#id forgotten how much i love these men

[drak3n]

TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE: PROLOGUE

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: the launching of a new platform magically re-connecting seperated people has shaken the entirety of social media. after many months of contemplation and denial, you give in to your urges.

ꨄ. SENA’S NOTE: this merely serves as a way to introduce all eight parts of the mini-series! as they’re all characters from different fandoms, there clearly won’t be names or any specific action in this! so this is a little short :)

TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE MASTERLIST

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

everywhere.

it was everywhere you went. following you around like it was your shadow, cornering you at any given possibility.

you knew the drill. once something went viral anywhere, it would stick around for some time and then be forgotten.

that wasn’t the case with this damn live show. not at all. the first time it had been announced on international tv must have been ages ago, like around the beginning of the year. yet, the hype never seemed to die down, with more and more people freaking out online and in real life about how it changed their lives.

you were convinced it was a scam. like come on, who even believed in a fairy tale like that? being reunited with a lost lover, or any kind of lover who it didn’t work out with?

there was a reason it hadn’t worked out. because if there wasn’t, you’d still surely be with that person.

it started with trailers being shown on every channel you zipped through, announcing free slots for their newest season and putting emphasis on their confidentiality. how people had the choice to stay anonymous while spilling their private and embarrassing matters to so-called love experts.

such bullshit.

now, it went way past that. you ended up avoiding watching tv, just to literally be haunted by that cursed show in other ways. through flyers and stickers flying around, through posters hung up on subway stations and even inside of said subways, hell, a couple of days ago, there was even an airship promoting it.

TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE. a silly name for a concept just as silly as that.

what did you have to do again to apply?

right, as if there was any way of forgetting with how much your coworkers were babbling about it. they made sure to remind you of that every day.

“i’m still thinking if i should just call them the next time and try my luck,” you heard one of many tell another while you were waiting in the line for your lunch. “i really, really want to make up with my ex. they’re my only hope.”

their conversation went on for many more minutes, and you were glad when you finally were next in line to greet the lunch lady with a tired smile. as she filled your tray in a halfhearted manner, your smile quickly faded away upon hearing her talk to a fellow worker behind the counters.

“my son and his teenage love reconciled after he applied there. they are awaiting their first child soon!” the elderly woman gushed while placing a cup of pudding onto your tray, waiting for you to scan your employee id before you shuffled away from the line to plop down on an empty space in the crowded lunch hall.

it was all the same. love, love, love. always those same old problems. getting dumped, being abandoned, or doing the dumping and abandoning.

regret, sadness, frustration, desperation.

you came home that sane evening with thoughts plaguing your mind; with the big question if those were all signs for you to see. if everything you’d been hearing and seeing for these past couple of months were meant to open your eyes, somehow. to get the hint.

making a beeline to your bedroom, your eyes darted to the package placed on your bed. still untouched and waiting to be sent. the pastel pink stamp had been placed on the corner of the box yesterday by you. those fuckers made so much money with their hit show that they distributed stamps, to force them to send more drama their way for them to indulge in.

it was stupid that you had even put in the effort to package what was meant to have been tossed away long ago. it might or might not have been long yet, but why did you keep that?

as a writer, you couldn’t contain yourself. even back then, you had always known you’d end up becoming anything connected to writing, journaling, whatever. it was almost annoying how you used to document all those feelings you couldn’t put into words.

specifically writing letters had always been your passion. writing down your heartbreaks and grief into words and making them come to life on paper.

words you failed to tell him.

the recipients were all written on the envelopes inside the box, some years ago, and some recently, and you didn’t even know if they were still the same addresses.

for some, you knew for sure they weren’t.

even if the cast of TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE — if they picked you, that is — wouldn’t find their current addresses, you were for sure going to be relieved. those letters had been a significant burden on your heart ever since you had written them.

for the first time in your life, you didn’t feel any kind of satisfaction from writing. these letters existed to be sent. and you were realizing it just now.

they were meant to be read aloud, understood. they had to be read by others for you to be at peace with your unresolved feelings.

the very next morning, you handed the package to the post office, bidding farewell to years of bottled-up and hidden feelings.

it wasn’t until a week later that you received a letter, with the same pink stamp and sender the same you had sent your letters to. you found yourself reading it in front of the door to your apartment:

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

dear contestant,

we thank you for your package and were enthralled to read about your experiences. upon short discussions within our team of experts, we soon decided to choose your case to present in our next live airing, which is going to be this saturday!

the letters have already been sent out to their respective addresses — some of which we had to adjust as there have been changes.

it is up to you if you want to join us for our next airing — it be via call or even by showing up at our studio! we will welcome you in any case and make sure you will reunite with one of your lost loves.

please do not worry, as we will handle all of your data with the utmost care and make sure that none of it is leaked for other purposes.

up until then, stay lovely and trust the process!

ꨄ. your TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE cast

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

PROCEED TO OPEN LETTER

THE LOST LOVE ꨄ TOJI FUSHIGURO

THE ONE NIGHT STAND ꨄ HIROMI HIGURUMA

THE NEMESIS ꨄ ATSUMU MIYA

THE BEST FRIEND ꨄ KEN RYUGYJI

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS GONE WRONG ꨄ SHUJI HANMA

THE FORBIDDEN LOVE ꨄ LEVI ACKERMAN

RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIMING ꨄ TOUYA TODOROKI

THE BOY NEXT DOOR ꨄ SHOUEI BAROU

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

#jjk x reader #bllk x reader #bnha x reader #hq x reader #aot x reader #tokyorev x reader #draken x reader #hanma x reader #levi x reader #dabi x reader #touya x reader #toji x reader #higuruma x reader #atsumu x reader #barou x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #bnha smut #bnha fluff #bllk fluff #bllk smut #tokyorev smut #tokyorev fluff #aot fluff #aot smut #hq smut #hq fluff #toji fluff #atsumu fluff #levi fluff

[candiid-caniine]

Hey! Long time no see, i know i said id send you a fantasy i thought you'd like but now ive forgotten almost all of it, oop!

Life happened, and uh, i saw that you mentioned your libido being a bit low, which definitely is my case too (im recovering from depression, now that im okay id love to get my FULL libido back, or at least a good percentage of it) do you have any tips on that?

Also any recs of blogs writing in the same vibe as you? (same-ish kinks would be nice but im specifically looking for queer inclusive stuff!) it makes me 10x hornier than the regular video/photo porn!

Hope you're well, you pathetic little thing!

💫

hi friend!! ugh i feel you. sorry i haven't got any advice on regaining ur libido...we just let mine wax and wane as it will, though denial has been a big help in keeping it steady!

i've heard good things abt ginseng and some other herbs. obvs use at your own risk, mind that some herbal treatments can cross-interact with certain medications, remember that pre-packaged supplement pills are often unregulated and may contain toxins, and be aware that some herbal remedies work better on pw certain anatomy than others, and finally that many herbal remedies considered to increase libido are largely untested on trans folx!

finally, sorry it's taken so long to answer this ask...i'm autistic and have been cataloguing lol. i present to you a list of other blog recs under the cut, organized by general vibe! i've tried to primarily include blogs that do their own posts rather than those who primarily reblog :)

note that my headings may provide some context as to what to expect, but you read at your own risk and each blog will typically have its own trigger warnings addressed in the header/pinned. additionally, i've not tagged some of the ppl below because they prefer that "Men DNI" blogs not interact, and idk if "no cis men" qualifies ahah!

all blogs below are queer- and/or trans-inclusive, if not exclusive! there is no detrans/misgendering, at least I don't think - i don't tend to follow those blogs.

hard kinks (blood, knives, etc; includes primarily-cnc blogs):

@puppy-mommy , who also does general t4t kink content, but does state untagged hard kinks!

@visciousest is someone whose blog i scroll when i'm in a Certain Mood ahah,, i won't elaborate

@hell-hound-bites: just. fuck. would drool on his knife blade.

@snuff-fag: its username should give you fair warning as to how wild its content tends to get, so please browse responsibly.

@condor-bait is taking a break right now, and all my love is with him as he takes care of himself. he made me feel so valid and so fuckable as a young trans person learning to love myself in a new way, and i've always been too shy to tell him how much his content meant to me one-on-one (yes, despite its often-extreme themes!), and he deserves as much time as he needs to heal!

@unwillingfvckpuppy for mostly cnc and medical kinks! if you like his style, but not so much their harder content, he also has a more-tame main blog--i just mainly follow/scroll this one!

@vampvictim: top-tier cnc/intox stuff, plus some great knife/bloodplay :)

@cryptidtid is wonderful and holy shit i follow a lot of hard kink blogs lol. incredible

@cnc-pet: i have been following her for a long ass fucking time lol. they post a lot of really good cnc and stories, but you'll also find a lot of aftercare tips and advice on her blog! i really admire blogs who try to balance horny content with best practices

@dollobotomy

general kinky content:

@excessively-queer . just plain old good shit :) there's a good amt of edging and degradation.

@clouded-king was honestly one of my earlier introductions to the queer/t4t kink community on here and how fucking euphoric it can be :) he posts some hard kinks, but generally it's a balance of a lot of different kinks so read his pinned at your leisure!

@ / cottontailx : just good kinky nsft posts :)

@ / digitalpenetration: often specifically t4t which i love!!

@femmelovefemme can step on me :)

@bigothteddies: could not build this section w/o mentioning him :) they had a big influence on my fantasies for a long time!

@hazelj-xoxo: bigtime want her to cuck me. have followed her across multiple blog deletions lol

@transpidered is forever an icon!

@subspaceemo

@writefinch for great stories and text posts

edging and denial, specifically:

@6irlpet is 1 of my go-to hands-down-pants scroll sessions :)

@droolkink is my inspiration!

@flustersluts does exactly what the name implies lol. a good helping of other kink content too :)

@puppycvnt is a 10/10!

@barkwoofbarkwoofbark: we r denial friends imo!!

@strawbrrysub

@blyssful-abyss

@urhighnessbitch is a big fav <3

non-detrans genderplay:

@butchviolence does amazing butch supremacy stuff and i,,, fucking hell. even just seeing their username puts me in a Particular state of mind ahah. they also post hard kinks so be aware as you proceed!

@mtfdomme: i literally just reblogged from her today lol. tbh i want to be their little stupid pupthing. it's not all transfem supremacy undertones/overtones, but that's what i mainly follow her for, plus just general t4t goodness! also, their general personality? and the way she shuts down people who disrespect their boundaries? huge inspiration for me!

@cuntboydestroyer: take me to the animal shelter and neuter me. good lord.

@the-kind-of-dame is the main inspiration for my recent genderplay post lol

@terfbreaking-tgirl (be warned of dykebreaking if that's an issue for you)

@barbarian-lesbian is my other inspiration for the recent genderplay post

@superiorineveryway

weird asf (/complimentary; my favorite type of shit. robots, ND-focused posts, etc):

@specksizedgoddess has introduced me to things i didn't know, like...existed, and that's saying a lot as one of my special interests is kink! never knew how down bad i was to be a tiny buggirl, nor how much i wanted to be someone's stupid little robot... BIG tw tho: there is snuff and gore content here, so proceed with caution if you don't wanna see that!

@sapphling fucked me up real good with some bird!sub bondage posts awhile back lol

@nobelisha: found them through their ghost cnc post so that's why they're in this category ahah! they don't have a pinned so proceed w awareness :)

@devout-cleric: hierophilia/religion kink, and i'm something of an acolyte of hers :) if you've read this far down you may as well know i'm her Little Lamb anon lol

piss/omo:

@latenightomo

@pissheartmybeloved - their URL makes me crack up every time, plus good content!

@hold-it-a-little-longer - good scenarios/imagines!

@ohmyrashi - (i think) my original intro to omo!

monsterfucking/terato:

@septimus-moonlight was my first real introduction to trans-positive terato and i've never settled for half-fun cis-oriented terato ever since :) mind tags!

@eggedbellies as well!

@bredpun doesn't appear to be active lately but still good for a scroll!

@steamandcream

@of-mutts-and-men

#t4t nsft #asks #gen #denial #h/d #advice #💫 anon

[sincerelyverena]

Can you write for sub!Oliver? I'm so desperate seeing him squirming and whining😮‍💨

⟡⁺ RUN, BUNNY, RUN

oh hi guys its been a while ! never thought id manage to get this out but here it is, n i hope u all enjoy. ive missed each n every one of u (sorta) (joking). anyways im planning to lean in on the more multifandom aspect of my account, so youll be seeing a few different fandoms scattered around. nevertheless, give it a read! mybe itll be ur thing :] ty anon for this request, much love <3

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FEM!READER ‘beautiful, violent, vulgar.’ @ajs-222 @michael-loves-chickens @surazim @soocore @fedyascoffin

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒oliver got what he wanted at a price.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒smut ﹐sub!oliver﹐dom!reader ﹐y/n catton﹐reader is a cougar ﹐oliver just cant get enough﹐reader is implied to be a shorty ﹐elspeth is a hoe﹐cunnilingus ﹐degradation﹐orgasm denial﹐marking kink ﹐lowkey blackmail ﹐farleighs there too!

ON THE HUNT FOR BETA READERS! MSG ME <3

He reminded you of a bunny, an animal.

Oliver Quick was reticent compared to the hearty, high conversation around the table that night. He was stuck out like a sore thumb in contrast to the Cattons, a family line of the prestigious. High on the grace of themselves and each other. Blissfully unaware of anyone or anything past what they offer to their inflated egos. And who were you, to make such unprincipled claims against family? Against blood?

Mother  – Elspeth, as she insists all the children call her – had always made snide, discreet digs at you. Shielded with a manipulative curl of the whoreish pinks of her lipstick. Underneath those sly comments is a white-hot grudge, directed toward her only daughter of blood and the Catton heiress everybody just seemed to have forgotten about.

‘You only think of yourself.’ She says. 

‘You only believe you’re superior because you abandoned the only people who’ll ever care for you.’

But they never cared for you. Not in the slightest.

You were the only descendant of the new-age family line that didn’t reside under the roof of Saltburn, causing waves in the circles of old money when you took your trust fund (and dignity) in a single palm and vanished to New Mexico. 

Nevertheless, to maintain access to the trust fund, you have been spending the entirety of every summer with your bloodline you inherently disowned. Money was the bottom line, the bottom line of every transaction you make with your parents. Which wasn’t a problem in the slightest, considering in their eyes, how much you were worth was the only thing cardinal about you.

You had stayed summers long enough to recognize the twisted, Catton-branded pattern your brother, Felix, had fallen into. In your eyes, he wasn’t fit to be claimed the bloodline heir. His blood is unsavory and debilitated. During the presidency of his birth, Elspeth had been participating in affairs with men who would’ve directly tainted both the reputation of the family name. As well as the bloodline.

The crimson redness of your dagger-shaped nails clinks along the side of the thin wineglass in your palm. Those morals of clean blood had been hammered into your head for decades, no matter how much your mother preached her modernized values.

Elspeth was still the same harlot she was all those years prior. 

The exact reason why instead of disturbance, thinly veiled amusement is masked between your hues as you witnessed Elspeth’s conversation with Oliver. The wrinkle of her eye crinkled furthermore with maliciousness, masked with honeyed words. Oliver reacts in a manner especially foreign to you. The apples of his cheeks pinken as Elspeth momentarily offers a palm toward the muscle of his arm, a singular touch as Oliver’s lips clamped together. Unable to respond for a beat of a moment. The cogs behind Oliver’s eyes turn and work soundlessly, having to be coorused by Elspeth herself to respond. 

Oliver was a stark difference from Felix’s past pets, brought to the household each summer for the entertainment of all. You observe him thoroughly, without shame. Nobody would question you anyway, especially the Catton children. The food chain of the bloodline stands unquestioned with Felix toppling all competition. But you were there first, and the force of that power still stands. 

All that you knew was that Oliver would be at the very bottom. A stark, white rabbit amongst the lions and wolves. The sheep's clothing they wear? Deteriorated. 

And you’d die for a chance to snap your jaws around his neck.

Even though you were barely a decade older compared to the other descendants of the Catton name, your tastes in sexuality had simmered. You have had your fair share of flings, basking in sensual attention like how your younger relatives are receiving nowadays. 

You’ve made the stark assumption that only a few strains of men and woman could cause that familiar warmth to unfurl within the depths of her core. But you were solely mistaken, as the cobalt hues of Oliver Quick met yours. They withheld the sweetest traces of caramel that caused something to stir. Something that caused the top of your bare thighs to squeeze together absentmindedly.

Oliver’s once-pinkened cheeks redden once again. He was the first to look away.

Run, bunny, run. The words bounce around your skull aimlessly, as if the density of your head were hollow. Your only set intention was the young man across the cherry-wood table, and how your lips curl upward at the thought. 

An unmistakable atmosphere of tension ridged itself between the two. Unmistakeable enough for Oliver to virtually scramble from his chair with a lowly hinged creak as soon as the black-tie dinner was to be dismissed, disappearing into the estate’s foyer without another word. In the process, silencing the remainder of the table as they escape the metaphorical weight of their chairs.

‘Someone had to go.’ Farleigh snarks, expression feigning boredom.

Elspeth offers a scoff in turn, though the weariness of her hues twinkle with stuffed amusement. ‘Don’t be silly, Farleigh.’

On the other hand, Felix’s brow wrinkles. You tune out the roar of masculine voices and a battle of ego as the two relatives bicker over the treatment of their guests. The hypocritical bounds and leaps of their voices were enough for your meal of fancy, fickle steak and fluffy, mashed potatoes to churn in your stomach.

As much as Felix preaches for his adoration of Oliver Quick, the entire household – even the thinness of the estate walls – knows that he’s only a temporary fix to his hunger for the disadvantaged. Viewing himself as a saint, veiling the sin that reverberated inside. Even Felix is willing to slip unsavory words about Oliver’s history before their friendship, especially his mother’s drug addiction. 

You shortly realized you were the only one who hadn’t uttered a single word about Oliver. Yet, at least.  You were the only person under the Catton's roof. You’ve maintained formality, and politeness in the scarce cases of passing the salt along the length of the table. But there was nothing polite in the way the relentless azure of his eyes bored into your own, obstructing every value and moral you’ve ever known.

They always said curiosity would eventually kill the cat. The claws of your nails threaten to dig into the hitch of your thigh, deep to the point of drawn blood.

You needed to know about him.

The soles of your crimson-sheathed heels click against the top of the blemishless floorings. The space between your shoulder blades bur without missing a beat, bound to be from the hawk-eyes of Elspeth Catton and her descendants that followed. Nevertheless, you push past the judgment and persevere forward toward the same foyer Oliver had vanished into.

The double-storied entrance room was as grand as the rest of the estate. Dark 

strains of oak are the main attraction, revealing the old-money origins of Saltburn. Jars of incense sticks decorate the occasional corner, the passionate white musk filling the atmosphere, tickling the back of your throat as you inhale.

The peace-brimming silence is sliced with a stressed rummaging from the door placed offside, shielded behind the wood-trimmed stairway. You prided yourself on minding your own business, but you couldn’t help but shuffle a tad closer. Enough to catch a glimpse of a singular bead of light, trickling out of the gap the door had made.

You cursed the thrum of your heels as you ventured closer. Hand strained against the top of the engraved door, sending strained words to the universe as you threaten to inch it wider and wider open.

All that secrecy disappeared from your body at the sight of Oliver Quick. It took you a few, prolonged seconds to recognize the young man amid the shadows. The sight of his scruffy, pale knees pressed against the ground. A crown of wavy, brunette locks shielded the focused curve of his eye as he rummaged through something. You couldn’t help it, fingers curling to widen the door a little more.

Creak.

Nothing could prepare you for what you witnessed before you. Even the panicked alarm that flares in the cobalt of Oliver’s hues goes ignored as he virtually snaps his head toward you. Amid his hands, various Catton heirlooms have gone untouched. Useless to some, priceless to others, and you guessed Oliver had made his mark on that.

‘What in the world are you doing with Aunty Start’s Apollo earrings?’

The words escaped you in a rush. Who knew that that your snow-white, innocent bunny had nefarious means within the Catton family? You exaggerate aunty’s last name, a slight teetering edge of glee trickling into you at the sight of grieving recognition that filled Oliver’s eyes.

 You stepped fully into the doorway.

‘I wonder what Farleigh would think about that.’

Oliver didn’t take the threat lightly, notable by the slight shake in his voice. “You wouldn’t.” He insisted. His hands scrambled, and the box propped between his fingers slipped and clattered across the oak of the storage room’s grounding.

The sole of your heel slams against the bottom of the door, widening it entirely. You entered the room with a click of the underside of your shoes, reverberating throughout the suddenly too-cold, too-hollow room you found yourself in. The only sense of illumination is the light from the foyer, trickling into the suddenly too-compact expanse.

You crouched down. Knees hitting the base of the flooring similarly to Oliver’s own, barely a foot or two away. You could hear the tameness of his breaths. The sharp, panicked gasps and swallows that only made your lips twist upward. The threat was there, looming over Oliver’s head, choking him by the throat.

‘Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. You decide, Ollie.’

‘How–’

The length of your fingers curled around the curve of his cheeks, pressed into the slight hollowness that would follow. Silencing him in turn. The splinters of illumination from the doorway behind them manage to offer an iridescent glow toward the plumpness of Oliver’s lips as you squeeze half of his alluring face. 

You hadn’t expected the first, proper interactions with Oliver Quick to wind up in his manner. But you have no intention to stop. The fashion in which his eyes bore into your own, gaze hawk-like as he stared down at you. Eyelashes fluttering. Pupils dilated.

A wave of awareness rolled through you at the sight. Those same splinters of warmth unfurled in the base of your abdomen.

‘What are you doing here, Oliver?’

Your digits eased around the sides of his face to allow him to speak. The cheeks you once grappled somewhat pinkened once more, face glowing under your undivided attention.

Oliver’s breaths grew slower and slower. As if your touch drunken him.

‘Felix invited me,’ his words were borderlining a whine, scrambling to explain himself. ‘For the summer.’

The base of your eyebrows drew together darkly. The amusement reverberating in your eyes dissolved into a slight annoyance. Your fingers traveled toward the curve of his chin, taking it into your possession in a rough matter it sends Oliver’s eyes to rounden in response. He was a sick, sick liar.

He corrected himself, in seconds. ‘For revenge.’

‘Revenge?’

Despite your concentration, you hadn’t realized the lack of distance placed between you and Oliver. The proximity is intoxicating. To the point in which you felt the soft exhale of his breath fan across the form of your painted lips. His scent disturbed the twist of white musk and dust in the air, catching you off guard.

You dipped your head further upward. A single breath away from his own. 

Oliver’s words scrambled from his parted lips, each syllable trembling. ‘Revenge.’ He confirmed with a singular breath.

That singular breath that was virtually snatched away from him as you captured those plump lips with your own. A warm hum of pleasure buzzes throughout your body, sensations setting your nerves on fire as your mouth brushes across his.

You retreated into yourself momentarily. Ears perked up as Oliver drew in a sharp intake of breath, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with a glimmer of euphoria. He inched forward. A small movement that confirmed the lust that sparks behind his hues. 

Honeyed heat circulated throughout your body as your lips locked with his own. Threads of that same heat were found within each movement of their mouths. Your cheeks burnt with stuffled anticipation. 

A soft, strangled noise reverberates toward the back of Oliver’s throat as your hands enter the proximity of his caramel-like locks. Soft to the touch, feathery. The pads of your fingers curled against his scalp. Curling. Tugging. Kisses growing with heat and passion, further and further until Oliver was a mess between your two palms.

Oliver virtually whined as you pulled away. The lipstick you had carefully applied the hour prior smeared across the edge of your oh-so-swollen lips.

The pad of your thumb ran across the form of your mouth, the crimson red dirting the length of her digit. She pulled a single finger along Oliver’s lips, smearing the remnants of the lipstick.

‘And what are you doing with my family’s heirlooms?’ You inquired, words soft with sensuality. Masking it with a casualty as you press onward. Thumb pressed immensely into the dimple of his cheek, ruddiness staining the ivory of his skin.

Oliver leaned into her touch. ‘I was just curious, that’s all.’

You knew that there was a nefarious nature in his intentions. You removed your hand entirely and raised to your feet on two heels. The sound of your soles meeting the oak floor echoes out, bouncing against the walls as you approach an ancient, traditional desk. Draped with a translucent cover. It was considered to be as old as the estate itself, yet you had no problem sitting all over it. 

Oliver watched in the process. Eyes rounded a remnant of a bashful doe. A spark of recognition appeared behind those eyes as you inclined a singular fingertip toward the space before you.

‘On your knees.’

You took a bound of pleasure watching as Oliver dropped before you. Those knees strained against the ground. Trickles of arousal unfolded in your abdomen, nerves set alight and anticipation fluid within you as he came eye-to-eye with the satin fabric that shielded your cunt. And it was hard to miss the stained wetness.

‘Y’know what? I don’t think Felix would be too happy if he–’

‘You can suck off my brother later, but you’re serving me now. Or everyone will know whatever betrayal you’re planning against them.’

Oliver choked back any other remaining protests. Witnessing as your undergarments rolled down your hips, down the curve of your thighs, sliding along your calves, and dangling from the top of your ankle. Exposing your womanhood entirely to him, your legs widened a little further. 

At the sight, Oliver leaned forward. Willing to comply. A foreign, almost animalistic thirst reflects in the light of his hues. Only halted by a singular palm. Your fingers propped atop the strewn locks atop his head, restraining him from reaching the wetness he yearned for. 

‘I’m gonna ask you this again, and this time you’re telling me the truth, bunny.’

Your words were slow. Diligently pronounced and purposeful with each syllable.

‘What are you doing with the heirlooms?’

‘I just need–’ His words escaped in fluent gasps. Your skin prickled as Oliver’s trembling breaths fanned your womanhood. ‘I just needed some dirt on Farleigh.’

‘Oh yeah?’

The length of a singular leg of yours gradually intertwined around Oliver’s shoulders. Your hand eased up as you nudged him closer toward you. He willfully allows you to guide him, nose practically touching the top of your mound. 

His words continued with a shuddered puff, eyes virtually glazed over.

‘Something that’ll disappoint your parents.’ Oliver dwells upon his reasonings further.

‘And Felix?’

He nods.

‘You dirty,  dirty dog.’

Those words only fuelled Oliver further. And before you could even consider knowingly degrading him once more, the searing heat of his tongue is pressed against the slickness of your folds. He works his mouth against your cunt, movements growing sloppier and sloppier as he basks in the sexual validation he receives. The length of your fingers find themselves in his hair once more, fluffed, brunette strands coddled around your fist as you squeeze your legs around him.

The pleasure that you receive from his mouth alone is indescribable. Honeyed, warm ecstasy maneuvers throughout you. That familiar space between your thighs aches, even as Oliver’s lips latch onto them. Merely fuelling the fire that runs hot underneath your skin, alighting your nerves on fire.

“Fuck…” You can feel him grin around you.

A finger shortly accompanies the consumption of his tongue. And Oliver’s fingers are undeniably long, pale fleshed worked down to the knuckle with the force of a few pumps. He adds another. Then another. Stealing a moan or two from the depths of your throat, forcing you to clamp your lips shut. If anyone walked in. Your cheeks burn at the thought.

You bucked your hips into his fingers as Oliver worked you open, curling into you without faltering. Plunging his digits into you, again and again until you were breathless. Calves curled around him, guiding him further and further toward your sensitivities. Welcoming his mouth back onto you once more.

Oliver’s lips latched longingly onto the little pearl lining your entrance. He murmurs sweet nothings into you, fingers easing their pace until you can only hear the subtle quickness of your heaving breaths. And his whispers. Whispers of how wet you are, and how much he longs to quench that thirst. Again and again. On his knees, basked in his most vulnerable state.

Just for you. Oliver both in time, curls his fingers and squeezes your bud. Unleashing a wave of fire that takes you by the throat, walls squeezing around the length as you come undone. Shockwaves virtually gripping you. Tremors guide you back from your high as both grunts and moans of approval escape you.

Oliver glows under the attention. He peers up at you, through the intensity of his thick lashes. Doe eyes blinking occasionally, innocently, as he pops those fingers into his mouth where he once tasted you. Suckling. Tongue flittering around the pad of his digits.

‘You’ve done that before, haven’t you?’ Your words were more of a statement than an assumption. The pulsing of your newfound arousal doesn’t show in the slightest, only glimmering behind the intensity of your eyes.  You weren’t done with your bunny, not yet anyway.

Oliver’s fingers escape his lips with a reverberating pop. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

You reach downward briefly. Taking the lace of your panties with a single hand, guiding the garment around the base of your heels. Abandoning them on the dust-soaked floor. Those same heels meet that same grounding.

‘I didn’t take you for a fuckboy, bunny.” You practically spit, taking pride in how his eyes wobble slightly at the force of your filthy, filthy words. A short snap fills the room as you indicate your hand towards the oak tiles. 

‘On the floor.’

Oliver doesn’t say anything less, finding his body sprawled out before you. Essentially submitting himself to you in the process, something that ignites that oh-so-familiar heat in the pit of your belly. You stand over him, relinquishing in how he stares up at you, willing for you to do anything to him.

‘Pants off.’ Your words are snappy and insistent. You almost feel like that spoiled little one you used to be as a child, one who would get anything you would desire. ‘You don’t need them.’

Oliver’s fingers work to untangle his belt, loosening the dark fabric of his pants.  The material rolls down his hips, his hardness is immensely visible through the thinness of his boxers. The bulge accompanying the arousal that burns throughout your entire body, abdomen unfurling with that oh-so-familiar heat. 

You drop down toward him, legs clamped down on either side of Oliver’s thighs. You are squeezing them somewhat. The curve of your palm cups the fabriced nature of his manhood, causing a soft moan to escape him. 

‘[Y/N]...’ The broadness of Oliver’s hands grapple the frame of your hips, the warmth of his fingers curling around you. He virtually buckles up into you, against your bareness. A motion that causes your lips to curl up into a lazy smirk. 

‘Repeat my name, bunny.’ The pad of your fingers tease the rim of his boxers.

Oliver’s breath shudders. ‘I’m begging, [Y/N].’

A gradual, mocking roll of your eyes overtakes you nevertheless as you tug the thick material down. They roll and crinkle along the bottom of Oliver’s thighs, allowing for him to spring out for full reveality. For you and you alone. A low whistle fills the emptiness of the room as you observe his girth. Oliver is virtually trembling under the intensity of your gaze as you curl a fist around the length of his shaft, taking delight in how he buckled into you.

‘Be patient now.’ The words escape you with a scoff as you feign annoyance.

Oliver quietens in your demand. Alas, as you position yourself above him, you can still hear the raspiness of his breaths and the pleasure you take in the stink of desperation high in the air. He buries himself into you with a singular thrust, merely forcing a soft groan at the initial discomfort at he fills you. Stretches you out. Your hips slap against his own as you buckle up and down across his length, Oliver mimicking your movements to a tee.

You arch into him, soft noises of pleasure escaping you as he manages to claw ecstasy from you with every singular thrust. Your inner walls clutched around him, causing Oliver to drop his head back, gasping your name out as if it were a prayer. As if he were on the verge of life and death.

‘[Y/N]?’

‘Yes?’

It’s odd how the two of you presented the conversation as if you weren’t rutting your entire life and soul into him. Onto him. Oliver continues to writhe around some more, arching himself into you, again and again. The whiteness of his cheeks is notably flushed with arousal.

‘I’m about to –’

You slow down your pace until you’re merely mounting him, the lack of movement causing a groan of sexual frustration to claw from Oliver’s throat. The side of your thighs squeezes around his hips for extra exaggeration as you proceed to speak, merely unphased, even as you are reaching your release.

‘Jesus, Ollie, don’t be so fuckin’ greedy.’

You scold through hitched breath and hushed moans. His girth is warm inside you, and something about that is so utterly pleasing.

‘You aren’t to come unless you’ve pleased me enough.’

The demand causes Oliver’s head to loll back with esteemed annoyance, but he doesn’t say anything. It merely prompts the width of his hands to press into your hips, beginning to rock himself into you. It steals a moan out of your lips, but the sight of his desperation is a sight of see indeed. You arch further into him as he ruts against the exact spot that causes you to see stars.

The length of your hand folds around the back of his neck. ‘Right there, bunny, oh, you fuckin’ beast!’

Closer now. Closer now.

‘Say my name, [Y/N].’ Oliver heaves with strained breath, holding back on his orgasm has done numbers on him.

You wack him across the back of the head.

‘That’s my line, dickhead.’

Alas, the words barely escape your lips as the boiling and bubbling dam within you snaps and crashes. You dissolved into nothing but pure pleasure. Nevertheless, whatever you had said, Oliver’s name played on your lips in something that bordered screams. Tremors of ecstasy fill you as Oliver continues to pound into you, guiding you throughout your orgasm in your most vulnerable moment.

Aftershocks spark within you as you go limp, pulling yourself together with heaved breath and glazed eyes.

‘Have I pleased you enough, then?’

Oliver’s voice is hoarse, tearing you out of your orgasm-fuelled trance.

‘It’ll do, bunny.’

But before, Oliver can even consider his release. You rise from your previous position, his girth sliding out of you with ease, glistening with your slick. You tug the fabric of panties around your hips and back in place, glancing in a dust-covered mirror as you adjust your appearance. To make it seem as if you haven’t spent the past half hour having the life sucked out of you.

‘[Y/N] –’

Oliver’s protests rise in the air, falling upon deaf ears as you proceed to exit the room itself. The bottom of your heels thud against the wood-slicked tiles as you reenter the dining room, hope in hand. Your wordless wishes are fulfilled at once at the sight of Farleigh, who is window-watching, wine in hand.

‘Farleigh, thank God, I found you.’

Farleigh turns his head, bringing his glass to his lips.

‘What now?’ He’s waving away your presence entirely, it is clear.

As much as you despise this half of the family, you maintain a clear mind.

‘Oliver was rummaging through your mother’s heirlooms. I suggest you go, now. Heed my warning or not, I don’t care.’

A look of suspicion flashes across Farleigh’s face. His lips part momentarily in question before he thinks otherwise. Smart boy. Setting his wine down and immediately dashing past you. A yell or two sounds out a moment later, and your painted lips quirk upwards in pleasure.

You knew what Oliver was up to. It was clear from the first day you laid eyes upon the household’s guest. But no. It wasn’t up to Oliver to wipe out the Cattons from existence, even though he’d be doing the filthy work for you. It was admirable yes.

But it was your job. A job you strived to complete.

You slip your hand into the slight pocket in the fabric of your dress. Pulling out a small capsule. Your eyes narrow down on the glass of wine, vacant on the table. 

Starting with Farleigh. 

WORD COUNT: 4K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

#oliver quick x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #saltburn #oneshot #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #saltburn imagines #saltburn x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton smut #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #sincerelyverena #📂﹟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐬 .ᐟ #📁﹟𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .ᐟ #📎﹟ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 .ᐟ #🕷️﹟ 𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 .ᐟ

[thenewgothictwice]

I Am Not The Same by Tala Albanna. Published in Baladi Magazine. Tala Albanna was born and raised in Gaza. She is a law student, a writer, and an activist in the human rights and environmental fields. She has a strong passion to discover more about the world of animals and nature. She likes to read and she also embroiders (tatreez) in her free time as a way to bond with her ancestral home in Jaffa.

"A kite that flies over heads

in attempts to rebirth a forgotten ritual

in a place that glorifies tradition

to break the sky’s dominance.

An olive tree keen in silence,

ripped away from its honorable root.

A surface that burns these bare feet.

Dreams blown away like sand.

Wishes for a new, productive year

Or just one collective wish to stop the war with not one loss more.

Handing my father yellow cartons of a humanitarian aid package,

to light them and make hot bread;

setting them aside in hope of returning home

and collecting our scattered clothes.

The image of extended hands,

crowds of people who are presenting their ID cards

to resign their personal information in a way of getting any grant,

sinks inside.

Conventions that expose how brutal the world is.

Missing a stroll under a brightest moon

On a street edged by jasmine’s scent.

At dusk, the time when I’d lay under the shelf to pick up a book.

It has been a long time since I saw my best friend

and we sat together in the first seat in a lecture hall,

gossiping about someone who made us mad.

I was trying to comfort her the first time

I experienced the death of someone I loved.

I couldn’t believe it. I’m still waiting for this nightmare to end.

We’re souls of emotions,

not only beings in need

of food and water.

Men in a hurry to save what remains dry under a damp tent.

Children rushing with containers to feed a starved family beyond a tent.

I see my family every day

but I miss them so much, as no one ever is still the same.

Even I am not the same."

#tala albanna #palestine #gaza #free palestine #palestinian poetry

[delayshay]

I want to explore the issues that I had growing up as a non-monosexual queer woman because I know they have effected the relationship I have with my own gender identity greatly; yet for how many multisexual women there are in the queer community and have been in queer history there is so little that explores our relationships to gender (whether that be identity, expression or roles).

There plays this idea that if you are a masculine queer women then you are likely just a butch lesbian or if you are in a relationship with a man then you must secretly be more feminine, or will eventually overtime conform to become more feminine for your male partner. That it means you will play a passive and receiving role with that partner whether in gender or sexual roles simply because you are a woman and they are a man. Regardless of the queer relationship you have with your sexuality and by extension gender.

The amount of times I've seen only feminine women headcanoned as bi/pansexual and only masculine woman as lesbian in any and all media. Or canonically masculine multisexual female characters headcanoned or re-interpreted as solely lesbian because of course a bi/pansexual woman couldn't be this masculine or have a complex and very queer relationship with their gender and the roles they wish to embody.

On a much more personal note, for so long I felt like I had to either be a butch lesbian oy queer trans man if I was to ever be respected in my more masculine gender and sexual expression by both my own partners and the greater queer community. Pigeon holing myself into one or the other because my own identity and personhood is constantly erased, suppressed, mocked, and completely forgotten.

We need more queer theory and culture around what being bi/pansexual can actually mean and how it genuinely isn't just "gay-light" "50/50 gay and straight", that it is and always has been it's own unique queer identity. A different way of viewing yourself, your relationships, and your role in the greater world.

I can't speak for the bi/pansexual men but I know they also have their own relationships to this that I would also love to hear, share, and celebrate. <3

*this is also inclusion to any and all trans folk, while I ID more as a women nowadays I also consider myself on the enby spectrum and definitely very gnc, I know what gender expression and roles greatly effect anyone and everyone

#klair rambles #bisexuality #pansexuality #bisexual #pansexual #queer #queer community #gnc #gnc women #been thinking about this for months and finally just putting it fully into words

[7knives]

hii this is random but ur ocs all seem so interesting and cool and i'd love to know more about them👀 (if you want to talk about them ofc no pressure :D <3)

thank you so much, that’s really nice of you! 💜💜💜i love to talk about them! i have like almost a dozen but the most fleshed out / to me currently interesting ones are: levi, tayuhl, lance and the priest. A brief summary of them would be:

levi (he/they/it/she) is a tma oc. he is like a monster hunter similar to trevor and julia but not an avatar of the hunt. levi loves to cause trouble and annoy people. they do the hunting more so because it messes with people and the ritual plans and not because he wants to get rid of 'bad' avatars. also because levi likes violence lol. most closely it might be aligned with the spiral but he doesn’t have any spiral-like powers. he thinks of itself as unkillable (hence the hubris).

tayuhl (she/her) is a fantasy oc. she lives in a sort of post-apocalyptic medieval fantasy world where magic that went wrong destroyed her world. it draws influences from botw when the guardians went rogue and fantasy in general. she’s fighting similar machines powered by magic and tries to collect knowledge of magic of which a good portion was lost in the destruction of the temples. with that she hopes to figure out how to stop the machines for good. strictly speaking she hasn’t got any magical powers herself (visions aside) and fights with swords and bow and arrow.

venn alancer (she/her) most of the time simply referred to as lance is a star wars oc that has existed the longest out of my current ocs. i came up with her as a teen. she is but a simple bounty hunter trying to make her way through the galaxy. in earlier (flying) accidents she lost both legs and as a young child her left arm and now wears protheses. kind of like han she assisted the rebels in the fight against the empire. her ship is called 'the silver spetum'.

the priest (they/them) is my newest oc and a time-traveling assassin. they were born during the victorian era in london. i haven’t got their backstory all worked out yet but eventually they join/are recruited by time-traveling assassins who in theory can be hired by every person from every time period. but the very frequent time-travelling takes its toll and the assassins can’t die (from natural causes. not as great as it might seem at first. it’s more like bilbo said: 'like butter scraped over too much bread') and have also forgotten a lot of crucial information about themselves. for example the priest forgot their name, who they were before etc. i only picked their name because i thought it sounded cool as an assassin’s name skskks. later i made up a story how they got it (in their first few missions they disguised themselves as a priest and the name stuck) not sure if i will stick with this story though. the reason i choose the victorian era was because i love the suits the men were wearing at the time and i always imagine the priest wearing something classy like this on a day to day basis.

typing all of that out actually made me want to work on the priests back story more so thank you for asking! 💜 id also really love to hear about your ocs if you want to share!

#i didnt get into too much detail bc i think it would’ve been too much at once sksksk #all of my ocs lore might change a little from time to time but thats the current status #ocs #oc: levi #oc: tayuhl #oc: lance #oc: the priest #honorable mention ocs are len and andy. they’re not ready yet

[mz-elysium]

[ID: a white title "Forsaken" and subtitles "a Baldur's Gate 3 novelization" and "act 1" over a foggy forest]

Forsaken (Act 1)

Forsaken by gods and men, forgotten by friends and family, six secretive strangers are forced together as victims of the mindflayers. Death sentences tick in their heads, as they hunt fruitlessly to cure or control it. They have been left with only each other — gods help them. No Tav to play psychologist. The den of horny trauma victims have to fix themselves, or make each other worse. Without Tav, Wyll is first among equals in this six-man Origin party.

AO3

Romances: Wyll/Astarion, Shadowheart/Lae'zel

Friendships: everyone. all of them. they all relate to each other in different ways and (eventually) become close friends.

Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Morality (mainly Astarion), Friendship, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, EA Wyll (check a/n for details), POV Multiple, Character Study, Other Additional Tags to be Added

a/n under cut

Author's Notes

As fantastic as BG3 is, this is the game I wish we had. Included are some character/plot decisions I wish had been included, “missing” scenes, and minor tweaks to the story. Restoring some EA content and choices. Fleshing out other chars. I also get to make them kiss like Barbie dolls.

Wyll, in full release, is his father’s son. Mature, calm, wise, understanding, regal, and noble, all set on a moral foundation of absolute bedrock. He will end up there. This story is about him finding his way back to the man he wants to be. Right now, he’s EA!Wyll. A 24yro kid who’s been a celebrated folk hero for 7yr; immature, rash, reckless, violent, riddled with doubt and unresolved daddy issues who sold his soul for heroism (andfameandglory). Mizora also turns him into a devil vs just giving him fiendish features, so he’ll be reckoning with what that means.

Full list of Act 1 restoration notes:

Wyll hates goblins for EA backstory reasons; reinstalling his EA backstory, for how he entered his pact.

Rebuilding the Daisy plotline; move the Emperor to Act 3.

Consequences for using tadpole powers.

Add Orpheus much earlier.

Halsin’s deleted EA journal and plot; this will let us recruit Minthara without committing genocide (less “restoration” and more “fanfic invention”)

Rebuilding Nightsong’s “datamined” plot, bc I find it more interesting.

Raphael actually offers deals and has a larger role, bc every game would benefit from more Raphael.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #wyll ravengard

[algrolo]

Game Concept

I want to make a game about knowing your neighbors. I really like sharp, line based 2d artwork like Gris and Zean Macfarlane's architectural sketches, so itd be a stylized 2D platformer. I remember playing Little Big Planet and being enamoured with the colors and characterizations and zaniness of its world, and Id want to also capture that attitude.

Youd play as a pseudo-silent protag, which Ill be refering to as The Rider. Heres a quick animation I did for them as a concept

When I say psuedo-silent I mean that they dont speak and have extremely limited time when they would "say" things. Think like Frisk from Undertale; they technically do "say things" but never as like. A speech bubble.

Anyways, so far all Ive gotten is this idea of connections and knowing your neighbors. You live in an apartment building and theres a scripted order in which you meet your neighbors. Each of the real playable levels would be a neighbors apartment, which always transcends into a much bigger world than just their apartment. One of your neighbors has an 8yo daughter who loves everything pink, cupcakes, sweets, and is super bubbly. Her "apartment" would be a world that reflects her interests.

I dont really want dangers in these worlds, similar to how Gris plays. Gris only has 2 moments where your character gets reset for failing an objective. I admire this commitment to gaming as a step of passivity and possitivity. You dont get a game over, you dont lose a life, and theres never a notion that you died, just that you got reset.

Simple sketch of what happens when you fail a section where there would be danger (maybe only bosses?). Rider just kinda crumbles to their knees, and the background fades out, and upon pressing [X] you get back up to a specific save state.

Maybe it should be nicer like GET BACK UP. Im working on tone here. I think I want there to be a common thread of Loneliness prevailing through the game. Like, maybe the little girl is the first neighbor, very fun and bubbly and she invites you over. Maybe The Rider just moved and is all alone in a new place. Maybe they had to leave somewhere, also isolating them.

I think its very easy for loneliness to creep up on us as we get older. Exhaustion from work and life creep up in your 20s and suddenly you find yourself reminiscing about school and when you had more free time and you talked with friends all the time, etc.

So you, as The Rider, begin to learn who your neighbors are. You take a step at combatting the loneliness. And your neighbors range from little girls to old men and various other characters of all walks of life and with each neighbor you meet, you develop a sense of space and community. Furthermore, you enable neighbors to meet each other. Sometimes, its not just you who struggles with loneliness and making friends.

Ive got so many ideas for potential neighbors and worlds, considering I can just adapt my interests to themes of each neighbor. One who loves trains and mechanical things. Another one who loves card games and board games and silly thing of that like. Another who loves bugs and moths especially. And each world finishes with the creative landscape in which you are exploring of your neighbor into a simple scene in their apartment. The little girl you are watching for your neighbor while she ran out for a forgotten grocery. The card game enthusiast is showing you his favorite card game and is incredibly grateful for your willingness to listen to his rambles and all the rules. The train expert is showing you her model trains.

The intent is to show that everyone has their own interests and things they like, and sometimes it can be intimidating to find people to share your interests with outside of an online, cultured space. Most people like to share their interests, they just want others to listen. And its always good to just know your neighbors.

#this is me

[emblazonet]

So, the Black Jewels Trilogy

Saw these books recommended in a thread about adult sexy fantasy books, and my brain went ??? Wait. They weren’t that adult???? They had dark themes, but they were fluff.

I’d almost forgotten about them. I read them about 15 years age (wat!) in high school. My friends at the time peer pressured me into it. They would tell me about all their favourite scenes and squee about them as we whiled away lunches in the stairwell, which both spoiled a lot of the fun of reading them the first time and I still remember which scenes were spoiled as I did my reread.

I enjoyed them well enough at the time, because they were dark and a bit gory and a bit sexy and I was ravenous as a teen for anything with sex, violence, and especially BDSM. I grew out of them by uni.

So the thread was specifically recommending them as an adult alternative to the trendy ACoTaR books by Sarah J Maas that I have never read and don’t intend to. I have since learned that some hold the opinion that SJM plagiarized or otherwise cribbed heavily from Black Jewels. (The other alternative offered in that thread were the Kushiel books, which I would agree are more adult, both in subject matter and style.)

On a reread, I think my initial impression that these books are more for teens—or people who specifically want and need an id-based power fantasy—holds up. Content warnings for literally all the standard bogeyman: rape, pedophilia, implied cannibalism, torture, etc etc. It dives shallowly into all the dark stuff in order to get to the revenge fantasy at the heart of the series.

Extensive spoilers under the cut. There’s a few things I liked, but there’s a lot more I didn’t enjoy about it too. (And it’s not because of any of the content warning stuff above.)

I wrote my review of the first three books before reading any of the sequels. Sequel reviews will be forthcoming.

The Setting

The worldbuilding is a mess. I have no idea how the economy works or why there are even nonBlood ‘landens’ (basically magicless folk) at all when they Literally. Never. Show. Up.

Yet! For all that! It is so rare to see a matriarchy in a fantasy setting that I will forgive the cardboard worldbuilding and pretend like economics doesn’t matter it’s just fantasy. I love that the greatest power is downwards, the Darkness rather than the heavens. Dark stuff more powerful. It’s neat! Like even today the books feel different, even when they’re extremely 2000s aesthetically. Goth vibes ftw. Less good is the gender essentialism and the caste system, which feels like a forerunner to A/B/O in some ways.

Basically, like in A/B/O, everyone has like a secondary biological gender that determines their rank in the hierarchy. So women who are born Queens are biologically meant to rule, and men are drawn to serve them. (It’s stupid, but I respect the inherent service kink aspect.) Some males are Warlords, who are more aggressive, and some men are even higher caste as Warlord Princes, who are ‘predators’ who want to murder ppl all the time, but they’re supposed to be controlled by the women I guess. They're emotionally immature alpha males. Yuck.

I still have no real idea how the fuck Terreille and Kaeleer are different tbh, one just has sentient animals? Are they different dimensions?? The physicality of the environment in this book is like wisps of smoke. Stuff just appears, usually when it needs to, and then goes away again, much like how the magical protagonists are always calling and vanishing objects.

Daughter of the Blood

For a trilogy with a deeply repetitive, emphatic style that over-relies on (dorky) catchphrases (‘and the Blood will sing to Blood,’ ‘everything has a price,’ ‘Mother Night’) each book does have a unique flavour and its own problems.

Weirdly, the thing I hated the most about the first book was the random fatphobia. I never even noticed it as a kid, but almost every time a fat character is introduced they’re a gross dude and likely a pedophile. Don’t like it, tired of seeing it, stop. I’m not even going to forgive the series for being from the early 2000s. I don’t care. Cut it out. At least it only happens in the first book.

The Mary-Sue (she really is! I mean that with affection!) Jaenelle is a child in this book, and her main problems in life are getting sent to a mental institution called Briarwood that is run by pedophiles. We also—at no point ever in the books—get her POV, so a lot of the horror is mitigated by how much the details are glossed over. I think that was meant to be more horrifying but the author isn’t good enough at building atmosphere to make that work. The book chooses a couple specifically horrible situations and then hammers into them in a way that feels both schlocky but also makes the world and the situation feel smaller. I don’t like the way repetition is used in these books. It’s certainly a choice but it’s one that drives the nuance out of book. Almost every villain in this book is a rapist, which makes the rape feel cheap by the end—and I don’t think cheapening it was the intention.

Yet, to be honest, I think this is the strongest book of the three. I actually really like the beginning, with Tersa being crazy and giving prophecies. I don’t know, the writing just draws me in somehow. It’s not great writing, I want to be clear. It’s got nothing on, idk, Tanith Lee. But it is extremely readable and compelling. I was having a good time.

Also, Lucivar and Daemon, like, kiss? And that is just about the only gay thing that you will see in the books until Daemon fakes raping his father in the third book. It is unrelentingly heterosexual otherwise. But I think I was hooked early on as a teen hoping for some gay action. I was disappointed at the time and I’m disappointed now.

This is also the book with probably the most sex and violence. Men are castrated on screen a couple times, there’s explicit cannibalism of one of the other children at Briarwood, one of our viewpoint characters is an assassin, etc etc. Much bad sex happening. Daemon and Lucivar, the hot dudes who are brothers, have been sex slaves for like 1700 years which is objectively hilarious that is SUCH an absurd amount of time to just... be more powerful (aka have darker Jewels) than any of your slavers and just not gotten free? Even with magical cock rings that control them, it's still so stupid.

Also, our main character is actually their dad, Saetan (I WILL NEVER BE OVER THESE NAMES) who is like 50k years old? That makes me giggle so much. That’s so old. Why. Honestly props to Anne Bishop, she really just went for it. I have so much respect for how batshit absurd everything is.

Honestly I just kinda like the first book? It’s paced a lot better than the other ones, it’s dark and ridiculous and full of bad things happening. Jaenelle reminds me of a friend of mine, oddly enough. She’s probably tolerable because we never get her POV.

I also liked Daemon and Jaenelle’s relationship in this one. Under the worldbuilding power fantasy terms of this setting, Jaenelle is literally made up of the dreams of people in the world, and Daemon’s dream was to be the lover of the Most Powerful Matriarch Ever, who in the book is called ‘Witch.’ So meeting her as a kid he’s constantly bombarded by his attraction to her spirit/power/Witch-self, whatever. But she’s a kid and he’s Very Not Into That. He and Saetan are constantly respecting her consent at every opportunity, so it doesn’t squick me out in the slightest.

Because you know, at that age (12-14), I would have killed for an ancient powerful lover who is The Hottest Guy In All The Realms to be all but overcome with lust for me and yet completely absolutely in service to my every need and desire.

It’s a power fantasy, yo.

Anyway the next two books will completely kill any interest I have in their relationship so really, Daughter of the Blood could have ended here and I would have been satisfied.

Heir to the Shadows

Wow, does this one have middle book syndrome. It’s a slog. Someone out there probably likes it. One of the scenes my high school friends liked is the introduction of the Arcerian cat Kaelas where he squashes the Sceltie puppy Ladvarian. I remember them telling me about it with glee. It’s cute, but not enough to save this book.

Everytime a conflict happens it’s almost instantly resolved. Jaenelle grows up, Saetan spoils her, she has friends. All the characters feel really one note. There is almost no sex in this book, but there is some gore. The extremely boring villains, Dorothea and Hekatah, who are basically the same person except one of them is undead (‘demon-dead’), do some violence. Our protagonists do more violence. There’s a unicorn genocide. I can’t keep any of the characters that are in Jaenelle’s court straight (except for Karla and the aforementioned cat and puppy).

Oh, Daemon’s just insane for the whole book, and I ended up skimming all his sections because nothing happened in them.

That sure was a book. Took me longer to read than the other two combined.

Queen of the Darkness

Back to a compelling read, somehow. I blasted through it.

A major issue I have with this series is about how power is framed. Might makes right. The good guys happen to be more powerful, so they can unleash their often bloody revenge, which is always framed as a good thing, a triumph. And also, no one just talks to each other, because bad guys are bad and good guys are good. There is no real compromise, and no nuance.

Like, Bishop is writing a matriarchy, but instead of, idk, expanding on that idea, she just kinda writes the same power imbalances that exist in our world except more villains are women, which instead of feeling empowering or whatever reeks of internalized misogyny. Yeah, I get it, women are bitches and oppressing the mens, so then the sad menz all rape vulnerable women. So it’s a patriarchy, actually, with the Queen-caste women as figureheads. WHY YOU DO THIS.

Honestly I find the ‘might makes right’ part much more problematic than any inclusion of sex slavery, unicorn genocide, or pedophilia. All the latter are perpetrated by villains; what's the excuse for the good guys?

Like this book is more about being righteous and also horny than it is trying to say stuff about politics or whatever, but it’s saying stuff about politics anyway, and what it’s saying is that the most powerful people make the rules. And being an emotionally unregulated nuclear bomb person is perfectly fine so long as you’re the good guy. And frankly, I hate that, and I disagree with it.

And ok, sure, so the Queens are supposed to emotionally regulate their Warlord Princes except that’s mostly just by hoping they hold onto their tempers until they can unleash them in a better direction which doesn’t strike me as real emotional regulation. And who’s supposed to regulate Jaenelle? Just... Jaenelle? Like theoretically the males who serve her, but the way they treat her seems more likely to cause nuclear explosions. She is herself a walking bomb.

Honestly the way males treat females in this book is gross. Men just like overprotect and patronize to the point of infantilizing a woman. And Big Yikes if she so much as gets a period—which is apparently The Worst and makes them unable to use power which THANKS I HATE IT—and it’s just awful, the men treat them like INVALIDS. Not romantic. Didn’t like it as a teen, don’t like it now.

Additionally, I don’t like how emotions and trauma are handled in this. I love a good broken traumatic character, and it's even better if they're powerful and need to navigate not causing harm whilst healing. I lap that shit up. Black Jewels fails me here. All the characters are so fucking one note and so the trauma/healing stuff feels shallow and uninspired.

Additionally, Jaenelle and Daemon are so boring and they’re ‘courting’ each other like high schoolers with zero personality and I hate it. They had better sexual chemistry when she was 12, which is probably just because Daughter of the Blood was the better written book.

Also, they got like a romancey fade to black sex scene? Yeesh.

I DO appreciate that Daemon has no magic healing dick: Jaenelle is still pretty traumatized about stuff after they bone. She’s better about sex, sure, but she’s still upset about being a Queen, etc etc. You know, this series has ooooodles of problems, but I really don’t think Jaenelle is one of them. She works for me. (Although Daemon being a virgin after 1700 years as a pleasure slave? I HATE THAT, that’s stupid. Miss me with that bullshit. At least Jaenelle is never punished by the text for not being a virgin.)

I don’t have much to say about the end. Because we go in knowing Daemon's got back up plans it takes all the tension out of the climax. The story ends with an expected triumph. The book doesn’t set up the idea that Jaenelle will die well enough either, like it’s telegraphed from the first that the Kindred will save her, and then they do. Ok then. Wow, so tense. Much thrill.

So like, I raced through reading this, sure, but it still wasn’t a satisfying read. But it wasn’t a slog. And there were some fun interactions—I enjoyed Surreal and her wolf Graysfang. There were moments.

Honestly this series is so unhinged that despite all the ridiculosity of it, I think I’m coming away feeling weirdly affectionate towards it? It’s bad, the alpha male tropes are nauseating, the matriarchy failed hard, and it’s repetitive as fuck. I’ve been thinking about this series for weeks now, and I have no idea why I find it compelling! It’s infuriating! Maybe it’s compelling because it’s infuriating.

In conclusion: I guess I’m going to read all of this garbage and yell about it. Stay tuned for the sequels.

#Amber reads the Black Jewels series #black jewels trilogy #book review #sort of more like unhinged book screaming #there's like so much other shit I could probably add to this screaming but like it's long enough #and the sequels really dig into many weaknesses #so ... yeah #why did I do this to myself

[azumasoroshi]

watched the first two episodes of oshi no ko a while back (REALLY FUCKING GOOD, ive been a manga reader for a while but i stopped reading the recent chapters and basically forgot everything except for the major points and god it’s so satisfying to have the adaptation remind me of what i’ve forgotten in the most beautiful way possible)

but this post isnt about onk, it’s about izaya!! izaya orihara!! lets fucking goooooooooo izaya idol au!!!! i cant get this flea out of my BRAIN

i was about to open a new canvas to draw some more shizaya stuff for my animatic that im never gonna finish and i was like huh. maybe i should draw onk fanart. and then i remembered this art of venti genshin impact with ai’s eyes and i remembered thinking man i hope this becomes an artist trend for people to do with their art blorbos! and then i was like OH. guess i could contribute to the trend by drawing izaya with ai’s eyes

and then i started thinking and i was like huh. Ai’s never experienced love from her parents, doesn’t think she knows how to love or how to express it, doesn’t get attached to others easily, is a perpetual liar, became an idol because she hoped she would learn how to love - oh hey doesnt. that. sound like izaya. just a little bit. not exactly, her character goes into more learning how to love/that she can love while izaya’s character is i can love but only impersonally because i’m afraid of getting hurt and his arc would be learning to let his walls down for his own good

SO for izaya idol au, izaya would become an idol because he wants to experience love, or something along the lines of “there’s no greater demonstration of parasocial love and foolish decision making than in the idol industry! ahaha~” and probably “idols are perfect liars and i need to put myself into their shoes so i can become an even better liar and close myself off to any possibility of falling in love that could ever exist”

there’s a lot of reasons he might want to become an idol, really. there’s so much corruption and behind-the-scenes dealing and lies and facades and shit in the entertainment industry that i think izaya would eat for breakfast. he would LOVE witnessing that shit and making his own shady deals and stuff and occasionally ruining lives and watching people rise and fall down the rankings and tear each other down. plus the people who are in it for passion rather than money are fascinating as well. psychology student’s dream really- i mean what this is definitely about izaya and not me projecting

plus he definitely has the looks for it (narita would hard agree given how many times he’s indirectly called izaya attractive through other characters. we love a canonically hot king)

now i need to make everything shizaya because i’m not okay but i have no idea who shizuo would be lmao

like you could make him some up and coming manager (no age difference stuff here sorry lmao) or a fellow idol (doubtful. shizuo can act cute but i dont think he could dance) or an actor like akane/kana or a streamer??? like memcho (my favorite character)

a mangaka/screenplay writer/writer in general could also work but i feel like you’d have less reason to interact with idols that way

idk how japanese idol groups work for men in particular or if there’s even like a market for that :sob: id have to look into that if i actually started making stuff for this au

alternatively izaya crossdresses as a female idol and somehow no one realizes. except for shizuo. that would be hilarious actually. he refuses to do swimsuit modeling or other provocative stuff and his fans are like “oh?? the brazen kanra-chan is unexpectedly shy?? how cute” and he plays into it but inwardly he’s like. god i know exactly how im gonna go out with a bang when i retire. and shizuo watches him playing at being shy on tv knowing that that motherfucker is planning to strip on his last days as an idol

anyway this is just me spitballing ideas but ill definitely write at least a concept/intro fanfic of this at some point so stay tuned lmAo im just about to run out of writing juices on ABAON so i gotta transfer my energy somewhere else and where better than the idol!izaya au

#shizaya #idolzaya #ill be using that tag for whatever idol au stuff i come up with #i drafted this like. five days after the onk anime came out #this has been drafted for way longer than i wanted it to be #this was also sorta inspired by the idol!kim dokja au fic that’s really popular #i think the male idol industry is way stronger in korea than japan thiugh #that said i dont interact with idols at all personally lmAOO so i have no idea #i will do research later i promise #and read more of more more jump!’s stories for inspiration PFF #i wonder if izaya’s group should be a bunch of drrr girls or like. mostly irrelevant side characters #or if he should just go solo which again. i need to research how hard that would be #i feel like he might want to blend in a bit inside a group #would be fun to observe the jealousy and drama and group dynamics up close too #because if they get jealous of HIM at any point he might just laugh until he dies #i have more ideas but i should save those for the fanfic…. #anyway #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #durarara #im excited for this one bro oshi no ko is one of my favorite series ever #but like. not for the romance just because i really like learning about the entertainment industry LMAOO #i dont ship aqua with anyone tbh #can he just be besties with everyone pls #i loved his and kana’s relationship in the beginning where they’re like two good actors in a room full of mids #that was a fun dynamic but it just went downhill for me personally #oh well i can talk about this in my author’s notes pff

[skrs-cats]

yea!! not to spoil too much but it focuses on her grieving and finding friendship in dove who shes only just really met as it takes place after tigerhearts se and fills the gap before tbc begins, its sweet sometimes the novellas really hit sometimes they dont i have a friend who skips them completely and i dont get it they add so much NIGHTSTAR MY BELOVED </3 i first read about him in yellowfangs se and thought damn i wish i could read more about him and then his manga came out and i was so happy lol, hoping we get cannon merch of him someday i love how hes written, gonna make a note to make fanart of him aha, unfortunate how he was treated but it feels like it shapes who he is i suppose ohh that makes so much more sense now i thought i was just loosing touch with the fandom and not being able to keep up with names, i was never rly good at it. 💀 i was talking about that with a friend recently too tpb used to repeat backstory about characters so much that it became frustrating but the newer books cut back on it and now when they introduce a character you have to really sit and remember it because they arent explaining it EVER again yaaa!!! u get it lol i started reading other YA series i never read as a kid and thought id reread wcs with a friend for the hell of it (and cause i had so many of the books i never got to) and it was great but as soon as i got to new stuff id never read before it kinda lost its charm and i took a break, sometimes you just arent feeling it, tho the longer you wait the more there is to read when you come back to it who knows maybe holly will be back from the dead again or we will get a jay, holly or lion se, were getting an ivy one after all and theres holly and jay content in the bonus scene for tbc 1

that sounds so sweet ToT SOMEDAY ILL FIND THE TIME TO READ AND REREAD THESE NOVELLAS ive forgotten most of them LMFAO. i think the ones i remember most are hollyleaf's, leafpool's, goosefeather's and dovewings which is.. wow. i def dont have a preference

and yes ur def right that the way nightstar was treated added to how he is generally perceived and his character, it kinda reminds me of mudclaw too! (whos manga i have also still Yet to read rip) i feel bad for them both but their unfortunate circumstances are what makes them such interesting characters T-T

i feel like we are old men yelling at the clouds but in a GOOD WAY HAHAHAHA im glad that despite it, we are talking about the series either way so i guess that means we still feel quite passionate about it, whether in positive or negative manner lmaooo

i think whats stopping me from continuing in reading the new books is that i want to reread it from the very start first, so i am very much stuck in my own way khkjahkljf tbh though whenever i see snippets of the new books in socials i actually find them very interesting! but i def also had moments where i just grew tired and felt like getting away from it all. i am praying so fucking hard for more og po3 content i miss them SO damn MUCH WAHHHHHH

speaking of the bonus scenes, a few weeks back i found out i completely forgot they happened! MORE SPECIFICALLY W HOLLYLEAF, WHAT. I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST W JAYFEATHER AND HIM GRIEVING FOR LEAFPOOL. YOURE TELLING ME THERE WAS HOLLY CONTENT TOO??? what the fuck is my brain doing forgetting this information what the hell im such a fake fan TTTTTTOTTTTT

#ask #LITERALLY like i was watching videos about jayfeather and found out there were scenes about him dealing w the grief leftover from leafpools #passing and i was like WHAT. this happened in tbc bonus scenes???? WHAT WHEN. #and then i look through my old posts and there is literally one about me talking about it briefly #i just. completely forgot.... #and the funniest thing about it is the fact that my initial reaction to finding out about the bonus chapter (again) was me being sad that #lion doesnt get to even be included in that.. and going back to the old post where i read it.... i have the same exact complaint LOL KILL M #I AM NEVER CHANGING I AM STUCK HERE FOREVER

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

It’s here! It’s arrived! I bought an external disc drive earlier this year, and so far I have used it twice: for John Oliver’s stand-up DVD Terrifying Times, and Daniel Kitson’s Shenanigan show on CD. Further goings on about that behind the “keep reading” link (partitioning it only because it might get a bit long and will have pictures that will take up too much space on the screens of people who don’t care).

The Terrifying Times DVD got here because in late April, when I was working my way through the John Oliver era of The Bugle and trying not to think about the fact that those 218-ish hours of audio that had once seemed as good as infinite would at some point end, I decided I really wanted to find the only stand-up special John Oliver has ever made. I searched all over my usual options for this sort of thing, and then just started Googling, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I’d occasionally see an Amazon link, and would get excited for a second because I was more than willing to pay a little money for it, if Amazon had an option to pay to download it – but then I’d click the link and see it was just the physical DVD for sale.

Somehow, it took quite a while of this before it occurred to me that technically, even though it’s 2022, there’s no reason why I can’t order that DVD that was released in 2008. And I even have that external disc drive. So I ordered it, and somehow, I was still surprised when it actually arrived, and was exactly as advertised. I just hadn’t expected that to actually work, because it’s 2022. But it arrived, and it felt like a time machine to 2008. It was like finding a bit of 2008 that should have been scrubbed from the world years ago, but they’d forgotten to remove it and I’d been mistakenly allowed to just order it on the internet. Look, I took some pictures the day I got it:

 And a little brochure inside the cover to advertise other things that would be of interest to anyone purchasing this:

Fucking excellent, I loved going through that before I even put the disc in the drive. And once I did, of course, there were even more exciting things. Special features, like a video of a weird 9-minute conversation between John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman, sitting across a table in some sort of recording studio, talking awkwardly about how British people are incapable of sincerity because the last time they were sincere about anything they went to war with France. The stand-up show itself was very entertaining, but the whole experience ended up being more than that, and it was entirely worth the six dollars I paid for it and the little piece of my soul that I give away any time I buy shit off Amazon.

The second time I’ve used the external disc drive is today. Last year, Daniel Kitson recorded a story show called Shenanigan, just into a microphone in his house, I’m pretty sure. Then he put it onto vinyl, CDs, and cassette tapes, and sold it on his website, because that’s the sort of thing he does. Daniel Kitson and John Oliver are two men who started their careers together and hold many similarities in the worldviews that define the work they’ve done in their diverged directions, but there are some significant differences, one being that you can’t buy Daniel Kitson’s things on Amazon. By “sold it on website”, I mean he accepted orders up to the maximum number that he could personally handle, because then personally packaged them and sent them out. Becuase that’s the sort of thing he does.

Obviously they sold out quickly, and this was all over by the time I got into Daniel Kitson’s stuff earlier this year. I was disappointed to have missed the opportunity by only a few months, but pleased when he put them back for sale this year. Again, obviously, only as a limited physical release. Because we have to be able to appreciate the fleeting beauty in scarcity and the inherent romance of a piece of media that exists in this form that can’t be easily compressed and co-opted and commodified like most media these days. The idea that something is there for a window and then disappears, the way media used to be, when its limitations made it special, before eternal open access to everything rendered it all less meaningful.

That was his idea behind it, I think, and my reaction was to do what I generally do in the face of Daniel Kitson’s attitude toward that sort of thing, which is to say: “Yes I’m all for the romantic notion of the best experiences being fleeting beauty that takes work and care to uncover, but I live in Canada and did not get into this sort of thing until the last couple of years because I was previously too busy trying to shape the next generation through sporting events, give me a fucking chance.” I also feel nostalgic sometimes for things like my old CD collection, but also, my day-to-day life is much much easier now that I can immediately play any of my 11,000+ songs on iTunes instead of messing around with discs every time I want to hear a different album. And Daniel Kitson can’t judge me for that, because he’s mentioned on his radio show that he uses Spotify, which is way worse. I think owning digital media is way easier and a better way to preserve it than owning physical media, but both options are far superior to just renting your media from a large company that will take away your access to it if you don’t pay them every month.

Having said that, a little of my opposition to Kitson’s insistence on not just making it easy by letting us pay for a download link (which, to be fair, he has done with other shows on Bandcamp, and actually that makes all my complaining about this, it’s my own fault that I decided all those Bandcamp and Vimeo shows weren’t enough) dissipated this morning, when the actual CD arrived. It is, honestly, fucking cool to hold it in my hands and feel like actual effort has gone in, on both ends of the transaction (transferring it to CD, packaging, mailing across an ocean on his part; and on my part I guess just waiting six weeks, but that seems like a lot of effort in this age where media is digital and instant, also it cost a fair bit with trans-Atlantic shipping but I didn’t actually pay that cost since I sent the link to my parents the day it went on sale and told them this is what I want for Christmas), to get this into my hands. It was cool to have something physical to open. There’s a sticker on the box that says “I designed some stickers because it seemed like a bit of fun, but sticking them on is actually just a bit more admin.” I tried to carefully peel that off because obviously I’m going to keep that, probably put it on my bookshelf with my Taskmaster sticker, and while I was doing that, I had a moment of realizing Daniel Kitson had personally stuck it on there in London England and now that same thing is here in my hands and that is, in fact, fucking cool. Cooler than an mp3 bought off Bandcamp can ever be.

In the package is a lovely double album cover, the outside and the inside carefully designed; looking at it gives me a real sense of what Daniel Kitson means when he says things are worth more if they’re not really easy to just grab off the internet. When I’m not reading about his stuff that used to be out there but I missed the window, and instead I managed to get on board while it was open and now I get this as a reward, it’s fucking cool. Look how nice it is:

Having said that, I’m going to do with this CD exactly what I did with John Oliver’s DVD, which is marvel at the cool designs on the physical cover and even the physical discs, and then put them into my disc drive, plug the drive into my computer, and convert them into digital files that I can save to my hard drive. I’ll respect the spirit of artist’s choice to stick to physical media, which is to not create something that can be passed around easily (by “the artist” in this instance I mean Daniel Kitson... I feel less compelled to worry about that with a 2008 DVD I bought off Amazon) - I won’t share it anywhere. I just want to have it for myself.

See, romanticized fleeting beauty aside, it’s a hell of a lot easier to have a file I can play through my preferred video/audio software on a computer, than to have to get out the external disc drive every time I want to hear it. And on a practical level, files on a hard drive are way easier to organize and use than our old stacks of CDs and DVDs. It’s also nice to have media in a form that can be backed up, because shortly after the CD arrived my mother’s cat knocked over a water bottle perilously closet to it, and I freaked right out from the thought that my only copy was almost ruined. It’s a cool feeling, to have one physical thing be so significant that I need to protect it, but also, going through life with everything being that way would be tiring. I'd rather have to protect one laptop and a few external hard drives than have hundreds of CDs and know I lose part of my media if any of them get damaged.

Anyway, the actual point of this post is to say: look how pretty that album cover is! And also to say: It’s here! It’s arrived! Didn’t quite get here by Christmas, but close enough! I’m so excited to finally have it!

[potatoleeksoup]

3, 4, and 13!

ty!!!

(3) what were your top five books of the year?

in no particular order i loved:

mrs caliban by rachel ingalls. this is SO good. ingalls went straight on my list of forgotten 20th century women that i want to become. actually it's an extremely short list but she's on it right behind my forever queen gina berriault look her up

what you can see from here by mariana leky. honestly this has faded from my memory a little bit since i read it in the spring but i remember being totally obsessed with the prose and narrative movement of this. id love to relearn all my german and read this in the original and also all leky's other books (i believe she has other novels but idk if any have been translated?)

a home at the end of the world by michael cunningham. is it boring to recommend michael cunningham maybe. did this book make me insane and do i frequently think about specific lines and phrases from particularly the first third of it YES. michael call me i just want to talk

the tree and the vine by dola de jong. being in secret unrequited love with your roommate is so scary and horrible ! this book is like a very very sharp gemstone !

all fires the fire by julio cortázar. cortázar is one of my favorites ever and this collection is just like completely complex and perfect like a box of bitter chocolates. right after german i will be learning spanish in order to experience these stories for the first time in a new way again

honorable mentions to:

reprieve by james han mattson. it's possible that this isn't good but i had SO much fun reading it. one of the only books i have read over the past few years that i found really and truly exciting. escape room novel!!!!

the glassy, burning floor of hell by brian evenson. good book! but MOST importantly my favorite title of the year.

anddddddd interview with the vampire. sorry. i loved this.

(4) did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

definitely rachel ingalls! i had heard of her but never read her and i am so pleased to have finally dipped my toesies into her work. maybe rivka galchen too... everyone knows your mother is a witch was good and i am excited to see if i like her other work even better. and dola de jong! i had never even heard of her! if any of her other work is ever available in english translation i will be sprinting to the library

(13) what were your least favorite books of the year?

ahh yes my favorite. hating. let's see...

the charm offensive by alison cochrun. unfortunately had to revoke the bisexuality card of the dear friend who recommended this to me. stupid and really bad in ways that matter (fetishistic strange representation of gay men) as well as ways that are just annoying (horrible prose and overtherapized emotional narratives)

a visit from the goon squad by jennifer egan. sad that i broke my 11 year streak of never reading this but it was required for a class. the PULITZER PRIZE? for LITERATURE? are you SURE?

the snow queen by michael cunningham. goddamn the higher they climb the harder they fall!!!!!!! this was one of the worst structured and most sloppily and fluffily written novels i have ever read. and from the king of structure and perfect sharp prose himself. sad... well there's other fiction writers

how to find your way in the dark by derek b miller. a genuinely antisemitic book recommendation from the aforementioned formerly bisexual dear friend. horribly written and with a bad case of my protagonist is the specialest little boy in the world. special shoutout to this book for inspiring the novel i am currently working on by being so bad that i looked at it and thought even i could do a better job at this

the temps by andrew deyoung. no more clever little books by clever little guys. it is appropriate that the cover of this is green like toxic slutch because it gave me horrible indigestion. thinks it is so smart about the world and is so fundamentally mistaken about every single one of the issues it tries to tackle

and i COULD GO ON!!!!! there are bad books being published every day on this bitch of an earth!

this was so fun i love yelling

[badheart]

the punch took him off-guard, which was why he didn't make an attempt to dodge it. ji-eun simply wasn't expecting it at all. it hurt, but not as much as what he had endured already after his little fuck up & besides... his half-brother's reaction gave him the impression that he had hurt himself more than him. still, it elicited a groan, which made him rub his jaw to ease the pain.

"tch... you act like it's something new." ji-eun scoffed. clearly, it didn't seem like his dear brother had grasped the kind of world that he was part of, which included shadier men than those. "he just got startled 'cause my girl led me to her friend's place... that's it. i have no business with him." & he hoped that things stayed that way. it made him realize that there was a detail amiss—one that could maybe explain why things had gone carried away. "my girl is in a wheelchair... that's why she felt the need to rely on others. don't worry, though... i'm not getting you or the family name involved. i mean... i don't even carry it." in terms of his ID.

Rather annoyed he looked down at his knuckles, rubbing them to ease the pain at least a little. His brother's jaw sure was hard, but he was not much of a fighter anyway. He let others do the dirty work, though his lawyer turned out to be rather incompetent in the case with So-hee, his daughter. Not that stupid motherfucker.

"I haven't forgotten, but there was really no need to stress the situation further, especially when it could have been clearly avoided." How could this guy possibly be so much in love with someone, or rather obsessed, that he would end up in such terrible situation, that had costs his hands? His mother, that stupid whore must have dropped him on the first day, with how incompetent he was. The latter details did not help to feel any sympathy for him either. "You are so stupid," he huffed, as he could not believe it. "A wheelchair? Wow, you really hit a new low today... of course you can only attempt your luck at a girl that cannot run away from you... Ah..." There was a moment of silence, recalling a faint detail and the recent news. "Please don't tell me it's that girl from that politician?" That would be the oddest coincidence, but the timing made his hope drop.

"It doesn't matter, it will be known you are related to us, if you carry the name now or not, ... if I were you, I would do everything in my power to fix every little problem you have right now and better not appear in the public ever again, seeing how you simply won't change."

#╳ ——「 query.」 #mugunghwc

[skylarsolstice]

Here's a little preview of my Magnus Archives mafia AU fic: The Magnum Archives

Martin Gilroy.

Arthur Blackwood looked down at the ID that now marked him as a man with that name. It turned out that if you were related to Salesa, you could pull favours with the men selling fabricated backstories. Arthur- or rather, Martin- flicked the card between his fingers, looking up at the old building that housed the Magnus Archives. Martin smirked. Elias Bouchard was certainly bold, Martin would give him that. Martin had to give him that, considering how bold he was about to be.

He stepped into the building, looking around for the front desk. Approaching it with a little more uncertainty than he had approached the building; he felt a little silly, actually. Having been so caught up in this entire plan, he’d forgotten how long it'd been since he had properly interacted like this.

Foreign words tumbled out of his mouth, getting a little jumbled together in his haste. “Ah, hi, hello. I’m looking for Mr. Bouchard? Uh, I have an appointment with him, soon… I think.”

Well, all things considering, a little social anxiety would probably help with covering what Martin was actually planning on doing here.

The woman at the desk looks up from her computer and asks "Mr. Gilroy right?"

"Yes, Martin" he replied

"Great, have a seat over there and I'll let you know when he's ready" she told him "I'm Rosie by the way" she added.

Martin nodded and took a seat outside of Mr. Bouchard's office. He sat there for a few minutes just looking around. He noticed the cob webs in the corners of the room, one of them with a spider hanging from it.

Martin had always been fascinated with spiders. He recalls his science research project from primary school. How many hours did he spend on that project with his father? That was before he left of course.

Before Martin could get too lost in thought, he heard Rosie call.

"He's ready for you now Mr. Gilroy. You can go right on in."

"Thank you," he replied over his shoulder. He twisted the knob and entered the office. Elias is a small man, wearing a 3 piece navy suit with a white shirt and black tie. His face is sharp with a well kept moustache and bright green eyes that seemed to pierce right through Martin- like he was trying to read his soul and intentions. Martin took in a shaky breath.

"Good morning Mr. Bouchard, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. Have a seat," he all but demanded. "Sorry for making you wait. It's been a bit hectic around her these last few weeks after our previous Archivist’s disappearance. Now what can I help you with?" He said, looking up at Martin.

"Well Mr. Bouchard, I'm here for the archival assistant job. I think I'm more than qualified for the position. If you look at my CV that I sent over you'll see I have quite a bit of experience as a personal assistant and in archiving," Martin responded with as much confidence as he could muster.

"I did take a look at the CV you sent over, and I must say I am impressed. You have good experience and education along with some very reputable references- Something you don't see as often as you would think. My question for you is why do you want to work here? Why this institution?" He asked in a smooth voice.

"Well, this is most certainly a reputable institution and I find the research you do here quite fascinating, even riveting. I would love to be a part of that research. Also there aren't many places that would make use of my parapsychology and library science degree," He answered with as much confidence as he could muster.

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Elias said with a small laugh. "Well Mr. Gilroy, I admire your boldness and that with your substantial experience, eagerness, and applicable education I think you would be a great fit for this job," Elias stated. Martin breathes a silent sigh of relief. It worked. "I'll just need you to fill out some paperwork and have it ready on your first day. Does Monday work?" He asked

"Yes, that's perfect," Martin eagerly replied.

"Great. Go ahead and just let Rosie know you need the new hire paperwork. You'll drop that off at her desk Monday and then she can show you down to the archives. This place can be a bit of a maze if you don't know where you're going," He added.

"Thank you Mr. Bouchard," he said, shaking the other man's hand. He walked back out to the front desk to talk to Rosie again.

"Here's the paperwork you need." She said, handing him a thick packet of paper. "Just bring it in, completed, to me on Monday and then I can show you to the archives. We don't need you getting lost on your first day." She remarked.

Martin thanked her and headed back out the way he came. It was time for the fun to begin.

-

Martin arrived at the institute approximately 10 minutes early. He wanted to make a good impression on his new coworkers. Heading over to Rosie's desk to drop off the paperwork he completed, he lightly cleared his throat to get her attention. As soon as she looked up at him, he spoke.

"Hey, I have my paperwork ready. Hoping I could still get a guide down to the archives."

"Of course, no problem!" She said, taking the packet from him. "Follow me," She continued. She led him to the elevator and pressed the button for the basement. After they got off, she led him down winding corridors to a door marked Archives. "Here we are. Good luck on your first day!" She said with a big smile.

"Thank you. Have a good one," He replied as she walked off back toward the elevator or it looked like he was heading back that way. This place was rather confusing. Martin took a deep breath before walking in through the door into the archives. Inside, there were two occupied desks with plaques. One reads Timothy Stoker- Archival Assistant, and the other Sasha James- Assistant to Head of Archives. Martin cleared his throat and both of them looked up.

"H-hi, I'm uh- M-martin. Um- Martin Gilroy," He stuttered out.

"Hey, it's the newbie!" The man behind the right desk yelled. "Nice to meet you. I'm Tim, your new favourite coworker; and this," he gestured to the woman in the next desk over "is Sasha James: the biggest pain in the ass this side of the Atlantic!" He said with the biggest grin.

"Shut up Tim," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Ignore him, he's an idiot. It's nice to meet you, Martin. I'll let Jon know you're here and we'll get you set up," She got up from her desk and made her way to the office in the back. She knocked on the door with the inscription Jonathan Sims- Head Archivist. She walks in and says something Martin can't quite make out; then she turns back to Martin. "You can go on in. He's ready to meet you," She called to him with a smile.

Martin made his way to the back of the room and through the door. He looked at the man behind the desk and he immediately felt his face flush. He's a slight man with long dark hair tied back into a ponytail. Although he looks relatively young, his hair already had a few grey streaks running through it. He looked up at Martin with big brown eyes and Martin couldn't help, but find him and the warm brown of his skin very attractive.

"H-hello, I'm Martin, Martin Gilroy. I'm the new archival assistant. It's nice to meet you Mr. Sims," The words came out relatively coherent- much to his surprise. Martin desperately hoped Jon couldn't see the flush in his cheeks.

Jon looked up curiously at Martin making eye contact with his ocean blue eyes. He couldn't help, but notice the other man was quite tall and large in a sense that made you not want to get on his bad side. Martin had a cute rosy flush to his cheeks as well.

Cute? Did he really just think he's cute? Oh boy. Jon pushed that thought to the back of his mind to address later… or ignore forever. Whichever came first.

"Good morning Martin, have a seat. I'm just finishing getting your account set up on our software." Jon said as he finished typing everything in. "Alright, that should do it. Here is the information you will need to login," he continued, sliding a sticky note across the desk with a temporary username and password on it. "Once you get logged in you can customise your account and everything."

"Great, thank you Mr. Sims," Martin replied with a small, flustered smile. "What should I get started on today?" He asked.

"There should be some boxes on your desk with files in them. Just do as much online research into those statements as you can and make a report of your findings for each. We won’t get you into field research just yet. And Jon is fine, Mr. Sims was my father." He added.

"Right, of course! I'll get right on it Mr-er, Jon." He stuttered.

"Should you need any help, feel free to ask Tim, Sasha or myself," Jon replied, unable to fight a small, amused smile on his own face.

After Martin left the office Jon felt his face flush. His cheeks warm and his eyes lingered on the figure of his new coworker as he took a seat at his desk. Jon couldn't help, but feel like he could trust him; like he may be one of the only people he could trust. Where did that come from? He wondered, scratching at the earring in his left ear. He noticed more and more that the earring he always wore was irritating his ear for some reason. It was a more recent development since he started this job actually. That's weird, he thought. Maybe he needs to get it cleaned? It's a family heirloom, so he's hesitant to leave it with a total stranger. It was, after all, the last thing he had to remind him of his grandmother.

He can think about that later. For now, he needed to stop staring at Martin (and the way his brow creased as he focused), and get back to work.

Martin sat down at his desk with a long sigh. He couldn't help, but take one last look at Jon through his open office door. Some stray hairs fell in his eyes and Martin found himself imagining a moment where he would brush them away to tuck behind his ear so he could look into those deep pools of brown.

He shook himself and turned on his computer. The computer looked like it came straight out of a 90s tech catalogue, and Martin wondered if this used wifi or dial up internet. The computer started up with that classic windows start up sound- and then Martin yelped, jumping up out of his chair.

The screen saver he recognized from the scary maze game people used to prank each other with in high school. It was even accompanied by that blood curdling scream. He heard Tim laugh, taking far too much joy in Martin's terror.

"Sorry I couldn't resist," he wheezed. Sasha shot him an exasperated look. "What? I hardly get to prank newbies anymore now that we've been banished to the dungeon!" He said defensively.

"If we could not traumatise Martin on his first day that would be great," Jon called from his office, sarcasm dripping from his words. Sasha hummed in agreement.

"You guys are such buzzkills!" Tim said with an amused smile.

"No worries, it's all in good fun," Martin said with a smile. "I always expect a little bit of hazing when starting a new job and I'm hardly traumatised," he chuckled.

"See, he thought it was funny. Also I think I should get credit for knowing how to work this ancient piece of technology so well,” Tim declared.

"Yes, Tim. so impressive," Sasha deadpanned. "Now would you quiet down, some of us are trying to work here," Sasha said, throwing a piece of crumpled up paper at him.

Tim fell to the floor dramatically holding his shoulder like he had just been shot "Sasha, how could you hurt me like this?! I thought we were friends!" he cried in feigned agony.

The archival staff burst out in loud laughter at Tim’s very toddler-like drama. Martin was going to like this mission; unsanctioned or not

#tma podcast #the magnus archives #martin has a gun

[menalez]

For real… Im more disturbed and scared of what I don’t remember and it’s clearly not safe for me to feel the feelings and it’s so traumatizing that my brain is protecting me… I remember being sexually assaulted ONCE as a child but sense it happened more… but I can’t remember. I remember a scary voice in one memory and I remember feeling scared… that’s it. Then one where in asked to do something and start crying and all I can remember is black and I feel really scared….

It makes me anxious even typing that….

I’ve feared doing EMDR even though I’ve been assured there’s no point searching for lost memories like that.

If you don’t remember something there’s a reason our brains out powerful are helping us survive and protecting us from feeling pain. Some feelings are physically painful and it’s not beneficial to be crippled over something from the past… the mind splits and blocks things off for a reason…

Honestly though it makes me sick knowing/thinking how things that are so painful that we block out men jerk off to, and we are only accused of lying because it activates men’s shame… they get off to our pain, so they invalidate it.

Men are evil, and not particularly intelligent. They confuse being brutes with being smart and superior. Even though they’re quite literally all meet the qualifications of being at risk for others I wish we could lock them all up till.

I’m sorry you were pressured.

My brain doesn’t have a problem pulling up/remembering like it was yesterday, sexual experiences that were consensual and felt loving… I think our minds do want to heal like why would you want to remember and relive a horror? Of course you don’t remember it sounds nasty, Anon you’re nasty; I wonder if they’ve ever pressured anyone, someone has a guilty conscious perhaps (lmao my abuser said k had a guilty conscious; men are projecting 24/7 it come with their narcissistic ways. Men are liars. If their lips are moving then they are lying. They lie about being child molesters and rapists and these same men call women liars. Deep down everyone knows this to be true. )

im so sorry that happened to you. honestly i can relate somewhat bc when i didnt remember a lot of my trauma id sometimes feel terrified like... what happened to me that i dont know of? and when im in that mindset it can really feel scary to me knowing i dont actually know the full extent of what i went thru.

i dont believe ive ever done EMDR but i did do another form of trauma therapy and i couldn't handle it. we hadn't even addressed the trauma itself but rather my life before & after it and it was too much.

but yeah definitely our minds are probably just protecting us. what i do remember and the things i remembered recently that i had forgotten before have only horrified me further and disturbed me further. id rather remember less than remember it all.