to the blast, appears dead, or at least soon to be so.

He turns to his security officer to tell her to go call Chief O'Brien, when the hissing wall suddenly groans with the sound of bending metal, and the wall gives way completely. An entire semi-rectangular wall panel is ejected into the black, taking Odo and the dead Bolian with it

The security officer, nearer to the door, slams the access panel and dives through the door before it can finish opening, and rips off a barely attached wall panel to yank on the manual bulkhead release.

The door slams shut with typical Cardassian efficiency, not caring or bothering to check if there might be a limb or two in the way. The hurricane wind of all the station's air trying to escape is suddenly ended, and deafening white noise gives way to the low hum of the station.

Moments later, the crew up in Ops are reacting to the news of Odo's death in almost comically predictable ways.

Kira, the career soldier, is angry. She's seen many friends die in front of her, and she never let herself become numb to it. She's swearing at Odo in ways that the universal translator is so good at eliding, saying she always told him he was taking too many risks.

Just because he won't mind when someone stabs him doesn't mean he's invulnerable, she told him, and he, as always, almost-smiled in the way he only seems to do around her and grumbled about how he'd be careful.

The young doctor is barely holding it together. Kira's lashing out but it's a controlled sort of anger, a way she keeps a handle on the pain of losing people. Bashir, the eternal optimist to Odo's eternal pessimist, doesn't really believe in death, a strange trait for a doctor.

O'Brien is focusing himself on technical issues to avoid having to think about the emotional ones. What kind of weapon could have taken out a reinforced cargo bay wall? Had it been damaged before and incorrect repaired? He makes a note to do a full check of structural integrity

Dax has seemingly no reaction, but that's almost to be expected. You have a different outlook on death when you've died before, multiple times. As a near-immortal you see many people and make many friends, and nearly all of them will die long before you.

You have to learn to accept it, or it will kill you by inches. One of the downsides of seemingly endless life is there's a lot of time to mourn.

The commander is definitely feeling the impact of the loss, especially having had far too much experience with this particular kind of loss before. He flashes back to that time he always, in some way, still resides in...

When an alien force shows up and starts carving your ship into digestible chunks, you quickly become intimately familiar with the effects of sudden decompression on the humanoid body. It's not pretty, it's not as fast as you'd hope, and it's something you never forget.

He maintains his composure, leaning on his command training, and asks Kira to make a list of security officers she'd suggest promoting to Chief of Security. He thinks for a moment, realizes Odo had no family, and says he'll send a note to Dr. Pol

He turns back to go into his office when there's a dull thudding noise, and a sort of faint tink-tink-tink caused by the flexing of glass that happens with even the thickest of reinforced viewport.

He looks around in confusion, and Dax suddenly points at one of the high-up viewports. Floating outside the window, looking only slightly more annoyed than his resting "I hate life" face, is Odo.

It feels like something outside of a horror movie, a ghost floating silently outside a second story window, because humanoids don't just happily move around in the harsh void of space without needing a suit or a forcefield to keep them breathing.

But Odo isn't like most humanoids, after all. He's not a humanoid, for one. He's more a confounding self-propelled pile of goo that sometimes feels like pretending to be a humanoid shape.

This is made more obvious by the fact that he's only half there. His lower half is not legs, but a shimmering stretch of undifferentiated shapeshifter material, in order to hold onto an access handle tightly enough to give him the leverage to knock on a window.

Seeing he's got the attention of the crew, he pulls his hands from the window and starts attempting to sign to them. Kira's the only one with any experience in Bajoran sign language, and the best she can make out is something like "he broke his... Weasel? Columns him... Boat?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes, like only a shapeshifter really can. The sigh is silent of course, but if anyone could grumble in disappointment in the vacuum of space, it would be Odo.

His hands blur together as he shapeshifts them into a new form: a small flat panel, with Bajoran lettering in a large block font, perhaps a little too blocky as his aggravation is coming across even in typographical form.

COMBADGE DAMAGED BEAM ME ABOARD

Dax and O'Brien quickly confer, taking a painfully long moment to figure out how to lock onto something that is neither wearing a working combadge or reads as a life sign. Finally they figure out how to get a lock, and engage the transporter.

The grumpy-looking chief of security rematerializes on the Ops transporter pad, adjusting his "uniform" in an entirely unnecessarily maneuver he long ago picked up in his study of humanoids. He's naked, after all, he just looks like he's wearing clothes.

"Thank you for bringing me in", he grumbles, not saying the "finally" everyone can clearly hear in his tone. "It turns out that you can't open airlocks from the outside, so I wasn't able to come in the obvious way."

O'Brien, still slightly surprised by the sudden reappearance of his "dead" coworker, falls back on technical details as always. "That's a safety system we installed. The airlocks won't open unless they detect a ship is docked."

Kira chimes in with "Yeah, the Cardassians didn't have that restriction, as they wanted the freedom to just toss Bajorans out the airlocks when they felt like it." Odo responds with his usual grunt, a dismissive "pah, you solids and your weaknesses and your squabbles" noise.

Sisko replies "Regardless, it's good to see you alive and well, Odo."

Odo half-nods. "Commander, if you'll excuse me, I have reports to file and a safety lockout to implement. As tempting a prospect as it might seem, I wouldn't want Quark to end up to be sucked out the station's new orifice when he comes looking for his shipment of Yarmok sauce."

O'Brien jumps in with his typical urgency, half-covering up the feeling of "I should have fixed that already, damn" that he's seemingly always feeling around here. "I'll send a repair team down there right away."

Odo doesn't turn as he walks to the lift. "That would be appreciated, Chief. I'd rather not have to walk along the outside of the station again today." he says, punctuating it by activating the lift and descending out of view.

Sisko rubs his forehead. This is a strange place indeed, and despite all the headaches it gives him on a daily basis, he's beginning to feel almost at home in this remote alien place.

This place is strange, the people are strange, the situation is strange... But they're his strange.

Maybe someday they'll stop surprising him. But he doubts it, and he isn't sure he would want them to.

He sits down at his desk and pulls up another of the day's reports, thankful he doesn't need to write that letter to Doctor Mora Pol, for more than one reason.

It's never easy losing someone under your command, and writing that letter to their next-of-kin never gets easier either. But it's a good day when you don't have to do either.

[jaynovz]

every third question for the fanfic meme

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year? (copy pasted from other answer :D)

The break-up scene from the Silver backstory is… I worked on it for so long guys. I worked on the fic itself for 7 months and it gave me FITS. And then like, the dynamic wasn’t quite right for William and John so I had to revamp it.

But yeah it paid off.

Uhhh honorable mention is The Epic Dog Pun Callout Speech Flint does in petplay.

6. least popular fic this year?

Sadly, and unsurprisingly, that would be the FlintMadi boat smut . I know this isn't a super popular pairing but like yall, it's def There. I have stared at canon and like. Yep. Here's a good excuse to go read my FlintMadi pieces b/c they're very good if I do say so myself. And I'm planning a non-sexual BDSM one for @calamitys-child ;)

9. longest wip of the year?

The Blacks Sails Post-canon Fix-it Fic! it's like 15k or something. It was the very first writing/collab project Brinn and I started on and we sure were Ambitious. I maintain that it will get finished eventually. By sheer force of will.

12. favorite character to write about this year?

That would be my terrible horrible sad pretty and complicated bundle of snakes lad, the one and only, John Silver.

everyone: surprised pikachu

I've left it all on the page (cough cough Silver backstory). Or in the shitposts, meta, playlists. I think yall have heard it all by this point lmao. But by all means, if you ever want my Silver opinions -gestures-

15. something you learned this year?

Well I sure learned I could write again! Also that I can make edits, and podfic, and art. Like. The creativity output has been absurd. Thank you pirate show and pirate fam, it's been great. I'm stunned, overjoyed, grateful.

18. current number of wips?

Hmmm.

Cupcakes. Becalmed au. Sex pollen v2. Break up mod au. Fix-it fic. Gorgon au. SoftVerse Series. Siren sequel.

Eight!

21. most memorable comment/review?

oh gosh. so I’ve recieved many wonderful, thoughtful comments, and I genuinely treasure all of them. But perhaps the most memorable is one on my very first published Black Sails fic, in over our heads.

I had basically never published fic before that point and was just. Not used to comments and didn’t expect any. And I can still remember how just over the MOON happy I was to get this one.

Thank you!!! It pushed me to write more for that story immediately. The comments are why flogging fic got three dif chapters <3

24. favorite fic you read this year? (copy pastin from other answer :D)

God what a difficult question tho… Let me go find the ones I’ve reread the most times.

Mkay so the two series that I’ve reread the most are:

Let me see you in your darkness by ember_firedrake which is a s1-s2 series where SilverFlint fall into some BDSM and then catch feelings.

and

Any Port in a Storm by Farasha which is a Very Similar vibe where they fall into a sexual relationship that def contains some Major Powerplay and BDSM elements and catch feelings XD

As you have seen… that is Supremely My Shit. I go back to these two series CONSTANTLY. They have basically everything I love about that dynamic. But for real just… Lookit my bookmarks.

27. favorite fanfic author of the year?

This is an extremely hard question but I gotta go with: @vowel-in-thug (ao3) for sheer quantity of amazing stories. I have literally read every single one of her Black Sails stories. Multiple times. And love each and every one to pieces. ESPECIALLY ORANGE VERSE. Thank you for your words. <3

30. favorite fandom to read fic from this year? (copypasta)

Well it’s PIRATES of course! 2021 is All Pirates All The Time babeyyyy. (Black Sails for those not paying attention :P)

--

Gosh that was a ton of questions, bless you!!